#I've done green and silver before

[rip-quizilla]

1405 Peach Tree Lane

Pairing: Older!Neighbor!Eddie Munson x Reader

Summary: You like to watch your older, tatted shirtless neighbor now his lawn. He likes to watch you laying by your parents’ pool in those swimsuits that make his mouth water. Eventually, the inevitable happens when he invites you across the street for a drink.

Word Count: 8.2K

Tags: 🔥SMUT, modern au, age gap (Eddie 40s, Reader 20s), daddy kink, praise kink, degradation kink, slight breeding kink, spitting, light dom/sub, unprotected sex (reader has an iud), oral sex, p in v sex, shower sex, masturbation in a hot tub

(A/N: This is some of the filthiest shit I think I've ever written. You're welcome. Also I was very quick with the proofread, so if you see any spelling or grammar mistakes, no you don't.)

💜💜💜

Everyone in the posh gated community of Forest Hills knew about 1405 Peach Tree Lane.

The house was beautiful, as were all the houses in the upper-crust neighborhood- but the house wasn’t what people paid attention to.

Every housewife in the neighborhood knew that if they were lucky and timed their morning jog just right, they’d catch a glimpse of the toned, inked-up adonis who lived there while he shirtlessly mowed his lush green lawn. 

You might not have done much speaking with the housewives in your parents’ neighborhood, but you knew about 1405 Peach Tree Lane- you had a perfect view of its front lawn from your lounge chair by the pool in your parents’ backyard. Luckily for you, all that separated your backyard from 1405 was a short wrought iron fence and a narrow stretch of road.

You didn’t mind living with your parents during the summers you spent home from college; they gave you plenty of freedom and while they were at work during the day, you got to spend the afternoon lounging by the pool, reading a book and soaking up the sun.  

As well as soaking up the view of the way that same sunlight glinted off Mr. 1405’s sweaty, ink-riddled skin. 

You didn’t speak to him- what would you even say? “Hi, it’s nice to meet you, my favorite part of the day is guessing what your tattoos mean.”? Or maybe, “Hey there neighbor, mind if I count the freckles on your shoulders? It’s for science.”

Eventually, the inevitable happened- he caught you staring. 

He didn’t make it awkward, though. In fact, from the way he simply smiled and waved at you, you wondered if he thought your eyes meeting him had just been a coincidence, and you hadn’t been ogling him for the past thirty minutes and some change. You’d smiled back, thankful for your huge sunglasses that hid the way your eyes had widened under his attention, and waved in return. 

An even bigger surprise had been that he spoke to you this time. 

“That book any good?” 

His voice, heavy with labored breathing under the exhaustion from finishing up his lawn work, had caught you completely off guard. You’d laughed nervously, sticking your bookmark between the pages and pushing yourself up from your face-down position on the flattened lounge chair. 

“Oh! Ah-ha, uhm, yeah!” you shifted your weight back until you were sitting on spread knees and looking up at the source of the voice. On the other side of your parents’ fence stood Mr. 1405 Peach Tree Lane, sweaty and slightly sunburned on the tops of his shoulders. His curly brown hair had been piled into a messy knot atop his head, and you took note of the details that you hadn’t noticed from far away- a smattering of silver studs that decorated his ears, along with one on his nose. Five o’clock shadow that dusted his jawline. A more detailed view of his tattoos, some of which looked older than others but all of which looked very, very sexy on this man who had so much sex appeal already. 

The crinkling of his plastic water bottle as he squeezed about half of it into his mouth filled the silence between you. After a loud gulp he piped up again.

“What’s it about?”

Your brow wrinkled confusedly before you remembered that he had just asked you about your book. “Oh!” you replied dumbly, looking down at the book as if you had completely forgotten that books even existed- looking at him had taken up your entire mental capacity, apparently. “It’s, uh, it’s a memoir! It’s this cool old lady’s life story, she does not hold back, so the narration is pretty hilarious a lot of the time.”

The inked-up Greek god smiled and nodded, eyebrows raising in interest. “That does sound good.” he mused, and his voice took on a slyer tone when he added, “What’s your definition of old, like thirty-five?” He chuckled as if he’d just told a funny joke, but your smile had all but fallen from your face. 

“That’s not old,” you replied, not taking the joke, “This author was in her late seventies when she published this book, but even with that being said, this book is just told through such a youthful spirit- it’s easy to forget how old the author is when looking at her words.” You gripped the paperback a little tighter in your sweaty hands. “Plus, old people definitely don’t have the energy to mow their own lawns, and I have a feeling you’re not thirty-five.” 

That seemed to catch him off-guard. A surprised laugh escaped him, exploding from his lips before they formed an intrigued grin and his arms crossed over his tattooed chest. 

“Oh yeah? How old do I look, then?”

You grinned back, making a show of removing your sunglasses so that you could peer at him with greater focus. “Hmmmmmm…thirty-six?” 

Another laugh, this one heartier than the last. “You flatter me, sweetheart.” 

God, his voice is like brown sugar.

You tried again. “Forty, then.”

“Older.”

“No way.”

His grin became a smirk. “Are you patronizing me right now?”

You threw up a girl scout salute. “Scout’s honor, I would never.” 

He chuckled. “Well, girl scout, I’ll be forty-five next month.”

“I’ll be sure to warn my parents about the rager you’ll be throwing.”

He peered up at your house behind you, like he just now noticed its- and your parents’- existence. “Nah,” he said, “No ragers for me, that ship sailed when I was your age.”

You smiled sweetly, placing your sunglasses atop your head. “At least let me bake you a cake, then, wouldn’t be neighborly to let you have a boring birthday.”

“You’d bake a cake for ‘lil old me, sweetheart?” His tattooed hand splayed over his heart, sweaty and shining in the blaring afternoon sun.

You giggled. You could get used to Mr. 1405 calling you ‘sweetheart’. 

“Sure thing, just tell me what name to write in between ‘happy birthday’ and ‘forever young’.”

A flash of dazzling white teeth replied, “Eddie. Eddie Munson.” 

That was when you rose a step above the housewives of Forest Hills- to them, he was still Mr. 1405, but to you? He was Eddie Munson.

You entertained yourselves with little conversations here and there whenever Eddie worked out on his lawn. You, always in a swimsuit and him, never wearing a shirt. You would ask him about his tattoos- what they symbolized, which ones he’d drawn himself before they were replicated on his flesh. He would ask you about what you were reading- it was always changing. Sometimes nonfiction, sometimes romance, fantasy, lit fic… he seemed impressed by your insatiable reading habits. 

One day, however, he’d been particularly interested in a book whose cover bore a bare-chested  gentleman and particularly busty woman in a corset. 

“What’s today’s read, girl scout?” Eddie had greeted you with a nod toward the obviously risque reading material and a knowing smirk as he let his arms dangle over the black bars of your fence. 

You looked up, glowing from the sweat that’s gathered on your dewy summer skin and smiled tightly. “Oh, just a period romance. Ball gowns, forbidden love, the scandalous touching of hands without gloves on- things like that.”

“From the looks of that cover, I don’t think their hands are the only naked body parts touching in that story.” 

You laughed, glancing at the cover as Eddie waggled his eyebrows. “You’re probably right, but who knows? I’m only on the second chapter. I’ll keep you posted though.” you punctuated that last part with a wink. 

“Oh please do, princess,” Eddie said with a wolfish grin. “I love a good smutty romance novel.” 

You gawked. “No way you read this shit, you’re bluffing.”

Eddie raised a hand as if swearing on a bible. “Scout’s honor.” he said, mimicking your swear from the day you’d met. 

You shook your head, smiling ear to ear. “You must be the first man I’ve met who openly admits to reading smut, and I respect that.”

Eddie shrugged. “Easiest way to know what women want- they’re literally writing me an instruction manual. It’d be stupid not to read them.”

You bit your bottom lip before you could stop yourself, making a mental note of that little tidbit of information. “And you enjoy them?”

“It’s porn, sweetheart,” he said, gazing at you incredulously. “Who wouldn’t enjoy it?”

“It’s porn with a plot.”

“I’m a sucker for a good plot, especially if the plot involves sucking.”

You barked out a laugh. “And one could also argue that it’s more emotional porn than physical.”

“Are you insinuating that I don’t have a heart? Because I’ve got one, princess, and it bleeds, it yearns-”

Eddie pantomimed grasping at his own heart in his chest, putting on a fucking one-man show as he hung onto the fence for dear life as if his heart were truly bleeding out. You laughed- that was something that seemed to happen more when Eddie was around- you laughed more than usual, so much that you found your cheeks aching whenever he walked away. 

This time, something else ached as you watched him return to his lawn. As you continued to read, you were acutely aware of the heat between your thighs, the wetness that accumulated as you pictured corseted girls and muscled viscounts making eyes at each other across a sea of dancing courtiers. You imagined yourself, cornered in a rich rose garden bathed in moonlight, struggling to stifle your moans as a man in a tailcoat left a mark on your neck. You felt his hand hiking up your layers of petticoats until it reached your thigh, the only thing separating skin from skin being the white fabric of his gloves. You pictured his eyes, brown and bottomless as he moaned at the feeling of your hands tangled and tugging on his soft brown curls-

Uh oh. 

You took a deep breath, bookmarked your page, and slipped into the cold water of the pool. You sincerely hoped that Eddie hadn’t been serious about an update on the smut in your novel; you didn’t exactly want to let slip that at some point, you’d stopped picturing the viscount and started picturing him. 

But would he mind? Would he be upset to know that you’d pictured his hands on you, his lips on your pulse, your fingers in his hair? 

You weren’t sure he would. 

In fact, you had a feeling he might actually picture you in situations that weren’t too different. After all, you weren’t blind- you’d noticed the way his eyes would flit down from your face when the two of you were talking. He didn’t seem to put much effort into hiding his once-overs, his raking gaze that seemed more than pleased by the way your swimsuits hugged your curves, pulled your cleavage together, cut higher on your hip than your shorts ever would. Whenever you pulled yourself up from lying on your stomach, you’d seen how his eyes followed your ass hungrily as it left his line of sight. 

That was the moment that you realized- Eddie Munson, more than likely, wanted to fuck you. 

And you definitely wanted to fuck him. 

So the next time he came over to see you after mowing his lawn, you offered him a beer. 

“I’m already halfway through mine,” you said, leaning back to give him a full view of the way the sweat on your breasts shone in the hot sun. “don’t make me day drink alone.”

A salacious grin curled on his plush pink lips. “I could be tempted,” Eddie peered at the cooler beside you. “What are you drinking, sweetheart?”

You opened the cooler so that he could see the six pack of light lagers in shiny green bottles. Eddie wrinkled his nose distastefully. “Alright, young padawan,” he sighed, unlatching the gate to your backyard. “It’s time you learned your first lesson from Master Munson.” He didn’t enter the backyard, simply opened the gate and waited for you to join him outside your parents’ property. 

You quirked an eyebrow; this was new territory. That wrought iron fence had always served as a sort of barrier between the two of you, never occupying the same space and keeping each other at arm’s length- flirty banter, but with boundaries. 

Now, you smiled shrewdly as you slipped on your flip flops and crossed the threshold into Eddie’s space, following him across the narrow street to his driveway.

“Oh so I’m your student now, Master?” you quipped, launching him into a dark chuckle and a shake of his curls. 

“Christ,” he cursed under his breath low enough that he probably thought you hadn’t heard- but you did. “Well, your college friends are obviously shitty teachers if your drink of choice is a basic ass bottle you can grab at the goddamn gas station.” 

You scoffed, “Oh, what- are you trying to say you’re one of those pretentious beer snobs who only drinks micro-brewed IPA’s named after bad puns?”

Eddie laughed out loud, smiling ear to ear at you over his shoulder. “Oh that’s exactly what I am, princess!” The harsh sunlight finally relented as the two of you crossed into Eddie’s garage, and you followed him in a beeline to the old refrigerator in the corner opposite from his impressive-looking toolbench. 

You nearly moaned with relief when the cool air from the fridge hit you as Eddie opened the door and grabbed a couple of unmarked silver cans from the middle shelf. You eyed them cautiously, which Eddie saw and snorted at when he saw your expression. “Not poisoning you, sweetheart, no need to worry.” He opened a door beside the fridge that you guessed- judging by what you could see past the doorway- led to his kitchen. “A friend of mine is a home-brewer, he gives these to me and the guys for free. Way better than any cookie-cutter shit you’ll find at a college party.” He held the door open for you, nodding his head toward the doorway. “You coming inside? It’s hot as hell out here.”

You hadn’t expected him to invite you into his home; it occurred to you suddenly that you were still only wearing your swimsuit. Smiling shyly, you stepped through the doorway, the chill of the air conditioning rolling goosebumps over your damp skin. Eddie stepped into the kitchen and immediately began opening the cans, handing one to you. 

You eyed the can cautiously, raising an eyebrow at him. “Do I want to know what I’m about to drink?’ 

He smiled mischievously, inclining his head toward you as he held his can aloft. “First lesson, padawan- trust your master.” He tilted the can in your direction, to which you sighed and tapped your can to his. 

Your eyes widened in surprise when the cold, bubbly liquid hit your lips. It wasn’t anything like you were expecting- instead of the tepid wheaty taste that you were used to. At first the drink was tart, but after a second it faded into a fruity dryness that reminded you of white wine. Its  flavor was so light that you couldn’t even tell you were drinking beer.

“This is beer?” 

Eddie chuckled. “Technically it’s a sour, but yes- it’s a type of beer. Dustin said it was a champagne sour, so if you like wine then hopefully this’d be up your alley.” 

You smiled as you took your second sip. “I do like wine.” you murmured, testing the flavors on your tongue. “Like this, too. Your friend ever think about selling what he brews?”

“Dustin?” Eddie asked, laughing as if the question were something funny. “Oh I have no doubt he’ll try to sell it one day, but he’s not going to even think about it until he knows he’s perfected his recipe.”

As you took another sip of the cold drink, you felt another wave of goosebumps run through you. Coincidentally, this was the moment that Eddie fell perfectly silent. You peered over your can- his eyes were fixed on your chest. You became acutely aware that the goosebumps had resulted in your nipples growing so hard, you thought if something-anything- were to accidentally brush against them, you might moan from the sensitivity. 

Stifling a smirk, you shivered and hugged your upper arms. “Brrrrr it’s cold in here!” you said coyly, “I guess my body temperature got a little too used to the heat.” 

Eddie’s chest heaved slightly at the way your tits bounced and squeezed together when you shivered. He cleared his throat, looking down at the beer can in his hand for a moment. “I’ve got a hot tub, you know,” He spoke up, peering at you to gauge your reaction. “Downstairs. You’re welcome to it.”

You took another sip. “Only if you join me.”

His dark eyes snapped up to yours, lips curling up at one corner. “Yes ma’am.” he said, his voice lowered an octave and a bit huskier than before. You held his eye contact, mirroring his lopsided grin with a charged, heavy-lidded gaze. 

Eddie led you to a staircase down the hall and said he’d be right back with a towel for you after he changed into swim trunks. 

“Aw, no speedo?” you smirked. Eddie appeared unphased. “Mental note,” he murmured to himself, “the princess is eager to see my thighs.”

You giggled, “There might be more tattoos there I haven’t seen yet,” you countered, “How am I supposed to keep figuring you out if I don’t know the meaning of each and every one?” 

Eddie placed his forearm above your head on the wall, leaning into it until he was close enough for you to feel his breath on your hairline. “You know, you seem to spend a lot of time staring at my body, kid-” You bristled at his blatant omission of the nicknames you liked. “-I’m starting to feel objectified.” 

You forced the smile from your face, looking up at him defiantly. “I could say the same thing about you, Mr. Munson,” you replied, “-and I’m not a ‘kid’.”

His position didn’t change as his eyes raked over your nearly naked body, drifting from your eyes to your lips and catching on your cleavage. “Don’t I know it, sweetheart.” he whispered, before pushing off the wall. “Hot tub’s already heated, just push off the cover and hit the green button. I’ll be down in a sec.”

And then he was walking down the hall to what you could only assume was his bedroom. For a moment, you thought about following him… but if you were honest with yourself, you were actually pretty curious about this hot tub. So down the stairs you went, carrying a silver can of sour in each hand.

Eddie’s basement was cozy, but he had utilized the space to its full potential. The majority had been filled with workout equipment to create a home gym, the walls lined with floor to ceiling mirrors that created the illusion of a larger space than it actually was. Sitting on stylish wooden slats was the hot tub, topped with a brown leather cover. To the right of the hot tub was a door with a small window that was just at your eye level. Upon closer inspection… yep, that was a sauna. Eddie had a sauna. 

Shaking your head in disbelief, you made a mental note to ask Eddie what he did for a living- as far as you could tell, he was the only one who lived here. How did a single guy in his forties have so much money to burn? 

Placing yours and Eddie’s drinks down on a nearby surface, you removed the cover from the hot tub and pressed the green button as Eddie had instructed, and settled into the hot, bubbling water. God, it was relaxing. Just then, you heard footsteps descending the stairs.

Eddie appeared, his hair let down from his normal messy bun so that it fell in dark chocolate curls that cascaded over his shoulders. His swim trunks, simple and black with little white skulls lining the cuffs above his knees, hugged his thighs in a way that made you salivate. Tattoos you'd become all too familiar with danced across his skin, and you suddenly felt the need to taste them.  

Eddie smirked when he saw you getting an eyeful without even trying to hide it. “How’s the water?”

You hummed, relaxing further into jets against your back. “Sooooooo nice.” You sighed. 

Eddie climbed into the hot tub to join you, making you squeal as he practically fell into the water, splashing you as he submerged his head just enough to wet his hair and shake it out like a golden retriever.

You giggled, doing your best to ensure that your hair wasn’t wet enough to make you look like a wet rat. “I’m starting to think you’re a teenage boy trapped in the body of a middle-aged man.” 

Eddie narrowed his eyes at you, tattooed arms stretching out over the edges of the tub as he relaxed into the seat across from you. “Hey now,” he said, voice laced with warning. “Careful with the term middle-aged there, kiddo.”

You matched his gaze, challenging. “Kiddo?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Eddie’s gaze was heavy, cocky as he looked down his nose at you. “Practically a baby.”

You grinned. “That one, I don’t mind.”

Eddie’s smile grew in tandem. “Oh, she likes to be ‘baby’, but not ‘kiddo’, huh?”

You leaned back into the water, looking up at the ceiling with a smug smile on your lips. “That’s right, grandpa.”

Suddenly, you felt a tug on your ankle and you were underwater. You emerged, spitting chlorine out of your mouth, struggling to force it from your nose as Eddie’s cackling rang in your ears. You gasped, sputtering in shock as you tried to catch your breath. 

“You are a child!” you squealed as he tugged your ankle again- you hadn’t noticed his hold still grasping tightly- not forceful enough to bring you back under the surface but enough to remind you that he could.

“So not a grandpa, then?” Eddie teased, stroking the curve of your ankle with his thumb. 

You gritted your teeth together, strategizing. “No, that would be too kind. You’ve got the maturity of a teenager. Luckily for me-” 

Using Eddie’s grip on your ankle as leverage, you forcefully pulled yourself forward by your leg and launched yourself right into his lap, bending your knees so that a second later, you were straddling him. 

You watched triumphantly as Eddie’s eyes widened, looking up at you with breath that hitched in his throat as you finished your sentence. 

“-I know how boys like you think.”

The humor between the two of you dissipated in that instant, Eddie’s eyes blown wide and dark as he watched the way the water in your hair dripped down your neck and between your breasts, which were now inches from his face. If he leaned forward, he could catch that bead of water with his tongue. If he reached up, he could hold your tits in his hands, test their weight. Press them up, squish them together, squeeze…

You felt him growing hard beneath you, and smirked triumphantly. “See?” You said smugly, grinding against him teasingly. “Right on schedule.”

Eddie chuckled, his breathing strained as he shook his head exasperatedly. “Got me all figured out, do you princess?” 

You nodded, finding your rhythm as you continued to grind against his hardening cock through his swim trunks. “I think I’m starting to.”

You shivered despite the warmth as Eddie trailed his hand from your ankle up your leg, your hip, your waist…finally resting at the apex of your sternum to splay across your neck. You hadn’t been expecting that- you faltered, breath hitching as he tested out a gentle squeeze and hummed to himself.

“Mmmmm…” He looked you over with passive attention, taking account of the way your eyes widened and your pulse quickened under his thumb. “...you know, I’m starting to figure you out too.” His other hand cupped your hip, pulling you to sit directly on his erection and holding you in place so you couldn’t grind. “You’re used to getting away with shit you know you shouldn’t do, isn’t that right, baby?” You sighed softly in response, pinned into place by his lust-blown eyes. You balanced on a precipice- on one side, obedience, which you knew would satisfy him. On the other, eventual obedience with a little bit more fight; more of a gamble, but you were willing to bet that he would enjoy that best.

“You really thought you could eye-fuck me every damn afternoon,” Eddie said, his hand on your neck moving lower to fondle one of your breasts over your swimsuit. “-and there wouldn’t be consequences?”

You breathed heavily, chest rising and falling under his hand. “I mean…” you drawled, still smiling smugly despite his authoritative tone of voice. “...I was kinda hoping for consequences.” you brought both hands out of the water, gesturing vaguely to the room around you. “I’m here, aren’t I?” 

A second passed before Eddie’s hands suddenly grabbed both of your wrists, forcing them behind your back. You gasped, cheeks hot from the water and the position you were in, straddling his lap with both shoulders shoved back to force your breasts front and center. He saw the look in your eyes and leaned forward, lips brushing the shell of your ear. 

“I can get rough sometimes, baby.” he said, voice low and husky. “Tell me it’s too much at any point and I’ll stop, okay?” You nodded, a shy little mm-hm escaping your bitten lips. Eddie crossed your wrists over each other, holding them behind your back with one hand as his newly free one reached up to caress your cheek. 

“Fucking Christ, you’re cute.” he mumbled. “Cute little baby, all alone in her parents’ big house all day, so bored she had to go and be a slut for the neighbor. That right, baby?”

Your eyes were wide and wet, mouth opened in a slight pout as you ground your freed hips on his hard cock once again, whimpering needily. You nodded your head up and down, eager to hear more filthy words tumble from his lips. 

Eddie wasn’t satisfied with that. A hand came up to grasp your hair at the base of your neck, tugging on it firmly but not painfully to force your head to nod up and down emphatically. “Use your words, baby, say ‘yes, daddy, I was a slut.’”

You gasped, surprised. You’d never called anyone daddy besides your actual father, and you’d certainly never called anyone that in the bedroom- or a hot tub, for that matter. However, his brazen demand that you call him that while you straddled him like this sent rolling waves of pleasure straight to the apex of your thighs. 

“Y-yes… daddy…” You struggled against your instinct to be embarrassed, arching your back against your restrained hands and looking down shyly at your cleavage. “...I was a slut.”

“Look at me.”

Your eyes flicked up to his, wide and obedient. He was smiling at you, beaming with pride and adoration. His hand slid from your hair to the back of your neck, pulling your face to his. “Good girl, baby.” he praised, “I’m gonna kiss you, is that okay?”

You nodded eagerly. “Yes, please!”

That earned you a chuckle. “So polite, baby girl, good job.” 

Eddie’s lips felt like the most comforting thing that a person could feel on their skin. His kiss felt like fresh sheets still warm from the dryer. His tongue was like a strawberry that was perfectly ripe, sweet and wet and a rush of relief. He explored you, he learned you, his lips devoured all they could reach and whenever they couldn’t reach, his tongue took over to fill in the blanks. 

As you whimpered and squirmed in his lap, Eddie cooed, “What’s the matter, baby, something wrong with your legs?”

You shook your head, moaning into his mouth. “I need something on my clit, Eddie.”

“Something? You’ll just take anything on that clit baby? Is that what you're saying?”

You panted, straining against his rock hard dick for some kind of friction. He was right, you would take anything. “Yes, please touch me, Eddie.”

He made no move to do so, only looking at you pointedly with his eyebrows raised. When you realized your mistake, you corrected, “Please touch me, daddy.”

He smiled smugly, a cat watching a mouse. “Good girl,” he praised, “but I’m not sure you’ve earned that.” 

Your face fell, eyes going wide as your lips formed a full-on pout. “But-” you began to stutter, but Eddie wasn’t finished. 

He let go of you, pushing you gently off you and guiding you under the water to one of the seats in the corner of the tub. The jets coming off it were strong, nearly too much on your back as you turned to sit, but Eddie stopped you before you could settle into the seat. 

“Princess, I want you to keep your knees open and ride your pussy on that jet stream until you cum.” 

Your jaw dropped open. Whipping your chin over your shoulder to look at him in his seat opposite you, you stared and waited for him to specify or maybe apologize for misspeaking- there’s no way you heard him right. But then he repeated himself, and you realized that yes, you had. 

“Press your pussy up against that jet stream under the water, and make yourself cum. Don’t use your hands. Don’t rush. I want you to fall apart in my hot tub, and I’m going to stroke my dick while I watch you do it. That okay, sweetheart?”

You were learning a lot of new information about your neighbor today. 

You smiled devilishly over your shoulder at him, taking in the sight of him lounging in the opposite corner of the tub as he took in the sight of you. “You’re a kinky motherfucker, aren’t you?” 

Eddie reached across the tub and wound an arm around your waist, pulling you in for a quick but heated kiss. “Yeah, I am.” he murmured into your lips before pushing you back toward the jets. “Now make yourself cum, I want you tight.”

He laughed at the pathetic little whimper that you let slip involuntarily as you situated yourself against the jet stream. You balanced your weight on your knees, spreading your legs enough to open your pussy further inside your swimsuit. Once the pulsing stream of water made contact with your clit, your automatic impulse was to flinch away; the stream was strong, almost too strong. However, with a little shifting and repositioning, you eventually found an angle that pulled a moan from your mouth that sounded almost pornographic.

“That’s it, baby girl,” you heard Eddie’s rough voice behind you, and you couldn’t help but sneak a peak over your shoulder at him. Eddie sat with legs spread open and one arm slung over the lip of the tub, his other hand palming the erection you knew was only growing harder over his swim trunks. This told you he was a patient man, a man who liked to be teased a little before taking what he wanted. A man who liked to play with his food before he ate it. 

You could play, too.

You pulled your eyebrows together, pouting your lips the way you’d seen him react to earlier. “Am I doing it right for you, daddy?” You moved your hips up and down against the jet, putting on a little show for him.

Eddie raised a brow, amused. “I don’t think I can answer that question for you, sweetheart.” he said, sighing heavily with pleasure as he tilted his head this way and that to take you in from every angle. “Don’t worry about me, baby, just make yourself feel good.” 

You smiled shyly, nodding in response and turning your attention back to the jets. You maneuvered your hips against them, grinding on the strong jetstream as it hit your clit at angles that you didn’t even know existed. You lost yourself in the sensation, letting your eyes fall closed and humming little sounds to yourself as your heart rate picked up, that familiar pleasure bubbling up in your lower belly  as your movements grew faster and more desperate. 

Eager to see if Eddie was enjoying himself as much as you were, you glanced over your shoulder to look at him. What you saw was breathtaking- Eddie, his wet curls clinging to his dewy skin, muscles flexing under his tattoos as he fisted his cock underwater. You couldn’t see it clearly due to the raging bubbles, but the flesh-colored underwater blur was enough for you to know exactly what he was doing. You had known he would jack off to you- he’d outright told you he planned to- but seeing it was enough to turn you on so much that it became the thing that pushed you over the edge.

“Daddy, I’m cumming!” 

You moaned, mouth hanging open as you rode out your orgasm against the harsh stream of the jets, overwhelmed and overstimulated by the physical feeling and the intense eye contact that you held with Eddie the entire time as your body gyrated and spasmed. He watched you with hungry eyes, lapping up the scene in its entirety and committing every second to memory. 

“Good girl, good fucking girl, keep fucking that jet, baby.”

You whimpered, hips jerking away from the stream as it hit your clit at an angle that was a little too intense, and your limp, still-needy body floated over to Eddie. He chuckled, still stroking his cock lightly in the warm water. “Aw, I’m sorry baby, was that too much?”

You shook your head, still eager for him- he’d barely even touched you, and yet you were so desperate for this man. “No, I can take more.”

His eyes had a darkness to them that made your breath hitch. “How much can you take, sweetheart?” 

You moved to straddle your knees on either side of one of his thighs, not close enough to grind against his cock, but certainly in a perfect position to rub your pussy along his leg, teasing him. “I’ll take whatever you wanna give me, daddy.”

A low groan sounded from deep in Eddie’s chest. “You might regret saying that one, babe.”

You couldn’t resist matching his warning with a challenge. “Bring it on.” you said sweetly, and it incited a little chuckle in him. He reached back and pressed a button on the hot tub, causing all of the bubbles to stop. 

“Get out, dry off.” he said, nodding to the neatly folded towels he’d placed beside the hot tub. “You look like you could use a shower.”

You stayed put, confused. “You… but…”

He cut you off, cupping his wet hands against your face. You could feel the pads of his fingers on your cheeks, wrinkled from prolonged time under the water’s surface. “Sorry, sweetheart, I forgot you don’t like following instructions unless you know you’re getting something out of it.” You scoffed at his condescending tone, but all he did was smile. “What I meant to say was- get out. Dry off. I’m going to fuck you in my shower. Mmkay?”

Your eyes widened, excited by his words and elated by a strange submissive, post-orgasmic euphoria. “Okay.” you replied, but when you saw his testy look in response you quickly amended, “Okay daddy.”

“Good girl.”

The two of you dried off before heading back upstairs. Eddie let you down the hall to his bedroom, which you were sure was filled with so many interesting mementos on the walls that you were sure it would take you hours to study all of it. The first thing to catch your eye was the golden record, framed and mounted beside his dresser. When Eddie saw you looking at it, he supplied an answer without waiting for you to ask. 

“Ever heard of a band called Corroded Coffin?”

You searched your brain but came up empty. “No, I don’t think I have.”

Eddie chuckled to himself, like you’d just participated in a joke you weren’t in on. “Most people haven’t. But I bet you’ve heard the song Upside Down on the radio, yeah?” He hummed a couple bars of the chorus, which you recognized instantly. 

“Oh yeah! I love that song!”

Eddie grinned. “‘Preciate it, babe.”

Shocked, you glanced up at the record and back to him. “Wait, you wrote that song?”

He shrugged as if to brush it off, but you could tell he was proud. “It was a group effort, my band and I wrote and recorded it together. After that, though, when the offers for record deals and tours and shit started pouring in, it became clear to most of the band members that this wasn’t what they wanted to do for the rest of their lives- band broke up on good terms, we just had some differences when it came to future plans.” He reached up and stroked the frame affectionately with his thumb. “But one-hit-wonder money was still enough to get my name out there, make some smart investments. I’m a music producer now.”

So that’s how he made all this money. The big empty house made sense now. “That’s pretty cool, actually.” you said, smiling at Eddie. You relished the sensation of his hands as they slid around your waist. 

“You wanna see something even cooler?” 

Before you could answer, Eddie was scooping you up into his arms and tossing you over his shoulder. You squealed, laughing as his palm hit your ass cheek with a loud smack! He carried you into his bathroom, placing you on his vanity counter before kissing the laughing smile right off your face. You felt his hands as they worked your bathing suit off you, freeing your breasts from the confines of the damp fabric. Eddie wasted no time, pulling one of your tits into his hand and encircling your nipple with his mouth, sucking sensually. You moaned, hands fisting into his hair. He only left your skin to turn around and turn on the shower, giving the water a chance to heat up. 

Once the bathroom had sufficiently filled with steam, Eddie picked you up from the counter, pulling your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck. You kissed him greedily, wetly, and hungrily as he walked the two of you into his spacious tiled shower, which was larger than your dorm room closet back at school. 

You relaxed your legs around him in a silent ask for Eddie to put you down, which he obliged. The moment your feet hit the wet tiled floor, you began to sink to your knees until…

You snorted. 

“Why do you still have your swim trunks on?” 

Eddie had taken the time to take off your bathing suit, but you hadn’t even realized that even after carrying you into the shower, he hadn’t even taken a second to undress himself. 

He looked down, noticing this for the first time, same as you. “I, uh… I don’t know. I was-” he flashed you a smirk that was equal parts embarrassed and sexy. “-preoccupied, I guess.”

You couldn’t help but laugh as you knelt before him, now eye-level with the drawstring of his swim trunks. “Well let me fix that, then.” you said softly, working your delicate fingers into the waistband and pulling his trunks down until they hit the floor. 

God. He was a sight to behold. And you were right, he did have thigh tattoos. They were large, twisting images of hellish creatures, undoubtedly older but still in good shape since- judging by the paleness of the skin they decorated- they probably never saw the light of day. 

You reached up, lightly tracing them as you turned your gaze to his cock. It was at full mast, eager and waiting for your mouth to encircle it and, hopefully, make Eddie moan your name. 

Which he did. 

The way your lips covered the head of his cock, the way your tongue generously licked the shaft under, over, around, the way your hands were warm and welcoming as they lightly played with his balls- all of it made him moan, gasp, groan your name. He called you baby, called you princess, moaned and pulled your hair as he fucked your mouth, and you just about burst into flames when he shoved his cock so far down your throat that you swallowed on it accidentally, pulling a growled “Goddamnit, sweetheart, fuck-” from his lips. 

When he pulled you off his dick by your hair, his eyes were humorless and hungry. He crouched down, leveling your eyes under the hot water from the showerhead. 

“Are you on birth control, sweet girl?” he asked. 

You nodded, “I have an IUD.”

He kissed your forehead firmly, one hand still fisted in your hair. “Good girl,” he murmured. “Now I can grab a condom, they’re right over there in the cabinet under my sink.” he continued, nodding vaguely in the sink’s direction. “But baby, I have been fantasizing about the way your pussy’s gonna feel for a long ass time and I hate to ask you this, and you’re allowed to say no, but-”

“Fuck me raw Eddie.” You wanted it. You needed it. You needed him. “I fantasize about it too. I think about it every day, I touch myself to you before going to sleep and wake up wishing your cock was the thing waking me up. When I’m lying by the pool reading those stupid smutty novels and some lord is fucking a lady in waiting up against a wall, I can’t focus on it! I can’t because I want it to be you and I want to feel your cock inside me, and I want it to be your cum that drips down my thighs and your lips on my-”

He cut you off there, splaying his free hand on your neck and kissing you until you were laid horizontally on the hot, wet floor. He climbed on top of you, and in a moment your mouth fell open at the sensation of his hard cock splitting you open from the inside. He didn’t spend a moment waiting for you to adjust to his size or murmuring praises into your ear- he knew you wanted all of him, and you knew he wanted all of you, and that was all you needed. You moaned, you practically screamed, and above all you clutched him for dear life.

“Dirty girl,” Eddie growled into your ear, thrusting into you deep and hard. “Dirty books, dirty mind-” 

He leaned back so that his face was directly above yours and grabbed your cheeks, squeezing to force your mouth open. Your lips parted, and Eddie spat harshly into your mouth before shoving your mouth closed around it. His eyes were feral, wild with lust and dominance. “Swallow.” he commanded, you obeyed in an instant. He felt your throat moving against his hand and smiled deviously. “Dirty mouth, too.”

He picked up his pace, spearing into you at a pace so relentless that you couldn’t even keep track of the noises coming out of your mouth- an incoherent stream of sounds and swear that would have made a sailor blush. He matched your dirty noises with his own, all the while dicking you down into his shower floor as your brain went haywire at the lewd noises of skin slapping against skin that echoed through the bathroom. 

“God, this pussy is so fucking tight,” Eddie groaned, “good girl, cumming so hard for daddy back there. You gonna cum on my cock this time?”

You moaned, “Need something on my clit, daddy.” 

Eddie pecked your lips with his own, and the way it made your heart skip a beat was like a reward. “Good girl, always tell me what you need, okay?”

You nodded, smiling giddily from the sudden subby euphoria. “Okay, daddy.” You made a mental note that kissing Eddie Munson while his cock was inside you gave you your new favorite kind of high.

Eddie reached down and began drawing small, soft circles with his fingertip on your clit. The richly gentle sensation was decadent, pulling deeper, louder moans from you as Eddie continued to fuck you. “Oh I feel you getting tighter, baby girl, that feel good?”

“Yes!” you practically yelled it. 

“Yes what?” He taunted.

“Yes daddy!” you cried, arching your back against the tile. He was fucking you ruthlessly, ravaging you mentally, and the way his dirty words melted into you made your brain go so hazy that you weren’t sure if your vision was clouding or if it was just the steam in the air. 

Your release was growing closer, that heat in your core coiling tighter and tighter, ready to burst with pleasure. “I’m gonna cum soon, daddy.” you whined. 

Eddie’s dick hit you in that perfect spot inside over and over, and you leaned your face against his hand as he cupped your cheek affectionately. “Yeah? You gonna make a mess all over daddy’s dick?” You pouted, nodding ‘yes’ in response. Eddie smiled at the way you could be so cute and so filthy at the same time- he fucking loved it. “That’s probably gonna make me cum, sweetheart, you want that? That pussy’s gonna grip my cock so tight that it fills you with cum, huh?”

You were whimpering and pouting and letting the sluttiest little sobs fall from you now. “Yes, daddy, fill me with cum, please!”

“You want me to fill you with cum? Fuck all that cum inside you?”

“Yes!”

“Yes what, sweetheart, gotta tell me whose dick you’re cumming on-”

“Daddy!” you cried, “Daddy’s dick, I’m cumming on daddy’s dick!”

“Fuuuck, yes, cum on daddy’s dick you little slut-”

Eddie’s filthy words tumbled from his lips as your pussy pulsed around him, fluttering walls squeezing him tight from the aching pleasure that shot through you. His cum filled you, and the size of his load reflected just how long it had been since he’d cum into anything that wasn’t his own hand. When he finally pulled out, a stream of both your releases oozed out of your hole and onto the floor. Eddie stared at it, fascinated, and he silently used his finger to catch the milky liquid and push it back into your hole. You whimpered, overly sensitive and puffy, your pussy lips inflamed and screaming, but Eddie was gentle as he sheathed his finger completely inside you, ensuring that his seed stayed exactly where he’d put it in the first place.

He pulled you up to a sitting position, smiling gently. “Hi.” he whispered, placing a soft kiss on your temple. 

“Hi.” you giggled, a giant smile stretching out across your face, blissed-out and more than satisfied. 

Eddie stroked your wet hair out of your face, gazing down at you adoringly. “I’m sorry if that was a little… much,” he winced. “I may have gotten carried away, usually I would talk to you to see if that kind of stuff would be okay, but I was just so fired up-”

“Eddie,” you interrupted softly. “I loved it.”

He grinned, grateful and relieved. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” 

Eddie pulled you against him, your body fitting itself nicely against his naked chest as water poured over the two of you from above while you sat holding each other on the floor of his shower. He sighed, completely and utterly content. “Yeah.”

***

The rest of the summer days in your parents’ neighborhood went like this: 

Wake up imagining what you and Eddie would do today. Touch yourself when necessary.

Do whatever chores needed doing around the house, sometimes making batches of lemonade for Eddie when you knew he would be working on his lawn that day. 

Lounge by your pool and read a book- this part hadn’t changed. 

Spend the rest of the afternoon at Eddie’s. These afternoons usually consisted of activities like discussing the whatever book you were reading, drinking whatever strange new beer Dustin had come up with, and fucking each other’s brains out. 

The next month, Eddie celebrated his birthday. He didn’t throw a rager (true to his word) but he did have a little get-together. To your surprise, he invited you. 

You got to meet his friends, their kids, their dogs- and see the way Eddie smiled for hours without reprieve when they were around. This whole summer, you’d been figuring this man out bit by bit, but it wasn’t until that night that you truly felt like you knew him. 

You baked him a cake, as promised. Three layers of funfetti sponge, vanilla frosting and decorated with oreo crumbs and rainbow letters that spelled out “Happy birthday, Eddie, forever young”.

He wasn’t this way with the rest of the neighbors. To them, he would always be Mr. 1405 Peach Tree Lane, but with these people? With his friends? He was Eddie Munson. Now, you were included in that group of people who were allowed to know him, and how wonderful he really was. 

You felt so incredibly lucky that you were a part of that.

[odoraful]

𝐀𝐍 𝐀𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐂 𝐄𝐘𝐄

it was one of the few days zayne had returned home earlier than sunset. he opened the door to the apartment to find you painting your nails. after a shower and some short pleading on your part, he was seated in front of you, hands laid out on the table for you to do his nails.

content: zayne x fem!reader; established relationship; small banter! ; greyson apperance; ~1k words a/n: i've been dipping in and out of writing, so i thought i'd make something short to get me back into practice :)

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“Hand tremors aren’t good for dexterity, you know,” Zayne quipped, gazing at your expression as you applied the polish.

You looked up at him through your lashes and he smirked at the flat stare you gave him. With a slight tilt of his head, he enjoyed how animated your reactions were to his remarks. Towel-dried hair brushed past his brows, framing his discerning hazel eyes. Did he always need to be this handsome while poking fun at you? Your hands weren’t shaky before, but they certainly felt so now.

“Oh hush.”

Putting the brush back in the bottle to collect more polish, you reset your focus.

“Just ‘cause you’re a surgeon, doesn’t mean you’d make a good nail artist,” you retorted, bringing your eyes back to your work.

You were currently on the last nail, painting it a navy blue to match the others you already finished. Zayne’s nails were well kept and trimmed short, making for a perfect canvas for you. Whilst it was rare for surgeons to wear polish, he assured that it wouldn’t be an issue so long as it did not chip. He wanted you to do it for him, anyway. Having your undivided attention on him was a perfect way to unwind after a long day at the hospital.

“And what other qualifiers need to be met besides a still hand?” he asked, teasing giving way to curiousity.

You finished up the last nail with a few glides of the brush. “An eye for aesthetics,” you declared, moving the blue nail polish aside and selecting two more colours among your collection.

“Now, pick the colour for the design.”

You presented two colours to him. A cool silver embedded with fine glitter, and a rustic gold. His eyes flicked between the two. Mind having been made up almost the second you asked.

“Silver.”

You hummed. “An excellent choice.” Shaking the polish, the glitter dispersed throughout. “Perhaps you might consider nail tech as a side job, Dr Zayne.”

Waiting for his nails to dry before you could begin the next layer, you lightly fanned them with both your hands. He chuckled—both at your comment and your cute attempt to try and speed the drying process.

“My primary job keeps me busy enough,” he replied. “Besides, I don’t have much of an eye for aesthetics.”

You were reminded of the palette of his closet. Blacks, greys, browns, and the only splash of colour being a deep green shirt. Though somewhat monotone, it did suit him well.

He continued, “I think I’ll leave that expertise up to my girlfriend.”

Your breath caught in your throat. Mouth opened ever so slightly, not wanting to reveal the way every use of that nickname slipped under your skin and made your heart skip.

You began to draw tiny snowflakes on each of them with the silver polish. Zayne admired the furrowed concentration on your face as you were locked into this task. When the design had dried, you finished by squeezing some cream onto his hands. He let out a soft sigh as you massaged it in, feeling the tension of the day release under your gentle touch.

Once you were done, you stretched your arms out and twisting around to crack your back. You held his fingers in your hands, inspecting them.

“Look how pretty they are!” You bubbled.

Zayne was honestly floored. The level of coordination it took to paint something so small was incredible.

“They’re very pretty indeed.”

You were too enthralled by your own work to see the warm smile on his face at how satisfied you were.

“Now, that’ll be sixty dollars,” you said, looking up at him smugly, placing your hands on your hips in waiting.

Zayne lifted a brow. “Do you accept payment in desserts?”

“Hm… an interesting offer,” you placed a hand on your chin in mock thought. “What kind?”

“Will each flavour of macaron at the shop that just opened suffice?” he replied. The sparkle in your eyes signalled that it was more than enough to cover the cost of your service. Promptly, the two of you went outside to resolve his payment. You walked hand in hand, matching one another with freshly painted nails.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

EPILOGUE

At Akso Hospital the next day, peoples’ gazes lingered a little too long at Zayne. As he handed out folders to nurses and gestured to screens when presenting, eyes trailed on his hands. Now, it wasn’t unusual for doctors to wear polish, but it was unusual for Zayne to have it. Another layer of mystery to unravel about the cardiac surgeon.

Greyson entered Zayne’s office to drop off some documents, sliding them towards him on his desk. “Going to some fancy event later?”

Zayne adjusted his glasses, not looking away from his computer screen. “Unless you consider a seminar at the university as fancy, I’m not sure what you’re implying.”

He gestured towards the keyboard Zayne was typing on. “I’m talking about your nails! Don’t tell me you really just got them done for fun?” Greyson asked, incredulous.

“I did.” Zayne splayed his hand out. “Is that so strange?”

“No! Not at all!” Greyon reassured, shaking his head fervently. “They do look nice though,” he admitted. “Maybe I should get their number so I can get mine done too.”

“She doesn’t take up new clientele, unfortunately,” Zayne said, resuming his typing.

At such a quick defence, Greyson immediately clocked who this person was. He was one of the few that were privy to the relationship between you and Zayne, and he knew only you could make Dr Zayne change up his style.

Exaggerating a sigh, he turned to leave. “A true shame! She sure seems talented.”

“I’ll make sure to pass that on to her,” he heard Zayne reply. Though his back was to Zayne, the smile in his voice as he answered was undeniable.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

[bluerosefox]

Bellatrix Star

A TaliaxDanny idea that came to me.

Damian, Bruce, and the rest of the bats discover the Talia al Ghul they had been fighting against, the one that cloned her own son, had the clone kill him, plant a control device in him when he broke his spine, etc etc was actually not the real Talia al Ghul.

Turned out Ra's had cloned her and killed the original when she discovered his little plans to take over Damain's body and she confronted him about it. Ra's had to make a clone when after tossing a dead Talia into the pits but never returned (he meant to kill her as a warning, as a "you may be my blood but will not hesitate to end you Talia.") It explains so much to Damian when remembers how out of nowhere his mother changed, her training him changed from harsh to deadly, the soft motherly love she would give him when behind closed doors suddenly stopped, the tales she would spin for him about his father no longer whispered to him for bed.

How this was find out?

Well it's hard to ignore the facts that when your foolish grandfather in his quest for immortality summons an eldritch being known as the Ghost King into the Mortal Realm and uses Damian as a sacrifice while his (not) mother watches emotionless.

When the being appeared, plunging the room from green glowing flames and the glow of the Lazarus Pits into darkness before a cosmos exploded to life, its glowing green eyes snapped open in the stars and stared at them all. Making every single one of them feel small, so very small.

It took a single glance around the room before stopping on the al Ghul's. It's eyes widen before a steel and firm look entered them. Just as quick as the cosmos sprang to life, it suddenly swirled away into a ball, putting them all back into the Lazarus room,and reformed in front of them to a more humanish height and body.

When the body, around the height and build of Batman, was done forming it took a step forward and suddenly as one blinked a man stood in front of them. Or rather floated. Snow white hair that flickered and wisped towards a crown made of fire and ice, glowing green eyes that held none of the madness but all of the power the Lazarus Pits could give. His clothing were tailored made that were tastefully a mixture of black and white with some silvers and greens, clothes fit for a King one would say. The cosmos that once engulfed the room had shifted into a cloak that hanged around his body, on one side more than the other (think like how CW wears his only the hood is down).

This, this was no doubt the Ghost King, he stood tall and regal and made everyone in the room feel the need to look down, to bow ones head for even just a moment. Even Ra's had trouble disobeying the urge to do so.

"Well..." the being said, his voice deep but not as gravely as Batman's was "What an interesting way to meet my In-Laws and Step-Son..."

He has said that as he looked towards the al Ghul's. Damian flinched back with a frown of confusion and disbelief while Ra's looked panicked for a second when the words registered into his mind, meanwhile Talia... looked emotionless and barely even twitched.

"What the fu-?" Someone began only to stop when the King lifted his hand and with a snap of his fingers a green portal appeared, it looked almost like the Lazarus Pits but it felt... cleaner? Less angry?

"My Bellatrix, my warrior star. I believe I've been summoned to your home dimension. And judging by the looks of it your father created a barely functioning Mirror of you and planned on using your son as a sacrifice to me." He spoke out towards the portal before holding his hand out.

A hand appeared from the portal, a slender hand and with green and black painted nails manicure to perfection before someone walked through it as they took hold of the Ghost King's offering hand.

Standing in front of them was another Talia, only this one looked a tad older than the one in the room. She wore clothing that matched the King to a T but even then, as always, Talia looked deadly in it. Beautiful but very deadly. From the heels she wore to the crown upon her head, a crown made of not ice and fire but of stars and black jewels. Her eyes were sharp as she stared at everyone in the room, frown on her painted lips, but her eyes lit with a small soft joy when she saw Damian only for them to turn poisonous when they landed on Ra's and the other Talia nearby.

"I should had know you would had created a Mirror of me instead of admitting to my son you killed me Father." Queen Talia spat out. "The least you could had done was not make my Mirror so cheaply, it doesn't even have a proper soul attached to it."

[wileys-russo]

“Awe bubba, you’re the best little golfer I know babe”, Leah Williamson

in the same universe as legacy l.williamson II little golfer

"can i come out yet?" you yelled out with a sigh, banished to the bedroom while leah and mila got up to god knows what. with there being no games this weekend leah had decreed sunday was family day and that she would organise everything, so you had no idea what the three of you would be doing.

"yes!"

you huffed in relief at the sound of your wifes voice, pulling yourself off the bed and opening the door. "oh my god." you exhaled, suddenly getting a sneaky suspicion you could work out what it was leah had planned for the day.

"i look like mummy!" mila cheered bouncing eagerly on the balls of her feet as leah grinned proudly, hands on her hips clearly pleased with herself. "aw bubba, you're the best little golfer i know babe." your wife cooed encouragingly, fixing the cap on your daughters head slightly.

"when on earth did you buy her those?" you sighed, your now four year old daughter dressed up exactly like your wife was, wearing matching plaid pants, white button up and bowlers cap as your wife, clearly dressed up for a day on the green.

"when you were away with aunty steffy!" mila answered, which was a few weeks ago now. "you took her to the club with you? leah she's four!" you shook your head in disbelief.

"i've been gettin lessons! got my own clubs too." mila puffed her chest out proudly as leah's grin grew even wider. "of course you do. so is that what this grand family day out is then? an excuse to drag me to the golf club?" you deadpanned, leah shooing mila off to grab her backpack from her room.

"baby." leah started toward you with a charming smile as you shook your head, arms crossed and staring her down. "come on. you know you love it when she dresses up like a little adult, and she's got a good swing on her! is it so wrong of me to want to pass on my golfing prowess to my little legacy?" your wife reasoned, arriving in front of you with a pout.

"no. but why do i have to be dragged into it, lee i love you very much but i hate golf!" you whined throwing your head back with a groan. "for the sake of our marriage i'm going to pretend i didn't hear that." leah tutted with a shake of her head.

"theres an outfit all laid out for you in the spare room. the sun is shining, mila slept through the entire night in her own bed, we're going to have a perfect little family day out my girl. you'll see!"

only, you didn't see.

you sat with a frown etched into your features, sulking heavily as you watched on as leah would take the long drives, allowing your daughter to swing once you got a little closer to the hole.

you thought that the silver lining might be driving the golf cart, but your wife wouldn't even allow that insisting on being the chauffeur for the day as well.

"stop bein so stroppy. you're a bad influence!" leah chuckled as you scoffed, your retort cut off by her soft lips pressing against yours.

"yuck! no kissin!" a tiny body wedged themselves between you, pushing on leahs legs and sending her backward as mila climbed up and onto your lap.

"my mama, no kissin her!" mila warned your wife, wagging a finger at her and brightening your mood at the shock written across leah's face.

"your mama? kid thats my wife! she was that before you were born." leah poked at mila who stuck her tongue out and shrugged, arms latched tightly around your neck.

"she loves me more." mila grinned cheekily as leah gasped and dropped her golf club, falling to her knees. "oh my god...you've done it. mila you've broke my heart, oh it hurts!" leah wailed dramatically rolling about in the grass as you rolled your eyes and mila giggled.

"no being silly on the golf course!" mila lectured echoing leah's own words back as you snickered and covered your laugh with your hand. "don't you even care you broke my heart! thats not silly!" leah cried out, falling to her back again with a yell of pain.

"your wife is silly." mila sighed, patting your cheek with her small hand as you made no attempt to hide your laughter this time. "mila!" leah huffed, getting up to her feet and brushing the dirt off her.

"right fine then tiger woods. if i'm so silly watch this!" leah picked her driver back up, striding over and teeing up her ball, readying her stance. "don't miss!" you yelled right as she wound up to swung, indeed resulting in an air swing and mila's giggles.

"no noise in the crowd please, course etiquette." leah warned but you grinned at the clench in her jaw. "air swing!" you yelled again at the same time, leah just clipping the ball and only sending it about fifty meters forward as she exhaled.

"shit!" she swore, kicking the grass and pausing for a moment, mila thankfully too preoccupied chasing a bird to notice. "leah! language." you hissed nodding behind you as the blonde waved you off, stomping back to the cart.

"lets go." leah scooped your daughter up, mila squealing and kicking her legs happily as leah carried her over by the back of her top, dropping her in your lap.

"air swing. i'll show you an air swing." leah muttered under her breath, cheeks flushed red as you smiled, holding your daughter tightly as leah raced forward in the car and mila cheered.

"hey, lee babe calm down. this is a family day, not your regular nine holes with the lads." you let mila race off after another bird and stopped leah from leaving.

"stop winding me up then!" the blonde whined with a scowl, an apology mumbled against her lips for a second which seemed to calm her as she pulled away and took a deep breath.

"okay. come on mila, your turn!" leah called out, your daughter gasping happily and sprinting back over as leah helped her pick out her club.

"now remember. legs planted, feet outward, eye on the ball." leah coached helping the girl get into position and teeing up a ball for her. "go baby!" you cheered happily, clapping for her as leah took a step back and gestured for your daughter to go.

only after three air swings did you really get a glimpse into your wifes little legacy.

"shit!" mila swore as she missed again, kicking the grass and throwing her club down with a huff, crossing her arms and furrowing her eyebrows, a near mirror to your wifes own poor losing behaviour.

leah's eyes met yours in both worry and shock, though seeing the slight amusement on your face and no real trace of anger she relaxed a little. "hey, come here you." the blonde tugged on the back of your daughters top and squatted down.

"you're doing so so good bubba, way better than any other four year old i know. but we have to learn how to lose gracefully, mummy is still learning that too okay?" leah spoke softly as mila hugged her tightly with a nod.

"hey! are you giggling?" leah gasped as mila pulled away and grinned. "only joking! just being like you." mila wiggled happily, leah watching on stunned as the four year old marched back off and picked up her club, swinging and collecting the ball easily sending it off with a cheer, sprinting off after it with her club in hand as leah looked at you in disbelief and you smirked.

"well congratulations are in order babe, she's exactly like you."

[dalamjisung]

A muted shade of green ✧ Chapter 2: He's not yours to keep

genre: more angst than fluff, but I swear fluff is coming up next!

word count: 5562

pairing: reader x spencer reid

description: you are trying to make sense of all this mess, but it's time to learn that, sometimes, things are just messy and chaotic and you have to learn to look for the silver linings.

a muted shade of green masterlist

previous chapter // next chapter

author's note: I am absolutely over the moon with the response I've gotten on this series and I'm really thankful for all the love and support <3 if you want to join the taglist for this series, please let me know in the comments!

You don’t usually dream. 

Well, actually, if you tell Spencer that, he will say that you’re wrong– you do dream, you just don’t remember it. It’s common, not really recalling the scenes your brain conjure, Spencer would say; it can be due to a series of factors including high levels of stress and poor sleep. He would then tell you to stay home for a day, read a good book, and drink one of his fancy teas Penelope got for him a long time ago. 

But the thing is, Spencer can’t really tell you any of it. 

Not when you seem to be avoiding him even inside his own home. 

It starts after you wake up still in his armchair, feeling exhausted and disgustingly sticky, you finally have a couple of moments to yourself. Spencer is still sleeping, and you’re actually surprised to see him stretched out on the couch– his tie is throw on his coffee table, the purple colour suddenly too bright in the dim apartment, but otherwise, still wearing the same clothes he had on yesterday. You don’t understand why he didn’t change into pyjamas, but then again, you don’t understand much of anything right now. 

So you go through the facts. 

One by one, you list them in your mind– and little by little it dawns on you just how bad this really is. It’s hard, conceptualising that this is reality; that you really do have a psychopath targeting you. It’s the kind of thing that you only saw in those TV shows you loved to binge on late night, the kind of thing you read on the newspaper, happening to other people, but never really you. Except, it is happening to you, and you are not sure what to do next. Do you just sit and wait for her to make a move? Do you continue to live your life normally? How? How are you supposed to ignore the fact that a, as Agent Hotchner had described her, ‘prolific serial killer’ might know who are?

“Oh my god,” You whisper to yourself, head falling in your hands. The watch on your wrist, an old, analogue thing your mom had given you before you left New York, is pointing to a time you would never have been awake before. 5:23 in the morning. The sun is not even up yet and you have hours before you have to open the store, but then again, you have to clean the mess that was left behind due to your rushed departure from it. You wince, disgusted at the thought of having to clean old vomit from the floor, and disgusted with the bitter taste it left behind. Right now, you are a shell of a human being and you need to get yourself back together. 

You follow a familiar routine of recovery. It’s something you’ve done before and something you will surely have to do again, and it all starts with a simple list. 

Firstly, you need to get up. You need to stretch your legs, throw them to the side, and stand. You need to walk, remind your self that you can still make your own path even if it’s only to the bathroom down the hall. 

Then, you need to brush your teeth. The bitter taste stuck to your mouth makes you wince with memories that you want to bury. 

Showering would be your third step, but this is not your home. This is not your space, and these are not your things. 

A pettier side of you, one that is bothered and angry and irritated in a superficial level, wants to march back out to the living room, as loudly as you can, and shake Spencer away. You want to wake him up at the crack of dawn and make him share your torment, because in some level, even if you try to push against it, you blame him. Deep inside, you know that there is a big difference between the two– between blaming him and it being his fault. One is purposeful, conscious; it’s a decision you take and lay on his head. If you blame him, you commit yourself to hate him. The latter, however, is a fact. It’s irrefutable and immutable as the fact that you need air to live. It is his fault, but it was not his goal. 

“He didn’t mean it, but it’s still his fault,” You whisper to yourself, pushing yourself off the sink to try and figure out his shower. It is his house, that’s a fact. But you also deserve a nice, warm shower, and that is another fact. He pushed you to come stay with him, so you need to also push yourself to feel comfortable in this space that feels so foreign to your senses. “He didn’t mean it, but it’s still his fault.”

The words become your mantra. He didn’t mean it, but it’s still his fault. Somewhere in you, you know you have what it takes to forgive, but you just don’t have what it’s needed to forget. By repeating those words, you allow your brain to slowly process this situation as what it is– something that happened because of him, but not by him. As much as you want someone to blame, someone to scream at, Spencer Reid just isn’t that person. 

It takes you a moment to realise you don’t really have a towel or any of your products here, and using Spencer’s shampoo just feels… odd. Like an invasion of his space almost. “Oh thank god for you, Spencer,” You sighed, happy to see the pairing of shampoo and conditioner sitting perfectly on the corner. His hair had been one of the first things you noticed about him, all chestnut and shaggy and longish, but you are aware that not every man knows the basic of self-care. There is something about the way his smell takes over the bathroom, floating with the evaporation of the warm water hitting your skin, makes you smile. You feel closer to Spencer than you’ve ever been, and that is when your sense of danger hits. Your heart starts speeding, and your breathing is suddenly really shallow, and you’re trying to come out of the shower, to breathe in cold air, but all you get is humid mist and you can’t breathe, you can’t breathe at all, you can’t–

“Spencer!” You gasp, eyes wide in desperation once your legs feel like they might just give out. Scrambling to hold yourself up, your hands knock over some things in the counter, making more noise on top of the running shower. “SPENCER!” 

“What? What? What– oh my god,” The door slams against the wall and back, almost hitting him on the side when he crouched down next to your naked, curled up body. It’s quite unnatural for you to witness, him jumping into action so fast, like he is trained to make these decisions in a split second. But then you remember that he actually is trained to make these quick choices– like grabbing the towel before anything else, covering you without a single quip about your nakedness; like sitting you up and putting your back against the wall; like turning off the shower and sitting back down right next to you, breathing deeply and loudly. It’s unconscious, how you let your breathing fall in line with his, and it takes a moment to realise he’s doing this on purpose. “Y/N, are you okay?” 

“No,” You whisper, shaking from either the cold or the nerves or both. There are goosebumps all over your legs, the towel not covering you much from the top of your thighs down. “Spencer, I’m not okay. I’m… Until yesterday, you were just the adorable guy who shared my love for books. Y-You’d come into the store smiling and we’d talk and talk and– and now I have a serial killer possibly tracking me. How am I supposed to be okay? I’m so scared… oh god, I’m so scared, Spencer…” The one thing you are proud, amidst your utter embarrassment, is that you are not crying anymore. You still sound a bit rough, throat tired and hurting, and there is no energy left in you and he can hear that, you know he can, because when your voice echoes in the silent bathroom, kicking from wall to wall, you hear it too– the exhaustion and the numbness and the emptiness left behind. 

“I-I’m still that guy,” He stutters, head falling down in shame but voice still twinged with something resembling hope. “I love books. I love talking to you about books, I love going to your store first thing in the morning. I’m still this guy, I just… I just happen to work for the FBI.”

“Yeah, but I… I think that after having my life turned upside down because of a serial killer who has a crush on you, I’m just not that same girl.”

That is the last time you talk to him that day.

—————————————

Actually, that was the last time you talked to him that entire week. 

After he dropped you at the store that day and you were forced to face the embarrassing remnants of your lowest moment in life, moping old vomit from the floor, that feeling of turmoil in your chest died down. It settled. And it hardened. 

He tried making conversation on the walk back to his, but you’re clearly not up for it, so his voice slowed down, getting lower and lower, until it stopped altogether. This time, you shower before bed and make a beeline to the armchair again, letting Spencer’s begs and pleas for you to sleep on the bed fall in deft ears.

For five days, you two don’t talk. 

It’s a dance of chaos, how you step around each other at the apartment, and seeing him biting his words back or catching a glimpse of the bags under his eyes makes you feel guilty; of course it does. But you know that you can’t help him right now. Even if you were to forgive him, to force your mercy onto the situation, it wouldn’t be genuine. It would give him a false sense of relief while you’d forever be uncomfortable next to him, and you don’t want that. You don’t want to feel on edge next to Spencer, you don’t want to feel nauseous and scared when you’re with him. You want to talk about books and coffee and favourite places to order take out from. Instead, all you get to do is talk about her.

It would be a lie to say you don’t feel slightly jealous with the way that his mind seems to be so wrapped around Cat Adams. The imposed talking ban is hard on you both, that much you know, but the more Spencer let it happen, the more he let it stretch out and continue, the more you feel like maybe he doesn’t care that much. Maybe what is hard for him is the awkward tension trapped in his own apartment, rather than the pain of seeing each other so close yet not being able to laugh like you used to. And you know– you know how ridiculous your thought are, how childish you’re acting, but you can’t really blame yourself for being so on edge lately, not when your emotions are so zip and zapping through your body like thunder and lightening. 

There are exceptions, though. In this case three exceptions, three moments in a day in which he brakes the ban, and you, for once, allow yourself some weakness. 

“Good morning,” Is moment one. He says that every day, when he blinks himself awake on the couch. Ever since you’ve been there, a total of six days now, Spencer has slept on the couch, right next to the armchair you’ve claimed as your own. For these, you meet his eyes and nod, as if saying same to you.

Breakfast is quiet. He makes coffee and you make eggs, because despite you being there under forced circumstances, you are not going to be ungrateful and so you pay him back by getting groceries and cooking most meals. Which leads you to exception number two– the moment when he drops you at the bookstore.

You two walk there at 8 and he’s gone by 8:07, giving you enough time to mumble a “Be safe,” and give him his lunch for the day. He tried telling you that you didn’t have to cook for him, but you don’t really listen. As pathetic as it seems, this is the one way you’ve found to keep what you two had before, alive. 

The third exception is the one that truly breaks your heart, again and again. It’s when he gets home, and he looks exhausted, and his hands fidget with the files he holds close to his chest. You are the first thing he looks for, and you almost melt at the way his shoulders visibly relax when he spots you– always ready for bed, always in the armchair. He stopped trying to come get you at the bookstore at night once you’ve agreed to let the officers walk you home. The spare key he added to your keychain should hold a bigger meaning than it does, though it feels like it does hold a bigger weight. A means to an end, you tell yourself every time you unlock his front door. This is just a means to an end. “Thank you,” he will then say, before he even moves to the kitchen to see whatever it was on the plate you had made and set in the microwave for him. “And good night.” By then, you’re already semi-asleep and you don’t really say anything. 

You never thought you would miss these forbidden exceptions when they’re gone. 

You know that travel is a big part of Spencer’s job, but with all that is going on, you never really considered the fact that he might need to leave for a few days. At least not until he calls you, right before you lock the store. The irregularity of it all has you scrambling to pick it up. “Spencer?” You barely whisper, voice cracking in half as little by little, you freeze up. The sensation is like ice running through your veins, burning it’s way to your heart until it makes it stop. “Spencer? Are you okay?”

“I’m okay,” He quickly answers, voice rushed in a way that makes you relax. He always talks fast and you find it incredibly endearing, even during these times apart. “I’m okay, it’s okay. I’m calling because we got a case.”

“Uh, okay?”

“Y/N, that means they need us in Ohio. Today.” He seems almost hesitant to tell you he needs to leave the state. 

And you are as hesitant to accept it. “Oh,” You mumble, suddenly needing to making sure the officer assigned to you is still outside and ready to go. “Okay. Do… Do you need clothes or something?” 

Spencer’s chuckle almost makes it all okay. Almost. “No, thank you. I just– I want you to be comfortable, okay? Feel free to sleep in my bed and do anything you want to do, I don’t mind! Feel at home! Just… be comfortable.” 

For a second you nod, forgetting he can’t see you right now. “Okay. Thank you.” 

“And Y/N?”

“Yeah?” You started biting your nails when you were twelve and middle school was kicking your ass. To this day, right now, you still bite them when you’re nervous. 

“It’s good hearing your voice.” 

Going home and knowing he won’t be there is not as comforting as you thought it could be. The two of you are not speaking and the constant walking on egg shells does get tiring, so you try to rationalise this as something that is just not that bad. Maybe Spencer going on his mysterious trips is not that bad anymore. Before, your curiosity was your downfall– you worried he had gotten sick or worse. However, you don’t think knowing the truth is much better. The nature of his job is incredibly dangerous, and you don’t even know much about it. Now, you still worry, that much hasn’t changed. What has changed, though, is that getting sick would be considered lucky. Right now, you worried about the ‘or worse’. 

Your mom’s voice fills the empty space for a while. She texted you a couple of days ago and you just now got around to calling. “Sweetheart, how do we switch to video again? I want to see your face.” Alarm bells sound off in your mind and you immediately shut down the idea. “Sorry mom, I can’t right now. I’ll video call you tomorrow, okay? I’m cooking dinner right now.” Her worry is that of a mother, comforting like a blanket and familiar like a home. It is not, though, the worry you want. 

For obvious reasons, you don’t tell her what’s going on, much rather preferring to tell her about the mundane things that keep you going. “And I sold out of the book!” You say, a short-lived excitement running through you. “It’s quite exciting, mom– since I opened the shop I have never sold out of anything! This is a first!”

“That’s amazing, sweetie!” She says, and you can’t help but wonder how Spencer would’ve reacted to the news if he was there. It’s only then that you realise you’re halfway through making him a plate for when he comes home, except he won’t be back until the case is complete and you gulp, too aware of the common noises you hear around you. 

This is when you realise how much you miss you Spencer. And how much, even if unconsciously, he makes you feel comfortable and safe. You thought it was the apartment, but now, by yourself, laying on the armchair yet again, you feel vulnerable and exposed. Footsteps can be heard from time to time, neighbours getting home or leaving for the night, and every time, without a fault, you hold your breath and wait. Maybe the door will open and she will be there, or maybe it will be another delivery. God, it could be anything– a letter, flowers, another box. Knowing that Cat Adams had such easy access to Spencer’s apartment is enough to get you up and running to his room. 

Green. The walls are green, muted and cozy, and you smile even when your eyes sting with tears. There is a hole in your heart right now and it’s Spencer shaped. “God,” You groan, rubbing your tears clean so aggressively that it hurts. “When did things get so fucked up?” 

There’s no real answer to that, and you if you think any longer about this, your brain might just implode. For now, all you need is to sleep, but that won’t happen for a while; not with the way your heart speeds up at every crackle coming from his old, metal heather. Still, the chill air of Autumn seeps in through the walls, and you shiver. I want you to be comfortable, Spencer had said before leaving, and you might be crossing some boundaries right now, but you need him close to feel comfortable. You might not be able to get him, but the next best thing you have right now is one of his sweaters, and you have no qualms about opening his wardrobe and grabbing the first thing you find. Ironically enough, it’s an FBI Academy hoodie, though you can’t really imagine Spencer and all his formal glory in a hoodie. You put it on, nonetheless, shutting the door with your foot and just as you turn around, your eyes catch sight of something. Something big, and beige, and bone chilling. 

The box. 

In the heat of the moment, you simply thought he had throw it away. Hell, it would’ve made sense to throw it away! What the fuck was that box doing there…? With a shaky breath, you open the wardrobe door again, hoping, praying, that you were actually hallucinating and that what you saw was nothing but a shoe box or a bag. “God, please, be a bag, be a bag…” Safe to say, your words are in vain. “Fuck, Spencer, what is wrong with you?”

You’re shaking when you pull the box out of its hiding place, breathing shallow and fast. Reason escapes you as you quickly open it, not worried about how it was or even about putting it back in place; if it was up to you, this box would’ve been gone a long time ago. Clearly, it had not been up to you. “Oh my god, I’m going to be sick.” 

Expectations are a tricky thing to deal with. When it comes to your life, you never expected anything big. You know your limitation better than anyone and the largest you’ve dreamt before was the store. You didn’t expect an FBI agent. You didn’t expect a serial killer. And you certainly didn’t expect a box full of sex toys. “What the…” You don’t want to touch them, not with your bare hands, but it looks like there are tens of toys in there, varying in shapes and sizes and colours. It makes you wonder… last he told you, her games are psychological and manipulative. From what you are seeing, though, this is incredibly physical. This is about touch and intimacy and… fuck. This is about connection. You don’t have to be a profiler to know that, not when you are so secretive about your own toys, hidden in the back of your besides drawer away from unwanted eyes. It’s a private thing, and only people you trusted, people you let into your life, knew about them. 

Before you know what you’re doing, you rush to find your phone. It’s somewhere in the house, and you need to find it, you need to call him. “Pick up,” You whisper when you finally find it in the living room, under your favourite blanket on the chair. Even your fingers are shaking, vision a bit blurred from the adrenaline rushing through you– you feel like you’re in danger, and you don’t know what to do. “Spence, pick up, pick up, please pick up–“

“Hello?” You almost cry when you hear his raspy voice on the other side. It doesn’t make you feel any better to think that you might just have woken him up.

“Spencer,” You whine, embarrass with how needy you sound. The nice officer that brought you home is standing outside the door, and you could’ve gone to him– could’ve opened the door, asked him to stay inside, talk to him a little. Or you could’ve called Penelope. She had given you her number with promises that more often then not, she stayed behind to work from the BAU office. There is no place safer than my office, she had promised you, but how do you tell her that the problem is not your environment, it’s not where you are or what you’re doing… how do you tell her that the problem is you? She might not understand it so you don’t even dare try to explain it. You don’t dare to give her and the team this part of yourself too and you shut your mouth with a firm hand over your lips. 

Memories of a life you left behind flash behind your eyes, and you whimper, hugging your knees to your chest while you hear him desperately calling for you. As far as you can, you kick that godforsaken box away from you. “Y/N?! Y/N, say something, please! Are you okay? Y/N!”

“I’m here,” You whisper, pushing your hair away from your face. “I’m here.’ 

“What’s going on?” 

“Spencer, I–” A moment of regret and hesitation makes you pause. What can he even do all the way from Ohio? “I want to go home.” 

You’re not his priority. 

You’ll never be his priority. 

There is no point to this.

“…did something happen?” This is the Spencer you know– voice soft and guarded– and for a second it feels like you two are getting to know each other all over again. “Did officer Kaper make you uncomfortable? I’ll ask for a change of guard, I’ll–“

“N-No,” You cut him off with a shaky exhale. Your head falls on your free hand, finger tangled with your messy hair, and you tug on it. Sharply, the tingly pain on your scalp grounds you for a second, brings you back to this situation you created. “No, Spence, no no no, I just want to go home, I need to go home, I–“ 

“Y/N, breathe,” He coaches you as gently as he can, voice stable and strong, everything you seem to be lacking. “You’re going to set yourself off in a panic again if you don’t breathe. You’re safe in my apartment, okay? I know it’s not the same as being home, I know, but you’re safe there!”

“You’re not here, Spence!” 

There is a moment of silence for both of you. “You’re not here and you didn’t throw that fucking box away,” You whisper, keeping the moment something in between just the two of you. It’s enough that you are falling apart like this in front of Spencer, you don’t need officer Kaper bursting in the door to witness this too.

“You found the box,” He sighs. This is the first time you notice just how tired he sounds.

“I found the box,” You confirm, sniffling in a stubborn attempt to not start crying all over again. 

“It’s evidence. I can’t throw it away, Y/N.”

“Why is it here?”

“I’ve been working on the case on my free time and it just made sense to keep it at home…” 

“Spence, I want to go home. I don’t feel safe,” You admit, shaking your head. “I don’t feel safe here when you’re not here, Spence, I want to go home.” 

“I thought you hated me.”

“Spencer…” He has a point, though, and you know it. This is the first time you two speak in days, the first time you experience this type of comfort again, but it’s still not enough. He’s still not here, next to you, watching over you. He’s still not with you. “Spencer, I’m sorry.” 

“Silly girl, why are you apologising?” He asks, chuckling on the other side and you can picture him– you can see him shaking his head, hair falling around his pretty face like a perfect picture frame when his eyes, pure honey with specks of green, search for yours. Yeah… you can imagine it to perfection, almost like you are the one with eidetic memory. “This is all my fault. And I’m sorry. I never meant to hurt you, Y/N and I’m trying to protect you, so I need you to stay there, okay? I need you to stay in my apartment, please.” 

You don’t know what to tell him. Your eyes wander around the room, looking at all the details he left behind without even noticing. There is a copy of Dostoevsky on the bed side table. I hate Russian literature, you remember telling him once. He was in the shop, bringing you coffee, when you caught a glimpse of a book you certainly didn’t sell him. And I’m appalled you’ve been buying books somewhere else. The way he laughed then, like his biggest problem in the world was explaining to you that this had been a gift from a friend and that he would never betray your trust like this. What do you hate so much about it?, he had asked, leaning over the counter and into you, eager to debate this topic he loved so much. I hate that it’s all about suffering. Even the moments of realisation and self-improvement, they are all through suffering and misery. And of course he had a retort to that, fingers twitching with his enthusiasm. But it’s contextual, you see! Those were written in time of civil unrest and political chaos, and it makes sense to have characters and plot lines that revolve around suffering when that is all you know from the world around you. To this day, your answer paralyses you. I’m a believer in silver linings and happy endings. And not because I’m naive or ignorant, but because the world around me has made me believe that there must be something better out there. Isn’t that nicer?

“Y/N, please tell me you’ll stay there, I need you to stay there.” 

His words almost escape you, but you catch them in the very last minute. It gives you a glimpse into a side of him he has yet to show you, and it absolutely shatters your heart in bits. I need you to stay there, he had said. Not you need to stay there, but I need you to stay there. Suddenly, you realise that this– all of this, the relocation, the involvement of the FBI, the dropping off and picking up– is not just for you. 

“I’ll stay here,” Whispering with him like this helps. “I’ll stay. I’m sorry I woke you up.” 

“Don’t be. I’m happy you called.” 

“I’ll let you go back to sleep, but Spence?” 

“Yeah?”

“Be safe. I need you back here.”

“I’ll be home in no time.” 

For a second, you trust him. You trust everything will be okay, that you can make everything okay until he gets back, and then you’ll pass the responsibility onto him. For a second, you trust him, but you also trust yourself. 

Everything will be okay. 

Everything will be okay. 

Everything will be okay. 

You fall asleep like this; wearing his hoodie and hugging your phone, nose buried on his pillow in hopes to dream of him. The sun wakes you up, and there are birds chirping at your window. Despite the heaviness you feel in you and dooming headache you know will settle soon, the romantic in you believes that today will be a good day. That today will be an okay day.

“Miss Y/L/N? It’s officer Kaper.” 

The knock doesn’t scare you anymore. On days one through three it had you jumping on air, heart about to stop from how fast it was beating. Days four and five were easier, less scary and more anxious, waiting for the punctual 9AM knock. From day six onwards, it was a welcome start to your day, knowing that someone is looking after you. 

You check the fisheye like Spencer told you to, and then you open the door only when you recognise the face on the other side. “Good morning, Officer,” You smile, nodding at him a bit stiffly. The two of you had been formally introduced by JJ, but it didn’t make this any less awkward for you. “Would you like some coffee?” 

“Sure,” He nods, smiling as he comes inside with his usual stack of mail. Everyday, without fail, someone picks up your mail and brings it to Officer Kaper. “Here’s your mail for the day, ma’am.” 

“How was the night shift?” It’s almost like a scripted conversation, these back and forth questions you throw at each other, and you’re finding that you hate this. You hate the stiff conversations and the self-imposed bans. But this is day two, and in just more two days, Spencer would be home. And you would talk to him, just like you used to before, just like you did over the phone. Nothing will change; you’re not going home any time soon and Cat Adams isn’t going to just magically disappear. It’s time to accept it and learn how to live with it, as hard as that sounds. 

Sifting through your mail has to be your favourite part of the day. It’s normal, slightly boring, and a peek into the routine you used to have and love. No one ever sends you letters, so it’s just bills. “Water, electricity, marketing, marketing,” The coffee is brewing in the background and Officer Kaper is telling you about his daughter. She’s a tiny girl, just two and very, very shy, but apparently, she loves stories. “I might have a book for her,” You get distracted from the letters for a second, smiling at the kind officer. “I’ll bring it to you later tonight!” 

When you look back again, it’s the one on top. 

The envelope is white, like any other letter, and it has no thing in the back but your name and address scribbled in red, a big heart right next to it. “Uh, Officer, this is… this is weird.” You’ve been instructed to let someone know if you received anything unlabelled or unexpected. This letter is certainly unexpected. “It has no return address.” 

“May I open it?” He asks and you nod. He opens it with a knife, pulling a small piece of paper inside. “Okay, it seems like a normal letter. There is no signature of any kind.”

“What does it say?” You’re nervous now, walking around Officer Kaper to read over his shoulder. “Oh my god.” 

“Does this mean anything to you?” 

Nodding, you’re dialling Spencer’s number already. “It means I’m fucked.” 

On the table, laid a message you’d never forget.

He’s not yours to keep. 

---------------------------------------

Taglist:

@fanfic-viewer

@mysticpeachobject

@donttrustlove  

@r-3dlips 

@lolitsbuckybarnes 

@lilrios-world 

@iniyalovesall 

@beabfleab

@dojacatismywife 

@queenofshinigamis

@beersangel

@catchthewindd

@charismatic-writer

@freaky-dcaky

@scarlettoh

@drreidslove

@spicyytomatoyay

@kitty-kei

@sapphirecobalt-1

@jebesovovise

@cultish-corner

@areiofhope

@candid-confetti

@godilovetoomuch

@redros3y

@gibson-g1rl

@bunnylov-3-r

[whimsi-clown]

A New Form of Psychological Torture Discovered.

Part 2 of the Reverse Isekai Disney Villains x Modern Reader AU

(Or RIDV AU for short)

Warning: Still a whole lot of swearing and OOC

"So... What would you like to know first?"

You asked with your hands clamped together, gathering the energy of minimum wage customer service workers just for this moment.

Those people have the highest patience, and you so badly need that right now.

The rest of the villains remained silent, glancing at one another until Dr. Facilier spoke up.

"How about you start by telling us how we got here... Wherever here is..."

He spoke, leaning forward against the back of the couch, the rest of the villains nodding and muttering in agreement.

"Well, to borrow your words, Dr. Facilier... You're in my world now, not your world... And you guys are the friends on the other side that I seem to have... Accidentally summoned??"

Dr. Facilier raised a brow at that, wondering how you knew that phrase. The rest of the villains, however, either rolled their eyes or groaned in irritation.

"Yea, we know that, babes. Doesn't take a genius to figure that out. What we wanna know is how we got here."

You turned to Hades, whose flaming hair was now turning light orange at the tip, showing how quickly he was losing patience with you,

You nervously gulped at that. You're gonna have to speed this up if you want your mansion to remain intact, hoping that reason will save you from 3rd degree burns.

"Alright, alright. Look, I really don't know how you guys got here, but I can tell you what I've been doing before, and you can take away whatever from there. Is that fine with you all?"

Thankfully, most of the villains agreed with reason, turning to Maleficent, who had been silent for most of this entire exchange, for the final say.

"Very well, speak."

With the mistress of all evil's confirmation, you began summarizing the events before their unexpected arrival, from your employer's death, you moving into their mansion, the mysterious door you found, the random junk on pedestals, how you cleaned them, and then the wierd lightshow that happened after that which resulted in their arrival.

By the time you were done enumerating, you were already out of breath, panting as your mouth felt like it had just gone through a marathon.

Was this karma for all those times you didn't speak up during those group presentations?

The villains contemplated your words, processing every detail (including the ones they deemed useless and unnecessary) before Jafar finally decided to speak up.

"You mentioned having cleaned some... Random junk before our arrival, correct?"

He asked with a raised brow, the other villains turning to face you for confirmation and a silent order for you to fetch those items for them.

You nodded at that, wordlessly running back to the mysterious room to gather every item in your arms and rushing back to the living room, laying them on the coffee table.

Most of the villain's eyes lit up in recognition of some of the items, snatching them off the table and inspecting them closely.

Maleficent held onto her staff, watching as the crystal orb at the top glowed a soft green. (1st mistake, letting the tall dark fae hold onto what is the equivalent of a lethal magical weapon)

Grimhilde didn't seem too fond or attached to the mirror in her hand, but she appreciated still being able to admire herself in its fractured surface.

Hades didn't seem too attached to the item he held too, inspecting the lit torch with a raised brow.

Jafar on the other hand was all too eager with the lamp in his hold, aggressively rubbing its surface with the cloth of his wrist, only to let out an irritated huff when it did not yield the results he desired.

Captain Hook was carefully inspecting the silver hook and the iron hook he had on him with a critical eye, and after careful contemplation, he decided to trade his rusty iron hook for a clean silver one, disregarding it over his shoulder as he gleefully applied the new hook onto his arm. (2nd mistake, letting the fancy ass pirate attach a deadly weapon onto their person. At least you won't get infected with tetanus when he makes good on his promise to slice your throat)

Gaston was checking his hunting rifle for any marks or scratches on the surface, doing mock firing poses before letting out a hum of approval. (3rd mistake, does not need an explanation whatsoever. He is a big dumb man with a big gun) As he was about to set the hunting rifle down, he accidentally pulled on the trigger, causing everyone within the vicinity to flinch in surprise at the loud bang, looking up to see the large bullet hole that was made on the ceiling of your home, some debris falling off. (Case and point)

Shaking his head at Gaston's mishap, Dr. Facilier continued to shuffle the deck of tarot cards in his hands, effortlessly doing card tricks like it was second nature. (You may or may not have been momentarily entraced by the smooth and eye-catching movement)

Shan Yu, who had not said a word since the "summoning incident" stood at the far side of the room, leaning against a wall as he simply watched the scene before him, the sword now kept on a sheath that was strapped around him. (4th mistake, again, very self-explanatory. Big man who's literally and probably the only person in this room with the largest body count) Shan Yu's head turned to your direction when he felt your gaze on him, his gold eyes seeming to pierce through you, causing another unsettling chill to crawl down your spine.

You decided to quickly turn your gaze away from the ruthless hun leader and focus your sights back on the rest of the group.

Watching Scar boredly play with the lion skull like it was a sock puppet of some sorts, Ursula and Cruela already wearing the nautilus shell necklace and the exotic fur coat respectively, and finally Oogie Boogie rolling the pair of die around his pointy stub of sack he called a hand. (How the dices remained on his hand despite his lack of fingers is a mystery you will never learn the truth to)

"Great. Now that I've satiated your curiosity. I'm gonna go..."

You mumble aloud, not really caring if they heard you or not. You just wanted to escape to the kitchen right now. You were starving.

Before you could make your great escape, however, a gloved hand grabbed a hold of your shoulders.

"Now hold on just a moment darling, you haven't completely satiated our curiosities just yet..."

Cruela stated, her grip surprisingly strong for someone of her age and stature.

"She's right. We've still got one thing left to ask."

Says Ursula as she comes closer to you, a tentacle wrapping itself tightly around your leg, preventing you any chances to bail.

You begin to grow nervous as they all begin to crowd you once more.

"Uhm... And... What exactly... would that be?"

You hesitantly ask.

"You referred to us as... Disney Villains... Why?"

Grimhilde commanded, glaring down at you.

"And you best not deceive us, little one, because I'm starting to get quite... Hungry..."

Threatened Scar as he licked his tongue over his canines, eyeing you like you were gonna be his next meal.

...

Oh

...

O H

...

Oh shit.

Gods you and your big mouth, why did you have to say that before them? They obviously don't have any idea that they're works of fiction and entertainment like in Mickey's House of Mouse or Once upon a Studio.

Actually, how would they react to that?

It was never really shown how the characters coped with the idea of being created for the purpose of entertaining children.

So how would they respond to the realization that their lives had been depicted for them from the very start and that they had no actual say in the course of their stories?

...

A morbid curiosity begins to settle in your mind as a smile spreads across your cheeks, making the villains unconsciously flinch at the uneasy feeling that came with your wide and ecstatic grin as you look up at them.

"How likely are you all to suffer from an existential crisis?"

End of part 2

Previous Part, Next Part

[forjongseong]

pine-fresh // jay (ENHYPEN)

pairing: slytherin!jay x gryffindor!fem!reader

genre: hogwarts!au, somewhat rivals to lovers, smut (minors dni)

warning: profanity, a lot of making out, fingering // word count: ~4k

summary: a dash of bickering and a whole lot of miscommunication in Potions class landed you and Slytherin's Park Jongseong in detention. did you ask for it? no. did you regret it? also, no.

author's note: at last, the Slytherin!Jay of my imagination has now, sort of, come to life...

ever since I came across that edit you see on the header, I've thought about him A LOT. now that his hair is actually silver, I have thought about him MORE. especially when @jaylaxies made this, which I thought about ALSO a lot... let's just say that Slytherin!Jay has been occupying my mind a lot more than I expected.

my knowledge on the HP universe is quite limited, so please excuse if some scenes don't seem too believable (like Snape somewhat being less strict here, or detention being scrubbing the bathroom). the title of this fic refers to the password that is needed to enter the Prefects' bathroom.

now, I know I say when I post oneshots I intend for them to be standalone fics, meaning that I most likely won't write a part two. but for this one??? if a lot of you like it, and a lot of you ask for it, I might be open to writing a sequel (once I conduct a lengthy research on Hogwarts grounds)

anyway, I hope you enjoy this little treat! I'm trying to shake off my writer's block, so please expect secretary!Jay to return soon.

taglist: @jaylaxies @excusememissiloveyou @thots4hee @end-hyphen @nyanggk @maggstar @bucketofhiros @shinkenprincess-oh @mydarlingjay @mochimchimo @jongseonglogy @strawberrification12 @xiaoderrrr

permanent taglist is open! send an ask or DM if you want to be tagged.

As your House’s Prefect and one of the smartest students at school, you thought it would be impossible to dislike a class. Getting good grades in almost every subject seemed to prove that you liked learning everything, but by God, you hated Potions. Other than the fact that the lessons took place in a literal dungeon, which made it colder than any of the classrooms above, you always had to deal with the unpleasant smell of whatever was brewing in the room. Add the inconvenient detail that half of the class consisted of Slytherin students, which was more than you could tolerate.

You did not know when it started, maybe since the Sorting Hat placed you in Gryffindor or when you witnessed one of your classmates getting teased by a Slytherin, but you had a strong aversion to anything related to that house. It became so bad to the point that whenever you got paired with a Slytherin for an assignment, all you wanted to do was to get the job done quickly for the both of you so you could leave the class as soon as possible.

“Miss L/N,” called Professor Snape. Your head snapped up and you locked eyes with him, somehow convincing him that you had been listening to all his instructions despite staring into the empty vials on your table. “Today you’ll be working with Park Jongseong.”

You nodded softly and once Snape turned his head towards another student, you made an audible groan and leaned back on your chair.

“You don’t sound so happy to be paired with me.”

Jay took the now unoccupied seat beside you and sat with a force that made his robe flutter. The flash of green caught your eye, and you hesitantly pulled your books to your side, making room for his on the table.

“I’ll handle the mixing,” you replied, completely unrelated to his remark.

Jay frowned before letting out a soft chuckle. “Wow, I guess you really aren’t in the mood today.”

You turned your head only slightly enough to shoot daggers at him with your eyes, and his response was just a huff to his face, messing up the silver bangs on his forehead. The sound of Professor Snape’s voice caught your attention, so you straightened up and listened intently, but also noticed how Jay was mimicking you. Once you were all instructed to begin, Jay grabbed his quill and started making notes for the recipe.

For the first couple of minutes, the process went well. You were mixing and adding stuff according to Jay’s dictation. However, after he misread the measurements for a certain ingredient, causing your brew to bubble uncontrollably, you began scolding him and blaming him for everything.

“What’s distracting you? How could you have misread that?” You half-shouted, a handkerchief in your hand as you attempted to clean up your surroundings.

“Maybe if you weren’t shaking so much when you’re holding the vials then I could have paid more attention,” Jay retorted, snatching a vial from your other hand to prevent more spills. “We should switch. You tell me what to do and I’ll redo everything.”

“That will take us even longer, and everyone else is already halfway done,” you complained as you looked around the class. You saw Professor Snape eyeing your table.

“Do you have another solution?” Jay asked, staring back at you.

You reluctantly agreed to switch tasks, but it turned out that Jay was worse than you. He kept spilling liquid, pouring more than needed, and overall causing more chaos than when he was just giving you instructions. Your grunts and groans were starting to gain the attention of the whole classroom, and by the time you were almost done, the bell rang.

The sound of your quill hitting your book was silenced by the footsteps of the other students exiting the classroom. They had finished their potions, and your table was literally the only one in the room that was still messy, with a mixture that looked too suspicious to be called a potion.

“I have been patient enough to let you two bicker the whole time, but for you to not finish making your potions,” Professor Snape said as he walked back to his desk, his cape almost floating behind him.

“Great, he’s gonna put us in detention,” you muttered to yourself.

“That is correct, Miss L/N,” Professor Snape continued. “Once you’re both done cleaning up your table, meet me in my office.”

The frown you wore on your face was so bad that anybody who saw you could easily tell that you were pissed, but between gathering the books and papers and wiping off spills with a cloth, you could have sworn you saw Jay smirking to himself.

---

As you placed a bucket of water in the middle of the Prefects’ bathroom, you sighed at the exhaustion that you felt despite not having even started your detention. You and Jay were both assigned to clean up the bathroom, which, despite only being restricted to use by the school Prefects, Head Boys, Head Girls, and Quidditch captains, was in an alarmingly grimy state.

You purposefully steered away from the side of the room with the toilet stalls and stood by the large, swimming pool-like tub sunken into the ground with bath taps surrounding it. The tub was drained, and you much preferred scrubbing it to cleaning all the toilets.

Jay was standing by the bath supplies on one side of the pool, staring at the different kinds of soap, bath oils, bath salts, shampoo, and conditioner. It took a while for him to realize you were glaring at him, basically waiting for him to start working already.

“Damn, it would be worth becoming a Prefect just to be able to use this bathroom,” Jay muttered, placing a small bottle of bath oil back in its place. “You must take baths all the time.”

You snorted, audible enough to make it echo throughout the whole room. “I don’t have time for baths.”

“Really? What a shame,” Jay sighed, rolling up his sleeves. “How long do you think it would take for us to finish?”

“If you keep using your mouth instead of your hands, probably a lot longer than I expect,” you replied without a pause, sounding annoyed.

Your snarky remarks did not bother Jay at all. In fact, it amused him, and the way he was laughing softly was not helping at all. He walked over to the stalls and finally began to work only minutes after you started.

“Today is really not your day, huh?” Jay’s voice echoed behind the stalls.

“Thanks to you, it’s not,” you answered, polishing one of the hundred golden bath taps that surrounded the tub.

“You know,” Jay started, only to pause to flush the toilet so he wouldn’t have to compete with the sound. “I have a feeling that you don’t like me.”

You rolled your eyes and moved your bucket to polish the other bath taps. Jay cleared his throat as he waited for your reply.

“Is it because I’m a Slytherin?” He asked. “I mean, it’s kinda unfair that just because I’m in this House, you automatically hate me—”

“I don’t hate you,” you finally responded. “Hate is a strong word.”

“Alright then,” Jay walked out of one stall and looked in your direction before entering the next stall. “So, what’s the story?”

You let out a heavy sigh and wrung out the cloth you were holding. It was a long story, you thought to yourself. You came from a family of Slytherins—both your parents and your older brother were—but since you were old enough to understand and remember things, you had always been the odd one out in your family. They would excel academically and go on to achieve things you never even dreamed of. Your interests were always different, and what got you far at school was thanks to your personality and smart work.

It was still a vivid memory to you, the moment you sat down and let the Sorting Hat analyze you. You thought you would hear a confident ‘Slytherin!’ from the Hat, but after a couple of seconds of deciding, it placed you in Gryffindor. Switching houses was never a thing, so you did what you could and made good friends, studied hard enough to make the professors notice you, and eventually, you earned the title of Prefect as you entered the fifth year.

Despite that, throughout the years in Hogwarts, you kept hearing and witnessing stories about Slytherins, how they always happen to achieve so much but at the same time are notoriously problematic. The house you once dreamed of being a part of quickly became one that you were relieved to be excluded from, but somehow, the longing remains.

Around your third year in Hogwarts, you began hearing chatter about Park Jongseong. He became popular, it seemed, after he was assigned to be the Keeper of Slytherin’s Quidditch team, and also after he had an insane glow-up. You then noticed that he was the quiet nerd who used to bury his nose in whatever book he was reading in a dark corner in the library, but since then, he had ditched his glasses and styled his luscious silver locks in a way that—

“Y/N, are you okay?”

Jay’s voice woke you up from your extensive daydreaming, and it made you realize you were polishing one bath tap for way too long.

“How long were you polishing that tap?” Jay asked, tilting his chin towards your hand.

His question spooked you, and you were beginning to think he might have heard your thoughts. You cleared your throat before moving to the next tap. “Not long, why?”

“Because I’m done with all the toilet stalls, and I noticed you haven’t moved an inch.”

Well, that’s embarrassing, you thought. How long exactly did you zone out for?

“Should I start cleaning the pool’s floor then?” He asked, fixing his folded sleeves before squatting down and then jumping into the empty pool.

“Sure,” you said, immediately picking up your pace and trying your best not to steal any more glances in his direction.

“Listen,” Jay began, both his hands firmly holding a mop. “You got really silent after I asked a question, so I’m sorry that I made you uncomfortable. We can continue to work in silence if that’s what you prefer.”

You smiled as you moved on to the next tap. “It’s fine. I was just tired.”

You refocused on your own task, determined to leave the bathroom spotless, but after a moment, you noticed Jay moving oddly around the pool floor, dragging his mop in a way that was not normal. When you lifted your head to look at him, you saw that he was singing, no, lip-syncing a song and using the mop as a mic stand, completely immersed in his imagination but being considerate not to bother you with noise.

At this sight, you burst out laughing. Jay stood up straight and turned his heel to face you, looking surprised.

“Please,” you said after you contained yourself, “do continue.”

“Miss Prefect,” Jay sighed, “this bathroom is way too huge for only two of us to clean. Do you think we can sneak out and get our wands from Snape’s office?”

You shook your head. “The door is locked with a password.”

“But you’re Miss Prefect,” Jay said, matter-of-factly. “Don’t you know the password?”

“He literally changed it after leaving us here with these cleaning supplies, Jay. I don’t know the new password.”

Jay paused and for a moment you thought he was figuring out a way to escape, when in reality, his stomach just did a backflip from the way his name rolled off your tongue.

“So, what you’re saying is there is literally no way to get out of this bathroom unless we finish cleaning it?” Jay asked.

“That is the point of detention, yes,” you replied, shrugging.

Jay groaned and turned around, pushing his mop and reluctantly continuing to clean the pool floor. You were almost halfway done with polishing all the bath taps, and you sighed as you looked at all the mirrors waiting to be scrubbed clean too.

After a while, Jay finished scrubbing the floors, and you began to wonder if you should have taken his work instead since the bath taps seemed like a never-ending task to complete. He loosened the tie around his neck and undid the first few buttons on his shirt, making you quickly look away.

“Should I help you with the bath taps or start doing the mirrors?” Jay walked over to your side before pushing himself up the edge and then standing up, towering over you.

“Mirrors, please,” you answered, this time tilting your chin to point at the direction of the sinks.

“Really? Because you seem like you’re taking your sweet time polishing all those taps,” Jay said, tilting his head to one side.

You looked up at him and he had this teasing, lop-sided smirk. Meanwhile, the unintentional doe eyes you were giving him made him almost choke on his own saliva.

“Just do the mirrors, Jay.”

You saw him smile the second you finished your sentence, and when he turned his back to you, it somehow looked like his shoulders were happy. He stood in front of the sink and did a quick count on the number of mirrors he had to clean. You saw him start from the far left, where one of the mirrors was cracked on the edge.

“Be careful with that one. Ravenclaw’s Head Girl almost—”

“Fuck!”

You heard Jay groan as he stumbled a few steps back, wincing in pain and shaking his left hand.

“Jay,” you sighed, standing up and throwing the cloth you were holding to the floor. “I didn’t even finish my sentence.”

You walked up to him and stood before him with your hand out. He looked at you questionably before lifting his left hand for you to take a look.

“Is it bad?” He asked, slightly looking away. “I don’t like the sight of blood.”

“That explains a lot,” you muttered, placing your hand carefully over his. “Oh, my God.”

“What? What is it?” Jay asked, his right hand shaking in panic.

“Your fingers are so thick and stubby, like cocktail sausages.”

Jay snorted before pulling his hand away and you giggled.

“It’s just a scratch,” you said in an attempt to calm him down. “You can carry on.”

“Well, do you have something I can use to treat it?” Jay asked.

You were already sitting by the edge of the pool to continue with your polishing. “Do I look like a walking first aid kit to you? Just spit on it and move on.”

Jay looked at you, unsure of your advice. He then turned around and decided to wash his hands with soap. The suds obviously stung, so he was flinching and wincing quietly, but he could see you giggling silently from your reflection in the mirror in front of him.

“Do you really mean it?” Jay spoke, looking at you through the mirror.

“Mean what?”

“That I have stubby fingers,” Jay clarified.

You were unsure what to make of his tone. He sounded curious but also hurt, or maybe…

“So what if you do?” You asked back, not paying attention to him.

The strands of your hair were becoming loose and covering your eyes, and you were dying to fix the scrunchie on your ponytail, but both your hands were wet and occupied with polishing. You kept huffing and puffing and even attempting to move your hair using the movements of your shoulders until Jay sneaked up behind you and tapped you on your arm.

“Here, allow me,” Jay said calmly, tugging on your scrunchie.

You sat up straight and let him pull your scrunchie off, letting your hair cascade to your back. He began brushing your hair with his fingers before gently bunching it into a ponytail. He skillfully tied your hair up into a bun that was less messy than before. You were about to thank him, but he moved from behind you and jumped back into the empty pool, standing in front of you and tucking the loose strands of hair behind both your ears.

His fingers brushed against your ear, and for a moment, you were lost in his eyes. The next thing you felt was his hand behind your neck, pulling you closer as he stood in between your legs, his lips crashing against yours. You sighed as you let yourself be enveloped in his warmth—his tongue tugging yours, his lips devouring yours, his palms pushing against your back, and his breath mixing up with yours.

You felt his hand travel lower down your back, settling on your ass before he pushed you closer to him, earning a soft yelp from between your lips. His mouth detached from yours only to give you a sly smirk before he dove back into you. Your hands rested comfortably on his shoulders as you gave into his every move, and when you felt one of his hands grazing the exposed skin of your thigh from the gap between your skirt and your knee-high socks, you gasped.

“Wanna see what these fingers can do?” Jay asked, speaking right against your lips.

Your eyes searched for his before you nodded a little too eagerly. He chuckled before sliding his hand between your legs and under your skirt. His fingers easily found their place on your clothed cunt, and despite his gentle moves, you could not hold in your moans.

“Jay,” you whimpered, hands bunching up his shirt.

“Oh, I like it when you say my name like that,” he teased, leaving a wet peck on your chin. “Can you say it again?”

He pressed his thumb on your clit before sliding it down your folds, and he could already tell that you were soaked. You were biting your lip, and he chuckled, bringing the same hand that was caressing you up and towards your chin.

“Come on, now,” Jay cooed. “Prefects are usually good students. You’re a good girl, aren’t you?”

His thumb slid upon your bottom lip, and you could almost sniff the scent of your own arousal. You were trembling at this point, desperate to feel more of him, so all you could give as a response was a nod.

“Say my name.”

“Jay—”

Your voice was muffled as he slid in a finger when you opened your mouth. You instinctively sucked on it before he entered another one, and then he hurriedly placed his hand back between your legs, pushing your panties to the side before easily sliding those two fingers inside of you.

“Jay!” You moaned loudly, spreading your legs wider so he could do whatever he wanted to do to you comfortably. Your fingers reached for the back of his head, pulling on his silver locks before you pushed his head to your neck. He began licking the soft skin under your chin before placing wet kisses down your neck. With one hand, you unbuttoned your top and pulled your collar open, giving him more access to your skin. He sucked on your collarbone softly and, at the same time, curled his fingers inside of you.

You repeatedly moaned into his ear, and at some point, you thought you sounded way too pathetic, but the way Jay was thrusting his fingers in and out of you and the way the squelching sound was echoing throughout the whole bathroom made you believe that the sounds you were making were actually quite tame.

“Jay,” you sighed. “Oh, my God.”

Jay lifted his head from your neck and flashed you a proud smirk before leaning in to kiss you again. You whined at the contact, and as your hands found his face, you began to caress him, pull him, and do whatever was necessary to send the message that you wanted him bad.

You felt the increasing pace of his fingers between your legs, and you began to feel the ache in your ass for sitting on the edge of the pool for too long. Jay pressed his thumb on your clit, and you threw your head back in pleasure, grabbing onto his biceps for support. When your moans started to sound higher and more in sync with the movements of his fingers, Jay leaned in and pressed his cheek onto yours before speaking right into your ear.

“Cum for me, will you?”

The deep tone and gentle vibration of his voice sent shivers down your spine, and with that, you finally reached your high. Your legs were shaking, and to soothe you, Jay began kissing your cheek softly. He kept kissing you and moving towards your lips, giving you a long peck before moving down to your chin and neck. He kissed the parts of your skin that were beginning to turn purple, and once he heard your leveled breathing, he pulled away to take a good look at you.

“Good girl,” he said right to your face.

You playfully, and very gently, slapped his face. He let out a wholehearted chuckle before pulling his hand from between your legs. Just seconds later, you heard the sound of footsteps approaching the bathroom door. Your eyes widened, and Jay quickly registered the situation. He fixed your collar for you to button up before he sprinted back to the mirror he was supposed to be polishing while you frantically searched for the abandoned cloth that you had been using the whole time.

“Why am I not surprised that you haven’t finished cleaning the bathroom?” Professor Snape stated after scanning the area. “It’s almost curfew, so wrap up and continue cleaning tomorrow. I’ll consider your detention done once this place is spotless.”

You stood up and observed as Professor Snape reached into the pocket in his robe and took out your wands. After he handed them over to you and Jay, he turned around without further question and left the bathroom. Jay looked at you, and you sighed in relief, almost collapsing to the floor because of your weak knees, if not for Jay holding you up by your elbows.

“That was too damn close,” you commented, standing uncomfortably since your panties were not fixed the right way.

“I’d say it was exciting,” Jay said, leaning into you and sniffing your neck.

“Jay, stop it,” you said, placing your palm firmly on his chest.

“That’s not what you wanted me to do when I had these stubby fingers inside you,” he teased, raising his hand and wriggling his fingers in front of your face.

You smacked his hand away, and he cackled, almost making the room shake from the echo.

“We still need to come back tomorrow and whose fault is that?” You asked, your back turned to him as you were tidying up the supplies.

“Fault?” Jay tilted his head. “No, favor. You’re missing the point. We get to come back here tomorrow.”

You stood up straight before turning to face Jay. He boldly took a couple of steps towards you, closing the distance and pulling you by your waist to press your body against his.

“Are you honestly telling me you’re not looking forward to it?”

With Jay’s arm firmly around your waist, the heat of his body against yours, his eyes boring into yours, and his silver hair messy from the way you were pulling on it earlier, there was no way you could lie to his face.

“Okay, I am looking forward to it,” you said after gaining enough courage. “Maybe instead of your stubby fingers, you can show me something else.”

Jay’s eyes twinkled at your daring tone, and you both chuckled before letting each other go, nagging at him as he collected your supplies while shamelessly ogling your body.

-END-

© forjongseong 2023, all rights reserved dividers by @cafekitsune

back to masterlist // back to navigation

!!! do NOT copy, translate, or repost any of my work to your blog or ANY other platform.

[ja3hwa]

♡ 𝐇𝐮𝐫𝐭𝐬 𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐇𝐞𝐥𝐥 | 𝐀𝐥𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐄𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 ♡

【Synopsis】 : It's been so long since you've seen your boys. And when the youngest comes knocking on your door, the new life you had only just managed to build comes crashing down.

『Word count』 :  4.8k

-> Genre: Mafia au. Angst. Fluff.

Pairing: Mob Boss!Ot8 Ateez x Reader

[Warnings] : lots of heart ache. The reader is beside herself a lot. Blood. Gore. Death. Torture. Reader gets kidnapped. Tears. Hugging. Lots of cry. Grovelling (we stan a good grovel). And yeah, lots of angst but fluffy at the end. Kissing. Mingi got a dirty mind. Whoops.

Note: uh, so hi. Ahha It's been a while... I finally decided to actually finish the alt ending of this fic. I've had people ask for more, and I honestly forgot about it. But then i saw someone send in THIS request, and it made me want to finish this. So this can be read as a stand-alone. But if you want to read part 1 and the other ending. Go ahead, otherwise enjoyyyyy ♡

Part one | Other Ending

Masterlist | Navigation

You were alone. Wandering through life with nothing to hold onto. You were going underwater, and no one was around to help you above the heavy waves. You were numb. Heartbreak ridding you of happiness… Or so you thought.

Through a bottle or two... Maybe three or four. You found at the end of it. You were just as unhappy as you were before you took the first sip. You needed a change. A change of scenery. A change of personality. A completely new life. So there you were two towns over. Maybe not a whole country away from the old you, but this was just as good. A new apartment. New job. Architectural design. You enjoyed it, so dearly. It became something that kept you going. That kept you waking up. You were fighting for a glimpse of happiness in mornings that were still hard, and nights were just as restless as ever.

You were alone. Yes. But you tried.

It's been two whole years. You think you’d forgotten everything by now. But the biggest, deepest pain didn’t seem to heal as quickly as everyone says it does. Fucking Liars…

You were having a break from your long hours of sketching a new mansion floor plan, a private owner wanted it done within the week and for a heavy price and as much as it was a distraction you couldn't help but think how the design the private buyer seemed to want a floor plan that resembled something that one of your old lovers would have loved. The vintage vibe with a green and gold theme matched Mingi and Yunho perfectly. Your brain almost thought maybe they were the private buyer. But why would they go to you after what you had ‘apparently done’ to them? Before you could dwell on the idea anymore, the sound of your doorbell broke your gaze from the large sketch in front of you.

You question why someone would be visiting you at this hour, given that most of your clients would email you beforehand and your ‘friends’ would text. So, who could possibly be at your door? Your heart thumped strangely as if your body knew who was beyond the large oak before you. A ball started to form at the base of your throat. Was this anxiousness you were feeling? Gripping the silver handle, you creek the door open slowly, and when your gaze met the other person you feel your heart stop. 

“Hi…”

You looked at the man with a dumbfounded expression, tilting your head in confusion. Hi? After all these years, hi is what he starts with. What does he take you for? A hopeless woman needing a man to catch her when she falls?

You go to shut the door without a second thought, but he catches it in his strong arms. The same arms that used to hold you. Shield you from all the danger―no stop you didn’t need them when you were completely broken and you most certainly don’t need them now.

“Please let me explain. Honey, I just…” He was scrambling to find his words, his breath catching his throat like he was running a marathon prior to this interaction. “I wanted to see you…tell you.”

“I don’t want to hear it, Jongho.” You finally spoke, silently yelling at yourself for sounding so shaky in your voice when you wanted to be mad, tone-deaf, blunt. But here you are, wanting to cry cause of the anger surging through you. Why must you always cry when you get mad. “You don’t get to come here after almost two fucking years, call me honey and tell me how much you miss me and think I’ll just fall back into your arms as if nothing happened.”

“T-that’s not what I want nor expect from you. I just want―I don’t care what you want. Now get off my porch.” You cut him off, slamming the door in his face before breaking down the minute you heard the latch click. Your legs buckle, sliding down the door before your knees hit the ground, sobbing into your hands. Your heart was breaking all over again, just like the night you left. You wanted nothing more than to run after him, beg him to hold you. But you couldn’t. They hurt you so much. How do you even begin to forgive them for what happened all those years ago?

-

Through the next months, you kept receiving letters, flowers, and gift boxes. Even teddy bears. Why would they give you teddy bears? You think they would have known you from being with them for so long. Throwing yet another soft plush toy on the ever-growing pile that sat in your office. You were beginning to become sick of it. You thought after you yelled at Jongho, he and the others would have gotten the hint, but you guess being dumped by eight mob bosses wasn’t as easy as you thought.

Sighing, you click your tongue, looking at the stack of letters you have yet to burn. You can’t even be bothered to open them, not wanting to even listen to anything they might have to say. But another part of you was curious. Maybe one letter couldn’t hurt, right? Reaching for the one on the top, your fingers grasp the small paper. It’s rough against your skin. Like the paper was made from a poor-quality tree. Odd? Why would your ex-lovers gift you such cheap gifts? Not that you were expecting high-priced gifts, but they had enough money to buy half the world, so you think them getting something with a heavier price tag wouldn’t matter. Something wasn’t right. Something wasn’t adding up. 

But before you could think of anything else, a loud, almost anger-filled knock comes from the front door. Your body was suddenly on high alert. Goosebumps erode all over your skin as a sickening feeling clouds your head. Grabbing your letter opener―just in case―you walk slowly towards the noise. Thoughts ran through your head in time with the beats of your racing heart. You knew walking towards the suspicious noise was a bad idea, but what else could you do? Whoever was there would know you were home by the lights being on or how your car is parked in the driveway. You couldn’t just pretend you weren’t home, no matter how hard you wanted to try. 

Your fingers graze the door handle, feeling your breath hitch. You twist it slowly until you hear the creek of the door hinges swing inwards. You brace yourself for whoever it was, but what you are met with confused you. The porch was empty?

No one in sight…

But you certainly heard a loud knock. You were going crazy… were you? You huff, straightening up, feeling relief wash over you. Maybe it was some kids pranking the neighbours again, and you were their target for the day. Who knows. You click the door closed, but you lock it this time because even though you see no threat, you wanted to be sure. Entering your office again you walk over to the letters in order to continue what you were doing but when your eyes gaze over the pieces of paper you notice the one you were going to open wasn’t on the table. Where did you go? You thought, placing the letter opener on the table so you could place your hand on the edge of the oak desk so you could look under it. You looked everywhere and couldn’t seem to find it. It was like it had vanished. But…was that a flash? Something caught your eye.

Looking at the teddy bears, you see the letter sitting in the lap of one of the plushies. Tilting your head you notice a little red flash like as if there was a recor―Your eyes snap open stumbling back slightly before turning to run but your body is met with a very broad object and then before you can get any baring on what or who was in behind of you, everything went black.

-

It was like the world was spinning, your head pinging with an aching pain from the left side of your skull. You tried to open your eyes and look around, but you quickly figured out you were blindfolded and bound to what seemed to be a chair. Typical. Why is it that whenever someone gets kidnapped, they get tied to an old wooden chair? Why couldn’t it be a couch or one of those soft deck chairs? You could hear some scampering around you, three, maybe four people had entered the room you were in. You can smell their shitty cheap cologne that they most likely think bend women at the knees. You knew what kind of people they were before even seeing them. 

“Well well. Looks like my men have caught a pretty mouse of us to play with.” The heavy voice echoed around the room, hinting to you that you were most likely in an open area. A warehouse, maybe? “You are gonna be my ticket to freedom songbird.” 

You had to cringe at the pet name that fell from his lips. The name you were known as in the mafia world. More specifically, Ateez’s Songbird. You tried to sit still, hoping to show a fraudulent sense of confidence, but in reality, you were petrified. You no longer had the eight men you loved dearly to save you. Then again, you had no one to save you. Most of your friends lived out of town and wouldn’t even come to the rescue if you begged. You were alone with these men. Blindfolded and at their will. The man you assume was talking before lifted your blindfold off, seeing your eyes suddenly gaze upon the piercing light from the headlamp above you. You can see your suspicions were correct, four men ranging from sizable jock build to more lean ones but in the end, they were all ghastly, staring you down as if you were nothing more than a piece of meat.

“I want to know where Ateez is….” The grunt that escaped from the immoral male smelled of booze and low-quality cigars. His eyes were painted his redness, as if he hadn't slept in days, weeks even. He was boarding insanity at this rate by his expression. “Well come on, I know you know where they are, and to be blunt, I need them dead. You know business and all.” He rambles, walking around your figure while you sit there listening to his utter bullshit. His words remind you of when a villain in the story starts blabbering to the captor about how they needed to defeat the hero in order to take over the world. But in this case, both sides are just as villainous as each other, and the “world” that’s referenced is stocks… weapons, contraband, drugs, money. The list goes on and on.

“Why are you so quiet, Songbird? Protecting your lovers?” 

Now that one made you laugh, shaking your head in annoyance. Argh, what you would give to be home with a strong whiskey in hand right now. Your reaction sent a shocked expression to the disgusting man's face. He expected you to plea, beg for him to not hurt Ateez, to not hurt the loves of your life and yet here you sit, laughing right in his face like he had just said the most entertaining thing to you.

“I don’t know where they are.” You finally spoke, a sadistic smile painted your face. To never backed down from his gaze, almost trying to intimidate him with your blazed stare. “Why would I know, or care where they are? They don’t care about me.”

His paced. Fuck. He thought. Did his men really just kidnap you for no reason? He was going to shoot someone for this. He began to sweat, you were his only hope of getting the men he hates, attention. And now you were useless. His hand raked through his hair, coming down to scratch the stubble on his chin. What is he going to do with you now? Looking back at you his eyes slid down your body from head to toe, as if he was a predator sizing up his prey. You felt a sudden uneasiness. Maybe telling the man that held your life in his hand you were useless, wasn’t your greatest idea.

He moved away, whispering to one of his men before he sent him off, turning back to you straight after. He stepped one foot in front of the other in a slow and formed way, as if he had come up with the best plan in history. His devious smile brought a lump in your throat and the way he leaned down in front of you, placing both hands on the chair arms so he was face to face with you. “Well, little dove. We can find other uses for you, hmm?”

An idea popped into your head, and maybe it was your hotheadedness or your sheer stubbornness to do things out of spite. Bringing your body back slacked against the chair frame, you watched as his smirk grew, thinking he had finally managed to scare you, but before he could react, you whipped your head forward. Your forehead smashes against his nose with a sickening crack, and a blood-curtailing scream follows. The man gripped his nose with a sharp hiss. You could see blood pouring down like a waterfall from his nose, spilling all over his clothes and floor. Your blurred vision and ache in your skull doesn’t last long as you shake your head. You can see his men crowding around him to see if he is okay.

“Bitch!” He swore, standing up straight from his crouched position to stomp over to you and slap you clean in your face, making you and the chair fall over, smacking your side against the concrete. You can feel your wrist twist before popping out of place from the impact. Your elbow scraped against the harsh floor along with your arm, making you feel the sensation of your blood escaping through the broken skin. A cut on the top of your head also spilled some blood onto the floor making a headache begin to form. Maybe this wasn’t your best idea.

“Get the kit. I wanna teach this whore a lesson.” He spat out some blood that spilled into his mouth from his nose.

“whore? I thought it was bitch? Or as it little dove?” you need to shut your mouth but you choose to keep pushing his buttons. Idiot. He kicked you square in the gut making you hitch your breath before almost coughing up a lung at the pain. Your watered eyes could now barely see as you tried to blink the tears away. You spot out the corner of your eye a bag of what you could only guess, torture tools. Great, now you really fucked up.

-

You had passed out at least two or three times, and every time, you were woken up by ice-cold water to the face. The temperature of the water stung your opened wounds and burned at your hot red flesh. Time was absent to you, not knowing how long you’d been sitting, tied to the comfortable chair. God, your limbs were gonna ache once you were able to get out. that’s if you get out. 

Maybe you will die here. The irony. Dying in a place of crime in a life of anguish when you so desperately tried to run from it. To try so hard to clean up and forget the darkness that lingered in your past. But in truth, you missed. As sicken as it sounded. You missed the violence, the thrill, the wealth and power. You missed being feared by your enemies and adored by your lovers. Call you sadistic for finding nostalgia in torture, but it was true. Even if you were the one who was currently being hurt, you couldn’t help but smile weakly.

“I found her!!” A muffled voice and sounds of gunshots echoed around you. But you were so dazed you couldn’t seem to pinpoint the noise. Your eyes were fuzzed, and blood tainted your view. Everything was happening so fast until you saw the stillness.

“Y-yuyu?” Your eyes glossed, seeing a blurred figure that resembled Yunho. But it couldn’t be him, could it? You must be dreaming, finally getting ready to leave this plane, but why would your guardian angel look like Yunho?

“I’ve got you, baby. Hold on.” You had already passed out for the final time before you would hear another word slip from your ex-lover's mouth. His rough hands gripped the rope that bounded your hands, cutting it away with his pocket knife. He snaked his arm under your legs and on your lower back, picking you up from the old wooden chair with ease. Your blood had pooled on the floor and now trailed behind Yunho as he jogged with you in his arms. His suit was now tainted red from you, but he couldn’t care less. The only thing on his mind was getting you to safety and maybe killing some assholes along the way. 

-

To say you couldn’t explain the pain surging through your body was correct. You had never experienced such torture before, and man, you were definitely regretting some of the stupid shit you had said to the low-life mob boss earlier. Your vision was still so blurred, and your head was ringing. You could faintly see a bedside with a clock on it. But the face was dark like it was unplugged. You know this place. You remembered the smell of vanilla and pine. You remembered the dark spruce bed frame and emerald forest green bed sheets. You weren’t thinking when you started to snuggle into the bedding, inhaling the comforting scent.

You missed his smell. You missed being in this bed. God, you didn’t realize how much you missed them. You wanted to be strong. You didn’t want them, didn’t want to forgive them. But the comfort…. tears were falling from your cheeks onto the silk pillow. You were sobbing, and your mind was beside itself. One part screaming at you, telling you to suck it up and leave. But on the other side, you were so tired. So, so…tired…. and all you wanted was your boys. 

“Sugar…” You froze, hearing the man that belonged to the bedroom. His deep voice, velvet and smooth. You could hear a crack in it like he had been in tears prior. You didn’t move, frozen with fear, because you knew if you looked at him in those beautiful brown eyes, you would be done for. “Baby, are you awake?”

He knew you were, but he didn’t want to approach you without knowing if it was okay. He knew by the way you looked at them last time you saw them that you had feared them. Something he never wanted to see in your beautiful innocent gaze. Torment that he and the others caused. He would never forgive himself, so he understood if you never did either. “I want to go home…”

You didn’t know what else to say. So god damned scared to stay cause if you did, you might not leave. And you couldn’t do that. What they put you through. You couldn’t possibly begin a relationship with them again… right? “Mingi, please take me home…” you felt so small calling for him, you didn’t want to be surrounded by his scent but at the same time, you didn’t so much as budge from the covers. You didn’t want him to be near you, but yet when he sat down on the edge of the bed, your body was screaming to be held by him. Everything was so messed up. Why did it have to end up like this? Why was this your ending with them?

Mingi couldn’t find his wording, his hand coming up to your covered shoulders, putting a firm but gentle touch on it. He wanted nothing more than to hold you, kiss you. Make love to you while repeating how sorry he was over and over while he caused you to come over and over. “I missed you…” His voice cracked. “We all have…” better now than never to explain himself, right? “After the first couple of weeks, we found out that those pictures were faked. A way to manipulate us into crumbling our empire. They thought if they could put us all at each other's throats. I guess they won…”

“How did you find they were fake?” You asked in a whisper, keeping your face covered with the bed sheet. 

“Another anonymous tip went off that San was ‘sneaking’ around with some guy. But Wooyoung was quick to debunk it cause San was with him that whole week. So we quickly found out that this was a ploy to rip us all apart… which worked.” Mingi regretted every word he spoke. They managed to find out San was innocent quicker than you. San was lucky he had an alibi, though unlike you, that was away without their knowledge, just trying to buy a gift for your anniversary... god, they were so stupid...

“It...Worked?” You were confused about that since it only caused you to leave. From your knowledge, the boys were all still together? Mingi sighed, standing up, which caused you to peek out from your hiding spot to see him pouring a whiskey from the small bar in the corner of the room. Before downing the amber-coloured liquor.

“Seonghwa and Hongjoong became obsessed with work. They’ve become biter…” He took another shot of the harsh liquor. “Cruel… The number of people they’ve put in the dungeons just from looking in their direction wrong.”

You felt sick, flashes of them yelling at you, cursing you. The image of them with that anger plus a gun. You felt sorry for any of the suckers that were unlucky enough to gaze at them wrong. You tangled your fingers into the soft sheets, playing with the velvet fabric. You note how the hand that had popped out earlier was still slightly swollen and numb, making you barely able to feel the fabric on your right fingertips. “W-What about the others…”

“Jongho spent most of his time looking for you. Spying on you. Seeing all the achievements you have made.” He sounded proud of you for a moment like he sought knowledge of your life from the youngest. “Yeosang drove himself into his computer work, taking on small tasks in the outer parts of the city. If we hadn’t said we brought you home, he would have still been hiding somewhere.” He flicked his hand in the air, scoffing slightly.

“San and Wooyoung changed the most when you left. They became lost without you, distant… different. Like the sunshine was ripped from their life, and darkness consumed them.”

He took a seat at the end of the bed again. You had sat up, crossing your legs, eyeing his figure. He has gotten bigger than the last time you’ve seen him. He’s bulked up, and from what your memory could recall, Yunho was bigger as well. The way his arms felt being around you as he carried you to safety were definitely bulkier. “And what about you? Yunho?”

He huffed, glancing up at you. His hand was so close to your covered legs. So close yet so far. “Yunho and I are…fine. We missed you.”

You knew fine meant they were both struggling just as much as the others. You shifted, moving a little closer to him. Your heart was still aching, but your body was craving to feel some warmth. and at this point, you were so tired. Tired of fighting, tired of running. Tired of anyone telling you who or how to live your life? who cares if you run back to your exes? Who cared if you decided you move back with them? It’s not like you have friends or family that would tell you otherwise. All you had was them. Eight cruel mob bosses who would do anything for you and who were scared when they thought you had betrayed them. “I missed you too.”

His wide, glossy eyes snapped to yours. Like he had just heard someone spill the secret to life itself. His mouth went dry, a lump forming in his throat. He didn’t know what to say. He wanted to spill his guts about how much he missed your smile and missed your laugh. Missed the way you would tease him for being too clingy, but yet you were just as clingy in the next breath. He missed the way your body would melt against his on cold nights, searching for warmth. Or how you would fit so perfectly around his….

“Min…You mind is wondering…” You knew his tells, and you knew he was sinking into his mind. 

“I uh…I’m just trying to find the words to say I’m sorry without it sounding like it was an excuse.”

“I believe you’re sorry, mingi. I believe you are all sorry. It doesn’t change or fix what happened. And it’s going to take time for me to trust you all again. But…” You leaned over, placing your hand on his shaking thigh. “I do forgive you.”

He broke.

“We don’t deserve your forgiveness. We don’t deserve you…” Tears were falling down his red cheeks, making you jump to wipe each one away without a second thought. You hadn’t realized how close you were until you noted the smell of the whiskey on his breath and the warmth of his body radiating to yours.

“You might not deserve me. But who is here to tell me to stay away…” he gave you a smile. You didn’t want to forgive him or the others fully per se, but you did want this push-and-pull game. This cruel twisted game of forbidden love. 

“The others are going to want to see you…” He spoke cautiously, afraid you might recoil away from him if he spoke too loudly. You just sighed, lowering your hands into your lap once again, sitting back. You could feel your wounds with every movement, but it wasn’t as painful as before. They must have given you some painkillers prior to when you were passed out. You were about to speak when a sudden thud was heard, quickly followed by a bunch of hushed whispers. You couldn’t help but smirk at the childishness, for angry mafia kings they sure know how to act like goofballs.

“They’re outside aren’t they?” You cocked your brow, giving Mingi a simple straight expression. He just rubbed the back of his neck with a small whisper of, ‘Sorry.’

You rolled your eyes, telling him to let them in. Your heart might have been racing faster than a race car, but you tried to hide the growing anxiousness with a plain expression. You were going to hear them all out. You were going to hug San and Wooyoung as they sobbed on the end of your bed with mumblers of ‘I’m sorry.’ over and over again. You were going to give Yeosang a knowing look, so he knew that his silence was accepted and that you weren’t mad. You were going to thank Yunho for saving you, and he was going to kiss your palm as you held his cheek briefly.

And you were going to cry.

Sob at how Hongjoong sat on his knees, grovelling for your forgiveness and pleading how he was so messed up for not believing you. You’d all cry seeing the leader so vulnerable. And Seonghwa. Your darling, hwa… you would see such sorrow in his eyes. But you would let him kiss your cheek, hold you for a moment. Let him have you for a moment while you get your mind into check.

This was not a redemption. This was not forgetting. But a new chance.

Not a new chapter but a new book entirely.

You were going to grow, do your own thing. Be with them while you find yourself. And maybe, just maybe. You’d take Jongho’s offer all those years ago…and finally say yes…

— ♡

[beneaththebirches]

Seafoam Green

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Female!Reader

Summary: Rafe and the reader meet at Midsummer and continue their most recent naughty shenanigans.

A/n: Just a reminder this is a repost from my original account @sublimecatgalaxy! Love you all!

Midsummer is the same every year.

Loud music, drunk adults, bored teenagers wandering around, stealing sips of parents drink when they're not looking, too enthralled in conversations of wealth and status with others.

The whole night is just a fun excuse to get dressed up and pretty, an excuse to make people look at you with wide, intrigued eyes- it's like the one night of the year where girls can be princesses without strange looks. Pretty but dainty diamond tiara's, flowing dresses, a sneak peak underneath for those you end up going home with.

My dress is green, his favorite color, a dash of silver and green on my eyelids, sparkling under the twinkling lights just enough to get the attention of who I want.

It's been all night and he's yet to notice me from across the room but I've noticed him; black suit, a pale green shirt underneath, his hair swooped to the side in a calculated way and it makes me feel drawn to him, like a moth to a flame.

When he notices me, he looks around- almost to see if anyone's watching- before he approaches me with a kind smile, eyes dipping down the front of my dress, giving me a once over as his cheeks blush an auburn red.

"You look stunning." He smiles, holding his hand out to me which I gladly take, slipping my hand into his as he leads me away from the bar and to the wooden floor where, mostly, the older people dance. He pulls me flush against him with a grin, hand slipping down my exposed back and I instinctually wrap my arms around his neck, securing myself to him.

"You look good too, Rafe." I soothe my hands down the front of his suit and he grins, hands gripping my waist as we wander slowly throughout the dance floor, skilled and untouched by the laughing couples around us. Like it's only us.

"We matched." He smiles, pinching the fabric of my dress as I give him a simple knowing nod, shoulders shrugging.

"I'm smarter than you think I am." He grins wickedly at the confident smirk that I give him and he bends me back over his arm, dipping me skillfully without wobbling in the slightest.

"You're more beautiful that you think you are." His eyes seem to be fixated on the ways that my lips spread out into a bashful smile, tongue sweeping out to wet my lips as I lift myself to his ear, whispering quietly so only he can hear me.

"I just thought you would like to know that I’m not wearing any underwear right now." His body turns to stone against mine, hands stalling momentarily from the sweet circles he was drawing into my skin with his thumbs and I feel a rush of confidence wash over me as I lower myself back down to my heels. "Do what you must with this information."

"Come with me." He says without another word, gripping my hand and dragging me past both of our parents and into the building. I can already see the bathroom in view and know what this means, nervous butterflies swarming in my stomach at the thought of feeling him. "I want you to bad." He mutters, shoving the door open with a bang and locking the door after giving the bathroom a once over as we finally find ourselves alone. "Sit down." He orders and my brows furrow, not sure why I would have to be sitting down for him to fu-

"What're you-" I start but he forces me down into the seat without looking up into my eyes, his whole body lowering in front of me so he can kneel on the ground between my thighs, hands already working on pushing up the fabric of my dress as it dawns on me what he wants. He's never done this for me before.

"Bend your legs, sweetheart." He pats my thighs gently and I do what he says, not in the mood to argue and give him any push back when he's look up at me like that, eyes full of excited lust as he whispers against the sensitive skin of my thighs. "Fuck, you're so beautiful."

[zepskies]

Hello. I was wondering if you could write an imagine in the BMD-verse (been following it for a while now; love, love, love it, by the way!) where Ben cries?

Like something really bad happens in general or to the Reader, and he losses it? I mean, personally, I have never known this man to cry, and I would love to see you conjure up something that could possibly elicite that reaction from him.

But no pressure - will definitely understand if you don't want to write it!

Oooh, so you really wanna kill me, huh? 🫠😭😭

Lol it's okay, thank you for loving Break Me Down!! It's one of my favorite story verses that I've been able to create on here. ❤️❤️

This request was difficult for me on multiple levels, but I think I was able to pull it off? (I'll let you be the judge.) This is set in the BMD-verse, shortly after "Love Actually."

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x Reader

Word Count: 2,400 Tags/Warnings: Major angst, show-level violence, hurt/comfort, "twist" ending (you'll want to read until the end, trust me).

Imagine: Ben loses you.

Ben restrained another sigh when he realized you were no longer walking next to him.

He turned and saw you stopping in another damn kiosk, this time looking at a selection of Pashmina scarves. As if you didn’t have enough clothes.

“We’re not here for a damn shopping spree,” he called after you.

He ignored the people who glanced at him as they walked past, a couple of them even shooting him an annoyed look.

One didn’t just stop in the middle of a busy sidewalk in New York City, but as with most societal protocols, Ben couldn't really give a fuck.

He almost started tapping his foot. Instead, he crossed his arms as he glared in your general direction. You were smiling and chatting with the woman selling her wares as you finished the transaction.

Ben at least could admire the view of you bent over in those tight jeans and ankle boots. You also wore the dark green winter coat he bought you last month, lined with faux fur to keep you warm.

When you eventually came back to him, you shot him an amused smile. You held a new scarf in shades of green and blue, to match your coat. But you also held out a new pair of leather gloves for him.

“Here you go, Grumpy. I didn't forget about you,” you teased. He raised a wry brow at you and took the gloves. He inspected them with a half-critical eye.

“And how much did these cost, five cents?”

You rolled your eyes and kept walking. He caught up with you and slipped the gloves into his pocket.

“My hands don’t get cold anyway,” he reminded you. And you often complained that his body heat was like a radiator, especially at night. Although, you hadn’t been complaining since the winter turned frigid this February.

“All right, whatever. Just don’t say I never get you anything,” you quipped. “Besides, you know you love to accessorize.”

A smirk pulled at Ben’s lips. The gloves were a half-assed gift, but he still wore the watch you got him for Christmas proudly on his wrist. That was a nice silver Rolex.

“All I know is, we’d better not be late for this damn meeting,” he said. “I don’t wanna hear Mallory’s fucking mouth.”

The two of you had made a day of coming into the city, hitting a nice brunch spot and ice skating at Rockefeller center before your date had been rudely interrupted—by a call for a new mission.

Grace Mallory had been a bit cryptic on the phone, but it had something to do with the mess Ben left of the drug cartels in South America. After they got back to the States, Ben left that “business” behind…he just hadn’t thought of how that would shake out in Colombia.  

So now, you two were headed to the Supe Affairs building. You slipped your arm around his, while his hands were in his pockets. You looked up at him with a smile.

“Try to enjoy the little things, Ben,” you told him. “We had mimosas and some bougie ass lobster tails with our eggs this morning. I skated circles around you on the ice. And now we’re going to get some work done.”

“On our day off,” he retorted.

“To be fair, you made the mess, Mr. Kingpin,” you pointed out. “We’ve just gotta clean it up…as usual.”

“Hey," he eyed you. But you both knew the warning had little heat behind it.

He still reached for your cheek and brushed his thumb across it. He felt how cold your face was, and he stopped for a moment in the middle of the sidewalk. Neither of you cared when pedestrians gave you dirty looks as they passed by.

Maybe you were right though. Maybe he should take stock of the small moments. Ben held your face with both hands and caressed some warmth back into your skin.

Your smile softened, and your eyes closed when his lips found their way to your forehead. He then took the newly bought scarf out of your hand and wrapped it comfortably around your neck.

“What a gentleman,” you said, with a small grin.

Ben smirked down at you…until his face fell.

He heard the whistle of the bullet before he saw it.

It took him another second to move, grabbing you and shielding you with his entire body when it hit his back. The bullet itself bounced harmlessly off his skin, but the inner compartment of Novichok exploded like a small smoke bomb. The smell was too familiar to him to be anything else.

Ben coughed and was forced to push you away from him before the gas reached you. You yelped and almost tripped on your feet, but you scrambled back against the wall of a drycleaners. Your wide eyes met his as his knees buckled; the gas had clouded around his head.

“Run!” he shouted through fits of coughing.

You hesitated, for just a second. But when another bullet ricocheted into the wall behind you, near your head, you ducked and had to take off running.

You wove through the busy sidewalk, pushing people out of your way as you went. Whoever was after him this time, you had a feeling these were the people Ben had pissed off in Colombia.

Fuck! You sprinted past an alleyway and saw the hand coming for your arm, but even when you turned, there was another man, dressed a black military-style uniform with his face covered by a black mask, waiting to grab you from behind.

It was muscle memory. You released an elbow into the man’s neck, a punch straight into his teeth and nose, then kicked his knee out with the heel of your boot.

You grabbed your gun from under your jacket and would've shot him, except the next man wheelhouse kicked it out of your hand. You stepped back on instinct, ducking the following punch, and the rest of his arm to run in the opposite direction.

The first man pointed a large automatic gun straight in your face. You gasped and put your hands up. With a quick glance in either direction, you realized that they’d cornered you.

Your hands were pulled behind your back by someone else. That’s when they started dragging you toward a black SUV parked in the corner.

Except that car was soon destroyed, by an old Honda Civic being shoved into it. The SUV's hood constantined like an accordion.

You looked up with wide eyes, and there stood Ben, at the crossroads of the alley. He was furious.

“Soldier Boy,” greeted the man who once again held the automatic gun poised at you. He pulled down his mask, revealing the tan face of a middle-aged man.

He moved over to you and grabbed your arm from his subordinate. He raised the gun to your back. With one press of his finger, your insides could become Swiss cheese.

Your jaw clenched as you tried to take in even breaths. You focused on Ben. His green eyes met yours, and briefly you caught the worry behind them before his steely gaze moved back to the man who held you.

“Pretty ballsy, Reyes,” Ben said. His voice was a drawl, more controlled than he felt. “You really thought this was gonna go down that easy?”

Reyes scoffed. “You’re the ballsy one. Taking off with all that product you stole.”

“You’ll have to take up with the CIA on that one,” Ben replied. “They confiscated all the smack from my place. Probably reselling it to a few hobos down the street. You’re welcome to check under the bridge over there.”

He gestured in the direction of the Hudson River.  

Reyes shrugged. The sound of a gun’s safety being clipped back resounded through the alley. You felt the vibration of it on your back. Your eyes closed for a moment.

“Bad news for her,” he said.

"Hey," Ben snapped. "There's no fucking need for that."

"I think I'll decide what we need," said Reyes. Your lips pursed as the gun dug into your back. "Maybe it's your bitch's insides at your feet."

Ben slowly raised a placating hand. Though his gait was still relaxed and arrogant, as always, you knew it was a well-crafted act. To hide his anger. His fear. To seem in control of himself, and to reinforce the intimidating presence he still was, even unarmed.

“Listen. If it’s money you want, we can work it out,” Ben replied.

His eyes once again found yours. He could see you were holding your breath. You were good at hiding it, but he knew you were scared. He wanted to tell you that he had this handled. That everything would be all right.

He focused on Reyes again. The other man considered the supe with a tilt of his head. He sucked his teeth and spit on the ground, out of the corner of his mouth. It was mixed with a bit of blood from when you'd punched him in the teeth.

“Okay, my friend,” said Reyes. “Let’s work this out. Pull out your phone.”

Ben made slow movements in grabbing his phone from his pocket. They all stepped further into the alley to avoid prying eyes and discussed the transfer of funds, and how much was fair. Ben claimed he was giving him a deal with his first offer.

Reyes demanded three times that amount. Ben raised his brows...but he complied. The money transferred from his bank account.

“Okay, we’re fucking done,” Ben snarked. He gestured at you with his eyes. “Let her go.”

In his mind, he was already contemplating how thoroughly he'd rip Reyes apart for this. After you were safe. He'd have a first class ticket to Medellin by tonight, ready to Colombian-necktie this cocksucker.

Reyes sighed through his nose. There was still about ten feet between him and Ben. He didn't seem to think it was enough. He took the gun off your back and backed up with you a few steps. Eventually, he released your arm.

“Come ‘ere, sweetheart,” Ben reached a hand out, beckoning for you. You met his gaze once again, and let out a subtle breath.

You took three hesitant steps forward.

And the gunshots echoed horribly through the alley.

As it turned out, Reyes always had an escape plan. You were merely the distraction.

It proved effective, as Ben’s protest rang out as soon as the bullets fired. He raced forward and caught you as you stumbled, but his hands soon became coated in your blood; it fled from your back in thin rivulets.

You gasped and clung to his arms. His ears rang with the sound, along with tires squealing and shouts and police sirens. All he could focus on was the color draining from your face.

Both of your breaths came out ragged as he slid with you down to his knees. He brushed your hair away from your face, even as his blood-covered hand stained your cheek. Your pained eyes drew up to his face. You tried to speak, but you didn't have the strength.

“I hear the sirens. They’re coming for you, take you to the hospital,” he promised. His voice was rough, but his throat was tight. His eyes scanned over you. “All you need is my blood and…Christ. Fuck it all.”

He laid you down on the dirty asphalt and hurriedly yanked up his coat sleeve until it ripped. It exposed his arm. He was about to drag a blunt nail across his own skin to bleed into you.

“Ben.” Your fingers twitched against his knee.

When he looked at your face, there was no longer life in your eyes.

His own were wide, almost uncomprehending. His breathing was harsh as empty hands fell to his thighs. His head felt heavy, though his ears were still ringing.

He drew enough strength in his hand to wipe the blood from your cold cheek…but your face was beginning to blur.

Or not, he realized, as the sting in his eyes took him by surprise.

In a fit of mania, he gathered you back up in his arms and ignored the wetness covering your back. He held you, impossibly tight. Tighter than he’d ever held you, because he was alone in the alley…because he was alone again.

And it was his own fault.

His eyes squeezed shut against the burn, but it was futile. Everything was. His breaths were sharp and stifled as pain tore inside. A pain worse than anything the Russian's could've inflicted on him.

His lips pressed against your forehead, trembling there. The first drops of wetness rolled down his cheek. He couldn't stop it from happening, but then again. He guessed he truly was a failure, after all.

You made the mess…

His first tears had been spent at his mother’s funeral, when he stood alone at her gravestone.

His last ones would fall and die with you.

“Ben,” your voice was soft but insistent.

He finally woke with a start. A sharp inhale through his nose.

He had been sleeping on his side. Before he even truly registered where he was, in the safety of his bedroom, he turned his head toward you.

His eyes found your face in the dark, over his shoulder. Your hair was frizzy from sleep. The strap of your nightgown had fallen off one shoulder. Your face looked bleary and tired, but you frowned in concern.

“You okay, baby?” you asked. Your hand soothed across the dewy skin on his arm.

Ben’s throat constricted. He was starting to remember bits and pieces of the dream…the nightmare. He rubbed at his eyes, then dragged a hand over his mouth.

“Yeah,” he said at last.

“Hmm.” Your gaze narrowed at him. “You sure?”

Ben had only enough energy in him to nod in response. His heart was still racing. Maybe you sensed that, because you leaned onto his arm and dropped a hand down his chest. You kissed his bare shoulder with soft lips, and he couldn’t help himself.

He raised a hand to cup the back of your head. He let out a long, relieved sigh through his nose, closing his eyes. Then he turned onto his back and brought you closer, with an arm slipping around your frame and pulling you against his chest. You made a sound of surprise, but you went willingly.

You brushed the sweaty strands of hair away from his face and pressed a kiss against his neck, to his jaw, his cheek and above his brow. He accepted it all and tried to calm his breathing with the feeling of your touch, and the smell of your flowery soap that lingered on your skin.

With a hand still cupping your head, he guided your lips to his. He claimed you slowly, but with purpose. You answered him by tilting your head, deepening the kiss for a moment.

You parted from him just as slowly. You knew everything wasn’t okay, but you also knew it wasn’t the time to push him for an answer.

Maybe in the morning, you thought. …I’ll make pancakes. Haven't done that in a while. And he’s always happier with something sweet.

You rested contentedly against his warm chest and let his heartbeat, gradually slowing back into a steady rhythm, lull you back to sleep.

Ben tangled his fingers into your hair. He laid one more kiss on the top of your head.

And for damn sure, he was going to cancel that trip into the city tomorrow.

AN: I know, I know. The "it was all a dream" thing is super cheesy, but I couldn't leave it on heartbreak. I just don't have it in me with these two. 🥲❤️‍🩹

Read the Sequel:

A friend of mine requested a sequel to this imagine: "You confront Ben about his fears."

Soldier Boy Masterlist

Main Masterlist

BMD Tag List (Part 1):

@deans-spinster-witch @this-is-me19 @waynes-multiverse @mrsjenniferwinchester @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @spalady26 @spnwoman @syrma-sensei @wirdbeimaufhebengebunden @muhahaha303 @123passwort

@xoxovienna @katherineann814 @lollag0w0 @globetrotter28 @nancymcl @ashbatz @secretdreamlandmentality @kristophalis @wonderland2022 @emily-winchester @shelh93 @sl33pylilbunny @spoonmynoodle @chernayawidow

@buckybarnes-1917 @asgardprincess97 @sometimes-i-sing @itsyellow @karnellius @kimberleymjw @is-this-a-febreze-commercial @iamsapphine @sanscas @se-fucking-hun @lassie-bird @jessjad @yepimthatperson @fromcaintodean @stoneyggirl2

@spnfamily-j2 @im-a-slut-for-fluff @lacilou @venicesem @mimaria420 @vanillawhiskeyflavoredkisses @tearsfortheyouth @agalliasi @chriszgirl92 @kazsrm67

[purple-babygirl]

in the far corner of the forest VI

Pairing: Orc!Bucky Barnes x human!f!reader

Word Count: 7,498 (my excuse is this is the last one)

Summary: For the longest time, the kingdom has used Bucky as their number one fighter, forcing him to win their wars for them. The only thing he asked for in return after he was done was that they give him a wife, and they did. They handed him the orphan he picked on a silver platter; it wasn't like anyone would miss her. It would've been perfect if she actually wanted to be there though.

Warnings: 18+ content, smut, dirty talk, oral (m receiving), female masturbation, so much cum, cum swallowing, Bucky is a lil filthy, multiple orgasms, pregnancy.

A/N: aaaand our story with our favorite orc comes to an end. I've certainly had a lot of fun writing this one and I loved you reading it even more. Thank you to every one who has been here since the beginning I love you with my whole heart. also if you see this, please wish me good luck on finding a job, your girl is broke and too weak for the streets. please enjoy xx💜💜

~

“I wanna talk to you about something,” she said, her gaze nervous as she set down a mug of green tea for Bucky on the dining table.

He was reading a bit while she finished up the kitchen work and he didn’t ask for tea, which meant she wanted something and was probably bribing him. It definitely made him curious to know what she was going to ask for.

Life with Bucky was an absolute dream. Their relationship was stable and solid and she thought it would be a good time to finally tell him about everything that has been occupying her mind lately.

“Is it that I need to lose weight?” Bucky teased, gesturing to the green tea before him.

“Bucky,” she whined, “I’m serious!”

Bucky laughed, “okay, okay,” he put the book down instantly, “I’m all yours, sweet thing.”

She smiled timidly, “promise me not to get mad.”

“I promise?” Bucky said, unsure what to think of this conversation.

What did she do?

“No, like, say the whole thing…”

“I promise not to get mad?”

“Thank you.” She sighed.

“What is it, my love?” Bucky held her hand in his, rubbing the back of it gently.

“I— umm I know that women working is frowned upon in our kingdom, but— um—”

“First of all, that’s just a human thing. Our females can do whatever they want. Second,” Bucky brought his other hand to her cheek, “you can talk to me, little human. Don’t be afraid. What is it that you want? Be sure that I’ll make it happen.”

She sighed again as she briefly leaned into Bucky’s touch before pulling away, “please don’t say no.” She pleaded.

“I have to know what you want first.” He chuckled lightly.

“Remember when you said that Sam and Sarah liked the strawberry jam I made?” She asked, chewing on her lower lip.

“Yes, and we’ve been their jam suppliers ever since.” Bucky laughed, holding his tea mug to take a sip.

“You also liked it, right?” She tilted her head anxiously.

“I loved it.” Bucky licked his tusks seductively.

She blushed, biting back a smile, “and— and the girls back at the orphanage would always tell me they liked my jams too.”

“As they should.” Bucky nodded, boosting her confidence, making her smile.

Gods, she loved him so much.

“So I was thinking maybe… maybe I could try and sell them?” She finally said the words, her voice hushing by the end of her question as she gauged her orc’s reaction.

“Sell them?” Bucky asked, setting his mug down.

She nodded, nervous again now that he didn’t seem to like the idea very much.

“Like in the market?”

“Yes.”

He stayed silent for a beat, a frown forming on his face as he thought about her request.

She put her hand back in Bucky’s, “if you say no, I won’t bring it up again, but—”

“I’m not gonna say no, sweet thing. I’m just worried,” Bucky said lowly, appearing to be deep in thought as he squeezed her smaller hand in his.

“Worried about what? I have saved money for everything! You would always give me a lot of money before we go out to the market and I’ve saved most of it. You’ve already gotten me everything I needed, so I didn’t really spend much. You don’t have to worry about buying materials! I know they would give us the fruits for a cheaper price if we buy in bulk—”

“Little human, that’s not what I’m worried about, and I’m not about to let my wife start her business with her savings. Your money is yours.” Bucky interrupted firmly, shaking his head at her.

She smiled warmheartedly as she hugged her orc’s hand to her chest, “then what are you worried about?”

“I’m worried about the people in the market. We don’t know how they would react to you putting up your own stand in there. There are no women there, sweet thing. As you said, it’s frowned upon.”

“There is Martha, the jewelry lady!”

“Yeah, but have you seen any other female besides Martha?” Bucky gave her a sad smile.

“No,” she mumbled, disheartened at the thought that she might not be able to bring her small business idea to life.

She knew that Martha was only working because she was a childless widow and the stand was originally her husband’s. She was the only one left to inherit and run it or else she wouldn’t be able to afford food.

“I’m not saying we’re not gonna do it,” Bucky brought her gaze to his by her chin, “but I can’t not worry about you.”

“I know.” She dipped her face to kiss Bucky’s palm, “what are we gonna do?”

“If a jam stand in the market is really what you want, then I will support you all the way until your booth is standing high in the middle of that market.”

She smiled fondly before feeling anxious once more, “what if the men in the market don’t like it?”

“Then they can take it up with me,” Bucky reassured her, his chest puffing involuntarily as he imagined having to fight for his wife.

“I don’t want any trouble, Bucky. I don’t want our peace to be disturbed. I don’t want you to have to fight again, at all.”

“At least then I’d be fighting for something I actually care about, and someone I’m knees-deep in love with.” Bucky sat her on his lap, his blue eyes gazing into hers.

Heat rose to her cheeks and tears to her eyes before she pressed her lips to Bucky’s, “thank you, my love.”

“Copycat,” Bucky teased, “you got nothing to thank me for, little human. I got your back. Always.”

“I’m still grateful,” she pecked his lips, “and even if I don’t end up having a stand in the market, your support will forever be enough for me, Bucky.” She gave him a passionate kiss, trying to convey her feelings through it.

She couldn’t believe how lucky she had turned out to be.

How many human husbands would support their wives’ dreams like that? How often were women even allowed to think about doing something for themselves or being financially independent in this kingdom?

She slowly slid off her orc’s lap and down to the floor, making Bucky tilt his head.

“What are you doing, sweet thing?”

“You promised you would teach me,” she said, her voice small as she let her hands massage up Bucky’s thighs.

“Oh, you feeling brave tonight, little human?” Bucky asked lowly, eyes growing dark as she brought her hand to his cock over his pants.

She nodded even though she internally had no idea what to do, but she was trusting her desire and Bucky’s guidance.

“Get your orc’s cock out then,” Bucky instructed, making her pussy clench before her eager fingers started pushing his pants down, revealing his big cock to her eyes.

Her hands hesitated, reaching for his length before withdrawing and looking at Bucky for help, shifting on her knees.

Bucky got up from the chair and she looked at him worriedly, afraid she had turned him off with her reluctance.

He returned to his seat after a second, pushing the pillow he brought with him under his wife’s knees as he helped her get comfortable.

She smiled gratefully at how loving and attentive Bucky was. He had his cock out but all he cared about was that her knees weren’t hurting on the wooden floor.

Gods, she got lucky.

“You can touch me, sweet thing.” Bucky encouraged softly.

She mustered up her courage and finally let her fingers wrap around Bucky’s cock. Well, try to wrap around his cock.

He was too big for her to be able to wrap her hand around him and it made Bucky’s cock twitch, seeing how small her hand was compared to his size.

She couldn’t believe she had managed to take all of him in her pussy every single night for the past week.

She had to use both of her hands before simultaneously squeezing them around her orc’s cock like he had previously shown her; it was the only thing she knew how to do.

Bucky’s jaw went slack as he threw his head back at the simple touch, “move your hands up and down, little human.”

“Like that?” She asked as she slowly followed the instructions.

“Yes, yes, oh fuck yes,” Bucky moaned, wrapping his hands around hers, pumping himself harder with her hands.

She watched as Bucky closed his eyes in pleasure, deep groans leaving his chest and pre-cum the tip of his cock because of her touch.

She wanted to ask permission but her instincts moved faster than her mind as she cautiously let her the tip of her tongue swipe against the head of Bucky’s cock, aching to know what he tasted like.

And oh did he taste good; a bit musky, a bit salty and a bit of something she could only identify as Bucky. It was addictive and she wanted more.

Bucky jumped above her, his cock jerking in her hands as he opened his eyes at the tiny lick he felt her give his cock.

“Was that the wrong thing to do?” She asked, unsure of her moves, “I thought it was okay for me to put my mouth there?” she hesitated shyly, suddenly embarrassed of her neediness.

“It is. It is more than okay, my love. Please do it again,” Bucky begged, his hand coming down to cup her cheek, thumb stroking her skin adoringly as he brought her face closer to his cock.

He was sure she and her innocence were going to be the death of him, yet at the same time, he couldn’t wait to ruin her; make her his dirty little cock slut of a wife.

She tentatively let the tip of her tongue lick against the head of Bucky’s cock again, keeping her eyes on him.

Bucky groaned, his abdomen tensing as he felt himself already close.

He couldn’t believe how embarrassingly ready to burst she had managed to have him every time she touched him or as much as moaned for him. He could go for hours before, but with her it was like she knew exactly which buttons to press to get him drooling and leaking for her, and yet, she didn’t. Not at all, really.

She gave a bigger lick, letting herself savor her orc’s taste this time, moaning as she put her mouth on his tip, suckling ever so softly.

Bucky was huge and getting him inside her mouth like she felt she wanted to was going to be a challenge, but she wasn’t one to back down from challenges. Not anymore.

She was going to make Bucky feel good and she was going to do it with her mouth.

She could barely get the tip past her lips and it was already too much for her untrained mouth. Tears gathered in her eyes when Bucky involuntarily jerked his hips forward, making her gag on his cock.

“I’m so sorry, my love—” Bucky quickly pulled out of her mouth, worry written all over his face.

“Don’t be, Bucky. I— I kinda liked it.” She confessed, heat spreading on her cheeks.

“Oh, you liked choking on my cock, little human?” Bucky teased darkly as he pumped himself and she nodded shyly.

“Can I try again?” She asked, voice small and timid.

“All yours, sweet thing.”

She put her mouth back on the tip, feeling proud of herself as she managed to properly suck on it without her teeth getting in the way.

Bucky’s cock was so big and it was certainly testing for her to take another inch into her mouth but she did it, softly moaning on her orc’s length as she tasted more of his precum on her tongue.

“Keep using your hands, little human,” Bucky instructed, her mouth feeling heavenly on his cock.

She listened right away, her hands pumping up and down the inches she couldn’t yet fit into her mouth.

“Good girl,” Bucky groaned wantonly, “you’re so good for me, sweet thing.”

Bucky’s encouragement made her want to do better, to do more for him.

She pulled off of him for one second, taking a long breath as Bucky watched her with hooded eyelids.

And when she was ready, she opened her mouth as wide as she could, taking half of Bucky’s cock down her throat all at once.

“Gods, fuck!” He exclaimed, barely holding himself back from lurching over and shoving the whole thing down her warm wet throat as his hand flow to cup the back of her head.

She kept one hand on Bucky’s length as the other moved down to touch her own heat.

The sounds coming out of Bucky, his taste and the way his cock was making her drool as she choked on it were driving her up the wall with need.

She has never touched herself before and she didn’t know what has gotten into her as she slipped her hand down her panties, trying to imitate Bucky’s touches on her clit. Her fingers couldn’t compare, but she was throbbing, every sound that left Bucky’s chest vibrated in her clit; made her ache needily.

Bucky was turning to putty in her hands and it was the hottest thing she has ever witnessed.

She whined on Bucky’s cock and it made him open his eyes, realizing that she had now one hand only pumping him as the other disappeared under her dress.

“Are you touching yourself, little human?” Bucky chuckled breathily, making her whine in embarrassment.

Yet, her hand rubbed her clit even faster.

“Is sucking my cock making you all needy, sweet thing? Hmm? Can’t be around this fat cock without aching for it?”

She moaned in agreement, basically gurgling on Bucky’s fat cock as she forced herself to take another inch of him down her throat, making him grunt.

“Atta girl!” Bucky shouted in pleasure as he started to move in and out of her mouth, her allowing him to give her a little more of his thick cock every time he would slide back down her throat.

She continued breathing through her nose and circled her clit faster, feeling herself get closer to her release as her lower stomach tensed and tightened.

“Relax that throat for me, little human. There you go, good girl.”

Bucky was holding her head with both hands now, trying not to crane her neck back too much as he angled his hips just right for the tip of his cock to hit the back of her throat.

She gagged harshly and Bucky pulled out to give her a chance to breathe, “take your time, sweet thing. Doing so good for me,” he reassured, rubbing her back lovingly as she coughed and heaved.

“Again,” was all she said before she took his cock back in her mouth all the way down her throat that her nose was almost touching Bucky’s abs.

She let Bucky fuck her throat again, grateful for his gentleness as his balls hit her chin with each thrust.

“Fuck, you’re too good to me, sweet thing. So pretty taking my cock all the way down your throat like that.”

Bucky knew the exact second she came as her whines hummed on his cock while she let her orgasm take over. Her jaw went slack in his hand and he took the chance to quicken his pace, chasing his own orgasm.

“Fuck, little human, you’re a natural. Taking me so well— ahhh fuck. Just like that.”

Bucky almost roared as he came down her throat, smirking appreciatively as he felt her swallow around him, spluttering a little as he slowly pulled out.

He couldn’t be prouder of how hungry for his cock he had managed to make his little human as he watched her swallow every drop she could before the rest of Bucky’s cum ran down her lips, chin, neck and dress, his cock still throbbing at the sight of her covered in his cum; willingly claimed.

She let her butt touch the pillow underneath her knees as her body sagged, gasping and trying to catch her breath.

Her jaw was hurting like a bitch but she didn’t care. She has made Bucky lose it with her mouth and her mouth alone.

She suddenly felt her face go hot as the hand in her panties reminded her of what she had done while sucking her orc’s cock. She took her hand out of her underwear, quickly hiding it behind her back as if that would make everything she just did disappear.

Bucky laughed, putting his pants back on before cupping her cheeks as he got down on his knees before her, “what did I say, little human? Never hide from me.” He took her hand out from behind her back and brought her fingers to his face.

Bucky obscenely smelled her fingers, closing his eyes at the scent of her before wrapping his lips around them, lewdly moaning as he tasted the remnants of her juices on them.

Her face burned up as her lust was sated, leaving shyness to gnaw at her cheeks.

“Did— did you like that?” She croaked out, her voice hoarse, as he finished sucking on her fingers, desperately wanting to change the subject.

“Oh, sweet thing, I loved it.” Bucky smiled, satisfied and amazed by her, “you almost sucked my soul out of my cock there, little human.”

She giggled, blushing.

“And you touching yourself while giving me head? Damn, sweet thing! Who would’ve known?!” Bucky teased, making her sigh and hide her face in her hands.

“No, no, little human, it’s a good thing,” he laughed, taking her hands in his, “it was so fucking hot.”

“Really?”

Gods, how were her eyes still so innocent after what she had just done to him?

“Really.” Bucky smiled, kissing her knuckles.

“Thank you for letting me do it, Bucky, and for guiding me,” she said sincerely before throwing her arms around his neck, hugging him as she released a happy sigh.

Bucky just couldn’t wrap his mind around how perfect she was or how blessed he was.

She was thanking him for agreeing to ravish her with his cock. Truth was, he was the one who should thank her every day just for being his.

Bucky, the half-orc, seemed to have found and claimed jackpot.

“Thank you, little human.” Bucky turned his head to kiss her hair, “thank you for everything.”

~

True to his word, Bucky had done everything in his power to make her dream come true. He worked hard to get her a permit from the kingdom for a new stall in the market, using his previous status in the army to get them to sign and stamp those papers as soon as possible.

He had also designed and built her stand all by himself, making sure to make her a smooth counter for her elbows and real sturdy shelves to hold her jam jars.

And he knew exactly what he was going to engrave on the sign for her tiny shop.

Meanwhile, she and Sarah were browsing the nearby markets to pick a fruit supplier with which she could be comfortable. They had managed to find a kind old man who always had a display of the seasonal fruits in his shop. His fruits were ripe and fresh at all times and they had come to a fair agreement regarding the prices and the monthly supply they would need him to provide.

Then it was time to shop for utensils and Sarah had insisted on dragging Sam along for that one because there was no way the two women could carry that much stuff on their own. He left Bucky to continue working on the final touches on the stand and reluctantly joined the ladies.

She was the happiest as she picked new pots and sauce pans with Sarah as well as the cute little glass jars she would need to put the jam into.

Her life was coming together and she couldn’t be more thankful for everything and everyone she had.

She had an amazing husband and supportive, kind friends; a little family to call her own other than the one that had abandoned her long ago.

The group tried their best to haggle the prices on everything because she didn’t want Bucky to have to spend too much, seeing that he had insisted on paying for everything.

“I’m not negotiating, it’s either the price I asked for or we won’t take anything from you!”

Her head snapped up, dropping the ladles she was browsing when she heard Sam ‘haggling’ with the seller.

She had found things here that she couldn’t find anywhere else and she really liked them. Why was Sam sabotaging her shopping plan?

She grabbed onto her favorite pot as she walked over to the siblings.

“Sam, what are you doing? I’ve already picked like a billion things,” she whispered to the man, afraid that he was ruining a good bargain.

“Watch and learn,” Sarah whispered back to her with a reassuring smile, “you’re right, Sam. Let’s go. Thank you, we won’t be taking those. You can put them back, thanks.”

Her mouth was wide open as Sarah forcefully took the pot out of her hand, setting it down and grabbing her, dragging her to walk away.

“Guys, what are you doing?” She scream-whispered as they kept walking, leaving everything that she had carefully hand-picked behind.

“Okay, fine, wait!” The seller called for them before they could get too far, “you can have them— I’ll give them to you at the price you wanted!”

She looked at the Wilsons with an impressed smile and they smiled back, raising their eyebrows simultaneously as if to say “told you so”, making her laugh.

When they were finally done with everything they needed, they had made Sam carry most of the bags as she and Sarah waltzed back to a more feminine shop.

When they were finally done, Sam wanted to run back to his and Bucky’s shop before they could buy anything else, but he was carrying way too many things so he only made both ladies laugh as he looked like a pregnant penguin hoping over to the truck.

~

“You look happy. Did you get everything you needed, my love?” Bucky asked with a chuckle as she excitedly wrapped her arms around his neck, kissing his cheek as soon as she entered the shop.

“Yes.” She nodded with a smile, pecking her orc’s lips.

“Were these guys any help?” He nodded to the siblings, teasing them.

“We can hear you, you know!” Sam yelled from the supply closet as he set the last bag inside.

“Sarah and Sam were great help.” She softly slapped Bucky’s chest, “I don’t know what I would’ve done without them.” She smiled at Sam gratefully before running to hug Sarah.

“Anything for you, bestie. I’ve been around boys for too long and I’m so glad I get to have a fellow woman around here now.”

She giggled as Sarah hugged her back, imagining how lonely it must have been for her to only be surrounded by males.

“Hey! We’re great company!” Sam said, waving a finger at his sister.

“Sure you are, Samuel.” Sarah nodded until Sam had turned his head away, “I swear if I didn’t work here I wouldn’t have forced myself to put up with all the burping and farting.”

She chocked on a laugh as both Sam and Bucky glared at Sarah before she decided to dissolve the ‘tension’, “okay, okay, let’s eat!”

She got out the food she had prepared for everyone, chuckling as she handed Sam his meal after he made grabby hands at the wrapped box.

“Bucky, leave it for now and come eat,” she called for her husband when he saw he was too busy working down a plaque of wood.

“Almost done, sweet thing,” he mumbled, still focused on what he was doing.

Bucky looked like a masterpiece with his hair back in a low bun and the tip of his tongue out, hanging on a tusk as he fixated on the work at hand.

She couldn’t help but walk over and wrap her arms around him from behind, lovingly kissing his back.

The orc stopped his movements, smiling when he felt her tiny mouth press kiss after kiss to his back.

He turned around to face her, encasing her in his strong embrace as he leaned down to kiss her sweet lips.

“Your food is gonna get cold,” she whispered against Bucky’s lips.

“Let it get cold,” he said before deepening their kiss, holding her by the back of her head to bring her closer.

“Some people are trying to eat over here!” Sam shouted with his mouth full as Sarah playfully made gag noises.

Bucky groaned as she shyly pulled away from his lips, making her laugh when he whispered “I hate you” to Sam.

~

Things at the market have gone exactly like Bucky has feared.

It was her very first day, her stand was in place like Bucky had put it and she and Sarah were organizing the jars on the shelves as the men watched them with scowls.

She tried her best not to care. The wooden sign saying “Sweet Things” on top was shining in the sunlight and with it her smile.

Everything was going smoothly until both she and Sarah left the stand for a minute to go get the rest of the boxes off of Sam’s truck.

It was just one minute but it was enough for those who didn’t want her there to make it known.

When she came back, her glass jars were all on the ground, smashed to pieces, the jam she had spent last night making staining the gravel.

She was speechless, hurt and confused at some people’s ability to be so venomous and mean.

She saw Cole holding as many jars as he could in his arms, sighing when he saw her, “I tried to stop them. I’m so sorry.”

She felt her chest tighten as her eyes welled up.

“Don’t let them see you cry,” Sarah whispered in her ear as she could see tears gathering in her lash line.

“I would never,” she replied strongly, setting the box in her arms down on the counter of her booth with a clenched jaw.

“Who did this?” She asked, her voice loud and powerful.

She got no answer so she decided to provoke whoever had done this into coming forward, “so what you’re manly enough to smash down jam jars, but not so much when it comes to owning up to it?”

“We all did it!” The man from the clothing stall shouted.

“Yeah, we don’t want you here! Women weren’t made to work!” The man from the key cutting stand continued.

“And who decided that exactly?” She yelled back to them, hands on her waist rebelliously.

“It’s just how the world works, sweetheart. Work just isn’t for women,” the man from the clothing stall replied with a challenging smile as he gestured to the broken glass by her feet.

“Oh, it isn’t? That’s weird! Because last time I checked, women worked their butts off all day long cleaning, cooking, and taking care of children at houses that aren’t even their own just to go back home at the end of the day and do it all over again for free while you sat on your lazy asses!”

Everyone stood there stunned, her response crushing them into silence. None of them could remember the last time a woman had dared use such a tone with them, let alone use curse words in her speech.

“But it’s fine when women don’t get to take the money for their work, right? Women can work as long as you receive their pay money each month, no? They’re allowed to work as long as their money isn’t their own and their dignity is kept under your shoes, aren’t they?!” She lashed out, surprising herself, Sarah, everyone around and a very impressed Bucky, who was standing at the end of the market as she let her voice get loud, talking back to men.

He just thought he would stop by, unable to keep his worry at bay. And when he heard the men’s voices get loud in her face, he thought he would intervene; defend her, but his little human didn’t seem like she needed any defending. Not one bit.

She was putting those assholes in their places all by herself.

“Lower your voice, woman! Or have you been around that savage brute of yours too much that you’ve forgotten how to properly speak?”

“Hey!” Bucky barked, stomping over to the man who had dared disrespect him and his wife, his fists already balling.

“Oh you’re gonna come for my orc now?!” Her shout stopped Bucky before he could punch the man’s nose off, “where were you again when my orc was fighting for this kingdom? Where were you when he took it upon himself to keep everyone here safe? Oh, wait, right! Sitting on your lazy ass!”

“How dare you talk to us like that? You think you get to be this audacious because you let a half-orc bed you?!”

“Watch your tongue when you’re talking to my wife,” Bucky snarled in the man’s face before she gently held him back.

“At least he knows how to take care of a woman!” She said proudly, “my orc is more of a husband to me than any of you pathetic wimps could ever be to your women!”

Bucky couldn’t help the warm smile replacing his scowl at her words. He couldn’t believe she was defending him like that, saying such words about him, in the middle of the market.

“He treats me like a queen. He has never laid a hand on me and when he makes me scream, he makes me scream for all the right reasons.” She growled, looking the rude man right in the eye as she stressed every word in the end of her sentence.

The man swallowed hard, her words clearly hitting him where it hurt.

She smiled victoriously, “now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a jam stand to run and if any of you as much as thinks of pulling anything like this again, my husband here will have the rest of the kingdom hear your screams for a change.” She warned fearlessly, her gaze running over each and every seller in the market.

“For all the right reasons.” Bucky promised, harshly squeezing the man’s shoulder in his flesh fist.

She giggled, nodding with a wide grin before walking to the truck to get the sweep she had packed beforehand.

“Now I know why you insisted on bringing that with you!” Sarah laughed in amazement.

She laughed with her best friend as they both walked back to her stand where a very proud Bucky was still standing guard.

It was sad that she had expected such actions; that she expected that someone was going to try and destroy her work, but she was still glad they did it early enough for her to set them straight. She now had a place in that market, and she wasn’t leaving any time soon.

Once she reached the booth, Bucky took the broom out of her hand and threw it to Sarah, settling his hands on her waist.

“Hi,” she smiled, finally able to properly greet her husband, slipping a loose strand of hair behind his pointed ear.

“Hi,” Bucky replied fondly, leaning her back in a tender dip, making her laugh before he claimed her lips in a passionate, lingering kiss in front of everyone watching.

They had lost themselves in the kiss so much that when they finally pulled away, Sarah had finished sweeping away the glass, Cole helping her get rid of the shards so that they wouldn’t hurt anyone.

Bucky grunted when he noticed Cole standing there, the man shivering under the orc’s intense gaze.

She squeezed Bucky’s hand in hers before giving Cole a grateful smile, “thank you for everything you’ve done, Cole. We appreciate it.”

“No need to thank me,” Cole blushed, “it wasn’t right what they did.”

Bucky snarled, teeth and fists clenched as he silently told the man to back off.

“I’ll— I’ll be by the flowers if you guys need me,” Cole said hastily, practically running out of Bucky’s face, the orc’s gaze following him until he was gone.

“Bucky,” she said, shaking his hand in hers, “he was just helping!”

“We don’t need his help,” he growled, still angry that another man was able to offer his wife help before him.

“I don’t and will never need anyone but you,” she told him, getting on her tiptoes to peck the orc’s frowny lips.

“Promise me not to talk to him again,” Bucky grumbled like a kid on her lips, refusing to let her kiss him.

She shook her head with a smile, “I promise.”

“No, say the whole thing.”

She laughed aloud, hiding her face in his chest, “I promise not to talk to Cole again. Happy?”

“Very.” Bucky finally smiled again, kissing her properly.

~

The next few days were very busy for both of them. She was trying to build herself a good name in the market and Bucky had this huge bulk order of chairs and desks for the new school. It didn’t help that Sarah was helping her with her jam stand because that meant that Sam and Bucky had to get everything done on their own.

She and Bucky barely saw each other all week, meeting only on the bed to exhaustedly fall asleep in each other’s arms at nights. They couldn’t even have breakfasts together because Bucky would be up and out way earlier than her.

Which meant he never saw her during her morning sickness.

And as much as she craved Bucky’s care, she was still happy in a way that he wasn’t here for the daily puke because that meant she could surprise him with the news she so bad hoped to be true.

She had told Sarah when it happened for the third day in a row, unable to keep her happiness or nervousness to herself.

She was probably pregnant, with Bucky’s baby. All the signs were there and she couldn’t be more contented.

They didn’t tell anyone, but today during lunch time, Sarah was accompanying her on her visit to the midwife just to make sure before she went ahead and broke the news to Bucky.

And when the midwife had confirmed hers and Sarah’s suspicions, the whole world couldn’t contain her happiness if it tried.

She was carrying Bucky’s baby inside of her. She was making a family with the orc of her dreams!

She was too excited that she wanted to just run to the shop and tell Bucky right away, but no, this had to be special. As special as the news itself.

And that was how she found Sarah and herself walking towards Cole’s flower stand.

“You’ll ask for them.”

“Why me? I’m not the pregnant one!” Sarah argued, stopping.

“Please, Sarah, you know I promised Bucky,” she whined, giving her friend the best puppy eyes she could pull.

“I’m sure Bucky didn’t mean that literally! He just didn’t want you flirting with the man.”

“Oh believe me, he meant it literally.”

“Still no.”

“Please, Aunt Sarah,” she begged, rubbing her flat belly.

“Ugh fine, but only for the sweet orcling inside of you!”

She giggled, giving Sarah a hug before they continued walking to the flower stand, “thank you, Aunt Sarah.”

“Good afternoon, Cole,” Sarah started, “we’re gonna need one of you freshest—”

“Mom!” A smaller voice called out, making Sarah turn around at once.

“AJ! What are you doing here, boy? Where’s your brother?” Sarah asked worriedly.

“He fell down— we were just playing soccer—” AJ stuttered, scared of his mom’s reaction.

“Where is your brother?”

“He’s at the infirmary. The doctor asked for you…” AJ replied faintly, his head down in shame.

“Oh my— I’m so sorry. I need to go.” Sarah told her as she ran with AJ out of the market.

“It’s okay, go. I’ll come with Bucky later to see how he’s doing,” she replied with a worried nod.

“So,” Cole broke the silence and only then did she realize that she has been standing there by his booth watching Sarah and AJ leave for at least 30 seconds.

“Oh— well…” She fumbled with her hands, not sure if she should talk to him.

She knew she promised Bucky, but this was kind of for Bucky too, and neither she nor Cole were flirting, so what was the harm?

“I need your freshest forget-me-not, please.” She gave the man her order with a polite smile.

“You got it.” Cole nodded before kneeling down to fetch her the prettiest, most alive forget-me-not plant she has ever seen, “how about this gal here?”

“She’s perfect!” She smiled, almost jumping in place because she could see Bucky’s face when she gave him the flower with the news she had.

She was too busy paying for her plant to notice Bucky watching her from a distance or notice him leaving at the sight of her smiling while talking to the one man he made her promise not to talk to.

~

“You came back early!” Sam commented upon seeing his friend reenter the shop less than 15 minutes after he had left.

“Yeah, couldn’t find her. Probably went to lunch out with Sarah,” Bucky lied, setting his packed food down before picking up his axe.

“We don’t need any more wood—”

“I don’t care.” Bucky stormed off to the lumberyard, ready to take his feelings out on the dead trees.

“Those chairs aren’t gonna make themselves ya know! I’m not a machine!” Sam yelled after him but it all fell on deaf ears.

Bucky was angry.

He just wanted to have a sweet lunch with his wife, but instead he was welcomed by a scene from his worst nightmare.

Did she do that all the time? How many times has she broken her promise to him? Was it because he was busy those past few days? He thought she was busy too; he didn’t know it could be affecting her that much…

But no. She wouldn’t do that. She promised him and Bucky trusted and trusts her.

Bucky shook his head as he stopped in his tracks, turning around as he flipped his axe in the air. He trusted his wife.

He wasn’t going to be that husband because they were not that couple.

~

When Bucky had walked back to the shop, she was there, waiting for him with her heart pounding in her throat.

He wanted to take the frown off his face, but he couldn’t do it fast enough.

“Where’s Sam?” He wondered, trying to hide his feelings.

“He had to go to Sarah and the boys. Cass got hurt while playing.” She explained in a hurry, the news she actually came for pressing on her.

“Bucky, I need to talk to you,” she said before she could change her mind, nervousness etched all over her soft features.

Bucky’s heart sank. Was she leaving him?

“I wanted to wait until we got home, but I couldn’t wait!” She smiled, eyes lighting up as she spoke.

Okay, maybe she wasn’t leaving him. She wouldn’t be this joyful about leaving him, would she?

“Is everything okay, sweet thing?” Bucky asked, becoming nervous himself.

She took his hand and led him to his chair before making herself comfortable on his lap with a bag in her own.

Yeah, she wasn’t leaving him.

“I wanna confess something first.”

“I’m listening,” Bucky said, his voice strained because he could guess where this was going.

“I broke my promise to you today, but only today, I swear. And I’m sorry,” she held his hand in one of hers, eyes begging him not to be upset with her, “I had to speak to Cole.”

“Really? You had to? Why did you possibly have to speak to Cole?” Bucky snapped, unable to control his anger.

“I understand why you’re upset and I’m so sorry.” She squeezed his hand to her heart, “I asked Sarah to do it for me, but AJ came and got her because Cass got hurt and so I had to ask Cole for this.” She brought out the potted forget-me-not, “all on my own”.

“If you wanted blue flowers you could have asked me and I would have planted millions for you,” Bucky mumbled, shaking his head.

He was happy that they had a healthy relationship where she felt safe enough to come and tell him about this, but he wasn’t happy with what she was telling him.

He could be a farmer!

“That would’ve been too late and too early at the same time.” She shrugged with a small grin.

“Little human, you’re not making much sense right now.”

“Forget-me-nots take from a month and a half to two months to grow. It would’ve been too late for me to tell you the news I got them to tell you and too early for—”

She got up and set the plant on Bucky’s desk before resituating herself on his lap with her dress up so that she was straddling him.

“It would’ve been too early for the baby to come.”

“What? What baby?” Bucky asked dumbly, his brain short circuiting at the news.

“I’m pregnant, my love,” she whispered, her eyes tearing up.

“You’re— you’re pregnant?”

She nodded, tears rolling down her soft cheeks, “I’m pregnant.”

“With my baby.” Bucky pointed to himself, making her chuckle.

“With your baby.”

Without introductions, Bucky pressed his lips to her in a kiss so passionate that it left her dizzy.

“Our baby,” Bucky whispered on her lips, cupping her cheek as he put his forehead to hers, letting his tears run.

Bucky’s flesh hand moved to caress her belly, “you have given me everything, sweet thing. Everything.”

“I love you, Bucky.” She wiped her orc’s tears before wrapping her arms around him, burrowing her face in his neck, breathing in his calming scent.

“I love you even more, little human.”

“We’re gonna have an actual little human soon and the name won’t be exclusively mine anymore,” she joked, chuckling on his warm skin.

“You will always be my little human,” Bucky told her seriously, bringing her gaze back to his, “we’re just gonna have a littler human.”

She laughed aloud as Bucky wiped away her tears.

“We’re gonna be so happy, aren’t we?” She asked with a big smile, her heart full.

“Yes, we are.” Bucky promised, sealing it with another kiss.

“You’re the best thing that has ever happened to me,” she told Bucky the second they broke the kiss, making him smile like an idiot.

“Ditto.”

“Oh my gods, you’re so human!”

Bucky laughed with her before asking “forget-me-nots?”

“Yeah, I didn’t want you to forget about me between the hills of chairs and desks and they could also symbolize a sense of permanence, commitment, and familial bond. It was in one of the books you got me when we first got married.” She pretended to flip her hair away as she spoke confidently.

Bucky smiled, her words reassuring his heart more than she could ever know. She didn’t say when you first took me or when they first sent me, she said when ‘we first got married’.

She had fully, lovingly accepted Bucky and this marriage and it was time for Bucky to accept it all himself, too. It was time for him to accept that he was loved and chosen and cared about by this woman in his lap.

“I could never forget about you, sweet thing.” Bucky kissed her forehead, silently thanking her for way more than just a potted plant.

“I got you something else.” She rummaged through the bag, bringing out an amethyst male ring.

“What’s that one for?” Bucky asked, looking at her fondly.

“That’s for protection, so you wouldn’t hurt yourself while working again,” she told him with a smile as she slipped the ring on his flesh finger.

Bucky looked at her, all the love in the world held in his stare, “thank you, little human.”

He kissed the ring on his finger and after it her lips.

She loved Bucky and that was the only truth he needed to believe in.

Bucky loved her and that was the only fact that mattered to him.

She and Bucky were expecting their first baby and that was the only reality any of them wanted to live.

~

Tag list:

@harrysthiccthighss @tinystudentfirepurse @lavendercitizen @tumblin-theworldaway @pretty-pop-princess-hs @lilymurphy03 @idontwannagomrstarkk @glxwingrxse @littlelioncub43 @mathletemadison @canned-rootbear @pandaxnienke @loveisallyouneed1125 @floral-recs @littlemoonkiller @hallecarey1 @vespasianphantom @vicmc624 @winters1917 @ionlyeverwantedtobeyourequal @blkmystery @millercontracting @trappedwriter @am-3-thyst @obsessedwithquinn @sydnielauryn @alittlerayof-pitchblack @olipiaa @peterparkersgirl-blog @buckybarnessweetheart @thealyrs @colorfulbluebirdpainter @stuckysgirl27 @ihavetwoholesforareason @princess-bee0 @pastel-noah168 @steeph-aniie @buckitostan @onthr-dream @sapphirebarnes @123iloveyou456 @ciaqui @lindasweetie @justherefortheficandsmut @xxdiaqiaoxx @morgthemagpie @wintrsoldrluvr @goldylions @serendipitouslife90 @sebastians-love @leelee1234love @tiedyedghoulette @saint-marvel @helenaellie @onceithough @raynelbabe @a-very-fictional-girl @justabeluga

[snugglebug-mj-blog]

Can't find the perfect (my original idea)

Just imagine finding a secret room underneath the great 7 statues, Like one walking behind one because you saw something and you see a button and pushing it only for it to open a hatch on the back of the statue. You slowly climb down to find a small almost empty room.

“This would be perfect for a ‘me cave’. Just need to add some stuff and not tell anyone about it. A place for me to get away from everyone to just be by myself to think, to cry, or to simply breathe ” Y/n thought to herself as she looked around before nodding.

After decorating the room

Y/n looked around and nodded to herself. It wasn't much but it was hers.

It was after classes on a friday and y/n was tired and had a horrible headache so she went to her secret room and fell asleep. This week was more hectic than normal, grim being grim, Crowley being a huge jerk making y/n do his paperwork and refusing to find her away home, classes, bullies. With the lack of sleep y/n has had she was really tired but happy that next week was a break. Y/n had just planned to sleep for a few hours but instead she slept the weekend away.  {I've done this before i fell asleep on friday and didn't wake up until sunday night.} When she woke up loud thunder, and people shouting could be heard. Y/n quickly climbed out of her secret room only to find the sky dark, with green lightning shooting across the sky, as y/n started walking towards the school a Scarabia student ran up to her “You’re ok! Good! Come!” he said as he gently grabbed her wrist before they both started running through the school. Students and staff sighed in relief as they saw y/n. Soon the two got to the meeting room, the Scarabia threw open the door “I FOUND HER! SHE’S HERE!” The student yelled as he pulled y/n into the room y/n saw all of her friends and teachers. Before y/n could say anything Crewel had her in a tight hug, y/n could hear his heart racing before pulling her away from him “WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?!” Everyone yelled as they circled her “No one has seen you since friday!” Crewel said as he checked her for injuries  y/n blinked in confusion “I’m sorry. I was under a lot of stress because Crowley gave me all his paperwork to do plus school assignments and chasing after grim i guess i passed out somewhere” y/n rambled out quickly as tears filled her eyes. “I didn’t mean to, i’ll make sure i don’t do that again” y/n said as bowed “you can’t control it if you pass out due to lack of sleep but next time at least tell someone how you are feeling” silver said as he rubbed her back. Everyone was happy to see she was ok but right now they wanted to make sure she ate properly, and made sure she wasn’t hurt anywhere. 

All dorm leaders were highly ticked off as was crewel they dealt with crowley their way, Now crowley won’t even ask y/n for anything, he pays her more, and fixes up the ramshack dorm were y/n now has air and heat. Everyone takes turns helping y/n if she needs it.

[prettypinkporkchop]

Random Paul type deal

Warnings: sexual a bit not much, language, I believe that's it

Fem reader!

Your feet crunch down on the leaves. The forest floor is making you calm down. Your boyfriend's voice is ringing through your ears.

"I'll never love you like I used to. It's your fault I've cheated."

You moving in with Tyler was a big mistake. All you have done was love him. You changed your whole life for him! You quit your old job to move all the way to Forks with him. Now, you work a job you don't even like. You still aren't so sure why he has been like this since the move.

The green is surrounding you. It's beautiful, and you begin to consider camping out here. You shake your head at the thought. A motel seems safer. You're not sure who comes out here at night. You begin to leave the forest, retracing your steps.

Something big falls behind you, making you turn. It's a woman. She has dark skin and piercing red eyes. Your heart is pounding. She laughs as a devilish grin appears. You are frozen in fear. Before you can even blink, she's in front of your face. You feel the wind hit you from her impossibly fast movement. Her beauty is there, but you can't help but focus on the red eyes that are screaming at you, telling you to run.

Her cold fingers reach to touch your face. "Wrong time to wander off." She mumbles. All of a sudden, she jumps back and looks to her left. She snarls and runs away. Now, you're confused and even more scared. Something scarier than her is chasing her.

Two gigantic wolves hit your view. Black and brown fur and load roaring fill up your senses. You turn your feet and run. As your feet move, you see a dark silver coated wolf standing a few feet away.

You stop dead in your tracks, praying this beast doesn't kill you. The wolf steps closer to you, very slowly. You can't run. This thing is way faster than you. Your heart is about to drop dead from fear. You see its eyes, and it stops moving. He whimpers and then runs away.

You finally get to your car and jump in. You start crying and cover your face. Your phone in the passenger seat starts blowing up. You know it's Tyler. This makes you cry even harder. You hear a tap at your window. You scream and look up. You're faced with a young man. He's tan, shirtless, and has a tattoo on his arm. He seems concerned. You shake your head and roll down the window. "Can I help you?" You ask and wipe your eyes. "I think you need help, ma'am. I can help you. What's wrong?" He asks. "Everything." You sigh. "Hey, move over. Let me drive you back home." He says. "I don't know you." You reply dryly. "No, you don't. I don't know you either. But, you're upset, and I'm concerned. You're in the middle of La Push. I've never seen you around." He puts his hands above your window and leans on it, looking down at you. "You're not gonna kill me, are you?" You ask. "Nope. Not capable of it." He seems honest to you. "You're buff. I believe you can snap me in half." You giggle. He laughs and then opens your door. "No ma'am. I won't." He helps you out. You notice how tall he is. You look up at him. Oh, he's gorgeous. His eyes won't leave yours. You feel safe. You feel a connection. "What's your name?" He asks. You see his eyes moving around your face. "Y/n." You whisper. You observe his face, too. You can't help but be starstruck. He notices and then smiles, stepping back a bit. "Paul. Paul Lahote." He walks over and opens the passenger door. You get inside, and he gets in the drivers side. "Tell me what's going on?" He asks. You groan and lean your head back. "Where do I even begin?" Your phone starts ringing. You grab your phone and pick it up. "What?"

"Where are you?"

"Mmm, not your business. I'm packing my stuff." You hang up. Paul leans back in the seat and grips the steering wheel. "I see." He sighs. "Tyler. I moved in with him. Big mistake." You look out the window. "Would you believe me if I told you I saw something?" You ask quietly. "Yes." He replies. You face him again, his eyes right on you. "I saw a girl with red eyes and then huge wolves. I don't know. I think I'm going crazy." You laugh and run your hand through your hair. He shakes his head. "No, you're not crazy. I believe you. Where do you need to go?" He asks, reversing your car. "Take me to my place. I'm thankful you're with me. Be my gaurd dog?" You look at him. He smirks and keeps his eyes on the road. "Whatever you need."

After guiding him along, you sit in the bedroom, gathering all of your clothes. Paul came in with you, just in case. Tyler ended up not even being home. Paul helped you grab everything you need. You set the house key down on the table and lock the door behind you.

Paul starts driving, and the silence is killing you. "Do you work, y/n?" He breaks the quiet. "Yes. At the moment, I'm working at a diner and the library. I make just enough to pay my phone bill and the car." He nods his head. "Where do you want to go tonight?" He asks. "A motel." You sigh. "Okay, I'll pay." He says. You look at him like he's crazy. "Bruh! No!" You squeal. He laughs loudly and then stops at a red light. "You're going to see what it's like to be taken care of." His words made you jump in your seat and turn to him. "We just met! What are you talking about?" You laugh. "Hey, you have nobody and moved to Forks. You're on your own. I have friends and family. Trust me. You won't be alone anymore."

2 weeks later:

You've been super close with Paul and have been hanging around his family. Well, friends, but they're his family. Embry loves when you come along with Paul because you're the only person who will play video games with him. Quil does, but Quil has been busy lately.

Paul let you move in with him. You feel guilty and try so hard to give him money for it. He refuses to take anything from you. You are trying to find a place around him to live, but Paul never seems to want to talk about houses. Paul has a very small and cute house. He's very clean, which is a plus! He only has one bedroom, so at first you took his bed. You felt horrible for taking his bed, so you bought a blowup mattress for yourself. Of course, Paul made you stay on the bed and him take the mattress on the floor.

Your alarm wakes you up. You groan and stand up. You took today off because Paul says you need a break. You go pee and then sit on the bed. You check your phone.

Paul: good morning. I'll be home earlier than usual.

Emily: Hey, sweet girl.

The curiosity is building in your stomach. What do Paul and his friends do to make money? How's he able to help you?

You: Hey paul

Paul: Hey y/n

You: what do you even do all day?

Paul: Mechanic work.

Veey vague, lol. You cuddle into the blanket and fall asleep.

You wake up and check the time. It's 4:00 p.m. you get out of bed and decide to go over to Emily's.

"I'm so glad you're a part of the family now." She smiles as she soaks up the sun on the towel in her front yard. "I'm happy to be here. It's just strange how Paul is so willing to do all of this for me." You lean your head back. "Isn't it obvious?" She giggles. "It is, but I still don't get it." You reply. "You will." Her answer made you stop and think. You're too scared to push more. Embry, Quil, and Sam walk up to the house. "Hey, y/n!" Embry sits next to you. "Hey, guys! I'm guessing Paul will be home soon. I'm gonna cook dinner for us both." You stand up. "Housewife already?!" Quil playfully shoves you. "Oh stop! It's the least I can do for all he's done for me." You reply.

The front door opens as you put your dishes in the dishwasher. "Hey! How was it today?" You ask him. He takes off his shoes, and you see how sweaty he is. "It was good! I hope you got the rest you needed." He walks over to you. "That smells so good. I'm gonna shower and then eat." He smiles at you before walking away. You can't help but blush. Oh geez. This guy.

You start cleaning up when you accidentally cut your hand with a steak knife. "Ow! Shit!" You yell. Blood immediately starts dripping on the floor. Paul comes running out without a shirt and just his shorts. He's quickly at your side. "Woah! What happened?" He grabs your bleeding hand. He guides you over the sink with a hand on your lower back. He turns on the water and puts your hand under. "It burns." You groan. "I know, babe. Just hold on." He stands behind you, holding your hand under the water. You caught on to what he said but didn't want to point it out. He grabs peroxide out of the cabinet above you and pours it on your wound. He turns off the water and keeps his hands on you.

Later that night, you two are laying in your beds, about to sleep. Your hand is wrapped up. "Paul?" You ask. "Hmm?" You get nervous. "You called me babe earlier." You said blankly. He sighs and then turns on the lamp. You look at him in confusion. "I don't want you to go." He gets out of the mattress and sits on the bed. "What do you mean?" You ask. So quickly, he's hovering over you. His face is inches away. You could scream in fangirl. Your face turns red. You can't do this anymore. You grab the back of his neck and pull his head down. His lips meet yours. Automatically, your world begins to shift. You can feel flowers blooming inside of you. The magic is happening. His lips are perfectly on yours. His tongue makes its way in. You push the blankets off of you, and he rests his body on yours. You wrap your legs around his waist, and his hands grab your wrists, pinning you down.

He's not in bed by morning. You sit up and smile. That was the best night ever. You go to the bathroom and look in the mirror. Bruises on your inner arm, your thighs, and a hickey under your ear. You run and check your phone.

Paul: good morning babe.

You check the time and notice you're late for your shift at the library! Shit! You call them up so quickly. "Y/n, you okay?" Your boss asks you. He's the sweetest old man ever. He's super understanding. It's just you, him, and your coworker Angela. "Yes, sir. I'm okay! I'm so sorry for being late. I'm coming in." You urge. "You're okay! Look, I needed an extra day of work anyways, sweetie. You go ahead and relax. You can come back tomorrow. I know two jobs is hard." He sighs. You groan and sit on the bed. "You won't be penalized, y/n. You're okay. Just relax today." He reassures. "Thank you, Mr. Miller."

You call Paul to let him know you'll be home all day today as well. He picks up. "Hey. You okay?" He asks. "Yeah, I'm just calling to let you know I'll be home today, too."

Later that night, you two are sitting on the couch, watching TV. "Paul, can we talk?" You ask. He mutes the TV and turns to you. "What's up?" He smiles. "What are we?" You ask. "What do you want to be?" His face gets a bit closer to yours. "I want to be more than friends." You blurt it out. "There you go. You're mine." He grabs your hand. "But, I do want to talk to you about something." He adds. "Mhm?" He bites his lip, trying to conjure up the words. "I don't want you working so much. I want you to stay here with me. I know it's a lot and I know it's fast but there's a lot to be explained." He closes his eyes and sighs. "Paul, you've done so much for me. More than I could ever ask. Honestly, since I met you, I've been head over heels." You giggle. He grabs your waist and pulls you on his lap, attacking you with kisses. He stops as well as your giggling, and he looks at you. "I have to tell you something very serious." He says. You nod your head and watch his eyes. "You remember the wolves?" He looks so nervous. You pull back a bit and look over him. "What about them?" You ask in a panic. "That was Sam, Jacob, and I was the one who stood there in front of you." He explained. You never went into detail about the wolf in front of you or really what happened exactly. So the fact that he knew that, sent chills down your spine. "How?" You ask. "That red eyed woman is a vampire. My tribe descends from wolves. When a new vampire comes into town, one of us shifts." You get off of his lap and stand above him. "Why are you just now telling me this?" You ask in shock. "Because there's this thing wolves do." You stare at him, waiting for more. "Imprinting. The universe gives us a soulmate. I imprinted on you that day. You are my soulmate. If you don't want this bond, please tell me. We can just be friends if you want." He stands up in front of you and tries to hold you steady as you're beginning to panic. "Hey, sweetie. It's okay. Breathe. What can I do?" He's whispering.

2 weeks later:

Your eyes wander across your boyfriend's body. He looks down at you and grabs your waist. "I can't get over how such a hot man imprinted on me. I get to see this after every patrol." You lean up and kiss him. He holds onto you and then pulls you down on top of him on the bed. You straddle his waist, feeling him in between you. "I love you, y/n." He says on your lips. "I love you, more Paul." You say back and pull off your shirt.

"Uhm, guys, small house. Pack of wolves in here! Please." You hear Jared call out. Oh yeah, you were so engrossed in your honey. You forgot the wolves were sleeping over because of some vampire duty. You pull away from him and giggle. "Damn it. I wanted to be on top this go around." You tease. He groans and then kisses you again. "Don't let them stop you." You slap his chest softly causing him to laugh. "That's gross, Lahote."

[youareunbearable]

Its late and im tired so please excuse if this doesn't make sense but lately, I've been thinking about Angry Aredhel must have been

Like realistically, when has this woman made a single decision about her future for herself, and in the few times when she did, when did it not end in tragedy

She must have been so angry, so frustrated and wrathful at her lot in life. She was meant for other things, greater thing! She was a disciple of Orome, the Maiden in White, one of the best hunters in his group along with her cousin.

Yet here she is, caged and trapped like a pretty little canary in a wire house. Stolen from her purpose because of her eldest brother's blind loyalty, her father's stubborn pride, her second oldest brother's blinding grief, and her baby brother's terminal bravery. She's across an ocean, escaped one cage for another by her tormentor and abuser posing as a husband.

The bastard won't even name their child.

She must have be so angry, stuck in that endless darkness, the forest must be such a familiar landscape but so different, twisted and wrong like looking into a warped mirror.

Shes grieving outside her "home" one night, having managed to convince the trees to part their branches just enough that she can glimpse a star or two so she can bask in the starlight. Its been a year since the birth of her son, and nothing has changed. Eol won't look at the boy, and she can feel herself drifting. Without the ability to see the passage of time, without the Light of the Trees or with the Sun and Moon chasing each other across the sky, things are blending together and she feels adrift.

At least when they crossed they ice, they were able to watch the stars move across the endless dark.

The starlight warms her skin, as weak and distant as it is, so she basks. With her eyes closed and face tilted up she feels like a lizard in the mid day sun. Behind her, she hears a noise, a twig being deliberately stepped upon. Aredhel whips around, raising her glowing lichen lamp, wondering if its her husband or one of his servants come to take her back. She feels a little feral at the idea of being dragged away from the pitiful starlight.

A wolf, with a pelt as crisp and clean as the snow dusting Himring's mountain top, slinks into the soft glow. Its fur takes on an almost sickly colour in the green luminescence. The wolf settles at the edge of the light, resting on its haunches as it observes her.

Aredhel thinks she's beautiful, for it is a female wolf. Even in the weak lamplight the beast's silver eyes seem to glow on their own, piercing her very fea and enticing her to come forward, to come closer. There is a power within the she wolf, one Aredhel craves.

The white beast introduces herself as a member of Orome's hunt, and Aredhel believes it, for the she wolf looks like the perfect hunter. The wolf asks her what she, as a fellow hunter, is doing out so far away from her kin and cub.

Momentarily surprised by the ability to speak, for not even Huan can speak so freely, Aredhel responses. She shares her desire for light, her frustration with her "husband," and how she wants a different life for her son. She never wanted this, and she wishes she had the ability to take control of her own fate.

The wolf is sympathetic to her plights, and offers to help her free herself and her child.

"You do have the ability to change your own fate, young one. Asking for help is something no one else could have done for you."

So Aredhel leads the wolf back to Eol's house. They walk through the entry way, both hunters are silent as the dawn as they go. Aredhel heads towards the master bedroom, but hesitates at the door. She can see Eol on his side of their bed, snoring lightly as he does. She hesitates, seeing a vision of what will happen once he realizes she's gone. Fire, doom and death follows her, poison and a flash of fang would flicker in him before he strikes her down for disobedience, for stealing away the son he won't even name.

The wolf nudges her aside, ghosting past her into the room. Aredhel's throat closes up and she slinks away, heading towards Lomion's nursery. She leaves to go strap her sleeping infant son to her chest, then grabs some supplies from the kitchen in a bag. Not even hearing a mouse skittering in the walls, let alone her wolf companion, she steels her nerves to check the master bedroom one more time.

As she passes her bedroom, she can see through a crack in the door and her breath freezes. Standing over the now corpse of her husband, maw dripping red from the freshly torn out throat, the white wolf looms. Aredhel stares transfixed, she can almost taste the blood between her own teeth, feel the rush of the kill, ache of her gums as tendons and tissue would rub against them. The wolf turns to look at her, silver eyes wild, white fur stained with her kill. Aredhel feels the air return to her lungs, she feels lighter and free, a little giggle slips past her lips and the wolf peels back its lips and bares its dripping fangs in a smile.

Aredhel leaves the house, fleeing on foot and all the while she can hear the wolf following her, keeping pace and shadowing her in the darkness, and at some points, ahead of her, leading her out of the woods. Running like this, oh she hasn't done this in years!. The wind snapping at her hair, branches and leaves kissing her cheeks and arms, the rush of a completed hunt with another one ahead of her feels like her first real breath in a long time. It feels like days later, and seconds, heartbeats, when she can see the treeline, dawn's hazy reddish glow peaking through the trees.

Aredhel gives a joyful cry and runs faster. That laughter bubbling up inside of her finally bursts past her lips once she breaks the treeline. The sun on her skin is warm and bright and all she wants to do is laugh and cry and scream until her throat is raw and her tears run dry. But she has to keep moving, she has Lomion still with her, and she is too close to the woods to feel truly safe yet. She walks north, and east, not really knowing where she's heading but knowing that she'll cross into her cousins' land soon. As she walks, she soon realizes that she hasn't seen or heard from her she wolf in a while. Stopping, Aredhel turns to look back, but no where can she see that brilliant white coat, or any tracks that look like wolf paws. She squint, looking back at the distant treeline and sees nothing but shadow. She mourns for her companion, wishing she could have wished her well or at least thanked her for her help. She wonders if Orome set the wolf to free her, not wanting to see one of his hunters in chains.

Its about mid morning when she comes across some of her cousins men, and they're horrified. They ask if she's ok, of she's hurt, they take her to a nearby stream even though she insists she's fine, that she wants to see her cousins.

When she sees her reflection she's scared for a moment. All she can see it blood, dried and crusted down her throat, staining her lips and chin. There is red all along the collar of her white dress, her sleeves, but her hands are clean, and so is her son still asleep strapped across her chest. She looks into her reflection, not yet comprehending. Silver eyes that seem so familiar stare back above the red, above the proof of her freedom.

She bares her bloody teeth in smile.

[atinystraynstay]

Steal The Show - Jung Hoseok

Synopsis: He was amazed by her. He knew how hard she'd worked for this moment, so being able to see her do her thing made him feel complete. She outshined the sun.

There was just one thing left he had to do.

Pairing: idol! Jung Hoseok x idol! fem reader

Genre: fluff, tiny bit of angst, friends to lovers

Word Count: 2.8k

——————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————

"J-hope! J-hope! J-hope!" The sound of cheers made Hoseok's heart shake with excitement. If there's any place he loved the most, it was being on stage.

Hoseok was wearing a pair of baggy jeans, an olive green tee-shirt, a black hoodie, and a black and white bomber jacket. Tonight, he was performing on the street (with J. Cole) for the first time. He was excited to showcase this stage for not just for Army, but for everyone. Especially for you.

You initially met Hoseok when you both were at an all-intensive dance class in New York City. He was shooting a music video, and you were attending university for dance. He was impressed with your dancing abilities, stepping back to watch just you when it wasn't his turn to dance. You moved as if you were made out of water, very fluid yet so in control of your body. He was amazed.

At the end of the lesson, Hoseok asked if you wanted to grab lunch. To be honest, you didn't really hear of BTS before meeting Hoseok. You figured he was your average guy from Queens who loved to dance. However, watching the dance practice videos he showed you at the cafe next door, you were amazed.

You didn't think the K-pop industry was for you though. You originally were trying to make it on Broadway, that's why you decided to attend school in the city. You wanted to network and make connections, wanted to go to auditions when you had free time. The politics involved in the Western music industry turned you off completely.

When JYP announced they were doing auditions across America, you decided to take the jump. It also helped that Hoseok pushed you to just try out.

"I'm not saying I want you to become an idol. I'm not saying I want you to move here to Korea. Even though I'd love living in the same part of the world as you," he said over FaceTime, laughing. "But it doesn't hurt to audition! Worse case, the audition is good experience for the next one you do."

He was right there. You just needed to put yourself out there. You've only done a few casting calls for ensembles, but you wanted a challenge. You wanted to attempt to go for a lead. And to an extent, auditioning for a music company was a challenge. It was out of your wheelhouse, but Hoseok reassured you that the k-pop industry drew people from all over the world from all sorts of backgrounds.

And somehow, you made it past the first audition. You sang "Fast Car" to showcase your singing abilities, even though you come from a dancing background. You were then asked to freestyle a dance, which honestly was the easiest part of the audition. It probably was easy considering you and Hoseok often freestyled with each other over FaceTime when you were in your own respective dance studios.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Hoseok?"

He looked over his shoulder, a smile immediately on his face. He knew that voice anywhere.

"Y/n." You were wearing a light blue dress. There was a cutout in the shape of a heart surrounded by silver rhinestones. hugged around your thighs, showing off the white fishnet stocks. You wore a matching pair of white block-heeled boots that stopped short of reaching your knee. Your hair was down in curls, framing your face. You looked divine.

Before he knew it, you walked right up to him and hugged him tightly. He immediately wrapped his arms around you, holding you close to him. He got a smell of your perfume, something that he's grown very fondly over. It smelled like cherries and vanilla. A scent he favored resonated with you.

"I've been looking for you all over," you giggled. His heart swelled at the thought of you searching for him.

"Well know you've found me," he winked. "You ready to go kill it out there?" "And know that you're watching me? Of course."

Hoseok wasn't sure what the line-up was. He only knew that he was geared towards the end of the showcase. He always loved watching what other artists and groups came up with, sometimes making their usual performances extra special. Hoseok also liked being the one to watch smaller acts, giving them a source of encouragement as they were just at the start of their careers.

He also strategically placed himself here, right at the side of the stage, so he could watch you. Not only did he want to watch you perform, but he wanted to be the first and last person you saw before and after being on stage. He wanted to cement himself as your biggest supporter, in more ways than one. "Y/n, five minutes. Let's get you into position," one of the backstage crew announced.

That's how it always goes when it comes to performances like this. It was hectic all over. People were running around, making sure the appropriate stages were in place and artists were ready to go. It was one after the other, no real break until the last performance.

You looked up at him, a slight frown tugging onto your lips. You were hoping to have more time to catch up with Hoseok before taking to the stage.

"Promise to be here when I get back?" "Angel, I'm not going anywhere."

This time, he kissed you on your cheek before moving his lips to your ear. He could feel the eyes on him, not wanting to tell him to hurry up but also getting a bit antsy. Hoseok was a gentleman, so he could be quick.

"I'm always going to be here. Go rock that stage so you can return back to me."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I feel so much lighter like a feather with you out my life With you out my life

The crowd screamed as you were twirled around the stage. If anyone was born to be on stage, it was you. You were smiling wide during the instrumental part of your song, your backup singers the harmonies.

You were done by the stage extender, interacting with your fans. Truth be told, you were surprised people were that responsive to you. You felt like you were at the start of your career, still trying to build a name for yourself. Of course, you took nothing for granted.

Hoseok wasn't surprised. He has seen your rise to fame happen both in person and online. People were captivated by you, but he wanted to make sure you knew he was front of the line.

Right now, you were performing a song you had written to your ex-boyfriend. Hoseok remembered that night so vividly. He had never seen anyone write a song that quickly besides Yoongi. You used all your anger to channel into this particular song. Your ex doubted that you could make it, he didn't see your potential.

But Hoseok did. He knew you were a shining star. You just needed the right support system to boost your confidence and help you pursue you dreams.

And you were blessed to have someone like Hoseok in your life. Not even someone, a man like Hoseok. He made it easy for you to forget your ex boyfriend. He was the one who reassured you, uplifted you, and showed you love. You weren't sure if there was a chance of you two getting together, but you were a wishful thinker.

it feels so good not carin' where you are tonight And it feels so good not pretending to like the wine you like

Your hips were swaying as you strutted back up to the main part of the stage. The crowd went wild for you as you ran your hands through your hair, letting it fall back down to your back.

Once you were center stage, you glanced over your shoulder. You grinned to see Hoseok still to the side of the stage, watching you. You winked at him before looking towards the crowd again.

I slam the door

You kicked up your foot as you were closing the door. You wore a smirk. Here goes nothing. I hit ignore

With your back towards Hoseok, you bent over slightly. The amount of times you ignored texts and calls from your ex were too high too count. You knew one thing for sure though. You would always pickup for Hoseok.

Hoseok's eyes widened as he watched you. That's new. Was that intended for him? Were you responding to what he said to you before you were whisked away to get on stage? He bit his lip gently, a smirk on his lips. He was proud of how far you've come, both in your personal life and professional career. But he couldn't help but feel his ego swore as he thought you were showing off for him.

Well played, y/n.

I'm saying, no, no, no, no more I got you blocked Excited to never talk

You were standing up straight again. You popped your hip slightly. The hand not holding your bedazzled microphone also resting on your hip. You wore a smirk.

I'm so sorry for your loss.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The stage lights went dark as you bowed to the crowd. There was a loud roar of cheers, fans begging you to stay. You blew a kiss though before you were escorted off stage. Your mind was in the clouds, overjoyed by the outcome of your performance. That couldn't have gone any better!

There was just one thing left to do to truly make this a night to remember. Someone handed you a water bottle as your chest rose and fell rapidly, your heart racing from the performance and adrenaline rush you were experiencing. You grabbed the water, but kept your eyes locked forward.

From the moment you left the stage, your eyes were locked on Hoseok. You didn't have to go searching for him. He stayed as he promised. He wore a wide smirk as he waited for you, members backstage of the production and your manager checking in with you. "Y/n, we can either stay to watch the rest of the show or head back to the hotel." "I'm staying."

Once you finally were away from the staircase leading to the stage, the crowd around you began to disperse slightly. You passed the water bottle in your hand to your manage before you took off running towards Hoseok.

You weren't thinking straight. All you knew was that you needed to get to him. It was as if something had possessed you because before you knew it, you were jumping into his arms. He caught you easily, the two of you in a fit of laughter. "That was amazing, y/n! You are amazing," he said, grinning. You grinned back at him. Your hands rested on his shoulder as he twirled you around a bit. Everyone around you figured you had a close friendship. A very close one, indeed. But after the exchanges between the two of you, that was going to take a step up. You were sure of it, but just not in the eyes of public.

"Come on, I think we got some talking to do, sweetheart. I got a little bit before going on stage."

Hoseok gently set you back down to your two feet, but had a hand securely on your lower back. People eyed the two of you as you passed by. Artists that you admired, friends, and others congratulated you on a successful stage. All you could do was smile and bow politely, both out of breath but also trying not to stop too long for a conversation. You weren't trying to be rude. You just had other priorities.

His thumb caressed your lower back. You didn't have to question where you were going. You always put all your trust into Hoseok. He has prove time and time again his loyalty and his sincerity towards you. He was a rare find in a world that tended to be more cruel than kind.

After a few moments, mainly with you focusing on the feeling of his touch, you found yourself out of his dressing room. He pushed it open, motioning for you walk through the threshold first.

"Always the gentleman, aren't you, Hobi?"

He chuckled and shrugged, watching as you walked in first. Once he made sure you were safely in the room, he closed the door behind him. He locked in, not wanting to get interrupted again like before.

This time, he let his heart take over rather than his mind. He came up behind you, wrapping his arms around you from behind. You giggled in surprised, letting out a soft gasp as he lifted you up with ease. Wow, he's gotten stronger since the last time you saw him.

Carefully, he had you sit on the counter of the makeup vanity set up. His makeup team from the company already had done the makeup they needed to do earlier. They opt for a more natural look, seeing as this song was personal for Hoseok. And much to your happiness, you got his bare face all to yourself.

Your legs were slightly parted, allowing Hoseok to slip in between them. Biting your lip gently, you gazed up into his eyes. You were trying to cipher what could be going on in his mind. You were getting all the right signals from him to confirm your assumptions, but you wanted to make sure you weren't jumping to conclusions. One of your hands gripped the edge of the counter, the other hand resting on his forearm.

"Y/n, I think I'm done playing games," he murmured. One of his hands rested by yours. Not exactly touching, but your want to feel his skin on yours burned within you. His other hand lifted up to brush the hair out of your face. He tucked a few strands of your hair behind your ear. His hand then gently rested on your cheek.

The confidence you had on stage melted away. You could feel your body warm up, seeing how close you were and how alone you truly now. The chaos outside was white noise. All your attention was on Hoseok without any interruptions. He smirked seeing the shy side of yourself starting to appear once again.

He loved witnessing all the sides of you. While yes, you two were prominent in each other's lives, he wanted to learn more about you.

"I'm not sure I know what you're talking about," you said softly.

He scoffed. "Really? You don't remember that little stunt you pulled on stage? Come on, darling, you trying to tell me something?" "But what about you, Hoseok? What was that you told me earlier?"

He hummed, nodding his head. "That's the games I'm talking about. Why don't we cut to the chase, huh? Stop torturing ourselves?"

This time, you nodded in agreement. You were onboard to full send, to take this friendship into uncharted territory for the two of you. Yes, it was scary to take this friendship into a level that most friends don't go. However, if Hoseok was willing, so were you.

Wanting to take back a bit of control of the situation, you slightly tilted your head. Your lips hovered right underneath his. His breathing seemed to hitch, which caused you to smirk.

Look who is now turning soft.

Truthfully, you made him weak and he thrived off being your weakness. It was as if subconsciously you two always knew you had feelings for each other. Yet, for the sake of the friendship, you oppressed any feelings you had. You were at the point now that you were boiling over and it was all seeping out. Everyone else saw how you two stared at each other with hearts in your eyes. You both were just catching up to speed.

"How do you propose we stop torturing ourselves, huh? Tell me, Hobi. What's been on your mind?" "You're the only thing ever on my mind, y/n," he murmured.

The way his voice dropped an octave made you want to whimper. You felt small with him towering over you. He knew the little things to do to make you weak in the knees.

"I'd just like it if you no longer live in my fantasies and were actually mine. That way I can make every thought I have into a legitimate plan with you." "Then make it happen."

Hoseok's eyebrow raised yet he was intrigued. His hands moved to your hips, pulling you slightly closer to him until you sat right at the edge of the counter. Your legs wrapped around his waist, keeping him close to your as well.

He began lean in, his lips grazing yours. You both sighed in contact. So close yet not quite there.

Before his lips could fully press against yours, there was a knock at the door. "J-hope, 5 minutes!" Dammit! He smirked as he pulled away while your frowned, disappointed to not get to kiss him quite yet. You raised an eyebrow, surprised to see him not more disappointed. "All good things come with time. Just had to get one more game in before winning you over. I'll see you after my set."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Note: I originally got inspired from listening to Steal the Show by Lauv. since seeing Elemental a few months ago. I also have been obsessed with Sophia Carpenter's performances of Feather while she's been the opening act for Taylor Swift's Eras Tour in South America so my mind got a little creative haha

Hope you enjoyed it!!

[snowblossomreads]

Day 23: Under the Tree

Pairing: Severus Snape x Fem!Reader

Summary: Severus comes home to his living room looking much different than he left it thanks to [Y/n].

Tag(s)/Warning(s): fluff!, decorating for loved one, mentions of childhood poverty, kissing, mostly just cuteness

Word Count: 1.3K

A/N: Ekkk I'm posting this kinda late after running aroundish so apologize for anything with wacky grammar or spelling haha! But enjoy this cute little fluff with Snape!

"What in Salazer's name-! [Y/n] what is all of this?"

When Severus had left early that morning to attend to some business, his sitting room was under decorated as it usually was all year round. That meant piles of books were littered here and there and on the shelves that lined the wall. His typewriter sat on a little table with manuscripts he had been working on for a while. And piled high next to it, were more books along with his chair that sat next to the fireplace.

Yet, when he had returned and stepped into the room he was startled when he was met with the sight of a Christmas wonderland. Nothing had technically been moved, but things had been added to the space. 

Take for instance, the strings of garland that hung on all the shelves and across the fireplace with little holly leaves attached to them. There were also four green and silver striped stockings on the mantle of the fireplace, all of them evenly spaced out from one another.

Also, how could he forget about the tree that was half as tall as the bookshelves? Decorated with little colourful lights that twinkled and would slowly change colours, it also had been wrapped in some gaudy tinsel along with tiny ornaments that hung from the ends of different branches. The tree was insanely bright and much more colourful than most things in the house, and under it were a few gifts wrapped neatly. Before he could look for any more changes in the room, [Y/n] appeared in the kitchen doorway with a bright smile and an apron on.

"Severus!" She beamed as she wiped her hands on her apron and made her way to him with a warm smile. "Welcome back! Do you like what I've done with the place?" She asked, turning around to admire her handy work. "I figured since it's our first Christmas together it should be more festive feeling and I just couldn't help myself. I hope I didn't go too overboard though."

She had thought it a shame that they hadn't decorated for Christmas with how close it was and as it got closer it just didn't feel right to not have something festive looking in the house. So when Severus had left that morning, [Y/n] decided that their first Christmas wouldn't be complete without a tree and some decorations.

So she made her way to Hogsmeade and gathered as much decoration as she could find in the short amount of time that she had to pull what she had in mind. The hardest thing was to get a tree sent over quickly and discreetly. Thankfully it was a handy thing to be such a skilled witch as her as with one little wave of a wand, the miniature tree that she had found easily became a midsize one and large enough to fit all the decorations she had bought.

She had furiously decorated the whole room not stopping until everything was done as she wanted to give him a surprise. Once all the decorations were up, she quickly ran to place the presents that they had bought for one another underneath it. Was it a temptation to take a peek at them, absolutely but she didn't!

"I think I did amazing with the time crunch I had, but you're the wizard I need to impress! Soooo how'd you like it?"

"[Y/n] I-." He started, but stopped in mid sentence causing her to look at him and notice the slightly shocked expression on his features.

He didn't quite know what to say. It had been years, since he had seen the room like this. Alive with so much colour and cheer, that when he thought of it, he actually didn't believe that he had ever seen it so full of life.

As a child, when they decorated, and that was if his parents could afford to, they would only usually have a tiny tree that had already lost a lot of it's needles. The lights were not colorful just a bright white with missing bulbs here and there, and there would usually be two or three things under the tree if anything at all.

So to see so much Christmas in his home, had his heart swirling with emotions that he still had a hard time coming to terms with. It all felt so new that all he could do was sit in silence for a moment as he took in what [Y/n] had done for him.

"Severus?" She questioned, unsure if the silence that was between them was good or bad as he had not yet voice an opinion either way.

She had been nervous about her whole decorating scheme and him not answering her made her stomach twist uncomfortably as she thought she had done something wrong.

"Oh gosh I've messed up haven't I? I debated on telling you but I thought it be a fun surprise," you know?" She babbled nervously, wringing her hands on her apron while trying to explain her reasoning. "I know you don't  like your stuff being moved about so I tried to work around it, but I just thought it be nice for a spark of colour to light the place up. Not that I don't like it as it is! It's just-."

She didn't get to finish her rambling explanation because before another word left her lips, Severus had wrapped his arms around her in a hug and his lips were pressed against hers in a gentle yet passionate kiss.

All of the worry she had about overstepping instantly melted like snow on a warm day and she was kissing him back with the same passion. Arms wrapping around his waist to keep her from falling over at how good his lips felt against hers, she couldn't hold in the moan that left her throat as he kissed her over and over until she was breathless from his affection.

"It's beautiful [Y/n]," he husked in that rich baritone of his as he finally pulled away from her lips leaving her a bit light headed. "Absolutely wonderful. A Christmas wonderland is not what I expected when I came but it is wonderful present either way."

His approval had her heart soaring, while also causing her to relax in his hold now that she knew his silence wasn't because he was crossed with her. Letting out a breath of relief, [Y/n] shuffled in his hold so that her back was against his front and she delicately took his hands so that he would lace his fingers across her waist.

Leaning back, they both gazed at the room for a moment, admiring her handy work at making everything so festive in such a short amount of time.

"Well good," she sighed out as his arms tighten their hold against her as he leaned down to kiss the top of her head. "I was scared that you were going to hate it but it makes me feel better that you don't. And also I think the lights on the tree are lovely and I would hate to take them down."

"Mhmm, they are quite lovely, but for what it's worth," he whispered huskily in her ear, a sound that made her shiver in his arms. "I think you are the brightest light in this room and in any other."

His compliment caused an involuntary smile to bloom on her lips as she turned around to face the man she adored so much. A tiny smile was on his thin lips when she looked at him, yet it was his dark eyes that were alight that seemed to tell the story of how happy he was.

"Oh Severus I do love you," she whispered as she went to stroke his cheek, causing his eyes to soften at her.

"And I love you, darling, thank you for this," he responded before leaning down and kissing her once more as they were surrounded in their little wonderland.