#au word count: less than 5k

[andreil-fic-stash]

that's my dick you're talking about by athenachild

Word Count: 1,500

Rating: Mature

Alternate Universe: Trans!Neil

Summary:

In all honesty, Neil didn’t think it was going to arrive today or maybe even ever. USPS lost the package briefly and it seemed like the world had decided to fight back against Neil Josten having a dick.

[laylajeffany]

Between healing bees and Wednesday identifying her sexuality in a clinical setting, Enid can not prepare for what's next in her new life.

[moonlinos]

I can hear the siren (Siren part I)

♡ Pairing: Hwang Hyunjin × fem!reader

♡ Genre: Camboy!Hyunjin, neighbors AU, strangers to “lovers”

♡ CW: Explicit sexual content (minors dni!), sex work, voyeurism if you squint, hate sex kind of?, masturbation, thigh riding, oral sex (male receiving), unprotected sex, Hyunjin’s a bit of an asshole but I love him

♡ Word count: 7.9k

♡ Synopsis: To say your new next-door neighbor is loud would be an understatement. Three times a week, at the same time every night, he will laugh and talk loudly for an hour. After that, like clockwork, a cacophony of his groans and moans will fill your room through your shared wall. He’s most certainly entertaining some hookup, or maybe a girlfriend. You frankly don’t care — all you know is you want your peace and quiet back. But you never would’ve guessed what you would find out upon confronting him.

♡ A/N: Once again, I cannot shut up and this ended up being much longer than I had originally wanted. One day, I will write a one-shot that’s less than 5k words, but today is not that day. I listened to Taeyeon’s Siren while writing this, hence the title. Also think the song’s a little fitting to the story.

part II →

Yet another night, yet another two hours of hearing your next-door neighbor moaning like a porn star for anyone to hear. The thin walls of your apartment, coupled with the fact that your room shared a wall with his own bedroom, make it impossible for you not to hear everything that happens inside his bedroom. Earphones have proven futile in muffling his voice, and you can only distract yourself with mindless YouTube videos for so long before you give up and simply wait for him to finish. Quite literally.

You noticed it was his routine: Fridays and weekends — the nights when he would graciously give the entire building a free show.

But that wasn’t all he did. And that’s what stirs up curiosity inside of you.

An hour before the unholy sounds begin, he spends a significant amount of time simply speaking, laughing loudly, and throwing the occasional suggestive comment here and there. But only his voice can be heard, and considering how damn thin the walls are, you can’t help but wonder why that is. Maybe his hookups aren’t into his long, drawn-out conversations, only there to get fucked and dip as fast as possible. Or perhaps it’s a girlfriend, and he enjoys gagging her. Your mind has had plenty of time to run wild with theories, seeing as he moved about a month ago, starting your own personal version of hell on his very first day.

You complained to your landlord three times now. On the first time, you were dismissed as being too sensitive to noise. Maybe invest in some earplugs, she suggested. The second time, after explaining through gritted teeth that perhaps the entire building could also hear him and it would be wise to give him a warning, she assured you that only your apartment had such complaints — after all, it was only the two of you on that floor. And, on your last attempt before you ultimately gave up, your landlord all but berated you for meddling in your neighbor’s business. She argued he was inside his apartment and could do whatever he desired.

And so, you accepted your fate.

As you walk out of the shower, your bliss at the realization that tonight is a Friday dissipates as soon as it dawns on you that you are in for three days in a row of your neighbor and his antics. You groan, reluctantly making your way toward your bedroom, your body aching after sitting at your desk at work all day. So sleeping on the couch was not an option; your limbs only ached even more the day after you did that to try and escape the raucous noise.

Like clockwork, at exactly ten p.m., his loud voice fills the small space of your bedroom.

“I’m actually going out tonight again, so we have to be quick,” he explains. “But you like it when I’m quick, don’t you? Like when I make you cum so fast you barely have time to understand what’s happening.”

You grimace at his words, burying yourself under your blankets. God.

“I’m going clubbing with a couple of friends,” He continues. “Hopefully, I’ll find a nice girl to take home, hm?”

Crossing out the word Girlfriend on your mental notes, you scoff. What a gentleman he is, letting his hook-up know he’ll have to fuck her fast so he can leave to meet another woman to take home.

“Maybe I’ll record a video for you if she lets me. Would you like that, seeing me fuck another woman? I bet you would.”

What the fuck. The word Girlfriend is added back to your list. Maybe the girl is into that shit, and you’re not one to kink shame so long as everything’s consensual. But you surely didn’t consent to knowing that information. 

Soon enough, his voice drops to a sultry tone, and incessant hums spill from his lips. And the worst part of your night begins.

You hate to admit it — seeing as the guy makes you lose sleep and disturbs your peace since he’s graced the building with his presence — but his dirty talk, when coupled with his groans, becomes far less unpleasant and much more enticing. Every night, you struggle for an hour with the uncomfortable feeling of arousal between your legs, the way he alternates between praises and vulgar words causing a twinge inside of you. But you never dare to masturbate to the sound of his voice — that would be going too far. Or, at least, that’s what you tell yourself as you follow your rule of waiting for him to finish whatever it is that he’s doing to then finally touch yourself. As you tightly shut your eyes, you focus on your upcoming work assignments, desperately trying to drown out the sound of his voice. Maybe boring yourself to sleep is your only escape.

“Oh, I know how wet you are just watching me — fuck,” he groans, a breathy scoff leaving his lips. “Don’t even gotta tell me. Just touch yourself, it’s okay.”

Your eyes shoot open as it feels as if he’s fucking talking to you. You shake your head, the awful feeling of embarrassment engulfing you in the privacy of your own bedroom.

“I know you want to,” His voice is unrelenting, reverberating through your dark room, punctuated by heavy sighs. “Do it for me, will you? Touch your pretty cunt for me.”

You feel your clit begin to pulse, and a loud groan escapes from your lips. So loud, in fact, you wonder if he heard you through the thin walls as well.

Fuck it, you tell yourself inwardly, it’s not like the guy will ever know what you’re doing.

The sound of his voice was as silky and dark as velvet, covering you wholly and clouding your judgment with each word. You allow your hand to slip underneath your sleep shorts, gasping as you find the fabric of your panties already soaking simply from hearing his words — almost begging, guiding you to let go of your reservations and touch yourself.

“Just like that. D’you like the sound of my voice?” He asked, voice breathless, a deep groan echoing through the walls. “Like hearing me moan for you? Bet you’d like it even more if I was fucking you.”

Your fingers delicately flick back and forth, teasing your clit, your mind now shamelessly imagining his fingertips, his tongue, his cock, anything he was willing to give you. You’re quick to lose yourself in this imagination, despite not knowing what the man looked like — you soon realize that wasn’t at all important, a dark shadowy figure hovering over you proving to be more than enough for you as you felt a rush of wetness pooling between your thighs when your neighbor let out a louder, guttural noise.

“Fuck, I’d love to be stretching that pussy out,” He chokes out, and you bite your bottom lip to keep from making any noise. You’re now hyper-aware that if you can hear him this loudly, he’d be able to hear you with the same amount of clarity.

Your embarrassment only goes so far, though, as you slip a finger into your cunt, your breath hitching and your eyes fluttering closed to better conjure up the fantasy your mind had been creating. You imagine his long fingers inside you in place of your own, the words he spilled almost nonchalantly being whispered directly into your ears. One finger soon turned into two, then three, the heel of your palm rubbing against your clit as you tilt your hips up. You throw away your last drop of inhibition as you indulge in vivid thoughts, imagining the shape and size of his cock and, most importantly, how it would feel as it filled you up. Your neighbor’s words almost faded into white noise, his grunting the only coherent sound in your ears.

Would he take his time with you, like he always did whenever you heard him? Teasing you for hours as he candidly talked about nothing in particular, rendering you unable to do anything but beg for him? Or would he be hasty, like tonight, his cock abruptly stretching you to the brim, making you feel every inch of his thick length? Would he rather finish on your breasts, your stomach, or maybe your face, taking a picture to keep as a souvenir he could show off to whoever he was with during these nights?

“Come with me,” His voice suddenly became clear once more, deep and hoarse as you imagine his lips pressed against the shell of your ear. “Think about how good it’d feel to have me come inside you, stuffing that little cunt while you milk me dry.”

You purse your lips as you feel your release approaching, coaxed purely by his words. The mental image of this stranger painting your insides with his release, all the while his intoxicating voice told you how good you were, how warm and tight you felt enough to have waves of pleasure wash over you, body tensing up as your orgasm surges through you.

As you slowly come down from your high, you feel your consciousness come back to you. Your fingers leave your core as if you were just burned by fire, which is fitting as a feeling of burning embarrassment wraps around you tightly like a vice.

But the worst part is that the shame quickly ebbs away as you hear your neighbor’s chuckle, the laugh of a stranger you had come to almost memorize.

“You know I’m always glad to make you come. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

And with that, everything around you falls into a quiet stillness. You faintly hear as he shuts his front door, presumably leaving for that club he had mentioned, and you’re left to lie with your regrets.

This has just crossed a line, and although you couldn’t bring yourself to feel all that guilty, you still knew it was wrong. You had no choice but to confront the cause of your troubles yourself.

Unfortunately, that cause was a person you had just shamelessly fantasized about as you fingered yourself.

The next afternoon, you stand at your neighbor’s door, hesitant to knock. Since he mentioned going clubbing last night, you knew coming by in the morning would be futile, but you also know — sadly, all too well — that Saturday nights are when he’s the loudest, and he only stops well past midnight. You settled for the afternoon, preparing lunch as you rehearsed your words in your head instead of enjoying your weekend.

You knock twice, and that familiar voice soon rings through the door, asking for a moment. A minute later, your neighbor is standing in front of you, holding the door open with sleepy eyes that focus on you. You’re not sure what you were expecting, but surely not a tired-looking tall man with messy black hair wearing a pout on his lips, as if you just rudely disturbed him from his sleep (how ironic). From what you heard during the last month, you were ready to have to face a shirtless fuckboy, a permanent smirk etched onto his lips as he eyed you indifferently. Instead, you’re greeted by soft cheeks and half-closed eyes.

“Yeah?” Your neighbor croaks out, face still heavy with sleep.

You clear your throat, returning to the matter at hand. “I’m your next-door neighbor, I—”

“Nice to meet you, neighbor,” he says before you can even finish your rehearsed opening sentence, his lips curling into a small smile. You fight back the urge to roll your eyes. Somehow, him being so soft is making you hate him even more.

“I wish I could say the same,” you mutter, “Y’know, you’ve been making my life a living hell since you moved in.”

He doesn’t answer, instead running a hand through his hair, the strands falling into place and away from his face. After a small nod, he opens the door all the way.

“Come on in,” he says, promptly walking inside and leaving you standing in the hallway all alone. You have no choice but to follow after him.

He snatches his cup of coffee from the counter, letting out a tired sigh as he collapses onto the couch and takes a big sip. You sit next to him and watch as he swallows slowly, humming contently, and only then speaking again.

“Why is that?”

You hold back another eye roll. “Well, you’re quite noisy at night,” you hesitantly begin, only now grasping just how awkward explaining this situation will be. “On Fridays and on the weekends, you’re… loud.”

And in an instant, you witness a complete shift in his entire demeanor right before your eyes. Like he’s possessed by something, his once sleepy eyes now bore into you with an intense gaze, and his lips curl into the smug grin you were expecting from the start.

“So you can hear me?” He asks as if you hadn’t just told him exactly that. You feel small under the weight of his darkened eyes, but you shrug, doing your best at feigning confidence.

“It’s pretty hard not to hear you,” you answer simply. “We share a wall, in case you didn’t know. I can hear everything you do in your bedroom.”

He raises a brow at your words as if they piqued his interest. But he doesn’t verbalize it; instead, he speaks in that same nonchalant tone you’re used to hearing through your bedroom wall, “You never told me your name. A bit rude, don’t you think?” He offers you his hand. “I’m Hyunjin.”

You scoff but shake his hand regardless, telling him your name with a sigh.

“You know what I think is rude?” You offer him a forced smile. “Keeping your next-door neighbor up all night with how fucking loud you are.”

Hyunjin doesn’t answer. His gaze traces a path from your eyes to your lips before lingering on your thighs. You instinctively cross your legs, fingers smoothing down the fabric of your shorts. Locking his gaze with yours once more after a few seconds, he cocks his head to the side.

“So I’ve been keeping you up all night?” He muses, and you feel a warmth spread across your cheeks at the rough rasp in his voice.

It’s almost as if he knows what you did last night and is teasing you.

Although you know that’s impossible, your words still get choked up. Hyunjin was undeniably attractive — whether it was looking as soft as he did while answering the door or as if he could devour you with his gaze alone as he does now. You couldn’t be blamed for feeling flustered, especially after everything you heard this man saying and doing.

“Well,” you clear your throat, crossing your arms over your chest. Showing your outrage at this entire situation is your best bet, so you allow for the anger you felt during all those sleepless nights to seep through your veins. “It’s kinda hard to sleep when you’re moaning like a porn star.”

But Hyunjin fully chuckles at that. “So I sound like a porn star?” He nods with an amused hum. “I’ll take that as a compliment, thank you.”

You let out a heavy sigh. Never mind anything you had thought upon seeing him open that door; Hyunjin is everything you thought he would be.

“Look, I didn’t come here to stroke your ego. You’re clearly doing just fine in that regard,” you grumble, and he scoffs beside you, leaning back on the couch with a smug expression you want to slap away from his pretty face. “I came here to ask if you could move whatever it is that you do to the living room, or maybe keep it down. I’m sure that’s not too much to ask.” 

Hyunjin clicks his tongue almost mockingly. “Oh, but it is too much to ask. I can’t really do any of those things. Sorry,” he shrugs, “The building has thin walls. You’re just gonna have to get used to it, I’m afraid.”

You stagger at his words, his lack of common sense seemingly higher than you initially gave him credit for. You’re unsure whether to laugh in sheer disbelief or cuss him out as anger slowly bubbles up inside your chest. How unfairly attractive he looks at the moment isn’t helping your case — he spreads his legs further as he shifts on the couch, bringing his mug up to his full lips and watching you almost uninterestedly with half-lidded eyes.

Fuck this guy.

“What is it you do that’s so important that you can’t at least keep it down? Can’t your girlfriend get off without your obnoxious dirty talk? Is that it?”

Hyunjin shakes his head dismissively. “Don’t have a girlfriend.”

“Your dates, then. I honestly don’t care.” You roll your eyes, which elicits a small laugh from him. You have never wanted to punch someone so badly, all while also wanting them to rearrange your guts. “Whoever it is, whatever it is that you do, can’t we compromise and you be quiet, at least on Fridays? I get home from work exhausted and have to put up with your shit when all I wanna do is sleep.”

“Ah, but Fridays are the most important nights for me,” Hyunjin tells you with a condescending lilt in his voice. “That’s also not possible, I’m so sorry.”

“I see.” You suck in a deep breath, your eyes narrowing and hands curling into fists on your lap. “Then would it be possible for you to move your… activities to the living room?”

Hyunjin contorts his face, shaking his head while that grin is still etched onto his lips. “Yeah, no, that’s also not possible.”

“You’re extremely inflexible, do you know that?” You blurt out, “I’m not asking that you move out, I’m simply asking that you fuck whoever it is that you fuck every weekend somewhere else.”

His piercing gaze lingers on you briefly, as if he’s carefully considering his next words. Sighing, he sets his mug on the end table and sits up straight.

“Let’s make a deal,” he proposes, carelessly ripping a piece of paper from the open sketchbook that lay on the coffee table and jotting something down. “Tonight, you wait for me to start my activities,” he says with a poorly concealed chuckle. “And then you go on this website. Maybe it’ll clear up some things inside your pretty little head. Can you do that for me?”

He hands you the note, eyes darting down to your lips once more before meeting your gaze. The tone of his voice is the same that echoes through your bedroom during those nights — exactly like the one that coaxed an orgasm out of you just last night, and you absentmindedly squeeze your thighs together.

You need to get out of here.

With a small nod, you swiftly stand back on your feet and walk toward the door of his apartment that was left wide open. You quietly mutter a goodbye as Hyunjin says something about it being a pleasure meeting you, all while amusedly staring at you.

It’s only as you close your front door behind you that you look down at the piece of paper that you subconsciously crumpled up. Scrawled in a messy handwriting is simply a website address:

fivestarcam.com

You furrow your brows, walking toward your bedroom as you rack your brain for how a website could possibly give you answers. It dawns on you, then — all the trouble you went through, and yet, no solution to your problem.

Ultimately, you decide you’ve already wasted too much of your patience on this man today, throwing the piece of paper on your bedside table and going about your day, enjoying the tranquility of your apartment while you can.

Night comes too fast, the sun setting outside unbeknownst to you as you lie on the couch for nearly three hours, your focus solely on the plot of the movie playing on your phone. Soon enough, ten p.m. rolls around, and you drag your tired body toward your bathroom. You take a shower with no rush, knowing full well that by the time you walk into your bedroom, Hyunjin’s activities will already have started.

Sure enough, you’re greeted by a drawled-out groan as soon as you enter your room. With a heavy sigh, you throw yourself onto your bed. Your bedroom had always been comforting, your bed almost like a safe haven from all the stress life threw your way. Yet now it’s simply the place where you lie awake for hours, simultaneously vexed and uncomfortably turned on.

You lie still for a while, Hyunjin’s vulgar chatter like the background music to your spacing out, until you remember the piece of paper he gave you earlier. How would a website clear up any of your confusion? And, more importantly, why should you even care enough to find out? From the little interaction you had with the man, you know for a fact Hyunjin will remain unchanging in his obnoxious ways.

However, you’ve always been too curious for your own good, and the mere prospect of understanding this annoyingly enigmatic man even a tiny bit has you hurriedly picking your laptop off the floor and typing out the website address on your browser. Curiosity killed the cat.

The first thing that greets you is a message asking that you verify being over the age of eighteen. All you have to do is click a button, which seems counterintuitive, but you have little time to worry about that when your screen is filled with preview thumbnails of several live broadcasts.

You’ve heard of camming websites before, of course, but you didn’t know they were still a thing nowadays, what with the rise of Only Fans and other more independent ways to go about making money like this.

Your eyes scan the page with agape lips. Men and women — some in their underwear and some already naked, some showing their faces and some wearing masks. And then, your eyes land on a particular thumbnail. At the Top Cammers of The Month section, on the number one spot, is a fully clothed man with familiar long black hair. Only the bottom of his face can be seen due to his camera angle, but that is more than enough as your gaze fixes on his full lips.

That’s undeniably Hyunjin. Your neighbor, Hyunjin.

Before you can make sense of your actions, your fingers are already hovering above the touchpad as you watch the thumbnail image change into a new one. Curiosity is eating away at you, and you can’t deny that your nosy mind is eager to finally see Hyunjin rather than only hear him.

Ultimately, you decide this is ridiculous.

But your twitching fingers brush against the touchpad just as you move to close your laptop, promptly clicking the live video, your screen now filled with the image of Hyunjin in his bedroom. He’s shirtless now, palming himself through his sweatpants — the same ones he wore this afternoon.

“You wanna know how clubbing went last night?” He says with a grin, and you now understand his incessant talking is merely him answering comments from his viewers. Various different names fly through the right side of your screen, some with tips attached to their comments and some simply drooling over Hyunjin as he essentially sits in front of the camera doing nothing.

A cocky smile is spread on his lips once you shift your attention back to him.

“I guess you’re good at following orders,” he chuckles. You then realize your laptop’s volume is on high, and the speaker’s noise permeates through your wall and into Hyunjin’s bedroom. Your eyes shoot open, and you scramble to find your earphones in your bed.

You’re gnawing on your bottom lip as you plug them in, suddenly too aware of the fact that he can hear you just as well as you can hear him. Hyunjin’s smile shifts into a small laugh, his hand wrapping around his length through his sweatpants, the firm outline of his cock straining against the fabric. You feel a tingling sensation spread through your body, your inner muscles clenching as you watch the way his hand squeezes along the thick outline, the muscles of his stomach contracting as he lets out a broken sigh.

This feels wrong, as if you’re nothing more than a pervert watching Hyunjin for your own pleasure. But then again, it was he who gave you the website address in the first place. Why else would he have done that if not for you to watch him?

“I have a special someone watching tonight,” he murmurs, and you can just imagine his gaze right now — his eyes hooded and piercing, locked onto the camera with the same intensity as when he looked at you earlier today.

Hyunjin’s hand reaches inside his sweatpants, withdrawing his cock from the constraints of the dark fabric before you can make sense of what’s happening. Your gaze remains fixed, unable to look away from the red, swollen head that stands out against his pale skin. With lazy movements, he begins stroking himself, the precum dripping from the tip easing the glide of his hand. You bite the inside of your cheek as more arousal leaks from you, gathering in your panties.

“Hope she likes watching just as much as she liked listening to me last night,” Hyunjin rasps out, and you immediately close your laptop, throwing it to the side before burying your face in your pillow.

He knows you got off to his voice. He has to know.

And, unfortunately, your brain is currently too clouded by lust to function properly, and the only logical solution you can come up with is to go knocking at his door tomorrow.

You stand in front of Hyunjin’s door at the same time as yesterday, a strange blend of anger and curiosity making you knock frantically until he answers with that annoyingly alluring smirk on his lips.

“Did you enjoy the show last night?” Hyunjin asks before you can even utter a word, his voice filled with a goading tone.

You push past him, walking into his apartment with a scowl. “Why did you send me that?”

He only shrugs, closing the door behind him before stretching his arms above his head with a sigh. “Needed you to understand why I can’t just stop doing what I do. It’s my job,” he reasons, “I figured showing you was more effective than telling you.”

A scoff involuntarily falls from your lips, and you fight back the urge to roll your eyes. “So you just sent me to a website full of porn without even asking me if that was okay? I don’t care if that’s your fucking job, I never asked you—”

“Did you stay till the end?” He asks, a lazy grin on his lips as his gaze wanders across your face. Clearly, he’d completely ignored every word that came out of your mouth.

“Hyunjin, are you even listening to me?”

“I was thinking about you, y’know?” He continues, taking a step toward you. “Was really easy to come when I knew you were watching me.” He cages your body against the door with his, both hands resting beside your head. His dark gaze locks onto you, causing your breath to hitch. “All I could think about was how you were secretly listening to me all this time. Such a dirty girl.”

Hyunjin clicks his tongue, shaking his head in feigned disappointment. You want to tell him you weren’t secretly listening to him; you were merely thrown into this situation against your will. But his gaze shifts from your eyes to your lips, lingering before roaming over the swell of your breasts, causing your thoughts to blur and your words to die in your throat.

“Kept thinking about how I never heard you,” he says, almost as if he’s wondering aloud. “When was the last time someone fucked you properly?”

His gaze finally travels back up to yours, and the fog of desire clouding his eyes is unmistakable. The moment you knocked on his door, you knew this would happen. You weren’t na��ve, and Hyunjin wasn’t stupid; the moment you pushed past him and into his apartment, you both knew where this was going.

“Don’t have time to go on dates,” you murmur as Hyunjin leans down, humming low on his throat.

“Well,” he whispers, the warmth of his breath tickling your face. “You got to listen to me, got to watch me… Don’t you wanna know what it feels like?”

You can only nod, and Hyunjin immediately presses his lips to yours in a searing kiss. He wedges his knee firmly between your thighs, as if he’s silently demanding that you give in to him. Little does he know you’re already way past that point.

Breaking the kiss, Hyunjin studies your features for a beat, the pad of his thumb gliding across your bottom lip as you look up at him with pleading eyes.

“You really want this?” He asks, and you can’t help but feel he does it simply for the pleasure of hearing you beg.

But you happily comply either way.

“Please,” you breathe out, and Hyunjin chuckles, firmly pressing his thumb into your mouth and watching as you wrap your lips around it with a contented hum. A smile tugs at the corner of his lips.

Hyunjin pushes his thigh against your core, the seam of your shorts creating a delicious friction against your clit. You can feel the warmth of his body as he presses up against you, and a sigh falls from your lips, your hands gliding up around his shoulders. You have no reservations left in your body; the only thing replaying inside your mind at the moment is the image of Hyunjin’s cock on your laptop. He was right. You were dying to know what it would feel like.

His strong hands firmly gripped onto your hips, guiding you to move against his thigh, each back-and-forth motion increasing the pressure on your aching clit. It felt too much, yet not enough at the same time. But just as you’re about to plead for more, Hyunjin’s pressing his lips to yours again and swallowing down your voice. His tongue slides against yours, the taste of coffee and smoke lingering in your mouth as he grazes your bottom lip with his teeth, pulling gently before letting go.

You feel your mind go fully hazy as Hyunjin lifts his thigh, bringing you up to your tiptoes, his muscles flexing and prompting you to roll your hips faster, harder.

“Who would’ve thought, huh? Just minutes ago you were acting like I was the worst person alive,” He lets out a low chuckle, amused, and your grip on his neck tightens as you feel the familiar vexation he brings out of you bubble up inside your chest. “Now you’re humping my leg like a bitch in heat.”

“Shut up,” you choke out, your brain too lust-hazed to conjure up a better response. You don’t particularly care what he thinks of you so long as he keeps his bruising grip on your skin, guiding you to roll your hips against him.

Hyunjin trails kisses down the skin of your neck, settling at the dip of your collarbone and sucking on the skin while you eagerly quicken your speed. His teeth nip at the sensitive skin, undoubtedly marking you, while his thigh begins to bounce against your cunt, and you can feel the familiar aching warmth of your orgasm beginning to tighten in your stomach. But just as you’re about to be hit by the release you’re so desperate for, Hyunjin’s hands leave your hips and slide down to your ass, any stimulation you had before coming to a halt as he picks you up and makes his way to the living room.

“What the fuck?” You all but yell, earning you a hearty laugh from Hyunjin. “I was close, you asshole.”

He roughly throws you onto the couch, a condescending pout etched onto his lips.

“But that’s no fun for me, is it, baby?” He hovers over you, spreading your thighs apart and slotting himself between them. In stark contrast to his words, he gently lifts your shirt over your head, feather-light touch sending shivers down your spine. “Greedy girls don’t get to come.”

You feel your insides clenching at his words, and although you despise the effect he has on you, you’re already here, laid out before him, so you might as well indulge him. You gently push Hyunjin back until he sinks into the sofa, legs lazily spread apart and half-lidded eyes fixated on you. As soon as you clutch at his shirt, he promptly tugs it over his head in one fluid motion, and you attach your lips to the bare skin of his stomach, trailing kisses down the expanse of his torso.

You waste no time tugging his sweatpants down and out of your way, his cock now hanging heavily before you, just as pretty as it had seemed on that little screen. Hyunjin’s hand soon wraps around himself, stroking lazily while you watch the precum dribble from his tip. Tentatively, you grab the base of his cock, bringing your tongue to the head and tantalizingly lapping at it. Hyunjin lets out a quiet gasp, his own hand leaving his length and tangling in your hair, guiding you forward toward his cock. You part your lips and suck the head into your waiting mouth, hands now stroking his length at a slow pace while you lick up his slit, the salty taste lingering on your tongue. You hold back a chuckle when you feel him twitch under your touch, a soft whimper falling from his throat.

Hyunjin’s hips buck up into your lips, and you promptly open your jaw wider and slide his whole length down your throat slowly. You weren’t lying when you said you had no time for dates, which is why you find yourself struggling a bit. It truly had been a while since you had a proper fuck, but you would never give Hyunjin the pleasure of hearing you admit it. Breathing through your nose, you’re finally able to move up and down his cock, swallowing all of him. Your eyes well up as his fingers tug harshly at your hair, shoving your mouth back down the entirety of his thick length. A choked-out whimper falls from your throat, and you instinctively move your gaze toward his.

“God,” he rasps out, teeth gnawing at his bottom lip and eyebrows knitting together. “You take me so well.”

You promptly remove your lips from him with a loud pop, precum and saliva dribbling down your chin as you struggle to suppress a laugh at the utter indignation on his face.

“I doubt you could fuck me if I let you come,” you shrug, and Hyunjin’s expression softens, a scoff falling from his lips.

Before you can say anything else, he’s already pushed you back onto the couch, easily flipping you over so your face is pressed into the cushion. He snakes a hand under your stomach and lifts your hips, quickly working to rid you of your shorts before pressing his cock against your clothed ass.

He leans down, lips pressed against your ear — much like it was in your fantasy back in your bedroom — and whispers, “You need me that badly? I can feel how soaked you are, and all you did was hump my leg.”

You grumble under your breath, but it goes ignored by Hyunjin as he grips your hips and slides his cock under the fabric of your panties, stroking himself along your soaking slit with a low groan. You can feel your underwear gradually dampen more as his precum mixes with your own arousal, the sheer cloth clinging to his cock with each thrust.

Hyunjin’s hand splayed across your lower back, causing you to arch your body and press your hips back instinctively. He chuckles, hand coming down onto the supper flesh of your ass with no warning, a sharp whimper falling from your lips.

“I told you greedy girls don’t get to come,” He reiterates, clicking his tongue and grabbing a large handful of your ass before tugging your panties down your legs. You quietly hoped the trees outside obscured enough of his window, otherwise you’d be in for some interesting elevator rides with your other neighbors. With a hiss, Hyunjin’s thumb presses against your clit before gliding along your wet folds. “Soaking wet,” he mutters, eyes glazed over while he watches your slick coat his finger.

You simply hum, not wanting to stroke his ego any more than you already had by begging him earlier. But you’re unable to contain the gasp that leaves your lips as he pushes his hips forward, the swollen tip of his cock gliding against your warm core once, twice, all while Hyunjin’s hands travel across your ass and thighs. You’re sure he’ll tease you until you give in and beg, but it seems his facade is quick to crumble. He impatiently wraps a hand around his length, finally guiding himself toward your entrance, seamlessly gliding into you with a heavy sigh.

He stills for a second, gaze transfixed by the way your cunt stretches around his thick cock. Until he suddenly pulls out of you before snapping his hips forward again, then again, until he sets a rhythm of deep, fast strokes that have you rocking back and forth on the couch. Pulling yourself up to rest on your forearms, you choke out a loud moan, Hyunjin’s cock twitching inside you at the sound. 

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” He groans, strong arms encircling your body once more, this time pulling you close to him until your back presses against his chest. Hyunjin’s thrusts grew more forceful, the sound of skin slapping together echoing through his small living room as he relentlessly pumped himself into you. His hand wraps in your hair, yanking your head back and humming against your ear, “Go on, you can moan for me,” he hisses, “I know how good it feels.”

Fuck. His ego is surely something you would never get used to.

But you let go, freely groaning at the feeling of his cock pistoning into you. You can feel the curve of his grin against your cheek.

“Like that, I know how much you like it,” he rasps out, “Just as much as you liked touching yourself to my voice like a little slut.”

“Fuck off, you—” you huff, your words cut off by a drawn-out mewl as Hyunjin’s fingers firmly pressed down on your clit, flattening the swollen bud. You couldn’t control yourself after that, desperate whimpers and choked-out moans falling from your lips with each harsh thrust of his hips.

Your sounds seem to stir something inside of him, and his movements grow more erratic, his fingers circling your clit hastily. A crescendo of arousal and pleasure envelops you as more curses tumble from Hyunjin’s lips against your ear, his hand gripping your cheek and pulling you into a messy kiss.

You clench around him, body shaking with the force of your climax as you seek Hyunjin’s arm wrapped around your body for purchase. He continues pounding into you, and you feel yourself squirm, your vision going blurry from the stimulation.

“Gonna come,” he hisses against your lips, “Where do you want it?”

And you’re too far gone at this point, whimpering, “Anywhere you want.”

Hyunjin curses under his breath, pulling out while his hand finds your lower back once more, pushing you onto the couch before flipping your pliant body over so you’re facing him. You watch with hazy eyes as he strokes himself feverishly over your body, his cum soon shooting onto your breasts.

His unreadable gaze lingers on you for a beat and a half before he nonchalantly tucks himself back into his sweatpants and heads toward the hallway. You sit up on the couch, limbs aching, and chuckle to yourself. This was not your proudest moment, but you surely didn’t regret it.

You don’t expect aftercare from someone like him, so you resign yourself to searching for your discarded shirt. But Hyunjin’s tall frame appears before you, towel in hand before you can even stand up. His touch is gentle as he cleans your chest, and although the gesture is somewhat sweet, it feels extremely awkward.

“Really liked fucking you,” he tells you with a grin, “But you gotta leave now. I’m going live later, and I also gotta go to the club tonight, so I have to rest. But it was fun.”

And you simply scoff at his words, rising to your feet to dress yourself as quickly as possible. It was a bit baffling how he could fuck you the way he did, then tell you he’s off to pick up more girls at a club immediately after. But what did you expect? Hyunjin’s ego and arrogance were clear to you from day one.

“Why the fuck do you go clubbing so much, anyway?” You question as you head toward the front door, and Hyunjin chuckles behind you. “Is that your hunting ground or something?”

“You could say that,” he simply says.

As you unlock his door and step out into the hallway, Hyunjin’s voice calls out to you. Turning to look at him, you’re met with that familiar smirk adorning his lips.

“We can do this again anytime you want,” he assures, and the mere thought of letting him touch you again makes you roll your eyes in disdain.

“Yeah right.”

If only you knew then just how awfully torturous it would be to listen to him, knowing what he was doing — most importantly, knowing what it felt like to have him.

Lust completely clouds your judgment when it comes to Hyunjin, and you soon find yourself coming back to his apartment until it becomes an annoyingly pleasurable habit.

Every day, when he hears you get home from work, your phone buzzes with a text asking that you come over and help him ‘warm up for his job.’ The nights of suffering in your bedroom have transformed into watching him from the corner of his room, enthralled with the way he can make himself come on camera so eagerly and later fuck you with just as much vigor.

It’s a nice arrangement, but definitely not one you see yourself in for the long run. Hyunjin might kiss you and hold you close as he fucks you, but you’re not foolish enough to anchor your feelings to someone like him. It’s not his job that’s the problem, but mostly his attitude toward life. He belongs to nobody, while you yearn to belong to someone. Routine is the last thing on his mind, while you revel in its comfort. You could never be with someone like him.

But it is a nice arrangement.

So you find yourself back in his bed again today, his heavy cock in your mouth as he tugs harshly on your hair, painting the back of your throat with his cum. Except this time, he doesn’t immediately ask you to leave.

“What?” You ask, “Don’t you have to go clubbing or something?”

“It’s my day off,” he shrugs, his arms wrapping around you as he pulls you close and falls back into bed. You furrow your brows, detangling yourself from him.

“Day off? From what, picking up girls?”

Hyunjin chuckles, eyes sleepy. “I work at the club,” he simply says. “I’m a host, I just act like I go clubbing when I talk about it during my lives ‘cause my viewers can be a bit stalkery.”

“What?”

“Have you heard of The Siren?” He asks, and you hum, recalling a faint memory of some of your co-workers mentioning the club in passing. “That’s where I work.”

You nod slowly, still confused. “What exactly does a host do?”

“Well, basically, I get to make money just by making lonely women feel wanted.”

You can’t help but scoff at his crude description. “And do you fuck them?”

“Well, yeah,” he answers like it’s obvious. “It’s part of the job.”

“Fucking hell,” You let out a hearty laugh, to which Hyunjin shoots you a questioning look. “Your sex drive really should be studied.”

His lips upturn into a smirk, and his arms reach for you again, beckoning you back into his embrace. “No need to be jealous, baby. I only fuck them if they’re willing to pay, and I’m expensive.”

You roll your eyes, allowing him to pull you into his chest. He threads his fingers through your hair, and you can’t help but feel… awkward.

“You’re kind of an asshole, Hyunjin.”

He hums. “Sure, but you still let me fuck you.”

You two stay that way for a while, his fingers massaging your scalp as he presses a kiss to your head now and then. It feels disorienting, like a sudden shift from everything Hyunjin had been until now. He was never caring or sweet, he never kissed you if you weren’t fucking, and he surely never cuddled you. Your face involuntarily contorts into a grimace.

You detach yourself from him, getting up from the bed and telling him you’ll see him later. But Hyunjin is grabbing at your arm with a smile.

“Come on, don’t be sad,” he giggles as you try to free yourself from his grip. “I’m really not the type of guy you should have fallen for, anyway.”

You still at his words, face contorting into pure befuddlement. “Fallen for? Who the fuck says I’ve fallen for you?”

And Hyunjin simply scoffs, letting go of your arm as his smile shifts into his characteristic grin. “Well, there’s a reason I’m number one among the hosts at The Siren.”

“Hyunjin, those girls aren’t exactly after you for your personality,” you deadpan. “You’re really nothing worth falling for.”

His grin slowly fades, and it’s his turn to have confusion take hold in his eyes. “What?”

You can tell he wasn’t expecting this. Almost as if he was expecting you to have truly fallen for him simply because he… is him. And you can’t help but chuckle at the situation.

“Hyunjin,” you call out to him sweetly, and his gaze is back on you immediately. “You’re a nice fuck, but that’s really it. Don’t worry about me falling for you.”

You can swear you see a flicker of hurt in his eyes, but it’s likely only your imagination. He opens his lips to speak but promptly closes them again. He simply stares up at you from where he’s sat on the bed and almost looks sweet. If you didn’t know him, you would undoubtedly be charmed by this convincing facade. You have to give it to him; you do understand why he’s number one at his job.

“But…” He trails off, shaking his head. “But I’ll see you again tomorrow, right?”

“Sure,” you shrug. “We can keep fucking until I find something better.”

You run your fingers through his long hair and make your way to the door, leaving him with an expression frozen in bewilderment.

Hyunjin might kiss you and hold you close as he fucks you, but he’ll never be yours.

But that’s not a problem, as you surely will never be his as well.

♡ taglist: @bloom-ings, @linocz, @farahia, @mirbokk, @jisunglyricist, @jazziwritesthings

[edenesth]

TWTHH Spinoff: Little Touch of Heaven [1]

Pairing: physician!Yunho x herbalist!reader

AU: historical au (Joseon era)

Word Count: 5k

Summary: Dedicating his life to his work, Yunho had never bothered to entertain the idea of settling down. Despite encountering many charming women throughout his career, none had sparked his desire for companionship. But everything shifted when he met a certain herbalist whose medicinal knowledge seemed to surpass even his own. What began as mere intrigue might have gradually developed into affection.

A/N: As stated in the title, this is a spinoff. If you have yet to check out the main story, it's probably better to read that before starting this.

Main Story | Spinoff Masterlist | Part 2

"Are you still here, sunshine? It's way past closing time. Come on now, let's head home soon. Your mother will be worried if we take too long," your father called out from the backdoor of his apothecary, where you were diligently working in the backyard farm responsible for growing and harvesting all the herbs he required to make his medicines.

You sighed, gazing at the new batch of seeds you had just planted and still needed to water, "Uhh... you go on without me first, father. I'll join you as soon as I'm finished with this latest batch of ginseng."

The elderly man shook his head in resignation, "Alright, but don't say I didn't warn you. Be prepared for an earful from the lioness at home if you're late for dinner."

Chortling, you playfully stuck your tongue out at him, "Worry about yourself first! I'll tell mother dearest you called her a lioness," you waved him off as he sputtered in disbelief, panicking and giving you all the reasons you shouldn't say such a thing. But you only shook your head, finding your old dad incredibly adorable. That's why you couldn't resist teasing him every chance you got.

"Go home, father. I was just teasing you, geez," you reassured with a cheeky grin, watching as he huffed and grabbed his bag, "I'm going then. Hurry up, sunshine. And be careful on your way home."

"I will. You be careful too. I'll see you in a bit," you said, quickly returning your attention to your work. It was only then that you realised your stomach was beginning to growl with hunger at the thought of your mother's cooking. With no time to waste, you hastily completed the remaining tasks.

After finishing up, a contented sigh escaped you as you dusted off your hands and admired the fruits of your labour. Despite years of repetition, you couldn't imagine ever growing tired of this routine. Your father's apothecary had been a fixture long before your birth. Your mother had been one of his loyal customers, initially seeking medicine for her ailing father. However, as time passed, her visits seemed motivated by more than just medicinal needs.

It didn't take long for them to realise their love for each other, and they soon married. In the early days, your mother continued to assist your father with herb growing and harvesting, even after your arrival. Growing up, you spent your childhood amidst the sights and smells of the apothecary, playing and observing as your parents toiled away.

As you matured, your curiosity blossomed into genuine interest, prompting you to actively participate in and learn about herbalism. With your mother's growing age and declining health, she was eventually advised to retire and stay home, leaving you to take over her responsibilities in the apothecary. However, unlike her, you insisted on handling the planting of herbs alone, sparing your elderly father from further strain. Instead, he managed the less physically demanding tasks such as medicine-making and store management.

Locking up the apothecary doors, you began your trek home, you observed the families and couples passing you with a small smile on your face. While you couldn't exactly relate to most people, having spent most, if not all, of your time in the back of your father's store growing up, you couldn't be any happier than you are now.

You had no desire to venture out, make new acquaintances, or seek friendships. Your simple life brought you contentment, and you cherished the strong bond you shared with your parents. Grateful for the absence of hardship and discontent, you had no yearning for wealth or extravagance. Engaging in what you loved, even if it meant remaining within the confines of the apothecary indefinitely, filled you with immense satisfaction. You were perfectly content staying right where you were, surrounded by the familiar warmth of your family and the comforting aroma of herbs.

I could do this forever.

"I'm home!" you called out cheerfully as you stepped into your humble abode. It was a decent-sized house with all the essentials, providing everything your family needed. Despite the success of the apothecary and its financial stability, your parents saw no reason to move to a larger residence. Attachment and sentimental value outweighed any desire for more space.

Everything in your home remained in excellent condition, thanks to your mother's meticulous care, and that was all that mattered. As soon as you entered, she cooed and rushed over to envelop you in a warm hug, "Oh, my dearest little sunshine is home!"

You grinned at your father, who rolled his eyes in mock jealousy. Unlike you, he had returned home only to be lectured for allowing you to walk home alone instead of waiting for you. It was almost ironic how he had warned you about being scolded, only for the roles to be reversed.

It didn't take long before a smile spread across his features; your father was one of the sweetest men you'd ever known. But you hadn't met many people, given that most of your time was spent in the back of his shop. Even then, one thing was certain: he was good to you and even better to your mother.

You had never witnessed him raise his voice, regardless of how upset he might be. He always remained patient, letting his wife do all the yelling. And at the end of the day, he would go to great lengths to make her smile again, ensuring she never went to bed angry. If you were to find a husband, you'd want someone like your father.

Fortunately, you inherited his cheerful personality when you were born. You were truly a bundle of joy since entering this world, earning the nickname 'sunshine' from your parents. No matter how bleak their days became, your bright presence would always illuminate everything. You couldn't recall ever having a particularly bad day, and you hoped things would stay that way forever.

As you settled into your seat at the dining table, your bowl was instantly filled to the brim with your favourite dishes. Your mother chimed in, "Eat up, sunshine. You need to replenish all that energy you've lost from working so hard." The aroma tantalised your senses, and you couldn't help but salivate, "Thank you for the food, mother!" you exclaimed, immediately digging in, feeling famished to the point where you felt like you could devour an entire cow.

"Woah, woah, slow down. They're all yours, silly girl," your father cautioned, shaking his head at your unladylike eating habits, "I'm telling you, no guy will be attracted to you if you eat like that in public."

You pouted, retorting, "If he truly loves me, he'll accept me for who I am." Your mother gently tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, "While that's true, I'm starting to worry that you might never attract anyone at all, since you're always at home or hiding in the back of the store," she confessed, setting down her chopsticks, "I've been feeling slightly better lately. Maybe I could return to the store occasionally, and you could finally go out and meet some boys—"

Shaking your head, you cut her off, "Nice try, mother, but that's not happening. Be good and stay home if you don't want me and father to worry. Besides, I don't need a man to complete me. I'm content as it is. All I need is the two of you by my side."

Unbeknownst to you, your parents harboured fears about exactly that. They knew they wouldn't be around forever, and once they were gone, who would take care of you? The thought of leaving their precious little girl behind all alone in this world filled them with dread.

The elderly man pondered for a moment, unwilling to let go of the topic so easily, "How about you come and help in the store once in a while? That way, you'd still have the chance to interact with some of the customers, and who knows, you might meet someone the same way your mother and I met each other."

You giggled, watching as they exchanged affectionate glances, their hands intertwining on the table, "That's cute, but no thank you, father. The farm isn't going to tend to itself, and before you offer, I refuse to let you perform such hard labour. Your body can't handle it; please don't make me worry. I'll be just fine, I promise."

You're fine, sunshine, but we're not.

Your parents sighed, disappointed by your refusal. At this stage, they could only hope for some miracle to happen, allowing you to meet a kind man who would care for you when they no longer could.

But maybe that miracle wasn't as distant as they thought. Maybe there was no need for your parents to be so concerned. Maybe things were about to change very soon. Perhaps your parents had prayed earnestly enough, and perhaps the heavens had finally chosen to answer those prayers.

"Tell me what you need, and I'll assist you," Jongho offered as soon as the physician finished briefing the head maid on all the tasks she would now have to handle, especially with Lady Park's pregnancy encountering difficulties and depending on him. With a shake of his head, Yunho smiled at the assistant, "It's fine, I've got it covered. Eunsook knows what to do while I'm away. Now if you'll excuse me, I should probably head to the apothecary for some herbs."

As the doctor made his way to the apothecary where he sourced medicines and herbs for his clinic, his mind raced with plans on which herbs would best suit the case at hand. It had been some time since he last treated a pregnant woman or dealt with pregnancy-related issues like this, and he couldn't deny feeling a bit rusty in this area. If only he had foreseen this, he might have brushed up on his studies, but the urgency of the situation caught him off guard.

He could still recall how urgently he had been summoned. Jongho had barged into his clinic, leaving him with no choice but to close up immediately. He wondered if he should have anticipated the pregnancy, especially given the general's desire for alone time with his wife. Perhaps he had been foolish not to prepare beforehand; he should have seen this coming. But there was no time to chastise himself over it now. His focus needed to be on ensuring Seonghwa's baby safely reached the three-month mark.

"Ah, finally, we're here," he murmured to himself as soon as the familiar store with the sign 'Ryu's Apothecary' came into view.

Without hesitation, he entered the establishment he knew like the back of his hand. This was the only place he trusted for all his medicines and herbs; he had known the owner for years. Mr. Ryu truly was one of the kindest apothecaries, never overcharging him and sometimes even offering discounts and deals for his loyalty. Just when Yunho thought they were close enough for him to know everything about the elderly man, today seemed to prove otherwise.

Perhaps he didn't know nearly enough.

"Mr. Ryu, I'm afraid I'll need all your raspberry and peppermint leaf supply for the day. Lady Park hasn't been doing too well in the early stages of her pregnancy," the physician announced upon entering the apothecary where he regularly obtained his medicines and herbs, his eyes busily scanning around for anything else that could be useful.

"Is that so? You might want to consider our latest batch of Codonopsis root imported directly from China just a week ago. It's highly effective in boosting vital energy and reducing fatigue during pregnancy."

Yunho's head shot up in surprise.

First of all, why hadn't he thought of that before? More importantly, the feminine voice addressing him sounded nothing like the elderly man who usually managed the store. He turned to find a young woman behind the counter, his eyes widening in astonishment.

"O-oh, um... hello there. I didn't realise Mr. Ryu had such a young wife," he blurted out before cursing himself, feeling embarrassed for making such a hasty assumption.

Your face immediately twisted in disgust, "Goodness gracious, you're severely mistaken! I'm his daughter!"

Way to go, you complete idiot!

The physician immediately bowed, overwhelmed with embarrassment as he offered his apology, "I-I apologise, Miss Ryu! I don't know what made me say that. It's just that I'm used to seeing only your father here. Seeing someone else caught me off guard."

Blinking rapidly, he hoped he wasn't visibly blushing. He had known the elderly man for so long and hadn't the slightest clue he even had a daughter, and such a pretty one too. Making such a mistake on their first meeting was unbelievable to him. He rarely found himself flustered and struggled to maintain his usually composed demeanour.

Good lord, did he really just say that?

You could only sigh; this was precisely why you didn't want to be out here in the store. It was only your first time in your father's place, and this was the first thing that happened. Off to a bad start already, you wouldn't be surprised if this trend continued with some of the other customers later on. It felt like your father had jinxed it at dinner that evening; shortly after, your mother fell sick, leaving him no choice but to stay home and care for her. In the meantime, you were left with no option but to manage the store.

Determined to put the incident behind you, you shook your head, reassuring the physician, "It's fine, sir. My father has to stay home due to an emergency, but fear not, he should be back in a few days to man the store as usual. So, would you be interested in those Codonopsis roots? I could pack some for you as well."

"Y-yes, please. Thank you for the recommendation, Miss Ryu; I really appreciate it," he said, stepping over sheepishly towards the counter.

"No problem, sir," you responded politely, busy packing the raspberry and peppermint leaf he had requested along with some of the Chinese herbs you had suggested.

You calling him 'sir' only reminded him that you still didn't know his name. For the first time in forever, not knowing what to do with his hands, he intertwined them behind his back and cleared his throat, "Uhh... my name is Jung Yunho, by the way. I'm the—"

"Oh, so it's you!" you cut him off, nodding in recognition with raised brows, "I know you; I've heard plenty about you from my father. I know you're the great General Park's family doctor," you continued with a shrug, "But of course, I should've figured that out when you mentioned a certain Lady Park's pregnancy. Huh, it's good to know they're having a baby soon. And before I go off on a tangent, more importantly, you're known to be one of the best physicians in town."

With a light chuckle, he shook his head modestly, "Well, I'm clearly not the best if I couldn't even think to use Codonopsis root."

Furrowing your brows slightly, you countered, "I don't see how that has anything to do with your abilities. That's because you're a physician, not a herbalist. Experts like me are here for that. While we may know which herbs are best used to treat what, herbalists obviously cannot diagnose patients. See, that's our difference and why we coexist to help one another."

Listening to you speak, Yunho felt thoroughly impressed. He couldn't deny that he had always believed he was the smartest person in the room, given his medical expertise and role as the famous general's personal doctor. People often revered him for being at the top of his field. At some point, he had almost convinced himself that there was nobody who could teach him anything new.

But your words made him reconsider.

He hadn't expected to meet someone who could humble him and make him realise he still had much to learn. Especially not a young woman like you, the daughter of an apothecary, a herbalist.

"In that case, Miss Ryu, what else would you recommend for an unstable early pregnancy? You see, the general's wife suffered from severe malnutrition throughout her childhood, and her body is now lacking enough nutrients for both her and her baby," he asked, deciding to set aside his pride and seek help. Seonghwa was relying on him, and he couldn't risk anything happening to Lady Park or the baby.

Finishing up the last of his orders, you hummed in thought, "Actually, there is another medicine that could help. It's a well-known Chinese herb my father has sold to some customers facing similar problems," you explained as you retrieved a box of medicine from the cabinet behind you. Opening it revealed a brown block of medicine he had never seen before, "This one also arrived not too long ago from China. It's called Colla Corii Asini, and it nourishes the kidney while preventing miscarriage. Perhaps this is what Lady Park needs."

"Thank you so much, that sounds perfect," he breathed out in relief, finally feeling a glimmer of hope. You shook your head with a small smile to indicate 'no worries.' As he prepared to make his payment, he asked, "Um, I was just wondering... why haven't I seen you before? I mean, you're Mr. Ryu's daughter and—"

You shrugged, "I'm in charge of growing and harvesting all the herbs we sell, so I'm usually on the farm at the back of the store."

"Ohh... so, you are the genius behind all these herbs," he nodded slowly in wonder, standing there after completing his payment, hands full with the herbs you'd packed for him. Intrigued by your knowledge, he mustered the courage to ask, "I know I'm probably asking too much, but... w-would it be okay for me to come over frequently and learn more about herbs from you? You know, to improve as a medical practitioner."

You shrugged again, "Sure, suit yourself."

Yes, she said yes!

Deep down, he didn't want this to be his first and last time seeing you. He rationalised it, telling himself you were simply an intriguing person. He hadn't encountered anyone as passionate about healing and herbs, someone who possessed more knowledge than he did. He was just eager to learn more.

That had to be the only reason.

It had to be.

"Has the mistress been feeling any better?" the physician inquired eagerly, anxiously awaiting Eunsook's response. He had returned to the general's estate a few days after administering the first batch of the medicine you had recommended.

Beaming, the head maid exclaimed, "Oh, those medications worked like magic! The fatigue and morning sickness improved immensely just a day after she started taking the medicine. You're amazing, Physician Jung! I knew we could count on you!"

It wasn't me at all, it was all her.

"That's good to know, Eunsook! I couldn't have done it without the help of a very talented herbalist. Well then, I'll be back in another few days with more of those herbs," he said eagerly, already looking forward to returning to the apothecary to share the news with you.

The elderly woman bowed, "Of course! And please extend our thanks to this kind herbalist friend of yours, we definitely could use more experts like him around—"

"Her. She's a female herbalist, and you're right, we do need more talents like Miss Ryu around," Yunho quickly corrected.

Blinking rapidly, Eunsook nodded with a slightly knowing smile, "Oh, my apologies. I shouldn't have assumed her gender, but yes, please offer Miss Ryu our sincere gratitude."

"Don't worry, I will."

As he approached the apothecary, his heart seemed to quicken at the thought of seeing you again, though he couldn't pinpoint the exact reason why. Perhaps he was simply eager to make a new friend who shared his passion for medicine. Besides, he couldn't deny his admiration for your extensive knowledge of herbs, despite your young age. You seemed to surpass even some of the more experienced practitioners in his field.

Truthfully, he genuinely desired to learn more about herbs from you. The prospect of befriending you held great potential for him; he envisioned you as a valuable ally who could aid in his continuous growth as a physician. Together, with his medical expertise and your herbal knowledge, you could make a formidable team, contributing significantly to society together.

"Oh, Physician Jung! How can I help you today?" Mr. Ryu, your father, greeted him upon his entrance. For once, the doctor seemed rather flustered as he approached the counter, "Oh, uhh... I'm not here for medicine today. I came to see your daughter. Please don't take this the wrong way!" he hurriedly added, "She said I could come to learn more about herbs from her, so I—"

Your father's eyes widened in excitement as Yunho rambled on. While he didn't like the fact that his wife had to fall sick for him to finally be away from the store, it must have been a blessing in disguise because now his daughter had finally met someone, and not just anyone, but the amazing Physician Jung. Oh, he would be able to die happy if this was to be his future son-in-law.

With a little snicker, the elderly man nodded, "Ah, I see you've met my little sunshine while I was away. No need to explain yourself, I believe you. Now if you'll come with me, she's just at the back of the store."

"Here, just head straight ahead, and you should find her somewhere within the plantations," your father said, nodding his head down the hallway leading to the back of the store, "I'd take you there myself, but I don't think I should leave the store unattended."

"I've got it, Mr. Ryu, thank you."

As he walked down the hallway as instructed by Mr. Ryu, the physician wondered how the elderly man would have reacted if he knew Yunho had mistaken his dear daughter for his wife during their first meeting. That would surely ruin the image of perfection he had consistently been upholding.

But why would that matter?

The apothecary would continue to value him as a customer. Why was he suddenly concerned about how your father would view him? The direction of his own thoughts was beginning to baffle him.

Before he could become lost in his thoughts, he reached the farm and was struck by its beauty and meticulous upkeep. His admiration for you swelled, knowing that it was your work that had created such a splendid place. Ryu's Apothecary was known for its top-notch herbs and medicine, and now he understood why. His respect for you grew immensely, realising that you were the mastermind behind it all. After taking in the full view of the farm, he finally spotted you.

Is that what a fairy looks like?

The moment he spotted you amidst the herbs you were planting, he felt as if his breath had been stolen away. He already thought you were pretty before, but now, seeing you in your white and blue hanbok among the lush greenery, passionately engaged in your work, you looked even more enchanting to him.

"Ah, Physician Jung, you're here!" you exclaimed, pulling him out of his reverie with a wave of your hand, "Hurry over, I'm about to harvest this batch of Sophora roots. There's probably some valuable information here for you to learn from this."

"Right away, Miss Ryu!" he replied eagerly, rushing over to join you.

Without delay, you plunged into your work while explaining the herb to him, "This, right here, is the Sophora flavescens, native to China and Japan. Its antibacterial, antiviral, and antifungal properties make it useful in treating conditions such as damaged livers, jaundice, eczema, ulcers, and more. I know it looks nothing like the completed product you're used to seeing, but that's because it requires several seasons of drying after harvesting before it's ready for use."

While he knew he should focus on the herbs, he found it difficult to tear his gaze away from your face. The subtle furrow of your brows and the delicate bite of your lips when you weren't speaking—adorable. Wait, did he really just think that? He'd never had such thoughts before. Sure, he'd treated plenty of beautiful ladies throughout his career, but this occurrence was a first.

"Interestingly, this plant can grow up to 5 to 7 feet tall. Even taller than you, isn't it quite amazing?" you remarked, noticing his lack of response. Frowning, you turned to him and sighed when you realised he wasn't paying attention. With a gentle nudge on his shoulder, you snapped him out of his trance.

"O-oh, sorry, you were saying?" he muttered, embarrassed to be caught zoning out.

"I... never mind. Could you please fetch the root puller from that tool rack?" you requested, opting to delegate rather than have him kneel in the dirt beside you. Perhaps he was starting to regret coming here, realising it wasn't his cup of tea. Not that you minded; he could leave if he wanted to. After all, he was the one who asked to be here. The least he could do was listen.

"Absolutely!" he responded, heading toward the tool rack to retrieve what you asked for.

Making his way toward the tool rack, he chastised himself for leaving such a poor impression. It was only your first session together, yet he was struggling to stay focused. Gosh, you must be judging him so hard right now, and he couldn't even blame you. You were kind enough to share your knowledge of herbs at his request, and here he was, lost in daydreams instead of paying attention. Determined to redeem himself, he resolved to be more useful.

Pull yourself together, Jung Yunho.

However, the doctor was so absorbed in his thoughts that he failed to notice the patch of ground still damp from your earlier watering. You did a double-take when you saw him unknowingly heading towards the wet path instead of taking the drier route.

"Wait, Physician Jung! You'll slip and fall if you go that way!" Your words of warning went unheeded, and you sprang up from your position on the ground in alarm, "Yunho! Yah, Jung Yunho!" In a panic, you dashed toward him, your eyes widening as he stepped onto the wet soil just as you reached out to grab his arm and redirect him.

But it was too late.

"You bloody idiot!" Your shout echoed across the farm as he let out a yelp, his arms instinctively encircling you as he toppled backwards, shielding you from the fall as he landed on the wet ground.

Your breath caught as you landed on his chest, faces mere inches apart, hearts racing. Huh, how have you not realised how good-looking he actually is? Wait, what? Before either of you could react, your father's voice rang out from the entrance, "Oh dear, what's with all the shouting, sunshine? Is everything alright—"

"F-father, I can explain..."

The apothecary blinked at the unexpected sight before him: his daughter atop the handsome and intelligent Physician Jung. God must have heard his prayers. With a grin, he chuckled, "Well, well! Seems like everything's more than alright! I won't intrude any further. Back to work for me!"

"N-no, Mr. Ryu! It's not like that at all!"

With a gulp, he turned to face you again, only to find you glaring down at him, "Let me go," you muttered, and he immediately loosened his grip, "O-oh, my bad." He moved to sit up as soon as you were off him, only to smile sheepishly up at you when he felt the back of his outfit completely soaked. Not only did he fail to help you with anything, but he was now causing you more trouble.

Taking a deep breath to calm yourself, you raised a fist threateningly towards him, "I'll get you some new clothes to change into. Stay here and don't move, or else..."

"Y-yes, ma'am."

« Preview of Part 2 »

"Oh, my poor Yunho. I can't believe that happened," Lady Park cooed, trying to suppress her laughter as she comforted the flustered physician after completing her weekly check-up. He was really beginning to regret his decision to confide in her.

"I shouldn't have told you about it, ugh. And to think you'd be the only one not to tease me," he grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest and turning away from her.

Lady Park softened, "I'm not teasing you, silly. You're always so serious and uptight, it's just refreshing to see you like this for once. Besides, there's nothing wrong with having feelings for someone, especially at your age. You should really consider settling down."

He scoffed, a blush creeping up his cheeks, "What? That's funny, I-I didn't say anything about liking anyone, my lady."

"You don't have to. It's written all over your handsome face," she smiled knowingly, "Hwa has that same look often, so I think I'd know better than you, Physician Jung."

Perhaps she had a point; he still couldn't shake the memory of that incident from his mind. The sensation of holding you close lingered, strangely comforting. He started to grasp why couples found solace in such intimacy. Maybe the idea of settling down, and having someone to come home to after a long day wouldn't be so bad. Maybe—

"What are you two talking about? Didn't the check-up end ages ago?" the general's voice jolted him back to the present.

"Nothing at all, my lord," he stammered, caught off guard.

Seonghwa arched an eyebrow sceptically, "You really expect me to believe you'd spent an hour talking about nothing with my wife? So, what were you doing together then?"

"Oh my god, nothing! We just talked, okay?"

"Right, now fill me in. Suit yourself if you don't want to. My wife will tell me everything eventually; just so you know, we don't keep secrets from each other."

Slapping a palm against his forehead, the physician wished he'd kept his mouth shut, "Alright, but promise not to tell anyone. If Hongjoong catches wind of this, I'll never hear the end of it."

"Deal."

Holy sheeeet, thank you all so much for 1.7k followers! I was sleep-deprived asf while proofreading lmao I hope this one was decent HAHA I promise the next part will be more interesting!

As always, thank you for reading and let me know your thoughts! <3

Tag list (1/9): Tumblr is a bitch and won't let me mention more than 5 users in a single sentence, so now my tag list looks like a complete joke🤡

@itstheghostofmypast @huachengsbestie01 @minghaoslatina @weedforthoughtz @minkiflwr |

@cheolliehugs @the-kpop-simp @writingwieny @stayatinykatsy @skzline |

@green-agent @stayinhellevator @vampzity @tinyteezer @evidive |

@vantediary @superbbananananana @kimyeolchan @chocolate-scoups @decadentstrangernacho |

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All Rights Reserved © edenesth // DO NOT REPOST, TRANSLATE, PLAGIARISE OR REPURPOSE.

[simpxxstan]

i’ve just finished reading your wonwoo!fics from the 550 followers event and i decided i need to request something myself because they were just TOO GOOD

given that, i thought about police officer!wonwoo (or mingyu, i wouldn’t mind—) who’s like super handsome and hot and all but also super nice and helpful and loves cats and—

and maybe he’s living in the same neighbourhood as y/n and they just feel drawn towards each other? idk, i’m not really good at making up scenarios 😭😭

it can go both ways, starting fluffy and then get smutty or angsty, everything’s gonna be fine <3

all i know is that i need to read something from you again 🫶🏼🫶🏼

THANK YOU FOR THE REQUEST! so firstly, I apologise if I disappoint you because instead of wonu, I did mingyu, because I had this wildest fantasy about him but I hope you like it still!! And I also added a few twists in the plot, because I wanted to spice it up a bit. I really pray you'll enjoy my version too!

this is part of my 550 followers celebration event! find the rest of the content of this event here!

also, thank you to everyone who's interacted with the event <333 your enthusiasm is so so much appreciated! the event is still on till the end of this month so you can still send in requests, my inbox is open hehe :) also to those who have sent in requests, T_T i am SOR SORRY for making you wait but honestly i am trying my best :((( i will answer your request as soon as i can, thank you for your patience <3

genre: strangers to lovers, police and criminal au, smut, fluff, neighbours au

word count: 5k words

warnings: 18+ NSFW MINORS DO NOT INTERACT police officer!mingyu, discussions of illegal racing, gangs, criminals, criminal activities, gambling (but nothing is explicit except the racing activities). smut warnings: unprotected sex (please please do not do this irl), almost public sex, oral (m. receiving), making out, usage of pet names, size kink, mingyu's a perv for reader

It's been six months since Mingyu has shifted to this town, and he's not regretted it a single day. it's a wonderful, quaint little town, on the edge of the city, that's close enough to the hustle but far enough to not be a site for trouble. The people are lovely and they've really accepted him with a full heart- the old ladies who bring him their delicious cooked food during his lunch breaks, the young boys who follow his gym routine meticulously, the mothers who either shamelessly flirt with him or try to set up their children with him, the fathers who pat his back proudly after a long day of work, the children who run around his clean police station with curious eyes.

After his busy five years in his posting at the city, this feels like heaven to him. He had joined the force in his craving for adrenaline and his innate nature of being helpful to everyone had driven him deeper into the profession. But he's twenty-seven now, and maturity has dampened the fire within his soul, although not his desire for social peace and justice- hence his choice to shift here.

It's not a town renowned for crime, and most of his days are peaceful with minor reports of petty theft or pickpocketing. But Mingyu has his fair share of excitement- being on the outskirts of the city, the edges of the town are less tame than the heart of it. It's a den for many gangs- all linked by the illegal racing grounds outside the town. Mingyu doesn't have any way to reach the gangs- they're being pursued by the force in the bigger cities with far more resources than sanctioned to his police station. But he tries to ensure the gangs and their dirty business doesn't get into his town. And Mingyu has his hands full with it.

But being busy keeps Mingyu happy. He's loved by the townsfolk and he's found a kind of peace here, different and yet beautiful. It's a slow town, and he's fallen into a routine that's good for his slowing-down body and his slowing-down mind.

So it's been a long, long day of work and at the end of the week, he's tired and ready to fall into his bed after eating anything that's in the fridge. But when he's walking up the stairs of his apartment building, his eyes meet a scene that's out of routine.

"Hello? Can I help you?" Mingyu walks up quickly as he sees you struggle to pull up two suitcases up the stairs, along with the clearly heavy rucksack on your back. "No! Thanks, no, I'm fine." "Please allow me, I live right here on this floor." And Mingyu casually picks up the suitcases, with a smile on his face. He doesn't miss the ways your body relaxes instantly and your eyes light up. "Umm, I'm here on this floor too. Just moved in into 309." "And I'm in 311. Right across your flat!" "I'm so happy to meet a neighbour already. I'm Y/N." "And I'm Mingyu."

And Mingyu feels the exhaustion of the day wear out when he sees your whole smile- not a tight-lipped smile, but the one that shows your teeth and your dimples. Well, dimple. There's only one big dimple on your left cheek, and it's a beautiful smile that stays on Mingyu's mind long through the night after you disappear into your flat and Mingyu goes into his own.

_

Mingyu doesn't know why he's suddenly choosing to skip his daily gym routine in favour of a run through the town at 5.30 am (nearly an hour before he's ever woken up in his entire life). Maybe one day he wakes up at 5.30 to use the washroom but spots you leave the building in your jogging shorts and earplugs. He joins the dots and his body joins them too- safe to say, he couldn't sleep again that morning. And neither the morning after that, because he's determined to join you on your run.

You don't talk much except brief interactions, and your speed is much faster than him, but he doesn't mind the exhaustion. The wink you throw him every time he lags behind and the bottle of water you offer him right after you drink from it too is enough motivation for him to keep running. Of course it helps that you compliment the way his muscles strain through his tank top and Mingyu's chest blows up even further with pride.

And it's so subtle, but Mingyu feels you slowly open up more to him.

It's in the won't you come in for coffee? I make a mean iced coffee.

It's in the I was shopping for groceries and brought you cooking oil, since you were asking for it yesterday. I thought you may not have had the time to go for shopping, since you're so busy at work.

It's in the see this magnet? my baby cousin made it.

And Mingyu goes to you like a moth drawn to a flame. He's drawn to you when he decides to take you out (for a friendly afternoon outing, he calls it officially, but internally he's treating it as a date). He's drawn to you when you show him around the veterinary where you work. He's drawn to you when he sees you eating ice cream on his couch after he's cooked dinner for the two of you. He's drawn to you when you barely touch his arm and tell him that you really like all your neighbours and the entire community in the town is great, but you're especially glad to have found Mingyu because he's one of the only people here who's near your age. And he's drawn to you when you smile for him, that rich, dimpled smile, after he tells you that you're exactly the friend he's been looking for since he's come here.

After that, Mingyu doesn't know what happens in what order. Do you kiss him first? Or does he kiss you first? Do you climb into his lap? Or does he pull you onto him? Do you bite his lip when his hands wander down to your ass that he's been eyeing for weeks now on every morning run? Or does he bite your lip when your hands weave through his hair? It's a blur, and when you pull back for a breath, your lips swollen, the first button of your shirt open, and a hickey already blooming near your collarbone, Mingyu knows only one thing. How he wants. Wants you. Wants more. Wants now-

"Mingyu, I- I don't know how to say this... it's not like I didn't like this. And I- I- umm. Maybe I should leave? Because if I stay I won't be able to hold back and I want to think about this a little bit?"

And oh, your eyes are so wide and so pretty, and the skin of your arms feel like butter under his touch, but he lets you go. He lets you walk away, a shy smile on your lips. He lets you kiss him on his cheek once before disappearing into your own flat, and Mingyu shuts the door and takes deep breaths as he leans on his door.

He's ready to give you all the time in the world to think, but he's sure that he's already yours. He just knows at the end of it, he needs to make you his too.

_

"Hello, darling."

The tone on the other end is unmistakable, and Mingyu sighs. "Don't try to seduce me, love. It's not gonna work." He's said this before, but the message clearly hasn't gotten through. The honey voice drawls on in a painfully slow pace, "You're late tonight. What's up?" "I was busy," he huffs, his heart still beating fast from making out with you a few minutes ago.

"Busy? Unbelievable." "A police officer can't be busy? Is it so unfathomable?" "No. What's unfathomable is that Kim Mingyu is off his routine. I wonder if there's something new... or someone new?"

The voice laughs, and Mingyu knows it's friendly prodding. His relationship with the person on the other side of the line might be anything but friendly but it's yet again become a part of his routine, and at least the friendly banter breaks the monotony.

"Are you jealous that I talk to women apart from you?" Mingyu smirks, knowing two can play this game.

"I'm jealous that she's taking up my time. You have to show her what's her place, really."

"Don't be rude love. You know I've got my ears on your voice only. Now, tell me if you have any news."

"Oh, getting straight to the point, I see..."

"Oh come on!"

The voice becomes serious instantly. Gone is the sexy drawl, and it's replaced by crisp words that are music to Mingyu's ears. "I've heard Taffy's gang making some noise in the borders. You might wanna come and look at it once for yourself."

"Do you have any more information?"

"Nothing much right now, officer. Look, I'm holding up my end of the bargain but you've got to be patient."

Mingyu groans. It's not good news, and it's certainly not enough news. But he'll take a look himself to make sure he understands the graveness of the situation correctly.

"Okay. When should I come? Tell me when Taffy's men are lurking around the area?"

The voice shifts again into a teasing, seductive tone, making Mingyu jerk at the sudden transition.

"Come tomorrow? Race night."

"Yeah no that's not happening. I'll-"

"Tomorrow, babe. Wanna see you race. A big boy like you likes his fast bikes, don't you?"

The thought of racing sends a spike of adrenaline rushing through his veins, but he knows this is illegal. It's one thing allowing the leader of the races to become his informant so that he can keep an eye on the circuit as well as get key pieces of information that remain hidden to the legal eye. But it's an entirely different thing getting into the centre of the mess himself and be involved in it.

And yet, a part of him wants to feel the thrill again. Tonight, after years, he felt that adrenaline rushing through him when you'd tugged at his collar and kissed him repeatedly. Fuck. It had felt good, hadn't it? One night won't matter, will it?

"I'll be there."

"Fantastic. Can't wait to see you, babe."

_

Mingyu doesn't see you the next morning. He waits outside your door at 5.30, but doesn't knock, hoping you'll come out eventually. But you don't. He doesn't spot you through the rest of the day either, and it makes him worry. But he's decided to give you your space and time, so he will be patient... at least for one more day.

It's a Sunday so Mingyu has a half-day at work. When he's back from work, his mind is still all over the place. Should he even go to the race tonight? He's raced a bit back in college days, but everything pretty legal. Nothing like the den of vice he knows he's going to walk into tonight. But he also knows that this is the best way for him to infiltrate through the layers of middlemen that stop information from reaching his ears.

By the time 8.30 comes around, there's no text from you. Instead, there's a text from his informant, saved under the codename of layla (he knows it's not her real name, but he doesn't care enough to ask about it).

I'll see you at the circuit tonight, darling. Don't be late.

Mingyu's heart speeds up. Is it wrong to feel excited right now? As a conscientious police officer, he should definitely not feel excited. But as nothing more than a man, he feels his blood become warm at the thought of meeting the woman behind that voice he's spoken to for almost three months now. He's almost 100% sure the voice isn't generated by a voice modifier or AI, but it's also impossible for that to be someone's real voice, so there must be some pitch changes or something along those lines. Nevertheless, their conversations has often made him wonder about the woman herself.

She's a shadow- no one really knows who she is. But about four months ago, when she'd called him up herself to supply information in order to buy protection for herself and her racing infrastructure, Mingyu had yielded instantly by weighing his priorities. And since then, he's tried endless times to put a face to the voice, but it's been a search in vain.

Not tonight.

Tonight, he's gonna see the face for himself and put all his wandering thoughts to rest. Thoughts late at night after a particularly long phone call with his informant, that made him wonder whether the flirting was real or all for show. Wonder whether the woman herself would be as sexy as the voice. And wonder what kind of woman she must be in order to be capable enough to singlehandedly run an entire illegal racing system.

Fuck it, Mingyu thinks, after seeing the clock strike 8.45 and still no contact from your end. He wears a black tank top along with a black leather jacket- intending to fit right into the crowd he expects to see there. He just hopes there's no one else there who'll recognise him. And he certainly hopes nothing will happen to make him regret this decision for life.

_

You're such a fool, Mingyu, he thinks to himself. You're such a fool for thinking you'd fit in.

Mingyu may be just twenty-seven but he doesn't feel young at all when he sees the crowd at the race. The people here must be of his age, but they all seem so different from him. Perhaps it's because his job has taken away his youth that he'll always feel perpetually distant from even people of his own age.

And so Mingyu stands there awkwardly, stiff amidst a crowd of half-drunk and half-high people, wearing colourful headbands and smearing eclectic neon colours on their skin. He feels out of place- and yet, a part of him wishes he could fit in. He wishes he could have enjoyed his youth like this- on the edge of the other side of the law. He wishes he could have lived like this for even moment of his life- beyond academics, beyond career, beyond mere survival.

"Hi beautiful, looking for someone?" A woman with a cigarette between her fingers strolls up to him. Her hair is flying in the wind, exposing the tattoos all over her skin.

Before Mingyu can say anything, the crowd around him suddenly erupts in loud cheers, and she quickly pulls his hand and drags him towards the centre of the entire crowd. He sees two bikers mount on their bikes- exquisitely reworked to glow in the dark. A woman hops up on a platform in the middle of the two bikers and lifts a gun towards the sky. And as the crowd counts down, she shoots the gun right after 1 and the two bikers zoom out into the blackness ahead, the crowd going wild with cheers for the biker they support.

The scene makes Mingyu's skin feel alive too- the sheer speed of the two bikes, the sound of the engines revving and the general merriness around him induces adrenaline to flow through his veins. When he turns to look at the woman next to him, he sees her looking at him with a curious smile on her face. "Umm, I'm... I'm not really here for the race."

"You're not? Layla told me you would be." The smile on her face deepens, and Mingyu gasps. "You know Layla?" "I do. But that's not important. Let's get you on a bike, hmm?" Mingyu's somehow missed to noticed how her hand's still on his arm, gently stroking his bicep over his jacket. "No, really I don't want to." She steps right up close to him, "But you can try once, pretty boy." Her eyelashes cast long shadows on her cheeks, but Mingyu doesn't care. "I don't want to try." "Let loose for one night." "I'm not here for fun. I'm here for work-" The woman in front of his laughs. "Yes Layla said that too. Don't worry, she's going to work. But only after you race against her."

Mingyu feels his heart speed up. Race against Layla? Fuck. Now, why does that sound so tempting? It makes him only more curious to meet his informant, because why must she make herself so mysterious?

"Are you her friend?" Mingyu knows that this woman is not Layla, because the voice doesn't match by miles. This woman here has a lisp in her voice, unlike Layla's clear diction, and no amount of pitch changing or machine alterations can change that (Mingyu knows that the hard way).

"I'm her sister. Well, kind of. Now, no more questions pretty boy. Next race starts in a few minutes. Let's get you on a bike!" And Mingyu finds himself in no position to protest as the woman drags him away without hearing him anymore.

_

In the blink of an eye, Mingyu finds himself on a beautiful beast of a motorbike, his entire body drunk on adrenaline. There's so many people he's never even met before, but they're hyping him up. The attention-whore in him goes crazy at the cheers. There's coloured smoke being released into the sky, and Mingyu wears his helmet to prevent it from clouding his eyes. And finally when the smoke fades away, he sees his opponent standing along side him.

Layla.

Fuck.

Still no face to the voice in his head, but it's still an enigmatic visual that draws Mingyu in and reels his mind. He watches the way her black latex pants hug her long legs as she swings her legs over her bike. And he watches the way her helmet covers her face but her hair's still flying in the air. There's something still mysterious about her, and yet so oddly familiar.

But before he can say or do anything, the crowd begins the countdown, and in a second, the gunshot goes off. And Mingyu zooms ahead, revving his engine from 0 to 100 in a moment, a smile spreading on his face as the excitement of the speed injects itself in his veins. Out of the corner of his eye, he notices Layla take a spin around the corner of the racetrack, her stable figure undeterred by the sharp turn. Mingyu may not be a professional, but it's not the first time he's racing. He's done this before and he can feel that familiar thrill returning, as he picks up speed and makes up his mind to defeat his worthy opponent.

It's a long and winding course, but to Mingyu it feels like a few minutes only. The cold night air hits his body and makes him feel like he's flying. Soon the ending flag is in sight, and he sees Layla speed up, hunching over her bike, determined to get there first.

But at the last minute, she steps back, her posture loosening as she sits back and watches Mingyu whizz off ahead of her.

Fuck, he mutters under his breath. Knowing she let him win easily hurts his ego, and he slows the bike down as they drive into the nothingness of the deserted roads ahead. When he finally comes to a stop, he gets off the bike and sees her stand a few metres away from him, her helmet still on her head stretching her legs.

"Hey! Layla! You let me win! I would've won anyway- fair and sq-"

Layla spins around and takes off her helmet, her hair whipping across her face, and Mingyu finally sees the face behind the voice.

_

"Y/N?" Mingyu's eyes are wide, his brain running as fast as his bike was a short while back, as he tries to connect the dots.

The voice is unmistakable, now slightly higher in pitch, and Mingyu wants to kick himself as he realises how big a fool he's been. "We finally meet, Kim Mingyu." There's a beautiful smile on your face, one he's not seen before. There are other things too- there's a nose pin on your button nose, making your features look sharper, and a necklace hanging off your neck, which is odd since he's never seen you wear jewellery before.

"Y/N? H- wh- how?!"

You don't answer him. You simply walk towards him, your hips swaying and Mingyu groans at the sight of your pretty legs in those tight pants. Fuck him for not recognising that ass sooner in spite of being obsessed with it for weeks.

"I thought I should come clean to you, officer, before you make any choices." You casually slot yourself between his legs, as Mingyu leans back against his motorbike. "What do you think?"

What does he think?

He thinks he's a fool for not finding out more about you before falling for you. He thinks he's a fool for maintaining a contact with someone as dangerous as La- you. And he thinks he's a fool for finding you even sexier after discovering this persona of yours.

And he thinks he would be a fool with regrets for all his life if he lets go of you now.

So Mingyu grabs onto your hips, and pulls you closer.

"You've got me by my balls, baby. Got me eating out of your hand. And you know I happen to like it. So it doesn't matter what I think, love. What matters is what you think." His fingers rub against the skin exposed as your crop top rises up as you dangle your hands around his shoulders. You laugh at his words, pressing even closer to him, the air between you two turning to electricity. "It doesn't matter what I think either- because I'd fallen for you ages ago when I first saw you around in town. The new, dashing police officer, Kim Mingyu, enquiring about gangsters and fending himself off prying old ladies at the same time. Since then I've just wanted to make you mine." Mingyu's heart hasn't stopped thumping loudly all night, and at your confession, his body tingles with a dangerous feeling.

"Glad we're on the same page, baby."

_

"This is my office," you whisper to him in between kisses as you drag him to a shady-looking room at the back of the building that's on the edge of the racing circuit, now deserted because everyone's busy at the races. "Office?" Mingyu giggles, because the term is ridiculous. The place is anything but an office- with the way dishevelled boxes are just stacked everywhere, and instead of desks there are more pool tables and boxes of alcohol. It's a small, dingy place, and the single tubelight at the end of the corridor flickers every other minute, but it's a vibe. Mingyu's not unfamiliar with seedy places in his line of work, but it's so novel to think this is where you truly work.

But fuck him if he doesn't think it just makes you hotter. Because there's something about you being the boss of a pack of hundred delinquents associated with even more hardened criminals that makes his dick chub up real quick.

Like it is right now, when your hands make quick work of removing his jacket and throwing it on the floor as you touch his bare muscle. Mingyu carelessly runs a hand through his hair as he sees you push him onto a chair on a desk that's in your office, the room lit only by the mercy of the distant tubelight and the moonlight streaming in through the window panes. "Fuck, you're so big Mingyu. Let me blow you? Please? Wanted to do this for so long." Your eyes are so pretty as you bend in front of him, fingers lazily rubbing into the tent in his pants, making him hiss. "Go on, baby. Whatever you like. Fuck, but kiss me once more."

And you do. You taste like berries, and Mingyu loves it. Mingyu knows he's got it bad, but he doesn't care. You're on your knees and you want to blow him, and if this isn't the mental image to which he's jerked off for days now, he'd be damned. So he pushes you down in between his knees after kissing you to his heart's content, and you quickly take off his pants. "God," you almost drool and Mingyu whimpers when you take off his boxers too. "You're so fucking big, Gyu. Never seen such a big, pretty cock," you say reverently, as you pump it and it twitches in your hands. Your eyes go wide when you lick it and fit your mouth barely against the tip, and Mingyu throws his head back and moans. He's not going to last long, if just this much has got him feeling like this.

Thankfully, you don't tease him much, eager to feel the heavy weight on your tongue too. So you take him as much as your throat allows, and Mingyu feels himself on the brink of heaven. When you bob your head a couple of times, Mingyu reaches down to tug your hair back and you moan around his cock. The vibrations send him over, and he cums into your mouth even as you continue to suck him. When you finally pull off with a pop, another squirt from his dick leaves a string of white cum on your lips and Mingyu feels himself getting hard again.

"That was so hot baby. You're so hot," he says, as he picks you up from the floor and on the desk. It's so easy for him to manhandle you like that, and you pull him close quickly. "You're hotter, Gyu. Can't tell you what fantasies I've had about you in these last few months." Mingyu smirks, his hands removing your beautiful pants, and spreading your thighs apart as he feels his way through your folds. "Umm? Really? Now don't be a bad girl, and tell me what you've thought about me."

You open your mouth to say something but then Mingyu pinches your clit, and any words fall away as you moan out loudly. Your hands steady themselves on his biceps as Mingyu begins to finger you painfully slowly- to the extent that he can hear the squelching sounds, and it drives him crazy.

"Tell me, Y/N."

When your breathing slows down as you feel Mingyu driving two fingers into you at a steady pace, his eyes fixed on yours, biting his lip in concentration, you tell him softly.

"Before I shifted into the flat... I wondered what you'd be like from up close. Because I'd only seen you from afar. And after hearing your v- aaah- voice, it just got worse." You feel Mingyu stretching you, hitting your g-spot repeatedly as he kissed your neck.

"And then when I did shift in... fuck. It was so hard to not give in to you. Whenever you looked at me with your puppy eyes and y- y- your smile- ah, fuck I'm g- gonna cum, Mingyu!" You scream as he fingers you through your orgasm, and he licks his fingers clean once you come down from your high.

"Then who asked you to not give in to me?"

"I wanted to make sure you'd like me in real life and not judge me simply as an informant." Your simple, vulnerable words take his breath away, and Mingyu pulls off your top in one go. "Fuck, you're so cute baby. I'd like you in every form, in every life. You drive me crazy, do you know that?" And Mingyu knows that now, as you hold on to his shoulders as he enters you in one go. "God, you're so tight, Y/N. Tighter than your pretty mouth, fuck." He's trying so hard not to cum right now, but as you grip his hair and moan filthily, a stream of curses falling off your pretty lips, Mingyu lets his adrenaline take over. And he thrusts into you without any hesitance, hips moving fast, his balls heavy as he slams against you again and again. The desk creaks, and you pant in his ears, begging him to go harder, and Mingyu can feel the way your pussy clenches him at every thrust.

"Gonna cum, Gyu. Please-" Your nails dig into his nape, and it drives him over the edge. When you come along with him, there's a sharp buzz spreading through his body and he feels like he's gone to heaven.

He holds you close like that for the next few minutes, unable and uninterested in letting you go. When you both finally feel the high subside, you look up at him, a hazy smile on your face. "I really like you, Gyu. I hope you can like me too beyond who I am in this racing circuit. Trust me, it's.... it's not my entire life. I am a person bey-"

He kisses you quiet. "Stop explaining yourself." You try to protest, but he kisses you again. "You know Y/N, I think I liked you from the first day I met you. And I get what you're saying but... trust me. Fuck. I don't know how to say this. But safe to say if I thought you were amazing as Y/N? I think you're absolutely the epitome of perfection as Y/N plus Layla. So hot, so gorgeous, and I love every bit of you."

And then there's that single-dimpled smile again.

"I also like the nose pin. Why'd you take it off?"

You giggle, "Didn't want it to be a deal-breaker once I had my mind set on you."

Mingyu kisses your nose at the pin itself and you shiver in his arms.

"Nothing about you can be a deal-breaker, baby."

[cthulhu-calling]

Camisado 1

Dark!Steve Rogers x female!Reader

Summary : You always thought you’d marry someone closer to your age, but you couldn’t complain. Although Steve was nearly seven years older than you, you couldn’t have asked for a better partner. He was kind, sweet and had always looked out for you ever since you moved into the neighbourhood at fifteen years of age. At first, you assumed it was an elder brother-ly thing. Beating up the boys at school who were bothering you, those who asked you to accompany them to the movies even after you said no. But on your nineteenth birthday, when he kissed you in the kitchen while your party continued on in the backyard, everything changed. You’d been going out since then and he’d made it clear to you as well as your parents that he planned on making an honest woman out of you.  You and Steve had the perfect life, you couldn't ask for anything more. But that doesn't mean he couldn't.

Warnings : 1950's AU, smut, misogyny, factual inaccuracies, lots of talk of pregnancy (seriously, this is a major content warning)

Author’s Note : Reader has no specified race or body type. It has all the period typical sexism but considering that when I imagine readers, they're always woc, there will be no period typical racism. Not beta'd so all mistakes are my own. I tried to do as much research on life in 1950's America so please be kind and let me know what you think!

Word Count : 5k

masterlist

You fell back on the couch, deciding on taking a small break after having spent the whole morning dusting and vacuuming the house. You still had to do the dishes and hang the clothes out to dry. Your mama always said, a man’s home is a reflection of the woman he’s with, and so you made sure to keep the house in near perfect condition. You looked up at the clock, a wedding gift from Steve’s ma. You adored Sarah Rogers, she was almost like a second mother to you. It was already past noon and you really needed to get a move on. You had less than an hour to take a quick shower and then make a quick lunch for you and Steve to take to the garage. 

Finishing your shower in record time, you quickly add chicken soup, flour, pepper and cayenne into the slow cooker followed by stirring in the chicken and veggies. You knew Steve always enjoyed your slow cooked chicken a la king. You could leave it on and it would be ready just in time for dinner. Packing a quick ham and cheese sandwich for the both of you, you placed it in your bag before checking your appearance one last time in the mirror. You had on a sleeveless white blouse with a blue, floral-a-line circle skirt and black kitten heels along with a classic red lip. Steve always preferred you in skirts and dresses as opposed to pants or trousers. 

With ten minutes before the clock struck one, you quickly made your way out of the house and began the short walk to the garage where Steve worked. You always brought Steve his lunch and spent the half hour of his lunch break with him and today was no exception. You’d been married for just over a year now and the two of you had decided that you’d wait for a while before starting a family, wanting to just enjoy each other’s company for a while before you added children to the mix. But it was established that you both wanted kids. While two would be more than enough for you, Steve wanted three, at the very least. 

You always thought you’d marry someone closer to your age, but you couldn’t complain. Although Steve was nearly seven years older than you, you couldn’t have asked for a better partner. He was kind, sweet and had always looked out for you ever since you moved into the neighbourhood at fifteen years of age. At first, you assumed it was an elder brother-ly thing. Beating up the boys at school who were bothering you, those who asked you to accompany them to the movies even after you said no. But on your nineteenth birthday, when he kissed you in the kitchen while your party continued on in the backyard, everything changed. You’d been going out since then and he’d made it clear to you as well as your parents that he planned on making an honest woman out of you. 

And exactly three years later, on your twenty-second birthday, he asked you to marry him. And you said yes, of course. The two of you got married two months after that day, in an intimate ceremony with only the closest of friends and family. Steve worked as a mechanic at Mr. Stark’s garage, making more than enough for the two of you. After the monthly expenses, the mortgage on the house and your savings were covered, you had just enough left every month to go out for a fancy dinner and to the movies once. 

As you reached the garage, you spotted Steve bent over the open bonnet of a car, tinkering around. Taking this opportunity to startle him, you walk up behind him as slowly and noiselessly as possible before placing a hand on his shoulder, calling out his name, causing him to startle and hit his head on the bonnet. He curses loudly before turning around, the anger evident in his eyes which burns out a little when he sees you. “You should know better than to do something like that doll,” he whispers in your ear, pulling you close by your waist before pressing a chaste kiss to your lips. You feel the heat rising to your face as you look towards your feet, licking your lips as you mumble out an apology. 

“Why don’t you take a seat doll, I’ll be done here in five,” he says before continuing to work on the engine. You nod as you take a seat a little distance away, pulling out the book you got from the library last week, smoothing out the dog-eared edge before diving back into the book. Just as you were about to finish the chapter you’d been reading, Bucky walks out of Mr. Stark’s office, snatching the book right out of your hands. “Hey!” you huff out a protest, reaching out for the book that he proceeded to hold above his head. Laughing heartily at your antics, Steve comes up behind Bucky to snatch the book and hands it back to you before sitting down and pulling you onto his lap, wrapping his arm around your waist possessively. 

Rolling his eyes at that, Bucky continues “Nat needs y’all to come over for dinner tomorrow night,” he says as he opens his lunch, digging into the food. Bucky and Natasha were Steve’s friends and had become yours too when you started dating him. The two had been married for five years now. Natasha was probably the most badass woman you’d ever met and while you hoped your mama never caught you saying that, it was true. She was headstrong and never took any crap from anyone. She was a nurse and while you admired her, you were a bit envious of the fact that she was a working woman. Steve didn’t allow you to work. He believed that it was his job to earn money to support you and while you would have still loved to work, you understood that things couldn’t always go your way. 

“What for? We’re going to my ma’s tomorrow night,” he questioned as you handed him his sandwich, before grabbing your own. 

“Go to Sarah’s some other day. Nat’s going to prepare a feast and she needs you there. Sam and Wanda and Clint and the family are coming too. Come with your appetites prepared,” he said, finishing off the last of his lunch before dusting his hands off and getting back to work, “No excuses, be there by seven. And for god’s sake Rogers, look presentable.” 

“Beat it, punk,” Steve yelled as Bucky moved away with a wave of his middle finger. You looked at Steve, giggling, before promising, “I’ll drop by and make her some soup for tonight. I’ll spend the night too if need be. Don’t worry, we’ll go to Nat’s tomorrow,” you kissed his cheek before removing yourself from his lap, packing up your bag. “I should get going, let you get back to work. I have lots to do at home,” you wave a goodbye, Steve watching your hips sway. 

Steve knew you were the perfect dame for him. He loved you more than anyone he’d ever loved before. He knew you’d be the perfect wife and mother to his children. He wanted you just to himself for a little time before the two of you started a family because he knew once he got you pregnant, he planned on keeping you round and full of himself for as long as possible. Just the thought of you barefoot and pregnant under his roof, cooking for him and his children, your breasts swollen and heavy with milk for his child. Just the thought of you pregnant and oh, so sensitive because of him, it all turned him on more than you could ever imagine. 

He vowed to start trying to get you pregnant soon. 

*

By the time you got done with all your chores around the house, you were exhausted. Dinner was done about halfway and the chicken noodle soup for Sarah was done and packed for you to take to her. She wasn’t feeling too well the past few days so you and Steve were going to visit her tomorrow with dinner, just to check up on her. But now, you’d already called and told her about your plans for tomorrow evening and that you’d swing by today before dinner. She was rather accommodating, claiming that the two of you needed to spend time with people your age. And she sounded much better as well. Her cold seemed to have improved and she sounded more energetic. 

At half past five, you decided to get to Sarah's house. She lived close enough, just a couple of houses down the street. When you and Steve got married, you decided to get a house close enough to both his ma and your parents as well. Which reminded you that you needed to visit your mama soon as well. You had borrowed her Vogue knitting books, and it was high time you gave them back. You quickly make the ten minute walk to her house and let yourself in using your set of keys to enter the house, not wanting Sarah to move around too much but to your surprise, you find her in the kitchen, humming a tune you couldn’t quite recognise, cooking what smelled like her famous lasagna causing your mouth to water instantly, the response Pavlovian at this point. 

“You’re supposed to be in bed ma, not prancing around the kitchen doing only the Lord knows what,” you say as she turns around, giving you a wide smile. 

“Don’t you dare sass me kid. Is that really how you greet your poor old mother in law?” she asked as she walked out of the kitchen, pulling you into a tight hug. Giving you a final squeeze, she grabbed your hands in her frail ones, leading you towards the living room. 

Stopping her halfway, you let go of her hand before holding up the thermos full of warm soup that you had brought. 

“I’m going to put this away for now. Heat it up before you eat it, okay?” you instructed as you moved towards the kitchen, putting the soup to the side before moving your hair out of your face and tying on an apron. 

“And what exactly do you think you’re doing missy?” she said as she followed you into the kitchen, thin arms crossed across her chest.

“Doing your dishes, what else?” 

“Is anything I say going to make you stop?” she wondered out loud. 

“Fat chance,” you said as you rolled your eyes. 

“Well, you better hang around until the lasagna is done, I’ll pack some for Steve. Speaking of which, where is that boy?,” she said.

“Still at the shop I believe,” you answered, almost done with the few dishes. 

“I see,” she says, an odd look passing over her face but she doesn’t say anything further so you continue to work in a comfortable silence. 

Wiping your hands when you were done, you removed your apron and put it back in its place. “Alright ma, I should get going. Steve must be back by now,” you said as you took your bag, a large oven dish of lasagna in your hands, moving towards the door, only to be stopped by her. 

“Tell me my dear, have y’all thought about babies yet?” 

Furrowing your eyebrows, you look at her with a confused look. “We’ve decided to wait. And we’ve only been married a year now,” you answer. 

Laughing lightly, she squeezes your hand in hers before letting go. “Alright. You tell that boy to come see me soon, okay?” You nod and wave goodbye as you start walking home. Checking the time on your watch, you’re horrified to find it’s already quarter to seven and increasing your pace, almost running to get back home before Steve. You reach home with just five minutes before the clock strikes seven, having just enough time to freshen up and fix your hair before the doorbell rings. 

At the sight of you, a smile quickly overtakes his face which you can’t help but reciprocate. As soon as he walks in he has his arms around you, pulling you into a passionate kiss. You quickly push him away with a giggle, “At least wash your hands first!” 

“I can’t help myself when it comes to you,” he says, squeezing your ass which causes you to squeak. Laughing, he hangs his cap and goes to freshen up as you get to setting dinner out. 

At the table, you tell Steve of his mom’s request and he agrees, saying he’ll go see her on Sunday. 

“Any clue what this impromptu get-together at Bucky and Nat’s is about ?” 

“I tried but couldn’t get anything outta him. Guess we’ll only know tomorrow,” he shrugged. 

“I should call and ask if she needs any help,” you said after dinner once you were done with clearing the table and putting the leftovers in the fridge. Steve was in the living room with a book and a beer. You couldn’t afford a television just yet but Steve had been saving up and according to him, you’d be able to get one in a month or two. 

He hummed absentmindedly, which meant he wasn’t really paying attention. Sighing, you quickly rang Nat up. It was Bucky who answered the phone. 

“Hey, is Nat there?” you asked. 

“Sure, I’ll just put her on,” he said and you could hear him calling out to Natasha in the background. 

“Hello dear, to what do I owe this pleasure?” she laughed. 

Giggling, you reply “Just wanted to check if you needed any help for tomorrow. It was rather impromptu and I heard that everyone is coming,” to which she only huffed and said “I just require you and Steve to show up, that’s all. Now I got loads to do honey, I’ll see you tomorrow!” she said as she swiftly hung up leaving you a little stunned. 

“That was weird,” you think out loud as you sit down next to Steve on the couch, his arm immediately draping itself around your shoulder and pulling you into his body. You snuggle closer, a content sigh slipping from your lips. 

“Don’t think so much, it’s probably nothing,” he soothes, his fingers playing with the collar of your blouse. Oh, so he was listening. 

“But-“ you start, immediately silenced by Steve shushing you. “Enough about this. We’ll go there tomorrow and find out,” he chastises, his tone leaving no room for argument. 

Deciding to just let it go for now, you untangle yourself from Steve who lets you go albeit a bit reluctantly and get ready for bed. It takes you some time to fall asleep but with Steve’s arm around your waist, holding you close, you manage to get a few hours of rest. 

*

You fixed your pretty yellow sundress and checked your hair and makeup one last time in the mirror. Modest but tempting. Perfect. Just as you were about to call out to Steve, he emerged from the bath, freshly shaved. Still not dressed, you tilt your head towards the cupboard, urging him to get dressed quickly. 

Rolling his eyes playfully, selecting a simple khaki and the baby blue shirt you’d left out for him. Steve combed his hair back, following you out of your bedroom, watching you pack up his ma’s lasagna. You knew it was Bucky’s favourite, it was almost everybody’s favourite, having not let him eat any of it last night. 

You knew Nat hadn’t asked you to bring anything with you but your mama would never let you leave home for a party without a little something for the hosts. So here you were, outside Nat and Bucky’s door, a tray of lasagna in your hands and Steve’s arms around your waist. Bucky opened the door with a wide smile, a bottle of beer in his hand. 

“Come on in, kids!” He almost yelled, definitely a little tipsy. Smiling at him, you stepped inside and Steve closed the door behind the two of you. 

Sam and Wanda sat on the couch, each nursing their own bottle of beer and a glass of wine respectively. She smiled and waved at you, patting the couch on her side, inviting you to take a seat. Holding up the lasagna, you tilted your head, motioning towards the kitchen. 

Natasha and Wanda both drank occasionally. You didn’t though. Steve didn’t like you drinking, not even a beer on the occasion. It was all your fault really. 

It was your best friend from school Ella’s twentieth birthday. Just you and a couple of other people from your class decided to surprise her with a little get together near the lake by the old lighthouse. You knew there would be alcohol but as long as you didn’t drink too much and were aware of your surroundings, things would be fine right? 

Wrong. Steve had been by your parents house, looking for you and being told exactly where and with who you were, he couldn’t control his rage. He didn’t approve of ‘Ella and her posse of bimbos’, as he put it. You knew that and while you didn’t agree with him, it was the reason you couldn’t tell him about your whereabouts that night. 

When he finally found you, you were sitting on a little picnic blanket, half drunk bottle of beer in your hands, chatting away with Ella and her boyfriend. You were a little tipsy but immediately sobered up at the sight of Steve storming towards you. 

You quickly got up, dropping the bottle as it rolled off somewhere, the sound of your heart beating and the blood rushing through your veins deafening. Ella tried to intercept him, trying to get him to stop and talk but he just ignored her and continued to walk towards you, grabbing hold of your upper arm. You yelped loudly at how tight his grip was, trying to get him to let go of you as he dragged you away from the lake and towards his motorcycle. 

At a distance from the lake, he finally let go of your arm, pinching the bridge of his nose, eyes shut. 

“Ste-,”

“Shut up. I don’t want a word out of you,” he spat. 

You quickly shut your mouth, taking a step back from him. 

“How many times, huh? How many fucking times have I told you to stay away from that girl? And yet, here you are, dressed like a slut, drinking away with that stupid whore and her friends,” he says viciously, taking a step forward for each one you took back until you were backed up against a tree. 

You were terrified. You’d never seen him this angry before, at least not at you. 

“You are never to see that girl again, do you understand?” he barks, causing you to nod your head so hard, you thought your neck might snap. 

“Good. Let’s get you home. Put this on,” he says as he holds up his jacket for you which you promptly slip on, following him to his motorcycle. You don’t even realise when you start crying, the tears streaming down your face making the skin burn against the harsh wind. 

When you finally reached home, you got off wordlessly, shrugging off his jacket which was hanging from your smaller frame and handing it to him. You turned to walk back towards the front door only to be stopped by him grabbing your wrist and pulling you toward him. 

At the sight of the wet trails streaking your face, a flash of guilt passes in his eyes but it’s gone just as quickly as it arrived. 

“You know I’m saying this because I care about you, okay? I don’t want anything bad happening to you, you know that right?” 

You can only nod numbly, as he gives you a small smile and a peck on the lips before gesturing for you to go back in, watching you till you’ve gone inside and locked the front door. 

Of course, you wouldn’t talk to him for days after that. Ignoring his phone calls or having your mama pick up the phone, telling him you weren’t home when he came knocking. 

You made him grovel and plead, letting him know just how angry you were but in the end, you gave in. You loved him, with his flaws and all. 

Pulling yourself out of your little daydream, you walked towards the kitchen where you could hear Natasha moving about. As you walked, you admired the picture frames that adorned the walls. You loved Nat and Bucky’s house, so happy and full of memories. You couldn’t wait to have that with Steve. 

“Now, didn’t I tell you not to get anything? I’m cooking up a storm here, who’s gonna eat all of this?” She questioned, her hands on her hips, over mitts on her hands and a frilly apron on. 

You laughed and moved closer to give her a quick peck on her cheek, putting the lasagna on the counter. 

“It’s Sarah’s lasagna. You don’t have to worry about it going to waste,” you tried. 

“Oh, I know. But you know my cooking can’t compare to hers!” She complained mockingly. Sharing a laugh, you start helping about, feeling odd just standing there doing nothing. She lets you help but refuses to tell you why she wanted everyone to come over when you tried to  ask. 

You had to give it to her though, she really had outdone herself. As you helped her take the food to the table, you were in awe. Tuna noodle casserole, beef stroganoff and mashed potatoes completed with the perfect buttermilk pie. The sight alone made your mouth water and tummy grumble. 

At the delicious scent wafting from the dining table, everyone slowly poured in, each of them grabbing a plate and loading it up. You couldn’t wait to dig in, everything looked mouthwatering. Jokes were made and compliments given, you made to take a bite but were immediately stopped by the conversation taking place across from where you and Steve sat. 

Bucky was urging Natasha to take a bigger helping of the mashed potatoes. While that was not particularly surprising, the next bit caused everyone to stop and stare. 

“You really should take some more,” he says, adding another heap of the potatoes to her plate, “you’re eating for two now.” 

You’d never heard silence quite this loud, everyone stopped midway, staring at Natasha and Bucky. Not Clint’s children of course, they couldn’t be bothered by much. They were busy stuffing their little faces with the feast Nat had prepared. 

After a minute or two of utter silence, a cheer broke out and Natasha and Bucky sighed, exchanging small smiles of relief. 

You, along with Laura and Wanda got up almost simultaneously, rushing around to envelop Natasha in a giant bear hug, who had started crying at this point. The boys were all congratulating Bucky, patting him on the back and making lewd jokes. The children seemed clueless as to what the fuss was all about but declared their merriment by making various noises as well. 

When everyone has settled down, continuing with their meals, the relative silence is broken by Wanda, “We get to be godparents, right?” She questions, motioning between herself and Sam. That’s when Steve pipes up, “You guys are already godparents to Cooper. I think it’s our turn.” 

“Exactly! What do you say Natty?” You wiggle your eyebrows playfully at her. 

Huffing a laugh, she adds “We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it. Can we just enjoy this lovely meal I worked so hard to make?” 

This shuts everyone up, again passing praises and compliments her way. Once the meal came to a close, it was already well past the kids' bedtime so Clint and Laura took off, followed by Sam and a rather tipsy Wanda. You stayed back to help Natasha clean up, despite her protests. 

“You’re a pregnant woman and I’m already mad enough you did all of this by yourself. You should be ashamed of yourself Barnes, letting your pregnant wife do all the work,” you chastised. 

“Sorry ma’am,” he says, holding his hands up in mock surrender. Steve chuckles but otherwise stays quiet. 

When you’re done with most of the dishes and having packed up the few leftovers, you and Steve take your leave, walking back hand in hand in the silent darkness. 

Your Steve, you know him well. And you can tell, just by one look in his face that there’s a lot on his mind. You know better from experience that when he’s in such moods, it’s best to leave him alone. He’ll tell you what’s on his mind before bed, you know it for sure. 

So for now, you just walk home, swinging your joined hands back and forth as he’s lost in his own head. 

Done getting ready for bed, you slip under the covers, waiting for Steve to join you. You don’t have to wait long, just as you pick up your book for some reading before bed, he slips under the covers, snatching the book from your hand. Your protest is short lived as he pulls you close into a bruising kiss. 

His lips travel down your throat, trailing wet kisses down to your collarbone before you stop him as he moves to pull your silk slip over your head. 

“What’s on your mind? You’ve been quiet all evening,” you grab his cheek in your hand, making him look at you. 

He sighs loudly, moving away to sit back against the headboard. 

“C’mon Steve, tell me.” 

You move closer to him, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. Just as you’re about to urge him to say something he interrupts you. 

“Let’s have a baby.” 

You’re quiet for a while and he takes your silence as a request to continue. 

“It’s been on my mind for so long. We’ll start with one. For now. I can’t wait for our home to be filled with little ones. I just —I’ve been thinking of this for so long. The fact that Nat and Bucky are expecting just solidified my decision. Don’t you want a baby?” 

Swallowing, you plan out your words carefully before opening your mouth. 

“We’re not ready Stevie. You know this. We’ve been married what, a year now? I thought we decided to wait,” you try. 

“But I don’t want to wait anymore! Can’t you see? There’s no time like now to start trying,” he raises his voice and you flinch away from him. 

“I don’t know Stevie. I’m really tired, we’ll talk about this tomorrow, okay?” 

“No!” He shouts, “I want to talk about this now. We’re ready. I know we’re ready,” he reaffirms, grabbing you by your arms to hold you close. 

“Steve, we’re not. We’re nowhere ready for a baby. We’ve just begun saving, can we even support a child right now?” You try to make him see some sense but it backfires tremendously. 

“Really? I work so hard for you, for us, but that’s not enough for you, is it? You’re such an ungrateful little bitch, aren’t you?” His tone and his hurtful words immediately cause your eyes to fill, a couple errant tears slipping down. His grip on you is painful, almost bruising.

At the sight of your eyes brimming, tears streaking their way down your pretty face, his anger dissipates and his face fills with worry. He moves forward to cup your face in his hands, but you flinch away from him, pulling the covers back and stepping out of bed with your pillow in hand. 

“I-uh- I’ll take the couch,” you stutter out, sniffling between every word. 

“No, no, no. Baby I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean it. I’m so sorry, please come back to bed,” he says, scrambling out of bed as you continue towards the door. 

“No, please baby. I’m sorry, please come back to bed,” he pleads, getting on his knees in front of you, wrapping his strong arms around your waist and holding you in place, his chin resting on your soft stomach. 

He looks up at you with eyes quickly filling with tears, threatening to overflow. Your heart melts at the sight and you close your eyes, nodding your head slowly and he sighs, burying his face into your stomach, his tears causing your slip to dampen slightly. 

“I’m so sorry baby, I didn’t mean it. I’m so sorry,” his voice comes out muffled but you understand him anyway. 

You nod your head, telling him you’ll think about kids. You really would. That night he held you close after making love to you, almost as if he was afraid you’d slip out into the darkness in the middle of the night. He whispered the deepest of apologies and praises into your ear as he drew orgasm after orgasm from your prone body. 

You knew he regrets what he said. You were well aware that he wanted a big family. Growing up, it had always been just him and his Ma. His father was hardly ever home and when he was, he was too drunk to care about much. He aspired to be everything that his father wasn’t, a real family man. 

And you know you want to give him that but you need some time, you haven’t even been married that long. And you will think about it much more seriously now. What’s wrong with having a child? He works so hard for you, to make sure you’re not left needing anything, can’t you do at least this much for him? You’re home all day anyway, it’s not like you have a job like Nat. Plus, you’re lucky to have him and that he cares about you and what you want. Most men wouldn’t have bothered asking their wives if and when they wanted children. You find your resolve weakening. You will tell him that you’re ready to start trying and it’s unlikely you will fall pregnant on the first try. You have some time, you tell yourself all the while trying to smother that voice inside you that whispers, ‘You should wait’. 

[amethystarachnid]

Hi! I absolutely love your work sooo much (especially “LAZY DAY” with Tony) 🥹💕 If it’s okay, could you write a fluff story of Tony and shy fem reader?

This is just an example... She tends to hold back from telling Tony how she really feels, even when she needs him, because she doesn't want to be a bother (even though he’d love to be there for her). One day, she came home feeling down after a long, exhausting day at work without saying a word. But Tony, always so tuned in to her, noticed right away and cheered her up with sweet words, lots of praise, and warm hugs ❤️

Sorry if this is a weird request, and I’m just a beginner in English! Thank you so much for your amazing work 🥰

SAFE ARMS

⤷ ANTHONY “TONY” E. STARK

ᯓ★ Pairing: Anthony “Tony” E. Stark x fem!reader

ᯓ★ Genre: romance fluff, tiny bit of angst but more comfort

ᯓ★ Request from: normal request

ᯓ★ Story type: one shot

ᯓ★ Word count: 5k

ᯓ★ Summary: you aren't used to ask for help, always scared to be a bother for the people around you, but your boyfriend, Tony Stark himself, is ready to change that.

ᯓ★ TW(s): reader is insecure but nothing that need a tw

ᯓ★ Comment if you want to be added to the taglist (specify if you want the everything taglist or for a specific character)

ᯓ★ My Masterlist

ᯓ★ MARVEL Multiverse - choose an AU, pair it with your favorite character and make a request!

ᯓ★ Songs & Superheroes tales - The Game (to make a request, follow the rules on the link!)

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo

ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language

The sun is just beginning to peek through the blinds when you wake up, casting soft, golden beams across Tony’s penthouse. Everything here is sleek, modern, and feels like it belongs in a world you’re still getting used to. Sometimes, it’s hard to believe that this is your home now, not just some temporary stay in Tony Stark’s glamorous life.

You turn in bed, expecting to find him beside you. But the sheets are cold, and you know what that means: he’s already up, probably buried in his lab, tinkering with some new piece of tech or fussing over another upgrade to one of his suits. The thought brings a small smile to your face, but it also settles a familiar ache in your chest.

Living with Tony is both exciting and intimidating. He’s never made you feel anything less than wanted here, even if his world feels overwhelming. Even though he’s Tony Stark—a genius, a billionaire, Iron Man—he’s somehow managed to make you feel like you belong in his universe. And yet, there’s a shyness that sticks to you, holding you back from fully opening up. It's not that you don’t trust him; it’s just… well, you’re afraid of being too much, of being a burden, of pulling him away from things that feel so much bigger than you.

You tell yourself that this is the reason you don’t go looking for him right now. After all, he’s probably working on something important; he wouldn’t want to be interrupted. Right?

With a small sigh, you roll out of bed, pulling one of his oversized hoodies around your shoulders. The familiar smell of him, a mix of his cologne and the faint metallic tang of his workshop, wraps around you like a comforting hug. It helps, a little.

Your bare feet make almost no sound as you pad through the penthouse, moving toward the kitchen. A small army of coffee machines stands proudly on the countertop—Tony has never been subtle about his obsession with caffeine. You pick the espresso machine, going through the motions of making yourself a cup and trying not to think about how empty the kitchen feels without him here.

You sip your coffee in silence, leaning against the counter, your thoughts drifting back to last night. Tony had been working late, as usual, and by the time he came to bed, you’d already been half asleep. You hadn’t even really said goodnight. It’s a small thing, but it gnaws at you now, the missed chance to tell him how much he means to you.

As you finish your coffee, you hear a faint hum from downstairs—the familiar, low buzz of Tony’s lab. You can almost picture him there, leaning over one of his projects, brow furrowed in concentration, the soft glow of his tech casting a blue light over his face.

Before you realize what you’re doing, you’re halfway to the lab, hugging his hoodie close. You stop just before the entrance, heart pounding in your chest. You don’t want to bother him. What if he’s in the middle of something crucial?

You turn, ready to head back upstairs, but then you hear his voice.

“You know, you can come in, right?” His tone is light, teasing. You don’t even have to see his face to know he’s smirking.

You feel your cheeks heat up. Caught. But the way he says it makes you feel a little bolder, like maybe it’s okay to want his company.

Stepping into the lab, you find him exactly as you imagined, bent over a small arc reactor, wires and tools scattered around him. He glances up as you walk in, and his smirk softens into a warm smile.

“Morning, sleepyhead,” he says, setting his tools down and straightening up. “Come to help me save the world?”

You chuckle, hugging yourself a little tighter. “I wouldn’t know where to start.”

“Lucky for you, I do,” he teases, stepping closer. He reaches out, a gentle hand tilting your chin up so he can look at you fully. “But, honestly, I’d much rather spend my morning with you.”

His eyes are soft, a little tired, but the way he looks at you never fails to make your heart race. Even after all this time together, it’s hard to believe someone like him could look at you like that, like you’re the most important person in the world.

“Don’t you have… things to do?” You gesture toward the scattered tools, trying to ignore the way your stomach flips at his touch.

“Plenty,” he says, shrugging as if it’s the least important thing. “But I can make time. For you? Always.”

You swallow, the weight of his words settling over you like a warm blanket. He says things like that all the time, so casually, but you know he means them. And yet, you can’t quite shake the nagging feeling that you don’t deserve it, that you’re just a distraction from the incredible work he does every day.

Tony watches you, his expression softening even more as he picks up on your hesitation. He’s always been able to read you so easily, seeing right through the walls you try to keep up.

“Hey,” he murmurs, his hand moving to cup your cheek, thumb brushing softly along your skin. “What’s going on in that pretty head of yours?”

You want to tell him, to explain all the things you keep buried—the doubts, the fears, the overwhelming feeling that you’re somehow out of place here, with him. But the words stick in your throat, too heavy to push out.

“It’s nothing,” you say instead, forcing a smile. “I just… didn’t want to bother you.”

His brow furrows, and he studies you in that intense way he has, like he’s trying to decipher a complicated equation. “Bother me?” he repeats, a hint of disbelief coloring his voice. “You could never bother me, sweetheart. You know that, right?”

“I just… you’re always so busy,” you say, your voice quieter than you’d like. “And I know what you do is important. I don’t want to distract you.”

He sighs, his hand dropping from your cheek to take your hand instead, his fingers wrapping around yours warmly. “You’re not a distraction,” he says, his voice low and earnest. “If anything, you’re what keeps me grounded. Reminds me why I do all this in the first place.”

You look down at your joined hands, your heart aching with how much you want to believe him. But that small voice in the back of your mind—the one that insists you don’t belong in his world—won’t quite quiet.

He lifts your hand to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to your knuckles, and you finally meet his gaze. There’s something raw and vulnerable in his eyes, something that reassures you that, despite all his bravado, he really means every word.

“Besides,” he says, breaking the silence with a soft smile, “I could use a little distraction now and then. Keeps things interesting.”

You can’t help but laugh, the sound slipping out before you can stop it. He grins, clearly pleased with himself for coaxing a laugh out of you, and pulls you closer, wrapping an arm around your waist.

“See?” he murmurs, his lips brushing against your forehead. “This is exactly what I mean. I need this. I need you.”

The sincerity in his voice nearly undoes you. You lean into him, letting his warmth seep into you, and feel some of the tension begin to melt away. Maybe he’s right. Maybe you’re allowed to want him, to need him. It’s not something you’re used to, but he makes it feel… okay.

“Thank you,” you whisper, the words feeling inadequate but all you can manage. He seems to understand, his hold on you tightening slightly.

“Anytime,” he replies, his voice soft. “You don’t have to thank me, you know. I like being here for you.”

As you stand there, wrapped in his arms, you feel a familiar swell of warmth and contentment. It’s easy to forget about the doubts when you’re here with him, when he holds you like you’re his whole world. You want to stay like this forever, to keep him close and hold onto this feeling.

After a few moments, he pulls back slightly, looking down at you with a gentle smile. “How about we get some breakfast?” he suggests, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “Unless you’re in the mood for some early-morning science experiments.”

You shake your head, smiling. “Breakfast sounds nice.”

He nods, taking your hand in his and leading you toward the kitchen. You don’t miss the way he keeps his hand on yours, his thumb tracing soft patterns along your skin, as if he’s reminding you that he’s here, that he’s not going anywhere.

In the kitchen, he moves around easily, gathering ingredients, cracking jokes about his questionable cooking skills, though you know he’s actually a pretty decent cook when he puts his mind to it. You watch him, a soft smile playing on your lips as he makes his way through the routine with a surprising amount of focus.

As you sit together, sipping coffee and sharing bites of scrambled eggs, the silence between you is comfortable. And for once, you don’t feel like you need to say anything more. His presence alone is enough to chase away any lingering doubts, even if only for a little while.

You walk through the front door, shoulders slumped, heels clicking softly against the floor as you make your way into the penthouse. The apartment is dimly lit, a golden glow spilling from the tall floor lamps that line the hallway, giving the whole space a quiet, warm ambience. But tonight, the usual comfort it offers feels far away, unreachable. Work had been a marathon of stress—a heavy, seemingly unending to-do list combined with a particularly harsh round of feedback from your boss. All you want is to disappear into bed and leave this day behind.

As you move into the living room, your tired eyes scan the familiar space, hoping Tony’s already in his lab or engrossed in some project. It’s not that you don’t want to see him. You do, more than anything. But you feel raw, your emotions precariously close to spilling over, and you don’t want to worry him with this heavy weight you’re carrying. You tell yourself it’s better if you deal with it alone.

But, like always, Tony surprises you.

You’re barely three steps in when you hear him. “Hey, gorgeous.” His voice is low, gentle, and immediately makes you stop in your tracks. You look over, and there he is, standing by the kitchen island, casually leaning against it with his usual effortless charm, a small smile tugging at his lips.

His gaze softens as he takes in your appearance. You’re not exactly hiding how tired you are, and the moment he sees the weariness etched on your face, his expression shifts. His smile fades, replaced by a look of concern.

He’s in front of you before you even realize it, his hands reaching out to rest gently on your shoulders. “Tough day?” he asks softly, his thumb stroking comfortingly along your arm.

You nod, swallowing down the lump that’s been building in your throat. “Something like that,” you manage, trying to force a small smile, but it barely reaches your eyes.

Tony’s brows knit together, and he studies you intently for a moment, taking in every detail, every sign of exhaustion, of stress. He knows you well enough to see through the act, to recognize the way your shoulders slump just a little more than usual, the slight downturn of your mouth that you’re trying to hide.

Without a word, he slips one arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him, and with his other hand, he cradles the back of your head, holding you to his chest. His scent—clean, with that hint of metal and machinery that always lingers around him—fills your senses, and you let out a shuddering breath, finally allowing yourself to relax, if only a little.

“It’s okay,” he murmurs, his voice a warm rumble against your ear. “You’re home now. You don’t have to keep it together here.”

The words are simple, but the way he says them, so soft and sincere, chips away at the wall you’ve built around yourself today. Your shoulders sag, and before you can stop yourself, you’re leaning fully into him, letting his strength hold you up.

Tony’s hand rubs soothing circles along your back, and you can feel him swaying slightly, as though he’s rocking you, trying to melt away the tension that clings to you.

“You know, I was going to ask about your day,” he says, his tone light, almost playful. “But something tells me it wasn’t exactly a five-star experience.”

A humorless laugh escapes you, and you nod against his chest. “That’s putting it mildly.”

“Thought so.” He pulls back just enough to look at you, his hands moving to cup your face. His thumbs brush away a stray tear you hadn’t even realized had fallen, and his eyes meet yours, full of a warmth that feels like it’s wrapping around you, even more comforting than the physical closeness.

“Listen,” he says, his voice dropping to that low, intimate tone that he reserves only for you, “you know you’re incredible, right? Like… undeniably, unbeatably, ridiculously amazing.”

You can’t help but roll your eyes a little, even as your lips twitch into a tiny smile. “Tony…”

“No, no, don’t ‘Tony’ me,” he interrupts, grinning slightly. “I’m serious. They’re lucky to have you. They’re damn lucky. And if they can’t see that, then they clearly don’t know what they’re doing.”

The sincerity in his voice makes your heart ache in the best way, and you feel another tear slip down your cheek. “Thank you,” you whisper, your voice barely audible. It’s all you can manage, but the gratitude in those two words is enough to make him lean forward and press a soft kiss to your forehead.

“Come here.” He guides you over to the couch, still holding you close. He sits down first, then pulls you onto his lap, wrapping his arms around you as if he can shield you from all the worries of the world. “Now, I want you to tell me everything, but first… let’s get you a little more comfortable, okay?”

With a gentle tug, he pulls a soft throw blanket around your shoulders, tucking it securely around you. You settle against his chest, feeling the warmth of his body seeping into yours, and let out a long, shaky breath.

For a few minutes, you don’t say anything. Tony doesn’t push, doesn’t try to make you talk. He simply holds you, his fingers running soothingly through your hair, tracing little patterns along your shoulder. Slowly, bit by bit, the tension that’s been coiled tightly within you begins to unwind.

Finally, you begin to tell him about your day, about the endless meetings and the impossible deadlines and the feeling that no matter how much you give, it’s never quite enough. You tell him about the criticism, the way it felt like a blow to the chest, and how you’d spent the rest of the day doubting yourself, questioning if you were really cut out for this job.

He listens, his face a mixture of empathy and frustration, his hand never stopping its comforting rhythm. When you finish, he’s quiet for a moment, his gaze intense as he processes everything you’ve told him.

“Alright, first of all,” he begins, his voice firm but gentle, “none of this—none of it—means you’re anything less than extraordinary. I know it’s hard to see that right now, but you need to know it. You’re one of the most capable, hardworking, and downright brilliant people I know, and anyone who says otherwise clearly doesn’t know what they’re talking about.”

A tear slips down your cheek, and Tony wipes it away, his thumb lingering on your skin. “I mean it,” he continues, his tone softening. “You’re allowed to have bad days, but don’t ever think that one rough day—or even a hundred—defines who you are. You’re incredible, and you don’t have to prove that to anyone.”

You can’t help the small, shaky smile that tugs at your lips. “Thank you, Tony. I… I needed to hear that.”

He presses a gentle kiss to your temple. “Good. Because I’m not done yet.”

You chuckle, feeling the weight on your chest ease a little more. He shifts slightly, so you’re facing him, his hands still cradling your face as he looks at you with a tenderness that makes your heart ache.

“I need you to know,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper, “that you’re not alone in this. You have me, always. And I’ll be here, on the days that feel impossible and the days that feel amazing and every single day in between. You don’t have to carry everything by yourself, okay?”

The tears come more freely now, but this time, they’re mixed with relief, with gratitude, with the overwhelming feeling of being truly seen, truly loved. “Thank you,” you whisper again, your voice breaking slightly. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Good thing you’ll never have to find out,” he replies, a soft smile playing at the corners of his lips.

He leans forward, pressing his lips to yours in a gentle, lingering kiss, as if he’s pouring all the reassurance, all the comfort, all the love he has for you into that one, tender moment. You sink into it, feeling your worries and doubts melt away, if only for a little while.

When he pulls back, he studies your face, brushing his thumb along your cheek. “How about a little pampering tonight?” he suggests, his tone warm, playful. “You’ve had a rough day, and I happen to have a few ideas for how to make it better.”

A small laugh escapes you, and you nod, leaning your forehead against his. “That sounds… perfect.”

He grins, kissing the tip of your nose before he stands, carefully lifting you in his arms. You let out a surprised laugh, clinging to his shoulders as he carries you into the bathroom. He sets you down gently, and you watch as he begins filling the large, luxurious bathtub with warm water, adding your favorite bath oils, the ones that smell like lavender and vanilla.

When he’s done, he turns to you, his eyes warm and gentle. “Go on,” he says, nodding toward the tub. “I’ll be here when you’re ready.”

You smile, the weight on your chest almost completely lifted now, and slip into the warm, soothing water. As you sink down, feeling the stress and tension dissolve, you can’t help but feel a sense of overwhelming gratitude for him, for his love, for the way he always seems to know exactly what you need.

After a while, you hear a soft knock on the door,

and you smile as Tony peeks in, holding a cup of tea in one hand and a book in the other. “Thought you might want some company,” he says, his voice soft and tentative, as though he’s giving you the option to say no.

“Come on in,” you reply, your heart warming at the sight of him.

He sits on the edge of the tub, placing the tea within reach, and opens the book, reading softly to you as you soak. His voice is a comforting background, and you close your eyes, letting the words wash over you.

When you finally step out of the bath, he’s there, wrapping a towel around you and pulling you into his arms once more. “Feel a little better?” he asks, his tone gentle.

You nod, smiling up at him. “A lot better, actually. Thank you, Tony. For… everything.”

He brushes a damp strand of hair from your face, his expression tender. “Anytime, sweetheart. You’re worth it. Every single bit.”

In that moment, you know that no matter how hard the days get, you’ll never have to face them alone. And that’s more than enough.

Over time, something shifts within you. At first, it’s subtle—a moment here and there where you catch yourself hesitating, wondering if you should share your thoughts, your concerns, the little pieces of your day that feel too insignificant to mention. But then you remember the way Tony looked at you that night, the way he held you close, told you you’d never be a bother to him, and slowly, that hesitance starts to fade.

The shift is gradual, like the way daylight slowly warms the early morning sky. You don’t wake up one day suddenly unburdened by your worries. Instead, it’s the little things, small instances where you catch yourself reaching out, sharing something with him that you might have once kept to yourself. And each time, his response is the same—warm, attentive, and never anything but patient. The more you share, the more you feel a weight you hadn’t even realized you were carrying begin to lift.

One evening, after another long day, you’re sitting on the couch, thumbing absently through your phone, waiting for him to finish up in the lab. Normally, you’d keep to yourself, not wanting to intrude on his work time. But tonight, something is different. You remember the way he’d told you he wanted to know everything, even the little things, and you feel a gentle nudge inside yourself to let him in, to trust that he means it.

So, instead of waiting in silence, you pick up your phone and shoot him a quick message:

“Hey, I’m out here missing you. How’s it going in the lab?”

It’s a small step, but it feels significant. Not even a minute later, you hear his phone chime, followed by the sound of his quick footsteps coming down the hall. He appears in the doorway, wiping his hands on a towel, a curious grin on his face.

“You missing me, huh?” He raises an eyebrow, leaning against the doorframe, his eyes alight with playful warmth. “Well, in that case, the lab can wait.”

You laugh, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. He crosses the room and sits beside you, slipping an arm around your shoulders as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. The fact that you reached out, that you asked for him instead of waiting in silence, feels like another small triumph, a step toward something better, something more open.

Over the next few weeks, you find yourself testing this new sense of freedom more and more. At first, it’s little things—telling him about a frustrating conversation at work, venting about the coworker who talks too loudly on phone calls, or sharing a funny meme that you know will make him laugh. He listens, reacts, and responds with the same steady interest, the same comforting warmth, as if there’s nothing in the world he’d rather do than sit and hear you talk about your day.

Then, on a quiet Saturday night, you reach another milestone without even realizing it. You’re lying together on the couch, your head resting on his chest as he absentmindedly traces patterns along your arm. You feel safe, calm, and in a moment of vulnerability, you decide to share a worry that’s been nagging at you.

“Tony,” you begin, hesitating as you search for the right words. He hums, a gentle sound of encouragement, his gaze steady on you as he waits for you to continue.

“I’ve been… worrying about my performance at work,” you admit softly. “I know I do a good job, but sometimes I feel like I’m not as capable as everyone thinks. Like, any day now, they’re going to figure out I’m a fraud.”

You’d never have admitted this before, would have held it tight, afraid that voicing it would make it real. But here, in his arms, under his reassuring gaze, you feel safe enough to let it out.

He doesn’t respond right away, and for a moment, you worry that you’ve said too much, that maybe this is one of those things he doesn’t want to hear. But then, he shifts, sitting up slightly so he can look directly into your eyes.

“You’re serious?” he asks, his voice laced with genuine surprise. “Y/N, that couldn’t be further from the truth. You’re incredibly talented—you’re doing a great job because you are great at what you do. Do you have any idea how impressive you are to me?”

You bite your lip, feeling the usual wave of doubt, but his words are grounding, steadying you. He reaches out, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear, his gaze filled with a sincerity that makes your heart race.

“And even if you did stumble—because let’s be real, everyone does sometimes—you’d still be amazing. You’re allowed to have moments of doubt, but don’t let them make you forget how incredibly talented you are.” He pulls you close, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “Besides, anyone who can put up with me is automatically a superhero in my book.”

His lightheartedness draws a laugh from you, and you feel a weight lift from your shoulders. His faith in you is unwavering, and bit by bit, you find yourself starting to believe in it, too.

After that, opening up becomes a little easier. When you’re feeling overwhelmed, instead of bottling it up, you find yourself seeking him out, talking things through rather than sitting in silence. You start leaving little notes for him around the house—sticky notes on his desk, text messages while he’s working, small reminders of the way you feel, of your gratitude and love.

One evening, after an especially stressful day, you come home and immediately collapse onto the couch, letting out a long sigh. Tony’s head pops around the corner a moment later, a curious grin on his face.

“Rough day?” he asks, coming over to sit beside you, his hand immediately finding yours.

You nod, squeezing his hand. “One of those days where nothing went right,” you admit, sinking into the couch with a groan. Normally, you’d put on a brave face, act as though it didn’t bother you, but tonight, you feel safe enough to let him see the truth.

He chuckles softly, pulling you into his side. “Well, lucky for you, I have the perfect solution,” he announces, his voice filled with that familiar mischief.

Before you can ask what he means, he’s standing up, tugging you along with him into the kitchen. He moves around with practiced ease, grabbing ingredients from the fridge and pantry as he explains his plan.

“We’re making pizza from scratch,” he declares, rolling up his sleeves. “Trust me, nothing takes the edge off a bad day like smashing some dough around. Plus, I happen to know a certain someone who loves pizza.”

You laugh, feeling a flicker of excitement push back against the fatigue. Together, you roll out the dough, sprinkle on toppings, and laugh as flour ends up on both of your faces. It’s messy, fun, and by the time the pizza is in the oven, you realize you’ve completely forgotten about your bad day.

As the pizza bakes, you sit at the kitchen island, resting your head on your hand, watching him with a soft smile. The gratitude you feel in this moment is almost overwhelming, and for once, you don’t hold back.

“Thank you, Tony,” you say softly, reaching out to take his hand. “For… for all of this. For always being there.”

He looks at you, his expression shifting from playful to sincere in an instant. “Always,” he promises, giving your hand a squeeze. “And, hey, thanks for letting me be there. I love that you’re opening up to me more. It means a lot.”

You smile, feeling a warmth spread through you at his words. It’s a reminder that this is a two-way street, that your openness matters to him as much as his support does to you.

The more time passes, the more natural it becomes. You talk about everything now—your fears, your hopes, your triumphs, and your failures. The walls you’d once held up so carefully have crumbled, replaced by a new sense of trust and security that you never thought possible.

One night, you find yourself lying in bed beside him, staring up at the ceiling in the soft glow of the bedside lamp. He’s already half-asleep, his breathing slow and even, but you reach over, slipping your hand into his and giving it a gentle squeeze.

“Hey, Tony?” you whisper, your voice barely audible.

He stirs, squeezing your hand in return. “Yeah?”

There’s a long pause as you gather your thoughts, trying to find the words to express the depth of your gratitude. “I just… I just wanted to say thank you. For everything. For… helping me feel safe enough to be myself with you.”

He turns toward you, his eyes soft and filled with a tenderness that takes your breath away. “You don’t ever have to thank me for that,” he says, his voice gentle. “I love you for exactly who you are. And I’m just glad you’re letting me in.”

He presses a soft kiss to your forehead, wrapping his arm around you and pulling you close. In his embrace, you feel a profound sense of belonging, a feeling of being loved and accepted completely, and for the first time in a long time, you allow yourself to believe it fully.

if you liked the story leave a like and a reblog and drop a follow if you want to read more! <3

[cumsuga]

Grey Areas Pt 2

taehyung x fem!reader

genre. smut, fluff, angst, romance, non-idol!au, twin!taehyung, BIL!taehyung, widowedmother!reader

Your husband is dead, now you're trying to avoid the man that looks exactly like him. The only problem with that is trauma bonds people, sometimes in more ways than one 

warnings: death of a spouse, sleeping with your brother-in-law, grief, unprotected sex (Be safe and be smart; please use condoms), mentions of part infidelity, smoking, light drinking, taehyung is definitely in love with his sister-in-law aka reader, you're a mama (lots of drama), yall be fuckin', anal(?), Taehyung likes fat asses.

word count: 5k

18+ (Minors DNI)

A/n: First and foremost, thank you, @hbkdrecs, for testing/proofreading! I don't know if I'll make this a series or just leave it a mini. Anyway, thank you, everyone,for all the support! Please support your local fic writer by liking and reblogging! Y'all are the best!

Taglist!: @ohsweetmimosa

“You know you fucked up, right?” Jimin asks. Taehyung had spent the two weeks with you as he told you he would. Every night was spent in each other's arms, him in between your thighs or you on your knees. You couldn’t understand what it was about Taehyung, but you couldn’t keep your hands off him. Part of you thought it was because he looked like his brother, but the other part thought he was nothing like Sujin. Taehyung was the complete opposite of him, making you want him even more. 

“Jimin, you told me you wouldn’t judge me.” you rub the bridge of your nose. Jimin, your best friend since birth, was known to be a judgy bitch, but right now, you need less judgment and more advice.

“Listen, I’m never one to judge, but bitch.. He’s your dead husband's IDENTICAL twin brother… Right now is the best time to judge. Hell, this is like the plot of an awful lifetime movie. Except Taehyung didn’t trick you into thinking he was Sujin.” he takes a sip of his tea, smiling.

“I’m going to hell, aren’t I?” you gnaw on your thumb. You’re too far gone with Taehyung to go back now. You think you may even love him. He makes you feel safe. He'd choose you if he had to choose between you or his family. It was a naive way to think, but you didn’t care. Why should you? Sujin cheated on you for the majority of your pregnancy, and though you’re not one for revenge, it sure tastes good cold.

“Oh baby, straight to hell, but that's okay. You can explain to Sujin when you see him there.” he chuckles, scooting a mug over to you.

“Jimin. That's not funny. I was with Su for most of my life, and we were married. It’s too early to joke about it! You’re literally being the worst best friend ever.” You groan, and you wish he would be serious. “This is like life or death, serious.”

“My love, you’ve crossed a line from which you can no longer return. There is no advice I could possibly give you that would make you feel better.  You're smitten. I knew you were when you called and told me you had to tell me something.” 

You sign because, though you’ll never tell him, he’s right. You crossed a line, but you never said you wanted to return. You were fine with knowing you fucked your dead husband’s brother. You could live with it because Sujin would never find out. The only problem was that you didn’t know if you could stop.

—-

“Bro.. that's fucked.” Jungkook looks horrified.

“Listen, I’ve been in love with her since I was 10. I know it’s wrong, but she means everything to me. I just want to take care of her.” Taehyung shrugs Jungkook off. He feels remorse about it, but he won’t lose sleep over it. 

“But that’s your brother's wife. Morally, it’s wrong. Jungkook is justifiably horrified.” Namjoon chimes, 

“Namjoon, you slept with Jungkook’s sister. I don’t wanna hear SHIT from you.” he’s starting to regret telling his friends about his indiscretion. Jungkook looks bewildered by the revelation, but everyone decides it’s best not to open that particular can of worms.

“I support you.” Yoongi walks into the garage. “Namjoon sent me a voice note of the details. I don’t think what you did was wrong. From what you told us about her before, you called dibs, and Su disregarded bro code. Fuck’em.”

“Hey, that’s still my brother. Chill.” he mean mugs Yoongi.

“Man, we’re a little past the respect thing for Su. I’ll always have love for him, but if we're being honest, he was a shitty guy. Lest we forget the 2016 incident? He’s been doing this shit to that girl for years, we all knew, and we said nothing. We’re all just as bad as him. Namjoon, you witnessed the 2016 incident. Jungkook, you knew it was gonna happen, and Tae Su told you everything. So let’s not all act like we’re all holier than thou.” Yoongi lights a cigarette and takes a long drag.

Everyone is quiet, reflecting on how they’ve all wronged you. Taehyung felt the worst about it all because he knew Sujin had cheated before, but you guys were kids when it happened, and he didn’t think Su would do it again. Taehyung made Sujin swear he wouldn’t, or he’d tell you everything.

“Yoongi’s right…” Jungkook and Namjoon say in unison.

“I know... I know.” He sighs, “What should I do? All I want to do is be with her.”

“So do it. At this point, Tae, you have nothing to lose. If your family disagrees, fuck them. You’ve secretly loved the girl for years. I’m sure Sujin would forgive you. Hell, you forgave him. Now is the time to act.” Taehyung nods, “One more thing... Are you ever gonna tell her it was you?”

Taehyung calls you while you’re returning from picking up groceries. He tells you he wants to talk, and you’re happy because you also want to talk. You miss him, as crazy as it sounds. You want nothing more than to be in his presence.

When you pull up, he’s outside again waiting for you. When he sees you, he immediately goes to help you with Azra. Giving you a quick peck before he rounds the car to you. “Hi, princess.”  He gets him out of the car and grabs his diaper bag. Your heart melts seeing him and Azra together, and you feel so fucking guilty. Jimin's words are starting to affect you more than you thought they would.

“DADDY!” Azra screams when he sees Taehyung, squishing Taehyung’s cheeks together. Naturally, you go to correct him, but Taehyung is visibly uncomfortable with it and quickly corrects him.

“No baby, I’m Uncle Taetae. Daddy… Daddy is with Grandpa in the sky.” He points to the sky, and Azra looks up and repeats the word sky. Taehyung pecks his head and walks into the house with you.

He sets Azra in his play place when he gets in and helps you with whatever you are carrying. “Go rest, I’ll grab the rest.” but you pull him back to you.

“Wait. I missed you. C’mere,” You pull him into a kiss. It’s soft and sweet. He smiles into the kiss. He finds it strange how natural everything feels, and he finds it even stranger that he doesn’t feel guilty about what you two are doing. 

He gently pulls you away, “My love, I’ll be right back. I’m just gonna go get the groceries. I’m not going anywhere.” He pecks you once more before heading out the door.

You sit with Azra and play with him while Taehyung brings in all the groceries, and you wish Sujin was like this. Sujin helped but never made it a point to do it all himself. The more you compare the two, the more resentful you grow of Su. You want to hate yourself for it desperately, but you can’t. 

Taehyung calls out to you from the kitchen, “Babe, did you mean to buy baby food?” you can hear him rummaging through the cabinets and putting stuff away.

“Yeah, I thought we were out. Why?” you say as Azra tries to climb in your lap.

“Because you bought more baby food and have a whole bunch.” You plop him on top of you. He begins playing with your fingers lazily while watching Baby Shark.

“Oh, well, now I won’t have to go get more in two weeks.” everything feels so domestic. It scares you a bit. “Hey, you said you wanted to talk. What about?” You stand up with Azra and walk towards the kitchen.

“About… us.” He stops what he’s doing and looks over at you. He gives you a look that worries you just a bit. Sujin would look at you like that right before starting an argument.

“What about us?” You ask as Azra reaches out for Taehyung, and Taehyung happily takes him.

“Azzy, no fingers in your mouth.” You move to take his thumb out of his mouth, and Azra buries his head into Tae’s chest.

“Daddy..” he pouts into him, and at this point, Taehyung is too tired to keep correcting Azra. 

“That’s not Daddy, Azra.” you try to take him back from Tae, but he starts to cry and cling to him.

“Daddy! Az say no!” Azra cries out.

Taehyung sighs, “Has he napped today?” 

You shake your head no, “Just leave him. He’s cranky because someone needs a nap. Azzy want to take a nap with… papa?” Azra nods his head, and they leave to go to the bedroom so Taehyung can put him down for a nap. Fifteen minutes later, Taehyung emerges from the bedroom and joins you on the couch. 

“I’ve never seen him so cranky.” he tried to pull you closer to him, but he could tell you were upset. “What’s wrong?”

“Don’t ever do that again.” you push away from him. “You’re not his dad, don’t do that. I don’t like that.”

He pulls you into his lap, “Listen, I know I’m not his dad. But he was cranky, and I was just trying to remedy the situation. I’m sorry, baby.” you pout at him, and he kisses it away. You’re both silent for a while, watching the TV.

“Do you think we’re bad people?” you question out of nowhere, turning to face him.

“What do you mean?” he’s still looking at the TV but rubbing your knee lazily.

“Tae, look at me.” he looks towards you, so you question again, “Do you think we’re bad people?”

“I mean, kinda. We are bad people because of our previous relationship, but at the same time, I don't think we're bad people for finding solace in each other. I’ve loved you for a very long time, Y/N. I’m not faulting myself for finally expressing that; I don’t care if my family is upset about it. We’re happy. Shouldn’t that mean the most?” his eyes feel like they're burrowing into your soul. 

“What do you mean you’ve loved me for a very long time?” The revelation takes you aback, but he’s silent. His cheeks are flushed, and he can’t believe he just told on himself.

“I–I’m. Uhh..” he doesn’t know what to say. He’s scared of your thoughts when he tells you the truth. But he takes a deep breath and lets it go. “You remember when we were all kids? Do you remember when Sujin confessed to you? Well… that wasn’t Su… It was me. And even though you were with Sujin, I never got over you… That’s why I stopped coming around as much when you and Su got married, even less when you got pregnant, and all together when Azra was born. Because I didn’t want to accept that you chose Su, I couldn’t take the fact that my brother knew how I felt about you and still decided to be with you. Sujin wasn’t as amazing a person as everyone thought. He was and still is an asshole. I know I should be upset that he’s dead, but I can’t be. My brother was a terrible person to me. Now I’m just happy I finally get to be with the only woman I’ve ever loved.” 

You’re shocked. It felt like a million volts to your system. You never thought in a million years that Taehyung was the boy who confessed to you. He was always so quiet and reserved. Even in middle school and high school, he was never into dating, but now it all makes sense. He never really dated because he wanted to be with you.

“Well… Well, what about Naomi? You two were together for five years. You can’t tell me you didn’t love her. You had to have if you were together so long.” You need him to tell you he’s lying. He has to be because it feels like Sujin used you to get under Taehyung’s skin right now.

“I mean sure… I thought I loved her and wished God that I could have given her what she wanted from me. But It wasn’t fair to keep stringing her along. If I could take it back and not hurt her the way I did, I would in a heartbeat. No one deserves that, and I hate that I did that to someone. To this day, I send her little things to apologize. All of them returned, but I feel a little better knowing I’m trying to right my wrongs to her.” he’s looking at his hands, ashamed of his past actions.

“Why didn’t you ever say anything?” you take his hands in yours, just a little sign to show him you’re not closing him out. He felt so much relief knowing you weren’t scared of his secret.

“What was I supposed to say, Y/N? ‘Hey, I’m actually the guy that confessed to you, and I think you should be with me and not the man you had a baby with?’ You would’ve looked at me like I had six heads, baby. I know you.” he sighs.

“I wouldn’t have… Honestly, the more we’re together, the more I wonder what life would have been like if we had been together since childhood,” you say honestly, and you feel like a weight has lifted from you. Even though Sujin’s only been gone a month, you’re entirely ready to let him go. You’re tired of keeping this relationship a secret and don’t care what others say about it. Sujin wasn’t a good husband to you, and you were tired of pretending he was.

Taehyung smiles at you, “Honestly, me too.” he kisses you softly.

“What are we going to tell Azra when he gets older?” This was your primary worry. You didn’t want your son to get bullied because kids are ruthless.

“Don’t beat me up when I say this, but maybe we should raise him as mine? I mean.. Genetically he is. I will have to get used to him calling me dad, but I’m with it if you are?”

Taehyung sees your shift in mood, but he knows that you know he’s right. “I’ll have to think about that, Taehyung... You’re right, but I’m still a little apprehensive about it.” you’re chewing on your thumb again, but Taehyung pulls it from your mouth to kiss you.

“No fingers in your mouth but mine,” he says as he moves to kiss your neck, and you push him away, giggling. 

“Ew, don’t ever say stuff like that to me. Weirdo.” You stand up from the couch, and he smacks your ass as you walk past him. 

“Where you going?” He asks as you disappear into the back of the house. You wanted to make sure Azra was asleep.

“I'm just checking on the baby.” You walk back into the living room, sitting in Tae’s lap.

“God, my brother didn’t deserve you. You’re such a great woman. I don’t care what anyone says.” You two are trying to make out, but something constantly interrupts you. This time, it’s your phone, and it’s your mother-in-law. She sounds pissed but keeps everything very short.

“Your mom is on her way here. She sounds mad. I think you should leave..” You’re panicking. She alluded to knowing about you and Taehyung. “I think she knows.”

“So what? You said you wanted to be with me. Why does it matter if she knows or not?” You’re pacing the living room. How could she have found out? You didn’t tell anyone outside of Jimin. You didn’t go anywhere together. There's no way... “Taehyung, please. I don’t think this is going to end well for you… for us..”

“No. I’m not leaving. I love you, and I want to be with you. I don’t care what she thinks.” He stands firm on it, not even budging off the couch. You didn’t want to do this, especially in front of your son. But before you could even process it, there was a knock at your door.

“Taehyung, please! Hide or something. Azra,” you’re whisper yelling at this point, and the knock is getting louder. But she barges in like God was punishing you for being in love. You had forgotten you had given her a key when you and Su bought the house. She sees Taehyung sitting there and immediately starts with the bullshit you were trying to avoid.

“So, it’s true?” she sneers, “Ms. Killian called and told me you haven’t left since the funeral. She told me that she had seen you two kissing in the driveway. So is that what you do? Like a whore? Your husband, my son, dies, and you move on to his brother? And you flaunt it in public. You must be a whore. Is that baby even Sujin’s, or is it Taehyung’s or some other man's?”

You stand there quietly. Too terrified to speak, you thought you were ready for everyone to know about you and him, but fuck were you wrong. This is your worst nightmare. “Speak, whore!” she screams at you.

“Please..” you say meekly, “The baby.”

“Oh, so now you care about my grandson? You didn’t care when you were fucking his uncle. You didn’t care when you were flaunting it to the whole fucking neighborhood!”

You look at Taehyung, and he immediately steps in front of you, “Don’t talk to her like that. You know nothing but what you were told by some senile old lady that doesn’t ever know how to mind her own fucking business.”

She smacks him, scoffing, “Don’t you ever insult my intelligence, you little shit. You were always like this, so jealous of your brother. Always wanting what he had. You never amounted to half of what your brother was.”

“My brother was a lying, cheating piece of trash. I spoke to Natalie. She told me you gave her Su’s number and encouraged her to contact him because his current girlfriend wasn’t as hard-working and was freeloading off your son. You were complicit in his cheating on his pregnant wife. Don’t act so fucking high and mighty, mother. You’re the exact same as Su, and that’s why my father left you.”

You stand there stunned. You don’t want to believe Taehyung, but what would he gain from lying about it? She says nothing and looks away from the both of you. That confirms all you need to know. She knew about it.

“I did nothing of the sort.” she scoffs again, “You’re the one lying up in his house with his wife. You both are scum. My son deserved better than a whore for a wife and a worthless piece of trash like you for a brother.”

“Oh please, you miserable insufferable cunt. You only cared about Su because he did whatever you told him to do. You’re upset because you no longer have someone to control. It fucking kills you to see me happy. But you know what? I couldn’t give less of a fuck. I love her, and she loves me. Go fuck yourself.”

“I think you need to leave.” You hear Azra crying in the distance. “Actually, get the fuck out of my house.” you’re seething. If you knew you wouldn’t go to jail for beating her ass, you do it in a heartbeat.

She doesn’t budge, and she is stubborn, just like Su. “I SAID GET THE FUCK OUTTA MY HOUSE, YOU EVIL BITCH!” 

“When I tell the family, you will have nothing. You will be alone, just like you always were.” Taehyung just shakes his head in disdain, “Just you wait, and as for you, you little slut. If I ever see your face again, I’ll slap that fucking look off of it.”

“I dare you to. Now get out.” You say, pushing her out the door and rushing to Azra.

“Sh, sh, sh, it’s okay. Momma’s here, my sweet boy. No more tears.”

You're rocking Azra when Taehyung joins you in the room. “I’m sorry, this was never my intention.” He takes Azra from you and sits you in the rocking chair.

“Just sit here and calm down. I’ll get him to stop crying.” He says, walking out of the room and into the kitchen.

When he leaves, you burst into tears; a million thoughts run through your head. What are your parents going to say? What if she tells Azra’s daycare? What will they do? What about Azra and his relationship with them? You knew it was life-ruining and thought you were ready to face it, but you weren’t. You’re scared, and you feel alone in the feeling.

Taehyung joins you with a sleeping Azra back in the room. He sets him gently in the crib and kneels in front of you. “Hey, hey. No more tears, remember? Everything is going to be okay. I will make sure of that. Please don’t cry, sweetheart.” he takes your hands, kissing them softly.

You want to be mad, you want to keep crying, but he just had this effect on you. He made you feel so safe, so secure. You knew he would shield you from the fallout because that’s just what Taehyung does. He’s a nurturer, and you loved that dearly about him.

“I need to tell you one more thing…” he says before telling you about the 2016 incident. He told you about all the girls Sujin cheated on you with before he asked you to marry him. He told you that Sujin said it was to get it out of his system before he was chained down forever. He told you that he kept it from you to protect you and that he should’ve told you when it happened to save you from all the pain you’re going through. He apologized for hurting you and swore never to keep a secret from you again.

“I need you to trust me. I love you more than I’ve ever loved anything in my life. I swear on my life, you mean everything to me, and I’ll never lie to you again, " he says before kissing you passionately. “I love you, Y/N. Please believe me.”

“I never said I didn’t, Dummy. I just wish you would’ve told me before I married that prick.” You say, wiping your nose on your sweater and laughing. He laughs softly with you. “How’d you get him to sleep so quickly?”

“Oh, I told him that if he went back to bed, I’d buy him ice cream after his nap. And I swear he was out like a light. It was pretty weird.” he chuckles.

You cup Taehyung’s cheek, rubbing it softly, “I wish it were you.” you peck him.

“Hey, better late than never at all, am I right?” he gets big-headed, so you push him down, but he pulls you with him. He is kissing you again, this time a little rougher than before.

“Not here. Let’s go to the room.” you stand up, extending your hand to him. “Come cuddle with me.”

He gets up, pulling you close to whisper in your ear, “Oh baby girl, we're gonna do more than cuddle. I’m gonna fuck the shit out of you.” Your cheeks are bright red when he pulls you away.

“Don’t say stuff like that.” you shy away from him, but that only eggs him on more.

“Don’t get all coy on me now. You like it when I talk to you like that.” He picks you up and walks you to your bedroom. He tosses you on the bed. 

“You’re all I need, all I want.” He climbs on top of you, pushing your sweater up splaying his hand across your tummy. “I mean fucking look at you… You’re literally my own personal wet dream.”

He takes his bottom lip between his teeth while he works on getting your jeans off. You’re squirming at his touch. You were never like this with Sujin, but he never cared to take his time with you. He would never even eat you out. The first time you ever got head, it was from Taehyung. And it was the best thing you ever experienced. He told you he loved eating pussy, and said it made him feel like a man to make his woman feel good before him.

“Off with these, I wanna taste you. You looked so sexy putting my mom in her place.” He kisses his way down your tummy and you instinctively try to close your legs. Always so shy to him seeing you so on display. 

“Taehyung..” you keen when he plants a light kiss on the space above your clit, he loved toying with you. He liked seeing you so needy for him. “No games.. Eat it.”

He pops his head up to look at you, ‘Someone is eager, but I think..” he spits directly on your clit and you swear it’s the hottest thing you’ve ever seen, making you clench around nothing.

“I think-fuck- I think, I’ll play with it a little.” he pushes his fingers to your clit, before rubbing his spit around. “I mean, listening to how you sound. One could cum from the sound alone, if I do say so myself. It’s so fucking lewd.”

You moan something that sounds like his name softly, “I’m gonna make you cum just off my fingers before I eat it. I wanna play with your pussy, princess. You like that? Tell me you like it, please… fuck.” he pushes two fingers into you.

“Love it...” you buck your hips into his hand, grabbing his wrist so you could fuck yourself on his finger. Taehyung is just staring at you in awe, I mean sure he’s fingered you before but he’s never seen you like this. “Love it when you play with my pussy, daddy..”

“Fuuuck…” he can’t believe his eyes, his dream girl getting herself off on his fingers. This is everything he hoped for and more. “You’re so fucking nasty.”

“Only for you, wanna be yours. Tell me I’m yours, please baby…please, spit on it again” you beg. And he happily obliges you, he wants nothing more than to get you off quickly so he can go to town on you.

He can feel you starting to squeeze his fingers so he moves his fingers quickly, curling them to rub your G-spot. “You’re mine, my good girl. Fuck, look at you cumming all over my fingers. So fucking hot.”

You come undone beneath him, moaning the most sinful music to his ears, “I’ll eat you out tomorrow.” he pulls you down to the edge of the bed, flipping you on your stomach, and ridding himself of his clothes. 

“I love pretty things,” he smacks your ass hard, causing you to yelp, before getting you into position. He rubs his tip into your wetness before tapping his dick against your clit.

“Lemme put it in your butt.” he prods your hole and you look back at him like he’s crazy. “Taehyung don’t even play with me like that. That’s something that needs preparation.”

He chuckles, “I’m kidding-fuck” he pushes into you,” fuck.. I’m kidding.”

Your head drops into the bed, eyes rolling to the back of your head. Taehyung was big, like you knew lanky men were usually big, but fuck that stretch made you see stars every time.

“Big..” is all you could get out before he starts thrusting into you. He smacks your ass again.

“But you can take it all, can't you.” you nod biting your lip. You feel like you’re on ecstasy every time you two have sex, he hits all the right spots. “Yeah I know you can because you’re my good little cockslut.” he smacks again before gripping your cheeks fucking you back into him.

“All this ass, and you expect me to not want to fuck it? You’re crazy, princess. Your pussy is literally like heroine, I’m fucking hooked.” he thrusts harder into you.

“Yeah! Just like that, fuck me Taehyung… Please fuck me!” you're a mess at this point, he’s completely ruined you.

And just like you asked, he gave you exactly what you were asking for, fucking into you like he was gonna die if he didn’t make you cum again. He enjoyed knowing he made you feel so good, he thrived on it. “Gonna cum…”

“In me.. C-cum in me.” you stutter out, “oh fuck. Oh fuck!”

You cum around him, squeezing him like a vice grip, and he follows suit. You can feel him filling you up, it almost makes you cum again. You loved the warmth of it, but you loved him fucking it out of you even more. Reveled in the feeling of it running down your pussy and thighs. 

When he was done, he collapsed next to you on the bed. Trying but failing to catch his breath. “Can we do it like that again later? That was sexy.” you hum in compliance, the feeling of sleep creeping its way through your veins. And like the gentleman he is, he gets up to get something to clean you up with. 

He returns with a cloth, the coolness stinging your heated skin, but he’s gentle when he reaches your vulva, making sure not to rub your clit too hard but just enough to rid you of the cum that is now starting to dry. “Sorry, I’m trying to be gentle.” he squeaks out.

“I love you,” you say sleepily as he gets you into some pajama shorts. “So much.” 

“I love you too, baby girl.” he kisses your temple before leaving for the bathroom. Before you fall asleep, you hear the shower run. You smile in contentment. You could get used to having Taehyung around. You know now for sure that you won’t mind all the stares and gossip as long as he's by your side. You could make it through the day knowing you get to come home to a man who really loved you. So what? You found genuine happiness in your husband's brother; stranger things have happened. This was your grey area. This was the way life was meant to be, how it was supposed to be. You’re ready to move on as long as it’s with him. 

© @cumsuga 2016-2024. All rights reserved. — Unauthorized use or duplication of these works, including reposting, translating, and modification in any form, is strictly prohibited. DO NOT USE MY CONTENT FOR ANY AI PURPOSES WHAT SO EVER

credit to @cafekitsune for the dividers

[lucid-loves]

Taste Like Venom ~ Simon "Ghost" Riley Part 8

Pairing: Ghost x assassin!reader (fem!reader, no use of y/n, callsign “Hex”)

Word Count: 5k

CW: angst, violence, blood, strong language, scars, enemies to lovers trope, slow burn, fluff, clear attraction and sexual tension, smut later on, reader POV and ghost POV, minors dni, Soap lives in this AU

Let me know if I missed any CWs.

Story Synopsis: After Makarov gets away once again, Laswell decides to force a favor from you, the world’s greatest assassin and best-kept secret. You are now expected to help the 141 with taking down Makarov in addition to playing nice with them. It’s hard to play nice when you have always worked alone. It doesn’t help that one of the team members, Ghost, gets curious about you in each interaction. 

Chapter Synopsis: You’ve arrived in Paris and have successfully infiltrated the catacombs. However, things take an unexpected turn for the best and worst.

Part 1 ~ Part 2 ~ Part 3 ~ Part 4 ~ Part 5 ~ Part 6 ~ Part 7 ~ Part 8 ~ Part 9 ~ Part 10

The train approached the station right on time, the brakes smoothing out right onto the platform. By now, the train station was busy with people. It wouldn’t be hard to lose someone within the crowd. That was why it was so important to tag the targets instead of relying on eyesight alone. 

From a suitable distance, the 141 tailed Makarov’s men, making sure to blend in when necessary. It wasn’t hard to look like one of the many groups of tourists in Paris. An odd group, but a group nonetheless. Soon enough, you halted the chase, allowing the targets to head to their destination. If you followed them all the way to their secret entrance, you all would be spotted immediately. For now, it was wise to head to a hotel spot nearby and track the targets by computer. The men weren’t used to hotel hopping so much. According to you, it was much less conspicuous to stay in a hotel rather than a guarded building on behalf of the United States government. 

Not that they were complaining. They were grateful to have comfortable beds while on a mission. There were many, many missions that required them to sleep on the ground. Sometimes they didn’t have sleeping bags or cots with them. The actual beds have led to most of them getting better rest than normal.

This hotel looked just about the same as the last one. Pretty generic, clean, and only local art on the walls that looked similar to the many artists on the streets. The room pairing was the same as well. Soap and Ghost in a room, Price and Gaz in the other, and one all to yourself. You didn’t mind bunking with any of them if it was necessary. Right now, it just wasn’t.

Ghost was a little disappointed that you didn’t invite him to stay with you, but he wasn’t surprised. Admittedly, a part of him did love the chase. He also had a new motivation when it came to you. Complete the mission and convince you to stay. He knew that you were wavering when it came to the possibility of going back off the grid after everything was over. While he wasn’t sure what you would end up doing if you decided to stick with him, he didn’t care. He just wanted you by his side.

Perhaps if you could see how capable he was during the final stages of the mission, you would.

You all sat in a bedroom, carefully tracking the targets and their luggage. On a large map, Gaz began to trace the trail for Paris on the surface. Price was going through local cameras as well to determine their secret entrance. Soap was looking at a laptop that kept track of them with red dots. All of it took coordination and relying on each other. When it came down to it, the 141 was like a well-oiled machine.

As soon as Gaz noticed that the tracking route didn’t match the Paris roads and Price lost sight, Ghost and you began tracking the targets on a different map. A massive map of the catacombs. When men went one way while the luggage went the other, you both picked out a focus and traced them on the map. The targets went deeper into the catacombs each minute, amplifying just how dangerous this mission was going to be.

The targets were far from where tourists were allowed to be. It seemed like they were venturing into parts that haven’t even been discovered yet. If the 141 wasn’t careful, they could get lost or die. Whichever came last.  

The team spent hours mapping it all out. By the time you all had a better grip on the labyrinth layout, it was nightfall. 

You’ve skipped lunch with the team in order to memorize the route. Worst case scenarios, you lose light or lose the map. Memorizing the routes could save you if the worst happened. It took you a long time, though. By the time you did, you were starving for dinner.

Thankfully, Simon saved a room service plate for you. He didn’t like the fact that you skipped lunch, but he decided it wasn’t worth the fight. All that mattered was that you had something in your stomach for dinner. Not that you were completely engrossed in your meal to really enjoy it, though.

During dinner, you went over the plan with the team. It was proving to be much too dangerous to have all of you enter the maze of bones. There needed to be backup on the surface. It was finally decided that you, Ghost, and Gaz would go into the labyrinth while Price and Soap tracked you from above. Before leaving, you would plant trackers on yourselves. Then, after entering the maze, Ghost and Gaz would separate from you to head to a different part of the catacombs for standby. You would follow the target route, refine the map with new discoveries, and find Makarov to assassinate him. 

If Makarov wasn’t there, you would call him there. However, that meant spending a night underground. 

As everyone geared up in their rooms, you sat alone in yours. You’ve never been nervous about a mission before. You have always kept your cool, confident that you would be able to finish the job no matter what happened. In and out. Undetected. The fear of death never even had you anxious. Now? Now it was different. There were actually many things on the line for you. Too much at stake to make any mistakes.

There was a soft knock on your door before it opened up. Simon stood in his full gear. Bulletproof vest, helmet, boots. Everything that told the world that he was a soldier. As much as you wanted to admire it, you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him. Instead, your gaze focused on your twiddling thumbs.

“Hey, you alright?” He came closer, kneeling in front of you to see your face better. Having you be nervous was making him nervous. What could possibly have you, the greatest assassin in the world, rattled?

In response, you shook your head. “I never feared death because I never had a life. It’s different now.”

“Oh. . . Hex. . .” He called out, his gloved hand caressing your cheek. For the first time, you leaned into his gentle touch. It nearly had his heart explode for you.

“Sorry. This won’t be a problem once I’m down there and I find my groove. I’ll be okay.” You reassured him and yourself. Giving yourself a pep-talk was new too. 

Just for a moment, Simon wanted to share this short time with you. To be the one to calm your nerves. He lifted his mark partially up, kissing you deeply to break your anxious thoughts. When his kiss finally registered in your brain, you couldn’t help but kiss him back like it was the last kiss you would ever share with him. If things went wrong, it may very well be. 

When he pulled away, his eyes were sharp. Confident. “You’ll be perfect. I know you will.”

Your chest stung painfully at his words of encouragement. Focusing on what could go wrong wasn’t helping you believe in yourself. All you needed to believe in was Ghost. With a resolute nod, you accept his support. “Yeah. I’ll be perfect. Thank you.”

His heart swelled at your quick recovery. If he could, he would follow you all the way through the catacombs and back. 

Simon gave you one last kiss before pulling down his mask again, already missing the feeling of your lips pressed against his. You felt that absence as well, hating and loving that you could now never imagine a life without his kisses. That just made you more determined to finish the job with grace just how you’ve always done. 

~

In the dead of night, Ghost quietly peeled back a manhole cover, revealing nothing but sewer at the bottom. Gaz raised a brow at the reveal, expecting to see bones on bones already. You double checked the map to make sure this was the correct entry point. Unfortunately, it was.

One by one, you climbed down to the sewers, careful not to land in the waters. Ghost spoke into his earpiece. “Entry successful. Can you read us?”

“Crystal clear, Lt. Be careful down there. Who knows just how many of Makarov’s men are there.” Price stressed, carefully watching the monitor from the safety of the hotel bedroom. Soap was tasked with coordinating a mass arrest and seize of weapons once Makarov was confirmed dead. He was on the phone coordinating the plan while Price focused on his team under Paris. 

Carefully, you made your way through the sewers, following the same path as the targets from earlier. The walk already felt long as it was dark, cold, and quiet save the sound of water dripping every so often. No chit chat. No small talk. All focus.

Eventually, you all came across a dead end. Gaz and Ghost began to feel the wall, trying to determine if there was a secret they were missing. You checked the map to confirm your positions. Just as Gaz swiped his hands over the left side of the wall, he felt something out of place. A piece of brick that jutted out just slightly compared to the others. When he pressed down on it, the wall popped open, waiting to be opened like a door. Gaz relayed the information to his captain while you marked it on the map. On Price’s end, he marked a similar map, wanting to match yours with each new discovery. 

Beyond the wall was nothing but pitch black darkness. There was no light for what seemed like miles. When you all turned on your flashlights, you were met with the remains of people from floor to ceiling. Bones dating back hundreds of years surround you. It was eerie. It was somehow a little worse than being surrounded by freshly dead bodies. Perhaps it was the more profound sense of death that made the endless halls feel grim. 

Ghost couldn’t help but feel a bit creeped out as well. Skulls were his signature icon, wearing one right on his face. Yet here, it didn’t feel right to wear his mask so blatantly. It was like all of his kills were haunting him now through the bones of thousands. 

Gaz let out a shuddering breath, trying to get himself under control. It wasn’t a pretty sight, being down there. He wondered how the hell tourists felt so excited to visit this place voluntarily. 

For you, it all just felt like a bad omen. 

“Let’s go. We don’t want to linger for too long.” You announced, trying to shake the heebie jeebies off your shoulders. The others followed closely, listening for human life when their flashlights didn’t reach far enough into the depths. 

After walking for a few miles, you finally approached the anticipated fork in the path. It was time to go your separate ways for now. As you stared down your path, you took off your jacket along with your tracker. Ghost’s eyes narrowed, a fire already erupting in his chest. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

The stagnant air was cold, already giving you goosebumps beneath your long-sleeved shirt. “They may search me if we need to go with Plan B. As soon as they find the tracking device, radio, and earpiece, they’ll kill me. Or capture me for interrogation. Either way, that’s not ideal.”

“How are we supposed to know where you are then? How are we supposed to communicate?” Gaz question, growing worried about your sudden decision as well. 

You threw your jacket to Kyle, him catching it with his fast reflexes. Ghost clenched his jaw tight, almost cracking teeth. He didn’t like this one bit. But, if this is how you perfected your craft, he had no choice but to accept it.

From your pocket, you took out a small bobby pin that matched the color of your hair. You pressed the button on the end, causing it to start connecting to the 141’s earpieces. A new dot popped up on the monitor that Price still watched as well. Through the bobby pin, you spoke softly, your voice coming through their ears. “This is a new piece me and Kate have been working on for a while. It’s more discreet. This will be hidden in my hair and less likely to get spotted even with a search. Any complaints?”

“Hear you loud and clear, Hex. Good thinking, bringing a discreet backup. I’ll have to ask Kate to get me one of those.” Price praised, lightening the mood. Ghost still had complaints, but he kept them to himself for now. There was something heavier weighing him down.

Simon didn’t want to split up. He thought that he would have no problem with it back in the hotel room when he was comforting you. Right at the moment, however, he didn’t want you to go. Especially without your jacket. 

Before you could go off on your own, he pulled you in for a tight hug, not caring if Garrick saw. Kyle, being pretty intelligent about these things, pretended that he didn’t see anything and turned around. Simon would have to treat him to a drink later. 

“Be careful, kitten.” He squeezed you tight, the hug almost crushing your lungs. In response, you wrapped your arms around him too. Well, as much as you could with all that gear on him.

Reluctantly, he let you go, allowing you to look up at him once more before turning to disappear into the darkness. When Simon turned to go on their designated path, he heard a familiar voice snicker in his ear.

Soap was having a little laugh. “Kitten?”

“Can it before I decide to add a new set of bones down here.” He threatened, something that even you heard from down your skull-decorated corridor. 

In the cover of darkness and a faint flashlight, you made your way down the catacombs. At this point, you were completely relying on your map and instincts. The halls never seemed to end. It was so difficult to determine how much further you needed to go as well. Taking a deep breath every step, you moved forward. 

Suddenly, there was a yellow light in the distance. One that casted haunting shadows on the walls. There were voices too. Voices engaged in casual conversation like it was a regular Tuesday night at work. This was it. You were finally close to finding the main center of this operation. 

Hiding in the shadows, you waited for the men to pass before going down the path behind them. More light illuminated the way, ensuring that even Makarov’s men could come back safely. The confidence Makarov had in this secret was amazing. Few guards, a few too many lights, and footsteps standing out on the dirt floor. It didn’t take long for you to figure out the guards’ path pattern either.

You lowered your voice to a whisper, the bobby pin coming in clutch. “Found their hub. Preparing to infiltrate now.”

“Copy that. Ghost and Gaz are in position as well. Keep us updated, Hex.” Price answered back, carefully watching your new dot enter the heart of the operation. Hopefully, if things went well, he was planning on trying to convince to stay with the team as well. You’ve been a good influence on the group. You’ve challenged them to think outside the box, take the time to think about unexpected possibilities, and to rely on the psychological aspects. 

John couldn’t remember the last time they were so close to catching Makarov since his escape from prison. It felt like they’ve been chasing after him for forever. The fact that you were able to get a step ahead of him, something the 141 has failed to do until now, meant a lot. The fact that you were willing to put yourself so close to danger spoke volumes about your character too. 

The team could really use someone like you.

For now, Price would table that conversation for later. He needed you to come back safe first. 

Sneaking around the operation was quite easy for you. The guards were pretty lax in terms of security. With how narrow the catacombs were and how many boxes of weapons they had, you were able to get pretty perfect cover. On your map, you marked down where you were as well as the amount of weapons were down with you. You relayed the information to Price and Soap, them also take note of it on their side.

Everything was going smoothly. Except, there was no sign of Makarov anywhere. Not even a mention of his name from his men. You had a bit more area to explore, but that seemed like a waste of time. There was no evidence in knowing if Makarov would come personally within the next hour or the next week. You were genuinly hoping that it wouldn’t have to come down to this. “No sign of Makarov. No evidence of future arrival. Plan B.”

From Ghost’s position, he and Gaz looked to each other. It looked like they were going to be down there longer than planned. They did have the option to leave and come back later when Makarov does finally arrive, but they would never do that to you. Not after all that you’ve done for them. They were going to stay down here with you for as long as it will take. Ghost confidently spoke into his earpiece. “We’ll be here.”

“Plan B is a go.” Price confirmed, his muscles tensing up more than they were before. Everyone was feeling more tense. They were nervous for you.

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself for what was going to happen. Then, you emerged from the shadows, hands up in surrender. It took a whistle to get someone to notice you. Once someone did, everyone was pointing their guns at you. Questions were yelled out to you in different languages you couldn’t understand. It wasn’t until someone big and burly came over and spoke to you in English that things could get a move on.

“You! Who are you?! How did you come down here?” He growled, his finger hovering over the trigger of his pistol. 

Calmly, you explained yourself, careful not to make any sudden movements. “I’m an assassin. I wish to speak to Makarov for employment.”

“And you infultrate our operation to do so? How do I even know that you aren’t lying to me? Tell me why I shouldn’t kill you now and save everyone the trouble.” He argued, his muscles aching to fill you with bullets. Something about you didn’t seem right to him. However, he couldn’t say that he wasn’t impressed that you had found their operation.

“I consent to a search if it will make you feel better. All I have is a knife in my boot and a twin pistols on my hips in terms of weapons. Take them. I figured that sneaking in like this would catch attention. I’m pretty good at my job. I can be a very valuable asset.” You promised, hands still in the air, not even flinching to defend yourself. 

The men looked between each other, silently trying to decide what to do with you. Their boss gestured to your body, prompting a few men to take your weapons off your person. Paranoia of more was quelled thanks to you wearing tight clothes. “She’s clear.”

“Anyone follow you down?” The boss asked, his tone becoming more relaxed. 

You shook your head and chuckled a little. “I wouldn’t be a very good assassin if there was. Search me for communication tools.”

They were buying your performance, not even realizing that they were taking orders from you like dogs. The 141 listened carefully through your bobby pin, fists clenched as they tried to keep it together. They couldn’t help it. They were protective of you now. 

Ghost heard the shuffle of clothing, imagining how those men have their dirty fucking hands on you for a thorough search. He wanted to storm right through the catacombs to you like a demon from hell to cut their hands off. Doing so would compromise the mission, but it would probably feel worth it. He had to bite his cheek when he heard you hiss.

Someone got a little too handsy with their search, your tone biting as if you really will bite. “Hey! Watch your fucking hands!”

“Just being thorough, girl. Follow me.” The leader finally said, his men ushering you along right behind him. Price and Soap carefully tracked your position, making sure that their map would be able to lead them right to you when the time came as you were unable to update yours. 

You were led to a more open corridor that was divided into sections almost like rooms. In one of them was a small table, two chairs, and a small battery lantern, much like a makeshift interrogation room. You were guided to have a seat, to which you complied. Across from you sat the one in charge around here while a couple of men with rifles manned the exit. The rest dispersed, business as usual. 

“So, you’re telling me that you want to help Makarov. Why?” He questioned carefully, his eyes scanning you for any kind of slip up. Any indication that you weren’t who you said you were. 

You leaned back in your chair casually, arms across your chest. “I’m only interested in going through an interview with Makarov himself.”

He have a mocking laugh, not knowing that he was eating right out of your palm already. “What makes you think he’s gonna come all the way here just to interview you? What do you think this is? A cooperate job? Why do you think you are so special?”

Smirking, you shrugged your shoulders. “I found and broke into this operation, didn’t I? You may have the rest of the world fooled, but if I can waltz right through your skeleton entrance, it won’t be long until your enemies do. You guys need help. I can provide that.”

He raised a brown and stroked his chin in thought, his brain mulling your words over. You had a point. By the time they noticed you, you were already right in the middle of their big secret. There was obviously a loose end somewhere. Makarov wouldn’t be happy with that. Perhaps they could use the support of a skilled assassin.

“What’s your name, girl?” He asked, interest piqued. 

“Don’t have one. Wouldn’t be a good assassin if I did.” You lied effortlessly like it really was the truth. 

A few seconds passed before he finally took the bait. If anything, Makarov would kill you instantly the moment he suspects something wrong. The ghost weapon parts were going to need a final approval too before being shipped out. 

With a heavy sigh, he caved. “Alright, girlie. I’ll leave this business you have with Makarov. You have to stay here, though. Unless told otherwise, you will not leave this room.”

You were left alone in the open room, obeying the order for the sake of the mission. You could hear some sighs of relief from the bobby pin close to your ear hidden within your hair. First part was over. However, that didn’t mean that the hardest part was done with. Things were only going to get more tense from here on out.

You spend hours sitting and doing nothing. You couldn’t even engage in any conversation with the 141. If you weren’t going to die from a bullet, you were going to die from boredom. When the boss of the catacombs operation came back, you nearly sighed in relief. “Makarov will be here within the next twenty-four hours or so. Until then, you are confined here. Good luck, girl.”

After that brief interaction, he left once again, leaving you to wait out even more. No food. No water. Little light. Nothing to do but wait.

The same went for the 141. At least they had each other in closer proximity, though. You, on the other hand, had no one by your immediate side. Hopefully, this would be the last time you would have to be alone like this. 

~

There was no telling if it was still night or day. There was no telling as to how much time has actually passed. Ghost and Gaz had been quite on their end, cutting of communication briefly to avoid you or them being discovered. Soap and Price were silent too, trying to work out final steps on their end. After a certain period of time, you truly felt isolated. This wasn’t like being alone in your cabin. There, you had the sounds of nature surrounding you, books to read, things to do. You could see sunlight and moonlight from your windows. 

Here, there was nothing but bones, dirt, and the tiny light of the lantern. Even the men guarding you decided to turn in for some rest, situating themselves further away from you, but still in close enough range to notice an escape attempt.

A chill ran through you, making you rub your arms with your hands. You were beginning to get tired and hungry. Just as you tried to slip into a cat nap to pass the time, a low voice woke you back up. Hearing it felt like you were being brought back to the land of the living. “Hey, kitten. How are you holding up?”

You didn’t say anything back for a moment, listening for eavesdroppers. Your voice dropped to a whisper so faint that it was like a spirit speaking. “Fine. You sure you want to keep using that nickname right now?”

“I had Price patch us for a private line for a moment. Gaz is sweeping the areas around us. It’s just you and me.” Ghost reassured, grateful to hear your voice like this. He didn’t like you being isolated the way you were. At the very least, he hoped that his voice would provide you with enough company to tie you over for several more hours. 

Your heart felt lighter already just hearing his voice through the pin. Quietly, you go up from the chair to lay on the floor, not caring if you were getting dirt all over yourself. You just needed to stretch your back and legs out. Try to relax as best as you could. “What time is it out there?”

“Nearly noon. It doesn’t feel like it.” He groaned, hardly believing that there was sunlight somewhere himself. It was way too damn dark under Paris.

“Tell me about it. I can’t tell if only a couple minutes have passed or a couple hours. Time seems to stand still down here. The skeletons aren’t helping.” You half-joked, causing Ghost to actually chuckle. The dark sense of humor that you were demonstrating now made him miss you more than he already did. 

A moment of comfortable silence passed between the two of you, both of you feeling more secure in the dark now that you have heard each other’s voices. Yet, an unsettling feeling began to take over your stomach, tying it in knots. “Ghost?”

“Yeah?”

“If anything goes wrong, you’re prepared to say goodbye to me, right?” You shakily breathed out.

The nature of your whisper still nearly knocked the wind right out of him. The way you said it, like it was an absolute, an unavoidable inevitable, scared him. Genuinely. “I won’t let something like that happen. I’m not gonna lose you.”

Suddenly, you bolted up from the floor, ears trained on a sound you heard further down the catacombs. You almost thought that it was just the illusion of darkness getting to you until you heard it again. Faint chatter from afar. A familiar voice that you have only heard through tv speakers. 

“Y/n.” You confessed your real name to him with a heavy heart. 

Simon almost didn’t register it. His heart nearly stopped beating. “What?”

“Y/n. My name is Y/n.” 

Before he could say anything, let alone find the words to say, he heard the chattering too from your end. The voice was undeniable. Quickly, he radioed Price to reestablish the communication lines again. “Captain. It’s Makarov. He’s arrived early.”

You returned to your chair, dusting yourself off just before the man of the hour entered your line of sight. With a sinister smile, he entered your room and took a seat across from you. “It’s not every day that I have someone demand to go through an interview with me. In fact, I never held a formal interview before. Nor took demands from anyone. This better be worth my time.”

“Trust me, Makarov. The information and help I have for you is gonna be worth both of our time. I would be lying if I said that their was something out of this for me too.” You faked a gracious smile, something you weren’t sure was selling it enough.

Thankfully, you had Makarov’s attention. For now. 

“I’m listening.”

-

Taglist:

@eatingtheworldsoffanfiction @dory-98 @cum-tea-and-towels @completelymarveltrash @watersquirtpewpewboomm @thychuvaluswife @sweetheart-im-the-boss @anotherrickinthewall @bluewinter39 @fortunatelydecadentstudent @transparentsheepsheep @rhaenryawhore @randomlyblues @issssawrap @lachimolalaa3 @callsign-pyro @corruptcrybaby @kdadss @lexuria @dookiedanish@horagamu @bitchvxbes @aldis-nuts @hellhavevibes @annyis @lunaryst25 @xheera

[imagine-shenanigans]

hey guys i haven't even had a chance to see atsv yet i just know spoilers and i want this man biblically, i'm talking carnally, i want him in a way that hurts feminism, i want to bring the whole damn movement down so i can be his stupid little housewife and raise his damn kids so i can watch him be happy and then also get railed into losing every brain cell i have

anyway here's some abo headcanons, they include spoilers for the movie/his backstory probably because idk what is and isnt a spoiler because i havent seen it yet.

also this one works a bit differently than my normal layout, it goes SFW and then dips NSFW and ends with more SFW but they're all clearly labeled!

Reader is written gender neutral with they/them and the nsfw section has afab and amab sections, but since I'm Nonbinary and AFAB that's probably how it's gonna come off for most of the reading, just to warn you!

Miguel O'Hara x Reader N/SFW ABO Headcanons

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 5k words

Content Warnings (tell me if I miss any): Dubcon, ABO, Obsessive Behavior, Toxic behavior, Omega reader, Alpha Miguel

For these headcanons we're gonna exist in a weird liminal space where Gabi is like, five to six or so and he brought her home with him or some shit idk man I just think he's a hot single father anwyay, also this is assuming omega reader because i think it's hot

if anyone wants a version where Miguel follows more canon and he still lost his kid and came back you're free to request that too i love that shit, just for this specific one i wanna raise his damn kids so-

SFW

Alpha, big alpha energies.

Miguel is the type of guy who's pretty obsessive with what he claims as his, I would honestly say borderline yandere vibes without fully delving into it - his mental state in this au/situation is also a lot better since he still has his daughter, so he's genuinely a lot less "feral" than he tends to get without her, even though in this we'll say he did almost lose her.

So when he claims someone, he's going to be damn sure he means it.

This ones a bit of a general headcanon but he doesn't really have a type when it comes to the people he likes, other than he needs someone who's interesting to him. Whether it's because you're hotheaded, or even keeled, whether you're snarky or sweet, he just needs something for his brain to latch onto.

Not a love at first sight guy but he is an "obsession I can't place" kind of guy.

Miguel has really enhanced senses when it comes to scenting, so it takes some damn strong suppressants and scent blockers to completely block him out... which if we're pretending reader here is falling with the abo trope of "hiding being an omega" (which we are because I love tropes) is just what gets him obsessed. Clothing and perfume that masks your scent, suppressants and scent blockers, and a confident attitude are all enough to throw most people off the (forgive my pun) scent.

But not Miguel.

His spider DNA has the animalistic side to it that fucks with his hormones regardless, makes it easier for him to pick up on the pheromones that even most attentive alphas can't, he's damn near a personal lie detector with how smart he is and how attuned he is to what his nose and instincts tell him, even when he's using serums to keep the more feral urges at bay.

He can only get a whiff of you, fainter than most betas, and it drives him fucking insane knowing he can smell something but he can't figure it out. He can't place it, and it nags at his brain. He can smell a whiff of flowers, or sugar, or something undeniably citrus (depending on what you headcanon your own smell to be) but he can't place it and he hates that shit.

Ends up pulling some traditional alpha shit and he can't even help it, starts trying to crowd you until you kick him in the shin or Peter B or Jess shoos him away. He has to figure out what it is, he has to know.

It only gets worse when he brings Gabi in (a babysitter fell through) and you end up butting your way in to play with Gabi and Mayday, delighting in watching them for the day instead of whatever you were supposed to be doing. They're both so cute and sweet.

Gabi smells primarily like cinnamon and a bit like dewey grass - she's not old enough to have presented yet, but her basic scent, unaffected by the secondary gender hormones, is simple and sweet, reminds you of a summer morning.

She takes after her father in that regard - Miguel smells *warm* and a bit musky, like trees and cinnamon and, a bit like a camp fire. A small tinge of oil, when you pick it apart, and you can't tell if its from the lingering scent on his skin after fixing a broken machine nobody else could, or if that's part of his natural scent.

(Mayday smells like marshmallows, and carmel, funnily enough)

When you take care of Gabi and Mayday, your scent lingers on their skin, mixes and twists in a way that Peter B can't notice but Miguel can. It's all he can do not to be a damn freak and pick his baby girl up and sniff her hair to try and figure out why she smells like that (not in a creepy way, to clarify because there are some freaks on here, but in the same way a dog gets baffled by smelling you use a new perfume, or in the way of when you pick your kid up and go "WHY DO I SMELL CANDLES ON YOU WHAT WERE YOU DOING")

He almost can't stand how his head swims when he watches you pick Gabi up and gently throw her up in the air a bit, watching you let her climb onto you while you're distracted just like Mayday does. Soothe her tears when she accidentally breaks a toy because she's still learning to control her super strength.

He doesn't know that he wants you either, not until long after he's already manifested feelings. Doesn't realize how protective he is, doesn't realize how differently he treats you. He doesn't realize he's lingering in your area just long enough to make sure he can fill his nose with the faint scent you give off.

He assumes you're a beta - not that it mattered to him, really. Miguel would just as soon marry another alpha as he would a beta or an omega, as long as it's you.

He doesn't realize what he's doing until he's got a piece of your clothing in his hands, holding it in the dead of night up to his nose. A scarf or a glove or a jacket you'd leant to Gabi during the day and she'd spilled her juice on it and he'd taken it home to wash it.

He can smell his daughter's scent, louder than life, so familiar he could have a handful of pepper thrown at him and he'd still be able to wrap his arms around her and move her out of harm's way in the direst of straits.

And then there's yours, linger, mingling with his daughter's scent, and it's the parent of his child.

It's not, it's not the woman who birthed Gabi, it's not the woman who contributed to making her. It's you, the only other person he ever wants near his child in that capacity. And it's intoxicating. It's infuriating. It's overwhelming because the full breadth of his own emotions is so strong as he realizes what he's been doing. And he can't even tell you because he holds himself to a specific standard, a specific code of ethics, and even though he wants to risk it all just so his hindbrain (both alpha and spider and his own human instincts all mingling in one) can have his little loves all wrapped up in his arms, safe where he can protect them.

He only just has the strength to wash the piece of cloth and return it. It takes everything he has not to cling to it, to make a pretty little nest to protect his family in, webs and pillows and fabric, a basis of protection so you can properly make it your own and -

He controls himself, and returns the scarf the next day, leaving it on your desk because he can't bear to look you in the eyes.

The days struggle by, a stark contrast to his normal snark, to lingering in your space and snorting and rolling his eyes. To being by your side more than he normally is. It's disheartening, it makes you feel rejected, and he knows it.

But he doesn't stop, this tension that can cut through the air lingering. Even Gabi and May notice it, the older girl frowning and the younger fussing when the two of you are in the room together.

And then your heat happens.

(brief bullet point break because there's a limit to how much you can have in one bulleted section on tumblr and I don't remember what it is but I'd rather just break here)

You've been on suppressants and scent blockers for years now. Being in your line of work (whether you headcanon this as a spiderperson version of you, or a different kind of superhero, or a civillian all working in the society) it's necessary. Omegas aren't rare but they're not the majority of the population like betas are. In Nueva York, it's a coin toss if you'll be fought over in the streets like some prize to be won, or if you'll be coddled like a child who can't figure out what's best for them.

It's half safety half preference at this point, from your original universe's standard (before it had burnt to cinders before you), and this one's. Your suit, your meds, and your behavior, they're all meant to mask and confuse.

But you can only make it so long on the prescription you've got, the long-lasting shots that were more reliable than a pill. The scent blockers go first - not by design, but by chance. You'd been giving yourself lower doses since you'd wound up in Nueva York, supplementing it with deodorants and lotions swiped from stores and hospitals that could afford to spare the supplies when you can't buy it covertly. But you'd still been low in comparison to your suppressants.

You shower more frequently, lather yourself with soaps and deodorants and lotions of different scents and ones that have blocking effects, and for the most part it works. You can't quite fool Gabi - too smart, too tuned in to your emotions like her father could be. She's got a sharp nose, and she wrinkles it when she can smell how confusing your scent is. She asks questions, and you can't lie your way out of it, but you are able to bribe her so she's distracted long enough that she forgets the question. Miguel notices, when he picks up Gabi, but he can't quite figure out exactly what's wrong, and you leave so fast (he assumes with the tension that lingers between the two of you) that he can't figure it out.

You're so certain you're in the clear.

But then your shots run out, and even you can't get more without a prescription. And while your health information would never go through Miguel, you know that the medispiders have to go through him or Lyla for any heavy duty things like suppressants, because they have to be resourced more carefully.

And your last doctor, although wildly shady, and incompetent, and operating out of an apartment, was right about one thing - suppressants will rot you from the inside out if you're not careful. If you don't let a natural heat occur, it will only be worse in the long run. (Although you suppose he probably had a greasier, grosser reason for telling you that.)

And rot you from the inside they have - all your natural reactions to a heat, all your normal bodily functions don't work properly, when confronted with something they haven't seen in years. You know within seconds of your suppressants flushing out of your system what's going on. You're still in the pre-heat phase of things, and you feel like you're dying. You aren't, and you know you aren't, but you feel nauseous and feverish and incoherent within an hour tops. Only long enough to let you panic and send a text to Miguel that you can't watch Gabi like you'd planned. That you're going out ad you won't be back awhile. You leave your phone in your room, when you pack your bag and head for the nearest somewhat reputable hotel that you can afford. You brace the door with the dresser, explicit instructions left for the front desk to, under no circumstances, contact you for the next week.

You get an order of pre-made meals to slap into the fridge, water and juice and all sorts of drinks and things shoved haphazardly inside once the bot brings it in through the window. You're barely coherent enough to retain control to crush the landline, rendering it inoperable, before you barricade the rest of the room.

You're definitely not in control when you nest, blankets and pillows and clothing all thrown haphazardly around as you go fully out of your gourd.

You're damn well out of your mind by the time you would have normally realized the card you were using was in Miguel's name.

(another very brief line break in this portion for drama but also so I don't hit any limits)

Miguel is pissed when you leave so suddenly.

Sure, he's been avoiding you, and sure, you aren't actually together, but you're his damn it. You don't know it, and sure, he's not going to acknowledge it out loud until something happens, but you can't just leave him and your child and his child who loves you high and dry like that!

It's laughably easy to find you, to find the hotel you've checked into. He doesn't even wait to figure out the reason you left, he's so quick on his honestly kinda toxic bs.

Gabi is left with Peter B and Jess for a bit, and Miguel is honestly so smug that he finds you so fast. You were so sloppy about it. So quick to leave that even though you left your phone behind, in a moment of clarity, you barely bothered to take back streets. You used his own damn card he'd given you to pay for the hotel for two weeks, and to order food.

If he weren't half out of his mind with concern and anger about how quickly you left, he'd be angry you used the card without asking like you normally did.

(His hind brain purrs with it though, knowing he's provided for you)

He doesn't know what did it. Miguel genuinely doesn't know what he did to earn your ire in such a way, but he can guess. He doesn't think it's how cold he was, in the beginning, but he isn't sure that it's not how he'd warmed up to you. How, when he'd let his guard down without realizing it, that he'd flirted with you. Had that made you uncomfortable? Had every 'innocent' brush against you turned you against him? Certainly, it could be his absence, his sudden coolness and stonewalling. It could be how he refused to look at you, when you were in the room. Tried to hold his breath after he'd realized what he was doing.

He doesn't really listen to Lyla when she tries telling him things. He heard where you where, found out the room, and swiped a key before Lyla could finish talking about vital signs and behaviors. She knows to set his alerts to emergency only for the foreseeable future, because she's figured it out much quicker than he has, and she figures she'll at least spare herself the trouble. Gets Gabi set up with Jess for the night, and is on her way so she doesn't have to deal with what's about to go down.

He's surprised by the dresser in front of the door, when he tries to get in the first time. It's easy for him to move - he just lowers his center of gravity and pushes his way into the room, slamming the door shut before he can inhale.

The hotel room is nice, with a kitchenette and a small entry area with a couch and a television. The bedroom is just tucked out of sight. Exactly what he expected when he'd heard the hotel's name - he'd never been, but he recognized it.

And it's when he inhales, that he realizes why.

Your scent hits him hard and fast, chokingly sweet in the back of his throat in a way that makes his hindbrain roar. His pupils blow wide, and if he didn't have such a strong self control, he'd have torn the damn door off its hinges looking for you.

He remembers, in that moment, why he recognized the hotel. It was one that was best known for its handling of customers in heat and rut.

NSFW INTERLUDE

(We're gonna start with general headcanons and go back into the specifics of the scenario in a sec but it's all relevant fjasdkl;)

Miguel is a Dom-leaning switch, he prefers to be in control as often as possible, regardless of whether he's topping or bottoming. Nine times out of ten, he wants to fuck his partner until they're an incoherent, babbling mess, because he enjoys the power and control it gives him, enjoys the dynamic of it.

As he gets more comfortable with a partner, he's more willing to accept the idea of subbing, enjoying it more when he has someone he trusts behind the wheel, so to speak.

(Because yes, Alphas can be subs too - that's a whole thing I could get into and might if someone asks)

And Miguel, even normally, is already a possessive guy. He's needy, and stakes his claim, and when we're talking about abo Miguel?

Sheeeeeesh

The moment he scents you in the air, the moment it clicks in his brain that you're going through a rut or a heat, it goes straight to his dick.

He damn near loses it, fighting not to tear the door off its hinges as he stalks to your room. Your scent is so strong in the air that even though he knows he should turn around, he still at the very least wants to make sure you're okay. So the sight of you, face down, ass up, fingers pressing into yourself, he almost loses his damn mind.

His pretty little wife/husband/spouse coworker, his crush, is an omega. It's almost too good to be true, and he can feel his fucking fangs extend, his mouth watering as he stares at you. You're too blissed out to even realize he's there, slick dripping down your thighs like a fucking faucet... and his name is on your lips.

He could cum untouched, could die a happy, happy man after seeing this.

He has dignity, and self control though, even as the force of your hit heats him. He's genuinely concerned, a moment later, his instinct to breed to claim tampered down by his need to care.

You cling to him, hazy, feverish, and incoherent. You beg him to claim you, to mark you, to fuck you. Miguel wants to, he does... but he instead kicks his shoes off but otherwise stays fully clothed, his cock so hard it hurts as he grabs the closest bottle of water, and an ice pack, and climbs into your haphazard nest with you. He probably should have left by now, but instead he seats you against him, your back pressed to his chest, and he presses the ice pack to your forehead, ordering you to keep it there as he makes you drink water, sip by sip.

You whine, and beg, and squirm, but you obey.

He fucks you on his fingers, once he's gotten some water into you. Hard and fast, leaving you breathless, tense, until you cum all over his fingers, oversensitive as he fingerfucks you into another one, and another, arms like steel wrapped around your waist as one hand pounds into you, the other wrapped around your dick or circling hard on your clit. It's not enough to genuinely sate your heat, but it's enough to help. And he doesn't trust himself to put his own mouth to use - barely trusts himself to speak, even though most of what he growls into your ear is, strictly speaking, complete and utter nonsense as he's caught in the moment. Every time you cum, he praises you, telling you how good you are for it. How sweet you look, with tears streaming down your face, cumming so well for him.

When there's enough coherency for you to have a conversation (but not coherent enough to be mortified), Miguel is able to get the rough gist of the situation. He really can only piece together that the heat is going to be a strong one, that it came fast, and that you had panicked. There's a confession, to be had there. He agrees to help you through your heat, but only under the condition that you're his.

It's toxic, and of dubious consent at best, but he'll pull as many orgasms out of you as needed to keep you coherent enough to talk to him. He's helped an omega through a heat or two, and he knows what he's doing. He's not exactly clearheaded himself, in making the decision - but he does make sure that this is truly what you want before he proceeds.

When he's sure that it's not just the heat speaking, that you truly do care for him, that you want him to stay even after your heat has subsided, he allows himself to indulge.

Sympathy ruts are common, and it builds slowly inside of him as he indulges in his instincts. Holding you, kissing you, pressing his fingers inside of you over and over and over again until you pass out. He keeps you wrapped up in the nest, adding his shirt to the mix while you sleep, but not trusting himself to completely strip quite yet.

Miguel is an attentive alpha.

(While you sleep, he excuses himself from the nest to call his daughter, to assure her everything will be okay, and he just explains simply that you'd gotten sick, that you needed him for a bit, and that he'd be back once you were feeling better. He promises to call every night, and he works out a schedule with Peter B and Jess in the meantime.)

(When you overhear him, voice so soft, so protective, so gentle, it half makes you want to swoon, and half want to climb on his lap and fuck yourself stupid on his cock until he fills you up so you can give his daughter a sibling.)

This man is going to spend a good majority of his time pre-sympathy rut fucking you open on his fingers and his mouth. He wants to make sure you're ready, wants to make sure he can enjoy this for as long as possible.

By the end of it, he makes sure to fuck you, nice and steady, a hand on your throat and his lips on yours. He makes sure you're nice and coherent for it. He wants to make sure you remember it, when he claims you. When his (fucking horse cock, the dude's packing like ten to twelve inches which is great for my chubby bitches like me) dick fills you up so full that you're almost certain you'll break, hiccupping and sobbing as you keen and wail, the nest below you soaked as he fills you up. His fangs sink into your neck and you cum, right then, his hands grabbing your thighs so hard he's sure it will bruise. He fucks you through your orgasm, knot catching until it slips inside. He rubs your clit/tugs on your dick as he finally knots you, making sure you cum just one more time for me, cariño.

normal Miguel definitely has a claiming and breeding kink, so it's fucking intensified by ten when he's omegaverse Miguel... let alone when the man's subject to his rut. You'll be covered in scratches and bites and hickies by the time you're both coherent enough to function properly again.

Which... for Miguel, is a solid few hours of coherency at a time.

For you? You're only ever coherent in short bursts, and it's like the peak of your heat constantly for almost the full week.

This next bit just mostly borders on nsfw/has some nsfw parts so i'll put it at the end here before going back to sfw

Like I mentioned before, Miguel is a very attentive alpha.

He's going to fuck you seven different ways in an hour with his superhuman stamina, but he's also going to make sure to actually take care of you.

He makes sure you drink electrolytes and water in equal measure, makes sure you eat, and sleep, and he bathes you himself, carrying you into the shower and keeping you pressed against him as he massages your muscles and washes your hair and body with a soft cloth, using completely unscented soaps and shampoos so it doesn't overwhelm you. Presses bandages to your scrapes and bites so you'll heal faster. Cool cloths and ice packs and fever reducing medicine.

He finds he has to bribe you, during this time, even for the most basic tasks like eating and drinking, and he would be lying if he said he didn't enjoy having to plug you up with his cock just to get you to eat wasn't hot as hell. The fact that you need him so badly you'd rather forgo basic necessities... it's addicting. Granted, he doesn't actually let you - he's got enough control that he can make sure you're taken care of in all regards.

Back to SFW time!

After your heat itself passes, you're subject to the suppressant sickness that comes with it. Your fever has broken, but you're still nauseous and dizzy and fatigued as your body flushes everything out of your system.

Miguel is beyond pissed when he finds out why you're still sick.

It's reckless to not even have a natural heat once every six months, let alone taking your suppressants so solidly that you hadn't had one in years. If he'd known, he'd have said consequences be damned and would have bitten you the moment he walked through the door, and taken you to the hospital.

He doesn't care how embarrassed you are, when he packs all of your things back up into the sealable bags, and dresses you in his own clothing. He's almost out of his mind when he takes both of you back to HQ - only just remembering to take back corridors to the medic so they can check you over properly.

You've then got two spider people who are pissed, as the medic rants about how dangerous that was, how stupid it was that you did that, instead of just swallowing your pride and letting them help you control things. They order you on house arrest for a full month, to make sure your body can recover properly. No suppressants, no scent blockers (at least the medical kind) for a couple years, and only medicine that's medically necessary, and even then it has to be monitored more carefully.

Miguel lets the Medispider tear you a new one for a moment while he steps into the hallway, giving you privacy and space to figure things out with the doctor while he catches up with Gabi.

When you're done with the Medispider, it's not a question on if you're staying with Miguel or not - you really don't have a choice in the matter, he tells you. When you're recovered, you can decide if you want to move in or not, but until then he was going to personally keep an eye on you.

Gabi, who lacks the complete understanding of the why and the how behind it all, is just glad that the person they've been trying to scheme their father into confessing to is actually going to live with them. (Even if only for about a month.) She grins smugly when she realizes you smell like her dad.

Miguel lets you have pick of the house, when he carries you back to his beautiful, cozy suburban home. He leaves the proper tour up to Gabi, as he carries you both, letting Gabi tell you about everything excitedly. You stay in his bed (you two had claimed each other, and although Miguel does give you the option of your own room... you'd rather die than lose the comfort that comes with being around your mate.)

Miguel cooks properly for you while you stay with him and Gabi.

No more prepackaged meals, he sneers, instead making you chicken noodle soup from scratch, with bone broth and lots of vegetables. Breakfast every morning before he takes Gabi to school, tucks you in to sleep while he pops into the HQ to check on things. He's out of commission from missions while he cares for you, but he still makes sure things go smoothly. He's home by lunch, sometimes bringing you fast food instead of cooking so you can have your fill of a greasy burger or fries or something to sate the part of you that needs something unhealthy and indulgent. Holds you in his lap while you both eat, watching TV on the couch.

He finishes his work and goes on emergency-only mode when it's time to pick up Gabi from school. He tucks you into the passenger seat if you feel up to it, buckling you up himself and pressing a kiss to your lips, even though he doesn't need to. He knows you can buckle yourself up, and lets you do so when you insist, but it makes him happy to know he's taking measures to keep you safe.

He does force you to take a blanket with you, just in case though.

When all three of you get home, he makes dinner, sometimes with Gabi helping him, sometimes you, sometimes just himself. He has a pretty wide range of foods he ends up making, but it's primarily because they're foods he likes, or Gabi likes, and he learned to make them. He's a good cook, overall.

It's the best work-life balance he's had in a long time.

When you're better, he all but begs you to stay.

And god, how could you say no to him?

(Also for those who it matters for, if you do end up pregnant from the Heat Adventures he obviously loves kids and would love one with you, but if you don't feel ready/don't want to have kids other than Gabi, he absolutely respects it, and will talk about options with you. Granted, he'll be disappointed, but at the end of the day it's not something he CAN'T move past. Discusses birth control options with you almost immediately when the two of you get intimate again.)

[nicksbestie]

the bratzfornick 141 writing challenge

hi everyone! we’ve been looking for new fics to read and so many of you are so talented, so what better way to have new reading material than hosting a little challenge to fuel our delusions 😋

here are the basics for the challenge: pick 1 character, pick 4 story elements, and create 1 fic! more details below!!

the following rules are things you must follow. otherwise, you will be eliminated from this challenge. 

no being rude or hateful to other creators. this includes us, as well as others participating in the challenge.

no copying or plagiarizing ANY work. this includes challenge submissions as well as other stories that have been posted to tumblr/wattpad/etc. if you choose to use one of your works from another platform, please make sure that you have proof it is your own work

no submissions that revolve around anything weird or illegal (abuse, incest, illegal age gaps, highly graphic mental illness, hard drugs, age play, homo/transphobia/racism/abelism/etc, bathroom play, etc) 

5k max word limit. in order for us to be able to thoroughly read all of your submissions, please keep your word count to 5k or less and use paragraph breaks!

when you post your fic, please tag @bratzforchris and @nicksbestie and use the tag #bratzfornick’s 141 writing challenge 

characters (pick 1)

matt sturniolo

chris sturniolo

nick sturniolo

nathan doe

story elements (pick any 4): you may mix and match these to your liking. you are not required to do one from all four categories (for example: two locations, one trope, one genre OR two genres, two tropes, etc)

GENRES: 

Fluff

Smut

Angst

Age regression

TROPES:

Friends to lovers

Enemies to lovers

Little x caregiver 

Friends with benefits

Chronically ill x healthy

Mafia x goody two shoes

Academic rivals

Lovers to strangers

Nurse x doctor coworker

Fake dating

Grumpy x sunshine

Royalty x bodyguard

Major character death

Angel x demon

Singer/band member x fan

Arranged marriage

Locations/Settings: 

Alternate universe (AU)

College/university

Concert

Outskirt small town

Big city

The forest/woods

Home

Library/bookstore

Vacation

Haunted/abandoned house

Office

Hospital

Plot Ideas: 

Accidental confession (it slips out when drunk, caught in the heat of the moment, etc)

Revenge (fake dating, sleeping with an ex, etc)

Getting used to a new diagnosis/disability (a doctor who is so used to coaching patients through their new diagnosis that they struggle with theirs, getting used to new dynamics with a partner)

Forced proximity (one bed, locked in a room, etc)

Redemption arc

Taking care of each other (cleaning wounds, cooking, holding the trash can while they’re being sick)

Hiding a big secret

Fight that turns sexy

Language barrier (a Southern partner not understanding Boston slang, an actual language barrier, etc)

Chance encounter

Caught in the rain

Dare 

create 1 fic: please follow the rules, characters, and story elements listed above! as stated before, you do not have to pick from all four story categories, just four total. write as many fics as you’d like for this challenge. 

don’t forget to tag BOTH of us: @bratzforchris and @nicksbestie and use the #bratzfornick’s 141 writing challenge in your submission!

Submissions close May 15th, 2024! Most importantly, have fun! No actual monetary or material prizes will be given out for this challenge→it’s all meant to be fun and creative. Good luck and have fun! We can’t wait to see what you come up with!

[starboybutler]

Sweat (18+)

summary: after a few odd months of living with austin, he and the blonde decide to take their relationship to a whole new level.

word count: 5220

warnings: very brief mention of elvis' death, loss of virginity, outdated thoughts and feelings towards homosexuality, fingering, unprotected anal sex, daddy kink, biting, sub space, elvis slipping into littlespace, aftercare, etc.

notes: this was meant to just be a simple smut fic to piss off people that hate me for writinng gay elvis porn, but i ended up going allllll out. 5k words of smut, feelings, and an au i need fo flesh out. uhh enjoy. also shout out to my beta reader @dontbeecruel and @superbatson for the moodboard 🫶🏽

he felt like he was floating.

he always felt like he was floating when he was with austin. something about the blonde made him feel warm and tingly. it was a mix of things, really– his icy blue eyes, his tousled blonde locks, his soft, full-looking pink lips, his cologne, the deep, honeyed tones of his voice….

elvis found himself questioning a lot of things about himself since he began living with austin. he always knew he liked women, but he never even considered men. mainly because it was taboo then, to be gay, and extremely frowned upon by most people. nearing the 60s and 70s of course, it was starting to get more talked about and acknowledged, but elvis was far too busy at that point. and then he…

…nevermind that. now that he was forced to think about that part of himself, he was overwhelmed. whenever austin would wrap an arm around him, or hug him, or do little things for him- like make his breakfast or buy him something that he liked, his heart would skip a beat. austin seemed so casual about all the affection, like he was used to being this close with another man. elvis had never probed him about his dating history, but he had his suspicions about him being less than straight.

but did he have any room to judge? people have said the same about him. austin always said that his sexuality didn’t matter, and that he’d help him explore it if he wanted. elvis asked what he meant by that, and looking back at that conversation– he didn’t know how he didn’t see that austin was hitting on him.

now, here elvis was, his face all red and sweaty as he laid back on the plush mattress. he's never been this nervous about sex before– but then again he's never had sex with another man before. especially not one this beautiful. sure, when he was younger, he had thought about it in fits of curiosity, but he never went through with it at all.

and now here was austin, shuffling up to him on his knees with a downright predatory look in his eye. his large, cool hands were resting idly on elvis’ knees, holding his thighs apart so he could see all of him. it should have been humiliating, letting another man see the most forbidden parts of himself- but austin made him feel warm. appreciated.

“ready?” the blonde asked in that oddly gentle voice of his, his long middle finger idly tracing lines against his skin as he trailed further down. elvis could only nod stiffly, his body hot and tingling and tense as austin’s hand slowly made its way to the pink skin of his untouched rim.

he felt so ashamed and exposed in that single moment, like he was standing in a crowd of adoring fans completely nude. it was horribly mortifying, but somewhat exciting, oddly. austin made him feel so many things at once– it was dizzying.

elvis let out a whine that could only be described as pathetic. austin paused, and looked at him with an amused expression.

“i haven't even pushed in yet.” he laughed softly, tilting his head.

“shut up!” elvis grunted, draping an arm over his eyes. “god– jus’, get on with it.” he muttered, embarrassed.

austin continued his slow movements, his slick finger rubbing gentle circles around his now slick rim, warming up the once-cold lube. after elvis had relaxed a bit from his gentle ministrations- he slowly pressed his finger inside of his tight heat.

it felt weird, admittedly. his finger was long and cool, gently poking and prodding inside of him. austin felt around, like he was searching methodically for something, making elvis squirm around like a fish out of water.

“q-quit pokin’ around in me–!” he complained, his cheeks reddening, before getting cut off by his own gasp as austin pressed the pad of his finger against an oddly tender spot inside of him.

his pink cock gave a little twitch at the stimulation, a little pearl of precum drooling from the tip of his cock.

“there it is,” the blonde grinned somewhat mischievously, rubbing the pad of his finger against the spot slowly. “feel that? feels good, doesn't it?”

elvis all but whimpered, his thighd twitching as if he didn't know whether he wanted to spread them or close them. “wh-what the hell– what is tha–” he panted, unable to keep speaking as the sensation sent a shockwave of pleasure through his body.

“it’s your prostate,” austin hummed simply. “the male g-spot, basically. don't worry, i won't play with it too much.” he chuckled, rubbing at the spot a few more times before curling the digit. “don’t want you t’cum too quick.”

he thrust his finger deep inside of him, brushing past that sweet spot each time. one finger already had him whining and shaking, so when austin added a second finger…

“f-f-fuck!”

“relax,” austin says soothingly, petting his thigh. “just breathe– i know it's a lot. so sensitive, aren’t you?”

“austin–” the man whined, his face dark red as he let his thighs flop open, his pink cock leaking and twitching against the tense muscles of his tan stomach. “austin, i can’t– what’re you doin’ t’me?” he asked, voiced high-pitched and confused sounding, like he was witnessing some sort of scientific phenomenon for the first time. austin let out a little amused laugh.

“feels good huh?” he mumbles, rhythmically curling his fingers up into the tender spot. “i told you i’d take care of you. and we’re just getting started…”

“f-feels like i’m gonna pee–” he pants, thighs tensing up with each calculated jab against his spot– prostate. he was absolutely bewildered, brain scrambled by the new sensation of intense pleasure boiling low in his belly. he had felt pleasure before, when he jerked off on lonely nights, or when he got some eager roadie to blow him backstage– but it was never this intense. he felt a hot tingle from his head to his toes, a throbbing from the sensitive head of his cock to his taint, and he felt so, so full. he felt like he was gonna die.

his breath exited his chest in a loud, deep exhale as austin suddenly pulled his fingers free, bringing elvis back from the haze of pleasure he was lost in. his head snapped up, his eyes lidded and dazed as he looked up at the blonde.

“what–”

“easy.” austin soothed, petting his thigh while his other hand squeezed the bottle of lube, drizzling it over his hard, leaking cock. elvis’ eyes widened at the sight of it, pink and throbbing between his pale, toned thighs. “i’ll fill you back up soon. so eager for it, huh?”

“i-i–” he pants, mouth hung open dumbly.

“it’s okay. y’don’t have to answer.” austin coos, positioning himself between elvis’ thighs. “i know you need it baby.”

elvis’ world felt like it flipped upside down when he felt the hot, blunt tip of austin’s cock press against his hole. his legs locked around the blonde’s waist, his hands grasping at his biceps tightly just so he could ground himself. he was gonna die, right here, under this specimen of a man.

“relax, e, y’gotta relax for me.” austin purred, the dangerously low tones of his voice like music to elvis’ ears as his large, slender hands massaged at his tense shoulders. “it’s a lot, i know, but ya gotta relax for me, babydoll.”

babydoll. oh god. if that didn’t make him melt like butter, he didn’t know what could. with a little exhale and a flutter of his eyelashes, he let his muscles unwind and relax under the other man, allowing him a more easy entrance when he decided to push in.

he expected austin to proceed with his plan of breaking elvis in, but he just leaned over him slowly, pressing his soft lips to the pulse point of his neck and nipping at the taut skin there. elvis shuddered under him, his hands tightening on his biceps once more.

gently, austin grabbed his slender wrists and pinned them on the mattress beside his head as he continued kissing and biting softly at his neck. the dark-haired man whimpered in the back of his throat, his fingers furling and unfurling in fits of nervousness at the affection. the tip of austin’s cock was still poking at him insistently, rubbing at his slick, sensitive rim with each subtle buck of his slim hips.

“you ready for me?” he whispered lowly, nipping at his earlobe as he pressed more firmly at his entrance. the slight pressure made elvis gasp, his body tensing up slightly at the warmth. he could feel how hard austin was, twitching and leaking against him with need and desire, his hot breath picking up against elvis’ tan skin the more he ground against him. the thought that austin was losing his usually calm, collected demeanor due to his raw, carnal need for him was driving elvis insane. he did this to austin. he made him lose his cool. he made him want to become something wild– something feral, almost. the thought of his need for elvis consuming him and turning him into some kind of needy, possessive, demanding beast was so arousing to him for a reason he couldn’t pinpoint.

“uh huh,” elvis panted, already flushed and breathless as he stared up at the blonde. “i’m ready, austin.”

“okay,” the blonde exhaled, pressing his hips forward. “lemme know if it hurts, okay?”

“mhm,”

he began inching himself in. elvis hissed at the stretch immediately. austin was big. he had seen his cock before– and he knew he was large, but

feeling it press inside of him was giving him an idea of how big his cock truly was. the warm, throbbing length of him was making elvis’ head spin with pleasure and a little bit of pain from the sting. austin’s eyes were scrunched shut in what looked like concentration, but he couldn’t be sure. maybe he was trying to hold himself back from plunging into elvis immediately– or he was adjusting to the tight squeeze of his virgin hole. either way, he looked fucking gorgeous. his plump, pink lips were dropped open, sweat dripping down his flushed, pink face as his chest heaved with labored breaths.

elvis felt like he was on fire. the stretch, the friction, the warmth of their bodies slotted together so closely…he might just burn alive. he didn’t know if he could handle anymore of austin inside of him. he hardly had the head in, and he already felt stretched to his max. austin must have sensed or felt this, because he paused and sat still inside of him. elvis was panting heavily, gripping the bed sheets and trembling softly.

“a-a-a-aust–” he whined, his voice sounding foreign to his own ears as he spoke, wrecked and needy and breathless as austin’s eyes opened and gazed down at his face. “you’re s-s-s-so big, it’s– i can’t– it won’t fit–”

“it’ll fit,” he panted, petting at his side soothingly, like he was a dog, as he began to press into him again.

he felt so full, like he would explode if austin pressed into him anymore. he didn’t even think he could fit a finger inside of him before this– so for austin to be halfway inside of him seemed like a miracle in itself. he genuinely felt like he was going to explode with everything happening at the moment. austin’s shaft was putting an obscene amount of pressure on his prostate, making an odd heat climb up his abdomen.

“almost there, e,” austin breathed, voice strained and breathy as he leaned down and pressed his forehead to elvis’. “almost in ya. can y’feel it? feel how deep i am inside?”

“yes,” elvis choked out, tears pricking the corners of his eyes as his thick, leaking cock twitched needily against his soft stomach. “i-i dunno if i can take it all–” he whimpered, clenching around austin’s thick, straining cock. “but i want to– so bad, austin- please,”

“you can. look, i’m almost there. jus’ breathe– fuck, goddamn, you’re so fuckin’ tight, e. good boy, gorgeous boy wrapped so pretty around my cock. goddamn,” he grit out, panting.

he was making austin feel good. the thought and realization made him tremble and whine in the back of his throat as he rolled his hips down against austin’s, shifting his throbbing length inside of him.

“fuck–!” the blonde grunted, his hands flying to elvis’ hips and gripping at them tightly, biting his lip as they ground together sloppily. “goddamn, e, you– fuck, you need it bad, huh baby?”

elvis couldn’t even respond. the friction inside of him was melting his brain, rendering him completely speechless. he just grabbed at the bedsheets and rolled his hips, chasing that feeling he got deep in his belly whenever the head of austin’s cock rubbed against that oddly tender spot deep inside of him. the whole ordeal was oddly hypnotic– up and down and up and down and oh god he was gonna cum if he wasn’t careful.

“gonna cum,” he managed to brokenly choke out, his hips stuttering in their languid movements against austin. “f-fuck– please, ‘m already gon’--”

to his displeasure, or his relief, austin halted his hips. elvis was trembling, his whole body tingling and on fire from head to toe after having his orgasm ripped away from him so abruptly. austin was quick to make him feel good in other ways though, leaning down and using his plump lips to mouth and bite at his neck and jaw. he traced just under his neck, before latching onto a particularly sensitive spot and suckling harshly.

elvis had never been bitten before. he had always done the biting. the sting, the warmth of their mouth, the suction– it was all so amazing. when austin pulled away to look at his work, elvis whined and let his head fall back to expose more of his neck.

“again,” elvis begged, his voice unsteady.

austin kissed at his tense, straining neck again, nipping at his collarbones and the column of his throat before biting down once more. elvis’ hips stuttered again, shifting austin’s length inside of him once more. both men hissed, and little elvis gave a pathetic little spasm against their stomachs.

“ready for me to start movin’?” austin panted, hips twitching ever so slightly against elvis. “ready for me to fuck you?”

“uh huh,” elvis gasped, his face red and eyes lidded as he stared up at the blonde, who looked equally as disheveled as he did. “r-r-ready.”

he thought that he had a good idea of what was coming next, given their sloppy grinding together a few minutes prior. he expected to feel something similar– and he’d be ready this time– but no. when austin began to pull out of him, his entire body tensed up involuntarily. austin soothed him with gentle rubs on his side, making him relax ever so slightly– but all that tension came back when he was filled back up.

lord, it felt good. austin was going slow, so so slow, and yet elvis felt as if he were being dipped in a pool of hot magma with each drag of austin’s cock against his walls. he must have made a noise, or done something, because austin paused in his movements.

“too much?” he questioned, stroking elvis’ cheek gently and watching as the man below him panted and writhed, his muscles tensing rhythmically. “tell me if i need to slow down. i don’t wanna hurt you.”

“it feels– so good,” elvis sobs, his breath hitching and chest spasming with each frantic breath he took. he’s never felt like this in his life– he felt like he was melting and floating all at the same time– his body simultaneously limp and tense and hot and cold and and and– all he could see and feel was austin. he needed him– badly. “aus,”

his tone of voice got higher, tears spilling from his eyes as he stared up at the blonde angel. what would he do without him? he’d be so so lost, he’d probably be all alone, in some big scary town, not knowing what anything is. he was so grateful for austin taking care of him, even when he was being a damn idiot. he loved him. he needed him.

“e? hey, it’s okay, don’t cry.” austin purred, wiping away the hot trails of tears with his thumbs. “do we need to stop? is this too much? i’m sorry, i probably should have explained more about what it’d feel like– i’m so sorry e. let’s go bathe, hm?”

austin moved to pull free, but elvis managed to wrap his legs around austin’s slender waist. austin paused and hissed, looking down at elvis in a mix of shock and arousal.

“don’ go.” elvis sniffled. “need you. l-love you.” he stuttered, voice crackling and breathy as he pressed his wet, tear stained face into austin’s neck. “m-make me cum, please,”

austin hummed deep in his chest, low and possessive as he began his shallow thrusts once more. their quick, frantic little breaths mingled together, filling the air along with the sounds of skin on skin rhythmically smacking together with each thrust.

it was almost unbearable. elvis dug the ends of his blunt manicured nails into austin’s back and clawed down, leaving angry red scars in their wake. the small action made austin buck his hips up, hissing lowly and kissing at the shell of elvis’ ear.

“baby, keep doin’ that and i won’t last long,” austin warned, hips picking up in speed as elvis did his best to roll his hips back onto austin’s cock, all but throwing himself onto the other man.

his chest heaved and stomach spasmed as he fell victim to the sensation, his own cries silent to his ears, but he’s sure he was wailing and gasping something awful as austin sped up his hips.

the bed was creaking and bouncing, the headboard smacking against the wall with each powerful thrust of austin’s hips.

poor little elvis was weeping against his stomach, throbbing and red with neglect as he let his thighs relax in an attempt to stop squeezing the life out of austin. he wanted to stroke his cock– to at least touch it– but with all the sensations going on he didn’t know what would happen if he did.

the blonde must have felt elvis’ hands twitching on his back, or he must have sensed it, because his long, nimble fingers moved from gripping the bed sheets to grazing elvis’ tender erection.

“fuck!” elvis all but yelled, trembling like a leaf in the wind as austin continued to graze his poor neglected member with the pads of his fingers. it was too much, but not enough, and oh god he was gonna–

“hold on baby,” austin grunted, his thrusts becoming more shallow as he gently gripped elvis’ cock in his hand. “i’m sorry, been neglectin’ poor little elvis, haven’t i?” he croons, squeezing the poor pink little thing in his palm. “you needs it bad, huh?”

“y-yes–” elvis sobs, his cock drooling and spasming, confused and tortured by the way austin was able to tear his orgasm away from him with just a few simple movements. he was teetering on the edge of an amazing, mind altering orgasm, but austin would change the speed of his thrusts, or stop his teasing touches against his needy cock, tearing his ecstacy away from him once more. his brain felt all fuzzy and warm, like he was falling into some kind of daze. “n-needs it real bad, aus, needs it–”

“its okay baby, i’ll give it to ya,” he promises, kissing his jaw sweetly and speeding up his hips once more. “i’ll let my little baby cum, give him that nice feelin’ in his tummy. that what you want?”

elvis could only nod weakly. then, it hit him that austin knew exactly how to press his buttons– and that’s exactly what he was doing. the baby-talk, the teasing, the praise– he was toying with elvis, making him come closer to the edge of his orgasm and ripping it away like an owner playing with his cat. he was evil. absolutely evil.

“p-please, austin– d-daddy,” elvis stammered, his hand coming up to his chest and scratching at the tanned flesh almost desperately. “n-n-need t’cum, n-n-need– i need it, please lemme have it, i’ve b-be-en so good,”

“i know, i know you have.” austin said breathlessly, his cock spasming within elvis. “i jus’ want you to hold on a lil longer baby, j-jus’ a lil more for daddy. we’re gon’ cum together, okay? jus’ wait for daddy–”

“i can’t, i can’t wait–” elvis cries, his voice climbing higher in pitch as his body decides he can’t handle the sensations assaulting him anymore. the feeling of austin’s cock stabbing into his prostate, his limber hands squeezing his sensitive cock, the way his skin is so so warm against his– it’s all too much.

little elvis jerks in austin’s palm, his cockhead squirting out thick, milky ropes of spend against both of their chests and stomachs thickly. he’s never cum so much– it didn’t seem to want to stop shooting out of him.

more spend was urged from him with each demanding thrust against his prostate and pull of austin’s hand, prolonging his sinful high for more than he could handle. when he started coming down, he was immediately overwhelmed by it all.

“oh– w-w-wai-”

“almost there,” austin grit out, and the way his eyes were scrunched shut, body wound tight seemed to prove it. “gonna cum, babydoll, gonna fill you up nice and good–”

“a-a-a-austin–!”

then, a hot, wet warmth, like nothing he’s ever felt, filled him to what felt like the brim. a hot little streak of it even dribbled out of him, and pooled onto the bed sheets below.

austin’s twitching cock was still stimulating him within, making elvis whine and sob as his cock gave another little twitch, cum bubbling out of his slit in weak little spurts. austin was too caught up in his own haze of pleasure to notice elvis’ second orgasm– opting to press his plush, bitten lips against elvis’ in a fit of desperation. the older man had to tap for mercy when austin started doing quick little aborted thrusts– fucking him like he was a bunny– making his whole body feel like it was on fire.

“e-enough–enough–!” he gasped, his mouth agape as he pulled away from the kiss, begging for austin to still his hips. “c-can’t take n’more, c-can’t–”

the blonde halted immediately, his breath heavy and labored as he stared down at elvis. he was an absolute mess. his hair and face were damp, his cheeks a deep, embarrassed red. his chest and stomach were filthy with his own spend, as well as sweat and precum. it was a sight to behold. if austin really wanted to, he could get his phone and take a million pictures– but he wouldn’t embarrass him like that.

“you okay?” he questioned breathlessly, eyes lidded and pupils blown as he stared down at the disheveled, sweaty man beneath him. “you hurtin’? sore? did i bite you too hard?”

elvis shook his head weakly, his voice failing him. he just stretched out his arms, making weak little grabby hands at austin. the blonde laughed, pulling elvis into his arms and rubbing his large hands up and down his back soothingly. “oh, okay baby. let’s get in the tub, yeah? how’s that sound?”

elvis just nodded weakly, his world nothing but a warm, blurry haze in his eyes at the moment. austin hoisted him into his arms with ease, and elvis wrapped his legs around austin’s slim waist on instinct. he laid on his shoulder limply, swaying with the gentle movement of each step austin took. the whole situation felt oddly nostalgic, honestly. elvis, dazed or inebriated, resting on someone’s shoulder or lap as they soothed him like he was a child that had scraped their knee.

ever since he had come to modern times, he had seen every little comment made about him. how he was nothing but a no good man who loved to take advantage of girls by acting like he was a child, making them pity him. except it wasn’t an act. sometimes, elvis just…acted that way. he always heard that people took care of one another in relationships, but whenever he expressed the need to be taken care of, he was labeled as weird. maybe most men wouldn’t baby talk, or refer to themselves as a ‘little one’, or any of that, but so what? that didn’t make him bad, did it?

he was jerked out of his mind as he was placed in warm, bubbly water. the warm, moist air smelled like lavender and cherries. he let out an involuntary purr as he settled into the water, letting himself relax and melt into the warmth. he heard a rustle behind him, and felt a familiar warmth.

“hey baby.”

“hi,” elvis said meekly, shame washing over him as he remembered everything he had done in the bed. maybe people were right to think he was weird. he idly swished his hands in the water to distract himself from the thought.

“how you feel? down there, i mean,” austin clarified, eyes darting down.

“fine,” the older man mumbled, avoiding eye contact with austin out of shame. “just…stings a little.”

it went quiet, save for the steady running of the faucet into the tub. elvis had found a particularly interesting cluster of foam bubbles, shaping them into funny shapes with his hands. austin’s eyes were still trained on him, but he couldn’t bring himself to look at him. not after all that.

“elvis,” the low, seductive tones of austin’s voice sliced through the thick silence like a hot knife. “do you remember what happened in bed? like, all of it?”

“mhm.”

“you called me daddy,” he supplied helpfully, making elvis visibly prickle at the reminder. “y’wanna talk about that?”

“no,” elvis hissed, his cheeks flushing darkly in shame. “it was a slip up, that’s it.”

“e, baby, please talk to me.” austin begged, gently grabbing and holding his hand that was fiddling with the suds around them. “i’m not here to judge, baby. i jus’ wanna know what’s going on.”

elvis went quiet, enjoying how his hand kind of felt small in austin’s. he really didn’t have an answer, if he was being honest. it really was a slip up, from somewhere deep in his mind. austin was just talking to him in that tone he uses– like when he’s talking to a younger fan or a dog. “you were taking good care of me.” elvis blurted out before he could stop himself. “i-i…really liked that.”

austin’s kind gaze didn’t falter. he held onto elvis’ hand tighter, grazing over his knuckles with the pad of his thumb rhythmically. “well then, i guess i shouldn’t stop, huh?” he smiles, bringing a wet hand to elvis’ matted locks. “turn around baby. let’s give your hair a good wash.”

“aus, you don’t gotta–” he protested, but his words died on his tongue as austin’s nimble fingers began massaging at his scalp gently, wetting it thoroughly. then, he drizzled some honey-scented shampoo onto his head. it smelled like him.

austin began scratching at his scalp all over, humming a little tune to himself as he watched the shampoo turn into foamy suds. all the attention was making elvis hot and bothered. he didn’t want to admit it to himself, but he really liked austin’s hands. those nimble, warm, large hands of his always made him feel some type of way. feeling them roam his sensitive scalp, massaging him…

“you okay?” the blonde asked, head tilted in curiosity as he slowed his movements. “you’re squirmin’ a lot. you sure i didn’t hurt you?”

“i’m sure,” elvis mumbles, face flushed as he presses his thighs together. “jus’....got excited again.” he admits, embarrassed. “sorry.”

“oh,” austin hums. “want me to…”

“no way,” the older man huffs. “i’m so goddamn tired, another orgasm would probably kill me.”

austin chuckles in that low, delightful way of his, continuing his gentle massage and lathering of elvis’ scalp. “okay. just relax then.”

he allows himself to lean back onto austin, closing his eyes and humming lowly to himself. the warmth of the blonde’s bare chest against his back was so comforting to him. he noticed that they were almost in sync whenever they took a breath, the rise and fall almost lulling him to sleep.

“c’mon, wake up sleepy head.” austin teased, nudging him with his bare shoulder. “gotta dry you off before we climb into bed.”

“wha?” elvis hums, his eyes lidded and droopy as he groggily sits up, blinking rapidly. “oh, yeah. ‘mkay,”

elvis stood, rubbing his eyes with wet hands and yawning loudly, humming in his chest as austin began drying him off with a warm towel. he focussed on his thick, wet hair, mussing it about and patting it dry as he smiled at elvis softly.

that warm, fuzzy feeling was engulfing him again. he felt so small in this moment, sitting naked and damp on a counter and letting another person dress him, and dote on him. it was a strangely nice sensation. he complied with austin as the blonde lifted his arms to better dry him off and slide his arms into a fuzzy, warm robe, adding onto that haziness he felt.

as austin tied up the front, the soft fabric rubbed against his soft cock gently and made him squirm around bashfully as austin cooed to him.

“hey now, what’s all this squirmin’ about?”

“th’ robe.” elvis mumbles, gently taking austin’s outstretched hand and leaning onto him as they walk towards the bed. “it’s…rubbin’ on me.”

“does it feel nice?”

“mhm.” elvis admits, blushing softly. “feels nice. but ‘m tired, papa.”

austin smiles gently and guides him to lay down, wrapping his arms around his slim waist and pulling him into his chest gently. “yeah? well, if you’re good, daddy will let you cum tomorrow, okay?”

“t-tomorrow?” elvis asked in a bit of a daze, pressing his nose into austin’s chest sleepily. “w-we’re gonna play again t’morrow?” he inquired, his voice high and hopeful as he gazed up at the blonde through his eyelashes.

“of course, baby.” austin smiles, pressing his nose into elvis’ still damp locks, smiling and rubbing his back softly. “that’s what daddy’s do. they take care of their babies. play with them and make them feel all nice and fuzzy. you like when i do that, right?”

“uh huh,” elvis mumbles, his eyes beginning to drift closed. “you’re a good daddy. the best.”

“thank you prince. you get some rest, now. we’re gonna play a lot more tomorrow. want you to he nice and rested for that, okay?” austin purrs, hugging him tightly and kissing his scalp. “love you, pretty prince.”

“mm…daddy..” elvis drawled, his vision fading into a pleasant, warm darkness, his head full of nothing but austin’s deep, warm voice and steady heartbeat. “love you too.”

[hannahbarberra162]

Who the Deuce?

Hi! It's my first canon x canon attempt! It was harder than expected. I have many more Deuce Thoughts (tm) that didn't make it here.

Beta'd by the amazing @maskeddeucelover thank you for all your work!

Ace X Deuce, angst and fluff, no smut.

Word count: ~5k

AU where Deuce begins his writing career while with the Spade Pirates and continues when they join the WBP. He is a published travel / adventure columnist with a regular column in the WENP.

Overview: Ace won’t put a label on his relationship with Deuce. He wants to keep their relationship non-exclusive, to Deuce’s chagrin. Deuce begins getting recognized as a rising star in the writing world, and taken on dates by attractive fans. Can Ace tame his jealousy and reclaim his lover? Or has Deuce finally moved on? 

~~~

DEUCE POV

Deuce sighed as he felt overly warm arms embrace him from behind, wrapping around his waist as he finished rolling up clean bandages. He knew it was Ace, seeking comfort and connection at the end of a long day. Deuce quickly calculated how much work he had left in the infirmary, since it was obvious Ace was done for the day.

“Hi, Ace,” Deuce greeted tiredly. 

“Mmmmphhh,” Ace didn’t reply with words, just buried his face into Deuce’s neck. The nuzzling felt pleasant, but Deuce had to remind himself that it didn’t come with anything deeper. He and Ace had been fighting recently over their relationship. Or rather, the lack thereof. Deuce wanted to make things official and be exclusive with one another. On the other hand, Ace wanted to keep things as they were, nothing defined and a more open relationship. It made Deuce feel that Ace was just stringing him along until Ace found someone better. Ace felt that they should keep their options open during their high seas adventures, while also casually enjoying each other’s company. Neither opinion was wrong, but they were at an impasse. 

Deuce had been thinking of breaking things off completely. He didn’t like seeing his partner with other people, it just hurt him. He didn’t feel inclined towards dating others either, so maybe it would be best to part ways before he got hurt even further. A few years prior, he would have taken anything Ace had offered at the expense of his own heart. But he’d grown a little and was prepared to suffer heartbreak now if it would hurt less in the long run. 

“Ace, don’t.”

“But I’m worn out. I wanna cuddle.” Ace started peppering wet kisses on Deuce’s neck. Deuce had to decide, and quickly, what he wanted to do. He could tell Ace to stop right now and reignite the argument they’d been having, or he could enjoy the moment. He looked behind and saw Ace’s sweet freckled face. His choice was made. He could never deny Ace for long, his love for his former Captain was too strong. So even though it hurt him, he’d allow it. For one more night.

“C’mon, let’s go to my room,” Deuce offered. Ace smiled and threw Deuce over his shoulder, carrying him off to Deuce’s (much cleaner) room.

~~~

A few days later, the Moby anchored near a large island to restock supplies. Marco had granted Deuce shore leave after their work was complete, which was an exciting prospect. Deu wanted to get a copy of the latest newspaper and see his travel column in print. Ace, being a Commander, didn’t have to ask permission from anyone, so they made plans to explore the island together. After meeting up on the island, they set off to get the feel for the island. At first, it felt like old times, just the two of them investigating somewhere new. They walked around the island a bit, and found a restaurant that seemed like it would have an adequate supply of meat to keep Ace full.

Deuce was enjoying some quality time talking with Ace - while he ate plate after plate. Ace was telling Deuce about some rare variety of beetle he wanted to look for on the island. Deuce had heard a lot about Ace’s brother Luffy, including his love of insects and beetles in particular. It was endearing to Deuce that Ace continued to look for the ugly bugs as a way to maintain connection with his sibling. He enjoyed hearing about the local flora and fauna of islands and sometimes included Ace’s tidbits in his writing.

But like always, someone recognized Ace from his posters and wanted to talk to the handsome outlaw. And Ace, like always, responded and began a conversation with the stranger. Deuce sat at the table, feeling shunted off to the side as Ace began telling stories of being a Whitebeard Commander. He listened in silence for some time before he decided to leave and find a newspaper. At least he would meet one of his goals for shore leave. By that time, Ace had gathered a small crowd of adoring women - and a few men - who were hanging on his every word. Deuce cast one last glance at his love, who already had his arm over the shoulders of some woman, and left.

Deuce decided his best bet to find a recent paper would be in a bookstore. He could also pick up a few novels to entertain himself, since he had a feeling Ace wasn’t going to be available for the rest of the afternoon. Stewing in his own thoughts, he walked back towards the bookstore they had passed in their quest for a restaurant. Deuce entered the shop and went to look for the periodicals. 

Quickly finding what he needed, he looked for the most recent issue of the World Economy News Paper. Scanning through the pages, he found his article and skimmed through it. He was disappointed but not surprised it had been edited. He was thinking of comments to send to Morgan about the next one when he felt a tap on his shoulder. 

“Excuse me, I hope I’m not bothering you. May I ask you a question?” An attractive young man stood next to Deuce, awaiting his response.

“If you’re looking for Ace, he’s at the restaurant down the street.” Deuce answered, looking back down at the paper. He had answered this question many times before, on many different islands.

The man tilted his head to the side, looking slightly confused. “I’m sorry, I’m not looking for an Ace.” Deuce looked up once more and gave the man his attention as he continued. “I couldn’t help but overhear in the restaurant that your name is Deuce. I know this is a long-shot, but are you the author of the travel column in the WENP?”

Deuce’s eyes opened wide. He’d never heard his column referenced…well, ever. No one talked about his writing with him, not even on the Moby. It might endanger his column if his readership found out he was a pirate on a Yonko crew, but he wanted to know why the man was asking.

“Ah, yes, actually. That’s me. May I ask why?” The man positively beamed at Deuce.

“Why? Why? You’re the most popular columnist in the newspaper! Everyone reads your articles before the rest of the paper! I can’t believe you are here on our terrible island! Are you going to write about it? Oh, I can’t wait to read what you have to say. I hope you rip this shithole to shreds!” The man was gushing at Deuce, who took a step back at the emphatic statements being declared by the stranger. The man realized his error and looked sheepish.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t bother you when you’re such a busy person. I’m just a huge fan. I’ll leave you alone now.” The man bowed his head slightly, turning his body to leave.

Deuce waved off the man’s comment, and replied with a kind smile “no, no, it’s OK. I’m simply surprised. No one has ever recognized me before.”

“I’m Raoul,” the man said, sticking out his hand. “My friends and I are all obsessed with your writing. Well, everyone is, but us in particular. We read everything you publish. And oh my god, I’m fangirling again. I’m sorry, Deuce.” Raoul was blushing, a cute look for him. 

Deuce laughed lightly, and replied “I don’t mind at all, it’s nice to hear that someone out there is reading it. You’ve made my day. And you can call me Deu.”

Raoul took a deep breath, and said “I hope this isn’t too forward, but I’d really like to make your night too. Would you like to come out on a date with me tonight? I’m sure you’re busy, but I know I’d regret it for the rest of my life if I didn’t ask.”

Deuce looked at Raoul, who was watching him with hope in his eyes. Deuce hadn’t felt so wanted in a long time. He thought about Ace, flirting and whatever else, right down the street. Well, Deuce didn’t have to wait around for Ace. He could live his life and enjoy it on his own terms, just like Ace wanted them to.

“I’d love nothing more, Raoul. Pick a place and time and I can meet you there.”

Deuce and Raoul coordinated plans for a date later that night and parted ways. Deuce covertly saw him skipping down the street in excitement. Heart lighter, Deuce paid for his newspaper and left the store with a grin. 

A few hours later, as he was sitting and reading at a cafe, Ace slumped into the seat across from Deuce. He leaned back, stretching his arms behind his head, and put his hat over his eyes. It looked like he’d tried to wipe lipstick off his face, somewhat successfully. Deuce ignored him.

“Whew, I thought I’d never get away from there! People, man. They just wanted to hear more and more. Had to run away to find you.”

Deuce hummed but didn’t reply, continuing to read. Ace was undeterred. 

“Anyway, some of the guys are going to the local pub in a bit. Do you want to join? I’m gonna. I think it could be a fun time.” 

“Oh, I can’t. I have a date,” replied Deuce casually.

Ace immediately sat up and leaned forward in his chair, putting his hat back on his head. “A date?! With who?”

“With Raoul.”

“Who’s Raoul?!”

“A fan. We’re meeting up soon actually, I should get going.”

“Your fan? Fan of what? And you don’t know him - what if he’s from another crew? What if it’s a trap and he’s a bounty hunter? This is a bad idea.” Ace had his arms crossed across his tan chest, drumming his fingers against his arm.

“He’s a fan of my writing. I can protect myself. I’m going. See you later, Ace.” With that, Deuce finished the last sip of the coffee in his mug, folded the newspaper, tucked it under his arm and left. It took everything in him not to turn around and see the look of jealousy he knew was on Ace’s face. He could feel the waves of heat coming off of Ace, but that wasn’t his problem. After all, Ace was emphatically not his boyfriend. 

~~~

Deuce spent a perfectly wonderful evening with Raoul. They dined, had a few drinks, and engaged in thought provoking conversation. Deuce enjoyed his time on the Moby, but he would be lying if he said he was always intellectually stimulated. Sure, he could talk to Marco, but the first Commander was usually busy and preferred medical literature over everything else. Deuce had dropped out of medical school for a reason - he didn’t want to spend his free time talking about viruses of the Grand Line. There were many other intelligent crewmates to talk to, but he seemed to be the only one interested in writing. 

Talking to Raoul was like entering another world. A world in which he wasn’t a pirate, wasn’t a former first mate, wasn’t a healthcare provider, but a journalist. The way Raoul described his columns made Deuce feel fulfilled in a way that he had been searching for his whole life. He wanted to know that people read his work, that they enjoyed it, that they found entertainment or solace in his words. That was what made his heart sing, not fighting or drinking. Deuce didn’t care how many readers he had, just that someone out there was reading what he wrote. 

It felt strange to be on a date with someone new - the overwhelming majority of Deuce’s romantic experience had been with Ace. He would be lying if he said he didn’t think about Ace during the date. With Ace, he was always the secondary to Ace’s primary. Ace led them on adventures, and Deuce followed. Ace found places to go, and Deuce joined along. He had even taken his nom de plume as a nod to Ace’s name, erasing his own identity to match his lover’s. Their dynamic usually worked well, with both men filling roles they enjoyed. Ace never treated Deuce like he was lesser, but being out with Raoul made Deuce realize he did carry some resentment towards his former Captain.

With Raoul, Deuce was his own complete person, not defined in relation to someone else. It was boosting his self esteem to be taken seriously as a man of words, something he found himself enjoying. He didn’t know if it was Raoul personally that was causing the feeling, or just the fact that someone was as full of admiration for him - maybe as much as he had for Ace. With that thought, Deuce realized he’d been ruminating on Ace for too long, and focused his mind on enjoying the present. The night went by quickly, and they talked until the restaurant informed them they were closing.

Deuce and Raoul finished their meal and started walking in the moonlight, hand in hand. Deuce walked Raoul back to his house, and was invited in. He thought about it, but gracefully declined. He did, however, take the opportunity to kiss Raoul. Raoul asked if Deuce would be around the following day, and they made plans for another date. After a final goodnight kiss, Deuce left his eager fan.

It was nice, thought Deuce. Kissing someone new was nice. It wasn’t electrifying, or exhilarating, or intoxicating like kissing Ace was. It didn’t consume him whole, leaving him lost in a haze of desire. It didn’t overwhelm his senses until there was nothing in the world except Ace’s lips on his own. It was just nice. He supposed that was good enough for now.

~~~

Heading back towards town, he wanted to see if everyone was still at the bar, drinking. He found the pub and heard familiar voices coming from the inside. He entered and saw his friends carousing together. Joining the fray, he ordered a beer and sat with the others. Apparently, news of his romantic outing had made the rounds, and several crew members asked him about it. Noticeably absent was Ace, who was giving him the stink eye from across the bar. Ignoring the Commander, Deuce shared information about his enjoyable night, including the invitation for another the following day. He drank a few more beers with his comrades, and decided to head back to the boat for the night. 

On his walk back, he heard running footsteps catching up with him. He sighed - he knew where this was headed.

“How was your date?” Ace spat at him.

“Lovely. Have another tomorrow.” 

“With Raoul?” Ace spat. Ace was being childish and Deu had no patience for it. Deuce gave him a cold look.

“Not really your business.” Deuce wasn’t going to engage in Ace’s jealousy and insecurity. He had set the rules for their non-relationship, not Deuce. Ace couldn’t eat his cake and have it too. Ace was fuming but didn’t say anything else. They parted ways once they were on the ship, still not talking. It was hard - something in Deuce wanted to apologize, even though he had nothing to apologize for. One day at a time.

~~~

The next day, Deuce went back to the island to meet up with Raoul. This time, Raoul had brought his friends, all of whom were excited to meet him. They raved about his writing, his wit, his creativity, and his ability to make or break the reputations of islands with a slash of his pen. They had copies of his columns, which they wanted him to autograph. It was overwhelming, but also quite fun. Some of them were aspiring authors themselves, and begged Deuce to edit and make suggestions on their pieces. Deuce felt a little dazed by all the attention, he wasn’t normally one to favor the spotlight. Raoul’s friends left after a few hours, leaving the two men for their second date. Deuce enjoyed his evening, and this time did accept the offer to continue his conversation with Raoul in his home. He did not return to the ship that night - for the first time since he became a Whitebeard Pirate.

Early the next morning, Deuce left a sleeping Raoul and made his way back. The Moby was leaving soon, and he needed to be on it. The two had parted on good terms, with Raoul promising to save every one of his columns in case Deuce ever wanted them. As the dinghy he was on made its way back to the Moby, he heard Ace yelling. Not a great sign, he thought to himself. He was guessing Ace was also on fire, though he couldn’t see it.

“....CAPTURED BY MARINES!? HOW DO YOU KNOW?” 

Deuce heard Marco reply calmly to Ace’s outburst. “I don’t think he was captured by the Marines, yoi. There aren’t any on the island.”

“THEN WHAT IF HE’S HURT?! FLY AROUND AND FIND HIM!”

“He’s not hurt. Look, he’s right there. Safe and sound yoi.” 

Ace, who was indeed on fire, quickly looked over the railing of the ship. Deuce waved. Ace glared and stomped off, still aflame. 

After coming aboard, Deuce headed to the infirmary for work. Deuce started his day by checking the updated patient charts, browsing through everyone’s progress. Deuce was flipping through a chart, reading about a patient’s improvements when Marco sidled up to him. Marco, ever the busybody, was quick to find him and ask about the previous night. For such a mature man, he thought, Marco sure wanted to have his beak in everyone’s business. 

“So, interesting night yoi?” Marco asked with a quirked eyebrow.

“You could say that,” Deuce replied, not putting down the chart. He knew the Commanders were the biggest gossip mongers on board, so he didn’t want to say too much in case it got back to Ace. 

“I’ve never seen you spend the night off the ship before.” It looked like Marco wasn’t letting Deuce go without some information.

“A date invited me to stay over, it was nice sleeping on land for a change.”

“Hmm. I thought you and Ace were…staying over together.”

Deuce just shrugged one shoulder with a small frown. He didn’t want to describe to Marco the mechanics of his non-relationship with Ace. Deuce put down one chart and picked up another. Marco looked at him with something akin to pity, ruffled his hair, and walked away. 

MARCO POV

Marco watched Ace spontaneously catch fire throughout the day, usually after glancing at Deuce. Deuce, for his part, was ignoring Ace altogether with much more success. Marco was sitting on the deck next to Izou, drinking their afternoon tea together.

“Should we help him? It’s hard to watch,” asked Izou.

“No, this is a good lesson for him to learn,” replied Marco. It was painful to watch Ace make such obvious mistakes, but there was nothing to be done. Some things had to be learned through experience alone.

“And what lesson is that?” Izou said with a sly smile.

“Never take love for granted yoi,” Marco replied, taking Izou’s hand from his tea cup and gently kissing it. 

ACE POV

It became a repeating pattern, much to Ace’s dismay and anger. They would go to new islands, someone would recognize Deuce, and talk to him endlessly about his writing. He was asked out for many dates, dinners, drinks, and more. Ace didn’t know how people recognized him, since Deuce’s picture wasn’t printed in the papers, but he was rising rapidly in popularity. Deuce suddenly didn’t have time for Ace, for explorations or adventures, or for their relationship. Truthfully, Ace was jealous of all these fans who were taking up Deuce’s time. 

The first time Deuce left the ship for an island without telling Ace, he almost burned the ship down with his untamed feelings. He didn’t know where Deuce was, and it didn’t feel right going to a new location without him. He asked around, but no one knew where Deuce had gone either. Getting increasingly annoyed and worried, he burned hotter and hotter, unable to stop his spiraling emotions. Finally, Marco told him that Deu had left for a date and to calm down because he was scorching the deck with his pacing. 

He wouldn’t admit it, but he had tracked Deuce down on the island. Spying on Deuce from afar, he saw Deu laughing with an adoring fan - who had an autographed copy of Deuce’s column in his hand. He realized he hadn’t seen Deuce that joyful since they’d joined the Whitebeard Pirates. It made him feel guilty that he hadn’t noticed Deuce was so unhappy before. He knew medicine wasn’t Deuce’s true passion, but he hadn’t seen that bright look in his eyes for months. Ace knew he wasn’t an intellectual match for Deuce - he never had been. He felt envious of the people who could talk to Deuce about his writing and engage him in that way. 

Ace started avoiding Deuce, not out of maliciousness, but because he couldn’t bear seeing him. Seeing Deuce just reminded him of his own failures. Every time he saw Deuce, he thought about how he had messed up their relationship, how Deuce was moving on, and how he had squandered his opportunity with the most significant person in his life. Seeing Deuce reminded him both of the good times they had shared, and that they were no longer having those kinds of adventures together. Ace had even asked Marco for advice, but it only made Ace feel worse.

“Do you think I can get him back?” Ace asked, feeling insecure. He’d found Marco in the Commander’s lounge, reading some book about Grand Line viruses. Marco was in the loop about everything on the ship, so Ace didn’t need to explain who or what he was talking about.

“It depends yoi,” answered Marco cryptically, closing the book to look at Ace.

“Depends on what?” Ace gritted out. Ace never liked word games or mysteries, especially when he was asking for help. 

“It depends on whether you’re someone he would want to come back to. Deuce’s most enduring trait is his loyalty. You’ve taken advantage of that and now he might be done. You’ve always acted like he’s a sure bet, someone you can treat as you want but always rely on. But he hasn’t been able to rely on you yoi. So, like I said, it depends.”

Marco’s words hit Ace hard. Ace thanked Marco automatically and left to go think over his words privately in his own room. Laying on his bed, Ace ran his fingers through his hair, trying to relieve his stress. Marco was right, Ace relied on Deuce so much, in so many ways. Deuce was his voice of reason, his cool head, his external source of confidence. Deuce was logical and analytical, able to see alternatives Ace would never think of on his own. When he was uncertain or unsure about any decision, he bounced his ideas off of Deuce. Deu was non-judgemental and thoughtful, kind and reflective. Ace always thought they balanced each other well.

Ace always felt lucky that someone like Deuce would want to talk to someone like him, much less be his lover. Someone as smart as Deuce could do anything, he didn’t have to be a pirate. Deuce had chosen life as an outlaw over a normal civilian life, and Ace felt he owed a lot of his success to Deuce. Ace showed Deuce parts of himself that few people saw - his insecurity, his depression, his issues with self worth. But the reverse was true as well. Deuce was witty, funny, and perceptive. He was reserved, you had to know him well for his true nature to be revealed. Though, Ace supposed, it was now being revealed to the world via his writing. No wonder so many fans wanted Deuce’s attention - they got to see that amazing side of him that had attracted Ace to him in the first place.

He thought back to his arguments with Deuce about their relationship and realized Deuce was right - Ace wanted the emotional and physical connection with Deu, but didn’t want to have to give up anything in return. It was selfish, and it was no wonder Deuce didn’t want to accept it.

Ace didn’t know what to do. He was the one who had rejected an exclusive relationship and was regretting it. He didn’t want to try to close the relationship now, that wasn’t fair to Deuce. Deuce had waited for Ace patiently in the shadows for years, never complaining when Ace got attention. Now that Deuce was the one getting noticed, he didn’t want to seem bitter and spiteful. If Deuce needed other people for his fulfillment, Ace wouldn’t get in his way.

Deuce POV

Deuce knew Ace was avoiding him. Before, even on a ship as large as the Moby, Deuce could always find Ace. They ate meals together or caught each other for a few moments on the deck to chat. Now, it was like Ace had vanished into thin air. Deuce didn’t have the time during the day to go find him, and was too upset to try at night. It seemed like they were going to go their separate ways, without so much as a goodbye.

A few days later, Deuce was taking a break, finishing a draft of a column in Marco’s office. Marco would let Deuce use the cozy room if it was unoccupied, which Deuce greatly appreciated. He felt someone watching him, and looked up to see Ace leaning against the door frame. He waited for Ace to speak first. Ace took off his cowboy hat and fiddled with it in his hands.

“Hi.”

“Hi.” There was awkward tension between them, something Deuce had never felt before. 

“I just wanted to say that I’m…I’m sorry. I’ve been acting like an asshole. I, uh, I’ve been jealous.” Ace was uncomfortable expressing himself, and Deuce was surprised to hear the honest confession.

“You’ve been jealous of the attention I’ve been getting?” Deuce asked.

“No, it’s not the attention exactly. I’m happy you’re finally getting noticed. You’re a great writer.” 

“How do you know I’m a great writer?” Deuce knew it was an antagonistic thing to say, but he couldn’t stop the acerbic remark from coming out. 

“I always read your column. It’s wonderful.” Ace was still fidgeting, but was starting to open up a little more. Deuce hoped that they could have a productive conversation and stop the bad energy between them.

“I didn’t know you read them.” Deuce had never seen Ace look at a newspaper, much less his writing.

“Of course I do. You make our adventures sound so fantastic. It’s like reliving it all over again. You just skip the parts with me in ‘em.” 

“Well, yeah. I can’t say that the reason I travel to these places is because I’m a Whitebeard pirate. I wouldn’t get published. But I include what you tell me sometimes, usually about the local bugs.”

“Guess so.” Ace entered Marco’s office and sat on the couch, closing the door behind him. He sat on the couch across from the desk, looking everywhere except Deuce’s face.

“So why are you jealous then? If it’s not the writing, is it the dates? You get tons of attention everywhere we go, and I never say anything.”

“Yeah, I don’t like all the dates and hookups and stuff people invite you to.” Ace was kicking at the rug on the floor of the room, still avoiding Deu’s eyes.

“But, isn’t that what you wanted? To be free to have adventures on the high seas?” 

“No. Well, yeah. I thought I wanted that. But I don’t.”

“What do you want then? I can’t read your mind, and I don’t like the way you’ve been acting.”

Ace stood up and crossed over to where Deuce was. He sat slouched over on Marco’s desk, facing Deuce, finally looking him in the eyes.  “I just want you. I want you all to myself. I know it’s selfish. I know it’s too late for me, for us. I know I’ve been bad for you. I thought I wanted to have lots of different experiences, with lots of different people. But I don’t. I only want you. Watching you go out with other people has been killing me.”

“...Ace…”

Ace deflated and put his forehead against Deuce’s. Speaking softly now, he continued “No, I know. I don’t deserve to have you back. I wasn’t treating you right. I always thought you’d be there for me, waiting for when I needed you. And when you weren’t…I couldn’t handle it. I know we’re over. You deserve better. And I know you need someone who can talk to you about your work. I know the kind of stuff you want to talk about and I know I can’t give that to you. I just…wish I had realized what we had before. You can go out and do whatever you want. I’ll stop bothering you so much.” Ace started to move away, but was caught by Deuce pulling him back.

“You’re an idiot,” Deuce said flatly.

“Yeah,” Ace said dejectedly, looking down. 

“You hurt me a lot.”

“I’m sorry,” Ace whispered.

“I missed you.”

Ace looked at Deuce, searching his face to determine if Deu was lying. “You did? You always looked like you were having so much fun on your dates.”

Deuce tilted his head in curiosity. “And how would you know? Were you following me?”

Ace turned bright red, and said “uh, no, I just…happened to be in the same area a couple times.”

Deuce lightly laughed and said, “You’ve always been such a bad liar. I saw you skulking about, on two different islands. You could have just talked to me about all this. Even the jealousy stuff. You know, communicate.”

“I didn’t know what to say. I want you for myself, but I…I want you to be happy even more than that. I don’t want to hold you back. You’re going to do great things, I can feel it. Even if they’re not with me.”

“They could be.” 

“What do you mean?” Ace looked at Deuce skeptically.

“Adventures aren’t as much fun alone or with strangers. I missed you a lot. Not one of those dates was as fun as a single afternoon with you.”

Ace looked up at a softly smiling Deuce. “Would you…take me back?”

“I could be convinced.”

Ace gripped Deuce’s chin with his fingers and angled his face down towards his own. “You won’t regret it. I’m gonna be with you only you… I’ll be… boyfriend…the best boyfriend…I can’t believe you’d let me…I’m so lucky….thank you, I’m gonna -” Ace was babbling, thinking of all the promises he wanted to make to Deuce. Deuce looked fondly at Ace.

“I know,” said Deuce. With that, he closed the distance between them and kissed his lover. His Captain. His partner. His.

[ditttiii]

KINTSUGI. | 0T7 (M) || 04 |

◈ Hybrid AU || Ot7 x Reader

◈ Summary:  Life is neither fair nor what you had dreamed that it would be, but the hand that fate had dealt them was worse than yours.

When you get a chance to adopt seven hybrids, all a little rough around the edges, do you take it? Will this last-ditch attempt at doing something right end with you buried six feet under the ground or will it finally give you the family that you have always secretly hoped for?

◈ Genre: eventual romance || hurt/comfort || angst (with a happy ending) || eventual smut.

◈ Chapter Four

Word Count: 5k

Warnings: none. (sfw)

◈ Masterlist

Moodboard By: @today-we-will-survive​ ❤   

 you know i didn't want to

have to haunt you,

but what a ghostly scene. 

You feel like a live wire, buzzing and zapping sporadically in all the wrong places. This is a mess; you are a mess. Your feelings are tangled and knotted tight like a pair of old wired headphones, and the more you try to pull them apart, the tighter the tangle grows.

 Sinking deeper into your hoodie, you exhale in an attempt to keep warm, shuffling across the sweeping, empty parking lot to get to your SUV as quickly as you can.

 The wind outside is cold and no less harsh than when you had stepped foot outside hours ago, but somehow for the first time since you got here, you feel warm. The cold outside feels less hostile, less biting, and your inhales no longer make you feel like the air is trying to suffocate you the more you breathe it in.

 It had taken hours for the whole thing to be done. More hours than you were comfortable with inside that place to finally get the seven hybrids registered under your custody, and with a pained sigh, you sink into your seat. Hands-on the steering, you still. Just for a minute.

  I am sorry. I hope you can forgive me.

 A minute. Just for a minute, you allow yourself to feel weak. Let your walls down alone and feel your heart squeeze inside your chest till it hurts to breathe, till the burn spreads from your thorax to your throat. Hold your breath till your ears pop and you feel enough pain to find just enough self-pity to stop scourging yourself like this.

  I miss you.

 The constant sense of vacuity and inadequateness you feel is now accompanied by the feeling of being undeserving and wholly unprepared for what is to come but shuddering a breath in, you let them settle.

 The minute’s up.

 Turning the gear into reverse, you back out of the parking lot.

 In the time that it had taken you to finish all the formalities, the sun had set. Darkness shrouds the entire place, creating shadows that alter their shape if looked at for a second too long and play games with you. The already eerie place becomes even scarier, and you hasten to pick up the seven awaiting hybrids.

 Coming to a stop in front of the building, you unlock all the doors and unroll the passenger side window.

 “Hey, guys. So there’s enough space in the back for three people, but it would be better if the…um, smaller of you seven take the last seat?” Right off the bat, you hope your poor choice of words doesn’t offend anyone.

 “Yoongi, Jimin, Hoseok; in the back.”

 Unlike how it freezes you in place, Naamjoon’s commanding voice stirs his pack into action and wordlessly, the three climb into place; Namjoon takes the passenger seat for himself. The remaining three take the middle-row seats, and with a mute nod, you put the car back into drive.

 “I live some 40 minutes away, so get comfortable. Also, I know it’s a bit of a drive, but we can make a pitstop along the way if someone needs something?”

 “Anyone?” Namjoon reiterates.

 Variations of I’m good, and I’m fine fill the silence in the car before the quiet reigns again, and you try not to think too hard about how they are really answering Namjoon and not you.

 Did you even expect them to?—No—you know it too, but a very tiny part of you, buried deep enough where you refuse to acknowledge its existence, wishes that you all were at least talking to each other.

 Taking the hint that they might not respond to you unless prompted by their leader, you keep quiet and drive back home in silence.

Blinking dry eyes wet, you press your finger into the biometric scanner of the main gate. A second passes as it registers who you are before the heavy main gate slides open electronically, and you drive in. Tall trees line both sides of your driveway. From the corner of your eye, you watch as the men in the back shift in their seats, leaning forward and showing maybe the first signs of genuine interest in something since you first laid your eyes on them. Soft yellow-lit lamps line the right side of the road, grass sprouting around and encompassing the path in stretches of green, interrupted only by the various stone statues you have gathered over the years. Some passed on, some bought by you.

 It’s a consolation because even if nothing works out and you can never fully gain their trust or friendship, you can provide for them well. Do your best to give everything that they ever desire and protect them.

 A soft gasp escapes Jungkook, bunny ears stirring under his pullover hoodie and the reflection of the passing lamps, the yellow and gold glittered clear amidst his large eyes visible even from where you are sitting. The sight of him unguarded for a moment warms your heart for a reason you can’t yet put your finger on.

 Finally, after a lengthy, awkwardly silent ride, the car rests as you pull up in front of the main house gate.

 “I’ll have to park the car in the garage, but you guys can get off here. I’ll come back around in a minute.”

 “I’ll stay.”

 You blink at Namjoon’s response, unsure of what that means for the rest of the hybrids. You weren’t very comfortable leaving them all alone in a foreign space either, but the property was secured, and there was no point in making them all walk back unnecessarily.

 “Okay,” concludes Yoongi, getting out of the car. No one protests after, wordlessly following him and getting out one by one. You put the car into drive again with all of them off but one.

 Waiting for the garage door to open, you sneak a peek at Namjoon. The wolf hybrid sits perfectly straight, his shoulders wide and broader than the seat rest behind him. Does he not trust you to come back? But that’s a ridiculous notion. Even if he didn’t trust you, which you are sure is the case one way or another, he’s smart enough to know you can’t exactly escape from them in your own house. Putting the car into park, you wonder. Is he being…protective?

In the distance, you see the six of them. Yoongi’s long silver hair made it obvious who was leaning a little space away from the rest of the pack against one of the lamp poles. Hoseok and Jimin are standing close to Jungkook’s hunched figure while Taehyung sits on one of the bottom stairs.

 “Do you have any advice for me?”

 There. You’ve said it. Regardless of Namjoon’s response, it’s worth a shot.

 He remains quiet, not a break in his pace, and you turn to look at him fully. Long, black strands rest against a narrow, sharp face and a vain part of you wonders if hybrids are all genetically tailored to look unreal amounts of pretty or if it’s just your pack.

 “Whatever you think is the best mistress.”

 That word again. You shift to hide your grimace. The word leaves a bad taste in your mouth, and you  need  to figure out a way to get them to stop saying it.

 “My name’s fine, really. You don’t have to–”

 “Mistress, please.”

 You pause. There’s–

 “Don’t ask us to do that.”

 Namjoon sounds…pained doesn’t feel right to you, but it’s something similar. You don’t know him well enough yet to be sure, but you can’t help but think he sounds resigned. It’s the kind of bone-deep weary resignation that makes you swallow back all of the arguments that you have.

 “Alright,” you concede. You won’t broach the subject with the rest of the pack until you have Namjoon on your side, and if he isn’t ready yet, then you are willing to wait. Slow and steady.

 “Jungkook likes you.”

 Your eyes widen. “Sorry?”

 Piercing hazel eyes turn to you, and you can’t even blink. Something about Namjoon’s presence is vital, he demands respect with every breath, and you unconsciously straighten up, giving him your full attention.

 “He’s the youngest, but he trusts you already. He isn’t the easiest and he has his troubles, but—”

 For the first time, you see a crack in Namjoon’s shell. It’s barely there, a very thin hair crack and you only see it because you are looking, but his eyes soften. Just the barest millimetre, and if you blink, you’ll likely not see it again. The edges curled in on themselves, warmth seeping into that otherwise impaling gaze.

 “He isn’t cold. He still believes in goodness and wants a purpose,” Namjoon searches your gaze again like he had a few hours prior, looking for something you are unsure you possess.

“Mistress, if it isn’t too much trouble, please keep him around you. Let him help you. He’s honest and receptive to your wishes and it’ll be the quickest way for him to acclimatise to the change.”

 You see Jungkook hunched in on himself, scared maybe but still curious as his head turns to look at you, and one of his ears pokes out from under the hoodie, crooked and curious as he sees you two approach.

 “I will.”

Fishing out the house key from your front pocket, you jam it in the lock, twisting it with a little more force than you would if the weather out was a little warmer. You make a mental note to get the lock lubricated.

 The door opens to darkness, and you step in, quickly reaching a few steps ahead to switch on the lights. The inside is blessedly warmer and you shuffle your new housemates in, locking the door shut behind you.

 “This is it. Welcome!” The forced cheer in your voice is slightly awkward, tinged with nervousness and anxiety. You will now have seven housemates who also call you mistress and treat you as one.

  This is going to take some time to get used to.

 “Do you guys want a tour of sorts first, or I can show you your rooms, and you can freshen up?”

 A gurgling stomach is the first one to respond.

 “Right, I’ll get started with the dinner while you guys get cleaned up.”

 “Dinner would be lovely, mistress.” It’s Hobi this time, and your lips curl into a bright, encouraging smile.

 “Perfect. However, I am gonna need some help with cooking. I don’t have much experience cooking for more than two people, so do any of you know your way around the kitchen?”

 “Mistress..” Seokjin steps up, his tall frame appearing from behind the huddle, “I know a few dishes and am decent with recipes for most others that I don’t know.”

 Nodding, you beckon him over to the kitchen while asking the rest of them to wait for you to come back.

 Quickly showing him what’s in the refrigerator, you pull out some vegetables and meat, explaining how you’d like him to cut them before you rush out to the remaining hybrids.

 “Alright, follow me.”

 Climbing the wooden staircase, you lead them to the first floor, where most rooms are. Explaining the basic layout of your house en route and letting them know to explore and figure out the rest. Pointing to the door of your room, you simply tell them it’s yours. Wondering for a second if maybe you should ask them to not go in without asking you but ultimately push back your inhibitions, deciding not to.

 “There are three rooms on this floor besides mine, all large enough for two, but it could be a tight squeeze for three. There are another two rooms on the ground floor if someone would like those.”

 Ultimately, you decide to let them figure out the details of their living quarters on their own and quietly make your escape once you have established they know the directions to the ground floor rooms.

 Coming into the kitchen, you see Seokjin’s tall figure hunched over your granite counter, long thin fingers gripping the knife confidently as he slices in practiced, uniform motions.

 “Need any help?”

  Huh—the bear hybrid jumps, looking at you with a startled gaze and you rush to apologise. Maybe not all of them are equally as aware of their surroundings.

 With another apology, you smile, coming to stand beside him.

 “I have got it, mistress.”

 Nodding, you leave him to finish the preparation as you work on making the broth.

 “Do you want a bathroom break or something? I know I dragged you here first thing as soon as we came in. I can hold down the fort alone for a while if you’d like to get refreshed,” you offer, guilt weighing your stomach down at having to ask for help so soon.

 Seokjin smiles, and it’s a small, soft thing. All full pink lips and gentle warmth and try as you might, you can’t force your gaze away from it. With a shake of his head, he reassures you and nodding you accept his response wordlessly. Still a little awe-struck by the smile.

 It’s quiet as you work alongside each other, but the silence isn’t awkward or oppressive. Unlike Namjoon or Yoongi, despite his broad shoulders and tall height, Seokjin isn’t as intimidating. You have no doubt that if a situation arose that demanded it, the predator, that half of him is, would make an appearance. Sharp, long nails stretched out from the ends of his nailbed, a subtle reminder of his part identity. However, at the same time, in the warm yellow lighting of your kitchen, surrounded by a pile of finely chopped vegetables and meat and wearing your soft pink apron, he feels no part predator and all parts the man himself.

 You exit the kitchen in a rush, handing him the apron hanging off a kitchen chair. It’s apparent you are stressed, worried about making them comfortable and maybe not knowing how to.

 Jin isn’t the leader of the pack, but he is the oldest, and with it comes experience that even Namjoon lacks. He has known what it is like to be a hybrid the longest between them, had the most time to come to terms with it before the uprising, and in some ways, he feels for Jungkook.

Maybe that’s why the others aren’t entirely wrong in their assumption when they accuse him of playing favourites with Jungkook. Because while the youngest isn’t his favourite—he could never choose one of them, they are all his just as much as he is theirs—Jin is the most protective of him. It’s the kind of parental love that a hybrid never really has the privilege to feel, but a stroke of fate and his bleeding heart for those his kind had led Jungkook to experience it. In their own way, they all feel the most for their maknae, wishing to protect the most vulnerable of their group, not wanting him to be as jaded as they are, and he hopes it’s the same for you too.

 He boasts of a past no better than any of his pack, but unlike Namjoon, who functions with cautiosness that stems from the self-alloted weight of his whole pack and then some, or Yoongi, who shields himself under a layer of hostility so thick very rarely has Jin himself seen the Yoongi that breathes underneath all that facade; Jin still trusts humans. He still remembers when things weren’t as bad and knows that not all of humanity is alike. There are vicious hybrids, just as there are kind humans, and denying the existence of either by the other is foolish.

 He hears your voice as you pass him by the kitchen, the rest of his pack tailing behind you quietly while you chat; whether to fill the silence or to help them fill at ease, he doesn’t know.

Jin doesn’t feel comfortable with the unknown and is unaware of plenty.

 Like—you; who you are besides what he has already seen and deduced, the real you. The you who chose to have them. He needs to know your reasons for adopting seven hybrids at the worst time you could have chosen. Jin is no fool; he realises how rare anyone wanting a single hybrid is nowadays, let alone seven. Had he been a human, your actions would have screamed a death wish to him. And yet you still did, choosing to do the unpopular and maybe even unwise.

 He can hear the slam of a door closing as several pairs of feet walk above him, the distinct thump of feet against wood, and he hopes, despite all the unknown and unwise, that he is right for putting his faith in you.

Dinner is an odd affair. You aren’t used to having another person under the same roof as you, let alone half a dozen others. Once Jin and you are done cooking, you ask Jungkook—hanging by the kitchen entrance—to call the others, soon passing on a stack of plates to Hoseok and giving him free rein to set the table. When you come out of the kitchen, at last, it’s to the assumption that everyone else must have already picked a seat and settled down, but the sight that greets you is different. Disturbingly so.

 The seven hybrids stand divided behind the two sides of the table, leaving both ends clear, with their heads bowed and hands folded. It shouldn’t surprise you after today, after everything you have seen and felt, after the almost breakdown you’ve had, realising the extent of their servitude and yet it does. Something about being under the same roof had fooled you into thinking they’d treat you just like they do each other. Something about the domesticity of sharing your kitchen space, cooking with someone and having someone waiting on you at the end had deluded you into a sense of normalcy.

The scene that you walk into quickly shatters that illusion.

 “Sit down please, it’s late and we should all be heading to bed soon anyway,” you force yourself to be casual as you take one head of the table, unsure if the nonchalance is for their benefit or if you are just too cowardly to ask why they don’t feel comfortable sitting until you do.

 Time. You’ll take it one step at a time, and this is a battle you choose to not wage today. 

 The sobs are quiet, muffled, and maybe some other day, you wouldn’t have heard them, but tonight you are careful and the unmistakable sound of crying brings you to a sudden halt. You debate going in, fearing the unknown and fumbling out of your depth as you stand there with sweaty fingers clenched white around the cool metal handle. You pray for resilience—strength you don’t have left after the long day, curse yourself for hesitating and force yourself to turn the handle.

 Curled into himself, hands wrapped around his knees and eyes leaking tears hidden in the space between. You don’t need to remove the cloth over his head to know it’s Jungkook dwarfed in a frayed oversized hoodie. The shudders that were poorly muffled before are quiet now, his breaths seized as he no doubt registers your presence. A voice inside you supplies how he must have heard you even before you had stepped into the hallway with his abilities.

But if so, why hadn’t he quieted down then? Did he not think you would care enough to check?

 Whatever remnants of hesitation were left regarding reaching out faded at the sight of him trying to curl his broad shoulders tighter into each other.

 “Jungkook?” you call, moving closer.

 He doesn’t answer, head lowering further into the gaps of his knees and the hood over his head slides away a little at the moment. One lonesome ear peaking out, down and tucked close, and you ache to gather him in a hug.

 “Hey Koo…,” voice soft as a feather, you get down on your knees, inching closer until there’s less than a metre of space between you two. This close, you hear the barely audible sniffles as he breathes through a wet and, judging by the downturned head—leaking nose.

 Jungkook shivers under your touch as you place a hand over his clothed knee and a semblance of hope bubbles in your heart realising that at least he hadn’t flinched. You think he’s frightened of the unknown too, but maybe he isn’t terrified of you.

 “I won’t force you to talk if you don’t want to, and I don’t want you to explain something you don’t feel comfortable with. I just want to know if you are okay.”

 The lone long ear twitches, rising slowly.

 “Can we start there?”

 Your words are still soft, quiet, so no one outside hears anything, and Jungkook finally stirs. A pair of deep chocolate brown eyes rise to meet yours and you don’t know if it’s the tears or the stark bathroom lighting reflecting back, but for an instant, you swear nothing has shimmered quite as bright.

 “Yeah. okay.” he says, and it’s just as quiet and for a brief moment, you sit there in companionable silence, content to be still except for the small of your hand rubbing comforting circles on his knee.

 Keeping hold of his gaze, you smile a small but encouraging smile. “Are you?”

 “I don’t know.”

 Nodding, you accept the unexpectedly raw confession. “That’s okay. To be honest, I don’t know if I am either but as long as you hold on. I think that’s ultimately what matters the most. Not giving up.”

 Pools of deep molten brown widen, an emotion you can’t identify swimming in them before he averts his gaze, biting his lips nervously.

 “I am sorry, mistress.”

 With a shake of your head, you dismiss his apology. “There is nothing to apologise for. It’s okay to not be okay and to cry,” your fingers tighten around his knee, “Just know you are not alone. There are people who care; you know they care, and I care too. So let us be there for you, okay?”

 His gaze still glistens but he gathers enough to where the shudders stop and you make yourself comfortable on the floor. At this point, there isn’t much you feel like you can do to make him change his mind over whatever it is that’s tormenting him, but at the same time, you know what suffering is like too. You’ve been there, down on your knees at your worst, crying and begging things to change to go back in time. Long for something you never had, for a release and a better next day.

 So, you don’t know what he has been through and don’t see how you can make it better at the moment (if anyone can), but you do know loneliness. The poignant void that your mind can weave that makes you feel alone in a crowded room—thoughts that weigh your core—the only thing keeping you company, and it’s horrible. You hate being lonely but enjoy being alone and it’s that feeling of powerlessness. Being unable to understand where the feelings come from and only knowing how heavy they weigh you down settled around your shoulders, claws digging into your skin, leaving bruises unseen.

 If being here is the only thing you can ever do for him–any of them–you’ll do it. Day after day till your last.

 Moments and minutes blur into each other as you sit pressed with your knee against his, the reassuring warmth of company tugging you two back to the present and in place. Eventually, he nods. Long thin fingers peek out from a large hoodie to wipe away any residual tears.

 “Yes, mistress.”

 Smiling, you lean closer to Jungkook, the barest bit, cautious of his boundaries, and your heart physically warms when he moves to do the same. It’s not an embrace, with your head barely grazing his shoulder, most of its weight still being held up by your neck and one of his ears flopping down to rest against your ear, more a ghost touch than any real contact, but it feels better than any hug you have received in years. You stay there, enveloped in each other’s warmth and hesitant touches, until the tiles under you grow warm and your eyes start to feel heavy. The surprise of being comfortable in another’s presence omitted in your exhausted state of mind. Eventually, Jungkook moves. Or you slip. You aren’t sure which came first but when you finally start coming to, it’s to the feeling of Jungkook’s hands around your forearms, straightening you up as he supports your unsteady, half-asleep body.

 “Oh god I am so sorry, I didn’t mean to fall asleep on you,” a blush cloaks your cheeks and you wish you were wearing an oversized hoodie too, if only so you could hide behind the comforting cloak of said fabric. 

Jungkook shakes his head, both ears now on display as he smiles. It’s small and timid and he can barely meet your gaze for more than a second but it’s more than what you had expected to gain by the end of the day and certainly far more than anything you could have even hoped for. 

 Fragile and new it may be, but you two now have a bond. 

 It’s not onesided. You know you are not just fooling yourself when the same fingers lightly grab the back of your tee as you move through the hallway, intending to leave Jungkook at his bedroom door, preferably with one of his hyungs.

 Slightly embarrassed, you realise you don’t exactly know which room he is in or with whom. “Which room did you pick, Jungkook?”

 Shuffling a little closer to you, his fingers pinch your tee tighter and you slow your pace, leaning back to catch his gaze. “I mean, I know this sounds stupid, considering it’s my house but mind directing me to your room?”

 His eyes visibly soften, and he nods, leading without another word. Jungkook lets go of the back of your tee only to grab your full sleeve from the side a second later.

 You furiously squash the voice inside your head urging you to pinch his cheeks.

 “I was planning on doing a grocery run tomorrow morning, so if there’s anything you want, just let me know.”

 “Can I come?”

 Surprised, you look at him. “Ofcourse you can, but you really don’t have to. I will probably leave early, and well, it’s just a grocery run. I will take you guys out to get some stuff later in the day. Today’s been long; if you want to sleep in, you should.”

 He shuffles shyly, one hand in his pocket and one grabbing your sleeve. “I want to.”

 Something in your chest constricts, too tight and too full as the rest of you feels slightly weightless. This boy is going to be the death of you.  

 Namjoon opens the door to the room Jungkook leads you, and the youngest wishes you night with a bow and a soft thank you before shuffling in. The straight, quivering ears give away the excitement and joy the rest of him so desperately tries to hide in favour of being poised. 

 It makes and breaks your heart. You are happy—beyond thankful—that he has started to consider you as more than just his owner, maybe not yet a friend, but at least someone he trusts. However, the way his responses, ingrained and trained, all have an underlying hint of servitude; it makes you want to protect him from yourself, lest you do something to encourage that sense of captivity that comes so naturally to him. 

 “Goodnight, mistress.” 

 Namjoon’s voice is all gravel and stone as he drops you off at your bedroom door despite all your protests. 

 There’s a thankyou somewhere lodged in your chest, pushing against the confines of your ribs and wanting to escape through the hollows in between, words that tickle the back of your throat, begging to come out and tell him how you think Jungkook trusts you now. Ask him shamefully if he thinks you are doing good, if he trusts you to take care of him and his family. 

 But the words never come, and with the greeting returned, you step inside your room, shutting the door on the longest day of your life. 

  a/n: i am alive. i am back and my apology comes in the form of this nearly 5k word chapter. this has been a long time coming and i have no excuse. i am scum. life just got away from me and it took all of me and then some to get it back on track. if you wanna talk to me, shoot me an ask. i am always beyond happy when i get the chance to talk to any of you so yes! i m here and i hope you are here too. 

Lemme know what you thought of the chapter in the comments please! it's as always the support and comments that bring me back to some of my stories with the drive to give them the ending that they and you all deserve. We have got a long road ahead of us but i promise to make it worth it 💕 Thankyou so much for reading my story! i love you ❣️ i hope you have an amazing day/night ahead 🫶

[anon-e-miss]

If you want a little behind the scenes glimpse into how I write, and how I fuck myself over.

Every fic I write has a minimum word count per update. Yes, I have imposed these counts on myself. No, I can’t just dismiss them. This is some deeply rooted neuroses.

Tumblr fic, on average 1k. Plot heavy ones, 2k.

Patreon, 2k.

Cloak and Mask, 5k.

Before the Precipice, 5k.

Au Aug, 1k.

Ex Aurae, 6k.

A Debt of Conscience, 5.5k.

Ecdysis, 6.5-7k.

If I’m changing POV, it can be no less than halfway through the required word count.

More is fine, less is not.

There’s no reasoning with the Harlot. This is how my write brain is and now I’m going back to Ecdysis, which of course has the biggest minimum.

[keouil]

as long as the sun remains the sun

"rise and shine, boys!" mattsun yells over the drowsy first years, banging pots and pans together. "rome wasn't built in a day!" "we're japanese!" tsukishima barks. 5k. iwaizumi/oikawa/kageyama. camping!au. also on ao3.

Asahi is the one who breaks first.

“WHAT THE FRICK!!” came a decidedly shrill, possibly embarrassing, surely pathetic scream from over all the way at the other side of the camp that had Iwaizumi snap his head in that direction and Oikawa inch closer to him almost imperceptibly.

"Don't tell me—" Suga shakes his head at the same time Daichi curses low under his breath, "What now."

A dozen things happen at once in rapid succession.

Noya sprints to the direction of the voice, Hinata close on his tail because he was basically His Tail. Ennoshita scrambling after them after Suga hissed at him to not just stand there and follow. Yahaba quirking an eyebrow at the elementary choice of a curse word, Narita catching his judgment and getting all up in his space until he apologized, Tanaka acting as his back-up.

Daichi, who had so far been in the middle of a passionate rant detailing Karasuno’s dependability when it came to these things—What things, Mattsun interjected. Roughhousing and getting our hands dirty, Suga supplied proudly—when Asahi all but debunked it in less than the time it took for Makki to count heads as soon as they arrived at the campsite.

“Your kid is missing,” Makki comments, looking over the list of attendees.

“Ours?” Oikawa asks, at the same time Daichi stands up, “Probably mine.”

Makki looks back and forth between them, suddenly feeling unsteady on his feet and fumbling around for an out. Iwaizumi knows exactly the reason why, and voices it out loud for everyone to hear: “It’s Kageyama.”

Again, a dozen things happen at once.

Daichi gasps out in horror, head whipping around the campsite.

Mattsun palms his forehead, already dreading the absolutely normal reaction he was absolutely going to get from Oikawa.

Suga decides he wants to permanently end Iwaizumi’s life for the multiple grave offenses he’d been committing against his soul throughout the day: getting the last window seat on the bus, being a loud snorer, breathing near him and making it his problem, choosing gluten-free marshmallows at the rest stop like a deranged psychopath. He told him as much at check-out, You’re a deranged psychopath and I don’t trust my first years with you, Suga admonished. Likewise, Iwaizumi replied, looking menacingly down at the copious amounts of sugary pastries in his basket. And you’re not feeding my first years this shit.

And really it was that bold and unfounded sense of entitlement that had Suga adding another box, more out of sheer spite than anything as he passed him, glaring, Watch me.

"We've been here less than an hour," Makki looks around in confusion, exasperated. "How have we already lost one of them. What exactly could have happened in less than an hour."

Suga and Daichi look at each other.

"Hinata," they say at the same time. 

-

They find Kageyama lost in the woods.

It’s Iwaizumi, best tracker on the team and just generally more adaptable to wilderness survival, who finds him holding onto his duffel bag for dear life under the bark of an ancient looking tree. He apparently challenged Hinata to a race on who can get to the campsite first and got thoroughly sidetracked by the similar looking trees and having ostensibly no sense of direction or self-preservation, huddled in an open area easily accessible to rain or wild animals.

Iwaizumi sighed and mentally noted for later: Teach Kageyama basic life skills, that he then revises to, Make Sugawara teach Kageyama basic life skills.

“Kageyama,” he says, approaching the clearing. Kageyama’s head snaps up and the look of such open relief on his face tugs at Iwaizumi’s heart a little, because it really was so easy, to slip into a senpai complex for someone like him. “You okay?”

Kageyama blinks. "I-Iwaizumi-san," he starts hesitantly, standing up on shaking legs. "I—"

"Got lost," Iwaizumi answers for him. "I know. We've been looking for you for a while."

Kageyama flushes. "You have?"

"You mean you haven't been hearing your vice captain call your name bloody for the past hour?" Iwaizumi tries for a joke. Only it's not really, because Suga was swearing himself raw, if not for Daichi reminding him to preserve his voice for later. 

But Kageyama still just blinks, still so disoriented, still so wet behind the ears no matter the facade he puts up.

"Right then," Iwaizumi clears his throat, beckoning him over. "Let's go."

Kageyama all but trips over his feet to follow after him, clutching his bag even tighter to his chest as he hangs off Iwaizumi’s every word.

“The next time you find yourself lost in the woods,” he starts explaining. “Try tracking the movement of the sun.” When he looks over to check if Kageyama was listening, instead notes the absolute gobsmacked expression on his face in return, amends just as quickly: "Oh, he says. “You can just — follow the sunset.”

Kageyama begins vehemently nodding, scrambling to get a notebook out and listing all the other things Iwaizumi was rattling off about when it came to Camping Survival 101. Don't eat this, he points to a patch of enticing ivy. Only drink from fresh water sources like rivers or streams, he adds. But if you find yourself in a pinch, carve out an opening from a tree and wait for the water to follow.

By the time they make it back to camp, Oikawa has half the Karasuno team—and some of Seijoh—in a formation line much like a militant officer does with its army lines, barking out orders to fan out across the different areas of the campsite. Go to the forest, ordered Oikawa at Noya. Try the trail behind the waterfalls, he yelled at Kyotani.

Daichi and Suga sported uniform looks of indignation as Oikawa looked an hour away from splitting his hair out in frustration.

“If someone doesn’t get Tobio back by midnight,” he warns the rest. “I swear to G—”

Iwaizumi coughs.

Oikawa doesn’t turn, doesn’t even acknowledge his return. He senses it, Iwaizumi knows, the change in the air and the very real presence Kageyama takes up in any space. So instead his shoulders just stiffen, tilting his head their way just so.

“I mean,” Oikawa coughs, loudly and not at all awkwardly. “Tobio can sleep in the rain for all I care!” he claps. “Right then, back to unpacking!"

-

Naturally, as with all order of things, sleeping arrangements go by as smoothly as everyone expects.

“No.”

“At least look at it.”

“No.”

"You didn't even look!"

"I said no."

Yamaguchi looked like he was tempted by the devil himself to throw a log Kunimi’s way. “Oi,” he hisses, growing annoyed. “What’s so wrong with this sleeping bag? It’s the same as everyone else’s.”

Kunimi cast a bored glance at the pack Yamaguchi was holding up, all neatly folded and prepped for use. “It’s orange,” he deadpans. “I hate orange.”

“It’s just a color!” yells Yamaguchi. “It functions exactly the same!”

“Then why don’t you use it?” Kunimi lifts a brow. Behind them, they can hear Hinata yelling at Kageyama to move his sleeping bag by the outskirts of the camp, his longer than usual pack taking up half the space designated for the first years. Kindaichi looked equally awkward trying to fit himself and his belongings in what little space they were allowed to take up. “If it’s basically the same thing anyway?”

Yamaguchi breathes once, twice. “It’s not for me,” he explains slowly. “None of our sleeping bags fit Tsukki. He needs a longer one like Kageyama’s.”

Kunimi crosses his arms in defiance. “And that’s my problem because?”

Yamaguchi has half the mind to call out for Daichi, or Iwaizumi, or literally anyone else who could demonstrate even a modicum of empathy so clearly lacking in Kunimi. 

"You don’t even need it!” he gestures wildly to the mint green one by his legs. “You can use the large one like everyone else’s! Tsukki can't use anything else but extra large!”

Kunimi huffs, brushing past him. “I’m not like everyone else,” delivered in the same cadence as a main character in a 2000s romcom who finally decides she's better than everyone and doesn't need a man to fulfil her needs both emotionally and physically. 

"What the fuck," Yamaguchi swears under his breath as he stared after him.

He turns his head in time to see Hinata and Kageyama running around and demanding Kindaichi to share his insect repellant spray, along with some of the manga he brought, telling him to not be so selfish and stop hoarding all the survival items. Iwaizumi stops them all with a glare and forces Kindaichi to share, Hinata to shut up, and Kageyama to let him know if he needs anything else. 

"What the fuck," Yamaguchi swears under his breath as he stared after them.

-

By the time dinner rolls around, everyone is either pissy (first years), amused (second years), or elated (third years). 

They were all lounging about the makeshift campfire that took all afternoon to build, the warmth of the fire lighting up everyone's features along with the moonlight streaming in through the gaps in the trees. It was unusually cold that night, a breeze in the air that began from deep in the forest until it tapered out to just north of chilly in their site. But even so, the expressions on everyone's faces felt far more frosty.

Oikawa is the first to pick up the tension.

He leans over to whisper as much to Daichi, who was busy arranging the logs in the fire. “I think,” he starts curiously. "Something is going on."

Daichi looks up to survey around the camp, taking stock of his own kin and then some.

Hinata and Kageyama are, predictably, huffing and puffing and very pointedly looking away from each other because God knows what and who has the time. Yamaguchi has been apologizing for the better part of ten minutes, very nearly close to begging to a Tsukishima who hasn't even so much as glanced his way, because God knows what and who has the time. Kunimi and Kindaichi are the only ones who at least look mildly cohabitative, but then again Daichi thinks he’s never seen them be anything but bored and nervous, respectively and in equal measures.

His eyes trail over everyone—in various states of pissed, amused, elated—before giving up and shrugging, “God knows what and who has the time.”

But evidently, Suga and Iwaizumi do.

“Well well well,” Suga cooes, straddling up to where the first years were, sensing turmoil between Yamaguchi and Kunimi. "What say we turn those frowns upside down?"

"Oh god," Yamaguchi audibly groans into his hands. "Please stop."

Kunimi looks on in horror at a grinning Suga, slowly inching away from the fire before Iwaizumi clamped a hand on his shoulder, "Not so fast."

Yamaguchi and Kunimi lock eyes in a rare moment of unity. There was an internal conversation happening in the span of a second, before both of them, as if on cue, break open.

"HE WON'T GIVE ME HIS BAG!"

"HE WON'T LEAVE ME ALONE!"

Iwaizumi puts both his palms up. "Bedside voices, boys," he chides, stern. Suga instinctively took a step back at the sound, but rights himself on time as he comes up next to Iwaizumi. "Yes yes," he agrees. "What he said."

Across the crackling of the fire, Daichi looks on impassively as Oikawa sports a drool.

"Think we should do something?" Daichi nods to the almost ridiculous scene of Yamaguchi and Kunimi both kneeling by the dirt, heads bowed low in shame as Iwaizumi rattled off about team camaraderie and the importance of communication. Suga was animatedly agreeing along to whatever he was saying and sporting his own That's right! That's right! comments from time to time. "We are technically their captains."

"Captains, shmantains," Oikawa mumbles distractedly, and when Daichi turns to look, notes in annoyance his attention wasn't even directed at the scolding but more so the matters of Iwaizumi's backside in shorts. "We do enough. We work hard. We earned this."

Daichi coughs awkwardly. "Earned what, exactly."

Oikawa doesn't even budge, stars shooting out of his eyes as he gave possibly the most obvious and inappropriate once-over Daichi has ever seen in his life. And he's seen Tanaka with Kiyoko.

"This," he says, gesturing to Iwaizumi and in Oikawa's words, "glorious display of aesthetic athleticism."

-

They threaten everyone with suicide runs the next morning.

If there was anything at all both third years unanimously agreed on—aside from their perverse sense of ownership over exactly who it was that raised Kageyama, with Iwaizumi putting up a surprisingly good fight—it was the equally perverse sense of joy they derived from torturing underclassmen. The sun was glaringly bright, the blue of the clouds so open, and the ringing voices of their seniors all the more jarring.

"Rise and shine, boys!" Mattsun yells over the drowsy first years, banging pots and pans together. "Rome wasn't built in a day!"

"We're Japanese!" Tsukishima barks, putting the covers back up on his head. 

Suga just yanks his blanket from his sleeping bag, earning him a death glare he expertly deflects with a smile that was deceptively way too chipper for someone he swears he heard yelling at Daichi during Golden Week to shut his phone up or he was going to hurl it across the Pacific Ocean.

"Japanese, Yappanese," Makki strolls over to shake Kageyama and Hinata off of their matching sleeping bags. "Today, you're all under our command."

Hinata just rolls over Kageyama. 

Kageyama just lets him.

Makki curls a brow, a single foot raised to kick them before Oikawa gets there first, pushing him away. "I got it," he says. "Jesus Christ, Makki, they're children."

"We're sixteen!" bites out Tsukishima again, who was now being forcibly dragged by Mattsun along with Kunimi and Kindaichi to the shower stalls. "And we have legal rights! My brother will hear about this!"

"Your aniki will be glad someone finally put your spoiled ass in place," Daichi declares, trying to separate Hinata from their tangle of limbs. From his peripheral, he can see Asahi gently trying to get Yamaguchi to stop mumbling in his sleep. "He sends his regards by the way! Saeko-neesan too, Tanaka!"

"Tobio," Oikawa crouches, rocking his sleeping bag. "Tobio," he says again, shaking his shoulder. "Tobio," he hisses directly next to him. Nothing. Oikawa breathes once, twice, before standing up and very pointedly bringing a leg up to stamp on him before Iwaizumi, too, beats him to it.

"What the fuck," he swears, putting a hand out to stop him. "So much for them being children!"

Oikawa has his mouth open to retort, before a ball of orange fur snowballs its way past them and lumps itself together again with the black mass that was Kageyama. They hear Daichi stomping over the next second, cursing under his breath at Hinata for once again getting past him. 

"Kageyama.." Hinata mumbles into his hair sleepily, and to their horror, sees Kageyama actually melting into the embrace almost unconsciously. "Think... someone's calling.. Let's.. ignore.. if.. Tsukishima."

-

By the time they wrangle everyone awake and slap water on their faces, Daichi and Oikawa are only too happy to introduce them to the 10-km hiking trail everyone was required to complete.

"Mind," recalls Oikawa, looking over his nails in boredom. "We heard there were some snakes in the more woodsy areas."

"Bears too," adds Daichi, grinning.

"Bears too," affirms Oikawa, also grinning.

Kyotani and Tanaka try to run. 

Iwaizumi hauls them both back by the necks of their shirts, all pearly white teeth in the shit-eating grin on his face when he dumps them back on the line. Hinata shudders and rapidly gets his phone out, shaking hands wobbly typing out his last will and testament to an incoherent text meant for Kenma; when a hand shoots out to yank it out of his hands. Mattsun, grinning down on him like a feline cat, as he then began patting everyone down and demanding they surrender their electronics. Next to him, they can hear Yamaguchi pleading for his life to a bored Makki. 

Suga doesn't answer to a single one of their cries for help.

Asahi just hid cowardly behind him.

Daichi whistles to get everyone’s attention. 

“Alright then,” he grins over the growing crowd and uses their agony to fuel his adrenaline higher. Oikawa was doing the same. “With this, we formally welcome you to the Annual Karasuno-Seijoh Summer Teambuilding Camp!”

Oikawa’s smile fades a little at that. “I thought we agreed on Seijoh-Karasuno?”

“Are you perhaps a secret fujoshi?” Daichi asks innocently.

Oikawa blinks. “I—” he starts, unsurely, ignoring Suga chuckling behind him. “I don’t particularly think so, no.”

“Then it doesn’t matter,” Daichi snaps, turning his attention back to their first and second years who were only growing more creative with their complaints and vain attempts at getting out of the day’s torture activities.

"I sprained my ankle," whines Hinata.

"You're our fastest runner," rebuts Suga.

"I'm allergic to trees," pipes Kindaichi.

"Not a thing," offers Mattsun.

"My sister said no," weeps Tanaka.

"You wanna try that again?" warns Daichi.

Iwaizumi clasps his hands together. "Enough!" he booms. If Oikawa inched closer to him in turn, everyone has the good foresight to keep their mouths shut about it. "Are we doing this or what?"

"Y-yes, Iwaizumi-san!" the first and second years chorus.

Now both Oikawa and Daichi's faces fell.

"Why do they always only listen to him?" wonders Suga, falling into step with the third years at the rear of the line. The first years were ahead, yelling and grovelling and swearing all their seniors rotten. It was music to their ears. "Is it like an alpha thing?"

"Most definitely an alpha thing," muses Makki, who also falls into step beside him. "Have you seen the way even Oikawa looks at him? Omega ass behavior."

-

They take their first break after three hours. 

Or, maybe it was more accurate to say, Tsukishima wouldn't stop grinding everyone's ears about the asthma condition he conveniently picked up within the first thirty minutes despite Suga knowing from Kiyoko no one on the team had such an autoimmune disease, that then suddenly morphed into an apparent life-threatening mutation that was going to kill him and everyone around him if he didn't let his body pause to take a break now, right now, this instant; that had Daichi snapping at everyone to take five.

"Oh thank god," Tsukishima wheezes, falling to his knees. 

"Tsukki!" came Yamaguchi's predictable cry of concern no sooner.

Most of the first years are sprawled out on the ground, chests heaving and breaths coming out in pants. The second years look as equally insufferable, but are too prideful to show any form of weakness to the third years who all but look like they just came out of a sports magazine photoshoot. There wasn’t a sliver of disorientation or a hair out of place. Iwaizumi even passed around the loot bags they had apparently so lovingly, out of the goodness of their hearts, prepared for them while they were all sleeping the night before.

Only the best for our cute kouhai! singsung Oikawa gleefully. 

Be thankful we even remembered to bring snacks for you forgetful brats! scolded Daichi sternly.

Hinata gingerly brings himself back to life, dragging his aching bones and his pack to where most of the first years converged purely out of a symbiotic survival instinct to band together against exploitative seniors. They were already angrily in a discussion about something, something that sounded much like plotting for the demise of Oikawa.

Or Daichi.

Or both.

"Do you know what they're feeding Goshiki right now?" Hinata seethes in a low voice, eyes darting around in alarm. "Fresh bread and crepes. Crepes. And what has Iwaizumi-san fed us so far?" he frowns down at the loot bag. "Fish crackers. Frog legs. For nutrition. Jesus Christ."

Kunimi grimaces, rubbing at his sore neck. "Welcome to the club."

"Have they always been this insufferable?" groans Tsukishima, angrily munching on a fish cracker.

"Oikawa? Yes," Kunimi replies. "Iwaizumi? Also yes." 

"Oikawa-san is usually nicer," Kindaichi offers, breaking off a piece of a protein bar he snuck into his pants that morning to split with Kageyama and Yamaguchi. "But Iwaizumi-san is a dictator, yes."

"Can confirm," Kageyama adds, after mumbling his thanks.

"Shut up!" Tsukishima hisses, yanking his share of the snack and shoving it in his mouth. "They basically pamper you!"

Kageyama points to himself incredulously. "M-me?" he stammers. "Daichi wouldn't give me another blanket because he told me children in third world countries didn't even have a roof over their heads and to not be so selfish, Kageyama. We raised you better than this, Kageyama," he mimes hotly. "And I'm the spoiled one?!"

Now it was Hinata's time to be annoyed. "Remind me again who was it that Oikawa-san made sure to get extra servings of rice last night."

Yamaguchi was only more than happy to pile on. "And who Iwaizumi-san made sure got warm water for his bath."

Kindaichi, surprisingly, also joins in. "And who warned me and Kunimi a day before the trip to be nice to Kageyama."

"Can confirm," is all Kunimi says, stealing Kindaichi’s insect repellant spray from Hinata's pack.

-

"A little more to the left, Kunimi."

...

"More."

...

"More."

...

"Are you an athlete or what? Tilt further and higher than that! More!"

...

"Daichi-san," Kunimi starts slowly, struggling to hold up the fishing pole that was already struggling to break with how brittle it was. Behind them he can hear Oikawa and Iwaizumi using far less harsher words to Kageyama and Hinata.

"This," he croaks out, "is my more."

They were somewhere by the open river, honest to gods fishing for their keep because someone—aka Iwaizumi—got it inside Daichi's and Suga's heads that real men should earn their keep and not wait to be fed. Nevermind all of them were literal minors and had literal permission slips signed to delegate these seniors with their lives in the event something should happen. Nevermind all of it was legally binding. Nevermind the second years didn't even bat an eye as soon as Iwaizumi got the fishing poles and worms out, apparently already expecting this method of torture from the previous year.

Tsukishima of course put up a riot.

He sputtered out and about as he rallied for the perfectly good rations they had back at the campsite and even volunteering himself for cooking duty if that was the problem. Makki and Mattsun were only too happy to tug him along to the deepest end of the waters, hunking him down and forcing him to wield the longest fishing pole they had. Might as well use that height for somethin', Makki quipped, Rather than just bitchin' and moanin'. Yamaguchi was tasked with the gruesome chore of feeding the live worms to his bait, his features squeamish and disgusted. Y-you can do it, Tsukki! 

"Ease up on him a little, Daichi," Suga teases some ways near them, helping Kindaichi keep a line steady.

"I will if he would just tilt to the left," Daichi warns, arms impatiently pointing to the side. Kunimi groans again, digging up some of his reserves to wield the stubborn line that wasn't budging this way and that. "It's really not moving!"

"You're just not tilting hard enough," demands Daichi.

"I am!" cries Kunimi, a bead of sweat trailing down his jaw. 

"More!" barks Daichi, insistent. "Unless you're okay with Kindaichi one-upping you?"

Kunimi's head snaps to Kindaichi, who was raising about a 15-inch slapjack hooked to his pole, along with the world's most shit-eating grin he wants to wipe off. Suga was beaming up at him proudly and yelling out his accomplishment for all of them to see and hear. Cries of congratulations and envy are volleyed throughout the stream. He sees foam rise out of Kageyama's ears as he huffed and rolled on his line even more fervently, an amused Iwaizumi telling him to go slowly and Oikawa taunting Hinata to do the same. 

"Let this be a lesson to you boys," Suga jeers across the field. "If you have a good mentor, the rest will follow!"

All the third years lock eyes.

They dine on the entire sea that night.

-

The training camp ends with an old-fashioned bbq party.

Iwaizumi was on the grill with Daichi and Asahi, moving in a routine that’s far smoother and more amicable than the rough patch they started with. They find out Iwaizumi is particularly adept at manning the grill and flipping the meat over, all grunt work and being the only one of the two who actually followed through with his verbal warnings to any of the first years who kept trying to sneak an early bite. 

I wouldn't do that if I were you, he warned to a stunned Yamaguchi. Unless you want this knife aimed somewhere lower.

Daichi, in charge of seasoning and Asahi with prepping, deft and nimble hands making quick work of both; don't even bat an eye when they see Iwaizumi set aside three plates he starts unceremoniously piling up with the leaner portions of meat.

Kunimi and Kindaichi are a given—Daichi pleasantly surprised to see him gentle somehow where they are concerned—but it's Kageyama who still comes as a surprise.

"Are they related or something?" Asahi whispers, oiling some of the grill grates. "Maybe cousins? Kageyama does look a little like him."

Daichi shakes his head, rubbing a thin layer of salt and pepper to a piece of chicken thigh. "I don't think so," he admits. "Just former teammates, I think."

Asahi nods along. "And Oikawa?"

"What about him?" pipes Iwaizumi, having overheard part of their conversation as he transfers some leftover charcoal Hinata brought to the pile. "What about Oikawa?"

Asahi flushes a little. "Oh," he says. "It's just that he's — well —"

Iwaizumi gestures for him to go on.

"He seems—" Asahi continues, unsurely. "I don't know. Like he wants to both kill Kageyama in his sleep and feed him until he fattens up like one of those kids from Hansel and Gretel."

Daichi suppresses a laugh.

Iwaizumi just looks amused. "Actually," he surmises. "I think you got everything right. Definitely the feeding part, at least. It’s why he’s threatened me to set aside all the leg parts for Kageyama since this morning,” he chuckles. “But we're working on the killing part."

Everyone is only too happy to be fed normal food for once.

The sun was just shy of setting around the campsite, hues of golden orange and pale yellow streaking the place in a healthy, lovely glow. The sounds of birds chirping and flitting about the pine trees are a welcome break from all the yelling, the wind at just the right temperature to be breezy and warm.

Hinata, especially, is overjoyed with all of it. "Waaa!" he gushes, all bright eyes looking up at Iwaizumi who handed him his plate he filled with extra enoki mushrooms. "This looks soooo good, Iwaizumi-san!"

Iwaizumi blushes, looking away. "R-right," he stammers. "Yes. Um. Eat—well, then."

At his side, he can feel Suga eyeing him knowingly. "You can say it," he says, setting up the drinks. "Hinata is very cute and will feed your senpai ego well."

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” mumbles Iwaizumi, assembling the next plate.

The rest of the afternoon goes swimmingly. The sounds of easy laughter and open conversation flowing seamlessly throughout, seniors and juniors alike mingling. Asahi manages to hold a conversation with Makki and Mattsun that doesn't end with him sweating buckets at potentially overstepping anything he says, the Seijoh third years only too happy to know he was also a fan of the Sendai Frogs and was he looking to go pro after highschool, they wonder? 

Tanaka and Noya were in a heated discussion with Yahaba and Kyotani, both parties having very spirited opinions on whether Kubota Sayu or Fujino Ryoko were the representatives of 2000s actresses for Nippon cinema. Daichi was giving even more pointers to Kunimi about fishing, Kindaichi not even bothering to hide he was listening in and Suga only too happy to use his distraction as a way to funnel more meat into his plate.

Oikawa was busy fussing over Kageyama in his usual roundabout way, frowning down at the lack of vegetables in his plate and blaming Iwaizumi for sabotaging the child's health intentionally. I know he's our rival and everything, Iwa-chan , Oikawa chides. But doesn't he deserve nutrition too? Iwaizumi gave him an amused look, perhaps knowingly, Oikawa not budging an inch. Iwaizumi relents and goes back to fetch an entire plate full of hijiki seaweeds and cucumbers and seasoned radishes.

Kageyama flushed at all the food and attention, but where those two were concerned, he's long since learned it was best to just let them have their way unless they argue and make it everyone's problem. Again.

Towards the end it's Daichi who approaches Oikawa first, two cups of yuzu in hand. "Think we did okay?" 

Oikawa looks over at him, smiling in a skittish way, before accepting the drink. "I think," he takes a sip. "We did better than okay."

"Stellar endorsement from The Great King," Daichi teases. "Want to do it all over again next year?"

"There won't be a next year," Oikawa reminds him, an inflexion of something to his tone.

"Ah," Daichi blinks, and then: "Right."

Oikawa bumps shoulders with him. "But there's still be the next spring, and summer, and winter."

"Tsukishima might actually kill me if I even suggest we do something like this out in the cold," Daichi is quick to stop him. "Like actually kill me this time I think."

"Kageyama doesn't do well during winters either," Oikawa finds himself saying almost reflexively.

Daichi catches on, because of course he does. "Right," he says, smirking knowingly. “Of course.”

Oikawa blinks, unable to look at him. "R-right," he coughs awkwardly, before gesturing to the rest of the crowd. "Well then. Just as long as you stop threatening to make fishermen out of my players, I guess we can clear our schedule for you."

"And just as long as you stop trying to claim my first years as yours," Daichi's spread grins wider. "Then we would be more than happy to do this with you all over again, Oikawa-san."