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pricegouge · 1 day ago

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Get Her a Dog (She'll be Happier For It)

Part Five | master list | taglist | MDNI

Soap x reader, Price x reader, eventual PriceSoap x reader

series cw: cheating. dubcon. angst. cuckholding. pet play.

chapter cw: angst, cheating, dubcon, breeding kink. john gets slapped

reader is fem and fat

He comes home with a puppy some weeks later, timed perfectly to coincide with your house finally starting to look like a home; no boxes left to be chewed up, as if he were really trying to be considerate. A puppy was not discussed but you're helpless against its charms, infatuated from the moment it first teethes on your fingers. You name him Gilbert because it makes Johnny laugh the hardest, though it gets shortened to Gil within the hour.

You've heard that one of the biggest tests a couple could go through was a move, but clearly that statistic was measured among couples who tackled these issues together , as the move goes through surprisingly easy, even despite the stress of handling most of it yourself. Not to say Johnny doesn't help where he can, touring houses with you and signing paperwork without a fuss. It's just hard to wrangle him when he's suddenly needed much more often around base so you shoulder the brunt of the work and clap excitedly each time he praises you for a job well done when you make progress, traversing the unknown terrain of legalese and open houses with no aid besides an (admittedly very helpful) realtor. Johnny calls it your solo mission, makes it into a bit of a game for you. It's sweet, fun. Everything you've been missing about his company, and despite all the apprehension the ambitious project had instilled in you, you end up feeling closer to your husband than you have in years. It's nice to feel like a team, and you wonder if maybe this is the exact reason he spends so much time with his own. Hard to be mad at him when you think of it like that.

He's with you when you attend your final open house, broad shouldered and strong in the oversized kitchen; the only man among those assembled who can fill it out, make it seem homey instead of austere. You make out like teenagers in the master bath when you both decide this is it, the one . Johnny lifts you onto the counter with a heavy grunt as you whisper against his lips about putting a baby in you, fueling him on as he rips his belt off and rucks up your skirt. He only shushes you when your begging gets too loud, afraid of being caught, though it's almost rendered meaningless with the way you whine when he pulls out, painting your belly. Johnny tells you you should wait until after the move to avoid stress on the baby and you can't deny he's right so you put on a happy face for the rest of the tour, keep it in place through the whole hair pulling process of finalizing the sale. It's not hard to fake, pleased as you are with Johnny's initiative to move, and it's still in place on moving day when the two of you collapse, exhausted but relieved, onto the mattress that still sits on the floor of your new bedroom.

It finally breaks that first night, when Johnny's got you on your back, heavy weight bearing down on you where he leans against the backs of your thighs, pinning you in place underneath himself. He's worked himself into a sweat, breath coming in heavy huffs which spill hot as a bellows across your cheek. You're useless but to clutch at his thick shoulders, moan your encouragement. He answers in deep grunts, synchronized with the slap of his full balls against your ass. You don't beg him this time, don't think you need to with the way his eyes are locked on the sight of your cunt clenching around him, trying to keep him buried deep.

You know something is wrong when he pulls out to jerk himself off over your tits, but he's so sweet afterwards that you let it slide, allow yourself to be lost in the warmth of his embrace, at least for the night. You weren't ovulating, anyway.

Gil is a handful, the best kind of trial run - one you're not sure you can give your husband the credit for considering you're not entirely certain he had the foresight necessary to assign you a trial, though one you're committed to rise to regardless. The dog's a quick study, breezing through potty training within two weeks, though the chewing takes a little longer to break. He trains you just as much as you do him, molding you into the perfect dog owner in record time. You coordinate vet visits with practiced ease, spend an inordinate amount of time reading dog psychology books (seriously, you never realized how developed the field was), and walk him religiously - a practiced balance between just enough for exercise and not enough to hurt his fragile little joints, meticulously calculated based on vet feedback. Johnny becomes enamored with him just as quickly as you, though he's not quite as strict about adhering to the rulebooks as you. (Another perfect insight gained into your upcoming trials as new parents. You were learning so much already.) There are some days you don't know who has more puppy energy, Johnny or the dog, Gil often collapsing into a small, fluffy heap long before Johnny would clamber to his feet, complaining about his bad knee. When you tell him he could be helping burn off Gil's energy by training him to play fetch properly, he interrupts before you can prattle on about what your books say about the benefits of fetch by reminding you that wrestling is how puppies play with each other, so that's what he will be doing.

"Besides," he affirms, scooting Gil's supine form along the kitchen tile with a heavy hand planted on the pup's bloated, exposed belly as the beast gave half-hearted nips to his owner's thick fingers, "it's good. Teaches him how tae handle rough pats and stuff, jes' in case."

"Like, in case an overeager baby pokes him too hard?"

You tell yourself you're imagining the way his shoulders tense, thick delts creeping up toward his ears. "Aye, exactly."

***

The idea for the housewarming party comes up after Gil's first obedience class, when the trainer comes around your car at the end of class to ask how you've liked it and Gil barks his head off at her from the backseat. You're shocked, having never seen him behave this way but the instructor just smiles, unconcerned.

"Do you have many guests around the house, Mrs. MacTavish?"

It takes you by surprise, realizing that you haven't really, not since the move. Behind it comes an odd sense of pride in your husband, ashamed you hadn't realized before that moment how far he's come from needing to be with the boys nearly every night. "No, not often lately."

"I see. This is pretty normal behavior for a puppy. Just a little territorial. It should be an easy fix with proper socializing, given how smart Gil here is. I'd start with having some guests over and make sure you calm that -," she motions to Gil's anxious whining from the other side of the glass illustratively, "- reaction before allowing your guests inside. I don't sense much aggression in his behavior, probably all bark and no bite," she laughs, "but do you think you'll need help?"

Ego flares hot for a second, undeserved and unaccounted for. You'd blame the strange way you've equated raising this dog with proving you're ready for a baby if you stopped to think about it for more than three seconds but you don't, too busy biting out a positive response.

Johnny takes to the housewarming party idea enthusiastically, probably happy to have this strange self-inflicted embargo on visitors lifted. You treat it all very officially, happy for the distraction amid dog walks and dog parks and dog grooming and -.

It starts with handwritten letters instead of texts, though you can't admit to yourself why until you're thumbing through your contacts list for P.O. boxes and your thumb hovers over John's name too long, the urge to call him hard to combat. You don't need the back and forth, the memory of how you'd almost kissed him still far too fresh despite how you've tried to bury it deep. You leave his invitation short and impersonal, even managing to make yourself laugh when you picture yourself spraying it with your favorite perfume like some lovesick teenager. But the invite is sealed unsprayed, and it's shuffled off into the post just as unceremoniously as the rest of them, and when John texts you days later to confirm he will be there, you note it just as mildly as the rest as well, and you lay yourself down that night with some sense of pride.

Even if you're ovulating now and your husband definitely shouldn't be letting you drift off to sleep with any dignity.

***

Years of hosting the boys for dinner should have prepared you for an evening such as this, but friendly gatherings around the tiny kitchenette of the old apartment were one thing, and the first proper dinner of your forever home was another beast entirely. It didn't help that in all your excitement of fancy proper invites you'd managed to invite Kate and her wife, though the severe woman had shown up stag and you can only imagine that meant she'd been in town on business, a fact that lends itself to the intensity with which she stands in your kitchen now, probably thinking to be congenial but only serving to make your hands shake as you pull a bread bowl from the oven under her watchful eye. You can hear Johnny greeting yet more guests in the other room, his loud boisterousness infectious enough to have the newcomers laughing with him before they'd even properly stepped through the door. You keep an ear out, asking Kate if she'd like to go say hi to the new guests when you detect the light lilt of Kyle's latest fling because you were determined to pawn her off on someone before she watched you - disinterestedly, scathingly - ruin the whole dinner because you were not made out for the cooking reality show lifestyle and you couldn't handle the pressure of her very presence.

"He'll come to me," she says mildly, sipping on her wine so elegantly it didn't even stain her teeth and you curse when she proves herself right, Kyle filtering in mere moments later as if paying respects to a mob boss. His easy charm loosens Kate incrementally, but you attach yourself to his date, Maddy, regardless, throwing yourself into her company for as long as she offers it, your little gaggle growing when your cousin joins some minutes later.

Gil trots around happily, the mild concern you'd had about his approachability dead and buried after the first guest's arrival had prompted only a singular bark before being reprimanded with a water bottle, rewarded for being calm on the second greeting with trainer treats. He'd been nothing more than a vibrating bundle of excitement ever since, wagging his tail with each new guest and chewing on the end of your aunt's ugly scarf only once. You coo at him about being a good boy whenever he deigns to approach you, but for the most part he's just happy enough to mingle, weathering clumsy pets with a dignity better suited to a much older dog. Johnny catches the impressed way you watch him at one point, nodding smugly as if he alone could take credit for the dog's behavior. The peck you press to the corner of his lips after draws hoots from his teammates when he can't let you go without a proper kiss.

John comes uncharacteristically late, though you're aware of his arrival from the moment Johnny answers the door for him like a neighboring planet with which you are locked. Orbital resonance, affecting each other before you even lay eyes on him. From the kitchen, you pretend not to listen as he greets his boys each in kind and you wonder how quickly he notices your absence, if he's calculating the appropriate time necessary to wait to come through and greet you with just as much care as you. For all the restraint you'd shown while sending his invite, now that you can hear the rough scratch of his voice in your home again, you suddenly remember it wasn't always near-misses, and you want your friend back. Want him to scoot Maddy and your cousin off to the side so he can help you put the finishing touches on the meal, or maybe distract Kate who is still having a hard time mingling with the other women .

He does neither, instead distracts himself with Gil for as long as the dog lets him, commenting to Johnny about he wasn't aware the two of you had adopted.

You nearly slice through your own finger when you hear Johnny's answering laughter over the sound of cutting chives, the way he says it was at John's own behest.

It irks you, more than it ought to. You'd joked to yourself from the beginning that you didn't believe Johnny had an idea like that in him but still, Gil has been the highlight of your days ever since Johnny had brought him home and you didn't much relish attributing the idea to John at this point, especially not after…

'John's own behest.' Where did he get off anyway?

You move through dinner with a practiced detachment - though, one you've never had to use on most of the assembled before. When he does finally come to greet you, John is put off by your careful reservedness, though he seems to be the only one to notice it, blessedly. Johnny sets the jovial tone for the night with ease, the assembled crew following after his general cheer easily. You even see Simon loosening up a bit, playing with Gil when he thinks no one is watching him. Determined to have a good time with your friends and family, you allow yourself to be carried along as well, settling in between Johnny and Kyle at the table when dinner is finally served. It's nothing terribly formal, an overflow of guests having taken up residence on the couch in the adjoining living room. When you look around you see plenty of people already eating, the din of laughter having abated a few decibels seeming to confirm that at least everyone seems to like the food enough to keep them from chattering too much, a point Johnny seconds when he doesn't sit immediately, instead deciding that was the moment to thank everyone for attending.

"Okay, sorry, this'll only take a sec, but ah jes' want tae thank everyone for coming tonight. Ah ken it's a wee bit of a trek outside the city now, afterall." Johnny pauses to allow the small crescendo of polite laughter. He seems slightly embarrassed, the apples of his cheeks ruddying under so much attention, but he did it to himself and you're not about to share the spotlight so you let him flounder, ever the better under such circumstances out of the two of you. "Honestly, though, everyone here tonight is very important tae us and I ken I speak for both me and the missus when ah say we love each'a ye's and thank ye fer always bein' there fer us." He plows over the small collection of coos from your family evidently unable to weather the storm. "An' a special thanks tae ye, cap. Wit'ou' ye talkin' some sense intae me, there never would'a even been a new house tae warm!" He holds out his glass as if to give a toast. You see a handful of people follow suit, but Johnny only has eyes for his captain, watching expectantly as the older man struggles to bite back the grimace the sergeant's words brought on. After a slight pause, John raises his tumbler stiffly and Johnny grins, seating himself with a small, pleased smile.

John avoids your eyes, long enough that the moment stretches while everyone waits to see if you'll take up the reins, or if Johnny will follow through on the toast he'd started. Distracted, you tuck your hands into Johnny's arm as if to portray the doting wife, but you remain seated, as if confused. Your voice is thin and brittle when you tell everyone to please dig in. The tension swells and ebbs, a tide brought in by a collective shrugging on shoulders, let out with a handful of awkward chuckles. Johnny seems oblivious, tucking into the spread with a borderline indecently appreciative moan. His hand finds your leg under the table, squeezes to gain your attention so he can compliment the chef. You feel vapid and airy when you tell him it was nothing really, as if you've become untethered from the scene around you. There's something you're missing, or rather something you haven't missed at all but which you refuse to look directly at.

Diagonal from where you sit, John refuses to look directly at you.

***

Without the distraction of wrapping up the meal, you're actually expected to host. A terrible development considering you're two Scottish expletives away from filing for divorce. Irritation eats at you, has you peeling absently at hangnails with too much abandon. After your second trip to the bathroom to staunch some mild blood flow and contemplate your financial standing without Johnny, you emerge to find John waiting for you in the hall, his face stern and grim, yet dire. The same expression you'd nearly kissed off of him.

You pass by him without a word when he goes to reach for your elbow.

The worst part is that none of it is even John's fault. You don't know the circumstances under which he told your husband to get his head out of his ass, but he's not to blame for the fact that it was necessary in the first place. Effect, cause. There's a whole song about it. But you don't want to be mad at Johnny for once, not after how well the two of you had been doing. Finding out Gil had been John's idea was bad enough, but that wasn't an issue in the same way knowing your husband would have been content to live the rest of your days - raise a kid - in some cramped York flat was. All the ways Johnny had changed, all the maturity he'd shown. All the reasons you'd been feeling so much more positively about your marriage as of late.

All because of John.

You're becoming less adept at hiding your frustration as the night drags on. Kate is among the first to leave but she lingers in the door, eyes hard and scrutinizing as you ramble farewells, for once too unconcerned about putting on a good face for her. It's not your smartest decision, as Kate - who has likely known something was wrong since the moment she stepped through the door - chooses then to show her hand, parting with a cryptic, 'He's no better,' before making her exit properly and the thing is, is that you know that, but without lense of Johnny's would-be recent growth to obscure them, all you can focus on are all his massive shortcomings the last few months.

He'd called buying your forever home together your solo mission, for Christ's sake. And you'd thought it was cute.

By the time the party has dwindled to the small collection of regulars, Johnny's mates, you've had just about enough of playing your role, wandering off to the kitchen without so much as an excusal. There's a version of tonight that ends with you making too much noise while cleaning up, a passive aggression that would draw the attention of the other team members who'd then filter out the same way Kate did earlier, with small, meaningless words of advice that will also go unheeded. It's hard to decide what you do want when the list of things you don't seems to go on forever, but a fight with Johnny when you're so very wound up is not a good idea and even you can recognize it in the moment.

Though there's another option, left of center.

Where before your dance with John was oppositional, it was too graceful, coordinated to be adversarial - more polar, fixed and measurable. Whatever it becomes as the night drags on is too pointed, an aggression gauged by the lack of it. John yields when you linger, follows when you need space. Peripheral presence, stalking.

So you let yourself be herded into the laundry room and you hiss and you spit but he doesn't weather it for once, instead using every opening he can find to lay blame at your feet, tell you you should have been more outright with your wants from your husband all along. You demand to know how he can say that when he of all people has known your building frustration with Johnny's disinterest in listening to your desires, and he turns it back on you by suggesting you never should have told him in the first place, should have spent all your energy learning to communicate with the man you'd said your vows to.

You surprise yourself, how low you're willing to sink. "Oh and I should take your advice on that, should I? Did you learn to listen before or after she left you?"

To his credit, John barely flinches. Or maybe he does, in his own way, such tells trained into unrecognizable ticks. John draws himself up to his full height, lets himself drift half a step closer into your space so his next words seem uncharacteristically menacing. "Your welcome for the house. Your welcome for the dog, " he snarls - sarcastic and cruel. A side of him you've always known existed but which has been carefully kept from you.

Bait is easy to spot, harder to resist. "Where do you get off, anyway, suggesting we get a dog? Afraid I can't handle a baby? Think I need some sense talked into -?"

"Of course not. I think you'd make an excellent mother. " Though his words are reassuring, his tone still falls over you like a rock slide, threatens to crush you under his frustration. "But it was either a dog or nothing because that man -," his fist clenches hard where it hovers by your ear, pointing over your shoulder in the vague direction of the living room on the other side of the wall, "- was not going to give you a baby. And I know you're lonely, so I -."

Slap.

Through the stinging in your palm, you have a brief moment of satisfaction, noting the way John indeed does flinch as you scowl up at him. "Some substitute."

If you had thought about the way you pictured this route going before setting upon it, you suppose you would have pictured a moment of stunned silence, storming past John's shocked expression, perhaps knocking your shoulder into him just to watch him sway on locked knees. But you hadn't thought it through, because you're impulsive and a fool for thinking you've known John well enough to predict him. But there's that other side of him, that side you've never seen before tonight which can call even your reckless husband to heel, out there in whatever hells they toiled under. It's that part of him who stands before you now.

John is confident where you'd expected confounded, decisive where you'd expected dazed. Your hand doesn't even make it back to your side before he's grabbing you by the wrist with a firm, callused grip and spinning you until your back rests flush against his chest, his arms wrapped around your front so he can pin you there, keep a hand planted over your mouth when he leans in to huff harsh breaths over the shell of your ear. "You're a spoiled little brat, you know that? Soap's a good lad, just needs some guidance. But you're so bloody impatient you can't wait for him to grow into it."

Protests fall flat from your tongue, get swallowed up by the firm hand which remains clamped across your jaw. John shuffles forward and you're forced to move with him, your steps clumsy and tangled with his own until he gets you hinged over the dryer, his body still flush against the back of your own. He presses close enough that his knees worm between yours, heavy boots knocking your stockinged feet aside to make room for himself. When his free hand paws across your hip to the apex of your thighs and just grips you there, your breath stutters through his fingers, heavy and humid.

"Got you a house, woman, christ , what more do you want?"

When his grip changes on your jaw, you seethe. "You know what I -."

"Yeah," John's fingers slip through your folds with slick ease when he pushes the gusset of your panties aside, his fat digit testing your cunt with barely any preamble. "I'll get you that, too."

It's rushed, skirt thrown over your hips and a few fingers to make sure you're wet enough. John's not quite as thick as your husband (a relief when you think about what it had taken to accept Johnny's fat cock in that open house quickie), but he seems to feed into you forever, forcing a place for himself so deep within you that you were certain he'd take all of you with him when he left it, all your soft vulnerable bits pulled right along behind him.

Lucky he doesn't seem to be going any time soon.

For all his rush to get inside you, John takes his time about bottoming out. Takes even longer after , pressed up flush against you with his fingers circling your clit carefully, just enough to keep you from tipping over that edge of pain. His other hand cups your breast, seems to take its measure with a satisfied huff. You wonder if he's imagining them all full and swollen, and pull a curse from him with the way your cunt flutters at the thought.

"John, we can't -."

"Really shouldn't," he agrees, but his hips have finally started moving, and he leans you further into the dryer, the hard metal biting into the plush flesh of your thighs. Your hands brace against the top of it, send some of Johnny's folded t-shirts tumbling to the floor.

"I mean it."

"'S'what you wanted, sweetheart." His next thrust scrapes along the entirety of your back wall and you can feel the way your cunt grips to keep him close. "Want this pretty pussy bred, yeah? I've got you."

Your voice is too whiny to be taken seriously when you try again, the thin sound of his name too desperate.

John's hand trails down to your belly, holds you there just as reverently as he did your tit. "Tell me you want it, sweetheart. Tell me you want to filled with my fuckin' seed."

It's not worth it to respond at first so you let yourself be carried by the slow tide of his movements, entire body rocked up and back with how deeply he fucks you. Your panting by the time the rigid line of your spine loosens with it, your head lolling back onto his shoulder so he can brush a whiskery kiss against your cheek, trailing up to your mouth. His lips are more chapped than you'd expected, his beard softer. You don't think about what it means that you'd had expectations. He tastes like smoke and burnt tea, heavy and bitter because god forbid he add any sweetener to anything. You want to sit him down at your kitchen island and make him a proper cuppa. You never want to see him in your house again.

"Don't cum inside."

A low grumble builds in his chest, like an avalanche against your back. You can hear the echo of it in his voice when his lips glide against yours, deceptively soft. "No? Don't want my baby, sweetheart?"

"John, I'm married, " you plead, though the ring you actually bothered to wear today feels more like a leash than anything now - a flimsy mark of ownership, easy enough to slip.

There's no masking the snarl in his voice this time. "Yeah, I'll fix that too."

#get her a dog #pricesoap x reader

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sheep-from-rad · 3 days ago

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Hi! Sorry if this is weird or anything, this is my first time sending an ask lol

But I just finished reading your writing about the singer/influencer reader and omfg I love your brain. Like imagine the reader did a cover of/wrote like spit in my face by ThxSoMch or Cigarette Ahegao by Penelope Scott (love her sm btw-) cause just imagine the GUILTTT

Imagine the Batfam listening to their music and just hearing the bitterness in their voice as they sing “Screwing everything up, doing everything wrong, In my defence I wasn’t supposed to be around this long, so” HGDECANZZKNFBVD

Anyway, I love your writing and I hope you have an absolutely amazing week! Take care of yourself too- drink water, eat some food and try to get some sleep ml <3

Nah anon you're cool. I love reading asks. ALSO credits to Luludelulusramblings, they made the originally made Influencer reader. Batfam belongs to DC as usual. Singer reader post: here

You know, in the Art History year 1901-1904, Picasso started the Blue Period where he only painted in the shades of Blue. It started due to the death of his friend, later his financial struggles, and of course the current state of the society. Blue Period art was so good but so doleful and depressing that no one wants to hang it in their house. Singer! Reader started their career covering mainstream songs, band songs, maybe even vocaloid.

Their blue period started months before they planned to leave the manor. It was a simple cover of MARINA’s ‘Are you satisfied?’ A lot of burnt out overachievers ate that cover, even Tim himself. The song is basically the reader questioning the Wayne last name. Sure it was a goldmine to others but to them it’s a ticket to misery. One song cover turned into many song covers, enough to make a long playlist to play at 3 a.m. when you’re about to have a breakdown.

The whole playlist? Batfam avoids it because it reminds them of the times they could have been giving you love but they didn’t BUT at the same time they can’t really avoid it. It became like those guilty pleasures playlist. Damian loves and hates reader’s ‘The Family Jewels’ cover because it reminds him of the fact that he and the reader are basically on the same boat. They were just children who needed attention and love. He got that attention and love immediately because of the whole league of assassins backstory. He won’t admit it but the weight of the role weighs like tonnes of iron on his shoulders.

Jason, Bruce and Cigarette Ahegao will roll together so much. That man has twice the amount of trauma Bruce had and his coping mechanism sucks. All the aggressiveness was just a coping mechanism, underneath he’s a man with conflicted feelings and those years of being dead and suddenly being resurrected didn’t help. Let’s face it Bruce is a tired man who lives a double life. He's a man who dresses up like as a bat making sure the city is safe but he can't cover all grounds. The neglect on reader was unintentional but neglect is neglect.

Dick with reader’s cover of ‘Stressed out’ by Twenty one pilots, no explanation needed. ‘This is me trying’ by Taylor Swift with Cassandra, Stephanie, and Tim. Cassandra and Stephanie being raised by villains and Tim being an overachiever to have his parent’s attention. His parents being always away and realizing he basically did the same thing to the reader by making them feel invisible.

Double guilt if they left the playlist on autoplay and ‘Daddy issues’ plays. Any version but I think the original fits the bill. Reader ends their blue period with a cover of Mother Mother’s ‘Burning Pile’ basically saying ‘Yeah fuck it, it’s over. I’m burning it, I’m leaving it, I’m closing the chapter’. But to the Batfamily, it meant renewal and turning a new leaf, an invitation to make things better.

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soaps-mohawk · 1 day ago

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Okay so sorry for the panic but I had to take a couple days for myself to gather my head.

I am rewriting part of CRCB. Chapter 34 onward to where we are currently.

The story will stay up as it is. I won't be deleting chapters or reposting anything. I'll just be pasting in new text to replace the old one. I'll be doing them all at once so there won't be any confusion or anything since things will change.

Not big changes though. Just a little plot and some details. It'll be more noticeable later but it'll make sense once we get further into the story past where we are now.

Hope that answers all of the questions...

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doomhands-jr · 3 days ago

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The Devil's Advocate - Chapter 14

Pairing: Delinquent!Noah Sebastian X Pastor's Daughter!Reader

Summary: Noah is a delinquent with a lot of anger at the church. You're a pastor's daughter plagued by moral perfectionism, charged with overseeing the community service he's been sentenced to complete. You've never encountered true temptation before. How will you fare up against Noah, who not only isn't bound by the same rules of purity as you, but actively scoffs at them?

Rating: 18+ Minors DNI

Warnings: Smut

Masterlist

Thanks to @flowerynerds for the banner!

Thanks to @throughwoodsanddirt for the beta!

Buy me a coffee

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Noah pushed in slowly. That was always his favorite part: that slow first push, the quiet gasp she makes at the initial stretch… It was almost as good as coming.

Fuck, she was so wet. She gushed around him, hot and slick around his throbbing cock.

He groaned against her neck, snaking his hand up her shirt and squeezing the soft flesh, thumbing over her perky nipple. She threw her head back as he thrust into her again, exposing her neck for him to lathe his tongue across. It was hot, and slick, and he slid in and out of her over and over again.

--------

“What the—ow!”

You were still half-asleep when your elbow crashed into the coffee table, but you woke up just fast enough to catch yourself before your head followed suit.

Adrenaline coursed through your veins. You struggled to catch your breath. Searching around for what had sent you tumbling off the couch so early in the morning, you caught a glimpse of Noah’s tall silhouette disappearing around the corner. A few seconds later, you heard the latch to the bathroom door close softly.

Your elbow throbbed, and you pushed up the sleeve to see the damage. Already, an angry red lump had begun to form.

What the hell had happened?

You’d been having a good dream, though you couldn’t remember what it was about. Just that you were warm—a stark contrast to the unexpected chill that slowly started to register now that the spindly fingers of sleep had begun to release you from their clutches.

You exhaled slowly, noticing a chill in the air that hadn’t been there before.

What were you dreaming about?

Noah was there, you were fairly certain. The two of you were pressed up close to one another, him behind you, and…

…oh shit.

You clapped a hand over your mouth, eyes growing wide.

That was real.

Everything froze as your brain began to fill in the holes of your memory.

You and Noah had fallen asleep on the couch together, and you were sure you’d gravitated towards each other in your sleep. Beyond that, and this may or may not have been real, but you thought you felt movement.

Your skin tingled with its own memory—one your brain couldn’t yet latch onto. The back of your neck, your right breast, all along your back, your ass…they thrummed with the knowledge that Noah had been there. You could almost hear him groaning softly in your ear as he moved against you. Your neck understood what it felt like to have him sighing, open-mouthed, against it, and down in between your legs, you were damper than you’d ever been.

It was too much.

Flopping back onto the couch, you stared at the faint outlines of smoke stains that decorated the corners of the stucco ceiling.

Noah must have woken up and abruptly realized he’d been dry-humping you in his sleep. That’s probably what had sent you tumbling into the coffee table, him getting up in such a hurry.

You rolled over to face the back of the sofa.

It was so nice. You didn’t even need to be cognitively present for it to know that it had been nice. You let your eyes drift shut, allowing your body to sink into the memory of him behind you, arm wrapped around and clutching at your chest. Noah, firm and hot against your lower back, grinding himself into you.

You reached down to cup your sex over your clothes. Not much—just enough to relieve some of the tension.

You must have fallen into a micro-sleep because the next thing you know, you woke up to the sound of Noah clearing his throat. You blinked your eyes open to see him standing awkwardly at the far end of the couch. He shifted from foot to foot, clasping his hands in front of him.

“Sorry about that,” he said. The words were awkward as they tumbled past his lips. “I, uh, had to go to the bathroom.”

“It’s okay,” you said, pretending you had no idea what had happened.

“Power’s out,” he continued. “We should probably get you back to your dorm.”

You sighed, not wanting your time with him to be over quite so soon. The last time you and Noah had been sexual, he’d disappeared immediately after. You wondered if it was a pattern of his, whether or not he would get in his head, decide your presence in his life was too much trouble, and ghost again.

Part of you was already preparing yourself emotionally for that.

“What time is it?” you asked.

“Almost nine.” He crossed the room to open the blinds and let the sun in, flooding the dark room with light. “Jesus,” he muttered, scanning the scene outside.

You sat up, craning your neck to see what had drawn that reaction out of him, but didn’t have to wait long.

Overnight, the snow had collected in droves, piled so high you could barely make out the cityscape underneath it. The road out front showed evidence that salt trucks and plows had already begun working, but that just meant that the snow had been pushed to the side in large piles, blocking sidewalks and driveways. In the yard, the landscaping had been blanketed over, sharp edges reduced to vague white shapes that were your only clues that beneath the ice, you may find where the sidewalk stops and the steps to the porch begin.

“Looks like the power’s out all over this side of town,” said Noah. You looked over to find him thumbing over his phone screen. “And my shift got canceled.”

“Yikes,” you said. “Phones are still working, though?”

He nodded, striding across the room to check outside the front windows.

You fumbled around in your bag for your phone, opening it to see a text from your parents asking you about the storm, as well as a notification from the university.

“Power’s out at the university too,” you said. “Generators are down. It says a temporary shelter is being provided at the fire hall just off campus.”

Noah disappeared down the hall, coming back with a bundle of garments in his arms. He dropped them on the floor, then picked out a black hoodie from the pile and threw it on before looking at you.

“Get your coat on.”

You stared at him blankly, then out to the window, and then back to him. “Noah, there’s no way I can make it to the fire hall in this,” you said. “The sidewalks aren’t even passable.”

“I know,” he said, throwing on some sweatpants over his basketball shorts and tying a knot in the drawstring. “We have to check on the neighbors though. There are some old people that live down the street. We gotta make sure they’re okay.”

You slapped a palm against your forehead.

Of course.

How had you missed that? Usually, you’d be the first to jump into service mode, always thinking of how the people around you were affected by problems before worrying about your own comfort. Truthfully, you were a little ashamed you hadn’t considered it.

You allowed that shame to motivate you into action, throwing your coat on and searching around for where you’d put your boots.

“Do you have any shovels?” you asked, working to right a sleeve of your jacket that had turned inside out when you removed it last. “We could at least clear the sidewalks for people so they can get to a shelter if they need it.”

Noah tossed you an extra pair of socks for you to slip on over the ones you were wearing. “Yep,” he said, zipping up a heavy black puffer coat. Then he slipped into a pair of heavy black work boots and began lacing them up. “They’re on the porch. The fire hall’s only a few blocks away. Let’s work on shoveling and salting the sidewalk and then we’ll check on houses as we go.”

You nodded, pulling on your gloves and following Noah out.

Ridding the sidewalks of snow was tedious, but the two of you weren’t the only ones working at it. Across the street, a few men worked to get their sidewalk cleared. Down two blocks were another few people with snow shovels, chipping away at the thick blanket of snow.

As soon as the pair of you cleared the sidewalk in front of a house, you knocked on the door to see who might be inside. So far, only two houses were still occupied in the area. The rest must have evacuated prior to the storm or were visiting relatives for the holidays. One older couple had a fireplace in the house and were taken care of. The other—a frail elderly lady who lived alone, had already arranged for her son to pick her up in his truck and take her to his house.

The two of you worked until lunch, where you heated up a frozen pizza in Noah’s gas oven and ate in relative silence before heading back out to finish shoveling the next block.

The work was heavy and strenuous, but it allowed you to clear your head until you were devoid of thoughts and feelings and existed simply as a body, utilizing its strength to accomplish a task. You worked until your muscles burned with the effort and sweat caused your sweater to cling to you and your fingers to prune beneath your gloves despite the cold.

Ten or so meters away, Noah had his back turned to you as he stuck the shovel beneath the pile of snow, nudged it deeper with his heel, and flung it back over his shoulder. He worked far quicker than you, those days at the gym providing him with ample strength and stamina while you struggled to accomplish even half as much.

There was something about how driven he was to help his neighbors that had you in your feelings. He never once complained or acted like it was a chore, and he never expected any thanks, either. He did it because it was the right thing to do.

You turned back to your own section of the sidewalk, punching through the snow with the shovel again and straining under its weight while you tossed it into the yard. You’d developed blisters on your fingers a few hours ago, but kept pushing through, determined to see the sidewalk cleared. It took until the sun was three quarters of the way across the sky to finish the job, but ultimately, you managed it.

Heaving deep, frozen breaths that cracked your lips on the way in, you locked eyes with Noah and shared a mutual understanding: the work wasn’t finished.

“Fire hall?” you suggested.

Noah huffed a laugh, face red and skin scrubbed raw from the way the wind had whipped at it all afternoon. “Yeah,” he said, and you both ditched your shovels on his porch, heading to the hall.

You arrived to a flurry of activity. The hall was in the middle of being converted into a temporary shelter. A handful of volunteers were busy setting up temporary cots, carrying supplies in from trucks, assembling care packages, and distributing blankets.

You and Noah parted ways for the time being, him heading to help with the unloading of supplies and you making a beeline over to where two middle-aged women were in a corner, sorting blankets into different piles.

“How can I help?” you asked.

“Oh! Good, glad you’re here,” one of them chimed immediately, not even bothering to introduce herself or ask your name. She handed you a pile of folded blankets. “Would you mind setting one of these on each of the cots? Come back when you run out and we’ll have more for you.”

You got to work, methodically distributing the blankets, weaving in and out from the cots. Some already had occupants, who gratefully accepted the offerings. You noticed a number of them looked like they may have not come from the most secure living environments, possibly unhoused, and it pained you to think of them facing the elements on their own. Rather than fighting back the emotions, you let them spur you forward, determined to see as many people taken care of as possible.

Once all the blankets had been passed out, you made your way to the kitchens, where volunteers sorted donated food from boxes into piles. Again, you got right to work, asking how you could best be of service and not minding when you were given the task of sorting expired food from fresh. You didn’t even squirm when you had to shovel out a pile of rotten potatoes from the bottom of a crate, though the smell alone had your stomach clenching uncomfortably.

After that, you got to work scrubbing dishes leftover from the morning’s meal service in preparation for dinner. The staff at the kitchen were in the midst of preparing large batches of soup to hand out, complete with bread and sides of vegetables, and when you finished with the dishes, you switched to chopping carrots for the soup.

The whole time, the only thing you could think was that this was what philanthropy was supposed to be. There was no ulterior motive to ensure the people receiving help believed in a specific god or religion, just a deep desire to see those in need taken care of.

It was nearly eight o’clock when you finally stopped to take a break. Warm at last, the sweat dripped down from your temples and your lower back, and you started to realize just how exhausted you were. It was a good tired, but tired nonetheless.

Wiping your brow, you collapsed into one of the metal chairs lining the hallway outside of the kitchen. As you drank deeply from your water bottle, you observed the scene before you:

The entire community, or what remained of it, had come together to help each other out. Old and young, rich and poor, all working beside each other to ensure everyone was taken care of and had what they needed.

And in the middle, lading soup into bowls and handing them out was Noah.

In the back of your mind, you knew that the modern depiction of White Jesus wasn’t remotely accurate to what the actual person probably looked like. Biblical iconography has been whitewashed over centuries of European colonialism, and the real Jesus looked a lot more like the colonized than the colonizer.

Still, the small part of you that fell in love with the depictions of Jesus you grew up with couldn’t help but notice the similarities between the man that hung from the crucifix in your childhood living room and the man that stood before you.

Glued to your chair, you watched in awe as Noah smiled at the strangers he served. He offered food to the hungry, rest to the weary, and comfort to those who sought it.

Several things dawned on you at once: that the metaphor playing out in front of you was disrespectfully on-the-nose; that you didn’t have a simple crush on Noah, but instead actual, tangible feelings for him; that acting on these feelings would mean taking a serious risk considering he’d already hurt you before; and that you were going to act on them anyway, and in many ways were already in the process of acting on them.

It wasn’t butterflies, but an entire hornet’s nest that erupted in your stomach.

Holy shit, you were in love with this man.

You forced yourself to breathe slower, counting to eight on each exhale because the last thing you needed was to lose it in the middle of a crowded fire hall.

You had to slow down. Was it possible you were deifying him? Had you put this person on a pedestal, failing to see him for who he really was? Had he reminded you of a figurehead you’d always admired, and was that why you were convinced you were in love?

It was possible. You’d been known to idolize crushes in the past.

But Noah had been up front about his flaws from the moment he met you. If anything, you’d had to dig deep to find the parts of him that were pure, like what you were currently witnessing.

You observed him, taking in the way he greeted everyone as they passed him in line, ladling soup into bowls and handing them off with a warm smile. With his hair net and apron, he may have looked more like a lunch lady than any religious icon, but you couldn’t call the humble kindness on his face anything other than Christlike.

Gratitude. That was what you were feeling. You were overcome with gratitude for the opportunity to know this person.

Though there were perhaps a few more tasks you could have finished if you’d really looked, most of the work was done by that point, and you were struck with the notion that perhaps the best work you could do at that point was to take in everything happening around you. To let it change you.

So you did.

--------

Walking out of the fire hall half an hour later, you and Noah strolled down the cleared sidewalk in companionable silence, both tired from the day’s events and content to reflect on the shared feeling of a job well done.

When you came upon the intersection that would take you to your dorm and Noah back home, he finally broke it.

“You heading back to your dorm?” he asked.

“Yeah. I’m gonna grab a change of clothes and probably head back here for the night.” You shoved your hands in your pockets, rocking back and forth to dispel some of the nervous energy that had built up in your gut.

“Power’s still out, then?”

You nodded, having just checked on your phone before leaving the hall.

“What about you?” you asked.

Noah looked down the street in the direction of his place, then back to you. “I was gonna head to my studio. I’ve got a wood stove in there. Keeps it pretty warm.”

You shifted your weight from foot to foot, not wanting to end the interaction, but not sure how to keep it going until Noah chimed in.

“You’re welcome to join…if you want.” You looked at him, watched the steam of his breath swirl in the air as it exited his lungs, noticed the earnestness in his face, the vulnerability behind his eyes.

In the pit of your stomach, you were aware of what could happen should you take him up on his offer. The energy between you had been building for quite some time, and there was something in the air that night that hinted at the unknown—that whatever happened between you that night, it would be formative. You wouldn’t walk out of that shed tomorrow without knowing exactly where you and Noah stood.

“Yeah,” you said. “That’d be nice. Thanks.”

“I’ll walk you to your dorm if you still want to get changed.”

“Thanks,” you repeated.

Inside, you trembled with nerves, already having been overwhelmed by the emotions of the day and anxious about what might come next.

Those feelings from earlier—they didn’t hit you like past crushes. They weren’t something that needed to be acted upon or expressed immediately.

You didn’t need to know whether Noah felt the same. It wouldn’t crush you if you found out his were platonic, though you knew you were about to find out.

Even if nothing happened tonight, you knew you’d be okay. Your feelings were selfless. They arose from the knowledge that this was a person you cared about, whose company you enjoyed, and whose wellbeing you cherished.

You reflected on them on the short walk to your dorm. When you arrived, you fumbled in the dark to find your phone to use as a flashlight.

The two of you climbed the stairs slowly. Your battery was almost dead so you turned the brightness to its lowest setting, which made navigating through the darkness a little more difficult.

Once at your dorm, Noah waited politely outside the door while you changed into a fresh pair of pajama pants and a sweater, taking special care to scrub your teeth with some toothpaste and rinse your mouth out with a bottle of water that was sitting on your night stand. You spat into the trash, feeling much better than you had earlier. It had been almost a full day since you’d brushed your teeth and they’d started feeling gross.

You threw your phone charger in your purse in case the power came back on in the middle of the night, then checked to make sure you had everything else you might need before leaving.

“Got everything?” he asked once you made your way back out into the hall.

“I think so,” you said just as the battery on your phone finally gave out.

“I got it,” said Noah, pulling out his own phone. You could only make out his silhouette in the darkness, but his presence was still comforting.

“Thanks,” you said. “Lead the way.”

There was no light or warmth in the studio when you arrived. It was just as cramped as you remembered, and the added chill left it feeling less than cozy.

Noah immediately got to work loading the small wood stove in the back while you bundled up on the couch with a few blankets that were stacked in a corner. He fiddled around with some old newspaper as kindling, threw in half a brick of a starter log with a few thin strips of wood on top, then started building out the pile with thicker logs until he was satisfied and lit it, keeping the door of the stove open.

“Should be warmer here in a minute,” said Noah, sitting back on his heels to watch his work.

“Hey,” you said, shifting to the other end of the couch to be closer.

Noah turned his head to you, quirking his eyebrows up in curiosity. “What’s up?”

“Thanks for today,” you said, bringing your knees up to your chest and hugging them. “It felt good to help out.”

Noah averted his eyes and chuckled, flashing that grin you loved so much. “Just doing my civic duty, ma’am.” He finished with a tilt of his head, as if he was tipping his hat to you and you giggled.

“Still,” you continued. “Not everyone cares about the people around them as much as you. It was refreshing to see.”

Noah fidgeted with the lighter in his hands, flicking it a few times in lieu of a response. You allowed him to play off the compliment, knowing full well that sometimes you tended to be too heartfelt with your sentiments, but you were glad you said it, just the same. He deserved to know.

“Want some wine?” he asked, reaching under his desk and fetching a bottle out of a small fridge that had now been rendered useless in the power outage.

“Please,” you said, sitting back further into the cushions and watching the flames dance up the sides of the stove while Noah uncorked it with his teeth.

“I don’t have any cups,” he said, plopping down beside you and taking a swig from the neck. He handed it to you and you followed suit, wincing at the bitterness that flooded over your tongue. “Sorry,” he said, frowning. “I like a dry wine. I should have mentioned that.”

“It’s fine,” you said, swallowing the large gulp with some effort. You caught Noah working to suppress a smile and you passed the bottle back to him. He took another swig and then tensed as the liquid made its way down.

“Hypocrite,” you teased.

Noah sucked in a breath. “That wasn’t the wine,” he defended. “I shivered. It’s fucking freezing.” As if to emphasize, he wrapped his arms around himself.

“Oh,” you said. That made more sense. “Want to share?” You lifted the edge of the blanket and gestured for him to join you.

Noah sighed, scooting close and pressing into your side. “Fuck, you’re warm.”

You giggled, adjusting yourself on the couch so you could curl into his side for more warmth. You brought your knees up to your chest and wedged your frozen toes under his thigh, the double layer of socks no longer doing enough to keep them from going numb. He offered the wine to you again and you took another drink. Now used to the flavor, you found it wasn’t that bad. It had a richness you couldn’t appreciate on the first try.

“How do you normally spend Christmas?” you asked, passing the bottle back to him.

“Usually I’m working,” he said, wrapping the blanket tighter around him. ��That takes up most of my time. If I’m not, then I’m either writing music or playing video games.”

“Doesn’t it get lonely?” you asked.

Noah chewed on his lip, then took a sip from the bottle, held it in his mouth for a second, and swallowed. “Sometimes,” he said, then wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you closer. “Not right now, though.” You flushed, burning under his touch, despite the cold. “What about you?” he asked. “What’s Christmas like at home?”

“Ha!” you spat out. “We’re so busy with church events we usually don’t get around to actually celebrating.” It wasn’t entirely true. You did receive gifts, but you often opened them whenever you could get around to it, in between helping your family organize different toy drives, attending special services, participating in productions and leading the children’s pageants. There was no time for the kind of cozy holiday celebrations you longed for. That’s why you’d been so excited to stay on campus this year—you could celebrate however you wanted.

“That sucks,” he said.

You shrugged. “It’s not so bad.”

You chanced a look up at him to find the firelight flickering in his eyes. There was a quiet intensity in the way he held your gaze. Nerves ignited in your stomach, sending the wine churning and causing you to squirm in his hold. For a second, it looked like he might try to kiss you, until he took another sip from the bottle of wine and passed it to you.

You supposed it was wishful thinking on your part, considering how he’d been very clear about his boundaries. Even this much physical contact was more than you’d bargained for. Still, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of loss once the moment had passed.

“So you really left the church, huh?” he asked, drumming his fingers on your ankle. You sipped from the bottle, working to keep the nerves in your stomach from spreading out through your whole body.

“It was time,” you answered. You offered the bottle back to him but he declined, so you took another sip. Half the wine was already gone, and you’d started to feel the pleasant buzz creeping through your veins.

“The faith itself or just the organization part?” he asked. He wrapped his hand around your ankles and adjusted your legs so they could drape over his lap. The backs of your thighs met the top of his and they immediately warmed upon contact.

“I don’t know,” you answered, trying to focus on the conversation instead of the tingles sparking to life everywhere your body connected to his. “I don’t know what I believe anymore, and at this point, I don’t really care. It might be good for me to figure out who I am when I don’t have anyone telling me who I should be.”

“I can respect that,” said Noah, sliding a palm up your calf. Jesus, was he even aware of the effect he had on you? For a minute you said nothing, choosing to focus entirely on his touch. You leaned into the couch, letting your head rest against the back cushions and your eyes drift close. You didn’t care if you were letting your cards show—Noah might as well know just how much you craved him.

“What about you?” you asked after a while.

“What about me?”

You opened your eyes to find him quietly regarding you. “Any plans to surrender your soul to the Good Lord?”

Noah snickered softly into his chest. “Not at the moment,” he said, taking the opportunity to pick at a stray thread on your sweatpants. “I don’t know though,” he continued. “Maybe there’s something out there. God, or the universe, or whatever. A divine sort of energy that gives people a sense of meaning.”

“You think it’s all the same?” you asked, noticing some of his hair had fallen into his face. Your fingers itched to push it back, so you did, tucking it behind his ear. He caught your palm in his, bringing your clasped hands to rest on your knee. He flipped your hand over palm-side up and started tracing patterns over your wrist.

“Maybe,” he said. “Maybe it’s the accumulation of all our souls once we die—a divine collective. Maybe all our religions are just each culture’s best attempt at explaining where it comes from.”

His fingers stilled in your palm and you closed yours around them, lacing them together with his.

“I think,” you began, glancing back up at him and trying not to be consumed by the way the light danced across his face, “that maybe we’re not meant to figure it out.”

He smiled a half-smile, the corner of his mouth lifting up and perhaps you’d appreciated his mouth before, but never in this much detail.

“You might be on to something,” he said. He dropped his gaze to where your hands remained interlocked, running his thumb along your knuckle. “Can I ask you a question?”

You sat up a little more. “Sure.”

He hesitated before speaking, sucking in a breath and holding it for a moment before exhaling and turning back to you.

“What was it like kissing Folio?”

Your gaze dropped back to the bottle of wine in your hand. That was not a question you’d expected him to ask. You’d locked the memory of the kiss in a compartment in your brain titled Things You Won’t Bring Up to Noah, and as far as you were concerned, that’s where it should stay.

“I don’t know,” you said, bringing the bottle up to your mouth and taking a large swig to kill some time. “Do you really want me to answer that?”

Noah shrugged, relaxing his grip on your hand and you slid your fingers out of his grasp, using it for balance so you could sit up a little straighter and collect your thoughts.

“I don’t remember much, to be honest,” you said. “I was pretty drunk. And in my defense, I didn’t know you were there.”

“Hey,” he said softly, “No judgment here. I was just surprised, is all. Call it morbid curiosity.”

The question felt like a trap, like anything you could say would be the wrong thing, but Noah had asked, so you decided to be honest. You took another large gulp of wine for good measure before you answered, after which, Noah took the bottle and downed the last of it.

“So,” you began, feeling your cheeks flush under his stare, “it was fine, I guess. He tasted like stale beer and cigarettes, which wasn’t great, but he’s a good kisser.”

“How?” Noah asked.

“I don’t know,” you said, sinking back into the cushions. “He’s just… enthusiastic? I guess. He’s not too sloppy or anything.”

“So, you liked kissing him?” Noah prodded.

“Noah,” you whined, rolling your eyes at his questions. “Do we really have to talk about this?”

“Please?” he asked. “I just wanna know.”

You took a deep breath, pursed your lips to slow the exhale, and then rested your forehead against his shoulder so you didn’t have to look at him as you said the next part.

“Yeah, I liked kissing him,” you admitted. “It was better than kissing Isaac, at least.” You rolled your head back again so you could see his reaction. “But keep in mind that I don’t have a ton to compare it with. He could be a trash kisser for all I know, and I only liked it because it was my first time making out with someone and that was exciting.”

“I think you’d know if he was a trash kisser,” Noah said.

You rolled your eyes again. “Still, we were drunk. It was just for fun. It’s not like I’m in love with him or anything.”

“No?” Noah asked, fingers digging into the back of your knee.

You held eye contact, and suddenly you noticed the vulnerability there, just behind his eyes, and in the slight pout of his lower lip.

“No,” you said, softening. “Not even a little bit.”

Noah swallowed, pulling his lower lip into his mouth to wet it. Suddenly, you could feel your heartbeat in your throat. Your palms grew sweaty and you couldn’t seem to draw in a steady breath.

“Well,” he said, exhaling a half-laugh. He broke eye contact and let his eyes drop to your legs. “You sure? He’s a real catch. I could put in a good word for you if you want.”

“Noah!” you whined, and you were about to tell him to stop being a jerk, when he wrapped his hand around the back of your neck and pulled you into him.

The first kiss was slow, meant to give both of you time to process the fact you were finally kissing. Then he went in for a second, this one deeper. He licked at the seam between your lips, and you parted them, allowing him to dip his tongue into your mouth. You released a shaky breath, hands trembling slightly, and not from the cold, until they found purchase around the neck of his hoodie.

For a while, you stayed like that, exploring the textures and tastes of each other, memorizing the shape of his lips and movement of his tongue as it slid over yours. Noah tasted of the wine you’d shared, layered over a heady mixture of herbs and spices and something else entirely his own.

His hand wandered up your leg, fisting itself in your sweatpants and he pulled you closer until you were straddling his lap, desperate to eliminate as much distance between your bodies as possible.

He dragged his teeth along your bottom lip, pulling it into his mouth before letting it spring back into place and when he was satisfied with how swollen it had become, he pulled you closer by the neck so he could suck a bruise into the skin behind your jaw.

You arched into his touch, digging your nails into his shoulder as he took your earlobe in his mouth and tugged at it, sending all the hairs on the back of your neck standing at attention.

Deep in your core, something stirred. A deep need made itself known to you, hot as liquid magma, winding itself around you like a coil—a sensation you’d always associated with the forbidden. The coil would wind tighter and tighter, but it was never allowed to snap.

Senses on overload, you rocked against him, exploring what would happen if you allowed yourself to give in. Noah’s hands clutched at your hips, bracing you against him.

Needing more of him, you took his face in your hands and brought your mouths together in another kiss. Gone were the slow, rhythmic kisses you’d shared before. Now it was a tangle of teeth and lips and tongues and you stopped being able to tell where you ended and Noah began.

You rocked into him again, this time feeling a distinct presence that hadn’t been there before. Noah groaned into your mouth and you swallowed the sound. He rolled his hips into yours, and you felt yourself losing control.

“Are we moving too fast?” you whispered, finally breaking the kiss. Noah wrapped his hand around the back of your neck, bringing your lips back together.

“Mmph,” he said into the kiss. “I don’t know.” He spoke in short bursts between kisses, only half-focused on the conversation. “What do you think?”

“We should probably,” you said, pausing to suck on his lower lip, “slow down.”

“Yeah,” he breathed, fingers dragging across your neck. “Let’s slow down.”

It was a nice thought. The intentions were there, but you both fumbled the execution as soon as Noah sucked a deep red mark into a particularly sensitive area of your neck and your body responded by grinding down onto Noah’s lap.

“Fuck, baby,” he whispered, releasing your skin from his teeth, “baby, I’m trying to be good here, but you make it hard when you do that.”

Not even registering the words, only the way your body responded when he called you baby, you bit into his lip, sucking on it hard as your hips gyrated on his.

“Hold on,” he said through the kiss, placing his palms on your shoulders to still you. “Hold on.”

It took you a second to register that you were no longer kissing, and when you did, you let out an involuntary whine.

“What’s wrong?” you asked, trying to catch your breath.

“We’re moving too fast,” he said. Your eyes scanned his face, noticing how red and bitten his lips had become.

“Oh,” you said. You didn’t want to slow down, though. Everything you’ve learned up until that point taught you that youshould want to slow down, but slowing down was the exact opposite of what you wanted.

He tilted his head, sliding his hands down your body to rest on your waist. “I don’t want to take advantage of you while you’re drunk.”

“I’m not drunk though,” you said.

He tucked his lips into his teeth, looking at you with amusement. “Even so, I think we should take it slow.”

You pouted, letting your fingers trail down his chest. “It’s just,” you began, trying to find the right words to articulate your thoughts, but the cloud of lust in your head had your brain fighting to stay afloat. “Do you feel like this is too fast?”

Noah swallowed, adam’s apple bobbing up and down, slightly distorting the shape of his tattoo. “For me? No.” His fingertips dug into the flesh of your ass as if to demonstrate his point. “But my virginity isn’t on the line here.”

He had a point, but was your virginity something you even wanted to protect? Lately, it had started to feel much more like a cage than anything of value.

Rather than answer him, you rolled your hips against his one more time, and he sucked in a breath through his teeth, wrapping his arms around you to hold you in place. You could feel him throbbing under you, a few layers of cotton the only things separating you from the freedom you craved.

And that’s exactly what it was to you, you realized. Taking this next step meant setting yourself free from the guilt and shame you’d always associated with your sexuality. It would mean reclaiming your body as your own. And who better to experience that with than the person who encouraged you to let go of that shame in the first place.

You leaned in to flick your tongue against his upper lip. He caught it in his mouth, nipping at it with his teeth.

You smiled into the kiss, grabbing the hand he kept around your waist and moving it under your shirt until he cupped your breast.

“Succubus,” he whispered into your open mouth.

“Sinner,” you countered.

Something happened in that moment—a transmutation of your soul. In the past, you’d always looked up to the men in your life, idolizing them or striving to be worthy of their time and attention, but here, warmed by the light of the fire and the heat of Noah’s body under you, the tide had shifted.

“Say it again,” he said, pulling you further into him.

You were no longer an unworthy peasant, begging to be noticed—but a goddess. Someone worthy of being celebrated and admired. It was divine and sacred and potentially sinful, but after spending so much time worshiping, perhaps you could allow yourself to be worshiped for once.

“Sinner,” you whispered, draping your arms over Noah’s shoulders. Your mouth hovered just over his, lips parted and wet, begging to be kissed.

For a moment, neither of you moved. It was just you and Noah, sharing the same breath, caught in a game of chicken, each daring the other to move first.

In the end, it was Noah who ran out of patience. He crashed his lips into yours, and you surrendered your body easily to him. When the friction of your hips on his was no longer enough, he lifted you up, flipping you until your back hit the couch, legs wrapped around him while he ground his body into yours.

He was slow to undress you, starting only with the removal of your sweater, and with your skin finally exposed to him, he wasted no time in exploring every inch, sucking a nipple into his mouth and flicking his tongue across until it pebbled between his teeth. He then moved on to the other, repeating the act until he was satisfied, and then began kissing his way down your stomach and back up, trying to discover every sensitive spot he could find.

You flushed under him, heat creeping up your chest and neck despite the chill in the room. When Noah was done painting your collarbones with hickeys and teeth marks, he moved lower.

“Wait!” you said, and he stilled, worried that he’d crossed a line, until you grabbed the hem of his hoodie and pulled it over him, needing to feel his skin on yours.

He dropped back down to kiss you, and for the first time you could enjoy touching him without any barrier. You sighed into the kiss, running your hands all along his back and shoulders, logging every rope of muscle and ripple of skin and trying hard not to put too much pressure on the freshly tattooed parts, but having a hard time controlling where your hands wandered.

In the time it took for you to register what was happening, Noah had already slid your sweatpants down over your ass and you separated so you could kick them the rest of the way off.

He went slow, at first only caressing the apex of your thighs with delicate fingers so you could get used to being touched in such a sensitive area. It wasn’t long before you were begging for more, however, wrapping your hands around his wrist and pulling him into you.

Apparently, that was the wrong move, because Noah flipped his hand, easily catching both your wrists and slamming them above your head. He switched his hands so he could hold yours with his non-dominant one while the other cupped your sex.

“I have waited a long time for this,” he hissed, eyes boring into yours. “Do not rush me.” It was both a command and a threat.

You bucked your hips into his hand, needing more friction and he removed it, slapping your inner thigh instead.

“Use your words.”

“Please,” you rasped out, flushing a deep scarlet at just how pathetic and needy you sounded.

“What do you want?” he asked again, letting his hand roam down once again to stroke your clit.

You swallowed, feeling uncomfortable being so lewd, but in an effort to rip the band-aid off, you chose to be direct.

“I want your fingers inside me.”

He smiled, slipping one long digit past your entrance. It slid in easily, finding no resistance as by that point, you were dripping.

You weren’t a complete stranger to the sensation of having something inside of you—you’d masturbated before, so you knew how your own fingers felt, but you weren’t prepared for the feeling of his.

They were long, and thick, and moved with a dexterity you had never been able to achieve. The second they entered, a strangled moan escaped from deep within you—one you think may have been begging to escape for years.

Within minutes, he’d worked you into a frenzy. You were no longer the graceful goddess from earlier, but a gasping, writhing mess of a person, falling apart around his fingers.

“Do you want to come?” he asked.

You nodded, fighting to stay in control of your breath. “Please,” you whispered.

“Okay,” he said, speeding up his ministrations. “Be a good girl and come for me.”

Whether it was the dirty talk or the sheer skill of his hands, your entire body seized up and then exploded, sending a rush of fluids to your center, resulting in a loud squelching noise that carried over the sounds of your moans.

Waves upon waves of sensation rippled through your body, muscles twitching from overstimulation and rendering you boneless.

Noah extracted his fingers, bringing them up to his mouth and sucking them clean, then smiled down at your lifeless form as he stroked your hair. “Good,” he murmured. “Good.”

He hoisted himself off you, sliding off the couch to kneel on the floor next to you, and bent down to kiss you lazily.

Not being satisfied with so little contact, but still not having control over your legs, you slid off the couch and onto the floor with him, the plush area rug providing a decent barrier between your naked body and the cold concrete floor beneath you.

You straddled his hips once more, kissing him slowly, this time with gratitude. His hands roamed down your back and caressed your thighs and you could feel him, painfully hard underneath you.

You were still sensitive, but not too sensitive to move against him and he sighed into the kiss.

“What do you need?” you asked. Though your body was drained, wrapped in a post-orgasmic glow, you still had an unyielding desire to give as much as you’d received. You wanted him to feel good and though you might not be experienced enough to know exactly what to do, you at least wanted to try.

“I just need to feel you,” he said.

You knew what he meant by that, so you slid off his lap and tugged on the drawstring of his pants until they were loose enough to inch down his thighs.

Once they were gone, you were free to take in the sight of him. You’d never seen a naked man in person, so you weren’t sure what to expect, but you were caught off-guard at how big he was. Tentatively, you wrapped a hand around him, noting how soft and smooth the skin was underneath your fingers.

“Did you really have it pierced before?” you asked.

Noah laughed, and in your hand, a pulse surged through him.

“I did,” he said, taking himself in his hands and tilting it up to show you. “The scar is still visible,” he said pointing to the underside. You squinted, trying to make it out, but couldn’t see much in the light of the fire. You ran a finger along the underside and could feel where the texture changed and he hissed out a breath, grabbing your hand. He leaned over and spit into your palm, then wrapped it around his shaft, squeezing to show you what level of pressure to apply.

He guided your hand up and down. “Please?” he said softly, and you nodded, taking over the motion and watching in awe as he let his head fall back, exposing his neck to you and sending a new wave of desire surging through you at the sight. You allowed your mouth to roam over his neck, trailing your tongue over the pulse point and taking in the expansion of his throat as inhaled.

His breathing sped up, and it wasn’t long before he pulled you into another bruising kiss. He clutched at your hips, digging his fingers in and it was hard to keep hold of him in that position, so you let go and settled for grinding yourself against him, which he didn’t seem to mind.

He set the rhythm, using his hands to rock your hips back and forth over himself. You found yourself growing wetter by the second.

A flood of emotions hit you all at once—pride, fear, anticipation, but strongest was desire. You wanted this. You wanted to be in control of your own body. You wanted to decide for yourself what to do with it, and you knew more than anything that you wanted this with Noah.

Unbeknownst to you, Noah had been carrying condoms his pocket for weeks, just in case this moment arrived, so it was no trouble for him to fetch one, tear the wrapper with his teeth and roll it onto himself.

He laid you down on the plush rug and spread your thighs, positioning himself in between them.

“Are you sure?” he asked, holding your gaze. You’d never seen him look so serious before.

“Yes,” you said, staring back and trying to communicate nonverbally just how very sure you were.

“Okay,” he said, breaking eye contact to kiss you one last time. He brought his fingers to you again, sliding them through your folds and scissoring them inside of you to make sure you were ready. “It might be uncomfortable at first.”

You nodded, slipping his hair over his shoulder so you could better see his face. “Just go slow.”

He did, pushing into you centimeter by centimeter until just the head slipped past your opening. He paused, forehead resting against yours while you adjusted to the stretch. It was big, and he was right that it was a little uncomfortable at first, but it was also better than you could have ever imagined.

“Okay?” he asked, and you nodded, pulling him into a kiss as he slid farther into you.

An overwhelming sensation of fullness—that’s the best you could describe it. He was warm and solid and stretched you in such a way that you knew you’d be replaying this moment in your head for the rest of your life.

He backed out just an inch and pushed in again, and you wondered how and why anyone could possibly consider an act that felt so completely right to be sinful in nature. You threw your head back, exposing your neck and he ran his mouth along the column of your throat, tasting the skin while you soaked in the feeling of being so intimately connected to him.

You pushed yourself off the floor, gesturing for him to lay back against the couch so you could straddle him. You felt safer if you were in control of the motion in case it proved to be too much.

Gently, you rocked against him, feeling the pressure of him inside you stretching you to your limits. He was almost too big in length. You couldn’t sit fully on him without him pressing uncomfortably against your organs, so you hovered just over the base of him, moving your hips back and forth.

You found it easier to brace your hands on his thighs behind hind you and lean back, and when you did, he brought his thumb to your clit so he could trace small circles around it.

Your movements were slow and shallow at first, but with time, you found yourself adjusting better to his size and capable of taking more. You began to bounce, throwing your head back as your hips met his over and over in messy repetitions. Sounds escaped from Noah, first quiet gasps and whimpers, but growing lower and gruffer the more you moved.

His nails scraped along your back, digging into the flesh and pulling you into him, and he held out as long as he could, but eventually needed to be back in control, so he flipped you around so you were once again on your back and hooked his arms under your legs to prop you up.

“Okay if I go harder?” he asked, and you sputtered out something that sounded enough like “yes” to satisfy him.

He sped up, no longer holding himself back and you only now understood the sheer force his muscles could exert because for a second you lost the ability to comprehend what was happening.

Sounds you didn’t know you could make escaped without your permission. Noah threw your legs over his shoulder so he could brace himself on either side of your head, folding you in half as he drove himself into you. It was all you could do to keep your eyes locked on his, watching the intensity of his gaze as it burned into you—pupils blown, brow furrowed, jaw tensing.

“Fuck,” he spat, pulling out of you and flipping you over to all fours before reinserting himself. Wrapping his arm around your middle, he pulled you up so your back was flush against his chest. He held you against him by your throat, hand easily wrapping around the circumference and putting only enough pressure on it to keep you where he wanted.

“This okay?” he whispered against your neck and you nodded, body existing on an entirely different plane, just trying to take in everything happening at once.

He bit your shoulder, sucking another angry red mark into it before releasing you so you could fall forward and rest your face against the soft fibers of the rug—something to ground you while he continued his barrage inside of you.

He dug his fingers into your hips and used them for leverage as he pounded a steady tattoo into your pussy and you felt the same welling up of energy you’d felt when he had his fingers in you.

“Shit, shit, shit,” he hissed in time with his thrusts. One arm reached around you to feel around for your clit, fingers slipping over the sensitive bundle of nerves as he tried to lock them into place. His thrusts grew sloppy and unfocused, losing control of the rhythm he’d been holding before.

“Fuck,” he whispered. “Fuck, I’m gonna c—,” he began, but never finished his sentence because the rest came out choked, morphing into a guttural groan. He throbbed inside of you, fingers releasing your clit so he could brace them on your hip as he chased his orgasm to its end.

As soon as he caught his bearings, he replaced his fingers on your clit, drawing steady tight circles while he continued the best he could to thrust inside of you despite the fact he was well beyond fucked out by that point.

Already on the brink, you tumbled over the edge easily, cascading waves of pleasure coursing through your body as you rode out your high against his hand.

You collapsed on the floor, Noah on top of and inside of you, muscles twitching while you fought to catch your breath.

“Holy shit,” Noah whispered between deep exhales. “Holy shit.” He reached out to tuck your hair behind your ears. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you breathed, nodding against the rug. “Yeah, I’m good. You?”

“Yeah,” he sighed out, wrapping his arm around your middle and rolling you on your side. He peppered kisses over your shoulder and up the back of your neck. “Water?”

“Please,” you breathed. As you returned to your body, you noticed just how much hydration you’d lost in sweat and other fluids. Your mouth was dry, throat parched and aching against the chill of the air as you sucked in breaths.

Slowly, Noah removed his softening cock from you. He slipped off the condom, tying a knot in the end and throwing it in the trash can under his desk. Then he fetched a bottle of water from the same mini fridge that had produced the wine, unscrewed the cap, and handed it to you.

You took it with trembling hands, lifting your head to sip at it, but struggled to force yourself upright.

“Here,” he said, taking your arm and pulling you to a sitting position so your back could rest against the couch.

He dragged a blanket from the sofa, throwing it around your shoulders and turned his focus to your legs, caressing your calves while you came down from your high.

Noah slumped against the couch, resting his forehead on the arm while he drew slow patterns into your legs. After a few more sips of water, your thoughts became less cloudy, awareness returning to the room. You over at Noah, finding him just as exhausted as you felt.

He turned his head, watching you watching him and his fingers stilled on your leg.

“Hi,” he said, breaking out into a smile.

“Hi.” You breathed out a laugh, grabbing him by the arm and pulling him to you. He put up no fight, sidling up to you and wrapping an arm around your waist. He took the bottle of water from your hands, drinking deeply before handing it back to you and encouraging you to drink more.

“How are you?” he asked, and all you could do to answer was giggle, still high off endorphins.

He chuckled softly, lacing his fingers with yours and pulling you in so he could kiss you lazily. After a few minutes, he pulled away, collecting a few blankets and cushions from the couch and fashioning a warm nest on the floor.

“We should get some sleep,” he suggested, and you agreed, finally (albeit reluctantly) sliding back into your clothes and cuddling up next to him on the floor. He wrapped an arm around you, pulling you back into him and you rested your head on his chest.

You were both aware you had a lot to discuss in the morning, the biggest question being what this meant for you, but for the time being, you were content to remain in a post-coital haze, listening to his heartbeat, comforted by how solid and sturdy he was underneath you.

He kissed the top of your head as he wished you goodnight, and the last thought you had before you drifted off to sleep in his arms was that if that was a sin, you could understand why Jesus would feel compelled to die just so you could enjoy it.

___________________________ A/N: IT'S MY BIRTHDAY! Happy birthday to me! If you feel inclined to support my writing, buy me a coffee. (I also have Venmo if you want to buy me a birthday drink. Dm me)

__________

Taglist:

Please let me know if I missed anyone or if I tagged someone who no longer wants to be tagged.

@noahsebastions

@sundamariis

@cyber-tiny

@xxkittenkissesxx

@treacheryinblue

@flowerynerds

@1toreyouapart

@poisongirl616

@motflysblog

@starvingarsyn

@szebra

@sarahrosw36q

@hyukkie16

@messi-jessi603

@fluumiii

@trvshdxddy

@mentallyillbartender

@gothic-pumpkin

@alwaysfightforwhoyouare

@runadaggerthroughmychest

@alytarg2009

@lilcrazy011

@bugseatmesoon

@anything-more-than-human

@xxrainstorm

@traffordonna

@velvetlilacsdaisies

@sunshinesunny

@rain-down-on-me

@friedchildblaze

@emilygalindo

@rhiannonringss

@sister-sebastian

@badomensls

@collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard

@hoe-for-daddywise

@concretejungle420

@sleep-worship

@cncohshit

@adenobabe

@guaginyourarea

@escapingourexistence

@livingdeceasedgirl

@chxrryxox

@dem11

@starcrossedwasteland

@alm0std3add

@karenfranco

#the devil's advocate #noah sebastian x reader #bad omens fanfiction #noah sebastian fic #noah sebastian smut #noah sebastian #bad omens #bad omens fic #fanfiction

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therandompagesblog · 1 day ago

Text

SKZ Pack Chapter 4

Trigger Warnings: smut, swearing, squirting, orgasm, cunnilingus, knotting, vulnerability, crying.

The following morning Y/N woke up to Seungmin bursting into her room with flowers and some pastries to apologise, especially after the earful from Jeongin. Seungmin knew he went too far which was why he woke up early to surprise her, so here he was, sat on her bed, legs in the air with a pouty look. "I don't get it," Y/N stated as she looked at Seungmin, his hair falling in front of his eyes as he watched her "Get what?" Seungmin asked, his head falling onto her legs. "Why are you so mean to Minho?" Y/N asked causing Seungmin to roll in defiance. Everyone knew the two bantered but sometimes their insults were harsh as if there was an underlying meaning. "I'm not. He's mean to me. It's mutual." Seungmin whined, he didn't want to talk about it. "Fine. But try to be less commentating on his sex life." Y/N chided as she squeezed his cheeks, making him roll his eyes. "He's twenty-six, how have you not-ugh." Y/N shoved her fingers in Seungmins mouth causing him to gag. Seungmin shot up, growling, not appreciating the assault in his mouth. "That wasn't nice, little puppy," Seungmin growled, his fangs starting to appear. "That wasn't nice, little puppy." Y/N mimicked as she smacked him with the pillow before getting up. She was sick of his antics. "Right get out. I want to get changed," Y/N ordered as she opened her cupboards, picking out some causal clothes that Jisung and Changbin had bought her when she had first arrived. I really need more everyday clothes. "Uh, puppy. I've eaten your saccharine pussy so I think I might stay." Seungmin teased. "Oh. So in that case, GET THE FUCK OUT!" Y/N started off sweet before she yelled at him, throwing the wolf out.

Sometimes Y/N found Seungmin too playful and his comments a little bit harsh. She didn't mind his naughty remarks when they were flirting but his passive-aggressive behaviour was sometimes a bit much. She also didn't like it when he made digs towards Minho about his virtue. It was something private and there may be many reasons Minho chose to wait, just like Jisung. Even though it was a shock she was Minho's first kiss. It still warmed her heart that she got to be, but she wished she had made it more special for him. He was so stunned when it happened. It was cute. Y/N wanted to see him, but he was already heading out the door and it wasn't even nine in the morning. "Oh, there's breakfast in the kitchen," Minho said as he tied his shoelaces. "Where are you going?" Y/N asked curiously. "My old friends, Eunhyuk and Mark asked to see me today at the covenstead. I should be back, hopefully, no later than three so I can start dinner." Minho stated as he shrugged on his jacket before walking up to her. "When I get back, we'll talk. Alright? I promise it's nothing bad." "Alright, be safe. Don't do anything stupid, that's my job." Y/N teased, making him roll his eyes playfully. Minho placed her hair behind her ear affectionately, keeping his hand on her face a little while longer. Minho edged closer, his face reaching down to hers when Felix and Hyunjin came down to grab their coats. "Where are you going?" Y/N asked. Why is everyone leaving me today? "To the hair salon," Felix stated. "NO. Nuh-uh. Do not even think about it. I'll forbid it. I will make Chan alpha order it. To both of you." Y/N stated as she outstretched her hands, preventing them from leaving. Felix smirked at her and shoved her towards the door, his hands on either side of her head as he looked at her. "Would you not love me if I removed all my hair," Felix whispered, his breath fanning her face. "I like your hair, and Hyunjin's," Y/N said, reaching out to comb his hair with her fingers. "Right, I have to go," Minho stressed as he hated being late to any event or meeting. Y/N bid him goodbye and turned back to the two wolves who were putting their shoes on. Felix gave her a hug and a kiss on the cheek while Hyunjin patted her head before they left.

Y/N walked into the corridor looking around. Everyone was out today except Chan who was in his room. It made Y/N feel sad. The house was so quiet today and everyone was busy. She wanted to go with them but Chan wasn't comfortable with her going out until he was better. What do I do today? Shall I clean? I don't like cleaning. Shall I play on Changbin's X-Box? This is fucking boring. Aish, Chan is probably more bored considering he's cooped up in his room all day. Y/N rubbed her face and headed towards Chan who was again staring at the ceiling like a prisoner who was waiting to be let out. He was a deprived alpha who was feeling lonely, so the opening of his bedroom door sent him into excitement. "How's my big baby alpha." Y/N cooed as she crawled over to him. Kissing him gently. Chan craved her in many ways, more so than he had before. He wanted to know about her day, how she was, and what happened last night with Seungmin. He wanted to know how all his wolves were and if they were happy. He was so bored he was even considering ordering a TV in his room. "I hate this. I hate my nest." Chan growled, causing Y/N to kiss him, her tongue forcing its way into his mouth. "I can't do this. I can't." Chan growled, his alpha tone coming out. "Do what? Channie tell me what to do." Y/N's voice was soft, wanting to fix the problem. "Baby, I'm frustrated. I'm angry and I hate this. I hate that you are unclaimed." Chan growled, his ruby eyes glaring at the bed sheet that he now tore in frustration. Sexual frustration.

Every bone in Chan's body drove him mad, the need to claim her. The need to take her. To ruin her. He wanted to pin her to his bed and fuck her until she was tired. He wanted to savour every inch of her body until she shook in pleasure. "Take your clothes off, now," Chan growled as he looked at her, his feral instincts starting to take over. "Uh no," Y/N stated. "What do you mean no? Please." The please came out as a whimper. He felt conflicted, confused. Why did she say no to him? Didn't she want him? "Channie, you're wounded. I'm not doing more damage. We have to wait eight to twelve weeks." Y/N cooed. "Fuck that," Chan growled as he pulled the sheet off of him as he tried to rip his shorts off. "I want your sweet little pussy to claim me, NOW Y/N" Y/N's mouth opened in shock at his demeanour. She hadn't expected him to decide today. "Please, baby. Now. Right now. I need you to claim me. I need my little wolf." Chan whined as he ripped his shorts in anger before looking up at Y/N who stared at him in bewilderment. She was slightly scared, aroused but ready. She was ready for him. She always had been. "Chan. What about your wounds." Y/N whispered, but deep down she didn't care that much. She wanted her alpha. "I don't care." Chan's needy hand grabbed her shirt yanking her forward to kiss her, his wet cold tongue entered hers, demanding her to submit to her. Y/N's stomach knotted together as she felt her anticipation creeping up on her. Her slick started to form as it prepared to take her alpha. "Baby I want you to sit on my face as I fuck you with my tongue," Chan growled as he looked at her, demanding her. All Y/N could do was nod her head slowly. Her mind was all over the place with desire, love, need. "Hurry up then little wolf, before the wolves come back and hear your pretty moans." Chan taunted, causing Y/N to rush. Her jogging bottoms slid off and were dumped at the side of her bed. Her shirt was too thrown off before she climbed nervously over to him.

Her legs climbed over his shoulders while being aware of the wound on his left shoulder as she sunk down onto his mouth. "Ah." Y/N squealed as she felt his wet tongue fall straight into her pussy. Y/N gripped his hair to push him deeper into her. Y/N started to grind on him as she felt his nose suffocated against her clit. Her grinds were borderline abusive as she assaulted his face aggressively, wanting to force herself to cum quickly so she could sit on his cock "Chan. I'm gonna-" Chan's hand tapped her ass, pushing her even closer to try and edge her. He too was getting impatient. He needed her to coat his cock in her slick whilst he knotted her. The thought made Chan growl in desire, as her slick poured straight into his mouth, nearly choking him. He hadn't expected her to squirt His cock was burning at this point. He wanted to force her straight down onto him but he had to restrain himself and come back to his senses. This would be the first time for her to have sex in a long time and he didn't want to ruin that. He needed her to feel loved during sex and pleasure of course. Not like her last experience. "Are you ready baby?" Chan breathed out as he looked at her pink-stained cheeks. She was far too tired to continue but they both knew and felt the need to be mated. "Yeah. Yeah." Y/N breathed out, trying to calm herself as Chan brushed her hair back to look at her, silently asking if she was ready.

Y/N slowly looked down to see his red thick cock, his girth already covered in pre-cum. Y/N's wide eyes made Chan nervous. He thought her eyes held disappointment but her eyes held concern. He was far too thick to fit in her. "Uh. Chan? It's not going to fit. You're too thick." Chan wanted to laugh and make a remark but didn't, he instead kissed her nose reassuringly. "It will be alright. I promise baby, but we do need to put a condom on as I don't want to risk puppies yet when I have three already." Chan said as he tapped he pointed to his drawer where the condoms were. "You mean Jisung and Seungmin?" Y/N checked in case there was a hidden story about Chan accidentally getting an omega pregnant. "And Changbin. He hasn't grown up yet." Chan joked as he watched Y/N smile. Y/N walked back over to him and carefully ripped the silver packaging off to pull out the latex condom. Chan laughed at her disgusted face as she watched her put the condom on him. "Whenever you're ready baby. I've got you." Chan whispered as he watched her grab his cock pulling it to her entrance. Chan held his breath as he watched his head slowly disappear into her. Y/N hissed and gripped his right shoulder with a glare as felt the burning sensation. "Fuck! I can't. You shouldn't be this big!" Y/N growled as she gripped his jaw, causing Chan to bite the inside of his cheek in worry. He was almost cursing his ancestors for making him so thick. "Baby, if you relax it will fit. It's because you're nervous that your body is making you clench-" "Oh I'm sorry, let me just relax on a fucking trunk. This is demonic. It's not even normal." Y/N growled at the alpha as she started to stress. Chan tried to relieve waves of calmness towards her but he was struggling. He found it too funny. "Don't laugh at me alpha. You should ask the ancestors to shrink this." Y/N complained, causing Chan to glare playfully. Y/N glared at the headboard as she tried to focus on easing the pain but the pressure of his cock, while Chan just threw his head back as he bit his bottom lip. "Fuck!" Y/N growled as she finally sank onto him, causing Chan to groan at the sight.

There she was. Sat on his cock. His omega. The woman he waited for all this time was now buried in her wet pussy. "Baby, baby, baby" Chan chanted, as he rubbed her back, trying to take the pain away. Y/N rested her head on his shoulder as she rocked back and forth, trying to ease the burning pain. Y/N flicked her hips trying to find a rhythm whilst Chan kissed up and down her neck to her shoulder, whispering comforting words. Y/N lifted her head up, baring her throat slightly as she started to bounce causing Chan to grip her waist as he licked her throat before sucking on it, leaving pretty marks down her throat. Chan couldn't believe the sight in front of him as he watched his beautiful little wolf sink down onto him in such a majestic way. Chan lifted his right hand to fondle her breasts as his hand flicked her clit. He could feel himself twitching inside of her as he prepared to release. "Baby, I need to knot," Chan warned, his voice hoarse. "Baby mark me. Please. Need my beautiful sexy little wolf's mark." "I haven't marked anyone before." Y/N breathed out as she looked at him. "Will you mark me? Please, baby. Alpha needs it. Alpha wants. Alpha wants to be owned by you." Chan begged. Y/N saw the vulnerability flash through Chan's eyes. She saw for a brief second his fear of rejection and insecurity. "Yeah. I'll mark you. Only when alpha knots. Mmm, you going to knot for me?" Y/N moaned as she pulled his hair so his neck was presented in front of her. "Yes. Yes. Alpha will knot for you. Going to knot baby." Chan panted as she picked up speed. "Need your mouth on my mark first and then you can knot." Chan nodded at her words and quickly sucked on her mark, binding them properly together. Chan's nails dug into her skin as he tried not to knot there and then at their souls binding together, but he needed to wait. He needed to be good if she was going to mark him. He wasn't going to ruin it, he needed to wait patiently. Y/N thrust his head back and sunk her fangs straight into his throat, piercing the flesh. Chan's legs shook as he knotted harshly, deep into her wet cavern.

Y/N came down from her high and pulled her fangs out with a pop. Y/N looked at her mark on the middle of his throat. A sense of pride filled her as she looked at it. Y/N licked her mark, placing a soft kiss before retracting her head to see tears had fallen from Chan's face as he looked at the ceiling. "Baby?" Y/N whispered but he shook his head and Y/N knew to give him a minute. Y/N had a sense of what he was feeling and hugged him silently. Chan couldn't help the overwhelming feeling that bubbled up as he felt her teeth sink into him. It was pure fucking ecstasy. Everything he struggled with all those years was finally gone. The abuse of his uncle and the weird obsession of having an omega had ceased. Chan finally felt whole. He felt at home. He felt loved. Chan quickly shook his head and wiped his tears as he looked down at his beautiful wolf who held him. "Y/N." Chan called out, "I love you so fucking much." "I know Christopher. I know. I love you so so much." Chan laughed as he brought their lips together when he heard his phone ring. "It's Min." Chan grumbled as he reached for his phone hitting the loudspeaker button. "Chan. I tried to call the home phone several times to tell Y/N that I'd be back late because I'm stuck in traffic. I promised her I would be home for three but I'm being held up. I don't want her to think I've forgotten." Minho fretted. "Ah. Um Y/N was preoccupied." Chan breathed out. "Well I'm glad and I'm really happy for you Hyung, but that was stupid. I bet your stitches have come out." Minho chided, making the two look down to see Chan's entire left leg covered in blood. Y/N gasped and shot off the alpha, running into the bathroom to get a cloth. "Idiot. I'm gonna call Jaehee." Minho stated as he hung up. "You are an idiot. Christopher." Y/N shouted as she wiped his thigh, careful not to touch his wound. "I think you will find it is your fault little wolf. You fucked me." Chan stated, causing the omega to huff. It was her fault, but it was far too late now.

Taglist for the iconic readers

@galaxy4489 @reallychaoticwoo @mbioooo0000 @jisungs-iced-americano @maybeimmia @hwangrfrnd@wolfo2027 @kayleefriedchicken @leamueller920 @borahae-reads @jennibahng @cookiesandcreammy @leezanetheofficial @jutdwae-flower @danceonmyheyday @jc003 @hpnsfwaddict @linocz @itzreetal987 @skzdreamer13 @liv1sworld @upsidedownchaire @jutdwae-flower @danceonmyheyday @jc003 @hpnsfwaddict @skzdreamer13 @ihttinniee @kingdomofpentagon @pixie0627 @tsunderelino @notevenheretbh1 @catlove83 @h0rnyp0t @hash2013 @hyunmikim @emi-han @iknow-uknow-leeknow @jigglypuff3000 @aalexyuuuhm @missseoulite @ihrtlix @estella-novella @xxeiraxx

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venusindelusion · 2 days ago

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Giving In (to the Love): Once More to See You

4th chapter

SUMMARY: Being in her presence had an unclear effect on you, but how far would you allow yourself to go with it? WC: 3K PAIRING: Vi x Fem!Reader WARNINGS: alcohol, underage driving, miscommunication A/N: let's pretend we didn't watch the last episode of arcane girls Previous chapter

Waking up to another headache from drinking had you thinking you really needed to refuse having your glass refilled. You sit on the bed and take in your surroundings, it was strange to wake up at someone else's bedroom, someone you barely knew.

As you were getting up, you could hear laughter coming from the living room. Your phone was still on the night stand so you grabbed it and opened the door.

"So you just punched him?” a familiar voice asked.

"Yeah, had to—" Violet turned her head around and saw you standing by the door frame, she was about to grab a cup from the cupboard, "Morning, sunshine."

"Good morning," you answer while she's filling the cup with coffee, then hands it to you, "Uh..."

"Cait made it, don't worry," she says when she sees your face twisted in disgust, the clear memory of a coffee made by Violet still haunting you.

"Cait?" you ask in confusion then walk to the table and see your best friend sitting with her own cup of coffee between her hands. Caitlyn greets you and smiles, "Hey, what are you doing here?"

"I had to bring some stuff and Vi told me you were here, so I stayed," she replies and takes a sip at her coffee. You nodded in response and drank your own coffee, listening to them chatting about what happened last night with that costumer Violet had to kick out.

Your headache wasn't as painful anymore but you could feel your body asking for water. Just when you were about to ask Vi for it, she hands you a bottle and winks at you. Feeling your cheeks already warm, you thank her and drink, your throat getting finally hydrated and more fresh. Caitlyn was watching you curiously, seeing your face heated up after that small interaction with Violet but she said nothing about it. Instead, she finished her coffee and got up from her seat, saying she had to go back to work or else Marcus would literally kill her.

"Already?" Violet asked her, getting up herself and grabbing her keys while Caitlyn walked to the door.

"Yes, but I'll text you the rest of the details later." Caitlyn says before waving you goodbye and walking out of the apartment with Violet behind her.

You sit there in silence, staring at the mug; it had little drawings on it, very colorful just like the ones hanged on the wall downstairs, and one single letter "V" on the side. Was this Violet's mug? Maybe her sister made it for her, it certainly was a few years old, you could tell the colors were a bit washed out.

While you were inspecting that, something on the table catches your attention; an envelope directed to Violet, sealed with a stamp you'd recognize anywhere. It was the Kiramman's stamp. Your stomach twists in a knot and you grab the envelope, refusing to believe Caitlyn would write a letter to Violet. It seemed impossible, you knew Caitlyn, she wouldn't do that kind of thing for a random person— so this meant they were really close, for her to even use her family stamp on it.

"Why do I even care?" you think to yourself, unable to figure out the reason behind this awkward feeling, but you couldn't stop looking at the envelope, a million questions going through your mind at the same time.

The door slides open and you rapidly leave the envelope where it was, your heart beating fast at the sight of Violet walking in. She catches your fast movement and looks at you confused but she shrugs it off and walks to be beside you, holding herself with one hand on the back of your chair. Being this close to each other was too much for your nervous system.

"So," she begins, "shall we get into it, cupcake?" Feeling blood rushing to your cheeks and your heart beating faster than before, you stare at her in disbelief, unable to formulate a single word, and her eyes widen. She laughs outloud and covers her face with one hand, you couldn't understand what was so funny for her while you were feeling like your heart was a little bird trying to get free from your ribcage. After a few minutes of hysterical laughter from her, she clarifies, "I meant studying."

Oh God.

That did nothing to help you calm down, you felt so stupid and embarrassed. What were you even thinking? Of course she meant studying, that's why you were here in the first place. That was the whole reason you got to meet her at all.

You let out an awkward chuckle and nod, then go grab your bag and take out the same things you used the day before for her tutoring. Taking your previous seat, you start your lesson.

The red light was on as Caitlyn waited, her hands on the steering wheel and her fingers softly hitting on it; her brain was working a thousand miles per hour, trying to figure out a strategy for the case she was currently assigned to. She could hear her mother in the back of her head, saying "You have to earn all of this."

Once the red light turned to green, she continued driving to the office. Looking for a place to park wasn't difficult, she had her own special spot, a big hand-written like sign with her name on it. She got out of the car and sighed, looking up at the building with her eyes furrowed; it was still on remodelation, some of the letters were missing and the new door gave an imponent feeling, it was beautifully hand-made, its frame had little details of gold and the thin windows on both sides allowed the insides to be seen. Of course, you couldn't miss the big 'CK' carved on the panels of the door.

Although her relationship with her mother was a bit rough on the edges, she had to give it to her— she had amazing taste. Remodelating was Cassandra's idea, she thought giving a new image would suit the firm, she wanted to tell they were not stuck in the past. They were moving forward. And that's something Caitlyn agreed on completely.

Caitlyn was greeted with a pile of papers laying on her desk and a little note saying "Quick" on its side. She was tired of this meaningless paperwork, but knowing that if she could finish it early then Marcus would let her dive fully into what really mattered: her new case.

It wasn't long ago she was assigned to it after tiredlessly trying to convince her boss; he had said she wasn't experienced enough so he would look for someone else to assist him, but if Caitlyn had a remarkable virtue— or flaw, it was her stubborness. In the end, he ended up agreeing to make use of her unexperienced assistance under the condition of overworking her with all that meaningless paperwork.

To no one's surprise, Cassandra wasn't fond of the idea of Caitlyn helping such a delicate case like this. She prefferred her to dedicate her education and time to more lucrative ones, or like she calls them, "educational"; cases where her daughter would have to defend wealthy tycoons who spent their lives taking advantage of their privileges to commit crimes or abuse their position.

"Hurry up, Kiramman." Marcus was standing by the door, watching Caitlyn carefully as she wrote down on her notebook. She nodded without taking her eyes off the papers, her hand working rapidly on those letters. "Take those to my office once you're done."

She heard his footsteps getting away and stopped for a minute, it felt like she had been working all day on this and it was barely half way done. Looking at the little clock on her desk, it was a bit past lunch time and her stomach was growling at her, pleading for something more than just the coffee she had for breakfast.

Putting her pen down, she got up from her seat and walked towards the cafeteria. One of the requests she had made to her mother when she offered her the job was to treat her like any other intern, no cafeteria privilege either, so she got in line like everyone else and waited for her turn to order.

Once her sandwich and, of course, coffee were ready, Caitlyn took a seat near the window. Her mind was too focused on her case of interest, she felt personally and emotionally involved— which under no circumstance should happen, but it did and she couldn't stop thinking about it. Being able to help such a dear friend of hers was worth all the effort and extra hours she had to do.

Violet broke into her life by coincidence. Actually, more like by a literal accident; Caitlyn almost got crashed by Vi's little sister who had decided she wanted to drive Vi's motorbike and so she did. While Caitlyn was parking her car in front of her best friend's building, she heard someone yelling at her and before she could react, the little blue haired teenager crashed her open door. After many half apologies and some insults from Jinx, Caitlyn was taken to The Last Drop to meet the real owner of the vehicle.

She was already familiar with the place but only from outside, never dared to cross the door given its reputation and the prejudice she carried in the back of her mind, always present. Violet actually apologized to her and reprimended her younger sister, called the inssurance and made sure to give Caitlyn everything she needed to make the claim and then offered her a drink.

That afternoon, after some disgusting coffee made by Violet, was life changing for her. They chatted and Caitlyn found out they took a few classes together, but they never met each other because of Vi regularly skipping. Her never ending curiosity served to make Violet tell her a bit about her life and the bar, she said that it has been closed for a few days due to a tragedy and her ownership was at stake since someone named Silco wanted to sue her for it.

It didn't seem fair that Violet should lose her father's legacy because of an old society that held no legal weight, so Caitlyn offered to help. She put the accident aside and decided this was the reason for her to be working in the firm, these were the kind of cases she wanted to work on; she wanted to help people as much as she could.

Those memories stood deeply in her heart even now as she was finishing her sandwich. She returned to the office more motivated than before and kept working, hoping Marcus wouldn't bother her until it was finished.

Violet waved goodbye to her tutor and closed the door behind her, walking upstairs and getting into her apartment again. It was late in the afternoon and she'd have to open the bar soon and prepare everything to receive the usual customers.

Not many people went drinking during the week days but the ones who did were always at The Last Drop, ready to spend the rest of the night sulking or causing trouble; Vi didn't mind that, she got used to dealing with drunk men and was happy to show them some moves and kick them out. They always came back and apologized once they were sober, then asked for their usual drinks again.

Even though she spent most of her day studying and taking notes, she felt refreshed and full of energy— it didn't feel tiring or draining, the way her tutor explained different concepts and stated the connection between them, how she would prepare actual drinkable coffee for both of them; Violet would make an exception and have some as well, then watch how the other girl's face twists when she realizes her coffee is too hot and burns her tongue a bit, looking back at Vi and laughing.

The little breaks they took in between allowed Violet to get to know her a bit better, to ask about her interests or listen to her anecdotes, her complains about some of the classes which were proving to be harder than expected; she paid more attention to that than the lesson itself. When she cried that night, it had moved Violet— she wasn't expecting that kind of reaction after joking about what Powder used to say, and although the girl was sobbing, she didn't take pity on neither of them, she didn't make any comment about how sorry she was or how strong Violet must have been to deal with any of it, she just cried and then laughed at herself for being too drunk.

She checked her phone and saw a text from Powder, saying "Ooooout tonight sis!" and sighed, then received a second one from Ekko telling her that he had invited her sister over to watch Scream's whole saga and eat burgers. Rolling her eyes at how dramatic her younger sister was and how much she enjoyed making her worry, she put her phone away and got into the shower.

Hot water dripping down her body was all Violet needed before work so after being all cleaned up, she got changed into her usual bartender attire, a black shirt and trousers, and headed downstairs. She turned the neon lights on and played some music, then opened the doors and stayed behind the counter, waiting for people to start coming in.

Her mind drifted for a bit, remembering she wouldn't have the next lesson until next week. That bumped her down a little, she was hoping it would become a regular thing, like part of her routine, since she already got used to having her tutor around— which was unsettling.

"She's just doing her job." She reminded herself while pouring whisky on a glass for her own delight. Violet knew she enjoyed her company but wasn't sure what her tutor thought of her; she seemed a bit awkward when they were together, avoiding her gaze or fidgeting. Perhaps she didn't like her that much since Violet did post that embarrassing picture of her after all.

Vi grabbed her phone and instantly deleted that post she had made the night of the party, not caring anymore about the exams or the tutoring lessons, all she wanted was to at least befriend that girl. She thought about asking Caitlyn, but what would she even ask about? Why did she care so much?

She decided to take matters into her own hands and stop acting like an anxious teenage girl, so she typed a simple question and clicked to send it then immediately put her phone down. God, what was wrong with her?

You were completely exhausted, combining tutoring and studying for your own classes was taking its toll on you. It was a relief Violet understood you would be busy for the rest of the week since you were far behind on some key topics for the upcoming tests.

"Keep reading this last book and take notes." You had told her earlier before leaving her apartment.

"I'll surprise you, cupcake." She had answered, making you blush with that stupid nickname.

Your exams should take priority, you knew that, but part of the reason you decided to take a break from her was because of the envelope— you felt completely out of place, Violet had some kind of effect on you which was unclear to you just yet, but you didn't want to get in between anything. If there was something going on between her and your best friend.

Taking the left overs from the fridge, you take a seat on the couch and turn on the TV. Your mind was far away and you couldn't pay attention to the romcom playing in front of you, these people were so lucky it made you envious.

On the little table beside the couch, your phone made its particular sound alerting someone had sent you a message. You unlocked it and scrolled through your notifications; most of them were from group chats, people taking the same classes as you discussing which topic was more likely to appear in the exam and helping each other with some questions. You keep scrolling until your best friend's name pops up, she had texted you last night when you were completely wasted at Violet's place, saying she still needed your help with her current case and asking when would you be available for that. Sighing heavier than needed, you answer that she was welcome to bring food this weekend and you'd be happy to assist.

Guilt was flooding your senses, it wasn't fair to Caitlyn that you were feeling like this— she hadn't done anything wrong. Who could blame a girl for having a life? Certainly not you. But you just wanted to know what was going on without coming off as nosy, which you were.

She replied straight away saying she'd bring your favourite food as a way of thanking you. Laughing at her exaggeration, you keep scrolling until one message makes your eyes widen. It was from Violet. Your heart pace quickened as you read her text, which said "wanna come see me boxing this weekend?"

Unable to difere a thought from another, you stare at the little letters on your screen uncapable of believing she would invite you anywhere. Did this mean you were getting closer? Maybe she just wanted to fill an empty space cheering for her.

"Sure, should I bring a cheering sign?" You asked jokingly, trying to act cool and less like a nervous mess.

"make it pink and bright." Violet replied almost instantly, making you laugh softly in the solitude of your apartment. You definitely didn't care about studying anymore, this was all you were looking forward to now.

"I'll be your number one fan then."

"you better." Smiling to yourself at her answer, you decide to head to bed and sleep everything off.

TAG LIST: @pokiiks, @wickedlovely121

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feelbokkie · 3 days ago

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L♡VE IN F♡CUS | Chapter 14

PAIRING: idol!Changbin x fem reader

WARNINGS: swearing, mention of food

GENRE: smau, crack, angst, fluff

P♡V: 1st/2nd person (depending on how you view it)

SUMMARY: Amateur concert photographer Y/n has recently been promoted to junior music journalist. Her first assignment? An exposé on the popular Kpop boy group, Stray Kids. Spending an entire tour doing in depth interviews with eight men seems simple enough, but one member isn't exactly open to the idea. Will Y/n be able to break down the walls around his heart, or will her big break turn into a big disaster?

TAGLIST: closed

W♡RD C♡UNT: 5,066

SCREENSH♡T C♡UNT: 2

A/N: Christmas in November??

PREVIOUS | MASTERLIST | NEXT

"Y/n! You're home! Come in, come in!" Wonseok's mom shouts from the hallway once she hears the front door open.

"Hi, mom," You greet warmly as you pull your bags in, Wonseok pushes the door shut to keep the cold air out.

You neatly put your shoes to the side and drop your bag down to greet her with a hug. Her hair is in a messy low bun held together by a gold-colored clip you bought her for her birthday this year.

"Goodness," She pulls away from you and cups your face, examining it from every angle. "Look at you! Have you not been eating well on your trip? Have they been working you too hard?"

You can't help but laugh as you gently place your hands on her wrist. "I ate well, I promise. I'll even show you pictures."

"I'll make you something to eat right now. Wonseok, go put Y/n's stuff in her room." Her hands drop from your face to your hands, ready to drag you off to the kitchen with her.

Wonseok’s mom has been like your surrogate mother ever since your first trip to South Korea. You were a university, studying abroad for your last year in the city that you’d hopefully move to once you graduated. You worked hard, during those first few years of university, to save money to even be able to afford the plane ticket alone. You took on as many jobs as your body would allow you, and you worked hard to maintain a high grade point average so you had no excuse not to go.

You met Wonseok during your first class. The journalism department was small, but still, the class was full nonetheless. You had gotten to class early so you could get a good seat and get some reading done. Wonseok, less studious compared to you, got to class later and took the only remaining spot that just happened to be next to you. He was quiet, either exhausted from the early class or general shyness from sitting next to a complete stranger. He was two years older than you, which you realized was the norm. Wonseok completed his military service right after high school rather than start university and pause halfway through like many men in your department did. He also didn’t want to wait until after he graduated because he wanted to start his career right away.

You found out later that he really didn’t have much interest in befriending you, not that you had any either. But your professor walked in and announced that everyone would be partnered with their current deskmate for the entire semester so you had no choice. After that, you two became quick friends. It didn’t hurt that you were in most of each other’s classes.

It wasn’t until your second semester when Chuseok rolled around and he realized that you had nowhere else to go. So he invited you to go home with him, despite your protests. His mother was more than happy, especially at the fact that her 24-year-old son was bringing a woman home for such a big family holiday. Even after explaining that ‘it wasn’t like that,’ she kept watching the two of you with a hopeful eye sharing anecdotes about how it also ‘wasn’t like that,’ with her and her first boyfriend but they ended up married with two sons. You were worried at first about meeting her. You’ve watched more than enough dramas to know the archetype of the overbearing, protective mother who would scrutinize and ridicule every woman in their son’s life. And you weren’t even dating him. So you were cautious at first when she welcomed you with open arms and a warm smile. It wasn’t until a few months later you realized that she was just like that.

Christmas in South Korea is celebrated more like Valentine's Day in respects to it being more of a couple's holiday than a family one. Which is why you were more than willing to stay in the country and not fly back home the first year that you were there. You wouldn’t have to fly home and deal with unnecessary family drama, not that you were welcomed after “abandoning your family,” as your mother had so kindly put it when you told her that you were studying abroad. And you wouldn’t have felt as lonely if you watched families celebrating around you. When Wonseok mentioned to his mother in passing that you were staying for Christmas and that you were just going to stay at the dorm, she insisted that you come over. Baited by the free food, you went expecting a small, simple Christmas holiday. Only, when you got there, she had insisted on celebrating in a “Western way” so that you would feel at home. It was the first Christmas in your entire 22 years of living where Christmas felt like how you were led to believe it would feel like in Christmas movies. And for the past 6 years, that’s what Christmas has been.

“Mom, let me help Wonnie. My stuff is too heavy.” You laugh as you pat her hand.

“Ah, that boy—It wouldn’t be too heavy for him if he kept up with his military training. He was in the Navy, you know.” She waves you off, gently tugging you away from the entrance.

“I know,” you laugh again. “I kind of miss when he was all buff. Sitting behind a desk most of the day has made him soft. He even gets winded climbing the stairs to get to my apartment.”

“You two do realize that I’m right here, right?” Wonseok rolls his eyes as he sets his own bags down.

“Just leave the stuff by the door, I’ll ask Wonjae to take it up when he gets back from the store.” She returns the eye roll before dragging you off to the kitchen.

You get a glimpse of the living room on your way to the kitchen. It looks like a Hallmark Christmas movie bomb went off. A 6-foot-tall tree stands in the corner of the room undecorated, a task she leaves for when you and Wonseok arrive so that you can do it together.

"Hurry, hurry, you don't want the food to get cold." She pulls you along faster. "Wonseok, quickly put your things away and come eat!"

You stifle a laugh as you hear a string of swears come from Wonseok's direction. His mom either doesn't hear him or is choosing to ignore it for your sake. You've heard about Wonseok's mom used to be when he and his older brother were younger, but that's almost a completely different from the woman you know now. "She's gone soft with her two youngest kids," as Wonseok and Wonjae like to remind you and Frankie.

She ushers you to sit at the small table in the corner of the kitchen. It's too small to be a regular use table to eat family meals at. There's only enough space to barely fit three people in it. It's mostly used for meal prep like cutting vegetables, marinating meat, and sifting through beans. Wonseok once told you that it was the table where he and Wonjae would sit and do homework while their mother cooked dinner. If they were done with their homework or if they didn't have anything to do, they'd sit there and help their mother by doing all of the prep work for her. The first few times you went over to visit, you'd sit there and help her too while you two got to know each other before she let you work alongside her directly.

"What did you make, mom?" You ask as you spread out the utensils she left on the center of the table.

She walks over to the table slowly, carefully holding a hot bowl in hers with only a thin cloth protecting her skin. “I made kimchi-jigae because the two of you have been out in the snow.”

“Wow,” You look at her with an open mouth smile and a twinkle in your eye. “How do you always manage to know what I want?”

“A mother just knows,” she says simply as she turns around to get a bowl of rice and side dishes for you.

“I smell Kimchi-jigae,” Wonseok announces as he makes his appearance in the room. He quickly tosses something in the trash and joins you at the table. “I’ve been craving this for ages!”

“See?” Wonseok’s mom gives you a simple wink as she gets Wonseok some food.

After a few more minutes, Wonseok’s mother comes back to the table with his food. She sets it down in front of him before scurrying off to the stove once more. The two of you wait silently for her to return to the table, both out of politeness and fear of burning your mouths.

She slowly walks back to the table, careful to not spill a drop of whatever is in the mug in her hand. Finally, she takes a seat in the vacant chair at the table.

“Oh look at both of you, so well-mannered waiting for me. You can go ahead and eat,” She cheers as she gestures at both of you.

You watch as Wonseok resists the urge to make a wisecrack remark and instead takes a careful sip of the stew from his spoon.

“Thank you for the meal.” You say quickly before taking your own sip.

Wonseok's mom nonchalantly sips from her mug and watches fondly as both of you eat your food. The heat from the soup and the spice from the kimchi work quickly to thaw out your body from being outside in the snow.

You've been back in Seoul for a few days, but it's barely now setting in that you're on vacation mode. Your flight landed a little earlier than planned and after some convincing, Wonseok drove you to the company building so you could pick up some of the packages and mail that Wonseok and Frankie weren't allowed to pick up for you. Mostly signed "thank you" albums from the groups you wrote album reviews for over the past couple of months.

Wonseok's mom takes another sip of her drink, which you can only assume is tea and lets out a satisfied sigh. “How’s my other daughter? Did she get home safely?”

“She did, she sent us a text when she landed. Knowing Frankie, she’s probably asleep right now. It’s almost 9pm over there and her trip was almost 17 hours long.” Wonseok relays and he searches through his phone. You’d check yours but Wonseok confiscated both your phone and your laptop the second he picked you up from your apartment.

It's all a part of his "make Y/n take a break" initiative. For the next couple of weeks, everyone is going to be allowed to work from home to give the staff members who want to travel for the holidays to do so. The only days that you actually have off are Christmas Eve, Christmas Day, and New Year’s Day. Wonseok, knowing you very well, made you hand over your phone and laptop and told you that you’d get them back on the 26th.

“She’ll be here for Seollal, right?” Another sip, another question.

“Um,” You watch as Wonseok goes to his calendar app. Different color bars fill in the dates. “She will be back. She’s only staying until her mom’s birthday.”

“Y/n? Are you going to be here for Seollal or are you going back on the road?” She shifts her attention back to you.

You blink for a moment, trying to remember your schedule for the first half of the year. Korean Lunar New Year changes its date every year. This year it was at the beginning of February. Next year it’s… “When is it?”

“January 29th—a Wednesday! This year it was on a Saturday.” Wonseok grumbles as he slides his phone back into his pocket.

“Oh, I’ll be back home then. There are two more shows in Hong Kong but they’re on the 18th and 19th so we’re not going to rush back. After that, I’m home until the second leg of the tour starts in March.” You nod quietly to yourself. There’s not much in your head at the moment other than Stray Kids’ tour schedule.

“Oh good!” She sets her cup down on the counter and claps her hands together. “That means the three of you can come here.”

“Mom, I love you but I’m not spending Seollal at home with my parents.” Wonseok whines.

“Ah, cover your mouth before you talk.” His mom nags as she gets a napkin and places it in his hand. “And you wouldn’t have to spend holidays with your parents if you had a girlfriend.”

“Y/n is single too. So is Frankie! And Wonjae hyung too.”

“I'm not worried about Y/n. She’s almost there since she’s traveling with all those handsome and pretty men. There's eight of them, right? You're still young, you don't have to settle down with one of them. Just have fun and--"

"Mom!" Wonseok groans, burying his head in his hands.

“What?" She asks innocently. "I was young once. How do you think you got here?”

“Adoption,” Wonseok answers quickly.

“That would have been easier than what actually happened. I was in labor with you for 12 hours. You had a big head." She pats Wonseok's normally shaped head.

Wonseok stares into space for a moment thinking, or maybe dissociating, before letting out a deep sigh and setting down his spoon. “…Suddenly, I’ve lost my appetite,”

You clear your throat both to stifle a laugh at Wonseok's expense and to redirect the conversation. Fortunately, the redirection worked. Unfortunately, the attention is brought back to you.

"Speaking of which, Y/n, has anything sparked between you and any of those boys? What's their name? Lost Boys or something like that?" Wonseok's mom eagerly turns to you. You know she doesn't get these kinds of interactions with either of her sons. You and Frankie are the only ones who'll even talk to her about this sort of thing.

"Stray Kids," You correct politely. "And no, it's not exactly professional. I'm there just to take photos of them and interview them for the company."

"That's true, and I admire your professionalism. But your heart and your brain aren't always in agreement. Your brain might be focused on the business aspect of things, but your heart has no true understanding of those boundaries. Nobody is going to fault you for having feelings for one of them. And you're a very intelligent, loving, and capable woman who is also very beautiful, I wouldn't be surprised if all of them fell for you."

"Mom," Wonseok quickly grabs a napkin and wipes the corners of his mouth. "The heart may want what it wants but you don't understand the field Y/n works in. Even if the idols are allowed to date, many of their fans will cause an uproar so it's just better not to. Plus, even if it were easy, she would do all of them all of the time or work in her hotel room. She doesn't have the time."

Wonseok isn't completely incorrect. He's right about how difficult and troublesome dating an idol would be. The amount they work alone is taxing and you're not sure how any of them would have time for a personal and dating life on top of that. But some members of their fanbase don't understand the meaning of the word "boundaries" and would make the life of whoever is dating an idol, hell. But he is wrong about the fact that you're with all of them all of the time. In your free time, you are with some of them as they continue to visit you while you work in cafes. But more recently, Changbin has made more of an appearance in your daily life, without any of the other members.

You know for a fact that he hates the idea of being pent up in a hotel room when he's on tour so he tries to do something every day so he's not stuck inside. But after the two of you officially reconciled, he's been making his way down to the cafe where you're often emailing your team members back and forth or working on your parts of the project. Most of the time, he sits there quietly, doing his own work while you do yours. And then after a while, he'll invite you to go and eat with him somewhere to take a break. Somehow, you've found yourself around the person you disliked the most at first. It’s not like you’ve imagined crossing the boundary between artist and journalist into…romantic partners (?) with Changbin. But you somehow found yourself being the closest to him out of all of the members and you two are alone in public a lot. So if there were ever an opportunity for a dating scandal, it would be with him.

"Love knows no bounds. Trust me, I hated your father at first and he hated me. Once we reconciled our differences, we started to become friendly, but my parents weren't the biggest fans of it. And his mother absolutely hated me. Still, we got married, had you and Wonjae, and eventually your grandparents got nicer. It was tough but we survived it."

“I think having your in-laws hate you is different than having basically the whole world hate you. What’s that phrase you always say, Y/n? ‘Hell hath no fury like a sasaeng scorned?’” Wonseok turns his attention to you, an amused smile creeping up on his face.

“That’s one part. The company will always make matters worse too. Plus, I’m meant to be behind the camera. Not in front of it. That's where I'm most comfortable.” You shrug him off, gently kicking him under the table to tell him to change the subject.

"Alright, alright, enough about Y/n's nonexistent love life," Wonseok laughs, turning back to his mother. "When are dad and Jae hyung coming back?"

"Maybe they ran away," She shrugs nonchalantly before taking one more large sip from her cup.

Both you and Wonseok can't help but laugh at her unbothered nature. The three of you continue to eat your food, making light conversation as you catch up. Both Wonseok's dad and brother returned home by the time you finished eating and began sorting through the ornaments in the box beside the Christmas tree.

The rest of the day was pretty much similar. The five of you stayed in the living room, setting up the tree while a drama played in the background. You, Wonseok, and Wonjae decorated the tree while their mother went back and forth between cooking and directing where to put what. Their dad mostly sat on the couch, micromanaging where the ornaments should go and commenting on the drama. As stressful as it was--decorating for holidays always comes with its own stressors--it was the most relaxed you've been in a while.

***

"It's bulletproof, mother fucker," You, Wonseok, and Wonjae quote in unison.

"Goodness," Wonseok's mother yells from the kitchen. "Can't the three of you watch something more festive? It's Christmas!"

You and Wonseok chuckle quietly to yourselves as Wonjae grabs the remote and raises the volume. You watch as he sets the remote back down on the coffee table, next to a few opened boxes from earlier.

Much to your annoyance, both Wonseok and Wonjae had woken you up around 8 in the morning, despite the fact that the three of you were up late drinking and talking outside until late. While you were still waking up, they went to wake their parents up and then all 5 of you went downstairs to open gifts and eat breakfast together. After a couple of hours of opening gifts and eating, the three of you decided to just sit around and watch movies while their dad went on a walk and their mom disappeared off into the kitchen.

"Ah, it's a duplicate. Wonnie, do want either of these?" Wonjae nudges his younger brought with the bottom of his foot. Wonseok looks up and sees that his older brother is holding up two Pokemon cards, part of the Christmas gifts you brought both of them from Tokyo.

"Munchlax and Snorelax? I already pulled those," Wonseok shakes his head and goes back to going through his cards and watching the movie.

"Can I have them?" You sit up on your elbows and turn your attention away from the movie.

"Yeah, sure," Wonjae reaches over Wonseok and hands you the cards. You take the cards from him and go back into your original position, examining the foiled cards in your hands.

"When did you start collecting cards?" Wonseok peers over his shoulder at you as you set the cards down in your pile of gifts.

"It's not for me. I know someone who loves Munchlax and Snorelax. Might as well give them to someone who'll appreciate them." You hum as you try to focus on the movie again.

Ring ding dong, ring ding dong

Ring diggy ding diggy ding ding ding

Both you and Wonjae look around the room for the sudden music. A few seconds later Wonseok jumps up and digs his phone up from the pile of Pokemon card wrappers.

"When the fuck did you change your ring tone to Ring Ding Dong by SHINee?" You scoff as you sit up.

"When my K-pop-obsessed best friend stopped being here to harass me with music every day," He mutters under his breath, his ears quickly turning red as he answers the call. "What do you want?"

You settle back down on the couch, making sure to throw your legs over Wonseok's lap before trying, once again, to watch the movie.

"Huh? Y/n? She's right here...Why are you calling me if you want to talk to her?"

"Because you took away my phone, you dumbass," You kick Wonseok as you pull yourself up again.

"Oh, that's right," He says sheepishly. You grab the remote and pause the movie. "I'm going to put you on speaker."

"I'm going to go, I have a date later. Thank you, Y/n," Wonjae smacks the back of Wonseok's neck and pats you on the head as he gets up before retreating upstairs to his room.

"Thank God Wonnie picked up the phone or else I would have thought something absolutely diabolical was going on," Frankie whines on the phone.

You quickly grab the phone from Wonseok's hands. He pulls a face at you, almost like the mere idea of dating you can make him throw up. You try your best to keep your own breakfast down. "Never say that again, Franks." You whine back.

"Well, you're the one who didn't pick up their phone!" You hear some rustling on the other side. "Merry Christmas, by the way."

"Merry Christmas, Francesca!" Both you and Wonseok cheer in unison.

"I'm only calling now because I've had a day today and I'm planning on getting shit-faced and sleeping in tomorrow." She mutters, the exhaustion heavy in her voice. "What did you guys do? What did you get?"

"Not much," You grab some of the wrappers that fell on the floor and hand them to Wonseok. "Got some clothes, books, and self-care stuff. We've been watching movies all day though. Which is why my phone has been held hostage."

"I'm craving hotteok so I'm going to see if I can convince you to go out with me to get some later." Wonseok pips up. He tries to get his phone back from you but you pull it just out of his reach.

"I'd kill for hotteok right now. Seriously, I'd trade my sister for a bite." She groans on the other end of the phone.

"How's Cape Elizabeth?" You ask softly. You know how stressed she gets around her family. And if she's calling you close to midnight her time, she's probably losing it.

"Small," More rustling plays through the speaker. "Speaking of which, Wonseok op--Wonnie, I need to ask you something."

There's a slight pause both on the phone and in the room. If you didn't know any better, you'd think you accidentally hit the pause button on the room. Maybe even yourself. Like you're somehow interrupting something. Wonseok doesn't look at you and instead focuses on the phone in your hands.

"It's fine, you can talk. I'm going to go and take a shower since someone wants me to leave the house in below-freezing weather on my last day off for a while." You hand the phone back to Wonseok and collect your things.

"Are you sure? I did call to talk to you."

"Yeah, just call me after if you aren't too drunk by then." You make a kiss noise over the intercom and then organize your bags of gifts.

Ready to go, you stand right in front of Wonseok and stick out your hand, palm facing up. He looks at you for a moment before digging into his pocket and gently placing your phone in your hands. You let out a satisfied hum before running upstairs, going right past the first articles you, Frankie, and Wonseok ever wrote printed and framed on the wall right next to pictures of all three of you.

You quietly scroll through your phone as you walk up.

You still aren't used to your lock screen or the contact names on your phone. Seungmin changed them for you while you were at the airport. Originally, you thought he was only going to change the lock screen. Before, you had a picture that you had taken at a concert you covered earlier in the year.

But then Seungmin went on a longwinded rant about how unprofessional it was for you to have another group on your phone while you were temporarily on the staff for them. You gave him your phone and told him to "go ape shit" thinking that he'd just change the photo. You didn't expect him to change the contact names and photos of all of the members while he was at it.

You set your phone down on the bed and dig through your suitcase for something you can wear when you go out with Wonseok. It's only to get hotteok but knowing Wonseok, the two of you are going to get sidetracked and be out later than you planned.

Oink, oink!

You look around on the floor, confused about where the noise came from. Your eyes finally land on your phone with the screen lighting up brightly. Another thing you didn't realize. Seungmin gave everyone custom ringtones. You laugh to yourself as you pick up your phone and answer.

"Hello?" You continue digging around your bag, tossing possible contenders onto your bed to look at later.

You hear some movement on the other end of the line before someone clears their throat.

"Good morning, noona! Merry Christmas," Changbin's familiar soft, warm voice rings in your ear.

"Good morning and Merry Christmas to you too." You find a sweater that you like at the bottom of the bag and set it on top of everything else. "You didn't have to call by the way."

"What? I can't call and greet my elders properly?" He jokingly scoffs.

"I'm barely 3 years older! Don't act like I'm on my deathbed!"

"Three years is a lot at your age. Be careful, noona!" He teases further.

"Did you call me just to bully me, Changbin-ssi?" You press your phone between your shoulder and cheek while you get up from the floor.

"I called to wish you a 'Merry Christmas!'" You can hear him click his touch over the speaker. "And to make sure you're not working on stuff right now."

"It's Christmas Day,"

"You never know with you!"

"This is coming from the man whose group announced a comeback two days after a Japanese release, during a world tour." You backflop down onto the bed, staring at the smooth white ceiling. Part of you wonders if Changbin is also lying in a similar position.

It's weird, how normal this conversation is. If someone were to tell you that you'd be sitting on the phone talking to one of the idols you followed and admired on Christmas Day and that he had hated you for a few months, you're almost certain that you'd have a stroke.

"Touché," A loud laughter rings through the phone. "No, but seriously, I'd rather call and wish everyone a merry Christmas."

"All of your group members texted me,"

"They're boys," You can almost picture the creeping up on Changbin's face as he tries not to laugh. How his neck and ears might be slowly turning red. "And incredibly shy. Even the extroverted ones"

"Oh trust me, I know. I've been around all eight of you long enough to know."

There's a pause. You can hear a low hum coming from Changbin's end of the line. Other than that, you can only hear your own breathing and the buzzing from the heater above. It's still awkward between you and Changbin, even more so over the phone. At least when you were on tour, it made sense to have conversations like this with him. But now--

"If I'm being completely honest, I'm kind of bored. My noona has plans with her boyfriend and my parents are taking naps before going out to dinner." He admits softly.

"Then it's a real shame that I'm going to have to leave you soon."You flip over to your stomach and start to pull at the fabric of your comforter.

"Oh, you have plans? I didn't realize that you had a b--"

Knock, knock, knock

"Y/n! I'm going to take a shower real quick and then we can go!" Wonseok calls from the other side of the door.

"Okay!" You call back, You scramble to your feet and grab clothes at the top of the pile. "Sorry, Changbin, I have to get ready or else there's going to be a hangry situation. I'll talk to you later?"

"Yeah, I'll call again around the New Year's. Goodbye, noona!"

"Merry Christmas, Changbin!" You hum one more time before hanging up the call and getting your things ready.

—

Buy me a coffee?

—

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eudaimaniacs · 13 hours ago

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trying for one (hugh jackman x female reader)

summary: babysitting and playing with your niece made your husband, Hugh, think about starting a family. however, the conversation and idea of it makes you nervous, but Hugh's there to soothe your worries.

word count: 1.5k words

notes: i've been in a fluff and soft mood since the upcoming workload for my finals will definitely make me burnt out. so, don't expect some smut coming (unless inspiration strikes). enjoy!

“Can I play with you again, aunt [Y/N]?”

The joyful giggles of the little girl jumping on the carpet filled Hugh’s apartment. You get infected and chuckle at the wondrous excitement of your niece, Penelope. Her adorable plush, a brown teddy bear holding a heart, gets dragged on the ground by its feet. You playfully run after her as Penelope runs to the kitchen, still giggling.

“Uncle Hugh, Aunt [Y/N] is chasing me!” Penelope takes a glimpse behind and sees you slowly running towards her. She comes into contact with Hugh, who’s cooking dinner and baking some chocolate chip cookies for your niece to snack on later. Hugh laughs at Penelope’s energy and attempts to hide from you by holding onto his leg.

You tease Penelope and shriek, “You can’t hide away from me, Penny! I can still see you.” The little girl hugs Hugh’s leg tightly, with the teddy bear joining in. She playfully rubs her face as she closes her eyes. Hugh stops stirring the soup and looks down at the young girl.

“Don’t worry, Penny. You’re safe with me,” Hugh joins the game as he laughs at you, defeated that you can’t quickly grab your niece. Penelope’s grip on her uncle’s leg was firm and Hugh was equally too. You sit down on the floor and give a fake pout, signaling defeat. Hugh and Penelope burst out laughing at your expression. You put your hands up and sigh to your niece that you give up on chasing her. Also, dinner was starting soon, and you didn’t want a hyper child bothering you and Hugh.

You stand up and grab Penelope, who has now stopped hugging Hugh’s leg. Carrying her to the living room, you caress her hair and tell your niece how tired you are already. Her giggles filled the apartment again as she poked your cheek, teasing how you had given up already because of her uncle. Hugh’s eyes softened, and the sides of his lips creased as he saw the two of you cleaning up Penelope’s toys sprawled on the carpet. He admired how comfortable you were at babysitting your niece. It didn’t feel like a chore but, instead, an opportunity for the two of you to connect more. Having Hugh as Penelope’s uncle was an added benefit, as the three of you would roleplay as the X-Men. Your niece loved that the Wolverine was her uncle and was often excited when your older brother would ask you to take care of her.

The topic of starting a family with Hugh has come up several times; however, the schedules clashed, and there was no time to get pregnant without a film shooting, press tour, awarding, and any event getting in the way. In spite of that, you and Hugh wanted to raise children, and with you babysitting Penelope occasionally, your husband was more than eager to start it as soon as possible.

After a wondrous dinner with Penelope mimicking Hugh’s character by growling and her countless tales of boasting that her uncle is Wolverine and her aunt is a famous actress, you were glad that her eyes began fluttering. You dressed her in comfortable pajamas and waited for her to sleep soundly in the guest bedroom. The peaceful sight of your niece dreaming while hugging her teddy bear made your heartstrings tug. You wanted to start a life, a new chapter where you and Hugh would have some little mini me’s running and playing around the house.

You close the lights and the door, then make your way to the kitchen, where Hugh’s cleaning the dishes. The look of domestic life on your husband produced butterflies in your stomach. He was tender and hugged you every day, and your heart became warmer. Hugh was a complete package—he could cook and clean, had a great sense of humor, was a gentleman, and many more qualities that you couldn’t list off in a day. Having him as your husband was great, but him being the father of your children was beyond that.

You embrace Hugh from behind and kiss his shoulders, eliciting a surprised hum from him. You swayed and lightly sang some sweet-nothing as your husband washed the dishes. The lights of New York City sparkled in the dark blue sky; it looked like stars twinkling for the two of you. You closed your eyes and rested your forehead against Hugh’s broad back. You sighed and hugged him tighter, trying to find the words to start the conversation.

Hugh’s profound yet silky soft voice broke the silence, “Got something on your mind, darling?” Your throat seizes up as you are still nervous to bring up the topic. But what were you scared of? Hugh was comfortable with starting a family, and so were you, but the current schedules and the combined fame of the two of you could be the downfall of the marriage. You saw some of your famous friends getting divorced after having children, and the media dragged the story until they found a new one. You know your marriage with Hugh won’t end up like that; however, time can deteriorate the relationship and you don’t want your future children to be affected.

“A lot, actually, but don’t mind me, Hugh,” you whisper and lightly rub your face against his wool sweater. Hugh hummed at your answer as he took the towel to dry his arms. He turned around to see you looking down and lightly playing with your fingers. Hugh knew what you were precisely thinking, so he grabbed your hand and guided you to the living room. You rest your head on his shoulder, fussing with the blanket. Hugh wrapped his arm around your waist, smelling the floral scent of your hair.

“Is it about Penelope?” Hugh gently pressed the question, starting the family conversation. You look up, and your gaze softens as your eyes begin to water. Hugh softly grabbed your face and passionately kissed you. The taste of his lips and the way your tongues danced assured you that Hugh would listen and understand you. You broke the kiss and gently tickled his chin. Hugh’s arms were now rubbing your back, patiently waiting for your answer.

“Well, it’s almost about her. I just had a thought, and I hope you won’t be—”

“Is it about starting a family?” Hugh’s eyebrows raised as he finally asked the central question of the night. You nervously chuckle and avert your gaze away.

Hugh ran his fingers through your hair and softly whispered, “Don’t be scared of that, [Y/N]. I’ve always wanted to have children with you, and seeing you taking care of Penelope made me want it to happen faster.” You sighed and finally told your husband how scared you were to start a family with your careers and the fame that could kill your marriage. Your voice trembled at the thought of having a broken family, and the media and internet won’t ever let the two of you forget it.

Hugh waited for you to let out all of your emotions, and when you cried on his chest, he silenced and massaged your back. He made sure that all of your worries faded into the night. While he didn’t want the conversation about starting a family to make you cry, Hugh was happy that you brought up your fears instead of hiding them from him.

“We haven’t tried yet, [Y/N]. You don’t have to be scared. I’m always here for you, no matter what,” Hugh soothingly reassures you that his love for you won’t go away. You hugged him tighter as if he was going to be taken away from you. Hugh gently sang your favorite song as he kissed every spot that would cure your fears. Your heart followed the soft melodies he was singing and felt every light in the city guiding you to Hugh’s light again.

You looked up at your husband and wiped your tears with your shirt. Your tear-stricken face displays little hope as you ask, “Are we going to try right now?”

Hugh lightly chuckled and answered, “Of course, my darling. I want to start a family with you. However, I want you to be relaxed. I don’t want you to be scared and worried. Always remember that I will be here when we have our first child.”

You crack a little smile as Hugh continues to soothe every worried area of your body and soul. You sleep on his chest and dream of the day when the two of you finally tried having a child that would blossom into a beautiful family. Hugh carried you to the bedroom, akin to how you took Penelope’s sleeping figure, covered you with blankets, and hugged you tighter. His eyes softly gazed and prayed that your anxieties would be gone by the morning. The night sky took your darkest thoughts of starting a new chapter with Hugh, and as the sun broke, the hopeful idea of trying for one finally filled your heart.

eudaimaniacs - 2024

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thehereticdiaries · 2 days ago

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Pack Mentality: Chapter Three

Chapter Summary: You upgrade your phone and return to your parents' house to pack. Chan has some choice words for your father. You get some one-on-one time with the pack alpha.

Warnings: Implied slut-shaming

Series Masterlist

Later that night, you climbed into bed next to Felix. The blonde lent you a t-shirt and sweats to wear to sleep. You had to tie the drawstring on the pants super tight to keep them from falling off. You practically laid on top of your fellow omega, tucking your nose into his collarbone.

“Hey Felix?” He hummed in acknowledgment. “I don’t want to be rude, but why don’t you and Chan share a room?”

“Normally we do. Jeongin was a late bloomer, he only just presented as an alpha a few months ago. I swapped rooms with him for a bit so Chan can help him adjust to his new instincts.” The current room arrangements paired Chan with Jeongin, Changbin with Hyunjin, Minho with Jisung, and finally the room you were in now: Seungmin and Felix.

“Hey, you should get some sleep,” Seungmin announced after shutting the door behind him. You were only a little jealous of how cozy his sleep pants looked. “You went through a lot today, and you have a lot to do tomorrow.”

“I know.” The beta leaned over Felix to press a quick kiss to your temple, then settled into his own bed. “Seungmin?”

“What’s up, love?”

“Thank you, for everything.”

It took Felix over ten minutes to drag you out of bed. It was already later in the morning, so you had to get ready to head out right after leaving the warm cocoon of blankets. You changed into your jeans from yesterday and a clean sweater from Minho.

“Come on, Chan’s probably bugging out cus we’re leaving later than he wanted to,” Felix snickered. Sure enough, the pack alpha was pacing the kitchen. He seriously wanted to get this over with so you could finally be rid of your father. You were handed a granola bar and corralled out the door.

Getting your phone upgraded and on to the pack’s plan was fairly easy, albeit extremely tedious. You were in the store for nearly an hour and a half. By the end of it, you were bored out of your mind. Since your dad didn’t allow any social media accounts (every new tidbit of information about your dad pissed your pack members off even more), you watched Felix scroll through his. Finally, you exited the store with an iPhone 15 wrapped in a floral case and screen protector. You used your old phone to let your mom know you were on your way.

“Hi, honey!” Your mom swung the door open before you could even take your keys out of your pocket.

“Hi mom,” you smiled at her. “These are my friends Chan, Felix, and Changbin. They’re gonna help me pack and get my stuff to the new apartment.”

“Oh, Ji-ah couldn’t come?” You shook your head. The worry was evident on her face, and it made you feel even worse about lying to her.

“She’s getting her own boxes unpacked,” you explained. “I’ll introduce you soon, I promise.” Your mom stepped to the side so you could come in.

“Your father’s in the kitchen, you should go say hi.” Chan tensed at your side. “We have some boxes in the garage, I’ll show your friends where they are.”

“I can go with Y/N, I’m sure her dad would like to know that we’re gonna take good care of her.” Felix rested his hand on your lower back.

“Her and Ji-ah, I hope,” your mom teased.

“Of course, ma’am. We actually live on the floor above them, so if you’d like any of our phone numbers please let us know,” Chan offered. Your mom perked up a bit, nodding and taking out her phone as she led the alphas to the garage. Your dad leaned against the counter, sipping on a cup of coffee.

“Well, I didn’t think I’d be seeing you back so soon. You must be real excited to be the shiny new toy for those alpha boys,” he smirked over the rim of the mug. Felix’s face hardened, a complete contrast to his gentle hands taking your old phone.

“Here, you can have this piece of shit back.” Felix approached your dad and threw the phone on the counter next to him. Your dad glared at the phone, then at Felix.

“You better watch your fucking tone with me, omega,” he sneered and slammed his mug on the counter. Coffee spilled over the side and onto your old phone. Felix didn’t falter under the intensity of your father. The blonde tilted his head, baring his teeth in challenge.

“Or what?” Your dad clenched his fists at his sides and took a step toward Felix. You held your breath.

“The boxes are ready!” You thanked every god you could think of when your mom poked her head into the kitchen. It was like flipping a switch. At the sight of your mom, your dad’s demeanor instantly turned friendly.

“If you ever need any help, you know we’re just a phone call away.” Your dad ruffled your hair and stalked over to his home office. You took a deep, shuddering breath before leading Felix to your room. Chan and Changbin were already inside with boxes set up.

“I’ll leave you to it. Let me know if you need anything,” your mom said as she closed the door.

“I fucking hate your dad,” Felix scoffed after your mom’s footsteps faded.

“What did he do?” Chan bristled. A muscle twitched in Chan’s neck as he ground his teeth.

“Called our omega a “shiny new toy” then tried to intimidate me,” Felix shrugged. Chan scoffed, tongue poking the inside of his cheek.

“Can we please just pack so we can leave?” You pleaded, already tense from the confrontation in the kitchen. They nodded, silently moving to put your entire life into cardboard boxes. You paused in the middle of folding a t-shirt. “What are we going to do about my furniture? My mom thinks I’m moving into an apartment, I can’t just leave it here.

“I can have a moving company take them later in the week. Whether we put it in storage or donate it is up to you,” Chan offered without looking up from your photo album. Inside were dozens of photos from when you were young, before you presented as an omega. You looked like a perfect family. You rarely went through that album anymore. The memories made your heart ache too much.

After an hour, you had all of your essentials loaded into five boxes. You tried to help Chan and Changbin carry them out to the SUV, but they were having none of it. You and Felix leaned on the hood of the car. Your mom approached and engulfed you in a tight hug. Felix rubbed circles on your shoulders while you exchanged teary goodbyes.

“If you need anything please let me know,” your mom urged. She cupped your face in her hands.

“I will, I promise.” You covered one of her hands with your own. She smiled, a mix of pride and sadness welling in her chest.

“When did my baby girl get so grown up?” You dug yourself back into her neck, basking in her comforting scent for what might be the last time for a while.

Your dad stood in front of the door, arms crossed but a neutral look adorning his face. Changbin was getting the last box into the trunk, so Chan took the opportunity to talk to your dad.

“Can I give you a piece of advice, man to man?” Chan shoved his hands into his pockets. Your dad raised an eyebrow.

“I’d hardly call you a man, but I’ll humor you.” Chan’s easy-going posture immediately straightened out so he stood at his full height. He glowered down at your father, eyes cold and steely. He leaned closer, invading your dad’s space.

“Don’t ever fuck with my omegas,” he growled low in his chest. Chan stepped back, satisfied with the hint of fear swimming in your dad’s eyes. With one final goodbye to your mom, the four of you climbed into the car and drove off toward the dorms. Felix messaged the group chat to let everyone know you were almost home. You pulled into a parking spot and were met with Minho, Jeongin, and Seungmin waiting to help unload the car.

“Is this everything?” Jeongin asked. “Only five boxes?” You nodded sheepishly. The young alpha shrugged and lifted one of the boxes, followed quickly by the other non-omegas.

“Where should I put everything?” You looked at Chan once in the elevator.

“For now, try to keep the boxes mostly packed. You may not want your own bed, but we’ll have to get you a dresser for yourself.” He nudged you with his elbow. You hummed in affirmation. Your boxes were stacked in the corner of Seungmin and Felix’s room.

“I’ll get lunch started,” Minho said mostly to himself as he moved to the kitchen. Everyone followed suit, but you stopped Chan by tugging the back of his shirt.

“Everything alright?” He ran a hand down your arm, stopping to hold the hand on his shirt.

“Yea, but can we talk for a minute?” Chan closed the door and sat next to you on Felix’s bed. He rested a hand on your knee. “I heard what you said to my dad before we left.”

“I was hoping you didn’t, but I can’t say I regret doing it,” he admitted with a squeeze to your knee. You leaned your chin on his shoulder.

“I’m not upset. I’m telling you because it made me really happy to hear you call me your omega.” You felt his smile when he pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“You are my omega.” You forced down the purr that threatened to rise in the back of your throat.

“I want the pack bond,” you blurted out before you lost your spark of confidence. Chan pulled you back by your shoulders, meeting your eyes with an intensity you weren’t expecting.

“Are you absolutely sure? I don’t want you to feel pressured to–”

“Chan,” you interrupted his rant. His lips pressed into a thin line. “I thought about it the entire ride back here. I’m not doing this because I feel obligated. I want it.” His face softened. He looked at you with a fierce tenderness you’d never seen in anyone. His hands trailed up to your jaw, running his thumb across your heated cheek.

“Can I kiss you?” You nodded without hesitation. His first kiss was feather-light, giving you an opportunity to pull back if you wanted to. When you didn’t, he pressed further into you, one hand cupping the back of your neck and the other resting on your waist. His tongue darted out against your bottom lip, and you parted them so he could lick into your mouth. You squeaked when he nipped at your lip. He breathed out a laugh at your reactions, moving from your mouth down to the sensitive skin under your ear. His kisses were hot and heavy as he worked his way to your scent gland, already addicted to the taste of you.

“Ready?” He mumbled against your neck. You nodded, heart racing against your ribcage. “I need words, baby.”

“I’m ready, please, Chan.” He licked over your gland one last time. Then his teeth sunk into your skin, sending a rush of emotions down your spine. You couldn't stop the quiet moan that fell from your lips. He bit down harder, then pulled back to soothe the fresh wound with his tongue. Once he was satisfied, he leaned back to admire the bite and your sappy, dazed expression.

“Your turn,” Chan smiled and pulled his t-shirt to the side, revealing overlapping bond marks. You copied his actions, littering his neck with soft kisses. He gripped the comforter to hold himself back. Finally, you bit down to add a mark of your own to his collection. You released your hold on his gland and before you could lap at the blood seeping from the new mark, Chan kissed you again hard. His fingers skimmed under the hem of your shirt. This was when your stomach decided to interrupt with a loud grumble.

“Sorry,” you giggled and rested your forehead against his. Chan pressed another quick kiss to your lips before pulling you up and out to the kitchen. To say the others were excited about your new bond would be the understatement of the century. You were practically drowned in the pack’s kisses, only saved by food being set on the table.

A week flew by and you were happier than you’ve ever been in the past couple of years. There was only one thing lingering in the back of your mind. Your heat was getting closer and you had yet to tell Chan what you wanted to do. It wasn’t on purpose, but between their schedule and your classes you didn’t have time to talk to him. Your opportunity arose when everyone except for you, Chan, and Hyunin went out to get drinks at a bar down the street. You softly knocked on the door to Chan and Jeongin’s room. The former twisted around in his office chair, pulling his headphone down to rest on his neck.

“Hey, love, you doing alright?”

“Yes, but I do need to tell you something.” You stepped further into the room, hesitating by the end of the desk. He patted his lap and held his arms open for you. After you made yourself comfortable you hyped yourself up to say what was on your mind.

“Okay, I thought about what you told me on my first night here.” You paused, trying to word this correctly. “I’ve decided that I want your help. I don’t want to be alone for my heat”

“I’m not gonna lie, I was really hoping you’d say that,” Chan smirked at your blush. You flicked his forehead.

“I’m not done!” You huffed. He raised his eyebrows at your bold teasing. You averted your gaze to your lap. “I also want your claim.” He inhaled sharply, dropping his head to your shoulder for a brief moment before turning your face back to his with a finger under your chin.

“Darling, I would be more than happy to do both of those for you. We’ll go to the sanctuary hotel to get a room set up.” You furrowed your brows.

“We both need to go? Wait, why are we even going to a hotel?”

“We’re going to the hotel because if anyone interrupts I might start throwing punches.” Your jaw dropped.

“What?!”

“Sorry.” Chan winced. “That was meant to be a joke.” You visibly relaxed. “But in all seriousness, we’re going because I don’t want you overwhelmed by everyone. This will be your first heat with us and it’s very soon after we met. I’d like to give you more time to settle in before more than one of us are there for your heat.” Your face turned bright red at the implication.

“O-okay, but I still don’t know why we both need to go to set up the reservation.”

“You have to sign some paperwork to confirm that I’m allowed in your room. They take the safety of the omegas very seriously. No alpha or beta is allowed past the reception desk without verifying their ID and getting checked by security.”

“Oh, wow, that’s actually really nice,” you commented. “When can we go?” Chan smiled with a look in his eye reserved for you and Felix. He captured your lips with his own for a quick but sweet kiss.

“We’ll go on Monday.” He patted your hip. “You wanna stay here or hang out with Hyunjin?” You wrapped your arms tighter around his neck.

“Here.”

“I gotta warn you, it’s gonna be boring since I’m just working on some new mixes.” You borderline purr against his neck. He pecked your forehead and slid his headphones back on, focusing on his PC and enjoying your warmth.

Permanent Taglist: @furfoxsake22 @babygirlskz98 @miniverse-zen @holly-here

Series Taglist (Names in red could not be tagged): @ihrtlix @ohh-to-be-rich-and-pretty @queen-in-the-shadows @whoreforeverythingspice @staytinyluv @bear8585 @lxvxchxrlxttxbxrsx22-blog @chaoticfaelle @emo-cosplayer @cookiesandcreammy @m00njinnie

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bottledupcomic · 15 hours ago

Text

Bottled Up Logo Version 3

I still can't promise when BUP will be back, life is way too uncertain at the moment. But with the new logo design done, one big hurdle is done for and I am excited

Edit: so why new logo? I suppose I haven't talked about this too much outside of streams. But BUP is getting a soft reboot and a style change to black/white comic similar to what I did with Heroes of Inkopolis, with some colour spots here and there. Like first chapters of Cafe Cardamari. I will talk about this all more later. But I felt a new logo would be nice for the reboot and I wasn't 100% happy with the previous one.

#Bottled up #art #logo

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moody-alcoholic · 2 days ago

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These Violent Delights

Chapter 16 - My Dark Disquiet

Summary: Poly 141 x fem!reader, a/b/o alternate universe 8.7k words. Things are getting better slowly.

CW: a/b/o alternative universe, a/b/o dynamics, typical a/b/o universe tropes, hurt with some comfort, depression, mental health, descriptions of weapons, vomit, language, angst, nightmares, talks of death, alcohol, drugging/ sedation, mentions of miscarriage, mentions of past abuse.

Previous - masterlist - next AO3

Enjoy <3

The pain is still there. Every morning that you wake up, you think it will be better. It never is. Dr. Piper is still dead.

Maybe it was better when you were in the bunker the first time you thought she had died. Professor Hale kept you so busy you didn’t get much time to think. He blamed you for her death. She tried to get you out, but you got caught and then he killed her. At least that’s what he had told you.

John should have done the swap. Then she would be alive. This is as much your fault as it is his. He said he would save her but really it was your job.

Your heart aches. It’s a deep throbbing pain that feels like it’s never going away. The pain reminds you you’re alive. Maybe one day you’ll just get used to it.

You slept through the night for the first time last night. You didn’t dream, but you didn’t have nightmares either. Maybe you are healing. You don’t know if you want to heal. Healing means moving on, and you can’t imagine moving on without Dr. Piper.

Johnny comes in with a cup of tea. You sit up in bed making space for him.

“We’re going to be leaving tomorrow, late tomorrow around 10pm,” he says. Your stomach suddenly turns as you take in the news. You don’t want to leave. You want to keep the only connection with Dr. Piper you know is left.

“I don’t want to leave,” you say quietly, squeezing your hands round the mug.

“You’ll like the UK. You’ll love Scotland, and there's so much land. You can spend as much time as you want outside,” he says, nudging you. You sigh. Being outside sounds nice. It’s been too long since you’ve seen greenery.

When the Professor told you she was dead, you had mourned for months, and you still had to endure his abuse. At least now you have a pack around you. Your pack. Except it doesn’t matter though because it's your pack's fault she's dead.

You hand your mug back to Johnny. You’re not hungry or thirsty. You don’t want anything, you just want to sleep.

“Do you want any pain killers?” he asks. “You might want some. We’re going to be travelling for a while.” You shake your head looking up at him. He sighs, squeezing your thigh then getting up.

“Let me know if you change your mind,” he says as he heads for the door.

“Johnny,” you call. He turns looking back at you.

“Can I go for a shower later?” you ask, looking up at him. He smiles back at you.

“There’s a bath here too. Maybe that would be better?” You nod. A long hot bath does sound good.

John puts the vial on the table. It’s a sedative. He picked it up from the hospital while you were there. It’s a last resort. He thought maybe you would have been feeling better by now, or at least not so deep in your depressive state.

He’s worried about how you’re going to react to being in an unusual space with unusual people, strangers. Or maybe being in a confined space with him is worse. Travelling for so long is hard on anyone, let alone you right now.

“What do you think?” John asks as he looks round the room.

“I don’t think drugging her is going to get you back in her good graces,” Kyle says.

“It’s 2 flights, almost 12 hours not including another few hours’ drive,” John says. Johnny sighs looking at the others.

“What would Dr. Montgomery do if she was here?” Johnny asks.

“We wouldn’t be having this discussion if she was here,” Simon’s voice comes back harshly.

“Me and Gaz can keep her calm, she seems to be fine around us,” Johnny says.

“I’m worried about her distressing. We’re going to be in a stuffy cargo plane for hours surrounded by strangers,” John explains. The closest you’d come was when you ran from them in the forest. John looks round them all. He remembers how distressed you were when you woke up in the hospital. Your eyes, blown wide, screaming for him. For your alpha. It only stopped when they sedated you, and it seems you don’t even remember.

There's a collective sigh in the room. They were all there too. They all witnessed it.

“She hasn’t yet, maybe she won’t,” Kyle shrugs.

“One causes more harm than the other,” John says coldly. “Last time was close, too close and there’s no Dr. Montgomery to save her. It would be down to us.”

“If we decide, how do we get her to take it? She won't even take her pain meds. She’s definitely not going to take a sedative,” Johnny says.

“There are other options.” John looks round them all. Simon even looks up to meet his eye line. “She doesn’t have to know.”

Simon tuts shaking his head then walks past John over to the bedrooms. John sighs as he hears the door slam.

“I guess you both feel the same,” he sighs.

“Well she can't hate you more than she already does,” Johnny says, crossing his arms.

“She doesn't eat, she doesn't sleep. It's almost a day's worth of travel. Maybe it's for the best. Price’s right, if anything happens, we’re stuck in the air,” Kyle says. At least he has Kyle on his side. Johnny lets out a long breath looking over at your room.

“Let me talk to her. Maybe she'll understand and be more willing to take it?” Johnny suggests. Price nods, picking the vial back up.

It’s just afternoon when you sulk out of your bedroom to the bathroom. Johnny said he would prepare the bath for you after dinner. You were kind of regretting it now, you would much rather just take a quick shower. When you leave you look into the living room. Kyle and John are on the sofa watching the TV. You don’t see Simon anywhere.

You walk into the bathroom and Johnny looks up at you. The tub is still filling up. You walk past him feeling the towels on the shelf. They’re soft and fluffy. You pick one out.

“I can leave if you want?” he asks. You turn to look at him. He’s pouring what looks like salt into the water. The smell of rose hits your nose. You haven’t had much privacy over the last few days, over at least a week. You don’t know how many days you’d been in hospital for. Maybe it’s been longer than you think.

You don’t really want to be alone. It feels weird, but you can’t describe it. Maybe it’s because they’re betas but you don’t mind Kyle or Johnny being around. You’ve even gotten used to Simon too. He looks less intimidating without his mask.

“Stay,” you say. He nods and you start to pull your clothes off.

You’re used to Johnny seeing you naked by this point. He’s helped you through 2 heats. Still he averts his eyes from you, watching your face as he finishes preparing the bath. It smells good. He keeps pouring products in making the room smell of lavender, rose and other scents you can’t quite place.

You’re sitting on the toilet watching as he stands back with his hands on his hips. He smiles as you get up walking over to the bath. It’s filled with bubbles. You let the towel drop from your shoulders and dip your hand in feeling the temperature of the water.

“What do you think?” He asks. You nod, stepping into the water. Johnny helps you in as you sit down letting the water rise up above your shoulders. It’s hot but it feels good. You close your eyes for a few seconds letting the water heat through to your bones.

You let out a sigh resting back. You open your eyes looking over at him. He smiles at you.

“That's the smile I love to see,” he says. You didn’t even realise you were smiling. You tip your head to the side letting your hand run over the scar on your neck. The one Dr. Piper left. It’s all you have left from her, the scars she left on your body.

They’ll be healed in a few months, and then you’ll have nothing to remind you, just memories. Right now all the happy memories are tainted. It’s hard to imagine her happy. It's hard to imagine anything other than her suffering. You let out another long sigh watching the bubbles pop on the water.

“I can wash your hair if you want?” he offers, raising an eyebrow. You nod, smiling at him. You sit up leaning forward in the tub. He kneels down beside you pulling the shower head over and some bottles.

You let him work. He takes his time wetting your hair through. His movements are gentle as he works his hands up to massage your scalp. It feels good. He opens bottles of shampoo and conditioner. They smell sweet, like you. Strawberries and cream.

You hug your knees, closing your eyes as Johnny makes sure to get each inch of your hair soapy. It smells good, and it feels good. You hum as his fingers brush through your hair.

“Johnny, why do people call you Soap?” you ask, opening your eyes and turning to look at him.

“I ate a bar of soap in basic,” he says, chuckling.

“Really?” you ask, frowning.

He shakes his head.

“I’m good at my job, I clear rooms quickly,” he says, bringing up the shower head and washing the soap out of your hair.

“Like with enemies and stuff?” you ask, turning your head back and resting your chin on your knees.

“Yeah, or hostages, whatever there is.”

You close your eyes letting out another sigh as you hear another bottle open. Johnny squirts some in his hands before lathering a thick layer on your hair. You feel sad all of a sudden.

Dr. Piper used to do this after your heats. You would be locked in a room naked with a hose. She would bring soaps and scrub your body clean, wash your hair then braid it after. You always looked forward to that, a light in the never ending darkness of your heats.

You miss her so much. You squeeze your eyes closed. You don’t want to cry. Your eyes are so raw from tears. You didn’t think it was possible to cry so much. You didn’t think it would be possible to miss someone so much. You loved her.

The water feels good as Johnny washes the conditioner out of your hair, his hands are soft, gentle. He’s taking his time keeping the warm water flowing over you. It’s relaxing. The steam builds up in the room. It's almost lulling you to sleep.

“Johnny, Do you know how to braid hair?” you ask. It’s a long shot. You don’t expect him to know.

“Yeah,” he replies. You turn to look at him, sniffling. Tears come, but you hope he can’t see them with the water already running down your face.

“Could you braid my hair?” you ask.

He nods, smiling. His hand comes up to brush wet hair out your face. He moves round to the back of the tub. He gathers your hair up and starts to braid it.

“How did you learn?” you ask him.

“I have cousins,” he chuckles. You let out a sigh. You don’t have any family anymore. Dr. Piper is dead, the Professor is dead. Your biological parents—who knows where they are or if they’re still alive. You drop your shoulders as Johnny finishes tying the end of the braid off.

He puts it over your shoulder and you pull it in your hands. He’s done a good job. You run your fingers over it. You feel a chill on the back of your neck. It will be exposed to him. He’ll be able to see John’s mark. Your fingers move around to it. You feel the indents in the skin.

It will never heal, the skin is too sensitive, or special or something. Dr. Piper explained it better. You always thought you would end up with the Professor's mark. Instead you have John’s mark. You let your hand fall as Johnny stands up walking to the side of the tub.

“C’mon, you look like you could use a cup of tea.” He holds the towel out. You nod at him, stepping up out of the bath and into the towel he wraps around you. You can’t keep your hands off the braid. It makes you smile. Maybe you’re healing. Johnny and Kyle have been so kind to you. They have been there for you.

“Thank you,” you say, turning to look at Johnny. He kisses your forehead just like John used to, his thumb coming up to rub your cheek.

“Not a problem.” He smiles.

It feels like it’s never going to be the same again. Maybe you need a change. Maybe going to the UK is going to be a good thing. You don’t like the thought of being stuck on a plane in close quarters with John. It’s going to be a long trip, to a strange place.

At least everything Johnny has told you about the house in the highlands seems nice.

“Did Dr. Montgomery braid your hair for you?” he asks as he opens the door. You nod, tightening the towel around you. When you step out into the main flat goosebumps rise on your body.

John and Kyle are still sat on the sofa as they look over at you. You stare at them for a few seconds. Something inside you burns. You miss John. You miss your alpha. He’s the one who is supposed to be comforting you, telling you everything is going to be okay.

It’s not going to be okay though and you remember why. The burn gets replaced with anger, sadness and you want nothing to do with him. It’s not healthy for you to be away from your alpha for so long. You need to keep the pack threads tight, and right now you’re barely holding on to John’s. Johnny guides you into your room.

He closes the door going over to the pile of clothes they bought you. It’s mostly pyjamas, but you don’t mind. You pick some out Johnny comes over helping you dry. You really don’t need the help but you’re too tired to care.

You change sitting down on the bed as Johnny moves round the room collecting the dirty clothes and towel.

“After my heat. Professor would lock me in a room. It was this dark concrete room with a one way window and a hose. I always hated that room. It was cold and I was always in pain.” You look up at Johnny who comes over to sit next to you. “Dr. Piper would be there. She would wash me with these soaps that always smelled so good. Then she would braid my hair.” You pull on the braid. Johnny’s arm wraps round your back, the other resting on your thigh.

“She took good care of you,” he says. You nod, picking at the skin around your fingers. He sighs, placing his hand on yours. You stop picking and look up at him.

“She loved you, all the way to the end,” he says, his voice low. You feel a lump rising in your chest, and your lip quivers. His hand moves up to your chin, he tips it up so you’re looking directly in his eyes. He has beautiful blue eyes, and a lovely smile.

“All those good memories you have, the good ones with her. That's what you hold on to. She’ll always be with you,” he says. You sniffle, the tears rolling down your face.

“John let her die,” you say, the words sounding foreign coming out your mouth.

“They were both trying to keep you safe. He would never hurt you on purpose.”

“I miss her,” you sob.

“I know. It’s okay,” he says, pulling you into his arms. You cry into his chest while he rubs your back, kissing your head. You can smell his calming scent, and you let yourself breathe it in. Maybe this is healing, maybe this is what healing feels like.

Maybe this is what you need.

“Johnny, will you stay?” you say pulling your face off his chest.

“Course love.” Johnny smiles.

…

Simon sits down next to John on the sofa. He's been avoiding him. Bar following orders, he’s been keeping his distance. He was planning on spending the night in your room again but when he stuck his head in he saw Johnny in your bed. At least you’re not alone. He hates the thought of you being alone.

He’s distracted, going over what happened again and again in his head. John left Piper to die like there was no other way, like they didn’t have a choice. They could have gone back and made another plan to blow the place. They could have dealt with Shadow Company, they could have given Johnny time.

No, John was right during the debrief. Shadow Company were closing in on them, it was the best way to cover their tracks. Piper knew the sacrifice she was making. She would do it every time, she was more like John than she knew. Simon can’t spend his energy worrying about that now. He’s too worried about you.

There's something about the thought of you being alone that makes his blood run cold. You're safe here. No one other than Laswell knows where they are. John sighs, reaching over and filling the glasses sat on the coffee table with whisky.

He pushes one towards Simon.

Truce?

Simon reaches over and picks it up.

Yeah.

John smiles and does the same. The news is playing on the TV, anything to drown out the quiet that hangs over the flat.

“Still mad at me?” he asks before drinking the whole glass. Simon lets out a sigh, taking a sip of the whisky. He doesn’t say anything. He wants to stay mad at John for a long time. He liked Dr. Montgomery, and he doesn’t like seeing you suffer. Who would that help though? No point in causing more rifts in the pack.

He understands the decisions John made, even before the debrief, when they were stuck in the hospital waiting for you to recover and hoping you wouldn’t distress. It was like walking on a knife's edge. John insisted you were kept sedated, at least until your wounds had healed.

Simon remembers you screaming. It was horrible, like nails down a chalkboard. You were crying out for John like you couldn’t see him, even though he was with you the whole time. Maybe it was the strangers, maybe it was the pain, the miscarriage. It could have been a number of things. It felt like they were losing you. But John always knows when to make the tough decisions.

For the greater good.

“Hale is dead, the chemical gone. Graves and Shepherd are off our backs.” Simon finishes his drink. “I know why you did it.”

“But I should have done it differently,” John says as a matter of fact.

Simon sighs. He looks at John. He looks sad. He can see the strain in his face as he pinches the bride of his nose.

“Do you regret it? When you told the omega you should have saved her, did you mean it?” Simon asks as he refills their glasses.

“Yeah, I meant it,” he says. Simon can smell his sincerity in the air. John reaches forward picking up his drink. Simon does the same.

“How long do you think they’ll stay away?” Simon asks. John lets out a sigh letting the glass rest on his knee.

“Who knows. We could be arrested when we step off the plane in the UK,” he sighs.

“That's not going to happen,” Simon scoffs.

“The last few weeks haven’t exactly gone according to plan,” he sighs. Simon can hear the guilt in his voice. He really does feel bad about this.

“Not your fault,” Simon sighs. No need for John to spiral further. “You did what you thought was best.”

“Would you have made the same decision?” John asks him. He looks over at John. He liked Dr. Montgomery, he likes you.

“Yeah I would have,” he admits, looking down. He’s no better than John. “I liked Piper.”

He finishes his drink, putting the glass down.

“Christ Si. I didn’t know.”

“Not like that,” Simon tuts, crossing his arms. Something burns in him though. He doesn’t believe the words coming out his mouth. “Would it have changed your decision?”

“No,” John says, Simon smiles, looking at him. That’s why he’s captain. He made the right choice. Now he’s beating himself up about it. Simon sighs. He shouldn’t push John away; he doesn't deserve it.

For the greater good.

Johnny comes out of your room. Simon looks over before turning back to the TV. He can feel the tension in the air as he moves over to the sofa. He offers him his glass.

Johnny accepts it, Simon can see the gloomy disquiet on his face, not the Johnny Simon is used to seeing.

“I’ll give it to her. You’re her alpha, you're supposed to protect her.” Johnny drinks the whiskey and sits down in one of the chairs putting the glass back down on the coffee table. “If there is any chance of you fixing your relationship with her she needs to trust you again.”

Simon lets out a sigh looking over at John. He can see the pain in his face. He can smell the guilt in the air. He’s doing the right thing, everything to protect the omega. They’re going to be leaving tomorrow, back to the UK, Scotland, somewhere remote and safe.

That's where they can fix the relationships. That's where they can repair the damage done to the pack.

Your scream pierces the silence in the flat. Johnny is on his feet in an instant. John stands up too. The hairs stand up on the back of Simon's neck, his fingers digging into the sofa arm.

Johnny flys through your door with Gaz following behind him, pulling a shirt on. When he sees Johnny’s got you, he closes your door, turning to look at them on the sofa. He smiles. Simon can see the sleep on his face as he heads back to his room.

John sits down letting out a shaky breath rubbing the back of his neck. Simon puts his hand on John's thigh, squeezing it.

“She’ll get better John. She’s got the best people around her. Even Piper knew that.”

“I let her down, I let the pack down,” he says.

“You did what you had to do to protect her. Hale is dead, she’s safe,” Simon says. He reaches over, pouring more whisky into the glasses.

“Soap said we should get something for her,” Gaz says as they get out of the car at the store. Simon hums, locking the car. They’re only supposed to be here for a few things. Things for the flight, things for the next 24 hours.

“Like what?” Simon asks as he pulls the black surgical mask up over his nose.

“I don’t know, maybe a nice blanket or something she could use on the flight.”

“She’ll be knocked out,” Simon says, a little harsher than he means. He’s not happy with it. It is going to be a long trip, though. You’re in pain. At least if you’re sleeping you won’t be in pain.

Simon follows Gaz through the store as he picks up stuff for dinner. Looks like stir fry from what Gaz is putting in the trolley. Simon leaves him in the produce section and heads over to homegoods. He follows the aisle until he comes across pillows and blankets. Simon runs his hands over them. He’s not sure what he’s looking for. The most colourful, fluffiest one.

He picks out a baby blue one and a fluffy matching pillow. He keeps looking, scanning round for something else. One blanket and one pillow doesn’t feel like enough. Gaz sticks his head round the aisle coming up to Simon.

“Think she’ll like it?” he asks as Simon places the pillow and blanket in the shopping basket. Simon just hums picking up a thinner cream one and putting it in too. The hairs stand up on the back of his neck. He looks at Gaz who looks past him for a second, eyes focused on something distant before flicking his eyes back to Simon.

Something's wrong.

“We should get some bottled water,” Gaz says. Simon nods following him out the aisle. “See the man on our 6 with the grey puffer jacket.”

Ghost turns Gaz down an aisle to his right so he can sneak a look. He doesn’t see anything. Maybe he’s turned down a different aisle.

“Split up, let's see who he follows,” Ghost says as they make it to the end of the aisle. His weapon suddenly feels heavy, tucked in his waistband against his back. Gaz nods, splitting left with the trolly down the main middle aisle. Ghost works his way forward.

He doesn’t need to worry too long though as he turns at the end of the aisle he sees the man out the corner of his eye. Ghost takes a sharp left looping back to the middle aisle. His hairs stand up on the back of his neck again. He is being followed. He spies Gaz and nods at him. He turns left, and Ghost follows him.

He can hear the steps behind him. He's still being followed. There’s a staff-only door at the end of the aisle. Gaz turns to the right out of his view. Ghost speeds up, turning to the left. He spies across to see Gaz waiting there.

Ghost waits until the stranger is in view before pouncing on him. He grips his wrist pulling his arm up to the top of his back. Before he has time to react Ghost pushes him through the staff only door and up against the wall. Gaz hits the lock on the door coming over to help Ghost wrestling with the man.

“Fucking hell!” he calls, gritting his teeth as Gaz pats him down. He pulls a pistol off his hip unloading it.

“You a cop?” Gaz asks. He doesn’t reply, just grunts uncomfortably as Ghost keeps him pressed up against the wall.

“Concealed carry, pretty illegal. What are you doing following us?” Gaz asks, pocketing the mag. Ghost lets out a sigh. This guy’s not going to talk, or not easily at least.

“American?” Ghost asks him looking for a reaction on his face. He presses his lips together.

“Shit, he’s a fucking Shadow,” Gaz says holding a badge up. Ghost sighs. Price had intel from Laswell that Shadows had crossed the border. Price said it wasn’t a problem, Graves would have no idea where the safehouse was, it’s a Canadian special force’s house. At least that was the theory. Guess he was wrong.

“Bit far from home. Did Graves send you up here?” Ghost asks. The man scoffs. Ghost tuts. They don’t need to get anymore info from him. They need to get back to Price and leave. Get out of Canada and up to Scotland where it’s safe. They have clearly outstayed their welcome.

Gaz goes over to a room labelled maintenance, he comes back out almost as quickly as he disappeared. He holds the black zipties up so Ghost can see. He nods pulling the man off the wall and over to the room.

It’s a small maintenance cupboard filled with cleaning supplies and various tools. Ghost holds him as Gaz ties his ankles and wrists.

“You know they’re not after you right?” he says eventually.

“Talking’s not going to get you anywhere,” Ghost says through gritted teeth as he kicks the black of his knees forcing him to yelp in pain and drop to the floor.

“Didn’t take long for Graves to team up with Shepherd again,” Gaz scoffs under his breath as he ties the guy up to a pipe running up the wall.

“Match made in heaven,” Ghost says, finally letting go and standing up straight.

“She’s worth more dead than she is alive now that Professor Hale is dead,” he calls as Ghost goes to open the door to leave.

“How’d you figure that?” Gaz asks. Ghost almost wants to turn around and tell him to ignore what he’s saying. He’s most likely just doing this to mess with them, or worse, to stall. They need to leave.

“That’s what the brief said,” he says.

Shit. There’s a hit out for you, that’s why there’s only one Shadow here.

“What brief?” Gaz asks.

“Gaz, let’s go,” Ghost orders opening the door. Gaz nods, following him, picking up a wet floor sign before closing the door behind him. Ghost leads him out back into the store in silence.

“Clean up in aisle 9?” Gaz chuckles as he puts the sign down in the middle of the aisle.

“Christ you’re worse than Johnny,” Simon sighs, shaking his head. “C’mon we need to get out of here.”

You hear commotion in the flat. Something feels wrong, the energy is different. You can hear low murmurs, hushed voices. Hairs stand up on the back of your neck and you sit up in bed.

Johnny walks through the door. You freeze. He seems tense as he walks over to you. You pull your legs up to your chest as he strides over, sitting down on the bed. He reaches over and turns the light on, but it just makes the expression on his face look darker.

You can smell his worry in the air. There’s something else too. Fear? Anger? You can’t tell.

“Hey,” he says, putting something down on the bedside table. It’s a little bottle with clear liquid in it. You don’t know what it is. You look back at him frowning.

“We’re leaving now,” he says. Panic rises in you. You don’t want to leave.

“You said we were leaving later tonight.” You’re trying not to get upset, but a lump forms in your throat. It doesn’t go away as tears threaten to spill over.

“I know but something came up so we’re leaving now,” he says. You blink at him letting the first few drops roll down your cheeks.

“I don’t want to go,” you let out the cry that’s been stuck in your throat.

“I know.”

“It’s like I'm leaving her behind,” you sob, wiping your tears. His hand comes to your chin pulling your head up to look at him. He smiles at you, his head tipped to the side.

His hand falls down to the centre of your chest and he presses gently. “She’ll always be here with you. The memories you have of her will never go away.” You can smell his sincerity in the air. It’s not helping though. You let out a little smile, sniffling, you look over at the vial on the bedside table.

“What is it?” you ask.

Johnny leans over taking it in his hand.

“It’s a sedative. We’ve got a long trip. Thought maybe it would be easier. It’s a lot of travelling in confined spaces. I know you’re still in pain,” he says, rolling the vial round in his hand.

“I don’t want—” You look up at him, the sentence catching in your throat.

“I know but I think it will help. You won’t have to worry about anything. You just fall asleep and wake up in the UK, skip the whole 11 hour plane ride,” Johnny says. 11 hours on a plane sounds horrible right now. 11 hours on a plane confined in a small space with John sounds even worse.

Maybe it would be better for all of them if they just leave you behind.

“Will it hurt?” you ask. You already ache. You’re sick of being in pain. He shakes his head. Maybe a good long nap would be nice. A long nap where you’ll wake up thousands of miles away and still surrounded by people who let you down.

“Will you be there?” you ask, looking in Johnny’s eyes. He smiles nodding at you pressing his forehead against yours.

“Every second,” he says. You let out another breath, closing your eyes.

“What would Dr. Piper do?” you whisper to yourself. Johnny pulls his head back, his hand coming to your face, his thumb rubbing your cheek. You really don’t want to leave, but maybe this way it would be less painful this way.

Johnny gets up, and the room suddenly feels cold. You can hear more voices now. Simon and Kyle must be back. John’s voice is low, you can hear him giving commands. There’s a knock at the door, and Johnny goes over to take it. You don’t listen to their conversation looking down at your hands and picking at the worn skin.

It’s becoming a bad habit, your fingertips rough with hard and worn skin. You don’t bother listening to who it is. It's probably John. Johnny comes back to the room. It feels like he’s coming to give you the worst news ever. Worse than Dr. Piper being dead.

Johnny smiles at you, as he comes to sit back down on the bed. You reach over taking Dr. Pipers scarf in your hands. She’d want you to be safe, she would want you to be happy.

She’d want you to be brave. You have to be brave.

“Where are we going?” you ask, your words slurred as Johnny carries you into the back of a car placing you against Kyle who pulls your seatbelt on.

“We’re going on holiday,” he says, pushing a strand of hair behind your ear, and getting in beside you.

“It’s going to be okay,” Kyle says, pulling your head down onto his shoulder. John closes the door walking over to the front passenger seat. Simon is driving, his focus stuck on the road ahead. John looks back at you as Kyle rubs your thigh. You’re feeling really sleepy, your body heavy as Simon starts to drive. You try to stay awake for as long as you can, but the motion of the car and the smell of beta in the air lulls you to sleep.

“I think she’s out,” Kyle says a few minutes later. Simon sighs looking over at John.

“How long will it last?” Johnny asks.

“A few hours. It should be worn off by the time we land in the UK,” John says. His voice is level as he looks over at Simon. The short drive to the airport goes in silence with John’s eyes constantly looking up in the rearview mirror. You're sleeping up against Kyle. He can smell their scent strongly in the air. Yours too. Strawberries, and mint.

He’s come to associate mint with sadness.

When they make it to the airport they drive straight through to the waiting military cargo plane. John had to pull an unbelievable amount of strings to get on this transport without anyone asking questions. Not to mention having to bully the commander into leaving early. He was going to owe him big time.

He managed to get another General in the UK to sign off on their leave for a month at least. The plan was to lay low and see what came out of the investigation in America. Last he had heard from Laswell there wasn’t much they could do since technically the omega doesn’t exist. They were going over the rubble of the ruined mansion. It could take weeks. The DOD have taken a step back not wanting to be affiliated with Professor Hale and the crimes he’s being accused of.

But now Shadow Company is after you. Laswell managed to find the bounty. As far as they’re aware though, Shepherd knows nothing about it and Hale is dead. Maybe there’s someone new after you, people who want to take over Hale’s work. Dr. Montgomery didn’t round up every person who used to work for him. There are still others out there.

They managed to track them down to Canada, they could easily track them to the UK. Johnny’s house is safe, and they can defend it if they need to. Johnny keeps enough of an arsenal to supply a small army in the basement. They’re going to be fine. Hopefully when they get there he can let his guard down a little, try and relax.

The car drives up into the back of the plane. There are a few soldiers mulling around, some of whom will be travelling back with them. John doesn’t trust any of them. He barely trusts the commander who chartered the flight in the first place.

“In the boot there’s some blankets,” John says, turning back to look at you still with your face pressed up against Kyle’s shoulder. Johnny is reaching over into the back pulling them up. Simon and John get out of the car. Simon comes round opening the door for Johnny who scoots out. Kyle moves you into Johnny’s arms and he lifts you up.

Simon reaches over, taking the blankets and draping them over you. He looks at Johnny as he pulls the blankets right up under your chin. Your head rests against his chest as you’re carried through to the extra jump seats. Johnny lowers you down into the middle seat as Kyle and Simon wrap the blankets around you.

Johnny gets in first taking the window seat and Kyle sits on the other side of you. You slump against Kyle as Johnny moves over you, re-adjusting the blankets and placing the pillow under your head. John walks through the doors last. He stops in the aisle looking over at you as Johnny attaches your seatbelt.

It hurts him he had to do this. You look so peaceful leaning against Kyle. He wishes it was different. He has no idea if or when you’ll forgive him but he’ll keep trying. He wants to reach out and hold you, pull you against him and tell you everything is going to be okay.

That's supposed to be his job, to take care of you and the pack. Things are going to be different now. He’s going to step up. Things are going to change.

He can’t stand seeing you like this and knowing that he was the one who hurt you.

“She’s making progress, Cap, she just needs time. We all do,” Kyle says. John smiles at him. He knows he’s trying to make him feel better. He puts his hand on his shoulder and squeezes it nodding at him. He lets out a sigh going to sit in the adjacent aisle with Simon.

Simon hands him a tablet. More paperwork, more news from Laswell. Probably nothing good. He can’t help looking back over at you. He can just about see your body pressed up against Kyle as the betas fuss over you.

The door opens and soldiers funnel in, they take seats, some of them clocking you as they do, muttering under their breath like school boys. It makes John uncomfortable. He closes the tablet down, putting it in the pocket of the seat in front of him.

“Who's the chick?” John hears one of them chuckle. He ignores it, sighing and attaching his seatbelt. He can’t let them get to him, he closes his eyes. 9 hours couldn’t go any slower.

“Hey!” an unfamiliar American voice calls angrily.

“Keep yer comments to yourself, yeah?” That’s Soap.

“MacTavish,” John says, looking over at them. One of the soldiers is looking back over the seats at Soap gripping the chair.

“He started it, Cap,” Soap protests.

“I don’t care,” he says, sighing. The other soldier sits back down. You murmur, scooting up closer to Kyle, pulling your legs up onto the chair. John moves his eyes over to you as Kyle moves so you’re more comfortable.

John sighs, he wants to be with you so badly it hurts, every fibre in his body is screaming for him to be near you. You’re knocked out, you wouldn’t know. He stops himself. He needs to respect your space. He needs to let you come to him when you’re ready.

From now on he’s going to do a better job at protecting you and taking care of the pack.

“Want me to move her?” Simon asks. John shakes his head.

“I’m going to take a nap, wake me up if we’re crashing or Soap’s trying to rip someone's head off.” He leans back, pulling his hat over his face. It was going to be a long flight.

Simon didn’t wake him until they were about to land. You were already starting to stir. You started mumbling and drooling over Kyle as he tried to keep you calm. The scent of both the betas filled up the small space they’re confined in.

You grumbled as they tried moving you when the plane landed.

“C’mon lass,” Johnny encouraged you to lean against Kyle so he could rearrange your blankets. John watched them almost fighting with you, your eyes fluttering open now and then. It looks like you’re searching for something. The other soldiers leave first before John stands up heading out to the cargo hold with Simon following behind him.

He needs to clear his head. Simon should have woken him earlier.

“You good?” Simon asks him as they make it to the car. He nods, getting in the front passenger seat. It’s not long before he sees Kyle coming with you in his arms. You have a sick bag in your hands. It makes him tense as they open the car door.

“She threw up,” Johnny says as he gets in first. John sighs. This is his fault. Now you’re sick and they still have another flight, plus a few hours drive. You whine as Kyle places you up against Johnny.

“Alpha?” You whimper, reaching out and gripping onto Johnny. It makes the hairs stand up on the back of John’s neck. You’re crying for him. He grips his seatbelt.

“Got any water?” Johnny asks. Kyle passes him his canteen. Johnny presses it up to your lips but you moan turning your head away.

“C’mon love you’ve got to drink something. It will make you feel better,” Johnny says, chasing your lips. You sigh, opening your eyes and taking sips from the canteen. “Good girl, there ya go.”

“Maybe we should just drive up?” Simon asks as he starts the engine.

“It’s a 10 hour drive. Even when we land in Edinburgh, it’s another 4 hours on the road,” John sighs. The car backs out of the plane as they make the quick drive to another cargo plane. John looks back at you, your eyes closed again leaning up against Johnny.

…

You don’t wake again until they’ve landed in Scotland. Even then it's a slur of murmuring and quiet sobs.

Maybe this was a bad idea, John thinks after a stop off at a petrol station where you vomit again. This time it brings tears and shaking.

“Cold,” you whisper, your lip quivering as Kyle is trying to get you to drink some more water. He gives up in the end, sighing as you sleepily blink up at him. He hums, pulling the fluffy blue blanket up and around you tighter, shushing you.

John gets out of the car looking in the building where Johnny and Simon are paying for the petrol. It’s cold, it's late. He wants nothing more than to just crawl into bed with you in his arms. He breathes in the frigid Scottish air as he sees Johnny and Simon walk over to the car.

Johnny’s beaming as he walks over with a coffee in his hands. Of course he is; he’s home. He gets in the back as Simon walks over to him.

“Get some rest, I can drive,” John says.

“I’m good,” Simon says. John scoffs.

“I know you are but I slept on the plane, let me drive.”

“It’s not a problem,” Simon says and before John can stop him he’s walking back around the car to the driver's seat. John sighs getting in the car.

“Half way then we switch,” he says as he puts his seatbelt on. He looks in the back. Your eyes are glossy, your cheeks wet. You meet his eyes. It’s the first time you’ve really looked at him in what feels like forever. A smile tugs on his lips. You’re looking at him with your unfocused gaze.

You smile at him, a soft smile, the type that makes his heart flutter and goosebumps rise up the back of his neck. It’s bittersweet since you’re still zoned out. Before he knows it your smile is gone and your eyes are drooping closed again. He sighs, turning back to look out down the road, the thick foliage of the Scottish highlands coming into view.

For the greater good.

You don’t remember much of the drive. Every time you opened your eyes it made your head spin. All you could see was the bright headlights of the car against the trees. It reminded you of trying to run from your pack.

Kyle’s arm around you is warm, his grip soft as he holds you against him. It feels like you’re driving for hours. Sometimes you try to focus on the conversation between Simon and John but you end up drowning them out. The winding roads sway you to sleep as you dribble over Kyle’s shoulder. He doesn’t seem to mind though.

“Hey, we’re here,” Kyle says as he gently shakes your shoulder. You sit up, stiff as you stretch looking round the car. You’re tired, cold and shivering as Kyle opens the door getting out. You unclip your belt scooting across to the open door.

“Simon’s going to get the fire started,” he says as he leads you inside. The house is old, but big you walk in looking down the hall that has indoor windows looking through to the dining room. The lights are low. The whole place has a cosy feel to it. You just wish it wasn’t so cold.

You let Kyle lead you through to the living room. There’s a plush sofa, a TV, record player and a book shelf. You see Simon bent down in front of the fire. You don’t see John or Johnny anywhere. The place smells like damp wood, but you can smell the embers of the fire starting as you look round the room.

“This wood’s wet. It’s not gonna take,” Simon says, standing back up. You look over at smoke coming out into the room.

“It's fine, it's late anyway. I think we could all use a good night's rest,” Kyle says. You nod as he heads out the room back into the hallway. You turn back to look at Simon taking gloves off and throwing them into the pile of logs. You can see John and Johnny in the kitchen.

“C’mon you can have the first pick of the rooms,” Kyle says, wrapping his arm around you as he leads you upstairs. Upstairs feels warmer but not by much. You stand in the hall looking around. All the doors are cracked open and you walk up to one. There’s two beds inside. You move to the room next to it, the same.

“What about here?” Kyle asks, smiling pushing a door open. You go over to see what you assume is the master bedroom. It’s beautiful with a four poster bed, a fireplace and a chaise longue. It’s dark but you can see the windows look out towards the woods. You smile stepping inside. It’s lovely. You feel guilt rise in you.

“It’s John’s room,” you say, turning to leave. Kyle shrugs from the doorway.

“It’s no one’s room,” he replies.

John gets the biggest room because he’s the Captain. Or maybe Johnny will take it, it’s his house after all. You walk over to another door, this room is smaller than the rest only big enough for a single bed and a rocking chair. You go in and look out the window.

It looks out over the front of the house and you can see Simon and Johnny bringing bags out of the car. The latches on the window look old, brass and heavy as you click it open. Cold air immediately blows into the room. You can open the windows as wide as you want, not like the windows on the base.

You take in a deep breath and go to sit down on the bed. There's a small bedside table with a lamp but the only light coming in the room right now is from the outdoor lights.

“Like it?” Kyle asks from the doorway. You look up at him nodding. He moves out the way as you hear commotion in the hall. Johnny walks in the room hitting the main light as he comes in.

“Hey lass, how are you feeling?” he asks, putting a bag down.

“Tired,” you say. You’re not really in the mood for a whole conversation. He hums, coming over to run his hand over your head, and you look up at him.

“It’s been a long day. You should sleep, you'll feel better tomorrow,” he says, his thumb brushing your cheek. You feel bad. You’ve been sleeping the whole way, you don’t understand why you’re so tired. Johnny turns around closing the window. “You can put it on a latch if you want some fresh air,” he says, moving out of the way so you can see.

“Thank you,” you nod at him. He smiles, leaving the room.

“If you need anything you know where to find us,” Kyle says, pulling the door closed, but not fully. They always leave a gap. You look over at the window, and you can see your reflection. Your braid is almost completely pulled out. You run your hands over it pulling on the hair tie at the bottom letting it fall apart.

You run your fingers through it pulling it apart before walking over to your bag unzipping it. It’s your clothes, mostly PJ’s. Dr. Piper's scarf is sitting on the top. You take it out, bringing it up to your nose. The scent is fading. It will eventually be gone. Scents don’t last forever.

You stand up taking the deepest breath you can. You can smell beta, soap, clean sheets straight out of the dryer. It’s a comforting smell, you miss it. You get up rubbing the back of your neck. You turn the light off pulling your clothes off so you’re in your underwear and climb into the bed.

It’s cold and you find yourself pulling your legs up to your chest. You look out the open window. You hear a door close and the outdoor lights are turned off. You let your eyes adjust to the dark. You look up. You can see the moon. It’s big and full, lighting up the room. You can’t remember the last time you saw the moon, never mind this full.

You smile bringing her scarf up to your nose. Dr. Piper would love to see this. A star filled sky. Maybe if there is a heaven, she’s there looking down at you. You don’t think you believe in heaven, it makes you think of the house on the hill, with the pies and the lake. The smell of caramelised apples and cinnamon in the air. The summer breeze and the sky burnt orange and red, the whole place surrounded by trees. That's your heaven. That’s where Dr. Piper is waiting for you.

It’s still your happy place. You can still go there when you need to, and Dr. Piper is there. She’ll always be there.

Dividers by Plum98 & gild-ui Beta reader and editor - rememberwren

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starberry-cupcake · 2 days ago

Text

WE'RE DONE WITH BOOK 2!!! THIS IS IT!!! Time for one last recap for Harrowcita ♥

previously, in harrowcita del 9:

this happened

CHAPTER 52

last we've seen of Team Gideon (this is Team Gideon, Team Harrow is coming and going from the river rn), mercygirl had decimated dr reverend emperor john

popped him like a piñata

mercygirl and augustine start talking about how everything's gonna go directly to shit now without the guy, since the houses existed because of him, etc.

they have some sort of hope on finding somewhere they can go stay at, maybe

they hug and augustine says something like he wants to be buried beside her, so they can hate each other eternally

I love what they've got going on tbh they're soulmates in hate, new form of eternal bond just dropped

gideon the first is about to tell them something, but they're interrupted by light

gideon starts describing that red dust becomes blood and then becomes body things and I'm like "nonononononono"

BUT I'M NOT THAT LUCKY

GUESS WHO'S BACK

DOCTOR REVEREND EMPEROR JOHN IS NOT DEAD

LPM [in south american spanish]

packing back all my celebratory party supplies

so he immediately murders mercygirl upon returning

rip girl, you really tried and that's more than I can say for a lot of people

who are in this room rn

emperor asshat takes mercy's robe from her body and puts it on

he says "hope the sixth house didn't get cooked in the flare"

"I never like cleaning house all at once, but it seems as though I have to, don't I ?"

so...is this a frequent thing? killing all your lyctors? replacing them with others by making them slurp their cavaliers once in a while? acting like there's no other way around it?

the emperor does that asshole thing

he starts asking them if they'll be loyal to him and, if they say no, he's gonna kill them

all very democratic and whatnot

apparently beasts can't kill him and he was acting afraid, in case you needed more reasons to hate him and whatnot

he calls gideon the first "gideon episode one", so that's also a genetic trait, aside from the eyes

gideon the first says he's gonna be loyal

gideon the first is taking things very calmly, but we'll see what's going on with that in a sec

also, the emperor asked gideon the first to kill harrow

because he's still buying numbers for the ass-kicking raffle I've got going on

it isn't at all a surprise, not just because another addition to the silver platter of bullshit he has done, at this point, doesn't really change much, but also because he was not doing anything about the harrow-aimed violence at any point, so

gideon (ours) goes "go to hell, pops"

he's bummed about gideon the first "killing" wake and is going to spare gideon's life, even if she doesn't want to be loyal to him

yandere twin pledges loyalty (we'll come back to this later)

and augustine goes "fuck you, john"

those aren't his words but that's what I heard in my head when I read it

then, the entire emperor's bolthole starts tilting to the side and in goes the whole thing into the river

at this point, I was remembering that the emperor mentioned there was a layer in the river, in the cylinder schematics mercygirl had drawn, in which he was powerless

so I was hoping and wishing for this to be the plan

gideon the first takes our gideon, trying to save her from the whole river situation, since she isn't a necro and there's not much she can do about it

so, since the emperor's bolthole went straight into the river, they've entered with their whole body, soul and etc.

fully dressed in flesh

gideon the first goes "wish he'd given me the packet"

???????

augustine and the emperor are wrestling homoerotically into the river

with yandere twin trailing behind them

so gideon asks gideon Sr to do something, since he's a necromancer

and gideon Sr says he isn't actually gideon Sr....

IT'S PYRRHA THE CAVALIER

turns out gideon Sr died in the fight against the beast

battle he was fighting with "mad sweetheart matthias"

♥

pyrrha has been living in gideon Sr this whole time, kinda like gideon and harrow, but with less finesse

and pyrrha ALSO had an affair with wake using gideon Sr's body

but there's no time to unpack the insane amount of luggage gideon is gaining from this whole encounter with her entire family tree

because augustine's plan was indeed to throw the emperor into the bit of river he can't defend himself in

but the entrance looks a bit like this thing from inuyasha, only that's a lot bigger

augustine and the emperor are still homoerotically pulling each other on their way down to the mouth, that's extending tongues to lick at them

it's probably a familiar scenario for them, only in a bigger scale

gideon and pyrrha are trying to decide if they wanna die by a bullet, by this whole thing that's going on in here or in the river

according to pyrrha, gideon's mom would have taken the bullet

but not gideon

gideon is gonna see this thing through, dammit

she's also having an existential crisis the size of the emperor's bolthole because life was simple before, it was just harrow and the dusty ninth, and now there's a family tree, she's a child of multiple divorces and she was born to blow up

so, gideon sees that yandere twin is close to augustine and dr rev emperor john, which means she can probably help augustine out and push the emperor in

BUT THAT'S NOT WHAT SHE DOES, NO

NO NO NO NO

WHAT SHE DOES

IS TO BE THE WORST

OF COURSE, YOU VALIDATION-SEEKING ASSHOLE, OF COURSE YOU'RE GONNA DO THAT

"uwu you're the emperor's favorite, harry" "at least augustine pays attention to me, harry" "the emperor loves you, harry" "you have it easy because you're the emperor's pet, harry"

GET OUT OF MY FACE YOU TRAITOROUS THIRD HOUSE ATTENTION-SEEKING TIM-BURTON-BLONDE-AND-PALE LEAD

YOU AND CHAD CAN GO STRAIGHT TO THE FANG-FILLED MOUTH OF HELL

I'M FUMING

I'M GONNA BITE HER ARM OFF AND RIP IT FROM HER BODY ALL OVER AGAIN

AND I'M GONNA SPIT IT RIGHT AT THE EMPEROR'S FACE

ANYWAY, BACK TO THE RECAP

gideon is being very poetic about harrow in what she thinks might be the last moments of her life

again

"at the end of everything, if it was going to be you and me, layered over each other as we always were"

♥

but in comes ice cube barbie to...save the day?????

idk, at this point

people's intentions are blurry

"your bullshit dead girlfriend had come to claim you"

gideon says she speaks "in the wrong voice twice removed" and that she's trying to do CPR on her

to some extent, because her sternum is shattered, apparently

or harrow's, I guess

so, who knows what's gonna come out of this

CHAPTER 53

this one happens half an hour before the other stuff

for the timeline that I'm still somewhat keeping, hanging by a thread, as is my sanity

Team Harrow is currently just consisting of harrowcita, the reverend kitten, and real!dulcinea

the super important info real!dulcinea said she needed to tell harrow is that what's using harrow's body isn't a spirit or a revenant

her body isn't being puppeted, something is moving it around and it isn't a fragment or a ghost

because it doesn't feel like awake will the real slim shady please stand up

is this gideon???? does it mean gideon is more than a ghost?????

real!dulcinea is like "idk what you can do with that info but that's not up to me anymore, bye~"

and harrow goes "there's a difference between keeping a shred of dance card and saving the last dance"

IS THIS HOPE???? ARE WE HANGING ONTO HOPE????

I SURE AM

so, into the river goes harrow

(if you wanna reblog onto better things harrow, this is the post)

there's the corridor from the last time

and she ends up in the locked tomb

always back to the tomb

wonder why the series is called that

but there's nobody in the actual tomb

chains are broken and there's the two-handed sword that the sleeper waker slasher awake love the way you lie had with her

harrow goes to mimir in the tomb

but in she finds...

P*RN

apparently it's a gideon originally imagined piece of high quality fifth house erotica

of course it is

EPILOGUE

six months after the "emperor's murder"

I DON'T THINK HE'S DEAD THOUGH

YANDERE TWIN DECIDED TO RUIN THINGS BECAUSE SHE CAN'T DEAL WITH AUTHORITY REJECTION OR WHATEVER

DON'T MAKE ME GET INTO THIS AGAIN

MY BLOOD PRESSURE CAN'T TAKE IT

sixth house skull though, we love to see that

so there's a "she"

who is being taken care of by three people

one is teaching her how to do necromancy, another how to use a sword and another is taking care of her

maiden, mother and crone

my first bet was judith, regina george twin and camilla

undetermined, though

idk why judith would be helpful, but those are three people we know of that were alive and kickin'

they're eating nice food but when a vendor makes a comment about how "she" should have been hurt by the hot food and she wasn't, they decide to ghost that vendor forever

they're somewhere around soldiers and gunfights

this "she" perspective then starts waxing poetic about the person who takes care of her

and asks "have you worked out who I am?"

and CAMILLA answers "not yet"

WHAT A HOPEFUL THING TO END WITH

THE BOOK ENDS WITH A LIE, THOUGH????

"the tomb will open in alecto the ninth"

gonna have to wait a whole other book for the tomb to open, I guess

harrow's taking a long nap

she deserves it

@lady-harrowhark told me the situation of the book releases when I mentioned how I thought this was a trilogy that had ended and she had to give the "oh, sweet summer child" explanation

who the fuck is nona though

is this "she" nona? maybe it is

she's smiling in the cover, which is already an oddity, but if she's been taking care of by camilla, that's a good reason to smile forever

I NEED TO STOP THEORIZING

ANYWAY, this is it for Harrowcita Del Nueve!!!! The adventure continues, though, because the hiatus I went in allowed me to get Nona beforehand and I already have a cute bookmark for her that my sister gifted me. See you in the next one!!!!

#luly reacts to tlt #harrow the ninth #harrow the ninth spoilers #gif cw #tlt spoilers #long post

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theagstd · 9 hours ago

Text

One Night Stand ; 40

➥ rundown ; as if the unexpected twist of a one-night stand turning out to be your CEO boss wasn't surreal enough, the situation takes a more challenging turn when both of you discover that you're expecting his child.

→ genre ; enemies to lovers | CEO au | pregnancy trope | slowburn

→ Jungkook x y/n

→ contains smut, fluff and angst

→ Chapter forty ; wc | 4.1k

primarily on Wattpad

index ⇢ next chapter

the visit to your parents is in less than a day and you're busy packing up a few clothes for the weekend trip to Toronto. you'd be lying if you're not nervous because you are. you can feel it in your bones and veins, the anxiety is truly not funny.

Jungkook had been busy with work, he'd been coming home late, very late in fact. he would text you to not stay up for him, to have your dinner take your pills and get to bed. after you spent the first night in his room, he never wanted you to leave, even if you tell him that it's okay, that you're comfortable in your room.

he was not having it, he needed to come back home and see you sleeping on his bed, under his covers. It's 11:15 PM, and he still hasn't come home. You decide to finish packing the last of your clothes before calling it a night, leaving a few items to tuck into your carry-on later. Your phone lights up with a message from your mother:

*"I can't wait to see you, Y/N!"*

Letting out a breath you didn't realize you were holding, you toss the phone aside and sit on the edge of the bed. Your hand instinctively rubs your growing bump as you gaze down at it, worry swirling in your mind—for yourself and the little one. Your parents are open-minded, but will they accept that you're carrying the child of a man they've never heard of? Especially when you were raised to believe that marriage should come before pregnancy.

They're not overly religious, but those fundamental beliefs were deeply instilled in you, and this was one of them. you don't want to disappoint them but you also can't change anything now. What's done is done and now you've accepted your life and the child you carry.

this is gonna be your life now. After zipping the suitcase closed, you push it aside, your mind feeling heavy yet resigned. You take the pills, washing them down with a glass of water, before turning off the lights and sliding beneath the duvet. The view from his windows catches your gaze, a mix of city lights and darkness, as your eyes grow heavy, you feel the bed dip.

you turn to look over your shoulder and see Jungkook gazing at you with his doe eyes. "did I disturb you?" he whispers and you shake your head as you carefully turn to face him. It's been four nights since you last saw him before drifting off to sleep, so the feeling of him beside you instead of an empty bed brings a sense of quiet relief.

he gets closer to you and pulls you towards him. You notice the exhaustion etched in his droopy eyes. "How was work today?" you ask softly, your fingers tracing gentle, imaginary circles on his chest. His gaze stays fixed on your face, filled with a longing that tugs at your heart. He's missed you all day, and seeing you asleep when he got home only deepened his frustration.

"Okay, stressed out," he finally replies with a heavy sigh. you figure that he doesn't really wanna talk about it so you decide not to press further. "are you sure that you're okay to fly tomorrow? We can go when you're free.." you say in a whisper. he's trapped in work and flying so far is only adding to his stress that you think he doesn't need.

he shakes his head and smiles softly. "Don't worry about it, baby." he speaks as he reaches out to take your hand in his, he missed the warmth of it so much. "I'm just waiting to escape this hellhole with you, even if it's just for a weekend," he says, his voice tired but soft. You nod with a small smile, liking the idea of spending time alone with him too, even though you're going to see your parents and not on some vacation.

"It'll be okay," you murmur, cupping his face as he leans in to kiss you gently. "How's... she doing today?" he asks, glancing at your bump. You grab his hand and place it there with a smile. "She's been kicking me all day, craving crackers and cheese. Quiet now, though—probably asleep." He chuckles, running his hand over your belly, his touch warm and careful.

He leans closer, nuzzling into your neck, and you let your fingers trail through his hair and down his stiff shoulders. "You're so tense," you say, frowning a little. "Want me to give you a massage?" "Don't worry about me, baby. I'm fine," he says, but you whine a little, determined to help him relax. He sighs, giving you a small grin as he finally gives in.

"Alright, just for a few minutes. do not want you to be tired" he whispers as he moves closer to you. "i haven't done anything Jungkook, come on turn around." he sleeps on his stomach as you sit up and turn to his side so you can give him some relief. he moans at the feeling of your fingers working down his neck and shoulders. he'd been sitting straight for hours as he worked on papers and typing. it feels so good when your fingers press against his skin, it's like magic.

his pain fades away the more you touch him and if he had the energy he would kiss you and thank you a hundred times but he's too tired to lift his finger. you smile at the sounds that leave his lips. As you continue your massage, your thoughts drift to him.

He does so much for you—not just tending to your basic needs but going out of his way to satisfy your cravings, no matter what they are. Even if he comes home late and you're already asleep, you always wake up to find the food you were craving, which makes your day. While Jungkook might not be actively engaging with the baby yet, the effort he puts into trying warms your heart and makes you genuinely happy.

you get so lost in your thoughts that you don't hear him call out your name. "Baby?" he repeats and you hum as a reply. "come here." He mumbles softly, eyes barely open as he struggles to stay awake. "Yes?" you prompt, leaning closer to his face. Without warning, he pulls you down for a quick peck, catching you off guard and making your heart flutter.

"What was that for?" you ask with a chuckle, the warmth of the moment lingers. His head drops back onto the pillow, and he lets out a contented groan as the tension in his muscles melts away. "Just... wanted to thank you before I fall asleep," he mumbles into the pillow. You snigger as you let your fingers run through his hair.

He loves loves loves it when you touch his hair. It scratches some part of his brain and spine, it sends chills down it and he smiles as he drifts off to sleep. You notice that he passed out so you lay back down beside him, you tuck your hand under your cheek and watch him. His soft cheek rests against the pillow, his lips slightly parted, with the tips of his hair brushing over his forehead. It's a sight that you enjoy the most.

While his neatly oiled and parted hair has a charm that steals your heart every morning, there's something entirely different about him like this. His loose hair and comfortable, homely attire are so peaceful and endearing, it's the Jungkook that you fell for. You don't realize when your eyes close while watching him, but it does and you find yourself waking up in the afternoon to an empty cold bed.

Jungkook wraps up his day early, delegating tasks to his team before leaving the building. The flight is at 8 PM, and he still needs to pack. He'd left for work earlier than usual, determined to clear his emails and meetings so that nothing would interrupt the weekend trip to your parent's place. Though he has no idea what to expect, he's made sure not to bring any of his workload along. Still, nerves simmer under the surface.

He's never met your parents before, though he's heard plenty about them from you—they seem warm and family-oriented. But to them, he's still a stranger. He's nothing more than someone in your life, without a defined title or role, and that thought terrifies him more than he's willing to admit. he'd always told you to stop overthinking and to calm down but right now, he needs to follow his own words yet he doesn't.

he picks up a few items on his way back home including the crackers that you spoke about late at night, even through his drowsiness, he mentally notes the little things you say, despite his heavy eyelids and the pull of sleep, his attention lingers on you, catching every word you say. he isn't greeted by you as he enters, he walks upstairs and passes by your room only to see you staring at your clothes that have been pressed by the staff.

he frowns and knocks on your door before he walks inside. you tear your gaze to look at him, he notices the worry on your face and feels his heart heavy. "nervous again?" He asks, and you nod, a pout forming on your lips. He understands how you feel—he's anxious too—but he knows nothing compares to the nerves you're dealing with.

After all, imagine meeting your parents after a few years, and then finding out you're pregnant with a child from a man they don't know, who isn't even married to you. Just thinking about it is enough to make anyone terrified. you exhale deeply as he holds your hand and looks at you. "I'm...nervous too. scared. but we both can face this, okay?"

he attempts to help you relax and it works for the time being after he places a kiss on your forehead. "gonna pack my stuff." "I'll help!" You follow him to his room to help him pack for the weekend. The two of you are quiet, your minds filled with unspoken words and thoughts, yet neither of you says a thing. Jungkook looked for a few hotels he could book for the nights, just in case your parents don't approve of him staying with you.

He doesn't mention it to you, though—he doesn't want to add to your worries. he didn't have much to pack so the both of you walked downstairs to have a snack before you left. he passed the crackers to you and a small smile lit up your face. He knows you're not going to speak with the excitement you usually have because your anxiety is taking over your mind, but that's okay. As long as you don't panic, he's fine.

Jungkook sips his latte while gently patting Bam's head. You're unusually quiet, and even though you know you can tell him anything, the words just don't come. You dip another cracker into the cream cheese and munch on it, having already eaten about 11, even though it hasn't been too long since lunch. You devour the crackers as if they might disappear. Jungkook notices but says nothing, holding back a smile as he watches you savor the snack.

He changes into a black Calvin Klein denim jacket and jeans, pairing them with a white T-shirt. You slip into a comfy, oversized sweater and sweatpants. Knowing how quickly you get cold—especially after the Paris flight—he grabs one of his thick jackets for you. He remembers how rude he was when you took your time coming downstairs earlier, and the memory makes him feel bad. This time, he waits patiently by your side so you both can walk down together.

"I'll carry that for you," he offers, nodding toward your hand luggage. You shake your head, insisting it's not heavy. He gives you a stern look, and you sigh, pouting as you hand it over to him. He ends up carrying both his backpack and your bowling bag without a second thought. The driver loads your luggage while Jungkook holds the door open for you, letting you take your time as you reach for his hand for support.

Your bump is big, and while this isn't the ideal time to travel, it feels like the best moment—things will only get harder in the later weeks. He sits beside you, close—too close—unlike last time. he watches you the whole ride, his eyes don't leave your figure, you're his view, and the streets aren't as beautiful as you.

the two of you remain silent, each lost in your thoughts, trying to calm your nerves. Jungkook worries about what your parents might think of him and if they'll push him away. Meanwhile, you're anxious about how they'll react when they see you pregnant on their doorstep. he wears a mask and advises you to wear one too.

The airport is a breeding ground for germs, and Jungkook doesn't want to risk you catching anything, especially with how easily you're susceptible. It's also another way to avoid the media, stopping them from taking any images without consent and invading your privacy. His hand holds yours gently as you walk side by side. Since you can't walk fast, he matches your pace, making sure you're comfortable.

Arriving about 30 minutes early, the lounge becomes the perfect spot to relax. You smile warmly at him when he chooses a quiet, private corner where there aren't many people. It gives you a chance to take off your mask and rest your swollen feet on the footrest. Jungkook brings you some desserts from the available selection. "what's all this?"

you ask. "desserts ma'am!" he says and sits in front of you as he takes your feet from the footrest and places them on his lap. "Jung-" "Have your desserts while I relieve this- swollen feet." he says and gestures to you to start eating. you smile at him. He's so caring and different from the last time you both were here at the airport.

he massages your feet gently, frowning at how big they are. it looks like someone blowing air into your feet, they look like balloons. " is this normal?" he asks while his fingers press and rub carefully. you nod with your mouth full of the sweet and tangy cherry tart. " this- looks really bad." he says worriedly. "it's fine, I've been dealing with this for months now." he hums.

"here." You hold out the tart to him, but he shakes his head, telling you he got them for you, so you should be the one to enjoy it. "One bite," he says, opening his mouth as you place the tart between his lips. He takes a bite, flakes of the pastry fall to his jacket and the jams stick to the corners of his lips. you push yourself forward, dusting off his black denim and wiping off the jam with your fingertips. "Nice, right?" you ask.

"Mm hmm," he mumbles, a small smile tugging at his lips. It's funny to him, thinking back to the last time you both were here. Back then, you didn't like the idea of him bringing you sweets, but you ate them anyway, making a big show of how delicious they were. Then you forced him to try them, despite his countless attempts to say no.

When he finally gave in and took a bite, he pretended it tasted awful, even though it didn't, just so you wouldn't get the chance to boast about it and inflate your ego. and here you both are, feeding each other tarts while he massages your feet only because you walked so far and he's worried for you. wiping off each other's faces and no rude comments and tone passed, just love and affection and more love. boarding into the flight was quite the hassle,

he made sure to let you walk inside carefully, and he requested the people behind him to wait until you got to your seat but some of them were arrogant and didn't want to show kindness, which angered him. you whispered a few, "It's okay" "I'm fine" as you pulled Jungkook to walk with you. "fuck them" he mumbles under his breath as he adjusts the seatbelt for you to fit your bump. "calm down babe." you say and somehow that immediately eases him.

"your frown lines are gonna sit forever. relax them." you say as your finger reaches to rub it away and he chuckles as he sits beside you. he asks you if you're okay from time to time and makes sure you're all comfortable. when the flight is about to take off, you don't panic. because Jungkook is holding your hand and rubbing his thumb against the back of your hand, soothing you and taking away all your thoughts and tension.

he's freely able to hold you and touch you anytime now so he doesn't hesitate as he holds you tight when the flight takes off. telling you it's alright, I'm here. you feel so loved when he does these little things like making sure to order the easy meal for you, some extra buns and bread so you can munch on something while you watch the romance movie on the screen. you feel like you're in one, after meeting Jungkook everything feels like a movie anyway, everything he says and does just makes you fall for him harder and harder.

"you need anything?" he asks when he sees you moving around. "I wanna pee.." You whisper as you struggle to unbuckle your seatbelt. Jungkook quickly unbuckles his own and leans over to help you. "Want me to come with you?" he asks softly. You shake your head, still holding his hand as you carefully get out of your seat. After taking care of what you need to do, you walk back to your seat, and Jungkook watches you the whole time.

He waits for you to return, and somehow, that simple gesture makes something stir in your stomach. He smiles at you and asks, "All good?" You nod, and he gently places his hand on your bump, giving it a soft rub. "I'm gonna rest for a while," you say, and Jungkook quickly lowers the seat, turning it into a bed. You lay down, letting out a yawn as you pull up the blanket they offered, settling in for some much-needed rest.

He gazes at you for a while, and you're used to it by now—him simply watching you. It makes you feel safe, knowing he's there, looking at you with such quiet attention. "Good night," you whisper. He notices you pulling the blanket higher, as if it's not warm enough, so he grabs the jacket he brought and gently drapes it over you.

You sigh in contentment at his gesture, pulling the jacket tighter around you. His scent surrounds you, and it lulls you into a peaceful sleep, your body relaxing fully as you drift off. He wakes you up to have something before taking your night pills, gently feeding you because you're too sleepy.

the flight journey was comfortable and easy for you, although running to the washroom was frustrating considering how you must walk a certain distance and also wait until the person walks out, everything else was quite okay. you ask him frequent questions and speak random stuff- "How long till we land?" "did you have your meal?" "I think the guy who went to the washroom before me had done too much of an explosion."

Jungkook was always there for you, even if he dozed off, your movements would wake him up just in case you needed something or needed relief for your feet. You slept through most of the time except for your meals, while Jungkook didn't allow himself even a moment for a full rest. he had so much running through his mind like what if your parents tell you to stay with them? What is he gonna do without you? He had never felt more anxious than he did now; even the silly comedy movie couldn't draw a laugh from him, not even a faint smile.

he kept looking at you from time to time, reaching to hold your hand, as if preparing himself for the possibility of having to part ways with you, even if only for the weekend. when it was time for landing, you were awake sipping on apple juice with your eyes closed while you listened to some music. Jungkook urges you to drink quickly so he can return the cup to the flight attendant.

He adjusts your seatbelt and pulls your seat upright, noticing your silence. You haven't been looking at him or asking questions, and he can tell you're feeling uneasy. Here you both are, in Canada—your homeland. "Hey, you alright?" he whispers, his voice soft. You nod and reach for his hand just as the announcement signals it's time to land. His grip on your palm is firm and reassuring. "Remember to breathe,"

he reminds you. Following his guidance, you focus on your breath until the plane touches down safely. he helped you adjust your clothes that had ridden up your chest, placed your leftover snacks into your bag and carried it for you.

he draped his coat over your shoulders, The temperature outside was warm as Jungkook stepped off the flight, but inside the airport, you still feel a lingering chill. Your eyes wander across the familiar surroundings, and a small smile forms on your lips. It's been three years since you moved to Korea, and while not much has changed here, the sight of it still stirs something deep within you. when everything was done, he got a taxi and helped you sit in the back seat,

asking you to tell the man your address. when it leaves your lips, you then know that this is real, this is so real and a sudden weight is added to your shoulders, you even feel it in your stomach. Jungkook feels it too, so this time, both of you gaze out the window, quietly taking in the scenery. There's a gentle space between you, not because of anything, but so you both can lose yourselves in your thoughts. As you approach the familiar streets and neighborhood, you notice the streetlights flickering on, casting a soft glow.

The place hasn't changed at all, and a warmth spreads through you as you take in the sight of the small, beige houses—so simple, yet so lovely. It fills your heart with a quiet comfort, the sense of home you thought you'd left behind. the car stops in front of the ash house with a garden where a swing sits. "are we here?"

Jungkook asks softly and you give him a short nod. he opens the door for you and takes your bag with his, thanking the cab driver for taking out the luggage and for the ride. you both stand in front of your house, the house you grew up in with your loving parents. you take a deep breath, trying to control the tears that threaten to leave as you glance down at your bump. Jungkook stands beside you, waiting for you to take the move.

He notices you gulping a couple of times, your features dull and your face looking ashen even under the bright moonlight. Gently, he takes your hand in his, giving it a reassuring squeeze as he whispers, "Come on." You let out a sigh and nod quickly, moving towards the deep grey door. he helps you climb the three stairs until you both are standing in front of the door.

"I'm here, with you and for you. Don't worry, we're in this together." Jungkook whispers, his hand never leaving yours. Your fingers itch to press the doorbell, the tension thick in the air. The man beside you, trying to appear strong for your sake, hides his fear behind a composed exterior, wanting you to feel safe. But deep inside, as the seconds drag on, he's terrified.

The weight of the moment presses down on him, his heart racing with anxiety. your finger almost touches the white bell but the door opens before you can. there your mother stands before you, a smile on her face drains down as her gaze runs down your face to your bump and then to the man beside you. you gulp down the biggest stone in your throat, and Jungkook does too. "Mom-"

"What the hell?!!"

next chapter ⇢

#ask #btswritersclub #bts #jungkook #one night stand #bts fanfic #jungkook fanfic #theagstd #jeon jungkook #jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #jungkook x y/n

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pastorfutureletthembe · 3 days ago

Text

Checkmate ♚

Apparently a temporary AR (Otome) game is coming soon and the artwork for it is just breathtaking! It is also full of details I want to explore OF COURSE. My brain is doing tetris things again, oops.

Looking for a senseless meta about chess pieces? You're in the right place, come on in~

>> Chess Theme

White vs Black

The first topic is obviously the chess theme. Of course, this part is to be taken with a grain of salt since the pieces aren't correctly disposed on the board. However, the characters themselves are walking on their respective squares except for Vein (because he's all powerful and he's above your stupid rules. Probably). Notably, Liu Xiao himself seems to be leaving a white square. And if there is any meaning to it, I'd like to believe it makes a gray character out of him.

Now, what can we say about the chess pieces themselves?

White: rook, pawn, knight

Black: rook, mystery piece, king

Each character is paired with a chess piece.

The most reassuring clue to me is that a white piece has been given to Xia Fei. Which, there is a fat chance this makes an ally out of him. He might be only a Pawn ♙ for now. For those who are not familiar with chess, a Pawn can only move ahead, never back, one square at a time. It has some cool move too but it depends on the game you want to play. If the path is open, a Pawn can reach the other side of the board, turning it into a Queen ♕. If a Pawn can only move ahead in small range, a Queen literally rules over the whole board. She's quick, vicious and dangerous once she has enough space to move as she pleases. Of course, he can also be a mere Pawn, a tool to manipulate Lu Guang and Cheng Xiaoshi.

Cheng Xiaoshi and Vein both getting paired with a ♖ Rook ♜ could mean they use the same kind of power or are equivalent in some ways. Rooks have a large range, can move horizontally and vertically, ahead or back. They are better used when paired with other pieces, though, cause a lonely Rook ♖ is an easy pray. I think the main focus here is the similarity more than the piece itself. Lu Guang seems to be the one being punished and haunted, but Vein probably offered his power to Cheng Xiaoshi (or Lu Guang, according to the last Yingdu Chapter PV). My personal theory is that Vein mirrors or shadows Cheng Xiaoshi's shape because he is the source of his power. Vein's position, if there is any relevance to it, keeps Lu Guang's Knight ♘ from moving at the center, his natural and most efficient position.

Toppled King

Liu Xiao has two pieces by his side, a King ♔ and a mystery piece. The merch revealed the later to be a Bishop ♝.

Note that only amateurs tend to topple the King. It is regarded as some kind of pop culture-only approach to chess. Because of this, let's take a look a what an actual checkmate is (where we don't get to step on the vainquished).

Checkmate is any game position in chess in which a player's king is threatened with capture and there is no possible escape. In chess, the king is never actually captured. Checkmating the opponent wins the game. The player loses as soon as their king is checkmated. In formal games, it is usually considered good etiquette to resign an inevitably lost game before being checkmated. (cf. wikipedia)

If Vein, the current character we might recognize as the ultimate villain of the season, is only a Rook ♜, equivalent to Cheng Xiaoshi, who does the King ♔ represent? My personal opinion is Time, Fate itself. The song "Mastermind" supports this theory, and Lu Guang himself really is defying the natural order to save Cheng Xiaoshi, after all. It would make perfect sense. Stopping the clocks at a tournament is the sign of surrender. So basically, the game is over when one gives up and stops when the King has nowhere to go.

The character of Liu Xiao is given a lot of care in this specific artwork. He actually always stood out, since his very first appearance in the season 2 artworks, walking past Lu Guang and Cheng Xiaoshi's portray, looking away from us. Here, again, he's not interested in the audience, focuses on the photograph of what fans reckon as Lu Guang from "Dive Back in Time".

The truth is, he's playing the long game, he has no time to spare, and he regards people as puppets. There has been theories about him having a hidden agenda, independently of Vein, using/working with Li Tianchen and Li Tianxi for his plan. His intervention in "Trial Train" speaks volume of his strategic mind, "they wanted to escape but didn't realize I blocked the exit a long time ago". Also, one hundred years wouldn't be enough to escape.

This merciless sharpness makes the Bishop perfect for Liu Xiao. Funny story, the Bishop ♝ is not actually a priest, but it represents a war elephant. Historically, the war elephant's main use was to charge the enemy, break their ranks, and instill terror and fear. That's fitting.

Another possibility regarding the toppled King could be that it refers to Liu Xiao's background. The fallen piece could be a resolved situation but the motivation behind Liu Xiao's intent to manipulate the timelines. Perhaps he played this game before and lost. Does Lu Guang know him or is Liu Xiao a mere stalker? Did they play this same game together or against each other?

There's a lot that can be speculated but it is hard to say what these pieces represent for now. As I said before, this read is based on popular imagery of what chess is, not on the actual strategy on the board itself. Secondly, these three new characters we have yet to meet, they don't have a defined role in the canon, not until Yingdu Chapter finally aires.

>> Tokens

Each character is giving a object. I guess it might be relevant to the type of gameplay the AR game will offer but for the sake of this meta, we're still gonna try to understand why those in particular.

Cheng Xiaoshi has a camera. I don't think it deserve further analysis, his powers exist through the lens after all.

Xia Fei has a clock. Guess the time? 10:10. For those unaware, it is a very recurrent time. Put the promotional poster aside, I recommend you pay attention to the time on the clock in the Studio, above Lu Guang's head, right before the gang gets a ominous call from Xu Shanshan's phone at the end of 1x09. If it should mean anything about Xia Fei himself: I won't say it enough but, really: DO NOT TRUST HIM. Or, you know, perhaps he's doomed: it is worth mentioning that except for Xia Fei's Pawn ♙, each character is affiliated to a piece which can move forward and backward on the board.

Liu Xiao has a gear. I find this one intriguing because, so far, this object has belonged to Cheng Xiaoshi's imagery (cf. "BREAK!"). For someone on an ambitious project such as controlling timelines, he is giving a small tool that cannot be used on its own, is part of a machine. Could be relevant to the way he does things, never getting his own hands dirty, working through others. Or it could be that he's himself just another player, played by fate. Or perhaps, he has the missing piece that Lu Guang needs to save Cheng Xiaoshi, who knows?

Vein is already using his own item: the pipe. He's the only one owning his object and aware of it.

>> The Case Study of Lu Guang

Because of course, our favorite character is actually the shadiest of all, I will dedicate a whole section about him specifically. Why do I insist on calling Lu Guang shady? We know and we see his chess piece is white. But you have to take a closer look to make out the White Knight ♘. The value of a Knight ♘ is equivalent to the Bishop's ♝. But ultimately, it worth less than Cheng Xiaoshi's Rook ♖.

L shaped path

Moving only in an 'L' shaped path, knights ♘ are the most effective from the centre of the board. This is because they get a broader reach in all directions from the central part of the board.

Now, this is very important. Why should it be a mystery that Lu Guang's piece is a knight? What is a knight ♘? The answer resides in the mechanism of his maneuver.

Part of the idea of the knight maneuver is to flank. And since the Knight is not a horse but a man on a horse, the odd maneuver reflects the knight's ability to guide the horse he's riding (to an extent). In other words, since the Knight comprises two entities (the man riding the horse), the move should sensibly consist of two parts as well, to reflect the added agility of the athletic horse. Conversely, the Knight has access to a maximum of eight squares (as opposed to the "equal" Bishop's maximum of 13) because the horse is still an animal with a mind of its own.

Note that if you place a Knight ♘ somewhere on the margins, its efficacy will diminish exponentially. Additionally, if he only moved two squares, straight or diagonally, the Knight ♘ would always be restricted to the color squares that he started the game on.

Lu Guang being the Knight ♘ doesn't only means that he moves unconventionally. It is reflective of his duality. Perhaps, the fact he's using his power and Cheng Xiaoshi's. There is another aspect of him we could address here:

Burning Palace

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For one thing, "BURNING PALACE" brings back the theme of strategy board game with the checkers this time (you see black pieces falling). It also settles the Four Heads from playing cards. The fact they bothered to mention it implies a fourth character.

Xia Fei: ♠

Liu Xiao: ♣

Vein: ♦

The fourth color ♥ is missing and I'm secretly convinced that it's Lu Guang's color.

Enygmatic Tokens

The portray behind Lu Guang is Lu Guang himself, from "Overthink". This image appears in the first bridge, when the lyrics goes "how did my sight got stolen once more?", superposing Lu Guang's face with mysterious shapes, erasing his eyes/power. This particular line comes to confirm what we already know: Yingdu Chapter isn't a resolution, let alone a happy ending, but a repeat of a tragic event in an unchangeable node. The end is the same, once again. Lu Guang's hope and happy ending has been stolen once more. And stolen also implied that there is an intent behind this failure. A portray is still a photograph though, and it can be used to dive back in time.

What is the most curious to me is the familiar eagle on Lu Guang's chest. Eagles belongs to Cheng Xiaoshi's imagery so why does Lu Guang is wearing them here?

An interesting take would be that Yingdu Chapter isn't actually from Lu Guang's perspective, but from Cheng Xiaoshi's, diving in a picture taken by Lu Guang. This would be some kind of plot twist and would definetely makes the big reveal easier but not less painful.

I'll probably make a whole meta about this symbol at some point but in the meantime, I'll let you know the eagle is associated with strength, power, wisdom, and freedom. The eagle's ability to soar high in the sky was believed to be a symbol of divine protection and spiritual guidance. Additionally, eagles are tied to the sun. Some people see them as signs of a bright future on the horizon. As a symbol of light, they embody both the intensity and heat of the sun as a fearsome force of nature and the warmth and benevolence of the heavens.

This positive symbolisms are deeply rooted in Cheng Xiaoshi's nature, but if Yingdu Chapter actually brings us back to one earlier repeat, we can assume that Lu Guang had a brighter outlook on his mission.

The glasses are back and I'll say it again: once is weird, twice is a coincidence and thrice it's a pattern. The portray shows Lu Guang without eyes but his item is a pair of glasses. Might be a subtile hint of denial there. As far as glasses go, pink is a peculiar color. It helps to 'voir la vie en rose', as the french say: "look at the world through rose-coloured glasses." Meaning, being delusional.

Might it be the eagle of the glasses, I'd say they're both representative of Lu Guang's state of mind at the time: hopeful.

Edit: I recommend you take a look to these threads regarding this very same artwork: | X | X | X | I don't agree with everything but it's always cool to have other perspectives.

#link click #shiguang dailiren #时光代理人 #lu guang #cheng xiaoshi #meta #liu xiao #xia fei #vein #yingdu chapter

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