#and I want to at least have two or three chapters done before I start posting

[findinghomes]

I FINISHED WRITING THE FIRST CHAPTER OF MY LONGER PROJECT!!!!!!!

[quaranmine]

firewatch au chapter two has now surpassed the length of chapter one :]

[joemama-2]

velvet lies

pairing: gojo x fem reader synopsis: crippling debt and possible evictions have ruined you. working two jobs with no downtime, and a five-year-old son, you really don't know the meaning of taking a break. after continuous questions about his father, you have decided to finally let your son meet his dad. only thing is, he has no idea said son exists. and to top it off, you have not a single clue about what kinds of things will transpire from this sudden revelation. wc: 8564 tags/warnings: 18+ MDNI, smut, fluff, romance, alcohol, classism, mom! reader, lying, abuse, MAJOR angst, slow burn, exes to lovers, (mentions of) cheating, scandals, death, blood, drugs, drama, family drama, miscommunication, blackmail, unhealthy coping mechanisms , depression, manipulation a/n: longer chapter woohoo, was gonna write after break but had so much inspo. wrote on my phone, so if there’s any typos, please ignore 🥹 series masterlist < previous chapter < next chapter

The nights haven’t been easy in the past couple of days. Mingled with a growing sense of anxiety added on top of your already heightened stress, your brain just can’t seem to shut off. You’ve tried melatonin and no more caffeine, but caffeine is ultimately getting you through the day and keeping you up when needed. In all honesty, you’ve already been struggling with sleep, but with the surprise meet with Suguru, dread’s been pooling in your stomach.

You have no doubt he spilled the beans. Hell, you would too if that was your best friend. You can only hope he somehow didn’t, though. A small part of you would be a little annoyed if he did, because again, he has no role in this. At least not a big one.

A sudden banging on your door jolts you upright, checking the clock and it’s not even 7:30 yet. Only one person could be demanding your presence so early. A heavy sigh leaves you, forcing your stiff muscles out of bed, wrapping yourself in a robe before trudging to the front door. When you peek through the peephole, your landlord stands there with an annoyed expression on his old face, foot tapping the ground in impatience.

“Bastard,” you mumble to yourself before opening the door. “Good morning, Mr. Sato.”

Seems he doesn’t have time for fake pleasantries, “Y/N, I’m assuming you saw the eviction note I left on your door yesterday morning.”

Unfortunately. “Yes, sir. I did.”

His arms cross, scratching at his greying mustache, “So, is it also safe to to assume you’ll have the money by next Friday?”

You sigh heavily, hand running through your hair. This is not how you wanted to start your morning. He was already making your life hell by suddenly raising your rent out of nowhere three months ago for so-called “renovations”. But you’ve yet to see any actual renovations being done. Not to mention, you’ve been bugging about your heater no longer working, and during this time of year, you and Koji are practically freezing to death. You had to buy a portable heater, small, but it gets the job done. Although it’s mainly in Koji’s room because you’d rather freeze than let him. “Look, Mr. Sato, I’m really trying here. I’m working hard to get the money, but please understand that—”

“Understand? I’ve been understanding, Y/N. I even applied last month’s rent to this month, just ‘cause of you.”

Of course, he’s gonna throw that in your face. Landlords seem to take their title so literally that if he didn’t have this much control over your space of safety, you would’ve ripped him a new one. Also, how could you forget that to even get him to agree to that plea deal, you were forced through an hour and a half of an uncomfortable, infuriating dinner with the man. Really, he’s not giving you much to work with here, but then again, you shouldn’t have had such high hopes. “I know, I know,” you reply, scratching at your roots. “I’ll have the money, okay?”

“You better,” he says gruffly. “Or I’m renting this unit to someone who can actually afford it. I’m hurting here too, you know?”

You huff. “Yeah, thanks.”

Without another word, you close the door in the man’s face, locking it. Leaning your back up against the hard surface, you close your eyes and will yourself to stay calm and positive. Counting back from ten and then back, a small tip your therapist showed you before your insurance no longer covered it. It’s okay. It’s only the start of the day, you have 20 something hours left. Now’s not the time to throw yourself a pity party and play woe is me. Now’s the time to just pick yourself up and move on. You’ll find a solution for the money, you always do.

Though this time, you can’t help but feel you’re really fucked.

I mean, you honestly have no idea how you’re going to come up with almost four thousand dollars in just a week. That sounds quite literally impossible in every single way. You get paid next week, but with taxes, you’re going home with maybe three thousand, so how will you get that extra thousand?

Unless some miracle decides to hit you, which almost never seems to happen. You used to think someone hoaxed you, or you were just born with the most unluckiest luck ever. Or, the more cynical thought you tend to have, you were fated to live a life in strict financial management, and hardships are constantly thrown at you left and right.

But hey, you’ve made it this far, right?

“No, I haven’t.”

“You what?!”

“I haven’t told him.”

“Y/N, what the fu–”

“Jesus Christ, I know, Hana. You don’t have to make me feel even more like shit.”

Your friend stops mid-way, eyeing your very displeased expression. She sighs and relents, slumping back in the small chair in the backroom of the cafe. She doesn’t say anything for a few seconds, letting your confession simmer and process. When she does, it’s an honest question. “But…why?”

Why. You feel like you’re staring to hate that damn word. “A lot of reasons, I know it’s not really justified, but I just…need someone to understand me for once. Not come at me for my dumb decisions.”

Your words feel bare and raw, not completely exposing the extent of the emotions you’ve been harboring, but enough to make her stop. Hana regards you with pursed lips, a hint of sadness in her eyes. Finally, she nods. “Okay, I won’t question you anymore. You have your reasons, and your reasons are always valid. So, I’m behind you on this. We stick together, remember?”

A hint of a smile forms on your lips, quietly thanking her. She comes forward to give you a hug, one you immediately reciprocate. Her auburn hair tickling your nostrils, arms seemingly tightening. “Don’t go holding things in anymore, I told you that. I’m here, to talk, listen, whatever.”

You and Hana met three years ago. She was just your co-worker at the time, now promoted to your manager. Although she’s two years younger than you, you two relate to a lot of things. Whether that be movies, food, what guys are hot, or alcohol. If anything, Hana might be your only friend in general. It’s a little sad, maybe, but at least you have someone to come to when you need to talk about adult issues your five-year-old wouldn’t be able to comprehend.

“I love you.” You find yourself muttering.

“I love you too, girl. Now, get out there, your break’s up.”

Jokingly scoffing and nudging her, you stand from the seat and do a quick stretch. Preparing yourself for yet another few hours of dreaded customer service and fake smiles, you walk out of the backroom, pushing the small curtains aside that separate the back from the counter, and clock back in.

“Cash or card?”

“Hello, how can I help you today?”

“Would that be all?”

“Have a nice day.”

Are all phrases any retail or customer service worker finds a little annoying, if not a lot. It’s so draining. And when the customers don’t greet you back, your pettiness shines through and you won’t even say have a good day to them when they’re leaving. Although, the job does have some upsides to it. For example, you get to make free coffees, take whatever pastries are left at the end of the day home, and the customers are never really bad. Of course, you have had a couple experiences, but nothing compared to a chain store. You’re even starting to use your customer service voice throughout the day, even when you’re not at work. Honestly, that’s not very good.

As you’re wiping up the counter, you feel a buzzing in your pocket. Taking your phone out, you see a set of numbers, an unsaved contact. You give Hana a quick glance, muttering a “just a sec”, before going back to the back to answer. “Hello?”

“Y/N?”

God, it’s gonna take some time getting used to his voice on the regular now. “Oh, Suguru. hey…uh–what’s up?”

There’s some shuffle on the other side like he’s adjusting the phone. “Are you busy right now?”

“Well, yes. I’m on the clock.”

He sighs, phone switching to his car output. “Where do you work? I’ll come now.”

“What?” you splutter out, head shaking. “No, Suguru, you can’t just pop out at my job. I’m busy, just tell me what you need right now.”

“I’m not sure I should.”

That statement alone scares you a bit. His cynicism always got on your nerves, but it also worried you from time to time. Most of the time, he didn’t mean any harm because that’s just how Suguru was, but it still did its job. Contemplation strikes through you. “Is it bad?”

He hesitates, which only further skyrockets your anticipation. “Honestly, it’s not too bad. But still, I need to talk to you.”

A breath emits from your lips, one you didn’t know you were holding. Eyes meeting the ceiling, you ponder over your decisions. Eventually, you come to a conclusion. “Fine, but it can’t be too long. I’m at Deja Brew, the cafe on–”

“On Express, got it. Be there in a bit.”

He’s hanging up before you even get a chance to question that he knew the cafe you worked at. If he did, surely he would have visited at least once, but you’ve never seen him come in. And you’re every day. Unless he usually comes when you’re not clocked in anymore. Anywho, you steel yourself for the inevitable conversation. Anticipating whatever bad or not-so-good news he'll give you.

“So.”

“Mm, this is good.” Suguru nods appreciatively, sipping from his coffee. You made it for him before he arrived, as a weird sort of gift to him. You two have situated yourself in a booth in the corner. Hana was a little confused as to why you were taking a break while you were on the clock, even regarding you with an almost scolding look. But the second she saw Suguru follow, her expression changed.

You practically saw the heart eyes form, smiling in a bashful way. That’s one thing you forgot about. The way girls would magnetize themselves towards the man, his best friend too. The two together were an almost deadly duo.

“Suguru,” you say, a hint of exasperation in your tone. “Please just…don’t stall anymore. Why did you want to see me?”

“Right,” he clears his throat, sitting up straighter. Once more, his steely gaze meets yours, you have to hold back the sudden urge to look away. “Like I said, it’s not terrible news, but not very good either.”

You nod, wanting him to just stop with the extraness and get to the point. “Okay, say it.”

“Satoru.” is the first thing he says, gauging your automatic grimace to his name. “He knows.”

Figures. “And you told him?”

He nods in response. You exhale, rubbing your face. “Suguru, why? I didn’t say you could.”

“I mean, I didn’t think I needed permission to tell my best friend he has a secret love child he hasn’t known about for five years, Y/N.” You hate when his voice gets like that, like you’re a school child who’s just been caught by her teacher for doing something she wasn’t supposed to. “Anywho, he knows. He wasn’t…very happy.”

You slowly ask, unsure if you’re ready to hear the answer. “What did he say?”

“More so what he did than said,” he pushes a stray strand of black hair out his eye and behind his ear, arms crossing. “He’s been quite easy to anger. I mean, I haven’t really talked to him because he’s not answering my calls, but I’ve been hearing from people at the office. He also kicked my ass out right after I told him. But that’s all I know at least, Nanami says he’s like a ticking time bomb.”

Jesus Christ. You don’t know what else you were expecting, you’re surprised he hasn’t done worse, but like Suguru said, that’s all he knows. His state is most likely a hundred times worse than what’s being thrown at you right now. You feel an intense guilt pool, mixing with a slight fear. “Did he…do anything else? Say anything?”

“I don’t know, he’s not talking to me right now.” Suguru concedes, leaning closer to you, brows furrowing in a seriousness. “Look, I’m not telling you this because I want you to feel worse, but I should let you know. He’s going to try and seek you out now that he knows about his son. You know that, right?”

Of course, you fucking know that. That’s what makes you scared, the possibility of somehow running across him in the most unsuspecting of places makes you want to stay holed up in your shitty apartment. “Yeah,” you gulp. “I figured.”

“I don’t know how he’ll react if–when–he does see you.” he honestly admits. “I just think you should reach out to him first, before he does it. I have his number, you should ca—”

“Stop.” you hold a hand up, eyes closing. “No more, I don’t want to be told what to do. I just…need some time processing everything right now.”

“Y/N–”

“Suguru,” your eyes open, staring at him dead on. “You seriously can’t expect me to jump from one thing to the next. I need fucking time to figure out what I’m gonna do. I’m already stressed as it is, now I have to worry about my son’s father possibly trying to reach out and that just sets me more on fucking edge. You come to my work, spring this on me, and I–” you’re rambling. Cutting yourself off in the middle of a sentence, choosing not to finish it. The last thing you need to do is rant to him. Besides, you’re just starting to see him again after five years, that would absolutely put him in a weird place between comforting someone who was once his friend, and backing up his life-long best friend.

You jolt a bit when you feel a warm palm envelope your hand, his thumb gently rubbing across your knuckles. Looking back at him, he gives you an all too familiar look. One that can make you just pour out everything you’re feeling right at that second. It’s a horrifying technique he has. “I’m sorry. Really, I’m sorry. The last thing I want to do is make you feel like shit. I should’ve been more considerate. I’m sorry.” He apologizes with a soothing intonation. Again, it’s making you feel warm. “It’s a hard situation, I could never know exactly what you’re going through. but…I care about you, Y/N. I always have, even without Satoru’s involvement. So, I’ll do better and not overwhelm you.”

Damn it, Suguru. Now you’re making me feel bad! Not trusting yourself with words, you meekly nod, slowly pulling your hand out his grasp. You miss the way his eyes dart down to his now empty grip, a small downward twitch to his lip that he expertly hides. “I should go back to work, I’m assuming you do too.” You stand on wobbly feet, giving him one last lingering gaze. “On the house, by the way….yeah, bye.”

Suguru watches you disappear behind the curtains, a small pit expanding in his gut. He pushes it away without thought, sighing to himself as he stands and exits the cafe. He walks down the sidewalk to his blacked out 2025 Mustang GT parked on the street. Getting in with a heavy head that’s full of all kinds of emotions. Some he doesn’t try to acknowledge, but the ones he does, it’s all worry and concern. He really doesn’t see how this situation can somehow turn around. Maybe you two will have a very mature and calm conversation when you cross paths.

He almost laughs to himself when he begins driving. Calm? Mature? Yeah, right. How do you have a calm conversation about hiding a kid for five years? Not to mention, you and Satoru are equally stubborn; it used to be so infuriating for him.

Suguru had patience, a lot of it actually. But you two tended to test that. Although, he would always forgive one of you the quickest. Cough, cough. You. It was like you had this weird thing about you that made the people around you just…like you.

His grip tightens on the wheel, biting his lip. He gets to a red light, thumb tapping on the material. Damn it all.

There’s a ringing that emits from the car’s speakers, looking at his touch screen to see the familiar name. Using this as a distraction, he answers. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Shoko’s voice sounds out. “Where are you? Thought you were paying for my lunch.”

He huffs, eyes rolling, and moving the car forward once the light turns green. “I never agreed to that.”

“Sure you did,” Shoko replies, exhaling a breath. She must be smoking. “Anyway, hurry up. I’m already waiting outside. I thought Satoru was coming, is he gonna be late again?”

Yeah, no. “I don’t think he’s coming anymore.”

“Why not?” Shoko asks.

Suguru exhales heavily, turning the street towards the meet-up spot with his friend. “Some shit happened, I don’t think he’s doing good.”

Shoko pauses, adjusting her phone in hand. “What happened?”

Suguru too stops, completely forgetting how Shoko has no idea about what has transpired in the past couple of days. “I’ll tell you when I see you.”

Satoru has never been surprised before, not technically. He’s a smart man with quick instincts and a good foresight, it’s like he can always tell when something is going to happen, before it happens. Even for birthday parties, his perception and people reading skills are great, he knows when someone’s lying or not telling the full truth.

In short, he knows a lot of things.

But, what he didn’t expect was for 1) even hearing your name ever again after the breakup, and 2) you have a son, his son. A son he had not one goddamn clue about. The only person who’s ever been able to throw him off his game is you.

Even back when you two dated, there were moments where you’d either say or do things that would make him pause for a second and think how unlikely that was of you. He knew you’d lie sometimes, small white lies weren’t foreign to him because he did it too. But, he never thought you’d deliberately keep something like this from him.

And to top it off, if Suguru never saw you by chance that day, would you have ever even told him?

Now that really fucking pisses him off.

When Satoru is mad, everyone else’s day is ruined. When he’s mad, you can see it in his face, his body, how he’s just barely holding himself back. It’s even more scary when Satoru is known as the laid-back, playful and unserious type of man. So when he’s mad, almost no one in the office wants to make him even angrier, let alone be around him.

He’s barely slept a total of ten hours within the past two days, mind keeping him awake. He’s trying to not imagine the image of you holding a boy who looks like him because he’s already broken one too many pairs of glasses and the thought alone makes him infuriated. He sees a blinding white flash of betrayal, hurt, confusion, and anger.

He doesn’t mean to take it out on his employees, but their feelings are not on his list of priorities.

He has a son.

A son who’s five, apparently.

Five whole years of being kept in the dark, not even being blessed with a smidge of information about his offspring. While he was off fucking women, having fun, dreading about taking over his father’s business, you were god knows where, changing fucking diapers and losing sleep. And for what? Were you that fucking scared to tell him?

Oh, he’s so going to rip you a new one when he sees you.

But, he’s still not sure if he wants to do that. Afraid of what might happen, he’d rather not blow up on you, but can you blame him if he does?

He just found out he has a secret love child from a woman he knew years ago and know he’s expected to act like everything is normal in this boring fucking meeting?

Not to mention, if his father finds out, he’s not sure what will happen. If anyone else finds out, for that matter. If anything, he needs to get a reign over this messy situation before he’s allowing anyone to know.

“Mr. Gojo? What do you think?”

At the sudden mention of his name, he snaps back into focus. Eyes flickering over to the bald-headed man who currently stands in front of the table of other withering men, the screen projector displaying a multitude of different statistical data. The man falters slightly, his grip tightening on the laser pointer as Gojo’s eyes land on him

Shit. He has no idea what they were even talking about. “About?” He clears his throat, appearing nonchalant, though the tight hold on the ballpoint pen says otherwise, the faint click of it opening and closing the only indication of his simmering irritation

The room feels colder, quieter.

The man clears his throat nervously. “The expansion plan... into the Asia-Pacific region. Whether you think it’s viable in the current climate.”

Gojo leans back in his chair, his posture relaxed, though his pen continues its faint, rhythmic clicks. His expression is unreadable, a faint smile tugging at his lips as he lets the silence stretch a moment too long. “And you need my opinion on this?” he says finally, his tone polite but tinged with condescension.

The bald man shifts on his feet, adjusting his glasses. “W-We... wanted your insight, given your, uh, experience overseeing the European division.”

“Right,” Gojo says, dragging the word out just enough to make the man squirm. He tilts his head, his icy blue eyes narrowing slightly. “Well, if I’d been paying attention, I’d probably say something about how overly cautious you all seem to be. But that’s just a guess.”

The bald man blanches, stammering, “O-Overly cautious? We’ve taken every factor into account—”

“I didn’t say it was a bad thing,” Gojo cuts in smoothly, his voice softening just enough to disarm the growing panic in the man’s voice. “I’m just wondering if maybe all those ���factors’ are holding you back. Are we leaders, or are we playing it safe like everyone else?” His eyes flicker briefly over the rest of the table, daring anyone to challenge him.

The bald man hesitates, then nods quickly, his nervous energy palpable. “Of course. You’re absolutely right, Mr. Gojo. I’ll revisit the projections to—”

“No need,” Gojo interrupts again, flashing a faint, humorless smile. “I trust you’ll figure it out. Unless you think I shouldn’t.”

The man practically trips over his words in an effort to assure him. “No, no, of course not. I’ll make the adjustments immediately.”

“Perfect,” Gojo says, the finality in his tone dismissing the topic entirely. He shifts his attention to the projector screen, the numbers and graphs blurring together as his thoughts drift.

The room eventually moves on, the hum of conversation resuming. But Gojo doesn’t miss the quick glances from across the table, the subtle unease lingering in the air.

He taps the pen against the table, his jaw tightening. It’s taking everything in him not to snap, not to let the weight of the fact that his ex-girlfriend is a filthy fucking person seep through the cracks.

Let them sweat. It’s the only thing keeping him entertained today.

The minute the awful meeting of ifs and hesitant decisions is over, he’s pushing out his chair, being the first one to leave the haunted room. It’s a bad mistake on his end, because his secretary, Aiko, is on his ass. “Mr. Gojo, your father is waiting for you in your office.”

Great, as if things couldn’t get any fucking better. He holds back a remark, gruffing out. “For?”

“He didn’t say, sir. He just wanted me to tell you to see him as soon as the meeting finished.”

He really, really doesn’t want to see his father right now. The two were too alike, constantly butting heads which only ended in a harsh set of insults being tossed around, mingled with occasional threats of “never passing the company down to someone as idiotic as you”. His father is bluffing, of course. He has no other person to pass it down to, with Satoru being the oldest and only son of his father’s. His long legs easily lead him to the doors of his office, to which he hesitates. Taking in a big breath, before opening the doors and closing them soon after. “What is it?” he asks, walking over to sit in his chair, leaning back comfortably.

His father, Yamato Gojo, the current CEO of the Gojo Group, who sits leisurely on the black leather coach stands up to position himself across from his son. Arms crossed and the permanently etched frown on his face. “Why didn’t you come to the dinner yesterday? There were very important people there you needed to meet. I texted and called you.”

Why didn’t he go? Can he really just say “sorry dad, I was stressing about this shithole I’ve found myself in”. No, he can’t. Instead, he shrugs and brushes his father off. “I was already busy.”

“Busy with what? What’s more important than networking?”

“A lot of things, actually.”

Yamato dislikes that answer quite a lot, frown seemingly deepening, regarding his son with another usual disapproving look. “Satoru, this is serious. They were expecting you and you embarrassed me. I won’t let this happen again, when I say you need to be somewhere, you be there. No if, ands, or buts. You’re pissing me off.”

How ironic of him to say that considering he’s having the exact same effect of Satoru. He isn’t scared of his father, hell no. But he does know to pick and choose his battles. And with the way his mind is completely scrambled right now, he forces himself to intake a huge breath of air. “Yeah, yeah. Fine, I’ll be there next time. Happy?”

“Only after you prove it.” Like father, like son. Satoru hates how his father always seems to want to get the last word in. But his father hates how he does the exact same.

Throughout the entirety of his shift, up until he clocks out of work and walks to his designated parking spot which houses his white 2025 Mercedes-Benz SL-Class. Driving back to his high rise penthouse on autopilot, his thoughts zeroed in on one person only. Or well, two people.

Satoru wasn’t ever sure he wanted to be a father. He knew it was expected of him, but so many people had such high expectations of him, it became exhausting. Too exhausting. Does he even have a right to call himself a father to a child he never knew, a child who probably doesn’t even know him?

His right hand reaches for his phone, calling a number without taking his eyes off the road. It answers on the first ring, but Satoru doesn’t give him the chance to respond. “Do you know where she lives?”

There’s a falter, hearing Suguru’s deep breath come out on the other end. “No, I don’t. And nice to hear from you too.”

“I don’t have time for your sarcasm right now.” He stops at a red light, using his left hand to rub the crease between his furrowed brows. “Do you know anything? Her number? Where she works? Where did you see her so I can go over?”

“Satoru, I’m not sure it’s a good idea for you to go meet up with her again. You’re obviously not in the right mind space and I don’t want you two to—“

“I’ll argue with her all I want, I have that goddamn right to.” Satoru grits out, interrupting his friend before he has the chance to spew out more shit he’d rather not listen to right now. “Answer me.”

In Suguru’s mind, he knows if he gives Satoru even the tiniest bit of information regarding your whereabouts, he’ll storm over there and probably say things he doesn’t mean. Satoru tends to think emotionally in very dire situations, a bad habit of his. Still, although he knows his best friend should be angered by this situation, Suguru doesn’t want to involve himself. More than he has. After speaking with you, he’s come to the conclusion that you’ll reach out to Satoru soon. Considering the fact that he already knows. “I don’t know, I saw her at a grocery store, but she was just shopping.”

“Fuck,” Satoru groans, moving his car forward again. “Well how the hell do I—“

He’s cut off by a small vibrate to his phone, a message. When he looks down, the screen is overtaken by a new call coming in from Himari. Honestly, she’s the last person he wants to talk to right now.

“What’s wrong?” Suguru asks, after noticing the small beat of silence from the other end of the phone.

What isn’t wrong? “Gotta go, call you later.”

“Sat—“

Satoru ends the call, picking up the new one. “Hey.”

“Baby,” Himari’s light voice fills his ears, sighing in relief. “Can you come pick me up? I’m at the mall but the tires of my driver’s car popped.”

He’d rather not, but Satoru has found out that it’s been quite difficult to say no to his girlfriend. So, he puts his own internal and external battles to the side, making a right turn and exhaling. “The mall?”

“Yes, baby. Thank you so much.”

He hums back in response. “Be there in ten, wait outside.” Once again, he hangs up and a suffocating silence fills his car. Hands tightening around the wheel, he reels himself in with a big inhale, then exhales. He can’t show these sorts of emotions in front of the woman, for she’ll no doubt question and question about what’s wrong, which will then lead to an argument. He doesn’t need arguments.

As Satoru sees the mall in the distance, he’s overrun by the sudden determination. The determination to find you and meet his son.

“Just one more question, Koji. Then let’s eat dinner, how does that sound?”

The young boy groans in annoyance, the math work of simple addition problems laid out in front of him. He hates math, almost as much as you, excelling in other subjects like English and Art. “But Mama……” he drags the words out in a childish manner.

Plating two plates of tonkatsu chicken with curry, one plate smaller than the other, you turn to your son who now has a pout on his face. You resist the urge to pinch his cheeks. “You can do it, you did the other ones so well.”

Sitting next to him, you look over at his workbook. Just one more problem. It’s a problem consisting of three numbers, 5, 23, and 6. Simple in your eyes, but a disastrous monstrosity in the eyes of a five-year-old. “Mama will help you, okay?”

“Okay, Mama.” Koji grumbles, reluctantly grabbing his red pencil again.

Times like these you cherish. Sure, it’s mundane and not very exciting. But it’s the little things that matter most to you. Helping your kids with homework, helping them learn to ride a bike, tie their laces, it’s all wonderful experiences from your perspective. Proof of the fact that your chubby little baby isn’t very little anymore, growing into his own person. Although, the more he grows, the more he’s starting to resemble his father. It’s scary at times, when he looks at you and you get random flashbacks.

Eating dinner and washing up is another thing you love. After such a hectic day, you just want to unwind with your son. You had put in your PTO for the convenience store a month in advance; after a particularly hard month. Finishing at 5:00pm, like most people do, is a breath of fresh air.

You let Koji tire himself out in the tub, then the living room, to which he has Cars playing (his favorite movie at the time). He plays with his own small set of matching cars, while you sweep the kitchen. Your eyes flicker over to your phone that lays face up on the island, a bubbling sensation forming in your being, one of contemplation. You wonder to yourself, would you call Satoru? You know his number by heart, he most likely hasn’t changed it.

After the breakup, you cut off all contact with him and his friends, even choosing to get a new phone and new number, just to avoid any possibly drives of texting him, or to avoid him texting you. You quite literally wanted to erase every memory about him.

Kinda hard to do that when you’re raising his carbon copy.

After another blind minute, you pause your sweeping and grab your cellular device. You’re about to grab Suguru’s business card from your purse when a sudden question hits you.

How was he able to call you earlier at work if you had never given your number to him in the first place?

Your brows knit together while you come up with any possible solutions and reasoning to that thought, coming up blank. Seriously, how did he call you? Without thinking, you go to your recent calls, pressing the first one, and raising your phone to your ear.

It rings for about a second, before Suguru’s coaxing voice follows. “Hello?”

“How did you get my number?”

“What?”

“How did you get my number? I didn’t give it to you at the store.”

You can practically hear the way he’s trying to formulate an answer. Coming up with a shitty one. “I just…guessed.”

You say nothing, your eyes narrowing on a certain spot on the blank white walls of your kitchen.

Another second passes before he gives in, too easily. “Okay, okay. Look, I don’t want to sound creepy or anything but—“

“Were you stalking me?”

“What?! No! Of course not, Y/N. I’d never do that.”

“Then tell me how you got my number without me telling you.”

He sighs. “…I have a friend. He’s in the law enforcement and I…may have asked around. But before you get any ideas, I was worried. You just fell off the face of the Earth and I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

You can’t stop the huff that leaves you. Should you feel complimented that he went out of his own way to do all this or invaded? Maybe both. Honestly, you did that all for a reason. And he blatantly went behind yours, probably everyone’s, back to get some information on you in a shady way. Isn’t that illegal or something? “Suguru, when people do that, it doesn’t mean they want to be found.”

“I know, Y/N. But I was worried, so was Shoko and Satoru—“

“Does he know my number too?” You ask, already feeling your panic run up your veins, boy straightening into a stiff position.

“No, no, he doesn’t. Just me.” He quickly relieves you.

You guess that’s somewhat better. Although you still feel mildly annoyed at Suguru for what he did. “Is that all you know?” The way he doesn’t respond immediately makes you feel even more frustrated, jaw clenching.

“I….” He lets out a heavy breath. “No, it’s not.”

“What else do you fucking know?”

He winces at your now harsh tone of voice, though he knows it’s all expected. “It wasn’t on purpose, I just wanted your number, I swear. But when you’re looking for that kind of stuff, other things pop up like…address and…yeah.”

If only he could see your expression right now. “You know where I fucking live?”

“Yes, Y/N….”

Okay, now your privacy is very invaded. You have never really gotten angry with Suguru, let alone get into an argument. He always knew when to stop, what not to say to make someone else feel worse, but did he just get fucking dumb after all these years? “…are you serious?” You know he is, not even giving him the chance to answer your rhetorical question. “Fuck you, Suguru. I can’t believe you—you completely—I don’t even know what to tell you right now.”

You can hear the guilt in his voice, tone softening. “Y/N, I’m sorry. I had the best intentions, I was never going to visit you or call you without your specific permission to.”

“Did I give you permission to call me earlier?”

“No, you didn’t.”

“Exactly.” With another scoff, you bite your lip, picking the correct words to voice out. You wouldn’t say you’re a word vomit person, usually. But right now, you just feel…slightly weirded out. All this time, you thought you had solitude. But Suguru knew where you were this entire time? “Goodbye, Suguru.”

“Y/N, wai—“

“Don’t. If I need you, I’ll tell you. But right now I don’t want to speak to you.”

He pauses, feeling his gut tighten. Nonetheless, he nods and mutters. “Okay, I’ll give you space. Just please know I’m sorry and I really didn’t have bad intentions.”

Seems like this is the second time today he’s apologizing to you. You don’t like it. Without another word, you end the call, putting your phone back on the hard surface of the island. Jesus Christ. What the hell is going on, seriously?

One minute you’re stressing about getting evicted, then you have to worry about Satoru somehow running into you, and now you find out Suguru has just casually known your address all these years. Why is all of this deciding to be sprung on you all at once? Out of no where? The world must be punishing you for every unholy deed you’ve done in your life; it really doesn’t seem fair. At all. Can’t things just go right for once in your life? You just want to go at least a day without external stressors fucking you over in every way possible.

Of course, you’re unlucky. That’s just how things have always been for you. The universe has a twisted sense of humor, and you’re the punchline to every cruel joke. The thought of Suguru knowing your address sends a cold, uncomfortable shiver down your spine. What else does he know? What else has he been hiding?

The questions swirl in your mind, each one more suffocating than the last. You sit down heavily on the edge of your worn-out couch, its cushions sagging beneath you as though they, too, are tired of carrying your weight. You bury your face in your hands, the skin of your palms rough against your cheeks, and take a deep, shaky breath.

Satoru (and Suguru). Their names alone bring up a storm of emotions you can barely keep bottled up. You’ve worked so hard to keep them, and everything they represent, in the past. Yet here they are, forcing their way back into your life like unwelcome ghosts.

You glance at the stack of overdue bills on the coffee table, mocking you with their bold red lettering. As if you didn’t already know you were drowning. Maybe it’s time to stop fighting the tide.

You watch Koji focus on the bright screen, moving his toy cars in unison with the movie. Willing yourself to worry about the now, to convince yourself that you’re not done, that there’s still some fight left in you.

However, that seems to be proving harder each and every single day.

It’s a chilly, but sunny winter day. The sidewalk filled with other people going about their day. You’re wearing a black trenchcoat, along with a scarf. Hands stuffed into the pockets of your coat as little puffs of white air leave your mouth, a stark piece of evidence of how cold it is today. The heels of your shoes clacking down the concrete, making your way to the familiar cafe of Latte Lounge.

Saturdays are supposed to be happy days, a final breath of fresh air after the business of the weekdays prior. The day where people enjoy Mother Nature and what she has to offer, a day of sleeping in, a day of no responsibilities.

A woman like you has no Saturdays. It’s like every day is a cold, hard Monday.

You finally spot the cafe, its large, glass windows giving you a sneak peek to the liveliness that resides inside. Of course, most people do choose to go to cafes on Saturdays. Especially this early in the morning. Walking in, the small bell above the door dings. The workers behind the counter greet you; while you give them a half greeting back, your eyes scan the environment. It takes a few seconds, but you see Mr. Ito sitting at a table for two in the corner.

You prepare yourself with a heavy sigh, forcing your feet to maneuver you over to the man who smiles and stands once he sees you approaching. “Ms. Y/N, good morning.”

“Good morning.” You’re a little caught off guard when he takes the empty seat from across from him and pulls it out, a silent move of help. Sitting down, he pushes your chair in then walks back over to his own. He laces his fingers together on top of the table. “Get whatever you’d like, on me, remember?”

“Oh, I’m not very thirsty right now.”

“No, please. It’s my pleasure, especially for meeting with me so early this morning.”

A part of you wants to deny his niceness. But, he did cause you to lose money you could’ve still had to spare if you didn’t have to call in Sana to watch Koji. And well, coffee always makes you feel better. “Just an iced vanilla latte.”

He nods and stands up. “Great, I’ll be back.”

Watching him go up to the counter and order, you look back down at your lap. Koji misbehaving sounds odd, he’s always been an obedient kid. Of course he has his moments, but he understands when to listen and when to goof around. A few minutes later, Mr. Ito sits back down with two cups of coffee, sliding yours over to you. You thank him and sip. Hm, not too bad.

There’s a small silence that flows over you two as you taste your coffees, but you wait for him to speak first. He did schedule this little meeting, after all. He clears his throat. “So, Ms. Y/N, again thank you for meeting with me.”

You nod. “Of course, Mr. Ito. Anything for Koji.”

Mr. Ito smiles, his hand waving you off. “Oh please, call me Haruto.”

Already trying to get on a first name basis. Simply nodding again, you raise an eyebrow for him to continue.

“Anywho, like I said earlier this week, I have concerns about Koji’s behavior. You see, he’s had about six instances where he doesn’t listen to me when I say it’s time for silent reading time. I understand he’s a talkative child, but he usually does not act out like this. Would you happen to have any idea as to why he is behaving this way so suddenly?”

“No, I don’t. Koji listens well, and he hasn’t come to me specifically about getting in trouble.” You respond, lips pursing.

Mr. Ito nods in understanding. “I can assume so, but his behavior has started affecting his peers, as well.”

You sit up straighter in your chair. “In what way?”

“Well,” Mr. Ito tilts his head, seemingly recounting the times Koji has misbehaved. “The students who sit around him have started coming to me, complaining about how Koji doesn’t leave them alone. They feel as if he’s taking away from their learning.”

What? Not to mention that that sounds quite…interesting for other five year olds to say, but no way Koji has been that bad. Maybe it’s your bias as his parent, but this is brand new to you, very brand new. Even when he’s home, Koji always insists on doing his homework before playing or eating dinner. So really, you’re not sure how to react to this surge of new information about your own child. “I really don’t know, Mr. Ito. I mean, Koji is a great boy, he listens very well to me and the other adults in his life. I’m just as shocked as you are right now.”

Mr. Ito leans back in his chair, his lips curving into a faint, knowing smile. “I’m not doubting your parenting skills. Koji’s clearly a bright and energetic boy. Maybe too energetic for some of his classmates to handle.” His tone is light, but there’s an undercurrent there, something you can’t quite place. “It’s possible he’s just seeking attention in ways that might not be obvious at home.”

You nod slowly, though his words don’t sit right with you. Koji doesn’t come across as attention-seeking at all. If anything, he’s a bit reserved until he’s comfortable around someone. “I’ll talk to him tonight and see if I can figure out what’s going on. Maybe there’s more to this than meets the eye.”

“I’m sure you will,” Mr. Ito says, his smile deepening as he leans forward slightly, resting his elbows on the desk. The movement feels deliberate, like he’s closing some invisible gap between the two of you. “You’ve always struck me as a very attentive parent.”

The compliment lands awkwardly, and you find yourself straightening your back again, instinctively pulling away from his lingering gaze. “Thank you, Mr. Ito,” you say curtly, steering the conversation back to its purpose. “I just want to make sure Koji’s doing well and that his behavior isn’t affecting his classmates.”

“Of course,” he says smoothly, not missing a beat. “And I’m here to help however I can. We could even set up regular meetings if you’d like, to make sure we stay on the same page about Koji’s progress.”

“That won’t be necessary,” you say, your polite tone edging into firmness. “But I do appreciate the offer.”

His smile falters for a brief moment, but he quickly recovers, leaning back in his chair as though he hadn’t just been testing the waters. “Understood. Please, don’t hesitate to reach out if you ever need anything. My door is always open.”

You nod, feeling a distinct shift in the atmosphere—one you’re eager to step away from. “Well, are there any other concerns I should know about, Mr. Ito?”

He looks like he wants to say more, but decides against it. “No, Ms. Y/N. None at all, thank you for coming out.”

“Thank you for the coffee, have a nice day.” You reply, wasting no time in standing up, grabbing your drink in one hand and bag in the other. Though, his voice speaking again causes you to stop.

“Ms. Y/N,” Mr. Ito’s voice stops you just as you push your chair back. You glance at him over your shoulder, and there’s a flicker of something unreadable in his gaze. “I really hope I didn’t come across as too forward earlier. I’m just...invested in making sure Koji has everything he needs to thrive.”

You offer a polite smile, settling the strap of your bag on your shoulder. “Of course, Mr. Ito. I appreciate that.”

He smiles, but there’s a pause before he continues. “It’s rare, you know, to see a parent as involved as you are. It’s refreshing.”

The compliment makes you pause, and you clutch your coffee cup a little tighter. “Well, Koji’s my world,” you reply simply, brushing off the remark.

“As he should be.” Mr. Ito leans back in his seat, his fingers lightly tapping the side of his own drink. “But I imagine that must get exhausting sometimes, especially since you seem to handle everything on your own.” His tone is casual, but there’s a softness to it, as if he’s inviting you to confide in him.

You blink, his words catching you off guard. Is he fishing for something? “It’s not always easy,” you admit cautiously, “but that’s just part of being a parent.”

“True,” he says with a small nod, his eyes lingering on you a moment too long. “Still, you shouldn’t hesitate to lean on the people around you when you need to. It’s not a sign of weakness, you know.”

You stiffen slightly, unsure how to interpret his words. They seem innocuous enough, but the way his gaze flickers toward you feels... calculated. “I manage just fine, thank you,” you reply, keeping your tone light but firm.

“Of course,” he says smoothly, raising his hands slightly as if to placate you. “You strike me as someone who handles things with grace. It’s admirable.”

You glance at your watch, eager to end the conversation. “Well, I should get going. I’ll talk to Koji about everything we discussed.”

“Of course.” Mr. Ito stands as you do, his smile as steady as ever. “Thank you again for meeting me. And...if you ever want to talk more, even just about life in general, I’d be happy to listen.”

His words hang in the air for a moment, and you force another polite smile. “Thank you, Mr. Ito. Have a good day.”

“I can walk you to your car, I’m heading out as well.” He quickly suggests.

You shake your head almost instantly, smile feeling more narrow. “No need, thank you.”

“Are you sure?”

“Quite sure.”

“But I—“

“Thank you again, but I really must go.” You cut him off, feeling your patience run thin and the desire to be cordial and polite stretching too much. You nod stiffly and turn around to briskly walk out the cafe. However, just as you do so, you collide into something, or someone.

Your open-lidded coffee fumbles a bit in your hand, quickly steadying it. Though it does manage to stain the white shirt of the person you just bumped into. Just great. You hold back a wince and apologize. “I’m really sorry, I wasn’t—“

Your words leave you, your breath feeling like it’s been stolen straight from your chest. Every hair on your body stands up straight, your heart falling straight to your ass like you’ve just hit the biggest drop on a rollercoaster. You know that feeling when you question if something is real or not, pleading with yourself and every deity watching that it’s not? Well, that’s exactly how you feel right now.

It feels like a spotlight has been shone on you without your consent and you suddenly want to throw up. Because as your eyes have moved up to profusely apologize to the stranger, a bucket of water filled with nostalgia and past memories drowns you.

The bright blue, unmistakable irides stare back down at you. A million memories play on repeat, but one thing’s for certain.

The past has never felt so close, and you suddenly want to erase it all and scream.

a/n: the dreaded reunion is here! thank you for reading and the tremendous support! <3 stay tuned for next chap, sorry if yall thought these two were boring, chapter 3 will be getting more into it

taglist: @celestialforce @theclassbookworm @tbzzluvr @uhenivid @ofkilljoysandslytherins @sadmonke @bunheadusa @shartnart1 @lady-of-blossoms @itsinherited @duooy @ari-sa @dakotali @mew4-ever18 @iv-vee @devils-blackrose @a-girl-with-thoughts

[hel1nn]

Spying? ૮꒰◞ ˕ ◟ ྀི꒱ა

𐔌 . ⋮ satoru gojo x fem reader .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱

𑁍ࠬܓ𓏲 ๋࣭  ࣪ ˖ ɞ : fluff | cursed words | arranged marriage | kissing/making out | ₊˙♡﹗

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ : satoru loved his wife to be honest. At least this marriage didn't end up as one of those loveless marriages. So when his students caught him making out with a woman in his office they asked who is she.

A/N : short n sweet <3 something before i post another chapter of my this series. English isn't my first language sorry if i did any mistakes:)

Even if your marriage with satoru was arranged,but you managed a soft place in his precious heart that had been broke so many times before but no one knew it. And after that satoru held your heart in his hands too. You love him and he loves you. As always today you were making breakfast,a pair of arms wrapped around you,making you giggle you looked behind to find the sleepy satoru burying his face in the back of your neck,placing soft kisses there

"morning 'toru" you say as you boop his nose with yours, then again focused on the breakfast in pan. Satoru whined softly

"why do you have to wake up this early" he pouts,arms tightening around you. Chuckling you shook your head softly "if i won't wake up early i won't be able to make my husband an homemade breakfast,or else he'll end up eating sweets again" you tease. Satoru couldn't help but smile like an idiot. Both of you continued your morning routine as always. Kissing him good bye to work.

-

As always satoru intentionally forgot about his lunch. Here you are now, knocking at his office's door with a bento box in hand. You knew he always intentionally forgets taking his lunch with him sometimes so he could see you at work too,but who were you to complain? You loved seeing him in the middle of the day too. Little did you knew three students followed you here from the jujutsu gate..

────୨ৎ────

Yuji just saw a woman standing Infront of the jujutsu gate,whom he had never seen before. At first he didn't really think too much of it but when he Heard her say "satoru" his eyes shot up. All he could do was tell nobara about it cause megumi was on a mission and nothing more. But then the Idea of following her popped in their mind. So when you were done talking on the phone with satoru you make your way to his office,your were wearing an tank top with normal pants. When you entered his office they start to peek through the door slightly opened door.

...

"satoru your such baby" you giggled softly when he started to whining about he wanted to see you today.

"oh my- she's calling him a baby" yuji mumbles and nobara groaned quietly

"she's definitely the girl he talks with on his phone all the time." Nobara mumbled. Little did they know satorus six eyes already noticed their cursed energy. He didn't said anything since...is there anything wrong with giving them a show? So they slightly freak out when satoru pulls you on his lap, making out with you messily

"wtf we should leave ig-" yuji mumbles Panicked. Nobara nods along but doesn't moves "eww how can she could kiss a manchild like him"

Suddenly someone kicks them at their back, resulting in them bursting in the room. The horror on your face painted as satoru chuckles amusedly. There stood megumi behind them.

"you two got any shame?" Megumi grunts, eyebrows twitching in annoyance. He sighs and looks at you sitting on satorus lap,when you noticed it you get off of his lap. Heat covering up your face. Satoru pouts before standing up

"sneaky aren't y'all"

Yuji whines rubbing his temple as he spoke "but sensei we were curious.."

"and who'r you kissing disgusting man child like him" nobara asks you,a dumbfounded expression on your face before giving her small smile "im his wife.. actually" nobara and yuji sighs. It's obvious from how you two were making out. They look at megumi with a frown

"fushiguro you knew that gojos married right?"

Yuji and nobara shouts at him

"yes" megumi simply says before noticing you stare at him,he just gives you a bow and you pass him a smile as you feel Satorus arm wraps around your shoulder

"nowww can y'all leave so i can have my precious time with my wife" satoru chimes. And the students left with a annoyed sigh except megumi

[simpee9000]

Not Just Friends - 8 -

M.List : Prologue : Part 1 : Part 2 : Part 3 : Part 4 : Part 5 : Part 6 : Part 7 : Words 2.6k

Childhood best friends turned into something more, at least with the label. Katsuki Bakugo, a fast-rising hero and fast-learning guy who is ever so slow in getting attached to and loving someone. Even three long years into a relationship, and your friends even forget you're even dating. Nothing happening, spare a few kisses.. like 3 kisses, during high school. Graduated and living together, and you guys have done absolutely nothing to further the relationship. Are you sure you're not just friends? Also not edited!! CW: Smut, brief domestic violence discussion, virginity loss, aggressive flirting from creeps, gore with pro hero stuff (lmk if i missed any) Applies to all chapters regardless of it is in said chapter.

"It's been two weeks," you pointed out, telling yourself and him.

"That doesn't mean you have to be okay already," Katsuki huffed at you, crossing his arms as he leaned against the makeup table in front of you.

You were going on for the interview that you promised that night. Truth quirk and all. They were prepping you right now for it, covering the dark circles under your eyes as they made sure to add highlights.

"I go back to work tomorrow, I want everything to be dealt with before hand," you dismissed. You wanted your plate clean so you could throw yourself fully back into work, you were itching to use the equipment. "Besides, Aizawa is here. He'll make sure to turn off the truth quirk if needed."

He grumbled, watching you intently as you got up, makeup finished and TV ready. "I don't like this." He didn't want you to go back to step one, even if you claimed to be fine.

"I know," you patted his arm, he's been trying to convince you not to. But his PR manager advise you to do it, knowing if you switched up that the public would think the worst.

An assistant knocked on the door, peeking through when you told them it was okay. "You're on in five," and with that, they left.

You swallowed nervously. "It's not to late," Katsuki offered.

"I said I'd do it, so I will," you looked yourself over in the mirror one last time, brushing your clothes smooth before you walked to the door. Katsuki following behind as you waited behind the curtain, ready for your cue. You made eye contact with Aizawa who was on the other side, next to the interviewer with a truth quirk. You gave a small wave and gained a nod back.

"Remember that you can dodge the question, it's not considered lying," Katsuki informed you for the millionth time, going down his prep list, "I studied them, they make you say the truth but not blurt it, so you have time to form your words."

"And now we have Dynamight's girlfriend," the talk show host called your name, greeting you on stage. "She'll be giving us all the details of her juicy relationship with our number two hero! All under a truth quirk." You walked onto the stage, giving Katsuki a nervous smile before turning to wave at the crowd.

It wasn't your first interview but it was the first major one. A huge live audience that filled the room. You shook hands with Gossip, the hostess nickname for the public. Shaking hands with the truth quirk interviewer as well before sitting down. Aizawa stayed off stage, ready to cancel things if needed.

"Nell, here," Gossip called attention to the truth quirk, "Known as 'Spills' will activate her quirk and ask questions about her secret relationship with Dynamight." Nell waved at her introduction, smiling brightly. "We've opened questions to the audience as well, so let's get started," Gossip grabbed a stack of cards from her desk, nodding to Nell to start.

You crossed your legs, hands clasped in your lap as you waited for the effect.

Gossip handed Nell the cards to read out. "You were the one on the phone with Dynamight two weeks ago, correct?"

"Yes, called me while I was making dinner," you laughed trying to add anything you could to the questions because you wanted good press.

"How long have you been dating?"

"Three years," you answered easily, feeling the small buzz of the truth quirk in your mind, "Since second year of high school, even though I liked him way before that." Well, you haven't meant to say that, the truth quirk making the small bit of information slip out.

Gossip grinned at what you were saying. "And you've never liked Deku? No romantic feelings there?"

"He's like my younger brother, absolutely no feelings there," you confirmed.

"You don't even find him attractive?"

"I do, just not like that. I only have eyes for Katsuki really," you didn't even know why you were anxious at this point. Part of you was worried it'd make you slip up, say something in the wrong way and make it seem like you wanted him.

"How cute!" Gossip gushed to the crowd. "Well now that we have that settled, lets get to the nitty gritty." You paled at that.

Opening your mouth the protest before Nell interrupted you, "What about Dynamight annoys you the most?"

You rolled your eyes, "He leaves his socks everywhere. Literally only his socks, everything else he is a neat freak about."

"Anything else?" they pushed for something more.

"He literally argues with himself while getting ready, calling his teeth stupid for getting dirty," you ranted, glad you had no real issue with him.

Nell and Gossip shared a look, unsure of where to go. "What do you love most about him?" the decided to switch from negatives to positives, trying to feed his fan base.

"Oh," you paused, mind swirling with too many truths, "He remembers all the small things," you settled on, talking fondly, "He bought an extra chair for his office because he knew I hated the ones he had. He might not talk a lot but he does so much."

The crowd swooned at how fondly you talked of him.

"Why are you with him?"

"Cause I love him?" you questioned back confused, paleing when you realized you haven't directly said it yet. You've been together for three years and knew you loved each other, it was just hardly, if ever, spoken.

"How about we open questions to the fans?" Gossip turned from you and pointed at someone who raised their hand.

"What's Dynamight's biggest weakness?" the crowd called out, Nell immediately asking you the question.

You froze, Aizawa was being distracted and couldn't save you. You faintly heard Katsuki's loud foot steps coming up, trying to save you.

"He loves his back being popped," you answered, truthfully, the interviews losing the spark in their eye as you didn't give good enough gossip. "Seriously, he loves it. Practically melts afterwards."

Katsuki stood next to you, grabbing your hand and pulling you to stand. "This shit is done."

"Dynamight," Nell called out as Katsuki dragged you away. The truth quirk likely making him stop. "Do you seriously love her?" She spit those words out in a manner that reminded you of the break in.

"Yeah, so fuck off," he barked over his shoulder, pulling you off stage.

---

In just the drive home, your phone was blowing up entirely. You were trending on Twitter, Tiktok, and any social media already. All they needed was an hour. You scrolled through TikTok as you curled in on the couch, swiping from one video of you to another video of you. People were gushing over your relationship, loving how he protected you and how you talked about him.

It turned the fan girls more on your side, having gotten a glimpse of your life with him. They concluded that you were one of them. You even saw videos of how you cheered him on during the first-year sports festival. They took any social media post with the two of you and over-analyzed it. Talking about how you looked at each other.

"Still looking at that shit?" Katsuki called from the kitchen. Currently packing up the leftovers of dinner.

"It's cute," you defended, "They found a photo of us during graduation," you lifted your phone over the couch for him to look, hearing him shuffle over to look.

It was a photo of you two hugging after the ceremony, probably seconds after he asked you to move in with you. "This is horrible for my image," he complained as he saw the caption, "Makes me look fuckin' soft."

You rolled your eyes, looking up at him from where he leaned over the couch, "You are soft."

He scoffed, "Sure."

Humming, you got up from the couch, moving to head to your room, wanting to grab a book from a box. You hardly unpacked, your room still empty as you've been spending the past few nights in Katsuki's room.

"Hey Kats," you called from your doorway, seeing more boxes in your room than before. Probably and entire third of boxes that you didn't put there, you were at work all day, busy with meetings while Katsuki got home early.

"What?" he asked when he met you in your doorway, looking over your room.

You stepped in, glancing into an open box and seeing Katsuki's stuff filling it. "What's all this?"

"Figured with you sleepin' in my room all the time we might as well share," he crossed his arms as he shrugged, leaning into the doorframe.

"Really?" you looked up at him, taking your eyes of the open box, lighting up inside as you looked at him.

"Why not?"

You've been waiting for this since he first asked you to move, but you knew that if you freaked out he would back out. You bit back a huge smile, joy seeping through your expression regardless. "Want to set things up then?" you offered, answering his unasked question of it was okay.

He didn't give an answer before he moved in the room fully, grabbing a box of his clothes and going into the walk in closet. You stepped out of your room, seeing how his old room was empty minus a bed. Smiling, you moved back into your room, grabbing another box of his clothes and placing it beside him before grabbing your own clothes and finally unpacking. You took two of the walls of the closet, him taking the last wall, having less clothes.

Cycling through each box until they were all unpacked, your room looking like a mixture of the two of you. His comforter but your sheets on the bed, pillows stacked the way you loved and his limited edition All Might alarm clock sitting on the nightstand. The dresser being spilt for the two of you with small touches of each of you adding to the room. Giving it personality.

It made you giddy, to see everything done up as a combined. You let a bright smile grace your features as you changed for bed, Katsuki showering in the connected bathroom while you slid under the covers. You grabbed a book from your nightstand and flipped to the bookmark.

Reading through the rest of the chapter before Katsuki came out of the bathroom, ruffling his hair under a towel as he walked in. Hanging the towel up and shaking his head like a wet dog to fluff it back up. He stayed shirtless, how he's been sleeping the past few nights, and only wore his boxers.

You eyed him over your book, watching his arms flex with any simple motion he made. Eyeing him as he walked to his side of the bed, slipping under the covers fully before wrapping his arms around your waist.

The motion was surprising, filling your stomach with butterflies as you accepted his hug. You were propped up on pillows, making it easier to read with the posture, his arm slipped easily under you, his other going under your book. He squeezed light, wearily of the wound that was still present on your left side.

"Your shower is so much better than the one in the hall," he grumbled, digging his face into your shoulder. His shampoo scenting the air as you leaned your head onto his.

"Our shower," you couldn't help but correct him.

"Do we want the old room to be your office? The other mine?" he questioned.

You closed your book, setting it on the nightstand as you held onto his arm. "Maybe one can be a guest room? Your mom called and said she wants to visit," you suggested.

"That hag been callin' you often?"

You slapped his arm for how he addressed his mom, "She's worried."

"Hm," he dismissed, "I don't care."

"The interview wasn't that bad," you changed topics, "Just made me say softer versions of the truth."

He took his head off you, moving to sit up so he could look at you, "They asked you about my weakness? Do you know how bad that coulda been?"

"But it wasn't, I did what I said and nothing bad happened," you matched his glare.

He rolled his eyes, falling back onto you.

"I surprised how cuddly you are," you said, not to tease but point out.

"Fuck off," he scoffed, moving to flip away from you. You hooked your arms over his shoulders, trying to pull him back but just got flipped back over with him, letting out a squeal of surprised. Situated right on his lap, close to his face. His hands held your thighs as you straddled him unintentionally. "'m not cuddly," he pinched your thigh.

"Sure," you teased now, "That's why you've been all over me."

"I can finally touch you, think I'm not going to take advantage of it?"

You pulled back, sitting up right on his lap as you looked down at him. Brows furrowed, "Is your watch always on?"

He shrugged, "Not always, but most of the time, 'round you."

Your stomach dropped, you moved to grab his hand and saw that it was on. Turning his quirk off. "You can't use it that often," you told him, worried.

"I turn it off before I sleep," he brushed off, moving his hand away from yours.

"When was the last time it was off around me?"

"When I was asleep last night," he answered easily.

"Katsuki," you frowned, "That's not good for you, you need to turn it off." You reached for his hand again.

He snatched it out of your hand, "The fuck's your problem?"

"I don't want every time you touch me you need that stupid watch on," you complained. It made you feel disconnected from him, like he had to hide his true self.

"It's not on all the fuckin' time," he argued.

"Then you should have no problem turning it off right now," you challenged. His face was all scrunched in distaste as he looked at you.

"I don't have shit to prove."

"You're using it as a crutch," you dug, "I shoulda never built it for you."

"So you would of prefered staying how it was? Don't want me to touch you?" he argued, getting frustrated that you were upset. Defaulting into anger.

"I'd prefer you," you clarified, "The actual you that doesn't need to suppress his fucking quirk."

"I don't need anything," he hissed, "I was doing it to make you fuckin' happy but now you're all bitchy about nothing."

You widdened your eyes, pushing yourself off his lap finally and moving to your side of the bed. "You'll kill yourself," you commented, "Not having access to your quirk is deadly."

"No I won't," he huffed, not moving from where he laided.

"You're right, cause you can turn it off," you decided, "I'm not going to touch you until I know it's off."

He sat up right, "Really?" he looked down at you.

"Yep," you popped the 'p', "I only made the watch for work training, not sex training like how you're using it."

"That's ridiculous," he tried to reason.

"Well, I'm going to be 'bitchy' about something that'll kill you," you crossed your arms, standing your ground.

He shifted, "So we're going back to square one? That what you fuckin' want?"

"Sure," your chest felt tight, hating how frustrated he was. But your side made sense. "I want you alive."

"I'm not going to die."

"Yep, cause I'm not encouraging you to turn it off anymore."

"Can't kiss you or anything then," he tried to threaten, failing to change your mind.

"Okay," you shrugged. Internally mourning the loss of it already.

"Seriously?" he was in disbelief.

"Goodnight Katsuki," you turned onto your side, making him unable to look at you anymore.

When he huffed and turned away you were worried he'd leave. Go back on sharing a room. Truly test how far you were willing to go.

But all he did was adjust onto his side of the bed, angrily turning his lamp off, darkness coating the room.

At least you had that, but who knows how long you would. You clutched at your chest as you sunk in on yourself. It would suck to go back to how it was two months ago. Not being able to kiss him, or hug him freely.

You've gotten so far and had to throw it away. But it was necessary. The nitroglycerin made his heart run slowly, he needed to have his quirk flowing or you didn't know what would happen. You weren't trying to risk it so you could feel him up.

---

-Next Part-

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[f1goat]

roommates ; lando norris + part three

In which you have to live with your brothers best friend who you really don't like, Lando Norris, and his many 'girlfriends' for a while, but there's always a thin line between love and hate.

masterlist - playlist

lando norris x fem!verstappen reader tw: nothing much yet expect that Lando is a player + i don't proofread + smut will come next chapters!

You haven’t done anything useful today. After last night, you really don’t know what to do. Should you talk about this with Lando or let it be? You have no idea. At this moment he isn’t home, you heard him leave pretty early this morning. Maybe he’s ignoring you? It feels like he is. There’s this part of you that understands him ignoring you. What would you do if you moaned out Lando his name and he heard? This has to be pretty awkward for him. 

You still can’t decide if you want to talk about it with Lando or not. It annoys you that you can’t think about anything else then Lando. And the worst part? Every time you think about him moaning out your name, you feel yourself getting flustered. That can’t be good. You can’t feel like this while thinking about Lando. It’ll make things only more confusing. 

Since you have met Lando, you think he’s a very confusing person. It’s mainly because he always seems to be in a different mood when he’s around you. Whenever you see Lando, you don’t know in which mood he will be. Sometimes he’s acting nicely, but other times he’s making you crazy with his teasing and rude remarks, and then you still have the moments when he’s flirting with you. It’s confusing. Lando is confusing. 

Thinking like this makes you remember earlier meetings between Lando and you. With nothing better to do, you let yourself think back about things that happened between the two of you. 

——-

“Lando, meet my sister y/n!” Max introduces you to a nice looking boy who’s standing closely to your brother, “and y/n, meet Lando Norris. He drives for McLaren and is one of my friends.” You take your time to look at Lando. It’s almost unfair how beautiful he is. You try to shake off those thoughts, thinking about your boyfriend instead of the good looking boy in front of you. 

Lando is taking his time with looking at you as well. It isn’t the first time he sees you. Or at least, it’s the first time he sees you in real life and will talk to you. He never told his friend, Max, about the way he stalks your Instagram almost every day and how he thinks you’re one of the most beautiful girls he has ever seen. 

He gives you a hand to introduce himself as well, you show him a small smile. The two of you make a bit of small talk. You slowly start to like Lando, he’s nice. You can understand why Max is friends with him, you hope you can become friends with him. It’s your phone which interrupts your conversation with Max and Lando. When you look at the screen, you notice it’s your boyfriend who’s calling. 

“I’m sorry, I have to take this. It’s my boyfriend,” you apologize before picking up the phone and walking away from Lando and Max. 

“Boyfriend?” Lando asks disappointed when he looks at you walking away. That wasn’t on your Instagram. It’s at that moment that Max starts to suspect that Lando already knew who you were and that he’s interested in getting to know you more.

+++

The following time Lando and you talk to each other, things are less nice. He’s spending time with your brother, playing some game on the playstation. You came home a bit ago, it was a harsh afternoon for you. After doubting for multiple weeks, you decided to break things off with your boyfriend. It wasn’t a nice breakup. Things got messy when your now ex-boyfriend started screaming at you. 

You greet Lando and Max, but you’re quickly interrupted by your phone once again. It’s your ex. He has already send you a couple messages and is now calling you. You’re quick to deny the call. 

“Boyfriend again?” Lando asks you jokingly.

You know that he couldn’t know what happened earlier today, but you can’t help yourself and sneer at him. “Ex,” you sneer. Max wants to ask you a thousand questions, but Lando is the first one who speaks up again. 

“Good.”

That didn’t make your mood better.

+++

Lando and you don’t click. Every time you’re in the same room with him, he seems to act all awkward or weird. Sometimes he teases you, other times he seems to shy to say anything. When you walk inside the living room, you notice him and Max looking at you. 

He can’t look away from you. Fuck, Lando thinks he’s going to lose it. You’re dressed in a tight fitting nude dress. It looks stunning on you. He wants to know where you’re going dressed like this, and even better he would want you to stay right here so no-one else will see you like this. Since you’re single, he’s trying to find a way to ask you on a date but he hasn’t succeeded yet. Sometimes he doesn’t know what to say and acts all shy, while other times he can joke around with you for a bit but can’t come to his point. It’s the worst. 

“Where are you going?” Max asks you before Lando finds his tongue back. 

“I’m going on a date,” you tell Max. 

Lando doesn’t even realize that he’s speaking up what he’s thinking. “Already?” He asks confused, “It’s not even a month since you broke up with your boyfriend.” Fuck, when he realizes that he actually said those words he’s quick to feel ashamed of himself. Before he can apologize to you, you’re already replying. 

“Are you implying something Norris?” You ask him angrily.  Lando tries to deny it, but you’re quick to walk away from your brother and him. When they hear the door slam, Max sends his friend an confused look. 

That day Lando can’t stop thinking about you being on a date with someone. He wants to forget about it, but the alcohol doesn’t do anything. Standing in a club with some friends, his mind is still hang up on you. How would you date go? He was so glad about you being single, but it seems that it will be over soon. 

Later that night, with even more alcohol in his system, Lando dances with a nice looking girl. He drinks until he can’t walk straight anymore and takes the girl home with him. Is it bad that he can’t even remember her name? He can think about one thing only. Even when he’s balls deep into the girl, he can only think about you. Or more specifically, you in the tight nude dress. He’s fucked. 

+++

When he tells Max about the girl and the way he send her home after the sex, he didn’t knew you were listening as well. Before Max can respond, you’re picking an argument with Lando about the way he treated the girl. 

The following hours Lando realizes that he has fucked up things too many times around you. He should forget about you. It’s not like he has any chances left. Since that day Lando fell in some weird pattern of getting drunk whenever he could and fucking some random girls as a distraction from his feelings for you. Not that it helps. Whenever he sees you, he always feels ashamed about himself and his actions. Not that you know everything about it, but still. He doesn’t know how to behave around you. Sometimes he tries flirting with you, other times he tries to keep his distance. The worst times are when he argues with you. 

It’s not like you know about his feelings and why he’s acting like this. For you everything is just confusing and weird. 

——-

Mindlessly you’re swiping on Tinder. Since you’re still not doing much, you decided to swipe a bit on the app. You could use a date, it’s been a while since your last one. Not that you will be successful on Tinder, since everyone is accusing you of being a catfish or is sending dick picks within seconds after the match. You really should find another way to find dates. When you hear a soft knock on your door, you feel confused. Could it be that you didn’t notice Lando coming back home? 

You stand up and open the door. Apparently you really did miss Lando getting back. He’s standing in front of you. It takes you back to the dilemma you’re still having. Confront Lando or not about what happened? 

“Do you want to have dinner together?” Lando asks you. He almost seems nervous, but you guess that you’re imagining that. 

“That’s fine,” you tell Lando, now you think about it - you could eat something. You’re getting kinda hungry. “Should I cook?” You continue to ask. 

“No,” Lando quickly replies, “I’m going to cook.”

“Can you?” You ask surprised. You can lie about it, but your socials are often filled with content about Lando. Lately it has even been worse. TikTok has shown you multiple ‘thirst’ edits about him, which made you feel things you don’t even want to think about. And if it isn’t content like that, there’s also the videos of his streams, interviews and video’s. And those are exactly why you don’t think it’s smart for Lando to cook. 

“I don’t know,” Lando confesses with a soft laugh, “but how hard can it be to make a pasta?”

“I can help you if you want?” You offer. 

“That sounds like a safe thing to do,” Lando jokes.

Together you walk to the kitchen with Lando. He proudly shows you everything he has bought from the grocery story. Confused you look at all the stuff. You can’t even guess which pasta you’re about to make. There are so much groceries. He even has multiple sorts of pasta laying on the counter. 

“How many people are eating here?” You ask Lando confused. 

“Just us,” Lando informs you. 

“So, you bough four different pasta shapes, every vegetable that there is and three kinds of grated cheese for just the two of us?” You continue to ask.

“I didn’t know which one you liked,” Lando confesses.

“You could have called?” You laugh. 

Lando doesn’t respond anymore. He makes you chose which pasta you want to make with him. After choosing you ask Lando to chop up some onions. Something he clearly struggles with. you’re trying to hold back your laugh, but when Lando almost cuts in his own finger, you let out a loud laugh. Lando is quick to join you. Together you continue cooking. This time you don’t ask Lando to do anything else. Meaning he’s just looking at you while you’re cooking. Lando can’t stop staring at you. He can’t hold back his feelings when he looks at you finding your own way in his apartment. How nice would it be if you were always here? If this would be your home as well? 

When the two of you are eating together a bit later, Lando is showering you in compliments about the pasta. Eventually he even lets out a soft moan while taking a bite of the food. It reminds you of last night. Only thinking about the way Lando moaned your name, makes you feel all kind of things. Fuck. That can’t be good. Lando also thinks about last night, he still feels ashamed about what happened. He wants to apologize for what happened, but he can’t find the right words.

“So, are you already getting used to the apartment?” Lando asks you eventually. It’s not the subject he wanted to speak up about, but maybe he can talk about this first with you? It would be nice to have a normal conversation with you. 

“Kinda,” you answer honestly, “It doesn’t feel like home, but it’s not bad.” Lando nods understandingly in the mean time. “A good night sleep will probably be nice as well,” you add jokingly. 

“Yeah, about that,” Lando starts unsure, “I’m sorry about the last two nights.”

“It’s still your home Lando,” you tell him, “It’s already nice of you that I can stay here, you don’t have to change everything for me.”

“Still,” Lando sighs, “I’ll try to better it, okay?”

“That sounds nice,” you softly say. 

Lando shows you a small smile. “And I want you to feel more at home here,” he continues to tell you, “Does it already feels a bit like home for you?” 

“Not yet,” you confess, “I miss the way my own room looks and the decor stuff and things.”

“You know you can decorate it here as well, right? I really don’t mind if you change some things around the place,” Lando tells you.

“You wouldn’t mind?” You ask surprised.

“No babygirl,” Lando is quick to reply, “I wouldn’t even care if you painted the whole living room pink if that would make you feel more at home.”

At that moment you didn’t really think about what Lando said, but later his words would repeat themselves in your head. Does he really care that much about you feeling at home here?

+++

“Lando?” 

He doesn’t hear you. There isn’t any response coming from the other side of the door. You don’t know what is happening in Lando his room. You only know that he’s alone and that you heard him scream. What’s going on? You knock loudly on his door, but there’s still no response. When you call out his name again, it doesn’t change. You do however hear him yell again. It’s loud and almost feels painful. 

You decide to open the door and to get inside. What if Lando is hurt? When you open the door, Lando is laying in his bed. He doesn’t move up. It seems like he’s asleep. His breathing is loud and fast, maybe even too fast? You wonder if he’s having a nightmare, that would explain the screaming from before. 

Slowly you move yourself closer to Lando his bed. Should you awake him? When you hear him softly whimpering, you decide to awake Lando. You walk until you’re next to his bed, softly you grab his shoulders and start to shake him.

“Lando,” you say a couple times.

Then he’s finally awake. 

“Y/N?”

Lando gives you a confused look. He has no idea what’s going on. Why are you standing in front of him? How did you even get her? Minutes before you were yelling to him, right? The realization hits him that none of that really happened. He just had a bad dream. Maybe you heard him and came to check? 

“Hey,” you softly say, “are you okay?”

“I guess,” Lando mutters, “Did I keep you awake again?” 

“It’s no problem,” you quickly reply, “it sounded like you had a bad dream.”

“Kinda,” Lando confesses. He thinks back about his dream. Even his bad dreams are about you. That’s pathetic. You were screaming and yelling at him, he tries to remember why. Then he remembers the context of his dream. What started like a nice dream in which he was dating you, ended with him disappointing you and having a fight with you. 

“Want to talk about it?” You ask Lando.

“It’s not like you care,” Lando replies without thinking about his words. When he looks at you and notices the hurt expression on your face, he can slap himself out of frustration. Why does he always do this? “Fuck. I didn’t mean it like that,” he quickly apologizes, “Sorry babygirl.”

You try to ignore his earlier words. “Maybe we can watch something together? Take your mind of the nightmare,” you suggest. 

Lando feels himself getting excited. “That sounds great,” he tells you happily, “Do you want to go to the living room or?”

“Or?”

“I have a tv here as well,” Lando tells you while pointing at the television on the wall behind you. “So we can also watch here in my bed,” he explains. 

“What do you want?” You ask Lando. The idea of getting in the same bed with him scares you, but also seems nice. Lando is rather quickly with his answer. He moves himself more to the side of his bed and makes room for you. Without any words you get yourself on his bed. 

Together you search a video on YouTube to watch. You try to get comfortable in Lando his bed, but you can’t seem to find your comfort. Lando watches you. He tries to figure out a way to get you in his arms, but he doesn’t know what to say. Maybe he’s still distracted by the thought that you came here to figure out if he was okay. That must mean something right? Not something big, but at least you don’t hate him? 

“Come here princess,” Lando eventually says with a soft voice. He lifts his arm up. Hopefully you understand what he means. You doubt for a few seconds, but the need for a comfortable spot is high and Lando looks pretty comfortable. So you move yourself closer towards Lando and search for a position in his arms. When your head is laying on his chest, Lando drapes his arm around your body. Softly he plays with your hair.

“Thank you for coming here to check on me,” Lando tells you. You show him a small smile, “Of course Lan.”

“Lan?” He asks you confused. Since when do you have a nickname for him? 

“Is it bad?”

“No,” Lando quickly says, “please keep calling me that.”

The two of you focus on the YouTube video again. When it’s over Lando wants to ask you what you want to see next, but when he looks at you he discovers that you’re already sleeping. There’s a smile growing on his face. Fuck, you look cute like this. And even better, you’re in his arms. Lando puts the television off. Then he’s quick to join you and falls asleep. He wonders what tomorrow will bring, but after today he finally has the idea that he grow a bit closer towards you. Now he needs to make sure he doesn’t fuck it up again. 

part four

a/n ; bit of a background story, next chapters will have more tension :)

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[mrsshabana]

𝐍𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐨𝐨 𝐋𝐚𝐭𝐞

ꔫ‧₊ Content Gyutaro x female!reader, age difference, angst, fluff, daddy issues, mommy issues, modern au ꔫ‧₊ Note 5k words. I want to thank everyone who was so excited for this fic, your kind words really encouraged me to write so much! I hope you enjoy it and keep an eye out for chapter two ♡ ✧:･ﾟ→ Part two ✧:･ﾟ→ Part three

This is the most exciting thing that’s happened in Gyutaro’s pathetic life since his sister was accepted into college. 

His life is nothing special really, and it never has been. Always taking care of his little sister was his number one priority so his needs and wants were always put on the back burner. Not like he had much of a choice anyway. With a face like that, how are you supposed to get anywhere in life? He’s thirty-five and has never had a romantic partner, but no surprise there. His personality is unpleasant and he doesn’t have much going for him. His job is alright and he can afford to support himself and his sister but that’s about it. 

By now he’s come to accept the fact that some things just aren’t in the cards for him. Things like a wife and maybe even kids. As he got older he found himself longing for these things more and more. Especially when he witnessed all of his friends getting married and starting families of their own. But now at his age, no woman would want to get with him, let alone start a family.

At first, he was mad at the world and everyone in it. It wasn’t fair that he was denied love just because he had a few spots on his face, crooked teeth, and was a bit rough around the edges. The jealousy and anger ate at him for many years, causing his personality to become bitter and cold. On the outside, he seems like the kind of guy who wouldn’t care about love, but it couldn’t be further from the truth. Since he grew up without receiving any love from his mother, it was always something that he craved, even as an adult.

But he grew up, and he had no choice but to realize this was his reality and there was no changing it. It was hard to accept, but he’s finally come to peace with it. At least he has Ume, and honestly, he’s grateful for that. 

But now, you came into his life and things are beginning to take an interesting turn. 

You’re Ume’s friend from college, she’s a year older than you but you got to know her well in one of your math classes. Ume hates math so she waited until her senior year to take it, which she is starting to regret now. The only upside to the situation is that she met you.

Having gotten pretty close to Ume over the course of the semester, she would often invite you over to her place. You’ve heard her talk about her brother before but you had never met him since he was usually at work when you came over. But when you saw him for the first time, he wasn’t what you had expected. He looked a lot different than the image you had in your mind and he was a lot less friendly than Ume had described him. But even though most of the time he was in a bad mood, he’d be polite to you for the brief moments he was around. 

The first thing you noticed about him was how tall he was and how deep and raspy his voice sounded. It was oddly attractive, especially when paired with his messy black hair. You knew he was older than Ume but he didn’t look that old. The only thing that maybe signified his age were the dark circles around his eyes, probably from being overworked. 

Gyutaro never expected to get close to his little sister’s best friend. It’s something he never would have considered, but your actions are causing him to rethink his stance on your almost nonexistent relationship.

.˚₊┈୨♡୧┈₊˚.

One night you’re studying over at Ume’s place again. The two of you sit in the dining room, with notebooks, pens, and textbooks spread across the table. Midterms are coming up so you’re trying really hard to get some studying done. Even though Ume keeps getting distracted and scrolling through TikTok.

You’ve almost lost your sanity with this study session when you hear the front door unlocking. 

Gyutaro, looking as tired as usual, walks into the house. Kicking off his shoes and throwing his bag on the floor. He barely even acknowledges you as he walks past saying, “Girls, can you please clean the table.”

“Mm hm,” Ume hums as she continues looking at her phone screen. 

He knows she isn’t going to do as he asks, but he always asks anyway. Today has been a long day and Gyutaro just wishes he could go to sleep but he knows he has a household to take care of. So he hurriedly rushes over to the bathroom and takes a quick shower. Coming out with messy damp hair and a towel wrapped around his waist. He goes straight to his bedroom, but you manage to catch a glimpse of him through the hall. 

The way his long hair sticks to his muscled shoulders and back distracts you. And even after he’s gone from your sight, the heavenly image is still stuck in your mind. 

“Will I ever get a break?” he thinks to himself as he puts on a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt, “As soon as I’m done cooking I’m passing out.” It’s only 8 pm but after another overtime shift, he’s pooped. Ume’s lucky he loves her so much, or else he would just make her eat a Lean Cuisine for dinner.

He doesn’t even bother to brush his hair and just heads straight towards the kitchen. But on his way, he’s met with something that surprises him. 

“You actually cleaned the table?” he says in shock.

“No, she did,” Ume points to you without even looking up from her phone. 

Gyutaro scowls and hits Ume in the back of the head with a rolled-up newspaper, “What’s the matter with you? It’s rude to make your guest clean!”

“Hey!! Cut it out!! I didn’t tell her to, she did it on her own!” Ume whines.

“Still, you should have cleaned it yourself,” he grumbles and throws the newspaper to the side, “Y/N, I’m sorry. Please stay for dinner, that’s the least I could offer you for helping my sister since she’s too lazy to do anything on her own.”

“No no, it’s ok! I don’t want to put more work on your plate -”

“I insist,” he smiles and begins preparing the ingredients. 

Ume pays no attention to the matter, as you admire her brother while he works away in the kitchen. Grabbing a beer from the fridge, he takes a sip and sighs before he begins washing some vegetables. 

You sit there and stare at his muscles, admiring the way they move along with noticing the tattoo on his upper arm. The way his hair falls in his face, and he tries to push it away with his wrist while his hands hold ingredients. 

This is something you’ve never had before. A man who takes care of you. It’s something new for you, and quite frankly you’re a bit jealous of Ume. It must be nice to have someone who takes care of her like Gyutaro does. Especially since your father was never around, it feels comforting being in this kind of atmosphere with Gyutaro and his sister. 

The loud clattering of metal hitting the floor snaps you out of the trance you were in. It seems that Gyutaro dropped a knife because he had almost fallen asleep. You can see his eyes closing slowly as he shakes his head in an attempt to wake himself up. Even though you barely know him, the sight makes you feel bad for him. He must be so exhausted, yet he’s determined to make dinner for his little sister. 

“Hey, do you need any help?” you ask as you walk into the kitchen. 

“N-no, thank you though.” He tries to brush you off and continue cooking but you stop him, grabbing his wrist and taking the utensils out of his hand. “It’s ok really, you seem exhausted. Plus I like cooking so it’s no biggie!” You smile and try to lead him away from the kitchen.

“What? No! You’re our guest it’d be rud-”

“Onii-chan just let her do it! She’s offering, stop being so stubborn!” Ume chimes in.

“Don’t worry, I don’t think you’re a bad host. You’ve been nothing but welcoming to me, I just want to help out,” you lead him over to the couch and force him to sit down, “Everyone deserves a break once in a while.”

“But I-” his sentence trails off as he watches you walk away, not giving him any say in the matter. He feels incredibly guilty for letting you cook. But his body is too tired to fight it, and you no longer hear any complaints from him.

Looking around the kitchen you scan what Gyutaro had set up. There’s a pot of boiling water on the stove, a pan with oil in it, some half-cut tomatoes, a box of pasta, and an unopened package of meat. You can only assume that he was trying to make spaghetti. Luckily for you, it’s easy enough and something you’ve made countless times before. 

After about 30 minutes you have all of the food prepared. You make a plate for yourself, Ume, and Gyutaro. 

“Thanks, Y/N!” Ume exclaims as she finally puts down her phone and takes her plate. 

Next, you walk over to Gyutaro to give him his food, but he’s already passed out on the couch. The bottle of beer still in his hand, half full. 

“Poor thing,” you whisper to yourself, “Guess it’ll just be Ume and I for now.” You take the plate to the table and eat with Ume, opting that it’s probably best to let Gyutaro sleep. 

.˚₊┈୨♡୧┈₊˚.

His stomach rumbles and his eyes are heavy as he slowly opens them, looking around at his surroundings. Confused for a moment as he forgot where he was. The living room is dark and quiet and he can’t quite remember why or how he fell asleep here. 

But then he looks over at the coffee table and remembers everything. His bottle is placed aptly beside a plate full of delicious looking pasta. Neatly wrapped in plastic wrap with a note reading, Enjoy! :)

“No way,” he mumbles as he tears off the plastic and begins to dig in. His eyes roll to the back of his head when the delicious food hits his tongue. Things taste so much better when someone else makes them. And honestly, he can’t recall how many years it’s been since someone has cooked him a meal. Five? Possibly ten? Either way, he savors the moment.

.˚₊┈୨♡୧┈₊˚.

That meal has been on Gyutaro’s mind for days now. Never forgetting the taste and the gratifying feeling of eating a meal that was carefully prepared by someone else. It was amazing. And you’ve been on his mind ever since that night.

He told Ume to thank you since he didn’t have your number, and he really hopes she actually did it and didn’t just blow him off like she usually does.

As he drives home from work he can’t help but think of how nice it would be to come home to one of your home-cooked meals. It’s become a fantasy of his to imagine this on his drives home after a long shift. The thought brings him some comfort even though he knows it will never become a reality.

And just as he was driving through downtown he saw someone familiar. It was you, standing beneath one of the street lights as a strange man loomed over you. He appeared to be talking to you, but your body language looked as if you were very uncomfortable with the situation. 

The strange man appeared to be around Gyutaro’s age and all he could think was, “C’mon man, you’re too old to be doing this shit to a young girl. You should know better.” He rolls his eyes and pulls over next to the sidewalk. 

With a deep, tired sigh, he gets out of the car and yells, “Hey Y/N! I’ve been looking everywhere for you!” 

At first, the sudden voice calling out to you startles you, but as soon as you see that it’s Ume’s brother you feel like you’ve been saved. The strange man looks over at Gyutaro too, giving him a confused look.

“We’re gonna be late for that movie,” Gyutaro smiles as if everything is normal and walks up to you, “Oh, who’s this? Do I know this guy?”

“Uh n-no, I don’t think you know him,” you say nervously. 

Gyutaro nods and takes your hand, “Sorry man, but we gotta go. We’re gonna miss the premier if we don’t get going now.” 

The stranger seems convinced and walks off as Gyutaro leads you back to his car. Opening the door for you, as he watches the man walk away. Making sure he’s gone for good. 

You don’t hesitate to get into his car, a huge wave of relief washing over you once you’re safely inside. 

As soon as Gyutaro gets into the car he scolds you, “What the hell were you doing out here by yourself?” His eyes scan your form, and he notices you’re wearing a short dress.

“I was out with some friends,” you say shyly, “and I wanted to go home, but everyone else wanted to stay out…” 

He sighs and starts the car, “You can’t walk around like that, creepy guys are gonna flock towards you. It’s dangerous.”

“I know, I was so stupid for doing that… B-but thank you so much for helping me, Gyutaro! You really saved me there,” you feel tears well up in your eyes as you imagine what might have happened to you if Gyutaro never showed up. 

“Hey hey, it’s alright,” his expression softens, “You’re ok now, that’s all that matters. And from now on if you need a ride just call me, ok?”

“R-really? I don’t want to inconvenience you or anything…”

“Don’t worry about it, you’re Ume’s friend. I’d do it for Ume so I’d do it for you too. Besides, I work around here so it’s no big deal,” he smiles and hands you his phone so you can put your number in.

“Thanks. Ume’s really lucky to have a big brother like you,” you say as you finish creating your contact in his phone.

“I try my best I guess, heh if only Ume heard you say that. Anyway, where do you live?”

“Oh, right! It’s super close to here,” you type the directions into his phone navigation, “I really owe you for this, Gyutaro! What can I do to make it up to you?”

“Wh-what? No no no, you don’t have to do anything,” he gets a bit flustered as he begins driving towards your place. 

“Come on! You did so much for me, it’s the least I could do! Ooh, how about I cook something for you?” You raise your eyebrows and smile, trying to convince him. 

When he hears your plea, it’s like his prayers were answered. 

“... well, I can’t say no to that.”

.˚₊┈୨♡୧┈₊˚.

The long-awaited day has finally come. The day that you will bring over some home-cooked meals to Gyutaro’s house. He’s been anticipating this ever since you promised it to him.

You come over holding tons of containers of food, much more than he had expected. 

“Woah, let me help you,” he says as he holds the front door open and takes one of the bags out of your hand.

“Ah, thanks. I didn’t realize how much food I made until I had to pack it all up,” you laugh and walk into his home. Placing the food on the table, you neatly snack boxes of prepared meals. 

“What’s all this?” he asks, a bit confused. He was expecting you to bring over a big container full of food, not a bunch of small ones. 

“I know you work a lot and stuff. So, I thought it’d be better if I packed everything up into individual meals so you can just grab them and take them to work. Less prep work for you. I hope that’s alright…”

Gyutaro is truly left speechless, unable to believe that you not only put so much effort into this but also so much consideration as well. Still in disbelief, he takes one of the neatly packed boxes and opens it up. Inside he’s met with a delicious meal separated neatly, and even a small dessert tucked into the side. The sight is beautiful, but the smell is what really makes him salivate. 

“Wow,” he smiles, “I-I don’t know what to say. This is amazing, thank you.” 

He begins to choke up. After so many years of taking care of his sister, always worrying about her needs, caring for her, stepping up and being that guardian that she needed, never once did someone stop to ask him what he wanted. Let alone go out of their way to take care of him. And for once, just once, he gets a taste of what it feels like to be cared for. Nurtured. And it’s a feeling he wishes he never had to let go of.

All of the emotions he’s kept in for so long finally pour out of him. Your kindness and consideration force his walls to crumble. And his eyes begin to water as he pinches the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes in an attempt to stop his tears. 

“Hey, are you alright?” You ask as you immediately notice that something isn’t right.

It takes him a moment to compose himself, “I-I’m ok,” he rasps, “Just… I really appreciate you doing this. It’s been so long since someone has done something for me…”

“Well, you deserve it,” you smile and try to comfort him by rubbing his back, “I can tell you work really hard. My mom is the same way. So I understand.”

“Thanks,” he smiles and quickly composes himself, “A-Anyway, I’m going to try one right now. It smells great.” He quickly tries to change the subject partially because he’s embarrassed, but also because he genuinely cannot wait to taste your cooking again.

The food still feels warm so he rushes into the kitchen to grab a fork, and he sits at the table and digs in. Immediately as the food hits his tongue he lets out a groan of satisfaction. 

“Mmph, ooh my god,” he says right before he shoves another spoonful into his mouth, “so good!”

“I’m glad you like it,” you smile and sit beside him at the table, “These recipes are super easy and budget-friendly, so I can give them to you if you want.”

“Please! Mmph, that’d be great,” he swallows another big bite, “Where’d you learn to cook so well?”

“I just learned over time. It’s always just been my mom and I, my dad was never around,” you sigh, “So I kinda had to learn how to take care of myself since my mom always had two jobs. I would always make food for us to ease her workload. And I’ve always enjoyed cooking so I never minded.”

“Wait, for real?” he looks surprised, “My mom was never around! Man, it fucking sucks doesn’t it?”

“So you understand how I feel!” you smile despite talking about something upsetting, “So, your dad was the one that raised you?”

“Basically,” he nods as he licks his fork clean, “My mom wouldn’t let my dad come around much, even though she wasn’t around much herself. I was pretty much on my own till my mom  died and my dad took us in.”

Watching him talk about his past, you get the impression that it’s something he doesn’t often talk about. His body language alone is enough to tell you that. But the two of you feel some type of connection having shared a similar childhood experience.

“Your dad sounds like a good man,” you smile, “I think he’d be very proud of you.”

He looks up at you, his eyes shining with a mixture of sadness and appreciation. “Thanks… he really was the best. But sometimes I just wish I could have had a normal family.”

“Yeah I totally get it,” you sigh, “That’s why I always told myself I’d try to give my future kid the best life I can.  I want to give them the childhood I never had…” You trail off, thinking about the future you hope will become a reality one day. 

“Exactly!” he shouts, “That’s exactly what I told myself too! I always wanted a family so I could do things right.”

He seems excited at first but his expression quickly shifts to one of sadness. 

“But it’s too late for me to have a family,” he continues, looking down as he opens up about one of his biggest failures, “Oh well, if Ume ever has kids I’ll just try to be the best uncle I can.”

“Why would you say it’s too late?” you tilt your head to the side, confused.”

“Y/N, I’m thirty-five years old. I’m too old to start a family… Besides most women my age are done having kids. Not that any woman would want to be with me anyways.” He frowns, being reminded of how he failed to fulfill one of the only dreams he’s ever had. 

“Why not just start a family with a young girl, like me?” You ask without completely realizing what you’re saying. 

“Wh-what?” his eyes widen, completely taken aback by your statement. Could you be insinuating what he thinks you’re insinuating? He’s not sure whether you’re just naive or completely delusional. 

“W-Well um,” you blush as you begin to realize what you’ve said, “I think you’re a really great guy. Any woman would be lucky to-”

“Get out,” he cuts you off. 

“I’m sorry-”

“GET OUT!” He raises his voice, striking fear into you to the point where you feel your eyes begin to water. 

You feel utterly embarrassed and ashamed. Just when you were starting to get close to him too, you had to say something stupid to ruin it all. Honestly, you have no idea what you were thinking. You will admit you did have a crush on him, so maybe your heart just got excited and took a risky leap of faith. But unfortunately for you, it backfired. 

Without another word you rush out of his house as fast as you can, balling your eyes out. 

.˚₊┈୨♡୧┈₊˚. 

It’s been a few days, and Gyutaro has been ignoring your texts. They stopped coming after that first day, and even though he didn’t respond he still read them. Reading your apologies over and over. He couldn’t get the situation out of his head no matter how hard he tried. So he decided maybe he needed an outside opinion. 

He finds himself sitting at a bar, drinking a beer. Rubbing his rough hand across the stubble that’s grown on his face as he’s been too stressed lately to bother shaving. Honestly, he looks pretty rough. He’s caught up in his self-sabotaging thoughts when he hears a familiar voice call out to him.

“Gyutaro! How’ve you been, man?”

He turns around with a smile on his face, “Hey Kai, what’s up?” He stands and gives his best friend a side hug. 

“Gyutarooooo, do I get a hug too?” an annoying voice chimes, a voice that instantly gives Gyutaro a headache. This voice could only belong to one person. 

“I hope you don’t mind that I invited him too,” Kaigaku laughs nervously.

“Douma…” Gyutaro deadpans.

“What? Aren’t you happy to see me?” Douma smiles wide, giving Gyutaro a one-sided hug. “So, spill the details! Kai said you had some juicy gossip to talk about!” He says as he sits beside him at the bar, placing his hand under his chin and batting his long eyelashes. 

Kaigaku takes a seat on the other side of Gyutaro and mumbles, “Maybe this was a mistake.”

“It’s fine,” Gyutaro sighs and takes a drink from his bottle, “I really just wanted some advice. Just promise you won’t make it weird.”

“When do I ever make things weird?” Douma asks. 

Gyutaro just stares at him, thinking of all of the times he has indeed made things weird. 

“Come on man, just spit it out already!” Kaigaku nudges his shoulder. 

Gyutaro groans and slumps over in his seat, “Alright alright. So, there’s this girl-”

“A girl?!” Both of his friends say in unison. 

“Shut up!” Gyutaro growls, knowing exactly why his friends are so shocked. Because out of all of the years they’ve known him, he’s never once brought up a girl. 

“Anyway,” he continues, “There’s a girl I kind of like… she’s really sweet and we have a lot in common but…” he trails off, hesitant to tell them the truth, “She’s only twenty-one…”

Kaigaku chokes on his drink.

“I don’t see an issue,” Douma says, genuinely confused.

“Of course, you don’t,” Gyutaro mumbles under his breath. 

“How the hell did you get into this situation?” Kaigaku coughs.

“It wasn’t on purpose! I didn’t pursue her at all!” Gyutaro scowls, “Listen, she’s one of Ume’s friends. She comes over a lot and she’s been really nice to me. She even cooked a bunch of meals for me too…”

“And? Spill it, Shabana!” Douma pouts, getting impatient. 

“AND, we were talking about what we want for our future. I told her I wanted a family one day but I’m too old… and she said why don’t I have a family with a young girl like her. I immediately told her to leave. I’m starting to think maybe I overreacted…”

“Well, girls that age are very fertile!” Douma chimes as if his statement was completely innocent.

“STOP!” Gyutaro shouts, “That’s fucking weird, man! Don’t say it like that!” 

“Maybe I shouldn’t have invited him…” Kaigaku mumbles. 

“Hey, it’s true! I am a gynecologist after all, it’s just medical facts! And she’s right, having children with someone your age will be much more difficult and there could be complications!” Douma asserts confidently.

“The fact that you’re a gynecologist disturbs me,” Kaigaku says. 

“Me too,” Gyutaro adds. 

“Come on guys! It’s not as weird as you think. Why would it be so wrong to date her?”

“For starters, she’s fourteen fucking years younger than me! That’d be creepy right…? I don’t want people thinking I’m a weirdo or a creep,” he frowns, starting to feel like maybe he is a creep for even considering something with you. 

Kaigaku takes a sip of his drink, thinking long and hard about what advice he should give his friend. Especially since Douma is useless. 

“I mean, it’s not that bad,” he shrugs, “At the end of the day you’re both consenting adults. And since when did you care about what other people think of you anyway?”

“You have a point,” Gyutaro replies, “But she should live her life instead of wasting her time with an old guy like me.”

“First of all you aren’t even that old,” Kai rolls his eyes, “And second of all, she’s an adult who is fully capable of making her own decisions. If she wants to be with you, then she wants it for a reason. Maybe she wants a guy who is at a more stable point in his life. Who knows?”

“Exactly, Kai’s right. I see age gaps much larger than this all the time, it’s more common than you think,” Douma adds. 

“And besides, it would only be creepy if you were talking to her when she was a minor,” Kaigaku states, “Like if you’re an adult talking to a minor, then wait till they’re an adult to pursue them romantically it’s a little creepy if you ask me. But you didn’t even know her at all until now. So don’t worry man. You aren’t creepy or weird for liking this girl.”

Gyutaro feels a wave of relief wash over him as he listens to his friend’s explanation. It's the first thing he’s heard that actually made him feel a bit better about the situation. “So, you really think it’s ok for me to pursue her?”

“Hell yeah! Be happy, man. I know you’re not the kind of guy to go after a girl just because she’s young. She sounds like a really nice girl, and I’m happy someone finally sees what a great guy you are.”

“Thanks, Kai,” Gyutaro smiles, “Alright, I guess I’ll go for it.”

Gyutaro feels a newfound confidence overtake him. His friends are right, he shouldn’t be so caught up in the details when the fact of the matter is that a really amazing woman is interested in him for the first time in his life. And he cannot let this opportunity slide, as it may be the last chance he has at happiness. 

“Who knows, maybe she’s one of my patients!” Douma chimes in out of nowhere.

“Shut up, Douma! God, I can’t take you anywhere!” Kai growls. 

.˚₊┈୨♡୧┈₊˚.

That night you receive a text from Gyutaro, “Do you want to go to the botanical gardens with me this weekend?”

When you first read the text you had to pinch yourself in case you were dreaming. Why would he say that all of a sudden? Did he suddenly have a change of heart? Or maybe he’s inviting you out just so he can tell you off in person. 

You aren’t sure which one, but you’ve been so stressed over this situation that you’ll do anything to make up with him. So you hastily respond, “Yes! I’d love to :)”

Immediately you regret how eager you sound in the text, thinking that it might make Gyutaro think you're even more childish. But in reality it makes him smile knowing that someone is excited to see him for once.

“Ok. I’ll send you the details,” he responds a minute later.

Is this a date? That’s the only question that keeps replaying in your mind. A date with Gyutaro, your best friend’s older brother. The whole thing feels taboo, but you’d be lying if you said that it didn’t make you feel even more excited.

Taglist: @gyusimp @mistyychann @cherrysxuya @angelicsaiko @hoshigafuru @matsukaah @merryclaus @whisperhug97 @dawn-rays-dingo

(I tagged people who showed interest in my previous posts. If you'd like to be added or removed from the taglist just let me know. The next chapter will have smut so if you want to be tagged make sure you have your age listed on your blog ♡)

[the-witty-pen-name]

The Love Triangle from Hell (4)

Steve Harrington x F!Reader / Eddie Munson x F!Reader

Synopsis: Following the events of PART THREE, things begin to heat up.

Word Count: 3.5k

Warnings: SMUT (18+ MINORS DNI), piv sex, oral (f receiving), dirty talk/nicknames, kissing, messy messy feelings; unrequited love; cursing; arguments; crying; hurt/comfort; angsty angst; allusions to violence; miscommunication; jealousy

Series Masterlist

A/N: I continue to be overwhelmed by the love you all have given this series. I appreciate you all so much. Everyone who have commented, reblogged and followed- thank you so much. I love reading everything and I have had so much fun seeing everyone's reactions. It fills me with so much joy. Let me know what you think of this next chapter!

Please vote for Eddie or Steve in the poll at the end while it is live! The results will be how I end this series <3 BUT, if you want me to do an alternative ending as like a bonus chapter let me know cause I'd love to do that too.

His knuckles were white from his grip on the steering wheel, Steve felt like he lost control of his actions as he resolved to follow Eddie’s van. Eddie had said you wanted space, but now he’s here picking you up from the game? What the actual fuck. He’s fuming, the longer the night goes on. He should’ve just gone home, probably. But he was so angry at himself for taking forever, he couldn’t wait another second. He’d finally had the epiphany. He loves you. He wants you so badly, he can’t find it in him to care if he ruins everything. 

Earlier that day, it had hit him all at once. That overwhelming, all encompassing realization that stopped him dead in his tracks. Robin had left for the day, and he was stuck behind the counter rewinding returned tapes. He’d been sitting with his own thoughts. He was thinking about that dream, and then he was also just thinking about you. You took up all his senses- all he could think about was you. He looked back on shared moments with you in a different light. So many moments between the two of you that would’ve been your start. How could he have not seen it, seen you, all this time? 

Oh. 

Oh. 

He’d bailed on the rest of his shift at Family Video, fuck it. Keith wouldn’t fire him anyways. He knew Robin mentioned the game- of course you’d be there. He’d realized he loved you and didn’t want to waste another second. He wanted to find you in the crowd, climb up over the stands to whoever you were, and finally fucking kiss you. It was his grand gesture. 

His plan would have worked, but it was easier said than done. The confidence he felt before was wiped from him when he saw the way your face fell. He thought you didn’t want to see him, and that you were upset to run into him. He misread your sadness for distaste and resentment. That brief moment made his whole world come tumbling down around him. You were sad because you missed him, but he didn’t know that. So his plan fumbled in a moment of panic. 

Seeing you with Eddie had been his final straw. He felt like a ticking clock counting down was looming over his head. He was running out of time, he was losing you. He couldn’t let that happen. Was he going about it the right way? Probably not, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care in the least as he stormed over. Everything he’d been feeling was heightened. He was panicked and desperate and angry and so fucking jealous. This should’ve been him with you, driving you home in his car, and he had fucked that up. 

Eddie remembers how nervous he was when he picked you up for the dance that Friday night. He’d done his best to tame his hair, and Wayne let him borrow his suit. Wayne had stayed to help with his tie and to give him a talking to about how to be a gentleman when Eddie went to pick you up. 

“Actually go up to the goddamn door and knock. Say good evening to her parents,” Wayne instructed. “Make sure you hold her hand to help her down the stairs, open her car door, hold the door for her…” 

“Wayne I know, I know,” Eddie fused, worried he was going to be late. “It’s not a date anyways,” Eddie insists, although he wished it was. Wayne scoffs. 

“Whatever you say,” he said, rolling his eyes at Eddie. 

“Lemme get a picture,” Wayne had insisted, stopping Eddie from running out the door. Grumbling the whole time, Eddie stood in their little kitchen while Wayne fumbled with his old camera. “You never look halfway decent, gotta capture it for the book.” 

The photo is still hanging up on Wayne’s fridge to this day. Eddie has not worn a suit since. 

Arriving at your house was so daunting to Eddie. He’d never really met your parents before. Just in passing when he’d pick you up or drop you off for school. He’d been to your house before, you’d hosted a few times for Hellfire- but it was never anything like this. This was special. 

He went up to the door like Wayne instructed and he shook your dad’s hand. He was worried that they’d judge him- they would hate his hair or something. It’s the first time he’s relieved that his tattoos aren’t out on display. They were both kind to him, but he could tell they were not sure how to react to him. Self-conscious, he worried they were disappointed because he wasn’t Steve. Eddie wasn’t who they pictured for you. They envisioned you with Steve. That was they future they had planned. 

Eddie thought you looked absolutely unreal that night. He always thought that those scenes where the girl makes her grand entrance and floats down the stairs were corny. Until it happened to him and it felt like time stopped. Your descent down the stairs after your mom called you down had Eddie in a trance. You were angelic in your dress, the one Eddie will pretend you bought for him- not for Steve. Eddie must have been staring with his mouth agape, because your father needed to clear his throat for Eddie to realize you’d been expectantly waiting for him to say something. Literally anything. 

“You look beautiful,” Eddie marveled, and you giggled a shy thank you. A few hundred photos later and you both were finally on your way. 

 You were right, the Snow Ball was not Eddie’s scene at all. He didn’t like the music, or the people, but he was just so happy to be spending time with you that he couldn't care about literally anything else. You seemed happy too. Eddie thought you were glowing. He even danced to every song you wanted and took the cheesy photo booth pictures. You tore the photo strip in half so you could each have some. You use yours as a bookmark to this day and Eddie’s is still clipped to the visor in the van. 

You’d hardly even noticed Steve the whole night. Eddie kept you on your feet and kept you laughing so hard your stomach hurt. 

The bang on the side of the van made you jump. You both were startled. You watched as Eddie’s eyes widened as the panic set in for both of you. Neither of you had ever seen Steve like this, it wasn’t his nature. You both didn’t know what to do. 

“Just wait here,” Eddie said comfortingly, before jumping out of the van. “I’ll talk to him.” 

Steve stood outside waiting impatiently, his hands on his hips as his chest rapidly rose and fell. His hair was messy, as you watched from the side mirror, you could tell he’d been tugging at it- a nervous habit of his you knew quite well. 

“What the fuck is this?” He accuses. Eddie offers his hands up in surrender jokingly. 

“Come on Steve…” 

“You told me she wanted space! Then you swoop in and pull this shit?” 

“She did want space- not to be fucking ignored for weeks!” Eddie points out. “You had every opportunity and you just left her alone, so how long did you expect me to just stand around while you play these fucking mind games with her? I was the bigger person, Steve! I was willing to literally take myself out of the fucking equation if you both wanted each other- and you didn’t do shit!” 

Steve looks towards the van and you make eye contact in the side mirror. He looks devastated under the outward projection of anger. It’s like you’re a million miles away. He can’t be too late. He just couldn’t. How is he supposed to just walk away after everything? Is this just it? He pleads that you’ll do something- say something- anything! Just tell him you still care. 

You avert your gaze. Steve shallows harshly. 

Eddie crosses his arms, and steps in front of Steve’s view of you. “Come on man,” Steve pleads, voice cracking. “Let me just talk to her.” 

Eddie looks to you, and you shake your head “no.” 

“How about you call her tomorrow when you cool off? You’re scaring her,” Eddie proposes. 

“You don’t speak for her,” Steve argues. “Baby, please,” he pleads looking over Eddie’s shoulder. 

Baby? Eddie fumes- he can not be serious. 

You roll down the window a crack. “I’ll call you tomorrow, Steve. I don’t want to talk to you right now,” you shout from the van. Before he can respond, you crank the window back up. 

“Fine,” Steve glares at Eddie. It’s not over, but he’ll concede for now- if it’s what you want. He slams his car door shut before speeding away, the car screaming as he pulled away as quickly as he could. 

He knew his parents would be gone, so he opted to go to their house to crash tonight. He couldn’t bear facing Eddie back at their place after this. 

You don’t even realize that you’d be crying until you feel Eddie’s arms pull you in for a hug. He rubs your back comforting you as you are shocked at what just happened. 

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” he mumbles into your hair before placing a kiss on the top of your head. “Let me bring you home, yeah?” 

The ride back to your apartment is silent, neither one of you knowing what to say. Eddie doesn’t want to push, and you’re too exhausted to get into it. You rest your forehead on the cold glass of the window to help your head. Eddie wants to reach out and hold your hand as he drives, but he keeps his distance. 

Eddie always walks you all the way to your front door, even after you’ve told him he doesn’t have to so many times. Wayne would kill me, he would joke. He held the door open for you so you could hop out. He held your arm, helping you navigate the icy walk. And he walked you upstairs to your apartment. 

There’s a piece of paper taped to the front of the door. 

I decided to spend the night at Vicky’s. Do with that information what you will. - Robin 

“I don’t want to be alone,” you admit, a little panicked knowing you’d be walking into an empty apartment. Eddie sighs, biting his lip nervously. Steve is going to never want to see him again, he’s sure of it. 

“I can stay if that would make you feel better?” He offers. You nod. 

“Please.” 

You pull the note down and toss it in the bin on your way inside. Eddie follows after you, kicking off his boots in the entryway. You both hang up your coats. You move over to the thermostat and turn it up. Eddie lingers in the living room, not quite sure what to do with himself. You both say nothing for a few moments. 

“Eddie, I’m so sorry about all of this,” you say finally. “Just everything- everything is falling apart it feels like.”

“None of this is your fault- it’s really not anyone’s fault…well, except mine,” he says, like a confessional and he takes a step closer. 

“Yeah,” you reply softly, matching his step. 

The air in the room was thick with tension between the two of you. In the silence and still, there was a pull dragging you into each other. 

“The whole thing is quite unfortunate really,” he contemplates, a knowing smile forming on his face. One step. 

“Most unfortunate,” you whisper. One step. He reaches out and intertwines with fingers with his. 

“Awful,” he whispers, tracing circles on your hands with his thumb gently. It sears through you completely. 

He tilts his head and his lips ghost over yours. Your body feels like it’s on fire being so close to him. The first kiss is so delicate, and the familiar feeling ignites in you. It’s perfect, being held by him by this. 

His lips are softer than you expect when they slot against yours. You let yourself forget about everything else in that moment- everything just melts away at his touch. Your brain melts at the sensation and warmth spreads throughout your whole body. You part your lips, inviting him to deepen the kiss and he does gladly. 

Waiting for a kiss like this was worth it, Eddie thinks. All the nights he spent thinking about it and all the times he held back from touching you… all of it felt like nothing as you fill up all his senses. It’s almost too much. 

“Sweetheart… please,” he begs, mumbling against your lips. His hands rest on the expanse of your back and the sensation sends a shiver up your spine. You gently tug by his belt loops closer to you, so your body is flush against his. You moan softly against his lips. 

Without disentangling himself from you, he guides you as you walk backwards towards the door of your bedroom. His hands make everywhere on your skin burn in their wake as he brings them down your back, to your hip, then settle firmly on your ass. It makes you whimper. 

The back of you knees touch the edge of your bed, and you let yourself fall backwards- pulling Eddie to climb on top of you. His hair tickles as it curtains your faces, and he leans in to press hot kisses to your jaw and down your neck, a hickey forming right where he ends just above your collarbone. 

When he pulls back briefly, you take the opportunity to pull your sweater over your head and toss it to the floor. Eddie’s movements stutter, his eyes hungrily taking in all of the newly exposed skin. You were a vision. “Shit,” he breathes, “look at you.” 

He wastes no time pulling his shirt over his head, tossing it somewhere behind him. Warmth rushes to your core at the sight of his tattoos, the subtle muscle under his pale skin, the chain around his neck, the happy trail that leads down to wear his jeans are hanging low on his hips and showing off a prominent bulge… you’re fucked. He sits up on his knees over your thighs and your body aches at the separation. 

You watch as he takes his hair and gathers it together in his hands. Making a ponytail should not be this sexy, but it’s Eddie. He winks at you as he does when he notices the way you’re staring with your mouth open, heaving breathing. 

“Take these off, sweetheart,” Eddie hums, nodding down to your jeans as he pulls the elastic from his wrist around to secure it in his hair. You’re face is warm as you nod, wiggling out of them and kicking them away. You’re left in just your bra and panties and spread out before him. 

“These are so pretty,” he muses, teasingly, running his ringed fingers over the skin just above the edge of your panties. He kneels down on the floor at the foot of the bad, hooking your legs over his shoulders in one fluid motion. “So pretty,” he mumbles, pressing delicate, teasing kisses to your inner thighs as his hands rub up and down the length of your legs. 

His eyes are directly in line with the wet spot that has formed on your panties. It aches, and you’re desperate for him to do something about it. Without him even touching you yet, you’re squirming in the anticipation that he will do something to soothe the sensation that has been building up in  your core. 

He presses a kiss to your heat over your panties, his nose pressing against your clit and the feeling makes you gasp, relieved for just the littlest amount of contact. Satisfied with your response to him, he hooks his thumb through your panties, and drags them aside- the metal of his rings feel cool against the hotness of your skin and it makes you flutter. 

He grins devilishly, “All of this for me, pretty girl?” 

One hand holds your panties, the other rests on your hip to hold you steady when Eddie wastes no time, devouring you. His nose against your clit, his tongue lapping at your arousal- it was too much. He was like a man starved. How dare you deny him this for so long. He was desperate to taste you, and he groans- he knew you’d be so fucking sweet. He just knew it. 

He pulls back to rub his thumb over your clit, making circles that feel so good you could cry. You’re so needy, writhing in his arms as you feel a familiar knot form in your stomach. With his thumb firmly in place, he returns to latch his tongue back to you. 

“Eddie,” you whine, your hands tangles in your sheets to stabilize yourself. Your head is spinning, and you know you’re so fucking close. “Please,” you cry desperately at the sensation, chasing your climax. 

Eddie continues his pace, the exact way you need him to and he continues to work you through your first orgasm. He kisses your thighs when you finish and he smiles at you- his face glistening with your slick. Cheeky bastard. He kisses your legs, your stomach and all the way back up to your lips, tasting yourself on him. He tugs off your panties and tosses them on the floor. Something about making you cum, a switch flipped in Eddie. 

He’s kissing you like he’s depending on it to survive, he’s feeling confident and desperate to do that again. He practically growls against your skin, face buried in your neck. He works off his jeans and boxers. Your mouth waters. He’s gorgeous fucking everywhere. 

“Your turn,” you mumble, unhooking your bra, eyes wandering to Eddie’s hard cock. He shakes his head, kissing you again. Fuck if he doesn’t want that, but he can’t trust himself to not completely fall apart. 

“Next time, sweetheart,” he promises, and you pout. “Need to fuck you,” he mutters against your lips, his blood breath heavy against yours. You moan at his words. 

“Please, Eds,” you drawl, “need you inside me.” 

He teases your entrance, the top of his cock so painfully close to pushing inside you. “I’m going to fuck you so good you’ll forget all about Steve, sweetheart.” 

“Oh, fuck, Eddie please,” you whine, you hips trying to create some friction, already desperate and needy for another release. Oh, you liked that, Eddie muses. He can deliver. 

“He doesn’t deserve this pretty pussy does he?” Eddie muses, pushing in just the tip of his cock, watching as you fall apart, desperate for more of him. “This perfect… fuck, tight pussy,” he moans, pushing himself fully into you. 

“Can’t take care of you as good as I can,” he promises, thrusting into you at just the right, hitting that spot that makes your brain go stupid. You feel so full of him, you can’t imagine anyone feeling better than Eddie by the way he’s fucking into you. 

“He’s never gonna fuck you as good as this,” Eddie promises. You can believe it. He leans down and kisses your neck, his hand massaging your breast, tugging gently at your hard nipple before giving the same care and attention to the other one as well. He whispers more filthy things against your neck, and you moan- your body responding to his so well. 

“Fit around me so good, sweetheart,” he muses, hot kisses trailing over the stance of your neck, “you take my cock so well.” 

“Such a good girl… making my cock all messy,” he praises, and then he presses his lips to yours in a desperately messy kiss. “Fuck, sweetheart…” 

Tears threaten the corners of your eyes, it all is too good, too overwhelming. You’re so over sensitive from your first orgasm, you are reaching your peak again, all too quickly for your liking. You can’t help it- he feels too good and he’s so fucking attentive and fuck- you feel so close. 

“Cum on my cock princess,” Eddie encourages, feeling you tighten around his cock. “you’re gonna look so good for me, let me see you cum for me, yeah?” 

He holds your cheeks in his hand, your lips squished together as you look up at him, wide eyed. “You can do it, be a good girl and cum all over my cock,” he encourages. It’s just enough to make you fall apart all over again. Messy things spilling from your mouth as your body pulses and he continues his pace, working you through it- kissing your forehead. 

Eddie pulls out, making a mess on your stomach as he cums. Exhausted, he collapses on the bed next to you. He kisses you softly, praising you for being so good for him. It makes you feel like putty. He disappears for a second, disappearing behind the door. He comes back with water for you and a warm cloth. He kisses you, making you take the water from him, and then he cleans you up gently, kissing your body all over after the job is done. 

You don’t know what you’re going to say to Steve. All you care about now, is burrowing yourself into Eddie’s chest. For the first time in weeks, you and Eddie both actually sleep soundly, limbs tangled together- your bodies intertwined. 

PART FIVE

Taglist: @sunshinepeachx @downbear @fanlifeaamt @exploding-bonbon @losingmygrasponreality @skiddypiddy @andvys @djodirt @moonlightsolo @kyga01 @sheisjoeschateau @melaninjhs @v3lv3tf0x @purpleeyeswithgoldensparkles @sunshine-mrk @danymunsonharrington

[to-the-stars8]

The Waynes' Nanny

Batfamily and Reader/ Bruce Wayne x Reader Chapters Ao3

Take Your Nanny To Work Day

Without a shadow of a doubt, you could safely say that Mr. Wayne adored, doted on, and loved his children. They were the apple of his eye and the wind beneath his wings. Yet, when you appeared in his office on a Friday afternoon with his three youngest children, he was very unimpressed. 

Per usual, he said hello to the kids, smiling, kissing, and hugging them, and—in an also not unusual way—he pulled you to the side to scold you. He had told you before not to bring them while he was working, so you pointed out that it was his lunch period. 

“You can’t possibly be working during lunch, Mr. Wayne,” You said with a sly smile. “Especially when you so often encourage your children not to overwork. That would be hypocritical of you.”

There, he had little to no argument. 

Though, proudly, he could say there was a lot of irritation with you. He told you to walk ahead while he spoke to his secretary, more than likely moving meetings around so he could spend more time with the kids.

The Wayne Enterprises cafeteria was nice. With fancy glassware, plates, and the nicest selection of foods, the whole place just looked like a Wayne got their hands on it. It smelled wonderful, too, like the best chefs in the world were in the kitchen cooking away. All around the huge room were floor-length windows, and Tim demanded a table near one of them as you waited for Bruce to come down. Duke, who wasn’t one for demanding things like his older brother, asked in some agreement if all of you could sit by the windows. 

“Yeah, Damian wants to sit over there, too,” Tim said. Looking at Damian, it was clear that the little boy hardly knew what was happening.  

“Well, since you asked so politely,” You sarcastically remarked. “I think we might as well.”

Tim ran over to the window with Duke following suit, pressing his face against the glass as he looked down at all the people. Walking with Damian in hand, you looked down at the people below. You hadn’t noticed before just how high up you were, and it made you a bit dizzy as you realized it. 

Sitting, you urged the two boys to join you and their younger brother, but they were quickly caught up in an intense game of I Spy. Clicking your tongue, you instead turned your attention onto Damian who was busy playing with a new Blue’s Clues toy Mr. Wayne had gotten him. You played with Dami until you heard the boys start getting loud. 

“No! I was talking about that one,” Tim exclaimed. 

You were quick to correct him. “Timothy, inside voice.”

He mumbled an apology before turning back to the window. You admired the boys for a second and, now and then, played I Spy with them. It was nearly perfect until you heard it, some ladies and a man talking about you. 

“They don’t even look like they have the same father,” said a man’s voice.

A lady snickered before saying, “What would you expect? Just look at her.”

You wanted to get up and yell at them, but that wouldn’t be a good example to the kids. Plus, you could practically hear Mr. Wayne lecturing you if anything of the sort happened. Shaking it off, you went back to paying attention to the boys. 

At least, you tried to. 

They were still talking about you, and, even after your harsh over-the-shoulder glare, they weren’t stopping. The three of them stripped you down until they could only talk about the same things over and over. That was fine with you, as long as they were only talking about you. 

Suddenly, they were talking about the kids and you thought about ignoring them as you had with their conversation about you. 

“And the braids in that boy's hair!” It was obvious they were talking about Duke who had just had his hair done the day before and was so excited about it. Bruce was proud of himself, too, because he’d spent the whole day at the barber shop learning ways to maintain the braid. Their conversation made you decide you needed to say something when they said, "He looks like he doesn't belong, and neither does that loud black-haired boy. There has to be something wrong with them."

Standing, you put Damian next to Tim and Duke. “Stay here. Understand?”

They looked confused, but, since your voice was sharp and serious, agreed. Sucking in a breath, you stormed over to the table behind yours. 

In a low voice, you said, “If I hear one more goddamn thing come out of your mouth about my kids, I will take you into the kitchen and wipe the floor with all three of you. Maybe not you—” You pointed at the man with the thick round glasses. “Harry Potter, you look like you have streaks in your boxers.”

The three of them were red in the face, ready to scream at you before a voice cut over theirs, “Is there an issue here?”

Looking up, you saw Bruce standing there with his hands on his hips. The three at the table began to stumble over themselves, denying all accusations before you could throw them. It wasn’t until Damian noticed Bruce and ran over that they stopped. 

“Daddy!” The boy laughed as his dad picked him up. 

Duke and Tim ran over, too, both of them latching onto their father. It was then the three people at the table made their excuses and left. You tried to follow after, but Bruce snapped at you to stay. 

“We’ll talk about it in a minute,” He said. “Come on, let’s get these kids something to eat before they start biting our arms off.”

Giggling, the three boys playfully chomped on the two of you as you grabbed the trays and hopped in line. While standing in line, you tried to explain what had happened to Mr. Wayne, but he quickly quieted you. Again, he reminded you that everything would be discussed later. With a huff, you decided to change the subject for now since he was more than likely blowing you off so the kids wouldn’t have to hear. 

“Can I get some cake,” Duke asked. 

Bruce ran a hand over his cheek and smiled, “Sure thing, buddy. Tim, do you want one?”

“No, I want ice cream,” He said as he was already pulling the small bowl of ice cream toward him. 

Damian chimed in, “Me too, please!” 

Once the kids got what they wanted and were sitting at the table eating away, Bruce pulled you off to a hidden corner of the room to talk while still able to watch the kids. You were still fuming with rage, hardly able to hold back the story when he finally gave you a chance to speak. Bruce didn’t seem phased by what you had said, and you wondered for a second if he even cared.

“I see,” Was all he said when you were done.

“That’s it?” You said, shocked. “That’s all you have to say after I’ve told you about how racist and cruel those people were being?”

Bruce glanced over to the kids before looking down at you cooly. “What would you like me to do about it?”

“Don’t patronize me, Mr. Wayne.” You shook your head, about to step away because you felt it was obvious that he wouldn’t be any help. There was hardly a step taken before Bruce grabbed your arm and pulled you back. 

“I’m sorry if I gave you that impression, but I was being serious.”

“You’re such a…” You thinned your lips, not wanting to get fired so soon. When you looked up at him there was something about him that you liked way more than you should have. Sucking in a breath, you said, “Fire them, make them write a letter apologizing to you, Tim, and Duke personally—Something of the sort! Send them to a whole HR class about being prejudiced. Something to get the point across to them that what they did was inexcusably unacceptable.”

Mr. Wayne nodded as his eyes went back to the children at the table. You looked back at them to see them giggling as they happily ate their food. It made your stomach churn that anyone could talk about such sweet children in such a way. Shaking your head, you quietly added, “Make ‘em regret it.”

“I will,” Bruce said, reaching up to squeeze your shoulder. “But what about you?”

You looked up at him. “What about me?”

“What they said about you, what did you want done about that?”

You hadn’t thought about that—Really, you had nearly forgotten that part of their conversation. Shaking your head, you told him that nothing needed to be done about that. You were a big girl, you could handle a couple of insults. It was the kids that needed to be worried about. 

Bruce was silent for a few seconds before slowly nodding his head. “We should head back to the kids.”

You wanted to be speechless because, after all that, that’s how he was going to end the conversation. Nonetheless, you nodded and followed him to the table. The kids were glad to have you back, catching you up on all they had talked about in the short time the two of you were gone. 

After lunch, the five of you headed back up to Bruce’s office so the boys could say goodbye to their father in a more private setting. When the hugs and kisses were done, Mr. Wayne pulled you close to tell you that the situation was already being dealt with. You wouldn’t have given it much thought if, as you were leaving, you didn’t see the perpetrators shamefully walk into his office. Looking back at Mr. Wayne, he gave you a quick wink before shutting the door. It wasn't long until you heard loud, muffled yelling.

 Maybe your boss wasn’t as annoying and pompous as you thought.

[patscorner]

CHAPTER ONE: BUY-IN

pairings: paige x oc

contains: pining, angst

word count: 2,575

a/n: okay, one chapter in. let me know what you guys think, my inbox is open. also let me know what you might like to see, the outline isn't set in stone. school has started so it might be a bit before the next chapter, but it's coming. enjoy!

My palms sweat as I dial the familiar number, one I’d memorized by heart. It’d been far too long since I’d called her, and I don’t really have a reason, so the bullshit ‘I’ve been busy’ excuse will just have to do.

=======================

JUNE 2023

“Hello?”

I clear my throat in an attempt to swallow the lump that magically appeared. “H-Hey, Azzi, uh-it’s CJ.”

“Who?” My heart dropped to my shoes as my brain scrambled to pick up the pieces of one word.

“I-uh..”

Azzi chuckles. “I’m just messing with you. What’d you need?” I let out a breath as I rub my head.

“Oh my god, I actually hate you, holy shit.” I laugh.

“Apparently, since it’s been, what, like three months since we’ve talked.” I could practically hear the eye roll.

It’s really not fair for me to ignore Azzi because, really, she hadn’t done anything but be my best friend.

Our best friend.

And maybe that our was the problem. Maybe that combination, the unity of the word, and everything behind it was a mistake. Maybe, letting her etch herself into the scrolls of my heart, so much so that the ink bled together. Maybe the missed cue of when mine became hers, and hers became ours, was poor oversight.

Maybe letting Azzi become collateral damage was where me and her went wrong.

I laugh it off, ignoring the pang it sends to my chest.

“Yeah, well, I have to mentally prepare myself to lose brain cells. Can’t let it fuck up my game.” I respond, earning a laugh from the brown-haired girl. There’s nothing like the nostalgia a sound can bring you. The memories and feelings, all hidden behind a single noise.

After she gathers herself, she sighs. “So what’s up?”

And suddenly, I remember why I’d called.

“Yeah, uh, there’s something I kinda wanted to talk to you about, before you hear it somewhere else..” I say, picking at my earlobe nervously.

“Ooookay… Is everything okay..?” her voice relaying softer through the phone.

I nod. “Yeah, it’s nothing bad. Or, at least, I don’t think..” I fall silent for a moment. This couldn’t be as bad as I’m making it seem, right? Right?

“Either way, I’d just rather talk about it in person.”

Azzi hums. “Yeah, yeah, that’s fine. Where do you want to meet?” I consider my options. I’m only in Minnesota to visit my family for about a week, and it’d take another day to get to Virginia… I would be back in time to move into my dorm. It’s inconvenient but doable.

“I could drive up to you in like a week, I’ll just meet you at your house.” I mutter thoughtfully.

“Wait, are you in Texas or Minnesota?”

“I’m about an hour out from Minny.” I answer, slightly confused.

“Oh, I’m here with Paige and the boys. We’re actually headed to the fair soon. You could meet up with us if you wanted.”

“Shit…uh, I didn’t think about them...” I mumble.

That’s a lie. Truthfully, every time I think of home, memories of the blonde flood my mind instantly. But then I’m reminded of what she’d done. How she ripped herself out of my chest like velcro, instead of carefully detangling herself, ridding herself off all strings attached. All for someone else.

For someone who used to be mine.

“Hello..? You still there?”

I shake my head to clear my thoughts. “Yeah, yeah, sorry. Uh, th-yeah, that’s fine.” I sigh, quickly trying to recover.

Azzi sighs through the phone. “Look, I still don’t know what happened between you two, so if you don’t want to come-” she amends.

“No! No, okay, sorry. I- just gotta change my clothes…” I say, biting my lip as I lie through my teeth. “I’ll just meet you guys there?”

I could practically hear Azzi smile. “That sounds good, just call me when you get there.”

After we say our goodbyes, I hang up. I groan as I throw my head back.

I’m always up to a challenge, but the thought of going and having to function around her, after all she’s said and done; after she’s ruined us before there even was an us, that might be more difficult than I’d thought.

It’s not like I have a choice, though. I’m gonna have to learn how to be around her every day, especially when the season starts.

_________

“Drew, bro, if you spray me with that shit one more time, I swear to god, I will beat your ass.” I glared at him as he hid behind Jose, who put his hands up in surrender. I should not have bought him that water gun.

I rolled my eyes as I turned back to Azzi, who kept looking around, then back at her phone, repeating the process. I kicked her in her shin. “Ow! Paige, what the fuck?” Azzi complains, rubbing her leg. “Who are you looking for?” I say, glancing around.

She looks back down at her phone. “Nobody. Just people watching.” I scoff. “Bullshit, are we being spied on, or what?” She shakes her head, looking up around once more. “Okay, bro, what’s going on? Who’s ass do I have to beat?”

Azzi rolls her eyes at me. “You couldn’t beat Ohio, let alone anyone else.”

I sit back in shock, putting my hand on my heart as I feign offense. “Okay, their defense was so unexpected. You can’t even put that on me.” She shrugged, looking back at her phone and standing up. “Where-”

“Bathroom.” she mutters. I watch as she practically sprints away. If only she did that shit in practice. I shake my head.

I open my phone and begin mindlessly scrolling through instagram, ignoring the thousands of times I’ve been tagged in pictures that I’d taken with fans today. Suddenly, I freeze.

It’s a post by the official UConn women’s basketball team. It’s a picture of CJ in her Texas jersey, the number 43 on the front. Her hair is in her signature bun, hair slicked back carefully, as she drives towards the basket. The caption reads “Welcome CJ West!”

What the fuck?

I’m in such a state of shock that when Azzi comes back, I don’t notice the figure next to her. I glance up at her, then back at my phone. “Yo, Azzi, have you seen this?” I look up at her again, and this time, I let my eyes flick to the person next to her.

CJ.

Forgetting what I’d just seen, my jaw drops as I take her in. She’s just as beautiful, if not more, as she was the last time I’d seen her. She’s wearing a basic casual outfit; a plain white crop top, paired with blue jeans, and gold jewelry that always makes her hazel eyes seem brighter. Or maybe that’s just how they look naturally.

“Oh, shit.” I whisper, clearly in awe. She rolls her eyes.

Fuck.

“Hello to you, too, Paige.” Double fuck.

That fucking voice.

I clear my throat, trying to recover. “Hey, CJ.” I breathe. The lighthearted air is swallowed by suffocating tension as I make eye contact with a stranger.

“Oooookay…” Azzi says, clearing her throat. “This is about as awkward as I’d thought it’s be…” she mutters. CJ looks at her. “I told you.”

I look between them. “What’s going on?”

Azzi looked at CJ expectantly, gesturing to her to speak. CJ rolled her eyes and huffed. “I-uh, I have news.” CJ glanced between Azzi and I. She cleared her throat as she picked at her earlobe, a habit she’d picked up when she was younger. I’d always hold her hand to stop her, and I want to do that more than anything right now. I think I’ve lost that right, though.

“I’m transferring to UConn.”

My eyes flick to Azzi’s who’s jaw drops. “Really? How-Why?”

CJ shrugs, trying feign carelessness. “Better environment, Texas heat ain’ my thing.” To the normal eye, CJ’s behavior could be seen as normal. But to me? I see the way her eyelids flutter, the hesitation behind her pretty lips, and the way her eyebrows raise just slightly. She’s a good liar.

Just not good enough.

I don’t say anything, though, not when she gets dragged away by Drew and Jose, not when Drew practically begs her to stay and hang out with us, and certainly not when she’s sat in front of me on the ride Jon chooses. I don’t say anything when the boys get swept away, and it’s just the three of us, like it always used to be.

It’s only when Azzi goes to the bathroom, leaving us alone for the first time in years that I say anything. “Try not to kill each other, please.” She orders as she scurries to the restroom.

It’s silent for a moment, and I can almost see the relief on her face when she thinks I’ll hold my tongue.

Unfortunately, I’m nobody’s peace.

“How long are you here for?” I ask, stuffing my hands into my black cargo pants. She looks up at me. “Uh-just for the week, gotta move outta my dorm, and it’s a long drive, so.”

I raise my eyebrows. “You driving on your own?”

CJ nods. “Yeah, I’ll just sleep in my car or something.” I shake my head. “No fucking way, bro, you serious? That’s like a twenty hour drive.”

She crosses her arms. “So? That’s how I got here.”

“Yeah, well, you’re not goin’ on your own.” I say. Truthfully, I knew she’d be fine on her own, but something about her driving back to Texas, just to go back to Connecticut, doesn’t sit well with me. I’m only concerned for her safety. Or at least that’s what I decide to tell myself.

She scoffs. “What, you’re gonna come with me?”

“I could, if that’s what you want.”

“That’s the last thing I want.”

“That’s bullshit.”

“It’s not. Didn’t even wanna see you today.”

I turned to her. “Seriously, dude?” She looks at me. “Yes, seriously.”

I roll my eyes. I know I hurt her. I know I fucked up. But that was three years ago. We were kids. I was eighteen. I can legally drink now. It’s been three years. How can someone be upset for that long? “You gotta get over it one day.” I say before thinking about it.

I regret it when I see a flash of hurt on her face. “Get over it? That’s easy for you to say, Paige.” she spits out harshly.

Ouch.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I say, even though I know exactly what she meant. “Exactly what it sounds like. You get over shit quickly.” She shrugs. Her nonchalant tone pisses me off more than the words. I take a step towards her. “I didn’t ‘get over’ anything. There was nothing to ‘get over’. You were just jealous-”

“Jealous?” She interrupts incredulously. “Paige, you stuck your tongue down her throat!”

“And that pissed you off. Hence, jealousy.” I shrug.

“You were my best friend! It’s not fucking jealousy, it’s betrayal!” She practically yells, taking a step closer, our toes almost touching.

“I didn’t betray anybody! I was drunk! She was drunk! And I apologized afterward!” I say, trying to ignore the way her scent invades my senses.

She laughs dryly, taking a step back. “Right, you’re right. Yeah, an apology fixes it all.” I blink. “Really?”

CJ stares at me. “You’re a fucking idiot.” she says, and the only emotion I can pick up is anger. “I know.” I whisper.

Just then Azzi comes out of the bathroom, looking between us. “Everything okay?”

“Yep.” We say at the same time, and Azzi raises her eyebrows. “Aaaalrighty then… Can we find the boys, I’m ready to go.”

I nod and begin to walk behind Azzi, but I don’t miss the way CJ looks at me. I’m no expert, but if I know one thing, it’s the gaze of someone who’s been heartbroken.

I know because I’ve seen it. I’ve seen it every time I’ve looked in the mirror for the past three years.

__________

“There’s no way you’re driving to Texas by yourself.” Azzi gapes from the corner seat of the booth. Jose convinced Paige to drive us to some random diner. She’s so easy.

I roll my eyes as I take a sip of my sprite. “Bro, you sound like Paige.” I grumble.

“The fact that I’m agreeing with her should tell you how fucking stupid you sound.” she said. I look at her in shock as Paige throws her head back, cackling.

Fuck.

That stupid fucking laugh paired with that stupid fucking smile makes it so fucking hard to be mad at her. Maybe I should let it go. It has been three years…

No.

Instead of entertaining the thoughts, I opt for kicking her shin instead. “What do you think that says about you, dumbass.” She immediately shuts up, and I roll my eyes as Jon almost spits out his Dr. Pepper.

“I’ll have you know I was AP player of the year.” She defends, eyebrows furrowed. I raise my eyebrows unimpressed. “Still holding onto that, huh?”

Azzi laughs, and Paige shoots her a look. “Can we get back on task, please?” That seems to direct all the attention back to me. “Driving to Texas? All on your own?” Paige says.

“Yes. Did y’all forget how I got here? I didn’t fucking speedwalk.”

“Yeah, but you’re gonna go to Texas, spend, what, two full days staying up late and packing up three years of your life, and then driving the… twenty-nine, thirty, hour trip to Connecticut?” Azzi reasons.

I blink. “Well, when you put it like that..” I mutter.

Paige rolls her eyes. “Dude, just let us come with you. We can drive you there, so your car isn’t sitting in the middle of nowhere-”

“Isn’t your car in Storrs?”

“And we can switch drivers. Stay at a hotel halfway there, and then drive the rest of the way the day after.” She finishes, ignoring my comment. Before I can answer, the waiter comes with our food.

As he sets the plates down, I look at Paige, just taking her in. She’s wearing a plain black hoodie, with some red, white, and blue shorts on. It’s not much, but she could be wearing a trashbag and still be the hottest motherfucker around. It’s almost disgusting how effortlessly gorgeous she is.

I wouldn’t mind having someone to help me get to Connecticut. It’s a long drive, and it should be an easy yes. The truth is, when she looks like that, and acts like this, and talks the way she does… I don’t know how I’m going to get through the season, let alone a road trip.

I watch her lips as she says a thank you to the waiter, quickly averting my eyes when she looks at me. When the waiter leaves, I look back up and roll my eyes at her poor attempt to hide her smirk. As much as I wanted to wipe the smirk off her face, driving alone to Texas sounded dreadful. Plus, Paige has an okay music taste. Might not be that bad.

“Fine. You guys can come with me to Texas.”

Azzi smiles, clearly satisfied. Paige grins like a madman, clapping her hands. “This is going to be fun.”

I roll my eyes for the upteenth time tonight.

What the fuck did I just get myself into?

=======================

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[kneelingshadowsalome]

I Never Missed You 2/3 (Bodyguard!Ghost x F!Reader)

Word count: 7.3 k

Tags/warnings: 18+ only. Romance, eventual smut, fluff, light angst, banter, pining, flirting, minor injuries, major character death, HFN ending. Lady/Knight dynamic. Unequal pairing trope. Bodyguard AU. Reader is a rich bitch (how else could she afford a PPO?)

Summary: You hire a bodyguard to protect you and hunt down the one who's been sent to take your life. This man was your lawyer's first recommendation, and you never even looked through his file because you had better things to do. But it soon turns out that this man – this Simon Riley – is very talented... Talented in driving you crazy.

A/N: A three part fic based on this request. Smutty smut ahead in this chapter. Brace yourselves for impact.

Part 1

You have to admit that you look dashing tonight. 

And not because you want to turn people's heads at the party… But because you want him to look at you like you're the most forbidden snack he will never have.

It's selfish and petty, and you're just seeking attention. But at least you have the balls to admit it: you want Simon Riley to drool after you. You want this man on his knees. And nothing else has worked except that bra.

So you turn to the world's oldest weapon. A woman's weapon. Seduction.

"I'd suggest you keep a low profile until we're done."

He looks at you through the mirror while you finish your hair. Uses the word we instead of I. It makes your heart ache… And you take even that lecturing comment as a compliment. So he does think you look nice, or at least nice enough to stand out. You read into every look, every little tone of voice he gives you.

"I thought we were supposed to lure him in," you say while you neaten your necklace. Of course you look nice. You have done everything you can to look ravishing tonight: a deep-cut, thigh-revealing dress, cat eye makeup, red lipstick...

"Yeah but not like this."

"I'm not locking myself inside the house because of this," you announce pointedly. "I'm not afraid to live my life." 

You turn and look him up and down, give him a little tilt of the head. "Don't you have anything else to wear?"

He doesn't shrink, doesn't bat an eyelash. Just looks down on you from that ivory tower of masculine prowess and makes you feel like a fool for being so dolled up.

"There's a difference between courage and foolhardiness," he states, not falling for your attempts to make him feel small in your world. You suspect there is so much more to this man, but you don't care to know about the circumstances he grew up in, the situations that gave him that broken nose and lip. You don't want to know about his broken soul.

Or perhaps you do...

"I suppose you know everything about that," you say while looking straight at the uneven scar on his jugular.

"I do."

"Tragic past?"

"You could say that."

You feel even more silly, standing before him in all your glory, pearls in your ears and silver around your neck. You pay this man for his services; he's supposed to protect you. But something in his eyes told you from the start that there lies an abyss inside this man. And you didn't pay for that: a peek inside his heart. But a door is open a creak now, and what's inside is pure darkness.

"Well, whatever it is, I'm sorry you had to deal with that."

Your cultured attempt to dance around his chasm makes those brown pools melt. Finally, he melts. But not to compassion, or mercy, or anything that would make you believe that you two understand each other. 

He looks at you like you're a stranger from another planet. He's intrigued but doesn't quite understand how a creature like yourself has come to be. You're not only a child in his eyes but a coward as well for not daring to open that door to hell.

"What do you think," you hurry to change the subject. "Will I do tonight?"

He’s always so hyper-vigilant, his stare fixed on everything else but you. It feels childish, to be jealous of his attention when all he’s trying to do is protect you. 

But now… Now that alert darkness bores straight into you.

"You look good in everything, ma'am."

A breeze of arctic wind goes through your scalp, and a fainting warmth settles in your belly.

You tiptoed your way to the fridge yesterday morning, before official breakfast, in your knickers and an old band merch from your youth - the one you still slept in sometimes because it was far more comfier than your silk pajamas. He walked in fully dressed and mighty while you were sneaking back upstairs with a glass of apple juice. The humiliation was overwhelming, especially when he dared to look you up and down in your state of underdress.

"Goodness… Sorry."

It should’ve been he who was supposed to say those words. But you felt like an intruder in your own house. It was a dangerous slip: to look so homely, with no brush stroke gone through your hair, with no toner on your skin. With no makeup and standing there before him in all your…you.

"No harm done."

He had never looked at you like that, and you swore right then and there that you would only descend those stairs with your full battledress from now on.

"Even in an old t-shirt…?" You ask with a tight voice. Desperate. Longing…

"Especially then."

Simon Riley strips you from your weapons and charades in a second. Your tight, seductive smile slowly falls off your face, and from behind it, a fragile, naked hope arises to gape at him. He clears his throat as if he just offered you an entire bowl full of ice cream when he was supposed to give you only a little scoop.

"I'm gonna go take a shower," he says, calm and adamant, like a statue you would go to see at a gallery.

"I'm afraid we should be going already."

"Takes 5 minutes."

You purse your lips, and he's on his way to the bathroom before you can even give him your nod. The guy is used to military showers, then, and perhaps it's for the better that he puts on at least some effort.

When he comes out, you're sitting in the hallway, and he's only wearing a towel. It's the one you gave him when he arrived, the softest you could find from your closets. You remember how the first odd thought you had upon seeing this man is that he probably isn't used to softness.

And now you see why.

You can see the prominent veins and the sketchy forearm ink, his muscles are magnificent to the point of unholy, he has a delicious, thin layer of fat on top of his belly, and the eyelashes aren't the only breath of hair that's pale on this man… But he looks like he has gone through an inferno.

His back is full of scars, and half of his shoulder looks like it has been dipped into a deep fryer. You catch a hollow dent between his ribs, and there's more, but he walks to his room before you see the rest of it.

The taxi drive to the party is filled with silence as you try to digest what you just saw. You want to call your lawyer and demand him to tell you where the hell did he find this man and who Simon Riley truly is. Who exactly does he work for when he's not taking bodyguard jobs? 

But the first thing you do when you arrive at the large party held in a small palace is to go to the punch bowl and down a glassful in one go.

He's on your heels the whole night, eyes everyone with a hawk stare, and does his job perfectly. He grabs your arm occasionally and whispers in your ear if someone seems suspicious. After one and a half hours, he comes to you and practically demands that you two leave. Normally, you would start an argument, but not tonight.

You kind of want to go back home, too. The people at the party seem tedious, and his scars have reminded you that even if you live in a world where violence is not the norm, it doesn't mean that other worlds don't exist. Otherworlds - where people get shot, stabbed, and blown apart. Whipped and cut and deep-fried. You're in danger, and it took his suffering to see that.

You have been so stupid that you just about wish someone would slap you.

Simon has been so patient with you that you nearly apologize on the ride back home. You want to beg his forgiveness and confess you have been a spoiled little idiot.

But again, that's not an easy thing to do. You turn to look at your forbearing bodyguard, ever silent in the taxi, and turn your voice to silk.

"You really should smile more," you suggest. He doesn't answer, just looks out your window as if there were perils there too. You suddenly realize anyone could shoot through the glass or the door at any given time. With a proper caliber, a bullet could pierce that window and coat his black shirt with the insides of your skull.

No. No. I'm not ducking my head.

There's no one there.

"Have you ever tried?"

You turn to humor and flirt to drive those intrusive thoughts from your head. He doesn't yet know that you're afraid, that you have been afraid this whole time. You should have bought that armored car.

"Am I your most annoying client ever…?" There's a smile on your lips, a little pardon for being so infuriating. His eyes drop there, then lift back up to your eyes with surprising seriousness.

"You're my first client ever."

Well… This was news.

"Oh. Why did you accept this job?"

His stare sails away from you and back to the London night. You stifle the urge to grab his hand, a fistful of his shirt, to draw his attention back to you. Every time he's around, you feel safe; every time he looks at you, everything else ceases to exist. 

You want him so badly you could cry.

"They don't teach you manners at the SAS…?"

"No. They teach us how to kill."

You scoff and turn to look through the window, too. 

"Brute."

"You're entitled to your opinion, ma'am."

When you reach your house, he uses that term again. You're 110 % sure he's only trying to annoy you. 

"Good night, ma'am."

"Stop it," you nearly slam your purse on the table in the hallway.

"What?"

"The ma'am thing…!"

You sound like a wife who's looking for an argument after putting on a charade all evening. When the door to your home closes, volcanoes erupt, and bombs drop, your husband-like bodyguard gets the blunt of your fear and frustration.

But how do you argue with someone who never argues back? He's calm like the Pacific during a stormless season, always, always gets calmer when you're going berserk. He walks to the armchair in your living room like he owns the whole goddamn place and sits down with a sigh. 

And there is a smile playing on his lips.

"What should I call you then?"

You look at him, dumbstruck, on that chair, spreading his legs like there's no tomorrow, arms comfortably on the armrests, and mouth drawn into a genuine, peaceful, thoroughly naughty smile.

"Oh, now you're smiling," you huff. The unbelievable audacity of this man… "Some ideas on what to call me popped into your head?"

"Verily."

"Go on then."

"Nah. You should go to sleep."

"I'm not going until you tell me."

You cross your arms over your chest to underline that ruling. His smile only widens. He looks wickedly delicious in that seat with his legs spread, and the chair doesn't swallow him like it swallows you. Actually, his shoulders are wider than the back panel of this enormous chair.

"Well," he begins, "’princess' came up first."

You try to catch what he just said through the stupor of wanting to climb on that wide lap.

"Truly? How original."

"Or spoiled brat."

You stop breathing for a second, then reel straight toward a spiral of–

"How dare you?"

You notice his eyes dropping to your heaving breasts again. This man is so different from a dinner-offering, cunning man in a suit. He has no pretenses whatsoever. He looks at you with that little smile, eyes burning, legs drifting apart even more, probably his cock stirring from how you are trying to chastise him. If you had pearls around your neck, you would clutch them. Or throw them at him.

"You son of a–"

"Pretty."

His next choice renders you speechless; it cuts through your insult before it even flees your mouth. You gape at him, jaw open, breathing and cheeks burning, pussy throbbing - soaked so thoroughly now that you feel a tiny droplet cascade down your thigh.

"Yeah. That's better," the man says as if he's also blessed with a Superman stare, knowing you're seconds away from drenched. "Better than brat or princess, anyway."

The darkness conceals most of him as he settles inside that massive chair he dwarfs. You are falling, or at least that's what it feels like. A tumble, a slip inside his Styx. But there's no bottom, and the water is warm ink, despite the fact that he's so blanched.

"Pretty…?" You whisper into that water, breathe onto the surface of his depths. The darkness answers immediately.

"Very."

Your swallow is a wet, nervous roll inside your throat when you sink into that river of lust and smoke. 

You take your jewels off first, because you know he doesn't care for them. Money's not his chief interest, even if he's being paid. And fat, at that. But he's not here for riches, he’s not here for the jewels – or that's what you desperately wish.

The necklace and pearls are gone soon, tucked away on the table with your trembling digits, and he's sitting there like a statue.

You have no trouble with this dress: the zipper seems to cascade down on its own as you reach behind your back. He's motionless as you slip out of the straps that keep the dark velvet up. You feel like you're the Styx: but the darkness of the river pools at your feet as you let go of the gown, let go of everything and continue your freefall.

He doesn't move, doesn't give evidence that he's even breathing; he just sits there like a long-forgotten king.

The panic snares you with a drool-wet throat: you salivate not because of him but because of your nerves. 

Are you… harassing him?

Does he want this…?

At least he thinks you're pretty – and you could laugh out loud; your thoughts are vain and petty, even when you're baring yourself before him in more ways than just one. Your breaths are audible distress inside that darkness, and he's still: everything's still.

But he moves when you reach for your bra.

It's just a hand that soars through the darkness, an involuntary reach for support and gathering of composure as his fingers find his jaw. They swipe across imagined stubble before he leans his head on that hand, just an ounce's worth of weight placed on his thumb and pointer as if he's simply in his thoughts. But the hawk stare is fixed on the lace covering your breasts as it falls on the floor too.

You hear his breaths now. Quicker on the inhale, heavy on the exhale. Your thumbs slide under the hem of the last piece of your veil, something you got from the store when you were feeling down. Now the underwear makes you feel better than ever - who would’ve guessed it's the moment you slither it off? Slowly, too: you’re being a tease, hip bones giving a two-second dance for him as he continues to watch you strip before him like the queen of the night.

You breathe in sync now, and your nipples perk up – he hasn't even touched you yet and you're more aroused than ever with a man.

Not a word spoken, and you fear you’re being delusional – if you've just imagined the heat between you two, but then those legs flare a hair's breadth more. His voice is the softest whip as it crackles through the void.

"Yeah... You're pretty. Now what?"

You breathe in gusts now. It's exhilaration, damnation.

"Jesus Christ, Simon."

The chair gives a creak as he rises, like an ancient shadow. Intimidating – intense, always, always, and you've been trying to coat him with soft towels and feed him toast. You wonder if he prefers black tea simply because it tastes more bitter than coffee rounded with milk.

Does he want this? Silly softness and toast and–

You get all your answers as he bends just enough to match your height, just enough to sweep you off your feet. Your hands go around his neck on instinct as he lifts you up from your rich, opulent Styx and into his sea.

You're quiet all the way upstairs – he can't fuck you downstairs, then, has to intrude on your luxury and privacy. You don't mind, especially when the steps give a desperate wail under your combined weight. He lets it sing its music to the night: your ruining already makes so much noise.

He reaches for his gun right after he’s placed you on the mattress. The sound of it is heavy when he sets it on the nightstand that has only seen glasses of water and apple juice and perhaps a few books. 

He undresses with soldierly sharpness, no seduction there. But he doesn't have to seduce you: his stare and heavy-cold demeanor have already done that.

He's so, so different from the others… Looks at you on the bed like you're both a piece of tender sirloin and something akin to garbage. That's an accurate depiction of a princess, perhaps. You know wasps gather around both honey and bloodied meat. 

He looks at you like that because you know nothing. And he's not here to ruin you… he's here to insert himself inside you like you're a foe that needs to be infiltrated, plundered and burned until you understand. 

He's big. Daunting. A brute while you’re the princess, could be the sleeping beauty, the way you stay immobile and try to take in this man's sheer power. You saw him half naked already when he came from the shower, but it's nothing compared to seeing all that taut, scarred flesh up close, soon about to fall upon you like a broken mountain. 

And what's between his legs is wholly proportional to the rest of him. That thing is a menace, and it's not even fully erect - hanging thick between thick thighs, foreskin revealing a fat, sloping tip, and he's veined all over… 

Finally, your mouth goes dry.

His gaze sweeps your beauty, and that cock gives a throb – a good, hard pull that stretches out into the open air, and your eyes go wide. Then he prowls, like the king of the jungle, moving with a fluidity that must be scary to those who meet their end by this big brute’s violence.

You are able to take in air only when his hand falls next to your head. The other claims you by the middle as if to soothe you - but the truth is you're caged in like a tiny, quivering animal.

The hand is heavy as it slopes across your stomach and scales your mound. It doesn't cup or probe, only rests there over your most sacred place, like an enemy surrounding a city. Your thighs part slowly, hoping he would just sweep right in.

"This wasn't in the deal," he rasps as he looks down at you: heavy iron judging a diamond.

"Oh shut up," you breathe, thoroughly thrilled and shy. If you weren't lying down, his intensity would buckle your knees.

"Nor do I take orders from you, ma'am."

"I'm not- Don't call me a-"

His eyes spark as the hand dips down like a deep diver into the blue. You gasp a stunned whiff when he's met with a mortifying amount of slickness. Your arousal sings a pretty song as he draws a finger over your slit, the moist sounds followed by another stuttering sigh. 

"Look at you all wet," he remarks, and you grit your teeth.

“Shut…up…”

"You know why I accepted this job?"

He wrecks you with one thick finger, rough skin lathering you with your own juice like he's trying to make a point here. And he is making a point: it comes across perfectly. The princess is a filthy mess for brutes…

And of course he was given a file on you too. With more than just one photo.

"Yeah," he rasps when you only look back at him with your felled deer helplessness. You could swear that he just heard your thoughts. "I think you know."

"You're–ah– a brute," you whisper, eyes shining. Your thighs part even more, feel yourself leaking over his fingers that stroke you agonizingly slow. You swallow with hunger, the need pangs on your cheeks. Your whole body is throbbing for him.

“Sticks and stones, love.”

He's so infuriating that you could slap him. Claw him, rip him apart. But you nearly laugh instead… It's far better an option to let him claw and rip you apart. He's tearing you apart right now, with those eyes and his hand, exploring you like you're the first course and he's here for the whole dinner. How can he be so calm?

"Could you…" You start, then realize you've never begged for this man.

"Hm? Talk to me," he commands. "Whatever ya want."

You whimper – from bliss or relief, you can't tell. The frantic need to serve is fully fleshed out in his tone. It surprises you. You thought he was here for his own pleasure. 

You try to think through the bliss of his fingers. You've had all kinds of things... All you could ever want, most would say. But that's not entirely true. No man has ever promised to please you however you want.

"Could you go…"

"Go down on you?" He places a thumb, broad and hard, on your clit. Teases it with the slightest pressure and a circle.  "Lick your cunt?"

Fuck…

He has no trouble saying it as it is, and you nod, still helpless.

"Sure. 'N after that I'll fuck you nice and good."

He's never, ever sounded like that before. Dark, and rich, the baritone reaching a level that speaks of hunger – no, need.

A brute, a pussy-drunk brute, the blood in your veins sing as he goes down. Nothing can prepare you for the way with which he manhandles his way between your thighs like they're only a petty distraction in the way. They're forced wide apart with a tight grip that speaks of urgency, but he takes his time to admire the sight bared before him. He’s drinking you in like ambrosia, towering above you while you’re being held open for him to just observe you like you’re a center-spread girl in a filthy magazine. 

"You're fucking pretty down here, did ya know that?"

You don't even know what to say - his tone, his observation is base, and still, they're the most beautiful words anyone has ever said to you.

"No…?"

"Well now ya know."

He steals a final glance at you, and the fire in his eyes already makes your legs feel weak. He dives between your parted legs, right into your leaking, glistening folds, and you're suddenly glad that you've done all that yoga… Those shoulders are so broad they force your thighs even further apart as he makes himself home there between your legs. 

A hot mouth presses against you like this man has been starving, even if you've fed him the best delicacies for days. An even, fat stroke is the first thing you feel before your toes curl and your head falls back.

"Goodness, Simon..." You try to keep yourself from stuttering as his mouth opens you like a flower. You should be quiet, for once, and let him do the job. He seems like an expert, even and especially there between your legs. "Do you-ah, always shag your clients?" 

"Told you you're my first," he rasps a husky sigh on your folds. He could ruin you with that voice alone.... He gives you another sweep of his tongue, full and ample, and your fingers curl around the sheets, your hips buck; your ass drives up on instinct, trying to both escape his mouth and rub your pussy against those thin but eager lips. 

"Don't worry," he tells your pussy with a warm chuckle. "This is free of charge."

You sigh, the first laugh of many up into the air. You're supposed to get angry, but you can't. You can't. 

"Have… no words for you."

"Good. It's about time you stopped talking, love."

He grabs your hips to punctuate it that you should indeed shut up. Fingers sink into your flesh like you're a whole goddamn feast - no more fucking toast and teasing. His hands look so huge as they dig into your skin - so different from the hands of men who work in offices or wait for people to serve them. You upvoted those hands to be the best part of this man long ago.

And that bulk of muscle… Some of those men in suits might go to the gym, but they couldn't forge a body like his in a million years: that breathtaking mass built to work and endure harsh conditions. It's not a flex or a sculptured piece of art: it's simply survival - ancient and primal.

He's got darkness, and you got diamonds, but something tells you his depths are infinitely more valuable. You couldn't buy his intensity even if they sold it in the streets. The skull mask was self-made, everything in this man is self-made, and he's sampling what diamonds taste like, and you wonder… Does he think you're cheap, some fake piece of worthless junk? Does he laugh at how easy you are? That under your manners, you're only a spoiled brat and a promiscuous maneater…? Or that he couldn't care less, as long as he can push his cock inside you?

He gives you his best, that's for sure. A working man, with you as his assigned mission, and the feeling of being a spoiled little princess only increases. And how are you supposed to stay still if he's slow and attentive like that? You might be his first client, but you're not his first shag…

His lips seal tightly around your nub, suck it, lap it, sigh on it - he's already breathless from the need to make you moan and cum. A purpose-driven, ravenous man, and when he dips his tongue inside your cunt, your mind finally goes blessedly blank. Your legs shake and stretch, and you can’t prevent your hand from skimming down to grab his hair when he gives you deep, unhurried plunges with his tongue, huffing against you from the mad want to make you feel good. 

You would never have guessed that Simon Riley would get such pleasure from licking a woman.

One hand disappears from around your thigh, and you guess it's one of his fingers that arrives, wide and thick, to tease your entrance. You can feel the smile on your folds as he slips it in, making you nearly jolt on the sheets. Your fingers instantly curl to tug that pale hair, to grab hold of something, and it makes him rumble inside you. 

He doesn’t even wait for you to catch your breath as he adds another finger. Goes shallow at first, then pushes those fingers in to the knuckle. The feeling of being filled - and not being filled enough - is going to drive you crazy any second now.

"Simon…"  

"Yeah?"

“I want you to… want you to…" you hear yourself choking on your beg as he works those fingers in and out of you while his lips are tight around your clit. He knows exactly what you're trying to ask.

And suddenly, it's he who breaks… 

"Right. 'M gonna fuck you now, yeah?"

The spread is gone, and you're being moved - on your belly, and you briefly think whether it's because he can't bear to look into your eyes when he takes you. You don’t even have time to whimper from the loss of his fingers and mouth before heavy thighs force your legs aside. You’re being spread again, crudely, obscenely, like it’s just a procedure that has to be done. He’s both methodical and impatient, and you wonder - has he wanted to rail you like this ever since he saw you? Force you to lie down on your belly while he takes you from behind like a helpless damsel?

His hands come to your hips as if to make sure that you won’t run away from under him. As if you ever wanted to… 

Something far fatter forces its way between your folds and straight onto your opening. He glides over your folds a few times, spreads your wetness all over his tip. Methodical still, but it makes you moan and swallow.

"Jesus…"

The lathering stops, the jutting cock settles right where your depths lie, and he chuckles. "Not quite, love."

Fuck… 

Fuck this man's cheek and audacity. Fuck his size and pride, the way he knows what he's doing all the fucking time. 

“Desperate for it?” 

That stupidly fat cock just resides there, teasing your aching, leaking hole without going in. But it’s like he answers his own question because you feel the thick of him give a notch against your folds. So impatient. Thoroughly needy. It sends you further down the whirpool of desire, a searing white, fathomless deep..

“Yes..”

When he goes in with a leaden grunt, your muscles go into a spasm - he's too big, he hasn't prepared you right, and still, you force yourself to relax.

"Not what you expected?" 

"It's… too much," you admit. He stops, realizing that for once in his life, he might've been an impatient man. Then he crawls forward, and you feel like you're about to be buried under a boulder as his weight bears down on you. Hands sink into the mattress on both sides of you, forcing you further up against him - you're floating, almost, to where you belong.

"Yeah? C'mon… You can take it."

You shudder. It's not even fully in yet?

He speaks too softly for it to be a demand, even when he's hovering on the brink of wanting to simply ram himself into your cunt. It's an encouragement. He’s cheering you on, like a coach. Or a leader... It’s leadership. 

When you don't object, he starts to feed more of himself in. You try to remember how to breathe because you were wrong, you were so, so wrong - it was barely just the tip, and now you're stretched wide and tight. He's endless, and sinking in deeper, deeper….

And you want it so much - all of him- you want to grip him and never let go. One hand comes to sweep over your hip again, it caresses the swell of your ass, and you know he's looking down at how well you can take him after all.

"How are we doin'?"

Your lips are swollen, and your brows are creased tight. It's still not in…? 

You’re fucked. Literally. But you can take him... You must.

You whimper when he slows down almost to a halt.

"Love. Tell me to stop 'n I'll stop."

"Just–gently," you whisper, brittle and shivering from joy.

"Don't worry. I got you."

Slowly, he arrives to the end of him and you. Hips flesh against yours, he’s out of breath before he even starts the thrusts. His length caresses places unfathomable in this position, and his weight is crushing you, even when he's supporting himself. It only feels like the safest place to be. Trapped there between your safe, soft bed and his safe, hard body. 

The first thrust punches the air out of your lungs. It doesn’t hurt, and it’s not uncomfortable; it’s just too much to take. You’ve never been so filled. 

"Fuck…" He swears, somewhere between the third or fourth thrust. "You're…"

"Good…?" You offer him when he doesn't continue. You know he was possibly going to say tight or something crude like that and corrected himself before it spilled. He merely grunts as an answer - a barbarian through and through, you decree. And then the brute speaks…

"The best."

God. You feel like a diamond after all, but you've never been under so much pressure, fearing you might break.

"You-too…" It's a sad little mewl. You sound like a child trying to make friends. Latching a hook on him, no matter how tiny it is. One shake, one ripple from the behemoth, and it will fall loose.

"Don't go lying with that pretty little mouth," he warns.

"I'm not lying."

"Yeah…? Keep squeezing me like that and perhaps I'll believe you."

It's a strange feeling, to meet your mistrust and jealousy on him. He has no pretenses, but he has secrets, camouflage, and flash grenades that blind you from the truth. But even he can't hide it all when he's moving inside you, so close, so terribly close.

You melt into a pool of heat and want, trying to meet him midway by offering your cunt, arching your spine, driving yourself up to give him better access. What was possibly meant as a desperate fuck turns into a sweet, weightless rocking, a rhythm of him and you. The hands on your hip start to gain weight as he holds you still for him, at times even pulls you against his cock.

"C'mon… wanna hear you," he huffs, then slides one hand to your butt and gives it a fond squeeze when you won't instantly make noise. "You're always givin' me that cheek and now you're silent?"

It's a warm question, a thick baritone that settles into your stomach, then shoots downwards and makes you clench. 

"Wh-what do you want me to say?"

"Want you to sing."

Of course the man who never talks won't shut up in bed. But he's not bullying you into submission, nor is he being mean. If anything, he sounds like he's finally on his knees. 

And you don't want to be mean either. Not anymore. But you just can't help yourself from having a little fun now that he's finally desperate and inside you. 

"Make me," you whisper, delivering your cheek with a wicked little smile.

The response is immediate: he dares to land a flat palm on your ass. Like you're a broodmare, a sirloin steak for him to feast on. And it does the job: you almost shriek, or at least that's how it sounds like when a parched little whine pushes through your vocal chords with violence.

"That's better," he barks, pleased with his work.

"You're horrible," you gasp. You're glad he put you face down on a pillow: you can only hope he doesn't see how happy you are in the darkness of his night.

"Yeah? And you're sweet." 

It's said with gravel wrapped in silk. It hits you and ignites, starts a flame inside you without permission.

You want him in ways you shouldn't. You want… more breakfasts, him carrying you up the stairs, taking in the way you tip-toe around the house in an old t-shirt. You want to serve him back rubs and tea and see who he is when he's not being paid. You don't want a lap dog or a guard dog, you simply want... 

Simon.

"I'm– I'm sorry that I've been such a bitch," you whisper. He sinks back on top of you until his nose nuzzles the back of your ear. He leans on his elbows, trying not to break you into too many little pieces, but the feeling of being confined couldn't be more blissful.

"Cock's that good?" He drags the following thrust, sparking your nerves aflame as he hits your core. But it's not brutal; if it is, it's the sweetest wrecking you could ever have imagined. 

"Don't make me take my words back," your lips pull to a smile and a silent, inner laugh. 

"Wouldn't dream of it." 

He's smiling too. Inwardly, perhaps, but you can hear the mirth. His weight on top of you while you're lying under him on your belly, unable to move, unable to do anything other than take the full brunt of his cock as it spreads you open, is pure heaven.

"Want you to cum when I'm inside you," he rasps in your ear, lips brushing the underside of your jaw. "Think you can do that, princess?"

Being told to cum on command is a bit ridiculous, you think. But not when it comes from that Cockney mouth. Not when he asks so nicely. Your cunt pulls, claws at him. 

"... I'll show you princess," you sigh, but it's only a second away from laughter. His fingers dig into your skin, the flush flesh of your ass. It feels possessive… Fond.

"Yeah. Show me. C'mon."

The camouflage gets slightly torn off by a wind of a smile. You can hear it on his lips. Sex should be fun, one of your friends always says. You had never thought about it like that. Bed is not the place for laughter and humor, you had thought. But now you are both on the brink of bursting with it.

"You're a fucking pretty one…" He grunts: a breathless, silent joy. "Know you want this as much as I do. Ain't that right?"

"Yes." 

"That's what I thought. So cum for me. Wanna hear the sounds you make."

You dance on the precipice already, and his voice causes your hand to shoot out to his. You drag that heated palm across your hips and your ribs, curl it next to you as if you were drawing a blanket over youself. It's a lover's caress, and his fingers slip between yours as he wraps around you like the protector that he is. 

Your walls flutter, the thickness inside you makes you swell with every thrust. His hips are relentless as he buries himself into you with blunt force, his flesh clapping against yours and making your cunt clamp down on him. Sweet, sweet, sweet, your blood sings as your lids drift closed. The wave is coming, the final tsunami that will sweep you with it, and you will only succumb with joy.

"Don't-stop," you hear yourself beg through the heavy pants he's grunting on your neck.

"'M not gonna stop," he grunts into your ear, serious now.

"Fuh–Fuck me good and… hard," you're hiccuping through dry tears. It feels like there's a hammer and an anvil placed between your ribs. "I need you hard-"

"Shit…"

You barely grasp that he's about to lose his precious control before the midnight sea takes you under. The world fades into a tight know of blue and white and black, electric, ambient, something soft and hot at the same time. You're choking on your tears, moaning into the pillow like a poor, broken, tortured cat. 

"That's fucking pretty," he swears on your neck as you cum. All humor is gone now, but he's not mocking you. He's just… emotional. The bulk of him rides you through the wave, but the rhythm of his hips becomes erratic. 

"That's it, pretty… I'm gonna…Fuck," he huffs on your skin, a mist of want, and the cockhead rubs something profound inside you and makes you jolt in the middle of your molten euphoria. He grunts, swears, and does it again - bludgeons so deep it forces out a sob, just before he breaks too with a choked, wet swallow and a groan. A trembling colossus, you think, as he thickens and bursts inside you.

You're an aching mess when he comes, his thighs pressing over yours and forcing them far and wide as he buries himself into you to the hilt. He's a behemoth, spasming and crumbling right above you. The broad abs bunch against your back while his hips pin you down and spread you open. The cock pulses inside you, and you are barely able to think how it's a miracle that both his thick flesh and the pool of cum, all of it, just somehow fits there inside you…

A gentle brute until the end, he swallows again, thick and breathless, before giving a few tight rolls of his hips, emptying himself to the last drop. Slowly, you both still inside your bubble of warm, dark blue, something akin to a sea between a tropical storm and a calm sunrise, a drowsy reef shifting with the waves. 

He's broken into a light sweat from the toil when he finally untangles your fingers. Your hips are kept in place with one hand as he slowly pulls out. You feel like you're left emptier than before, even if you feel the cum welling up inside, about to spill over.

Your bodyguard - your late-night fuck - collapses beside you, then reaches to pull you close again. Still back against his chest, still unable to look into your eyes when you're both vulnerable. 

"I'm gonna get you a towel," his fingers tremble as he caresses your arm with the most delicate touch. 

"No–don't, don't go," you whisper, then grab his hand and bring it back over you. You almost squeeze yourself with it. "Please?"

The tension behind your back decreases as he slowly falls back into bed.

"Alright love. I'll stay right here."

It's so peculiar how he reminds you of large water masses. A night sea under a pale moonlight. Not a stormy, roiling one, just a vast depth in an ever-swelling motion.

"I want… I need you to keep me safe," you whisper inside that swelling sea. You never want to come to the surface. You want to learn to breathe underwater. The heavy arm is draped over you; it covers nearly half of your chest as he sighs.

"Then let me do that."

His plea is not humble - nothing in this man is. He's not on one knee, swearing his allegiance and vowing to always protect you. He's not your Lancelot.

But in a way, his plea comes far too close to a beg. You feel a sting near your heart. It's electric, pure pain - the sweet kind, though, as you realize he doesn't only want to do his job… He wants to protect you. He has already tried his best to protect you while you run around like nothing is wrong. 

"Simon… I'm sorry."

"I already forgave you," he hums on your skin, evidently glad that you two finally understand each other. It should send you laughing, the thought that you needed his scars and his…treatment to find common ground. And free of charge, no less.

"Do you still wish you were somewhere warmer…?"

He bows his head against the nape of your neck, and the gush of air from his nose is warm and jovial. "No."

It's hours till dawn, but you wish it would never come. The beauty of the night is only now unfolding before you. It feels far more safe than the violent dawn. You wonder how he would react if you moaned his name as you cum. If he would shudder. You wonder what the hell is wrong with you that you didn't already do it...

"Simon…?"

"Mm..?"

"What happens now?"

There's a pause, but he doesn't shift for more comfort. Still, the bullet vests and battle gears are back on; you just sense it.

"We're gonna get some sleep."

"No, I meant… What does this mean for us?"

"What do you think it means?"

Now he shifts, but only to draw you closer. You feel like jello as he pulls your scent deep into his lungs, then exhales the grace on your skin like you're the only tobacco he needs after a good round of sex.

"Don't worry about it, princess," he murmurs on your skin. So delicately that you could claim this man has never even seen the army, never barked and shouted and smoked his throat dry. "We'll talk in the morning."

You settle into his sea, an embrace full of gentle, heavy safety. It's the sweetest oblivion to slip in as you begin a dreamless sleep, soft and snug. But it's not merciful enough to make you forget that you two… 

You never even kissed.

............................................

Taglist: @lialacleaf @cumikering @val-srz @glitterypirateduck @clear-your-mind-and-dream @milfs4lifee @regatoni1 @glossygreene @raf4el4 @xxmattyboixx @frozenballsack69 @gabygykss @chxrryp0p @sinnisterr @clairdelunelove @megumilover69 @littleobsessionsandlifeslessons @ayavaiia @thedevillovesflowers @tiny-kasper

[ldysmfrst]

American Mate (9) - Shadows of the Past (M)

Paring: Hybrid!BTS Ot7 x Plus-sized Human FemReader

Status: Ongoing series

Chapter number: 9 of unknown

Word count for Chapter: 10,985

Work count for Story: 56,267

Genre: Hybrid Playmate Au inspired by works created by @yoongiofmine

A little about the author: I am a mother of two beautiful children, one of whom has special needs and the other loves everyone. I currently am not working because of a broken foot. I started a Patreon, and I would be grateful if you donated to help me make ends meet while I am out of work.

Warnings: (I am not good at this, but I will try. Let me know if I missed anything!!) NOT BETA READ!! This story will have a bit of angst, fluff, smut, f/m, m/m, and m/f/m. This chapter does have pack dynamics, comfort, Alpha Space, Luna vibes, close proximity, multiple scenting, M/M mature scenes, good boy, and feisty Beta vibes.

SIDE NOTE: This is my first time writing second-base smut into a story. ��💜💜

This chapter has a mature scene between BTS members. If you want to avoid this scene, at the start and end of the spicy part of the scene, the following banner will be displayed:

BTS HYBRID ANIMAL TYPES: Seokjin - Roan Ferret, Yoongi - Black Jaguar, Hoseok - Marten, Namjoon - Alaskan Timber Wolf, Jimin - Red Panda, Taehyung - White Southwest African Tiger, Jungkook - Flemish Giant Rabbit

AMERICAN MATE MASTER LIST / LDYSMFRST MASTER LIST

“Genevie Rose Elisey,” You growl out her name, step forward, and pull out of Yoongi’s tail’s hold on you. All eyes snap to you—well, all eyes except the little omega, who drops her eyes and scrunches her nose at the twist of your scent.  You stalk forward and grip the back of her neck as if she were a kitten, scruffing her. Your scent has gone from sweet peas to something akin to lemons, almost acidic. The change in scent alerts your pack that you are not playing around.

However, the scent and display of Dominance causes a mix of reactions from the Alphas. Everyone here would be remiss in not recognizing who is in charge, which does something to them. Namjoon and the rest have seen you upset, but this… this is something else.

While the Prime Alpha is concerned about the Omega, not knowing what she had done to result in this type of reaction from you, he cannot pull his eyes away from how you hold yourself. It’s like you are taller and more assertive. 

Yoongi’s Alpha slams to the forefront when he sees you scruff the Omega. The feline mothering behaviors pull deeply at the primal aspect of the jaguar hybrid. His mind runs with thoughts of you scruffing cubs, but not just any cubs, his cubs. Shaking his head, Yoongi does his best to clear his mind and stay in the present; you are not his—yet.

Jimin is just lost. He has spent the least amount of time with you out of the Bangtan pack. He has mostly been observing you and your interactions with his already-bonded mates. This Dominant, in-charge side of you is new and instinctively intriguing.

“Luna, I only meant to ensure they understood,” Evie says softly, trying not to offend you further. When the hybrid pack title is used, the three Alphas exchange glances of shock before settling their sights on you.

“It is not your place to remind others of something that happened when you were present during the event. In private, between our pack members, you can defend, rant, rave, and threaten all you want to,” you look to Derek.

“Both of you have always been able to protect the pack in emergencies and express yourselves freely in the packhouse. However, I feel that you both may have lost where the line of respect is when it comes to individuals outside of the pack who hold importance,” you scold. “You both realize these three Alphas hold the key to my survival?”

“Luna, we do. Honest, we meant only to support our pack and defend you, our Luna, in your territory,” Derek says, bearing more of his neck in submission as the acidic smell consumes your sweetness.

Gesturing to the Alphas in the room, “If any of these three or their mates are offended…”

“One word,” your voice drops deep and gravelly.  “One word is all it takes from either of you, from me, and your Luna would be without a job, without a home. Then where would we be?”

Once your words are spoken, it takes a breath for both family pack members to shrink farther down in submission. Neither one had considered that you could be fired for something they did or didn’t do.

That is why you are the pack’s Luna. Typically, the Beta and Omega must deal with customers or clients who are Alphas, but they only have to deal with them for short amounts of time. Your contract with the Bangtan Pack was not going to be short. Realizing that they must treat the other pack as a pack, not a customer, dawns on them. 

More than ever, Derek wishes he understood why the Bangtan Pack took this path with you rather than the typical courting method. Maybe one day, he can find out.

“You will not threaten Alpha guests or ANY guest in our packhouse. I know you are protective of me, both of you are, but I am an adult and the Luna of this pack,” you move closer to the munchkin hybrid. 

“Thank you for your kind yet oversharing words, Omega. But you must apologize to them for planning to neuter them,” you demand.

“Luna Y/n,” Jimin calls your attention quickly. The sound of him using your family pack title pulls at something profound and instinctual within you.

“I think Your Omega is right, Luna,” says Jimin softly. “I think she is right about a few things.”

He pauses to collect his thoughts, which are running everywhere now that he has watched your eyes darken as you correct the misstep of your pack member and dilate at the use of the Luna title. His Alpha is coming forward for the first time since he has been in your presence. Jimin’s Alpha is watching you closely and is keenly interested.

“Respectfully, Luna, we are starting a mile behind because we never saw you coming. Not everyone in Bangtan Pack has connected to our Miss Y/n in the same way, which is no one's fault. It means that some of us, mainly me, have more than a mile to get things right,” comments Jimin.

“Jimin, you really...” You are cut off when Jimin gently takes your free hand and pulls you towards him, careful of the brace. Dropping the scruff on the munchkin hybrid, she backs away and curls into the Beta.

“Let me finish, Luna, please,” Jimin begs, to which you nod, your breath caught in your throat. “This whole situation, mates– playmates, came oddly, and we really should do things right by you.”

Taking your other hand, he says, “I want to do things right by you. I want to do the right things with you. I know you can’t smell our scents, but we meant what we said last night.”

“We all want to do things right by you, Princess,” says Yoongi supportively.

“Miss Y/n, I came here for a reason,” Jimin says as his thumbs rub gently over your knuckles. 

“I wanted to meet your family pack and reassure them that we are going to treat you right, take care of you like one of our own, spoil you silly, and support you endlessly,” he says shyly.

Quickly glancing at Namjoon, Jimin focuses back on you, “Each mate wants to spend a day with you—just you. We will take the time to be with you. So that we can learn who you are and show you who we really are.”

Your eyes are glassy, and your scent is losing some of the acid as he continues, “Will you grant us the honor to take you out? Allow us the pleasure of getting to know each other on a personal level, Luna?”

Looking between the three Alphas before you and then at your pack family, you found hopeful eyes and gentle smiles.  Settling your eyes back on the red panda hybrid, you answer, “Yes, I would like that.”

Namjoon and Evie stood in the kitchen. Evie cleaned up from baking the cookies, and Namjoon avoided everything as much as he could. This seemed to amuse Evie to no end. No animosity could be seen or smelt between the two.

Jimin took the time to speak with Derek while sitting on my bed. You were pretty sure that they were practically interviewing each other. That or Jimin was trying to learn more about you through your Beta. Derek looked like he was having a serious conversation and was concerned about what he was saying.

You, however, had gone out onto the small balcony to get some fresh air. Emotions running amok:

The shock of the unexpected guests.  The embarrassment of Evie’s declarations. The fear of retaliation from the Alphas for those same words.  The flutters of your heart at the reorganization of your status by Jimin. The ease of the kind words of the Alphas.

“Is there a reason why the pack Luna has come outside?” asks a voice as someone joins you outside.

“Yoongi,” you breathe out, trying to suppress a shudder at the use of your pack titles again. “I am sorting myself. So much has happened this week. I am not sure it has sunk in yet.”

Walking up behind you, he grips the railing on each side of you, effectively caging you in. Resting his chin on your shoulder, breathing in your scent as it has settled back into sweet pea and vanilla.

“Is there anything that can help?” he asks quietly.

“You three are not offended by Evie's words, right? Or by how I acted, even though I am not a hybrid?” You say, still looking over the street below.

A gentle scoff is heard before he answers, “Your feisty Omega thinks highly of her Luna; your Beta does as well. I am not sure you remember everything from the breakroom, but your Beta expressed similar concerns to us back then. Your pack is concerned for you, as any pack would be of their capable Luna.”

You chuckle softly, “Yes, that they are. They always have been. I feel like I am letting them down with my issues. Like I am not strong enough for the position they have given me.”

“They wouldn’t be able to follow you as their Luna if they didn’t trust you to lead them. Now, as far as your actions.” Yoongi’s voice deepens. 

His nose runs along the shell of your ear, leaving hot puffs as he breathes, “Your actions were a sight to see, Luna.”

Stepping closer to you, his hands resting on your hips and making your back flush with his front. His heat pours into you as you feel yourself instinctively relax slowly into him. 

“So, seeing a human do that wasn't offensive?” you ask, just to be sure.

“Offensive is not the word I would use for it,” Yoongi says. His tone sounds amused as he raises his hand, trailing it along your body, lightly covering your throat to grip your chin. 

Turning your face to his, he lets out a purr that vibrates your whole body. His nose runs along yours. “Intriguing, captivating, and alluring would be better words to describe how your actions made us feel.”

He scents your cheek with his as he whispers in your ear, “Did you think scruffing the young Omega feline would do nothing for my Alpha, Princess?”

Your mind runs scenarios through your head of what you would want him to do to you in response to your actions, such as Yoongi’s lips on your neck or his teeth leaving marks on your skin. Your breath becomes difficult as your body lightly shudders at his words. You try fighting your reaction the best you can, nails digging into your palm.

You want to lean into his touch more than you already have, but your mind screams that you can’t—not with the knowledge that he has mates, and some of those mates are just on the other side of the sliding glass door. 

“I didn’t… I wasn’t…” Finding your words is complicated when his scent of rain washes over you. In your mind, you keep chanting that the closeness means nothing; it’s a hybrid thing. 

No, this must be an Alpha hybrid thing. 

Alpha Hybrid thing.

“I know, Princess. You were being a proper Luna. Too bad Jungkookie isn’t here. I would like to see him hold back like the rest of us are,” he says, stepping back. His eyes are drawn to the glass door and his mates on the other side. 

“Hold back?” You question, turning around and following his gaze into your flat. Your eyes connect with those of Jimin’s.

“I think he would like a word in private with you, Princess,” Yoongi says as he goes inside without looking back. He harshly whispers something to Jimin, who nods with his eyes never leaving yours.

“Sorry to disturb your time with Yoongi-hyung, Luna. May I join you?” He asks while remaining inside the flat.

“Of course, Jimin. You weren’t… ah, you weren’t disturbing anything,” you smile softly, willing for the heat of whatever that was with Yoongi to go away with the breeze.

“Thank you, Luna.” You giggle at his use of your title, which causes Jimin to look confused. You wave your good hand in front of you as you smile brightly.

“You guys don’t need to call me Luna. They only use it when they are in trouble,” you explain, hoping to get him and the others to stop using it.

“Oh. Umm… I didn’t want to disrespect you in your packhouse. With your powerful display of strength and the level of respect and honor you require of your pack, I would only want to support that,” Jimin states as a matter of fact and not question.

“Thank you, Jimin.” Looking at him seriously, I say, “I hope none of you were offended. I know Yoongi said that none of you are but still.”

“No need to worry. None of us were offended,” confirms the red panda hybrid.  Jimin walks over to the railing and looks at the sky. “Do you want to know what Yoongi-hyung said to me?”

Moving to stand beside him respectfully, keeping your distance, you say, “Only if you feel comfortable telling me.” Your response pulls a soft smile from him.

“He told me; he demanded me to find a way to connect with you,” he says, taking a deep breath, allowing your vanilla mate and sweet pea scent to give him the strength to continue. His sweet orange scent started to mix with Yoongi’s rain.

“What did Manager Sejin tell you about our last Playmate? Did he say anything about how she left or what she said?” he asks, glancing over quickly.

Standing up straighter, the question catches you off guard, “He didn’t go into great detail. He did say that she was a permanent Playmate but found love in a human and broke her contract; however, she said some not-so-nice things.”

Smirking non-playfully, Jimin says, “That’s how the PR department told us to say it. We can say enough to answer questions but not enough to tell what really happened.”

After a few moments pass, Jimin turns to face you directly. You follow his lead, giving Jimin your full attention. Your soul is willing Jimin to find his calm and strength to continue. 

“Jimin, I would rather hear it directly from you or your mates if any of you wanted to share, but I am also satisfied with only knowing what I do,” you reassure him that silence on the topic is an option.

“Hobi and Yoongi-hyung never got along with any of the playmates. The rest of the pack could always get along with practically anyone. We should have known that something wasn’t right when Alpha Kook didn’t like her from the beginning. Even then, she was with us for about three years,” he begins.

“I think she was around for so long because of me. I grew attached to her deeper than anyone else did. I even took her home when we had some time off. My former owner and family pack were shocked that I brought home someone other than a mate with me,” Jimin says with disdain.

Looking around, Jimin’s eyes hold an element of guilt as he says, “We never did anything. I never cheated on Bangtan, but I still feel like a part of me fell for her in a way.”

“Not every mate is a soulmate like you and Bangtan are, Jimin,” you quietly add. 

He chuckles and shakes his head, “True. Hybrids do have packs with non-soulmate-bonded mates. Typically, these are caused by a strong connection with them, but again, it is rare, nearly unheard of, for that deep connection to be with a human.”

“Oh, I see. Evie and I are practically sisters, which I feel is a version of a soulmate. Then Derek came along, and I felt like I found a piece of me that I never knew was missing. Now, he is a member of the pack,” you comment, trying to find a way to explain what you mean.

“I thought she might be something like that with you,” you say, looking inside and watching your pack laughing with the other two Alphas.

“Oh no. The pack you have gathered, Luna, is one of a kind. I am in awe of the connection they have with you. You are different with them,” Jimin says with genuine awe.

“Different? Oh no. This is me.” You giggle, then add, “You have seen professional and pained versions of me. Honestly, I tend to react on instincts or gut feelings. I have no filter. I have a passion for my friends and family.”

Biting your bottom lip, you continue, “Genevie was right about what she said. I tend to put those things or people important to me before myself. I have always struggled with my mental health, but I am a total goof and geeky nerd. You will see; you all will.”

“I struggled with some depression back in 2018,” Jimin admits, bringing his attention back to you. “I was still struggling with it until, gosh… 2020.”

“Seul-ki, the Playmate, was contracted on January 17, 2019.” Sighing, Jimin continues, “Looking back, I think she knew the pack was not accepting her. She clung to me for security through my insecurities.”

Your heart breaks at his story. Stepping closer, you rest your hand on his arm, trying to offer any modicum of support, saying, “They say hindsight is 20/20, but that doesn’t mean what she did was right or that you didn’t mean something to her.”

Looking at your hand on his arm, a soft smile graces his face. After taking a few moments to be in the moment with you and accept your support, he places his hand on top of yours.

“That wasn’t the worst part,” Clearing his throat, wetting his now dry lips, he huffs before continuing. “I am unsure, but BigHit believes she might have broken her contract and shared private information. Seul-ki fell in love with a reporter from Dispatch. We think they met while he was tailing us like they always do.”

Pausing momentarily, Jimin swallows and adds, “To top it off, when she left, she said some things that tore at our souls. We, ah… we made her skin crawl when our animals would come out. It was disgusting to see such handsome men turn into such filthy animals.”

You quickly pull Jimin into a hug, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and your face buried in his neck. You are stunned by how hateful Seul-ki was to them.

Warm tears fall down your face and wet his neck, pulling a soft whine from him as he returns the hug. His arms wrap around your waist. You have always been emotional to others getting bullied because of your past.

“Sorry, Jimin. I am so sorry. Humans are mean and stupid. She shouldn’t have said that.  How can anyone say that? Something so barbaric,” you mumble into his neck. 

“It’s okay, Y/n,” Jimin says while rubbing soothing circles on your back. 

Leaning back, you wipe your face of the wet streaks, “You are so strong to come to PMS and look for another Playmate. Then you go and get stuck with me.”

“I know we take a risk when bringing in a playmate. I was finally trying to get past what happened,” he pauses, searching your eyes. “I wasn’t ready to find you, and I am sorry that I kept away from you, but my Alpha got scared of my mates' reaction to you.”

“Please don’t worry about me.,” you plead with tear-filled, caring eyes. “You can show me as much or as little of you without any negative consequences from me. You don’t have to get any closer to me than you want to.” 

It's then that you realize you are engulfing the poor red panda. Lowering your arms, you say, “I’m sorry,” and take a step back, only to be stopped by Jimin’s arms holding you tighter. “Jimin?”

“Just give us a second, please,” Jimin’s voice comes out as a rough whisper.

Relinquishing your attempt at distancing yourself, you rest your arms around his shoulders again and watch him map out every inch of your face. 

Being similar in height, you are eye to eye, allowing you to see his eyes' chestnut brown start to bleed through the whites and deepen into a darker reddish color.

Your breath catches in your throat, “Alpha Chim.”

A playful smile blooms on his face with a soft grunt, “Luna.”

The sound of your tiles coming from Alpha Chim feels like a wave of electricity falling over you, “Welcome to my packhouse, Alpha Chim.”. 

“Smell of Yoon,” says Alpha Chim with a smirk.

“Yes, Alpha Yoon was with me before you came out. He scented me before going inside with your Prime Alpha and the rest of my pack. Is that okay, Alpha?”

“Mate scent, okay,” he says, raising his hand and almost cupping your face. “May I?”

“Yes, Alpha Chim,” you reply, tilting your head to expose your neck and closing your eyes. You have never been so thankful for wearing the sweetheart peasant shirt.

Alpha Chim takes his time tracing your jawline and the outline of your ear. Then, as his fingers go down your neck to find your pulse point, he takes hold. He has a firm but comforting grip and massages your neck and shoulder. 

Now you can smell it, oranges. With Yoongi’s lingering scent, this is how you would envision the smell of an orchard full of ripe oranges after a spring shower.

After a moment, his hand drops, but before you can straighten, you feel him move again. This time, he brings his nose to scent your skin where his hand was—finding the blend of Yoongi, your, and his scent. 

His warm breaths on your skin snap your eyes open, only to find you now have an audience. Pushing the Alpha away from you, he slowly releases you as he notices your sights are behind him.

“Princess. Jimin-ah. It's about time we head back to Bangtan’s packhouse,” Yoongi says with a knowing smile. Namjoon is standing behind him, questioning eyes trained on Jimin.

You nod and look at the Alpha holding you, and you are met with chestnut eyes, “Jimin?”

“Got it, Hyung.” He says, dropping his hold on you altogether. His posture has gone slightly stiff, but you don’t know if it's because his scenting was interrupted or something else.

Evie had packed up the remaining cookies to be taken back to the rest of Bangtan. 

Derek and Jimin took your packed belongings to the waiting vans. 

Namjoon and Yoongi, clad in bucket hats and masks, went with you to talk with the manager about your absence. They were unwilling to let you do it alone, something about potential confrontation and protection.

The building manager was a gentle older man who always greeted everyone with a smile and wanted to share some treats when he had visitors.  Today, it was butterscotch chews, one of your favorites. 

After explaining the change in your job description and the requirement to be temporarily housed elsewhere, the manager said he would watch your flat. He also suggested that you put a temporary disruption of water, power, and gas utilities. 

After additional planning, Evie stayed behind to load your plants into her car to care for at her house. Jimin and Yoongi went in one van to head back to the Airbnb.

Namjoon, Derek, and you went in the other direction to take Derek home since he carpooled with Evie. You weren’t entirely sure why he couldn’t just carpool back, but maybe the plants taking up too much space in Evie’s car had something to do with it.

“Prime Alpha, how do you think your pack will handle the dating Y/n?” Derek asks bluntly.

Apparently, the plants had nothing to do with his persistent need to hitch a ride with you and the Prime Alpha. Internally, you groan at your pack's bluntness and wonder why they have taken an informal approach to the Bangtan pack. It's like they are testing, but you have no idea whether they are testing you or Bangtan.

“Derek!” you say, shocked. “They are not dates. They are outings to get to know each other. You know very well that they are a mate-bonded pack. You’re writing our contract!”

“Yes, I am well aware of your contract. I am also aware they left out their standard rut clause, and both sides still require a full physical with inclusive testing.” He responds, rolling his eyes, “but that doesn’t explain how they will react to their non-dating dates with you.”

“Mr. Gulley, I understand your concern for your Luna,” Namjoon interjects. “Spending time individually with our previous playmates was normal because that is what any playmate is for. We also go out in pairs or small groups for outings.”

Thinking momentarily, he continues, “The pack discussed it throughout today, and everyone is on the same page. We understand that some of us, such as Yoongi-hyung, have connected with your Luna on an instinctual level.”

“Others have expressed wanting that same level of connection with her,” he says, his eyes focused on you. “Jungkook, Seokjin-hyung, and now Jimin-ah have already started trying to connect. So far, no one has shown any signs of territorial dominance over your Luna.”

“Territorial dominance?” you ask.  Internally, you remind yourself not to melt at the continued use of your Luna title.

Derik answers, “Evie gave us a wonderful display today of how Omegas and Betas are protective of the pack or packhouse. However, Luna, imprinting or becoming territorial towards a single pack member, is common with Alphas. This can cause the remaining pack members to need permission to interact with the chosen member.”

“But I am not in their pack.” Looking at Namjoon, “I am not a member of your pack, Prime Alpha. Right?”

“Technically, you are not at this point. We cannot officially bring you into the pack, even as a temporary member, until the contract is finalized after your medical appointments,” Namjoon says, attempting to withhold his disdain for having you continue to think everything is temporary.

“Temporary pack member. You want me to be a temporary pack member. Are such things as temporary members? Can I be in two packs like that? What would I be in Bangtan Pack? I can’t be Luna to a pack of Alphas! Derek, what will happen to our pack?” you ask, starting to panic slightly because this is not what you expected.

“The family pack with Evie and I will remain with you as our Luna. Nothing will ever change that. We will always have a place for you. While you are busy with your other pack, the leader tends to fall to the next in line: me,” answers Derek.

“Are you okay with that? Evie and you fight like cats and dogs… well, cats and foxes. You are also an amazing Beta and always take good care of her. You took care of both of us when we needed it. You also have Mathew, who can help if needed, I suppose,” you ramble as your mind starts to try and solve fires that don’t even have fuel.

“Not to worry. I will be fine, Luna. Evie and I talked about it briefly when you were on the balcony. We will have dinner tomorrow with Mathew to settle a few things,” answers Derek with a smile.

“Okay, you can always call me, though. I am still here,” you reassure him. “When are my appointments and the final meeting to sign the contract?”

“Ah, yes,” Derek says, pulling out his phone. “Your medical appointment is tomorrow morning at 9:30 at the Bangtan Packhouse, and the contract signing is two days later at PMS, but the time hasn’t been confirmed yet.”

“Once the contract is completed with the Bangtan pack, you will gain access to the pack’s group and individual schedules. As to where you will fit within the pack dynamic, that is something you will have to feel out as the pack gets to know you and you to know them,” says Derek, ending this comment with a stern look at Namjoon.

“Oh, good… Y/l/n pack is settled, and time will tell with Bangtan pack,” you sarcastically summarize because you only solved half of your concerns. Leaning back, you look outside at the world speeding by. Your mind wonders how much this would work out over the next few weeks.  

Shaking his head, he says, “No, but I couldn’t… no, I didn’t want to stop.”

“What do you mean?” Yoongi asks with concern.

“I came with Namjoon-hyung to learn more about her,” explains Jimin. “I thought that being in her packhouse would be able to show me something. But the closer we got to her flat, the more restless my Alpha got.”

Jimin pauses to take a deep breath. “Then, when she went from Miss Y/n to Luna, I felt her energy, prowess, and dominance, which intrigued my Alpha. He kept pushing to call her Luna to see her reaction repeatedly.”

“The lemon of her scent when she was in her Luna mode mixed so well with my orange. Then add on her natural sweet pea, your petrichor, hyung’s leather, and the vanilla mate scent,” groans Jimin. “It was so much. I can’t describe it.”

“Oh no, I get that. Trust me. My Alpha and I both reacted to her ‘little’ show. That is why I followed her outside. We had to be near her, get my hands on her, scent her. It’s irritating that she doesn’t recognize the mate scent and bonds forming yet,” Yoongi reminisces. 

“But, Jimin-ah, what happened when the two of you were alone?” Yoongi asks, moving to the bench instead of the captain’s chair.

Once settled, Jimin lies down, his head in the older Alpha’s lap, “I told her about Seul-ki.”

A soft gasp of shock comes from Yoongi. Immediately, the younger alpha is covered in soft rain, followed by fingers running through his hair.

“She cried for us. She apologized for what Seul-ki did. She promised I could stay away, and she would be okay with it,” Jimin says softly. 

The weight of your words made his chest tight, “My Alpha came out and scented her, Hyung. He accepted her declarations but got skittish when you came to get us.”

“Sorry to have interrupted that moment for you, Minnie,” apologized the jaguar hybrid. “I know it's been a while since your Alpha has initiated scenting with anyone.”

“I don’t understand it, hyung,” whines Jimin. “It’s like… my heart is everywhere, and my mind is trying to keep up after staying away.” 

Yoongi watches the silent tears start to fall from his mate's eyes. Hooking a hand under Jimin’s neck and lifting, Yoongi leans down and softly kisses away the tears.

Jimin’s eyes flutter at the feeling of Yoongi’s lips on his skin. The jaguar's soft purr is heard as his kisses start covering the younger mate’s face. 

Opening his eyes, Jimin cups Yoongi’s face, which pauses his kisses. “Yoongi-hyung, please.”

“I got you, my Minnie love,” Yoongi says as he leans down, lightly brushing his lips over Jimin’s.

A soft whine leaves Jimin before he moves to be more in Yoongi’s lap. His knees are curled against the back of the bench seat, and he is chest-to-chest with the jaguar. Yoongi continues to leave almost phantom kisses on Jimin’s lips. 

Once settled, Jimin rests one hand on Yoongi’s chest, his other hand sliding around to the back of Yoongi’s head with another whine.

“What is it you want, my Minnie love? Use your words,” Yoongi teases with a slight nip to Jimin’s lower lip. 

“Alpha, help settle my… my everything. Mate, Alpha, kiss me, please,” Jimin begs, gripping the older Alpha with both hands.

“Hmm, there is my good boy,” Yoongi smiles, tightening his grip on Jimin’s neck and securing his other hand on the younger man’s thigh. 

Jimin instinctually tenses. After all, he is still an Alpha, and being trapped isn’t normal.  Breathing in for a few seconds, Jimin connects with their personal mate bond. It is almost instantaneous, and the younger man sighs in relief and relaxes into the security his mate’s hold provides.

Once that change happens, Yoongi kisses Jimin, grounding Jimin’s thoughts and feelings away from what has happened in the last week, bringing him to the here and now. 

Yoongi’s scent fills Jimin’s every breath.

Yoongi’s body heat penetrates Jimin’s very core.

Yoongi’s mouth pulls to be Jimin’s sole focus. 

Yoongi matches the intensity of the kiss and attempts to follow erratic Jimin's pace. As turned on as he was at Y/n’s display as Luna, he knows this is not about him.

When Jimin licks at the seam of Yoongi’s mouth, he immediately gives in, allowing the young Alpha to explore and try to find some form of control. Jimin's taste is beautiful, and the feel of his tongue tangling with Yoongi’s is mesmerizing.

However, Jimin doesn’t want to be in charge. He wants the older Alpha to put him in his place. So, he changes tactics, sucking not so gently on Yoongi’s tongue, pulling a groan from the older mate. With that delicious sound, Jimin knows he won't stay passive much longer. 

After seven years of learning the meaning behind every noise, scent change, and muscle movement, playing each other like a fiddle isn't hard. 

One more harsh suck of Yoongi’s tongue, matched with a tug of his hair, causes the elder Alpha’s hands to grip tightly, and his hips jerk up, aching for some friction.

Pulling away from Yoongi, Jimin says in a sultry voice, “Something wrong, Alpha?”

“No, but I think you might want to ask yourself that,” Yoongi smirks. Quickly, he uses the grip on his neck to angle Jimin’s body to lay across his lap, with his back resting against the side of the van.

Confusion furrows Jimin’s brow, “What do you…Ahhh!” Jimin’s thoughts are cut off at the feel of Yoongi palming his growing erection. 

Cupping Jimin’s length through his tight, dancing pants, Yoongi slowly moves his hand up and down. Relishing every twitch of the younger mate’s member.  

When God created Jimin as a short man, it was because someone added inches to the wrong leg. Out of the mates, Jimin was unmatched in length. 

Paying attention with a tighter grip at the head, “What was that, Minnie?”

“Alpha... Ahh... aaalphha,” whines Jimin as he starts to rut into Yoongi’s hand. M…mooore please, Alpha.” Any dominance or control the younger mate thought he had from before was lost in the waves of pleasure Yoongi granted Jimin.

Glancing out the dark-tinted windows, Yoongi is starting to recognize some of the surroundings, meaning they are close to the packhouse. “You think you can finish before we get to the packhouse, Minnie? Will you be a good boy and give me your release?”

“Yes, yes, Alpha. Please let me, Alpha. I’m a good boy, please,” whines Jimin.

“Mmm… I do love it when you are my good boy. Asking so politely,” Yoongi says as quickens his speed, which causes the red panda to groan unapologetically. 

The graceful bend of his cock barely keeps the young mate's impressive length below his waistband. A damp spot starts to form on Jimin’s pants from the pre-cum steadily leaking out. 

The sight is making Yoongi’s mouth water. Seokjin may have an oral fixation, but it was Yoongi with tongue technology. The jaguar hybrid’s textured tongue was a bonus for his mates when his desire to drink them dry took over. 

A brief moan escapes Yoongi at the thought of what you would taste like and how you would react to the feel of his tongue on your skin and in your various depths. A high-pitched whine from the panda in his lap brings Yoongi back to his current task.

Changing his rhythms, Yoongi brings Jimin closer to his goal, their aroused scent growing thick in the air. Yoongi makes a note to compensate the driver for his discretion and for taking an extra-long route back.  

Slipping his hand down to play with Jimin’s taught balls. “Ohh, Minnie,” coos Yoongi as he squeezes them.  “My good boy is sooo heavy. You’re so full. Have you been saving it for me? Hmm, my good boy?”

While Yoongi may be playing the young Alpha’s body like a pro, it’s Yoongi’s words that bring Jimin into a headspace of comfort and grounding. Purring the words out, Yoongi says, “Good boy. Such a good boy for me. Saving everything for me. How I wish to swallow you all up, but that will have to be for another time.”

Glancing up one more time, Yoongi can see the packhouse gate. With a firm squeeze, Yoongi palms Jimin with a tempo fast enough that Jimin can only go along for the ride. His muscles strain to hold on just a little longer as the coil in his abdomen winds tighter.

His whines and pleas are like music to Yoongi’s ears as variations of Alpha, too much, don’t stop, good boy, and please fire off in random order from Jimin. His body is taught as he holds on for dear life, curling into himself as he builds higher and higher.

Yoongi solely focuses on the pleasure displayed on Jimin’s face. He encourages the red panda to lose himself in the heat of the moment, praises him for being such a good boy, and always reminds the young mate that Yoongi has him. 

At the sound of silence followed by a gasp, Yoongi knows Jimin is right there, waiting for his Alpha like a good boy.

Tilting Jimin’s head back and into his shoulder, Yoongi growls one command before biting over Jimin’s mating mark, “Cum.”

The reaction is immediate and without thought. Jimin lets out a high-pitched whine with his back bowed as he gives Yoongi his release. Rutting against the older man’s palm, he rides out his high, giving everything to the older mate as a good boy should. 

“Look at you. Such a good, messy boy cumming for me,” Yoongi says, his eyes now admiring the sizable dark patch showing on Jimin’s pants. “I think you deserve a reward for being such a good boy. Don’t you agree, my Minnie love?”

“Yes, please. Good boy for Alpha.” Jimin huffs between breaths, his unfocused eyes searching Yoongi’s face for what to do next.

Namjoon may be the Prime Alpha, but Yoongi was one of the Dominants in the pack when it came to different forms of pleasure. Yoongi has set rewards and aftercare requirements for all his mates.

“When we finish parking, you will wait for your reward in my den. Understood?” instructs Yoongi softly, running his hands over Jimin’s thigh and massaging his neck.  

“Yes, Alpha,” breathes out the younger mate, still aching for more.

The food smelled divine but spicy, which worried you because spice was definitely not your thing. However, you were reassured that only a little over half of the food was spicy because Taehyung couldn’t handle spiciness either.

Once at the packhouse, Seokjin helped Namjoon bring your bags and dinner inside, allowing you to carry only your purse. You were surprised that Yoongi or Jungkook were not waiting for you. You need to get used to not monopolizing their time starting now. By reminding yourself that they have a house full of mates who also need some of their attention, you attempt to push any negative feelings away.

Going into what would officially be your room by the end of the week, you looked around and imagined what you would do with it. It’s not like it's permanent-permanent, but still, having a plant or some books. Maybe photos of your pack would be lovely.

Agh, first you have to do something with the bed. You were given a lot of pillows and blankets, but they were piled in various ways. It would be what your mom would call “a down-right mess.” Letting out a deep sigh of sadness, you started to rearrange everything.  Putting things back into what would be considered a proper bed by laying the pillows at the top and smoothing the blankets as flat as possible with one good hand.

Growing up in a family that insisted on perfection, you always hated making your bed in the mornings. However, keeping your room clean and having a 5-star hotel-looking bed helped overshadow some of your shortcomings. 

Your friends in Colorado were always impressed with your cleanliness, which was a point of pride and joy for your mother. One of the few things your mother would praise you about was a spotless bed and awards from horseback riding competitions. 

Once you moved to California, Evie and her siblings never understood why your mother would yell about your bedding habits. You always tried to brush it off and avoided having sleepovers at your place because of it. 

“Y/n?” The sound of your name being called pulls you from your thoughts as you look at the doorway to find Hoseok.

“Hi, Hoseok-ssi. Did you have a good day today?” you ask, pulling the duvet just an inch farther down.

“Hi. Yeah. Just got some new things this Airbnb didn’t have for the pack.” Looking around you with concern, he questions, “Are you going somewhere?”

“Umm… no, well, the dining room in a moment,” you answer, looking around to ensure you are done.

Standing and walking to him, you say, “I think Jin and Prime Alpha should have everything set out by now. We stopped for takeout at JinCook, a local Korean restaurant that is nearby.”

Even though you walk closer to him, his eyes stay focused on your bed causing you to attempt to explain why it looks as it does, “I'm sorry my bed is still messy. Making it with only one hand is harder than one would think. I would have made it this morning but was in a rush.”

“I am not… it’s not… it’s well made. You make a bed better than half the people I know, but why? It's already getting darker outside, and you will be sleeping soon,” he asks, his eyes finally looking at you.

“Mother always said, ‘If you make your bed every morning, you will have accomplished the first task of the day, and if you cannot do the little things, then you can never do the things worth being recognized for,’” you recite the words that have been ingrained in you for years.

Hoseok’s confusion shows plainly on his face as he clarifies, “Your mother said that? She made you break down… I mean, remake your bed every day?”

“Yep, and I would be in trouble if I didn’t. There’s nothing wrong with making your bed and keeping a clean house, Hoseok,” you pat his arm and move past him, heading to the dining room. 

Hoseok remains in the doorway. Glaring at the bed and processing what you said.  Soon, the smell of cherries grows more substantial, “Jin.”

“Hello, Hoba,” he stops, glancing over Hoseok’s shoulder, “Where is Y/n?”

“She went to the dining room, but look,” he moves to the side, allowing the eldest mate to look at your room.

Looking in, Seokjin smiles. He sees that you used the travel gear he left for you, and it pleases his Alpha to provide something. 

His eyes then travel to your bed, smile dropping, “Her nest.”

“She tore it down, Hyung. I caught her trying to fold corners with one hand, and then she apologized for it still being messy,” Hoseok says, his voice hushing with astonishment.

“What? First off, she needs to teach me how to make those corners, but more importantly, why?” he comments and asks as he walks farther into the room. 

“Jin! Hoseok! Jimin! Yoongi! Jungkook! The food will get cold,” you yell from the dining room. 

They look towards the dining room as Seokjin says,  “She knows about nests. She told me last night when we helped gather materials. She kept saying she was making a blanket fort or human nest.”

“Namjoon said there was an interesting interaction at her packhouse, and she asked Yoon and Minnie if they were offended by what she did because she was human,” adds the eldest.

“What did she do?” Hoseok asks, turning his attention back to his mate in the room. 

“I didn’t get details other than she proved why she is the head of her pack. Well, that and she has a feisty Omega,” Seokjin informs Hoseok. 

Looking back at the hotel-ready bed, Hoseok asks, “She may know what it is, but does she understand what it means to us? Or that we would be okay with her keeping it? Rather, we would want her to keep it, right?”

Taking Hoseok’s hand and gently kissing the back, Seokjin leads Hoseok toward the dining room, saying, “Of course, she could keep it. I don't know what she knows about nests, but I did mention that she should build one with Jimin.”

Hoseok stops abruptly with a gasp. Hurrying back to your room, he shuts the door while glancing at the stairs, “Jin-hyung, could you imagine how Jimin would react to seeing her nest gone?!?”

“Even though he didn’t say anything, he looked happy to see her have one when he saw it after he got home from dance practice. It's something to connect with her around,” Hoseok says, rejoining Jin. “Her nest and the inclusion of the pack are what made him confident about seeing her this afternoon.”

“Oh, yeah, no. He doesn’t need to see that she broke it down,” Jin agrees.

The boys find their seats and start to dig in. Shortly after, the remaining three joined the table with wet hair and looked ready for bed. You note they all look still pink from their showers and wonder how hot they take them. 

Dinner was yummy, all thanks to your non-spicy companion sitting next to you. Taehyung saved you more than once from eating something that you were sure would equal the death of your stomach.

Conversations were more manageable than yesterday. Everyone seems to talk around or over others. They randomly jump from topic to topic. It’s a bit of chaos, but they are mates, and it feels oddly domestic.

Not once did you feel unable to keep up. However, after you yawned for the “millionth time,” according to Yoongi, you were ushered off to bed. You knew the boys had to be tired, but they all seemed far from ready to sleep. 

You crawl into bed after changing and using the skincare products left in your bathroom. You spend the next few minutes pushing, pulling, stuffing, and rebuilding your little blanket fort. 

This time, you try out Jimin’s body pillow, Taehyung’s blanket, and Hoseok’s pillow, even though you really want to use the ones left by Yoongi and Jungkook. You figure that this would be the first small step to pay attention to them equally. 

It's not professional to have favorites, right?

“I guess a pack meeting is in order for a few reasons,” Namjoon starts. 

“A few reasons? That is one way to put it,” Jungkook chuckles, his eyes roaming over to Yoongi and Jimin before settling back on the Prime Alpha. 

“I will let Yoongi explain Y/n’s living situation first. Then, we will discuss how things went with her family pack, answer any questions, and make any necessary plans. Yoongi-hyung?”

All eyes shift to the jaguar, stoic-faced as ever, weighing how to explain anything that has happened today.

“Well, Y/n lives closer to PMS in the Downtown LA area with rather high crime rates. My Alpha is not happy about that. Her building doesn’t have any gates or locks to get into the building,” Yoongi starts with the most concerning part of the visit for him as your protector. 

“Even though she lives on one of the upper levels, she only has a simple deadbolt and thin chain to keep herself safe,” he adds. Sounds of displeasure rise in the room, but they are still respectful to you sleeping nearby.

“When I went to drop her off, she wouldn’t let me in her flat. She mentioned a nearby place she frequents for coffee, tea, and food. It’s really a gem of a place and could easily grow with the right guidance, but that isn’t the issue,” he continued.

“If it’s a gem, why is there an issue, Hyung?” asks Taehyung, who was thinking of ways to help the business before the crypticness of Yoongi’s comment set in.

“Carlo, a domestic Mexican dog Hybrid, runs it. He said his hybrid side is called a Chamuco. Anyway, he runs the kitchen and handles the café’s shipment needs. He is happily mated to his wife, and they are waiting for their second litter.” 

The pack smiles at the happy news, but their faces still show confusion about where the issue is.

“His business partner, Payu, is a Thai human infatuated with Y/n. He got defensive with me regarding her, especially when I couldn’t explain my intentions or who I was,” Yoongi tries to tell his mates without a hiss. 

“She is a lovely person. I am not surprised that she has admirers, and it’s nice that she has someone looking out for her. His crush will fade eventually,” Seokjin comments, still confused about why it’s a problem.

“No, Hyung. He told me he planned to ask her out the next time she stopped by the café,” informs Yoongi, stressing how soon things may get even more complicated.

“She lives here now, so going to that specific cafe will and can be hard. We need to make sure to avoid the area and keep this potential event from happening. Send its location to the pack chat, Yoongi,” Namjoon instructs, giving no more for discussion.

Nodding at the order, Yoongi just sends a Google link showing the address, hours, and photos of the two owners in front of the business doors. 

“I know we all want to keep her safe, which we can while she is here, but we cannot do anything right now about her flat being where it is. However, it is rather small for a packhouse,” Namjoon continues.

“Yeah, I am pretty sure that the whole flat could fit in the living room here,” Jimin comments. 

“Seriously?” Hoseok exclaims but is quickly hushed by the other pack members. “Sorry. How does she have the basics needed for survival in a small place? You said it was the packhouse, too?”

“Yeah, her family pack would refer to it as the packhouse. It haaaas enough to get by, I guess,” Jimin shrugs. 

“I spoke with her, Beta, that fox hybrid from her work,” he says, looking around and making sure everyone remembers whom he is talking about. “He says that the packhouse moved there about two years ago, and about a month after she accepted him to the pack.

“Who accepted him to the pack?” Jungkook asks, his ears standing tall, and he starts thinking of how to impress the Alpha of your pack. 

With a smile remembering the moment in the flat when the pack dynamics took over, Jimin looks directly at the youngest Alpha, “Their Luna, Y/n.”

Jungkook’s bunny ears drop at this newest information, “Luna Y/n… Y/n is the Pack Luna… like the head of the pack is our human mate Y/n?”

Namjoon, Yoongi, and Jimin nod as they watch the rest of the pack process the information. 

Seokjin and Hoseok seem shocked, but this makes sense, given how you have behaved around them thus far. However, they still wonder why you keep getting shocked at some of their Alpha behaviors, as you act as the female equivalent of an Alpha in your pack. Wouldn’t you know these things already?

Jungkook, on the other hand, is going through so many emotions. His mind is filled with images of him scenting you, his mate, who is also a Luna. God, if he had known that last night… 

“Does she acknowledge herself as Luna, or is it like an honorary or teasing title between friends?” Jungkook asks, his face almost as stoic as Yoongi’s, “Hyungs, please be serious. Honestly, is she a Luna?”

Clearing his throat, Yoongi leans forward with a smirk, “Put it this way… After her Omega decided to threaten the pack with being neutered, Luna Y/n scruffed the Omegan cat to remind her of her place in front of everyone.”

The tension rises as the thought of you holding any power intrigues and entices each of them in different ways. Most of their minds wander on different ways of getting you to use that power with or around them in different situations. 

On the other hand, some want you to relinquish that power and control, allowing them to dominate your every sense, getting you to relax fully into their Alphas, and accepting the safety they will provide you. 

“In the heat of the moment, she is by all means ‘Luna Y/n’ with no questions asked,” Jimin interjects. “However, when I called her Luna, she became flustered and was concerned about her and her Omega offending us.”

“Let's just say Y/n has had to do many things and has become skilled in ways that most humans wouldn’t even try properly. She certainly doesn’t abuse that power like some more dominant humans would do.  Though, I am not convinced that even Y/n knows where she stands in the overall scheme of things,” the Prime Alpha comments.

Looking at each of his mates, Namjoon says, “I spoke with her Omega. I learned a decent amount about Y/n interactions with Mrs. Genevie’s family pack. What concerned me was Genevie explaining that Y/n took to the pack quickly, almost like she was an orphan or a stray.”

“An orphan?” questions Seokjin. “What about her mother or father?”

Namjoon’s face fell, “After talking with both members of her pack, I only learned that she came to California with her mom and brother. Her mom made sure she never talked about her father or that side of the family.”

Seokjin and Hoseok share a look, both remembering what you did to your nest.

“I think her mom was quite controlling and…” Seokjin pauses, looking at Jimin. “And I think she has something against hybrids. Which doesn’t make sense because Y/n’s mom allowed her to be friends and interact with her Omega’s family pack.”

“Why are you looking at me? Why do you say that, Hyung?” Jimin asks, scooting forward in his chair. His orange scent is curled with worry. His eyes look between the two older mates as they share his concern.

“We all saw she made a nest with our things either this morning when some of you peeked in to check on her or when you returned earlier today. Before she came in here, I was talking with her, and well… she made her bed,” Hoseok says with his eyes never leaving Jimin. 

“Wha…What do you mean?” Jimin pushes.

“I mean, she tore down her ‘blanket fort.’ Put our extra materials at the foot of the bed, and it looked the same as when we arrived for the very first time,” Hoseok explains. 

“She didn’t break it down because she wanted to. She broke it down because her mother drilled it into her to do so—to the point that she would get into trouble if she didn’t,” adds Seokjin while slightly glaring at Hoseok.

Jimin stands and paces behind his mates' chairs. He is trying to keep the memories at bay—the memories of his former owners—the voices of his former owners scolding him, the feeling of worthlessness, and the sounds of flesh beating into flesh. Did you live like that, too? Were you raised to be someone who you really are not, just like him?

Most hybrids were purchased or raised by the small percent of the world who had more money than they knew what to do with. Jimin’s mother was pregnant with him when she was bought. After he was born, they trained him to be a showpiece.

They thought that because he was male and a type of bear, that automatically made him a strong and studly Alpha. 

As a young boy, Jimin was soft and cuddly. He learned to build nests from his Omega mother but had to hide them. If their owners saw him build or sleep in a nest, they would tear it down and beat him.

After he presented as an Alpha, they would lash out at him if he displayed any non-Alpha behaviors, such as scenting, cuddling, purring, and even denning, which is the Alpha equivalent of nesting. However, the stupid humans didn’t know any different or care to find out.

When they attempted to breed her again, Jimin’s mother was too old to carry cubs. It wasn’t long after he presented as an Alpha that his mother passed away due to complications with the forced pregnancy. The owners didn’t care. All they knew was that she was a sow that had successfully had other cubs, so why not more?

Once his mother passed, Jimin shut down. No longer having the warmth of his mother, he withdrew into himself and became the perfect Alpha for his owners. He was the perfect gentleman at events and the amazingly attentive ‘toy’ for their close friends, male or female. 

Jimin only felt like himself when they went to extravagant galas, and they would make him dance with anyone willing to spend money. He would lose himself in the music. 

It wasn’t until his owner’s best friend mentioned how Jimin’s flexibility and graceful movements would look beautiful on stage that he found some form of reprieve. 

That reprieve came in the form of schooling. His owners sent him to a performing arts University to learn several dance, writing, and singing styles. The goal was to find more ways to make money off Jimin. More skills meant more money.

During this time, a scout approached him and asked if he was interested in becoming an idol. After some planning, Jimin jumped at the chance to be an Idol because it would allow him to escape his owners and find his freedom. 

Luckily for him, not only did he find his freedom, he found his mates. 

It took Jimin and Taehyung about 15 minutes to build up to an acceptable nest by using some of the new bedding that Hoseok had gotten to replace what they had given you. Most of that was spent trying to get their scents to stick to the new bedding before shoving it all on the bed in a half-assed way because everyone was exhausted.

Seokjin lay against the far wall under the large panoramic window. Jimin pressed his back into his front. Finishing the Jimin sandwich was Yoongi. Seokjin and Yoongi wrapped their arms around Jimin to ground him to the present. Both older Alphas saw the shadows of the past haunt their precious panda’s face and wanted to offer solace for him.

Jungkook and Taehyung were cuddled together on Yoongi's side. The former became the latter’s pillow for the night. Taehyung curled an arm around the bunny, and the other hand was tucked into Yoongi’s hair, absent-mindedly scratching his scalp behind his ears. 

Hoseok smiled at his mates, already hearing soft snores from a few but noting that the Prime Alpha had not yet joined. Listening through the house, he could hear movement down the hall.

Softly closing the door to the pack nest, Hoseok went to find the missing Alpha. It didn’t take long to find him as he was pacing the dining room and kitchen. His eyebrows furrowed, his tail hanging low, almost touching the ground, and he seemed to be in his own dark world. 

“Prime Alpha?” Hoseok calls softly, trying not to startle his leader. 

The calling of his title snaps Namjoon out of his thoughts, “Hoseok-hyung, why are you still up?” 

“I could ask you the same thing,” he responds, walking closer to him. The Prime Alpha’s faint leather scent tells Hoseok more than enough. Closing the distance, the marten pulls his wolf mate into a tight hug.

Melting into the hold of his mate, Namjoon breathes in his lilac and vanilla scent. Allowing the presence of the pack’s sunshine mate, as they call him, to calm the racing and running of Namjoon’s mind into something more manageable. “Are we doing the right thing by Y/n?”

“Oh, Joonie. I know I was harsh, and the pack didn’t respond well to your idea, but I think it was the only way you thought would help us keep her,” comments Hoseok, rubbing his back in comforting circles. 

“I believe the mate bond is starting to work magic, Joon. She may be human, but she isn’t immune to it. Remember last year you read all those studies?” Hoseok questioned.

At Namjoon’s nod, Hoseok continued, “I remember. You were so interested in the results. They showed that humans can respond to the bond as strongly as a hybrid but take a while to recognize it.”

“She won’t be mad that we are lying to her? That we are doing all of this with alternative intentions? That I am a horrible Prime Alpha because I didn’t act on the bond right away?” Namjoon asks rapidly. 

“Joonie… Joon…” Hoseok tries to interrupt, “Alpha!” The title again stops Namjoon from continuing to spiral. Pulling back from the hug, Namjoon looks at Hoseok with his eyes, searching for answers that he knows only Y/n holds. 

“Prime Alpha, Namjoon, our wolfie,” Hoseok coos. “Y/n may be all those or none of these. Just know she is also kind. She seems to be just as insecure about everything as we are.”

Namjoon’s eyes focus again on something Hoseok cannot see, “I want to talk with her family pack again without Y/n. At least I would like to let them know she is our mate. Maybe they can help us.”

“That is a brilliant idea, Joon!” smiles Hoseok. 

“Maybe we should all meet with them, just me or a few of us?” Namjoon asks as his focus returns to the mate in his arms. 

“Well, tomorrow, Jin-hyung has a plan for y/n. He wants to start the one-on-one dates and has already ensured his schedule was cleared. So maybe something with you and Yoongi-hyung?”

“That is a good idea. I am glad Seokjin is going to start the dates. He always has a level head when bringing mates into the fold. Unlike me, my muddled mind and Kookie wanting to jump right into things,” chuckles Namjoon. Taking Hoseok’s hand, the two start walking to the pack nest, and Namjoon adds, “I think tomorrow, I will let the rest of the pack know and ask who wants to join me.”

“Sounds great, Alpha. Now let’s go to bed,” agrees Hoseok as he opens the door and leads the Pack Alpha into the nest.

Glancing over the nest, seeing each of his mates with soft features of sleep gracing their features makes love in Namjoon’s heart blossom. He always wanted to be the Pack Alpha, and then when it was apparent all his mates were also Alphas, it was an honor to be recognized as their Prime Alpha.  Joining the Alpha pile in the pack nest, his leather and vanilla scent returns in full as he relaxes.

Focusing on the partly open door, the smell of Sweetpea blows in, mixing with Hoseok’s lilac, Jungkook’s snickerdoodle, Taehyung’s ebony, Yoongi’s petrichor, Jimin’s oranges, Seokjin’s cherries, and all with the rich undertone of vanilla. 

The scents reminded the Prime Alpha that his mates were at least safe in the packhouse. Namjoon sighed, his body succumbing to sleep while his Alpha settled, a bit more at ease now with the plan that had been made.  

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[simpee9000]

Not Just Friends - Prologue -

Based off this blurb + Fem Reader : Not edited : 3.2k Words : Full M.List

Childhood best friends turned into something more, at least with the label. Katsuki Bakugo, a fast-rising hero and fast-learning guy who is ever so slow in getting attached to and loving someone. Even three long years into a relationship, and your friends even forget you're even dating. Nothing happening, spare a few kisses.. like 3 kisses, during high school. Graduated and living together, and you guys have done absolutely nothing to further the relationship. Are you sure you're not just friends? (this is just a prologue, all chapters will have a different writing style) CW: Smut, brief domestic violence discussion, virginity loss, gore with pro hero stuff (lmk if i missed any) (applies to all chapters regardless if it's discussed or not)

Bakugo, or to you, Katsuki has been a huge figure in your life. Probably the biggest motivator as well. There since you were young and immature, running around in random neon clothes your mom let you wear after your 4-year-old self argued with her for half an hour.

You were the third addition to Katsuki and Izuku's friendship. Butting in on their rivalry often. Defending Izuku while shooting Katsuki a nasty glare. Helping Izuku with his bruises but also helping Katsuki with his, if he ever got any. You stuck to either boy's side, depending on who you saw first. Which, more often than not, was Katsuki. But you left his side whenever he picked on Izuku. Helping Izuku's muddy self get out of the river before considering Katsuki. 

That was in elementary school though, in junior high you stayed a balanced friend between the two. Stopping fights between the two boys, scolding the blonde boy every time. Yet you helped him clean up any time he picked a fight with anyone else. Wrapping up his bloody knuckles any time he needed, either from too much training or him being an asshole. You look back fondly on those times. Any time you so much as touched him, he sparked up, hands shooting out small explosions as he blushed. He felt bad obviously, but he was a preteen going through puberty and a pretty girl was touching him, what did you expect? He grimaced at every 'ow' that left your lips after he sparked up with your hand caring in his. He grew into his quirk and his control. So once the first year of high school hit, he was okay with small touches from you.

Thinking back on it, it was surprising he was okay with you, quirk-wise. He always gave Izuku hell for it, but never you. Maybe it's because you didn't have the drive to be a hero, wanting to stick to doing the sideline work of being a support tech. You weren't quirkless, but until the first year of junior high, you thought you were. Not having a flashy quirk or even a showing quirk at all. Only finding out because you've always aced every test and had an incredible academic ability. After a few too many recommendations of sped-up courses, did your parents take you to the doctor. Seeing that you did in fact have a quirk. Hyper-intelligence. You were basically a genius with an insanely good memory. It was an odd mutation of your parent's quirks. Your mom was able to remember everything she read and your dad was able to see the composition of anything he saw.

So along with Katsuki and Izuku, you strived to go to UA. Wanting to be in their support course, having strive to be a huge support tech in the future. Hopefully with your own company. You were well on that path as well.

You were there for that god-awful attack Katsuki dealt with in middle school. Seeing him covered in the sludge monster, gasping for air, haunted your dreams. You were walking with him after all. Watched the sludge climb up his body as you frantically tried to pry it off, your hands just slipping through the muck. Being pushed away once Katsuki started to cough violently. He didn't want you anywhere near what was happening. Looking wide-eyed at you before coughing for you to get help. So reluctantly, you did. Looking back at the blonde as he was submerged before you bolted for help, screaming for it down every walkway.

Only to come back to watch your other best friend running in to try and help. Screaming his name as well as you ran to get to them. Being pushed back by the wind All Might made when he came to help. Falling on your back as you watched, with tears in your eyes, Katsuki being freed from the sludge, gasping for any air he could. A hero lifted you up and held you from running to your friends, despite your frantic yelling for the boys. When they were cleared from the medics, you were allowed to see them. Instantly hugging Katsuki while yelling at Izuku over his shoulder, telling him he was stupid to run in without a quirk. Even though you were about to do the same. Katsuki rubbed off on you in that way. Yelling at others all while knowing you'd do the same.

By all means, you knew that wasn't going to be the last time you saw the boys in danger. Especially after Izuku got a quirk just in time for the UA testing. You weren't worried about the exam portion, the three of you studied together for that after all. Well, you studied with both of them, but they never studied with each other. Your test had an additional few tests but you passed them with ease. Just like how you knew Katsuki would pass his. You were worried for Izuku and his trial, which you were right to be, he broke both his arms with only one shot of his quirk. And after all that, it was still unlikely he'd get in. When you did get the letter of acceptance, you were with Katsuki, Izuku told you to go with Katsuki as he would probably not get in and he wants to be with his mom. Katsuki and you yelled and jumped around his room in excitement at the bold lettering of 'acceptance,' well you were jumping, he was being cocky and acting unaffected about it. Izuku called you only minutes after to let you know he got in as well. Katsuki rolled his eyes as he heard the news. Complaining once you hung up about how he didn't know how a nobody like him got in.

Getting into UA started everything for you. You got an insanely good internship after the sports festival. You followed Mei's lead, with Katsuki's and Izuku's advice, and showed off a suit similar to the American hero, 'Iron Man' just with your own flare and adjustments. Getting scouted for Endeavor's hero agency's personal tech crew. Following under the head of their tech.

With being in UA you got some insider information about what the hero course was doing. Making the hero outfit of both Katsuki and Izuku and doing any upgrades they needed. Eventually doing their friend's suits as well. Insider information wasn't enough, unfortunately. You were aware that the hero course went to the forest for training but you only knew Katsuki was taken when you met up with a beaten-up Izuku in a hospital bed. Having got a frantic call from Kirishima the second they got phone service. Him telling you to meet at this hospital because Izuku was in bad shape due to a villain attack.

You were involved in the rescue plan for Katsuki. Bring stealth equipment for a disguise. You weren't able to get anything else due to the time frame but you were there and it was successful. Holding your hand out alongside Kirishima for Katsuki to grab. You were also there for the fall of All Might, and consequently the fall of the boys beside you. Katsuki having his lip quiver as Izuku stood in shock.

Since you were there, and the villains saw your face and technique, you were invited to the dorms as well. They were supposed to be only for the hero course but they made changes. You dormed with the Class A girls.

You saw the boys leave that one night, deciding to stay in bed and let them hash it out. They should be grown enough at this point to not kill each other. Regretting that decision when you saw how beaten and bruised both the boys were the next day.

Their Provisional license exam was at the same time as yours. Yours being a test of how effective your gear is and if it's safe enough for the public heroes. Coming back to the dorms to see a happy Izuku and a distraught Katsuki. You spent that night in his dorm room, helping him prepare for the extra course he now had to take.

Being within the top best-performing techs within UA, you were recruited to help with the War. Making sure everyone had good and up-to-date equipment, giving extra support items, but also being within the team itself. They needed any help they could get and you had a suit good for fighting. Aizawa asked you himself. He knew his two best boys trained you enough to know how to defend yourself. So you were in the evacuation crew. Only parting from that when you saw the boys running in the direction of mass destruction.

You stood by Aizawa's side as you saw your best friends get pummeled within an inch of life. You stood there, holding Aizawa up as you watched Katsuki take three stabs in the chest for Izuku. Leaving the teacher's side instantly, running up to the limp and bloody body that was Katsuki. Hands searching his body to try and stop the blood. Bloody hands ripping his hero suit to push it into his wounds. Crying for him to stay awake. When his eyes were fluttering shut you placed your bloody hands on his face, trying to ground him as you shook his face. Bringing a hand up to slap him awake. His eyes shooting open to look at you. Iida eventually pulled you off him, helping Katsuki stand, and dragged him off the battlefield.

You had to bite your lip to hold in a yell when you saw Katsuki go back into the fight. The bloody handprints you left still on his face.

The hospital trip was a rough one as well. Waited the miserable hours for either of your best friends to wake. When one was being examined you went to the other. Constantly checking on both. Luckily, the moment Katsuki woke up, you were just coming back from grabbing a drink and some snacks.

Katsuki snapped his eyes open when he heard the door open, body jolting to sit up. You dropped your food, pushing Katsuki back into bed with a hug. He was mainly confused. He remembers the fight but he didn't expect you to be here. He wrapped his IV-ridden arm around you, hugging as tight as his ribs allowed. After all, he was extremely worried about you going into the battlefield. You didn't have nearly enough training. When he finally passed out from the pain his last worry was if you'd be alive when he woke up.

His brain was foggy, he was just getting his senses back, feeling you, smelling your hair that you must have washed the night before, and hearing the small sobs of relief you were letting out. "Stop crying, I'm fine," Katsuki rasped, voice still shattered from everything.

"You almost died," you pulled back, placing your hands on his face, getting the flashed memory of your bloody hands on him as he struggled to stay awake and alive.

He really took in your appearance then, forced to look at you with your hands squishing his face. You looked like a wreck, it was obvious to anyone that you hardly slept. Your clothes were wrinkled and your hair was a mess, as if you ran your hands through it too many times.

"Kats?" you called for his attention.

"Huh?"

"You can't do that to me," you scolded, knowing deep in your heart, something like this would happen again.

He knew that too, which is why he just pulled you in for another hug. "Why's my quirk weird?" he whispered, not feeling the usual sense of his quirk.

"What do you mean?" you asked. You tried to pull away but his grip was firm, keeping you pressed into his arms.

His face reddened. The reason he felt off was because he didn't feel the normal energy rushing through his hands that came out as sparks at your touch. "Just not sweaty, y'know, like normal."

You laughed lightly, voice still fragile from how much you've been crying, "They put you on quirk suppressants, they expected you to explode with anger or something when you woke up."

Ideas flashed before his eyes. He was on quirk suppressants and was unable to use his quirk, at least right now. He wasn't sparking up at your touch.

He left his arms loosen, you pulling back once again to check his face, make sure he really was there. Placing your hands on his cheek, squeezing your eyes shut at the memory before looking at him again. He thought over his next move, looking at your expression for a while. He reached his hand up to hold yours against his face. Looking up at you before his other hand reached up and pulled you in for a kiss.

That was the first kiss between you two. Put off as the heat of the moment and never discussed afterward. Both of you knew it wasn't, but you would die on the hill that it was. Right after you parted, a doctor came in to inform you that Izuku was starting to wake up, and he needed to run some tests on Katsuki.

After that, everything was insanely busy. Preparations for the war were already taking place. Izuku was asking for your help with his suit. The last suit he asked for before he wrote a goodbye letter and went MIA. That was hard for both you and Katsuki. You spent nights awake together going through the tracker you left on his gear, keeping track of his location and health.

Those nights together feel like a fleeting moment that you could never grasp again.

When the second year was supposed to start, you saw your childhood friend die in front of you. With nothing you could do as he laid limp on the cold ground. He was beaten and bloody just like everyone else. Just like you were. You went into the fight on a whim, just having finished a suit for yourself, and after about 20 minutes of fighting for your life, you were knocked down. Laying limp while you saw Katsuki get his lifeless body thrown to the side.

You woke up in the hospital before him, body still bruised but you were healed more than most. Katsuki's room was the first you went to, after asking every hospital worker if he was alive. His room was cold, not lively with his usual energy, but his heart was still pumping. Notes from his mom littered his table, just like yours but with more. You couldn't stand looking at him for more than twenty minutes. Choking on your tears as you decided to see Izuku.

Walking was too much for you, despite your healing, seeing Izuku's entirely broken body broke you even more. You passed out after a few moments of seeing the green-haired boy. Head flooding with the reality that both of your best friends almost died, and one did.

The nurse kept you in your room from then on, you passed out and hit your head. Gaining a major concussion with the fall. You were completely bedridden and required to be in a room with little to no light. So it was a shock when a bandaged Katsuki slammed open your door, multiple people behind him telling him to lay down and rest.

You had the horrible hospital food halfway in your mouth when he barged in. Dropping it as you stared at the boy.

"Are you okay?" he asked despite the protests behind him.

"Yes? Are you okay?" you asked back, more confused than anything.

Katsuki shoved the people off his shoulder and pushed his way into your hospital room, closing and locking the door behind him.

"What are you doing? You died! You need rest," you protested, finally having your brain start working.

He scoffed, walking to your side, with a a limp, "Can't sleep, 'think I can knowing you're in the hospital room down the hall?" He pushed you to the side of your bed, making a spot for him to lay next to you.

"When'd you wake up?" you asked softly, accepting he wouldn't have it any other way.

He stayed quiet for a moment, "Like thirty minutes ago."

"Bakugo!" you slapped his arm, super gently compared to normal, "Have you let them run their tests? How do I know you're okay?"

"Relax, and don't call me that," he huffed.

"You died!"

"I know," he sighed, looking away, "They ran a few tests and said I'm fine. Shouldn't be up but y'know how I am."

You let out a sigh of relief, "You should go to bed, Kats."

"Told ya, can't sleep," he looked at you

"Yeah but they need to-"

"I'm on quirk suppressants, can I kiss you?" he interrupted you, a blush coating his face.

"Huh?" you blinked, "What does that have to do with anything?"

"Please?"

"I mean sure but-"

He didn't let you continue anymore, pressing his lips to yours after he got your consent. This kiss was more passionate than the first. Like the other just escape death, like how it was. His hand cradled your face, pushing you closer just to kiss you softer.

When you both pulled back, you let out small breaths. Foreheads resting on each other as you stared at each others' lips.

"Been wantin' to do that," he whispered.

"Me too," you smiled. Any conversation before being forgotten, for a moment at least.

You heard the door handle to your room jiggle. Keys being tested on the lock.

"You're okay though?" he pulled back, looking at you for any injuries.

"Just a concussion, you have it worse," you frowned, looking at all the cuts that were covered with a bandage.

"I've lived through worse," he said for comfort.

"You died from this," you furrowed your brows. "Let your doctors run their test, otherwise I won't talk to you."

"But-"

"Go," you stayed firm. Just in time for the doctor to unlock the room and rush him out.

About two months or so later, you two had the chance to sit one one-on-one together. No physical therapy appointments to attend or any work to do. Just time to talk. The war left a lot of cleaning up and school only started again a week ago. Everything was changed and fixed. Which left little free time other than sleep. You've seen each other between the kiss and now but it was always in groups.

You talked for a while that day. Deciding to actually become something more. To be more than childhood best friends. So you did, about halfway into the second year.

The second year was busy, with all the changes to the hero world and the world in general. You never got time alone to work on your relationship. Staying normal besides the title change to your relationship, never even kissing again. It was hard but you worked through it, too busy to even think about it. The third year was the same, just only sharing a kiss if he got injured or when you got a huge job offer. You also shared a kiss at graduation, when you agreed to live together after school.

Getting a two-bedroom apartment together, right next to where you both worked. At first, you thought that the second bedroom was going to be an office. But it ended up being his room. The two of you not sharing a bed despite almost 2 years of a relationship at this point. Yet you worked with it, if he needed more time then that's okay. He was everything to you. And you could tell you were everything for him as well. It just got a little weird when your friends forgot your relationship, asked if you were unhappy or abused, or even flirted with you.

-Next Part-

In them m.list of this fic comment if you want to be added into a tag list <3

I'll no longer add people to the taglist if they haven't commented there. It's too much to keep up with all the new part. Hope you understand <3

[formulampreg]

✨Welcome to the Formula mpreg fest✨

Welcome everyone! and welcome all kinds of mpreg!

We know and understand mpreg is not everyone's thing, so please don't hang around if you're sure you don't like and don't be rude to those that enjoy it ✨

That being said...

Welcome everyone ♥️ 

These are some tentative dates that will be put up for voting:-

Prompting: January 6 to 26

Claiming: January 27

Check in: February 21-22

Posting: March 8-9

Reveals: March 10

Links for you ♥️ 

The Collection

The prompt form

The claiming form

Further info is on the collection's dashboard but let me add it down here as well

What's mpreg? Whay counts as mpreg for the fest? Mpreg is a term used to describe situations where a man becomes pregnant, resulting in a Male Pregnancy. The fest welcomes all kinds of mpreg: cismpreg, transmpreg, intersex mpreg, a/b/o dynamics, magical pregnancies, fics that go into the carried gene variant, you could also not offer an explanation and just have the world be like that.

Prompting & Claiming FAQ

Is it necessary to submit a prompt to claim one? Do I have to claim a prompt to submit one? No! You don’t need to submit prompts in order to claim them, and you are not required to claim prompts to “be allowed” submit them.

How are claims done? Once we set up the schedule, you will be able to start claiming by pressing on the “Claim” button next to the prompt you want and then filling out the Claim Form. Please remember that If you don’t fill it, your claim will be deleted.

Can more than one person claim a prompt? No! Only one claim per prompt will be allowed. It will be on the “First come First serve” basis, and any secondary claims will be deleted. Anyone that wants to use any other media that isn't writing doesn'tneed to claim it on AO3, just please fill out the form so I can know <3

How do self-prompts work? Right before the ending of the Prompting Period we will post a bunch of “Self-Prompt” prompts. These are for people that have their own, original ideas they want to write or make art for but that they still want to share inside the Fest.

How are self-prompts claimed? The exact same way! Except more people can claim each one. You’ll be able to claim one and that will count for the three claims per person limit.

Remember friends: you can always drop out if life gets messy or if the inspiration runs away!

And now some RULES

1. All Works must include some form of mpreg - this mean that if your story has past or future "off-screen" mpreg, then it still counts! 2. Gen fic is welcomed! Not everything has to revolve around romantic and/or sexual relationships. 3. Minimum word count is 1k! Chaptered fics are, of course, allowed, you'd just have to make sure that the first chapter (or chapters) you post hits 1k words. 4. All works - especially those included sensitive topics and/or smut HAVE to be properly tagged. We will read over the fics before allowing them into the collections and we will ask you to tag properly if we detect a missing tag. 5. Ships must include at least two (2) paddock individuals. OCs or Non-paddock characters are not allowed for final ships. Y/N fics are not allowed. 6. No plagiarism allowed, no unauthorized reproduction allowed. If someone sees a prompt or a work that you suspect was copied from someone or somewhere else, please let the mods know.

RESTRICTED THEMES The only restricted themes the fest will have will be: Pedophilia, incest and underage.If you want to include an aged up character that had a kid when they were teenagers, you can. But you cannot have underage characters engaging in sexual activities in your fic.

[minkdelovely]

love and power

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧     ✧     ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

chapter two

“i come loaded with the

safety switch on.”

Alastor x Fem!Reader ; MDNI 18+ ; [y/n] used sparingly ; Alias in Hell is Sylvie

tags/warnings: blood, sensory overload, vomit, implied cannibalism, descriptions of graphic violence, power dynamics, non-consensual touching, valentino sighting, slow burn eventual: smut

word count: 2.5k

author’s note: i just wanted to give a huge shoutout to @hazelfoureyes for being so gracious to let me tag her here as inspo! if you haven’t already, please go check out her work - she’s seriously sooo talented and awoke my need for more interaction between alastor and valentino lol

prelude ; chapter one ; chapter two ; chapter three ; chapter four ; chapter five ; chapter six ; chapter seven ; chapter eight ; chapter nine ; chapter ten: part one ; chapter ten: part two

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Alastor had insisted that you walk back to the hotel, your arm linked under his as he paraded you through the remainder of the city like a proud parent.

You tried to fight feeling grateful for the support since he could have easily teleported you back to the hotel, but you gripped his arm all the same. The adrenaline dump had left you feeling so depleted and all you wanted was to be back in your bed. Snippets of what happened in the alley raced through your mind’s eye, and you shook your head, trying to keep them at bay. Did you really have the capacity to be that enraged? That violent? Apparently you did…

The blood was drying tight on your face, contrasting with the slick, heavy feeling of fabric latching to the skin of your chest. You could feel yourself winding up, overwhelmed and uncomfortable by the mess you were covered in. There wasn’t a part of you that felt clean and you were desperate with the need to remove your dress. Tears blurred the edge of your vision when you fixated on the taste in your mouth, barely managing to pull away from Alastor before you fell to your knees and vomited.

Bile, blood, and… It was the tipping point.

No longer able to hold it back, the sob you released was closer to a scream. What had you done? You couldn’t fight the images flashing in your mind; the sound of screams and flesh tearing, an airway so saturated with blood it bubbled. How it felt when your teeth punctured flesh, no easier than biting into a piece of fruit. Your mouth filling with blood… and swallowing. And that wasn’t all you had swallowed, was it?

It wasn’t until you started frantically tearing at the collar of your dress that Alastor approached from behind you, grabbing your wrists easily in his large hands.

“Now, now, that simply won’t do,” he chided cooly in your ear, radio static gone, his presence large and stable behind you. “I thought a walk might help you to calm down, but at least you managed to save this episode from prying eyes. Be a big girl now and stop crying, we’re nearly home.”

You couldn’t see through the tears as he pulled you up to your feet, his hands releasing you as soon as you were standing. A throb of pain rocked your head and you choked out a final sob, trying to steady your breath as you rubbed your burning, swollen eyes. 

Why was he being so patient with you? He had been in a good mood ever since he found you in the alley, not even bothered by the fact that the clothes you had been sent to pick up were soiled and needed to be returned to the cleaners. And how had he even found you in the first place? Was he following you? 

“Oh, my dear, you look like the stuff of nightmares!” Alastor said in his usual static, not sounding at all sorry for you. Hell, he probably meant it as a compliment. “Remind me to ask what that poor creature did to earn your wrath.”

With that, he hooked your arm again and led you up the hill.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

“What the fuck happened to you?!” Angel shouted from the bar when you entered the lobby. Husk nearly dropped the glass in his hand, but managed to recover, his face pale.

Thankfully, your audience was just the two of them. You wouldn’t have known what to do if everyone had been there to see you in this state. Dread came over you then, thinking of what it will be like to finally stand in front of a mirror. Your empty stomach churned.

“Not to worry, Angel, the blood isn’t hers. Poor thing ran into a bit of trouble running errands, but that’s all been taken care of, hasn’t it?” Alastor cooed, resting his hand on your shoulder as he peered down at you.

“Well don’t just stand there, let her get cleaned up before anyone else sees! Niffty’s gonna have a fucking fit when she finds the mess on that carpet,” Husk said to Alastor, shaking his head in exasperation. 

Alastor’s fingers dug into you at being rebuked, but you were more focused on the muted plop sounds of blood falling to the carpet from the laundry bag. Had it really just been an hour since you had picked it up? You were so tired it was hard to believe that it was still only morning.

“Yeah, don’t worry, toots. We won’t tell no one about your, uh… day out,” Angel said delicately, raising his hand with a suave smile. “Scout’s honor. Though I gotta say, I think you look fuckin’ badass. Whoever it was got what was coming to ’em.”

You huffed out a small laugh, managing to give him a weak smile before Alastor enveloped you both in shadow.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

Angel and Husk watched as you and Alastor disappeared, giving themselves a moment until they felt like it was safe enough for them to talk again.

“So… what the actual fuck, am I right?” Angel half-laughed, taking a swig from his glass. “I think she fuckin’ ate somebody.”

Husk hummed, nodding his head slightly in agreement. “Definitely not impossible. I just hope he didn’t put her up to it.”

“You really think he’d do somethin’ like that, Husk? I mean, sure, he’s been bossin’ her around but… forcin’ her to eat someone? Seems extreme.” 

Husk sighed, giving him a defeated look. Angel shook his head, eyebrow peaked in disbelief. Ignoring the phone buzzing in his pocket, he finished his drink.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

Despite how much you had been looking forward to it, it felt strange to be back in your room. Everything was the same as how you’d left it, but it almost felt like nothing here belonged to you anymore. The room was so still, quiet except for the sounds of Alastor rooting around in your ensuite bathroom. What he could possibly be looking for, you didn’t know, nor did you really care. You were so tempted to just collapse on the bed…

The shower turned on and you sighed, closing your eyes to enjoy the soothing sound it made. It was a peace short-lived, your eyes flying open when you felt fingers at the back of your neck undo the button of your collar, followed quickly by cool air against your spine as Alastor unzipped you. You stiffened and moved away, turning to face him, bringing your arms up to keep the dress from slipping off your shoulders to the floor.

The rebuttal died in your throat when he laughed, stepping towards you in your retreat.

“Testy, aren’t we? I was merely trying to help, and this is the thanks I get?” 

His eyes narrowed when you moved farther away in response. Would he ever stop toying with you? 

“Alastor, please, I’m too tired for this,” you pleaded, glancing at the bathroom behind you as you fought back a fresh wave of tears. You knew he wouldn’t like it if you started crying again. 

“Which is exactly why I’m trying to help! Surely, you aren’t insinuating that my intentions were anything but courteous?” He said it casually enough but you could feel the threat veiled underneath as he continued his way to you. “Seeing how my clothes need laundering again, I figured you’d want me to take the dress as well. It was a gift, after all.”

“I’ll take it myself,” you tried to say evenly, looking away from him. He was hovering over you now, effectively making you feel small. “And I didn’t think you were—”

He tipped your chin to look up at him and licked the pad of his thumb on his free hand. You stood frozen stiff as he used it to wipe your cheek, not daring to upset him more by pulling away. Somewhere in the back of your mind, the truth of how completely in control he was over you sunk in, killing whatever was left of the hope you had of staying under his radar. Silently, you watched as he brought his thumb back to his mouth, but your breath hitched as he sucked off the residue. The look in his eyes made you want to disappear, and you hoped the tear-streaked mess on your face was able to hide the blush now burning your cheeks.

“Sylvie… shouldn’t you be getting in the shower? Or is wasting water another bad habit of yours?” he said, voice low and face smug.

Without thinking, you jerked your face out of his hand and quickly pulled the dress off, shoving it at his chest. Before he could say another word you were in the bathroom, using all the restraint you had left not to slam the door in his face. Leaning against the door, you could hear him laughing as he made his way out of your room. Finally there was silence, and you slid to the floor with your face in your hands, swallowing against the feeling of your heart in your throat. And worse, you weren’t sure if the tightness in your chest was shame… or something else.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

Niffty was already hard at work removing the blood stains in the lobby, mumbling to herself as Alastor passed through to make his way back to Cannibal Town. Making sure to give Husk a knowing, pompous grin, and receiving a scowl in return, he walked out the hotel. Alastor couldn’t recall the last time he had enjoyed himself so much before noon. Whatever else the day had in store he couldn’t know, though it would be tough to beat.

The taste that lingered in his mouth was bordering on cruel, a gamble he wasn’t sure he had properly hedged the bet of. Regret wasn’t something Alastor felt often, if at all, and he would vehemently deny it even if he did. Was it regret he felt at tasting the blood that dried on your face? No. While the blood itself was subpar — it had come from some vile creature, after all — it had been transformed by your skin chemistry and tears, creating a flavor that was robust and surprising. Had it not been for decades of tempering his self-control, Alastor worried briefly in the back of his mind that he might have done something drastic; hence allowing himself just the one taste. And apparently doomed to savor it until opportunity presented itself. 

He couldn’t help passing by the alley as he made his way through the city, unsurprised to see that your victim was still lying there, stripped of clothes and whatever possible valuables he had possessed. It would be at least a week before he recovered from the attack. A thought passed through Alastor’s mind and his antlers grew in response to the idea, mouth curling up in a fanged, sinister grin. Passersby ran away in horror.

It wasn’t until Alastor walked into the dry cleaners that the armor of his good mood chipped. Of all the fiends in Hell, Valentino was the least of whom he ever expected to run into here. Cannibal Town wasn’t a sanctuary in the true sense, but its culture did manage to deter most of the demons Alastor deemed undesirable. A peace he was not willing to part with. Though clearly someone had tipped Valentino off about how to blend in here, as he was without his gaudy trademark robe, instead donning a shockingly respectable black suit.

Alastor had no grudge with Valentino, he simply just didn’t respect him. Getting sinners to sign themselves over to you in promise of fame was so trite. How Valentino could be proud to call himself an Overlord was a mystery, unless he was truly that shameless. Or more likely, from what Alastor had overheard Angel saying to others in passing, oblivious. Both seemed correct. While Alastor could suffer a fool, anyone who would bend under Vox’s will really wasn’t worthy of his concern or energy. 

Valentino turned at the ringing of the bell over the door, with what could only be described as a shit-eating grin as he took in the sight of The Radio Demon.

“Well fuck me, if it isn’t the big, brave hero! I thought Adam sent you to Super Hell, but I guess you would be too stubborn to die,” Valentino said haughtily, taking a drag off his cigarette. “How’s the wound, flaco?”

Internally Alastor bristled, but he maintained his facade of nonchalance. It wasn’t surprising that the Vees had found out about what happened between him and Adam. Of course it irritated him all the same, considering that the battle between the two of them wasn’t quite public knowledge. For now, all Alastor could do was keep the fact that the Vees knew in his back pocket and work on a plan of action to counteract it, should need arise.

“Wound is a bit strong, Valentino, but as they say: what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger! You’re too kind, inquiring after my health,” Alastor responded jovially, though the smile on his face was cold and menacing. “I must say, I never thought I’d see you here. I didn’t think Cannibal Town would be an ideal place for you to… scout.”

Valentino scoffed through a strained smile. “No shit. There are a lot of kinks out there, but ‘ragtime cannibal freaks’ isn’t one of them.” He paused to take another drag, continuing as he exhaled red smoke, “But this is the only place that can actually get all the stains out of my shit. Looks like I’m not alone in that department. Busy morning?” He gave a pointed look at the bloody laundry bag hanging off Alastor’s arm.

“You could say that,” Alastor teased, finally making his way up to the counter. The employee took the bag with a smile and removed the suit from its paper covering. Your dress was hanging in an armoire back in Alastor’s suite. He never intended to get it laundered. “Send my regards to Velvette. I haven’t had the chance to tell her how much I enjoyed her input at the last meeting you were apparently too busy to attend.”

Before the moth demon could say anything his cell phone rang, and Valentino answered as he gave Alastor the finger in response, opening the door to leave. “What do you mean, Donny hasn’t fucking showed up yet?!”

And then he was gone, yelling at his phone in the middle of Cannibal Town. Bold.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

When you woke up your room was dark, save for the light of a sconce near your door, the throbbing in your forehead making itself immediately known. The headache wasn’t surprising considering how much you had cried, nor was the pang of hunger you felt. You didn’t feel ready to eat anything yet though, but you definitely needed to get some water in your system.

Slowly, you got yourself out of bed, pausing for a moment to breathe through the stiffness in your body. Even when you had fled from Alastor earlier, your bathroom had never seemed as far away as it did now. It wasn’t until you were practically in front of it that you noticed the red dress hanging from your bathroom door, a note peaking out from the left pocket of the white, ruffled apron attached to its waist. It was a brief message, but impactful all the same. 

I believe red suits you best. - Alastor

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tag list: @fairyv-ice

[undertheorangetree]

The Last of the Dragons

Chapter Two- The Deal

Summary- After the disastrous bedding, the new couple tries to improve their situation.

Warnings- MDNI 18+ NSFW. Female reader. Incest. Lots of arguing. Angst. Homegirl’s having a difficult week. Mirrors. Masturbation. Fingering. Coming in pants. Idk how else to tag that one I’m sorry. Aemond’s just helping.

Author’s Note- I promised sexier so I delivered besties. But also it’s still sad oop.

series masterlist

She manages to remain hidden in her chambers for three days following the consummation. Though she doesn't go as far as barring the door, she may as well have, only allowing two maid servants into the room and no one else save her grandsire. She allows him in the morning after the wedding, knowing that he is too persistent to keep out. The pleasantries only last so long, with him informing her of Baela and Rhaena's plan to return to court in time for her coronation before he begins inquiring as to whether or not the consummation was successful. She keeps the details as vague as possible before managing to kick him out with complaints of sickness. It keeps him away, him and everyone else who could possibly want to see her. And she is glad for it. Though it is not fair, she blames Corlys for her humiliation and refuses to speak with him further until this shame dissipates, unsure as to how she will ever be able to look at anyone within that damned council without thinking of how they had all put her in this situation. How they had watched them, her, while she and Aemond had done their duty.

It is foolish, she knows, to remain upset. A thousand women have endured such a fate before her and she does not doubt a thousand have yet to bear it, but she is the queen now. Should she wish to sulk in her shame, there is no one in the realm who can pull her from her rooms now.

Or, at least, not many.

He gives her time, keeping his distance for nearly four nights, but she knew he would come to her eventually. Duty is the pillar Aemond has built his life upon and he would not allow it to go unattended for long. Though she had thought he would come to her during the day, that he would find the time in his rigorous schedule to knock on her door and berate her for her lack of attention, for attempting to skate her duty. It was so expected that she had prepared herself for it, steeling herself whenever she heard footsteps sound too close to the door.

She hadn’t expected him to come in through the passageways during the hour of ghosts, appearing in the mirror behind her as suddenly as a wraith.

She is forced to stifle a shriek when she catches sight of him, turning quickly to face him. It feels almost like having your back on a predator, the discomfort only growing when she catches the look on his face. Jaw set, lips pursed, looking around the room in disdain. It takes more effort than it should, to attempt to appear unaffected, but there is only one thought coursing through her mind now. That he is here to claim his rights, to do his husbandly duty. He had given her respite, likely longer than he had any reason to, and now he is here to begin what must be started.

The very thought makes her stomach sink, the consummation replaying in her head like a terrible dream, but she forces herself to steel her spine and appear unbothered, reprimanding him through the mirror.

"By the gods, Aemond, there is a door for a reason, you know. You cannot just sneak into my rooms like a thief in the night."

His mouth twitches at that, his irritation evident. "You are not answering your door. Nor are you leaving your chambers. I had almost begun to believe that you are ill."

"I am ill."

He simply hums, making his way toward her. She stiffens, whole body going rigid, but he does not touch her. Instead, his hand goes to the line of ornate bottles that sit below her vanity, each one lined meticulously. He picks up one of the bottles, uncorking it before holding it under his nose. It's a perfume, one that she had been gifted before the war by one of the lords vying for her affection. She had always liked it- a pretty thing that smelt of peaches and honey- and had used it sparingly, but his face remains unchanged as he pushes the cork back in and sets it back in the line.

"My mother has yet to leave me alone," he announces into the silence. She goes still again, not needing him to continue, but he pays her no heed. With his eye still locked on her, he continues. "She is determined to ensure that I understand the importance of conceiving an heir. Corlys as well, though I imagine he has come to visit you despite your illness."

It is her turn to clench her jaw, biting her tongue as she leans forward to fetch her hairbrush. "He has."

"Then you know why I've come?"

Read the rest here :)

Taglist- @ammo23 @bellstwd @kckt88 @aemondsbabygirl @shygardengalaxy @duds31 @at-a-rax-ia @ladymarg0t @queenofshinigamis @drakar-i @cl-0-vr @castellomargot @moonlightfoxx @ladybug0095 @marihoneywk @the-common-cowgirl @darylandbethfanforever9 @bunny24sstuff @helaenaluvr @eternally-passionate @herfantasyworldd @toodlesxcuddles @ashovertheriver @lokiofasgard12 @hypocritic-trash-baby

bolded couldn’t be tagged :(