#I was already to sleep and then wanted to get this one scene down on paper and that was over 2 hours ago

[soaps-mohawk]

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 38: Shattered

Summary: Things aren't okay. They never will be again.

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Word Count: 7,743 words

Warnings: Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, angst, PTSD, nightmares, POV changes, depression and anxiety, medical stuff, injuries, brief description of a possible death, language, mention of weight loss due to medical stuff, emotionally heavy chapter (again), slightly graphic imagery, illness, so much crying

A/N: I just want to make something very clear here since there's a scene in this chapter that might be interpreted this way, but 'mega is NOT suicidal. That's not something that's going to be in this fic, and neither is self-harm. It would have been well warned in advance if that was going to be something coming up in this fic. She's struggling a lot, but she's not suicidal, she's not going to become suicidal, nor will she self-harm even off screen. So don't worry. That's not what's happening. It won't be happening.

Okay, just wanted to make that clear. Enjoy the suffering!

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The scream slices through the silence seconds before chaos erupts. 

John is on his feet and out the door before Kyle is even fully awake. Simon is on his heels down the stairs, the two of them nearly colliding in their rush. His heart thuds in his chest as he sees your door open, the overhead light on. It’s bad. It must be bad if the overhead light is on. You hate the overhead light. 

He barrels in like a bull, ready to fight. The screaming has stopped, but it still rings in his ears. The fear, the panic. Something has happened. Someone got in. He should have made you take the room upstairs. He should have put a barrier between you and the door. That window. Someone could break that easily and grab you before they even noticed.

“It’s okay, it’s okay.” 

The screaming has stopped, but gut-wrenching sobs have taken its place. He takes a moment to scan the room. Nothing is misplaced. The window isn’t broken, there’s no bodies, no one that shouldn’t be in there. 

“You’re okay.” Christine soothes you as you sob. “It was just a nightmare.” 

The bright fluorescent overhead light burns his eyes as he stands there, staring at the bed. Christine is right there, having beaten them across the living room, or perhaps she had already been in there, having heard you in your distress before they could. You're tucked in her arms, your face against her shoulder as she holds you. 

Nightmare. 

The safety and security the cottage promised has faded, leaving you at the mercy of the horrors your mind can conjure up in your sleep. Something twists deep in John’s stomach as he turns, motioning for the others to back up and give you some space. You won’t want them there, and things will only get worse if you notice them. 

His heart is still thudding in his chest as he stands there, the sharp sound of your scream still ringing in his ears despite his confirmation of your safety. The other three look just as startled as he feels, standing there tensely in the dark living room. He brings himself to move, turning his back on them for a moment to try and gather his thoughts as he flips on the lamp in the corner. It casts a warm light across the living room, far too warm for how he’s feeling. He’s trying not to panic, trying not to be sick on the floor from the worry. His heart is in his throat, trying to choke him. He’s trying so hard to be strong, not just for him, but for his pack, for you. 

He sinks down on one of the couches, rubbing a hand over his face. He had been so sure something had happened, that their safe little bubble had been breached and someone knew about their whereabouts. He had been so sure someone was trying to hurt you with a scream like that. 

Maybe someone was, but not in reality. 

What is it you dream about now? Your nightmares about your father and your traumatic presentation must seem like nothing now compared to what must haunt your mind. Do you dream of Graves and his torture? Do you dream of them leaving you behind? Do you dream of dying because of their failures? 

A hand settles on his shoulder, a body sinking onto the couch next to him. Arms are wrapping around him, easing him against a solid chest. 

He’s crying. 

He didn’t even realize the tears had started flowing. 

He can hear the reverberating voice in his head, yelling at him, telling him not to show such weakness in front of his pack, in front of his team. He’s supposed to be the strong one, he’s supposed to be the stable one keeping the pack afloat and steady. Yet here he is, breaking down in front of them. 

“It’s okay.” 

Kyle. 

His sweet Kyle. 

How he’s been neglecting his sweet beta, and yet, how willing Kyle still is to reach out and comfort him in such a time of visible distress. That’s what betas are supposed to do. Mediate and balance the emotions of the pack. How have they been coping with all of this? How have Kyle and Johnny been managing in such a time of disarray and upheaval? Have they been managing it? He doesn’t even know. He doesn’t even know the state of his pack, of the members of his team. 

What a failure he is. 

He lets himself lean against Kyle, something filling his chest as Kyle’s soft scent seeps into his senses. He’s projecting it, not just for John but also for the whole room. Johnny is crying too, soft sobs tearing from his chest as he sits on the other couch. Simon is on his knees in front of him, trying to get him calmed and breathing. 

They’ve been ignoring and denying each other for days, fraying the bonds further while trying so hard not to. The pain they’ve been causing in their emotional constipation and intentional neglect is almost worse than the pain caused by their infighting. At least fighting they were feeling something. At least fighting they weren’t cutting each other off so willingly. 

“We can’t do this anymore.” He says, his voice thick and shaky from his tears. “Cutting each other off. It’s not helping anything.” He doesn’t move from where he’s tucked against Kyle’s chest, letting the comfort wash over him for the first time in a week and a half. 

How he’s missed this. 

“It’s not doing any good for any of us.” Simon says, shifting onto the couch next to Johnny. 

“Especially not our omega.” Kyle says, voicing the thought flashing through all of their minds. 

“We may not be able to do much to help her right now, but we can focus on each other. That is something we can do.” John swallows thickly, his alpha starting to come back to life, his instincts aware again as he stares at Johnny and Simon. “Doing nothing isn’t good for any of us. We need to have something to focus on, something tangible we can do. Denying each other comfort isn’t going to help anyone.” 

“I full-heartedly agree.” 

John whips around, Christine standing in front of your closed door. He hadn’t even noticed her enter the room, hadn’t sensed her standing behind them. Johnny and Simon are the only two that don’t look startled, but they must have seen her come out from their position facing your door. 

“Sorry.” The corner of her lip twitches up in a smirk. “Thought you would have noticed.” 

John clears his throat. “How is she?” 

“Settled again.” Christine says, moving over to the chair. 

“How long has she been having nightmares?” Kyle asks. 

“Since that first day in the med center in Dallas.” She says, sinking into the chair. How heavy this must all be on her shoulders. “I’d almost call them more sleep hallucinations. Mostly of Graves. Seeing him in the room, being attacked by him.” 

“Is there anything that can be done to help?” John asks. 

“For these kinds of nightmares? Not really.” Christine folds her hands in her lap. “Her brain is trying to process what happened. Until she feels safe enough to truly begin working on processing the trauma, it’s likely the nightmares will continue.” 

“Is there anything we can do to help her feel safe?” Kyle says. 

Christine’s lips purse as she looks between the four of them. “I’m not sure any of you could do anything right now directly, at least. She’s not open to that yet. Working on your bonds with each other, though, could help her omega finally settle and allow her emotions to even out again. That can help her feel safer, remove that instability and the fear of losing control again.” 

All of them share looks, John and Simon staring at one another. They hadn’t even thought about that. Well, at least he hadn’t. Christine had told him months ago that omegas need their alpha when they distress, when their omega takes over. They can come back from it with the help of an alpha...their alpha. Without one, the chances of survival were slim. Yet here you are, trying to do it all on your own. Having to do it all on your own. 

That ache in his chest starts again as he stares at Simon. He sent Simon after you, he made Simon go through that process of seeing you in that state and scruffing you. He made Simon be the one to help you through that. He made Simon be there when you needed an alpha most because he couldn’t face the fact that he abandoned you, he left you behind like you were nothing but another faceless soldier. 

He wipes his face as the tears start falling again. He truly is a failure of an alpha. 

Despite Christine’s reassurances, John can’t help the automatic reaction to your screams. On his feet instantly, his heart pounding in his chest ready to fight bare handed whatever might be causing such a reaction. Whoever might be causing such a reaction. He can’t fight the demons in your head, though, and he’s always greeted by the sight of Christine by your side, comforting you as best she can. 

He wants to hate her, wants to be angry at her for taking his place, doing what he should be doing. His alpha scratches at his mind every time he sees her by your side, giving you comforts he should be giving, but it’s his fault. It’s his fault she’s the one there with you. It’s his fault you’re suffering so much. Those thoughts send his alpha crawling back into its cage with its tail between its legs. 

It doesn’t matter the time of day, whether it was a nap or the middle of the night, your screams have a pain throbbing deep in his chest. His heart is constantly racing, waiting for that rush of adrenaline at the sound of your terrified scream, at that rush of instinct to protect and fight. He’s not sure how much his heart can take. 

He might have a heart attack by the end of their stay at the cottage. 

That’s something he’s been trying not to think about. 

They can’t stay here forever, no matter how much he knows you’ll want to, how much the others will want to. Eventually they’ll begin to go stir-crazy, itching for something to do. They still have jobs, and Kate can only keep them off the radar for so long, and can only give so many excuses. Eventually they’ll have to go back. Eventually they’ll have to make that decision of what comes next. 

He’s going to delay that as much as he possibly can. 

They can’t go back while Shepherd is still out there. They can’t trust that anywhere is safe while he’s still skulking around, while he still has contacts that could put them all in danger. That could put you in danger. 

That’s not a risk he’s willing to take again. 

But what comes next? 

What will they decide to do? Can they go back, knowing what the inevitable will be? Can they take that risk of having to leave you again, put you through that constant fear and worry that they might not come back? What if they all leave again? Could you survive the fear that something might happen while they’re away again? Not to them, but to you? 

Could they leave you alone again? 

Those are thoughts for another day when they’re inevitably faced with the fact they have to return to society and their lives and jobs. 

They have time. 

He has to make sure you’re okay first. 

You’re not okay.

You’re so very far from okay. 

The bedside lamp is on, casting a golden glow around the room. 

There’s nothing there. There’s nothing there. 

It’s one of the rare times you’ve woken before you can react, before you can scream and alert everyone in the house that you’ve had a nightmare. They’ll all come running. All of them. 

You hate it. 

You hate the nightmares, you hate the fear, you hate the constant pain and worry and the constant knowledge that your pack is right there. They want to go back to how things were, they want things to go back to normal, but they can’t. They expect you to forgive them, to go back to loving them, but how can you after everything? 

They left you. 

They let this happen to you and they just want you to pretend like nothing happened. That’s what they would do. Go back to normal life after being tortured and forget it all happened because that’s what they do. 

You’re not them. 

You don’t want to be like them. 

Cold. Heartless. Uncaring. Unwilling to put anyone but themselves first. 

Fuck them. 

The only thing keeping you here is the fact you’re bonded to them. That, and you’re an omega. You’d get picked up off the street and brought right back here to your owner. Or, worse, you’d get picked up by someone looking for a cute little omega to add to their collection. 

Or worse. 

You’d get picked up by someone else. 

Graves. Shepherd. 

If you’re lucky, they’d kill you instantly. Leave your body on the front porch for the others to find. You won’t care anymore. You’ll be dead. 

You hastily wipe the tears from your cheeks, wiggling yourself back until you’re leaning against the headboard. Your shoulder doesn’t hurt quite as much anymore. It still throbs, still aches, still occasionally almost puts you on the floor when you try to reach over your head with it. Your throat is healing too. Soup isn’t quite as horrible as it was a few days ago. Solid food makes you ache, but at least you can get it down without feeling like you’re swallowing glass. 

You still haven’t spoken to them, though. 

You can hardly stand to look at them. 

Fuck them. 

Just the thought of them makes you want to scream. 

Dr. Keller says it's normal, being angry. ‘It’s all part of the process.’ The anger, the fear, the pain, the depression. It’s all normal. It’s all part of the process. It’s all necessary. You won’t get better holding it all in. You won’t get better numbing yourself. You won’t get better if you don’t allow yourself to feel everything. 

You hate it. 

Why should you have to go through all these feelings, all this pain? Why should you be the one suffering because of their decisions? It’s not fair. They should be suffering. They should be in pain. They should be the ones on the brink of insanity because of the fear and the pain and the suffering and their omega constantly screaming at them. 

It makes you want to scream. 

Screaming will only draw them in, force them closer. Screaming will alert them all, make them all come running. You don’t want any of them near. You don’t want to have to see them again. 

Fuck them. 

You let out a huff before wiggling back down the bed until your head hits the pillow. You won’t go back to sleep. You never do. At least you have the pain and exhaustion and tumultuous emotions and your very nature to excuse your constant naps, constant sleeping during the day. They don’t need to know you’re not sleeping at night. They won’t care. They don’t care. None of them do. 

Fuck. Them. 

You want your phone, you want something to keep you occupied. It’s probably lying somewhere on the side of the road shattered beyond repair. That, or it’s back in the barracks. The barracks. Fuck that place. You’ll rip your hair out strand by strand if you have to go back there. It’s not safe, it’s not happy. There’s nothing good about that place anymore. 

It’s just a place of pain. You might as well have been tortured by Phil there. 

You were tortured there. 

It wasn’t a physical torture, but a mental one. The entire experiment was just torture for you. No one thought of you, no one cared about you. 

Dr. Keller cares. 

It’s her job to care. 

Still, you can’t hate her entirely. She’s the only one that understands. She’s the only one that can help. She’s the only one that’s been helping. Not just now, but back then. She cared, she fought for you, she did her best with what she had. Sure, she made mistakes, but so did you. She’s the only one you can forgive. 

She’s the only one you want to forgive. 

Fuck the others. Fuck your pack. Fuck those fucking soldiers who were never going to care about anyone but themselves, who were never going to care about anything but their jobs and their duties and the good of the world. 

You should have been their world. 

They couldn’t put you first. They wouldn’t put you first. They didn’t want to put you first. 

They won’t change. They can’t change. There’s no hope for change. 

You’ll just go back to the way things were before and be forced to pretend everything's okay and that you’re happy and fine and content. Were you ever really content or were you just trying to make the best of the situation? Were you deluding yourself into believing you loved them and cared about them and that they loved you and cared about you to numb the fact you knew deep down that they never would, that they never could. Were you deluding yourself into thinking everything was fine and dandy to hide the constant pain from the knowledge that you would never come first? 

The pain begins to burn in your chest again. It’s hot like acid, rising in your chest to your throat, threatening to choke you. It’s a deep pain, one nestled right in against your soul. Tears leak out of your eyes again as you squeeze them shut, pushing your right hand against your chest in an attempt to get it to pass. 

You thought you were dying the first time. 

You could only be so lucky. 

The bond. 

It’s trying to break, trying to sever itself, trying to free you from the constant pain, but it can’t. 

Maybe because deep down you don’t want it to. Maybe deep down you want to forgive them and move past all of this. Maybe you want things to go back to normal, even if normal means pain and distress and fear. Maybe you want to believe them that they’re finally going to put you first. 

‘Maybe’ is only a doorway to disappointment and pain. 

Fuck yourself. 

Fuck your omega. 

Fuck your pack. 

Hell, fuck Dr. Keller for not fighting harder, for not doing more. 

Fuck Graves and his haunting of your nightmares.

Fuck Kate for choosing you.

Fuck Shepherd for creating the initiative in the first place to try and cover his own ass. 

Fuck them all. 

You tug the blanket higher around yourself, rolling onto your right side. 

Fuck. Them. All. 

You don’t want him here. 

He does it now, usually in the mornings. 

You hate it. 

You like it. It’s nice. He’s the only one making an effort. 

He never says anything, surprisingly enough. It’s silent as he sits there, steaming cup of coffee in hand. Always coffee, never tea. He won’t sink that low. He brings you a cup, but you can never bring yourself to touch it. You feel like a mental patient stuck in a straight jacket. You could free yourself, but that would bring too much awareness, too many questions, too much pain. 

You don’t want to. 

So instead you sit there in silence, staring out at the sea. It’s so far away still, yet it’s right there. You can hear it and smell it and see it. 

The sea. 

They brought you to the sea. 

John remembered. He did it for you. 

The thought has something stirring in your chest, and it’s not pain or anger. 

You hate it. 

Johnny leans back in the chair, his eyes on the horizon like yours. He sits there in that chair every chance he gets, usually in the mornings when Dr. Keller takes time for herself and leaves one of them watching you through the sliding glass door. You do feel guilty for forcing so much on Dr. Keller’s shoulders, yet you need her. 

You’re not ready for the others yet, no matter how loudly your omega screams at you. 

You don’t want them. 

Fuck, you desperately need them. 

Your eyelids flutter frantically as you try to keep the tears at bay. You can’t cry. You can’t let him know how close you are to breaking down. You can’t. 

You can’t reach out. 

You can’t take his hand. 

How desperately you want to. 

You nearly breathe a sigh of relief when the sliding door opens, Dr. Keller’s soft footsteps crossing the wood planks of the porch. 

“Ready to go inside now?” She asks, pressing the back of her hand against your cheek. You don’t say anything, don’t react, frozen in fear of everything coming tumbling out in front of Johnny. “You’re getting cold.” 

Johnny glances your way and you immediately turn to look at Dr. Keller, scared to look him in the face. That desperate hold you have on the gaping wound in your abdomen will open and your guts will come spilling out like some gory scene in a horror movie. 

Disembowelment thanks to your own weakness. 

Dr. Keller holds the crutch out for you as you push yourself to stand. Your legs are strong enough you could probably walk without it, but it’s still nice to have it in case you get tired. 

If you fall, you’ll never get up again. 

It’s the weakness from your liquid diet over the past week and a half. The weakness of being unable to eat solid foods, to properly nourish. You’ve lost weight, your clothes hanging from your body in a way they never did before. You’ve lost the softness that marks you as an omega, but it feels fitting. You don’t feel like an omega anymore. 

You don’t feel like anything anymore. 

You’re fighting your instincts out of pain and suffering and stubbornness. You keep taping your omega’s mouth shut despite how loudly she screams at you. You don’t want your instincts. You don’t want that need. Eventually it has to go away. Eventually it has to recede and your omega has to go back into her cage and sleep. Eventually you can numb yourself to it and force it away forever. 

That will certainly make things easier. 

But will it make things better? 

No. Probably not. 

It’ll make things worse. 

But if it allows you to keep your distance, allows you to avoid them, you’ll risk it. You’d take numbness over anything right now. 

How you miss those long days of depression while they were away. How you took those days for granted. 

Who knew those hours spent worrying about them and their distance and what might happen to them would be for nothing? 

What you wouldn’t give for all of them to disappear right now. 

How badly it would destroy you. 

“She’s at war with herself. That instinctual need is screaming at her, but that emotional pain is keeping her shut away. If anyone is going to get through to her, it will probably be you.” 

“I can’t do that.” 

“Can’t or won’t?” 

Simon clenches his jaw as he stares at Christine. As much as he wants to hate the doctor and her ability to see straight through him, he can’t deny how necessary her presence has been. She’s the only one you tolerate, the only one you’ll let close. Without her you’d probably be rotting in bed, stuck and unable to do anything out of stubbornness. You won’t let them close, yet you need them close. 

You’re going to rip yourself in half, metaphorically and possibly even literally. 

He shakes that mental image from his mind. The horrifying images his mind has conjured up over the last few days have his stomach churning. Even his tea no longer looks appetizing. 

He put milk in it this time. Almost how he likes it. Almost how he wants it. 

“Johnny’s the one actually trying.” Simon says, staring across at her. She doesn’t shy from his gaze, doesn't even flinch. “You should talk to him.” 

“While I agree, reintroducing a beta from the pack is the first step, eventually she’s going to need an alpha.” Christine says. 

“She needs her alpha.” He argues. 

“She doesn’t want her alpha.” Christine counters. “He’s going to be the last she lets close, but she’s going to need some kind of stability.” 

“I can’t give her that.” 

“Can’t or won’t?” 

Simon clenches his hand around his mug, his knuckles going white. She’s infuriating, yet he can’t be mad at her. Not completely. The good she’s doing for you, for the pack, far outweighs his annoyance with the doctor. She’s right. He knows it deep down, but he can’t. He can’t do that, he can’t put you through that. He’s already done enough. He did his part, he faced his fears, he saved your life. That’s enough for him. It’s up to John now. 

John has to do the work to fix it. He broke it, it’s no one else’s job to fix it. 

“Maybe both.” Simon finally says, pushing himself up to stand. “It’s not my job to fix this.” 

He leaves his mug behind as he stalks out of the kitchen, heading for the front door. He can’t stand being in the house any longer, cooped up with the same five people. Four people and a ghost. 

He shakes his head, jogging down the steps into the gravel. He should go for a jog. A long jog. He could jog to town and back. That will clear his head. 

That’s a long jog.

If something happens while he’s away, he won’t get back in time. It’ll be his fault because he took the time to do something selfish. He can picture it, coming back to find five bodies laying in pools of blood, dead because he wasn’t there to help, because he wasn’t there to fight. 

It’s a ridiculous thought. There’s three other highly trained soldiers in the house. If anyone tried anything, they wouldn’t make it past the door. He can see it now, Price’s alpha coming out in a rage because someone dared try to enter and hurt his vulnerable omega. He’d probably win in a fight ten to one if that happened, and he has Kyle and Johnny to back him up. Christine would take you and run the first chance she could. She wouldn’t let anything happen to you. Not again. 

Still, he can’t shake that fear. If he can’t sprint back, then it's too far. If it will leave the pack too vulnerable, he can’t. 

To the beach and back, then. 

She’s like an angel. 

The soft sunlight streaming through the clouds makes her glow. You wouldn’t be surprised if the sun was shining just for her, sending down a beam just to illuminate just how ethereal she is. 

The Garrick beauty is genetic. 

Kyle is beautiful in terms of a man. He shares the same ethereal glow as his sister, but Ashley? You don’t feel worthy of looking upon her. 

“Kyle never mentioned an omega, but then again, he never says much about his job.” She gives another dazzling smile, your heart rate picking up just slightly. “Can’t, I should say. You haven’t been with them long, huh.” 

“About nine months.” You say, your voice still a bit hoarse. It’s not quite healed yet. It might be that way forever. 

“Such a short amount of time to go through so much.” She says, giving you a soft, sympathetic look. You don’t know how much she knows, though it’s still fairly obvious you’ve been through hell. That you’re still going through hell. “Christine told me a bit about what happened. I don’t blame you one bit for being upset at them. I would have left them, but I know. In a perfect world, right?” 

You make a quiet sound. Indeed in a perfect world where omegas have rights and can make their own decisions and could leave and have support in doing so. You’d leave with Dr. Keller or even Ashley, even though you’ve only known her for ten minutes. She has the same magnetic energy as Kyle, so much so you don’t mind the way the scent blockers burn your nose. She probably smells like something warm and soft, something comforting. 

“So, tell me about yourself. What do you like to do?” She says, settling in the chair. It’s cool outside, but she doesn’t seem bothered by it one bit. 

You scramble for something, anything. What is it you like to do? What are your hobbies? You’re drawing a blank, your mind searching through its filing cabinets to find where you shoved all the things you like to do. 

“I like to read.” You finally say, remembering the stack of untouched books on the dresser across from the bed. 

“Oh? What do you like to read?” She asks. 

What do you like to read? What is a genre? What are books? 

“Oh, I read anything, as long as it’s interesting.” Is that the truth? You’re not quite sure. 

“I see, I see. Well, there’s quite the collection on those shelves inside. I’m a reader too. Read through those entire shelves over the years.” She grins at you. “We could do a little book club, if you’d like. Read some books and talk about them over some tea. We could get Christine in on it too. Have a little thing just for us girls.” 

You nod, staring at her in awe. This is the first time someone outside of your little circle has offered to do anything with you, for you. 

You want to do it. 

You want to spend time with someone who isn’t your pack, who isn’t Dr. Keller. 

“Okay.” You say, still staring at her in awe. 

“I could come over on the weekends, or we could do a call if you’re not up to seeing anyone.” She continues, and you’re not sure if she made this plan before she came, or if she’s coming up with it on the spot. Regardless, you're still impressed by her and her dedication to a complete stranger. 

“Would...would that be too much?” You ask, your brain starting to wake up again, the wires connecting once more. 

“Not at all.” She shakes her head. “I live and work in Exeter, so I’m not too terribly far away.” 

You’re not sure where Exeter is off the top of your head. Your mental map isn’t even sure how far away London is...or even where you are on a map of England. Are you even in England right now? 

“What do you do for work?” You ask, realizing you’ve been silent for an awkward amount of time. 

“I’m a finance lawyer.” She says. “Mum used to say ‘you love to argue so much, you should become a lawyer.’” She laughs. “So I did.” 

“You must make a lot of money.” You say. You don’t know how much lawyers make in England relative to the US. 

“I make enough to be comfortable.” She says. Enough to travel back and forth every weekend. “Seriously, though, if you need or want anything, let me know. I’m more than happy to come sit with you and give you a break from those stinky men.” 

You’re not quite sure what happens to your face. It contorts, muscles shaking off the dust and starting to move before you even realize it. Your lips are tilting upwards instead of downwards. Something is happening. Something that feels good, something that you’ve been missing. 

You’re smiling. 

You’re smiling. You haven’t smiled in a long time. Weeks. Not since the cameras. Not since your pack left. You haven’t felt like smiling in so long you’re certain you forgot how to. But yet, here you are, smiling at Ashley. It’s not a genuine smile, one that crinkles your eyes and shows joy, but it’s a smile. It almost hurts your face after so long. 

She’s funny too. 

Stinky men. 

They are that. 

Your smile falls as soon as the sliding glass door opens, your head whipping around to look. Ashley turns to look too, perhaps out of instinct at your sudden movement. 

You’re half expecting it to be one of the guys, maybe Kyle out to ruin the moment, but it’s only Dr. Keller. 

“How are things going?” She asks, stepping up beside you. 

“Good.” Ashley says. “We’re planning a book club.” 

“Oh?” Dr. Keller raises a brow, looking between you. “I think that would be fantastic.” 

“You’re welcome to join in if you’d like,” Ashley says, giving Dr. Keller a smile. 

You stare up at Dr. Keller, watching the way her lips turn up a smile, her eyes shining with...something. Her hands open and close, tugging at her pants almost nervously. Your brows raise as you look back up at her face. She almost looks...flustered. 

Oh. 

Another grin forms on your face as you stare between them, Ashley still smiling and Dr. Keller still looking a bit flustered. 

Oh. 

“You could join us if you want.” You say slowly, still looking up at Dr. Keller. 

She seems to snap out of her daze, her gaze darting down to you. She gives you a soft smile, back to her composed, professional self. “If that’s what you’d like.” 

You nod. Even though you see her constantly every day, you’re not tired of her existence yet. She’s the only one whose existence in the house doesn’t make you want to gouge your eyes out, the only one you want to talk to, to see, to have around. If you had the choice, you’d be here alone with her. 

That’s not possible. You know it’s not. 

“A thing for just us girls.” Ashley says. “On the weekends. No pressure whatsoever.” 

“I think that would be fantastic.” Dr. Keller says. “A nice little distraction.” 

“A nice break from those stinky men.” You say. 

Both Dr. Keller and Ashley erupt in laughter. 

Another smile tugs at your lips. 

You don’t want to be here. You can feel him staring at you from behind. He hasn’t moved since Dr. Keller left, still just standing there like he’s not sure he can approach you or not. You hope he doesn’t. You want him to. 

You don’t say anything, still staring out at the ocean, but you can see him reflected in the glass, obscuring your view of the horizon. Hatred burns inside of you as you have no choice but to stare at him, even when you’re trying not to. He’s like a ghost, always haunting you. He always will be. 

“I didn’t want to try to rush into this.” He finally says, knowing you’re not going to say anything. You won’t greet him, welcome him into your space. It already feels like an intrusion into your safety, him being here. 

Is this becoming a safe space? A nest? No, not that far. It’s becoming sacred to you, though, and having him in it without invitation feels wrong. It makes you uncomfortable. 

You hate it. 

“But I just wanted you to know that we’re all feeling the weight of what we did, I’m feeling the weight of what I decided to do. We all feel guilty for putting you through that, for forcing you to endure things you never should have.” 

He swallows thickly, falling silent for a moment. You almost feel like laughing at his attempt at an apology, another attempt at an apology. Why is he even bothering? He knows you won’t forgive him. He’s probably doing it for himself again, to make himself feel better. 

“I know it’s not an ideal situation, being forced in such a small space together, but we all wanted you to know that you’re the one setting the boundaries. If you don’t want us to be somewhere or do something, then you can tell us, or have Christine tell us. If you don’t want to see us at all, we can make our best attempts at that.” 

“That would be ideal.” You say, breaking the silence you’ve held for days. It’s the first time you’ve spoken to him since the hospital, since his first sad attempt at an apology. 

It shocks him to stillness and silence. 

The words hurt, burning your throat like acid as you stare at his reflection in the glass. You hate it, how pathetic he looks standing there. Where’s the big, tough alpha? Where’s the strong protector? Where’s the person that’s supposed to take care of you and care about you? 

He never existed. 

He left you behind. 

He never cared. 

Anger begins to bubble within you. 

“I’m sorry.” He says, his voice shaking. “I never meant for this to happen-”

“You think your sad attempts at apologies are going to work?” You hiss at him through your teeth. You push yourself to stand, turning to face him. “You left me. You fucking left me there knowing full well what was going to happen!” You’re shouting now. All the quiet movements on the other side of the wall in the main area stop. 

They’re all listening. 

It’s not like you’re giving them much of a choice not to. 

Fuck them.

“I know,” He says, his eyes wide as he stares at you. 

“Do you? Do you know?” Your voice is wavering, your throat starting to ache but you can’t stop. Not now. It’s all coming out and there’s no stopping it. “You. Left. Me. You willingly turned your back on me time and time again even when I was being tortured! You leaving was torture enough and you still chose me second. I’ve always been second. I’ve never mattered enough for you to even question anything!” 

You let out a sob, the sound cracking in your throat. It hurts, but it will always hurt. You’ll always carry this hurt with you, so you want him to hurt too. 

“I asked you once if you would ever leave for me. You said if things got dangerous, if my life were ever at risk because of you, you’d leave in a heartbeat.” The tears are falling, streaming down your face. “Was that a lie?” 

He doesn’t say anything. He just stands there, staring at you. Does he even remember that conversation? 

“Was that a lie?” You shout, making him jump. 

His eyes drop to the floor, his scent souring. Good, you think. Let it hurt. 

“Answer me.” You say, pushing him to give some response to your question. You need to know. You need him to say it. 

“I didn’t intend for it to be.” He says quietly. 

“You didn’t intend for it to be.” You say, bitterness coating your tone. “What the fuck does that mean? You said you wouldn’t let me go even if the initiative failed. Was that a lie too? Was it all a lie to keep me happy and complacent? ‘The job always comes first,’ even when my life is in danger, right? The job always comes first over everything, even me. You lied to me.” You swallow the sob threatening to come up. “I want to hear you say it.” 

He stands there, tears brimming in his eyes. He hasn’t moved hardly a muscle, still frozen like a statue. 

“Say it!” You scream at him, your throat tearing around the words. You’re surprised you’re not tasting blood yet from how raw it feels. 

“I lied.” He says, swallowing thickly. “I lied to you and I couldn’t keep my promise. And I’m sorry-” 

“Don’t apologize.” You cut him off starting to pace as the anger burns hot in you. “Don’t you fucking apologize to me, you don’t deserve to apologize. You don’t deserve the chance at forgiveness. You’re a shitty alpha and you always have been!” 

You let out a sob, wiping at the tears streaming down your face. There’s a tear sliding down his cheek, and it brings you some sort of relief deep down. So he can feel things after all. 

“I don’t know what I expected, though.” You let out a sardonic laugh. “You military men are all the same. It’s always about the job and the image and the ‘greater good’ and making sacrifices, even if that means sacrificing your pack. You’re just like my dad. You never wanted an omega, you never wanted me. You cast me out and let me suffer when I needed you most.” 

The anger burns hot in you again, shooting through your veins until it’s choking you as you stare at him standing there pathetically. He thought he could apologize, he thought his groveling would mean anything to you. Fuck him. Fuck them all. 

“You left me.” You grit out, your hands starting to shake. “You left me! You abandoned me, you let me get hurt! You didn’t care, you never cared about me!” You storm over to him. “Fuck you!” You scream, hitting his chest. “I fucking hate you!” You shove him back, sending him stumbling. “Get out!” You shove him again, pushing him back towards the door. “Get out! I never want to see you again!” 

He stumbles back out of the door and you slam it in his face so hard it shakes on its hinges. You click the lock as you sob in pain, pain both physical and emotional. Your chest aches, a tearing feeling burning through it. 

The bond. 

You don’t care. You don’t give a fuck anymore. You hate him, you hate them all. 

The tears and sobs threaten to choke you but you don’t care. You don’t care anymore. You don’t care about anything anymore except the anger burning hot through you, making your hands shake. Your legs give out and you slide to the floor against the door, sliding until you’re laying down on your back on the hardwood. It’s cold against your skin but you don’t care. You can’t care anymore. 

If you fall, you’ll never get up again. 

Her hand presses against your forehead, wiping some of the sweat beading on your skin. Despite your shivers, you’re burning hot. A fever. You worked yourself up too much earlier in your outburst. She had been proud of you for finally releasing some of it and showing some emotion, but she knew the consequences of getting so worked up would be high. Your omega is still unstable, on top of still trying to physically recover. You hurt yourself doing that, even if it was necessary. 

She shushes you as you whine, fingers grasping at the blanket clumsily. She pulls it higher over you, your body shuddering underneath the pile already stacked on top of you. She’d put every blanket she could find over you, and yet you still shiver. Worry floods her again as she stares down at you, your eyes pinched closed. You must be aching, your show of anger taking its toll. 

It was necessary, but at what cost? 

If your temperature continues to spike, the risk of distress heightens. You can’t handle distress in your current state, which would mean your omega would come out, finally be freed again from the unprotected cage it's been pushed back into. If your omega comes out, that will require John to help, which may only drive you further into distress. 

She needs to try and stop this before the situation continues to deteriorate. 

But how? 

How can she move you past this without the help of your pack? She can’t give you the comfort you need. Medicine or any therapeutic methods can help solve the issue at its core. Sure she can try and lower your fever with medicine, but you need your pack. You need that comfort and stability that only they can offer. 

You need someone, and it can’t be her. 

If your omega comes back out, they might never be able to get it back in. It’ll be the end of you. All of your recovery, the fight you’ve put up against your body and your instincts and your mind will have been for nothing. 

You need someone. 

An idea begins to form in her head, her hand resting against your forehead. It’s hot under her hand, your skin burning. You might hate her later for this. It’s risky, but sometimes risks have to be taken in dire situations. Sometimes those risks pan out in the end. What will happen if it fails? The inevitable that’s going to happen if she doesn’t try. It’s a lose-lose situation, but if it works, it could be a win-win. 

She can’t help you, but maybe she has someone who can. 

She tucks the blankets around you, cocooning you in an attempt to keep you warm and still while she steps away. She won’t be gone long.  

She leaves your door cracked open just in case, even though she doubts you’ll be moving much while she’s away. 

Just in case. 

One can never be too careful. 

She heads up the stairs quietly, going slow to avoid startling any of them. She’s intruding on the safe space they’ve made in their solitude. It feels like invading sacred grounds, but it's a necessary invasion. Their omega is in danger. They’ll forgive her. 

The bathroom door is closed at the end of the short hallway, a light on inside. The lights are on in both rooms too, glowing beneath both doors, and she takes a gamble. Based on the heaviness of the footsteps above the kitchen she can guess the room on the right is the one Simon and Johnny are staying in. If she’s wrong, she’ll have some explaining to do before she’s ready, and she knows John will have his thoughts about this. Though, with what happened earlier, perhaps he’ll agree. You won’t see him, but maybe...just maybe... 

She lets out a deep breath before knocking firmly, waiting a breath before she calls out.  

“Johnny, I need your help.”

She just hopes you don’t hate her too much later. 

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[blckbrrybasket]

Run, girl, run

Artrick x Fem!Reader

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 1k

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: Art’s grandma comes over after you and Patrick spend the night

Art's grandma was the sweetest woman you'd ever known. She was the salt of the earth, raising Art to bring only kindness and love into the world. He always tried his best to please her, and for the most part he kept his soft heart even after starting college and while keeping Patrick around him. 

You balanced the two boys out. You kept Patrick in check, while also encouraging Art to loosen up a bit and enjoy his life outside of tennis. He wasn’t a teenager anymore, no longer bound by the rules of parent figures, urged on by your support. Most days with the three of you were like a dream, always helping the other to be the best they could be. Not that other people knew.

You all decided to keep your relationship private, not wanting outside judgments or prying eyes.

So no one else was aware, including Art’s grandma. Unfortunately for you, Art's grandma didn't always call before stopping by. She meant well, but her surprise visits meant quick texts from Art to make yourself scarce for the day. You always listened; even when Patrick begged you to mess with Art, you insisted on giving them space.

Maybe that’s why he got some sick satisfaction that Art's grandma had unexpectedly arrived for a visit while he was still half-dressed in Art's bed with you. The past night had been great, fucking until you were on the brink of exhaustion, and yet somehow Patrick was already energetic again in the morning. Art was usually a little slower to getting up, wanting nothing more than to drift back to sleep cradled in your arms.

However, the single knock on his door shattered the peaceful morning's atmosphere. Art groaned into his pillow, barely lifting his head to call out, “What?” A second of silence passed when his grandma’s sweet voice answered, “Art, sweetie? Is that you? I tried to call but I couldn’t wake you up.” She laughed softly, unaware of how fast Art shot out of bed.

He toppled over the side of the mattress, shoulder slamming into the thin carpet. Art hissed in pain, wasting no time when he popped back up. “Guys, you gotta go - now!” he whisper-yelled, shaking you awake. “Honey, are you alright?” Art winced at his grandma’s concerned voice. “I’m alright grandma!” Art replied, eyes darting between you and the door. 

His head swiveled back around to face you as you raised your head, blinking away the last traces of sleep to take in the scene. “Up!” You let out a silent sigh, looking around in confusion. Art was already moving on to scramble, grabbing the clothes off the floor. “What..?” You asked.

Patrick leaned over your bare shoulder with a wicked grin, having been silently awake for a while. “Art’s grandma is here,” he whispered in your ear with cruel amusement. He laughed quietly at Art’s frantic movements, your fingers pinching the bridge of your nose. You sat up with little urgency, the comforter rolling off your body. 

Art’s panic fell into background noise as Patrick slipped his shirt over you, giving you more coverage than just your underwear. A quick kiss silenced his mirth as you took in poor Art's panic. You turned away from Patrick when the sound of Art’s window opening drew you back to the present. 

Art came back into view, whipping around to face you with an expression full of worry. He grabbed your face for a desperate goodbye peck. “I'm so sorry,” Art apologized profusely, knowing there was no other way out than the window. You understood - there wasn't any other option with his grandma right outside the door. 

You shrugged, not caring all that much as you kissed him back, hands smoothing his curls down. “We get it,” Patrick mused. “You’re throwing us out like some hookups, no don’t worry,” he laughed as Art shoved his chest. “We get it!”

Patrick pecked Art’s cheek in an apology, ignoring his eye roll, before helping you to the end of the bed. His hand smoothly slid around your waist to guide you to the window. “Ladies first,” he said ‘gallantly’. Patrick watches you swing a leg over the sill as you snicker. “How chivalrous,” you goad.

Your hands find his, holding tightly as he helps lower you to the ground. It’s a gentle landing, greatly helped by Patrick who goes to follow suit the moment your feet find purchase. His landing is…a lot less graceful, shoved outside by Art. He could only hold his grandma off for so long, excusing that he was taking so long because he was simply getting dressed, deciding to hurry it along.

With a yelp, Patrick practically swan dove from the window, a mess of flailing limbs. He lands in a painful heap to the side of you, groaning. You could only sigh as you lent a hand to pull him upright once more. “Patrick,” you nearly whine in annoyance.

He wasn’t the last to come out though, your clothes raining down on him, adding insult to injury. “Seriously?” Patrick muttered, brushing himself off indignantly. You were all lucky that Art only lived on the first floor. 

Despite the exit, you couldn't help but laugh at Patrick's disheveled state, the window slamming shut after another apology from Art. Your giggles bubbled over as you freed him from the shorts caught on his ear and shoulder.

Patrick only huffed, bundling the clothes unceremoniously.  It was a rough start to the morning and you could see his thinly veiled annoyance. Wanting to lighten the mood, you leaned in for a quick kiss. His furrowed eyebrows softened some as his lips pressed to yours.

“Come on, first one back to my dorm gets head,” you challenged, lips brushing against his. Patrick's eyes lit up at the offer. In an instant, he gripped your hand and took off in a sprint across campus. You laughed with glee as the wind rushed past, any lingering stress melting away by your joint euphoria.

[sturniqloo]

~Good or bad~

summary:when Chris comes to your house blacked out,did he fucked up everything you had for years?..♡

warnings:none actually i think,use of y/n,pet names,broke of emotions,use of alcohol(pls be responsible),drunk talk..(my first language is NOT English sorry if there's any wrong grammar),angsty fluff,cuddling...idk lol‼️

Chrisxfem!reader🎀

It was late,02:54am at the clock ticking,as u tossed around bed from the emptiness in it,something was missing...someone..it was Chris's lack of presence in the bed,he went to a party hours ago,with some of his guys and brothers,leaving you at home,but in reality you didn't wanna come either.

Cold breeze filling the bedroom from the open window,as the seconds..minutes..hours..passed by,you decided to get up,turning around and getting frustrated cause you can't sleep won't make you sleep,right?

You sit up in bed,leaning your head on a headboard behind you,rubbing your eyes you checked your phone.

-03:34am.-

no texts,no calls,no notifications from Chris,absolutely nothing...your stomach felt heavy at the thought he's gone for hours without words,usually he would check on you and inform you what's happening but this time?

where is he? with who? is he okay? why isn't he active?..all the thoughts flying through your mind constantly,you wanted to text him,to check on him but he wasn't active...

It was currently 04:23am when u heard the stumbling steps on the stairs,immediately followed with bedroom doors opening,revealing Chris...blacked out of alcohol

He stumbled in the room and just fall onto bed,with mumbles,of something completely non understandable,as soon as he layed on the bed the strong smell of alcohol hits you,his eyes half open and red,his hair messy,and his clothes...messy?

-what the fuck?-

you thought..he's looking bad,exhausted,and completely fucked out.

With a soft and quiet mumble he spoke:

"mhm...hey ma'..why u still awake? thought u won't wait on me?"

his words getting in one ear and leaving through other as your mind was filled with millions of thoughts where he was and with who?...

"yeah..um-i did-yeah.."

you spoke back in a whisper,feeling tired and sleepy but his presence here made u wonder a lot.

With slow moves,he took his jacket off,leaving himself in his shirt and jeans,as he layed on the pillows followed with a groan and mumble of something about his head hurting from all the alcohol he had,well ofcourse.

"sorry i got home this late ma'...I got caught up..-lets sleep now..I need to be close to you...I missed you..c'mere.."

you suddenly heard his mumble,as he tugs at your arm pulling you down with him to lay and cuddle,with a sigh,you give in,cuddling close to him,your head against his chest,while he burried his head in your hair,holding onto your body tightly like you might dissappear if he let go..

As u took deep breaths against his chest,feeling his presence here with you made you feel better...only till you smelled it...

His neck and shirt,smell of the sweat and his cologne,followed with a new..strange smell..you tried to ignore it thinking its nothing,but the more you breathe,the more it filled your nostrils...you shut your eyes tightly,emotions hitting you immediately as you finally made it out..

Strong flowery scent,like lavender..and roses...lingering on his skin and clothes..it was something you can't miss,even worse can't mix up thinking it's your perfume...that smell..that made your heart tighten and your gut wrenching in seconds..your hearbeat picking up of the thought Chris was with another girl...

You didn't say anything,his breathing filling the uncomfortable silence you were in,signaling he's already fast asleep...you felt your eyes water,but you just layed there..close in his embrace..not wanting to wake him up and make a scene right now..you shut your eyes...immediate sleep falling onto your eyes and your breathing slowed..you fall asleep too...

Morning is gonna show everything..its either gonna be good or bad...

that's it lovies,this is my first writing,ik its kind of short but i wrote it quite quickly,lemme know what u think about it...SHOULD I MAKE A PART 2? love yall 🩷🎀🪄 (if u like it pls share around🧸)

@hoeforchrizz @mattscoquette @mattslolita @elsturnioloo @flouqiis @archiebabiesworld @sturniolosweetheart33 @chris-sturniolo0

[storm-and-starlight]

Meteoric

This was originally from a larger fic idea that in retrospect wouldn't have worked, but I really liked this one scene, so it's getting posted on its own!

Damian Wayne is ten years old and trapped in a country he doesn't know with a Batman he was never supposed to be heir to and he is learning how to fall.

"I know how to fall," he snaps, irritated already -- he has already been trained, by people better than Grayson will ever be. It's more than muscle memory at this point -- it's more like running, breathing, the step and flex and roll to come back up already swinging.

"Do you now," Grayson says, trying for amused and interested and ending up with tired instead. "Off of buildings?"

"Yes," because how different can it be, really, except they're up on the pinnacle of Wayne Tower already, so high he can barely make out the shapes of the cars below them, looking out on the wide stretch of the city, darkened smoky stone and warm golden lighting and the great black expanse of the sea beyond it all. He has seen the images of his Father surveying his city, settled on the snarling head of a gargoyle or in the darkness behind neon lights, wrapped in shadow. Grayson is no master of stealth, no darkly watchful presence -- he leans wildly out over the gap, cape bannering out behind him in the wind, and looks up.

"Okay," Grayson says, still sounding tired, and turns to look at him. The cowl does not suit him; his chin is too narrow. "Wayne Tower's a good reference point if you need to get somewhere fast -- it's got good access to most of the major roads, and it's high enough you can grapple pretty much anywhere without slowing down too much."

"Yes," says Damian, "obviously."

"So, we're going to use it as practice," and Grayson fires a grapple at the neighboring skyscraper, checks it with a hard tug, and hands the gun over to Damian. "Like we did in the Bunker--"

"Release at apex, reset, fire again. I am aware." He is trained in all the things his father was trained in, during his time before he became the Bat, but he was not trained in this. This was something he learned in Gotham, on buildings such as this one, and Damian was not born to this city, to the home of Batman -- but he has been named Robin, and he has seen how all the rest of them fly. He sets his feet, braces for the leap -- below him, the city rumbles, never sleeping -- the line is almost invisible in the dark.

Grayson shifts, stepping closer, cape snapping in the wind.

"Going to tell me not to look down?" Damian gives his own tug on the line, which refuses to budge, and looks up, and out, and down, at the impossible plummet under his feet.

"Robin," Grayson says, tired and grieving and still somehow full of that infinite, impossible gentleness, that disgustingly soft core of him that Damian has wanted to plunge a knife into since the day they met, and "I am not afraid," Damian snaps, and leaps.

It's -- terrifying, paralyzing, the rush and plummet, the wind catching in his ears and howling, the thin rubber grip of the grapple gun in his palms all too slick for when his weight catches against the line and pulls him back upward, and yet it's also-- amazing, and he whoops sudden and startled and delighted when the arc runs out and he is flying, hanging weightless at the top of the world with all the lights of the city and the sea around him, black and gold and brilliant.

And then gravity reasserts her grip and hauls him back down to the Earth, backwards. He clings instinctively tighter to the gun, cape twisting, flapping, tangling with his legs as he falls blindly back towards the uncaring streets -- and an arm hooks around his waist and hauls him back up again with the benefit of greater mass and greater momentum, and with a jolt he finally hits the release and lets Grayson sweep him up onto the roof of the next building, landing without a breath of a sound.

Damian shoves his way free and Grayson lets him go, lets him shove the grappling gun back in the holster on his belt and stride off to the middle of the roof, glaring down at the smoke-stained concrete. He has practiced this a hundred times over in the Bunker, the changeover, the weightlessness -- he has done it perfectly on the practice course, again and again, until Grayson finally agreed to take him out into the city without the Batmobile, and he froze--

"You're not the only one, you know," Grayson says, and Damian pauses. He doesn't look back, but he pauses, and Grayson sighs. "Tim did the same thing all the time when he was learning. It takes practice."

"I have had practice."

"Not on the streets."

"What difference should that make?"

Damian can feel Grayson's Look, boring in between his shoulder blades, and he clicks his tongue and turns back to the edge of the roof. This building isn't quite so tall, and flatter on top. Any leap will be reliant more on the winch feature of the grappling guns to haul him up to the next roof in the chain.

"Damian," Grayson says, stepping up next to him.

"Names."

"Fine, then, Robin," and he actually manages to hit amused. "You want to know a secret?"

"Hm."

Grayson leans in, conspiratorial, and Damian refrains from tilting himself away. Grayson's secrets are... varied, in terms of how secret they must be kept, and frequently inane, but occasionally... occasionally they are his father's secrets, and Damian-- holds tight to those. 

They are his birthright, after all.

"Bruce didn't know how to do this either," Grayson whispers, close and quiet in his ear.

"I am aware of that." There was, after all, a time when his father was not Batman, Damian knows, and his lack of training then does not excuse Damian's current inability--

"No, I mean even as Batman," and Damian whips his head up to look at him, but Grayson is looking out over the shining lights of the city, unreadable behind the cowl. "

In the early days, he didn't-- leap like this."

"Explain."

"He didn't have the training. Who would be crazy enough to teach him how to-- throw himself off skyscrapers?"

"Surely there would have been someone--"

"Before all of this? Before the Justice League? Before Superman? Bruce--

"Names."

"--your father knew a lot of things, but he didn't know this." Grayson shrugs, shoulders drooping as though the cape is dragging them down. "Back then -- well, actually, back then we mostly used the Batmobile, but when we did do rooftop patrols it was a different technique. Lower buildings, narrower streets, different line attachments, no midair switches and no big drops like that. I spent a lot of time using a grapple like an elevator as a kid," and he-- laughs, soft and quiet and wistful. "I learned a lot from him, but I didn't learn how to fly."

"But the others--" He has seen the recordings of his-- predecessors, of Drake's careless confidence in the air, Todd's reckless swoops -- even Brown is better at this than Damian, and that cannot stand. His mother told him that Batman would close the gaps in his education (what small ones there were), that he would be the greatest of his students, and yet he cannot do this, and his father is not here to teach him -- and yet his father did not teach Grayson, either--

"They learned from me," Grayson says. "Bruce did too, sort of -- it wasn't exactly like trapeze, I had to figure out a lot of it, heh, on the fly, and I worked out the technique with him -- but the basics? That's all me. Robin flew before Batman ever did."

"...tt," Damian says, because he has no idea what else to do, but he looks out over Gotham's neon-and-gold and wonders, briefly, what it must have been like, all those years ago, to take that first leap. To look up to the sky and see Batman and Robin, aloft.

"Trust me, Robin, you'll pick it up," Grayson says, resettling the cape on his shoulders, and Damian looks up at him again. He's smiling, now, and the cowl still doesn't suit him but it's less about the shape of his face or the tilt of his chin and more that Richard Grayson, perhaps, should not be wearing the cowl at all. "You've already got the hardest step down."

"Which is?"

"Don't be afraid to fall," Grayson says, and gestures out at the city in front of them, alive with light. "All you've gotta do is keep moving forward. I'll be right behind you," and English isn't Damian's first language but Mother found him only the best of the best to be his tutors, and he hears the second meaning underneath the words. I'll be there to catch you.

"Tt," says Damian, and leaps.

[bengiyo]

Hello 👋

All of your favorite horniest sex scenes?

Hello! I've been busy, so this has taken forever to get to!

I don't always need the guys to bounce around on each other and gyrate enthusiastically for it to out as horny. Oftentimes, I find myself more drawn in by the building desire between the characters, and the explicit acknowledgement of release. I like when the sex feels like it's also revealing something to us about the characters. I've highlighted many of these before, but it's fun to revisit.

Ghost Host, Ghost House Episode 4 Couch Scene

I will never get over this scene, and especially the director's cut of it. These guys knew they liked each other almost instantly, and it was so rewarding to see them reach a place where they could express that. Bonus points for discussing the logistics of gay sex.

This show has been on Gaga and YouTube for a while, but it's also now available on Viki!

La Pluie Episode 6 Floor Scene and Episode 7 Bed Scene

I liked this scene so much that I wrote about it. Again, there's a lot of anticipation between these two, and you can tell how far it's built up because Patts has to dial it back down when Saengtai wants to stop. It's especially important to me because Saengtai does blow Patts in the next episode. If you're on iQIYI, there's an extended cut of that at the end of the video lists.

Mood Indigo: The Post-Funeral Scene

These two are so horrible for each other, but damn are their sex scenes compelling. Theirs are the kinds of scenes only possible between two people you know can never work long term. I was so glad that we got back to Haruhiko in Playback, and the first thing he did was blow Rio in a car. If you haven't seen the Novelist, and you're itching for hornier BL, it's right there.

The End of the World With You "You're Soaked"

From the same team as The Novelsit, we got to experience baby's first fuckboy in this incredible show. Again, I love when we get scenes with couples who aren't ready to work, because they're allowed to have raunchier sex. They get to amp the intensity of the physicality because they need to give a reason why someone was so caught up and missed the warning signs. I actually love the car scene later as a more romantic intimacy scene, but we're focusing on horny here.

Jack o' Frost Birthday Sex

A common theme here with the Japanese offerings is that people are allowed to have more interesting sex scenes right before they split. This is true even in Jack o' Frost. We get a really great oner from the leads that precedes their breakup and Ritsu's accident. I think this might be my favorite of this list because the actors have to build the entire scene together since there aren't any cuts.

Gameboys 2 Bed Scene

Cairo and Gav are one of my favorite pandemic couples we got on screen, and I was quite relieved for them when they finally got to have this moment. We also confirmed they switch, and I love that.

Wedding Plan: Namnuea Showing Off His Stamina

No list for me would be complete without including them. I really loved seeing two gay men go at it after clearing out all of their misunderstandings. They had already had sad goodbye sex. It was thrilling to see them having enthusiastic, athletic sex. This also leads directly to one of my favorite emotional payoffs for a closeted character of all time.

Kiseki: Dear to Me Reunion

The second couple stole this show, but damn if I didn't love the way these two played out sex across multiple years between their characters. These two really suffered, and I really love the way Taro Lin and Hsu Kai captured the changes between these two as Bai Zong Yi grew and matured. This really was a solid sex scene.

Love Class 2: Sungmin and Joo Hyuk

I just really wanna thank them for reassuring me that if Korea wanted to, they could deliver.

Sleep With Me Jeans Scene

I am not a lesbian, but I share their beliefs. This scene was so good. I loved that these two, who have different kinds of disabilities, were able to have a very fun sex scene. I really like when it's clear both characters want to be there.

Only Friends: Boston and Top in the Car

Despite my eventual disdain for this show, I was impressed with Neo and Force for giving this incredibly selfish sex scene between their characters. This entire scene is about injured egos, and it's a standout scene from this show. We won't discuss the rest of the show here.

Thanks for the ask!

[iamnotoriginalphil]

Middle of the Night Conversations (Lydia Deetz x Reader)

Synopsis: After the wedding that wasn't, Lydia finds you in the kitchen, unable to sleep.

Words: 3.4k

Warnings: Praise kink if you squint real hard, mentions of toxic relationships

“You’re awake.”

You glanced up from your cold mug of tea. Perched on a stool in the kitchen, you’d been staring down into the mug in the darkened house. Everything had gone quiet a few hours ago, but left to your own devices you hadn’t been able to fall asleep. So you’d gotten up to make yourself some chamomile tea, your mother’s voice echoing in your mind from your childhood. The trouble was, you’d lost yourself in thought before you’d had even a sip of the calming drink.

Lydia stepped through the shadows, into the moonlight streaming through the window. Your thundering heart calmed, the regular level of anxiety returning just from seeing her. Something about being in the original ghost house was making you jumpy, especially after everything that had already happened.

“So are you,” you said.

“I’m always awake in the middle of the night,” she said.

“I know.”

You shared a small smile with her, her night time habits intimate to you. You’d been her assistant for a while now, hired by Rory when he decided she was a big enough star to not be bogged down with the minutiae of human life. When you’d been hired, you’d expected something more in line with your previous jobs. Demanding and egotistical, and yet what you’d been met with was a woman who seemed as unsure about your presence as you were. Rory, at least, had managed to fulfil your expectations, at times seemingly forgetting you weren’t his assistant.

Over many long hours and middle of the night conversations, it had become clear that both of you were more alike than different, letting you settle more comfortably in as her assistant. A slow friendship was built over insomnia filled nights. She’d call you to talk, or she’d keep you in the studio late. Sharing take out on the floor of her living room had become one of your favourite things to do, usually because Rory would be off schmoozing in fancy restaurants while she was left alone. You were her go to when she couldn’t sleep.

“Do you want me to make you some tea?” you asked, already rising to stool to put the kettle back on the stove. At the very least, you could do with actually drinking some of the tea yourself.

“You don’t have to do that,” she said, unapologetically taking your stool.

“It’s quite literally my job,” you said.

You lit the stove and placed the kettle on the hob. Turning, you rested against the counter, leaning on it with your arms curled around your waist. She was looking down at her own hands, wringing together where they rested on the bench in front of her.

“Do you want to talk about it?” you asked.

It had been slow going, getting her to open up to you. Over many hours, you’d wandered towards one another on shaky legs, both unsure of what the other would do in the face of vulnerability. And while she had such a presence about her when the lights were on and the cameras were rolling, it was so different from the anxious woman you’d come to know behind the scenes. The one who spoke to people who weren’t there and at times seemed as if she’d be engulfed with a greif you couldn’t place. The woman who curled into herself and grew quiet, staring into space.

But once the floodgates had opened, they hadn’t closed. You always wondered if it was because you wanted to listen to her talk about ghosts without demanding for anything more from her. Just an enthusiastic ear who liked the stories for what they were. You thought she liked talking without anyone pushing in with their opinion or listening in with judgement.

“I didn’t realise what it would be like seeing him again,” she said, “I thought I’d moved past it.”

“The ghost?” you asked.

“I can still feel him.” She shivered, “I know he’s not actually here but it’s like he’s watching me.”

“He’s fixated on you,” you said.

She looked up at you with those wide eyes that had grown familiar over the many days and hours and months you’d spent with her. You swallowed past the lump in your throat. You’d seen her when it had all grown too much but this was something different. It was like she was haunted. Ironic, given her job, and yet…

“Maybe he is,” you said, “you saw him before he was here, didn’t you?”

You could still remember the fear on her face during the taping. It wasn’t something you ever wanted to see again.

“What will it take for him to leave me alone?” she asked.

“Dying?” you suggested, “moving on like the Maitlands did?”

“He’ll just follow me then too,” she groaned.

“Maybe all you can do is ignore him and live your life the way you want to,” you said, “who cares if he’s watching? There’s only one way to bring him here and you’re not about to do that again. So don’t give him this power over you.”

The way she was looking at you was like you were too naive to understand properly. It made your skin itch in ways that had grown familiar to you. Hugging yourself tighter, you tried not to fidget under her scrutiny.

The kettle began to whistle and you jumped, having forgotten you were in the middle of making her a cup of chamomile tea. You turned away from her, pouring the boiling water into a clean mug for her. Her fingers were cold where they brushed against yours as you passed her the mug. You drew back again, pushing up onto the counter you’d been leaning against, bare feet swinging, not wanting to think about that touch.

“I’m not saying it will be easy, but do you want to be beholden to him for the rest of your life?” you asked, pouring your own cup.

“I want him to leave me alone,” she said.

“We could summon him. Demand he get out of your life and your head,” you said.

“NO!”

You offered her a small smile over the rim of your mug. She stared back at you, eyes wide, almost wild, cheeks flushing.

“Alright, then if you won’t summon him, what can you do?” you asked.

It took a moment before her shoulders slumped. Her hands curled around the mug in front of her, as if seeking out warmth she couldn’t generate herself. Taking a sip of your own tea, you waited for her to say it.

“Ignore him,” she said, so tired.

“There ya go,” you said, keeping your voice gentle.

“I can feel his presence,” she said, looking up at you, “he’s still here.”

“And you’re going to…?” you prompted him.

“Ignore him,” she replied.

“Good girl.”

She took a long drink from her mug, not quite meeting your eye. You followed suit, looking away to look out the window on the moonlight drenched night. Sometimes, when you were talking to her in the middle of the night, words slipped out that you wouldn’t say in the light of day. The thoughts in your brain didn’t go through the usual filter before they made it to your mouth. This was one of those times.

“Why are you awake?” she asked, breaking the silence you’d caused.

“It’s been a weird few days,” you said, still staring out the window.

You hadn’t expected her to bring you with her when her father died. You knew she didn’t have many people around her, Rory the only one that had been propping her up as far as you could tell, but you weren’t part of her family. There hadn’t been a reason for you to be there. It made no sense.

But she’d asked and you couldn’t say no to her.

“I suppose that’s one way to describe it,” she said.

“I guess I’m just processing,” you said, looking back at her.

She was watching you, a carefully neutral expression on her face. You shrugged, taking another sip of tea, not feeling the need to say more than that. It was obvious enough what you’d be processing.

“Did you believe me?” she asked, her eyes skittering away from you.

“About what?” you asked, but you thought you knew.

“About the ghosts,” she said.

“Well, I didn’t think you were lying, and I didn’t think you were hallucinating, so yeah. I believed you,” you said, “if I hadn’t I would have told you straight to your face.”

“Would you?” she asked.

“Just because Rory didn’t that doesn’t mean everyone he hired is awful. I would have told you and then accepted whatever decision you made about my future as your assistant. I wasn’t trying to make money off you. I just wanted to help you,” you said, “if you hadn’t wanted me around I would have been sad but I would have moved on without my life being ruined. It was about what you wanted and what would make you most comfortable.”

“Why didn’t I see it in him?” she asked.

“He lied. You saw what you needed to see to survive. It happens,” you said.

She looked sharply at you before her shoulders relaxed when she saw you watching her with an open expression.

“There’s nothing wrong with you for believing it when someone told you they loved you. That’s being human,” you said.

“I should have noticed it,” she said, rather than agreeing with you.

“Did you even like him?”

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“Did you like him? Did you respect him? If the answer is no, then his opinion isn’t worth anything,” you said, “Astrid’s opinion matters. Your opinion matters. His doesn’t.”

She stared at you a moment. You shifted on the counter, fingers tightening on your cooling mug, looking away into the shadows of the house. You might always want her attention on you, but any time you got it, there was always a sense of self consciousness from you. Like you were worried about her seeing too much.

“Your opinion matters too.”

Your eyes found hers again. There was such an intense expression on her face, fierce in a way you only saw occasionally, usually when she was fighting for Astrid. You’d seen it plenty over the last few days. This was the first time you’d found it directed in your direction.

“You don’t have to say that to spare my feelings,” you said.

“I’m not.” Her voice had hardened.

She stood, the stool screeching against the kitchen floor. You winced, a shiver going down your spine. Her bare feet were silent as she approached you but still, it was like a tremor went through the building as she drew closer.

“I’m not saying it to make you feel better about yourself. I’m saying it because it’s true,” she said, “your opinion matters to me.”

“Well, that’s just… that’s… thank you,” you said, not having the words for what it meant to you.

“Did you like him?” she asked.

“Who?”

“Rory.” The eye roll was implied.

“He disrespected you. Of course I didn’t like him,” you said.

“I don’t know what you mean,” she said, shaking her head.

“He dressed you up like a knock off Elvira when it’s clear that’s not how you want to present yourself,” you said, eyes gliding over her body before meeting her eyes, “he made everything about himself. Just look at how he acted the entire time he was here. It was all about him, and not you or Astrid or Delia when it was your father who died. He was sleazy and self serving, and you can do so much better than him.”

“Can I?” You hated the undercurrent of vulnerability in her question.

“Lydia.” You reached out, grasping her hands in both of yours, bridging the gap she’d first breached, “if you wanted the world you could have it. Whatever else happens, please believe that.”

Her fingers tangled with yours, tightening as she stepped closer. The silk of her pyjamas brushed your bare knees, sending electricity over your skin. Your breath caught and any words you might have had left died on your lips.

“Sometimes it feels like you are the only one I feel like my old self around,” she said, a whispered confession that rocketed through your body.

She came closer, her body now pressed against your legs, hands holding yours, dark eyes searching your face for something you’d gladly give her if she’d only ask. You held your breath, waiting to see what she would do.

“You’d give me the world if I asked for it, wouldn’t you?” she asked, whisper soft and broken open, wonder painting every syllable.

“I would,” you breathed out.

Her gaze slid over your face before slipping down to your lips. Your tongue darted out, dragging over them, watching as her eyes followed it. Her own tongue followed suit, an unconscious mirroring as she focused on you. Your knees fell open and you tugged on her hands, pulling her closer until she was nestled between your thighs.

“Lydia,” you groaned, almost pained, feeling as if you’d ended up in a dream.

“I don’t need the world,” she said, her fingers untangling from yours before resting her palms against your legs, “you can keep the world.”

“Okay,” you said.

“But I do need you,” she said.

You didn’t have an answer for her. You didn’t know how you’d gotten from talking about the demon that had been haunting her since a teenager to this but you didn’t want to ruin it. It felt fragile, a moment made from spun glass that could shatter if you mishandled it even slightly.

“Oh,” you finally managed to get out.

“I need you,” she said, her grip on your thighs tightening, almost painfully.

“Okay,” you said.

“I need you,” she said again, head tipping forward until her forehead came to rest against your chest.

You were hesitant as you curled your arms around her. She pressed closer, hands sliding from your legs to your hips to wrap her arms around your waist. You lent forward, pressing your face to the top of her head.

“You have me,” you whispered.

She drew back just far enough to look up into your face. Your lips parted and her eyes slipped down to them. You fell forward, sure she would draw back, but not able to stop yourself. The first brush of lips was so soft, tentative, as if waiting to be pushed away and told off. She made a small noise, practically a whimper.

Your hands cupped her cheeks, kissing her again and again and again, each time just a little deeper. You were trying to be so careful but then her teeth nipped at your lower lip and you groaned into her mouth. Her hands were pushing up your shirt, bare skin on bare skin, making you haul her even closer.

“Sorry,” you said, panting, when you drew back, reminding yourself that you’d both just gone through something intense and she’d just lost her fiancee and her father and her step mother in the last three days, “I’m so sorry.”

“No, don’t,” she said.

She pushed up onto her toes, kissing you again. There was nothing you could do but kiss her back. You were so utterly smitten with her you’d do anything she asked.

“Don’t apologise,” she demanded, her lips still brushing yours, “not for this.”

“Are you…” You gently pushed her back, still caught between your legs but giving you the space to think again, “what are we doing?”

“Something I’ve wanted for a while now,” she said, “do you not…?”

“Lydia, I’ve been half in love with you since the moment I began working for you,” you said, “but is now really the time? You’ve just lost so many people. You can’t be thinking clearly.”

“Don’t tell me what I’m thinking,” she said, pushing away from you.

“Sorry,” you said again.

You pressed your knees together again, curling your arms around your waist, suddenly ice cold. You watched her pace the kitchen, that feeling of being in a dream shifting into a nightmare. You’d shattered the moment, shards of glass stuck in your skin.

“Do you think this is easy for me? That I go around doing this with everyone? That I trust people the way I trust you?” she asked, no, demanded, from you.

“Of course not,” you said, growing smaller.

“Then don’t tell me what I’m fucking thinking. I’m more me with you than I ever was with Rory. So don’t tell me I’m not thinking clearly right after telling me you have feelings for me,” she said.

“I just meant-“

“I know what you meant,” she snapped, “you were the one just telling me to live my life the way I want to and that I can do better and have the world. I don’t want the world. What I want is you.”

“You have me. You’ll always have me,” you said.

“Then why are we arguing about this?” she asked.

“Maybe because I’m worried this is all because of everything you’ve just gone through and in a few weeks you’ll realise this isn’t what you want and I’ll be left heartbroken,” you said, “maybe getting something I’ve wanted for so long is scary because I’m not sure I’ll survive if it’s taken from me. Maybe I’m scared.”

That seemed to give her pause for thought. Freezing, she stared at you with wide eyes. Admitting it, spilling out your feelings for her to see, was also scary. To be vulnerable would never sit comfortably to you.

“I don’t want you to be scared of me,” she said.

“It’s not you I’m scared of. You’re wonderful. But if I let myself have this, I’m giving you the means to seriously hurt me and it worries me because this is coming out of nowhere from my perspective,” you said, looking down at the fingers twisting together in your lap.

“It’s not coming from nowhere,” she said, stepping towards you again, looking grim, “it’s easy to pretend something is one thing when it’s actually something else because you think you have that thing in someone else.”

“What?”

She sighed, stepping forward until she was brushing against your knees again. Her hands hovered over yours before they landed, skin against skin, cool fingers almost icy against your warmth. You shivered but flipped your hand, intertwining your fingers with hers again, looking at the sight of them wound together.

“I could pretend my feelings for you were platonic because I thought I was in love with Rory. But I wasn’t. Not really. He never made me feel the way you did. Why do you think you were the one I always spoke to when I couldn’t sleep?” she said, her grip on you tightening, “you’re the person I feel safest with.”

“Oh,” you said, not sure what to say, putting those words into the context of everything else that you’d experienced with her.

“You understand what I’m saying, right?” she asked.

“I think so,” you replied.

“After everything we’ve just been through, I can’t lose you too,” she said.

You tugged on her hands, drawing her closer until you could trap her between your thighs, pinning her in place. Something in her seemed to relax as your fingertips brushed over the apple of her cheek.

“You won’t,” you said, “but I can’t lose you either.”

“You’ll never lose me,” she said.

Her lips landed on yours again, sighing into your mouth as she sunk into you. Her arms were back around your waist and your fingers were under her chin, tilting it upwards to kiss her like she was something precious, soft and sweet and lingering. Proof you were going to stay, that she meant something to you, that this was the first moment of many more.

Sleep was overrated and Lydia Deetz was worth being awake in the middle of the night for. Especially when she was kissing you like you were the only thing that mattered in that moment. That you meant something to her. That you were more than just her assistant.

That you mattered to her.

[toji-sweetheart]

Toji and Shiu with 5?

18+ only content - mdni

prompt list

tags: fem reader + explicit smut

Music thumped through the floor as you walked through the crowd, pushing against people to take the tray of drinks to tables and private rooms. It's already been a tough shift, your feet ached from the heels.

It also didn't help that a coworker called in sick even though you were pretty sure she was lying but it meant more tips to help with paying the bills and everything else, plus you wanted to go on a vacation.

Your mind drifted to Toji and Shiu, your boyfriends who insisted on you not having to pay for anything but accepted the cash you still slipped in their wallets and paid for something else anyway.

Time was your enemy at the moment, between work and catching up on sleep you hardly got to see them and it felt like you never had enough hours in the day to hang out or see them anymore.

"Room four requested you!" The bartender told you when you came back to the bar, your stomach twisted wondering if it was regular clients that came to enjoy the club scene or if it was someone new.

With a nod, you took the tray with one whiskey and headed to the back knocking on the golden four before pushing the door open and stepping into the dim room, the walls lined with heavily plush curtains with crushed velvet couches facing each other.

When you saw who it was you almost dropped the tray. Toji and Shiu sat on the couch side by side with matching smiles seeing you stunned to see them leaning back with their legs spread apart as they asked, with a smirk, "Are you just going to stare, sweetheart?"

They were tired of not seeing you too.

Kicking the door shut with a soft click you turned the lock it before coming in further putting the tray on the glass coffee table. "I wasn't expecting two very sexy men." You teased and wedged yourself between them fisting Shiu's tie to tug him closer and kiss him deeply.

Your tongue parted his lips for a moment before pulling away to grip Toji's shirt kissing him the same. "Lucky for us we were expecting a very sexy waitress." Toji teased, his hands moving to your waist to pull you on his lap with ease, he wanted to feel you against him.

Shiu moved over to rest his hands on your thighs, rubbing his palms up and down the sheer tights before moving further down to slip your shoes off and massage the arch of your foot. "Indeed you are lucky."

Toji let his hands glide up and down your sides before brushing the side of your breast making you shiver. "Couldn't stand not seeing you anymore sweetheart, we missed you." He whispered in your ear.

Their touches and words made you melt. "I missed you two so much, I have to say this is the best surprise I could ever receive." You murmured turning your head to kiss Toji while Shiu spread your legs.

His fingers trailed up your thighs reaching the apex between them, he brushed against your cunt making you quiver as he kept teasing you with his head under your skirt. "I think Shiu missed your pussy the most though." Toji teased causing the other man to pull away.

"I won't lie, I do miss it but I miss being in your presence more than anything," Shiu told you with a smile as he rested his chin on your knee watching as you leaned forward to kiss him softly.

It didn't take long for Shiu to end up where he was, his tongue pressed flat against the pantyhose before he ripped a hole causing you to gasp and pout. "I have to get new ones!" You cried out.

Toji watched him hike your skirt higher and higher making it easier for him to see you under the lightening which didn't even cover the whole room making the whole thing hotter. Like they were strangers.

His hands worked the buttons of your shirt until it was wide open to reveal your lace bra, Toji cupped them in his large palms before pulling the cups down to pinch and tweak your nipples.

There was no where to go, Toji had you pinned in his lap and Shiu held your hips as he made out with your pussy now with slow soft strokes of his tongue over your clit making you croon and moan.

Shiu was a sucker for when you tugged on his hair silently begging and demanding more as your hips rolled, fucking his mouth while you struggled to kiss Toji as his hands kept busy on your tits.

They both picked you apart, teasing with the lightest touches before following through with what you wanted the most only to keep you on edge again. "We know you've been having a tough night at work, we wanted to make it better." Toji whispered against your lips.

You gasped and clung to him, grateful that they were here. "I'm so close!" Shiu knew it with the way your cunt squeezed his fingers, your slick dripping down onto Toji's lap, a reminder of what happened.

"I know, shh, just let go, pretty girl." Toji cooed brushing his hand over your hair, petting you gently as you succumbed to a toe-curling orgasm that they helped you ride out with soothing touches.

You lay panting in Toji's lap still feeling boneless and tired. "How am I supposed to go back to work now?" You asked with glassy eyes.

Shiu sat up and fixed your skirt before buttoning up your shirt. "We got that handled, why don't you lay here for a moment and I'll go get the car for us?" He suggested standing up to bend over and kiss you.

"You two are something else, thank you though." Both men shared a knowing glance before Shiu left the room still able to taste you.

feedback such as comments and reblogs are highly appreciated, those kind words mean a lot and encourage me to do more writing ♡

[kangshxrtie]

ch. 24 ⤍ go to sleep

"yunjin!" you exclaimed quietly as you stepped out of the uber.

yunjin had come outside to greet you when you texted her that you were down the street, wanting to avoid waking everyone in the house by ringing the doorbell.

"y/n!" she rushed over, wrapping you in a warm hug.

"i'm gonna be honest, i didn't think you would actually come," yunjin said once you both broke apart.

you smiled, shrugging a little. "i almost didn't, but then i thought, why stay home and do nothing when i could hang out with you?"

"well, i'm glad you did!" yunjin beamed, linking her arm with yours as you both walked toward the house. "let's go inside!"

once inside, yunjin kicked off her shoes and padded over to the couch, motioning for you to join her. you slipped off your shoes and set your bag on the floor before flopping down next to her.

"so, what's the plan for tonight?" yunjin asked, grabbing a blanket and wrapping it around her shoulders.

"i don't know; this is your house," you shrugged playfully.

"movie?" yunjin suggested.

"yeah, i did that the last time i was here too," you chuckled.

yunjin looked confused for a second but then her face lit up with realization. "i forgot kazuha snuck you in here before!"

"and now you're sneaking me in. i really am working my way up le sserafim," you joked, leaning back against the couch.

"stop!" yunjin laughed, shaking her head at your comment.

as the laughter faded, yunjin's expression turned thoughtful. "honestly, though, it's nice to have you here. we've never really hung out alone before."

you nodded. "yeah, it's nice."

yunjin smiled, her eyes softening. "me too. but what do you want to watch?"

you thought about it for a second. "how about a classic rom-com? something light and funny?"

"i was hoping you would say that!" yunjin agreed, reaching over to grab the remote and scrolling through the streaming service.

she went into the kitchen to grab some snacks and drinks, returning with a spread that made your mouth water. after setting everything up on the coffee table, she flopped back onto the couch and started the movie.

as the opening credits rolled, you sank into the cushions, feeling completely at ease. you exchanged glances and playful comments throughout the film, laughter echoing through the cozy living room.

after watching a specific scene and with some drinks in both of your systems, yunjin turned to you, her expression bright. "we should recreate this scene! i feel like we would totally fuck up the dance."

you burst out laughing. "i'd be down!"

yunjin giggled, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "i think we can learn this tonight."

"can we post it?" you asked.

"fuck yeah!" yunjin agreed.

and that's how you two ended up recording a dance video that you'd definitely regret come morning—or when either one of you sobered up just a little bit.

you both cleared a little space in the living room, giggling and bumping into each other as you set up the phone to record. yunjin hit play, and as the music started, you both attempted to follow the choreography.

"wait, wait! i'm totally lost already!" you exclaimed, laughing so hard you could barely stand.

"just follow my lead!" yunjin called back. "i promise i'll make it look good!"

you both started again, determined to get at least one solid take. but every time the song hit a particularly catchy beat and you'd make eye contact with yunjin, you couldn't help but break into laughter, causing you to forget the steps entirely.

"okay, okay, focus this time!" yunjin said, trying to catch her breath. "let's do it on three. one... two... three!"

the music started, and this time, you actually managed to keep up for a few counts. but as the chorus hit, you both went wild, completely losing it again.

"why are we so bad at this?!" you said between laughs.

"i think we're doing great!" yunjin insisted, not able to stop hearslf from laughing. "just imagine how funny this is going to be later!"

after what felt like countless attempts, you finally managed to get a somewhat decent take, even if you both did look stupid as fuck in it. yunjin stopped the recording and flopped back onto the couch, breathless.

"i knew we would fuck that up," she said, collapsing dramatically onto the cushions.

"definitely the best dancers," you joked, downing the rest of your drink.

"seriously, though," yunjin said after a few moments of silence, her tone shifting a bit, "thanks for coming over. i really needed this."

you turned to her, appreciating the sincerity in her voice. "me too. i always have a good time with you."

she smiled softly, and you couldn't help but feel grateful for this unexpected evening together.

after the movie wrapped up, you both tackled the mess of empty drink containers and snack wrappers, laughing as you raced to clean up. but as the drinks faded off, you started to feel the weight of exhaustion tugging at you. you figured you'd just sleep on the couch, but yunjin wouldn't let you.

"no way you're sleeping on the couch," she insisted, giving you a pointed look. "you're coming to my bed."

you opened your mouth to protest, but she was already pulling you toward her room. once there, she placed a pillow between you two and declared it a "lesbian prevention pillow."

you burst out laughing at her ridiculousness. "seriously, yunjin"

"can't have kazuha getting jealous," she teased, winking.

you couldn't stop smiling as you settled into her bed, the pillow a silly barrier between you. the comfort of the sheets made it hard to resist the pull of sleep.

"goodnight, yunjin," you said, turning to face her.

"goodnight, y/n. sweet dreams!" she replied.

with the gentle sound of her breathing beside you, you closed your eyes, feeling safe and content. you drifted off to sleep with a smile on your face.

the next morning, you were sitting in the le sserafim living room, waiting for yunjin to wake up, chatting with your manager about brand deals and new projects you were working on. you had just sent your last message when kazuha crept up behind you.

"y/n?" she said, causing you to jump in your seat.

"hi, zuha," you greeted her, a smile spreading across your face.

"what are you doing here? are you here for me?" she asked, her expression full of confusion as she pointed to herself.

"i hung out with yunjin last night, so i spent the night here. just waiting for her to wake up now," you explained.

kazuha pouted, crossing her arms. "i told you to go to sleep last night! and not only did you ignore that, but you hung out with my roommate."

"jealous?" you teased.

"of course i am," she said.

"don't be. we just hung out as friends," you reassured her, chuckling softly. "but what are you doing up this early?"

"i told you, i wake up early," kazuha replied, plopping down next to you. "what are you doing, though?"

"just talking to my manager about new projects and stuff," you told her, turning to face her.

"oooh, any spoilers?" kazuha asked, her eyes lighting up with curiosity.

"for you?" you thought for a moment. "maybe... but only if they go through."

"okay, i hope it happens! you deserve it," kazuha said, her tone earnest.

"thank you," you replied, giving her an appreciative smile.

just then, you felt the tips of kazuha's fingertips slowly trail up your arm. your heart sped up as her fingers inched closer to your face. she reached the lower part of your cheek and cupped it, making your breath hitch.

the two of you were close enough that you could feel kazuha's breath, the space between you charged with a warmth that made your skin tingle.

"zuha..." you began to say, but before you could finish, kazuha closed the distance with a soft kiss. you wasted no time kissing her back, every sensation heightened.

kazuha backed you up until the back of your legs hit the bed. you slowly sat down, letting her climb into your lap, her arm snaking around your neck as she did. you instinctively moved your hand to her hips, pulling her closer as you both continued to kiss.

soon enough, you were tugging kazuha's sweater over her head, your hands exploring her bare sides. she let out a soft moan at your touch. you moved your lips down to her jawline, and you continued down to her collarbone, placing several gentle hickeys in that area. kazuha gasped softly, her head tilting back in delight, wanting to feel your lips on hers again. she pulled you back in for another kiss, your tongues dancing together in a very heated kiss.

but before you could go any further, you were rudely jolted awake by yunjin yelling at you to wake up.

"what do you want?" you mumbled, your voice still heavy with sleep as you barely opened your eyes.

"sakura is making breakfast for us, and you need to wake up so we can all eat together," yunjin replied.

you groaned, making no motion to get up. the only thing on your mind was that dream you just had—a particularly vivid one about kazuha. a smile crept onto your face as you replayed the scenes in your head.

you just wanted to make that dream a reality.

but that felt too far-fetched; you two had only met a couple of weeks ago. sure, there had been some playful flirting, and you'd even been on a date, but that was just for a bit... right?

of course, it had to. or that's what you tried to tell yourself. you couldn't help but fall for someone who was incredibly pretty, sweet, funny, and just all-around a good person. you could fall for her, but not kazuha. you doubted she could even see you that way.

"ma'am," yunjin snapped you out of your thoughts. "are you gonna get up?"

"sorry, i'm just trying to recover from this dream i had," you said, shaking your head to clear your mind.

it didn't matter; it was just a dream, and that's all it would ever be.

"oh, what kind of dream was it? was it a bad one or something?" yunjin asked, noticing the dazed look on your face.

"oh no! definitely not!" you exclaimed, shaking your head. "it was actually a really good dream."

you tried not to sound too excited, but that clearly didn't work.

"wait... was it—" yunjin paused, trying to stifle a laugh. "did i wake you up from a sex dream?"

"shut up!" you said, grabbing the pillow from under your neck and tossing it at her as she burst into laughter.

"who was it?" yunjin immediately asked once she calmed down.

"none of your business," you said, covering your face with your hands.

"come on, tell me, please," she pleaded, moving to sit on the edge of the bed.

"i can't tell you. you might tell them," you mumbled, avoiding eye contact with her.

"i promise i won't," yunjin said, her tone serious.

finally, you turned to look her in the eye. "it was kazuha."

"oh my god," yunjin said, genuinely shocked.

"i know! i'm shocked too! it was so random; it's never happened before!" you added quickly.

"so i was onto something that one day," yunjin said, unable to hide her grin.

"shut up. it was just one dream," you groaned.

"but you had to think about her for that dream to even happen," yunjin countered.

"true," you admitted, trying to avoid eye contact again. you really didn't want to discuss this.

"well, i would love to talk more about this, but breakfast is ready," yunjin said, checking her phone after reading a message from the group chat.

"thank god, 'cause i didn't want to talk about it anymore," you said, standing up and heading to the bathroom to freshen up before making your way to the kitchen.

as you entered, yunjin noticed how you tensed up whenever kazuha came near.

quickly, yunjin took the seat next to you before kazuha could. "sorry, zuha. she's my guest right now."

"you know i could just sit on the other side, right?" kazuha said with a confused expression on her face as she walked around to the left side of you.

"yeah, obviously," yunjin nodded.

you tried to focus on your plate, but kazuha's presence sent your heart racing again, thoughts of the dream creeping back in. once everyone was settled at the kitchen table, all your nerves went away from the comfortable vibe. 

"i saw the video you posted last night!" eunchae said, trying to contain her laughter as she pulled out her phone. the rest of the table leaned in to watch.

yunjin and you exchanged quick glances, suddenly remembering the dance session you'd filmed. "oh gosh, that!" yunjin laughed, "i totally forgot about it!"

"what were we thinking?" you chimed in, shaking your head to hide your embarrassment. "we looked so dumb!"

chaewon raised an eyebrow, clearly entertained. "i thought it was great! like, who knew you could both be so bad?"

"yeah, that was hilarious!" sakura added, chuckling. "when's the next yunjin-y/n dance collab happening?"

kazuha sat beside you, her smile teasing. "having regrets now?"

you shrugged, feeling the warmth of her gaze. "we really thought we were fucking it up. we were not."

as the conversation flowed, you got lost in the playful banter, especially when kazuha leaned in a little closer, making your heart race. at one point, as you both reached for the last piece of bacon at the same time, your hands brushed against each other. you both paused, and suddenly, a weird tension filled the space between you. 

kazuha smiled shyly, and before you knew it, you found yourself intertwining your fingers with hers under the table. the warmth of her hand made your heart flutter, and you tried to focus on what everyone else was saying.

"you should join us for breakfast more often," chaewon said, breaking the moment, "and stop sneaking in at night like we don't know!"

"it's not my fault these girls only invite me after hours!" you shot back jokingly.

"but definitely," you agreed, giving kazuha's hand a gentle squeeze, your heart racing a little more.

yunjin caught sight of the two of you, a knowing smirk on her face, but she held her tongue for now, letting you two have your moment.

you were planning to head home after breakfast since yunjin had something she needed to film. but then kazuha invited you to hang out in her room, and honestly, how could you say no? yunjin practically pushed you towards kazuha, eager for you to go with her.

now you were sitting on the edge of kazuha's bed, feeling a mix of nerves and excitement as she laid down at the foot of the bed right by you. if you laid down too, you'd be face to face.

"you know, i'm kinda jealous that you snuck in with yunjin last night," kazuha admitted, breaking the silence. that felt kinda familiar...

"she was the only one who wanted to hang out with me," you replied, trying to keep it light.

"i told you to go to sleep," kazuha said. that might've been the exact words she said during your dream.

"i tried, but i couldn't," you admitted.

"will you spend the night with me tonight then?" she asked, her eyes sparkling with hope.

"i'd have to see if i have anything scheduled," you told her, keeping it casual.

"look now then!" kazuha gestured, handing you your phone that was conveniently near her.

you took your phone, trying to ignore how your hand was shaking. unlocking it, you checked your schedule and, of course, it was completely clear. because why wouldn't it be on a random saturday?

"i have nothing," you said, setting your phone back down.

"perfect! you can stay here then," kazuha said, her smile widening.

"yeah," you mumbled.

"you can get comfortable, you know," kazuha teased. "i give you permission to lay on my bed."

"oh, yeah." you lay down on your side, feet dangling off the bed.

"yeah, i like this better," she said, settling into a more relaxed position.

you both stayed like that for a while, the tv playing some random show in the background. you tried to act like you were paying attention, but all you could focus on was how close kazuha was and how unreal it felt to be on her bed. she occasionally glanced over at you, and each time, your heart did a little flip.

and you don't know how the next part happened but eventually, you two were cuddling on her bed. it just happened so naturally at one point.

you heard kazuha shift, her hand grazing the side of your face. her fingers traced over your cheeks and jaw, stopping at your chin before she leaned in and kissed you.

you grabbed the front of her shirt, pulling her closer, craving more of her warmth.

kazuha moved over you, one knee slipping between your thighs. one hand held herself up while the other cradled your cheek, and every touch felt electric. her kisses were heated, and every little whine when you pulled apart just made you want more. but then everything paused, a moment of stillness when her hand left your neck and rested at the top of your shirt.

she pulled away, lips barely brushing against yours, and you could feel the heat radiating between you.

kazuha shifted to straddle you, fingers grazing over your skin, and suddenly, you had to pull away. "wait? is this real?"

"of course it is," kazuha giggled, clearly confused.

you pinched yourself just to make sure. it felt too good to be true like this was another dream. but nope, this was real, and it was happening.

you blinked at her, still trying to wrap your head around everything. "so it isn't a dream this time?"

kazuha raised an eyebrow. "this time?"

"don't worry about it," you waved it off, not wanting to get into it.

"okay..." she seemed curious but stopped herself. "so we're good?"

"yeah, i just needed to clarify that for myself," you said, feeling a bit more at ease.

"good." her fingers traced over your skin, sending shivers down your spine. "i was kinda worried you'd think i was joking or something."

"why would i think that?" you shook your head, your heart racing as her gaze locked onto yours.

kazuha giggled again, that sound making everything feel surreal. "i don't know. i wasn't sure if you were serious about our... whatever this is."

"whatever this is," you echoed, your pulse quickening. "i've been questioning your feelings for a while, and now i finally know."

she leaned in closer, and you could feel the warmth radiating off her. "so, what do you want to do now?" kazuha asked, her voice softening.

"i mean..." you hesitated, your mind racing. "i didn't expect to end up here, you know?"

kazuha smirked, clearly enjoying your flustered state. "yeah, me neither. but now that we are... i think we should just enjoy it."

"right, enjoy it," you repeated, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness.

still straddling you, kazuha leaned down, brushing her lips against yours once more, slow and teasing. you kissed her back, letting the moment sink in. every touch felt electric, every breath a little more urgent.

as you pulled away, you couldn't help but grin. "so, this is how it is, huh?"

"yup," kazuha said, her cheeks flushed. "i'd like to do this more often and see where it could go—maybe even become something more?"

"maybe even something more," you confirmed, your heart racing at the thought.

ALL CHAPTERS !!! | NEXT CH !!!

[air--so--sweet]

I was getting my sleep schedule back on track...and then I got a strike of inspiration for my fix it fic...and now it's 3am...

[piplupod]

i am going to be soooo fucked for this therapy appt _(:_」∠)_

[asummersday]

clearly the only way im getting chapter 2 out is by being more stubborn than my procrastination. i've decided that i WILL post it tonight.

i am very good at being stubborn. it's also 11pm and i have uhhh ~3 (??) scenes to write. plus editing. current WC is 5k.

[eupheme]

— trouble will find me

[part ii | masterlist]

bodyguard!logan x mobster’s daughter!reader

rated e - 3k

tags: 70s era, dofp/bonedaddy!logan, bodyguard!logan, reader is the daughter of a mobster, reader is shorter than Logan, club setting, use of alcohol, cigar smoking, mutual pining, flirting, light brat taming!logan, references to violence, competence kink, semi-public vaginal fingering, kissing, forbidden relationship

a/n: I can’t stop thinking about dofp!logan sleeping with the girl he’s guarding, this is inspired by that scene! huge thank you to @pr0ximamidnight who let me chit chat about this little idea. you are amazing! 💖💕

His eyes darken. Fingers pinching against your skin, as he adjusts his grip, “‘s a bad idea, sweetheart. Supposed to keep you out of trouble.”

Your hands skate lower, fingers tracing the edge of his belt buckle. His nostrils flare - a warning, though he does not move.

“Supposed to keep me out of trouble,” You hum, “But what if I want a little in me?”

You can feel his eyes follow you.

Which shouldn’t really be surprising. It's his job, of course. Keep an eye on you, keep you safe.

But there’s something in the way he watches.

A curl of smoke from a lit cigar. Fingers tracing the rim of a half-downed whisky, a worn leather jacket thrown over a broad shoulder. The tilt of his chin when your eyes meet his - dark and narrowed, missing nothing. Slipping over you like the soft silk of your dress.

Indulging, almost. Unashamed.

You might have a crush.

You're trying not to think about it too much.

Tonight, you're just trying to enjoy the after-party.

It's all bright lights.

The room is bathed in pinks and yellows and flashing red. Disco club music pumped through the speakers, the panels of the floor flickering to the beat. You've been here for two hours already. Nursing tequila sunrises and pink squirrels. Sweat sticking to the nape of your neck, as the minutes tick by, bleeding past midnight.

He's not going to stop you, just yet. You can have your fun tonight - sway to the beat of the music - as long as you play by the rules.

Logan is so different from the ones before him.

Tripping over their feet to check on you. Breathing down your neck, with their padded-shoulder suits smelling like cigarettes and cheap cologne. Too afraid for themselves, of your father, to actually do a good job of protecting you.

Stifling and all too willing to tell you yes to anything.

It was exhausting.

Logan had come recommended - an acquaintance of a friend. He'd 'get the job done' from what you heard. Motivated. Needed the cash and would listen, no questions asked.

Just the type your father thought he could sway - a half-wild guard dog, his salary a leash. Heeling at the click of a tongue, the snap of fingers.

It's not how you saw him, though.

His silence was not obedience. There was nothing bought about this man - watching you from the line of leather booths along the wall.

You've wondered if maybe - you're just desperate to find some form of kindred spirit in someone. Too used to feeling like an accessory instead of a person. Your appearance at your father's events drove home his image. The good, family man who was oh so generous with his time and money.

Articles were written weekly about how philanthropic he was.

You had no idea if anything ever came from the numerous events you hosted - an attempt at doing something with your education. How much was skimmed off your blood, sweat, and tears, funneled back into what he did best.

Maybe you both saw through the bullshit.

He'll last longer than the others, at least.

More than once you've been halfway out the door, headed off to East Village or SoHo, only for him to catch you by the scruff of your sweater - whisking you back inside or into the Lincoln Town Car before you realized what happened.

An angry fist connecting with the nose of a man who had gotten too close at a gala last week. Cornering you in the coat room. Logan, charging in like a snarling beast when you had whimpered his name - red dripping down to stain the pressed white collar as the man was hauled away.

You’ve been thinking about that for days.

There was no sucking up. No flashing of a holster under his arm, some grandiose promise that you don't need to worry. You've never even seen Logan near a weapon but somehow, you feel more safe with him than you ever have with anyone else.

But this bit of internal tenderness that has sprouted, paired with his competency, has been seriously cramping your style.

It’s been enough that he's been hard to get out of your mind. Two weeks of teasing and poking at the limits set. Never giving you much, with that glare - thick arms crossed over his chest. A little thrill rippling up your spine, when his voice goes low and gruff.

The lights go dim, as the music begins to slow.

With the way your eyes wander, you know he sees you when you pick up a partner.

A man that moves with you, peeling off to crowd your space after your hips swivel with the hustle. His hand dipping low from where it rests on the small of your back.

Bold, when he bends to ask you 'if you'd like to get out of there'.

You meet Logan's eyes when you tell him yes.

Telling yourself that it's just to forget him. Definitely not because you're desperate to see the look on his face. To hear that tone he takes when he's pissed off.

A way to ascertain if you've taken root in his mind, even for just a moment.

There's zero chance Logan heard you from across the room. But it doesn't stop him from moving. Pushing to his feet, cutting straight through the crowd to wrap a hand around your bicep the second you start peeling off with the stranger - heading towards the side door.

"No fucking chance." It's gritted out, as he yanks you to him. Your shoulder collides against his chest as he steps between you and the man.

A sloppy hand pushes against his arm. The man's eyes are hazy under the neon lights as he makes a grab for you.

"Come on, man. I saw her first."

Logan pivots you away with a snarl, "She ain't leaving with you, bub."

Another sloppy shove, glancing off the brown leather jacket.

"You're really starting to piss me off." Logan's tone drips with warning, with knowing, "Gonna regret starting something in a room full of people like this."

And it's now that he takes in how big Logan is. The flex of splayed-wide fingers, knuckles curling into a clenched fist. A look in his eye that says that punches won't be pulled - not tonight.

The stranger takes a step back. It's enough.

You're already getting hauled away before they can answer. Guided into one of the many VIP rooms. A snarled "get the fuck out of here" to the attendant, before Logan's crowding you against the bar - hands bracing on his hips.

Fuming, you push yourself up to sit on the top - an attempt to get closer to his height.

"What was that about?" Your chin lifts, as your arms cross.

His eyes flash - a curl of his lip, "Can't you make my job easy, kid?"

Kid. It always makes you bristle. So far from that, and it's the way he says it. That dripping edge, like he knows something you don't.

"Maybe he was a friend." You deadpan.

"Yeah. Real friendly," He scoffs, fingers rubbing the bridge of his nose, "You think your daddy is gonna like you going home with a piece of shit like that?"

That makes your teeth clench - a glare sent his way, "I don't think it's any of your business."

"It's literally my business, sweetheart." Logan huffs. His hands curl around the edge of the bar, braced on either side of your knees.

Your breathing hitches, for just a second. The soft name is ground out between his teeth, but it still shoots straight to your pussy.

You haven't been this close to him before. Enough to see the bleed of brown to green in his hazel eyes. The sharp mark between his brows that you want to press your thumb against.

The shorn-down hair at his chin, before it grows thick across his cheeks. Handsome in a way that makes you ache, your fingers curling into fists to keep from touching him.

There's been moments alone - car rides, lounging in the armchair in the corner of your room when he barks at you to hurry up.

But it hasn't been like this.

Maybe it's the opportunity. Maybe it's the amber glitter of tequila in your veins, but you let your palms press against the shining wood. Your knees inch a little further apart, the hem of your dress riding up your thighs.  

"That the only reason you whisked me away?” Your eyebrow lifts, "Kidnapping, if I recall, is one of the things you're supposed to be keeping me safe from."

"You are safe." He deflects, "'s not kidnapping when it's me.”

Those eyes are still on yours. Not dropping to where his hips nearly press against the edge of the bar top.

You break the eye contact first.

“Well, it’s fine.” You sniff - as if his actions had been your idea, “I didn’t want him anyways.”

Logan grunts. There’s the slightest brush - the flex of his thumb at your thigh, where your dress rides up. A long look before he’s pushing back to step away, but your fingers reach out, catching on his white shirt.

“Are you going to ask me what I do want?”

There’s the slightest twitch of his nose. Lips parting to show the peek of a tongue, caught between teeth. The briefest dip of his eyes. Down to the shadow between your breasts, pressed together as you lean forward to catch him.

“I know what you want, sweetheart.” He rasps, “Not gonna happen.”

The rejection stings, and you pout, “What isn’t?”

A sigh, and he’s stepping back into your space. Your hand flattens against his stomach, hard muscles beneath as his head tilts.

“You want a man to take you home. Treat you nice.” Logan’s eyes burn into you. Wide hands curving around your knees, thumbs pressing into flesh, “I’m not that guy.”

You wonder if he can hear your heartbeat. How it thunders to the beat of the music muted outside this room. Dropping down to pulse between your thighs.

Wondering if he’s thought about you, the way you have him. How he could both see and miss so much at once.

“You’re wrong,” Your head shakes, “I don’t want that.”

A breath, before you’re confessing, ”I want you.”

Logan's eyes darken. Fingers pinching against your skin, as he adjusts his grip.

“‘s a bad idea, sweetheart. Supposed to keep you out of trouble.”

Your hands skate lower, fingers tracing the edge of his belt buckle. His nostrils flare - a warning, though he does not move.

“Supposed to keep me out of trouble,” You echo, “But what if I want a little trouble in me?”

The smile you give him is sweet, a tilt of your head as he catches your hand. Thick fingers curl at your wrist, holding your hand in place. A thumb pressed up against your pulse.

“You wouldn’t know what to do with me.” He rasps, voice low.

You’re undeterred.

“Could get on my knees.” You coo, “You could show me. Would you like that?”

Logan’s jaw grits. His grip loosens just long enough to feel your wrist flex - before he guides your hands, pressing your palms flat against the polished wood.

“It’s not going like that,” He husks. The tone is the same as when he’s ordering you around, one that makes your back go straight, “Those are staying right there. Got that, honey?”

All you can do is nod, as his hands skate up your thighs. Fingers massaging into flesh, soft and smooth as he eases them wider apart. Fitting himself closer between them.

The way he looks at you now is the way he did before.

Focused, as your dress inches higher. The fabric pooling at your hips as they tilt toward him, the pretty lace between your thighs now on display.

“Look at you,” His tongue clucks. A finger tracing the elastic edge, as you clench in anticipation, “Need this, don’t you?”

Drifting across, a thumb pressing against the fabric. It sends a jolt through you, your fingers almost reaching for him before you remember.

“Good girl.” He muses, as your hands flatten again.

The slightest pressure as the pad of his thumb slips up. Nudging against your clothed clit, as you inhale a sharp breath.

Pressing, and circling. It’s agonizingly slow, his eyes flicking up to watch the way you bite back a whimper. Your hips flexing into his touch, aching for more.

It lifts, so he can see how the fabric has dampened. Clinging to your skin, his knuckle tracing your seam.

“Making a mess.”

You can only whine in reply. Afraid that he’ll stop if you make too much noise. If you move - he’s made it clear he’s in charge here, and for once you’re willing to follow.

The pad of his thumb pulling back, a faint shine in the neon-bathed room.

“That for me?”

Your head nods, “Logan, please-”

There’s a sharp flash of teeth. Fingers pressing low, fitting against you, “You want me here?”

“Yes.”

You need him. Need anything he’ll give you, the sharp pinch in your palms where your nails bite into flesh.

“Ask me.” He coos.

“Please put use your fingers,” It comes in a rush, “Want you in me-”

Logan smirks, as his fingers slip beneath the waistband. Air sucked through clenched teeth when he meets slick, soaked skin. A teasing swirl against your clit before he’s parting you.

The tip of his middle finger tracing your hole, before it dips inside. His hips flex against the wooden edge, when you clench around him immediately. Trying to draw him deeper, as he works himself further in.

His fingers are much thicker than yours. A second already tracing where he opens you up. Teasing the tip in as his hand flexes, the heel of his palm grinding against your clit.

Your head tips forward. Each breath growing shorter, as you’re stretched around him. That slight ache unfurling into pleasure. Panting, as the pump of his fingers grow louder - the muffled cadence of skin against skin each time his palm collides with your cunt.

The fabric strains against his hand, his knuckles pressed against the soaked fabric.

Something bright burns in your belly, as your knees press into his hips. It makes you break the rules - a hand grasping at his arm. Anchoring yourself with your grip.

“I wanna watch. Let me see you.”

He lets you. A tap against your hip so you can lift. Carefully pulling your underwear down, easing them over the heels of your boots.

The lace disappears into his jacket pocket. His palms against your inner thighs, spreading you open. A throaty groan when he sees you, one that he can't quite manage to bite back - the rough sound shooting straight through you.

You both watch, when his fingers fit inside you this time. Two sinking down to the knuckle, slick and shining.

Unable to bite back the moan this time, though he does not shush you. His eyes fixed on your face instead, watching how your brow pinches when his fingers crook deep inside you. Searching.

The way you go jolt and then go tense when he finds it, a soft cry loosening.

“You been fucked like this before?” Logan growls, his fingers dragging against that soft spot inside you with his emphasis.

Your head shakes, when he does it again. Eyes dropping to watch his how hand looks, how you wrap around his fingers. The slick shine as they pump a little faster.

His other hand taps against your thigh.

“Words, sweetheart.”

“No,” It comes out hushed. Needy. “Never.”

His lips part with his groan, baring his teeth. With the way he touches you - his thumb moving to rub circles against your clit - it’s not long before he has you close.

A swiftly building pressure in your belly. That space between you eases as your knees close around his hips. His head tilting until his nose ghosts against your cheek.

Breath hot against your neck, as he inhales you. The slightest scrape of teeth that makes you bear down on his fingers - so careful not to leave a mark behind.

“Logan,” You pant. “That feels, ah, I think I’m gonna come-”

He groans against your skin, keeping the same pace. Feeling how you forget yourself - grasping at him, arching into his touch. Your muscles going tight as your breath grows short - panting.

“Give it to me,” Logan growls, “Come on my fucking fingers, baby.”

It’s impossible not to listen. You come, with his thumb pressing against your clit. His fingers notched deep inside you, as he feels your pulse racing beneath his lips.

The moan that rips from you pitches up, and then goes silent.

It leaves you breathless. Deep waves throbbing inside you, as you dampen his palm. Washing over and pulling you under, as your vision darkens.

“That’s fucking it. Come on, honey.” He coos, “Just look at you, so fucking pretty.”

The pump of his fingers goes still, the tips still crooking, as the tight pulses wane. The air comes rushing back into your lungs as you come back to yourself, your hands fisted in his jacket.

His chest heaves. Eyes hungry, when he slips from you. Slick clinging to them, webbing between his fingers as he pulls them up to the light.

Before he’s focusing on you again, his other hand thumbing at your lip.

“Open.”

They part automatically. Closing around the fingers he feeds you. The salt of his skin pairing with the sweet tang of your release, too blissed out to do anything but suck them clean.

“Good girl.”

It’s soft, as his fingers press down. Spreading, until you’ve cleaned yourself from them. Only when they slip from you, does his head dip.

A soft sound as his mouth presses against yours. There’s the sweep of his tongue against your lip, needy and insistent. You part for him, swallowing the moan as he tastes you. Teeth and tongue - deepening the kiss as his hands grip at your waist.

Letting your hands grasp at his shoulders. Tug at his hair until you’re pulled flush against him, your tits crushed against his chest.

Hungry, threatening to devour you, until you mumble his name.

Bringing him back to himself. Sharing a breath, Logan’s forehead pressed to yours when he pulls back. Those spit-slick fingers dropping down.

Palming himself roughly, where his cock strains - thick and hard against his jeans. A bitten-back groan, the word “fuck” rumbling deep in his chest as his hips flex into his hand.

“You going to listen now? Get that out of your system?” It comes out ragged, and you’re nodding.

All your sharp edges smoothed down. Blissfully complacent, as his fingers get a better grip on your waist. Bringing you down to the floor with wobbly legs, his hand coming to grasp at your upper arm.

“Good.” He growls, “Come on.”

A sharp tug, and you almost trip over yourself to follow.

“I’m taking you home.”

ahh I had the idea for this and had to jot it down! and I do know he goes by james/jimmy in the 70s because it’s pre-weapon-x, but I'll be keeping it as logan for this. (And I am thinking this will be a two-shot - give her a chance to get what she wants 😏💖)

[garoujo]

✩ ˛˚ . GOJO SATORU — you know as soon as you get out of bed, satoru isn’t going to be far behind you, especially when you’re draped in his shirt.

ஜ ˖ ࣪࿐ྂ warnings! f!reader, insatiable satoru :3, mostly teasing, some morning scenes as he tries to drag you back to bed, you’re in his shirt, he lifts you up at the end. ♡ ˖ ࣪࿐ྂ note! i am so very obsessed + crazed, i can’t stop <3

it’s still early, barely light outside as you stand in the kitchen of your shared apartment. you’ve left your boyfriend gojo still in bed, you felt a little bad waking him up when he always looked so peaceful, probably tired out after the night he’d given you lastnight— the evidence of his efforts still burning on your skin where he’s left his mark.

but it had still been an effort to peel him off of you no matter how soundly he slept, having to pull yourself away from the warmth of his chest— his arms were like a puzzle with how tightly he wraps them around you, but you thought he’d appreciate waking up to some coffee and breakfast on his day off.

the air in the kitchen is still cold, something you’ve put down to the early morning— the roads outside are still quiet but there’s a slight breeze along your bare thighs when you move. the rest of your body is fine though, draped comfily in one of satoru’s ridiculously huge shirts, the perks of your boyfriend being over 6’3 ofcourse—plus he always payed such expensive amounts for his clothes, it was almost guaranteed they were gonna be comfy.

you giggle as you scoop a ridiculous amount of sugar into your boyfriends coffee cup, the ceramic identical to yours— his idea when he started coming over more often, but you still thought his sweet tooth was adorable.

“oh? good morning to you too, sweet thing.” your train of thought is interrupted by the smooth, still sleepy drawl as you shoot a quick glance over your shoulder to see gojo already approaching you. he couldn’t be apart from you too long afterall— it’s like his soul was tied with yours. he’s still shirtless, his hair is messy from sleep— snowy peaks framing his features while his sweatpants rest dangerously low on his hips.

“you’re awake early.” you sigh out, dreamily as you feel your boyfriends chest press against your back, his long arms circling their way around your waist from behind as he rests his head in the crook of your neck.

“mhm, how my supposed to sleep without you, hah? so cruel.” there’s a slight whine to gojo’s words, you can still hear the sleepiness in his tone but it makes you smile when it’s followed by a smeared kiss along your jawline. you roll your eyes before you lean into him, feeling his fingertips trace along the hem of your shirt, his shirt that’s hanging around your thighs before he speaks again.

“you teasin’ me?” his words are lower this time, a little more than a growl as he plays around with the fabric between his fingers— grumbling before he’s deliberately pressing his hips into you from behind. he’s close and warm, making sure you can feel the problem you left him with this morning when you got out of bed without him— straining against the fabric of his sweats.

“‘toru, it’s 8am. you’re insatiable.” you giggle out, a sweet little sound so early in the morning and it only seems to draw gojo in closer to you— smiling into his next kiss along your throat as he rolls his hips into you.

“oh, but you left me cold and alone, i think you gotta make that up to me, no?” he’s teasing you, trying to lure you back into where he wants you most— not that he wouldn’t have you anywhere, he’s already had his way with you around this whole apartment. but he wants nothing more than you between the sheets right now, wrapped up in him and the plush mattress beneath you both.

“i’m literally making you a coffee. you needed the rest.” you try to argue but you should know that gojo’s never one to back down. you feel his fingers trail slowly underneath the hem of his shirt, before he sighs with the first teasing swipe along the inside of your bare thigh, so dangerously close to your folds that you shudder. no panties either? you really were teasing him.

“hah? but i feel better than ever.” he tries to argue, oh so convincingly before he’s turning you to face him— peppering sweet, ticklish smooches along your features until you’re arms are wrapping around his shoulders and your eyes are finally on him.

“oh, i’m sure~” you grin, his crystalline gaze is sleepy as you brush your fingers through his bed head— scratching at his scalp before he’s sending you a lopsided grin, followed by a quick peck against your lips.

“got no choice. you need a demostration? let’s go, sweet thing. only one way to show you.” is all you hear from gojo before he’s suddenly got you thrown over his shoulder, and you truly forget how strong he really is until he’s handling you with such ease— holding you with one arm like you’re as light as a feather.

“satoru! what about breakfast?” not that you’re putting up much of a fight, you can basically feel the smug look that’s on his face already as he turns to drag you back to bed. you grumble, defeated but it quickly turns to a shriek when you feel your boyfriends free hand come down sharply on your ass as he chuckles.

“hm? don’t mind. i’m hungry f’ somethin’ else right now, baby.”

© 2023 GAROUJO. please do not copy any of my layouts or writing and translate or repost onto any other sites.

[masterhallmark]

Rant incoming

I feel like the problem with a lot of Disney's live action remakes (and arguably Wish) is they're trying to appeal to a crowd that no longer exists, namely the people who used to claim that the Disney Princesses were sexist.

All the interviews tend to include, "Well she's not chasing a MAN anymore" which...almost no one sees the princesses like that, anymore. Virtually NO ONE still believes the princesses are man-chasing sexist caricatures of women.

Cinderella is now hailed as an abuse victim who stayed strong long enough to get help to get out of her situation. Anyone who says she should have saved herself is basically regarded as a victim blamer. And it's very clear in the film she wasn't looking to marry the prince, she just wanted a night off. She was the only one who wasn't in line to meet him. She didn't find out she met the prince until he went looking for her!

Snow White is now hailed for her negotiation skills, ability to calm down after extreme stress (she had a moment of panic and had to cry for a bit, but who wouldn't after finding out The Queen hired someone to kill you?), and ability to take charge of a house of adult men. And again, she was an abuse victim, this time trying to escape ASSASSINATION ATTEMPTS. While she dreamed of her prince, it was secondary to her main goal of SURVIVAL. There are also entire video essays about how Snow White gave hope to people during The Great Depression.

Everyone acknowledges that Ariel wanted to be human BEFORE meeting Eric. We all know she was a nerd hyperfixating on humans, and also standing up to her prejudiced father.

We understand Sleeping Beauty wasn't the main character, the Three Good Fairies were, AND PHILLIP WOULD NEVER HAVE BEATEN MALEFICENT WITHOUT THEM! He literally depended on them! WOMEN SAVED THE DAY! But even then, is it really such a sin for a girl to fantasize about romance and fall for someone with corny pickup lines?

We all understand Jasmine just wanted someone to treat her LIKE A PERSON. She rejected every Prince before Aladdin because they treated her like a prize. So why did they need her to want to be Sultan? How did that make her more feminist when she already wanted to be treated like an equal and have a say in her future? Is it only empowering if you want a career in politics?

We admire that Belle, despite living in a judgemental village, was kind to everyone (even though she found the village life dull), and her story teaches girls that the guy everyone else loves isn't always a good guy. What's sexist about teaching girls about red flags? And she didn't start being nice to The Beast until he started treating her with respect and kindness.

Do I really NEED to defend Mulan or Tiana? I think they speak for themselves.

Rapunzel was yet another abuse victim who just needed a little help to get out of her bad situation. In this case, she also needed to learn that she was an abuse victim, and that what Mother Gothel did WASN'T normal, much like many victims of gaslighting.

And don't get me started on the non-princess animals.

Perdita had a healthy relationship with Pongo to the point she was open to express her pregnancy fears to him, and was ready to TEAR APART Cruella's goons for daring to touch her puppies as well as adopting the other puppies. Like, she was so ferocious the goons mistook her for a hyena! She's basically that "I AM THAT GIRL'S MOTHER!" scene from SpyXFamily if Yor were a dog. She and her husband were a TEAM.....but they made a Cruella live action to turn her into a girlboss?! The literal animal abuser!? THAT'S the woman you wanted to put on a pedestal when Perdita was RIGHT THERE!?

Duchess kept her kittens calm after they had been catnapped and was classy as heck. Nice to everyone regardless of social class during a time period where that was uncommon.

Lady stood up to Tramp when she believed he had abandoned her and didn't really care about her. She found out he was a heartbreaker and was like, "Nuh uh. No. You are not doing that to me! You put me through enough."

Miss Bianca from The Rescuers was IN CHARGE the whole movie, and was willing to risk life and limb to save an innocent child. THAT TINY MOUSE TOOK ON ALLIGATORS! And she picked Bernard to accompany her because he was the only one who wasn't ogling her. And then in the sequel SHE DID IT ALL AGAIN! I wish I were as brave as her.

Like, the public haven't accused these ladies of being sexist caricatures since 2014 (Actresses and actors don't count, they're out of touch like the rest of Hollywood) yet Disney is operating under the assumption that the public still thinks that way, hence all the "sHe'S nOt AfTeR a MaN iN ThIs VeRsIOn" talk.

The live action remakes are trying to attract an audience that doesn't really exist much, anymore, and back when it did exist, was comprised mainly of people who didn't actually watch the films. The Disney princesses are no longer seen as sexist, and feminine qualities are no longer seen as weak or undesirable.

[ccsainzleclerc5516]

His Pumpkin

Pairing: Lando Norris x reader

Warnings: none, pure fluff, dad Lando

“Lan..” You sighed exhausted opening the door of Lando’s gaming room. On your hip, you hold your little girl Isla, who cries inconsolably and keeps rubbing her tired eyes with her little hands.

“Hold on, Max” Lando says into the microphone, removing the headphones from his ears and turning his gaze from the monitor to you and Isla. “Hey, baby. What’s wrong?” He asks getting up from his chair and walking up to the two of you.

“It's long past her bedtime and she just doesn't wanna fall asleep.” You say, already too tired and too pregnant to have any strength to spend another hour putting your three-year-old to sleep. “She is so tired she can barely keep her eyes open. I don’t know what to do anymore. Can you please take her over?”

“Of course, come here” Lando takes Isla in his arms giving her a kiss on her cheek to calm her down. “Are you okay?” He asks you.

“Yeah, I’m just exhausted. I’ll finish the laundry and then I’m going to bed.”

“Okay, baby. I’ll be with you when she’s asleep.”

You leave the room and Lando walks back to his gaming chair with Isla in his arms.

“What’s wrong, pumpkin? Why are you crying and not sleeping? Hm?” He asks Isla sitting down with her and removing her curly hair out of her face.

“I don’t wanna go to sleep, daddy” She sobs.

“But it’s almost 11 p.m., baby. It’s way too late. You wanna lie here on daddy’s chest until I finish something with uncle Max?”

“Okay”

Lando being Isla’s favorite place to sleep on, immediately gets her to agree with his suggestion. She nodds and takes her position laying her little head into the crook of his neck while the rest of her body clung to Lando’s chest.

“Okay, pumpkin.” He places another kiss on her cheek and starts rubbing her back with his hand while with the other he puts his headphones back on. He wasn’t actually gaming, he was doing something with Max for the new quadrant video so he wanted to get that done as soon as possible.

It took them another 45 minutes to finish what they were working on and when Lando looked down to his daughter he smiled when he saw her fast asleep with parted lips. Poor thing was so tired that as soon as her head hit Lando’s chest, she drifted off to sleep.

However, when Lando got up from the chair with her and started to carry her to her room she startled and woke up again. Realizing he was putting her down in her own bed, she just started crying again.

“Shh, it’s okay, it’s okay” Lando cooed her as she clung onto his arm.

“With you and mommy” She cried not wanting to sleep alone in her bed.

“Pumpkin, you know you can’t sleep with us while mommy has a baby brother in her belly” He explained to her God knows how many times already.

Considering that Isla is very restless when she sleeps and keeps tossing and turning throughout the night, Lando was more worried than you that she would kick you in the stomach, so he himself made the rule that she cannot sleep with you until you give birth.

“Daddy will lie in bed with you here, okay?”

He had planned to wait until she fell asleep again and slowly creep out of her bed and get back to you, but that went out the window when Lando doze off and ended up sleeping with Isla in bed.

When you woke up in the morning and realized that Lando wasn't next to you, you immediately knew what was going on because this wasn't the first time he fell asleep with Isla while trying to put her to sleep.

You slowly and quietly opened the door to her room and put your hand over your mouth, holding back from bursting out laughing when you saw the scene in front of you.

Lando was lying on his back with his head between lots of stuffed toys, two of them even falling over his forehead while Isla was sleeping peacefully with her back turned to Lando.

“Baby” You laughed softly slowly shaking his arm.

“Hm?” He raised his head looking around through one eye completely out of it wiping the drool from the corner of his mouth.

“There’s a slight possibilty those stuffed toys might suffocate you” You chuckled quietly. “Wanna go to our bed?”

“Yeah, let’s go” He mumbled tiredly getting out of bed.

Once you got to your room he took off the clothes he fell asleep in the night before and got back into bed with you. He kissed you a few times before lowering his head to the level of your round pregnant belly and left a couple of kisses there too.

“Thank you for last night, I was really tired. I love you.” You said running your fingers through Lando’s curls same as Isla’s.

“No need to thank me, baby. Just please remind me that we don't buy any more stuffed toys for pumpkin. I'm kinda running out of space in her bed.”

“Okay, baby. I will, don’t worry.” You laughed as he nuzzled his head into your neck and closed his eyes to get some rest before pumpkin is all ready and awake to start her day again.

[waitimcomingtoo]

Jealousy, Jealousy

Pairing: Peeta Mellark x Reader

Synopsis: Peeta helps Johanna unzip her dress in the elevator and it makes you jealous

Masterlist

“Can I have a hand?” Johanna asked as she turned her back to Peeta. Peeta looked at you and Haymitch for a split second before shrugging and taking ahold of her zipper.

“Oh. Sure.” He said as he pulled the zipper down her back. Your head slowly turned to Peter and you stared at him with a slack jaw. Peeta looked at you and his smile immediately dropped. He adverted his eyes as long as he could until they found their way back to the scene in front of him. Johanna was looking between you and Peeta with a smirk when she turned around to pull her sleeves off her arms. Peeta and Haymitch couldn’t help but watch her as she undressed and dropped her clothes onto the elevator floor. It appeared that you were the only one able to keep your eyes on the ceiling as Johanna stripped out of her last piece of clothing.

“Thanks. Let’s do it again sometime.” She said as the elevator doors opened. She walked into the hallway fully naked and left a silence when she left. Peeta and Haymitch chuckled and exchanged looks as the elevator went up another door. Peeta then made eye contact with you and gulped when he saw the daggers in your eyes. You could not believe he had just looked at her the way he did. Seeing him unzip her dress and watch her made your blood boil in your skin in a way it never had before. You were so consumed with your jealousy that you didn’t hear Peeta try to change the subject and only knew she spoke when you saw his lips move.

“What?” You asked him.

“I asked what outfit you liked the best.” Peeta repeated. “I thought District 5’s was kinda cool. But it didn’t look very comfortable.”

“I don’t know. And I don’t care. I wasn’t looking at the other tributes.” You said and eyed him up and down as the elevator doors opened on your floor.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Peeta’s face scrunched in confusion as he followed you out of the elevator.

“Nothing. I’m going to sleep.” You announced and headed straight for your room.

“You’re sleeping already? Aren’t you gonna eat?” Peeta asked with concern.

“I’m not hungry.” You said without looking back.

“I can meet you on the roof in a little bit if you want to hang out.” He offered.

“Not tonight.” You replied and disappeared into your bedroom. Peeta frowned and felt disappointment sink in over not getting the night with you that he thought he’d be getting.

“Uh oh.” Haymitch chuckled as he poured himself a drink.

“What was that?” Peeta asked and gestured to where you had just been.

“That, my friend, was you getting in trouble with your lady.”

“What?” Peeta blushed at what Haymitch called you. “She’s not even my lady.”

“But she wants to be.” Haymitch said pointedly and took a long sip.

“Y/n? There’s no way. She knows I like her and she made it very clear that she just wants to be friends.” Peeta insisted.

“Peeta, I don’t really know how they do things in 12 nowadays, so let me spell things out for you. That girl wants you but she’s way too stubborn to admit it to you or even herself. She doesn’t want to tell you how she feels because she wants you to just know. And she definitely didn’t want to see you undressing another girl right in front of her.”

“I wasn’t undressing her. I just helped her unzip her…” Peeta trailed off when he saw Haymitch raise his eyebrows in amusement. He realized how bad the moment in the elevator must’ve looked to you and began to panic.

“Oh no.” Peeta gulped. “Is she really mad at me?”

“Definitely.”

“What do I do?” He whined.

“Talk to her. And prepare to get hit a couple times.” Haymitch chuckled and patted Peeta’s shoulder as he passed him. Peeta thought about it for a moment and then went up to your room to do what Haymitch said and talk to you. He knocked on your door and you opened it pretty quickly as if you were expecting him. You had ditched your parade outfit and were now in some silky yellow pajamas.

“Hey.” Peeta smiled at you.

“What do you want?” You replied, making his smile drop.

“Just to talk. And I wanted to see you.”

“I’m really tired. I’m not in the mood to talk tonight.”

“Oh, okay. We don’t have to talk if you don’t want. I’m tired too. We can just sleep.” Peeta offered. You usually slept in the same bed to keep the nightmares away but there was no way you were letting him in your bed after what happened in the elevator.

“I’m gonna sleep alone tonight.” You told him with a tight smile.

“Oh. Okay.” Peeta said again and felt his disappointment settle in a pit in his stomach. Your cold expression suddenly melted to one of insecurity and you looked down the hallway as if you were expecting someone else to be there.

“Are you?” You asked quietly.

“Huh? Who else would I be sleeping with?” Peeta genuinely wondered, not realizing you were asking about Johanna.

“I don’t know.” You said quickly. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight. See you-“ Peeta was cut off by you closing the door in his face. He sighed and put his hand on your door before walking away.

“Tomorrow.” He mumbled.

When tomorrow came, he woke up in his lonely bed and went straight to your room. Your door was open and you weren’t inside so he assumed you already went downstairs. You weren’t there when he got to the table and let out another sigh. You were clearly avoiding him and he was not handling it very well. Peeta decided not to let it get to him and busied himself by making you a plate of all your favorite breakfast food. Haymitch watched Peeta scrambling to get back in your good graces and laughed to himself. You came down just as Peeta was finishing your plate and eyed him curiously.

“Good morning.” He greeted with you a smile.

“Morning.” You replied without looking at him.

“I made you a plate.” He said and put the plate in front of you. You stared at the plate for a minute and almost gave it and apologized for your cold behavior until you remembered the way he looked at Johanna last night. That was enough to make you lose your appetite so you pushed the plate away.

“I’m not really hungry.”

“You’re not? But you didn’t eat last night.” Peeta said worriedly as he sat beside you.

“Yes she did. For a hunter, you’re not very quiet. I could hear you rummaging for food all the way from my room.” Haymitch said to you.

“You came down to eat?” Peeta asked. “You should’ve gotten me. I would’ve kept you company.”

“Maybe I didn’t want your company.” You shrugged, making Peeta frown.

“Oh. Ice cold, sweetheart.” Haymitch chuckled. “You better watch your back in the games, Peeta. This one has death in her eyes.”

“You’re still mad at me?” Peeta whispered to you.

“Who said I’m mad at you?” You said without looking at him.

“I know you are. We usually talk on the rooftop and then sleep in the same bed. And then come down to eat breakfast together. You didn’t let me do any of those things.”

“Maybe I just need some space. We spend every hour together every single day. Excuse me for wanting some privacy for a little while.”

“We should be spending every hour together before we don’t get the chance. How long are you gonna be mad at me?”

“I already told you, I’m not mad.” You whispered harshly.

“Fine. You’re not mad. But when can we be friends again?” Peeta asked and tugged on your sleeve.

“Peeta.” You said warningly and pushed his hand away.

“Come on. I miss you.” He whined and tugged on your sleeve.

“I’m right here.” You scoffed but started to feel guilty for your behavior.

“No you’re not.” He pouted. “You’re far away.”

“Stop whining so much. You sound like my cat. And I hate that cat.”

“So you hate me now? All because I un-“

“Don’t.” You cut him off and got up from the table. You passed Effie in the hallway as you went back to your room.

“What’s going on? Y/n just told me she wants to train alone today.” Effie said as he joined the boys at the table.

“She’s mad at loverboy.” Haymitch said and pointed to Peeta.

“What did you do?” Effie asked him.

“Nothing. I didn’t do anything.”

“He unzipped Johanna Masons dress in the elevator.” Haymitch tattled.

“What? Are you insane?” Effie gasped. “You can’t do something like that in front of your lady.”

“Why does everyone keep calling her my lady?” Peeta asked. “She doesn’t even like me.”

“Of course she likes you. That’s why she’s so upset. She’s jealous.” Effie laughed like it was obvious.

“Jealous? Of me and Johanna? I don’t think I even said a word to her. I just pulled the zipper.”

“It’s not about Johanna, silly. It’s about you giving attention to another girl. That’s why she’s jealous. She wants to be the one you’re unzipping.” Effie explained, making Peeta choke on the water he had just sipped. He wiped his mouth once he stopped choking and sighed.

“I need to fix this.”

“Yeah. You do. Before she makes you her first target.” Haymitch told him.

“She wouldn’t do that. Oh my God. Wait. Would she?” Peeta worried.

“She might.” Effie shrugged and Haymitch nodded in agreement.

“Well what do I do? She won’t talk to me.”

“So don’t give her a choice. Go in there and show her that she’s your only lady.” Haymitch instructed.

“What if she tells me to go away?” Peeta asked.

“Stay.” Effie answered. Peeta nodded his head and got out of his seat to go talk to you. He knocked on your door but this time, you didn’t answer. Peeta took a deep breath before opening the door and going in. You were on your bed with your knees drawn up to your chest. You gasped when he came in and threw a pillow at his head.

“What are you doing in here? Get out.”

“No. We’re talking.” Peeta said and sat on the edge of your bed.

“Well I don’t want to talk to you.”

“Too bad. Because I want to talk to you. Please? I can’t take it that you’re mad at me. I don’t want to go in the arena without hearing your voice. Can’t we just talk?” Peeta begged.

“Fine. What do you want to say?” You asked him.

“That you’re a big baby.” Peeta replied.

“Excuse me?” Your eyes widened when you didn’t get the apology you were expecting.

“You are.” He insisted. “You don’t get to be mad at me for unzipping Johanna’s dress when I didn’t even know what was happening.”

“What?” You laughed nervously. “I’m not mad at you for unzipping her dress. Why would I care about that?”

“I don’t know why you care. But I know that you’re jealous.”

“Jealous? Oh, please.” You scoffed and got off the bed to get away from Peeta.

“It’s okay to admit it.” Peeta said calmly. “I admit that I was jealous when I saw you talking to Finnick. And his giant muscles that are always out.”

“They are, aren’t they?” You smiled coyly.

“Hey.” Peeta said defensively.

“You’re the one who’s jealous. Not me.” You said and pointed to him.

“Then how come you’ve been mad at me ever since I unzipped her dress?” Peeta asked and walked over to you.

“It’s not about the dress!” You exclaimed.

“Then what is this about?” He asked. You scoffed again and folded your arms to close yourself off. Peeta wasn’t about to give up that easy and put his hands on your shoulders.

“Please tell me. I miss my friend.” He said quietly. You sighed and looked into his big sad eyes.

“I don’t care that you unzipped her dress.” You admitted. “You were just doing what she asked. I care that you were looking at her when she took her clothes off.”

“In my defense, I’ve never seen boobs before.” Peeta stated, making you laugh for second.

“Me either.”

“Not…not your own?” Peeta whispered in disbelief.

“Yes my own. Never another girls.” You explained and smacked his arm.

“Oh. I was gonna say. I know we don’t have a lot of mirrors in 12 but I think they’d be kinda hard to avoid- “

“I don’t want you looking at Johanna, okay?” You cut him off. “Or any other girls. I hated it. It made my blood feel hot and my stomach dropped to the floor. And then I couldn’t sleep because I kept replaying it in my head. What is that?”

“Thats jealousy.” Peeta explained with a pleased smile now that he knew Effie was right.

“Oh. Well I don’t want to feel it ever again. I didn’t like it.”

“Well I didn’t like when you didn’t talk to me.” Peeta said quietly.

“I’m sorry. I feel like my life is completely out of my hands lately. But you and I are the one thing I have a say in. So when it felt like our relationship was threatened, I tried to gain control by shutting you out.”

“It’s okay. I probably would’ve curled into a ball and cried right in front of you if I saw you unzip some guys pants.” He admitted, making you laugh again. You chuckled and pulled him into a hug to apologize for being so cold towards him. When you pulled out of the hug, you kept your arms around his neck and looked into his eyes.

“So seeing me with Finnick really made you jealous?” You asked with a smirk.

“Yeah. I was questioning our alliance the second I heard him make you laugh.” Peeta replied, making you laugh.

“Yeah. I know the feeling.”

“Why do you think we got so jealous seeing each other around other people?” Peeta wondered. You looked down at the floor and sighed.

“I think maybe we underestimated our feelings for each other.” You admitted.

“We?” Peeta raised an eyebrow.

“Fine. I underestimated my feelings. When I saw you looking at another girl, I realized the only one I want you looking at is me.”

“As if theres anything in this world that could make me take my eyes off you.” Peeta said softly.

“Except for Johanna’s boobs.” You mumbled under your breath.

“You’re the only one I’m looking at right now.” He assured you. You smiled for a second, then frowned.

“But you’re not thinking about them, right?” You asked him.

“I’m about to if you don’t stop bringing them up.” He said out of the corner of his mouth.

“Maybe I can take your mind off it?” You asked with a shrug.

“How?” Peeta barely got the word out before you were kissing him. He wrapped his arms around you to deepen the kiss as your hands found their way to his hair. There were no cameras and no witnesses because it was just yours.

“So we’re friends again?” Peeta asked once you pulled away.

“I don’t know. I don’t get jealous like over just my friends.” You said coyly. Peeta picked up on what you were saying and felt his face heat up. He pressed his forehead against yours and looked into your eyes.

“Good.” He said. “Because I never wanted to be just friends with you.”