#Sorry am at the office and can't do read more from the phone :/

[hyprfixate]

a genetic disposition (to loving you) :: [BC x Reader]

read on AO3

summary: seeing chan at the genetic clinic when he told you he was too busy to hang out was one thing. noticing he was now significantly taller than he was a couple weeks ago was another.

learning he's been diagnosed with the werewolf disorder is something different entirely.

pairing: bang chan x reader

tropes: childhood friends to lovers, mutual pining, idiots in love, modern werewolf au, no transformations tho, chronically ill reader, reader has EDS (ehlers danlos syndrome), some angst, slight miscommunication trope

smut warning: masturbation (m), handjobs, blink-and-you-miss-it subby chan, voyeurism, pussy eating (x2), no actual ABO dynamics but that's not stopping Chan from calling himself Alpha, dirty talk, lots of begging, standing/wall sex, cumming inside AND cumming outside.

content warning: talks about being in pain, self deprecating talk, anxiety spirals, very brief internalized ableism, panic attack

word count: 21.6k

author's note: if you saw the three different attempts to post this, no you didn't. enjoy! <3

Chan was acting weird.

To be fair, he always acts weird. Weird might actually be his default. But this was a different type of weird– a weird that involved canceling plans last minute and making up flimsy excuses about why. 

Today, he was supposed to accompany you to your doctor's appointment. A simple, low stakes kind of hangout. You looked at your phone with a sigh.

Channie: sorry, can we do a raincheck for our hangout? not to sound like a fuckboy but something came up

Channie: i really am sorry babygirl. i'll make it up to you i promise. please tell me how it goes okay?

You let out a small huff of air. You would love to be annoyed, mad even, but at the end of the day, this is Chan, your best friend since elementary school. The guy who held you through heartbreaks and stressful semesters. The guy who memorized your ridiculously complicated Dunkin order. The guy who dropped everything to stay with you at the hospital a few months ago when things got really bad.

The guy you're secretly in love with.

Okay, maybe that was a minor and insignificant detail in the grand scheme of things. Either way, you can't be mad at Chan. 

You: don't worry channie. i'll be okay. I hope your stuff goes well ok? 

Channie: love u, good luck with your appointment, it's gonna be ok

Right. Your appointment.

You'd been having some increasingly bothersome and worrying symptoms for the better part of 2 years now. It started with a noticeable dull ache in your knees that wouldn't go away, reaching a peak now where there's not a single day you wake up pain free. The doctors were just as stumped as you were, and as sort of a last ditch effort, they sent you to a geneticist in the expensive part of the city. Thank goodness for adequate health insurance.

You were a bit nervous, which is why you asked Chan to come with you, but it wasn't that big of a deal. You've been to specialists before. 

Still, disappointment rises in your chest as you finish pulling your hair away from your face and securing it with a scrunchie before grabbing your essentials and heading out the door. You're more disappointed about the fact that he's not coming instead of what he's not coming to. You're getting a little weary and tired of the excuses and him bailing on plans. 

But then you think about the way his voice sounds when he calls you babygirl, and everything seems right again.

The trip to the geneticist office is long, and by the time you arrive, you feel the exhaustion in every joint. For such a high caliber place, it's decorated just as sterile and modern as you were expecting, with white walls and white furniture. When you go to check in, the receptionist hands you a tablet with various forms pulled up and points you to the waiting room.

You settle into one of the white waiting room chairs, balancing the iPad on your lap as you begin working through the forms. The questions start simple enough - name, date of birth, insurance information. Then they get more involved, diving into your medical history.

Have you experienced any of the following symptoms in the last six months?

The list that follows is daunting - joint pain (obviously), muscle weakness (sometimes), unexplained fatigue (who doesn't have that?), difficulty concentrating (depends on the day). You find yourself checking more boxes than you'd like.

Your mind drifts to Chan again. You wonder what was so important that he had to cancel. Usually, he at least gives you a concrete excuse, even if it's something silly like having to wash his hair or visit his parents. Today's vague "something came up" feels different. Worrying.

Before you can stop yourself, you pull out your phone.

You: this intake paperwork feels like the ending of a medication commercial

You: i’m surprised they haven't asked me if i or a loved one has been diagnosed with mesothelioma

The message stays on delivered for a while, longer than you expect. You give up on staring at your phone and turn your attention back to the paperwork.

After a ridiculous amount of questions and an even more ridiculous amount of signatures, you finish the preliminary stuff, heading back to the receptionist desk to hand her the iPad. She gives you a polite nod and smile and lets you know the nurse will be out in a second, so you can wait in the small chair by the double doors.

You're lost in thought, mindlessly scrolling through your phone when you hear the gentle sound of your name called. The sound makes you look up, tucking your phone away and grabbing your bag. A nurse stands by the double doors, clipboard in hand, wearing deep purple scrubs and a smile that somehow makes the sterile environment feel a little more human.

You push yourself up from the chair, joints starting their songs of protest after sitting still for so long. The nurse offers pleasantries that you respond to with your usual politeness. As you're walking towards the open door, you hear a beep and the whirr of an electronic lock unlocking. The closed side of the door swings open and–

There's Chan.

You both freeze mid-step, eyes wide and locked on each other like this is the first time you're seeing each other in years. It feels like it, but you did just see him last weekend at a mutual friend's birthday party. It was a fun night, but he was acting strange and dodgy then, too.

something came up.

You squint at him, not sure whether confusion or anger is winning the war in you right now. He opens his mouth once, twice– words are failing. The most he can do is let out a shaky, “Babygirl…”

You take that moment to really look at him. His hair is in its natural curly state, but significantly more messy than usual, wisps falling over and around themselves. His eyes are red and bagged heavily, and his shoulders seem like they're scrunching in on themselves. He hasn't looked like this since that night in the hospital with you.

Something is definitely wrong. 

The nurse clears her throat, and you remember you're being waited on. You motion wordlessly towards the nurse and he gives you a shaky nod.  

“I'll, um. I'll text you,” he mumbles weakly, holding the door open for you as you walk past. When you do, you can't help but look up at him, like way, way up. More than you usually do. You almost pause again– are your bone problems making you shrink, or is he somehow taller? Why does he look like that?

It's you who nods shakily this time, forcing yourself to tear your eyes away so you don't bump into a wall. It takes concentrated effort not to look back at him while you walk down the hallway, but somehow you manage.

The nurse brings you to an exam room and tells you to sit tight while she gets the vitals cart. You obey, still dazed and confused and maybe even a little hurt if you allow yourself to really feel it. Your phone buzzes less than a minute later, and you don't even have to guess who it is.

Channie: i'm so sorry.

Channie: i can explain. i promise.

Channie: i just.. i need some time before i can

Channie: im such a fucking idiot. i'm so sorry babygirl. please. 

There are a million and one responses in your head, each with varying levels of confusion or annoyance. But, among the haze, the image of his exhaustion floats back to you, and you find yourself folding.

As usual.

You: breathe, Chan. it's ok. 

You: whatever it is, we'll figure it out, yeah?

You: i do wish you told me but. it's okay. I can wait for an explanation.

Channie: you're so amazing. i don't deserve you. 

Channie: i'll call you when you get out ok? i love u

The nurse comes back with the vitals cart and begins prepping materials before you can respond properly, so you send back a heart and slip your phone into your pocket. When the blood pressure cuff tightens around your arm, you wonder if the nurse will notice how fast your heart is beating – though you're not sure if it's from anxiety or the way Chan's voice cracked when he called you babygirl.

Maybe both.

To his credit, Chan truly does make it up to you, in the form of an extended weekend away at his parents’ cabin upstate. The invitation, or request rather, comes a couple days after the geneticist incident while you're in bed feeling anxious over your test results.

Channie: picking u up thursday night, we're going to my parents’ cabin till monday

Channie: had plans?

If anyone else were to text you like that, you'd balk at their audacity. But because it's Chan, there's a growing heat in your face when you simply reply:

You: no plans. promise you won't bail?

He sends you a picture of his already packed duffel bag and backpack sitting by his door, then another picture of him and his laptop that's clearly pulled up to Google Maps. His eyebrow is raised, sinfully plump lips pulled into a smirk as he points at the screen.

Channie: give me some creditt

Channie: im already packed and the route is already planned

You giggle, feeling the perpetual knot of nerves in your chest loosen. A weekend away with Chan sounds like the perfect thing. It'll be a way to get your mind off the maybes and anxieties from your appointment, and a way to spend time with your best friend. 

A win-win.

You spend the next few days packing and gathering supplies for a weekend at the cabin, which isn't as simple a task as it sounds. Chan is adamant that you worry about nothing except getting your stuff together, so he won't tell you what he has planned or what to pack. After losing many back and forth arguments, you toss a little bit of everything in your small suitcase, leaving your backpack for entertainment and snack purposes.

Thursday creeps up slowly, then all at once. Unfortunately, you wake up to deep pain in almost all of your joints– even your fingers seem to be screaming with every movement. Getting ready takes longer than you want, but you push through, and it isn't long before you're sitting on your living room couch, waiting for Chan to let you know to come out. It was a wonder what large amounts of Ibuprofen could do.

You hear the familiar puttering of his engine before his text even comes through, the soft ding of your phone cutting through your apartment.

Channie: i'm here babygirl

Channie: coming up to help w ur bags 

A warm flutter runs through your chest at his thoughtfulness. You're not sure you'll ever really get used to it. 

You push yourself up from the couch, breath hitching when the movement causes a dull ache to radiate down the length of your legs. You pause, gripping the arm of the couch and squeezing your eyes shut for a moment.

It's fine, you reason with yourself. It's not that bad. You're fine.

You're thankful that you had the foresight to pack a suitcase instead of a duffle, at least this way you'll have something to bear your weight on while you walk.

Your jacket is slipped over one shoulder when you hear the buzz from your doorbell. Chan's smiling face greets you when you open the door, looking both insanely handsome and–

“Am I shrinking, or are you growing?”

He's leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed over his massive chest, which is somewhat concealed by the oversized sweater he's wearing. You want to scold him for such a light outer layer in the bitter late autumn, but your words get stuck in your throat as you find yourself tilting your head up further than usual to look at him.

And then you give yourself the pleasure of really looking at him.

His hair is its usual wispy, beautiful mess. He cards his fingers through it as he looks at you, smiling as though about to say something, when suddenly his smile drops, his eyebrows furrowed as he stands up straight.

“You're in pain.”

It’s not a question.  He's providing the information to you as fact. You blink in surprise.

“Yes, I am, but how did you–”

"I can–” He cuts himself off, looking uncertain for a moment before shaking his head. "I just know you, babygirl. You're not putting much weight on your left leg, anyway."

Hm. He caught you there.

“How bad is it?”

You finish shrugging on your jacket. “Um, maybe six out of ten. But I took medicine, I should be– Are you sweating?”

It's a stupid question, because he is, and you don't need a verbal response to confirm it. Sweat is beating at his temples and dampening his hair. Something flickers across his face, but then his expression is back to normal again. 

You watch him flip through a million different responses in his mind, but before he settles on one, he spots your bags next to the door and goes to grab them, slinging your backpack over his shoulder with profound ease. He's moving so fast and he's so jittery that you barely get a second to process everything.

“Chan,” you finally say when he whizzes past you again to put your remote back in the organizer. He pauses, back stiffening like he's a little kid again about to be scolded. He turns to you slowly. “Are you okay?”

You watch him take a deep, shuddering breath, his entire body seeming to expand and contract. The unnatural stiffness in his body seems like he's forcing himself to stay still, and you see his finger drumming patterns on his thigh.

You repeat his name, softer this time. “What's wrong?”

He shakes his head a bit too fast. “No, nothing, I–” He runs his fingers through his hair, pausing to grip the roots to ground himself to this moment. It works for a second. “I'm… okay. I can explain everything later babygirl, I just… I really just want to focus on spending time with you.”

There's a raw edge to his voice that makes your chest tighten. You study his face, taking in the exhaustion, the sheen from sweat, the way his eyes won't meet yours. Every instinct screams that something is wrong, but…

“Okay,” you relent with a sigh. It should be embarrassing how easily you fold for him. It should maybe even be studied. “But you promise that you'll explain?”

He deflates, eyes brightening with relief. “I promise. Chris-Cross my heart.” He punctuates his sentence by putting his hand over his chest.

You can't help the smile that takes over your face at that– the reference to the silly rhyme you'd made up when you were kids based on his English name. A bit of the anxiety in your chest loosens. “Now let's go before the traffic gets unbearable.”

You grab your keys and headphones, giving your apartment one last glance over before following Chan out of the door. By the time you finish locking up, he's already halfway to the elevator, his abnormally long legs quickening his pace. As you try to catch up with him, you can't help but notice his stature– how his shoulders seem broad under his sweater, how he just seems… more.

The elevator ride to the parking garage under your apartment building is quiet, but not uncomfortably. Chan is humming something under his breath, his increasingly restless fingers tapping out the rhythm on his leg. Despite all of it, you feel relaxed. No matter what's going on, this is still your Chan, your person. 

He tosses your bags into his trunk with an ease that perks your entire body to attention. When you go to pull open the passenger door, he beats you to it, adding a dramatic flourish as he holds it open for you.

Your heart almost jumps out of your chest.

In the passenger's seat is a small pink box with a label from your favorite bakery, alongside a nice variety of drinks in the cupholder. He's got a pair of fluffy slippers on the mat by your feet, too, and you can see on the dashboard he's turned the seat warmers on.

“Chan,” you breathe. Your heart is doing strange things in your chest, and you're either feeling extremely touched or about to pass out. “You didn't have to–”

“I wanted to.” You turn to look at him, and he's looking away, scratching the hair at the base of his neck. “Felt like an ass, you know, being so distant and weird. Needed to make it up to you.”

It's entirely unfair that he can just… say those things to you. He's your best friend, so of course he's affectionate– that's just how he's been since you met in third grade. What started with bringing extra GoGurts and tying your shoes when you broke your wrist has just now turned into spoiling you with cabin vacations and things you mention offhandedly that you like. 

No biggie.

He nudges you in the car playfully, making some lighthearted joke about him getting too soft on you. You can barely hear him over the thrumming of your heartbeat in your ears, choosing instead to follow his movements in the rear view mirror. You watch as he pauses by the trunk, carding a hand through his hair and taking a big breath, before eventually making his way over to the driver's seat. He tosses his phone to you, effectively putting you on music duty, and then you're on the road in a matter of minutes.

Time with Chan is always easy. You talk about any and everything for the first hour of the drive, including his job, your lack thereof, and your appointment, and he listens to every detail carefully. 

“So, they think it's a collagen issue?”

You nod, wiggling your feet in your new slippers as you shift your position. “They aren't entirely sure, but they're looking at collagen based connective tissue disorders, like Ehlers Danlos and Lupus. They think that could explain the other issues too.”

He looks contemplative as he peers around you to the mirror by your door, trying to merge into the next lane. “Are you scared?”

You shrug, body moving with the car. “Its.. complicated. On the one hand, it would be scary to receive a life changing diagnosis. On the other hand–”

“You're just happy to have answers.”

You nod again, taking a sip of the caramel latte he bought for you and wincing as you shift again. Long drives are always hard, but paired with the changes in the pressure as the two of you drive further into the mountains, your joints feel like they might disintegrate.

“Scale of one to ten?”

You blink. Chan hadn't taken his eyes off the road, so how could he have seen you shifting? You open your mouth, prepared to lie, but he glances at you with a single eyebrow raised. You sigh.

“Maybe a six,” you breathe.

“So the Ibuprofen didn't help?”

“It did, it's just wearing off.”

You put the latte back in the cup holder, using your hands to bear your weight as you try to find a comfy position to sit in. 

“What do you need, babygirl?”

You fight the shiver his voice sends down your spine. “Nothing. Well– I don't know. Maybe a nap? Is that okay?”

“‘Course it is. Here.”

With sinfully dexterous fingers, he reaches across your lap to recline your seat for you. You let him, body going still as his strong forearm helps ease you back with the chair. When you're comfortable, he reaches behind him to the floor of the backseat, fishing around until he produces–

“Is that your couch blanket?”

His answering grin is soft. “The one you've been threatening to steal? Yeah. Maybe.”

He drapes it over you skillfully, with you having to do very minimal adjusting. The familiar, homey smell of his apartment– warmth and something else very distinctly Chan – floods your senses and wraps you in the warmest hug. It feels like coming home.

You adjust yourself again, sleep wanting to come now that you're cozy, but the dull ache in your legs doesn't want to let go. Without warning, Chan's free hand slips under the blanket and finds the knee of the leg that hurts with amazing accuracy. His hand feels blazing hot through the fabric of your sweats as he rubs his thumb in soothing circles. 

“This okay, yeah?” he asks, his low voice a soothing sound to your ears. Words are caught in your throat, so you can only nod, but you don't miss how the pain starts to dissolve by his touch. You also try very hard not to think about how big his hand is on your knee.

“Get some rest, babygirl. I got you.”

The combination of his gentle touch, the music, and the smell of his blanket is making your eyelids heavy. As you finally drift off, a contented smile pulls at your mouth because no matter what, this is where you're meant to be. 

This is home.

Chan wakes you up about half an hour before you're expected to arrive. However, paired with delays, the pitch blackness of the mountains, and the general unrestrainedness of Murphy's Law, you were only now getting to the cabin at just past 1am. 

The cabin is beautiful, as always. It's nestled amidst a thick grove of evergreen trees, and its tall, warm wood exterior seems inviting even at the ungodly hour you two arrive. As he swings the car onto the gravel driveway, the headlights illuminate it, like it’s a secret just for the two of you.

“Cabin sweet cabin,” he murmurs as he kills the engine. He picks his phone up from the cup holder and gives it a few flicks, then suddenly the porch lights come on. You give a little stretch in your seat, your joints feeling pleasantly loose and mostly pain free– the nap worked wonders. 

The two of you pile out of the car, the fresh mountain air filling your nostrils. It smells like pine needles and freshwater, with an undercurrent of something wild and electric, like the air before a storm.

“Is it supposed to rain?”

Chan barely hears you, his antsyness now back full force. He's got both of your backpacks and his duffle bag slung over his shoulders, and he goes to grab your suitcase, but you appear by his side and pull it away from him. He blinks down at you, seeming surprised to see you there.

You tilt your head to the side. He still looks sweaty, and from where you're standing, it still seems like he's radiating an insane amount of heat. His breaths are labored, and you find yourself reaching over to rub your thumb over his hand. However, once your hands connect, he jumps and pulls away like you've shocked him.

At your hurt face, he tries to backtrack. “Static,” he supplies weakly. You say nothing, and the tips of his ears turn bright red. “Come on, let's get you out of the cold.”

You try not to jump to conclusions. At the end of the day, if something is really bothering him, if something is really wrong, Chan will tell you. He has always been the brooding type, but there is but so long he can keep things from you.

Still, no matter how much you try to take things at his pace, you keep seeing his face at the clinic: the deep bags under his eyes, the messy hair. The last time you looked into those eyes and saw that same pain, you were in a hospital bed hooked up to more monitors than you could count.

Chan had been brooding then too, refusing to leave your side, asking the doctors all the right questions, keeping your parents up to date when they had to go back home. You remember one night in particular, when you were chalk full of pain meds and falling asleep under the whirr of an oxygen mask, he'd stood at your bedside and rubbed his thumb over your forehead to soothe you. You couldn't speak, too exhausted and in pain to move in any capacity, but you didn't need to. He spoke to you the entire time about everything and nothing, switching his  murmuring to quiet comforts when you started to cry. Just before sleep took you under, you met his eyes– his exhausted, red rimmed eyes– and he gave you the softest, most tender look.

“We'll get through it, babygirl,” he had murmured. “You're gonna be okay. You'll come home.”

You did come home, of course, but that's when things became different. Chan was distant, constantly canceling plans, avoiding you.

You shake the memory from your head as you watch him fiddle with his keys in the lock. This weekend was meant to be about the two of you having fun. You could worry about everything else later.

Chan flicks on the overhead light in the living room area and the room floods with warmth. Everything looks just as familiar and homey as you recall.

Before you can take a good breath, he's got your bags and suitcase and is bounding up the stairs with them like they weigh nothing. You choose to busy yourself with getting comfortable, peeling off your coat and hanging it on the nearby hook.

You're tugging your hair back into a ponytail when he comes back down, and when you look up and spot him the scrunchie flies across the room.

He's taken off his hoodie, leaving him in a fitted white tee that does nothing to hide just how different his body looks. It's no secret that Chan works out, but he fills out this shirt like it was painted on him. You quickly pull your spare scrunchie from the other wrist to tie up your hair, trying not to dwell.

"Do you want me to put these in the kitchen?" you call out, holding up the bag of road trip leftovers.

"Yeah, just–" his voice cracks, and he clears his throat. "Just throw them on the counter. I'll organize everything later."

You pad into the kitchen, bare feet silent on the wooden floors. Everything is exactly as you remember it – the mismatched mugs in the cabinet, the worn wooden spoons in the ceramic holder, the string lights Chan installed last summer that give everything a soft glow. If you close your eyes, you could almost pretend nothing has changed.

Almost.

You find, unsurprisingly, that the cabinets and fridge are stocked full. Chan's parents likely came out to pack up some groceries when he told them you'd be coming. You find yourself leaning against an open cabinet, staring into space, your mind a million miles away.

"You okay, babygirl?”

You jump slightly – you hadn't heard him come up behind you. He's standing in the doorway of the kitchen, running his hands through his hair again, that restless energy still evident in every movement.

"Yeah, just..." you gesture vaguely around you. "Memories, you know?"

His expression softens, and for a moment he looks exactly like your Chan again. "Yeah, I know."

The moment stretches between you, comfortable and familiar, until your stomach decides to break it with an embarrassingly loud growl. Chan's laugh is startled but genuine.

"I don't remember that.” He jokes. “Hungry?"

You feel your cheeks heat. "Yeah, I think so.”

He starts rolling his sleeves up. “I could probably make some eggs and toast, if–.”

“It's one in the morning,” you scold him gently. “Nobody is cooking.”

He gives you a pout, which is comical considering his current stature, but you still feel a tug in your chest. “But–”

You shake your head, turning away from him so you don't relent. “No buts. We have tons of snacks. Help me find something.”

At your request, the two of you rummage through the drawers and cupboards. Everything either requires too much effort or won't agree with your stomach at this ridiculous hour. You're ready to call it quits and sleep for dinner when a lightbulb goes off in your head.

“Oh, can I have one of your protein bars? You always buy the good kind.”

His smile is soft, dimples catching the light in a way that makes his entire face seem like a dream. “Of course. They're in my backpack, next to the couch.”

You slide your way to his bag with an excited pep in your step. Chan, being who he is, always buys the amazingly expensive protein bars that manage not to taste like chalky disappointment. They're surprisingly filling, and you know they'll settle your stomach without causing a stomach ache.

You find his bag quickly in the low light of the room, squatting down to rifle through it. With your hand in the front pocket, you dig around until your fingers find something that feels like the protein bar box. In your hungry haze, you yank it out without thinking.

It is not the protein bar box.

Instead, it's a thick packet of paper. You go to put it back when the letter head of the genetic clinic you visited catches your eye, along with the words “After-Visit Summary”.

Maybe if your heart wasn't thrumming in your ears, you would've heard his panicked footsteps coming after you. But the only thing in your ears is the erratic beating of your heart, one that only gets worse when you turn the packet over and read the small words on the margin:

You were seen today for: Hormonal Changes. The following issues were addressed: Genetic Lycanthrope Syndrome (Werewolf Gene).

You hear your name through the roaring in your ears. It's a soft, tentative sound that cracks around the edges. You turn, slowly, to see Chan almost right behind you, his face drained of all color and his eyes blown wide.

“Chan,” you breathe. You turn a bit more towards him, the packet still gripped in your hand. “What–”

"I can explain," he says quickly, desperately. His hands are shaking. "I was going to tell you, I swear, I just– I needed time to–”

He trails off, looking around the room as though looking for someone to help him.

Genetic Lycanthrope Syndrome.

You came across this condition when you were researching the clinic, as they mentioned that they were the only place in the area that had the facilities to test for it. It was, as the paper put it, the werewolf gene. People with the condition experienced heightened senses of smell, increased strength, sensory sensitivities– they were werewolves, just without the whole full moon transformation thing.

To say the condition was rare was an understatement. Both parents had to be carriers for the trait, and even then it only occurred in 25% of those births.

And Chan happened to be one of them.

Everything clicks into place now. The sudden growth spurt, the feverishly hot skin, how he knows when you're in pain without you saying a word.

“This is why you were at the clinic,” you say softly. It's not a question.

He nods jerkily, still looking like he might bolt at any second. You stand up to take a step toward him and he actually backs away.

“Don't,” he breathes. “I'm… I don't want to hurt you.”

“Hurt me?” You almost laugh. “Chan, you're not going to hurt me. How could you think that?”

“No, you don't understand,” he cards his hands through his hair, pausing to tug on the roots. “I can't… I don't know how to control myself yet. I'm different now, I'm–”

“Still Chan.”

The sound he makes is painful. “You can't say that,” he breathes. His hands drop to his sides again. “You don't know what it's like.”

“So tell me," you urge. You move as though you're about to take another step towards him, and your heart drops at how his entire body flinches. “Chan. Chris. Christopher. Look at me please.”

The use of his full name does something to him, and you watch as he settles, eyes drifting over to you slowly. His gaze is intense, and in the dim light of the living room, you feel akin to a deer staring down a wolf, no pun intended. 

It does not frighten you the way it should.

“Talk to me, please,” you beg. “You're my best friend. I'm here for you, always.”

“I can smell when you're in pain,” he grits out. It's not what you're expecting to hear. He clenches a hand into a fist, then lets it go. “You usually smell sweet, like caramel and linen. But then your scent gets an undercurrent of something harsh, like burnt sugar and metal, and I… I feel like–”

He lets out a shuddering breath, closing his eyes as he cuts himself off. “I can't control my strength. I've broken so much shit around the apartment. Don't wanna touch you. Don't wanna break you.”

“You won't hurt me.” You take the opportunity to get closer, but he must smell the closing distance because his eyes fly open. You're in front of him before he can move. “Do you know why?”

Chan's breaths are ragged and labored. “Why?”

“Because you're still my Chan. Still the guy who's been taking care of me since elementary school. Still the person I trust most in the world."

His breath hitches. "How can you say that? How can you just... accept this?"

You can't help the small laugh that escapes. "Chan, I'm literally at the same genetic clinic getting tested for a collagen disorder. Did you think I wouldn't understand what it's like to have your body change in ways you can't control?"

That seems to catch him off guard. He turns away, a frown tugging at his lips. "That's... that's different.”

“Is it though?” You pretend to be thoughtful. “Last I checked, it's like both of our bodies are changing in ways we don't understand. Like we both have to navigate a new normal.”

"That's exactly why I–" he cuts himself off, running both hands through his hair. "I can't risk hurting you. Not when you're already..."

"Already what?" You challenge, taking one final step. You're close enough now that you have to tilt your head back to look at him properly. "Already broken?”

His face twists up like you've punched him in the stomach. “No! God, no. When you're already going through so much.”

“A lot of what I'm going through is a waiting game, Chan– waiting for test results, waiting for appointments at specialists. You don't have to keep things from me because of that.”

You poke him in his side, trying to lighten the mood. “Besides, this? Finding out you're a werewolf–”

“The correct term is Lycanthropy Syndrome–”

“-- This is the kind of stuff that keeps me grounded. Having other things to think about. Having you around.”

You watch the tension slowly bleed from his shoulders, almost as though he's deflating. There's obviously more he isn't telling you– you can see it in the way his eyes still can't seem to meet yours– but you don't push it. He's already said so much.

“So,” you start. You rock back and forth on your feet. “Can I make werewolf puns now?”

He rolls his eyes. “Absolutely not.”

“Are you pawsitive?”

He groans at that, a smile pulling at his lips despite himself. “You're the worst. I'm gonna leave you here and go home.”

But he's laughing anyway, his usual giggle that makes everything seem like it'll be alright. You beam at him. and your body lights aflame when he smiles back down at you softly. The two of you hold eye contact for a second, and you watch something untraceable flash in his eyes. Before you can even process it, he's looking away again and clearing his throat.

Another silence falls between you, but this one is different. Chan is fidgeting again, his fingers drumming against his thigh in that restless way you've noticed all evening. He's looking everywhere but at you, and you can practically see the wheels turning in his head.

"What is it?" you ask softly.

He opens his mouth once. Twice. Three times– words seem to be failing him again. You raise an eyebrow and he sighs, a sheepish smile on his big stupidly handsome face.

"Can we..." he starts, then stops. Starts again. "Would it be okay if we... like we used to..."

You wait patiently as he struggles with the words. His ears are turning red again.

"Can we share my bed?" he finally gets out in a rush. "Like– like when we were kids? Just for tonight. I just... I haven't been sleeping well since everything started and I… um…”

Your brain short circuits as the request processes.

Share… a bed. With Chan. Taller, wider, more muscular Chan. Chan whose body heat seeps through every layer of clothing. Chan whose one hand can cover your knee easily. 

From the way your body reacts, your knee jerk reaction is to say no. He's already going through enough, and Lord knows what types of degenerate scent you'd be giving off if you spent an entire night with him.

But when you open your mouth to decline, you notice how he's standing, with his shoulders curved inward, trying to make himself smaller. His big brown eyes are pleading, almost desperate, and you think about how scared he was earlier, how convinced he was that you'd reject him once you knew the truth.

Fuck it.

“Of course, Channie.”

The smile on his face is nervous, like he expects you to change your mind any second. “Yeah?”

You nod, ignoring the way your brain tries to supply you with images of everything you want to have happen. "Yeah. Just... let me get changed first?"

He nods quickly, that restless energy back but different now – excited rather than anxious. "Yeah! Yes. Your stuff is in your room, yeah? I'll be in mine when you're ready."

He's bounding up the stairs before you can say anything. You take the moment alone to take a deep breath. You can do this. It's just Chan. Just your best friend.

When you reach your room, you duck into the attached bathroom to change quickly, opting for the full top and bottom PJ set rather than the oversized hoodie you were originally going to wear. You stare at your reflection, willing yourself to calm down and look normal.

Sharing a bed with Chan is not a new concept. When you'd first gotten close in grade school, the two of you tended to hop from house to house, sleeping wherever without a care in the world. The habit continued as you grew up– in college during study sessions, during movie marathons on school breaks, that one time a few months ago when you'd gotten terribly drunk at your friend Jeongin's birthday party. It had never been anything more than two friends seeking each other's comfort.

You catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror again, face flushed and breathing ragged. You force yourself to calm down– if Chan could smell when you were in pain, he could probably smell the indecency coming off of you in waves. 

Everything is fine.

When you reach the doorway of the master bedroom, Chan is already in bed scrolling on his phone. You watch his nostrils flare for a second, eyes fluttering shut as he puts his phone on the night stand.

The king sized bed looks both too big and too small.

When he opens his eyes, he looks surprised to see you. and you watch red start to tint his neck. “Um. Hey,” he breathes.

You hover in the doorway, suddenly hyperaware of every inch of space between you. "Hey."

Chan shifts, pulling back the covers on what has always been 'your' side of the bed “Um. Do you want... I mean, we usually..." He trails off, looking everywhere but directly at you.

You take the initiative and move towards the bed, sliding down under the covers until they reach just under your chin. Chan shuffles next to you, scooting this way and that, flipping like a hot dog on a stick. You both settle on your back eventually, staring up at the ceiling.

“This is weird,” he says after a few minutes of strained silence.

“Not weird,” you supply. “Just… different.”

“Different…,” he murmurs. “Different because I'm different?”

You almost laugh. “Chan, what? No–”

He's sliding out from under the covers before you can finish. “I'm sorry, I shouldn't have– this was dumb to ask.” You ignore the way your heart drops. “I'll go sleep in the other room. Or on the couch. Or–”

You grab at his wrist before he can go anywhere. He doesn't jerk away this time, but his entire body goes rigid. You rub your thumb along the pulse point on his wrist.

“You don't have to leave,” you say slowly. “It’s not weird because you're different. It's weird because we're both over thinking it.”

He lets out a little breath. “We are, aren't we?”

"Yeah." You squeeze his wrist once before letting go. He settles back down into the bed, still looking a bit uncomfortable, but not ready to run anymore. 

You smile at him before holding open the cocoon you made in the blanket. "Come here, you big baby."

"I resent that," he grumbles, but there's a smile tugging at his lips.

It takes some maneuvering to find a comfortable position. Chan is hesitant at first, careful not to crowd you, but eventually you manage to guide him until his head is tucked under your chin, his arm draped carefully over your middle. His body curls around yours despite the size difference, like he's trying to make himself smaller again. When he finally settles, it feels like every part of him is contoured to fit you perfectly.

You ignore the heat in your stomach.

The silence that settles around you is comfortable now, broken only by your breathing beginning to sync up. His body weight is grounding, and the heat he's radiating feels like the world's best heating pad. 

You're just beginning to doze off when Chan makes a low, displeased grunt in the back of his throat. You can feel his eyebrows scrunch together where he's pressed against your collarbone.

“Your hip,” he murmurs.

“Hm?”

He shifts in your hold, maneuvering you until his other hand can slide under your body to wrap around you. “Your hip hurts. Or it's about to start.”

Sleepiness has made you a pliant, barely conscious little thing. You're about to ask how he can tell when his big, warm hand presses against your hip, heat radiating through the fabric until it settles deep into your bones. You can't help but let out a little whimper from the immediate relief it gives you.

Chan makes another sound in his throat, grip increasing on you almost infinitesimally. 

“This good, babygirl?”

“Mmf.”

The warmth and relaxation is muddling your brain. “S'good, Channie.”

He makes a more pleased sound and nuzzles closer. Sleep takes you quickly after that, and all you can think about as you finally succumb is how lucky you are to have him here with you. You'd love to say as much, but you're too tired to open your mouth, so you give him the tiniest of squeezes, hoping he understands.

From the way his arm tightens around you, you think he does.

Things seem less charged in the morning.

You wake up to sunlight glittering through the curtains and the other side of the bed empty. The sheets are still warm, but given what you've come to learn about Chan and his temperature, he could've left the bed anywhere from three seconds to four hours ago.

You stretch a little bit as you try to wake up fully, heading to the other bedroom to freshen up for the day. It seems like an okay day pain-wise. You're at a steady three out of ten everywhere except your hands, but you brush it off. With the way you sleep, your hands take longer to catch up to the lower pain levels in the rest of your body. It's just a matter of time. 

Still, you run them under warm water in the bathroom, hoping to loosen them up.

When you finally emerge, you follow the mouthwatering scent of cooking down the stairs and into the kitchen. After a nonexistent dinner, you're starved, and you could really go for some food right now.

You pause in the archway of the kitchen.

Food is… an understatement.

Chan stands at the stove, spatula in hand and preparing to flip what looks like an omelette. All around him on the counters are various other breakfast foods: scrambled eggs, bacon, pancakes, hashbrowns, fruit–

“When did you have time to make a sourdough starter?”

He startles slightly, turning to face you with a sheepish smile. “Ah… good morning, babygirl. I may have.. gone a bit overboard.”

“A bit?” You slide into a seat at the edge of the kitchen island in the one spot where there's no food. “If you were planning to invite the woodland creatures you could've given me a heads up, I'd be decent.”

The responding huff makes you smile. “I cannot communicate with animals. Weirdo.” Chan grins. He folds the omelette in half and flips it over. “I just… I got hungry.”

You sneak a piece of bacon off of a nearby plate and snort. “‘Hungry’ seems like a gross understatement. Is this a side effect?”

Chan's ears turn pink as he plates the omelette. "Yeah, actually. My metabolism is... different now. Food tastes different too– more intense." He starts moving dishes to the kitchen island, careful not to overcrowd your space. "Everything is more intense, really."

"Like what?"

He hums thoughtfully as he settles into the chair next to you, close enough that you can feel the heat radiating off of him. "Smells are the biggest thing. Like, I can smell everything. The coffee brewing, the bacon grease in the air, the rain that's coming later–"

"It's going to rain?"

"Yeah, probably this afternoon." He passes you a fork and a plate you never noticed him constructing. "I can smell it in the air. What’s the word? Petrichor, but... before the rain actually falls? If that makes sense.”

You hum around a fork full of eggs, cracking the fingers on your free hand. “That sounds like it can get miserable. Is everything just… enhanced all the time?”

He takes a bite out of a chunk of toast, making a so-so motion with his hand. “It's enhanced all the time, but the way it is right now, the intensity, that’s only sometimes. Only during–”

He cuts himself off, swallowing his bite of toast with more power than necessary. 

“During the full moon?” You supply.

He nods quickly. “Yeah.”

There's a lull in the conversation that you try not to read into. It doesn't take much effort anyway, because you notice that eating is taking more effort than it was a few minutes ago. Your grip on the fork is weird, and you can't seem to close your fingers all the way around it.

That's fine, you think to yourself. You switch hands. Everything is fine.

You try not to let the revelation sour your mood. Chan mentioned it was going to rain, and while your doctors didn't know why you were in pain, they knew what kinds of things made it worse, and the air pressure changes from rain was one of them. This was just something you had to learn to deal with now.

Resentment for your condition rises in your chest with the little bit you've eaten, and you take a sip of apple juice to swallow it down. It's not fair. People your age were doing things like mountain climbing, running marathons, just living. And here you were, struggling to feed yourself and hold a fork.

It's fine.

A hand on your shoulder pierces through the dense clouds shrouding your mind, and you feel yourself startle a little. Chan is facing you, leaning his impossibly tall torso down to look you right in your eyes. His gaze is intense, gold flecks in his eyes swimming around as he stares.

“What hurts,” he breathes. The sound of his voice is light as a feather, floating through the air before coming to rest gently on your lips. 

“My hands.”

“Scale of one to ten?”

You think about saying your number, but upon remembering how nice and easy conversation was this morning, you decide to lie. “Four.”

The look in Chan’s eyes grows more intense, and you swallow around nothing. He levels you with a very unimpressed look, eyebrows creasing and his plushy, pink lips frowning. He only says two words, but they send a ripple through your body anyway:

“Try again.”

Fuck. You're giving yourself whiplash. Jumping from frustration to stark arousal was an Olympics level move your brain wasn't prepared for. There's a different kind of haze clouding your mind now.

“It's a seven,” you breathe. 

He's up on his feet before you can fully compose yourself, long legs taking him up the stairs and bringing him back down in a matter of seconds. When he sits down again, he's holding your decorative medication pouch and a mini water bottle from your backpack.

You gulp at the way the veins in his arm bulge.

“Which bottle is it?”

You come back to yourself, licking your incredibly dry lips before you respond. It takes a blink or two before you can orient yourself in the present. “Um, red bottle. The tall one.”

He places the bottle and water in front of you in a gentle way that contrasts the energy in the room. You fumble with the child proofing for a second before he plucks the bottle from you, undoing the lid with one hand.

Wow. Fuck.

"Thanks," you mumble, accepting the pills he tips into your palm. His hand moves from your shoulder to the back of your neck as you swallow them, and you try not to shiver at the contact.

“Do you need a nap while the pills work?”

You pout, finally coming back to your good senses. “We're supposed to have a movie marathon today.”

“I didn't realize the TV had a flight to catch?”

You glare at him, albeit thankful for the teasing sarcasm to loosen the tension. “You're not funny.”

Chan's lips pull into a smirk and he gives a little shrug. “I think I am.”

You roll your eyes at him as he stands, coming over to you and easing you out of your seat. He gives a little ‘tsk’ at your faux attitude, but his hands are back on your shoulders, guiding you towards the couch. When you finally do lay down, he's already throwing his signature couch blanket over you, tucking it around you securely.

“Comfy?”

You are, but you've also realized he's tricked you into a nap, so you do the adult thing and mock him before sticking your tongue out at him.

“Wow,” he murmurs. He slides down the couch and onto the floor. “I haven't seen that routine since 4th grade.”

You watch as he adjusts his legs a few times, his head resting against the armrest right by your fingers. It’s unspoken, but you know that he'll stay until he's sure you're asleep. 

"You don't have to sit on the floor," you murmur. "There's plenty of room up here."

He shakes his head. "Nah. I'm good here.”

You watch his side profile for a minute, basking in all of his Chan-ness. He settles in a bit more and lets his eyes flutter closed. When he does, he leans his head back a little more, and you watch the delicate bob of his Adam's apple as he swallows. 

“Chan?” Your mouth is moving before you know it. 

“Hm?”

“Were you scared? When you… got the diagnosis?”

His eyes open at that, and he turns his head so he can look at you. The intensity from earlier is gone, replaced by that familiar warmth that only he has.

There's a beat of silence where all Chan does is stare, almost as if seeing you for the first time. It passes, though, and then he goes back to his previous position, eyes closed again as he speaks. “No,” he says finally. “I wasn't scared. The only thing I thought about was you.”

“Me?”

He nods against the couch. “They kept talking about what it meant and all of that, and all I could think about was how on earth I was going to tell you.”

You reach a hand over and start rubbing at his scalp in the familiar way you've always done. “And yet,” you tease gently. “I had to accidentally find the papers.”

He makes a soft sound in the back of his throat, leaning into your hand. “That wasn't the plan,” he murmurs. “Was supposed to tell you properly.”

You stay quiet, continuing to play with his hair. The quiet domesticity is comforting, and you find your eyes fluttering closed too. 

You move your fingers through his hair in nonsensical patterns and shapes, occasionally letting your nails graze his scalp. His breathing evens out eventually--he's not sleeping, no, just content and peaceful. You're a different story, though, and medication induced drowsiness starts flowing its way through your body.

Your movements grow slower and uncoordinated, hand drifting lower, and lower, until eventually your fingers trail to the nape of his neck. When you drag your nails across the sensitive skin there, Chan makes a sound that shoots straight through you and straight to your core– something between a pleased hum and a growl that vibrates through his entire body.

Both of you freeze. Your heart starts doing gymnastics in your chest while the sound echoes in your ears, making your body grow hot. Beneath you, Chan is rigid, like every muscle has been pulled taut.

The room is entirely still for a second. Then, he clears his throat a little, shifting himself so you have better access. “Sorry,” he murmurs. “Keep going. Feels nice.”

You force your fingers to move again, continuing their exploration and tracing the curls on Chan's head. 

You repeat your mantra in your mind:

Everything is fine.

The moment passes like a summer storm– intense and fleeting– and soon Chan is relaxed again, practically melting under your touch. You're actively fighting sleep now but you're realizing it's a losing battle. Your movements become slower, less deliberate, until your hand is simply resting in his hair.

"Sleep, babygirl," he murmurs, voice thick and honeyed. "I got you.”

So you do.

When you wake up a bit later, you find yourself, sadly, alone.

In place of Chan's thick curls is the cold rectangular slab that is your cell phone. You squint at it sleepily, not remembering bringing it down with you for breakfast or having it on the couch. You flick through the unlock process, and when your phone opens, it's on the notes app.

Hi babygirl. If you're reading this, I went to the store. We don't have any vegetables. I'll try to be quick. - Channie

You wipe sleep from your eyes as you sit up, trying to orient yourself in your surroundings. You hear the steady whooshing of the rain outside and carefully flex all of your joints. You're content to find that you're at a steady three out of ten everywhere.

You settle back into the couch cushions, pulling the blanket around you tighter. It's not scary to be by yourself, especially not in the cabin,  but Chan's presence is definitely missed. You decide to fill the silence with television, something low stakes and stupid that you can listen to while you scroll on your phone.

However, the microscopic roku remote has decided to go missing, and after digging through the couch cushions twice, you sit back with a huff. You suppose your phone will do for now.

You open YouTube with the intent to watch one of your favorite Let's Play videos, but as you scroll through your homepage, something catches your eye. The title makes you pause:

Q&A: Genetic Lycanthropy Syndrome (aka The Werewolf Gene)

The algorithm strikes again, you suppose.

The video was posted a little over a month ago and has a substantial amount of views and comments. The creator themselves has well over 100k subscribers. It looks perfectly legit. Before you can overcomplicate it and talk yourself out of it, you press play.

“Hi everyone!” The guy on the video has a soft, smiling face, accented by round, thin-rimmed glasses. “Welcome or welcome back to my channel. If you're new here, I'm Seungmin, and I have GLS, which stands for Genetic Lycanthropy Syndrome. Or, to put it simply, I have the werewolf gene.”

You are immediately invested.

“I set up a question box on Instagram a couple days ago, and you guys really went to town.” Seungmin chuckles. “So I'll answer a few of those in this video.”

The first few questions are simple enough– what made him suspect he had it, the diagnostic process, how his family reacted. He answers every question thoughtfully and thoroughly in a way that makes you learn more than you thought you needed to.

You're writing down the fact that people with GLS tend to need more red meat than dark meat in their diet when he starts reading out the next question. 

“@jutdae asks, ‘how does the enhanced sense thing not drive you crazy?’” Seungmin lets out a little laugh. “So, the sense thing is kind of tricky for non-GLS people to understand. On a regular day, it might be enhanced, but maybe only 50% better than most people. The real issue is when rut or heat cycles start.”

You drop your phone, cursing when it slips right into the couch cushions.

“During a rut–” Seungmin's muffled voice continues as you fish around for your phone. “-- it's probably around 150% better. And our body temperature will skyrocket, like a constant fever type. The extra sensory input can cause a lot of restless energy too, so we're always feeling like we want to crawl out of our skin. Thankfully ruts, or heats for AFAB people, only happen once every three months, for about a week.”

You finally find your phone, heart pounding as you fumble to hold it still. The boy on your screen adjusts his glasses before continuing, entirely unaware how he's just flipped your life on its head.

“Well, that's for people who've presented for a while. When you first present with symptoms, you can get your rut every month. And that's… an entirely different type of intense. I surely don't miss that.”

Your brain might be oozing out of your ears.

You don't need to Google what a rut cycle is. You already know. It's the one aspect of GLS everyone is familiar with.

You scan through the events of the last 36 hours with unfathomable speed. It's all there. Every single symptom mentioned in this video. 

Extremely heightened senses. Restless energy. Fever-hot skin. 

Chan.

Chan hasn't been able to sit still. Chan's skin is hot to the touch. Chan keeps telling you when your pain is about to start because he can smell it. Chan brought you to an isolated cabin in the mountains.

Chan is in rut. Chan's diagnosis was only finalized less than a week ago. Ergo, this is his first rut.

The sound of a car door slamming makes you jump so hard that your phone flies away from the couch and skitters onto the floor.

Shit.

You scramble to grab it, swiping out of the video before Seungmin finishes answering what you're certain are other life changing questions. You can't hear anything he's saying, laser focused on the sound of Chan's impending footsteps and the sound of rustling grocery bags.

“Babygirl,” Chan's voice vibrates from the entryway. “I'm back. You awake?”

“Yeah,” you call, forcing yourself to sound steady. You clear your throat. “Yes, I'm up.”

You hear him put the bags down and toe off his sneakers, socked feet padding into the room where you are, undoubtedly, staring like a ghost came through the door and robbed you of your possessions. You fight to fix your expression into something normal, but all of that goes out the window when he steps into the threshold.

He's soaked. The rain has soaked through his shirt, making it cling to his chest and highlight every cut of his muscle. His curls are wild, some of them plastered to his forehead while others seem to be competing for the best pose. There's water dripping down his neck an–

You find a spot on the wall to look at instead. 

“Sorry I took so long.” He brushes his hair off of his face. “The store closest was closed, had to run way into town.”

“It's fine,” you squeak. He looks at you, eyebrows furred. “I was fine, just watched some YouTube. I wasn't up for long.”

He tilts his head, studying you with his nearly impossibly dark eyes. His lips push up, almost like he's pouting, but you watch as confusion takes over his gaze. He squints, and you burrow yourself further into the couch. If his smell is heightened, then he probably–

“You okay?”

You nod too enthusiastically. “Yes, of course. Why?”

He opens his mouth to say something, moves his body as though he'll take a step towards you, but he stops. You hold eye contact for a second, feeling small and exposed among his gaze. But then he nods almost imperceptibly, turning to grab his wet sweater from the entrance. 

“I'm gonna get changed and make us some lunch. Sandwiches?”

You nod.

“Good. Find us something to watch, yeah?”

As soon as he's gone up the stairs, you collapse back onto the couch, pressing your hands against your burning cheeks.

Okay. Okay.

You're probably– definitely – making this weird. Maybe you've read too many werewolf romance novels. Chan is going through something a lot more tangible than turning into a wolf and scampering off into the moonlight, and here you are, being a degenerate as usual. He brought you here because you're his best friend. Because he needs support.

The rut thing… is just a coincidence. Or maybe not even a big deal, or something he wants you to worry about. Yes. That's it. 

Distantly, you hear the shower turn on, and everything from your neck to the crown of your head lights aflame.

The remote chooses that moment to reappear, launching itself from the couch blanket and onto the floor. You snatch it up quickly, flicking on the TV and navigating to Netflix. You need something light. Something stupid. Something to fizzle out the charged energy in the atmosphere.

He'll handle himself… however that may be. You repeat this to yourself as you scroll through the comedy section, eyes blurring at the words in front of you. It's none of your business, anyway. You have one job right now, and that's finding something to watch.

You settle on a cooking show when you hear him coming down the stairs again. You focus on the TV, your mantra echoing around your skull as though you have no brain.

Everything is fine. You're fine. He's fine. 

“Worst Cooks in America?”

You nearly jump out of your skin. He's standing behind the couch, now wearing dry clothes– a zip up sweatshirt and loose sweats. You notice, entirely by accident, that there's no shirt under the sweater. Just plain, exposed skin.

Great. 

You hum out a noncommittal answer, just as he turns and heads to the kitchen, mentioning as he goes that he's using roast beef.  You listen to the sound of the fridge opening and the hum of the toaster as he plugs it in, no doubt solely to put your bread to toast, the same way you've eaten a sandwich since you were eight years old.

You can do this. You can act normal. You're an adult, and you have been for a few years. Things don’t have to be weird just because you now know that your best friend is a delicate, walking bundle of hormones. Chan clearly trusts you enough to have you here, and you're not going to mess that up by being a disaster about it.

You hear him humming in the kitchen, puttering about through the cabinets, the clink of plates on the counter. It's so normal, so Chan, that it almost makes you forget about everything else.

You shake your head, hoping to physically dislodge the memories of the noise he made when you were scratching his neck– the deep, rumbling groan that ran through your sleep-riddled body until stopping to wake you up where you're most sensitive. It was just a noise, you make noises all the time.

When he appears in the doorway with the two plates, all smiles and soft around the edges, you take a deep breath before returning the smile. 

You can do this. You can sit down next to Chan and watch the show and be normal. Everything is fine.

Probably.

… Maybe.

Everything is not fine.

The realization comes later in the night when the darkness from the storm bleeds into the darkness of late evening. It's nearing 10pm, and you and Chan are still seated on the couch together, now on opposing sides, still watching the same cooking show.

Or pretending to.

Chan seemed to be getting worse as the evening progressed. When he first came in from outside, he seemed calmer, less tense, but now he was sitting rigid, wound up like a toy no one would release. He was sweating an almost ridiculous amount, and the zip from his hoodie was pulled down to the middle of his stomach, exposing all the skin underneath.

His breaths were coming in short pants now. He had a steady grip on the fabric of his sweats, and you were almost certain that he'd tear a hole in them with the way he was grabbing them.

You weren't sure what to do.

You had tried nudging him with your foot gently a while ago, but when your skin made contact, he made another low sound in his throat that shot right up your leg and into your core. You pulled your foot away quickly, apologizing, making sure to press your knees together so the scent of arousal wouldn't reach him. 

And that was before he had started panting like… well, a dog. Now you weren't sure you'd be able to reach him through the fog of his own mind even if you screamed right in his face.

You're about to try saying something, anything as the episode that was playing ends, but he shoots up off the couch before you can think of words to say. He's pressing the palms of his hands into his eyes, visibly shaking with the effort of breathing normally.

“Chan,” you start.

He holds up a hand. “I'm– I'm okay,” he breathes. 

He's not. 

“The rain, I think,” he grits out. “Too loud. Too much. You're okay, though?”

Of course Chan would find the time to check on you while going through his own crisis. You sit up a little on the couch, staring at him even though he has his eyes covered. The words are coming out of your mouth before you can even think about what you're saying: “Do I smell okay?”

He grunts. You suddenly understand why cavepeople had so many kids. 

“Smell fine,” he breathes. He slides his hands down his face, fixing his gaze away from you. “You do, I mean. You smell good.”

It dawns on you then that maybe the newly awakened wolf-like part of his consciousness is reacting to your smell because you're a girl, and he's in a rut. Maybe you should leave the room, give him some space?

You're trying to find a way to ask if that's what he needs without giving away what you know, but he fiddles with the zipper of his hoodie again, wanting to tug it down some more. He stops, takes a deep breath, and then drops his hand.

“I think I need a second,” he says. His hands are twitching at his side. “Need my room. Need the quiet, yeah?”

You nod. That's fine. It's for the best anyway, right?  “That's okay. You can come back when you're ready.”

He nods, still not looking at you. There's a moment where he seems to hesitate, but whatever internal war he's having ends quickly, and he basically runs up the stairs. Just before you hear his door close, you hear the sound of his hoodie zipping down all the way.

Heat floods your face as you turn back to the show.

After a while of still failing to really pay attention, you pull your phone out from under the blanket. Despite the pure, unfiltered desire thrumming through your veins, you still want to help Chan. It's bothering you how bothered he is, how helpless he seems. There has to be something you can do for him.

You type, How to help a werewolf in a rut into your search bar, and after realizing very quickly that that's actually the title of an erotica series, you change your search to something more medical sounding.

It takes trial and error, but GLS and Rut Cycles Help seems to give you the best results.

You find a forum on a website dedicated to rare genetic disorders. It’s the one link that seems to have real information, ironically nestled between a fanfiction website and Twitter. 

You stop on a thread that catches your attention:

Non-GLS Roommate Here: Any way I can help with heats?

Not in that way, they write. But my roommate just presented with this disorder and she's absolutely miserable, and I feel so bad. I'm not trying to fuck her, but is there anything I can do to help?? Meds? Chocolate?? Leaving her alone??

There are only a handful of responses, mostly people lol-ing about how non-lycanthropes always think a heat cycle is like a period. One answer sticks out to you:

if it's her first heat, she's probably running a pretty high temp. make her some cold drinks to bring the temperature down and the hormones may follow. that used to work for me. ideally, try to convince her to take a cold shower, but her instincts might be telling her not to. it's a delicate game lol. don't press the shower thing if you don't want her to bite. like, literally. AFAB lycanthropes have a thing for biting idk

It makes sense now why Chan looked better when he came in from the rain. It was, essentially, the cold shower that he needed. You wonder briefly if you could convince him to go back out, but you decide against it. It's dark now, and you don't need him getting hurt.

So, instead, you peel yourself away from the couch and head into the kitchen. There's tons of juice cartons already in the fridge, but you bypass them, instead grabbing the bag of lemons and the carton of blueberries. 

The first time you made lemonade for Chan, the two of you were in fifth grade. You wanted to save money for the new and extremely expensive ride-on jeep that you saw in the store, and the only thing you could think to do was sell lemonade. You forced Chan (who had no interest in the car but wanted to help anyway) to sit down and taste batch after batch of your lemonade.

After he threatened to tell your parents you were trying to poison him, you made one last batch of the lemonade, and on a whim, dumped some blueberry syrup into it. He grumbled as he took the cup, but he couldn't hide his satisfied smile.

“That's the one,” he grinned. 

You never did save the money for the car, but you kept the lemonade recipe anyway. There was nothing your blueberry lemonade couldn't fix.

And you were prepared to add rut fevers to that list.

You dump a ton of ice in Chan's reusable water bottle before pouring the lemonade over it, putting the top on and swirling it around. You take a sip first, nodding in contentment when it nearly freezes the back of your throat.

With your phone in your back pocket and the lemonade in hand, you make your way up the stairs, pausing in front of Chan's bedroom door. A feeling of nervousness washes over you, but you beat it down with a stick. You're just delivering some lemonade. You'll be fine.

“Channie,” your voice is tentative as you knock. “You okay? I brought you a surprise.”

You listen carefully. You can't hear anything on the other side of the door. You don't wanna bang or yell, knowing his ears are probably sensitive already. You knock gently again, really straining your ears to hear.

He must be asleep, you think. You'll just leave the cup on the nightstand for him to find when he wakes up. You turn the doorknob and push open the door and–

Subsequently drop the cup on the floor.

Chan is not asleep.

Chan is very much awake.

He can't see you, no, because his eyes are closed and his head is tipped back against the headboard of his bed. His face and ears are red, and his lips are extra plump. You wonder why until he bites down on his bottom lip, hard.

You let your eyes trail down. He's touching himself.

Oh.

One of his hands is wrapped around his cock, pumping furiously like it's just not enough. The other hand is white knuckling the pillow you slept on last night, bringing it up to his face so he can no doubt inhale whatever leftover scent is on it. 

He has no idea that you're in the room. The pillow is already carrying your scent, so there's no intrusion to his senses. You should look away. You should go, you should…

You can't look away.

His hips are thrusting upwards to meet his hand now, his entire body writhing on the bed like he's trying to find the perfect spot. With his sweater open, you can see the contraction of his ab muscles as he moves, all the hard contours of his body chasing his pleasure. You watch as he twists his wrist, thumb sliding across the slit of his cock and smearing precum down the shaft. 

You hear him make a sound, almost like he's grunting, and then he's mumbling something under his breath. It's low, too low for you to really hear it, but when he speaks again, you definitely understand.

"Babygirl," he groans. He squeezes his cock at the base before stroking it again. "F-fuck, babygirl."

It's then that you squeak, slamming a hand over your mouth almost immediately. His eyes fly open and he shoots up, face panicked, but he doesn't stop moving his hand.

"I'm-- I'm sorry," you manage. "I came to-- I just-- Oh my God."

Chan's eyes are wild as he looks at you. His chest is heaving and his curls are sticking up all over the place. He looks pained and conflicted, likely warring within himself about whether he should stop or not. From the way his ears turn a deep shade of red, you can tell he thinks that he should.

He doesn't, though. He's still jacking himself off, faster and faster, even as he gives you a devastatingly desperate look.

"Fuck," he grunts. "I'm sorry. I can't-- you just smell so fucking good and I–” He pants, looking at you with eyes that can barely stay open. “I can't stop. Babygirl, make me stop."

Your brain is malfunctioning, but the part of it that can still process information has taken notice of what he's saying. You were right earlier. It's your smell. Your smell is driving him crazy because you're a fertile, childbearing aged female. It's not poorly contained last or a bad decision on his part.

It's biology. It's what that primal part of his brain needs.

Your body goes hot as you think of your next words.

"You..." you swallow around nothing. You're wearing socks, but the cold from the floor seems to seep into your feet. "You don't– um. Do you… need help?”

His pupils blow.

"I don't… I don't want to hurt you," he whines, chest heaving as his fist pumps faster. "You shouldn't."

"But I want to help," you breathe. You take a step closer to the bed, legs shaking from the sheer intensity of how fast your arousal hits. "What if I want to help?"

He stops then, staring at you with the same intensity he had last night. You feel stripped, exposed, but you don't feel unsafe.

You take another step closer.

"Chan," you whisper. You're at the foot of the bed now. "What if I want to?"

He makes a desperate noise in the back of his throat.

"I won't… touch you if you don't want me to." You take another step to the side of the bed, feeling somewhat bold under his gaze. "But I'll... I'll let you touch me, if you need. Whatever you want. Just... just tell me what to do."

You're only a couple steps away now. Chan is practically shaking with the effort it takes not to move, to wait for your permission. It's then that you realize he's waiting for you to make the first move, and all of the power shifts to you.

You're standing right next to him now, the two of you locked in an intensely heated gaze. He reaches for you silently with the hand not fisted around his cock, moving slowly like you'll dissolve if he's too eager. When you nod, his hand slides down the length of your arm, fingers interlacing.

Then–

"Please," he whispers. His voice cracks on the lone syllable. "Please, babygirl. I need you.”

He brings the hand he's holding over to his already throbbing cock, dragging your fingertips over the sensitive skin on his tip. His head rolls back again and his hips buck up. You try not to shiver.

"I just... I just need this," he breathes. "Please. I won't touch you, I'll be good."

Maybe it's the desperation in his voice. Maybe it's the way his eyes look so innocent, absolutely contrasting what he's begging you to do. Whatever it is, you let your tongue dart out to wet your lips, throat feeling incredibly dry as you stare down at him.

You wrap your fingers around his cock tentatively, not missing the way his body seems to come alive at your touch, and start moving up and down. He's already so hard, his entire shaft coated in his precum so you can slide up and down with ease. The sounds he's making are going straight to your core, and you can feel the way your underwear is sticking to you.

"Tight," he grunts. "Tighter, please."

You tighten your grip, speeding up a little bit. You feel him thrusting upwards to meet your hand, his hand squeezing yours like he needs the support to ground himself. You let your thumb brush over his tip, using his precum as lube to give him even more friction.

He cries out, back arching. "Yes," he chokes out. "Fuck, babygirl, do that again.”

You do, swiping your thumb across the slit and spreading more precum over him. It makes everything slicker and wetter, and the way you're able to move faster now has him moaning nonsensical little things.

His hips are bucking up harder now, and you watch as his abs tense and release, the hand not holding yours going up to tug on his hair. Your body feels like a loaded stick of dynamite, and you're so careful to keep your hips still, knowing how badly you want friction.

"M’close," he breathes. "Fuck, babygirl. You feel so good."

You pump faster, giving him the extra tightness and friction that he needs. You watch as the hand in his hair drops to his stomach, nails digging into his abs.

You wonder how long he was in here like this, pained and desperate. You try not to think about him moaning your name in the empty room, fucking up into his fist as he thinks about you, chasing your scent on his pillow.

Just because of the rut, your brain supplies. Because it would be absurd to think otherwise.

You glance up at his face. His eyes are screwed shut, lips parted as he pants and grunts and makes other sounds in the air. The look on his face is enough to make you clench around nothing. You've only been hot and bothered for the last 5 minutes and you already feel desperate to cum, so you can't imagine what he's going through.

You let your other hand reach up to cup his face.

"Chan," you murmur. "Look at me.”

He opens his eyes slowly, pupils completely blown as he meets your gaze. You see sweat sliding down the side of his face, and you wonder if it's from his fever or his pleasure.

"You're okay, babyboy," you whisper. His cock jumps in your hand at that. "You can cum, you know. You don't have to hold back."

"Wanna--wanna be good," he grunts. You feel him start to thrust faster. "Don't wanna hurt you."

"You're doing so good, Channie. You're not hurting me."

The two of you stare at each other for a moment before you drop your hand from his cheek and slide it down the column of his throat, letting your nails scratch across his skin. His reaction is immediate, body spasming as he groans.

"Shit," he cries. "Yes, right– right there, Oh my God."

"Yeah?" You scrape your nails across the base of his throat again, making sure to be a bit rougher this time.

He nods quickly, the grip on your hand tightening. You take your other hand off of him, drinking up the sound of his whine before you slide it underneath his hoodie, feeling his chest up. You scrape your nails over his pecs, making him jolt a little.

"C'mon, Channie," you coo. "You're okay. I want you to cum for me."

He lets out a strangled sound, hips bucking up into your fist even faster now. His head falls back again and you see the muscles in his neck strain.

"Please," he chokes out. "I need-- I need--"

You slide your hand from his chest back up to his neck, finding the spot from earlier that made him make that deliciously memorable noise. When you drag your nails across it, his hips stutter in their rhythm, and that's the only warning you have before his entire body is convulsing with pleasure.

"Oh, fuck," he grunts. "Babygirl, fuck–”

His cock pulses in your hand as he cums, releasing all over himself and your fingers. You stroke him through it, gently moving your hand up and down until he's spent.

Then, there's silence.

You're not sure what you expect. Maybe for him to turn over and go to sleep, or for him to act bashful and apologetic, letting you know it won't happen again.

You certainly aren't expecting for him to grip your hips and lift you up onto the bed. Or for him to gently push you down on your back. Or for the desperation in his face to be replaced with something harder, something more in control and dominating as he says, “Please let me eat your pussy, babygirl.”

You almost choke.

You feel like you should protest. Tell him he doesn't have to, that this is already more than you thought you would ever get. But then he's sliding his hands up under your shirt, and the only thing your mouth can form is a moan.

He's never seen you naked, always a respectable gentleman, but there's no hesitation or uncertainty in the way his hands move around your body. He's not tentative and gentle like you expected; he's touching and pinching and running his nails along your skin like he's done this before, like he knows all your spots. He reaches your chest, where you have no bra, and rubs his thumb across your already hardened nipple. Your back arches and your legs fall open for him with a groan, letting him slot himself in the now empty spot.

He pulls his hand away, moving up to your face and cupping your jaw so you can look at him. He's looking down at you with dark eyes.

"Please?”

He's asking, you know, but there's nothing gentle in the way he's looking at you. You nod as best as you can, and he brings his hand down from your jaw to your chin, fingers sliding over your lips. You feel him nudge his thumb against your bottom lip, and you take the hint.

You open your mouth for him, letting him slide his thumb inside and rub it across your tongue. He's looking down at you intensely as you swirl your tongue around his finger, and when you suck on it a little, he lets out a grunt.

"Fuck," he breathes. He pulls his thumb away, watching as a string of saliva connects it to your lips. "You're gonna let me make you feel good, yeah?”

You nod again, but he gives a little humorless chuckle, head tilting at you.

"Use your words babygirl."

"Yes." Your voice is quiet. "Yes, I want you to.”

He stares at you for another moment. You watch his eyes dart across your face, your body, before settling on your lips again. He leans down then, hovering just above you as he licks his own lips.

"Gonna kiss you now," he murmurs. "That okay?"

You fear you look stupid, the way you're just staring up at him, jaw slacked and eyes going in and out of focus. You nod anyway, trying to act normal.

Or as normal as you can, under the circumstances.

He doesn't waste any more time after that. He leans down the rest of the way, pressing his lips against yours. It's slow at first, a sweet little thing that makes you feel warm and safe. You sigh into it, eyes fluttering closed.

But then he licks a stripe across your bottom lip, and you let out a pathetic little whimper, lips falling open just enough for him to slot his tongue in your mouth. He kisses you like he needs it to breathe. It's desperate, burning, hot and filthy. He's licking into your mouth, his teeth nipping at your lips. You try to press your thighs together again, but his strong, muscular slab of body is between them, forcing them open.

His hands slide down your sides and settle on your hips. Your shorts do nothing as a barrier, and you feel every modicum of heat in his hands. He slips those warm hands into the waistband of both your shorts and panties, sliding them down your body antagonizingly slowly.

He sits back on his knees then, pulling them both all the way off before tossing them to the side. Then he leans forward again, pressing wet kisses to the skin right below your belly button.

"Chan," you breathe.

"S'okay baby," he mumbles against your skin. You feel a new wave of wetness flow through you. How could your usual nickname be even hotter with half of it missing?

Then he's moving his mouth down, down, down, and you feel him pressing his nose to your slit.

"Oh god," you whine.

"I know," he murmurs. You feel his tongue press against your clit, and your entire body spasms. He chuckles, wrapping his arms around your legs and squeezing your thighs to hold them open. "I know babygirl.”

He licks you again, making you groan out loud. You can't help but bring one hand up to his curls, weaving your fingers through them and tugging on them like you've always wanted to. He responds by moaning, the vibrations shooting straight to your core.

You feel his tongue dip lower, spreading your wetness around. He dips it into your entrance, tongue fucking you at such a languid pace you feel like you'll fall apart. You hear him groan against your cunt again, and his hands tighten on your thighs.

"So wet, baby," he murmurs. "Taste so good.”

He presses his tongue to your clit again, and you pull on his hair harder. He grunts, and you feel him rutting up against the bed, his cock hard again, chasing some form of relief. 

"Please baby," he mumbles against you. "Want you to cum for me. Please."

You know yourself, know what gets you going and what really makes you cum, so you want to tell him that it's going to take more than this, that you're not there yet, but you don't get a chance to before he's sliding a finger inside of you, curling it up and finding your spot with such accuracy your vision goes white.

You feel him suck on your clit then, swirling his tongue around it as he slides another finger inside of you. You tug on his hair again, not even realizing that you're grinding up against his face.

You feel yourself getting closer, chasing the release you've been desperate for since he pulled you onto the bed. His fingers curl inside of you again, pressing that spot and making you scream out his name.

"Yeah?" Chan groans against you, voice hoarse and desperate. "Like that? S'okay baby, let go."

"Chan," you choke. You're so, so close. "Chris. Chris.”

He moans at that, speeding up his fingers and moving his tongue even faster.  He's rocking himself up against the mattress with more urgency now, panting and moaning with his mouth pressed to your cunt.

"C'mon babygirl," he mumbles. "Need you to cum. C'mon, please. Need it."

He presses his fingers into that spot again, and you're gone. You arch up off of the bed as you cum, his name ripping itself from your throat as he fucks you through it. You feel your cunt pulsing around his fingers as you ride out your orgasm. He keeps licking, his moans sending vibrations straight up your spine until you're over sensitive, tugging on his hair for him to back away. He does, but not before pressing wet kisses to the inside of your thigh.

He sits up then, his hair sticking up all over the place from where you've been pulling on it. He's sweaty and breathing hard, his lips swollen and red from where you were kissing him. You feel his eyes roam over your body, and you know that if you look down, you'll see how your skin is flushed from your ears down to your chest.

He's still sporting a semi, but his focus isn't on that anymore. He gathers you up in his hands, pulling you with him to the top of the bed and settling you with him on the pillows. He presses a kiss to your forehead, pulling you to rest your head on his chest.

"Sleep," he says into your hair. You notice how his body temperature has dropped-- he doesn't feel like an inferno anymore.

You're too tired to do anything but whine gently at the way he's holding you, too relaxed and spent to say anything. You feel sleep pulling at your eyes as he fixes your shirt over you carefully.

"Ah, shit," he murmurs. "Gotta clean you up. Then I'll come right back, yeah?”

You nod, trying to fight off sleep just a little longer. He presses a kiss to your hair before sliding out of the bed, going to the bathroom and coming back with a warm washcloth. You feel him wipe you down gently, and you mumble out something that might've been a thank you.

He takes the washcloth back to the bathroom, coming back to join you in bed. He pulls you back on top of him, settling the blankets over the two of you.

You're asleep before he can even kiss your forehead again.

When you wake up in the morning, you do your usual pause to see what does and doesn't hurt. You're mostly pain free, you realize sleepily, except for a dull ache in your hips and knees and a pleasant soreness in your–

Oh shit.

Everything slams back into you at once. The lemonade, Chan, him begging for you in more ways than one. It feels like you've been doused in cold water and tossed off of a bridge.

You go to sit up, but when you make an attempt to move, you feel an impossibly heavy weight around your midsection. Said weight snores a bit, and you realize that it's Chan's arm draped across you.

He's sleeping soundly next to you, hair still ruffled and unruly from where you were pulling it, lips still slightly swollen and red. The blankets are pulled up to his chin, hiding his body from view.

Your face burns as you try to really remember everything that happened last night, either to orient yourself through the brain fog or torture yourself. You're not entirely sure. Chan was... he was in rut, you knew that much. And you offered to help. Then he ate you out and gave you what was probably the most intense orgasm of your life, and then you fell asleep.

Typical stuff. Of course.

The memories are still there, but the reality of the situation has you panicking. His eyes are still closed, so you don't have to deal with the embarrassment of him catching you staring, but you're frozen anyway.

You're immediately hit with the overwhelming realization that you just made a mistake. There's no way you can possibly continue to keep your feelings for Chan a secret after this, no way that you can pretend you don't know what his amazingly deft fingers feel like inside of you. How would you ever be able to look him in the face again?

A vibrating sound pulls you from your spiral. For a second, you wonder if it's coming from Chan, but you recognize that, no matter what genetic issue he has, a person cannot vibrate. 

The sound is actually coming from just off the side of the bed, where your shorts and panties lay discarded. You reach over and pluck your phone from the back pocket, turning it over to see an unfamiliar number flashing across the screen.

You're about to send it to voicemail when your heart sinks like lead along with recognition in your chest. It's the genetic clinic.

You're untangling yourself from Chan's arms in record speed, shirking your shorts on and stepping into the hallway. He doesn't stir, thankfully, but you still close the door gently behind you anyway.

"Hello?" You breathe.

The nurse on the other side of the line greets you enthusiastically, and after confirming you are the intended recipient of the phone call, she asks you to hold while she transfers you to the doctor. You wait anxiously for a minute or two, pacing your way to the kitchen island and picking at the skin around your fingers while you listen to the generic hold music.

"Good morning," the doctor says as she comes on the line. She, too, sounds far too chipper. "I apologize for the wait, I was in the middle of rounds when your nurse flagged me down."

"That's okay," you say. Pleasantries feel superficial right now.

"Right, so. We did get some of your preliminary genetic results back," she says. You can hear pages being turned on the other side of the line. "I wanted to let you know that, unfortunately--"

The floor falls from under your feet.

"-- You did test positive for Ehlers Danlos Syndrome. Classical type."

You can't really hear anything else she's saying. Something about coming back in, maybe. About starting physical therapy. Taking care of yourself. You feel sick, like you might pass out. Or throw up. 

You manage to push through the rest of the conversation, your voice sounding far away even to your own ears. She lets you know that she's sending follow-up information to your email, says that it's important to have support at such a time like this, and you make a very non committal grunt of acknowledgement before ending the phone call. Your phone chatters on the island, the sound echoing in the empty space.

You can't even form a concept of a thought before your chest feels tight, like there's a rubber band stretching across your ribs and pulling taut. You skin suddenly feels like there are a million and one tiny sets of feet thrumming underneath it. It's too hot. Your shirt is choking you. It's all suddenly too much at once: last night with Chan, the diagnosis, the way you're feeling an ache building in your back.

You need to move. You need to get out.

You're up the stairs before you can really process it, standing in front of your suitcase and rifling through it with speed. You find a pair of sweats and what you’re almost certain is Chan's old hoodie, but you toss them on quickly anyway.

The air is crisp when it hits your face a few moments later. It's exactly what you need. The path around the cabin is familiar– you've walked it countless times during family trips and weekend getaways. You know exactly where to step to avoid the mud, which trees mark the loop back to the house.

You walk until your legs burn, until the tears on your face dry in the cold air. Your mind races with everything and nothing at once.

Classical EDS. Your PCP was right about it being a connective tissue disorder. EDS explains the tummy aches, the racing heart, the migraines, and most obviously, the joint pain. There's no cure. Just management. Just a lifetime of being careful, of physical therapy, of putting in insane amounts of effort to make sure your joints don't fucking disintegrate.

You find this to be the most manageable of all the issues at the moment. 

But Chan…

God, Chan. What were you thinking? He was in rut, vulnerable and needing comfort, and you just... what? Offered yourself up like some kind of heathen? Let him touch you in ways you've only dreamed about, knowing full well it would change everything?

This feels like the biggest issue to you, you realize when you pause on a tree stump. Because if you lose Chan, from something you initiated, you will lose everything else. He is the center of your universe, and everything revolves around him. You can't lose him, especially not over your own stupidity.

You think about going back. Talking to him. Maybe trying to convince him that you're fine, that he doesn't have to worry about you. That you don't like him like that, and you were just being a good friend and helping.

But then you remember his face when he came, eyes rolling into the back of his head as he moaned out your name. The way his fingers felt inside of you. How good he smelled.

You'll never be able to forget any of it now, you realize. And it will tear you apart if you lose him because of it.

You realize you've been walking much longer than intended when you catch a glimpse of the position of the sun. The morning chill has given way to a warmer temperature, though your face still feels numb from the wind. Your joints are definitely making themselves known now.

You suppose you may as well head back, even if you don't have any idea what you’re going to do when you have to face Chan. You can't stay out and freeze.

As you round the final bend that leads back to the cabin, you see him.

Chan is standing on the front porch, shirtless despite the cold, his hands visibly shaking at his sides. He's looking in the opposite direction, but you see when your scent hits him, because he whips around and his eyes lock onto you immediately. There's a look on his face that makes your chest ache– he looks terrified, like he's been coming apart at the seams.

You both freeze in your spots, an echo of that moment at the clinic. The silence stretches between you, heavy with everything unsaid. You notice then that his eyes are red, not the same red tint you now recognize from his rut, no. This is the red tint from that day he had to drive you to the hospital.

He's been crying.

“Where–” his voice is labored. “Babygirl. Where have you been?”

"I just..." you gesture vaguely at the path behind you. "I needed some air."

He takes a step forward, then seems to think better of it, stopping himself in his tracks. "You weren't... you were gone when I woke up. Your phone was on the counter, I couldn't... I didn't know where…”

He makes a pained noise in his chest, and then you see his entire face crumble. He pulls one of his arms up to his face, covering his eyes as you hear him start to cry.

Your heart breaks in two.

You rush to him as quickly as your protesting legs will allow, taking the stairs two at a time until you're in front of him. You reach up to gently pull his arm down, but he jerks away, a wounded noise escaping from his mouth.

"No," he cries. "You shouldn't–  don't touch me. I'm sorry.”

“Chris,” you breathe, hoping to cut through his emotional fog. “Chris, please, look at me.”

“Tell me what I did.”

You scrunch your eyebrows in confusion. “What?”

“What did I do wrong?” His voice cracks around the words. “Last night, I couldn't… control myself. And you were so good to me and then– you were gone.”

"Chan, no." You reach for him again, and this time he lets you pull his arm down. His face is streaked with tears, those big brown eyes red and swollen. "You didn't do anything wrong."

He shakes his head violently, words tumbling out around hiccups. "Then why did you leave? Why didn't you wake me up? I woke up and you were gone and I couldn't– your scent was gone and I couldn't–"

A sob cuts him off. You grab his hand and tug him towards the door. "Let's go inside. Please? It's freezing out here.”

He lets you tug him inside, at least just until you can close the door. You try to bring him over to the couch, but he's stubborn, keeping his feet planted where they are. He won't look at you, keeping his gaze downcast no matter how much you tug on his arm. You let go after a tense moment, sighing and wrapping your arms around yourself.

“Chan. The clinic called,” you say softly. “Thats why I left. My results came back.”

His head snaps up at that, understanding settling over his face. “You… did you test positive for–”

“Classical Ehlers Danlos,” you supply.

He looks like he'll cry all over again, reaching his hand out to you before pulling it back to his side. He squeezes his hands in and out of fists a few times before he shakes his head, tilting his head back until he's staring up at the ceiling.

“I'm so sorry,” he breathes. “Last night… I shouldn't have–”

“Stop, please,” you cut him off, voice hoarse in the quiet. You've run out of energy. “You didn't do anything wrong.”

“No, I did everything wrong. I thought I could handle it, thought it wouldn't be too much. Everyone told me it was a bad idea but I didn't want to listen, thought I could control myself.”

You feel bile rising in your throat. “What?”

He shakes his head again. “I shouldn't have said yes.”

He murmurs it, but the cabin is dead silent, so there's no way you don't hear it. There's no way you can misinterpret what he means either. Last night. He shouldn't have said yes when you asked if he needed help.

You take a step back, and you watch his face crumble a bit more. “Right.” Your voice sounds hollow. “It's fine. It was a mistake anyway."

"A mistake?" Now he looks confused through his tears. "No, that's not–"

"It's okay, Chan." You force a smile that feels like it might crack your face in half. You need to end this conversation now so you can go cry in your bed. "We can just forget it happened. You were in rut, I was... available. It's fine."

"Available." He deadpans. His gaze loses some of the previous softness. "Is that what you think? That I just... used you because you were there?”

You find yourself backing away towards the stairs, already mentally checked out. “Isn't it? You said it yourself last night, it was just my scent.”

His face flashes through so many emotions, you're not sure how you would begin parsing through them. He settles on something that looks like a mix of thinly veiled disgust and anger. He fixes his posture until he's back up to his full height now, brown eyes ablaze.

You decide to turn away from him fully at that moment. Whatever this is, this half argument you're having, it can wait until you've taken a good nap. You prepare to climb the stairs, keeping one hand on the railing and one foot on a stair.

That's about as far as you make it before you feel the unmistakable heat of Chan behind you. You stifle back the gasp that threatens to spill when he presses himself right up against your back, head dipped down so he's right by your ear.

“Ask me why,” he breathes. 

You shiver at the feeling of his breath on your ear, and your entire body lights up in record time. You've forgotten how to speak, maybe.

So, you eloquently stutter out a simple, "What?"

He slides a hand around you, reaching from the base of your back all the way to your stomach, pulling you closer to him. “Babygirl. I said, ask me why.”

You swallow thickly. His voice is still hoarse and low from the crying, and it sends a shiver up your spine that rocks your body so hard, you think you would fall if not for the strong arm around you.

"Why," you breathe. The word has no conviction in it. You're getting dizzy.

He leans even closer to you, lips brushing the shell of your outer ear. "Because," he murmurs. "Yes, your scent smells so fucking good. So sweet and warm. But I don't want you because you smell good, baby. I want you because you smell like you're mine.”

You whimper involuntarily at that, and you feel him inhale sharply. His other hand reaches up to hold your chin, tilting your head up towards him. You're looking at each other now, his eyes blown wide and his pupils blown so black, there's barely any brown left.

"Do you understand me, babygirl?" He's breathing hard against you. "Even under the harsh scent of your pain, or the saccharine scent of when you're happy, something in you always smells like you belong to me. Do you know why?"

Your knees feel weak. Not from pain, but because of whatever is happening right now. You let out a pathetic mewl in Chan's hold and watch his nostrils flare. 

"Because you are mine. My mate. You hear me, baby? Mine.”

Then he's tilting your head to the side and kissing down the column of your throat, nipping just hard enough to send electricity through your body. You whine, unable to stop the way your body arches into his touch. 

He makes a low, rumbling sound in his chest, pulling away just long enough to look you in your eyes again. "Wasn't using you," he huffs, saying the word use like it leaves a nasty flavor in his mouth. "I needed you, needed your scent around me to make it better. I couldn't control myself, baby."

He spins you around so that you're facing him now, hands still wrapped around your waist. You think he's about to kiss you, but you see a wave of clarity and seriousness push everything else to the side.

“They asked me at the clinic,” he starts, shuffling with you in his arms until you're back in the living room with him. “If something happened to a family member, or if I had a girlfriend who was hurt.”

You're hanging on to every word, unable to look away from his eyes.

“I told them no to both, but I told them about the hospital, about how you called me crying cause you were in so much pain, and you just kept passing out on me. I told them about how scared I was that if I left the hospital, I would come back and you wouldn't be there. You'd be gone. It was ripping me apart.”

You reach up to touch his face without thinking, thumb brushing over his cheekbone. He leans into the touch like he can't help himself.

“I presented because I wanted to protect you down to my very DNA. I was going so crazy about you that my body needed a way to protect me– protect you.”

“Chan,” you breathe.

“They said my inner wolf, that primal part of me, recognized it as my mate being in pain, and I was powerless to stop it. It's you, babygirl. It's always been you.”

The hopeless romantic in your heart is giddy. 

You think about how you'd tried to touch him during the drive up, how he'd pulled his hands away like he was in pain. You supposed maybe he was. Going through his first rut, stuck in an enclosed space with his mate, unable to do anything about it.

You can't imagine the amount of restraint it probably took him to remain normal. The sheer thought of it alone has you blinking back up at him, looking right in his eyes.

With the eye contact, you feel his body swell microscopically, like he's flaxing every muscle so he can look bigger, more threatening, but he is neither of those things to you.

To you he is just Chan.

You're rising up on your toes before you even know what's happening, hand sliding up Chan's neck to pull him down towards you and catching his lips in a hot, burning kiss. 

The hand around your waist tighten's its grip, slotting you even further against his body.

It feels like home. It feels like safety.

You feel his growing bulge press against you, and you hum into the kiss. 

It feels like perfection.

"M'Sorry," he slurs against your mouth. He makes no effort to pull away. "Still in rut. Sensitive."

You say nothing, sliding your free hand down his chest, over his stomach until you reach what you're looking for. You rest your hand over it softly, not grabbing or pressing, but he responds like you do, grunting and rutting up against your hand as he starts panting.

"Babygirl," he groans. "Baby, please."

You start moving your hand in earnest now, cupping his bulge through his sweats as he grinds up against you. His eyes flutter closed and he pulls away from the kiss, leaning his forehead against yours.

"God, I wanna fuck you so bad," he grunts. "Wanna be inside. Wanna cum inside you so deep you'll never forget who you belong to. Make myself your alpha."

It's insane how your body reacts to that. You feel your clit jump in your underwear. The Alpha/Omega thing wasn't real-- or at least wasn't based on any science with the condition, but the way Chan speaks, the way his grunts sound so close to your ear, you believe it could be.

"You're gonna let me, right?" He whines. "Please? I'll make you feel so good. Been so good for me already baby. Just wanna make you cum on my cock."

Your moan gets caught in your throat when he slides a hand down your body to grip the swell of your ass. Between that and feeling him, rock solid against you, your entire body comes back to life with desperate, almost delirious need.

"Yes," you breathe. "Yes, Channie, please. Want you. Please."

His chest vibrates with a growl and he wastes no time pushing you back until you're laying against the couch. He kneels over you, large hand reaching down and palming himself through his sweats.

He notices what you're wearing at that moment. He reaches his free hand down, gripping the material of your– his – hoodie. It's entirely too big for you, even when you're standing, but laying back like this, the material absolutely dwarfs you. 

He must like the sight of it, because you watch him grip himself tight.

"Fuck, babygirl. You don't know what you do to me. Wearing my clothes? Are you even wearing anything under that?"

Feeling bold, you reach down and pull the hem of the sweater up, just enough so that he can see the expanse of skin right under it. When he looks back at your face, you give him an innocent expression, eyes wide and blinking.

He doesn't even bother taking anything off, just pulls his cock out of his sweats and starts stroking himself again. You feel your mouth go dry just from the sight of it– hard and flushed red, precum dripping from the tip. You grip the material of his sweater tighter.

“Gonna be good, baby?" he breathes. "Wanna get off like this."

You nod, unable to form a coherent sentence. He looks fucking delicious above you, cock in hand as he strokes himself faster now, moaning at the way you look underneath him.

"Gonna make myself cum on your stomach," he grunts. "Mark you. Then I'll fuck you until you're screaming, so everyone knows who you belong to.”

You feel your cunt throbbing in your underwear. You cant help the way you whine out his name, the way you squeeze your thighs together to try to get some relief. He looks like he's going to explode just from hearing you say his name like that.

He leans over you, bracing one hand on the back of the couch by your head, effectively caging you in. You can feel how his muscles flex under your hands as you touch him, sliding your palms up and down his chest. You find your eyes locked onto his hand, watching the way he moves up and down.

"Couldn't stop thinking about you," he breathes. "Fucked my fist so many times wishing it was you.”

You wrap your arms around him, one hand going up to that special spot at the base of his neck. As you graze your nails against it, he turns his face, pressing his nose into the pulse point on your wrist, inhaling you and your smell.

He starts moaning louder, breath fanning across your arm as he gets closer and closer to the edge. You're so turned on from it, you feel like you might actually cum without a hand to your body.

"Babygirl," he grunts. "Baby, fuck. I'm close."

You pull him down to you, pressing his face right into your neck. You can feel how his eyelids flutter as his eyes roll back, the arm by your head straining with how tightly he's gripping the couch.

"Gonna let your alpha cum on your stomach, baby? Mark you?”

You nod quickly. You feel him lean in even more, brushing his lips against the soft part of your throat where he no doubt can feel your erratic pulse. You right into his ear, and then he's groaning out your name and nipping at your throat hard, all teeth and tongue and need as he spills all over you.

He makes sure to press his body flush against you while he rides out his orgasm, so that his cum splatters all over your stomach. He grinds up against you with his hips, making sure his cock slides along the fabric of his sweater. You watch him get lost in it, eyes screwed shut as he mouths at your throat, panting and moaning through his high.

Then he stills, just a bit. He pulls away from your neck, his pupils still completely blown as he looks down at you.

You're not sure what he sees when he does. You know sweat is starting to stick to your skin, plastering little bits of your hair to your face. Despite not being touched yet, you feel absolutely cock drunk if only on the sight of Chan alone.

You can't tell if that's what he sees, but whatever it is, it makes his still-hard cock jump against where it rests on your stomach. He's pushing himself up to sit on his knees before you even remember your own name.

He slides down the couch until his face is level with your hips. He pulls the waistband of your sweats down just enough for your cunt to be exposed, and then he's leaning forward, dragging his tongue along your slit.

"Fuck," you cry, body jolting. "Chan."

He doesn't respond verbally, just hums and pulls back enough to stare at your dripping cunt. You find your hips bucking up when he lets his mouth water just enough to drool right on you.

He dives back down to your cunt and pushes his tongue inside of you. You feel him moan against you as he licks you, slow and deliberate. You can hear how wet you are, and you feel yourself throb around his tongue when you hear it.

"I kept noticing your scent change," he says against your clit. He gives it a few kitten licks before diving down and flattening his tongue on you, licking and slurping you from end to end. "Sometimes, I would look at you, or touch you, and you smelled like citrus. Couldn't figure out why."

He takes those absurdly plump lips and suctions them around your clit, one strong arm coming to hold you down when you arch up off the bed.  "Thats just your scent when you're aroused," he continues, nudging his nose against your clit. "Smells so fucking good."

You're certain you might be delirious at this point. The way Chan eats you out feels so much better than anything else you've ever felt, and his tongue has you hurdling to the crest of your orgasm faster than you can believe.

"Oh. Ohh," you whimper. "Channie, m'so close."

"That's my good girl," he murmurs. His lips are still right against your clit. "You're so perfect baby. Let me make you feel good. Want you to cum for me."

He slides his tongue back inside of you, and you feel a hand come up to play with your clit. You're so dangling off the edge, so ready to jump with the right push. You just need a little more, but then you feel a finger slide inside of you and crook up.

You're gone. You cum with a shout of Chan's name, arching up off of the couch as your body shakes from the intensity of it all. He licks you through it, pulling away only when you start to whine and wiggle around from the sensitivity.

He sits back on his knees again, watching you pant on the couch as you try to collect yourself. You look over at him when you catch your breath, and you see him licking his fingers clean.

He leans over you again, and you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him down. You don't bother asking first, just slot his lips to yours in a desperate kiss. It's absolutely wet and filthy, the flavor of yourself bursting over your tongue when he swipes into your mouth. You suck on his tongue, hard, and he groans into your mouth, hands sliding up under the sweater to touch your bare skin.

"Gonna fuck you good now," he grunts against your lips. You whine and press your body into his. "Okay, baby? Do you think you're ready for me?"

"Yes, Chris," you sigh. He pulls away from the kiss gently to stare at you. Despite the haze of his rut, you can see a hesitancy in his eyes, like there's something he wants but he's not saying. It takes all of two seconds for you to connect the dots.

"Please, Alpha?" you whine.

That seems to be the magic word, because he's lifting you up into his arms and standing up from the couch immediately. In a split second, you're pressed up against the wall next to the TV. You're very thankful for the layer between your bare skin and the freezing cold wall.

He wraps your legs around his waist, and suddenly you can feel the heat of his erection right on you. He presses his cock between your folds, holding you tight while he ruts up into you. 

You're so wet that the head catches against your entrance every so often, making both of you moan into each others mouths.

"Thank you, baby," he murmurs, uncharacteristically soft at a moment like this. "'m so grateful. So--" He lets out a pant, eyes rolling back as he lets his head drop back too. "Fuck."

You know Chan well enough to know what he's trying to say. He's thanking you for accepting him, for coming back to him, for letting him be vulnerable.

How could you not? He was so distressed by your wellbeing that a distant part of his DNA woke up to protect you. He ignored his doctor's orders to take you on this trip because he knew you needed it. He was content to suffer through his first rut in silence if it meant just taking care of you.

How could you not love all that he is?

You learn forward and nip him right as his pulse point, and his whole body jerks. You know werewolf lore, know that a bite there means a forever. You don't have the same genetic syndrome, but God do you want to be in his arms forever. You don't even feel like you need to question it.

His eyes, heavily lidded, find their way to your face. "You know what that bite means, right baby?" His voice is hoarse, and even when he clears his throat at your responding nod, it doesn't get better. "You wanna mark me there, babygirl? Make me yours?”

You nod, sliding your mouth up his throat until your lips are pressed right against his ear. You slide your tongue over his lobe and tug on it. "Please alpha. Wanna show everyone who you belong to."

He snakes a hand up your back until he finds your hair, fingers tangling in the roots as he grips, pulling your head back. "I mark you first," he grits out. "Let alpha take care of you."

You can't help the way you go pliant, letting your head fall to one side just enough to expose your neck to him. You watch his eyes and make your expression as wanting as possible.

He groans at that, finally pulling you away from the wall just enough so that he can line himself up. He pushes his tip right into you, and you press your forehead against his, the mixed sounds of your breathing being the only thing filling the atmosphere.

"I love you," he sighs. Your heart squeezes in your chest. "Gonna take such good care of you always, yeah?"

"I love you more, Chan," is your breathy reply.

"I'll give you everything," he sighs. "Everything you want. I just need you to come on my cock first, yeah? The alpha's got you. I got you."

Then he's pushing in slowly, and you both sigh as he bottoms out. You cling to him, pressing your face into his neck as he fucks you slowly into the wall.

He keeps it slow, pressing open-mouthed kisses to your forehead and hair, telling you how good you feel, how perfect you are for him, how you were made just for him. You're already feeling the pressure building up in your stomach again, barely paying attention to what he's saying. 

"Gonna breed this tight little pussy," he murmurs at some point. You do hear that, and you clench hard around him, making him groan.

"Oh fuck," he gasps. "You want my seed, huh? Want me to fuck my seed in you, angel?"

Your walls around him again, swallowing him up. You know you can't get pregnant-- birth control and all of that-- but the idea of him filling you up has your body begging for more. You dig your nails into the skin of his back and you feel him throb inside of you. He makes a sound between a grunt and a moan, slamming his hips into yours, cock sliding into you deeper than before.

"Fuck," he breathes. "Fuck, m'so close already. Think you can you cum with me angel? Hm?"

You nod, clinging to his shoulders as you bounce up and down on his cock. It feels so good, too good, and you're already so close yourself.

"Chris," you whine. "I'm– fuck, I'm close."

"I know, babygirl," He sounds so wrecked. "I'm right behind you. You can cum for me baby. Cum for your alpha. Want you to cum on me, please."

He presses a kiss to your neck, right over your pulse point, and that's all it takes to send you tumbling over the edge. You cry out his name, letting him fuck you through it while your cunt pulsates around him. You feel him twitch in you, a deep guttural moan leaving his lips as he slams into you one last time, spilling all his cum inside of you.

He bites you then.

Its not painful, not really, because he doesn't break skin. His teeth aren't sharp enough for that. The bite is more performative than anything, but it sends a shockwave through your body.

 It's a strange feeling, almost like your blood is simmering under your skin, but you're so lost in the bliss of your orgasm that you don't even care. It feels right, anyhow. Like the final missing piece to a puzzle you've been spending a lifetime constructing.

He stays there for a second, sucking a bruise into your neck. His hands are shaking, but he's holding you tight enough that you don't even worry about falling.

Then, he licks the spot on your neck where he bit, soothing whatever pain he might've caused. He pulls away from you just enough to press a kiss to your lips, still holding you up with his cock in you.

"I love you," he whispers. "My mate. Mine."

You reach a hand up to touch his neck, and he tilts his head to the side, giving away to the instincts thrumming under his skin. You take your fingers and trace them along the column of his throat, stopping just under his Adam's apple. 

You don't say anything at first, just lean forward and press your lips against the same spot. Your bite is more restrained, more gentle. He hisses out a strangled sound, and you would assume it was pain if you didn't feel his cock pulse in you.

When you pull away, you look at him, a small smile on both of your incredibly fucked out faces. You lean forward and press a little kiss to his lips.

"I love you too," is your quiet reply. "My mate."

As promised, he's so gentle with you afterwards, cleaning you up and giving you your medication when he scents your hips are about to ache. The entire ordeal is so familiar, so cozy, you wonder how you could've ever let yourself believe that Chan didn't love you too.

Hours later, when you're cuddled together on the couch, dozing off in his lap, you hear him whispering something against your hair. Your mind is so muddled with sleep you can barely make out the words he's saying.

You string together something about mates, something about how he'll protect you, how you're his everything, how he loves you so much.

It doesn't really matter though. You know already, because he's yours, and you're his.

His everything.

[joelmillerisapunk]

Tastes like strawberries

Dbf!Joel miller x f!reader

Masterlist

Wordcount: 6,367 (ma bad)

Summary: after accidentally sending your dads best friend a provocative photo meant for someone else you go to "apologize" in person.

Warnings: 18+, age gap (make it your own), handcuffs, scissors, power imbalance, alcohol consumption, f&m oral receiving, joel wrecks your clothes, unprotected p in v, reader has hair and wears a dress, just two consenting adults

Notes: this wasn't meant to be so long. But here we are. Thank you for reading hope you like it <3 Thank you @syd-djarin @joelslegalwhre and @mountainsandmayhem for beta'ing sending you all smooches! and @saradika-graphics for the divider <3 <3 <3

The soft glow of your phone screen illuminates your face in the dimly lit room. Your heart races with a mix of excitement and nerves as you craft the perfect message to the guy you've been chatting with on Tinder. His name is Joel, and he seems different from the others—charming, mature, and undeniably intriguing.

With a deep breath, you attach the sexy photo you'd taken earlier, one that you hope he'll find irresistible. You type out a flirty caption, double-check the name at the top of the chat, and hit send before you can second-guess yourself.

The next morning, you wake up to a message notification. Your heart leaps, thinking it's Tinder Joel, but as you reach for your phone, a sense of dread washes over you. The message is from your father's best friend, Joel Miller, a man you've known since childhood and who has seen you grow up. The preview of the message from last night is enough to make your blood run cold.

11:58PM: I think you might have sent this to the wrong person, sweetheart.

Panic sets in as you read the full message and your face flames with embarrassment. You type out a flurry of apologies, each one more frantic than the last. Joel's response is swift and unexpected.

8:05AM: It's all good, baby girl. You don't need those Tinder boys when I'm right here for ya.

The message is accompanied by a winking emoji, and despite your mortification, you can't help but feel a thrill at the familiarity and warmth in his words. 

—

Determined to apologize in person and clear the air, you find yourself outside the sleek glass building that houses Joel's wine company Vita Vino: where every sip is a celebration of life. You certainly don't feel very celebratory at this moment as the receptionist leads you up to the top floor, where Joel's office overlooks the city with floor-to-ceiling windows.

You step into the office, where you see the cityscape sprawling behind Joel. He rises from his desk, a smile playing on his lips, his presence commanding the room. "Come in, sweetheart, was hopin’ to see ya," he says and winks.

You manage to find your voice, despite the fluttering in your chest. "Mr. Miller, I can't tell you how sorry I am. I was mortified when I realized - I don't know what I was thinking, it was meant for someone—"

He cuts you off with a gentle raise of his hand to still your frantic words. "Please call me Joel, you know better than callin me that. It's okay darlin. Really. These things happen."

You look up at him, searching his face for any sign of judgement, but find only a calm, reassuring smile. "I just—I never meant for you to see that. I feel so stupid.”

Joel's smile broadens, and he takes a step closer. "You have nothing to feel stupid about. You're a beautiful, confident woman. Ain't no shame in that. Listen, what you sent—it was for my eyes only from the moment it reached my phone. I want you to know that you can trust me. I would never disrespect you by sharing that with anyone.”

His words resonate with you, and you feel the weight of your embarrassment start to lift. "I appreciate that, Joel. I really do."

He takes a step toward you, closing the distance between you two. His hand lifts, and you feel the warmth of his fingers as they gently tilt your chin up, forcing your gaze to meet his. "You've got nothing to thank me for darlin. I'm just being honest with you."

The intensity of his stare sends a jolt of electricity through you. He's close enough now that you can feel the heat radiating off his body, and the scent of his cologne fills your senses, making your head spin. But before you can respond, he releases your chin and moves to the side, gesturing toward a large, framed map of the world's wine regions that hangs on the wall. As you both turn to look at it, your bodies are almost touching, and you can feel the subtle brush of his arm against yours.

"I want to show you something," he says, pointing to a very tiny out of the way region highlighted in gold. "It's where we get the grapes for our signature blend. You know, just like those grapes, sometimes the best things in life are unexpected surprises." 

As he explains the intricacies of the wine-making process, his hand drifts to the small of your back, a possessive gesture that sends a shiver down your spine. His touch is light, but the message is clear—he's staking a claim. 

As Joel's hand lingers on the small of your back, his thumb traces small, intimate circles that make it hard to focus on his words about wine. The room seems to shrink, the city outside the windows fading into insignificance as your awareness narrows to the man beside you.

 You swallow hard, your breath hitching as Joel's thumb continues its maddeningly delightful exploration. The heat from his hand seems to seep through the fabric of your clothes, branding your skin with his touch. "Joel," you whisper, your voice barely above a murmur. His name feels foreign and familiar on your lips.

He turns to look at you. "Yes, darlin'?" he replies, his voice a low rumble that vibrates through you.

You take a deep breath, steadying yourself against the intoxicating effect he has on you. "I -I should go," you say, though the words feel hollow even as they leave your mouth. The last thing you want is to leave this room and the spell Joel has cast over you.

A slow smile spreads across his face, and he shakes his head slightly. "Do you really want to leave?" he asks, his hand pressing ever so slightly into your back, urging you closer.

The question hangs in the air between you, charged with anticipation and the promise of something deliciously forbidden. You know that saying yes will irrevocably change things between you and Joel Miller—the man who is friends with your father—but in this moment, none of that seems to matter. 

The air between you crackles with tension, the weight of your decision pressing down on you. You're acutely aware of the way your heart is pounding in your chest, the way your breath has become shallow and rapid. Joel's eyes are locked onto yours, a silent challenge that dares you to take a leap into the unknown.

"No," you admit, the word tasting like a confession. "I don't want to leave."

The smile that lights up Joel's face is predatory, triumphant. "Good girl," he murmurs, the approval in his voice sends a thrill through you. He steps back, giving you both a moment to breathe, to let the gravity of your decision settle in the space between you. "I've got something special I've been saving for an occasion like this," Joel says. He moves toward a polished wooden cabinet on the far side of the room. The cabinet is locked, but he produces a key from his pocket with a flourish that makes you smile despite the tension coiling in your belly.

Inside the cabinet is an array of exquisite bottles, each one surely holding a story as rich and complex as its contents. Joel's hand lingers over them before finally selecting one with a label that looks older than you are. "This," he says, holding it up to the light so you can see the liquid within, "is a 1947 Cheval Blanc. One of the finest vintages ever produced."

Your eyes widen at the sight of it. "Joel, I can't... that must be worth a fortune," you protest weakly, even as part of you yearns to experience such rare luxury.

He chuckles softly, shaking his head as he retrieves two crystal glasses from the cabinet. "Money isn't everything, darlin'." His gaze meets yours again, filled with an intensity that takes your breath away. "I can't think of anyone I'd rather share this with than you."

You watch in silence as he expertly uncorks the bottle and pours a small amount into each glass, the wine swirling like liquid rubies. He hands one to you and then raises his own in a toast. "To unexpected surprises," he says with a knowing smile.

The wine is velvet on your tongue, rich and complex with layers of flavor that seem to unfold endlessly as you sip it. You close your eyes for a moment, savoring the experience—and when you open them again Joel is watching you with an intensity that makes your knees weak. The atmosphere in the room has shifted, becoming charged with a desire that's as intoxicating as the wine you're sharing.

"You look so beautiful when you enjoy something.” 

As the last drops of the exquisite wine coat your throat, you lower your glass, your senses heightened by the rich flavors and the man standing before you. Joel's gaze is fixed on you, his eyes dark with desire that mirrors the pulsing need growing within you. He takes a step closer, the heat of his body enveloping you as he reaches out to brush a stray lock of hair behind your ear.

"I want to show you more than just wine," he says, his voice a low growl that sends shivers down your spine. "There's a whole world of pleasures I can introduce you to.”

“Joel, I dont know what to say.” 

“Nothin’, you dont have to say anything pretty girl.” 

As the last drops of the Cheval Blanc dance on your tongue, Joel takes a step closer, his gaze never leaving yours. He reaches out to take your glass, setting it aside on a nearby table. His fingers graze yours in the process, sending a jolt of electricity up your arm. You're acutely aware of the warmth of his body, the way his shirt stretches across his broad chest, the subtle hint of stubble along his jawline.

Joel turns back to the wine cabinet to return the precious bottle to its place of honor. As he opens the cabinet door, there's a soft clinking sound, and something metallic tumbles out from one of the shelves, landing with a thud on the plush carpet at your feet.

You both glance down simultaneously. There, gleaming under the soft glow of the office lights, is a pair of handcuffs. They're not just any handcuffs—they're high-quality, with a polished finish that suggests they've been well cared for. Your eyes widen in surprise, and you can feel a heat creeping up your cheeks as you look back at Joel.

"Well, that's not something I expected to show you today," he says with a sheepish grin, rubbing the back of his neck in a rare display of awkwardness.

You stare at the handcuffs and then back at Joel, your heart pounding in your chest. "Are those...?" You trail off, unable to finish the sentence.

Joel chuckles softly, his eyes twinkling with mischief as he nods. "Yes, they are.”

You're not sure what to think, you can only imagine how many women he's used those on, right here in his office. The thought sends a thrill through you, a mix of jealousy and excitement at the idea of being one of those women, of sharing in this secret, kinky side of Joel that he's kept hidden from the world. "I didn't peg you for the type," you say.

Joel's eyes lock onto yours, the playful glint in them replaced by a serious intensity. "There's a lot you don't know about me, darlin'," he admits. "And there's a lot I'd like to show you, if you're willing.”

You know that picking up those handcuffs would be crossing a line, stepping into a world of pleasure and exploration that you've never experienced before. But the thought of surrendering control to Joel, of letting him guide you through uncharted territory, is exhilarating.

Slowly, you reach down and pick up the handcuffs, the cold metal warming in your grasp. You hold them out to Joel, your heart racing as you give him a silent nod of consent. A slow, approving smile spreads across his face as he takes the handcuffs from you. 

His fingers brush against your wrists, sending sparks of electricity through your veins. You hear the soft click of the handcuffs as they close around your wrists. The sensation of being bound, of being at Joel's mercy, is both thrilling and terrifying.

"There," he says, his breath hot against your ear as he steps in front of you, a predatory glint in his eyes. "Now you're mine."

The words send a jolt of desire through you, pooling low in your belly. You're aware of the way your body responds to his words, to the dominance radiating off him in waves. "What are you going to do with me?" you ask.

Joel's smile is wicked as he reaches out to trace the line of your jaw with his finger. "Whatever I want," he says, the promise in his voice making your knees weak. "But don't worry, darlin'. I'm going to make sure you enjoy every single second of it.”

He guides you toward the large, mahogany desk that dominates his office. The surface is clear, save for a sleek laptop and a few neatly stacked papers. With a gentle hand on your shoulder, he urges you to sit on the edge of the desk, the cool wood against your skin a stark contrast to the heat radiating from his touch.

Joel steps back, his gaze raking over you as he begins to undress and it's as if time slows down, allowing you to take in every inch of his mature, ruggedly handsome form. Joel's suit is tailored to perfection, emphasizing his broad shoulders and muscular arms. Each movement he makes stretches the fabric across his toned body. With practiced ease, he removes it and then unbuttons his crisp, white dress shirt. His chest is a canvas of sun-kissed skin pulled taut over defined pectoral muscles. A smattering of gray hair dusts his chest, trailing down his toned abdomen and disappearing into the waistband of his trousers. Joel's hands move to his belt, and with a flick of his wrist, he unbuckles it, the metallic clink echoing in the quiet room. He slides the leather out of the loops with a slow, deliberate motion. His trousers follow, pooling at his feet to reveal a pair of black boxer briefs that hug his powerful thighs and leave little to the imagination.

His arousal is evident, straining against the soft fabric, and you can't help but feel a thrill at the sight. As he pushes his boxer briefs down, his cock springs free, thick and heavy with desire. His cock is a thing of beauty, perfectly proportioned to his large frame, with a defined shaft and a bulbous head that glistens with a drop of arousal. It's clear that Joel is a man confident in his sexuality and the effect he has on you.

"Eyes up here, darlin'," he teases, but the heat in his gaze tells you he enjoys your appraisal. Joel's eyes twinkle with mischief as he reaches into the top drawer of his desk, the sound of metal against wood sending a shiver of anticipation down your spine. He produces a pair of scissors. The sight of them in his large, capable hands is intimidating. "These," he says, holding up the scissors for you to see, "are going to help me unwrap my present." His voice is filled with a promise that sends a thrill straight to your core.

You swallow hard, your breath hitching as he steps toward you. "Joel, wait—" you start to protest, but the words die on your lips as he places a finger gently against them.

"Shh... trust me," he murmurs, and there's something in his eyes that makes it impossible for you to do anything but nod in silent acquiescence. With a tenderness that belies his strength, Joel takes hold of one of the straps of your dress. The cold steel of the scissors brushes against your skin as he carefully slides the blades beneath the fabric. You feel a momentary resistance and then—snip—the strap gives way, falling limply to your side as Joel cuts through it with practiced ease. The front of your dress sags slightly, revealing more of your cleavage than intended. You can feel the heat rising in your cheeks as Joel's gaze darkens with desire. "You are exquisite," he says reverently, his fingers tracing the newly exposed skin along the neckline of your dress.

Before you can respond, he's moving again, this time cutting away the other strip of fabric that hold up the rest of your dress. The material falls away from your body like petals from a blooming flower, pooling at your waist and leaving you feeling deliciously exposed under his hungry gaze. 

"Joel!" you gasp, both startled and exhilarated by his boldness. "My dress—" 

He silences you with a kiss—a deep, searing kiss that leaves no room for doubt about how much he wants you right now. "Don't worry about it," he says when he finally pulls away, “I'll buy you ten more just like it.”

With your heart pounding in your chest, you watch as Joel's attention shifts to your bra. The scissors glint in the soft light of his office, and you can't help but hold your breath as he positions the blades against the delicate fabric of your bra strap.

"I've been wanting to see these since the moment ya walked in baby," he confesses, his voice a low growl that sends a shiver down your spine. With a swift, precise movement, he snips through the strap on one side, then the other. The bra loosens around you, but it's still held in place by the underwire and your modesty is preserved—for now.

Joel sets the scissors aside and hooks his fingers under the remaining fabric of your dress and bra. He tugs gently, peeling away the layers of clothing that separate you from his touch. You lift your hips to assist him, and with a final tug, he frees you from both garments. You're sitting before him now in nothing but your underwear, feeling more vulnerable and exposed than ever before.

Joel's eyes roam over every inch of exposed skin with an intensity that makes it clear just how much he appreciates what he sees laid out before him on his desk like some kind of erotic feast prepared just for him. "You are absolutely breathtaking," he murmurs appreciatively as his hands follow where his eyes have just been caressing every curve along its way. Joel's hands continue their exploration, his fingers skimming over the soft fabric of your underwear. You can feel the heat of his touch through the thin material, and you can't help but arch into his touch, seeking more.

"Eager, aren't we?" he teases, his fingers tracing the edge of your underwear before dipping beneath the fabric. His fingertips graze your sensitive flesh, and a gasp escapes your lips as pleasure courses through you. "I like that," he murmurs, his voice thick with desire.

Your body responds to his touch with an eagerness that surprises you. He hooks his fingers under the waistband of your underwear, pulling them down slowly, his gaze never leaving yours. "Lift up for me, darlin'," he instructs. You do as he says, lifting your hips so he can slide the underwear down your legs. Once they're off, he tosses them aside carelessly, as if they're nothing more than a bothersome impediment to what he truly wants—you. Now you're completely exposed to him, sitting on the edge of his desk with your hands cuffed and your legs spread slightly. You feel vulnerable like this, but there's also a sense of empowerment in knowing that you've driven him to such lengths of desire.

Joel steps back to appreciate the view, his eyes darkening with lust as they roam over your naked body. "You are a masterpiece," he says reverently, his gaze lingering on the apex of your thighs before traveling up to meet your eyes. "And I am going to worship every inch of you."

Before you can respond, he drops to his knees in front of you, his hands gripping your thighs as he buries his face between your legs. His tongue swipes across your sensitive flesh, and a moan escapes your lips as pleasure shoots through you.  Joel's tongue delves deeper, lapping at your folds and teasing your clit with gentle flicks. You gasp, arching into his touch as he explores you with a skill that leaves you panting for more. His hands squeeze your thighs, holding you in place as he devours you. You feel the world around you melt away as his attention focuses solely on bringing you pleasure.

As he works his magic between your legs, Joel's other hand travels up to cup one of your breasts, tweaking a nipple gently before rolling it between his fingers. The sensation sends shockwaves of desire coursing through you, heightening the pleasure he's already coaxing from below. Your hips buck against him in response to the exquisite torment and ecstasy that overwhelms you.

You can feel yourself growing wetter by the moment under his ministrations, and when Joel finally takes your clit into his mouth with a soft suckling sound that echoes in the quiet room, it's almost too much to bear. He sucks gently at first before increasing the pressure until your whole body tenses and shudders with release.  As the waves of pleasure crash over you, Joel's mouth never leaves your sensitive flesh. He laps at you with long, languid strokes, drawing out your orgasm until you're left trembling and gasping for air. Your body is still pulsing with the aftershocks when he finally pulls back, his lips glistening with your arousal.

He looks up at you, his eyes dark with lust. "You taste as sweet as I imagined," he growls, his voice rough with desire. He brings his fingers to his mouth, sucking them clean with a groan of satisfaction. The sight of him tasting you is incredibly erotic, and you feel a fresh surge of arousal at the thought of him enjoying your pleasure so thoroughly. "Come on now, be a good girl and follow me,”  he says, rising to his feet. He reaches for the chain between the handcuffs, using it to guide you off the desk and toward the plush leather couch that sits against the far wall of his office. 

You stumble slightly, still dizzy from your orgasm, but Joel's strong arm wraps around your waist, holding you steady. He positions you on the couch, your back against the soft leather and your hands still cuffed, placing them above your head. He kneels beside you, his body looming over yours as he captures your lips in a searing kiss. You can taste yourself on his tongue and it makes you dizzy. "Spread those pretty legs for me, darlin'," he murmurs against your lips, and you comply without hesitation, eager for whatever he has planned next. He reaches down to stroke your inner thighs. "You're so wet for me, so ready," he says, his voice filled with approval.

He positions himself between your legs, the tip of his cock nudging against your slick entrance. You look up at him, your eyes meeting his in a silent plea for more. He responds with a slow, deliberate thrust that fills you completely. The sensation of him inside you is overwhelming, and you can't help but cry out in pleasure.

"That's it, such a goodgirl, aren’tcha?" he groans, beginning to move inside you with a rhythm that quickly has you panting and writhing beneath him. "I know baby, s'big but you can take it darlin. C’mon take me inside that pretty pussy.”

His thrusts grow more urgent, more demanding, and you meet each one with a desperation that matches his own. The sound of skin on skin fills the room, punctuated by your cries of pleasure and his low, guttural moans.

Joel's hand snakes between your bodies, his fingers finding your clit and rubbing it in time with his thrusts. The added stimulation is almost too much to bear, and you feel another orgasm building within you, stronger and more intense than the first. "Come for me, darlin'," he commands. "Wanna feel you make a sweet mess on my cock."

His words push you over the edge, and you explode around him, your body convulsing with the force of your release. He continues to thrust through your orgasm, drawing it out until you're left limp and boneless beneath him. 

Just as the waves of your orgasm subsides, Joel slowly withdraws from you, leaving you feeling empty and exposed. He stands before you, his cock glistening with your arousal, and there's a predatory glint in his eyes that sends a thrill of anticipation through you.

"On your knees, darlin'," he commands, his voice a low growl that brooks no argument. You scramble to obey, the handcuffs clinking together as you shift your position on the couch. He steps closer, his cock at eye level, and you can't help but lick your lips in anticipation.

Joel's cock is a sight to behold—a testament to his virility and raw masculinity. It's thick and long, with a prominent vein running along the underside that pulses. The shaft is smooth and warm to the touch, the skin soft yet taut over the steel-hard erection beneath. His girth is substantial. The head of his cock is a deep shade of pink, almost purple with engorgement, and it glistens with a bead of precum that entices you like the sweet promise of a popsicle on a sweltering summer day. You can't help but lean forward, extending your tongue to taste him. The salty-sweet flavor of his essence dances on your taste buds as you lap at him, eliciting a deep groan of pleasure from Joel that vibrates through his body and into yours.

"Open wide," he instructs, his hand fisting his shaft as he guides himself toward your waiting mouth. You part your lips obediently, and he slides inside, filling your mouth with his impressive girth. He tastes musky and salty, a heady combination that makes your head spin.

"That's it, baby girl," he groans, his fingers threading through your hair as he begins to thrust gently into your mouth. "Take it nice and deep."

You relax your throat, trying to accommodate his size as he sets a steady rhythm, fucking your mouth with slow, deliberate thrusts. You can feel the head of his cock hitting the back of your throat, and you fight the urge to gag, wanting to please him, to show him that you can handle everything he gives you.

"Such a good girl," he praises, his words spurring you on. "You look so fucking beautiful with my cock in your mouth."

His praise washes over you, filling you with a sense of pride and arousal. You moan around him, the vibrations making him hiss with pleasure. His grip on your hair tightens, and he pulls you closer, pushing deeper into your throat.

"Fuck, yes," he groans, his hips jerking as he hits the perfect spot. "Just like that. Don't stop."

You can feel the tension building in his body, the way his thighs tremble slightly with each thrust. You know he's close, and the knowledge that you're the one bringing him to the edge fills you with a sense of power.

Suddenly, he pulls out, his cock leaving your mouth with a wet pop. "Not yet," he says, his voice strained. "Wanna come inside ya baby, make a mess in that tasty cunt."

He helps you to your feet and guides you back to the desk, bending you over it so that your ass is in the air and gives you a light smack to one cheek. He reaches between your legs, his fingers easily sliding into your soaked pussy. "Goddamn baby, you're still so wet," he marvels, his fingers pumping in and out of you with a rhythm that quickly has you panting for more.

Without warning, he pulls his fingers out and replaces them with his cock, slamming into you with a force that makes you cry out in surprise and pleasure. He sets a brutal pace, his hips slapping against your ass with each powerful thrust.

"You feel that, darlin'?" he growls, his hands gripping your hips tightly. "That's me claiming what's mine."

His words send a jolt of desire through you, and you push back against him, meeting each thrust with one of your own. You can feel another orgasm building, the pressure coiling low in your belly.

"Come for me one more time," he commands, his hand reaching around to strum your clit with quick, expert strokes. "Wanna feel you milk my cock."

His words push you over the edge, and you come around him, your entire core pulsing around his girth and with a final, powerful thrust, Joel buries himself deep inside you, his cock pulsing as he finds his own release. You can feel him filling you up, the warmth of his seed spreading through you as he groans out his pleasure.

Spent, he collapses on top of you, his body heavy and sated. After a moment, he pulls out and helps you to stand, his hands gentle as he uncuffs you and massages your wrists.

"You are somethin’ else that's for sure babygirl," he murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. 

You smile up at him, "I'm glad I could make you feel good," you reply with a soft voice.

Joel chuckles and gives you a quick, playful swat on the ass. "Make me feel good? Baby girl, you blew my mind."

He reaches into a drawer and pulls out a sleek, black whip. "Next time," he says, holding it up for you to see, "we can play with this. But for now, I think we've both had enough excitement for one day."

You stand there for a moment, still reeling from the intensity of your encounter, and then you remember—your dress is in tatters on the floor. You gather the remnants of your clothing, holding them up in front of you like a shield. "What do I do about this?" you ask.

Joel looks at you with a mischievous grin, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "What size are you, darlin'?" he asks, reaching for his phone on the desk.

You tell him your size, still feeling a bit flustered as he dials a number and speaks into the receiver. "Hey, Lexi? Yeah, I need you to pick up a dress for our guest here.” He looks at you questioningly, and you repeat your size for his benefit. "Got it. And make it something nice—surprise me.” There's a brief pause as he listens to his assistant's response before hanging up the phone with a satisfied nod. "Lexi will take care of everything," he assures you with a wink that sends butterflies fluttering in your stomach once again despite yourself.

True to his word, less than twenty minutes later, there's a knock on the office door. Lexi, Joel's assistant, enters the room with a professional smile and several shopping bags from high-end boutiques. "Here you go, Mr. Miller," she says, setting them down next to where you're standing, like this is completely normal. "I hope these will suffice."

"Thank you, Lexi," Joel responds with a nod of appreciation. "I'm sure they'll be perfect." Lexi exits the room as quickly as she came in, leaving you once again alone with Joel. He gestures toward the bags with a playful smile. "Go on, darlin'. Pick your favorite."

You rummage through the bags and find an elegant black dress that looks like it would fit you perfectly. It's sophisticated yet sexy—just like the man who bought it for you. With a shy smile, you hold it up for Joel to see.

"Perfect choice," he says approvingly. "Why don't you try it on?"

You slip into the dress, feeling its soft fabric hug your curves in all the right places. When you turn around to show Joel, his eyes light up with appreciation. "You look stunning," he murmurs sincerely while walking over towards where you were standing before wrapping an arm around your waist then pulling you closer so he could whisper into your ear "But then again I knew you would." His words send shivers down your spine causing goosebumps to form all over your skin despite how warm it was inside his office at this moment.

 As Joel takes a moment to drink in the sight of you in the new dress, you can't help but feel a deep sense of satisfaction. The way his eyes darken with desire, even after everything you've shared, is intoxicating. It's clear that his interest in you isn't just a fleeting attraction—it's something much deeper and more intense.

You smile at him, your heart fluttering in your chest. "Thank you, Joel," you reply softly. "For everything."

He chuckles and shakes his head slightly. "Don't thank me yet, darlin'. The day's still young. Now what do you say I get ya home safe."

With that tantalizing promise hanging in the air between you, Joel helps you into your coat—a thoughtful gesture that makes you feel cared for. He escorts you out of his office and down to the parking garage where his sleek black sports car is waiting. The ride back to your place is filled with easy conversation and shared laughter, the chemistry between you two undeniable and electric.

When he pulls up in front of your building, he turns off the engine and turns to face you. "I had a great time with you today," he says sincerely, reaching out to tuck a stray lock of hair behind your ear. "I hope this isn't the last time I get to see that beautiful smile of yours."

You look up at him through your lashes, feeling bold despite the vulnerability coursing through you. "I don't think that will be a problem," you say with a playful smirk. 

Joel grins back at, “that's my good girl.” 

As you step out of the car, the cool  air wraps around you. You turn to say goodbye, but he's already getting out of the driver's seat, coming around to your side of the car.

"Let me walk you to your door," he says, offering his arm with a gentlemanly charm that belies the fiery passion you've shared. You accept with a nod, and together, you walk toward the entrance of your building.

The silence between you is comfortable, filled with the unspoken knowledge of what transpired between you two. As you reach your door, you turn to face him, your heart pounding in your chest. "Thank you again, Joel, for today," you say softly, "for everything."

Joel smiles at you. "The pleasure was all mine," he replies with a wink and leans in close enough that his breath ghosts over your lips when he speaks again. "But I have a feeling we're just getting started."

With those words hanging in the air between you like a promise of more incredible days to come, Joel takes a step back and heads back toward his car parked by curbside leaving only echoes behind him.

As the door to your building clicks shut behind you, you lean against it. The memory of his touch, his kiss, his words—they all send shivers of delight coursing through your veins. You can't help but smile to yourself as you replay the events of the day in your mind, each moment more thrilling than the last.

You're startled out of your reverie by the buzzing of your phone in your purse. Fishing it out, you see a notification on the screen - a new message from Joel. Your heart skips a beat as you open it, curiosity and excitement mingling within you.

1:07PM: Can't wait to unwrap that pretty little package again." 

The words alone are enough to send a jolt of desire through you, but then you notice an attachment—a picture. With trembling hands, you open it and find exactly what you were hoping for - a photo of Joel's large burly hand wrapping around his even thicker, larger cock, hard and ready for you once more. You realize he must have taken that in his car.

Your breath catches in your throat as you take in the sight of Joel's arousal, so potent and vivid on your screen. The knowledge that he's thinking about you, that he's hard and ready again so soon after your encounter, sends a thrill of power through you. You type out a quick response, your fingers flying over the keys with a boldness that matches the newfound confidence he's awakened in you.

1:10PM I hope you're not driving and texting that picture. Keep your eyes on the road, Mr. Miller.  you tease, adding a winking emoji for good measure.

His response is almost immediate, a testament to his eagerness. 

1:10PM Don't worry, darlin'. I'm parked outside your building. Couldn't resist sending you a little something to dream about tonight.

You can't help but smile at his words, your body already aching for his touch once more. But before you can respond, another message comes through with an address.

1:11PM Tomorrow, 8 PM. My place. Wear something comfortable and easy to take off.

1:12PM Yes sir.

1:13PM Oh baby you're walking Into whole new territory calling me sir. I'm going to put that pretty mouth to good use tomorrow.

Just as you're about to put your phone down a last message comes through 

1:13PM And leave the underwear at home.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Can't Have One Without the Other 3

Warnings: non/dubcon, marital troubles, body insecurity, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Bucky Barnes

Summary: your marriage is on the rocks.

Note: I asked about husbands and all your hoes said Bucky (with a few Sy’s in the middle). I wasn’t intending on a whole series but I thnk it would be fun to have husband!Bucky turn a bit desperate.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

After you clean up the mess, you stay in your office. Bucky is stubborn. He's not going to run away. No, you hear him searching the house for what doesn't exist.

You finish the panels. You don't feel accomplished. You shut off your tablet but linger at your desk. You find some courage and get up.

You go into the kitchen quietly and do your best not to make noise. It doesn't matter, you know he can hear you. You take out the steak and rub some spice into it. It's easier than the marinade.

You set to quartering potatoes for a max, the starch sticking to your skin. You rinse off and check the green beans. They'll do.

"Is that your apology?" Bucky asks.

You dump the potatoes from the cutting board to the boiling water. You set the board down and face him. You frown.

"You really believe it?" You murmur.

"I don't know what to believe," he tilts his head, leaning on the door frame, a hand on his hip.

Your cheek twitches and you touch it, stilling the nervous tic. You repeal your hand and hide it behind you.

"I didn't. I know you know I'm telling the truth. You can hear it." 

He narrows his eyes, "maybe you didn't follow through, but you know, going out, flirting, it's all the same--"

"I wasn't flirting," you insist. "I'm not that type. Bucky," you set your feet. "Shouldn't I be mad you ignored my calls?"

"While I'm out there fighting off the bad guys? I can't always get to the phone," he struts across the kitchen.

"You could text me between all that," you insist.

"Got a lot on my mind when I'm out there. Now I'm gonna be worried about you and the bike jockey--"

"Really?" You grimace.

"I married you for a reason, didn't I? Why wouldn't another guy try it? Seeing you without your ring on..."

"I told you, I forgot."

"Yeah, forgot about me," he accuses.

You shake your head. You show your palms in exasperation and turn away. There's nothing you can say, nothing but what he wants to hear.

"I'm sorry about the rings. I really am. It wasn't on purpose but I'm sorry. And I'm sorry I didn't kiss you, I'm sorry I'm out of it. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm... sorry I'm not good enough," You drop your arms and shrug. "I'm sorry I'm not patient or strong."

You turn your back to him and grab a wooden spoon to stir the potatoes. He sighs. It blows over you like a winter draft.

"I never said any of that--"

"You accused me of cheating," you tense. "You thought all of it."

"Christ, I'm trying to talk to you."

"Then say it, Bucky. Say what you want from me because I can't read your mind," you put the spoon down and grab the waiting skillet. "I haven't talked to you in over a month and I'm supposed to just act like nothing. I'm supposed to be okay." You slam the pan down, "I'm not okay."

"Baby--"

"Don't baby, me," you warn as you move down the counter to toss the beans in seasoning.

He nears and you go rigid. You ignore him as he gets close. He stretches his arm past you and grips the counter. He pushes himself against your back.

He nuzzles the back of your head, "I missed you. I really did. Can you blame me for getting... jealous? I got the greatest gal in the world waiting for me and I come back to see her with another guy--"

"I wasn't with him," you drone.

"Please, I'm sorry," he coaxes as his breath puffs over your scalp.

You inhale and stare at the wall, "for what?"

"For... for hurting you."

"How?" You rasp. "Tell me how you hurt me."

"Why are you doing this? I'm apologising," he clucks.

You frown, "alright, Bucky. I gotta finish up here."

He's quiet. He drags his hands off the counter and grips your hips. You wince and stop him, wavering on your feet.

"It's just nice to touch you," he growls.

"Bucky," you cringe as he kneads the extra flesh.

"You feel so good," he pushes against your ass.

"I can't. The potatoes," you shove his wrists.

"Let them burn," he slithers.

There's something there. That flicker inside. The one that wants him. It's dulled by the thought of him seeing you. The reality of what you've become. The idea of him seeing all of you makes you sick.

"That's..." you touch his hand. "Let me," you face him and force a smile. "Alright?"

"Baby, I wanna--"

"Shhh," you press a finger to his lips. His eyes flash. How can he look at you like that? Like you're not repulsive.

Because it's been a month. Because he's desperate. It's not you he wants, he just needs relief.

You slip your hand to his chest, your other along his pants. You taste pile as you unzip him. He shivers. You push your hand down his boxers and grip him. He squeezes your hip and grabs your head. He pulls you closer and presses his lips to your forehead.

He puffs as you stroke him. You stare at the top of his chest. 

It doesn't take long. He quakes and grunts, and spills inside his pants. It spears onto your fingers and palm. 

You pull your hand free as he cups your chin. He brings your head up and kisses you on the lips. You move your mouth with his, mimicking him, and he hums.

He parts and smiles. He pets your cheek and clears his throat as he backs away. You quickly turn away, your hand growing sticky.

"So, I'll finish dinner..." you say as you wash him off.

"I'm more concerned with dessert," he chuckles.

You wonder if he can hear your disgust. Not with him, but yourself. Can he sense your apathy even? Does he care? Why should he? He always gets what he wants.

[eroscomet]

Make it Right

Chapter two- Hauting for Home

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Paring: Astrid Deetz x Fem!Ghost!Reader

Warnings: Mentions death, a bit angsty, bad writing. (Let me know if I missed anything!)

Word count: 3k+

A/N: Hello, lovelies! I'm so sorry that this chapter took a while to make. I was busy on the weekend; however, I found time to finally finish the chapter for you all! I really do hope you guys enjoy this one! I will try to get a specific schedule for updates on certain stories. If you guys are wondering about updates for 'Picking Up Pieces That Aren't Yours,' I will try to update that as soon as possible. I will also be doing a couple drabbles on different characters and or drabbles of characters I've already written for. I would also like to thank you guys so much for all the support you all have been showing me! I am so thankful and grateful for each and every one of you! Thank you so much for every like, reblog, and comment, it means a lot to me!

Not proof read

╰┈➤Series Masterlist

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"You talked to my dad?!" Astrid had exclaimed with an amused smile on her face. There it was, that twinkle in her eye that you had missed so much. She hadn't been very happy recently, with you not around and everything else in her life that had been happening.

"Yeah, when I had first died. I got sent to the immigration office, and what do you know? There he was behind the glass. He's just as kind as you always told me he'd be. Surprisingly, he immediately recognized me. He told me that he had been watching after you and practically watched our love 'blossom,' as he put it." The two of you continued walking outside.

You couldn't help but think about how people must be seeing this. Astrid looked as if she were talking to herself from an outside perspective. Aware of her past, you knew people had a tendency to bully her, so when nearing Miss Shannon's School for Girls, you tried to get her to talk as much so that others wouldn't look at her funny. So, you took up most of the time on the way there, talking as much as she could so that she didn't have time to talk. Which was odd because she was usually the one who'd talk while you'd listen.

"He said he liked me, which is a relief. Sometimes, I feel like your mom is more confused but is trying to be supportive. I mean, remember when I had first come over, and she started talking about how she too 'experimented' as she said. Anyway, that isn't the point. I met your dad, and we actually frequently visited you together. It's funny, sometimes we'd bond over how much we missed you."

Astrid's eyes had furrowed as she had begun to notice that every time she began or wanted to speak, you only spoke faster, almost sputtering out information. A frown tugged at your lips as she had caught on.

"I just don't want people to look at you even more weirder than they already do. If you're talking to yourself, they'll find that an easy target. Try...putting on some headphones and pretending you're on the phone? Or you can just put your phone up to your ear?"

She smiled as she took her phone out of her pocket and brought it up to her ear.

"Thanks, you're right. So, what else did he say about me? Did you see my grandfather? What's the afterlife like?" Astrid felt like she had a million different questions to ask.

"Your dad says he's proud of you and that he sees himself in you all the time. As for your grandpa, no. I mean, I feel as if it's harder to find him since he did lose his head to a shark. The afterlife is a bit weird. I can't tell you much about it since I haven't exactly crossed over. I basically only know what headquarters and a few shops look like. I mean, there's a 'Soul Train' which essentially takes you to the 'Great Beyond,' but I never went because I don't want to risk not being able to watch over you."

You grabbed Astid's shoulders, moving beside her to walk toward the street end of the sidewalk. Even though you were dead, the sidewalk rule never really left you, even while Astrid couldn't even see you.

"Yeah, I figured. I almost can't believe that a shark bite ended his life, I knew my family wasn't normal, but we can't even have a somewhat normal death? The Great Beyond, huh? Soul Train is a clever name though. Does no one know what's on the side?"

"I mean, I've never seen someone leave then come back from the train in the full year, almost two years that I've been here. I'm not taking the risk and crossing anyway, I can't lose you again after we just got back to each other."

"You're right..." Her eyebrows furrowed, her attention on the sidewalk as they continued to walk. She thought to herself for a moment before speaking again.

"So, you don't have any ghost tricks you learned?"

"Of course, you'd ask that, would you be disappointed in me if I said I didn't?"

"I mean, you've been gone for a year almost two, I'd expect you to know at least something to make me feel better for all the time you've been gone."

"Okay, uhhh... I can walk through walls and, I guess, float a bit."

"That sounds like every other ghost."

"Just because i'm a ghost doesn't mean I have super powers, Astrid."

"Just saying."

"I mean, I do have this nasty scar from the accident." You lowered your shirt neckline, showing the scar on the lower part of your neck. Astrid winced at the scar before looking away.

"Right. Weird how all it took was one neck twist for you to die.

"Well, it's more like my neck twisted as if I was a cartoon character that got punched, and my head began spinning-"

"Ew, shut up. Don't talk about it like it's something light."

"I'm sorry, you're right."

It was silent for a bit as you guys walked into the school, Astrid opened one of the doors while you phased right through the other door. Astird put her phone back into her pocket as she walked upstairs and past the other students. You followed after her, your eyebrows furrowing at the other students nearby her dorm. Some of them whispering to each other while giggling.

That's when Astrid opened her dorm room's door, a bedsheet attached to the ceiling by a rope coming straight towards her. The bedsheet makes out a ghost with a 'Boo' sign in its chest area. Astrid stumbled back before turning around and looking at the other girls, who began to burst out into laughter behind her.

"When you're all driving carpool and banging your pilates instructor to fill the empty voids in your life, we'll see who gets the last laugh."

The girls smiles and laughs quickly died as she finished speaking. Astrid turned around as she went into her room, shutting the door behind her. You smiled proudly, a laugh escaping you as you saw the looks on the girls faces as they disburst from Astrid's door.

"Witty as always." You said as you phased through her dorm room's door. The make-shift ghost on the ceiling startling you a bit as you had almost 'ran' into it. Sometimes you forget you're a ghost even if it's been a year.

"They have not toned down with the comments? You had always been careful about this topic, not wanting to bring it up too much with Astrid.

"No." It was a simple and straightforward answer that made you not want to question further. A part of you felt angry that you were helpless to all of it now that you're dead. You had gotten so used to defending her against everyone but now your words would only fall on deaf ears.

You sighed as you plopped yourself onto her dorm room's bed, thinkiing for a moment on how to steer away the conversation of bullying that she obviously did not want to talk about.

"Did you hear that my sister's pregnant? I know that I shouldn't bother looking over them since they're perfectly fine.."

"I'm not surprised."

"She's naming the baby after me."

"God, that's ridiculous! Naming their kid after a relative who isn't even dead yet-" Astrid's voice faltered for a moment. The fact that you were dead and have been for almost two years was still a punch in the gut after all this time.

"That's what I said, baby." You offered her a small smile as you played into the bit that you were still alive for Astrid. She still wanted to make her at least feel a bit better.

'Baby.'

Your words - and your smile, even if it was for her benefit - just made Astrid's heart twist further in her chest.

"You're killing me here."

"Why?" Your head tilted to the side as you looked at her.

"Because you're supposed to be dead." Her voice came out in a strangled whisper as she looked down at the papers scattered on her desk.

You bit your lip, you didn't want to show that what Astrid had said hurt you. Even if you were dead, you still had emotions and feelings. You paused for a moment before deciding to drop the topic.

"So, they're having a baby shower. You should go."

"Oh god, a baby shower? Is it too late to make you disappear again?" Her face had immediately scrunched up with distaste at the idea of being forced to go to a baby shower - especially your self-centered sister's baby shower where she'd name her child after you for her own gain.

"Come on, you couldn't see me for a whole year, and now that you're finally able to, you already want to get rid of me? That's cold, babe, even for you. Even for me who's dead cold. Get it? Huh? Dead cold. Because i'm dead? And i'm cold now because I have no blood. No? Okay."

"Oof, that was horrible." She said as she shook her head and grumbled in response.

"Come on, admit you missed me. I heard all your late-night talks that you thought weren't reaching my ears."

"I did miss you - I've missed you for a whole year." She confessed, sounding a bit surprised by her own confession. The room fell silent, the weight of everything that had happened falling onto the both of them. Neither of them wanted to address it, though, they didn't want to have to deal with it now.

"Did you ever-" She paused for a moment as she thought of the right words to say, "When I'd lay in your bed and mope, were you just...watching me?"

"No, I hated that. I'd still do what I would've done if I were alive. I tried holding you and whispering sweet nothings into your ear that never got to you."

"Sweet nothings, huh?" She teased, which earned an eye roll from you. Again, the room had fell silent as the two were lost in thought before Astrid spoke again, breaking the silence.

"How bad did it hurt?"

"Uh.. Well... I just remember being on the ground one second, then in the air the next. I landed, and well- You know what. It had hurt for that second that I was alive, but it had been an instant death if anything."

Having to talk about your death wasn't an easy topic. It was a reminder of how quick you had lost it all. The blood in your system, the beat of your heart, Astrid. The sight of you nervously fidgeting with your own fingers made Astrid's heart ache.

"I hate that." She muttered, her voice coming in strained, almost as if she was forcing herself to get the words out.

"I'm sorry." Your words were mumbled as she continued to fidget with your fingers, now more anxiously than before. The apology caused Astrid to shut her eyes, trying to hold herself together. She felt that now was not the time to start breaking down.

"Don't. Don't apologize." She had almost snapped at you as she opened her eyes to shoot a glare at you.

"Okay." You were never one to go against her word, you didn't want to start a fight. Especially not now. All you could do was bring up one of your hands, beginning to gently pull on the hairs on the back of your neck as you avoided Astrid's eyes.

"Is that a nervous habit of yours now? Pulling your hair." She asked as she reached her hand out idly to brush your hair out of your eyes.

"I had gotten it when I first reached the afterlife. When you watch the people you love hurting, and all you can do is ghost around them..." Your voice had faltered, forcing yourself to clear your throat and then begin to speak again.

"You feel so helpless. Watching everyone who used to be around you and love you so miserable about your death. It makes you feel guilty but, most of all, useless. There's no way to hold, touch, talk to, comfort them... It's hard."

The room had fallen silent after your words. Astrid's fingertips gently brushed along the back of your head - tracing the place that you usually pulled at. She let her hand rest there, trying to keep you from pulling at your hair again.

"How cold am I?"

Your words made Astrid pause for a moment. Leaning closer to you as she wrapped an arm around her now ghost girlfriend. The chill of your skin made her shiver involuntarily - but Astrid tried not to show the way her body automatically wanted to shy away from the cold.

"Really damn cold. It's like you're an ice cube almost." Her words a mumble as she got closer to you, laying next to you as she rested her head on top of yours.

"I'm sorry that I'm not warm anymore." Your own words come out as a mumble as well, instinctively, your head rests on her shoulder.

"I know you don't much like when it's really cold. I thought I was keeping myself with this sweater but now that someone's actually able to touch me, I realize it's doing nothing for me."

"Gosh, you don't have to apologize for that. At least you're here." She pulled you closer against her, her arms wrapping around your waist - burtying her face into your shoulder, even if your skin was freezing and caused a slight burn against her own warm skin. She ignored the way that her body had involutarily shivered at the contact - focusing instead on the fact that her girlfriend was here.

"Barely." You mumbled quietly as you gently pulled away from your girlfriend, knowing that you were probably burning Astrid's skin with your own cold, dead skin that was now a pale blue hue.

"Don't be like that. You're talking as if you have no more hope."

"Death has a way of doing that."

Astrid let out a quiet huff at your words. Her eyes flickered back and forth from you and her own hands that were now gripped tightly on her bedding - but in the next moment, she let go. Almost as if with a full burst of speed, she darted to you. Her arms wrapping around your body, hauling you into her bed in a tight, crushing embrace.

"Astrid-" You had said in surprise and protest. You knew that you were cold. Dead. The cold would burn Astrid at one point, and you didn't want that. Not when you used to be alive and warm for her. You used to keep her warm and now you can only burn her with your icy dead skin.

"Don't even think about complaining. I don't care if you're cold." Astrid snapped as she held you impossibly close against her. Her body shivered once again as your cold skin was like a bucket of cold water dumped over her body - but she ignored the cold, focusing on the sensation of her girlfriend in her arms.

A frown had tugged at your lips, knowing that eventually, Astrid would get too cold, but after a year of being a lone ghost who watched your loved ones move on or suffer because of you, you couldn't help but be a little selfish. Your arms wrapped around her as tightly as you could.

You missed your girlfriend so much. Watching over her for a year, her suffering for a full year over your death, had done a number on you. You'd cry if you could, but all you felt was this deep internal sadness. You had no heartbeat, you had no blood to warm your body, you had no tears to shed from your dry eyes. Your chest was the most still it had ever been, you had no air to breathe anymore.

It had begun to feel like too much for the both of them. Being this close to each other after a year of thinking they'd never be able to have contact again, feeling each other's skin despite the feeling of a small burning on her own skin from your own. It was almost enough to make Astrid cry.

The cold was beginning to seep into her skin - making her shiver and leaving her skin prickled. But Astrid wouldn't - couldn't - let go of you. Not when it had been a year since she was able to hold you. You had only frowned as you held her tighter. A small hiss escaped Astrid from the cold contact as she tried to get herself impossibly closer to you.

"Damn it, it's getting too cold." She hissed, speaking between clenched teeth as she tried to bury her face into your shoulder further.

"Warm up with the blankets, I'll just lay beside you. I promise I won't disappear." You pulled away, gently moving Astrid off of yourself as you carefully pulled her bedsheets over her body. When you finished tucking her in, you lay beside her, admiring every detail you could land your eyes on.

She only huffed a bit, feeling oddly petulant about the fact that she had to let go of you However, she did as she was told. A small shiver rattled her body as her eyes locked onto yours. She managed to mumble something incohereently as she reached for you, trying to tug you close again.

"Too cold, baby. Just give it a moment. I'm here, you see me." You tried to reassure her as you gently tugged a strand of hair behind her ear.

'Baby.' The soft nickname only made her want to pull you close again, but she knew that you were right. Her body was cold - skin still pricked and burned from being in contact with her girlfriend. She snuggled further into the bedding, her hand gently reaching out to yours. Linking her own pinky with yours, causing you to smile. Her eyes looked into yours as if asking if it was okay to which you had nodded.

┗━━━✦❘༻♡༺❘✦━━━┛

A/N: I don't know why this felt like such a short chapter to me despite it being the most words I've written so far?? I might have some filler chapters for this and 'Picking Up Pieces That Aren't Yours' sometimes. Then again, there is still a lot to write for the storyline themselves. Thank you, lovelies, for all the support on my posts! I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter. I'm so sorry if some days I do not have time to update. Also, if there's anyone that wants to be tagged for updates on this story, leave a comment saying so! Bye, loves!

[furifurii]

since you, the reader has school going for you, you rarely play honkai star rail.

the characters would always wonder where you went, or what you were doing outside of their world. they can still hear your voice, but very, very faintly. they would sometimes hear a name they would not recognize and idk, maybe just go:

"who the hell is diluc and why is he so hot??"

they would also listen in to your conversations whenever they would hear your voice. even if it's you talking to yourself about history, or you talking to your friends about things unrelated to their world. they wouldn't really mind. maybe just a little bit.

but when you go back to the game, the characters would be overjoyed and would try to make you stay there longer.

even going as far as to secretly double the stellar jades you would receive during quests or missions. and missing the excitement of pulling for new characters, you would gladly warp for the new characters on limited banners.

they would ask silver wolf to hack into the system to boost your chances of getting a character or the light cone you were pulling for. they would push each other aside just so they can appear on your screen for you to gush over how you got another copy of a character or celebrating when you got all of the eidolons of one character that you really liked.

just seeing you being happy just makes them want to spoil you even more, just so you will stay playing with them, forever.

but when you suddenly stopped playing the game while they were trying their hardest to give you what you wanted, you realised, oh, there's school tomorrow. so you decided to turn off the game for the time being and go to sleep.

but they couldn't let you go just like that! that would be ridiculous.

for a few days just before you played the game again, the cast begged for anyone who could take them to your world. just sitting idly on your device's screen and listen to your voice wasn't cutting it anymore.

they want to see— they needed to see you, to actually have an actual conversation with you and not just talk to you through this game's script. it wasn't enough for them to be living behind the screen for you to just watch, they wanted to show you that they are actual tangible beings that call you their "creator" .

the main character had begged herta to do something about this, and she complied without any argument, to their confusion. usually she would be saying stuff like how she would just 'give up in the middle of it' ,, but she.. didn't? nonetheless, they were grateful to have herta agree with creating a portal to your world.

as soon as the characters caught wind of this, they were ecstatic. they had left their duties just to hop on the astral express and to herta's space station, to finally see you, to meet you.

in herta's office, it was packed with all the playable characters, waiting. some patiently waiting, some, not so much.

to see opposing groups of people being in the same room and not being at each other's throats were such a random thing to see, but they didn't care about that, no no, they only cared about you.

you, their "creator".. how could they miss this opportunity to be meeting their own creator, the one who gave them life, something to live for.

as herta was finishing up some parts of the portal, you were sound asleep in your bed, snoring away in your weird sleeping position.

well, until you felt your blanket started to move with sudden gusts of wind. you heard a really loud thump, it didn't come from any rooms of your house, it didn't sound muffled when it happened. so it's,, in your room. but oh, would you look at that, your room is so dark you couldn't locate your phone which was usually near you to use it as a flashlight.

but what's that? you heard a voice , a very, very familiar voice.

———

yeah naur... i can't do this,, this sounds terrible i'm so sorry you had to read this sobsosb i am so soso sorryr

[jae-bummer]

Erasing Boundaries

Request: Hi I hope you're well~~I'd really like to see no.12 with Bang Chan from the prompt list. 👀 I'd also like to say that I've been a long time follower and I really love reading your works! Thank you for putting the time and effort!! <3

Prompt:

12) When your bias tries to delicately friendzone you, they realize you just wanted to be friends in the first place. Shortly after, they realize they’re the ones falling for you.

Pairing: Stray Kids Bang Chan x Reader

Genre: Fluff

.

"We're just friends."

"You're a trustworthy person, Chan," Lee Know muttered from his spot on the studio couch. "So I don't understand why you're lying to me right now."

"I'm not lying!" Chan said, spinning around in his office chair. "I really don't have feelings for Y/N."

"Right," Lee Know muttered. "Because instead of multiple feelings, you have one feeling, and it is love."

"Seriously?" Chan groaned, flopping his head back. "Why are you even saying this?"

"You follow them around like a lovesick puppy," Lee Know sighed, pulling out his phone. "Don't think I haven't noticed."

"I feel insulted," Chan pouted. "I am not lovesick, nor am I a puppy."

"A lovesick wolf then."

Chan groaned again as he spun away from his younger member.

After a moment of silence, he turned back around. "Do you think Y/N has feelings for me?"

"Probably," Lee Know hummed, not bothering to look up. "But I thought you didn't have feelings for them."

"I don't!" Chan gasped. "Maybe...maybe I should talk to them."

"And confess? Good idea."

"No!" Chan chuckled. "To just confirm that we're friends and nothing more than that."

"Are you sure you really want to create that boundary?" Lee Know asked with lifted brows. "You're friend zoning yourself."

"I'm friend zoning, Y/N," Chan nodded. "This idea that we like each other romantically must have come from how they interact with me. I know I haven't been flirting."

"I'm sorry," Lee Know sighed. "Are you finally having a mental break? Or are we living two incredibly different lives?"

"I think you're seeing what you want to see," Chan nodded finitely.

"Hello, pot?" Lee Know laughed. "This is kettle. You're black."

"I can't be in a relationship right now," Chan sighed, switching tactics. "We've got too much going on."

"There are far too many arguments I can make," Lee Know muttered. "And frankly I'm exhausted."

"Good," Chan grinned. "I'll let you know how the talk goes."

"Please, don't."

..

"Why was your text so ominous?" you asked, plopping across Chan's bed. Taking a long sip from your frozen coffee, you looked up to see him pacing back and forth in front of you.

"Ominous?" he muttered. "It wasn't ominous. I just asked you to come over."

"You said we-" you cleared your throat, trying to pitch your voice deeper to match Chan's tone. ""needed to talk.""

"Well, it wasn't so much of a need as it is a want," he sighed, finally stopping and sitting down beside you.

You narrowed your eyes at your friend, trying to figure out what was going on in his head. Normally he had at least a hundred things swirling around up there, but today seemed to have a hundred and one.

"You're kind of starting to freak me out," you grumbled, sitting up from your lounging position to better look at him.

"No need," he said quickly. "I just...I wanted to make sure something was clear between us."

"Okay..." you trailed off.

"We're friends, yeah?"

"If we weren't, I'd consider the past year to be a cruel joke," you teased, but instantly stopped as Chan's face remained solemn.

"Chris?" you squeaked. "We are friends...right?"

"Of course, we are!" he gasped, moving to squeeze your knee, but stopping short. Taking a moment to compose himself, he finally swiveled toward you. ""Y/N, you're one of my people."

Your heart gave a small flip. Chan was one of your people too. As someone you could always go to for advice or comfort, he reminded you of the type of guy who was your older sibling's friend that you always had a childhood crush on. You reconciled long ago that someone like him was out of your league, or at least that was your perception of it.

"And as one of my people, I want you to know how important you are to me."

"Chris," you hummed, holding your hand up in the air. "This is awfully sentimental for a Thursday afternoon."

"Right," he winced. "I'll save you my speech that I definitely didn't take an hour figuring out last night."

Your eyes grew wide.

"Joking," he chuckled unconvincingly.

You would find out later that he, in fact, was not joking.

"Long story short," he continued, unable to meet your eyes. "We're friends."

"Yep."

"Just. Friends." he said, emphasizing each word.

"Hearing you loud and clear," you nodded, still unsure what the climax of the conversation would be.

"Good, good," he nodded, reaching toward the drink you had brought him. "So, how was your day?"

"Wait, I'm sorry," you coughed. "Was that it?"

"Well, yeah," he said, furrowing his brow. "Why?"

"I legitimately had anxiety on my way over here," you gasped. "And it was simply for you to tell me something I already knew?"

"You had anxiety?" Chan pouted, his expression soft. "That wasn't my intention at all! It's just that the members kept hinting to me that they thought we were involved, and I wanted to make sure the record was set straight with everyone and-"

"Take a breath, Chris," you sighed. You patted him lightly on the shoulder. "I may have had anxiety, but I also am relieved to know it was over something so silly. I know we're friends."

"We are," he nodded. "You're the Patrick to my SpongeBob, the-"

"Wait, why do I have to be Patrick?" you muttered.

"Because you live under a rock and can't open a jar on your own," he grinned.

"Ah, right," you teased. "And you're SpongeBob because you never stay hydrated and have an unhealthy fixation with your job."

"Low blow, Y/N."

"The truth hurts, doesn't it?"

...

"I messed up."

"You're right," Lee Know hummed. "We should have given Hyunjin up for adoption years ago. Should I start looking for the closest fire station?"

"That is not what I meant," Chan muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I messed up with Y/N. Bad."

"Please," Lee Know said quietly. "Please tell me you did not do what I think you did."

"I made it clear how we are thoroughly, only friends," Chan winced.

Lee Know inhaled deeply through his nose before holding it and letting it out through his mouth.

"Aren't you going to say anything?" Chan whispered.

"Give me a minute," Lee Know grumbled. "My therapist taught me to focus on my breathing when I wanted to get violent."

"Minho," Chan deadpanned.

"Yes, I know, you're my hyung, and I shouldn't speak to you this way, but damnit, man!"

"I know!" Chan cried. "I messed up."

"As you keep saying!" Lee Know sighed. "Now how are you going to fix it?"

"Fix it?" Chan chirped. "I shouldn't just wallow in my misery?"

"Let's try this," Lee Know said slowly. "If the roles here were reversed, what would you tell me?"

Chan scrunched up his face. "Well, I guess I'd tell you that it's okay to make mistakes and this wasn't a serious one. No one is going to die, except you, maybe of embarrassment. You can try to clear your conscience and confess, or just really make a go at trying to be only friends."

"And that's when I would say...?"

"Full steam ahead, let's make an ass out of ourselves," Chan chuckled.

"Correct," Lee Know grinned. "So let Y/N know how you feel. How you really feel."

"One problem," Chan sighed. "In the process of me friend zoning them, I'm pretty sure they friend zoned me twice as hard."

"What do you mean?"

"They said they knew all along we were only friends."

"Do you think just maybe," Lee Know said, tilting his head. "They were following your lead?"

"I mean...maybe?"

"Well," Lee Know grinned. "Time to find out."

...

"Christopher Bang!" you gasped, flying through the front door of the dorm. "I swear on every star in the sky, and EVEN the one's on Felix's cheeks, that if you summon me again with a "we need to talk" text, I'm going to end you!"

"I don't have much tact when I'm nervous," Chan admitted from the living room sofa. He cringed as he looked up at you. "You look nice today."

"I don't want compliments!" you huffed. "I want an explanation!"

"Okay, and you deserve one," he said calmly. "But first, may I interest you in a beverage?"

"Stop stalling."

"Alright, alright," he grumbled. Pushing himself up from the cushions, he came to stand in front of you. It looked like he hadn't slept in days (which wasn't entirely uncommon) but it seemed to really be wearing on him more than usual. "Our conversation yesterday-"

"Wasn't much of a conversation," you finished. "More like just stating the obvious but continue."

"Whatever it was," Chan sighed. "I was wrong."

"You were...wrong?"

"Yes."

You bit your lower lip, not failing to notice the way it drew Chan's eyes. "So are you saying we're not friends?"

"We are," he said quickly. "But from my perspective, that isn't the full truth."

You waited, unsure of what that could possibly mean.

"I told you yesterday that you were one of my people," he said softly. "But that wasn't entirely accurate. If I was being truthful, with you and myself, I would have said you're my person."

Lifting your brows, you tried not to stagger back. Was he actually about to tell you that he had feelings for you? After you had resolved yourself to live with the shadow of unrequited love?

"I care about you in ways that a normal friend wouldn't," he continued. His voice remained quiet, but he had moved closer. "And I understand if you only see me in that brotherly way, that's okay. I get it, but I drove myself nuts last night playing over our conversation. It was a mistake to try to draw a boundary in our relationship, especially when I honestly wanted to erase any we did have."

"Chris-"

"I'm a mess," he whispered. "I'm stubborn and obsessive and make so many mistakes. I'm tired and worn out...but if you can accept all of that...I'll try to be the best version of myself for you."

You stayed quiet, only able to blink up at him as you processed this new information. It felt as if someone was blowing a balloon in your chest, and it was destined to pop at any moment.

"But also, no pressure," he said quickly. "I'd rather be your friend than nothing at all."

"Silly boy," you said softly, only mildly concerned that you would spook him if you came at the situation too enthusiastically. Crossing the small amount of space between the two of you, you stuck out your bottom lip. "I see the best version of you every day. It's just that some days, your best is going to look different depending on what you have to give. Every trait you listed as a weakness has a strength to it. You're stubborn, but that makes you determined. You're obsessive, but you're committed. And with every mistake you make, you learn. It's okay to recognize the flaws in yourself, but you have to recognize the other side of all that. I care about every side of you, Chris. Every day, some days, whatever you're willing to give...I'm going to take."

You could see Chan's eyes go glassy. "You have no idea how much I needed to hear that."

"Good," you smiled. "So yes, I care about you in a more than friend way."

You gave yourself a mental high five. Suddenly, the unattainable childhood crush knew you existed, and wanted you back. How often does that happen?

"I don't deserve you," he hummed, cautiously pulling you into his chest. Wrapping his strong arms around you, he gave a loving squeeze. "But I'm glad you think I do."

Kissing him playfully on the underside of his jaw, you laughed. "Shut up, SpongeBob."

[mxqdii]

WHERE IS PART THREE

IM LITTERALY DYING TI READ WHAT HAPPENS NEXTTTTTTY

also I have a request

so reader is dating Sam or Colby (you pick❤️). Reader is alone at a haunted location with just Sam or just Colby (does this make sense?) say it was Sam, they are just the two of them and say there were trespassers and they were threatening the two and reader has a panic attack and Sam defend them (Sam or Colby) and calm reader down on the way home.

is that doable?

when part three comes can you tag my other acc

@anythingsamandcolby

take my breath away - c.b

pairings: colby brock x reader

summary: a day with the boys doesn't go as expected

warning(s): panic attacks, mention of ghosts (??) idk.

a/n: so i see u said just the two of them, but i only realized after i finished writing it... i'm sorry! i hope this is still okay 😭

not proofread

"are you guys sure this is a good idea?" i say as me, sam and colby enter the gate

"too late now! unlocking that gate took forever" sam says, walking ahead

"we're all gonna die" i mumble sarcastically, scoffing at the boys skipping together joyfully

we decided not to vlog this one, since, well..

we're trespassing.

it's okay though! atleast that's what the boys told me (and what i'm telling myself)

"hey, you okay?" colby, my boyfriend, asks.

"yeah i'm fine, just worried about being shot by a police officer" i say, giving him a look

"calm down, we'll be fine!" he speaks over confidently

"whatever you say" i groan

"woah! guys this place is so cool, let's use the spirit box here" sam yells from ahead, taking off his backpack and grabbing the box

we all listen, hearing a few random meaningless words, until...

my phone starts buzzing, which makes us all jump

"sorry, my alarm- it's midnight if anyone cares" i say, signaling for us to get out of here

"leave" the spirit box says

"yes please- wait was that the box?" i mumble

"trespassing" the box says

"run"

"guys i don't like this.." i mumble, reaching over to grab colby, looking over realizing he's nowhere to be found

"g-guys?" i say, realizing i've been left alone with only the spirit box

"guys this isn't funny. you got me okay? i'm scared." i yell into the distance, hoping to be met with colby's voice or sams laughter

but i don't hear that, instead something worse

the bushes besides me start rustling, and i feel tears brim my eyes

"h-hello?" i almost whisper

this is too much. i wanna go home.

my legs start moving before i can think and i run back to the car, hoping to find sam and colby there, but no.

i realize, i don't have the keys, leaving me in the dark parking lot surrounded by woods, alone.

okay, it's fine, i'm fine, i'll call them.

NO SERVICE

this is when i start freaking out, because what am i supposed to do now??

the only thing i can think to do, cry.

i let myself lean against the locked car door, eventually curling into a ball on the floor

i'm currently a sobbing mess at midnight, alone and cold.

the more i'm sat here with my thoughts, the harder it gets to breathe, causing me to panic.

i try to calm my breathing but can't, colby always helped me with panic attacks, i need colby.

i don't know how much time passed, but eventually, i felt hands on my shoulders and looked up to see colby

thank god.

"colby-" i try to say more but the words get caught in my throat

"shh, baby it's okay. breathe for me okay?" he says

he sits down to my level, pulling me into his lap

"i'm so sorry. we thought it'd be funny to hide but we got lost, i'm so sorry baby that wasn't funny, i know." he hushes my cries, helping me with my breathing along the way

his hands stroking my hair and his smooth rhythm of breaths calm me down,.

(even though his heart is racing)

i snap out of my panic, looking up at him.

i shove my fist into his chest, not hard enough to hurt bad

(as if you could)

"ow!" he says, almost out of instict

"never do that again" i huff

"never again." he repeats back to me, kissing my forehead.

TAGLIST:

@opheliaofficial07 @stargirlv0id @strniolo @annaisabookworm @theperson-nextdoor @its-jennarose @thetriplets3 @anythingsamandcolby

[peanutpinet]

Hello!! I planned to check on your page in hopes to read some old/new fics and I was so glad I came across your recent one!! Thank you for that. I have a request for the mafia fics you make which are just *chef's kiss*

- Could you have Mark x female reader (same age, or the fem a bit younger) where they are both in a higher status who train the recruits and some of them disrespect the girl?

Please take your time- I know writing consistently can be hard (this is actually my second request and I can't wait for what more you have to bring!) Also I love that your fics are angsty but more fluffy which is what makes them great!!

Respect - Mafia! Mark Lee x Trainee! Fem Reader

A/N: hellow anon, I'm so sorry it took me eons to write this fic and am sorry if it didn't live up to your expectation but I hope you still find it enjoyable. I'm sorry to my fellow nctzens that I haven't been posting as well. Life happened and there's so much going around that has overwhelmed me but I'm slowly trying to work my way through the requests. I promise I'm trying to get your requests written!!

Also, your author went into the Love and Deepspace rabbit hole and well, you can probably guess who's my bias (cough*Sylus*cough). I had a thought of making a Jeno (Sylus) fic but we'll see if it'll come through the light of day but for now, I hope you enjoy my first-ever Mark fic on this blog.

Disclaimer: This is also part of the NCT mafia world/fic that I've created. The NCT members portrayed in this fic are not how they are irl. This is a work of FICTION!

Feedback is greatly appreciated!

Warnings: Mark being a mess, chaotic dreamies, mentions of drug, illegal drug selling, stuck-up annoying kid, no blood (for once in an NCT mafia fic), no torture (another surprise). NOT PROOFREAD!

ENJOY!!

“Hey Melk, don’t forget that you have to take charge of today’s recruits” Haechan shouted at what he likes to call, the ‘leader’ of dream

“You do know that I have a lot going around (literally irl as well, praying for Mark)?” Mark replied, as he was finishing some of the paperwork regarding the events from last weekend’s incident

“How’s Jisung holding up?” Mark asked whereas Haechan sighed seeing his hyung always taking care of his younger members rather than resting and taking care of his own health. “He’s doing fine. He actually got together with the girl which I’m not that surprised considering that he would always steal glances at her whenever he spotted her”

“Yo? Really? I never knew that he was close with the other recruits other than Eunji but I’m happy for him” Mark replied, still not looking away from the amount of paperwork

“Okay. That’s it” Haechan groaned and immediately yanked the paperwork away from Mark who was now yelling at him to give it back. “Lee Donghyuck!! Give it back, I swear if you rip it and make me redo the paperwork…”

“Relax, who said that I’m going to do that” Haechan scoffed right as the door to Mark’s office opened and revealed Jeno, Jaemin, and Renjun

“Yo Hyung, you looked really….” Jaemin was about to comment when Mark looked up to his younger members who stopped whatever comment they had and instead pitied their leader. “Really tired. Go take a break from all the paperwork, hyung. Just because you’re the leader of dream, doesn’t mean that you should shoulder all the burden on your own” Jaemin continued, taking pity of their leader and grabbed all the paperwork and folders that were scattered all over the desk

“Guys, I’m really fine. It’s not like I’ve never done this before” Mark tried to reason and his members took all the paperwork out of his reach

“Sure you have but we would prefer that you take care of your health for once. I’m going to let Doyoung and Taeyong-hyung that you need a break. When was the last time you had a proper break? Even Haechan got it” Renjun argued, taking his phone out and called Doyoung

Sighing, Mark leaned back on his chair whilst closing his eyes. “Guys, I promise you that I’m not overworking myself, it’s just that I honestly have no idea what to do even if I get the day off”

“Yea, I know, hyung. It’s getting out of hand. No, we need Taeyong-hyung. Okay, okay. Got it, hyung” Renjun got off the phone and Haechan asked if it was Doyoung-hyung. “Is it Doyoung-hyung? What did he say? Do I get the day off as well?”

Slapping Haechan, Renjun shook his head in annoyance. “Like hell you get the day off. You took a whole week off last month if you’ve forgotten about it. Taeyong-hyung is on his way”

Right as Renjun finished, they all heard a knock on the door and Jeno went to open the door to reveal Taeyong who looked like he just got back from a meeting with the fancy suit that he was wearing but his tie was slightly loose.

“Ehem, hyung, you might have gotten something around on your neck” Chenle teased as Taeyong wiped his neck to see a smear lip stain and brushed it off and went towards Mark

“Mark…” Taeyong called out to his younger member who was also a fellow leader

Looking up at his older hyung, Taeyong could see the dark circles that were under his eyes. Mark’s hair was clearly messy and his skin tone looked ashy. Sighing, Taeyong sat across Mark with his desk separating the two leaders. “Mark, you need to rest. I’m sorry I didn’t realise it sooner but I’ll ask the others to handle the paperwork that you were handling and you can have till the weekend off”

Widening his eyes, Mark shot up from his seat and placed his hands on the desk. “B-but Hyung, I swear I’m okay. Plus, I honestly don’t know what to do with my free time anyway. I just feel that just sleeping around would make me feel guilty. I swear I’ll take it easy”

“See, hyung. We think he completely lost it at this point” Haechan teased only to have Mark get up and smack the younger member

“Haechan, Mark” Taeyong mentioned and the two stopped bickering. “Mark, if you feel that you’re slacking off by taking a few days off then why don’t you help teach some classes? It’s been a while since you last taught a class because of your busy schedules”

“Right, there are some new recruits we’ve been eyeing to be part of the new sub-unit” Mark mentioned

Taeyong then slid the tab across the desk towards Mark who took it and looked through the schedules and recruits that they were training. He also had a look at who was the teaching assistant and his eye was caught on a girl. She was a year younger than him and was recruited around the same time as the 00 liners.

“(y/n)” Mark thought to himself

Of course, how could he have forgotten the girl who was impressive enough to be part of the same batch along with Jeno and Jaemin. She was so impressive that she managed to get to a rank just below the official NCT members. She was also the one that helped save Mark back during their early days as recruits when they had to spy on some influential conglomerate who was secretly corrupting their company’s money and was also cheating on their wife and kids.

“Hello?! Earth to Melk? Mork? Mek?” Haechan called out several times before Mark finally snaps back to reality

“H-huh? Sorry. It really has been a while since I’ve trained some recruits or even get into field exercises” Mark mentioned

Taeyong shook his head, chuckling as he got up from his seat. “Well, it’s a good time to get back into it, don’t you think?”

Taeyong patted Mark’s back as he headed towards the door and was about to leave but he stopped and turned to Mark and the dreamies. “By the way, Haechan, you’re not going to get any leaves for the next 4 months because you took a two whole weeks off in the past 2 months. Oh and Mark, be sure to look out for (y/n) and say hello to her for me”

As Taeyong left, the entire dream group went off with one conversation about how Haechan managed to sneak 2 weeks off and the other was teasing Mark about (y/n).

Time Skip to Training Month

The entire month, NCT would always conduct field lessons where the members would be divided into several groups, teach the new recruits of the actual field work then bring some of the new recruits at the end of the month with them for actual field work at where they can go hands on to what the members typically do while also learn where their strong skills are.

Mark was assigned to teach about spying and decoding some of the most basic conversation that could be a potential clue. Going into the class, the entire classroom seemed to still be wild yet he tried to get them to sit back down.

“Class? Yo guys?” Mark called out yet no one seemed to notice him which reminded him a lot of NCT Dream

Sighing, Mark was about to slam something to the desk when (y/n) and other teaching assistants came in, startling the entire classroom. “Attention everyone!” (y/n) shouted, the entire classroom sat down and Mark himself was slightly startled

One of the recruits even accidentally threw an object that was in their hand but Mark caught it right before it hit (y/n)’s face. “Alright, class. Welcome to this month’s field study about stealth and spying. I’ll be your main teacher, Mark. You can Mark me in your memory”

“Mr Mark, are you new here?” one of the recruits asked and Mark chuckled. “No, why?”

“Because it seems that you’re mistaken. Everyone here excels in the class and we’re only here for the action. So when are we going to go out for the real deal” the recruits joked around and (y/n) along with some of the higher ranks were about to stop them but Mark raised his hand, stopping them

“The real deal?” Mark chuckled, standing in front of the desk, putting both his arms on the desk behind him. “Alright then. If you want the real deal then tell me who the imposter is in this room. There’s someone in this room that’s not a recruit”

Immediately the entire classroom was a ruckus. Each of them questioned one another because while they were all recruits, they were all from different batches.

“Umm, sir, this can go on for the whole day if you don’t stop it” (y/n) mentioned as Mark turned to see the girl that he admired growing up to become a well-established woman in the group

“Hello? Mark?” (y/n) snapped her fingers in front of the NCT Dream’s leader’s face which snapped him back to reality. “Right, sorry”

Mark then walked away from the desk and headed to one of the groups that was having a heated conversation and pulled one of the “recruits’” jacket. “Haechan, I told you to stop sneaking in like this. Wait until I tell Taeyong about this”

Haechan who chuckly opened the hood of his hoodie just smiled at the tired Mark and waved at (y/n). “Hi (y/n). It’s been a while hasn’t it?” Haechan stated, skipping towards (y/n) who smiled but shook her head in disbelief. “Should’ve known that it was you, Haechan”

The entire class was in shock that another NCT member was in the room and no one recognised him at all. “Relax, I was just curious about the class you were teaching. Gosh, I knew Taeyong made sure that everyone out there didn’t know our identities but our own recruits not knowing who’s who?” Haechan chuckled, shaking his head as he walked towards the desk in front of the classroom. “Damn, either we’ve become desperate and recruited some unskillful people or they’re too spoiled and entitled to the point that they practically forgot what they’ve been taught, and well, from previous experience, it would be the latter”

Haechan was practically livid as he eyed the recruits. He knew some from training them a while back and he remembered a specific recruit that was so full of himself and one time even mistook his girlfriend for some silly new recruit and even nearly bullied her.

Haechan slowly walked toward one of the recruits, his gaze darkened and despite being around the same height as the recruit, he was still an NCT member. His aura screamed intimidating as if he had done so many bad things which sent the entire class silent. “Wouldn’t you say so, Nicholas?”

“Lee Haechan, I think that’s enough” Mark’s voice echoed through the classroom; it wasn’t a shout but rather a statement. The entire class could only watch two NCT members interact in silence. No one dared to talk to each other until Mark walked towards Haechan, his hand was on the younger member’s shoulder. “Haechan” Mark yanked the younger member and made him turn. “I said enough”

The two NCT members had a stare-off right as the bell rang. Sighing, Mark told the students to be prepared for the next lesson because he was going to bring them for a mini field assessment. “Alright, dismiss everyone”

One by one the students left the classroom along with some of the higher recruits and right as (y/n) was about to leave, Mark decided to ask her a favour. “Hey (y/n), I know that I might be asking a lot but would you mind sending me the entire background information of the students and an overview of what they’ve learned?”

“Sure thing. Anything else that you might need?” (y/n) asked, tilting her head which made Mark stutter a bit. “N-no, that’s all. Thanks (y/n). I appreciate it”

“No worries. I’ll umm, get going and get the things you need ready” (y/n) mentioned and left the classroom to just Mark and Haechan

“Haechan, what were you even trying to do with spying on the class? I didn’t even get to teach anything and…” Mark was starting to complain but Haechan’s serious tone cut him off. “Hyung. You should know that while I’m a prankster at times, I don’t really play around when it comes to work, and let me tell you, that kid, Nicholas, and his gang. There’s something not right about them. They thought my girlfriend was some new recruit and were about to bully her had Jeno not come and stop them”

Hearing Haechan be serious and explain this made Mark let out another long sigh and mess his hair up. “And? You kept an eye on them, right? What did you find, Haechan?”

Haechan looked down, clenching his hands into a fist. “Nothing out of the ordinary just yet but I’m warning you, Hyng. He’s not someone we should leave unwatched” Haechan mentioned as he left Mark in the classroom to think about what just happened.

Over the next course of 3 weeks, Mark has been teaching and training the recruits alongside the higher rankings like (y/n). Occasionally, some of the other members would come around and visit Mark’s lessons and even help teach some of the recruits as well.

By the end of the month, Taeyong had assigned fieldwork for each of the members and the class they were teaching. Mark announced to his class that they were assigned to handle some illegal drug-selling group that was in a college.

“Alright class. There’s a yearly sorority party going at a special location. It’s typically different every year, and the tracing class has already traced their location. Your job is to infiltrate the party and find whoever is selling and retrieving those drugs. Don’t get caught, watch each others’ back. We’ll be close by just in case anything goes wrong. You’ll be separated amongst different teams to infiltrate each party since there are several going around in the town they were assigned to.

Mark watched as the recruits were divided and (y/n) was assigned to be the main leader for the group that had Nicholas which even though throughout the past few weeks, Mark didn’t notice anything, he couldn’t help but feel something not sit right with him that he decided to talk with (y/n) right before her team headed out.

“Hey” Mark called out to (y/n) who turned and looked at Mark. “Oh, Mark, hi. What is it? Is there something wrong?” (y/n) asked

“N-no. Well, just wanted to make sure that you’re alright” Mark mentioned, scratching the back of his neck, making (y/n) chuckle. “I’m okay, Mark. Don’t worry about it. It’s not like they’re in kindergarten where they need to be constantly watched” (y/n) mentioned, making Mark laugh as well

“I know, I know. But you know, they’re still kids. They haven’t gone to the field like we have. This is a good opportunity for them to be exposed and for us to see how serious they are. Also to see who is easily manipulated or not” Mark mentioned, making the hair on the back of (y/n)’s neck stand up

“I, I know, Mark. I know what you mean. Since the incident with Eunji against of the entitled group, it has been part of the program where before their supposed ‘graduation’, they would be sent to the field to deal with real-life problems” (y/n) replied and Mark knew the incident she was talking about

“I know that incident too. Just, be careful alright? If anything happens, just call us” Mark mentioned as (y/n) nodded and left along with the rest of the group for the recruits’ annual field mission

Mark’s POV

It was a little past 1 am and almost 6 hours since the group left yet there really hadn’t been any major updates regarding the issue and I’m starting to grow worry. “Yo Hyung, are you working overtime again?” I heard Renjun mention, coming into my office

“Not exactly overtime if I’m waiting until the class has all come back” I mentioned as Renjun shook his head whereas the rest of the dreamies came into my office

“Are you sure you’re just waiting for the class or waiting for (y/n)?” Haechan teased which made me throw the nearest object towards him

“There’s nothing wrong with being worried about a fellow comrade. It’s quite normal. Especially if you have a crush on the person” Jeno followed along with the teasing

The members kept me company for a while until Haechan received a notification from his laptop that the final team, the one (y/n) is supervising was finally done with their task and were heading their way back to the headquarters.

The dreamies and I went towards our HQ’s vehicle building. By the time we arrived, the cars that (y/n) and her team used were already back but instead of hearing some encouraging words or complains about coming back late or something, we heard some arguments between several people.

Your POV

“You seriously going to report us about what we did? I mean we’ve been training at this place for who knows how damn long it has been since we were all brought here. We’re always monitored whenever we leave the base and the one time we get to go out and explore without being monitored, of course, you had to be the responsible one and ruined it” Nicholas complained

Scoffing, I crossed my arms and looked at Nicholas with a sharp gaze, no one else dared to speak up. “Ruined it?! You were the one acting like a brat. It’s as if this place is a prison and you can’t get any social interaction at all. More like, you can’t pull anyone in here so you decided to try and drug that girl at the party”

Nicholas was about to bark back at me but we were all shocked at the next few words that echoed through the place and heavy boots getting closer.

“You tried to do what?!” we heard Mark shout and as I turned around, I saw Mark along with the other Dream members making their way towards us

Instinctively, I lightly bowed at them and explained what happened. “We found who was selling the drugs and traced them back to an old man who was working together with one of the kids. Of course, we’ve handled the situation. We confiscated the drugs and the kids who were selling them then…” before I continued, Mark stopped me and made his way towards Nicholas

“We know what happened (y/n). You gave us constant updates and we already know who was the one actually selling the drugs and all” Haechan explained

“But not about someone, amongst our soon-to-be fresh grads wanting to use those drugs for…” Jeno mentioned but Mark continued. “Personal reasons”

Everyone was silent, I didn’t even dare to say anything. Dream are considered to be the more laid-back group but when it comes to their job, they don’t play around. Especially when it involves illegal things and their reputation being at stake. Yet, this is the first time I’ve seen Mark actually be this intimidating as the leader of NCT Dream.

“Explain yourself” Mark stated, his eyes filled with annoyance was bored into Nicholas’ scared ones. “Or would you like to be intimidated by DoJaeJung?”

Dojaejung, another sub-unit of NCT with Doyoung, Jaehyun, and Jungwoo. Though these 3 older NCT members seemed chill, Jungwoo is able to make you rat yourself, twisting your own words. Doyoung’s judging eyes and sharp words are also able to make you cower in fear. Finally, Jaehyun. He might seem the quietest and the one who could care less about anything. But if it involves his members, something that is against the foundation that he along with NCT built, it’s safe to say that you’re better off digging your own grave before facing him.

“N-no Mark, it was just…” Nicholas stuttered. “That’s sir to you. You don’t get to call me by my first name. Not at this very moment”

“Y-yes sir. I was saying that we never meant to harm anyone. We also didn’t harm anyone. We were curious and well we’ve been here practically for a long time and we just wanted to have fun had she not act like such an entitled person and…”

Without a warning, Mark punched Nicholas to the ground, causing me to gasp and cover my mouth Haechan chuckled then both Jeno and Jaemin each grabbed Nicholas’ arm, forcing him to look up at Mark. “You don’t get to say that about her. She’s doing her job. If she hadn’t been there to stop you. Graduating from here should be the least of your worries at this point. Once the whole of NCT finds out what you and some of you tried to pull out there which let me tell you from experience” Mark chuckled, his gaze was sharp

“Taeyong always knows everything. If you think you can think ahead and try to cover up whatever evidence you have. Taeyong will already have backups on backups. Evidence after evidence. Witnesses ready. If I were you, I’d start practicing begging to be spared. Now go back to your dorms. We’ll talk more about your stunt and give you a proper teaching of respect”

A/N: thank you once again for requesting this fic, anon and I hope you and everyone enjoyed reading this fic! Also if anyone also plays love and deepspace, hit me up :3

[sansaorgana]

Hi! Can you write a Buck Cleven x female reader where they met and fell in love while he's in England and on one of the missions she's told they think his plane went down and she's really upset but it turns out they just got separated from the rest of the group and she just runs to him as soon as he gets out of the plane? Angst and then fluff?

I loved your other Buck fic!

thank you so much, sweetheart 🍭 this time I've read the request like 10 times before starting to write to make sure I haven't misread anything lol 🤣

my inbox is open for blurb/short fic requests for major cleven 🤗

"You're gonna come back to me, baby, am I right?" you pressed your forehead to Buck's and you closed your eyes to inhale his scent and memorize it. Your fingers played with the hem of his jacket as you were pulling him closer and closer.

"Always," he answered in that deep voice of his that usually made you dizzy.

"That's a promise that a gentleman cannot break," you giggled as you opened your eyes but his expression was as serious as ever. He only smiled gently and it made your heart skip a beat. "What's wrong?" you asked.

"You're pretty, you know that?" Buck raised his hand to fix a reckless hairstrand and get it off of your cheek.

"Yes, sir," you nodded. His seriousness was contagious. It was almost as if he had a bad feeling about the upcoming mission but he didn't want to say it out loud. "Go," you leaned in to kiss his cheek and patted his shoulder. "Go, don't be late."

Buck saluted you and went outside as you followed him. You watched him running up to his boys and getting on the plane. You have watched that many times before but this time it really felt different.

"Everything alright, miss?" Colonel Harding furrowed his brow at the sight of your face.

"I'm fine, Colonel," you took a deep breath in to stop your tears from falling.

"Go, busy yourself with something," he nodded.

"Colonel…" you grabbed his sleeve desperately and very unprofessionally. He looked a little surprised but not angry with you at all. "Please, let me know about him… If something happens… I want to know first."

"That would be against the procedures, miss," he explained and you clenched your fingers even harder.

"You see, I'm going crazy here every time he's up there," you tried to explain.

"We're all going crazy, miss," he was a stubborn man. You gave up and saluted before leaving to find yourself something to do.

You were assigned to copy some official papers in Colonel's office but you were more and more frustrated with each given moment. You spent hours by that typewriter and haven't managed to copy one single document. You kept on doing typos and stupid mistakes that forced you to start all over again.

Colonel Harding walked in nervously all of a sudden and you could see that something had been not right but he was excellent at hiding it.

"Colonel," you greeted him.

"What are you still doing here?!" he snapped.

"I'm copying documents."

"Still?"

"I'm stuck on the first one, sir," you confessed as your bottom lip trembled. "I… I'm sorry, I can't focus."

"Get out of here," he ordered and you nodded before getting up as fast as possible and trying to clean up the desk a little. "Go!"

"Yes, sir," you whispered and left in a hurry. Before you closed the door, you could see that he was reaching for a phone. You took a look at your watch and your heart skipped a beat when you realized that Buck had to be above Germany for some time now.

"You're still here?" Colonel's much softer voice made you turn around and face him.

"I'm sorry, sir, I can't seem to focus on anything today…"

"Here, come here," he put his hand on your arm and guided you back inside before gently helping you to sit down. "There's something I must tell you. I shouldn't but…"

"What is it?" your eyes widened and your heart started to pound in your chest as your hands got sweaty.

"Buck's plane went down. There were no parachutes... we're not sure. We lost him."

His voice was firm and loud but to you it sounded like you were sitting behind a glass as the time slowed down.

"N-No…" you shook your head. "No, this can't be, no… Colonel, you see, he's made me a promise. Gentlemen don't break their promises," you kept shaking your head like a maniac.

He didn't say anything and gave you a while to cry and try to catch a breath. You didn't even know what to feel at that moment, what to think. Your body started to tremble and there was a stinging pain inside your chest but your head was empty. You could only remember the taste of his warm lips on yours, the feel of his leather jacket under your fingertips, the way his hair would tickle your forehead when you kissed, the smell of his aftershave and the depth of his voice. And then you realized that you would never ever experience any of that again…

You stood up immediately and ran out of Colonel's office, straight to the bathroom. You needed a splash of cold water and to stand in front of the mirror, staring at your smudged make up as your hands clutched on the sink.

"The boys are back!" you heard someone shouting after a long while but you didn't even flinch. There was no point to go outside. No point of watching every single one of the boys who had survived and not finding your Buck amongst them. No point of seeing with your own eyes that there was a plane missing on that field.

You sobbed and cried as your hand reached underneath your blouse to find a small chain with Buck's ring hanging from it. He gave it to you a few weeks back when you became more serious. You kept it safe for him every day and kept it warm with your body. The ring was warm now, too, as you played with it. And it was a very physical reminder of the man you loved. Of the man who would not come back to you…

It was loud outside for an hour or so; everyone was busy with the boys coming back. They had to rest, get a proper meal, make reports and the planes needed to be fixed. You kept sitting on the cold bathroom floor with your head hid in your hands. You didn't have any tears left for quite a long time now but you still had troubles breathing and standing still without feeling dizzy. Your body kept shaking uncontrollably as well.

"Buck's back!" someone shouted and at first you didn't even react to that. You thought that your brain made that up. But then someone shouted it again and again and you were sure that it had to be some sort of mishearing. You just wanted to hear this, right? Running outside, looking for him, it would make a fool of you... but who cared… You were desperate.

You pushed the bathroom door open as loud as possible and you ran outside. People you passed on the corridor looked at you like you were crazy. Your hair was a mess, your makeup was all over your face and a few buttons of your blouse were undone with a ring on a small chain hanging from your chest.

Cold outside air made you catch your breath finally as you looked up. Indeed, one of the planes was just preparing to land. Its engines were damaged and it looked poorly but it was there.

"Colonel!" you ran up to Colonel Harding who observed the landing. He looked at you with pity in his eyes. "Is that right? Is he…?"

"It's his plane," he answered. "That's all we know. Maybe they got lost somewehere. We still know nothing, we lost connection with Buck some time ago."

"And now? He's not saying anything through the radio?" you kept asking.

"The connection's been lost, miss," Colonel was slowly trying to explain. Your heart skipped a beat as you watched men jumping out of the plane.

And then you spotted him. You'd spot that golden shade of hair everywhere.

"Buck!!!" you screamed and started running towards him. You had quite a big distance to make but you didn't even feel tired. It felt like flying more than running.

He smiled at the sight of you and despite being exhausted, he started running, too.

"Baby!" he greeted you in the middle as he lifted you up and spinned you around.

"Buck!" you laughed and cupped his face. "Oh, Buck!"

"You look like hell, baby," he chuckled.

"Well, you've given me the worst time of my life, you arse!" you pushed his shoulder. "Where have you been? They told me you were dead!"

"I'm sorry," he leaned in to give you a hungry, loving kiss. You heard some men cheering in the distance but you didn't care at all. You were just happy to have Buck back in your arms. You kissed him back, getting lost in the salty taste of sweat and blood. You tangled your hands in his hair and pulled on it gently, like you were checking if he was real.

"How could you do that to me?!" you sniffed the tears back and he pressed his forehead to yours.

"Hey, hey, shh, hey…" he helped you to calm down and catch a breath again as he held your hands to squeeze them reassuringly. "Always, remember? Always."

MASTERLIST || BUCK MASTERLIST

[thoraeth]

Black Hole Hunger [3/3] | All Might x Reader

words: 1500

TW & Tags: gn!reader, no use of y/n, small might, slow burn, fluff, happy ending, implied s3x.

A/N: We survived the great angst of part 2 so it's time for the fluffiest fluff! Also, this story is getting an extra chapter, an Epilogue that will cover the events until the end of the manga. Thank you to anyone who took the time to read my ramblings 🖤

[Part 2] [Epilogue ]

After the gloomy spectacle of the black hole, Toshinori has been restless: he paces back and forth in his bedroom and looks out the window often, ignoring the incoming calls blowing up his phone every morning.

You check on him discreetly, making sure to fully respect his boundaries and alone time. A noble resolution that has nothing to do with the burning shame that's been tormenting you since the day you’ve made a handsy fool of yourself. You’re just sticking to small talk and staying in your lane, as you're supposed to.

Besides that, the hero has been nothing but a gentleman to you. Whenever your flushed face peeps in his room, his eyes widen and he greets you with the kindest words. You wish you had an ounce of that composure but you just can't help it: the memory of his touch still gives you goosebumps every time you think about it. And you’re thinking about it a lot.

“Damn. What am I, fourteen?” You sigh. It's 4 in the morning and you're staring at the ceiling from that uncomfortable futon on the office floor. It doesn't take long before Toshinori’s laments reach your ears, making you kick your blankets away and run to his door.

“You ok in here?” Feeling your way to the light switch, you see the tall man growling at the window.

“Is it ever gonna stop?” He grits his teeth as the wind wails loudly. “It's driving me crazy, make it stop!”

“How?”

“Do a beach, or a sunny sky or whatever.”

“Umh… sure.” You activate your quirk and the room turns into a peaceful seaside with palms all around. The ominous howling, however, is still roaring in the air, killing the summery mood on the spot. “They’re just images, sounds not included.” You shrug.

The warm vision fades away and Toshinori jumps back on his bed, disappointed. “Sorry, that was rude of me. What time is it?” He scratches his forehead with a deep sigh. “I keep waking you up…”

“It’s ok, the wind was bothering me too. How about some music to drown out the noise?”

“Mh... I think the kids got me an app for that. But I have no idea where it is.”

You sit against the headboard and reach out to the hero, his phone dropping on your palm. He sits up too, leaning over your head as he observes your thumb sliding on the chipped screen.

“Is this your class? How lovely.” Behind the million icons, there's a background picture of some young heroes making silly faces, a beaming All Might right in the middle. The man looks so happy with that green haired shortie on his shoulders.

“Yes, at the sports festival! And this one is young Midoriya, the one I told you about.”

Before the music app could come up, Toshinori launches into detailed stories about his 1-A, lighting up with pride as he tells you all about the students’ adventures, praising them for their loving and supportive disposition.

Hunched over the tiny screen, he's reeling off random facts about each of them when the two of you get comfortably closer. Your hair brush against one another, his chest moving against your shoulder with every breath and word.

The hours go by and you both lay back. Resting against his chest, you're chatting softly while his long fingers trace invisible lines along your arm. Looking up at the hero, you marvel at how easy and good it feels to be with him. You're struggling to stay awake, to make it last just a little more, but his light touch helps sleep get the better of you.

When your eyes flutter open, a timid light comes from the window.

“Good morning…” you yawn. “Did we doze off?”

“I did not, but you crashed.” Toshinori is lying on his side, studying your face with an unusual happy expression. He stares at you intensely as you get up and stretch, almost drowning in that humongous sweatshirt.

You shuffle to the kitchen but the sound of other steps in the corridor makes you stop and turn at the blonde beanpole behind you. “You haven't set foot outside your bedroom in weeks. Congrats!” You smirk, heading towards the main room.

As you mess with yesterday's takeaway boxes, the hero slides on the sofa. He observes the light on the floor with a loud yawn.

“Last night I thought of something.” He says, out of the blue. “I’ll take care of my unfinished business, for the kid and everyone else. And if it means dying on the battlefield, so be it: I came to terms with that long ago.”

Mouth agape, you stare at Toshinori's nape, spilling coffee outside your mug. His words hit you like a punch in the stomach.

“And yet, I think I’ve never really taken into consideration the idea that I could…outlive it all. Enjoy it, even.”

You walk up behind him, watching him stretch his long arms, then scratch his chest. “Is that so?” you say softly.

“If by any twist of fate I’ll make it alive…I could hang out with friends whenever I want, bedrot on weekends and sleep alone no longer. Gosh, after fifty years.” He grows more excited with every thought. “I could even buy a small house by the sea! I’d watch the sunrise every morning and the kids from 1-A would come over in the summer.”

“That sounds lovely. Can I come over too?”

“Oh, you’ll have your keys.” he chuckles, throwing his head back to meet your gaze. “To every house I'll ever own. I'd be nothing but blessed to get home and have you there.”

At that point, you're far too gone; the feelings in your chest too big, too inflated to take any spoken form. You bury your face in Toshinori's neck, hugging him as tight as your arms let you. He slowly rests his head against you and lets out a content hum.

Things in the house are quiet again but, unlike before, the atmosphere is peaceful. Each day brings endless conversations about your lives, with tons of excuses to stay glued to one another. In fact, you’re constantly dancing around it: lingering touches, light pecks on the cheeks, your names whispered in the night to check if you're both awake.

As much as you enjoy taking it slow, something is secretly gnawing at you. Very soon, you'll be in the UA auditorium in front of the most powerful heroes of the nation with their protegees, and your speech is nothing like the draft you and Mr. Principal have agreed upon.

After all you've witnessed in that house, a simple talk about quirks just won't do: the hideous hunger must be brought to the light, pinned against the UA walls. What happened to Toshinori and the others must not continue undisturbed.

You couldn't care less if the rat will hate your lecture, if he doesn't pay you eventually. But what if he doesn't like it? Are you about to ruin it all? This thought makes you restless at night, so you end up at his door, seeking his arms to calm you down.

A couple of days before your lecture is due, the anxiety is so overwhelming that you can't bring yourself to get up: Toshinori has been calling you softly from the bedroom but your limbs just won't move. As you're about to drift back into sleep, though, you feel two long hands sliding under you, lifting you from the floor.

Burying your face in the hero's neck, you enjoy the swinging motion that brings you to the other room, feeling the soft mattress and the warmth of Toshinori on your back as he spoons you for the rest of the night.

When morning comes, you can't believe your eyes: glorious sun rays invade the room, warm on your face as if it's spring already. The neverending storm has finally left. You sit up in the middle of the bed and bask in that long desired light.

“I'm feeling much better thank you. I’ll be back on Monday.” Toshinori’s voice echoes in the corridor. “Is the meeting after the lecture or..”

Your charming hero appears in the door frame: he's talking on the phone but, as soon as he sees you, his face lights up.

He reaches you, getting so close you can hear Mr. Principal’s voice coming from the device in his hand. The blonde head plants a peck on your cheek, then whispers: “The weather is lovely. I went to buy us breakfast, it's in the kitchen.”

While he reassures the mouse he's still there, you observe him mesmerized, remarking how mundanity could make that man shine just as much as heroism. Suddenly, you cup his face with your hands and kiss him. A long, slow kiss in which he leans without hesitation.

Toshinori pulls back for a second, hanging up on the babbling principal. He throws the phone away, then tilts your head back to kiss you fiercely once again.

The hero has moved on top of you, whispering sweet words in your ear as your fingers dig in his golden hair. His big hands lifts his old sweatshirt up to your neck, and you surrender eagerly to him, craving every inch of his warm skin against yours.

It’s not even love you're feeling at this point, it is pure devotion. You want Toshinori to thrive and you’ll do anything so that he ends up safe, loved and taken good care of.

You think about your wrecked notes for a second and you've never felt more ready in your life.

[retiredteabag]

sorry for informality but i was stalking reading your pinned post and you’re in grad school at twenty!??!!!

unless i’m tripping or misunderstanding something, academic weapon tips please because holy shit that’s insane! what’s ur field of study if you want to talk about it/don’t mind me asking? any application tips/things you wished you knew before getting there/habits you wished you’d formed sooner? independent research has always been difficult for me because of how much i depend on structure (adhd imposter syndrome anxiety lets go) so if you’re working on a thesis/something similar, how has the process been in your experience?

i’m in undergrad atm and heavily debating going further, so i’d love to hear from someone my age who’s actually doing it! also unrelated, but i’m a certified notion/goodnotes girlie if you vibe with those as study resources!

🎸 tagging with an emoji in case i pop back around, yk?

I'm sorry to say, but my tips might come off as sort of typical... but I hope they're at least a little helpful!

I am currently in a masters program within the analytics field. Research/independent studies vary widely depending on the area of specialization, however, my program has an intensive practicum that is similar in nature. I have not started it yet, but what I can say for sure when it comes to research: make sure you are picking a topic that you could speak about for hours/answer argumentative questions about.

For applications, I would say to narrow your options down as much as possible and look into each program before applying. Know the curriculum and standard outline and what stands out to you as you decide.

^ on this same note, you will likely need at least one interview in the application process. Speak slowly and enunciate. Taking a moment to think of the proper words will always be better than speaking quickly without much thought. Most people say to use "down-speak" in these interviews, but in my experience, matching the examiners tone and energy makes the whole thing much more comfortable.

For study tips, I have a large notebook that I keep on my desk where I write down every assignment and the date that it is due. This is just for organization purposes, I find a physical copy helpful for a few reasons but also because crossing them off feels rewarding :]

Time managment is incredibly important. Everyone says this because it is true. Prep everything, organizing your day into chunks. Since you also like structure, this probably wont be an issue. I would also get comfortable with being self-aware of your priorities. There will come a time when you will need to choose between academics/work and other areas of your life.

Keep your spaces clean. Dedicate a day or so to just organizing/doing a deep clean. It will help you stay focused and minimize external anxiety. It’s also much easier to keep a place clean if you have put in such an effort.

Participate in class. I cannot make this clear enough. I promise it is not embarrassing to ask questions or "try". You will learn far easier if you put effort into the classroom/lecture setting.

It is a pretty typical "tip" is to just ask questions. Even if you feel like you might understand, just ask to make sure. And in this same vein, go to office hours if you need to.

Prioritize sleep lol, that and mental rest. You can't always be studying. For me, it is a real challenge to work and be full time in school so it's important to carve out those sections of "you time".

Try not to be on your phone tooooooooo much, I know it’s hard but I make an effort to not be on my phone while eating. Don’t use entertainment as a distraction, I find that it just delays anxiety :(

Lastly, apply for scholarships and know that you absolutely can appeal for more money.

I hope this was useful. Do know that it REALLY depends on your area of study and 5-year-plan. I would recommend not going to grad school unless you're absolutely sure it is worth it.

Good luck!

[anothersugarbabb]

Alpha! Izuku x Omega! Male reader

°•______________________________________________•°

Part one

⚠️ this is contains violence but not a clear description of it. And descriptions of sex, but it's pretty brief

I don't really care if you're fem aligned and you choose to read this, just don't interact pls

A/n: I literally deleted the entirety of the last one and that might be my 13th reason. Also, this isn't proofread, do don't @ me for any mistakes, I apologize 😔

°•______________________________________________•°

Izuku was pushed up against the wall by someone he considered to be a "friend".

Katsuki was seething with anger, his face red and his jaw clenched.

"What's wrong? Are you mad?" Izuku said in an almost mocking tone.

"Am I mad?! DID YOU REALLY THINK I WOULDN'T FIND OUT??!!"

Izuku closed his eyes and smiled, "No, no, no. I knew you would eventually. But I wanted to speed up the process."

Almost on cue, everyone in the class got a notification on their phones. And not even three seconds later, there was a wave of shocked gasps and loud moans coming from someone's phone.

Katsuki whipped his head around, "TURN THAT SHIT OFF-"

"Why don't you see it, hm?" Izuku asked from below him.

Katsuki turned to him and saw his brother, on his screen, naked, bruised, and bent over what he assumed to be his desk, moaning. A single glance and everything was red. He started punching and punching and punching. At some point he didn't even know what it was.

Soon he was lifted and as he thrashed around, Izuku laughed and laughed. He laughed at his fury, he laughed at his brother and the embarrassment he brought upon him.

••••

After, they were both removed from the classroom, Izuku going to the nurse and Katsuki going to the principal's office.

Katsuki felt numb, so numb that he didn't even notice his now frail little brother wrapping his arms around him and rocked the two of them back and forth.

Soon enough though he came back to his senses and looked at (m/n) sorrowfully. He looked at his stomach and thought about how his future of being a hero alongside his big brother was over.

All because of that damn Deku.

"I heard about what happened.." (m/n) finally spoke up.

"Yeah... I'm sorry"

They stayed in silence for a few more minutes.

"I didn't know that's what he was doing behind me, I'm so sorry.."

Katsuki heard his brother's voice and crack and it nearly broke his heart. He held (m/n) close as he cried into his chest for what felt like hours but was in reality, about five minutes.

Their moment was interrupted when they heard a knock on the door.

And who stood in the doorway?

None other than, Izuku.

(m/n) turned his head away from him and didn't even try to look up, his breathing quickened, but he was soothed when his older brother rubbed small heated circles onto his back.

"Are you proud of what you've done to my brother?" Katsuki questioned. He didn't know what kind of an answer to expect, a snarky one? A nonchalant one?

Not this one though.

"No I don't know, but I wanted to apologize to (m/n). I-"

"I refuse to leave you in the same room as my little brother. Not after what you've done to him."

Izuku pinched the bridge of his nose in irritation. "How am I supposed to know what I did if you won't even let me talk to him? I can't read minds you know. So, please, let me talk to him."

Just as Katsuki was about to say something, he felt (m/n) push off of him and sit himself upright in his chair.

"If y-you want to t-talk, then l-let's talk."

°•______________________________________________•°

A/n: Another cliff hangerrrrrr sorry. I deadass almost didn't make this, literally because I lost the entirety of the first one and that dove deeper into what happened in the classroom before Katsuki threw hands. And I'm sorry this was short

Anyways, yuh, I hope you enjoyed! I am taking requests so you can send some in, I don't have a rules page up, but for rn, anything goes and anyone (from mha, jjk, csm, and genshin) goes. I don't feel like making a rules page rn, sorry

[fangirlstorycreator]

pretty pretty pretty please can you do a story about blitzo??!! I've just seen that you wrote for hazbin hotel and helluva boss and I love those shows! blitz is my favourite character! Let's imagine you work with him moxie and millie, but there is a spark between you both! And maybe he saves you from striker? I'm buzzing to see what you write!!! xxxxx

Blitzo! Absolutely anon! I'm so excited to write my first Helluva Boss story, I hope you enjoy 🤗💚

Contains: Swearing/Sexual content/dirty talk/sexual intercourse/kidnap/threatening language (NOT FOR MINORS!)

You had just taken another call for a job, this business was really blowing up recently, who would have thought k#lling humans in the living world was such a good career? You were the only one in the office at that moment, as Blitz, Millie, Moxie and Luna had been invited to an event in the Wrath ring, that wasn't really your kind of thing to do. You had just finished writing down the last few details of this new job, when the door bursts open and hits the wall with a loud bang.

"Satan's d#ck hole! Damn it! Why is it that every time we go anywhere with that feathery f#ck, someone wants to k#ll him!" "Well, he is royalty sir" "So what Moxie? He ain't so royal when I'm d#ckin his-" "Ugghh! Blitz!" "Ooh! Sorry Loony" Luna was always wound up by something Blitz would say, I think it was just part of their father and daughter relationship, even though Luna would never admit that. "Hey sh#t tits! Anyone call in for more work while we were gone?" "Just one, someone who had a an abusive ex boyfriend, she's down in hell because she tried to kill him apparently. But, because he's still alive up there..." "She needs us! F#ck yeh! Let me read the details about this one. Moxie! When your done humping your wife's leg, go and refill the guns. We're gunna need them for this next c#ck sucker" Moxie just huffed as he and Millie went to sort out the guns, Luna was sat by the meeting table, flicking through her phone with her earphones in, and Blitz was still reading the info you wrote.

"So Blitz, you were talking about Stolas when you came back, what happened?" "Oh, that god damn royal #sshole invited us to the Wrath ring for some kind of festival. It actually wasn't that bad, I even joined in with some of the games they had, they were f#cking awesome!" "So what went wrong?" "Oh, well it turns out there was this guy down there, who I was competing against, who was trying to k#ll Stolas" "But he's royalty right? You can't k#ll royalty without-" "An angelic weapon? Yeh, turns out the f#cker has one" "Sh#t! Well, what happened then?" "He hid it from us, until Moxie found the gun. He attacked Moxie and Millie, then I came and pretty much saved the day!" "Saved the day?" "Well....yeh he got away, but! I was the one that distracted him so Moxie could get a clear shot" "Oh really? And how exactly did you do that?" "He was totally flirting with me, trying to make me join him. I just played along" "Hmmm..." "What?" "Oh come on Blitz, your telling me you didn't like it? Not even a little? Your always the dominant one when it comes to Stolas, you secretly liked him being the one in charge for a moment didn't you?" "Hey! I played along with him so Moxie could get the gun!" "Didn't answer my question though...." "Ok...fine, just for a minute. But that's all! I'm always the one who f#cks other people, not the other way around!" "Sounds like a part of you was willing to give it a try"

Blitz raises an eyebrow to you, quickly looks around to make sure Luna isn't paying attention and that Moxie and Millie aren't there. Leaning slightly on the desk, he whispers to you. "You think so huh? Well maybe I'd like to give it a try sometime...." "Blitz....are you trying to flirt with me?" "What if I am, gorgeous? You never know, it could be fun....you wanna ride on this d#ck?" Pretenting to play along with him, you reach up and gently pull him in a little closer by his collar, and lean in to whisper into his ear. His neck slightly shivers as he can feel your breath, he's loving it. "Maybe I would, Blitz........if you actualy had something decent to ride on" "What?!" He shouts as he backs away, leaving you giggling. "What the f#ck are you trying to say? I haven't got a big d#ck?! I could rock you world!" "I doubt it, I think your all talk Blitz" "Oh yeh! If Luna wasn't hear I'd bend you over this desk and f#ck you till your screams filled the god damn office" "Yeh....or my moans of boredom" "Oooh you cheeky minx-" "Hey sir! We've refilled the guns" "Huh? Oh! Right, thanks Moxie, just put them in the van would yeh?" Moxie and Millie head out to the van with Luna, and Blitz just smirks. "I know we play this flirty game a lot Y/N, but has it ever occurred to you that I might actually wanna f#ck you?" "It has, however, you know me Blitz. If you want this...you have to earn it" "Well...challenge excepted! Alright, I've gotta go, we'll go and k#ll this abusive c#ck sucker and be right back"

"No problem. Hey Blitz?" "What?" "You didn't really finish your story about the attempted assassination on Stolas" "Oh yeh! Stolas is fine, we still use the book and we assumed that guy just ran away because of how much we tried to f#ck him up" "He may still be out there, you never know. Does he live in the Wrath ring?" "I don't know, he just disappeared" "Sounds like an #sshole, what was his name anyway?" "Striker" "Striker? What was he? A cowboy?" "How the f#ck did you guess that?" "It sounds like a stupid name to give yourself if your a cowboy" "I can't say I disagree. Anyway! See you later sh#t tits!" You knew he never meant it, but that was just a stupid nickname that had stuck for you now. You just found it funny, just like him. Yes you guys did playfully flirt a lot of the time, but there were times, you could see in his eyes, he was actually turned on. Who knows what could happen between you? But that wasn't on your mind right now, because yet another call has come in. That night when they came back and finished that job, Moxie and Millie had packed their things and headed home, and you were just getting your stuff in your moterbike as Blitz pulled up beside you with Luna in the van too. "Hey sh#t tits! Good job today. Are you hungry? Me and Loony are gunna go get some burgers, wanna come?" "I'm fine thanks Blitz, I'm quite tired so I'll just have something when I get home"

"Alright, we'll see you tomorow then. You ready for some burgers Loony?!" "Uugghh, they're just burgers, no need to get so excited about it" "But there MEGA burgers! There f#cking awesome!" "Whatever" "See you Y/N!" And just like that, he sped off down the road to the burger joint in town. You could see that Blitz always tried his best with Luna, he really does care about her. Once you were ready, you got on your bike and drove towards home, but you did stop at a local bar first. You placed an order for their club sandwich and fries to go, you loved that meal, it was the best thing they did. As you were waiting by the bar, you hear the sound of jingling with footsteps coming towards you, that was strange. When you turned to look behind you, a strange guy had walked up to you and stood beside you by the bar. He had a large brown hat, yellow eyes, a white jacket with little tassels, knee high boots and a red handkerchief wrapped around his neck. Not to mention the creepy smile and the pencil thin moustache, just one look and it made you feel uneasy, whoever this was, you didn't like him straight away.

"Hey there little darlin.....what's your name?" "Not interested" He had a thick accent, like a cowboys western voice. "Hey now, there's no need to get like that. How about I buy you a drink?" "No" "Are you sure?" "No is a full sentence #sshole!" "Woh woh there, I was only tryin to be polite. Why are you gettin all defensive" "Because when a woman says no, that's all she has to say. Now get away from me you creep" He just huffs, running his thumb over his bottom lips as he watches you. "I like a woman with a little bite"

"This is your final warning d#ck head, f#ck off!" "Fine....but let me leave you with this" He slides a card to your fingers, with his number on it. "Call me if you change your mind....and by the way, what name was given to a beauty such as yourself?" "F#ck off" "Well....the names Striker....see you later little darlin..." Striker? Oh sh#t! THE striker? He walks away as you just figure that out, you now know who he was, what he looks like, and that he didn't just disappear like Blitz had said! You needed to tell Blitz! The next morning, you made your way to work and see Moxie, Millie and Luna all doing their own thing. "Millie?" "Yeh?" "Have you seen Blitz?" "Yeh, he's in his office" "Thanks" You walk to the far end of the hall and knock on the door "Blitz?" "Y/N! Is it just you?" "Uh yeh, why?" "Just wondering! Come in!" As you open the door, you see Blitz's desk infront of you, but he wasn't sat behind it. "Blitz? Where-" All of a sudden, you feel hands grip your waistline, spin you around and pin you against the wall. It's Blitz! And he has a deep s#xual hunger in his eyes. "Hey there..." "Blitz, this really isn't the time, I need to-" Placing his finger to your lips, he shooshs you and whispers. "Oh yeh? Well I think it's the perfect time for me to show you exactly what I'd like to do to you..." He says in his most seductive tone. "I've imagined pinning you up against this office wall, pounding your brains out as I-" "Blitz! While this is a lovely suprise, I really need to talk to you!" "Huh? About what?" "Striker!" "Striker? What about him?" "I've seen him! Last night!" "What?! Well why the f#ck didn't you lead with that?"

"Well maybe if I was allowed to actualy say anything as you were trying to f#ck me up against a wall!" "I thought you wanted this?!" "Not right now! I need to talk to you about Striker!" "Shit, Striker. Ok, what happened?" You sit him down and explain what happened last night, and the card with his number on it. "That mother f#cker! He hit on you!" "Your honestly focused on that part Blitz?!" "Well duh! What else should I be focused on?" "Oooh I don't know? Maybe the fact that Striker is still out there, and he could try and hunt down Stolas again!" "Oh sh#t! I didn't think of that. Alright, let's go and tell everyone else" You and him called everyone into the office where you explained what happened last night, and it looked like Moxie had seen a ghost. "Mox? Are you ok?" "That bastard tried to k#ll me and Millie! The thought of him being around again, I hate it. I know you saw him briefly last night Y/N, but you haven't seen him when he's fighting. He's tough" Blitz says "Well yeh he was Mox, but most people are when they're fighting YOU" "What?! Sir I can handle myself!" "When Millie's holding your hand...or your d#ck!" "Sir! I'm-" "Anyway, anyway Moxie. Your right, he is tough. But I know someone in this room who would beat the sh#t out of that #sshole" "Sir, if your going to say Luna, she barely helped us that day when we ALL fought him!" "Not quite Luna, but I know my sweet baby could tear out anyones throat out! Can't you Loony?!" Just shrugging at him, you see a small smile at the corner of Luna's mouth.

"Anyway Moxie, if you hadn't have interrupted me you f#cking bipsh#t! I was actually gunna say Y/N" You were instantly confused. "Huh? Why me?" "Oh come on! I once saw you take out an entire street of humans in the most brutal and violent ways! There was a good 45-50 of them! And they were better fighters than Striker!" "Blitz, first off, I disposed of them because they were all convicted pedofiles. And they were meeting up there to find away to lock down a local human school" "Yeh! And you f#cking k#lled every one of them!" "Yes...and second of all, I know there was a lot, but this Striker you've told me about has an angelic weapon and was able to take on all 4 of you, and get away. What makes you think that in a scenario where me and him are fighting, that I would be the one who comes out on top?" "Because you have fought each one of us, and all at the same time when we did our training before we started going to the human world. And each time, you beat the sh#t out of us! You even beat Luna!" "Yeh....you kinda did beat me Y/N....but I also kinda respect you because of that" "Oh, thanks Luna. Look, discussing this is all well and good. But what if Striker decided he's going to try and finish the job with Stolas?" Everyone looks at eachother for a moment, trying to think of what to do. "I've already told Stolas we're not bodyguards, you remember the sh#t show at Loo Loo Land?" "Yes Blitz, but let's not forget. No Stolas, means no access to the human world" "Oh f#ck sticks! Alright, fine! We'll keep an eye out for Striker. If any of you guys see him, kill him! Or else were out of a job"

The next few days went by as normal, you went and did a few jobs with Blitz, Millie and Moxie, informed Stolas about Striker and told him to call any of us if he saw him again, and generally just tried to get on with things. You and Blitz hadn't discussed the moment in his office, but you knew it had to be brought up, but how? Now that you knew that he really did wanna sleep with you...were you going to?...... One morning, Blitz gave Millie and Moxie a little job on earth to do, he apparently couldn't be bothered to do it. So Millie and Moxie left with the book, Blitz was in his office talking a call from Stolas and Luna was sat behind the front desk, checking her sistagram. You saw this as an opportunity, and seized your moment. "Hey Luna?" "What?" "You bored?" "Yeh" "I need to do some important paperwork at this desk, how about you go and see if there's anything nice you can treat yourself with down the mall in town?" You say sweetly offering her $60. "Wow! Really?" "Yeh, go treat yourself for a few hours" "Cool, thanks. I'll see you later" As soon as she grabbed her coat, she was out of there, and you and Blitz were the only ones in work. Walking towards his office, you can faintly hear the ending of the phone call with Stolas, which Blitz seemed to want to finish. You knocking on his door gave him the perfect excuse. "Huh? Stolas I gotta go, someone's hear to talk to me. Buy. Is that you my little Loony?"

Blitz was pleasantly suprised to see you walking into his office instead. "Y/N! What brings you buy? Oh, and by the way, whatever it is, I'm glad. Because Stolas was talking my f#cking ear off on the phone" "Stolas does love to chat to you Blitz" "Yeh, he likes a lot of sh#t about me. Maybe it's because I diddle his holes every month? Eh it must be, anyway! What do you need?" Raising an eyebrow to him and slowly closing the door, you lean against his door, trying to look seductive. "Maybe I need you to finish what you started.....that is....if you remember?" He stands straight up, eyes wide at first, then turn hungry and devilish. "Ooooohh...your damn right I remember...." He takes his time to walk over to you, taking in the sight of you, looking so damn sexy infront of him. He pins his hands against the wall, with you and him now very close. "So....you do wanna ride on this d#ck huh?....." "If...you can deliver the goods...." "Oooh baby....promise me when I say, I can deliver the f#cking goods....tell me....how do you like it?..." "I like a guy that can take charge..." You say seductively, running your hand down his chest and slowly massaging his now growing bulge. "I like someone who tells me what to do....tells me what a good girl I can be" You lean into his ear, bite at his earlobe and run your tounge down his neck making him shiver. It was like a fire was lit in him, he exhaled deeply, sounding so sexy, right before his hand came and wrapped around your throat.

"Let's just see about that....(grawl)" That noise he made was enough to make you wet already, let alone the look in his eye and the way he spoke to you. His hand on your throat ever so slightly squeezed as his other unbuckled his trousers. "I've wanted to f#ck you like this for so god damn-oh sh#t! Won't Luna hear us?" "Nope! I gave her some money to spend in town...I wanted you all to myself..." "Oh your full of suprises....but now I want you full of me!" His hands grab your hips and pin you against the wall, leaning in and pressing his eager lips to your neck and kissing the soft and delicate skin, making you practically melt against him. Your breath catches as he nibbles at your neck and ear, and he starts to grind against you as his hips slide a little inbetween your legs. You can feel his hard bulge as he rubs it in just the right space, f#ck me you were so turned on from this, and he hadn't even taken his clothes off yet. Pulling away from your neck, he kisses you so hard that you feel dizzy and breathless, your fingers dig into his shoulders just so you can have something to hold onto. Ripping his shirt open, you stroke down his chest, feeling his tough body and his racing heartbeat, holy sh#t. Without warning, he picks you up and slams you on top of his desk, still holding your legs around his hips as he looks deep into your eyes.

"Your so f#cking hot....I've imagined plowing you against this desk for so long..." "What's stopping you then?.....or are you being a little pussy?..." Again, his dominant side is back out, and his hand is around your throat again. "Call me a pussy again baby....I dare you....see what happens...." His devilish look and his tone of voice makes you want him to take you now! Hard and fast! ".....Pussy...." "You asked for it..." His lips are on you again, sliding his tounge inside he's trying to f#ck your mouth with it. He pushes you down onto the desk, still holding you by the neck as he whips out his cock, slamming it inside you with no hesitation. "Huh! Oh f#ck!" "Yeh that's it baby...f#cking take all of me....oooh you feel so good..." Just like you wanted him, he holds you in place as he f#cks you mercilessly against the desk. Over, and over, f#cking you like a little rag doll. Your orgasm was already seconds away, you couldn't hold on! Your scream filled the office as your body shook, your legs felt like jelly and he didn't stop once. "That's it, c#m all over my c#ck! Awww, look at that little face...your all worn out....you all finished there? Hit your high....well I think you can handle another one....or a few" He really wasn't finished with you, you did feel a little worn out, but hungry for more, and he could sence that. Flipping you over, your now facing a way from him while still leaning over the desk, where he starts f#cking you again, making tears fall from your eyes as he brings you to climax again and again, and again! Even his tale played a part in the action! When it wasn't flicking and rubbing at your most sensitive area, it was tying your hands together and letting him be completely in control, and you loved every single f#cking second of it! No previous boyfriend or one night stand had made you feel like that before, it was f#cking insane!

You felt as if you were going to pass out soon, this whole experience had tired you out, not to mention this is the most orgasms you had ever had in a row! Your legs were like jelly! If Blitz wasn't holding you around him, you'd have collapsed a long time ago, he was a lot stronger that you had imagined. Just as you feel like another orgasm could put you to sleep, Blitz came with a loud grunt and shout! "(Grunt) Ah ah! Oh f#ck yeh! (Out of breath) oh sh#t! That was....damn! You ok?" "Oh Blitz....I haven't.....just...woh..." "You got some stamina in you girl! Hear let me help you get a little more comfortable" He gently slides himself out and helps you sit in the chair, your poor legs are shaking and you can't control them at the moment. "Was that too much for you? I'm sorry if I was too-" "Oh no Blitz, that was f#cking awesome!" "Yeh?" "Yes! I finaly know what if feels like to get my brains f#cked out" "Ah ha ha! I know right! You were great, way better than I imagined you were" "So, are my legs supposed to be doing this?" "What the shaking? Oh don't worry, I know how to fix that" Taking you carefully in his arms, he walks down the hall with you to the far end, where there is a bathroom with a separate shower area, just incase. It tended to be used if you needed to wash off any blood whilst inbetween jobs, but for now, it was to help you get cleaned up. He was being so sweet, helping you get cleaned and get your legs back to normal in the shower, you wouldn't have imagined he had pretty much rearranged your guts mere moments before. 20 minutes later, you could walk and were no longer as sensitive, and you both went back to Blitz's office to get dressed back into your clothes. He insisted you sit and take a breather as he put his office back together, you both did kind of destroy it in the heat of the moment.

"That was incredible Blitz, I can't believe we haven't done that before" "I know right! I'll tell you what though, you were sooo worth the wait" "Aww thank you. You definitely were too" A few minutes passed and you hear the sound of the portal in the main room, Moxie and Millie had come back. They came and knocked on the door, Millie looked happy, but Moxie not so much. "So M&M, how did it go? Holy sh#t Mox! You look like sh#t!" "Oh he's alright Blitz, he's just a little shaken up by that job we just did" Millie had explained to you and Blitz that they had to deal with a human who wanted to keep Moxie as a pet, and made him wear a dog collar and tried to make him eat dog food. "Can you blame him Mox? You do act like a little b#tch sometimes" "Sir! I am not a dog!" "Calm down Mox, I said bitch! Which is technical a female dog" "Does taking the p#ss out of me make you feel just slightly important for a mere second? Considering how sad your own life is sir?" "Yeh, it does actually. Anyway! Mills, tell me about this little sh#t you and Mox had to deal with. It sounds like fun!" As Millie and Moxie discuss the contract with you both, Blitz couldn't help but sneak glances at you, and you him. He did just f#ck you so damn good! And everyone was oblivious, it was kind of exciting. Later that afternoon, everyone was getting ready to go home, and Luna had come back with a bag of new clothes. She showed you when you asked to see them, however, as soon as Blitz wanted to see like an over excited parent, Luna just hit him with her bag, slightly smirking, it was kind of funny. When Millie and Moxie left, you, Blitz and Luna were walking out to the car park together.

"Are you gunna show me your new clothes at home Loony? I think you'd look so cute in some new outfits!" "Ugghh shut up da-Blitz!" "Aww your too precious" Luna huffed and sat in the van, where Blitz offered to walk you to your moterbike. "Thanks again for giving Luna some money to go shopping, she does love it in the mall. It's just a shame she doesn't like me there with her...I thought it could be a nice daddy/daughter experience" "I know Blitz, and you can have that some day, but it's when you both have to be ready for that. Don't get your hopes up ok? She does love you" "Yeh, I love her too.....So uhh....about today?" "I'm...gunna guess it's something your not going to want to do again?" "Huh? No! Why would you think that?" "Isn't this supposed to happen? Whenever I've been with a guy, they tend to either ignore me from then on, or just never see me again" "What a bunch of fat f#ckin d#ck wads! Hell no! Y/N, I'd still like to keep this going" "You do?" "Yeh! I know when we first met, we discussed not wanting a relationship, so why not friends with benefits? I still care about you, but if you like, we can be friends who screw eachothers brains out too! What do you say?" "You know what? I actually like the idea of friends with benefits. We always banter and flirt with eachother anyway. The only difference now is that we both get to do something about it" "Yeh! I agree! Great! Friends with benefits!" He gives you a quick hug. "I've got to go now, but maybe we could (hang out) again tomorrow?" "Are you sure? Are you not tired from today? Or worried someone could hear us in the office tomorrow?" "Oh I got a f#ck load of stamina baby! And there can't be much noise if your mouth is full....See you tomorow!"

He smiles happily as he hops into his van, and drives down the street to take himself and Luna home, he was such a manic ball of energy, but you loved that about him. Once you got your moterbike ready, you started driving in the direction of home, just enjoying the quiet trip on the bike, like nothing more than an easy night. That was....until the accident....You had taken a turn down a street you usually drive, it was a short cut. But what you didn't see was that mere seconds before you drove over them, someone had thrown road spikes down, and it popped both your bike tyres! You panic! Swerving, scared you were going to crash and get seriously hurt! The bike was about to fall, taking you with it, when you made a quick thinking decision. You, or the bike, you chose you. Jumping away from the seat, you land hard on the pavement right before your bike hit a large tree, crushing it and nearly killing you in the process. Pain floods throughout your body, blood trickled down your arms and face when you touch it, you had hit your head and hurt your arms and legs when you impacted the pavement, it hurt so damn much. All you could make at first was groans, but as you tried to steady your breathing, you started shouting for help. It was dark, and you couldn't see anyone, but you kept shouting, hoping that someone could help you. Reaching into your pocket, your phone had been all smashed up, so you couldn't even call the police or Blitz, and the pain was getting worse. You wipe away the blood on your forhead and try to stand up, but unbeknown to you, you were being hunted...and you were right where he wanted you....Getting to your knees, you try to take a hold of a near by rock, but are suddenly grabbed from behind by an unknown attacker! He pins your badly hurt arms around your back with one of his hands, and the other reaches around and holds a damp cloth over your nose and mouth. Struggling and writhing in his grip, you try your best to get away, but this rag has something in it thats making you drowsy, and moving in his vice like grip is getting too much for you. "Your all mine now little darlin.....and there ain't noone gunna stop me taking you..."

That voice? You recognise this mans voice. STRIKER! But it was too late, your eyes start to close, and everything goes black as you flop in his arms, being completely knocked out. The next morning, Blitz walks into work with Luna, seeing only Moxie and Millie. "Hey butt f#cks, what's new today?" "Nothing yet sir" Moxie says in a grumpy tone. "Y/N wasn't hear to tell us if any new clients had called" "Hmm? That's strange. Have you guys seen her at all?" "Nope, me and Moxie left last night, and the only time we saw her was when she was walking out with you and Luna" "Has she called in sick?" Moxie checks the answering machine, but there's nothing there. "Nope, nothing sir" "That's so weird, let me give her a call" Blitz was starting to worry now, you were always great with your time management, getting there the earliest, good at avoiding traffic, and would always get in touch if any issue came up. "Hmmm, straight to answer machine. Something doesn't feel right" "Did she say anything last night that might make you remember a reason why she couldn't be in sir?" "No, nothing. We were both just talking about what to do today, nothing out of the ordinary" Luna sits behind the desk as Blitz, Millie and Moxie all talk about where you could be, when the phone rings, but Luna just ignored it as she checked her sistagram. "Loony, please answer the phone next time" "Why? That's Y/N's job" "But she's not hear right now Loony" "Uugghh! Fine. Well, looks like it doesn't matter, they left a message on the answering machine" "Oh! Alright, press play then please Loony"

She presses the button, the voice doesn't come through for a few seconds...but when it does...it makes everyone stand on edge. "Hey there little imps..." "That...that's Strikers voice! What the f#ck is he calling us for?!" The message carried on as they all listened. "I'm guessing your wondering what happened to your little lady today huh? Well, let me put ya'll's mind at rest...I've got her with me right now..." "WHAT?!" Blitz shouts. "How is Y/N with Striker sir?" "I don't f#cking know Mox!" "I guess ya'll are wondering why this has happened...well I simply couldn't keep away from such a pretty little thing...well, I say that....she doesn't look too good now. And who can blame her? She did get into a pretty rough moterbike accident last night...and she's passed out right now, bound and gagged in this chair...poor little thing" Hearing what's happened to you makes Blitz's blood boil, and rage is bursting to get out. "I think I could have a lot of fun with this little darlin....however....I am willing to give a trade for her....bring me Stolas....and I'll let her go. But I have to warn you....if you don't do as I say, and bring me that royal #sshole by tomorow night....she may not make it in time....tomorrow night! By the abandoned industrial site! Be there....or be ready to say goodbye to your pretty little lady friend" As soon as he said that, the message ended, and Blitz, in a rage, threw a chair across the room and it smashed into the window. "THAT MOTHER F#CKER!"

"Sir, let's calm down for a moment and think about what to do-" "Calm down? CALM DOWN?! That horse f#cking d#ck wad caused Y/N to get into a crash, kidnapped her and is holding her hostage! And f#ck knows what he's going to do to her before we find her! And you want me to CALM THE F#CK DOWN?!" Millie holds Blitz steady, trying to ground him. "Blitz! Listen to me! We need to think of a plan to get her back! And we can't do that until you calm down, and think about Y/Ns safety!" That seemed to have shaken him out of his rage a little, but just a little. "Oh satan's damn it! I'm sorry Mills, I just hate that she's in danger. If only I'd invited her back with me a Luna last night, she might have never been hurt" "I know Blitz, but thinking like that isn't going to help right now. We need to think of a way to get Y/N back, without handing Stolas over to him. He said he wanted a traid remember?" "Y-yeh? But we can't hand over Stolas" "That's why we need to think of something" Moxie perks up. "I might have an idea!" "What's that Mox? You and Millie dress us as Stolas while me and Luna distract him?" "Wait...how did you?" "Mox, if I can think of it, Striker will figure it out in seconds" "Damn it!" Noone seems to know what to do, and Blitz looks like he's about to have a heart attack. That is, until Luna thinks of something. "I think I know what we can do" "What is it Loony?" "It involves us going to visit Stolas. Come on, let's go" "Oh my sweet Loony! Your so clever!" "Ugghh, whatever Blitz, just get your #sses in the van and lets go"

A whole day had passed, and due to your injuries, you had only just started to wake up out of unconsciousness. Your whole body felt like it had been hit by a bus, your head was sore and painful, and you could feel your waist tied with rope to a chair, and your wrists tied behind you too. There was no way for you to move, but the pain was enough to make you think twice before trying. Your eyes were adjusting to the light of the room, well there wasn't much of that. It seemed you were in some kind of old and disused room, filled with tools, broken pieces of furniture and broken windows shining in a little of the moonlight. You hear a door close behind you, and the sound of those same jingling boots coming up behind you. Strikers hand stroked around your neck, you hated that he touched you.

"Wakey wakey little darlin....man, you were out for nearly two days..." He says as he starts to slowly walk around you, facing you now. "How's about I take this little thing off of you" He says as he tears the duct tape from your mouth, it stung so much. "There we go....you comfortable hear little lady?" "........bite me......" "Ooohhh....little ladys got attitude...just makes me want you even more" "I'd never want you, you psychopathic c#ck sucker. What the f#ck did you do to me?" You ask, angry but still a little dazed. "Ah it's very simple. You see I road spiked your moterbike, drugged you and brought you back hear. Don't take it the wrong way darlin, I have business to do. And your the key to dealing with it"

"The key? What are you talking about?" "Your little friends....Blitz...Millie, and.....oh f#ck what was the other ones name again? F#ck it, it ain't important! What IS important, is that I'm gunna exchange you for my real target, with the help of your little imp friends" "They wouldn't do that! Stolas is an innocent guy, and our only way to do our job! Blitz wouldn't jeopardise that!" "Well he would....if your life was hangin in the balance..." "You sick f#ck....I don't care what you say, Blitz won't do it" "Oh really? Then why did he agree to meet me tonight to do the exchange?" "He...he what?" "That's right....he's bringing his royal f#ck toy hear, to give in exchange for you..." "But...he can't" "And why is that?" "Because....he'd loose everything he's ever wanted...that he's worked hard for....he wouldn't give that up and let Stolas die" "Clearly, in his eyes, you ARE that important. But I quite frankly don't care, I just want to kill that feathered f#ck and get my money. Now.....the meeting isn't happening for another hour. And it would be a shame to miss out on a chance to....(serenade) a beautiful woman such as yourself" "Don't you dare fucking touch me you creep!" "Oh come on little darlin....I can make you feel things no other man can..."

"Oh please! You have zero chance against Blitz!" "Bl-Blitz? You fucked that imp?!" "Oh yeh, and he ruined me for anyone else. And even if you tried, you would never even come close to being half the man he is in the bedroom. Your a pathetic excuse for an imp!" "Shut the f#ck up!" With one wack of his hand, he hits you so hard in the face that your vision goes blurry, and you spit out blood from where he hit you so hard. He suddenly grabs you by the neck, choking you as he stares at you, evil in his yellow eyes.

"How about I f#ck you infront of Blitz before I kill him huh? When he brings me that bird brain, I'll kill him, the stupid imp couple, that hell hound bitch, and then leave Blitz till last! He can see you go through even more torment before I shoot that f#ckers face off!.....but for now..." He let's go of your throat for just a second before he tears your ropes from your waist and hands, and throws you onto the floor. Struggling, and in so much pain as it is, you couldn't fight back even if you wanted to. His stance above you shadowed the moonlight, you were terrified. "For now it seems I'll just have to show you what happens when you act like a little bitch....I'll make that moterbike crash feel like a walk through a f#cking daisy field!......you did this to yourself you know...." An hour later, the meeting was about to start. Blitz and Stolas were standing in the back part of this disused industrial site, waiting for Striker and you to arrive. They heard a car driving up to them, which came to an abrupt halt just a few feet infront of them. Striker is the one who gets out of the car, pointing an angelic weapon at Blitz and Stolas. "Where is Y/N you mother f#cker!" "Ah ah ah...patience little imp....hand over the bird first" "No! Until we see Y/N, your getting nothing!" "Huh! Fine!" Still pointing the gun, Striker walks around the the back door, and hauls you out of the back, completely and utterly broken. He throws you to the ground, inbetween him, Blitz and Stolas. Stolas looked so worried and scared for you, and Blitz looked utterly heartbroken.

It caused him so much pain and anger to see you like this, how dare he do this too you. "Y/N! Oh shit Y/N I'm so sor-" "Ah ah! Don't go near her Blitz! She's mine for now" "She doesn't belong to you, you c#ck sucking-!" "Oh, but she does...until you hand HIM over...." Blitz couldn't keep his tear filled eyes off you, Striker had beaten you to a pulp. You had two black swollen eyes, blood on your lips, cuts and bruises on your face. You were limp on the ground, barley able to keep your head up or even look at Blitz. The beating you got from Striker had destroyed you, not to mention the other damage you sustained when the moterbike crashed. Tears streamed your face, and Blitz was at a war with himself, deciding weather to hold you in his arms or beat Striker to death.

Striker could see the pain in Blitz's eyes, and he made it worse by aiming the angelic gun, now at you! "I said! HAND HIM OVER!" Blitz looked up at Stolas, and Stolas just simply nodded and started to walk over to Striker. "That's it...nice and steady" Stolas never said a word as he stood close to Striker, the gun now aimed at him instead. "Thank you Blitz, it seemed you ain't so useless after all" "We've made the trade, now let me help her-" "Hmmmm.....wait....on second thought.....how about I just kill you all?" "What?!"

"Oh come on Blitz, you really thought is was gunna be that easy? I'll deal with this bird brain first....then I'll deal with you, and this bitch! But don't worry, I won't kill you straight away....I wanna make you watch her suffer....just a little more..." "You mother fu-" "Awww, it's a shame it had to happen this way Blitz, I thought we could be a really good team" "......You know what?......the only person who's gunna end up dead tonight is you" "What?" "Come on....you really thought it was gunna be this easy for YOU either?" Blitz said with a smirk. Full of rage, Striker fired the gun at Stolas....but it didn't kill him. In fact it went straight through him like he was made of air, how? The moment he did that, this figure of Stolas evaporated, like he was a mirage. "WHAT THE FUCK!? YOU SON OF A-"

Striker swings around, about to take out Blitz instead, but it Blitz's plan was about to take affect. A gun shoots through the air and hit Striker in his shoulder, Millie and Moxie had been hiding behind an old car the whole time! And they had jumped out and started shooting at Striker, in a stand off! This meant Blitz could jump to you and cover you from any gun fire. "Oh sh#t! Y/N! I'm gunna get you out of hear ok?!" "Blitz....you came...." You just about manage to say with the last of your strength, Blitz couldn't bare to see you like this. "I'm sorry, I'm so so sorry sweetie! I should have kept you safe! I should have protected you!" You reach out and hold his hand, trying your best to show him that it's ok, and that you understand. He smiles weakly, and kisses your hand. "I'm gunna make sure your safe sweetie" Despite the gun fire in the background, Blitz is gentle as he picks you up in his arms, being as careful as he can with you. You hiss in pain, it's too much. "Shhh shhh it's alright, your gunna be somewhere safe soon. Just hold on" Moments later, a portal opens to the real Stolas on the other side, looking worried. "Oh my! Blitzy, what happened to her?!" "Never mind that now Stolas! Please take her, help her and keep her safe!" "Of course Blitzy" Blitz hands you to Stolas, and he was just as gentle with you as Blitz was. "I'll be back as soon as I can alright? I'm gunna go gake care of that b#stard!"

The last you see of Blitz, Millie, Moxie and Luna is the faint glimpse of them all fighting Striker, right before the portal closes. "Oh my poor sweet Y/N, how could someone do this to you? Just hang in there, I'm taking you to the best hospital there is"

You just about manage to hear him say that, but the pain was over flowing, and your body couldn't stay conscious anymore. The world turned black when your eyes fluttered shut. "Oh my! Y/N? Y/N?!" Hours later, your safely in a hospital bed with Stolas by your side, not leaving you for anything. Thankfully, they had managed to help you, and so did Stolas. He used his book to try out some healing spells on you, that helped with the internal bleeding you had, and got you out of the deadly danger zone. There was only so much the book could do for you though, and that's where the hospital are standing in. The bruising, swelling and pain is being kept under control with pain medication, you unfortunately were still passed out, your poor body had gone through so much, any strength you had, was now gone. About 20 minutes later, Blitz and the others run into the hospital room, out of breath and physically drained. Moxie and Millie collapsed against the wall, Blitz ran straight to you and Luna soon joined too. "Y/N! Is she ok Stolas?! Please tell me she's gunna be alright!" "It's ok Blitzy, she's going to be alright" Luna asked "What injuries did she have?" Stolas takes a breath. "Maybe we should stand outside for a moment?"

He didn't feel comfortable talking about your injuries when you could possibly hear. Blitz was hesitant of leaving you at first, but he knew you were in the best place, and that you were safe. They all stood outside and Stolas explained what you had gone through. It seemed any injury you could have sustained, you did. You had been assulted by Striker to within an inch of your life, which caused broken ribs, broken wrist, cracked ankle and your body was covered in bruising from head to toe. You had also suffered even worse damage from the moterbike crash. Nerve damage and a ruptured spleen, which was thankfully dealt with quickly and efficiently thanks to Stolas's book. It was no wonder you had been in so much pain, pretty much nothing on you had been untouched. Blitz collapsed to the floor when hearing this, he hid his face in his hands as the angry and guilt filled tears poured out of him. The poor guy blamed himself for what happened to you, he blamed himself for everything bad that had happened to people he loved or cared about. Including what happened in the circus years ago, he felt like a curse. "Blitzy, it's ok. She's going to make it" "But look at what she's gone through! I couldn't-I couldn't help her!" "Oh but you did Blitzy....she was in danger and you saved her. She's now in hospital, and she's safe again" "But for how long?! We couldn't....." "You couldn't what?" Moxie clears his throat. "Striker got away...we couldn't k#ll him. Which means he is still a danger to you and Y/N" Stolas takes a breath to steady himself, then he says. "I....I see....But...There is danger everywhere you look. We're in hell! Of course there will be! But me and Y/N are both safe, and I know that she is going to be ok once she's herself again. Blitzy? Blitzy look at me"

Still teary eyed, he looks up at Stolas. "Y/N is going to be ok....and your to thank for that. Now....at this moment, she needs you. Why don't you go and sit with her? I can see you need to be with her"

Wiping his cheeks, Blitz stands up and steadied his breath. He wanted to be calm before going into see you, he needed to be. He walked in, where Stolas talks to the others who are still in the hall. "Are you all alright?" "Yes your majesty" "Are any of you hurt?" "A few cuts hear and there, but nothing we can't handle" Millie says with a smile, she was a tough cookie. Luna runs her hand through her hair as she speaks. "I'm fine, I bit that b#stard in the arm before he got away. But I'm good" "Oh thank goodness. And, what about Blitzy? He seems..." "He's just worried about Y/N, your majesty" Moxie says. "He's been so worried about her ever since she never turned up for work. Knowing Blitz, he isn't going to leave that room for a while" "I do believe your right" Moxie and Millie tell Luna and Stolas that they are going to go and grab some clothes from your flat for you, and they will be back a little later. And Luna heads in the direction of the hospital canteen, she thought everyone could do with something to eat or drink. Stolas was now left by himself, he leant against the door of your room, and observed Blitz sitting beside you. He was in pieces. In the room, you lie there, pale, bruised and totally lifeless, poor Blitz couldn't control his tears. "I'm...I'm so sorry Y/N....for everything. F#cking christ! Why do I f#ck up everyone whose closest to me? Barbie, Fizz...and now you...I don't deserve you as a friend, or even more than that to be truthful. Any imp would beg to have a woman like you...and I can't even....oh f#ck!" He couldn't contain it anymore, and burst out into tears, hiding his face away from the world. The pain and guilt he felt for you was overwhelming.

He suddenly felt a warm hand on his shoulder, making him turn to see who it was. "Blitzy.....I'm so sorry..." He couldn't speak word, the tears just kept coming, and Stolas just sat beside him, holding him by his shoulders gently as he let all that pain out. "When I find that f#cker-" "Striker shouldn't be your priority now Blitzy...she should be" "Your right, your right I...damn it I just don't know what I can do for her Stolas. What do I do?" "Anything you think will help her....comfort her when she wakes up, talk gently to her, reassure her that she's going to be alright" "She will be! Because I ain't gunna let anyone hurt her ever again!" "I believe you Blitzy, she is lucky to have you by her side....I'm going to give my daughter a call, I have to pick her up from her mothers home tonight. Are you going to be alright hear?" "Yeh, I'll be fine. I'm not leaving her" "Alright Blitzy, I'll come by tomorrow to check on the both of you, ok?" Stolas gently pats Blitz on the back before leaving the room, so now it's just you and Blitz. "I hope you wake up soon Y/N...I can't bare to see you like this" A knock at the door alerts Blitz, like he is expecting danger. "Chill out Blitz, it's just me" "Oh! I'm sorry Loony...I guess I'm a little on edge" "Yeh no sh#t. Hear, I got you somethin" "Thank you Loony" She hands Blitz a bottle of drink and a sandwich, but he just plays with it in his hands. "Hows she doing?" "She isn't awake yet. I don't know when she will be" "The doctor told me outside that she may be hear for a few weeks, but thanks to Stolas, she's gunna recover a lot better than anticipated" Blitz nods, still a little teary eyed. Luna couldn't help but feel sorry for him. Taking a seat beside him, she gave his hand a quick squeeze, but then let go again. "She'll be ok dad" "Thanks Loony....your the best daughter anyone could ask for" She looked away the second he said that, trying to hide her cute little puppy dog eyes, that was very corny, but one of the nicest things he has said to her. And he is always trying to be sweet to her.

The sound of the beeping monitor started to make you stir from your drowsiness, your vision started to brighten and unblur, and the moment your eyes completely opened, you saw Blitz and Luna sat beside you.

"Blitz?" You ask in a quiet and groggy voice. "Y/N! Oh thank satan! Your awake!" He shouts cheerfully as he leans in to hug you. "Hhsss! Ouch!" "Oh! F#ck! Sorry sorry! I should have been a little more gentle" "Don't worry, it's ok" Silly Blitz just smiled happily and held your hand, Luna asked you "So Y/N? How you feelin?" "Like sh#t, that has been run over by a truck" "Seems about right, heh. I could always smuggle you some vodka to help ease the stress?" Blitz looked at her in utter shock. "Loony!" "What? Are you really gunna sit there and tell me that drinking vodka hasn't helped you with pain in the past?" "Well....I....touche!" You giggle, Blitz couldn't exactly deny that when Luna asked. "I'm fine thanks Luna, whatever the nurses are pumping into me, seems to be doing the trick. Are you guys all ok? Where are Moxie and Millie? Where's Stolas? And what the hell happened when you came to find me?" "M&M went to get you some of your things, Stolas is fine, and on the phone to his kid. And, yeh....I suppose we owe you an explanation for what happened. I'll try to sum it up as best as I can. So when Striker left that message for us, he wanted Stolas in exchange for you. So Loony had an idea, and we spoke to Stolas at his castle. Turns out that book can do loads of other cool sh#t besides take us to the living world! Anyway, Stolas suggested we do a spell where it looks like he's beside us, until the very last moment, making Striker think he's actualy there! And Lonny suggested that we ambush Striker when he brought you out, and Stolas could teleport you away while we dealt with him! We knew that you would be in no position to fight, the best thing to do was to get you out of there as quickly as possible"

"And that's why you stayed behind? Gave me to Stolas so you could k#ll Striker?" "Well...believe me Y/N we all did our best at the time! But that slippery f#cker managed to get away! Again! But trust me, none of us are gunna let him go near you again" "He's still out there? Does that mean he want to still k#ll stolas?" "Yeh, but that ain't gunna happen either, I promise" You just smile, seeing how serious he was about the whole thing, it was definitely a lot to take in when hearing their plan to get you back. You were just glad to be back with your friends again, and not in half as much pain as before. "Hey Y/N, you'll be happy to know that Striker didn't get away easily" "He didn't? Why? What did you do Luna?" "We all pretty much f#cked him up real good. And I even bit him!" "Nice, was it his head?" "I tried, but the pr#ck was too fast" You both chuckle, Luna was definitely not someone to f#ck with. "I can see Millie pulling up with Moxie, I'm gunna go see them and have a cigarette. I'll be back soon" "Alright Loony" Once Luna left the room, Blitz squeezes your hand a little more, and you can see the pain he still holds. "Blitz...it's ok" "Ok?...Y/N your in a hospital, beaten and-" "But you saved me, you all saved me. I'm not being held by Striker anymore" "I know, I know but-" "But nothing Blitz, please? I can see the guilt in your eyes, but you have nothing to feel guilty about. I'm safe now because of you, and that's the end of it. Ok?" "Heh...how can you be so positive when your in this state?" "Is it because I'm awesome?" "Ha! F#ck yeh!......Look, I promise I will keep you safe from him ok?" "I know Blitz, I believe you"

Smiling happily at you, he means over and gives you a kiss on tne forhead, he ws so cute. "How long did the doctor say I was gunna be in hear for?" "Uhh? I think about 3 weeks" "3 weeks? I'm not sure I'm gunna be able to last that long" "Without what?" "Without being back in your office" "You've got to be kidding me! Your thinking about going back to work?! Your gunna put your health at risk to help us-" "Blitz" "What?!" "When I said about being back in your office.....that's not quite what I meant....." "Huh? What do you-Ooooh! Oh you mean (that). I get it now, god I'm such a f#cking idiot sometimes-woh woh wait wait wait! Seriously? You....you still wanna...with me?" "Of course Blitz, why would you think would change my mind?" "I-I dont know? I just guessed...you wouldn't. And come on! Your thinking about THAT in your state!" "Yeh well, I'm not gunna be in this state forever am I?" "I...suppose you make a good point. So....you wanna little piece of me? When you feel a little better?" "Maybe I will...." His sexy chuckle always made you feel wanted, especially when he leaned over and started kissing you so f#cking well. You've missed the taste of his lips, god damn. "Mmm, I cant wait to-" Suddenly there is a knock at the door, and Moxie and Millie walk in, holding a bag of your things. "Oh sh#t! Hey M&M! I didn't know you were back yet?" "We were just talking to Luna outside sir" "Well, he says talking. Luna threatened to kick him in the nuts if he asked her how she was"

Millie said in an amused way. "Awww, that's my Loony!" "Seriously sir? You'll let your adoptive daughter talk to me like that?" "Yeh, I don't really care Mox. Anyway! Look who's awake!" Millie and Moxie greet you with a hug and kind words, asking how you are feeling and what they could do to help. The afternoon went by so quickly, you hadn't even realised it was now the end of the day, and Moxie and Millie were going to head home. "Hey Blitz, Millie said she'll drop me back at the flat on her way home with Moxie. I'll see you later" "Awww ok Loony, thanks for taking her Mills" "it's no problem Blitz, see you tomorow you two" They all say their goodbyes, then it was just you and Blitz left in the hospital room. "I'm confused" "Why?" They left, and your still hear. Why didn't you go with them?" "Oh please! You really think I'm gunna leave you buy yourself? F#ck that shit!" He pulls in a fold out chair from the hallway, and puts it beside you. "Blitz, you dont have to stay over night with me, you can go home" "You ain't making me change my mind, I want to stay, and keep an eye on you" "Blitz that's.....that's very sweet. Thank you" Sitting on the end of the bed with you, he smiles warmly, happy your feeling better. "You tired yet?" "No, but to be fair I think I was passed out for long enough" "Yeh that's true, the last time I was passed out for longer than you were, I think it was a night and day long rave at one of Mamons gigs" "Mamon? That #sshole that Fizz works for?" "Yeh that's the one" "Are you tired Blitz?" "Me? Nah I'm fine. Don't feel tired at all. Why?.....ooohhhh! Do you want a little.....attention?" "If your gunna suggest a f#ck, I'm not sure I can even move properly. Especially with the damage I've got" "Well not a f#ck, maybe a little foreplay? No, I'm sorry that's stupid of me. Your in a bad state" "In too bad a state for s#x yes, but maybe...." "Maybe what?" "Just a little makeout?" "Aww your too cute!" "Blitz! I am not cute!" "Oh yes you are! Your f#cking adorable!" Giggling at him, you just playfully push his arm. But he does slide beside you on your bed and holds you a little closer, with one hand already resting on your cheek. "I'm more than happy to makeout with you....those lips can be damn addictive..." "Is that the reason you bit one of them when we were in the office?" "Hell yeh! Can you blame me?! Now come hear gorgeous...let me make you feel good for a while....I can be whatever you want me to be...." "Oh! Can you be my personal slave?" "Don't push it sh#t tits! Haha!"

[selfloverrrrrr]

Enemies... so what?

Warnings: smut, heavy smut, unprotected sex, bully, dubcon, jealousy....

(All characters are aged up/18+)

Masterlist

Minors Do Not Interact

Read the warnings carefully....if you don't like my stories block me not report

I was standing in the coffee shop for my coffee. I had a meeting in half an hour. Finally my order came. I took the coffee , thanked them with a smile and give the money. I turned around and was about to leave when I bumped into someone on the doorway and half of my coffee spilled on his shirt. I was about to say sorry but the guy suddenly said some rough words. "Bitch! Are you fucking blind????" He said. I looked at him. He had red eyes and pink hair. I was about reply but I taken back, glared at him and rushed out of the coffee shop while pushed him out of my way.

After half an hour I went to the meeting hall. There was a meeting with a big company today. The Boss was coming at the meeting. They said their Boss was coming late for some reason. Afte 15 minite the Boss entered. My eyes widened. The fuck was I seeing??? It was the same man at the coffee shop. His eyes immediately meet mine. Fear grabbed me. He was glaring at me but then smirked and come in hall. The meeting started but I can't hide the awkwardness.

After the meeting ended everyone was greeting with that man who's name was Ryomen Sukuna. My Boss was greeting and talking with him. I just grabbed my things and rushed towards the door. Suddenly Sukuna called me "hey you.... come here" he said from my back. I squeezed my eyes shut. "Fuck" I cursed myself and slowly walked towards them. "What's your name?" He asked. "Y-Y/n" I replied. "Do you mind if I take your this employee as my employee?" He asked my boss. I Shaked my head side by side signing him to say no but that dumb old man said YES. I could feel the smirk on Sukuna's face without even looking at him.

I started working at his company and that was the WORST thing of my life. I fucking knew he wants some revenge for that coffee shop incident. But he was taking the revenge every fucking day. Bullying me infront of everyone. I just hate him so much.

So there was another well-known big company like Sukuna's company. That was Gojo Satoru's company. I knew Gojo from my old job. I met him in many meetings and we also talked too. Today he came to the office to talk with Sukuna. After their meeting finished he was going out when he saw me. "Y/n... you working here now?" He asked. "Gojo-san? Nice to see you... yeah I'm working here now " I replied. That talking went to showing him my work room then him pressing my back on my table. "You're looking gorgeous.... you always do" he said. "Really?" I asked. "Definitely.... Yk what... I should take you out" he said with a grin. I looked at him my hand sliding down from his chest to his abs and stop to his belt. I grabbed his belt and pulled him closer. He smirked. Our lips almost touched. We were about to kiss when Gojo's phone rang. "Bullshit " he said. He picked up the call and it was about work and he had to go. He said bye to me and told me he's gonna call me and leaved.

The number of work I have done that day!!! It was almost night. Everyone already leaved. I packed my things up and went to the elevator. The doors were closing and I stopped it and went inside quickly. And there was none other than Sukuna himself. "Slow down.... The elevator isn't gonna fly away!" He said jokingly. And I ignored his words. In the middle of the building the elevator stoped. My eyes widened with fear. How am I gonna go home now?... I pressed the emergency button but that was broken... I panicked more. And I heard him cackling from behind. That made my anger out of control. I turned around and looked at him. He was smirking instead of doing anything. "THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING???? FUCKING UGLY MAN... YOU ARE UGLY JUST LIKE THIS BROKEN ELEVATOR OF YOUR FUCKING OFFICE!!!" I scremed at him. His smirk disappeared. And the look he was giving me right now have me chills. He grabbed my sides turned around and pinned me at the corner of the elevator. "You should watch your fucking mouth!...or else..." He said with grinded teeth. "O-or else.... w-what huh?" I said trying to show him I'm not afraid. He smirked again. "You wanna be a bitch huh? Then let's treat you like a bitch!" He said and crashed his lips on mine.

My eyes widened. I tried to push him away but he was too strong. He finally pulled away but started sucking on my neck. "W-what are you doing!!" I said. He didn't listen and continued that to my clivage. "S-stop" I said. He grabbed the hem of my top and pulled it over my head. My boobs bounced out. He looked at those with lust in his eyes and didn't waste any time, crashed his mouth on my breast licking, sucking and teasing the nipple and squeezing the other one with his hand. I moaned in the sensetion. I grabbed his hair and tried to stop him by pulling it but it didn't even effect on him. "S-stopppp" I scremed but he didn't stop.

Then he took off my skirt and then took off my pantie."I'm gonna took it~" he whispered and then looked at my pussy. He rubbed his finger on my clit and whispered "you're so fucking wet babygirl~" he whispered and put two fingers inside me. I couldn't help but moan loudly. He smirked at my reaction and undo his pant.

His dick sprang out. It was too big and too thick. Fear grabbed me by my neck. " no no no...P-please no... s-stop" I begged but didn't even listen to me and slammed his whole dick inside me in one slide. I scremed. He didn't even give me time to adjust his size and started thursting in and out roughly. I was throughig my legs with pain and begging him to stop. And he was liking it so much. His thurst became harder and harder. I clenched around him tightly and he moaned loudly " ughhhhhh....ahhh s-so...ahhhh....so f-fucking tight " he started rubbing my clit with his thumb and I bite his shoulder scratched his back to control myself. Time was passing... it's the third time he edged me. And I'm begging him to let me cum. "We're you planning something with Gojo....go ask him" He said. "Oh look what kind of a whore you are... clenching around me just by hearing his name " he whispered. After a few more time he finally let me cum.

With a few more thurst I came. He was still thursting roughly. I felt his cock pulsing inside me. I tried to push him away with all of my strength. Within a minute he came inside me I could feel his seed inside me. He pulled out. My vision blurred out. And I don't even know how we get out of that elevator.

Give me your requests guys...

I love when you give me your requests 💗💖

[anonymitywriterprescott]

The ding of the door opening gets my attention, so I walk, minding the gap, onto the train. Looking around for a seat, I notice the empty train car and choose to sit close to the door.

I scroll on my phone as the train starts moving again. 6:09 pm. A call notification appears on screen as the ringtone echoes through the car, making it sound bigger and emptier than it is. "Babe <3" is calling. "Hello love, what's up?" "Sooo I may have promised a lovely homemade lasagna but we will probably be having your choice of fast food tonight instead." They say, sounding sorry as ever and a bit annoyed. "Oh noo, What happened? You ok?" "Yeah, no bruises, burns, or blood, but the oven shit the bed again, and I already called the office to see if and when it could get replaced this time instead of just a duct tape fix, but they said it would be at least 3 weeks." "3 fucking weeks? They expect us to not cook for 3 fucking weeks, really?" My voice is barely below yelling. "Hey, it'll be ok; I already texted my mom, I can go over tomorrow and premake some stuff, aaaand she's giving us her microwave because she never uses it, so we can reheat it all." Their voice sounds desperate to calm me, knowing how much I hate that stupid, old-ass, fucking oven. "I guess I'll need to sneak a $50 in her pocket because I doubt she'll let us pay for it." "You would be right. So, do you wanna pick up dinner on your way, or should I order delivery?" "Delivery," I glance at the time on my phone. 6:27 pm. "feels like the train is taking forever, and I don't wanna carry the food up the stairs." "Alright baby, text me what you want, Love you." "Love you, bye." I tap the end call button and go to our texts, filling out where to order from and what I want. The text continuously attempts to send but fails. I have no signal, of course.

The clock reads 6:30 pm. This route is usually like 10 minutes, and we haven't stopped moving, so why is it taking so long? The windows show only darkness and an occasional flash from the tunnel lights. I walk to one of the doors connecting the cars and press the button to open it, but nothing happens. Same with the second door. A bright white light floods the car, but it's gone before my eyes adjust. The text continues failing to send. No signal means I can't call anyone or look up anything about train delays. The clock reads 6:30 pm. Still? I look at the walls to see if there is an emergency or call button or something that says a phone number to call if I get signal. Nothing. The clock reads 6:30 pm. I stare at my phone. 1 Mississippi, 2 Mississippi, 3 Mississippi… …59 Mississippi, 60 Mississippi. The clock reads 6:30 pm. Maybe I was a bit off on my timing, I tell myself, waiting for the minute to pass. It doesn't. The clock reads 6:30 pm. Finally, soft light seeps through the windows. Outside, a dim forest, trees with twisted limbs, and long-hanging vines whizz by. Every so often, I think I see a creature, but it looks… wrong. One of them was a deer, but the antlers looked like its legs? So time is… frozen, I can't get off the train, I am alone, and I'm seeing things?

"You're not seeing things, darling." A voice comes from the other side of the car. Startled, I quickly turned to see it. A tall, rectangular figure, wearing a red hat whose top scrapes the car's roof, whose brim covers its face, and a matching red suit that looks like it's made of silk. I stare wide-eyed, not knowing what it is or its intentions. Or why it can hear my thoughts. But I keep calm, "What am I seeing then?" "Not the thing you think." It says, speaking "That's upsettingly vague." "It's more literal than you realize." It cocks its head as if it's examining me.

Its face.

It feels like it's… out of focus? No matter how hard I try, I just can't quite… see it? "Don't hurt yourself." It says, looking me up and down. "Look at the wall if it helps." It sounds annoyed at my existence. Like my inability to see its features is an inconvenience of the highest accord. "May I have your name?" It reaches out its hand as if it expects me to give it something. Its hand has long, thin fingers that come to a point, like a pale grey claw, which turns pitch black towards the fingertips. "Only if I can have yours," I reply, using the same reply my mother always gave when people asked for her name. "Not worth the trade… no offense." It sneers at the end. "But your mother taught you well. Did you come here intentionally?" "Well I got on the train intentionally, but where ever we are now was not where I wanted to go." "And where do you wish to go?"

"Home." "Home it is."

My eyes close, and I feel a rush of air circle me. As the air dissipates, my eyes open, and I am in front of my apartment door, plastic white bags containing our dinner at my feet. The door swings open, and I see my partner's face and baggy pajamas. "Hey baby, good timing!" Silence fills the air, I try to speak, but my voice feels stuck in my throat. I can't wrap my head around this. "…baby? You ok?" Their hand strokes my shoulder, a slight touch, yet it feels like it drags my soul back into my body. I gasp, startling my partner. "I… don't know how… I got here…" I stumble out. "Well, you got here, and you seem unharmed. Come inside, love." They guide my arm, pulling me inside. As I walk into the apartment, I look for my phone, finding it in my pocket with a small, folded piece of paper that reads, "Safe travels, darling. Your mother says hello." The clock reads 6:30pm.

[kimbapisnotsushi]

it's akaashi's birthday!!! you guys know what that means!!!!!!!!!! have some timeskip special headcanons about akaashi and co. let's go!!!!

i think akaashi deserves a spin-off about his misadventures in the manga department honestly

gekkan shoujo nozaki kun. sekaiichi hatsukoi. bakuman. there is a lesson to be learned here people!!!!!

tenma gifts him a planner for his birthday and the first thing he does after opening it is mark all of tenma's deadlines. which he also has recorded in his phone calendar. AND he has them memorized. AND on sticky notes scattered throughout the office

tenma: you know i got you this planner so that you wouldn't have to put sticky notes everywhere, right? akaashi, sleep-deprived and running on five cups of coffee: time waits for no one, udai-san

the office has a special "akaashi keiji emergency rest kit" for when he falls asleep at his desk

it's got a blanket if it's cold, a pillow they tuck under his head, a bottle of water and snacks they leave next to him if he gets hungry/thirsty when he wakes up, and an eye mask that they put on him after they take off his glasses

idk i think the whole office really loves akaashi

and he really loves them back!!!! they're a team!!! they work together!!!! deadlines might be hell but at least it's a hell they're united in!!!

akaashi finding love and contentment and happiness in a place he initially wasn't sure about is everything to me okay

also i think he wingmans tenma and akiteru. i think it'd be very funny.

akaashi knows it's bad when he catches tenma drafting a whole new romance plot and he's like "udai-san. please. you have something due in five days you canNOT be doing this right now"

honestly akaashi just wants them to get together so that tenma will stop being dreamy and distracted and ACTUALLY focus on getting his manuscript done on time

and then they DO get together and akaashi is subjected to even more dreamy sighs and staring off into the distance and whatnot

tenma is such a disaster you guys i love him

ALSO YOU KNOW HOW MANGAKAS HAVE A LIL MASCOT TO REPRESENT THEMSELVES IN THE AUTHOR'S NOTE. TENMA'S IS DEFINITELY SOME KIND OF CROW

someone asks tenma if he has a favorite pro vball player and tenma says "hinata shouyou" with the BIGGEST smile on his face and hinata almost cries

LMAO HOW FUNNY WOULD IT BE IF KENMA OFFERED TO BANKROLL AND DEVELOP A ZOMBIE KNIGHTS VIDEO GAME

i mean i barely even know what zkz is about but based on the title i feel like it'd make a good video game

yachi can help design . . . lev and komi can voice act . . . yes . . . it's all coming together . . .

NEVER MIND I KNOW WHAT IT IS I READ A TRANSLATION OF THE LIGHT NOVEL IN THE MIDDLE OF WRITING THIS

he wrote zkz in a restaurant are you SHITTING me udai tenma i love you

so apparently it got discontinued?? instead of allowing tenma to finish it the way he wanted?? so when tenma hears that kenma wants to make a video game out of it he ends up in tears

kenma's like "well it might have failed as a manga. but i think it'd make a pretty good video game, if you want to help out with that"

god everything about it makes me want to cry actually. tenma who is still chasing after his dreams. and akaashi right there, learning how to be better. learning how to be passionate. learning how to give tenma his all. because he's TENMA'S editor and he'll be damned if he doesn't do it well.

udai tenma in an interview about meteo attack: "yes, i am sad i didn't get a chance to end zkz in a way that would have made me happy. it was my first series, and that's always going to be precious to me. but meteo attack is one i'm looking forward to. it's a story about learning how to fly, when everybody else has long since been trampling on your wings and telling you that you can't."

sorry i did NOT mean to get this emotional over them. but now i am. and i am going to be thinking about it forever

meteo attack def gets raving reviews from players in the pro volleyball league, especially from hinata shouyou