#I just have enough energies to rot in bed and get up once in a while to take a sip of water

[misskamelie]

Let's play a fun game of "is it my lack of (good quality) sleep? Is it pms? Is it stress? Am I hungry? Is it just some sort of actual light form of depression?"

[storiesofsvu]

Decadent Desires Ch 16

Emily Prentiss x fem!reader warnings: language, alcohol, smut, oral, life chats about shitty childhood experiences. nothing too bad.

For a little insight to the resort, check out these vids: https://vm.tiktok.com/ZMrqQUKe3/ (for the sake of the story we ARE pretending that this is an all inclusive & food/drinks aren’t an extra cost!)

Emily spent the next couple of days flipping through brochures and scrolling through various locations the Waldorf had but nothing pulled her attention like the one in the Maldives did. Each time she had a spare second to let her brain drift from the task at hand she found herself daydreaming of white sand beaches, stunning turquoise water and the luxury of experiencing all from your own private villa. She needed to go, whether alone, with a friend or with you she honestly didn’t even really care at this point.

So she began to plant the seeds, slowly, spreading them out over time and making sure to nurture them, casually having them drop into conversation. She knew she couldn’t just spring and entire vacation on you, there were multiple things to think of, arrange and take care of before any of that could happen.

First it was a casual conversation the following week, asking about the info drop at Heather’s house, if you really didn’t celebrate Christmas or if she was just teasing, that you had some fun traditions with friends for that time of year. When you said you didn’t, your tradition was usually solo pizza and sweatpants, she could successfully check off the first box on her list.

Second, she lucked out, a mutual friend posting a beachside selfie to their Instagram story that she was able to send to you, her caption reading ‘must be nice’. A few seconds later your reply came through, ‘god, there are few things I wouldn’t do to be oceanside in the sun right now.’

Third, you were out for dinner together at what was a pretty trendy and touristy spot in town and when you server greeted you they asked if you were on vacation. You both laughed it off and after they left you let out a soft groan, muttering about how you hadn’t been on a vacation since the last election. Emily half teasing, asked if you even got vacation time with a job like yours and you chuckled, explaining that Heather was nice enough that if someone from her team didn’t use their vacation time for one calendar year it would carry over to the next, you had about four months racked up, sitting there getting dusty and practically begging to be used.

The fourth and final nod for her to bite the bullet was when she was leaving the Waldorf one morning, the concierge calling out to her, waving her over with a warm smile. They asked if she’d done any thinking about the Maldives, saying that reservations were filling up pretty quickly and they didn’t want her to miss out on the opportunity. They went as far to say that they’d put a thirty six hour hold on a villa for her and that she should definitely think about it, it was a once in a lifetime experience after all. It only took a minute as she chewed on her lip, thinking about her own piled up vacation time and how happy Bailey would be to have her out of his hair for at least a week and she was pulling out her card.

It originally hadn’t meant to be a surprise, she had been planning on actually bringing it up to you, seeing if you were interested and had the actual and emotional time and energy for something like this. There was technically still a chance all you wanted to do over the break was rot in your bed eating takeout and not see a single human at all. Which is why she spent more time fidgeting around with dates than even making the decision to go in the first place, making sure you should have time on both sides of the trip to do whatever it was you’d want to not celebrate the season. She reminded herself that this was nothing out of the ordinary, this wasn’t some huge, luxurious, grand gesture or anything, sugar babies were very regularly taken on vacations like this.

So what if it just so happened that The Maldives were a little fancier than Florida?

**

Your coat was already on, unbuttoned and loosely opened in the front, bag dangling from your elbow as you stopped in the doorway to Heather’s office.

“You wanted to see me before I left?” You asked, lingering just a few steps into the room, “and please don’t let this drag on too long, I’ve still got to go find a couple of new dresses before dinner.”

Heather glanced up from her laptop, “oh, I just wanted to let you know your vacation request was approved, glad to see you’re finally using up some of that time.”

Your head tilted, nose scrunching slightly as you stepped further into the room, “are you sure you’ve got the right person? Amelia and I do have incredibly similar work emails…I only put in for three days.”

She turned back to her laptop, clicking through a few things before looking back up at you, “definitely not Amelia.” She shrugged, “you’re getting paid for the time off, you may as well take advantage of it.”

“I—” Before you could fully formulate a response, there was a clatter of noise behind you and you turned just in time to see Tony catching himself on the doorframe, nearly tripping over his own feet as he entered the office.

“Oh good, I managed to catch you before you left, McGee just would not shut up—”

“What the hell are you doing here?” You asked, glancing between him and Heather, the grin slowly beginning to curl her lips up.

Tony shrugged, nodding toward your boss, “she told me to show up at three, pick up her black card and take you shopping for some summer clothes and the sluttiest bikinis we could find.”

“Bikinis?” You raised a brow, turning back to Heather who simply smirked, handing Tony her card and waving the two of you off.

“Well, get going. Would hate for you to be late for dinner with Emily.”

“Emily…” Tony taunted, “ooooooo… now we’ve got a naaaaammee.” He began to prod at your side, jabbing at your ribs before you punched him in the stomach.

“You stop talking right now and maybe I’ll even model some of the bikinis for you.”

He immediately froze, mimicking zipping his mouth shut and throwing away the key as his eyes sparkled and you rolled your own with a scoff before dragging him out of the office.

**

Obviously, Emily had absolutely no reason to be worried about you being shocked or turning down the accidental surprise. But if she had any lingering hesitancies, they were certainly blown away the second the jet touched down and you were escorted to your own private yacht to journey across the ocean to the island resort.

Greeted with fresh warm hand towels and given a mini tour of the boat you were offered a variety of drinks, choosing coffee first to wake up from the plane ride followed by a champagne toast to kick off the start of your vacation. The journey to the island was only similar to a ferry in that it was a boat over water, you were given free reign of the vessel and even offered the opportunity to drive through the calm waters. With the sun basking down on you, most of the time was spent on the roof of the boat, picking through a handful of tapas and getting endless refills of champagne, the true sense of relaxation soothing deep through both of your bodies.

Resort staff greeted you at the island, whisking your bags away for easy transport while you were offered fresh watermelon juice to check in with, making sure that all of your accommodations were set up properly. A brief tour of the main lodge was given, a few of the dining and gift options shown off before you were escorted to a golf cart for a tour of the full private island and all of the amenities you had to take advantage of over the next week and a half. Emily’s hand naturally fell to your thigh while you rode, her thumb stroking at your skin and you couldn’t help but pick up her hand in yours.

Arriving at your overwater villa you almost instantly wanted to scold Emily for how much she must have spent on the place, but between the staff making sure you had no more questions and your distraction by the luxury resort, your thoughts were quickly washed away. The first door opened to the large outdoor space, bicycles for getting around the island on your own, a large cushy porch swing and cozy seating area that was covered, looking out into the ocean. Beyond that was the sun soaked piece of the porch, multiple loungers looking directly into the water, nets sitting directly over the ocean to relax in and if that wasn’t enough, your own large private pool and a hanging daybed on the other end of the area to tie it all together.

Through another door and you entered the inside of the villa, floor to ceiling windows that could slide open to let the fresh salt air breeze around you no matter what time of day. A king sized bed that you just knew was going to be the comfiest thing you’d ever sleep in facing the windows for ample sunset views, large television on an angle from the bed for those late night movie binges and of course long black out curtains for those mornings you just wanted to sleep in. The bedroom had its own mini bar and coffee station, a complimentary bottle of wine and basket of fruit and treats left out for the two of you to enjoy. The small hallway leading to the bathroom had a glass floor to see straight through to the crystal waters. The bathroom itself was huge, two glass walled standing showers and a tub that would easily fit both of you facing yet another wall of sliding doors.

“Emily…” you breathed out, turning back to face her, “this is insane.”

“First vacation in four years? I like to think it has to be pretty memorable.”

“No kidding.” You replied, eyes still scanning around the villa as you leant in, pressing a soft kiss to her cheek. “I don’t even know where to start…” You couldn’t help yourself turning on your toes trying to soak it all in.

She chuckled softly, leaning in and kissing the back of your neck, “well… I heard you might have a couple of new suits… you could start with one of those.”

“I do suppose working on my tan would be a good first choice.” You glanced over your shoulder at her, a gleam in your eye as you practically skipped back to the bedroom to change, eager to take advantage of the warmth and sun.

*

You’d been sprawled across one of the outdoor loungers enjoying the sun while finally getting a chance to start on one of the many books in your to read pile for the majority of the morning. An empty cup of iced coffee on the table beside you along with a plate of very succulent and incredibly fresh fruit you were still occasionally picking at. Your finger slid through a page, realizing you’d come to the end of your current chapter and your head rolled back toward the villa, Emily had been napping when you first came out but she wasn’t in the bed any longer.

Curiosity (and the desire for a coffee refill) got the best of you, letting out a content sigh as you stood from the lounger, padding back up the deck to the villa. Emily had pulled a cover up over her swim suit, sat at one of the chairs with her laptop in front of her. You clicked your tongue, but she didn’t seem to notice you returning inside as you walked up behind her, your arm reaching over her shoulder to gently shut the laptop.

“Emily…” you warned, your lips brushing at the side of her neck, “now is not the time.”

“Just one—” She was cut off from even unlocking her phone as you plucked it from her hand, nipping at her neck.

“You pick up your work phone one more time and I’m throwing it into the ocean.” You murmured into her ear, your hand sliding up the back of her neck, threading through her hair as you moved it off to one side. “I didn’t even bring my work phone. C’mon.”

With a slight sigh, she pushed back from the desk, standing up to face you, her first thought that you were going to drag her into the ocean. Instead she was met with your hands toying with the knot of her cover up, gently nudging her further inside the villa.

“You left the BAU in JJ’s very capable hands, if there’s some sort of freak emergency, they can call your personal cell.” You got the robe undone, letting it drape over her shoulders, “you deserve this vacation as much as I do, if not even more. So relax,” the back of her knees hit the bed, her tongue darting out to wet her lips as she noticed the way your eyes were darkening. “You need it, and I’m gonna do everything I can to make sure you come back from here as refreshed as possible.”

“Sounds like a pretty good offer.” She teased and you laughed.

“It’s a guarantee.”

With a gentle nudge from you, Emily fell back onto the bed, shifting until she was comfortable laying against the lush pillows and you dropped over her. Your mouth returned to her neck, pressing sticky kisses into it as your hands began to roam. She could feel the warmth wafting off your sun soaked skin, the slightest hint of coconut from your sunscreen and you had completely invaded her senses. Any singular thought about work gone, every worry melting away a little bit more each time your lips brushed over her body.

Emily let out a soft moan as you trailed down her collarbone, fingers shifting the fabric of her suit to the side to suck a nipple into your mouth, bringing it to a peak before repeating the action on the other side. You kissed, licked and sucked your way across her stomach and down her body until you were settled in between her legs, fingers slipping into the bottoms of her swim suit, sliding it to the side to give you full access to her pussy. Her breath caught in her throat as you blew cool air onto it, fingertips brushing feather light over her slit before pressing into her clit and her eyes fell shut.

“Fuck…”

“You like that?” You murmured, fingers running through her folds again, this time pressing a little harder, dipping into her wetness before swirling around her clit and she let out a low moan.

Rather than wait for a response you leant forward, tongue swiping through her folds, flicking at her clit and your lips curved into a grin at the sound that came from between her lips. Your mouth eagerly wrapped around her, tongue dipping into her cunt, groaning over the sweet taste of her juices. Emily’s hands quickly found their way into your hair, tugging at the up do while trying not to grind herself onto your face.

She could feel the pleasure flying through her already, little sparks shooting off every time your tongue brushed through her, her pussy getting wetter and wetter as her breath started to pick up. In any other situation she felt like she’d be a little embarrassed about how quickly she was turned on and by how much. How the simple movements of your mouth against her cunt had her practically whimpering already, her lower lip trapped between her teeth. However there was something so incredibly different about this, the wide open doors, the entire ocean ten feet from the bed almost feeling like the two of you were exposed to the world when you were actually in your own little bubble. Rather than the sounds of the city, honking cars, people yelling, constant traffic all she could hear was the gentle waves of the ocean, the occasional bird and of course you groaning into her pussy. The entire thing was wildly erotic yet intimate and somehow the most relaxing thing in the world.

As if you could sense the little bit that was Emily still holding back you reluctantly pulled your mouth off of her, your thumb replacing it, pressing through her folds and rubbing at her clit.

“Don’t hold back, there’s no need to keep quiet.” You murmured, nipping gently at her inner thigh and her lip burst free, a gasp coming from the back of her throat.

“Shit!” She felt her hips buck up off the mattress as your mouth returned between her legs, this time wrapping around her clit. “Oh god that’s good.” She couldn’t help but let out a whine, “more, please!”

Your tongue flicked varying patterns across her swollen clit and your hand snuck up between her legs, two fingers easily slipping into her dripping cunt. Her thighs twitched around you, a low swear leaving her lips as her eyes scrunched tighter shut and the fingers in your hair tightened. You wasted no time, crooking your fingers with each thrust until she cried out.

“Fuck! Right there!”

A smirk took over your lips and you increased the pressure on her clit, feeling it throbbing between your lips as her pussy fluttered around your fingers. You picked up the pace, matching the timing that her hips would jump up off the bed, small cries escaping her lips as your fingers continued to brush the sensitive spot over and over again. Each time she felt you pressing just a little bit harder, lingering just a little bit longer and before she knew it her body was shaking, your hands pinning her thighs to the bed as you fucked her through her orgasm.

“Christ.” She muttered, running a hand over her face and you laughed softly.

“Feeling more relaxed?”

“Yeah.”

“Hmm…” you grinned wickedly up at her from between her legs, your fingers beginning to smear around her juices, “your words are still pretty coherent, I think I better give it another go.”

She couldn’t even open her mouth to protest before you were back on her and she let out a low moan, head dropping back into the pillows. Every single thought left her, the only thing remaining was the feeling of your mouth, warm and wet on her pussy and the soothing sounds of the ocean as you brought her to her peak another four times.

**

Neither of you had even realized just how much you both needed the break, away from your time consuming and draining careers, to be so far from society out on your own little slice of heaven over the water. Waking up with the sun daring to peak through the curtains, the sounds and smell of the ocean drifting through the villa was one thing, but getting to truly enjoy it, lounging tangled in the sheets while coffee brewed and breakfast was delivered, half the time drowsing off again until you were truly rested, was a whole different story.

Between enjoying the privacy of your villa, warm ocean water and exploring the resort you definitely got your share of vacation. Dinner down at an extensive beach BBQ, the buffet so long you couldn’t possibly fit everything you wanted on even two plates, surrounded by people having a good time, live music and a DJ to keep everyone entertained. There were movie nights under the stars, a variety of genres to keep everyone happy, the earlier the movie the more PG, the darker the sky got, the more fun was had.

You were allowed to completely relax and be yourselves, there was no worry of having to uphold an image, no one cared about who you were or your reputation. Between that and the privacy of the resort, you were free to do whatever you want, and that included public displays of affection. There were no potential spying eyes of FBI management or staff of other government officials who were always looking for dirt. You were free to be you and more importantly, be together. Emily’s hand playing with yours over the table top, tracing the lines of your palm with her fingertip, your arm interlocking with hers as you walked down the beach, her hand on the small of your back to direct you out of the way of foot traffic. The freedom brought a whole new level of peace to an already incredible vacation.

Back at the villa one night after a few rounds of trivia accompanied by fruity cocktails, the hotel staff had made a nightly round to freshen up the mini bar and offer to light a fire in the pit on the veranda. Knowing your night was far from over and you’d very much enjoy more time in the fresh air you accepted the offer, Emily grabbing a couple of the smaller blankets to drape over two of the chairs outside. She heard the shower come to a halt in the other room, followed by the swooshing of the door and sounds of you drying off and searching for clothes.

“Hey, you want a beer or some of this sangria?” She called, picking up a few bottles from the mini bar to examine them.

“Oh my god, beer please. No more sugar or I’m gonna wake up with the world’s worst stomach ache.” You called back, tugging on a pair of pj shorts before finally finding a tank top for under your Georgetown hoodie.

Emily had wandered out onto the patio, cracking both beers and placing one down onto the table for you as she got comfortable by the fire. You came out a few minutes later, one of your hands shaking out your wet hair while your eyes were on a couple of smaller bottles in your other hand.

“How much do you know about hair care?” You asked and Emily huffed out a laugh.

“Boxed dye will destroy it, just let it be natural.”

“So no vote on whether argan or coconut oil is better?”

“No.” She chuckled, taking a swig of her beer.

“Whatever.” You shrugged, dropping the two bottles onto the table before scooping up your beer to take a swig, settling in the chair beside her, a happy sigh leaving your lips at the warmth of the fire. Placing your beer down on the table you slid the hair elastic off your wrist, flipping your head over and gathering all your hair up into a ball.

“Okay, no!” Emily protested, her hand smacking your arm.

“What?” You asked, straightening up as you tightened the band.

“Your hair is soaked and even after washing probably coated with a mix of chlorine and salt, you do that and sleep on it, you’re gonna wake up with it matted so bad it’s practically dreadlocks. At least put it in a braid.”

“It’ll be fine.” You shrugged, “and if I try to braid it it’ll be just as messy.”

Emily gave you a side eye glance, her head tilting in near disappointment, “I’m not dealing with your complaining over knots tomorrow, go find a comb and then come here.”

You shot her a glance but put your beer down to search through the villa while Emily picked up the two bottles of serum, reading through the blurbs on the back before choosing one and you returned to the front of her chair. She pulled a cushion off the spare chair, placing it at her feet as she shifted forward so you could settle on it between her knees.

“Sit.”

You did as she asked, plopping down onto the pillow and handing her the comb as you began to tug the elastic out of your hair. You could already hear Emily grumbling behind you at the harsh way you were treating your hair, her hand quickly wrapping around your wrist to stop your movement, taking the elastic from you to delicately remove it from the already forming knots.

Her fingertips slid up the back of your scalp, softly shaking out your locks, slowly combing through to make sure there were no big knots to be worked through gently before she brushed it with the comb. Emily parted your hair, pulling the comb through it until your hair was smooth and you let out a happy sigh, relaxing further against her.

“You want one or two?” She asked, smoothing back a couple of fly aways with her hand.

“I’ve only got one elastic.” You replied, holding it up and she laughed.

“One it is.”

Moving the comb back through your hair once again she began to style it in preparation for the single braid, gathering pieces of your hair between her fingers as the comb found a home on her lap. Somehow every pass of her fingers matched the rhythm of the waves softly crashing against the sand, drifting underneath your villa. Emily hummed happily, her eyes drifting from your head to the horizon.

“God it’s peaceful out here.”

“Tell me about it.” You replied, a dream-like smile on your cheeks. “And a world better than plates clattering, screaming children, adults yelling and overplayed Christmas music. I can only hear Silver Bells so many times before I want to rip my ear drums out.”

Emily laughed, her fingers slowing to fix a couple pieces of hair, “is it just Christmas you skip out on celebrating or is it all holidays?”

“I think most are useless.” You shrugged, “Halloween’s pretty cool but it kinda loses appeal as you age. First you’re too old to trick or treat, then the parties are all about getting wasted. Thanks to the job I get to be incredibly passionate about the Fourth of July, but fuck celebrating much else, there really isn’t a point. It’s not like I often have the time off to fly home for one single night and lousy dinner anyways.”

“That why you leave the country, avoiding your family?” Emily asked with a smirk you couldn’t see and you were quick with the rebuttal.

“I don’t see you itching to get anywhere to bicker over cold potatoes, under seasoned macaroni and overcooked turkey….”

“You’ve got me there.” She replied, earning a small laugh from you. “When was the last time you were home?”

“Years ago.” You groaned, taking a swig of your beer, “I went back the first couple of years after graduating Georgetown. I no longer had the excuse of full time school to focus on and they said they’d pay for my flight and that I deserved a break.”

“Good old fashioned bribery.”

“Exactly.” Your eyes drifted back to the ocean, watching the way the moonlight was sparkling against the water and felt relief wash over you once again, “as soon as I got to the house I was immediately yelled at because the living room wasn’t clean. Like that was somehow my fault? I understand that yeah, I grew up in that house and was staying in my childhood room, but I hadn’t been home in over seven years, I’d like to think you’d qualify as a house guest at that point.”

Emily dryly laughed again and you could feel her fingertips stroking just over your hairline, the touch soothing you, keeping your heart rate down while you reminisced on the not exactly fantastic holidays.

“I had to make sure my room was clean, despite it being half full of storage and no one was going to be seeing it. I’d get woken up at the crack of dawn and coerced into cleaning, prepping food, cooking and told to be better and go faster, this needed to be a successful Christmas after all. Like, I had nothing to do with planning a far too extensive menu and the entire house was my parent’s mess and I certainly didn’t add a single person to the guest list. We’d go over to a cousin’s house for dinner and everything would be coated with dog hair so why was I tasked with dusting the top of the China cabinet that no one would see?” A huff escaped your lips as your shoulders dropped, the sounds of the ocean soothing through you, your breathing beginning to match the pace of the waves and Emily’s fingers tickled at the back of your neck as she began to scoop up the longer pieces of hair. Your lips curved up into a happy grin, your voice softer when you spoke, “why would I want to be anywhere like that when I could be somewhere like here?”

Your hand gently squeezed at Emily’s ankle and she felt the warmth of your touch slowly spreading through her entire body at the sentiment. Sure, it was very possible you were just referring to the expensive over ocean villa complete with endless drinks and food and a view to die for. But there was a piece of her that just knew you were also alluding to the company, the time spent together and how there was no doubt it made for a superior holiday.

She thought about her own time returning home the few years she did and chuckled sorely, “my job very quickly gave me the excuse to not go home, I remember one year I finally could show up so I figured I owed my mother that much. I got there and the house was full of people, more than half that I didn’t even know. I grabbed a drink, some finger food and was practically ignored by everyone, which I guess made sense as most of them didn’t know me and those that did hadn’t seen me in long enough they didn’t recognize me, or maybe it was that they didn’t know how to treat me like an adult. Everyone else around the house was so much more important than me it didn’t seem to matter, half the time my mother wouldn’t even realize I was there until she found me hiding in the kitchen helping with dishes and she’d shove a drink in my hand, shooing me out of there to go mingle.” Emily reached out, grabbing the hair tie off the table, wrapping it around the end of the now finished braid. Her hand slid over it, making sure there weren’t any lumpy bits before she traced your hairline again, pulling out a couple of shorter pieces, twirling them around her fingers and leaving them to frame your face. She leant forward, hands on your shoulders, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head, “you’re done.”

Your hand reached up, squeezing at hers as you stood, half turning back to her, “thanks.” You shot her a smile, scooping up your beer before settling into your own lounger.

While neither of you continued to say anything pertaining to your not so great holidays of the past, you knew that the unspoken words were still there. That this was far more enjoyable than any of the previous ones could have ever imagined. That you would much rather have each other by your side over pretending to celebrate on your own back home, warding off invitations and insistence from friends or coworkers to join them in their festivities.

There was no better place to be than a tropical paradise, a cold beer in your hand and the warm salt air wafting from the ocean directly into your home for the week.

__________________

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[lunemai]

•• -Mornings With You- ••

Demigod!Y/n x Luke Castellan

Summary - Waking up with Luke on your birthday in a cabin near the beach feels like a dream or at least it was going to be, until some people decided to interrupt.

Warnings - Y/n's godly parent is not specified, she/her pronouns, softness, talk of kids, kissing, no betrayal universe, teeth rotting fluff, marriage, and that's it I think.

part one - part two || can be read as a standalone. ||

•••••••••••••••••••••★•••••••••••••••••••••

The distant waves and the birds singing walking the shoreline are sounds you look forward to when waking up, this time, it was a different sound, a more annoying sound, a very familiar voice.

"I didn't even mean it like that-" Percy tries to say but is quickly interrupted by the sound of Annabeth's voice, "Yes, you did."

"Okay, you came to my house on this glorious peaceful morning to talk about your.. -marital problems?" Luke talks in between both of them. I can practically hear Annabeth's eye roll, "Of course not, we came to give your prisoner her annual 'congrats on not dying' birthday cake." right. 

Everyone knows as demigods living a long and prosperous life is not guaranteed, therefore; congrats on not dying birthday cake. Though I think that's what every “normal” person gets, it's just very subtle.

“what? she’s not my prisoner.” I hear Annabeth scoff as I get up from bed and head towards the bathroom door inside mine and Luke’s room, quietly. duh. 

“right.” Annabeth says, there’s a pause before Luke answers, “Right?” though he’s trying to be assertive it sounds more like a question than a statement. 

there’s another pause before I hear that same voice that woke me in the first place, “So are you going to let us in or??” I hear Annabeth shove past him and Luke and head towards the kitchen where the boys also seem to follow.

since I can no longer hear their voices I finally enter the bathroom to brush my teeth and my hair, no one wants to look like a monster around Demi-gods of all people, might end up without a head.

coming out of the room I immediately hear the sound of Percy and Annabeth having a conversation about why having too much blue food coloring could ultimately be damaging.

Finally coming into view I see Luke making coffee with his back facing us and the soulmates sitting in bar stools awaiting their drinks.

Percy has a cherry muffin in front of him and Annabeth had buttery popcorn, in the morning.

“Oh hey sleepy head, I’m surprised your kidnapper lets you out of your room,” Annabeth says, Luke turns around with a coffee mug in his hand and leans against the kitchen counter while Percy simply awaits Luke’s rebuttal.

“Same, I guess I must be his favorite victim,” I say, encouraging Annabeth to jab at the fact Luke and I haven’t left our home in 2 weeks since our honeymoon.

“who’s side are you on?” Luke says with his brows furrowed. “The winning side, mine,” Annabeth answers for me.

I raise an eyebrow at Luke walking towards him, wrapping my arms around his waist once I reach him to look up at his eyes.

“Hi, baby.” He says looking down at me he places one hand on my hip, and his forehead meets mine.

“Hi handsome, you make any for me?” I say pointing at the mug in his other hand with my eyes. 

he squeezes my hip with his hand and nudges my nose with his, “Of course I did, you’re my favorite victim.” he meets my lips with a matching soft smile on his face, 2, 4, 5 seconds and I hear a voice,

“Did you make any for us?” of course, it’s Percy.

sadly, Luke pulls away from the kiss to look at Percy. “You think I want you to have any more energy than you already do?” 

Percy sighs in disbelief, “What energy? I’m a ball of sarcasm, not happiness.” Luke lets out a laugh and replies, “Sure Perse, there should be enough in the pot.”

Luke looks back down at me and pecks my cheek, “You want your ‘congrats on not dying cake’ or me and the beach first?”

with a soft laugh, I respond “Depends, who made it this time?” I say while turning to look at the two occupying the kitchen island.

“Me.” Annabeth says, and that’s all I need to hear, “Cake first then.” Percy shrugs and decides I have a right to say that after last year’s cake.

“I thought adding salt to things made it more flavorful or whatever, I mean they do it with chocolate milk.” even though he’s right, a whole cup of salt on a cake was not the right move.

“Right, but the point is not to aim for a salty flavor.” I have to admit, reading and following instructions will never be an easy feat for a Demi-god, dyslexia, and all that.

“That’s why you have to re-read things Percy,” Annabeth says while getting the cake out of the box. 

Annabeth hands each of us a slice of red velvet cake and we all eat with glee laughter, and sarcasm since Percy and Annabeth are here.

“Okay, now that we ate and used dishes we don’t have to wash, Happy birthday prisoner, try to find an escape route soon,” Annabeth says standing up to hug me and put her dish in the sink for Luke to wash later.

“Yeah, thanks for using water in the only way I could never, Luke,” Percy says also putting his dish in the sink on top of Annabeth's. 

“Don’t worry, I know I can handle water more than you, son of Poseidon,” Luke says gathering mine and his dish, to stack them atop the rest.

“Happy birthday newly kidnapped.” that didn’t sound grammatically correct, but I wouldn’t know. 

“Thanks, Perse, and also thank you for not making the cake.” with a nod full of fake sympathy, Percy and Annabeth walk out the door with a last goodbye hug and a wave.

closing the cabin door, I feel arms wrap around my back, leaning against Luke I feel his chin on my shoulder.

“You know the beach will be here all day,” he says in between the kisses he’s now placing on my collarbone, all leading up towards my jawline.

“Yeah, you’re right about that one,” I say closing my eyes and enjoying the sensation of him making a path of kisses up my neck.

“so maybe, we should just go back to bed for a little while.” he finally reaches my cheek, and I open my eyes to turn my head towards his, nudging my nose against his.

“That sounds like a great plan,” I say turning around in his arms to put my hands on his chest.

“Yeah?” he says softly with a deep and passionate kiss following.

breathing heavily I manage to respond

“Yeah.”

notes: this is my first fic in sooo long!! i’m so happy to have this done, it’s 1,081 words and i’m so ducking proud of that.

Thank you sm for reading! I promise there’s many more coming.

REQUEST ARE VERY MUCH OBLIGED.

[inkedtae]

iii. howlin’ ⇾ bgc. [M]

chapter three : ringin’, howlin’ ⤑ ❝ chan gazes up at you, eyes gleaming with that unidentifiable emotion as he declares, “i am pathetically in love with you.” ❞

⇽ prev. | masterlist 

⌁ pairing; alpha!bang chan x alpha!reader (f.)

⌁ genre; established relationship, secret lovers, werewolf au, soulmate au, angst, smut, 18+

⌁ word count; 19.1k

⌁ warnings; switch!chan, ass enthusiast!chan, big dicc!chan, (chan is also a total simp for reader), switch!reader, (reader is highkey thick/curvy), rough sex, break up sex, handjob, oral (f./m. receiving), degradation, some masturbation, daddy kink, praise kink, size kink, dirty talk, biting, knotting, hair pulling, choking, lots of cockwarming, spanking, cum play, a bit of spit play

⌁ 🎧 now playing... ✩

❥ prefer ao3? keep reading here

❥ a special thanks to fleur ( @editsbyfleur ) for making this lovely banner for me and to my girl jen ( @anobodyslove​​ ) for editing and beta reading this monstrous fic for me! you are amazing and i am so lucky to call you my friend 💕

You don’t want to open your eyes. Last night is a lump in your throat searing through all your emotions.

When you returned from Chan’s apartment, you debated about going out to get some air. There’s a twenty-four-hour convenience store just around the corner. They sell those stale honeybuns you like and piping hot tea that always burns your tongue. Sometimes it’s all you can afford, and life post-college is not as lucrative as you were once promised. Chan would always offer to take you somewhere fancier. You always refused, preferring the sturdy walls of the rotting convenience store. You wanted to go last night but didn’t want to risk him following you.

Instead, you laid in bed all night, folded into yourself and hidden under the sheets. You tried to stop crying, but every inch of you only craved him. Though you knew the party would prevent him from checking on you, a part of you hoped you were wrong. You hoped he took what you had said seriously, leaving the safety of Changbin’s room for yours.

He never did.

You coil into yourself again now, trying hard not to throw up. You swallow that lump thickly and take a deep breath. Everything hurts. All over, your body tingles with dull pain. Parts of you are shattered for not having been touched and others from being overstimulated. Your clit seems to be experiencing both, faintly aching. You’re not exactly turned on but not turned off either. The underside of your stomach cramps too, spreading a silent discomfort around your torso.

There is a little pounding in your trembles, heaviness to your bones. You can practically feel the energy drain from your body with every thought of him. He’s not here to cuddle you to sleep, to coddle all your worries away and soothe every twinge of pain. He’s not here to be yours. Why are you still craving him? You know he doesn’t deserve it.

You screw your eyes tight and allow your exhaustion to take over.

Slowly, emptiness consumes you.

— — —

Rain falls. You hear the muted patters against the window.

Chan loves the rain. He’d call you over and sneak you into his room, with snacks and a movie ready. He’d insist you sit on his lap or lay between his legs as he held you. He’d laugh quietly in your ear, lips tucked against your earlobe, during all the funny moments and hold you tighter during all the sweeter ones. When something dangerous flashes on the screen, he’d pull you closer. He’d never said it, but you knew he would never let anything bad happen to you. That little tug of your body towards his was proof enough.

Even with this faint pang of pain in your stomach, further soiling the taste of your own tongue, you still crave some chocolate-coated popcorn.

You slowly open your eyes. Light peeks through your curtains. It’s a bluish-grey, dimly illuminating the room enough for you to know it’s not quite the end of the day yet. You’re not sure how long you’ve been sleeping. It almost feels as though it hasn’t even been five minutes since you had fallen back asleep.

Unwrapping yourself from your sheets, you search around your bed for your phone. You can’t remember if you fell asleep with it beside you or if you put it  on your night table. You pat your mattress down around yourself, until you feel it wedged under your back. You pull it out to check the time only to find it’s dead.

With a sigh, you reach out to put it on the charger. The overdue stretch releases some of the tension in your fatigued muscles. You take it as a moment to lay back and further stretch your arms and legs out, slowly turning your wrists to crack your stiff bones. It doesn’t sound as satisfying as it feels. Your body isn’t as heavy anymore though, some degree of energy returning to you.

CRASH!

You sit up to the sound of  glass breaking. A flurry of whispered demands exchange between your roommates. It’s always something with them. If they are not breaking furniture, then they are rearranging it. You once walked in after work one day to find that they redecorated the living room to make a maze.

“It’s a livable maze!” Jeongin corrected, popping out from somewhere in the middle.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“You can live in it!” Seungmin excitedly added, peeking out of the makeshift door they made. It wasn’t lost on you that they had used the clean sheets you washed the night before.

You crawled through their weakly structured tunnels, trying to convince them that this was a terrible idea the entire weekend. Minho eventually lost his patience when he stubbed his toe on the edge of the couch. He couldn’t see it under layers of wrinkled bed sheets. The maze collapsed as he walked right through it.

You rub your temples, drawing out of the memory. You attempt to calm yourself down with the reassuring fact that they are probably trying to clean and something must have slipped out of—

SMASH!

Twice in less than a minute is concerning.

Pushing off your covers, you scoot out of bed. You throw on a hoodie and some shorts as their hushed voices become sharper. You shuffle towards the door. Silence settles when you open it. A myriad of scents wash over you, intensifying the ache in your temples. Between what smells like baked cookies, you can sniff out the mixed scents of all your friends.

Your eyes take a moment to adjust to the light. You rub them with the heel of your palm when you pop your head out of your room. Seungmin looks down the hall at you. Still in his pyjamas, he hugs a pastel green mixing bowl against his chest, his other hand clutching onto a silver whisk.

“You guys okay?” you ask, voice groggy.

Seungmin nods, parting his lips to reassure you when you hear Changbin’s sing-songy voice instead.

“Good morning!” he calls, triggering a chorus of ‘good mornings.’ However, his voice carries on an all too long melody. A sudden thump silences him, not a moment too soon, giving your ears a second of peace.

A smile plays on Seungmin’s face, cute eyes gleaming with amusement before he corrects. “It’s almost five.”

Your eyes widen. You figured you were out for a while but didn’t think you slept that long. Have they been trying to be quiet this whole time or did they just arrive?

You shuffle down the hall to properly gauge who exactly is here,  nostrils too overwhelmed to distinguish specific scents.

The living room has been redecorated into a makeshift bedroom. With the couches pushed back and out of the way, Changbin and Jeongin have lined up four blankets and pillows as beds. You raise a brow and turn towards the kitchen to ask what’s going on, but your words get lost as you catch Felix sweeping up broken glass, Hyunjin washing dishes and Seungmin dumping a whole pack of chocolate chips into his bowl.

“Did I miss something?”

“You mean besides the whole day?” Seungmin teases.

“Or a comb?” Jeongin adds with a little smile as he walks by you to the kitchen.

Your friends snicker, their gazes lingering over your bed-headed hair.

On any other day, you’d probably tease them back. Changbin is wearing a shirt that’s two sizes too small and Felix obviously let his clumsiness get the best of him. The lingering ache in your stomach, however, dims your humour. You barely manage a smile as you grab a seat on the barstool, in front of the island.

Jeongin studies your expression, once playful gaze softening. He flashes a little smile when you catch him staring as if silently asking if you’re okay. It’s not like you to not toss a harmless insult back, or fall silent after receiving one. A part of you wants to tell him everything’s okay, but it will only pique everyone else’s interest and you cannot avoid all their questions or watchful gazes at once. Remaining silent might be your best option right now.

After returning the smile, you pull your attention away from Jeongin and onto Changbin as he seats himself beside you.

“We’re going to be staying here for the night,” he explains.

A chill runs down your spine. We? Who exactly is “we?”

Changbin… Jisung…

You gulp at the thought of Chan spending the night here. Smelling him so close, hearing his heartbeat through the walls… His voice and laugh are enough to make you giddy with excitement on a regular day. When you’re this frustrated with him, it only chips away at your confidence and pride. You’re going to yearn for him all the more. You won’t be able to take it, especially with this many eyes around. What makes it worse is the thought that if things were still blissfully uncertain, this would’ve been the perfect opportunity to sneak off together.

You take a deep breath as your friends slip back into their previous conversations and tasks. You just need to calm down. Maybe they might not have to stay and whatever the issue is with their apartment can get easily worked out. If all else fails, you can visit your parents for the night. Gaining some more distance from Ch— the situation might be best for the both of you, as heartbreaking as that conclusion sounds.

Stripping your tone of panic, you try to casually ask, “What happened to your apartment?”

Changbin exchanges a confused look with Jeongin and Felix. A little smile plays on his lips when he looks back at you. “Did you not hear what I said?” he asks with a little chuckle.

You look between your friends, realising they may have been talking to you this whole time and not each other. Even Hyunjin, mid-rinse by the sink, looks at you over his shoulder.

Eager to recover, you rub your eyes and force a yawn. “Sorry, still sleepy,” you excuse, “What’d you say?”

The guys seem to buy it– except for Seungmin and Jeongin. You never can get anything past your roommates, their gazes sharp and expressions blank as they study you.

“I was just saying Chan’s in heat,” he repeats.

Eyes widening, brows shooting up, you gape at Changbin. How is that even possible? Males cannot go into heat.

“No, he’s not,” you dryly chuckle.

“The blue moon messed with everyone,” Changbin shrugs.

“Sensory issues, irritability, impulsivity, overactivity, heat reversals,” Felix lists, disposing of the glass he broke. “Didn’t you see it online?”

An image of Jeongin breaking off doorknobs flashes before your eyes. He’s been having trouble controlling his strength, Chan once mentioned. Seungmin’s been up all hours of the night, with energy to burn. Felix and Hyunjin wore earplugs for nearly the whole week. Jisung and Changbin have been short-tempered, rough housing every chance they get. You and Minho almost passed out a few times due to scent exhaustion. And Chan— moody, impatient, suddenly intensely active �� is now holed up in his apartment, suffering and in heat alone.

Is this why you’ve been aching? When you were researching mates earlier in your relationship, you found that if a bond is strong enough, you can subconsciously share emotions, even symptoms of sickness or heats. Your wolf must have known he was in pain, you realise. Your wolf sensed his discomfort, mildly experiencing his symptoms, and was trying to tell you.

You blink back tears, avoiding your friends’ gazes. Why didn’t he call? Why didn’t he tell you? Yes, you’re mad at him, but being in heat is hard— extremely painful if not properly tended to. If the roles were reversed, you wouldn’t even need to call him; he’d already be there for you. It doesn’t matter how upset he’d be, he’d drop everything to make sure you’re okay.

He should’ve called. 

Why the fuck hasn’t he—

“My phone’s dead,” you think aloud.

Maybe he did try to tell you but your phone’s been dead and considering you lashed out at Minho last night (who you still need to apologise to), no one has been brave enough to wake you up.

You get up, rubbing the smeared mascara and eyeliner from under your eyes. “I’ll be right back,” you say, making your way to the door.

“Where are you going?” Changbin asks. He stands from his seat with you.

“Um,” you hesitate. “There’s this drink that Chan likes. He told me before that it helps when he's feeling sick. I-I think they have it across the street.”

“Minho and Jisung already went out to buy him stuff,” Seungmin replies after putting the brownies in the oven. “You don’t need to worry about that.”

Great.

You should have seen that coming when you didn’t see either of them arguing. You keep your hand on the doorknob as a nervous sigh escapes you. “Yeah, yeah, that’s good,” you nod, pausing to swallow your nerves. “The thing is that I also forgot something in, um, the car— my car so I, um, I have to leave anyway.”

A nervous chuckle tumbles out of your lips as you open the door.

Jeongin leans over the island countertop to get a better look at you. His eyes linger on your bare feet as you step out of the apartment. He flashes a little suspicious smile, asking, “What’d you forget?”

“My…. charger?”

You catch them sharing glances.

They’re onto you.

You know it.

They know it.

Panic suffocates your chest, your heart pounding faster, working harder to calm you down. Maybe there was a better excuse to try, or a better way of handling this, but you don’t really care any more. Chan’s behaviour does not deserve your presence but you know he would never leave you aching and alone like that. He’d try to help any way he can, any way you’d let him. At the very least, you need to do the same, right?

I just miss him, your wolf whispers.

The conclusion loops in your head, festering your stomach with pathetic shame. You try to push the thought away, rubbing your brow and exhaling heavily but it continues to spew the truth little by little. It’s barely been a day and you’ve spent it sleeping because being this conscious means you have to be aware of just how far away Chan is and just how badly you want him.

“You can use mine,” Jeongin suggests.

You ignore him, already out the door. You don’t trust your voice not to betray you. The weight of it sits heavy in your throat already, clawing at your oesophagus. No matter how many times you try to gulp it away, it remains with the undeniable truth that you don’t want to leave him, that you don’t want to play a game of ultimatums.

The click of your apartment door shutting echoes in the hallway. You stare at the one across the hall, recalling the way you pushed it open last night after flirting with Kai. Straining your ears, you try to pick up the sound of his voice. You can only just hear the faint beat of his heart and the spray of the shower. You wonder if it’s breaking as much as yours.

You take a step forward.

How will he perceive you after last night, after he might have tried to call you? He’s stuck in heat, emotions awry and high. You don’t know if he’d be upset or relieved. Would he even want you here? Is this a good idea?

Your hand hovers over the doorknob.

You should at least try, right? You should walk in there and try to offer some help. Whether he takes it or not is up to him. As long as you did what you think is right, what he would do for you if the roles were reversed, then you can walk back into your room guilt free.

With a turn of the knob, you take a deep breath and open the door.

A hot wave of pure cedar and peppercorn burns your nostrils. Stumbling to regain your balance, Chan’s scent,  overpowered by adrenaline and drenched in frenzied pheromones, knocks you back. You reach for the door frame to keep yourself stable. An appetite for him grows, festering in the base of your stomach. Every inhale makes you clench. Your core, wet and aching, tightens and relaxes in anticipation as if preparing for his length. 

Heart hammering, you turn your head away from the apartment and take a deep breath. The scent is still thick, your attempts at avoiding it useless. It almost smells as though he hasn’t gotten off at all, still pent up with desire and frustration. Along with reversing the cycle, the blue moon must have strengthened it too, forcing a week’s worth of arousal in twenty-four hours. 

And it’s not going to get any easier standing here with the door wide open. With his alpha pheromones at their peak, you’re sure they’ll eventually attract someone’s attention.

Wiping the drool from the corner of your lips, you let out a shaky breath and quickly enter his apartment. You make sure to shut the door behind you, carefully leaning your back against it. 

He’s in the shower now, the muffled spray of the water greeting you. 

Good– it gives you some time to get yourself together. You shut your eyes and try to remember that you’re just here because it’s the right thing to do. This doesn’t change how you feel about the way he’s been acting. This doesn’t change how serious you were— are.

You lick your lips before a hushed profanity escapes you. Your chin is still wet with your saliva. You hurriedly wipe it away with the back of your hand, panting like a starved dog.

How the fuck am I going to get through this alive?

With the squeaking turn of the tap, the shower stops. Your attention snaps down the hall, to the muted sound of the glass door as it screeches open. You hear the drips of water fall on the floor from his naked body, the soft pads of his feet as he shuffles through the bathroom. If you try hard enough, you can catch the soft ruffle of his towel against his curls.

And then you hear it, a soft groan, a silent squelch. You push yourself off the door and take a couple of steps towards the bathroom, eager to hear more of his frustration and what it has manifested itself into.

You should probably say something, right? Announce yourself? He might be your mate, but eavesdropping on him getting off is still wrong…right?

“Fuck…” Chan moans in a hushed tone.

You clamp your hand over your mouth to hold back your own sounds. A shiver rushes down your spine. Brows furrowing, eyes watering, you press your thighs together. Feeling dizzy with lust, your knees almost give out. You reach out to the nearest wall and lean against it to stabilise yourself.

The bathroom door squeaks open and you catch Chan’s nearly naked frame through the narrow crack of the ajar door. His buff chest gleams with fresh drops of water, curly hair damp and pushed back. His scent is not only stronger now, but wet.

It is not the potent scent of arousal that shatters you, however. Rather, it is his swollen face. Dark circles, tear-stained cheeks, red tint of his pale skin, brittleness of his dry lips– he is broken. 

Your wolf shudders. Needing to shield him from any further pain, you want to wrap him in your embrace. You want to engulf him in your scent, knowing the smell of you will at least ease the tremors of his aching heart– you can hear it thudding in his chest, beating fast and almost uneven. You want to run your hands along his broad back and strong arms, soothing his nerves long enough to lay him down and finally relieve that throb between his legs. 

Your instincts rage against your stubbornness, brewing storms of guilt deep in your chest. You hold your ground, however, curling your hands into fists.

Chan takes one deep breath and snaps his attention to you. His eyes are bloodshot, drowning with disbelief and remorse. 

Your knees buckle, throat dry. 

While Chan is to blame for your drastic words, your chest still festers with guilt, knowing you haven’t made this any easier. You edged him last night, only to leave him blue balled and begging. You ignored him all day too while he suffered alone. Not even his hand is cutting it anymore, you realise, noting the abandoned attempt to jerk off a couple of seconds ago. This is your fault.

Forcing yourself to stand straight, you start, “I—”

The slam of the door cuts you off.

You stand still for a moment, stunned and confused. Sure, you didn’t expect him to run into your arms. Some relieved acknowledgment might have been nice though. Had he not been thinking about you? How else had he been able to get off? You remember the countless nights when neither of you could risk sneaking out to see each other but were rendered a mess of horny emotions. Chan would call you once he was sure everyone was sleeping. He couldn’t get off until he heard your voice.

And now, he can’t even stand to look at you, hiding away in a humid bathroom.

The click of the lock draws you out of your thoughts.

“What are you doing here?” he asks through the door. His voice is strained, no doubt tired from moaning and growling.

The thought of him doing so in your ear makes you tremble. Breath shaky, you inch closer towards the door.

“My phone was dead,” you begin.

His silence reminds you just how useless that explanation is without context.

“So, I didn’t know. I didn’t see your texts. Changbin actually just told me. They’re all staying across the hall, but you probably already know that,” you chuckle, twisting the hem of your shirt. “So, my phone died and I just…” you trail off, realising you’re repeating yourself.

You can hear Chan’s rapid heart beat on the other side of the door and his little huffs and puffs as he tries to calm himself down. 

Suppressing a defeated sigh, body now aching from the fragility of his voice, you shut your eyes and swallow thickly. You take a step closer, now almost pressed against the wood. With a part of your lips, you’re about to tell him you came to help.

“I didn’t text,” he admits in a mutter, voice heavy with regret.

“Oh.”

Maybe he doesn’t need you after all. Maybe you’re the one too attached to him and can’t let go. You could barely last a day before running back into his arms, foolishly thinking they would be open for you. Blinking back tears, you swallow thickly.

“I just didn’t think it was fair,” he explains. His voice strains, almost breaking.

You pause.

“You made yourself clear last night and you were right,” you hear him shift his weight before he continues, “I don’t deserve to call you mine when I’ve been treating you this way.”

Though you want to hate it, you’re relieved to find that your assumptions were wrong. Of course, you don’t want Chan to get hurt, but a little toxic part of you is almost glad your harsh words have made an impression. You’re glad you’re not the only one craving his presence and yearning for his touch, his scent, his being intertwined with yours.

“We don’t need to discuss that right now. I just came to help you through this heat. And—”

A muted growl cuts you off.

You can hear the pound of his heart clearly now, the rush of blood coursing through his veins as his wolf’s nails scratch at the door.

Shit, can he smell you? Is it driving him crazy?

You try to fight the silent satisfaction that beams in your chest, biting back a smile. Are you just that horny or purely insane to feel this much excitement about his torture? There’s just something about being in control and knowing that he needs you, that you are essential to his survival.

“I think it would be best if you left,” he finally sighs.

It would be, you should reply before leaving.

You just cannot bring yourself to follow through, let alone utter the words. There’s a muted twinge of pain in your pelvis and vague nausea in the pit of your stomach. The scent of his pheromones only intensify the discomfort in your bones. When you try to swallow your desires away, you feel a vacancy in your throat that just begs to be filled and tested by an all too wide girth. Your entire body craves the satisfaction of an earth-shattering orgasm spilling in your mouth, leaking from the corners of your lips.

Even if your life depends on it, you cannot not find the ability to leave. So, you latch onto that pathetic, measly reason that brought back you to his apartment.

“Would you leave?” You ask. “If I was in heat and you were upset with me, would you leave me here alone?”

Silence.

You merely catch little hisses followed by a thick gulp. He’s in unimaginable pain and would rather endure it than let you help him. Maybe your words have stuck; maybe he is really starting to believe you when you say you’re leaving. And being here could undermine it all, yet he doesn’t let it. He knows you were serious last night and must be considering your presence as obligatory.

And it is. But, you cannot ignore the lingering pain below your stomach and your wolf won’t let you forget just how much you love him either. He’s your best friend. He’s the person you feel safest with, someone who wouldn’t care about anger when he knows you’re hurt. So, even without certainty from your wolf that you belong together, you’d still find your way back to him.

“Let’s pretend everyone knows,” you whisper. “Let’s pretend we didn’t fight.”

“I want everyone to know,” he says, pausing to inhale deeply, “I—”

“Just open the door,” you plead.

The lock clicks, but the door remains closed. You hear a little shuffle, a nervous heart beat.

“Are you sure?”

“When it comes to you, I’m always sure,” you whisper.

He opens the door, peering at you from the crack. One look and he shakes his head, about to shut the door again. “This is a bad ide-”

You push it open with all your strength. He stumbles back; you rush forward. Arms wrapped around his neck, you press yourself against his wet body and let your lips collide.

Your heart raptures. His breath gives you life. The deprivation of his essence reminds you that you have probably found each other in every lifetime. Your love collides like planets, aimlessly floating, yearning to become one.

Chan cups your face, his hands shaky yet firm, like he cannot believe it himself but wants to. You can almost feel the ache of his body radiate onto yours. It makes you quiver with want as your legs press together.

His nose brushes against yours when he breaks the kiss, breath rapid and lips wet. He searches your eyes for even more certainty, desperate to ensure that this really is what you want. His gaze then flickers back to your lips.

Kissing him was a mistake, you realise. It was too intimate, too magical. You feel obligated to help him through this unusual heat in honour of your friendship and bond. And that should be where it ends. You cannot let yourself get lost in world-altering kisses.

So, before he can close the gap between you again, you dive towards his neck.

You planned to plant open mouthed kisses under his jawline as he flexes it for you. However, you stupidly forgot just how strong his scent is around his neck. It’s where the majority of it seeps out and intoxicates you. The moment your nose is smothered against his skin, you cannot control yourself.

Your eyes widen, pussy clenches as your arousal stains your inner thighs. Digging your nails into his biceps, you moan loudly and drag your tongue over his sensitive skin. He smells so good but tastes even better. You feel the vibrations of his growls against your tongue, eyes rolling back as your face flushes with pride.

Chan urgently pushes you back against the wall. You don’t have time to tell him that he needs to rest, quietly grunting from the impact. He’ll only further torment himself if he attempts to take control– you know from experience. 

In a breath, however,  he has pushed your shorts down and spread your legs, cupping your pussy. He chokes on his next intake of air and you’re not sure if it’s because of your wetness, or the intoxicating heat of it all invading his senses. But Chan is on his knees. He smothers his face between your legs, growling the moment the tip of his nose presses against your clit. The sinful sound of his slurping, the rushed drag of his tongue, makes you tremble. You tangle your fingers in his hair, resting one of your legs on his shoulder.

He grips onto your ass, pushing your pelvis up in his face. Starved, you’d think it’s been weeks since you’ve had a taste of each other and not mere hours. Shaking his head, he slurps on your arousal as his nose rubs against your clit. You squeal, toes curling. His warm tongue glides up and down between your folds before he latches around your clit. He harshly sucks, flicking it with the tip of his tongue. A loud moan tears through your throat as you throw your head back. He’s usually not this rough when you’re standing, knowing you can’t hold yourself up for very long. He doesn’t seem to care this time, even going as far as nibbling on the little nub only to lick the sting away.

“Ch-Chan,” you start, only for his finger to slide inside you.

“Cum on my tongue,” he mutters against your clit, voice raspy and slightly frayed.

You can’t find it in you to tell him to slow down. He’s the one who is overstimulated, cock painfully hard between his legs. He’s the one in heat. You shouldn’t be the one showered with attention this aggressively.  

However, with his fingers deep in you, slighting curling forward, you seem to forget how to speak. All you think about, all you feel are his long fingers, his hot mouth. You throw your head back. Your moan cracks into a high pitched whine as you cum. Body shaking, hips jutting out against his face, you gush all over his mouth.

Chan wastes no time replacing his finger with his tongue, reaching deep inside you to gather every last drop. He growls, sinks his fingers into the fat of your ass, forcing you to stay still against his face.

It’s then that you realise, while he may be aching under that thin towel and so urgently craves the comfort of your care, he needs this right here– your body, your heat, your taste. He needs to feel you melt in his hands, to react to his touch.  And while you desperately want to give him whatever he needs, your placating alpha merely wanting to satisfy all his urges, you don’t think you can endure another second of this overstimulation.

“Chan,” you cry, tugging at his hair to push him away. “P-please!”

He flattens his tongue and slowly drags it up your folds before finally pulling away. He gives you a second to catch your breath as he gets back on his feet. Chest heaving, he towers over you, chin and cheeks glistening from your arousal. His nose is particularly shiny from the way he shoved it against your clit. He brushes it against yours, hands gripping your ass. You catch a strong whiff of your thick scent. He spanks you, smirking when you whine.

You part your lips, about to suggest continuing in his room. You can lay him down there and ride all this frustration out of him.

However, Chan is not interested in leaving the hallway just yet. He pulls your shirt up and off then turns you towards the wall. You already know what he wants, having been caught between his frame and the wall multiple times before. His favourite position is your face against any hard surface, preferably standing, with your ass perked up behind you. Spreading your legs, you arch your back the way he likes and press your face to the wall. 

Chan lets a hard hand come down on your ass once, twice, lowly chuckling as you jolt forward and whine from the impact. He quickly rubs the stinging skin, then pushes your cheeks up to align himself. Lips attached to your shoulder, he sloppily peppers your skin in wet kisses and pushes himself in. You feel his jaw drop against your neck; the deep groan he emits resonates down your spine. You squirm, gasping from the stretch of his thick length.

You remember thinking you were so naïve for believing you can take him the first time he fucked you. He asked you if you were sure three times and you begged him to just push himself in already, not able to properly see him in the dark car. Your eyes rolled back, just like they do now. You lost your voice then too. It happens every time. Your pussy aches for it, but he always fills you more than you expect. You always think you’d get used to the stretch, the depth he can reach, to the mere speed he adopts. You never can, however, especially when you're standing. Your legs weaken, trembling from the stimulation. It’s even more exhilarating in the shower, all wet and slippery. Chan has to pay extra attention to keep you from falling, usually holding you firmly against him.

“Fuck,” he groans, lips pressed to your earlobe. He draws back a couple of inches and pushes into you again. Wrapping his arms around your waist, he must feel your knees buckle from the depth of his voice, the agonisingly slow progression of his thrusts.

“I can cum in you right now,” he confesses.

You pathetically whine, whimpering like wounded prey. “Please!” you find yourself moaning. “Please, daddy!”

You swear you feel his hips quiver before his thrusts snap into action. They smack against your ass, practically applauding your pussy. His moans fill the spaces between the claps, loud, feral and breathless. And with his lips pressed to the shell of your ear, you feel each wave vibrate down each vertebrate and settle into your bones. His gruff groans embed in your flesh like a tattoo, forever scarring you as his. Others may not know but, as much as you want to, you cannot deny that every part of you belongs to him. From the way he grips onto one of your breasts and buries himself in you, there is no denying he belongs to you either. And it makes the thought of having to leave him even more heartbreaking.

So, for the sake of his heat, you pretend you have been bitten. You pretend you have been marked as his mate, solidifying the bond between you and becoming one. You pretend you aren’t disappointed and let yourself sink into this feeling of finally belonging. Pushing back against him, you throw your head back against his shoulder and cry out his name. Your voice is practically a squeal, trembling and desperate– just how he likes it.

Chan cups your drenched core. A low growl rumbles from his chest and against your back. He smirks, your earlobe between his teeth as he tugs. The constant simulation gathers tears in your eyes. You shutter against him, scratching at the wall.

“Cum with me,” he whispers, voice raspy. “Cum on my cock, princess.”

Your moans cinch at the base of your throat. You screech as your orgasm tremors through you. Chan hums a pleased moan as you gush around him, pussy flexing with each wave. He suddenly keeps you extremely still, his finger still rubbing fast circles around your clit though. His cock twitches before unloading. You feel it move against your walls, his warm cum curling your toes.

His groans are loud and fraught. He pulls out only to forcefully thrust himself back in, keen on draining every drop in you.

You lean against the wall, limp. Breathes jagged, you try to push his hand away from your clit, the ongoing simulation proving painful.

“Stop squirming,” he gently orders, trailing sloppy kisses along your shoulder blade. “You’re going to fall.”

You can only manage a whine, nudging his hand away again. He finally yields. Your hips still quiver though.

Chan quietly chuckles against your shoulder. “You should have told me it was too much,” he murmurs, not nearly as breathless as you.

Your chest heaves. You shoot him a playfully pointed glare over your shoulder, sighing, “You can’t be serious.”

He just laughs, burying his face in the crook of your neck. He swallows breathfuls of your scent, allowing the familiarity and comfort of everything you are to calm his erratic heart. Showering you with small kisses, he mutters against your skin,“God, you’re so cute. Lemme carry you.”

“It’s oka– Ah!” you begin.

Chan pulls his still hard cock out, the spark of friction cutting you off with a gasp. His arms remain firm around you to keep you steady, and you don’t realise how weak your legs really are until he shifts back half an inch and you wobble against the wall. He carries you like a bride in his arms, smirking to himself at the damage he’s caused. 

Your inner wolf simmers with irritation, resonating a peeved growl from the pit of your stomach. His face glistens with your arousal, skin scenting of your peach, sandalwood scent, and he still has the audacity to smirk like he’s ruined you, as if a little buckle of your knees can be any indication.

“Put me down.”

His arrogance wavers at the sound of your velvety voice, at how it brims with authority. The playfulness that once twinkled in his gaze darkens. He tongues his cheek, like the rise of your alpha has threatened his own. Mischief now gleams in his eyes and drops you on his bed.

You squeal, bouncing on his mattress.

He bites his lip but chuckles anyway, tilting his head to admire your curves.

“I told you to stop doing that!” You want to sound annoyed, grappling for your previous control. However, upon the sound of his deep laughter, you cannot swallow your own. 

“You like it and you know it,” he replies, crawling over you.

You hate it when he’s right.

A comfortable silence settles as you lie back for him. His face hovers over yours, and your noses brush. He leans down to meet your lips and you turn your head. You feel his brows furrow against your cheek, his lips place a chaste kiss to your jaw.

Chan whispers your name, but you shake your head.

“I don’t wanna talk about it.”

“I—”

“Please,” you plead, turning to face him again. Your attention flickers down to his lips. His hot breath fans over your face. “That’s not what this is about.”

Chan sighs, rolling off to lay beside you. “I don’t want to do this then.”

You sit up on your elbows to find him rubbing his face. His curls are still wet, muscular body laid out before you. You swallow thickly at the sight of his erect, pink tipped cock, glistening with your recent orgasm. When you glance back up to try to meet his gaze, you find he is fighting off a knowing smile, already staring at you.

“It kinda looks like you do.”

“You’re just as eager.” He says it like he has you figured out, but you weren’t even trying to hide it.

You rest a hand on his chest. He rubs your closest bicep, once firm fingers now so delicate on your skin.

As your hand trails down his abdomen, tracing every ridge, you ask, “Are you sure you don’t want this?”

He swallows thickly, throat bobbing. He moves from your arm to cup your cheek. He thumbs your lips, smirking when you lean into his touch. “Rest for a minute,” he gently commands. “I can smell how sensitive you are.”

You press your thighs together, biting back a hiss from the pressure.

He only smiles.

Then, his composure wavers as your fingers reach his pelvis, tracing his v-line until you reach his cock. His hips jerk at your touch. You’re about to giggle when his hand falls from your cheek to your neck. He glares, tightening his fist. You hold him properly in your hand and begin pumping him.

“Why do you always insist on testing my patience?” He asks, sitting up to tower over you. “Why can’t you just behave? Don’t you want to be my good girl?”

“Yes!” you beseech. Your voice trembles with desperation.

His gaze softens. He places his hand over yours, stopping your movements on his cock. “Babe—”

You shift on the bed, removing yourself from him. Chan sits up when you crawl between his legs. He pauses. Brows furrowed, lips in a pout, he tries again, saying your name only to be cut off by your hands on his knees. 

You push his legs further apart. 

His breath hitches. You watch lust cloud over his eyes as they flash a dark red. You scoot closer. Hand wrapping around him again, you smother your face against his shaft. You start at the base and inhale deeply. Eyes rolling back, you drag your tongue up his length.

His thighs tense, chest constricts with a sharp breath.

Lips around his tip, you suck the remnants of his orgasm and oozing pre-cum. A small ‘pop’ sounds when you pull away and a string of salvia still connects your lips to his throbbing tip. You pump him a couple of times, watching as he tries and fails not to squirm in his seat. He fists the edge of the unmade bed, face scrunched up in pleasure. You hold his wolfish gaze as you spit on his length, rub it against him and then dive back around him. You start slow, knowing oral with Chan is more of a marathon rather than a race. You have to pace yourself, take him in batches. Not only is he long, but thick too. He feels heavy in your hand alone, your jaw already aching.

He lets out a throaty groan. He pulls back your hair with both hands, tangling his fingers on either side of your head. Gripping tight, he attempts to guide you into a quicker pace. You let him, hollowing your cheeks and unleashing your tongue around him.

Chan throws his head back. He inhales sharply and hisses as he looks back down at you again. “Ah, baby,” he moans, petting your hair back only to get a tighter grip on it. “Mmm, that’s my good girl.”

He sounds needy already, claiming you in a growl. You feel the words rumble from his chest and against your tongue.

It spurs you on. You twist your wrist with every bob now, moving faster, testing your limits as you take more of him in. He moans your name and you gag. He tugs on your hair and you drool. When he shoves you further down on him then you’re prepared for, you force yourself to take it, violently fighting against your gag reflex. He trembles from the vibration, warming his cock a second longer in your throat before pulling you back by the grip on your hair.

You heave, tears fall freely down your face. Chan takes his cock out of your hand and smacks it against your tongue. Wet, it splatters saliva and cum around your face.

“Breathe, babe,” he quietly moans. You can only just make out a smirk through your watery vision.

You wrap your hand back around him and dive under his shaft. You take his balls in your mouth, catching the faint sound of his toes curling, and suck. Rotating your wrist, you jerk him off to the rhythm of your suction, tight and fast.

“You fucking slut,” he growls, eager to move your hair out of your face.

You moan at the insult, using your other hand to wrap around the base of his balls and gently squeeze as you suck hard.

Chan cums. It seems to catch him off guard as he jolts in place and gasps rather than growls. His thighs tremble beside you as another rope shoots out and over your back. You pump him faster, swallow between harsh suctions, and moan with him. The bed squeaks and shifts as he falls back.

You start to slow your movements when he roars, his alpha prominent in his voice, “Don’t fucking stop, you little cunt.”

Smirking, you resume your quick pace. Chan groans on the bed, humping your hand as his orgasm continues. He coats your hair and back with his cum a couple more times before he sits up again. He grabs onto your hair and yanks you away from his balls. They drop from your mouth with a wet ‘pop.’

That sound is starting to become one of your favourites, but then Chan croaks your name.

He leans your head back and replaces your hand around his cock with his own. “Stick out your tongue,” he orders, jerking himself off.

You do as you’re told, holding his gaze. His hand moves from your hair to your face. He caresses your cheek for a second, eyes darkening as his wolf shines through. He then holds your throat in his fist, groaning when you let out a frayed whine. He parts his lips to degrade you no doubt but gets cut off by another orgasm – courtesy of the heat. Cum coats your tongue, shoots around your lips and cheeks as it twitches frantically.

“Swallow,” he demands, the grip around your throat tightening. He smirks when you gulp against his palm. The sight of you being so obedient must have done something to him because another rope of cum shoots over your face.

You shut your eyes with a gasp. Your tongue swirls around your lips to lick off whatever missed your mouth. Chan lets go of his cock long enough to collect the cum over your eye and cheek. He shoves his thumb in your mouth, a quiet moan rumbling in his chest as you suck and swallow.

He repeats his actions until you’ve swallowed all his cum. 

The tip of his erection pokes your chin, summoning your attention. Ensnared by the heat, it pulsates against your skin, hot and needy. You recall all the times you begged him to eat you out when you were in his position just desperate to cum, cum, cum all over that handsome face. You’re not surprised to find he is experiencing the same thing, with his endurance strengthened and sex drive intensified. 

“Do you want more?” You ask, hoping to bait him into begging. 

He sighs, lips breaking into a tired smile. “Not here,” he shakes his head. “Stand up for me?”

“Say please,” you say anyway. From the way you catch a hint of his wolf’s intimidation in his gaze, you can only assume the mischievousness of your own has surfaced on your features.  

Swallowing thickly, he concedes to your alpha, muttering through gritted teeth, “Please.”

You smirk and stand. However, your reign of control flatters as you find that your legs are still weak. He put a substantial amount of his strength into his previous thrusts in the hall. While you can usually keep up, the spiked dose of testosterone due to the heat has amplified his power. 

He wraps you in his arms, pulling you into his chest, before you can even reach out to and stabilise yourself against the bed. He kisses the top of your head, the act no doubt out of habit, and you regret to find that you melt into him. He does it again, and again, guiding your bodies towards the door.

As you make your way down the hall, his hands run down your back before grabbing a handful of both cheeks. You bite back a moan, risking a peek up at him.

A knowing smile plays on his lips. And his eyes gleam with pride and adoration. His grip becomes soft, hands cradling you against him.

You flicker your gaze down at his lips, so full and sweet. You don’t realise you’ve been tracing them with your thumb until you feel the cold tile of the bathroom beneath you. The humid steam from Chan’s recent shower still lingers, dampening your skin.

“Didn’t you just shower?” You ask as he leans over you to turn the tap on.

Chan smirks down at you, tonguing his cheek when you stiffen at the proximity of his lips over yours. “Yes,” he breathes, making a point to fan his hot breath on your face.

You gulp, unable to avert your gaze from his lips no matter how loud you mentally shout. Digging your nails into his shoulder, you attempt to recenter yourself, perhaps even work up the strength to create some distance between you long enough to remember that this is out of obligation and nothing more.

“So why—”

“Because I fucked my hand thinking about you,” he starts helping you into the shower.

He falls quiet for a moment, watching the warm water spray down your hair, over your body.

You lean your head back, letting the water wash away the despair and anguish of loving someone who cannot love you. You run your hands through your hair. Your eyes flutter shut. You embrace the heat, the comfort of the thickening steam. He knows how hot you prefer your showers, and endures them even if they’re “scotching.” His skin would gleam a bright red once you’re done and he’d sulk about it until you kiss every last blotch. You’d tell him to just set it colder next time, but he never does.

You’re not sure why someone, who would burn for you, is so content with hiding you. If his love for you is so strong he can stand for hours under “scotching” water, why can it not endure the withering judgement of his family?

Chan traces the outline of your breasts. You look back at him, his touch drawing you from your thoughts. He cups them gently, thumbing your nipples.

“I want to feel you clenching around me this time,” he whispers, brushing your nose with his.

He squeezes once, twice, and by the third, he uses his grip to shove you against the wall.

You moan the moment your back meets the cool wall, arching into him to escape the cold.

“I want you against this wall,” he lifts your right leg to rest it over his shoulder, “folded all pretty,” he lifts the left to rest it on his other one, “moaning and whining, just like you always do.”

You whimper.

His lips hover over yours, breath hot.

You shiver against him, unable to escape the cold of the shower tiles now.

He makes this so easy. He holds you so close, rubbing his shaft between your folds, nudging your nose with his own. He peppers delicate kisses under your jaw. He grazes the skin with his teeth. His fingers dig into the fat of your ass, keen on holding you up. You almost lose yourself hearing him quietly moan against your neck. His lips are so close to your pulse, you can almost feel the vibrations of his voice echo with your heartbeat.

He makes it so easy to love him, it takes everything in you to snap your eyes open and pull yourself out of the familiarity of the act.

“Fuck me,” you whisper, voice smoky and breathless.

Chan pulls himself away enough to meet your gaze, noting the slight influence of your alpha in your voice. His eyes still gleam a deep red.

You stifle your dominant wolf for a moment, yielding to his, as you try again. “Please? Please fu—”

Your breath hitches, words failing, as he pushes into you.

Chan tries but fails to hide his smirk. He watches your face scrunch in pleasure, your brows furrowing, nose slightly wrinkled and jaw slack, tonguing his cheek to suppress a cocky chuckle. He can’t help himself for long, however, breathing a little laugh as he dips his head to lick the drool now dripping from the corner of your lip.

Barely holding it together with how deep he reaches already, you cannot resist the loud moan that tears through your throat at the feeling of his warm, wet tongue dragging across your skin.

Your toes curl, legs trembling already.

Chan notices, throwing his head back to allow a full-fledged laugh to echo in the steamy room. The vibrations resonating off his chest and against yours are not doing you any favours either, your orgasm already gathering.

Your face grows hot, eyes water from the sheer embarrassment of your pathetic stamina.

“Stop laughing at me!” You attempt to order. The words are frayed, however, croaking with the thick impression of desperation and amatory.

It’s enough to snap him out of his egotistic stance and ram his hips into yours.

You scream– You tangle your fingers in his hair, gripping onto his messy, curled strands and scream. The pressure of his girth pushing through your tight walls, pulsating. The speed of his thrusts, the slam of his body, hips moving out and up right into you, so deep, so—

“Not yet,” Chan warns through a rogue growl.

You want to obey, you really do. You screw your eyes shut, hold your breath, and even clench tightly, eager to keep your orgasm at bay. But all it seems to do is encourage it.

The force of his hips become so strong now, your legs begin to bounce further and further along his shoulders until they’re just dangling over his forearms. You try to resume the position he so keenly put you in but cannot find enough strength to hold off your orgasm and move your legs at the same time.

Chan doesn’t seem to mind anyway. His pace, his force, even his depth does not falter. He moves just as aggressively, determined to use every hidden inch of you.

Your whiny moans stagger with each thrust, each one raising in pitch. Tears sting your eyes again. Your voice breaks. Cedar wood and peppercorn, wet and thick, invades your senses as you gasp for a breath.

You meant to say something— maybe his name, maybe even the beginning of a sentence you never intended to finish. But your words cinch at your throat, your breath hitches and fails, and your voice hits an octave you don’t think Chan would have been able to hear were he not a werewolf.

Your orgasm gushes around him. You only just hear the wet smacks of skin on skin as blood rushes to your head and disorients your mind. There’s a ringing in your ears; your vision blurs. You feel so light, your head so empty.

Chan holds you up, engulfing your body in a tight hug as he continues. You’re not sure how long it takes him but he eventually finishes, shooting ropes of warm cum deep inside you. His head nuzzles deep in the crook of your neck, inhaling and licking your scent as he rides his high, using you like a cocksleeve.

Then, he helps you stand. Your legs wobble, sore, and he holds you close. For a moment, you forget where you are and how you got here, you forget the heartbreak and arguments, you forget the regretful realisations and troubled truths. For a moment, it’s just you and it’s just Chan, and it’s just another shower.

It’s just mates.

And then the water runs cold.

There is something off about the smell in the hallway. It doesn’t merely linger with notions of someone in heat. Due to the effects of the blue moon, Minho can detect hints of desperation, despair. It’s as though there’s a strong yearning in the air, salty like tears and bitter like sweat. He cannot pinpoint it to an apartment though, the scent flooding the entire floor.

“Chan needs to open a window,” Jisung mutters.

Minho adjusts his grip on the grocery bags. “Maybe he’s not the only one,” he wonders aloud. “We aren’t the only wolves in the building.”

“Why is the smell only here then? Why didn’t we smell it when we came in or got on the elevator?”

Minho swallows thickly. He has known Chan for almost ten years. And while Chan does his best to hide his burdens and worries, Minho can always tell when something is off. There is always a certain rigidness in his posture or sharpness in his voice. He doesn’t smile as easily and there’s a tiny yet prominent crease between his brows.

Given the effects of the blue moon, Minho can also smell it. He can smell anxiety, uncertainty, misery. He can smell hints of fear, desire, and something pure, something whole.

“I’m telling him to open a window anyway,” Jisung sighs.

“Don’t bother him. He’s going through enough.”

“It’s a quick knock,” Jisung argues, “I won’t even go in.”

Minho rolls his eyes.

The smell intensifies around the apartment door. Minho begrudgingly realises that Jisung might be right. Chan does need to crack open a window.

Discomfort brews in his chest at the fact that this also means that his friend must be suffering. This does not smell like the usual mess of chaotically erratic and eager nerves, though. This smells of pain, regret and… heartbreak?

What is going on with his friends lately? Chan is experiencing a soul-trampling heat. You locked yourself in your room since last night. And you snapped at him this morning. He noticed you left the party hastily last night only to rush back and hide in your room. He asked Kai what happened, having caught glimpses of the two of you dancing earlier that night, but Kai was just as confused. Worried, he gently knocked on the door to check on you, and you barked at him to get the fuck out of your room. In all the years Minho has known you, you have never once spoken to him like that.

Minho and Jisung share a look as they stand before the apartment door. Minho sets the bags down. Jisung holds his fist up at the door, about to knock.

“Chan! P-please!”

Minho stiffens. Jisung spares a sidelong glance at him.

Is that—?

“Fuck, I can cum in you right now.”

“Please! Please daddy!”

Minho can feel the blood drain from his face. “What the fuck,” he whispers, taking a step back.

Jisung’s jaw drops. He frantically points at the door, looking between the thick wood and Minho. “That’s—”

“I know.”

“With—”

“I know,” Minho repeats in a hiss.

He should have known, shouldn’t he? You’ve both been acting weird, disappearing at similar times, having one-on-one chats that seem to end the moment someone else walks into a room. Your behaviour yesterday at the dome was an oddity in itself. You drove twenty minutes to see him after you knew everyone would have gone. And the smell in the air when Minho walked back in there… God, were you two fucking in there too?

Jisung holds his head, eyes wide, breath heavy. “I need to tell someone,” he whispers. “I need to tell everyone!”

Minho snaps his attention back to Jisung, watching him pace by the door. “Are you insane? They clearly don’t want anyone to know.”

“But we do know!”

“And that’s why no one else can know.”

“But—”

“Jisung!” Minho whisper-yells, cutting him off. “What if that was you and, I don’t know, Hyunjin?”

Jisung pauses.

“Would you want all your friends knowing and talking about it behind your back?” Upon Jisung’s silence, Minho nods over to his own apartment and continues, “Now we’re going inside and pretending like nothing happened.”

Sighing defeatedly, Jisung shuffles towards the other door. He crosses his arms over his chest and quietly asks, “Can we at least agree that this is crazy?”

Minho rubs his face. “Sure,” he mumbles before opening the door.

The smell of freshly baked cookies and brownies only momentarily refreshes Minho’s senses. He reveals in this sacred second of serenity before the collided smell of his friends’ pheromones attacks once more.

“Jesus, shut the door,” Changbin whines, covering his nose.

“I prefer Jisung.”

Minho glares at Jisung’s stupid joke, closing and locking the door.

“Someone tell Chan to open a window,” Seungmin says around a bite of his cookie.

“He’s definitely opening something,” Jisung whispers under his breath.

Minho shoots him a cautious glare as Felix asks, “What?”

“Nothing,” Minho reassures.

Jisung rolls his eyes. He inhales deeply before walking over to where Felix and Seungmin sit in the kitchen. Minho carefully watches him, straining his ears to listen to their conversation.

“Well, did you?” Jeongin asks.

Minho turns to find Jeongin standing in front of him, a concerned look on his face.

“What?”

“Did you see ____ on your way up here?” Jeongin repeats. “She went down to get her charger from the car like twenty minutes ago.”

Sparing a quick glance at Jisung, Minho replies, “No, we didn’t.”

Jeongin rubs the back of his neck. “I’m worried about her,” he quietly confesses, “She’s been acting weird lately.”

“I haven’t noticed,” Minho lies.

“Really? She literally yelled at you this morning.”

Minho catches Jisung shifting his weight from the corner of his eye. Keep it together, he thinks before turning back to Jeongin.

“Maybe it’s the blue moon,” Minho shrugs.

Jeongin nods. He looks at the ground, rubbing down his neck to his shoulder again and again.

Minho bites his lip. He squeezes Jeongin’s arm and offers a small smile, “It’s going to be alright. She just needs some spac—”

“Chan and ____ are sleeping together!” Jisung suddenly shouts.

Everyone is on their feet, walking towards Jisung or looking at Minho for confirmation.

“What?”

“Where?”

“How do you know?”

“Where are they doing it?”

“Are you sure?”

“Guys, where are they doing it?” Changbin repeats.

“Why? Are you trying to watch?” Seungmin sarcastically questions. “Who cares where they’re doing it? Why didn’t they just tell us they’re dating?”

Changbin furrows his brows, shaking his head. “Someone tore my mattress and Chan told me it was a couple from the party last night.”

“Did he say which couple?” Felix asks.

“No…” Changbin trails off as his terror settles over him.

Trying and failing to hold back his laughter, Minho shares a look with his friends. They’re all failing to contain themselves, merely stifling their amusement and averting their gazes.

That bout of fear in his eyes morphs into anger as Changbin clenches his fists.“It’s not funny!” He insists, stomping towards the door, “I’m going to kill them!”

Minho tries to stop him but Changbin is determined to get through, pushing around his friends. He yanks the door open, stumbling back from the scent. He regains his anger quickly, however, about to storm across the hall when your scream, only just muffled by the door, echoes around the room.

No one moves. Not a breath can be heard. Whatever humour once lingered between the group of friends disappears.

Changbin slowly shuts the door. 

The lock clicks. 

He stares at it for a second longer before turning around and returning to his place on the couch, muttering, “I think they’re busy.”

“Maybe it’s not what we think,” Felix interjects, defusing some of the awkward tension. “Maybe she’s just helping him through the heat?”

“He did leave around the time she was in heat a few months ago,” Jeongin agrees. “He said something about a trip to the beach.”

“What does it even matter?” Minho wonders aloud. “Who cares if it’s just for the heat or if they’re dating or if it’s just sex or whatever. Who cares? Why would they hide it from us?”

Jisung shrugs, “It’s awkward to talk about. I mean think about it— they know what the other does when they’re about to… you know…” he trails off as a chorus of disgusted groans erupt. “See! No one wants to talk about that.”

“Don’t be gross, Jisung. No one but you is that perverted,” Changbin chastises. “It’s obviously about Chan’s parents. They have been on his ass about marrying an ‘obedient omega girl’ for as long as I can remember.”

“What century is this?” Jeongin chuckles.

“They’re purists,” he continues. “It’s a whole religious or survival-type thing for them.”

Minho hides his shock with a bite of his lip. He didn’t know purists still existed, much less that Chan’s parents are believers. 

“How can it be both?” Hyunjin asks, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Because they are not worshipping anything. They just participate in a ritual of ancient practice,” Changbin answers. 

When Hyunjin’s face still reflects his confusion, Felix explains instead. “You know how, like, no one can find a mate anymore,” he asks, continuing when Hyunjin nods, “Purists think that if they mate an alpha with an omega, they can appease the moon into blessing our kind with mates again. So, they don’t worship the moon. It’s just an ancient belief our ancestors had.” 

Hyunjin furrows his brows. “But what about people whose mates are not werewolves? How do they explain that?”

“They don’t,” Changbin sharply replies. Minho notes the tension in his shoulders, the disapproval in his eyes, and wonders how many times Chan has spoken to him about his parents. 

This time Chan’s growls, distant across the hall, slightly tremble the walls, only just cutting through the conversation.

Seungmin snatches his phone. Minho parts his lips, about to tell him not to call or text when loud music fills the room. It mostly drowns out the travelling sounds from across the hall.

Looking around the room, Minho shares an uncertain look with his friends. “Let’s just get through the night,” he calls over the music, “And talk to them about it tomorrow.”

This should ease his mind, but Minho is only left with more questions. If you two are together, why were you dancing with Kai? Is that why Chan left in the middle of his set or why you locked yourself in your room all day? Whatever is happening must be more than sex — or at least smells like more.

Minho crinkles his nose at the thought.

Chan lathers his shampoo into your hair, his fingertips delicately pressing into your scalp. He runs his hands through the strands when rinsing. He then drags a vanilla-scented, foamy loofa in circles around your torso, arms and between your legs. You hold your breath as he carefully avoids the apex of your thighs. His eyes ever-so slightly gleam maroon at the scent of your sensitivity.

You meant to tell him that he doesn’t need to do this. You are more than capable of cleaning yourself. But your legs still tremble and you find yourself clutching onto his broad shoulders in a weak attempt to stabilise yourself.

And he’s just so gentle. He cradles your body close, brushing his lips against your forehead. He holds you like you might shatter at any moment. He holds you like he might lose you under the spray of the hot shower, like you might dissolve between his fingers. Your wolf whimpers deep in your gut at the thought of losing this. You were missing his tender touch all alone in your bed last night.

Still, you refuse to meet his gaze. You refuse to be lulled back by the sight of those big brown eyes and red tipped ears. You refuse to forget that this is an obligation— (the word becoming meaningless the more you mentally repeat it.)

The water cools again. Chan reaches behind you to adjust the settings once more. His scent screeds from under his arms.

Breath hitching, wolf whining, you sway into him. Fuck, you just need an inch of distance to gather yourself. If you continue to nuzzle into him outside the context of a heat-fuck, he might start to believe that all is forgiven.

“I need to lay down,” you mutter, peeling yourself off his chest. His scent consumes you once more, only it's wet. It’s in the air. It’s dripping from his shoulders, his torso, his pelvis, racing down his strong legs. It’s intoxicating, breath-taking, you stagger over your next inhale, nails piercing into his skin.

Chan shuts off the tap. He maintains a hand on your waist as he reaches some towels. He wraps his thick, grey robe around your shoulders.

You regrettably meet his gaze. He’s tilting his head down, attentively scanning your features for a sign of discomfort.

If he had bitten you, he’d be able to read your mind and know that you are struggling to contain yourself around him. He’d know that you’ve been gripping, by the fangs of your teeth, onto your anger, your disappointment, your heartbreaking realisation that he doesn't love you.

“I want a regular towel,” you whisper as if hoping he won’t hear it.

Chan bends down to properly meet your tearful eyes. “Are you sure?” he gently asks. “You like how comfy my robe is.”

Correction: you adore how comfy it is. It’s like being wrapped in a cloud of Chan. You would often dream about that robe when trying to fall asleep some nights when you’re particularly missing him. You’ve stolen it all of three times, cuddling into it before he would come over and take it back.

“How am I supposed to get clean?” he’d ask.

“I like you dirty.”

You’re about to ask for a towel again but find yourself already stuffing your arms into the robe. You curse the muscle memory of being in this position countless times before. His scent completely engulfs you and you stop trying to fight it. If this is going to be the last time you wear his robe, or let him dote on you, then you might as well enjoy it, at least while you still can.

Chan ties it tight around you, letting you lean into him as he reaches for another towel to wrap about his waist. You make it a point not to look down, feign interest in the wall tiles.

You expected him to help you out of the shower. You just didn’t think he’d lift you again. The strength of his wolf makes it effortless, but you thought he’d be exhausted after cumming as aggressively as he did. You can still feel the vibrations of his growls echoing in your bones.

“I’m gonna ruin your sheet,” you try to warn as he lays you back on his bed.

Chan smirks, “Promise?”

You can’t fight off the heat that rushes to your cheeks. You sink down into his soft pillows, remembering their comfort on stormy nights when he’d sneak you in and you’d cuddle to sleep. Things were so simple then. A secret was just a secret. Sex was just sex. 

Now, as you lay on his bed, drenched in his scent with him lying beside you, you wish you could return to those moments where loving you was not a burden.

It was easy once, wasn’t it? You remember that it was easy for him to sneak glances at you across the room, and risk teasing you in front of the others. His eyes would light up when you enter a room. You always thought that gesture alone would get you caught. When did being yours become so hard for him?

How many times do I have to tell you I love you for you to believe me?

The question echoes, distant yet loud.

Did he mean it? Was it just another symptom of the blue moon?

Hints of vanilla body wash fuse with his musky cedar scent. The spice of the peppercorn and freshness of linens soothe you out of your anxiety. For a moment, eyes fluttering shut, you pretend this is normal. You pretend that you spent the night here, that the guys are in the other room trying to stay quiet while you sleep in after an eventful night with Chan. You pretend that you always wake up in his bed, stretch out his clothes, and flirt shamelessly in front of your friends.

For a moment, you were never a secret. You hold hands, share food, go on dates within the county lines and kiss in supermarket aisles. It’s just you and Chan. No one else matters.

Thump.

The front door shuts.

You rub an eye open, sitting up. The room is illuminated pink and blue by the triangle lights above Chan’s bed. A blanket drapes over your robe-wrapped body.

You look through the gape of the door to find Chan, in black briefs, pacing around the kitchen. You’re about to push the blanket off you, curious to see what’s going on, when he quietly enters the room.

“Oh, you’re up,” he says, offering a gentle smile. Handing you a bottle of vitamin water, he adds, “Did I wake you?”

You accept, careful not to touch his hand.

“How long was I out for?”

Chan shrugs, “About two hours.”

As you open the bottle and take timid sips, the robe that was once securely tightened around you, begins to drape off your right shoulder. You notice Chan staring over the rim of the bottle. He tongues his cheeks, eyes becoming distant in his usual unidentifiable stare.

His heat must still have a tight grip on him.

“You alright?” you ask as you cap the bottle.

Chan nods slowly. He then circles the bed to lay down beside you.

You settle back against the pillows.

“You always smell like jasmine, sandalwood, and honey,” Chan announces. “It bothered me so much when we first met. I would get so nervous around you. I thought it was my wolf protecting me, like it was trying to warn me against you or something.”

You remember that first week in the apartment. Chan always sat farthest from you. He avoided your gaze. He talked to you only when he had to and usually used your friends as messengers.

“Jisung told me you have trouble trusting people.”

“Jisung needs to learn to keep his mouth shut,” Chan jokes, tucking an arm under his head.

You resist the urge to laugh. None of this changes the fact that he hurt you, that he couldn’t even promise to tell your friends about your relationship. Even if he sees how wrong he is now, even if he apologises, it does not change anything.

You are still a secret. He is still ashamed.

Your wolf whimpers deep in your chest. You roll your eyes at it.

“Why are you telling me this?”

Chan sighs. You hear him swallow before he asks, “Do you remember when you started dating Jeremy?”

You cast him a sidelong glance, brows knitted in confusion. “You hated Jeremy.”

“I hated Jeremy,” he agrees. “I hated it when you laughed at his jokes, I hated it when he held your hand, when you hugged, when you kissed, even when you touched. It made me sick. I hated him so much, Changbin had to ask me not to go bowling with you anymore because I made him too uncomfortable. Do you remember that?”

“God,” you smile at the reminder, falling back into your memories, “Friday night bowling was insane.”

Jisung and Hyunjin bickered. Minho kept trying to do trick-shots, which never worked and always mildly injured anyone who made the mistake of standing too close. Changbin shouted, Felix danced, Seungmin playfully mocked anyone in sight, and Jeongin always missed his turn, too distracted by his friends’ antics.

Chan always sulked. He lingered behind Jeremy, watching him bowl and then made a comment about his form. You noticed that Jeremy always stiffened around him, but you thought that was a normal interaction when it came to Chan. It was how you often reacted to his presence. You always stiffened when he entered a room or deigned to share a few words with you. When he bowled, however, you froze and gawked at how he sucked his cheeks as he pondered or rolled his shoulders back before finally taking his turn. You hadn’t realised that you were reacting to the bond or that Jeremy was threatened by Chan’s overbearing behaviour.

One Friday, Jemery bowled his first strike and Chan flipped him off. 

“He’s just competitive,” Changbin had to reassure Jeremy. 

You coddled his ego all week, repeating time and again that Chan was just a protective friend.

“Friday night bowling was torture,” Chan affirms through a little chuckle, pulling you out of your memories.

You turn to him. He’s already looking at you. 

“Chan—”

“I didn’t realise how much I liked you until I fucked my pillow, thinking about you,” he confesses. ��I watched Jeremy take you home one night and couldn’t stop thinking about walking over there and just pulling you into my arms instead. I wanted to kiss you in front of him. I wanted to bend you over the nearest table and show him how to properly fuck you. I knew from the way you talked back, he had no idea what he was doing.”

You bite your lip, pulling your legs closer towards your body.

Chan spares a glance at the gesture. A notion of a smirk tugs on a corner of his lips.

“I realised that all I ever thought about was you. You’re the only person I wanted to see. I would ask Changbin to check on you and stand nearby just to hear about your day. I felt pathetic. I even followed you around the apartment whenever you came over because I couldn’t get enough of your scent.”

You lick your lips, turning to look back up at the ceiling. “What do you want me to do with this information?” you ask, voice level, tone distant.

“I…” he trails off. “I just thought—”

“This won’t change my mind.”

“I’m not trying to!”

“It’s over!” you shout, sitting up as you look towards him.

He doesn’t move, jaw tight.

You sigh and dig the heel of your palms into your eyes.

“It doesn’t hav—”

“It does,” you cut off, sparing a glance at him over your shoulder. You rest your hands back in your lap, repeating, “We’re done, Chan.”

There is a beat of silence before he asks, voice raspy, “So, this is it? This is our last heat together? Are we even friends after this?”

Of course, we are, you want to say. You’re my best friend.

No one sees you like Chan does. He silences a room when you want to speak, he memorises your favourite colours, scents, textures and randomly gifts them to you. He’d send you things that remind him of you, once sharing a playlist he curated with songs he’d know you enjoy. Even before you started dating, he’d buy your favourite drinks and leave them in the fridge for you. He’d make sure you’re eating and even offer to drive you places. Though still standoffish, he’d let you corner him and talk his ears off about whatever bothered you that day.

“We will never stop being mates,” he adds in a faint whisper, as if thinking aloud to himself.

That sounds like your problem– the words are on the tip of your tongue, fuelled by rage from the injustice of it all. You’re the one who let me down first!

However, heartbreak arrests your voice. 

Do you even have the strength to be in the same room after this? Will you be able to look at him without your legs giving out?

Maybe you can try distracting yourself with someone else instead.

The thought leaves a foul taste in your mouth. You’re not sure you can stomach the scent of someone else. 

Oh god… what if he finds someone else….

You tremble, clenching tightly onto the blanket. How quickly will he move on after this? Do his parents already have another girl picked out for him? They’ve already tried to set up blind dates multiple times before. You’ve overheard enough phone calls between him and his parents to be sure.

“I see,” Chan whispers, taking your silence as an answer.

You swallow thickly as your eyes water. Shoulders slumped, head hanging, you draw in a deep breath, inhaling the comfort of his scent. The bed shifts with your exhale.

Chan sits up beside you. He brings a gentle hand to the small of your back. You feel the tips of his fingers trace delicate circles up and down, round and around your skin. And you hate how it makes your wolf flutter. You try and fail to fight the desire to lean back into his touch.

You meet his gaze, parting your lips to say something— anything, only to find tears gathering in his eyes as well. Skin flushed, lips full, wet and ears pink-tipped, he’s devastatingly beautiful. You wrestle every last nerve in your body to not take back what you said.

“I love you,” Chan whispers. His voice wavers with sincerity and regret.

Leaning in, you meant to only kiss him goodbye. You meant for your lips to momentarily press, and your parting to be official.

But those soft lips taste of his salty tears and your heart can’t help soaring from the bittersweetness of them. You break the kiss to lick at those tears again and again. You don’t realise you’re moaning until Chan pulls you onto his lap.

You straddle him because it’s muscle memory and nothing more, you tell yourself. You straddle him because you will never straddle him again after this. You straddle him to hold him close one last time, to feel his heart hammer against yours as your fated blood courses through your veins as one.

His tongue draws yours back into a kiss. You run your hands through his damp hair, gently tugging on his half-curled strands. He moans into your mouth like he did during the blue moon. His fingers press against the fat of your ass, pulling your hips down against his.

Hard, thick, his clothed erection rubs between your folds. You clench, instantly dampening the soft cotton of his briefs. He quivers with you. A deep growl crawls from the base of his chest and resonates against your tongue.

You can’t help your moan. You can’t help the jut of your hips towards him, again and again, chasing the opportunity to hear that growl one more time, to feel it.

He only groans, however.

Wolf determined, you pull off your robe. Chan breaks the kiss at the wave of your freed scent, now unobscured by the thick robe. He buries his face in your neck, sucking on the sensitive skin before grazing it with his teeth. His hands find a place on your breasts, cupping and squeezing them as you continue to rhythmically dry hump him. Cradling his head with one hand, your other drags along his back, leaving jagged, reddish lines in their wake. You then dig your long nails into his shoulder and steady yourself for a forceful thrust, putting your wolf’s strength into it.

Chan whines. He shudders under you, whining your name in a croaky voice that unravels something primal deep in your gut.

Your hips halt.

Looking down at Chan, you expect to find pride in his eyes. It took him a while to submit to you at the gym last night. He challenged every order, attempted to hide every shiver. Egotistic and cocky, he teased you for as long as he could. You expected him to be chewing on his lip to hold back a smirk, to be regarding you carefully, silently cautioning you from mentioning this again.

Brown eyes, big and round, sparkle as he peers up at you. His chin glistens from your spit, lips blotchy from your kiss. His ears flame red, shoulders slump as you graze them with your nails. His arms wrap around you, pulling you closer against him.

Defeated? Regretful?

You’re not sure what causes such a shameless surrender. And with his cock throbbing beneath you, you don’t have time to find out right now.

Lifting your hips, you order, “Take’em off.”

His hands tremble as he lets go of you. Confusion creases his features.

“What?”

“Now.”

Chan attempts to maintain your severe stare while looping his thumbs around the waistband to wiggle his briefs off. His breath hitches before he can kick them off his ankles, attention now consumed by your hand wrapping around his throbbing erection.

You thumb his oozing tip; Chan gasps.

You squeeze his shaft; Chan crumbles, breathlessly moaning your name. 

He grabs onto your thick thighs, nail-beds whitening from the pressure of his grip, and cranks his neck back to let your lips hover over his.

The suggestion of putting him in this position, at the mercy of your whims, was non-negotiable before tonight. He would have spanked you for it. He would have cuffed your limbs to the four corners of the bedposts and held a vibrator against your clit, teasing you closer and closer to your orgasm only to take it away when you were ready to let go. He wouldn’t have stopped until you were sobbing, promising never to bring it up again.

In truth, you would have only brought it up to receive a punishment that severe. You love the way Chan dictates order, commands control, especially when he wields it over you. The sheer thought has you biting your lip.

However, the Chan under you, allowing himself to remain locked under the cage of your thighs, fosters alpha tendencies buried deep within your gut. A pleased growl festers in your chest at the sight of him so willing, so broken.

“Where is the hard-headed alpha who wouldn’t let me tie him up?”

You don’t recognise your own voice, yet resist the urge to blink your surprise. You are well aware that it belongs to your alpha, but have never heard it sound so steady, so sure. While dark, the femininity of your voice cuts through like shattered glass— sharp and faintly lethal if injected in the bloodstream.

A trail of saliva leaks from the corner of his lips. You’re not sure he notices, or perhaps he just doesn’t care. He gawks at you, throat bobbing as he thickly swallows.

You run your free hand through his hair, softly scratching his scalp. You watch those big brown eyes flutter at the gentle gesture. Core clenching, you bite your lip to force back a moan.

Chan’s eyes snap open as you tug on his short strands. Astonished pride swims within his gaze as you stare him down.

“I-I just want whatever you w-want,” he finally answers in a breathy whisper.

“You’re the one in heat.”

“Not anymore,” he replies, shaking his head. “I don’t think so anyway.”

You hold his shaft between your folds, grinding against his length. Chan shivers, brushing his nose with yours.

“You don’t have the overwhelming urge to fuck me anymore?” You tease, pointedly nudging your nose with his. “Should I stop—”

“No!”

You remember that voice, that degree of pathetic desperation. You bite down on his bottom lips and pull as you align his length with your needy hole.

“Please,” he attempts to utter as you suck on his lip. You let go of it with a ‘pop.’ Eager to taste your tongue, he pulls the swollen lip into his mouth, eyes fluttering shut.

You tsk at him, lightly shaking his head with the grip on his hair. “There’ll be none of that,” you chastise. “Open your eyes.”

He wordlessly follows orders.

Because he’s been so forthcoming, and you really cannot deny your desires for much longer, you sink down on his cock. Exchanging breaths, you gasp into each other’s mouths.

Chan lets out a throaty moan when you completely seat yourself on his lap again. You can tell from the way his shoulders tremble, he’s doing his best to resist the urge to jut his hips up into yours.

As the neon lights in his room cast a reddish glow, the realisation of his beauty hits you all over again. His eyes sparkle with adoration, hot face flushes with desire. From his lips down to his chin, his skin glistens with unquenched hunger. 

You tease a roll of your hips.

He sets his jaw, rasping moans.  

You brush a section of his hair back towards his ear, the same way he often does to you. I love you too, you want to tell him. I love you so much, I’m debating on being your secret for eternity if it means I get to always be yours.

Instead you still your hips, resisting the urge to smirk when he quietly whines, and ask, “Did I ever tell you why he broke up with me?” 

Chan furrows his brows. “Jer—”

“Yes,” you quickly cut him off. “Did I ever tell you what happened?”

Chan shakes his head. He wraps his arms around your waist, smothering your breasts against his chest. He pecks the point of your chin and asks, “What happened?” like his needy cock isn’t buried deep within you.

You kiss his temple, petting back his hair before resting your arms on his broad shoulders. Then you rest your forehead against his, noses brushing, lips grazing as you confess, “I moaned your name.”

Chan blinks.

“I was trying to cum. He’s really sloppy and it was hard. My eyes were closed the whole time I guess,” you explain, voice shaking as his cock throbs against your walls. “I-I tried but I couldn’t stop thinking about you. It only felt bearable when I thought about you.”

His hips shift and you reactively clench around him. Chan groans, throwing his head back.

You whimper at the fullness, at the sudden onslaught of his scent seeping from his neck. Hands steady on his shoulders, you nudge him back onto the mattress.

He complies, unravelling himself from you to lay back onto his pillows. A smirk finds its way on his lips and he looks up at you.

“We should’ve done this more often,” he muses, tucking both arms under his head. “You look so pretty on top.”

Maybe it’s the overwhelming wave after wave of his scent, or that reawakened egotistic voice of his, but you decide that the time for words is over.

Gripping onto his waist, you lean forward and arch your back. Up and down, you bounce on his cock. Your ass smack, smack, smacks down on his thighs, pussy clenching around his thickness with each brush of friction.

“Oh my god,” you whine, letting go of his wrists to shift your grip up to his chest. “You’re so fucking b-big!”

Chan, hands freed from your hold, grab onto your ass, helping you find a steady pace.

“S-slow down,” he says, trailing his grip up to your hips. “I don’t want this to end.”

If you cum, you’d have to leave, you realise. Because this is over, this fuck will be your last. You’ll never get to revel at his size anymore, never get to whine his name or dig your nails into his skin.

You stop your thrusts and roll your hips around his.

Chan sits back up, pressing himself against you again. He hugs your waists and peppers kisses along your cheek and down your jaw. You write out his name with your hips as he licks at your neck.

“You misspelt my name,” he teases.

“Did not!”

“It’s a-n not u-n,” he corrects.

Putting your wolf’s strength into it, you grind harder onto him, respelling his name again and again. His legs tremble beneath you, growls turning into low chuckles.

Peeling himself from the crook of your neck, Chan gazes up at you, eyes gleaming with that unidentifiable emotion as he declares, “I am pathetically in love with you.”

You stop.

Chan holds you tighter. “I know it’s over,” he rushes to add. “I don’t deserve you, ____. I should have told them sooner. I should have told them when we found out that we’re mates. You shouldn’t have had to threaten me.”

You furrow your brows. “Wait,” you push his hair back to properly search his eyes. “What do you mean ‘told them sooner?’ Di-did you tell your parents about us?”

Chan swallows thickly.

“It doesn’t matter.”

“It does!” you shout, slightly leaning back.

The gesture causes his tip to hit a new angle. You cannot fight the strained moan that tears through your throat from the jolt of pleasure. You can hear him fight back a chuckle as he tries to keep you still.

“Do we have to talk about this now?” He asks.

Breathless, you ignore his question to pose your own. “When did you tell them?”

His cock pulsates at the new angle, making you tremble. This really isn’t the time for this conversation, but you don’t think you’ll be able to cum without this information.

Here you are, sitting on his cock for the first time, believing that it will also be your last. You are freely dictating your desires, allowing yourself to completely lose all inhibitions if it means you get to experience his cock before walking away from this forever. You’ve been wondering how to be friends, how to be around him after this and this entire time his parents knew.

You can’t continue without knowing how long they have known. Why did he let you believe they haven’t? Does he resent you for forcing him to tell them? Does he regret it?

“I called them after you left last night,” he confesses. “You were right about everything and I couldn’t live with myself knowing I have been treating you like shit.”

Tears gather in your eyes.

“I was gonna go after you but I got so sick out of nowhere. I wanted to throw up and eat my weight in chicken at the same time. Then I got so hot and cold. I couldn’t even move!”

You nod, knowing that feeling all too well. The tingle of your nerves, numbing your limbs the moment you lay down. Nausea overwhelms you and cannot possibly eat but you’re famished all the time. Clothes seem heavy but you’re too cold to lounge around naked. You usually become extremely active before becoming completely immobilised by your desperation to be filled though.

“That’s how it starts,” you confirm. The first week of your heat was jammed into a few hours for him. “You should have called me.”

Chan shakes his head. “I didn’t want you thinking I only told them because of the heat. You deserve more than that. You always have. ”

Swallowing thickly, your lips quiver as you ask, “Why did you let me end this? Why didn’t you tell me this when I told you it was over?”

“You were exhausted with me,” he shrugs, “and I wasn’t going to force you into something you didn’t want.”

His eyes water and, as he allows a smile to tug on the corners of his lips, you finally realise what that look in his gaze is. Once unidentifiable, you see it clearly for what it has always been: devotion, passion, worship.

You cup his face as tears fall down your cheeks. Chan leans in with you, eager to collide your lips. Your stomach flutters with delicate petals of heat. They bloom up into your chest, warming your body with a sense of comfort, familiarity and security. His tender kiss is a promise of protection, a declaration of devotion as his tongue glides along yours. You exchange breaths, share moans and grasp onto each other’s limbs.

Chan keeps one arm around you while the other rubs your thigh. You trail your hands from his face down to his back. As your hips begin to grind once more, you scratch at his back.

He hisses into the kiss.

You fight off a smile, arching your back to recreate that previous angle that made you breathless. Lifting your hips, you resume your shallow bounces on his desperately throbbing cock. His tip pushes against that soft spot deep within your core.

“F-fuck!” You whine, breaking the kiss to throw your head back.

Chan groans his pleasure and amusement. He drags his hands over the valley of your breasts before cupping your right one as he continues to support your back with his other arm. Despite his soft touch, he squeezes it firmly and sucks on your taut nipple.

His name trickles out of your mouth in a breathless moan. You sneak a glance down at him to find he is already looking up to you, the impressions of a smile on the corners of his lips. You push back his hair and he moans, vibrating his contentment against your sensitive nub.

“D-do you still want me to go-o slow?”

Chan releases your nipple with a wet pop. You tremble against him.

“I want you to bite me.”

You pause.

Chan tsks, and puts his hands on your hips. He moves your hips back up and down against himself. “If you stop again, I’m putting you on your back,” he threatens as he juts his own his up to meet yours.

Too stunned by his previous statement, you let him bounce you on his cock. You grip onto his shoulders, brows furrowed as you whine from the delicate friction.

“I can’t t-think—” you try to tell him.

“You don’t need to think,” he grunts as your breast brushes up on his tear-streaked cheeks from the force of every thrust. “Just bite me.”

You shake your head.

Those brown eyes are gleaming with notions of red. He’s drunk off the pheromones, possibly relieved by the fact that, based on your kiss, you are reconsidering the break up. He might even still be coming down from his heat. He doesn’t know what he’s saying.

“You don’t mean it.”

“Please,” he begs, voice breaking into a croaky rasp. “Please bite me, ____.”

Your breath hitches. You can feel his cock twitching. Is he just saying this because he wants to cum?

“Do it on my bicep,” he then adds, silencing your doubts, “I want it where everyone can see.”

You don’t remember summoning your fangs. However, judging by the way Chan doesn’t seem too surprised to see them, you assume your own eyes have been glowing red for a while.

“You’re sure?” You find yourself asking, gaze dancing between his left bicep and his face.

“A hundred percent,” he smiles.

You move your hair to one side, out of your way. Chan lays back down onto the mattress. You cease your thrusts to grind against him, recalling his previous threat. Grabbing a hold of his wrists, you hold his arms over his head.

Chan patiently watches you lean over him. Your heavy breasts jiggle against his face with every roll of your pelvis. The sight, the sensation of his thick girth pulsing against your walls for as long as it has, makes your toes curl. Remnants of the heat must be the only thing extending your stamina and endurance enough not to have cum yet.

As your teeth sink into his skin, a pang of euphoric anguish emits from your fangs. It resonates deep in your flesh, down to the marrow of your bones like the droning ding of a clock bell. All you hear is the hammering of hearts; all you see is the collision of veins, the entanglement of souls. You don’t mean to draw blood, you’re not sure if you’re even supposed to, but the taste of it solidifies authority over the foreign sensation coursing within your system.

Chan’s loud howl suddenly cuts through the powerful fog. His consistent withering beneath you pulls you out whatever trace you’ve fallen into. You retract your fangs to suck on the wound, licking away the blood as his wolfish genes quickly heal the area.

When you pull away, you find that you have stopped moving your hips, but you must admit that you are too consumed by the sight of the bite to care. Even healing, you can precisely make out your fangs between the other teeth marks now embedded in his flesh like a tattoo. It’s a pinkish red against his pale skin, blotching into a deep maroon as it attempts to heal.

His chest rises and falls steadily as you sit back on his lap. The jolt of friction between your hips snaps his eyes open. Red eyes meet your own.

Chan turns you over in a breath. He has you on your stomach in a blink. You don’t even feel him pull out of you. He just perks your ass up and shoves himself back in again.

“What did I fucking say,” he growls smacking your ass, “about stopping, you little slut?”

You whimper, wolfish nails tearing through his sheets. I was biting you, you want to shout. You were making sure he didn't bleed out. You don’t even remember stopping.

However, his thrusts are too forceful. He’s fucking the words right out of your mind.

Eyes rolling back, your body quakes. The knot in the base of your stomach, twisting and gnawing at you with every grind you previously rolled now becomes undeniably prominent. It grows as you moan, as he groans, craving—

“More please,” you weep, cheek smothered into the mess of pillows beneath you. “I-I need more!”

Chan tangles his fist in your hair. He uses his new grip to pull your back into his chest. One arm wraps around your middle, keeping you steady as he continues to pound into you. His other hand gathers your hair away from your shoulder. Lips soft, he kisses the nape of your neck.

You whimper, fangs poking out from your lips.

Maybe it's the smack of your ass against his hips, the wet squelch of your wetness, the thick scent of your sex, the heat of his breath on your sweaty skin. Maybe it’s the way he growls your name like a pitiful worshipper, thanking their lord for a blessing.

Whatever it may be, it manifests something primitive and carnal within him to snap.

And then you feel it— the blissful sting of a bite.

In the crook of where your neck meets your shoulder, Chan sinks his fangs into your skin. Where biting invoked sovereignty, being bitten provokes subjugation. An ache of euphoric agony pulsates from the infected area. Your muscles contract and relax with every breath Chan takes, your body submitting to the will of his. Your system almost resets as if a wave of ice water has splashed over your nerves. Heartbeat hammers, blood rushes to his pace, fogging your senses with him, him, him.

Chan retracts his fangs, licking the wound as you whimper in his arms.

You don’t realise you’re falling face first back into the bed until Chan readjusts his grip around your waist. He kisses the stinging bite wound, shushing you between your tremors and whines.

You wonder if you just came, the high of your climax rushing to your head and smothering your senses. You grip onto the rails of the bed frame, which were once knocking against the wall from the force of his hips, and sob his name between moans.

“It will hurt more if you don’t stay still,” Chan whispers, pulling you back into his chest.

The fullness of your core finally registers. You didn’t cum once, but twice. Chan had already cum with you, perhaps while he was biting you. And now you are locked in this position, both exhausted and weak, because he’s knotting.

You’ve never knotted, not with Chan, not with anyone. You thought it was as rare as finding a mate, knowing it does not occur unless both wolves are deeply connected and in the throes of their most primal instincts. 

“H-how long—”

“Just started,” he cuts you off, lips pressed against your neck.

“Is it supposed to hurt this much?” You ask, voice frail.

You feel Chan nod behind you as he inhales breath-fulls of your scent.

“I think so,” he groans. He rubs around your breasts to help soothe your trembles. “Just relax, baby.”

“You first,” you joke.

Chan breathes a laugh, summoning a smile to your lips. 

A comfortable silence settles over you. You want to turn to look at him, to press your forehead against his and stare into those dark, maroon eyes as he throbs and throbs and throbs against your sensitive walls. But even breathing sends sparks of lightning pain through your pelvis. All you can do is lean back into him as he licks and kisses your bite wound. 

“It already looks so pretty,” he whispers between wet kisses. 

You quietly moan before replying, “You didn’t let me get a good look at yours.” 

“Yeah, well you edged me last night,” he argues, “and warmed my cock for nearly fifteen minutes just now.”

“You were being cryptic,” you chuckle, only to quietly hiss at another pang of pain.

Though he’s smiling against you, Chan attempts to soothe you. He kisses behind your ear, tightens his grip around your waist, and gently rubs his thumbs against your skin.

You allow his scent lull you into steady, full breathes, and distract you from the faint stimulation of his pulsating cock deep inside you. Eventually, the twisting pressure against your walls gradually relaxes. A relieved sigh escapes you as your shoulders slump.

Chan swallows thickly. He takes his time pulling himself out of you and guiding you back onto the bed.

You clutch onto the soft comforter, curling your knees into your chest. Your bones still tremble, muscles still stiff and worn. The bed shifts behind you. You hear a shuffle of the sheets before a blanket drapes over your shaking frame.

Chan wraps his arm around you, pulling himself closer. “I will love you for eternity,” he sighs, kissing the bite wound. Then, in a near whisper, he promises, “I’ll make sure everyone knows it.” 

There is no room for doubt in his tone, words definitive. 

You rest your hand over his. Chests raising and falling in tandem, you reply, “That’s all I ever wanted.”

— — —

It smells of coffee and brunt blueberry pancakes. You wrinkle your nose, eyes squinting open.

Bright sunlight peaks into the room. A light breeze blows through the curtains. Sitting up, you look around at the torn mattress and sheets beside you. Despite the state of the bed, however, the room is tidy with your clothes folded neatly on Chan’s desk chair. A little smile plays on your lips. It’s just like him to clean up after a rough night.

Heavy breathes, hasty touches and whispered confessions, last night resurfaces to the forefront of your mind. You drift between contentment and relief at the memories. Reaching back, you graze your fingers over the wound. The indents of his teeth are still prominent and slightly tender to the touch. There is an obvious dip where his fangs pierced through skin. A part of you thought it must have been a dream, so you brush your fingers over the bite again and again. 

Still, it remains, faintly painful and heavy with promise.

You stand up, despite your stiff muscles and sore legs, to examine it through the mirror.

“I don’t want to discuss this anymore,” you hear Chan sigh in the other room.

Rubbing your eyes, you reach over to the chair for your clothes. You open the bedroom door while putting on your hoodie, expecting to be greeted with light notions of your chaotic scents from last night. However, with every window in the apartment open, candles lit and the smell of breakfast on the stove, you can barely make out Chan’s scent alone.

“Whatever,” Chan mutters as you shuffle down the hallway.

His bare back greets you, standing over the stove. He hangs up his phone, tossing it aside as he tends to his over cooked pancakes. 

Though you are sure you know, you still ask, “Who was that?”

Chan turns to face you, a sweet smile hovering over his lips once he takes in your dishevelled frame. “Not important,” he shrugs. 

You chew on your lip, twirling the hem of your shirt, before asking, “How upset are they?”

He lets out a little sigh. Turning back to the stove, he flips the last of the blueberry pancakes onto their plate then switches the stove off. You watch his back flex with each tense movement as he tries to gather his thoughts. You know this is serious, but you can’t help getting lost in his muscles. 

Then you notice it– the fanged wound on his bicep. Your knees buckle, breath hitches at the sight.

Chan snaps his attention back to you at the fraught sound, brows furrowed. It takes him a minute, but his eyes soon lock on the crook of your neck. A little knowing smile tugs on his lips. Exhaling deeply, he then confesses, “They’re furious,” he slides the finished plate on the kitchen island, “but I think it’s mostly because I avoided their calls yesterday.”

You’re not so sure that’s true. 

You don’t know Chan’s parents very well, but remember running into his mother for the first time a couple of years ago. She was dropping off a box of his old swim medals, chatting with him and Changbin in the living room. You came over to borrow Changbin’s foam roller. Your muscles had been particularly stiff that weekend and he told you to come by and grab it when you had time. It took all over two minutes but felt so much longer. The moment you walked in, Chris stopped talking mid-sentence and stared at you. 

“Oh, sorry,” you nervously chuckled. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.” 

“What did I tell you about apologising?” Chan asked, voice strained but firm. 

His mother blinked at him. 

Changbin rolled his eyes. He, like that rest of your friends, has gotten used to Chan’s abruptness with you. If anything, that was Chan being polite. 

“It’s in my room,” he said, nodding towards the hall. “Please don’t touch anything else.”

You hurried to grab the roller, the muted shuffles of your steps so loud against the silence of the living room. When you emerged from the hall again, Chan was already staring, as if he followed your frame to and from Changbin’s room. 

His mother was less than pleased.

“They just need time to adjust,” Chan reassures, pulling you out of your thoughts. 

“They never liked me,” you say with a slight shake of your head. 

Chan sighs. “They suspected that I had a crush on you. My mom always thought I acted weird whenever you were around.”

You smirk. “You did act weird.” 

“And you’re going to stand there, smelling like me, and tell me that you didn’t act weird around me too? Which one of us was caught sniffing laundry?” 

Your face burns, blood rushing to your cheeks. The memory of Chan finding you in his room, gripping onto a hoodie from his dirty hamper that was drenched in his sweaty scent flashes before your eyes. You tried to explain it away by saying that there was a terrible smell around his apartment and you were just hunting it down. The truth was you were about a week away from being in heat and he just smelled so fucking delicious.

Your knees wobble under the fixation of his darkening gaze at the reminder. Practically diving for the stool, you take a seat in front of the island and stare at the plates of food to avoid his cocky gaze. Eggs, waffles, jams, cheeses, and three types of pancakes clutter on the counter.

Desperate to change the subject you ask, “Feeding an army?”

Chan, ever so merciful, lets it slide, tonguing his cheek. “Something like that,” he jokes, reaching for the coffee pot. “Bin, Lix, Minho,” he lists as he grabs your favourite mug, “I got like six missed calls from Jeongin asking to see us when my heat’s over.”

Only now, as you watch Chan pour the coffee and splash in some creamer, do you realise that you told your friends you’d be right back hours ago and never returned. True, your excuse was weak and maybe a part of you did want them suspecting something out of spite for the way Chan had been treating you. But, you did not want them knowing that you left to have sex with him across the hall.

“Do you think they know?” you ask as he sets the cup in front of you.

Chan scratches the back of his neck.

Shit, you think at the sight of  his nervous look. “Please tell me they didn’t hear—”

You’re cut off by the front door opening. Jisung marches in with his chest puffed out and brows furrowed. He looks around as if inspecting the area before his gaze falls on the display of food. His eyes sparkle with intrigue, stern persona falling as he announces, “There’s breakfast!”

“Is everyone decent?” you hear Changbin ask.

Jisung seats himself beside you, already fixing himself a plate as he hums his confirmation.

Your friends spill in, attention consumed by the food. You get up from your spot to give them more space and linger beside Chan. He wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you into his side.

It takes a minute, but Minho is the first to notice, rolling his eyes. Seungmin catches the gesture and looks over at you. He suppresses a disgusted snarl, muttering, “You’re both sickening.”

You sip from your coffee to keep from laughing as Chan shifts his weight beside you. There’s no doubt in your mind, from the exasperated sigh that escapes his lips, he’s glaring at the pair of them.

Felix bounces his brows at Chan, much to his embarrassment and your amusement. Jeongin lets out a nervous chuckle and shakes his head, commenting something about how you’re both more dramatic than Hyunjin.

Jisung looks between you, takes another big bite of his eggs and mumbles, “I’m trying to eat.”

Hyunjin flickers his attention between the pancakes and waffles, completely oblivious to Chan’s gesture or your friends’ reactions.

Changbin sets his plate down. He stands before both of you with his arms crossed. “Which one of you ruined my bed?” He asks, glare bouncing between you.

You untangle yourself from Chan, burying your face in your cup as you walk towards Minho. Chan shifts his weight. He scratches the back of his head and lets out a little, uneasy chuckle. “So listen—” he starts, only for Changbin to cut him off, diving into a long lecture about respecting others' property and owing him the cost of a new bed.

“Why didn’t you tell me,” Minho whispers, pulling you away from Changbin’s theatrics.

You turn to find hints of betrayal swimming in his eyes.

“I didn’t like lying to you,” you reassure, “He just wasn’t ready.”

Minho nods. He averts his gaze to his plate before finding a place at the dining table by Hyunjin and Felix.

You furrow your brows, sensing his disappointment. He always makes sure you’re the first to know anything that happens in his life. Guilt festers in your chest. You make a mental note to talk to him about it later, you owe him that much at least.

“And if I catch you in my room again,” Changbin threatens. He points at you as well, tearing your attention away from Minho. “I will kill you.”

You roll your eyes. “Grow up, Binnie. It’s not like you were using it right.”

His face falls as your friends laugh. Clenching his jaw, he replies, “It’s my room.”

“Not that night, it wasn’t,” Jeongin jokes.

As laughter fills the apartment, you catch Chan’s gaze. There’s that look again— pure admiration and devotion.

Get over here.

You blink as his voice echoes in your mind like the chime of a fateful bell, ringing, howling.

note; please do not leave hate towards me or any other readers. please do not copy, repost, or translate any of my work.

[thisismeracing]

PLEASE write a fic/blurb about how to mentioned the idea of staying up for mick to get home after his long night in the sim and just cuddling and comforting him and listening to him rant 🙏🏾

I love it when you guys read my tags and bring something out of them hahahah ❤️ I adjusted the idea a bit, hope u like it!

Based on my reaction to the sim work video (here)

word count: 0.6k

pairing: mick schumacher x reader (she/her pronouns)

warnings: tooth-rotting fluff, not proofread, mentions of food, and lack of sleep.

It was past two AM when Mick got home after the whole day at the Merc factory doing sim work with the team. He was tired, although he had a can or two of an energy drink, almost giving up and adding a cup of coffee to the list by the end of the night.

The apartment was silent when he unlocked the door, most of the lights were switched off, except for a small lamp between the living room exit and the kitchen entrance, the flickering light illuminating the corridor that took him to the bedroom. Yn would always leave a light or two for him, and it warmed his heart, it felt like her saying she thought of him before going to bed, that she knew he would come home to her before the sun was up in the sky.

Mick made his way to the bedroom, stopping by the threshold. Right in the middle of the bed, Yn was sound asleep cuddling one of his pillows, her hair in a satin bonnet to protect the braids she got recently, her phone still between her fingers probably waiting for a message or call from him.

He smiled.

Nothing would ever beat coming home to her.

He was exhausted, his head pounding and his body full of knots, but seeing her there, just taking a look at her, was enough to lift half of the weight of the world from his shoulders.

Mick made quick work of taking off his clothes and climbing into bed beside her. Yn stirred when the mattress dipped and she felt the familiar warmth engulf her body. In her hazy sleepy state, eyes still closed, she extended her arms looking for any limb she could grab and hug. Her boyfriend chuckled lightly and positioned half of her on top of him, her hands quickly finding his torso and shoulders.

"What time do you leave?" she mumbled, pecking his chest.

Mick sighed, drawing patterns on her dark skin.

"In a couple hours."

"Wake me up when you do, we are still supposed to have breakfast together," she reminded the German and he kissed her forehead before weariness knocked them out.

It was just three hours later when Mick woke up. He tried his best to leave the bed without waking Yn, but the second his body shifted to move her, she opened her eyes.

"We can have breakfast tomorrow, Liebe, it's not a problem," he whispered, easing her back into bed, but Yn sat up rubbings the sleep out of her eyes.

"I can go back to sleep once you leave, let's enjoy our hour together, mkey?"

He smiled, and although the morning was a bit cold, his body and heart felt warmer than ever.

Yn helped Mick check all his documents and small stuff he tended to forget at home, and they cooked a quick breakfast together, all while he ranted about last night's sim work and how excited he was for the race later today. Yn listened attentively, eyes never leaving him. Every once in a while she would drop a comment or hmm in agreement, but Mick did most of the talking and she took the time to enjoy the gleam in his eyes while talking about what he loved, his relaxed posture though his body was visibly tired.

She loved to be on the receiving end of that passionate talk, especially when breakfast was finished and they sat in the living room to eat and cuddle.

When it was time Mick left for the airport and promised to text her as soon as he landed. She knew he would because he always did. And just like that she went to sleep with the lights on again, knowing that in the morning he would be back home to her.

taglist: @sachaa-ff @ferrariloverr @mellowpizzapuppy @kenanlotus0 @mickslover @dalsuwaha @formulakay3 @mishaandthebrits @iloveyou3000morgan @crimeshowjunkie @chaoticevilbakugo @carojasmin2204 @wondergirl101ks @smiithys

[twst-drabbles]

Octavinelle 16

Summary: You’re in bed. The sun was highest in the sky, bound to dip but you’re still in bed. You get up eventually, knowing there are seafolk pets relying on you to feed them.

(Decided to say fuck it to the funnies and write the mental state that’s been plaguing me. But yeah, just wanted to put emphasis on the fact that I'm not in a state of sadness. I just feel so tired with this constant fog over my own feelings. Oh and this is just over a 1000 words.)

You felt like a low existence, sinking into your bed sheets that haven’t been washed in over three months. There was nothing to mourn about yourself, felt useless to indulge in any sort of sadness really. A bother, basically, to try and feel anything beyond just mild annoyance at your own smells and the too loud and too bright things of the outside.

You look over to your phone, long since overcharged with sticky notifications of habits you’ve broken and missed. You haven’t swiped them away, telling yourself that you’ll get to them eventually but you don’t. You miss a day and tell yourself that it’s fine. That you need a break. Then another break. Another day of rest, another day of being still.

Day after day, day after day. You haven’t been on walk for half a year. You stopped during the winter because your shoes were torn to pieces by a teething Floyd and never had the energy to just buy new ones.

It’s not that bad, really. You’re still alive. You’re not rotting and waiting around to die. You still drink water, you still get a bite to eat, even if it is only enough to make your stomach shut up for an hour. It’s just…

It’s a bother, to wash yourself, to clean your teeth, to go outside and be blinded by the sun, to do the same things you do every day. And it’s a bother to try and do any changes. You just don’t have the energy.

You’re running on empty, and the empty have to rest, because it aches to try and do anything more.

You snuggled deeper into your sheets, piles of blankets on top of you, weighing heavily upon your entire body. And just so you can get more on top of you, you made your room even colder than it ever should be. Just made snuggling into the blankets all the more nicer.

You missed the seafolks’ first feeding in the morning. This was the first time you’ve done this, but you know them to have enough fat to survive missing one feeding. Will they be grumpy? Probably. Pissed at you, most likely. But you also know them to store away any leftovers in their little hiding places. They’ll be fine. They can let you rest for a bit.

The left side of yourself has gotten a little pinched, a bit numb. You closed your eyes for just a little bit and woke up to suddenly three in the afternoon. You’ve laid on your side for too long again. You felt annoyed and when you felt a pulse in your head and a tightening of your stomach, only then did you bother to push yourself up.

You’re tired, you’re hungry and you’re thirsty. The nap did nothing but made breathing harder and your eyes drier than anything. But it was enough. It was enough to get you annoyed with laying in bed. So you reached over and drank your water. You didn’t want to brush your teeth, so you just used your gulp of water to wash around your mouth before swallowing it. Then you drank water again to refresh.

You finished the bottle and tossed it in the overflowing trashcan filled with other empty bottles. You got out of bed and walked out your room. You didn’t bother with shoes or getting into different clothes. You’re tired as is.

The blood has finally reached your head and the pulsing came back, this time behind your eyes. You had to squint as you opened the door to seafolks tank.

You heard three distinct chirps, all much closer than you expected.

You looked to the back, seeing the tank popped open once more, then you looked down just as Jade and Floyd were bodied by Azul right before they could munch on your big toe. Ah, you haven’t clipped your nails in a while. You just noticed that.

Floyd’s little claws clicked against the floor as he struggled to Azul off of him. Jade’s usually behaved self was replaced with a growling little eel, his jaws clicking and gritting as he whipped his tail about.

“…alright,” you rasped out, putting a hand to the wall as you guided yourself to the food you stored away, “yeah, probably should’ve expected this…”

Azul finally knocked their heads together and made the eels behave. You almost wanted to laugh, but the feeling was too vague to make physical. It was only a twitch of a smile you gave out as you dragged out a bag of cold whole fish. You had a fridge stored in here since you didn’t want your regular fridge to smell like their foods.

You closed the fridge and carefully slid yourself down to the floor. Even that task was tiring. You can feel your heart pumping beneath your ribs. You had to lean against the fridge just to cool yourself down for a bit.

Azul, evidently proud of his defending of you, basically strutted towards you with a grumpy and limp Floyd and an equally grumpy Jade who was huffy, but behaving.

Azul finally looked at you, at your eyes and your greasy skin and unwashed clothes. He tiled his head. You ignored that.

“Hey,” you greeted as you ripped open the bag and watched them all perk up, “Sorry about that. Here.”

You pulled out the fattiest fish into the air. Floyd shot out of Azul’s grasp, but was grasped by Jade’s own claw. Jade pushed his brother behind him and shot after the fish. He clamped his jaws right into its belly and now you have both a fish and an eel hanging from your hand.

You gently set it down so he can rip it up in peace. Floyd, not to be defeated, sunk his teeth into the head and immediately started to pull it apart. Messy eaters. All of them.

You shivered as Azul pulled himself onto your lap. He gave a low whistle at you and opened his mouth wide.

“Ah,” hand-feeding, huh? He’s feeling rather spoiled today doesn’t he? “Here.”

You gave him something small just so he doesn’t make a mess on your lap. Fish smell isn’t exactly nice.

“Oh,” you jumped just as Jade and Floyd coordinated together to bring their meal onto your lap behind the munching Azul, “Oh, gross.”

Well, so much for that. Cold, slimy, your sense really hate you right now. Well, you suppose this is fine. They’re having fun and it’s not like showering is that bad. You needed one anyway. Well, no not a shower. A bath. A bath isn’t bad. You don’t think you’ll be able to stand that long anyway.

Well, you’ll get one right after you have something to eat. You’re kind of tired of snacks, so you might heat up some hearty leftovers. After everyone has finished eating. You don’t feel like leaving right now.

[canadianfangirl-95]

A Bahamas Bet

Frankie Morales fanfiction x f! reader

Summary: Going on vacation to the Bahamas with your friends could only call for sun, fun and a sweet vacation hookup. Nothing could ruin your enjoyable time, not even your childhood friend’s obnoxious army buddy, Frankie Morales. Right?

Original characters- Wendy (Will), Blaire (Benny), Sofia (Santi)

Two-part series warnings and info: 18+ Minors DNI, enemies to lovers, one bed left at the inn trope, alternating povs, Frankie doesn’t have a child, brief mention of therapy, reader nickname Birdie, alcohol, smut, protected p in v, hat stays ON, oral f receiving, swearing

Part 2 Word Count: 8k

Part 2

Saturday

Head pounding, you pull your tired body up in the bed. Rubbing your hands on your face, you look over to the other side of the bed and notice it empty. You can’t hear anything either, until the hinge of the bathroom door creaks, and Frankie steps out, already dressed for the day in a fitted black t shirt and cargo shorts, his signature hat perched comfortably on his head.

He comes to a stop at the end of the bed and rests his hands on his hips, “Well, morning sleeping beauty.”

You grunt and grab his pillow from beside you before throwing it at him. He easily bats it out of the way and smiles. “Feeling fresh and ready to enjoy the day?” He asks with far more gusto than you would prefer given your state of unwell.

Peering at him through hooded eyes you reply, “Frankie just, leave me here to rot, go get brunch.” You say, as you rest your head back down on the pillow.

Grinning, he comments, “Alright well, I uh- left out some water and Advil for you there. Thought you might need it.” He shuffles on his feet, trying to play off the incredibly thoughtful act as a moment of complete nonchalance.

 Pulling the comforter down off your face, you look at him and then the nightstand, “Oh, thanks Frankie.”

He nods, “No problem I’m gonna, uh- I’m gonna go catch up with everyone.” he says, gesturing to the door, before fumbling around with his wallet and room key and heading out.

Once you’ve finally collected yourself enough to run your drained body through the shower and pull a brush through your hair, you make your way to the dining room with sunglasses adorned on your face. You were still working on getting back to yourself after the brutal hangover you’ve been feeling and did not want to risk running into Juan without covering up the grim bags under your eyes.

Bennys eyes brighten when you approach the full table and he gestures to you, “Oh, there she is our beautiful and not at all dead looking friend.”

They all clap along with him as you wave your hands, conceding to his comment.

“Still look better than you Miller.” You say, sitting down and beginning to eat your pile of breakfast food you’ve collected from the buffet.

Blaire offers you a sympathetic smile, “Oh don’t listen to him, just start thinking about seeing Juan later and I’m sure your energy will come right back.”

“Mm, you’re right. We’re going to the beach today, right? Maybe I’ll get a nap in while I’m there so I’m nice and refreshed.”

Wendy taps her hands on the table and straightens up in her seat, “Right, so once you’re all done, I think we can head there after we’re all changed. Maybe some beach volleyball if you’re all down?”

The group gives their approval for the days’ activities and departs once you are done eating to get ready for the hot Bahamas rays and stunning waters.

Th sun scorches your skin as you lay your towel down on a reclined chair on the beach next to the girls. You pull your bathing suit cover off, revealing your tiny black bikini that shows every bit of skin that you’re looking to show off this weekend. Grabbing your sunscreen, you sit down on the recliner and begin to apply it on yourself. You see Frankie standing just to the side, apparently looking out to the water’s horizon, however, if you could see under the mirrored sunglasses he has on, you’d be able to see that his eye line follows every movement of your hands as you apply the sunscreen to your smooth skin.

Rolling over onto your stomach you gesture to Frankie with the sunscreen, “Hey roomie, could you get my back and shoulders?”

He gulps and tries his best to feign annoyance. “I see what you’re doing.”

“What am I doing Frankie?” You say, mimicking your innocence of yesterday.

He huffs, “Fine, but you asked me, so it doesn’t count as anything.” He says, waving his hands casually before you.

You pop your eyebrows up and down and lay back down on the recliner.

Frankie sits on the side of the recliner and wishes to all that is good in this world that your ass didn’t have to look that good in your bikini. He squeezes the sunscreen into his hand and looks down at your nearly bare back. Taking a deep breath, he begins rubbing the lotion onto your back and shoulders, trying to be mindful of the top of your bikini bottoms.

You let out a quiet moan that could only be heard by him, “Seriously?” He asks in a sarcastic tone.

“Sorry, just feels so nice and relaxing.” You say, giggling to yourself.

He rolls his eyes and finishes rubbing the lotion on you, patting your shoulder when he’s done and standing up from the recliner with a grunt.

A while later you’re woken from your slumber with a smack on your ass, you turn swiftly to see Sofia hovering over you, “Hey bitch wake up it’s volleyball time.”

With a groan of sleepiness, you get up from your comfortable position and make your way to the volleyball court on the beach your friends are situated at.

The game is certainly waking you up and making you feel a little more energetic. Wendy suddenly taps your elbow and points over to the water, “Hey isn’t that, Juan?”

Your eyes snap over to where she is pointing, you pull your sunglasses up slightly to look more intently and sure enough see the same man you were flirting with last night. Today though he is shirtless with short swim trunks. His tan chest was chiseled, and his 6 pack was undeniably sexy. Biting your lip briefly you give Wendy an excited look before turning your attention back to the man by the shore.

Raising your hand to wave, you are just about to call out his name when suddenly a THUD- in the form the volleyball strikes you right in the head. You turn and look with a shocked expression on your face to see Santi standing on the opposite side of the net with his shoulders at his ears and a grimace on his face.

“Sorry!” he yells over to you, waving his hand as an apology.

You nod your head and look back to the shoreline, where Juans stunning physique has now disappeared from. Chewing the inside of your cheek you look around for a moment before returning your attention to the game.

The music in the resort nightclub is booming and the crowd is carrying on with the same energetic dancing as the previous nights.

You and Blaire are situated in the middle of the dance floor after a few too many drinks enjoying the night. Your eyes continue to scan the room for your mysterious love interest, though admittedly, dropping back to Frankie in the booth. His hair is especially curly this evening, poking out of his hat after spending the afternoon in the water. His cheeks are rosy from being in the sun today and his black t shirt was open on the top 3 buttons, exposing the small patch of chest hairs. You are dressed in a tight red dress that hugs each and every curve with black heels that have straps around your ankles, and a special pair of black lace panties for your potential suitor that night. If he ever shows up that is.

A hand finds its way to your waist, and you turn swiftly in it, placing your hands firmly on Juan’s chest as he looks down at you with a devious grin.

“Hey beautiful, sorry I took so long to get here. My buddy is pretty much blacked out in his room right now, so I had to make sure he was alright.” he says, inching closer to you and wrapping his arm around you.

Smiling back at him you fumble with the buttons on his shirt casually and look up to meet his gaze, “It’s okay, I’m just glad to see you here now.”

You look back over your shoulder to discover that Benny had seen Juan’s attendance and joined his girlfriend on the dance floor. Subjecting everyone to his terrible white boy dance moves.

You and Juan fall into a comfortable routine of grinding against each other and sneaking back to the bar for shots, as well as stealing heated kisses, all of which had your head spinning. He was a nice guy, for real he was, but you knew it was just a vacation fling. He didn’t give you those butterflies that you knew you were supposed to have.

Finally, feeling the effects of all the liquid you drank, you offer your apologies as you exit to seek the washroom. He leans in and tells you that he’ll be at the bar getting some more drinks.

Feeling so much lighter and not having to squeeze your thighs together any more due to the incessant need to pee, you return to the dance floor and peer over to the bar. However, Juan is nowhere to be seen. You look around and sneak a peak at the booth your friends are at, but still nothing. In a huff you walk over to the bar, just for your elbow to be tapped by Juan over to your side. Your smile spreads across your face until you notice his worried expression.

He leans in with his hands planted firmly in his pockets, “Hey, I uh- I’m gonna head back to my room.”

You perk up and run your hands on his chest, “Okay, that sounds good to me.”

Juan slightly recoils at your touch and pulls a half smile, “Oh, no just by myself. It was nice meeting you, but uh- I don’t think it’s gonna work out. Have a nice night though.”

Before you can pick your jaw up off the floor he has turned and is heading to the doors. Your head spins from the alcohol and the complete 180 degree change your date has just had. Turning on your heels you go over to the dance floor where the girls are all dancing to the Britney Spears throwback booming through the speakers.

“Hey, what happened to Juan?” Blaire asks.

You shrug, “I don’t know. I thought things were going great and then all of a sudden, he bailed on me. I don’t know what even happened.” Crossing your arms you think back to the conversations you had and look for any red flags you may have put forth.

Wendy bites her lip and looks up in thought, “I saw him talking to Frankie at the bar after you left to go to the washroom, maybe he would know?”

Your eyes narrow in suspicion, and you excuse yourself to go to the bar. As you squeeze through the crowd you see Frankie seated on a stool with his broad shoulder facing you, looking up at one of the TVs. You tap his shoulder, and he spins slowly in the stool to face you, his expression dropping slightly.

“Hey um- this is weird to ask but did Juan say anything to you when you were talking to him. Like about me? He just left in a hurry, and I don’t really know what I did wrong I guess.” You say with your arms crossed and shoulders hunched forward, suddenly feeling very self-conscious.

Frankie swallows deeply and hums to himself, “Uh, nope he didn’t say anything about you.” Taking a drink from his beer, his eyes are somewhat sympathetic.

Biting your bottom lip you nod, “Oh okay, well worth a shot I guess.” You motion to turn but before you can Frankie interjects.

“It might’ve had something to do with what I said to him though.”

Your head whips back and eyes bulge, heat growing between your ears. “And what did you say to him?”

He smirks to himself and replies, “I told him that we were a couple, were looking for a third and that I was really excited to get to know him.” He chuckles and winks at you before bringing his beer back to his lips.

Head spinning, eyes burning you stutter out, “What, - what the fuck Frankie why would you say that?”

“Probably because his face was funny as hell when I told him, plus that guy was a total tool, you should be thanking me.” He responds with a smile.

Your emotions get the better of you and you shove him directly in the chest with both hands, “Dammit Frankie! He was not a tool he was a good guy. I can’t fucking believe you!” You turn on your heels and storm towards the exit.

Frankies eyes bug out and he quickly chugs his beer before slamming it down on the bar top to rush after you.

Your friends see the kerfuffle from their comfortable seats in the booth. All quietly wondering what was to come from this fight. Santi and Sofia give each other knowing looks before they all return to their evening.

All you could hear during your stampede to your room was the trailing footsteps of Frankie’s shoes and his meek calls for you to stop.

Finally getting to your room you slide the card in and heave the door open before whipping it hard to close. Frankie’s hand finds its way between the door and the latch to squeeze in and follow your step once more.

“Hey, come on are you seriously that mad?” he asks, with his arms spread and exasperation on his face.

You whip around to face him, placing your hands on your hips. “Yes, Frankie I am fucking mad. You had no right to do that. I don’t even understand why you would give a shit if I hooked up with him tonight.”

His face drops with his hands, “I don’t know, I just, fuck I don’t know Birdie.”

“Oh no, don’t even start with that Birdie shit. You have never once in your entire time knowing me used my real nickname so don’t start now.” You turn your attention to your suitcase and begin throwing items into it.

“What are you doing?” He asks, watching your fumbled state.

Not even looking over your shoulder you reply, “Getting the fuck out of this room. Have fun cuddling Santi tonight.”

Frankie steps inward and crowds you, “Come on don’t do that. Just talk to me, why are you leaving.”

You turn quickly in your spot, standing now just inches from him. Raising your head to speak directly into his face. “You wanna know why? Fine, you are the biggest narcissist I have ever met.” You begin, counting out on your fingers your reasons. “You ruined my date, and my vacation. And you’re too busy wallowing in your own self-pity to realize how your actions affect other people. Are those enough reasons to leave?”

He sucks his teeth and looks down at you, “Are there any reasons to stay?” he asks calmly.

“Hm, not that I can think of. Can you think of one?” You ask sarcastically, glaring at his deep brown eyes.

In an instant his mouth crashes into yours. Your eyes bulge as you take in the moment, before quickly falling victim and wrapping your arms around his neck. He grabs your hips and pulls them in closer to press against him. It’s all tongue and teeth as you devour each other next to the mini fridge of your hotel room. He slides his hand into your hair to pull your head back, granting him access to nip and suck at your neck as you moan and run your hands through the hair at the nap of his neck.

He turns you on your feet and backs you up until your knees hit the edge of the bed, before pushing you down flat on it. He leans down and grabs your heel to pull it up to his chest and begins pulling the straps off them, peppering kisses along your ankle. Moving to the other. His drunken hands fumble with the clasp, “Fuck sakes you had to choose the most complicated shoes.” He mumbles under his breath.

You roll your eyes, “Shut the fuck up and get down here.”

He eyes you with raised brows and pulls the shoe off your foot before taking his hat in his hand and pulling his shirt up and over his head, placing his trusted hat firmly back on his luscious curls. You bite your lip as you watch him unhook his belt and pull his shorts down, kicking off his shoes in the process.

You widen your legs for him, and he trails his hands up your thighs, sneaking them slightly under the hem of your dress. You rise up on the bed and pull the straps off your shoulders to begin shimmying the dress down your body. He rubs your legs as his eyes widen, watching your plump chest fall free from the fabric of the dress as you continue to scoot it further down your body. His hands raise to grab the material from you, and you lift your hips to allow him to pull it the rest of the way down your body, leaving you bare save for your lacey panties.

He runs a finger lightly over the fabric on your folds, “These were for him then?” he asks quietly.

You nod slowly, he grins and comments. “I guess his loss is my gain then.”

You inch up on the bed as he follows you closely, climbing over your body and launching down to capture your mouth with his teeth. Your hands explore every inch you can reach as you urge him forward. Hips bucking up to seek friction against his hardening length.

He breaks off and looks down between the two of you, “Needy huh?”

Shaking your head with frustration you pull at his curly locks, “Can you just fuck me already?”

His smirks and leans back on his haunches to grab your panties and pull them down your legs, before rolling onto his side and side his boxers down.

When he returns to his position you both drop your gazes. He licks his lips, looking down at your wet pussy, just dripping for him and your eyes pop at the sight of his cock. Long and girthy, a sensational feeling creeps up your spin as you admire his length.

He looks at you, “Did you happen to bring any-,”

“Oh, fuck, yeah just in my nightstand.” You say, pointing over to the table situated beside the bed.

He nods and reaches over to the nightstand to pull out and roll the condom firmly onto himself.

Widening your legs for him he leans back down to bring you into another kiss, reaching down between the two of you to guide his cock into your entrance. The first few pushes burn with the stretch, but it feels too good to slow down. He continues his pace until he bottoms out in you, both of you letting out an agonizing moan as you take in each other.

“You okay?” he asks.

Nodding you reply, “Yeah, yeah fuck, Frankie just move I need to feel you.” Your tone almost begging.

Frankie smiles and begins moving his hips back and forth against you, your eyes roll back at the feeling, and he leans down to capture your nipple in his mouth. Biting it tightly as he slams into you at a pace you haven’t experienced before.

He breaks away momentarily to mutter under his breath, “Can’t believe we’re doin’ this.”

Moans escaping your mouths as the top of his cock presses against your clit with each devastating roll of his hips. You bring him back up to your mouth to pull at his lips with your teeth as he continues to move into you. Deep breaths and the slapping of skin is all that can be heard as the two of you take in each other’s bodies. He lays flat on you, and you wrap your arms around his neck to squeeze as your walls clench around him, sending the most incredible waves up your body and causing your chest to arch into his. He hums at the feeling and then lets out an animalistic grunt as he presses forward one last time, filling the condom inside you.

He stills and rests his head against yours, both of you breathing deeply. “Fuck, what was, fuck was that?”

You giggle under your breath, “I don’t even know.”

Frankie drags his tired body off you and heads to the bathroom. You slide under the sheets and close your eyes, head still spinning from the alcohol and the intense orgasm you just had.

He comes back and lays down next to you resting his arm behind his head and staring up at the ceiling. “Do you uh- do you wanna talk about that or-,”

“No, no Frankie I just, mmm I need to sleep. I’m still too drunk.” You say rolling over on your side and snuggling next to him.

He grins to himself, looking down at your sleepy state, “Okay baby, get some sleep.”

Sunday

Eyes creeping open, you once again feel the weighted body of Frankie against your back and his arm slung over your side. Your annoyance ringing in your ears before the events of last night and your current state of undress crash into you like a freight train. You don’t move, don’t breathe too heavily, as if not engaging in the truth or awakening the world with your presence would somehow make what happened last night not real. Did you want it to be real? No, how could you possibly, he’s an ass, always has been. Last night was just a drunken mistake. Was it? It did feel amazing, and you could’ve stopped it any time, but you didn’t. Have you secretly been thinking about the possibilities since the beginning of this forsaken bet? All these questions swirling around your aching head makes your eyes squeeze shut again, desperately trying to drown out the light and the consequences of your actions.

As if feeling the tension literally emitting from your body, Frankie begins to roll over and move his arm off of you before waking himself. You hold still in the position you are in, pulling your covers close to your chin and hoping he might not see you.

He rubs his eyes and peers over at you, “Mornin’” he says with a groggy voice.

Slowly rolling over onto your other side with a shy smile you look at him with your head rested firmly on the pillow, “Hey.” You whisper.

Frankie rolls onto his side and places a warm hand on your arm that is holding the comforter tight to your neck. “You okay?”

Pulling your mouth into a thin line you nod, “Yeah, just uh, - don’t really know where to go from here. Or what it meant.”

“Yeah, that’s uh, I think a bigger conversation after some coffee.” He smiles, rubbing tiny circles in your arm with his thumb.

You nod and rise out of bed, both of you getting ready silently but politely. Holding the door to the bathroom open for each other, him handing you your sunscreen from the table when you were fumbling in your bag looking for it, you making the bed including his side.

The two of you walk beside each other down to the buffet for brunch, no words, just a comfortable silence. It doesn’t feel like even small talk would be safe until you have a chance to properly talk.

After collecting your much-needed coffee and food, you both sit down at the table with your friends and they all examine your faces, wondering where you stood after last night’s fight.

Wendy rubs your arm sympathetically, “Hey, how you doing? What happened last night?”

Frankie clears his throat to defend you before you interject, “I’m fine, last night was a total misunderstanding. Sorry if I worried you guys.” You say, offering a half-hearted smile.

Benny crosses his arms and leans back, “But like, what made you wanna go round for round with Fish here?”

Biting your bottom lip and looking at Frankie’s deep brown eyes, filled with concern you straighten up and reply, “I thought Frankie ruined my date when he talked to Juan, but I was wrong, he explained himself when we got back to the room and he was right, that guy wasn’t right for me. I didn’t need him, don’t need him.”

Frankie’s face pulls into a short smile, trying to stifle his apparent joy at your story.

Blaire smiles, “Well, I hope you two are still okay if we break off for our couples day today.”

Nodding you reply, “Oh of course, you guys go and enjoy your days. I’m sure we’ll be fine.”

Santi grins to himself and slaps his hands on his thighs as he rises up, “Alright well, if you’ll excuse us, I have a date with my lady and a waterfall.” He says, taking Sofia’s hand and helping her up before waving to the group and departing.

The other two couples stand as well and say their goodbyes, leaving you and Frankie staring down at your plates of food and steaming coffees.

You eat in silence, a million questions racing around your mind with each bite of your toast. Upon finishing your plate, you lean back in your chair to check your phone. Looking at your calendar you’re reminded of something you unfortunately forgot. “Hey, Frankie um, - I’m really sorry but I booked a massage for this morning since I knew they would all be busy. I can always cancel it if-,”

He waves his hands causally towards you, “No, no please go. We can catch up later.” he says, breathing deeply out of his nose.

You smile and nod before getting up and heading over to the spa. During your walk your feet feel like they’re floating and you’re still slightly dizzy from the events of the weekend.  Rounding the corner to the spa you look to your right and catch a sight of Juan standing near the checkout desk. He spots you and quickly turns on his feet to face another direction.

Pulling your lips tight to your teeth you huff out of your nose. Yep, that seems about right, you think to yourself. A relaxing massage is exactly what you need to hopefully shut your mind off for a while.

A while later you leave the spa with your body and mind more relaxed. Your hangover has disappeared, and your energy returned, ready to take on whatever the rest of the day called for. While still nervous, you didn’t know what Frankie would think about what happened last night. He has never once shown interest in you during these few years. Was it purely physical or was there more. If there was more, was there more on your side? How would your lives fit together you thought. He lived in the same city as you, had the same friend group as you, partook in the same activities on the weekend as you. Really, your life has been blended for years now. He has a good job and so do you, it seems like it could come together seamlessly. However, there’s still the nagging feeling that is crawling up your neck each time you consider a relationship with him. That feeling comes of course from the relentless taunting and bullying you’ve received from him. You’re tough in the skin and it never bothered you but is that still the type of person you would want to build a life with, having had such a bad foundation to form on.

As your mind drifts in and out of uncertainty, your eyes are unfocused as you turn a corner and come crashing into none other than Frankie Morales.

“Oh, shit sorry.” You exclaim, trying to steady your footing.

He grins down at you and grabs his hat to scratch his head, “Hey, that’s okay I um should’ve been watching where I was going. A little lost in thought I guess.”

You nod and clasp your hands firmly together in front of you, “Hm, yeah, me too I guess.”

Taking a deep breath, he asks casually, “How was your massage?”

“Good, good thanks for asking. Definitely relaxing.”

“That’s good.” He says, both of you drowning in the undeniable awkwardness of the moment.

Frankie clears his throat before asking, “Do you wanna, go for a walk? I saw a trail over at the end of the beach that looks nice.”

Accepting the time has finally come for your talk, you agree and begin the walk towards the beach.

Sun beating down and waves crashing in, the beach is filled with fun seekers and tanners. They all look to be having such an easy-going time compared to yourself whose stomach has not stopped twisting since your sandals hit the warm beach.

You and Frankie remain in your quiet state until he finally finds the trail head and starts down it. He looks beside himself at your flushed chest and chewed lip that you’ve been worrying since you left the spa. “I don’t, really know how to start this I guess.” He says, placing his hands in the pockets of his plaid shorts.

Grinning slightly, you look up at him, “Yeah me neither.”

“I guess, I should first just apologize for what happened with Juan last night. I really am sorry.” he says, looking around at the foliage of the trail.

“Oh right, uh thank you. I appreciate that.” You say before thinking further, “I guess my question from last night was never answered so -,” you trail off, hoping he understands where you’re coming from.

He nods, “Yeah, that I don’t entirely have an answer for I guess.” He scratches the thin patchy beard spread across his chin. “I guess I was just threatened by him and didn’t like the idea of you going home with him, or anyone else really.”

His admission came as a shock, still unclear as to why he had such feelings. “Why did that bother you? I mean, we go to bars together, we’ve both seen our fair shares of one-night stands. It didn’t seem to bother you before.”

“Yeah, I know. Um, just felt different I guess.” he says quietly.

“Different how?” You ask, crossing your arms and growing slightly frustrated.

Taking a deep breath, he pinches the ridge of his nose and thinks. “Sorry, I haven’t done this in a while.” He begins.

“Done what?”

He smiles softly, “Talked about, - talked about my feelings. For someone.”

You take a deep breath in your nose and twirl your thumbs together, still slowly making your way down the trail. “Is that what we’re doing here? Talking about our feelings for each other?”

Before he can reply he looks forward at the scenery the trail has led to. A cascading waterfall atop a simple flowing stream and wildflowers all about. A single two-person bench sits quaintly near the edge of the water.

You laugh to yourself looking around, “Huh, figures. The waterfall for lovers.”

He grins and then offers his hand to you; you look him in the eyes before taking it and allowing him to lead you to the bench.

Frankie sits and rests his elbows on his thighs, taking deep breaths and looking at the water toppling down the cliff side. He turns his head to look at you, “Ask me again.” he says.

You look at him confused, “Ask what again?”

He clears his throat, “Ask me again why I always treated you the way I did. Like you were annoying.”

Biting your lip, your voice comes out as quiet as a church mouse, “Why?”

Frankie’s breath comes out like it hurts, “Because, I thought if I pushed you away like that then it would be easier. I liked you as soon as I met you, but I just, I was a mess when I was discharged, and I didn’t want to burden you with all that. I wasn’t ready for whatever this could be. So, I thought if I didn’t get close to you then I wouldn’t have to worry about you developing feelings for me. Making you hate me seemed better than disappointing you.”

It was heart wrenching hearing Frankie speak so highly of you and so poorly of himself. Floods of emotions came, and you had to know more about what you were considering at this moment. “What about now? Are you ready now?”

“Now?” he began, “Now, I have a steady job and a therapist that helps me take care of my mind. I have friends who are all happy and have moved on from everything we went through in the service. Now, I’ve spent 72 hours with you and during that short time you managed to break through all the walls I had built and the cage I put myself in.”

You want to respond, want to apologize that you may have pushed him too far, especially with the bet, and that you could give him more space, but he continued before you could pull the strained voice from your throat.

“I think I am ready now. I think I’ve worked hard these last few years to become a man you deserve. I think you deserve the world, I really do, and while I can’t give you that, I’m hoping I may be enough.” His deep brown eyes well up with emotion and he tries not to look directly at you.

Your chest tightens and your breath stops. This isn’t the Frankie you knew, no, this is new. This Frankie is different. This Frankie doesn’t have sharp edges or a quick wit. This Frankie, this Frankie is one you could fall in love with.

“Frankie, I have been extremely surprised by you this weekend. I have yelled at you, laughed with you, and experienced things I didn’t think were possible. I’m gonna need some time to catch up, because up until a few days ago, I absolutely hated your guts.” You and he both laugh for a moment, and he takes your hands in his. “But, if you’ll allow me the time, I’d like to try to catch up to where you are, because I really like you and I want to see where this could go.”

His eyes lighten and his smile beams, “Shit really?”

Nodding you reply, “Yeah, I guess Fish and Birdie do kind of go together anyway.” You beam and he matches your expression.

Frankie wraps his arms around to bring you into a tight embrace and you stay there still, him holding you and you listening to his rapid heartbeat.

“You know, if I weren’t such a nice person, I might count you confessing your love for me as making a move.” You say giggling to yourself.

He lets out a chuckle, “I think I already lost the bet last night when I kissed you.”

“It’s okay, I won’t count that either. We can split the room, and you can just owe me like 50 dinner dates.” You say pulling yourself out of his arms to lean in and plant a loving kiss to his lips.

“Deal. Now that I’m sure the waterfall worked its magic, we should head back.” He says, taking your hand again and helping you off the bench.

Your mouth gaps, “Did you know this was down here?”

His face grows embarrassed, “Uhhh, yeah, I did. I figured I needed all the help I could get.”

You laugh together and take his hand in yours, traveling back down the path.

“You didn’t completely hate my guts, right?” he asks inquisitively.

Rolling your eyes you reply, “Oh big time. Couldn’t fucking stand you.”

Frankie’s mouth drops in fake offence. You continue, “But, I did think you were cute and may have daydreamed about you a little.”

He smiles and pulls you in to wrap his arm around your waist, “I’ll take it.”

Returning to your room you look at the bed, the scene of the crime. You still haven’t spoken about that part of the situation yet and just thinking about it makes your core ache for more.

Frankie spots your eyeline and follows it to the bed, both of you standing near the edge facing each other and holding hands. He looks back at you, “I didn’t know when would be a good time to talk about, that whole thing. It was a bit impulsive on my side and I’m sorry if it was too soon.”

You shake your head, “No, no it’s okay. It was definitely unexpected, but I don’t regret it at all.”

Nodding he bites his lip, “So uh, what the fuck was that all about then?” he asks, his tone changing to a humorous laugh.

You match his laugh, “Fuck I literally don’t even know. Was it as good for you as it was for me?”

“Pfft, fuck, it was incredible. I can’t wait to see how it feels when I’m not hammered and can actually take my time.” He says, smiling at you, the lines on his face shining brightly with his expression.

You both look over at the bed again, chewing the inside of your cheek, before looking back at each other.

Moving as one, you close together and bring your hands to his face and his on your waist. Encapsulating each other in a heated kiss. His tongue pushes against your lips, which you happily encourage with your own tongue. You quickly become impatient and begin pulling at each other’s clothing. Unbuttoning his shirt as fast as your fingers can manage while he pulls at your shorts and pushes them down your legs. Once you’ve sufficiently rid yourselves of your clothes, save for Frankies hat, he turns you and sits you down on the edge of the bed.

“I’m gonna take care you baby alright?” he says, kneeling down and kissing the inside of your thighs as you lower your body flat on the bed and spread your legs for him. He swiftly turns his hat backwards and hums as he swipes a finger through your slick folds, “I didn’t get a good look at you last night, you have the most perfect pussy I have ever seen.”

“Oh stop, you’re just saying that.” You say with a giggle.

“Does this make you feel like I’m lying?” he asks, before diving in like a man starved of food for weeks.

Your back arches immediately as he expertly takes you apart with his tongue. Bouncing around between your entrance and clit. Your moans permeate the room with each swipe. Before you can even realize what’s happening, the string in your core is snapping and your orgasm is rushing through you. Frankie can feel your pussy plump out for him, and he quickly slides two fingers into your entrance for you to clamp down on. The sudden intrusion descends you into another wave of your orgasm. Hands grasping desperately at the bed spread, breath deep, you finally come down from you transcendent high.

He licks one last agonizing stripe up our folds to your sensitive mound and begins to crawl up the bed to you. “Taste so sweet baby.” He says before latching his mouth to yours.

You take his face in your hands and taste your pleasure on his mouth and mustache. You scoot out from under him and urge him to lay down flat on the bed. “I wanna ride you baby.” You say breathlessly.

He bites his lip and moves on the bed, before he can lie down you reach down to his head and pluck his hat off, planting it on your own backwards. He growls at the sight and steals a passionate kiss before accepting his position as pillow princess.

You reach over to the nightstand and hand him a condom. He rolls it on, and you sit up on your knees over top of his hardening length. Taking him in your hand you swipe him through your dripping folds, before slowly lowering yourself down on him. Each inch sending pleasure through every nerve of your body.

“Fuck, baby, taking my cock so well look at you.” He says, grabbing your hips tightly, no doubt to leave bruises for him to kiss tomorrow.

Bottoming out you let out a primal moan and place your hands firmly on his chest. “Oh, you feel so good.”

“Yeah? Show me how good I feel inside you.” He says through gritted teeth, slowly rocking you on his thick cock.

You raise up and down on him and every time it feels better than the last. Over and over again until you’re both panting from pleasure and overwhelmed. He reaches up and presses his thumb to your clit, so you roll your shoulders back and place your hands behind you on the bed to expose more of yourself to him. Your breasts bouncing with every movement and your head rolling back as your break approaches.

He watches you intently, as if you were a masterpiece in a museum, “Wanna see you come on my cock baby. You look so good when you finish.”

A few more sharp circles of your clit with his thumb and you’re stuttering, “Fuck, Frankie I’m gonna-,” is all you can manage before you begin squeezing him within an inch of his life. He follows immediately after, rutting up into you while he moans from his own bliss.

After a minute of deep breathing and eyes trying to roll back to normal you finally climb off of him and toss his hat off your head. He kisses your cheek before heading to the bathroom to clean up.

He rolls back into the bed with you and pulls you close to rest on his chest, “Mmm, that was great.” He says kissing your head.

“I’m so tired after all that, wanna take a nap?”

“Sounds good to me.” He says.

Hours later you’re awoken by your phone ringing, just missing the call you roll over and peer at the screen. “Fuck.” You exclaim.

Frankie jolts awake and looks at you, your eyebrows furrowed reading your messages. “What’s wrong?”

“That was Sofia trying to call me, looks like she texted me too. They headed down to dinner a while ago.”

He chews his lip and eyes your still naked body, “Would I be a total dick if I said I just wanted to stay here for the rest of the night?”

Turning in the bed with a mischievous look you ask, “No, but whatever would we do with all that time?” with a wink.

“Oh, I can think of something.” He says, leaning over onto you and capturing you in a kiss.

You oblige but quickly push him off, “Can we get room service though, I’m starving.”

Nodding, he replies, “Sure, then I’ll only owe you 49 more dinners.”

Room service took about 45 minutes, which gave you sufficient enough time to fool around again. Now sitting together on the bed, wrapped in the hotel’s fluffy white robes you stuff your faces with pizza and chicken wings while chatting.

“Good thing you brought that box of condoms, huh? Would’ve had me sprinting to the hotel store at 1am last night in nothing but my boxers if you didn’t.” Frankie laughed.

You grin as you swallow another bite of pizza, “Hey I was planning on hooking up this weekend, didn’t know it was gonna be you but, oh well.”

“What size box did you get anyway?” he asks, reaching into the nightstand and pulling out the box. “34!” he exclaims, looking at you with wild eyes. “How much sex were you planning on having this weekend?” he asks, laughing.

You laugh and snatch the box out of his hand, “Hey, I wasn’t gonna use all of them, obviously.”

“I don’t know, sounds like you had some pretty big plans for this weekend.”

Biting your lip, you look him up and down, “No, but something big did come up.” You say with a wink.

He looks at you slightly confused but also amused.

You giggle, “Sorry, dick joke.”

“Oh!” He laughs, “Yeah, one of my more redeeming qualities that’s for sure.”

“I’d say you’re pretty much redeemed at this point.”

Smiling, he looks at you with those damn deep brown eyes that make your heart twist every time now, “I am sorry again about how things have been between us. I really regret hurting you like that.”

“Don’t worry about it, I think a part of me could tell there was more to it. Will and Benny always sang your praises and I trust them so, I figured you couldn’t be as much of a bad guy that you led on.” You reply, taking his hand in yours. “It’s actually kind of exciting now, I get to get to know you all over again. The real you, that is.”

Looking bashful he tucks his head down slightly, “Well, I’ve gotten to know you quite a bit, and I really like you.”

You lean in for a kiss, “Thanks Fish, I really like you too. Does this mean you’re gonna start calling me by my nickname now?”

He goes into a fake deep thought, “Hmmm, I don’t know.” You offer a pout and plump your lower lip out. “Alright, you win, Birdie.” He says with a wink.

Monday

“You ready?” Frankie asks, putting away the last of his things in his suitcase.

Looking around the hotel room you grew a sense of sadness, so much has happened this weekend in this room, and you are sad to see it go. You are worried, worried about how the real world would react to your relationship with Frankie. Praying it wouldn’t reject you like a bad piercing and instead you would be able to blend your lives together and continue how it’s been these last crazy 24 hours.

“Hey,” he says softly, rubbing a hand on your shoulder. “It’s gonna be alright. We’re gonna go home, and get back into our routines, and I’m gonna take you out on a date. Have a chance to treat you right.”

His touch warms you and his words make you swoon. He was so comforting, and so reassuring. The way his eyes twinkle when they look at you could only be described as magic.

Nodding along to his soothing words, you throw your backpack over your shoulders and grab your suitcase, sliding out the door behind him. Once in the hallway, Frankie offers you a caring smile and his hand, which you accept gladly.

Walking into the lobby hand in hand with Frankie Morales was not how you expected this vacation to end, and by the looks on your friends faces it’s not what they were expecting either.

“Well, what do we have here?” Will hums.

Benny whistles and the girls give their ouus and ahhhs.

“Alright calm down you animals.” Frankie says, to settle the crowd of looky loos.

Blaire smiles, “So this is why you two weren’t at dinner and drinks last night, huh?”

“Thought you were dead.” Sofia comments with a laugh.

“Yeah, sorry about that.” You say, steadying your suitcase on the white granite floor. Frankie squeezes your hand reassuringly.

Santi crosses his arms and grins brightly, “Well, I guess my plan worked after all.” he says, winking at Sofia who laughs and swats his arm playfully.

You look at him confused, “What plan?”

He smirks, “Oh, I booked you guys in the same room on purpose.”

Yours and Frankie’s mouths drop as the rest of the group share your shock. Various whats and Popes echoing out from you all.

Santi taps his hands up and down in the air, “Alright, alright calm down. I had to do something after the way I’ve been watching my best friend pine over this woman for the last few years. He wouldn’t make a move, so I just thought if I put them in the same room together for the weekend they’d be forced to-,”

“Fuck.” Benny interjected, giggling.

Sofia shakes her head, “Noo, talk. But I mean, we’re assuming you also….” She begins, giving you an inquisitive look.

You cross your arms and suck your teeth at the thought of your friends tricking you and Frankie, but ultimately nod your head slightly which earns a cheer from the group and causes Frankie to press his hand to his face in embarrassment.

Frankie pulls his hand off his face and points jokingly at Santi, “I’m gonna kick your ass, man. You could’ve told me.”

Santi shrugs, “It had to happen organically, love can’t be forced.” he says, wrapping his arm around Sofias’ waist.

Will leans into the group, “Hey Pope, did you hit Birdie with the volleyball on purpose on Saturday?”

You perk up immediately, snapping your fingers as you point at him. “Hey, yeah that was when I was trying to get Juan’s attention!”

Laughing, he replies, “Hey I was looking out for my boy. Didn’t want that guy messing anything up. I thought about trying to get rid of him that night too, but it seems Fish beat me to it.”

“Oh, you have no idea, that is a funny story for the shuttle ride.” You say, tapping Frankie’s elbow as he smiles at you.

Wendy claps her hands together, “Alright, now that we’ve got that all sorted, let’s head back to reality.”

Quiet groans erupt from the group as they collect their bags and head to the lobby doors. Frankie swiftly grabs your wrist before you can get too far and swings you back into his arms. Looking down at you he smiles, and you smile right back, before he leans down and kisses you tenderly, squeezing you tightly in his strong arms.

And there they were, those butterflies floating around in your stomach, just like you always knew you were supposed to feel when you were with the right guy, at the right time.

Part 1

@christinamadsen @fluffygoffpanda

[cherriegyuu]

hiii how r u!! could i please request a soonyoung bf drabble. just tooth rotting fluff, taking ur makeup off after a long day, cuddles and kisses in bed, his reaction to u wearing his clothes etc. he get possessive/jealous when he sees u laughing at someone else’s jokes. just the most bf!soonyoung ever.

hi! thank you for requesting, i hope you like it <3

pairing: soonyoung x f!reader genre: fluff word count: 1.1k warnings: none a/n: not proofread

Soonyoun was lying in bed, scrolling through his phone mindlessly, eyes nearly closing, too heavy with sleep. He wanted to wait for you, make sure you had gotten home safely at least. But he was exhausted and his desire to stay awake was little if compared to the amount of tiredness that overtook his body. 

He fell into a quiet nap, the sound of whichever video he clicked on as the perfect soundtrack, when he heard the living room door open. Your exhausted sigh echoed through the apartment, all the way to the room. 

Soonyoung pushed himself up against the headboard and waited for you. It took you three entire minutes to get to the room. And it was safe to say that he had never seen you more tired. Your makeup did a good job of hiding everything but he knew you. Your eyes had lost all the light they usually carried and if people were like computers then your system was crashing, beyond repair.

Soonyoung didn’t say anything and just opened his arms for you. Without even thinking you walked up to the bed, dropping your body over his and nesting your head on his chest.

“Bad week?” he asked, lips pressed to your head. 

He held you tightly, just like you once told him you liked. It’s like I’m recharging.

“Yeah” you murmured, moving your head to his neck, breathing him in “I could sleep for 30 hours straight”

“Good thing  neither of us works tomorrow so we can stay in bed as long as we want”

You hummed against his neck, eyes already closing. 

Sleeping in, body clung to Soonyoung’s like a koala, was the perfect way to start a weekend and finish it, if you were to have it your way. The entire day your only wish had been to go home and cuddle in bed with your boyfriend. You knew that he had a difficult week so it would be good for him too. 

“Babe?” he poked your rib “Don’t you want to eat or shower?”

You just shook your head. There was no strength left in your body to do anything, taking off your shoes and coat had drained the last drop of energy you still had. 

“Your makeup at least? You’re going to hate yourself in the morning if you don’t take it off”

You wrapped your arms around his middle, rubbing your head on his shoulder. You just wanted to forget all about your job and your boss. And you wanted to do that in your boyfriend’s arms. He didn’t have the same plan as he moved your body to the side and stood up. 

“Soonyoung” you nearly cried. 

He just laughed and you heard as he went to the bathroom and moved a few of the bottles over the sink.

“Sit up”

Groaning, you refused to move even an inch. 

“Why are you doing this to me?”

Soonyoung laughed again and pulled you up by the hands. 

“Sit up,” he said again, doing his best to keep his voice stern.

Finally, you opened your eyes, blinking back at the light. Your boyfriend was kind enough to turn off the main light, only leaving the bedside lamp on. 

“You’re so cruel today” you whined with a pout. 

Again, Soonyoung just laughed as he held your face in his hands, squeaking your cheeks together. 

“I’m being kind” he pouted too “Do you remember how you said that if I ever let you go to bed without a shower I would have permission to throw a bucket of water on you? You’re lucky I’m not doing that”

“I have no recollection of that”

You looked at the products in his hands and although all of them for for makeup removal, not a single one of them could be used without water. 

“I can’t do it here, I need water” you pointed at the small bottles.

You sighed and pushed yourself off the bed but before your feet could touch the soft carpet, you felt Soonyoung’s arms on the back of your knees and around your back. 

“Soonyoung!” his name left your lips in a squeal “What are you doing?”

He kissed your cheek as he carried you to the bathroom in silence, a small smile playing on his face. 

“Did you get a haircut?” you asked, running your hand through his hair. It was shorter than it was the morning and he had an undercut. 

“This happens to be my girlfriend’s favorite haircut for me”

He sat you on the sink and stood between your legs, hands on the top of your thighs. 

“I think your girlfriend just happens to like you, a lot” you leaned forward and pressed your lips against his “I can do this by myself”

He hummed in agreement but still held up the bottles waiting for you to choose between one of them. You pointed and the oil and like he had seen you do many times before, Soonyoung dropped some of the oil in his hand before applying it to your face and rubbing it in circles, melting away your makeup. 

You purred and closed your eyes, clinging to his waist with both arms, pulling him as close to you as possible. In return, Soonyoung just laughed. 

“It’s almost like we have a cat a home” he joked and you purred again, a little louder this time “See? You can rinse it off now”

Without opening your eyes, you came down from the sink and turned around, filling your hands with water and washing your face. Soonyoung pressed his forehead to your back, hands on your hips.

“I barely saw you these past few days and we live together” he complained. 

It felt like a hand was squeezing your heart. You had been working like crazy for the past month and that week was just further proof of that but it was also the most hectic one yet. You were the first one to get to the office and the last one to leave, some days past midnight. There was just way too much work and not enough people. In the midst of that, you missed Soonyoung the most. You didn’t have time to call him during your lunch break like you sometimes did, because you didn’t take a break at all, and even texting had gotten harder. 

“You’re never home when I go to bed and you’re already gone by the time I wake up”

You reached for the cleansing soap and quickly washed your face before turning around to look at him. 

“Everything will be back to normal now” you promised as Soonyoung started to lightly dry your face with a towel “The worst part of the projects is done and the company hired three more people, they will start working on monday”

You raised your hands to Soonyoung’s cheeks and brought him closer to you, dropping kisses all over his face, and making him laugh.

“I missed you” you whispered “My cute hamster”

He made a face and picked you up again.

“You’re just delusional with sleep now, calling me a hamster and everything. Let’s get you to bed”

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[dayumbxxch]

Spoiled Memories

Chapter two

The clicking of shoes on tile fills the halls of Smith's Grove. A young 22 year old with dull eyes follows behind Delores, learning what to do at her new job.

The hushed lunchroom made Y/N heart race; even though she knew none of the patients were paying her any attention she couldn't help but feel self conscious. 

Y/N's eyes glaze over as she mindlessly follows the older woman. Life had become dull and meaningless ever since she'd lost her brother. So she began to let her mind drift throughout the day to happier times. It had cost her a few jobs and almost a car crash once but she left more alive in her mind. 

"-ey!" 

"What were you saying?" 

"We have to go down the hall to deliver the food to the ones that have to stay in their rooms."

Nodding the girl follows behind her mentor, the hallway was pin-drop silent. "These patients are deemed as hazards or themselves..or to others." Delores's voice dropped near the end while glancing towards a door they had passed. 

Her lunch break approached rather quickly, leaving the break room Y/N began ease dropping on a conversation while grabbing a soda. 

"So how's the new girl?"      "Weird she doesn't really say anything. She just stands there silent and shit." 

Hearing enough Y/N turned on her heel and walked back into the break room. Throughout her years of being a recluse she learned not to care about anything really. 

She was here for money to find her brother. That was all she wanted ever since he went to jail and she was moved to a different foster home. 

"So have you met the boogeyman yet?" 

"Um..no I don't think I have"

Y/N's new coworker began a strange story. 

"So there was this boy in a town near here in haddonfield. And one day after the years of bullying and torment he snapped and killed his sister, a kid from his school, and his step dad. So he was brought here when he was just ten years old. His mom came to see him every week. Then he snapped again killing a nurse right after the doctor stepped out of the room. His mom tired of it all shot herself dead. And in the next room was her daughter the boogeyman's little sister Laurie. Now he rots away in his room and he smells terrible. He looks homeless and has really greasy hair."

The boy described rang an unforgotten bell in Y/N head. "What was his name?" The woman spun around a clipboard from beside her. 

Michael Myers

Y/N's heart skipped a little her golden childhood friend had murdered a bunch of people; he's now in the Sanitarium she just started working at. "I'm Isabella by the way!" "Y/N." 

"Elvis I'm home!" A beaten up looking Russian Blue cat jumped at the sound of the front door opening. "Hey honey are you hungry~" Sitting her keys down Y/N picks up her beloved pet and walks him over to the kitchen. 

The move wasn't awful since she didn't have much to unpack it only took a couple of hours. Elvis had gotten used to the new house already and even started exploring outside.

Y/N's life continues as dull as normal even with her late night runs to calm her mind before bed. Everyday seemed to be a repeat of the last. It had only been a week but it felt like a month. The shifts went by slow and her home time with Elvis went by fast.

As usual Y/N begins her day staring off into nothing while sitting in bed. A loud alarm jolts her out of her dazed state, she makes her way to the bathroom.

After doing her usual eyeliner to bring some attention to her e/c eyes instead of the ever darkening circles around her eyes.

The drive to work was the usual forty-five minutes filled with hard rock playing to keep her awake.

"Hey Isabella." Her voice was barely audible but her newly found friend understood her perfectly. "Hey hon how's it going?" The blonde sets an energy drink in front of Y/N as she drinks her own. "Since you're now working the early shift you get to meet the man, the myth, and the legend, Michael Myers and his little pal Dr. Loomis." 

Y/N rolls her eyes while chugging her drink quickly. Tears prick her eyes from the carbonation, blinking them away she stands up and follows her friend. 

"So he's the usual creep. He stares and stands there until you leave. He likes OJ and that's about all we know about him. Don't give him anything remotely sharp he has special silverware that will bend if he tries to stab anyone with it." 

Y/N bites the inner part of her lip and Isabelle picks up on her silence. "You'll be fine. The man has got to eat." She says while handing her a tray. "Him and Dr. Loomis are in there." She uses her head to motion towards two doors. 

"Go" Y/N gets pushed towards the double doors and gulps while  the guards let her inside. Not saying a word she sets Michael's tray on the table. Y/N's eyes flicker towards the huge man and her breath escapes her. She'd briefly met eyes with the man in the mask. 

"Thank you ma'am you may go. Now Michael can you look back at the picture please?" 

A heavy feeling settled in Y/N's stomach, she'd always had a knack for feeling people's stares. 

"Michael?... Michael!"

"Ma'am could you please come back here for a moment?" 

[lumosandnoxwriting]

you saw the truth in me || George Weasley

Title: you saw the truth in me Pairing: George x Reader Warnings: Mentions of fighting/violence, mentions of blood.  Summary: George never thought he’d be back here again, heartbroken over the only girl he’s ever loved. But once again, he only has himself and his stupidity to blame. Hockey has always been his safe place, but even that isn’t enough to heal his broken heart. A man once at the height of his life, is now on the cusp of losing it all. It’s time for the lies and fakeness to end, and George can only hope it isn’t too late. A/N: here it is, the final part of hockey!george! Thank you so much to everyone who has supported this series and left lovely comments/sent messages - it truly means so much to me that you all love hockey!George as much as I do! As always, comments/feedback are always welcome and appreciated <3 Tags: @rk-ceres

-

George is purely operating on auto-pilot at this point. When Y/N walked out of his life she took all of his motivation and will to do anything with her. If hockey wasn’t all he had left George surely would have been happy rotting away in bed for the foreseeable future. But without Y/N around he has to focus on something, so hockey it is. 

He only gets out of bed because he has practice and training and film sessions to attend. He only gets in the shower so that he doesn’t scare away the few people he hasn’t managed to run off. Eating is purely for fuel, and something he only remembers to do when his body is on the verge of collapsing. 

Before she came back into his life George thought hockey was the only love he’d ever have. Hell, he even went back home and convinced his ex-girlfriend to pretend to be engaged to him so that he could further his career. But having Y/N in his home and in his heart taught him many things, one of them being that there is more in life than just hockey. It really made George reevaluate his outlook, made him think about what happens when he retires and what he wants his life to look like. 

Before Y/N he had convinced himself that he’d spend the rest of his days alone, spending time with his family and doting on his nieces and nephews between lavish vacations and golf trips. Maybe he’d coach a peewee league or two. Whatever he would do George had it in his head that he would be doing it alone. 

But once Y/N reappeared in his life all of those future plans changed. He saw a house in a quiet suburb with a golden retriever in the yard. He saw Y/N in the kitchen, humming to herself as she made dinner. There were kids too, at least three, a perfect combination of the two of them that would fill their house with love and laughter. 

It was a future that George didn’t just imagine - he yearned for it. And with one mistake it’s gone. 

Now he’s not really sure what the point of it all is. What’s the point of being at the height of his career when there’s no one in the stands cheering him on? What’s the point of making all of this money when he has no college funds or family vacations to spend it on? 

He knows everyone is worried about him, but he’s gone into pure survival mode. Ignoring everyone and everything that might make him feel something. Just like he did the last time he fucked up and lost Y/N.

-

George grunts as Ross slams him into the boards, his shoulder seizing up as his head bounces off the glass. He doesn’t even have the energy to hit back, he just lets him skate off with the puck. 

He’s been playing like absolute shit ever since he came back from spring break, but George can’t find it in himself to care. There’s a Y/N shaped hole in his heart, and there isn’t room in his mind for anything except the pain he feels without her. Sure he’s the one who broke them up, but he was doing what he thought was best for her - not for him. 

Even knowing that the Rebels will be drafting him next week isn’t enough to make him feel anything other than pain, which is ironic considering the fact that he told Y/N some bullshit about needing to focus on hockey was the reason why he was ending things. At this point George doesn’t even care if he makes it to the NHL, hell Coach could cut him tomorrow and he’d walk away from hockey forever. 

Without Y/N nothing really makes sense anymore. 

George is so out of it that he doesn’t even realize the game is still going on around him until Coach blows his whistle. 

“All right, that's enough for today, hit the locker room boys. Weasley - my office, now!”

He takes his time leaving the ice, not wanting to face the worried looks his teammates have been sending his way for days. George is almost thankful that Coach is about to tear him a new asshole, since the locker room will probably be empty by the time he gets back there and he doesn’t have to ignore all the questions the boys are sure to have. 

“What the fuck has gotten into you, Weasley?” Coach asks before George’s ass is even in the seat across from his desk. 

“Just got a lot on my mind,” George mumbles, shrugging his shoulders. 

Coach huffs, clearly torn between berating the boy in front of him or offering him a sympathetic shoulder. “Look, I can’t imagine the shit you’re going through, kid. But you gotta leave it in the locker room. Out on that ice the only thing that should be in your head is the game, you understand me?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I mean it, George. Fucking up out there isn’t just going to fuck things up for the team but for you as well. The Rebel’s are only offering you a provisional contract, there’s no guarantee they’ll actually call you up once you graduate. Then you’ll be stuck entering the draft as a free agent, and with the way you’ve been playing you’ll be lucky to make it onto a farm team. This is everything you’ve been working towards, Weasley and you are so fucking close, kid. Don’t let all that hard work go to waste. Hockey is the only thing you’ve got room for in your life, understand?”

George nods, and after a few moments of silence Coach dismisses him and he doesn’t hesitate to get the fuck out of there. 

But Coach is right. If he can’t have Y/N at least he still has hockey, and that will have to be enough.

-

Which is why he’s ignored every single one of Fred’s phone calls, and has made up an excuse every time Adam or Thomas invites him out to do something. He told them Y/N had to go back home for some kind of family emergency to explain his shitty mood, and George knows the second they get him alone they’ll be able to tell something bigger is going on; and that is not a conversation George is ready to have. 

They’ve got one more preseason game before Morris announces him as Captain, and George is just holding on until then. Once the announcement is made he’ll be able to get his shit back together and be the man everyone seems to think he is. 

At least that’s what he keeps telling himself.

-

“Hey, you okay?”

Y/N flinches at the sound of Fred’s voice, and she slowly spins around to face him. He’s standing just where George did all of those weeks ago when he came to ask for her help and it makes the hole in her chest throb. Because even though George hurt her again, Y/N wishes it was him standing there checking on her, not his twin. 

“Just peachy,” she lies, giving Fred her best fake grin. 

Fred snorts in laughter. “I think you’ve always been so focused on George that you forget I’ve known you just as long as he has, Y/N. So cut the crap, we both know you’re not okay.”

Y/N sighs, letting her shoulders slump. Because Fred is right. She’s so far from being okay that word has lost all meaning. It’s been three days since she left Chicago, and even though she’d been desperate to get away Y/N finds herself wishing she was there, back at home with George. 

She’s not really sure when Chicago became home, but the second she touched down in Washington she knew this wasn’t where she was supposed to be. Everything just feels wrong. 

Her old apartment that she thought was so cozy feels like a prison cell, skating at the community center doesn’t bring her the same joy it used to - not when she knows what it’s like to skate at the arena with George by her side. Even seeing her friends leaves her with a longing to hang out with Olivia and Jenny. 

It’s like George finally showed her what it really means to live her life, and now she’s just floating along with no idea how to function anymore. So she plasters on her best fake smile and does what she does best: pretend.

“Look,” Fred starts, taking a few steps forward so he’s closer. “I have no idea what happened between you and George while you guys were in Chicago and I’m not going to pretend that I fully understand the relationship you two have. But there are a few things I do know for sure. For starters I know my brother is hurting, he’s refusing my calls and if the texts I’ve gotten from his teammates are true he’s shutting himself out from the world. And the only other time he did that was after he broke up with you and he was heartbroken.”

Y/N looks away from Fred, not wanting him to see how upset it makes her knowing George is hurting too. Even though she knows he brought that upon himself, she knows she played a role in that pain too. Instead of sticking around to hear what George had to say, she shut down and ran away, just like she did all those years ago. Just like she regrets doing all those years ago. 

Instead of staying and working things out together, she ran, and all that has accomplished is making them both feel like shit. 

“I also know that whatever the hell happened between you two was far from fake. Because you’re both hurt for real, and some stupid lie or argument between two people pretending to be in love wouldn’t cause this kind of heartbreak,” he continues when she doesn’t say anything. “Finally, I know whatever the hell happened was just a roadblock in your story, not the end. You still love George, and you’re holding out hope that he still loves you too.”

His voice is so strong and sure, and those feelings are reflected in Fred’s gaze once Y/N gets the courage to look at him. It almost takes her breath away, how confident Fred is that her and George will work things out. 

“How do you know?” she asks, unable to keep the question in. “How can you be so sure that everything is going to work out?”

The smile on Fred’s face could light the world as he gestures towards her left hand. “Because you’re still wearing the ring my brother gave you. If everything that happened was really fake, and you’re really done with him, why are you still wearing it?”

Y/N is at a loss for words, and with a final wink Fred turns on his heel and walks away. Once he’s disappeared she can’t help but look at the diamond sparkling on her finger, and even just the thought of taking it off makes her chest ache. Despite it being a painful reminder of what could have been, every time she’s tried to take it off Y/N was never quite able to go through with it. It’s the last claim George has over her, and taking it off means that they really are over. 

And if George is feeling just as heartbroken as she is, maybe there still is hope for a happily ever after. 

-

“Wow, Fred wasn’t lying. You really do look like shit.”

Y/N rolls her eyes at Angelina’s bluntness, but there’s a genuine smile on her face for the first time in days. 

“Please, come in and continue to insult me when I already feel like dog shit,” Y/N responds, opening her front door wider so she can come in. 

It’s been a few days since Fred confronted her at the rink, and Y/N isn’t totally surprised that Angelina is here to check up on her. She’d kind of been hoping that she would show up eventually, because Y/N has been dying to get a female perspective on the situation. If anyone is going to tell it to her straight with no regard for her feelings it’s going to be Angelina Johnson. 

Perhaps the best thing to come out of her relationship with George, besides all the love and whatever, is her relationship with Angelina. Dating one half of Fred and George is taxing, to say the least, and the two girls developed a kind of kinship over complaining about all the shit their boyfriends got into. 

Luckily Y/N got to keep Angelina in the breakup, because getting fake engaged to your ex boyfriend and then falling in love with him again is something only a girl who is dating a Weasley twin can understand. 

“You know I already nursed you through one George Weasley breakup,” Angelina teases as she plops down onto the couch. “I’m not really sure I have it in me to do it again.”

“You came over here on your own, you realize that, right?” Y/N sits down next to her, halfheartedly hitting the other girl with a throw pillow. “You’re the one who volunteered yourself for this position.”

“Semantics,” Angelina scoffs playfully. She bites her lip, suddenly feeling a bit nervous as she clutches the pillow Y/N hit her with to her chest. “I mean it kind of is my fault that you’re in this situation, so it only makes sense that I help you come up with a plan to get out of it.”

Y/N rolls her eyes. “Just because Fred got this hairbrained idea for George and I to get fake engaged because you read a bunch of romance novels does not make any of this your fault. I’m the one who went and fucked up the plan by actually getting real feelings. And you certainly didn’t make George lie to me. I’m the one who got myself into this mess.”

“Still, I feel bad and Fred has been fucking moping around the apartment since George refuses to pick up his calls and I needed a good reason to get the hell out of there.”

“So you’re here for purely selfish reasons,” Y/N laughs. “I see how it is.”

“So you really fell in love with George again, huh?” Angelina questions, nudging Y/N’s knee with her own. 

“Yeah, like a fucking idiot.”

Angelina huffs a laugh. “I don’t know how those boys ended up managing to get two of the hottest girls we went to school with. I swear it must be witchcraft.” That pulls another smile from Y/N, and she considers her next words carefully. “And you’re not an idiot, Y/N. If you fell back in love with George it’s because of who George is and the way he treated you. It’s not like you hated him and then woke up on a random morning madly in love again.”

Y/N shrugs, keeping her eyes focused on the rug to keep from looking at the other girl. “I don’t think I ever really hated George,” she admits quietly. “Was I pissed at him for breaking up with me? Of course, but I never hated him. I think deep down I’ve always loved him, but I refused to acknowledge those feelings to keep myself from getting hurt. That’s the only reason I agreed to this stupid thing in the first place, I told myself either this was George and I’s second chance at a future or it was the wake up call I needed to finally put that chapter of my life to rest and move on.”

“And which one was it?”

“Wake up call,” Y/N responds, her tone saying ‘duh, isn’t it obvious?’

Angelina gives her a grin that Y/N swears she’s seen on Fred’s face before. I guess it’s true that people in long term relationships start to mimic each other’s mannerisms.

“Then why haven’t you taken off the ring?”

Y/N groans, flopping back against the pillows. “You’re such a shithead, you know that? Fred asked me the same question at the rink the other day.”

“He did?” Angelina asks, even though the glint in her eyes tells Y/N that she already knew that. “You know I deserve an award for all the work I’ve put into that boy. He’s a different man than he was when we met, and it’s all thanks to me.”

“If anyone has changed during the course of your relationship it’s you,” Y/N teases. “You used to actually be tolerable and now you’re both insufferable idiots.”

Now Angelina is the one smacking Y/N with a pillow, hitting her softly a few times before they’re both dissolving into a fit of giggles. 

“So answer the question,” Angelina urges once they’ve calmed down. “If you and George really are over for good why are you still wearing your engagement ring?”

Y/N sighs, holding out her left hand to examine the piece of jewelry George slid onto her fourth finger. It’s everything she’s always wanted her engagement ring to be, a true reminder of how well George knows her and his dedication to do everything he can to make her happy. It’s a reminder of all the plans they’d made as teenagers, and even though it was supposed to be fake, she’d viewed it as a promise that George would make all of those other dreams come true too. 

“I guess because I don’t really want it to be over. Of course I’m pissed at George and I’m upset that he lied to me, but I want that second chance. Or maybe it’s our third chance, who the hell knows anymore. I just know that I’m not ready to say goodbye to George Weasley for good. I think he fell back in love with me too, I just don’t know how to fix this mess we’ve gotten ourselves in.”

That stupid Fred grin is back on Angelina’s face and Y/N already regrets the words that have just come out of her mouth. Fred really has rubbed off on Angelina too much, and while she doesn’t know what the plan is, the look on Angelina’s face tells Y/N that she already has one.

And she’s not really sure if that’s a good thing or not.

-

George had planned on ignoring it. 

The knocking started over twenty minutes ago, and he figured whichever of his teammates decided to try and talk some sense into him would eventually get tired and give up. But now it’s gone from simple knocking to pounding, and as much as George doesn’t want to see anyone he does have neighbors and the last thing he needs is a noise complaint to make him feel shittier than he already does. 

So he stomps to the front door, fully intent on opening it just long enough to tell whoever it is to fuck right off so he can go back to wallowing in peace. But all of that fades away, since the second he yanks the door open Olivia and Jenny are pushing their way through, forcing George to the side as they storm into his apartment. 

Adam and Thomas follow their girlfriends, but they at least have the decency to look a little ashamed of their ambush. Forcing himself to get his shit together, George takes a few deep breaths before he shuts the door and follows everyone into the living room. 

Olivia and Jenny have matching stern expressions on their faces, hands on their hips as they glare at George. 

“Sit,” Olivia commands, gesturing towards the couch. 

 It’s then that George notices no one else is sitting down, in fact the four of them have formed a half circle facing the couch where Olivia just demanded he sit. 

“What the fuck is this?” George questions as he does as he was told. “An intervention?”

“So you admit that you did something that requires intervention?”

George frowns and Jenny’s question, silently kicking himself for playing into their hand. He was ready to just spout out some bullshit to get them out of his apartment, but clearly they know something is going on and they don’t plan on leaving until they get it out of him. 

“Maybe,” he admits, the same feelings of shame and guilt creeping in when he thinks of Y/N and what happened between them. He knows he royally fucked everything up, but he’s at a loss for what to do to try and fix things between them. Y/N was clear that she regretted not fighting for their relationship last time, and George isn’t going to let himself make the same mistake. He just doesn’t know where to go from here.

All he knows is that his plan to keep his head down and focus on hockey has been a complete and utter failure. His skating has been sloppy, his puck control has gone out the window and every time he steps on the ice he’s counting down the minutes until he can go home and crawl into his sheets that still smell like Y/N. 

“Spill, now,” Olivia demands. 

And so he does. Because these people are his family, and he knows they’ve come to care about Y/N too, and if he has any shred of hope for getting Y/N back he’ll take all the help he can get. Even if it means letting everyone know what an utter idiot he’s been over the last few months. 

He starts all the way at the beginning, back when he let his insecurities get the better of him and he broke things off with Y/N. George tells them about the pain, and how he buried himself into hockey to ignore all of it, and his promise to never love another woman again. When he gets to the conversation he had Morris had in the off season and the scheme he cooked up with Fred George’s eyes drop to the floor, not wanting to see the things the others are feeling. 

George tells them about how somewhere along the way he fell in love with Y/N for real, and his sole focus became making sure she felt the same way too. He made sure to emphasize how little he cared about being named Captain, that he would have happily been benched for the rest of his career if it meant he had the girl of his dreams by his side. 

Leading them all the way up to now, how he had lied to Y/N about being named Captain so he had enough time to really be sure she’d want to make their arrangement something real. And how on the very day he planned on coming clean, his brother had accidentally spilled the beans and she discovered his lie and betrayal. He tells them all about how hurt Y/N looked that day, and how he just let her walk away. 

He keeps his eyes downcast as he finishes his story, and they all just stand there in silence. 

Until Adam laughing breaks through. 

“You’re something else, Weasel, holy shit.”

The grunt he makes when Jenny slaps his stomach makes George finally look up, and he’s surprised and relieved to see that no one looks mad at him. 

“You guys aren’t mad?”

“Oh I’m pissed that you lied to us,” Olivia starts, but there isn’t any malice in her voice. “And I’m pissed that you screwed things up with Y/N. But clearly you regret your actions and you’re hurting, so I can be pissed at you after.”

“After?”

“After we help you fix things with Y/N,” Jenny responds as if the answer is obvious. “Making you get on your knees and beg for our forgiveness is only satisfying if you don’t look like an abused puppy while you do it.”

“Gee thanks,” George huffs, rolling his eyes. But for the first time since Y/N walked out on him George feels something other than despair. 

He feels hope.

-

The first step of her new plan involves watching the final Rebel’s preseason game, even though Y/N isn’t totally sure she’s ready to see George again. Even if it is through the TV. 

But if what Fred said is true and George has isolated himself from the people around him she needs to make sure that he’s okay. That his heart is still beating and he’s still breathing. Confirmation of life, if you will. 

Again, she’s got to quit watching so much Criminal Minds. 

From the moment George steps out onto the ice it’s clear he isn’t himself. The one place George has always been sure of himself is the rink, but the man wearing his jersey is far from the confident man Y/N expected to see. As she watches him warm up it’s clear there’s no passion behind his movements, like he’s out there playing because he has to be and not because he wants to be. 

It’s the last preseason game and they’re on their own turf, George should be flying high. But from the looks of it he’d rather be anywhere but the stadium. It makes her sick, knowing that even the sport he loves isn’t enough to bring him comfort, and Y/N wishes she could make all that pain go away. 

She’s tempted to turn the TV off, she got a glimpse of him to confirm he is still in fact alive, and now can go about her evening doing just about anything else. But she can’t find it in herself to grab the remote and change the station. Despite his clear lack of enthusiasm George looks beautiful out on the ice, and she can’t look away. Y/N decides to at least watch the first period, figuring George will shake off his funk and show up for his teammates. 

Unfortunately Y/N has never been more wrong in her life. 

George misses passes that he should be able to capture in his sleep, and the few attempts he makes on goal are sloppy and miss the mark by a mile. Clearly his mind is elsewhere, and Y/N feels consumed with guilt, knowing that she’s the reason why George is acting this way. This was supposed to be their season, but how are the Rebel’s supposed to take it all the way with a Captain who’s barely holding it together. 

Luckily the Rebels manage to keep it held together until they’re halfway through the second period. Despite George’s shitty playing they’ve scored two goals, keeping them tied with New York. And as Geore skates out for his next shift he almost looks like his old self. Each of his movements are sharp and sure, and even though the camera isn’t zoomed in on his face Y/N can tell there’s a look of determination painted on it. 

She’s actually feeling hopeful that he’s managed to pull it together as George faces off against the opposing center for the puck drop. From the angle of the camera it’s apparent that New York’s center is chirping at George for the hundredth time tonight, though Y/N can’t really tell what’s being said. Luckily George is used to it, and he’s always good about ignoring the bullshit and letting their defensemen take care of it. 

Except George clearly isn’t himself, because the second the Ref blows the whistle George is dropping his gloves and taking a swing at the player across from him. Y/N gasps as blood sprays from the other player’s nose, a weird mixture of shock and arousal thrumming through her veins. 

New York’s center drops his own gloves then, and their fight is in full swing. George grabs onto his opponent’s jersey, yanking him closer so he can land another hit to his face. The Ref’s let them exchange some blows, but as their teammates start to get involved whistles start to blow, and Y/N is on the edge of her seat as George disappears under a pile of fighting hockey players. 

It takes several moments for the Refs to pull everyone apart, but since George and New York’s center were the catalysts they are the only two who receive a penalty. He only receives five minutes, and her stomach turns as a Ref leads George to the sin bin. There’s blood dripping down the corner of his mouth, and she can’t help but notice how swollen and bloody his knuckles are as he wipes it away. 

Even once his penalty is up, George doesn’t get back on the ice until the game is almost over. Luckily he’s kept his hands to himself, and that same determined glare still graces his features as he nabs the puck at the face off. The game is tied up still, and Y/N doesn’t even breathe as the Rebel’s take the puck down the ice towards New York’s goal. The clock is swiftly ticking down, and they have the opportunity to go into the regular season undefeated. 

There were about a dozen different times that Y/N considered switching the game off as she watched, too nervous to keep watching the absolute shit show going on but still feeling the need to support George, even if it’s from her couch and not the stands. But as the clock ticks down and George slaps the puck into the back of the net, scoring both his first point and the game winning point, her heart swells and she’s thankful that she stuck it out.

Because instead of joining his team in celebrating, George raises his stick towards the camera pointed at him, mouthing the words she’s gotten used to seeing again. 

“That was for you.”

Y/N doesn’t even realize she’s crying until the tears drip off of her chin and land on her lap. Despite having no idea that she’s watching, and playing the worst game of his career, George dedicated his goal to her. 

If that wasn’t enough to prove to her that what she and George had was anything but fake, the post game interview he gives leaves no room for doubt.

“You certainly weren’t playing like yourself out there, George, care to comment on what was going on tonight?”

George grunts, and Y/N can tell that the question pisses him off. “My head just wasn’t in it, but I think New York’s center knocked it back into place,” he jokes, trying to make light of the situation.

“Does it have anything to do with the mystery woman you’ve been spotted with recently? Who is this woman who managed to capture your heart and has you dedicating all of your goals to her?” Another reporter asks once called on. 

Y/N figured George is going to deflect the question just like he always does, so she’s surprised when a genuine smile takes over his scowl. 

“That mystery woman would be, Y/N. She’s the woman who always pushes me to be the best version of myself, the only voice I hear in my head when I’m out on the ice. The woman that I love.” 

Y/N’s breath catches in her throat at his honest answer, and her heart feels like it might beat out of her chest as George looks dead into the camera and continues. 

“Baby if you’re watching, and God I really hope you are or I’m about to make a fool of myself on national television, I’m so sorry. I messed up, and I plan on spending every day of the rest of my life making it up to me if you’ll let me. I love you, please come home.”

Suddenly there isn’t a doubt in her mind: George Weasley is completely and irrevocably in love with her and Y/N isn’t going to stop until he knows that she feels the same. 

-

George feels like he might pass out. 

It’s been a little over a week since he confessed his love for Y/N on national television and he hasn’t heard a peep from her. He figures it’s because she wasn’t watching the game, because he can’t bear to think that her silence is because she doesn’t feel the same. That’s a depressive spiral he doesn’t have the time or the energy to deal with. 

Instead he’s focused on the plan he, Olivia and Jenny came up with. He plans on saying the exact same thing during his post game interview tonight, win or lose, and if that doesn’t work he’ll be on a flight to Washington next week in between games to make his love declaration in person. 

George may have joked last week that fighting with New York’s Center knocked his head back on right, but there was some actual truth to that statement. Because he had been playing like shit, and after the fight the only thing he could think of is how upset Y/N would be if she were watching the game. Not only was he playing like shit, but he was acting like an asshole and letting his whole team down, and that version of George he wants her to see. Olivia and Jenny had helped him get his priorities straight and figure out how he needed to start mending things with Y/N, but it was up to him to actually put that plan into place. And playing like shit and getting into fights was not the way to do that.

Y/N truly is constantly pushing George to be the best version of himself, because he wants to be the guy who deserves to be loved by someone as amazing as her. And it really is her voice in his head out there on the ice, because succeeding in his career is going to allow him to give Y/N the life she deserves. And he really does love her, more than he’s ever loved anything. 

He’s done feeling sorry for himself, he knows what he wants and he’s not going to stop until he gets it. 

The first part of that involved a huge apology to his team, and a promise that he’s done being a fuckhead and he’ll be on the top of his game when they skate out onto that ice tonight. It’s the first game of the season and it’s at home: a lethal combination and anything other than a crushing defeat of the other team is not an option. 

Especially when Coach comes into the locker room before warmups, getting ready to make the big announcement that they’ve all been waiting for. 

“Alright, settle down, settle down.” Morris’ voice booms out, causing everyone to instantly quiet. “Now after Crawford retired I know there’s been lots of whispers about who would take his place as Captain. And a lot of time and effort has gone into this decision, it’s not something anyone has taken lightly, especially the man who we’ve chosen for the job. I’ve watched this man work endlessly to be the best player out on the ice for years, and recently I’ve seen him work just as hard to be the best man off of the ice too. Which is why I’m honored to announce the next Captain of the Rebels, number thirteen, George Weasley.”

The team whoops and cheers as George makes his way over to where Morris is standing, a brand new jersey with a capital C in his hands. The guys slap his back and ruffle his hair as he goes, and he feels overwhelmed with how much the team cares and supports him. He shakes Morris’ hand before taking the jersey from him, holding it up for all of the guys to see. 

“Speech! Speech! Speech!” Thomas starts chanting, with Adam joining in. Pretty soon half the team is shouting, and George waves his hand to quiet them down. 

“Jesus, fuck you guys are annoying,” he teases as they start to settle down. “I just wanna start by thanking Coach and everyone who made this decision, it honestly was an honor just to even be considered. This team is my family, and I’m ready to fight alongside all of you this season to bring that Cup home. So let’s get out there on that ice and show them what it means to be a Rebel!”

The team gets rowdy again as George takes off his old jersey, slipping the new one over his gear. It’s gametime then, and as they all line up to exit the tunnel George feels more ready than he ever has. This is going to be their season, and he’ll have Y/N fighting right alongside him if he has anything to say about it. 

The announcer’s booming voice echoes through the tunnel as he announces Texas’ team, and the boys start to bounce around as it gets closer and closer to being their turn out onto the ice. One by one as their names are called the guys flood out onto the ice, ramped up by the loud cheers radiating throughout the stadium. 

Like usual George is last in line, and as he gets closer and closer to stepping out onto the ice he takes a deep breath, silently praying that Y/N is watching. 

“And you’re starting Center and new team Captain number thirteen George Weasley!”

The screams are deafening as George steps out onto the ice, joining the team in their starting lap around the ice. He lets his eyes scan out over the crowd, just taking a moment to let everything sink in. Everything he’s worked for has been leading up to this, and he wants to commit it all to memory. The only thing that would make this night better is knowing that Y/N is there in the crowd to cheer him on too. 

Which is why he has to do a double take as they make their way past home bench, because even though he’s sure about what he saw it may have just been a trick of the lights he needs to be sure. And sure enough when he looks again, three rows back sandwiched between Olivia and Jenny is Y/N, a huge grin on her face as their eyes lock. 

George stops in his tracks at the sight of her, barely able to comprehend how she’s here. 

“Hey Captain!” Y/N shouts, though George reads it from her lips. His mouth drops open as Y/N stands up and turns around, showing off the jersey she has on. Because embroidered above the large number thirteen on the center of her back are the words, Mrs. Weasley. 

He can barely believe his eyes, and just as he’s about to throw himself over the boards to get to her Thomas is grabbing the back of his jersey, pulling him towards center ice so they can line up for the national anthem. 

“Chill your shit, lover boy! You can make up with your woman later, we’ve got a game to win!”

George spares Y/N one last look before he follows behind Thomas, slipping into a state of complete and utter focus. Because with his girl in the stands, wearing their last name, winning is the only option. 

-

George has never hated all the bullshit that comes with being a professional athlete more than he does right now. Usually he doesn’t mind all the media and the post game discussions, but knowing that Y/N is somewhere in this arena waiting for him makes George want to crawl out of his skin to get to her. 

Luckily, after what feels like an eternity he’s storming out of the locker room, his dress shirt barely buttoned up and soaking wet from his hair that he didn’t take the time to dry. He doesn’t care that he probably looks like a crazed animal, all he cares about is getting to her. Which is why he doesn’t realize how familiar the voice that’s calling his name is, and he doesn’t notice the person running full speed at him is Y/N until she’s practically right there in front of him.

He barely has time to drop the hockey bag slung over his shoulder and open his arms before Y/N is barrelling into him so hard it takes all of his strength and balance to keep them upright. Her face presses into the juncture of his neck while her arms twine around it, and George immediately wraps his own around her middle. He grips her tightly as Y/N hooks her legs around his hips, letting her warmth seep into his chest. 

“Baby,” he murmurs, nose pressed to her hair as he takes a deep breath in. His knees start to quiver from how good she smells, and George squeezes her even tighter. “You’re here, I can’t believe it.”

Y/N pulls away so she can look at George, the huge smile on her face reflected back at her on his. “How could I not be? Not after you asked me to come back home on national television.”

George chuckles, his cheeks flushing. “So you did see that, huh? When I didn’t hear from you afterwards I thought maybe you missed it. Or you saw it and it didn’t change anything for you.”

“I did see it, and it didn’t change anything for me.” The look that takes over George’s face makes her stomach sink, and Y/N twists her fingers in the damp hair at the back of his head. “Because I was already planning on coming back home to you, George. George Weasley I have loved you since I was six years old and you let me drag you down to the ice every time I stumbled and fell down. Even the time we spent apart did nothing to squash how much I love you. The whole reason I agreed to be your fake fiancé is because I hoped this could be our second chance at a future together. And the second I walked out of that door I wanted to turn around and run right back to you. I let you get away from me once and I’ll be damned if I make the same mistake twice.”

“Baby,” George breathes, tipping his head down so their foreheads are pressed together. “I am “so fucking sorry. I shouldn’t have lied to you that night about what Coach and I talked about. I was scared that I was running out of time, and you’d be back on a plane to Washington before I could tell you the truth. I love you, Y/N, and I plan on loving you for the rest of my life.”

“I love you too.”

She squeals as George suddenly spins them in a circle, not stopping until her back is pressed against the wall and she’s pinned beneath him. George leans in, just barely letting their lips touch. 

“Say it again.”

Y/N grins. “I love you, George.”

Finally George leans in and kisses her, their mouths fitting together so perfectly it’s as if they were made to match. Some of his teammates have started to filter out, but neither of them cares about the whoops and hollers that start to surround them. George’s kiss is possessive and claiming, and Y/N finds herself whining as he breaks them apart. 

“We better head down to the courthouse tomorrow,” George murmurs, earning him a shocked giggle. 

“And why is that?”

“Well according to that jersey you’re wearing, you’re Mrs. Weasley,” George teases, nudging their noses together. “And I’m done with all of the faking and the lies, aren’t you?”

Y/N nods, sighing in relief when George kisses her again. “Yeah, I am.”

[ghostly-penumbra]

DannyMay 2023. Day Thirty-one

"Free Day"

Ao3

Warning: (Continued) captivity. Puking.

- - -

When Jason was kidnapped by the Ghost King, less than twenty-four hours ago, he didn't think he would be sleeping for a while, but maybe the stress of the kidnapping and the subsequent thrashing of Danny's —his jail-mate, it seemed— room (with Danny's enthusiastic permission and encouragement) had left him drained enough for him to doze off briefly —or maybe dissociate, which would be understandable—, and he came to himself still sitting in Danny's sofa, whilst his jail-mate sat on his bed —out of arms reach—, hands on his knees and gazing at nothing.

Jason groaned, rubbing at his eyes through his domino mask.

"Good. You're awake."

Red Hood looked sharply back at Danny, who was now looking at him with the trace of an awkward smile on his face, when just seconds ago he had looked, well, dead.

"Are you- hungry? Do you need anything? Other than freedom, that is, can't give ya something I don't have myself."

Jason snorted despite himself, and that got him a more genuine, if still small, smile from his jailmate. He stood up and wobbled on his feet, taking a hand to his head and cursing softly at the sudden dizziness. "Shit."

"You okay, man? How are ya feeling?" Danny asked him, coming warily closer.

Jason ignored him and sprinted to the door that he had deduced led to the bathroom, and soon enough he was kneeling next to the toilet, barfing his guts out with an intense, burning acidic feeling going up his throat.

"What the fuck is that?" He asked in between heaving, ragged breaths.

Whatever the fuck had been inside him was a dark green mottled with red spots of blood and smelled of decay and rot.

"Ugh; not good, is what it is." Danny, who had been hovering a couple of steps away, said. "Is that all of it, or is there more?" He asked.

Jason was about to snap that he was fine, mind your own business very much, but his words caught in his throat, and a determined expression set itself in Danny's face.

He flushed the toilet, and knelt behind Jason, placing both hands on his shoulder-blades, sending a pulse of cool energy and something else to him, and said, his voice even, "Get it all out, don't hold a thing back. I got you."

And with that little push, Jason resumed throwing up, getting rid of that putrid ooze, with Danny's hands a balm that spread to the- to the very core of him, making it bearable.

Once he finished and Jason was back in his jail-mate's couch, taking hard, open-mouthed breaths and with said jail-mate pressing a cold glass of water on him, he managed to croak again, "What the fuck was that?"

Danny put the glass in Jason's hands and made sure he wouldn't drop it before he answered, "For the looks of it, rotten ectoplasm."

"... what?"

"Think of running water, if water had life-preserving, life-giving, and resurrecting properties," Jason's eyes widened in recognition, and with Danny looking at him, he must have seen it even with his domino on, "now imagine it going stagnant for, how long?"

"... centuries." Jason answered.

Danny made a face at that and recoiled. "Crude." He said. "How long…?" He asked again, and once again, Jason knew what he meant.

First, though, he emptied his glass of water, feeling the cold liquid sooth at his sore throat. "I was fifteen back then, so, four years."

Danny whistled low. "Dude, that's like- that's just- damn! How did you survive that long with that clogged in your system?"

"With unpredictable, uncontrollable bursts of blinding green rage, of course." Red Hood snorted with annoyance.

"That's… one way your body may have tried to get rid of it…"

"Dude, what are you going on about?" Jason asked now.

"Look, man, I'm really no expert, I'm not a doctor of any kind, but my parents are, and I've been around the Zone for four years now, so I know a wee bit about us halfas and-"

"What's a halfa?"

"... sorry, what?"

"Halfa. The other guy said it too, when we summoned him. What is a halfa?" Jason said it clearly, looking Danny in the eye.

Danny opened and closed his mouth once, twice, only to end up groaning in distress and holding his head in his hand.

"Four years without clean ectoplasm, it tracks, it tracks." He said, obviously to himself. Red Hood's jail-mate breathed in deeply and looked back up at Jason. "Okay, we're gonna start from the beginning, but I need you not to flip out, yeah?"

Nodding, Jason sat up, "Lay it on me." He said, determined.

And so, Danny did.

… later, if Danny was upset that his room now sported a fist-shaped dent, he didn't show it.

[happy-beeeps]

Hi love! Could I request a Rex X reader where reader can’t sleep so he stays and talks with her?

Hi lovie!!! Tysm for the request! It makes me so happy to answer these especially when they're about Rex. I actually struggle with insomnia so this is like a very real occurrence for me, so I hope you love it!! Also the way i'm posting this at night aw it's like a bedtime story this has so many layers

Bed Time

pairing: Rex x jedi!reader

Summary: You have a hard time finding sleep, so Rex finds you instead

Warnings: None, this is tooth rotting fluff for my sleepy girlies (gn)

WC: 1.2k

* * *

You’re a monster when you’re low on sleep, according to everyone in the Jedi Council and most of the GAR. For being a Jedi, you’d think you’d be well equipped to handle low sleep, but to you, sleep is currency. There’s a running gag of all the places you’ve dozed off when trying to catch up on lost hours (the current favorites being Master Yoda’s council chair, at Kix’s med station, and inside the youngling’s training room.) You’re bristle and groggy when you’re low on energy, and everyone jokes of the time Anakin had proposed one of his haphazard “plans,” and you had looked at him, eyes sullen, and placed a hand over his mouth. “I’m going to need you to stop talking.” You grumbled.

He got over it. Eventually.

This lack of sleep is how you find yourself here, padding through the jungles of Felucia in nothing but your sleep shorts and tunic. When sleep struggles to find you, you’ve found it best to seek a quiet spot away from your bed and do something, anything, to calm your mind. Meditate, read, once you have even scrubbed the entirety of the 501st’s gear. So now, you settle on a quiet spot overlooking a valley, out of sight from where you’ve all made camp, but not too far that you’re in any inherent danger. It’s hard to focus here, the air is thick and soupy and you swear if you swung your arms down fast enough you’d catch water droplets on them. Still, the quiet hum of wildlife around you allows you to ground yourself in the moment, to pretend you’re not at war. It’s calm, peaceful even. Of course, until the peace is corrupted by the crunch of footfall, and you spin around to face the intruder, though your gaze softens as it lands on him.

Rex walks in through the bushes, holding a canteen and a scrap of fabric in one hand, and his bucket in another. He’s dressed only on the bottom, opting to just wear his blacks across his broad chest. “Fancy seeing you here,” he smirks, then moves to settle next to you, offering you the canteen of crisp water.

You graciously accept it, drinking as much as you can muster in one breath, hoping to replace everything you’ve just sweated out. “Gods, you’re perfect.”

“You know, some might even say I was made for you.”

You roll your eyes at the quip, sending your shoulders gently into his. He takes the movement as an invitation to open his arm, and you happily settle your weight on his chest, your head resting in the crook of his neck.

“What are you doing here,” he murmurs against your hair, and you make a movement that resembles a shrug.

“Dunno. Couldn’t sleep, I guess.”

He laughs, and you can feel the rumble down your spine, “Right, so we’ll be paying for that in the morning.”

You look up at his smirk and stick out your tongue at him, and he responds by pressing a warm kiss on the back of your cheek near your ear, swinging his arms around you to hold you firmly across your chest. “How can I make it better?”

“Master Yoda would say by leaving me alone,” you joke, and you know he gets your jest, as he only holds you tighter. “Can we just talk? I don’t know why I’m so unsettled right now.”

“Of course, about what?”

You shrug again and nudge your feet outwards, kicking Rex’s helmet as you move. “What are your marks for again? Tell me about them.”

“Those?” he gestures his head towards the helmet, “For missions I’ve successfully completed. Course, I’ve had to start counting by fives.”

Your eyes land on the newest cluster scrawled on his forehead and you count seven dashes. 35 battles won. You don’t know why that fact impresses you, considering you’ve been at probably half of them at least, not to mention the other missions you’ve completed. Then again, everything Rex does impresses you.

“You ever think about what you’d do without it all, the war, the missions? When it’s all over?”

He hums, pulling you in closer, “Nah, not much use in it. I’m not meant to know anything but war.”

You swat at his chest, “Don’t say that, you know I don’t like it." There’s a blissful silence that falls around the two of you after that. Not quite enough for you to get sleepy, but enough for you to melt into his arms a little bit more, to meditate a touch and use his breathing as an anchor. After a few minutes of this, you start up again. “I know what I’d do.”

“Oh really, General? I’m all ears.”

“First, I think I’d rescue this one dashingly handsome clone captain I worked with, if he’d have me,”

“He would, always, but go on,” and he trails kisses up and down the back of your neck, wherever he can reach.

“Then I think I’d settle on a system somewhere warm, with a beach maybe.”

“Like Naboo?”

“Sure, we can go to Naboo. Then, I think I’d be a teacher.”

“Like a Jedi Master?”

“Yeah, I guess. I’d teach all the kids in our town and then I’d come home to my captain.”

“I’m sure he’d be very happy to see you.” And he is. Rex pulls your chin in for a kiss, not fueled by lust or urgency, but a slow, easy kiss that’s meant to put you at ease. “Do you mean it?” he asks, eyes searching yours for any deception.

You yawn. “When it comes to you, always.”

He grips you tighter, and sleep threatens to overtake you now. “Mesh’la,” he murmurs, running his fingers up and down the sides of your arms, sprouting chill bumps in his wake. “Put this on.” And he passes you the black fabric resting beside him.

You unfurl it and open it to reveal one of his black undershirts. “Rex,”

“I just washed it, it’s clean. It’s designed to wick sweat so it’ll keep you cool,” he nuzzles his head in the crook of your neck now, “sides, it’ll be like I’m sleeping with ‘ya.”

“Won’t that look suspicious? What if Anakin says something-”

“I can guarantee you that he won’t.”

You do as you're told, and settle into the warmth of his chest once more, surrounded by him and his scent. You must drift off in a matter of minutes, and Rex scoops you up carefully, holding you with both arms and carefully bending down to pick up your lightsaber. He walks the short distance back to camp, and meets a smirking General Skywalker at the flap of your tent. The Jedi puts his hand up before Rex can say anything, “Whatcha got there?” he smirks, opening the flap for Rex to place you at your bedroll, you still fast asleep. He ducks back out to face Anakin, who just gives him a knowing look before placing a hand on his shoulder. “Goodnight, you two.”

Rex rolls his eyes but grins at his General, before turning back to face your tent. “Goodnight cyarika.” He murmurs, the sound quick and fleeting, floating away on the warm, Felucian air.

[manicplank]

I’m somewhat of an angst enjoyer myself, so I want some headcanons about how they would grieve after someone dies.

Ah, yes. I, too, enjoy the angst.

Grief headcanons

Peppino: He would go into a deep depression. As much as he would like to stay home and never leave, he has the pizzeria to run. However, he would be incredibly quiet and lethargic. The energy in the room would be filled with sadness. He would wear a frown at all times. While the way he drags his knuckles may seem cartoonish, he is inconsolable. Nothing feels real anymore, he's not even sure he's awake.

Gustavo: For this first time in his happy little life, he is depressed. It is an intense feeling of emptiness inside of his chest. His mustache isn't big enough to hide his frown. His eyes are a dead giveaway to the feelings stirring up inside. He doesn't feel the same... He wishes it never happened. He finds himself being uncontrollably tired and sleeping through all of his alarms.

Mr. Stick: He works from home so he can hide from the outside world. Everything is too much for him to process. He shuts down and feels emotionally numb but in a bad way (if you know what I mean). He frowns wide from one corner of his jaw to the other. He drags his feet when he walks and slouches constantly. Even his body feels sad.

Pepperman: He secludes himself in his art studio for weeks. He begins to wrinkle from the lack of water and sunlight. He tries to paint, but the canvases end up with shades of gray. He tries to carve, but the stone refuses to break. With no other option, he drops to his knees and sobs, his cries echoing through the studio.

The Vigilante: The eyes of this old man that were once filled with determination for justice are now empty and devoid of all joy. His usual scowl has turned into a glum frown. He's been drinking more than usual, but he can't seem to help it. He doesn't have the energy to go bounty hunting anymore. He feels hollow and alone.

The Noise: What was once considered a strange man is now a sad, mourning child. He had to take a long leave from work as he can't even get out of bed. As an actor, he's usually good at hiding his true feelings, but no amount of makeup can mask the sadness in his eyes. He hardly eats or drinks. He just sleeps. Occasionally, he will sob uncontrollably like a toddler, holding his breath and wishing to be held.

Noisette: She's been crying so hard and so often that her face is chapped and swollen. Her eyes are deep red and surrounded by dark circles. The tip of her nose is chapped from blowing it so much. She hates feeling sad, but she knows that she must feel it in order to hear it. She wants to be hugged and comforted. Her favorite stuffed animal is dampened with tears.

Fake Peppino: A loud demonic wailing has been coming from the building where Bruno's Pizzeria was. A rumor has it that there's a demon in there, and in a way, they're right. A sad, froggish clone has been destroying everything in there, from the chairs to the walls. Nothing can quiet the sobbing, no matter how much he breaks things or screams. The heartbroken rage inside of him is restless.*

Pizzahead: No one has seen or heard from Pizzahead in months. His room door is locked. Some have tried knocking, only for him to yell, "Go away!" He is filled with woeful fury, and his bedroom is in shambles. He lives in a messy room that is a metaphor for his grief. He feels like a child again, but in a horrible way. He feels sad and alone. He feels that he has no one to blame but himself.

Pillar John: John hasn't moved in weeks. He's still as a statue. There are spots of erosion from where the tears have run down his face. His cracks have gotten longer and deeper as he begins to decay. He feels horrible, almost as if he's ill. His eyelids hang low at all times, and his usual grimace is replaced by a great frown.

-

Gerome: While his face may seem stoic, he is rotting on the inside. He wants to cry, he wishes he could cry, but he's so emotionally numb that all he feels is emptiness. It's amazing to imagine that a man made of solid stone could feel so hollow. Occasionally, he can be seen holding his hat to his chest with his eyes closed. That is the only way he can show his mourning externally.

* I actually have a fic in mind about this. Fakey mourns the loss of a good friend. I haven't really written it yet, but I have an idea in mind.

[missusmiller]

Ignore this if you want and thank you for the hard work: Can I have a Scenario or one shot with Neteyam and fem S/O who is human but is sick, they are close friends and S/O always writes poems and songs for him, S/O has a heart disease that's why they are creating an Avatar for her, she loves to sing but she never sang again since she knew her heart and since she stayed on Pandora. But once she gets her Avatar body finally she can run, get rid of chest pains, fatigue, and the fear of dying and finally can sing again.

yayo // n.s x human -> na’vi reader

contains: lots of mentions of dying, heart disease, chronic illness stuff, soul transfer scene, fluff, shitty writing, drinking and being drunk, being in love with eywa cuz shes awesome

notes: this is not proofread at all my bad. also yayo means bird in na’vi cuz reader sings and birds sing so yeah aw so cute.

2.5k words

I remember it like it was yesterday. I was thirteen years old, roughhousing with Neteyam and his younger siblings on the forest floor. We were having endless amounts of childish fun until I collapsed onto the dirt in a fit of breathless wails. Pain filled my chest as my heart eventually stopped beating. Neteyam carried me back in a panic to the lab where I was taken to get medical attention. I was thirteen when they told me I had valvular heart disease. I was thirteen when my life changed forever.

When I was diagnosed five years ago, Norm wasted no time to make sure I got an avatar. That avatar was my escape from the decaying prison I call my body. It felt like forever until he allowed me to drive it and when I did I was still restricted from doing most things. My heartbeat in my avatar body translates through the link so if I went too hard, my human heart would suffer. My avatar just temporarily stopped me from feeling the constant aches and pain.

Everyday my human body was only getting weaker and the topic of my death seemed to come up a lot more often in hushed conversations between the scientists. I could see the pity in everyone’s eyes as I walked around the lab. The pitiful looks towards me put a bitter taste in my mouth.

The only things that kept me from rotting in my bed for days on end were music, my poems, and my loved ones. Neteyam visited on a regular basis, often with his siblings or parents.

On the days that it was just Neteyam, he got the opportunity to see songs and poems I wrote. I’d hum the melody, not having enough courage or energy to sing fully. Those days usually ended with me ripping out his favorite song or poem of the day from my journal and gifting it to him. The loss of paper was worth seeing the thankful smile on his face every time. Throughout the years of our friendship, he never seemed to have a clue that my more romantic writings were about him.

Speaking of Neteyam, his obnoxiously cute accent echoed through my room as he entered and announced himself, “Y/N, your favorite friend has arrived!”

“Yes, you are my favorite friend, Nete. Always will be until my demise pretty soon.” I said with a small, careful laugh. Everything I did these days had to be done with caution.

Although what I said wasn’t meant to be taken in a depressing manner, I didn’t miss the look of pity and sadness that swam in Neteyam’s big yellow eyes.

“Hey man, don’t be like that. It’ll be okay, Nete.” I lied, motioning for him to come over to my bed where I laid. Since he was entirely too big to fit on my bed he settled on the floor next to me. I reached out to pet his hair like I usually do to comfort him but his large hand gently stopped my hand from going any further.

“You are dying yet you still try to comfort me? Think about yourself for once, Y/N. You are the one that needs comfort.” Neteyam lectures me, a stern face meeting my sight. Ironic how he is the one saying this considering his history.

A sigh left my mouth and I rolled onto my back to stare at anything but his intimidating eyes. He wasn’t wrong. I’ve been making sure everyone else was okay with my situation without even making sure that I was okay with my situation.

When I turned back around and looked at him again, it was like I could feel the imaginary concrete dam of numbness break down. What followed was the flooding of all those emotions and throughts that were kept at bay. I have always despised the way that Neteyam could break my walls down so easily.

“You’re right. I’m not ready to die, I’m scared. I’m so fucking scared.” My voice cracked embarrassingly at the word ‘die’ but neither me nor Neteyam cared in the moment.

“You will not die,” He paused for a moment to confirm what he was about to say, “because Eywa can bless you like she did with my father when he was human. I prayed to Eywa for permission and she gave me a sign. My parents approve, Y/N. But only if you wish to do this.”

My eyes widened and I shot up from my bed, tumbling onto the floor which earned me a hiss of concern from my friend. Out of pure excitement and disbelief, I quickly sat up on my knees and grabbed his face to place many fast happy kisses all over it.

Immediately after my loving attack on his face, he had to take a few breaths from his specialized mask. I didn’t pay much attention to it, not knowing his breathlessness had been due to my actions.

“I—I didn’t know you’d be this excited.” He managed to choke out as a purple hue spread throughout his cheeks and ears.

“Nete, you are giving me a way to not only live longer but a way to live with the people I love. I can be with you, Kiri, Lo’ak, and Tuk without any of us having to wear masks. I can sing again. Like truly actually sing again.”

A large grin stretched across Neteyam’s face upon my realization. He’d be lying to himself if he said he didn’t miss my voice. I used to sing him Earthly lullabies and songs in our youth before my heart became weak. Even though we were young, he would always tell me that I was going to be a strong singer much like his mother and Ninat.

The rest of the night we joked, hugged, and messed around. He even sang the same song to me that I used to sing to him as kids. The act alone made my heart felt like it was going to burst but in a good way not like the usual heart attack painful way.

Eclipse soon came and Neteyam had to leave to attend to his duties —future Olo’eyktan stuff and all that. We kept in contact for days after to prepare me for my soul transferring ceremony.

When the day arrived, I was both nervous and excited. There was always a risk that I could be too weak to make it through the eye of Eywa. But if I were to die I’d rather die and be with Eywa than anywhere else.

The scenery was absolutely beautiful. Tons of Na’vi sat in rows, their bonds connected to the ground as they chanted a prayer. The ground lit up with bioluminescent blue lights, the tree a beautiful pinkish purple.

Mo’at stood at the tree, awaiting me.

Neteyam carried my leaf covered body through the aisle and he gave me a calming smile to ease my nerves. Eywa gave him a sign so he had absolutely no worries about this.

He followed Mo’at’s instructions to place me diagonally to where my na’vi body lay. “See you on the other side, yayo.” Neteyam said before stepping off to the side to allow the tsahik to do her thing.

The rest of the process was unknown to me because after Mo’at started chanting, my consciousness began to float up and out of my body. All physical restraints were broken as this spirit form danced freely.

A breathtakingly beautiful woman came into my vision. She looked like nothing I had ever seen before. Her energy made me feel warm, like no harm could ever come to me.

“Oh child, such a pure spirit you are.”

If I had a physical form at the moment I’d cry in her arms. I felt so vulnerable. So much so that I couldn’t talk but she knew what I had to say. She felt so loving, I didn’t want to leave.

“You cannot stay, child. He needs you.”

“He needs you.”

As if on cue, my spirit was sucked from the high place back down to life. I shot up in shocked surprise. Everything was fuzzy and I lost any remembrance of where I was.

A pair of strong arms held my panicked body close to theirs and they stroked my hair until I calmed. The ringing in my ears soon became sharp, clear sounds. Sounds of my name being whispered. Sounds of the rain lightly falling. Sounds of leaves brushing against one another.

“That’s it, that’s it. Come back to me.” A voice that I’ve known to always warm my heart spoke. The result on my heart was as previously stated.

Everything came back to me.

I wasted no time to shout tearful praise for Eywa and the clan started ululating as a response of joy.

Neteyam couldn’t help the tears that left his eyes. I was finally safe. I was finally okay.

“Now we celebrate!” Jake Sully yells like one of his war speeches and the clan roared before they started leaving to regroup somewhere—I assumed.

I felt something behind me swish in excitement. I look and my face lit up. A tail. A really adorable cute tail.

“Get her some clothes and meet us at the party!” Kiri laughed to Neteyam and the Sully family left quickly.

My heart dropped at the realization that I was in fact fully naked, “OH MY GOD IM BOOTYBUTT NAKED!”

Neteyam’s laugh boomed through the forest and the sound only added to the fast paced beating in my chest.

“You are Na’vi now! It does not matter! Come on, I already have an outfit planned for you. You’ll love it.” He took my hand and excitedly dragged me along to wherever he had my clothes. We reached his home which was empty considering the surrounding Na’vi were down celebrating the latest gift from Eywa, my rebirth.

Neteyam took some pieces of fabric from a box and tossed them over to me. I unraveled them and blinked in confusion.

“How do I put these strings on?”

After instruction, trial, and error, I finally got the loincloth and top on.

Looking in the mirror that I gifted Neteyam a few months ago, I inspected this outfit that he had so much confidence that I’d like.

The top was made of colorful woven thread and fabric, almost like crochet, and it splayed on my body like a necklace but tied in the back. It provided enough coverage for me to feel comfortable while also feeling supportive since my body was built a bit differently than normal Na’vi women. The loincloth was a pretty purple color, probably made of the same material as Neytiri’s leggings, and it only covered the front part. But I didn’t mind because when I turned around in the mirror, my ass looked good.

“Your past human vanity will rot your mind.” Neteyam joked as he watched me pose so that I could look at my nice blue ass.

After his little remark I stopped posing and stuck my tongue out at him before stating, “You ain’t gotta be human to recognize sexy. Now let’s go have fun.”

As we ran down branches without a care in the world I finally for once felt truly happy. I did not have to care about my heart failing or me suddenly collapsing on the ground. No, now I was really living. Neteyam noticed the change in my attitude and it sent a flutter to his heart.

When we arrived at the party the energy was electric. Everyone was drinking, eating, and dancing. Laughter filled the air around us. After two hours of fucking around, I was definitely getting slightly drunk.

When a group of Na’vi started singing a song that I recognized Kiri teaching me, I did not hesitate to let my voice out for the first time in years.

Happiness radiated through my body. It was almost like a visible aura surrounding me as I sung.

When the songs were over, Jake stood up and started speaking which silenced the room, “I would like to make a speech about dear Y/N here.”

The smell of alcohol filled my nose when he spoke.

He gripped my shoulder in a very dad-like manner and continued, “I have watched her grow from a young girl to a strong woman with a brave heart. She has been a friend to the Sully family for many years. My children do not know of a life without Y/N. Today, I proudly claim Y/N as a Sully! As a sister to my children.”

I wanted to melt into the floor. Sister? I think I would rather kill myself. I appreciate his enthusiasm and I love the guy but come on man. I had to set things straight immediately.

“Sir! Sir! No, I can’t accept it!” I blurt out, causing flabbergasted looks from the entire Sully family and the rest of the clan.

In a drunken stupor I quickly attempted to explain myself, “I want to be a Sully and want to be a part of this family but not like this. I don’t think I could mentally handle being the sister to the man I love.” During my explanation I held my sight on Neteyam.

His wide eyes softened when he realized what I meant. My name softly left his lips like I would shatter if he said it normally. All I could do was fiddle nervously with my top while waiting for a reaction, any reaction.

“I love you too.” He shamelessly stated before he stole me from his father’s grasp and held me once again to his body. His hands were dug into my hair and waist as if I would fly away. Our tails whipped madly behind us which caused Neytiri to swoon over how in love we looked.

Lo’ak, Kiri, and Tuk who were off to the side eating dessert were now freaking out over the scene unfolding in front of them. Neytiri had to shush the three of them so that the lovely moment wasn’t ruined by their gossiping voices.

To Neytiri’s despair, Jake’s tipsy laugh echoed through the area as he said, “Well, you heard the woman! She’s a future Sully!”

The clan woo’d and chuckled and carried on with partying, the topic of choice of Na’vi girl conversations now being that Neteyam is unfortunately spoken for.

“I didn’t exactly plan on telling you this way or this…publicly.” I said while swaying with my newly acclaimed lover to the music.

Neteyam gazed into my eyes, “I quite enjoyed it, my love. Now everyone knows that you’re mine and I am yours.”

His new nickname gave me goosebumps. The complete bliss I was feeling had to be fake. This all had to be fake.

But when Neteyam took my face in his hands and kissed me so passionately, so lovingly, it brought me back to reality. He was truly mine now.

That night I was given a place amongst the Omaticaya.

A place amongst the Sully’s.

A place with the one I loved where I sang him to sleep with the same lullabies from what seemed like forever ago.

[tomtenadia]

Detours to You - 26

Hellooooo

Here we are with another chapter. Now this is tooth rotting fluffy. Maya gets to find out she is a big sis and well... her reaction is very Maya like. Also, Aelin and Rowan have to try and navigate the seas of "telling your kids about pregnancies and babies" Hope I made it fun.. And then of course we have the grandparents...

So well... enjoy

MASTERLIST

The day after the wedding Rowan opened his eyes and the first thing he felt was the familiar weight of his daughter on his belly. While still single he loved sleeping belly down and a starfish spread. Now he had he had started sleeping on his back to allow his two women to use him as a pillow. 

He looked down and saw Maya on top of him, head tucked in the crook of his neck and her arms spread as if to hug him.

Aelin was sprawled on the bed with her legs draped over his, her arm reaching to cover Maya and her hair all over the place. Yes, it was always a shock to wake up that way, but he would not trade it for anything. He was happy. He kissed both their heads and with his arm he held them both.

After the wedding they had all come back a bit later and Maya had crashed in their bed so they just changed her into her pyjama and slept all together. The bed was big enough to accommodate the mayhem of limbs that the sleeping arrangement caused.

A gentle kiss on Aelin’s head and his stomach fluttered at the memory of the previous day and the news that he was becoming a dad again. He was elated and this time he would be there for every step. It was his second chance and he was not going to miss a single moment.

When he woke up from his thoughts a pair of green eyes identical to his stared back at him “morning, my elf.”

“Morning, dad!” She shouted all excited. Maybe a bit too loud for the hour, but Maya had always a lot of energy from the moment she opened her eyes. 

“Shh, mama is still resting.”

“No I am not,” she croaked, her face smashed on Rowan’s chest. Aelin then rolled over and a moment later she was running for the bathroom.

Aelin came back five minutes later and crawled in bed nested in Rowan’s arms.

“Dad, is mum ill?”

Rowan stared at Aelin and she nodded.

“Can you keep a secret for today?”

The girl nodded and Aelin rolled on her back and Rowan exposed her still flat belly. Gently he caressed it enjoying the feeling of knowing that their child was growing inside of Aelin. 

“Would you like to have a brother or a sister?”

Maya sat up and looked at her parents in excitement.

He brushed Aelin’s belly once more “See? Your mum is carrying your little sibling.”

The girl look confused and then shocked “did she eat it?”

Aelin laughed “No, my love, your sibling is growing inside me and when they are ready they will be born.”

Maya still looked confused and Aelin thought it was far too early to have the bees and flowers conversation. Rowan had confessed her that they had to order books on how to explain such topic to a child. After the elation of the news now he was panicking at the possible question that Maya might ask. 

“They are like a little fish, swimming inside mama’s belly.” Added Rowan.

“Aren’t they scared?”

“No, Maya, your sibling is safe and they are quite cozy too.”

Maya touched her mother’s stomach right where Rowan’s hand was.

“Right now they are very small, but soon they will start to grow. Just like you did.”

She looked at both of her parents “I was inside mama too?”

Aelin nodded.

“Can they hear me?”

Rowan brushed her head “not yet, but soon they will and you will feel your sibling kick as well.”

“Did mama eat the baby?”

Aelin stared at Rowan and he nodded “I love your mum very much and she loves me and together we made the baby.”

Maya was silent for a second pondering the next question for her poor parents “Can I have one too?”

This time it was Aelin’s turn to speak up “Not yet, you need to be much older, but one day, if you want you will be able to have yours too.”

Maya fell silent and then leaned her head on Aelin’s tummy “Hi, I am your big sister.”

Aelin sobbed at the scene and Rowan pulled Maya in his arms “Now, mum will be more tired and you and I need to be super nice to her.”

“I will be nice to mama.”

Rowan rolled out of bed and lifted the girl in his arms “let’s go and make breakfast.”

“Yes! I want waffles.” She quickly got free of her father’s grip and ran out of the door.

Rowan leaned over to Aelin “do you think you can eat something?” A kiss “do you really need to go to work?”

Aelin sat up “I will be fine and I can’t leave Elide alone while Lys is away.”

“Ok, do you want me and Maya to stay with you both?”

“All day at the shop? You will be bored.”

“Think about it,” a kiss on the lips “what if I make you a milkshake?”

Aelin’s arms wrapped around his neck “I will be downstairs soon.”

Once in the kitchen Eiddwen was already there busy preparing a nice Sunday breakfast “Good morning all.”

Maya ran to her grandmother ‘Nana Wen, I am going to be a big sister.” She shouted happily.

Rowan froze. Apparently the concept of not telling anyone did not apply to her grandmother. He and Aelin had planned on having all the grandparents to dinner that night and make the announcement, but Maya had other plans. 

“Rowan?”

He looked at his mum and nodded “Aelin told me yesterday. We were planning on having Evalin and Rhoe over tonight for the big reveal.”

His mum stepped closer to him and hugged him tight “another baby?”

Rowan nodded and Maya joined them “I will be a big sister.”

Eiddwen crouched down “yes, you will.”

In that instant Aelin entered the room and Rowan’s mum walked quickly to her crushing her in a hug “I am so happy for you both.”

“Maya blabbed,” added Rowan with a smile.

“Maya! It was a secret.”

“Not to nana!” Added the little girl while trying to climb on her chair.

Eiddwen laughed and started fussing over Aelin who rolled her eyes “You Whitethorn really do fuss a lot.”

“We wear it like a badge of honour.”

Rowan smiled while cooking the waffles “it must be genetic.”

“So what does this mean?”

“We are a family,” added Maya happily “I have a dad too!”

Aelin sat at her daughter’s side and pulled her closer. A soft kiss on her head and in silence she thought about how much different her life was. In the span of months she had gone from being a single mum, to this. To have the family she had imagined with Rowan. She was glad he had been pushy because seeing Maya that happy was worth all the heartache. 

“Waffles ready!”

Maya screamed and the chaos that was breakfast could eventually commence.

*

“Mum, I was going to cook!”

“Shush,” Eiddwen waved her wooden spoon at her son “Now, while Aelin is not here,” the woman started stirring “what are you intentions? You live together, have a daughter and there’s another child on their way. Surely you are going to marry the woman?”

Rowan hummed happily “The perfect proposal takes time.”

His mother gasped and threw her arms around him “You have the ring, just seal the deal.” Rowan hugged his mother back and silence fell “Dad should be here. He would have loved Maya.”

“I miss him too, Rowan, but I am sure he is very proud of you.”

“I hope so,” he kissed his mother’s head and pulled back.

“Evalin and I were just discussing a while ago having more grand-babies. I am glad we don’t have to beg.”

*

Evening arrived and when the doorbell went off Rowan went to welcome Aelin’s parents.

“Evalin, Rhoe, do come in” the couple entered the house and removed the shoes “Rowan, this house is stunning.”

“Did you get here okay?”

Rhoe nodded “your instructions were very clear. I agree and it’s a stunning location.”

Rowan agreed “I am barely on the city boundaries, most of the land around me is under the Forestry Services jurisdictions.”

“Mum is cooking and Aelin and Maya are upstairs having a bath.” He added.

Evalin disappeared in the kitchen and Rowan sat down with Rhoe “anything to drink? I have driver’s friendly drinks.”

Rhoe nodded and Rowan came back a moment later with a few options.

“So, is the return to work all going fine?”

Rowan grabbed his drink “Yes, the first few days were a bit chaos as I had to play catch up, but now it’s all fine. The commissioner and I are working on some community projects, he has been supporting me on some changes in safety protocols for some factories after the last big fire.” The hellish fire in which he almost died. He pushed the thought away “I had been at that factory a few times before the accident and I had ordered them to make some changes in storing all the chemicals.”

“What about the man who almost endangered my daughter and Maya?”

Rowan flinched “he is rotting in jail. With the police we discovered a lot of nasty things about him.” A pause “we also stopped another building nearby to be repurposed into offices. Forty five families almost were sent on the streets and some of the ones in Aelin’s building are still in temporary accommodation.”

“That is scandalous.” Rowan nodded and then was silent for an instant. He loved to talk to Rhoe and the man was always very interested in his job.

“One of the initiatives we have introduced is to raise awareness to the fact that the fire services can go to houses and do inspections, make suggestions and in general work on prevention.”

Rhoe stared at him interested “I never knew.”

Rowan nodded “It’s not very well publicised. The previous chief did not believe in it, but the number of house fires that could be prevented is staggering.” Rowan took a sip of his drink “The fire department in Wendlyn encourages it a lot and the Commissioner loved the idea.”

“Any chance you can come and have a look and our house?”

“Of course.”

They were talking and making arrangements when a little silver-haired tornado ran towards them “grampa!”

“Maya!” Rhoe grabbed his granddaughter pulling her on his legs “Grampa I am a big sister!!”

Rowan sighed. Apparently they were not allowed to have secrets with the grandparents.

Rhoe looked at Rowan in question and the man nodded “Evalin! Evalin!”

The woman came running in the living room alerted by her husband’s voice.

“Nana, I am a big sister!” Screamed Maya.

Evalin froze and Aelin appeared in that instant on the threshold.

“Aelin?”

“Yes?”

Evalin ran to her daughter “I am so happy for all of you.”

She looked at Rowan and he shrugged. 

“We were planning on a better reveal but Maya is so excited that apparently she needs to tell everyone.”

The woman grabbed Rowan’s hand and pulled him into the hug “Both of you, thank you. This is such a wonderful news.”

“Now all you have to do is to get married.” Added Rhoe deadpanned.

“Dad!” 

The man sighed “Aelin, it’s just the next logical step.” He grabbed Maya on his lap again “What do you think? Do we want mum and dad married?”

“Yes!” The girl squealed “and I want to have the rings again.”

Rowan and Aelin were silent.

“Don’t tell me that you two are still fighting on things. I thought all was resolved,” added Evalin who had sat down near her husband.

“We are not fighting,” she replied, looking at Rowan in support and he nodded.

“We are still settling in, in this new arrangement.”

“Aelin is pregnant. Looks to me you two are more than settled.”

Rowan sighed. Rhoe was right and he really was planning on proposing but he was still working on when and how. It had to be special. It had been long time coming and it meant everything to him.

Eiddwen called everyone to battle station when she announced that dinner was ready saving both Aelin and Rowan from further talks of marriages and proposals.

*

That night after the meal was over and Maya in bed, Rowan and Aelin were getting ready for bed. Rowan was already sitting under the covers, his back against the backboard and a book in his hands while Aelin was finishing to change in her night attire.

“I am sorry about my parents tonight,” she called from the ensuite bathroom.

Rowan chuckled “It’s fine, they are just excited.”

Aelin emerged a moment later with shorts and a baggy t-shirt and climbed at his side “I know but maybe be less nosey.”

He folded his arm around her waist and pulled her closer “They just want to see us happy. They know what we have been through,” a kiss on the side of her head “Unless you don’t want us to get married.”

Aelin stiffened “I do, but as you said, we are still getting adjusted to all the changes that happened so quickly.”

Rowan chuckled again “here I agree with your dad, I think we are more than settled.”

She melted in his embrace “I am overthinking again?”

“Ae,” Rowan turned Aelin towards him “there’s nothing wrong in being over cautious,” a kiss on her lips “but if I hadn’t left I would have asked you to marry me a long time ago. You are it for me.”

Aelin was silent and let the closeness to him push away all of her remaining doubts. Rowan was right “There’s no way without you, remember?”

Their song. “All the ways of my life, I’d rather be with you. There’s no way without you.” He sang to her.

Aelin hummed and pulled him down “but I want a fun proposal.”

He rolled over and kissed her “that can be arranged, m’lady.”

“Include Maya, it will make her feel important.”

Rowan smiled. All of a sudden he knew exactly how to propose to Aelin.

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[thesafecafe]

My Treasure: Mommy May D1

CW: 18+, MDNI, none really, just bath time aftercare after an intense session with Hwa, detailed aftercare, tooth rotting fluff, mentions of previous sexual activity, pet-names (many), praise, Mommy! Seonghwa, sleepy fem! reader, (probably too much detail), story under the cut, enjoy! 

Disclaimer: I do not believe the members of Ateez would act in this way in real life, nor is this a representation or guide of their real life personalities. This is a fictional depiction for entertainment purposes.

Words: 761

"Okay princess, it’s okay. Let mommy take care of you.” Seonghwa carefully picked you up from the bed, cradling you to his chest. He walked to the bathroom, placing you on the counter, before turning on the tub faucet. He allowed it to grow to the warmest temperature you could stand, grabbing your favorite scented soaps and bath essentials after your session today. It had been a longer and more intense scene than you were used to with him, but he still took care of you during, and now, after it.

Seonghwa closed the drain, allowing the water to fill the tub. Checking the temp, he smiled to himself. Just right. “What soap color would you like today princess? And what level?” He turned his head towards you, but you were fast asleep against the mirror. Your light snores reached his ears, and Seonghwa hated to wake you up, but he had to. You couldn’t sleep just yet. “Princess? Pretty girl, you can’t sleep yet, mommy still has to take care of you.” All he received in response was a bit of fidgeting and another snore. Seonghwa sighed, partially amused. He was tired as well, but he didn’t realize you’d fall asleep so fast. 

Standing up from where he had kneeled previously on the floor, Seonghwa quietly approached you, gently tapping your cheek once he was close enough. “Sweet baby girl, wake up, mommy needs to clean you.” He dragged out his words, watching as your eyes fluttered open, taking him in. “There’s my sweet girl. Come on, let’s get these clothes off.” He helped you undress, carefully laying your clothes on the counter. You stumbled a bit, trying your best to help, but your boyfriend wound up doing it for you. Your limbs felt weak, and drained of energy, your entire body screaming for you to go back to sleep. 

You could only watch, and grumble in mild protest as Seonghwa led you around the bathroom, completing various steps of aftercare. “Okay baby, I’ll give you some privacy, but you have to sit here until you go. And you cannot fall asleep, otherwise we’ll be here longer than we need to, okay?” You nodded, not yet in the mood to talk, and Seonghwa turned around, allowing you to finish your business in peace. You hummed when you were done, letting him know to help you up. Seonghwa helped you to wash your hands, before leading you to the bath. You took note of the water’s color, a deep purple under the foaming bubbles from the lavender bath bomb and soap Seonghwa was pouring in. When the tub was finally full, he carefully helped you into the water.

When you were situated properly, he undressed himself, climbing into the tub behind you. “How do you like the water baby? It’s not too hot?” Seonghwa smiled as tiredly shook your head. He knew you were too tired to speak by now. He pulled you back, laying you on his chest. “Such a good girl for me. You can rest now baby, mommy will take care of the rest.” You nodded, laying your head back onto his shoulder. Seonghwa began washing you off, humming as he moved the wash cloth along your body. He gently massaged your arms and legs as he went, adjusting your body carefully when he needed to reach different areas. Seonghwa hummed, lulling you into a deeply tired state, but you couldn’t allow yourself to sleep yet. You had a question for him. A question you always asked, and he was always willing to answer.

Mustering up what energy you had left, you managed to get  it out. “How did I do today mommy? Was I good?” You opened your eyes, lifting your head to peer at the side of his face. Turning his head so that he could face you, Seonghwa kissed your forehead. “You were so good today my love, you do such a good job each time. You’re a treasure; my treasure.” 

He kissed your lips, and you felt your heart soar at his words. That was what you needed to hear. You loved when he called you his treasure. He used it to remind you that you were the most important person in his life, and he wouldn’t trade you for the world. Laying yourself back onto his shoulder, you sighed in contentment as he continued offering your soft words of affirmation and praise. As you drifted towards the abyss of unconsciousness, you mumbled one last thing. “You’re a treasure too mommy. My treasure too.”

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Tags: @minhyuuk​, @hee0soo , @brownsugarbaybee , @legbouk , @mommyhwa ,