#how is it only Friday I’m going insane

[steviescrystals]

trying so hard not to wallow and feel sorry for myself but like 😁😁 how is it fair to tell someone they’re a great worker and they did nothing wrong and then let them go and the only explanation you give them is “we can’t pay all these full-time people anymore” ?? like damn i know i’ve been wanting a change in my life but i didn’t mean losing my fucking job for no reason

[spencerreidenjoyer]

lovebird | spencer reid x reader

Spencer's little girl sets you and her dad up.

wc: 3.3k, rating: teen

tags/warnings: 2+1, kindergarten teacher!reader, single girldad!spencer, fluff, meet-cute, implied sex, use of "Y/N" because this fic would've been impossible to write without it oops

a/n: not sure what possessed me to write this, but i finished writing this in about 2 days lmao. girldad!spencer loml. thank you to my lovely friends over on twitter who fuelled my insanity. for this fic i have season 10 spencer in mind/later seasons spencer who's just full on daddy at that point <3 (also crossposted on ao3!)

Sunday

You’re at the grocery store in a ratty t-shirt and sweats, picking out fucking cereal when you hear the pitter-patter of footsteps running towards you, and a sweet, high-pitched voice calling your name. 

It’s one of your students, Ellie Reid, holding a box of cereal that’s half her height, and she comes up to you in the aisle. 

“Ellie? What are you doing here?” You ask sweetly, pushing your hair out of your face before you squat down to meet Ellie’s height. 

“My daddy wanted to get groceries. He said we would go together. But he had to pick up the phone, and I wanted to help look for the things Daddy needs.”

Her dad, Dr. Spencer Reid, is an FBI agent and a single dad to Ellie. He’s one of the best parents you’ve had this year – the fancy kindergarten you teach at lends itself to spoiled brats and uptight parents, but Dr. Reid and Ellie are a welcome reprieve in a usually stuffy environment. You’re pleased to see her here, on a weekend, but less pleased with the fact that she’s alone. 

“Oh, wow! You’re so helpful, Ellie,” you say, holding her arm gently. “I’m sure your dad is really thankful. But you shouldn’t have walked off alone. I’m glad you found me.”

“Why?” 

“Because it’s not safe for you to walk around alone in the grocery store, Ellie,” you smile. “Let’s go find your dad.”

Ellie nods, her cheeks ruddy and when you hold out your hand for her to hold, Ellie’s little hand wraps around two of your fingers. “Did you come to the grocery store alone? It’s not safe.”

“I did come alone. But I’m an adult, so it’s okay. You’re little, Ellie, so you should only walk around with your dad.” You lead Ellie down aisle after aisle, walking past canned food and bags of chips and walls lined with bottles of drinks. 

“But you shouldn’t walk around alone if it’s dangerous. When we find my daddy maybe he can protect you too!” Ellie says confidently. 

When did this grocery store feel so big? You can’t find Dr. Reid anywhere, and you feel a rising panic in your chest. You have half a mind to pull up the school’s contact information in your phone, but you hear Dr. Reid’s voice calling his daughter’s name, and both you and Ellie turn around.

“Daddy!” Ellie shrieks, almost dropping the box of cereal in her arms as she dashes toward her father. She almost trips as she closes the distance, thankfully landing in her father’s arms before she does fall. 

Dr. Reid scoops her up, holding her tightly. “You had me worried, sweetheart.”

“Sorry, Daddy,” Ellie mumbles against her father’s shoulder. “But I found Miss Y/N and she helped me find you!”

“I told her not to run off alone in the future,” you say. “Right, Ellie?” 

The sweet girl nods. She giggles into Dr. Reid’s shoulder, and his hand comes up to pat her back, a soothing gesture.

“I’m glad it was you she bumped into,” Dr. Reid says, sighing with relief. “I wouldn’t know I would do with myself if–”

“It’s okay, Dr. Reid,” you assure him. “It’s not a problem at all. You’re– You’re doing a great job with her.”

“Thank you for saying that. I– I’ll see you at the parent-teacher meeting next Friday, right?”

“Yeah, next Friday.” You smile at him. “Have a good day, Dr. Reid. Bye, Ellie!”

“Bye!” Ellie, sweet girl, waves excitedly, her gummy smile overtaking her face. Dr. Reid walks toward the checkout, holding Ellie with one hand and pushing his shopping cart with the other. 

You feel how warm your cheeks are when Dr. Reid and Ellie are finally out of sight, your hand clammy around the handle of your shopping basket. You slap your cheek lightly, willing yourself to pull yourself together.

The way your heart flutters whenever you see Dr. Reid is a cause for concern, and you wonder if you should see a doctor about it. 

Dr. Spencer Reid is a marvel. He’s admirable, juggling his job at the FBI with raising a little girl all on his own, and he’s both a great profiler and a great dad. He’s incredibly sweet with Ellie and incredibly kind to you, which you unfortunately don’t get a lot, especially with the kinds of parents you deal with. It doesn’t help that he’s incredibly handsome: his hair is slightly long, wavy and messy in a way that frames his face just right, not to mention the stubble that makes him look that much hotter.

Your little crush on Dr. Reid is certainly inappropriate, but over the parent-teacher meetings and interacting with him when he drops off and picks up his daughter from school, you can’t help yourself from falling for him. 

Tuesday

Ellie Reid is a smart girl, that you know, but you're blindsided by her genius one day at recess. You’re monitoring all the kids at the playground when Ellie comes up to you. She has a contorted look on her face but she says, “Miss Y/N, I fell.”

“You did? Are you feeling okay?” You ask, squatting down to match her height. You look at her knees – not a speck of dirt nor a red spot from falling down.

“My knee hurts. Can you call my daddy?”

“Does it hurt badly? I’ll take you to see the nurse if it does,” you say, not entirely understanding the situation. You’ve never met a four-year-old who wouldn’t be in tears over tripping and falling, even if the injury wasn’t severe. 

The look on Ellie’s face makes you think that she’s trying to match your expectations of what she should be feeling. “It doesn't hurt bad. I just want my daddy to come pick me up. Can you call him?”

You try not to furrow your brow at the strange request. You’re usually trusted to handle any little accidents and mishaps with the children, but at Ellie’s insistence of calling her father, you feel like you should. 

(It’s certainly not spurred on by seeing him at the grocery store last weekend.)

“Alright, Ellie. I’ll call your dad and see what he says, okay?”

“Okay, Miss Y/N,” Ellie says, smiling at you. You get her to sit down on the bench next to you and your co-teacher to oversee the kids before fish your phone out from your pocket to dial Dr. Reid’s number. As you wait for the call to go through, Ellie looks at you with wide, expectant eyes. You smile at her.

On the third ring, Dr. Reid picks up. “Hello?” 

“Hi, Dr. Reid. This is Miss Y/N from Ellie’s school. I’m calling to inform you that Ellie fell on the playground during recess.”

“Oh, my. Is she alright?” You hear Dr. Reid’s voice grow concerned. Ellie looks up at you, and you look the little girl up and down one more time just to be sure.

“Yes, she is. I checked and she doesn’t have any scrapes or bruises. She says her knee hurts, but that she’s also fine. Usually, we don’t call parents over small mishaps like this, but Ellie insisted that I call you.”

“I see,” Dr. Reid hums, his tone indecipherable. “Can I talk to her?”

“Sure thing, Dr. Reid,” you say. You hold the phone out to Ellie as you put the call on speakerphone and tell her, “Your dad wants to speak to you, Ellie.”

Ellie is polite, but clearly excited as she yells, “Hi, Daddy!” 

“Woah! Hi, Ellie,” Dr. Reid laughs, his serious tone while he was speaking to you gone, talking to his daughter with a delightful whimsy. “Miss Y/N told me you fell on the playground today. Does it hurt?”

“No,” Ellie answers, but she looks up quickly at you. “I mean, yes. Just a little. It doesn’t hurt too bad anymore.”

You hide your smile, and you think you can hear the smile in Dr. Reid’s voice as he says, “Okay, sweet girl, that’s good.”

“Can you come and pick me up right now, Daddy?” Ellie asks, a little whiny. It’s adorable, though. 

“Well, it’s only ten in the morning, honey,” Dr. Reid bargains. “And I know you have art class later, right? Don’t you want to stay around for that?”

“I do!” Ellie says eagerly. “Oh, I love art class!”

“I know you do, honey,” Dr. Reid assures. “So, do you feel okay enough to stick around in class until Daddy comes to pick you up at the end of the day?”

“Yes, Daddy,” Ellie nods, even though Dr. Reid can’t see her. “But you have to come pick me up!”

“I always do, Ellie,” Dr. Reid laughs, making Ellie laugh along too. “Okay, honey. Go on and play with your friends. I’ll see you later.”

“Okay! Bye, Daddy! I love you!”

“Bye! I love you too, Ellie!” Dr. Reid matches Ellie’s excitable energy, and Ellie giggles before she runs off to play again. His voice returns to a calm but engaged sort of energy. “Well, that was something.”

“She seems fine,” you say, switching the speakerphone off as you hold your phone back up to your ear. “I’m sorry to bother you in the middle of your work day, Dr. Reid.”

“Oh, please, it’s not a bother at all,” Dr. Reid laughs gently. “I love talking to Ellie. She might miss me or something, if she had to fake a fall so you would call me.”

“Perhaps,” you say, slightly surprised that Dr. Reid would be so quick to call out his daughter’s bluff. Some of the other parents would rip your throat out if you even insinuated their child was in the wrong. “I’ll still keep an eye out for her.”

“Thanks, Miss Y/N,” Dr. Reid insists. “Besides, it’s always a pleasure getting a call from you.”

You don’t remember if you thank him before he hangs up, because all you can think about is Dr. Reid saying he enjoys talking to you.

After putting your phone away, you press your hands to your warm cheeks in an effort to calm yourself and your beating heart down. 

Dr. Reid is one of the last parents to come by during pickup. It’s a somewhat regular occurrence, with Dr. Reid’s busy and hectic job. You are never bothered by spending extra time with Ellie, and you know Dr. Reid always tries his best to pick Ellie up as soon as he can. He usually makes regular pickup so you never get to exchange more than a few words with him, but days like today aren’t necessarily rare either. But considering your interaction on Sunday, you’re secretly pleased with how it’s worked out. 

Only you and Ellie are left in the classroom, you having told your co-teacher to clock out first. You’re pleasantly surprised when there’s a knock on the door frame, Dr. Reid standing there in a cardigan and a button-up shirt with his dress pants. “Ellie!”

His hair is somehow more fluffy and messy than you’d seen him at the grocery store, but it just makes him look even more soft and domestic. You try not to look at Dr. Reid with hearts in your eyes as Ellie shrieks and runs towards him, Dr. Reid picking her up easily and swinging her around before he holds her tight. “Hi, sweet girl.”

“Daddy!” Ellie giggles. “I missed you today.”

“I missed you too, honey,” Dr. Reid coos, pressing a kiss to the top of Ellie’s head. Your insides melt, gooey at the tooth-rottingly sweet display in front of you. “Were you a good girl for Miss Y/N today?”

“Uh-huh!” Ellie nods, her gummy smile absolutely adorable. 

“She was a pleasure,” you add. “Hello, Dr. Reid.”

“Hello again.” Dr. Reid smiles. “It’s nice to see you. Are you doing well?”

“Yes, I am. Other than Ellie’s little incident, today was thankfully uneventful. Thank you for asking.”

Dr. Reid’s face scrunches up in an extremely endearing way, like it’s obvious that he’d want to know about… you. “Of course. I like to know you’re doing well. It’s great to hear.”

You feel like you don’t know what to say to that, perhaps a little too caught up in your little crush on him to come up with a coherent response. You laugh shyly, tucking your hair behind your ear. Dr. Reid has set Ellie down, and she wanders around the classroom, fidgeting with the pencils on the tables, but doesn’t stray too far from her dad. “Ellie seems to be fine from earlier, but you might want to check in with her again.”

“I will,” Dr. Reid says, nodding. “Oh! I almost forgot–”

You look on as Dr. Reid fumbles in his satchel, pulling a crumpled paper bag out. The paper bag looks bulky, oil stains seeped through on the sides and on the bottom. “Oh, it looks bad. It’s good, I promise– It’s a chocolate muffin from this really good bakery near my office. I just thought I’d get you one. Since you’re so helpful with Ellie. Especially today.”

Dr. Reid holds it out for you, and you scramble to step forward and take it. “Thank you, Dr. Reid, you- You didn’t have to. It’s my job to look after Ellie, after all. Not that it’s a burden, or just a job, I mean– Ellie’s great. She’s one of our brightest, but don’t tell any of the other parents that.”

Dr. Reid smiles so bright you feel like you could feel the warmth radiating from him. “I won’t, if I bump into any of them at the parent-teacher meeting.”

You bite your lip, smiling, shy at the attention Dr. Reid gives you. You think he’s flirting(?) with you, but you try to remain professional. You clear your throat. “Thank you, Dr. Reid.” 

“Thank you again, Miss Y/N. I mean it.” Dr. Reid asserts, and you feel your cheeks flush. “Tonight is pizza night, so Ellie and I should be making our way home right about now.”

“Pizza!” Ellie yells, giddy, causing both you and Dr. Reid to laugh. She zooms past you to stand next to her dad. 

“Thank you, Dr. Reid. I’ll see you proper on Friday,” you say, nodding your head slightly. “And I’ll see you, Ellie, tomorrow, yeah?”

“Bye, Miss Y/N!” Ellie waves frantically. Dr. Reid joins her in her waving, equally silly. 

“I look forward to seeing you then, Miss Y/N,” Dr. Reid smiles. “Bye.”

“Bye!” you reply, trying not to sound too eager, and then Dr. Reid ducks out of the classroom with Ellie in hand. You feel like you’re swooning so hard you might faint.

Friday

Parent-teacher meetings go smoothly, thankfully. There are parents who only bother to hear the praise you give their children, so ignorant to the criticisms of their children that you try not to make too obvious. After seeing nineteen sets of parents, Dr. Spencer Reid is your last of the day. You don’t want to say you’ve been waiting for this all day, but checking off the nineteen sets of parents before this has only made you more and more excited. 

Dr. Reid finally enters the classroom, two minutes early for his slot, but he’s alone. 

“Where’s Ellie? She’s totally allowed to sit in for these meetings too.”

“She’s at my boss’ place for a playdate with his son,” Dr. Reid says. “Actually, that sounds pretty weird, doesn’t it? My daughter, having a playdate with my boss’ son?”

“Not at all. They say it takes a village to raise a child. I’m glad your colleagues are so helpful with Ellie.”

“They really are,” Dr. Reid asserts, smiling. “Hotch– My boss, I mean– offered, knowing I had this meeting.”

“That’s really nice of him,” you nod. “So, about Ellie…”

“Please tell me you only have good things to say,” Dr. Reid jokes, and you try very hard not to swoon. 

“Essentially, yes,” you nod. “Ellie is such a bright girl, and she’s so sweet. She’s always helpful with her classmates and polite to everyone and the teachers too. Again, don’t tell this to the other parents, but Ellie’s set high standards for the rest of the class.”

“You’re telling me an awful lot that I shouldn’t be telling the other parents,” Dr. Reid grins. “You sure you aren’t playing favourites?”

“You certainly are my favourite,” you say before you can catch yourself, and Dr. Reid looks at you with wide eyes. You imagine you look equally shocked. “I’m sorry, Dr. Reid, I didn't mean to say that.”

Dr. Reid cocks his head, a little smile toying on his lips. “Miss Y/N, did I ever tell you what I do for the FBI?”

You have no idea how this relates to how unprofessional and inappropriate you are being. You shake your head anyway, too afraid to say anything anymore before you say something even more embarrassing. 

“I’m a profiler, Miss Y/N. I use psychology and study behaviour to catch serial killers,” Dr. Reid explains, using his hands to articulate his point. Your eyes dart down to the motion; but your gaze quickly flits back up to his face. “In general, I’m good at reading people.”

“Is that so?” You gulp. Is he able to read you?

“I don’t mean to profile you, Miss Y/N, I mean it,” Dr. Reid sounds a little apologetic. “But I can’t help but notice the way you lean toward me when we’re speaking, the way you fidget with your hands a little, the way you can almost meet my eyes, but you still seem a little bashful about it. I either intimidate you, or…”

“Or..?” 

“I’m sorry if this is too forward, but would you like to get dinner with me?”

“What?” You ask, disbelieving. “Dinner?”

“You- You’re interested in me too, aren’t you?”

“Too?” You gape, sounding like a parrot as you repeat his words, simply unable to wrap your head around the fact that Ellie Reid’s young, hot, genius father just asked you on a date. 

“I’m usually not too doubtful of my profiling skills, but beautiful women like you make me second-guess if I’m reading this right.” Dr. Reid laughs, avoiding looking at you. 

“Dr. Reid, I would love to get dinner with you,” You say, trying to sound confident. 

Dr. Reid beams as he meets your eyes. “Oh, thank God.”

“Cheesy that you’re calling me beautiful,” you laugh bashfully, waving him off. 

“I mean it!” Dr. Reid insists. “And, um– Would you want to do dinner after this? If you don’t have any other meetings, of course. Or any other plans– you’d probably have plans on a Friday night, right? Way to be presumptuous–”

“Dr. Reid! I don’t have plans tonight. A dinner date sounds great,” you laugh.

“Great! Great, good. I’m glad.” Dr. Reid says, looking a little giddy that you’d taken him up on it. “Also, um- I love when people call me Dr. Reid, but please just call me Spencer. Do you think people would get the wrong idea if you called me Dr. the whole time?” 

You cackle, Spencer looking thoroughly pleased at making you laugh. 

“Okay, Spencer,” you try his first name, and it rolls off your tongue with ease. “Let me pack up and then we can go get dinner.”

“I like when you say my name,” Spencer smiles. “What’re you feeling for dinner?”

If you and Spencer kiss at the end of your dinner date in front of your apartment door, that’s between you and him. 

You pulling Spencer into your apartment with your hands fisted in his hair should also stay between you and him. 

It doesn’t entirely stay between you and him, though, as Spencer calls his boss to turn Ellie’s playdate into a sleepover before he rolls over to kiss you and take you all over again. 

[mioons]

“how could my day be bad when i’m with you.”

pairing. enhypen ot7 x fem. reader (hcs)

genre. fluff, est. relationship wc. 928 warnings. skinship, mentions of wedding, petnames, swearing

— enhypen as cute things that couples do. extra. guys idk why this took me sooo long to write like the thinking put into this is insane.

LEE HEESEUNG — sharing wired earpieces

it could be on the way to school. or on the way to that cafe you wanted to go to since forever. lee heeseung thinks he wants to somehow be connected to you at all times, even when you two were on the train or the bus; not just physically but emotionally too.

this is why he feels headphones aren’t his thing; because he can’t share it with you.

he’d put on his favourite album on repeat. he loves sharing his favourite things with his favourite person. his favourite pretty girl.

holding out one side of the earpiece, he’d gesture you to take it, “put it on,” he’d request.

you two sat on the train in silence but your hearts were connected, beating in tandem.

SIM JAEYUN — wearing his hoodie

he’d want you to have a piece of him everytime you two were not together. needed you to wear something that said that you were his. you were his beloved girlfriend whom he cherished so much.

honestly even if you weren’t apart he’d still make you wear his hoodie, claiming that it looked better on you than him. he likes the fact that the sleeves cover your entire arm, leaving only the tips on your fingernails to be seen; the way it almost reaches your knees—fucking adorable he thinks.

“by the way here’s your hoodie, i think i forgot to return it the other day,” you’d say as you passed him his hoodie.

he purposely didn’t ask for it back because he wanted you to have it. forever.

“no no darling, you keep it m’kay? everytime we have movie nights on fridays make sure to wear it.”

PARK JONGSEONG — helping you with your shoes + carrying you

tying your shoelaces? no no don’t worry, he’ll help you. slipping on heels your for you? he’d be down on his knees to help you with it. putting on socks? “of course my love, which pair of socks?”

don’t even move an inch, he’ll take care of you.

“you too tired to walk pretty?” he’d ask as he caressed the small of your back with his thumb, rubbing circles on it.

you’d shake your head, “no it’s okay seongie, i got it.”

you actually didn’t ‘got it’. every few minutes while you two were walking along the bustling street, you’d take a short pause to adjust your shoe.

“baby, cmon don’t be stubborn, let me help you,” he’d sigh and wrap his arms around your hip, lifting you off the ground, gaining a small yelp sound from you. “seongie you don’t need to carry me!”

“i know princess; i just want to carry you.”

PARK SUNGHOON — breakfast, be in bed or in public

the moment sunghoon found out you don’t eat breakfast he got worried but he didn’t say anything.

“yn, can we go out for breakfast tomorrow?” he’d ask while you two were calling on the phone.

“mm, sure, why not? tomorrow 9am?” you asked.

“mhm.”

he’d make sure you were well fed, made sure you had enough energy to sustain throughout the day. he wouldn’t want to see his pretty girl collapsing in school or when she’s out.

on days where you two stayed over at each others house, he’d wake up early just to cook something for you; to surprise you with breakfast in bed.

“good morning darling, eat up m’kay?”

KIM SUNOO — matching items

it started when you saw a couple bracelet on instagram and you decided to buy it for sunoo and yourself.

“what’s this for?” he’d ask as you helped you put on the bracelet.

“it’s matching bracelets, you don’t want it?” you pouted and looked up at him through your lashes

he sighed and chuckled, “no no baby, i just didn’t know you liked matching things.”

from then on he’d buy you guys anything matching. matching shirts? don’t worry he’d customise two just for the both of you. matching phone charms? he’d go and find one online for the both of you.

one day he’d get matching wedding rings too.

YANG JUNGWON — playing with your hair

if he’s not clinging onto your hand, he’s playing with your hair.

he likes the way your hair is so so smooth and he can just thread his fingers through it, how it smells like vanilla and lavender.

on some days he’d ask you, “hey darling, could i braid your hair please?”

of course you’d say yes. you loved the feeling of his fingers gently massaging your scalp as he styled your hair. even if your hair was short or long, he’d still play with it.

he’d pick flowers for you just to insert them into your hair. yang jungwon thinks you look like a bride like that.

NISHIMURA RIKI — love letters

he loves writing love letters to you. he’d spend hours and hours drafting and writing them. just for you.

when he’s not around to pass it to you, sometimes he’d send it to you via text to make sure you still get your daily love letters; life is too short for him not to send paragraphs professing his love for you.

his friends would ask him why he wouldn’t just want to tell you straight up and chose to write letters. to be honest he’s shy and too scared to say everything to you upfront, he’d rather just write for you so you could keep it forever with the other stacks of love letters he wrote you.

don’t worry, he’s already wrote his wedding vows.

luvlyhee 2024 :: taglist open ,, send an ask to be added

tl: @en-gelic @dioll @luv-sims @minjubie

[dreamwritesimagines]

Theory of Gravity

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Female!Reader

Summary: Making small talk can be difficult with a crush.

Word Count: 1234

Genre: Fluff Oneshot

Content: Drinking, reader being awkward because she has a crush, flirting

Contrary to popular belief, snitching on the whereabouts of a very dangerous mobster in the bar you worked in and possibly getting killed or maimed in the process was not a good plan for a Friday night but to be completely honest, you had done worse things over a silly little crush.

Like back in college freshman year when you pretended to be into music biopics just so that the hot guy in your elective would think you two were meant to be.

So if anything, this was a pattern.

“Logan?” you said as you put his drink in front of him. “Can I ask you something?”

“Hm?”

“What was Galileo like?”

He blinked a couple of times, the familiar scowl that seemed to be etched on his handsome face getting deeper and you tried to ignore the way your heart skipped a beat.

“Please tell me you’re joking,” he said. “I will lose all the belief I’ve never had in the first place in this country’s education system if you’re serious.”

You gave him a bright smile. “Maybe.”

“Maybe?”

“I figured it was better than asking how the public took it when Newton came up with the theory of gravity.”  

The look on his face couldn’t be described with anything but complete horror and you let out a laugh, then went to serve another customer before quickly making your way to him.

“I’m just messing with you,” you said, leaning against the bar as you stole a look at the mobster sitting by the table with his men, then to Wade who was very, very busy with Vanessa by the corner.

“You look nervous,” Logan pointed out, making your head whip up before you cleared your throat.

“Nah, not at all,” you said. “I’m just thinking that if I die tonight, I’ll die doing what I love.”

“Which is?”

Gazing at older men who couldn’t look less interested in me.

“Being surrounded by drunk people who want to give me money,” you said. “Not a bad way to go.”

He scoffed into his drink before taking a sip while you nibbled on your lip, shifting your weight.

“Nothing is going to happen to you,” he said, his voice gruff. “We’re just waiting for his partner to show up, then we will deal with them both.”

You nodded your head. “Yeah. Sure, I know.”

“Do you?”

You nodded again, absentmindedly reaching out to play with the cocktail straw on the counter, painfully aware of his gaze on you that made your face burn.

“How’s grad school?”

…He remembered.

He remembered you saying that the last time he and Wade were here.

One simple observer would’ve thought he was on his knees proclaiming his undying love for you with the way your heartbeat went insane and his eyebrows rose as if he could hear it, but you quickly casted the thought away from your mind; that was surely impossible.

“Oh it’s going well!” you said, your voice going high-pitched for a moment. “Came for the hot professors, stayed for the education—I’m joking,” you added in a haste, waving a hand in the air. “I’m a very…very deep and intellectual individual.”

“Uh huh.”

“And none of my professors are hot,” you muttered and wiped at the damp spot on the counter with a napkin. “They should put that on the brochure if you ask me, it’s important information.”

“So you’ll be a doctor?”

“If by some miracle my dissertation goes through the jury,” you pointed out. “How about you? How’s your roommate situation with Wade going?”

He only grumbled something under his breath and you bit back a smile, then topped his drink.

“Thanks sweetheart.”

If there was one thing you hated the idea of more than dying was proving Freud right but it looked like you were going two for two tonight.

“So uh,” you said, trying to ignore the goosebumps rising on your arms because of his deep voice. “Hey, at least you have the place to yourself sometimes, no? When Wade is with Vanessa? Should give you some time to…bring someone home.”

And I volunteer as tribute.

He raised his brows, his unwavering gaze pinning you to your spot and you cleared your throat.

“Or—or someones,” you stammered. “Sky is the limit if you’re into that sort of thing. Now that it came up by the way, are…are you?”

“Am I bringing people home?” he asked as if he wanted to make sure that was what you were asking and you shrugged your shoulders, your face on fire.

“I’m just asking because, you know,” you began the sentence without having a clue on how you would finish it as usual. “I’m great at giving relationship advice, so if you were in a relationship I could be your own personal relationship coach.”

He pulled his brows together in confusion and you reached out to get the bowl full of peanut shells from his right just so that you could keep yourself busy, then turned the bowl over the garbage can.

“I’m not,” he said and you swallowed thickly.

“Who has the time for that these days, am I right?”

“Do you have—”

“Yes I have the time!” you cut him off, nodding your head in enthusiasm, your heart beating in your ears but he had already finished his sentence;

“…ice?”

You hoped to God tonight was the night you’d die because if that mobster in the corner didn’t shoot you, you were going to have to ask Wade to do it just to save you from this embarrassment.

“Oh,” you said after a beat as he stared at you. “Yeah—yeah I have ice, sorry.”

You rushed to get some ice and put it into his whiskey, biting inside your cheek and he cleared his throat.

“You don’t want to go out with me sweetheart.”

Well good news was that you had already made a fool of yourself so one could think the bar for your self-respect couldn’t get any lower, but boy oh boy you had already brought your metaphorical shovel.  

“I disagree,” you said, taking a deep breath. “I would very much love to if you were interested.”

“You think I’m not interested?”

“I feel like I’d have a better chance at proving you’re not interested with dates and references than my own thesis,” you pointed out. “And that’s saying something—”

“I am interested,” he cut you off, making your eyes widen and you gawked at him, frozen in your spot. “Trust me, that’s not the problem here.”

“Am I getting the I’m too dangerous for you speech?” you heard yourself ask through disbelief. “Because screw that speech. Honestly, the only thing I’m focused on in here is if you—fuck!”

He pulled his brows together. “If I—?”

“No no!” you said as you pointed at the back door where two men were dragging Wade through. “Wade!”

Logan cussed under his breath as he shot up from his stool.

“Don’t go anywhere, we’ll talk about this later,” he told you and made his way to the back door while you heaved a sigh, leaning back to the counter as he stepped outside and you caught the sight of him grabbing a man by the neck before the door slammed shut. You pressed a hand over your chest, then tilted your head back with a groan.

“Alright,” you muttered to yourself. “That was smooth.”

[seafarersdream]

Last Friday Night | Modern AU! (Cregan Stark x Y/N)

In the realm of scandalous misdeeds, slumbering with your brother’s best friend should be a cardinal sin—dangerous liaison that Y/N Velaryon ought to steer clear of, now nor in any future reincarnation. But, oh, how the rules bend under the weight of temptation. A night of drunken sex with Cregan Stark, Jace’s insanely hot best mate and a towering 6-foot something alpine skier with ice in his veins. What a night it was! Only problem? They were both so tipsy that the details are a hazy blur, and now they awaken in a tangled mess beside each other. Word count: 5,6k

TW // Strong language and profanities, sexual content, mentions of alcohol, smoking.

“Fuck.”

That was the first coherent thought Y/N Velaryon had when she opened her eyes. Her head throbbed like a drum, each pulse a reminder of why tequila shots are the devil’s work. The room was unfamiliar—definitely not hers. The bed was too big, the sheets too expensive, and the body lying beside her too…well, fuck again.

She turned her head slowly, hoping against hope that her suspicions were wrong. Maybe it was some rando, some nameless, faceless guy who she could shove out the door with minimal awkwardness. But when she finally caught a glimpse of the dark, messy hair and the broad, bare back that could only belong to one man, she groaned internally.

Cregan fucking Stark.

Of course, it was him. It couldn’t just be some forgettable one-night stand. It had to be her brother’s best friend, the guy Jace had always been crystal clear was off-limits. And here they were, in bed together, like the setup to some bad rom-com, except this was way more fucked up.

She pressed her palms to her eyes, trying to piece together what the hell happened last night. There were flashes—Jace convincing her to go to some ridiculous party at a mutual friend’s country estate (more like a palace really), the champagne flowing, the ridiculous number of shots, and the way Cregan had looked at her from across the room. Not that she'd paid much attention, or so she thought.

And then…nothing. A blank slate. Well, at least until now, when the reality of waking up next to the man Jace had declared off-limits hit her like a truck.

“Shit, shit, shit,” Y/N muttered under her breath, shifting slightly to get out of bed without waking Cregan. But the sheets rustled, and before she could even swing her legs out, a deep voice rumbled beside her.

“Morning.”

Her heart nearly jumped out of her chest. She froze, mid-escape, and slowly turned to face him. Cregan was wide awake, propped up on one elbow, smirking at her like the cocky bastard he was.

“Morning,” she croaked, her mouth dry as hell. “This is, um…”

“A fucking disaster?” he suggested, his grin widening.

“Yeah, something like that.”

Cregan chuckled, the sound rich and annoyingly sexy, even through her hangover. He looked far too pleased with himself, considering the circumstances. His dark eyes held hers, and for a second, Y/N was painfully aware of the fact that she was still very much naked under these sheets. So was he.

This was beyond bad.

“I remember bits and pieces,” she admitted, rubbing her temples. “But not…this. Why didn’t you stop me? Or yourself?”

“You think I could have stopped you?” Cregan raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “You were pretty damn determined.”

Y/N groaned, slumping back against the pillows. “Fuck. Jace is going to kill us. You know that, right? He’s literally going to skin you alive.”

“Pretty sure he’s got more important things to worry about than who his sister hooks up with,” Cregan said, stretching lazily. “Not that I’m planning on telling him.”

She shot him a look. “And how exactly do you think we’re going to keep this a secret? He’ll know. Jace always knows when I’m up to something. He’s like a damn oracle.”

Cregan shrugged, like he wasn’t at all fazed by the prospect of Jace’s wrath. Which, Y/N supposed, he wouldn’t be. Cregan Stark was all ice and steel when it came to handling pressure. Professional alpine skier, always on the edge of danger—like he didn’t have enough adrenaline in his life without adding ‘sleeping with his best friend’s little sister’ to the list.

“We just pretend it didn’t happen,” Cregan suggested, as if that was the easiest thing in the world. “Last night was a blur, and this morning’s just a bad dream. We’ll go our separate ways, no one’s the wiser.”

“You really think that’ll work?” Y/N asked skeptically.

“We won’t know unless we try,” he replied, his tone almost teasing.

She couldn’t believe this was happening. She’d just finished uni, started her internship at a nice law firm, and was supposed to be focusing on her career. Instead, she was tangled up in the sheets with Cregan Stark, about to engage in the most complicated cover-up of her life.

“Fine,” she finally said, exhaling sharply. “But if Jace finds out, you’re the one explaining it to him.”

“Deal.” Cregan’s smirk softened into something almost genuine, and for a moment, Y/N’s stomach did a weird flip.

She quickly pushed the feeling down. This was a one-time thing, a mistake—one she couldn’t afford to repeat, no matter how tempting it might be. The last thing she needed was more complications in her life.

“Okay, I need to get out of here,” Y/N said, sitting up and scanning the room for her clothes. They were scattered across the floor, a chaotic mix of her dress, shoes, and underwear. Cregan’s clothes were mingled with hers—of course, he didn’t seem to be in any rush to get up. Typical.

As she scrambled out of bed, trying to gather her things, she felt Cregan’s eyes on her, and when she looked back, there was something in his gaze that made her pause. It wasn’t just the lazy, post-hookup look she expected. There was something else, something deeper that she couldn’t quite place. But before she could analyze it further, he smirked again, shattering the moment.

“Need any help?” he offered, his tone suggesting anything but.

“I’m good,” she replied quickly, slipping into her dress and trying to maintain whatever dignity she had left. “I’ll just, uh, see myself out.”

“Sure thing, Y/N,” Cregan said, his voice holding a hint of something she couldn’t quite identify—teasing, maybe, or was it something more?

But she didn’t have time to dwell on it. She needed to get out of here, get back to her place, and pretend this never happened. As she slipped her shoes on and made a beeline for the door, she could feel his eyes on her the whole time, and it took every ounce of willpower not to look back.

The walk of shame had never been so literal.

▐░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▌

Y/N finally made it back to her flat in South Kensington, pushing through the ache in her head and the overwhelming need for a gallon of water and a hot shower. She fumbled with her keys, silently praying to every god she didn’t believe in that Jace would still be at the photoshoot he’d mentioned yesterday.

But as soon as she swung the door open, she knew her luck had run out.

Jace Velaryon was sprawled out on her couch like he owned the place—legs kicked up on the coffee table, remote in one hand, a half-eaten bowl of cereal in the other. He looked up as she entered, and his face lit up in that way only big brothers get when they know they’re about to cause trouble.

“Well, well, well,” he drawled, a grin spreading across his face. “Look who’s doing the walk of shame this morning.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, trying to play it cool. “Shut up, Jace. I just went for a…walk.” Even she cringed at how lame that sounded.

“A walk?” Jace repeated, raising an eyebrow. “In last night’s dress and heels? That’s a new one, even for you.”

“I wasn’t—” she started, but Jace cut her off with a laugh.

“Please, sis. Don’t even try it. I’ve known you too long to fall for that bullshit.” He sat up, clearly enjoying himself. “So, who was the lucky guy? Or girl? I’m open-minded.”

She shot him a glare, trying to ignore the heat creeping up her cheeks. “It’s none of your business, Jace.”

“Oh, come on,” he whined. “You’re my little sister. It’s literally my job to make your love life my business.”

She snorted, moving past him toward the kitchen. “Right, because you’re such an expert on relationships.”

“Hey, I’ve been in plenty of—” he began defensively, but she cut him off.

“One-night stands don’t count, Jace.”

He laughed, unfazed. “Touché. But seriously, you look like death warmed over. Was the party that wild?”

Y/N could still feel the blood rushing to her face, and she kept her back to him, rummaging in the fridge for a bottle of infused water. “Yeah, it was…something.”

“I knew it!” Jace crowed, slapping his knee. “I knew you’d have a good time once you loosened up. See, you should listen to me more often. You’re always so serious with your work stuff, but you gotta live a little, Y/N. You’re too young to be so…responsible.”

She rolled her eyes but didn’t argue. Because as much as she hated to admit it, Jace had a point. Her life had been all about exams and internships lately, no time for fun or the kind of reckless behavior that usually ended with waking up next to a Stark.

“Yeah, yeah, I get it. Party more, work less,” she muttered, twisting the cap off the bottle and taking a long drink.

Jace leaned forward, a mischievous gleam in his eyes. “So, was he hot at least? This guy you left with?”

Y/N almost choked on her water. “What? I didn’t leave with anyone.”

“Right,” he said, dragging the word out. “That’s why you’re sneaking back in at ten in the morning with bedhead and makeup smudged like a panda. Come on, just tell me who it was. Was it that guy Luke introduced you to last week? What was his name…Liam? Leon?”

She shook her head, exasperated. “Hells, Jace, can you just drop it?”

Jace grinned, leaning back again. “Oh, this must’ve been a really good one if you’re getting this defensive. Come on, Y/N, I’m dying here. Give me something.”

For a second, she considered telling him the truth—just blurting it out and watching the chaos unfold. But then she thought of Cregan’s lazy smile, the way he’d suggested they just forget about it and move on. The way her brother would probably explode into a million pieces if he knew. And she decided against it.

“Fine,” she sighed dramatically. “If you must know, it was some random bloke, okay? No one you know. Just a guy. But yes, he is fit. Satisfied?”

Jace considered this, squinting at her as if trying to detect a lie. Finally, he shrugged. “I guess. But if you don’t want me to know, that just makes me want to know more. You know that, right?”

“Yeah, well, good luck with that,” she replied, moving past him again, hoping he’d drop it.

He watched her go, still grinning like an idiot. “You know, you should bring him to the next party,” he called after her. “Introduce me. I promise I won’t bite…unless he’s into that sort of thing.”

Y/N groaned and flipped him off over her shoulder. “You’re disgusting, Jace.”

“Love you too, sis,” he shot back, laughing. “And don’t think I won’t find out who it is. I always do.”

She shook her head, muttering curses under her breath as she retreated to her room. She needed a shower, a coffee, and about ten years of therapy to figure out how she’d ended up in bed with Cregan Stark of all people. But first, she needed to figure out how to keep Jace in the dark. Because if he ever found out…

Well, that wasn’t even worth thinking about.

▐░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▌

Cregan Stark stood in the middle of his wrecked bedroom, hands on his hips, surveying the chaos. Sheets twisted, pillows on the floor, a lamp somehow knocked over. It looked like a tornado had swept through, and that tornado’s name was Y/N Velaryon.

“Fucking hell,” he muttered under his breath, running a hand through his tousled dark hair. He tried to piece together the events of last night, but the details were hazy, like trying to grab smoke with his bare hands. He remembered flashes—the way she looked at him, the heat in her gaze, the sound of her laugh, and the taste of alcohol on her lips.

But everything after that? A blur.

Goddamn shame, too, because if there was anything he wanted to remember clearly, it was Y/N Velaryon in his bed, under him, her nails digging into his back. Fuck, he’d have liked to play that on repeat in his mind forever, but the alcohol had betrayed him, stealing away the details of what was undoubtedly the hottest night of his life.

He started picking up his last night’s clothes scattered across the floor and cursed himself again. How could he forget? He rarely drank that much, being an athlete and all, but last night…last night had been something else. He found his shirt flung over the back of a chair, his pants half-hanging off the edge of the bed. His brief were bunched up in the corner, and then—

Oh.

A small, red scrap of lace was tangled up in the sheets. He picked it up, grinning as he realized it was her G-string. She must’ve been in one hell of a hurry to leave it behind. He turned it over in his hands, feeling the delicate fabric, imagining her wearing it, and smirked.

“One hell of a merchandise,” he muttered with a chuckle, tucking the lace into his pocket. “Score.”

It was stupid, really. A goddamn G-string, and here he was, acting like he’d found a winning lottery ticket. But there was something about Y/N—something that had always pulled him in, even when he’d been trying his hardest to ignore it. Jace’s little sister, forbidden territory. He’d spent years pretending he didn’t notice how fucking gorgeous she’d grown, how smart and sharp-tongued she was. But last night had shattered all of that pretense into a million pieces.

He shoved the rest of the clothes into a messy laundry pile, wondering how long it would take for Jace to find out. Y/N was good at keeping secrets, he’d give her that, but Jace was practically psychic when it came to his sister. Cregan could already hear his best friend’s voice in his head, pissed off and protective, probably ready to bash his skull in.

But for some reason, that didn’t bother him as much as it should. He found himself smiling, still, as he started straightening up the room. Maybe it was because he liked the idea of having something that was just his and hers—something Jace didn’t know, something they could keep between them.

And hell, if it was anything like last night—at least, what he could remember of it—he wouldn’t mind making a habit of it.

As he finished tidying up, he spotted his phone on the nightstand, the screen lighting up with a new message. He picked it up, already knowing who it would be.

Jace:

Yo, brunch? Need to talk to you about something.

Cregan snorted. Of course, Jace wanted to talk. He always did when something was up with Y/N. He hesitated for a second, wondering if Jace had already figured out what had happened. But nah, if Jace knew, the message would’ve been a lot less polite.

He typed back a quick reply.

Sure, mate. Usual spot?

There was a pause before Jace responded.

Jace:

Yeah, see you in 30. And don’t be late, you lazy fuck.

Cregan chuckled, tossing the phone back on the bed. Yeah, this was going to be fun. He grabbed a fresh shirt, slipped it over his head, and, with a final glance around the now semi-clean room, he headed out.

He might not remember every detail of last night, but he’d be damned if he let that stop him from figuring out how to make it happen again.

▐░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▌

Cregan arrived at the little brasserie they always met at, a tiny spot tucked away on a quiet street. The kind of place with faded awnings and mismatched chairs that served strong coffee and even stronger Bloody Marys. Jace was already sitting outside, a cigarette dangling from his lips, dressed in designer shades and a leather jacket that probably cost more than most people’s rent.

“You’re late,” Jace called out as Cregan approached, flicking ash into the street. “I was starting to think you’d bailed.”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world, mate,” Cregan replied, sliding into the chair across from him. “But, you know, mornings are a bitch.” Especially when you’ve just spent them cleaning up the aftermath of what could’ve been the best mistake of your life, he thought.

Jace smirked, passing him the pack of cigarettes. “Yeah, looks like you had a rough one. Big night?”

Cregan shrugged, playing it cool. “Something like that. But hey, speaking of big nights…” He leaned in conspiratorially, lighting his cigarette. “What’s this I hear about Aegon?”

Jace snorted, taking a drag from his own cigarette. “Oh, mate, you haven’t heard? It’s fucking priceless.” He leaned back, tapping the ash off with a grin that was half-amused, half-disgusted. “My dear cousin managed to land himself in the hospital. For his cock.”

Cregan choked on his first drag, coughing out smoke. “What?” he managed between laughs. “His cock? You’re joking.”

“I swear to god,” Jace said, holding up his hand like he was taking an oath. “Apparently, he was trying to pull off some kind of…threesome, foursome, who the fuck knows, at one of those clubs he’s always getting kicked out of. Anyway, things got out of hand, and next thing you know, he’s screaming in agony and they’re rushing him to A&E.”

Cregan was in stitches, wiping a tear from his eye. “You’re telling me Aegon actually managed to break his dick?”

“That’s the rumor,” Jace replied, chuckling. “Doctors said it was some kind of penile fracture. Can you imagine? Poor bastard was probably halfway to heaven when he got dragged right down to hell.”

“Thoughts and prayers mate, that’s rough,” Cregan said, still laughing. “How the hell does that even happen?”

Jace grinned, leaning in. “Apparently, he got too enthusiastic. Girl was on top, he was thrusting up, and…” He made a snapping motion with his fingers. “Snap.”

Cregan winced, half in sympathy, half in amazement. “Fuck me, that’s got to hurt. How long’s he gonna be out of commission?”

“Couple of months, at least,” Jace replied, blowing out a stream of smoke. “He’s already whining about it all over social media. You know Aegon. Can’t suffer in silence.”

Cregan snorted. “Sounds like him, alright. Bet he’s milking it for all it’s worth, too. Getting the sympathy votes.”

“Oh, absolutely,” Jace agreed. “He’s already got half the city sending him flowers and chocolates like he’s some kind of war hero. Even Mum’s getting involved—sending him a care package like he’s gone off to battle instead of just fucking his way into the emergency room.”

They both laughed, loud and unrestrained, the way only friends who’ve known each other too long can. The kind of laughter that turns heads from the neighboring tables, but they didn’t care. They were in their own world, swapping stories, cigarettes, and coffee.

“Honestly, though,” Cregan said after a moment, shaking his head. “Only Aegon could turn a night out into a medical emergency. Guy’s got a talent.”

Jace grinned, flicking his cigarette butt away. “Yeah, but you know what they say about talent and stupidity—it’s a thin line.”

Cregan chuckled, taking another drag. “And Aegon’s crossed it, time and time again.”

“Too right,” Jace replied, nodding. “But it makes for good entertainment. Can’t wait to see how he spins this one. You just know there’s gonna be some kind of dramatic story about how he risked it all for love or some other bullshit.”

“The hero’s journey,” Cregan quipped, smirking. “Except with more broken bones and fewer dragons.”

Jace laughed. “Fewer dragons, more dick injuries. Welcome to the modern world.”

Cregan took a long drag, blowing out smoke slowly, his mind still partially elsewhere, still thinking about the G-string tucked in his pocket. Yeah, this was the kind of gossip he could get behind, but there were other things—better things—on his mind. Like how he was going to see Y/N again without Jace getting suspicious. Because if Jace found out…

Well, he’d just have to make sure Jace never did.

Jace was mid-sip on his coffee when he caught a glimpse of something on Cregan’s neck. He blinked, did a double take, then broke into a wide, shit-eating grin that could have lit up all of London.

“Oh, no fucking way,” he practically howled, slamming his coffee cup down onto the table and leaning forward. “Is that…what I think it is?”

Cregan, who had been in the middle of stubbing out his cigarette, froze. “What the hell are you on about?”

Jace pointed, still grinning like he’d won the lottery. “Your neck, you dumbass. You’ve got hickeys all over it.”

Cregan felt his stomach drop, but he didn’t let it show. Instead, he reached up, rubbing his neck as if he is already aware of them. “Oh these?”

Jace let out a loud, triumphant laugh. “Come on, don’t play dumb with me. Whoever you were with last night really went to town.”

Cregan could feel his face heat up, but he kept his expression neutral. He was an expert at this game; he’d been friends with Jace for too long to let him see he was rattled. “Maybe I just ran into a really aggressive mosquito,” he shot back dryly.

“Bullshit,” Jace cackled, smacking Cregan on the arm. “Come on, bro, spill the beans. Who was it? Who’s the lucky lady leaving marks on your neck like you’re a piece of meat?”

Cregan shifted in his seat, trying to keep his cool. He could still feel the faint burn of Y/N’s lips on his skin, and damn if that didn’t send a shiver down his spine, even now. “Just a random girl,” he said casually, waving a hand like it was nothing. “Nothing serious.”

“A random girl, my ass,” Jace scoffed, leaning closer, his grin wider than ever. “Come on, mate. I know you better than that. You don’t let just anyone mark you up like that.”

Cregan rolled his eyes, trying to deflect. “And how would you know what I do or don’t let happen?”

“Because I’ve known you for a decade,” Jace shot back, grabbing another cigarette. “You’re picky. Way pickier than me, and that’s saying something. So, whoever it was…must’ve been special.”

Cregan fought the urge to wince. If only he knew just how “special” the girl had been. He could almost see Jace’s face if he ever found out. Cregan could already imagine the explosion—the yelling, the accusations, and Jace’s unrelenting fury. Yeah, best to keep this under wraps.

He leaned back in his chair, shrugging. “You’re reading too much into it, Jace. It was just a fun night. No big deal.”

“Fun enough to leave those,” Jace said, still grinning like a Cheshire cat. “Seriously, they look fresh. Did you at least get her number?”

Cregan snorted, taking another sip of his coffee. “Nah. It was just one of those things, you know? No strings attached.”

“Huh, strings,” Jace snickered. “Or no strings…left, eh?”

Cregan’s hand twitched towards his pocket, where Y/N’s G-string was still tucked safely away. He felt a momentary thrill of panic, wondering if Jace could somehow read his mind, but his best friend’s smirk told him he was still in the clear…for now.

“Look, mate,” Jace said, putting out his cigarette and leaning in with a mock-serious expression. “All I’m saying is, whoever she was, she clearly had a good time. And you…you’ve got the evidence to prove it. But come on, give me something. I’m dying here.”

Cregan laughed, finally slapping Jace’s arm in return. “Alright, alright, fine. Maybe I’ll tell you…someday.”

“Oh, you will,” Jace replied, eyes twinkling with mischief. “One way or another, Stark, you will.”

As Cregan leaned back, smiling like he hadn’t a care in the world, he knew this was a situation he’d have to play carefully. Because if Jace ever found out the truth, those love bites on his neck would be the least of his worries.

▐░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▌

Monday arrived like a slap in the face, and Y/N was not ready. Not even a little bit. She sat at her desk, her fingers hovering over her laptop keys, but her mind was a million miles away. She was supposed to be working on some due diligence report, but instead, she was spiraling.

Full-on, out-of-control spiraling.

It wasn’t like she hadn’t had her fair share of one-night stands before. She was young, single, and sometimes she just needed to blow off steam. But this? This was different. Because it hadn’t been just anyone. It had been Cregan Stark. Her brother’s best friend. The guy Jace had practically tattooed with the words Do Not Touch where she was concerned.

And it wasn’t like she was worried about Jace finding out, not really. She was a lawyer, for fuck’s sake. She lied for a living, spun stories into gold, and could argue her way out of anything. But every time she closed her eyes, she saw Cregan’s face, felt his hands on her, and heard his deep, rumbling laugh in her ear. The memory alone sent her into a panic.

She’d needed to talk to someone. Someone who wasn’t Jace. So, of course, she’d turned to her cousin, Baela Targaryen, who was currently perched on the edge of Y/N’s desk.

“You did what?” Baela practically screeched, her voice loud enough to turn a few heads in their direction.

Y/N winced, shooting her a look. “Keep your voice down, for fuck’s sake,” she hissed.

But Baela was having none of it. She was practically vibrating with excitement, her violet eyes wide. “You slept with Cregan fucking Stark?” she repeated, but at least this time she whispered. “Holy shit, Y/N. This is…this is epic.”

Y/N buried her face in her hands, groaning. “No, it’s not. It’s a disaster. A full-blown, Jace-will-kill-me disaster.”

“Are you kidding?” Baela snorted, leaning in. “Jace doesn’t have to know. And besides, Cregan’s hot as hell. I mean, have you seen him? Those shoulders? That jawline? And he’s an athlete. A pro skier. The man probably has a body like a fucking Greek god. Why are you freaking out?”

“Because it’s Cregan,” Y/N said, exasperated. “It’s Jace’s best friend. And I’m supposed to be focusing on my career, not getting tangled up with guys I shouldn’t be touching.”

Baela rolled her eyes. “Oh, please. You’re young, hot, and brilliant. You can focus on your career and still have a little fun on the side. I mean, who hasn’t wanted to sleep with their brother’s best friend at some point?”

Y/N gave her a look. “Most people, Baela.”

“Well, most people are boring,” Baela shot back, grinning. “Look, you’ve always been the responsible one. The one with the plan, the one who does everything by the book. Maybe it’s time you let loose a little. And besides…” She leaned in, her grin widening. “How was it?”

Y/N felt her cheeks heat up, and she hated how easily Baela could do that to her. “I don’t know,” she muttered. “I mean, it was…good. Really good. But that’s not the point.”

Baela laughed, her bright, melodic sound echoing through the open office space. “Oh, that’s exactly the point. Come on, Y/N, you’re practically glowing. It must’ve been better than good if you’re this messed up over it.”

Y/N shook her head, trying to pull herself together. “It doesn’t matter. It was a mistake. A one-time thing. It can’t happen again.”

“Why not?” Baela asked, still smiling like a psychopath. “If it was so good, why can’t it happen again?”

“Because…” Y/N started, fumbling for the words. “Because it just can’t, okay? I can’t deal with the drama. And Jace will find out, and then it’ll be this whole big thing, and—“

Baela waved her off. “Jace doesn’t have to know, alright? You’re smart. You can handle it. And who knows? Maybe Cregan’s just the kind of distraction you need right now. Especially with all these dry, boring cases we’re stuck with.”

Y/N sighed, leaning back in her chair. “Yeah, a distraction is the last thing I need right now. What I need is to keep my head down and avoid any more…complications.”

“Oh, Y/N, you can do that,” Baela teased, nudging her with her elbow. “But where’s the fun in that? Life’s too short to be boring. Especially when you’ve got a Stark on your side.”

Y/N shot her a glare, but she couldn’t help the small smile tugging at her lips. “You’re not helping.”

“And you’re overthinking it,” Baela replied. “Look, you had a wild night with a hot guy. Enjoy it. Don’t spiral. Just…see what happens. You might surprise yourself.”

Y/N wanted to argue, wanted to tell Baela she was wrong, but deep down, she knew her cousin had a point. She was spiraling, and it wasn’t getting her anywhere. Maybe Baela was right.

Or maybe she’d end up in even deeper shit. But what’s done is done.

▐░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▌

Cregan slammed the barbell back onto the rack with a grunt, wiping the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. The gym was quiet on a Monday afternoon, just the rhythmic thud of weights hitting the floor, the hum of the treadmill belts, and the occasional grunt from the other athletes scattered around. It was exactly how he liked it—minimal distractions, just him and the iron.

But today, he couldn’t focus for shit.

He was supposed to be prepping, getting his body in peak condition for the winter season. Autumn was crunch time for a professional skier. Every session counted, every rep, every second shaved off his sprint time mattered. And yet, here he was, barely keeping his head in the game, because all he could think about was Y/N Velaryon.

Fuck, he needed another go.

He dropped down onto the bench, grabbing a towel and rubbing it across his face, trying to clear his thoughts. But it was impossible. His mind kept replaying the brief flashes he remembered from that night—the way she’d looked up at him, her lips parted, her hands pulling him closer, nails digging into his skin like she couldn’t get enough of him.

And the way he couldn’t remember every goddamn detail was driving him insane.

He needed a do-over. A second chance to burn the memory of her into his brain properly this time. The half-forgotten fragments weren’t enough. Not even close. He wanted to remember everything—the way she tasted, the sounds she made, the way she moved against him. He wanted to savor every moment, replay it in his mind during the endless hours of training and competition.

He grabbed a medicine ball, slamming it down against the floor with a force that rattled the nearby weights. He knew he needed to get his shit together. He couldn’t afford distractions, not now, not with the season so close. But the harder he tried to focus, the more his thoughts drifted back to her.

To the way she’d looked that morning, rushing out of his flat, her hair a mess, her dress askew, and the small, scrap of lace she’d left behind like a calling card. He felt a grin tug at his lips just thinking about it. Fuck, she’d been gorgeous. And he’d been too smashed to enjoy it properly.

“Get a grip, Stark,” he muttered to himself, slamming the ball down again, trying to burn off some of the frustration coursing through his veins.

But it was no use. No matter how many reps he did, no matter how much weight he lifted, the image of Y/N wouldn’t leave his mind. He remembered the way she’d smirked at him from across the room at that party, the way her eyes had lingered on him just a little too long, like she’d been daring him to make a move.

And, oh, he’d made a move, alright. He just wished he could remember every damn second of it.

He switched to the rowing machine, gripping the handles tightly, and started pulling with quick, powerful strokes. His muscles burned, sweat dripped down his back, but it still wasn’t enough to push her out of his mind.

The problem was, he wanted her again. He wanted to see her, touch her, hear her laugh that low, teasing laugh she had. But this time, he wanted to be fully aware of every single thing he did to her, every little reaction he could coax out of her. He wanted to watch the way her pupils dilated when he touched her, hear the way her breath hitched, see that flash of challenge in her eyes when she bit her lip.

He wanted to remember. All of it.

He needed to see her again, needed to make that happen. But how? It wasn’t like he could just call her up. She was Jace’s sister, for fuck’s sake, and Jace was already poking around, suspicious as hell. No, he’d have to be careful, play it smart. He needed to find a way to get her alone again, away from her brother, away from prying eyes.

The rowing machine beeped, signaling the end of his set, but he barely heard it. His mind was already spinning with possibilities, ideas forming as he wiped the sweat off his face.

Yeah, he’d find a way. There was no way in hell he was letting this go. Y/N Velaryon was under his skin now, and he’d be damned if he didn’t get a chance to do things right this time.

Cregan cracked his neck, a determined smile spreading across his face as he headed toward the free weights. He’d figure it out. And when he did, he was going to make damn sure he remembered every single second of it.

[cordeliawhohung]

the prowl - single dad! Price x teacher! stripper! Reader (fem) taglist

[5] guys your age

“You doing okay?” 

No matter how hard you try, you cannot get the smooth vermilion lipstick to form correctly. It’s blurry. Refuses to crisply line the ridge of your lips. Lopsided and fuzzy, you feel more like The Joker than a stripper. It’s been five minutes, and you haven’t stopped quietly cursing at yourself as you try again and again to force it to comply — there are only so many times you can repeat the same thing before the brink of insanity begins to loom in the distance. 

“I can’t get this lipstick to work with me,” you mumble. You snatch a tissue off the counter — this is your fifth one — before wiping at the corner of your mouth. After this, you’ll have to fix your foundation, too. You wouldn’t be surprised if you were missing a layer or two near the corner of your mouth. 

Chuckling, Chrys slides into the seat next to you, vibrant xanthic outfit dazzling beneath the harsh lights that line the mirrors with fat bulbs. She’s covered her skin with a glitter spray, and with her darker complexion, the sparkling reminds you of radiant stars twinkling in the sky. 

“I’m not talking about that,” she clarifies, head tilting to the side and into your field of view. “I’m talking about you.” 

Crumpling the tissue and tossing it onto the counter with the others, you turn your full attention to Chrys. She leans against the counter, hand pressed against her cheek to prop her head up as she examines you with warm eyes. You suddenly feel less opaque than ever — glass skin, bones, and organs, she can see right through you. It’s like you’ve never had a properly formed body to begin with.

“What about me?” you ask, capping your lipstick and setting it to the side. You’ll deal with that little demon later. 

“Dunno. Been worried about you since last week when you nearly bolted out of here Friday. Now, you’re shaking worse than a wet dog,” she says, eyes flickering to your jittery fingers. 

Your laugh comes out breathy and caught in your throat as you swipe your thumb across the palm of your hand. A decent layer of sweat covers your skin and you try not to grimace. Usually, you’re better at hiding your emotions than this. Teachers often time have to mask disappointment or laughter, but this is different. 

“Yeah, uhm, I guess my mind is a little occupied,” you admit. 

“Work getting to you?” she asks. “I mean your actual job, not whatever the hell this gig is. Can’t imagine having to keep up your energy to work with kids and then come here and deal with rowdy men.” 

“It’s got… something to do with work, yeah,” you nod. 

Instead of questioning you further, Chrys stares. It’s white hot, boiling the truth inside of you until it sears the pit of your stomach, and you find you can no longer hold your breath. 

“I… might have given one of my student’s dad a private session last week,” you finally reveal in a whisper. 

Glossy lips curve in on themselves as Chrys hums, head nodding as she attempts to hide whatever emotion or surprise lurking beneath her facade. “Did he recognize you?” 

“See, that’s what I’m not sure of,” you sigh. “When I entered the room, I recognized him instantly. Chrys, I can’t lie, he’s an extremely attractive man, but I wanted to run. But I was worried that if I did, he would get confused or figure out who I was, so I sort of rolled with it anyway and… and fuck.” 

“So, you gave him a dance?” she prompts you to continue as you rub at the corners of your eyes. 

“No, he had me sit with him to talk.”

“Oh. Oh, that’s worse.” 

You groan, spine curving forward until your forehead comes in contact with the cold counter. It offers little reprieve for your hyperactive brain and it’s never ending thoughts, but sweat still builds on the palm of your hands. At this rate, you might as well go home before you hurt yourself dancing — too much moisture to grip the pole properly would send you crashing in a heartbeat.

“That’s not all,” you continue. “He bought me flowers on Monday.”

“To your teaching job?” Chrys clarifies. 

You nod as best as you can before you turn so your cheek is pressed against the counter. “Had his daughter bring it in and everything. Had a note too, thanking me for helping her out when she had fallen on the playground but it seemed… I don’t know. I don’t know if I’m overthinking it or not. If this got out I could lose my job, but I can’t quit working here… I can’t live off of what the school pays me. It’s just not enough, not with the cost of living.” 

“Hey,” Chrys shushes. Her hand reaches for the exposed skin on your back where she rubs loving and soothing circles along your spine. It’s a tenderness you’d never expect to receive at The Florist’s. It calms the storm swirling in your brain, electrifying your nerves, if only for a moment. “I’m sure if he knew you would’ve found out by now. Besides, even if he did, he would have to admit where he was at in order to get you in trouble. Depending on what he does, he might not want to out himself to the school either.” 

“Unless he does it anonymously,” you retort. 

“Even then, it’s some random, faceless person’s word against yours. I’d like to think the school would have a bit more faith in you than that.” 

You take a deep breath, chest shuttering with the movement as you push yourself away from the counter. Unrelenting nervosity still grips you by the throat as that tempest builds in your mind, but you know Chrys’s words bear weight. John Price is a good man — at least, you think he is. Hopefully he wouldn’t be so willing to destroy your career, especially after thanking you with an expensive bouquet and kind card. 

“Yeah… you’re right. I just… I can’t get him out of my head. Even before he came here, I’ve had this stupid little crush on him. Like I said, he’s very attractive. But ever since then he’s just… constantly on my mind. This isn’t healthy and it’s so frustrating because I’m constantly going back and forth between some weird attraction or worrying I’ll be jobless because of him and-”

You’re spiraling. Body contorting and falling into some deep pit you’ll never crawl out of, and before you can gush further, Chrys cuts you off with a simple raise of her hand. Your mouth seals tight, tacky lipstick sticking to itself as you roll your lips out with a sigh. 

“Sounds to me like you’re living at work and visiting home,” she says with a chuckle. “You need something to do outside of work life. Something to take care of yourself, or at least take your mind off of whatever sticky mess you’ve found yourself in.” 

Defeated, you shrug. “Like what?” 

“Well, dunno about you but I prefer spa days. If not that, then Tinder,” she says flippantly. 

“Tinder?” you repeat incredulously. 

She smirks, lips curling up like a playful cat. “Going on a date would be one way to get this guy out of your head, yeah?” 

“Chrysanthemum!” 

Both of you turn your heads, snapping to the edge of the room where a technician waves his hand through the door in signal. Chrys turns back to you where she gives you a quick smile and a reassuring squeeze before standing to her feet. 

“Just think about it, yeah?” she requests before sauntering out of the room. 

You watch her leave with hips that sway in time with the clack of her heels and you groan. There’s no time for you to explain or dwell on your failed dating life. Men your age are avidulous and oftentimes dishonest in the best of scenarios. Most of the girls you had gone to university with were lucky enough to have a ring on their finger before graduation. Married, double income, and lovely homes — it’s something you can only dream of now. 

John isn’t your age. 

That thought hits you with such effusive force you nearly lose your breath. It’s… naughty. A perverted thought that shouldn’t creep into the depths of your mind, and yet it does. It grows long, swirling roots where it soaks the nutrients of the grey matter of your brain. It takes place with relentless force and refuses to let go. Judging by his looks and the air that surrounds him, he’s mid to late thirties minimum, perhaps even early forties. And you? Some new, not even tenured school teacher? 

Shaking your head, you bring yourself to your feet, chair scratching and squeaking against the tile floor as you back away from the mirror. No, you shouldn’t be thinking about that — you can’t think about that. About him. About whatever twisted delusion you’re fabricating and torturing yourself with. 

Your locker swings open with a squeak and your hands dive into the bag shoved in the back. It doesn’t take you long to fish out your phone, and it’s even shorter before you have your app downloader open. 

Downloading Tinder: 7%

If this is one of the steps you have to take to forget all about John Price, then so be it.

[littlexdeaths]

eddie munson x shy fem reader

warnings: reader is a bit insecure, little sprinkle of jealous eddie, reader wears glasses, smooching, also the finest cheese in all the land (i hope) <3

part one | part two

word count: 2.5k

a/n: this ended up bit longer than i intended so oops. but big thanks to @strangerstilinski for brainstorming some ideas with me to further cheesify the kissing scene. and another HUGE thank you to @undead-supernova for helping me with fix some things and for looking this over. I LOVE YOU BOTH <3

“What do you mean you didn’t kiss him?!”

You quickly turn to give Nancy a pointed glare before digging deeper into your locker to retrieve your biology textbook.

But really, it is a valid question.

“I— just,” you blow out an exasperated breath. “I panicked, alright? Trust me, I’m just as disappointed as you are.”

While your date didn’t end on a bad note by any means, it definitely ended on a lame one.

When Eddie dropped you off at home after the two of you spent way too much time cozying up in a corner booth at Benny’s— you weren’t entirely ready to say goodnight to him yet.

But when he walked you to your front door and carefully started to lean in, those pesky nerves got the best of you. Instead, you pressed a chaste kiss to his cheek before he had the chance to reach your lips.

Feelings of disappointment clawed at your insides once your lips brushed against the stubble on his cheek instead of his lips, your tinted chapstick leaving a tinge of pink in its wake. 

Eddie cleared his throat, carefully rubbing the back of his neck while he bid you goodnight. 

You’d barely shut the door behind you when your smile faltered and all those feelings of self doubt you’d managed to push aside all night came creeping back in. 

Everything was going so well, why couldn’t you just kiss him? It wasn’t as if you’d never kissed someone before. 

Your first kiss happened your sophomore year, with band geek Ray Howard in King Steve’s coat closet during a stupid game of 7 minutes in heaven that neither of you enjoyed. 

If you were brave enough to do that, why couldn’t you kiss the guy you actually liked? 

“Well, when are you gonna see him again?” Nancy prompts. You shrug once you slam your locker shut.

“I don’t know… I’m afraid he’s not gonna want another date. I mean, I gave him a peck on the cheek! How lame is that.”

You hug your textbooks to your chest as you head to class with Nancy, who is desperately trying to convince you that Eddie would be insane if he didn’t want to see you again.

You just hoped she was right.

When you don’t see him at lunch, you instantly deflate a little. The doom and gloom that lingers outside the school now mirrors your mood, taking any semblance of your appetite with it. You hadn’t seen him all day, so that only seemed to confirm your worries.

He’s avoiding you. What else could it be?

It’s not like him to skip out on lunch, so instead of heading further into the cafeteria you turn heel to head toward the library— 

And almost collide directly into Eddie.

His leather clad arms instantly wrap around you, a teasing smirk playing on his full lips. Lips you so desperately want to feel pressed against your own.

“Sweetheart, we really gotta stop meeting like this,” he teases, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “One of these days you’ll take both of us out.”

You let out a nervous giggle and an apology, relief filling your chest as his smile grows wider in response. Damn Nancy for always being right.

“Where are you headed in such a rush anyway?” he asks, finally letting you go, much to your dismay.

“Uh… the library. Wasn’t feeling super hungry.”

He nods, leaning his shoulder against the door frame. He looks even prettier than when you saw him on Friday. His curls are a little more unruly, his stubble more pronounced. 

And when you catch the faintest hint of cigarette smoke lingering on his jacket and how it mixes with his spicy cologne— it has your heart stuttering in your chest.

“Well, anyway, I was wondering…”

A small grunt leaves his lips as his body is forced forward, directly into yours. The jock that just shoulder checked him mutters a “watch it, freaks” under his breath before continuing past you into the cafeteria.

The shove has closed the remaining distance between you, your faces merely inches apart now. Your palms resting against his chest, feeling how his breath slightly quickens beneath your fingertips. You could so easily kiss him like this, all you have to do is tilt your head up…

But you choke, eyes darting back down nervously toward your feet when you take a small step back.

“Are you alright?” you ask, meeting his eyes once more.

Eddie doesn’t even seem phased by what just occurred, his warm eyes entirely still focused on you.

“Oh, that’s nothing, sweetheart,” he chuckles, “I can handle myself.”

Eddie motions to his torso, lifting the lapels of his jacket as if to prove his point.

“See? Not even a scratch.”

And it takes all your self control to keep your eyes from wandering lower, past the soft cotton of his shirt, over the handcuff buckle of his belt…

Focus.

“Now, what I was going to say before I was so rudely interrupted,” his voice raises in volume, eyes throwing a pointed glare towards the jocks table before they settle back on you. “Would you like to have lunch with me?”

Eddie nods towards the Hellfire table, your eyes drifting across the cafeteria. The familiar group of males are already seated at their usual spots, engaged in a heated debate over something.

“Are you sure? I wouldn’t want to intrude.”

Eddie can sense your hesitation, shaking his head as he wraps an arm around your shoulders.

“I promise they don’t bite.” He grins, beginning to lead you toward the lunch table. “Can’t say the same for me though.”

He whispers that last part, his lips playfully grazing over the shell of your ear. Eddie can feel how you shiver in response, thoroughly satisfied with himself as you try to compose yourself once you reach his friends.

The guys barely spare either of you a passing glance, still deep in their conversation when Eddie pulls up a chair for you. Right at the head of the table next to his own.

You take a seat with a polite smile, each of the members of Hellfire now noticing your presence. And they can’t hide their utter shock and surprise as Eddie takes his seat beside you. He introduces you properly, going along the table until he reaches the two youngest members of Hellfire.

“While we haven’t been able to coax Sinclair back from the dark side,” he sighs, resting his arm on the back of your chair. “You obviously know Wheeler and Henderson already…”

“Oh, Mike knows her alright,” Dustin interjects, mischievously glancing over at his best friend. “He used to have the biggest crush—”

Mike elbows Dustin in the side before he can even finish his sentence, his cheeks flushing a deep shade of red as he hangs his head.

“Would you shut it?” he hisses, already noting the way Eddie’s gaze hardens as he tugs your chair impossibly closer to his own.

“No… Henderson, please continue.”

A brow quirks up from underneath his bangs, and suddenly the whole table has gone silent, all eyes on their fearless leader.

Dustin nervously swallows, tugging at the collar of his shirt. “It was… really stupid kid stuff, not important! Just forget I even brought it up. It was just a dumb— ”

The younger male’s voice raises an octave when he laughs, his nerves shining through.

“— right, just a dumb little crush,” Mike finishes, but Eddie doesn’t seem entirely convinced.

When you suddenly rest your hand on his knee under the table, his composure begins to slip. His eyes soften when he looks down at you. The whole table is practically holding their breath, in anticipation for Eddie’s next move.

But you beat him to it.

“Someone had to be the president of my fan club, right?” you giggle.

Mike just groans in response, head falling to the table while the other guys begin to chatter amongst themselves again, that underlying tension now beginning to melt. Much like you are under the weight of his gaze.

“Well, I’d gladly take over that position, if you’d have me.”

Your breath hitches at the underlying meaning behind his words, and, god, you’ve never wanted to kiss him more than you do right now.

When Eddie slowly begins to lean in, Dustin practically gags, the chiming of the lunch bell stopping everything in its tracks.

“Saved by the bell,” he mutters under his breath.

The brunette unwillingly rises to his feet and reaches out a hand for you to take, keeping you closely tucked into his side while he walks you to your next class.

Your mind was racing the rest of the afternoon, impatiently watching the hand on the clock tick by ever so slowly— desperately waiting for the final bell to ring.

After Eddie had walked you to history, he planted a playful kiss to the back of your hand. Giving you a dramatic bow before heading in the opposite direction toward Ms. O’Donnell’s classroom. 

You were a fumbling mess once when you took your seat next to Nancy, and you could tell by the look on her face that she wanted to know everything.

So you spilled the beans during your walk to English afterwards, a plan beginning to form in your head with each step closer to Ms. O’Donnell’s.

Three failed kissing attempts was all your poor heart could take, so you spent the entirety of the last period plotting how you’d be able to get Eddie alone.

Which was how you found yourself pacing back and forth on the football field, eyes scanning the trees for any possible signs of movement. The palms of your hands are sweaty despite the crisp air, the fabric of your sneakers dampening with each step you take through the wet grass.

And you’re wondering if maybe this was a stupid idea, that maybe you heard Jeff wrong.

You knew Eddie dealt weed, the whole school did. But having never dabbled with the leafy substance yourself, you weren’t exactly sure where he made his deals at. So it was a stroke of luck when you overheard Jeff mention it in passing to Grant during English.

Something about how he was going to be late for rehearsal because some jock wanted to buy a bunch of reefer behind the football field. And who was Eddie to refuse a good sale? Especially when the douche was offering him a lot of money.

You’re abruptly broken out of your thoughts when you finally see his lanky figure emerging from the tree line and your heart kicks into first gear— about ready to burst out of your chest with each step he takes towards you.

His curls are a little damp from the mist hanging in the air, that signature dimple indenting his cheek when a smile tugs at the corner of his mouth.

And despite your nerves, it’s a welcomed sight.

“Well, I didn’t take you for a stoner, sweetheart,” he begins.

But you don’t give him the chance to give you a proper greeting before you’re springing into action. Your fingers curl into the collar of his denim vest, meeting him halfway as you lean up to press your lips to his…

Only to end up knocking your heads together instead.

A small grunt of pain leaves him and your stomach twists in embarrassment, fingers gently pressing against your forehead as you wince.

“Oh my god, I am so—”

Those words barely have a chance to slip past your lips before he tilts your chin up and carefully molds his mouth over yours. His movements are slow but steady, as if gauging your response.

Your body reacts before your mind can fully process what’s happening, instinctively reeling him in closer and pressing your lips more firmly against his own. He hums softly, the sound setting your whole body alight.

As Eddie slips one of his hands around your waist, the other reaches up to tenderly cup your cheek. And when he begins to guide you backwards, you let him. Only stopping once your back is flush against the goal post. But even then, he doesn’t stop kissing you.

You can feel the cool metal seeping through the thin layer of your jacket, causing goosebumps to rise on the surface of your skin. But even with the cool air continuing to nip at your exposed skin, you feel like you’re on fire.

His lips are like molten honey, sugary sweet and practically melting you to your core. And you swear this is the closest to heaven you’ve ever felt.

When he eventually pulls away and you take a shuddering breath in, your eyes remain closed. You’re practically on cloud nine, basking in the lingering tingles that prickle over your lips. His hand remains on your cheek, thumb brushing over where his lips just were.

Eddie suddenly lets out a deep chuckle, the sound vibrating against your chest while his breath washes over the apples of your cheeks. Only then do your eyes flutter open and you realize the reason behind his amusement.

Your vision is completely obscured, the round lenses of your glasses fogged over from the heat of his breath. You can just barely make out his smile through the frames, but the silliness of the moment has you letting out a giggle of your own.

“May I?” he asks, the tips of his fingers grazing over where the arms of your glasses meet your temples.

You nod immediately, allowing him to remove them with the utmost care. He untucks his Judas Priest t-shirt from his jeans, using the soft cotton to clear the fog away from your lenses. Even with your blurred vision, you manage to catch a glimpse of his tummy before it’s hidden away beneath his shirt again.

When his eyes flick up to meet yours, he can’t help but feel like he’s really seeing you for the first time. Not hidden away behind a book or the thick wire frames of your glasses. Just you, in all your unbridled beauty.

“Thank you,” you murmur as he carefully places your glasses back onto the bridge of your nose.

Eddie just grins, leaning his forearm on the goal post above your head. He smells faintly like weed and peppermint gum, and you really want him to kiss you again.

“How’s about I give you a ride home, hm?”

You can’t hide your smile, nodding your head enthusiastically.

“I’d really like that.”

Eddie leans down to press one more searing kiss to your lips before he slips his hand in yours and pulls you along. The two of you now walking hand in hand across the football field.

“So, sounds like I’ve got some competition with Wheeler, huh?” he teases, squeezing your hand a little tighter in his.

“Oh come on, you’ve never had a crush on a babysitter before?”

Eddie takes a step in front of you, beginning to walk backwards while simultaneously guiding you forward.

“Well… considering my only babysitter was starting to bald and my uncle,” he practically shudders, “I’m gonna say no, sweetheart.”

series taglist: @sheneedsrocknroll92 @blckbrrybasket @your-nightmaredoll @missmarch-99 @fandom-princess-forevermore @mylovelycrazyworld @princesssunderworld

[auroralwriting]

hii!! this is so random but i just read ur spencer reid x genius! reader fic and i was wondering if u could like expand on it?? or like maybe the team finding out that they went on a date and everyone is like oh gosh finally?? thank u and i love ur writing :P

wedding bells

spencer reid x genius!bau!reader

part two to the gun, can be read as a standalone

spencer and you were enemies, now, you’re just into each other. what happens when you show up to jj's wedding as each other's dates?

word count: 1.6k

warnings: the most insane amount of tooth rotting fluff (you're welcome)

thank you for this request! i decided to expand even more and connect it back to the actual episode i wrote about, 7x24 :)

It had been about two weeks since you’d gotten out of the hospital from your last case; the bank robbery. You managed to get out with a couple of stitches and bruises. You were lucky to be alive.

The one good thing that came from the whole ordeal was the fact that you and Spencer, who was your previous academic-agent enemy, had turned into somewhat of your lover.

It started with trivia night at O’Keefe’s. The two of you decided to just pair rather than join a large team, and you kicked ass. You allowed Spencer to handle more of the academic side of trivia while you took pop culture. Quite literally, you were the only team with points.

That date went so well, that you ended up going out to dinner at the new Chinese place by Spencer’s apartment. That one went great too, and a third came along, a simple date that included Spencer taking you to an art museum.

You actually got to know Spencer, and he got to know you. Sure, you’d been team mates for years, but with suck a strong rivalry, you never got to know the man. You were both eerily alike, and things were going great. There had been no cases, Strauss gave your team a break after JJ’s boyfriend had almost died, along with you.

Spencer and you were at his place watching Doctor Who when you got a phone call. You picked it up, “Hey, Rossi.” The tv was paused and Spencer was looking at you expectantly. “Mhm.. mh- Oh my god! Oh, Rossi. That’s such a good idea. Yes, I’ll be there. I’m, uh, actually with Spencer, so I’ll pass on the message.” Spencer raised an eyebrow at you as you hung up. "Okay, don't freak out, but JJ and Will are engaged."

"What!" Spencer exclaimed with a bright smile. "Oh my god!"

"And Rossi and Will are planning for the wedding to be this Friday," You continued. "JJ doesn't know yet, so we have to keep it a secret."

"Speaking of secrets," Spencer coyly began, "Does Rossi know about, well, us?"

You chuckled, "I didn't tell him, but he knows we've been together more. Significantly more,"

"I've been thinking," Spencer said. "What if we don't keep this a secret anymore."

The only reason it was a secret in the first place was because the team would freak out if they knew you were going out. "I don't think now's the best time to tell them. We don't want to steal JJ's thunder." you frowned.

"No, no!" Spencer quickly shook his head. He grabbed both your hands, rubbing them with his thumbs. "Do you want to be my date to their wedding?"

Your heart raced at his words, and you felt the heat rise to your cheeks. "Yeah, Spence. I'd love to be your date." You smiled brightly.

The wedding was only three days away, and you were quick to go out with Penelope to buy a dress. You wanted something elegant that wouldn't take away from JJ, so you decided on a flowey, burgundy-maroon dress. It was formal, but nothing too glamorous. The whole time, Penelope kept rambling about how since she and Kevin were no more, the two of you could be girl-dates. You casually agreed, not wanting to give up Spencer and your cover yet.

You'd asked Spencer if he wanted to see your outfit on Thursday, but he wanted it to be a surprise. So, with Pen, you both did each other's hair, makeup, and got ready. You arrived together at the Rossi mansion to make everything less conspicuous.

"Oh my god!" Penelope whisper yelled. "Kevin has a date--a date!" She grabbed you and dragged you to Emily and Morgan in a panic. "He brought a date, and I didn't bring a boy date, oh my god I look like an idiot!"

"Pen, you don't look like an idiot." You rubbed her arm softly. "He's the real idiot for moving on so damn fast."

Emily nodded, "And you look so gorgeous, I bet he can't help but think about you. Play it cool."

Penelope took a large sip of her drink. "I'm- I'm gonna go, go somewhere, uh, somewhere he's not."

"Hi, Penelope!" Beth, Hotch's new girlfriend, said cheerfully as she walked up.

"Hey, hi," Penelope quickly walked off.

Beth gave a soft laugh, "Hello everybody."

You smiled and pulled her into a hug, "Ex problems, don't mind her. Hi Beth, and hi Hotch. You both look great."

"Says you! You look absolutely stunning! That is so your color." Beth smiled as she took your hand to spin you around lightly.

The three of you said hello to Jack as well. As the group began to disperse, you quickly spotted Rossi. You made your way over to him, a smile on his face. Rossi was like a father to you. Growing up under his help and guidance, he was more than just a mentor. "Oh, honey. Look at you, you look so grown up."

"Dave, I've been grown up for a lot of years now." You laughed as he kissed your cheek. "Have you seen Spencer by chance?"

"Not yet," Rossi replied. He raised an eyebrow at you, studying your face. "You two are together, aren't you?"

A look of panic crossed your features. "Shh!" You quickly hushed, looking around to see if anyone noticed. When they didn't you turned back to him. "We've been going out on dates, hanging out. That sort of thing. We aren't.. boyfriend-girlfriend."

"I'm happy for you two," Rossi smiled. "You two make a good pair, especially now that you aren't planning each other's murders."

"Who was murdered?"

You turned around to see Spencer standing behind you. His eyes went wide when he saw you. The way you turned, bright eyed and graceful, it made his heart leap in his chest, especially when you looked so ethereal.

Spencer breathed your name softly, looking to Rossi. You gave a small nod, letting him know that Rossi knew. He walked over, giving you a small hug to secretly press a kiss into your hair. The two of you hadn't really kissed yet, but you knew it would happen soon.

"You're an angel," Spencer softly spoke, caressing your cheek as you smiled.

"You look amazing, too." You replied.

Rossi and Spencer gave each other a quick hello before he excused himself to go reveal to JJ that this was her wedding night. It only took a few minutes and JJ ran up to you. You hugged her before she could say anything.

"You knew?" Her voice cracked, but you knew it was from joy.

"We all did," You smiled. "Hey, while you and Will get ready, let Spence watch over Henry."

JJ's eyebrows furrowed as she watched Spencer nod quickly, giving your shoulder a squeeze with the sweetest smile she'd ever seen him give someone. "Uh-"

"Don't worry about it," You shook your head. "This is your night." When you saw JJ was about to ask again, you filled her in. "Going out on dates, not dating."

She just smiled, holding up her dress. "This is it. I wanted to ask you, actually, if you wanted to be my maid of honor? Help me get ready?"

Your eyes filled with tears, "Oh, Jayge. It would be my absolute honor." You hugged her again tightly, leading her upstairs with her mom.

It didn't take long until the ceremony began. You were already at the end of the isle, watching Spencer do a magic trick with the ring with Henry. You giggled, Spencer's eyes meeting yours as he smiled back to you.

JJ was the most beautiful bride you'd ever seen. She came up to the front and you hugged her, taking her flowers from her and standing next to Spencer and Penelope. As the ceremony went on, you found yourself tearing up. Weddings always made you cry. Spencer took notice, taking your hand and pulling you against his chest as he rubbed your arm. The team was too busy watching JJ and Will to notice.

The dancing was the best part. Penelope pulled you to the dance floor before Spencer even had a chance. You happily slow danced with her, then Derek, who stole you away. From there, Hotch had a dance with you, and then Rossi. Finally, at your favorite slow song, Spencer approached.

"Dave, would you mind?" He softly asked.

"It would be my pleasure." Dave passed you off to Spencer with one hand as Spencer slowly pulled you into his arms. If you took closer notice, you'd see him go to Strauss and begin to dance.

"Hi," You whispered, one hand in his as his other rested on your waist. Your free hand was on his shoulder. The two of you began to sway to the music.

"Hi," He echoed, giving you the softest look you'd ever gotten. "I missed you. I didn't even get a chance to dance with you."

You softly giggled, "Well, now it's yours. All yours, Spence." You leaned in closer, "You're the only one I wanted to dance with."

The position changed, both of Spencer's hands were on your waist as you wrapped your arms around his neck. This was much more intimate. "You're the only one I want, too." The double meaning made your stomach twist in the best way.

As the two of you danced, your teammates began to finally notice. "Oh my god," Derek mumbled. "Those two dumb geniuses finally got together."

"Actually, they're just going on dates," JJ corrected as she swayed with Will.

Emily smirked, "Not for long by the looks of it."

"They make such a sweet couple," Beth cooed.

Penelope gasped, "Oh my sweet baby Jesus, I took her away from him all night!"

"I'm sure he doesn't mind." Hotch smiled, actually smiled, as they all watched you lean your head on his shoulder, one of his hands coming up to the middle your back to splay out, almost protectively, holding you closer.

"I think I hear some more wedding bells in our future." Derek smiled.

[ew-selfish-art]

DpxDc AU: Soulmates only meet in the afterlife...And Danny is dead half of the time. 

It was the general consensus that Soulmates did indeed exist, and that there were a couple of hints to know if your soulmate was, but you wouldn’t know for certain until you died. This was often devastating for widows of non-soulmates but... Widows could hear the voices of and feel the phantom touches of their Soulmates. That after their loved one passed away, they didn’t truly leave them. 

Soulmates always traveled to the infinite realms together in a pair, unwilling to pass on without the other. This leads to the ghosts that seemingly never moved on and gave Danny so much grief, they needed to pass the time until their loved one died some how. 

Danny dies and feels himself talking to himself more often while transformed into Phantom, kicking butt and taking names aside. Just small things to reassure himself, nothing more than an instinct to process the situation he was in with this insane life he was living. 

I’m going to be okay, I’m going to get out of this.

I swear to all the ancients that Casper High better make a statue in my honor. 

Mom and Dad don’t mean it. 

The fundraiser to rebuild Poltergeist Avenue is going to be ridiculous.

Mom and Dad wouldn’t mean it if they really knew. 

Nasty burger really should rebrand but my goodness is this the best shit ever. 

It takes a few years to think about the fact that he might have a soulmate who could hear him- how unlikely would that be though? It’s not like he was haunting the person, so it probably wasn’t any big issue. Was there a proximity thing involved? Clockwork sighs and gives him no true answers. 

...

Tim has been hearing the voice of his Soulmate for years. Not...All the time though. He’d mapped out the time frame by which he did hear the additional male voice, accumulated enough data to determine a general profile and geotagged a few of the landmarks mentioned to find the most likely town. Restaurants, street names, highschools, and notable names all help Tim to find what he’s looking for. The concerning amount of comments on his soulmates parents make Tim’s blood boil and motivate him all the more. 

Thing is...Amity Park is under a complete media blackout. The challenge nearly makes him swoon, as if his dead soulmate were leading him towards his favorite hobby (taking down corrupt groups of assholes with too much power, cult or government, was his ideal pass time). He just wants to know who his soulmate was. He wants to know who is waiting for him. 

Arriving undercover and unannounced as a random tourist, Tim cannot find his soulmates grave. Can’t find anything about the person who died all those years ago and had spoken in his ear ever since. He’s about to storm the Mayor’s office, his plans for the GIW already in motion, when a ghost attack begins. 

Phantom arrives and suddenly Tim understands who exactly he’s been looking for. Getting into the crosshairs of the fight, Tim pulls a few RR moves and Phantom cautiously approaches him after capturing the assailant ghost. 

“I’m here because you’re my soulmate, and it’s very interesting that you only talk to me during non-business hours. Care to explain what you’re doing between 9 am and 3 pm, Monday through Friday?” 

“Uh... High school mostly. Wait you can hear me? You’re my soulmate?” 

Cue Danny de-transformation, explanation of his death and ability to die on command, and Tim’s very softball interrogation with his presentation on how he found Danny through the small conversational phrases.

They kiss as the GIW headquarters explode in the background.

[love-that-we-were-in]

betting on all three for us two

pairing: frat!luke castellan x reader summary: you think you like being a little more friendly and a little less competition with luke castellan this year. a sequel to this fic word count: 3.1k warnings: none

author's note: frat luke my dearly beloved loser son who studies pre-med this is for you you know who you are i love you

1. 

The fall semester comes at you faster than you’d like, this rapid change from a golden summer to the crisp air of being back on campus. You’re rooming with someone from an old anthropology elective you took, Silena finally moving into her sorority house. It should feel weirder, how everything has changed since spring break. 

You take the opportunity to build new habits. Early runs, no caffeine after 2pm. Little things that make the day go a tiny bit faster, building blocks to fit around your class schedule. Silena schedules weekly lunches for the three of you and there’s this gravity to it all that you want to study. 

It had been nice to be home for a few months. Your mom had missed having you there, being able to show you the new flowers she planted, how the lemon tree in the yard is twisting weirdly. Board games and family dinners and friends who never left your town. Being back home was resetting. Being back on campus was restarting.

Lee catches you as you leave the gym, offering to walk you to class if you’re heading in that direction. You smile, telling him that you have a late start and pretend he doesn’t frown when your phone buzzes. He mentions that he’s thinking of starting a study group for one of your classes and you tell him you’ll think about joining. 

While he heads towards the main building, you make your way to the campus coffee shop - caught behind the early risers desperate for something to get them through their first lecture of the day. 

“Can I get a flat white and an iced americano with caramel to go please?” You smile at the girl working the counter, stepping aside to glance at your watch.

You run through your schedule for today, ignoring the text that comes through. You know exactly what it says, the same thing every morning, and you don’t even bother to roll your eyes at this point. 

“I can’t believe you ignored my text,” Luke says when you reach the courtyard between the library and the medical building. “Not even a flame emoji.”

You stop in front of him, drinking in the jeans and sweater combination he’s settled on today. It’s a really nice sweater, dark blue and a little baggy. You wonder how quickly he’d notice it going missing. Probably not as quickly as he’d notice the stupid hat he’s wearing go missing. His backpack leans against the bench, pristine.

“No one uses those except you,” you shake your head, handing him the iced drink. “What time does your lecture start?” 

Luke tells you as if he really needs to. It’s this thing you’ve started doing since the semester began, acting like you don’t know his schedule as well as your own. As if the both of you haven’t fallen into this routine in just a few weeks. Like it’s not a highlight of your day. 

Clarisse thinks it’s adorable. Chris thinks it’s hilarious. You think it’s nice to have someone to share your free time with, beyond whatever else you and Luke have. It had been a fear of yours, when Silena mentioned not sharing a dorm with you, that you would fall to the sidelines. That life would come with these new priorities for everyone and you would only be fourth or fifth on their lists, too cemented in the day-to-day that you’d be forgotten.

Morning coffee with Luke stops that fear. 

“Did Silena tell you about the party on Friday?” 

“I have a study group in the afternoon,” Luke says, swirling his plastic cup around so the ice clinks together. “If I do go, I’m showing up late.” 

“Maybe I’ll keep my eye out for you there, Castellan.” 

He laughs and it’s like summer again. There’s something insane about hearing Luke laugh like this, unbroken and loud, nothing like it had been over the phone while you were back home. 

“You’ve got dinner with Silena and Clarisse tonight, right?” He asks, swinging his bag over one shoulder. You throw your empty cup into the trash can as you both start walking. “Is there any point in asking if you want to come round after?”

You knock his arm with your shoulder, laughing, and, instead of feigning hurt like usual, Luke just takes your hand in his, the skin a little colder than you expect. Gazing down at your linked hands, you bite your lip before sighing. 

“If I’m home before eleven, I’ll consider it.” 

Last year, when you first met him, you thought Luke only got that determined glint in his eyes when he was competing. That it was a sign of an unanticipated thrill. Since then, you’ve learnt that it’s not that at all. It’s this thing that ignites within him, determined and passionate and a little boyish. 

You think it might be one of your favorite things about him.

“I will take that deal.”

2. 

You wish you could say you were a little drunk. At least that way you would have something to blame. As it stands, you’re stone cold sober, maybe a little tired from class but nothing that can really be blamed for the lack of weight your actions seem to have right now. 

The only thing you can blame, and you will, is the boy next to you, completely engrossed in the movie playing. They’d been watching it when you arrived, all settled on the couches and you assume this is something they do regularly, and at any other time you might’ve called it cute. 

Not tonight. Not when you walked in to the discovery that Luke wears glasses and you didn’t know about it. It was something you played off, making a joke and settling into the cushions beside him. In the time since, Chris has left for his date with Clarisse and Charlie has pulled out some work to go through in the corner of the room. 

“What’s up?” Luke asks when he realizes you’ve hardly moved in ten minutes, barely even breathing. And it’s the worst possible thing he could do, glance down through the frames with that small smile you’ve gotten used to and curls loose. 

“Nothing’s up,” you let your eyes trail back to the screen. “This is a very cute tradition you guys have going on.” 

Charlie lets out a little laugh from across the room. You feel the way Luke exhales against the side of your face. You think you’re able to go back to pretending everything is normal, make a joke and enjoy the rest of the movie. The second you feel Luke’s fingertips on the skin of your knee, gentle and warm, you know you can’t. 

“You’re swerving,” he whispers, throwing a quick glance at Charlie to see if he can hear but the other boy is engrossed in his work. “Talk to me.” 

“It’s nothing,” you bite the inside of your cheek when he nods encouragingly, incredibly aware of the patterns he’s tracing on your skin. “I just think it’s interesting that you’d choose to wear a hat all the time when the glasses are right there.” 

“What?”

His hand stills and you wait. You wait and you stare at the shape of his jaw and you chuckle when it finally clicks, his adam’s apple shifting as he swallows the conclusion down. “Are you saying you like my glasses?” 

You don’t like how uneven this all feels. Whenever you’ve been with Luke so far, there’s been this mutual balance that you’ve grown used to. Even before now, back when you were locked in silly competitions, you did it on even footing, the expectation that everything meant nothing and you wouldn’t be affected. 

This, the way Luke grins around the realization, hand moving to rest on your thigh, is different. It’s heavier. It’s a loss after a winning streak and you’re kind of obsessed with the way it could drag you down. 

“I just think that hat is stupid.” 

“Yeah, okay,” Luke nods and you know, even if he doesn’t do it outright, he’s laughing. He’s categorizing the information you’ve just given him, placing it where it belongs in his mind, and it’s going to bite you in the ass. “Tell me more.” 

“Luke,” you mutter, gritting your teeth. His fingertips brush against the hem of your shorts and, when you glare at him for it, he just shrugs. You throw a glance over in Charlie’s direction. Still nothing. “Are you insane?” 

He tilts his head like he’s considering the question carefully. If Charlie were to look over, you know he’d assume you were locked in a debate about something silly - a staple of you and Luke - and it wouldn’t matter. He wouldn’t know for a second that you were holding onto Luke’s wrist, his hand itching to move just a little to the left. 

You sigh and the boy beside you raises an eyebrow. You both know that you’ve lost this round. 

When you press your lips to his bicep as the film credits roll, warm even through the fabric of his shirt, you mumble, “I really like your glasses.” 

3.

You aren’t used to watching things from a crowd. You’re used to focusing on yourself, on your team - not watching from a distance, surrounded by people who are there purely for enjoyment. There’s no winning from the stands. 

Luke doesn’t know you’re here. You’d sent him a text that morning wishing him luck, arranging to meet him when his debate was over. You hadn’t bothered to message him when your afternoon class got canceled, choosing instead to race across campus and find a seat in the dim auditorium they’re using. 

There isn’t the crackle of energy you get from swimming, or from watching Luke during track sessions. It’s less intense, for sure, a balance between the fire you know exists within him when he’s competing and the confidence he has in his own intelligence. You’ve argued with Luke, stupid things that neither of you care to take too seriously, and this is just the next stage of that. 

He’s got his glasses on, you note, when the debate gets underway. He’s wearing his lucky green polo, even if he’d never personally call it that, and he’s switched his smartwatch out for an analogue one. The cheap biro you’re used to seeing him use has been replaced by a fancy silver pen that he still taps against his thigh while thinking. He’s sitting straighter than usual, shoulders back. 

It’s almost like meeting him for the first time, focused and confident and sharp at the edges. 

You’re kind of obsessed with it. 

An hour and a winning handshake later, you make your way through the small crowd leaving to find Luke in conversation with one of his teammates. She smiles as you wrap an arm around his waist from behind, the slight tension still lingering in his bones melting away when he realizes it’s you. 

“What are you doing here?” He says, turning enough that he’s actually facing you now. The girl waves you both goodbye. “I thought you had class.” 

“Professor Chase had to cancel. His daughter got sent home from school with a fever.” 

Luke nods, pressing his lips to the top of your head quickly. “You didn’t have to come to my debate.” 

In the few months you’ve known Luke, you’ve learnt more about him than you expected to. You know from summer that Connecticut means looking after his sick mother, that he’s hoping to introduce some new charity events to ksig, that he used to go to a summer camp growing up. You know that his dad never showed up for anything and that he sits in the stands of all of your swim meets regardless of whether it cuts into his study time or not.

More than all of that, you know that the way he’s gazing at you now, a cross between awe and something deeper, is going to drive you crazy one day. You hope he can read the same expression on your face. 

“Thank you for coming,” he says when everyone is finally dismissed, an arm thrown across your shoulders as you make your way out of the building. You loop a finger around one of his, just because you want to. “It means a lot.”

“I told you I would,” and you had, months ago, staring at Luke’s bedroom ceiling, back when you were still caught in the casualness of it all. When Luke was just someone you pretended you weren’t trying to bump into at parties. You’d told him that you would show up for him if you ever got the chance. He’d rolled his eyes, throwing a blanket over you both and told you to go to sleep. He’d drifted off with his nose pressed against your neck. “I keep my word, Castellan.” 

“I know.”

In the evening light of campus, you think it might mean something more. Buried under the timing and the bitter wind until it’s a promise only you and Luke could translate. Asking him about where he wants to go for dinner, you like that no one else could understand the depth of it. 

+1.

Silena catches your attention as you enter the kitchen, grinning wildly and explaining her concept for tonight. Drew gave her permission to throw this week’s party, something themed and fun and it’s something she’s so proud of that you can’t help but grin back at her energy. 

“Even Charlie came,” she tells you excitedly, handing you a drink. “I feel like tonight is going to be it.” 

In all the years you’ve known her, she’s been counting down to it. You don’t exactly understand the fundamentals of what it is, if it’s a real thing or something she can just sense intrinsically. There have been moments where she’s thought of it before, mentioned it offhandedly before shaking her head - as if knowing she was wrong. 

“What even is it?” You ask and, for the first time, she breathes deeply instead of shrugging it off. 

“The beginning of the end,” she says and that doesn’t exactly explain anything. “Everything is about to change.” 

You still don’t really get it, but she’s as confident in this as she is about her clothes, so you nod like you understand. She sends you away not long after that, turning her attention to the new group that’s just walked through the doorway, mentioning that you need to be in the basement in about an hour and you just accept your fate, moving into the next room and falling into conversation with Rachel. 

*

Luke slips into the basement just as Silena starts yelling for everyone to do so, catching your eye across the room and waving. When you’re all instructed to sit down in a circle, you wonder exactly what Silena has planned for tonight. When she places a near empty bottle down in the center of you all, you laugh. 

“Are we actually playing spin the bottle?” Chris asks, prompting a murmured chorus of agreement from everyone else in the room. Silena frowns at him. 

“Wanna bet he ends up getting the most into it?” Luke whispers in your ear and you raise an eyebrow at him. “Loser has to buy the coffee tomorrow morning.” 

“You’re on,” you bump your fist to his to seal the deal. “I think he’s gonna get bored by round 3.” 

“Only boring people get bored of this game. It’s about drive.” 

“It’s about power?” Luke lets out a laugh and Silena turns her glare to you. “Sorry.”

She starts to explain the rules of the game, as if you’re all twelve again, and you bite your lip harder with every comment Luke makes under his breath. It’s a little mean, a little stupid, and you wish you were fifteen again, playing a proper game of spin the bottle for the first time.

Nothing much happens for the first few rounds, Chris starting to grumble the longer the game goes on. Luke clicks his tongue when you point it out, cursing his best friend like this was the worst thing that could’ve happened to him. 

Lee spins and it’s like cosmic interference when the bottle stops between you and Luke, the two of you glancing at each other and then back towards Lee. 

“Should I spin it again?” Lee asks when no one says anything. Silena shakes her head and says, “You can choose or we can vote if that makes you more comfortable.” 

“Please let us vote,” Chris shouts, animated and you narrow your eyes at him, ignoring the smug smile Luke gives you. “I’ll never ask you for anything ever again.” 

Lee glances between you both again, at where your knee rests against Luke’s thigh and the beer you’ve been sharing for the past twenty minutes sits between you. “It might be better to vote.” 

“Sure,” Silena smiles before silencing you all. “Everyone that wants Lee to kiss Luke, raise your hands.” 

You raise your hand and Luke mumbles beside you, flicking your leg and you poke him in return. Anything to avoid kissing Lee Fletcher after two years of avoiding it. 

“That is an overwhelming majority,” Silena says and you know, just by the way her eyes slide over to you, that she didn’t even bother to actually count. “Lee, you may now kiss Luke.” 

There’s this moment where you think Lee is going to just leave but instead he stares at the boy next to you, the relaxed set to his jaw, the annoying baseball cap on his head, how he’s so unbothered by it all. You watch as something clicks in his mind, you really want to know what it is. 

Whatever it was, it makes him grab the bottle again, ignoring Silena’s protests. It lands on the girl from Luke’s debate team and she straightens her back ever so slightly. 

“Silena,” Lee says as he leans towards the girl. “I’m not going to kiss Luke or his girlfriend.”

“Damn straight,” Luke mumbles, grabbing your hand from your lap and holding it in his instead. It’s stupid and it really doesn’t matter to either of you, you know that, but there’s this way he says it - almost like it’s the worst thing he could’ve imagined - and it settles in your gut with the beer you’ve been drinking. “Me or my girlfriend.”

“I’d really like to meet her,” you say, laughing when he huffs and pulls his hat down on your head. When you push the visor up to see him properly, all rosy cheeks and compacted curls, you think you might have found it. Whatever it is.

Based on the way Luke’s nose scrunches and his eyes crinkle, you think he understands that too. 

[spacerockfloater]

“I mean, Meleys is a beloved dragon.” — Ryan Condal, House of the Dragon, S2 E4 “The Red Dragon and the Gold” Director on Meleys’s head being paraded around King’s Landing

Why? Why would she be beloved? What has the dragon done to be loved? How do the common folk even know who she is? Do they make fancards of their favourite dragons? Do they have an official dragon website containing all the info that they check on a regular basis? Does it automatically update every Friday? Is Meleys like a mascot to them? Did she help them grow their crops? Literally, what?

“They’re the symbol of House Targaryen!” okay and why the fuck would they care about their colonisers’ sigil? What the fuck is this forced love for the Targs? Aegon’s Conquest happened 120 years ago. There’s no way these folks have forgotten that, as Cregan’s snide remark to Jace about his ancestor threatening his proves. The insinuation that the people of Westeros loved their oppressors is insane because imagine going out of your way to say shit like “No actually, the peoples of African loved the English and the French, they helped them evolve and stuff!”. He would have been rightfully stoned. The small folk canonically hate these fucking nuclear lizards, that’s why they kill them later on.

Did we all forget the mass murder Meleys committed during her escape, or does Condal simply not consider the episodes he did not write himself to be canon, lol? Is his beef with Sara so great that he’ll just ignore everything she added? And for those saying that the smallfolk wouldn’t be aware of this act because only a few hundreds died and news can’t spread fast there because they have no BBC: are you actually telling me the people might be unaware of a literal terrorist attack, but the execution of the rat catchers was what shocked them to their core? What?

I’m getting so tired of this series.

[lesservillain]

inmate!eddie munson x teacher!reader

cw: drinking, explicit fantasies

September 16th,1994 

The idea to you was asinine from the moment Principal Williams brought you into her office to explain the program details to you. How no one else thought that the idea of thirteen-year-olds becoming “pen pals” with prisoners wasn’t insane baffled you. It was dangerous at worst and inappropriate at best, but,  despite your best efforts to reason with her, your opinion as a “newer” teacher was dismissed. 

Now here you are listening to the speech of the prison rep, Mr. Bridges, as he explained the program to your 7th grade class. Not like you had a lesson planned for them today.

Mr. Bridges stands a whole 5 feet and 6 inches with a short stack military fade and the most unsettling sunny disposition. He reads as incredibly fake, like a snake oil salesman, and his shiny, white, slightly too big for his mouth veneers not doing him any favors. It doesn’t surprise you that your newly divorced principal was able to be persuaded by this guy's charms, but thankfully you’re used to his kind of tactics from your own previous relationship. 

Before leaving, Mr.Bridges approaches you at your desk. “I’m sorry to bother you,” he starts, leaning too far into your space. One of his thick fingers points at a paper he had given you before he started his speech, “but is a student absent today? We have an unassigned inmate—”

“We had a student move,” you say shortly, keeping your voice monotone and not bothering to glance at his paper, “so I’m short one student in this class.”

Bridges nodded, clearly deep in thought. His brows furrowed for a moment before perking up. 

“Maybe you’d like to take on a pen pal?’” He proposes, his chipper disposition coxing on the migraine that wants to break through behind your eye.

The look on your face must have said it all as he tried to convince you further. “The inmates that signed up are all trying to better themselves before being re-released into society, ya’know?” His eye’s shift, landing on the floor with a solemn look. “We thought talking to kids that grew up while they were incarcerated would help them get in touch with the times, be able to cope with time they’ve lost. Give them something to look forward to when they get out.” 

The pads of your fingers dig into your temples, eyes rolling to the back of your head before finally giving him the eye contact he so desperately craved from you. 

“Fine, I’ll take whoever you have left, I guess. What’s his name?”

“Perfect!” Bridges hands clap together next to your ear, “The leftover inmate wants to go by The Banished One and he—”

“Banished what?” You ask, confused.

“Oh, The Banished One! It’s his nickname for the project. We have all the inmates disguise their names just in case the kids may be related to one of them.”

“Oh my god,” you groan, resting your head in your hand, “Okay, fine, sure I guess that makes sense.” 

 Bridges continued to assure you that all the letters are anonymous and would be vetted both ways, adding that only ‘good behavior’ inmates were allowed to take part in the program as a last push for your participation, you reluctantly agreed. Mostly just to get him to leave your classroom before your head explodes, but not without the stipulation that if you thought it was too much for your kids that you would pull them out. That seemed to be enough to satisfy him.  

October 7th, 1994 

The first writing session took place on a Friday, the soft sound of music from your mixtape playing for the kids to help them relax. It had been a long week of testing and you felt like an easy day was in order for both you and the kids, most of your other classes would just be doing free work. 

You grabbed the stack of letters from your desk, Pictures of You by The Cure filling the air as you hand each student their respective letter. 

“Don’t forget to keep personal information like names and where you live out of your letters. Once you’re done, bring them to my desk.”  

Once the kids were settled, you returned to your desk and grabbed your own letter. The envelope before you had “Teach” written across the front, the pen name you chose to go by. The handwriting was like chicken scratch. Not much different from the 13 year old boys whose papers you grade, though, so you were confident in your ability to decipher the rest of the letter. But still had a roughness, an edge to it.  

As you opened your letter, unfolding the paper to it’s full state, the first thing to catch your attention was the graffiti like drawings along the margins of the paper. It reminded you of a flash sheet at the tattoo shop your friends took you to for your 21st birthday, a permanent reminder of that day on your inner ankle in the form of a small butterfly that was already starting to fade. There was nothing too offensive; a rose, a sailor ship, a dove with an olive branch, all impressively done for just being pen on paper. 

Once you got past the artwork, you began to take in the letter's contents. The single page was filled from front to back, barely any room for the signature at the bottom.

“Hey there, “Teach”... if that is your real name…” the letter starts. The lame opener makes you crack a small smile that you quickly cover with your hand. You read on, taking in each sentence, and you start to get the idea that your pen pal doesn’t take this pen pal assignment too seriously. 

The letter is casual, a few puns here and there, with some Tolkien references that would have been missed if one wasn’t familiar with his work. It’s clear that this person is young, or at least young at heart, which saddens you to think about, but you try not to dwell on it. 

Getting into the meat of the letter, your pal explains that went to prison in 1989 for drug related charges, but is set to get out in about a year if he keeps up his good behavior.

 “I’m ready to get out of this place and get back to my hometown in Hawkins.” 

A shiver goes down your spine for a moment when you read that he’s from Hawkins. Bridges assured you that the inmates wouldn’t know what school the kids would be from, but you weren’t expecting to be talking to someone from this small town. You wonder if Bridges knows more than he’s letting on with his comment about the kids being related to the inmates.

Once the creepy feeling dissipates you continue to read on. The details your pal gives about himself tell you that he’s very different from the people you usually hang out with. His favorite genre of music is metal and he used to play guitar and do vocals for a band every week before he started working as a mechanic full time. They’d have a crowd of 20 or so some nights, but it was usually just the regulars at the place they would play at. 

The final paragraph of the letter consists of a seemingly scripted warning about the dangers of drugs and that no one should make the same mistake he did. You wondered if this was obligatory for the project. At the bottom of the page your pal signs with his chosen moniker “The Banished One.” When thinking about it, you find that it’s very fitting for an inmate.  

After taking a moment to check in on your class, Morrissey’s somber voice serenading them as  “I Know It’s Over” plays from the small radio’s speakers, you pull out your own pen and paper to start your response.

 As you ponder on where to start, a thought that crosses your mind; does your pen pal even know they’re talking to an adult? The pen name you chose might be on the nose but you didn’t want to assume. Granted, your handwriting itself may be a dead giveaway if you were to compare it to a teens.  

It took you a couple of tries to start your letter. Instinctively, you wanted to be formal, but the longer you thought about it the more you didn’t want to come off as a boring writing companion. You tried and failed to come up with something witty to match the vibe of your pal, but comedy wasn’t your strong point, though you’d argue that it wasn’t his either. Instead, you approached it as if you were writing to a friend.  

“Hello! Nice to meet you “Banished One." Though, it sounds like you won't be banished much longer.” 

Erring on the side of caution you chose to only respond directly to things he wrote, slipping in that you also enjoyed the works of Tolkien with your own reference. You mention that you listen to metal from time to time, more into radio rock at the moment, but you’d really listen to anything.

 It took you a minute to calculate how to respond to the reveal of his dealings in drugs, ultimately deciding to lightly say that you hoped he learned his lesson unless he saw himself returning to prison in the future. You shared that you were familiar with Hawkins, noting that you loved the milkshakes from the old diner in town, but left it at that. As you closed the letter you complimented his artwork, informing him that the rose was your favorite and that you looked forward to seeing his artwork on future letters.

You’d manage to write enough to cover the majority of the back of your lined paper, signing your pen name a few lines away from the bottom. Going over your letter again, you can't help feeling like it’s a bit dull. Safe, but that’s what it's supposed to be.

October 24th,1994 

It only took two weeks for Mr. Bridges to return with new letters for your class. Truthfully, you had almost forgotten about the letters entirely while trying to keep your students on track as the holiday season approaches. The emotional whiplash of seeing your ex out with his new, younger girlfriend while you were out looking for Halloween decor for your apartment wasn't helping either. It felt like no matter what you did, how much your friends tried to help, you just couldn’t catch a break. At least the manager of the local liquor store was nice to you. 

When your students seemed too preoccupied with the stack of letters on your desk to pay attention to your lecture, you decided to call it a day and give all of you a break. You click on your small stereo and let the tune of Jeff Buckley’s Hallelujah take over the room while you pass out letters. 

Once the letters were distributed, you settled at your desk where your eyes met with the same chicken scratch handwriting as before. It was tempting to reach for it… until you glanced at the pile of ungraded papers that sat next to it, taunting you. You desperately needed to go over them, the deadline to turn in grades fast approaching.

You deliberated on what to do. You had to admit you were curious about the letter. Part of you wondered if you’d even get one back. You didn’t want to give any personal information away, so you couldn’t blame the random man in prison for not responding if he thought he was talking to an old lady teacher. 

But the stack of papers is practically glaring at you.

A thought; you could always finish your papers later at home. But you did tell yourself you would be better at bringing so much work home with you this year…Your friends had an influence on that decision, making sure you took at least every other weekend to go out and do something — anything to keep you from shutting yourself in again. 

With a sigh, you tuck the letter into your work bag, grabbing your pen to start grading.

“Damn it, why can’t I find one stupid pen!” 

Slamming drawers and stomping around, the red liquid of your cup sloshing around in your glass as you grew more and more frustrated in your search for a pen to write out the checks for the coming month’s bills. 

After searching the kitchen, you make your way to the living room and spot your school bag on the coffee table. In your rage, you slam the glass on the table and begin haphazardly pulling the contents out of the bag, praying you still had a pen that hadn’t been “borrowed” to never be returned by one of your students. 

The feeling of plastic on the tips of your finger almost brought you to tears of joy. Pulling out a purple ink pen you decided that it would have to be good enough if your landlord wanted your rent on time. 

After finishing with the checks, you return to your bag to put the envelopes inside to drop off tomorrow at the post office. As you lift the bag, your eyes meet with chicken scratch again away. A burst of buzzed excitement runs through you at the sight, even if for just a moment before you shook it off. It was just an envelope from some random man sitting in a jail cell, why are you getting so excited? Is it because you’re at home and not feeling the pressure to be uptight and rigid? 

Or maybe it’s because you can’t remember the last time you received a letter that wasn’t a bill. It sort of gave you a feeling of nostalgia, taking you back to a time when you wrote letters to your mom when you were at camp, or when you would write to your grandparents around the holidays. It even reminded you a bit of writing in your diary, if your diary could write back that is. It’s not like he would have room to judge you from his jail cell, right?

You snatch the letter from the bag and walk back into the kitchen, grabbing the dark bottle of wine to refill your glass and plopping down at the table. Ripping open the envelope, you pull out the letter and immediately notice that it is covered in artwork just as the last one was.

This time you notice a 20-sided dice with a banner that read “critical hit”, a very detailed dragon head, and a stylized version of the skeleton guy that you’ve seen on the cover of Iron Maiden albums. The biggest piece was of another rose, but in the fully bloomed center was an eye. It was…interesting. Well done, but not what you were expecting. Not that you were expecting anything anyway.  

Getting the artwork out of the way, you take a large sip of your drink and begin reading.

“Hello again, Teach,” the letter starts, “I think we need to discuss the elephant in the room before I can write anything else.” Your brow quirks up, a slight nervousness begins to creep in your mind. 

“I was already suspicious when I was told the person I was writing to wanted to go by Teach. And no seventh grader I’ve ever known can write as nicely as you. Not that I know a lot of seventh graders...Anyway, can I ask how I ended up being pen pals with the class teacher? I know I could ask Bridges, but I think it would be more fun to hear it from you.” 

Your lips tug into a smile, but this time you don’t feel the need to cover it. Why did it feel like a game he won or a riddle he solved? It wasn’t exactly like you were hiding it. But something about him figuring out something about you was…exciting.

As you get into the meat of the letter itself he goes on to ask you what subject you teach and how long you have been teaching. He asks if you like working with kids and if they ever made you want to pull your hair out. The phrasing of his words make you giggle. 

“I was never good in school,” he states. “It took me three tries of my senior year to graduate. I used to blame my teachers saying that they didn’t like the way I dressed or my taste in music. I guess now I have to admit that it was probably because I didn’t bother to show up to class or do any of my homework…” 

A full laugh shook you in your chair. Was he actually funnier in this letter? And why did it come off feeling so personal? The air about it was different, like you were talking to a long-distance friend rather than a felon, your cheeks starting to ache from smiling as you continue read his sketchy handwriting.

He went on to ask more about you, like what your favorite band was since you “liked rock so much more than metal,” with a little frowny face to punctuate his disagreement. He says the prison lets them watch MTV sometimes, which has been his main exposure to new music. Sometimes he gets a hold of new music every once and a while, but usually just listens to his old cassettes on his Walkman that his uncle gave him when he first entered the system.

“Some people have tried to steal it from me, but they learned pretty quickly that I have my ways to get things back, and that I'm not one to be messed with.”

That left you curious. A small glimpse into the inner workings of prison. You never really thought about what a person in prison could or couldn’t have. It was nice that he could have at least a small luxury, an item of value if it was under constant threat of being taken. You also couldn’t help but wonder what he meant by not being messed with.

Before you know it you’ve hit the end of the letter. You can’t help but feel a little disappointed. It felt like there could have been so much more to say, but his pen name barely fit at the bottom of the paper as it is. You take a piece of paper out of your notebook, pulling the frayed pieces off the edge and replacing the one in front of you with it.  Hopefully your pal won't mind the purple pen or the probable lack of coherence compared to your first letter as you feel the wine really start to kick in.

Referring back to the paper like a student answering a question in class, you make sure to answer all of his questions to the best of your ability.  

“Hello again, Mr. Banished. I see you have uncovered my secret that I am, in fact, a grown woman and not a 13-year-old. I hope that doesn’t bother you. I have been teaching English since I graduated college, coincidentally in 1989. It's like we traded places; I got to leave the prison of being a student in college and you went to prison for whatever drug related charges you acquired.” You laughed at your own joke as you continued. 

“As for why you are stuck with writing a late 20’s school teacher rather than one of my students, that would be because of the aforementioned Mr.Bridges. We had a student move a few weeks into the school year and Bridges practically got on his knees and begged me to take on a pen pal.” You left out the detail of not being totally comfortable with the program. Not that you weren’t still hesitant, but the last thing you wanted to do was offend him by insinuating anything about the type of person he was for being in jail. The wine had rationalized with you that sometimes good people do bad things when they’re in dark places.

Continuing on, you wrote that he was probably right in both his opinions on why his teachers failed him. The older teachers at your school were stuck in their ways and judged students before really trying to help them. You did your best not to be the same way, hoping to be a teacher that your students could trust and come to if they needed help. It was a passion of yours since you were small, wanting to help people learn and grow, so what better way to do that than to teach?

“I am interested in what you wore that would call for such harsh judgment. I try to be as unbiased as I can with all my kids. If you asked them, they would say that I’m stuffy or rigid most of the time, but it’s mostly because I care about their education. And partly because being a new teacher is…really freaking tough if I’m being honest. These older teachers don’t take half of the things I say seriously because their own kids are older than me. It’s kind of bullshit, actually, but I just deal with it until I can get more experience under my belt.” 

A sigh slips through your lips, pen tapping against the kitchen table as you feel the frustration bubbling. It’s not fair to dump these feelings on him, but the anonymity made it so easy to just put everything out there. He doesn’t know anything about you, and if you were to weird him out by getting a little real, then he could just not write back, right? 

After taking a moment to collect yourself, you decided to just move on to a different topic. 

“Sorry, that was a lot of feelings on my part. Is it too personal to ask what you do in prison? You mentioned getting to listen to music, but what else do you do? I’ve seen in movies that inmates work out a lot and play basketball outside. Is that real or made up for the audience? If it is real, does that mean you are super buff from working out all the time? Do you beat people up if they try and take your Walkman, or do you stab them? I’ve seen people do that in movies, too. I hope you don’t stab them, that would be scary.” 

You can feel yourself getting a bit rambley in your tired state, so you decide it’s time to call it a night. You wrap up the letter by telling him that you’re going to go to sleep and that you were looking forward to his next letter. You sign your name and draw a small doodle of a flower next to it.

November 18th,1994

It was 3 am when you woke up the first time. A nightmare had you shooting up from your pillow, cold sweat drenched the collar of your sleep shirt, chest heaving as you caught your breath. 

He had been knocking at your door, your pen pal. You never saw his face, but heard the anger in his voice as he yelled for you to let him in. You remember sitting in front of the door begging for him to leave you alone, telling him it was too soon. That you weren’t ready.  

The nightmare became reoccurring, waking you at least 2 or 3 times a week. Sometimes it’s your ex, but most of the time it’s your pen pal. Even though you have no inkling of what he looks like, you just know it’s him on the other side.

The disturbance in your sleep was starting to affect your daily life, one of your coworkers asking if you were okay after over pouring a cup of coffee in the teacher’s lounge.

“Are you okay?” Mr.Clarke asks, helping you mop up the spilled coffee with some paper towels.

“Yes, I’m sorry, yeah,” you say, trying and failing to reassure him.

“Hey, I know that midterms can be rough with the holidays coming up. But, try not to stress out about it too much. I’ve heard good things about you from the kids in my classes that have you this year. You’re doing a good job, so don't kill yourself, okay?”

It was damn near impossible not to burst into tears at your coworkers words, but you held it together until you could hide in the faculty restroom.

The dreams didn’t stop though. Even Mr.Bridges felt the need to comment.

  “Holidays stressing you out?” he asked with an energy that seemed inhuman to you, his sunny disposition could make the snow outside melt.

“No.” You stated shortly as you looked through your lesson plan for the day.

“Well, that’s good to hear,” he said with a nod, “This is the most wonderful time of the year after all. We try to stay busy at the prison, keep the morale high and what not.” 

He placed the stack of letters on your desk, along with a small box that read “Greeting Cards” with a wintery scene displayed on the front. 

“These are for the students to give to the inmates.” You look at him with “no shit” written on your face. He cleared his throat, “But, uh, I’m sure you could figure that out. I know this time of year can be hectic for everyone, but we all deserve some holiday cheer, right?” Your expression remains unchanged as he continues on.

“Right, well, I’ll be giving the inmates their own cards to send to the kids with their letters. It might be a bit difficult for me to come back before Christmas, family affairs to attend to and all that. So, I went ahead and wrote the address and stamped the envelopes for the cards. If I don’t come back by, oh, let's say the 15th? Just go ahead and stick those in the mail and I’ll make sure the inmates get them!” 

Before you could protest having to go out of your way to do his job, Mr.Bridges quickly made his exit as the warning bell rang, wishing you a happy holiday as he disappeared. 

With the lack of free class time as you all crammed for test week, you decided to let the kids take their letters and cards home for the weekend to work on. As you passed them out, keeping the addressed envelopes in the box, you told the kids to write something nice in their cards. 

“This may be the only card some of these men get, so think about that when you’re writing them this weekend.”

Getting to the last letter, you feel your stomach twist as you read your actual government first name in the familiar chicken scratch handwriting instead of your pen name. You hadn’t even realized that you had stopped dead in your tracks until the sound of the bell brought you back to your body. 

“U-uh, ge--get your letters done by the end of class Tuesday!” You yell over your class as they begin migrating out of the room.

Quickly, you return to your desk and rip open the letter. Unsurprisingly, it’s once again covered in artwork. The pumpkins and bats and other Halloween inspired art felt out of place, putting in perspective how long it had been since your last letter. But before you could look much further into the writing your next class began to file in, forcing you to set the letter aside for later. 

You’d felt nauseous the rest of your morning classes, You wracked your brain about how the hell your pen pal could have figured out your actual name. You may have been...a little tipsy when you wrote that letter a month ago, but you’re sure you didn’t say anything personal enough that he would know who you were. Could he have asked someone on the outside to look into you? No, Mr.Bridges assured you that the inmates don’t know what school they are writing to. Maybe Bridges said your name to someone at the jail and the inmate overheard?  

As soon as the bell rang for your lunch period, you practically rushed your students out the door and closed it. Throwing yourself into your chair, you grab the letter and begin reading. 

“Well, well, I wasn’t expecting to be getting more lore in your newest letter! You have a very cute name by the way…Sorry I hope that wasn’t weird. Anyway! I guess I can tell you my name, too. Call me Eddie.”

  Eddie. 

So you had included your own name in your letter somewhere. You sigh with relief, though it still makes you a little uncomfortable that this stranger knows something personal about you. Sure he’s been nice, but he was still a felon. Though knowing his name made you feel a little better. Made him feel a tad more human to not use silly nicknames.

“Can I start by saying I loved reading your last letter?” Your eyebrows raised in surprise.“The purple pen was a nice touch. Something about a teacher complaining about other teachers is really funny to me, too. Nice to know the torment of some teachers isn’t just limited to students! And I doubt your kids think you’re stiff or whatever. You seem pretty cool to me. Even if I’ve only gotten to talk to you through a couple letters, you talk to me a lot nicer than I probably deserve.”

The smile that had made its home on your lips from his sentiments dropped into a frown. You felt yourself wanting to get defensive, wanting to tell him that he shouldn’t think that way about himself. That even if he was a felon, he still deserves respect.

“Being a younger teacher must be hard. You did all the college stuff to be a teacher so that should be enough to get their respect in my opinion. I don’t think I had a teacher who wasn’t at least in their 50s so they probably can’t see anyone under 30 as anything other than a kid I guess.”

“Hit the nail on the head,” you say to yourself with an airy chuckle. 

As you keep reading, he changes the subject to something you don’t remember asking in your previous letter.

“So you wanna know what I look like, huh? Well back before I was in here I would wear my band shirts, Metallica and Judas Priest and all the bands that make the old ladies cringe. My jeans had holes in them, too. And I have this battle vest that I’ve put together with some patches of my favorite bands on it. My uncle Wayne says he’s keeping it safe for me at home. It’s not much, but I learned how to stitch patches on by myself, so it means something to me. Gives me something to look forward to when I get out.” 

Your mind paints an image of a gangely teen trying to look cool to impress his friends or scare off the old ladies at the mall. Sounds like the kind of guy you had crushes on in high school. There may have been a picture or 2 of Kirk Hammit or Vince Neil or Eddie Van Halen tapped to the inside of your locker door in high school, but you’d never admit that now.

“I also had long hair when I was younger. Can’t call yourself a metal head without having long hair ya know. But I’ve had to cut it since I’ve been in here. I’ve got pretty curly hair and it was getting hard to keep up with it. It’s short enough to keep out of my face most of the time. I’m actually due for a haircut, so thanks for reminding me! Hair cuts are free in prison so I get it done way more than I ever did on the outside. You gotta tip your barber though or else they might “accidentally” shave all your hair off next time. Learned that one the hard way.”

He goes on to answer some of your questions about the inner workings of the jail. They do get to work out a lot, but says he’s not a “big meat head” like some of the other inmates. He doesn’t like basketball for “personal reasons” so he prefers to run laps. “When you’re trying to get out of a big fight it’s better to be faster than stronger.”

“I am also proud to admit that I have never stabbed someone. Almost been stabbed myself, but I used to get my shit rocked in high school so I’ve learned to dodge over the years.” Your hand comes to your face, almost forgetting that you asked such a stupid question. Of course he hasn’t stabbed anyone. You could excuse it if it was out of self defense maybe. But then you recall him saying before that he doesn’t get “messed with”, so what is he doing that people aren’t bothering him if not stabbing them? Your head spins with possibilities as you think about it more.

As you are about to read on, you are interrupted by a knock on your door, the sound causing you to jump in your seat. Quickly closing the letter and shoving it into your bag, you rush to the door to find a student from your 3rd period class, a shy one at that, needing clarification on the newest assignment. You let her in, forgetting the letter for the rest of the period. 

The rest of the period then turns into the rest of the day. It goes by like a blur as everyone seems to be getting last minute things turned in for the week. Grades for the upcoming report cards would be due by the end of next Tuesday, so you told your classes to get any missing work in by today and you would give them partial credit. It was setting yourself up for a busy weekend, but anything to keep your mind off the upcoming holiday was welcomed. 

It would be your first Thanksgiving single in almost 10 years, and your 4th since your mom passed. Your soon to be ex-husband, Henry, had convinced you to move to his hometown of Hawkins after your mother died to be closer to his family and to help his dad’s business as his accountant. It wasn’t your first choice of places to live, and after looking back on the situation, you realized that he had used your vulnerability to get a lot of what he wanted. 

Things seemed fine at first. His parents bought your house and he had a good paying job. All you had to do was cling to his arm and keep quiet. You were kept well manicured, your appearance catered to his liking as he paraded you around at office parties.

The not so hushed whispers from the women in his office always talking about how lucky you were to bag an older man reached your ears. But you kept your tongue against your cheek. They could be jealous all they want, because if they knew what happened behind closed doors they wouldn’t be singing the same tune. 

Waking up early in the morning, way before he ever did, just to put on your face. God forbid you weren’t presentable to him always. Afterwards you’d iron his white button ups and khaki slacks, make him a huge breakfast, present his clothes to him, and be waiting by the door on your knees for him to use your mouth before he walked out the door. 

At the time, you felt like you had a purpose. That being a housewife was what you were meant to be. But the degree you had worked so hard on stared at you as you cleaned the house everyday. Your passion was just in reach, boring you every day.

That is, until fate, and the well timed retirement of your predecessor, gave you the opportunity to start teaching that year. When you got the call, you were over the moon. Henry even said he was proud of you. 

Until you forgot to iron his clothes. It was just a stern talking to the first time, an anger in his eyes like you’d never seen before had you on edge the entire first day of class. You made it up to him by waking up extra early, using your mouth to start his day since you couldn’t be at the door for him anymore.

But, then you started falling behind on chores during the week as grading papers took up most of your free time when you weren’t tending to his needs. It’s not that you didn’t clean, it just wasn't the only thing you had to do every day anymore. Passive comments about becoming lazy were brushed to the side until they collectively spilled over into your first big argument. You told him he could help, too. He smacked you across the face. 

Too busy juggling work and cleaning the house full time caused you to miss the signs that things were declining. It started when Henry had to start staying late for work, claiming that they had a “big project” that was going to require him to stay over longer. He made it seem like a temporary arrangement that ended up becoming a pattern for months. But, he assured you that a raise could come from his hard work. So you continued to sit at home, a cold, untouched plate sitting across from you as you finished another bottle of wine. At least he wasn’t there to put his hands on you.

Then it was the pair of panties that you didn’t recognize when you did his laundry. When you confronted him, he told you that it must be a pair you owned back in high school that was mixed in with his clothes somehow when you moved. When you pressed on, he gave you a black eye. 

Then it was the perfume you didn’t recognize on your pillow case when you came home from a weekend trip to see your new nephew. He told you it smelled like your perfume, you just hadn’t been home all weekend to smell it. You didn’t argue this time.

Then it was his father’s secretary, Missy, calling your home and telling you that she was sleeping with your husband. She had been nice at last year's Christmas party when you first met her. Nineteen, dumb as a box of rocks.

“Are you and Henry still married?” she had asked with her valley girl accent, “Because when I stayed over I saw that he still had pictures of you two at his house.”

Now you’re stuck in this tiny town, your closest relative being your brother who has his own family out in Chicago. Thankfully, you had made friends with the ever charming Steve Harrington, who’s father also worked with Henry. He came as a package deal with his roommate Robin Buckley, and the two of them quickly became your best friends. They were as blindsided as you about Henry’s affair and helped you move into your new apartment. Steve offered to let you live with him and Robin, but you didn’t want to live in the same house as your ex’s coworker, even if he was never there.

“We should make a grocery list for next week.” Robin called from the kitchen to where you and Steve were sat in the living room. “Do we want to bother making a turkey or should we do something easier?”

“Do you know how to make a turkey?” you asked looking over the top of your wine glass as she taps a pen to paper scowling.

“She can barely make a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, d’ya really think she can make a turkey?” You watch as a roll of paper towels is launched from the kitchen into the side of Steve’s head and your laugh erupts.

“Well, then were fucked,” you say between giggles, “because I can’t make a turkey, and I know Steve “grabs a pan without a mitt” Harrington also can’t cook one.”

“Oh, that was ONE TIME!” 

Steve goes to throw the paper towel roll at you, but you dodge, “One time is enough to never let you live it down, Steven. Maybe we should get some chicken instead.”

“Oh, I can make us some potato salad!”

After some back and forth about what to make for your “Friendsgiving” as Robin had been calling it, claiming inspiration from a new episode of Friends, Steve was begging to talk about anything else. 

“School seems to be better this year,” he looks at you carefully, “You haven’t been talking about it as much lately. Not negatively at least.”

“Yeah the only thing you’ve complained about is that prison thing your class was supposed to be doing.” She looked at you with a look of curiosity, “How’s that going?”

You blink and suddenly remember the letter that you had gotten earlier. It was sitting in your bag back home where you had left it on your coffee table again. You were so busy getting ready to go to Steve’s that you had forgotten to finish it.

“It’s going okay. Hey, did you guys go to high school here?”

They both look at each other, then back to you. “Yep, graduated a year after dingus, though. Class of ‘86.”

Steve gave Robin an annoyed look at the nickname before returning his attention to you, “Why do you ask?”

You pondered for a moment if it would be okay to tell them about Eddie. The program was supposed to be anonymous, but that was just to protect the kids. If he wasn’t allowed to give you his name they would have confiscated the letter, right? Bridges said the letters were vetted both ways, so if it was a problem he would have told you. But this seemed like a breach of privacy. You only had a first name to go off of and a vague description. He never said his age, so could be older than even you, or younger than Robin. 

“Um, do you guys know anyone that goes by Eddie?” 

They both perked up at the name, giving each other a look that you couldn’t read. You swore they could communicate telepathically.

Steve was the first to speak after a moment of silence. “Yeah, we know an Eddie. Why?” His tone was curious as he side eyed you.

“Oh, well my pen pal from the, uh, the prison thing. See his name is Eddie, and he told me that he’s from Hawkins. I don’t know much about him, but I think he may be close to my age and maybe he was in school with you guys-”

Robins laugh caught you off guard. “If it’s the same Eddie we know, then yes he was in school with us. Way longer than he was supposed to be, and we didn’t really get close until the end of my senior year.”

The look on your face prompted Steve to elaborate, “Eddie was -- is, a friend of ours that we got to know better through a mutual friend. He did go to prison a few years ago, but it was because he was scapegoated by a guy he bought weed from. We thought he was gonna go to jail for, like, the rest of his life or something. I had to convince my dad to get our lawyer that he keeps on retainer to represent him in court. The guy owed my dad a favor and he did it, Eddie only got five years.”

“There’s no way,” you said incredulously. Your jaw had to be on the floor. You knew this town was small, but was it really this small? Robin and Steve would be the type to forget to mention they had a friend in prison, too. 

“What’s his last name?”

“Munson. Eddie Munson. We still talk to him on the phone every once in a while. Usually his uncle gets a hold of us, tells us that he’s going to call at a certain time so we can stay by the phone. Oh!” Steve stands up from his spot on the couch, clapping his hands, “I have my senior year book up stairs. He should be in it as long as he showed up to picture day.” 

As Steve walks away, you turn to Robin, who has an amused look on her face.

“What?” You laugh, still in disbelief at the information that has been given to you. She shrugs, lips turned in a downward smile, “Nothing. So what do you and Eddie talk about?”

“What do we talk about? Not much really. We’ve only sent maybe two letters to each other. He always covers the letters in artwork though. They look like little tattoos.”

“Yeah, that’s definitely our Eddie,” She shakes her head, “His notebooks that he would carry around with him are covered in art. He told us he’s given himself some tattoos while he’s been there. We keep telling him he’s going to look like a felon when he comes out.”

“Isn’t he a felon, though?” 

“Yeah, but he doesn’t have to look like it!”

“Found it!” Steve yells as he comes back into the living room, blowing the dust off the book. He plops down on the couch between you and Robin and starts to look through the pages. “See, the funny thing about Eddie, he was supposed to graduate in ‘84, but he kept fucking around and ended up repeating his senior year -- three times.” 

“Holy shit,” you were in absolute disbelief, “he told me that in one of his letters. He said he was because the teachers didn’t like him, too.”

“Yeah, that sounds like something he would say,” Robin chuckles. 

“Ah-ha, He did show up! Here he is right here!”

Your eyes snapped to where Steve’s fingers pointed to the tiny black and white square. Eddie wasn’t kidding when he said his hair was super curly. The close up of his face makes his hair almost completely take the background out of the picture. You can barely see it but it looks like he’s wearing a Judas Priest shirt under a leather jacket and what you suspect to be the leather jacket he seems to treasure so much. When you finally let yourself focus on his face you’re met with a bright smile and dimples on either side. Dark eyes scrunched up from how high his cheeks were. You definitely would have had a crush on him if you had gone to the same school. 

“Soooo…what do you think?” Robin sing-songs with an expectant look on her face. 

You can feel yourself smiling and try to reign it in, “Well, he’s not a 40 year old biker looking guy with a beard so that makes me feel better. He looks nice, actually.” 

“He’s a good guy,” Steve starts flipping through the pages of the book, “but everyone gave him shit because…of…this.” Stopping on another page in the book, you see a picture of a group of students leaning up against a wall, all of them wearing matching shirts. 

“Hellfire Club?” You look between Steve and Robin. 

“He hasn’t mentioned Hellfire Club?” Robin was baffled. “That’s like, his whole thing!”

You shake your head, brows furrowed,“What is it?” 

“His D&D club? He’s seriously never brought it up?”

“No, not yet at least.” Taking the book from Steve, you get a better look at the picture. “Like I said, we've only sent a few letters back and forth. I wouldn’t say we’ve exhausted all of our topics for discussion yet.”

“You’ll never run out of things to talk about with Eddie,” Steve states sarcastically, “You’d think prison would have had an effect on his social skills, but that guy could talk for an hour about a crack he saw in the sidewalk.”

Hearing that made you wonder if he ever held back when writing to you. His letters were usually front and back all the way to the bottom of the pages. You wonder if they only allow him one page or if has to pay for the paper. Hopefully he wasn’t wasting his money to talk to you. 

“When was the last time you guys talked to him?” 

“Uh-“ Robin starts.

“It was still hot outside I think,” Steve interjects, “Like early September?”

“Yeah,” Robin nods, eyes wide, “September sounds about right.”

“Hmm, that’s around when we started writing to each other. I guess he wouldn’t have mentioned it if he didn’t know about me yet.” 

“If it’s been that long we’re definitely due for a call from him.” Robin looks to Steve, you miss the mischief in her eyes, nor do you see the look he gives her back. “Maybe you could talk to him next time he calls us?”

Your head snaps up, eyes wide meeting Robin’s gaze. You saw the look now and immediately started shaking your head in protest. 

“No, no, Robin I don’t think that’s a good idea.” You stand up from your spot on the couch, handing the yearbook back to Steve. Taking a few steps back to look at them, you bite one of your nails, thinking about the situation you’ve gotten yourself into. “Actually, if he does call, I’d also appreciate it if you didn’t tell him you knew me either. I’m sure he’s a nice guy but…”

“Hey,” Steve stood up and placed a hand on your arm, “It’s cool. You didn’t know Eddie before, and you barely know him now. I think Robin just meant that you could get to know him more since he is our friend. He’s gonna get out of prison eventually and we promised him that we’d just continue on like how things were before.”

“But,” you look at Steve with worry in your expression, “being in prison that long can change a person.”

“Eddie is too stubborn to let anything break him of being himself. He didn’t repeat his senior year twice because he’s dumb. He did it because he was too busy with what he wanted to do to bother with his schoolwork.”

“Actually,” Robin says, “he said prison is easier because he gets three meals a day and doesn’t have to do math, so…”

“But,” Steve gets your attention again, “My point is that you don’t have to go out of your comfort zone to be his friend for our sake if you don’t want to. Just keep talking to him on your own and see how you feel.”

You swear these two really were the only good people in Hawkins. 

“Yeah, okay,” you nodded,” I’ll keep writing him, but I won’t mention that I know you two. Not yet at least.”

November 27th, 1994

Ever since your talk with Robin and Steve, your nightmares have changed. Now that you have a face to the name they’re not really nightmares anymore. Instead of a nameless, faceless voice at your door, you can see him through the peephole. He’s not knocking on your door with rage, but out of desperation. Still begging to be let in, but the lock is on his side. You hold the key in your hand, you just have to slide it under the door…

A sharp, grating ring wakes you from your sleep, eyes shooting open and taking in the room around you. The sun peaks from behind your bedroom curtains, the light just bright enough to pester the hangover migraine that’s already in full effect. You have to strain to get your eyes to focus on the numbers on your alarm clock that read just past noon. 

The continuous ringing of the phone finally throttles you out of bed and into your kitchen. When you pick up the phone you hear Steve on the other end. 

“Oh, good, you lived,” he exclaims, “Robin, she’s still alive!”

A muffled, “oh thank god” comes from the background in the receiver. You hadn’t anticipated being so emotional the night before, thinking you were past feeling sorry for yourself that you were alone on a holiday while your bastard ex had someone keeping your side of the bed warm every night.

All the emotions came up at Steve’s during dinner. It was just the three of you there, all with broken families. They had other friends who were home for the holidays, but they were doing their own thing this weekend. Robin and Steve insisted that you join in on the festivities but you declined, using not knowing them as an excuse.

Really you just wanted some alone time. Time to yourself, to let yourself feel whatever you need to feel without having to mask in front of strangers, brush off any awkwardness if the topic of your failed marriage were to arise. 

You think Robin and Steve could tell that you were in your own head. They suggested taking you out to the only dive bar in town still open on the holiday, and assuming the place would be pretty dead, you said fuck it and all piled into Steve’s car. Sharing drinks and playing pool while metal music that made you think of your pen pal. You wondered what he was doing as you stepped outside to smoke a cigarette you bummed off an older, balding guy sitting at the bar. 

After drinking so much that Robin had to drive your car home for you, their phone call really didn’t come as a surprise to you. 

“Yes, god, I’m alive. Don’t yell into the phone, please.” You pinch the bridge of your nose to try and relieve some of the tension. The phone call is brief, Steve just wanting to check in on you and confirm that you didn’t want to participate in their outing. 

“We’re going ice skating! And if you can’t skate, our friend Max would enjoy having someone sit on the sidelines with her.”

“Sorry, Steve,” you press your forehead against the cool wood of the door frame, “I’m sure everyone is very nice, but I’m just not feeling up to it.”

After a few cups of coffee and a long shower, you settle on your couch, flipping through the channels on the tv for something to watch and settling on a Beverly Hills: 90210 rerun marathon. It didn’t take you long to lose interest and you began fidgeting for something else to keep your mind from wandering into dangerous territory. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you see your work bag on the floor at the end of your couch. The memory of tripping and knocking the bag over last night comes back to you, making you internally cringe at yourself. You grab the bag and see that the contents were an unorganized mess compared to how you normally keep it. The longer you looked the crazier it made you feel, so you carefully took the papers and folders out, laying them in front of you. 

When you picked up your first period folder, the familiar envelope that you had forgotten a week ago fell out, landing in your lap. You quickly pick it up and open it, remembering that you hadn't even had the chance to properly finish reading it. 

Something about seeing the letter again made you feel good. As you look at the artwork, you see the picture of the shirts his club members wore and smile as you realize he made the shirts himself. 

You reread the description of himself and can laugh because he must have worn the same thing every day, recalling the holes in his jeans and his battle vest from his pictures. It was hard to imagine the wild mane of hair he had being cut short. Do they get conditioner in prison? Because his hair must be a mess without it. 

Finally, you get to the part of the letter you hadn’t read. You felt your heart beating in your chest, an anxiousness building that you couldn’t explain. 

“I’m running low on space to write and I don’t know when I’ll hear from you again, but I just wanted to ask-“

You’re thrown off when you see two lines of the letter have been blacked out with a black marker or sharpie. There’s no way to make out what was written, and the last line is just him wishing you a “happy whatever holiday you celebrate,” his real signature greeting you at the very bottom of the page. “What the hell?” You asked the empty apartment. The first assumption that comes to mind is that Eddie must have messed up what he was going to write and decided to black it out since he wrote in pen. Or maybe he wanted to write more, but realized he was running out of space? That would go with your theory that they are limited in the paper they can get. 

There’s also the possibility he said something inappropriate and whoever checks the letters made him redact it. That was probably the least likely, but it makes you laugh to think about. Robin and Steve brought him up a few times while you were drinking and gave him the highest praises. But, you never know what someone would be willing to say or do when they’ve been touch starved for almost 5 years.

Butterflies invade your stomach when you think about it more. He’s probably had to take care of himself quite a bit while he’s been locked up. Where does one even do that in prison without prying eyes?

Your thighs clench together at the image you’ve conjured in your head. Steve had shown you some pictures of Eddie that he found from not too long before he went to prison. Sure, he resembled his yearbook picture, thin and lanky he once was. But the picture of him and Steve at a lake, both of them shirtless and clearly soaking wet, displayed muscles that he had likely gained from the mechanic job Robin mentioned he had. The tattoos that he had on his body were taking over, almost covering one of his arms completely. 

The image of soaked curly hairs clinging to his face as he’s leaning into a shower wall comes to the forefront of your mind. Toned arms flexing as he holds himself against the wall with one hand, stroking himself with the other. You imagined his hands were rough and calloused from playing guitar and working on cars. He was long and hard as he pumped himself, water dripping off the tip with each down stroke. God, you can only imagine his face as he cums, a loud groan falling from his lips as he spills onto the shower floor, calling your name…

You throw yourself into the couch cushion next to you and physically cringe. Where the hell did that come from? Was this the result of your dry spell since you left Henry? A guy that you’ve never even met before gives you a little attention and your brain automatically goes into the gutter. Sitting up, you rub your face in your hands in an attempt to keep the scenario from replaying in your mind. At least you had successfully distracted yourself from the self pity you were wallowing in. 

You roll onto your back, holding up the letter in your hand. You admire the artwork, the sloppy handwriting. A person wrote this letter. Someone who did something illegal and paid the price for it. Someone who is very loved and has an uncle waiting for him somewhere in this town, and friends who would do anything for him. And now, he’s writing you letters, and you wonder if he is feeling the same way that you are starting to feel…what are you feeling, exactly?

Sitting up from the couch, you grab a pen and paper from your bag.

“Hello Eddie” no.

“Hey, stranger” no.

“What’s up!” definitely not.

Another balled up paper tossed to the ground. 

“Dear Eddie,” sure why not, “I hope you are having a wonderful holiday season yourself. Hopefully your uncle can come and see you for whatever you celebrate. If not, at least a phone call would be nice. Does the prison give you anything special for the holidays? Like a turkey for Thanksgiving, ham for Christmas, the traditional stuff. I spent the holiday with-”

Steve and Robin. You know them! I know who you are, too. Totally not weird, right?

“-my friends. They called it “Friendsgiving,” I think it had something to do with a TV show. None of us like to cook, so we ended up just picking up stuff at the store and then going out to a local bar. I’m writing this letter the next day, a little hungover I have to admit. But, writing this letter has helped distract me from the migraine I’m trying to stave off. It’s been very busy at school lately with projects, exams, a choir…thing? All that means for me is that I have mountains of paperwork to grade, and I spent the last month trying to get kids to turn in anything missing. It’s like trying to get squirrels to stay in a basket.

Winter break is just around the corner, though. Which means two weeks of getting to sleep in late, watching terrible TV reruns, and using the cold weather as an excuse to stay inside. Although, I think my friends will manage to get me out of my apartment one way or another. I feel like a cat who was adopted by two dogs who share the same brain cell. But, they have helped me a lot over the last couple of months so I owe it to them to be their voice of reason sometimes.”

You pause and have a laugh to yourself. You think about all the ridiculous adventures the two of them have taken you on in the last few months, doing things that you would never have done before Henry. They’ve taken the hard metal bones out of your binding and started loosening the strings. You wonder if you would have even said yes to doing this letter thing if you hadn’t already had your boundaries pushed a little.

“I hope this isn’t too much to ask, but do you have any big plans for when you get out? Places you want to go? Food you want to try? People you want to see?”

You smile when you dot the last question mark. It feels sneaky to ask when you know that your meeting is inevitable, and there is a small voice in your ear telling you that he wouldn’t want to meet you. You’re boring. Simple. Dull. Only shades of grey fill your wardrobe, your heart, where there was once colour. Broken.

The new bottle of wine you got at the gas station stares at you from the kitchen.

Anyway.

“Hopefully you’re able to get out in time for the summer. Wouldn’t it be nice to walk outside as a free man and get to feel the sun on your skin? I think Hawkins is having a Rose festival again next year. There could be some inspiration there for you for your art, and if not, the funnel cakes are worth the admission price. Everything else is overpriced, but what isn’t nowadays?”

Filling the last bit of the back of the page, you felt it only fair to give a few details about yourself. Just a general description, nothing too revealing. Not that there was much to give away since becoming a professional educator has taken any creative freedom from your sense of style. You did tell him that on the weekends you treated yourself by wearing comfy clothes all day. You didn’t tell him that you only felt okay to do that recently, since your ex husband always expected you to look your best.

As you reached the bottom, you remembered the redacted section of his last letter. Do should you ask about it? Would he even be able to tell you? You went ahead and brought it up.

“Before I close this letter, I am curious to know why the last bit of your letter had been marked out. I can only imagine what you could have asked that it had to be taken out. I hope it wasn’t inappropriate, Mr.Banished.” You added a little “ha ha” in parentheses so he knew you were just joking, careful once again not to offend.

“Looking forward to your next letter,”

You signed your name, fighting the urge to draw a heart next to it like the girls in your class writing notes to their crush. There was no way that feeling like this for someone that you’ve only had correspondence through letters and the bit of hype from your mutual friends can be healthy. Grabbing the box of greeting cards that you had sat on the coffee table, you wrote some well wishes and folded your letter to fit within the confines of the red envelope. You took a look at it for the first time since Bridges had handed them over and your heart dropped. 

In one of the ethics classes you took in college a classmate did a presentation on Pendleton Prison. It had just come out the year before that there had been an abuse of power and prisoners were basically being tortured. It was hard to observe but informative. You couldn’t even imagine something like that happening to Eddie. You wondered if the reason they were participating in this program to begin with was to help with their reputation. We’ll let them talk to some kids and it will seem like we’re not abusing our inmates.

You look at the wine bottle again.

It’s fine. If Eddie was going through something like that, surely he would have told Steve and Robin, his uncle. But you wanted to be sure. You walk into your kitchen.

December 25th, 1994

“…You can say hello when you see me. You don't have to be afraid. There's a lot of things going around about me, but none of it's true. Okay?”

Your eyes flutter open, and you quickly close them when the harsh light of your tv playing Home Alone was too bright. Another dream about Eddie had taken over your mind in your sleep. You sit back to the door, the key in your hand. He doesn’t push you anymore, says to only give the key if you want to. That he enjoys your company no matter what. 

Sigh.

As you sit up from the couch where you had dozed off the night before, you decide to make a cup of coffee and ring your brother. 

“I could have come to get you. And brought you back. You know I don’t mind-“

“No, no, it’s okay, really. You have your own family now, I don’t want to dampen the mood,” you say as if you mean it. Coffee swishes around in your mug as you talk. It was true that your brother had a family of his own and was living the American dream. You liked that he invited you to be part of that, but you just couldn’t get past the notion that everyone would just look at you with pity. You’d rather be alone

Steve and Robin also invited you to Colorado with them. Steve’s parents had a house in Aspen where they were hosting Christmas this year. Steve insisted his parents wouldn’t care if you tagged along since they started to become fond of Robin. As much as seeing the beautiful snow covered mountains of Colorado sounds like a great reprieve for your mind, you still lied and told them you were going to your brothers. What they didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them. 

The sound of Kevin McCallister’s hijinks in New York got your attention. The movie distracted you for a while, until it didn’t. You watched the tv -- well, rather you looked at it for until you stood up, deciding to get out of the house, even if just to drive around.

The movie-esque scenery of small town Hawkins covered in snow was quiet and still, say for the few cars that you passed likely on the way to see family, traveling between houses. Something you and Henry did to make things fair for both of you. Your mom’s house first, then his parents.

Cars sat outside the Hideout, piquing your interest as you watched a man get out of a pick up truck and walk inside. It was close enough to five o'clock that you decided to pull into the lot, pulling into a spot by the door. Inside you were surprised to see it fairly occupied, mostly by men who looked like they worked at the factory in town or drove the big rig that was parked on the side of the building. The patrons seemed to talk amongst themselves, some semblance of holiday cheer keeping their spirits alive as their glasses clanked and boisterous laughs filled the air.

Sliding into an empty bar stool, you grabbed your purse to get your ID and some cash. 

“Ain’t ya little young to be sittin’ alone at a bar on Christmas?”

You looked up from your purse at the man sitting next to you at the bar. He sipped from his glass, cigarette smoke seeping from his lips, attention set on nothing in particular. He was an older man, bald on top and plenty of aging on his face, but you had the feeling he was younger than he looked. Some of his features felt familiar to you but you weren’t sure why.

“Um, well, I guess so,” you stutter as you set your purse down between your feet. “But, uh, I really didn’t want to spend Christmas alone.”

A hum and a nod, “I guess loneliness knows no age.” He huffed a laugh before getting the bartender's attention. “What are you drinking?”

“Oh, no, please, you don’t-” you begin to protest, but he puts his hand up and waves you off.

“Trust me,” he takes a long drag from his cigarette, “I would be buying it for someone else if they could be here.”

Ah. You tell the bartender your order and the man tells him to put it on his tab. 

“Thank you,” you give him a genuine smile, turning towards him to speak as the bar patrons become louder. You paused for a beat before speaking again, “I’m sorry you’re alone today.”

“Makes no difference to me really, just another day to me,” he takes a sip of his beer. You almost miss it, but you see the flash of a smile on his face. 

“Just another day, huh,” you say smugly, dipping your head into his line of vision. He must have realized he was smiling because he covered his hand with his mouth shyly, the motion a contradiction to his hard exterior. Clearing his throat, he sat up in his seat, opening from his hunched position to talk with you properly.

“It’s just another day, always been to me, but,” He looks at you for a moment, then back down into his beer, “I used to celebrate, for my boy. Haven’t gotten to do that properly in a while. I’m hopin’ this year will be the last, that next year will be different.”

His endearment made your eyes misty. “That’s so sweet,” you coo, putting a hand on coat covered arm, “I’m sure things will work out.” You pull back when your drink is dropped off, quickly taking a few sips. 

The man watches you, his head shaking in your peripherals. “So, what’s really got ya out here celebrating with Hawkins finest? Besides the, uh,” he gestures vaguely, “cheerful atmosphere.”

You stay quiet for a moment, eyes focused on the straw floating in your drink. Deep breath in, and out. “Do you want the half truth or the full truth?”

His body bounces from a chuckle, “I got a little time.”

Pouring your heart out to a stranger over drinks felt therapeutic, and not in the same way as talking to Robin and Steve. He just listened, nodded his head, grunted in what you assume to be agreement. This man, who looks like he hasn’t taken a day off in his life, made you feel more valid with no words at all than anyone else has in your entire life besides your own mother.

“And now I’m, like, kinda into this guy, but he doesn’t know I exist,” your words are a little slurred as you take down another drink. “Sorry, no, he knows I exist, but he knows nothing about me. Like, he knows some things, but he doesn’t really know me, ya know?”

His head bobs up and down, takes another drag of his cigarette.

“I feel weird feeling this way, because I would never have even considered a guy like him before. Henry, I told you about Henry, he was super uppity, snotty. A real tight ass. But, this guy is funny. Genuine, and his friends talk him up. Who wouldn’t fall for a guy like that? Even if he is rough around the edges.”

“Well, if it doesn’t work out with you and this guy, I outta introduce you to my nephew. He was always picked on in school for being different, but he’s a good kid. Just got into the wrong stuff,” the mans face sunk a bit, “My fault really.”

You tilt your head in confusion, “How so?”

“Heart attack. Had one while at work. Stayed in the hospital for a few, got the bill and almost had another one,” he chuckles at that. “I wasn’t even gonna tell ‘em, but he came over to visit and I forgot about it. Saw it sittin’ on the counter. Next thing I know he’s callin’ me sayin’ he’s booked on ‘possession with intent to distribute’. Buncha bull for some grass.” He put his cigarette out with a harsh stab. “But, he’ll be good soon. My deadbeat brother’s been keepin’ an eye on him in there and he’s been keeping his good behavior streak.”

“He sounds like a good kid,” you rest your cheek against the cool counter as you smile up at him.

“Yeah, he is.” His smile reaches his eyes, and so does yours.

“Well, gotta go, darlin’,” he slaps a couple bills on the counter and nods to the bartender, “Excpectin’ a call here soon. Get you some pretzels or somethin’ before ya take off.”

“Thank you,” your brows come together, “sorry, I don’t think I ever caught your name?”

“Names Wayne.”

“Nice to meet you, Wayne.”

thanks for reading.

[twitchmattentusiast]

｡°✩ 𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐄 . . . . .ᐟ

─── MATTHEW STURNIOLO.

pairings. matthew sturniolo x female oc

❝ i’m not really bothered about the words, though, when i can do the actions…. ❞

# warnings: smut obvs, teasing, praising, masturbation, dom!matt, degrading?

matt knew that his best friend loved to read, and for as long as he can remember, his earliest memories included teasing his best friend as she sat on the school hill with some type of book in her hands as matt and his brothers played some sport during recess.

as stella got older, that didn’t change at all. whenever matt went over, her bookshelves were filled to the brim; some books had to be on the floor. the floor was covered in so many books that matt couldn’t even see the floor. not only that, she constantly left a supply of books literally everywhere; matt couldn’t even count on one hand how many times she'd left one of her books in his car or his room.

though matt knew stella loved to read, he didn’t quite know what she liked to read; he assumed since she was a sucker for rom-coms that she read corny shit like that, so he just always continued to tease her at the fact that when she came over to his, she’d sit on his bed reading under a blanket while he played some video game, the pair of them both sitting in a comfortable silence as one read and the other played video games for hours.

it was only a week ago, though, when matt found out what stella actually read about.

you see, last friday, chris and stella thought it would be a great idea to get absolutely wasted at a party a few towns over. matt wasn’t really feeling a party at all that night, so only stella, nick, and chris went. apparently, chris and stella got a little too wasted and started oversharing literally everything.

a drunk stella revealed to a sober nick that she read smut books.

to say that matt was shocked was an understatement. hearing that his best friend wasn't reading the fluffy corny shit he assumed she was reading shocked him enough, but then he learned that not only has his innocent best friend been reading smut since the age of 12; she’s been reading the most degrading, filthy smut on a daily basis.

you see, ever since nick told matt the type of books stella reads, he hasn’t been able to get it out of his head—the idea that his innocent best friend, who literally gets grossed out the second chris starts going into detail about a girl he made out with or a girl he fucked in the last week, was reading smut? holy shit, it was driving him insane.

and that’s the exact reason why matt is seated on his gaming chair, a smirk on his face as his eyes follow the figure of his best friend looking around his room in a panic.

“looking for something, stell?” matt asked in confusion.

though matt knew exactly what she was looking for.

stella chewed at the bottom of her lip in frustration as she scanned another corner of matt’s room. she silently scolded herself. how could she be so fucking stupid and accidentally leave another one of her books lying around?

it was around two hours ago when stella had just gotten back from work. she showered quickly as soon as she stepped foot into the house, and she had planned to finish the book she was reading: twisted hate, the third book in the series her best friend had recommended, but when she opened up her bedside table, it was nowhere to be seen.

stella instantly panicked. she had always been careless with her books, forgetting where she had left them, but she really couldn’t believe she left a book like that somewhere.

she tried to remember where she could have left it when she remembered reading it at the triplets house a few days ago, and so she quickly called matt, telling him she was coming over in hopes of getting her book back as soon as possible.

only when she stepped into matt’s room her book was literally nowhere. which confused the fuck out of stella, to be honest, because she swore she left it in matt’s room unless she left it in nick’s? or even worse, chri-

matt chuckled as he watched her frustration grow. “what are you looking for?” he tried again. “maybe if you tell me, i can help you.” he suggested

stella hesitated; she wasn’t really sure if she wanted matt helping her; if he found the book before her, he might read the blurb or something, and the idea of matt knowing what she read . . . no thanks. but then again, she desperately needed her book back, so she sighed. "i’m looking for my book,” she told him, missing how matt smirked at her words. the plan he had set was starting to move its toggles.

"i think i might have left it in your room by accident. have you seen it? it’s kind of redish and it’s called twisted hate.”

matt’s eyes lit up at the mention of the title. "redish, huh?" he mused, pretending to act as if he’d never heard of the book before. after a minute of silence, his eyes lit up in some sort of remembrance.

“oh yeah, you left it here the other day.” He told her.

stella sighed in relief. thank god, she thought. “where is it?” she asked him. usually, when she left a book in his room, he left it on his gaming desk for her, but this time it wasn’t there.

with a sinister grin, matt stood up from his chair and started to walk around the room, searching for the book. "i’m sure i put it somewhere safe," he said nonchalantly, knowing damn well where exactly it was. after some pretend searching, he finally "found" it hidden under a stack of old comic books on top of his dresser.

he walked towards her, slowing down as he approached her. stella sighed in relief, reaching out to grab the book, but matt pulled it away at the last second and smirked at her. “oh, you can’t have it back yet.” he told her.

stella’s eyebrows furrowed. “what? why?” she asked in confusion.

“because i’m borrowing it.”

stella’s eyes widened slightly at his words, though she attempted to appear casual. “what do you mean you’re borrowing it?” she chuckled nervously. “you don’t even know how to read.” she joked.

matt chuckled at her words, "insane." he said, before shrugging, "i’m not really bothered about the words, though, when i can do the actions.”

“actions?"

"yeah, you know, the dirty stuff in the book." matt smirked.

stella’s face began to pale. matthew sturniolo, her best. friend. since. kindergarten, knows what’s in those books she reads. this was like her own personal hell. "what are you talking about?” stella asked as she attempted to still save herself.

"don't play dumb with me, stell." matt walked closer to her, his eyes gleaming with anticipation. "i know exactly what you like to read about; don't deny it."

her eyes widened, and her mouth froze, unable to get any words out. because what the actual fuck? “chapter 18 was hot, don’t you think?” he teased.

“you’ve read it?” stella squeaked.

matt ignored her. though his silence was enough, he'd totally read it, and she wanted to die. "tell me, stella,” matt said as he brushed a curl behind her ear. “when you’re in my bed reading these books, do you touch yourself?”

stella’s heart raced as he spoke so close to her ear, goosebumps forming on her exposed neck. she bit down hard on her bottom lip, unable to meet his gaze directly. "n-no," she managed to croak out.

matt titled his head to the side. “you lying to me, stell?”

stella’s heart pounded in her chest. she shook her head vigorously, trying to deny it, but the truth was there, hiding somewhere deep inside of her. "m-maybe once..." she whispered back, her voice barely audible.

“only once?”

stella nodded her head, and matt hummed, his hand caressing her cheek softly. “hm,” he said after a moment. "should i tell you how many times i’ve touched myself reading that book?” he asked.

stella’s breath hitched at his words, her cheeks flushing crimson red as she tried to think of something else, but now all she could think about was matt reading her book and touching himself to it.

matt smirked. “since you secretly touch yourself when we’re hanging out and when you read that book, why don’t you touch yourself for me so i can read it to you?"

stella’s breath caught in her throat, her mind racing with conflicting emotions. part of her was terrified, but another part was excited. the idea of matt reading out the books she reads in his very room under a thick blanket where she grew so wet she couldn’t take it anymore sounded too good; she didn’t know if she could pass that up. though she was scared of their friendship and what could happen, the heat grew unbearable, and suddenly she felt her pussy drip at matt’s words.

"yes," she croaked out.

matt’s eyes lit up, and he couldn't help but grin widely before sitting back down in his gaming chair. "good girl," he praised.

stella stood there nervously until matt told her to go and lie on his bed. she followed his instructions and quickly laid on his bed, watching as he opened up the book. he smirked at her. “let’s read 26 yeah? i haven’t read it yet.”

stella nodded too anxiously and excitedly to even say anything as she watched matt flicker through the pages before grinning widely as he stopped at chapter 26. he wasted no time at all and started reading the words of the page. stella felt herself grow wetter as matt read the dirty words, and her breath hitched suddenly as he looked over at her. “touch yourself, baby," he instructed.

she hesitated for a moment, unsure of what to do, but ultimately she couldn't resist the urge anymore. slowly, tentatively, she reached down, feeling glad she decided to wear a skirt today, and brushed her hand against her pants, feeling the wetness spread across them.

"fuck.." she moaned softly, arching her hips into the touch. matt grinned and started reading again once he knew she had started touching herself.

“look at you,” matt cooed as she began rubbing circles around her clit, “touching yourself like a fucking slut while i read this dirty book to you.”

stella’s breath hitched as she continued to pleasure herself, her hips rocking against the bed in sync with matt’s words. her moans grew louder, and she couldn't help but close her eyes, lost in the sensation. “soo pathetic.” matt laughed, “bet you touch yourself and imagine it’s us fucking, huh?”

she nodded frantically. "yeah," she panted out between breaths.

matt chuckled, “look at you, not even trying to deny it anymore; you’re pathetic, stella.”

stella’s heart raced as he continued to read aloud. she moved the fingers that had made her way inside of her unknowingly even faster, rubbing harshly at her clit with her thumb. "i’m so close, matt," she moaned.

matt suddenly stopped talking. stella furrowed her eyebrows, looking at him in confusion as she stopped touching herself. “wh-“

“chapters over," matt sighed. “that was a short chapter.” he fake pouted

stella groaned, her body still tensing from the brink of orgasm. "more, please," she begged, unable to control herself anymore.

matt chuckled darkly, standing up from his chair and walking slowly towards her. he reached out a hand, helping her sit up before leaning down and capturing her lips in a hot, hungry kiss. stella kissed back hungrily. his tongue demanded entrance into her mouth, and she moaned into it, returning the favour eagerly. after a moment, he broke the kiss, his breath coming heavy. "i guess i could finish another chapter for you." he said, and stella nodded her head quickly. “of i could fuck you like those sluts you read about."

stella’s heart raced wildly as he spoke, her body trembling with anticipation. she bit down on her bottom lip, unsure of what she wanted. after a long moment of silence, she managed to whisper, "fuck me."

matt smirked. “take your clothes off.” he demanded.

stella hesitated for a moment, her hands shaking as she began to undress herself, first removing her top, revealing her lacy bra, then her skirt and panties. she stood naked before him, her breasts jiggling slightly as she stepped out of her underwear. "now you," she said breathlessly.

matt chuckled. he underessed himself slowly, revealing his muscular torso and a pair of black boxers that were tenting in an obvious fashion. finally, he kicked them off, exposing his thick, hardened cock, glistening with pre-cum.

"get on your knees and suck me," he ordered, and stella didn't hesitate. she fell to her knees before him, her lips brushing against the head of his cock as she wrapped one hand around the base, stroking him rhythmically. her tongue traced along the underside of his shaft, teasing it before she took him fully into her mouth, deep-throating him with ease.

matt groaned, his hand tangling in her hair. "that's a good girl," he praised. "now touch yourself while you suck me."

stella whimpered softly, her fingers finding their way back between her legs, rubbing circles around her clit again.

matt moaned, his hips thrusting upward into her mouth and his cock hitting the back of her throat. his free hand reached down to fondle one of her breasts roughly, pinching and tweaking her nipple hard enough to make her yell. she moaned around his cock, making him thrust even harder into her mouth. “fuck stell, feels so good, baby.” he moaned.

stella’s body trembled with pleasure as she continued to please him, her tongue working over his cock expertly while her hand rubbed her clit even faster. she moaned in response to his rough treatment of her nipple, her body reacting to the dual sensation. her moans turned into high-pitched whimpers as she felt her orgasm approaching once again.

 matt growled, his cock throbbing in her mouth as he felt her nearing climax. "come on, stell, cum for me." he commanded, and she did just that, her walls clenching tightly as wave after wave of intense pleasure washed over her body.

stella’s moans turned into high-pitched whimpers as she orgasmed again, her body shaking violently in ecstasy. meanwhile, matt didn't hold back either; his own release was imminent. with a loud groan, he pulled out of her mouth, his cum painting her face and neck while he jerked himself off, shooting his cum all over her chest and stomach.

stella breathed heavily, moaning as she looked down and saw matt’s cum all over her chest and tits. “please, matt,” she begged.

matt chuckled. "what do you want, stell?" he asked, reaching over to clean some of the mess off her body with his tongue.

"more," she replied, moaning as his mouth started to suck on her nipple after matt licked the cum on it. her hands flew straight to his hair, gripping it tight. "i need you inside me so badly, matt, please.” she begged.

"you’re so needy.” matt chuckled as he moved down her body. he pushed her onto the bed, kissing her all the way up to where she needed him most. instead of fucking her like she had begged him too, he inserted a finger inside of her. “you’re so wet," he smirked.

stella groaned, her body arching into his touch as he kissed and teased her sensitive areas. "matt, please..." she pleaded, her voice becoming more desperate.

"not yet," he taunted, his hand trailing to cup her wetness, rubbing her clitoral area in circles. "want you to beg more."

stella’s breath hitched, her nails digging into his back as she whined, "please, matt, i need you now, please." her body was trembling with desire, begging for release.

matt smirked. “turn around, baby," he told her, and before she even had the chance, matt pushed her head into a pillow, her ass hanging into the air as he spanked it. “you want me to fuck you like a whore so fucking badly, huh?"

stella’s heart skipped a beat as he spanked her ass, the stinging sensation only fueling her desire. "yes! please, matt!" she pleaded, her voice cracking with need.

matt chuckled, reaching between her legs to tease her sensitive spot once more. "so eager for me to take you, huh?" he taunted.

stella whimpered, her hips buckling back against his touch, desperately seeking more. "y-yes!" she managed to choke out between gasps.

matt lined up his cock with her tight entrance and pushed inside her slowly, filling her up completely. "oh god, matt..." her moans turned into high-pitched moans of pleasure as he began to thrust in and out of her, hitting all the right spots. his hands gripped her hips tightly, holding her steady as he pounded into her from behind.

matt groaned, his hips moving in sync with hers, each powerful thrust sending waves of pleasure throughout her entire body. "you feel so fucking good, stell," he panted out between heavy breaths.

“fuck, matt, i-“

“hold it.”

stella’s nails scratched the bedsheet as she tried to comply, her orgasm crashing over her like waves. "i-i can't..." she whimpered.

"just hold on." he growled, continuing to thrust into her.

stella nodded, but her walls started to clench, driving matt to the edge. “cum for me, baby," he told her, and stella came instantly, her mouth hanging open as she screamed. matt watched. “oh god, stell," matt groaned, his hips stuttering for a moment before he finally released himself inside her, filling her up completely with his thick cum. he buried his face in her neck, panting heavily as their bodies slowly started to calm down from the intense high.

stella’s body trembled with exhaustion, her legs shaking as she came down from the powerful orgasm. "m-matt..." she managed to utter in between heavy pants.

“that was fucking amazing." he panted, pulling out of her slowly, his cock still coated in their shared fluids. gently, he helped her lie down beside him, their bodies sticky and sweaty.

matt wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her against him. stella closed her eyes, feeling exhausted; usually, sex like that knocked her straight out.

matt watched her with a slight smile. “stell?”

“hm?” she mumbled tiredly.

"i think you should bring another smut book over next time.”

stella rolled her eyes, smacking him on his arm and smirking as he groaned, “shut the fuck up and go to sleep, you dork.” she laughed.

matt didn’t need to be told twice. “yes, ma'am.” he said, wrapping his arm tighter around her body and kissing her neck before the pair both fell asleep.

unfortunately, though, matt ended up forgetting to lock his door.

“WHAT THE FUCK? NEXT TIME LOCK THE FUCKING DOOR?”

  

｡°✩

this was so long holy fuck😭😭😭

this is like the first smut i’ve wrote that’s been seen by someone other than one of my ibfs so if this sucks i’m so sorry😭

umm let me know if y’all want more/ if u got requests?

- 𝓷. ᥫ᭡

[thatchickwiththecamera]

Ghost | Noah Sebastian One Shot

Pairing: Noah Sebastian x Reader

Y/N had always loved playing video games. She got settled into her gaming chair and readjusted the round glasses perched on her nose before tossed her hair up into a messy bun. She opened Steam on her computer and got the game she downloaded ready.

Her room was organized chaos. Her bed was unmade in the background in front of walls lined with framed vinyls of her favorite bands and a ‘Bad Omens’ flag covered her window as a makeshift curtain. 

An empty Starbucks cup sat next to her Stanley water bottle on her desk from her writing session that morning.

She was an author by trade, with one of her more recent books sneaking its way onto the New York Times Best Sellers list. So streaming gave her an outlet to connect with fans of the book who were eagerly waiting to see what she published next. But she also enjoyed the thrill of gaming. 

So every Wednesday and Friday night, she’d set up her Twitch stream, ready to chat with her followers while she worked on her newest story on her computer or let them watch as she tried to conquer a new game. 

Tonight was Friday night, which meant Game Night! She adjusted her headset and looked into the camera with a grin. 

"Hey, guys! Welcome back! Since we finished Hollow Souls in the last game night stream, we’re starting a new one requested in the Patreon called Nervous System. I downloaded it earlier today and I can’t wait to get started. So, grab your snacks and get comfy!” 

As the game loaded, Y/N glanced at the chat window. The usual usernames flashed by, but one stood out: TwitchGhost. 

“Hey, Ghost! Is this one of the games you’ve played or is this a new one?” She asked, her tone playful.

TwitchGhost: This one is new to me.

Ghost had popped up in one of her streams a few months ago when she was playing through the new Call of Duty storyline and had since become a regular viewer. She began to look forward to his comments almost as much as she looked forward to playing. 

Week after week her chat box was filled with Ghost’s banter and witty interactions with her and her other followers. He even started to watch her regular streams where she would chat with fans and answer questions while working on the draft of her next book.

As the game loaded and the eerie music of Nervous System filled the room, Y/N noticed Ghost’s usual cheeky messages lighting up the chat.

TwitchGhost: I’m ready for some jumpscares!

Y/N chuckled and adjusted her headset. “Yeah, I heard this game is supposed to be pretty intense. I’m excited to see how we’ll do.”

She clicked to start a new game, and the screen transitioned to a dimly lit hallway with flickering lights. The graphics were stunningly detailed, adding an extra layer of immersion. Y/N began exploring, moving through the unsettling environment and commenting on the game’s eerie atmosphere.

The chat was buzzing with excitement as the game’s tension built. Her followers were actively engaging, offering their own tips and sharing their favorite horror games. Ghost’s messages stood out, though. His comments were always well-timed, blending humor with insightful observations about the game.

TwitchGhost: I love how the game is making the mundane so creepy. The lights and music are driving me insane.

Y/N grinned, glancing over at the chat. “I know, right? It’s amazing how a simple light can make everything feel so unsettling. You’re going to help me out if I get stuck, right?”

TwitchGhost: Absolutely! I’ve got your back. Just don’t let the creepy noises get to you.

The game took a sudden turn as a loud crash echoed through the virtual hallway, making Y/N jump slightly. 

“Fucking Hell!” She yelled. 

She laughed nervously and played along with the chat’s reactions. 

“I’m definitely going to need that backup. This game is already getting under my skin.”

TwitchGhost: If you need someone to hold your hand during the scary parts, I’m only a message away.

Y/N raised an eyebrow, her grin widening. 

“Oh, is that so? I’ll have to keep that in mind.” 

The chat exploded with playful and teasing comments from other viewers reacting to their playful flirting. Y/N continued navigating through the game, her focus occasionally shifting to Ghost’s messages.

As she progressed through the game, Y/N found herself getting more engrossed at one point in the gameplay, her tongue peaking out of the side of her mouth in concentration. 

A short but loud alarm suddenly sounded causing her to jump and clutch at her chest. 

A message stating TwitchGhost played KEM Alarm for 0 bits popped up on the screen. 

It was one of the sound bits that she had added to the list when she was still playing COD and had never gotten around to removing it. 

“Fuck you Ghost!” She yelled after pausing the game to calm her racing heartbeat. 

TwitchGhost: 👀😏😈

“Behave.” She said, shaking her head with a smile. 

TwitchGhost: JK. 😉

TwitchGhost: You are doing pretty well with the jumpscares though. They’re my least favorite part of these games. 

Y/N’s cheeks flushed slightly at the compliment. She replied with a playful tone, “Well, thank you! I’d say you’re pretty good at keeping the chat entertained too. Maybe we make a pretty good team?”

TwitchGhost: I like the sound of that. Maybe we should test that theory sometime—on or off stream.

With that the chat went wild with one user even commenting, “I ship it!” 

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat at the suggestion and her smile grew wider as she continued to play the game.

She took a deep breath and responded, “You’re quite the charmer, aren’t you? I’ll have to consider it. For now, I need to survive this game.”

Just as they were about to uncover a major plot twist in the game, Ghost dropped a message that stood out from his usual playful banter.

TwitchGhost: Have you ever thought about adding a horror element to one of your books? You seem to handle the scares pretty well!

Y/N’s eyes widened slightly as she read the message. She paused the game and looked directly into the camera. 

“You know, I haven’t really thought about that. But that’s a really good idea. Maybe mixing some horror elements into a future story could be really interesting. Thanks for the suggestion!”

The chat exploded with excitement, many viewers expressing their enthusiasm for the idea. Y/N smiled, feeling inspired by the unexpected suggestion. She turned her attention back to the game, ready to dive into the next part of the story with renewed energy.

TwitchGhost: Anytime. Looking forward to reading it. 

Another notication popped up - TwitchGhost sent you a friend request

She paused for a moment before eventually hitting the accept button.

Suddenly a direct message box opened.

TwitchGhost: Maybe I’ll be lucky enough to help you brainstorm over a cup of coffee sometime?

Y/N’s heart raced at the thought. She gave a teasing smile to the camera before typing:

Y/NUserName: Maybe. 

The rest of the stream flew by in a blur with Y/N accomplishing the first five objective missions before deciding to call it a night. The stream had left her both exhilarated and exhausted. She closed the game and thanked her viewers for joining her.

“Thanks so much for hanging out tonight! You guys made this game night unforgettable. And Ghost, your suggestion about incorporating horror into my writing might just spark my next big idea. I’ll keep you posted on how it goes!”

She glanced at the chat one last time and saw Ghost’s final message.

TwitchGhost: Looking forward to it. Until next time.

With a contented sigh, Y/N closed her laptop and started to tidy up her desk. 

A few weeks passed and Ghost had been noticeably absent from the chat. 

Another Wednesday had rolled around and Y/N had finished up a full day of meetings with her management and publisher about the press tour for her next book, Michael. It was the first in her new Fallen Angels series and was due to be released at the end of the summer. 

It was completely different from her first book, Ace of Spades. Michael, was titled after the Archangel Michael and was more fantasy based while Ace of Spades was a gritty underground crime romance novel. 

She logged into twitch and the “Stream Starting Soon” graphic appears on the screen going live to her followers. She pulls up her manuscript for the new book she was starting, her face illuminated by the soft glow of the screen. Depending on how busy the chat was tonight she had planned on working on it. When she was ready she switched to the live view. 

“Hey, everyone! Welcome back to the stream. Tonight, we’re swapping out the gaming for some writing and a little Q and A session. I’m diving into outlining a new story and also wanted to let you know a little more about my next release and the series it will be a part of.” She stated.

The chat blew up with excitement and questions about the new series. 

“Okay, the next book is titled Michael and it will be the first in a seven book series called The Fallen Angel series. It will be a fantasy series of sorts and each of the books will be named after one of the seven archangels.” She excitedly answered. “I just finalized plans for the release with my team today and I am happy to announce that it is due to come out at the end of August.” 

She watched as a steady stream of happy and excited replies popped into the chat box on the edge of the screen at the news. 

She let the users chat with each other about the announcement for a bit and started working on the outline of her next story Nightmares. Which popped into her head not long after the stream where Ghost suggested she incorporate horror into one of her books.

She glanced over to take a peek at the chat and noticed someone had used 500 channel points to highlight their message. 

“Oh, that's a good question. Trickster24 asked what was my inspiration for Carter in Ace of Spades was.” She said, before adjusting her headset and looking directly into the camera. 

“So, Carter was inspired by a mix of classic noir heroes and a bit of real-life charm. I took some cues from those figures you would see in old detective films. But there’s also a touch of some famous personas in there as well in an overall aesthetic sense. It really helped shape Carter into a more nuanced character.” 

The chat continued to buzz with interest with viewers dropping comments about who they pictured as Carter when they read the book. 

GoldenGoddess45: Who did you envision as Carter when you were writing the book?

“So…when writing Ace of Spades, I honestly envisioned Carter as someone who looks similar to the lead vocalist of one of my favorite rock bands called Bad Omens.” She began, “If you guys aren’t familiar with them you should definitely check them out.” 

The chat fills with more questions, but her attention is drawn to a familiar username. 

TwitchGhost: Carter sounds like someone I’d love to have a coffee with. How about you? Do you think Carter would enjoy a coffee date?

The comment makes her laugh. 

“Welcome back Ghost! I’ve missed seeing your name in the chat,” She started, “I could definitely see Carter frequenting a little dimly lit cafe. And knowing him, he’d definitely be the type to keep the conversation interesting. What about you, Ghost? Are you as mysterious as Carter?”

TwitchGhost: I like to think I have a few secrets up my sleeve. 😉

She grins at the response and how the chat proceeded to blow up at the continuation of their flirty banter. She almost struggles to keep up with the steady stream of questions and responses flowing into the chat.

After a while one pops up about the outline for the new story that she mentioned. 

“Oh yeah, I’ll give you guys a little hint about what I’m working on. I got some inspiration from one of Ghost’s comments actually during a previous stream. I’m not going to announce the title just yet, but I will say it will be more of a horror based dark romance story compared to my other works. I'm in the very early outlining stages though so I am looking forward to seeing where it goes.” 

TwitchGhost: Glad you liked the idea! I’ll be first in line to read it. 😉

Y/N felt a flutter of excitement at Ghost’s message, a sense of anticipation hanging in the air. She glanced at the clock. Her stream had been going for close to two hours, and she still had a lot of work to do on her outline.

“Alright, everyone, I think we’re going to start wrapping things up soon. But before we go, I want to thank you all for your awesome questions. I love how engaged and creative this community is. It really makes this whole process so much fun!”

The chat exploded with thank-yous and goodbyes as her viewers began to sign off. She glanced back at Ghost’s messages, his usual witty banter making her smile.

A new direct message pops up.

TwitchGhost: Sorry for missing so many streams. I hope you’ve been keeping things interesting without me. 😉

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat at the message. She typed back, trying to match his flirtatious tone. 

Y/NUserName: Oh, you know I always keep things lively. But it’s been a bit dull without your witty comments. How have you been?

TwitchGhost: Busy, had to travel for work and time zones got in the way of tuning in. You’ve been on my mind more than I’d like to admit. 😏

She felt a rush of warmth at his words. 

Y/NUserName: Well, aren’t you a charmer? I’ve missed our little banter. It definitely adds a spark to the stream.

TwitchGhost: Just doing my part to keep things exciting. Speaking of which, I’ve been dying to know—how’s the new book coming along?

Y/N’s smile widened, feeling a thrill at his compliment.

Y/NUserName: The new book is shaping up nicely, thanks for asking. I might even incorporate a bit of the intrigue you bring to our chats into it.

TwitchGhost: I’m flattered. Can’t wait to see how you bring a touch of me into your work. Maybe you’ll make a character who’s just as irresistible as you. 😉

Y/N’s cheeks flushed at his flirty remark. 

Y/NUserName: Well, if I do, I’ll have to make sure they have your charm. I think that’s a winning formula.

TwitchGhost: I’m all for it. And who knows? Maybe your characters will end up stealing more than just my heart.

Y/N’s heart raced at his bold comment. 

Y/NUserName: You’re quite the tease, Ghost. I’ll have to keep that in mind while I’m writing. For now, though, I’m glad you’re back. It wouldn’t be the same without you.

TwitchGhost: Glad to be back. I’ve missed our little moments. I’ll try not to stay away too long next time. 😉

Y/N responded with a flirtatious grin. 

Y/NUserName: I’ll hold you to that. 

She leaned back in her chair and stretched, feeling a mix of relief and exhilaration. She turned off her computer and added a few ideas inspired by their playful exchange to her outline. 

As she wrote, she couldn’t stop thinking about the chemistry she felt with Ghost. She had no clue who he was, but he had quickly become one of her favorite parts of streaming, and the thought of possibly meeting him one day was both thrilling and intriguing.

She quickly finished up her notes and decided to call it a night. As she settled into bed, her phone buzzed. She picked it up to find another message from Ghost.

TwitchGhost: Can’t wait to see where this story leads. Sweet dreams, Y/N. 😘

Y/N smiled and quickly typed back, her fingers dancing over the screen.

Y/NUserName: Goodnight, Ghost. 

She set her phone down, turned off the bedside lamp, and snuggled under the covers. As she drifted off to sleep, her thoughts swirled with the possibilities that awaited both in her writing and her streaming.

A few weeks later, Y/N received an unexpected surprise. Bad Omens had announced their next tour and her manager, Andy, had secured a spot for them both on the guest list for the date in the city a couple hours from her hometown. She not only got to see her favorite band live, but she would get the chance to meet them after the show. 

She excitedly announced the news to her followers on the next stream.

“Hey everyone!” Y/N’s excitement was palpable as she spoke into the camera. “I’ve got some super exciting news to share! I don’t know what my manager did, but I’m going to see Bad Omens next month! Not only that, but I’ll also get to meet them after the show. I’m over the freakin moon right now!”

The chat exploded with enthusiasm, her followers sharing in her excitement and asking if she would be able to get any exclusive behind-the-scenes content. Y/N promised to do her best to share the experience and make everyone feel like they were part of it.

As Y/N wrapped up her stream, she noticed a new direct message notification from Ghost. Her heart raced with anticipation as she opened it.

TwitchGhost: Bad Omens, huh? That’s incredible! I’m jealous. Have you ever met them before?

Y/N couldn’t help but smile, her excitement bubbling up again.

Y/NUserName: I’ve never met them before. This will be my first time! I’m so excited I can barely contain myself.

TwitchGhost: I bet you’re going to have an amazing time. I’m curious, though—what would you say to them if you had the chance?

Y/N’s fingers flew over the keyboard as she typed her reply, her thoughts racing with the possibility of meeting the band.

Y/NUserName: I’d probably gush about how much their music has meant to me. And if I were feeling brave, I might even mention that I have a crush on their lead singer. 😉

TwitchGhost: Haha, that’s a bold move! I’m sure they’d appreciate hearing how much their music means to you. That lead singer would be a lucky guy. 😉

Y/N felt a flush of warmth at Ghost’s words, her thoughts wandering to the idea of meeting the mysterious person behind the messages that had become such a cherished part of her life.

Y/NUserName: Well it probably wouldn’t work out anyway. I kinda already have someone else who’s been keeping me on my toes. 

TwitchGhost: Oh? Celebrity crush has some competition then? Anyone I know? 😏

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat at his playful inquiry.

Y/NUserName: Maybe…

Y/NUserName: I need to get back to writing now. But I’ll let you know how everything goes. 

TwitchGhost: Can’t wait to hear all about it. Good luck with the writing, and remember, if you need any more inspiration, you know where to find me. 😉

Y/NUserName: Thanks, Ghost. I’ll keep that in mind. Talk to you soon!

TwitchGhost: Goodnight, Y/N!

Y/N closed her laptop and set her phone aside, her mind buzzing with excitement about the upcoming concert and the prospect of meeting her favorite band.

As the next few weeks passed, Y/N eagerly counted down the days until the show. She had tried to busy herself with writing Nightmares and unfortunately had to deal with finalizing all of the not so fun logistics of her upcoming book release, but the thought of seeing her favorite band live kept her spirits high.

The night of the concert finally arrived and the excitement was palpable as Y/N and Andy arrived at the venue. They received their passes from the ticket window and were guided inside by a staff member. As they grabbed a spot at the barricade, Y/N was recognized by a few of the fans who were already inside as part of their VIP pass access. She spent the next hour chatting with a few of them about the band and telling them what she could about her new books. 

The lights dimmed and the crowd's anticipation grew palpable as the guitarist, Jolly, walked on stage and the opening notes of Artificial Suicide began to reverberate through the venue. Y/N’s excitement was almost tangible, her eyes glued to the stage as the band’s electrifying performance unfolded. Her and Andy both sang along to each and every verse at the top of their lungs. The music was everything she had hoped for and more. 

As the last few notes of Dethrone echoed across the room an hour and a half later and the final bows were completed, they let the crowd disperse a little before they navigated their way to the side of the barricade. They showed their passes to Ash, the band’s head of security, before he allowed them backstage with a friendly smile. 

The adrenaline from the concert was still coursing through Y/N’s veins as they eventually met with the band’s tour manager, Matt, who introduced himself. 

“The guys are cooling off and getting changed really quick. If you’ll follow me, I’ll take you ladies outside to where they’ll be hanging out while we tear down and finish up loadout.” He said leading them to a makeshift sitting area the band had put together outside their bus earlier in the day. 

After a few minutes the band members slowly but surely made their way outside, each introducing themself as they found a seat and fell into easy conversation with the two of them. 

The lead singer, Noah, was the last to emerge. He wore an oversized merch hoodie, a pair of joggers, and slides. Despite being comfortably dressed, his striking presence was undeniable.

“Hi, I’m Y/N?” She introduced herself, holding out her hand. 

Noah’s smile broadened as he stepped closer and took her hand in his.

“Oh, he knows who you are…” Jolly teased from where he sat at one of the picnic tables. 

She turned to look at him before looking back at Noah with a confused look. 

The tall man chuckled in response, before rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand. 

“Eh, well, I had to make sure my favorite author enjoyed seeing her favorite band. And, I couldn’t miss the chance to meet the person behind the screen. I mean I am still holding out hope for that coffee date…”

Y/N’s eyes widened as she took in his presence, a mix of shock and delight washing over her. 

“You’re Ghost?!” 

“Guilty as charged,” Noah said with a wink. “I guess I managed to keep my two worlds separate for a while. But I couldn't resist. I wanted to see you. actually, I’ve been wanting to for a while.”

Y/N felt her cheeks flush as she took in his words. “Well, you definitely pulled off an incredible surprise. I never would have guessed.”

Noah’s gaze softened as he took a step closer. “I wanted to see if you’d react the way you just did. And I’m glad I did.”

They continued to chat, and Y/N found herself falling deeper into conversation with Noah. It felt surprisingly natural, almost like she had known him for a while. They talked about music, books, and even the quirky things that had happened during her streams.

As their conversation flowed effortlessly, Y/N noticed how Noah’s eyes seemed to sparkle with genuine interest. It was as if he was completely absorbed in the discussion, and she felt a magnetic connection.

Eventually, the band’s crew finished loading out and a few of them started to talk about wanting to go out before the bus call at 2am. 

“Hey, do you have any plans after this?”

Y/N shook her head. 

“Not really. Why?”

Noah’s smile widened. 

“Well, if you’re up for it, I’d love to maybe take you out for that coffee. There’s a café nearby that’s open late.”

Y/N’s heart raced. She glanced around and Andy gave her a knowing look, mouthing “GO!”. 

Her eyes met Noah’s, and she could see the sincerity in his expression.

“I’d like that,” she replied softly.

They walked together to the café, and as they settled into a corner table, the conversation continued seamlessly. They talked about everything from their childhood memories to their dreams and even their fears. The more they talked, the more Y/N felt an undeniable connection.

As the night wore on, Noah’s gaze lingered on Y/N with an intensity that made her heart flutter. Their laughter and shared stories created an intimate atmosphere.

On the walk back to the venue, Noah paused and reached out, taking Y/N’s hand gently into his. 

“I have to admit, I’ve really enjoyed spending time with you tonight.” 

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat. She looked into Noah’s eyes, her feelings mirrored in his gaze. 

“I feel the same way.”

“I’d really like to keep getting to know you and see where all this goes, if that's okay with you?” He questioned, stepping closer. 

“I’d like that.” She answered, glancing up at him. 

He smiled down at her, his eyes briefly drifting toward her lips and back. 

Slowly, Noah stepped even closer and he cupped Y/N’s face in his hand, his touch sending a warm shiver through her. 

He leaned forward and their lips met in an electrifying kiss. It was gentle at first, but as the moment deepened, their kiss became more passionate. The connection they felt was palpable, and it seemed to solidify everything they had shared that night.

When they finally pulled away, their faces were flushed, and they both wore wide, contented smiles.

“I’m really glad you came tonight,” Noah said softly, his thumb brushing lightly over Y/N’s hand.

“Me too,” Y/N replied, her heart full. “This has been one of the best nights of my life.”

As they walked side by side, Y/N couldn’t help but think about how surreal and wonderful this evening had been. Not only had she met her favorite band, but she had also found her Ghost. 

With an exchange of phone numbers and the promise of staying in touch they went their separate ways. But not before Noah leaned in for one last, lingering kiss, making Y/N’s heart skip a beat.

The night had turned into something extraordinary. An unexpected but perfect blend of their separate worlds colliding into something beautiful. 

[pinkydevil16]

Unsub! Reid x Reader

18+ murder, blood, sex 

Y/n typed away at her computer as she thought about what to have for dinner, her mind going back and forth between forcing herself to cook or ordering takeout. Sighing she looked at the clock, 10 minutes left and she could pack her bag and be out the door by 5pm. Her nails clicked against the keyboard as she finished up the last report, her job just to check the BAU’s reports and finalise any details before they were sent to head office for review. It sounded easy, but each case brought in one report per BAU member and some of them ran behind more often than not, not that Y/n blamed them with their insane work schedule.

“Hey Y/n.” Spencer’s voice was chirpy as he poked his head into her little office, a small smile gracing his face as Y/n grinned and ushered him in.

“Hey Spence, you got more reports for me?” Y/n teased as she held out her hand, Spencer blushing slightly with a nervous smile handing her three folders with messy papers inside as Y/n shook her head and laughed.

“I swear if you weren’t so cute i’d kick you out of my office for handing these to me at 10 to five.” Spencer could feel his ears burn as she complimented him, her eyes now on the paperwork as she skimmed it, she knew she’d only have to upload his work since she’d never found a single error in the past 3 years. 

“Thanks Y/n.” Spencer stumbled over his words as he pushed his hair back and waved, exiting her office as Y/n sighed and placed the folders on top of the others she had accumulated in the last few hours. It was a friday and she didn’t want to stay late but the thought of picking it all up Monday was much less appealing.

She could hear everyone saying bye and leaving, JJ, Emily and Derek popping their heads in to wave goodbye whilst Y/n waved and continued typing up the reports. 

“Hey Beautiful.” Penelope spoke as she entered, sitting across from Y/n as they grinned at each other, Y/n taking a break to lean against her hand and stare at her friend.

“Hey gorgeous, what can i do ya for?” Y/n winked at Penelope as the blonde giggled and looked at her desk.

“I fancy a sex on the beach and you’re just the gal i’m looking for to provide it.” Penelope flirted back, the two laughing as Y/n leant back in her chair and looked at her reports, she was only half way through the first of three that she wanted done. Penelope quickly stood and placed her hands on the folders, Y/n pouting at her friend as she gave her a devilish grin.

“The reports will be here Monday, however $3 cocktails and nachos won’t be.” Y/n rolled her eyes and stood up, Penelope cheering as she watched Y/n grab her bag and turn off her computer.

“In that case how could i say no?” 

Y/n and Penelope laughed loudly as they drank their fourth cocktail, a pornstar martini, the both merry as they spoke about their plans for the weekend.

“Honestly i think i’m going to be so hungover tomorrow the way we’re going that i’ll be laid on the sofa all day.” Y/n laughed as Penelope spoke about her plans, Y/n agreeing as the pair ordered two more cocktails. 

“So…how was your date?” Y/n groaned at Penelope’s comment, sinking into her seat as she sipped from her straw.

“I thought it went really well, we shared a kiss and he promised to call me the next day. Three days later i tried to call him, which sounds so desperate now i say it but he was really nice y’know? And it says the number doesn’t exist.” Penelope reached over and took her hand, sympathising with her friend as Y/n finished her cocktail and smiled at the waiter as he brought the next round. The cute black haired man winking at her as he placed the cocktail in front of her, a napkin placed next to it as he walks away. Penelope grabbed the napkin and squealed, Y/n sitting up straight as she looked between her friend and the cute waiter.

“Well then tonight just might be your lucky night! He left his number and wrote he finishes at 11.” Y/n blushed and grinned as she took the paper, looking towards the waiter where he stood, leaning against the bar with his finger in a call signal grinning at her. Y/n turned back to Penelope and the pair giggled and began drinking their cocktails, the waiter coming over and flirting with Y/n periodically. 

Penelope looked at her watch with a drunken grin, standing up on wobbly legs as she pulled out her phone and dialled Derek knowing he would come get her in a heartbeat.

“Well my beautiful squirrel friend, it is 10 to 11 and the hot waiter is basically undressing you with his eyes so i am going to take my leave. Don’t do anything i wouldn’t.” Y/n laughed, standing and hugging Penelope before she watched the bubbly blonde leave, hearing her speak to Derek as the waiter walked over.

“Can i get you another drink? On me.” His hand extended as Y/n placed hers in his, allowing him to pull her from the booth and towards the bar as she grinned at him.

“I fancy a nightcap.” The waiter grinned widely as he threw his apron behind the bar and they walked to the exit.

“Whatever the lady wants. James.” Y/n shook his hand as she introduced himself, glad she was more than tipsy for some friday night fun. She needed a pick me up and here was a handsome tall black haired waiter to provide just that. 

Y/n stumbled as she walked, James laughing as he held her up, the pair talking about anything that came to their heads before Y/n’s phone buzzed. Pouting, she stopped walking, James holding her elbow as she answered it.

“Hellloooooo.” Y/n’s voice was full of cheer as she grinned at James, wiggling her eyebrows as he dropped his head to her neck and peppered kisses along the exposed skin.

“Hey Y/n, it’s Spence, are you at home?” Y/n covered the speaker and whispered to James.

“Stop distracting me.” Her smile giving away that she wanted him to do it more as he pulled her into his chest and kissed her. Parting quickly as she placed the phone back against her ear.

“Hey Spencey, no i’m out right now, is everything okay?” Her voice sweet as she swayed in James’ arms, his hands roaming her body and pinching her eliciting drunken giggles as she looked at him.

“Mrs Fredicks just knocked saying Dorito has somehow climbed onto her fire escape and she’s got him with her.” Y/n face palmed as she moved off of James and mouthed an apology to him as she sobered up slightly.

“Oh god, okay i’ll be back asap, i swear i locked all the windows but he is an escape artist.”

“Sorry.” Y/n hushed Spencer, thanking him for calling her and hung up. Turning to James she gave him an apologetic smile and leaned into his arms.

“I am sorry James but i have to go, my cat has decided to cockblock me.” James laughed and placed a kiss on her lips, his hands squeezing her hips as she let out a small moan.

“It’s okay Y/n, next time you come to the bar, drinks will be on me.” Y/n grinned as she waved goodbye and hailed a taxi. 

Y/n sighed as she knocked on the apartment below hers, smiling apologetically to Mrs Fredicks as she older lady opened the door with her ginger cat in tow.

“Here you go.” Y/n apologised profusely as she took Dorito from her neighbour, the older lady waving her off with a smile.

“It’s okay, he’s a sweet boy.” Y/n thanked her again as the door closed, turning and holding her cat up to face her as she scowled at him.

“You Mr Dorito are in big trouble.” Y/n placed kisses over his face as she cuddled him close, unlocking her apartment and letting Dorito in before she went around and found the bathroom window open. Shaking her head she closed it, she swore she had closed that before she left this morning but she must have forgotten. Sighing she kicked off her shoes and grabbed her slippers, exiting her apartment and walking over to the door on the right knocking as she waited for an answer. Spencer answered moments later with a sleepy smile, matching check pyjama’s on brand for him as Y/n smiled up at him.

“Hey Pretty boy, thank you for calling me. Dorito’s all safe and sound.” Spencer nodded and leant against his doorway as he took her in, the smell of cocktails and her smeared lipstick giving her away before she yawned and rubbed her eyes.

“Thank you again Spence, have a good night.” Y/n waved to him as he wished her good night back and closed his door. Y/n entering her apartment and stripping down before flopping on her bed and passing out. 

Y/n was awoken suddenly as she heard her phone blaring, her head pounding as she got out of bed and wandered around her apartment searching for the obnoxious noise. Finding her phone buzzing on the sofa she grabbed it and answered it quickly.

“Hello?” Y/n didn’t have a chance to fully wake up before she heard Penelope’s loud voice.

“Oh my god you’re okay! Thank god! Have you seen the news?” Y/n held the phone away from her ear before yawning and shaking her head.

“No, why?” Y/n heard Penelope gasp before she said she’d be over soon, before Y/n could say anything the phone was cut off. Sighing she wiped her eyes and turned on the tv, her jaw dropping as she saw James’ picture all over the news.

“A man was detained last night after police found human remains in his house and garden. The suspect was apprehended and arrested by local law enforcement for three hours before a handwritten confession was handed to the chief. The man’s name is James Stevens and he is being held in police custody until a court date can be arranged. So far none of the remains have been identified but we have been told there was atleast three women’s bones found with potentially more to be discovered. This was the morning news at 8am, stay tuned for the weather.” Y/n turned the tv off as she stared at the screen wide eyed, she had almost gone home with him, she could have been his next murder. She could feel her body shiver in disgust as she ran the shower, turning it up as she climbed in and tried to clean the man off her, scrubbing at her lips and cleansing herself. Climbing out she wrapped a towel around herself, hearing her apartment door open and the sound of Penelope clattering about.

“In the bedroom.” Y/n shouted as she grabbed a t-shirt, throwing it on and pulling on some underwear as Penelope ran in and pulled her into a tight hug.

“When i saw the news i almost had a heart attack!” Y/n let out a small laugh and hugged her back. 

“I’m okay, luckily Spence called me as Dorito had gotten out.” Penelope let go of Y/n and picked Dorito up from the bed, the ginger cat letting out a grumble as she kissed him dramatically.

“You angel Dorito!” Y/n laughed and shook her head as she walked through her apartment and flopped onto the sofa, Penelope carrying Dorito as she came in and sat beside her.

“Seriously though, that’s so creepy.” Y/n nodded as she ran her hands down her face, fingers pulling on her under eye as she groaned. 

“Why is my life like this?” Penelope pat her friend's arm as she grabbed the remote and turned on Netflix.

“Let's have a chill day.” Y/n nodded as she grabbed her phone and sent Spence a quick text thanking him for calling her last night. 

Spencer grinned as he read the message, his apartment dark as he laid on his sofa, his eyes moving to the tv where he watched the video of James being arrested again. He felt pride surge through him as he stood, his hand running along the fabric of the sofa as he entered his kitchen, sighing to himself as he began cleaning the blood soaked knife. 

Y/n smiled at Spencer as she opened her apartment door, Spence smiling back as he took in her attire, a fitted white blouse and black jeans which complimented her figure.

“Thank you for walking me in, sorry it was such short notice i’m still a bit freaked out from the news.” Spencer nodded and moved so Y/n could lock her door, placing the key in her bag before turning to Spencer.

“It’s no problem Y/n, i love walking in with you.” Y/n smiled widely at Spencer as the pair began walking down the stairs, Y/n listening intently to Spencer’s ramble about the new chest move he had learnt over the weekend. His voice full of joy as he moved his hands around explaining how it would corner most opponents, his laugh contagious as she laughed too and explained how she had only won one chess game in her whole life.

“You’ll have to come round and have a game with me, i’ll teach you everything.” Y/n blushed slightly as she agreed, pushing her hair behind her ear and grinning.

“That would be amazing, thank you Spence.” 

Spencer walked around his apartment, his mind whirling as he tried to make everything look purposefully out of place and disorganised as he wanted everyone to believe he was. He’d cleaned the apartment from head to toe before casually splitting coffee and placing a mug over it to make mug stains over the various surfaces. The kitchen had coffee granules and sugar sporadically spread across it to emanate use, the fridge had a mixture of fresh and out of date food, not by a lot but enough that he could be seen as forgetful of it. He’d laid certain books out, coffee stains on specific pages and a pen that he’d broken leaked onto another one. His bed was lazily made, spraying his everyday scent onto the pillows and the sofa to make it seem like he was there often. He’d left a few articles of clothing in a pile on the floor, all clean but purposefully mixed about to create a laundry pile. His bathroom had a toothbrush on the sink, toothpaste put in a cup and a couple of body washes sat at the bottom of the shower. A fresh towel he’d sprayed down with water hung up on the radiator, and the window cracked slightly. It looked like someone truly lived in it, as opposed to his normal almost borderline military lifestyle within the four walls. He placed a case file on the coffee table, opening it and placing pictures around to look like he’d recently looked through it, a half finished coffee sat next to it along with a breakfast bar wrapper. Nodding he concluded it was perfect before he texted Y/n to say she could come over whenever she was ready. It took her 30 minutes before she knocked, 30 minutes of pouring over each detail of his outfit and hair, making it look messy yet attractive. Opening the door he gave her a pathetic smile allowing her in, Y/n gushing over his apartment, looking at all his books and giggling at all the coffee stains.

“You really need to cut down.” She teased Spencer pretending to be embarrassed as he cleared the half filled cup and shoved the case file into a drawer, a bashful smile on his face as he told her to make herself at home. Entering the kitchen he pretended to clean, washing the cup up and placing it down. He watched  her as she sat down, her hands running over the fabric and smiling to herself at the book placed next to the seat, her head turning to read the page. Grabbing two drinks from the fridge he walked in, smiling as he handed her one and sat next to her.

“If you ever want to borrow any of my books you're more than welcome but i can’t promise they won’t be stained or full of pen marks.” Y/n giggled as she opened the drink, looking around before placing it carefully on the coffee table and clasping her hands together.

“Alright Genius, show me how to play chess.” Spencer grinned as he grabbed his board, spreading it out and spending hours pouring every bit of knowledge he could into Y/n. His mind took in each part of her as she nodded along and tried each move, her eyes lighting up when she captured a piece or pouting when Spencer won. It was so domestic, so perfect and exactly what he desired, for her to be in his space and to enjoy him as he enjoyed her. 

Y/n yawned as she looked outside, the sky was now dark as she smiled at Spencer, his eyes half open as she watched him take her King.

“You are way too good at this. Thank you for an amazing day.” Spencer smiled as she stood, standing with her as she gave him a hug and pulled back, running a hand through her hair.

“I’d better check on Dorito incase he’s somehow broken out again.” Y/n laughed and waved at Spencer as she opened his apartment door, his hand coming to hold it as he watched her enter her apartment. Her voice sweet as she called out to Dorito, a small giggle coming from behind the door before it closed. Spencer closed the door and sighed, itching his head from the headache he’d had all day. Trying to hold in his own thoughts and control his impulses was tiring, especially when she was sitting so close he could smell her conditioner. 

Entering his bedroom he unlocked his bedroom door, smirking as he pulled out her underwear and laid on the bed, smelling them with his eyes closed as he pictured her laid out in front of him. Her eyes half closed and chest rising and falling as he thrust into her, his hand dropping to his cock as he released it and thrust into his palm. He imagined how she’d look at him as he made her play her next move, her breasts bouncing as he thrust harshly into her making her moan, hand shakily grabbing a pawn and pushing it two places forward. He’d easily take the piece and in return he’d bite her nipple, hand on her hip as she whined and clenched around his cock, his eyes meeting hers and indicating to the board. Her eyes brimming with tears as he dropped a hand to her clit and forced her closer to the edge, a choked moan coming out as she knocked over the chess pieces. His own moan cut into his fantasy as he spilled over his hand, panting as he opened his eyes and moved the underwear off his face. Huffing as he got up and entering the bathroom, showering quickly before staring at himself in the mirror. 

He needed a plan. 

Spencer poured over the ideas in his head as he held onto the blade in his pocket, he’d already enacted his first part of the plan and now it was time to put it all into place. Breaking down the door he attacked the lady, his knife slicing through her carotid artery and stabbed her multiple times, the glove on his hand feeling wet from the blood before he threw the knife to the side. The shoes too big for his feet stomped in the blood as he trailed around the apartment, throwing things onto the ground and finding her address book. Opening it to the correct page and smearing a bloodied glove print over the name before he left, leaving the door slightly ajar as he did. 

Y/n cried as she sat in Hotch’s office, Penelope and JJ sat with her as they explained James Stevens had escaped prison and her neighbour Mrs Fredricks had been found murdered. She didn’t know how to process the information as Hotch turned a photo over to her, an address book had been found in Mrs Fredricks apartment, Y/n’s name and number scribbled down by the lady with Doritos name next to it and a little heart. Blood covering the page as she shakily took the photo and sobbed. Penelope consoling her as JJ looked over the photo and frowned at Hotch. 

“I think it would be best if we put you in secure housing and have someone with you until we can find him.” Penelope agreed with Hotch as she hugged her friend, Y/n nodding as she wiped her tears and stood, thanking Hotch as she left his office. Her head down as she bumped into Spencer, his eyes full of hurt as he hugged her, her tears soaking his jumper as he comforted her.

“I’m so sorry Y/n, I know how much you liked Mrs Fredricks.” Y/n nodded against his chest and sniffled as she raised her head and wiped her eyes.

“I just don’t understand why someone would do that to her. She was so sweet and all because of me, she’s dead because of me Spence.” Spencer went to comfort her but she brushed past him and rushed to the ladies toilets, his name being called by Hotch as he pretended to look concerned and entered his office. 

Spencer grinned as he watched James struggle in his chair, tears streaming down his face as he begged for his life.

“Please, i don’t understand. I did what you wanted, i, i confessed and i didn’t say anything. Please. Please just let me go. Please.” His voice cracked from his begging as he sobbed, Spencer laughing as he slowly pressed the needle into his arm, watching James eyes squeeze close before opening, pupils blown and brain slowly rotting from the drugs. 

“I need you for just a bit longer James, just enough to get her into my arms. Then and only then, do you get to die.” 

Y/n hugged herself as she sat on the sofa, the safe house felt so empty apart from her and Dorito, no neighbours moving around, no opening or closing of doors. Just her and her cat, she knew an agent was outside watching but she didn’t feel safe in the slightest, it had been a week and two more bodies had turned up. It had terrified Y/n to the core how similar they looked to her, and each one more brutalised than the other. Jumping she heard a knock, her hands shaking as the door opened revealing Spencer, a takeaway pizza in his hands and an apologetic smile on his face.

“I’m sorry for scaring you.” Y/n calmed her heart and smiled sadly back at him, watching him closely as he placed the pizza down and locked the door, checking outside before closing the curtains and sitting beside her.

“How are you?” Y/n just nodded in response, opening the pizza and taking a bite as she leant against Spencer and took solace in his company. 

“I don’t know.” Spencer nodded, taking a slice and eating it as he felt her relax against him, her warmth invading him as her scent captured his senses and his whole body reacted to her closeness. 

Spencer spent the next week going between the safe house and Y/n’s apartment, his FBI badge allowing him private entrance over and over as he did as he pleased. Sifting through her lingerie, showering with her products, taking her clothes and personal items. Anything and everything he desired to do was easy to accomplish, all he had to do was kill someone every now and again. It brought him such a thrill to watch the life leave their eyes, to know how pitifully they died at his hands and that each kill brought Y/n further into his arms. 

Now he was going to make sure she didn’t leave them.

Y/n curled up next to Spencer on the sofa, the lightning crackling outside making her jump as he soothed her, the tv playing some movie she couldn’t concentrate on as she heard a gunshot. Her body jumped up as Spencer’s eyes widened, his hand grabbing hers as he pushed her into the bathroom, handing her a gun with shaky hands and demanding she stay there. Y/n could feel tears falling down her face as she stared at the gun in horror, another gun shot rang out and she began sobbing, every noise making her body want to collapse onto the floor. 

Spencer held a gun close to his side as he ran around the building, hiding his smirk at the FBI agent on the ground, blood dripping from the gunshot wound to the head and stab wounds to his chest, turning her saw James stumbling towards the entrance of the safe house. His gun raised as he let out a shot, pretending to curse himself as it missed, he knew the BAU would be here soon after someone saw the video feed. Now he ran inside, calling out to Y/n as he found her, her gun on the floor as James held a knife to her throat protecting his body from Spencer. His eyes dilated and breathing resembling that of a rabid animal. Spencer held the gun up, showing James he was of no threat as he watched his commands take over.

“Back away or i slit her throat Pig.” His voice was almost robotic as he read off the mental script he’d been hypnotised to recall. 

“James, you don’t want to do this. Please give her to me.” James pressed the blade closer to her throat as Spencer pretended to step forward out of concern and winced at her face, eyes darting to her as she cried.

“Y/n. Y/n listen to me. It’s going to be okay.” Y/n tried to nod, her eyes staring into Spencer’s as he gave her a reassuring smile and looked back at James with an angry look.

“Put the knife down and we can talk this through James. No one has to get hurt.” The last three words triggered James’ next actions as he moved the knife away from Y/n’s throat, his arm still around it as he pointed it to Spencer and shook with anger.

“Oh yes they do! You all just had to get involved when i was finally getting what i wanted! All she had to do was come back to mine and die.” He seethed, Y/n shaking in fear before he threw her down and ran at Spencer, Y/n watching in horror as the knife slid along Spencer’s arm before he managed to shove James off. His gun shot twice before James’ body hit the ground, Y/n letting out a scream as his head rolled to the side and his eyes bore into her head. Spencer ran to her, holding her tightly as his blood dripped down his arm, her body collapsing into his as she clung to him for dear life. His words echoing in her head as he coaxed her to stand, turning her head away from James as he guided her out the house, a sob escaping her as she saw the agent on the ground but Spencer turned her away. The team arrived moments later as Penelope engulfed her in a hug and Derek tried to get Spencer to seek medical attention but he played his part perfectly. Refusing treatment, saying he was okay, wincing when Derek touched his arm. Everything was falling perfectly into place, the ambulance cleaned him up and just like that he was holding Y/n in the back of the SUV whilst Derek drove them to the apartment block. 

Spencer held open her apartment door as Y/n stood in the doorway, her arms hugging her before she looked back at Spencer

“Umm…could i stay with you tonight Spence?” Spencer pretended to be shocked and nodded, giving her a concerned look as she shuffled out the doorway allowing him to lock her apartment and watched her follow him to his. He unlocked the door and opened it, letting her in as he mumbled an apology for the mess. Y/n not even responding as she awkwardly stood in his living room, he’d made sure it looked more chaotic, a case file on James on the coffee table, aswell as pictures of each of his victims and a map of where he’d been. Pretending to panic he rushed around hiding them all as Y/n walked towards the pictures, picking up one of the victims photos and staring at it blankly as he slowly approached her.

“I’m sorry i didn’t think.” Y/n shook her head and looked up at him, handing him the picture as he shoved it inside the case file and carded his hand through his hair in fake stress.

“You don’t need to be sorry Spence. You saved my life.” Y/n reached up giving him a kiss on the cheek as he blushed, a real one that made his whole body tingle in excitement as she hugged herself closed.

“Do you…do you want to shower and i’ll set the bed up? I’ll sleep on the sofa.” Y/n nodded emptily as she wandered into the bathroom, a grin coming over Spencer’s face as he threw a blanket and pillow on the sofa, entering his bedroom as he made sure it was perfect. The bed was fresh but he’d made sure to lay in it multiple times and spray it aggressively so the second she touched it she’d be reminded of him. Grabbing a t shirt and boxers he folded up a towel and placed them outside the bathroom door, listening intently as he heard her showering, his mind demanding he enter and fuck her under the hot water. To fill her fully with him whilst she cried but he knew it would be much sweeter to wait. 

He waited by the kitchen as he heard the shower turn off, her feet padding against the floor for a while before he could hear her gasp and realise she had no clothes, the door opening a crack as she went to call his name. Her eyes dropping to the clothes as she smiled with teary eyes and collected them, his smile turning dark as he chuckled to himself, pouring tea for both himself and Y/n as she exited the shower.

“Thank you for the clothes.” Spencer nodded as he handed her the tea, apologising for it being a little cold as he hadn’t got the timing quite right but she brushed him off, drinking it with a little moan as she felt her body relax, a smile on her face as she looked at him. Y/n shuffled her feet for a minute as she looked between the cup and the sad excuse for a bed Spencer had made, guilt filling her before she put the cup down and looked at him fully.

“I can’t thank you enough for everything you’ve done for me Spence, I can't have you sleep on the sofa, if you’re okay with it maybe we could share the bed?” She knew he would never let her sleep on the sofa, he was too sweet for that and she watched as he blushed and stumbled over his words coming up with excuses before he looked at her desperate face and agreed. Y/n smiling as she took his hand and guided him into the bedroom, both shy as they crawled into the bed, Spencer pretending to be rigid as she curled up to him.

“Is this okay?” Spencer nodded as Y/n gulped and hugged him, basking in his warmth as she felt him slowly relax, aware of how he was trying to be as respectful as he could. Y/n felt his arms slowly close around her as she closed her eyes and felt safe with him, his lips meeting her head in a quick kiss before he apologised.

“I’m sorry.” He stuttered out, red in the face as Y/n looked up at him, her eyes dropping to his lips before she slowly moved forward, eyes finding his to give him time to move away before she met his lips. The two closing their eyes as they kissed, hands slowly becoming harsher until Y/n was panting under him as he claimed her mouth. Both panting and frantic as Spencer stripped Y/n, her hands scrambling to push his shirt over his head, barely moving away to do so until their lips met again. Hot and heavy as her legs fell open allowing him between them, her hands clutching onto his upper arms as she moaned against his lips. Their bodies grinding against one another as he desperately tried to push down his bottoms, her hands coming to untie the knot holding them up as they giggled, eyes finding each other before they slowed down. Their kisses were more gentle and full of meaning as Spencer fully stripped, his body pulling away from hers to crawl down her body when she stopped him.

“You don’t…you don’t need to go down. I’m ready.” She felt ashamed at how aroused she was, Spencer’s eyes dropping to her pussy as he held in a moan at how soaked she was. For him. Nodding he pretended to be bashful as he kissed her, her arms around his back as he kissed down her neck, sucking and biting her collarbones. He could tell she was getting restless, her legs wiggling and hips lifting slightly to meet his cock before he lined up and raised his head.

“Are you sure?” Y/n nodded quickly, pulling his head back down to kiss him as he pushed halfway in, reminding himself he had to be timid, inexperienced and unsure, not overly confident and ready to fuck her so hard she screamed. Instead he looked at her as she nodded and bit her lip, a moan dropping from her lips as he slowly pushed further, his eyes full of care as he watched her face contort in pleasure. Her nails digging into his skin until he was fully in, her breath shaky as she ran her hands along his shoulders, one twisting in his hair whilst the other held his neck. Her head raising to meet his lips as he began thrusting, slowly and controlled, stuttering his hips to emanate that of someone unsure, each thrust gradually getting deeper as she moaned. Spencer moaned her name as he pushed his head between her shoulder and neck, kissing along her neck as she whimpered in pleasure. His thrusts now quick and long, his body fully controlled and each thrust powerful as he felt her jolt in pleasure and squeeze his cock each time. He could tell she was getting close, her pussy a vice-like grip on his cock as she moaned his name and clung to him. Raising his head he kissed her deeply, a hand reaching down to rub her clit as her head fell back and body spasmed, just like that she was cumming around his cock. He knew her body so well he could tell how deep he needed to thrust to optimise her pleasure, to push her over the edge and force her to whimper at overstimulation. Panting he pressed his forehead against hers as he slowed, pretending to not know what to do as she mumbled.

“No…no i’m okay. Keep going, please, i want you to cum.” The words alone made his dick pulse, making her squirm as he nodded and kissed her gently, his eyes now watching his cock slide in and out of her pussy as he quickened, her moans filling his ears as she cried out, pussy tightening around him as he moaned and came suddenly. His own mind was blown by how quickly he had lost control, eyes shooting open to stare at Y/n, her eyes still closed whilst her pussy milked him. His thrusts slowed until he stilled and let some of his weight go, her hands running up and down soothingly on his back. He went to move off but instead she locked her legs and shook her head, both of them sweaty and boiling as they cuddled, his soft cock nestled in her pussy as their breathing slowed until he could hear Y/n had fallen asleep. Raising his head he slipped from her pussy, watching her carefully to ensure she was asleep before spreading her lips and watching his cum seep out. Using his finger he pushed it back in, loving how she whined at the intrusion but her pussy took him so well. Chuckling to himself he laid beside her, pulling her into his side as he fell asleep beside her. 

Y/n didn’t move back into her own apartment, instead she moved Dorito in and Spencer had to remove any trace of his previous stalking from existence. Now he had her in blissful domestic life, she worked from home, case files brought home by Spencer so she could relax all day after he fucked her thoroughly each night. A wide smile on her face each time he came home, rushing into his arms and kissing him whilst she asked about his day. He’d finally gotten everything he wanted, sure he still would go out and kill every so often, just to quench the need but when he returned and felt her hug him it all slipped away. It was just bliss. His plan had worked, she was his. 

[honeyhotteoks]

this night together - chapter twelve (j.yh + s.mg)

chapter twelve: home is always home

chapter summary: you were planning to tell them how you felt on saturday, but when things go sideways at the studio you find yourself running home as fast as you can.

warnings: this is the chapter i've been warning about for a long, long time. please read responsibly if you're easily triggered by any of the following topics - guy who can't take no for an answer, aggressive/sexist language, physical and verbal assault, panic/ptsd, physical injury/blood, hospitals, police interaction (mentioned), nightmares/night terrors, self harm (sort of?)

notes: please note, if you're reading this on or around 12.3.23 when i'm posting, i've put up three chapters at once. make sure you don't skip chapter ten and eleven! additional notes under the cut~!

pairings: alpha!yunho x alpha!mingi x omega!reader

genre: smut, a/b/o/omegaverse, angst, fluff, romance, polyamory

word count: 11.6k

previous chapter | next chapter | AO3

for my readers who aren't that familiar with a/b/o, i'm introducing something in this chapter that you may not have seen before. i wanted to add some context! if you're new to a/b/o, there is something that alphas have often called "alpha tone", "alpha voice", or just "tone". alphas in many depictions have the ability to lower their voice in a particular way that is seen as a strict command to an omega, and it triggers/activates their submission. this is something that can be used negatively or positively, but in this scene will be negative. there's also something called headspace/subspace that you will see referenced, and an omega can be put into headspace/subspace via alpha tone. it is a bit of a dissociative state where the omega can only really hear and understand commands. this can be used negatively or positively as well, but again, definitely not good in this scene. i hope that helps.... and happy/responsible reading!!

You really, really wish today was Saturday and not Thursday. Thursday just means you still have to get through Friday and then all of Saturday morning before your scheduled dinner with Yunho and Mingi and all the things you want to say are practically eating you up inside. But there’s a right way and a wrong way to tell someone you’ve been an idiot and you’re in love with them, and blurting it out in the middle of dance practice isn’t really going to help make this easier. 

God, you hope they still want you. 

On the plus side, this week has been insane. With the full crew back things are moving at a million miles per hour, and you’ve been in more meetings about what’s coming up next in the past week than the entire time you’ve worked for BB Trippin and KQ.

Your schedule for the next six months is frankly intense. Between preparing for year-end stages and working on the choreography for the newly debuting girl group, you’re juggling conversations about New World’s next comeback and the next round of touring. With the money coming in now there’s an opportunity to take more dancers, and that just means more late nights and early mornings getting everything right. 

It’s after your third concept planning meeting of the week that you find two minutes to talk to Wooyoung, his bag already slung over his shoulder as he refills his water bottle. 

“So, you’re going?” You ask him vaguely, trying not to tip off anyone else in the vicinity that he’s got a date. 

“Yeah,” He nods, eyes flicking over your shoulder to see if San and Seonghwa are nearby, “I think I’m going to throw up,” 

“No, you’re not,” You assure him. 

“I might,” He whines, running a hand through his mop of long black hair, “I never know what to say to him,” 

“Woo,” 

“I know what to say to everyone, y/n,” He lowers his voice, panic evident in his eyes, “but every time Sangie smiles I go fucking blank,” 

“Sangie?” Your eyebrow quirks, “Is that what we’re calling him now,” 

“Shut up,” Wooyoung blushes. 

“Wow,” You prod him softly, “you’re down so bad, it’s been like three days,” 

“It’s so bad,” He grimaces, “this is embarrassing,” 

“Now you see how I feel,” You smirk, “it’s kind of fun being on this end of things,” 

“Please,” He rolls his eyes, “are you telling me you’re not panicking?” 

“Oh, no,” You laugh, “I definitely am. It’s just nice to know I’m not alone here,” 

“I was never this mean to you,”

You hold his gaze, just blinking, there’s nothing to say to that he doesn’t already know. 

“Okay, fine,” He sighs, “but still, feeling like this,” 

“Feeling like what?” Seonghwa’s voice shocks you both out of your quiet conversation and you both jump back from each other. 

“Jesus,” You breathe, “you scared me,” 

Seonghwa smiles, “Sorry,” he shrugs, “everything okay?” 

“Perfect,” Wooyoung takes a step back and shakes his head, “totally good,” 

Seonghwa’s brows come together in the middle, “You seem like something’s wrong, can I help?” 

Wooyoung almost blanches, and you know he’s dreading telling San and Seonghwa about Yeosang, so you jump in to help. “Woo was just helping me figure out Saturday,” You cover and draw Seonghwa’s attention back to you, “you know, figuring out what to say to them,”

“Oh,” Seonghwa nods, but you can see that he doesn’t really buy it, “right,” 

“Anyways,” Wooyoung starts walking backwards towards the exterior door, “I have to go, but you know, y/n, call me if you need to talk more later,” 

“I will,” You nod, “I definitely will.” 

Wooyoung knows that what you mean is that you want detailed date updates, and he almost looks mortified at the idea. He disappears fast, leaving you and Seonghwa relatively alone in the hallway. 

“What is up with him this week?” Seonghwa asks, confusion on his face. 

“He has a date,” You tell him quietly, “he’s kind of freaking out about it.” 

“Oh,” Seonghwa glances towards the door where Wooyoung just disappeared, “that’s not that weird for him,” 

“It is if he’s this interested after only a few days,” You say, “but don’t tease him. He’s kind of worked up about the whole thing,” 

“Who’s he seeing?” Seonghwa asks. 

“He should tell you that,” You beg off the gossip immediately, “just do me a favor and give him a little space to talk to you and San about it,” 

“Okay,” He draws out the word, not sure exactly where you’re going. 

“He’s nervous about upsetting the delicate balance,” You gesture towards him, referring to the carefully constructed relationship that is Wooyoung, San, and Seonghwa. 

“He’s seeing another alpha?” Seonghwa jumps to that conclusion with ease, and you can see how he would get there. 

You’re shaking your head before you can stop yourself, “It’s not that,” 

That does surprise him, and Seonghwa’s eyes widen a bit, “Oh,” 

“Right,” You nod, leading him to the conclusion as close as you can without spelling it out, “my point is, he’s nervous and he’s got a pretty serious crush, and he hasn’t said so but I think he’s scared you and San won’t approve.” 

“I would never,” He stumbles over his words, “out of anyone, we would never judge him, he has to know that,” 

“Hey,” You reach for Seonghwa, stepping a little closer so your voices stay low in the entryway as you brush your hand down his forearm, “he knows, he’s just panicking a little.” 

“Should I talk to him?” Seonghwa asks, his eyes earnest. 

“Not yet,” You shake your head, “he’ll figure it out, just don’t push him right now. I’ve never seen him this anxious,” 

“I won’t,” He promises, “thank you for telling me,” 

“Mhm,” 

Seonghwa chews over your words a second and then decides to let it drop. With a sigh he refocuses on work, “Are you staying late?” 

“Yeah,” You shrug, “I have some things to catch up on. You?” 

“I need to track down San,” He says, “but then after that I’m probably heading out a little early,” 

“Nice,” You nod, “still shaking off the jetlag?” 

He nods, “Unfortunately,” 

Down the hall you watch a few of the dancers gathering up their belongings, and then the door to the back office opens to reveal Yunho and Mingi, sitting close together and studying a computer screen as Jaemin leaves for the day. 

“Well,” Your feet are already moving, “then I’ll see you later,” 

“Sounds good,” He says, and then he gives you a knowing look, seeing exactly where you’re headed. 

Before you know it, you’re moving through the people in the hall and trying desperately to come up with a reason for crashing their tete-a-tete. 

“Hey,” You knock softly on the open door, “am I interrupting?” 

“No, no,” Yunho smiles when he sees you and your stomach bubbles. 

“We’re just watching back practice,” Mingi leans back in his chair, rubbing his tired eyes. 

“Oh, nice,” You say, and your empty words do little to fill the empty space. 

“Do you… need something?” Yunho tries. 

“Ah, yeah, sorry,” You scramble internally for something to say, “I’m staying late, but I’m kind of starving, I just didn’t know if you still had stuff stashed?” 

“Sure,” He gestures towards the cabinets on the side wall, “whatever you want, help yourself,” 

“Great,” You dash towards the cabinets, and you can’t even imagine eating right now with how fluttery your insides have been, but you snag a couple of protein bars anyways. 

The silence is brutal. Not like before, not like the tense and uncomfortable angry silences of the past, but it’s still sitting there between you. Part of you wants to shut the door right now and just get it all out there, but again, you know you shouldn’t. 

Mingi’s warm, chocolatey scent is richer in here, evident after a hard practice of working up a sweat and being given a chance to permeate with the door closed. You feel your body naturally relaxing at it, so comforting and familiar, and then you get the first pang of Yunho’s warm, summer rain. 

You can hardly believe how you convinced yourself that this wasn’t scent sympathy when right here and now it’s so obvious they belong to you. You wonder if they feel it too. 

“Are you okay?” Mingi’s voice snaps you out of your sudden daydream staring at the cabinet full of snacks. 

“Yeah, yes,” You shut them and step back, “I’m fine, just a little tired.” 

“Not sleeping well?” Yunho says, concern all over his features. 

“I’m fine,” You wave him off, “just a busy week,” 

“You don’t have to stay late,” Mingi offers, “I’m sure whatever you’re working on will still be fine tomorrow,” 

“I know,” You nod, “but if I don’t get it out of my system I’ll just be thinking about it all night, you know how it is,” 

Mingi nods, “Still, take it easy later,” 

“I will,” You promise, and you start to turn towards the door when the words just bubble up out of your throat, “you’re both still free Saturday, right?” 

“Yeah,” Mingi answers for them both, “are you?” 

“Definitely,” You nod, “I just wanted to make sure, I’m looking forward to it,” 

“We could do tomorrow instead,” Yunho offers, “after practice?” 

“As long as you don’t have other plans,” Mingi cuts in, “for a Friday night,” 

“Tomorrow works,” You jump at the chance, “I’d actually love that, I just didn’t want to crowd you when you’re adjusting to the timezone again,” 

“It’s fine,” Mingi brushes that thought off, “I’d rather see you,” 

“Yeah,” Yunho nods, “it’ll be good to catch up,” 

You smile, “I want to hear all about the trip,” 

“The trip,” Mingi says, just repeating your words like he’s weighing them out on his own tongue. 

Something about his voice sends a sharp zing up the back of your spine. 

Your body feels a little soft, relaxing bit by bit. 

Yunho’s eyes flick over you, “Are you sure you need to stay late?” 

Something your primal little brain cannot handle right now is the thought of your alphas being protective, not when you’re standing in this room encased by their scents that feel a little too right. Your stomach tightens and you pray that you’re not blushing pink at the flickering thought in your mind of them taking you home. 

You need to get out of this room before they realize it. 

“I’m good,” You tell him, stepping backwards towards the door, “but thank you, and dinner tomorrow is perfect,” 

Mingi says something, you think he’s agreeing, but you’re giving another excuse over your shoulder about how you need to get back to it so you can make it out of this room. 

Your heart is practically beating out of your chest as you leave the office and make it down the hall, heading for the studio room you’ve booked for the afternoon. You nearly run into Dahan and Minseok as you cut around the corner, but you apologize quickly and barely give them a second glance as you hide yourself away in one of the dance studios alone. 

With the door firmly shut you lean back against the closed door and take a deep breath. These feelings are going to work you into a frenzy if you don’t get them under control. Scent sympathy is rare, an almost perfect match between an alpha and omega that makes every part of a relationship heightened, especially once that initial sympathetic bond is fulfilled with a claim. While they were gone you came to that conclusion slowly, the steady ache in your chest so clearly informed by the lack of them, but now that they’re back and here the realization of it collides into you full-force. 

You love them, that’s true. But what’s more is how much you need them, and how much you hope they need you. You can’t let them realize it before you have the chance to say everything you need to say, and if you had stayed in that room a few minutes more they might have felt themselves. With the dinner moved to Friday you just have one more night to get through. One more night, and one more day of work. And then the chips will fall where they may. 

With a deep breath you let the hammering of your heart slow and then you focus back on the work ahead. The more you pour yourself into work the faster these 24 hours will go, so you put your head down and get to it. 

You work for a long time, probably too long, until your muscles are positively aching and any thoughts of Yunho and Mingi are drowned out by lyrics to the chorus of this song that just keeps looping in your mind as you try different patterns of footwork. Here in this bubble you don’t know who’s still at work, who’s left for the day, what time it is, or if the sun has set yet. You just know your own body and every which way that it moves to this one singular song. 

Your hair is hot around your face, sweat clinging to your brow as you finish out the latter half of the choreography that you’re confident with. It’s fast, and includes so much up and down floor work you’re pretty sure you’d be passing out if you weren’t hydrating properly. Focused on your reflection in the mirror you gather your hair up and away and into a knot and then move to find your towel and water bottle. 

The door to the studio opens behind you, and you glance back without really seeing who’s popping in, “Hey,” 

For a split second it occurs to you that it might be Yunho or Mingi and your stomach flips as you start to turn. 

“Hey, y/n,” Minseok’s voice is a bit of a surprise. 

“Oh, hey,” 

He looks like he’s just stopping by to grab something from the far desk in the corner. You’re honestly surprised that he’s still here, he had looked on his way out earlier when you bumped into him in the hall.  

“Are you heading out for the night?” You take a drink of water and catch your breath, leaning against the mirrored wall behind you. 

“Soon,” He nods, running a hand through his dark hair and snagging a sweatshirt hanging over the back of the office chair. 

“Well,” You smile, “have a good night,” 

“You too,” He says as he walks past you, but then his steps slow and you hear him sigh before he turns on his heel, “listen, can I ask you something?” 

“Sure,” 

“I hope you don’t think this is weird,” He takes a few more steps back towards you, “but I’ve actually been meaning to ask you something for a while now,” 

“Oh,” Your eyebrows raise, and suddenly you can see everything in his expression. You know this look. You know the way men get when they finally rip off the bandage and change the equilibrium of a room, the moment they decide they can’t see you as just a friend. What absolutely terrible timing he has.

“I was thinking,” He says, a little pause before the rest and you hope you’re keeping your face nice and neutral, “do you think I could take you out some time?” 

“Out?” The word leaves you. 

He smiles, “Yeah, out, like a date.” 

“I appreciate that,” You shake your head a little, trying to smile and keep things light, “but I don’t think so,” 

His lip quirks and his nose scrunches and you suppose that if you were interested you might find this part of him charming, but you’re not, so it isn’t. “Are you seeing someone?” He asks. 

“No,” You tell him honestly, “not right now.”

“So, I can’t get you to give me one chance?” He takes a step forwards, gesturing between you both and keeping his gaze hopeful. 

“I really don’t think that’s a good idea,” You shake your head, “we work together.” 

“Oh, it’s fine,” He assures you, brushing past the boundary you tried to set with casual indifference, “don’t worry about that.” 

“Still,” You shake your head, “but thank you for asking.” 

You’re not at all thankful for him asking, but he’s nice enough, and it feels like the polite way to keep the status quo. 

“That’s a shame,” He admits, his smile dropping almost entirely, “are you sure I can’t convince you to give me just one chance? I really do like you, y/n,” 

“I’m sure,” That should be firm enough. 

“I thought we were getting along well,” He cuts off the end of your words, “becoming friends.” 

“I thought so too,” You straighten up off the wall behind you, tossing your towel over your shoulder and setting up to walk right out of the studio room if that’s what it would take to end this interaction, “I thought we were friends,” 

You can’t help but emphasize the word friends, and you watch the moment his expression drops more, annoyance flicking through his jaw. 

“I didn’t think you had such a problem seeing people you worked with,” He says pointedly. 

“Excuse me?” 

“It’s just that,” He shrugs, nodding towards you, “I didn’t think it bothered you. Considering.”

“Listen,” You lock eyes with him, “let it go. I’m trying to be nice about this, but I can be clearer. I am not interested in going out with you.” 

“You don’t have to be rude,” 

“Goodnight, Minseok,” You’re not staying for this. 

“I’m a good guy,” He says as you start towards the door, “don’t, come on just stay a second,” 

You keep walking. 

“y/n,” He says, his voice startlingly close behind you, “stay.” 

It’s like your legs stop working, an echoing strike of nerves down your spine and you stumble slightly as his hand closes around your wrist. 

“Let go of me.” You start to turn towards him, pulling your arm back as you do, but he speaks again. 

“Stop.” His voice is so low suddenly, situated smack in the center of his chest, a tenor you’ve never heard from him before. Your legs stop working all together, suddenly feeling like lead.

“Take your hands off me.” You blink hard, your head feeling a little full suddenly. 

“I just don’t understand,” He bites, “we’ve been flirting for weeks.” 

You can’t find the words to tell him that you being nice isn't flirting, but you’re stunned into silence. You can barely even think of a time when you had a sustained conversation with him where someone else wasn’t present. How could interactions that felt so routine to you feel so significant for him? 

“And you’re just… not interested?” He scoffs, “You’re what, twenty-six? Twenty-seven? You’re going to start running out of good offers.” 

So many things about Seo Minseok fall into place with just those words. The way that just a few weeks ago he barely looked at you, barely spoke to you. Always spending his attention on the alphas in the room around you, but never you. How when that tide shifted you thought, maybe naively, that he was just shy. But he’s not shy, not in the least. He’s just another alpha in a long line of alphas who look down their noses at omegas until there’s something they want from them. 

“That’s really none of your concern,” You shake your head, “now get the fuck off me.” 

“Be quiet.” His jaw sets hard. 

So does yours. 

A thousand thoughts run through your brain like a wildfire eating up a hillside of dry bark but nothing can make it past your lips. The tone of his voice has you rooted to the spot, his instructions not suggestions but strict commands. It’s been a long time since you’ve heard an alpha use tone, but it’s certainly the first time it’s been directed at you. You’ve heard stories, the way the primal omega brain surfaces even when you don’t want it to. You thought it was a bit of an overstatement, but now on the receiving end you can’t control your response to him and fear floods you. 

“You talk a lot for an unmated omega,” He looks disappointed. 

Something shrinks inside you. 

His fingers tighten, his body suddenly closer, “But we can fix that.” 

In a breath his hands push you backwards, your back suddenly cold against the mirrored wall of the practice room. Later, much later, you’ll discover that the reason your memory of this moment is patchy is a combination of your omega’s response to alpha tone and full dissociation. You’ll remember little pieces, quick sensations here and there. The same song still looping through the stereo, the sound of his deep inhale with his face pressed against your throat, the sharp pin pricks of his teeth as he seeks out the soft juncture of your neck and shoulder. The way your mind in one heaving breath both screams in rebellion and folds open in acceptance when he successfully locates your gland. 

You suddenly can’t hear right, can’t think right. All you know is his teeth. The hot feeling of breath. He smells like burnt, bitter oranges. He’s talking again, saying something that your conscious mind can’t register, but your omega does, and you stretch your neck long to give him the access he needs. 

And then you’re under. 

You’re dropping before you consciously register your brain entering a new, hazy middle space. It feels like being at the bottom of a deep pool, the sudden, immersive quiet. You understand that someone is talking to you, or around you, but all you can hear is the echoing tenor of an alpha, the words unclear, all cocooned in the water around you. 

There’s a bang somewhere but it feels far away, and you feel pin pricks against your throat. 

Minseok’s overwhelming acrid scent and heavy pressure against you is gone, the sudden loss of his weight leaving you off balance. You think you’re falling, or maybe you’ve already fallen. The world feels tilted, something hard and cold under your back. You smell something sharp and tangy, and there’s something loud in the room but you can’t understand it. Everything is white, bright and intrusive. 

Mingi’s face swims into your vision, and you feel his hands on your cheeks. It takes you a minute to understand anything, but he looks upset, stricken and his cheeks are tinged pink with panicked anger. You want to reach up, soothe his brow and see what’s wrong, but you can’t lift your hand. Don’t move an inch. 

“Jesus,” Mingi glances to his side, “he put her in subspace,” 

Someone responds, but it’s muffled to your ears. 

Mingi’s face darkens entirely, his hands leave you, “I’ll fucking kill him,” 

He’s gone. There’s a scuffle to your side, but you can’t turn your head, you want to, you just can’t. Tears bubble in your eyes, emotion pulsing through you and your breath is tight and thready in your throat. A sharp, whining sob bubbles from your lips. 

Warm rain swims through you, and Yunho’s there, sliding right into the spot Mingi left. His eyes dart over your face and then he looks to his side, his voice firm, “Calm down or get out of here, do you understand me? You’re scaring her,” 

There’s a long beat, noises to your side again but you can’t understand it. Your stomach flips nervously, the place you’re stuck in your head throbbing a sharp spike through your brain. 

Yunho’s warm, brown eyes settle back on yours, his face calm and easy, “Can you hear me, y/n?” 

You can, but you can’t make your mouth work. Don’t move an inch. 

“Can you hear me? y/n?” He asks again, his thumb brushing your cheek, “You’re safe, he’s not going to touch you again,” 

The hard feeling of Minseok’s hands on your hips pushing you into the practice room mirror snaps inside you and you release a soft sound. 

“You can hear me,” Yunho nods, “come on, wake up,” 

“Yunho,” Mingi’s voice is close again, hard and steady, “that’s not going to work,” 

“Why?” Yunho looks up to his friend, “she can hear me, she’s okay,” 

“She’s in subspace,” Mingi pushes his friend to the side, coming into your eye line, “she’s dropped so far under it’s going to take more than that,” 

“W-what do we do?” Yunho’s voice is shaky. 

“Let me try something,” Mingi murmurs, and then his eyes lock squarely on yours. 

Yunho slips his hand into yours, holding you tightly, but you can’t squeeze him back. 

“Omega,” Mingi’s voice is firm, and it’s the clearest thing you’ve heard since sinking under the water, “Come up now.” 

Don’t move an inch.

“You need to come up now,” His fingers tighten on your cheek, “listen to me.” 

Don’t move an inch. 

“Why isn’t this working?” Yunho asks, squeezing your fingers. 

“I’m not sure,” Mingi’s voice is low, and then he shifts closer to your face, “y/n. Omega. Listen to me now,” 

All you can do is manage to make a quiet, tight noise, and even to your muddled brain you can hear the tenor of distress. 

“Come up now,” Mingi repeats, “right now. Listen to me, omega.” 

You’re being torn in two, your primal brain fighting you every step of the way. 

He swallows hard, his voice dropping low in his chest, “Don’t disobey your alpha,”

Suddenly nothing but his voice exists. 

Mingi’s expression is cold, tight and ruthless, his rich tone cuts straight to your core, “When you’re given a directive, you follow it. Now,” He locks his hands on either side of your face and his next words are a pointed and perfectly clear command, “Come. Up.”  

The room is so much louder than you thought a moment ago. There’s shouting outside and you vaguely register San’s voice amongst the mix. The music from practice is still on low. Yunho’s leg is bouncing nervously, the athletic fabric making a rhythmic swish with every bob of his knee. You can hear your blood rushing in your ears. 

“I’m sorry,” You choke out, the first feeling that floods back into your body is intense shame.

“Oh my god,” Mingi’s expression crumbles and he pulls your limp body into his arms “you’re here? You’re with us?”

“M-Mingi,” Your vision clouds with tears again and every feeling that tried to course through your body while you were in subdrop crashes into you sideways.

“Shh,” He rocks you in his arms, “we’ve got you, we’re right here, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,”

A dull throb radiates through your skull and Yunho takes a sharp inhale, “She’s bleeding,”

“What?” Mingi pulls back, his hand searching your body.

“Here,” Yunho brushes the back of your hair, his fingers coming away with a small line of blood, “it’s not too bad,”

“What happened?” You reach for the cut at the back of your head, nervous tears coming up as you try to understand.

“You don’t remember?” Yunho asks.

“I’m,” You swallow hard, “it was practice? Or I was practicing? I had the room booked.”

“Yeah,” Yunho nods and squeezes your hand, “what else?”

The date. The hard set of Minseok’s jaw when you said no. His hands on your hips, his lips on your neck, the soft drag of his teeth and the flat of his tongue over your gland. Your shirt tearing when he hauled you up against the mirrors. Hands everywhere. Hands nowhere. The white ceiling. His voice, harsh and direct in your ears, the alpha tone unmistakable. Submit. Heel. Don’t move an inch. 

Your mouth is suddenly hot and watery, and your hands are shaking, “I’m… I’m going to be sick,”

“Shit,” Yunho moves fast, sliding across the floor to grab the wastebasket that sits under the desk, pushing it into your hands. 

You wretch instantly, shaking and heaving, losing the contents of your stomach into the plastic bin. 

“Okay,” Mingi soothes, gathering up your hair into one hand and holding it away from your face, “you’re okay,”

“He touched me,” Your hands won’t stop shaking, his voice flooding back, and you heave again, “the things he said,”

“Shh,” Yunho shifts closer, rubbing a hand up and down your back, “you’re safe. None of that is true,” 

“He talked to me like a dog,” You sob, “and I couldn’t move, he told me not to move and I just let him,”

“No.” Mingi’s voice is harsh and you twitch under his hands, “He used alpha tone on you, he wanted you to stop fighting and he said it in tone until you couldn’t hear anything else. You didn’t let him do anything,” 

“I’ve never,” You wretch again, a dry heave with nothing to give and it makes your eyes watery. 

“We’re right here,” Yunho murmurs, “you’re safe.”

When you’re sure your stomach will hold, you push the wastebasket away and drop back to the floor, your head throbbing, “I’ve never been in subspace,”

“You’re not there now,” Mingi soothes.

“I don’t remember,” You manage, looking down at your mussed clothes, “it’s so muddled I can’t remember,”

“What can’t you remember?” Yunho asks softly.

You’re pretty sure you’d register it if his attempt at claiming had been successful, if the word attempt should even be in consideration at all, but the end is so fuzzy you just have to know. “Did he… did we?”

“No.” Yunho’s firm, sliding in front of you so he can make you look into his eyes, “absolutely not,”

Your mouth tastes terrible, but it’s the overwhelming bitter smell of him on you that doubles it and makes you want to throw up again even though your stomach is empty. 

“All I can smell is him,” You scrub your hands under your eyes to wipe away tears, “I can’t even breathe,”

“Take her,” Mingi says, “I’m getting water,”

Yunho pulls you into his arms, sitting back against the mirrored wall for some support and cradling you to his chest, “Come here, is this okay?” 

“Make it go away,” You hold onto his shirt and sigh into his neck, “please, Yunho, please,”

“Just breathe,” He soothes you, “I have you,” 

He smooths his thumbs over the glands in your wrists, easing the initial panic inside you, and then gently draws your head back with his hand, “It’s only me,” He murmurs, “you know I’d never hurt you,” 

Yunho licks a long stripe up your neck, and instantly your body starts to release, tense muscles unlocking and your fingers falling slack. His scent washes over you, enveloping you tenderly. 

“Y-Yunho,” you shudder as he licks another long stripe, moving to suck softly on the fleshy part of your neck that narrowly avoided teeth marks.

“Yes?” He kisses your neck softly, and licks again. 

“Thank you for coming for me,” You exhale slowly.

He stills, sinking closer and resting his closed lips on your shoulder. When he breathes in you hear the catch of emotion, “I thought we were too late,”

“I’m okay,” You murmur, and it’s starting to feel true now that he’s washing away Minseok’s scent.

“God,” He sighs into your skin, “when I heard you scream… I’ve never heard anything that terrifying in my life, I’ve never run so fast,”

“Did I scream?” You don’t remember it.

“Bloody murder,” He nods, pulling back to look at your eyes.

“Yunho,” Your eyes flick up towards the open door of the practice studio, “where is he?”

His hands tighten on you, “Probably nursing his broken ribs. The guys have him,”

Your eyes widen, and the realization that he’s still under the same roof has you trembling in his arms, “He’s still here,”

“Not for long,” He murmurs, “we called the police,”

“But,” Your mind is spinning and you feel the weight of him on your chest once more, “what if he comes back?”

“y/n,” Yunho draws your eyes away from the door, “San and Seonghwa have him, and he’s in rough shape. He’s probably focused on trying to breathe, not thinking about you anymore. And even if none of that were true and he did come back,” he says, “I’d put him on the floor faster than you could blink. Mingi and I both would.”

Your muscles start to relax again, “Okay,”

“You are completely safe,”

Mingi reappears a few moments later, bottles of water in hand, and he smiles warmly, “Hey, you,”

“Hey,”

“Feeling a little better?” He asks, settling on the hard practice room floor and passing you an open bottle.

“I don’t know,” You murmur honestly, shifting in Yunho’s arms so that you’re resting on his lap with your back against his chest. You take a long drink of water and sigh. 

“Listen,” Mingi smooths a hand across your thigh, “the police are going to want to talk to you. They’ll be here within the hour and then we’ll go to the hospital.”

“Why?” You tense.

“Your head,” He nods.

“It’s stopped bleeding,” Yunho assures you, “but he’s right, you could have a concussion.”

“I don’t have a concussion,”

“I didn’t realize you had a medical degree,” Mingi says, a little edge to his voice.

Hot tears well in your eyes at his tone, and you shrink back into Yunho’s arms. You know rationally he didn’t mean to scare you, he’s just worried about you, but after the day you’ve had you can’t help but shrink back in fear.  

“Hey,” Yunho presses his lips to your neck, “it’s alright, Mingi didn’t mean it like that”

Mingi’s eyes blow wide, “Fuck, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean anything,”

“I know,” You tip your head to the side to offer more of your throat to Yunho’s soothing touches, “I’m just not myself,”

“It’s okay,” Yunho says again, returning to your neck and peppering kisses across your gland, and something about this should feel intimate and awkward when you haven’t talked to them yet, but all you can feel is safe.

“Really,” Mingi reaches for you, but doesn’t touch you, “I just want you to let us help, and I’m so angry with Minseok I could kill him, but I didn’t mean to put that on you,”

“Mingi,” You take his outstretched hand, “I’m okay, you just startled me, and you’re right anyways. I’ll come to the hospital,”

He sighs in relief.

“After,” Yunho murmurs, “would you - I mean, will you please come home with us tonight?”

It’s strange how much you feel like it is home, despite only spending your heat there, months ago, so long ago now you shouldn’t still feel this preternatural pull. 

“I don’t know,” You say, even though your body is begging you to agree, to stay with them and only them. 

“I know it’s been different between us,” He murmurs, arms tightening around you, “but you know how I feel. I just don’t want you to be alone tonight, someone should be with you,” 

“Someone you feel safe with,” Mingi adds, “if that’s us,” 

“It is,” You lock your hand down on Mingi’s, “I’m sorry, this is… of course you’re safe, of course you are. I’m just,” 

“Let’s talk about this later,” Mingi smiles, shooting a look at Yunho you can’t quite make sense of, but brushing your fears to the side all the same, “for now, let’s just get you taken care of.” 

You shudder out a breath, letting the warmth and safety of their bodies sink into you. You turn into Yunho, resting your cheek on his chest and matching your breath in time to his. Your thoughts spin, bubbling over as threads of the incident come back to your mind and you press your eyes closed before the question slips out, “Why did he do it?” 

Yunho wraps his arms around you a little tighter, dropping his lips to your hair, “I don’t know,” 

Mingi clears his throat, “He’s about to hit his rut,” he says, “that’s what his excuse was. He said he’s… he kept saying how sorry he was, but,” 

Your eyes snap open, “Sorry? He’s sorry?” 

“Sorry someone interrupted him, maybe,” Mingi’s voice is hard, his eyes firm and unrelenting, “a rut doesn’t make you do that. Not like that.” 

Yunho shakes his head in agreement, “Definitely not,” 

You know that, of course you know it, but after seeing Minseok’s black eyes you’re not so sure. You had never felt completely comfortable with him, but in the past you would have chalked that up to personality differences, and in the past few weeks that had all started to change. He was the kind of guy you wouldn’t date, but you wouldn’t worry about bothering you. 

You sigh softly, “He didn’t seem like himself,” 

“Mm,” Mingi hums, non-committal. 

“A rut doesn’t make it impossible to hear the word no,” Yunho says firmly, “you don’t become some mindless animal. What he tried to do… that’s… a rut’s an easy excuse.” 

You tense up in his arms, a brief flicker of what could have been. His teeth in your neck, your mind spinning into submission. 

“Yunho,” Mingi shakes his head at his best friend, glancing down at you to indicate that it’s not something you can hear right now. 

“I’m sorry,” Yunho soothes, holding you closer if it’s at all possible. 

Your chest tightens, “Can I… I need to get up,” 

His arms relax immediately, hands shifting under your elbows to help support you while Mingi jumps up and offers you his hands to pull you up. Back on your own two feet you waver a minute, but you shake off the dizzy spell and try to get your bearings again. They're waiting on a razor’s edge, hands out and ready to intervene, but you’ve made it clear that for the moment you don’t want to be touched. 

A shout from the hall leaves you jumping, but you register Wooyoung’s voice a moment later, “Where is she?” 

“The studio,” San’s voice replies, “slow down,” 

“Is he in the back office? Give me a fucking minute alone with him,” Wooyoung’s voice is murderous and you smile at how ready your best friend sounds to do battle on your behalf, “I’ll show him what an omega can fucking do,” 

“Youngie,” San’s voice is even and warm, keeping things soft, “you need to calm down,” 

“Calm down,” He scoffs, his voice getting closer as he travels down the hall and you know he’s almost at the door. 

“I hardly think y/n needs,” San starts to say, but then they round the corner. 

Wooyoung’s eyes are wild, searching and terrified, and something inside you shatters. San’s words die on his lips when he sees you, and in a startling moment of clarity you rush forwards and into Wooyoung’s arms. 

“Shh, shh,” He wraps you up tight, one hand at the back of your head as he rocks you back and forth, “you’re safe, you’re in one piece,” 

“Woo,” Tears come fast, and you bury your face in his chest. 

“Stupid fucking alphas,” He curses into your shoulder and you can hear his breath hitched and clouded with tears of his own, “acting like they can take whatever they want,” 

You’re sure the rest of the room is bristling at that comment but you couldn’t care less. 

“You want me to break the rest of his ribs?” He kisses your head, “I’ll make it look like a fucking accident, I swear to God,” 

“Woo,” You laugh into his chest, vision blurry with unshed tears, “stop, that’s insane,” 

“I am nothing if not a little insane,” Wooyoung squeezes you, “and you and me? We protect each other, right?” 

“Always,” You grip the back of his shirt like a lifeline. 

The bond between omegas can’t be understood by a single other person in the room, maybe even in the building. You cling to each other in the middle of the studio floor, encased in this moment of shared grief. Of what you are and what that means. He shifts you in his arms so he can look at your face, cupping your tear stained cheeks. 

The sight of his own tears makes yours come faster, “What did I do?” 

His expression hardens and he shakes his head, sucking in a harsh breath, “Nothing, not a single fucking thing. Do you hear me?” 

“Woo,” You want him to let you go. You want him to tug you close again. 

He shakes your shoulders hard, and in your periphery you see Mingi take a half step forward as Wooyoung pushes back on your words, “You didn’t do anything. You’re existing, and he tried to take advantage of that. This isn’t your fault, there’s nothing you could have or should have done.” 

You open your mouth to say something but he plows forward. 

“Alphas take, alright?” He shakes you again, more gently this time, “We’re lucky. You and me, we found good ones, but alphas are programmed to take, and we’re programmed to give. He used it against you. Nothing else.”

Your breath hitches, and you launch yourself at him, wrapping your arms around his neck and letting him cradle you again. 

“Shh, shh,” He rubs your back, soothing you again. 

“I hate this,” You manage, your face buried in his shoulder. 

“I know,” He eases you, “I fucking hate it too,” 

You hold each other a little longer until both of your tears start to subside. You stay steady in his grip, his fresh salt and cotton scent lulling you into safety. The buzzing of your brain starts to release, and the fear is still there under your skin but at least for now it’s low and letting you breathe. 

Nuzzling into his shoulder you sigh, “What are you doing back here anyways?” 

“San called,” He kisses your hair, “I broke several laws getting here,” 

You laugh against his collarbone where his oversized t-shirt is pulled down, no doubt from the way your hands grip whatever part of him you can. 

He rubs a warm hand up and down your back and when he speaks again it’s not to you, this time he addresses the alphas in the room. He clears his throat softly, head lifting up and away from yours, “So, who busted his nose?” 

“Uh,” Yunho makes a small sound behind you, “that would be me,” 

“Good,” Wooyoung says, “when she stops crying I’m giving you a handshake,” 

You smile against his damp skin and shake your head, “I’m not crying, I’m fine,” 

“Sure,” Wooyoung murmurs, but he doesn’t let you go, just strokes your back more until you settle further into him. 

“The police will be here soon,” San murmurs, his voice staying relaxed and steady to make sure everything stays level in the room. 

“Right,” Wooyoung sighs, “y/n, can I let you go? I don't have to if you’re not ready,” 

You nod immediately though, unwinding your arms from him and taking a ginger step back. He gives you a soft smile, and you scrub the last of the tears from your face with the sleeves of your sweatshirt. He gives you a minute to stand steady and then turns to Yunho and Mingi who both look frozen and unsure of what to do or what to say. 

“You both got him off her?” He says, matter of fact. 

“Yeah,” Mingi’s voice is tight, like he had been choking back tears of his own, and Yunho simply nods. 

“Thank you,” Wooyoung tugs Mingi into a hug and squeezes him tight before shifting to Yunho to hug him too, “seriously,” 

Once they break apart, you’re left all in a haphazard circle, and you can feel all the eyes on you. It makes you so tired, dizzy, ready to be done and just crawl under a blanket for the rest of the week. In the back of your throat you still taste bitter orange. 

“Um,” Your voice comes out a little more scratchy than you want, and you clear your throat, letting everything fade. 

“What is it?” Yunho asks gently. 

You don’t know how to ask this, how to beg them to keep holding you together so you can just get through existing in this room. You sigh, the deep exhale making you dizzy again, and step towards him, ��C-can I,” 

He opens his arms immediately, letting you close the space so he doesn’t assume your needs, but as you collide with him again he responds perfectly, scooping you up into his arms and letting you wrap your legs around his waist. He supports you with ease, an arm under your thighs and another situated high on your back. 

“Better?” He murmurs, smiling a little as you bury your head in his neck. 

You nod into his neck, and then you allow yourself one tiny moment of weakness, listening to your body and what it needs for once over your anxiety. You mumble it into his neck, but he hears you when you say, “Yunho?” 

“Yeah, baby?” His voice is so soft, quiet like he’s afraid of what you might say. 

You don’t miss the way Wooyoung’s eyebrows go high at the endearment, but you ignore him and focus instead on the man holding you up, together, in one solid piece. You lift your head so he hears you clearly, “Will you please take me home?” 

He goes still and turns his head just a little, “Your apartment or,” 

“Take me home with you,” You repeat, “I want to go home,” 

This will surely just make everything more muddled and foggy between the three of you tomorrow in the cold light of day, but you don’t care. Right now you just want to be home, in whatever form that means. 

He exhales low and shaky, “Alright,” he murmurs, kissing your throat softly to help calm your trembling, “I’ve got you, let’s go home,” 

A warm wide palm rests on the center of your back, and Mingi leans in close to catch your eyes, “y/n, can you look at me a second?” 

You pull your head up from the crook of Yunho’s neck where you’ve just been taking deep steady inhales of wet earth and meet his eyes. 

“Hey,” He smiles. 

Your eyes dart between him and Wooyoung, who seems suddenly ancy. “What?” You straighten up a little more in Yunho’s arms. 

“You can go wherever you want,” He starts off, “but do you want us to take you home, or would you feel more comfortable with Wooyoung? Or… Seonghwa, if… if that would be better for how you’re feeling,” 

Yunho tenses a little, his fingers tightening where he holds you, and you can feel him physically holding himself back from saying a single word, from begging you to come with them. 

You’ve made up your mind though, and within a second you’re shaking your head, “No, I want you,” 

Yunho relaxes, his lips returning to your throat and you sigh. 

“Then you have us,” Mingi assures you. 

The sound of the elevators in the hall stop you all cold though, and San holds up his hands, “I’ll go see, it’s probably the police,” 

The idea of talking to them suddenly makes you sick, and you’re sure it shows all over your face. 

“It’s going to be fine,” Wooyoung jumps back in, “don’t worry, we’ll be there the whole time.” 

You need this to be done. You grip down on Yunho’s shoulders, “I want to go home,” 

“I know,” Mingi nods. 

“Y-Yunho,” You’re scrambling a little in his arms, sudden panic swirling in your gut, and you twist to find his eyes, “please, get me out of here, please take me home,” 

You feel it the minute he chooses you over anything else, “Okay, alright,” 

“You need to talk to the cops,” Wooyoung shakes his head, trying to reason with you. 

You’re trembling in Yunho’s arms and he shakes his head, “She needs to go,” 

Mingi senses your heightened emotions too and you feel it when he moves closer, both of them shifting to protect you, “She can do this later,” 

“I don’t know that that’s such a good idea,” Wooyoung insists. 

“I couldn’t give a fuck,” Yunho grips you tighter, “we’re taking our girl home,” 

“Your-” Wooyoung scoffs when he hears the words, “fucking alphas,” 

“Who she wants to take her home,” Mingi points out, a distinct edge to his voice. 

“Stop arguing,” You beg them, hanging onto Yunho’s shoulders, “please, please,” 

“Fuck,” Yunho relaxes, stroking your back, “I’m sorry, of course we won’t, I’m sorry,” 

Mingi brushes his hand over the back of your head and Wooyoung gives you an apologetic face, his defensiveness over you is understandable, but he also knows how you feel about these men and you watch him choose to hold his tongue. 

A knock on the door brings you all back to the present, San handling the situation with more grace than any of you combined, “The police said that they can speak with you at the hospital and make it brief.” 

You exhale heavily and nod against Yunho, “Okay, fine,” 

“Are you sure?” Mingi strokes your cheek. 

“I just want to be done,” 

“Should we stay with you?” Yunho murmurs. 

“Please,” You grip his shoulders. 

“Alright,” He sighs, “Woo, could you… I’m sorry, can you grab her things? Let’s just try to make this quick for her,” 

Wooyoung clears his throat, his eyes never leaving yours, “Yeah, I got it,” 

“Uh,” San interrupts as you all try to gather your things, “Yunho, they want to talk to you first, they’re waiting in the back office,” 

“Oh,” 

“They have some questions,” San explains quietly, “but she she doesn’t need to be there for that,” 

“Right,” Yunho nods and then presses a kiss to your hair, “can I put you down, sweetheart?” 

Your chest warms. 

“No, here,” Mingi cuts in, his hand sweeping over your back and you feel them shift you from Yunho’s arms to his, “come here,” 

He settles you against his chest and you wrap around him just the same, soaking in the warm scent of cocoa and cinnamon. You let your eyes drift shut as you rest on his shoulder, “Hey, Mingi,” 

“Hey,” He says softly. 

“Thank you,” You sigh. 

“Mhm,” He rocks you a little as he takes your bags from Wooyoung and slings them over his shoulder, the combined weight of it and you not fazing him at all, “I told you once I’ll always be here, I meant it,” 

“I believe you,” You murmur into his throat. 

You rest here, Mingi’s thumb rubbing a comforting line over the back of your neck. 

“Time to go,” Wooyoung’s voice pipes back in, “there’s a car ready, Yunho will be there in a a few minutes,” 

“Alright,” Mingi presses a soft kiss to your hair, “here we go,” 

He carries you with ease, and you sink into the steady thump of his heart under your palm that’s keeping you grounded. Over his shoulder you watch Wooyoung walking with you and you see police officers down the hall. The door to the back office swings open and Yunho is leaning against the desk as he speaks with an officer. Seonghwa sits in a chair next to him, his head in his hands, blood coating his knuckles and the sleeves of his shirt. Something pulls in your gut, begging you to go to him, but then you’re outside and all you can feel is Mingi holding you as he ferries you into the car. 

“Do you need anything?” He asks as he settles you into the passenger seat 

“I don’t know,” You tell him honestly, letting your head drop back against the seat and taking a deep breath, eyes slipping closed. 

“Don’t fall asleep,” Wooyoung jumps forward, “keep your eyes open,” 

“I’m fine,” You tell him, but you still do what he asks. 

“Just in case,” Wooyoung presses, “you shouldn’t fuck with head injuries,” 

“He’s right,” Mingi murmurs, crouching next to you just outside the car, “and I’m sure you’re fine, but let’s just be sure, okay?” 

“Okay,” 

  A noise just past the two of them makes you jump. 

“It’s just Sannie,” Wooyoung assures you. 

You nod and Mingi takes your hand in his, lacing your fingers together. 

“Yunho’s almost done,” San announces, but he hurries to the car and leans in to check you, “doing okay?” 

“Yeah,” 

“Can you do something for me?” He cups your cheek to bring your eyes up to his. 

“Mhm,” You nod again. 

“I need you to just focus on us for a minute,” He moves to crouch next to Mingi, and then Wooyoung steps closer too, blocking out some of your peripheral vision. 

“Why?” You fight the urge to turn around. 

Red and blue lights flash in the car mirrors and you reflexively glance up at the rear view mirror, catching sight of an ambulance, and tension fills your stomach. 

San reaches up and catches your face again, “Hey, look at me,” 

You pull your eyes away, “Are they here for him?” 

“Yes,” San nods.

“Is he badly hurt?” Your mouth feels dry. 

There’s a pause and then Wooyoung sighs, “Don’t lie to her,” 

Mingi clears his throat softly, “He’s pretty busted up,” 

“Good,” You breathe. 

San smiles, taking your other hand in his and smoothing his thumb over your knuckles. The sound of the doors catches your attention again, and you resist the urge to turn around once again. San shakes his head a little, “Just keep looking at us,” 

“He really picked the wrong person to fuck with,” Wooyoung says, his hand resting warmly on your shoulder. 

An image of Seonghwa and his bloody knuckles flashes through your mind and your breath quickens, “Is Hwa okay?” 

Mingi’s brows draw together. 

“He’s fine,” San assures you immediately. 

“I saw blood,” You can’t articulate it exactly, the image is just static in your mind. 

“It’s not his blood,” San promises, “we’re all fine, Seonghwa is fine,” 

The sound of the ambulance doors swinging shut makes you jump. 

“Shh,” Mingi squeezes your hand, “you’re safe, you’re with me,” 

Everything in your body feels tense and stretched thin, but Mingi’s hand is solid in yours and you grip down on it, letting it tether you. 

You listen as the ambulance pulls away, your muscles unclenching one by one as the sound of the vehicle fades. 

“Woo,” You manage, “can you check on Hwa for me? And text me?” 

“Yeah,” He assures you, “I got you,” 

“Take a deep breath,” Mingi instructs you, “please, for me,” 

You take a long inhale and meet his eyes and he nods as you let the breath out low and slow through your nose. 

“Again, please,” He nods. 

You breathe again, the same steady pace, “I’m tired,” 

“It’s the adrenaline wearing off,” Mingi tells you, “but as soon as a doctor says you can sleep, you can rest,” 

“Okay,” You nod. 

San’s hand disconnects from yours and he starts to stand, “Yunho’s done,” 

You twist in your seat to see him, Wooyoung stepping out of the way, and you can see Yunho jogging towards the car, “Everything okay?” 

“Mhm,” Mingi keeps himself calm for you. 

“That took forever,” He says, “I’m sorry,” 

“It didn’t,” You shake your head, “don’t be sorry,” 

“You should go,” Wooyoung interrupts, “get her looked at,” 

You find your best friend’s eyes, “You’ll text me?” 

“Of course I will,” He nods, “but right now just focus on yourself. We’re all okay,” 

You nod, and your eyes feel heavy again already. You know they’ll be trying to keep you awake in the car at this rate. 

“Let’s go,” Mingi nods, “can I have my hand back for a minute?” He smiles at you. 

“Sorry,” You drop his hand, almost embarrassed at the way you’re clinging to him. 

“Go,” San ushers Yunho towards the driver’s side, “if you need anything, we’re here,” 

Before you know it everyone’s moving and your car door is shut. Yunho slides into the driver’s seat to your left and Mingi moves into the backseat behind you. 

You meet Wooyoung’s eyes through the window and he rests a hand over his chest. He mouths a simple message - I love you, okay?

You nod and the car starts to move, but you know he knows you love him too. 

Mingi shifts forwards in his seat as Yunho starts to drive, and his long arm reaches around to find your hand again. He laces your fingers together once and this time he doesn’t let go. 

________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Later that night, the warm, rich scent of their apartment almost takes you out at the knees when you finally cross the threshold, so overwhelmingly comforting and enveloping that you want nothing more than to bury yourself inside the feeling for days. Mingi nearly runs into your back when you stop short in the entryway and Yunho’s watching you carefully as he hangs up your jackets. 

“What?” Mingi nudges you gently. 

There’s a million things to say. Things left unsaid after your last conversation, that fight you wish you could forget. The letter. All the things you were planning on confessing Saturday. The way you want so badly to erase today and just be with them. Every ounce of their soothing physicality after Minseok brings all your emotions up tenfold. Their tenderness almost chokes you. All the things you want to say are stuck in your throat. You need to get your head on straight. You need sleep. 

“Hey,” Yunho waves a hand in front of your dazed expression, “are you alright?” 

Not really. The hospital was long and awkward, seeing a glimpse of Minseok’s name on a hospital room door even worse, and the police had so many questions that all sounded fairly judgemental. Not to mention the probing questions from the hospital staff about your cycle and if you’re close to pre-heat. As if that matters at all. You settle for something a little less dire though, “I’m fine, sorry, it’s just been a while,” 

Yunho’s ears darken to a deep shade of pink and he nods. 

“You can sleep in my room,” Mingi offers, “like before. We can stay or not stay, it’s up to you.” 

“I’d like to be alone,” You tell them, “if that’s alright,” 

“Of course,” Mingi smooths a hand down your arm, “whatever you want.” 

“Um,” You sigh heavily, “honestly I’m exhausted. I think I might just shower and sleep as long as you don’t mind,” 

Yunho shakes his head, gesturing towards the hall, “Not at all, just… call if you need anything,” 

You start back towards the bathroom, your eyes down and away from them, but Mingi calls out, “You remember where everything is?” 

There’s no way you could forget, and you call back that you’re fine. You got it. You just need to be alone, alone is good, alone feels safe. 

In the shower you scrub your skin raw, spending extra time and attention on your glands even though it makes your skin there puffy and red, pinpricks of blood at the surface of your skin and lilac bruises surrounding every edge. It doesn’t matter how comforting their scents are, nothing is taking away the deep intent of Minseok’s mouth on your neck - and the bitter, burnt citrus smell takes ages to wash away. By the time you finish, you’re about ready to collapse. 

Mingi leaves you clothes again, folded neatly on his bed and ready for you. They’re nowhere to be seen, taking your plea for time alone seriously. He’s laid out a clean pair of sleep pants and a t-shirt, both fresh from the wash. The hoodie you had stolen during your heat lies next to it, and it’s a kind gesture, but suddenly you don’t want it. You want nothing. 

You toss the hoodie to the side and start to climb into the bed, but that smells so heavily of cinnamon spice that you can’t think straight. You had just gotten used to blissfully smelling nothing after your shower, and so you strip the bed entirely, discarding all of the pillows and blankets and sheets into the farthest corner of the room. 

The mattress is bare now, but once you turn the circulating fan off you fix the issue of the cold and his scent washing over you every time you try to close your eyes. You can still sense him, sense them, somewhere in the background, but here on the stripped bed in sterilized clothes with your skin rubbed raw, you can rest. 

You drift into sleep this way, your head clear. 

It doesn’t stay that way for long. 

You’re not sure how long you’re asleep before you wake in abject terror, but it must be at least a couple of hours with the sky outside pitch dark and the apartment completely quiet around you. It’s obvious you’re the only one awake, but your brain can’t quite process it right. All you feel is shaking fear and the echo of hands pressing you into the wall, fingers in your hair yanking your head to the side, teeth grazing against your throat. 

You scramble back, only to find the edge of the bed and you collapse off of it, ending up on the wood floor with your head spinning, Mingi’s bedside table lamp crashing down after you, a harsh flash of light pulsing through the room as the bulb breaks and gives one final dying flicker. 

The pleading whine that’s caught in your throat sounds like a trapped animal to your ears, the pounding of your heart threatening to break your chest, blood rushing through your ears like a train. You can’t grasp reality, everything feels hazy and disconnected. 

The door to your right bangs open, Yunho bleary and confused, but responding to your heightened state of fear within a moment. “Mingi!” He calls over his shoulder, “Mingi, get up right now,” 

There’s a faraway faint noise from the other room. 

Yunho skids to your side, careful not to touch you as he tries to meet your eyes in the dark, “Sweetheart, it’s just a nightmare.” 

Part of you knows that you’re awake, safe and home, and not trapped in subspace with a threatening hand in your hair, but you can’t quite grip back to reality. You stutter out a reply, “I-I can’t breathe,” 

“Mingi,” Yunho calls back over his shoulder again, “right now!”

“Please,” you whimper, part of your brain still lodged in the nightmare, “I can’t breathe,” Your hands cling onto the edge of the rug.

Mingi stumbles into the room now, half asleep but forced into consciousness and he’s shaking himself, catching up quickly, “What’s going on?” 

You hear him, but your body is stuck remembering and you feel like there’s a weight on your chest, pressing you down harder, “I can’t breathe, I can’t breathe,” you stutter. 

“Sweetheart,” Yunho comes closer now, his body curling around you carefully with his face directly at your side, “it’s a nightmare, you’re safe.” His arms loop around you gently, but stay open in case you need to move.

“I can’t,” you shake your head, images swimming before you. 

“You’re not there,” he tells you, “we’re home, you’re with us, me and Mingi,” 

You wheeze, trying to regulate your breath. 

“Get a light,” Yunho pleads suddenly to the dark room, and you can hear scrambling, “she can’t see where she is, get a light on.” 

Mingi trips over the discarded lamp on the floor, and fumbles back to the lightswitch on the wall near the door, searching for it with his hands but reluctant to tear his eyes away from you. Suddenly the room floods with the overhead light, a stark fluorescent glow, and the black spots across your vision start to clear.

“I have you, I have you,” Yunho repeats, holding you to him. 

Your hand searches blindly for Mingi on the other side of you and he collapses next to you both, taking your hand and moving in to cradle you from the opposite side, “Baby,” he murmurs, “look around, look where you are,” 

Yunho’s hand on your thigh grounds you, and then Mingi softly touches your jaw to draw your gaze to him, “Look at me,” 

Your eyes flick up. He looks tired, exhausted even, his hair a wayward haystack. You blink hard, “What happened to you?” 

“To me?” Mingi’s brow furrows and he glances up past you to Yunho. 

“You need sleep,” You manage. 

Mingi laughs sharply and cups your cheeks, “I’ll sleep later. Can you tell me where you are?” 

“Your place,” You manage, and you feel the nightmare receding back into your mind inch by precious inch, your breath steadying out. 

“Yeah,” He sighs, “Yeah, that’s right,” 

“I’m home with you,” You repeat, your fingers sinking into the plush rug beneath you. 

Yunho swallows hard, fixated on the way you’ve called their apartment home, not their home, for the third time tonight. You watch the flicker of recognition in his eyes, but he lets it pass and so do you. 

Tears well up in your eyes again and you sigh, “I’m sorry about your lamp,” 

“What?” Mingi’s brow furrows, “Who cares about that?” 

“Still,” You manage, “I’m such a mess right now,” 

“If you weren’t a mess I’d be more worried,” Yunho takes your hand in his, squeezing your fingers, “and you can take all the time you need to be a mess, we’re here.” 

You slump forwards onto his shoulder, “I’m… so tired,” 

“Let’s get you back to bed,” Yunho soothes, his voice soft. 

You nod, letting them both ease you up to your feet, but when they turn to the bed Mingi makes a soft, confused noise, “Where?” 

“Oh,” You gesture towards the corner where all his bedding is wrapped up in a ball, “I’m sorry I was just… it was too much,” 

Mingi’s jaw tightens, the muscles in his neck jumping as he swallows hard, and you know he’s holding down so much anger, that someone could have scared you enough that any alpha’s scent became overwhelming, that your fear might extend even to them. 

“Okay,” Yunho cuts in easily, “whatever you want,” 

He eases you back onto the mattress, but the idea that they might be gone again strikes a deep lance of panic through your stomach and you grasp his arm, “Don’t go,” 

“Are you sure?” He murmurs. 

“Please,” You insist, tugging his arm again. 

He eases down beside you, and Mingi crosses to the opposite side of the bed so he can follow suit, sidling up to your back but careful not to touch you until you make it clear that you want him to. You fold your arm underneath your head and rest yourself down, and when your hair shifts off your neck you hear Yunho’s sharp intake of breath at the sight of your tender gland. 

“Baby, what,” He reaches for you, fingertips hovering, “sweetheart, what did you do?” 

“I’m fine,” You murmur but when you feel fingers gently coast over the raw skin you hiss sharply in pain and both their hands pull back. 

“y/n,” Mingi’s voice is low, shaky, and he scoops up your arm to check your wrists, finding them as swollen and bruised, “oh my god,” 

“I know,” You murmur, letting your eyes drift shut. 

“This is not okay,” Mingi sounds pained, “you can’t hurt yourself like this,” 

“I’m okay, I promise,” 

“We could have helped,” Yunho insists, “we could have scented you again, both of us, or called Seonghwa, or something, anything,” 

“Seonghwa?” You start, but Mingi cuts you off as he pushes your hair further to the side to see more of your neck. 

He makes a tight noise with his tongue against his teeth, “These look tender, Yunho’s right,” 

“You scented me plenty,” You shake your head, letting your hair fall back into place, “but I promise, I’m okay,” 

Mingi wraps his arms around you from behind, tucking you close to his chest and dropping his head onto yours, “You’re scaring me,” he confesses into your hair. 

“I know,” You murmur, “but I wasn’t trying to hurt myself,” 

“And now?” Yunho asks softly. 

“I’m a little better,” You pull him closer, “I was overwhelmed earlier and… even you both I didn’t want, but now? I feel safer, clearer,” 

Yunho kisses your forehead, letting his lips linger as you all get your emotions back in check, “Okay,”  

“Can we stay just like this?” You nuzzle into him, pulling Mingi in closer behind you until you’re snuggled up so tight you might overheat . 

“I’ll be wherever you want,” Mingi wraps his hand around yours and tucks them into your chest.

Yunho murmurs his agreement softly and you nod, letting their heat soak into your body and releasing your tense muscles bit by bit. You were supposed to tell them how you felt already, you need to get it out in the open before things get too blurry again, but right now you have to let it go. 

Silence stretches between the three of you, their breathing even and low, and you’re not sure if they’re asleep or awake when you make your quiet plea in the dark but in a whisper you beg them to never, ever let you go again. At least for tonight, they hold you fast.