#IT'S SO AMAZING WOW WHAT THE FUCK THE EMOTION THE DESPERATION THE EVERYTHING

[kiroshang]

ME READING THIS RN OH MY GOD /pos

ilysm glossy u fr never EVER MISS!!!!

(couldn't fit this in the tags but like)

AHHH the fucking limb tho... THE FUCKING LIMB!!! I KEPT ROLLING MY SHOULDER WHEN IT GOT TO HE PART ABT THE LIMB HELP,, it's so fuckin scary nd it's just like wow what the actual fuck 😨

READY TO COMPLY : chapter 5 ; изоляция

изоляция or isolation, defined as;

the process or fact of isolating or being isolated.

tags/warnings: pov change from 141 to reader, phantom limb/pain, talk of human waste (sorry), uncleanliness, torture, hallucinations, fake death.

other chapters!

playlist: i was all over her - salvia palth, genesis - grimes.

word count: 2,876

🏷️: @viylikescats @whore4dilfs @warenai @briacreations96 @fullmoon-94 @breadboyye @kiroshang @zvdvdlvr @lunitalloronaa @itzzjxlyn @lonely-ofc @m0rganit3 @badbishsblog @wolfyland07 @angelsdemonsmonsters @unkn0wnd3ad @itstokyo-cos @c1rice @venusianlustt @bugonawall @wakusbonkus @shadowycreatormentality @blackrose4242 @blackgaladriel @lilpothoscuttings @thvxr @tapioca-marzipan @undercover-smutlover @nickangel13 @luvmeijii @atjamesbbarnes @h-leigh @writingmybeloved @chloeforde @divine--serenity @hunterbunter3000

(if ur name is striked out, it means tumblr wouldn’t let me tag, sorry)

When you assumed that the 141 wouldn’t send out a search and rescue team for you, you were right.

When you assumed that by the time the 141 discovered you were missing, that it would be too late, you were right.

When you assumed that they would be too preoccupied with the next mission to look for you, you were right.

That much was proved to be true when Shepherd uttered the words, “You know I can’t let you do that, John.” The General couldn’t send out his best soldiers to go searching for some medic that was probably already long dead by now. The General wouldn’t.

John chuckled without humor, shaking his head in disbelief.

“So what then, General? Because they were the only surgeon I trusted with my team!” He shouted, nostrils flaring.

Shepherd chose his next words carefully, still paranoid after being ambushed in that conference room and almost assaulted by the Lieutenant.

“So, we’ll hope for the best and prepare for the worst. We will have a list of potential.. replacements as soon as possible.”

John’s throat tightened and tears pricked his eyes but he didn’t let them fall. No, not in front of the emotionless, insensitive General, who John knew never liked you that much anyway.

So the Captain pressed his lips together and nodded to himself, before walking out of the conference room. He walked the halls of his base with a clenched jaw and a feeling of barbed wire wrapped around his throat.

Soon, you were also right about being replaced.

Corporate quickly pulled your name from any employee record or planners. Your name was pulled from payroll and all of your previous medical cases were sealed forever. Any of your current patients were transferred to a different surgeon, along with the medical plan you had created. Your room was even cleared of all of your belongings and put into a box - down to every last post-it note, picture frame and candle. The gold plaque on your door that had your name printed on it was even scraped from the wood, leaving it blank for someone else’s name.

Worst of all, was when the interviews began. Way too soon in the Task Force’s opinion. Laswell, Price and Shepherd had formed a panel including themselves and your previous medical assistants in order to find the best replacement. Price tried to ignore the sullen looks on your assistants’ faces when they were trying to find a new surgeon. You were their friend and mentor, after all.

Once they had finally found someone suitable for the job, the new surgeon moved into your medbay the medbay. They put their grubby little hands on it. They rearranged all of the medical supplies into a different order, one that made no sense compared to the way you organized things. Even the way they triaged patients irked the Task Force, it was all way too busy and chaotic instead of the coordinated way you triaged.

When it came to being treated by your replacement, 141’s hackles rose. They would glare daggers at the surgeon, tempted to refuse treatment from anyone other than you. No one could administer injections like you could. No one could insert an IV like you, they would always end up losing a vein or leaving the patients arm with bruises. Your replacement took too long to come up with diagnoses, leaving the team out of commission for longer than necessary.

At every single turn, the entire Task Force knew that if you were here, you would’ve put that “replacement” to absolute shame.

But when you assumed that the team would be better off with you gone? You couldn’t have been more wrong.

The atmosphere at the base shifted immediately after you were announced missing in action, and presumably killed in action.

It was an unspoken grief that neither Ghost or Soap could swallow, no matter how hard they tried. Where the warmth usually resided in their chest, a piercing ache replaced it, leaving a hole where you should be. The hole in their chest was always there, digging deeper and deeper with each passing minute without you.

Their throats went raw and tight every time they found themselves looking for you, on pure instinct. They would search for you wearing your scrubs in the medbay, only to find your replacement standing in your place. They would listen for the pitter-patter of your feet as they worked out in the gym, so accustomed to you talking to them while they lifted weights. They would listen and listen, expecting you to pop up next to them — only for you to never appear. They would find themselves walking by your door and slowing to a stop. They would raise a fist to knock on your door, only to stop an inch from the door when they remembered that you weren’t there.

Everywhere they looked, they were reminded of you. They saw pieces of you everywhere on base, pieces you left behind.

For days or weeks on end, you were locked in that room as you slept on that uncomfortable cot.

Days passed, you weren’t sure how many, but you knew they were passing nonetheless. It could’ve been two days, five days, or even weeks. You had no idea.

You were kept in that room with no food or water. Your stomach was constantly growling and aching for even a sleeve of crackers. Your throat was dry and sore, even swallowing hurt because of how thirsty you were.

The effects of dehydration had already begun taking it’s toll on you. Your head was constantly pounding and you found yourself pressing against your eye socket to try and relieve the migraine. You had already emptied your stomach multiple times throughout your imprisonment because of the nausea, the smell wafting from the buckets only making it worse. You were only thankful that you hadn’t started experiencing hallucinations.

You had no way of knowing how much time had passed because there were no clocks or windows. There was no sunlight to illuminate the room or tell you when the sun was rising or setting. There was no dusk or dawn. Just a cold, grey concrete room.

The lighting panels on the ceiling was the only thing providing light to the dreary room. The light never turned off, not even for an hour. You were thoroughly convinced that your captors knew you might use the light schedule to measure time, so they just kept the lights on. Every minute of every day. Burning your corneas and making it impossible to get any rest.

The room was filled with a disgusting, nauseating odor that stemmed from two buckets in the corner of the room. You were forced to relieve yourself in those buckets, the smell of your waste making you gag with almost every breath.

The only way you could ever sleep during that time was to pull your shirt over your head. At least then you wouldn’t have to see that bright light or smell that putrid odor.

In all that time you were kept there, you sat in the same pair of cargo pants and muscle shirt that you woke up in, never granted a shower much less freedom from this room. For days or even weeks, you were stewing in your own dirt and sweat. Your body reeked and your greasy hair was tangled up in a rats nest in the back.

You could only imagine what you looked like.

You had no socks or shoes, so your feet were adorned in scrapes and bruises from being dragged around weeks prior. From not having any access to a bath, much less a moisturizer, your feet were becoming dry and cracked. There were also scabs decorating the heels of your feet due to pieces of glass and debris scattered on the floor of the room. You winced and limped with any step you took on your bloody, raw feet.

Your body was painted in splotches of black and blue, with hints of yellow around each bruise as they tried to heal. Purple handprints wrapped around your right wrist and elbow, serving as a reminder of when those soldiers tore you from that redhead and dragged you into that room. You knew that if your left arm was still there, your real left arm, you would see the same handprints mirrored there.

Your stab wound was messily stitched shut and bandaged over, still leaving you with sharp pains if you twisted or turned a certain way. Your neck was sore and bloody due to all of the needle pricks from off market drugs, steroids and sedatives.

Throbbing, stabbing pain radiated from your left arm shoulder all the way throughout your body. It was pain you couldn’t place — pain that you knew didn’t truly come from your shoulder, but that was the last part of your arm that remained. Logically, that was the only place it should be coming from.

It wasn’t just surface level pain either. It dove deep into your nerves that ran all through your body, shocking each one with a jolt of electricity that made you wince and whimper in pain.

It consumed every cell in your body. Lighting every blood vessel on fire, flaying your muscles alive. It made the nerves in your back and arms tense up, rendering you immobile until your body finally relaxed.

Sooner or later though, delirium would begin setting in. Forcing you to crumble from the pain and surrender to exhaustion, and letting your eyelids flutter closed.

Even in your unconscious state, you were miserable. Your heartbeat pounded in your already aching head. Your throat scratched with every inhale and exhale. The skin that met metal on your left shoulder was still searing as if you were being branded like cattle.

In some ways you were.

With every labored wheeze, your chest screamed in white hot pain that was reminiscent of the knife piercing your abdomen. The stitches threatened to rip open with any sharp intake of breath or involuntary muscle twitch. Every single scrape, bruise and gash that littered your body still screamed in pain while you slept. Your face was still screwed up in agony, brows furrowed and eyes clenched shut.

Your dreams were filled with light and warmth, blossoming safety and protection. You dreamed of your safe haven that lied solely in Soap and Ghost. Your dreams were filled with Soap’s warmth. His tan skin and cerulean eyes, crinkling with his booming laughter at some stupid joke you told him. His big arms that were corded with muscle, wrapping around you in a comforting embrace. His husky, accented voice that sounded like pure honey as he complimented you. Your dreams were filled with Ghost’s instinctual protection. Flashes of him braking hard in the Hum-vee, making sure to lash out a tattooed arm in front of your stomach to shield you. Flashes of him gently taking your chin in his hand and tilting your face after an explosive goes off, ensuring that your ears weren’t bleeding and no debris had hit your face. Flashes of him sweeping you off your feet and carrying you in his arms the second he sees you sporting limp on a mission.

In the dream, you heard their voices as clear as day. You welcomed it, even in the dream, because you feared that would be the last time you ever heard their voices.

“Bonnie,” Soap’s accented voice echoed in your head, a bit cloudy from being submerged in the rest of the dream.

“Lovie,” Ghosts’ usually commanding voice had softened remarkably, as if he wanted to comfort you and drag you further into slumber.

Their voices continued overlapping in your dream, acting as a tether to your unconscious state. You hung onto every last word, every last syllable, desperate to be out of this hell hole. Even if dreaming would be your only escape, you would gladly take it.

In your dream, they would cup your cheek and wipe away the fat tears that fall down your face. They would pull you into their chests and let you bury your face in their vests, soaking the fabric with your tears and snot.

“We got you,” they would murmur in your dream, pressing kisses to the crown of your head.

They kept repeating that phrase, turning into a mantra of sorts, becoming louder with each repetition.

They became so loud in fact, that it pulled you from your state of consciousness and made you gasp awake.

“We got you, Y/N!” They shouted as you took in your surroundings.

What you saw made tears pool in your eyes. Price, Gaz, Soap and Ghost. They were all storming into your room, dressed in their usual combat gear and sporting their preferred assault rifles. Racing over to your cot with concern etched onto their faces as they took in your injured state, tear stained face and your new arm.

Before they could make even two steps toward you, gun shots rang out from Russian soldiers.

“No!” You wailed, vision blurring and lips trembling.

Blood spattered on the walls and onto the floor as the bullets tore apart the bodies of the four men in your life. Their corpses bodies fell limp on the dirty floor, blood pooling around them. Their guts and intestines were spilling out of their stomach. You could see their muscle and fat, covered in a sheen of crimson.

You could only sob as you watched the life drain from the four men’s eyes.

Price was still just looking at you, his lips freezing in a sad smile as his eyes glazed over. His hat was knocked off during the shooting, revealing his hair bloodied and matted. Brain matter scattered the surrounding area.

Gaz was staring up at the ceiling, eyes looking but not actually seeing. In addition to taking multiple rounds in his chest, his carotid artery was shot, leaving him to quickly bleed to death.

You screamed into your hands when it came to your last two boys, to the loves of your life.

Soap was smiling, somehow. Even as his mohawk was soaked in blood and brain matter. Even as his face was splattered in his own guts, and blood was leaking from his mouth. He was still fucking smiling at you, his pearly whites now tainted by the crimson liquid. His eyes drove a knife through your heart and twisted. His once vibrant cerulean eyes were now empty and drained of any life. There was no emotion, no warmth.

Looking at Ghost is what took that same knife that was buried in your heart, and thrusted it back in. Over and over and over. His mask had fallen off from the hitting the ground so hard. His icy blue eyes that once entranced you, electrified you, were now rolled back into his skull. His face was revealed for anyone to see. Only it was covered in blood, every single inch of it. His bleach blond hair was drenched in crimson, the strands sticking to his forehead. His eyelashes that used to be so white and pretty were now covered in the same liquid as it dripped down his face. His mouth was open in a silent scream, blood trickling out of his mouth. His neck was torn apart, allowing you to see every muscle and tendon and even some bone.

Both Soap and Ghost’s hands were outstretched, reaching towards you. Even when they were dead. Murdered. Slaughtered. They were still reaching out for you.

No pain in the world could compare to this. You clutched your stomach and screamed, trying to get rid of the pain in your heart but you couldn’t. You just kept wailing and gasping for air.

They were all dead.

Dead because of you.

No matter where you looked, there was blood. On the walls, on the floor, on the cot. Some had even splattered onto you.

Fitting, considering their blood was on your hands. Literally and figuratively.

You tried to close your eyes but all you saw was dead eyes and gaping holes, skin torn apart and muscle shredded to pieces. You tried to convince yourself that it was all just a dream, conjured up by your state of delirium. But every time you peeked your eyes open, your worst fears were just confirmed.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” You sobbed.

“I’m so sorry. It should have been me.”

Suddenly, the door to your room creaked open and in the blink of an eye, everything changed. The scene before you completely disappeared. All of the bodies were gone, along with all of the intestines and guts piled around them. The pools of blood were gone, the floor wasn’t even stained from it.

The room was exactly the same as it had been for weeks.

It was all a hallucination. They never came for you. They were never murdered right in front of you. They were alive.

You were going insane, but they were alive.

The relief that flooded your chest was short lived once you saw who opened the door. It was the same doctor who wielded the bone saw.

The doctor that dismembered you.

[gab-has-adhd]

i was the last anon... omg u replied!! did not expect that tbh 😭😭 & yeah i don't *actually* hate illumi, in fact i think it'd be near impossible atp because. a) he's way too relatable + b) i adore his character, and his family and his everything bc of how complex he is. he's amazing. stunning. jaw-dropping. horrendous. terrible. terrifying. all at once & I Appreciate Him So Much (tm) for it :]

also speaking of illumi... i am so interested in kikyo. like ik a lot of people in the hxh fandom find her irritating (she is sometimes) but she's a mother too - specifically the zoldyck's mother - and i think as a character, she would have such an in-depth backstory that we haven't even gotten into yet (at least from where i'm currently at rn in the manga lmfao.. manifesting the future chapters give us more abt her bc i Need to know everything about her history in meteor city 🙏)

another thing abt ur reply - UR SO RIGHT ABT WANTING TO BEHAVE LIKE ILLUMI 🙁🙁 as someone who relates to his trauma & thought process, me and him cld not be more different fr. i am too Fiery. i get into too much Trouble for losing my temper at the Worst times. illumi tho?? he looks emotionless (even tho he's not) but i need that kind of detachedness to get around w my daily life 😭 god made me traumatized but not cold as ice How is this fair Please i need a life refund T___T

im so sorry omg i keep writing essays in these asks 🙁 anyways i also hope u have a great morning/day/evening!!! its almost 12am i need to get back to studying for exams LMAOO hope ur doing well tho (drink water bff)

Hi again anon! 🌸 thank you for sending me another ask ufufufu it's almost 5 am for me but it seems I'm going to hae a sleepless night aGAIN for some reasons gnsngmsmcj

Good luck for your exams! I sincerely hope you'll be successful <3 and please never worry about sending me essays hahaha I love it very much 💕

I agree so much with you on Kikyo! I am usually not very big on female characters for some reasons but kikyo is so cool! I need to know more about her! I like her fucked up personality though lmaooo she is a Zoldyck indeed 🙏 like yes she IS irritating but it's because she literally is the MOTHER in a FAMILY OF ASSASSINS I think at this point every Zoldyck is allowed to be irritating LOL

I truly hope Togashi will give us more about her. She's from Meteor City after all, who knows what crazy things happened to her back there! Also I desperately need to know how she met Silva and how they fell in love.

Where are you currently in the manga? Just wanna make sure I don't drop any spoiler material if you send me more asks ufufu!

ALSO OMG I FEEL YOU SO MUCH ABOUT NOT BEHAVING LIKE ILLUMI. Like sure he probably behaves like this because he was deeply traumatized but... look I have ADHD and BPD, nature wasn't very nice with me. The combination makes me extremely impulsive, extremely emotive and very easily angered. My behavior is basically an emotional rollercoaster LMAOOO I just wish I was able to keep a cold face like Illumi 😭 who knows maybe his emotions are wild in his brain but at least he's able to completely conceal them. This is a skill I would appreciate having.

Instead my traumatized dumb ass self decided to gift me the ability to hide my upset-ness until I eventually explode. Which is. A pretty unhealthy behavior LMAO but I'm working on it :)))

Who knows, maybe one day Illumi is going to explode too 😶 not saying I actually want him to explode but somehow I think I would get so emotional if it ever happend to him. Like. Illumi breaking down nervously and. IDK crying maybe. This sounds wildly out of character but wow...

[minthe-lover]

Chapter 211 analysis

So yeah this chapter isn't that good... the only thing that I really like is minthe at the end cause fucking finally we are gonna learn more about what happened to her.

Though the thing that annoyed me the most during this chapter is right at the beginning with how much Persephone was "worried" for.. by mentioning her... uhhh once after she get turned into a mortal.. and then after the kronos fight it is explicitly shown that she forgot about Demeter. Also you know.. she was so busy after the kronos fight to come visit her.. you know.. all that bathing.. cuddling hades.. and skinny dipping... wow so busy.

You never see Persephone actually grieve about not seeing her mother.. or express any actual worry for her. You don't see her getting mad at zeus for making her unable to see Demeter. Nor do you see her mention wanting to see demeter... like christ it would be so easy to just have a few comments of Persephone being like "oh I'm really worried for my mother!". Lore olympus has alot of bad telling and not showing... especially around Demeter and persephone relationship.

Also the reason Persephone wasn't able to see Demeter again don't hold any weight. Repairing the underworld was basically solved by a single dance and we don't fucking see them interacting with the people in the mortal realms. I think alot of the time they spend having cute romantic moment would have been better spent showing them repairing the underworld and Persephone actually being a queen and that would continue as an actually good excuse for her not seeing Demeter.

That and I just... I wanna draw attention to this line cause it strikes me in a very odd way. Especially in the change with how Persephone wants the underworld to be.

The idea went from, there is no punishment ideal afterlife to... a final resting place for the most splendid of mortals.

I know this whole plot on the after life for mortals is probably gonna be very basic and not a focus.. but I desperately hope they don't go for a only "good" people are allowed to have a good afterlife.. especially when the alternative is being a slave or tortured.. plus adding in how with characters like minthe how there is a huge lack of depth with how the story views morality.

Anyway back to the plot, I feel like the whole scene with Cerberus while cute is eh.. kinda unnecessary, and feels like a bit of a waste of time especially during a very important emotional moment. Plus it sort of answered a none question... like.. it's pretty clear that kronos was the one that hurt Cerberus.. cause like... what else would it be? Though i gotta say this panel made me laugh far more then it should... like holy shit is drawing attention to hades weird Pinocchio nose a good idea?

So this chapter was lead by a chapter showing hades just.. objectively being a huge fucking asshole, and you know.. I was actually glad when Hades basically admitted he was worried about his impression from Demeter.. though that quickly went downhill will the whole 'confrontation' of Demeter.

So Persephone and Hades did the amazing thing of expecting that Demeter should know everything about their feelings, and never say.. tries to empathize with Demeter's feelings and worried to help and get to a common ground. Instead they basically just.. ignore Demeter's worries? So it all starts with Hades treating Demeter just passively mentioning that Persephone should come home, as some like.. huge shocking thing equal to like.. threatening to murder her.. like damn.

Like just be clear that you know.. at this point they haven't fucking told Demeter that she wants to say. This is a completely normal assumption.. not to mention that yeah.. after not seeing my kid for ten fucking years I'd probably want to spend more then an evening with them.. so no this isn't some horrible thing for her to say.

Also like... Demeter brings up actual proper worries about their relationship.. again instead of trying to show Demeter that she has nothing to worry about or have Hades actually apologize for his shitty behavior we just have hades standing there literally saying nothing and Persephone not actually talking about any of the points that Demeter brings up.. and just ignores her good fucking worries and just basically goes "hey I'm dating this man I knew for a month ten years ago and fuck the fact that he used to treat my own mother like shit, you gotta get on board and I don't care about your feelings"

Like most of her points are actually important to address, cause yeah.. Hades did use a 19 year old for emotional support.. which like he had a therapist and other friends he could turn to instead of a still emotionally developing teenager. Again it's shown that originally Hades was mainly attracted to Persephone appearance, along with how historically Demeter has seen women abused and valued solely for her appearance it would make sense that she's worried about this. Just look at hera.

Also yeah.. thinking that this is a phase makes sense.. think back to your last year of highschool/first year of collage... now imagine an attractive teacher you had... now consider not talking to that teacher for ten god damn year of constant pinning for that one teacher.. and again.. decided to spend the rest of your life with that teacher.

Demeter brings up understandable and worthwhile points about their relationship.. and instead of trying to have a open and heartfelt conservation with the mother she "missed so much" instead her worries are ignored and she is treated like she is overreacting and stupid. also again... rs.. please stop drawing hades face like this.

I think this chapter would have been alot better if they actually talked. Have hades acknowledge his past fucks up.. actually talk about the problems with there relationships.. talk openly about Demeter and her worries... Like Christ Demeter worrying her daughter may be abused being treated like a joke is terrible. Have Persephone talk about how she doesn't want to fully rush into like marriage.. but still wants to be with Hades.

If you still wanna play the angst have Demeter still be worried about the relationship afterword.. but like just.. don't dismiss the actually good points that Demeter brings up.

Honestly there are only two good things about this chapter.. one is Hades looking like he's gonna shit himself at anger Demeter...

Second is minthe and the scene with the nymphs.. them writing shitty over the top horny fanfic is funny.. and minthe just look a bad ass. like.. hell yes this is the women I love I am so fucking gay-

[erwinsvow]

i think i read this a while back when i hadn't really gotten into cod yet but now that i am very into cod and very very into price i've reread this twice in two days and i am literally starstruck. the prose the emotions the smut i am literally a puddle on the floor completely melted. your writing is literally some of the best i have ever been able to read and i am completely in love with everything about it—characterization, the feelings, the DIALOGUE!! the way he talks and soothes and the APOLOGY which literally had my knees weak. ohhhh my god this is so good i am gonna think about it forever and ever. i already knew your writing was amazing but this is just transcending levels of greatness. i am so in love.

i'm sure it doesn't matter but i'm picking out my favorite lines because woowww i felt something flutter deep inside me actually.

and he leans his head in towards you as he listens intensely, sometimes even laying his large palm against the small of your back

oh holy shit.

His expression is set in a hard scowl, though it softens when he sees who it is.

this part made me smile

Usually, being called ‘kid’ by Price has a warm glow settling in your stomach that you’re absolutely not interested in examining

KID KID KDI KID KIDKDI DI <3

You just have enough time to see his hand reach up to touch the brim of his boonie hat

jdfianfsjsjn the way you included this made me laugh so hard for some reason

You’re stupid. It’s the only reason you can think of to explain the way blood rushes to your head and turns your face hot, your whole body going hot and prickly in response to his low praise.

!!!!!! i felt every word of this sentence so vividly

��I know, love, you’ve been working so hard. What would I do without you, huh?”

HIFSJSAJIHJ !!!!!!!!!!

You’re nodding before he even finishes, desperate. God, yes. You’re not even sure what it is that he’s offering, but you know that you’ll take anything that he has to give you.

'not even sure what it is that he's offering, but you know that you'll take anything that he has to give you' something about this entire line just made me take the deepest sigh and sink a little deeper into my seat

Oh, fuck,” He murmurs, his lips dragging over your overheated skin. “Yeah, you’ll take me just fine.”

oh holy shit. holy shit shit shit shit

i don't even have to say it but that last line.... oh wow please never stop writing

ミmy daddy didn't love me so i guess i've moved onto you

🍓 pairing: captain john price x fem reader

🍓 tags: nsfw, daddy kink, undefined age gap, oral sex, unprotected vaginal sex, rough(?) sex, both reader and price have a daddy kink that they indulge in with very little discussion, allusions to reader having a bad relationship with her father (but nothing concrete), price uses a lot of pet names for reader and also calls himself daddy several times

title is inspired by the song peter bogdanovich by my queen CMAT

masterlist

reblogs are always enormously appreciated!

If there’s one thing you know, it’s that you’re damn good at your job.

You have to be in order to survive in this ridiculous goddamn base. There are protocols to be followed, risk assessments to carry out, weapons and equipment requisition requests to send off, and you have to handle almost all of it for Task Force 141. That’s one thing about working with the military – they’re all about action, and rarely have the patience to fill in their paperwork, and then when they do it’s never done properly.

You’re patient when you need to be, willing to push when you have to, and you make sure shit gets done. It’s not an easy job; you work your ass off, and it’s often thankless. Most of your job is done behind the scenes, whether that’s requisitioning on-the-fly tactical or strategic airlifts, liaising with other units, or trying desperately to smooth over any little problems that might crop up with the higher-ups. 

It’s challenging and exhausting, and you love it, but damn, it can be fucking infuriating. Working in a male-dominated environment is a little bit soul-destroying, with every condescending comment and lascivious gaze that lingers over your body. But none of that matters, because you don’t need male approval to excel at your job. You don’t need male approval for anything.

You repeat it to yourself on the daily, which is something that you’ve never had to do before. But before, you weren’t working with Captain John Price.

He’s not… rude, per se. If anything, he’s always coolly polite. But it’s obvious, so obvious, that he just barely tolerates you. He’s gruff, short, to-the-point, and never speaks to you outside of brusque orders. It takes weeks for him to start trusting you with even the most basic of files, and even then chunks of information are often redacted. And it shouldn’t matter; you’ve worked for men like him before, you know how it goes, and if anything he’s one of the better ones.

In the beginning, when you had first been assigned to the task force, Price had not been happy about it. It had been a tough transition; your assignment had been approved by Laswell in order to take some of the strain of liaising off both her and Price, but the Captain hadn’t been too pleased about it. He had seen you as a sort of interloper, a silly little pencil-pusher sent in by the brass to do the grunt work of administration that no one else wants to do.

But you work hard, you always have done. And maybe… maybe, part of the reason that you end up busting your balls so hard is because you want– no. Maybe you need his approval. You’d prefer not to think about it; it’s easier to throw yourself into your work, and pretend that you’re doing it for you.

You’re not even sure how it started, but at some point, Price starts looking at you differently. Maybe he realises that you’re competent at your job, or maybe he just needs to get used to you. Maybe, you hope, he’s finally starting to realise that you’re good at what you do; that you can be an asset to the team, so long as they actually work with you. 

Whatever it is, he eases off. Stops being such a hard-ass, starts giving you space to do your thing. Eventually, he starts delegating too — stops hoarding the work like a miser, and finally starts treating you like you’re capable of something more than just photocopying.

He’s not a bad boss, not by a long shot. He’s kind, determined, patient when it matters, with a wry sense of humour. He’s also fiercely protective over his team, and that includes you now. 

But he’s also older, by at least fifteen years, and he’s not always the most diligent with paperwork. Typical man of action, you’ve seen it a hundred times before. There’s always something more important to do, and while he’s always so cognisant of your workload and careful not to add to it, he is also all too happy to let you take the reins when it comes to bureaucracy. You like to think that you’ve proved yourself to him, but maybe he just respects competency.

That should be it.

But you’re so ashamed to admit that even when Price stops treating you like you’re a hostile target, you can’t stop hoping for his attention. Your mental chants of I don’t need male approval for anything, I don’t need male approval for anything become a daily thing, and sometimes a several-times-a-day thing.

Because the thing is, Price can be a difficult man to please. He’s always so busy that he doesn’t have time to give you the approval that you’re straining for, but when he does it gives you the most shameful warm glow in your belly. 

A brief nod or a low grunted ‘Thanks, sweetheart’ is enough to fuel you for days now. Even better is when you’re walking along beside him, briefing him on the latest update from the higher-ups, and he leans his head in towards you as he listens intensely, sometimes even laying his large palm against the small of your back. Ostensibly, it’s to lead the way and guide you out of the path of the running cadets, but it just toes the line of professionalism and you flounder under the touch.

It’s stupid. You’re stupid. He’s just a coworker, and you need to keep your issues to yourself.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ

You’re perfectly self-aware enough to admit when you’re in a bad mood.

You start the day tired, and when you check your reflection in the mirror first thing that morning you’re greeted with the sight of a big, fuck-off pimple on your chin. It’s big, it’s throbbing, it practically has its own fucking heartbeat. You barely restrain the urge to pick at it, though you can feel it even when you’re not looking at it.

Your mood doesn’t improve when you get to the small kitchenette by your office and find that someone has used the last of the fancy French Vanilla flavoured coffee that you’ve stocked for yourself. As if that’s not bad enough, your little stash of chocolate digestives you keep for yourself for emergency bad days have disappeared too.

You clench your jaw and continue about your business. Whatever. You can survive without your coffee and chocolate.

Your resolve falters when you see the pile of paperwork on your desk, but whatever. It’s all part of the job. A little chocolate biscuit to nibble on would definitely make your job easier, but you’re a big girl and you’re just going to have to go without.

Then you get the phone call. One that makes you want to bang your head against your desk hard enough to knock yourself unconscious so that you don’t have to deal with this.

It’s time to update the TF141 personnel files. Orders from above, since there’s been significant changes to medical and surgical history in the last couple of months from injuries on missions.

 Normally, that’s not such a big deal. It just involves updating their medical and technical files, making sure that nothing major has changed with regards their addresses or other personal information, even though a big portion of it ends up redacted anyway. 

And, naturally, updating their photographs for their files.

You start easy. 

Gaz is happy to come to your office when you text him, and he stands obediently for you as you take his picture. He’s gotten a metal plate fitted in his kneecap from the last time his file has been updated, and he sits and chats easily with you as you go through his information. He’s a sweet guy, and so easy to talk to, and you sigh with the knowledge that no one is going to make your job as simple and leisurely as Gaz just has.

After he leaves, you target Soap. He comes to your office as easily as Gaz, but he’s significantly more difficult to photograph.

He just keeps smiling, no matter how many times you tell him to quit it. 

“It’s a personnel file photograph, not a photo for your Instagram.” You sigh, irritated. “I need you to have a blank, neutral expression. It’s like a passport photo, Sergeant. It’s for a government document.”

“Can’t help it, lass.” Soap says easily, that stupid grin not even dimming. “I see a camera, I smile. It’s muscle memory.”

You think that your irritation is only encouraging him, which only worsens your mood. In the end, you don’t get a single usable photograph of him for his file. You have to give up on him, swearing that you’ll come get him to try again later. He leaves your office still chuckling, like he thinks your frustration is cute.

You have tougher targets to tackle.

The difficult part isn’t even taking Ghost’s photo — the difficult part is catching him in the first place.

You spend almost three hours trying to track him down (because he won’t read your texts and your phone calls go unanswered), wobbling all over base in your stupid high heels and somehow missing him by mere moments every time. You arrive in the gym, the mess, the firing range, even the barracks, only to see the man’s enormous broad back disappearing out of the other door as soon as you get there.

You can only assume that Soap had given Ghost the heads up that you were on the prowl with a mission and a camera, because the lieutenant is avoiding you like the goddamn plague.

So yeah. You’re in a real bad fucking mood. But you can’t help it — some days your job is entirely thankless, and your mood drops so low that you feel like going home and crying. But you can’t, and you don’t want to show weakness in front of these military idiots, so all you can do is lock your jaw and go about your business the best you can.

You go back to your office, jaw and fists clenched tight, and collapse at your desk with your head in your hands. You have to take a few deep, slow breaths to try and calm yourself, but then you make the mistake of checking your reflection and your mood sinks lower again when you see that the stupid pimple on your chin has worsened.

God, this is just not your day. You have to get these stupid files updated, or it’ll fall on your head. 

Eventually, you reluctantly stand up. There’s no point moping; you have a job to do, whether you like it or not, and your next victim is Captain Price.

You walk to Price’s office swiftly, your feet aching in your stupid heels. You wish you had worn something more sensible, but… well. Even subconsciously, you want to impress.

When you reach his office, you throw the door open and march inside without even bothering to knock. 

Price is sitting behind his desk, and his head snaps up as soon as you walk in. His expression is set in a hard scowl, though it softens when he sees who it is. You guess you don’t exactly pose much of a threat, so he sees no use in posturing.

“I need you for a moment.” You bite out, allowing the door to slam shut behind you.

You hear Price sigh, before he leans back and settles into his chair, making himself comfortable. He’s wearing the same dark compression shirt that he usually wears for training exercises or to the gym, and he’s recently groomed his beard down too. He looks good, though it takes a colossal amount of effort for you to not notice, because you have other things you need to focus on right now.

“Hello to you too, love.” He grunts, wiping a hand over his eyes. “What’s the problem?”

You struggle not to react to that, his low voice both soothing and igniting something in your blood. You take a breath, try to calm down. You’re a professional, and you’re not here to embarrass yourself in front of the captain.

“I’m updating personnel files,” You say, and this time it comes out calm and steady, “I need to take a picture of you.”

Price’s gaze lingers on you, his stern brow softening a little. For a moment, you think that maybe this is actually going to be easy. That he’ll just stand up and take the fucking picture, so that the two of you can go back to your jobs and relax for the rest of the day.

But then–

“Jesus, kid.” He sighs, already shaking his head. “I’m up to my eyes right now. Leave it ‘till tomorrow.”

For a moment, you don’t react at all. You just stare at him, letting those dismissive words settle over you. He’s already looking back at his paperwork, mission briefings and maps littering the desk, and you feel so effectively dismissed. You feel small, so silly and stupid standing in front of him in a way that you haven’t felt since you first started working with the task force. You had thought that you were past this, that you had earned some meagre sort of respect from him.

“I need it done today.” You say, and your voice comes out a little hollow to your own ears.

You don’t need male validation. You don’t. But damn, you’ve had a rough day and the fact that your captain isn’t even bothering to look at you makes you want to cry.

Price sighs, and rubs at the crease between his eyes. He looks just as tired as you feel.

“Yeah, well. I don’t have time. Tomorrow.”

You swallow, pursing your lips. He’s so effortlessly dominant, which means that his careless dismissal stings all the more.

“I have to get the whole team done,” You say, struggling to keep your voice firm. “Soap wouldn’t stop smiling for the camera, I couldn’t find Farah anywhere, and Ghost–”

Price gives a sharp, derisive snort. “Forget Ghost.”

You scowl. “I need to do the whole squad.”

“Not Ghost.” Price repeats, this time slower and with more emphasis. “Simon doesn’t do photos.”

You take a deep breath, trying to stay calm. You’ve been working alongside the task force for a while now, and you’re familiar with Lieutenant Riley’s penchant for covering his face. It’s not something you have a problem with – usually.

“There’s no reason for him to be the exception to personnel photos, Captain.” You say through gritted teeth. “Everyone else is being photographed. The task force might be covert, but Lieutenant Riley is no more–”

“Christ, enough.” Price snaps, his voice a deep boom that has your mouth closing with a click. “The One Four One is my squad, in case you’ve forgotten. I know these lads, and I’m telling you to leave it out.”

You stare, a little taken aback by the harshness in his voice. He hasn’t been this sharp with you in months, not since you had started to prove yourself competent, useful. Now, you can see the warning signs of his bad mood; the circles under his eyes are pronounced, his skin dull in the ugly fluorescent lights of his office. He looks exhausted, his skin lined and dry like he hasn’t been drinking enough water.

You realise, a little too late, that you might have been pushing your luck by insisting on something as silly as personnel file photos. TF 141 had only returned from deployment at the beginning of the week, and Price has no doubt been drowning in reports since.

“This is why I told Laswell you weren’t necessary,” His snarl is entirely unlike him, and he rubs his face furiously, his palms rasping through his beard. “I don’t need someone coming in here and making demands of my squad for– for fucking photographs.”

You inhale shakily through your nose; to your utter horror, you can feel your eyes burn with hot wet tears. It’s stupid – you’ve dealt with far crueller words from far harsher men. The nature of your job often puts you in the firing line for frustration, and when it bubbles over it’s frequently directed at you. 

But this… this feels different, for some reason. You’ve been working your ass off to try and earn some recognition from Price, to show him that you’re a valuable asset to the team, and so his sharp, frustrated dismissal of you cuts deeper than it should.

You hate that your eyes are burning like this. You don’t want Price to think of you as useless, or as the silly little girl who was put on the team by the brass who can’t even do her job right. He was just starting to think of you as competent, and it hurts your ego to have to go to him for help with something that you should be more than capable of handling yourself in the first place.

“Right,” You say, and even you’re startled by the sharpness in your tone. “Fine. Forget the file updates, then.”

You step forward, jaw clenched hard, and toss the files you’ve been carrying around all day onto his desk. They hit the surface with a smack that feels uncomfortably loud in the tense silence that’s fallen over the room.

“I’ll tell the higher-ups that you’re handling it.” You continue, your voice coming out brattier than you’d like. “Since obviously I have no idea what I’m doing–”

“Oh, don’t do that.” Price sighs, as though you’re the one being unreasonable. “What I’m saying is, if you’re going to work with the team, you have to understand the team–”

That, you think, might just push you over the edge.

“Do you think I’m stupid?” You snap out, and Price’s mouth closes. “D’you think I’m– that I’m some kind of idiot?”

Price blinks. It seems like you’ve managed to take him by surprise, as though your bad mood rivals his just enough to pull him out of his own grumpy form entirely. He opens his mouth again, but you’re not ready to hear him speak again just yet.

“I’m here because Laswell put in a request for me to work with you and your squad, Captain. I’m considered an asset to the teams that I work with,” You’re scowling thunderously, all the tension and frustration that’s been mounting all day spilling over. “And I don’t have to put up with being dismissed and unappreciated when I know that I would be respected in other squads for the work that I do.”

Price raises his hands, a frown creasing his brow. “Kid, that’s not–”

Usually, being called ‘kid’ by Price has a warm glow settling in your stomach that you’re absolutely not interested in examining, but this time it only lights an infuriated fire in your belly. 

“Don’t!” You snap, your breath juddering unsteadily. “God, you think I enjoy being treated like an idiot? You think I haven’t had to deal with this from men my whole career? My whole life? Even my father–”

To your abject horror, a lump forms in your throat and you can’t finish that sentence. Your eyes are hot with unshed tears, and you’re pretty sure your lip is trembling. 

Price stands, his stern expression slackening into something like uncomfortable surprise as he moves to step around the desk.

“Hey,” He soothes, lifting his hands. “I’m not your father.”

“I know that!” You snap, irate. You’re frustrated with yourself, embarrassed at what you’ve unintentionally given away. “I wouldn’t want you to be!”

Price’s expression flickers, as though he can’t decide quite how to react to you. You’re more than aware that you’re being childish, but you find yourself unable to temper your overreactions. In the face of your tears and your frustrated anger, Price looks like he’s at a loss.

“All I’ve done is work hard, and tried to take the burden off you to make your job a little easier.” You continue before he can interrupt again. “And all I get in return is stress, and my chocolate biscuits eaten, and breakouts, and– and–”

“Kid–”

“The only person who wasn’t an absolute dickhead to me today was Garrick,” You rage, on a roll now. “Everyone else has just been so– and look how bad my skin has gotten from the stress of having to deal with men who want to act like children–”

Price watches you with an expression that is plainly bewildered as you gesture at the stupid pimple that’s been throbbing on your chin all day. You don’t even think you’re making sense, too lost in your frustration and humiliation to be properly aware of what you’re saying. 

“Your… skin.” He repeats, a little disbelieving. 

You whirl away, agitated. You’re not getting your point across well, and Price must think you’re simply demented. 

“Hey,” He says slowly, approaching from around the side of his desk. “I didn’t mean to suggest that you weren’t doing a decent job–”

“Whatever.” You mutter, running your hands over your skirt in an attempt to straighten out the creases. “Whatever.”

It’s too little, too late. He’s always been a bit of a hardass, and you’ve always tried so hard to please him, to impress him. But you can’t bear to make a fool of yourself like this any longer.

“I’ll leave the paperwork to you. Update it, or don’t. It doesn’t matter.” You say shortly, turning on your heel and marching towards the door.

“Wait,” Price calls out. His voice is firm, echoing with the grim certainty of a man who is used to being obeyed.

But you’re not one of his soldiers, and his command falls on deaf ears. Your skin is still prickling with humiliation; you don’t think you’ve ever been so desperate to get away from the Captain before.

“Sweetheart, just wait a minute,” Price says, and this time you can hear the exasperation in his voice. “I understand that you’re stressed, that’s normal. Everyone gets stressed in this line of work. But you can’t just go and get your knickers in a twist because some of the lads are bein’ difficult–”

“My knickers are none of your business!” You yell. Truthfully, it’s more of a shriek, high-pitched and unsteady enough to have Price’s eyes widening and darting towards the door as though worried about someone overhearing from the corridor.

“Whoa, okay,” Price says with the air of trying to soothe a spooked horse. “You're right. Your... knickers... ain't my concern. But helping keep this squad running smoothly is, and that can't happen if my admin is on edge."

“Oh, give me a break!” You’re beyond on-edge now, sailing right into fury. “You ignore me most of the time when you're not on deployment, you dismiss me when I’m just trying to do my job, but now you’re telling me you need me to not be on edge?”

You’ve reached the door now, your hand clenched tight around the doorhandle as you take one last moment to turn and look at him. He’s stepping towards you, no doubt with the intent to stop you before you can leave, but you don’t plan on giving him the chance.

“Kid, just hang on a damn minute–”

“Sort the files yourself, or do whatever you want.” You bite out, yanking the door open but pausing in the doorway. “I don’t even care anymore. It’s your squad, you do it.”

Price takes a breath, visibly fighting for patience. Truthfully, you don’t know how he hasn’t lost his head with you already. He was already exhausted and in an obviously bad mood when you had stormed in here, and it couldn’t be more obvious that you’ve just made it worse with all of your frenzied anger and borderline hysteria. 

The fact that Price is staying calm and level even in the face of your stress-induced meltdown only makes you feel all the more ridiculous. You wish he would get angry, that he would snap at you like he had when you had first walked in – at least that way you could pretend that you don’t notice the way his stressed scowl had melted into a look of concern as soon as he had seen the tears welling up in your stinging eyes.

“And you don’t have to wear that stupid hat, we’re indoors!” You yell, your voice teetering on the edge of hysteria.

You just have enough time to see his hand reach up to touch the brim of his boonie hat before you hurriedly bolt out of the room, escaping into the corridor before he can stop you.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ

“— just thinking that maybe I’d be better suited with another team, that’s all. I heard Kortac’s liaison is approaching maternity leave—”

“That position is going to be filled internally,” Laswell’s voice is calm over the secure phoneline, a stark contrast to the shaky undertone of stress in your own. “Besides, organising a transfer like that is more trouble than it’s worth.” There’s a pause, then a sigh crackles over the phone. “You still haven’t explained what happened. As far as I can see, you were doing good work there.”

Yeah, you think sourly, because all you see is the paperwork end of it.

“... Internal conflict.” You mutter, playing with the fraying edge of your sweater sleeve. 

There’s a long pause, protracted enough that it makes you squirm. You know what she’s thinking – in your line of work, it’s impossible to avoid clashing with some of the big dominant personalities who are used to getting away with whatever they want. But you’ve always been able to handle it, well-versed enough in diplomacy to know when to stand your ground and when to bow out to avoid unnecessary strife. 

“Internal conflict.” Laswell repeats, her voice as bland as you’ve ever heard it. “Meaning?”

God, it feels like you’re disappointing your mom or something. You scrub a hand over your face, pacing in the living room of your small apartment.

“I know how it sounds,” You say, “But– they don’t want to work with me. There’s only so much I can do if I’m being met with resistance at every corner–”

“You’ve worked with resistant squads before,” Laswell interrupts. “It’s part of the job.”

“Yes, but…” You start, before trailing off. 

She has a point, of course. It is part of the job. There’s no way to professionally explain to your superior that the reason this assignment is so difficult is because you have a mortifying crush on the Captain of the Task Force. It’s making you stupid, making all the stupid bullshit that you’re usually able to look past feel so much worse, especially because all you’ve ever wanted was Price’s approval.

Another sigh. This one, at least, sounds a little more sympathetic.

“Look,” Laswell says, and this time her voice is a little gentler. “I’ve never given you an assignment that I didn’t think you could handle. Whatever is going on, you need to sort it. You’re a capable girl, and the One Four One is far from the most difficult team you’ve had to deal with. There might be some big personalities there, but nothing that you shouldn’t be able to tackle.”

“Mhm.” You grunt noncommittally.

“Sort out whatever’s going on with you.” Laswell’s tone leaves no room for argument, her suggestion falling just short of a command. “If whatever issues you’re experiencing continue, I’ll talk to John–”

“No!” You blurt.

God, you can’t think of anything worse. You’ve already made a show of yourself in front of him, the last thing you need is for him to learn that you’ve gone crying to Laswell about the whole thing. You don’t want him to think of you as any more of a useless little girl than he doubtlessly already does.

“No,” You repeat, calmer this time as you clear your throat. “I’ll… sort it. Sorry to bother you with this, ma’am.”

Laswell hums, and you can imagine her eyes narrowing. Judging by the wind whistling in the background of the call, she’s not anywhere near her cushy office. You’ve interrupted her on whatever assignment she’s on, and she’s been kind enough to listen to your silly little complaints for at least fifteen minutes of her valuable time. You feel more ridiculous than ever, and you pinch at the bridge of your nose.

“... Right.” She says. “Fine. Keep me updated on the situation. I want a sitrep by the end of the week, understood?”

“Yes, ma’am.” 

You understand what’s not being said. Laswell expects you to work your own shit out, but you can hear the concern in her voice when she demands an update. All you can do is agree. Laswell has been by your side throughout your whole career, always having a hand in your assignments and your progression, and she’s always been an advocate for you and what you’re capable of. Now, after this conversation, you feel silly for getting so overwhelmed in the face of what is a relatively minor obstacle.

“Good. I’ll speak to you then.”

You hum, wish her goodbye and good luck, and hang up the phone.

For a long moment afterwards, you sit in silence in your living room. God, how did all of this spiral into such a mess?

For the last few days, you’ve been avoiding the base entirely. You have a few PTO days built up, and you’ve taken the opportunity to just chill out. It’s the first chance you’ve had to relax properly in months, since you had started working with the task force. The space is good, and it’s needed.

You get out of the headspace of work, and reports, and files and requisitions and debriefs, and instead treat yourself with full body self-care. You exfoliate, you moisturise, you use a hair mask, you take bubble baths. You even catch up on the trashy Netflix romance series that you had put on hold for ages, just waiting for some free time to indulge.

And you almost, almost, forget about why you’re hiding away in your little flat in the first place.

But your third day off creeps around, and you can’t help but feel as though your little bubble of isolation is about to pop. There’s only so much time away from the office that you’re able to swing, and the longer away the more you feel that your position on the team is untenable. No matter how you currently feel about the task force and your place with them, you’re not willing to let your hard work go down the drain just because you’re too cowardly to face them again after your little meltdown.

So, you go back to work after your little break away.

You manage to slink into your office mostly unseen, other than polite hello’s from other admin staff as you slip through the halls. Your office is far from prime real estate when it comes to office space on base – it’s well out of the way, down several corridors that no one ever goes down, and once you get past the main thoroughfares you don’t come across anyone. Even still, it feels a little like you’re doing a walk of shame, but you walk with your head held high before you finally get your office door closed behind you. 

To your surprise, your desk is clear. Typically, any slight break away from your desk results in work piling up on it, just waiting for your attention once you get back. You don’t know what to make of the absence of work; you can’t help but wonder, somewhat uncomfortably, if Price had taken your words to heart and dealt with all of the paperwork himself.

You check the drawers of your desk too, just in case, and come up empty yet again. 

Well. Okay, then. 

You sign into your desktop, waiting for the encryption program to load before accessing your emails. There’s a lot to catch up on, so you spend the next hour or so organising your to-do list in order of urgency.

You get lost in making your little lists, allowing yourself to relax into finding order in your schedule. You barely even look up until there’s a soft knock on your office door, and by the time you’ve raised your head the door has opened and Farah has slipped inside.

“Oh,” You straighten up in surprise. “Commander. What can I do for you?”

It’s a surprise to see her, especially since you hadn’t received any email correspondence. Your office is tucked away down a remote corridor, and soldier’s usually prefer to just email you their requests rather than make the trek down.

Farah offers a polite smile, approaching your desk. “I hear you are taking photographs.”

Your smile slips a little. “Oh. No, actually, I wasn’t–”

“Captain Price said I was to be photographed,” She says, pulling the chair out opposite you and watching you expectantly. “I tried to find you yesterday, and the day before, but I believe you weren't on base.”

You shift, feeling abruptly rather awkward. “Right. I was– Price said that to you?”

“Mhm.” Farah leans back in the chair, her dark eyes alert as they track over your face. “He said that you have been stressed.”

You feel your face heat, mortified. Oh, god. How embarrassing. Has Price given the team a goddamn debrief on your little meltdown? Farah tilts her head as though she knows what you’re thinking, and a tiny smile quirks at the corner of her lips.

“That’s all he said,” She says. “That, and that we should try to make your job a little easier.”

“Oh.” You shift, embarrassed and awkward. “I– Listen, I had a… rough day at work a few days ago, that’s all. I’m not– things are fine.”

Farah just nods as though that’s perfectly convincing, and you find yourself wildly appreciative of her for a moment.

“So, then,” She says, and raises her eyebrows. “The picture?”

You can’t find a way to explain that you had thrown that particular responsibility right back at Price in a fit of pique, but it turns out you don’t have to. Farah produces a slim folder that you hadn’t noticed her holding, and you realise with another flush of embarrassment that it’s her personnel file.

“There wasn’t much to update, just a recent blood work test.” She says as she lays it on your desk. 

“That’s… thanks.” You say weakly, taking the file in hand. You flick through it briefly, feeling something in your stomach squirm at the sight of Farah’s details all filled in – Price’s handwriting is unmistakable, the small neat blocky letters standing out amongst the messy scrawl of Farah’s medical report.

You dig out your camera, still a little flustered, and direct Farah to stand against your plain white-painted wall. She’s an easy subject to photograph; she stands perfectly still, unsmiling, and you get the perfect picture after only a couple of attempts.

“Lovely,” You murmur, flicking through the pictures. “Thank you.”

Farah hums. You’re expecting her to dismiss herself, and it takes a moment for you to realise that she’s still lingering. You glance up, blinking, only to find that she’s standing with her lips pursed, obviously considering something.

“The Captain is worried about you.” She says, as though it’s the most natural thing in the world. “Is everything alright?”

You gape at her like a moron, camera still hanging loosely from your hands. You feel uncomfortably seen; there’s no way that Farah could know what happened, but she’s looking at you with an awful lot of sympathy right now.

“What?” You squeak.

“You fought?” Farah speaks slowly, obviously conscious of overstepping her boundaries. “I don’t mean to pry, it’s just…”

“No, that’s okay.” You say hastily. “We didn’t– there was no fighting, exactly.”

She just nods, as if you’re making perfect sense, then smiles politely. She gathers herself up and steps towards the door, and you feel your head spinning as she turns to go. 

“You look tired,” Farah murmurs, low enough that you almost miss it. “When Price wants to fix things, let him.”

“Mhm.” You nod quickly without really hearing her. You’re pretty sure you’d agree to anything right now just to escape the knowing intensity of Farah’s gaze. “Yeah, of course.”

After Farah leaves, you feel like you need another day off. It’s all you can do to just sit in your comfortably padded office chair and groan like a moron, because Jesus Christ you’ve made such a mess of things. 

It was bad enough when you were pining like an idiot from afar; you’ve had crushes before, and you know that you would have outgrown it eventually. But then you had your stupid little meltdown in front of Price, and revealed more than you intended, and all of a sudden you’ve made yourself into a fool in front of the squad you’ve tried so hard to impress these last few months.

You have to try hard not to spiral. In fact, it’s a challenge not to cave and grab your phone to call Laswell all over again to demand a reassignment right this second. You have a pretty good idea of what she’d say to you in response, but still, the impulse remains.

All you can do is put it from your mind. You potter about, printing Farah’s photograph so you can tuck it neatly into her file with a paperclip, and then decide to start replying to the many emails that have built up in your absence.

The emails vary in tone, from polite enquiries to not-so-polite demands for you to solve some administrative issues, and you sigh quietly as you respond to some of the more snotty messages from upper management. And if you’re a little bit passive aggressive, then you don’t think anyone can blame you.

Your mind has finally quietened, focusing on your work as the buzz of your thoughts settle down, when another knock sounds out from your door. This one is firmer than Farah’s soft knock from earlier, and a little louder, though this time you don’t look up from your screen.

“Come in.” You call, chewing at your lip as you struggle to keep the wording of your email civil.

You’re half-expecting it to be Soap this time around, or maybe one of the recruits hoping to get you to sign off on their leave. So when you finally glance up only to catch sight of the broad, thick-shouldered figure of Captain Price stepping into your office, you think you might go into cardiac arrest.

Email abandoned, you half jolt to your feet before changing your mind mid-movement and attempting to sit back down. It ends up being a humiliating sort of jerky motion, and you pray that he somehow missed it entirely.

“Captain.” You wheeze, your voice coming out a little weak.

Price’s cool blue eyes dart over your face and then down the length of your body, and you become suddenly, mortifyingly aware of the state you’re in. You might not want to admit it, but your wardrobe definitely changes when the Captain isn’t on deployment. Instead of professional trousers, you wear your tight knee-length pencil skirts and fitted shirts, and totter around in your heels. And it’s silly, but… well, you can’t help but notice the way Price’s eyes follow you when you dress like that, and you like his attention on you.

Except today, you hadn’t been planning on running into Price. You hadn’t planned on seeing anyone, so you had dressed for comfort — you’re wearing a pair of frumpy grey wool trousers and a super over-sized soft purple sweater that practically swallows you whole. You haven’t even done your hair nicely, and you curse yourself. This has to be the least sexy you’ve looked in months.

“D’you’ve a moment, love?” 

His voice seems loud in the quiet of your office, even though realistically you know he’s only speaking in a murmur. In the quiet days you’ve spent alone in your apartment, you’d almost forgotten how lovely and low and gruff his voice is, and you feel your toes curl in your shoes at the sound of it.

It’s not as though you can refuse him, though you’re already embarrassingly aware of the way in which you had stormed off the last time you had seen him.

“Yeah.” You swallow thickly in an attempt to strengthen your voice, but it still comes out high and thready. “Sure.”

As if he had just been waiting for permission, Price steps into the room properly and closes the door behind him. All of a sudden, the room feels a little claustrophobic. Price is a big man, broad-shouldered and thickly built with a soft layer of fat cushioning those hard muscles, and you can’t help but feel as though his presence is sucking all of the air out of the room.

But still, he approaches slowly, like you’re some kind of feral cat. Those sharp eyes of his are still tracking over you; he never misses a beat, and you know that he’s taking stock of you in the same way he would for an enemy out on the field. You feel raw, uncomfortably vulnerable. You find yourself wishing wildly and ridiculously that you had worn your usual fitted shirt and pencil skirt, or at least put on a bit of makeup.

“You look rested.” He notes, coming to a slow stop just in front of your desk.

You suddenly curse your last minute choice to stay seated, because now Price’s big body is towering over you in a way that’s honestly making your head swim a little.

“Yeah.” Your voice is a little hoarse. “I guess.”

Price nods, inhales through his nose. A moment passes before he clears his throat and reaches out to place a handful of files on your desk. Despite the plain manila envelopes, you recognise them for what they are almost immediately; the personnel files for 141.

“Finished ‘em off for you while you were gone.” He says gruffly, as though it were no big deal. “Nearly had to nail Soap down to a chair for that damn photo.”

You stare at the files for a long moment, making no move to open them. You find yourself totally, utterly lost for words. 

“This is–” You start to say, and truthfully you’re not sure where you’re going with that. You think you’re about to thank him, but he doesn’t really give you the chance to.

“Why don’t we talk?” He says, and motions to the dinky little couch in the corner of the room as if he owns it.

You hesitate a moment, a little peeved about the effortless way he takes command in your own office, but relent and push yourself up from the desk. You don’t make eye contact with Price as you step around him, walking to the corner, but you can feel his eyes on you all the same.

 The couch had come with the office, and you don’t even really want to think about how old it is, but you sink down awkwardly onto it anyway. The cushions are worn and threadbare and the springs creak gratingly when you settle your weight onto it, but it’s fine. It does the job.

You’re half-expecting Price to drag the spare chair at your desk over so he can sit opposite you – you’re not expecting him to step right up next to you before he drops down next to you, sighing as his thick thighs spread wide.

You barely bite back a squeak, a little bewildered. You’re not surprised that he’s asked to talk to you. Your behaviour had been wildly inappropriate, and you couldn’t exactly protest if he’s decided to caution you or something.

But you had expected it to be a more formal affair; sitting together on the pathetic, dingy little couch in your office feels entirely too casual for the dressing down you’re sure you’re about to receive.

“Think we’re due a discussion about the other day.” He says, gentler than you had been expecting.

You avoid his eyes, though you can feel his stare boring into the side of your face. Ugh. Time to eat humble pie, you think miserably. 

“I’m sorry, sir.” You keep your voice as dispassionate and prim as possible. “My behaviour was unprofessional and entirely unacceptable, and I have no excuse. It won’t happen again, I assure you.”

It’s as professional an apology as you can manage, and you chance a quick side glance at him to see his reaction. Your stomach sinks when you see that his brow is creased in a frown, and you panic a little at the realisation that your apology hasn’t helped matters at all.

“Well,” His voice is gruff enough to elicit a little shiver from you. “I wasn’t–” He clears his throat. “I wasn’t looking for an apology.”

That finally makes you turn properly, your eyes darting nervously over his face. He’s already watching you, his blue eyes searing under the brim of his stupid hat. He’s trimmed his beard since the last time you saw him; the salt and pepper bristles of his moustache and chops are neat and shortened. He looks good, though you try not to notice. He doesn’t look as dehydrated or drained as he did a few days ago either, though he still leans into the couch with an air of quiet exhaustion.

“Paperwork has never been my favourite thing in the world,” He confesses with an air of chagrin that’s painfully endearing to you. “Always found it a pain, to be honest. Puts me right out of sorts. I was… short with you, the other day.”

You frown, making yourself small on the couch. “You said I wasn’t necessary.”

Price winces, then reaches up and pulls his boonie hat off his head so that he can drag a hand over his short-cropped hair. Though you had insulted it only the other day, it strikes you as odd to see him with a bare head.

“Shouldn’t have said that.” He mumbles, resting his elbows on his knees and letting his hat hang from his hands. “You’ve been great these last few months. Don’t know what I’d have done without you, sometimes.”

You’re stupid. It’s the only reason you can think of to explain the way blood rushes to your head and turns your face hot, your whole body going hot and prickly in response to his low praise. You fidget, glance away, and pray he doesn’t notice. 

“You know I’m no good at deskwork,” He says, and leans in a little closer like he thinks you’re not listening properly. “Don’t have the head for it. I think you’re the reason the team runs so smoothly in the first place, love.”

The flattery is being laid on a little too thick, but it works. You fall for it entirely, a warm glow settling over you like a blanket, wrapping around you tight and soothing the jagged edges of your anger and anxiety. You hate that you’re so easy to appease, a couple of sweet compliments and assurances falling from your Captain’s lips assuaging all that upset that you’ve been carrying around with you for days now.

But still, part of you isn’t quite willing to let go of the sting, the hurt that his words and his harsh tone had caused. 

“Is this you apologising, then?” You ask, watching him from the corner of your eye.

He smiles, close-mouthed. “Yeah. It is. Not doin’ too good, am I?”

“You’re doing okay.” You murmur, before deciding to try to be a bit cheeky. “But you can keep going, if you’d like.”

Price laughs, rich and warm and low. You don’t think you’ve ever actually heard him laugh in all the months you’ve been working with the task force, and the sound of it rumbles right into your bones, settling something inside of you and finally allowing you to relax. No longer tense with stress, you melt a little into the corner of the couch.

“Shouldn’t have snapped at you,” He says slowly. “You do good work. Great work. You shouldn’t feel like you’re not a valued member of the team.”

You swallow thickly. You feel too warm, your head swimming a little. His attention feels too heavy, heating your blood and going straight to your head.

“I overreacted,” You mumble reluctantly. “I shouldn’t… your hat isn’t stupid.”

That gets another bark of laughter out of Price, and he slaps a hand down onto your knee. The contact makes you jolt, eyes widening, but Price’s hand doesn’t shift. His palm is so large, spread across your thigh as his fingers curl over your knee. The touch feels almost scorching even through the thick fabric of your trousers.

All of a sudden, your tongue feels very thick in your mouth. The hand on your knee is not in any way suggestive; it’s chaste, innocent, just resting there like a reminder that he wants your attention on him (as if it could be anywhere else). But your nerves are jangling all of a sudden, every one of your senses straining towards him as you hold your breath.

“The hat isn’t the problem,” Price mutters, though you barely hear him. “I wanted to ask you about something else you said, love. Something you said about your father.”

That has some of the heat in your veins cooling, your eyes blowing wide. “I– what?”

To your bewilderment, Price’s cheeks have reddened beneath the whiskers of his beard and moustache. Despite his clear chagrin, he doesn’t break eye contact with you, his thick fingers squeezing cautiously around your knee. 

“Don’t mean to overstep,” He assures you quietly. “And– and don’t mind me if I’m talkin’ nonsense. But I know that you’ve been working so hard, and you’ve got a tough job. Can’t be easy. And I just wanted to say that if you'd like some… guidance – someone to steer you on the right path, that is– well, that I’m here if you ever want to talk."

Oh god. You feel your mouth go dry. 

It’s funny, because even though Price isn’t even yet forty, he’s always seemed so much older. Maybe it’s the weight of the responsibility that he carries on his shoulders, or the battle-hardened icy blue eyes, or the paternal sense of protectiveness that he shows over his team. He’s always been like an almost father figure for the squad, regardless of age; you’ve seen the way he’s so protective over Ghost, the way he claps Soap on the back or shoulders in praise to boost him up, the way he beams with pride when Farah excels, the way he always makes time to guide or give advice to Gaz.

It’s sweet. He’s always been sweet, so aware of the personalities on his team, even when he’s acting like that typical military authority figure. 

"Sounds like you want to be my daddy." You mean to say it in a derogatory fashion, laughing as though it's ridiculous, though when it comes out you can hear that it’s missing some of the sarcasm you had intended.

Price reacts instantly. He reels back, eyes widening, the pink in his cheeks flares into a deep red flush, and you see his chest heave as his breath catches. You hadn’t been expecting a reaction like this; Price looks as though the words have hit him like a physical slap.

“Jesus. That’s not–” He says, and the gravelly hoarseness in his voice is a shock. “That’s not what I meant.”

There’s a moment of charged silence. Fuck, what have you done? Why would you say that? Why would you say that, to the captain of your task force? Hadn’t you embarrassed yourself enough in front of him the day you had had your silly little meltdown? It’s like you just can’t keep your damn mouth shut around him, like your brain turns to mush the second he looks at you and you just lose the run of yourself.

“I’m sorry.” You blurt. “I shouldn’t have said that. I don’t know what– I didn’t mean it.”

The next silence is even worse than the last, tension humming between you like a live wire. He’s so close to you that his scent fills your nose – a blend of sweet cigar smoke, sharp gunpowder, and a heady masculine musk. You feel so fucking stupid, and more than a little panicked. You don’t think you could survive the humiliation of having to call Laswell and beg for a reassignment twice in one day just because you’ve completely humiliated yourself in front of the Captain again.

Price swallows, the sound painfully loud in the silence.

“Right.” He says slowly, before coughing roughly to clear his throat. “Mm. ‘Course. I didn’t mean to– perhaps I overstepped. Since you mentioned your father–”

“I don’t want to talk about my father.” You say swiftly.

God, you feel like your issues are out on display with a big damn spotlight. You feel so pathetic, so damn pitiful, as though your desperate need for approval and affection from an older male authority figure is written across your forehead.

But if your issues are on display, then so are Price’s, because you can’t help but notice that the vibrant red flush on his cheeks hasn’t faded. If anything, that deep flush has spread down his throat and over his chest; you can see how the skin that’s stretched over his pectoral muscles is glowing crimson beneath his shirt.

A niggling boldness begins to creep in, and you find yourself straightening on the couch. You turn, bring one of your legs up on the couch so that you can turn your whole body towards him, one of your elbows resting on the back cushion of the couch. 

Price’s eyes sharpen when your body turns towards him, and his body draws tense. Those cool blue eyes dart over you, and you’re surprised to see heat in them despite your oversized purple jumper and unflattering wool trousers. The whisper of his fatigues brushing against the fabric of your own trousers is both a distraction and an invitation, your thighs sliding surreptitiously against each other.

“What if I did mean it?” You blurt out before your courage can flee you.

Price goes so still it looks preternatural, even the breaths in his chest slowing. 

“Kid.” He says, and it sounds like a warning.

You don’t heed it, adjusting yourself so that you’re shuffling closer yet again. You don’t think you’ve ever been so close to him, his scent and his body and his heated gaze filling up your consciousness until he’s all that you’re aware of.

“What if I meant it?” You ask again, the whisper coming out low but charged. 

Price takes a breath that sounds like a groan, and it surprises you. You hadn’t expected that reaction; it sends a trickle of heated desire running down your spine, and you’re startled by how much you want him in this moment.

“D’you know what you’re asking for?” He asks, the gravel in his voice flooding wet heat between your legs. 

His carefully laced words linger in the space between you, daring you to accept, to shred the formal boundary that looms between the two of you. You get the sense that you’re walking a fine line here, that you’re getting close to the point of no return. 

“Yes.” You breathe, although you’re not entirely sure that you do know what you’re asking for. All you know is that he’s so close, and he’s staring at you with an expression of such hunger that it’s making you feel weak.

Price moves fast for such a big man, and all you can do is let out a soft sound of surprise when one of his big hands wraps around the back of your neck to pull you in. A deep, guttural sound escapes him when his lips crash into yours, his mouth demanding and greedy.

It feels like you go both lax and rigid simultaneously, before you positively light up. The hand that Price has wrapped around the back of your neck keeps you grounded, and before you can stop yourself you’re burrowing closer. It feels like the tension, your childish argument, the sexual friction – everything has culminated to this electrifying moment, where Price’s full lips are consuming yours, the hair of his beard rubbing over your cheeks and chin and keeping your nerves straining towards him.

The kiss doesn’t start out slow; it skips straight to hungry, fast and dirty, with Price’s big hands on your hip and the back of your neck, holding and guiding you. Overwhelming. 

Price’s big fucking body is leaning in, caging you against the couch. The wide shoulders and barrel-chested mass of him pressing you into the cushions is just short of breath-taking, but it’s not enough. You want to be right up against him, under his skin.

You swing your leg over Price’s, and climb up into his lap. His thighs are thick beneath you, wide and muscled, but you’re still hesitant to fully settle your weight against him. You just want to be closer, to feel the heat of him pressed against you, but the second you start moving Price grabs at your hips and pulls you down properly, uncaring of your weight.

“I’ve been–” You manage to say in between kisses, your words muffled and a little wet. “I’ve been working my ass off, for the squad, for you, and you never say or do anything–”

Price grunts, grappling with his sudden lapful of you. His eyes meet yours, and in them, you think you might see the spark of admiration, for your brave stupidity if nothing else. 

“Sh, I know,” He says as he grips at your hips under your oversized jumper, encouraging you to settle down your full weight on his thighs. “I know, love, you’ve been working so hard. What would I do without you, huh?”

And the thing is, you’re a very capable woman. You’ve had to be, in order to survive in your line of work. You know that you’re capable, you know that you do good work, you know that you help keep the wheels greased and everything moving behind the scenes for the 141, but even still, Price’s praise sinks into you like warm honey.

“Watching you walk around in those tight little skirts, Christ.” He hums, and his big palms land on your ass and squeeze there suggestively. “And those heels– completely impractical for a military base like this.”

You wheeze a laugh, clutching at his shoulders. It feels completely surreal that you’re currently perched in your Captain’s lap, with his big shovel-like hands groping your bum as he nips at your lips and confesses that he’s been watching you. It goes straight to your head, makes you dizzy, makes you wish wildly that you had worn one of those skirts for him today.

Oh, you could get used to this. Realistically you know the size difference between you two isn’t that immense, but Price is built like a man whose reality is all war, and when he shifts beneath you his muscles roll, unwittingly showing off his physique. You think you could stay here forever, feeling safe in a big man’s lap, cushioned by his body as he tells you that you’re valuable, and important.

“Fuckin’ hell,” Price groans, nipping at your lower lip before capturing your mouth wholly again. “You’re a handful.”

You’d love to argue that – you like to think that you’re perfectly measured and sensible, after all – but you’re already squirming in his lap, your legs spread wide over his thighs. Arousal pools in your stomach, makes you slick your knickers, and you can’t stop the slow grind your hips trace against his thigh.

Price’s breath shudders out of his chest, and his hands clench tight around your hips. “Hang on a sec,” He breathes, “Hold on. I’m still– I’m still your Captain–”

You think that it’s meant to be a warning, or at least a word of caution about the precarious situation you’re in regarding professionalism and inappropriate workplace relationships. What you’re doing right now is ridiculous, after all. You’re still on base, you’re in your office, and if the two of you get caught you don’t even want to think about the consequences. The fraternisation rule shouldn’t apply here, since you’re only considered part of the team by a mere technicality, but even in your lust-hazed mind you can still recognise that sitting on his lap and kissing like this at your workplace is wildly inappropriate.

But if it is a warning, it doesn’t work. The reminder of his authority only inflames you further, and a quiet whimper is torn from your throat when you rock against his lap.

He swears, and beneath you his cock stirs in his fatigues. You can feel the way it fills out where it’s pressed against the seam of your trousers, right between your legs. You reflexively squish your thighs together, tightening them around his hips.

“Christ,” He grits out like a curse. “Alright, then.”

He moves quickly, his hands secure on your back as he lunges forward, flipping you over so that you’re laying on your back on the shoddy, worn-down couch. You go so easily – 

you’re soft now, pliable and eager to please, and he could direct you anywhere he wanted.

He’s too large to be climbing on top of you on a couch like this, but somehow it doesn’t even matter. Now that he’s above you, holding himself up with those strong arms on either side of your head, he looks down on you with an expression that you don’t know what to make of. His eyes are still intense, but the lines around them are softened as he stares down, his gaze tracing your face. 

“You think I haven’t been looking?” He asks, and his voice isn’t as harsh or gritty as you’d been expecting. It’s softer now, fond, almost. “How could I fuckin’ miss you? Always so pretty, always workin’ so hard. ‘Course I noticed.”

When his fingers creep beneath your big purple jumper, you launch into helping him remove it, eagerly stripping it off so you’re laying in your bra. It’s one of your simple utilitarian ones, and you curse yourself for not wearing a sexier one.

But Price groans at the sight of your simple white cotton as though it’s premium lace. His palms are rough as they trace up your sides, the callouses on his fingers coarse against the soft squishy flesh of your belly. He leans forward and nuzzles at your ear, kissing behind your lobe before scraping his teeth along your jaw until he’s kissing messily at your mouth all over again.

“So gorgeous.” He says, his voice a low rumble that has your nerves buzzing. “I was too mean to you before, wasn’t I? Too harsh, when all you were trying to do was help.”

“Yes.” You whisper, though you feel a little bit petulant for it.

“Let me make up for it, darling,” He whispers back, and it sounds like a plea. “Hm? I’ll show you how good you’ve been.”

You’re nodding before he even finishes, desperate. God, yes. You’re not even sure what it is that he’s offering, but you know that you’ll take anything that he has to give you.

He’s looming over you, so large, as his hands fall to the closure on your work trousers. His fingers are so thick that he fumbles with the delicate button and little zip, and it takes him a couple of tries to pull it open and down. When he’s got it, he shucks your trousers off easily and tosses them aside, then stares down at you in your ugly shapeless underwear as though you’re wearing something else entirely.

Even though you’re laying unclothed and vulnerable, squirming and wanting, Price is so slow to get moving. He doesn’t grab at you, or grope greedily, or take impatiently. He acts as though he’s got all the time in the world, leisurely looking you over as though he’s committing you to memory.

“Need you to say it,” He says, strained like he’s trying to hold himself back. “Need you to say it out loud.”

“Want you to show me how good I’ve been.” You say immediately, your desire leaving no room for shame. “Want you to look after me.”

The request comes out a little bit plaintive, and Price sighs out before ducking his head and kissing you again. He’s so much more affectionate than you had ever imagined, and you feel as though you’re drowning in it. His attention is like a warm blanket, settling every craving you’ve ever had.

“I will,” He breathes like it’s a promise. “Oh, I will.”

His palms are rough and hot as they drag over your skin, deceptively gentle as he reaches your tits and pushes your bra up so that he can knead at the soft flesh there. He doesn’t even bother to unclasp it, impatient enough that shoving the cups up so to free your breasts is enough for him. 

He bends his head down, and licks a stripe over your nipple. His tongue feels scorching against you, like you’re hypersensitive to his touch, and he groans against your skin as though he’s tasting something incredible.

You writhe, hips arching up in search of some kind of friction, but Price doesn’t give it to you. He’s too distracted, peppering dozens of kisses over your tits as though they’re something precious even as his hands coast down your back to grope at your ass again where your plain cotton underwear is riding up.

“So pretty, ain’tcha?” He groans against your chest. “Fuck, even when you were walkin’ around with a face on you like a slapped arse, I thought you were the sweetest fuckin’ thing I’d ever seen.”

“Charming.” You snap, but there’s no anger in your tone anymore. In fact, you don’t think there’s a lick of anger anywhere in your whole body anymore, like Price’s hands and mouth on you have washed it all away.

All the brattiness, and the prickliness of your bad mood, is entirely forgotten now that you’re laid out and squirming beneath him. You can hardly even remember what you had been so stressed and angry with him for.

He finally reaches around to unclasp your bra, then tosses it to the side to let it slump sadly to the floor. His next target is your underwear, pulled from you roughly enough that you think the fabric might tear even as his hands cradle the plush flesh of your ass like it’s a treasure.

“Mm, so gorgeous, princess,” It seems like the name just slips out of his mouth, and you feel your whole body draw tense and hot. “So lovely, and I bet you taste even better than you look… like sugar, my sweet girl.”

Jesus Christ. You think your whole fucking body throbs, blood pounding and nerves straining as you wish so desperately for him to touch you. You can’t handle him talking to you like that, so fondly, as if you haven’t just acted like the biggest brat in the world for several days straight.

You can hardly even reconcile this man with the usual stern, gruff man that acts as your Captain, and you let out a choked whine of bewilderment as he slides down your body.

Your thighs are clamped together, shy under his gaze despite how desperately eager you are. You want this, you want him, but you can’t help but feel so mortified by the vulnerability of being nude beneath him on the couch while his big formidable body is still entirely clothed.

Price’s fingers stroke against your hip, his tone low and rich as his lips find your throat again. You can feel his tongue darting out against your skin, his hunger so palpable now that it’s infectious.

“Let daddy see you,” He croaks against the hollow of your throat. “Spread your legs, sweetheart.”

It’s not like you could ever say no to that. The request sends liquid heat shooting straight to your cunt, making you hot and sticky. You spread your thighs, and feel embarrassment flare when there’s a squelch as your cunt unsticks. And– Jesus, Price’s eyes fucking light up, and you realise that he’s clocked your reaction to his honeyed words, the way he calls himself daddy.

The kiss he gives you is claiming and hungry, consuming your lips with a fervour that leaves no room for doubt about his intentions. It’s a taste of both command and reverence — in equal measure. When he pulls away from your mouth you’re breathless, still gasping softly even as he pushes himself down the length of your body.

In the blink of an eye, he’s there — between your welcoming thighs, his hands resting securely on your soft hips, as much a lifeline as a promise of what’s to come. Your pussy is already sloppy, slick and wet in anticipation of him. He shoves his head between your thighs, using his thumbs to spread apart your folds and just look at you.

Your back arches at even the suggestion of his touch, feeling his breath ghost over the heated slick flesh of your cunt. Despite your obvious willingness, and his apparent eagerness, he doesn’t immediately touch you.

You crane your neck to see that he’s staring at your pussy as though the sight of it is earth-shattering. His gaze drinks you in, heated blue eyes taking in the sight of your swollen sticky folds, no doubt throbbing invitingly under his attention. You’ve never seen a man look so hungry, like he’s about to risk anything for it. A dark, groaned "fuck" escapes him as he kneels between your spread legs, head bowed as if in reverence.

"Daddy needs a taste, sweet girl," His deep voice a heavy rumble, vibrating against your soft inner thighs. 

It takes a beat for you to realise that he’s holding himself back, that he’s essentially asking for permission to lay his mouth on you, but then you gasp, “Yes, fuck, yes, please–”

Price takes it as the enthusiastic invitation that it is and bursts into movement immediately, reaching out and guiding your legs wider so that he can muscle in between them properly, before leaning in and finally getting his mouth on you.

You choke, hips aching as you try to spread your legs even further. Price drags the flat of his tongue along the seam of your cunt, groaning as though he’s savouring the taste of you, before wrapping his arms around your thighs to keep you all spread open for him as his tongue rasps over your sensitive flesh.

You want to call out for him, but his name stalls on your tongue. What would you call him – Price? John? Captain? Daddy? You think you would die if you said it out loud.

Then his tongue finds your clit, and your thoughts scatter. He flicks the tip of his tongue over you, back and forth, then flattens it to grind eagerly. You had thought, given the way he had taken that moment just to look at you before he’d pressed his mouth to you, that he would start slow. But instead, he gives you everything he has.

You cry out as he devours your cunt, his bushy eyebrows pulling up in delight as you give him your first moan. While your legs had spread wide in the beginning, eager to let him in, you now close them tight around his head to keep him in place. You have a brief, hazy thought that maybe this is an asshole move of you, a little like if a man were to hold your head down while you were sucking cock, but Price doesn’t seem to mind. If anything, judging by the snarl he lets out when your thighs close around his ears, he likes it.

You toss your head back against the worn couch cushions as jolts of white-hot heat spread from where his mouth is working at you, playing with you, tongue painting long, broad strokes up and down your pussy. 

Your cunt is syrupy hot, throbbing as his tongue rubs relentlessly at your clit. You’re so fucking wet, and you can’t help yourself from rolling your hips more assertively into his mouth. You’re leaking on his mouth, his tongue, your slick drenching his cheeks and his beard.

Seized by a sudden urge to watch, you clumsily raise your head so you can look down. It feels entirely illicit, watching Price’s head between your legs as he buries his face so enthusiastically into your folds. His eyes flash as he glances up, the bottom half of his face hidden entirely in your pussy as his jaw works, the soft hair of his beard tickling your sensitive inner thighs.

With a jolt, you realise that one of his hands has fallen to his lap, his trousers hastily pushed open. He’s fisting at his dripping cock, red and angry and still begging for release against the thick dark hair of his stomach. Sticky pre-cum leaks from his flushed head, pooling into his skin and clothes as his cock bobs and twitches at the sounds of your moans.

The sudden realisation that Price is getting off on this, on the taste of you and the smell of you and the way you’re whining, sets you aflame. He grunts, one of his big hand’s wrapping around his throbbing skin to pump his length to the rhythm of his tongue inside of you.

“Oh, oh fuck,” You press your lips together, stomach pulling tight as his tongue thrusts up inside of you, “Fuck, fuck, fuck that’s so good, oh god, Captain–”

“Yeah,” Price grunts, his words all wetly muffled, his arms wrapped tight around your thighs to keep you in place as he feasts on you, sucking on your clit like it’s a sweet. “I know, baby, I know.”

He’s so accommodating, so nice to you. You tilt your hips up and grind your cunt into his mouth, sighing in satisfaction as his tongue drags along your clit before dipping to lick inside of you. He barely even shifts when you hump your pussy into his face; he only opens his mouth wider, licks at you more enthusiastically as though your desperation is contagious. 

Your belly goes hot and tight, and a high-pitched whimper is torn from your throat. It feels as though you’ve been strung high and taut for months now, and your breath catches at your imminent orgasm. You’ve just been so stressed, and having Price hunched over you on the couch like this with your legs thrown up around his shoulders as he licks and sucks at you so eagerly that it has your eyes rolling in your head feels like it’s curing you.

You think, somewhat madly, that an orgasm like this, with Price’s mouth sealed over your cunt, will solve every damn problem you have right now.

“Wanna come, wanna come, Jesus fucking Christ, please please–” Your chest heaves as you scramble, one of your hands reaching down to cup Price’s head to keep him in place, face buried in your cunt. “Oh god, please make me come–”

Maybe it’s not fair to be so demanding of him, but to his credit Price responds with restless enthusiasm. You double over in pleasure as he heeds your broken little pleas, your nails scraping into the couch as you cling on for dear life. His tongue swirls over your clit quickly and with fervour, tight circles to make your vision go blurry.

You’re lost in the sensation of his hot, wet mouth in your cunt, the way he licks into you like a starving man tasting his first meal. It feels like a sensation overload, as though you’re just completely lost to your own desire, but you just want more of what he is offering. 

You grab his hair again and pull him closer, greedy with need, and he hums in affirmation as he allows you to guide his mouth to exactly where you need it. Arching your hips up, you grind into his mouth, chasing your orgasm. You groan, eyelids fluttering as you wrap your other leg around Price’s shoulders, up around his neck, and his hand snakes around your thigh to anchor you there.

Price’s fingers are gripping at your hips, surely hard enough to leave bruises there. You smile, almost deliriously; you could live with some souvenirs from tonight.

Your feeble gasps start to spiral into whimpers as that hot coil begins to tighten in your belly, and your toes start to curl. When your climax finally hits, it does so with a sense of relief that almost knocks you flat. Your body winds tight then releases, and you convulse in a wave of shudders that has you sobbing out loud.

Your chest heaves as you sob, squirming as Price licks at your clit insistently. It feels like your breath has caught in your chest, your toes curling so hard that your feet cramp. You’re panting like a damn dog as your orgasm rocks through you, until the waves of it subside and you can finally get a full breath again.

From one second to the next your nerves turn red-hot and oversensitive, and you clamp your thighs shut around Price’s ears and whimper-whine pathetically. Mercifully, he gets your unspoken message easily, and finally pulls back, chuckling breathlessly to himself as he pushes your legs apart in order to retreat.

“Fuck,” He says, and his voice comes out as harsh and gravelly as you’ve ever heard it. “Jesus Christ. Knew you’d taste sweet, knew that you’d come so pretty.”

The praise practically slams into you, ripping through you like a forest fire. It feels like you’ve lost your breath all over again, and ridiculously you suddenly feel shy. 

“I–That–” You start to say, but you still feel a little fuzzy-headed from your orgasm and your thoughts fizz away like TV static. 

“Mhm, I know, sweet girl.” He murmurs hoarsely as though you had said something coherent. 

When Price finally sits up, you blink hazily. He had been all hunched over you, crammed into the corner of the couch in order to squeeze himself between your thighs like that, but now that he’s straightening back up again you’re reminded with a tired jolt just how big and broad and strong he is.

A small, self-conscious part of your brain screams at you to close your legs. Your thighs are still spread wide, your cunt on display; you’re still all sloppy and wet, spit-slick and dripping, all puffy from the attention Price had lavished on you with his mouth.

But instead of closing your legs, you let your thighs fall open a little wider and shift restlessly under his intense gaze. Your desire makes you stupid – how could you ever experience anything as mundane as self-consciousness when he’s staring at you like that? He’s looking at you like he wants to fall atop you all over again, and you feel yourself throb – you feel so empty, your body craving something to fill you.

And Price notices the way you keep yourself all spread for him, the way you don’t make any move to cover yourself. Beneath his beard, his face splits into a wide smile, the apples of his cheeks practically glowing with pride.

“Oh, my girl, you're so pretty. Just the loveliest girl in the world with your beautiful face and your hair all wild like that.” He leans in then, and presses a hungry  kiss to your mouth. He tastes salty-sweet, the iron tang of yourself lingering on his lips. His beard is wet too, practically soaked through.

You gasp when he pulls back, overwhelmed by the kiss and the praise and the electric aftershocks of your orgasm. “Your beard is wet.” You observe dumbly.

He chuckles, as though you’ve said something terribly endearing. “Of course it is, sweetheart. That’s all you.”

You mumble a little incoherently, mostly because you’ve just spotted the way his trousers are still unbuttoned and his hard, swollen cock is jutting out from the band of his boxers. It’s angry looking, the head of it so red it looks a little painful, and you feel a sudden urge to return the favour seize you.

But when you reach out, Price is quick to grab your wrist. He transfers his grip to your hand swiftly so you don’t feel as though you’re being held down, his wide palm and thick fingers winding around yours.

“Don’t have to do that, love.” He grunts, shifting. He’s looming over you, hips tilted towards you and his wide shoulders blocking out your view of the office. “D’you think you could take me?”

It takes you a moment for your slow, stupid brain to catch up and process what he’s asking you. Then you nod swiftly, eyes widening. You're wet and sticky and so so empty, and you have no doubt your body is so ready to take him inside. 

You’re still a little limp and drained from the satisfaction of your orgasm, but you keep your thighs spread and wait eagerly for him to touch you again. He doesn’t keep you waiting long; he coos softly at you as he adjusts himself, kissing your tummy then up your sternum and back to your throat. The soft, sweet kisses distract you as he presses his hips between your thighs.

You gasp softly, your clit sensitive enough that when his cock rubs against it, you jolt. Despite the overload of sensation, you find yourself grinding back against him, so desperate for something. As if he can sense what you need, he presses a kiss to your jaw and dips a hand between your thighs. Two thick, calloused fingers circle your clit for a moment and make you whimper, only to dip lower and press inside you.

His fingers are larger than yours, but they still slip into you so damn easily that it’s embarrassing. You barely even feel a stretch, your body so eager for him that your cunt practically sucks his fingers up.

The worst part is the way Price laughs, all soft and breathy as he rubs his callous-roughened fingers into the spongey walls of your cunt. 

“Oh, fuck,” He murmurs, his lips dragging over your overheated skin. “Yeah, you’ll take me just fine.”

You burn with embarrassment, but you still don’t close your legs. It’s silly, but there’s still an element of pride as his fingers rub against the soft inside of your pussy; you want him to see how much you want him, how well you’ll take him. It’s obvious how wet you are, and you hope he’s imagining how good you’ll feel on the inside.

“Need you to turn over for me, love.” He murmurs, gripping at your hips and easing you over so that you’re on your belly beneath him. “That’s it, arse up. My knees aren’t what they used to be. Make it easy for me.”

You usually would make a joke about that, some sort of jab about being old before his time, but you simply don’t have the mental capacity for it. You’re too busy dropping to rest your weight on your elbows as you stick your ass up towards him, arching your back and hoping you look pretty.

He doesn’t waste any more time, much to your relief. Your mouth drops open with a sigh as you feel the blunt head of his cock glide between your slick folds, tapping once against your clit just to watch the way your legs jerk, then finally lining up with your entrance and pressing lightly in. His cock notches, catches, then slides in so slowly that it makes you want to scream.

“Gotta let me in, petal.” He says, using his grip on your hips to pull you back onto his cock in increments. “Relax, relax.”

You had wanted this, you’re more eager than you think you’ve ever been for anyone in your life, and yet Price is a big man and the stretch makes your breath stall in your lungs. Your cunt is sucking his cock in further with a hunger that’s almost embarrassing, even as you wince a little at the feeling of being stretched out to your limits. Though you’re wet and eager and ready, two of Price’s fingers briefly testing inside weren’t quite enough to prepare you for how fat his cock is. 

Your head is spinning. You’ve never taken a cock this big with so little stretching, but neither you nor Price are patient enough to wait. But the stretch feels good, and you find yourself wheezing like a moron as he presses inside inch by inch.

“Fuck… you alright, love?” Price breathes, adjusting his knees on the couch behind you and wrapping his hands around your hips. The motion only succeeds in shifting him far enough away to make you aware of the feeling of him sliding into you again. You both groan, and you feel Price twitch, deep inside you.

“Fuck,” You moan, breath gasping out of you. “You’re fucking huge.”

It feels like you’re learning for the very first time what it really means to be full. For a few seconds, it feels like you can’t even breathe. It feels like his cock is lodged somewhere in your belly, forcing the breath from your lungs as he nestles his way deeper into the eager clutch of your body.

“Am I– s’it too much, honey?” He asks, his voice rough and low as his hands squeeze at the flesh at your hips. “Need me to take it out?”

“No!” You blurt, and your body clenches up hard as though you’re trying to lock him in and keep him from escaping. “Don’t you dare!”

His cock still feels so big, and when you tighten up as hard as you do it almost feels as though he’s fucking impaling you. Price groans as though he’s been shot, and his head lowers so that he’s burying his face into the space between your shoulderblades. His body lowers too until his chest is pressed to your back, joined at the hips as he rocks inside of you. 

“Okay,” He grunts, and you can feel his chest expand as he takes a breath. “Okay, love, but you need to relax. You’re going to squeeze my cock right off.”

“Sorry.” You try to do as he asks, taking a deep breath and allowing your body to go limp and pliant. He grunts in appreciation, and you feel his whiskery beard rasp against your throat as he presses a kiss to your neck as if to reward you.

Your spine is still taut from the pressure of being all stretched out around his cock, and you reach back clumsily to grasp at his belly, the soft fabric of his shirt rucking up between your fingers. Price reaches back and grabs at the neck of his own shirt, tearing it over his head then tossing it aside. Your eyes are all hazy and a little blurred from your overwhelmed tears, but you look back over your shoulder and blink frantically in an attempt to get a proper look at him. 

God, he’s so big and strong, his chest furred with a layer of brown hair curling in whorls over his nipples and down over his belly. You feel yourself pulse in response, your mouth dropping open in a thoughtless gasp of desire. He’s exactly the kind of man you think of when you think of masculinity, and your belly tightens in anticipation when he presses all up against you, heavy and hot.

When he begins to pull out and press back in, the noise you make is utterly pathetic. It feels like he cleaving you in two, carving out a space for his cock every time he fucks back into you. He’s cautious at first, conscious of hurting you, but when your thighs close around his hips he grunts and begins to pick his pace up.

“Christ, you’re tight,” Price says, his voice all rough and muffled against your shoulder. “And you're all mine, love, my own sweet girl, ain’t that right? And daddy's gonna love you so good, isn’t he?”

“Yes,” You gasp stupidly, pressing your face into the couch cushions.

Typically, you find that doggy style can be a position that’s a little detached – usually, you like seeing the face of the person you’re fucking. But right now, with Price plastering his whole hairy body against your back as he ruts into you and the sweet filthy words he’s murmuring to you, this position feels so far from detached that it has your head spinning. It feels like he’s blanketing you, the heat from his skin igniting what feels like an inferno between the two of you. Sweat beads at your forehead, and you moan softly as Price begins to fuck you properly.

You’re bouncing against the couch, clutching at the cushions as your body moves under the weight of Price’s powerful thrusts. The sound of it is sloppy and wet, your bodies smacking together quick and hard. And fuck, it feels good. His cock is hitting that perfect spot deep inside of you, and your entire body jolts with pleasure every time he pounds back in. 

It’s enough to make you squeal, your nails scrabbling desperately for purchase on the threadbare couch cushions in an attempt to stabilise yourself. Your nipples are sensitive from Price’s licking at sucking at them, and your toes curl as your tits are pressed into the rough-textured cushions, electrifying your nerves to the point of almost too-much. 

The noises you make are entirely undignified, and you struggle to muffle them into the couch. Little burbling ah ah ah’s are being torn from your throat every time Price fucks into you, the sensation of his furred balls slapping against you with every thrust has your eyes rolling.

Your body is all loose and pliant from your earlier orgasm, and you whimper as though you’re being fucked absolutely stupid. It’s not that he’s fucking you all that hard, but he’s filling you up so deliciously and knowing that it’s him, your Captain, the man that you’ve worked so damn hard to impress and to please, makes you feel like you’re going to explode. Even through the haze of desire and pleasure, a little part of you is still so aware of making him happy. You keep your back arched, practically waving your ass up in the air as he fucks into you.

“Tell me how you like it, sweetheart. Tell me how it feels.” Price says in a low, rough purr. His chest is still pressed to your back even as the two of you pant and sweat as you rock together. “Tell daddy how good he's making you feel.”

Jesus Christ, Price feels like a fucking furnace against you. It feels almost as though you’ve been glued together, your skin sweat slick as he ruts into you like an animal. Your lungs are burning, and your mind is completely scattered. Getting fucked like this feels feels primal, an exchange of power through pleasure; you’re aware that he’s asked you a question, but you can hardly string two thoughts together. All you can do is squirm and whimper in below him as his weight pins you in place.

“Good,” You groan, vaguely aware that tears are leaking from your eyes and soaking the couch beneath you. Your vision is blurred, and you can’t even see straight. “I just– it’s so much–”

“I know,” He rumbles. “But you can take it, can’t you? You’ve been so good, sweetheart.”

The praise does exactly what he’s hoping for; you practically melt into a puddle beneath him. Your thoughts are slow and sluggish, and your jaw hangs open as you fucking drool. Even still, you manage to nod your head clumsily. You can take him – it feels like a point of pride to prove it now, to show off how good you can be.

Price’s rhythm is practically machine-like, and you make a quiet sound of pure appreciation when his cock slams into that gummy spot inside of you that makes you lose your breath. It’s as though he takes note of it, because from that point on he stays absolutely jackhammering into that little spot, making you see stars and have to bite your lip to stifle your moans. His balls would slam against your clit in a repeated motion that made your underbelly tighten like a coil so close to snapping.

He groans every time he sinks into you, his growls rumbling into your back and ratcheting up the intensity another notch. You feel lost in a sea of sensation, moored only by the places of contact between you and Price. Your hips are humping back against Price’s cock unconsciously, unable to help yourself and unable to get enough of him.

“I wanna come again,” You say, and it comes out in a demanding sort of whine. It’s a little humbling to hear yourself and realise that you sound so honest to god bratty, but you can’t bring yourself to care when Price is apparently in such a giving mood today. 

“You’re gonna come, love.” He promises. His voice has that tone to it, the one you’ve always tried to ignore during work because it makes you so horny. The authoritative one, when it drops just a bit in pitch, when it sounds just a little like a threat.

But despite his promise, he doesn’t change his steady pace. You’re just this side of overwhelmed, but you still need more to push you over the edge into the second orgasm that’s simmering in your lower stomach. 

“Please, daddy,” You let the name pass your lips on a whimper, finally giving in and calling him by the title he’s so clearly craving. He’s fucked all the shame out of your body at this point, leaving you with nothing but white hot desperation. “Please, please make me come again–”

“Fuckin’ Christ–”

Price’s arm reaches around your front, and you’re startled when his big palm wraps around your throat. You think for a moment that you’re about to get choked, but no pressure follows. He just grips you there, gentle and secure, before using his hold on you to pull you back against him so that he’s rutting up into you at a speed that’s overwhelming in the best way. His other arm reaches around your belly so that he can rub at your clit as he rails you into the couch. His soft grip on your throat ensures that no matter how much you try to squirm your way back into meeting his thrusts, you’re forced into stillness. 

It’s exactly what you wanted, and it has you wheezing and hiccuping out moans on every stroke. It’s better than you ever could have hoped for, and you’re nearly sobbing from the sheer sensation of it all. You feel your abdomen drawing tight, heat beginning to build rapidly in the bottom of your belly as he strokes at your clit hard and fast at a pace that matches his fucking.

You know that you’re already starting to shake, trembling from head to toe. You can’t even keep your back arched anymore, though you don’t think Price gives a shit because he just nuzzles at the base of your shoulder as he fucks into you. Between his cock and his fingers, everything just feels too much but your body is strung taut as you proverbially climb higher and higher.

“Oh god, I’m– yes, yes, yes–” You chant, your voice high and reedy and so damn needy.

Then the world falls out from under you. With one last whimpering moan, your body convulses beneath the heavy weight of your captain’s big body. Your vision practically wipes out, and you squeeze down around Price’s dick and pulse. Your whole body rocks with the flood of pleasure, the warm fuzzy feeling that makes you feel as though you’re losing your mind. You know that your hips are twitching madly, simultaneously trying to get more and less as you get overwhelmed by the feeling of him fucking you through it all.

You’re still coming down from the sweet release of your orgasm when Price practically tears himself away from you, leaving you cruelly empty and clenching around nothing. You let out a sharp sound of loss, startled that he’s pulled away so suddenly, and you find yourself slumping bonelessly against the couch now that his hands are no longer supporting you.

The wet shlurping sounds from behind you prompt you to glance lazily over your shoulder from where your face is smushed against the cushions, and you’re blessed with the sight of Price tugging his cock furiously behind you. His cheeks are bright red as he stares at the mess he’s made of you, his jaw soft and his mouth open as he pants.

He sees you looking, and whatever expression is on your face seems to be his undoing. He takes in your tear-clumped eyelashes and your dazed expression, and you can practically see the moment he hurtles over the edge. He practically snarls, his nose scrunching in a way that’s unexpectedly adorable right as his cock gives one fat pump of thick white come, then several smaller sputterings that collect in a creamy puddle right at the base of your spine, just over the swell of your ass.

You sigh, your eyelids fluttering lazily shut as you relish the feeling of his hot come hitting your skin. You still can’t manage to pull yourself together, feeling loose and floaty like you’re on another fucking planet entirely. You’re only distantly aware of his big palm rubbing gentle circles on the small of his back; you think for a second that he’s just trying to soothe you, until your fucked out brain catches up and you realise that he’s rubbing his come into you like it’s goddamn lotion. Your cunt gives a tired throb at the realisation, fluttering as though it’s sad that he didn’t come inside.

“Fuck…” You hear him rumble from behind you, then a hot heavy weight settling over you yet again. This time, he pulls you back into his arms to hold you tight against his chest. 

You go perfectly limp, curling into him and nuzzling into his sweaty hairy chest. Despite yourself, you’re reminded of cuddling with a massive teddy bear. All you can do is hum, basking in the affection and hardly able to think at this point after he’s turned your brain into a slurry of feelings without thoughts.

“You okay, love?” Price asks. You can feel his nose nuzzling against your temple, though you can’t quite summon the energy to open your eyes again. “Did I go too hard on you?”

Your legs are still shaky, your hamstrings aching and your back throbbing a little from the pounding you’ve just taken. But Price is being so lovely and soft, so gentle with you right now. His hands coast over your hips, your back, your waist, squeezing a little bit just because he seems to like the way you feel in his hands.

“Shhh,” You drawl shakily. “Don’t make me think right now.”

A low chuckle, and you feel his broad chest rumble with it where your head is laying atop him. His fingers run up the length of your spine, the touch making you shiver. He touches you like you’re delicate, a stark contrast to the way he’d just fucked you into your sad little office couch. It makes something in your belly squirm.

“Alright. My girl just needed to switch off for a while, hm?” He murmurs, and you can hear the clear undertone of amusement in his voice. “How are you going to finish out work today if you’re all sleepy like this, huh?”

That wakes you up a little, and you finally blink your eyes open again in order to look up at him. An edge of panic is beginning to creep in as awareness comes back to you, and you take a deep breath as your hands curl against his chest.

“Oh my god.” You blurt, eyes growing wide. “I– we’re at work!”

“Sharp as ever, darling.”

Not even Price’s lazy wryness can distract you now. You try to wiggle off the couch, already craning your head around in search of your clothes, but Price’s thick arm locks tight around your middle and keeps you pressed to him.

“We have to– oh my god, we have to get dressed, what if someone walks in–”

“Shh, shhh, I locked the door when I came in,” Price grumbles. He doesn’t appear too impressed with the way you’re attempting to wiggle away, but it doesn’t matter so much; even with one arm he’s perfectly capable of keeping you pinned in place against his chest. “Lie back down, love.”

Slowly, you let yourself relax back into him. It’s hard to hold onto your panic when he’s so obviously unbothered, so you end up hesitantly snuggling back up against his chest as his arms come up to close around you. Despite his encouragement, you’re unsure whether or not you’re allowed to be touching him like this. But his hands don’t stray from you, not even once, and gradually you return to your previous state of being a puddle of limbs and pliant muscle.

“That’s it, relax.” He coaxes, clearly pleased now that you’re melting back into him. 

“I have so much work to catch up on.” You grumble, though you have no intention of actually going anywhere now that he’s given you the greenlight to stay like this.

His chest vibrates beneath your cheek, and you realise he’s chuckling again. It feels good, and you sigh softly as your fingers stroke lightly over the defined shape of his soft pecs.

“You think I wasn’t capable of keeping the ship afloat for the couple of days you were gone?” He asks, one hand stroking over your flank then dipping lower to flatten his palm over your left asscheek. “I finished out those little files you were stressin’ over. No picture of Ghost for his, but like I said, that’s standard.”

You had known that he had finished updating the files for you when you had seen Farah’s, but hearing it straight from his mouth is something else entirely. You purse your lips and lower your eyes, still embarrassed about your little freak out despite his apologies. 

“Thank you.” You mumble. 

You try to hide your face in his chest again, but a large hand on your jaw stops you by tilting your head back and forcing you to look at him. A thumb strokes over your cheek, and then he’s leaning in and pressing a sweet kiss to your mouth. You respond tiredly but eagerly, still hardly able to believe that your boss that you’ve been mooning after for months is being so affectionate and intimate with you.

Price pulls back slightly so that your lips are just barely touching, breathing each other’s air for a moment.

“Ask for help when you need it, sweetheart.” He murmurs, his lips dragging over yours. “That’s what I’m here for. We help each other with the workload, alright?”

“Yeah,” You breathe, leaning in eagerly in the hopes of getting another kiss. “Alright.”

Price smiles, his cheeks going all full and round as his eyes crinkle, and you feel your heart throb so violently it feels as though it jumps right up into your throat. He leans in and kisses you again, soft and sweet as his beard rasps against your chin.

You want to stay like this forever, wrapped up so warm and cosy and safe in his arms. He makes you feel so safe, like you’re valued and appreciated, and you can’t even feel bad about being lazy because he so clearly doesn’t want to move either.

“Let me come home with you tonight,” He says suddenly, and you feel his bicep contract as he squeezes you closer. “You have an apartment off base, don’t you? I’ll… why don’t I cook you dinner, hm? Want to show you how much I appreciate all the work you do.”

There’s a pause, then he adds cautiously, “If I’m not being presumptuous, that is.”

You can’t stop the shy smile from overtaking your face. He’s so sweet, and being on the receiving end of this kind of attention from him is more than you ever could have expected. Ridiculously, he seems a little nervous as well, and you come to the slow realisation that he had been vulnerable with you as well when it came to his interests when he had fucked you.

“I thought this was you appreciating the work I do.” You say coyly, glancing pointedly at all of your bare skin pressed up against his.

“Mm. You do a lot of work, and I’m very appreciative.” Price murmurs, squeezing teasingly at your ass.

You giggle despite yourself, relishing the light-hearted air between the two of you. At the sound of your laugh, Price’s expression brightens further; it’s strange, seeing your usually stern, stressed captain being so sweet with you. You’re so used to seeing him with that flinty determined look in his eyes, or barking orders, or with his eyes sagging with exhaustion after a long deployment only to return to a pile of mission reports. Seeing him like this, with those soft eyes and a fond smile, makes your heart feel as though it’s beating out of rhythm.

“I said I’d look after you, sweetheart.” He murmurs, and this time his voice is missing that teasing undertone from before. He sounds so earnest now, almost painfully so. “You just need to let me.”

Yeah, you think to yourself as you let yourself succumb to the drowsy haze that’s been tugging at you, allowing your eyes to slide shut as you nuzzle into Price’s bare chest. You think letting John Price look after you might just be the easiest thing you’ve ever done.

[taestefully-in-luv]

The Hero's Countdown | PJM (One)

Summary: Soulmates: The one you are bound to. In this world, you feel everything they feel. Their joy, their pain, everything. Once day you feel the most excruciating amount of pain only to find out your soulmate has died. What happens when the God’s of Time offer to turn back time so you can make things right and save your soulmates life?

Pairing: Jimin x Female reader

Genre: soulmates au, Gods au, fluff, smut, angst, crack

Word Count: 9.4k

Warnings: swearing, suicide, mentions of sex, oc is kinda a bitch

Notes: And the first chapter is finally here! Sorry it took so long!! I don’t know why I have been so nervous to post this…but It’s going to be a fun journey! Send an ask if you want to be added to a taglist or if you just want to chat:) (Remember this is all fictitious)

Taglist: @mawwnsterr @fancycollectormoon

© taestefully-in-luv

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

June 21

Pain. Excruciating pain. You feel it in your chest first, then the intense feeling travels from your beating heart to the tips of your fingers. You choke on air trying to compose yourself, but the pain is so unbelievably powerful that you struggle to catch your breath. Something’s wrong. Something is terribly wrong. Your hand goes to your chest, you pull at your shirt as you try to breathe and then suddenly it stops. Just like that. Something happened. Something happened to him.

~

Soulmates: Two people with the soul connection who feel they are linked on a soul level in a significant or extraordinary way. In this world that means the person you are bound to. When you meet you feel an incredibly intense pull of instant recognition and intense attraction followed by intense emotions. And you feel everything they feel. Their joy, their pain, just everything if it’s considered intense. Physically and emotionally. And that doesn’t stop until you officially “connect” with your partner. What does that even mean? Connect? Does that mean fucking? That sounds like it means fucking. It probably means fucking. You don’t believe in all this bullshit though. The universes predestined bullshit can kiss. Your. Ass.

You’ve learned the hard way that even destined soulmates can’t always make it work…and leaving it up to fate leaves a bitter taste in your mouth. So you ignore fate. You do the very opposite of what fate wants. Fate is strong though and very hard to ignore. It pulls you in the direction of your soulmate constantly—quite literally. Whenever you get the urge, like urge to do something—like out of nowhere get the idea to visit the new bookstore down the block…even though you don’t care for reading. Yeah, that’s a sign that fate is trying to work its magic but you resist that god damn urge and do your own thing. And that’s just one example.

Feeling all your soulmates feelings wouldn’t be so horrible if the man you are destined to be with wasn’t so god damn emotional. Fucking Park Jimin. Yes, you’re well aware who your soulmate is…how else do you know how to avoid him so perfectly? As much as you can at least…considering… But he doesn’t seek you out either—thankfully. But you know he wants to. You can quite literally feel it…his yearning is so powerful it makes you nauseas. But he agreed to stay away. So now you live your life however you please! You have an amazing job that you love, a fantastic group of friends and a hot man you sex up on the regular. Things are good!

The only thing that isn’t good is that you still haven’t bought Isabelle a gift for her birthday party tonight. You’re walking on the sidewalk back to work from getting a coffee on this breezy Monday afternoon when you are hit with realization that you are the worst best friend ever. She always goes above and beyond for your birthday but you can’t even think of a decent gift for her! You listen to the click clack of your heels hitting the pavement as your mind wanders…what could you possibly get her that she doesn’t already have?

You feel your phone buzzing and speak of the devil.

“Hello?” You bring the phone to your ear and your coffee to your lips.

“Please tell me you didn’t invite Julio to my birthday event? Because I just got a text from him asking if he needs to bring anything.” You hear your frazzled best friend on the other line.

“He’s my date tonight.” You say nonchalantly. “Come on, when you guys drink together you…kind of…get along.” You shrug even though she can’t see you.

“Good lord, y/n. You know I can’t stand him. I know he’s got “that good dick” but couldn’t we have went one night without him.” she whines into the phone and you chuckle.

“I’ll make sure he behaves.” You promise. “Now tell me,” you stop at a cross walk and wait for the little person to light up. “What the hell do you want for your birthday?”

“…classic y/n.” Isabelle sighs out, “Just do what you did last year and buy me yet another scarf for my collection.”

“Okay I’ve only bought you like three scarves.” You defend with a pout.

“Four actually, but okay.”

“I’ll just figure it out. See you tonight boo.”

“Fine, see you tonight.” And then you’re bringing the phone down and clicking the end button. Isabelle and Julio (your fuck buddy) don’t necessarily get along. They’re both too similar, you think. But neither will admit that. You’ve been seeing Julio for a few months now, it’s nothing serious of course. He has yet to meet his soulmate and you’re just totally against soulmates. So it makes for good sex.

You walk up to your building and take a deep breath, time to get back to work. You love your job, you really do. But you constantly put your job before your sanity. Because—

“Oh hey.”

Him. You felt him before you even saw him…that’s how strong the pull is. Fate is a funny thing. It brought you to this job, and it brought you to him. But instead of purposely choosing another path and avoiding him like the plague you chose to endure. Because you fucking love this job.

You write scripts for video games and it’s the most fulfilling thing in your life right now…yes even more fulfilling than Julio’s dick. But seeing him 5 days of the week and feeling how he yearns for you is really fucking your head up.

“I said don’t talk to me, remember?” you say with a tight smile. “Seeing you is hard enough.”

Jimin’s eyes soften as he looks at you and he offers an apologetic smile.

“Goodbye, y/n.” and he’s walking past you as he decides to take the stairs while your lazy ass waits for the elevator.

Pain. You feel his pain. And you wince at the overwhelming feeling. But you have to endure and move forward!

“Afternoon y/n.” Your boss comes up to you as you both wait for the elevator. “You got that new script ready for me?”

“Yes sir, I’ll bring it up to your desk before I leave work today.” You offer him one of your sweeter smiles and he brightens.

“Great!” he chuckles wholeheartedly and pats your back, then he’s walking forward once the elevator arrives.

You sigh out in relief that he didn’t question you further…because in truth, that script is not ready and you’re about to have to work your ass off for the rest of the day.

~~~~~

It’s pretty chilly for being an evening in the summer but hey, you won’t complain. It’s better than the blistering heat from a few days ago. You have the address on your phone for the restaurant you’re meeting Isabelle at for her birthday bash. The streets are busy as usual since the city never rests. You walk towards a group of people when you suddenly are hit with an intense feeling of…despair? God, it hurts. But it’s over just as quickly as it started. You compose yourself and continue walking…a few worried looks from strangers but you brush it off.

“She’s finally here!” Isabelle slurs out, “My best fucking friend bitches!”

“Oh my god who let her get drunk before dinner?” you ask, scratching the top of your head as Isabelle rushes to hug you.

“It’s my birthday, I can do what I want.” She drunkenly giggles. “Hurry, hurry.” She ushers you to take a seat and you do. You plop down in the spot next to her, setting your birthday bag down on the ground.

“Another scarf?” she teases, pointing at the bag.

“And if it is?”

“Then I’ll love it you predictable bitch.”

“Hey gorgeous.” You feel a pair of lips kissing your cheek and you know just who they belong to.

“Hi.” You breathe out, “just getting here?” you ask and Julio nods his head yes.

“I didn’t want to get here way earlier than you…I wouldn’t have a friend to hang out with.” He playfully pouts, “But you’re here now.”

“Yes, now you have a friend.” You wink.

You’re about to speak again when another wave of pain hits you. You throw a hand over your racing heart and breathe out heavily.

“Hey, you okay?” Julio rubs your back, “y/n?”

And then it disappears as quickly as it came…

“Yeah, yeah.” You gasp out, “Jeez, wow.” You whisper. “I’m fine.”

Julio gives you a look of concern before he’s nodding his head slowly and turning his body to grab a drink.

“If you say so.” He mumbles.

You try to shake off these strange feelings, and try to have a good time. Isabelle is throwing back drink after drink and after dinner you join her. You begin to loosen up, the alcohol working its drunken magic on you. Isabelle is dancing on a table as the restaurants staff tries their best to get her down, you just watch and laugh like a maniac.

Everything is going good, really good…until pain.

Pain. Excruciating pain. You feel it in your chest first, then the intense feeling travels from your beating heart to the tips of your fingers. You choke on air trying to compose yourself, but the pain is so unbelievably powerful that you struggle to catch your breath. Something’s wrong. Something is terribly wrong. Your hand goes to your chest, you pull at your shirt as you try to breathe and then suddenly it stops. Just like that. This wave felt like death itself. Something happened. Something happened to him.

“y/n? y/n?” You hear Julio call out for you desperately as you try to even out your breathing.

“Hey, you okay?” his voice sounds so distant, like he’s getting further and further away from you. “Get out of my way!” You now hear Isabelle’s voice, she’s pushing through the crowd that surrounds you. “I said, get out of my way!”

Then finally she’s at your side, you are heaving, you are struggling to breath. You feel your cheeks wet from the tears that managed to escape your eyes unknowingly.

What the fuck happened? What’s happening?

Finally, after several minutes of gasping for air, you manage to relax.

“What the hell happened? Are you okay?” Isabelle looks at you with worried eyes, her hand on your back as you straighten yourself.

“Isabelle…I think something happened.”

“What?”

“It’s Jimin, I can feel it.”

Isabelle’s eyes widen and she nods her head in understanding. “Let’s get you home.”

“You have reached the voicemail box of…” you slam your phone down on your coffee table and sigh out in frustration. You have called Jimin maybe 10 times now but it just keeps going to voicemail. What the hell happened? Is he okay? This feels wrong, you feel wrong. You feel empty for some reason like someone stole your life away, like they sucked it right out of your body. You feel weak. You are barely able to move from the coffee table from how fucking weak you are.

You decide to call it a night, you will just confront Jimin at work tomorrow and ask what the hell happened. You drag your weak, weak body to your bed and try your hardest to fall asleep. But all you can think about is Jimin, he’s taking over your mind. Like, you can’t control it. You see images of him and images of his life, maybe you are just imagining it? But you’re sure these are images of his life…is that something soulmates can do? You toss and turn for hours, until finally you see the sky turn a dark blue and eventually the sun is rising.

You decide to just say fuck it, and get up. You’ll get to work early today. You have so much trouble getting ready, you feel ill. Like, a demon sucked you dry of your energy. But you endure because you really need to see Jimin today.

You grab a coffee on the way to work when you feel yourself being pulled into the direction of your office—Jimin must be there. You walk a little faster and when you finally reach the building you notice something is off. There’s groups of people gathered around the building and police officers inside, you walk in and see your boss talking to one of the officers.

“Oh y/n!” your boss calls out to you, his hand raised up to get your attention, and then he’s waving you over.

“Yes?” you look between him and the officer, “What’s up? What’s going on?”

“Did you know Park Jimin?” The officer gets straight to the point.

“I…do…” your eyes scan the inside of the building and you notice a couple of women that work in your office crying into each other’s arms.

“Do you know if something was going on his life? Something that could lead him to commit suicide?”

“C-Commit?” you look around the room again, you notice your boss looking antsy and the couple of women crying did happen to work in Jimin’s department.

“Yes mam, we understand this is difficult. But any information you have could be crucial. We need to make sure we can rule this out as suicide and not something more serious.”

“He loved his job.” Your boss cuts in nervously, “So it’s not because we didn’t treat him well or something…”

“I’m sorry,” you mumble, “Commit suicide?”

“We found Park Jimin’s body this morning in his apartment. Overdose it seems. His elderly neighbor usually brings him breakfast in the mornings and when he didn’t answer she got concerned. She was shocked to say the least.”

“He-He’s dead?” you blink at the officer repeatedly, “He died?” you are in a state of shock yourself. There’s no way…you just saw him yesterday…but…but those waves of pain you felt then that huge wave that felt like…death itself.

“I think you’re wrong.” You say, in a state of denial now. “Jimin was just here…I just saw him yesterday.”

“Time of death is some time last night.” The officer confirms. “That’s her!” you hear the voice of a woman scream out. “That’s that bitch!” you turn around in a daze, trying to find the source of the screams.

“You fucking bitch!” you see a woman charging at you, screaming at the top of her lungs with her finger pointed in your direction.

“M-Me?” you point at yourself in confusion.

“He just…why couldn’t you give him a chance?” The woman breaks down, falling to her knees in front of you. “You’re his soulmate for fucks sake. This is all your fault!” She cries out, defeated.

You stand here, confused as hell. He told people? And how is this your fault?

“H-He’s not gone.” You say weakly, your shock still very fresh. “I’ll call him.” you quickly grab your phone from your pocket and dial Jimin’s number.

“You have reached the voicemail box of….”

You gulp, trying again…

“You have reached the voicemail box of….”

And again.

“You have reached the voicemail box of….”

Fuck, why isn’t he answering? You start to panic now. You blink back growing tears, your body seems to be growing weaker and weaker.

“He’s just…”

“He’s dead!” she screams out, looking up into your eyes, her own eyes bubbled over with tears. “And it’s your fucking fault!”

The officer is helping the women off the floor and escorting her outside the building. You stand here in complete shock still, your body about to give out on you. There’s absolutely no way Jimin is dead. And there’s absolutely no way it’s your fault. Right?

~~~~~

Your limbs are so overwhelmingly heavy as you are draped over your sofa. You are unable to move. You can’t sleep, you can’t eat. You are unable to form sentences at this point, you feel drained. Completely drained. You still can’t believe the news. Jimin is gone. You don’t want to believe it but you do feel heartbroken…you feel so lost and empty and incomplete.

You close your eyes, hoping to drift off into a deep, deep sleep.

“We should let her sleep…”

“No! Girl needs to wake up and we need to get this show on the road!”

“Jin…”

“What? The more time she sleeps the more time she wastes.”

“We literally control time we can let her sleep for 5 more minutes.”

“Exactly, we control it so you know how precious it is, Namjoon.”

You swear you hear voices but you’re too fucking tired to open your eyes, they sound so far away…

“Listen I’m only letting her have these 5 minutes because girl needs her beauty sleep. Do you see those horrible dark circles?”

“That’s what you’re concerned about?”

“Okay, she has like 30 seconds left and we are waking her ass up.”

“Fine.”

“Hey! Hey!” your shoulders are getting fucking rocked as somebody tries to wake you. “Wakey Wakey, hands off snakey!”

“She doesn’t have a snakey dude.” You hear another voice.

You slowly begin to open your eyes when you see a man with his hands on your shoulders. You scream. You scream bloody murder.

“Hey, woah, woah!” The guy puts his hands up in surrender. “Not going to hurt you!”

“We’re just here to talk.” The other voice cuts in, you snap your head to the side and notice another man. You scramble on the sofa, getting into a defensive position as you scream again.

“Have ourself a screamer, don’t we?” the first man winks, “Huh? Huh?” he opens his arms wide and shakes his head around. “No? Tough crowd.”

“Who the hell are you two? Take what you want! Please just leave me alone!”

“We don’t want anything and leaving you alone isn’t something we can do.” The second man says, he sighs out and crosses his arms. “Look, we need to talk.”

“Oh!” the first man quirks a brow, “We don’t want to take anything…no offense, maybe a little offense, but your apartment isn’t that ni—”

“Jin, now is not the time.”

“What the fuck is happening?” you yell out, “Who are you two?”

“Right.” The first man says, “Introductions. Should we just say who we are or should we do our little number that you refuse to rehearse?”

“We aren’t singing as our intros, Jin.”

“Why not? So unfair, Tae and Hobi do it.

“They’re a special breed.” The second man releases a long breath, “I’m Namjoon.”

“And I’m Jin.”

“And we’re—”

“The Gods of Time!”

You blink at the two psychopaths in your living room with your mouth wide open. What the fuck?

“How did you two get in here?!” you ask, deciding to ignore their little introduction.

“Walked through the front door.”

“But it’s locked—“”

“No, like literally.” Jin states, “We walked through it. Because we’re you know, Gods.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“Did you just tell a God to shut the fuck up?” Jin grins, “Brave girl.”

“We have an order of business.” Namjoon rolls his eyes at Jin, “We need to talk.”

“We aren’t talking until you tell me how you got in my apartment! And what you fucking want!”

“He told you already,” Namjoon sighs, “We walked through the front door and we want to talk.”

“You walked through? Because you’re Gods? Right, like I’m supposed to believe that.” You huff out and Jin lights up with an idea.

“Here.” He’s suddenly handing you a knife. “Stab me.”

“What the fuck?” You hold the knife in your hand, where did he even get a knife so quickly? “I’m not going to stab you!”

“Just do it!”

“No!”

“Yeah, just do it.” Namjoon encourages you with a tired face.

“No!”

“Come on just a little stabby wabby.” Jin sings, “Come on!”

“Fine!” you stick the knife in Jin’s leg and he starts screaming in agony.

“What the hell!!!! Why would you really stab me?!?!? Oh MY GOD?!!!”

“YOU TOLD ME TO?!?!” you stand up in panic, rushing to his leg and seeing if it’s something serious.

“YOU MANIAC!!!! YOU REALLY STABBED—” then he’s laughing hysterically as Namjoon just claps his hands with an unimpressed face.

“Great performance Jin, but can we get to the point?”

“Performance?” you stutter, “You’re not hurt?”

“No, I’m a God. You think a little human knife can hurt me?”

“Wait, wait, wait! You really are okay? I stabbed you! Oh my god,” you start spiraling, “I stabbed someone.” You whisper. “Oh my god. Are you okay? I am so sorry!”

“Once again, we are God’s.” Namjoon states matter of fact. “Human weapons do not hurt us.”

Your eyes widen in complete shock, you look between the two men and start shaking your head—spiraling even further.

“God’s? God’s of what?” you breathe out. “This is…this is impossible.”

“God’s of time.” Jin snaps his fingers, “and do we have an offer for you.”

“W-What offer?” you plop down on your couch, your face has gone pale. What the hell is happening?

“Your soulmate, Park Jimin…” Namjoon begins. “Committed suicide last night.”

“And full offense girly, but it’s sort of your fault.” Jin chimes in. You feel your entire body go weak again.

“But we want to offer you something. We will roll back time by one month. Giving you the opportunity to make things right and save his life.”

“Turn back time?” you mumble, “That’s impossible.”

You watch as Jin rolls his eyes and with his pointer finger he’s making small circles.

“Turn back time?” You mumble, “That’s impossible.”

Suddenly you’re hit with Déjà vu. “Wait, didn’t I just say that?”

Jin grins and making small circles with his pointer finger again.

“Wait, didn’t I just say that?”

Your eyes go comically wide. “Woah. How did you do that?”

“God’s of Time, it’s literally our specialty.” Namjoon says.

“This girl really don’t listen.” Jin sits down on the couch next to you and you try scooting away.

“Okay…say you really can turn back time…why one month? And why are you giving me this chance?”

“One month because that’s how long it will take to change Jimin’s mind. And because…” Namjoon’s eyes slide to the side…”We were sort of pressured into this.”

“By who?”

Ding Dong

“Great, they’re here.” Jin whines, “I was hoping we would have more time with the human by ourselves.”

“Who’s here?” you start to panic, “Who pressured you?”

“Pressure? That’s not very nice to say.” You hear a new voice and it startles you. “Hi there.” You look up to see two new bodies in your living room. “We are—”

“Great, they’re going to sing.” Namjoon sighs. “On with it then.”

“Taehyung and Hoseok!” They say as melodically as possible, “God’s of Fate!” You swear you can see flowers and hearts and stars surround them.

“And we are not happy with you!” Taehyung dramatically pouts while pointing at you, “We have set up such a nice life for you but you always do the opposite. You really hurt our feelings.” Hoseok smiles a huge ass smile, ultimately confusing you further.

“God’s of fate?” you stand up and shake your head frantically. “What’s happening? What’s happening?”

“If you would have followed our path—the natural path—then you and Jimin would be happily together right now.” Taehyung lightly scolds you.

“But instead…” Hoseok begins, “You did the opposite of what we wanted and now look what happened.” He says with a smile still. “You messed with the natural order of things.”

“You’re saying it’s my fault? That Jimin is…”

“Didn’t I literally say it was your fault?” Jin questions and Namjoon swats his arm. “It’s okay though girly, we are offering you a chance to fix this. You can save his life.”

“He’s right y/n.” Namjoon walks closer to you, “You can save his life.”

You can save Jimin? How is this even possible? Suddenly, you hear faint knocking on your front door.

“Oh man. They’re here.” Taehyung looks towards the door.

“Well, we knew they would show up.”

“Who? Who?” you ask, clearly not ready for more guests.

“May I?” Hoseok gestures towards the door, asking if he can open it. You just shrug at this point.

Hoseok walks to the door and swings it open, revealing two more men.

“Oh if it isn’t mister sunshine and sunshine Junior.” The shorter man says under his breath as he walks past Hoseok and Taehyung. Another man following closely behind.

“We actually like those nicknames.” Taehyung says with a smile. “But yes, what are you doing here?”

“You know why we’re here.” The taller man smirks. “We have a soul we don’t intend on returning.”

“Who the fuck are you two?” you grit out, clearly tired of everyone at this point.

“Yoongi.” The shorter man states like he’s bored.

“And I’m Jungkook.”

“Okay? And?”

“Introduce yourselves properly you fools!” Jin yells out.

“Right right.” Yoongi nods his head subtlety, “God’s of Death.”

Your eyes widen in terror. God’s of Death? “So you kill people? Oh my god…you killed Jimin…”

“Okay, one… we don’t kill people.” Yoongi states and Jungkook jumps in.

“But we do like it when they die.” He says with big doe eyes and Yoongi’s expression changes like the realization has hit him.

“Yes,” he admits. “We do like that.”

“Actually we love it.” Jungkook pipes in again.

“Yes, we do love it.” Yoongi comments nonchalantly.

“And two… Jimin offed himself, we just wait to retrieve his soul.”

“His soul is all we’re interested in.” Jungkook chuckles darkly. “That’s all.”

“Oh? Is that all?” Taehyung mutters underneath his breath.

“Can someone please explain to me what the hell is going on and why you all are in my apartment?”

“Damn girl, you really don’t listen.” Jin puts a hand on his hip.

Namjoon steps closer to you again and pats you on the back, urging you to take a seat.

“Taehyung and Hoseok are the God’s of fate, they want to bring you and Jimin together for your epic love or whatever…Jin and I may owe them a favor. So here we are, the God’s of Time…offering you a chance to turn back time and save Jimin’s life. But the God’s of Death over here…” he gestures towards Yoongi and Jungkook, Jungkook looks at you with a wink, “…don’t want that. They’re here to stop you so they can keep their soul like the soul hungry bastards they are.”

The other 5 men nod their heads in agreement as you look at each of them incredulously.

“And you expect me to believe this?” you wipe your sweaty palms on your pants and sigh out heavily, not believing a word.

“Should you stab me again?” Jin offers with a grin, showing you his little human knife you just stabbed him with earlier.

“What??” Jungkook slumps his shoulders, “Jin got stabbed and I missed it?” Jungkook frowns, “I always miss the good stuff…anyway, I vote you stab him again.”

“No!” you’re quick to yell out. “No more stabbing.”

Jungkook physically deflates once again, clearly disappointed.

“y/n…” Namjoon puts his hand on your shoulder, “Make your decision. Do you want to save Jimin or not?”

Of course you want to save Jimin…you don’t want someone you know dead, like come on. But what does it mean to save him?

“Follow our path.” Taehyung whispers to you, “The natural path.”

“You mean your predestined bullshit?” you spit out and Taehyung and Hoseok frown.

“It’s not bull…” then he whispers, “shit.”

“You can say cuss words sunshine junior.” Yoongi smirks, “come on, say ‘fuck’ just once.”

“No!” Taehyung whines

“Stop trying to make our Taehyungie do bad things!” Hoseok stands in front of Taehyung, defending him.

“I’ll say ‘fuck’.” Jungkook looks around the room raising his hand, offering his foul language.

“You already say it all the time, doesn’t count.” Yoongi rolls his eyes, “Get sunshine junior to say it though and I’ll give you 5 bucks.”

“Come on bro, say ‘fuck’ let me get 5 dollars.” Jungkook begs.

“Human money literally means nothing to us?” Jin questions.

“I still like to collect it.”

“Collecting souls isn’t enough?” Namjoon deadpans.

“I’m a collector, leave me alone.”

“More like a hoarder…” Yoongi cuts in, sighing out.

“Okay!” You stand, “Enough!”

“Finally, someone with some sense.” Namjoon says, “So are you taking us up on our offer? Going to save Jimin’s life?”

“Listen girly, take the offer. Be a hero. Because right now you’re technically the villain.” Jin says matter of fact, his hip poking out as his hand rests on it.

“Or live the life you want. It’s not your fault lover boy offed himself.” Yoongi walks closer to you. “He basically gave his soul for free.”

“You know Jimin was a good person…” Hoseok tells you, “You could feel it.”

You feel yourself grow guilty…this should be a no brainer right? You may not like the idea of soulmates but Jimin doesn’t deserve…this. He deserves to live.

“I’ll do it. I’ll make things right with Jimin, I’ll save his life.” Your firm voices echoes throughout the apartment and Jungkook scoffs.

“You think you can change his mind in a month? He’s set in stone, sweetheart.”

“One…gross, don’t call me sweetheart, and two, I can try.”

“Have fun trying with us by your side.” Yoongi states, a scowl taking over his face.

“She will have us buy her side as well.” Taehyung offers, “We will guide her every step of the way. You can rely on us, rely on fate.”

You roll your eyes, you don’t want any of these guys by your side.

“Is this your final decision?” Namjoon asks, he looks at you with a serious expression and you shudder.

“…Yes.”

“Did you hear that besties? Girl has made her final decision. Shall I do the honors?”

“Yeah, yeah. Go ahead. When you wake up y/n…it will be one month ago yesterday. Are you prepared for that?”

“Will I be aware?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, I’m ready.”

“Remember you have 30 days to make things right.” Namjoon reminds you and you nod your head.

“Okay, here we go!” Jin spins in circles and you all watch him …it’s lasting for several seconds too long, you grow confused. Jin keeps twirling around, doing little curtseys and now he’s doing the fucking robot…until Namjoon stands up.

“For heaven’s sake.” He uses his finger to spin in circles and things start fading to black, time slowly turning backwards.

May 21

It’s morning. You check your phone and it’s around 7am on Friday, May 21st. What the actual hell. It worked? You went back in time, right? This isn’t just some really incredible, elaborate prank right?

“If you’re thinking if this really happened…it did.” You hear Namjoon speak up from across your room.

“And if you’re thinking ‘wow these two super handsome guys really did that?’ we did.” Jin says hovering over you in bed. You can’t help but yelp, still surprised of their presence.

“Why are you guys here still?”

“Oh honey, it’s not just us.” Jin says matter of fact.

“It’s us too!” Hoseok says cheerily.

“Hoseok and Taehyung too?” you question slowly, your eyes scanning the room.

“Please,” Taehyung throws a hand over his heart, “Call us Hobi and Tae.”

“It’s just you four—”

“You really need to go grocery shopping.” Jungkook walks in the room with an apple in his hand, he brings it to his mouth and takes a crunchy bite.

“And as expected of the human world, the TV is trash.” Yoongi walks in after him, throwing your remote on your bed.

“Why the hell is everyone still here?” you yell out, grabbing at your hair. “I thought I was on a solo mission now!”

“Oh baby girl, it’s not just you anymore” Jungkook smirks, taking another obnoxious bite of his apple—your apple.

“Okay, if I didn’t want to be called sweetheart what makes you think baby girl is gonna pass?”

“I don’t know, thought I’d give it a shot.” He shrugs.

“Anyway,” you roll your eyes. “What do you mean it’s not just me?”

“You insist on saving Jimin’s life…we insist on keeping his soul. We have opposing goals here.” Yoongi explains, a bored expression drawn on his face. “We are going to make sure you are not successful. We can only interfere so much though.”

“And we,” Hobi cuts in, “Are here to make sure you are successful. You see, we are here to guide you on your little journey.”

“Think of us as your friends.” Tae grins at you.

“Yeah, I’d rather not.” You deadpan.

“And you two?” You point at Namjoon and Jin. “What is your purpose?”

“To make sure you don’t fuck up, to put it simply.” Jin states. “You do that a lo—Ow!” Namjoon hits Jin in the gut.

“What Jin is trying to say is, we are giving you a total of 3 mess ups. Once you strike through all 3, you’re on your own. We won’t manipulate time any more for a human like you.”

“A human like me?”

“I just mean, a human in general.” He clarifies and you relax.

“Can others see you?” You ask, quite curious. This whole thing is curious actually. You have 6 God’s chilling in your room right now and you are surprisingly chiller than you thought you’d be.

“They will…” Hobi’s eyes slide to the side. “Listen,” he sways on his feet. “We are going to be spending a lot of time together this next month so let’s all get along.” He smiles that big ass smile and you roll your eyes.

“Yes, let’s all get along!” Tae chirps, “Except maybe not with these two.” He points at Yoongi and Jungkook. Jungkook narrows his eyes at Tae and slumps his shoulders.

“I’m gonna get you to say ‘fuck’ sunshine junior, mark my words.”

“Not likely.” Tae narrows his own eyes before he’s spinning on his heels to face you again happily. “y/n.” he sings out, “Our new companion!” Hobi joins in on his song, they both start humming and whistling and suddenly Hobi is rapping. It’s all too much, really.

“Yo yo yo, Jin is in the house too—OW!”

“Anyway,” Namjoon brings a small book from his pocket. “There’s rules. Just a couple.”

“Rules?” you mumble, “What rules?”

“Rule number 1,” Jin starts, “You can’t tell Jimin you’re aware of his suicidal thoughts—this can just have more negative effects. Keep his little secret.”

“And rule number 2,” Namjoon closes the little notebook. “You can’t tell anyone about us.” He gestures towards all 6 of them. “You have to swear on this book.”

“What happens if either of those things happen?” You ask.

“Oh they won’t girl.” Jin shakes his finger at you. “Once you swear on a God’s book…you are bound to secrecy. You will literally not be able to talk about it. Your mouth will physically shut.”

“Jin’s right.” Hobi says, “That’s the law of the God’s promises.”

“And you are promising to us.” Tae adds in.

“That’s just the way it is.” Yoongi comments nonchalantly as he picks at his nails.

“Fine, fine. I get it. I’ll swear on the book.” You get up from bed and walk towards Namjoon, you eye his little notebook and then you look at him incredulously.

“Book of the God’s my ass! You can buy this exact notebook from the dollar store!”

“I like human objects too.” He mumbles shyly, “But it is property of the God’s so…are you going to sign it or not?”

“Do I…do I have to like sign with my blood or some—”

“—Yes.” Jungkook says.

“No, no. Stop that Jungkook,” Namjoon pulls out a pen from his pocket. “Just a regular pen. Also probably from the dollar store you speak of.”

“Okay, I got it…” you grab the pen from him and sign your name to the paper. The notebook starts shining a bright gold, almost blinding you. Then the glow fades and you see your signature in gold letters.

“It is done.” Namjoon says, nodding at the others.

“We are going to be with you as much as possible.” Taehyung smiles at you, “So please take care of us.” He bows his head towards you and you wave him off.

“You guys do realize I still have to work right?”

“Oh,” Namjoon’s eyes slide to the side, “We are prepared for that.”

“How are you prepared for—”

~~~~~

You sit in your little cubicle in complete and utter shock, your jaw literally on the floor.

“And this is our new team of writers, editors, and soundtrack producers. They’ll be working on a new game that is still under wraps.” Your boss gestures towards 6 men. The same fucking 6 men that were just in your apartment. Can you even call them just men? They are God’s!

“Please introduce yourself to the rest of the staff.”

“Right, I am Namjoon in charge of writing along with my partner Jin—”

“Jin is me, yes hi. Call me Worldwide—Hey!” Namjoon swats Jin’s stomach. But Jin recovers quickly, blowing a kiss around the office.

“I’m Tae.” Tae brightly waves at everyone, “In charge of editing scripts. Please take care of me.”

“And I’m Hobi, also in charge of editing! Let’s get along everyone!”

“Yo. Names Yoongi.” He quietly says, waving like a shy child.

“I am Jungkook, I am single and I—”

“They’re in charge of soundtrack production.” Namjoon cuts in. “Nice to meet you all.”

The office starts to quietly applaud, nodding their heads in approval as you sit here with your jaw on the floor. There is no way…absolutely no way this is happening.

“Ah, y/n!” Your boss calls out for you, he’s already walking to your desk. “Namjoon here says you all know each other, so I would like for you to help get them get settled in.” The group of 6 men follow behind him. You look at Namjoon like he is absolutely insane.

“Help them how?” you ask quietly. “Like, show them where the coffee maker is? Oh, look. Its right over there.” You point to the left of you. “You’re welcome.”

“Oh y/n! You’re so funny!” Jin slaps his knee, “I need help with some formatting on the first script I have…apparently you know a thing or two about that.” He grins at you and you roll your eyes.

“Don’t worry…” Hobi begins, his eyes looking around the office. “We won’t just rely on you for help around here…ah! There he is!” Hobi nudges Tae shoulder. “Jimin!” he begins waving the man over.

Jimin looks around the office as if he isn’t the only one with that name. He points at himself and mouths ‘me?’ Hobi and Tae smile widely and nod their heads in unison as they wave him over.

“Yes?” Jimin walks up to you all, his eyes on you…he feels himself grow nervous. “Can I help you?”

“Actually yes.” Tae starts, “Boss man here says you’re an editor just like us, maybe you can show us the ropes.”

“Ah.” Jimin slowly nods his head with his mouth slightly open. “I see.” Then he is nervously looking at you again. “Is that okay? For us all to be working together?” he looks at you while asking this and you scoff.

“I don’t control your life Jimin, do what you want.” You spit out and Jin hits your arm.

“What she means to say is, yes of course we can all work together!” he sings.

You release a long breath, remembering you are on a mission. You muster the fakest smile you can and make eye contact with Jimin.

“Yes, that’s what I meant.” You continue to grin and Jimin scrunches his brows as he slowly nods his head again.

“O...kay…”

Hobi jumps in excitement and repeatedly hits Tae’s arm, like he just got an amazing idea.

“Why don’t we all go out tonight to celebrate?”

“What are we celebrating?” you deadpan but Jin hits your arm again and leans down to whisper in your ear.

“Remember…fate is guiding you. Do as they say.” He says through a tight lip smile.

“Yeah…” you find the energy to say, “Sounds fun…let’s do that.”

You hate this. You are only barely talking to Jimin but you can feel the pull intensify with every word you say to him and every word he speaks to you goes straight to your heart and your fucking vagina.

To call Jimin attractive is an understatement. He is beyond that…he is beyond handsome, beyond cute, beyond gorgeous and beyond sexy. He has a charming way about him, his sharp jawline, his smile with those full, full lips, his eyes. He is effortlessly beautiful…and it drives you absolutely insane.

You remember the first time you saw Jimin…love at first sight? Also an understatement.

He was blonde then. His hair swept across his forehead, you would almost think that was his natural color because it looked that god damn good on him. Now his hair is black and holy hell, it is also his color. But you might think any color is.

“Celebrate how?” Jimin speaks up, his eyes going to Hobi.

“Drinks!” Tae chimes in, “But only one because we all have to work in the morning.” He chuckles and the rest of the boys join in.

“I don’t believe in hangovers.” Jungkook says with his arms crossed over his chest, a smirk gracing his features.

“You literally had one like 3 days ago.” Yoongi comments, “You also said ‘I’m never drinking again’”

“That was a different Jungkook.” Jungkook snaps his fingers, “I’ve matured since then.”

“Yeah, right.” You laugh. “Also you guys realize tomorrow is Saturday…”

You actually laugh and the 7 boys snap their heads towards you and smile. All but Jimin…and kind of Yoongi.

“What?”

“You can laugh!!!” Jin takes your hand and high fives himself with it. “Amazing.”

“And you laughed because of me!” Jungkook cheers. “God, I knew I was fucking hilarious.”

“Chill out, kid.” Yoongi shakes his head.

“Anyway,” you clear your throat. “There’s a bar in the building next to us. We can meet at 7.”

“Actually let’s meet right after work, we can all walk together.” Hobi looks at you knowingly and you roll your eyes.

“Right. Okay, after work then.”

“Sure…” Jimin says slowly, “I will meet you guys here then.” Then he’s taking one last look at you before walking away back to his side of the office.

“Are you guys fucking insane?!” You whisper shout towards the 6 gods. “You work here now?!”

“We have to keep an eye on you and make sure everything goes smoothly…” Tae pouts, he messes with his neck tie nervously. “I even bought these cool human clothes…I thought maybe you would notice.”

“Yeah, yeah. You look nice.” You gesture towards his body and you swear you can see puppy dog ears and tail wagging behind him from how happy he is.

“What about me? What about me?” Jin motions towards his own body as he winks at you.

“You? Fine you look nice too.”

Jungkook slowly walks in the middle of your circle and shows off his outfit to all of you, spinning in a few circles.

“And me baby girl?”

“Call me baby girl one more time and I swear I will kick—”

“Jeez, no need to be aggressive!” Jungkook puts his hands up in surrender. “I’ll take the L for now.”

“Namjoon, please say something as the only person here who is sane.” You turn to face Namjoon and he is looking down at his own outfit.

“Human clothes are so boring.” Is all he says.

You can’t help but groan…then you feel it. Eyes on you. Not just any eyes. His eyes. You follow the feeling until your eyes meet his, he immediately looks away and you feel a sense of guilt. Jimin is going to kill himself? And it’s supposedly your fault? Can you fix this? Can you change his mind? Can you save his life? Can you?

~~~~~

The bar is quiet, well it is only like 5pm. But you assume in the coming hours it will be booming thanks to it being a Friday night. You are seated between Tae and Hobi as they fill your mind with thoughts of Jimin while he is in the bathroom.

“Can’t you just feel how badly he wants to sit next to you? His jealousy that you’re between us?” Tae giggles. “I can’t technically feel his yearning like you can but dudes, it’s so obvious.”

“I get it, I get it.” You groan, “So what’s the plan?”

“Oh that? You are going to ask Jimin out on a date.”

“A d-date?!” you feel the heat rush to your cheeks, “Isn’t that a bit much?”

“Not at all…” Hobi takes a sip of his beer with a fucking straw. “Trust us.”

You’re really about to trust mister sunshine and sunshine junior? They are drinking their beers with straws. Fucking straws.

“ You don’t owe Jimin anything.” You hear Yoongi’s voice from behind you. “You don’t want to be here y/n. Why are you forcing yourself?”

“She just wanted to hang with me.” Jungkook nudges Tae out of his barstool seat and takes it.

“Heeeey…” Tae pouts as he is left standing, watching Jungkook take his chair. “I was sitting there.”

“Say ‘fuck’ and I’ll give it back.”

“You’re mean.”

“Anyway,” you cut them off before they can continue, “Why do you want his soul so bad? Aren’t there more souls out there?”

Yoongi for the first time curls his lips upwards and smirks at you.

“Jimin is a pure soul. It’s worth more. And he gave it for free, his own will. That much more worth it.”

“Pure soul?” You raise a brow, is Jimin really that perfect? You can’t help but scoff.

“He’s a really good person, y/n.” Hobi says softly, “You know you can feel that.”

He’s right. When you first met him and you had that instant recognition, you could feel just how good he is. It hurt even more, considering how things went…

“I have shots!!!!” Jin comes up to you 5 with a tray of shots, “As the kids say, I am trying to get lit!”

“Barely anyone says that anymore dude.” Jungkook frowns, “Which is unfortunate because it… was…lit...”

“Where’s Jimin?” Namjoon asks, grabbing a shot from the tray, he takes a sniff and fake gags.

“Jesus Christ, I told you anything but Tequila, Jin.”

“He’s in the bathroom…” you say, your head falling in your hand on the bar top. You stare at all the bottles on the shelves and wish you could drown yourself in each one.

“I’m back.” Jimin says from beside you and Jungkook.

It looks like he washed his face with cool water, his bangs slightly wet. He’s nervous, you can quite literally feel it…that’s how intense it is.

“Jimin…” you say his name and it sounds and feels so weird on your tongue, his head whips in your direction with wide eyes and he tilts his head to the side.

“Yes?”

You two lock eyes, his gaze is intense. You can’t help but feel like you’re falling for some sort of spell as you stare at him. The pull between you two only grows…you find yourself leaning in closer to his direction before you’re shaking your head, clearing your throat and looking towards the other boys.

“Uh, there’s shots.” You point at the tray Jin is holding. “Let’s hurry up and take them.”

~

A few hours pass and your group is collectively drunk. Jimin seems to be the only somewhat sober one. Even Yoongi is shimmying to whatever song is playing! You look at Namjoon who is smiling at Jin as they talk to one another and you wave them over.

“I thought human things didn’t effect God’s? Why are you all so drunk?” you laugh, slurring your words.

“Alcohol is alcohol baybey!” Jin throws an arm around your neck as he continues to dance.

“Jin is right.” Namjoon points at him, “Alcohol is the same for us.”

You only nod in response as you eye the bar, Hobi and Tae are dancing with Jimin and he actually looks like he is enjoying himself. You stand from your stool and walk to the dance floor and join them, surprising Jimin.

“Came to hang out with the fun go—guys?!” Hobi moves his body expertly as he speaks.

“Just came to talk to Jimin…” you admit shyly and Hobi and Tae nod in understanding with their eyes wide.

“Good idea.” Tae yells out, “We will keep Yoongi and Jungkook distracted.”

“Thanks…”

“You want to talk to me?” Jimin says over the music, “Me?” he points at himself and you chuckle.

“Yes, you.” You reach down to grab his hand and fuck. You feel like you are being shot with electricity. “Uh,” you quickly drop his hand and gesture for him to follow you. “Come on.”

You and Jimin walk outside the bar, the night is a little chilly, even for May.

“What’s up?” Jimin asks nervously, he sways back and forth on his heels and you can feel his anxiety and it’s making you nauseas.

“Go on a date with me.” You blurt out.

Jimin is silent. His eyes harden as he stares at you and he breathes out roughly.

“You’re drunk.” He states.

“Don’t be difficult.” You begin, “Go on a date with—”

“No.”

“No?”

“You think I can’t feel it?” he asks quietly. “How much you…hate me…?”

You automatically get hit with a wave of guilt. He releases a few shaky breaths and continues. “You are forcing yourself…I don’t want to make you more uncomfortable around me.” He gives you a sad, soft smile and turns around to head back inside, leaving you out in the chilly May air.

~

“I thought you guys were fucking gods? I did what you told me and he fucking rejected me?!” you slur out angrily. Tae and Hobi exchange awkward glances before smiling for you.

“You have to put a lot of effort. Remember…you are working hard to change his whole mind. It isn’t going to be easy y/n. Even with us helping. We lead you on the right path but ultimately you humans do have free will.” Hobi says quietly, he looks around the bar to make sure no one can hear.

“And like Jungkook said…at this moment, Jimin is set in stone. It’s going to take some convincing.” Tae finishes. He messes with his neck tie some more before he is loosening it all the way. “And you better hurry to talk to him because he is with Yoongi and Jungkook. Who knows what nonsense they are feeding him!”

You look over your shoulder and Tae is right, Yoongi and Jungkook both have an arm draped over Jimin’s shoulders and chatting away. They both have sly smiles as Jimin nods his head in drunken concentration.

“Help me get rid of them…” you roll your eyes as you begin walking towards the God’s of death and their meal.

“You got it!” Hobi yells out brightly. “Let’s go TaeTae.” He grabs on to Tae’s arm and drags him towards the death gods. You follow closely behind eyeing Jimin carefully.

It’s a lovely spring day, the flowers are in bloom and the sky is blue with splashes of pink now that the sun is beginning to set. You finally found your dream job that you start in 2 weeks and an affordable apartment. It’s not thaaat much nicer than your previous place but still, an upgrade nonetheless.

Today you woke up feeling…different. Fuller, more whole. Something completely unexplainable. Once you stepped outside even the world looked more beautiful, colorful, vibrant. Your chest is warm and buzzing and you can’t help but fall in love with the feeling. What is going on?

You walk the streets in your restless city and you feel it. The pull. The pull is practically dragging you around without you totally realizing. You just walk the streets in a daze, the pull becomes more and more intense the closer you get to the main park downtown. You realize you don’t visit this park often which is such a shame because it is beautiful.

You stroll around, feeling yourself being pulled closer and closer to this gigantic tree in the center and then you feel your insides burst. Your eyes land on a figure, you can only see his back but you just know. He must feel it too because he is quickly turning his body around and facing you. His eyes find yours immediately and holy fuck.

You know him. As soon as your eyes meet you feel like you fucking know him. You feel yourself being drawn to him like there is spell you are both under. You don’t stop your feet from moving as you walk closer and closer. He only stares at you with wide eyes until his thick lips curve up into the most beautiful smile you have ever seen. Little did you know, this would be the only time you will see him smile like this.

Love at first sight? He is the most gorgeous human being you have ever had the pleasure of your eyes landing on. His blond hair swept over his forehead, his piercing eyes, his full lips, his entire figure. His beautiful, beautiful smile. He has charmed you. And it doesn’t help that you feel that instant attraction. That recognition and the intense, intense burst of love you feel.

But it is not your love that you are feeling. It is his. Because you feeling love for a someone you don’t actually know is impossible…that this is just some forced, predestined façade. And you are hit with the reality and the truth. You feel your insides turn from a gooey mess to hard. You feel yourself grow angry, you feel hatred grow within you and it must be intense because Jimin must feel it too. The way his smile drops and how his face goes pale. He takes a hesitant step away from you and looks at you with so much question. He feels how you loathe him.

You continue to look at Jimin as you walk closer and closer to him in the bar, Tae and Hobi pulling Yoongi and Jungkook off his body as you make your way over. Even walking closer and closer to him you feel all of your confusing feelings. You hate him yet you are drawn to him.

“Jimin.” You say his name, it comes out rough and breathless and he pinches his brows together.

“Yes?” he asks softly, he walks closer to you as well. “Is everything okay y/n?”

You swallow down your pride as you stare into his eyes. They look sad…empty even.

“Date…” you murmur. Jimin’s sad, empty eyes flash with a sliver a hope before they turn dark again.

“Why?” he finally asks…he walks just a bit closer to you and you step back, feeling suffocated. If he gets any closer you…

“I want to make things right.” You admit between a few breaths, “I want to get to know you.”

You aren’t lying, you do want to make things right. He doesn’t necessarily know what you mean but that’s okay. “I haven’t been the nicest to you but I want to change that.” You mumble.

“You want to know me?” he gulps, “You want to…spend time with me?” you can feel how nervous he is and you can’t help but chuckle just a bit.

“Coffee? We can start there.” You say, feeling your own nerves spiking. Who knew talking to your fucking soulmate could be this hard.

Jimin bites down on his thick bottom lip, his cheeks warming up as they turn a lovely shade of pink.

“Okay….” He says, trying to hide his growing smile “Coffee.”

[aks3raao1]

Y'all, I finished watching Aggretsuko season 4 and I must say-

THIS WAS SO GOOD WHAT THE HECK-

I WAS NOT EXPECTING THIS MUCH HAIDA CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT OMGGGGGG SBWBDHWJDJWJJE AAAHHHHHH IloveHaidaeventhoughhe'sadumbass,shootme

Haida corruption/redemption arc was smth I never knew I needed...

Also, I have this desperate urge to make Haida x Himuro fanart and to redraw the scenes of them together but make it gayer- BUT I SUCK AT DRAWING MALE CHARACTERS-

Eh, I'll try anyway some time next week maybe- THEN I'LL POST IT HERE!!! But ima make them more human than animal bc that seems easier than drawing dog and wolf faces- (and I just rlly like drawing hair)

Also, yes, I am aware that Haida x Himuro is a toxic ship. But so is soukoku. You can't come at me otherwise y'all r just hypocrites (no hate on soukoku tho, I love that ship snebdhejjde)

I'm kinda disappointed that there's no Haida x Himuro (Shipname(?): Haimuro) works but there's a bunch of Anai x readers on wattpad- SOMEONE GIVE MY SHIP SOME LOVE!!

Me realizing how many toxic ships I have: ...ok, I might have a problem but at least I hate the idea of abusive seme x way-too-forgiving uke

Also, another thing, I DON'T UNDERSTAND WHY PEOPLE DON'T APPRECIATE AGGRETSUKO AS MUCH AS OTHER ANIMES- LIKE, THE CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT IS AMAZING AND EVEN THO IT MAINLY TAKES PLACE IN AN OFFICE, IN AN ACCOUNTING DEPARTMENT, AND IS MOSTLY ON THE TOPIC OF "When will Retsuko get a bf" AND "When will Haida ask Retsuko out", IT'S STILL FUCKING GOOD AND LOW KEY HAS SOME OF THE BEST ANIME MOMENTS SBBEHDJEJJEHEUEJDIWIE

It's a bit slow but I see that as the show taking its time to run the course which is smth most shows lack. It does a good job of spacing everything out and I think each character has their own season if I'm not mistaken (it's been a while since I binged this anime, give me a break) and the relationship dynamics are very realistic, albeit certain moments that are mostly there for comedy reasons. And I love how this anime doesn't make characters monologue in every episode, we get to see more on how they feel and draw the conclusions ourselves. It's also very relatable imo

Also, the characters are all very unique and I absolutely adore how some vibes are first "oml I hate them" and then, once we go through their arc, it becomes "wow, I actually like them". And then the relationships with the character gradually change as well! It sometimes feels like I'm watching Izuku and Katsuki's character development in motion but they start becoming friends a bit quicker

The only real complaints I have is how most of the story was centred around romance and that would be most of the conversation up till season 4. Season 4 and 3 had a decent amount of that but the other seasons felt loaded with it- But I must say, I'm kinda glad that it wasn't the average high school talk thing that usually happens amongst female characters (do some creators REALLY think that's all teenaged girls talk about?). I find it nice how it would sometimes be backed up with reasons (albeit pretty stupid ones).

I would complain abt how I wish some characters were more like Haida in terms of writing (like yk, hinting at their insecurities) but it's not much of a big deal considering the time they took to organise a bunch of these characters- I just think the side characters needed more emotional attention if that makes sense...

And yeah, that's my opinion on this anime-

[ziltoidcoffee]

what's your favorite thing about silverusso as a ship?

Wow, this is so hard to answer. I definitely can't just give one reason. But all of my answers basically come down to their dynamics.

(But I have to preface this with that I know their relationship (fanon or canon) is not healthy. Not all of us like only fluffy and sweet ships, and there's nothing wrong with that. Shaming someone over fictional characters is ridiculous.)

Anyway, I love everything about their relationship. First, there's the teacher x student aspect when they first met, but with the twist that Terry never intended to actually teach him. Yet Daniel trusts him and wants to learn from him so desperately. The way Daniel reacts when Terry praises or approves what he does is so delicious. Daniel clearly enjoys having a mentor (see Mr. Miyagi), but Terry is nothing like him, especially with how he treats Daniel. Terry is purposefully hurting him and making Daniel think he's a bad fighter unless he does what Terry wants,. It's a guiding hand with evil intentions, and it's just so intriguing.

Plus, that guiding hand is literal. They touch sooo much in KK3 while Terry is training him, and both actors had so much chemistry together, even in their small scenes together in CK. The way Terry got in his face while they were arguing in the convenience store. Just so much sexual tension. And while I'm annoyed they haven't fought yet, the fact that they haven't makes their relationship all that more interesting. Look at how Terry fought with Johnny and trained Robby. He didn't even seem all that interested vs the way he just spoke to Daniel. (I think the producers low key know how homoerotic KK3 was and kind of keep them apart. That's my two cents anyway. But hey, I could be wrong.) I just really hope they do eventually fight. We know it will be so explosive.

Daniel was so shaken and angry when Terry showed up. Not many other characters have had this affect on him. Johnny has in some ways, but he keeps on forgiving him and trying to work with him. Not sure I could do that to someone who threw me off a cliff (hill?). And then Terry's reaction after Kreese mentioned Daniel and when Daniel wouldn't forgive him. Fucking pretty emotional if you ask me. Go ahead and blame it on comedy though.

There's no hiding how alike they are too, but we know neither would admit it. They have similar interests, are both passionate people, and no one else in CK or KK are as spiteful and revenge-seeking as they are. (lmao maybe Robby) And they both think their way is right. They can't be wrong! Yet Terry is conniving and manipulative while Daniel is inspiring and brave. Totally big bad and hero vibes. And that dynamic is always spicy.

Then there's the fact that they look so God damn good together. TIG is a handsome, tall pale giant while Ralph is a tan, petite lil twink. 😂 Their height differences is so hot, and the fact that they're the same age irl is crazy. We also got lucky as fans because they're both amazing actors who are so underrated. Especially Ralph. The way he's able to act like the exact same character 30+ years later is crazy.

I'm sorry I ranted a while, anon. But that's some of my thoughts. Hopefully, what I'm saying makes sense. I wanna hear why ya'll like them. 💙

[lofitojii]

REACTION: I Think I Love You

Summary: You just told him how you felt after holding back feelings for what seemed like an eternity. This is how it went.

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A/N: Soooo I have these feelings for a friend that I didn’t think were real and after I finally sat down and thought about it, turns out this shit real. Here’s another imagine for ya based on the things i’m feeling lol. enjoy xx

ﾟ.:｡+ﾟ.:♡ﾟ.:｡+ﾟ.:｡♡ﾟ.:｡+ﾟ.:｡♡ﾟ.:｡+ﾟ.

Hawks:

You had been friends since your training days, he was quite literally your number one everything; friend, support, hero. You went to him for everything, anywhere between personal issues, relationship problems, all the way to the little things like what sweater to order from your favorite artist. The time came where you could no longer hold back your feelings, you had to tell him. The night you decided to express yourself was a night that you had already made plans to watch movies and play video games at your house. It was normal, so you knew you would feel comfortable finally telling him how you felt, knowing that if he rejected you, you’d still be okay. You knew he loved you for who you were, and if he doesn’t feel the same, you could at least thank the universe for bringing you two together. 

“Keigo,” you started, fiddling with the controller in your hands. Your palms were sweaty, mainly from gaming for so long but also from how nervous you were. “I gotta tell you something.” 

“What’s up?” He asked, giving you his full attention. You had fallen in love with those eyes, the way they were so soft and gentle when he interacted with you. His expression was innocent, completely ready for whatever it was you had to tell him.  

“Fuck…” you cursed, trying to spit it all out. It felt as if you were visibly choking on your own words. 

“Well come one now, spit it out! The anticipation is killing me!”

“I don’t want this to ruin anything…” You started, hoping he would catch the hint at where this conversation was going. 

“Nothing can ruin anything if you really think about it.” 

“What?” That was actually the most confusing statement that could be made right now. 

“I mean, like nothing can be ruined if I don’t let it be ruined, ya know? To be honest, you can’t ruin anything for me. Unless you’re about to tell me what happened in the new Attack on Titan chapter, then I might actually have to commit a crime.” You rolled your eyes at his statement, taking the opportunity to just kiss him instead of telling him how you felt. This way you were able to get your point across without actually having to tell him. 

You pulled away, your cheeks hot to the touch, Keigo’s mirroring your own actions. “Wow,” he breathed, placing his fingers to his lips. You pulled your own bottom lip in between your teeth, biting down so you could numb your nervous feelings. 

Keigo reacted before speaking, pulling your head again, his lips caressing yours. When he pulled away, he placed small kisses on your cheeks, noise, lips again. “I’ve felt this way for a very long time so thank god you kissed me first.” 

Dabi:

He was unreadable most of the time, and honestly it’s been quite the mission to get him to open up to you. It’s been years since you first met him and within those years, you had slowly broken down the walls he had built so high around his heart. You felt like you were closer to him than any other friend he had, which in itself was a personal accomplishment. The only trial left was to express to him how you’ve felt all these years. You saw a side of Dabi that he refused to share with others, a side you found beautiful. The night you told him, you hadn’t really planned on it panning out the way it did. It was just you two, walking home from a bar together, drunk, clumsy, emotional. 

“Dabi,” you slurred, resting a hand on his shoulder. “You’re amazing, you know that?” 

“Shut up,” he laughed, wrapping his arm around your waist. “No other person in the world will compare to you when it comes to being drinking buddies. You’re amazing!” 

“I think I love you,” you blurted out, only after realizing what you had said. “Emphasis on think,” you tried to save yourself, but you knew you were already too far deep, there was no going back. 

“Well I know I love you,” he responded, stopping in his tracks. You looked up to see he was already looking down at you, his smile visible due to the illuminating street lamps. “I literally hate everyone. You’re the only person I’ve ever felt comfortable opening up to. I’m surprised you were the person to admit it though. You hate confronting your feelings.” 

“So do you! If I didn’t do it, who knows how long we would’ve held back.” 

“Probably forever.” He leaned down, pressing his lips to yours. You could feel his chapped lips intertwine with yours, the kiss feeling like everything you had imagined it to be; warm, comforting, exciting. “I’ve been loving you.” 

Bakugou:

You would say you and Bakugou are friends, despite the fact he refuses to admit he’s friends with anyone. You were the one person he honestly enjoyed hanging out with, even though he would never tell you that to your face. You were always the first person he would call when he wanted to do something or to just talk. He also would yell about how stupid everything was in front of you, immidatly shutting down if someone else were to walk in. No one understood that about him, they all thought he was just angry and yelling for no reason. But there was a reason and you were the person Bakugou had chosen to express himself to, even if it didn’t make sense. When you had decided to tell him how you felt, it was something that you had to force out of yourself due to the fact you had grown distant, trying to avoid your feelings. 

“You owe me an explanation. You’ve been quiet and distant and you have me fucking worried. What the fuck is wrong?” He bursted out, confronting the uneasy feelings in front of you. 

“I can’t.” 

“Like hell you can’t! Why is it that when I’m having trouble, you force me to tell you but the minute you have something to say, you shut the hell up! It’s not fair Y/N!” 

“Want to know what’s not fair?” You finally spat, choking on threatening tears. “The fact that every day, I watch from afar and see that the man I’m in love with completely ignores the feelings I have for him! I know you know and you haven’t done shit about it! That’s why I decided to stay quiet! I can’t take rejection from you because I know it’s going to fucking hurt!” Your breathing became uneven, the tears you had so desperately wanted to hold back finally exposing themselves. “You’re a piece of work Bakugou. I can’t fucking stand you sometimes.” 

“Then come here.” He yanked at your arm, embarrassing you into his chest. He rested his head on top of yours, letting out a deep exhale before pulling away to look at you. “I know you feel this way because I feel this way too. I don’t know how to express feelings like that so I just waited until you did. When you shut down and stopped coming around, I knew something was up.”

You pressed your head against his chest, hiding your tears from the man standing in front of you. “Why do we have to be so difficult?” He placed his hand under your chin, lifting your head so you were looking into his eyes. He swiped his thumb across your cheek, catching a tear before it had a chance to fall. 

“You’re difficult as hell. Super moody, bossy, sometimes bitchy. But I love those things about you.” He pressed his lips to yours, the taste of salt lingering from your tears. “You taste like salt.” 

“Shut the hell up.”

[redgillan]

Under Pastel Skies - 9

Sugar daddy!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Modern!AU Bucky doesn’t need anyone, especially not a sugar baby. He isn’t that desperate… but she smiles so sweetly and she’s endearingly awkward, and he’s so lonely. She’s an artist, a painter, the type of person who always puts others before herself. Throwing caution to the wind Bucky offers her a place to live, a place where she can finally paint whatever her heart desires. He doesn’t need much in return; a friend, a muse.

Word Count: 6,257

Warnings: mention of accident, mention of blood

A/N: I’m sorry this took longer than usual but it’s pretty long so yay! I hope you’ll like this chapter. We’re slowly getting there :’) Thank you for the feedback, I truly appreciate all of you! Also 1 marvel quote and several Bob Ross quotes that I obv don’t own.

Wannabe sugar daddies don’t interact, idc if you have money, eat it and leave me be.

Good luck on your interview xx

Bucky had just hit ‘send’ when Sam cleared his throat noisily, drawing Bucky’s attention away from his phone. His friends were frowning crossly at him, their glasses raised in a silent toast. He set his phone face-down on the table and picked up his glass.

“Sorry, you were saying?”

Sam shot Steve a ‘see?’ look and Steve replied with a shrug and a little smile. They looked like two sassy grandmothers judging their only grandson. Bucky checked his phone again, and out of his peripheral vision, he could see his grandmothers share another look.

“What?” he barked, annoyed.

“Nothin,” they both answered at the same time before they took a synchronized sip of orange juice.

Smacking his lips together, Sam opened the menu and began to skim through the choices. A waiter suddenly came out of nowhere to take their order. Bucky ordered a cranberry rosemary scone, smoked bacon, an eggplant sandwich, and a plate of lemon-ricotta pancakes.

“Excuse-me,” Sam called out to the waiter. “Could you make his pancakes in the shape of an angel?” he asked, ignoring Bucky who was openly glaring at him.

The waiter, albeit a little surprised, kept a smile on his face. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Bucky told him, handing him the menu. “Thank you.”

Without another look to his friends, he grabbed his phone and checked his messages for the third time in less than two minutes. Steve snatched his phone up and sat back in his seat, waving the phone at Bucky.

“Enough! Live in the moment.” He pocketed the phone and gave Bucky a pointed stare. “You’ll get it back later.”

“What the hell? You’re not my father, give it back!” Bucky snapped, extending his hand, the palm facing up. Steve shook his head. “Give it back, you fucking meatball.”

He got up and tried to reach inside Steve’s pocket for his phone but Steve kept shifting in his seat. They wrestled like that for a minute while Sam watched them, eating a breadstick and looking mildly entertained.

“Okay, fine,” Bucky panted, pushing himself away from Steve. “You leave me no choice, Rogers.” He cleared his throat like an actor about to jump on stage. “Give me back my phone, Steve!” he said, raising his voice. “Do you enjoy stealing from disabled people?”

He nearly shouted the last two words, and to Steve’s horror, the buzz of conversation around them had died. He could feel people staring at him. Cursing softly under his breath, he reached into his pocket and dropped the phone into Bucky’s awaiting hand.

“It’s okay, we’re friends,” Steve said to the people sitting behind him. They looked at him with a disapproving glare. “Jesus, Bucky, you’re making me look like an asshole.”

An amused expression crossed Bucky’s face as he sat back in his seat. “Don’t touch my stuff.”

It was quiet while he checked his messages. Slowly, those around them returned to their own conversations. Sam pointed his half-eaten breadstick at Steve.

“Do you think the waiter will spit in your omelette?” he said the last word with an exaggerated French accent. Steve glared at him.

Their waiter arrived a moment later carrying a large tray with their brunch. Steve poked at his omelet with a suspicious frown, then looked over at Bucky who was still on his phone. Sam stole a slice of bacon from Bucky’s plate and gave it to Steve.

“I hear you’ve got a date tonight,” Sam said, making conversation.

“Yeah,” Steve chuckled, embarrassed. “It’s not a big deal. I’m just looking for something casual. I’m leaving in two days.”

“Where’re you going this time?”

“South Africa,” Steve replied, stealing another slice of bacon. “What about you? What’s that big emergency?”

Sam glanced at Bucky who was grinning like an idiot at his phone. “Not now. Let’s eat first.” He took the plate of bacon, took what he wanted then handed it to Steve. “Want another?”

Steve kept looking over at Bucky while they finished his bacon but Bucky didn’t seem to acknowledge their presence. He was in his own little bubble.

“It’s like we don’t even exist,” Steve remarked out loud.

“I know, it’s amazing. Look!” Sam straightened up in his seat and cleared his throat. “Bucky Barnes is the biggest idiot on the planet, and he can eat my farts.” Bucky was hunched over his phone, his thumb typing away. “See?”

“Impressive.”

“That’s the angel effect,” Sam said.

With a happy little sigh, Bucky pocketed his phone and turned his attention to his friends. He frowned at the amused look they shared.

“What are you guys talking about?”

“Steve’s first date in two years.” Sam turned to Steve. “You must be nervous.”

“Strangely, no.” Steve broke off a small piece of omelet with his fork. “I actually know him. He’s an old friend from college.”

“Nice,” Sam said.

“He’s a fashion photographer now.”

“Wait, what?” Bucky’s brows pinched in confusion as he stared at Steve.

Undeterred, Steve continued. “We’ve been facetiming a lot lately.” He shot Bucky a glance. “Why do you think I go to bed at 8?”

“But I thought-”

“You thought I had a date with your girl,” Steve said with a warm smile. “Listen, man, I like her. She’s cute, funny, talented. She’s a real sweetheart. But I like her because she brought back that light in your eyes. You look happy. That’s all I ever wanted for you. You had to go through so much crap, Buck. You deserve this.”

Bucky looked down at his pancakes, feeling tears pool in his eyes. He blinked them back and sniffed quietly. “So you were never going to ask her out.”

“I was until you called her ‘angel’,” Steve replied with a shrug. “You kept saying you were okay with this but, I mean, I’m not that dense.”

“Why do you keep going out with her then?” Bucky grumbled.

“Jeez, Mother Gothel, I didn’t know Rapunzel wasn’t allowed to leave the tower,” Steve exclaimed. “We were bored. You’re in your office all day. It was fun to mess with you though. You’re a grumpy Gus when you’re jealous.”

“I wasn’t jealous, okay. I was annoyed. There’s a difference.”

“Uh-huh.”

Bucky looked over at Sam who had been strangely quiet throughout this whole exchange. He loved teasing Bucky, and he always had something to say about Bucky’s love life. Sam wasn’t looking at Bucky, he just pushed his food around with his fork, his lips pinched shut. He met Bucky’s eyes, then lowered his head again.

Bucky had a feeling something bad was about to happen.

“What’s the big emergency?” he asked quietly, afraid of the answer.

Sam set his fork down beside his plate and leaned back against his chair with a sigh. He trained his gaze on the front door, seemingly deep in thought.

“I’m moving to D.C.” He paused to let the information sink in. “They’re transferring me to the D.C. office. I’m their new chief financial officer.”

“Congrats, man!” Steve exclaimed. “You deserve it.”

“Yeah,” Sam replied with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “That’s what I’ve always wanted.”

“So why the long face?”

“I’m a little anxious to leave New York. What will Barnes do without me? Without his mentor? Without someone to look up to?”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “I think I’ll be all right.” He hesitated before he asked, “Did you tell her?”

“Tell who?” Steve inquired, polishing off the last of his omelet.

Bucky felt the wave of long-held sadness his Sam’s eyes. “I’ll tell her tonight.”

“Can someone tell me what’s going on?”

Sam and Bucky shared a look. They weren’t sure how Steve would react.

The word sugar daddy held a pejorative connotation. Every single one of those relationships featured a powerful, rich man and a poor, vulnerable man or woman. There was a clear power imbalance here that never appealed to Bucky, and he was pretty sure it never appealed to Sam either.

Whether it was a no-strings-attached service or an emotional service, it was still a hole in your resume. One that would be hard to explain to your future employers. He was afraid people would call you names, treat you differently or harass you if they knew.

He often wondered if he had unintentionally ruined your life.

Deep down he knew Steve would never call you a whore or treat you differently but he was still trying to protect your reputation. He believed that Sam had Natasha’s best interest at heart too.

Sam told Steve everything. He remembered the day he had met Natasha, their instant chemistry, the subtle flirting, the arrangement, their first night out, their first kiss, their first time together, their new arrangement. Steve listened attentively. When Sam told him that you were Natasha’s best friend, Bucky interrupted him and told his own story.

“Wow,” Steve deadpanned, leaning forward to take one of Sam’s poached egg and avocado toast. Sam slapped his hand away. “Is that a thing now? Sugar daddies, I mean?”

“Is that all you have to say?”

“Yeah.” Steve sipped his mimosa with a bored look on his face. “You’re both not ready for the real conversation, so I’m just making small talk.”

Sam and Bucky exchanged confused looks. “What real conversation?”

“Sam, you just got an amazing promotion, you’re going to be the Prince of D.C. and you’re sitting here like someone kicked your puppy,” Steve replied, then turned to Bucky. “And you, well... I’ve been living with you for the past two weeks and you’ve gone all Alpha male on me, Buck. Cut the shit. You’re both in love with your sugar babies. Companions, or whatever the fuck you want to call them.”

Sam and Bucky sat in silence with their heads hung low. Steve opened his arms wide like a lawyer in a bad TV show saying ‘I rest my case’.  When he spoke again, his voice was soft.

“Look, as maybe the world's leading authority on waiting too long, don't,” he said. “What’s the worst that could happen, um?”

It made Bucky think. Best-case scenario, you loved him too and life was a breeze for the next fifty years. Bad-case scenario, you didn’t share his feelings. Worst-case scenario, you shared his feelings but couldn’t make the transition from sugar baby to girlfriend.

Yeah, worst-case scenario sucked...

He came home around three in the afternoon, and smiled when he saw your shoes and coat. Knowing you were home always put him in a good mood, but his heart was heavy. He felt conflicted. He didn’t know if it was better to tell you how he felt now or to just keep living in this little bubble with you until it’d inevitably burst.

And to make things worse, Sam was going to end his contract with Natasha tonight. He made Bucky promise not to tell you about it. Bucky felt sorry for Natasha, he wondered if she had feelings for Sam. He wondered if she had a backup plan.

He found you in your studio, sitting on the floor, huddled against the wall, with one knee drawn up to your chest and your arms loosely wrapped around your leg. You were staring at the painting you’d just made, the still wet paint glistened under the artificial lights.

This painting was different from your usual landscapes and occasional portraits. There were various shades of blue and grey intertwined, and five big splotches of dark red paint layered on top of the canvas.

Bucky knew just by looking at you that something was wrong. You looked defeated, sad, upset. He reasoned that your interview didn’t go as planned. Quietly, he stepped into the room and sat down on the floor next to you, his left shoulder brushing your own.

“I just got home,” he said.

“Where’s Steve?”

“He said he had some errands to run. He’ll be back later.”

You nodded, still staring straight ahead. “Okay. I bet you can’t wait to have some time to yourself. I asked Natasha if I could stay with her, but she’s going out with Sam tonight. I’ll stay in my room, I won’t bother you.”

Bucky felt his heart drop, his breath caught in his throat. He had made the woman he loved feel unwelcome. God, he wanted to kick his own ass.

“I’m so sorry,” he said, tilting his head to look at you but you were stubborn and refused to meet his eye. “I thought you were going out with Steve and I- I didn’t want you to feel like you had to stay with me.”

“I’m not interested in Steve. I told you that.”

“I know.” He moved so that he could see your face. “I’m sorry for the way I treated you, and for the way I treated Steve. It won’t happen again. I promise. Can you forgive me?”

“Of course, Bucky,” you huffed.

He saw your chin quiver slightly and your eyes glaze over with unshed tears. You looked utterly broken. He reached up and wiped a stray tear from your cheek.

“Sorry, I had a difficult day,” you said.

His palm cupped the side of your face, his thumb stroking a caress across your cheek. You met his eyes for the first time and he smiled softly at you.

“My angel.”

His words made you cry even harder, silent tears streaming down your cheeks. With his hand still cupping the side of your face, he leaned closer and pressed his lips against your other cheek. You closed your eyes and basked in his affection.

He could feel the warmth of your tears, could taste the salt on his lips as they streamed down your cheek to his mouth. Slowly, he pulled back and looked at you, a smile forming on his lips when he saw a fleck of dried blue paint above your eyebrows.

“Painter Smurf,” he teased, wiping it off. You let out a huff of air that sounded like a laugh. “I’m here for you, angel, whatever you need.” He pulled you against his side and you rested your head on his chest.

“My interview didn’t go very well,” you said after a long moment of silence. “She said that I’m really talented, that my technique is perfect. But my work is too figurative. It’s not what she’s looking for.” You paused to wipe your nose on your sleeve. “It’s just- It wasn’t my first meeting. They all tell me the same thing: I’m not good enough.”

“That’s not true,” Bucky said, kissing your hair. “Your work is unique. It’s raw and beautiful. If they can’t see that then they’re morons.”

“She told me that if I had been a white man in the nineteenth century, people would still talk about me today.” You sighed. “I don’t know, Bucky. Maybe I should work on something more abstract.”

Bucky tilted his head to one side as he looked at your painting. “Is that why you painted this?”

“Mhhh,” you hummed. “She told me to play with the textures, the forms, the lines, the colours. Suggest rather than show. Let the painting tell its own story.”

“Yeah, I think you did it.”

“You think it’s good?”

“I don’t think those adjectives apply here. Not with modern art. It’s in the eye of the beholder,” he said, running his fingers along your shoulder. “Abstract art isn’t supposed to be beautiful, it’s supposed to make you feel something, right?”

“How does it make you feel?”

“Unsettled, sad.”

You straightened up and sat shoulder to shoulder. “My brother died in a hit-and-run.” You let the information sink in for a minute. “I was with Okoye, we got a call from our mom but by the time we got to the hospital, he was already dead.”

Your voice was surprisingly calm and controlled. Bucky wanted to reach out to you but he was unable to move. He listened attentively, his heart squeezing painfully in his chest.

“He was wearing some kind of compression shirt, grey-blue with two white stripes, and it was covered in blood. When I close my eyes and think of that day, all I remember is that shirt and the blood.” You tilted your head and gave him a little smile. “That’s what I painted.”

Bucky didn’t know what to say. He just sat there, opening and closing his mouth like a fish out of water. He couldn’t think of anything to say.

“Sorry,” you let out a small laugh. “I had a shitty meeting and then I came home and basically relived one of the worst days of my life to put it on a canvas. Now it’s staring at me and all I want is to shred it to pieces.”

Bucky noticed that your hand was close to one of your palette knives. Your fingers brushed against the handle, debating whether you should pick it up and slash the canvas. He laid his hand on top of yours.

“It won’t help,” he said. “Trust me. I can put the painting somewhere else if you want. You won’t have to look at it again. I promise.”

“Yes, please.”

“C’mon, beautiful, let’s go downstairs. I know someone who can help you.” He got to his feet and extended his hand to you. You frowned up at him, a silent question in your eyes. “His name is Bob and he paints happy little trees.”

A bright, wide smile spread until it lit up your whole face, and Bucky’s heart melted at the sight. He grinned at you and pulled you to your feet.

“I love Bob Ross,” you said, and Bucky gave your hand a little squeeze.

In the living room, you sat down on the sofa, crossing your legs under you and grabbed a blanket while Bucky connected his YouTube account to the TV. He sat down beside you, propping his feet up on the coffee table and adjusting the blanket in his lap.

“Hi, welcome back. Certainly glad you could join me today.” The show started and you melted against Bucky’s chest, pulling the blanket up to your neck. “Thought today we could do a fantastic little painting-”

You were pressed against his bad side, but Bucky didn’t mind. As the show progressed, you slid further into his lap until your head rested on the armrest of the sofa, close to Bucky’s right hand.

“People know when you’re happy. They can look at your paintings and tell how you were happy. They reflect your moods. Paintings are a reflection of your innermost feelings.”

He gave your head a little massage while you both watched Bob Ross create a stunning lake view painting.

“Cuz in your world, you can create any kind of illusion that you want. I spent half my life in the military, and I had to live in somebody else’s world all the time. Painting offered me freedom, I’d come home after all day of playing soldier and I could paint the kind of world that I wanted. It was clean, it was sparkling, shiny, beautiful-”

You shifted a little, and Bucky wondered if those words resonated with what you had been through. Being adopted, losing a brother, taking care of your sick mother when your siblings left, graduating, making ends meet... Those experiences had shaped you into the woman you would be for the rest of your life. A kind and strong woman who never really got to live or enjoy life.

He understood how important painting was to you. He was an artist too. He wasn’t a painter, but writing offered him a kind of freedom he had lost a long time ago.

“We should paint along,” you said, tilting your head up to look at him. “Then I’ll sell yours. I bet people would pay a lot of money to own an original Grant Thomas painting.”

Bucky chuckled. He knew you were teasing him, the slight curl of your lips said as much. “I’ll sign it James Barnes. It’ll be worthless.”

“It’s not worthless to me,” you said.

“Would you hang it in your room?”

“Absolutely.”

“Then, okay, I’ll paint along with you.”

When the episode ended, you decided to eat dinner first and paint later. You were sitting at the kitchen island, eating a bowl of leftover pasta from the night before, when Steve came home.

“Hey guys,” he greeted, throwing a plastic bag on the kitchen island before he made his way to his bedroom.

“I’m so fucking late. I still need to take a shower and get dressed.” Steve came out of his room, shirtless, and working his belt buckle open. “Hey, Buck, can I borrow some clothes?”

“I swear to fuckin’ God, Rogers, if you undress in the middle of the kitchen I’ll make you eat your jeans.”

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

He rushed to the bathroom and closed the door behind him. A minute later, Bucky heard the shower running.

Later, you went upstairs to gather canvases, paint brushes and paint while Bucky helped Steve pick out an outfit.

Steve was too excited about his date to remind Bucky that he was an idiot, and Bucky was happy that for once they didn’t talk about his feelings for you. He teased Steve and watched as Steve squirmed, the tip of his ears bright red. Just like old times.

Then they met you downstairs where you had two easels set up in front of the television. Steve stood in front of you, visibly nervous and agitated, while you looked at him from head to toe.

“How do I look?”

“Like you’re wearing clothes two sizes too small for you, which makes you look even bigger than you normally are so... pretty good.”

“Yeah?”

You chuckled. “You look great, Steve.”

Steve responded with a relieved sigh and a little bashful smile. Bucky liked that look on Steve, it reminded him of their childhood when Steve awkwardly flirted his way through Brooklyn.

Bucky jerked back to the present when Steve turned to him for confirmation. He gave him a firm nod and a thumbs-up, then walked him to the kitchen. They talked about Steve’s plans for the night while Steve gathered up his things.

Bucky was walking back to the living room when Steve called out his name and threw something to him. Bucky caught it in mid-air, then looked down at his hand. A shiny looking condom wrapper was nestled in the palm of his hand. He scowled at Steve.

“Just in case,” Steve said with a shit-eating grin.

“You’re a dead man.”

Steve’s laughter echoed down the corridor as he left the apartment.

Blowing out a breath, Bucky pocketed the foil packet and joined you in the living room. You were sitting at your easel, blobs of paint arranged in a semicircle on a palette. There was another easel next to yours, with a palette resting on a stool to make things easier for him.

You selected the lake view episode you had watched earlier, thinking that it would make things easier. Bucky was in awe of you, you made painting look so effortless and beautiful. You added your own trees and clouds, shifting things around to create your own world.

Bucky followed Bob Ross’ instructions closely but, in his opinion, it looked like someone had made it with their feet. You laughed at his comment and told him that you would still hang it in your room. It boosted his ego a bit.

When you both finished your painting, Bucky looked up at the clock. It was close to midnight which made him do a double take.

“Time for me to hit the hay,” he said, yawning. “This is as good as it’s gonna get.”

“Mhh,” you mused, turning the TV off.

“You okay?”

You shrugged. “Yeah, I- uh, I was kind of hoping we’d do this all night,” you said, playing with a mostly dried paintbrush. You looked at him from under your lashes. “But it’s fine. I understand, you’re tired. I think I’ll wait for Steve.”

Bucky looked at you with a pained expression. He could tell something was bothering you. He placed his index finger under your chin and tilted your head up. “Angel, I don’t think Steve is coming home tonight.” You pinched your lips together and nodded. “Talk to me. I want to help.”

“I don’t want to be alone tonight.”

Your words hit him like a punch in the chest, leaving him momentarily breathless. He pulled you close and pressed a long kiss to your forehead. You clung to him for dear life, your warmth and familiar scent made his heart ache.

“It’s okay,” he mumbled against your skin, then pulled back a little so he could look you in the eye. “Let’s change into something more comfortable, um? Then we’ll catch some shut-eye. I have an idea, the first person to fall asleep has to make breakfast tomorrow.”

“You sure?”

“You’re right. I’m exhausted, I’ll fall asleep first,” he said, shaking his head. “New rule, last person to fall asleep has to make breakfast.”

You snorted. “No, I meant... are we going to sleep in the same bed?”

“I promise I’ll stay on my side. But if it makes you uncomfortable, there’s a bunk bed in Steve’s room.”

“No, it’s fine. I want to wash my face first. I’ll see you in a minute.”

Bucky tried to play it cool but his heart was pounding. He kept seeing flashes of his dreams in his mind: skin against skin, steady puffs of air brushing against his skin, the smell of sweat and something uniquely you surrounding him.

He was absolutely terrified.

He went upstairs, took a quick shower, brushed his teeth and changed into his pyjamas. His night-time regimen took longer than he had anticipated so he wasn’t surprised when he found you sitting cross-legged on his bed, scrolling through your phone, looking so calm and peaceful.

You were wearing your pyjama bottoms and a fluffy sweatshirt stained with blue paint and tomato soup. He felt his stomach flip when you raised your head and smiled at him. A chill ran through his spine, and made the hairs on his arm stand on end. He’d never seen you look more beautiful.

“Hey,” you said, placing your phone on the nightstand. “Which side of the bed do you sleep on?”

“The side you’re sitting on.” You rolled to the other side of the bed and slid under the covers making him laugh. “You didn’t have to move.”

“It’s fine. I prefer this side.” You looked around the room. “I like your room. It’s very you.”

“Ah?”

“Yeah, neat, organized, lots of books, a cosy armchair, stormy blue comforter. It looks intimidating but it’s actually really soft. Like you.”

He suppressed a laugh. “Thanks.”

Bucky climbed into bed beside you, turned off the light and drew the blanket over him trying to get warm. He lay on his back looking up at the ceiling. He was so stiff and nervous, he forced himself to breathe normally. You turned onto your side and slid one of your hands under your pillow.

“Do you usually read before you go to sleep?” you whispered, afraid to disturb the silence.

“Yes,” he whispered back. “Do you?”

“Sometimes.” There was a moment’s silence before you spoke again. “I’ve started reading your book.”

“Oh, Christ,” he let out a small laugh and turned his head to look at you, his eyes adjusting to the darkness. “I hope I didn’t traumatize you.”

“You have a very dark sense of humour,” you said. “But I already knew that.”

“I’ve always had a dark sense of humor, but trust me, when I lost my arm I wasn’t in the mood for jokes. Therapy helped a lot. Besides, laughing is good for your health, right? My books are very personal, I don’t censor myself.”

“I know. I wasn’t expecting it to be so honest.” You shifted a little and looked away from him. “I don’t know if I’ll finish it, I feel like I’m intruding.”

“I understand.” He shifted slightly so he was lying on his left side, facing you. “I wrote it like a diary. Talking isn’t my strong suit. I don’t know, I think I’m trying too hard and I just end up being rude or not making sense. When I write, I take my time, I find the right words. It’s easier when I don’t have to look anyone in the eye.”

He knew his book was a little rough. He focused on his depression, his rehabilitation, relearning basically everything. He talked about rediscovering his body, intimately. He talked about his friends, his family, strangers, therapy, dating.

“Can I ask you a very personal question?”

“Of course.”

“Have you ever been in love?”

He swallowed hard, his throat raw and tight. “Yes.” In fact, he was in love right now. “Once. I don’t trust easily.”

“I know I read what happened between you and your girlfriend.”

She had been his first girlfriend since the accident. She was kind, patient, a little over excited but he found it cute. In a way, she reminded him of himself before the accident. She wasn’t afraid to touch him, and God, he needed to be touched.

Sam had witnessed little things that irked him but Bucky had ignored him, refusing to see the warning signs. He wanted to be happy again. But then he couldn’t bury his head in the sand anymore.

She treated him like a child in front of their friends, and her friends praised her for taking such good care of a man like him. A man who, in their mind, was high maintenance. She cut his meat for him even though he was perfectly capable of doing it himself. She helped him dress, tied his shoes, zipped up his coat, etc... He felt infantilized, humiliated.

He didn’t think she was a bad person though. It was just her personality.

“How’s Natasha?” he asked suddenly.

A puff of air caressed his face as you snorted out a laugh. “Why do you ask? You don’t like her.”

“I like her a lot,” he argued. “She seems wary of me, which I understand, but she’s great.”

“Yeah, she is.” You considered his words. “She’s doing well. She went on work date with Sam.”

Despite his promise to Sam, he couldn’t bear the thought of keeping things from you. “I have to tell you something about Sam and Nat.” You waited for him to continue. “Sam got promoted, he’s moving to D.C. He broke things off with Natasha tonight. I mean, their arrangement.”

“I know,” you said. “She texted me while you were in the bathroom. I’m going to spend the night at her place tomorrow. It’s been a while since we had a girls’ night, and we both really need it.”

“Good.” He cupped the side of your face, let his thumb brush your jaw. “I’m going out with the boys tomorrow. Steve’s leaving soon.” He pulled his hand back. “We should try to get some sleep.”

“No, please,” you said, shifting closer to him. “Not yet.”

“Angel, we can’t stay awake all night.”

“I don’t want to be alone in the dark.”

“I’m right here with you,” he spoke gently.

“But once you fall asleep I’ll be alone.”

Bucky raised his head and kissed your forehead, his lips lingering on your skin. When he pulled back, he rested his hand on your forearm and let his warmth seep into your skin. His thumb caressed the inside of your wrist, stroked over your racing pulse point.

“I’ll wait until you fall asleep,” he said.

“Thank you, Bucky.” You smiled and let your index finger run down the length of his nose. “Does it hurt when you sleep on your left side?”

“Not really,” he replied. “Most of the time it’s just weird. It feels like my phantom limb hangs down through the bed. Like my arm is invisible and just goes through the bed.”

“What do you miss the most?”

He let out a long exhale. “Not much. Hugs. Proper hugs... I guess. Holding someone close and wrapping myself around them. Squeezing someone against my chest, making them feel protected. I used to be a great hugger. Now I give bro hugs.”

“I love bro hugs.”

His chuckled dissolved into a grin, and you both stayed quiet for a moment. He knew you weren’t asleep, he could hear you thinking. “What’s on your mind, beautiful?”

“I was wondering,” you started, then trailed off. “One day we’ll have to end this arrangement. Do you think it’ll end well, or is it going to be messy?”

It took him a minute to respond.

“Y’know, one of the things I learned in therapy was to stop worrying about things I can’t control,” he said. “That’s in the future, for future-you and future-me. I don’t know how it’ll end but I can promise you one thing: I’ll always be there for you. Arrangement or not.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” you breathed out. “Right-now-me is a lucky bitch.”

You both laughed softly, then fell into a contemplative silence. There was something so peaceful about lying in bed with you, his hand loosely wrapped around your wrist, sharing warmth. He didn’t want to fall asleep.

For the next hour you talked about your families, your childhood, your friends, your likes and your dislikes. You told him about being an adopted child and living with other adopted kids. He could tell you were holding back when you talked about your siblings.

The only one you gushed about was Okoye. You were evasive when you talked about Scott and Wanda, though you did tell him that you had agreed to meet Wanda.

“What’s your favorite comfort food?”

“Breakfast for dinner.” Your voice was soft and small, he knew you were falling asleep. “When I was a kid, we had breakfast for dinner every Sunday night. We’d grab a bowl of our favourite cereal and eat together in front of the TV. I miss those days.” Your face was half buried in your pillow. “What’s yours?”

“Easy, pancakes.”

You smiled, your eyes were closed. “I like pancakes too.”

He watched you fall asleep and made a mental note to make some pancakes for breakfast. Your breathing evened out, and he waited a few more minutes to make sure you were asleep before he rolled onto his back and closed his eyes.

Bucky woke up to the sound of rain striking against the window. He opened his eyes and noted that the room seemed brighter than usual. A quick glance at the bedside clock told him that it was already a little past eight.

He stretched, sighing contentedly, and rubbed the sleep from his eyes with his closed fist. He tilted his head to look at you, still sleeping next to him. You lay on your stomach with your face turned away from him and your arms hugging your pillow. He adjusted the covers around your shoulders and stealthy slipped out of bed.

He went to the window and fixed the shades to make sure they didn’t let any light in. Then he made his way downstairs where he found Steve cracking eggs into a bowl. He was still wearing Bucky’s clothes, but his hair was a mess. Still he looked positively glowing.

“Mornin’,” Steve greeted with a wide smile.

“Hey, man.” Bucky took a seat at the kitchen island. “When did you get back?”

“About ten minutes ago. Long enough to notice that your angel hasn’t slept in her room last night. Wanna talk about it?”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” Bucky said with a shrug. “She didn’t want to be alone.”

“So you slept with her.”

“We slept in the same bed. Nuance.”

“I’m gonna nuance your face with my fist if you don’t talk to her soon,” Steve exclaimed. “She’s not going to stay single forever, Buck. Things are gonna change, one way or another.”

“I know.”

Steve set the bowl aside and held the edge of the counter behind him. He sighed, exasperated. “If I were you, I’d talk to her before something happens and takes your choices away from you.”

Bucky pinched his lips together, hard, and looked down at the counter. A muscle in his jaw jumped. “I- I don’t know how to talk to her,” he said, feeling tears gather in his eyes. He met Steve’s eyes. “I physically can’t talk to her. It hurts. It’s stuck here-” he aggressively grabbed his stomach “-all the time. And it hurts, Steve, you have no idea how painful it is.”

“That’s love,” Steve replied, smiling at him like he, too, knew how it felt.

“Well, it fucking sucks.”

Bucky wiped the back of his hand against his runny nose. Steve stood there in silence.

“This book I’m writing,” Bucky said, breaking the silence. “It’s about her. Just her.” He paused. “I can’t back down now, my publicist’s too invested in our story. I know it’s an eccentric way of telling someone you fell in love with them but... writing’s easier than talking.”

Steve nodded, his eyes glued to the floor. “It’s like a long love letter.”

“Something like that.” Bucky climbed off the stool and rounded the kitchen island. “Now, I’m going to make breakfast. I promised her pancakes.”

Steve smiled and watched him move around the kitchen. “I hope it works out for you, Bucky. I really do.”

Part 10

[kiss4kazu]

ooh! can i request something spicy?? maybe headcanons of claude, dimitri, and felix’s kinks?

spicy hcs | dimitri, felix, claude

this is combo between just kink hcs and also how first times being freaky w these three go hahhahahahhahah screams. this is not safe for kiddos so proceed with caution folks 

felix <3 

whew, okay. sweats. um 

so the first time u and felix do the do was definitely not planned. things tend to escalate a lot with felix when it comes to intimacy. pecks goodnight lead up to make out sessions and all of a sudden his hand is down your pants and you’re honestly not complaining. 

felix is definitely more of a giver than a receiver, not because he liked giving, but because he liked being in control. he liked seeing you writhe beneath him and all that jazz. 

he’d definitely deny you from reaching your high multiple times, partially to draw out the activity since you tend to come quite quickly beneath his touch but also because hearing you whine his name helplessly was a really big fucking turn on and he always swelled with pride knowing he was the only person who can turn you into a sobbing mess. 

felix has 2 moods. his soft and pliant types of fucking, and his arrogant, i’m big bad felix fraldarius and my cock is 30inches long type of fucking. he knows hes hot, he knows he has a pretty dick, might as well utilize it.

he hates praise when it’s ingenuine, for things intangible that he hadn’t earned himself. when it’s people praising him for his title or the power of a fraldarius battalion. 

but praise when it comes from you? when it’s you letting him know just how amazing he feels inside of you, how with every thrust of his hips your brain short-circuits and your eyes water with unspilled tears? when it’s you not being able to even form coherent words anymore because felix fraldarius is throbbing inside of you... yeah, that kind of praise. it does wonders for him and his dick. 

he’s also into hair-pulling

and overstimulation

hes also rly rly easily jealous like if someone else was making eyes with you or perhaps you were giggling a little too loudly with some handsome noble he’d just yank you away and march u up the stairs to his dormitory before kissing you hard 

he’s the type to make u beg and be rly possessive he’d just fuck you so ruthlessly hair stuck to his skin, panting “you’re mine. mine. say it” and u would just cry bc why tf he so sexy hello-

as mentioned in my kissing post, felix sucks the life out of you when he kisses you so it’s only logical that he fucks the life out of you too.  

im kidding ofc!! not rly

although he’s on the giving end of things, it’s still completely self-indulgent, felix gets off just knowing he’s getting you off because he’s a sexy narcissist like that. 

but on some days, he really really wanted you to know he cared a lot about you. 

felix isn’t the best with words, but he was really good with his tongue, so things usually worked out okay. he’d kiss you, everywhere. every inch of you, leaving hickeys in even the most visible places because who fucking cares. you were his, he needed you to know that. he needed everyone to know that. 

he can be sensitive sometimes too, make love, if you will. 

he has to be rly emotional tho, so it’s probably after something eventful happens in his life. like when the kingdom takes back fhirdiad, or wins the war. or when he’s sleepy and tired and wakes up hard and is just too lazy to put on his big bad scary persona. 

sleepy felix is submissive felix, aka my favorite felix. sleepy horny felix is all whiny and blushy and just wanted to come and he absolutely despised himself for it

you were well aware of how much he hated himself for being soft and needy, but that made teasing him all the more fun.

so yes, some nights felix would fuck you brainless and soak in the sound of your voice crying out his name helplessly. but on other nights, felix would lay down, his hair splayed against the pillow, your fingers twirling his locks and tugging gently as your other hand jerked him off, lips pressed against his as you breathed in his whines and grunts.

hearing him whine was a really rare sight, but it did slip out occasionally, when you squeezed the base of his member unexpectedly or when you took him deep into your throat and swallowed around him. felix really likes fucking your mouth. 

yeah felix is an emotionally constipated sex god 

claude ! 

whew lord. 

ok so claude, my sweet, cheeky, little shit <3 

the first time probs wasnt even intentional with him either he was just teasing you a little too much and things got a bit carried away but it’s a great time nonetheless

doing the do with claude is probably a rollercoaster ride, he would literally never shut up and would just say the most stupid things and you’d hate yourself for still being so desperate for his touch because somehow in between his terrible jokes and merciless teasing he whispered complete filth into your ears.

he’s a master of dirty talk, chuckling against the shell of your ear at the sound of you choking out a sob at his words, tugging at your earlobe just to spur you on even further. 

“don’t tell me you’re clocking out already?” you’d just glare at him in frustration despite your flushed cheeks and he’d kiss you on the tip of your nose and laugh in amusement at your misery 

he’ll literally do everything but fuck you, covering every inch of your skin in love bites, especially your chest. he’d literally eat you out or suck you off until you were dizzy but if you want him inside of you, he’d definitely make you beg. 

if you ever tried to get smart with him… um, he’d uh .. p-punish you 

not like in a pain kink type of way he’d just pull out right before you could nut and would laugh maniacally in your face afterwards because that’s what you get for being a smart ass ! denying u from coming is basically how he punishes u so its a pretty long night but claude’s really really good with his tongue so you’re guaranteed to come like 3 times at minimum anyways

he’d devour you, all smirks and with eyes filled with mirth and he wouldn’t give in until you were absolutely wrecked under him. 

he’s very um… dominant, i would say

but not an aggressive dom, definitely a playful dom who enjoys edging and teasing a bit too much 

he’s also pretty experimental, i can see claude as a bit of an exhibitionist also, he’d probably fuck you in the cathedral just for shits and giggles 

but he is human and despite how much of  a little shit claude is he’s just as wrecked as you he’s just much better at hiding it 

he’d probs quit the teasing once he himself can’t handle it anymore

and wow uh thats when claude gets all sensual 

when claude’s kind of in overdrive and completely uncoordinated just messily thrusting over and over again to finally get you both to that place thats when he becomes all romantic and lovey 

would compliment you to no amounts end, call you all sorts of pet names like honey, sweetheart, baby, etc. 

his messy curls would stick to his skin, his forehead pressed firmly against yours, verdant eyes blown wide maintaining eye contact with you just for that extra level of intimacy because watching you when you’re like this really drives him over the edge. 

he’d pant against your lips, kiss you roughly and somehow find it in himself to even let out an amused laugh because he’s having sex and that’s kind of funny for some reason

claude’s pull-out game probably a1 but idk he’s possessive in less conventional ways so i feel like he’d  get off to the thought of releasing inside you and watching him drip down your thighs bc yea

claude is also the king of aftercare let it be known

he’d have so much energy after sex for some reason like he’d just hop right up clean your bodies, fetch you tea if you wanted some and curl up with you resting on his chest, running his fingers over the skin of your arms tenderly and smiling softly to himself when exhaustion takes over you and you slip into a warm slumber against his chest. 

i love him bye

dima 

ok so dimi is a busy busy boy and even when he does have free time he’s never entirely there his mind is always kind of somewhere else u know 

he’s always struggled w getting a proper night's rest and always overworks himself into hysteria

so, as his lovely s/o, you presume a nice session to destress will help loosen those knots in his muscles and all that chaos whirring around in his mind

you were thinking a nice trip to the sauna or something

but dimi had other ideas 

 he’d just look at you and his gaze would darken all of a sudden and with just a glance at him you already feel the wind being knocked out of you 

it would be rly sudden, like dimitri’s just rly needy all of a sudden and he’s taking whatever you’ll give rly he has so much pent up stress and needs some form of release and he’s so so emotional and touchy and won’t stop kissing you with so much fervor and desperation

dimi is 1000% a lovemaker im sorry u cannot convince me otherwise. unless he is feral. if he is feral then understandable have a good day. 

he’s all about pampering and kissing every inch of you and asks every five minutes is this okay? are you comfortable? does that hurt? are you sure? because he’s terrible with fragile things and if he ever hurt you he’d never forgive himself poor baby

part of you just wants to grab his face and say !!! im fine !!! you big idiot !! but you just pull him to your chest and nuzzle your face into his neck and breathe him in deeply, kissing his jaw gently before reassuring him i’m fine dimi, stop worrying 

he’d calm down instantly and focus back on the task at hand, pleasuring the love of his life hehe

BODY WORSHIPPING non stop praises just kissing everywhere his lips come across you’d love it but hate it at the same time bc part of you just wants him in u already and the other half of u is just so so enamoured by him and feels so warm and loved and appreciated

he’s more of a giver than a receiver as well though for opposite reasons compared to felix, he worries about your comfort so much to the extent where it distracts him from his own pleasure, and it isn’t until he’s inside of you that he remembers and is like oh wow fuck and yea things dont usually last very long for him since he always neglects his own pleasure in favor of yours. he gets so focused on making u feel good because he loves you so much and he needs you to know that so yeah he doesn’t remember to even touch himself lmao 

you’d probably come like twice before dimi even whips his schlong out 

at the peak of his pleasure tho dimi gets kinda rough ngl. he’s a person whos very emotionally driven so when everything gets to be a bit too much he’s just slamming into you with so much force your skin stings, grip so tight on your hips there’s sure to be bruises in the morning but despite how rough he is his eyes are nothing but gentle and so so loving 

probably says something like oh seiros when he’s about to come LMAOOO 

dimi is also a king with aftercare but he’d probably knock out like a log afterwards and it’d be like the best sleep he’d get tbh all warm and satiated and just content

dimi sex god 

[alreadyblondenow]

And he never heard from her again

▸ Jaehyun x reader ▸ Smut, Angst, Idol au

Summary: As you lay at the hospital bed unconscious, Jaehyun blames himself because of the accident and regrets the time when he took you for granted.

Word count: 4k

Warnings: Sex, sex, car accident, major character loss (that spoils everything but you’ve been warned), possessiveness, making of sex tape, mentions of multiple sex tapes, swearing, mentions of other idols, unprotected sex, mentions of alcohol, Jaehyun accidentally hurts the reader. Click away if any of the warnings makes you uncomfortable.  

A/N: PURE FICTION! Enjoy another idol au from me. 

Wet.

Minty.

Cold.

“Wake up sleepy head” your boyfriend spreads wet kisses around your exposed skin. Anything he could reach, your neck, your thighs, your lips. It feels good to be showered with love first thing in the morning but you shrug him off and pull the blanket over your head because you want to sleep more. “I’m sorry to disturb your sleep princess, but it’s time to go now” you smell his fresh breath near your face. And when you finally meet his eyes, your boyfriend is all dressed up, ready to start his schedules for today.

“Oh Jung Jaehyun, you have worn me out last night” you whine but you force yourself to wake up. Jaehyun is looking at your morning face and naked body, admiring the beauty of his girlfriend. “No shower sex today?” he gave you a good morning kiss and chuckled at your question.

“No, sleeping beauty. If only you got up a little early then, yeah we could have. But, you were sleeping so soundly I couldn’t wake you up. Now come on, have breakfast with me before the van arrives with my manager” he offers you his hand to help you get up, giving you his robe to cover yourself.

It was your second anniversary last night and you two had dinner in one of the fanciest restaurants in Seoul. The food was amazing as expected, Jaehyun picked a fine wine which made you two a little buzzed and ended up in his house and had crazy anniversary sex to end the night.

Dating a very famous kpop star like Jaehyun is not a walk in the park. But loving each other and giving the relationship a chance is always worth it. The busy schedule is something you and Jaehyun always fight about, but as you two keep on holding on you both managed your busy schedules and always meet each other halfway just so you can spend time with each other. Who would have thought that believing that your relationship could work brought you two deeper into loving each other?

After you had your shower, Jaehyun booked you a cab to make sure you get home safely. You see, even for Jaehyun, watching you leave every morning is something he really hates. “Call me when you’re home okay? I’ll pick up, I’m having my makeup done by that time” he kissed you deeply and passionately before he opens the door for you and watches you get inside the cab.

Soon, the white van appears in front of his house and Jaehyun said goodbye to his family thanking them once again for letting you and him crash for the night. His family always adored you, they love you even more because you take care of their dear Jaehyun and secretly hoping that it’s going to be the two of you in the end.

When Jaehyun is all settled and getting his make up done for NCT’s schedule for today, his phone rang and it was a call from you. Finally, he thought, his mood changed from quiet to giggly because you did not forget to call him. “I’m guessing you missed me already, that’s why you called?” he answers with a smile, the members beside him tease him continuously. He needed to gesture a ’shh’ sign because he can’t hear you.

“I’m sorry Mr. Jung but this is not Ms. Y/n. She got into a car accident this morning and we can’t reach anyone from her family. She is rushed to the Asan Medical Center. Your number is the only local number we could find if you could please-“

The shocking news made Jaehyun drop his phone and ran to his manager, asking him to please let him go to the hospital to see you. Jaehyun was desperate but the managers can’t let him go just like that. Spotting a kpop star inside a hospital can make a whole nation buzz, of course, they won’t let Jaehyun go to you. There are tears in his eyes as he imagines you alone and unconscious in a hospital bed while the members are trying to help him compose himself and tells him to be strong but Jaehyun was only quick to blame himself and cry some more. “This is all my fault”  

Twenty five months ago

Jung Jaehyun is mighty handsome.

The office is having an exclusive party at an open space rooftop bar. The party was not like any loud party, it's a party where people still talk about business and meet possible clients for the future. And meeting Jung Jaehyun and the other members of NCT 127 and their manager, is part of the purpose of this party.

And again, Jung Jaehyun is might handsome.

“How long have you been in the marketing industry?” he asks, leaning on the glass balcony with you. Looking at the wonderful view of Seoul.

“Long enough to be established?” you chuckled because you don’t want to sound so boastful with your life achievements.

For a minute it was an exchange of words, a decent conversation that’s in between being professional and being friends, but it soon turned to lowkey flirting and exchanging of glances. He tells you what’s on his mind, you listen and feel your heart skip a beat every time he look into your eyes and smile. “Can I be frank?” he licks his lips and drank from his bottle of beer, “I find you attractive and I want to keep talking to you and I want to know what you think about me- and don’t you dare lie, please”

You let out a scoff and smiled at him shyly, “Well, Jung Jaehyun you’re incredibly handsome. That has been going on through my head since I saw you earlier and you’ve been making my heart skip a beat for the last few minutes”

Satisfied with your answer, he came closer to you slowly. Like your bodies are magnets. You’re sure that the place isn’t quiet but this small space that you share with Jaehyun is dead silent. Only his breaths and yours are the only ones you can hear. Having this kind of moment with Jaehyun is kind of magical like you’re a princess who just met his destined prince in a ball.

The friendly and flirty conversation became something even more when Jaehyun became too bold with telling you how he wanted to end this night with you, when he pressed his cold bottle of beer just above your knee and when he starts caressing your shoulder like he’s not on a public place. You’re not stupid to see that he’s after having a one night stand with you. One thing led to another and the next thing you know is you’re back at your apartment, kissing Jaehyun on your couch with a long forgotten bottle of wine on the coffee table. It’s not right to sleep with your clients but nobody needs to know.

Jaehyun kissed you down on your couch, unbuttoning his dress shirt and revealing his abs to you. Your hands automatically roamed around his body and you feel him smile in between kissing you passionately. “You’re so handsome” you whisper, and guided his hand under your dress, he got the message and finger fucked you while you remove your clothes and bra, leaving your panties on to tease the handsome man kissing you.

“I’ll take you out on a date, I promise,” he says while unbuckling his belt, removing his pants and boxers brief.

Wow. He’s big. And he has a dick of a porn star, his pubic hair is so sexy and- “Oh-“ he devours your neck, biting and nibbling your ear making you giggle and laugh while your bodies grind on each other. “So this is not a one time thing?” you moan out and he stopped upon hearing your words. “What? No. Let’s see where this goes” his face was so close to yours and you can’t stop your smile because you couldn’t believe you scored Jung Jaehyun. Is this a dream?

“What’s that smile, hmm?” he nuzzles your neck and kisses it softly. You touch his dimples and lips but he’s quick to catch your hand with his mouth and kiss it. “I’m just a person who happens to be not immune by your charms. I’m not kissing you as a kpop star now, I’m kissing you as Jaehyun” he continues to spread kisses around your neck, down to your left boob, and suck it for some time.

“Can I remove your panties?” he asks oh so sweetly.

“Of course” you answer with a kiss and feel him remove your underwear without breaking the kiss. Once fully exposed, you feel his slender fingers play with your slit before he goes in finally, the tip of his cock making you jolt for a bit. You hear Jaehyun grunt and watch as his eyes close and part his lips as he pushes inside you slowly “Fuck” Jaehyun went straight to the point and fucks you deeply. Bodies to bodies while listening to each other’s breaths.  

You had sex for the first time on your couch on the night you two first met.

Present time

“Just sign here please, then your transaction is complete”

For the third time in the past two months, Jaehyun has been paying your hospital bills and has been taking care of you, while your family is finalizing some heavy paperwork before flying to Seoul. Not that he’s thankful for the awful accident, but the accident had become the way for Jaehyun to finally meet your family even if it’s through a video call. Jaehyun promised your parents to take care of everything while waiting for them and that he’ll gladly pay for the hospital bills and refuse to take your parent’s cash.

It’s been two months since the accident and every day without you is consistent torture for Jaehyun. As long as you’re not awake, he will never stop worrying for you. It doesn’t matter if he overworked himself to save money for the bills, as long it saves you he’s up for it.

Ever since the accident, Jaehyun and the other members help him look after you at the hospital. Of course, the members are worried about Jaehyun’s emotional state as they are worried about your condition. They made sure that you two get the emotional and physical support that you and Jaehyun need. SM managers were all nice and helped Jaehyun with everything they can just so your boyfriend can see you every day.  

It was not an easy fight for Jaehyun, but the people around him take care of him, while he takes care of you.

“The other two victims from the accident passed away this morning” Jaehyun informs Johnny as the two sit quietly near you. Watching his girlfriend on a hospital bed is a different kind of pain. He misses you a lot.

“Don’t overthink dude. She will be fine” to be honest Johnny doesn’t know how to comfort his friend.

As Jaehyun takes Johnny’s advice, he reminisces about the memories that he had with you. Everything, from happy memories to sad and awful ones. Regretting the times that he took you for granted and promised over and over again that if he’s given a second chance to love you, he will love you right this time.

“I wished for this accident to happen Johnny. It’s my fault” Jaehyun blurted out.

Johnny was shocked to the core and stopped what he’s doing with his phone, “What the fuck?”

Jaehyun told Johnny the story about the biggest fight you two had during the months when you were just a new couple. So new that your work schedules irritate the both of you and all you two did was have sex and forget the problem. The cycle went on and on until you had enough and you wanted to break up with him.

Five months of being together

In the middle of having dinner with Jaehyun in a private restaurant, you finally told him what you’ve been keeping inside your heart. “This will never work, Jae” he turned silent and pretends that he’s not hearing you and you find it disrespectful. He was smiling the whole time, asking you what do you want for dessert and pour you a glass of wine like there's nothing wrong.

“I’ll cut ties with you starting tonight Jae, and that’s my final decision” you wiped your lip with the table napkin and stand up from your seat.

“Wait- baby, okay I’m sorry” he stopped you from opening the door, pull you in an embrace and everything turned silent again. You still love him, but staying in this relationship is hurting both of you so you had to take the first step and leave. As usual, Jaehyun uses his charms to get away from the situation. He kisses your neck and tells you sweet things that will lead you to having sex with him in this room. But not anymore, you thought.

“Enough Jaehyun. Please stop” you begged him to stop kissing your neck. Slowly, you feel his embrace crushing you and hurting you. You try so hard to push him away but Jaehyun is naturally strong that whatever you do to push him away is nothing.

Eventually, he lets go and tell his sorry. “I’ll change, I swear”

“No-“

“Stop making it complicated!” he punched the door and the loud sound surrounds the small room making you scared of him. He was turning red and his eyes were full of anger like he’s about to hurt you.

“I want to leave-“

“Well, I hope you get into an accident” he opens the door for you, pushing you out of the room because he’s so angry he’s actually afraid he might hurt you.

The breakup did not push through because Jaehyun went to your apartment to ‘fix’ things, three days after the fight. He apologized with all his heart, telling you he’s sorry and that he won't do it again. He promised to change his ways and love you even more in exchange for taking him back to your life and give him a second chance. Apologies are nothing if a person will always do it again. It’s up to you if it’s still healthy to take him back into your life. And of course, you have a weak spot when it comes to Jaehyun. You love the man. And he loves you. He just sucks at showing it.

Now that Jaehyun is on his sixth chance, the change that you’ve been yearning for and the change that he promised is long forgotten. Days, weeks, and months passed by, you and Jaehyun still fight like crazy because of different reasons that piss you both. May it be jealousy, he stood you up on a date, you forgot that he’s going to visit you in your apartment, Jaehyun has no time for you, or you don’t want to have sex but he’s really horny.

“I had a company dinner tonight, baby I thought you understand that part?” you whine in frustration while you remove your watch and your earrings. Listening to Jaehyun as he shouts at you, telling you that he’s tired from practice but he still chose to visit you, only to find out that you’re not home. He kept on yelling his points and arguments, hurting you with words that you’ve heard him say before but still sounds like you’ve just heard them tonight.

“I waited for hours! If my career is ruined because of you, I swear!-“

“I can ruin your career in one click, Jaehyun. Do you want me to post all of our sex videos?” you finally bite back because you can't stand him already.

“Post all you want my fans will be happy seeing my dick but you, you will get all the hate in the world!”

“Fine then!” you threaten him of actually posting it, scrolling through your gallery to find your favorite video with him. “Ah! This!” you picked the video where Jaehyun was spitting on your boobs while two fingers are inside your mouth and his cock is inside you. He was wildly flirting with the camera like a porn star. His fans will not doubt that he is the guy from the video.

“Stop it. I mean it” he tried grabbing your phone but you’re quick to counter his move. For a minute, it became a violent push and pull that made him use his strength on you which is not fair. He threw your phone so hard on the nearest wall that it cracked and the screen got broken. He didn’t notice that he pushed you way too hard that you landed on the floor face first and made you bruise your face.

“Fuck- let's stop this, baby I’m sorry” he let out his frustration.  

“DON'T TOUCH ME! GET OUT!” you shouted so loud that you’re sure you hurt his ears. You slapped him so hard on the face when he came close to help you get up. He took it like a man, but it’s obvious that your slap hurt his pride. Thankfully, he did not pry and left your apartment quietly.

Present time

While Jaehyun was cleaning your face with a damped cloth, he noticed that your bruises are all healed. He remembered that one time when he had pushed you accidentally and you ended up having a cut just above your eyebrow. He also remembered how you slapped him so hard that it made him realize that all he’s ever done to you is hurt you. It was a wake up call for him.

“Slap me again. I don’t care just please wake up” he begs. Kissing your forehead before continuing to clean you up. It has been his routine to talk to you even though he gets nothing. Sometimes he plays you some music so you won't get bored in your sleep and also you would know that he’s inside the room with you. As he continues being like this, he never losses hope and always visit you with a cheerful aura, knowing all too well that being negative in this kind of situation will only make him go crazy.

“Maybe if I did let you break up with me the first time you said it, this wouldn’t happen to you. I’m sorry” he whispers again. Tucking you in your hospital bed and making sure that you won't get cold. He fixed the white sheet and smoothens it before laying beside you carefully.

“I just love you so much” he hugs you carefully, “That’s why I really can’t let you go. But look where my selfishness brought you” tears roll down on his cheeks, making your sleeves wet because of his continues crying.

When Jaehyun became busy with his career, he can’t visit you every day anymore but confident that you’re in good hands because your parents are with you now. Nonetheless, he never forgets to call the doctor to check up on you. Sometimes, he and Taeyong write lyrics in your room just so he can spend time with you while he’s still working on his music. To be honest, he produces great lyrics whenever he works beside you. It was too much for him that sometimes he cries while writing the lyrics and Taeyong is quick to bring him back to focus and comfort him.

First month of being together

The continuous ringing of your doorbell makes you panic for nothing and quickly ran to your door to open it. “Jaehyun, what are you doing here?” you look outside to check if it’s safe and that none of your neighbors is watching.

“I just miss you so much I’m itching to see you” he cupped your cheeks and kissed you passionately, closing your door shut and motioning your bodies straight to your bedroom. You two were quick to get naked and meet in the middle of your bed to kiss and fuck already.

“Can’t believe I’m letting you fuck me in the middle of the afternoon Jaehyun” you lay comfortably in bed as Jaehyun kiss you wherever he wants, however, he pleases. Kneading your boobs and sucking them from time to time, spreading spit all over your body, and licking your pussy. He surprised you by spreading your folds and spitting on your pussy, licking you good, and making you moan and whine.

“Still on the pill?” he asks, pumping his cock and sucking your right nipple as he waits for your answer. You nod your head. Jaehyun folds both of your legs and spread them wide until your hips are not touching the mattress giving Jaehyun a nice angle to fuck you deeply. He pushed in slowly while watching you beneath him, he watches you grab your boobs and moan a little too loud. “I want to do something fun, will you let me?” he asks in between fucking you deep and slow, you wonder what he has in mind.

“Whatever you want” you smile and watch him reach something on the side table. He opens your phone and put it in recording mode, taking a video of his cock going in and out of your pussy, switching the camera to selfie mode, and put it on the side of your bed. Telling you to smile while he continues to fuck you. “Clever,” you said, as you two look at the camera while having sex. You smiled and asked him to flirt with the camera so whenever you watch it, it will make your heart jump and you won't miss him that much when he’s away. And so he did. He flirts in the camera like how he flirts with you normally in bed, kissing you while he looks at the camera, putting his idol skills to good use in bed.

“Turn around for me please” you followed what he asked of you and lay on your stomach. Jaehyun put your phone in front of you and dragged you all the way down to your bed so you two can fit the screen. He puts your ass up in the air, lick your pussy from behind, and went back to fucking you. Jaehyun loves to fuck you hard from behind while his hand is on your nape, pushing your face on the mattress as he pounds you hard.

“FUCK” you cursed loudly when you feel his thumb go inside your asshole slowly, making your pussy clench and unclench. A tight feeling for Jaehyun’s cock which he loves. He lets go after a minute and put his fingers on your clit, making you let go and cum so good that your legs are shaking and your legs are giving on you. You feel Jaehyun slow down and feel him cum inside you, leaning down to kiss you and ask you if you’re alright.

He saved the video and put your phone back on the side table and went back to shower your body with kisses while you two calm down from your high. “Sorry if this is spontaneous” he lays beside you, tired and sweaty.

“It’s okay baby, I miss you too”

“Baby?” he smiled in disbelief.

“Yes,” you rolled your eyes and continue to catch your breath.

“Say it again? Please?” he asked oh so sweetly showing off his dimples. Your weakness.

“Baby-“ he devours your lips again after hearing you call him ‘baby’. A small gesture that makes his heart jump.

“That’s it, okay? We're together now and that’s official. Understand?” he kissed you deeply again before you could even say something else. You smile through the kiss amused at how happy Jaehyun is while he’s on top of you. You two stayed like that in bed talking about anything and everything, admiring each other while you’re skin to skin, asking for kisses here and there, laughing together whenever he tells you something funny.

From the moment Jaehyun left you that day, your life changed and Jaehyun is the reason behind it. Bittersweet. That’s the perfect word for your relationship. No relationship is perfect, you’re well aware of that. And dating a famous idol can be so complicated that it drives you both crazy. But still, it’s a relationship worth saving for because you love each deeply than you could have ever imagined.

Present time  

Waiting is long suffering. That is clear to Jaehyun, now that you’re already sleeping for a year and four months, slowly his hope is already running thin. Not only that he’s suffering emotionally these past few months, but he’s also suffering financially and has become a man full of debts. He loaned money from his company, the bank, even from his parents, just so your hospital bills can be covered. Accepting every kind of project and working from sun up to sun down just so he can provide your needs.

Your parents needed to go back home and entrust you to Jaehyun because they don’t have any other options.

Life is becoming harder than expected.

Now that he’s away for a tour, he became even more depressed because he can’t be by your side. He asked his parents to take care of you while he’s on tour, which they gladly accepted and made sure to call him every day to tell him your condition even though he hears exactly the same thing every day.

“Great job today everyone!”

The members and staffs congratulate each other as they finish another successful concert in the states. Hugs everywhere, and a lot of ‘thank yous’ are said, smiling through the day as Jaehyun ready himself to call his mother and ask about you.

“34 missed calls” he murmurs and went somewhere quiet to call his mother and ask about the 34 missed calls. They should know that he’s working.

“Hey, mom. W-why so many calls? I was doing a show- did she wake up already?” The other line was silent but he can hear his mom breathing, “Hello?” Jaehyun speaks again.

“She gave up son, she passed away, two hours ago”

Jaehyun’s world came crashing down as he reaches for the nearest wall to support himself because his knees gave up on him. Tears pool in his eyes as he cries quietly, holding his phone so tightly. He screamed and sobbed so loud it echoes to the empty hallway. Thankfully Mark saw him and called the others and his manager.

“I didn’t even get to say goodbye!” he yelled and push the other members away as he lets that sadness take him away.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry Y/n, please forgive me!”

[negasonicimagines]

Revelation; Part Two (NSFW)

All the warnings and details you'll need are in part one. Enjoy!

As soon as they return to the mansion, Yukio and Ellie immediately go to their room. Wade gets up from where he was sitting on the floor, slowly stepping aside. The girls rush in to comfort you but a wall of scent leaves them dizzy with pheromones.

“Oh my gosh, I’m so glad you’re here,” you weep. The scent of your slick seems more intense, but maybe you’re just more aware of how turned on you are. The girls strip off their super-suits, joining you on the bed.

You practically tackle Ellie, burying your face in her neck.

“Mm, even better than I imagined…” you moan, starting to roll your hips so your soaking cunt can get the friction it needs on her thigh. Ellie carefully pushes you off of her, and you recline in the position you were before.

“Easy, sharpshooter. What the fuck happened? How are you in heat?”

“S-suppressants, not antidepressants, fake father, Wade,” you slur, explaining as best as you can.

“Wade,” Ellie and Yukio realize in unison.

“So, right now, you’re having not only your first heat, but a heat after years of taking suppressants,” Ellie fills in the blanks, and both she and Yukio look horrified.

“Mhm,” you confirm, “Need you. Both of you.”

“Of course, baby,” Yukio accepts, looking over you. Neither of them have seen you this stripped down before.

“Wait,” Ellie stops her, and you. “How do we know you actually want this? You’ve been really uncomfortable with the idea of sex until now, what if it’s just the heat? You literally said you don’t want to have sex today, like, two hours ago.”

“You don’t trust me?” You question, looking absolutely devastated.

“Y/N,” Ellie groans. “Of course I trust you, I just don’t want to hurt you. I love you. We love you.”

“It hurts. Please love me, Alpha,” you beg.

“Look at her, Ellie. She needs us,” Yukio adds.

“Fine. But we start out slow. Very slow. And if I get even a whiff of doubt or discomfort, we stop. Understand?”

“I need…” you whimper, clutching at your stomach as it continues to twist in pain.

“What is it, baby?” Yukio asks.

“I don’t know,” you sob, burying your face in your hands and squeezing your thighs together. “Just need it so bad, please.”

Both girls quickly shed their underwear, like the urgency of the situation is finally hitting them.

“So, the roses I smelled earlier…” Ellie trails off, feeling even worse. Not only is it not some other omega, it’s your heightened state of emotion, a sign of how much you want her and Yukio both.

Yukio gasps.

“Oh, Ellie, we can finally…” Yukio trails off.

“You’re gonna have to give a little more detail than that, Yukes. We’ve been looking forward to a lot of different things.”

Yukio whispers in Ellie’s ear, and the girl turns red before nodding.

“What are you gonna do to me?” you wonder.

“Well, if you want, we could both use our mouths on you at the same time,” Ellie reveals.

“Please,” you try to convince them to give you what you need. “Please.”

“Since you asked so nicely…” Yukio teases, like it’s not taking all her strength not to knot you right where you lay, propped wide open for the taking. It’d be so easy, and she could even try to have you to herself all week, and even though it’s probably impossible, you might have a baby. Oh, they’d be just the cutest, the perfect combination of her and you. What if you had twins? Or triplets? She’d never be able to tell them no once they flashed her your signature puppy eyes.

“Yukio,” Ellie snarls. “You’re panting. And drooling. She’s mine, too, remember?”

“Trust me, I remember,” Yukio snaps back.

“Alphas,” you whimper, and it’s like a switch flips. Their tongues battle for dominion over your most sensitive place, and your hips roll forward, desperate for more.

Ellie eventually concedes, giving your inner thigh some special attention that makes you squirm while Yukio devours you. The completely new sensations cause a tension to build in your stomach that you’ve only heard of.

“Oh my gosh, Ellie, Yuki- Ah! Ellie, Yuki- Ah! Ellie, Yuki- Oh, oh, oh!” you moan, embarrassed at how quickly you come undone.

“Oh, wow,” Ellie says. Yukio continues to lick up, well, everything, making the aftershock even more intense. “I- I didn’t realize you’d be that sensitive.”

“Never, ever, um, even by myself, ‘cause I never had any interest, because suppressants, so…”

“So, Yukio got to give you your first… Ever,” Ellie clarifies.

“U- Um,” you stutter, feeling a bit guilty for not making that clearer.

“You’re so adorable...” Yukio sounds almost reverent, and you taste yourself on her lips when they meet yours. You moan into the kiss, face burning under Ellie’s gaze and Yukio’s touch.

Ellie’s gaze turns into a glare as the kiss draws on, and soon that glare is joined by a growl that makes you gush. You pull back from the kiss, panting.

Yukio growls back, and your arousal intensifies even further, distracting the girls from their beginning turf war. You can’t help but wonder how many hickies you’re going to get in the next week.

“You really are an omega,” Ellie taunts.

“You like it when we growl?” Yukio adds.

They look like they’re ready to tear you to shreds in the best way.

“I guess it’s your turn,” Yukio remarks, sitting down next to you. “It’s still her first time, even if it won’t be the first time she-“

“Shut up,” Ellie snarls before going in for the kill, using her tongue to make you squirm and moan. She holds your hips down and your legs thrash around her, making you look the part of prey even more.

“Calm down,” Yukio suggests to you, stroking your hair. “It’s not like it’s ever gonna stop.”

“Oh fuck,” you whine, bucking your hips despite Ellie’s grip on them.

“That’s a good girl, fuck her face,” Yukio praises, taking one of your hands and putting it on Ellie’s head, holding the other. “She really likes having her hair pulled,” Yukio whispers in your ear. You get chills, but you do as she says.

Ellie groans into you, and at this point you really are fucking her face, your other hand having found its way into her hair.

“Oh my gosh, fuck, Daddy, I’m gonna cum,” you whine before unraveling again, hips still rolling like your life depends on it.

“Fucking called it.” Ellie grins proudly. “And she called me it. I think I win.”

“Oh, whichever way you slice it, I’m the one that ate our brave little be- omega first and made her fucking weep slick, so… Whatever small victories you can find, I suppose,” Yukio giggles.

“Yeah, but I’ll be the one to fuck her first,” Ellie counters.

“You really think so? I think it depends on who can get a condom on faster,” Yukio retorts.

“You trust me to pull out, don’t you, omega?” Ellie wonders, winking at Yukio.

“O-Of course. I mean, with the suppressants, even if you didn’t, it’s a one in a billion chance,” you remind her.

“Can I use my fingers to help you get ready?” Ellie asks.

“Uh-huh,” you agree, nodding as she slides one in, pumping, followed by another. Your breathing gets heavy again as she hits that divine spot over and over.

“Imagine my fucking cock hitting right there,” she breathes to you.

“Don’t wanna imagine, wanna feel it,” you plead. She adds a third finger. “S-so full, alpha…”

Yukio hands trail along your body carefully, as if you’re a priceless artifact she’s trying to appraise. She seems okay with letting Ellie have this, despite the fight she put up before. It’s probably the best compromise, you all know, because your first orgasm is something Yukio has that Ellie can never, now.

“Is this still okay?” Ellie wonders as she slips her fingers out of you, sliding them into Yukio’s mouth. The girl moans, cleaning them off eagerly.

“Yes, I promise,” you agree, and Ellie positions herself, unintentionally teasing your entrance. “Ellie, please.”

Her hips snap forward, but she’s careful not to push her rather swollen knot in. It throbs every time it presses against your entrance, where every nerve in her body is begging her to shove it in.

The two of you sync up so quickly it’s almost romantic, you meet her thrusts perfectly and her cock does feel amazing when it pushes up against that spot deep inside. She’s practically got you folded in half as you whine and whimper and moan.

You instinctively start to rub your clit, but Yukio pulls your hands up and away.

“You’ve had your turn, let us have ours,” she tells you rather calmly.

“B-but it’s too good, I need…” you weep.

“Oh- Oh f-“ A strangled noise catches in Ellie’s throat and you feel her cum spurt into you as she hastily pulls out. “Uh- Oh. Oh, wow.”

Yukio moves around you to get a look at whatever Ellie’s blushing over.

“You should be ashamed,” Yukio teases, playfully popping Ellie’s shoulder. “Giving our innocent little omega a creampie her first time. She looks really cute with you dripping out of her, though. Almost good enough to eat. Almost.”

Yukio pulls out her own member, and you watch her stroke herself, Ellie mouthing at her neck between their passionate kisses. Her strokes speed up gradually until ribbons of her orgasm splatter right onto where you’re starting to feel neglected, with a soft little moan from her that makes you throb even more.

“Fuck, it’s so pretty. Sit up, Y/N, look,” Ellie encourages. Her cum has mostly flowed out of you and onto the sheets, while Yukio’s paints you. Speaking of Yukio, she trails a finger up your tarnished slit, sliding it into your mouth. You taste the salty sweetness of all your juices combined and give a pleased hum, almost not wanting to let her finger go.

“Hmm… Now it looks good enough to eat,” Yukio confirms. “Wanna try to share again?”

“Absolutely,” Ellie agrees. The two girls lick up the mixture of their cum and your arousal as you tremble, squeaking and whining more than you actually moan, too sensitive to do much of anything other than lie there and take whatever they want to give.

Your teeth sink into your bottom lip and your toes curl as you’re finally allowed release once more, but they don’t stop, despite your shaking.

“A-Alphas, what are you… What… I… Oh, oh, please,” you weakly implore them, so far gone that you’re not even sure if you’re asking them to stop or keep going.

After another orgasm, they come back up to check on you.

“So- So much,” you say, in response to “Are you okay?”

“So, I’m gonna go with water break time,” Ellie chuckles, opening up a bottle before opening your mouth with her hand. You let her help you drink.

“Good girl,” she praises, and you blush as Yukio stares you down.

“You should have a bath, too,” she suggests. “We can all take it together.” The jacuzzi sounds great for your aching muscles.

“Can you walk?” Ellie asks. She wasn’t particularly rough with you, but considering nothing that big’s ever been up there before…

You nod, already starting to feel normal, or, well, at least at what’s probably the baseline of this whole heat thing. You get up from the bed and immediately collapse into a heap on the ground, knees having turned to actual jelly at some point over the past hour.

The girls can’t help but snicker before helping you back into bed.

“I’ll go draw the bath. Your cuddle time got cut off earlier,” Yukio remembers.

“You’re doing amazing,” Ellie praises you once more, fingers running through your hair and stroking your face. “Such a good girl. Such a good omega. My omega.”

“My alpha,” you whisper back, before burying your nose in her neck. Ellie tightens her embrace.

“Thank you for letting us take care of you like this. You’re being so brave, sharpshooter, I- I know you were really nervous. I want you to know, y’know, as happy as I am you’re an omega— And that’s really, really happy, by the way. —I’d be just as happy right now if you were a beta. I love you. We love you, and we’re so grateful you trusted us with this.”

“Thank you. You smell good and I love you,” you tell her, not able to articulate much beyond that.

“You too,” she chuckles.

Yukio emerges from the bathroom, and Ellie helps you hobble over, both girls giggling and giddy at your stumbling.

“So, we’re probably gonna have to take another week off, huh?” Yukio notes, trying to sound sympathetic, but both girls can’t help their proud grins at how they’ve already fucked you to pieces and they’ve barely even started. This week is gonna be great, and so will the next, blissful and full of aftercare.

“Mhm,” you whimper. The girls help you into the bath, stripping off their remaining undergarments before joining you.

The warm water is such a comfort that your eyes involuntarily slip shut. Its embrace soothes your sore muscles, and your breathing slows. Yukio starts carefully scrubbing your arm with a lathered up loofah, holding your wrist like it’s the most fragile, priceless thing in the world.

“Hm?” You open your eyes, but Ellie slides your eyelids down with two fingers, stroking your cheek after.

“Shh… Just let us take care of you, okay? You’re always protecting us, keeping the den tidy, and you took us so well… Just relax, now.”

You do as you’re told and relax.

Ellie joins in washing you while Yukio hums softly.

“You’re so fucking pretty…” Ellie murmurs, the soft washcloth she’s using drifting down from your sensitive neck to your far more sensitive chest. You give a shallow, shaky sigh as each girl cleanses a breast, chills spreading throughout your body. Your heart flutters when Ellie’s washcloth meets your inner thigh under the water.

Yukio’s hand rests against your stomach, more specifically, your uterus.

“Yukes…” you sigh.

“I know,” she says quietly. “I was just thinking.”

It’s a bittersweet moment, but Yukio ends it before the bitter overcomes the sweet by gently washing your stomach with the loofah she was holding before. The girls switch positions and you whine needily. Your infertility can be discussed later, when tensions aren’t quite so high.

“Oh, sweetpea, are we doing something wrong?” Yukio questions teasingly.

“N- No,” you admit, brows furrowing. “I just- I-“

You’re already too blissed out to string together a coherent sentence, but you need more.

“Yeah, we can do that,” Ellie understands. You keep your eyes closed as fingers slip up and down your slit, leaning into the touch. The steam of the bath blends yours and your alphas’ scents, clouding your perception of where each girl is. You try to get a peek, but Ellie quickly, gently reminds you: “Eyes closed.”

Your chest is slowly, sensually massaged, the palms of whichever girl is doing so rubbing up against your nipples perfectly.

The alpha who was teasing you below the water before now slides her fingers inside you, making you gasp softly.

“Hmm… Good omega,” Yukio murmurs, closer to your ear than you thought she was, before nipping at it. You yelp in surprise, but the sensation has you feeling even tinglier. You lean towards Yukio, wanting to obey their limitation of your sight, but needing the comfort of knowing where each of them is. You cling to her arm, she’s now only massaging one breast and using the other hand to stroke your face.

The fingers inside you, which you’ve determined by process of elimination are Ellie’s, curl into that spot, hard, and you moan before you can quiet yourself.

“I think someone’s starting to feel ignored…” Yukio jeers, and you hear an indignant “Hmph!” from Ellie. “How about this?”

Yukio pries you off of her, and you hear movement in the water. Soon after, she pulls your back to her chest, allowing you to recline. The feeling of the alpha’s skin against yours is heavenly. She starts to massage your chest again, and Ellie resumes her activities as well, now from in between your legs.

“This is perfect,” Ellie agrees. “You are. Both of you.”

“Thank you,” you and Yukio both sigh.

You start to get restless as the girls continue to stimulate you, letting out little whimpers that sound more like impatience than pleasure.

“What is it, love?” Yukio wonders, so close to your ear again. You shudder before answering.

“Want, um… Um… Y-you… You know.”

“To cum?” Ellie asks.

“Y-yeah, but…” You rock against Yukio’s hardness, which is pressed against your back.

“Ngh, oh, okay, yeah,” Yukio agrees. “Lean back.”

You lean back, moving up and bracing yourself against the rim of the jacuzzi before sliding down onto Yukio’s dick, eyes rolling back as you’re filled by an alpha once more.

“W-wait, with this position, we could…” Ellie trails off, and you can sense Yukio’s smirk.

“I know.”

“W- What is it?”

“Well, uh, if you’re okay with it, Yukio and I could try to fit inside you at the same time,” Ellie suggests.

“That sounds nice, but…”

“But?”

“First time having Yukio,” you quietly say.

“Oh… Okay, babe, that makes sense. Maybe later?”

You nod eagerly, and Yukio starts to move a little, hooking her hands under your knees to maintain more control over you.

“E- Ellie.”

Yukio growls.

“N- No, I just… Ellie, could you rub my-“ You’re cut off by a moan that’s a mix of pleasure and pain as Yukio thrusts harder, resenting the lack of attention. “A- Alpha, I’m yours. I’m yours.”

“I- I know, sorry. Such a good omega,” Yukio quickly apologizes, sprinkling kisses all over your neck and shoulders as she takes it down a notch. Ellie summons the courage to touch you despite Yukio’s possessive burst, and you’re on cloud nine once again. “You feel so good.”

Eyes still closed, you’re caught off guard when Ellie kisses you, but you respond quickly, tangling your fingers in her hair and moaning into her mouth.

“Love you,” Ellie whispers against your lips before kissing you some more.

“El, go faster, I think she’s close,” Yukio tells your shared lover, and she obeys. Your moans rise in pitch and volume but due to your position there’s not much you can do other than take what you’re given.

“Yukio, Yukio, Yukio,” you whine in sync with her thrusts, squirming in an attempt to meet both Yukio’s motions and Ellie’s hand.

You don’t last much longer, and the way you tighten around Yukio causes her to finish as well, burying her face in your neck and groaning; likely resenting the fact that she can’t bury her teeth there, not yet.

“Well, so much for gentle aftercare,” Ellie chuckles, stroking your cheek, which honestly feels as sensitive as the rest of you.

“S-sorry, couldn’t help myself.”

Ellie helps you off of Yukio, and you nuzzle into her, embracing her.

“You two are the best alphas ever,” you mumble, eyes growing heavy again.

“We’re the only alphas you’ve had,” Ellie skeptically responds. You whimper at the perceived rejection. “Oh, but thank you. You’re sweet.”

“More than just sweet,” Yukio argues, pulling the plug on the jacuzzi. Ellie holds you as the tub drains, so you don’t get too cold, while Yukio hunts down some towels and your robes. Pink satin for her, black flannel for Ellie, and a plush F/C one is yours.

The girls assist you as you get out of the tub, wrapping you in your robe and helping you to bed before equipping theirs.

Being bundled between them is enough to keep the worst of your heat pains at bay.

“Can I open my eyes now?” You wonder, and the girls chuckle endearingly.

“Yes, Y/N,” Ellie permits, but it seems as though you could’ve done so or at least asked much sooner, based on her tone. “I said yes.”

Your eyes stay closed, so heavy that you don’t even wanna bother yet.

“Babe, stay awake. We need to talk,” Ellie insists.

“About what?” Yukio asks curiously.

“The, uh.. The thing Wade stopped her from doing.”

“Jus’ thinking about it,” you correct.

“And the Supreme Court is ‘just thinking’ about overturning Roe v. Wade. It’s still a fucking problem,” Ellie argues.

You shake your head.

“I have real medicine now, I’ll be fine.”

“You still hid it from us,” Yukio says softly, tearfully. “We- We failed you. You didn’t feel like you could tell us, your alphas.”

“Being my alphas is what made me not want to tell you. Because you can’t- Because- Because I knew it would be torture for you both if I had a problem you couldn’t fix; a need you couldn’t provide. I just wanted to protect you.”

“Sharpshooter…” Ellie looks heartbroken, and the devastation that both girls reek of makes you want to lock yourself away (or worse) so that you’ll never hurt them again.

“I’m- I’m sorry. I never meant for you to find out.”

“That’s not the problem here,” Ellie disagrees.

“Isn’t it? If you two never found out, you wouldn’t be unhappy about anything right now. I ruined this.”

“No,” Yukio snarls, wrapping her arms tighter around you, as if they can protect you from yourself. “You’re good. We… I told you, we were the ones who made you feel like it wasn’t safe to be honest with us. We’re proving you right the longer we talk about this before you’re ready to. Don’t you agree, Ellie?”

Ellie nods, seeming to finally understand.

“Can you at least promise that if there’s any other time you feel like you did then, you’ll talk to someone you trust, even if it’s not us?” Ellie requests.

“I can do that,” you concede.

“Thank you,” both girls reply, and Ellie moves a little closer, maneuvering her arms so that she’s embracing both you and Yukio, who’s spooning you.

Between the drowsy scent of petrichor, the nostalgic scent of a campfire, and your own relaxing lavender aroma, the three of you are finally soothed, and able to rest before continuing to contend with your first heat.

The next week is nothing short of an absolute fuckfest. Sure, you all take breaks for food, water, showers, et cetera. But, on what should be the final night of your heat, something causes you to stir.

The absolute need that came with your heat had waned over the week, but now it seems to be back with full force. You squirm in your half-sleep, trying to ignore it, but sense that your girls are already awake.

“Baby,” one of your alphas whispers. You’re draped across them both, all of you naked and entangled. You’re not even sure where you end and they begin right now, let alone which is which.

“Can we touch you?”

“Mhm,” you agree sleepily.

Their hands wander comfortingly, making it easier for the sandman to lure you back into his arms, but one of the alphas is bold enough to slip her fingers inside of you, sliding them right back out for some reason.

“Wow…”

“That is… A lot of slick.”

Oh.

You whine, spreading your legs for whichever one of them will touch you, it really doesn’t matter. You’re guided into one of their laps, whoever it is feels huge with no prep.

“Please just knot me so we can sleep, s’not like I can get pregnant anyways,” you request.

“Mmkay, sharpshooter, if that’s what you want.” So, it’s Ellie fucking you. That’s nice. Hers is a little shorter than Yukio’s, but she’s thicker. You fidget around, adjusting to her girth before finding that perfect angle and just bouncing.

“You look so pretty riding our alpha like that,” Yukio quietly praises, making you shiver. She plays with your nipples, hardened in the cool night air, while she touches herself. You resent your current position for limiting your sight of the other alpha, but you wouldn’t trade Ellie’s embrace for anything. “Touch that clit for us, won’t you? Cum all over her cock. Maybe you’ll even squirt again. That angle is normally what does it for you, isn’t it?”

“Oh, Daddy,” you sigh, obeying.

“No, baby, Ellie’s your daddy. I’m your mommy.”

“M-Mommy,” you whimper, continuing to squeak and moan for your two lovers as you clench harder and harder around Ellie, sinking your teeth into her scent gland as you three finish, nails digging into her already scratched-up back. When you relax, Ellie pushes her knot in. “S-Sorry, I didn’t mean to without asking,” you apologize, pulling away with a mouth full of blood that both girls are just dying to taste.

“No, babe, you know I wanted you to do that.” Ellie kisses your lips, cleaning them. “Don’t worry. Can you bite Yukio, too?”

“Of course! But, um, how am I gonna get to her?”

“Don’t worry, I can wait,” Yukio reassures you both.

“But- But you’re mine, too,” you insist. “I’m yours, remember?”

“Baby, of course I remember. Maybe- Maybe I could just bite you for now, and then you can bite me and Ellie can bite you in the morning? That way everyone has a turn.”

“When are you two gonna bite each other?”

“We can do that in the morning, too,” Yukio explains. In her drowsiness, she’d forgotten that part. “Are you ready?”

“Y-Yes, Alpha,” you stutter, because while you’re ready, you’re still nervous. Yukio picks a spot with her teeth, gently pressing, as if to ask you and Ellie, ‘Right here?’

You nod.

“That’s good, Yukes,” Ellie agrees, and the other girl sinks her teeth in deep.

You moan in pleasurable pain, and Ellie’s hands grab at your hips, feeling you flutter around her.

“Fuck,” she snarls, tensing up with you until Yukio’s no longer clamped down on your neck. The pink-haired girl licks up the blood, and you start to writhe, turned on all over again.

“One more time?” you request meekly, like Ellie’s dick isn’t literally locked inside of you.

“Of course,” Ellie consents, needing it just as much as you do.

Despite your now-limited range of motion, you carefully gyrate your hips. Yukio presses against you from behind, embracing you but also letting a hand slip down, fingers rubbing circles on your clit.

“That’s it, ride that knot like a good little omega,” Yukio taunts you, and you can feel her touching herself again.

“Your good little omega,” you moan.

“Ours indeed,” Ellie reminds you both, fucking up into you as you continue. Your breathing deepens and you clutch Ellie’s shoulders tighter, burying your face in the crook of her neck once more. “Close, sharpshooter?”

“Mhm,” you whimper, the three of you entangled once again as Yukio strokes her cock and your clit, the heat radiating off of all of you intensifying your scents. “So close, wanna cum so bad,” you beg.

“Come on, baby, you can do it,” Yukio encourages. “Cum all over her.”

You whine as Yukio’s strokes become quicker for the both of you. Feeling the hand she’s using to get herself off brush against you turns you on even more, just knowing she’s getting off on this makes it even better. You can feel Ellie pulse inside you as her breathing also becomes labored.

“Cum with me, omega, please,” Yukio murmurs against the back of your neck, and you shudder, finally finishing. “Good girl… Good omega… Good girl…” Yukio sighs praise as she comes undone as well, Ellie’s orgasm falling somewhere in between yours and Yukio’s.

Ellie reclines with you on top of her, with Yukio nestled between her arm and her body. Both alphas embrace you, and the three of you finally fall back asleep.

[goldencorecrunches]

Hello ur wangningxian fic had me fucking SCREAMING hello hello I was trying to practice driving but I was too busy YELLING anyways amazing job I'm so fucking hyped for pt 5!!!!

YOU’RE SO NICE HELP I KEEP STARING AT THIS MESSAGE ME HEART MELTIN HERE YOU GO HON -- (Part I) (Part II) (Part III) (Part IV)

--

They don't return to the table. It had been a stupid idea anyway, Wen Ning thinks; too serious, too tribunal. Wei Ying doesn't like to talk about it, like he doesn't like to talk about anything that's really fucked him up, but he knows family dinners for him growing up weren't the most comfortable affairs. Instead he and Lan Zhan budge over on the couch, though there's already enough room (there's always enough room, if it's for Wei Ying), and Wei Ying, tripping on his tiptoes the way he does when he's nervous, perches on the L-shaped edge of the cushion. The reflective vest Lan Zhan has bullied him into wearing whenever he goes out night-running dangles off one shoulder, coquetry in neon orange. 

He is too far away. 

Wen Ning extends a leg and prods at Wei Ying with his toes, making Wei Ying yelp, ticklish, and for a moment nearly smile, until Wei Ying gives in to what he clearly wants and scoots up against Wen Ning's side, the third overlapping piece in their tableau. A very wiggly tableau it will be, indeed, now that Wei Ying has joined it. They would not have it any other way. "So you guys kiss now," Wei Ying says, into the hole in the leggings over Wen Ning's thigh. Wen Ning keeps thinking he should fix that, and then forgetting. "How long has that been going on?"

"Just tonight," Wen Ning says, making his tongue go slowly. Behind him Lan Zhan makes a small noise, negative; one of his hands withdraws from Wen Ning's waist and reaches for his phone. They wait while he types, Wen Ning looking at the contrast between Wei Ying's cheek and his own black spandex, Wei Ying staring into the crack where the cushions meet the back of the couch. He seems like he's worn himself out; he curls around Wen Ning's leg like it's a stuffed toy.

It is times like this that Wen Ning is reminded of how much slighter Wei Ying is, than either himself or Lan Zhan. He imagines lifting his leg and carrying Wei Ying up atop it, like a fragile sparrow, hollow-boned, fluffed up against the cold. "Almost nine days," the lady in Lan Zhan's phone says. "When Wen Ning brought you back from the library. Kissed him then. Did not plan it. But." His fingers have stilled; Lan Zhan types with one whole hand, cradling the phone in his other, instead of with his two thumbs like everyone else. It's hopelessly endearing: our little old-fashioned man, Wei Ying calls him, and then tugs at his hair or tweaks his ear. "But you liked it? Mm. Can't blame you for that." Wen Ning can feel the flex of Wei Ying's jaw as he mumbles. A small hum like the vibration of a string starts at the top of Wen Ning's scalp and travels down through his body. The nausea has not left him, or the guilt, but Wen Ning plunges his hands into that hum and lets it fill all his corners. Now that they are speaking, it is better; though they've barely begun. The waiting was the hardest part. It's never as bad as you think it will be, he tells himself. He bites his tongue to get moisture back into his mouth. "We did- we did-, we haven't done anything between then," he says. Lan Zhan's arms tighten around him. Wen Ning leans back against him gratefully. "Um. When we went to that weird cafe with Lan Zhan's brother? That was what we were talking about." Behind him he feels Lan Zhan nod. "I wondered," Wei Ying says. He curls tighter, the movement like a brace before a leap. "Were you going to tell me?" Oh: Wen Ning's lungs have been stolen away. One of Lan Zhan's hands leaves him again, this time to reach out and press down on the top of Wei Ying's head. It's a bad angle; he has to strain, and even so he mostly gets the end of his ponytail. Wei Ying hides his face in the crook of Wen Ning's knee. Wen Ning has to blink rapidly and swallow, twice when the first time isn't enough. He's not sure what he means to say; what comes out is clumsier and more honest than he wants. "I didn't want you to feel left out. I'm sorry." Against his neck, Lan Zhan grunts agreement. He's petting the rough-chopped ends of Wei Ying's hair, the ends sticking up between his knuckles and then smoothing flat again. "Just," Wei Ying says. It's difficult to hear him, pressed as far as he is into Wen Ning's leg, but Wen Ning doesn't imagine he or Lan Zhan are right now giving him anything but their complete intent focus. "You have to tell me if you don't want me around any more, okay? That's rule, ah, rule eighty-nine of being my friend." He laughs, his shoulders twitching. Wen Ning needs to hug him so badly it's rooted his ass to the tasteful cream-colored microfiber. "Okay," he says, chokes on it. "Yeah. D-deal. Definitely want you here though. Right Lan Zhan?" "Mn," Lan Zhan rumbles emphatically. Wei Ying droops. He goes from light upon Wen Ning's knee to hundredweight, sinking like a stone in water. Somehow, Wen Ning manages to curl his leg and reach his arms and get Wei Ying bundled up against them both, his hair splaying out over Wen Ning's throat and his sharp wrists tucked up against Lan Zhan's sternum. He's still laughing, a little, and Wen Ning listens carefully in case the tears he can hear behind them start to spill over. "'S funny," he's saying. Wen Ning slings an arm over his him and wraps even closer. "I thought, hah, I thought out of all of us it would be me who would fuck up and accidentally kiss someone, but wow, Lan Zhan! Who knew you had it in you!" His body can't seem to decide whether it wants to tremble or to sag. It tries to do both, with different parts. Wen Ning looks up from under his eyelashes to see how Lan Zhan reacts to Wei Ying's implication that he'd kiss him, and sees Lan Zhan staring solemnly back at him, the same emotion reflected. He frowns and reaches to set Lan Zhan's hand on Wei Ying's hip where his has been. Lan Zhan resists him. "Like, you guys are my best friends, you know? My best friends, and I've told you this but I mean it, and if you two want to go off and kiss I'm really really happy to let you do that I don't want to get in the way and make you not want to be around me any more because I'm--" Lan Zhan is trying to communicate something to Wen Ning with a frustrated glare and the minute tilt of his chin. Wen Ning has an inkling what it is, and staunchly ignores him, because despite the warm-butter feeling spreading over him Lan Zhan is wrong. "--and I was like, to myself, what if it doesn't break everything? But obviously that's absurd, I always break everything, and--" "Wei Ying," Wen Ning says, in desperation, as Lan Zhan gives up all pretence of fighting fair and begins attempting to shove Wei Ying completely into Wen Ning's lap. He knows Wen Ning won't try to pull away when Wei Ying needs to be held, the bastard. "If you, when you, you, you, you-- kiss Lan Zhan! Please! He wants you to!" It is an uncomfortable position to be frozen in, for the beats that follow. Wei Ying's elbow is digging into the soft part under Wen Ning's ribs, and Lan Zhan's ankle is somehow twisted underneath them all. There's a heavy thud from the apartment above; as the three of them clutch at each other and stare, barely breathing, they hear harried footsteps and the muffled tones of a child being scolded. "Ooh, someone's in trouble," Wei Ying says. And then: "Wait, no. I meant. What?" Lan Zhan is glowering in abject betrayal at the wall over Wen Ning's right shoulder. His ears are slowly turning pink. "Hhhn," Wei Ying says, like a untied rubber balloon, and then-- frantically, scrambling over their tangled legs-- It is not that Wen Ning isn't jealous of what they have, Wei Ying and Lan Zhan. It is rather, to be witness to so wonderful a thing feels like a privilege. When Lan Zhan's hands come up to frame Wei Ying's face, when Wei Ying's lips part, it is more than beautiful; it is necessary. Wen Ning can feel himself grinning, wide and goofy, even as he loses feeling in his calves. It's just-- it's been such a long time, and he's-- he's happy for them. He's so happy. He's...crying? "Oh," Wei Ying says, "Oh, oh, oh," and twists in a violent motion, and Wen Ning is, for the third time in his most immediate history, completely blindsided by the knowledge of a mouth over his own. I haven't brushed my teeth, he thinks, which is a nonsense thing to think, because he did brush his teeth this morning, of course, and he hasn't even started getting ready for bed yet, and also, he had Lan Zhan's tongue in his mouth not even an hour ago, and he had Lan Zhan's tongue in his mouth and now he has Wei Ying's-- He becomes dimly aware that Lan Zhan is stroking his arm, where it's curved to trap Wei Ying flush against his chest. Wen Ning makes the executive decision to panic about this later. There are too many things happening right now to keep track of freaking out. For example: the discovery that brushing the tips of his fingers over the soft skin behind Wei Ying's ear makes him gasp and shudder all over. "Lan Zhan," Wen Ning says, amazed. It's too momentous a thing to keep to himself. "Look." He does it again, and they both watch Wei Ying's eyelids flutter. It feels like there's a volcano under his skin. "M-maybe we should stop and talk ab, about this like adults," he says. It comes out breathless. He does not want to stop and talk about this like adults. "Nonononononono," Wei Ying says, hands shooting out to fasten on their shoulders. "We did talking, now is kissing, can we do more of the kissing? I like kissing. I like kissing you. Both. Both of you." His face screws up. "You might have a point. I think I might pass out? But in a good way?" Lan Zhan looks deeply alarmed. He and Wen Ning maneuver Wei Ying so he has his head between his knees, their hands meeting over the bony seam of his spine. Lan Zhan squeezes Wen Ning's fingers. The volcano turns into a horde of extremely peppy wind-up toys. Or maybe this is what butterflies feel like? "Running," Lan Zhan says, gathering the strands of Wei Ying's hair back from his face. It takes Wen Ning a moment to understand; in his defense, he's fairly certain his brain has been forcibly disconnected. "Right, um, electrolytes. And sugar." He peels himself away (Wei Ying makes a pathetic noise, which twinges at Wen Ning's heart, but he's in good hands) and nearly faceplants on the edge of the rug as pins and needles shoot up his legs. Because Lan Zhan is a good and righteous man, he has the kind of orange juice that's full-sugar, and without bits. Wen Ning pours them all glasses just to be on the safe side, and also takes the opportunity to stick his head in the freezer and think thoughts that are not about confirming his love for his two closest friends via double fellatio. When he returns Wei Ying is sitting upright, Lan Zhan's arm around him. He refuses to drink until Wen Ning is cuddled up with them. See, Wen Ning's therapist says, as he tucks himself against the long line of Lan Zhan's body, Lan Zhan's eyebrows knitted as he rewinds the movie back to the beginning of the scene the left off on. Wei Ying slaps indiscriminately across the limbs within reach when Lan Zhan reaches the right spot; he makes the whole couch rock, and Wen Ning thinks he might burst, from loving them. Not as bad as you thought, at all. So much better.

[nightshade-minho]

-Blue Book- (12)

Warnings: negative emotions like heartbreak, envy etc, alcohol, excessive consumption of alcohol, making out etc.

Wc: 6.1k

You shot awake, groaning as you clutched the bed sheets tightly. Fuck, that was a terrible nightmare. You pushed the sheets off you, your skin feeling clammy and your hands sweaty.

"Y/n? You okay?" 

You turned to see Minho looking at you, his face covered in concern as he tentatively placed his hand on your arm, tilting his head.

"I'm fine..." You sighed and shook your head, sitting up straighter. "Really...it was just a bad dream." You mumbled, sliding out of the bed and glancing back at Minho with a reassuring smile. 

"Oh. Okay...' He stood up as well, adjusting the sheets and tucking them back in. 

"What do you want for breakfast?" 

You sighed and looked at the clock on Minho’s wall, pressing your lips together. "It's almost lunchtime. We definitely slept in...I am hungry, though." 

"Fine, call it brunch. Either way, it's food." He chuckled, heading out of the door as you followed him with a giggle.

Minho opened his fridge, glancing over at you. "Your phone was ringing at midnight, by the way. i was going to answer it but whoever it was gave up before I could pick up. I didn't want to wake you.” He said as he took out ingredients for omelettes, placing them on the counter. 

"Oh...it was probably Felix. I didn't exactly tell him I was staying at your place." 

"Ah, that explains it. Go, call him. I'll be done with this soon." he said, pointing to the currently empty pan.

You nodded and went back to the bedroom to grab your phone, heading to Minho's balcony as you dialled Felix’s number.

***

Felix was cleaning the dishes when he heard his phone ring. He looked over at the contact ID quickly, heaving a sigh of relief mixed with anger. He glanced at Chan before answering your call, putting you on speakerphone.

"Y/n! I was fucking worried sick! Chan told me you walked out without any explanation and then you didn't come back home, and-" 

"Woah woah, chill. I'm at Minho's, I stayed the night." 

"Oh..." Felix paused. He didn't miss the way Chan's already dull expression morphed into something even more sour at the mention of Minho’s name.

"I’m glad you're safe but...that still doesn't excuse what you did. You could have called. Instead, you let me worry." 

You sighed, guiltily. "I know...that was a dick move. I’m sorry, Lixie."

Felix sighed reluctantly. "I accept your apology, Y/n...you know I can't stay mad at you when you call me that." He pinched his forehead, trying not to let affection overcome him.

You giggled. "I know. My sunshine boy~ You can never be angry for too long, huh?" 

Felix fought off his smile, shaking his head. 'Yeah, enough of the buttering. You need to get back here soon, and help me with the decorations to show me you’re really sorry."

"Decorations?" You asked, confused as you heard Minho call out for you. Turning back around, you went back into the kitchen, grinning as you saw the buttery golden omelettes he'd placed on the plates. 

"They look so fluffy..." you mouthed, as Felix replied. "Yeah, for the party." he explained. "It's Jisung's birthday today, I thought you knew? Don’t tell me you forgot! The party's at our place-" 

"Oh! Fuck, I did forget about that, Lix- "

"It’s okay, just come home quick. Bring Minho if you’d like, we could definitely use the extra help." 

You nodded. "Sure, I'll be there right after breakfast." 

You shut down your phone, sitting down at the table and grabbing a fork, digging into the eggs. Minho looked up, swallowing before he spoke.

"Jisung’s birthday, huh? I can't believe you almost forgot. He's going to be very mad." Minho teased, waving his fork in the air at you and smirking.

"Too bad he'll never find out." You said smugly. "Right?"

"Right." Minho chuckled. "How are the eggs?"

"Amazing. Why are you and Felix such naturals at cooking? And then there's me, nearly burning down the kitchen the last time I tried." 

"Hey, it’s not your fault. It was the oven’s. We needed to fix it anyway." He laughed, continuing to eat his food. 

"I guess so." 

There was a comfortable silence for a bit as Minho watched you eat what he’d cooked for you. He hummed, realizing how calm he felt around you. Your presence made him feel so safe and secure. 

You seemed to really be enjoying what was on your plate. Moaning softly in appreciation, you took another bite, his cheeks flushing at the sound.

“This is...wow. Perfect.” You grinned up at him, chewing enthusiastically.

Minho wished he could cook for you every morning, for the rest of his life.

***

"You're finally here!" Felix shook his head, flinging the door open wide as he beckoned the two of you in. 

As you entered, your eyes immediately spotted Chan standing on the couch, hanging up a ‘Happy Birthday’ banner onto the wall. You inhaled sharply, your heart already beginning to pound errantly at the sight.

"We already did a lot of it without you..." he sighed. You gasped as you looked around the room, which had been completely transformed. There were tiny star-shaped lanterns hung from the ceilings, and the couch had been moved to the side, to provide space to dance. The living room was much cleaner, a stark contrast from how it looked yesterday.

"I know, I'm so sorry. I just overslept. Last night was weird. At least my headache is gone." You admitted. You felt Chan glance at you at that, quickly looking away before you could return his look.

Chan swallowed. His heart had dropped when he saw you and Minho walk into the room, together. One could only presume you'd stayed the night at his place. He felt overcome with jealousy, his chest rising and falling as he breathed heavily, desperately trying to focus on the task at hand.

Envy. It was an emotion he had always been quite familiar with, unlike happiness. The person he was envious of had been and still was Minho. Minho, who he'd used to call his best friend. 

First Miyoung, now you. Everything somehow circled back to him.

However, the jealousy he was feeling was a lot more profound this time. With Miyoung, there had been no illusions. Chan had been trying his best to win her over, but with no luck. Deep down, he’d known she was a lost cause.

With you, though...there was a time when he’d been almost sure you were the one, that you belonged to him...a time when he’d thought you were in love with him too. 

It wasn't like Chan to dream. He wasn't one to believe in happily ever afters, really. They just weren’t realistic enough...

But, for a brief moment, you had made him want one. 

Maybe that was why the bitter reveal had been all the more cruel... Minho, taking away what he considered his once more.

The thing was- Chan knew you were a human being. Not an object for him to claim. He wanted you to be happy...but would you be happy with Minho? He’d despised you back then. Chan still remembered the pure hatred that spewed out of Minho every time he talked about you. Had that been a ruse? Had he ever hated you? Or were you two secretly seeing each other the whole time, working together to undermine him and ruin the rest of his life?

Okay, so maybe that was a little far-fetched and absurd. Still...he didn’t know what to believe anymore.

Chan sighed and looked back at his banner, deciding to ignore the both of you.  

You tore your eyes away from Chan. Looking back at Felix, you hummed and tucked your hands in your pockets, breathing in.

"So, what do you want us to do?"

"Hm, let's see...we've got decorations and catering left. Minho can help me cook and you-" 

Your eyes widened. No way- Felix wouldn’t suggest you help Chan with the decorations, right? He knew better than to leave the two of you alone again.

You saw Chan freeze for a moment as well, although his back was turned away from you. Good to know he felt the same way.

Felix sensed the tension rising, quickly trying to salvage the situatiom. "Hm actually, Y/n... I think I’ll need your help with the food. Especially with the drink choices, you're always the best at that!" He turned to Minho, clapping his hands decidedly. 

"You can help Chan with the decorations, Min." 

Minho nodded after a moment of reluctance, grimacing as he went over to inspect the banner Chan was putting up. Felix took you to the kitchen as you heaved a sigh of relief, placing your hand on your chest. “That was a close call.”

He took out the menus he wanted you to pick from, as he watched your expression. 

"Why'd you leave last night, anyway?" He muttered sadly, carefully inspecting your face. 

You thought back on it. Why did you? Last night was kind of fuzzy in your mind, to be honest. You couldn’t even recall the final straw that had made you storm out of the house. It wasn’t like you to be this spontaneous. 

"Chan was annoying me, and making my headache worse. So I left." You shrugged. 

"...Right." Felix rolled his eyes. "Look, I didn't want to say anything at first, but you do realize we're all grown up now, right? It's time for us to put all that high school shit in the past. I know Chan did some pretty shitty things but is it really that hard to forgive him? Minho was terrible as well- maybe even worse, yet you forgave him." He pointed out. 

"Minho spent years grovelling and apologizing for his behavior. So what if he was mean, he's changed! It's clear to see. With Chan, I'm not so sure. I can feel the hate he has for me practically rolling off him.” You stared at the floor, trying not to let those memories overtake you. “Besides...I thought I told you. Chan’s betrayal hurt more cause I genuinely thought he cared about me.” You mumbled.

“Then again, I was stupid and naïve, so I don’t really have anyone else to blame but myself."

"Chan doesn't hate you..." 

"Really? I find that hard to believe." You raised an eyebrow. "If he’s a mature adult, I think he should come and try to talk to me about what he did. I'm not the one who did something wrong here, so I won't approach him. If he wants to apologize, he can."

You sighed as you pulled the menu over to yourself. "But, as long as he continues to be petty, you better believe I'll play his game." 

Felix sighed and nodded. "You know what...sure. Whatever." He made a mental note to himself, deciding to talk to Chan later. He couldn’t bear to stand on the sidelines any longer. He had to do something. 

"I'm staying at Minho’s until he leaves." You added, ripping Felix out of his thoughts. Humming, you examined the drinks menu he handed to you.

Felix shrugged, noting down the names of the drinks you circled. "Okay. Ooh, the old gang will all be here tonight!" He let himself smile, ignoring your icy demeanor. Looking up, he sighed as he noticed the scowl still present on your face. “Come on Y/n, lighten up! Let’s forget about Chan for a second, shall we? Forget about what he did to you. Forget about whether or not you want to forgive him. Just...treat him like you would any other normal person, okay?"

You groaned, standing up straight as you rubbed your forehead. Ugh, maybe you should listen to him. All these negative emotions were really exhausting, and you could definitely do without them. 

"Sure...fine. I can do that...I think." 

"Good girl.” He smiled proudly. “Now, let's do food..." 

***

Minho and Chan hadn't said a word to each other for the past hour. They communicated mainly through grunts and hand gestures, as they decorated the space in silence.

Between the mutual hate and jealousy, there wasn’t much room for a good relationship between them anymore. They were virtually strangers, and honestly would prefer to keep it that way. 

Chan kept glancing at Minho though, biting his lip. He inhaled, working up his courage to say something.

“So...how’s Y/n? Are you taking care of her?"

What kind of question was that? Minho frowned, nodding. "Uh...yeah?" 

Chan nodded, biting his lip as he looked at the decorations again. "Cool." He hated the way his heart was filled with dull hatred, anger and pain. A mass of negative emotions had settled in him over the years, and they definitely weren’t going to budge any time soon.

However...when he’d seen Minho again, some of the anger had melted away, kind of. The man was no longer the same person he’d been back then. More confident, yet also more vulnerable...he strangely reminded him of you, before you'd shattered your rosy view on life and opted for a more practical outlook.

There was an awkward silence as they continued their work. Minho felt guilt slam against his ribs as he caught a glimpse of Chan's face.

He looked void of hope. Calm, yet not in a good way. The kind of calm that came from losing everything.

There was a tiny part of him that wanted to make it all better for Chan. Tell the truth to you, and come clean. After all, Chan was once his closest friend. The two practically grew up together. Minho recalled how he’d go over to Chan’s every day after school, playing video games in his basement and generally horsing around. He smiled to himself as the memories came back to him. Memories of helping him steal his dad’s Playboy magazine...consuming an unhealthy amount of energy drinks and crisps as they hung out, content in each other’s company.

But then, he thought about you. No. He just couldn't lose you to Chan. Besides, he wasn’t even completely sure if the truth would make you forgive Chan. Maybe it would just turn you against Minho.

Chan was handsome...he was kind, muscular, loving. He would have no problem finding someone. 

Minho on the other hand...he'd never loved anyone the way he did you. The emotions were alien, and yet so exciting. It was confusing, really- he couldn’t tell if he liked these feelings or not. 

It wasn’t like he was stripping Chan of his soulmate or anything. It just wasn't a big deal. Right?

Then why was there so much fucking guilt, heavily weighing down his heart? Why was it impossible to breathe?

**

Despite having been thrown together last minute, the party was admittedly going well. The rest of the boys came soon after you and Minho, helping Felix finish off the preparations and transform the space.

Jisung of course, true to his nature, came ‘fashionably late’, after the rest of the guests had already arrived. His grand entrance lacked the raining confetti he’d initially wanted, but it was still cool. After all, he should have known putting Hyunjin in charge of it was a bad idea.

By now, the party was in full swing. Jisung loved being the centre of attention, and that little fact was made increasingly evident with the way he was dancing in the middle of the living room, a pink feather boa thrown around his shoulders. There were drinks being passed around everywhere, people dancing and having fun in every corner. it reminded you of the few college parties you'd gone to. 

College, safe to say, weren’t exactly the best years of your life. You didn't really have any friends, and Chan had been on your mind throughout it all. He was a barrier; blocking you from living your life as a normal person.

He sat in the back of your mind, a memory from high school that threatened to never leave you. To always stick with you, reminding you that you weren't worthy. You weren't deserving of his love...all you did was play the part of a tool, to help him get the girl he was really after. Was that really all you were good for?

It wasn’t Chan you were hung up on. The implications were what truly hurt. The thought that you wouldn’t ever be worth enough to anyone, the thought that love just didn’t exist for you.

You stood in the corner with Felix, sighing as you finished your third shot of the evening. Forget it. Focus on the party right now, the one you’re supposed to supervise. 

Nodding your head to the beat, you looked over the crowd. "Damn, Changbin's a really good DJ. We saved so much money on that one..." You eyed a drunken party goer almost knocking over the vase on the table, wincing. 

"This place is going to be a fucking mess by tonight, and I'm sure at least one thing will end up broken. It’s good we managed to save some money." You sighed, and Felix nodded. "Amen to that. It’ll be a nightmare to clean.'' Felix sighed, running his eyes over the floor which was already covered with a thin layer of trash. 

Minho suddenly slid next to the two of you, swallowing the remnants of the clear liquid in his glass as he grabbed your arm. His words were already slurred, and he’d definitely had a lot more drinks than you.

"Don't worry, we'll all help clean up! What are we here for?”

“Hm, does that mean you guys will be staying here overnight?”

Your eyes widened slightly. No. Minho noticed your expression, humming thoughtfully before shaking his head.

“Can’t. My cats. They don’t like being alone for too long." He took your hand in his. "Y/n and I will be here early tomorrow morning to clean up." 

You looked up at him thankfully, and then back at Felix. "Yeah." 

He eyed the two of you, gaze flitting from one to the other. "Okay...sure.”

The music was way too loud, the floor and walls thrumming to the beat. The three of you relaxed against the wall, collectively watching as the man Hyunjin was dancing with whispered something in his ear, a cheeky smile gracing his face. The bedroom eyes were clear to see, even from here.

You frowned, narrowing your eyes at the sight. "Oh god, please tell me he's not going to-" 

Hyunjin smirked, taking the man's hand and leading him off in the opposite direction, through the small crowd. 

Your eyes widened. "I swear to god, if it’s my room they’re going to be fucking in, I’ll-" 

Felix giggled as he patted your back sympathetically, Minho holding you back and chuckling. "Hey, hey- it's ok. I’m sure they won’t go all the way here, they’ll probably just make out in the bathroom and then go back to his place. Don’t worry." 

You groaned and slumped in Minho’s hold. "I guess Hyunjin does know better." 

Felix hummed in agreement, chortling. He looked over at the plates on the table that were gradually emptying, and sighed.

"Guys, wait here for a bit. Gotta refill those." 

You nodded as Felix left for the kitchen, turning back to Minho. Sighing, you leaned against the wall as you looked around the room properly. 

"You and Chan did a good job on the decorations." 

"It was mostly him." Minho exhaled. You pressed your lips together, shrugging. 

The room was dimly lit in a purple glow thanks to the lamp in the corner, as well as the plenty of stars that were hung from the ceilings. It was beautiful, and you were a little miffed that none of the guests were sober enough to truly appreciate it.

Jisung danced over to the two of you suddenly, shaking his neck and laughing loudly. "Hey you two!!” He wiggled his body to the music, grinning. “Come on guys, stop being wallflowers and come partaayyyy!" 

You chuckled and shook your head. "I don't know about-"

Jisung pouted at you, coming really close to you and placing his hands on your shoulders. "Pleeeaaase? For the birthday boy?" he asked, his eyes big and puppy like, his lips formed into a pout. 

You stared him down, but just couldn't resist as a smile broke out on your face. "Ugh, fine." 

"Good girl!" Jisung exclaimed drunkenly as Minho smirked, chuckling to himself as Jisung took his hand as well as yours, leading the two of you into the crowd. 

Jeongin was on the floor as well, surprisingly dancing up a storm as he grinned at you. Ah well. If Jeongin could, why not you? You might as well take advantage of the buzzing in your veins.

You immediately started dancing, moving your body to the beat and trying your best to look graceful and sexy. However, the alcohol was messing with your system, and it was difficult for you to coordinate your moments right. 

Minho laughed fondly at your failed attempts. It was adorable, how you danced like a baby giraffe learning how to walk. 

"Hey." He grabbed both of your arms, making you look at him. You looked into his eyes, a questioning look in them. 

Minho inhaled. He almost forgot what he was going to say. Fuck that, he almost even forgot his own name. Did he have to feel like this every single time you so much as glanced at him?

"I'll help...this is how you dance." He moved behind you, pressing your back to his chest lightly. Your breathing turned shaky as he started guiding your movements carefully.

"See...like that. Got it?" 

You nodded. "I think so..." You continued dancing, now looking a lot more sensual and less like a baby animal.

You got the hang of it soon enough. Minho was about to let go of you, but you held onto him before he could. 

“Dance with mee.” You giggled, pouting up at him. He smiled down at you, inhaling. 

“Okay~”

***

Chan watched from across the room as Minho and you danced, pressed to each other. He downed yet another shot, hoping the stinging alcohol would help him forget his worries and pain, at least just for a bit. 

Fuck envy. It was definitely the worst of them all. Despite the anger he had towards you, all he wanted to do was march onto that dance floor and pull you away from Minho. He wanted to be the one dancing with you instead.

He was so...so unsatisfied. The alcohol melted away his inhibitions, and now his emotions were all over the place, even more so than before.

Unsatisfied. That was it. He wasn't able to be productive, wasn't doing anything with his life merely because of his unfinished business with you. 

He knew he couldn’t blame you. You’d definitely come to know about the bet, probably why you’d left him. Although why Minho? God, the shock of seeing you two together that day was still fresh.

You were more than just a bet to him, and he wished you knew that. More than a blue book. 

You were...you. You were the prettiest, sweetest, most talented girl he’d ever met. 

You’d changed since the last time he saw you. More cynical. Rough, defensive. He didn't blame you. That...that was his fault. The reason why you were like that.

Despite that, he could still see traces of the old you. The you he’d fallen in love with. It had not gone anywhere, really. It was still inside you...somewhere.

Chan was starting to feel profound regret at the way he’d treated you. Was it stupid of him to think you’d still want him, after learning what he’d done to you? 

Chan sat up as he watched Minho's hand slide around your stomach, pulling you closer to him. 

Fuck, he almost wanted to throw up. He felt the anger course back into him, anger directed at you, at Minho, at his parents, everything.

That was it. He couldn't watch this, sitting in the corner drinking booze like some sort of pathetic idiot. 

No, you had to get a taste of your own medicine. 

Chan noticed the blonde in the crowd who had been eyeing him for ages. She was pretty enough, her features soft and smooth. On top of that, she was wearing possibly the shortest red dress he'd ever seen. Her fake tan was excessive, her cleavage abundant. 

In other words, she was perfect. Perfect for him to use as he put his drunken plan into action.

Chan stood up, finishing off his drink and setting the glass down. He made his way into the crowd, sidling up to the blonde. 

She smiled welcomingly, blinking up at him through her eyelashes. He grinned, glancing to the side as he moved closer to her. 

Hm, you hadn't noticed yet. He had to step it up. 

Placing his hands on her waist, he started moving her to the beat. Slowly he brought her closer to Minho and you, hoping that you would just look over for a second-

FInally! You noticed! A triumphant smirk formed on his face.

He wanted you to know that he didn’t need you. He wanted you to feel at least a little bit of the envy he was feeling. Again, it was the small victories that counted.

***

Your eyes wandered back to Minho, your throat feeling constricted as you tried your best to avoid the sight of Chan and the girl.

It was painful. So fucking painful. 

You still haven’t moved on from him, as much as you would have liked to. Watching him dance with her was leaving a bad taste in your mouth, your throat going dry.

They were all over each other. Her hands were around his shoulders and his were on her waist, their lips dangerously close as the racy music filled the room. 

You knew you were in a similar position with Minho at the moment, though. It was the alcohol blurring the lines, or you wouldn't be caught in such a compromising position with him, really. 

Still. This was different...right?

Fuck it, you just wanted an excuse to be angry at him. 

Chan somehow pulled the girl in closer, his hands slowly creeping down her waist and towards her ass. You swallowed and looked back at Minho before those hands could find their destination. Minho was looking at you with his eyebrow raised, his hands a little tighter on you.

"Everything okay, hm?" 

"Kinda..."

"Are you sure?" 

When you didn’t reply, Minho followed your gaze to Chan and the blonde, and then back to you. He put two and two together, sighing deeply.

"You deserve better, Y/n. You've got to move on." Minho swallowed. 

Yes, you did deserve better. Better than Chan, and better than him. You deserved someone who didn't keep any secrets from you, someone who would never even think of manipulating you. 

He despised himself for what he'd done. The way he behaved. As every second passed, the guilt grew. But how could he tell you? How could he even stand the chance of losing you? 

It was his fault. Everything was his fault. 

You noticed the sudden devastated expression on his face, frowning and cupping his cheeks to make him look at you. 

"Minho...are you okay?" 

"Mhm." Minho mumbled. "Uh...I need to go to the bathroom." His face was white as he let go of you swiftly, stumbling away as quickly as he could and disappearing in the crowd. 

You watched as he left, puzzled. Fuck, now you were alone. Just great.

You groaned under your breath, feeling Chan's gaze on you. Turning around slightly, you tried to avoid him, but unfortunately your eyes had already moved of their own accord.

His lips were on her neck, her back turned to you. However, he was looking right at you, an intoxicated smirk creeping on his face as he ran his eyes over you, all alone in the middle of a dancing crowd.

Biting your lip, you clenched your fists. You turned around, wading through the sweaty, grinding bodies, and made your way to the kitchen. You needed some peace and quiet. 

You filled up a glass of water, lifting it to your lips. The cool liquid ran down your throat, making you sigh in relief. It was so refreshing, a sharp contrast to the alcohol you’d been consuming all night.

You turned around, ready to go back into the room and find Minho when you slammed into a firm chest, blocking your exit.

Ugh. This couldn't be happening. 

"Move." 

"Shh.'' Chan shook his head, placing a finger under your chin and forcing you to look up at him. He caged you against the counter with his other arm, his eyes glazed over.

"Look. We both know- hic- that you and I have incomplete business-" 

You groaned, pushing him away slightly. "You're drunk, Chan." 

"I am not." He glared at you, placing his hand over his annoyingly broad chest, an offended look on his face. "Just a little tipsy, that's all..." 

You cringed, looking past him at the crowd. Ugh, where was Minho? Where was Felix? 

"Look at me..." 

You looked back at Chan, inhaling sharply. "What do you want?" 

Chan looked taken aback at your tone. He recovered slowly, stepping back and humming.

"I want…” He closed his eyes, sighing. “I want to know why you hate me." He said, his tone surprisingly even considering the amount of alcohol he’d knocked back.

"I- are you seriously asking me that question right now?" You asked incredulously. Seriously, how fucking dense could he be? 

"I am, Y/n. answer me." His slurred voice turned into a growl as he leaned in close. 

"I was nothing but nice to you, when no one else was...I loved you, I-"

You scoffed, interrupting him. "Oh wow, thank you so much.” You said sarcastically. “I think you and I both know all that was fake. You were fake, Chan- it didn't mean anything to you-" 

Chan slammed his hand on the counter next to you, making you flinch. 

"But it did! It fucking meant everything to me. It was the only thing that ever meant anything, and I'm sorry it had to happen the way it did, sorry I lost that damn boo-" 

"A simple sorry is not going to make me forgive you." You shook your head. "Get off me, Chan." 

"I don't want you to forgive me! For fuck's sakes, I just-" He breathed in, his voice turning soft as he ran a hand through his hair, his breathing shaky. 

"I just want to know why you chose him over me. He- he was worse-" 

"Huh?" His words were too slurred for you to recognize. "Look, Chan-" 

"Shut up." Chan shook his head, leaning in further. For a second, he scanned your eyes with his.

Fuck, he couldn’t believe he was about to do this. 

Inhaling softly, he smashed his lips against yours. 

It took you by complete surprise. Your heart felt like it was exploding- like a million, elephant sized butterflies were threatening to burst out. Shit, his lips were so fucking soft.

Was this actually happening?

It was. Insistent, yet gentle...his lips were all you could focus on. It felt overwhelmingly real, nothing like a dream. 

Warm. He’s so warm...

You resisted him for all of half a second, before melting into the kiss. Your hands snaked around his neck as he placed his under your thighs, lifting you up onto the counter. You were quickly getting yourself lost in him, the feeling of his lips on yours so familiar and yet so new. 

"Can't- can't get enough of you, don't think I ever will-" He mumbled incoherently against your mouth, his grip on you tight as he pressed against you.

Your mind was completely blank. There was no pride or anger in your head anymore, just Chan Chan Chan. His plump lips, moving against yours so passionately and swallowing all your breaths. It was partly due to the alcohol, yes- but also all the tension. Years of wondering if this moment would happen again.

And now it was.

“Chan-” You whispered into the kiss, tears pricking at your eyes.

This was a bad idea, it really was- you shouldn't be kissing him back like this. You were supposed to be mad at him- you were supposed to prove to him that you'd moved on. That you wouldn't let anyone use you like that ever again.

And yet here you were, right back at square 1. 

"Please, please..." he whispered, nipping at your already swollen lips with fervor as he dove right back in, caressing your back. 

His heart was pounding, unable to believe you were actually in his arms. Shit, he knew this was such a terrible idea. And yet he couldn’t bring himself to stop.

It was wrong, he knew it. Even if he believed he loved you more than Minho ever could, it was still wrong. You weren't his, and he had to learn to accept that. 

But...he needed one last kiss. One last kiss to let him know if you were a lost cause, or if you truly were meant to be his. He wanted to know. And so he deepened the kiss further, making you let out a small squeak that only made him want you more.

"Guys?" 

Chan pulled away, dropping you to the floor quickly as soon as he heard Seungmin's voice. 

Seungmin eyed the two of you, suspicion covering his face. You swallowed, subtly pulling down your skirt as you blinked, trying to adjust to the light that flooded your eyes. “Seung-”

Shit. Was that Minho, slumped against Seungmin’s body? 

He looked between the two of you, sighing as he saw your eyes on Minho. Minho’s eyes were closed, his forehead covered in sweat and his body limp. You moved forward, quickly rushing over to his side. “What happened?”

"Found him in the bathroom. He threw up, was crying on the floor. He didn’t tell me why...I’m assuming he’s just way too drunk." 

Minho looked up slowly, blinking and staring at you as he registered your face. "Y/n...." he stretched out an arm towards you, whining.

Seungmin groaned, Minho's weight clearly too much for him to support. "Y/n, please take him home. He needs rest. I'll explain to Jisung."

You couldn't look at Chan as you nodded. You carefully trained your stare on Minho as you went over to Seungmin, letting him transfer the man to you. 

"Min...you okay?"

He shook his head, gasping as he tried to take oxygen in. His eyes travelled past you, landing on a very remorseful Chan, his face covered in embarrassment.

You bit your lip, stroking his hair. “I’ll get him to the car. Tell Felix we’re going home, okay?” 

Seungmin nodded, heading back into the living room to find Felix after shooting a last glance at Chan.

You pressed down the urge to look back at him. Don’t do it, Y/n. You need to go home and re-evaluate your decision-making. Fuck, why didn’t you push him away?

You ignored the delightful tingling of your lips as you helped Minho out, most of the partiers completely oblivious as you dragged him out to the car, with a lot of difficulty.

You opened the passenger door with one hand, helping Minho in. He looked like he was on the verge of falling asleep, his mouth slightly open as he let out a soft snore. Chuckling to yourself, you patted his head before getting into the driver’s seat. You weren’t drunk enough to warrant calling a taxi, so you might as well save some money.

Tonight was...eventful, to say the least. 

Minho cracked one eye open slowly, watching as you drove. His eyes were burning, his throat aching. He hated feeling like this, he really did. He wished he hadn’t gotten this drunk. The alcohol and his sudden overflow of emotions did not mix well, and had ultimately resulted in him bent over the toilet bowl.

There was only one way to get rid of this fucking guilt. Minho wasn’t quite sure yet if he could go through with it, though.

There was a lot of thinking to do.

***

Chan stood near the counter. He couldn’t bring himself to move, his eyes unfocused as he replayed the scenes over and over in his head.

He couldn’t believe he’d done that. The one thing he’d told himself not to do. Don’t fall for her again. You got your heart broken once, why are you so eager to let it happen once more? 

Regret. It was on all three minds, tonight. 

[sunjaesol]

spill your soul on paper (keep it a secret)

to all the boys i’ve loved before au | juke | unfinished

💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 

“Molina!”

Flynn and her stopped short in their pathetic jog, frowning at the sudden exclaim. No one called her that, except-

Luke Patterson. What did he want? For the last years, he more or less steered clear of her because of the whole Carrie thing, which was stupid, but she hadn't been, like, mad about it. So what did Luke have to say to her right now, during gym of all places?

And then her eyes fell on his hand gripping the familiar blue paper. Her heart froze. Oh, fuck.

She finally processed his expression: confused, upset, maybe even a little angry. Gah! How did her songs - nay: love songs get out?! They were in her dreambox and never left!

“Hey Flynn,” he continued, unaware of Julie's inner meltdown. “Can I speak to Julie alone for a sec?”

Her eyes narrowed. “Depends. What're you gonna talk about?”

His face morphed into one of those charming ‘I can fool any teacher’-smiles. “About what an amazing DJ you are, obviously.”

Julie shot Flynn a desperate look and fervently shook her head. Don't go, don't go, don't go! She was going to die of humiliation if she did! Alas, Flynn shrugged, meaning that whatever he had to say was most likely harmless. Physically, yes. Emotionally? Total collateral damage.

“Well played, Patterson,” she teased. “Break my friend and I break you!” The latter was added cheerily as she fastened her steps, catching up to Kayla a quarter lap in front of them.

Julie found a moment to smile; at least she had a best friend like Flynn to keep her from being whisked away in the tides of high school drama… like now.

“So,” he said, noticing Julie kept her jog going and followed suit, the chains on his jeans jiggling as he did. “Any reason why you sent me a love song from when you were twelve?”

“I didn't,” Julie quipped, cringing at her own reply. She was a terrible liar. 

Luke blinked at her for a beat, looking even more like a confused puppy look than before. Which she used to find cute - ugh.

“Okay, uh, I'm flattered,” he stumbled, “like the song's cute and all, but I'm not interested.”

Withholding a retort that her tween songs could spin around his punk-rock gimmick any time with grace, she grimaced. “Well, yeah, me neither. That's not- it’s not real. Like I just wrote whatever.”

Something about that must’ve been amusing to him, as his smile became mischievous. “My ‘wide, green eyes’ that resemble the ‘meadow of your dreams’ is whatever? Julie,” he gasped, as if he were actually affronted. “I'm hurt.”

She rolled her eyes. Time to stop the embarrassment. “Just give it back.”

His cocky behaviour mellowed, seemingly also done milking out the non-existent drama, and finally matched her jog to give it back.

But then she crossed eyes with a speedwalking Nick coming closer and closer to the field... with blue paper clenched in his hand. If she didn’t look mortified before, she did now.

“Wow,” Luke puffed. “You okay? Looks like you've seen a ghost.”

She didn't hear him, shaking her head at the approaching boy. “No... No, no, no, no, no!”

“Uh…”

How did they get out?! All her life, these love songs have been her safe space, the sole outlet for whenever her feelings, her intense emotions, became too much. Without shame, ink would spill on the pages. Her heart got poured out and then, in the end, it was safe again. No boy could get to her, as there was nothing to come and get in the first place. It was hidden between the pages, for her - and only her - to revisit. And now they had it. 

Oh, no. Nausea coiled in her stomach. If Luke got one and Nick too, then the others...

And then it hit her. Nick. Her best friend. A love letter. Shit. Shit, shit, shit! She was not emotionally prepared to lose a friend today!

Everything went really quickly after that. So quick, that she hardly registered it herself. In the moment, it was a really simple plan for her brain. Make Nick think she wasn't interested in him, stay friends and all would be well. The only variable in the action was the confused boy right next to her. Damn, spontaneity was never her strong suit. 

One second later, Julie threw her hands around his neck, pulled Luke Patterson down to her level, and kissed him full on the lips. She hoped he tasted the apology on her mouth.

Luke hardly had time to react, completely dumbfounded, when she gently pushed him back and shot a glance at Nick. He was frozen, face shadowed by the looming trees and jaw slack.

“Damn, Molina,” Luke puffed. “If you wanted another round of spin the bottle you could've just asked.”

Unresponsive - too rattled that she just kissed him, that her most precious belongings were out - Julie sprinted away. Luke and Nick called after her, one more amused than the other, but she didn't look back. Feet pounded the ground until her heavy breathing tried regulating itself in the girls bathroom. 

What the fuck was happening? How did any of this happen? And did she really just kiss Luke freaking Patterson again? Gah! His ego would never calm down after this.

She could really use her mom right now. Then again, Rose Molina had been a certified bad ass. She'd probably tell her to keep her chin up and own it. ‘It's your feelings, mija. So what?’

But Julie wasn't Rose. She wasn't fearless. 

Her hands clamped against one of the sinks, eyes trained on the dirty tiles and scratched up mirrors. The cool air did her well. In, out, in, out. In-

In walked Alex Mercer. Awesome. Why not? Not like her day could get any worse.  

He cringed. “Is this a bad time? Cause-”

“Yeah,” she breathed, noting the distinct papers in his hand. “Love song. I know.” The blonde paused, unsure how to continue, and Julie had the opportunity to once more feel like an utter fool for ever thinking Alex was straight. Sue her! The boy had been very kind to her during the eighth grade formal and back then, Willie Reed didn’t go to their school yet. Her breath hitched. Was he offended? Hurt?

Whirling around, she exclaimed: “I know you’re gay! I just- I didn’t know… then…”

An awkward laugh erupted from his throat, slowly nodding. “Yeah… I, uh, I figured.” Another worried pause. “Are you okay?”

They weren’t friends, not in the slightest, but she really needed someone right now. “No,” she shuddered. “Those- the songs are private. They’re mine and they somehow got out. I don’t know how.”

Before he could reply, she quickly added: “Don’t tell anyone about this!”

His arms raised in defence. “No worries, Julie. I won’t. And I’m sorry they got out. I’ll make sure Luke doesn’t blab his mouth off.”

Julie froze. Shit. “He told you?”

The awkward expression turned amused. Right. Her eyes shut, wondering why she somehow forgot Luke Patterson and Alexander Mercer had been attached at the hip since kindergarten. God, she was a fool. 

“If it helps,” he commented lightly, “he was flattered.”

“No. It doesn’t.”

He shrugged. “Okay.”

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moodboards i made cause!! visuals!! yay!!

@blush-and-books​ @willexx​ @bluefirewrites​ @ourstarscollided​ @unsaid-emily​ @unsaidjulie​ @pink-flame​ @constantly-singing​

[jacepens]

Hey, how u doing? I wanted to ask for you for indications on washette fanfics, what are the best that you have

p.s. and yes, I do want to hear as well about yours in that list as well, 'cause they're gold

Hey! I'm doing alright:) Thanks for asking! What about you? (is this the correct tumblr to anon etiquette?)

Oh goodness this is such a loaded question because the answer is many. I hope you're alright with a big list sorted by category <3

Fluff! Fluff!!

The French Mistake

One of the first washette fics I read, so it holds a special place in my heart. A little silly, a little lams, ultimately very cute and good time.

Under the Arches of Moonlight and Sky

Just very good, cute, soft weary bed sharing. (this is only wholesome, I swear)

Let's Dance

Short, sweet fic with dance instructor George and our beloved two left feet Laf:)

I Like You Better in Real Life

Did someone say Influencer/Youtuber!Laf and President!George?? No??! Well start and read this fic. Seriously, it's a longer one, and just really damn cute. A bit of slow burn in terms of internalized homophobia (done in a good way) and trans Laf?? Yes. It's really so good.

The Prince

Ok, ok, it's one of mine. The one chapter is deceiving, it's decently long and featuring Prince!Laf and Royal Knight!George!:) Also magic!! angst, fluff, denial of feelings but then of course love confessions;) after angst though, don't worry haha.

Fathoms and Foundlings

Ooooohh boy. This. This one. Mermaid Laf and regular ol George! So so so well written, I mean, the feelings, the war, the weather, literally everything you can name, it's spectacular in this fic. Be warned, it is incomplete, but I remember when the latest chapter was released when I lost all hope (plus the author is still active) so I definitely don't count this one out of being updated!:) But, I'll be honest, I'm unsure about it being finished BUT I still think you should 1000% read this because you really will not find something like it anywhere else and it's just so cute!! Did I mention fucking amazing?

Whom can we trust now?

Platonic washette!! Really well written and just altogether really well put together!:) comfort after Arnold's betrayal! Seriously, I highly recommend this fic it's just so perfect of their relationship and cuuute.

The Particulars of Language

Oh goodness. Oooh goodness. This is so so cute. A nice little blend of angst and fluff and did I mention internalized homophobia? (In a good way, if that makes sense) Also so well-written by an incredible author, I just- language confusion. Need I say more??

Marque

Ok, ok, it's been too long since I read this one, so I will say, it is very tentatively going in this category. I just love soulmate au washette! Angst! Kidnapping? ...no final chapter. So I'm not sure, it could've been planned on ending very happy and fluffy! I do believe overall, this leans on the darker side, but I know I really love this one and they love each other. I want more washette soulmate aus.

Breaks your heart, puts it back together

what's my name, what's my station

Oh God oh fuck it's this one. (said with love). Brutal? Hot? Expanding my vocabulary?? An incredibly beautiful use of metaphors??? Actually feel like crying when I read it. Yeah. This is amazing.

May the Melody Disarm Us

Oh Godd oh Fuck it's this one. (maybe I should change this section's title) this one isn't even angsty per se, it's just like...brutally beautiful. They love each so much but oh my god. The metaphors, the way the author sets the scene and environment and everything! Ugh. So so good.

Let Down My Guard

Oh dear lord in heaven above preserve me. I'm gonna be dramatic but there are simply not enough words in the universe I have that can describe how I feel about this fic and how damn incredible it is!! And boy do I mean it when I say this one breaks your heart and puts it back together. I have seriously never sobbed over any piece of fiction like I did this. Just ahhhh. The feelings they develop for each other, the confusion of cultures, the secrets revealed?? I didn't even tell you Laf is a mermaid yet. Just- please. Please read this. It will rip your heart out, but it will put it back together. But really, this is just a fucking masterpiece and so so beautiful.

Porn With Plot

that dress you like

Very nicely done smut + feels! (Did I mention how nicely it's all done?) Oh! Did I mention genderqueer Laf? Yes.

Mon General / My Marquis

Ok the only reason this is going in this category is because I find the others up there more heart-breaky than this one. I love this one!! The historical details! Their loving relationship!! Very very good and lovely. With some angst of course.

The Mistranslation

Oh God oh Fuck it's this one. (I'll be saying that a lot). Would you like all these categories put into one beautiful fic?? Here it is, here. It's incredible. Please read it. It's free serotonin. (Did I mention incredibly written??)

The Things I Would Do to You

Ahhh ok. So. Super duper sweet, lots of angst sprinkled throughout but Laf's visit to Mount Vernon + feels + (smut). Need I say more??! Seriously, this is wonderful.

Not So Easy to be the Teacher's Pet

Oh. Oh god it's this one. So this is borderline Oof (Laf is 17) but if that does not bother you, then you are in for a treat!(??) Ok but really, lots of feels, denial of feelings, way-too-sweet-for-his-own-good Lafayette and poor confused George. Just fantastic.

Devil to Pay

Hoooo boy. If you like pirates or sea adventures, (hot pirate captains. I'm just gonna say it) then I'm literally begging you to read this. Kidnapped noble Laf?? Slowly falling for the pirate captain Washington?? Not to mention so many maritime details and wonderful emotions, beautifully crafted just. Spectacular. Please, read it if you haven't. Even if pirates don't appeal to you, they will after this fic.

A secret weapon

Ahhhh!!! Thiiiiiis. Is everything. Ok, yes, it includes more than washette, but I mean come on, it's (sexy) demons. It's desperate Washington trying to win a war and fight his gay feelings (guess which fight he wins?) But also, super well written and detailed and feels!! I adore this fic, and the whole series is a treat. Go read it. It's wonderful, you won't regret it.

Oof (not in a good way)

The Sweet Enjoyment of Partaking

If the not-so-sweet side intrigues you more, this is one of the few washette fics that I do love and is...not so nice. It's really good as a not nice piece! Pretty straightforward and fucked up. Ya (I) love to see it.

Transmutation

Oooohhhhhh. This is a fic I didn't read for a while just because I didn't know what it was but boy let me tell you, it is soo good. I'll say it's not as oof as the fic above, but oooh maaaannnnn. I don't know how to describe it just, don't expect sweet things, but if darker takes are your thing please go read this. You will not regret it. It's so damn good.

OW

Day One Way, By Night Another

Ok ok here me out. This one might seem a bit random and it is. It's very short and for the longest time I didn't read it until I did and said ow because ow!!? I find this has the most impact going in unarmed so...watch out. (but like check it out. it's just so unique I really do love it)

Once More, With Feeling

Oh GOD. This one is quite brief and straightforward but if you are looking to rip your heart out with feels and angst then boy do I have the perfect fic for you. But seriously, it's so well-written and just expresses all the feelings so so perfectly. But at what cost? (Pls read it)

A Beautiful Tragedy

Hello darkness my old friend. Ok but seriously, this fic still remains so impactful in my own mind just as the writer. It's not a happy ending, but I try to leave you with hope. Pretty music that I highly recommend listening to, I don't know. I think it's really good, I don't say that often about my own stuff soo if you're ok with heavy amounts of angst and pretty aesthetics then check this ok!:) (but guard your heart, sorry not sorry<3)

Porn Without Plot

Betrayals and Allies

So, admittedly, this one very tentatively goes into this category because I find compared to the others, this one has less feels and less focus on it, but don't get me wrong this is very emotional!! It displays their relationship and love so cutely (and smutily..? new word) and as extra bonus it fills in the gaps of the deleted scene from Turn. You know the one;) It's very good!!

Cold Nights

Look at me adding another of my own. This is super duper short, but I kinda like how the emotions turned out. I think this was the beginning of my first dive into my current style of writing so that's cool I guess? But yeah no, it's porn without plot lol.

What Good is Honor When You're Starving?

Oh dear, another of mine in this category. I barely put this here, but the main focus is on the smut, but there are many many feels aplenty. Oh wait, did I mention vampire Laf? George definitely not falling in love... but really, I like how this one turned out!:) Good sexy vampire times (with feelings)

Ah wow! You stuck with me! Thank you! I...tried to keep it brief. This is not an exhaustive list by any means btw, there were a few (many) I decided to cut because I wanted this list to be all encompassing of many authors, styles, etc.

But anon, thank you for the ask and giving me the chance to rant about my favorite fics! My apologies on taking so long to finish, I hope you can understand my life has been a little hectic, but I always try to make time for washette;)

Thank you!!<3