#i’m sad and not really in the mood for angst :(

[nctstar]

Can you write a smut w plot on Taeyong x sub!reader x Mark ? I am craving for this pair please bestie...you can take your time, no rush. make them a bit possessive and dom and you can add anything to your liking.

hiii friend! i know this is CRAZY late but i hope you still like it <3 turned out a bit more sad than expected HAHA

dumb conversations, we lose track of time

“I love you.”

“I love you too.” He bent over to kiss you, bringing both of his icy hands to your face, but you didn’t care. The kiss was everything, and you brought your bodies over to the wall as you continued, one of his legs now in between yours. “Fuck, I think…I’m gonna miss you so bad.”

pairing: markyong x fem!reader (no markyong ship)

other members: other 127 members mentioned

word count: 3k

genre: romance & smut, angst, fluff, sort of hurt/comfort

warnings: sexual content so minors please dni!! mild profanity, mentions of being sick from food, kissing, dom!markyong, praise kink, degradation (use of slut/whore), daddy kink, slapping, penetrative sex, riding, oral (male receiving), manhandling/being held down/held in place, missionary sex, praising (sweet girl, good girl), crying (like lots of crying!!), subspace, double penetration (2 in 1), clitoral stimulation, taeyong is leaving for military service and this is upsetting to reader (strong self insert moment LMAO)

disclaimer: this is a fanfiction purely from my (filthy) imagination. I don't know the nct members and don't claim that they act like this in real life. I also do not condone any of the activity by any of the characters in this fic. 

a/n: NOW i know i was technically supposed to make this a (freaky) smut only...but i had to add the extra things because i have been sooo emotional lately and i have not really been in a smut mood unless it's emotional and loving :D with the release of the tortured poets department, taeyong's enlistment, renjun's hiatus...ya'll it's just been a lot. so a lot of this is very much just me projecting HAHA but hope it's comforting to some of you. also, i just wanna say that you guys shouldn't feel pressured to engage in sexual activity when you're sad and crying...everything here is consensual of COURSE as always, and this is all fantasy but i just thought I'd add that in. please take care of yourselves when you're vulnerable. love ya'll mwah <3

You stifled your giggles in the droop of your cardigan, but Taeyong still flushed red. Your cheeks puffed out as you fought the urge to snort in his face. “I’m so sorry.”

He rolled his eyes, instinctively going to run his hands through his now non-existent hair, making you double over in laughter. “Alright, miss, that’s enough. Hilarious, I know.”

“Noooo Taeyong, don’t be embarrassed.” You ran over, pinching his cheeks in your hands, feeling his skin hot and elastic under your thumbs. “You’re so cute. Like…Anpanman!”

“I know you love jjingppang, jagi, but that was so uncalled for.” You strung his arm into your body, letting the both of you walk away from the dim lights of the restaurant. “Why? Are you hungry? But didn’t you just eat?”

“There is always space for dessert, hon. Come on, we’ve been together 2 and a half years now, and you still don’t know my philosophies?” You were teasing, having fun, but as you watched another couple walk in front of you, hands gripped tightly together, the shadows in the trees dancing across their bodies, you felt something sharp poke inside you. You gulped the feeling down, forcing a smile, even though you knew he wasn’t watching.

“You’ll get sick if you eat too much bread again.” You shook your head, scoffing. “That was one time, Taeyong. And it was in Japan. I would definitely have eaten that much again.”

“Really? I recall you crying in the bathroom, whining to me about why I didn’t stop you.” You knocked him playfully, feeling his scent permeate your senses and bring you back to those times in Japan. He was here now, a solid body standing right next to you, brushing up against you, but…You felt a sudden rush of emotion, but you could see Mark’s car now, and you decided not to bring up what you had been thinking the entire time.

“So-“

“I’m sorry I’m leaving you.” The words surprised you, even though it was something both of you had been holding back the entire time. “I’m sorry I have to do this.”

“Don’t be silly.” You were standing in front of him now, the white streetlights illuminating every line on his face, too scared to look into his eyes. “You have to do it, right? And, you should be proud of yourself. It’s hard work you are willing to dedicate yourself to for a while. And, I can always take care of myself.”

“You have Mark.”

“No, I can take care of myself.” You nodded as if you were trying to convince yourself instead of just him. Your eyes watered, working against every restraint you had. “Please, just…it will be fine. I will still see you. Just, not as often. But you’ll still be here.” He held both your hands, bringing them to his chest, and you were looking at your shoes, watching them get blurrier, feeling him pull your body towards his.

You couldn’t do it. Not for the last time.

“Bye.” You let go of his hands, turning swiftly around and walking towards the parked car at a pace that seemed closer to running.

The warmth enveloped you, and you hastily rubbed off the tears, almost embarrassed at the thought of crying in front of him. Both of them. “H-hey, Mark.”

“You okay?” You nodded, and he brought your hand to his lips, lightly pecking it before he shifted gears.

∞

The apartment was quiet at first, as if it already sensed the loss of one tenant. “Just squeezing past, babe.” Mark’s shoulder brushed yours as the keys jangled in his fingers, his steps retreating towards the bathroom. You walked over to the couch, looking at the empty cake box, the one Doyoung had bought to celebrate. The cake crumbs that littered the floor, the frosting on the couch – you didn’t even have the heart to be mad.

“Is that frosting…on the couch?”

You chuckled weakly, sniffling. “Yeah. I thought I told Jungwoo not to make a mess.”

“You didn’t. You’re so quiet around the boys. So shy.” Mark’s breath tickled your neck, his lips grazing the skin hidden underneath your cardigan. He kissed you gently, bringing one hand to your shoulder, the one he had brushed. “It’s what I love about you.”

You smiled, watching Mark’s shadow cover you as he moved to sit next to you on the couch. “What a mess. This isn’t driving you crazy?” You shook your head, but you smiled, a little bit more genuine this time. Curling up next to Mark, you basked in the heat of his body. He pressed his nose to the top of your head, inhaling your scent. “You smell good.”

“You trying to get laid, Lee?” You felt his chest shake as he laughed, both a little awkwardly and without holding back, like he always did. You thought of all the times you fell asleep in his lap, feeling him stroke your body soothingly as you both waited for Taeyong to get home.

You sat up, turning, looking deep into Mark’s eyes. “I love you.” You kissed him, pulling his bottom lip with your mouth as you pulled away. He ran his hands up your back, connecting lips as you climbed onto his lap, so quick to bring your body against his. He held your hips in place when you stared to move, groaning softly as he pulled away from your mouth. “Are you sure?”

“What, am I sure I love you?”

“No, I mean,” he gasped shortly when you kissed his collarbone, a spot only you knew how to tease. “Easy, baby. I mean, are you okay with doing it tonight?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Your voice came out sharper than you intended, and you hated yourself in that moment for ruining it all. Desperate to stop him from continuing, you shut him up with a kiss, moving his hands from your hips so you could grind against his growing bulge. Your fingers in his hair, you dug your knees on the couch so you could push your chest onto his face. He moaned this time, tugging at the ends of your hoodie to signal you to take it off. You hissed when the cold hit your bare torso, Mark unhooking your bra clasp as you shivered. “You cold, sweetheart?” You nodded, but you were sitting back onto his lap, both of you shrugging off your bottoms as you talked. The cold drew goosebumps on your skin, but you felt wet and hot in the pits of your stomach.

“Fuck, so tight.” Mark threw his head back as you cried out, feeling the stretch harder than you remembered. He held you in place with a hand on the small of your back, another on your thigh. “Shhh. Come closer to me. Good girl.” He continued praising you as you sunk deeper onto his length, inches buried inside you. “W-wait.” You pressed a hand to his stomach, warning him not to move as you scrunched your eyes shut. “So fucking big.” Mark laughed, moving your hand away and bringing your chest closer to his mouth. As he licked and nipped at your body, you began to relax, your breath quickening with every passing second. His dick jumped inside you, making you whimper. “You ready, sweet girl?”

You tasted the tears before you felt them, streaked down your face. “Please.” you begged, and he began to thrust up into you. “Fuck, Mark, M-Mark!” Your voice carried through the apartment as he rolled his hips into you. “Come on, baby, that’s it. You’re our good girl, right?” You sobbed, bringing one hand to your mouth to quieten yourself, but he pulled the hand away. “If you’re gonna cum, you better do it screaming my name. You understand?” He held your chin into place. “Use your words.”

“Yes, yes, p-please. Fuck,” You gasped, feeling the ripples of pleasure run through your body. “I’m close! Please, Mark, can I-“

“Yeah, good girl, baby. I’m close too.” His voice was raspy, his thrusts sloppy as he reached his own high. You shut your eyes, feeling your thighs constrict as you came. You breathed heavily, the tears still running down your face. When the ringing sound stopped post-orgasm, you heard yourself crying.

“Hey, hey. You did well, sweetheart. It’s okay, I’m right here.” You nodded, feeling your body slump against him. “Can I pull out? Does it hurt? I didn’t hurt you, right?”

You looked into his eyes, feeling the way he held you so securely in his arms. “I miss him. I miss the three of us. I know it’s silly, because it technically hasn’t happened yet, but,” you sighed. “I didn’t know how hard it would be until it really happened.”

Mark hummed in agreement, wiping away your tears. “Of course. That’s not silly. And, I love you too, okay? I’m here for you.” You wrapped your arms around his body, breathing in his scent, feeling Mark pull your hoodie around the both of you. “You never hurt me, Mark.”

∞

You both woke up with a jolt when the knocking started. You climbed off Mark as your eyes shot open, and the both of you started frantically dressing, as if the person had entered straight away. “Who’s coming over so late?” Mark grumbled.

“Hopefully Jungwoo to clean the couch.” You muttered, but Mark was rushing to open the door after peeking through the peephole, and you frowned.

“Hyung.”

You knew it was him. But you couldn’t even move. In that moment, you were frozen in time.

“Hi, jagi.” His body stood looming over yours, his face red from the cold outside. You didn’t know what to say, rubbing the itch on one of your ankles to kill time.

“You’re…you’re here.”

“Yeah. It’s my apartment too, right?” He smirked. “Why, is the Anpanman look enough to make you forget me?” You laughed, sniffling, hitting him lightly on the chest. You noticed Mark raise an eyebrow, left out of the inside joke. Your stomach churned, your heart pining for a loss that suddenly was not lost, and it all felt so out of place.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.” He bent over to kiss you, bringing both of his icy hands to your face, but you didn’t care. The kiss was everything, and you brought your bodies over to the wall as you continued, one of his legs now in between yours. “Fuck, I think…I’m gonna miss you so bad.”

“You’ll live.” You scoffed, pushing him away. He laughed, the smile lines on his face making your heart soar. “I don’t think I’m gonna miss these stupid jokes.”

He kissed your forehead. “I think you will.” You rolled your eyes, but he was right. As always. You ran a hand up his chest, then, underneath the hoodie he was wearing. You gasped in an exaggerated, ditsy way, making your voice airy on purpose. “Officer, I think you’re pretty hard right now.”

Taeyong smirked, his eyes darkening as he gripped the wrist of your wandering hand. “Oh yeah? You think you know me so well? Wanna play that game?” In the corner of your eye, you watched Mark’s figure step closer. “She already did, Hyung.” He pushed his tongue on the side of his cheek, and you fluttered your eyelashes at Taeyong, feigning innocence. “I didn’t do anything. He’s lying.”

“Oh?” Mark looked pissed, and you only giggled in response. Taeyong brought his face closer to yours. “If I find out you’ve been lying, you’re done for. Now, on your knees.” You complied, seconds later being met with Taeyong’s length springing out of his boxers. You covered his tip with your mouth, but you felt your hair being yanked backwards and a slap on your face. “Did I say anything yet? Dirty slut.” Mark’s grip on your hair didn’t falter, and you whined. “If you want to suck me so bad, you better be ready to beg for it.”

“Mmm, please. Please let me taste you, Daddy. Please, I’ll be good.” Mark’s other hand travelled under your chin, tilting your head up almost uncomfortably, making you yelp. “Tap him if it’s too much, okay?” You nodded in response, and as soon as you did, Mark’s thumb pressed hard on your bottom lip, prying your jaw open. Taeyong thrusted inside your open mouth, guttural groans leaving him as he did. Tears sprung to your eyes at the sudden intrusion, the apartment now filled with the sounds of you violently gagging on dick. Your fists clenched by your sides. “Pretty cockwhore, aren’t you?” Mark whistled lowly, making you squeeze your legs in embarrassment. “Ah, so you like being our nasty little thing. As expected.” You shook your head, but he only tightened his grip, laughing almost cruelly in response. Taeyong pulled out when he heard you choking, inhaling air as soon as his tip left your mouth. “Not so talkative now, are you, pretty?” Your voice raspy as you spoke, you opened your mouth wider, sticking your tongue out. “Daddy’s little whore, yeah?” You could only hum in response as Mark held you still, Taeyong jerking himself off on your tongue. You swallowed the cum in your mouth, letting some of it drool out of your mouth. Taeyong bent over, spreading it over your chin, mixed with your drool. “Go and bend over the couch.” You went to nod once more, but he slapped your face. “Words.”

“Y-yes, T-Taeyongie.” You only used that when you were floating away, letting yourself go, and to be honest, you were surprised it had happened so soon. As you bent over the couch, you had an inkling that they were surprised too. You felt Taeyong’s hands on your sides, and you jumped. “Sorry, jagi. Is this still okay?”

“Uh-huh.” You felt wetness pool in between your legs. “Please, f-fuck me. Before, what happened…well, Markie…I’m sorry I lied, Daddy.” You heard Taeyong shushing you. “I want you to enjoy yourself, beautiful. Okay? Tell me if this is too much.” You sighed, relaxing when you felt Taeyong rub up your back, pressing hard in the way that you liked. Under his hands, you felt safe. Calm. Honest.

“C-Can we go to the bedroom? I don’t like this position.”

Your body burned, even though your shared bedroom was freezing tonight. “Fuck, it’s cold in here.” Taeyong held you close to your body, as if he never wanted to let go.

As the three of you sat on the edge of the bed, you began to ugly cry. Taeyong rubbed your back as you shook, Mark taking a tissue to wipe your chin. “Was it too much? Baby?” You didn’t know who was speaking, but you held both their hands, unable to stop the tears from falling. “No, its just that,” you rubbed your face harshly, feeling the days makeup rub off on your hand. “This is all so fucking dumb. I’m sorry, but, I don’t want you to leave. I don’t care if that makes me a bad person.” Taeyong laughed as he held your head in both his hands, pulling you into his body. Mark ran his hands soothingly up your thighs. “I think I love this side of you, actually.”

You smiled, remembering your conversation only a while ago. “Sorry I’m ruining everything.”

“Sorry but, you must be fucking crazy if you think that’s true for even a second.” Unlocking yourself from Taeyong’s embrace, you exaggerate lifting your hands up in surrender. “Okay, relax, Mark. Don’t call a woman crazy.”

“Especially not a horny one.” You snorted at this, making both of them laugh. Sighing, you tried to appear mad or even annoyed. But you hadn’t felt more free in days.

He was right. You were going to miss these stupid jokes.

The three of you rolled onto the bed, you straddling Taeyong while Mark left noisy kisses down the sides of your neck from behind. “I want you both inside me. Please.” You moaned as Mark squeezed your boob from under your shirt, your head on his shoulder as Taeyong pulled your panties down, the three of you momentarily and, almost comically, struggling with taking them all the way off.

Your hands splayed across Taeyong’s bare chest, you bent over to kiss him. “I’ll miss you.” You whispered against his skin, and he squeezed the outside of your thigh in response. As Mark sheathed himself inside you for the second time that night, he began to thrust straight away. “Still fits like a fucking sleeve, so fucking good.” Your breath quickened as your clit rolled against Taeyong’s bare cock, your moans thickening as you watched Taeyong lie beneath you. “You ready, my love?” You nodded furiously, Mark holding onto you with an arm across your shoulders, pressing your body flush against his. Both men guided you onto Taeyong’s length, the stretch now burning, firecrackers exploding in your stomach. “Fuck! Oh fuck!” You couldn’t breathe, pulling at Mark’s arm, slowly registering him shushing you in your ear. “Relax, baby girl. You’re doing so well. Almost there.” Taeyong groaned in pleasure, shifting the tiniest bit, which made you yelp. The feeling was so unfamiliar, and your heart pounded at the new sensations. “Please, don’t move yet.” Taeyong rubbed circles on your clit, watching your face carefully.

“Nghh, ahh…” The feeling of both of them inside you was starting to choke you from the inside, deliciously bringing you close to a release. “Wait, Daddy, don’t-“ You squealed as you squirted, your clit throbbing from the aftermath. “Shit, I don’t know if I can-“

“You can cum again, pretty. I know you can.” You moaned, feeling both of them bump against each other and into your walls inside you, wet and messy. “Oh my god, oh my…” you babbled, holding onto anything as they thrusted relentlessly, both their timing desperate and rocky. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum!”

“Cum for us, jagi, that’s it.” Taeyong’s voice rose in pitch, and you heard Mark groaning in your ear, pressing your upper body closer to his. You came for the second time, gasping for air, hips rolling without permission over both their cocks. You slumped over Taeyong after, Mark pulling out and resting next to you both on the bed.

[bunnliix]

The Point of No Return - Hongjoong x reader

I am in an angsty mood so here we go. This was born out of the need for angst but also Ateezchella so this is what happened.

Pairing: Hongjoong x reader Summary: Hongjoong had invited you along with them to Coachella, not wanting you to miss out on this experience with them. However, things don't go to plan. wc: 3k AU: n/a Genre: Angst, Hurt/no comfort Nets: @newworldnet warnings: Death, blood, kidnapping, disappearances, crying, descriptions of a dead body, it's basically just really depressing and sad. it's hurt/no comfort for a reason

You had followed the boys to Coachella for their performances, partially because your boyfriend wanted you to experience this with him and the rest of the members. You had watched their soundcheck, cheering as loud as you could in support of them, which left a smile on Hongjoong’s face. You thoroughly enjoyed the set list they chose for the festival, jumping along to every single song and sometimes attempting the choreography, making the boys try their hardest not to laugh. You weren’t exactly a dancer, so sometimes the moves ended up looking a little funny, but you were having fun and that’s all that matters. 

Today was D-day, the boy’s first performance at Coachella, and the boys were a bundle of nerves, and so were you. There was nothing any of you could really do, except try and relax, and you were told by all the boys to go and enjoy the performances for the boys since they weren’t able to roam around before their set. You roamed around the festival grounds, enjoying the atmosphere and the vibes, and just soaking in the energy around you. You went to attend Sabrina Carpenter’s set, which was one of the few that day that you were excited to watch live. There had been a couple times you almost had the chance to see her live in concert, but then life or Ateez things had come up and blocked those plans.

Being that you were a part of the Ateez entourage, you normally wouldn’t have security, but Hongjoong was concerned about sasaengs and other dangers that could happen at the festival, and added you as a part of the security team’s list of people to protect. So you had two members of the team with you at all times, despite your insistence that you would be fine by yourself.

“Won’t the boys need you back with them soon?” You asked one of your bodyguards.

“We’re supposed to stay with you until you meet up with the staff before their set.” He informed you, the other nodding along in agreement. 

“Well, I don’t really need both of you here, I’m only going to Sabrina’s set, and then I’m going to head over to the Sahara stage to wait for their set. Maybe one of you can head back then?” You suggested to them.

“We’re really not supposed to leave you with only one of us, Mr. Kim told us that we’re both supposed to stay with you until you meet with KQ staff.” The other bodyguard spoke up.

“But if I’m only going from one stage to the other, what could go wrong?” You said.

“If you’re sure you’ll only need one of us, then I’ll head back.” The second bodyguard told you.

“I’m sure. The boys will need you more than I will.” You told him, a tone of finality in your voice.

Watching the guard walk away, you turned to the remaining man, telling him that it was time to head over to the stage for Sabrina’s performance. He walked closely behind you as you made your way through the crowds, weaving through the groups of people, quickly navigating the festival grounds and arriving just in time to Sabrina’s set. You didn’t mind being farther back, it allowed you to have more space to move about, and room to breathe.

Singing along to every song she sang, you were having the time of your life. You had more than a couple people look over at you during the entire set, not that you cared. Though, there were more than a couple times that a couple different sets of people bumped into you, which you quickly shook off, not thinking anything of it except that people wanted to get closer to the stage and were not aware of anyone around them. You didn’t let some rude people ruin the fun and excitement of finally seeing Sabrina live.

Eventually the performance came to an end, and it was your time to head over to the Sahara stage, to find both one of the staff members that you were meeting up with, plus to get a spot for the boys’ performance late that night. You once again started weaving your way through the festival grounds, stopping for some food and a drink along the way. You waited in line with your guard right next to you, and after getting what you paid for, you headed over to the Sahara stage, ready to start the long wait till your boys’ set. Once you got close to the stage, you waved off the remaining bodyguard, telling him you could make it the short distance to the staff member by yourself, and he reluctantly left, heading back to where the rest of the security team was situated. 

Time skip to the performance...

Hongjoong was having the time of his life on stage, soaking up the atmosphere around him, feeding on the energy coming from his members and the crowd, and knowing that his girlfriend was somewhere out there as well, cheering him and the others on just as she had the day prior. All too quickly did it end, and despite the mix up that was the failure of the boys to exit the stage the way they planned to, the rest of their performance couldn’t have gone better. 

Arriving back at the backstage area for performers, they quickly took photos, before finding somewhere to sit down and just relax after the adrenaline rush that was their performance. The minutes ticked by, Hongjoong growing worried and impatient that you had yet to show up backstage. Had staff not done their job? Had they not made sure you were allowed back here? Should he send their manager out to grab you? He checked his phone, but you hadn’t sent him anything. Maybe your phone died? These questions swirled inside of his head, until the staff member they had assigned to meet you came rushing into the area, and over to the group's manager. Hongjoong got up, making his way over to the two, when he heard his manager exclaim to the staff member.

“What do you mean she never showed up?! Why didn’t you say something hours ago?!” The manager half yelled at the staff member, who started making excuses. 

Hongjoong stopped in his tracks, the words constantly replaying over and over in his head. You had never shown up and made contact with the staff member? He knew your bodyguard came back, he saw the man return, but he had assumed that meant you had found the staff member who was supposed to be responsible for you during your time spent at their stage.

Seonghwa came up beside their captain, a worried look on his face. “What do you mean she never showed up? Where is she then?” He inquired, to which no one had answers for him.

Hongjoong stayed silent for a moment longer, before launching into action, moving to find the men responsible for your safety. He quickly found the two men, barking out at them, “What the fuck were you doing? No one can find my girlfriend, the woman you were supposed to be protecting?!” He yelled at them, throwing any pretense of being calm right out the window. 

The guard who he had seen return started talking first. “I escorted her to the stage, and once we were there, she convinced me that she could find the staff member on her own, and so I returned here.” He told Hongjoong.

“You should have stayed with her until she made contact with our staff. Now she’s missing and it might be your fucking fault!” He yelled, getting close to the security guard until San and Jongho pulled him away, the entire group having followed their captain on his warpath. 

“I didn’t think she could have gotten into danger in the couple hundred feet it would have taken her to get to the staff member.” The guard justified his actions, and indirectly, your choices to tell the guard to leave.

“Well you made a wrong decision. Now get out there and go look for her, you assholes!” He screamed at them, the two quickly leaving with the rest of the security team to scour the grounds for you, or any hints as to where you’ve gone. 

The members convinced Hongjoong to go back to where they had been, and wait for news. Hongjoong couldn't sit still, pacing back and forth until he heard that they had found you. He wouldn’t be able to handle anything less than you showing up in front of him. He couldn’t bear the thought of them not finding you, of never seeing you again.

A security team member came jogging in, trying to catch his breath once he stopped. He raised a hand, and Hongjoong immediately knew it was your phone. He’d recognize that case anywhere, he hand painted it for you after all. Sunflowers, the flower you reminded him of. The reality of the situation started kicking in at that moment, and he knew that you wouldn’t have just left your phone hanging around. There was no way you would have, you protected your phone like it held the codes for nuclear bombs.

He fell to his knees, knowing something had gone horribly wrong, and he felt responsible for it all, seeing as he was the one who pushed for you to go out and enjoy the festival. He should have kept you here with them, shouldn’t have let you out of their, out of his sight. If he had kept you here with them, it wouldn’t be like this right now, you would be safe here with them, not out there alone, or worse. 

Yunho moved to take the phone from the security team member, using the code they all knew to open it. Finding that once he did, the notes app was left open, and as he read the text on the screen, he felt his stomach drop.

‘She doesn’t deserve you. No one deserves you. You’re too good for her. It’s okay, you’ll be better off without her. Atiny will make sure she stays far away from you. You don’t need to worry about her. She’ll be an eternal attendee of Coachella.’

Mingi looked at the text from over his friend's shoulder, and could help but let out a sob. This alerted the others that something was wrong.

“Yunho. Mingi. What’s going on?” Seonghwa questioned, and Yunho could only shake his head before he turned the phone towards Seonghwa, who quickly read what was on the screen, tears falling from his eyes as his hand came to cover his mouth.

Hongjoong, coming back to the present, quickly stood up, losing his balance and Jongho rushed to steady him, before he shrugged off the maknae’s help.

“What’s going on?” He asked, looking between the three men.

“Hongjoong, I don’t think you should know.” Seonghwa tried to persuade his best friend.

“I need to know. Show me now!” Hongjoong said, before just snatching your phone from Yunho’s hand, looking down at the text on his lover’s phone. His face paled as he read further, the phone eventually dropping from his hand, dropping right down to the ground. Yeosang rushed to pick it up, finding that the screen had been shattered, the text on the screen still readable, though the fairy-like man couldn’t find it in himself to read it, not after seeing his friend’s reactions to what was contained on the phone.

Hongjoong himself collapsed, his body falling to the ground not long after your phone did. Where were you? He couldn’t believe that their fans, no they weren’t fans, not if they did something to you. They could never be fans if these were the actions they decided to take, that they felt he was too good for you. He was in a state of shock, he couldn’t process anything going on outside of the thoughts in his own head. 

Thankfully Seonghwa stepped in, ordering the security team and their staff to go searching the grounds, making sure they knew to cover every single piece of the festival, and they all set out. Yunho and the others were already huddling around Hongjoong, trying their best to comfort the man, their friend whose girlfriend is currently missing and more than likely, in danger. From those who claim to be their own fans. 

None of the boys have any sense of time, seconds feel like minutes and minutes feel like hours, until the sound of an incoming call comes from one of their phones. It’s Seonghwa’s phone that’s ringing and he answers it, hoping for good news. As the other boys watched him step away and listen to what the person on the other side was saying, they saw him freeze before he dropped to the ground as his hand holding the phone fell into his lap.

Yeosang and Wooyoung hurry over to their hyung’s side, Yeosang hugging the older man while Wooyoung took the phone, pulling it up to his ear to find out what happened, interrogating the person on the phone. Soon he fell into the same state as Seonghwa, sobs bursting out of his mouth as tears flowed down his cheeks, his head shaking as he repeatedly denied the knowledge he had just gained. This signaled to the others that whatever news their staff had, wasn’t good. 

“Seonghwa-hyung, talk to me. What did they say?” Yeosang tried to get his friend to talk, but his friend wouldn’t say a word.

“They found her.” Wooyoung whispered, everyone turning to him, the silence so loud you could hear a pin drop, despite the roaring of the crowds not too far away.

“And?” Mingi asked, daring to hope that they would get some good news tonight.

“She’s dead. They killed her. She’s gone.” Seonghwa managed to get out, before he doubled over, unable to say anymore. 

‘She’s dead. She’s dead. She’s dead.’ Those two words echoed in Hongjoong’s mind, and he wouldn’t, he couldn’t let himself believe that. You couldn’t be dead, he saw you only hours ago. There’s no way they would have killed you. Why would anyone want to hurt you? He stared down at his hands as they sat in his lap, feeling as if he just believed you were alive and this was all a big joke, it would become true.

“They want one of us to come confirm it’s her. They’re sending a member of the security team to come take one of us to her.” Yeosang spoke up, having just hung up the call with whoever had informed them of this news.

Silence reigned over them for a couple minutes, until Hongjoong spoke up. “I need to see her. She can’t be dead. She just can’t be.”

“I don’t know if that’s wise Hongjoong-hyung.” Yunho said to the older man, “I think it’s probably best if one of us goes to do that. You don’t want to have your last memory of her like this.” He told his friend.

“She’s not dead, she’s just fine. I’ll see her and we can get her some help and she’ll be okay.” Their captain continued, deep in denial.

The rest of the group looked at him with pity in their eyes, they knew he wouldn’t believe that you were gone until he saw it for himself, but they didn’t want to see him destroy himself once he realized the truth. They knew exactly how much their friend cared for you, and this would destroy him. He was planning to propose to you next weekend, after they finished their performance. And now he’d never get the chance to.

Finally the members of the team arrived to lead whoever wanted to take the burden of confirming that the body was in fact you. What they arrived at, was the boys on the ground and cries and sniffles coming from those who realized it was time to go see you. Seonghwa stood up, assuming the responsibility, though Jongho joined him, and soon it became the entirety of Ateez, surrounding Hongjoong at the center of them all. He had insisted on going, and none of them could tell him no.

They made the trek over to the spot where those people had left you, and sadly, it wasn’t far from where the backstage area was. It was a deserted area, where very few people would stumble upon, leaving the perfect place for those demented people to take you.

San was the first to see you, where you laid on the grass, with so many people surrounding you. His steps faltered, and that caught their attention until they saw where San was looking, and gasps and cries came from the group as they processed that it was really you. That you really were gone, that your lifeless body laid there on the grass, almost as if you were just taking a nap instead. Hongjoong scrambled over to you, everyone moving out of his way to allow the idol passage.

He fell to the ground next to you, a shaky hand reaching out and touching your face, flinching away at how cold you felt. This was when it all started to kick in for him, that you were really gone, that he’d never get to see you smile again, never get to kiss you, never get to hear your voice call his name.

“You can’t be gone, you can’t leave me like this. We were supposed to spend our lives together!! You have to come back! Please, just come back to me.” Hongjoong cried out, leaning over your body, the shirt you were wearing was his, he picked this outfit out for you this morning. God, that was the last time he saw you alive. He’d never get to wake up next to you in the mornings, never get to go on another date with you. Never get to see you walk down the aisle towards him wearing a wedding dress and saying yes to being with him for the rest of your lives. It wasn’t supposed to end this way. 

The rest of Ateez gathered around Hongjoong and you, both mourning your passing and trying to be there to support their captain, their friend. You were a special part in all of their lives, how were they supposed to move on from this?

If you wanna see a beautifully written continuation to this fic, check out this fic by @vent-stink, which I consider a very canonical ending to how Hongjoong would react after all of this.

Taglist: @bethelighthalazia

[just-aake]

Detecting Love

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary: A person with the power to detect lies meets the spy who has been trained to lie her entire life.

Warnings: fluff, light angst

Words: 6169

You have the power to detect lies. 

Now, it’s not exactly strong enough to be a hero, but you can honestly say that it has been useful in your life. 

Sure, it gets annoying at times, but one of the many lessons you’ve learned is to ignore minor instances of dishonesty — white lies or small things like that — since it helps reduce unnecessary confusion or chaos with others.

People lie. That is an undeniable fact of life.

And while one may believe that being able to detect such things is great, the truth is there are times when you find yourself resenting your power. 

Because, of course, everyone experiences moments when they wish that someone important to them isn't lying.

Like when your fiancée tells you she loves you.

There wasn’t really a malicious reason behind why a usually affectionate statement suddenly became so hurtful.

There was no cheating.

There was no fighting.

It was just another one of the many lessons you’ve learned in life.

That sometimes…a truth can also become a lie.

It’s just unfortunate that this lesson happened to you in such a way.

These kinds of moments make you wonder if maybe it’s better that people shouldn’t always know when someone is lying to them.

Then they don’t end up alone, drinking at a bar late into the night, trying to numb the pain of a broken heart.

You let out a heavy sigh as you stare at the pair of rings resting on the bar top, remembering the conversation that ended with one of them being returned to you. 

It was a heart-wrenching discussion where your fiancée confessed her steadily changed feelings for you, leading to the resolution to remain friends. 

And while neither of you is completely at fault for why things ended, you can’t help but blame your stupid power for putting you in the situation in the first place. 

You sigh heavily once more before swiftly downing the glass the bartender had set in front of you.

At least your current attempt to drown your sorrow is going well, judging by how the rings start to blur in your vision.

With a sad sigh, you reach for the rings to put them away, but in your clumsy state, one slips from your grasp and tumbles to the floor.

Just as you move to retrieve it, a hand beats you to it. 

Looking up, you find a red-haired stranger standing before you, offering the ring to you with a charming smile.

She looks familiar but the drunken haze in your brain makes it hard for you to remember where you’ve seen her before.

“Here, you dropped this,” she says, her voice low and smooth.

She’s beautiful and her voice sounds perfect. You think to yourself as you take the ring from her.

She chuckles lightly, “Thanks.”

Oh, did you say that out loud? You must be more drunk than you thought.

The woman offers her hand to you in greeting, and with a confident smirk, she introduces herself.

“My name’s Natalie. Natalie Rushman.”

Immediately, a red aura surrounds her, causing you to roll your eyes and return your attention back to the bar. 

“Liar,” you mutter tiredly as you gesture to the bartender to close your tab, not really in the mood to deal with any more lies tonight.

At the corner of your eyes, you see the stranger give you a slightly impressed look.

Ready to leave, you stand up quickly from your seat.

However, the action makes the room suddenly spin in your vision, causing you to stagger backward. 

A hand steadies you, resting gently on your back, and you unconsciously lean back against her surprisingly strong frame for support.

There’s a soft chuckle near your ear, sending a shiver down your spine.

“Let me try again,” she whispers smoothly, guiding you upright and turning you around to face her.

Offering her hand once more, she reintroduces herself.

“My name’s Natasha Romanoff. I’m here to recruit you to work for the Avengers.”

You blink slowly, trying to comprehend her words through your drunken haze. You wonder if the alcohol is affecting you more than you thought when no red aura appears this time at her words.

Chuckling to yourself, you shake your head in disbelief, unfortunately worsening the pounding in your skull. 

Work for the Avengers? That has to be a lie.

Before you can think about it any further, you feel yourself falling once more, unable to remain upright.

Strong arms catch you, and as your consciousness fades, you see a blurry glimpse of her striking green eyes before succumbing to darkness.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

You wake to the pounding in your head and the bright sunlight streaming through your window. Turning away, you groan into your pillow, remembering that your fiancée – your ex-fiancée – would typically close the curtains before leaving for work.

Now that she’s gone, you’re going to have to adjust to living alone once again.

A cup being placed on the nightstand startles you into sitting up, as you turn in surprise to find the beautiful red-haired stranger beside your bed.

“For your headache,” she explains, placing some medicine next to the cup.

Your mouth hangs open as you struggle to remember the events of last night, some of which are honestly a blur. 

You examine yourself, checking your clothes and finding them unchanged from the previous night, and then you scan your surroundings again and realize in relief that nothing was out of place.

Well, except for the presence of this stranger in your home, who’s patiently waiting for you to gather yourself.

Searching through your drunken memories, you think you vaguely remember meeting her last night. She had mentioned her name was — Nata…? 

“Natalie?” you ask with uncertainty.

At her raised brow, you quickly apologize, feeling bad for not remembering correctly.

“I’m sorry, I can’t seem to remember, but did we…did something happen between us last night?” you ask hesitantly.

Her face twists in genuine sadness and disappointment, causing a panic to run through you as you struggle to recall what could’ve possibly happened between the two of you for her to have such an expression.

“I’m hurt,” she finally says, placing a hand on her chest, “And after you even said that it was the best night of your life.”

Seeing the familiar red aura appear around her at her words, you let out a brief sigh of relief before realization sets in, and you give her a hard glare.

“You’re lying.”

Her hurt expression quickly morphs into an impressed look, and you are slightly startled at how effortlessly she was able to shift her emotions. 

The woman straightens her posture and crosses her arms, adopting a commanding stance that seems more likely her typical demeanor.

“So it’s not just luck,” she remarks, studying you curiously. 

At her words, you quickly rise from your bed in confusion.

However, the action causes you to wince in pain at the pounding in your head. 

Shutting your eyes tightly, you hold your head in comfort and lean lightly on the nightstand for support. 

As you do, your hand brushes against yesterday’s newspaper that you had been reading moments before your ex said those fateful three words that led to the heartbreaking conversation between the two of you. 

When the pain subsides, you slowly open your eyes, catching a glimpse of the front page before doing a double take.

The front features an article about the opening of the new Avenger Compound, including a photo capturing the Avenger members posed in front of the completed building. 

What catches you off guard is the uncanny resemblance between one of the Avengers in the picture and the woman standing before you.

Pointing at her in disbelief, you stammer.

“You’re…,” then, gesturing at the newspaper, you continue, “…her?”

She doesn’t respond to your question but instead nods toward your other room, inviting you to follow.

“Let’s talk,” she says, heading toward your door, then gestures at the medicine on your nightstand. “But drink those first.”

After freshening up in your bathroom, you take a moment to stare at your reflection in the mirror, noticing the remnants of last night’s tears in your slightly puffy, red eyes. 

Sighing, you brush away the depressing thoughts of your failed relationship before taking the medicine and exiting your room.

You are greeted by the sight of your unexpected guest comfortably seated at your kitchen counter, flipping through a magazine with casual disinterest.

“You’re Black Widow,” you say confidently this time, positioning yourself on the opposite side of her.

She closes the magazine with a snap, placing it on the table before clasping her hands atop of it and meeting your gaze.

“It’s actually Natasha,” she corrects you, before nodding at you. “And you’re Y/n L/n.”

“How did you…?”

She holds up a wedding invitation draft, displaying you and your fiancée’s names printed in fine lettering. 

Realizing that she must have been snooping around your things, you give her a disapproving glare, snatching the card from her hand and hastily stuffing it into a drawer.

Feeling a mixture of emotions—irritated, sad, hungover—you turn to the fridge, deciding to make breakfast to give yourself some focus. 

After you retrieve the eggs and other ingredients, you heat the stove before glancing at Natasha briefly, asking, “So, what does an Avenger want from me?”

Out of the corner of your eye, you see her resting her head against her hand, watching you with interest.

“I told you yesterday,” she replies.

You roll your eyes, giving her a deadpan look, knowing she’s aware that you don’t remember.

“Remind me again.”

Natasha gives you an amused smirk, straightening up in her seat. 

“Alright, I’m here to recruit you, more specifically for a sort of managerial position at the new Avenger Compound.”

Furrowing your brows, you question, “Why me? I don't have experience with that sort of thing.”

“But you can tell when someone is lying, can’t you?”

Pausing briefly in your cooking, you contemplate her words and its possible implications. Not many people know about your ability, and you don’t think you did anything to reveal it to the spy who’s currently staring expectantly at you.

So, in response, you shrug, replying as casually as possible. 

“I guess you could say I’m good at reading people…psychology degree and all.”

A silence ensues, broken only by the sizzling of your cooking, until Natasha finally nods, seemingly accepting your explanation.

You breathe a silent sigh of relief, returning your attention to your current task.

But then she pulls out a folder filled with documents and places it on the counter, causing your nerves to rise again.

“Well, you’ve helped solve hundreds of cases with your interviews of the suspects,” she remarks casually, flipping through the folder before glancing up at you through her lashes. 

“100% accuracy rate in the information that you provided to the detectives,” she continues, nodding at you in acknowledgment. “For a part-time profiler, that’s impressive.”

“Thanks,” you respond with a polite smile, but beneath the surface, a hint of suspicion creeps in as you begin plating the meal you made.

Natasha closes the folder with a definitive snap, making you look at her. 

“You could say it’s almost impossible,” she muses, before a confident smirk forms on her face, and she tilts her head at you with a raised brow in challenge. 

“Unless there’s some way you can guarantee that they’re telling the truth.”

Honestly, you should’ve known better than to think that the experienced spy hadn’t already completed thorough research and investigations into you and your powers before meeting with you.

If anything, this was likely just a test for her to confirm what she already knows about your abilities.

Sliding a plate across the counter to Natasha with a pointed glare, you relent, deciding there’s no point in denying it anymore.

“Fine, what do you know?” 

Instead of responding, Natasha’s gaze lingers on the plate before her, a hint of confusion in her expression. 

Her plate holds a fluffy omelette accompanied by a side of crispy bacon and a slice of golden-brown toasted bread.

As she glances back up at you with a questioning look in her eyes, you take a seat across from her, setting down a similar plate in front of you before also placing a stack of fluffy pancakes at the center.

“What’s this?” she asks, gesturing to the meal.

“Breakfast,” you reply bluntly, taking a bite from your plate.

Natasha raises a brow at you, remarking plainly, “It’s noon.”

“Brunch then,” you correct with a roll of your eyes.

Natasha's lips quirk up in amusement, and she shakes her head.

“Thanks, but I’ve already eaten.” 

The red aura appears around her, and with your mouth full of food, you give her a pointed glare.

“Right,” Natasha says in realization, remembering what you can do. She pulls the plate closer to her with a soft thanks. 

The atmosphere that followed was unusual but surprisingly not awkward. Despite being practically strangers, you find yourself slightly comforted by Natasha’s presence. 

If she wasn’t here, you probably wouldn’t have dragged yourself out of bed today after what happened yesterday.

After a moment of eating, Natasha breaks the silence.

“So, how can you tell when someone’s lying?”

Pausing to contemplate your answer, you wipe your mouth with a napkin before responding. 

“Well, when someone lies, there’s always this rush of chemicals that happens in their bodies,” you explain. “It ends up causing the typical indicators — things like fidgeting, sweating, or tone changes in their voice.”

“I didn’t do any of that, yet you still knew I was lying,” Natasha points out.

“No, you're right,” you admit, nodding. “You’re a perfect liar.”

From what you have seen so far, every expression and comment of hers appears genuine and honest, and if it was anyone else, they’d probably believe anything she says.

However, thanks to your ability, you know better. 

Gesturing at her, you clarify, “You still give off the same chemical reactions though, and I have the ability to see that.”

Natasha leans back in her seat, crossing her arms as she processes your explanation.

“It’s mainly visual then,” she concludes before asking curiously. “You don’t even need to hear what they said to know that they’re lying?” 

You nod, ruefully adding, “Yep, my world’s just filled with people glowing red at random.”

“And how long does this ‘glow’ stay around them?”

“Depends,” you reply with a shrug. “Usually not long, maybe a few seconds.”

Natasha hums in interest, tapping her chin, her brows pinching lightly in thought.

You can’t help but smile amusedly at the sight. 

For a person who has such an intimidating reputation, the spy in front of you right now looks kind of cute rather than scary.

After a moment, you break the silence this time.

“So, what’s the job?” 

Natasha’s eyes focus back on you at your question.

“Nothing too complicated,” she assures. “You’ll be in charge of interviewing the new employee candidates and conducting continuous reviews of the current ones.”

“You mean like screening them?” you ask, tilting your head in confusion, already aware of the rigorous and difficult process required to work at the Avengers buildings. 

“Don’t you guys already do extensive background checks before hiring people? Why do you suddenly need me?”

At your question, a charming smile appears on her face, effortlessly shifting her expression like before, though now you understand she’s just hiding her true feelings about the situation.

“That’s confidential.”

You scoff in disbelief and cross your arms.

“You do know that just makes it harder to trust you, right?”

Natasha mirrors your posture, her pretty grin still in place, masking any other emotions.

“Fair point,” she admits. “But to be honest, you should never put your trust in people like me anyway.”

“People like you?” 

“Spies,” Natasha clarifies as she begins to gather her empty plate and utensils. “Which is one of the types of people you’d be looking out for in this position. Their deception skills would be on a similar level to mine.”

You chuckle at that, causing Natasha to pause in her actions, raising a brow at you in question.

“Sorry, but everyone lies, whether you’re a spy or not,” you tell her, standing and taking the empty plate from her with a small smirk. “You’re just slightly better at it.”

A tiny offended look slips through Natasha’s expression at your little jab, her brow furrowing for a brief second.

Your grin widens at the sight of seeing a glimpse of her real self as you turn to place the dirty dishes in the sink.

Natasha quickly regains her composure, moving around the counter to lean back against the table next to you.

“In any case, the decision is still yours. I’ve already confirmed your abilities. It’s up to you to decide if you want to accept.”

At her words, you pause to consider your options. 

A new job working with the Avengers is a great opportunity, but it would be a significant change in your life. 

Then again, you’re already facing a huge change.

Your eyes unconsciously drift to the drawer next to where Natasha is leaning, where the wedding invitation draft remains, and your face twists in sadness at the memory. 

You guess it wouldn’t hurt to add a career change alongside your new relationship status.

At least this way you can still earn a salary while also distracting yourself from the depressing thoughts of your failed engagement. 

“Okay,” you decide, meeting Natasha’s gaze with a sigh, “I’ll take the job.”

“Great, I knew you would be agreeable,” Natasha remarks, extending her hand to you.

A red aura appears around her, causing you to huff and roll your eyes.

You take her hand in yours, giving her a tiny glare.

“Liar.”

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

“I don’t remember agreeing to this.”

You say that as you dodge another swing from Natasha, ducking under her arm to get behind her, only for her to twist her body around and deliver a kick that you narrowly block with your arms. 

Still, the impact has you stumbling back.

“Really?” Natasha asks with an innocent tone as she circles you. “I thought I mentioned to you that training was a part of your employment.”

A red aura begins to appear around her, but you don’t have time to comment before she swings her leg at you again. 

You catch it against your side with a small grunt of pain.

Having been a profiler for criminal cases before, you do have basic defense training, and you always believed that you could hold your own against most aggressors. 

At least you used to.

This current fight is making you reconsider your skills.

With her off-balance position, you attempt to throw her to the ground, but Natasha swiftly regains her footing, catching herself on her hands and executing a fluid movement to flip upright. She then bends low, sweeping your legs out from under you.

You land on the mat with a groan, feeling the impact reverberate through your body. Another pained breath escapes you as Natasha expertly pins you down.

You catch the faint red aura fading from her before throwing your head back against the mat with an exhausted sigh.

“You’re such a liar,” you breathe out, your voice tinged with both exhaustion and playful accusation. Closing your eyes, you take a moment to catch your breath.

Natasha's laughter fills the air, resonating above you, her amusement infectious and drawing a small grin from you. You peek open your eyes, watching as she disengages from atop you and heads over to her water bottle at the side.

“I’m a spy. It comes with the job,” she says casually, taking a sip.

“Okay, and I’m basically just HR,” you counter, pulling yourself upright into a sitting position. “So how does combat training fit into that?”

Natasha gestures towards you with a sweep of her hand.

“You need to be prepared to defend yourself if you ever expose someone dangerous and find yourself without backup,” she explains.

“That’s unlikely considering I haven’t even encountered anyone suspicious since I started,” you remark with a sigh.

It's been a month already, and you're starting to question if your presence here is even necessary.

Before you can dwell further on your thoughts, the cold touch of a metal water bottle against your cheek startles you.

Recoiling, you look up to see Natasha holding it out to you.

Raising a brow, Natasha waves the bottle lightly in offer.

You snatch the bottle from her with a tiny glare, but she only smirks in response.

Apart from the new job, the other surprising addition to your life is your budding friendship with the Avenger. 

After the whole recruiting ordeal, you honestly expected to only have passing encounters with her at the compound.

However, to your surprise, on your first day here, Natasha was the one who volunteered to give you a tour of the place, and in the days that followed, the two of you would often share coffee and chat before you had to head off to your respective jobs.

Those regular interactions with her also earned you a fearsome reputation among the other workers, which actually works out in your favor since they’re already nervous by the time you call them in for a review. This way they are more likely to slip up and reveal anything they may be hiding.

But, like you said, you haven’t found anything substantial yet.

With a heavy sigh, you pull your knees to your chest, resting your forehead against them, feeling the weight of failure bearing down on you.

Then you hear Natasha plop down beside you.

“Back when we met, you asked me why we needed you,” she begins.

Curious at her words, you turn your head slightly to glance at her, waiting for her explanation.

Natasha leans back on her hands, her gaze fixed on the ceiling as she continues to speak.

“A couple of months ago, our surveillance revealed that someone within the compound staff was plotting an attack during the opening ceremony of the new building. However, we couldn’t confirm who it was without risking exposing that we knew of their plan."

Your eyes widen in confusion at the revelation. From what you remember, the opening ceremony was a success. There hadn’t been any news of an attack that day.

“But you caught them, right?” you inquire.

“No,” Natasha responds, shaking her head before meeting your gaze. “You did.”

Surprised, you straighten up, giving her a questioning look.

Natasha offers a small smile, elaborating, “You had recently interviewed him as a suspect for another case, and in your notes, you labeled him as dangerous and untrustworthy, despite everything about him proving otherwise.”

“And you believed me?” you ask incredulously.

Natasha shrugs, “Well, I had no other leads at the time anyway.”

You scoff in exasperation at her teasing, playfully pushing her away.

She chuckles softly before adopting a more serious expression.

“Trust in your abilities, Y/n,” Natasha says with a genuine tone. “If it’s you, not finding anyone suspicious is a good thing.”

You watch her closely, waiting for the red aura to appear.

But as a couple of seconds pass and nothing changes, you tuck your forehead back against your knees, this time to hide the smile threatening to spread across your face.

“Alright, break’s over,” Natasha announces, giving your back an encouraging pat. “Let’s go again.”

You groan in reluctance, remaining in your curled-up position.

“Come on,” Natasha urges, her tone coaxing. “I’ll go easy on you this time.”

You don’t even need to look up to know the red aura is surrounding her.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

“What’s this?”

Natasha's voice draws your attention away from the task of pouring cooked popcorn into a bowl.

She's sitting on your sofa, examining a small, elegant card that you had accidentally left on the table.

Widening your eyes in realization of what she’s found, you hurry over to her, but her narrowed eyes tell you that she has already read the names on the card.

“She’s inviting you to her wedding?” Natasha exclaims, disbelief coloring her tone. “It’s only been a year since your breakup, and now she’s already getting married?!”

Sighing in disappointment, you had hoped to keep this information from Natasha, who developed a strong dislike for your ex after you shared the details of your breakup during one of your girls' nights.

Placing the bowl of popcorn on the table, you take the invitation from her hand and head to the kitchen, intending to tuck it away in a drawer. 

As you slide it open, you catch the sight of the old wedding draft buried at the bottom, which causes a tiny pang of sadness in your chest at the memory of that time, of how everything changed so suddenly.

You can't help but wonder how your life might have unfolded if your engagement hadn't ended.

Would you still have accepted Natasha's offer if you hadn't been seeking a distraction from your failed relationship? 

“You’re not thinking about going, are you?” Natasha's voice interrupts your thoughts. 

Glancing up, you notice a peculiar look in her eyes, though it quickly shifts to a neutral expression at your gaze.

After a whole year of spending time together, you could tell underneath her impassive expression that she was upset about something; though, you figured it was just outrage at the situation.

Tossing the invitation into the drawer and shutting it, you offer her a small reassuring smile before returning to your seat beside her to start the movie.

“No, of course not,” you tell her.

As the opening scenes play, you maintain a normal, nonchalant expression, aware of Natasha's gaze still lingering on you even as the red aura fades from around your body.

After a while, Natasha huffs in disbelief before finally settling into the sofa, pulling the bowl of popcorn into her lap.

“You better be sharing that, Romanoff,” you tease, your eyes fixed on the screen.

Natasha scoffs before tossing a piece of popcorn at you.

“Of course, I will.”

Just as you're about to turn your head to look at her and confirm her honesty, she swiftly shoves a cushion pillow to the side of your face, blocking your view.

After a few seconds, she releases it, fluffing the cushion casually before leaning her head against your shoulder and tossing another piece of popcorn into her mouth.

You chuckle at her antics, amused by her playful behavior, before returning your attention to the screen.

A few days later, you find yourself standing on the outskirts of the wedding area, observing as servers and workers hustle to complete the finishing touches.

A sad, bittersweet expression tugs at your lips as you recognize familiar details chosen by your ex, mingled with hints of a stranger’s preferences in the decorations.

To be honest, you don’t intend to stay for the wedding. You're just here to confirm something for yourself.

Taking a deep breath, you close your eyes, conjuring your ex’s face in your mind, and whisper to yourself. 

“I’m in love with her…”

Opening your eyes, you exhale slowly, a content smile on your lips as you notice the red aura surrounding your skin. It's a relief to be able to find closure regarding your feelings for your ex.

“You know, I don’t need powers to know you were lying,” a voice remarks from behind.

Startled, you turn to find Natasha approaching.

She stops beside you, her gaze fixed at the scene ahead as she accuses, “Saying that you weren’t going to come here.”

You look at her briefly before returning your attention to the field.

“I got curious about something,” you admit. “Figured that this was one way to confirm it.”

Excited and happy chatter fills the air as your ex appears, surrounded by friends and family.

Suddenly, thoughts of what-ifs from the other night resurface, prompting you to ask out loud unconsciously before you can stop yourself.

“Do you think I should’ve just pretended that she was telling the truth at that time — when she said she loved me?” you ask Natasha. “Maybe it might’ve worked out between us if I just kept my mouth shut.”

There’s a beat of silence before Natasha finally responds, her tone tinged with wistfulness.

“From my experience,” she begins, “I can tell you that living a lie would not make you happy…no matter how much you wish for it to be true.”

You chuckle lightly, “You’re probably right.”

“Of course I am,” Natasha says confidently.

A comfortable silence falls between you as you both observe the preparations from a distance.

“She is a fool for letting you go, though,” Natasha suddenly adds, her tone casual.

You laugh softly, gently chiding her, “You can’t call the bride that on her wedding day.”

“Alright then,” Natasha concedes, turning to you. “You’re an even bigger fool for coming here by yourself.”

She returns her gaze to the field, muttering under her breath with a hint of irritation, “…still visiting the one who broke your heart.”

Amused, you tilt your head to catch her eyes, chuckling at her words, as you tease, “You know, it almost sounds like you’re jealous.”

When Natasha doesn’t respond or look at you, you raise a brow in surprise and poke her side. 

“Wait, seriously, are you jealous?”

She swats your hand away.

“Stop that,” Natasha reprimands, before gritting out, “I’m not jealous!”

A small grin forms on your face as you notice the red aura appear, causing Natasha to roll her eyes and walk away.

“I’m leaving,” she declares firmly.

“Aww, come on, Natasha,” you call as you trail behind her.

Glancing back at you and seeing your pleased expression, she points at you in warning.

“That smile better be off your face by the time I pull up, or else you’re walking home,” she states before continuing on her way.

Watching her go with a fond smile, you find yourself softly repeating the words.

“I’m in love with her.”

Looking down, your smile widens when you don’t see the red aura appear, confirming what you already knew about your feelings for the red-haired spy.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

As you sit in your office at the Avenger compound, you feel a sense of fatigue wash over you at your busy schedule of back-to-back interviews.

Across from you, the final candidate squirms in her seat, clearly nervous under your scrutinizing gaze. 

A chill sweeps through the room, courtesy of the cold blast of air from the AC, and you can't help but regret your decision to have it set so cold, a choice originally intended to maintain an intimidating atmosphere during interviews. 

With a sigh, you reluctantly pull your hands from the cozy warmth of your hoodie pocket and turn to the next page of questions.

"Let's talk about handling confidential information," you begin, your voice cutting through the tension in the room. "Can you share a time when you had to ensure the secure handling of sensitive data?"

The candidate responds with some slight hesitation, but you sense it’s more from her nerves than any dishonesty, so you continue, moving on to the remaining questions.

Luckily, the rest of the interview goes by quickly and smoothly with her answering the other questions without any problems.

However, now comes the final question of the interview.

“Among the Avengers, who do you consider to be the hottest?”

Clearly caught off-guard, she stumbles over her words, “W-what?” 

Maintaining your serious demeanor, you repeat the question.

“Who do you believe is the hottest Avenger?”

After a moment's pause, she softly answers, “Black Widow..."

Setting your clipboard down, you extend your hand.

"Thank you for coming. It was nice meeting you," you say, signaling the end of the interview.

As she thanks you and leaves, you flip to the last paper on your clipboard, revealing a sheet with tick marks beside the names of your Avenger friends.

With an amused smile, you add another mark at the end of Natasha’s already leading line.

“I don’t think that last question was approved by Steve,” a voice accuses from the doorway.

Glancing up, you see Natasha leaning against the frame, her arms folded.

You shrug in response, “Makes it more interesting though.”

Natasha hums curiously before moving to your side, perching on the edge of your desk. Her narrowed eyes fix on you.

“Is that my hoodie?” she asks in suspicion as she tugs at your sleeve.

“Maybe,” you reply, hastily pulling the hood over your head to conceal your guilty eyes.

Natasha had left the piece of clothing at your place after her last visit, and given the chilly room, borrowing it seemed harmless enough.

“Don’t you have a briefing to get to?” you deflect, attempting to change the subject.

Natasha huffs knowingly before responding, "I had some spare time, so I came to bother you."

"I’m honored," you quip sarcastically, though inwardly your heart warmed at the fact that she thought of you.

Natasha chuckles lightly, then gestures towards your clipboard.

"Ask me some questions," she prompts, her tone playful yet eager.

Deciding to indulge her, you reach for your clipboard and adopt a serious demeanor.

“Name?” you begin.

Natasha shoots you a deadpan look, prompting you to show her the document with the question written on it.

“If they lie about their name, then that’s a red flag already,” you defend, giving her a pointed look.

“Natalie,” you mock.

Natasha chuckles, shaking her head at the memory before extending her hand.

“It’s actually Natasha,” she corrects, playing along.

Skipping past the other general questions, you delve into more targeted inquiries related to threat assessment.

“Have you ever been associated with any extremist or radical groups or organizations?” you ask.

“If you consider working undercover to gain intel on them, then yes,” Natasha responds without hesitation.

“Have you ever participated or been involved in any violent behavior where someone was hurt?”

This one makes her pause for a moment before she finally admits softly, "…yes."

As the questioning continues, Natasha's playful demeanor gradually fades, replaced by a rueful tone.

By the time you reach the final question, she places her hand on your clipboard, gently setting it down on the desk.

"Maybe these questions aren’t meant for people like me," she says sadly, her tone filled with regret.

Observing her disappointed expression, you scoot closer and rest your hand on hers to draw her attention.

“Do you still want to hear my final assessment?” you ask gently.

After a contemplative pause, Natasha nods, curiosity evident in her eyes as she gestures for you to continue.

“Well, based on your answers,” you say with a dramatic pause, flipping through the papers before shaking your head firmly.

“Absolutely not. Extremely dangerous. Definitely a high-risk candidate.”

Natasha huffs in disbelief at your teasing and gives you a playful push. As your laughter subsides, you soften your tone, meeting her gaze sincerely.

“But…I’d trust you,” you admit genuinely.

Natasha's eyes widen slightly before she averts her gaze, clearing her throat. Her fingers toy with the clipboard, flipping to the last page and seeing the score sheet, before chuckling in amusement.

Turning back to you, she tilts her head with a raised brow.

“I don’t get the special question?” she asks.

You take the clipboard from her, offering a knowing look as you begin to organize the documents on your desk.

“I think we both already know your answer to that question,” you reply.

“Then ask me another,” Natasha insists.

Her request makes you pause as you ponder what to ask. Only one thing comes to mind, the question you’ve been hesitating to ask her for a long time.

Meeting her expectant gaze, you find yourself wanting to know the answer, despite the fear in your mind at the possibility of causing another big change in your life again.

Summoning your courage, you face her directly.

“Would you…,” you start, faltering momentarily before gathering yourself with a deep breath.

“...would you say ‘yes’ if I asked you out on a date tonight?”

There's a moment of silence, and just as you consider retracting the question, Natasha reaches out and adjusts the hood atop your head.

Perplexed by her action, you watch her suspiciously. Then, in one swift motion, she pulls the hood down over your eyes, obscuring your vision.

“No,” her voice responds to your question.

Hearing her stand, you quickly remove the hood to see Natasha already making her way out of the door, but before she disappears from your view, you catch the red aura surrounding her slowly fading away.

As an excited smile spreads across your face at the revelation of her true answer, your phone on the desk pings with a new message. Glancing at the screen, you see a text from Natasha.

I’ll pick you up tonight. 

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

a/n: Thank you for reading! I know I said I was going to take a little break, but I had some time so I ended up finishing this and decided to post it now instead of later.

[here-lies-they-ran-outta-luck]

Prettiest Witch at Hogwarts (Theodore Nott x fem!reader)

Warnings: small italian!thoe, friends to lovers, comfort, angst, cussing, flirting, bad writing

a/n- this was not a request, but I did have a really good time writing it! I love this fic so much for no reason

word count- 847

“You, my dear, are the prettiest girl I have ever met,” Pansy said, dropping her voice an octave, reenacting what a boy had done to you today in an attempt to woo you. Her hand brushing your cheek the same way the boy had attempted to do makes you burst out in a loud laughter, causing the rest of the group to follow along.

“The poor bloke! Did he seriously think that would work?” Mattheo cackles, wiping a tear from his eye.

“I swear, I can never get a break! You four are the only boys that don’t chase after me!” You sigh, leaning back into the cushion of the couch, unbeknownst to you Pansy sends Theo a small smirk with raised eyebrows. Pansy was the only person that knew about your mild crush on Theodore Nott, your best friend. Pansy and Mattheo both knew that Theo has been in love with you for years. To everyone though, it was obvious that the lingering glances meant more than friends to the both of you.

The group decided to spend the rest of the night making fun of all of the boys that have tried to get with you since your growth spurt in 4th year.

“You’re gonna let me take you out to Hogsmeade, right?” Adriand Pucy, a boy you have rejected over and over since day one, asks you, leaning up against the exit of the Slytherin common room.

“Haven’t I told you no already today?” You reply, stopping and looking up at him with disgust present on your face.

“I know you don’t have a date, so why don’t you just give me a chance, let me take you out,” The boy says, pushing off of the wall in what was supposed to look attractive, ultimately failing in the end though.

“Who told you she doesn’t have a date? Come on bella, lets go,” Theo says, slinging his arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer into him, engulfing you in the smell of his expensive-smelling cologne.

“Out of all the boys she could choose you really think she’d pick you? You wouldn’t even be on her top ten,” Pucy says, glaring at the taller boy.

“Merlin Pucy, have some self respect! If you ever thought you had a chance with me you certainly have less of one than before,” you say, giving him the dirtiest look you could possibly muster, and pulling Theo away from him and towards your dorm.

You knew Theo almost better than you knew yourself. Even though Theo was the most handsome boy in the school and had his fair share of women, you knew that the mean words Pucy had said would get to him atelast a little bit. He was a Slytherin, but deep down he was still the sensitive boy you’d known for years.

“Are you alright, Theo?” You ask, sitting on your bed and scooting over so he could have room.

“I should be the one asking you that,” He replied with a sad smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“You know that Pucy is just an asshole right? You would definitely be in at least my top 3,” You say after a couple of seconds, attempting to lighten the mood and make him feel better. 

“You don’t have to lie to make me feel better,” He says, looking at you with his sad blue eyes.

“Theo, I’m not lying,” You answer, scooting towards him to show your sincereness.

“Did one of them tell you?” He says, hurt filling his eyes and his body language rigid.

“Did who tell me what?” You ask, putting a hand on his back to comfort him, his posture relaxing a little.

Theo looks up at you, his eyes softening a little, “You’re so amazing,” He says softly after a couple of seconds of looking at you.

“Oh come on Theo,” You say, blushing slightly, looking up at him through your eyelashes.

“It’s true. You’re so beautiful,” He says, putting some hair behind your ear, and giving you a smile, showing you his beautifully crooked teeth.

“And you are a flirt. To think you’d never chase after me,” You say, giving him the same smile.

“Would I- um, would I really be in the top three guys?” He asks, looking at you with a serious expression.

“I would date you before I even gave another guy even a look,” You reply, giving him a soft look.

“Are you sure about that though? You know I’m kind of a mess up,” He says, looking away from you.

“It means more to me that you think that I’m amazing and beautiful. I don’t think I would even be able to explain to you how it makes me feel when you call me by your stupid Italian nicknames,” You reply, waiting for an answer. You don’t wait long and you don’t get a verbal response. Theo pulls you in and gives you a soft kiss on your lips. It’s not how he kisses girls at parties, it’s soft and full of love and adoration.

[abbyromanoff]

Heyyy there would you mind writing wanda x femreader where r dreams of wanda cheating on us with vision so when r wokes up she's mad and grumpy and wanda doesn't know why, now she's sad and confused. Fluff at the end though

VISIONS

PAIRINGS: Wanda Maximoff x reader

WORD COUNT: 862

WARNINGS: allusions to smut, talks of cheating, jealousy, anxiety, groping, small angst, fluff, think that’s all :)

NO ONE IS PERMITTED TO STEAL, COPY, OR REBLOG MY WORK AS THEIR OWN!!

“Baby? Can you please stop ignoring me?” Wanda asked with a hand on your shoulder. You shook it off, rolling your eyes as you threw the blankets further over your body. She sighed, trying to leave a kiss to your exposed skin until you shrugged her off once again.

She didn’t know why you seemed so upset, but she assumed from previous experiences that you simply were having a bad morning. It could be a dream, it could be your period, it could just be an irritating mood. In reality, it was the sight you saw in your deep sleep. It woke you with a sudden cry, your head tossing to the side to instantly try and spot the woman. In the dream, you had just walked in on the pair sharing an intimate moment that was meant for only you and Wanda. The witch tried to explain herself, but you woke up before you could make your final decision.

When Wanda woke, she tried giving you a morning peck on the lips, but you denied. She was confused but let it slide, until you ignored her clear request for sex. Your body was bare, only holding layers of hickeys that you usually would’ve admired, yet she still was - which only seemed to anger you further.

She gave up after nearly half an hour of trying to persuade you into talking and grabbed her book, placing her reading glasses over her eyes and sitting silently. You’d mumble quiet annoyances, but refused to form a normal sentence.

“Can you at least tell me why you’re so mad at me?” No response was given besides a huff. “Please, my love? C’mon, don’t make Mommy sad.” She teased, sensing from your sudden stillness that she hit a nerve. You sucked in a breath, removing the covers as you walked towards the bathroom. She groaned, copying your actions with a shiver as the cold air hit her.

“What are you doing?” You stood under the warm water, letting your hair soak as your body erupted with goosebumps. She tore off her shirt, only stopping when your voice was heard.

“So that’s the first thing you’re going to say to me?” Your eyes fell to her naked chest as you licked your lips, forcing yourself to turn away from the trap.

“What? Can I not take a shower with my partner?” She stepped behind you, venturing her hands to your waist as she rested her chin on your shoulder. She kissed the skin softly, leaving hints of her scent behind as you shuddered.

“This…this isn’t fair, Wanda, I’m supposed to be mad at you.” She let her lips linger, trailing her hands up and down, squeezing your breasts before one traveled to your lower region.

“And why is that?” A frown took over your face, and you lowered your gaze. She paused, turning you around so you would face her. You refused to meet her eyes until it was forced out of you, her finger below your chin guiding you to fit her needs.

“Can you please tell me what I did so I can apologize? I’d really appreciate it, love.”

“It’s stupid,”

“It’s not stupid if it’s upsetting you.” She frowned, stroking your cheek softly as she pulled you in, leaving a peck to the skin before trailing to your plump lips. She hummed against you, allowing herself to soak in the warmth of the embrace you ridded her from.

“I had a dream,” You bit your lip, groaning as she pressed on. She rubbed your arms soothingly, furrowing her brows as she waited for your voice to rise once again.

“And in that dream, I caught you…sleeping with…Vision.” She chuckled lightly, causing your frown to grow.

“Oh, love, how could I ever do that to you? Look, you didn’t hear it from me, but I know a girl with the most beautiful, and most wonderful partner. She loves them with all her heart, and she would never, ever even consider breaking their own sweet little heart.” She smiled, brushing her fingers through your hair when red threatened to cover your skin.

“But,”

“Shh, and I don’t want you to think any different, alright? I love you, I love you so much and that will never change.” She assured, and you grinned to yourself, muttering a small statement that she asked for you to repeat.

“Especially not for a red robot?”

“Especially not for a red robot.” She smiled, pecking your forehead slightly and cradling you with her arms. The soft skin sent a sigh of gratitude your way, and you cuddled closer into the woman.

“I love you so much, Wanda. I’m sorry for being mean, I know you’d never do that.” She hummed, trailing her hand lower once again. It fell upon your bare ass, her palm squeezing with a giggle.

“So soft,”

“Wanda! You pervert!” She shook her head, nuzzling her nose in your neck as she continued to poke at the area. You bit your lip, leaning into her as instinct.

“Now, why don’t you let me make it up to you and show you just how much I love you?”

[starstruckmiraclekitty]

hi!! i’m a big wuss and cry at least twice a week. could i possibly request a ghost x reader where reader is new to the task force and everyone but ghost has warmed up to them and really enjoys their bubbly presence? ghost says something kinda mean, reader cries, and then goes quiet for a few days/a week. everyone notices the change in their personality and gets confused until ghost makes it right <3

Thanks for this request!!🙃🩷 same same tho.

We All Have Our Demons

Simon Riley x Reader

Warnings: mentions of crying, swearing, angst w happy ending

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You were recently just introduced to the 141 as the newest member. Your sniper skills were top tier, and Price had jumped at the opportunity to make you a part of his team.

The boys on the team had instantly taken a liking to you. You were a welcome addition to the team, and your presence alone helped shift the mood of the team tremendously.

Everyone on the team had been incredibly welcoming to you, all except Ghost. He'd been standoffish since you'd arrived, only giving you a nod when you'd introduced yourself. You had originally just chalked it up to him being weary if he could trust you. Which you more than understood, so while you kept your distance, you still made it a point to be nice to him.

He was always very curt and professional, never letting you hold a conversation with him, but that did not stop you from trying.

You'd always offer to help with various tasks, picked up coffee for him just the way he liked, and on multiple occasions had tried striking up conversations with him, to no avail.

One night, you'd decided you were going to try and talk with him. You weren't used to someone being so standoffish toward you, and wanted to know what you could've done wrong.

Making your way into the weapons rooms, you popped your head in to address your superior.

"Lieutenant?" You approached him with a wide smile.

He regarded you with clear disinterest and mumbled out a "What is it, Sargeant."

"I just wanted to check in with you, sir. I was wondering if perhaps.. I'd done something wrong?" Your hands started to grow sweaty, and you nervously rubbed them on your thighs.

He turned back to his weapon. "Wrong?"

"You just.. seem to not like me, and I'm not sure what I could've done to offend you."

"Like you? It's not my job to like you, and this isn't the place for annoying shit such as friendships. If that's what you're looking for, perhaps you should've looked to do any other field than this one, Y/N." Ghost sputtered, his eyes narrowing at you as he slammed his gun down in frustration.

Your mouth parted slightly, shock washing over you at his words. You knew he was a tough shell to crack, but you'd never thought he'd be so outwardly mean.

"Of course, sir. Sorry to bother you." You muttered meekly, turning to walk to the door. You blinked away tears, and aggressively wiped them from your eyes, not wanting anyone to see you cry.

~

For the next few days, you'd been rather quiet and kept to yourself. The boys would constantly come up and ask you to join them at the pub or for spar sessions, but you'd always politely decline.

Ghosts words had sunk deep, creating a wound you weren't sure how to heal. Were you really that annoying? Did everyone on base feel that way about you? The words ate and ate at you, and you'd ultimately decided to keep to yourself so as not to bother anyone around you. Perhaps Ghost was right. You weren't here to make friends.

The boys grew concerned, your normally bubbly attitude was gone, and they were lucky if they could even get a few words out of you.

"Anybody know what's going on with Y/N? They have been unusually quiet lately, and I'm worried about them." Soap had asked, sitting down to eat with Gaz and Ghost.

"I've tried talking to them a few times but can barely hold a conversation. You didn't hear it from me, but it was rumored that they left the weapons room crying Friday night." Gaz spoke, a sad smile forming on his lips.

Ghosts ears perked up at this information. You were with him in the weapons room Friday night. You left crying? Why would you have left- Oh. A wave of guilt came washing over him as he realized what had you so upset.

He truly didn't mean to make you upset. He was so used to keeping himself protected. He was afraid to let anyone else in. Then you came in with your bubbly attitude, and regardless of how much he tried to push you away, you still showed interest in him. He was so scared to open himself up to you, this ray of sunshine, and get himself hurt. He couldn't take more hurt in his life.

Shaking his head of his thoughts, he went to go and find you.

~

You were sitting in the courtyard watching the night sky. Your mind was racing with negative thoughts that you couldn't seem to push away. Deciding to turn in early for the night, you moved to stand when you heard a voice call your name. You turned around and were met face to face with Ghost.

"Oh, Lieutenant. Didn't know you were out here. Don't mind me, I was just leaving." You nervously tucked a strand of hair behind your ear and made for the entrance.

"Wait." Ghosts voice halted your movements. "I uh, I wanted to talk."

You turned to him, tucking your bottom lip in between your teeth, and nodded your head slowly.

Ghost looked to the ground for a moment before speaking. "I'm.. not exactly a guy known for extending warm welcomes."

You swallowed thickly, expecting him to continue, but he didn't.

"It's alright, sir. I understand." You said softly.

Ghost lifted his eyes from the grass to meet your warm ones. He felt his heart palpitate from the way you were looking at him. You'd looked so innocent to him.

"No. It's not. I don't give my trust out easily, not to anyone. But that's no excuse to treat you as I did." You could tell Simon was doing his best to apologize, in his own way.

"We all have our demons, sir. I can't fault you for protecting yourself and the team. But I assure you I have nothing but good intentions." You assured him, not breaking eye contact.

"I know." He nodded, his eyes shifting back to the ground beneath him. There was something about the way you looked at him. It made him feel things he'd never felt before. You were such a warm person, and he didn't know how to take you.

"Well, if that's all, I'll leave you to your night, Ghost." You turned to make your way out again, stopping when you heard him speak once more.

"Simon."

"Sorry?"

"My name, it's Simon." He lifted his eyes to yours, and held your gaze.

Your eyes lit up from the small bit of information he'd given you. It wasn't much, but it was a sign he was willing to try opening up to you.

"It's nice to meet you, Simon." You giggled, a vibrant smile covering your face.

He nodded, thankful his mask was covering the light pink tint that was forming on his cheeks.

"Theres... there's a coffee shop up the road. Usually, go to it every now and then. Good coffee there." He fumbled out, heart stammering in his chest. "Be my treat. It's the least I can do for being an arse."

"I would love that, Simon." You were practically beaming. You couldn't stop saying his name, and he sure wasn't complaining. He quite liked the way it sounded coming from your lips.

He held out his arm to you, and you gladly linked your arm in his. "Shall we?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: I hope you enjoyed it! Wasn't too proud of this one, tbh I rewrote it quite a few times.

Was kind of thinking of making this a 2 parter?

[toxicanonymity]

Midnight Snack.

3.4k slasher!Joel x f!reader

slasher Joel master list | spotify slaylist SUMMARY: Joel has dinner at his Mom’s house, then pays you a visit. A/N: Shoutout to @iamasaddie for the master list mood board magnets, @gasolinerainbowpuddles for the.edit, fridge magnet anon ask, @thesummerpetrichor , anyone I'm forgetting?  WARNINGS: I8+ dubcon unsafe p in v, creampie, light somnophilia, choking, degradation, home intrusion, manual restraint, spitting, toxic parental issues, angst/insecurity, changes POV, NO Y/N.  

“What are you doing here?” you ask. .He doesn’t answer, just breathes heavily. He’s scowling down at you with a fine mist of perspiration along his hairline. . . Over a long moment of silence, a charge passes between your eyes and his.  He tilts his head, wets his lips, and looks at your mouth. You reach for the back of his neck and feel the cold sweat under your palm. . .

============================

midnight snack

============================

“I said I’m good, Ma,” Joel grumbles as his mom puts another heaping spatula of casserole on his plate anyway. He sighs and pushes it around with his fork. 

“What’s got ya down, hun?”  

“Nothin’.”

“It’s a girl, ain’t it?” She smiles. “Knew it. Last time you were here, ya had that glow," she nods, then registers his sullen face again.  "It's okay, hun. Whatever it is, you'll work it out.". 

He hasn't stopped thinking about you since he was there. When he drives, when he showers, when he goes to bed, when he jacks off—he sees the desire in your eyes when you’re pinned against the counter. He sees your dripping hole stretched around his fist. He thinks about you every time he uses his wrench. Still smells like your filthy cunt. 

"Tell me 'bout her,” his mom urges. 

“Can't,” Joel mumbles. “Don’t got a girl.” 

His mom looks at him knowingly. She always sees right through him. He doesn’t like how close they are, but in a way, she’s his only friend.  He fails to suppress a little smile, then looks down shyly at his plate and finally takes a bite.  

She asks,  “How’d ya meet?” 

Joel gives her a half-serious cautionary look and keeps chewing. 

“Work?” his mom prods. 

Joel swallows, nods, and takes a sip of milk. “Gave'r a ride.” Two rides, really. Although you took the second one all on your own. And damn, it was good. He shifts in his seat. 

“Well, great,” his mom lights up. “When ya gonna see her again?” She dabs her mouth with a cloth napkin and stands up. 

“I dunno, Ma. . .She’s too good for me.”

She huffs, adjusts her glasses, then walks over. She playfully whips him on the shoulder with the fabric napkin, then puts her finger in his face. “Don’t you ever say that. No one’s too good for my boy.” She takes his glass to the kitchen and pours him some more milk, then sits back down at the table. 

“already left me once,” Joel grumbles.

His Mom’s face falls, then sours.  

“Then she’s not worth your time." She scoffs. Or anyone else’s." 

“She’s different, Ma," he mutters deadpan, then quieter, he adds, "Sometimes I think she likes me," with the slightest lift of his brow.  

Mrs. Miller's eyebrows shoot all the way up. "Well, she should!"

"'mixed signals." He’s saying too much, but he can’t stop. It’s not like he has anyone else to talk to.

"Bring'er for dinner," she suggests.

"Ain't like that," he sulks. "We don't-" He cuts himself off and sighs, sitting back in his chair. He puts his napkin on his plate. "Shouldn't'a mentioned it," he mumbles. 

His mom reaches across the table for his hand, and he gives it to her.  He looks at the delicate, paper-thin skin covering the veins on her hand. It makes him sad. He wants to bring a girl home. He wants to make his Mom happy. He doesn't come by enough.  She must be so lonely.  And he's the one who. . .no, his father deserved it, he reminds himself for the millionth time in his life. He didn’t love them, his mom said. Resentment begins to overtake his guilt. He doesn’t want to feel sorry for her. He steels himself and decides to feel nothing. 

"Look at me, Joel."  She looks him in the eye. "You're not gonna get a wife like this, honey." Joel swallows and looks down. She continues, "Don't be a quitter. She's yours if you want her." Don’t be a quitter. 

The buzzer for the laundry goes off. Mrs. Miller starts to head to the laundry room, but Joel stops her. "Feel like a loser when ya do my laundry." 

She shakes her head in disapproval and starts clearing the table instead. "My son. . .” she picks up both their plates. ". . .Is not a loser." 

Joel finishes his laundry, watches some tv with her while she knits, then pulls himself away.  His Mom sends him on his way with an old tupperware of casserole. "Go get her," she tells him with a wink.

—-

He wants to make a move.  He wants to fuck you again, but he isn’t sure how.  How do people do it? He doesn't know how to ask you out, or what you'd do together. Every time he thinks about it, he feels stupid, but he does wanna see you.  He wants to be inside you. He wants to make you purr, little sex kitten. 

At this hour, you’re probably out whoring, but he might as well drive by while he’s close.  All your lights are off, but your car is there. Hmm. He can't bring himself to go home. Don’t be a quitter.  He sits in his car at the end of your street. Last time he came over, it went pretty well. You wanted him to fuck you, and he did.  You wanted more, and he gave you more. Then he left before you could leave him. 

He feels like you’re special, but he really only knows a few things about you. Most importantly, you like the danger, you want the thrill, you want his dick, and you sure can take a cock. 

The only thing he can think to do is give you more of what he knows you want. Even if you're asleep, you'll be purring for it as soon as he drags you out of bed and pins you on the floor.  He pictures a knife at your throat. Not a big one, just his switchblade. 

He gets out of his car and adjusts his balls, spreading his feet for a moment. Then he starts walking to your house.  After a few seconds, he goes back to his car for the casserole. Maybe you'll have a midnight snack after he stuffs you full of his cock. He rolls his eyes at himself. That’s stupid. 

—-

There's a lamp with a dying bulb barely flickering on your back patio with a couple of moths fluttering wildly around it. Joel looks into your dark kitchen and scowls at his reflection in the glass. He holds the Tupperware under his elbow and picks the lock with ease. After stepping into your kitchen, he quietly slides the door shut behind him. His boots thud stickily as he takes his first steps on the linoleum. Do you ever mop? He holds his switchblade open in the air.  He’s headed toward the hall where he expects your bedroom is.  He inches through the kitchen--between the counter on his left and the stove on his right, until he gets to your fridge.  

The surface of the fridge is peppered with magnets--souvenirs, letters of the alphabet, bottle openers. It's silly. But a piece of paper catches his eye and he stops dead in his tracks.  It's pinned to the fridge by a "J," and an "X" and an "O." He blinks and squints, but his eyes don't deceive him. It's his drawing of you, legs spread wide open. His chest flutters looking at his sketch of your cunt hung proudly on your fridge. His dick twitches, and he inhales sharply. His mouth is watering.  He dips the tip of his thick pinky between his lips and dribbles a string of saliva on the paper, right between your legs. He tilts his head and admires the way your graphite cunt glistens.

You want him. You really want him. His body relaxes. He closes and pockets his switchblade.  He opens the fridge as quietly as possible and puts the casserole on the top shelf, pausing to survey the scant contents. Mostly condiments. Takeout containers. Beer. Expired orange juice. He closes the fridge. 

The microwave is hanging down from a cabinet to his left. He steps in front of it and bends his knees enough to push back his hair in the reflection. He stands up again, squares his shoulders, then prowls in silence to your bedroom. 

---

The door is open. Of course it is. You want him.  His boots are quieter on your carpet.  He approaches the foot of your bed but doesn't get closer. You're occupying less than half the bed.  You're just as pretty in your sleep. All bundled up. He knew that already. He gets harder, recalling the time he woke you up with his cock inside you. God, you're sexy. How'd he get so lucky that a hot little slut like you wants him so bad?

He goes to the other side of your bed. His side. There’s a chair full of dirty clothes. He sits down on them and takes off his boots.  He stands up again and lowers the zipper of his jumpsuit, pressing down on his bulge to get the zipper over it without snagging. Then he peels the sleeves off and brings it down over his ass and meaty thighs. He lets it pool at his feet and steps out of it. 

He's left wearing a blue soft wash t-shirt, lighter blue striped boxers, and white socks with holes. He takes those socks off too. He approaches your bed, lifts the covers with care, and sees what you're wearing.  You're wearing the shirt–he recognizes its condition.  God damn, you really do want him.  

Joel gradually lets his weight onto your mattress as he slips under the covers. His heart races and his forehead is damp.  His cock is so hard just from being close to you. He lies there perfectly still on his side for a moment, watching your back as you breathe. Then he scoots forward, inch by inch, until his leg hair brushes your bare legs and you jerk in your sleep. 

"Shhh. It's just me," he whispers as he wraps his hulking arm over you.  He spoons you and lightly presses his hard cock against your ass. You moan in your sleep and push back, then he moans. 

You jerk in your sleep again, but this time you don't relax. You startle awake.  You gasp and whimper. Your limbs thrash, and his arm tightens around you. You squeal, and his massive hand covers your mouth.   He wasn't expecting your feisty side, kitten. He came to give you what you want. 

Why don’t you want him anymore?

-----you-----

Pure instinct kicks in when you wake up with someone in your bed. Your heart is pounding, you thrash and  kick with all your might trying to get away. He covers your mouth and repeats “It’s me, sweetheart. God damn.” He sounds confused and irritated at your reaction. His voice is familiar, but it takes you a moment to place it, despite thinking about him all the time in waking life.  It's like your subconscious hasn't caught up with reality, and can you blame it? 

"Would you stop? Damn," he pants, getting more irritated as you continue to struggle and his arm tightens more, compressing your chest.  What did he expect breaking into your house and getting into your bed?

You feel his hard dick press against your loose sleep shorts and get butterflies in your core, even as you continue struggling. He backs up for a moment and the pull of his arm forces you onto your back.  He pins you with his left forearm on your chest and aggressively yanks down your shorts then kicks them all the way off before getting between your legs. His hard cock lays against your clit, separated only by his boxers, and you're throbbing. Your efforts to free yourself get weaker and weaker until you’re just lying there, staring up at him, your chest getting sore under his arm. 

“What are you doing here?” you ask. He doesn’t answer, just breathes heavily. 

He’s scowling down at you with a fine mist of perspiration along his hairline. He presses his cock against your mound again. Over a long moment of silence, an electric charge passes between your eyes and his.  He slightly tilts his head and looks at your mouth. You reach for the back of his neck and feel the cold sweat under your palm as you pull him down, drawing his face to yours. 

Your mouths meet but don't seal, and you find your lips reaching for his, wanting something to hold, something to suck–but he devours you without granting you any bit of control. You whimper as he kisses you hungrily, hard cock throbbing against your aching clit. He kisses you sloppily, biting your lower lip, dragging his tongue across it to the corner where he pauses and presses his teeth into your cheek and grunts with a slow thrust against you. Then he drags his lips and tongue down your jaw as you tilt your chin up.

He latches onto your neck with an "mm" and his hips begin to grind his thick erection against you at a slow rhythm. He grunts and his breath is humid with a moan against your neck before he latches onto it again. You feel the delicate skin bruising under his mouth while your pussy is gushing wet. You tilt your hips and wrap a leg around him. He groans at your slick, throbbing cunt against his cock. 

He murmurs into your neck, “God damn, you’re a slut for my cock,” then chuckles. “Aren’t ya, kitten?”

He lifts his pelvis off you to massage your cunt aggressively with his hand. You whine and he gives a low whistle.  Then he urgently takes his boxers down and you help him, curling a toe into the waistband once his boxers get down to his thighs.  You drag your foot down between his legs to his feet, taking his boxers with you. . He kicks them off the rest of the way. Before he lays his hips back into you, you reach for his balls, longing to feel the heft of them. It sends a bolt of desire through you. Fuck. 

"What's wrong with you?" You ask, but you're really asking yourself.  You’re asking yourself why you've got this sicko in your bed, someone unhinged enough to break into your house not once but twice and all you want is his cock. 

"Me?" He asks. "the fuck is wrong with you?" He wraps a hand around your throat. “Playin’ games with me,” he growls bitterly. “Ya want it, ya don't, ya want it–” you cough under his grip as he reads your eyes, then he whispers, "want it" with a small nod, and takes his hand away.

He notches his tip at your entrance then breathes, "don't ya?--uggghh" As he shoves into you. “Want it, you’ll get it,” he pants as his cock parts your walls. His cock spreads you wide open as he gives you his full length, and you gasp as he bottoms out. He withdraws a few inches and hangs his head to watch you swallow him back up.  

"God damn," he murmurs.  "Forgot how tight ya were before."  Your clit twitches at the thought of the wrench. 

Then his eyes come to your chest and the ripped shirt he gave you. He moans at the sight of your nipple poking through one of the slashes and he covers it with his mouth as he fucks you.  His wide tongue drags under your nipple and wets the curled edges of the slash in the shirt before his lips seal around your nipple.  He brings his hips back and pushes into you again, sucking and moaning into your tit. Your eyes fixate on his triceps nearly bursting out of his sleeves and that’s the first time it hits you that he was already in sleepwear. He undressed and got in bed with you. God, he’s weird. And you. You're. . . You don't know, but your hands are gliding on their own over his muscular back, feeling him flex as he pounds you. 

You find your fingers curling under the bottom hem of his shirt and he reaches one hand behind his back to help you remove it. You can't see much, but when the angle shifts, the moonlight catches enough to tell you his body has really been through it. When his head dips to your neck again you watch his hulking back muscles and see lines whiter than his skin. At least a dozen, overlapping lashes. You run your hand over it and the slight change in texture makes you wince with the confirmation. No telling how old they are. 

On his front, there’s a short straight line near his shoulder and a longer, thinner one on his side, curving around near his v muscle. Your thumb drifts to that one. Joel shivers at the touch, then slams his hips into you harder. You quickly abandon it, sliding your hand up his side, then to his pec. A wicked smile spreads across half his face as your hand runs across his chest. "Y'ain't scared, are ya?" He asks, breathing heavily with his cock dragging heavily in your dripping wet cunt. 

“No.” You thumb his nipple. 

He lowers himself and lets the weight of his middle onto you with a sigh, still railing his length into you. You wrap both legs around him, and he breathes "yeah, mmmgg baby, yeah" as he fucks you deeper. 

Your nipples go fully erect. "Fuck," he breathes when he feels them.  He grinds against your clit as he fucks you, and you feel a climax looming. The thought crosses your mind whether he's going to kill you one of these days and your chest erupts in goosebumps. Your face feels cold. 

As though reading your mind, he says, “don’t whore around on me” He reads your eyes then adds, "n' you'll be fine," with a small nod, a brief smile, and harsh thrust. 

You can't help but crack a smile at the absurdity of it.  The implied monogamy–on your side, at least. When he registers your amusement, his smile fades into a scowl and his eyes turn black. He grabs your jaw, squeezes it open, and spits in your mouth.  He grabs your hand off his chest and pins both your wrists harshly above you, holding them there with one massive hand as he fucks you harder, angrier. He looks down where your bodies meet, and he watches you take his cock again, breathing heavily, sighing and moaning.

Eventually his sour mood subsides, replaced by renewed marvel at your body. "Sure can take a dick." Your hips lift into him, seeking more pressure for your clit, near the edge.  "Didn't bring my wrench." He glances around your bedroom.  You moan at the thought of him shoving something inside you. Your walls twitch, and the deep groan that leaves his mouth is too much.  You grab his ass and pull him deeper using your hands and your legs.

"Fuck, Joel," you breathe, and a new softness spreads across his face. 

His mouth falls open and he whispers, "yeah, sweetheart." You bite your lip and groan as a huge orgasm seizes you. "Yeah," he whispers and his eyes map your face as your walls clench around him. "oh fuck," he pants as you cum on his cock.  "Fuck," he breathes again, "fuckin love this cunt," he looks you in the eye.  "Ohhhh," he groans and begins to pulse inside you. He lowers his face to your neck again and you keep cumming, your body jerking into his. "Yeah, fuck," he manages into your neck as his balls empty into you. "Mmmmm" he thrusts slowly one more time like he can hardly stand the pleasure. 

He pushes himself back up to look at you and shudders as you squeeze him with an aftershock.

"'s'okay," he whispers and brushes your temple with his thumb. “ruin ya in the mornin'” In the morning? He wants to stay over? "God you're hot," he chuckles, cock still inside you. After a long moment of silence, he slides his cock out of you and you wince at the void. He lays on his stomach and drapes his arm over you. Your heart races and you can only hope he doesn’t feel it. You don’t want him in your bed right now. He's a novelty and he has to stay that way. Yeah it was fun, it’s been fun. It’s fun. You have his stupid drawing on your fridge, like a wild memory, a souvenir. But this. . . this is unsettling.  

You can't get attached to this sicko. But you know better than to try to make him leave.  He gets that look in his eye sometimes, and you just don’t know.  You take deep breaths and try to plot how you’ll get out of this in the morning. You can say you have to work. Yeah, you’ll say you have to work.  Eventually, you drift off under the weight of his arm. 

------

Thank you so much for reading and engaging! Love you guys.

@toxicfics for notifications.

[bigfatbimbo]

hi!!!! so i absolutely adore ur writing and was wondering if you could do angst. idk if this is up your alley or anything but if it’s not you don’t have to write it dw abt it!

so basically vox x reader

reader is really sad bc something happened and just isn’t in the mood for vox when he comes home from work. so vox being himself is annoying and instead of reader being mad or even like having a reaction (she’s usually a dom btw) she just like breaks down. ik this is a little random but i think it’s a pretty cute idea. have a nice day/night xxx

a/n — I had a TERRIBLE day so here’s this hurt/comfort fic to cope.

Vox’s shit-eating grin slowly faltered before completing dropping as he took in the situation. He barely even remembered what he’d said but, obviously, you didn’t take it well.

He felt a pang of guilt as he looked at you on the couch, crying into your hands. He knew you were in a bad mood when he got home. Of course, he didn’t know just how bad of a mood.

He saw your irritation right off that bat, he had asked what was wrong and you had brushed him off, snapping at him slightly. 

That’s about when Vox had decided to escalate the situation. Throwing annoying taunts at you, teasing you, begging for you to do something about it.

Of course he wanted a reaction, but more on the lines of you slamming him against a wall and putting him in his place. Under no circumstances did he think you would start crying.

And yet, here you were, crying into your hands on the couch, over some bratty remark Vox had made.

“I— uh, my dear, I didn’t mean anything—“ he tried to clarify, stretching his arm slightly out as if to touch you. He wasn’t sure what to do.

“Shut up, Vox,” you cried, “Don’t you know when to shut up?” Your words weren’t laced with venom or overly angry liked he’d expected. In fact, that would have been better.

In contrast to your usual nature, you just seemed overall sad. More than sad, Vox thought, totally spent. 

It was no secret he was terrible at comforting people, giving people false hope and manipulating them into doing something for him, sure. But this?

Well, convincing someone they feel better and actually making someone feel better were incredibly different. He was totally lost.

Your sobs got louder and more violent as moments passed. And yet, he stood there like an idiot, giving you a blank stare.

As if going through the motions, he recites a list in his mind. What to people usually do to help someone when they’re crying? Maybe, give them a hug?

He sighed and sat down next to you on the couch, cautiously putting his hand your shoulder and rubbing gently. 

Apologize next, Vox’s mental list demanded. 

“Look,” he started, awkwardly fiddling with his collar, “I didn’t mean to bother you by giving you all that shit. I knew you weren’t in the mood I just—“ 

He struggled with the next part, “I shouldn’t have done that. I’m sorry.”

The strange thing is, he really really meant it. Usually, an apology for Vox was one step further in getting what he wanted all along. However, this time the fact he made you cry actually erked him like nothing else before.

He apologized solely because he wanted you to feel better.

“I’m just not in the mood for your shit, Vox,” you  answer, choked out and muffled as you wipe the tears from your face. 

“I know. Well, now I do.” He went over his metal list once more, “So what’s got you so out of sorts this evening, my dear?”

“I’ve just—“ you sniff, trying to take in your thoughts, “—I’ve had a long day.”

“I’m all ears,” he answers immediately. If there’s one thing Vox was good at, it was listening.

You rant to him about the mishaps of the day, how fed up you were with so-and-so, how tired you were of life being so hard.

The entire time, Vox listened, plotting the perfect reply out in his mind, and checking off boxes on his list.

“Well, it’s over now, your home. And I won’t be an asshole anymore,” He says, earning a raised eyebrow from you. 

“I’ll try not to be an asshole anymore,” he corrects, provoking a small but noticeable smile out of you. He rewards himself, internally.

Hug them, he told himself. 

He moved closer to you and hesitantly wrapped his arms around your stomach, rubbing your back gently. To his delight, you ease into the hug, arms looping around his neck as you recovered from your breakdown.

“You’re so not getting laid tonight, by the way,” you joke, still in the hug.

“Yes, my dear. Unfortunately, I figured.” he sighed and continued rubbing your back.

“Do you wanna go watch TV upstairs?” you inquire.

“Always,” he grinned.

“Do you wanna keeping hugging while we do that,” you ask, genuinely curious.

His smile softened, “always.”

a/n — and then the next day you railed him into a mattress until he was crying harder than you ever were. The end.

[springtyme]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐈𝐬 𝐎𝐧 𝐅𝐢𝐫𝐞

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟐: 𝐈 𝐍𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐒𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐒𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩 ♡

Carmy x afab!reader || Series masterlist || Series playlist

Previous chapter || Main masterlist || ao3 || Next chapter

chapter summary: You and your neighbor share a cigarette, and you have an unexpected chat with his sister... Carmy kind of wants to strangle Richie.

word count: 7.4k

warnings/tags: Eventual smut! (18+, mdni!) Language. Smoking. Food. Angst and fluff. Hurt/comfort. Slow burn. Mutual pining. Strangers to friends to lovers. The beef as found family. Set in season one.

a/n: This chapter was supposed to be about twice as long, but we are gonna wait with the rest till next chapter. this might mean that there will end up being an extra chapter in the end.

"I need some sleep It can't go on like this I tried counting sheep But there's one I always miss"

“I’m Carmen… Carmen Berzatto.” 

Oh… Now the pieces start to fall into place - the tattoos, the exhaustion, the haunted look in his eyes that felt so familiar. A mix of sadness and understanding washes over you.   

“But uh… Carmy is fine,” he adds, the tiniest ghost of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Nice to meet you, Carmy.” You smile at him before telling him your own name, feeling a little embarrassed you didn’t tell him earlier, and a short silence follows, before you gently clear your throat. “Well, shall we?” 

“Yeah.” Carmy responds with a small nod of his head as he follows you down the hallway towards your apartment.  The short walk feels oddly awkward and comforting at the same time. 

As you step inside, you gesture for Carmy to follow you into the kitchen. You turn on the cabinet lights and motion for him to take a seat or stand wherever he prefers before grabbing a couple of mugs from the cupboard. There is still hot water on the kettle for you to make a new cup of tea. 

“You want normal or decaf?” you ask, holding up the coffee canister. Carmen’s tired eyes light up a little at the mention of coffee.

“Normal, please, I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep anytime soon, and I have to leave for work in three hours” he lets out a soft, breathy sound, something between a sight and a chuckle, the sound weary but genuine, and a clear touch of gratitude in his voice. You put a filter in the coffee maker and pour the coffee grounds into it, the aroma slowly beginning to fill the air. As the coffee brews, you plop a tea bag into your own mug before pouring in the hot water. You take a moment to glance at him, his tired expression evident as he leans against the counter. 

You notice the way his eyes flicker around the room, taking in the small details of your kitchen that must be mirroring his own, before his gaze lands on you. Your eyes meet for a split second before you quickly look down at your steeping tea, feeling  how your pulse quickens slightly from getting caught staring.  

You clear your throat and decide to break the silence. “So, how does a chef end up starting a kitchen fire at 3 in the morning?” you say in an attempt to lighten up the mood, but you immediately cringe at yourself, it probably wasn’t the most tactful question to ask. You’re not normally this awkward, but you also don’t normally have strangers in your apartment in the middle of the night like this. 

“I-ehm… I was actually cooking in my sleep, I woke up to the fire alarm.” He confesses, sounding a little embarrassed as he rubs the back of his neck. 

“Oh,” is all you say, not really knowing what else to come up with. You take a moment to process Carmen’s response, trying not to let your surprise show on your face. Cooking in his sleep? That certainly wasn’t a typical explanation for starting a kitchen fire. “I guess sleepwalking and cooking don’t mix well,” you end up replying, feeling a bit silly for stating the obvious. 

“Yeah,” he says, nodding in agreement. “I suppose not.” his voice laced with exhaustion, and another long stretch of silence unfolds between you. You are just about to open your mouth to say something to break it - what, you don’t even know, but you are saved by the coffee machine beeping, indicating that the coffee is ready. You quickly pour the hot coffee into a mug, happy for the natural interruption of the awkward silence. 

“Cream and sugar?” you ask him, smiling politely. 

Carmy nods gratefully. “Just a little cream, please.” You carefully pour a dash of cream into the mug, watching as it swirls and mixes with the fragrant dark coffee before placing the mug in front of Carmen. He takes a sip, his tired eyes closing momentarily as he savors the warmth.

“Thank you,” he says softly, the gratitude evident in his voice. You just smile at him. Taking your tea, you lean against  the counter on the opposite side of him.  

The two of you fall into a now more comfortable silence, the only sound filling the room being the occasional sip of coffee or tea. You cannot help but glance over at him every now and then, taking in the tired lines of his face, the way his eyes seem to hold a thousand untold stories. 

After a few moments of sipping your tea in silence, Carmen breaks the silence, pointing at one of the pictures on your fridge. “Is that from Copenhagen?”

You nod, a small smile playing on your lips as you look over at the picture. “Yeah, it is. I got a job offer here in Chicago and thought that it might be time to try something new, I moved here six months ago, but before that I lived in Copenhagen. I like it here, and I’m really enjoying my new job,  but I do miss it.” 

“Yeah, Copenhagen’s really beautiful,” he says, still looking at the picture. 

You lean forward, feeling a spark of conversation ignite between you and Carmen. “So, you’ve been?”

“Yeah, I actually lived there for a while, when I worked at Norma.” He says it so casually, but you can’t help but feel a surge of surprise at his casual mention of working at a renowned three-Michelin-star restaurant. 

“Wow, that’s really cool,” you say, genuinely impressed. “What was it like?” 

Carmy smiles softly, a nostalgic glint in his tired eyes. “It was intense, but also really… rewarding?” he says, his voice trailing off slightly as if lost in memories. “The chefs there pushed me to my limits,  I learned so much during my time there, but, yeah, it was definitely hectic...” He pauses, a hint of melancholy in his voice, he seems to be caught in his own thoughts for a moment before he lightly shakes his head and turns his attention back to you. “What about you, what do you work with?”

“I work in theater, I’m a scenographer,” you reply, feeling a sense of pride as you talk about your passion. “I design and create the visual aspects of the stage production, from the sets to the props and the costumes. It’s a lot of work, but I really love it.” 

Carmen’s tired eyes light up with interest. “that sounds really cool. It must be amazing to see your designs come to life on stage.”

“It is,” you reply, a smile tugging at your lips. “It can be really demanding sometimes, but seeing everything come together during a performance… It’s like the best feeling I know. To know that your hard work is helping give people an experience. I really like that feeling”  

He looks at you with a newfound glint in his eyes. You feel a warmth spreading through your chest from the way his eyes sparkle with genuine interest. “I think I know what you mean,” he responds, a sense of understanding passing between you. “It’s like when you create something with your hands and then see the final product, it’s a sense of accomplishment and satisfaction.” 

“Exactly,” you nod in agreement, feeling a sense of understanding with Carmen in that moment that you haven’t felt in a long time. The two of you fall into a comfortable silence, both lost in your own thoughts for a short moment before he breaks the quiet. 

“But, I’ll have to admit, I don’t really go to the theater that much,” he says, a sheepish smile playing on his lips. “Or like, at all.”

You chuckle softly, the conversation now flowing easily between you. “Well, don’t feel bad, most people don’t. And, I’ll also have to admit that I don’t really go to Michelin restaurants that often either… or at all.” This makes Carmy laugh – it’s soft and short lived, but genuine, and your heart sillily skips a beat by the gentle melody of it. 

“That’s fair, but I’m not working at Michelin places anymore,” he says, his voice losing a bit of its newfound bravado and his smile falters slightly, a shadow passing over his features. “My brother, Mikey…” Oh… Michael was his brother, you feel a pang of sadness wash over you as you piece together the connection. “He left me his restaurant, It’s an old shithole of a beef spot. I’m trying to get it back on its feet, but it’s been a struggle, you know?”  

You can see the weight of his words behind his tired eyes, the burden of responsibility and loss bearing down on him. 

“I was in New York… I was the Chef de Cuisine at the Eleven Madison Park, and now I’m back here, trying to revive this place that I can’t even believe is still standing,” Carmen’s voice fades a bit at the end of his sentence, a sense of resignation and disbelief evident in his words. “It’s fucking bullshit.” You can hear the frustration and sadness in his voice, and you feel a surge of empathy for him. “But it also means fucking everything to me,” he adds, his eyes unfocused and tired as he gazes off into the distance before blinking and lightly shaking his head, his pale cheek redding a little.

He looks embarrassed at his little outburst, a deep sigh escaping his lips as he runs a hand through his curls in frustration. “Sorry,” he murmurs, the word hanging in the air as he looks down at his coffee mug. You can see the conflicted emotions swirling in his eyes, the weight of his past and present struggles evident in his posture. 

“No need to apologize,” you reassure him, and another stretch of silence settles between you, the weight of his words lingering in the air. You don’t really know what else to say, so you don’t say anything, letting the quiet moment linger as you both sip your drinks, the only sound filling the room being the steady hum of the refrigerator. 

The atmosphere  hangs heavy with the weight of Carmen’s words, and you can sense how he is starting to shut down. So, instead of pushing for more conversation, you decide to take another approach. 

“Hey, uhm, can I bum one?” you ask, nodding towards the pack of cigarettes you had watched him put in his pants pocket when you had entered your apartment. You have your own, and you try not to smoke at night, but you make an exception, you crave the comfort of a cigarette and Carmen looks like he does too, and being able to offer you a cigarette might make him feel like he has something to offer and ease the tension.

Carmen’s tired eyes flicker for a second, like he is being pulled out of deep thoughts before looking back at you again.

“Yeah, of course,” he replies, pulling the cigarettes from his pocket and handing you the entire pack. “I would have gone down on the street…” he begins to explain before trailing off. 

You shake your head, cutting him off with a smile. “No need, If you’re fine with the fire escape we can go out there,” you offer in a gentle tone.

Carmen’s tired expression softens at your offer, and he nods in agreement. “Yeah, that sounds good.” 

The two of you make your way to the window, cracking it open to let in some fresh air before climbing out onto the fire escape. The metal stairs creaking slightly with each step as the cool night air greets you as you both settle against the railing, the distant sound of the city humming below you. 

You pull out a cigarette and pop it between your lips before handing back the packet to Carmy. He takes one, lighting it with a flick of his lighter, the orange flame illuminating his tired face. He has a scar, you notice, on his right cheek, which you hadn’t noticed before. It looks like an old wound, faded and barely noticeable in the dim light of the night. You can’t help but wonder how he got it, but you are pulled out of your thoughts as he flickers on the lighter again, this time holding it out for you to light your cigarette. 

You lean in, the flame dancing before your eyes, casting a warm glow on your face. As you inhale, pulling life into the cigarette, the smoke swirls around you in the night air, the ember glowing brightly in the darkness. “Thanks,” you mumble, as you exhale, letting the smoke escape through your nose as you lean back again.  

For a while, the two of you sit in companionable silence, the only sounds being the never-quiet ambience of Chicago  from the streets below. The night air is cool against your skin, but also somewhat refreshing, and the warmth of the cigarettes and the close proximity of Carmen keeps you feeling cozy and content.

The weight of the conversation from earlier still lingers, but as you gaze out at the city skyline, a sense of peace washes over you. You smoke the entire cigarette in silence before Carmen breaks the quiet. “Did you know Mikey?”

You take a moment to collect your thoughts before responding, the few memories you have of Michael flooding back to you. 

“I don’t know if I knew him. We weren’t close, but we were neighbors for a few months. He was always friendly whenever we crossed paths in the hallway,” you say, watching Carmen closely for any sign of emotion. “I had my couch delivered about a week after I moved in, and despite having ordered it to be brought up to my apartment, the delivery guys just left it down on the street. Michael came down. I think he was on his way to work, and this guy came to pick him up and after asking me what happened, they just picked it up and started carrying it up for me. I tried to stop them, I was so scared, they’d throw their backs out,” you chuckle softly at the memory. “He didn’t have to do that, but he did anyway. I tried to thank them afterwards, venmo them or something, but they just waved it off.” 

Carmen listens quietly, his eyes focused on some distant point in the night sky, a flicker of emotion passing through his expression before he clears his throat softly. “Sounds like him,” he murmurs, his voice heavy with memories as he lights another  smoke, silently handing the pack over to you.

You take one, grateful for the distraction as you light it and take a long drag, the smoke swirling around you as you exhale. The quiet moment lingers between you, the weight of unspoken words hanging in the air. You can feel Carmen’s grief and exhaustion radiating off of him, the burden of loss and responsibility heavy on his shoulders. 

The silence stretches, and you start to worry that your story about the couch wasn’t the right thing to say, that maybe you had overstepped by bringing up memories of his brother. You rack your brain for something else to say, anything to lighten the mood or make him feel better, but you come up empty. Instead, you simply sit in silence, the only sounds being the gentle buzz of the city below and the occasional drag of your cigarettes. 

You can sense that Carmen is grappling with his own thoughts, his tired eyes gazing out at the twinkling lights below, lost in his own world. After a while, he breaks the silence, dumping his cigarette butt in the rusty tin can you have standing out here for the purpose. 

“I should probably get out of your hair and let you get some rest,” Carmen says, his voice resigned but appreciative. 

You nod in understanding, feeling a sense of disappointment at the thought of him leaving so soon. A part of you wants to tell him to stay, but you also understand that he probably needs some time to himself. “Yeah, of course,” you reply, trying to keep your voice light and he gets up. 

The polite, well mannered side of you tells you to get up and follow him to the door, but your intuition tells you to stay. It seems like he needs some space to process his thoughts and feelings, and you don’t want to intrude on that. So, instead, you simply smile at him and nod towards the window. “Thanks for the company, Carmy. And hey, if you ever burn down your kitchen again, don’t hesitate to knock on my door, okay?” you tease, you want to say something deeper, but you hold back, not wanting to push too much.

Carmen lets out a soft chuckle, his tired eyes lighting up with a hint of amusement. “I’ll keep that in mind. Thanks for the coffee and the chat,” he says, a small smile playing on his lips as he gives you a small wave before disappearing back into the apartment. A few seconds later you hear the click of the front door closing after him, and you feel a mix of emotions swirling inside you. 

You sit there for a while longer, the cigarette between your fingers slowly burning out. The weight of the night settles around you, the city’s hum a distant lullaby. You take one last drag of your cigarette, scrunching your nose at the light burn of your lips as you realize it had burned down to the filter.  

With a sigh you dispose of the butt in the tin can, letting it join the others, before standing, leaning against the railing and gazing out at the city lights twinkling below. The night air is crisp against your skin, the silence of the night wrapping around you like a warm blanket. You stand there for a little while longer, lost in your thoughts as your tired eyes capture the beauty of the cityscape below you. The events of the evening swirl around in your mind, the unexpected encounter with Carmy. You don’t know if you overstepped any boundaries, if you said the right things, or if you offered enough support. But you hope you did the right thing. 

With a final sigh, you step back inside, closing the window behind you and letting the night air dissipate. The apartment, that has felt empty since you moved in, feels even emptier now, and that is when you realize that Carmen had been the first person who you have invited into your home since you moved to Chicago. You can’t help but ponder over that as you head back to the kitchen to clean up and finish your tea. Maybe you should invite some of your coworkers over sometime, or actually start on trying to make some friends here. 

You go over to the coffee maker to pour out the leftover coffee in the pot, but you are surprised when you see that it has already been done, and the mug Carmen had used is hanging from the drying rack, along with the other dishes that had been sitting in the sink waiting for you to finally rack up the energy to wash, now cleaned. 

Maybe it’s just because you really, really hate washing dishes or maybe it’s the realization that you have been more lonely than you realized, but the sight makes a weird feeling settle in your chest, and it is too much for you to start processing right now, so you simply set down your mug on the counter and turn on your heel, leaving the kitchen and head to bed. Had you stayed in the dark kitchen for just a short while longer, you might have noticed the forgotten phone next to the sink. 

You make your way to your bedroom, peeling off your hoodie and sweatpants before sinking into the comfort of your bed, feeling a mix of emotions swirling within you, that you’re not ready to decipher. All you really want to do right now is to let all thoughts and feelings fade away into the peaceful void of sleep. You don’t have work tomorrow, thank god, so you allow yourself to drift off without setting an alarm, letting the warm duvet envelop you as the beating of your heart slowly lulls you into a deep, dreamless sleep. 

· · · · ·

Carmen is flipping through the pages of the folder, he’s barely registering the ideas and suggestions she had put together  for the restaurant.. He doesn’t want to be an asshole, really doesn’t want to, but all this is a lot  and he can’t really deal with a lot right now.

He can feel the beginning of the well-known pounding in his temples, another day, another headache. He wants to be able to fix this place, and he is happy that Sydney wants to help with that, but all he can focus on right now is to get through the day. There is three hours to opening, one of the fucking ballbreaker machines are broken, and he can’t find his fucking phone, he thinks he might have forgotten it at home, he was a bit of a zombie when he left this morning. Last night was something… he’ll probably need 3-5 business days to process, or even better repress it completely from his memory, despite it being difficult. 

“On page 27, randomly, there’s actually some pretty good layouts of just that,” Sydney says, clearly trying to sound casual, but her voice betrays  a hint of eagerness.   

“Page 27?” he asks, feeling overwhelmed by everything in front of him.  

“Yeah, it’s mostly graphics,” Syd replies.  

He knows Sydney’s right, she is smart and capable, and he is not doubting that she has a bunch of good ideas. She is probably way more qualified to run a business than he is, or ever will be, but he can’t see how any of this is realistic. She is right, they are sleeping on to-go’s, but there is no way they’ll be able to manage that right now. 

And, yeah, there is no doubt that they need to make some serious changes, but all Carmen can focus on right now is to keep his head above water. He has issues keeping vendors current, and even scraping enough together to actually pay the staff. 

“Yo, Carm!” Marcus voice calls out, interrupting them. Carmen hands the folder back to Sydney before stepping out of the little office to see what’s now going on. 

Following Marcus’s voice, Carmy swings the doors open to the front of the house where he finds the baker leaning against the front of the counter, and Richie standing behind it with a woman, probably around his mothers age, who Carmy’s never seen before.   

“Yo, what’s going on?” Carmy asks, trying to push aside the headache that is threatening to take over while trying to understand what’s going on with Sydney hot on his heels. 

“No. I can handle this myself, cousin. I got this,” Richie tells him, holding his hand up as Carmen steps into the room. “So… You’re not Ron…” Richie says, now addressing the woman. 

“Ron’s gone. Gone, gone,” she answers, which isn’t helping Carmen understand the situation in the slightest. 

“Ron’s dead?!” Marcus exclaims, leaning a little further over the counter. 

“Who is Ron?” Carmy asks, trying to get a handle on the situation.

The woman turns towards Carmen. “My partner Ron Pager. He passed away. I’m running his routes now.” 

“Everybody’s dying,” Richie says, annoyed, making a half turn in frustration. 

“Nancy Chore, Chicago Board of Health,” the woman introduces herself, offering an explanation to Carmen. “I’m here to inspect the property.” 

Of, course… An inspection, why the fuck not?! Just what this day needed… 

“Okay, Nancy, hi. I’m Carmen Berzatto,” he extends his hand, introducing himself. “I’m the owner.”

“He’s the owner’s brother actually. He’s also dead,” Richie says, causing a raised eyebrow from the older woman. 

“He doesn’t look dead.”

“No, no I’m not dead. My brother is dead.” Carmen clarifies, even though he feels a bit dead right now. 

“I’m very sorry to hear that,” the woman says with a sympathetic nod. 

“I’m sorry for your loss too,” Richie says to the health inspector, not missing a beat as he continues. “Can I see some kind of identification?”

“Yeah,” the woman replies, holding out her very legit looking badge per Richie’s request. 

“Interesting,” the taller man says, his arms folded over his chest. 

“Is it? What’s interesting about that?” Carmen says, he can’t fucking deal with Richie’s antics right now, he just wants this inspection to be over as soon as possible. Carmy’s been trying to make everyone step up their game in the two weeks he’s been here. He, himself stayed until late last night to deep clean. There shouldn’t be any problems, and if Richie will just behave, everything should be going smoothly… Hopefully.         

“It’s an interesting logo on her badge,” Richie says defensively. 

Carmy decides to ignore him, turning his attention to the inspector. “Nancy, if you need anything, just find us. Make yourself at home. Okay?” He turns around to go back to the kitchen, he has a lot to do and he doesn’t have time to deal with Richie’s shenanigans right now. “Where’s Tina and Ebra!” he calls out as he makes it back to the kitchen with Sydney following him back again, seemingly not done with telling about her ideas to improve the restaurant.      

Carmen had hoped that the interruption would make her forget about it for a while, his head can’t hold any more right now, but he is also mildly curious to hear ideas, and he also doesn’t want to seem like an asshole, it is really nice of her to want to help, so he lets her follow him around as he makes it through the restaurant. 

“I also noted on the prog that it’s not necessarily flour that is expensive, but shipping, so we could just have somebody go and pick it up.” Sydney says as they make it back into his office. 

 “Yeah, Marcus,” Carmen agrees. He can definitely see the logic in that. It’s a good, and actually feasible, idea.

“Okay, sure. Marcus. Great,” she says a little confused. 

“No, it can only be Marcus,” Carmy explains. 

Sydney makes a face of befuddlement. “Why can it only be Marcus?”

“Sweeps, Tina and Ebra don’t drive,” he clarifies. .

“Uh, well, what about Richie?” she asks questioningly.   

“Suspended license.” 

“I saw him drive in this morning,” she points out. 

Carmy just shrugs, he is not sending a man with a suspended license out driving doing work hours, if Richie wants to risk it on his own time then that’s his business. 

Sydney shakes her head lightly, getting back on track. “The point is, it’s one of hundreds of things we can be doing to save costs!” 

“Sydney. Sydney. Sydney,” Carmy interrupts her. “Look, I’m sure this is all correct, but it’s a lot. The job you’re describing goes way outside what I can afford to pay a sous, which I can barely afford already. But I hear you. Okay? I have every intention of turning this into an efficient, respectable place of business run by adults…”

He can see that she is about to say something, but before she can get to it she gets interrupted by an outburst from the front of the house. “That’s a fucking ass of shit!” Richie’s voice bellows.   

“Eventually…” Carmy sighs, stepping out of the office once again to see what’s happening.  “Yo, yo, what’s going on?!” He yells as he pushes through the door to the front again, seeing that most of the staff are already there. A pressing feeling of uneasiness, starting to form in his chest as he steps around the counter to get to where Richie and Ms. Chore is standing, who he had almost forgotten was here. 

“Look… It wasn’t dangerous, Ms. Chore…” Richie says defensively, immediately making alarm bells go off in Carmy’s head.  

“What’s dangerous?!” Carmy demands to know.  

“I discovered a large hole in the tile. Looks like a former gas line next to the stove tops. Not only was it not properly dry walled and caulked, but someone clogged the hole with napkins and proxied over it with some kind of plastic. Grease seeped into the napkins and the proxy became unproxied.” Ms. Chore explains, sounding less than pleased. 

“So what does that mean?” Carmy can feel how fury is starting to slowly simmer in his stomach, threatening to soon be brought to a boil.

“A potential cross contaminate. Additionally, no hot water in the hand station.” The older woman explains. 

The last part makes both Richie and Syd erupt in protest, their voices overlapping and echoing through the room as they try to explain that the hot water does work, the water just has to run for a little while, which Ms. Chore doesn’t seem to be satisfied with. “Health code states any sink near a prep area needs to deliver instantly hot water to prevent the spread of bacteria.”  

Carmen can feel how his headache is now blooming into a full-blown migraine as the chaos unfolds around him. The sound of the voices mixing with the sound of the broken arcade game is starting to feel like an alarm going off in his head. It is like the piercing sound is stabbing through his temples and into his brain. He rubs his forehead, while grabbing the counter with his other hand, trying to ground himself as he tries to push back the throbbing pain. A health code vialation is literally the last fucking thing they need right now.  

“I haven’t even delivered the big one yet.” The health inspector continues and Carmen feels how his stomach drops at her words.   

“There’s a big one?” Fak says from his seat at the counter.   

“And what is the big one?” Carmen asks, breathing through his nose. richie

The woman pulls out a packet of smokes, ‘King Size Sapphire’, Carmen’s eyes immediately looks over at Richie. “Someone left a pack of cigarettes on the stovetop near the burners. Not only very dangerous, but also a potential contaminant.”  

“Motherfucker…” Carmy let’s out. The migraine is now pounding behind his eyes. 

“You can say that again,” Ms. Chore 

“Motherfucker!” Richie echoes, making Carmy’s blood fucking boil .

“Don’t actually say that again, you fucking idiot!” He yells at the taller man, feeling like he could strangle him in this moment.   

“Unfortunately, these violations leave me no choice. I award you a C.” Miss Chore holds the cardstock with a giant orange C out to hand over to Carmy, but he doesn’t take it. He can feel the anger and frustration boiling inside of him, threatening to spill over. The orange letter on the paper mocking him.    

A choir of protests fills the room as the staff tries to defend themselves, but Carmy can hardly hear them over the pounding in his head. 

“You know what, I’m going to caulk that shit right now, okay?” Richie states, trying to plead with Ms. Chore.  

“Oh, it doesn’t matter how fast you do it. I can’t come back to test for 30 days,” Ms Chore says, not missing a beat. 

“It’ll take five minutes, okay?! It’ll take five minutes to caulk.” Richie tries to bargain. “I can caulk! Let me fucking CAULK!” 

“There’s no caulk in the house, dude,” Fak chimes, making Richie yell at him to shut up and Ms. Chore hands over the review paper to Carmy before leaving. 

Carmy thinks he might actually strangle Richie, his head now not only throbbing with pain but with red hot fury as well. 

“You’re bitching me? You wanna run this place?!” Carmen seethes, his voice dripping with anger as he pushes Richie in the chest, his frustration finally boiling over.   

“How do you know they’re not your cigarettes?!” Richie pushes back, making Carmy stumble back a step. 

“Cause I’m not a fucking dipshit!” Carmy yells, seething with a mix of anger and frustration as he is about to push Richie again, but Sydney steps in between before he gets the chance, trying to keep the two men from each other as they yell at each other. Cursing and yelling fill the room as tensions escalate, the staff trying to intervene and the review paper falls to the floor in the commotion. 

“Let’s not do this,” Sydney says, her voice breaking through to Carmy, making him regain his senses. 

“All right. All right,” he says, throwing his hands in the air, trying to calm himself down before turning to Richie. “Here’s what we’re gonna do. You are gonna go to the hardware store, you’re gonna get some joint compound. You’re gonna get some caulk and you’re gonna caulk that shit,” he says, his tone firm like he’s giving instructions to a child, despite him saying it with much more anger than he would ever use toward a kid.    

“Okay, well, FYI…” Richie cuts in, as if he’s about to argue, making Carmy wanna punch him. “I’m not your fucking gofer.”

“FYI?! FYI!” Carmen can’t believe he is having this discussion with a grown man. “FYI, you cocked it up, you’re gonna caulk it out!”

“Okay, well, I would love to, but my license is expired, FYI!” Richie retorts, his voice dripping with sarcasm. 

“I saw you drive in this morning,” Sydney points out, making Carmen turn towards her.

“Sydney, you wanna help, you can take him.”

This makes Richie protest. “No. Time out. I’ll Uber. Thank you.”  

“Surge rates, fucko!” Carmy reminds him, his voice dripping with annoyance. 

“Fine,” Richie says in defeat before looking at Sydney. “But we’re taking my car.”

“I don’t care…” she says, shaking her head. 

Carmen is just glad that they’re leaving. Glad Richie’s leaving because he is fucking angry at him, and glad that Sydney is leaving, because it is clear to everyone that she is far too good for this place, and it makes him feel bad and kind of embarrassed that she has to put up with all the bullshit that happens here.

He just needs a break from annoying pseudo-cousins and over-ambitious sous chefs for a little while. Although Sydney is not officially his sous yet, but he is going to hire her – he’d be an idiot not to, she is probably the best this shitty place will ever see, if she still wants to work here after today, that is…

Carmy picks up the fallen review paper from the floor with slightly trembling hands as the giant orange C is staring back at him. The image burns into his mind, a symbol of failure and inadequacy. He knows that this place is shit and that he needs to make changes, but this is a whole new low.  His head feels like it is about to explode, the pounding in his temples now so unbearable he almost feels nauseous, the ballbreaker jingle of the broken machine, like nails on a chalkboard, echoing in his tired head.  

“Fix that fucking sound. Please fix that fucking sound!” He spits at Fak, half commanding, half pleading.  

“I will fix it. Fak always fixes it. Kids come in, break it, and what happens? I fix the balls. Fak fixes the balls.”

“FIX IT!” Carmy just yells. He wonders if it’s actually happened, after all these years in nightmarishly stressful kitchens, two weeks at The Beef  is what’s finally driven him completely insane as he goes back through the doors to the kitchen.   

Taking a breath and clenching his fists he tries to gather his thoughts. If he changes the plans so that Tina takes over Sydney’s stations while she is gone and he makes family, they shouldn’t get too behind while Sydney and Richie are gone.    

“Yo, Tina! I need you to help me out, chef,” he calls out to Tina, trying to regain a sense of control amidst the chaos. “I need you to take over Sydney’s stations while she’s gone. We need to keep things running smoothly, I’ll make family and help out with prep,” Carmen instructs, his voice firm but tinged with the underlying stress and frustration he’s feeling. 

“Got it, Jeff,” the shorter woman says, retying the strings of her ‘Mrs. Always Right’ apron.   

“Thank you, chef,” Carmy says, really meaning it. He knows she’s having a hard time with all the new changes he has made around the kitchen, and with Sydney coming in and things changing up, but she has been here for a long time and there is a reason for that.  

As they start working and tackling the tasks at hand, Carmen feels how his anger slowly disappears, something else inside him taking over. 

He has no idea how to manage, let alone fix, a failing business, but he knows how to cook. He knows what he’s doing when he’s in the kitchen and he knows that he can rely on his skills and can get into that magical state where he can shut his brain of for a little while, and just fully concentrates on the task at hand – which in this point of his life probably is the closest he comes to relaxing.  

· · · · ·     

You are pulled out of your slumber by the ringing of your phone, the shrill sound cutting through the peaceful silence of your bedroom. Groggily, you reach out to the nightstand where your phone is resting, fumbling for it in the darkness before finally grabbing hold of it. But  as you squint at the screen to see the caller ID, you see that there is none, it isn’t even your phone that is ringing. 

Confusion clouds your mind as you slide out of bed, and it is now clear to you that the sound isn’t coming from your bedroom. You stumble out of the room, trying to locate the source of the ringing, but it stops before you get a chance to pinpoint it. 

“What the…” you mumble before the ringing starts once again, realizing that the sound is coming from the kitchen. You feel a sense of unease wash over you as you make your way to the kitchen, the sound of the shrill ringing growing louder with each step. You enter the room and coming into view is the telephone on your kitchen counter. Confusion wells up inside you for a split second, your groggy mind still in a half fogged state of sleep, before the events of  last night come back to you. Carmen must have forgotten his phone last night. 

You look over at the oven, the digital clock, shocked by how late it is, you can’t remember the last time you woke up this late.  

You step over to the sink, looking down at the phone, the caller ID lighting up on the screen saying ‘Sugar’. You hesitate for a moment, wondering if you should answer or not. It feels pretty invasive to pick up another person’s phone, someone you don’t really know,  and you have no idea who this Sugar is, maybe a girlfriend? In that case you don’t want to intrude on their personal business, and you’re definitely not in the mood to be interrogated by some angry girlfriend.   

But it could be important, or maybe it is Carmen calling his own phone to figure out where it’s at. You contemplate what to do, but before you can make a decision the phone stops again, the ringing coming to an abrupt halt. 

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, but after a few seconds the phone lights up again. With a fast beating heart you swipe across the screen before picking it up to your ear, bracing yourself for whatever may come. 

“God damn it, Carm!” A female voice crackles through the speaker, frustration and annoyance evident in her tone. “Listen I know-” 

“Hello,” you croak out, interrupting the woman, not wanting to eavesdrop on a private conversation. The voice on the other end goes silent for a moment, and you can almost hear the confusion through the phone. 

“Uh, hi…” the voice says, the frustration in her tone melting away, being replaced with puzzlement. “Is Carmen there?”

You clear your throat, a little embarrassed by the mix-up. “Uh, no, he isn’t.” You cringe internally at the awkwardness of the situation. “He, uh, left his phone here last night.” And you only cringe even more. “I’m his neighbor, we had some coffee last night.” You quickly add, mentally cursing yourself for sounding so awkward, but you push through. 

“Oh..” the woman responds, her voice softening. “I’m Natalie, I’m Carmen’s sister.”

Relief floods through you, feeling a way more at ease now that you know who you’re talking to as you tell her your own name. 

“I’m sorry for yelling at you,” Natalie says, genuine remorse in her voice. “I’ve been trying to talk to him for a few days now, and I was starting to worry, but I think he’s just ignoring me.”

You feel a sense of understanding wash over you, having seen the exhaustion and turmoil in Carmen’s eyes the night before, and knowing about what had happened with Michael you can’t help but feel for her. “It’s okay,” you reassure her. “But, yeah, I saw him last night, we had coffee and he must have left his phone here by accident.” You offer, hoping to ease some of Natalie’s worry

“Oh, thank you for letting me know,” she replies, relief evident in her tone. “He can be a bit of a scatterbrain sometimes. I know he’s been dealing with a lot lately, so I appreciate you looking out for him.” 

You nod, feeling a sense of connection with Natalie, despite never having met her. “Of course, happy to help out.” 

You contemplate whether to offer any more information about your interaction with Carmy, but you ultimately decide to keep it to yourself. It’s really none of your business, but you can’t shake off the urge to help somehow. 

“Hey, uhm, if you give me the address I can swing by the restaurant and drop off his phone. I know I would be fucked without mine.” It’s not like you have any plans and you would probably not leave your apartment today if you don’t have a reason to. “I can tell Carmen to give you a call when he gets the chance,” you continue, hoping to be of some use and to ease Natalie’s worries.

“You’d do that?” 

“Yeah, it’s not a problem. Just let me know where to go and I’ll drop it off,” you offer, genuine in your willingness to help out. 

“That’s so sweet of you,” Natalie says, her voice softens even further, with a sense of genuine gratitude. She gives you the address to the restaurant, and you jot it down on a post-it note. The call ends with a warm goodbye from both of you. 

Forty minutes later, after a quick shower and getting dressed and ready, you’re on your way to the train station, the music in your headphones filling your ears as you step out onto the platform. Luckily you don’t have to wait long before the gray train pulls up, you board and find a spot to stand, not feeling the need to sit. The gentle rock of the train lulling you into a sense of calm, as you let your brain disconnect and enter the weird, cathartic state of introspection that you often seem to get in on public transportation while you watch Chicago pass by in a blur of buildings and colors.  

As the train comes to a stop at the station near the restaurant, you step out onto the platform and make your way towards the address Natalie had given you, it’s just a simple eight minute walk and you’re are there a lot quicker than you would have preferred, suddenly feeling a wave of nervousness wash over you, but you try to push through it, reminding yourself that you are just dropping off a phone and there’s no need to overthink things.

The restaurant is easy to spot, a worn sign hanging above the entrance with the name ‘The Original Beef of Chicagoland.’ You take a deep breath before pushing open the door and step inside.

Thank you for reading! Reblogs and comments are always greatly appreciated :) let me know if you want to be tagged in the next chapter ♡

@wittyno @eternallyvenus @eddioto

[satorusugurugurl]

I hope this does not give too much pressure, but I have a request? I LOVED LOVED the fanfic about satosugu and reader with them being very, very rough after a tough work project/trip. Then I thought about it being a angsty?? Love a good angst

This is your account so it’s completely up to you to write or not!! I was thinking that after a while SatoSugu have another rough week. When the come back, the don’t immediately take it out through sex. Instead, they just bottle it up. Reader tries to comfort them about it but they ignore her or act snappy. Reader isn’t a pushover, but she is very understanding and patient. She lets them be mean, (it still hurt though) and just stays calm. She also had her own rough week while they were gone, but she doesn’t really show it. When they come back angry, she was hoping to forget her pain with them, but she only got their cold shoulder and words.

The next day when she comes home from another rough workday, she notices that they seemed to still be angry and agitated from their work trip. They suggest she take the next two days off, and she immediately knew what was coming. (Full consent given from her) She was feeling sensitive from her own turmoil/stress and the duo’s coldness, but she didn’t think too much of it.

While the roughness did feel good at first, it slowly became too much. They were too rough, far too rough. Their harsh words hurt. Their harsh hands hurt. The rope/ribbon hurt. Everything hurt, but was she overreacting? She was scared of disappointing them and ruining the mood I guess. She tried to look alright, but her cries slowly let out from the pain and emotional hurt.

They noticed it… Reader apologizes, but the duo is like, “Um no why are YOU sorry? This is on US.” SatoSugu realize their mistake and take care her mwah!! It was just a small dump, I’m so so sorry! As much as I LOVE writing, I’ll never be too confident enough to put this out. Even if I were to, writing styles will always be different. (Plus, I love the way other people write, just like yours!!)

Sorry it’s so so long!

- Moni Anon (first time requesting… kind of shy)

Shock

Characters: Gojo Satoru, Geto Suguru, FAB!Reader

Pairing: SatoSugu X FAB!Reader

Word Count: 2,659

Warnings: Blood, death, shock, nightmares, PTSD, rough sex, choking, riding crop, shibari, degradation, emotional breakdown, crying, aftercare

A/N: I loved this request! Angst is like some of my favorite stuff to write! 🥲 I love a good sad story.

Part One

The morgue was cold. But it wasn't as cold as your hands. You stood at the sink, scrubbing at them with soap and water. You hadn't realized the hot water had been running so long; it had turned icy cold. But you had to keep scrubbing them because you could still feel the tacky blood coating them.

Their blood, their blood that was hot and flowed through your fingers when you tried to stop the bleeding. Blood that stained your clothes. The blood is quite literally on your hands.

You tried, tried so damn hard to save the assistant supervisor who was with you on your mission. The information the higher-ups had given you was wrong. The curse you had exorcized wasn't the only one lingering in the building. There had been two, and after the first was taken care of, you and the assistant supervisor were headed out. The second curse attacked. Slicing at you, you had barely managed to dodge it. Getting cut on the cheek. The young woman, however, had her blood splattered on the concrete.

After the other spirit was dealt with, you rushed to her side. She cried as you tried to tell her she would be okay as you called for Ijichi. But the cut was too deep; she lost too much blood, and you watched the light fade from her eyes. Leaving you alone, stained with her blood.

Your mind snapped out of the bloody memory as someone turned the water off. They gently grabbed your hands, drying them off, pulling you out of the trance you were in. Shoko eyes you before gently leading you to the chairs lining the walls, ushering you to sit down. Reluctantly, you listened, plopping down and looking at your hands.

“I'm going to call Satoru and Suguru to tell them what's happened.”

Your head jerked up, “N-No, don't do that. I’m fine!” Shoko shook her head, leaning against the wall. “Shoko, please, really, I’m fine, I swear.”

“Y/N, I left ten minutes ago. You were washing your hands then, and I found you still washing them? You're in shock; I can't let you leave like this.”

“Please, I don't want to bother them. They just got back from a rough mission.”

“And you didn't?”

Your friend's words were searing into you like hot needles. She was right in a sense; you had just gotten back from a rough mission, but so had your boyfriends. They were gone for a week. Having to travel overseas to deal with several grade-one curses. The two of them handled it, taking down the curse users with them. But when they got home this morning, they headed to the room jet lagged and annoyed over each other, claiming they needed space and sleep.

If Shoko called them, they would be more irritable. You wanted them to get as much rest as they could. They worked their asses off. You being in shock was a minimal issue to involve them in. You would be okay—eventually.

“Y/N, I’m not comfortable letting you go home alone,” Shoko repeated, sitting on one of the chairs beside you.

“Okay, what about Yaga or Nanami then?”

You were so thankful that Shoko agreed with your proposition that Ijichi drove you and Nanami back to your house. Nanami was quiet the whole time, stealing the occasional glance at you, watching as you stared at your hands. It wasn't until Ijichi parked in front of your house that Nanami cleared his throat, catching your attention.

“I think you need to take a couple of days off.” His glasses gleamed. “I'm going to talk to Yaga about it. You're in no state to work right now. You need time to process what happened.”

Swallowing hard, you opened the door to the car. “I appreciate your concern, Nanami, but I’ll be okay.” You attempted to give him your best smile. “I got this.” The look on your friend's face screamed that he knew you were lying.

“Regardless of your ploy to fool me or downplay how much you're hurting, I will still talk to Principal Yaga.”

“And I’ll see you tomorrow. Thanks again, Nanami.”

You waved the car off before rubbing Your still-freezing hands together. Things would be better once you got inside. Satoru and Suguru were back, and you could relax, forget about work, and just be together.

As you approached the door, Satoru came out, black sunglasses on as he shut the door. “Oh, hi Satoru, welcome home!” You put on your best smile, approaching him.

“Hi, I'm heading out.” His tone was sharp and as cold as your hands.

“You’re not staying here?”

He pulled his sunglasses down, revealing his blue eyes. “No, I need to get out. Suguru is driving me insane. I’m going shopping.” He waved you off as if dismissing you.

“Oh, well, if you give me a few minutes, I could go with you?”

“Don’t take this the wrong way.” He kept walking, not even looking back at you. “I don’t wanna be around either of you right now.”

Ouch, that stung. But you just gave him a weak smile before heading inside. “Be safe.”

Alright, so Satoru needed some space, but Suguru might be in a better mood. Heading towards his room, you knocked and waited for him to respond. Only he didn’t. Your stomach twisted in knots as you hit again, a little harder this time.

A loud groan sounded behind the door before you listened to the floorboards creaking. The door flung open, and Suguru cocked an eyebrow as he eyed you. He looked exhausted and pissy, but he didn’t say anything as he glared at you.

“W-Welcome home.”

“Mhm.”

“Uhm, Satoru left. Do you wanna watch a movie or get something to eat?”

Suguru shook his head, dark streams of hair falling in his face. “No.” Your cold fingers twitched as you took a deep breath. Just as you opened your mouth, Suguru sighed, jabbing his thumb against the center of his forehead. “Y/N, please, I don’t have the patience or energy to entertain you. Please go away.” The door slammed in your face, leaving you staring at the wood grain in stunned silence.

Okay, well, that was unexpected. When the boys came back from a mission like this, you all usually had sex, taking the aggression out in the rawest way you could. This cold shoulder attitude was something new. Alien and strange, making my stomach ache.

After last week and especially today, you hoped to spend time with them. Snuggling them, forgetting about the horrors you had witnessed. Instead, you have a door in your face.

Nothing you could say or do to change their minds and attitudes. Everyone dealt with anger, stress, and exhaustion in their ways. Theirs happened to be wanting to spend time by themselves. Which was perfectly fine, but they could have at least been a bit nicer about it.

You spent the entirety of your night in your room after a hot shower. You lay there hugging your pillow as you stared blankly at the wall. Every time you started to doze off, you would see blood splattering the floor, hear wheezed, gurgled breathing, and see the light fade from that poor girl's eyes. You hardly slept at all, restlessly tossing and turning.

You were relieved when your alarm went off, ushering you to start your day. You got ready, and not once did you see your partners. Both doors to their rooms shut. Neither one came out to see you off, making your stomach turn.

At work, you put on a smile, trying to joke with the first and second years, but everyone could see your fragile state. From the dark circles under your eyes to how you disassociated during training. So you weren’t surprised when Principal Yaga came into your classroom and told you that you would be taking the next week off.

“You need to focus on recovering. If you need more time, call me.”

His words hummed in your ears all the way home. How pathetic were you? Allowing a young girl to be killed. A mandatory week off of work, and on top of all that, your partners were pissy and avoiding you. This, indeed, was one of the lowest two days of your life. You can’t remember the last time you’d felt this lowly, lost in the dark.

“I’m home.” You announced as you entered the house. Not expecting a response since both of them weren’t up when you left.

“Y/N,” Satoru said as you felt him press against your back. “Need you to do us a favor.”

Your body tensed as a blindfold was placed over your eyes. “You’ll need to call out of work for the next few days,” Suguru added as hands groped your breasts.

“Yeah, not a problem.”

They needed this, and if it would mean they felt better, that you could focus on pleasure, you’d gladly do what they wanted. And what they wanted was rough carnal sex. The type of sex that hard blue ropes digging into your wrists, bound behind your back. Intricate shibari dug into your chest, your breasts being squeezed. Everything felt so good, but it was so tight it almost hurt.

Your mouth was wrapped around Satoru’s cock. He was fucking your throat, yanking your hair painfully as he moaned as Suguru fucked you from behind. With every other thrust, Suguru slapped the leather riding crop over your ass. Your cries around Satoru’s cock had them both groaning.

“What a fuckin’ slut.” Satoru whined out, thrusting deeper down your throat, making you gag.

Suguru smacked the crop harder against you. “A dirty fuckin’ slut.” Another smack, followed by another, and it just kept going and going.

You cried around Gojo harder as Suguru continued his whipping behind you. “M-Mmm!”

“Mmm~?” Satoru mocked you. “Fuckin’ pathetic.” His cock hit the back of your throat painfully. Making your tears stain the blindfold as Suguru’s pace picked up.

“Pathetic whiny bitch in heat.” The crop hit your other cheek. “Absolutely pathetic”

You weren’t sure what hurt more. The crop and their cold, harsh words. They were never this mean. Calling you pathetic hurts because that’s who you saw yourself for the last few days. The ropes began to sting like your eyes; more tears stained the blindfold. You could handle this; they should be done soon; they needed this.

You couldn’t save that girl; the least you could do was help your boyfriends feel better.

“Pathetic worthless girl~ all you’re good for is this.” Gojo yanked your hair, and you saw splatters of blood. You were worthless at that moment.

A sharp sting from the riding crop. “Yeah, a good-for-nothing slut. All you’re good for is being our personal cock sleeve.” Good for nothing, yeah, you just let that girl die.

“Fucking stupid bitch.” The dark-haired man watched as Satoru’s face scrunched up in pleasure. “You're going to make him cum.” Long fingers trailed under the twisted ropes, yanking them hard. “That’s all you’re good for bitch.”

The ropes burned, digging into your flesh. Slicing into you like—like the girl you let die.

Suguru was the first to notice something was wrong. Your hands were pale. They trembled along with the rest of your body. He tossed the riding crop to the side, his dark eyes focusing on his white-haired boyfriend, who was still in utter bliss.

“Satoru.” His voice wasn’t filled with the same heated lust from before, and you noticed. “Stop, pull out.”

Satoru was about to complain, but as he peered at Suguru with half-lidded eyes, he knew he was serious. He listened to both of them pulling out of your mouth and pussy, watching as you coughed and gagged before those gags turned into wretched sobs. You curled in on yourself, sobbing louder. Images of blood, the morgue table, and blood spinning down a sink flashed through your mind.

The boys jumped into action instantly. They removed the blindfold and the bindings around you, allowing you to curl into a fetal position. They watched your trembling body before looking at each other, mentally asking the other what they should do. But it was you who spoke first.

“I-I’m sorry!” A broken cry sounded from the back of your throat.

Satoru gently pulled you into his arms, leaning against the bed's headboard. You sobbed into his chest while Suguru gently rubbed your back. Both of them were silent as you cried two days’ worth of pain out. Guilt seeped into the muscles and none of your body, for the assistant supervisor, for ruining the mood, for being so weak.

“Don’t. Please don’t apologize,” Suguru whispered, leaning down and kissing your cheek. “You have nothing to apologize for.”

“This is on us. We went way too far.” Satoru added his hands, gently massaging your shoulders.

You babbled into his chest as your other hand grabbed Suguru’s, holding it tight. “I-I messed up this week! And now this!” You could feel both of their muscles tensing at your words.

“What do you—”

“Mean you messed up?”

The events of yesterday spewed out of you like a water fountain. You sobbed, going over the details while both men gently caressed and listened to you in silence. The moment you finished spilling out your guts, Satoru and Suguru shared a look.

“And I didn’t make it any better.” You sniffled, looking up at Satoru. Ivory cheeks were flushed as he ran his hand through his hair. “Telling you I didn’t want to be near you.”

Suguru let out a cold, harsh chuckle. “I wasn’t any better. I told Y/N I didn’t have the time nor the patience to entertain her.” You hummed, relaxing against the duo, feeling more calm than you had in the last twenty-four hours.

“Then we were too rough. I feel like a total dick

“Same here,” Suguru planted a kiss on your shoulder, his hand gently rubbing your arm. “What can we do to make it up to you?”

“I’m honestly so tired. I just want to snuggle in bed.”

Your request wasn’t ignored. They both got up; Suguru changed the sheets and picked up Satoru’s room. While you stood under the hot water in the shower, Satoru gently washed your hair. Long fingers massaging your scalp before the curtain opened and Suguru stepped in behind you. Their hands gently slid over your slicked skin. Washing, massaging, and worshiping you.

Their sweet caresses made your eyes heavier as the tense, sore muscles relaxed. While you longed to take care of their needs most of the time. Being held like this, sandwiched between the two strongest sorcerers in the world, made you feel safer. With them at your side, you knee deep down in your gut that everything would be okay.

After the most relaxing shower you’d ever taken was over, you slid on your pajamas before crawling into bed, collapsing into the plush mattress and expensive Egyptian silk sheets. Satoru crawled in with you as Suguru pulled you to rest on his chest while Satoru spooned you. Their hands were so soft and gentle. Their fingers and warm palms were like your own personal lullaby.

“Shh,” Suguru hushed, “we got you.”

Satoru nodded against your shoulder and the crook of your neck. “You can rest. If you have a nightmare, we’ll be beside you.” Satoru grabbed one hand as Suguru grabbed the other.

“Rest.”

The warmth of their hands in yours had your cold hands finally returning to normal. Sometimes, days could be terrible. Making you question everything you do. You were happy to know your boyfriends would be there to help bring some of the light back into your life. That was something you would firmly be able to stand by and defend, especially when their arms were wrapped so tightly around you.

[holylulusworld]

Valentine reloaded

Summary: Your fiancé breaks your heart on Valentine’s Day out of all days.

Pairing: Mafia!Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader, former!(any male character) x fem!Reader

Warnings: angst, break-up, mentions/implied cheating, fluff, Bucky being the best, flirting

A different kind of Valentine

Bucky pulled the chair for you and whispered soothing words in your ear. He tried to help you forget about what happened earlier that day. “That’s my favorite restaurant, doll. I hope you like it.”

“Oh, I wanted to try it out for so long. But—” You sighed deeply and shook your head. “I like it already. The ambiance is nice, and I like the cute aprons the waitresses are wearing.”

“You have a good eye for details,” Bucky smirked at your flustered state. “Relax, doll. I won’t bite or eat you alive.”

“Maybe I’m into biting,” you retorted and mirrored his smirk. “You never know about people’s kinks until you end up in bed with them.”

Bucky laughed at your attitude. “I like you already.” He said and sat down to have a look at the menu. “What do you like?”

“I like it spicy, wild but with lots of kissing and gentle touches,” you grinned at Bucky. “OH! You meant the food.”

“You are something else,” Bucky snickered and dropped his eyes to the menu. He’d love to hear more about your preferences in the bedroom but decided against it. You were still hurting and tried to hide the pain another man caused with your cockiness. “I’d love to know everything about you.”

“I think you’d get bored, just like him if you knew everything about me,” you whispered. The light in your eyes and the smirk gone you tried to keep yourself together. “Sorry, I didn’t want to ruin your mood.”

“Doll, you are hurting,” Bucky grabbed your hand and squeezed it. “The man you loved broke your heart and left you for some other girl. You can be sad about it.”

“I don’t want to be sad,” suddenly aware that you are at a fancy restaurant, with a very attractive and nice man you shook your head. “He doesn’t deserve a single tear. Whatever we had, he ruined it and I’m not going to let him win. Let’s eat.”

“Let’s eat, Y/N,” Bucky nodded and squeezed your hand before turning his attention back toward the menu. “I’ll go for meat tonight.”

“I knew you were into some meat,” you winked at Bucky and smirked again. “I’ll go for pasta.”

Bucky nodded and called for the waiter. You ordered your food and released one last sigh. This night should’ve been special for you and your now ex-fiancé. All you wanted was to make him happy. And now you realize, it should’ve been him trying to make you happy for once.

“What do you want for dessert?” Bucky asked, watching you with concern. You were lost in thoughts, and he tried to bring you out of your intrusive thoughts. 

“Can you recommend anything?” You asked and looked at Bucky, taking your time to drink his features in. Just now you recognized his eyes, bluer than the ocean you longed to see again for the longest time.

“Doll, you can order whatever your heart desires. My treat,” he softly said. “What do you like? I like the awfully sweet stuff.”

“Sweet,” you giggled. “Really? I thought you were more into the manly kind of dessert.”

“I’m man enough to admit that I like sweet desserts and to caress a woman. All these testosterone-driven wanna-be men are fake. A real man can admit his feelings and make sweet love to a woman.”

“You are laying on thick, huh?” You smiled at Bucky. “I like a man who can manhandle me but make sweet love afterward. The perfect combination of roughness and softness.”

“Y/N, you are making it hard for me to be a gentleman,” Bucky cleared his throat and tried to ignore the desire growing in his pants. He’d love to get to know you better before devouring you. 

“Well, you started this, Sir,” you pointed your finger at Bucky. “You cannot talk about your qualities and expect me to not fall for you.”

He chuckled at your words. “I’m warning you, Y/N. If you want me to, I’ll make you fall for me so hard you’ll not even recognize that I put a ring on your finger before you are walking down the aisle.”

“A shotgun wedding then?” You challenge. “I bet you look even better in a smoking. Let me just get a nice dress and we can drive into the sunset.”

“What will you do if I kidnap you and make you my wife?”

You shrugged. “What’s the worst thing that could happen to me? If you wanted to hurt me, you had more than one chance to do so.”

“You are tempting me, doll,” he laughed and tried to play it cool. Bucky was mesmerized by you the moment you slapped him with your clutch. No one ever dared to lay hands on James Buchanan Barnes. Everyone fears the ruthless mobster. “I can still kidnap you after dinner.”

“Good plan, Sir,” you winked at Bucky, feeling a weight get lifted off of your chest. Somehow being around this stranger, you just met helped you forget about your ex-fiancé and his betrayal. “I’m starving and can’t marry a man on an empty stomach.”

“A very good plan, Y/N,” he smiled at you. “Let’s make this dinner worth your time, sweetness.”

Dinner was pleasant. You ate, drank, and chatted with Bucky. Honestly, you didn’t have so much fun for the longest time. 

You soon find out that Bucky is easy to talk to. He never judged you or made a face when you ordered the most expensive and delicious dessert you ever ate.

He simply enjoyed your presence and the fact that he made you smile more than once.

When it was time to pay, he refused to let you pay a single buck. It was his pleasure to invite you. 

Bucky helped you into your jacket and held the door open for you. You walked next to him, feeling hope bloom in your chest when he suddenly grabbed your hand to hold it.

“That okay?” He murmured. “If not, just say it. I don’t want to overstep.”

“I overstepped by slapping you, Bucky,” you stopped in your tracks to look at him. “You didn’t deserve the slap, or to get yelled at. I’m sorry.”

“Doll, I’ll give you reason in the future to yell at me. Believe me, I’m no saint,” he grinned and wrapped you in a hug. “But I make up for it in the bedroom.”

“Bucky,” you slapped his chest and giggled. “Can we…do this again?” You asked. “I pay next time. I mean…can we go out together or have coffee?”

“We sure will, Y/N,” Bucky said and slung one arm around your shoulder. “Or we could just get married tonight.”

“You’re not funny,” you teased but leaned your head against his shoulder. “Thank you for tonight. You don’t even know me but tried to cheer me up.”

“All for a pretty and sweet dame like you,” he simply said and walked you toward his car. “I’ll drive you home, and make sure you sleep well. I won’t leave you alone tonight.”

Bucky kept his promise and settled on your couch. He knows how hard it is to get your heart broken by the person who should love you the most.

Even though he just met you, Bucky felt responsible for you. That his heart was beating a little too fast close to you didn’t help.

“Fuck,” you sniffled while walking back out of the bedroom, rubbing your tired eyes. “Sorry, I didn’t want to wake you.”

“Hey,” Bucky got up from the couch to wrap you in his arms when you started to cry again. “We agreed on not crying over that bastard. Didn’t we?”

You nodded against him. “Yeah.”

“What do you need me to do?”

“Can you hold me for a while?” You hid your face in his chest. “Please.”

“Of course, doll.” He softly replied. Bucky wanted to tell you that he would hold you for all your life if you allowed him to do so. “Let’s get you to bed. I won’t leave your side.”

Best Valentine ever

Tags in reblog.

[punkshort]

i’m the anon who asked about the request! if you decide to do it, i’d absolutely wait forever😂 it’s very angsty tho, so the idea was for outbreak joel who doesn’t get the happy ending. reader who was head over heels in love coping with his death, maybe flashbacks to show the moments of reader seeing him die? idkidk the idea is very vague, sorry if it’s too sad!! if so maybe reader seeing him die was just a terrible nightmare & he’s there waking them up & helping them through a meltdown?

i’ve been craving for some emotional torture for wtv reason😭😭 thank you for even considering requests!🫶🏾🫶🏾🫶🏾

Thank you for this request! It's my first one, so I hope you enjoy it. Also, I had to take the out you gave me and make this a nightmare because I am a big ol' softie and I won't apologize for it, but I will apologize for taking so long to write it 😂

I hate when you're right

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: After a heated argument with Joel, you finally convince him into leaving Jackson so you could explore a store for new clothes, and what happens could change your life forever.

Warnings: major character (Joel) death - but it is just a nightmare - don't read if you think that will still upset you, angst, language, violence, descriptions of blood/gore/death scene

WC: 2.5K

dividers by the one and only @saradika-graphics

You knew it was childish. You knew it wasn't essential. But you also desperately wanted to feel more comfortable, and was that really such a crime? To want to feel like yourself again? To want to wear clothes that you liked? That fit you properly? Jackson was well stocked with essentials, clothes included, but the clothes the men picked up on patrol were... utilitarian, to say the least. They grabbed the biggest and the warmest clothes so that it afforded more people the opportunity to use them, but you were beginning to grow tired of tucking men's oversized shirts into your pants, the material bunching up at your waist and twisting around as you walked, constantly trying and failing to feel comfortable in your own skin.

You thought Joel would be more open to the idea of heading outside the walls on your day off. You even teased him with the promise of picking up some new underwear, but he didn't fall for it. He fought you tooth and nail the whole evening, his voice lifting over yours angrily to explain how there's been an influx of raiders the past few weeks, that everyone agreed to lay low until they passed through, not wanting to draw attention or pick any unwanted fights. But you persisted. You always did, and you eventually wore him down when you threatened to leave without him.

Why was it such a crime to want to feel comfortable? It was just two people, you could lay low and go unseen, no problem. You've done it countless times before.

You had hoped he would have gotten over it by morning, but you were wrong. He hardly made eye contact with you during breakfast, skirting expertly around you in your kitchen, mumbling under his breath as he sipped his coffee and only shooting you angry looks when your back was turned.

The air was crisp and the woods were peaceful. You thought that would surely turn his mood around. He always appreciated being out with nature, living off the land. As much as he loved living in Jackson, he couldn't deny that part of himself that felt useful, that felt a sense of accomplishment by surviving out in the wild.

"C'mon, are you really gonna act like this all day?" you teased as you held up another shirt against your body before determining it was the right size and then tossed it in a pile with the others.

He was standing at the storefront window with his arms crossed and his jaw clenched. "Don't know what you mean."

You rolled your eyes and looked around the store, spotting a table of underwear with a grin. You lightly skipped over and tossed to the side the pairs that looked far too dusty so you could look at the ones underneath. Clearing your throat, you held up a pair of bright red stain underwear. He turned around and you saw it: it was fast, he hid it well, but you still saw it. That all too familiar excited look in his eye.

"Don't you like them?" you asked with a playful pout. He furrowed his brow at you like he was annoyed, and maybe he was, but you still saw the heat beginning to crawl up his neck.

"They ain't practical."

You gave him a defeated sigh and strolled over to your pile of clothes, your fingertips daintily holding the undergarment out to him. "No? Then what are they?"

His eyes shifted from yours to the red material in your hand and you saw his throat work as he swallowed.

"Useless," he croaked, and you narrowed your eyes at him. You got a little closer, letting the soft fabric glide against the back of his hand when you dropped your arm to your side.

"Oh, yeah?" you said breathily, and you watched his eyelids flutter at your tone. "Then I guess it wouldn't matter if I brought them home and let you rip them off me."

He stepped forward, a growl emitting from his chest, low and deep, when at the exact same time, you both heard shouting outside the store. Swiveling both your heads towards the glass storefront, your blood ran cold when you saw six heavily armed men advancing towards you.

"Shit," he muttered, his arm pulling your shoulder down just in time to avoid the cascade of bullets that rained down upon you. You laid face down on the rough carpet, covering the back of your head with your eyes squeezed shut, waiting for the shooting to stop. Joel tugged on your arm and you opened your eyes in a panic.

"Follow me!" he shouted, army crawling towards the registers, and you dutifully followed behind, your heart racing wildly in your chest.

Once you made it, the counter offering some, but not much, safety, the both of you pulled out your guns and double checked your ammo.

"Alright, when they stop to reload-"

"I know," you said, cutting him off. You've both been in this situation before. You knew what to do.

Holding your rifle upright and against your chest, you breathed deep, trying to steady your hands until the bullets slowed and you heard more shouting. Joel nodded to you and you both sprung up from the floor, pulling your rifles against your bodies in sync and lining up your targets.

Patience is a virtue. The amount of ammunition they wasted on the two of you was laughable when you each caught one of them between the eyes, leaving four against two.

You thought you would be able to get another shot off but Joel tugged your arm and you slinked back to the floor as a shower of bullets rained over you once again.

"You good?" he asked, and you nodded, gasping for air. Your hands began to stabilize when the shock wore off. You were in the zone.

Pressing both your backs against the small counter, you remained calm and waited out your attackers. Glass shards tinkled and scattered behind you. Bullets pinged against the metal shelving, ricocheting into the drywall.

"Assault rifles for two people? Really?" you muttered, more so to yourself, but Joel heard you.

"Told you this was a bad fuckin' idea," he said angrily.

When there was another brief pause, he looked to you again and nodded. At the same time, you rose up and took aim, firing on your attackers once again. Joel made his shot, you didn't. Three down, three to go.

"Fuck," you grumbled, reloading your rifle even though you still had rounds left.

"Focus," he scolded.

The men sounded like they were getting closer. Their voices were louder. Clearer. The shots were deafening. You prayed they weren't inside the store, because you hadn't planned an exit strategy. Without warning, Joel stood up and fired a shot. You heard a man scream and then a loud thud. It sounded like the man was just on the other side of the counter.

"That's not the plan," you seethed at him when he dropped back down next to you.

"Didn't have a choice, he was 'bout to jump us," he sneered.

Two against two.

When the shots slowed down, you held your breath, looking at Joel from the corner of your eye. He held his palm up to you silently, signaling for you to stay where you were. You heard boots crunching slowly against glass and your heart leapt into your throat. They were in the store.

You shot Joel a panicked look but he just shook his head, focusing on their footsteps, calculating how far away they were.

"Come out now and no one gets hurt," a man's deep voice called out. He was close.

Joel clenched his jaw and flared his nostrils. You knew that look. It was the look of a man who was about to do something stupid. But before you could stop him, before you could reach out to him and hold him back, he stood up and took aim.

One shot. That was all you heard when Joel slumped to the floor next to you, clutching his stomach as dark red blood poured from the wound. Your eyes went wide and you saw red. Without thinking, you stood up and shot, taking one of the two men down with a yelp. The remaining raider ducked behind a display, and you dropped your rifle in favor of your handgun. Crouching low to the ground, you inched forward, careful of any broken glass that would give your position away. When you were on the other side of the display, you heard the man's labored breaths. He was scared. He was out of his element. And you had him right where you wanted him.

Silently tucking the gun in the back of your pants, you slid your hunting knife out from your ankle holster. You took a deep breath and lunged forward, driving the knife deep into the man's chest.

He dropped his gun and clutched weakly at your hands, but it was no use. His blood poured from the wound when you yanked your knife out with a grunt, and you watched as his hands slowly slid back down to his sides, his eyes still wide open and staring up at the ceiling.

You smirked, feeling victorious for only a moment before you remembered Joel. Dropping your knife, you rushed back to his side, only to find his face pale and his hands stained dark red.

"Joel!" you cried out, pressing your palms against the wound, hoping to slow the bleeding. His eyes drifted towards you, softening when he saw you were alive and unharmed. That you were going to make it.

Panic consumed you. Your heart was slamming against your ribs as you fumbled with your backpack, trying to find your first aid kit through the tears.

"I love you," he whispered, and you shook your head.

"Don't start with that, you're gonna be fine."

"Baby," he said weakly, and you choked back a sob.

"Hold on," you told him, still searching in your pack.

"Look at me," he said, and your hands stilled for a moment before you dragged your eyes back to him, your lower lip trembling as you took in his deteriorating state.

"I need to-" you began, but stopped to take in a shaky breath. "I need to patch you up and get you to the horses."

"No, you don't," he said softly, and more tears spilled from your eyes.

"Yes, I do. I gotta-"

"I ain't gonna make it, sweetheart," he slurred, and you could see by the amount of blood he was losing that he was right. But still, you pressed your palms against the gunshot wound, your fingers slipping through his thick and sticky blood.

"Don't say that. I can't do this without you," you whimpered, and closed your eyes for a brief moment. You felt his fingertips weakly grip your chin and you forced your eyes back open.

"Yes, you can," he said as firmly as he could. He was so pale and weak and it was making your stomach turn.

You shook your head, about to argue with him, but he stopped you.

"You keep goin', you hear me?" he said, and still, you shook your head from side to side, small sobs slipping past your lips. "Don't let this world win. You... go on and keep fightin'. Please. Be happy, baby. For me."

"No!" you cried out, spittle dripping from your lips now, mixing with your tears. "I won't! I-I can't!"

"You can," he repeated, and gave you a weak smile. "I'm ready, baby. It'll be okay."

You squeezed your eyes shut tight, the tears leaking out, hot and angry on your cheeks as you sobbed over him, clutching his hand in yours so tightly, like if you squeezed hard enough, you could give him your lifeforce. Give him your breath. But moments later, his grip weakened and when you opened your eyes, his head slumped to the side and his lifeless eyes stared off into the distance.

"Joel!" you screamed, sitting up in bed, drenched in sweat with tears still streaming down your face. You looked to your side, where he normally slept, but he wasn't there. Panic squeezed your throat, your chest fucking hurt, but you flung the blankets off you and ran towards the door. Still not hearing any sounds, you raced down the stairs, almost tripping in the process but you had a grip on the railing to keep you steady.

When your eyes finally landed on his familiar form stretched out on the couch, his back to you, you allowed yourself to breathe a sigh of relief.

Reality came back to you now. You had your fight about leaving Jackson, but he won and you slept apart. You never left. He never got shot. It was all just a horrible dream.

You stumbled over to the couch, your tears unstoppable, the nightmare too vivid, too real. Your trembling hands clutched his shoulder as you fell to your knees on the floor, shaking him awake.

"What?" he grumbled, clearly still pissed off about your fight.

"I'm sorry!" you sobbed loudly, and when he realized something was wrong, he whipped around to face you.

"What happened?" he asked, his voice still thick with sleep.

"I-I had-" you began, then you hiccupped, cutting yourself off. His face was etched with concern as he forced himself up and cupped your face.

"C'mon, talk to me," he urged, the fear in his eyes reflecting back to you as you looked at him, still not sure what was real and what wasn't.

"I had a nightmare," you finally managed to get out. "About our fight. That we... we went out like I wanted and-and-" you collapsed into another fit of sobs, your shoulders shaking violently.

"Hey, it's alright," he soothed, pulling you up and into his lap and rubbing your back. You pressed your tear stained face into his neck, inhaling deeply, grounding yourself. He was alive. He was here. Everything was fine.

"I'm sorry," you whimpered, your throat still tight but your tears were slowing down. "I'm sorry we fought. I don't wanna go out anymore. I don't need new clothes, it was stupid, I'm sorry."

"Shh, it's okay," he said, pulling you tightly against his chest, "I'm sorry we fought, too. I just wanna keep us safe."

"I know, you're right," you said, pulling back a bit and wiping your nose with the back of your hand. "Will you come back to bed?"

"Yeah," he replied with half a smirk. "'Course I'll come back to bed, baby. Don't cry, it's alright."

You let him lead you up the stairs and to your bedroom, your side of the bed still damp with sweat but it didn't bother you. Joel was safe and sound and in your arms and you didn't care if you had to wear a potato sack for the rest of your life, as long as you had Joel, nothing else mattered.

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[littlejuicebox]

Milk.

Back again for the third time today, this time with some porn with a plot.

I'm really on one with the Dadstarion fics. Something has been unleashed inside me, people.

I need to edit all these headers at some point.

Warnings: babies, angst w comfort, smut, nipple play, breast milk, breast milk drinking, breeding kink, daddy kink, teasing, dirty talk, a bit of soft dom Astarion vibes, 18+ only please

A/N: Most of you already know I'm a degenerate.

-----

Astarion had been uncharacteristically melancholy this week.

Sure, it wasn’t unusual to witness him in one of his moods of irritation or frustration, particularly when some business deal or another was not going particularly well, or a contract he’d already drafted more times than he could count came back to him with more rebuttals.

But to witness this cloud of sadness around your husband, especially after Gale’s birth, was odd. He’d been the picture of domestic joy and fatherhood, completely over the moon in his new role. He even wore the sleeplessness better than you in the first few months, happy to assist where he could so that his little love could get more valuable rest.

However, just recently, his mood had become detached and distant. Everything he did and said seemed tinged with worry or sadness. It reminded you of the spawn version of Astarion from several years ago, almost always caught in a poor memory or concerning line of thought. That version of Astarion hadn’t shown up in a while. You couldn’t be sure what triggered it.

“Gale’s getting quite good at holding his head up,” You inform your husband as you crawl into bed with him after just putting the three-month-old down for the evening.

“That’s wonderful news, darling.” Astarion replies, with that same distant, pensive air he’s addressed you with all week as he focuses on the book in his lap.

You sigh, and put your hand over the book, obscuring the pages and forcing the elf to acknowledge you, “What is it, Astarion? You’ve been in this… mood all week and I’m beginning to worry you’re regretting parenthood.”

Your husband’s eyebrows crinkle as he places the book on his nightstand, staring at you with a mixture of shock, hurt and confusion, “Darling, do you truly think that? What have I done besides absolutely dote on Gale? And on you!”

You realize you’ve misspoken. You see the wounds on your husband’s face as he assesses you, and your hands come to his cheeks, searching his eyes, “No, no I didn’t mean it like that. I’m sorry. I know you don’t regret Gale… I just. I’m worried, Astarion. You seem… sad. Lost in thought in a way I haven’t seen in years and… I don’t know why.”

There is a moment of silence as Astarion’s eyes flash through several thoughts, filtering through a week's worth of garbled noise within his mind. And then he sighs, “I…” he pauses and blinks, forcing himself to meet your gaze, “I’m worried that I won’t be the right masculine role model for Gale. That I’m not strong enough to show him… to show him how to be a good man.”

Your mouth falls open in shock. You cannot even think of something to say, because this certainly wasn’t the direction you thought Astarion would take. He was always quite self-assured in his talents and never hesitant to be the true version of himself after the parasite fiasco over a decade ago.

He continues, “I don’t live in the woods, or whatever it is exactly Halsin does. I’m not an especially talented spell caster like Gale. And I’m fair with a blade but it’s been years since I’ve had use for one and I don’t have the level of training nor regular practice like Wyll nowadays, dear. I review contracts and make investments; I run the winery. I embroider. I’m not exactly the picture of masculinity in comparison to… others.”

There is a moment of quiet between the two of you. Concerned tears form in your husband’s eyes, which he quickly blinks away.

“Astarion… you are the strongest man I know.” You murmur, running a finger along the elf’s cheek as he scoffs and shakes his head. His eyes jerk away from your face; clearly, he does not believe you.

You gasp in shock as you cup his face harder, willing the elf to understand how serious you are. You continue, vehemently, “My love. You cannot seriously believe otherwise! You have endured more than any of us could ever imagine. Over 200 years of… horrible atrocities. And then you came out on the other side of that, after having sacrificed so much — and Astarion, do not ever forget how much you willingly sacrificed — to be better. To choose differently. To be so much more.”

You are ripping the blankets away and crawling into your husband’s lap now, wrapping your limbs around his torso. His head comes to the side of your neck as you hold him, hoping to convey the love and respect you have for the elf with the warmth of your arms. Your fingers latch into the curls on the back of his neck as you speak in a reverent whisper, urging him to believe you.

“I watched you endure years without the sun in more stride than I could have possibly thought. And you are perhaps softer than you were when we met, yes. But this version of you gives me and Gale everything we need and more. I cannot imagine someone stronger or more courageous than you, my love. And I think you have forgotten how much strength it took for you to become this soft in the first place. I love this version of you. And Gale has a wonderful, loving, strong father in this version. Please do not ever doubt that.”

A quiet hum of acknowledgement comes from your husband, but no other words escape him as he lifts his head from the crook of your neck and envelopes your lips in a soft kiss. A thank you.

Your heart is pounding from the passion with which you spoke, and when Astarion’s lips press into yours, that passion and love begins to flow throughout your body. Pieces of you start to wake.

It had been a while since you two were intimate. Not since before Gale's birth. Days and nights had recently been filled with parenthood and left little time nor energy for much else. But as Astarion pushes forward, wrapping his arms around your back, you feel the stirrings of desire deep in your core. A soft moan leaves you as a fire begins to grow where mere glowing embers had been left several months ago.

Astarion must be feeling the same pull, because his hand trails from your back and sneaks under your nightdress to brush along your thigh. He slowly traces up the length of your leg to cup your bottom while he deepens the kiss with a soft, breathy moan of his own. He’s flexing his hips up toward you, the growing bulge in his trousers begging for further stimulation. Your lover’s tongue swipes along your lower lip, asking for entry, and your mouth opens to accept the swirling heat of desire from the elf.

He explores your mouth and caresses your bottom for a while, tenderly, slowly, and in no rush to further things along despite the mutual growing desire between your two bodies. It’s you that finally breaks the kiss before ripping your night dress over your head, exposing two heavy, milk-laden breasts in the process. Astarion brings the hand not kneading into your ass to cup your breast before thumbing the pert nipple.

You gasp, and your husband’s brows crinkle for a moment as he pauses his ministrations.

“Too sensitive?” He asks, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your other breast.

“No, keep going,” You urge him, closing your eyes and rolling your hips forward to grind into his groin. He bucks forward to meet you instinctively.

He tentatively thumbs the nipple again and you moan in response. Without thinking much about it, Astarion brings his mouth to the other breast and wraps his lips around the bud before sucking gently. You release an ecstatic keen in response when his teeth graze against the tender flesh. You are continuing to roll your hips into him when he suddenly retracts from your chest with a shocked gasp.

Your eyes snap open, and you catch the final glimpse of your husband wiping breast milk from the side of his mouth as his cheeks and ears slowly turn pink. And then you feel your own embarrassment growing as rosy patches flush across your chest and cheeks. You quickly move to cover your breasts.

“I-I’m sorry,” You whisper, “it slipped my mind. I forgot about the…”

You’re thinking the moment’s ruined, and moving to climb off your husband, but he quietly brings his hand to your waist and stills you. His eyes search yours silently for a moment, and you’re still so consumed by your own embarrassment that all you can do is stare dumbly back at him, eyebrows furrowed.

But then Astarion lifts one of his hands to your own, slowly lowering it from where it had been covering your breast. He keeps his eyes locked on yours as he once again leans forward and wraps his lips around the nipple, sucking gently. Warm milk flows into his mouth and you inhale sharply, unable to look away as your husband removes his lips from your breast, opens his mouth to show you the white liquid, and then closes his mouth and swallows.

He swallows.

And then he smirks up at you with a self-satisfied, mischievous glint in his eyes that causes the slickness between your legs to instantly double.

Gods, this man.

You are convinced your entire body is flushing red at this point as Astarion slowly brings his other hand up to palm the flesh of your breast.

“Would you like daddy to do it again?” He purrs before his tongue laps circles around the side of your heavy tit.

“I— gods, yes.” You respond, blinking down at the elf.

“Okay. But you have to ask me very, very nicely, little love.” He responds teasingly as he trails kisses to your other breast, waiting for you to say something.

“Please suck my nipple,” You whisper, eagerly rolling your groin into your husband's raging erection.

But Astarion doesn’t do what he’s asked. Instead, he’s teasing the bud with the flat of his tongue and humming contentedly, waiting for something from you.

“Please suck my nipple, daddy.” You amend, and the elf instantly engages his lips around your other breast with a soft groan. He’s drinking with vigor as your hands find the curls at the nape of his neck and take hold. Before long he’s retracting again, his mouth full of liquid gold.

And he pulls the same maneuver. Mouth open, flashing the white liquid as he looks directly into your eyes. Mouth closed. Swallow. Devious smile.

“It’s delicious, you know.” He murmurs as you stare at him, still in shock and still somewhat embarrassed by the fact that you are actually enjoying this. His hands come to either breast, both now significantly lighter, and he fondles the soft tissue.

“You shouldn’t be so surprised that you like this darling, I distinctly remember a time when I made you orgasm by mere nipple play alone.” He whispers, a glint of that cocky rogue playing across his face before he trails kisses up your chest and along your neck.

“Gods, Astarion,” You respond, “I need you inside me, now.”

You’re done with the foreplay. Your husband has you ridiculously hot and bothered, and it’s been far, far too long. You're on your knees, which are straddled on either side of his hips as you urgently tug at the waistband of his trousers, trying to work his pants and underclothes off in one motion. But your husband is purposely resisting and refusing to lift his hips, watching you with that same arrogant smile.

Oh, he's toying with you.

“Darling, why am I always the one dirty talking you?” He asks, pulling back from your neck and cocking his head just slightly as he studies your face.

“I— what?” You ask, still pulling insistently at his waistband.

“I’m always the one charming the pants off of you, dear. In over ten years, it’s never really been the other way around. But you know that I love to hear your beautiful words.” He continues, moving one of his hands to stroke between your still-clothed folds.

“Astarion, please fuck me.” You try as you struggle to keep your composure. The slickness of your cunt is making obscene noises as he expertly maneuvers between your slit, watching your expression attentively as you come undone.

He chuckles darkly as he brings his lips to your breast once again, trailing kisses along the side of the flesh, “I think you can do better than that, my love.”

You groan in dismay as the bastard continues to tease you. Several months without sex and somehow you’re still the desperate one while he’s effortlessly maintaining his cool.

“What do you want daddy to do to you, darling?” He purrs, teasingly, as his other hand that isn’t stroking between your legs trails across your skin to fondle your ass once again.

“I want you to fuck me and fill me with your seed.” You whine as his ministrations on your clit become more insistent. You’re trying to play into his desires, to convince him to stretch you open with his thick cock.

Your legs are trembling now. He’s going to make you come embarrassingly fast. You know it. He knows it.

“Won’t you beg me, my love?” He murmurs as his eyes trail across your chest, admiring your larger-than-usual breasts before his gaze locks back onto yours, fingers still strumming your clit, now adding more pressure, “You know I love to hear your sweet little pleas.”

“Please— Astarion. Please, daddy. Please fuck me. Breed me like your good little wife and fill me with—“

You gasp and then moan as your orgasm rips through you with little warning, drenching your husband’s hand in your arousal. The release causes your legs to turn into jelly, and Astarion uses the opportunity to quickly maneuver you into a new position. You are sitting on the side of the bed, and he is now standing, quickly lowering his trousers.

His cock springs free, and the sight causes your eyes to widen in shock. It’s so engorged that the head is slowly turning from that gorgeous pink to a deep purple, begging for release. Thin rivulets of pre-cum are falling in strings from the tip; much of his shaft is glistening from the same evidence of his arousal.

Astarion glances down at his own erection and then warns, “It’s been a while darling, not quite certain how long I will last.”

“Just get inside me already, daddy.” You plead and that’s enough to make your husband growl as he strokes his own member once, twice, prepping himself. He peels your drenched undergarments down your legs and tosses them aside.

As Astarion’s cock slides between your folds you gasp. Gods, it really has been too long. And then he’s pressing into you slowly, groaning deeply with the amount of effort it’s taking him to not release his spend right upon entry into your tight cunt. When he reaches the hilt, the elf stills for a moment and lowers himself down to kiss your lips before pressing his forehead against yours. And then Astarion is slowly rolling his hips, his mouth hanging open in a gasp at the delicious sensation of your walls clenching around him before he closes his eyes to focus.

It isn’t long before he's losing control. Your husband normally prides himself on being a consummate lover; it’s quite typical that he brings you to orgasm twice before finding his own release. But it has been quite some time and perhaps holding off in an attempt to hear your pleas wasn’t as easy for him as it appeared on the outside.

“Gods, darling. You feel so perfect.” The elf pants, almost breathless, his hips stuttering as he jerkily thrusts into you, trying and failing to maintain some rhythm as the pleasure overwhelms him, “So perfectly wet and tight.”

“Come inside me, daddy.” You whisper as you bring your hand to the side of Astarion’s face.

The command shocks him. Like you, he’s suddenly coming with very little warning. His eyes rip open as he’s spilling into you with a loud groan, his cock jerking inside your walls where he’s instinctively buried himself to the hilt.

“Fuck-- gods, Tav--" He hisses through the waves of pleasure racking his body as his eyes roll back. His thighs are trembling as his member continues to throb, spilling several streams of hot, thick seed into you as you watch his face in awe. Mouth agape, cheeks flushed. You love the way he looks when he loses control.

You smile and kiss your husband gently as he comes down from his high, your hand stroking his cheek. And then he’s laughing and pressing his forehead back against yours. A few of his curls fall haphazardly and you reach up to lovingly comb them back into place.

“You are… still full of surprises, aren’t you?” Astarion asks as he slowly withdraws from you, causing the slickness from your lovemaking to run down your thighs and into the sheets.

“I thought you would like it,” You offer shyly, now somewhat embarrassed at your own crassness as the tides of passion recede.

“Oh, I certainly did, darling.” Your lover reassures you as he bends down to retrieve his trousers from the floor, "You cheeky little degenerate."

Just then, Gale lets out a sharp cry from the nursery. You move to stand up, but your husband stops you with a gentle hand and a soft, adoring smile.

“I’ll go and get him. Don’t waste the seed still inside you, dear. Give it a few more precious moments to try and do its thing, hm?” Astarion says, partly teasing and partly serious as he shoots you a wink before heading out the bedroom door to retrieve the infant.

This one won’t take, you know as much. You aren’t ovulating. But as you watch the love of your life exit the room on his way to retrieve the other love of your life, you think you may actually be ready to start trying for another one sometime soon. You know Astarion is simply waiting for your cue.

Anything for daddy. 

[greatooglymooglyyy]

Drowning (Chris Sturniolo)

contains: angst, drinking, verbal fighting, general sadness, a makeup, happy ending, 1.4k+ words

“Girl, what the hell are you thinking?” I snap at my best friend and roommate, Kelsey, as we whisper fight in the kitchen.

“Please, friend. I need you to wingman me. It's way too awkward if it’s just me.” She pleads, grabbing my wrist.

“This looks like a two man, Kels. Chris will kill me if he finds out there are three boys in our apartment.” I say with a sigh.

“Noooo, it’s so innocent.” She insists. “One of the boys is gay, and the other has a girlfriend."

“Kelsey…”

“Pleaseeeeeeee.”

I tilt my head back in defeat, closing my eyes, and pull my arm away from her. “Fine, but let me call Chris.”

She grins and kisses my cheek before grabbing a bottle of vodka and heading back into the living room with the boys.

I call Chris twice, but it goes straight to voicemail. He’s probably filming. I shoot him a text to call me when he’s done, and I head off after my friend.

***********

I throw my head back in laughter as one of the boys completes his dare to pretend to call his mom from jail. They have all actually been really cool so far, and I can tell Kelsey’s crush is feeling her as well.

I look down at my phone as I see Chris’ name flash across the screen. But as soon as I’m about to answer, the boy next to me accidentally knocks his drink over, right onto my phone.

“Fuck!” I say, hopping up and running to the kitchen to dry it off.

“Shit, I am so sorry.” He says, following right behind me.

“It’s okay. Just an accident.” I tell him with a tight smile.

He reaches above my head and grabs rice out of the cabinet and a zip-lock bag. “Here, leave it overnight, and it’ll be fine.” I nod and give him a small smile before dropping my phone in the bag with a sigh. I go back in the living room to Kelsey, my mood a little ruined.

“Can you text Chris that I broke my phone, please? I’m just gonna head up to bed.” I ask her. She frowns and checks the time, but I guess she reads the look on my face and just nods instead of complaining.

“Goodnight guys.” I throw over my shoulder as I head upstairs.

*****************

As soon as I wake up, I have a nagging feeling in my stomach. I head downstairs and, to my shock, see the boys from last night asleep on my couch. I massage my temples, feeling my irritation grow, and slip into the kitchen. “Thank god.” I say, as my phone powers on instead of the black screen I got last night. My stomach drops as I read all of Chris’ worried text from last night. I even have a couple from Nick and Matt.

I click his name to call, and he answers on the second ring.

“Hello?” He rasps, clearly fresh out of sleep.

“Hi, baby. I’m sorry about last night. My phone-”

“Hey, do you have an extra toothbrush?” A deep voice calls from behind me.

Shit. My breath hitches as I wait for Chris’ reaction. But instead, there’s just silence.

I turn to the boy behind me and shake my head, shooing him away, then clear my throat and call Chris’ name.

“There’s just no fucking way you’re that bold.” He says, his voice like steel. “Who the fuck is that?”

“That’s what I was trying to tell you last night.” I say quickly. “Kels invited some friends over. That’s all.”

He’s silent again for a second, so quiet that I double-check that he didn’t hang up.

“So it’s a coincidence that the night there are boys in your apartment, you literally go ghost all night?” He says. His voice is so calm that if I didn’t know better, I’d think he was asking about the weather.

“Chris. I don’t know what you are trying to say, but nothing happened. How stupid do you think I am?”

“I honestly never thought you were stupid at all until right now. Or a fucking liar.” And then all I hear are those three distinct beeps.

***********

I’m laying in bed, watching my comfort show, and trying not to think of watching this same episode with Chris. It’s been a week since he went no contact. I stopped trying after calling back to back for two days straight. I can’t make someone trust me, and I’m not the type to chase a man who’s running. But it doesn’t stop my chest from tightening up when I think of him. When I think about the weight of his head on my chest and the calmness of his presence, it takes all I have not to cry.

I hear a knock on my door, and I sigh. I’ve been avoiding Kelsey, but it’s really not her fault that my boyfriend had no trust in me. I get up, swing the door open, and find her standing there next to Chris.

He looks about as good as I feel. He’s got deep purple bags under his eyes, like he hasn’t been sleeping. I want to pull him into my arms and hold him. I want to wrap my legs around his waist and never let go. But instead, I just stand there with my arms crossed because I don’t know how to love a boy who doesn’t trust me.

“Before you say anything,” Kelsey starts, reading my expression like only she can. “Me and Nick trapped him into hearing me out. I told him how it all went down. And I’m sorry, I played a part in this, but you guys need to talk this out.”

She pushes Chris into the room and slams the door shut behind him before I can even get a word in. And then I’m so close to him, I think it will kill me. I look down at his shoes so I don’t have to meet his eyes as I say, “It’s okay, Chris. You can go.” I feel the heat of his fingers on my face before I feel them. He tilts my head up to his face, and steps very slightly closer.

“I’m sorry.” He says, barely above a whisper. And his words pull me out of my trance, like I’ve had cold water dumped on me. Because I’m not just heartbroken, I’m angry. I’m pissed. I take a big step backwards and give him my most convincing, nonchalant shrug.

“It’s fine. It showed me what kind of person you think I am.” I bite out. He flinches and rubs his hand over his face. When he meets my gaze again, his eyes have a bit of fire in them as well.

“Are you honestly telling me that if I told you this same story, you would believe me, no problem?” He asks with a sarcastic edge to his tone.

I step back toward him, narrowing my eyes. “Maybe not.” I concede. "But I would have heard you out. We would have talked it out. I mean, fuck. Maybe even fought it out. But I would have never disappeared on you. I would never give up on us without a fight. But clearly, you don’t feel the same.” This hits him right where I want it to, and I can tell. Regret and defeat flood his face, and he goes to reach for me before thinking better of it and lowering his arms.

“If I didn’t trust you, it would have never hit this hard. I’ve never done this before. I’ve never had anything I was this scared to lose.” He leans against my door now, and I can tell he’s fighting back tears. I’ve never seen him cry before, and it absolutely guts me. All I want to do is forget all of this. But, my mom always said, to forget is to be a fool, and I need assurance that he's a safe place to land.

Then he meets my eyes again, and I feel all my resolve cave in on itself.

“How do I know you won’t take the next chance you get to run?.” I ask, fighting to keep my voice steady and backing up to sit on the edge of my bed.

"Because I’m telling you I won’t.” He says, following me and then kneeling between my legs. “I know you think I was running away this week, but really I was just drowning without you.”

I loop my finger around his chain and pull him up to eye level. “Never again, Sturniolo.”

“Yes ma’am.” He says with a smile before pressing his lips against mine.

[bangchansgirlsblog]

Ive been imagining this and ik its weird BUT ot8 skz being perv and so obsessed to fem 9th member.. Like they get super jealous and the fem readed being a people pleaser like she cant say no to her friends and cant stand seeing them sad so when the members started to became sexually touchy w her they used that against her and be like "dont u want to see us happy? We've been tired and we just want to relieve some stress.. I thought u can help us.. I guess not" and they pretend to be sad abt it and the reader just felt guilty for not helping her friends so she lets them touch her which led to smut KDNDJFKDJ its weird but idk i die for these kinds of fics

Hands on me?

Warning: Angst, sexual activity, manipulation?

Pairing: polyOT8 x reader.

Summary: Don’t you wanna see us happy baby? They said as they slowly peeled her clothes off.

AUTHORS NOTE: this has been in my requests for a while and I write this when I first started off SO it’s not good at all BUT I’m going to write another one using this same request cause I have another idea AND this was in my drafts for a while so I’m dropping it to clear it.

I hope whoever requested this, enjoys it 🥰

**

"Baby?!" She heard someone call for her from the living room. 

"I'm in here!" She replied. Her hair was up in a pony tail and she was currently wearing shorts and a croptop with no bra on making her look yummy.

She heard a bunch of voices start piling up in the living room meaning that the boys were back home.

A small smile creeped up on her face as she continued to wash up the dishes she had used to cook dinner. She made a big dinner because at the end of the day she was feeding 8 of her boyfriends who were also MEN. 

"Hey love," Han walked into the kitchen. His hair was in a hat and he had his normal hoodie and cargo pants on. "Are you feelings better?" He asked while taking a few steps towards her until he towering her. His breathing was heavy probably from the flight of stairs.

"Mmm, yeah. Just been a long day that's all." She sighed and looked up at him. He had a pout on his face making her coo at how adorable the boy was.

"I missed you," he said in between kisses. 

"Missed you too momo," he rested his head on her shoulder she continued to finish the dishes.Han was always clingy, not more than Felix but it was more than the other boys, that was for sure.

As she finished up she felt His hands slowly wondering around her body then slowly landing on her ass. oh, makes sense. He was horny.

She did love every interaction with her boys, she really did but today she wasn't in the mood at all. She was tired and she had a horrible headache from work. having sex was not on her to-do list but a nap was.

"Do you want me to take care of you?" He whispered in her ear causing shivers to run down her spine. She was sad because she was going to turn him down and she knew how stressed all the boys were, he just wanted have fun.

"Maybe not right now momo, I'm not in the mood," She told him while finishing the last of the dishes and drying her hands. He pouts and lets out a small whimper.

"Have you eaten yet?" She asked him changing the subject.

"Not yet no," he frowned.

"Okay then sit, let me call the other guys to come eat too," She encourage him, "and don't forget to put your dirty clothes in the laundry basket," She tiptoed and gave him a quick kiss before going to the living room to find only Changbin sat while scrolling through his phone.

He was wearing all black and he had his glasses on. His hair was fluffy and curly meaning today he was in the studio all day.

"Binnie?" She walked and sat by him, "what are you doing?"

"Hey baby," he kisses her temple and then her lips, "I was just lacing up my shoes, what about you? How was your day?"

"I'm tired that's all," she pouted, "and my period is coming soon so I'm breaking out!" she exclaimed and crossed her arms causing him to chuckle.

"I mean atleast you look nice," he dropped his shoe and pulled her close to his body, "you look beautiful, pretty, gorgeous, amazing-"

"Okay, okay I get the point," she roll my eyes playfully.

"Hey? Am I not allowed to praise my beautiful girlfriend?" He playfully frowns.

"You are I geuss," she giggled and he couldnt help but pull her onto his lap.

"Then let me praise you huh?" He kisses her cheek and slowly starts moving down her neck. A small moan leaves her mouth.

"B-Binnie, I'm not in the mood, please," she told him.

"Why not? You're always in the mood," he looks confused.

"Not today, just come have lunch yeah?" she give him a peck on the lips and got off him so he could stand up.

"Fine," he huffs. He makes his way to the dining area as she depart6ed and headed to Felix's room

"Felix?" she called while knocking on his door.

"It's open!"

"Hey sunshine, dinner is ready-"

"Hey! no kisses? No hugs?" He frowned and turned around from his desk.

"Oh-" she giggled when she realized and then walked over to him, "Hey lix," she repeated and  gave him a kiss as he automatically pulled her on his lap.

"How's my baby doing?" He asked as his hands wrapped around her waist and he cuddled her body.

"Mm just tired," she sighed.

"Oh my poor baby, should we watch a movie later?" He was craving her. he wanted to spend more time with her because he felt like he had spent so much time with the boys that he was neglecting her.

"Yeah that would be nice but first go get lunch," she forced herself out of his grip but he let out a soft whine due to the lack of touch and well...the bulge that was now very visible through his pants.

"Look what you've done to me," he whined again causing her to laugh at his distraught state.

"Oh oh, you better fix that before you go down,"

"Help me please!" He frowned.

"I'm not in the mood Felix, please."

"Come on pleaseee, it's been a long day. Don't you want to see me happy?"

His eyes were shiny and hungry, it was obvious.

"Fine after dinner," she lied to him so he could get up and he actually believed it.

"Okay okay, I'm running there now!"

He got up from his sit and rushed out the room.

She followed behind him and checked the dining room to see everyone now sitting down including Chan, I.N, Seungmin and leeknow.

She went around to give them quick kisses before returning to her room and changed into just a  huge shirt (that was probably for one of the boys) and underwear.

She turned off all her room lights and entered bed now being able to have a peaceful sleep. A nice, nice qui-

She felt the bed dip and hands wrap around her body. Her eyes open quickly and she saw familiar hands. Chan.

"Channie?"

"Hey babe, I wanted to cuddles," he pouted.

"Fine but no disturbing my sleep," she scolded him and turned so it was easier for him to wrap his arms around her waist.

Her eyes slowly closed once again and she finally thought she was to get some sleep until the door swung wide open and closed quickly, two more people walking in and making themselves comfortable in her bed. Han and I.N. At this point she was so used to it that she just let them stay as they both argued on who was sleeping where.

"Guys if you're going to be in here, you have to be quiet and sleep," She told all of them off. Even if she was getting a little frustrated she scooted up a little so they could all enter the bed.

Not even a few minutes later all the boys were now in her room on her bed piling onto one another under her fluffy blankets. She knew exactly what they wanted when she felt one of their hands massaging her leg.

She let out a sigh, "Such horny dogs!" she groaned.

"Common baby, it's been a long day. Don't you care about us?" Hyunjin teased her in a manipulative manner.

"Just a little fun. Come on please," Han rubbed her leg once more back and forth causing shivered to run down her spine.

"You look good too," Felix complimented her while tugging at her bra strap, "really good." They were basically already peeling her clothes off with their cold ass hands.

She let out a sigh and finally gave in, "F-fine I geuss so," her eyes wonder to Chan who gives her an assuring nod.

//please idk how to write a smut but just imagine the nastiest thing ever happens//

When they were done and the boys were satisfied as Y/n sat on the bed. Her heart was racing from all the action but she was in her own space. Spaced out.

The constant thoughts of the boys using her for their sexual desires made her enter a depressive episode. Yes she enjoyed the sex and the attention but so many emotions were running through her tiny body that she couldn't handle it anymore.

She felt used like a sex toy and the tears in her eyes slowly started to build as she started to breath rapidly. The air in the room getting suddenly thick. Seungmin was in the bathroom running her bath for her after care. The sound of the water falling was the only sort of noise she could hear.

She held her knees against her chest as she tried to calm down. Han's hand wrapped around her waist. As he kissed her temple. "you did so good for us, you know that right babygirl?" he praised but she didnt even notice him in the first place. Her eyes were hazy and completely black and when Han noticed, he gave chan a look. 

"Hey, are you with us?" Chan asked immediately as he pulled up his sweatpants. "Y/n?"

No response.

She was staring at the wall right in-front of her. She felt unloved. She felt tired. She was in pain.

The boys (some of them were still dressing up) all turned to look at her. Her body was still bare and the bruises on her arms were visible.

"Is she going into a trance?" I.N asked panicked. "Chan do something, please,"

"Hey Y/n? Babygirl? It me. Can you hear me?" He walked over to her and grabbed her tiny hands.

"C-channie?" She chocked as She looked up at him. The tears slowly starting to fall.

"Yes my love, it's me. Can you tell me where you are?"

"I'm alone, I'm all alone," she sobbed. "Why am I like this? Why am I so disgusting?" She cried.

"What do you mean Y/n?" He asked shocked.

"I-I want Binnie, I want Binnie now," she said reaching out for him. Changbin did not hesitate. He was right by her side pulling her onto his lap. The rest of the boys understanding what was going on and quickly taking action.

"I'm here princesses, tell me what's wrong," he had no shirt on and the skin to skin was slowly giving her comfort as his body heat was radiating warmth.

"I-do you love me?" She asked. The panic in her voice was clear. She was soon going to get a panic attack. it was building up.

"Ofcourse I love you babydoll, why would you think otherwise?" He questioned while kissing her forehead.

"i- i dont know, please dont be mad at me," She sobbed in his chest. The view was heartbreaking and the boys knew that if they didnt find a way to cheer her up soon it would end up into a full blown panic attack.

"I'm going to make some brownies for her," Felix said because he knew this was the only way he could comfort her on his part. He quickly leaves the room after hesitating for a bit not wanting to leave her.

"I- are you guys using me? For sex?" She cried harder. Her hands held Changbins chest as She struggled to breathe. Their faces were in absolute shock. was this what they made her think? was this all she thought she was to them? 

"Ofcourse not," leeknow knelt down infront of her. He slowly rubbed her thigh. "Jagi, you need to breathe. Can you do that for me?" He asked her. Her body was shaking still. she tried to gasp for air but failed. 

"Listen to me beuatiful, you need to breathe like me....see," he took a deep breathe to demonstrate to her but it was no use. 

"i- i cant breathe," she gasped and let go of changbin to grab her neck. it felt like it was closing up. Her vision was blurry now and the lack of oxygen was getting to her. 

"C-chan?" she gasped as she slowly she started to pass out. Her body giving up on her due to the many emotions.

"come on baby, stay with me," she heard in the distance.

"Guys! call 119,"

***

This is just a fic no one come for me 😔

[miupow]

‧₊˚✩彡 𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞 /ˎˊ˗ 𝚌.𝚢𝚓 *ੈ✩‧

┆ rockstar!choi yeonjun x fem!reader ╰--⪼ one of the hardest things about dating a rockstar is the distance; when he’s on tour he’s thousands of miles away, busy and unable to call, and you spend months alone in a cold counting down the days until he gets home. but your boyfriend put some extra time aside to make a very special video call to his favorite girl.

. . . RATING ! NSFW, MDNFI! . . . WORDS ! 1.7k . . . WARNINGS ! soft dom!yeonjun, daddy kink, lots and lots of pet names, praise kink, sex toys, facetime sex, mutual masturbation, guided masturbation, a little angst in the beginning

for @napofamoon's growing pain rockstar!txt event! this is also a little christmas gift for her and all of my followers~~ thank you to @taegimood and @wolfytae-exe for proofreading!

You purposefully let the call ring out for a bit before answering– you didn’t want him knowing you had been pacing for an hour, waiting impatiently by the phone. 

“Hey beautiful,” Yeonjun croons immediately upon you picking up, pretty bare face filling up the screen of your phone– he must’ve just gotten out of the shower, his hair wet and pushed back, black tank top and flannel overshirt pulled on haphazardly like he had been in a rush… sometimes you hated how he looked so beautiful so effortlessly. It reminded you just how horrifically out of your league he was. “What are you up to? How was your day?”

“Mm.. not much. It’s been boring without you.” You sigh listlessly, giving Yeonjun a tight, unconvincing smile. “I didn’t have work today so Yunjin took me shopping– got some things for the apartment, some new clothes. Waited for you to call. I’m honestly more interested in how you’re doing, babe.”

Yeonjun gives you an apologetic little grin, eyes unreadable– it does nothing but makes you feel worse. At least he was aware he promised to call three hours earlier. “I’m sorry it’s so late, we had a show.”

“I know.” You reply, a little curt. Yeonjun doesn’t have complete control over his own schedule, pushed and pulled around everywhere he goes by both his managers and his other band members, bending over backwards for breaks snuck in between press appearances and shows every time he and his band were on tour… you’ve beat yourself senseless trying not to let it get to you.

“I’m sorry, baby, I really am.” Yeonjun repeated, voice low as he leaned in closer to the camera. “There was a problem with the sound system so our open started an hour late, and then there was a fight in the pit so we had to stop for security to kick them out, and then Beomgyu wanted to get drinks after the show and–” 

“It’s alright, Jjun. I understand.” You cut in, voice soft. Yeonjun gives you a look like he doesn’t quite believe you. “It sounds like you had a busy night… you always have a busy night.”

“Yeah, I’m sure things are real quiet when I’m not around.” Yeonjun gives you one of his signature grins, lopsided and handsome, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Missing me yet?”

He wants you to respond with some snide joke, lighten the mood– Yeonjun’s begging for it, brown eyes nervously flitting across your face as his smile cracks and splinters, but you can’t bring yourself to do it. “So fucking much, Jjun.” you croak, “I miss you so fucking much.”

His face drops immediately, his unconvincing grin giving way to one much more solemn and sad– it makes your stomach churn, unable to stomach the helplesslessness in his eyes. “I miss you too, baby. I’ll be home soon.” 

“But when?” You press, even though you knew you shouldn’t. Conversations over ETAs only ever lead to fights– Yeonjun loved to make promises he knew he couldn’t keep. 

“Soon.” He repeats, his stare hard as he shifts on his hotel bed. “I’ll make it work. I’ll come and see you.” 

You knew he wouldn’t, but he was always such a sweet liar.

The look on your face must have given you away, because Yeonjun gives you a desperate, pleading pout, kissable lips pulled down into a grimace. It tears your heart to pieces. “Just bare with me baby, okay? The tour’s almost over, I’ll be home soon–”

“And then you’ll just go on tour again.” You spit, nastier than you meant for it to come out. The wide-eyed, guilty look Yeonjun gives you makes your heart drop to your stomach; you’re fairly sure you would have felt better if he had just gotten angry with you instead.

The sigh he lets out weighs a ton, settles on both of your shoulders. “Can we just talk about this later? We can talk about this when I get home, just– I love you. You know that, right?”

“I love you too,” You reply in a whisper.

“I love you more than anything in the world, baby, more than this.. stupid fucking job, okay?” You had never heard Yeonjun refer to his career as a “job” before… you weren’t sure what to make of it. “Everything I’m doing right now is for our future together; if I pull this off right we won’t have to work another day in our lives, do you understand? It’s fucking rough right now but we’ll get through it, baby, I know we will. It’s all for you, beautiful.”

“I love you,” you repeat, voice wobbly with unshed tears. You’ve heard this speech a thousand times but it never failed to break you down, make your heart full.

“God, gorgeous, I love you too. My everything. My future. Enough sadness, yeah?”

Yeonjun’s gentle, soft words snaps you out of your reverie, reminds you of your plans before getting lost in your own emotions– you hadn’t wanted this call to go this way at all… in fact, you had wanted it to go a different way entirely. You nod and quickly rub your eyes.

“Jjunie…” you start, still semi-sad voice melodic and now charged with a sweet, playful lilt. “I got you something, when I went shopping earlier…” 

Yeonjun catches your drift fast, his eyebrow raising with a mischievous grin; he was always so in sync with you, always understood your wants and needs like he could read your mind. “Oh? What’d you get me, sugar?”

You giggle, blink away the tears as you smooth your hands over your baggy sweater, play with the hem– you scoot back a bit, letting more of your body come into frame; Yeonjun hisses in a loud breath when he sees that sweater was the only thing you were wearing.. “I dressed myself all pretty for you, daddy– do you wanna see?”

“Fuck,” Yeonjun breathes, leaning even closer to the camera. His pretty brown eyes are blown wide, lids low as he bites at his plush lower lip. “Take it off, let daddy see.”

You’re slow in sliding off your sweater, teasing as you tug it up over your thighs, over your hips– Yeonjun drinks in every inch, hungry eyes locked on your thighs, and he lets out a low, nasty groan from deep in his chest when you reveal to him your pretty lace thong. 

“God, baby, you’re so fucking pretty,” he growls, “Turn around for me.” 

You follow his directions obediently, turn your back to show him your lace-covered ass as you finish peeling off your sweater— the sound Yeonjun makes is unholy, deep and nasty and matching the grin on his face. “Fuck, such a perfect ass. So beautiful.” 

“I miss you, daddy.” you whine, turning back to the camera to show Yeonjun your pout. His lips are gnawed raw, shiny with spit and pretty pink as he takes in greedy eyefuls of your bra-clad tits, coos at you so sweet and condescending. 

“Mm, I miss you too, sugar. Go on; show daddy how much you miss him. Take that bra off ‘n show him those pretty tits, hmm?” 

“Yes, daddy~” you purr, quick to reach behind you for the clasp. You’re teasing in sliding off your bra, let the straps hang off your shoulders for a moment before you take it off entirely. Your perky nipples pucker in the cold air, begging for attention— you know better than to touch without Yeonjun’s permission, however. 

He can read you like a book, knows exactly what you need as you squirm on camera. “Go ahead and touch, my good girl.” 

One hand flies to your breast, tweaking your nipple between your forefinger and thumb; the other moves to rub your clothed clit in tight circles. you let out a breathy moan at the feeling, fight every fiber of yourself to keep your eyes open— you don’t want to miss a single second of watching Yeonjun. He’s breathing heavy, hastily angled the camera down to show you the big bulge in his sweatpants. He strokes himself over the fabric with the lightest of touches, teasing the both of you as he pants into the microphone. “What I would do if I was there...”

“What would you do, daddy?” you ask lightly, feigning innocence, pinching your nipple with a whimper. You’re so wet you’re soaking through your little panties— you’re sure Yeonjun had noticed. 

“God, I’d fuck you so hard. Dressed up so pretty for me, you deserve a reward, fuck— I’d leave those panties on while I bend you over and fuck you good, fill you up with my cum… you’d let me, right angel? Let me breed that little pussy?”

You moan high in your throat, hips stuttering as you continue to circle your clit, play with your bud. “Yes, yes! M-more, daddy, I need more!”

Yeonjun squeezes himself through his sweats, snickers at your fucked-out face. “Oh, baby… how about you go and grab that little vibe you love so much, give daddy a little show?”

You don’t need to be told twice; nodding desperately, you reach for your bedside drawer and pull out your favorite vibrator, thin and pink and powerful enough to make you scream. You settle back into frame, position yourself with your thighs wide apart  so that Yeonjun has a full view of your drooling cunt, the soaked fabric of your thong clinging to your lips obscenely. You feel vulnerable and exposed, and you embrace it as Yeonjun drinks in your form.

Yeonjun’s too impatient to tease you, giving you an affirming nod so you can start running the vibe across your throbbing slit. “Don’t take those panties off,” Yeonjun orders, slowly untying his sweatpants. “Want you to play with yourself with them on, okay?”

You don’t like the sound of that. “But I want my fingers,” you whine, pathetic, “want something inside—“

“Nuh uh,” Yeonjun chastises, pulling his hard pink cock out and giving it a stroke— you hadn’t realized how much you missed it until you saw it again, cockhead flared and dripping precum. “Listen to daddy, baby. Nothing goes in that cunt except my cock, you hear me? Be patient— I’ll fill you up when I come home.”  

And it isn’t until after he’s made you cum in your panties, vibrator on your clit and fingers on your nipples, that he explains why; he has a surprise for you too. 

The rest of the tour was canceled. He’s coming home.