#Even if she doesn't know that right now..deep down she just feels at home next to him

[oathofpromises]

continued from here with @diademreigned

Stella's heart came to a sudden halt, captivated by the sight that unfolded before her as the door gracefully swung open, unveiling the Exarch. To her surprise, amidst the celebration, she found him nestled in his tower, a sight she had not anticipated. Which further signified that she would need to expose the depths of her heart, a feat she had refrained from undertaking since…G'raha.

"I apologize for the interruption... I need to talk to you about something. It's important."

Despite being aware that her words may not have conveyed her true intentions, Stella couldn't help but acknowledge the rapid pace at which her heart was beating upon seeing him. She observed the subtle curve of his lips as they formed a gentle smile. Which made the temptation to lean in and kiss him that much more undeniable. However, there were other things she needed to tell the Exarch before that could happen.

As he graciously stepped aside, granting her entry into his chamber, the Au Ra couldn't help but feel a surge of anticipation, causing her to inhale deeply. A plethora of emotions swirled within her chest, yearning to be released, yet she also desired to know his feelings. It was important to the warrior of light to know that this connection surpassed a mere fling or a manipulation of her emotions, but rather, that he harbored genuine affection for her at an extremely deep level. Suddenly, Stella clearly remembered the words of Lyna from the preceding day, in which the Captain of the guard remarked upon the different manner in which the Exarch conducted himself in the presence of Stella, as opposed to his interactions with others.

'I have never witnessed him displaying such a radiant smile for anyone else, at least not in the same manner as he does when he is with you. I’ve also seen how he maintains his unwavering attention solely on you. Tis evident that the Exarch is captivated by your exquisite beauty. Who would not be. It evokes memories of a painting I once saw on his desk many years ago. When I was just a child. Whenever I would ask about the individual depicted in the painting, he appeared to become immersed in recollections of the past. A lost love. That’s what he had said many times. Even if I don’t fully understand it. What I do know is that he harbors deep affections for you. However, for reasons unbeknownst to anyone, he desires to maintain a certain level of distance between the two of you. Thus chooses to prioritize your safety rather than appearing indifferent.'

Stella knew Lyna was right, but for so long she had convinced herself that perhaps the Exarch only saw her as the Warrior of Darkness. Nothing else existed between the two of them, yet even then, she could see how much he cared for her. The way his fingers would linger just a little longer against hers How his hand felt against the side of her face. The way his lips felt against hers as they lingered just a little bit longer than they knew was okay. It all felt like a repeat of Mako and T'sori: how the two had to hide their feelings from the public eye, which eventually led to their deaths.

"I know this is selfish of me to ask this, as I already am aware there are things you can't talk to me about but for one night. I wanted to convey the emotions deep within my heart. There has only ever been one other person who's moved my heart like this. I mentioned him before. G'raha Tia. I know in my heart I shouldn't feel this way for someone else, yet I can't stop all the things I feel towards you. Please, if you don't feel the same, let's end this before both of us end up hurting. I know that's not the reason you pulled away. You want to protect me, and for some reason you feel we can't close this space between us. You are the advisor to all who live here, and I am the Warrior of Darkness. So many people probably believe it would only cloud our judgment if we accepted what was inside our hearts."

Stella paused as her lips spoke the name G'raha. It hadn't been long since he'd locked himself inside the tower, yet it felt like ages had passed for her. She took a deep breath and went into her pocket, pulling out the crystal flower. If the tales were accurate, it would change hue depending on the emotions of the sender. It may very well expose all of the feelings she had hidden deep within her heart. Could she really let herself be that vulnerable? To cast aside her title and present all she yearned for. To be a normal woman, and allow herself this one thing.

"You are aware of what this flower represents, right? For so long, I pondered who I would give mine to, and the answer was always so obvious. I just couldn’t bring myself to believe that someone else could cause such a stir in my heart. You are the one I chose; whether or not you return those feelings is up to you, but my heart has decided. Like I mentioned in the past, Only one other person has managed to do that, and the truth is, I have no idea how he genuinely felt.

Our time together was short, but despite all the obstacles, I fell in love. My heart is forever his, and yet I couldn’t bring myself to say those words. I couldn't put my heart on the line and risk getting hurt, and I will forever regret that. Watching his back fade from my sight, I have no way of knowing when I will see him again.

The truth is, for so many years, in my own village, I was treated like a burden. Most of them bullied me because of my hair and eye color. They called me the fragile Sakura blossom. All of them made me believe that anyone who loved me would bring ruin to that person. I can't keep fleeing from this any more, and I don’t want to. For years, I have always put everyone else’s feelings above my own. Sometimes, to the point where it physically hurt. One moment we're simply friends, and the next I'm feeling your fingers lingering on mine. How it sends shivers down my entire body The way your lips feel against my own The dreams I have every night lie in bed, aching for your touch. I know you'll remind me of our responsibilities, and I get it—better than anybody else, yet my heart yearns to bear it all. To express and convey all of my emotions."

Stella's hand pressed against her heaving chest, feeling the rhythmic thumping of her heart. The sensation was so intense, it compelled her to halt in her tracks, her breath catching in her throat. The Au Ra had no clue how the Exarch would respond, if he even would. She could not force him to reveal his feelings or even be upset if they weren't returned.

But could she truly deny that he had never reciprocated the same for her? His eyes, like gentle caresses, would trace the curves of her body, leaving a trail of longing in their wake. It mattered not where they found themselves, for his gaze would always find her, drawn to her like a moth to a flame. In the tender dance of their fingertips, a delicate caress unfolded. Like two souls longing to intertwine, their hands gravitated towards one another, drawn by an irresistible magnetism. With each gentle stroke, a symphony of sensations played upon their skin, igniting a fire that only their touch could quell. In this ethereal moment Pausing in the midst of life's chaotic dance, they found themselves captivated by a single, fleeting moment. It was as if time itself held its breath, allowing them to savor the delicate touch of the other. In that tender instant, their souls intertwined, their hearts beating in perfect harmony.

The mere act of being near one another ignited a symphony of sensations, causing their hearts to flutter with an intensity that defied reason. Each stolen glance, each gentle touch, sent electric currents coursing through their veins, awakening a dormant passion that had long slumbered within. Their souls, entwined in a delicate tapestry of desire, yearned for the intoxicating closeness that only they could provide. In this ethereal realm of shared affection, time stood still, as their hearts beat in perfect synchrony, forever entangled In his presence, she found herself enveloped in a whirlwind of emotions, a delicate dance between exhilaration and trepidation. He possessed a power over her, a captivating force that rendered her vulnerable, yet she couldn't deny the allure it held. It was a both a blessing and a curse, for within that vulnerability lay the potential for profound connection or devastating heartache.

In the depths of the warriors heart, concealed beneath a veil of secrecy, she harbored an affection so deeply for the advisor of the Crystarium. A love that, if exposed to the prying eyes of her adversaries, would surely bring forth a tempest of danger and peril upon him. The last thing she would ever want and yet, against her better judgment, she found herself baring her soul, relinquishing the delicate tendrils of her emotions to the winds of fate. In the depths of her soul, she yearned for a taste of happiness, even if it were fleeting.

Stella's hand trembled as she extended the shimmering crystal flower towards the Exarch. The luminescent blossom, bathed in a captivating hue of crimson, which seemed to mirror the intensity of her affections. . In the depths of her soul, she yearned to unleash the torrent of emotions that swelled within her. Though fate had conspired to confine her heart's desires to this fleeting moment, she could no longer suppress the overwhelming desire to lay everything out there. Never again would she succumb to the shackles of her past, the woman's heart yearned to pursue the desires that burned deep within her.

Oh, how she longed to be with him, to feel the sweetness of his love. Feel the warmth of his body pressed against hers, his strong arms enveloping her in a tight embrace.

"As I previously stated, you are not required to say anything. I simply had to say those words or forever regret it."

She leaned forward, placing her lips against his hidden face, feeling the crystal lodged in the side of his face. She was never disturbed by it. Taking his hand into hers, she let the crystal flower stay in their linked hands.

As they stood there in the light of the ocular, she leaned forward gently, putting her forehead to rest against his. Her eyes slowly opened before she looked up at his hooded face. She had no idea what he looked like under that cowl. Which was surprising considering how much he caused a stir in her heart.

[ashwhowrites]

Well, I'm feeling a bit petty lately. So say, Y/N and Eddie is in a relationship but another girl is hitting on him and rubbing it in Y/N's face and she has told Eddie "please, tell this girl off, because it's not fun what she's doing." But Eddie, that has only seen the sweet side of the other girl tells her 'there's nothing you have to worry about', maybe he likes the attention even though he's faithful to Y/N.

So one night when Y/N and Eddie is going to have a date night this girls calls is needs him for whatever reason and Eddie just says "be right back, babe."

And that's where Y/N draw the line. She usually stays at Eddie's and Wayne's but now she packs up her stuff and goes home and when Eddie comes back and gets frantic, she doesn't answer her phone and when he comes to her house to visit she just says: Why aren't you with "other girls name"? She's the one you treat as a girlfriend after all?" and close the door in his face.

And Eddie realizes he has fucked upp for real this time - for real real and maybe even gets a talking to by Wayne.

But it ends happily please?

I hope this is what you wanted and you enjoy it! Thank you for requesting 🫶🏻 I tried my best to make it a happy ending and still keeping Eddie at blame.

Who's your girlfriend?

Y/N and Eddie's relationship never had arguments or disagreements. They worked perfectly together. But lately, a new girl shook things up.

Her name was Maddie, and Y/N hated her. She was a waitress at the hideout. Eddie and Y/N spent most of their time at the hideout, cuddled in their booth. It was something Y/N looked forward to every day, but now it sucked.

Maddie knew Eddie was taken, and she didn't care. She spent most of her shifts flirting with Eddie and it pained Y/N that he never told her to back off.

"Anything else?" Maddie asked, her attention on Eddie.

"We are all set, thank you." Eddie smiled, taking the check from Maddie's hand. She smiled back and walked off.

"Help me with the math?" Eddie asked as he handed Y/N the receipt. Y/N went to calculate a tip when she noticed tiny scribbles in the corner.

"What a bitch!" Y/N snarled, slamming the receipt on the table. "She wrote her fucking phone number."

"So? Ignore it." Eddie shrugged, digging cash out of his wallet.

"Ignore it? Eddie! She flirts with you all the time, and I try to ignore it. But this is straight disrespect. And I think you need to say something." Y/N explained.

"She doesn't mean it, you know waitresses do the most for a tip."

"I think she wants more than just the tip, Eddie," Y/N growled, and she slid out of the booth. Eddie followed after.

"Don't be like that. You know I've only got eyes for you." Eddie said, throwing his arm over her shoulder. But she shrugged him off and crossed her arms. She marched out of the bar, and Eddie tried to keep up.

"You're right, I'm sorry. Next time I'll say something." Eddie promised, grabbing her hand to make her stop.

Y/N sighed and kicked at the rocks in the parking lot.

"You will?" She asked, her sad eyes looking up at him.

"Of course." He said. Y/N let it go, holding his hand as they walked to his van and went home.

~

Y/N took deep breaths as they walked into the hideout. She was excited to finally see Eddie put Maddie in her place.

They sat down in their booth, no surprise Maddie was ready to serve them immediately. Her eyes stayed on Eddie as he ordered their drinks.

"You got it, handsome." Maddie flirted and then walked off.

Y/N kicked Eddie under the table, giving him a look. Her eyes hinted at Maddie.

"She's a nice girl, baby. Just being friendly." Eddie reassured her, moving closer to wrap his arm around her shoulder.

Y/N rolled her eyes but dropped it. The night was young and there would be plenty of time for Eddie to shut Maddie up. Y/N cuddled into his shoulder. She held the hand that hovered over her shoulder and pecked his jaw.

Maybe them being so cuddled up would help Maddie get the hint.

It didn't

Towards the end of their date, Maddie and Eddie got in a conversation about rock bands. Eddie removed his arm to talk with his hands. Y/N felt like the third wheel as she slurped down her drink.

Y/N was ready to leave. She couldn't sit here and watch them talk like she didn't exist.

"Excuse us, but we are leaving," Y/N said, standing up as she got out of the booth. She didn't care what Eddie had to say, she yanked him out of his spot.

"Oh, um bye!" Maddie rushed out as Y/N dragged Eddie out of the door.

"Well, that was rude." Eddie scoffed

"Rude? What was rude was you two acting like I wasn't even there! What was rude is that you told me you'd tell her off and you sat there like an idiot!" Y/N huffed, letting go of his hand as they made it to the van.

"She wasn't doing anything! We were having a friendly conversation." Eddie defended, starting the van.

"Friendly? Yeah right. I didn't know friendly conversations meant she'd be rubbing your arm and giggling at every fucking word. Trust me, babe. You are not that funny." Y/N said she knew she was being bitchy but she was beyond pissed.

"Why don't we talk about this when you calm down?" Eddie offered, peeling out of the parking lot.

But she never calmed down. She slammed the trailer door behind her as she marched into Eddie's room.

"Baby, come on let's talk" Eddie tried

"Nope. You didn't want to talk in the car so oh well. I am going to bed." She said, stripping out of her clothes and changing into pajamas she always left at Eddie's.

Eddie sighed but got ready for bed as well. He bit his lip as they lay in silence. She refused to cuddle him or let him touch her. She was on her side with her back towards him.

"Look I'm sorry." He said, his hand touched her shoulder but she slapped it away.

"Sorry, my ass. Go to bed." She snapped.

A few minutes passed, and both lay in silence.

Eddie groaned as his phone rang, he slipped out of bed to answer. Y/N turned on the lamp and sat up confused. It was very late for someone to be calling and she was worried that Dustin or someone needed help.

"Yeah, I'll be right there," Eddie said and he hung up.

"What's going on?" Y/N asked, moving to her knees.

"Maddie needs a ride home. I'll be right back." Eddie said he slipped on his pants and his jacket.

"Excuse me?"

"I'll be right back! Just go to sleep, love." Eddie said, leaning down and kissing her forehead.

"Edward Munson, do not go pick up that girl," Y/N growled, her tone was deep and angry. Eddie felt a little nervous as she glared.

"She called me! I can't just leave her at work." Eddie tried to defend.

"Yeah, she can stay at work until her next shift. Or call someone else. I'm sure she's got family and friends." Y/N shrugged. Then it clicked, she had Eddie's number. Y/N's face hardened and Eddie stepped back.

Her feet landed on the floor as her finger stabbed into Eddie's chest. He walked backward until his body hit his wall.

"She has your number, which means you called her! Which means you kept that receipt with her number on it." Y/N seethed. She couldn't believe her boyfriend kept Maddie's number.

"Yes, I did. But it was just as friends!" Eddie tried to defend himself.

"You knew I didn't like that she did that. You knew that I thought it was disrespectful towards our relationship."

"But I don't see it like that! I truly don't see an issue."

"Don't see the issue? I thought I made it clear. She's into you and you are leading her on because you enjoy the attention." Y/N said, her anger turning into a bit of sadness. Her boyfriend was enjoying the attention of someone else.

"I really need to go get her. And we can talk when I get back?" Eddie asked, Y/N stepped back and let him move away from the wall.

She was done talking and she was done listening. She nodded but didn't say a word. She kept her eyes on the floor as Eddie grabbed his keys and left.

Y/N refused to cry, she sniffled and took a deep breath. As she heard the van's engine start, she started to pack. She grabbed the nearest bag she could find and threw everything she had in it. If Maddie wanted Eddie so damn bad, she could have him. It wasn't like Eddie didn't already pick her a thousand times over Y/N anyway.

"You okay, kid?" Y/N looked up from her frantic packing. Wayne stood at Eddie's door with a sad smile.

"Uh yeah. I'm sorry if we woke you up." Y/N apologized, and she zipped up the bag.

"I'm sorry he's an idiot. He's going to realize soon, it takes Eddie a bit to see the real picture." Wayne sighed.

"Yeah well I'm not going to wait for him to see it," Y/N said, she had the bag on her shoulder and walked past Wayne.

"Let me drive you home." Wayne offered, as he grabbed his keys.

~

Eddie yawned as he finally got back home. It was nearly two am and he was exhausted. He was mentally exhausted by what was behind the door. He didn't want to have to argue with Y/N all over again.

Eddie walked into the trailer, shocked to see Wayne sitting on the couch.

"Why are you awake?" Eddie asked

"Why are you just getting home?" Wayne asked

"A friend needed a ride home." Eddie shrugged, as he took off his shoes and jacket. "But I'll talk to you in the morning. I don't want to keep Y/N waiting."

"She left," Wayne said, a disappointed tone in his voice.

"What? Why?" Eddie asked, he looked into his bedroom and his heart stopped. Half of his room was missing, all her stuff was nowhere to be seen.

"Go find out. And for once, listen to her." Wayne said as he walked back into his own room.

Eddie threw back on his shoes and jacket and headed back out.

He wasn't sure how many laws he broke as he pulled into Y/N's driveway. He climbed up the tree that led him straight to her window. He tapped on the glass, the light was on so he knew she was still awake.

Y/N yanked open her curtains to see Eddie. She rolled her eyes but opened the window.

"What are you doing here?" She sighed, crossed her arms, and blocked him from coming inside.

"You left, of course, I'm going to come get you," Eddie said, she ignored his puppy eyes and kept her ground.

"Right. After you were done with Maddie, right?" Y/N said

"Look Y-" but Y/N cut him off.

"No, Edward. We've talked about it, I've said how I've felt and you don't care. A friendship with Maddie is too important to you. So how about you leave me the fuck alone and go back to the girl you actually treat like a girlfriend. We're done." Y/N snapped, she slammed down her window and closed the curtains. This time she allowed herself to cry, she turned off her light so he couldn't see her shadow. She heard him knocking but she refused. She ignored his cries and pleas, she crawled into bed and allowed herself to cry to sleep.

~~~

Eddie paced in the living room all night. He waited for Wayne to wake up because he had no idea what to do. He knew he brushed how Y/N felt, but he thought it was jealousy. He didn't know she'd break up with him over it. He kicked himself for not truly listening and fixing the issue at the start.

Wayne walked out and Eddie ambushed him before he even made it to the hallway.

"She broke up with me. What do I do?" Eddie rushed out, the panic in his voice made him sound shaky.

"I'm sorry, Eddie. But I can't tell you what to do." Wayne said as he walked into the kitchen.

"Wayne, please. I can't let this girl go. If I knew how to fix it, I would have done it last night. I stayed up thinking and thinking but I was scared. What if I fucked up too bad? What if she never wants to be with me again?" Eddie panicked. His hands were in his hair as he yanked in frustration.

"Eddie, that girl told you the problem a thousand times. Listen to what she said, and you'll know what to do. But don't wait, do it now. A girl like that deserves way more than you offered her. I didn't raise you to hurt girls." Wayne lectured as he poured his coffee.

~

Eddie knew what he needed to do. He raced to Y/N's. Luckily it was a normal time so he could use the front door. He knocked and waited.

Y/N opened the door and went to slam it but Eddie caught it with his foot.

"Please, just give me a second to apologize."

Y/N sighed and opened the door.

"I'm sorry for pushing your feelings aside. I'm sorry for being a dick, and a bad boyfriend. I should have said something to Maddie the first time you felt uncomfortable. I'm sorry for everything and for making you upset. I know I don't deserve it, but I'm going to hate myself forever if I don't try to save this relationship. If I woke up one morning, alone in my thirties, knowing I could have had you right next to me and I didn't try for it. So please," he dropped to his knees and grabbed her hand. "Let me show you I heard you."

Y/N was confused about what it all meant, but she knew she loved Eddie and if there was a way to fix it, she wanted to do it.

"Okay, fine. What's your plan?" Y/N asked. Eddie jumped to his feet and grabbed her hand. He closed her front door and dragged her to his car.

"What are you doing?" She asked, but Eddie just had a big smile on his face.

"Something I should have done a long time ago." He said as he began to drive.

Y/N sat silently as she took in her surroundings. It clicked that they were heading to the hideout.

"Isn't it a little early to drink?" Y/N teased as Eddie pulled up into the parking lot.

"Yes, but that's not why we are here," Eddie said, he got out of the van and opened her door. He grabbed her hand and walked up to the front door, but didn't go in.

"Are we not going in?" Y/N asked

"We are, just need to do something first," Eddie said.

Y/N rolled her eyes as she saw Maddie walk up. She wasn't dressed in uniform so Y/N assumed she wasn't working.

"You wanted to see me?" Maddie asked, nervously looking at Eddie.

Y/N looked confused between both of them.

"Maddie, I am completely in love with Y/N. I know it was wrong of me to feed into your flirting. Even if I only wanted to be friends, I realize now it makes my girl uncomfortable and that's what matters the most. I also know now that your actions towards me were disrespectful to my relationship and whatever you thought was happening, is not happening. I've deleted your number, so I'd like it if you didn't call me ever again and never talked to me again." Eddie said, Y/N tried to hold back her laugh as steam came out of Maddie's ears.

Maddie didn't say anything, she stomped off and mumbled curse words under her breath.

"I know it doesn't fix everything. But I hope it's a start." Eddie said.

"It's definitely a start." Y/N smiled, holding Eddie's hand as they walked into the hideout. She gasped as she saw the whole small bar lit up in fairy lights, their booth had candles and a display of breakfast foods.

"Oh wow."

"Would you join me for a breakfast date?" Eddie asked his hand gestures towards the table.

"Oh absolutely," Y/N smiled as she walked towards their booth.

It was a start in the right direction. Maddie was out of their hair, and fixing their relationship could have all their attention.

Tags!

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[chrisbesitos]

i have a request! could you possibly do a fic of matt who's trying to look after his gf who's sick, but she keeps trying to push him away as she doesn't want him getting sick too? <33

KING OF EVERYTHING.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀matt sturniolo × fem!reader.

warnings: sickness, fluff, cursing.

synopsis: Y/N is sick and Matt wants to take care of her, but she keep trying to push him away.

Matt has been missing his girlfriend the whole day.

It's only been two hours since their last message, Y/N have said that she was going to have a nap, but Matt was already thinking that she was hibernate. But he's kinda worried, Y/N was sniffing and sneezing, Matt ask if she was feeling okay, but Y/N just pushed him away and tell him she was going to sleep on her own house.

So she barely texted him today and when they talk, Y/N said she was going to have a nap. This was two hours ago, now Matt is driving to Y/N's after bought some things for his girlfriend on CVS. He knows she is sick, but Y/N pushes him away like she always does. She is stubborn, but this is not gonna stop him from taking care of her.

After parking the car, Matt gets in the house using his keys. The house is silent, not even her cat came to receive him at the door like he always does. Matt leaves the bags on the kitchen balcony, he walks into her room and finds his girl in her bed, laying under the blankets with her cat. He approached, sitting in the corner of the bed, Matt removed Y/N's hair off her face, admiring her peaceful and pretty face.

He let a kiss on her cheek, this was enough to wake her. Y/N slowly open her eyes, blinking some times and stretch her arms.

"Hey, pretty." Matt said softly.

"Matt?" She replied with her voice raspy and deep. "What are you doing here?"

"You weren't okay yesterday and then you weren't answering me, so I came here." He smiles, patting her hair. Y/N shook her head, trying to sit on the bed, but Matt stopped her. He grabbed her shoulders and gently pushed her back to the bed. "You need to rest."

"You need to get back home, you're gonna get sick."

"I don't care and I'm not going anywhere." Matt said, rolling his eyes of her stubbornness. Y/N sights and crossed her arms, Matt let a kiss on her temple. "I'm gonna–"

"Matt! You can't kiss me, damn." Y/N pushed him away, Matt take a deep breath and sight.

"Fine, fine." He gave her a small smile. "But I'm not going anywhere."

"So don't kiss me." Matt giggled, but accepted.

Matt said to Y/N stay in the bed, he made her lunch and gave meds for her fever and pains. Even when Y/N was pushing him and don't letting him huge and kiss her, she was feeling sensitive from her sore body.

An hour later, Matt was sitting in her computer chair rolling his timeline on his phone, since Y/N didn't let he lay in the bed. Y/N was staring the TV, but she wasn't paying any attention. She had a pout on her lips and her eyes were watering, she look at her boyfriend and cries out.

"Matt."

"Yeah? You need something?" He looked at her, putting his phone aside. He knows what she wants, but wanted to hear from her.

"Cuddles. I need cuddles." She whimpered.

"I thought you didn't want to get me sick." Matt teased.

"Fuck that, I need you right now." Y/N opened her arms for Matt hug her, he giggled and smiled. "Please, my whole body aches."

Matt lay down on Y/N's side, he hugged her waist and pulled her to be next him, but she wants more. Y/N practically climbed his body, she lay her head on his chest and smiled. Matt kissed her temple, massaging her waist and whispering lovely words to her.

"I love you, pretty boy. I'm sorry for being stubborn the whole day."

"That's okay, I love you either way." He laughed, Y/N chuckled.

Soon, Y/N's aches seems to disappear, so she could sleep peacefully on Matt's arms without worrying about her sickness.

A couple days before, Matt texted Y/N saying they couldn't go out, because he got a flu.

Y/N: i told you so!!!!!!

sorry, this is very short :////

Tags: @lizzymacdonald06 @deliciousluminaryanchor @lushjunkie @sweetreliever @watercolorskyy

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[infiniteimaginings]

Can you do a transmale!reader x Harry Hook/Uma

(if you do multiple characters)

Where reader is chosen with the main four in the first movie (kid of Jack Sparrow) and leaves. He’s part of Uma’s crew. And when he’s chosen in the first movie, he’s pre-T or anything like it.

Then the second movie comes along and reader goes back to the isle with the others to bring back Mal. But he really goes because he wants to see his pirates. Except now he’s been on T for about a year now and had his surgeries. So they don’t recognize him and kidnap him along with Ben.

Anddddd I can’t really think of anything else after that. So…have fun with it! Preferably a happy ending, with lots of fluff and sweetness.

Pre-established Uma/Harry and Reader didn’t come out to them before leaving so as far as Uma/Harry know, Reader is a cis woman. So it’s a surprise when he finally tells him who he really is.

And yeah, that’s all. It’s alright if you don’t write it, I’d understand. Thanks!

Are we supposed to know you? (Uma x TransMale!Reader x Harry Hook)

Summary: You were sent off with the other Vk's to Auradon and when you come back to retrieve Mal, you're changed. You of course go back for Mal, but it's mainly to see the people you left and to tell them you're home. What happens when they don't recognize you and see you as a threat, just like Ben. How will they know you're who you say you are? Pronouns: You/Yours, She/Her (In mentions from Uma and Harry), He/Him Warnings: None Word Count: 2.7k A/N: (Long A/N) Act like Jefferson doesn't exist, I forgot he existed lol. Also, I won't lie, I started this at one o'clock in the morning, and was contemplating how on earth I make this fluff when they don't recognize him and kidnap him. So, unfortunately I didn't get lots of fluff into it, I apologize, I will write a part two to this little thing just for you with only fluff in it. I hope I did the general idea justice, if I didn't, I apologize. Lots of love! <333 (Even if I explained it, you guys would not understand how frustrated I've been with tumblr and my computer. I'm so sorry for how late this is, I've been upset because I had to delay it. It's here now though.)

When Mal came to you , talking about the Isle, you couldn't help but get excited. Your eyes lit up and your smile got wider at the thought of discussing it. Mal noticed your obvious signs of wanting to continue the conversation so she sat down next to you on the bed, looking out the open curtains where the students of Auradon Prep walked. The blonde girl looked over to you, the tips of her hair their typical purple. She sighed and looked back down, messing with her fingers, “Do you ever feel like…” She paused, unable to express how she felt in words. It would’ve been easier for her if you were the first person she went to, but you weren’t.

She went to Evie, Jay, Carlos, but none of them could understand where she was coming from. It was as if everyone was happy with their new lives, but her.

Mal groaned, putting her head into her hands, unable to speak anymore.

You looked at her curiously, placing a hand on her back and rubbing small circles into it. “You wanted to talk about the island…right?” You asked her, tilting your head to see her expression. She removed her hands and nodded, not looking at you. “Yeah.”

“Is it because…you miss it?”

There was a pause, as if the room itself stilled, as if the world stopped. You moved your hand a bit just to make sure it wasn’t some sort of magic freezing everything. 

Mal sat up straight, swallowing hard, “I don’t miss the island itself.” She confessed, making eye contact with you, “I miss who I was.” She explained, taking a deep breath, “Do you get what I mean?”

You looked at her blankly, tilting your head as you looked down at yourself. 

As you did so, she opened her mouth before closing it immediately. She shook her head and laughed, slapping your arm lightly. “You know what I mean!”

“Hey, I didn’t even say anything!” You chuckled out, putting an arm around her, placing your head on hers. “But…” You began, rubbing her arm softly as she leaned into you, “I do get where you’re coming from.”

Mal looked up, her eyes a bit water, “You do?”

You nodded with a smile, “We went from a life of no no structure, doing whatever we want, enjoying life to…” You blew air out of your mouth, sighing heavily, “Rules, etiquette, expectations.” 

The girl next to you stiffened at the last word before she relaxed, leaning more into your shoulder. “I just miss….” She trailed off, shaking her head.

“You miss the freedom.”

“Yeah, I miss the freedom.”

You nodded, thinking for a moment. Soon enough, you removed your arm from her and turned to her, “Then, get it back.”

“What?”

“Show everyone that you still deserve your freedom.” You explained, moving your hands with your words. “We didn’t stop being villain kids just because we started going to Auradon.” You continued watching as her eyes got bigger, “You don’t have to fit into these boxes people are trying to force us into.” You told her, shaking your head, “If they don’t understand that, then they never really understood you.”

Your words seemed to have gotten to Mal as she stood up quickly, a small smile on her face. “I needed that, thank you.” She told you, inhaling softly as she turned to the door to walk out.

You waved and mumbled a small ‘you’re welcome’ once the door was closed since she gave you no time to. 

You didn’t think much of it, you just assumed she would do something to show people that she was still herself even if she wasn’t ‘evil’, or necessarily ‘good’. 

Well, you didn’t think much of it until the next day when the VK group and Ben bursted into your room. You jumped, shoving a paper under your pillow as you clutch your chest. “Last I checked, knocking wasn’t a foreign concept.”

Evie mumbled a small apology as the rest stood with apologetic but serious faces.

You sat up since the air was so tense, tossing your legs over the bed to stand in front of them, “What’s up?”

“Mal left for the Isle.” Carlos blurted out, blinking rapidly as he looked everywhere but you.

Ben looked down with a guilty face, a frown placed on his lips. “We had a fight…” He mumbled, “She said I didn’t understand how…” He paused, clearing his throat, “She said I didn’t understand her.”

Your eyes widened and your mouth fell open at the realization and of the conversation you had with her.

Jay noticed your expression and knitted his brows together, “What?”

A harsh cough left your throat as you looked away from them, “I might’ve had something to do with that.”

The group simultaneously yelled, “What?!”

Your hands raised in an automatic surrender, “Hey, she came to me talking about the Isle,” You began your explanation, “and I miss my

Evie wasn’t pleased to say the least, she crossed her arms with a raised brow. “We are your people.”

You almost laughed, but given the situation you decided not to. “I miss my people.” You specified, your words reminding the group that all of you weren’t exactly the bestest of friends back on the island.

They couldn’t say anything, they knew you were right. Ben didn’t exactly get the message, and that reminded you all of why you were gathered in the first place.

You agreed to go to the Isle to help Mal.

You agreed, but you weren’t really going to help Mal. She lived there her entire life, you knew she would be fine. She knows her way around the island, she practically ran it. You weren’t going to the Island to help Mal, you were going home.

Once all of you reached the island, you thought you would all spread out to find Mal…that wasn’t the case. You all went in a suspiciously large group to find the daughter of Maleficent, something you thought was stupid.

You thought it was stupid, but you all still found where she was hiding out and Ben went to talk to her.

Evie, Jay, and Carlos all talked to each other as you scanned the area, kicking the ground slightly as time passed by. You were barely on the island and now you all were going to leave. It wasn’t how you wanted things to go, nothing was how you wanted to go.

Ben walked out and before anyone could question him, he walked straight past you guys. Everyone looked at each other and you sighed, “I’ll get him.” You grumbled, jogging after him.

“Ben!” You yelled, trying to catch up to him. “Ben, wait up!” You yelled once again, finally reaching him, placing a hand on his shoulder. “What happened? Why are you so upset?”

“She doesn’t want to come with us, all of this was for nothing.” Ben spoke harshly, ripping his beanie off his head and throwing it to the ground.

You sighed, picking the beanie up, dusting it off. “Ben, do me a favor.”

“What!”

“Look around right now.” You told him, gripping the beanie tightly. He looked at you confused but you repeated, “Look around right now.”

Ben regulated his breathing, calming down enough to look around. It was cramped, cluttered, dirty even. It wasn’t properly cared for but the people around seemed to be having a good time nonetheless. 

When he looked back at you, you were looking at the children running around, trying to find a way to pick-pocket Ben. “This is how we grew up Ben…” You mumbled, finally making eye contact with Ben, “You can’t expect Mal, the daughter of the biggest villain who was on this island, to just snap into a princess.” You explained to him, shaking your head.

Ben turned, looking at the area around, “I didn’t realize…” He whispered, eyes flickering to something new the more he looked. 

When the son of Belle and the Beast turned around to face you again, you were nowhere to be found. He turned around quickly, breath picking up the pace as he looked for you, “Where’d you go?” He called out, spinning in a circle until he felt a tap on his shoulder. He let out a sigh of relief, “Come on, that wasn’t fun-” The next thing he knew, everything went black.

Blurry eyes opened, a dry throat let out a cough, and vision restored. Ben looked around for a moment before his gaze fell on you. You were sat with a blank expression, seemingly uninterested in your current situation.

Ben muttered a few incoherent sentences but you cut him off for a moment.

“Getting kidnapped was not on my vacation bucket list.”

Neither of you could even begin a conversation after your words when someone started laughing. The two of you looked up and saw someone had walked in, seemingly amused at your situations. 

“Absolutely hilarious, you’re quite funny.” The male said, looking you over a bit before turning his attention to Ben to do the same thing.

Your brows furrowed as you broke out of whatever ‘trance’ you were in. “Harry?” You asked aloud, adjusting yourself to get a closer look at him.

He pointed his fake hook to you, placing it under his chin. “How do you know my name?”

“How does who know your name?” A voice called from behind the boy, footsteps getting louder as they neared.

Harry tilted his head, “This one.” He spoke, moving his hook from under your chin to step back.

The person that walked in was a girl, she had light blue braids and brown eyes. She stood tall with the hat of a pirate on. 

Your brows furrowed once again, your mind still a little fuzzy from your current situation. “Uma?” You mumbled out, tilting your head.

“You know these people?” Ben suddenly spoke out, trying to get out the rope that tied his hands behind his back.

You looked over at him, a bit unimpressed. “I was raised here, I know everyone here.”

Harry gasped falsely, fake hook over his heart, “You’re a VK?” He asked, not expecting you to answer, since he didn't believe you.

You nodded, forgetting that you look different so they don’t recognize you. “Uh, yeah.” You spoke as if it were obvious, “Born and raised.” You spoke, trying to jog their memory. “Uma, I was in your shop every single da-”

“Oh, and are we supposed to know you because of that?” She asked with a straight face, squatting down to bore her eyes into yours.

You took a deep breath, closing your eyes before opening them again, “If you said you didn’t, I’d be questioning our friendship.”

Your captors both laughed, looking at each other, “Friendship?”

Ben decided to give up, still listening to the conversation. So much was running through his mind, he was trying to figure out how to get out of this situation until…he realized something. You knew these people, you guys were friends, they just didn’t recognize you. If Ben reminded them, maybe they would let you guys go.

He thought it over before blurting out, “He’s the child of Jack Sparrow, so yes he is a villain kid.” 

Everyone went silent, their laughs were quiet, and your breathing stopped at Bens sudden exclamation.

You looked over and Ben looked you up and down, and that is when you realized…they don’t know who you are. You had changed so much in the past year, even your voice was different. How did you just expect them to recognize you?

When you looked back at the two pirates, they were staring you down. If looks could kill, you would be six feet under.

Uma squatted down in front of you, glaring harshly, “Don’t you ever disrespect her like that ever again.” She whispered to you seriously, her head whipping to Ben, “Don’t you ever mention her in front of me, again.”

Harry took a few deep breaths, “She would’ve been fine here, and you took her.” He told Ben, poking his chest with his hook. “If you ever try to lie to us, I will gut you like a fish.”

Uma nodded to the statement, “You think we wouldn’t know her family?” She asked you, tilting her head. “Jack Sparrow had one child, a daughter, and she’s never coming back.” She paused, biting the inside of her cheek, ��For you, a preppy, to just try to claim her father as your own for some sense of freedom…it’s disgusting.”

The blue haired girl stood slowly, keeping her eyes on you. You finally released the breath you were holding, when she removed herself from your space.

You blinked back a few tears as they turned to walk out the door. Harry gently took Umas hand, whispering some things that you couldn't hear.

They were so good together, they still defended your name even if they thought you weren't there. You didn't expect your chest to hurt so badly when they protected you, even if they believed you were gone for good.

“I would’ve joined your crew even if I lost that race.” You mumbled, looking at their backs with sad eyes.

The two paused before turning to you, “Excuse me?” Uma asked, standing in place.

“The race..” You trailed off, “If you won I would join your crew, if I won you would have to spend a week proving to me how much you wanted me to join and then I’d give you my answer.” You continued, nodding with your own words. You didn't notice how they continued to walk towards you. You continued on, “Unfortunately, I was dragged to Auradon before I could answer you, so I’m doing it now.” You told them, looking up to see both of them analyzing you with parted lips, “I was going to join your crew anyways.”

Umas eyes were focusing on each of your features before she cupped your face, looking at you more intensely.

Harry looked up, making eye contact with you, “You have her eyes…” He muttered, taking off his hook to trace your cheeks.

You swallowed harshly before breathing out a chuckle, your cheeks warming a bit. “I would hope so, I was born with my eyes, guys.”

Uma shook her head, “But she’s… you’re not…”

“A girl…I know.” You whispered out, looking down, or trying to. Harry picked your head back up swiftly.

His eyes were watering slightly, “You’re telling the truth aren’t you?”

You nodded as best as you could with his hands on your cheeks. “I know I don’t look the same…”

He shook his head, “But you’re still you…” 

Uma quickly untied the rope keeping you tied up, trying her best to go quickly. She had ordered her crew to tie your guys up from your arms to your legs, and now she was regretting it. Harry noticed her struggle and began to help untie you, muttering curses when he got to harder knots.

Once you were untied, you rubbed at your wrists, looking down for a moment at the burn. 

You looked up, finally, and were met with Harry and Uma on their knees, staring at you. Their eyes were teary, their chests were rising and falling deeper than ever, neither could speak.

You felt your own eyes begin to water as you rushed forward, wrapping your arms around the both of them.

Harry's arm immediately went around you, he began to cry into your shoulder, holding you tightly. “We thought we’d never see you again.” 

Uma, on the other hand, was hesitant. She slowly wrapped her arm around you. When she did, she felt a rush of familiar comfort, a heat rushing through her chest, something she only felt with Harry and…you. She bit her tongue so as to not cry as she buried her nose into your other shoulder, “We would’ve found a way to you anyways.”

The warmth of the two enveloped you as you finally got to be near them again, as you finally got to feel their comforting arms again. “I have no doubt in my mind that you would’ve found me again.” You whispered to them, trying to hold them tighter.

Harry rambled on about never leaving them again, Uma ran her fingers down your back, both of them weren't letting you go anytime soon.

Uma sniffled a bit, "We missed you so much."

"I missed you guys too, more than you'll ever know."

You were finally with your people again. Now, you didn’t have to stare at a picture of the three of you, wishing they were in your arms.

[lee-laurent]

T'es ben chix - Luke Hughes

Summary: Amélie decides Luke Hughes is the cutest boy she's ever seen, but she doesn't know how to tell him.

wc: 7k

content: fluff, a little bit of angst, kissing, panic attacks, anxiety, quick make out session, a couple dirty jokes, long distance relationship (let me know if missed anything!)

notes: don't let the title fool you, this fic is still in english!! i realized the other day while doing schoolwork that i don't have a fic that discusses being french-canadian. so... here we are! this fic was super fun for me to write and i incorporated experiences and challenges i have faced over the last few years. a lot of the mistakes that amélie makes are mistakes that i have made or that other french speakers make when speaking english bc sometimes we try to directly translate things and it just does not work lol i reallly hope you guys enjoy!!! and to any other francophones out there: let's be friends!!

just finished writing and it's about 5k words more than i was planning

Amélie honestly wasn't the biggest fan of going out back home, so going out in a place where she could barely speak the language was even worse. But a few of the girls she'd befriended had convinced her it was a good way to get to know more people and to let loose. She sat with the three other girls at a small table, her fingers drumming against the glass of her cocktail.

"Yeah, what did you think of that guy that presented today, Am?"

"Hm? He did... good."

"No, silly. Did you think he was cute?"

"Oh, um, he's... how do you say... not my type?"

"Not your type? Then what is your type, Am?"

"Probably that guy she's been making googly eyes at all night," one of the others teased.

"Who? The tall, curly haired guy in the corner?"

Amélie blushed, sipping at the alcohol for courage.

"Ooo, she's totally into him!"

"You should go talk to him, Am!"

"No... I tell you... no American boys," she waved them off.

"Well, that's too bad. Cause it looks like he's comin' over here. We'll be at the bar if you need us."

"Guys..."

But it was too late, the other girls were already up and headed towards the bar.

"Calisse," she mumbled, trying to ignore the tall figure approaching her table.

"Mind if I sit?" he asked. She looked up at him, her lips pursed. He had the same curly hair and boyish smile that her friends had been teasing her about. She really hadn't planned on talking to anyone tonight, let alone any boys. The girls knew her rule: no falling for any boys while she was in America.

"Uh... sure," she replied, gesturing to the empty chairs across from her.

He smiled, sitting down casually, rubbing his palms on his pants. "I'm Luke. I, uh, I thought I'd come introduce myslef since we, uh, made eye contact so many times."

Amélie bit her lip, nodding as he spoke. She barely knew enough English to follow what her friends were saying, and now she had to talk to some random guy at this bar she didn't even want to be at. "I, uh, I am Amélie."

"Amélie? That's a really pretty name. Did I, uh, did I say it right? Amélie?"

Her cheeks flushed, her eyes flickering down to her drink. "Yeah... that is right. Thank you." Her fingers tightened around the glass, trying to think of something to say next, but everything just came in French.

Luke could sense her hesitation, suddenly becoming way more nervous about coming over. Maybe it had been stupid. Maybe he was making her feel uncomfortable. "I just thought... I don't know. You seemed nice. Do you, uh, want to talk, or...?"

She met his gaze, taking a deep breath. He was trying and he seemed nice, like he really wanted to talk to her. "I... my English, it is not very good," her accent thickening as she spoke. "It is... hard for me."

Luke nodded, leaning forward slightly. He had teammates that didn't speak English as their first language, so he kind of knew what to expect. "That's fine. I'm sure it's better than my French. That is your first language, right? French? Sorry, I just assumed cause your name-"

"Yes, French," she cut him off, giggling at his rambling.

"I can barely say anything in French, so you've already got me beat."

His attempt to make her feel better worked... a little. "It is easier... to write. But speaking... more pressure, I forget the words lots."

"I get that. But we can just... talk slowly."

She sipped at her drink, waiting for him to continue.

"So, what brings you to Jersey? Not a lot of French people here."

"Exchange... at Rutgers. I am from Québec. Saguenay. But I come here... and I work on my English."

"That's super cool. It's awesome that you're pushing yourself to get better. I, uh, I went to Umich for a bit, but-"

"Umich?"

"Oh, right. University of Michigan. I lived in Michigan before I lived here."

"You move here because..."

"For hockey. I play hockey."

"Oh... that's cool. I like Les Canadiens. You play in the LNH?"

"The NHL? Yeah, I do. You like hockey?"

"Everyone in Québec likes hockey. Very popular."

"But you didn't know who I was," Luke teased.

"Only like Les Canadiens, sorry," she shrugged.

"Well, that's fair, I guess. The Habs are pretty big in Québec, huh?"

"Yes! My family... all big fan." She felt comfortable talking about her family, talking about home, the things she liked. Her dad watched every Habs game on TV and sometimes he'd even drive down to Montréal for a weekend to see them play.

"My family loves hockey too. Everyone plays. My mom, my dad, me, and both my brothers. It's like in our blood... or something."

"They play for... the same team?"

"One of them does. Jack, he plays with me. My other brother, Quinn, he plays in Vancouver," Luke tried to keep it casual, not wanting it to seem like he was bragging.

"Ah! The Canucks!"

"See, you know a bit about other teams," he teased.

"Shhh," she giggled. "Your family... they seem very... what's the word... talented."

"Guess you could say that."

She took another sip of her drink, her mind buzzing with questions to ask, but none of them coming to her in English. She wanted to ask more about his brothers, about how he started playing hockey, but her mouth just couldn't keep up with her brain. She also didn't want to come off as rude or obsessed with him because of his title, so she just nodded.

"You don't have to worry, you know. I'm not judging you," Luke comforted. "So, what do you do when you're learning English or watching the Habs? You got any other hobbies?"

"I like to... read. And bake... when I have time."

"Reading and baking," Luke mused. "What do you bake?"

"Everything," she giggled. "Tarte au sucre is my preferred. My mom... she always bakes with me."

"Tarte au sucre? What's that? Sugar pie?" Luke's eyes lit up. "You'll have to make me that one day. I've never had it."

"Maybe. You will have to see."

"Challenge accepted."

Amélie went to respond, but her phone buzzing stopped her. It was her friends calling, probably ready to head on to another bar. She didn't want her conversation with Luke to end, but she knew she couldn't stay there all night.

"I have to go. My friends... waiting," she sighed.

Luke's face fell a little but he nodded. "Yeah, I get it. But I, uh, this was fun."

"Me too."

There was silence for a little, neither of them wanting to be the first to say goodbye. "You should give me... your phone number. So you can try my tarte au sucre."

"Sounds like a plan," Luke said, handing his phone over for her. She typed in her name and phone number, adding a '<3' next to Amélie.

"Text me," she giggled, waving goodbye as she joined the other girls at the bar. Luke watched as the four of them started talking amongst themselves quickly, giggling as Amélie told them about her conversation with the hockey player.

He finally stood up, making his way back over to the table where his teammates were sat. Curtis raised an eyebrow at him, a smirk plastered on his face.

"Well, how'd it go, Romeo?" He leaned forward, failing to conceal his grin.

Luke rolled his eyes, "Good, actually. Really good."

Nico raised his pint, "Told you. You just had to go for it."

"So... what's next?" Curtis nudged him. "You ask for her number?"

Luke nodded, trying to play it cool. "Yeah, we'll probably meet up again."

"Probably?"

"Okay, fine. Yeah, we'll see each other again. I'm going to try her sugar pie she was talking about."

"Sugar pie? Is that what we're calling it nowadays?" Nico teased, causing the whole table to erupt in laughter.

Luke shook his head, letting the teasing slide. His mind was too focused on the girl with a French accent and promises of baking him pie. He had to see her again.

~~

Luke found texting Amélie way easier than he'd imagined. She wasn't lying when she said her writing was better than her speaking. Her texts barely ever had mistakes, in fact sometimes they were worded better than his.

They texted back and forth constantly, which earned Luke some teasing from his colleagues. In writing, Amélie was much more confident, returning his flirting with practiced ease. Her personality really shone through in a way it hadn't at the bar. She'd occasionally crack jokes, usually about how he didn't know any French and that she'd have to teach him. Their conversations flowed, talking about their days, sharing stories, discussing the schoolwork that Amélie had, and sometimes sharing pictures of their meals. Although Jack did most of Luke's cooking, he'd never admit that to the girl.

You have to come and try my tarte au sucre soon! Only if you're brave enough though ;)

Luke grinned at his phone, his fingers furiously typing back a reply.

Oh, I'm brave enough. Just let me know when, and I'll be there.

I will. Maybe next week? I need to make sure it's perfect first.

Deal.

~~

Amélie paced her apartment, making sure that everything was in order before Luke came over. She was even more nervous than she had been in the bar. She really wanted things to go well. They had decided to label the event as their first date, and although a bit informal, she was still shitting herself.

The pie was sitting on her kitchen island, untouched. She didn't want to eat any of it until Luke was there to eat it with her. She was worried he'd get in trouble because it wasn't part of his meal plan for work, but he had reassured it multiple times that it wasn't a big deal if he had a little pie.

Just as she was about to rearrange her throw pillows for the third time, there was a knock at her door. She froze mid-step, wiping her hands on her jeans as she made her way to the door.

It was just a pie. And it was just Luke. Nothing to be too worried about.

She hesitated for a moment before she pulled the door open, tilting her head back to look up at Luke. He was standing there in a Devils hoodie and some track pants, a baseball cap covering his curls. He looked relaxed, his hands tucked in the pocket of his hoodie. Amélie hated how nonchalant he looked in comparison to her.

"Hey," he greeted. "I brough my appetite, as promised."

"Good. I hope you are ready," she joked, stepping out of the way to let him in. He pulled off his shoes, taking in her cozy apartment. He laughed when his eyes landed on the big Québec flag hung behind her couch.

"I'm sure it'll be amazing. I'm looking forward to it, don't worry."

She nodded, though her nerves didn't disappear. She led him into the kitchen where the pie sat waiting. The smell of it filled the small space, warm and sweet.

"Wow, looks good, Am. Guess you weren't kidding about being a good baker."

"It's like you with hockey. My talent," she giggled, blushing as their eyes met.

"I don't know. Your baking skills may be miles ahead of my hockey skills."

"Don't lie. Let's see if it tastes as good as the smell," she grabbed a knife, finally cutting the pie into pieces. She placed a generous slice in front of Luke, taking in how comfortable he looked in the situation. She really admired how easygoing he was compared to her. It was their first date, but his demeanor made it seem like they'd been seeing each other for months. Meanwhile, her heart hadn't stopped racing since she opened the door minutes before.

Luke picked up his fork, flashing her a grin before taking his first bite. His eyes widened and he let out a pleased hum, "Holy shit, this is so good."

"You like it?"

"Are you kidding? This is like the best dessert I've ever had... don't tell my mom I said that. But really, Amélie, you've ruined all other pies for me. Can I take some home to show Jack?"

"Of course! I'm glad you like it. Is my mom's recipe."

"You should probably teach me how to make this, so I don't have to beg you every time I want some."

"I wouldn't mind," she giggled, taking a bite of her own slice. The taste reminded her of home and she suddenly felt a lot less nervous about messing up her English in front of Luke. They continued to eat their pie as they talked, shifting the conversation to more personal topics, wanting to know everything about each other.

Luke told stories about growing up with his brothers, sharing embarrassing moments from their childhoods and the occasional hockey-related mishap. Amélie found herself laughing more than she had since she'd arrived in America, her body filling with warmth.

"And that's how Jack ended up chipping his tooth. Our mom was furious, but Quinn and I thought it was hilarious," Luke explained, shaking his head at the memory.

She laughed, her shoulders shaking. "You and your brother... troublemakers," she teased, resting her chin on her hand as she listened to him talk. God, she could listen to Luke talk for hours. His accent was the cutest thing she'd ever heard and his smile curved up more on one side than the other, almost like a smirk. He was so perfect.

"Yeah, we were. Still are, I guess. But what about you? You got any fun stories about your family?"

"One time my dad, he take us to Montréal for a Habs game. And my older brother he had... he liked one girl he saw. But she was anglophone, no French. He goes up to her and he tries to talk English. But it was soooo bad. Even worse than me. He only knew maybe like three word. I think he said like 'Hey, you pretty, drink?' and she looked at him like he was... insane! He... he panicked and ran away. We bullied him for years after. Our dad, he will still talk about it at dinner sometime."

"That's brutal," Luke laughed. "Glad our first conversation didn't go like that."

"I am just better than him."

Luke shook his head, flashing his lopsided smile that made Amélie swoon. "Clearly. You've got the charm, no doubt about it."

"Maybe a little. But still I get nervous. When you arrive, I think maybe that I would die."

"You hid it well. I didn't even notice. I was the nervous one."

"You? Nervous?" she raised an eyebrow, placing her fork between her lips .

"Yeah, you were... well you are, like the prettiest girl I've ever met," he rubbed the back of his neck. "Didn't want to mess it up."

"Is that a joke? You did not... mess up. I like talking with you."

"I like talking with you too, Amélie"

~~

It was their fourth date and they were back at Amélie's apartment. Luke was sprawled out on the couch, his feet propped up on the coffee table as he playfully scrolled through one of Amélie's French-to-English learning apps.

"Come on, give me a word," Luke teased, turning to look at the girl sitting beside him with her legs tucked under her.

"Alright. Alright. Um... try... 'papillon.'"

Luke squinted, trying his hardest to translate it. "Papillon," he reapted slowly. "Uh... sounds like pasta, maybe? Wait, no, wait... um, balloon?"

She let a burst of laughter, learning back against the arm of the couch. "Non! It's butterfly!"

He groaned dramatically, throwing his head back in mock anguish. "Butterfly?! That doesn't even sound like butterfly! What?!"

"You are needing more practice," she giggled, comfortly placing a hand on his thigh.

Luke's eyes widened at her touch, but he couldn't help but smile. "Yeah, clearly I need a lot more practice. You might have to become my full-time tutor."

Amélie smiled, her fingers lingering on his thigh, sending a warmth through both of them. They'd been spending more and more time together, and things were less awkward, but still full of nervousness. The banter between them was easy, but there was an ever-growing tension gnawing at them both.

Luke reached for a throw pillow next to him, lightly tossing it at her. "Give me another one. I swear I'll get it this time."

She swatted the pillow away, but her focus had moved on from French. The space between them had slowly been shrinking and she had just noticed how close they were. She tilted her head, her eyes flickering up to meet Luke's. "I think... maybe you are better at other things than French."

Luke's grin faltered, his breath catching in his throat at her new tone. He glanced down at her hand still resting on his thigh, then back at her face, then back to her hand again. "Oh yeah? Like what?"

"Like... this."

Before he could question what she meant, she leaned in, her lips brushing his, testing the waters. The kiss was soft, hesitant, but the second their lips connected, everything they'd been holding back snapped into place.

Luke's hands moved to her waist, pulling her closer. The kiss deepened quickly, no longer hesitant, but instead filled with the feelings they'd been dancing around for weeks. Amélie sighed against his mouth, her hands sliding up to his chest, gripping his shirt in his fists. Luke groaned softly, the sound muffled by her lips.

Their kisses turned hungrier, more urgent, as the tension in the room built. Luke shifted, gently pushing Amélie back against the couch as he leaned over her, his body pressing against hers as their kisses grew sloppier. Her hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, and Luke's hands slid up to cradle her face, his thumb brushing her cheek as the kiss deepened.

Neither of them wanted to pull away, not wanting to be the first to end the kiss. Luke realized he couldn't hold his breath any longer. He gasped for air before kissing her again, harder this time, his lips moving with more urgency than before. Amélie let out a soft, breathless moan in reponse.

They pulled away again, their foreheads resting against each other as they tried to catch their breath. Luke brushed a strand of her hair, that had gotten stuck between them, out of her face. His eyes were still half-closed as he whispered, "I've wanted to kiss you for so long."

Amélie smiled, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she tried to fill her lungs with air. She looked up at him, her lips still tingling. "Me too. I... I did not expect it to feel... like that."

"Good or bad?"

"Good," she whispered, her fingers tracing the back of his neck before pulling him in again, her lips finding his once more. There was no hesitation this time, just unfiltered desire as they gave in to the kiss.

~~

"Where you goin'?" Jack asked, pausing his video game as he heard Luke head for the door. He turned around, noticing his brother wearing his Michigan backpack. "And why do you have a backpack?"

"Amélie's place. I'm spending the night."

"Damn, Lukey boy's finally getting laid."

"Shut up, Jack... there's no confirmation that that's what happening. She just asked if I wanted to sleep over."

Jack smirked, leaning back on the couch with a knowing look. "Uh-huh, sure. You don't pack a bag just to sleep over, bro."

Luke rolled his eyes, adjusting the straps of his bag. "It's not like that. We're just hanging out, maybe watching a movie or something."

Jack snorted. "Yeah, okay. Whatever you say, lover boy. But just in case, be safe."

"It's not like that," Luke groaned, grabbing his keys off the counter, trying to escape Jack's teasing.

"I'm just saying! Good luck, bud!"

Luke mumbled to himself as he stepped into the hallway, heading for the elevator to the parking garage. His heart was racing more than usual, not just because of Jack's teasing but because tonight did feel different. Spending a night together was a big step in their relationship, especially since they weren't officially official yet.

They hadn't even discussed labels yet, and although they were very close, there was an unspoken worry of figuring out where things were heading. Luke really, really liked her, but he didn't want to rush anything. If Amélie wanted to take things slow, then he would take things slow.

He sat in his car, getting ready to leave when his phone buzzed.

Just picked out a movie. Hope you like rom-coms ;)

Only if we watch it in French so I can practice

Deal.

When he pulled up to her building, he practically leaped out of the car, taking his backpack with him. He knocked on her door, his heart in his throat.

Just go with the flow. No pressure

Amélie giggled when she opened the front door, dressed in one of Luke's Devils hoodies and a pair of shorts he couldn't see from under the large sweatshirt.

"Hey. You look cute," he leaned down to kiss her.

"Hey! Missed you."

"It's only been three days," he laughed, allowing her to wrap her arms around his waist, propping her chin on his chest. "You ready for my horrible French?"

"Ready for anything," she giggled as he ran a hand through her hair.

They stood in the doorway for a few moments more, before she grasped his hand and pulled him into the living room. They settled on the couch, a blanket thrown over their entwined legs.

"Am, I've been thinking..." his thumb brushing lightly against her thigh. "I don't want to overthink it anymore than I already have, but... we've been spending lots of time together. And I really like you."

"I like you too, Luke. A lot."

"Good. Because... I want this to be official. I mean, us. I want us to be official. I don't wanna be just 'hanging out' or 'seeing where things go' anymore. I want you to be my girlfriend." His voice softened at the end, his heart out on a silver platter just for her.

"You really want that?" she gushed.

Luke nodded, "Yeah. I want you. I want... us."

"I want that too," she smiled, shuffling impossibly closer to him, pecking his lips.

Luke pulled her back in for a deeper kiss, relief flooding his body. When they pulled apart, Amélie rested her forehead against his, her fingers gripping the front of his hoodie.

"So, it is official?" she whispered.

"Officially official. You're my girlfriend now."

She kissed him again, laughing into his mouth. "Well... now that we have... figured that out. You have French to practice... boyfriend."

"Let's get started then, girlfriend."

~~

"So... when do I get to meet her?" Jack grinned, knocking Luke's shoulder.

"Oh, um, I can ask her."

Jack raised an eyebrow. "You can ask her?" he teased. "What, you haven't mentioned me?"

Luke sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "I have, Jack. I just... didn't think you'd be so excited."

"Dude, of course I'm excited! My little brother has a girlfriend now! And you know I've gotta approve, see if she's good for you. Duh."

"She's not a test subject, Jack. I'm not bringing her so you can interrogate her."

Jack snickered, loving how flustered his brother was getting. "Relax, I'll be nice. In fact, bring her out with us and the guys this weekend. Some of the other girlfriends will be there."

"I can ask her. Just... don't be weird about it. She get's nervous."

"Me? Weird about it? Never. I'm charming."

"That's what I'm worried about."

"Come on, it'll be fun. She'll get to meet everyone, and you know the guys will love her. Plus, if she can survive a night out with us, she's a keeper."

"Look, I'll ask. But I know she's been busy with schoolwork. I'll ask her tonight. But seriously, Jack, don't freak her out. Please."

"Scout's honour, man. I'll be on my best behaviour."

"You're not a-- never mind. I'll let you know what she says."

~~

Luke laid next to Amélie in her bed, his arm draped over her waist. She was scrolling through TikTok, laughing at French words he didn't know yet. He pressed a kiss to her bare shoulder, peeking at the screen where some girl was speaking rapid French while doing her make up.

"Hey, Am."

"Hmm?"

"So... Jack and some of the guys are going out this weekend, and a few of the girlfriends will be there too," he paused, thinking over his next words. "Jack was, uh, wondering when he could meet you. He kind of suggested you come along."

She blinked, "Meet... all of your friends? This weekend?"

"No pressure! If you're too busy with school, I totally get it. I just thought it might be fun. Only if you want to, of course," Luke quickly added.

She bit her lip, thinking it over, and Luke could tell she was weighing her options. "I'm nervous. I would... like to meet Jack. To be... part of your world."

He pulled her body closer to his, pressing more kisses to her shoulder. "You're already part of my world, Am. And trust me, Jack's been bugging me about meeting you since our first date. He's... well, he's Jack. But he means well."

"Okay. I will come. But if Jack, he makes me feel awkward, you owe me a very good dinner."

Luke laughed, "Deal. And don't worry, I'll be there the whole time. Plus, survivng Jack means you can survive anything."

~~

"C'est très cute, non?" Amélie asked, showing her outfit off to Luke.

"You look like a millon bucks, baby," he replied, leaning down to kiss her.

"What?"

"It's... it's a saying."

She tilted her head slightly, repeating the words back to herself. "A million... bucks."

Luke thought her accent made it all the more adorable. "It means you look beautiful. Like super, super beautiful."

"English says, they are so strange. First you tell me it rains cats and dogs... now I look like I am money. You explain me all of these sometimes, yes?"

"Of course, baby. But I mean it, you looks amazing."

"Thanks, Lu. We should go?"

"If we have to," Luke pouted, leaning down to give her another kiss.

~~

Amélie gripped the straps of her purse so tightly that her knuckles were white. She had never felt so nervous in her life, not even on their first date. She had so many people to impress tonight and probably less than half the words they had in their vocabularies.

Luke was quick to notice her anxiety. She usually walked with so much confidence, but her posture was slumped and her lip was held between her teeth. "Hey, you okay?"

She nodded, but her choked voice betrayed her. "I... I don't know if I can do this."

"You'll be fine, Am," he whispered, brushing his thumb over her cheek. "Jack's going to love you, I can promise you that. And it's just a few of the guys--nothing big. And hey, some of them aren't even native English speakers themselves."

Her eyes were still full of uncertainty, her fingers busying themselves by picking at the skin around her nails. "But maybe I will say something wrong. Or they ask me things, and I do not understand them? Or they will all laugh at me."

"You've been doing so well with your English, love. And if you're ever feeling stuck, just squeeze my hand and I'll come to your rescue."

The bar was pretty empty for the most part, just a few tables of friends talking and sharing drinks. In the back corner, Jack was sitting with a few of the other guys and their better halves.

"There they are!" Jack cheered as soon as he saw them approaching, standing up to greet his brother as if he hadn't seen him in weeks. His tone was loud and confident, and Amélie could feel every set of eyes at the table move towards her and Luke.

Luke gave his brother a quick bro-hug before turning to his girlfriend. "Jack, this is Amélie. Am, this is my brother, Jack."

Amélie felt like all the moisture in her mouth had disappeared, her hand gripping Luke's with a vice-like strength. She opened her mouth to speak, but all her words got stuck. "I, uh, I... hi."

"Nice to meet you, Amélie," Jack said. "Luke's told me loads about you."

She gave him a tight lipped smile, her mind scrambling to find a response, but nothing came. She felt like the weight of everyone's expectations were holding her down. She wanted to wow everyone with perfect English, but all she could do was stand there, frozen.

"She, uh, she's a little nervous," Luke interjected. "Amélie's from Québec, she's here in Jersey to learn English. But her French is like the most impressive shit ever."

"No worries. We're just happy you're here," Nico spoke up.

Amélie forced a smile, but it didn't reach her eyes. She sat down beside Luke, her hand still gripping his with immense force. The conversation around the table picked back up, but she remained quiet.

The guys were easygoing, laughing and joking with each other, and the other girlfriends seemed just as relaxed. The more they spoke though, the harder it became for her to follow. She could pick up on bits and pieces of what was going on, but she couldn't seem to form a complete sentence in her head.

"So, how do you like Jersey so far?" one of the other girlfriends, Lexi, asked with a warm smile.

"It... it's very different. But I... I like it," she replied, her eyes not leaving Luke's hand in her lap.

"She thinks back home is wayyyy prettier. Right, babe?" Luke helped to direct her.

"Yes. Québec is very beautiful."

"So what brought you here?" Jack asked, desperately wanting to know more about the girl that had stolen his brother's heart. "School?"

She bit her lip, trying her best to think of how to reply in English. "Yes... I.... study at Rutgers. Exchange."

"That's awesome. What're you studying?"

Her mind went completely blank. She'd even rehearsed answering that exact question, but now, with everyone looking at her, the words were gone. Her hand tightened around Luke's again, taking a sip of water to clear her throat.

"She's studying communications and media. But the point of her exchange is to work on her English skills."

"That's sick," Jack nodded along.

The conversation around her continued, a few questions being tossed her way but her responses were usually just a few words, the gaps being filled in by Luke. The group eventually moved on to a story that Nico was telling, and Amélie used the shift of attention to shrink into herself further. She let Luke rest his hand on her bouncing knee in an attempt to calm her nerves, but his touch felt foreign in the situation.

After what felt like hours, but had most likely only been half an hour, she leaned close to Luke, whispering in his ear. "Je vais aux toilettes." She stood up before he could respond, scurrying off to the bathroom.

Jack shot Luke a curious glance, but he just shrugged, trying to mask his own worry.

Amélie slipped into the bathroom, pressing her hands against the sink as she stared at her reflection in the mirror. She felt like she was suffocating, her eyes burning with unshed tears. She hated feeling like an outsider, not being able to connect with Luke's world outside of her.

She wiped under her eyes, praying that her mascara didn't run. She didn't want anyone to know she'd been crying in the bathroom. She just wanted to be like the other girls at the table--relaxed and confident, going with the flow of the conversation.

With one last deep breath, she made her way back to the table. Luke looked up at her as she approached. He could tell something was off.

"Everything okay?"

She just nodded, falling back into her silence at the table. She laughed when everyone else laughed, smiling politely when someone made a remark towards her. Luke had never seen her so quiet in his life, not even on the first day that they met. By the time everyone had left the bar, her anxiety was so bad she thought she might puke.

Luke opened the car door for her, and she slid in, staring blankly out the window. The silence between them was heavy. Luke could feel it too, his fingers tapping nervously on the steering wheel.

"Am, what's wrong? You've been quiet all night. You barely said a thing."

The tears that she had been fighting so hard to keep at bay finally spilled out. "I... I feel so stupid. I-I couldn't even talk to them. I couldn't even... act normal."

He reached out, placing a hand on her thigh. His heart clenched at her words. "You're not stupid, Am. You're doing amazing. You're learning a whole new language, that's huge."

"But I had to have you help on everything. I could... not even answer Jack's questions. They normally think... I'm dumb. Not good for you." She wiped at her eyes, frustrated with herself for crying.

"Amélie, baby. No one thinks you're dumb. And you are more than good enough for me--don't you ever doubt that. Jack loved meeting you. Everyone did. I could tell. They don't care if you need some help speaking English. Hell, some of those guys could use the help speaking English."

"I wanted... to be better. To show I can do this. But I feel...lost."

"You don't have to show anyone that you can do anything. Not to me, not to Jack, not to anyone. I love you for--"

"You love me?"

"Of course I do, Am. I... I didn't want to admit it like this. But... I am so in love with you, Amélie."

"I love you too, Luke. Sorry if I... embarrass you tonight."

"You could never embarrass me, Am. Never ever."

"I-"

"Nope, that's enough out of you. Let's go back to yours and watch that stupid cop show you like."

"Mensonges?"

"If that's what it's called, then yes."

"I love you, Lu."

"I love you too, Am."

~~

"I don't know, Jack. She was so nervous last time..."

"But last time there were other people there too. Just tell her you've got the place to yourself for the night and then I'll walk in a couple hours later and be like 'Oh! Sorry, my plans got cancelled.' And then we can all hangout," Jack suggested.

"I'm not going to lie to her. I'll just ask if she wants to spend the night."

"Come on, Rusty! You know I'm just trying to help her relax around me. You're making it sound like a big deal. It's not! She's your girlfriend, and I want to get to know her. Plus, I'll make it fun! I'm good with people."

"I appreciate the thought, Jack. But I want her to feel comfortable, not tricked. So I'll just ask her if she wants to come over and spend the night. No tricks."

"Fine, fine. Let me know what she says."

"I will. Just... don't be an idiot."

~~

Amélie followed Luke into his apartment, her backpack thrown over his shoulder. She looked around, noticing how painfully obvious it was that two men lived there.

"I'm just gonna put your bag in my room. You wanna go make yourself comfortable on the couch?"

"Sure."

She sat down, curling her legs under herself, glancing around the living room. She picked up the remote off the coffee table, fiddling with while she waited for Luke.

"You good?"

"Yeah. Just... taking in. It is very... you."

"What, you mean messy?"

She giggled, then tension in her shoulders disappearing. "Maybe... un peu."

"Hey, it's organized chaos, baby. I know where everything is. Well... most of the time."

"I like it. Feels... comfortable. Like you."

"That's all I want, babe. For you to be comfortable."

"Where's Jack?"

"Probably in his room. Why? Wanna talk with him?"

Amélie quickly shook her head, her eyes widening. "No, no... just wonder. I don't want to... bother him."

"You're not bothering him. He's probably playing video games or doing some stupid shit. He'll come out here eventually."

The last time she'd been around Jack, she hadn't been able to shake her nerves. Tonight, she was determined to make a better impression, even if she still felt like puking.

Luke gently nudged her with his elbow. "Hey, you're good, Am. Jack's chill. You don't have to be nervous."

"I know... just... want him to like me."

"He already likes you," Luke reassured, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "He wouldn't shut up about how cool you were after the last time."

"Really?"

"Yes, really. I wouldn't lie to you, silly."

"Love you, Lu."

"Love you too," he leaned in to kiss her when footsteps pulled them apart.

"Aww, did I interrupt a moment?" Jack's teasing voice came from the doorway.

"Relax, Jack. We were just talking... about you."

"Oh yeah?" Jack pushed himself off the wall, making his way to the couch. "All good things, I hope."

"Duh," Luke squeezed Amélie's hand, allowing her to rest her head on his shoulder. "Amélie was just asking what you were up to."

"Probably nothing interesting compared to you lovebirds. Was talking to Trevor--can't let Luke get ahead of me in the whole having a life department."

She tried to think of a quick response to his joke, but came up with nothing she deemed funny enough.

"Luke tells me you like studying here cause it's different. How so?"

"Um, everything... is feeling bigger here. The city, the campus. And obviously... English. There is like... zero English in my town. We use some words... but not lots."

"Well, seems like you're doing great. Don't stress it. Plus you've got this guy," he gestured to Luke, "to help you out, right?"

She blushed, "Yes, Lu is... super."

Luke grinned, leaning in and whispering, "Told you he likes you."

~~

"I don't know how I'm gonna survive without you, Am," Luke admitted, wiping the tears from his face. His usually calm, relaxed demeanor was gone, replaced with a raw vulnerability.

Amélie had told herself she wasn't going to cry, but seeing Luke cry made that impossible. Her tears had started as soon as his had. "You will, Lu. You are so strong. And... I will not be gone forever."

He shook his head, intertwining their fingers. "I know, but... shit's gonna feel so different without you here. I'm used to having you here all the time. And now I won't see you until summer. I don't know how to do that."

"You'll have Jack, the guys, your family. I'm just... a plane away. We will FaceTime, and before you know... I am back. And I will meet Quinn... and your parents."

Luke rested his head in her lap, letting her run her fingers through his hair. She could feel his tears soaking the fabric of her jeans. "I'm gonna miss you so fucking much, Am."

"I'll miss you too, Lu. So, so much."

They stayed like that for a long time, just wrapped in each other's embraces. Neither of them wanted to let go. Neither of them wanted to admit how hard the next few months would be. They just wanted to stay together... forever.

~~

Amélie was sitting at her desk, her phone propped up against her water bottle as Luke's face filled the screen. His hair was a mess and his eyes drooping. She could tell he had just gotten home from practice.

"Hey, beautiful," he greeted.

"Hey, you," she replied, resting her chin on her hand. "How was practice?"

"Exhausting," he groaned. "But seeing your face makes it better."

Amélie blushed, biting her lip as she smiled. Before she could respond, she heard her brothers' voices coming from down the hall.

"Ah, c'est qui, Amélie?" (who is it, Amélie?)

"Son chum?" the other laughed. (her boyfriend?)

"Ahhh, mais Luke, t'es ben chix." (Ahhh, but Luke, you're so hot.)

"Ferme ta gueule!" Amélie shouted. (Shut your mouth!)

Luke burst out laughing at the look on his girlfriend's face. "What're they saying?"

She huffed, rolling her eyes. "They're being idiots. Teasing me about you."

"Teasing, huh?" He raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. "What did they say? Come on, tell me."

She sighed, getting closer to the camera with a small smirk. "They said you're... how would that translate.... that you're 'hot.'"

"Oh, did they know? You must have good pictures of me hanging up then, huh?"

"They're just being annoying. They think it's funny to tease me because I love an American."

"Well, tell them I appreciate the compliment. And tell them I say 'hi'," he teased.

Amélie shook her head but shouted, "Luke dit bonjour!"

From the hallway, her brothers responded with exaggerated greetings in their broken English, making the couple laugh.

"They're something else, huh? I can't wait to meet them one day."

"They'll probably want you to ask Cole for free Habs tickets. But... in a few weeks, I'll be back and I'll get to meet all of your family."

Luke's eye lit up at the thought. "I know! I've been counting down the days, baby. I can't wait for you to be here again!"

"Me neither. Excited to meet Quinn and your parents."

"Yeah, my mom's super excited to meet you!"

"I'm a little nervous though."

"Don't be! They are gonna love you so much, Am!"

"I love you, Lu."

"I love you more, Amélie. Only a few more weeks, then we'll be together again. I can't wait."

"You promise?"

"I promise. And I'm gonna spoil you so much. Just you, me, and the lake."

"Can't wait."

[ghettogirly]

Ok, What about armando aretas finding out you're pregnant with his baby. He found the stick (anywhere doesn't matter).

𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐎 𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐀𝐒 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐎𝐍:

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: 𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐎 𝐗 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

-> synopsis: what would armando be like if he found out you was pregnant?

-> theme: angst and fluff.

-> warnings: mention of abortion, mature language.

-> authors note: i’m currently posting this to keep you guys fulfilled while im working on some short stories. those take longer than these little headcanons so i apologise for the wait! hope you enjoy!! Let me know if you guys want a taglist as well.

[🕷️] 𝐍𝐄𝐆𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍:

-> 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐒𝐔𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐃 that you was pregnant about a week ago when you kept throwing up in the morning and was more light headed than usual.

-> telling your friends about your symptoms one day at brunch caused them all to look at you with widened eyes, their faces being explicit with the same expression. Fear.

-> “bitch, you’re pregnant.”

-> “what is armando going to think about this?”

-> what is armando going to think about this.

-> she was right.

-> you guys have never even discussed having kids before, both still being fairly young as you were under the age of 25.

-> you only worked in a cake shop as you was still a student, trying to finish your college degree.

-> the weight of your friends opinions dawned on you as you slowly sipped the lemonade you bought, the icy temperature of the drink awakening your nerves.

-> “fuck.”

-> 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐋𝐔𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐊 laid there on the marble countertop as both of your hands were rested by it side by side. Your hair hung down as you stared at it.

-> It was really true. You was pregnant.

-> The overwhelming thoughts clouded your mind, removing the ability for you to be happy about the idea of motherhood. Instead somber about this rude awakening. It wasn’t meant to happen now. Was it ever supposed to happen?

-> You and Armando never even spoke about the possibility of kids, just focusing on your free-spirited relationship as you both did whatever you pleased. Parties, meetings, the thrill of running from danger, running from law enforcement.

-> That was all going to change.

-> A wet feeling landed on your hand. Then another and another. It was teardrops. The transparent dots of water dropped onto your hand, staining them a little. Eventually an avalanche of tears would cascade down your face, causing you to uncontrollably sob as the obsessive thoughts became more and more out of control.

-> “Babe, ¿Estás aquí?”

-> Your eyes quickly widened as you heard a voice downstairs in the living room, the only man having that deep of a voice, your man. Armando. Quickly wiping your tears, you threw the stick into the bin next to the toilet, walking out of there as if nothing happened.

-> However, it was as if Armando sensed something was wrong. Not being a man of many words, he just simply raised his eyebrow at you, referencing for you to tell him what’s wrong. Yet, you just rolled your eyes and smiled. “Nothing is up.”

-> Still not satisfied he looked at you intensely, his face stoic as ever. Nevertheless, he left it alone and trusted you to tell him eventually. “Perdón por llegar tarde, estaba ocupado.”

-> You bring him into a hug, not caring about him being late. Just being happy he’s finally home. He wrapped his arms around you, engaging with the hug as his pointer finger tapped you gently on your back. That being a little thing he does, acknowledging how much he missed you.

-> 𝐀 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐏𝐋𝐄 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒 𝐏𝐀𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐃, you was passed out on the couch after watching a movie with Armando. Your empty takeout boxes being on the table.

-> Armando went upstairs to shower, allowing the water to cleanse not only his body but his mind too, the day for him being exhausting. He moved his hand to turn the water faucet off, his black hair being a wet mess, dripping slightly on his shoulders.

-> The male opened the shower door. Picking up the towel from the sink, he noticed something stand out from his peripheral vision. He moved his head slightly to turn towards the object that caught his attention, noticing a blue and white stick on top of the trash within the bin.

-> Peering down at it, he noticed it to be a pregnancy stick. “¿Qué es esto..?”

-> 𝐖𝐀𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐔𝐏, you notice Armando in front of you. Slamming the object down onto the table, he looked at you. Anger controlled every feature of his face as he stood there. Digusted.

-> “Espero que lo estés terminando.”

[🕷️] 𝐀𝐋𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆:

-> 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐀𝐖𝐎𝐊𝐄𝐍 𝐁𝐘 𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐎 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐋𝐘 𝐓𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃𝐄𝐑. You slowly sat up, facing him as his eyes were struck with concern. Still adjusting to reality, you rubbed your eyes. “What’s wrong?”

-> There he gently placed the stick on the table. Not saying a word, just looking back at you, waiting for you to lead the conversation. “I was going to tell you.”

-> “It was in the trash.”

-> You couldn’t object to that, he was right. You wasn’t really going to tell him, hoping that it was all just a lie and that the stick wasn’t even real. Hoping it was one big dream.

-> Looking at him solemnly, you felt your eyes welling up with tears the second time that day. This time, he didn’t say anything but embraced you into a hug instead, kissing your forehead.

-> “Enfermo nunca te dejan.. i would never abandon you.”

-> Those words were the music to your ears. “Damn these pregnancy hormones are annoying.”

[🕷️] 𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐒𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒:

“¿Estás aquí?” : Are you here?

“Perdón por llegar tarde, estaba ocupado.” : Sorry for being late, i was busy.

“¿Qué es esto..?” : What is this?

“Espero que lo estés terminando.” : I hope you’re terminating it.

“Enfermo nunca te dejan..” : I’ll never leave you.

[woso-dreamzzz]

Injured (Alexia's Version)

Alexia Putellas x Child!Reader

Summary: You come home

You don't understand what's going on.

Well, you do but you don't know why everyone is acting so weird.

Last night, Ma-Jenni held you and cried. She cried and cried and you tried to make her feel better but she just cried more. You're not very good at making people feel better.

She held you and cried and looked at you like she was trying to memorise your face and your voice and the feel of you in her arms. She gave you a scrap of paper with her number and she made you promise to call her if you needed anything. Anything at all.

You'd promised but you didn't know why it was so important.

Tia Alba was angry this morning. You don't think she was angry at you because she made you a big breakfast and gave you lots of kisses but she's got a big frown on her face and she can't stop shaking her head even as she walks with you.

Ma-Jenni left early this morning, back to Mexico. She was still crying as she left and she held you for so long and she told you she loved you so much.

You don't know why that made you cry too but it did and now she's gone back to football and you're walking with your Tia Alba down a familiar street to a familiar house.

Tia Alba has your bags and she's got the presents you've yet to open that Mami made Abuela give you when you first lived with Tia Alba.

You don't understand what's happening, not really. Ma-Jenni is gone and Tia Alba is angry and you...You are walking to Mami's house.

It's exactly as you remember it, down to the cars in the driveway and the peeling paint of the front garden fence. The bushes are still cut to perfection and there's still one, two, three tulips that are just beginning to bloom.

The door is the same, right down to the old doorknocker no one uses sitting next to the shiny new doorbell that everyone likes to press.

Tia Alba looks at you. She kneels down at you and cups your face.

She's wearing her serious face. You don't see it often and she uses it to look at you, all serious and stern.

She's got the same serious face as Mami, you think.

You wonder if you've got the same serious face as Mami too.

Abuela is walking down the path to the door too. She takes your other hand, gently running her fingers over your knuckles.

You look up at her, little brows furrowed in confusion.

You know Ma-Jenni is gone now. You know you are now at Mami's door. You know that there is tension in the air. You know that Tia Alba is angry, fuming even but she bites her tongue because Abuela is here.

Abuela looks calm. She doesn't look worried or angry like Tia Alba. Abuela is the head of the family, you know this too. She is in charge of everything.

In Mami's house, Mami is the boss but Abuela is the family boss and that's different. Mami can make all the decisions she wants but if Abuela doesn't like it then it changes because Abuela is in charge deep down.

You think Abuela must have made a family decision again. She doesn't make them often but when she does, they're serious.

You don't think Tia Alba likes this decision.

Her grip on your hand tightens and she glares daggers at Abuela, who just raises her chin in defiance and stares back.

They hold eye contact for a long time but Tia Alba breaks first. She lowers her head, ducking down so her chin is nearly pressed to her chest and she's looking at you.

She pulls you closer to her, an arm on your shoulder.

Your hand is pulled from Abuela's but she makes no complaint even though you can see her eye twitch in annoyance.

Mami's eye does that too sometimes.

You look up at Mami's door. You wonder if it grew because it's never looked so big before. But it's the same door as the Before, right down to the rusty old doorknocker and the shiny, new doorbell. Everyone ignores the doorknocker now that there's something new. Everyone always uses the doorbell.

You wonder if one day that doorbell will stop working and be left to rot while a newer, even more shiny model takes its place.

"Are you ready, Bambi?" Abuela asks.

"Am I seeing Mami?" You ask back.

Abuela smiles. "Did your Tia explain what's going on today?"

You shake your head.

"You're going home," Abuela says. She reaches for the doorbell and, for some reason, you feel very sorry for the doorknocker. "I bet you've missed the trains in your room."

You don't know if you've missed those trains. You've gotten a few new ones that you really like but you haven't thought much of the old ones.

Abuela smiles at you. Her hand moves to ring the doorbell.

You wonder why nobody uses the doorknocker anymore. It does the same job. It's the same thing as the doorbell if you really think about it. It's just old. It still works. It's just a little stiff sometimes.

The doorknocker is the same as the doorbell. It just needs some more love.

The door swings open though, before Abuela can touch the doorbell.

Mami stands there. She looks nervous, wringing her hands and fidgeting with her feet.

She looks soft though, in a strange way. Her clothes look warm, a pair of trackie bottoms and a fuzzy t-shirt that could have easily been a sleepytime shirt.

Her hair is loose around her shoulders, all wavy and soft. At the very top, you can see her normal hair colour poke through and she smiles at you, all nervous and shy.

"Hi, Bambi," She says, her voice sounding breathless like she'd just run laps at training.

"Hi, Mami," You reply.

Abuela goes in first. Mami steps back to let her in but she doesn't follow after her. She lingers by the front door, still wearing her shy smile.

Tia Alba holds you back there.

There is more tension now, as Tia Alba and Mami stare at each other. They say nothing. No one moves an inch until Tia Alba very slightly loosens her grip and nudges you indoors.

The house is the same as it was before, kind of.

The furniture is all in the same place. None of it has been moved but there are pictures up on the walls and your own smiling face is looking back at you.

It's in the very centre of the living room.

It's the day Jaume was born. You're sitting on a chair by Olga's bed. Jaume is in a little bundle of blankets in your arms and Mami is standing behind your chair, looking down at you both.

There's more of Jaume on the walls too but the same amount of you as well.

Your eyes drift to the fridge where there's a picture of little baby Jaume in Mami's arms and then a picture of little baby you in her arms too.

She's younger in that picture and she looks a lot more tired, lying in a hospital bed like the one Olga was lying in when she had Jaume. She looks content though, the Mami in the picture that is.

The house is the same but it is still different.

Abuela sits in an armchair and Olga sits on the sofa with Jaume on her lap.

He's looking around, head swivelling. His legs kick out as he spots you, babbling non-words and sticking his fist into his mouth.

"That's right," Olga says," That's your big sister."

Tia Alba's hand is easy to move out from under and you very cautiously pad closer to baby Jaume. He is not that different from that day last week in the park when you feel off the slide and Mami came over to give you kisses.

"Hi, Jaume," You say, your voice barely a whisper.

"Do you want to go and see your room, Bambi?" Olga asks you.

You haven't thought about your room in a long while. You don't think you can remember what it looks like.

So, you nod because you know that you're inside Mami's house now but you don't know why.

"I can take you!" Mami blurts out before immediately going shy again," I mean...if you want, Bambi. It's all up to you."

You don't know why that makes you happy, Mami saying that it's up to you. You don't know why that makes your tummy go all fuzzy and makes you feel all warm, like a big hug.

You look at Mami carefully. She doesn't look different but there's something about her that is different.

You don't know what it is but there's something.

Your voice isn't above a whisper again. "Yes, please, Mami."

She very gently takes your hand in hers, shouldering all of the bags that Tia Alba brought over with your things.

She leads you down the hall and up the stairs. The second door on the left is your room. That's always been your room, for as long as you can remember.

It is still yours.

It has your trains in it. It has all of your train tracks and your soft bed with your Thomas the Tank Engines bedsheets and your train shaped nightlight and your little train slippers.

You haven't been home for a long time but none of it is dusty.

There is a new addition though. On the far wall is a big mirror. A mirror like the ballet mirror at the dance studio. It's actually attached to the wall.

You step closer until your nose is practically pressed against it.

There is a rustle behind you and Mami is holding the wrapped present that you noticed on your bed when you came in.

It is very big and long and you pad closer.

"I'm sorry that I didn't do this for you earlier," Mami says to you," And I am very, very sorry for forgetting you. It was not nice of me and I wasn't being a good Mami to you. I am very, very sorry and it is never going to happen again."

You search her face for a lie. You search her face for something that shows she isn't telling the truth.

Mami holds the present out for you.

You slowly and quietly tear off the wrapping paper.

It is barre, just like the ones at ballet. It is in a box but the box shows what it is so you know that it is a ballet barre.

Mami turns you around, so you're looking at the reflection of you and her in the mirror.

"We're going to put it right here," She says," We can attach it to the wall so you can practice at home."

You've never practised your ballet at home before. You don't know why but you haven't. You can practice now though, with a mirror and a barre and Mami looking at you like you're one of the stars in the sky.

Something wet and warm drips down your cheeks and you let out a choked whine. It's a sound you haven't heard from yourself in a while but once it's out, it keeps coming. With every inhale, you make a little noise as tears drip-drop down your cheeks.

You turn away from the mirror and hide yourself in Mami's chest. Her arms wraps around you easily, warm and safe.

"Oh, bambi," She whispers," I'm sorry. I'm sorry, my perfect girl. I'm sorry. We don't have to put it up if you don't want to. I'm sorry, beautiful. It's okay. It was a silly idea. It's your room."

"Ma-Mami," You whine," Want it, please."

You're happy but you're crying. You don't know why.

You're still little. You don't know a lot.

But you know a few things.

Ma-Jenni has gone back to Mexico. Tia Alba has brought all of your things back home. Mami is going to put up a ballet barre in your room. You will use the doorknocker again.

You are happy, you think. Or, at least, you are happier than the not-quite Before. You will be happy though, eventually. Somehow, that is something else you know for certain.

Mami sits with you on your bedroom floor for a long while until you stop crying and your tears are no longer red and puffy.

"I love you, Bambi," She tells you," I don't tell you nearly enough as I should but I love you and you are the most perfect girl in the whole world. I. Love. You."

"I love you too, Mami."

"I love you more," Mami promises you.

You think she means it too.

You think Mami really means what she's telling you.

That makes you feel all warm and fuzzy. You want everyone to feel all warm and fuzzy too.

The train that you wanted for ages with the removable top and the little people sits on the bed.

It still hasn't been opened.

"Can I play trains with you?" You ask Mami," And show it to baby Jaume and Olga?"

"Of course, Bambi," Mami says," We can play trains whenever you want."

You smile and take Mami's hand.

You lead her back to the living room and she helps you open your new train.

She sits on the floor.

You sit on her lap.

Olga sits on the floor too.

Jaume sits on her lap.

You show Mami how the train works and she oohs and aahs over it. Olga does too and Jaume seems very interested and you let him touch one of the carriages when he reaches for it.

Mami is familiar against you. She is warm. She is soft. She is safe, you think, or she could be. She will be, you decide.

Just like you decide that tomorrow you are going to use that doorknocker.

It deserves love too.

[hollyhomburg]

Before I Leave You (Pt.75)

(Omegaverse au, Mafia au, Bts x Reader)

Summary: Getting you home and into the nest before your heat hits proves to be a bit more of a challenge than Namjoon anticipated.

Tags: forced caretaking, slight loss of autonomy, feral omega's, m/c acts a little violent at the beginning, biting, blood, brief blood play, kinda inspection kink if you squint, body worship, preheat, non- sexual nudity, cramps, scenting, nesting, mindless fluff, hurt/comfort, omega/omega content, possessive behavior, omegaspace, yoongi has slight self-esteem issues, discussed past abuse but everything is better, manhandling,

W/c: 13.7k

A/n: I feel guilty because i had to snip this chapter in half because there was simply too much stuff going on in my life at the moment and i didn't want to go more than a month between updates. on the bright side i will try to get the second part out quicker, and i will also be very drunk at a engagement party when this is posted <3 gotta love that for me.

Previous part - Masterlist - First part

Yoongi stands on the porch, watching the street.

The warm air tickles the hair on his forehead, bringing with it the familiar smell of ocean brine and a faint daffodil from across the street. The streetlight isn’t bright enough to cast them into anything like color, but the smell remains- still it’s not the scent that he’s looking for. The scent that Yoongi’s body hungers for.

That’s why he looks into the street, looks to the end of it where the tallest streetlights glimmer lighting up the concrete and the stop sign.

Looking for you and coming up empty handed.

His heart beats hard at the passing headlights of every car. Every thrum of wheels against the ground makes his body perk up. And every car that passes without turning in makes his hopes come crashing down. Like a seesaw, up and down. Like the ocean's rising tides reaching for the shore and finding it always a little out of reach.

Logically, Yoongi knows they have at least another hour, but it's hard to tell his instinct that- to detangle the fear in his chest and make something useful of it.

2 hours ago. That’s when he called you. Panicked and nervous about ruining your vacation- only to greet similar panic down the line.

Yoongi had been right earlier. Yoongi doesn't know if he feels vindicated or sick with worry. Self-assured or absolutely terrified. He’d been right, but he hadn’t believed in himself. He'd known and yet he hadn’t done anything about it, hadn't put his foot down or kept you home and kept you safe. you are halfway across the state where he cannot help, cannot touch you, cannot ease this pain.

All because he didn't speak up. All because he was trying to be a good mate and was trying to let you make decisions for yourself. something in him, deep and dark and hungry, says 'See, this is why she needs you, see? This is why you should be more firm. The others are allowed why not you?

Yoongi quiets the voice but does not stop feeding it. You'd sounded so small over the line, your voice so quiet and so tired.

Jin’s loud shouts punctuate the night-time quiet. The interior of the house is similarly a place of worry strife and instinct as night falls. Yoongi can just barely make out Jin's words as he barks orders at Jimin and Tae to move it this way no move it that way. A distant laugh is a balm to Yoongi’s nerves. Drawing a smile to his lips even now. Even bratty, even in pre-heat the pack still clamber to do everything their pack omega asks.

Yoongi isn't just worried about you, he's worried about Jin too. Any other time he would be inside and helping Jin make the heat nest. holding him and easing away his instincts, making him calm in the way that the others- not even Jungkook- can.

But this heat is not going to be like the others.

The pack has never handled two heats at once before. Two ruts? Sure. That happens more often. Jimin and Tae go in spits and spurts, in sync one rut and then out of sync the next. But Yoongi has a feeling that everything is about to change. It's not abnormal for an alpha to skip a rut or an omega to skip a heat with the addition of a new packmate. But this? Two omegas in heat all at once?

Yoongi feels more than a trickle of fear.

Nesting instincts are an endless chaffing in pre-heat. The last time Yoongi dared venture inside the house Jungkook was dragging the bulk of the pack's nesting material into the basement to wash it preemptively. By now they're probably already drying. Probably being dumped warm on top of the broody pack omega inside, enough to placate him temporarily.

"What did you do with my pup! Nest theif! I want my pup"

Jinnie sounds close to tears, Jimin's low voices must not be soothing because Yoongi hears a hiss and a the telltale thump of a pillow thrown against a door. Yoongi winces.

He hopes Jin doesn't hit a window. He's got frightfully good aim, so there's a good chance he won't actually try to destroy the house.

If they’re lucky they’ll have another day before the heat is in full swing. If they're not lucky it will hit by tomorrow morning. Regardless of when it actually hits. The pack has another hour before they have two cranky omegas in pre-heat, and that's more than they could hope for.

Yoongi should be doing prep work. He should be cutting up fruit or putting in another food order for tomorrow morning (that was the first thing he did after getting off the phone with you). It's too late to sneak away to the store; Jin's instincts might take it as a threat and make his heat come quicker to keep Yoongi close by. Yoongi should make sure that the pack has enough protein bars and easy-to-eat things for you and Jin.

Your body not being strong enough was the whole reason why you never went into heat in the first place- making sure this doesn't strain you too much should be his primary concern.

And yet, all Yoongi can do is look out at the driveway and wait for you to come home. Watching the darkness for headlights like people check the night sky for shooting stars and eventual wishes. There are things to do and meals to cook, nesting material to gather and wash. But Yoongi is still as a statue, standing watch and keeping guard. Shaking just a little- although he's not sure if it's nerves or just the cold.

(Frozen in fear, absolutely scared shitless, body a mess of misfiring anxiety and worry. Breathes coming quick. Goosebumps. The idea of every little bad thing that's ever happened to you that could continue to happen. Hurtling down his train of thought like a runaway car. Endlessly hurtling in a single direction towards a singular direction.)

Thank God it’s just you and Jin. If Jungkook went into heat too- who knows what the pack would do.

Yoongi’s fingers continue their drumming on the banister, Yoongi watches the moths flutter around the streetlight in the center of the cul-de-sac.

The door behind him opens letting the sounds from inside spill out onto the porch. And Hobi who has narrowly escaped Jin’s wrath with a fresh-looking pink hickey on his throat.

Yoongi wouldn’t be surprised if everyone inside wore his mark, it’s likely they’ll wear it before the night is through. Jin’s snappish reply of. “No- not there Kookie- here- like this-”

Yoongi winces. And tells himself that whatever scratches are left on the floor from them rearranging furniture will be worth the effort it eventually takes to buff them out.

Jin is a bratty commander when it comes to making a heat nest, they’ve been working on it for the better part of the last few hours. Making it perfect- making it for you. Everyone knows that Jin won't stop until you're home. You're to be the finishing touch, the last and most important addition.

Hobi stands in the doorway for a second calling yoongi's name softly. The sound is honey-soft in the nighttime quiet. Yoongi's teeth worry away at his lower lip.

Yoongi doesn’t turn, Yoongi can’t turn away from the street, even as Hobi comes up behind him and sets a warm palm on his shoulder.

“If you won’t come inside, will you at least put on a jacket?”

Yoongi doesn’t want to, if only to punish himself with the chill in the air. You must be cold too- an omega in heat outside of a nest and without enough packmates to help you regulate your body temperature seems so neglectful.

He doesn’t respond, but a few seconds later a thick blanket that smells of Jin hyung (overly sweet, overly syrupy even to Yoongi’s dull nose) is placed around his shoulders. When he turns away from the street for a second, Hobi grins a little nervously.

“It was the only way I could get him to agree to let you stay outside.”

Yoongi bites his lip and doesn’t speak- feeling like if he does something embarrassing or scary will happen (or both). Hobi nuzzles into the side of Yoongi’s face, ignoring the way that Yoongi subtly shifts away. All too aware of Yoongi's predicament. Does Hobi know how unworthy he feels of the touch? That he feels he doesn't deserve the comfort?

Stepping up close behind until he can feel the alpha’s heat behind his back. Hooking his chin over his shoulder and nosing into his throat. Yoongi knows his scent smells sour and salty, knows it but Hobi doesn't recoil.

(The monstrous thing in Yoongi's chest that wants and wants and wants does not get room to move around, mostly because Yoongi does not feed it. He keeps his ego and his arrogance on a tight leash, a leash that your love holds the other end of. A many-headed dog like Cerberus guarding the underworld. Yoongi's desires and you. Two similarly sinful pursuits on either side of the scale judging Yoongi neither monster nor man).

Yoongi doesn't know what's wrong. Is this what the heat feels like? Coming down the mating mark?

“Are you okay?” Hobi asks, even though he must already know and can certainly scent it on him. Yoongi doesn’t look at Hobi, worried he’ll break if he does. “You can tell me you know? It's okay I'm-" I’m her person too, I’m worried too.

Yoongi could let it go. Yoongi could say nothing and he knows that Hobi would let him- but- but-  

The words come out all at once, scared and quick. Yoongi is so scared and he doesn’t know what to do. Yoongi is a mess of emotions, some overlapping and some contradictory. He's feeling so many things at once and all he can do is stand here and watch the fucking street.

“I don’t know how to do any of this.”

Yoongi turns back to look at Hobi anxiously. “Jin and Jungkook- that’s different. That you know I’ve done before but-” Yoongi hesitates. “I’ve never helped her through a heat before and Jin is so particular. What if she- what if I'm not-"

Yoongi takes a shaky breath. What if she needs more than I can give her, what if she doesn’t want me to touch her. What if we’re not back there yet. I've treated her so poorly the last few weeks. I'd understand. I'll have to understand if she says she doesn't want me.

Yoongi's instincts rage, Pacing the inside of his mind like a trapped zoo animal. A monster that's never allowed out, aching to stretch its claws.

Ruts and heats have a way of bringing out your hidden wants and desires. The things you’ve been holding back, and what you haven’t said.

There are other reasons why omegas usually mate alphas. The fact of the matter is that Yoongi might not be able to sate you in the way that matters.

It's simple biology; Yoongi does not have a knot.

Jin and Jungkook don't calm until they get one and neither does their heat fever. A heat fever is something that can actually be dangerous for Jungkook and his seizures. He doesn't usually have them during his heat, but the few times he has have not ideal.

Yoongi's usual job during heats is not the same as Hobi, Jimin, or Namjoon and Tae. Yoongi's there to settle, to ease. Usually, he's the only scent that the omega can tolerate during pre-heat. The only scent that doesn't bring about headaches and nausea.

But he can't even do that right, smelling sour as he does and miserable with you so far away. Yoongi has never wished he was born an alpha, never, but it’s hard not to wish it just a little right now.

As if on cue, deep in the house Jin snaps at Jimin harshly. “Not there, please don’t put it like that Minnie- Minnie- stop.”

And then the next minute Jin goes back on it as if recognizing his harsh tone. turns from angry to teary and overwhelmed in an instant. “I’m sorry Minnie I didn’t mean to yell at you.”

“It’s okay hyung. Just tell me where it needs to be.”

Understanding and allowances are offered to omegas in pre-heat. Jin's instincts are probably making him feel ten times as worse than anything said in the pre-heat of the moment could. The pack won't take anything said personally.

But you might if Jin snaps at you. Yoongi knows it might actually hurt you. You're sensitive like that. Delicate. Too delicate to be going through your pre-heat in a fucking moving car. Yoongi's stomach lurches at the horror of it.

“I’ve kept my distance but now-”

“And now you feel like that might bite you in the ass because you’re not where you should be to help her with her heat.”

“Yeah,” Yoongi’s eyes are glassy in the light of the streetlight.

“I’ve never helped her with this before. I don’t know what she likes or what she doesn’t, I don’t know where the boundaries are and I’m really-” he takes a steadying breath, “really used to that.” This is one of the few things that you and Yoongi have yet to go through. That he has yet to understand about you.

Hobi swallows, “This is new for all of us then.”

Yoongi glances at Hobi's face, letting out another breath; less shaky. Hobi looks out at the street. He doesn't look worried; he doesn't even look nervous. Hobi has every reason to be a little bit tentative around omegas and their heats and he can count the number of times you've had sex on both hands. But if he's afraid or unsure, he doesn't show any of it.

“It’s okay not to have all the answers. It’s okay to be scared and worried. If you wanted to not help-" Hobi sighs, "I don’t know."

Yoongi shakes his head firmly the second Hobi voices it. “No, I want to. I’d never ever do that to her. Never. It's just scary.”  I’m just scared. Yoongi’s arms are wrapped around his body, but his hand hovers over his hip, and Hobi notices for the first time how he’s cradling it.

“The mating mark- it’s so tender. It actually hurts right now. I think it’s telling me I need to be close to her.”

With alpha's and omega's who are mated, a mark often means that one heat triggers a rut and vice versa- or at least false heat and false rut. Hobi is unsurprised that Yoongi is feeling at least something.

“I’m sure she wants to be close to you too hyung.” Yoongi’s eyes go darker and it’s like he’s not sure if he really believes him. He doesn’t want to call Hobi out on placating him. So instead- hoseok changes the subject.

“What does the mating mark feel like?” Hobi has never asked. Yoongi goes quiet, palm lays flat over Hobi’s chest not exactly over his heart but close to the bone. Where Hobi’s ribs and all of him connect covered by a thin layer of muscle and skin.

For a second Hobi would swear he feels some horrible terrible ache.

“It feels like there’s an emptiness here, an emptiness so hollow that it hurts. It’s like a scab you want to pick or an itch. Not a wound but something different. It's like needing to breathe and holding your breath. Like being hungry only you can’t eat. Like wanting to sleep but you can't dream. It's like that, all at once and all the time.” Hobi’s breath hitches, bones and body expanding against Yoongi’s touch. “And it only goes away when she’s next to me.”

Hobi’s eyelashes flutter, “Namjoon and Jin, and Tae and Jimin- when they-”

“Oh, they’re gonna be fucking ridiculous, absolutely impossible. Jin isn’t gonna let Joonie out of his sight. I think Jimin will go legitimately crazy too- if he's not already. It was a lot worse at the beginning. Even her sneezing felt scary, like leaving the room for a tissue was gonna take all of me with her."

Yoongi and you don't talk about your beginning often- those few months that you both lived in this house and adjusted to each other without the pack. Hobi’s hand settles on the back of Yoongi’s neck, and it's like he can touch those moments like this, run his fingers along the strings of fate that have bound you and Yoongi so close it's hard to detangle either of you. He can feel your name in every pulse of Yoongi's heart, the rhythm and the melody to his being.

Maybe it's a good thing this wasn't me, maybe it's a good thing that I never had this choice Hobi thinks. Although there is still time- Jungkook doesn't want to mate- and the pack already has it's decided pairs. Hobi might not want it to be anyone but you.

Who knows who he might have become. What he might have done as your mate. Yoongi has never second guessed himself for Jin or Jungkook's heats before.

Yoongi does not growl and snap his teeth at the shadows. Yoongi doesn't even pace, he just stands and waits.

Hobi pulls him to rest back against his chest and Yoongi goes quiet. And when he looks up, he looks so scared, so young and Hobi knows he’s just terrified. Hobi presses his face into the side of Yoongi’s neck, nuzzling against his scent gland in little circles. Rubbing cheek to cheek to soothe his anxious scent, not all the way but just a little.

Hobi might be making things up, but for a second- it almost smells like Yoongi’s a little sweeter- smelling a little muskier, whatever part of his body that is bonded to yours already adjusting for the necessary stress of the next few days. Mate’s bodies are so perfectly in sync.

“You’re her mate,” Hobi says it like that’s all there is to it, voiced hushed and reverent with the truth of it.

“But what if I'm not enough and I want to be enough."

“You have a pack- you’ve got us. It’s not just on you anymore.”

Yoongi’s heart is thudding so fast, that he feels like he can’t tear his eyes away from the driveway. It will be a few more hours still until you and Namjoon get home.  

Until then, the two of them stand there and wait. Yoongi tips sideways until he’s leaning into Hobi’s chest and Hobi's hands hold Yoongi up, carry the weight of his body. That at least, he can carry.

~-~

The drive home is long and uncomfortable. Several times you double over, curling up in a ball in the front seat, the cramps racking through you violently and without pause.

Everything presses into you, the seatbelt, Namjoon's scent. The distance between you and the house, you and your nest, you and the pack. Everything is an oppressive weight pinning your breath in your chest and making you breathe quick.

Namjoon’s hands stay on the wheel, the back of your neck sometimes. His palm is cool against your clammy skin. Soothing you with grumbles and words of encouragement that do little to actually help the pain. After an hour or so, Namjoon just can’t stop saying, “I’m sorry.” over and over again.

You don’t stop you drive straight through, skirting traffic and long stretches of brake lights that seem to stretch on for miles and bleed into each other. Irritating your eyes and making you close them. Your skin is so oversensitive that every place it touches your scratchy sweater or the leather seat feels like too much, the sensation too vibrant and intense.

You wish Yoongi was here, his clothes are always so soft, and his hair and his skin too. You wish you had his scent on you and not Namjoon's- the thoughts makes you feel so guilty you dare not voice it.   

And then the nausea starts and you have to turn away from Namjoon at every available opportunity so that you don't vomit. Especially when the car lurches. You have him crack the windows and then open them fully the worse it gets; you dry heave out the open window.

“I’m sorry Joonie I don’t know why I'm,” Your face leans against the open door, sweaty somehow but still cold regardless of Namjoon’s jacket over your shoulders and the heat pumping from the vents.

“It’s alright pup, it’s okay, you don't need to apologize. Jin gets this way too.” You couldn’t even pinpoint what was so wrong in his scent if you wanted to but the curdling nature of his liquor in coffee makes you feel like you’ve just taken a dozen shots on Christmas Eve. You feel nauseous, teary-eyed, and upset. Something clawing at your chest that hurts more than anything else.

You must fall asleep at some point, or fall into a stupor because you feel it in your bones that you’re home before Namjoon even fully comes to a halt. Eyes still shut but blood singing and heart beating quick. You hear it, the whisper of your mate’s scent in the air. Maybe someone actually says your name, maybe you hear it from far away.

Your fingers fumble on the door handle and you don’t even have your eyes open as you tumble out of the car. The car lurches to a stop the same second you try to get out, dizzy and off-kilter, trying to get your feet under you while vertigo makes the world spin, the streetlight, a figure silhouetted against the porch light runs to you.

You see him in double vision.

“Pup- Don’t-" But Namjoon is too late to warn you and You fall out of the car onto the gravel.

The momentum of the car takes you, banging into the door first with so much force that it's jaring before you crumple onto the gravel where it digs into your hands sharp. Painful.

But you hardly feel it. Your hands are suddenly slippery with something you can't see. Something you don't care about because you just need to get inside, you just need to get to the figure running towards you. Seeing double- are there two people running towards you or just one?

Dizzy, you are so dizzy and you actually are going to vomit. No sooner have you wretched onto the gravel below you than is someone picking you up, and you actually do let out a high-pitched keen.

His hands are under your arms, the light from the porch casting his face into shadow chiaroscuro, but you'd know him anywhere. If not from his scent or the fluff of his hair then by the way your heart sings when he touches you.

"I've got you, I've got you. Oh sweetheart, it's gonna be okay- i'm here."

Yoongi presses his face to the top of your head. And you grip the front of his jacket while he picks you up. His hand rubbing away the frustrated tears on your cheeks. Hands pushing back the hair from your sweaty face, your flushed cheeks.

And then your hand comes up to touch his face, and both of you see the blood.

There is blood on your hands, on the side of Yoongi's face when you touch him.

Yoongi smells so good, so unbelievably good. Like sleep after sex, like chocolate ice cream in the middle of a summer night, so sweet and heady and musky you start to leak slick a little, Legs shaky. You don't care about the metallic cling of blood to the air. Everything else is unimportant but him and staying close to him.

You shrink away from the tall presence behind you, Namjoon bristles, and Tae is on the top of the steps watching you. Her voice almost hissed. "Don't do that again." Namjoon grips the back of your shirt, huffing a tired sigh.

“Don’t run away from us pup it’s not-”

But then He spots the blood, suddenly strong-arming his way around Yoongi to get to it despite your chirp of protest. Namjoon's hands are big where they clutch at your hands, his hair standing on end. There is another person behind Yoongi. You weren't seeing double.

“Not safe,” Jimin finishes, pulling Yoongi towards the house. And then the wind shifts casting the scent of blood to Jimin and his nostrils flare. His whole body tenses and a growl sounds out before he's even seen, looking down at your hand. Eloquent with his. "Oh- oh fuck- how the fuck did you even fuck up your hand like that?"

"Get her inside" Namjoon barks. His anger a wild thing in the darkness. Your sweet heat scent tangles with the smell of blood sets them all on edge.

"What?" You say, unsticking your tongue from the roof of your mouth, you don't like how cross your alphas sound, "What did I do?"

No one answers you, Yoongi curls around you as if he's trying to use his body to shield you from any prying eyes. Namjoon settles a hand on the back of Yoongi's neck and pushes him towards the house, towards the den, towards safety.

Your knees knock, and then give out. It's only through the virtue of having so many of them around you and Yoongi still basically holding you up that you don't fall over again.

"I'll get your stuff from the car."

"No- leave it Jimin just help me."

The sensations tangle. Jimin and Namjoon and their unhappy scents. Yoongi’s strong arms. Yoongi’s hands on you basically carrying you up and over the slate to the steps. Jimin is close beside him, You glance over Yoongi's shoulder at Jimin, watching his jaw roll. You turn your face away from him and his drawn expression. His stinky stinky vanilla and smoke scent- stale and grating- everything is too much too much too much.

"What's going on? Why can't I stand?" Even your own voice sounds far away.

"It's your blood pressure," Namjoon snaps.

Yoongi’s hard hands grip around your waist and when you pull back a little his dark hair catches the light from the streetlight and he ducks in close. Rubbing his chin across the crown of your head. “I’ve got you; I’ve got you, here- get inside.”

He half carries you half walks you back up the steps under the porch light. Tae opens the door for you huffing, looking tired, a ring of hickeys bitten into her pretty pretty collar bones. You want to rub your face into them and add your own marks but she also smells too intense to get too close. "Pup? What's-"

You push your face into Yoongi’s throat in reply, so close that Yoongi wonders how you must be breathing; all you’re inhaling is his scent. His chocolate is a balm to your heat-fried nerves. But Yoongi feels it too, the pressure behind his eyes, his teeth, itching for a bite to render you docile and calm.

You are losing track of the minutes and moments. You are in the kitchen and your hand is under the water. Yoongi is still holding you, and Namjoon is talking to you. Making you open your palm. You can't hear what he's saying.

You try and lift up your hands, but Tae doesn't let you take Namjoon's jacket from around your shoulders. Seemingly thinking the same thing that Namjoon and the rest of them are.

That you need to be minded. It's not too far from the truth.

Your anxiety and annoyance ticks higher as you look around. Has the house changed in the last 10 hours? Why do the lights feel so bright? There are bags and bags of groceries on the counter, sitting grey-yellow like tumbleweeds, half empty.

The couch has none of its usual blankets on it and it makes your nostrils flare- Jin had a nest there this morning- why isn’t it there? Where did it go? Who took it? Where is your pack omega? Why do you feel so annoyed? Why does everything feel a little bit off?

Where is Jinnie?

Namjoon touches your scrape and it stings. A piece of gravel thumps into the kitchen sink with a metallic plunk. The water stops going red and really- you can't even feel it. You try to tell Namjoon that- but he doesn't listen.

Namjoon is biting his lower lip to keep from yelling at you. Jimin is trying to keep you standing, but you seem more intent on leaning back into Yoongi's arms to press your face into his scent gland.

His hands cradle you, holding you over your stomach, nuzzling close. Closing his eyes hard before looking up at Namjoon, eyes swimming with guilt.

"I'm sorry. I should have been quicker," his hands are shaking where they hold you. All of you are that- shaken.

But blood first, pre-heat second.

"It's not your fault." Namjoon spits, wrapping your cut firmly. Gentle with how he holds you even if he holds you so hard you cannot do anything. Cannot squirm or move or wiggle your fingers. Like this, you can do nothing at all but be held and taken care of.

The gash isn't bad at all really, it doesn't need stitches, and it runs from the middle of your thumb just down to your wrist where it peters out. Clean and not bleeding clotting. You wouldn't know that with the way that Namjoon is crouched over that the way he stiffens when he cleans the dirt from it.

"I don't think her fingers are broken, fuck- do you think Jin would let me take her to the hospital?"

"You just got home Joonie-"

"I know but-"

Instead of wiggling your fingers, you flick water in Namjoon's direction. It hits his face with an audible plop and the pack alpha flinches.

The whole pack just stares at you.

Namjoon wipes the water off of his face, slow and intentionally with every movement of his body. You sense Namjoon's composure is about to slip. Good- you really want it too.

"See I can move my fingers!" You flick Namjoon again. Smiling a little, grinning, dopy and so high on heat hormones that you think it is funny. Flicking Namjoon to show your hand isn't broken even if your knuckles are a little scraped really- you'll be fine. They don't need to act like you're dying.

You try to do it again but Jimin grabs both of your wrists, holding you still. "That is the opposite of helpful." Tae snaps.

"Don't yell at me. I'm too tiny." you say, your voice that. Small.

Namjoon whips his hands on a kitchen cloth slowly. Staring you down without saying anything.

Yoongi runs his teeth over the back of your throat, hard, enough that you feel it, and it's like it unlocks your instincts. He's not sure why he does it- why you need the release of violence before your heat begins but you do.

Jimin and Yoongi Keep you in one place as you try to lunge for Namjoon. You barely even jerk in their firm hold. strong as they are. every one of them has more than half a foot on you- you'd never stand a chance really. Jimin holds you effortlessly- without even breaking a sweat.

Namjoon grips your face in his hands, and you almost want to hiss at him. Lip lifting in a soundless snarl. His voice is a gentle hush, a tone you are intimately familiar with.

The same tone of voice that has preceded every punishment and scolding you've ever received from the pack alpha. Every time he's ever coaxed you to take his knot (icky) or an orgasm (less icky). As he drags you close and speaks to you. Soft but firm. gentle but unyielding.

"You are allowed to be needy, you are allowed to be small. You are allowed to need everything and anything and I will personally make sure that each one of those needs are fulfilled."

You aim to bite him his hand, teeth clicking together, but Tae holds your jaw. Fingers digging into your lower lip. Making your lips push out. You push at them but they hold you still.

You like it. You like feeling your alpha's strength, your mate's strength. Where they begin and you end. You want to test it want to make sure they can protect you. Want to make sure they're worthy.

For what? You can't say. you think it might have something to do with the terrible sensitivity between your thighs, the bleeding hot need slowly gripping you, a distant storm rumbling. But you're not sure.

Tae keeps your mouth open and Namjoon taps his finger against your tongue, your lips, your teeth. Does he like how sharp they are? They feel awfully sharp in your mouth. Good omega, see? You want to tell him. Strong like you. Not a pup. You don't whine and recoil the way an alpha would at being poked and prodded at. You fight one moment then go pliant the next. letting him look, letting him touch and pinch your tongue between his fingers, loling it out and making it cute. tears building at the corner of your eyes by how frustrated you feel, how much you want.

"How cute" Tae coo's and you hiss at her- or try too. Namjoon's finger pressing against your tongue stops you from doing anything but whine.

Jimin smiles. Agreeing. "Cute little omega, acting like an alpha."

Tae lets you go after she's sure you're not going to try and bite Namjoon again, You grin at him, bearing your teeth. Behind you Tae stresses, concerned at how far you're trying to push Namjoon.

"Pup-"

"No, let her hiss." Yoongi's voice rumbles behind you. You let it out and although you mean it to sound threatening, it's more a tiny kitten than a powerful jungle cat. As loud and as menacing as you can make it but still- awfully cute. Tae hides her smile behind a hand and behind you, Yoongi rolls his eyes, all fond. He sort of wishes he got that on camera.

Namjoon smiles gently. And you want to scratch it off his unnervingly pretty face. You try. But Jimin effortlessly holds your wrists.

Namjoon taps your nose and you jerk- trying to fight them but getting about two inches before both your mate and Jimin have you completely immobile.

Some part of you loves being held and controlled like this and wants to purr instead of hiss. Your mate and Minnie are so strong- they hold you so well. It makes you feel all fuzzy and floaty. Like your anger and body is a separate creatures.

"If she bites you, I'm not kissing it better."

"She's allowed" Namjoon is looking away from you and you don't like it- the pack alpha should be looking only at you. You are feeling too many things at once, so many. Angry at Namjoon and hungry for him. Annoyed by his presence but needy for his attention. "I bit her when I was in rut you know. She owes me a good nibble."

"Not gonna bite you-" you hiss while you struggle against Jimin's grasp, but he doesn't even have to fight to keep your hands from pushing at Namjoon. You want to push at him more- want to get him to lose control. "You're icky."

Namjoon laughs, and it only makes you more angry.

An omega in preheat bleeding is a creature of instinct. Your instincts can not sort through what you need and what you want. Why you're bleeding and why you're not in the nest. Confusing threat for care.

Namjoon doesn't even blink in the face of your aggression. "You're allowed to bite me and hiss and want to pick a fight- to test us- But what you are not allowed to do- not now, not ever, and certainly not in pre-heat- is jump out of a moving fucking car."

"Namjoon" Jungkook says from the doorway. Leashed anger in his voice.

The whole pack looks up at him and you break eye contact, breaking the spell on all of you- and you go from jungle cat to fluffy kitten in two seconds.

You forget Namjoon instantly at the sight of him.

Jungkook is there, Jungkook is there and he’s the only person besides your mate that doesn’t smell too much or too intense. You completely shift out of Jimin's grasp and the alpha lets you. Disregarding his anger too- as you should. He smells so yucky.

Jungkook does not smell yucky. He doesn’t smell like his unhappy rotten flowers- no- Jungkook smells so thick and happy you half expect your mouth to be stuck shut with honey when you open your lips and chirp. It sounds petulant and pupish even to your own ears, but Jungkook just smiles and bullies Jimin and Tae out of the way to get his arms around you.

Yoongi does not. But you wouldn't want him to anyway. He back hugs you, keeping your back pressed against his chest. Face tucked into your throat.

Strange. All of that was so strange. you're angry one minute then sweet the next. utterly pliant and a doll under their touch. scenting you this way and that.

You tangle your hand in Jungkook’s shirt and grab him, tug him close. Whining. The corners of his eyes crinkle. And you know all your fears of pushing this on them so suddenly are for nothing.

Jungkook bounces up and down on his heels- he smells sweet and excited. You’re so relieved when you see him that you actually start crying a little. “You saw me like literally 5 hours ago-“

“I know- but- but-”

Jungkook’s purring is loud and strong against your chest. A sound that shocks out of your own chest too. A special little omegan hello.

Yoongi’s hand settles on your back, one on Jungkook’s too. “Both of you need- we’ve got to-”

"At least wait until the blinds are shut before you start purring. Are you trying to announce to the whole world that you're-" Namjoon's worrying is cut off by Tae's hand on his arm, his shoulder? Your alphas ring you, keeping their distance only slightly. Over your head- Yoongi mouths 'leave it'.

The sound of Jungkook purring fills the air with his honey-golden scent. Makes you forget about the living room and your hand, and everything else that's wrong with the den slips away. It’s a sound you usually only hear in the nest, during the quiet of the morning when things are especially good and special.

He lets you rub your face into his chest until your nose is rubbed raw- you already feel raw, everything chafing. And you let out a happy little trill when he rubs his wrist along yours.

Behind you- one of your alpha's lets out a deep pleased growl. Someone says something that sounds like "Possessive little shit" pouty and grumpy that they didn't get to you first.

You sense that things are being said over the top of your head but you have neither the want nor brain cells to listen to them. Trying to press your face as hard as you can into Jungkook's throat. Into Yoongi’s, then back again.

Jungkook paws at your sweater, and you protest for a moment before you let him, tugg up the hem, not off, not yet. “It’s too scratchy” he nips at your throat, rubbing his wrist over your stomach at the same time. The pleasure-good-nest-Jungkook-omega of it makes your knees go a little weak.

Yoongi catches you and Namjoon jerks forward arms out. For all his snapping he is still the first person to reach to catch you. “Wait until she’s in the nest Jk here-” They puppet you- and you’re honestly more interested in pressing your face to his and Yoongi’s necks than helping them waddle walk you across the house.

Good- something nearby smells really really good. Not like Namjoon who smells too stressed, the scent of his displeasure a zing against your nose. Not like Jiminie who's all stinky, not like the touches of Taetae here. Her's is usually a scent that you love but now she smells so cloying you want to paw at your nose and get it out.

“Hobi and Jinnie are already in the nest-” Namjoon stoops to kiss Jimin's mouth, a quick peck that interrupts his words. “Koo was helping me cook and I think we've got enough food but-"

"That's perfect Mini thank you."

Jimin preens under the pack alpha's attention and you whine. On closer inspection Jimin and Jungkook and just about everyone is covered in bite marks ringing their throats. You know the shape of Jinnies mouth. The sight of them has you blinking, wide-eyed, an ache in your jaw that you don’t understand.

Pretty alpha’s you need to bite your pretty alphas- they’re just so yummy. Yummy but stinky. Maybe you can wait until after they shower and they stop smelling so gross.

Yoongi huffs, answering you even though you didn’t realize you were speaking. “You need to eat real food first,” you stay buried in his chest. Namjoon sighs.

They move you slowly through the house, stepping over curled-up heaps of blankets on the floor. Inelegant curls of fabric.

You know what they are- decoy nests. Meant to distract any potential alphas or predators from finding your real nest. A behavior that like the purring and chirping, is vestigial. You know your alphas are strong enough that they’d never dream of letting anyone into your den.

Luckily, they're not any of your usually favored nesting materials- the blanket that’s just a slightly displeasing shade of chartreuse here, the one that has too thick seems here. You don’t mind them, something about the sight of them makes the last of your anxiety dissipate.

You can only imagine Jin feeling what you feel- the anxious ever gripping anxiety of an unseen threat, not having Namjoon nearby must have done a number on him. You love him, even if you wanna bite him. You tell him that.

"I know- Just-" he grumbles. Admits, "love you too."

You won’t be confused; you know your pack omega wouldn’t want you anywhere else but in your real nest next to him. Jungkook and Yoongi steer you. Guiding you not to the nest upstairs but through the house past your and Yoongi's old bedroom. On the way past the door, namjoon checks the lock, making sure it's secure.

They take you through the house to the pack's old bedroom. What had been turned into a little extra shelf space for Tae’s collection has now been disassembled. Redesigned in Jin’s nesting fervor.

You don’t know how your alphas moved the shelves out because you thought you saw Yoongi bolt them to the studs. You have a sinking suspicion that they’ve put them in the room at the end of the hall- all of the clutter stuffed there to where it can’t aggravate the sensitive pack omega.

The nest almost takes your breath away. It's so perfect.

The floors have been laid clean; mattresses piled from wall to wall with only a small space of spare floor to step into the room. Every single pillow and blanket and what looks to be half of the pack’s wardrobe are piled in concentric circles.

It’s a good choice, to have your heat here. The walls feel so close and yet the ceiling doesn’t feel too far away, cozy and protected. The warm walls are shadowed by the lights above. The translucent curtains pool and hover like low-hanging clouds and keep the nighttime out. You're protected here on the ground floor and the alpha's won't have to go too far to get you food and pee and do whatever else they'll need to do while you're in heat.

The nest itself is so pretty that it almost brings tears to your eyes. There are pieces of you and the pack everywhere. Jin has thoughtfully lined some of your stuffed animals against the wall and Noodle's cat bed is tucked into a corner. Your big blue blanket- your favorite blanket- has been fluffed and kneaded in the center. The twin to it- Jin’s favorite- a thinner duvet that's yellow and rough and holey matches on the other side like two crescent moons.

Jungkook’s whole collection of throw pillows is scattered about- the ones with funny shapes and the velvet fur and fine silk fabrics. They build up the walls and guard the nest from the doorway. But the placement of them is a little off. Not like Jungkook hadn’t been caring where he put them, but like he’d been distracted. You can fix it later.

Blankets ring a wide center in heaps, dotted with the pack's clothing; your and Hobi’s favorite sweatshirt, Yoongi’s flannel, Tae’s delicate silk dresses (with holes bitten into them by the pack omega’s blunt little teeth). You can’t go more than a step into the room without disturbing it.

You stand in the doorway dizzy. It feels good, gets a weakness to your bones to be back here. In this room back where it all started, the first room that you were ever Jin and Namjoon’s. You remember being so shy and unsure looking across the hall and wondering what it would be like to enter as a lover. You remember wondering if you’d ever feel welcome- if you’d ever be welcome.

Now you don’t have to wonder, you feel the rightness in your bones when you look at it.

Your blood sings, your heart beats quick. Instincts screaming good here safe, pack omega pack omega pack omega.

Jinnie.

Jin looks like he’s not as pleased with how the nest has turned out; quite the opposite. If you had to choose a word to describe the pack omega you’d choose scruffy.

He looks like Noodle after a bath and a blow-dry. None of his carefully curated edges are intact. He’s underneath the windows on his knees. A bit of stubble on his chin, his cheeks and under eyes puffy. A determined look in his eyes as he sets about fluffing one of the duvets. Curling it, winding it with another to make a structurally supportive border, delicate. His hair half pushed up by the back like he’s been rolling around in the nest to make sure it's properly scented. 

Jungkook’s hand settles on the back of your neck, and Yoongi’s fingers brush your palm. Jimin and Tae watch from a distance, they know not to come any closer- after already having had their heads bit off for even daring to pass by and double-check that Jin’s okay, that he’s gotten everything he needs.

Namjoon's eyes are honey pools as he watches Jin, a soft growl building in his throat. Pretty pack omega, mine, my lovely little Jinnie. Namjoon's blood sings with the urge to protect, the need to provide and keep safe.

After substantially ordering the lot of them around and nibbling them until the hunger in his chest quieted. Jin had promptly banned them the alpha's from the nest until you had a chance to alter it.

But Jin didn’t need to worry. It’s perfect. You don’t want to change a single thing.

(Well- logically- Noodle's nest should be by the door so that he can escape when he needs to. You don’t think you should allow him to use it while the heat actually going on...but it would be nice if he wanted to cuddle in pre-heat).

For all of his fussing, Jin doesn’t immediately notice that you’re in the doorway waiting for him. Waiting for permission to enter his nest like a good pup. Teetering, swaying with the pack omega’s movements, eyes following his hands. A needy and petulant chirp building behind your lips that's hard to restrain.

Then all at once, a lump near the window moves- you’d thought it was just another pile of blankets but it’s Hobi. His hair pushed up and ruffled at the back like he’s been scented to hell and back. He looks a little chewed up, a little bitten, wearing a ring of hickeys around his throat that looks suspiciously like a collar. A big tank top that you’ve never seen him in shrouding his slender body.

He makes eye contact with you and your legs go wobbly again.

“Hyung.”

Jin’s head whips around, eyes narrowing the second he sees you. Lifting his lip in a greedy snarl that sounds suspiciously like “my pup.” and then he hisses, not at you but at the alphas behind you, lingering too close.

Jin lunges- pulling you swiftly into the nest, pulling you to his chest where his heart beats- rabbit frantic against your cheek.

You heave a sigh of relief.

“Nest thief, Pup thief, back-”

Namjoon lifts his hands, backing away. Jimin too, his non-proverbial tail tucked between his legs. Tae does her best not to let the rejection show on her face.

“Sorry Jinnie.”

“Sorry, love you, won’t come in again”

"Call us if you need anything!" They slink away down the hall as Yoongi gently lowers himself onto the edge of the nest and lets you shuffle forward, stifling his laughter. Jungkook flops down, pulling a pillow to his chest and sitting criss cross.

"You tell em babe." Jin's hiss peters off. nosing through your hairline eagerly. Sitting in his lap sideways as Jin clutches you to his chest. “Nest thief?” You parrot, a little dazedly, a little quiet as Jungkook starts to pull at your sweater. Pouting at it.

“This is too scratchy for the nest.”

Jin noses along your shoulder, big and imposing and all right there. he recoils when he tries to rub his cheek along your shoulder. The scratchy texture that assaults his senses. Agreeing with Jungkook's assessment that your sweater is too scratchy. biting and nipping at the collar before he pulls back.

"What is this?" he hisses, grabbing the sleeves of it. Yanking at the fine wool and pulling the stitches loose.

"Joonie's. I was cold."

Jin shrivels his nose. "Alpha knows nothing about nesting."

"You know nothing John Snow." Hobi parrots and Jungkook rewards his shameless meme reference with a pillow to the face and a grin. You hardly notice them roughhousing, careful as they are not to disturb the nest too much.

Your pack omega looms over you, puppetting you until you're spread out. Ignoring your weak whines to stay close. jin's hands and gaze go hungry as he noses along the side of your neck to the hollow of your throat. down. check- he needs to check and make sure that no one got to you- that the icky icky nest thief did no damage. (You have a feeling Jin's also checking to make sure that he left you un-bred.)

Your pack omega is so much stronger than you- a few bratty wiggles do nothing to stop him as he examines you, lifting each of your extremities up to nuzzle and inspect and scent. giving particular attention to your stomach. Yoongi shuffles over, laying a hand flat there.

"Good tummy?" you ask, shy and small. An omega's tummy is always particularly sensitive even outside of a heat. Your shyness now has nothing to do with your body and the state of it. Nothing to do with your weight but everything to do with the fact that Jin and Yoongi are touching the place that the alpha's will breed later. Cradling and being delicate with your hips and stomach. Soft and vulnerable. strumming his fingers over the fine hairs reverently.

You wouldn't let any of the alpha's outside touch you there, you might not even let jk touch. Only your mate and pack omega are allowed, are safe enough.

Yoongi ducks low to peck your nose. you wiggle happily at the sensory pleasure of it, hiding your face in your hands because your emotions are too much. You're too happy, the way yoongi's looking at you makes you feel too much love- your chest might burst with it.

"Best tummy" he corrects you.

Jin continues his check of you, touching everywhere he can get too. stripping off your socks and tossing them into the hallway. Fingers running over everything. Your hips your sides your stomach. You wait with baited breath for him to notice and when he gets to your hand and nuzzles into the gauze- his eyes shoot open and He snarls.

Distantly down the hall, you hear, "That wasn't us!"

Jin nuzzles into the bandage on your hand, lip lifting at the smell of blood, upset, near sick with worry as he pulls back to look at you. eyes starting to swim with tears. "Hurt- pup hurt."

You quiet Jin's tears with a nuzzle into the side of his wrist. The urge to bite down, to mark him, is almost overpowering. "Alpha made it better, alpha almost let me bite him." You're sort of giddy with it.

Jin grumbles. Cheek rubbing against your hand, aching dully just like the quiet pitter patter of your heart.

"Nest thief, icky alpha," Jin hisses.

"Icky." You agree.

"Hurt?" Jin asks, laconic and speaking through one-word phrases, but the sight of you in pain has Jin coming back to himself just a little.

"No worse than my cramps." You squirm, and Jinnie holds you closer. hands loop around your waist, hovering on your stomach in a different way. Protecting where you're sensitive with the wide splay of his palms. But there's nothing he or any of them can do.

"How's yours?"

Jin sighs and rubs his cheek along the top of your head. Flopping over and curling around you. done with his inspection of you for now. "Coming and going. Not bad."

Yoongi huffs, combing a hand through your hair then Jin's, Both of your bodies are boneless temporarily, relaxing- with no intention of moving or fluffing the nest.

Yoongi pecks your head and then Jins and then starts to get up. "I'll get the heating pad" he depresses the nest under his feet. And no- that's not right.

Yoongi is so special and soft and yours. He can't leave the nest now, not when you've just gotten here. One of the alphas can go get it, you don't want him to leave the nest. You perk up, pulling yourself onto your knees- even that level of movement makes you dizzy.

You don't know why, but the thought of Yoongi leaving the nest is terrifying. Makes you so scared you feel like crying. Adrenaline pumping until you're scrambling for him, grabbing the hem of his sweatshirt, pulling it until he stop. Swiping and grabbing at Yoongi's sweatshirt. Pulling at the hem of it.

He looks back, looks down at you, eyes a little wide. lips parted, as your eyes slowly go glassy. Filling with tears.

Behind you, Hobi stifles his laughter. Jin just looks down at you, so much fondness in his gaze that it's hard to look at without feeling like Yoongi's intruding. Yoongi is not intruding. Yoongi could never intrude. You stare up at him and whine until he sits back down.

Yoongi still has blood on the side of his face, your blood. A faint splatter of it over his jaw where you'd cupped his face. Jin purrs and pulls the beta down to his level before he licks it off his cheek.

You blush, and Jungkook cringes. "Gross hyung."

"Can't- don't-" words are so hard for you to say in this state. All of the aggression from before melted away, and now you are gentle and small. You need Yoongi. You need Yoongi right next to you or else something terrible will happen- you're sure of it. You press your face into his throat and his hands come back up to hold you. Suddenly the urge to bite is there, but you don't, just nuzzle and crowd him.

He lets you, holding you when you get a bit too aggressive in your scent marking, and threaten to make both of you topple over. eyes wide with surprise.

You hum, satisfied, a purr starting up in your chest that has the air turning sweet where it had been tense. Pressing your face into his chest, body boneless and gravity doing its work as you search his body the same way Jin examined yours.

You find it the mating mark, nosing under the fabric until Yoongi tenderly cups the back of your head and pulls his shirt up. "There- better?" You purr and rub it up against your cheek. Sprawling in the nest. Your hair gets all messy as you push and push and push your face into his mating mark.

Yoongi smells so good there. The best. Sweet sweet sweet chocolate. you nibble a little at the puckered skin and are rewarded with a noise- half moan and half sigh. yoongi's thighs splay wide giving you access. He tucks your hair behind your ear and above your head, Hobi and he share a long special look.

You pull at his waistband and Jin stops your hand. "No pup, not yet."

"But- but-" your protests fall on deaf ears. Jin is so strong, picks up your hips and lies you flat. Hands continue their checking moving south regardless of your shuddery squeeks.

He tries to get between your legs, and Jungkook stops him. Jin goes at him teeth snapping. Jungkook just grins. "Cute hyung but no- you told me not to let you do that."

You kick your feet a little, but Hobi reaches over to grab your ankle. "Why? why can't we?"

Jungkook detangles you from Yoongi, from Jin, gentle and slow so that your instincts aren't triggered. directing your face up to where the air is clearer and guiding you to breathe until your mind clears a little.

Jungkook strokes over your throat, looking down at you. "Any sexual attention at all from any of us will make your heat come quicker. For the record I'm all for it- but the rest of the pack want your heat to be gentle."

The fact that they'd had a plan that you hadn't been apart of, makes you feel warm all over. And it has nothing to do with your heat. These things are just too big for you to grasp. So vulnerable and too pupish to make your own decisions. You don't even protest at what Jungkook says or try to deny it. you don't lie and say that you can decided for yourself how you want your heat to come.

This is why you have a pack, why you're at the bottom of the hierarchy. Why would you ever even need to make decsions for yourself? They know best.

A tightness in Yoongi's chest eases, just a little. Watching you and Jin and Jungkook interact with each other. You tense up, and your cramps, are suddenly there. Fingers leaving Yoongi in favor of cradling your stomach and whimpering. curling up quick.

Jin growls and tries to pry your hand away from your stomach. but Yoongi sets a hand on your back as you curl up. "Breathe deep for me sweetheart, breathe. You're doing so well." But there is nothing any of them can do but hold you through them.

Jungkook does not hop up, or hold you, just rolls until he's by the door, sticking his head out to shout down the hall, Jimin's head pops from around the corner almost immediately followed by Tae's. Both of them look pink-cheeked and red-lipped. (Jungkook knows how they are, how the scent of omega's in pre-heat riles them up.)

"Heating pad? For pup?" His eyelids flutter, and Tae watches him as Jimin jumps up, almost slipping into his socks on the polished wood floor.

"On it." 

Tae watches Jungkook intently before he slips back into the nest.

the cramp stops and you relax, uncurling yourself. Jin's thumbs rub over your belly, and you nuzzle into him. He lets you nuzzle into his stomach too. He's so soft here- so soft and plush and cozy, it's honestly unfair. You have to concentrate really hard to speak, alternating from pushing your face into Jinnie's tummy and Yoongi's hip. You don't really know why other than that you need to. 

"Are you? Close yet?"

Jin leans low to rub his chin over the crown of your head. His body isn't tight with cramps. Not like yours is. "No, but soon."

His eyes are wide and glassy, licking his lower lip. But Jin seems to come back to himself a little in the face of you in discomfort, the idea of his littlest pup in pain. “Do you want a fresh change of clothes? Some snacks? Yoongi brought some- so helpful.”

Behind you Yoongi blushes and Jungkook pinches his cheeks, your mate tries to swat his hands away. “Yah-”

It seems you're not the only one keen for a fight, between the two of them- Hobi and Yoongi get Jungkook just like you and Jin, sprawled in the nest and purring at a nip to his throat. You and Jin pay them no mind. their rough housing.

“Do you want some water, to eat? To sleep to-

You stop him, leaning over, pushing your face into his thighs, flopping over, cutting off his rabid train of thought. Resting your head on his lap. “Just want this, just need this.” You peek up at Jin, at his stricken expression. "Please?"

Your body is so tired you don't know if you could move if you wanted to. Finally- finally you're not too cold or too hot, just perfect, just right. Just fine right here. Jin threads his hand through your hair, hard, urging you towards his stomach.

He’s so soft and vulnerable there. You need to protect his tummy- make sure no one gets close to it who isn't perfect. The scent of Jin's slick is so distant to the urgency of protect pack Omega needs to protect that you don't even notice it as he sighs and cups the back of your head.

Hobi reaches over, to touch your head too but you growl. It's a squeaky sound, not at all as threatening as you mean for it.

His hand retracts quickly- you whine, petulant. “No- sorry I’m just-”

“Possessive” Jungkook says, touching your hips, your thighs, checking your temperature there, finding the skin hot and puffy. You sprawl out parting your tights for him to touch. Yoongi smiles, trying to hide it but failing.

“Yes.”

Jinnie Is mine. You want to say, want to say- but can’t do more than whine and growl and chirp. You're all mine, none of the alphas can have you- none of them. All mine. My nest. Omega made it for me so it's mine.

Jin’s hands run through your hair after a moment, combing through it and twisting it to keep it out of the way. Until all he’s teasing at are the baby hairs on the nape of your neck. Pulling at them softly like a lifeline drawing you out of your instincts. You keep eye contact with him, lucidity growing in each of you the longer you spend in each other's presence.

Jin and Yoongi make everything feel alright, makes everything not feel scary.

When you look back up at him Jin looks more lucid, more aware of what he's doing and who he's doing it with. A crinkle between his eyebrows that will make fine lines in a year or two.

You nudge against his palm; you don't have to ask more than that to get him to tell you what he's thinking

“I kinda thought that you might want a heat without all of us- just you and Yoongi- or at least one where we could take care of you.”

Jin’s cheek is chubby where his lips pout, you love it. It looks like a crescent moon. You want to bite it, his cheek, and feel the give of your pack omega under your teeth. Yoongi answers for you.

"No, of course not- you guys are-"

You curl up, your knees nudging Yoongi's back, dragging him closer to where you and Jin are cuddled.

“I’m not going to be able to take care of you quite as well as I hoped. Your first heat won’t go like how I wanted it.” Jin’s voice sounds so sad, almost broken.

You and Yoongi immediately fold yourself close. You tangle your injured hand with Jin's gently. Yoongi leans in, pressing a kiss to Jin’s spine and the pack omega sighs at the sensitivity and soreness.

“It’s okay, you can’t control it and-” and it’s nearly better this way. You’re honestly so tired that you couldn’t even start to nest, and even if you could- you doubt that you’d be able to make a nest as lovely as this one. You say that- say it.

And Hobi fluffs up, keeping his distance after you growl at him. But he's there at the edge of the nest. Your eyes narrow.  “I told him to put up Christmas lights just in case.”

"Can I bite you?" Hobi raises an eyebrow at you. But you see the telltale way his cheeks pink up. "I need to bite Jinnie first, and then Yoongi, but after-"

A giggle shocks from your packmates but Jin just huffs at you, eyes melting away from frustration and into endearment. His scent is sweet and cloying milk.

"You mean you don't want me to leave?" Hobi asks slowly, carefully while Jin's fingers rub at your waist, under the waistband of your pants Apparently dissatisfied with them. Starting to tug them off until you're in nothing but your underwear. Jungkook takes them and tucks them into the outer layer of the nest.

"No? Why would I want that?"

Jin doesn't let you and Hobi hash it out yet, preoccupied with the idea of being marked and bitten.

He tugs you up and closer. Ushering you close to his neck and scent gland, puffy and inflamed just under his jaw. Face to face with it again you cannot make your mouth reply to Hobi's question, mouth-watering.

You nose at his throat for a second but then Jin's hands are pulling you closer and your mouth parts against his skin. You suck and suck and suck, Jinnies scent gland is so squishy beneath your teeth. The skin is sweet.

You lose yourself a little. Going needy and clingy, hand tangling with the front of his shirt. You feel his sigh, his relief at having you close. The give under your teeth that states an unfurling hunger in your chest, the kind of hunger that's starting to burn.

"My little omega," he croons, running a hand over the back of your head while you suck to your heart's content. Your heart rate slows a little. Thudding loud in your ears. A finger nudges your cheek and you growl. Jungkook just laughs at you.

By the time you pull back, you're dazed and every breath is Jinnie Jinnie Jinnie. Jin's throat has several small marks on it, little and pink. The pack omega smells so good, so soft and good. love Jinnie so much, just wanna stay next to Jinnie in the nest forever, and never wanna leave. Best nest, perfect nest for pups-

"Pups? You're pups." Jin pouts, cheeks pink, and you grip his shirt. The others are there and you'll mark them soon but you need to be done with the pack omega first. Need to mark him first before any of the alpha's so that they know he's yours, before he's theirs. Can't steal the pack omega away from you- you need him too much.

"Nest thief" Jin hisses, sitting up quick, and jostles you. Sending you out of your omegaspace because of the way you almost fall. Almost fall except for the way that Jin curls over the top of you and hisses in the direction of the doorway. And you sense a movement by the door, letting out a growl and wheeling, turning.

"I'm just dropping off some water." Namjoon says, retreating with open palms. the heating pad sits rolled up at the edge of the nest too. "Love you guys, goodnight."

"Nest thief?" You ask again. Still a little dazed. Still very out of it.

“Jin’s been calling Namjoon that. He’s angry that he stole you.” Hobi says, voice rough in the nighttime quiet. A laugh hovering on the edge of his words.

Any reply you could possibly muscle is quieted by Jin’s needy trill- the pack omega displeased that your attention is not on him, not focused on him. He pulls your sweater up and over your head to replace the scratchy sweater with a shirt. Formerly folded into the edge of the nest that smells strongly of Jungkook.

You hold your chest wearing no bra, just in your underwear, hiding from their gazes just a little. Although the pack knows your body better than you do- being nude still feels a little sensitive a little too much.

Yoongi wordlessly sets a hand on your thigh. Rubbing up and down your skin, soothing away your goosebumps with his warm palm.

You grimace at what Jin offers you.

“Jinnie- I love you, but I’m not putting on Jungkook’s used workout shirt."

Jin blinks down at what’s in his hands, lower lip wobbling. “but- but-”

Jungkook’s and Hobi’s chests are shaking with quiet laughter, and Yoongi smiles as he hunts through a nearby basket before peeling his own shirt off and tugging it over your head. "hands up" he says, and you obey him. kissing him on the way out, yoongi tugs your hair out of the collar, twisting it away from your face but not tying it up to sleep. The long fabric pools around your thighs. “There- is that better?”

Jin just looks up at Yoongi and purrs. Rubbing his face into your back. "best."

Jin tugs and you fall into a heap onto the nest. Pulled against his front. Jinnie is- Jinnie is so warm, the whole house and the ride over you’d felt so cold, and now- now you feel so warm. Jinnie’s body feels like sunshine pressed up against you.

You breathe in deep expecting everything to smell happy, but you freeze; Hobi smells sour.

You didn't realize it because he was covered, burritoed in, but as he pulls himself out from under the blanket to get a glass of water, it sends his sourness everywhere. Before anyone can stop you, you shuffle and flop over top of him. You whine, burying your face in his stomach. Keening high. Displeased.

Hobi almost spills the glass of water all over you but doesn't by virtue of Yoongi's steadying hand. “Jeeze, don’t get all teary-eyed on us.” You breathe in and out, blinking away your tears, Hobi’s hand rubs through your hair trying to soothe you. Yoongi takes the glass from him.

“Not crying cuz I’m upset, just-” You let out a frustrated noise.

Hobi’s eyes are dark with understanding. “I can get up and leave if you want I know that I’m not-“ an omega, goes unspoken, but your arms just tighten further around his waist.

You remember everything he’s ever said about his last pack- Moonbyul’s pack (you remind yourself as you have had too many times over the last few months.) How they’d never let him stay in their nests through their heats.

Unless they need to use him.

You have a lump in your throat thinking about that. a lump that feels like anger but can go nowhere but inward. You can’t imagine making him feel that way. Making him feel unwelcome.

The others aren’t allowed in the nest because your skin is too sensitive, too friable, their scents too pungent with wanting too easy to want. but Hobi’s scent is not as intense and not as irritating. Nothing about his caramel scent is yucky- just soft and subdued beyond the sourness there from nerves.

“Why don’t you smell-“ Hobi’s hands tighten on his forearms, and he closes his eyes, cringing as he waits for it. “bad like the others do? You don't smell awful like Namjoon?”

Jungkook huffs a giggle, but he's the only one. there is laughter coming fromt he hallway. Yoongi sighs, making eye contact with Hobi before he answers. Hobi bites his lip, looks like he’s about to cry, shuts his eyes shut tight tight so that he doesn’t have to watch your expression. You, the person he trusts more than any to understand this, to understand him.

“Most alpha's bodies react to an omega in heat- becoming stronger so that omega’s can find them once the heat starts and make it come quicker with their hormones. But Hobi’s body doesn’t have the same reaction anymore. Not even before you.”

Since the abuse. You read between the lines. the fact that they'd hurt him so bad, so bad that his body and his scent changed, that they'd altered him so- feels so unfair, that you can't change it- can't make it better.

You go still, looking back up at him utterly stricken by this information. Hobi holds out his arms. Thin but muscular looking. Strong even if his smile is fragile and tight.

"So Scent away pupcake- I'm not gonna make your heat come quicker."

You pull yourself over to him and rest there. Hobi's arms do not tremble as he hugs you, just briefly until Jin pulls you back to him. So that you're sitting in Jin's lap but holding onto Hobi. It's like they're playing tug of war with their favorite toy.

You like being their toy. You like being the lowest one in the hierarchy because it means you get coddled and controlled and treated like you're precious. You don't let Jin pull you back right away, looping your arms around Hobi's neck. Closing your eyes and thinking hard. Putting all your energy into imagining it.

You think of all your favorite things; Noodle and late-night drives, cuddling with Yoongi in the morning, and helping Tae with her makeup. The feel of Jimin's hand in yours. The way he's always watching, the way he's always checking. The sound of Jungkook's laugh and Joonie's kisses and when Jin asks you to nest with him.

You cuddle up in Hobi's lap and think of only happy things- so that you smell as happy as you can- just so that he knows. 

Hobi's breath is coming shaky and when you look up Yoongi's holding his face. Yoongi's thumb wipes away the wetness on his cheek and You rub your face into his throat the same way you did with Jin. Hobi smells soggy-sad-happy, like he's sad but it's healing.

It's late and everyone is tired, but certain things take precedence over sleep. You nudge his nose with yours, "Can I bite you?"

A laugh shocks out of his chest, a little relieved sounding. "What is it with you and biting?"

"You're very…" Your eyes flicker down his form, making him blush "Biteable."

Hobi tilts his throat, happy you can't feel his heartbeat, can't hear it going quick. "Go for it."

You tug at the collar of Hobi's tank top. You don't mark his throat next to Jinnie's marks. You leave your mark for the space just over his heart, small, you don't want him to feel the ache. You don't want any of this to hurt him.

Your teeth dig and hobi sighs, hand coming up to cradle your head. "You can take what you need- you can-" (Hobi tells himself that anyone alpha or not- would have the same reaction in their body at having a hickey sucked here, tells himself that the half chub in his sleep shorts isn't permission or a confession. Even if Hobi wants those things- wants this with you. His brain is all tangled, memories and wants and fears a dizzying combination that stops him from acting confidently)

When you pull back, you press your forehead to Hobi's. You know you won't be lucid for much longer. That if you go to sleep, you'll probably wake up in omegaspace and that will be it. But there are things you need to say to Hobi.

This is all still so new to him. All of this, the sex and the marking and the scenting. You haven't had sex with him enough, haven't learned him enough for this.

"I'm not going to be hurt, if you only want to help Jinnie okay? If you're not ready then I'm not ready." 

Hobi swallows hard, eyes glassy nodding. He can't say anything, can't open his mouth without crying so he doesn't. Can't do more but tangle his hand with yours and squeeze.

Jin pets through Hobi's short hair, purring deep and rumbly.

“See alpha- pup wants you- told you she would, told you she wasn't gonna want you to leave the nest” Jin croons, petting more and more as you bury your face in Hobi’s throat. You luxuriate in the feeling of having them close and heave the first easy breaths you have all day as Jin settles in close behind you.

Lying both of you down in the center of the nest. Pressing his face to your vertebra crowding you up against Hobi and promptly going to sleep.

Yoongi gets up and shuts the door and the light, saying something softly to someone in the hallway. Hobi falls asleep soon after Jin. Breath evening out and eyes fluttering closed. His hand is slackening where it's tangled with yours.

You’re a little harder to settle, you toss and turn, trying to get comfortable. Jin and Hobi quickly nod off but you can’t.

You stay like that- warm in between the two of them until another cramp hits you. You hiss, hands settling over your abdomen hard. You still- tremble through the pain, and dimly- you’re aware of Yoongi rubbing up and down your back.

“Do you need-” Your hand settles over his squeezing hard- not too hard, as you breathe heavily.

Once you stop trembling, Jungkook detangles you from Jin, the pack omegas fist tangled in your shirt to keep you close. “Come here.” he guides you to rest against his chest while Yoongi gets the heating pad set up. Clicking it onto the highest setting and putting it under your shirt. "I'm so sorry baby."

You shrug, "There's nothing you can do." Sniffling quietly, "s'not your fault."

“Do you think you can stomach anything?” You shake your head at that nausea rippling through you.

"I promise i'll eat more in the morning but my cramps- they’re too-” It feels like you’re carrying a rock in your belly, something heavy that you can’t put down, can’t do away with. Your organs tighten around that weight. A heaviness without name that comes with only pain and no satisfaction.

(Is this what reproducing is? Do you feel the weight of the lives you could carry before they come? Would this hurt less if you'd be a different sort of mother Or can the world feel how unequipped you are and how selfish you'd and is punishing you for it. You’re old enough to have a pup and yet- you feel so small, so unprepared, so childlike.)

Jungkook sets his hands on your stomach.

You open your eyes and look up at him. his dark hair that settles over his forehead like inky strands of night. Jungkook looks at you and you know that he knows. That he understands.

(Being able to have kids is more of an open wound that an advantage, you wish alphas knew that. It’s all a big question; to stem the wound or keep bleeding, to not bleed at all and count the lack of blood as payment. To tell yourself, I don’t want to be a mother anyway).

(But I wouldn’t mind having a family.) 

(you've already got one, and they're all around you)

Jungkook settles you back against his chest, and the warmth of his body pressed behind you instantly makes you feel better. Jungkook readjusts the heating pad, removing it from your front and placing it instead on your back, between your ass and his lap. The relief of it is instant. It doesn’t get rid of all the pain but heat is what you need.

You sigh against him, relaxing against his chest while your mate rubs at your hips, watching you, looking down at you. Then Jungkook’s fingers dig into your abdomen- digging in on either side of your hips and you almost keen at how good it feels.

You know he has experience, that he's learned from pt and the other personal trainers at his gym how to massage- how to get rid of aches and pains. you just didn't know heat cramps where one of the things he could help with.

The relief is sort of instant as he starts massaging up and down your stomach and sides. He keeps the pressure even and firm and it’s like he’s holding the weight between your hips.

You feel his breath against your ear, and he closes his mouth around your lobe sucking on it just a little. You're distracted by the way he holds you, holds all the pain, and tells you with his body that it's okay and you go boneless.

but Jungkook sucks his own mark into your throat, sucking at your scent gland until you go sweet and pliant.

He moves his fingers, going up and down either side of your stomach, digging close and low to your mound but it's not sexual. Not yet. Every moment of it eases away the ache.

Jungkook’s blunt omega teeth dig into the nape of your neck. His voice husky when he tells you to sleep. He’s so warm behind you.

Very very very warm.

You should bite him too, before the others have a chance to. The same way you did with Jinnie. You have to let the alpha's know that Jungkook is yours.

Before he gets any warmer.

That will have to wait until morning, Your body listens to his command. In the quiet darkness, Yoongi watches you and Jungkook, worry bleeding down his back. “Can you show me how to do that Koo? The cramp massage?"

Jungkook laughs, all fond, but lets the nighttime settle.

~-~

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Notes:

i think yoongi and his fears, touches on a little thing that all of us feel at one point or another- that we have no idea what the fuck we're doing with our lives. yoongi is a character to often rails against his own mythos- there is danger in being revered by the people you love. and i think in this moment- yoongi is worrying about living up to those expectations.

i played with the idea of making yoongi spank the m/c for her stunt with the car but honestly- i don't think he would ever willingly engage with physical punishment for her. i don't think he could physically raise a hand against her- i think his trauma would stop him big time.

this is another chapter where it felt like "bily is a story, less of a fanfiction" like this is a process and i'm bringing you all through it. it's less about getting to the end and more about enjoying the ride.

i wish i could accurately articulate the utter love and frustration in namjoon's heart when she's giving him the runaround- my boy is /stressed/ out about her in such a lovely way.

i did not originally intend for her to go so feral but...here we are.

honestly the way i wrote the part with jin nesting with the m/c was so hard to edit, i feel like it does not make a ton of sense what's happening but they're both in omega space so- it's not necessarily supposed to make sense.

the ending scenes where also hard to keep track of like- most of the time I love the way that the series shifts perspective from person to person- and it's one of the things I really think makes my writing unique- but dang even i got confused when i was editing asking myself "whose thinking and feeling this right now?" oh well- it's too late too change too much of it.

honestly when they're all in the nest- i really wanted it to feel like they where almost fucking- like- its so intimate even though no one is actually pleasuring each other it's like...sex without the sex almost.

the lines where the m/c is talking about reproducing...i'm working through some shit is all i'm saying. working through my own wants and figuring out if i even want to have kids, my cousin is really struggling right now and found out that she's infertile and it feels so like- yucky that i can have kids (probably i've never missed a period) but she can't and wants to when i can and don't want too. but also at the same time my family is falling apart at the moment so- i've got a lot of emotions and bily is how i catharsize them!

[bangytell]

A cheating way jk| m

Don't believe in fairytales, but we got our fantasies And it's me and you, no she. Doja Cat— You right

Summary: Marriage isn't always a good fortune, or perhaps its only the person you married.

Genre: Strangers to lovers, smut

Rated: mature

Pairing: Jungkook x f!reader

Word Count: 3.9k

Warnings: Non idol au! Infidelity, mentions of domestic violence, mentions of the use of alcohol, pet names, mentions of Namjoon, oral(f! receveing), unprotected sex, praise kink and I think that's all

a/n: I know some of you might have already seen this, im re-uploading, please be nice with your comments. Enjoy

The music pounding waves through your now drunk body as you dance along to the beat, and you feel a warm body approaching from behind you, too drunk to care that you sway your hips along his warm body, he chuckles into your skin and you feel a tickle. 

“Didn't know you're that fun to be around” his voice was deep and hypnotic

You didn't reply, but you looked as his curious look traveled up and down your body, the music was still so loud, and the dizziness of your thoughts made you believe that the best decision you could make is to kiss him.

You don't. You sit with your friends and try not to be wasted any longer. Your friends are laughing at some joke, and you focus your attention on the dance floor. He's not around anymore. You begin to feel that he was just some fantasy of your imagination. 

“Are you [Name] Kim?” The question comes from the man next to you. It's none other than him 

“Why would I give you that information?” he smiles wide, and your heart skips a beat 

“Well, gorgeous, you don't really have to, I know that is you” you arch an eyebrow

“How can a kid know me” his smile never leaves his mouth as he answers back

“How about I show you?” You shake your head in denial

“Look, honey, just get yourself home and forget about me”

“That's impossible” you chuckle “Even if I leave, you'll be in my mind” You show him the ring adorning your ring finger. He chuckles as you look confused 

“I'm not jealous” he leans in, and you get a soft sniff to his cologne. It's sweet and intoxicating 

As the night continues, he doesn't leave your side he tells you more about himself and he listens as you answer to his question, he looks and focus on your eyes, your friends are on the dancefloor and after another five drinks and the smell of his cologne closer and closer to your body lets him leave a hand on your thigh, you're laughing and his face is next to yours, his hot breath on your temple and you smile as you ask him: “And what's your name?” he chuckles and leads a hand to cup your face 

“Jungkook, and don't worry, you'll be saying it a lot tonight” You chuckle again, and he kisses you softly and hungrily his lips are soft, and so are his hands all over you.

The ride holding his back as he drives off on his bike to the nearest yet decent motel makes your stomach bubble up in excitement, you're married yes, but at this point there's no turning point.You arrive, he pays and leads you inside the room. He kisses you, and tries as hard as you can, to forget all your life's problems, and he notices how stiff your movements are and how difficult it is for you to live in this moment. 

“Is everything okay, doll?” You sit on the bed and cover your face with your hands

“I'm sorry, you're probably thinking I'm pathetic” he shakes his head in denial and kneels in front of you 

“Talk to me” you lock gaze with him, and he seems to have forgotten about the horniness in his body 

“I don't think this is a good idea” he nods and you talk again “You're amazing, and you make me feel wanted, desired, like a woman and not like someone's trash” 

“Why would you have such confidence in you?” You huff

“My husband, he's been unfaithful since the fourth month of our marriage, and we've been married for ten years now” you sigh, reminiscing how happy you were the first months 

“And why haven't you divorced?” You huff 

“It's a long story” his hands are on one of your thighs, caressing it as you sigh exasperated “Our families practically set our marriage from our cribs, he's been a heartthrob and I just play my part” 

“Is there any reason why you couldn't leave now? You must have some money of your own, and I know you have a career, so maybe you, you can…” you hold his hands 

“Don't feel so frustrated for me, we can forget about each other the next morning” he sighs 

“And if I don't want to?” You look at him in surprise. He cups your face and leans for a peck 

“Jungkook… I don't think this is good for you nor me” 

“Then just give me this night, give me just one chance to make you think of me” You sigh. His sweet touches and kisses make you agree as he hovers your body on the bed.

His kisses are wet and sloppy as your hands travel around his back, discharging his shirt, you take a moment to look at his wingspan and just at the sight your cunt yearns for him. He helps you take your dress from your head and notices the lack off bra, he cups your breasts with his hands and your body quivers at the cold breeze of the winter, soon his mouth has your nipple around his teeth, licking and sucking on one another making you moan his name and he hums into your skin, as a meal he enjoys. One of his hands is caressing your stomach, traveling down to discharge your panties and your hands are pulling his hair, the sound of his mouth making a wet mess all around your breasts makes you shiver. And he adores the taste of you, the smell of your perfume as he leaves a trail of kisses making his way to your pussy. 

He might be young but he knows exactly where and how to get you started, his tongue presses against your clit and loud pants leaves your mouth, soon, his licks become precise and slowly. He's taking his time eating you out, making your toes curling, and a moaning mess. Your hands are once again on his hair, swirling the strands of hair as you moan and mewl his name. 

He adores the way you say his name, the saccharine moans that leave your mouth and the way one of your hands is gripping the sheets in a attempt so stop the way your body keeps meeting his mouth, the way you close your thighs and try to swirl around him, his hands hold you in place as you shout “ ‘m cumin!” He continues the pace he has as you close your eyes, gripping the sheets stronger and letting your juices go through Jungkook's tongue. You're panting as he pulls his pants down, he gets you comfortable as his tip slides against your clit and he moans at the sloppiness of your cunt. He gets inside of you with a guttural sound from his mouth, he grips from your arms as he pounds into you, harder yet slow. 

“You take me in so well�� almost like ngh… almost like your pussy made for me” he moans your name and looks in your eyes, he enjoys the way you're not able to maintain the contact, the way you're saying his name and the way your skin sounds every time he crashes into you.

he's pounding, bullying your walls as you scream at the overstimulation, his hands are now around your neck and you know he's done this before, by the way you're feeling the lack of blood through your head, his pace fastens, his movements are less precise and he cums into you with a guttural moan. The weight of his body on you and the heavy panting makes you feel in bliss. He chuckles as he pulls away from you and the sticky feeling has him giving you a worried look. 

“Don't worry ‘bout it” you chuckle, he gives you your clothes and as you dress you feel his gaze upon you “you're going to wear me out” 

“You're so beautiful” you chuckle and pat the empty space in bed, he lays with you and cuddles as you doze off to sleep. 

In the morning the bed was empty, only a small trace of his cologne makes you remember the night before. There's a small note on the nightstand, he has pretty handwriting. 

If you still want to give me moments to remember, call me

His phone number with a small heart drawing. 

The ride home was automatic, nobody was waiting for your arrival and that made your heart clench.  

You call the number on the note, wondering if it was the right decision, you're getting yourself full of bad decisions. 

“Hey, doll” you smile 

“How did you know it was me” he chuckles 

“I've been answering every call from my work hoping that it was finally you” your heart skip a beat 

“Are you free tonight?” you bite your under lip anxiously 

“For you, I'm free now” you chuckle 

“No Jungkook, I have some meetings today, so at night maybe…” he might believe I'm pathetic

“Alright, but I'll take you to dinner before, don't worry I'll text you the address, bye doll” he hangs up and you hear your front door opening, is your husband. 

“Hey [name] I'm just looking for something don't wait for me tonight” you huff 

“Your mom called, she wanted to know if-...” he cuts you mid sentence 

“I know, she called me earlier, since you can't leave even a text” you scoff 

“Go to hell Namjoon” he smiles and grabs his coat on the door 

“Already there babe” a loud thud leaves you alone in that big house again. 

Your day is filled with the reminiscence of the memories from the amazing night he gave you. You have a smile like no other, and as the night arrives, you're back at your house. He texted the address of a nice restaurant, you hear the front door, and your husband appears at your dorm.

“going somewhere?” he grins, and you find that… odd

“not like you care” you answer bitterly, and he chuckles 

“you wouldn't like to be messing with your perfect reputation, are you?” You chuckle this time 

“stop acting like you even care about me, ‘m out” you leave, and his words are a muffled sound as you walk away, you won't allow him to walk you like that ever again. 

The restaurant is further away than what you had in mind, but everything looks perfect as you arrive, there is a host welcoming you and you realize as the host walks you to his reservation that every table is inside a room, you couldn't hear nothing more than the sounds of your heels hitting the floor. 

A slide door opens, and Jungkook has a rose in his hands as he welcomes you inside. He gives you a peck on your cheek, and you feel the heat coming through them. 

“You look beautiful, angel” you smile and sit down. The host has long been gone, and as you too chat about your day, a waitress comes in 

Jungkook orders, asks you if that's okay with you and you nod in agreement, the fact that he's so considerate about you, he cares about your opinion, and overall he just seems so good to be true. 

The night goes smoothly, you laugh and be touchy with him all the time, around his chest, his back, his hands, and he does the same with you. It is an impossible task to try and keep your hands to yourselves.  

“Is there a way I can have you tonight?” you giggle as he caresses your back, the wine in your system has you dizzy enough

“ ‘m here” he chuckles, you're sitting besides each other and yet, he pulls you to his lap, his hot breath on your neck and his hands are on your waist.

“You know what I meant gorgeous” you shake your head in denial and he kisses the gap between your neck and your shoulder, your body shivers. 

“I do know, nevertheless, ‘m not positive this is a great idea” he nods, kissing your neck and stealing a sigh from you 

“Don't think about it, do you like me?” you lock gaze with him and nod “Then just do it” you cover your face for a second, unsure of how this will impact in your future, his warm hands take yours out of your temple “ can't force you into wanting this but” his hands pull you to him, his hot breath now on your breasts as he leans for a kiss on your skin “I think that you shouldn't think about good or bad, but what actually makes you feel something” you nod and pull him into a needy kiss, his lips are always soft and his breath smells to wine, his cologne is intoxicating every reasonable thought in your brain. 

After that night, many more had come, for a week you've been seeing him in motels and the restaurant, he texts you how much he misses you during the day, and he fucks you dumb at night just so you won't miss him that much the next morning–which you actually do–Two long weeks now and for this one night you can't see him, your husband hosts a party at you house and you have to attend.

You wear a beautiful champagne dress with your hair up and every guest gives you compliments as you walk through the room. Your husband has you from the waist as you try to smile to the guests he's going on and on about how gorgeous you are, and how he feels he won the lottery–all lies of course– the night goes smoothly, at midnight almost everyone is out, your husband is holding hands with a pretty young woman, he's too drunk to even care about being watched, you say goodbye to your guests as you see them walk off, to your bed. You follow them, the girl giggles at some stupid joke he just made, you hear the door opening and you rush yourself to not let them use the bed you're sleeping in tonight. 

“Namjoon, you better not be planning on fucking her on my bed” he scoffs

“It's also my bed, so I do what I'm pleased” you sigh, grabbing the girl from her arm and pulling her beside you 

“Leave, both of you” she looks scared and you try to look calm to her, she nods and walks away as your husband stands and push you “You didn't just do that to me” 

“You always ruin my fun” you scoff

“Namjoon, just take the guests room, and get away from me” 

“I thought that by giving you someone to fuck you'll be more accessible” your breath stucks on your throat, you look at him perplexed at his words

“What do you mean?” he looks at you 

“You actually believed that a young handsome man would wanna fuck you for free?” he spits and you shake your head in denial 

he wouldn't, would he?

“You're too old for that” he chuckles and your blood boils in anger. 

“Leave” he scoffs “you can't hear me? leave!” he stands  and walks towards you

“you'll regret this” he walks past you and leaves your house.

you cry your eyes out all night until the sun travels to your eyes making you wake up, your phone is buzzing, the name of your mother on the screen and after a long sigh you answer.

“can you explain to me why Namjoon’s mother just called me all hysterical?”

“well mother hello to you too, good morning” you huff

“This is a serious matter [name] they’ve been our friends since high school”

“So, you're telling me that she’ll stop being your friend just because I don't wanna continue being married to his stupid son?” You scoff

“no! is not that, but… we have a business they are our biggest investor, we could…”

“if this is ‘bout money, I have money” she sighs, and your doorbell announces a guest “gotta go mom”

when you open the door, you wouldn't expect it to be Jungkook, messy hair and heavy breaths, and that desperate look on his eyes… It is also filled with guilt 

“Am I welcome in?” You lift an eyebrow in response 

“Why should I let you in?” You scoff, and his soft features soften at your harsh tone 

“listen, I know that idiot made me look…”  

“just as an idiot, such as him” he nods at your interruption 

“ ‘m aware, but please listen and understand me” 

“I shouldn't” he nods in response and gazes at you with his big doe eyes

“but please…” you sigh and let him in. You close the door behind him, and as soon as your hands are free, he holds them. “he did offered me money, we had a deal… and ‘m a stupid college student with two part time jobs he sweetened his deal” you don't talk, you only gaze upon him in disbelief “he told me to get you to bed and then he'll give me the money” 

“how much?” he shake his head in deny 

“I didn't got a penny from him” you look surprise 

“but you…” 

“I wanted you to feel the same way I felt by meeting you, you changed me, changed my view of the world, my life wouldn't be the same without you” his words sound sincere and his desperate look makes you believe in him

“he said…” your voice gets muffled by his lips, he holds and cups your face and waist closer to him

“Angel… please believe me” he kisses you once more, gently and caressing your blushed cheek 

“I dunno Jungkook, I'm older than you and…” he scoffs

“You're only like eight years older than me and I really don’ care ‘bout that” you chuckle 

“ ‘m only twenty eight Koo” he chuckles

“see? even better, and yes, keep calling me that” you chuckle as you give in to his embrace 

“I was thinking maybe calling you… love” he hugs you closer, the strands of hair touches your face and his hot breath lights something within you 

“You believe me?” you nod, even if Namjoon has told you something he's always looking for a way to hurt you, Jungkook kisses you once more and you feel like melted ice cream into his arms, your hands try to grip from his shoulders as the kiss deepens his hands wander around your back till one of his arms helps you from the knee for him to carry you to the bedroom–by your directions– You're quite unsure of the moment, you've only decided to believe in him, this is still being in an affair, he's still that young man and anxiety kicks in. his lips and hands undressed you as he kissed every inch of skin he found. 

“Is everything okay doll?” you nod and he stops his movements “you don't seem good” you sigh 

“I don’ wanna think ‘bout that now” you kiss him and pull his shirt and notice a playful grin on his lips, he’s so husky and big for a man his age, you caress his soft and warm body as the rest of the clothes that remain on each of you leaves your body. 

You don’t care, it has only been two or three weeks. You know your feelings are true and even if he doesn’t feel it in the same intensity you can enjoy it while it lasts.

Soon his mouth found the way to your dripping cunt he licks and sucks in the way he knows you'll see stars sooner than later. your hands grip to the sheets while saccharine moans escape your breath as his tongue rides you along your orgasm. He licks off the rest of the juices that left your pussy and he hums in content at the sight of it, you're drunk of his features, of his husky body embracing you closer to slide his cock along your folds, with a pant and a moan from him as he slides inside your walls his thrust are slow and his gaze is

fixated on you, the way you are hugging him closer and your hot breath is on his ear as his movements become faster and harder. 

“You feel so good doll…” he moans as your nails grip his back youre leaving mark for sure and he doesnt care at this point, he loves how desperate you sound as he fuck you dumb. his hands are between your ears and the silver chain moves along him, he’s so dreamy you wanna make sure you're awake to be feeling this way, to be so filled with him. 

Jungkook pulls away from your body but his pace doesn't change, now his thumb caresses the nub of nerves to pull you into another orgasm, only the sound of your skin crashing each other's body fills the room. He praises at your moans, at the way you call his name in a desperate mewl. You need him deeper if that's even possible. You need him to fill you up and as he continues you soon reach another orgasm as he, with a guttural moan fills your cunt with his cum. You're dripping while he enjoys seeing the way your hole clenches in search of his cock once more, as if its never enough, cause its not. He gets up to dress again, you cover yourself with your favorite silk robe as the door opens and your husband gasps in surprise.

“You… whore…” he attempts to reach you, but Jungkook quickly steps up in front of you, he’s only in pants and you notice the way he’s almost bursting in anger.

“Don’t call her that” he’s voice is harsh and almost too deep

“And who do you think you are kid?” he tries to push him, but Jungkook doesn’t move 

“C’mon Namjoon, don’ do this” he gasps and step away

“You fucked in my bed and you have the audacity to ask me not to do things” you scoff

“You've done it too, many, many times, and I just got tired of your cheating ass” he huffs

“I’ll ruin you” you scoff and step up from behind Jungkook “And your family too” you scoff at his intent to try to intimidate you

“Leave my house” you say in response, he gasps and tries to grab your arm “Aint saying things twice Namjoon”

“You'll never see the end of this” you huff as he turns and close the door while he leaves

He can’t scare you anymore, you made sure to have things your way, to have most things under your name and his attempts of threat would go unnoticed. Jungkook hugs you when he notices the way your body trembles, he kisses your forehead as he sits on the bed with you on his lap.

You sigh, feeling relief and warmth within you from the man holding you dearly. He hums in your ear as you calm down, you know you want to be with him, for real and as long as he lets you.

“Jungkook?” he gaze you and nods 

“Yes princess?” you sigh fidgeting your fingers

“Can we… date?” he huffs

“No, I'm supposed to ask you that!” he holds you by your waist, closer to his body “Date me [name]” you nod and giggle at his question 

“You're not… unsure, given how everything went between us?” he shakes his head in deny

“No princess, I wanna be with you, doesn't matter how things were” your heart beats with joy “Sometimes you gotta cheat your way through”

masterlist

©️bangytell please do not copy or steal my work, any translation can’t be done this is the only way to read it.

[animasola86]

SMUT DRABBLES*: Tension Relief

A/N: The longest *drabble yet, but still short enough. Just a little smut scene I had to get out of my head. Like always, you can imagine any character here, it's just a man and a woman, no descriptions whatsoever (pics are just to set the mood). Today we'll have a mixture of semi-public and free use, a handjob, fingering and unprotected sex in a public restroom. This works wherever shopping in crowded areas is a thing.

WARNING: NSFW! Explicit sexual content! // WORDS: 1.6k // AO3

He's tense. She can tell by how hard he squeezes her hand as they walk through the crowds around them. Chatter, laughter, crying children, screaming parents alongside different music blasting from different directions, merging into something you can only describe as noise, a typical soundscape on a busy day like this. Maybe shopping has not been the best idea she's had this morning. He's still agreed to come with her.

Under one condition. “When I need you, I'll take you,” he's said with a dark glint in his eyes, and she's nodded, with her stomach twisting in anticipation, that feeling of fear of humiliation, and suspense and excitement of the unknown. He's always rather unpredictable, even in their own home.

And she can't even imagine what he's capable of in public if given the chance to do anything to her. But luckily for her, he's willing to demonstrate.

It's a tug to her wrist, a demanding gesture, as he drags her through the crowds, past overwhelmed parents trying to calm their tense children, past a couple of elderly women looking around in confusion in search of their next destination. He knows exactly where to go, doesn't even look around while she steals nervous glances back over her shoulder as he heads straight for the women's restroom.

The door closes behind her, and he's on her in no time, hands cupping her face, eager lips closing around hers, his warm tongue forcing between them, and she can only grab his wrists for support as he pushes her backwards into an open stall. Her back hits the side wall with a thud at the same time as he slams the door shut with his shoe, causing her to gasp, but he only kisses her harder, one hand moving down to her throat, while the other moves down between them.

There's the clink of his belt, the plop of the button, scratch of the zipper, shifting of fabric, before he grabs her hand and puts it around his hard cock. No wonder he's been so tense. He's swollen, veins bulging against her palm, precum leaking from his tip. She pumps him slowly, and he growls into her mouth, squeezing her throat, urging her on. Her other hand finds his girth, and she strokes him in twisting motions, moving his hot skin over his hardened core, up and down, fist around his tip, fingers massaging his tight balls.

His hand slips under her dress, hot and heavy and urgent, finds the hem of her panties, pushes it aside, his fingers swiping through her folds. She's not nearly as ready as he is, but he doesn't care. Gives her clit a few pinches, rubs through her slit until he's content with the slick gathering between her thighs. She's breathing hard against his lips as he leans back a little, forehead pressed to hers, eyes dark, pupils dilated in hunger.

She squeaks quietly when he pushes a finger into her heat, deep and rough, working his way into her, then adds another, stretches her more. She's grateful for the preparation, no matter how little it is. There's the unmistakable noise of wetness squelching between fingers, and she shivers, her legs trembling.

Up until now she's been too preoccupied with stroking his cock and kissing him, pinned to the wall, save against his body, but then the door to the restroom opens, and a couple of chatting women enters, quickly moving into the stalls left and right of them.

While she freezes in her movements, eyes wide before they move towards the little gap between the door and wall of the stall they're in, hoping he's at least locked it, he keeps fingering her, almost as if he wants those other people to hear how wet she is, how wet he makes her. The hand on her throat pushes up to lift her chin, and she looks at him, holding her breath, while he smirks at her, eyes darker than usual.

He coaxes a little gasp out of her when he dips his fingers as deep as his knuckles allow, making her thighs twitch as he curls them inside her, scraping over that sensitive spot. She presses her lips into a thin line, panting through her nose. The women beside them flush at almost the same time, and he uses the noise (and she's thankful he does) to let go of her, then grab her hips instead and whirl her around until she has to brace herself on the toilet seat, bent forwards, while he flips the skirt of her dress up and pushes her panties down her legs.

Meaningless chatter fills the small room as the women wash their hands, and as they do, he steps closer and guides his hard cock towards her entrance. She bites her lip, forcing herself to remain quiet, but when he pushes in with one swift roll of his hips, a croaking squeak escapes her, and to her utter horror, the women pause mid-conversation. He's quick to move and leans over her to put his fingers between her lips to silence her, his palm cupping her chin to hold her in place.

She tastes herself as he pushes his rough fingertips onto her tongue while simultaneously pushing his length deeper into her tight warmth. Her body shudders under the stimulation, her arms shaking badly beneath her, fingers curling around the lid of the seat. She barely notices the women finally leaving, but once the door falls shut behind them, he really starts to move – and that, she notices.

The hand on her mouth pulls her back against him, spine arched as he presses her shoulder into his chest, fingers slipping deeper, teasing at the back of her throat, while his other hand is flat on her stomach, holding her against him, as he snaps his hips into her with reckless abandon. No easing into it, no gentle rolls, just rapid pounding, needy rutting, impaling her, filling her, using her.

She grabs his wrist, trying to hold onto him as her legs become weaker and weaker, his relentless assault quickly overwhelming her as pleasure mixes with pain and swirls inside her head like a strange kind of vertigo. In and out he goes, body slamming into hers, strong thighs bracing behind her, her hands clawing at him desperately. She moans against his fingers, and he pushes them deeper until she has to gag around them, spit filling her mouth, body convulsing uncontrollably, cunt clenching around his thick cock, and he groans in her ear, folding them over until she has to brace herself on the toilet seat again.

He lets go of her mouth, strands of saliva trailing from her lips to his fingers before they snap when he puts his hands on her hips, digits digging into soft flesh, and keeps rutting into her like a feral dog. Her arms give way, and she sinks lower, leaning on her forearms on the lid, teeth gritted before she bites down onto her wrist to keep her noises down. Knees shaking, legs spread as wide as her panties around her ankles allow, as he slams into her over and over again.

She's succumbing to the sensations, but she still hears the quiet noise of other people entering the restroom. Somehow she couldn't care less, and he doesn't seem to either as he keeps pounding into her, skin slapping against skin, her wetness squelching out of her with every deep plunge. Her muffled moans are quiet but there, as are his low little grunts.

The door of a stall to their right is being closed, lid opened with a thud, and it's that moment as he pulls her hips to him to sink in as far as possible, burying himself balls deep inside her before he comes with a suppressed little groan, arms wrapping around her waist as he holds onto her. She can feel him twitching and throbbing inside her, her own muscles contracting, squeezing him, milking him of every drop as he paints her insides with his hot seed.

She buries her face in her arms, grateful he's holding her up as her legs give way. Her chest aches, stomach still tense, squeezed by his tight grip. Head spinning, barely registering anything but him behind her, inside her, filling her up with every twitch of his balls. A flush next to them, footsteps, water running. She doesn't care.

He holds her for a few more moments, panting into her ear as he leans over her, his hot breath fanning over her cheek as she turns her head slightly. She feels him relaxing against her, and eventually he leans back, hands holding her waist as he pulls out of her clenching cunt. Something warm and sticky drips down between her legs, and his hands leave her when he bends down and pulls her panties back up.

Helping her upright again, he turns her around, cups her flushed cheek and smiles down at her. She looks at him out of hooded eyes, still feeling his rapid thrusts shuddering through her body like an echo. With every clench of her muscles, more of his cum seeps out of her and into her already soaked underwear. While she tries to get her bearings, he fixes her dress, puts his spent cock back into his pants, and leans down to kiss her softly, wiping at the spit still caked to her chin.

And as if nothing happened, he grabs her hand, unlocks the door and leaves the restroom with her, sinking back into the anonymous crowd, into the soundscape of a busy day, his hand loose around hers, relaxed and tension-free, while her knees are shaking and the dampness between her thighs threatens to spill past the hem of her panties and down her leg.

MASTERLIST // AO3 // ORIGINAL WORKS

MORE SMUT DRABBLES:

A steamy shower

Toy

Car Inspection

Sleepy

[verareids]

nights like these - spencer reid x gn!reader

spencer gets back from a rough case and reader comforts him. tags/cws: hurt/comfort, use of 'y/n', gn!reader, fluffy angst, mention of case involving kids but no details wc: 1008 a/n: Definitely not my favourite fic I've ever written and I haven't written anything in a while but it is my first Spencer fic so yay! Also, I was picturing late season 3/ season 4 Reid but it doesn't really matter. also posted on ao3

When the jet lands in Quantico at 12:47am Spencer is exhausted. After a truly grueling case he couldn’t even bring himself to read on the flight home. He’d just sat staring out the window. Kids. It’s always the cases involving kids that will fuck you up the most. JJ and Morgan have both tried their hand at comforting him and received a concerning lack of response. The rest of the team had been able to get some rest. Spencer hadn’t been so lucky. Every time he’d close his eyes he’d see their faces, hear their screams. Morgan stands up on the other side of the booth and the sudden motion pulls Spencer out of deep thought. He grabs his bag and prepares to get up when Emily shuffles past him, squeezing his shoulder on the way. The team clambers out of the jet and ends up in the bullpen, getting their things in order before they’re able to go home. Spencer walks out though the doors, heading for the elevator when the sound of JJ’s voice brings him to a halt.

“Reid…” JJ steps in front of him. “You heading home?” Spencer stops and stares at her incredulously.

“Yeah?” His tone showing only a hint of irritation. JJ looks back up at him, choosing to brush past his attitude.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Her concerned stare feels as though it’s piercing right through him and suddenly he can’t quite meet her eyes.

“I’m sure. I’ll see you tomorrow, JJ.” He walks past her towards the elevator, pressing the button when her voice stops him in his tracks again.

“Spencer, just…” JJ’s voice trails off as he turns to look back at her, she tilts her head sympathetically. “I know you don’t want to talk right now but… try to talk to (y/n) at least, don’t bottle it all up.” He forms a tight-lipped smile and nods.

“I will, thanks.” He replies slightly dismissively and turns to step into the elevator as the doors open and shut behind him. 

Spencer walks through the parking lot faster than usual, wanting nothing more than to just get home. Maybe he’d find you waiting for him there, sitting on the couch with a book, or maybe watching a movie. He’d sit down next to you and let you run your fingers through his hair, scratch his scalp, kiss his face, make all of the horrible images fade away. However, when he does get home, there is only silence. The lights are off, save for one lamp you had left on so that it wouldn’t be too dark for him. Spencer hangs his bag on a hook and removes his converse, placing them neatly by the front door. He tries to keep the sound of his footsteps light as he moves to turn off the lamp. 

Once he finally enters the bedroom he finds you there, sleeping ever so peacefully. He lets out a long, shaky sigh, looking over at the digital alarm on the bedside table, 1:40am, of course you’re not still awake. Quiet as he can, he removes his work clothes and gets ready for bed. When he lays down beside you he rolls onto his side to look at your face. All of the emotions he’s worked so hard to hold back over the last few days come flooding back with stinging eyes and a lump in his throat that he can’t force away. He studies your face, your quiet, relaxed form and decides he shouldn’t wake you. You have work in the morning – you both do – and it wouldn’t be wise to disturb your sleep to burden you with his work problems, although he knew it to be much deeper than that. Spencer exhales a shaky breath and resigns to closing his eyes and willing himself to sleep. He’s moments away from slipping into unconsciousness when a soft hand delicately brushes the side of his face.

“Spence?” He allows his eyes to flutter open at the sound of your voice and meets your drowsy, half shut eyes – his breath catching in his throat at the sight. When your lips stretch into an adoring smile he notices the stinging feeling in his eyes come back full force. “When did you get back?” You ask while your thumb runs a gentle line under his bottom lip causing him to bite it softly.

“Only five minutes ago.” Spencer replies with a shakiness he doesn’t bother to hope you won’t notice. Nothing ever gets past you. As expected, he watches as a subtle frown takes over your features.

“Bad?” You ask. A simple question, yet his eyes still well up when he nods in response. You don’t ask if he wants to talk about it, you know he doesn’t. “What do you need?’ Your hand moves again, this time to brush back a strand of hair that had fallen over his sullen face.

“You.” The way his voice cracks breaks your heart. You pull him into your chest and he rests his head there. When you run your fingers through his hair you feel his strong hands clutching the back of your shirt, pressing your body against his as close as possible. Tears stain your clothing as he breathes shakily against you.

This is the hardest part of Spencer’s job. Over the years he has developed an incredible ability to compartmentalize. He is generally pretty skilled at separating work from personal life. With a job like his you can’t afford to bring it home with you, but even with that mindset, there’s no way to stop it from getting to you occasionally. Nights like these are inevitable. You continue to thread your fingers through his curls as you feel him getting heavier against you as he slowly drifts to sleep. Staring straight up at the ceiling you can only hope that your presence will help keep the nightmares at bay. You whisper comforting words into his ear while you lay silently praying that tomorrow will be kinder to him.

[mxstellatayte]

pretty please: chapter two.

pretty please masterlist.

chapter two warnings: covid happens :(, avoiding big emotional conversations, phone sex (not graphic,) i definitely deleted any and all covid social distancing rules when i was writing this but it'S FOR THE PLOT, oral sex (f receiving, not graphic,) LEWIS IS SUGAR DADDY!!!!!!!! (but there's also feelings but we don't want to admit that yet hehehehehehe)

chapter two word count: 3.7k

taglist (crossed out means i could not tag you/no blog was found): @pear-1206 @vivi-81 @irishmanwhore @lucycowr @benstormy

@anat33-blog1 @Xoscar03 @tremendousstarlighttragedy @nenamalenaa @champagneproblems17

@marknolee @toby33b @theendofthematerialgworl @soloqualcosa @sassyinchident808

join my taglist here!

take my hand while we dance on the edge of a knife

tuesday, 3 december, 2019

your phone chimes in the formula 1 radio tone, a custom ringtone you'd set just for lewis. glancing away from your computer screen, you see a simple text.

Hey.

what should you say? "hey yourself?" no, too sassy. "hey, thanks for the mind-blowing sex a few days ago. i think i'm into you, do you wanna go out?" way too forward. "hey!" too excited.

you settle on a simple "hey." in response.

for good measure, you add on a second text.

Thanks for the flight yesterday :)

his response? a simple "Yeah of course!"

"alright. so i'm going to have to be the one to bring it up. gotcha."

so this was the dance that you'd be doing. you'd just move on from the most life-changing sex you've ever had with four texts. you'd take a step forward, try to ask about what this would mean for your professional relationship, if anything, and he'd have one-sentence answers before moving on to a different topic.

that's fine.

it totally didn't make you insane.

definitely not.

instead of thinking about your client-slash-friend-slash-maybe-fuck-buddy over your winter holidays, you opt for drowning yourself in advance work, opting to make your contributions to the february 2020 issue the best the world has ever seen. your articles for the january issue are long submitted, but now that you've submitted everything for finalization for the next two months, you have a staycation at home with your cats, crochet, shitty reality tv, and a lot of alcohol filling up your schedule for the next two weeks (and a short visit to your parents up in leeds for christmas, but that's naught but a short interruption to your routine,) and you don't intend on letting work interrupt a single moment of the next two weeks.

the key word in that sentence being intend.

although, is it really considered work if it's just texting back and forth with someone who's a client-slash-friend-slash-maybe-fuck-buddy and not exactly a coworker?

"girl, i swear down on my nan's grave," amelia begins, and you grin, already knowing you're about to get a true amelia lorenz lecture, "if you don't make a move on him before new year's, i will, and i don't think he even knows my name!" she continues by weaving an intricate web of every single sign she's seen that points to the mutual attraction between yourself and the driver, and you're not sure when the right time is to tell her that you've already had sex with him. luckily, you find an opportunity when she stands from your couch to refill her glass of whiskey and pauses her monologue.

"is now a good time to tell you that we shagged after abu dhabi?"

amelia's head whips around so fast you're surprised it doesn't snap off of her neck. "you what?" you grin sheepishly, any and all confidence you've ever had in your entire life having evaporated in a microsecond. when she sits down opposite you on the couch, her left leg tucked into her crotch and her right hanging off the side, she has to set her glass on your coffee table so that she doesn't splash the whiskey everywhere. you both know what's coming purely based off of her body language. she takes a deep breath, then presses her hands together in a prayer-like stace and rests the nook of her nose in her fingertips. "let me get this straight." she pauses. "you." her right hand points directly at you as she says your full name. "shagged the lewis hamilton. and you didn't tell me immediately?"

"why do you think i wasn't on the flight back?" amelia's eyes widen in realization, and a grin spreads across her face.

"he flew you back on his jet?" you nod, taking another sip of your drink, and amelia squeals with delight. "i need every single detail. start talking."

friday, 13 march, 2020

your phone vibrates on your desk, and you glance over at it, unlocking it when you see the f1 logo on the notification. your heart sinks when you see what the notification reads, though.

"formula 1, fia and agpc announce cancellation of the 2020 australian grand prix"

"shit," you mutter, switching your phone off and resting your head in your hands. it won't be long before the lockdown reaches london, you know that, but it's difficult knowing that lewis was looking forward to being in the car again, especially with some of the new regulations that he hoped would lead to closer racing.

you send him a text before you go to sleep- it's almost 3 am.

Sorry to hear about the race. I know you were looking forward to driving.

by the time you've fallen asleep, though, lewis has seen your text and he gnaws at his lower lip, his thumbs hesitating over the keyboard of his phone's screen. yeah, he was looking forward to driving, but as the pandemic numbers increased, his anxiety about the race weekend did, too.

Thanks. I'm glad they called it off, though. The numbers were getting too high too fast.

months pass. your interviews with various drivers at the monaco and british grands prix are moved to video calls. the world gets thrown into lockdown, eases out of it, and then gets thrown into lockdown once more. dolphins are spotted in the canals of venice. george floyd's murder sparks a revolution that reaches all corners of the globe.

you don't go a day without texting, calling, or video calling with lewis.

it's sickening, really, how much his smile is keeping you sane. well, if you're being honest, it's a combination of his smile, your medication, and going on a lot of walks around your neighbourhood. leytonstone is a lovely part of london, yes, but there's only so many different routes you can take around the neighbourhood before you start itching to jump on a train and go anywhere.

in early june, you get the email. you'll be traveling to silverstone for a set of interviews with various drivers for the 70th anniversary race. it's the fifth of seventeen races on the updated calendar, and the email states that you may be sent to the abu dhabi grand prix, as well.

wednesday, 29 july, 2020.

you're practically vibrating with excitement as you board the first of four trains that will take you to your hotel. you're leaving a week before you're due in silverstone, though, because why wouldn't you take advantage of the double header race? you've never been to a race purely as a spectator and your giddiness makes you laugh. how going to a race has given you the butterflies in your stomach that you haven't felt since you were a teenager, you'll never know. sure, with the fia's no-spectator rule, you aren't really sure how people are planning on watching the race, but you're sure you'll learn as the weekend progresses. either way, you're one of many fans taking the train up to silverstone despite the rules stating that no fans could enter the paddock or the grandstands, many hopeful that simply being in the same general area might get them a chance of seeing any of the drivers in person. a few of the racing fans on the train even recognize you, one timidly holding the july 2019 edition of vogue.

the edition where your first interview with lewis was published.

"could you sign it?"

your jaw opens and closes beneath your mask a few times before you're able to regain your composure, accepting the magazine and sharpie from her with a smile.

"what's your name, darling? here, sit with me." she does, sitting across the aisle from you and nervously tucking a curl of ginger-brown hair behind her ear.

"kathleen. but you can call me kat," she adds, and you smile as you write a small note on the inside cover, adding your signature afterwards. "are you interviewing lewis hamilton this weekend?"

"i don't have any interviews this weekend. just next weekend." you look more intently at kat's outfit, and you smile below your mask. she's wearing a mercedes hoodie and baggy jeans, and you notice that her outfit reminds you of someone. "i like your outfit. it reminds me of some of lewis' outfits, actually." kat beams beneath her mask, her eyes scrunching up into happy crescents.

"thank you! he's kinda the inspiration behind my outfits for the weekend. i'm a huge fan of him, have been for years. i'll be honest, i didn't read much about fashion until you interviewed him, but i really liked your article and looked up some of your others. the one you wrote critiquing paparazzi for stalking celebrities was incredible! you wrote it so freely. i loved it." kat catches herself, noticing her rambling, folding her hands in her lap nervously. "sorry. i talk when i'm nervous."

"you have nothing to be nervous about. i'm just another human being." you hesitate a moment, leaning over to her as you pass the magazine and sharpie marker back. "can i tell you a secret?" she nods. "i was terrified the first time i interviewed lewis." kat's eyes grow wide, and you nod. "i was so nervous. i almost got sick a couple of times, actually."

"really?"

"mhm. i'm surprised i didn't."

"i definitely would."

"i doubt that. lewis is as nice- if not nicer- than he seems. after the first five minutes of talking to him, i knew i had nothing to worry about."

the two of you spend the remaining time on the trains talking together, and she animatedly drags her father towards you and you shake his hand, introducing yourself.

"pleasure to meet you. my name's dan. thank you for being a role model for my little girl." your heart swells with pride at the praise, and you nod.

"you're raising a very fine young woman, dan. she's got a bright future ahead of her." dan nods and thanks you, grinning behind his mask. you know, from what kat's told you, that dan has been a fan of formula 1 since the michael schumacher days and that he's been to three grands prix in his life- silverstone 2003, silverstone 2004, and germany 2008. this'll be his fourth. you also know that the white and papaya t-shirt he's wearing is from the most recent race he's attended. "do you happen to have instagram, dan?"

"i do, why?" his eyes narrow slightly, and you can understand why your question seems a little strange.

"i'm writing a piece about fan presence at recent grands prix, since there's been the 'no fans allowed inside' order from the fia, and would love to interview you and kat before and after the weekend," you lie. "i'd be willing to keep you both anonymous, if you'd like. if i can message you on instagram, it wouldn't be as much of a hassle as writing emails to communicate."

"i'd prefer we remain anonymous, but i'm sure she'd love to be interviewed."

you can't tie me down, but you can tie me up

thursday, 30 july, 2020.

the next morning, you call lewis, the hotel's breakfast menu next to you on your bed and your notepad perched on your lap, your pre-weekend "interview" with dan and kat in just over 90 minutes. lewis picks up the call on the third ring.

"hey!" you have to bite your lip to keep yourself from smiling too much, a rush of dopamine flooding your brain at the sound of his voice. "can i call you back in half an hour? i've got media stuff to do in about five minutes."

"i'll be fast. can you get two paddock passes made for sunday under the names kathleen and dan gallagher?"

"they'll have to be media passes, but yeah, why?"

"you'll see. i'll text you the names so you have them. see you in a few days!"

after texting bono a quick message regarding your own pass and ensuring that he would keep it completely and entirely a secret from lewis, you flop backwards onto your bed, staring at the ceiling for a moment. "what the hell have i gotten myself into?"

since the pandemic began, your relationship with lewis has been... well... less than professional.

your daily phone calls and texts with him have contained topics that still make shivers run up your spine and a flush of heat fill your cheeks and neck when you think about them. there have been many nights where you've been on a call with lewis and you're both breathing heavily, clothes messily strewn across your respective beds in a rush to lay back against your pillows and touch yourself to completion, obeying each other's commands and wishes.

there have also been many nights where you're tucked into your beds, roscoe fast asleep next to lewis and your own furry companions, pipsqueak and garfburger, the latter of which amelia named, curled into a ball of rare calmness next to you. the two of you ultimately fall asleep on the call, the idea of having someone with you, even if not physically, helping soothe your anxiety.

both types of calls are incredibly intimate and beautiful, each in their own way.

four days later, you're meeting up with bono outside the paddock to get your own pass and messaging back and forth with dan, attempting to figure out where you can meet him near the paddock entrance. trying to explain to him why you need to meet up today when your scheduled interview time is tomorrow without giving too many details proves to be a difficult task but you're thankfully able to manage. five minutes after bono appears, three media passes in hand, you see dan and kat round the corner. you wave him down, a smile on your face, and kat immediately comes running over to you. today, she sports a pair of baggy jeans, a hamilton jersey over what you assume is the same mercedes hoodie she was wearing on the train, and an incredibly well-loved pair of black platform converse.

"good morning to you both," you say, a bright grin on your face beneath your mask. from the way kat's eyes scrunch up behind glasses you can tell her own smile outshines your own.

"good morning! dad said you had some mid-weekend questions for us?"

"well..." your eyes flick back and forth between dan and kat, and you can see the gears turning in dan's head, but kat remains oblivious. "the mid-weekend questions were a bit of a lie, but i think- i hope- that what i have in my jacket pocket is enough for you to forgive me." with that, you pull the two black and purple media passes out of your jacket, check which one has kat's name on it and which has dan's, and hand them to their respective owners. "kathleen and dan gallagher, welcome to the formula 1 silverstone paddock."

"are you serious?" dan says in disbelief, and when you nod, kat squeaks in delight and throws herself at you, wrapping her arms around you in a vice grip.

"thank you thank you, thank you!"

"you're very welcome. are you ready to go see some cool cars?"

"is that a joke? of course!" kat looks at her father, hoping for some small nod of approval, and, when he does, you think the girl still glued to your torso might just combust from excitement. you can tell that dan's barely containing his own joy, his eyes mirroring the amount of joy you see in kat's.

"in that case, let's go." after about an hour of walking through the paddock, finding spare headsets in the mclaren garage, and smiling as kat and dan can't control their own amazement at the works of engineering in front of them land sheepishly asking a few drivers for photos,) you make your way, finally, to the mercedes garage. "re you two hungry at all? care for a coffee or tea? mercedes has the best food in the paddock. "

"i'd love a coffee, actually." dan says. "kat? you want anything?"

"a cuppa sounds perfect, thank you."

"i've got it. here, have a seat, i'll be right back, " you say, attempting to sound as casual as physically possible when you know you're about to blow their minds. they sit at one of the tables in the small cafe, and you go up to the barista, ordering dan and kat's drinks before ducking away and making your way to lewis' driver's room, knocking a few times and stepping back, smiling when the door opens and you see him, fuck, he looks good. "hi, lewis."

he knew you were going to be in silver stone for the 70th anniversary race, but that isn't until next weekend. "you've here early," he says, leaning against the doorframe. "why's that?"

"i can't want to see my favorite driver at his home race?" you cock an eyebrow and cross your arms, but there's sarcasm evident in your voice. "plus, i missed you. can i tie up your schedule for a bit?"

"it depends. how is my schedule being tied up if i agree?" lewis is matching your own bass, and you smile.

"just some people i'd like you to meet. remember those passes i asked you to have made? well... they're in the cafe and i think the cherry on top of their day would be meeting you."

"in that case, you can tie up my schedule, but i only have fifteen minutes before the strategy meeting." you grin brightly, and your eyes squishing in the corners makes lewis smile in turn, "before we go, though, i do have a little request. come in for a quick minute?" he steps to the side and you gladly follow, turning towards lewis when you hear the door click shut behind you. he's taking off his Mercedes- branded face mask, and you take that as permission lo take your own off. "you know..." he begins, stepping towards you. your breath catches in your throat as all of your senses one immediately overwhelmed with everything lewis. his left hand comes up to hold your and check you gladly lean into his touch, the gentleness of his touch a stark contrast his calloused to fingertips. the next words he says ring in your head, repeating like church bells.

"i missed you, too." those words are the last thing you process before lewis' lips are on yours and every ounce of tension leaves your body.

"mm, lewis, " you say, pulling away from the blissful kiss much to your dismay. "our guests are waiting." lewis groans, and you giggle.

"fine, but after we've done with that and i'm free from my strategy meeting, we're coming back here and finishing what we started."

"deal."

kat and dan are, obviously, completely and entirely dumbfounded when you return to the cafe, six-time world champion in tow.

they're even happier when they watch lewis cross the line in first place, five seconds ahead of max verstappen.

after the podium and post-race interviews, you find yourself crowded against the wall of lewis' driver's room yet again. your kisses are hot and messy, desperate hands wandering around each other's bodies. sometime in the lust-addled haze, you're laying back onto the couch pushed against the back wall and your jeans are being thrown somewhere across the room. whatever, you don't care where they are or how wrinkled they're going to be because lewis is eating you out again and, within minutes, you're cumming on his tongue again as his nose bumps against your clit. when he kisses you, your cum smears on your cheeks and chin and nose and it's so, so filthy, but you wouldn't have it any other way.

"are you coming to any other races this year?" lewis speaks up, his voice echoing through his chest. he's found you a pair of joggers that you'd slipped on after another set of blissful kisses and a messy (but very perfect) handjob. he's laying on the couch and you're resting on top of him, your arms wrapped around his torso and his own surrounding your shoulders. your socked feet are tangled with lewis' own, and his fingers, unusually absent of any jewelry, run gently along the curve of your shoulders.

"i'm not sure. i haven't gotten any race assignments yet from upper management, and traveling is really difficult right now if you don't have a work visa."

"i bet i can send some emails." you can almost hear the smirk in his voice.

"lewis," you scoff, burying your face in his chest. he smells like forests and jasmine and safety. "you're going to be the death of me."

[kneelingshadowsalome]

Just Friends (König x F!Reader)

How to Get Her Back 4/4 (Word count 7.3 k)

Summary: König is a horny, creepy killing machine obsessed with a shy, kind reader who has a raging knife kink.

Tags/warnings: 🔞 Eventual smut, eventual violence, angst, dark romance, canon divergence. Crack treated seriously. Yandere undertones, implied stalking, panty stealing, major character death, size kink, voyeurism, possessive sex, twisted, fluffy feelings. Loner boy/gentle girl dynamic. Protective!Obsessive!Top!König. Reader works as a cleaner at the base. She is described to have hair and prefers to wear dresses off work. Not safe or sane but mostly consensual.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

The knife still juts from the table.

She touches it often, fondles the handle like it's her lover.

Days pass, and König escapes her stare with raised shoulders and poorly disguised hurt in his eyes. She feels his eyes on her every single time she's not looking.

He breaks into her room every night, but she never wakes up to his presence. The only thing that tells her the man's been there are the fresh flowers on her table next to the knife.

He brings her flowers every morning, just like he promised, and she keeps the blade there to remind him that he's still in her heart. It's like a silent conversation, and it stabs her stomach full of pain.

On the fourth day, he returns her panties. They're covered in dried cum, and at first, it makes her feel disgusted. Then her heart flutters, a warm feeling settles deep inside her stomach when she imagines him jerking himself off to her underwear amidst his knives, with despair and longing coating the air.

For anyone else, it might be a chilling thing to wake up to: to open eyes to the sight of a brutal tactical knife, freshly picked forget-me-nots and some cum-stained lace. But for her, it's a loving attempt to remind her who she belongs to. It's also a sign that the man is trying to let her go and finally obey her wishes to be left alone.

And she doesn't want to be left alone.

He promised she would never be alone.

On the fifth day, there's no flowers, there's nothing. She starts her day with a horrible, awful bawl. Then she puts on a black dress. It makes her look odd, like she's in mourning, but it also gives her… power, somehow. Even if it's another cute kind of cotton babydoll dress, it makes her look more austere.

“König, wait.”

She chases him down this time: runs to his retreating form that stops the instant she calls his name. He’s tense when she walks the last steps to him and hugs him from behind. The familiar scent of tea tree and gasoline and sweat and guns bring a visceral memory of madness to her mind. It’s an ambrosia of crude virility, and she's missed him, God, that she's missed him.

It's also safety. Because no matter what anyone says, he is the only one who knows her, sees her, sees right into her core, her very soul.

He slowly places a hand on hers, the arms that embrace his narrow, treelike middle.

"Engel…"

The voice comes out tight and strained. He caresses her hand with hesitation and swallows.

"I'm confused.. I don't know what you want me to do."

"Come with me," she whispers in his back. He has no gear on, and she can feel his abs through the black shirt, the way his shoulder blades flare against her cheek with shallow breaths. "If you want…?"

"Ganz sicher."

She takes him by the hand and guides him to her room. People look at them with pity and dread, and she feels like they’re in high school where people were divided into groups of popular and unpopular.

She knows where she and König would’ve belonged. Where they belonged now…

And she just doesn't care anymore.

When the door to her room shuts behind him, she feels a little tug near her heart. She had nearly forgotten how big König looks inside her little room, the space she has tried to turn into a cozy home even though she doesn't view the base as her home like the soldiers do. It's just a place for her to reside in when she's working.

But he does not fit into a normal society like she does. The base must be the closest thing to a home for him. Not every elite soldier is a lunatic perhaps, but König certainly couldn't find any other job in the modern world that would cater to his needs without sending him behind bars.

But he was supposed to kill only in the field. Only somewhere far, far away.

Why did you do it?

Why…?!

That's what she meant to ask when they're behind closed doors, but something quite different comes out instead.

"Did you miss me…?"

She stands before him, holding her hands in front of her, looking probably quite silly clad in black.

"I've been in hell ever since I left, Engel."

Christ have mercy…

Normal men just didn't talk like that.

"Will you forgive me?" He looks her up and down, but the calm, proud posture, the way he holds his chin high behind that dark shroud tells her he's not used to begging. She has a feeling that this question is asked only because Soap suggested it would be a good idea to apologize for making her so upset.

"It's not me you should be–" She sighs. "Look… That man had a wife. König, I think he had a kid and everything."

His eyes are covered in a veil of disinterest only she can pierce. There's actually so much going on behind that odd, distanced stare. But what’s horrifying is that he clearly doesn’t agree with her on this matter.

"I kill people every week," he declares. "Just not in the break room."

His logic leaves her wordless for a moment. The officer was not an enemy, he was not part of some foreign military, his only crime was that he was in a hurry…

She has barely even opened her mouth to speak before he finally defends himself.

"How do you know his wife is not secretly happy with the news?"

The question is like a bucket of ice dipped in her head. She had prepared herself for almost anything but this. König only tilts his head and narrows his stare.

"Would you want to be wife to that kind of man?"

Her mouth opens on its own; her jaw would fall to the floor if it could do such a thing. His worldview unfolds before her in full, and it should disgust her: but all she feels is an odd thrill in her stomach from realizing this man is not only possessive; he's also fiercely traditional.

"He just spilled some coffee on me," she whispers in soft, tender horror. "He just happened to have a bad day."

"How many times a week did he have a bad day?"

The defense is solid, even if it's preposterous. The man was rude and disrespectful, yes. To everyone, every day, probably continued the abuse at home, too. But he didn't deserve to be killed for it. Still, König doesn't seem to find any fault in his way of thinking.

"I can tell when people are evil," he crosses his arms over his chest as a final note.

Evil…

Evil.

She's left blinking, then she finds her tongue again.

"You can't just… deal punishment like that," she huffs.

"Why not?"

Jesus Christ…

His arms are still over his chest, and he looks… so big, so powerful, like an omnipotent being.

Probably thinks he is.

"Will you go to jail?" She changes the subject because arguing with this kind of man seems futile. Downright hopeless.

"No," he says with perpetual calm. "Would you want to see me in jail?"

"...No."

He finally unravels his arms and takes a few steps toward her. That swaying lounge is intoxicating and seductive, even when he doesn't mean it as such. It's just the way he walks, but it makes her woozy.

"Engel. You are too… kind for this world."

More odd arguments are laid out before her, more confusion and love and pain. He raises a hand to touch her arm and make his point clear. The weight of him is heavy and adult, his military clothing is in blaring contrast to her tiny, childish dress.

"You don't understand it now, but perhaps someday you will."

The man looks like he doesn't quite know what to do with her. She's a child in his eyes, but something in this lunacy tells her she's dealing with a child, too: a boy who no one ever loved.

"My little angel. Always wearing pretty dresses," he says more softly now.

"I'm not an angel."

"Yes you are," he rules without effort. "And you look good in everything. But you shouldn't wear black."

"Why not…?"

"Because you belong with flowers."

Her heart aches, her eyes prick with burning tears. He's self-aware, that's for sure. He knows what he has done to her, what he is doing to her. And he wishes to spare her from him.

"I thought you liked black," she peeps, her mind and will and defense breaking.

He doesn't say anything, but his hand brushes down her cheek, then cups her chin softly. That same hand must be ironclad when it grips his enemies and brings them to his blade.

"I like this dress," she tries to quarrel, voice shaking.

"And I know a knife that would go perfectly with it."

His eyes are warm. There's even a passing sadness in them. She's relatively sure that he's not talking about butterfly knives any longer – she's almost certain that König hasn't gifted his weapons to any other human being on this earth.

“How about we take off that pretty little dress now, hmm?”

The time for the compulsory explanations is over in his mind, and it’s time for sex. He knows that his exile has ended, that whatever liminal space they walked in for a few days wasn’t enough to rid herself of him. There’s no turning back anymore, and he looks at her with amused hunger when she obeys his suggestion which is, in truth, a command.

Her fingers do not shake anymore as she undresses for him, but a shiver goes through her guts: that stare is a look from beyond. He’s a madman, and falling more in love with her every day, even if the only way he knows how to love is by stabbing people with his cock or his knife.

“Lie down,” he gives her more orders when she stands before him with nothing on.

It’s futile, completely futile to pretend that she doesn’t want this. It’s almost like an act, the way she slowly and demurely obeys his command. In reality, she wants nothing more than to be devoured by him.

He takes his clothes off while she waits for him on the bed like an injured bird. He rips, then throws his gloves off like they have done something naughty, all the while his gaze is fixed on her. She has missed the sight of that faint hair on his abs, missed that broad chest, missed how his muscles bunch even when he gets out of a shirt that weighs practically nothing in his hands.

The long, veined cock flies out from his pants with a demanding bounce that makes her swallow. They form an odd pair on the floor: her little dress and his huge woodland camos. His eyes are surrounded in black paint under the eternal mask, but otherwise, he's the palest man she has ever seen.

Her breasts rise and fall with aroused breaths as he settles himself beside her, naked and blazing. His cock is pure fire when it gets trapped between them, and he's already drooling hot precum on her thigh.

He's gentle, kind of. Slides a hand over her shivering stomach, palms one breast, then takes a nipple between his fingertips and gives her a pinch.

“Did you miss me too?”

The hood makes him look like a hangman, and he’s infuriatingly patient now. She expected him to rail her like a sex toy right after the door was closed.

"Yes."

He releases her, and the callous descends with a gentle, deliberate caress to her waist.

"Then you're the first who ever did."

She just might be the first woman he's gentle with, too, and she cannot help but think if it's because of what she said just before he killed that poor man. If the last piece of the puzzle locked in place when he realized how much she admired him. If her confession also made him stake his claim in the loudest possible way, announcing everyone that he's her protector.

It's not her fault that the man's dead, but she should be ashamed: she's wet already when the murderer's fingers delve further down to meet her folds. He disappears somewhere in her wetness, and her thighs rise and drift apart to give him full access.

And it's always like this: she spreads legs for him with a helpless, longing stare, he takes in what belongs to him with dark, pleased hunger.

He finds her clit in no time, drags his thumb over it, and she gasps. Her breaths come quick now, her nipples are shot to the sky and her back is already arching when he delves down and slides one finger inside. It's long and lean, and her cunt grips him like they have been apart for four weeks instead of four days.

He sighs under the mask, just from her greedy response. She wants to touch him too, but doesn't dare to move when he's looking at her like that. He starts to finger her gently, first with one, then two digits while attending to the tight nub on top. And he's good with a knife, quick with his hands, so what did she expect?

But she’s also sad and mad. Because he definitely knows what he’s doing. And it makes her think…

"Have you had a lot of women..?"

Her question is a mouse's whisper. His fingers halt inside her; they spread her with delicious torture.

"A few," he says. "Back in Austria."

He buries his face in her neck and nuzzles his way to her ear. The bag of darkness is soft and hot, but nothing compared to his heated whisper.

"But they were nothing like you."

He punctuates the declaration by curling the fingers inside her. She bites her lip to stifle a filthy, needy moan. He even grinds his hips against her: that cock is like a heated spear against her soft thigh, and more cum oozes out to trickle down her leg.

"How many men have had you, Engel?"

He doesn't ask: how many men has she had. She may not be his plaything, but she is his possession. In his mind, she belongs to him and only him, no matter who has come before. But the murderous passion with which he waits for her answer makes her flustered, and she bolts her mouth tight in an indication that she will not disclose this information.

"Gut. Don't tell. I would kill them all."

Oh.

Oh…

"Would you like that…?"

"No," she whimpers.

"Yes you would."

“I don’t–I don't want you to–”

“Shh.”

He’s working those fingers smooth and quick, and she’s already leaking on his hand, probably on the bed, too… The room is filled with sighs and whimpers and sobs as he fucks her with slick, wet sounds. She's close the edge in mere minutes, but he won’t let her finish.

Instead, he pulls out just when she's about to tighten around him.

"Why-why did you stop?"

"Angel... Take me in your mouth," he rasps, breathless too despite trying to disguise it. She briefly wonders if this is some sort of a punishment. That perhaps she’s ordered to give him a blowjob just when she’s about to come – after all, she has dared to keep him waiting for days.

But that’s not the case, it seems, as she moves with heavy limbs to fulfill his wish.

"Nein… Other way around. I want to taste you."

The perverse suggestion in the break room turns into a reality as she realizes what he wants to do. Her heart is pounding when she crawls on top of him to meet that leaking cock. How exactly is that thing even going to fit inside her mouth?

A sudden shyness takes her as her thighs are forced into a wide-legged spread from straddling the broadest man on earth. She's exposed to the cold air only for a second before his breath hits her. The shortest shadow of a stubble on that usually clean-shaven chin meets her soaked cunt with hunger.

“Ah… Take it– in your mouth,” he moans orders to her folds, and her cunt clenches immediately, just from hearing that accent and that voice.

She moves to give him a shy lick, sweeps a tongue over that tip to clean him from all that precum. He goes tense under her and breathes heavily when she wraps her hand around him, wraps her mouth around the weeping slit.

He tastes of salt and sin, and the minute she tries to take more of him in, he groans with a dry throat. It's a hot, broken breath that travels straight inside her. It’s too much – the position is far too stimulating, it’s over the top wicked.

And then he starts to lick her. It messes up the blowjob that has barely even started. She knows his hood must be almost completely off, otherwise he wouldn't be able to breathe.

"Take a bit more, Engel," he urges between the long slathers that already sound lewd. There's simply no way to take it fully in, he’s far too long for that. The last thing she wants to do is gag on him. But she does a good enough job, tries to concentrate on breathing through her nose as she goes as deep as she can.

"That's…more like it…"

It’s a relieved notion somewhere behind her before he continues with the agonizingly slow licks. Fat and flat-tongued, the work of a famished man. For someone who's so clumsy with social interaction, he’s infuriatingly good at giving pleasure to women. The tip of his tongue grazes her clit, and causes a muffled moan – her mouth is full of him but she just cannot help herself.

And arms of steel close around her middle the minute she whimpers on his cock. They pull her closer to his face – he wants to hear her make noise, then, and her will to compete arises. She wants to make him moan too. She ups the pace, flattens her tongue on him every time she retreats…

"Where did you learn to–nnh…"

She nearly laughs at his surprise, at their silly little competition. He's shocked, probably jealous too, of her past and the imagined cavalcade of men who may or may not have been inside her mouth before him. She swirls a tongue around the tip every now and then, wraps her lips tight around him, and goes even deeper.

"Verdammte Scheiße.. I'm not going to last long…"

Strong thighs around her power up, and he has stopped licking her altogether: he's just panting in her pussy and holding on to her hips while waiting for the upcoming wave.

"You know what to do, ja?" He pants that question like she doesn't know he's about to shoot a load on her tongue soon.

"Don't make a mess," he shares advice with a sly tone to his voice. "Unless you want to clean after…"

He gives a short laugh as if the joke is funny. As if that's a clever thing to say to a cleaning lady. It makes her grip him harder, and he's close, so close: he's not even moving anymore, everything's just completely rigid under her body and inside her mouth.

"I'm fucking–cumming…"

He spills with a long groan, moans against her cunt, cries inside her with pain. The seed is hot and heavy, it shoots right down her throat even in this position. She does the best she can to not make that mess, but it's hard work when a giant cock pulses in her mouth.

"You're perfect, angel," he sighs behind her, tries to feed more of himself inside her mouth by rolling his hips.

The praise makes her pump and suck him even more, get every last drop out, and a tremble goes through her lover. She has to take support from the bed until the earthquakes recede. His cock is a clean mess after, and she's a mess too: overworked, and shy, and victorious.

They're both left panting: she tries to catch some breath there between his thighs after everything, but she's not allowed to rest and recover. The grip around her middle pulls her back, and a breathless man trying to lick her like it's the end of the world is not only far too much, it's unbearable. She's already overly sensitive and needy from the four days of barren grief.

"It's too much…" She tries to tell him, but he won't listen. If anything, it only spurs him on.

"König, I can't," she wails softly while resting her head on his thigh.

"Yes you can."

A feverish tongue dips inside her as deep as it goes. It forces her legs apart, she spreads herself all over his face completely unwillingly. There's no mercy for her as he flicks a tongue over her clit, plunges a tongue inside her as deep as it goes, returns to the nub again – does it again and again and again like it's some secret code meant to break her.

"You like that, huh?" His rough voice is muffled by her cunt, he sounds both parched and wet.

"Hm? Talk to me," he demands an answer although it should be obvious that she's losing her mind from his treatment.

"Yes," she mewls while being spread so crudely wide for him. "I… I love it…"

"Hah. You sound like a little cat," he laughs, pleased, then gets to it again. She's so close now that she can feel the growing waves. Her thighs are not just shaking, they're trembling.

"So pretty and so wet," he comments between the licking and dipping, voice covered with smoke from all the lust. And he's hard again, too: right next to her face, and she could cry actual tears – what if he plans on fucking her too after this? It's too much, she can't even take this, she can't…

But she does.

Her back starts to arch just before the orgasm. She's not weeping yet, but every noise she makes sounds like she's crying her heart out.

"Slow down, slow–down, please…"

She's a one-woman choir of tight pleas. She tries to muffle them by burying her face somewhere in his thighs and musk. The tongue dips in and out like he's a machine and not a man, and the first wave hits unexpectedly, like a searing, white-hot blade.

"A–ah!"

The climax swallows her, she starts grinding against that face without meaning to. He only laughs and buries his nose and tongue deeper into her slickness. The arms around her hold her like iron bars, his breaths hit her along with his tongue like she's strapped to a torture device.

Her cunt is sloppy, and throbbing, and he is a torturer, licks her even when she's lying on top of him in ruin: a devastated, trembling heap of a woman who's lost everything.

"Stop–König, you need to stop…"

Her weak whispers do nothing. His tongue sweeps her from front to back until she's crying on top of him. Frail fingers try to claw his thighs but grasp nothingness.

When he finally relents, he does it with another laugh. Then he gives her a last lick: a total bully, snorts a chuckle when a tremble goes through her entire body from just that single, fat sweep.

"Mmm. That was good. Right?"

"M–mh…"

There are tears in her eyes, but not one comes out. Her pussy throbs and winks with the aftershocks, and his hand moves up and down her back like she's that little cat.

"You're mean," she sobs. Complains.

"Heh… you didn't like it?"

"I did," she sniffs, and his hand moves to caress her thigh.

"I know you did. I know you. Everything about you."

He sounds merciful at last, pats her leg softly.

"Come here. I'll take care of you."

When she turns and crawls back to him, his mask is fully in place. He receives her with open arms and speaks more softly than ever.

"I have to take care of you after. Isn't that so?"

"Yes…"

She holds onto him, because he's the only thing that's solid in her world at this point. His aftercare is the most tender thing she has ever known: her hair is being caressed gently, the tension in her neck and back is soothed with long, loving strokes. He buries his mask in her hair and inhales her after-sex scent like it's a whole offering of incense.

"Angel. You feel like… like it's my birthday."

His statement brings another round of tears to her eyes. Instinct tells her that birthdays might've been the only happy days of the year for this man.

"I didn't hurt you, did I?"

He sounds worried when she's so quiet and timid again. Her heart settles slowly into a warm pool of love, she presses herself against him with fervor, and he squeezes her in turn like she's the most perfect birthday present ever.

"No."

I really needed that.

I need you…

"I will never let you go again," he promises. "Never. Do you understand?"

"Yes," she whispers. "I don't– I don't want you to go."

"Little one. I'm so glad I found you."

He takes her palm and uses it to brush away the hood from his lips. The violent edge is always taken away after sex, and the devouring is gentle, the passion is blunt. His kiss is soft; sweet.

"König…" She's raw and bare in his arms, her adoration reflects back to her from his blues. "Why did you pick me?"

"You're the one who picked me, Engel. I just answered your call."

He takes in the effect this truth has on her, then takes her breath away with another kiss. A small giggle erupts in the lazy afternoon as he threatens to crush her with a bear hug. Her hand steals its way further under the mask: she meets smooth skin and a collection of even smoother bumps.

"Why can't I see your face..?"

"It's not a pretty sight," he sighs. "Father liked to cut me when I was little."

The laziness leaves her body that very instant. The man is detached, distant: as if he's sharing something trivial, the city he grew up in or his favorite subject in school.

She doesn't know whether to feel pity or terror, but what he says next sends even more ice down her spine.

"Now I cut those who are evil."

Everything starts to make perfect sense.

Why he was bullied at school, why people fear him. Why disrespectful, cruel men deserve to be knifed and why women and wives are angels. Why he wears a mask.

It's not sound reasoning, but it is a strategy, perhaps. Survival… A defense mechanism.

And offense is the best defense…

She had been right: this man is incurable, only in ways she could never have guessed.

Afterwards, he shows her his knives.

His room is full of them: combat knives, throwing knives, bowie knives, daggers, bayonets, balisongs, two machetes, a kukri, knives she doesn't even have a name for… There's swords and sticks and a riot shield. There's only one bed, nothing more, not even a nightstand.

And the room is also full of guns.

Assault rifles, sniper rifles, shotguns, handguns; there's scopes, tripods, gloves, gas masks, a ghillie suit, pouches, plate carrier vests, magazines, grenades, even a launcher.

The room is filled with violence.

And she didn't know what she expected.

Some "Hot Gun Babes" wall calendar and a few pocket knives? That he would play by the rules and keep weapons and gear where they were stored instead of in his fucking room?

He gives her his third gift that pairs well with her black dress, or any dress, for that matter. Another knife, but not the kind he kills people with, nor the flimsy kind used for entertainment purposes.

She receives an automatic switchblade, simple but pretty. The double-edged blade looks almost feminine, the way it curves into a sharp, dainty tip. The handle is made of sturdy, polished wood; it's incredibly beautiful and so dark it's nearly black. The knife is only a threat when it's flicked open: all in all a piece that isn’t what it seems.

"Hier. Good little blade. Would take it wherever I go."

"Thank you."

"Anything for you, Engel."

She kisses him after his gift. She kisses the white scar on his jaw, lifts the mask a bit more, and he doesn't stop her. He doesn't stop her, not even when she finds more keloid cuts and kisses them too.

And he's… simply a man.

There's a human under all that darkness.

It's not a pretty sight, perhaps, but for those scars, she couldn't love him more.

"You're not afraid of me," he sounds surprised when she takes in the violence done to his face with tenderness in her gaze.

"No."

He's speechless. The barricade covering his eyes is permanently broken, and she can see him, all of him.

She falls to her knees and opens his pants, gives the man another round of love. He looks at her with pain and pleasure; a pale, adoring god. Strokes her hair gently while she gets drunk on him like a succubus, wants him to spill that white on her face and all over her pretty black dress.

"Cum on my face, König."

She looks at him with angel eyes while saliva and drool make a rope from her mouth to his throbbing cock. But there is nothing left of the celestial, nothing more than a sweet, fallen angel, and a safe space just for her and him.

"Please…?"

Ruin me.

He hesitates a few seconds, then grabs his cock in an iron fist like it's heavy artillery.

"Whatever my angel wants, she shall have."

. . . . . .

He brings her flowers every morning and fucks her every night.

Sometimes he catches her when she's outside in the sun, reading a book or watching the clouds. He carries her off to the woods and takes her against a tree like they're the first man and woman on the earth after tasting the forbidden apple. They share a few hushed laughs and more than a few desperate kisses under the hood, then he brings her back to earth, straightens her dress like a gentleman before leaving to have a date with death.

He takes her out to eat sometimes, takes her to the shooting range. Calls her his little Wildkatze when she takes a liking to one of his shotguns. He takes her hand when they stroll through the grass and sings an old love song from his homeland. He has a beautiful voice, especially when he forgets he's in company. Or perhaps she's just special like that…

They share a secret language in the base. Whenever he sees her, he draws his knife and throws it in the air ("I miss you") or twirls it around ("The things I will do to you tonight…"). Sometimes, he just places a hand on the handle of the cruel blade. That stands for 'You're mine'.

It's the closest thing to I love you before either of them have spoken the actual words. Or then it's the closest thing to I love you he's capable of.

She gives him a small smile in return, puts a hand in her pocket and fondles the gift she carries everywhere she goes. He knows it's a nod to his secret messages. It stands for 'You're my everything'.

She keeps the switchblade with her even when she's wearing a dress after work. Red this time, the color of passion.

She wants to surprise him: König always comes to her before nightfall, but this time, she wants to go and visit him. She wants him to take her in the middle of black steel and acrid gunpowder while she's dressed in blood.

"Be a darling and fix me a cup of coffee, will you?"

She's stopped by Phillip Graves of all people. Another man who has never paid her any attention. Apparently, red cloth is the same thing for evil men as it is for the enraged animals in bullfighting shows.

She does stop, but she doesn't obey his wishes. She just stares him down like he's filth: another thing she thought she could never do.

I'm not your coffee girl.

"C'mon honey. I've had a bad day." The man only seems to feed off from her silent scorn: like it's some dark game they're playing now. "You could make it so much better."

For fuck's sake…

Here is a man who disrespects everything about her: her position as a cleaner, her value as a woman, her rank as a shy being who is too kind for this world. She's simply a doll who doesn't know how to kill, who doesn't know how to say no. This man however, won't take no for an answer.

"I'm not here to serve coffee," she says with pure ice.

"Is that so?"

"Yes. And I'm off duty, too."

"Thought we could have a little chat, you and I."

"Why?"

"You seem like an interesting woman."

He seems pleased with the fact that for some reason, she's still here, that he has her attention. Thinks he's winning her over with some yucky flirting.

"And wearing a red dress like that…" He tsks, as if it's a crime for a woman to wear red. "Red can drive a man crazy, darling."

She understands why she has been invisible to everyone except König up until this point.

Because deep down, she knows if she would carry herself in full, show herself to the world as the woman she truly is, she would instantly attract love, and power, and hunger, and lust.

"I'm going to go now, sir."

"Tell you what. You serve me that coffee and I'll let you go."

She catches sadism in that stare. And to think she had always found Graves to be somewhat… arrogant, perhaps, but not cruel. The man obviously has a Napoleon complex, but he was not supposed to be sadistic.

How wrong she has been.

She knows she could just get out of the situation by filling that mug the bastard can't fill himself because of some stupid need to have a powerplay moment with an innocent little girl who happens to wear red.

But she doesn't want to. König would have ripped this guy's head off by now.

"I'm off duty," she repeats.

Fuck these men who are always looking for a plaything.

Graves rises from the chair. She's both cold and sweaty by the time he has taken a step, two, three.

But men are a bit stupid sometimes.

They think dresses don't have pockets.

When he takes the fourth and last step, with joy-tinged cruelty in his eyes, she flicks the knife out and open, and simply stabs him in the supposed direction of the organ called heart.

It feels thrilling, pure power: to sink that knife there and catch a man – a soldier of all people – unawares.

So this is what it feels like…

The hurt in his stare doesn't necessarily come from pain, but from the realization that he has made a huge miscalculation.

He looks down at the small knife that will be the end of him, then at her, the woman he thought was just a simple, shy cleaner he could bully into submission.

"You fucking–bitch," he gasps. Weakly.

By the time she pulls the knife out and stabs him again, she's somewhere far away. It hits him in the stomach, and he still doesn't do anything about it, and that's the moment she finds pity, and mercy, and horror.

She turns and stumbles, then runs from the room, unsure if the thump on the floor behind her is real or imagined.

"You fucking whore…!"

The shout is real enough though, and she runs, runs, with a sharp little knife in her hand for what seems like an eternity. That flight is a prolonged medieval torture moment that ends in front of König's door.

Her titan is as calm as ever when he opens the door, and tilts his head when he sees she's breathing fast.

"I think I killed Phillip Graves," she informs with eyes wide.

He blinks, then immediately looks at her hand, the knife, the blood. She goes to him, lifts a hand to his shirt in a desperate attempt to find support. There's not even that much blood. She thought killing would be much messier.

König said it would be messy.

"I… He…"

Her hands won't even shake. All her senses are blown wide and sharp, she sees everything, hears everything, but her hands won't shake.

Is she a psychopath?

"I killed Phillip Graves," she repeats, looks at his chest, clutches at the knife, clutches at his shirt.

The door behind her closes, and König takes hold of her shoulders with warm, warm hands.

"Well done, Engel," he says with such joy, such unbound pride that it snaps her back into reality.

Her jaw starts to tremble, her teeth clatter, she raises her eyes to him…

"He… He wanted coffee, and to talk, and he liked my dress, and–"

"Did he touch you?"

He asks it like it's far more important than what she has just done. She has to shuffle through her memory, but she finds no recalling of Graves laying a single finger on her.

"No."

He was about to. Right?

He was. He threatened me–

"Don't shed tears for him," König says as he looks down at her with mesmerized awe and infatuation. "I can promise you he doesn't deserve them."

Then he hugs her, squeezes her and just holds her, and she's still holding on to the murder weapon.

What will everyone say? What will my friends say?

"My little angel is good with a knife," the titan laughs proudly somewhere high above her.

People have killed each other since the dawn of time.

These things happen.

I'm not the first murderer on this planet.

"My poor little… He was a bad man, Engel. I promise you that."

It's not a big deal. He was a killer too.

He could've died in the field…

"I'm going to jail," she whispers on his shirt. She wants to let go of the knife, but fears it might hurt him or her when it falls.

And she remembers she's not dealing with normal people.

"They will kill me for this," she says with distant realization.

"No they won't," he strokes her hair like she's the best pet he has ever had. "I will take the blame. It was my knife, ja?"

She pushes herself away to look at him, then nods slowly. Her jaw just won't stop trembling.

"Good girl," he pulls her against him again, so fondly that it forces out a whimper.

"Mh."

"Come here," he coos while already holding her so impossibly close. He's surprisingly good at this: at comforting her. Or then it simply feels uncommonly good to have someone sturdy to hang on to while her life and identity are falling apart.

"I'm not sure if he's dead," she whispers when the embrace lingers on. König breaks the hug immediately.

"You didn't confirm the kill?"

She must look like a shy cleaner again, because his resolve is stone cold and solid.

"Engel, I will go and finish it. Where is he?"

She tells, because he would find out anyway. He would start a manhunt and cause even more ruckus.

But when his hand reaches the doorknob, when he's already about to go and finish her crime on top of taking the full blame for it, he turns.

"Do I have your permission?"

Her jaw slowly stops trembling, and a soft sweetness spreads through her heart. The elite soldier, the mass murderer, asks for her permission.

She is more than just special…

"Yes," she whispers, and he gives her a curt nod before storming out the door.

And he's not living in the 21st century.

Instead, he walks in the world of gladiators, rages in a blood-drunk arena, lives in a time where killing was the norm. He solves problems with physical force: it's just that simple. There is no complex society, there are no rules other than the rules of the heart and the loins.

Anyone who disrespects her will get the blade, anyone who might take her away from him will make him do whatever is in his power to prevent it.

And he has the ultimate power: the power of violence.

He comes back surprisingly clean: only a tiny speckle of blood on his camos and some vivid-colored grime on his hands.

"Done."

She nods with solemn silence. She's done, too. Done with everything, because everything's gone. No matter how high the sun is, she will walk in darkness from now on.

"I believe you Engel. He swore he didn't touch you."

And God.

She might be special, but a dying enemy's, a man's word is more worth to him than hers. As if she would try to protect Graves from his wrath by lying.

And Graves wasn't even dead…

But he is now. Probably tortured too to get the truth out about not soiling her with his paws.

"Did anyone see you..?"

"No. But they will know it was me."

It's another gift to her. Another murder. And her purity, intact, in exchange for a compliment, a testimony of his character during a lazy coffee break. For a few kisses on his scars of abuse. For letting him fuck her like a beast.

Her gifts are burning tears, soft flesh and tight little cries…

His gifts are cold, black steel, hot, white cum and a stream of crimson blood.

"Thank you…"

"I would do anything for you." He bows his head, a little nod to inform her that he is hers to command. "Anything you want, just ask."

She's at home in hell, filled with guns and knives and a fallen god. She knows he will take her again tonight, just like he has done every night in the past weeks. In every position imaginable, grunting, howling, panting, laughing how sweet she is, asking if she likes what he is doing to her. She has always whispered yes through tears of hot joy.

Sometimes, they come together and their gazes lock, and it feels like drifting into a starless space with him. He strokes her hair and coats her with whispers of love before they fall asleep. They always curl up together in the cover of womblike darkness, with soft little smiles on their faces, safe from all evil.

"Can you keep me safe…?"

It's a sad little question, but she doesn't feel weak. She knows he is lost in her too: especially when she's wearing a dress the color of blood, especially when she looks at him like he's her God.

"Please keep me safe."

He comes to her carefully, answers her summons. She's pulled into a familiar embrace, and she doesn't even think about Graves anymore: she thinks about whether König will take her on the bed that smells of acid sweat or on the wall next to the gun rack.

"Always, Engel. I promise."

She holds the most powerful weapon in her tiny little hand. A dark, fallen titan who has risen from the depths of the earth to pledge himself to her, body and soul, while her innocent little dresses flutter in the wind and make everyone believe she's a victim. But she doesn't feel sorry.

Because it's just like he said.

They belong together, she and him.

🖤 🖤 🖤

Taglist:

@ghostinvenus @konigsleftkidney @stillinracooncity @valenspuppy @koionthewalls

[leonstoenailunderhisbed]

American Psycho Killer: The Sequel

Summary: After Leon perfectly got away with murder and finally got the chance to be with the girl who lived just down the hall, he hasn't noticed that she, too, was just like him.

Warning: stalking, murdering, mentions of planned murder, death, smut, creampie, yan!leon, not proofread lol, fem reader, psychopathic, yan!reader, stalking, masturbating (female), dry humping, this might be my nastiest work yet

A/N: RAHHH GUESS WHO PASSED HER PSYCHOLOGY FINAL- ME!!!! im a certified psychologist now (this is joke btw)

[part one]

“I got you under my skin” - Mirotic, TVXQ!

People always seem to forget that not all psychopaths are the same. Sure, most share the same goal. But not every psychopath is the same. According to Kurt Scheinder, there are different personality types within the psychopathic community.

Leon's an affectionless psychopath; he's cold, antisocial, manipulative, and very assertive. He's a perfect murderer who kills anyone who dares to touch or hurt you. But he won't show or tell you how concerned he is for you. He doesn't feel love. No, it's quite different.

Psychopaths can fall in love with other people, but it's not the same. Leon's emotions are shallow and empty. But he still wants you to be his. He's possessive over you, he wants you in a sense that he can't even explain it himself.

But what he doesn't know is that you were also in the same percentage of psychopaths. You aren't affectionless, you're an obsessive psychopath. Obsessive psychopaths are people who are extremely possessive and become obsessed with people. These types of people often act on their jealousy and sexual fantasies. What he didn’t know was that you were deep down the trenches for him.

After having sex with the man, he cleaned you up and left your apartment room. It was late and he had work tomorrow, like every day. You felt conflicted, in a way, you had sex with your neighbor on the day of your ex's funeral. If you believed in God, you were sure he would send you straight to hell. But you didn't care. Leon made you feel things you hadn't felt before.

You found yourself thinking about him and the way he filled you up. Luck was with you the next morning when you bought the last morning-after pill. The woman behind you glaring at you as you shamelessly grinned at her. You didn't care, why should you? You didn't want to get knocked up, as much as you'd love the idea of carrying Leon's child, you barely knew the man.

But that didn't stop you from taking his pictures every time he walked by. Your phone angled slightly as you took pictures of him when you two were in the elevator, or when you'd see him from your window as he walked away from his car. You'd watch him like a hawk watching the fish in the river, waiting for the perfect moment to claw deep into its fins and carry it to its nest.

Was this illegal? Probably but then again, most things were illegal in such a fucked up and greedy country. You cheated the system; too smart for them as you found loopholes around the terribly written constitution. You knew you could get away with anything if you played your cards right- a gamble.

Being a psychopath isn't praised in society, people hate such disconnected individuals but being a psychopath yourself, you actually blended in. No one would question your obsessive and stalking habits. No one would even guess that the sweet girl from the apartment building had a wall full of candid photos of the blonde agent.

You stood back as you marveled at the sights. Hundreds of photos plastered on the beige wall, all from different angles and days. Some you took when he had his morning jog, some were when you stayed up all night waiting for him to come home. Something about the way he looked when he was exhausted just turned you on. The wall was right in front of your bed. Every night, when you'd go to sleep, you would stare at the pictures and get all excited about your perverted fantasies.

As you stared at the wall with the photos, your hands slipped down your pajama shorts. Fingers rubbing against the lacey panties you wore. It was perverted but a part of you took pleasure in the way the countless pictures stared at you as you rubbed your clothed clit. Back arching as you bit your bottom lip, trying not to be too loud for the neighbors to hear.

It wasn't enough. You needed more.

Poor pillow, you thought as you took a long pillow from behind you. You sat up and straddled the pillow as you faced the Leon wall. The picures staring right back you as you rocked your hips against the comforting material. Wetness pooling in your panties, making them stick to your needy cunt as you humped the pillow, pretending it was him. The wetness seeped through your pajama shorts, feeling the cold slick collect as you rocked your hips. If anyone were to see you, you'd be embarrassed. Going off on the pictures of your neighbor as you rode the pillow pretending it was his cock. Your clit rubbed against the lace material of your panty, your folds gliding with ease as every hump. God, you felt like a teenage girl when she first discovers what Wattpad is.

Moans collected in your throat, daring to escape as you shut your eyes tightly closed. Bliss overtaking you as you grinded against your pillow harder and faster, like a dog in heat. Your hands squeezed tightly around the soft fabric of what you pretended would be Leon's shoulders- maybe neck if you wanted to feel more dominant. The pillow slowly began to get stained with your slick as you neared your orgasm, the way your panty roughly grinded against your cunt and clit set you aflame. It was all so wet and arousing; it got your back arching as you could just picture his cock thrusting up into your womb, sliding through your tight gummy walls as he would grip your hips and bounce you on his leaking cock. Even the thought of him made you cum faster. Feeling the way his muscles would feel and flex as you drove him to the edge from your riding, the way his sweat smelled as if it was an aphrodisiac. Addicting. He made you an addict.

Cumming hard on the pillow, your thighs trembled and your moans escaped your lips. As you rode through your high, you couldn't help but feel conflicted once again. This was psychotic behavior but who was here to judge you? Exactly, no one. Not even Leon's pictures who were staring directly at you. With a quiet sigh, you got off the pillow and began to clear the mess you left. All while you kept thinking about him.

-

The landlord of your apartment building was a strange man. Supportive, but strange. He had a basement in which he'd host events about anything. He believed he was some sort of Messiah that was sent by God to help cure the people of whatever was pestering them. Today was no different; you found yourself sitting in one of the chairs in the basement along with the other tenants. Leon was there too. Sitting on the other side of the basement with his arms crossed over his chest as he sat far away.

"Thank you all for coming, today I want to talk about a few things. Like grief. We know that the death of a recent tenant has been...difficult to overcome," the landlord began- referring to the guy that died from the fire. They never caught Leon, so no one suspected a thing, not even you.

"The fire department has told me that I should revise a fire drill in case something like this happens again," the landlord's voice was soft and you could swear he was high. Or maybe he wasn't and that was just the way he talked, either way, it made you want to fall asleep.

"Just so we're clear- there is a fire exit only on the right side of the building. The door to the stairs will only open once the smoke detectors have detected a fire. Do not, and i can't stress this enough, do not pry it open. Those things cost a fortune and I'd hate to have to increase everyone's rent." Everyone grumbled at the thought of paying more for some idiot's actions. Leon, however, just remained silent and observed. You couldn't help but steal glances at him, just admiring the way his brows were pinched together as his lips were a straight line.

For a white man, he looked very attractive. You'd let this white man colonize you.

And then his eyes landed on you. Those piercing blue eyes that were hard to read found your own, and he held eye contact. Daring you to look away, to which you couldn't. You were too enthralled, as if he threw a spell at you. Not like you'd mind, of course, but this man was intimidatingly attractive.

You had to pull your eyes away from the intense eye contact as the landlord kept talking. From your peripheral vision, you could see how a woman approached Leon and sat down next to him.

At first, you didn’t think too much of it. You thought but not too much. Until her laughter made its way to your ears. Her laugh was as if nails were scratching on the board of some classroom. You hated it. It drove you insane.

Her laughter could be heard- it was fake and forced, it had to be. No one laughed like that. She had to be flirting with Leon and it only made you feel rage and jealousy. God, you needed to calm down. Or maybe you needed to kill her. His expression wasn't different. He was simply just staring at her. How you wished that was you sitting on his cock as you memorized his face. As you counted the blackheads he had on his nose, as your eyes traced the wrinkles and acne scars. You wanted to memorize his entire being.

Kill her? The thought never appeared in your head but who were you to argue against your thoughts. You trusted yourself.

Once the landlord had stopped talking, you were the first one to dash out of the basement. Not without looking at how the woman basically threw herself him. Her breasts pressing against his chest. His face was unreadable, just coldly staring at her as she tried to seduce him. It made your blood boil. How dare she do that to your man? She needed to learn her lesson.

The next few days, you've been studying. Not because you had exams, no, you studied for other reasons. You studied the human anatomy as well as some chemistry.

One night, around 3AM, you came back from the library you were in. Just freshly studied, you had many ideas on how to kill her. A part of you, the good part, thought that this was immoral and terrible. But the other part told you that no one, absolutely no one, dares to flirt with your man. He's not even your man officially but he might as well be for all the times you masturbated in front of his pictures.

When you were on campus, you "borrowed" some tools. Of course, you were going to be nice and return them to the STEM building before they even charge you for overusing their supplies.

Being an obsessive and jealous psychopath, you're bound to be reckless and impulsive. But not this time. This time, you were going to be calculated. You had a plan orchestrated for her murder.

You made your way to the security room where the security cameras screened the halls of the apartment complex. As you lock picked the door, you entered quietly. Your footsteps softly thudding against the carpeted floor. The room had about 8 or 9 TV screens that showed different angles of the different floors. On one of them, you noticed Leon walking through the parking lot. He must've come back from work; he usually does at this time.

Hacking the security cameras weren't easy. You desperately wanted to just smash the entire setup, but you knew that would only make you more suspicious. You needed to control your temper. Plus, you wouldn't do that to your landlord. He's a cheap guy and would rather not pay from his pocket, he'd probably increase the rent to pay for the damages you could cause.

After some minutes, the screens all turned static, giving you the sign to proceed with your plan.

You stepped out of the room, closing the door on your way out. Leaving it exactly how you found it.

You climbed the stairs to where your floor was since she lived just a few doors away from you. She moved into the dead guy's apartment; you thought it was dumb. Why would you live in a place where someone just recently died? That's bad luck because now she was going to die because of you.

Once again, you lock picked the door to her apartment and looked around to make sure no one had seen you. You knew Leon just came back from work, so you needed to be quick as to not let him see you like this.

You entered her apartment swiftly and silently, closing the door behind you with a soft click. The apartment was dark and silent, except for the soft snores coming from just down the hall. Where her room was.

Your footsteps were soft and quiet as you made your way towards her. And there she was, sleeping peacefully on her stomach. All sprawled out on her bed as her hair covered her face.

Quietly making your way towards her bed, you kneeled down beside her and took out a small liquid bottle.

Potassium chloride (KCI), it read.

You didn't know a thing about chemicals and what they do, but to be honest, you didn't care. All you knew was that this stuff could be lethal. And that's exactly what you wanted.

Taking out a syringe from your pocket, you punctured the top of the bottle and pumped some of the liquid into the tube of the syringe, making sure it went past the middle line imprinted on the plastic container.

For once, you were glad to have access to the labs in the STEM building. The things you could do... but that was a thought for another time. Right now, you had a job to do.

Finding a vein on her neck was easier than you thought, based on the way she was sleeping, her neck tensed, and a vein was popping out of the side of her neck. The blue line traveling down her skin.

As you aligned the needle on her vein, you pushed without remorse. The needle penetrated her skin as you injected her with the dose of KCI. You watched in awe as the liquid entered her system. A dose enough it would cause cardiac arrest, instant death even.

You decided to leave her bed as she slowly succumbed to her death. You stuffed your materials back in your pockets as you stood up. What you failed to notice was the pair of footsteps nearing the bedroom. As you turned towards the door, you immediately noticed the figure lingering in the doorframe.

Leon.

Leon watched you kill that woman. He saw it all happen right before his eyes. But his expression was still cold and unreadable. He stepped towards you and stood in front of you, staring down at you.

'Hm," he spoke quietly, "well, this isn't something I was expecting," he muttered.

You didn't know what to say as you stared up at him. He knows what you just did but you don't feel regret.

After a short moment of silence, he spoke again, "I was going to kill her."

Your eyes widened at the confession; he was going to kill her?

"Why?" you asked quietly. The ends of his lips tugged into a faint smirk as he watched your expression, "Because she was annoying you."

You were stunned once again. He was going to kill her because he knew she had annoyed you? He really was the perfect man.

"Now," he stepped closer to you, leaning down until you could his breath on your face, "Why did you kill her?"

It would be embarrassing to tell him that the only reason why you killed the woman was because you were jealous.

As you nibbled on your bottom lip, you tried to come up with an excuse, "Like you said... she was annoying me."

Leon wasn't dumb, he knew you were lying. He brought his hands to brush away your hair away from your shoulders, "Don't lie to me," he muttered as he twirled a strand of hair in between his fingers.

"Fine," you muttered back, "I was... jealous." You felt embarrassment shot right up through your body as you told Leon the truth.

His smirk widened slightly as he let go of your hair, "You were jealous? Why? Because she was all up at me?"

You nodded, "Yeah... i didn't like how she tried to flirt with you."

He looked at you and then back at the woman laying on the bed, "I'm impressed."

That comment was sent straight to your core, wetting your panties. It was almost pathetic, how much power he had over you. If you weren't in this woman's room, you'd totally straddle him and ride his cock like how you rode the pillow.

As he turned to look back at you, he noticed your concentrated expression. His brow raised slightly at the sudden profound silence coming from you. But he didn't mind, you were still standing there in front of him and that was enough for Leon's shallow heart.

"Leave," he muttered as he looked at you. This caused you to pinch your brows together. Why would he want you to leave?

"Go back to your apartment, I'll clean the evidence for you."

Your mouth fell apart after he said that. He was willing on cleaning up your mess. But you were sure not to leave a trace behind... not really. You weren't wearing any gloves. You mentally slapped yourself for the small mistake.

"I'll meet you when I'm done," and with that he got to work. He walked around with disinfectant wipes and alcohol as he made sure to clean everything you had touched.

As he did that, you walked out of her apartment and went over to yours. A lot of thought scurried through your mind; thoughts like: why is he helping you?

A part of you felt guilty for killing someone but the other part of you didn’t. The id and the ego. A constant battle between what’s wrong and what’s right.

You did think she deserved it. But at the same time, you and Leon had sex. That must’ve mean something, right? Does he like you? Does he want to have sex again?

A part of being a psychopath that not many people know is that they are one of the most hypersexual people ever to exist. One single thought about him and it gets sent straight to your pussy. It’s not necessarily bad, you just have a lot of needs.

Part of you couldn’t wait for him to finish cleaning up and come to you. But a part of you also didn’t want him to see the amount of pictures you had of him on your wall.

As you walked to your apartment, you settled yourself in your bed, staring straight at the Leon wall.

What would he think of you if he saw this?

Would he be creeped out?

Insecurity ran through your body as you thought about it. Overthinking the possibilities of him reacting to just how obsessed you were with him.

You quickly got up and began to try and take off the photos of him on your wall.

However, just as you pulled a few of the hundred photos, you heard the noise of someone clearing their throat. Your head slowly turned towards the sound and your face fell pale.

It was Leon.

“Are those pictures of me?” He asked as he stepped towards your room. Standing closely next to you as he stared at the wall. His eyes scanned each and every one of the pictures. Almost as if he was impressed more than disrtubed.

But he didn't look disturbed. He had a small smirk on his lips that flipped your guts inside out. What exactly was he thinking?

"Yeah... they are," you murmured under your breath as you looked back at the pictures.

"You keep surprising me today," he muttered and turned his head to look at you with that stupid smirk. The smirk that made you feel so many things at once, "I never took you for... a stalker."

Your cheeks flushed red from embarrassment, and you quickly looked at him, "I-I well-" You didn't know what to say. What could you possibly say without looking even more demented.

"I like it," he whispered and stepped closer to you. His expression still remained distant but there was something in his eyes. A dangerous glint of possession.

You turned your body to look at him, staring up at his eyes. Something was starting to form in the air, and it was dangerous. As if gasoline was being poured into a barrel of fire.

Without notice, he harshly pulled you to him by putting a hand on the back of your head. His lips crashed into yours as his other hand snaked around your waist and he forcefully pulled you close to his body.

His kiss was dominating and harsh. As if he was hungry for you. Your hands gripped around his shirt. Your knees felt weak, and you started to grow dizzy from the lack of oxygen.

He was kissing you like no tomorrow. He bit your bottom lip hard, causing you to gasp. His tongue delved inside and wrapped around your tongue- dancing a battle of dominance that you lost long ago.

His hand went down from your waist to grip your ass cheek, giving it a tight and firm squeeze. He pulled back and pushed onto the bed.

"Strip," he demanded in a low voice. You quickly obliged and began to take off your clothes. His gaze was penetrating you, watching you like an eagle as you got naked under his command. It filled his veins with pure adrenaline, and he wanted nothing more than to claim you.

He saw that you were obsessed with him, and he was finally able to show you just how obsessed he was with you too.

He took off his clothes as well and climbed on top of you and began to kiss you again. His lips hungrily crashed into yours as his hands traveled around your body, squeezing the fat of your hips and squeezing the curve of your waist.

His lips trailed down to your neck, abusing the skin purple and red as you whimpered and moaned for him. His touch was electrifying, and you were going off on it. One of his hands trailed down to your wet cunt as he kept sucking your neck. He chuckled lowly as he felt how wet you'd become in just the matter of two minutes.

"Already so wet for me," he sucked the skin around your collarbone as his fingers faintly hovered over your cunt.

"I bet you imagined this moment, huh? Me fucking you in front of all these pictures you took of me," he grumbled as he inserted his index finger without warning, causing you to gasp and rolled your head back. Eye tightly shut as he curled his index finger in you.

He was going ruthless on you. He inserted another finger in you, scissoring you with speed as he watched your eyes roll back. Your walls pulsated around his fingers, and he could feel his cock getting hard against your thigh. He could feel you getting closer to your orgasm and that only drove him to reach deeper inside with his fingers until his knuckles were buried deep.

He smirked as he saw the way you arched your back and moaned for him. His obsession for you only grew as he heard the lewd noises come from your mouth. Your chest heaved up and down as you tried to not be too loud for your neighbors to send a noise complaint.

But he abruptly pulled his fingers out of you, denying you of your release. You whined and looked at him through half-lidded eyes, "Why... why did you stop?" you breathed out. And all he did was chuckle lowly at your reaction.

He was cruel but he loved it. He loved driving you close to the edge and then pull you back into reality.

“Turn over,” was all that he said. You got on your stomach and he gripped his hands around your hips and lifted your ass a little higher.

His hands went around your ass and back before giving you a slap on your ass cheek, causing you yelp. It stung but it felt good.

One of his hands left your hips as he pumped his cock with his precum and aligned himself with your entrance.

He buried his cock deep into your cunt, gripping your waist as he pulled you closer to him, forcing you to take his size. You whimpered as you shut your eyes tightly. He slowly began to move his hips against you from behind, trying to find a rhythm that would be pleasurable for the two of you.

Your face was planted flat on a pillow as he fucked you. Your mouth was open, muffled moans echoing through the room. The sound of his balls smacking against your clit making this look and sound so pornographic.

He could feel your walls tighten every time his balls clashed your clit, “You’re so fucking tight,” he grunted. You couldn’t reply, too preoccupied getting your brains fucked out by him.

His speed only increased as he became selfish and obsessive. He wanted to claim you, to make you his. It was psychotic but he needed it. He desperately needed you in his life, even if he’s fucked up in the head.

But you’re also a bit screwed up. What type of person stalks a man and kills for him? You, apparently.

You both have killed for each other. You both were obsessed with each other. One wouldn’t know if it was concerning or cute. Either way, you loved him and he loved you.

“I’m gonna breed you,” he grunted again as he pulled out and pushed back in brutally. His strength like no other, his muscles flexing and tensing.

His dirty words didn’t help either, they were driving you closer and closer to your orgasm. Your pussy clenched so tightly against his cock, wanting to milk him of his seed and force you to bear his children.

“Gonna fill you up- fuck- and make you mine,” he moaned softly in your ear as his hand left your waist and went down to your clit. Circling it and pinching it in between his fingers.

You mewled and moaned, drool dripping down from your mouth as you saw stars. He made you feel so good and you only wanted more.

His cock disappeared into your cunt with every thrust and he ogled at the sight. He loved the way you took him, he loved the way you looked so fucked out of your mind all because of him.

He made you feel this way. And he wanted more.

“You’re staying with me,” he groaned into your ear, “You’ll be mine whether you like it or not- fuck I’m gonna cum,” he grunted and kept thrusting into you. He kept pounding into you.

Every time he thrusted into you, he saw the way your ass jiggled and it only made his cock twitch and throb inside you. He shot his cum deep inside you but he didn’t stop.

He continued to toy with your clit as he kept pounding his half hard cock- which soon got hard again from seeing your face and hearing the way you moaned when he came inside you.

“Leon,” you moaned out lewdly as you neared your orgasm. It surprised you he came first but you didn’t complain, it only drove you closer to cumming.

“Cum for me,” he demanded in a growl. Your pussy spasmed around his cock and you came on his cock.

You arched your back as you came, feeling his deeper into your cunt as he continued to fuck you through your high.

And. He. Didn’t. Stop.

He wanted to cum in you again, he promised he’d fill you up and he never breaks his promises.

“Gonna cum again, sweetheart,” he moaned into your ear as his hand left your clit and went back to your waist.

“This pussy’s mine,” he grunted as he gripped your waist and pulled you on his cock, watching as your mouth hanged open, spilling moans and whimpers from overstimulation.

“You’re fucking mine, sweetheart,” he grunted one last time before ramming his hips into you and cumming inside you once more. His warm cum overfilling your cunt, cum oozing out as new cum entered your body.

He remained inside you as you both caught your breath. He couldn’t believe he’d cum twice but then again, you really did keep surprising him today.

And that’s what he liked about you. You were so unexpected and that only drove him crazy for you.

And you were crazy for him too.

[spngi]

My tears ricochet | mafia!carlos sainz jr x reader

Prologue | part 1 | part 2 | Part 3| Part 4 |part 5

Part 6

summary: Mr. and Mrs. Sainz lived in a dream for many years, now everything is falling apart and they need to deal with their feelings

warnings:Grammar mistakes, mentions of violence, Carlos is an idiot, mentions of cheating, sexual content, angst.

Carlos stared at the ceiling in deep regret, the uncomfortable bed in the guest room killed him and just remembered how much he deserved it.

The three points scratching on his forehead reminded him of the fury he caused his wife, reminded him of how stupid he had been.

The truth is that he went to the hospital, he went and Martina was not there because it was just a desperate call from the mistress wanting him to come back to her. So the only real thing he had to do in that place was to allow them to close the wound on his forehead.

He knew he didn't deserve forgiveness and yet the look you threw at him when you saw him get home almost killed him.

He saw her begging for him for a long time, he had fun refusing you, realizing how much you longed to be close to him and still taking these opportunities from you as punishment.

Punishing you for ruining everything, everything he had planned in his sick head.

Carlos snorts, he was a sucker, he couldn't stand the bar when he saw you grow when he saw you become as big and strong as him and was punishing you. Because he thought you could be eternally the innocent and docile wife who vomited when she saw blood.

He really doesn't remember how fast everything ended up becoming, he waited forever for the apology coming from his wife. But today he didn't know exactly why what kind of excuses he wanted to hear. You had become an amazing woman, more than when he met you, and he would be blind if he couldn't see how much any other boss would like to have someone like you if not you as a partner.

Carlos knew that his wife had begged for his attention for too long, something deep inside him knew that when you begged him to love you again it would be the last time you would be willing to do this. And now it was his turn to humiliate himself.

Not that he considered it a humiliation to fight for you, he loved you after all. His crooked and insane way but he loved it.

That's why he had stuck in that situation, because while he was too busy hating the new qualities of his wife, it was too easy to fall in love with the same qualities you had in someone else, in projecting the old innocent version of your wife on any woman. He could throw himself out of that window at any moment of so much frustration with himself.

He could listen to the music coming through the next room, the old room you shared, it was playing a melody of Ibrahim ferrer and reminded him of so many times that he danced with you and smoked cigars while listening to the Cuban.

At that moment he felt like in that movie mamma mia that you had made him watch a thousand times, he could very well sing one of us, because he now understood the feeling of the music.

He hears the noise of the heels on the floor and gets up, he couldn't be stuck all day lamenting his own idiocy, not when you seemed to be leaving.

Carlos watches you down the hallway, green hunter dress drawing her body, her naked back in sight because of the stuck hair, he feels the smell of the perfume leaving the trail down the hallway and the jimmy choo heels hitting the floor.

Carlos loved when his wife wore green, he loved how the color stook out on her skin and how she looked simply like a goddess in this damn land. What about the perfume? He always loved the smell of his wife but the mixture she used to go out drove him crazy and he could have a heart attack in that hallway right now.

"Where are you going?" He asks annoyed that he was not considered in her plans.

"To a philanthropy event" y/n responds and turns to it, the front view is even more killer and Carlos would like to be good as you painting to be able to keep this scene.

"And why didn't you invite me?" He asks upset, you stare at him coldly as if you really don't need to answer which of the reasons for not inviting him.

"You've always hated these events," she finally replies, shrugging.

Carlos doesn't know what to answer, because it was true he really always hated going to gala events, and always complained about going to them, although he always came home to have you providing the best sex to thank him.

The beautiful woman in front of him does not expect an answer, it just follows as if the presence of Carlos was insignificant and he feels even more useless for not having received his invitation.

He waits in the living room anxiously, a glass of drink in his hand, two, three or who is counting? The night keeps going by and his wife never arrives, he wonders how many times you've been in his place lately, waiting for him at home while he was being stupid enough to be with another. He remembers the time he caught her sleeping in his office, nestled uncomfortably in the chair only in extremely light and delicate pink lingerie on her skin, he didn't wake her up that day, just letting you wake up of your own free will the other day with a horrible stiff neck.

He definitely deserved all the vases you could throw at him.

When you arrive, Carlos can no longer stare at the Watch or understand what time it is, he just faces you coming in laughing next to the boy Norris and wonders what he told you for you to laugh so much. Carlos could make you laugh, he loved being the reason for your laughter.

"Are you drunk?" The sainz is taken out of his astonishment when he hears her beautiful voice.

"A little" he cokes his eyes, tries to keep his posture firm in the armchair but it is useless.

He feels like a child out of the conversation while he sees you talking to Norris, you dismiss him and go back to Carlos.

"Let's go up" Carlos loves when you use the bostly tone with him, he smiles loosely with his words.

"Can I sleep in our room?"

"No, Carlos" your refusal hurts him, even when you lift him up and help him follow the steps to the stairs affectionately. Trying to balance him by your side even in heels.

"I love you so much, I'm a complete idiot, I love you, yn" sainz starts talking, the truth was that drunk carlos had a loose mouth and said everything that came to mind.

"I was wrong, I should never have doubted you, I hurt you so much and you could hit me as much as you wanted if it worked to forgive me"

"Carlos I don't want to talk to you now" y/n answers, finally opening the door of the couple's room.

His heart melts with the way you still take care of him, put him to bed and help him take off his shirt and jeans, he keeps talking incessantly about how much he feels and regrets it although you don't seem to listen much.

"You look so beautiful in green, you should wear more green, I love how beautiful you look in green" he keeps talking and you cover him with the blankets.

"You should sleep, Carlos" he is interrupted by her voice, he stops pondering and just lets himself admire her beauty, you were the most beautiful woman who inhabited this land and he was stupid enough to throw everything with you in the trash.

"I love you, cariño," he murmurs.

He doesn't listen if you answer him or when you gently kiss his forehead, too far already giving himself to sleep.

You don't sleep with him in the room that night, exchanging the guest room with him.

One more part with a carlos pov! I hope you guys are enjoying it!

Leave your comments and opinions ❤️❤️❤️

[its-avalon-08]

y/n neglecting danny boy, shes being a bitch abt it because of work. angst, happy ending

THANKS!

a inconvenience in your world (dr3)

✦ pairing - daniel ricciardo x female!reader

✦ genre - alot of angst, tears, neglect, happy ending

The faint scent of burnt toast hung in the air, a stark contrast to the usual aroma of freshly brewed coffee that greeted Daniel most mornings. He shuffled into the kitchen, his back already protesting the sudden movement. The Baku crash still lingered, a dull ache settling in his lower back every time he spent too long sitting or inactive.

Y/N was hunched over her laptop, brow furrowed in concentration. She glanced up at him briefly, a tired smile flickering across her face.

"Morning," she mumbled, her voice strained. "Big day?"

Daniel forced a smile, the gesture feeling stiff. "Usual training. You sure you can't make it for breakfast again?"

Y/N sighed, a flicker of frustration crossing her features. "Look, babe, I know we rescheduled last night, but this project is a monster. Maybe next week?"

Disappointment gnawed at him, but he pushed it down. "Yeah, sure. Text me when you're done, okay? We can grab dinner."

Y/N nodded absently, her eyes already glued back to the screen. "Sounds good."

two weeks later

Daniel scrolled through his phone, a growing sense of unease settling in his gut. Y/N's last text, a hurried apology for missing their planned movie night, had been three days ago. Calls went straight to voicemail, texts remained unanswered. He knew she was busy, but the complete lack of communication gnawed at him.

He finally caught her on a Wednesday evening, her voice breathless and clipped.

"Hey, Y/N, finally—"

"Daniel, I'm in the middle of something super important. Can we talk later?"

"But—"

The line went dead. He stared at the phone, a hollow feeling blooming in his chest. He tried texting again, a simple "thinking of you," but it remained stubbornly on "delivered" just like the others.

friday night

Exhaustion weighed on Daniel as he returned from training. He longed for a home-cooked meal, some quiet time with Y/N. But the apartment was empty, the silence broken only by the hum of the refrigerator. He reheated a leftover curry, the taste bland on his tongue. The once vibrant apartment felt cold and sterile, mirroring the distance growing between him and Y/N.

He sank onto the couch, picking up his phone. Y/N's social media profiles were a whirlwind of work updates and inspirational quotes, a curated life devoid of any mention of him. A sharp pang of jealousy stabbed at him, quickly followed by a wave of sadness. Where had the goofy selfies and mushy captions gone? Where had his sunshine smile gone?

a few days later

The slam of the front door echoed through the apartment, a punctuation mark to a fight Y/N didn't see coming. It had started innocently enough, the clatter of a plate hitting the counter as Daniel placed it in the drying rack.

"Seriously, Daniel?" Y/N snapped, her eyes glued to her laptop screen. "Couldn't you just leave it in the sink? I'm swamped here."

Daniel froze, the plate suspended mid-air. A deep frown creased his forehead, a stark contrast to the grimace he'd been trying to hide for the past hour. His lower back had been throbbing ever since his training session that morning, but adrenaline and the hope of spending some quality time with Y/N had kept him going. Now, both the pain and his hope were fading fast.

"Y/N," he started, his voice strained, "it would have taken two seconds to put it away."

"Ugh, not this again," she sighed, finally tearing her gaze away from the screen. "Look, I appreciate you making dinner, but I'm on a deadline. Can we talk about this later?"

Daniel stared at her, his jaw clenched. "Later? That seems to be our new thing, doesn't it? Later for dinner, later for that movie you promised, later for even a simple conversation."

Y/N bristled. "Don't make this about you. I have a very demanding job right now."

"Demanding?" Daniel scoffed, his voice laced with hurt. "Who just spent the last two weeks glued to that laptop, cancelling every date night, blowing off my calls mid-conversation because of some 'urgent' email?"

Y/N opened her mouth to retort, then stopped. The accusation hung heavy in the air, a truth she couldn't deny. Shame burned in her gut, hot and unwelcome.

"Look," she started placatingly, "I know I've been distant, but this project is huge. Once it's over—"

"Once it's over?" Daniel cut her off, his voice tight with a mix of anger and pain. "What about me, Y/N? When was the last time you even asked how my back was after that crash in Baku?"

Y/N flinched. A vague memory of a news report about the crash flickered in her mind, but the details were hazy, lost in the sea of emails and reports flooding her inbox.

"I, uh…" she stammered, guilt twisting in her stomach. "You said you were fine."

A humorless laugh escaped Daniel's lips. "Right, because superheroes don't feel pain, do they?" He slammed the plate down on the counter, the clatter echoing in the tense silence. Tears welled up in his eyes, blurring his vision.

"I do everything for you, Y/N," he choked out, his voice thick with emotion. "Cook your meals, clean the apartment, manage your schedule – all while training and racing across the globe. But apparently, that's not enough. Because apparently, I'm just a fucking inconvenience to fit in between your precious deadlines."

Tears streamed down Y/N's face, a dam finally breaking. The words hit her like a physical blow, the truth stinging worse than any deadline.

"Daniel, I—" she started, but he cut her off with a shake of his head.

"Just save it," he said, his voice raw. "I need some air."

He stormed out of the apartment, leaving Y/N alone in the deafening silence. The echo of his words hung in the air, a stark reminder of the love she'd been neglecting, the connection she'd taken for granted. The laptop screen glowed accusingly, its light failing to penetrate the suffocating darkness that had settled around her.

The deafening silence that followed Daniel's departure pressed in on Y/N, heavy and suffocating. The laptop screen remained a dull beacon, its light failing to pierce the shame that gnawed at her. She numbly pushed herself to her feet, drawn to the kitchen counter where the forgotten plate stood.

Her gaze drifted around the room, finally seeing for the first time in weeks. The dishes were gleaming, not a single one left in the sink. The fridge hummed contentedly, stocked with fresh groceries. Panic clawed at her throat. This wasn't takeout night. This was Daniel, anticipating her needs, taking care of them without a single complaint.

She stumbled through the apartment, every corner revealing another silent testament to his love. Folded laundry sat neatly on the couch, a stark contrast to the usual clutter. Her work papers, once scattered across the dining table, were now organized into neat stacks on her desk, a laptop charger coiled beside them - fully charged, a silent reassurance.

Tears welled up in her eyes, blurring her vision. How could she have been so blind? He'd become an invisible pillar, supporting her life while his own needs went unnoticed. Grabbing her phone, she dialed his number, her heart pounding in her chest. But there was no answer, only the cold, impersonal voice of voicemail.

Panic twisted into a knot in her stomach. She couldn't wait. She threw on a jacket, her phone clutched in her hand as she sprinted out the door. His favourite park, their usual coffee shop, all flashed through her mind, rejected one after another. Where would he go?

Suddenly, a memory surfaced. A conversation weeks ago, about a quiet spot by the river he'd discovered during training. With renewed hope, she hailed a cab, directing the driver to the location.

It was a small clearing, a patch of green tucked away from the city's bustle. As she approached, a choked sob escaped her lips. Daniel sat on a weathered bench, head buried in his hands, his broad shoulders slumped. Even from a distance, she could see the tremor that ran through him.

The river shimmered in the fading light, casting a golden sheen on the tears that streamed down Y/N's face. Daniel sat beside her, a tense silence stretching between them, broken only by the gentle gurgling of the water. Finally, Y/N broke the quiet, her voice thick with emotion.

"Daniel, I..." she started, her voice catching. "I don't even know where to begin."

He looked at her, his expression unreadable. The vibrant blue of his eyes, usually sparkling with mischief, was clouded with hurt.

"You could start with an apology," he said, his voice low and controlled.

Y/N flinched. "I am apologizing, Daniel. From the bottom of my heart. I was so caught up in work, in this damn deadline, that I completely lost sight of everything else. I neglected you, ignored your needs, and for that, I am truly sorry."

A bitter laugh escaped Daniel's lips. "Sorry doesn't quite cut it, Y/N. You weren't just a little busy. You were completely absent. Remember all those cancelled dinners? The calls I practically had to beg you to answer? The constant feeling that I was just an inconvenience in your schedule?"

Y/N's head hung low, the weight of his words crushing her. "I know," she whispered. "I have no excuse. I just… work became this monster, this all-consuming thing that stole everything from me, including my ability to see what was right in front of me."

"And what exactly was in front of you, Y/N?" he asked, his voice laced with a barely suppressed anger. "Because all I saw was a woman who didn't have a single moment to spare for the man who loves her."

Shame burned in Y/N's gut. "No, that's not true. You… you're the most important person in my life. You're my best friend, my confidante, the person I want to share everything with. But I let work come between us, creating a wall I didn't even realize I was building."

Daniel remained silent, his gaze unwavering. Y/N reached for his hand, but he pulled away, a flicker of pain crossing his face.

"You know," he began, his voice tight, "the worst part wasn't the missed dates or the cancelled plans. It was seeing you come home exhausted, glued to that laptop, barely acknowledging my presence. It made me feel invisible, like I didn't matter."

Y/N's heart ached. The image of him, sitting alone at the dinner table she never made it to, fueled the fire of shame within her.

"I see that now," she choked out. "And the truth is? You do matter, Daniel. More than anything. You're my rock, my anchor, the sunshine that makes my world brighter. I was just… so foolish to take it all for granted."

"Love shouldn't be taken for granted, Y/N," he said, his voice softening slightly. "It needs nurturing, attention. It needs to be a two-way street."

Y/N nodded, tears pooling in her eyes. "I understand that now. And I'm willing to put in the work, Daniel. To make things right. To show you just how much you mean to me."

He looked at her, a flicker of hope fighting its way through the pain in his eyes. "Actions speak louder than words, Y/N. Can you prove it?"

"Yes," she said, her voice firm with conviction. "I'll prove it every single day. I'll set boundaries with work, prioritize our time together, and be the partner you deserve. I won't let my career overshadow our love."

Daniel sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly. "It won't be easy, Y/N. Trust takes time to rebuild."

"I know," she agreed. "But I'm willing to put in the time, as long as you are."

Silence fell again, but this time, it was different. It wasn't a tense gap, but a space for contemplation, for a shared breath.

Finally, Daniel reached for her hand, his touch gentle but firm. "I… I want this to work, Y/N. But I need you to understand, if this happens again, if work takes over once more, then I can't keep going down this same path."

Y/N squeezed his hand tightly. "I understand. It won't happen again. I promise."

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the river, a fragile hope blossomed between them. The road ahead wouldn't be easy, but with open communication, a commitment to change, and the unwavering flame of love.

The last rays of the sun painted the river a fiery orange, mirroring the burning intensity in Daniel's eyes. Y/N held her breath, waiting for his answer, the weight of her apology heavy in the air.

Then, with a sigh that seemed to carry the burden of weeks, Daniel reached out. Not for her hand, but for her. He pulled her close, engulfing her in a hug that spoke volumes more than any words could.

His arms wrapped around her tightly, his hold a mixture of relief and lingering hurt. Y/N buried her face in his chest, the familiar scent of his cologne and the warmth of his body a sudden comfort.

"Just… don't do it again, alright?" he murmured, his voice rough with emotion. "Work will always be there, but you… you're irreplaceable."

Y/N nodded, tears soaking into his shirt. "Never again, Daniel. I promise."

He loosened his grip slightly, tilting her head back to look at him. His eyes, the color of a summer sky after a storm, were still troubled, but a flicker of forgiveness danced within them.

"You scared me, Y/N," he confessed, his thumb gently wiping away a stray tear. "The thought of losing you… it was unbearable."

A choked sob escaped her lips. "I love you, Daniel. More than words can say. Don't you ever doubt that."

He cupped her face in his hands, his touch sending shivers down her spine. "I know you do," he whispered, his voice husky. "And that's why this matters so much. Because I love you too, Y/N. More than racing, more than anything in this world."

He leaned in then, his lips brushing hers in a tender kiss. It was a kiss filled with forgiveness, with a renewed promise, and most importantly, with a love that had weathered the storm and emerged stronger.

As they pulled apart, foreheads resting together, a gentle breeze ruffled their hair. The setting sun cast an orange glow on their intertwined figures, a symbol of a new beginning, a love story rekindled with the promise of a brighter tomorrow.