#because of that I’m dealing with a really bad flare up

[nezuscribe]

arguing with arranged!gojo is difficult because he’s not used to arguing with women and you’re not used to arguing period.

it rarely happens, but when it does it gets really heated between the two of you. you pace around your room, huffing as gojo stands there with his arms crossed, nose flaring.

like that one time he found out that one of the new guards the brought in from the west was somebody you used to fool around with.

yeah that was bad.

“why do you even care!” you snap at him, and he can’t find a plausible reason aside from the fact that he was purely jealous.

this guard that they’d brought in from the west, much to your shock, was somebody you used to see in the late hours of the night. you never did anything frisky, just some shared kisses here and there.

but the moment you saw him, your whole demeanor changed. and gojo could tell. it took a bit of picking and prodding (which gojo is great at) but you eventually told him the story.

and he was not excited to hear it.

“i want him gone,” he tells you and you roll your eyes, shrugging indefinitely.

“fine,” you throw your arms up, “get him out. but what about those girls? you think i don’t want them gone whenever we walk into one of those balls or those dinners? when i see the way they look at you? you think that’s easy for me?”

“it’s different,” his tone is unwavering and cold.

you scoff, shaking your head in dismay.

“what? what’s so different? that i kissed him? big deal!” you feel like you want to cry and yell and jump and scream at the same time.

because it was different. for you. because the men didn’t seem to care that gojo had a new wife, or that he cared for her. but the ladies did. they gossiped in frenzied tones, batted their eyelashes at him even more as if that could cast him away from your spell.

so you didn’t know why he cared so much about this one man. why it should matter to him when he’s had far, far more experiences than you.

you felt hurt that he doubted you, angered with his hypocrisy, and tired from spending the entire day ignoring each other.

“this is going nowhere,” you mutter eventually, picking up your pillow as his eyes drop to your hands, “i’m sleeping somewhere else.”

“what-”

“and don’t follow me,” you bite out, not even glancing behind your shoulder as you begin to sulk out of your shared bedroom to your old one all across the estate.

and sure, maybe you’re not being entirely fair. there’s been some petty arguments when he bumps into one of his old girls, but it didn’t hurt nonetheless when he accused you of lying, when the conversation of your old romantic life was just never brought up.

you wipe at the stray tears on your cheek as you slug down the stairs, sniffling to yourself as you curse your husband to hell and back, when a force unlike any other picks you up from behind.

“what?” you squeal, your body manicured over a strong shoulder, your legs near his torso, your eyes facing his back as you kick at him, “let me go, i’m going to fall!”

“don’t make me laugh,” gojo murmured, one strong arm around your waist, the other around your thighs as he hauls you back up the stairs.

“i told you not to follow me,” you grumble, pinching his back but he doesn’t react.

“you’re funny if you think i’ll let you sleep alone.”

your brows furrow, feeling the need to kick him, but also not wanting him to drop you.

it doesn’t take long for him to reach your bedroom, opening the door with his free hand (unbridled strength if the greatest warrior of the north meant he could pick you up with just one hand) and plops you back on the mattress.

you prop yourself up on your elbows, looking away, hoping he can’t see the tear marks.

because it did hurt. his words hurt you. they cut deep. and he notices, his gaze softening slightly.

“don’t cry,” he whispers, leaning down to trace your tears away but you swat his hand off of your face.

“then don’t make me cry,” you say with a heavy sigh, siting upwards, back slightly hunched.

you take a deep breath, rubbing at your eyes as you glance upwards at him. it’s been a while since the two of you had fought, and the first time over something serious, and he looks awful.

“i don’t judge you for being with those girls,” you start with a heavy whisper, “you did what you could to stay sane. but don’t judge me for doing the same.”

gojo breathes deeply through his nose, blinking.

“you’re right,” he says after a heavy second, causing you too look up in confusion.

he nods again, his big hand cup your jaw, his thumb rubbing your cheek as he catches the stray tear from the corner of your eye.

“you’re right and i’m sorry,” he repeats, and you’ve never had somebody agree with you before, “i just…saw the way he looks at you and…i didn’t like it.”

you offer him a small nod.

“but he just looked at me,” you shift so that your resting on your haunches, hands in your lap. he towers over you, one hand going to cradle the back of your head.

gojo shrugs, like he can’t put it into comprehensible words how he felt when that guard looked at you with hunger in his eyes. how only he was allowed to look at you with such starvation.

“i didn’t like it,” he can only repeat, and you know he struggles with his emotions, spent years hiding them so that they wouldn’t become his weakness.

“do you want to sleep?” he finally asks you, and you slowly blink, trying to hide the tiredness from your face.

“i’ll still be here when you wake up,” he offers and you crack a small smile, trying to hide it from him.

but your smile drops as you think, eyes darting up to his.

“it’s okay to not like something, and it’s okay to feel angry that you don’t. but don’t ever, ever, make me feel like that again because of it.”

your stare is unwavering, and he feels a certain sense of pride in seeing that. and gojo nods, one steady movement as he drops down to his knees, trying to be level with your gaze.

“you have my full authority to strike me down if i do,” he promises, his hands cupping your face, his words serious but you can’t help but giggle.

“good,” you murmur, tugging slightly harshly on some of the strands of his hair as he winces, pushing you back onto the bed with the sheer force of his body, climbing up into you as he hold you close to him.

you let out another laugh as he acts like a bear cub, not wanting to move an inch away from your warmth as he cuddles into you, trying to finish his massive size compared to you.

the two of you laid in silence, a comfortable one, as he laid his head in your chest, hearing the steady rhythm of your heart.

“i am sorry,” he whispers, craning his neck to look up at you as he rests his chin on your sternum, “i’m sorry.” he says again, his words barely above a sound.

you blink again, moving some of the hair away from his face as you observe his sorrowful features.

“i know,” you whisper back.

gojo finds your hands, interweaving your fingers together, heart tugging when he feels your ring against his skin.

he brings the finger to his lips, pressing a soft kiss against the ring as you watch him silently. no other words needed to be said, no words left unspoken as he pulls you into his chest.

because no woman would amount to a sliver of you. and no man would amount to a morsel of him.

[hangmanssunnies]

Tonight’s got me feeling so small, I think I could fit into one of those pockets they put on the front of shirts.

[danielnelsen]

always fun to remind myself of the side effects of my thyroid meds

[no-144444]

guilt tripping- o.piastri

summary: oscar asks something of you that you know you can't do. you do it anyway and it ends in you two almost breaking up. almost.

pairing: oscar piastri x fem! chronic illness! reader

a/n: hey yall, I just broke two ribs (lol) and got diagnosed with a chronic illness (lmao) so I might not be posting as frequently- just dealing with it physically and mentally so yah 😹

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“I don’t know if I can go,” you sighed, feeling even worse. 

“That’s alright,” he assured you, but you could hear the way his excitement depleted and his mood lowered. 

“M-maybe I can work something out, I don’t want to leave you alone,” your guilt grew everyday, this wasn’t healthy for either of you. 

“I don’t want you over-exerting yourself,” he spoke softly into the phone. “I’ll just ask mum if she has any friends that want to go or something. She always brings a million people with her.”

“I don’t want to leave you hanging Oscar. Melbourne is a big race. I’d be happy to come over like a week before, and then come to the race once I’ve had a few days to heal,” you bargained. A 22 hour connecting flight was not something you’d ever wanted to do. You couldn’t do it. You knew the pain would be too bad, yet you still stood there, offering it anyway. “And then I’d come for the race on Sunday, or just small bits on all the days.”

“Really?” his voice picked up, excited now. “You’re sure?”

“I’m sure Osc, I love seeing you race,” your smile was more of a grimace than anything, but still, the guilt in your chest lessened as you listened to Oscar speak animatedly about the race weekend, while your anxiety ran through the roof. You couldn’t do all the things he wanted you to do, you never could. This had been a problem at the beginning of your relationship, every time he’d plan a date that wasn’t dinner or a movie, you’d have to break the news that a 15 kilometre hike wasn’t something you’d be able to do on a whim. Things like that took planning, physio, and preparation. Your chronic illness was no joke, and had limited you since you were a teenager. In the past few years he’d gotten much better at everything, from helping you with your physio exercises, attending pilates classes with you, knowing what to do on bad pain days, and always looking out for you in public. You knew he was just getting away with himself, and you didn't want to disappoint, so you agreed to it all, hoping against hope that it wouldn’t be a bad week of pain or flare-ups wise. 

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You got into Melbourne and sobbed when you got in the car. Thankfully, it was Hattie picking you up, so she just held your hand as you silently cried, the joint and too much to bear. You went straight to bed as Hattie explained to the rest of the house that you were exhausted, and Oscar took it at face value. You usually get extremely tired after long days, and you’d just had a 22-hour day of travel. 

“I’ll go check on her-” he started, desperate to see you but Hattie cut him off. 

“NO!” she squeaked, trying to not sound suspicious. Oscar raised an eyebrow. “She’s really tired and she’s already gone to sleep.”

“Yeah, well I’m tired so I’m going to bed,” he explained, stretching then yawning. 

“Osc,” Hattie sighed, knowing she had to tell him. “She’s not… alright. She can’t do 22 hour travel days like you or I can. She has Lupus and she’s still trying to figure out her medication, so it hurts all the time. She cried from the airport to here, all to support you because you asked her to, and she feels guilty every single time she can’t say yes. She’s done real damage to herself by coming here. I want you to understand that, do you understand that?” 

Oscar nodded, because the other option was breaking down into tears. Yes, he’d felt guilty that he couldn’t be there to take care of you while travelling, and he knew he was asking a lot of you when he asked. The guilt settled deep in his stomach and made him nauseous, but still he continued on to his bedroom where you were sleeping peacefully. He could see the puffy eyes, the red nose, the open bottles of medication on the nightstand. He wrapped an arm around your waist, another in your hair and pulled you as close as possible, whispering teary sorrys into your ear. 

When you woke up the next morning, you knew what you had to do. This wasn’t fair on either of you, and you needed to make a change. You quickly (but silently) got up, and started to leave the room, but Oscar grabbed ahold of your hand before you could leave. 

“Please don’t sneak out on me,” he begged, sitting up. He looked wrecked, puffy eyes, red rose- had he been crying? God, had you made him cry? 

“Osc, what’s wrong?” you asked, concern clear as day on your face as you cupped his face with your hands.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “I knew I was asking too much when I asked you to come here, I’m so sorry.”

Your heart tightened in your chest. “Osc, I’m alright, I was just tired last night and-”

“Hattie told me,” his voice was deep, deeper than usual, and he pressed a gentle kiss to your hand. “And I’m so sorry.”

“Osc, I could’ve said no if I didn’t think I was able for it,” you tried to reassure him but he shook his head. 

“Y/n, you did say no and I didn’t take it as an answer,” he scoffed. 

You were stunned into silence. “I think we need to have a talk about us, Osc.”

He nodded, taking your hands in his. 

“This isn’t fair on you. I know I can't control my illness, and neither can you. It sucks, but it’s a fact. I wish I could be there for every single race and cheer you on with the other girls, but I can’t. It’s not in the cards for me right now, and I don’t know when it will be. Oscar, I love you so much, and you’ve been with me through everything and I know you deserve someone who can always be there for you, and I’m not that person right now. I love you but I know it’s not enough,” You finally looked at him and he was biting his lip as tears streamed down his cheeks. “I’m sorry.”

He shook his head and stood up, dropping your hands as he paced his bedroom. “You know how much I love you, don’t you?” he asked and you nodded as you held back more tears. “So you know that I still feel your support even when we’re in different time zones or on different continents, right? You know that I value you being in as little pain as possible more than being at the barricade after a race, right? You know that I fucking love you more than I love racing, right? Y/n, I’ve been here the entire time, since we were 14 years old. You’re the reason I get in the car, you make me better, all the time it’s just you. I plan on being with you for my whole life, Y/n. I want to be there for everything. I plan to sit there through every appointment about medication until you find the one that actually helps you, I plan on being there for every day where you don’t feel up to it, I plan on being there for you, always. I never want to let go of you, and yeah, it is nice to be able to see you after a race, and I know that because fucking facetime exists. If you still want to break up because I fucked up by asking you to come here, go ahead, but don’t ever think that I’m without because I’m with you. I am so in love with you, Y/n. I mean it. I want to marry you one day, I want a family with you, I want to be old with you so we get to reminisce on the good ol’ days and make some more while we have time. ‘The good ol’ days’ will be the days I spend with you. More than any race win, more than any trophy, or than anything. My favourite part about a race weekend is coming home because I know no matter what my result was, you’ll be there with open arms, loving me anyways. You’re more than enough for me.”

You crossed the room and wrapped your arms around him, crying into his hoodie as he held you. “I love you too.”

After a few moments of both of you calming down, he finally spoke. “Can you forgive me for being such an asshole?” he asked, wiping his eyes. 

You nodded, a small smile on your face. “I can, can you forgive me for being such an idiot?”

He chuckled. “You’re no idiot,” he picked you up and gently placed you back on the bed lying beside you. “I love you.” 

“I love you too.”

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navigation for my blog :) (masterlist)

[spiderlilyserendipity]

Responsibility 🔞🖤

**Minors DNI! This is content for adults only! To read my SFW works, please see my masterlist.**

Summary: You’ve always had a hard time asking for help when you need it, and it doesn’t seem to get better as time goes by. Luckily for you, Hoseok knows you well enough to know when you need pampering.

Tags: Dom!Hoseok, Sub!Y/N, minimal plot, established relationship, dollification, safe words established, she calls him owner, PRAISE!!!!!, nonverbal sub space, oral (m. recieving), multiple orgasms (f. recieving), breeding kink (I didn't even mean to put it in this fic I swear but I can't fucking stop myself anymore send help), aftercare!!!, light angst (oopsie ✨), fluff at the end.

Warnings: Unprotected sex (don’t do that obviously lol)

W/C: 3970 (3.9K)

A/N: Hello everyone!! Sorry I disappeared once again, I just realized the last time I posted here was in NOVEMBER???? For the amount of BTS x Y/N writing I do it doesn't add up... I have been in a veryyyy big writer’s slump ALTHOUGH I have made some really good progress with a bigger series I hope to get out to you guys soon! These last few weeks have been a bit rough for me, so here is something a bit chiller with my beloved Dom!Hoseok x Y/N.

You’re in one of those moods again where everything feels too much.

It’s not necessarily your fault, but you’ve always had a hard time asking for help when you need it, and it doesn’t seem to get better as time goes by. You’ve known this about yourself for a long time, but you can’t help but get trapped in it. 

It starts for you with a big project at work. You only volunteered to help out because no one else did, and it led to you being given more responsibility than your payroll even calls for. Initially, you tried to back out of it and make excuses, but your boss pushed forward with his own agenda and you never could. Now, you’re stuck doing work that isn’t really even yours without extra pay and with significantly more stress.

You’ve regretted it since the start, but you thought you’d be fine until today. 

Today, you made a small mistake and your boss chewed you out for it in front of everyone. It wasn’t even a big deal, but your boss was in a bad mood to begin with and you just happened to be the person in the line of fire. But that small incident flared up something inside you—a deeply rooted fear of not being good enough.

And now, you find yourself plummeting down a rabbit hole of negative self-talk that really has nothing to do with work or anyone else. It has to do with you. 

“What are you doing spacing out?” Hoseok’s laugh jolts you out of your thoughts. You look away from the TV, where your boyfriend is smiling warmly down at you. “Had a long day at work?”

You purse your lips. You don’t really want to get into it. It’s a bad habit, but you don’t like to drag Hoseok into your negativity. He has enough stress at his own job. “No, just tired.” You lie, getting off the couch.

“Y/N.” Hoseok says your name, wrapping a hand around your wrist. His voice is low, worried. You avoid his eyes. “What is it, sweetheart?”

“Nothing, I’m just tired.” You lie again, but you know Hoseok can see right through you. Of course he can, after all these years together.

You take a quick shower in the ensuite bathroom of your shared bedroom, then step out and run yourself a bath as a treat after a long day. You smile to yourself at the array of different bath bombs Hoseok keeps stocked for you, picking out one with a candy-like scent for tonight. 

You drop the bath bomb in the water, watching it fizz and turn the water a shimmery baby pink. You step back in, sinking down into the hot water with a sigh. It’s not enough to take away the negative thoughts in your head, but it does take the edge off. 

You’re almost dozing off in the bath when the bathroom door opens. Hoseok steps inside, then closes the door behind him. “That smells so good.” He comments, taking a seat on the closed toilet lid beside you. 

You smile. “Yeah.”

The air is still slightly tense between you. Hoseok watches your face for a moment, then smiles. “This scent is nice, isn’t it? I’m glad I listened to the salesperson.” He asks, rolling up his sleeves. You wonder what he’s doing when he leans in and begins to massage your shoulders. “You’re too tense, though.” He comments under his breath.

You look away. With one small touch, Hoseok breaks down your walls. “Don’t deserve it.” You mumble. 

“Don’t deserve what, sweetheart?” Hoseok asks gently, his thumbs now working into the dips of your collarbone.

You shake your head, feeling overwhelmed. “Everything. Don’t deserve your touch.”

“Is that so?” Hoseok asks in a low, patient voice that sends heat to your core. You know exactly what he’s doing, and although you want it, you can’t let yourself have it. You try to push away, to reach for the tub’s stopper and drain the bath away. But Hoseok stops you with a firm hand over your wrist. “I’m not done yet, sweetheart.” He warns you gently, pushing you back against the tub.

Hoseok’s eyes flicker down to your cleavage, but he doesn’t touch you there yet. He can still see the hesitance in your eyes, the self-doubt that makes you fear submission to him. “It seems like you have a lot of thoughts in your head right now. Would you like me to give you a break, to let me do all the thinking? And you get to relax, just like a pretty little doll?” He purrs, causing you to rub your thighs together. 

In the low light, Hoseok’s eyes glint with satisfaction at the effect his words have on you. “Oh, you would like that. Unfortunately I need to hear a special word before I can do that. Does my pretty girl remember what that word is?”

“Candy.” You murmur. 

Hoseok beams, running a hand through your hair. “Good girl.” He emphasizes, making the fire in your belly burn brighter. “What a gorgeous doll I own.”

You gasp softly as Hoseok’s hands move down to cup your breasts, toying with your nipples. “Owner.” You whisper.

“Yes, doll?” Hoseok replies easily, continuing to rub the now-hard nubs. 

“It’s cold.” You whisper. By now, the hot water has become lukewarm and you’re starting to get chilly. Hoseok hums, leaning in to kiss your breasts. 

“Is that right?” He coos at you. His hands move down your torso, then part your thighs. You whimper as Hoseok plays with your clit, then drags a finger along your entrance. “Hmm…Feels nice and warm here though.” Hoseok makes an expression of fake-confusion, then slides a finger inside. You whine, gripping his forearm with both of your hands. 

Hoseok chuckles, then kisses your forehead. He cups your mound, looking directly at you as he does it. “I don’t think I want to get my clothes wet. Let’s get you up and dressed.”

With that, Hoseok pulls the stopper. You watch the water drain down, until you’re left sitting in the empty tub. Hoseok stands, then puts a hand under your chin, guiding you to stand. His eyes move down your naked body, full of controlled lust. He has you step out of the tub, then picks a towel off the shelf. “So wet.” He chides, taking your hand in his and drying each finger diligently. You watch him as he carefully works his way up your arm, then dries your armpit for you. He repeats the motion on the other side. 

Then, Hoseok pushes your chin up, expecting you to look up. You obey. He dries off your neck, then your collarbones. You whine as he takes his time with your breasts, thumbing at them through the towel. “So, so wet.” Hoseok chides, then pinches one nipple. “This is why pretty things like you are hard work. If owner forgets to take good care of you, you become so messy. Isn’t that right, doll?”

“Yes, owner.” You murmur.

Hoseok lightly guides your chin down, allowing you to look at him again. “But messy girls are fun, too, because then owner has fun cleaning you and setting you straight.” He says, forcing your thighs apart to dry off your inner thighs. You purse your lips as he takes his sweet time drying your thighs and calves. Hoseok smiles up at you as he wipes off your feet. “It’s been so long since I got you a mani-pedi. I should do that, then take you out and get you some outfits. We can stop by a jewellery store, too. TIffany’s? No, maybe Cartier would be better.”

You listen quietly as Hoseok talks to himself, appraising your body as he does. You’re not meant to voice your opinion for things like this—you’re meant to take what he gives you. You let Hoseok turn you around, then begin wiping down your back. It’s mindless, but that’s the point. To submit, to gratefully take what you’re given. But you can’t help the nagging voice in your mind. “Don’t deserve it.” You mumble. Hoseok’s hands pause.

Hoseok scoffs. “How can a doll know what their worth is? What, are you some kind of AI?” He comments, continuing to work at you. 

“Deserve punishment.” You mumble. “I’m bad.”

Hoseok hums as if he agrees, then puts a hand on your ass. You flinch and he notices. “Do you think I’d play with a bad doll?” Hoseok whispers, his voice dangerous in your ear. 

You answer immediately. “No, owner.”

“That’s right!” He says cheerfully, turning you back around. Taking your face in one hand, Hoseok grins at you, but warning flashes in his eyes. “My doll doesn’t get punished. My doll is a good girl who listens and takes what I give her. Has owner been slacking in pampering his doll that she’s forgotten who she belongs to?”

“No, owner.” You repeat. 

Hoseok looks displeased. You feel the urge to cry, hating his displeasure. You want to be good, but you don’t feel good enough!

Hoseok takes your hand and guides you into the ensuite closet. Still naked, you stand with your hands clasped as Hoseok (still fully dressed) opens a bag at the back of the closet, one you’ve never seen before. He pulls out two pieces of lingerie—one is a simple pair of white silk panties, and the other is a white, translucent babydoll with a small white bow in the middle. Without asking if you like it, Hoseok comes over to you and lifts you up onto the island in the closet. He puts the panties on you first, then the top. “So pretty.” He says, then rubs your cheek proudly. You preen at his touch.

Hoseok brings you to the bedroom next, sitting you down in front of your vanity. He hums to himself as he picks up your comb and brushes your hair. He decides to do a French braid tonight, then ties it in place with a little bow hair tie at the bottom. You both know it won’t look like that soon. “Such a pretty thing.” He praises you, eyes boring on you in the mirror. He taps your lips once, and you open your mouth. Hoseok spits in your mouth, then settles a hand on your throat. “Swallow.” He orders, then beams as he feels your throat bob from swallowing.

The dom reaches between your legs again, moving aside your underwear as he slips a finger into you again. By now, you’re much wetter. Hoseok laughs, then holds your face in one hand, forcing you to look at yourself in the mirror. You watch your own helpless face as your dom fingers you with amusement on his face. “So weak. Is this all you can take?”

“Owner, owner—” You whimper, putting a hand on Hoseok’s arm as he slips another finger inside. 

“What, now you remember who owns you?” Hoseok asks, reaching down with his free hand to rub at your clit. He laughs at your fucked out face. “Dolls can’t come without permission. You should know that by now, sweetheart.”

“Owner, please, please let me come, please—” You plead.

“Five. Four.” Hoseok counts you down. You bite your lip, trying to hold back. “Three, two, one, now.” 

Your whole body shakes as Hoseok works you through your orgasm. You feel come drip out of you, wetting your panties and the chair underneath you. But you don’t care at all, not with Hoseok murmuring praises in your ear. “What an obedient little cunt, just like I trained you. It’s like you were made to belong to me.”

You whine. Hoseok has you stand up, turning you half-sideways. You look in the mirror as the dom runs his clean hand down your hair gently, then rubs both hands over your hips. You breathe in sharply as you meet Hoseok’s eyes. He smirks, then digs his hands into your asscheeks, slightly spreading you. “What a messy girl. Only took two fingers and you’re all shiny down here.” He laughs, running a finger over your inner thigh, where your pre-come coats the skin. 

“Owner.” You mumble against Hoseok’s collarbone. 

He beams. “Yes, my doll?”

You both know what you want, but you can’t bring yourself to ask for it. It’s not your place to ask him to fuck you, since you’re meant to let him do as he pleases. So instead, you just press yourself in against him, placing your cheek against his collarbone. Hoseok knows what you mean without saying it. He presses a kiss to your hair, then presents his left hand—still covered by your juices—to your mouth and sticks his thumb in. You suck obediently, looking directly at your dom. “Such a useful mouth.” He purrs. You let out a small sound at his praise. Hoseok withdraws his thumb, then switches to give you his index and middle fingers. As you do that, the dom meticulously straightens your hair, ensuring not a hair is out of place. Finally, he gives you his ring and pinky finger to lick. You don’t miss the emerald and diamond ring on his ring finger—ensuring to get your juices out of every crevice around the ring. Hoseok’s jaw tightens at the sight. 

The dom intertwines your hands, then brings you over to the bed. Using his free hand, he pulls back the covers, then guides you under. You watch Hoseok grab the TV remotes and return. You glance at the hard member in Hoseok’s pants as he sits in bed next to you. Knowing what you’re thinking, Hoseok pulls his pants and underwear down in one go—revealing the hard, leaking member. “I wonder if that movie is out yet…” Hoseok says to no one in particular, pretending to be interested in finding some movie. Without saying a word, Hoseok entangles a hand in your hair, guiding you down toward his member under the covers. Your breath sharpens at the feeling of being used to pleasure him as he watches a movie, just a little thing for him to control.

You start to lick from your position at his side, but Hoseok frowns at you. Your eyes widen. Have you done something wrong? “Hmm…” He says, then reaches down and hooks a finger into the hip part of your panties. Using them, he pulls you down so you’re sitting on his calves. He lets go, then returns the hand to your hair. For added effect, he tucks the covers in around you, leaving just your head up for you to suck him off. You whimper, loving the feeling. You’re his toy, his doll. 

You begin sucking Hoseok off, doing your absolute best to please him as you work at him with your mouth and cup his balls with your hands. Hoseok runs a hand through your hair gently, idly, like he’s barely paying attention when you know he couldn’t care less about what’s on screen. Even like this, you know you’re his priority. 

You lick the slit of his member and Hoseok hisses. “Oh, that’s it.” He praises you, tightening the hand in your hair slightly. “What a good girl. So useful.”

You moan, accidentally pressing yourself down against his calf. Hoseok notices immediately. “Is my doll getting restless? Is me playing with your mouth not enough?”

“No, owner. I-I’m grateful.” You protest weakly. 

Hoseok’s eyes glint dangerously. “Yeah? Then why are you rubbing yourself against my leg like a puppy in heat?” He sits you up, bringing you onto his lap. You purse your lips as Hoseok feels how wet you are again with his hand. “Good girls don’t hide their feelings, sweetheart. You know that.”

“Yes, owner.” You say, looking at him through your lashes. 

Hoseok tsks. He slots his thigh between your legs. You sigh as he pushes up against you, loving the feeling of his hot skin against your aching clit. “If it feels good, you need to show me, sweetheart. Now, look at me and show me how good it feels. And don’t look away.” He orders. You swallow. Hoseok settles a hand to the back of your neck, holding you firmly. You slowly begin rubbing yourself against his thigh, looking directly at your dom. Hoseok watches you intently, ignoring the movie playing in the background. The lust in his eyes is illuminated by the changing colours from the screen. 

Your desperation mounts embarrassingly fast with Hoseok watching you rub yourself against him. Knowing that, Hoseok taps your chin, indicating for you to open your mouth. You take his thumb in your mouth, sucking as best as you can but you’re not consistent—the seal you form around his thumb is broken all too often by the moans and sighs you let out. Hoseok smirks at that, knowing you can’t handle it. “Suck properly.” He orders. You swallow, then wrap your lips properly around his thumb. “That’s it. Who’s my good little slut?” Hoseok asks.

You whine, grinding faster. “Is it you?” He teases. “Hmm…I thought my doll knew how to come when I told her though. Let’s see. Come now.”

With a single order, you get your release. Your whole body shakes, and Hoseok pulls you in close. He wraps his arms around you, using one hand to cup the back of your head as you shake from your orgasm. “So obedient. Just like I trained you. I’m so proud of you, sweetheart.”

“Thank you, thank you.” You chant, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. You’re almost crying at this point, feeling so taken care of and loved. “So grateful. Thank you, owner.”

Hoseok pulls back slightly, cupping your face in both of his hands. He kisses you, slow and passionate. “Can you handle more, baby?”

“Yes, owner.” You answer, feeling soft. Hoseok’s eyes sparkle. He knows that tone of your voice. You’re slipping further and further into your sub space, and it won’t be long until it’s hard for words to come out altogether. But Hoseok knows your body and your limits. He’ll give you exactly what he knows you can take.

“Go get your plug.” He orders. You crawl to the other side of the bed, reaching into the nightstand. Although the two of you have various toys, you know he means the small toy shaped like a teardrop with a little gem at the flared end. You bring it to him, presenting it with both hands. Hoseok takes it, then guides you to lay down. You lay back, feeling loved and safe. Hoseok will take care of you. He always does. Hoseok leans over you. “Show me your colours.” He says, knowing words are starting to slip away from you already. You squeeze Hoseok’s shoulder once to indicate green, twice for yellow, and three times for red. Hoseok kisses your forehead in praise. “What’s your colour right now?”

You squeeze once. “Such a good listener.” He praises you. He checks you’re ready, then slowly slides into you. You pant as he bottoms out, feeling full. 

“O-Owner.” Your voice comes out weak. “P-Please.”

“I know, sweetheart.” Hoseok reassures you. He allows you to wrap your arms around his shoulders, pressing your cheek against his shoulder. “I’ll take good care of you. Fill your womb with my seed.”

You clench around him. “P-Please.” Then, you whine into his ear. “B-Breed me, owner.”

Hoseok growls, planting his hands on either side of your waist. He begins to move slowly, but you know he’s holding himself back for you. “Yeah?” He asks. “Want me to get you pregnant, sweetheart? Take care of you, take responsibility?”

You moan at the idea of being safe and taken care of. For someone who always pushes herself too far, you know deep down you’d love that. And Hoseok knows it, too, even if you don’t know how to ask for it. He knows you. Soon, Hoseok’s thrusts become faster and faster, knowing you’ve adjusted enough for him. Your moans become louder, and the nails you dig into Hoseok’s skin start to leave deeper indents. Soon, you’re arching your back. Hoseok’s own hips start to stutter. He reaches for your hair, tangling a firm hand in it. You sigh happily at his firmness. “Almost there, sweetheart.” Hoseok promises, reaching down to rub your clit. “You can do it, baby. Ready? 3…2…1…Now.”

Your orgasm wracks through you again, making you shake a third time tonight. At the same time, hot seed fills you, making you feel insane with pleasure. Tears slip out of the corners of your eyes, landing on the pillow. Hoseok wipes your cheeks immediately, then pulls you in as he lays on top of you. You feel so safe with him both inside you and on top of you, sandwiched between him and the sheets.

“T-Thank you, thank you.” You repeat, digging your nails into Hoseok’s shoulders. “Thank you, owner. So grateful.”

“You’re welcome, baby.” Hoseok says, smiling at you. He runs a hand through his hair, pushing it back. Even though he doesn’t say it, you see the relief in Hoseok’s eyes as you finally smile sincerely tonight. You lay there for some time and catch your breath. You kiss and hold one another, feeling comfortable. Then, Hoseok slowly slides out of you. You shiver as the seed begins to slip out of you, but Hoseok guides it back in with the plug. You clench around it, feeling pleased. “That’s my girl. So proud of you, sweetheart.”

You lay peacefully as Hoseok gets up, leaving the room momentarily. He returns with a glass of water and two granola bars for you. You’re still quite far into your sub space, so words are a bit difficult for you right now. Knowing that, Hoseok just quietly helps you sit up and feeds you your snack. Once you’re done, he carefully helps you drink the water.

“Should we shower now?” Hoseok asks. You purse your lips, looking down at your intertwined hands. He laughs. “Okay. In twenty minutes then.”

You smile, letting Hoseok pull you back under the covers for some cuddles before shower time. “Sweetheart.” Hoseok says, hooking his chin over your shoulder as he spoons you. You hum. “Remember you don’t need to hide from me, okay? If anything is bothering you, you tell me. I won’t think you’re any less good at your job if you talk to me about it, I promise. And although I know you would never give up your passion, I want you to know you don’t have to work if you don’t want to.”

You blink, craning your head to look at your boyfriend. Hoseok (despite the blush on his face) looks resolute. “I’m not kidding when I say I’ll take responsibility for you. I really can take good care of you.”

You giggle. It feels like a proposal. “I know, Hoseokie.” You mumble, cuddling back against him. You sigh, closing your eyes against the pillow as Hoseok gently rubs a hand over your belly. “I love you.” You whisper.

“I love you too.” Hoseok presses another kiss in your hair. Just then, he glances at the clock. “Okay, twenty minutes over. Let’s go.” He says. You pout, but he just grins at you. “A deal’s a deal, baby. Come on, let me get you cleaned up so I can change the sheets.”

You pout, holding your arms up. Hoseok laughs, tipping his head back. “Actually, I change my mind. I don’t want such a spoiled wife.”

“Too bad.” You mumble with a smile as he scoops you up into his arms like a bride. By now, your headspace has worn off but you feel so soft and content. “You have to take responsibility for me.”

You and Hoseok laugh together as he carries you to the bathroom.

🖤🖤🖤

A/N: Thank you for reading! I'd like to thank the Academy and fucking 2022 Mama red carpet Hoseok for inspiring me to stay up and write this fic when I have work at 8 am (but just look at him AGHHHHHHHHH). Also, requests are open <333

[1d1195]

Ding - Round 3

Read Ding here | ~6.5k words

Warnings: scummy man appearance, angst involving the frustration/grief/sadness of the last part regarding her shitty experience with said scummy man, fluff

Summary: Harry wants to know what happened to Cupcake. She really isn't sure she wants to tell him. Until she has to.

From me: NEW DIVIDER BY @babegoals THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR YOUR CREATIVITY AND SUPPORT AND JUST EXISTING 💕

Harry was mad.

Fuming. He had thought about nothing else but seeing her for the last two months and now that he had seen her, he was pissed to see her at his self-defense class. He asked her the same question about ten times throughout the instruction. He was furious and irritated that everyone else needed his help (even though it was literally what he was being paid for) when all he wanted was to talk to her.

He was all for helping women feel empowered. But he was mad she needed it. He knew she was feisty. The fact that she was there said a lot in its own right. The way she bantered with him until three in the morning texting him the other night made him smile more than he could describe. It was flirty and sweet. But always had him guessing if she would suddenly stop messaging for one reason or another.

Someone like her needed someone—maybe even someone like Harry—to make sure nothing bad ever happened to her. And he knew. He knew why women went to self-defense classes. He had been teaching these classes since before he owned his own gym.

He knew.

"Why are y’here, Cupcake?" He asked gruffly. The other women nearby were all but forgotten. One was mid-sentence, asking to clarify something Louis had said. Harry was practically rude to just ignore her question in favor of his own.

“Umm... for self-defense,” she muttered trying to focus on Louis’ answer.

Harry didn’t want her banter right now. (As cute as it was to him, despite his irritation.) “Right. But usually everyone has a story that... convinces themselves t’sign up. So what’s your story?” He repeated.

He watched the way her cheeks warmed at his assessment, and she folded her arms protectively in front of her. Guarding herself. “That’s kind of personal, Harry.”

Once Harry’s anger took hold, it was hard to backtrack. “Listen,” he shook his head. The annoyance that clouded his eyes and covered his face was so obvious, she felt the slightest bit bad about interrupting his lesson with her own issues. “M’not good at this kind of thing, Cupcake. Being subtle. I punch people for a minimal living and work the rest of m’time here, teaching people how t’punch.”

Part of her wanted to break down and tell him. Because as much as she was willing to do this on her own, she was so scared. That nervousness made her feel even weaker, and she wanted to tell Harry, she realized. She wanted someone to know and to help her because this wasn’t something she wanted to deal with on her own—it was too much.

But she couldn’t do it right in the middle of a self-defense lesson, surrounded by strangers. “I’m here to learn how to punch,” her voice was even and final.

His nostrils flared and he stalked back to the front of the room, a trail of anger coming off him as he did. He wasn’t going to get anywhere with her.

The remainder of the lesson went by without incident on Harry’s part. He watched her the entire time. The way she flinched when they practiced moves made him nauseous. But he couldn’t help but notice how good her stances were. Almost natural. “Hey, love,” Louis smiled at her kindly as he geared up to practice more tactile moves. “You liked his match so much you wanted to try on your own?” He asked.

She smiled, but it didn’t fully reach her eyes. “Something like that.”

“It’s good skills to have,” he assured her gently, because even though Harry’s infatuation annoyed him at the time, he knew Harry liked her. A lot. Knew just as well as Harry did why women signed up for a self-defense class. “You have a very natural stance,” he noted. “We should get you in the ring,” he winked at her.

She laughed lightly. “I don’t even know how to make a fist,” she snorted.

Louis chuckled giving her a gentle shoulder squeeze and moved onto the next person.

Harry moved in front of her next and he looked at her footing. Aligned near perfectly and practiced as if she had been doing it her whole life. He was still steaming with anger. It rolled off him and demanded to be felt—and she felt every bit of it. “S’like you’ve done this before,” he muttered.

“I haven’t,” she answered. “I’m just good at following directions. Like a recipe, you know?”

He was staring at her feet and trailed up to her hand where he carefully took hold of her delicate fingers. Instantly, it felt like her whole arm was made of jelly. Her heart took off about the speed of an airplane and she was lucky she could hear anything over the sound of it. Harry touching her skin made her feel faint. Carefully, he bent her fingers and tucked her thumb below the flat of her knuckles. It felt so intimate it seemed wrong to be doing this in a class put on for the public. Holding her wrist, he brought her fist to his cheek and tapped it against his skin a few times. “Like that,” he murmured.

She wanted to be cute and smile. Say something like, I’ll keep that in mind for strangers in dark parking lots when I ding their car. But instead, she was overcome with gratitude for the knowledge and a bit of awe. She was speechless without meaning to be. He released her wrist, and she wanted nothing more than to grab his hand again and never let go. “Thank you,” she whispered. He nodded sullenly.

Harry felt defeated—something he didn’t enjoy at all. Rarely did he feel it, but he wished he felt defeated after a match more so than he did right then. All he could do was walk away from her and finish the lesson without chatting with her again.

*

In hindsight, confronting her in the middle of a self-defense lesson wasn’t his wisest choice. The following morning, he had a renewed spirit and was once more determined to chat with her and figure out what made her join a self-defense class.

What he hadn’t anticipated was how stubborn she could be. He should have known but he was willing to dig his heels in as long as she was. Harry went to the bakery morning, noon, and night—literally—trying to figure out her schedule. “Again?” The girl behind the counter asked suspiciously when they returned at four in the afternoon on the third day of waiting. She had been there all day and hadn’t said anything up until their third arrival.

Niall shook his head and sighed. “Sorry, darling. He’s being super creepy, yeah?” Niall elbowed him with irritation. They sat at a table as they had the last few days. They didn’t stay long, only fifteen minutes to half an hour. (And they only stayed half an hour once because Niall had to get one of the cronuts that he had been pining for since he saw them.)

Harry was looking at their text message thread. The last message was from him. Are you working now? C’mon, Cupcake, you’re killing me here :(

It went unanswered since yesterday afternoon.

“He’s trying to talk to Miss Cupcake,” Niall rolled his eyes. He missed the back and forth between the girl behind the counter. “But I think he’s being a bit ridiculous.”

“Oh, were you her bad date?” She frowned.

Harry was still looking at his phone, checking his schedules, and making sure he didn’t miss anything in his email or messages from his mum or sister. But the moment the girl behind the counter spoke, his head snapped up to meet her gaze.

“What bad date?” He asked, his voice low, menacing.

The girl behind the counter blanched. Feeling bad she revealed something she obviously wasn’t supposed to and quite honestly, if he was her bad date, that was a horrible thing to announce. It was a reflex. “I don’t know, actually,” she tried to backtrack. “I don’t know why I said that out loud.”

“We won’t tell, darling,” Niall assured her. “Do you know when Miss Cupcake works, it would save Harry—and you—a lot of trouble.”

“OH!” She shook her head and went around to the front of the counter. Her eyes widened. “You’re Harry. Context clues, I didn’t recognize you without gloves,” she smiled excitedly. “Thank goodness, I almost closed this place down.”

Harry turned to the girl again feeling a warmth pass over him at the idea that she talked about him to her friend. “Oh brother, so she does like Harry?” Niall grumbled.

“I’m Maeve,” she announced.

“Maeve,” Harry stood up and held his hand out to her. “Nice to meet you.”

“You have a very cute niece.”

Now Harry really couldn’t help but smile because that little girl was practically his own pride and joy. And she was very cute. Plus, it meant she really was talking about Harry to her friend and that had to mean something. “Thank you, she’s perfect,” he agreed. But then he refocused on why he was haunting the bakery. “Does she not work during the day?”

“She pops in,” Maeve shrugged and fiddled with the cupcake display. He noted there was a raspberry filled one on the top tier. He recognized that cake and frosting pair anywhere. “But she’s been mostly coming in after close,” she admitted. “She’s been a little...stingy with details about everything. She gets like this sometimes. Compartmentalizes things so she can deal with it when she needs to,” Maeve bit her lip. “She’s visiting her dad right now.”

Harry realized there was very little he really knew about her. Most of their chatting had surrounded the bakery, boxing, and Harry’s niece. There was a little bit of information about their education and some books and hobbies they liked. But there wasn’t a huge depth of knowledge of her family.

“Oh,” Harry felt defeated again. “Uh... I guess we’ll go then,” he mumbled. “Try later.”

Maeve sighed. “She really likes you, Harry. Really,” she promised with a sad smile. “She’s just...a little stubborn and careful with her heart.”

Harry nodded. “Got it,” he could handle that.

*

She parked as close as she could to the bakery in the parking lot. Thinking about all the steps and stances that Louis and Harry had told her during her class. She took a deep breath and opened her car door. As she went to the back of her car to grab supplies from her trunk, she noticed a plethora of other cars parked in the lot—most people were probably at the restaurant near the waterfront. But there was no way she could miss the car she had accidentally dinged with her door just a few spaces down and across the row from her.

Once more, her gaze met the intense green gaze in the driver’s seat. She sighed knowing there was no escaping this talk anymore. Harry put a bookmark in the novel he was reading while waiting and set it on the passenger seat beside him. He locked his car and hurried to her side, taking the heavy bags of flour and sugar she bought to tide her over until the delivery came to the bakery in the morning. He didn’t speak to her as they walked to the storefront. She was overwhelmingly aware, once more, how safe she felt with Harry beside her in the nearly deserted parking lot. She unlocked the front and held the door open for Harry to enter. “Were you waiting long?” She asked.

He shrugged, putting the supplies on his now regular table while she fiddled with the display case and cupcake display once more. The raspberry one was missing from the top and she went behind the counter to get another. Harry closed the door and locked it, so she was safe inside. It was dark, the only light was a low soft glow coming from the case of treats. It had the glow of a candle, and he wondered if there was a way to keep it that way during the day because it was so warm it made him want one of everything that was in the display. “Yes,” he nodded. “S’okay.”

That felt worse. If he was willing to admit it, it meant he was there a while.

“I’m sorry,” her cheeks felt warm. “I should have just told you when I was working,” she was willing to admit when she was wrong. Harry watched in fascination as she placed the raspberry filled cupcake on top. He wondered if it had always been the one she put on top. He would have imagined the chocolate ganache one was a fan favorite, or the vanilla sprinkles one with the little toothpick and label of A Pinch of Sprinkles on it.

He shrugged again, nearly indifferent. “S’okay,” he repeated. “Read most of my book.”

“Is it a good read?” She asked and grabbed the bag of flour Harry had settled on the table and started for the back. He grabbed the bag of sugar and followed behind her.

He nodded. “Yeah...it’s,” he sighed. “S’a little darker than I expected,” he shrugged. “Was hoping for something lighter.”

“I only read rom-coms in book form,” she smiled. “It’s very light reading, but probably not what you want.”

“Rom-coms?” He repeated. She nodded. “Y’don’t strike me as a rom-com kind of girl.”

“No?”

“Y’seem more like a film noir or suspense.”

“I’ve had enough suspense for a while,” she muttered and turned to her ovens to preheat. Harry placed the sugar beside the flour bag and sat in the same chair he sat in when he fell asleep a couple months prior. He watched her in the same way he had before as she flittered around the kitchen, humming to herself as she worked. “How’s the baby?” She asked.

They were ignoring the elephant in the room, it seemed. But it was the first time he’d seen her since the self-defense lesson. In between his visits to the bakery (his stalking grounds, as Niall was calling it) he had been splitting his time between training, teaching, and ensuring Driven, his gym, was working as expected. He had to call an electrician because the lights in the men’s bathroom kept going out despite the fact, he had already replaced the circuit and lightbulbs a handful of times. But he had gone to see Gemma and his niece two days prior to get his fix of the sweet little girl who made him feel so much better about all the frustration he felt about his favorite Cupcake.

He couldn’t help but smile. “Perfect.”

She grinned back and nodded. “Good, and your sister?”

“Good, thanks for asking,” he thought that was polite of her—he always noticed when people asked about his sister. It wasn’t often. Once the baby was there, it was like they forgot about the mum.

“Does your mom live nearby?” She asked.

“Yeah, especially with the baby. Mum sold her house the moment she found out Gem was pregnant.”

She laughed. “That’s sweet. You’re all close?”

“Yes,” he nodded. “Mum’s m’hero,” his voice was filled with admiration so thick it made her feel wobbly on her feet. She wished she had that kind of admiration for her mother. “How ‘bout you? Maeve said y’were visiting your dad? He lives nearby?”

She nodded, guarded. “I feel the way about my dad, the way you feel about your mom,” she explained. There was a pause in conversation that seemed to stretch farther than it needed to. Maybe he was trying to get her to break first. Perhaps she did. “You talked to Maeve?”

He looked at her, tapping his fingers lightly on the table. “Didn’t leave me many options, Cupcake,” he reminded her.

She swallowed thickly, nodded. “That’s fair,” she whispered. “I’m sorry.”

“Can you please tell me?”

She shook her head. Harry felt so agitated, so defeated. “Not yet,” the bit of hope creeped back in. “I don’t want to talk about it,” she admitted, her voice cracking slightly. She swallowed the lump of emotion in her throat and turned away from him. “Sorry,” she sniffled. His heart broke. Quickly, he realized it wasn’t her wanting to hide it from him. It was painful to watch that frustration fall on her face.

“Oh, kitten,” he frowned. He stood quickly and made it to her side. He put a hand on her shoulder comfortingly not wanting to touch more than she wanted or needed in that moment. His imagination could only guess what went wrong on her date and it was painful to think about for him. He wanted to comfort her, but it had to be at her pace.

At once she melted into his touch. She turned quickly, almost reflexively into his embrace. Her face pressed against his shoulder, her arms wrapped up around his back, and she inhaled shakily. It felt awful to see her sad, feel the anxiety coming off her in waves. But Harry was grateful to hold her so close to him. “M’here, Cupcake,” he promised. She squeezed her eyes shut tighter, nodded against him.

Harry could live with ‘not yet.’ For now.

*

Over the next week, they went back to texting throughout the day and chatting well beyond bedtime on the nights she wasn’t at the bakery. Additionally, Harry walked beside her from her car to the bakery when she arrived and back through the dark parking lot. Not once did he ask her what went wrong with her date even though it was killing him. She wasn’t budging. She knew Harry was waiting for more details, but she couldn’t. It hurt and she didn’t want to think about it—even if she actually did want to tell him. It was overwhelmingly kind that Harry appeared beside her car—especially at night.

“I’m still really sorry about Clay,” she frowned. Harry didn’t park far away from her like he did the other night. But she was very mindful of her opening the door and not bumping into his car.

“S’okay,” he smiled and rubbed his fingers on the little indent. “Reminds me of you,” he winked at her.

Her heart fluttered and she looked away briefly before smiling back at him. “Like you need more reminders of me,” she murmured.

“Can never have enough, Cupcake,” he assured her. “Can I kiss y’goodnight?” He asked on the third night he walked her though the dark parking lot. Her heart literally skipped a beat. Speechless. He tapped his cheek. “Jus’ the cheek, kitten. Need a proper date before I really kiss you,” he acknowledged and smiled shyly at her. That boyish grin that made her weak in the knees. Breathlessly she nodded. His lips swept across her cheek. It was brief and soft. Like a piece of her hair had brushed over her face and tickled her skin. “Thank you,” he grinned. “Been dying t’do that,” he admitted and once more tucked her safely in her car.

Harry mentioned it only twice more. He never pressed or demanded she reveal the facts of her bad date. It was more of—what he hoped was—a gentle reminder. He was waiting for more information. All he wanted was to assuage her worries and fears. She attended the second class for her self-defense lessons (dropping off a box of blueberry scones at the front desk had everyone in the class asking if they could go after the lesson to pick out their own sweet treats). Harry continued to boil with anger just thinking about her using the moves he and Louis taught her. But it was obvious he was much less angry than the previous week. More so, his anger didn’t extend to her. He was mad, but he understood her choice to keep it to herself.

Louis was going over demonstrations using Harry as the attacker. Everyone watched with rapt attention. “Your goal is to get away,” it was repeated about a hundred times and Harry had the hardest time watching her every time it was repeated. Each time it was said, she flinched. He wasn’t sure she knew it or not—it was a reflex. But she did get away. It terrified her still.

Harry couldn’t help but notice she wasn’t pushing him away. Every night, she thanked him profusely for coming to the bakery and walking her to and from the car. She could see his anger growing beneath the surface. He wanted to know. She was trying so hard to brush it off. It wasn’t a big deal. Now she had two classes under her belt, and she promised herself she would never be in such a vulnerable position again.

“Can I watch you at work?” She asked randomly. It was a morning shift this time. She was covered in flour, and she had frosting streaked in her hair leftover from when she put it up after icing four dozen cupcakes. Harry didn’t think she could look cuter if she tried.

“Watch me?” He repeated.

“Not this again,” she smirked.

He chuckled. “Y’want to watch me train?” He repeated anyway.

She shrugged. “You always watch me bake and stuff.”

“You’ve attended the class, Cupcake. S’pretty much the same thing,” he reminded her.

He noted her cheeks turned pink. “Um...if you don’t want me to hang around then—”

Harry nearly gasped. “Oh, no. No way, kitten. I want y’around. I promise,” he assured her. “Jus’ don’t want you t’be bored.”

“I won’t be,” she shook her head.

That was how she ended up sitting beside the ring, Louis padded and guarded while Harry punched and punched and punched for over an hour. His breath was heaving, and his body was slick with sweat. She watched intently examining his form and his moves like she would one day repeat them.

When he came for water at the end of his training session, he was heavy breathing and smiling at her. He struggled to get the towel he had from his bag beside her with his gloves on. “Bored?” He asked.

“Not even a little,” she assured him, grabbing the little towel and swiping it across his forehead. It felt intimate and made Harry feel warm all throughout his body. “Can I try?” She asked with an impish smile.

He chuckled and nodded. “Come on,” he held the ropes open for her to enter the ring. She wasn’t wearing the right shoes or equipment. Louis rolled his eyes discreetly at Harry and held the pads out for her to hit. “Make the fist I showed you,” she did for both hands. “S’all the balance in your legs,” he promised. “No balance, no punch, no follow-through. Punch through the pad,” he explained and guided her hand to the pad slowly so she could see how it would look and feel to go through it.

“Pretend it’s Harry,” Louis suggested. “That’s what I do.”

She giggled. “I don’t think I could throw a punch if I thought it was Harry,” she admitted and gave her best attempt. It was honestly exhausting. She only threw a dozen or so punches and was breathless as she answered Louis.

“You’ll get there,” he assured her.

Harry scowled at him. “Take the pads off.”

“No, you lunatic.”

“Coward.”

She giggled, thanked Louis, and twisted herself out of the ring again. “That was fun,” she told him. “I can see why you like it. Plus, you’re really good at it.”

Harry was staring at her, the way that sent all the butterflies in the world directly to her stomach and began to flutter as if they were trying to escape. His gaze was firm but gentle, his eyes almost glowing somehow as he looked her over. “Please tell me, Cupcake. I want t’help,” his voice was quiet, begging ever so gently.

She looked at the floor, their shoes were nearly toe-to-toe. “I can’t,” she whispered back.

He nodded, defeat did not come easy to him, and she knew that. “I have t’shower, do some office stuff. Get ready for some lessons and classes,” he told her, his voice the slightest bit disappointed.

“Want me to watch you in the shower too?” She asked hoping to alleviate the mood. It worked, his smile returned to his pretty lips, and he chuckled.

“Hell yes, Cupcake,” he shook his head at her cuteness. “Maybe next time. Not here,” he winked.

Even though it was her that was forward it still made her blush. Plus, joke or not, she agreed here was not a good idea. “I have to do some errands anyway,” she admitted.

“I’ll walk you t’your car,” but she knew he would. It was like a safety blanket being wrapped around her.

She really liked it.

*

After her third self-defense lesson she was feeling more confident. She even showed Maeve some of her moves in the back kitchen. Shadowboxing the same way that she saw Harry do to Louis the night she met him. “I don’t know who thought it was a good idea to give the Queen of Sugar boxing lessons,” Maeve rolled her eyes.

Honestly, she was feeling better. More confident. Plus, she was enjoying her not-so-date-dates with Harry. There was one night when Harry wasn’t around, and she realized she missed him so much. Not only because the dark parking lot seemed more foreboding but because his presence made her happy. Happier than she had been in a really long time. It felt undeserving to be so happy but it wasn’t something she thought about when he was actually there. I missed you.

Oh? 😍

Sorry, I know that’s...

A lot...

I miss you all the time, Cupcake. Think about you all day.

The message made her warm and she wished she could explain how simple it seemed to just have Harry fit in her life. They were busy people, but he always managed to come by and see her. She enjoyed watching him train or sitting with Sarah at the front desk and chatting while he taught classes and lessons. Maeve teased her every time he arrived and she wasn’t there. Can’t you just give him your schedule? The poor guy is going to have to train twice as hard to get rid of the extra cupcake weight.

I like to keep him guessing a little 😉

Today, she was up front on her own—one of her employees called out sick and she didn’t mind in the slightest. Working up front was one of her favorite tasks. Interacting with customers and sharing her gift was something she enjoyed thoroughly. Her other coworker was out back, working on inventory and prepping the bagels for her monthly bagel sale.

Ding.

The bell attached to the front door signaled whenever customers arrived or departed. It was a busy morning. So busy that it took her a minute to realize Harry was sitting with Niall at one of the tables. Niall gave her a wave as she finally got caught in his gaze. She waved back, smiling brightly and paused the customers that were at the counter while she ran to the back and then to the table as quickly as she could. She pecked Harry on the cheek without thinking and deposited a raspberry filled cupcake and a personal sized loaf of Irish soda bread.

Harry felt as gooey as the filling on the inside of his cupcake. Her soft little kiss made him crazier for her. Watching her made him happy. Being around her made him happy. Happier than the little kid that was bullied could have dreamed.

Niall was making noises that would have embarrassed the porn industry while eating his bread. Harry snorted at him, tried to steal a piece, only for Niall to slap his hand away. “Eat your cupcake,” he nearly snarled.

“She could make more, m’sure.”

Niall shook his head stuffing his face of the treat made specially for him.

Harry liked watching her. He wondered if it was the same way she felt when she watched him. People obviously fell in love with her the moment they spoke to her. Unironically, she was so sweet. Of course she was. It was like she was a sprinkles-fairy. This ethereal being that passed out sweet treats to everyone.

Ding.

With her back turned to get another bag, she didn’t notice the influx of new customers. When she turned back, her heart leapt to her throat. She was lucky she didn’t drop the dozen cookies she was packaging.

“Shit,” she whispered mostly to herself. He hadn’t seen her yet. Fortunately, it was crowded enough to hide behind her wall of customers. All the progress she had made, the classes thus far, all seemed for naught at that moment. Her gaze darted to Harry and Niall. They were unaware of the turmoil she was facing while she packaged treats for the next customer. Her stomach churned uneasily.

If Harry just looked at her, she knew he would know. “Hey Lexi!” She called toward the back room. But Harry was chatting with Niall. Niall was focused on his soda bread. Neither of them noticed the anxiety that swept over her. Lexi doesn’t answer at first. Making her more anxious and scared. It shouldn’t be that way. He shouldn’t ruin the one place she loved most.

Niall now had crumbs on his cheeks, but his head tilted curiously in the direction of her main display. “Harry, something’s wrong,” Niall’s voice was quiet.

Harry’s gaze snapped up defensively. Sure enough, her whole demeanor had changed. Harry could see it. Her smile was tight, and her eyes darted toward the door and the customer in front of her more times in ten seconds than Harry could ever begin to count. Harry wanted to kick himself. How long had she looked like that?

After an eternity, Lexi finally appeared. She mumbled something to her employee and headed to the back kitchen. Not even a glance in Harry’s direction. Without fanfare, without permission, Harry marched his way into the back almost as soon as she left his view.

“Excuse me,” Lexi said. “Hey, that’s employee—”

“He’s fine, Lexi,” she answered quietly.

Harry found her in the kitchen, hand clutching the front collar of her shirt, her eyes lit with anxiety while she paced back and forth. “Is he here?” He asked lowly, while she moved quickly across the kitchen.

She tried to remember the last time she felt safe. It was her dad, right? Her dad before...before everything. Before she moved her shop here. Before she uprooted her life.

But there were those brief moments where she was overcome with how safe she felt in Harry’s presence. Walking to his fight for the first time. Each time he walked her to her car. How his hand felt when he pressed her fingers into a fist.

She nodded, her eyes watering.

He spun almost immediately to do who knows what. He didn’t know and she certainly didn’t know.

“No, don’t leave me!” She practically shouted before he could hardly take a step further. She started to follow him but he stopped at the sound of despair in her voice.

Harry groaned lowly; it came out nearly as a growl. He turned back to her immediately as if it pained him. “M’never leaving you,” his eyes were so dark and desperate—her whole body felt heavy at the seriousness of his words. Breathless again. “Please don’t ask me that,” his eyes darted back toward the front of the bakery.

“Harry, please,” she whispered.

His hands were already balled into fists. He shook his head. “Cupcake,” he grumbled. It was such an oxymoron in itself. Harry was calling her one of the sweetest things in the world and it sounded downright terrifying.

“Please, Harry,” she begged, grabbing one of his closed fists. “I need you,” she whispered.

Groaning again, he rubbed a hand over his face and sighed. “Fine,” he snapped.

She felt bad making him stay. She knew she was forcing his hand, but she was scared. To soften the blow, she threw herself at him. Arms around his neck, face buried in his shirt. She sighed with relief with the feel of him: solid, warm, protective against her body. Harry was safe. He proved that already and she still hardly knew him. It wasn’t hard. It shouldn’t have been hard for her date to make her feel safe.

Harry was momentarily shocked before he returned the hug, one arm looped around her back, the other cupping the back of her head. It was like the antidote to an disease she didn’t know she had. Another loud sigh escaped her. Like the feeling of Harry was cause for another wave of relief.

“What did he do?” He mumbled into her hair. She ignored him and scrunched her eyes shut. “Please, Cupcake,” he begged. She realized she wanted to tell Harry.

“I’m so embarrassed,” she whispered. “I don’t even know why I went out with him...I had met you and—”

“Doesn’t matter, kitten,” he shook his head. “He doesn’t get t’make y’feel unsafe,” he reminded her.

“It was such bad judgment.”

He shook his head again. “No, Cupcake. He doesn’t get t’make y’feel that way. S’not you. S’not asking a lot t’feel safe on a date. S’not even the bare minimum. Y’don’t have poor judgment. Your judgment got y’out of there that night. S’why y’signed up for classes and—”

It poured out of her at that moment. She told him everything. In the middle of the story, she tried to downplay it sensing the way his body tightened around her with every word. Explained why she signed up for the self-defense class. Every detail and emotion she felt for the last few weeks. How scared she was that very night. Why she requested Harry and chatted with him until three in the morning. How he made her feel better when she didn’t think she could. How safe she felt around him in general.

At the end, Harry pulled away from her.

Her heart felt heavy. Now he wouldn’t like her. She was broken and hurt. Harry didn’t want to be a bodyguard, nor should he have to be. “I need t’go to the gym,” he started toward the front, and she thought that was it. It was the last she would see of him. He was too overwhelmed with how stupid she was. This wasn’t what he wanted. Someone who couldn’t defend herself or be smart enough to see the signs earlier.

“Harry, I’m sorry—” She managed to croak with tears thick in her voice and vision. Right as he reached the threshold back to the front of the bakery. He was shaking. Every inch of him. She wondered how he wasn’t a blur from how much he shook. In the moment it took for the apology to form in her mouth, he was back in front of her.

He grabbed her firmly but still softly by the chin, held her sweet face between his palms. Gazed into her eyes and shook his head slowly. His eye contact was overwhelming but still felt so good. “You are to never. Ever. Apologize.” Her eyes welled with more tears. She couldn’t do anything but nod at him. Her heart felt so heavy and broken. But Harry was looking at her. Taking in every inch of her face and he sighed. “M’sorry, Cupcake; m'angry. But s'not something you need t'apologize for. Y'didn't do anything wrong. M'jus' mad I wasn't there for you,” he whispered and brought her back in to hold her against him once more. Her body felt relieved it was ridiculous for him to feel bad--he didn't even know she was going on a date. She didn't want him to feel bad.

"It's not your fault either," she whispered. Harry sighed with relief and he kissed the top of her hair.

She lost track of how long they stood there. It could have been two minutes or two hours. All she felt was Harry’s warm body against hers and reveled in how good it felt. “Call me a half hour before you’re ready to leave here. I’ll come walk you t’your car.”

She smiled softly, hoping to alleviate the tension now that a significant portion of time had passed. “Even if it’s in the middle of the night and—”

He didn’t think her joke was funny at all. “If y’call,” he repeated, interrupting her, his eyes were hard and serious. No room for joking at all. “I’ll be here.”

He was rapidly making her fall in love with him.

*

“Hey Dad,” she smiled softly sitting across from him at the dinner table. He grinned at her.

“Hey sweetie. How was your day?”

“Good! Did you see the game?” She asked. He nodded.

“Your guy did well, don’t you think?”

She laughed, shaking her head and blushed a bit. “Max Kepler is not my guy, Dad.”

“I didn’t say his name, honey,” he reminded her with a chuckle.

She rolled her eyes and bit the inside of her cheek. “I think I met a guy, actually,” she rushed out quickly.

“Oh?” He looked at her curiously, tilted his head ever so slightly and smiled. “That’s nice, sweetie. You haven’t had a boyfriend in a while. You need someone to...chat with, depend on,” he said knowingly. “I want to know you’re taken care of.”

“Dad, that is so 1950s of you. I don’t need a guy to take care of me.”

“Oh honey, I know you don’t. But I want you to have someone,” his voice was gentle.

For a moment she just looked at him. Thought long about all the things that had happened since she met Harry almost three months prior. It was a big deal to tell her dad about Harry. She wanted to make sure it was the right move especially after she was feeling poorly about her gut feeling. But she thought of Harry, the reassurance he gave her that it wasn’t her poor judgment that caused her bad date.

“His name is Harry. He’s a boxer,” she shrugged. “The raspberry filled cupcakes are his favorite.”

“Well, then he’s perfect. Right?”

She laughed, nodded, then bit her lip. “I mean...he’s...” she sighed forgoing all the details about how she was insane to let him steer her to his boxing match. How he helped her with self-defense classes. And why she was taking self-defense classes. No. She would tell him how they met another day. When Harry and she defined more of what their relationship was... if there was a relationship to be had. “I like him,” she admitted. “Then that’s all that really matters, honey,” he assured her. It felt like a blessing.

She couldn't wait to see Harry.

--

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Surprise Pt. 2 | Soap x Reader

Summary: The boys are slowly settling into your apartment, looking for the terrorist group they’re hunting down, while memories begin resurfacing for Simon.

Word Count: ~ 3.8k

Warnings: Mentions of death, toxic relationship, toxic family, abusive dad, panic attack/ptsd episodes, guns, violence, prob terribly inaccurate to anything military (I’m trying my hardest ok😭)

A/N: this part is mainly for worldbuilding, I’m alr working on part 3 but felt like y’all might want a little update, lmk what you want to see, hope you enjoy<3

Requests are open!

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It was safe to say that Ghost and Price had a long conversation that night.

“How much does she know?”

The captain had asked, hat hanging over his head before he picked it off between two fingers, setting it on the bedside table in a guest room. The two available rooms were split with Gaz and Price in one, and Ghost and Soap in the other.

Simon thought for a solid moment. He hadn’t told you anything, other than he was going to the military. He’d stayed over at your place maybe once before, years earlier, and all he’d told you was that he had a mission, an important one, something he couldn’t tell you about. To keep you safe.

It wasn’t a lie. At first, you’d been angry that he wouldn’t tell you, but something must’ve clicked at 15 because that was when you stopped questioning it altogether. Then again, at that point, he’d rarely texted you or called you at all. It had been years since physical words were exchanged at this point.

He felt bad about it, but with the last words exchanged between the two of you…it made regret and grief flare up in him all over again.

~

You were pacing. Back and forth, and he wouldn’t be surprised if you burnt a trail in the carpet with how frenzied you looked. Shock, grief, anger, and pure disbelief mixed all into one, your body language reflecting as much.

He hadn’t even taken his mask off yet, leaning against the wall behind him in the home his mother had grown up in. The home he’d grown up in. A home you’d visited before, only because of the court-deemed custody that your father somehow got.

“You didn’t come to the funeral.”

His harsh voice finally rang out, and your pacing stopped. You turned to look at him, defensiveness automatically rendering itself in your expression. Always so easy to read. If only you were like that now.

“I couldn’t make it in time. You know that, Simon.”

You said, and his temper flared. Every single lesson he’d had drilled into him in his military-deemed anger management classes went out of the window at that. At how you defended yourself, even when he knew you could’ve made it on time for that funeral. Or at least he thought you could’ve.

“Really? Or did you know about this, huh?”

He accused, anger building in his tone as he pushed off the wall, stalking closer to you, now pacing in his own slower, more predatory manner. Your eyes widened at his accusation.

“You think I was plotting to kill your mum? The fuck is wrong with you?”

Simon knew it was outrageous, there was no way in hell you would’ve done it. Not when you’d known her, even if only for a little bit. But Ghost….Ghost had been betrayed too many times. He was desperate for any answer, any way to get rid of you so he didn’t have to deal with any reminder of his mother, or Tommy, or his little nephew that had been so painfully young.

Maybe you didn’t understand, but if he made himself believe this…then you wouldn’t be around him anymore, and he wouldn’t have to worry about anyone killing you like they had everyone else around him.

“What about Tommy? Or Joseph? Didn’t make it to theirs either, did you.”

“Simon, I came as soon as I could, you know that. I was in that camp for a month, there was nothing I could-“

“That’s convenient, isn’t it.”

He said drily, stalking closer, hand moving to the hilt of his gun. You didn’t notice, probably because you had no military training or anything of the sort. If he wanted to kill you right now, make you disappear, he could. Easily, too. He could already think of how he’d do it, the silencer on his gun covering the sound as he would shoot you, once in the head, twice in the heart, then he would take you down into the sewers, and you’d disappear-

“You’re fucking crazy.”

Your voice, slightly scared now, and your body language showing just how intimidated and panicked you were, was wobbly at best. Tears welled in your eyes as you opened the door to leave out of the front, your car, a black jeep you weren’t old enough to drive yet, but did anyway thanks to the fake ID you’d made, parked in the rocky driveway.

He snatched your arm up, yanking you back into the room as he pressed you against the wall he’d previously been leaning on. He leaned close, breath coming through the fabric of his baklava and speaking softly, like the old Simon would, to you in your ear.

“I wouldn’t blame you, you know.” He began.

“He was your dad, he was all you had, wasn’t he? Maybe you were jealous, or angry about what happened to him. What I did to him.”

He almost whispered to you, as if it was some forbidden knowledge. Your small body was stiff against the wall, unconsciously leaning away from him. You were terrified. He could feel it.

“You’re insane. Completely fuckin’ insane.”

You said, trying to squirm away, and he let you gain an inch of room, only to force you another inch against the wall. One more and your breathing would be strained if you could breathe at that.

“I’ll let you off, but if I find out you had anything to do with this, with her…”

He didn’t get to finish the rest before you struggled free, and you made it to your car quicker than ever before, and drove off, not caring about any speed limits or anything.

~

“Simon? You here?”

Price’s voice snapped him out of whatever trance he’d been in, and he gave a little grunt in response. Shaking himself out of it, he tried to remember what the captain’s question had been. Something about what you knew.

“The bare minimum.”

“Good. She seems like a good kid, keep her outta this.”

Simon didn’t mention the fact that you had already faced minor charges multiple times, some for breaking and entering or assault and battery, most of which were dismissed by a judge he suspected was paid off. Or the fact that you’d used a fake ID for your car for multiple years. He would know, considering he’d asked Gaz to find you multiple times. You weren’t an easy one to find, almost as if you’d tried to wipe yourself off the grid before turning back on it.

You weren’t a good kid by any means, but by your age, he’d probably been killing people already, so he supposed there were worse things to be doing.

“Roger that.”

Price gave a small nod of confirmation, clapping him on the shoulder as he went to walk to the room that he was sharing with Gaz.

“Get some rest, Simon. We’ll get directions from Laswell tomorrow. Don’t stress over it.”

Despite himself, Simon gave a little nod.

If only he was stressing over things as simple as terrorists and covert warfare.

~

Soap, surprisingly enough, woke up first. It was around 5:30 AM when he did, and Simon was still fast asleep on the bed beside him.

“Scuse me, Lt.”

He mumbled while sliding out of the bed, and walking to where he thought the kitchen probably was, and after wandering around, he found one small dim light on in the general kitchen area. You were standing in the kitchen, wrapping some sort of spandex-looking bandage material around your left knee. The type to help support it, in the case of an injury.

You were wearing a pair of blank shorts that didn’t go nearly far enough down your thighs, and what looked like an old jersey, with a faded number ‘14’ on it. Your right knee had a knee pad on, your left knee pad laying on the table. Your hair was pulled back into a ponytail that was braided.

You both just stared at each other for a minute, before he grinned and obnoxiously whistled.

“Lookin’ good, lass. Where ya headed?”

He asked, already watching the gears turn in your head as you tried to decode his thick accent. Surprisingly, it didn’t take you nearly as long as he thought it would. Usually, new people had to take a few seconds, but you responded almost immediately.

“Practice.”

You replied bluntly, either not a morning person, or just not a talker. By the blank look on your face, he was just assuming you were also a heartless bastard like Ghost. But even Simon Riley had his tells, and he was sure you did too.

“What the hell’ve they got you practicing for at 5 in the mornin’?” He asked, and you looked at him for a moment, as if trying to see if what he’d said was a joke. As if he was stupid. He was not stupid.

“Volleyball. I’m on the team. Got a scholarship.”

His brows raised at that. Another blunt answer. You really were Simon’s sister, weren’t you? And to get a scholarship in volleyball…he hadn’t even known you’d gone to a private school, let alone the fact that you played sports.

I mean, sure, he’d sort of assumed you might based on your muscular thighs and arms he was entranced by, or the sheer unmoving look you always had, barely changing. Volleyball girls always had nice asses though, and you weren’t an exception, that was for sure.

You were either telepathic or had seen him staring because, with a simple snap of your fingers, he had flinched out of his daze.

“Eyes up here, MacTavish.”

You said in a mildly annoyed tone, and he gave you a slightly pouty look.

“Can’t blame me for looking at it when it’s right there, now can you?”

You had only given him another annoyed glance, before slinging a bag over your shoulder and walking out. He didn’t fail to notice the way you checked the peephole before walking out. Or how your eyes darted to the windows consistently, or the nearest available exit.

He didn’t blame you, living alone as a girl in this end of town, you had to be cautious.

~

They had been at this all day.

Laswell had radioed them in earlier, probably around noon after they’d raided your pantry, which only really had bread in various forms in it. Your fridge wasn’t much better, only cheap lunch meats, lettuce, tomatoes, and a few miscellaneous vegetables and fruits.

Since then, they’d been on the hunt for any suspicious characters, any sign of the terrorist group that had gotten away. It had taken a bit of travel, but a few miles out, they’d passed a van, white, with four burly shadowy figures in the darkened windows. Windows too dark to even be legal.

“Armed men, four of ‘em, cap.”

Soap had said, and Price had only given a nod, taking a U-turn to trail the vehicle. It wasn’t every day you would see any military men driving in a white van with tinted windows.

It had only escalated from there.

The van had stopped near an old alleyway with no people around, failing to notice T141, who were now all trailing on foot. They’d left the car behind with Gaz, despite his protests. They needed someone able to drive, and Soap was needed to disable any possible bombs. They were dealing with terrorists here.

Slowly crawling up the building to the right of the alleyway, Ghost let his gun peek down into it through some crumbling brick on the sides of the roof’s edge.

“We droppin’ em’?”

He asked quietly over the radio, and Price, on the building roof opposite of him, replied.

“Not yet. If we can get one alive, we’ll want ‘im for interrogation. Three of ‘em on my count.”

Soap, to the left of Ghost, nodded mainly to himself, his gun focusing on the man closest to a trash can, Price on the man to the right of him, and Ghost to the man leading the other two. The fourth was lingering behind a bit, examining the surroundings. Paranoid.

“Gaz, start bringing in our exfil.”

“Got it, Captain.”

“On your mark, Sergeant.”

With that, the first relatively silent shot went off, and two more followed until all that was left was the one man, who immediately took cover and jumped through the open window of the nearly abandoned building Price was on the roof of.

“Shit. Get him.”

Price’s voice cursed over the radio, and Gaz driving the car came into view only moments later, as Ghost and Soap hopped down from the roof of the building, taking the same route as the escaped terrorist through the building, and clearing it one floor at a time.

Hours later, it felt like they’d searched the whole damn city and come up with absolutely nothing. Whoever they’d missed had disappeared completely, and possibly contacted outside forces of their presence. They had to be careful with this.

“We headin’ back?” Soap asked, and Price replied.

“Affirmative. I’ll let Laswell know what happened.”

And so they headed back to the apartment, only to find you completely not there. Gaz got there first, gun still in hand as he cleared the apartment. Just in case.

“Clear.” He radioed over,

The rest of the boys filed in after that, taking the time to take showers, in the hope that you wouldn’t notice their bloodstained clothes. It was only after they had all changed into casual clothes that Soap remembered about you.

“Anyone know where the girl is?”

Gaz seemed to stir at that, immediately on his feet, when Ghost pushed him back down into the chair he was sitting in at the dinner table.

“She’s at school, lads.” His rough voice spoke, and Gaz and Soap both made an “ohhhh” sound at the answer. It was obvious, but they hadn’t gone to school in…a long time, and you were almost an adult now, so they tended to forget about that.

“Where does she go?” Price asked, taking a sip of his cup of water. Ghost shrugged.

“Some private school, said she got a scholarship for volleyball or somethin’,” Soap added, and Ghost shot a tiny glare at him. The fact that a random Scottish man knew more about you than Simon Riley, your technical brother, wasn’t making him too happy. Soap only gave him a cheeky grin in return.

“You seem to know an awful lot about her, Soap.”

Kyle then spoke up, carefully eying Simon and Johnnie. Even as Simon huffed out of his nose, taking a sip of water. His lips were chapped, Gaz noticed. Soap gave a little shrug, a smirk pulling at his lips.

“Just curious about ‘er is all. We are living in her house, after all.” He answered, and Price stood up, mumbling something about a smoke break while walking across the kitchen to reach the balcony, where he smoked. The first time he’d tried to smoke inside, you’d grabbed it straight from his fingers, and thrown it into the sink before running cold water over it.

It took him a minute to realize that had only been yesterday night.

The week went by quickly, and the boys slowly got used to your schedule. More like they just started fitting into the routine you had, really. Having four random military men inside of your house wasn’t easy, especially when they kept leaving the toilet seat up in the bathroom in the hallway.

“Couldn’t just put the seat down, could they..”

You mumbled to yourself late into the night, slamming the seat down as hard as you could without breaking it. Every time they left it up, you made sure to put it down hard, making enough noise to wake them up. Distantly, you could’ve sworn you heard Johnny’s laughter from the room he was in with Simon, before a low “Shut it.” and a “Roger that, Lt.” was faintly audible.

You had practice almost every night, even some on weekends, which made sense considering you were the team captain for the junior varsity of your school. Once you became a Senior next year, you’d probably get team captain of the full varsity team. A big responsibility, but one you seemed to enjoy, even when some days you would come home, lock yourself in your room, and fall straight asleep without eating anything.

Where they went every day, you never asked. Didn’t want to.

One night, Price walked into the kitchen, where you kept a washer and dryer for the clothes as well, tucked into the room where it wasn’t easily noticed, and saw you pouring hydrogen peroxide on some bloodstains in their clothes. It was strong, stronger than anything you could legally get from a pharmacy, he could tell that much.

Your eyes both met, and you didn’t waver from his stare, and he didn’t from yours.

“You aren’t going to ask questions?” He asked, voice a deep rumble. Your eyes shifted away at that, back to the clothes. As if hiding whatever gleamed within them, the knowledge you had, or what you’d seen. What you knew they did every day.

“Better for all of us if I don’t.”

You’d replied simply, voice still relatively neutral, the barest amount of a British accent lingering even when you’d spent so many years in America. You almost mumbled it, as if used to speaking quietly. Based on the small fragments he knew of Simon’s past, and his father, one that you both shared, he wasn’t surprised. It would be a hard habit to break.

Whatever had kept you from interacting much with Price must’ve changed after that night, because you showed up more after that. It was late at night, and you looked beat, but he could still see the gears working behind your eyes.

“What is it?” He asked as you walked over to where he was sitting in the bed he and Gaz shared, and sat down next to him on it, showing him a notebook. He recognized what was on it, a court of some sort, a net in the middle, and a rotation of numbers, with all the enemy patterns and numbers on the other side of the net.

“Help.”

You stated simply, and he nodded before you explained to him the basics of volleyball. He only really knew the frequently adjusted rules he’d seen on the Olympics sometimes, so it was a lot of explaining, but after that, the both of you were straight to work on finding a rotation and pattern that would work to beat the team that you’d lost to twice this season.

“If 28 is your hitter, why not move them back row, to move in for the kill?”

“It would leave our defenses entirely open. A tip could lose the point and serve, and when we got the serve back, 14 would be serving. She doesn’t do well with serving under pressure. 28 needs to stay front row as long as possible to block.”

“Got it, so..”

He would admit, you were not stupid, and that was for sure. You knew everyone on your team’s strengths and weaknesses and used them to your advantage. It was almost like looking at a younger, female version of himself. Always taking charge, always thinking ahead.

And Johnny…he was obnoxious.

Always flirting with you in any way he could, making random jokes just to hear your tiny laugh or the snort you usually made instead. He couldn’t help it, even when the rest of the guys were getting sick of hearing him.

But, he had his uses, too.

When the remote would break down? Don’t worry, he only took it entirely apart, replaced and tweaked it so it would work, and put it all back together with his nails as a screwdriver.

When you were in an especially foul mood? His terrible jokes came in handy, not because you were laughing at them, but at how stupid he looked telling these jokes, chest puffed out like a proud bird when he saw you snort or your lips twitch, even though he didn’t know whether you were laughing with him or at him.

Johnny was smarter than you originally thought, as well. Had incredibly complicated math homework, and giving you a serious headache? Somehow, the bastard knew exactly how to do it.

“How do you know that equation.”

“It’s simple, really, I use it all the time for me explosives. Reminds me of the time I and the Lt planted them all over, you should’ve seen-“

“On topic, Johnny.”

“Right, sorry.”

But living with military men did have downsides, more obvious than them leaving the toilet seat up, forgetting to do the dishes when it was their day or the same for laundry, or messing up the guest beds. (Though Gaz never forgot about his responsibilities, even taking the time to make you dinner when you would get home late with what little ingredients you had.)

You were a quiet person, and Gaz had noticed it first. How you rolled on your feet, careful not to make noise, not even noticing how you were doing it. Or the way that unless you were slamming the toilet seat down for the umpteenth time, you took extra care in placing things down gently, not dropping them. It was an odd contrast with your blunt, slightly harsh demeanor that reminded him of Simon.

But it had been Gaz that made you fully remember what these men had gone through when you had been scared shitless because of Soap purposefully sneaking up behind you and scaring you, and accidentally letting out a small scream that was more like a yell. Instinct had kicked in, muscle memory as well, and before his mind even knew whose scream it was, his body was moving.

He’d tackled Soap straight to the floor, hands around his throat.

“The fuck, Kyle-“ Johnny had choked out, and it had been Price who’d snatched Gaz up, restraining his hands against his back while you watched in slight sympathy.

It had taken him only a few seconds to calm back down and figure out what the hell was happening, at which he sighed, giving Soap a regretful look.

“Sorry, don’t know what got into me.” He mumbled, and Johnny only stood up, brushing his knees off, and patted Kyle softly on the back.

“Don’t. I get it.” The Scotsman said, before walking out. When he glanced at you, it was the empathy for him that Kyle found most odd. The fact that you seemed to understand.

It was only weeks later that he understood why you could empathize with him over his actions.

Tags:

@yearninglustfully

@kazuyatokue

@kiwibao

@kurokitty6

[bunniandhoney]

Hi! First I wanna say I’ve enjoyed reading your work so much lately, you have a real talent! 🫶🏾

For a request: I’d love to see a smut with Jacob as a sub, and maybe the reader ties him up or something 🫣

are trying to butter me up so I do your bidding?

You are clearly aware that flattery works wonders on me; BEING OUT THE SUBS!!!

—

“This is really embarrassing, just so you know”

“Why would this be embarrassing? It's just us” YN says, tightening the ropes behind his back.

YN had Jacob in an incredibly compromising position. Naked from the waist down, Jacob’s ankles were tied to the foot of the chair while his wrists were bound behind his back. He was completely at his girlfriend’s mercy.

“Besides you’re already getting hard, you can’t be that embarrassed.” YN adds with a small tuff, giving the ropes one last tug.

She was right; Jacob was getting harder by the second. Something about his usually meek girlfriend turning into this domineering goddess, has kept him from being soft the moment she mentioned this.

His thoughts are interrupted as she kneels in between his open legs. When did she come from behind him? It doesn’t matter because YN is looking at his dick, like she’s been craving it.

“You know you really do have the prettiest dick I’ve ever seen, baby.” YN says looking up at him with pure mischief.

“It’s even prettier when you put it in your mouth, my love.” Jacob says flaring his nostrils.

YN’s in control, but can’t decide what to do. She’s imagined too many scenarios where Jacob gives up and lets her have control, she’s just overwhelmed. YN goes on autopilot and grabs his dick, letting his sticky tip pulse over her lips for just a second as she gives Jacob a good pump oh her hand.

“That’s it baby, now give it a kiss. “ Jacob says, looking down at her.

YN pulls back tilting her head to the side in utter confusion. “I’m sorry but have you forgotten our deal, handsome? I’m the one who gives the orders tonight. You just look pretty and take it!” she says, quoting his words back at him.

Jacob’s eyes follow her now, too stunned to speak. He follows her hands move from his cock to his chest, her fingernails lightly scratching him. But when her hands get to his neck his eyes lead up her arm, landing on the piercing stare she’s giving him.

Leaning her face down, YN ghosts her lips over his to say, “ You’d do well to remember that tonight handsome.”

—

Jacob’s body is shuddering for the fourth time tonight.

“Okay! That’s enough, I need to come and if you don’t ma—mmmph!” He pants, trying to collect himself.

“What’s that baby, If I don’t what?” YN says starting to pump his dick all over again. He’s right, for the past 45 minutes YN has been pumping Jacob, getting him right to the edge…then taking away every last sensation. She completely understands why he always wants to be on top now though, because it’s something about controlling someone’s pleasure that is criminally addicting. YN feels like she can’t stop flicking her wrist up and down, not when he’s leaking so much precum that her hand and his thighs are covered in it, or the cute whines that are just pouring from her boyfriend, gosh; even the cute little thrusts he’s trying to make while he’s still tied down, as if it’ll make him cum any faster.

Yeah, she’s addicted now. On the other hand though this is exhausting. She can be quite the little pillow princess, because all she wants is to be filled by Jacob, and now that she thinks about it, it would be a waste for him NOT to cum in her. Removing her hand from him Jacob whines, “Please, please baby I can’t take this I need to cum. F-fuck I need to cum so bad!”

As she comes from behind the chair, she sees exactly what she’s done to him. Jacob sits, slumped with his head hung back. YN can see every inch of sweat that gathers in the collar bone of his tan skin or lines his temples, she’s made a mess of him.

Looking to assuage any aches YN reaches behind him, pulling at his restraints. Jacob pulls his head up nuzzling into her chest, nipping at it.

“You’ve been so good for me baby, the best really,” she says, loosening his restraints completely; “but I think I’m ready to be your good girl again.”

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

thank you so much for the request anon

i don’t know much about the fem doms, but i have a feeling this won’t be YN’s last time 😁

my requests are still open, even outside of jacob (i’m still writing him though!) so lmk what you’d like to see

xoxo

Bunni

[byeoltoyuki]

[21:35]

↳ Pairing: Jisung x reader

❧ Genre : roommates to lovers / fluff / smut

❧ Words : +2k

❧ Warnings: oral (f), riding, (jisung being a menace)

❧ Summary : You loved your roommate. You really did. But sometimes, the urge to strangle him was strong.

Prompt: “On a scale from 1 to 10, how bad do you want to kill me right now?” “I’m hovering somewhere in the high thirties.”

A/N: This one was hiding in my notes for a while, I'm glad I'm finally done!

Likes, reblogs and comments are always appreciated :)

➺➺➺➺➺

You stared. And stared, for what seemed like eternity to Jisung, at the broken mug. You would think it was just a mug, nothing exceptional, not a big deal. Except it was, to you. The mug happened to be a present from one of your closest friends, a mug she had made especially for you. A mug she had made from scratch and painted all your favorite ghibli’s characters on it. A pretty, meaningful present. A mug that Jisung, your stupidly adorable roommate, also happened to love and borrow without asking. It wouldn’t have been a big deal if not for the fact that he was a clumsy mess, you knew one day an accident would happen.

And it did. 

“On a scale from one to ten, how bad do you want to kill me right now?” Jisung asked, voice slightly shaking while laughing nervously. The two of you had been living together for the past two years and of course with time Jisung had discovered your marvelous temper. He knew it was about to get bad and the wish to run away was getting stronger with every passing, silent seconds. Except, he also couldn’t resist the urge to push at your buttons. 

You took a deep breath and closed your eyes, trying desperately to keep your temper in check. You tried to tell yourself it was just a mug and that your friend would probably make another one if you asked, but you weren’t being particularly rational tonight. 

Jisung took a few steps back, for safety reason, ready to sprint to his room. Just in case.

“I’m hovering somewhere in the high thirties.” 

“Oh come on!” Jisung whined, “I’m sorry!” 

With one look at Jisung and you knew he was genuine but it didn’t make you feel any better. In fact, your irritation only flared. 

“I warned you, didn’t I?” You took a dangerous step towards him, your hands on your hips - your whole demeanor screaming danger which made Jisung gulp nervously and nod his head. “I told you something like this would happen, didn’t I?” And then another step and another nod from Jisung. 

“Tell my mom I love her!” Jisung hurried to say before starting to run for his life. 

“Come back here you little shit!” You yelled after him and ran. 

Jisung, despite being half scared for his life, was actually laughing and squealing as you tried to catch him, cursing him in the process. He grabbed the closest cushion and threw it at you in an attempt at slowing you. You dodged it easily. 

“Come on, Y/N!” Jisung laughed, “You can do better than that.” 

Someone had definitely a death wish. “You’re dead.”

“Only if you catch me.” He answered proudly and stuck his tongue which only riled you up some more. For someone who was scared of your outburst not longer than a minute, he was acting all brave and daring but maybe because seeing you in this state also amused him. He couldn’t help him. 

You lunged for him and sadly missed. He dodged your arms with ease, moved behind you and playfully, someone was being bold tonight, slapped your ass. 

“Han Jisung!” 

“That’s me.” 

“Don’t move and I promise you a nice and painless death.” You proposed, just in case. 

Jisung in response chuckled and shook his head. “Catch me if you can then, darling.” And he winked.

The little shit. You tried to reach him, once more, confident and yet he dodged you again – you groaned, growing frustrated with your failures. Jisung was getting closer to his room and you knew, it was now or never. You gave it all and jumped right onto his back, making him fall on the floor, you with him.

“Fuck.” He groaned, “I think I’m going to die.”

“Such a drama queen.” You teased and leaned over to poke his adorable cheek. 

“Please, have mercy.” He begged dramatically, trying to wriggle from under you to free himself but you pressed yourself only harder on his back. 

As your hands were getting dangerously closer to his waist, he guessed right away what you were about to do: tickle him to death. There was no way he would let you do it. Not without a fight at least. 

Jisung flipped you over with too much ease. You knew the boy had been spending some time at the gym with his friends, but you didn’t expect him to get so strong in such a short amount of time. You blinked, confused as he had your wrists pinned above your head, looking proud and smug as hell. Suddenly, you weren’t so angry anymore; quite the opposite. His proximity, the heat radiating from his body made you realize just how dangerous the situation you got yourself in was. 

“Now, I guess, you should be the one begging for your life.” His smirk only grew as he leaned closer. Just a little more and his lips would be on yours and deep inside you couldn’t help but wonder what it would feel like. 

It wasn’t a first for the two of you to play with fire, it happened too many times for the past few months. You didn’t know when things changed between you but it was slowly getting out of hand. 

“You know I never beg.” You huffed in response, pretending not to be affected by his closeness. 

If you thought your indifference would deter him, you were wrong. Jisung chuckled, unbothered. “Sure about that?”

Despite his words, Jisung let go of your wrists and pulled back to stare at you. You couldn’t help but wonder what was going through the pretty head of his. Was he just playing around? Or was he hesitating to do something else? Something that could potentially change your relationship. It made you pause; did you want it to change? As you looked at his pretty face, you found your answer.

“Ji?” Gently, you touched his face which made his body jolt in surprise. “If you don’t kiss me right now, we’re going to have a problem.”

It was a wild guess. Maybe you misunderstood his intentions but you couldn’t resist the temptation any longer. 

Jisung blinked slowly, once, twice, slowly proceeding your words and then, the next thing you knew he had his lips on yours. 

“Fucking finally.” He growled against your lips, going absolutely feral with the taste of your lips. He had been dying to have a taste, to finally have you in his arms. “Do you know how long I have been waiting for this to happen?”

“And whose fault is that?” You bit playfully his lower lip and smiled.

Jisung pulled back and feigned offense. “Excuse me but you never showed any interest in me!”

No matter how much you wanted to defend yourself, Jisung was perfectly right. You could have showed more but you were scared. Jisung was a playful and touchy spirit by nature, whether it was with you or with others. You had seen him being close to many women before which only made you unsecure – you didn’t want to ruin your friendship. Until recently.

“Should we talk about it or are you going to fuck me?” You asked instead. Not that you didn’t want to talk about your feelings, but right now you wanted to feel all of him.

“We should talk.” Jisung, to your biggest surprise, said looking perfectly serious.

You gasped, scandalized and incredibly frustrated. He pulled back from you and got back on his feet. He outstretched his hand to help you to stand. Annoyed, you slapped his hand, refusing his help, because yes, you were that petty. There was no way you could have a normal talk while being so horny.

You ignored him and started walking towards your room, needing a moment to calm down. Jisung, however, had other plans for you. You barely stepped inside your room, he had you pinned against your door, looking smug.

“Damn baby, I didn’t know you could be so snappy when horny.” He teased.

The urge to kick him was strong but you stopped yourself on time. Instead, you glared angrily at him. Sadly, Jisung wasn’t fazed. He pecked the tip of your nose and laughed.

“I was joking. Of course I’m going to fuck you.” If it wasn’t for his hand slowly sliding along your body, you wouldn’t have believed him, not when he was messing with you.

Jisung didn’t hesitate. He slid on the floor, on his knees, his eyes still on you – you held your breath, unable to avert your eyes. He looked so good, on his knees just for you. How did you get so lucky, you still wondered.

He gently slid your short along with your panties, helping you to step out of it. The sight of your exposed pussy took his breath away. He licked his lips, thinking about all the ways he could have fun with you.

“Are you just going to stare or?” You mocked him and playfully nudge him with your knee.

In return, Jisung bit your knee, making you squeal in surprise. “Let the man enjoy the view!” That being said, he stopped holding back. The first lick of his tongue was hesitant, slow, just to have a taste – enough to make you close your eyes and throw your head back.

“Shit,” Jisung growled and grabbed your thighs tightly as he pushed his face even closer. “Just so you know, I’m going to spend hours head buried between your thighs.” And you wouldn’t complain.

Jisung was feasting on you, moaning in satisfaction. Your pretty moans were only pushing him to lick more, to suck harder – it wasn’t enough. He was already addicted and it was only the beginning.

“Fuck Ji.” You moaned and grabbed his hair, pushing his face as close as you could, wanting so badly to feel more of his tongue.

With every stroke of his sinful tongue, you felt the heat inside you getting more and more intense; you were burning with both need for a release and need for him to wreck you. The moment Jisung pressed his fingers inside you, you were a goner. No thoughts, only pleasure and Jisung.

“I can’t wait to be inside you, babe.” Jisung watched you from between your legs, absolutely loving how lost in pleasure you looked. Loving, memorizing how you moaned his name, how you pushed your hips, how you arched your back. You were just so beautiful and his. “Come for me, love. Pretty please.”

His begging was all it took for you to come apart, a silent scream leaving your lips.

Jisung pulled out his fingers and got back on his feet. Without breaking the eye contact, he licked his fingers, moaning at your taste. The sight was so sinful, so sexy, you could come again. You grabbed him by his t-shirt and pulled him into a bruising and needy kiss.

You broke the kiss only to push him gently towards your bed. Without a word you got rid of your last piece of clothes and for a moment Jisung stopped moving, his eyes on you. You would have felt shy if not for the way he was looking at you, biting on his lips – Jisung loved the view.

“All yours.” You told him.

Jisung took off his clothes and completely disregarded them somewhere on the floor before getting on the bed. You smiled proudly at him and admired his perfect body. Jisung was beautiful, whether it was his mind, his heart or his body.

“I really like you.” You confessed

Jisung only smiled at you, fondly. “All yours.” He repeated your own words.

Without hesitation, you joined him on the bed, straddling him.

“Gladly.” Your hands splayed across his chest, you slowly eased yourself down onto him, letting him stretch you, feeling every inch of him deep inside you. You both sighed in relief. It took you a moment to adjust before finally starting to move, slowly, enjoying the slow drag of his cock against your walls, enjoying Jisung’s soft groan as you moved.

“Fuck.” His curse a whisper. Jisung placed his hands on your hips; his grip strong and firm as he helped you to move.

“You feel so good.” You moaned

If at first Jisung accepted your slow and gentle rhythm, his needs got the best of him. He flipped you over with ease making you gasp in surprise and plunged back inside you. He set his own rhythm; fast and frantic. His thrusts were strong, reaching all the right spots that made you toes curl in delight.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” He cursed, “You’re just so perfect, so good to me.”

“Ji,” You mewled, “Don’t stop.”

As if he could. He kissed you and you held him tightly against you, fingers digging into his back with so much strength you were sure it would leave marks and this thought alone made you convulse uncontrollably around him.

Jisung kept pounding into you, seeking his own release. He was close and yet he tried to resist, wanting to savor more of the moment, wanting to feel your walls around him. He just couldn’t have enough.

“Come for me, Ji.” You begged

Jisung exploded inside you will a groan, body shaking.

He pulled out slowly and you whined, still sensitive from your orgasm. He rolled to the side and instantly wrapped his arms around you, pulling you flush against him. You stayed like this for a while, enjoying each other’s presence, your warmth.

“Do you think your friend can make us two mugs?” Jisung finally asked, smiling sheepishly at you.

You chuckled in response before planting a kiss on his chest. “If you beg her.” And smiled mischievously at him. “But first she’s going to beat the shit out of you.”

“Lovely.”

[millenialfanfictionaddiction]

Being Team Japan’s Manager:

Miss Manager gets her Period

Team Japan x female reader (she/her pronouns)

Warnings: period talk, swearing, blood mentioned, period symptoms (cramps, vomiting, bloating, etc)

A/N: I need comfort right now, feel free to ignore

Honestly you should have seen the warning signs YN

But somehow you missed the notification from your period tracking app

You missed the sighs of being extremely tired, moody and just down right agitated

You cried for no reason the other day and it still didn’t register

I mean, it’s not like you are busy or anything

You are the team manager for Team Japan after all

Probably the one of the worlds most dangerous jobs

But also super rewarding 😌

You’ve been the teams manager for a few months now

And you’ve definitely had your period before during practice

But this, this was completely different

You see, never has your period fully started right in the middle of practice

And certainly not with this much vigor 😬

Let’s just say, you aren’t on birth control at all

But you also never really needed it

Because as shitty as birth control can be sometimes, it can be very helpful

Anyways, it was a normal Friday morning and you woke up feeling… off

Like just blah

Honestly you didn’t think much of it because the Olympics were a month away

Which meant that the boys were on edge

Practices were lasting hours and downtime was limited

Not to mention you were dealing with more Bokuto Emo modes than normal and more tantrums from Atsumu and Kageyama

Basically the fatigue and blah feeling wasn’t unwarranted

You checked the mirror, noticing you had a small acne flare up on your jaw

You sighed, putting some coverup on it before heading out

On your way to the gym, you stopped to grab you and the coaches coffee

A typically Friday routine you had developed

Walking into the gym, the sound of volleyballs hit your ears

As well as the agitating, grating voices of those hitting said volleyballs 😒

You barely hit the door when it starts

“YNS HERE!!” Hinata screams

“YN please tell me you finished the laundry yesterday, we ran out of fresh towels and I only have 5 stashed away!”Sakusa chimes in

“YN please help tape my fingers,” Hakuba adds

“YN you promised you’d measure our jump heights today too! I have to show Hinata that I can get higher!” Hoshiumi shouts

“YN do you have that extra nail files? I left my kit at home,” Kageyama says

“YN I need you to toss for me because these other idiots can’t do it like you do!” Atsumu whines

Literally it’s like walking into a daycare but with giant volleyball players 😅

“Guys give me like 5 minutes please!” You shout, walking over to the coaches and handing them their coffee before stomping to your office

“Is Yn ok?” Coach asks as the assistant coach shrugs

You just need a minute to breathe, that’s all you need

Too bad you work with people who don’t understand the idea of “needing a minute to breathe”

*knock knock*

You groan as your door open and Iwaizumi appears

Please, you don’t even want to see Iwa today

Damn YN you ok 👀

“Iwa what?” You say a little annoyed

“Damn, did you wake up on the wrong side of the bed or something? I just came to give you the training schedules,” Iwa said as you sighed and took them

“Sorry Iwa, I’m just feeling off I didn’t meant it,” you said as Iwa nodded

“It’s cool Yn but maybe drink that coffee or something to help?” He says as you sigh and sit down

You manage to drink approximately 1 sip before Aran is at your door

“YN hey! I was hoping we could go over some plays?” He said as you resigned yourself to the fact that today just isn’t your day

A few hours in, you get ready for the team meeting

Your walking through the gym when the first cramps hit

“Ohh ouch!” You whince as you grab your side

“YN, you good?” Komori asks, noticing immediately

“Yeah I think I’m fine,” you say

“You know Yn, when my tummy’s upset, I go to the brathroom and it helps a lot!” Hinata says as Kageyama rolls his eyes

“Hinata nobody knows more about the bathroom than you do!” He says as Hinata glares at him

“I’m sure I’m fine, it’s almost lunch anyways. I think I just need to eat,” you say

You grab your lunch, sitting with the few mature memebers of the team

The VERY FEW

Aran, Hyakuzawa, Iwaizumi, Komori, Yaku and occasionally Sakusa, if he’s not on one 🙄

Anyways, as your finishing lunch, you stand up and it happens

You rn 👉🏻🧍‍♀️😐😳

The fear in your eyes 😅 trust me YN, we’ve all been there

“Yn you good?” Aran asks as Iwa and Hyakuzawa look at you

“Umm I think my period just started,” you say

Now the fear in your eyes has transferred to their eyes 👁️👄👁️

Please Yn, nothing is off limits with these guys

They talk about bodily functions daily and some of them have sisters, so like they aren’t clueless to what a period is

Before they can even say anything you RUN to the bathroom, and sure enough

“Dammit!” You scream as everyone in a 20 mile radius hears you

“Uhhh Yn, you good?” Yaku asks, knocking on the door to the bathroom

“Yeah but uhh I don’t have a tampon, can you grab me one form my desk?” You asks as Bokuto runs to your office

At this point, they’ve all come to the bathroom hallway and it’s like a team effort to help you 😂

Team bonding if you will

“Crap there isn’t any in here!” Bokuto shouts as Atsumu runs to tell you

“Yn Bo said there isn’t any in your desk!”

“Shit, check my bag!” You scream

“Check her bag bo!” Hakuba shouts

“Nothing!” Bokuto shouts back

“Fuck!” You say, resigning yourself to the fact that you’ll definitely need to make a makeshift toilet paper pad

“YN do you want me to run to the corner store?” Hinata asks

“Would you please? I’m not really looking to make a toilet paper pad,” you said as Hinata nodded

“Wait what’s a ‘toilet paper pad’?” Atsumu asks

“YN send Hoshiumi a picture of the tampons you use and we will go!” Hinata shouts as Hoshiumi and him race out

“Is anyone gonna answer my question?” Atsumu says, annoyed

“Idiot she would have to shove toilet paper in her underwear to stop the bleeding until she got a tampon or pad!” Yaku says

“Omg this toilet paper is so course and had like zero absorbency!” Atsumu shouts

“I know Sumu!! That’s why that’s not ideal!” You say

“YN do you need pain relievers?” Iwa asks

“If you have some, the cramps are getting bad,” you say as Iwa runs to his office

He grabs a heating pack and some pain relievers

He comes back just as Hinata and Hoshiumi return

“Damn that was like 7 minutes impressive!” Komori says

Hinata and Hoshiumi 👉🏻💅💅

“Here Yn, we got them!” Hinata says passing the pads into the bathroom

You manage to get yourself sorted, leaving some pads in the bathroom as you exit

You come out of the bathroom and are greeted with a forest 🌳

“Uhh hey guys?” You say as Iwa hands you the heating pack and some pain relievers

“Are you ok YN?” Bokuto asks 🥺

You just laugh

“I’ll be fine guys, I deal with this every month but I’ll admit, I was a little surprised this time!” You said

“Ok well I think it’s time we get back to work,” Aran says

“I’m super hyped up right now!” Hinata says as him and Hoshiumi race back to the gym

“Is anyone surprised?” Iwa says

“I’m actually surprised they managed to handle the task of getting tampons for Yn,” Yaku interjects

“This isn’t Hinata’s first time dealing with this, he does have a little sister,” Kageyama added

“And Hoshi?” Hakuba says

“He probably just wanted to race Hinata,” you laugh

“Ok guys, let’s go! Yn go sit down and out that heating pad on!” Iwa orders

“Iwa I’m fine-” you argue

“YN I wouldn’t argue with Iwa if I were you,” Sakusa interjects

“Yeah he’s super scary when he gets mad!” Kageyama shivers

“WHAT DID I JUST SAY?!?” Iwa yells as you all stiffin

Aye aye captain 🫡

[zhenyaiam]

First Step

I made it pretty quickly so its not that good. I'm learning too much. So I don't have time. And Manny maybe not so good in it because I was only playing at the beginning of the second part. So yeah.

Warnings :Kissing, bad english

You had this uncanny ability to melt away her tough exterior with simple touches or just a gaze.. Even in the middle of a supply-check, as usual she was always nearby, Abby's jealousy flared when Manny attempted to flirt with you. Her protective instincts kicked in as she pulled him away "Manny" her gaze softening at the sight of you. She pulled Manny backwards. Making him confused and annoyed at the time. "Hey Y/N" She said as her blue eyes looking into yours. She was yours, but you weren't even hers.

You glance at Manny who was pulled backwards from you slighty raise an eyebrow. You look at Abby, the top of your head reached just her shoulder.

"Hey, Abby" You smiled kindly as you turn back to your work.

Her gaze was burning with a fierce protective light as she nodded, "How's it going?" She asked simply, her tone more soft than it usually is when you're there. Her fingers ran through your hair in a seemingly unconscious gesture, causing you to shiver. She glanced over at Manny who was still being pushed away from them and her lip curled into a slight frown before she returned her attention back to you.

.... "Good everything mhm" You nod and glanced at her for a second for a reassure blink and smile.

She leaned her head in, brushing her lips against your cheek as she spoke, her breath ghosting your skin. The way it sent shivers down your spine was embarrassing.

“...good.” She sighed, “Do you need help?” Her words were laced with a touch of sarcasm, knowing you probably didn’t but she just wanted to stay close to you.

You look at her as she kissed your cheek, not really want to make a big deal of it so just shrugged it of now. But it still shocked you a little.

"I.. If you want you can help me" You nodded.

She smiled, her eyebrow arching, “If I want...?” There was an obvious edge to her tone and the way she asked it wasn’t really asking. She leaned in close, a small smile curled on her lips, “No, I think what you meant to say was, ‘I’d love it if you could help me’.” Her words were laced with a tease, but she didn’t wait for a response before she began grabbing supplies and laying them on the counter.

"Oh you can shut up now, Abby." you chuckled and put the next box on the counter taking the things out, writing them in the notebook.

“Mm.” She grinned, “No.” She said plainly, reaching a hand up to playfully brush some hair from your forehead.

She rolled her eyes, “Do you even see the way that idiot is trying to hit on you?” She gestured toward Manny who took out the supplys from the van. Even with her back turned she could tell that he was looking at you time to time.

You just shrug and sighed continue with your job.

“Oh please, it’s painfully obvious that he wants to get in your pants.” She laughed, causing you to roll your eyes and chuckle slightly despite yourself.

"Abby leave him alone. He didn't do anything wrong"

You said as you organized the supplies back in the boxes.

“Oh really? Even when he’s *

always looking at you like that?” She shrugged and leaned against the counter, her gaze following Manny as he loaded the supplies into the room for them. She wasn’t going to give in yet though, “Or when he asked you out? Or that stupid nickname he gave you? ‘Muy Caliente?’” She laughed, rolling her eyes, her nose crinkling.

"Oh shut it, you are just jealous" You chuckled and looked up to her for a moment.

She raised her eyebrows, “And why would I be jealous?” Her words were a clear tease, even her tone was dripping with sarcasm. The corner of her mouth curled into a smirk.

“I’m sure I have no reason to be jealous.” She stated simply, folding her arms behind her back, “I’m sure that the nickname means nothing at allto you.” She rolled her eyes, the smirk widening ever so slightly into a smile.

"Of course not.." You shrugged.

She rolled her eyes again, “Uh huh.” She stepped forward, her eyes flickering with a strange spark for a brief moment as she leaned forward, her hand coming up to brush your cheek. Her voice grew quiet, “And you’re sure that I have nothing to be jealous of?” Her words were teasing, but there was a touch of seriousness underneath them, she wanted to know your answer.

You sighs turning her to face her fully.

"No. Why are you even jealous? You act like we have a thing, Abby" You scoffs.

Abby was just a friend to you.. and you.. You didn't saw Abby more. Abby knew you this way... She though it more likely.

As Abby looked at you, her expression softening at the though of her feelings. She knew that she was only a friend in your eyes, but still, hearing you say it hurt. She was good at putting on the mask of a tough soldier, never showing any emotions and always being hard-willed. But with you, she broke her mask and couldn’t help but feel a little upset about it.

“Mm, I wonder.” She muttered sarcastically, “Maybe it’s because of the way you look at him.” She mumbled.

She watches as you finishing with your work.

She waited a few moments before she finally spoke up, “Hey.. What do you think about Manny?” She asked as she casually leaned on the counter, her fingers tapping a silent beat against the table. She had to hear your reply and what you thought about him, it was driving her crazy.

"I don't know. He is a good company. But he is weird. Sometimes." You turned to her.

She rolled her eyes with a faint grumble before she nodded, “He’s weird sometimes, more likely always, alright. But what else do you think about him?” She took a small step closer, “Do you think of him as a friend? Or… More than that?”

Her voice was soft as she spoke, clearly hoping for a particular answer.

"I would find it hard to even call him a friend" You chuckled.

She breathed a small sigh of relief, her body relaxing. She had hoped for an answer like that, that you would just say that he was nothing more than a weird friend or even just an “acquaintance”, but still a small spark of worry flared up within her.

“So you don’t have feelings for him, right?”

"Noo"

She breathed a sigh of genuine relief, her heart fluttering in her chest as she let her words sink in. No feelings for that idiot Manny, that’s what she wanted to hear. She moved her hand to brush a strand of hair from your forehead, a small smile on her face,

"But why are this so important for you?" You laughed as you looked up to her.

She hesitated, her eyebrows furrowing as she quickly tried to think of an excuse as to why she wanted to know. She couldn’t tell you the real reason, about how she actually felt about you. She was a hard-willed soldier and her emotions never got the better of her, but around you there was an exception.

“Just…” She began quietly, “I don’t think he’s good enough for you." She simply stated.

"Oh, mkay.." You smiled up to her

"Its kind of you, that you worry about me" You smiled.

She shrugged, her fingers playing with the hem of her shirt. She wasn’t worried… not exactly. She just didn’t want you with someone who wasn’t good enough for you, someone who wasn’t her. She pushed those thoughts away for now, “I.. care about you a lot, okay?” She said quietly, “I don’t want you with some idiot like that.”

She found herself returning your smile as she relaxed slightly, “I’m serious though… You deserve someone who actually appreciates you.” She reached her hand out, placing it gently on the side of your neck, “Not some jerk who just wants you for your looks.”

Her hand began to gently rub the side of your neck with her thumb, the skin-to-skin touch sending a shock through her system as she let her hand linger on your neck. She held back a shudder, “I want you to be with someone who’s actually worthy of you… Someone who takes care of you.” Her voice was soft, a tone of vulnerability peeking through ever so slightly.

"And who would you recommend?...?"  You ask, maybe it was time for act up

She hummed, her thumb still drawing light circles on your neck, her touch incredibly gentle. She was quiet for a few minutes, debating with herself in her mind whether she should be truthful or not. She knew what she wanted to say, but also knew that it probably wasn’t the right thing to say. She was silent for a few moments, hesitating, until she finally spoke,

“Me.” She said quietly.

You look up to her, a litte bit surprised that she was willing to say this. It was clear or most of the time, she liked you. Like you weren’t blind. But it was a surprise Abby had the courage to tell you this. You laughed but not laughed at her you just were in disbelief.

Her fingers gripped you loosely, her hand still resting against your neck, “Why are you laughing?” She grumbled, but it was playful, “Don’t think I’m joking, I’d treat you so much better than he would.”

"Well yeah-" You said your eyes never leaving hers.

“Well yeah? That’s all I get?” Her tone was playful, a slight hint of a whine in her voice as her fingers continued to gently rub your neck. She took another step closer to you, her body only a mere few inches from yours, “What do you mean ‘well yeah’-“ She teased.

You just shrugs.

Her hand gently slid from your neck to rest against your lower back, pulling you slightly closer to her. Her nose gently brushed against yours, her breath fanning over your skin, the corners of her lips curling into a small smirk.

“That’s what I thought.” She muttered quietly with a smug tone.

Her grip against your back tightened a little bit, her fingers gently bunching up the fabric of your shirt as she rested her forehead against yours. She took a quiet breath and closed her eyes, letting herself just enjoy the touch of your body against hers. Her hand continued to rub gentle circles on your lower back as she let her other hand drop from your neck to your waist.

Their lips almost touching

She took another small breath, the tip of her nose gently brushing against yours as her lips hovered just above yours. She could feel her heart beginning to flutter like a frantic bird in her chest, her skin feeling warm from your proximity and the way her feelings were quickly getting the better of her. Her body felt like it was on fire, and it took everything in her control to keep herself from bridging the small gap between your lips.

Her hands gripped you a little more tightly, her fingers digging into your skin with a slight desperate energy as she held herself back. She desperately wanted to kiss you, her feelings and instincts telling her to do it, but her mind told her it was a bad idea. She let out a shuddering breath, a soft groan escaping from her throat involuntarily as her eyes flicked down to your lips, staring at them as her own began to tremble slightly.

Her lips hovered just above yours for what felt like an eternity. The skin-to-skin touch was driving her crazy, and she couldn’t resist the temptation any longer. She wanted to feel your lips against hers, to feel the warmth of your body, to feel you.

In a moment of vulnerability and recklessness, she gave in to her desire, closing the distance between you and allowing her lips to gently press into yours.

She let out a shuddering breath as her lips connected with yours, sending a shiver down her spine as her mind went blank. Your lips felt like the ultimate temptation, the ultimate feeling of pleasure. Her eyes closed as she sank into the kiss, her hands holding onto you a little tighter as her lips moved against yours in a slow and gentle rhythm.

You break the kiss for a minute, you were in shock, then going back, it was too good.

She was in a slight daze from the kiss, her mind still trying to process the feeling of your lips against hers. But the moment you broke the kiss, she let out a small whine of protest, her eyes fluttering open to look at you. She was about to question why you had broken the kiss, but her words were quickly silenced when you reconnected your lips.

Her heart fluttered in her chest, a wave of warmth washing over her body as the kiss continued. Her hands gripped you tighter, her body instinctively moving closer to yours, craving more of the sensation. Her mind was fuzzy and clouded, every other thought pushed aside, her mind focused solely on you and the feeling of your lips against hers.

But when the kiss would got passionate Manny interrupted them.

When the kiss began to grow more passionate, deep, and heated, it was interrupted by the sound of someone clearing their throat. Abby’s breath hitched in her throat and a mixture of anger and surprise filled her. She reluctantly pulled away from the kiss, her eyes snapping open quickly to glare at whoever had interrupted the moment.

"Oh Manny can't you say something when you come here?!" You asked him, in an annoyed tone. Sometimes it was too much of him.

He chuckled, a small smirk on his face as he replied with a casual shrug, “Sorry, I just came to see where you were.” His eyes flicked subtly over to Abby, taking in the very obvious sight of them both being flushed and panting, “Looks like I interrupted something though.”

"Well im here, I finished with the supply check if you curious"

He chuckled again as he raised his hands up in a “surrender” manner, “Alright, alright, I wasn’t trying to be nosy.” His gaze flicked back over to Abby, a mischievous tone in his voice, “Just doing my duty of being a loyal best friend and making sure no one’s taking advantage of you.”

You raise an eyebrow

He smirked, glancing back and forth between the two of you, his eyes filled with curiosity and amusement. He decided to push your buttons a little more, “So, what was going on between the two of you before? Looked pretty hot and intense in here.”

You sighs together with Abby.

He chuckled again, clearly enjoying himself as he continued to tease you both. He pushed his luck and went a step further, “Yeah… it looked like things were getting pretty intense. I’m surprised you didn’t end up on the desk" he laughs mockingly and turning to walk out "Get a room next time. Anderson."

[azsazz]

Another vamp!az blurb cuz I’m down bad for him

He unsheathes the knife from his holster, reaching out for your hand to place the silver weapon there. You study it, nothing the cobalt gem embedded in the hilt, the runes carved into the handle in a mesmerizing manner. You wonder if they have meaning, but your heart is in your throat and you can’t speak.

Azriel guides your hand, twisting the blade so it’s facing himself and pressing the tip right into his chest, where his unseating heart rests.

You whimper, trying to pull your hand away but his hold is firm, dark eyes serious as he keeps you still.

“You’re in control here,” he speaks, voice much softer than you’ve ever heard before. You stare up at him, brows furrowed as you realize what he means. The silver blade, your hand on the hilt. If you don’t want him, if you want to be free of him, all you have to do is press in, the blade will do the rest. Azriel’s hands fall away from yours as soon as he’s sure that you aren’t going to drop it. “If you don’t want this, stop me.”

You hold his stare, hand shaking against the hilt of his weapon. He doesn’t move, letting you get take the chance to decide. You know he won’t fight you.

Taking him in, you let yourself really take him in. His shaggy black hair, not ever swept into order because he’s always running his fingers through it. His skin, that maybe has once been tan over time, washed out with the lifelessness that plagues him, silver scars here and there from battles before your time.

Whorls of dark ink across his chest. They’re hypnotizing. Bargains, he’d once told you. Deals he’s had to make during his many centuries alive, because all he has to bargain with are his skills and his body.

The deep, dark wings pulled tightly into his back. He hasn’t taken you out since the night he’d taken you, and a part of you aches for the feeling of the wind on your face and his arms around you, though you don’t know if its the freedom from him you seek or the adventure of him you need.

Those hazel eyes that always pin you to your spot, always follow you through a room like a moth to a flame. They remind you of home, of the woods surrounding his estate, so dark and ominous and calling you to them without even trying.

You swallow harshly. You don’t know how long it’s been, standing here with him, knife pressed to his chest. It would be so easy to lean your weight on it and kill him. He would let you too, of this you know.

But, you don’t want that, you realize. You’ve never wanted that, even when you shouted and fought and prayed that you did.

You want him.

You want him now.

In a burst of courage, you fling the knife away, pressing into him with a speed that catches him off guard, but your hands are already around his neck and pulling him down into you, lifting yourself onto the tips of your toes so you can reach his mouth, pressing it against yours.

Your body flares with heat. There’s nothing sweet and soft about this kiss, it’s a frenzy, hot and demanding and a fight of control. You know he’ll win, but you hold on a little longer, loving the way his tongue feels against yours, tasting—no, devouring you to your very core as his fingers tighten around your hips and he hauls you into his arms.

[shona22]

Sterek fic rec: October edition (2024) 🐺 ⚓

Each month, I'll be sharing some of my favorite fics (and I'll make sure to backup and download them for safekeeping). Please note that I have a soft spot for darker themes, so warnings and tags will be plentiful - reader discretion advised!

Want specific recs? Feel free to send me an ask with your preferred tropes or genres, and I'll do my best to find some from my bookmarks. 

Pay by the hour, but don't leave so soon by JettieBettie 

"This is the last time," he tells her, heading toward the door.

"That’s what you always say. But I end up wearing his face for you again and again.”

Note: an incredibly hot pwp. I won't spoil much, but it does have an amazing Stiles voice regardless of being so short. 

___

Step towards me, step away by Areiton 

The truth is, he’s been more than a little bit in love with Derek Hale for a long time.

Note: A compelling exploration of an unconventional relationship. Complex characters, angst, and favourite tropes (Derek angsting over age gap, Kate comparisons) lead to a satisfying ending. Worth the read!

___

I found you hidden in plain sight (why'd I take so long?) by Gorgeousgreymatter 

Stiles is pretty sure he’s hallucinating. He’s got to be. There’s no other plausible explanation, he thinks, as he sits on the sidelines of the lacrosse field and feels the cold, hard bench underneath him, the roar of the crowd at his back like the worst white noise machine in the world.

There’s no other reason why he sees it, the hulking, black figure of a wolf peering at him from the treeline behind the bleachers. Its eyes flare in the glaring glow of the stadium lights, but they’re the wrong color, he thinks: blood-moon red instead of cobalt blue, but the familiarity of it all makes his stomach roll and clench.

Note: Gods. Another one my favourite trope, where Derek gets his alpha spark back because of Stiles. The line, the one which had me gnawing my pillow at 3AM:

“Jesus, Stiles. You never stopped being mine, did you?”

___

Somebody that I used to know by Percybyssheshelly

Stiles and Derek have been together for months.

The trouble is, they weren't yesterday.

Note: short, but packs a punch. If you're having a bad day and want some relatively short angst with happy ending fics, this one's for you. 

___

We live (not as we wish to) as we can by Endrversed

“I’m not a closet case,” Derek repeats, teeth gritted.

“Oh, yeah?” Stiles taunts, daring Derek with his eyes. “You coulda fooled me.”

“I’m not – gay.”

Derek spits that word out. Stiles snorts, no humour in it.

“Sure. You’re totally straight, dude. You just get all up in my personal space every time we’re alone. Stare at my lips any time you think no one’s looking. Well, I’m looking, Derek, and I know what you want. I know what you really want is to bend me over and fuck me.”

Derek is a closeted frat boy, and Stiles gets under his skin. Enemies to fuckbuds to <3

Note: Heed the tags. After DBC, I've been craving closeted frat boy Derek with the perfect Stiles voice. This one delivers. Endversed's mastery seals the deal.

___

UST (an unfortunate series of tropes) 

Stiles and Derek sitting in a tree, M-A-R-R-I-E-D.

Wait, what?

Or: Stiles thought he and Derek were finally getting to be bros, and then Deaton had to go and ruin everything with his stupid spell.

Note: Amazing Stiles voice + mature Derek. Re-read worthy! Accidental soul bonding and more - my ultimate tropes. 10/10, left craving more.

___

Stronger in numbers by bloodwrites

Stiles doesn't want to be the Alpha's mate, he doesn't want to be locked up for his own protection, and he's damn sure he doesn't want to be dealing with blood and werewolf parts on a weekly basis, but somehow that's what his life has become.

That's not going to change, unless he can convince Derek to trust Scott and the hunters, because it's the only way they're going to chase the Alpha Pack out of town.

Of course, that only solves two out of three.

Note: please heed ALL the tags. Also, remember, Derek’s somewhat of a certified jerk in this. And yet, somehow, that's the fic’s appeal. It honestly has the feels of a classic 2010-2014 fics, and that makes me eat it up even more. Also, it's HOT. 

___

Werewolf love songs, vol 1 by aggybird. 

Peter decides to use the power of Barry Manilow's music to make Stiles and Derek fall in love.

Meanwhile, there are monsters and stuff, and Stiles and Derek are stupid.

Note: amazing fic very close to my heart. I love meddling uncle Peter, and the gradual progression of their relationship. It's also such a classic early sterek fic, and like the other ones, I'm always starving for it. It's funny and incredible with Stiles’ voice. 

___

Rapture, sweet rapture (won't you put your hands on me) by queerly_it_is

Somewhere in the stringy mesh of his overactive brain cells, Stiles is sure there must be memories of what it was like to not have a totally possessive creeper with a leather fixation for an adopted brother.

Note: please heed the warnings. It's pseudo-incest! 

[mymainwastoocluttered]

Birthday Cake (Ortho Shroud)

There's actually a tradition about birthday cakes back where the Prefect comes from.

Original idea by @strawberry-pie-thoughts

NOTE: I only write for female reader but everyone is welcome to read it!

Ortho knows all of his brother’s fidgets. And the one Idia is doing right now is the one that means “I’m trying to hide something but I’m too emotional over it to hide properly”, which makes the younger Shroud’s curiosity flare each passing second.

“Brother, what’s the matter?”

“Nuthin’.”

Yet that’s the answer he gets every time. That and a nervous shrug that means “please don’t pressure me into telling you because I will and then I’ll feel bad about it.” At least, Ortho consoles himself, that means whatever his brother is hiding isn’t anything bad or dangerous, just possibly mildly inconvenient. Ortho can deal with “mildly inconvenient”, specially for the sake of his introverted brother who agreed on throwing a party tomorrow at Ignihyde for Ortho’s birthday despite dreading any sort of social event.

Ortho hasn’t had his emotional capacity for very long, but considering what his friends and the internet said, Idia’s efforts are the greatest show of love—not that Ortho ever doubted his brother’s love for him, but it feels good to be reminded. Plus, and this is something he’ll guard in his heart for himself, it feels like Idia is actually seeing him and not him. He truly sees Ortho for who he is, and loves him for him.

“Ortho, it’s past midnight,” Idia’s voice gets Ortho out of his thoughts—getting lost inside his own thoughts, quite the novelty—, prompting the boy to look at the time.

“It is! That means I’m not one year older!”

“Yep, you’re now officially seventeen. Happy birthday, Ortho.”

He can’t help but hug his brother tightly, too happy for words—and too overwhelmed by emotions to even try, even though he has up to 20 languages fully saved in his database. Words also can’t describe the feeling he gets when his brother hugs him back, whispering well wishes under his breath—too shy to say them out loud but too loving to not say them at all.

“We know you’ll have a party later, but we wanted to do something special first…”

“We?”

Just as Idia lets go of him, the door of Idia’s room open to show his girlfriend—and Ortho’s hopefully soon to be sister-in-law—, Prefect (Y/N) (L/N), holding what seems to be… a cake? It’s difficult to tell, because the decorations on it—stars and trees and three figures that look suspiciously like Ortho, Idia and (Y/N) sitting around a bonfire—are moving and if he concentrates, he can hear a soft whirring sound from it.

“Happy Birthday, Ortho!” the girl squeals, handing the cake(?) to Idia so she can squeeze the younger boy into a hug and place very enthusiastic kisses all over his face. “You’re growing up so fast!”

“Technically, I’m still the same size-”

“Mentally and emotionally, dear.”

“Oh. Thank you!”

Though he will admit to already drawing up some designs for future bodies. He can’t look like a child forever, now can he?

“We know you can’t actually eat—yet, anyways. Who knows what will happen in the world of tech?” she winks at his brother, who tries to hide his blushing face behind the cake(?), forgetting that his hair gives his emotions away. “But I remember you really liked the first slice tradition from my country when I told you about it, so we made that sculpture. There’s a part that’s removable, so you can give it to whoever you want~”

Human memory is way more fickle than an android’s, and yet these two did their best to remember something so small and seemingly insignificant. Just to make Ortho happy.

“... I may not have tears, but I feel like I’m crying…”

The couple is quick to hug him, and Ortho has never been happier to be able to feel.

“... can the first slice go to two people?”

“I told you we should separate it in two, tech genius.”

“But then it wouldn’t be the first slice, but the first and second.”

“It’s fine, I can just laser it in half!”

“Ortho, no!”

[rjthirsty]

Put Together

Rating: G

Words: 534

This piece was written for @venulus' Learning How to Love Yourself content challenge. I don't really have much else to say about it, except I'm hoping to do more because examining my flaws and figuring out that they're still lovable is a really nice feeling.

It’s the middle of the night.

I wake up soaked in sweat. My heart is pounding. My hands are shaking. The scenes from my nightmare flash in my mind in the dark. It was a dream but it left me shaken.

Gilbert stirs next to me and before I even get a word out - before I even sit up to hug myself and try to shake the fear from my mind - he snuggles against me. His cool body feels nice. His hands pull me to him.

“It was just a dream, little rabbit.” He reminds me, soothingly. “You're safe here.”

I feel my body relax. He's right, I'm safe with him. I cling to him as I drift off again.

It's the middle of the day.

I catch my reflection in a shop window and note how far my stomach bulges out. How wide my hips are. How large my rear is. I sigh inwardly and my shoulders slump. On the other side of the window are a set of mannequins sporting outfits that would never fit me. They're forms sleek and mimicking an ideal size and figure, not the pear shaped body I have.

Gilbert wraps his arms around me, hugging my back flush to his chest. He engulfs me and peers into the store window leaning his chin on my shoulder. “Did something catch your eye, my little rabbit?”

“I couldn't pull off something that cute. I bet they don't even make it in my size even if my body could somehow look like that.”

He's quiet for a moment. “I think you'd be stunning in something like that. I'll make it for you. Custom sized and perfectly fitted.”

My heart aches, but it's from warmth. I can't help but smile.

It's late morning.

My body is lead and it hurts to move. The pain isn't horrible today, but I just don't want to deal with a flare-up. I don't move if I don't have to. Staring at the rows of books within my line of sight, I sigh outwardly.

“Do you want another blanket, little rabbit?” Gilbert pops into my vision like a concerned cat.

“It's not that bad. I can get some things done.” I’m trying to convince myself.

“There's no reason to push yourself. Rest and take care of my little rabbit.”

Another blanket is layered on top of me and the heat helps the stiffness and pain. I can rest today. Maybe tomorrow will be better.

It's early evening.

We're out with my family and I scour the menu in an attempt to find food I can eat with my medically restricted diet.

“A little slip up won't kill you.” My mother says. It won't. She is right. But it'll be pain and illness for days. Gilbert leans towards me and points out all the options available that he could find, searching for me before finding his own food.

I'm touched.

He cares about me so much.

In a world that has picked me apart, piece by piece, and told me every bit was not good enough, he collected them all and glued me back together with love, acceptance, and gentle understanding.

In his eyes, I am - and always have been - perfect.

[batwynn]

I hate that I’m here… again. I’m so sorry that I’m here again. But once again I’ve been trapped in a difficult situation that I’ve tried literally every way to avoid, prepare for, and roll-up-my-sleeves and do it myself. But at every turn we’ve been ignored, let down by professionals, etc. until I’ve been forced to go into debt just to heat my home because others can’t seem to take any responsibility for things that they’re responsible for. This is genuinely my last ditch effort to find even a little help. I can not go through this again. I’m exhausted, sick, and trying my best to scrape together some commission work while dealing with a really bad flare up of my autoimmune disease. (Hooray) I’m coming up short no matter what I do, and I’m desperate.

Please, if you can, donate and/or signal boost this!

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