#especially the camping chapters

[taran-chan]

my biggest what if is "what if the Eternals cast do a special edition for Three Meals A Day?"

like i'll never stop thinking about that ever

[sockscosyreblogs]

Mannn, I wish we got a mission with Sean and Lenny ^_^

Like one of the Stagecoach robbery companion activities.

Because I know they have interactions where Lenny is trying to teach Sean how to read and probably more that I can’t remember.

But in Sean’s party when Arthur says to Lenny, “We got your buddy back.”

I was hoping for more interactions with them :D

[dnangelic]

my eyes still hurt so bad but i forgot i wanted to make a post abt the potential misconception of daisuke (well at least him in particular given he's the openly nicer one) being mistaken for a chara that will always want to 'fix' other muses. i'm just here to deny that rn cause uuuh. aside from me as a mun knowing how boring or weird it can be to be at the opposite end, daisuke's circumstances themselves are pretty complicated, at least like, morally. daisuke does have a moral backbone. he has a sense of right and wrong, he does have a conscience and never wants to hurt others or see them senselessly get hurt, and a good part of his character is feeling guilty, knowing stealing and a lot of whatever else he's doing should be considered wrong, in tandem with stealing and doing all that other questionable stuff all the time anyways. he's someone who initially tries to shift the blame of things onto dark, saying that dark and dark alone is the thief, and that he hates stealing. (this is, again, complicated and only half-true; in the end, dark is him, and daisuke is a thief who both somewhat enjoys and can be confident in stealing anything,) but regardless daisuke will ALWAYS be a) crime-aligned (alongside literally his entire family) and b) somebody who already understands that the only thing that can really change a person is that person themselves. he's not really going to stubbornly morally preach or patronize others for extended periods of time because he knows it'd be hypocritical; he'll give advice if someone needs it or express a concern or two while trying to consider others' circumstances like with argentine, (a rogue live-artwork who was going to extreme + dangerous lengths to find an answer to what a human heart was,) but the most anybody will really get in the end is daisuke's shock and opinion. he's not really someone who'll ever try to force anyone to change, especially when such an important trait of his character is actually the helplessness of someone who's unable to do anything more than extending his own hand out to others and accepting them.

[prettyboykatsuki]

FANG i have smth i would like to inquire about an oc i am planning to make for red dead.....have not played it yet but plan to

i tried to hold off making an oc until i actually played the fucking game but whenever u (and lamb) talk about a new fandom it makes me chomp at the bit to immerse myself and now its too late

made my oc british thinking oh that might be fun!! but realised wait don't the british have heavy beef with everyone at that time....would that cause conflict at camp?? would she have tomatoes thrown at her during dinner (head in hands)

no not at all!! my very in depth self insert for red dead has a indian/british accent on a technical basis and the game itself has a really diverse cast of characters. you have a person at camp you meet later named trelawny who is super british but nobody rlly cares

the only character who would jokingly give you any grief about it is maybe sean cause he's irish lol. but he'd do it in a silly way like he makes fun of arthur for being an englishman as he says (arthur is american af so its very funny) there's also micah and bill but they're complete pieces of shit but it's not like a point of contention at all. camp has a mexican member, two black members, one mixed member (who is black + native!!) and for the most part camp treats them just fine. the game does not shy away from racism though so npcs out in the world might have something to say. but not camp

OBVS BEING BRITISH IS NOT A RACE THING BUT i use it to make a point that the camp generally speaking leans on more accepting then not.

again with the exception of micah and bill who are complete pieces of shit no one else really cares. especially not arthur who is both kind and very accepting... my feminist king fr

so i dont think ur oc being british would matter too much !!

[ktownshizzle]

Love & Lullabies | Part 1

Pairing: Min Yoongi x female Reader

Summary: What begins as a simple favor for your best friend Namjoon soon pulls you into the rhythms of Yoongi’s life—afternoons spent caring for his son, late nights filled with candid conversations, and a connection neither of you thought you needed. You’re just fresh out of a long-term relationship with an ex who didn’t want a family with you, so did you really just stumble into a life you’ve always dreamed of? (Thank god Namjoon isn’t the only one who’s clumsy.)

Alternatively: It’s 2025 and BTS is prepping for their comeback. All members seem to have gained muscle weight from their time at camp. But Min Yoongi has gained a different kind of weight—an 8-pound baby and a fuck-load of responsibility. (Thank god you’re there to help him.)

Genre: Fluff, Angst, Smut, idol!au, Acquaintances to Lovers, Reader is Namjoon’s bestie

Warnings: Yoongi is a DILF (!!!) That’s it.

Chapter warnings: A lot of mood and scene setting—just vibe with it, MC is in her sad girl era, hints of depression and anxiety, masturbation, Yoongi is a new dad y’all he is tireddd af

Word count: almost 6k

Posting date: November 12, 2024

Notes: This is inspired by an ask/prompt sent by @yoongznme. Enjoy, my lovelies~ 💕🫶🏼

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Masterlist

Namjoon leans back in his seat, sporting an all-too-familiar, slightly conspiratorial glint in his eyes. Hmm. You know that look. 

It's the same one he had when he "casually" set you up to tutor one of his trainee friends in English—the one you let slip was kinda cute. Or when he signed you up to perform with one of his rapper friends in that underground club in Hongdae. Sure, you knew every word of the chorus to eminem’s Stan, but you were not a fucking singer. 

You still did it, though. Both times. 

Namjoon’s especially notorious for volunteering you to do things he insists are "right up your alley." There’s a fire in his eyes when he starts talking about one of his ideas, and before you know it, you're swept up in his vision, already picturing yourself right there beside him, doing something you’d never consider on your own.

Namjoon has been your best friend since forever and for reasons you can’t explain, saying no to him has always been impossible.

Right. It’s definitely that. It’s definitely not because in those two prior instances mentioned, both friends of his are actually the same guy. The one you had an almost crippling crush on over a decade ago. (You’re sooo over it, though. Trust.)

When Namjoon leaned in, you were already bracing yourself.

“So, you know Yoongi, right?”

You blink, pause, and slowly shake your head. It has taken years, but today is the day you tell him, “No.”

“The fuck? What do you mean no?” He replies, already looking hella amused. “I haven’t even said anything.”

Your face feels like a furnace, but you grit and steady your voice. “Whatever it is, the answer is no.”

He lets out a hum, shifting in his seat, and you get the sense he’s working up to something. 

You sip your coffee, keeping your eyes on him. He gives you an exaggerated shrug, dimples deepening as he lets his shoulder sag. 

God you’re literally already about to break. 

“Fuck. Joon. Spit it out.”

He nods triumphantly, “Ok, there’s something I thought I’d run by you first, before he hears about it.”

The words hang in the air, and you raise an eyebrow. “Joon. What are you getting me into?”

Namjoon chuckles softly as he folds his hands on the table. “So… Yoongi has a son. A baby, actually.” He pauses, watching for your reaction. 

Woah. Someone has fuckboi Min Yoongi all locked down?! Huh. You never saw that coming.

You let that sink in, surprise filling the quiet space between you. “I… didn’t know he had a kid.”

“Not many people do,” Namjoon admits. “Only those close to him know. Yoongi’s a great dad, but his caretaker recently left, and now he’s scrambling to balance his schedule and take care of his son.”

“And his wife?”

Namjoon sighs, gives you a look that means he’s about to say something confidential. “There’s no wife.”

“Baby mama?”

“Out of the picture.”

You let out a small breath, absorbing everything you just heard. You already had an idea of where this is leading up to, but you want it said explicitly. “So what exactly are you asking me?”

Namjoon nods, eyes hopeful. “Look, I know this is a big ask. I’m putting this out there because you’re one of the best with kids I know. And Yoongi—well, he’s pretty wary about letting new people get close to his son.”

You take another sip of your latte as he prattles on.

“While you’re still getting your bearings back, maybe you could take over the caretaker job, even part time?” Namjoon scratches the back of his neck, grinning sheepishly as he says your name. “I just thought you might consider it. You’d be doing us both a favor. Yoongi really needs help, and I’d trust you more than anyone with this.”

You sit back, letting Namjoon’s words settle. Namjoon knows exactly what he’s asking—knows exactly how hard it is for you to refuse when he gives you that puppy dog look, especially when he’s throwing Yoongi into the mix. Honestly, you hate how you're apparently still soft for him even after all these years.

Namjoon also knows your current situation. Does he not realize it’s a bit unfair to ask this of you right now? Not when you're still picking up the pieces after your breakup with your long-term boyfriend. Not when you need time to heal. Not when you literally uprooted your life and just moved back to Seoul a month ago.

But somehow, you can’t shake the curiosity. What would it even be like to see Yoongi as a dad? To get a glimpse of this whole other life he’s got now?

It’s probably a terrible idea. 

Yeah, no. You don’t need this right now. Money isn’t tight. And you need to focus on… 

You take a slow breath, mentally tracing the edges of this mess. There are a hundred reasons to say no, and only one reason you’d even consider saying yes. And because it’s for Yoongi… damn, maybe that’s reason enough.

The next time you see Yoongi, it’s at HYBE’s massive rehearsal space. Namjoon had invited you to watch the group practice—innocent enough, though you know it’s also his way of nudging you toward the job. Joon thinks he’s subtle, but you know his plans are, more often than not, clunky as hell.

You settle in one corner, holding on to your half-finished iced Americano. A few staff are scattered around the studio, there was another girl (maybe a member’s girlfriend, you’re not sure), but it’s mostly empty. The boys are warming up, stretching or chatting, and you wave to Jungkook and Taehyung before finding yourself glancing toward Yoongi.

Wearing an all black outfit and a baseball cap, he’s standing off to the side, arms full with a fussy baby, and a bassinet stroller in front of him. The boy can’t be more than a few months shy of his first birthday. He’s close to tears, twisting and squirming, while Yoongi, visibly flustered, tries to hand him a toy, then a bottle, then anything he can find. Nothing works. Soon, the baby’s fuss turns into a full-on tantrum.

Oh, damn. Poor Yoongi. 

He drops the bottle, spilling milk across the floor just as the stroller, half-locked, rolls a few feet away. He lunges for it, fumbling as the baby’s wailing intensifies, tiny fists flailing in frustration. Yoongi’s eyes dart around, panicked, while a couple of female staff start toward him, hands outstretched. But he waves them off, his face set in a mix of fierce determination and mild desperation as he rocks and hushes the baby.

It honestly hurts to watch the scene unfold. You almost want to do something.

Namjoon starts clearing people out, Jimin dims the studio lights, and Seokjin picks up the spilled bottle, wiping down the floor. Hobi taps a white noise track on his phone, placing it near the stroller. Your heart warms at how effortlessly everyone pitches in, their movements so practiced it’s obvious they’ve done this before. But it makes you wonder just how many rehearsals have paused for these moments. It’s probably why Namjoon wants to help find a solution, a.k.a you.

You meet your best friend’s gaze and he cocks his head toward the door, signaling for you to file out with the others, but your feet take you somewhere else entirely.

“Is he okay?” you ask, approaching Yoongi.

Yoongi doesn’t hear you at first, too focused on calming his son. His face is etched with exhaustion and something fragile, an uncharacteristic crack in his calm. He finally glances up, half-exasperated. To your mild relief, a look of recognition crosses his face, before he replies, “Yeah, he’s—he’s usually not this fussy.”

You watch him struggle for a bit, then, before you can second-guess, you step forward. “Do you mind if I try?”

Yoongi hesitates, studying you like he’s weighing the decision to trust you with his son. His eyes flick towards Namjoon who was standing by the door, before it goes back to you. After a tense pause, he nods, handing the baby over.

You hold the little boy, shifting him gently away from the mirrors and bright lights, rocking him slowly and humming an old lullaby you used to sing for your preschoolers. Gradually, his cries quiet down, his tiny head resting against your shoulder as he begins to relax, fingers curling around the fabric of your shirt. Within minutes, he’s fast asleep.

When you glance up, Yoongi is watching, his face unreadable. There’s relief, yes, but also a quiet wonder, an almost surprised gratitude. 

“I owe you,” he murmurs, a softness in his voice you hadn’t expected.

“‘S ok,” you say, quietly, careful not to wake the baby.

The two of you stand there, his eyes on you for just a beat too long, and if you didn’t have the baby to ground you, you feel like you just might float.

“Thank you,” he says, tone soft and sincere.

From across the room, Namjoon watches, his eyes mirroring the same gratitude.

The call from Yoongi comes unexpectedly one evening, just after dinner. You don’t recognize the number, then again you don’t have a lot of +82s yet since you just moved back after many years of being in the States. The last thing you expect is to hear Yoongi’s voice on the other end of the line.

“Hey, it’s…Min Yoongi,” he starts, voice a little rough.

“Oh, hi.”

There’s a short silence, and then he clears his throat. “Namjoonie mentioned you uh might… be interested in helping with my son.”

You feel a strange flutter, both at the fact that Yoongi is talking to you, and at the fact that he’s asking something so personal. “Uh, yeah. I can help out.”

The pause is long enough that you imagine him somewhere, shifting uncomfortably. “I know it’s a lot to ask,” he finally says, sounding almost apologetic. “I don’t want to… impose or anything. But it would help. A lot.”

“Okay.”

“Thank you,” You hear Yoongi release a sigh of relief. Then he says the next phrase in a rush, “I know you are overqualified for this, so uh please let me compensate you with your salary as a teacher in America.”

You feel your face flush. Thank god this was not a video call. Seems you’re as uncomfortable as he is talking about money, though it is a necessary evil. “Oh, no, please Yoongi. You don’t have to. Joonie’s my bestfriend and you’re his brother. I can just help until you can find a more permanent solution.”

Thankfully, he doesn’t argue with you on this. You hear a puff of breath before he says. “Alright. Thank you.”

And just like that, you’re set. He gives you the address, and you’re left wondering for the rest of the night how you’ll manage this strange new gig.

The first day you arrive at Yoongi’s apartment in Hannam-dong, you’re a bundle of nerves, unsure what to expect. 

After you ring the bell, the door opens to reveal Yoongi with his usual reserved expression, a piece of muslin cloth draped on one shoulder.

“Hi,” he says simply, stepping aside to let you in.

You offer him a smile. “Hey.”

He closes the door behind you as you step inside. You look around, taking everything in.

The apartment is spacious but cozy, with a warmth that speaks of careful design—minimalistic furniture in muted colors, shelves lined with books and vinyl records, a few baby toys strewn around the living room. Homey.

This is the first time you get to really see Yoongi. The brief encounter at the rehearsal studio didn’t afford you the chance to appreciate how time has treated him. 

Seeing him after six years, he’s both the same and somehow different. He has always had that calm confidence—a steady, grounded energy that feels both nostalgic and new. His usually colorful hair, now in its natural hue, casually frames his face. He wears a simple white tee and you can tell the noodle arms are gone. His shoulders are much broader, arms stronger than how you remember him. The silver earrings are still there, subtle reminders of his edginess, softened by time.

But beneath it all, there’s a layer of, hmm… exhaustion, you guess? A shadow under his eyes, faint lines hinting at the weight of sleepless nights. His lips are chapped, there’s a tiny red bump on his chin. He’s a new dad, he hasn’t prioritized himself for a while. Still, his face carries a tenderness in the fatigue, like he’s tired, but happy.

“He’s napping right now,” Yoongi clears his throat, motioning toward a small crib by the window, where his son is sleeping peacefully, bundled in soft blankets. 

“You haven’t told me his name.”

“Haneul.”

“That’s beautiful,” you reply, and Yoongi nods, almost shy.

He hesitates, glancing down as if gathering his thoughts. Then he says your name. “I… um, I didn’t know how this would go. His last caretaker was actually my aunt, but she got sick and had to go back home.”

“I’m really sorry to hear that.”

He nods, “But after seeing how he calmed down with you… I think he’ll be alright.”

He gives you a tour of his apartment, the baby monitor clipped in his jean pocket. His place is modern, spacious, baby-proofed. There are pictures that line the walls of the hallway linking the nursery, his studio, guest room, guest bath, and the masters.

You spend some time going through Haneul’s things—familiarizing yourself with the layout of the nursery. He shows you where the baby food and snacks are. Talks about his favorite toys and activities. 

While he downloads the 101 on Haneul, the one thing you were curious to know was, where is his birth mom? You obviously don’t want to be a prick so you swallow the question down. Maybe you’ll find out in the future. But for now, you just need to know where the baby wipes are.

For the first few days that you come over, Yoongi keeps close, hovering just within earshot as you ease into the cadence of his son’s needs. He’s there with his arms folded, watching as you handle Haneul, a cautious yet respectful distance. You get it though. You’re a virtual stranger he just let into his home and his son’s life. Who wouldn’t be guarded?

You quickly notice that Haneul has a sweet temperament, but has a bit of a sensitive side. He doesn’t take to loud sounds, so you keep your voice low and movements gentle, singing him lullabies and nursery rhymes under your breath while Yoongi quietly observes, even if he pretends to be engrossed with something else.

On your third day, Yoongi has to leave to attend an important meeting at HYBE. He’s been pacing by the door, making sure his son is settled before he goes, even though you’re right there, holding the baby with practiced ease.

“Are you sure you’re… good with this?” he asks, his brow furrowed, as if still convincing himself to leave.

You give him a reassuring smile. “Go. I got him. He’ll be fine.”

He hesitates one last time, eyes fixed on you, and then he finally gives a small nod. “Okay. I’ll be back soon.”

As soon as the door closes, you’re left with the quiet hum of the apartment and a very awake, very curious baby in your arms. You spend the next hour rocking him and singing songs, amazed at how easily he settles, almost as if he’s known you longer than a few days.

After his nap, you take a video of the babbling Haneul enjoying his yogurt gems and send it to Yoongi. He replies almost immediately with a smiley emoji and a curt: cute.

Yoongi returns around dinnertime right as you’ve settled the baby down in his bed. He steps inside the nursery quietly, watching as you tuck the blanket around his son. When you look up, he’s standing there, holding two cups of steaming liquid.

“I, uh… thought you might want some tea,” he says, looking slightly awkward but endearing.

“Always.” You take the mug with a grateful smile. “How was your meeting?”

“Could’ve been an email,” He shrugs and stuffs the empty hand inside his pocket.

You grin as you take a sip, remembering how you’ve always enjoyed his dry sense of humor, in the rare occasions you hung out in the past. Ooh, this tea is… your favorite.

“Silver moon?” you asked.

He nodded, “There’s a TWG shop that just opened near the office. Namjoonie might have mentioned it was your favorite, so.”

Your ears warm up just as well as your throat as you savor another drink.

“How was Haneul? Did he give you a hard time?”

“Not at all,” you shake your head, looking over to the little angel. “I’ve had a lot of practice, you know.”

“I can’t imagine handling a whole classroom full of them,” he says, looking at you with a mix of admiration and amusement. “One’s hard enough.”

“You’re lucky to have him,” you reply wistfully, suddenly feeling a tug at your heartstrings. ‘What I would give…’ you almost utter out loud.

The thing is, you actually do, without realizing it. Unbeknownst to you, Yoongi files the thought away, a subject he might bring up one day—when the time comes that he thinks you trust him, too.

The days blur into a steady rhythm. You arrive in some afternoons, not really everyday, only when Yoongi needs the extra hand at home or if he needs to leave the house for a day of rehearsals. You both establish that this is merely a favor so he doesn’t treat you like you’re at his every beck and call. Usually it starts with a short message in Kakao, and if you’re free, he would send a car to pick you up. Your meals are always ready, delivered on the dot. Conveniences are always within your reach—your favorite tea, extra clothes in case there are food or poop blow-outs, etc. The cleaning lady that goes thrice a week, Mrs. Kwon sometimes keeps you company and assists you with anything.

As you help take care of his baby, you feel that he’s looked out for you, too. Which is nice.

On days that he is working from home, Yoongi brings his work into the living room, just to be nearby during playtime with you and Haneul. 

One evening, when his son falls asleep in your arms after a particularly fussy day, Yoongi glances up from his laptop and leans back in his chair, a tired but grateful smile breaking through.

“He’s really taken to you,” he observes, sounding almost as if he’s admitting it to himself.

You smile, feeling a strange warmth at his words. “I think he’s just a really sweet kid, Yoongi. He’s easy to love.”

The smile he gives you after that is probably the gummiest one you’ve ever seen. 

A few weeks pass, and a subtle partnership has started forming between you, like you’re both slowly finding a rhythm in the chaos of caring for Haneul.

Bath time becomes a kind of unspoken relay: you gather the towel and clothes, while Yoongi preps the tub, testing the water with careful fingers. There’s a brief exchange of glances—no need for words, just a nod as you pass off Haneul, who’s already giggling happily.

Snack time turns into a ritualized watch party. You set out the applesauce and crackers for Haneul, and Yoongi brings a bag of chips and his laptop over to the living room, joining you and Haneul for yet another episode of Miss Rachel. Occasionally, he’ll mutter a sarcastic comment under his breath, trying (and failing) to disguise the fact that he’s memorized the songs, too. (And in English, no less!)

There was one particular afternoon that you walk in on the father and son having a heartwarming exchange.

Haneul, who’s wobbling on his unsteady little legs, is reaching eagerly for a stuffed tiger Yoongi is holding just out of reach.

“Oh, no, no, no—you gotta work for this,” Yoongi teases, eyebrows raised dramatically. He moves the tiger side to side, adding a low, exaggerated growl that makes Haneul squeal with laughter. Yoongi leans fully into the act, growling and making faces, finally swooping Haneul up with a playful roar, both of them dissolving into laughter.

You can’t help but laugh along with them, your heart catching slightly at the sight. The way his eyes crinkle in genuine amusement, his mouth relaxed into a wide gummy grin. And you’re startled by how… soft he looks, how fucking attractive he is when he’s like this. When his usual quiet intensity is replaced by this playfulness, by this open warmth. It hits you somewhere deep, a warm, fuzzy feeling in your chest that you can’t quite ignore.

Yoongi catches you watching, his smile faltering for a moment, but he holds your gaze. His expression shifts, something curious reflecting in his eyes as if he’s wondering what you’re thinking, but he doesn’t ask. Instead, he swallows a lump in his throat, cheeks dusting a faint pink as he looks down, bashful.

You force yourself to glance away, feeling warmth creep up your neck. For the first time, you’re struck by an awareness of him that wasn’t there before, and it lingers, even as you turn back to whatever it was you were supposed to be doing. The image of his smile, his laughter—it all stays with you, stirring something you can’t quite put a name to.

And just like that, you’re settling into this role in the life of the Min men—something you know is temporary, but is infinitely meaningful.

When you’re not in Yoongi’s apartment, your own place feels strangely foreign.

God, you hate it here. You can’t even bring yourself to call it home—it’s just a room with white walls, half-opened moving boxes, a stack of unread books Joonie gave you, a mattress on the floor, and a fridge with a single egg. It’s quiet. Too quiet. You could fix the place up—it’s not like you can’t afford a bed frame or groceries—but for some reason, you’re punishing yourself. Like this is the way someone like you—unwanted and rejected—ought to live.

Nothing in this flat tethers you to it, and maybe that’s why you prefer being out.

You’re afraid your heart is stuck somewhere in limbo, somewhere between Seoul and LA. Maybe it’s still floating above the clouds on that flight back. You don’t know when it’ll come down, but you hope it’s soon.

Tonight, you’re restless, tossing and turning in your makeshift bed, replaying fragments of your old life—a love that once felt solid, a future that had once felt certain. Your mind drifts to those last conversations with Jiyong, your ex, the ones where he shut down every hope you had for a family, making you wonder if wanting more was somehow wrong.

You probably deserve it, though. You want a family, but you can barely cook for yourself. What do you hope to feed a child—takeout? Junk food? It’s laughable. You can’t even make a home feel like one. Jiyong probably got tired of you because you’re useless at it.

Stop. You close your eyes, focus on your breathing, try to still your mind. 1, 2, 3…

Some nights, you especially hate yourself. Tonight is one of them.

You need to call Namjoon. He can usually talk you down, ease the self-loathing. You ring him three times, but each time, you get his voicemail. Fuck. Maybe he’s out, maybe he’s getting laid. Good for him, honestly.

But that might actually work. You rummage through one of your boxes and find the one purple bullet that’s gotten you through plenty of spirals. With a flick, the vibrator buzzes to life, and you slip it beneath your panties, pressing it right against your clit. You’re not in the mood to drag this out—you want release, quick and easy, something to take the edge off.

At first, your limbs relax as that familiar tingle begins, little sparks shooting from your core, teasing you with hints of pleasure. You keep at it, determined, but after a few minutes, the sensations stall. It’s like your body’s stuck, lingering on the edge without tipping over, leaving you stranded and more frustrated than when you started. You decide to cut your losses.

Maybe a shower. Maybe you can pop by the GS25 down the block for a bottle of soju.

But then your phone pings. It’s Yoongi.

Your tummy suddenly feels funny.

You immediately swipe up and read the string of messages that has popped on your Kakao.

Yoongi: Hey so I found this in Haneul’s crib Yoongi: image.jpg  Yoongi: u got this for him? he is lowkey obsessed. Yoongi: But WTF is it? 

You cackle. Loud and hearty. A sound you didn’t think you were capable of on a shitty night like this.

You: A capybara! Look it up! Yoongi: Oh Yoongi: never heard of it You: They’re cute Yoongi: ? You: Don't be mean You: Haneul and I love bora Yoongi: ?? You: thats her name Yoongi: noted

That night, the Kakao thread becomes your lifeline. Yoongi asks about your next visit, what you had for dinner, and when you say goodnight he sends back a grainy selca of him and a sleeping Haneul with Bora. The photo brings unexpected joy, something to remind you that you aren’t as alone as it sometimes feels. Finally, you succumb to slumber, clutching your phone to your chest, thoughts of Yoongi and Haneul floating in your dreams.

After that, you become more and more aware that Yoongi’s place has become a sanctuary. There’s Haneul’s bright laughter, the way his tiny fingers curl around yours, and the sound of Yoongi’s soft, steady voice, creating a background that somehow starts to feel comforting. With them, you’re too busy to dwell on the past or the ache left behind by someone else’s rejection. Instead, you’re present, stable.

And it’s in those moments—when you’re reading Haneul a story or soothing him to sleep—that you feel a glimmer of something you’d thought you’d lost: hope. The simple act of holding him, soothing him through his small struggles… It’s healing in a way you can’t quite put into words, as if this little boy is slowly fusing pieces of your heart you’d almost forgotten were broken.

And Yoongi—he’s part of it, too. His presence, his quiet strength, the way he’s trusted you with something so precious. 

You know this is just a phase, that this isn’t your life, but a part of you can’t help but imagine what it would be like if it were. To be here, day after day, with this little family that’s somehow found its way into your heart.

You’re still healing, still putting yourself back together, but this—this feels like the start of something you could believe in again.

What you couldn’t believe though was the email from your building administrator with an acknowledgment receipt for next quarter’s rent payment—all settled. You haven’t made the deposit yet, how come it’s saying it’s been paid for already?

You pace your room staring at the email from your phone as if it holds all the answers. 

What is happening? Who paid for this? You didn’t sign up for some sugar baby service… 

Wait. Something clicks in your brain. Suga. Baby.

Your first instinct is to call Namjoon, meddler extrordinaire. He picks up on the second ring, sounding annoyingly chipper.

“‘Sup, buttercup?” he asks.

“Don’t act cute, Joonie,” you warn. “Did you know about this?”

There’s a pause. “About what, exactly?”

“Yoongi,” you say, practically hissing his name. “He paid my rent, didn’t he? Three months’ worth. How did he even know where I live?”

Namjoon lets out a hum, his tone maddeningly calm. “Ah. That.”

“Yes. That. Care to explain?”

“Look,” Namjoon says, unbothered. “Yoongi asked, so I gave him your address. He said you refused his offer, but still he wanted to pay you back somehow.”

“But Joon! It’s too much—” You pause, scrambling for the right words. “How did he even get a hold of the landlord and settle all this without my knowledge?”

Namjoon chuckles, which only makes you more annoyed. “Yoongi hyung is an influential guy, you know. If he wants something, he’ll fuckin’ find a way. Just take it, okay? You’re helping him, he’s helping you. It’s fair.”

You huff, still not convinced. “It’s just… a lot, Joon. I don’t need anyone swooping in and paying my bills. And you could’ve at least warned me.”

“I get it. But you’re helping him with something really important. This is his way of saying thank you.”

You sink back into your chair, the irritation draining out of you. “Fine,” you mutter. “But if he pulls something like this again, I’m coming for your ass.”

Namjoon laughs. “Aishh. Why the hell is it my fault?”

“You’re a smart man. Figure it out.” You hang up.

You spend that afternoon at Yoongi's. He was in a rush, dashing out for some shoot as you arrive. You hear him return around seven, just as you're finishing putting Haneul to sleep. Once the baby is settled, you tiptoe out of the nursery with the baby monitor on hand, following the sounds of soft clinking and the rich aroma wafting from the kitchen.

“Hey, Yoongi,” you call out, stepping into view. “Haneul’s all tucked in. I was just gonna—”

“Stay for dinner?” Yoongi’s eyes light up, his voice gentle but hopeful as he turns, holding a pot in one hand and a wooden spoon in the other. It looks like he came straight from his shoot, his hair still styled in soft, precise waves that swoop perfectly across his cheekbones. He’s wearing the softest, oversized yellow sweater layered over a crisp white shirt, and his jeans hug him just right. But it’s his smile that really draws you in—light radiates from him, his face glowing not just from a bit of skincare, but from something more.

Goddamn. The man is looking fine as hell.

You’d planned to meet up with Namjoon tonight, but one look at Yoongi—whose eyes are too shy to hold yours as he ladles red sauce into a ceramic bowl—and you know you are absolutely staying put. Joon will understand.

“Ok, yeah, that looks really good,” you say.

“It is.” Yoongi smirks, just barely, and gestures to the fridge. “I’ll plate this up if you can grab some drinks?”

You procure a couple of beers from the chiller and set them on the dining table, shooting off a quick text to Joon afterwards.

You: Hey, raincheck? Yoongi made dinner and it looks good ngl

His response is instant.

Namjoon: You blowing me off to play house with hyung. K. I see how it is.

This asshole.

You’re about to call and give him a piece of your mind when Yoongi’s voice pulls you back. “Everything okay?”

Your gaze shifts to the plates of spaghetti he’s just set down, the aroma working wonders to sway your thoughts. “Yeah, just Joon being a pain in my ass as usual.”

“Sit.” Yoongi gestures to your chair as he settles into his.

“Wait.” You grab the baby monitor from the kitchen counter, setting it between you and Yoongi. The screen shows Haneul fast asleep, Bora tucked securely under his arm.

“There. Now we can eat.”

Yoongi nods, and the two of you dig in.

It hits you that this is actually the first time the two of you have shared a quiet dinner together like this. You were expecting Yoongi to let the silence linger, but he starts a conversation mid-way.

“I, uh, was surprised to see you back here,” he says casually, twirling a forkful of pasta.

“Me too. It was… kind of abrupt.”

He nods, not pressing, just listening. You don’t think you’re ready to talk about that so you try a joke.

“Didn’t think you’d ever see the girl who carried your performance of Stan?” you add, smirking. “I basically launched your career.”

“Carried?” He raises an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Nah, you were choking.”

“Hell no.”

“Uh-huh.” He laughs softly, shoulders bobbing. “Rewriting history….”

“Fine. I sucked. Joon totally went behind my back with that one. Not that he’s the only one who likes going behind my back,” you add pointedly, of course alluding to the matter of your paid-off rent.

Yoongi scratches the back of his neck, looking almost guilty. “Sorry for overstepping.”

“Just don’t start paying my utilities behind my back, too. Because—”

He shifts awkwardly, avoiding your gaze.

“Yoongi?”

He clears his throat. “Just your electricity. I… may have asked the landlord to include it this month.”

“Oh my god.”

“And water,” he adds quickly, eyes widening like a kid who just got caught.

“Add my Netflix subscription while you’re at it.”

“Done.”

“NO!!! You’re actually worse than Joonie,” you groan, though a smile quirks at your lips. “But, thank you:”

He nods, briefly pausing before he speaks up again, a little too flippantly. “So… you and Namjoonie—what’s the deal there?”

You blink, caught off guard. “What do you mean?”

He shrugs, looking somewhere over your shoulder. “You know what we all think? That he’s playing some kind of long game with you.”

You wrinkle your nose, laughing. “Oh god, no. Y’all are waayyy off. Namjoon’s like my brother, that’s it.”

Yoongi nods slowly, the smallest hint of a smile on his lips as he watches you.

“Everyone thinks that, huh?” you ask, leaning in, a little bolder than usual.

“Mhmm.” Yoongi gives a slow nod, as he nibbles his lower lip.

“All the members?”

“Yeah,” he says, watching you carefully.

“Including you?”

He shrugs, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips, though something shifts in his expression, like he’s trying to piece together a puzzle he didn’t know existed.

“Interesting,” you murmur, swirling your glass.

“Why?” he narrows his eyes on you, wheels turning in his head.

Maybe it’s the beer loosening you up, bubbles lifting your usual filters. You’ve always been a lightweight.

“You never wondered why Joonie suddenly set you up for English tutoring with me—just you—even though your company had a professional hired to teach everyone?”

He blinks, eyes narrowing a bit more.

“Or why I ended up singing with you at that damn club?” You laugh, leaning back.

His lips mold into a small pout, processing, but you’re already laughing.

“Joonie’s been throwing me into your orbit, Yoongi,” you say, giggling, the alcohol hitting you hard now. “And you’re telling me you never noticed?”

He looks like he’s having a full conversation with himself, his mouth opening and closing like a stunned goldfish inside a gallon bottle. All he manages is an eloquent: “shit.”

“Well, for the record,” you pause, “I thought you were cute, but it was obvious you weren’t interested. Don’t worry, though,” you say lightly, glancing down on your almost empty plate. “I’m a big girl now. It’s all in the past.”

As you stab the last meatball, you miss the way Yoongi’s gaze softens.

You have no way of knowing what’s going through his head. But if you did, you would find that he’s thinking:

If he could go back in time, he’d kick his younger self straight in the balls for not noticing, and tell him to get his head out of his ass long enough to realize this one shocking truth: 

You were not Namjoon’s girl.

And he actually had a chance with you.

Because maybe you’re right. Back then everything was about the dream—y’know, big house, big cars, big rings, and all that shit. So yeah, maybe, he wasn’t ready then.

But that doesn’t mean he isn’t now.

Notes: Oh-KKKAYYY!! How are we feeling? Anything you liked in particular in this chapter? Where is the baby mama? Do we even care atp?!

Part 2 is where things get more flirty, spicy, and all that good stuff.

Tell me your thoughts and theories. See you in the comments! <333

Thank you for reading, you lovely, beautiful, human 💕🫶🏼

You can sign up for my permanent taglist here so you can be notified when I post updates to this story and more.

Part Two >

Taglist:

@yoongznme @nnybtitts08 @rinkud @nbjch05 @perfectiondazesworld

@marnz1990 @mxrauds @queenbloody @jadestonedaeho7 @futuristicenemychaos

@direnediane @glossdebut @maryhopemei @theresstardustinmyblood @mggv97

@wobblewobble822 @kam9404 @supernoonanyc @damn-u-min-yoongi @ot72025

@busanbby-jjk @granataepfelchen @jajabro @tarahardcore @marihoneywk

@ryryvna @tea4sykes @mar-lo-pap @lilkittenjenjen

@captainchrisstan @thelittlecatonthecake @flaneuseonthestreets @sexytholland @diamonddia-mond

@yronathaniel @as-hs-blog @amarssfanfic @mafersame @amarawayne

@eurydiceofterabithia

Sorry if I'm unable to tag you. Did my best to include everyone who commented and asked!

[soaps-mohawk]

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 13: Piece Me Back Together

Summary: Your pack deals with the aftermath of your heat.

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader, Ghost x Soap

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, smut, handjobs, anal fingering, anal sex, unprotected sex (please practice safe sex irl), spanking (it’s like once), choking (kind of), light Dom/sub dynamics, Johnny's praise kink, excessive use of the word cock, heat cycles, mating cycles, brief mention of blood, brief medical stuff, Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, a/b/o typical classism and sexism, language, and of course a little fluff

A/N: Well folks, we've made it past the heat portion of the fic. Now things can really start moving. Lots of aftercare, some world building, and of course a little spice at the end for you all to enjoy (as if the last chapter wasn't enough lol). I tried to catch all the possible tags for this one but as always, let me know if I missed one. The smut happens in the very last scene, so if you'd prefer not to read it, then skip that last little bit. You won't really miss much. Also, there's a lot of jumping around in time in this one so I tried to mark when things are happening relative to the present moment in the fic.

Want early access to chapters, as well as other bonus content? Consider supporting me on Patreon.

MASTERLIST | <- Previous | Next ->

6 Days Ago

“Looks comfortable.” 

Kyle glances up as Johnny closes the door to his room, blanket and pillow in hand. “Slept on worse.” He shrugs, glancing down at the cot set up in the hallway before looking back up at Johnny. “Moving out?” 

“Camping in Si’s office for the next week. Keep our distance.” He nods at the closed door. 

“Probably for the best.” Kyle says. “Have fun!” 

“Don’t enjoy yourself too much.” Johnny winks at him before making his way down the hallway and disappearing around the corner. 

Kyle shakes his head, starting to sort through the many bags of supplies they’ve stocked up on in preparation for their omega’s heat. They’re well prepared, all of them, for the next week, Kyle especially. He’s spent the last few days reading up on what to expect, how to best help and support his alpha and omega, and what to look out for in case things start going wrong. He doesn’t think they will. He has a lot of faith in Price and he knows Price will take good care of their omega. 

Still, he can’t help but feel a bit nervous. He has a big job to do, even though there’s not much to do until after the heat is over with. He just has to ensure Price doesn’t hurt you accidentally, or maul you to death. He doesn’t think that’s likely to happen, but then again, one can never know. 

Kyle lets out a shaky breath, grabbing the bags with the electrolytes and nutrient bars before heading for your door. 

It’s going to be a long week. 

Present Day

It’s quiet. Has been for almost an hour now. Kyle rises from the cot, slipping his phone into his pocket. He slowly approaches the door, leaning in to listen for a moment before putting his hand on the knob. He lets out a breath before pushing the door open slowly, slipping in and closing the door quietly. The smells in the room are worse than they had been last night, a toxic mix of omega, alpha, sex, and sweat. He takes a moment to breathe, adjusting to the scent. 

You and Price are spooned together on the bed, asleep, or at least you are. Price had pulled the blankets up around you, tucking you in. Kyle approaches slowly, not wanting to accidentally step on a wrapper and startle either of you and risk you getting scared or Price getting territorial. He brushes the damp strands of hair from your face, your body temperature significantly lower than it had been even last night. He pulls the forehead thermometer from his pocket, taking your temperature quickly before sending a text to Dr. Keller. 

He carefully lifts the blankets, checking beneath. You’re still locked together as he expected, and he lowers the blankets back down, tucking you both in again. He unplugs Price’s phone from the charging cord that he’d plugged in last night, rotating it to your phone. He knew the chances of either of you being aware enough to use a phone for anything would be low, but just in case, he kept them both charged. 

He tiptoes through the mess of wrappers and bottles, grabbing the bag of trash that he had started a couple days ago. He picks up the mess on the floor, cleaning off the nightstand as well before setting out a new bottle of electrolytes and a couple nutrient bars. There’s still quite a few left, but those could be saved for your next heat. 

Price stirs a bit as Kyle sets the bag of trash off to the side next to the bag of things that would have to go to the wash. He hurries over, gently keeping Price from moving too much. 

“Easy. You’re still knotted.” He says, putting a hand on Price’s shoulder as you let out a quiet sound. His skin is warm and sticky from sweat, and probably other things. 

Price rubs his eyes before blinking up at Kyle. “What day is it?” 

“Morning of the sixth day.” He answers, passing Price the bottle of electrolytes. “I think it’s over. Her temperature’s back to normal. Just waiting on Dr. Keller’s opinion.” 

Price hums, unscrewing the cap from the bottle before taking a long drink. “Feel like shit.” 

Kyle grins. “Been a long week for you, Cap. How do you feel?” 

Price screws the cap back on the bottle before leaning over you to place it on the nightstand. “Like I got hit by a truck and rolled down a hill.” 

“Speaking from experience, sir?” Kyle smirks. 

Price gives him a look before closing his eyes again, relaxing against your back. He lets out a groan as his knot deflates, his cock slipping from your folds. “Christ, that's going to hurt later.”

“Let me get the bath started.” Kyle says, going into your bathroom. 

He starts the water, making sure it’s warm enough before he grabs the epsom salt off the counter and adds some in. He leaves the water running as he moves back to the bedroom, helping Price off the bed first. The alpha groans as he stands, leaning heavily against Kyle’s side. Kyle wraps his arm around his shoulders, supporting Price as they make their way to the bathroom. 

“I’ve been beaten, tortured, shot. I’ve jumped out of moving cars, been in helicopter crashes.” Price says, grunting as Kyle helps him down into the bath. “This might be the worst I’ve ever felt.” 

“Not quite as spry as you used to be, old man?” Kyle teases, making sure he’s comfortable. 

“Plenty spry, but god I forgot how energetic omegas can be.” Price leans his head back against the wall, closing his eyes. 

“Just relax.” Kyle says, turning off the water. “I’ll bring her in.” 

He heads back into your room, approaching the bed. You’re shivering, eyes squeezed closed and eyebrows pinched. Kyle kneels down next to the bed, placing a gentle hand on your arm. You start a bit at the touch, a quiet whimper leaving your lips. 

“Shh, easy love.” Kyle tries to soothe you as you shake. “You’re alright.” 

You let out a whine, seeking out your alpha in your disoriented state. The bathwater splashes as Price shifts in response to your call, his own instincts still on high alert. 

“Let’s get you into the bath.” Kyle says before gently slipping his arms under you and lifting you up. 

You let out a whine in protest, your body sore and aching from the last six days. Kyle quickly carries you to the bath, easing you into the water between Price’s legs. You’re trembling, quiet whines leaving your lips as he eases you back against Price’s chest. The alpha wraps his arms around you, a quiet rumble sounding from his chest as he tries to ease your disorientation and discomfort. 

Kyle leaves you and Price there to soak as he heads back to the room to strip the sheets and start the laundry. Most of your pillows and stuffed animals are stacked in the corner of the room by your desk, spared from the mess that the bed has turned into. The sheets are still wet with a concoction of fluids, and he knows they’ll need to soak for a while. He stuffs them into the bag with your clothes, along with your blankets, before he heads down the hall to the laundry room. 

He checks on you and Price when he returns, both of you content still in the bath. He can’t help but smile as he watches the two of you, pride swelling in his chest at the sight of his alpha taking care of their omega. 

Their omega. 

It seems almost strange to think now. They’d gone so long without an omega, and thought they wouldn’t be getting one. Now, six weeks later, they’ve all fallen head over heels for a little omega none of them even knew they needed. He can’t imagine life without an omega now, how well you fit into their pack, how well you fit with all of them, how you’ve only served to make them stronger and more efficient. 

He hates to admit that perhaps Laswell was right. 

Maybe they did need you after all. 

Kyle bags up the plastic mattress protector, glad to see it did its job. He replaces the sheets and blankets for now, knowing you’ll want to nest once you’re more aware. He checks his phone before heading back into the bathroom, kneeling down next to the tub. Your shaking has subsided, reduced to a shudder here and there as you’ve slowly relaxed in the hot water. 

Kyle grabs a cloth and your body wash, starting to gently clean your skin, or at least get the sweat and other fluids off. Bruises litter your skin and the claiming mark on your shoulder is scabbed and angry. Kyle carefully washes it, not wanting to apply too much pressure as he cleans off the dried blood still stuck to your skin. He knows it’s going to hurt for a while. 

“What did Dr. Keller say?” Price asks as he helps ease you up so Kyle can wash your back. 

“Said if her temperature is normal then the worst is over.” Kyle answers. “She wants to do a check up soon, make sure everything’s alright. Said she’d come here to do it, if that’s alright.” 

Price grunts quietly as Kyle starts to wash his chest. “That’s fine. Easier than going all the way to the medical building. Simon and Johnny?” 

“Fine.” Kyle answers. “Been keeping busy running drills and stuff. Johnny’s been keeping Simon occupied.” 

Price hums, letting his eyes close as Kyle washes his neck and shoulders. “Good.” 

Kyle makes sure to get all of the soap rinsed off before pulling the plug on the water, carefully lifting you up to stand. He lets you lean against him, grabbing one of the towels to dry you off as best he can. Price gets himself standing, drying himself off as Kyle helps you back to bed. Price joins you, wrapping his arms around you tight as Kyle tucks the blankets up around you both. 

“Can I get you anything?” Kyle asks as he sets a new bottle of electrolytes on the nightstand. “Real food maybe?” 

“I’d kill for some bangers and mash, maybe a pint.” Price says, a smile tugging at his lips. 

“I’ll see what I can scrounge up.” Kyle says, glancing at you one last time before he leaves the room. 

Your body aches. There’s a deep soreness in your muscles, and a painful throb between your legs. Your skin feels raw and tight, and there's a steady pulse behind your eyes. A quiet sound leaves your lips before you can stop it, the sound cracking and broken from your raw throat. There's a desert in your mouth again, your tongue dry and heavy in your mouth.

Your thoughts are dragged away from the agony in your body as a quiet rumbling starts somewhere in front of you, your brain going quiet except for the need to seek it out. You press yourself closer to it, meeting warm skin as you try to get closer and closer. You want to bury yourself in it, seep into its depths until you can feel the vibrations of it in your bones. Arms wrap around you, pulling you in closer until you're squished against a bare chest. 

You press your face against the soft skin, trying to get closer to the rumbling purr vibrating from deep within. You let out another sound, body going lax as the purr lulls you into a relaxed state. The tension leaves your body, easing the ache in your muscles a bit. Not much, but enough to pull a relieved sigh from your lips. 

“Easy, love.” A quiet voice says, another hand touching your back. 

You tense slightly at the intrusion on your safe space, but quickly relax as the hand stills on your skin. The calming scent of beta overtakes you, easing your mind to a quiet hum as your alpha and beta work to calm you. You feel a bit disoriented as reality slowly begins to return, seeping back into your brain. 

You went into heat. 

You remember waking up with the blistering inferno burning hot within you, the insatiable need pulsing between your legs. You remember Kyle being there, the soft scent of him as he helped you prepare, pulling off your clothes and making you drink some of the electrolytes. You remember John entering the room, the way his scent made your brain feel like mush. You remember him sinking his teeth into your shoulder, his knot forcing you open before everything went dark. 

Everything else is a dark blur, wiped from your memory after your instincts took over. 

You shift against the body you’re pressed close to, a deep ache rippling through you. It hurts, everything hurts. Your hips are sore, your shoulder is throbbing, every muscle feels like you just did a triathlon with no training, and there’s a sharp throbbing between your thighs. 

You’re crying before you even realize it, the tears uncontrollable as they slide down your cheeks, the quiet sniffles and sobs aggravating your already aching body. The arms around you tighten, the purring getting louder, but you can’t stop the onslaught of tears. 

You flinch as something tickles the skin of your forehead, chapped lips pressing a soft kiss to your hairline. You let out a whine as you continue to cry, your mind a swirl of confusion and disorientation as you try to come to terms with everything that’s happened. You don’t know how long it’s been, what day it is. You don’t even know what happened to you in the last week. 

You continue to cry, oblivious to the conversation happening over you, the gentle purring in your ears lulling you into a dazed state as you float in and out of consciousness. The pain of being moved momentarily brings you back before you settle again, laying back against a chest. A baggy shirt is pulled over your head, smelling of your alpha. The fabric feels different than it had days ago when you’d woken up in the throes of your heat. It’s soft, not offending, and it offers you warmth and comfort. 

You don’t want to move, you don’t want to do anything. Exhaustion pulls at the edges of your mind as you lay there, the tears still streaming down your cheeks.

He hasn’t stopped purring since you woke up. The low rumble in his chest hasn’t stopped, and neither has the ache blooming there since you started crying. Even in your dazed, half asleep state, the tears still roll down your cheeks, quiet shaky breaths catching every so often. He’s not sure what to do, how to help. He’s never been with an omega that’s cried before. Not like this. 

His purring kicks up in volume as you startle awake when the door opens, letting out a broken whimper as your space suddenly gets invaded. He tries to soothe you, his arms tightening around you to try and ground you in his presence. 

“Hi, honey.” Dr. Keller says, kneeling down next to the bed, her voice soft and the scent of beta thick in the air. “Still a bit out of it, huh?” 

“She hasn’t stopped crying since she woke up.” He says, rubbing gentle circles on your arm with his thumb. 

“That’s not unusual.” Dr. Keller says, digging through her bag to pull out a thermometer. “There’s a lot going on right now for her. Besides the exhaustion and the confusion and the pain, there’s a lot of rapid hormonal changes happening. Some omegas can just wake up and hop out of it immediately and be just fine.” 

John frees one of your arms so Dr. Keller can take your pulse and blood pressure. 

“Others might struggle a bit more.” She continues. “Purebred omegas especially have a hard time coming out of it. They’re more sensitive to those instincts and the sudden cut off of them is rather jarring.” She puts her equipment back in her bag. “Her vitals look good, which makes me confident to hold off on any further examinations until she’s more alert and aware.” 

“Are there things we should look out for?” Kyle asks. 

“She’s going to be drowsy and fatigued for a while, but if you can’t wake her at all, call me. If her breathing gets shallow or her pulse weakens or she starts developing a fever again, call me. Also check for blood the next time she uses the bathroom. Her vitals aren’t showing any indication of internal injuries, though, so I think she’ll be just fine.” She pulls a pill bottle from her bag. “I’ve prescribed some muscle relaxers for her. There’s a week’s worth in there. It’ll help with the pain and discomfort, but they will make her sleepy. The best thing she can do right now is rest and recover. Once she’s more aware, you can try some soft foods and lots of liquids. If she’s really struggling, I can set up an IV and get some fluids into her, perk her up a bit.” 

“Thank you.” John says, shifting you slightly so Dr. Keller can look at the bite mark on your shoulder.

“How are you feeling?” She asks him, pulling out a disinfectant wipe.

“Sore.” John huffs out a laugh. “Nothing I can’t handle, though.” 

Dr. Keller hums as she cleans the wound on your shoulder. “I know I’m not here to give you medical advice, but as your omega’s doctor I feel the need to remind you not to ignore your own symptoms. She needs you right now, more than ever. So don’t try to macho man your way through anything. You need to rest just as much as she does.” 

“Yes, doctor.” He grumbles, adjusting your shirt once she’s done. 

Dr. Keller gives him a smile. “You did a good job.” She turns to Kyle. “Both of you. Don’t hesitate to call me. It’s what I’m here for.” 

A smile tugs at John’s lips as Kyle practically beams from Dr. Keller’s praise. He did do a good job. You’re both still breathing after all. 

3 Days Ago

“I cannae take anymore.” Johnny pants, his breaths near wheezes as he rests his hands on his knees. “Ye said you'd go easy on me.”

“I never promised anything, Johnny.” Simon says, standing behind him. 

“Hell's bells, L.T.” Johnny groans, dropping to his hands and knees. “Gonna kill me at this rate.”

“Don't be dramatic. C'mon, again.” 

“Uh uh.” Johnny says, flopping onto his side on the ground. “Am pure done in! ‘S almost lunch anyway.” He rolls onto his back, looking in the direction of the barracks as he wipes the sweat from his brow. “Think they're havin’ fun?”

Simon looks down at him, looming over him like a shadow. “Probably seems like it right now. Be a different story when it’s done.”

“Sometimes I wish I knew what it was like.” Johnny says, turning his gaze up to Simon's face. He can't see much under the mask, and right now is one of those moments when he wishes he could. 

“You really don't. It's messy and gory.” Simon offers him a hand, helping Johnny to his feet. “Gotta be prepared to pick up the pieces afterwards.” Simon turns, heading in the direction of the barracks. 

“That why you've never taken an omega?” Johnny asks, following him.

Simon stops dead in his tracks, turning to look at Johnny. Johnny's back straightens at the look in Simon's eyes. No, not Simon. Ghost. He's looking at Ghost again. 

“Drop it. Or I'll make you do another lap.” Ghost says, his voice taking on the low rasp he gets when he's shifted into the laser focused headspace of the Lieutenant. 

“Yes, sir.” Johnny says, following after Ghost as they head back towards the barracks. 

Ghost slips into the showers once they enter, Johnny heading to the corner to peek down the hallway towards their rooms. It's quiet now. It hadn't been when they left earlier. He could hear it as they passed the hall to go out the door, the distant sound of moans and the bedframe knocking against the wall. He had fought the erection threatening to tent his shorts all the way to the field. He knows heats are no light matter, but the mental image he's drawn up of you blissed out, mouth open as you moan, back arching in pleasure has been plaguing him for nearly two weeks. He's desperate, practically chomping at the bit to get a chance to see it himself first hand, to see the real thing putting his mental image to shame. 

He makes his way down the hallway, keeping a respectful distance between himself and your room. Kyle looks up from his spot on the bed where he'd been scrolling on his phone.

“How're they doin’?” Johnny asks, wiping the sweat from his face. 

“Alright. Sleeping for the moment.” Kyle answers. Johnny can only imagine the torture of having to sit and listen to nonstop fucking for the last three days. 

“We're gonna grab lunch soon. Want us tae bring ye somethin’?” 

Kyle nods. “Sure. That'd be great.” 

“Ye got it.” Johnny nods, passing a glance at your door before looking back to Kyle. “Good luck.”

“Thanks, mate.” Kyle says, watching his fellow beta walk back down the hall. 

Johnny glances up from his phone as Simon huffs out what's the tenth sigh in the last three minutes. The alpha is seated at his desk, clicking away at something on his computer and occasionally mashing away at the keyboard rather harshly. Johnny's surprised he hasn't cracked a key yet, or just thrown the whole thing out the window. The beta can see how tightly his alpha is wrung by the tenseness in his shoulders, the hard set of his brow, the set line of his lips, the occasional tick of his jaw. 

“What's got ye all riled up?” Johnny finally breaks the silence, setting his phone aside. 

“Nothing.” Simon grumbles, ignoring Johnny's gaze.

Johnny’s brow furrows and he pushes himself to stand, moving over to Simon’s side. “Doesnae seem like nothin’ to me.” He puts his hands on Simon’s broad shoulders, squeezing them, feeling the tension in his muscles. “Awful tense, Si.” 

“Leave it, Johnny.” Simon grumbles, trying to swat the beta away, but he’s insistent. 

“Wouldnae be a little omega getting you so tense, would it?” Johnny teases. 

Simon turns to him, his eyes darkening. His jaw clenches, hands closing into fists where they sit on the armrests of his chair. “Don’t push it, Johnny.” His voice has that deep rumble to it, the threat of his alpha coming through. 

Johnny stares at him, feeling the danger prickling at the back of his neck, but at the same time, he wants to push that boundary. He wants to see just how far he can push his alpha until he finally gives in. 

“I don’t know why ye keep torturing yourself like this, Si. Ye know ye like her. She’d be more’n willing-” 

“That’s the problem.” Simon snaps, pushing himself up from his seat, forcing Johnny to take a step back. “She’s not doing this because she wants to. She’s only doing this because she’s been told to do it.” 

“She’s an omega. Her whole life was going tae be people tellin’ her what to do and forcin’ her tae do things, even if she didn’t want to. Ye think things would have been different if she’d been put with a different pack?” Johnny doesn’t back down from Simon’s glare, having been on the receiving end of it enough times now he’s almost immune to it. “Things could have been a lot worse for her. She might not have wanted to be here, but she is. Ye can’t change that, Si. No matter how badly you might want to.” 

Johnny can tell by the slow fall to Simon’s tense shoulders that he’s struck home. The situation wasn’t ideal, but it’s what they were dealt. You’re here with them, and he’s going to make sure you feel as comfortable as possible. 

Simon lets out another sigh, turning away from Johnny to crawl into their makeshift bed. He lays down with a huff, closing his eyes. Johnny smirks, slowly crawling onto the two cots pushed together, laying down right next to Simon. He rests his hand on Simon’s thigh, feeling the powerful muscle flex under his hand. He slowly begins to drag it higher, Simon’s eyes opening again. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” Simon rasps, but he doesn’t move, even as Johnny reaches the junction of his hip and thigh. 

“Yer all worked up, big guy.” Johnny says, leaning his head on his hand, slowly moving his hand over Simon’s very prominent bulge. “Thought I’d help ye.” 

“What makes you think I want your help?” Simon says, still laying still. 

Johnny lifts his brows, slowly rubbing Simon through his pants. “This looks rather painful, and I seem to be the only option to help, since everyone else is rather occupied-” 

Johnny’s words are cut off as he finds himself suddenly on his back, Simon’s hand around his throat. The alpha is leaning over him, a deep rumble vibrating through his chest. “You talk too much, Johnny.” Simon rumbles, leaning close to the beta’s face. 

“I’ve been told tha’ before.” Johnny says, leaning up to try and kiss his alpha, but Simon backs away before he can make contact. “By you if I remember correctly.” 

Simon’s fingers flex around his throat, a moan spilling from his lips as Simon grinds his hips against Johnny’s. His cock is hard in his pants, has been for a while. He’s not sure if it’s from the lewd thoughts that have been plaguing his mind since you first kissed him, weeks ago, or if it’s just a response to the knowledge that you’re currently fucking their pack alpha like your life depends on it. 

Johnny lets out a whimper, bucking up against Simon desperately. Simon tuts at him, pressing against his throat to keep him still on the bed as he sits himself up on top of the beta. 

“Naughty little thing.” Simon says, staring down into his blue eyes. “Know you’ve been thinking about sinking your cock into the new little omega for weeks.” Johnny lets out a whine, his cock twitching in his pants. “I don’t think you’ll even make it that long, will you pup?” Simon chuckles. “Gonna cum in your pants as soon as you see her tits, huh?” Simon presses down, putting more pressure against his cock as he rubs it through his pants. “Gonna cum in your pants just thinking about it.” 

Johnny holds his breath, trying to focus anywhere except for Simon’s hand. He squeezes his eyes closed as Simon undoes the button on his cargo pants, releasing his throat to tug the fabric down around his knees. 

“Bloody hell.” Simon says, wrapping a hand around Johnny’s hard cock. “Prettiest cock I’ve ever seen.” 

“I thought Kyle’s was the prettiest.” Johnny says, opening his eyes to glance down at his alpha. 

“Kyle’s just pretty.” Simon says, slowly stroking Johnny’s cock. “You have the prettiest cock.” 

“Christ...” Johnny breathes as Simon continues to jerk his cock, his hips bucking as he can feel himself getting closer and closer to the edge. 

A pathetic whimper leaves Johnny’s lips as Simon pulls his hand away, sitting up on his knees over his beta. He undoes his belt, tossing it to the floor before undoing his pants, pulling them and his briefs down to release his own throbbing cock. Johnny licks his lips as Simon fists his own cock, slowly stroking it. 

“Turn around. Let me see that pretty ass.” Simon says. 

“Yes, sir.” Johnny smirks, wiggling himself until he’s flat on his stomach, pushing his ass into the air as best he can with his legs trapped between Simon’s. 

Simon purrs quietly at Johnny’s response, running his hands over his beta’s pert cheeks. “Prettiest ass too.” He murmurs, gently spreading his cheeks. 

“I’m startin’ to think I might be the prettiest.” Johnny says, gasping quietly as a glob of warm spit hits his hole. 

“Give me a night with Kyle and I’ll get back to you on that.” Simon says, pressing a finger into Johnny’s ass. 

Johnny groans, pressing his face into the pillow. “Fucking Christ.” 

“You can take it.” Simon soothes him, reaching down to fish the lube out of the bag he’d tossed it in last night. He squirts some on his finger before pressing further in, spreading Johnny’s ass open. “Good boy.” 

Johnny nearly melts into the cot, letting out a pathetic sound as Simon adds a second finger. He’s still sore from the last three days, but his drive to please his alpha pushes away any sensitivity he’s feeling. That, and the lust burning hot in him. Betas don’t have heat cycles, but he might as well be in the middle of one with how horny he’s been these last few days. He knows part of it is Simon being worked up by the knowledge that there’s an omega in heat nearby, and his own body reacting to his alpha. He’s never been around an omega in heat, and he doesn’t think Simon has either. 

He’s not sure Simon has ever been with an omega at all before. 

More cold lube hits his hole, a second finger pressing in. He gasps at the stretch, squeezing around Simon’s thick fingers. Simon’s other hand trails up his back, pushing his shirt up as he goes. Johnny pushes himself up slightly, tugging the fabric over his head before he relaxes back down against the blankets. 

Simon presses a third finger in, working Johnny open with what still won’t be enough, but Johnny won’t complain. He’s taken his alpha before. He’ll do it gladly again. 

“Fuck, Johnny.” Simon grunts as Johnny squeezes around his fingers again. 

“Cannae help it.” Johnny whines. “Feels too good.” 

“Didn’t say you could cum yet.” Simon says, removing his fingers. “Naughty pup.” 

Johnny lets out a pathetic sounding whimper, pressing his ass up to try and chase Simon’s fingers. He yelps as Simon’s hand meets his skin, his hips dropping back to the bed at the force of Simon’s spank. 

“Stay still.” Simon growls, the cap of the lube popping open again. 

Johnny does as he’s told, keeping himself still as Simon prepares himself. He groans as the tip of Simon’s cock presses against his hole, his hands fisting the sheets at the stretch. Simon’s hand rubs his back, trying to get him to relax. Johnny breathes, forcing himself to go lax, letting Simon slip in further. 

“Good boy.” Simon groans, bracing himself on the bed as he presses further and further into Johnny’s tight hole. “That’s my good boy. You can take it.” 

“Fuck!” Johnny groans, practically preening from the praise. 

“That’s it.” Simon groans, pressing in until his hips are flush with Johnny’s ass. “Bloody fucking hell.” 

Johnny’s mind goes blank as he’s filled, all thoughts leaving at the feeling of his alpha inside of him. He’s panting already, stretched open around his alpha’s cock. Simon begins to move, rocking his hips slowly, drawing his cock out before pushing it back in. Johnny whines, pushing back against Simon, needing more. 

“Please...” Johnny begs. “Please alpha!”

“Fuck.” Simon grunts, bracing himself further before snapping his hips against Johnny. “Like that? That what you want, pup?”

Johnny almost yelps at the sensation, hands fisting the blankets as his body rocks forward on the cot. “Fuck, yes!” 

Simon sets a brutal pace, hips snapping against Johnny’s ass. Pleasure numbs Johnny’s mind as the sensation of Simon inside of him. His cock is trapped between his body and the cot, dragging against the blankets with every thrust. He’s going to cum soon, he knows that. He won’t be able to hold it, not with how sensitive he already is. 

“Gonna cum, can’t hold it!” He whines, pushing back against Simon’s thrusts for more friction. “Fuck, alpha!” 

Johnny cums quickly with a groan, the blankets getting damp under him as he shakes in his release. Simon doesn’t stop, undeterred by Johnny’s clenching around him in his orgasm. He’s going to ring a few more out of Johnny before he’s done. 

They’re both in for a long night. 

NEXT ->

Taglist:

@bobaprint @ashy-kit @anunintentionalwriter @mockerycrow @hayleybarnesx @protokosmonaut @fruitymoonbeams-blog @blue-blue0 @hindi-si-ikay @thatonepupkai @redwites @kattiieee @141trash @lothiriel9 @dillybuggg @beebeechaos @konigsmissedbeltloop @kaoyamamegami @idkkkkkkk8363 @wallwriterstuff @smile-child-13 @anomiatartle @dangerkittenclaws @bless-my-demons @mystic60 @evolutionarry @red-hydra @lunaetiicsaystuff @linaangel @codsunshine @thriving-n-jiving @slayerx147 @ferns-fics @spicyspicyliving @cityoffallencrows @ttsbaby01 @heeheehoohoohahahihi @sleepyoriana @ihatethinkingofnames10 @cassiecasluciluce @darling006 @sheep-from-rad @ohgodthebogisback @willow-sages @scythemood @daniblogs164 @mirzamsaiph 

[lorynna]

In World War II, Nazi Germany established brothels in the concentration camps (Lagerbordell, Sonderbauten or Freudenabteilungen "Joy Divisions") to increase productivity among male inmates.

In the end, the camp brothels did not produce any noticeable increase in the prisoners' productivity levels, but instead, created a market for coupons among the camp VIPs.

Here's a few of the locations where this happened:

Mauthausen/Gusen, Auschwitz, Buchenwald, Neuengamme, Dachau, Dora-Mittelbau, Sachsenhausen, Flossenbürg and others

The women forced into these brothels came mainly from the women-only Ravensbrück concentration camp, except for Auschwitz, which "employed" its own prisoners.

In combination with the German military brothels in World War II, it is estimated that at least 34,140 female inmates were forced into sexual slavery during the Third Reich.

The brothels form the subject of "Das KZ Bordell" (The Concentration Camp Brothel) by Robert Sommer, a book that has been hailed as the first comprehensive account of a little known chapter of Nazi oppression in World War Two.

It explores the origins, structure and impact of the "Sonderbauten" (special buildings) run by Heinrich Himmler's SS in Germany and Nazi-occupied Europe.

"In the collective memory and written history of World War Two, the camp brothels were for a long time taboo," the 35-year-old Berliner told Reuters. "The former prisoners didn't want to talk about it: it was a difficult subject to handle."

"It didn't fit so easily into the postwar image of the concentration camps as monuments to suffering."

According to concentration camp survivors the women in those brothels were replaced every 6 months and the women who got replaced were killed in gas chambers.

It is important to note that we distinctively speak of sexual slavery here and of rape.

I wanted to point this out especially because I have been seeing liberal feminists talking about this topic, calling it "forced sex-work", "forced sex-labour" etc.

It is beyond disrespectful to call these female victims "sex-workers" or "employees" when their sexuality was brutally exploited, their diginities taken, their health was sacrificed, they were raped repeatedly and then executed after 6 months, even though they were promised to be released after those months. But those promises of course were never honored.

Liberal feminism and radical feminism differ a lot when it comes to views on the topic of prostitution but this does NOT excuse labeling victims of abuse and rape as "sex-workers" or calling their suffering "forced sex-labour."

[cressidagrey]

Stars all aligned - Chapter 9

Summary:

If there was one thing that both Azriel and Zahra Archeron had in common, it was that they were both very good at blending into the background.

They just never thought that their family were going to be the ones who never saw them at all.

Warning:

I'll keep the warnings, even though there is no outright mention in this part: Bashing of like...every IC member? Especially the Archeron Sisters, discussion of chronic pain, discussion of Infertility, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Underage Prostitution, Underage Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Accidental Baby Procurement

If any of this triggers you or makes you uncomfortable, please, take care of your own mental health and don't read it.

(Lovely dividers thanks to @sweetmelodygraphics)

"He'll be fine," Esmeray said evenly.

Zahra couldn't help but flinch, her eyes fixed outside the window. She didn't get to see anything, there was nothing to see, but…"How do you know that?" Zahra demanded sharply.

Esmeray didn't seem the least bit surprised at the harsh question."Because my son will always do whatever he has to do to survive," she said drily. "Just as he should. He'll come home to you." Her words were blunt, straightforward and to the point and Zahra felt the sudden tightness in her throat ease slightly.

Azriel was going to come home…it wasn’t like he was walking into…enemy territory right? He had survived two wars…he could survive dinner with his family…

“But normally his enemies aren’t his own brothers,” she whispered. Regardless of her own personal feelings about Cassian and Rhys…she didn’t doubt for a moment that…they were both exceptionally powerful.

Esmeray said nothing for a moment, her face pensive. She watched Zahra with an intense gaze, the silence drawing on as Zahra tried not to fidget under her scrutiny, her own gaze meeting Esmeray’s as the older woman tilted her head.

“Has Azriel told you what happened to his hands?” Esmeray finally asked her.

That…wasn't what Zahra had expected to hear. Zahra blinked as she stared at Esmeray, her mouth opening uselessly for a few seconds as she tried to form words. But in the end, she couldn’t find the words and settled for a shake of her head, her eyes wide as she stared at Esmeray.

She had seen the violent scars. Of course she had. They were impossible to miss. And she knew how they had pained him…though the useless golden glow of hers seemed to at least have eased that particular agony. It hadn’t seemed like they had bothered him again. 

“Or where he spent the first few years of his life?” Esmeray continued.

"No," Zahra admitted, her voice small.

She had an inkling that whatever had happened to Azriel as a child...it must have been bad. Really bad.

“I was 17 when a Azriel was born. One of the Lords at a War Camp fathered him,” Esmeray said, her voice quiet. “I was young…I was stupid…and my family had too many mouths to feed. So…I became his mistress. He took my son from me, when he was still a babe. And he kept him from me…for the years that followed. I was allowed to only see him an hour a week. My own son,” she spat out these words

Zahra stared at Esmeray.

She felt...sick. Sick and furious and heartbroken all at the same time as she listened to Esmeray's admission."Any other child...They wouldn't have survived these years locked away in that dungeon. And if they had....they would have been angry at the world and ready to watch it all burn," Esmeray continued softly. "But not Azriel. Not him. Not my son… He got the scars on his hands when his half brother’s decided to see how fire and oil would mix. The scars… were the result."

She wanted to vomit. 

The pain and heartbreak in Esmeray's eyes spoke of horrors that she couldn't possibly begin to imagine.

"The shadows came to him after that...And his father...he realised how dangerous Azriel would be in the future. So he send him away. To train. And for one decade, I thought I was never going to see my son again," she recounted, shaking her head. "I thought that if the years in the darkness hadn't killed him...then the training would. Illyrian start training young. He was already 11. He couldn’t even fly, Zahra. They had bound his wings to his back since he was a baby."

Zahra stared at Esmeray, her eyes wide.

She swallowed. It sounded like torture. Plain and simple. 

She hadn’t been treated…well as a child... hadn’t slept in the same nursery as her sisters, but instead in the servants quarter on a lumpy mattress with some mice to keep her company…but she hadn’t been…she hadn’t been locked in the darkness. She had gotten food…not the food the family ate but what the servants ate. She had been ignored…but even if Nesta hated her…she had never put her hands on fire. 

And Azriel…

"But he survived," Esmeray continued. "He survived. With these shadows of his. And he became a Carynthian, he touched the sacred peak of Ramiel...and then he came back for me," Esmeray said with a shake of her head and a shaky sort of laugh. "He came back for you?" Zahra repeated, her heart twisting in her chest as she listened to Esmeray’s words.

She couldn't even begin to imagine the love and loyalty Azriel must feel for his mother, to survive all that, and return for her.

"He did," Esmeray said softly. "He had every right to forget I even existed...but he didn't. He killed one of his half- brother during that Blood Rite...and he killed his father the moment he set a foot in that training camp where he was born. And then he came for me and brought me here," Esmeray said softly. "This is what he did for me, his mother. For his mate? I can promise you one thing, Zahra, with absolute certainty: As long as there is breath left in my son, he'll return home to you."

The words sounded almost like a promise and Zahra felt the tightness in her chest ease. Hearing the conviction in Esmeray's voice, the absolute belief in her son...made Zahra believe, just for a moment.

"His father wasn't a...good man. He was a monster," Esmeray said softly. "And he did...horrible things to me. But I'll never regret having Azriel. He's the only good thing that male ever created."

Zahra felt her throat close up at those words. At the unwavering and fierce love in Esmeray's voice, even as she spoke of the monster...and her son.

Zahra thought about herself. She didn't know if she could have...if she could have loved a child created from what had been done to her. Wouldn't know if she could have...if she would have been...able to love them as fiercely and beautifully as Esmeray clearly loved Azriel. 

"He’ll come home to you," Esmeray repeated. "Don't borrow troubles."

It was easier said than done. 

"I never wanted him to fight with his family for me," Zahra said weakly.

"It's your family too, is it not? Your sister is married to Rhysand…your other to Cassian," Esmeray pointed out reasonably. "What happened?"

Zahra felt her face heat up in shame as she avoided Esmeray's gaze.

"My sisters don't particularly like me," she said weakly. "I am a constant reminder of our father's...infidelity."

"And what does that have to do with you?" Esmeray asked, voice sharp.

Zahra flinched back in surprise at the sharp tone and how direct the question was.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

Esmeray snorted derisively. "Your father's infidelity...is exactly what it says on the tin: your father's sin," she snapped. "Not yours. You are your own person, not an object created solely to hurt your half-sisters or their mother. Who do they think they are, to decide who you are based on their father's mistakes?"

She could just blink at Esmeray as she felt a knot in her throat. Zahra swallowed past it tightly. She had always just been a bastard created by her father’s infidelity. That was the one thing…that she would never get away from. 

But there was also…

"... I had an affair with a married man," she admitted weakly. "While I was human."

Esmeray fell silent, the only sound echoing the quiet.

Zahra didn't meet Esmeray's gaze, her hands curled into tight fists on her lap as she waited for the older woman to speak.

She was waiting for judgment. 

“Do you really think, you’ll get judgment from  me, when I did the same?” Esmeray asked her, her voice quiet. “Azriel is the result of that, Zahra. So were you…But you must have been…awfully young?” Esmeray said softly. “You are what? 20 now?”

"24," Zahra corrected her weakly. "I was 15. When it started."

Esmeray's face twisted in fury when Zahra answered her question. It was clear that she already put the pieces together, even before hearing the young woman's answer.

"You were a child," Esmeray snapped. "How much older than you was he? A few decades, l imagine?"

"Eighteen years older," Zahra responded quietly, her voice trembling slightly. "...Feyre was sick. He owned the apothecary. We had no money and she needed medicine and I..."

Zahra swallowed back the bile rising in her throat as she recalled the fear of those days, the pain and terror as she desperately tried to protect her sister.

She remembered how he used her. How he took advantage of her when she had no one else to turn to, no one else to rely on.

"In what world would you call this an affair, sweetheart?" Esmeray asked her weakly. "How long did it go on?"

Zahra took a shuddering breath as she stared at the ground.

"Six years," she answered, voice shaking. “I would rather call it an affair than call myself a whore,” she said weakly. 

Esmeray reached out to put a hand on her shoulder. "He hurt you." It was said flatly. Not a question.

"Yes," Zahra choked out, forcing the words passed the knot in her throat. "He hurt me." The words tasted like ash as they left her lips, the pain and shame they came with making her feel sick to her stomach.

She didn't want to think about it, about him, or the pain he made her feel.

She never wanted to think about it again, she didn't want to recall the things he did to her. There was no escaping the pain the memories brought, or the pain he caused for all those years. And still to this day. 

"I won't be able to have kids," she whispered. "He took that from me too."

Esmeray reached forward, a shaky hand resting in the younger woman's.

"Oh, sweetheart," Esmeray muttered, her voice shaking in sympathy and fury. And then..."There were two pregnancies after Azriel," she said softly. "I miscarried the first...the second...he beat me so badly that...the baby was too small to survive," Esmeray said softly. "Not anymore after that. He took that from me too."

Tears welled in Zahra's eyes as she listened to Esmeray's soft words.

"I'm so sorry," Zahra whispered. The pain Esmeray felt was so evident in those words, and Zahra couldn't help but feel sorry for her.

She couldn't begin to imagine how it must feel, to lose children the way she did.

"Don't be," Esmeray reassured her, voice shaking. "It was a long time ago...and I love my son. I love Azriel. He's more than enough for me. Why mess with perfection?" she asked, her voice firm. Zahra couldn't help a weak laugh that escaped her.

"And if you and Azriel decide that you want children one day...there are ways to have children that aren't the traditional way," Esmeray continued. "There are plenty of illyrian children that are simply...thrown away. Not here in Rosehall but in some of the more traditional camps. Not enough food for too many mouth to feed...bastards themselves...physical disabilities...plenty of reasons," she said with a shudder.

Zahra blinked in surprise at the words.

She...she hadn't had the chance to think about anything beyond surviving yet, let alone how...how she and Azriel would have children some day in the future, if they wanted. after everything that happened.

But children, a family...she had always wanted a family. A family of her own. She just...hadn't even considered how that could ever happen to her.

There were children like her, thrown away as unwanted, but she hadn't known that it was such a... common occurrence.

"That's horrible," she whispered under her breath.

To think that those children were left behind, abandoned, or thrown out when they were too young to even take care of themselves... It filled her with rage. How could an entire society treat people like that?

"Sometimes it's something as simple that they are girls," Esmeray said, her voice bitter. "Girls are useless in their eyes."

Zahra felt her heart twist in fury at the words.

The fact that an entire society could think that girls were useless enough to throw them aside...it sickened her.

"Azriel will come home," Emeray promised her with a squeeze of her hand once more as she pulled back to go back to her cooking. "Could you set the table?"

Zahra nodded quietly, her words stuck in her throat as she swallowed her tears.

She stood and slowly went over to the kitchen, gathering the things necessary to set the table for dinner.

But she couldn't get one thing out of her head. "Do you...Do you keep an eye on his half brother?" She asked the shadows softly. "So he'll never hurt Azriel again?"

The shadows writhed in the air, twisting around on themselves for a few moments as if in agitation.

Zahra swallowed slightly at the sight of the shadows reacting like that.

"Could you?" Zahra requested. "please? Just for my own sake of mind?"

The shadows writhed a little more before they seemed to quiet down, only a gentle shift in movement now, as if the shadows had accepted her request.

"Thank you," she said softly.

You're welcome, the voice was as soft as a breath, as otherworldly as that as well.

Zahra couldn't help the shiver that ran down her spine at the voice that echoed in her head.

It was as otherworldly as it was strangely soothing.

***

Azriel was tired. Tired and exhausted and hurting and furious and hungry, his rage and exhaustion leaving him on a hair trigger.

His shadows writhed in the air around him, agitation and fury rolling off of

It was done. He had had that talk. It had gone...better than he thought it would. Which was something, he supposed. But it left him tired...

His exhaustion was seeping into his bones, settling deep and leaving him heavy and...worn. He was exhausted deep in his marrow, all the way down to his very soul.

He didn't like to fight. He had never liked to fight. Especially not this kind of fighting. Fighting with knifes and swords was one thing...this kind of emotional bloodletting was another thing entirely.

It hurt so much more, to be vulnerable, to lay his emotions, his deepest secrets and insecurities, bare and have others know them. Have others be able to twist and use those things against him if they so desired.

And even when this had needed to have happened...needed to be done...this didn't make it any easier.

It had made him feel horrible to use…Zahra’s most traumatic moments as pressure points. 

He just needed...he just needed to see Zahra. Jsut needed to know that she was safe.

That need rose like a crashing wave.

He could feel it now, the need to get to his mate, to know that she was safe, to see her and feel it.

So he winnowed. The wards around Rosehall bent to his will...and just seconds later, he got to walk through his mother’s front door.

He heard voices, his mother's low murmur and Zahra's soft responses to the older woman, the words a quiet hum in the air that carried him further into the small home.

The smell of food rose in the air, the rich scent of stew and bread wafting through the hallway as he followed the voices and the scent of food into the dining room.

„Azriel!" and then Zahra was already throwing herself at him and he caught her instinctively, burying his face against her shoulder. Not a scratch on her. Nothing. Just the warm scent of her.

Honeysuckle and something he never could quite place. 

His mate was safe. She was whole and unharmed and right there...in his arms.

“She was worried for you," his mother said drily.

He ignored the words for a few moments longer, clinging to his mate.

Azriel took another deep breath, the scent of his mate so close easing the tension in his body little by little.

He finally pulled back, his hands moving to frame her face, just to feel her warm skin against his palms.

Their gazes met, the green of her eyes familiar and safe and comforting and Azriel felt some of his exhaustion and tension bleed away.

Being in her presence always felt like he could simply...breathe, no matter the circumstances.

In her presence, he could breathe.

"All is well," he promised Zahra who leaned into his touch, her eyes misted with tears. But she simply nodded.

She believed him. 

That small, simple gesture. The way she nodded and trusted his word, was enough to make him lean in and press a kiss against her forehead.

"Are you hungry? We made stew. Esmeray was nice enough to teach me how to make Illyrian flatbread." She asked him and he nodded. His stomach twisted a little at the reminder.

Yeah, he was hungry. Starving actually.

"Food and then bed for both of you," his mother said with some amusement as she filled his plate for him.

He huffed out a breath, his hands still in a gentle grip around Zahra as if to ensure she wouldn't slip away from his grasp.

For once, he couldn't bring himself to complain about his mother's bossy attitude.

The idea of food and then sleeping in a warm bed with his mate curled up against his chest, her steady heartbeat and slow breathing a reminder that she was there, safe and whole beside him...it sounded like perfection.

He cleared two plates of stew and then curled up in the guest bedroom with Zahra, tucked safely and warmly underneath his mother’s quilt.

"How did it really go?" Zahra asked him in the darkness of the room, drawing random patterns onto his naked chest. 

"Both better and worse than I thought it would," Azriel answered honestly. Then he grimaced. "...I told them. About what happened to you."

"Oh," she said, voice quiet even as she shifted closer and wrapped her arms around him. "How did they…..take it?"

He had expected anger. Expected…something.  "You aren't angry?" He checked and Zahra just weakly shrugged. "They wouldn't have understood without, would they?" She forced out, her voice trembling.

She was right. He wished they didn't need to use her trauma as a shield but...

She was right.

He hated it. But he couldn't deny the truth in her words.

"Your sisters were distraught," he said delicately. "Elain wants your forgiveness… Feyre wanted to know where you are."

He heard Zahra take a shuddering breath, felt the way her chest rose as she tensed.

"Why?" she muttered, sounding more tired than angry.

He didn’t need to be Rhys to be able to read her thoughts. Why did Feyre care now?

"She wanted to apologize," he answered softly as he felt the tension in her body, rubbing her should gently. 

"And Nesta?" Zahra asked weakly.

"Let's just say, I am pretty certain that Cassian and her are going to have a screaming match sometime soon."

"Why?" she asked, her voice so quiet and small that it made his chest ache. 

His hand moved to gently brush over her waist, slowly stroking along her side in what he hoped was a soothing motion.

"Let's just say that she didn't take the news of our mating bond well, and leave it at that," Azriel said with a snort. "It doesn't matter what she thinks."

Zahra huffed a small amount of breath, the tiniest of laughs.

"No, it doesn't," she agreed, body leaning more heavily against his as the tension slowly drained from her. "Your mother is lovely, by the way," Zahra said softly.

That made him smile a little bit, warmth flooding him at the mention of his mother. He was so glad Zahra and Esmeray seemed to get on as well. He couldn't quite put it word, the relief and happiness he felt at the knowledge that the two people he loved seemed to get on so well. And the shadows... well they were already enamored with Zahra as well.

He felt the shadows curl and twist around his waist in fond affection and he couldn't help but smile faintly.

They had been fond of Zahra since the beginning, but now..they were practically in love with her.

He pressed a kiss against her forehead and closed his eyes. 

Between one breath and the next Azriel fell asleep. 

Only to be roughly awakened by his shadows what seemed like seconds later.

Master. Master, you need to wake up. He was awake immediately, thrown back to the last time they had done the very same thing to him. But there was no iron-rich scent of blood in his nose. Nothing of that sort. And Zahra was peacefully slumbering away next to him, looking younger in her sleep than she did awake…nothing out of the ordinary. 

What's wrong? he demanded immediately. He could hear his mother's quiet heartbeat down the hall, nothing seemed to be amiss with her either.

Something… happened, his shadows whispered hesitantly and the sound of it made him sit upright in bed, his grip tight around Zahra, shielding her from danger as he stared into the darkness of the bedroom. We…maybe broke a rule, Master.

A rule.

There were only very few rules the shadows had gotten from him. Mostly to not outright starting to murder anybody unless he allowed it.

What did you do? he asked with a sigh, rubbing a hand over his face. Had they gone back to their habit of gambling a truly ridiculous amount of money all at once? He had gotten them to do it more often but with smaller sums of money so it wasn't as obvious as it once had been centuries ago.

Esmeray told her about what happened to your hands, Master, the shadows admitted softly. And that you went to get her after the Blood Rite... Our Mate asked if the shadows kept an eye on…*him*. 

Oh, he breathed out, the tension in his shoulders easing a little. What did you do? he asked with a sigh. Did he want to know? If they had killed his half-brother that would be...well there were worse things they could have done, he supposed...He just hoped they made it look like an accident if they did murder him. 

The shadows stayed silent for a moment.

He's still using the dungeon, the shadows said softly. But the warding is...broken. The warding that had kept him contained. Now it would be nothing but a blink of an eye to break...but for a weak 8 year old...it had been impossible to escape.

What did you find? he asked, swallowing.

We may have...taken her, the shadows admitted quickly. But if we hadn't, who knows how long she would have survived down there!

Azriel stared into the darkness, taking a breath at the word.

Who exactly is *she*? he demanded sharply.

His bastard daughter, the shadows said quickly. She's just a baby!

You kidnapped a baby?!?!

[helenofsparta2]

Having the whole plot between Nico and Percy be resolved simply with “You’re not my type” in Blood of Olympus was such a huge disservice to both characters

They are pivotal parts to each others journey. No person in PJO influenced Nico as much as Percy did, aside from Bianca, and no person represents Percy’s guilt and the responsibility he had to shoulder more than Nico does. The writing for both characters really suffers through this lack of a real satisfying resolution.

First to talk about what Percy represents for Nico:

Percy, first of all, represents Nico’s introduction to the mythological world

He is the first demigod Nico ever came in contact with

He saved him and Bianca from the manticore (somewhat)

Nico stated in Blood of Olympus than Percy had reminded of the heroes of his mythomagic game come to life

Nico wholeheartedly believed that Bianca would be safe, if Percy was with her and created this image of the perfect hero in his mind, putting Percy on a pedestal

2.

In Nico’s mind Percy is irrevocably intertwined with Bianca and everything that happened to her

Despite Nico naively believing, that Bianca would be safe if Percy were around, he was instead the last person to ever talk to her, and present when she died

Percy informed Nico of her death (Dead silence. I stared at Chiron. I couldn’t believe nobody had told him yet. Then I realized why. They’d been waiting for us to appear, to tell Nico in person, Titan’s curse)

Nico turned him into the scapegoat for her death, so that he could let all his grief and anger and bitterness out on him

Bianca sent Iris-messages to Percy, so that he would find and help Nico (“Percy has been worried about you, Nico. He can help. I let him see what you were up to, hoping he would find you.”, Battle of the Labyrinth)

Her ghost only appeared to Nico when Percy was with him

Percy is the only person Nico knows of, who also grieved for Bianca (“Bianca,” I said. My voice was thick. I’d felt guilty about her death for a long time but seeing her in front of me was five times as bad, like her death was fresh and new. I remembered searching through the wreckage of the giant bronze warrior she’d sacrificed her life to defeat, and not finding any sign of her. “I’m so sorry,” I said. Battle of the Labyrinth)

3.

Percy is the person who protected and cared for Nico more than anyone else in pjo

Tried to convince Bianca to think more deeply about her decision of joining the hunters, especially thinking of him (“Biance, this is crazy,” I said. “What about your brother? Nico can’t be a hunter.” (Titan’s curse)

Searched the woods in the dark for hours after he had disappeared (Annabeth and Grover helped me search the woods for hours, but there was no sign of Nico di Angelo.)

Didn’t tell Chiron about Nico’s parentage to protect him from the Gods. (I don't think Nico understands who he is. But we can't go telling anyone. Not even Chiron. If the Olympians find out—") Titan’s curse)

Decided to completely commit to the prophecy, solely so Nico didn’t have to bear that burden and go trough any more suffering(It was the last thing I wanted, but I didn't say that. I knew I had to step up and claim it. "I can't let Nico be in any more danger," I said. "I owe that much to his sister. I… let them both down. I'm not going to let that poor kid suffer any more." ) Titan’s curse)

Searched for Nico in the months after Titan’s Curse (Now, six months later, I hadn’t even come close to finding him. It left a bitter taste in my mouth. Battle of the labyrinth, chapter 3))

Saved his life on Geryon’s farm. (“Either way, you get my friends,” I said. “But, if I succeed, you’ve got to let all of us go, including Nico.”)

Always offered Nico a place at camp half-blood to the best of his abilities (“We missed you at dinner,” I said. “You could’ve sat with me.”“No.”“Nico, you can’t miss every meal. If you don’t want to stay with Hermes, maybe they can make an exception and put you in the big house. They’ve got plenty of room.”, Battle of the Labyrinth)

Invited him to join him on his birthday (“Is that… is that blue birthday cake?”He sounded hungry, maybe a little wistful. I wondered if the poor kid had ever had a birthday party, or if he’d ever been invited to one. “Come inside for cake and ice cream,” I said. “It sounds like we’ve got a lot to talk about.”, Battle of the Labyrinth)

Reminded him that he was still a child (I smiled. “Maybe it’s okay to still be a kid once in a while.” I tossed him the statue, Battle of the Labyrinth)

Helped him to get the sword of hades back to impress his father (Then I looked at Nico. Unfortunately, I recognised the expression on his face. I knew what it was like wanting to make your dad proud, even if your dad was hard to love., Sword of hades)

Acknowledged everything Nico did in The last Olympian and is one of the main reasons why Hades has a cabin at camp. ( “But your children should not be left out. They should have a cabin at camp. Nico has proven that.”)

4.

Percy was Nico’s first, and after Will, his biggest love

Nico had feelings for Percy, which didn’t leave him for around 2 1/2 years, and accompanied him throughout the most challenging parts of his life. 

Feelings, which were so deep, the god of love personally acknowledged them.

Favonius even called Percy, the person Nico cares about most in House of Hades.

This was more than just a mere crush

Percy is so completely intertwined with most aspects of Nico’s character arc, in both PJO and Hoo, be it his feeling of ostracism, his relationship to Bianca or him coming to term with his own sexuality, that them not having a final interaction, makes his writing feel shallow and unfinished. Especially Nico coming to terms with his crush on Percy opens up the opportunity for a really heartwarming conversation and a moment of character growth and maturity for both of them, instead of it being wasted on one throw-away line.

And it’s the same the other way around. Nico is also a huge part of Percy’s journey.

He especially represents Percy’s biggest failure.

The first five Percy Jackson books are characterized by Percy having to take up responsibility and him being afraid of not being able to fulfill them. Be it responsibility for camp, the world, Bianca’s death, the prophecy, his friends, teh unclaimed demigods, or everything else. Most of the time, Percy was able to make sure everything turned out fine. He saved camp, he saved Olympus, he finished his quests, made the right decision for the prophecy, and he made the gods swear upon teh styx. But there’s one exception. And that is Nico.

Percy did everything in his power to make sure Nico would be spared any more hardships. He took up the burden of the prophecy, explicitly, so that Nico doesn’t have to go through any more hardships

He searched for him after Titan’s curse, kept his identity a secret and even risked himself, Annabeth, Grover and Tyson dying if it meant saving Nico

Still, Nico is one of the characters, if not the character, who has suffered the most in PJO and Hoo, even partly because of Percy (though, of course, Nico having a crush on him was not Percy’s fault at all)

He lived alone at 11 years old on the streets and in the labyrinth, while getting manipulated by an ancient evil spirit

He was isolated and ostracized at camp half-blood

He experienced the horrors of Tartarus completely on his own

He got captured by the giants and slowly suffocated to death in a small jar

He had to deal with internalized homophobia and his complicated feelings regarding Percy

He has been a vital part of two wars at only 15 years old

Had to admit his crush involuntarily in front of Jason, etc.  

One of the things Percy battles with in Heroes of Olympus is this overwhelming sense of guilt. He blames himself for almost everything that went wrong over the last few years. Be it for Iapetus, Calypso, or especially Nico. Having Percy acknowledge this complicated relationship he has with him during House of Hades, but not allowing the two of them to talk it out is genuinely baffling to me, and one of the (albeit many) reasons why I really don’t like most of Percy’s writing during Heroes of Olympus, despite the fact that he is my favourite character by far. This could have led to a moment of character growth, where Nico helps Percy to aknowledge that he feels guilty for things he had little to no control over, while Nico himself realizes how important he actually is to Percy.

They are also so similar in terms of who they are and what they’ve been through, that even if you ignore their history with each other, it seems insane, that they didn’t interact in any meaningful way:  

Both were ostracized at camp half-blood because of their parentage, and so far are the only two half-bloods we know of with that experience

They are (together with Hazel) the most powerful demigods in the Riordan verse, and have feats which far surpass anyone else’s

Both are in some way afraid of their powers

Both went through Tartarus

Both have relatively similar relationships to their godly parents

Both have gone through immense trauma and loss

And if you read heroes of Olympus, it actually very much seems to build towards a final resolution of their relationship

Percy and Nico were, aside from Frank, the two people closest to Hazel; both saw her as a little sister, and Hazel treated them both like her brothers

Nico was the first person Percy met from his old life

Percy was the one, who received the visions of Nico being captured

From everyone present, Percy trusted Nico to lead the others to Greece in his moment of greatest desperation

They both had introspections about the other in house of Hades, Nico having to deal with his crush and Percy with his guilt in Tartarus

But, in the end, after they met again, nothing happened. The only scene we really got was the “You’re not my type” line and Percy being surprised by it for a couple seconds. That’s it.

We saw no meaningful conversation between the two of them, no acknowledgement of what they’ve been through together, no lasting feelings. Nothing.

In regards to their relationship, Percy acknowledging everything that Nico has been through led to nothing. Nico acknowledging his feelings for Percy and finally letting go of this pedestal he had placed him on led to nothing. You could argue that their entire relationship, which has been built up since Titan’s curse led to nothing. And considering that they are so important characters for each of their character arcs, their characterization very much suffers from this writing decision.

The two of them, together with Hazel, are my three favourite Riordan verse characters by a long shot, but some very important aspects of both of their characters fall so flat to me through this lack of a satisfying resolution.

 Both of them deserved so much better.  

They are the friendship with the most missed potential in the entirety of the Riordan verse and probably the most fleshed out and nuanced relationship Rick ever wrote.

R.I.P.  Nico di Angelo, and Percy Jackson, you will always be brothers in my mind.

[obvi-the-best-soph]

we're all bound to break. (chapter 1)

alexia putellas masterlist: here requests: here

based on this request: Hey! Got a request for a teen!fic with Barca women’s team (focus on Alexia, Mapi and Ingrid if possible). I’m a sucker for angst so would love an angsty storyline, maybe an injury or off pitch event or something!

word count: 2,375k

summary: your parents pass away 2 weeks before the champions league final, but you don't tell anyone, which of course has knock on effects.

genre: angst/hurt warnings: disordered eating, vomiting, death of parents, swearing, grief, drunk driver/car accident, alcohol, struggling alone, body dysmorphia.

chapter 2

a/n: this is my first full length fic i'm posting on here, so i hope you enjoy it. sorry if the spanish is bad, i tried lol. would love requests and feedback as this had taken me literally ages. thank youuu :)

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Ever since you were a little kid, 4 or 5, you had wanted to play for Barcelona. Your papá had taken you to nearly every game you could make it to, and you loved it. That was always a special time, just you, and papá, and football. That was how you liked it. You and papá. Of course, you loved your mamí too, more than anything, but she didn’t quite love football just as much as you, but she was always supportive and tried her best to understand. So when the contract came for the first team of Barcelona Femení, you couldn’t put pen to paper fast enough. And suddenly, papá wasn’t just coming to games to watch the team, but to watch his own pequeña princesa (little princess) play.

And you absolutely dominated too. At first, you were just another new signing for Barcelona, a young kid that would probably barely ever play and hardly ever get started, but you quickly squashed those assumptions, scoring a hattrick in your debut game, shocking Camp Nou into near silence. You celebrated every goal by making a heart with your hands over your eyes, looking through the gap, where your papá would be cheering and clapping for you. Everything you did, you did for your papá… sound familiar? Every award you had won was dedicated to him, every goal, every game, similar to your mentor and current roommate, Alexia Putellas. When you signed for Barcelona, you had needed somewhere to stay as you and your family lived just outside the city, and after Alexia had met you, she had immediately offered. So that’s where you lived, in an apartment with Alexia. And occasionally, her girlfriend Olga. 

But Alexia wasn’t the only person you’re close to, Mapi and Ingrid often hosting you for sleepovers on weekend or Friday nights. You loved Mapi, always interested in her tattoos and their stories, or the funny things she’d tell you about Alexia or Ingrid. And Ingrid was great too. 

You loved all the Barca girls really, the second you stepped foot in there, they welcomed, loved and accepted you. Especially Ona, who you had become really close to, and Lucy and Kiera were always funny when you tried to teach them Spanish. Lucy was pretty good, but Kiera could barely make her way through “¿Hola, cómo estás?” (Hello, how are you?) without stuttering or looking around for reassurance. She was teased for it a lot, but it was all in good fun. All in all, you loved it at Barcelona, and now anywhere with that team felt like home. 

This season, you have been killing it. Scoring at least one goal every game, often two. And now, you've made it to the Champions League final. 2 weeks before, you got the most devastating call of your life. 

“Is this Y/N L/N?”

“Si, who is this?”

“Uh hola, this is the Police Department of (your hometown), and we regret to inform you that both of your parents have been involved in a serious car accident, they were hit at high speed by a drunk driver. Unfortunately neither of them have survived the impact.”

The phone slipped from your hands, clattering to the floor. Everything went blurry, the tears clouding your vision, and your knees shook until you found yourself crumpled on the bathroom floor. Thankfully, Alexia and Olga had gone out for dinner that night, so you were home alone, otherwise you would’ve immediately had people at your side, and you couldn’t think of anything worse right now. 

So… what now? No more papá, no more mamí…

You didn’t know what to do. So you just sat on the kitchen floor, and cried. And cried. And cried some more. “Why did it have to be me? Why did it have to be my parents?” you thought, the stages of grief already hitting you hard. 

After another hour and a bit longer of crying, you retreated to your room. You curled up in your bed, staring off into space, thinking about all the little things you didn’t have anymore. No more hugs from mamí, no more of her cooking, no more one on one time with papá, no more childhood home to go back to, no doubt your Tia (aunt) would sell that the second her greedy, money-loving little mitts could, no more papá. No more mamí. The two people that kept your world spinning. 

You decided you weren’t going to tell any of the team about it, not yet. Maybe after the final. There were a few reasons you’d thought of, one; you didn’t want them to pity you and treat you differently, two; you didn’t want to make them worry over you anymore than they already, and three; you just couldn’t bear to actually voice the words. “My mamí and papá are dead.” It was too much, too painful. So, you just stayed silent.

You didn’t get out of bed or leave your room much anymore, unless it was for training or other football stuff. That made Alexia begin to worry, you were always happy, and cheerful and hyper and pestering the others. But now you seemed like a shell of the person you were, which was partly true. You didn’t enjoy life much anymore, you just barely managed to drag yourself out of bed each morning, no breakfast, training, then back home, and back to bed. Spending so much time in bed was something you thought to be ‘lazy’ or ‘slobbish’, although you still couldn’t manage to muster up enough energy or fucks to give to get out of it. So you began skipping meals. Not intentionally per say, but you certainly weren’t trying overly hard to eat either. 

And when you look in the mirror nowadays, in a strange, twisted way, you prefer what you saw. You look older, more mature like the other girls in the team, not the baby-faced 16 year old the public sees you to be. So you make even less effort to eat. You know you should, that an athlete starving themselves was like trying to drive a car on empty, but you simply can’t part with the new reflection you saw, the ‘beautiful’ and ‘mature’ one. 

Finally, the day of the final rolled around, and everyone was extremely hyped. The locker room was buzzing, music blasting, girls dancing around, and the atmosphere generally excited. But all you could feel was the emptiness of your stomach, the pounding in your head from the harsh drum beats of the music, the way the backs of your ankles had large red blisters from how your skin had thinned and now the bone rubbed right against the back of your cleats now, the overwhelming feeling of loneliness, knowing that neither of your parents were in the crowd. So you kept quiet, avoiding conversations unless they were completely necessary, slipping out of the locker room as soon as you had finished changing. 

You were starting today, playing up the front with Alexia. You two had become known for your chemistry on and off the pitch, goal scoring machines on it and best friends off it. Alexia had been insanely worried about you recently, living with you, she had obviously noticed your tendency to stay in bed and skip meals, she’d always push for you to eat, but you always passed it off with a “Sorry, I’m not feeling well, I think I’m just going to go to bed.” “Oh, no, gracias, I’m not hungry.”. 

You jogged onto the pitch behind Alexia, before joining the line facing out to the stadium while the National Anthems played, Alexia had her arms wrapped around my shoulders, and her firm grip and presence felt like it was just about the only thing holding you up in that moment. You refused to look at the place where your parents always sat, not being able to bear the sight of someone else sitting in their seats. 

The first whistle blew, and you played well for the first half, scoring a goal in the 26th minute after Alexia set you up for a header. You didn’t really know how to celebrate it, there was no point in doing your usual celebration, because there was no one to look through your heart hands at. You barely even smiled, letting the team just crowd around you with a group hug type thing before getting back to it. You scored again about 10 minutes into the second half, the equalizer, the score was now 2 all, but once again, you barely celebrated. Running on an empty stomach had meant that the game had drained most of your energy, and you weren’t really in the right frame of mind for playing anyway, stuffed full or starving. 

Now, it was the 89th minute, and still a draw, someone needs to score, and quick. You snapped yourself out of the hazy, barely-there headspace you’d been playing in previously. Now was not time for being floaty and sloppy, now was the time to focus. You yelled at Alexia profusely for the ball, 45 seconds on the clock. She made a shit pass, but you managed to recover it. There were 2 defenders on you, and you were barely past halfway with no support, but a quick glance at the clock and you had made up your mind.

You shot. From halfway out. It was a powerful shot, with the perfect curve and force. You watched as it flew through the air, the stadium silent, but the second the ball hit the back of the net, the noise was near unbearable. 20 seconds to go, you’d scored a hattrick, won Barcelona the final, scored from halfway out, and not even celebrated. 

3-2 to Barcelona.

The final whistle blew. All Barcelona goals had been scored by the 16 year old girl. The 16 year old girl that hadn’t eaten in 2 days, the 16 year old girl that had no family to her name but an aunt that never liked her, the 16 year old girl that had secretly been an orphan for 2 weeks, the 16 year old girl that didn’t even know what to feel anymore. 

This was your dream. Win the Champions League for Barcelona. It’d been your dream for as long as you could remember. But it didn’t mean anything now. Not without papá waving his silly flag from the stands, cheering louder than everyone else in the section, wearing your jersey, waiting with open arms when the sound of the last whistle rang through the stadium. 

You stumbled off the pitch, the exhaustion and lack of fuel to keep your body going hitting you all once. You felt weirdly light, your head spinning and vision blurry, steps uneven, like the ground was moving beneath you, like you weren’t really controlling your body.

Eventually, you got to the locker room, where there was thankfully a few sandwiches and some Powerades laying around from before the game. As much as you really, really, didn’t want to eat them, you knew you couldn’t pass out. Not now anyway. So you swallow the two sandwiches down, washing the bready taste away with the Powerade, trying hard not to think about all the carbs and calories in the meal.

You made your way back out to the pitch. But you didn’t go into the middle to celebrate with the other girls. You just plonked down a little way in from the sideline, just staring out at everything, the crowd, the girls, the losing team, the fans, the losing fans. It wasn’t like you at all. You were always in the action, partying and pestering, but now, you were intentionally avoiding it. You hid away in the dugout when you saw the team looking around for you. Their star player. “The goal scoring machine at 16”, as some fans had nicknamed you.

“Y/N? What are you doing chica? Come celebrate!” Alexia called at you from the sidelines, grinning, a slight confused furrow in her brows. 

Welp, hiding place blown you guess. You sigh and get up, painting a fake smile across your face and letting Alexia wrap her arm around your shoulder as she leads you back to where the rest of the team are, in the middle of the pitch.

“Y/N! Our little superestrella (superstar)!” Mapi yells, excitedly making her way towards you, the rest of the team rushing along behind her, wanting to celebrate you. Attention. The last thing you wanted right now, but you were being smothered in it. 

Eventually, the team retreated from the pitch, and into the locker rooms. That was okay, there was far too much alcohol and drunk women in there for you to be allowed in, being underage still. So you went home. Despite practically winning the Champions League for Barcelona, you just ordered an Uber and took yourself home, flicking Alexia a quick text to tell her you’d left.

You got back to the shared apartment and struggled your way through a shower before crashing into bed, and crying. Bawling. Sobbing. Shaking. At one point, screaming.

Over the past two weeks, you had gone through a lot of the stages of grief, but most recently, anger. 

Why? Why had it had to happen to them? What had they done so wrong that the universe needed to kill them? Why you? Why them? You couldn’t remember your last words to them either, so nowadays any time someone left, you made sure to say a real goodbye. 

You had passed out after around 2 hours of violent crying, having cried so hard at one point you’d had to lean over the bed to be sick in the wastebasket between your nightstand and the mattress. It felt good, as your mamí had always said, better out than in. It also made you feel a tiny bit better about the sandwiches earlier too.

It wasn’t until 10am the next day Alexia stumbled in the front door. She wasn’t drunk anymore, but looked insanely hungover. She cracked the door to your bedroom and looked at you. Really looked at you. 

“Superestrella, we need to talk. There’s something wrong, and you’re going to tell me what it is.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

a/n: sorry to leave it on a cliffhanger! but i just want to see how well this goes before launching into a second part. feedback would be greatly appreciated, but of course please be kind! 

requests for a part 2 (or any other requests): here

[thebigbiwolf]

Spittle - Part 1/2

Summary: The chocolate seems innocent enough - if you look past the Infernal writing on the wrapper, and with so few pleasures in the wilderness, you all but jump at the chance to sneak yourself a small treat.

Unbeknownst to you, the bar is infused with succubus spittle. Just one square is rumored to contain enough potency to send a mortal into the throes of ecstasy.

This is what happens when you eat half the bar.

Fic Tags: Sex Pollen (kinda), aphrodisiacs, succubus magic, a bit of dom!Astarion, unprotected piv, overstimulation, he talks you through it (iykyk), more tags will be added later.

Fic Warnings: Explicit Smut (18+ MDNI), Dubcon (if you squint), Language, No use of Y/N, magical influence

Read on AO3: Here

A/N: Remember the dead spider? I remember the dead spider. Anyways, the reception I've been getting on Starvin', Darlin' has me wanting to thank everyone with a one-shot. This got away from me so I went ahead and split it into two parts.

I've never written anything like this and it was significantly more difficult than a multi-chapter fic. I hope everything comes across the way its supposed to! And a huge thank you to my beta @imaginarydromedary for...you know... encouraging me to post this, despite everything.

From what you could tell, there wasn’t much to the apothecary. 

As you push open the dilapidated doors, your first thought is to search for supplies - anything that could help if things went south on your way to the goblin camp. 

Dried herbs hang from the rafters beneath a thin veil of cobwebs, filling your lungs with a pungent clash of scents. Empty bottles lined the shelves along the wall, caked in several months worth of dust. Large chunks of the building were missing where stone met splintered wood, some areas almost entirely overtaken by greenery.

You step over broken shards of pottery, scanning over the floor and countertops for something - anything that may be of use, but to your disappointment, it seems like the shop was entirely ransacked long before your arrival.

You sigh deeply, knowing you’ll likely never hear the end of this from your companions. It was your idea to search the village. You were the one who suggested taking out the goblin scouts, exerting everyones’ energy, and now you’re afraid you’ll have very little to show for it.

You catch a glint of gold, an object reflecting the sun's rays beneath a pile of rubble. You kneel down to brush away the surrounding debris, thankful for even the smallest promise of coin before your hands catch on… some sort of serrated edge?

You pull at it, and it easily comes loose. It's a thin, rectangular block, just barely larger than the length of your hand. You wipe away some of the dirt with your sleeve, revealing an intricately designed foil wrapping underneath.

As you speculate what this might be, you hear footsteps approaching from behind, light and familiar. You turn to face the elf with a smirk.

“You’re supposed to be the stealthy one.” You chide at him, playfully, “Or has my blood put a little skip in your step?”

Astarion scoffs. “I’ve been here the entire time, watching you fumble around in the dirt.” 

Crimson eyes study you, then the object you’re holding. He places his hands on his hips, head cocked to the side with a raised brow. “Is that what you’ve dragged us all the way here for?”

“First of all,” you waggle a finger at him, “You’re especially grumpy when you’re tired. I’ll have to make a note to prioritize your beauty rest. Second, I haven’t finished looking around, but check this out.”

You hand the bar to him as you stand. The cool skin of his fingers brush against your own, and you’re irritated with the way your heart skips at the brief contact. Why did the one man you found attractive in your camp have to be such a primadonna? And such a huge pain in the ass? 

Astarion’s eyes scan over the textured paper with suspicion, angling it towards the light to get a better look. The golden wrapping is stamped with an image of red lips On the back, letters twist and curve in a language you don't recognize, following a single circular pattern where they meet in the center. You’ve never seen anything like this, neither in your travels, nor within the city walls of Baldur’s Gate.

“Where did you find this?” 

You shrug, then point to the pile next to you. “It was buried right there.” 

He silently stares at the foil, mouth pursed, until your patience begins to wear thin.

“Well, can you read it or not?”

His nose scrunches. “Of course I can’t read it. It’s written in Infernal.”

That’s… odd. Why would an ordinary apothecary sell goods made by devils? Or, worse, for devils. Unless, of course, it was some sort of marketing trick, perhaps a play on the phrase ‘sinfully sweet’, or some other cringeworthy branding.

You take it back, turning it over in your hands before tearing at the corner of the wrapping. It's sectioned into dark, rich squares, and smells indisputably like chocolate.

“It looks like candy.”

“An excellent observation.” he says, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Now, can we go? We’ve spent more than enough time here already.”

You roll your eyes and stuff it into your bag, setting off for camp, vampire in tow.

–

During dinner, you decide not to tell the others about what you found, knowing Astarion’s likely already forgotten the event. You set down your empty plate, thanking Gale for tonight’s meal. He smiles at you and bids you goodnight as you excuse yourself to your tent. 

You pick up your rucksack, thinking fondly of the dessert that awaits you inside. Having lived at the beck and call of your companions for weeks on end, you can’t help but smile at the idea of selfishly indulging in a small treat like this.

You tear open the rest of the wrapping and snap off one of the squares, immediately popping one into your mouth. It melts - buttery in texture, with a smokey, slightly bitter flavor. You can’t remember the last time you’ve eaten something so rich. Maybe weeks of the same rations have made you easier to impress, but this felt especially notable.

As you break off a second piece, a strange tingling sensation begins to spread across your lips - a pleasant buzzing that starts at your neck and spreads down through your chest. 

Strange, but not entirely unwelcome. You’ve heard of such inebriating chocolates, ones laced with alcohol or species of flowers that numb one’s senses for a short while. All harmless, of course, and you don’t have watch tonight. You may as well enjoy yourself. If worst comes to worst, Shadowheart is just outside with an assortment of spells and potions. Always better to ask for forgiveness.

It only takes you minutes to finish half the bar. You set the rest next to your bedroll for later and turn to blow out your candles, enjoying the lingering physical effects of the chocolate. Your skin feels flushed and delightfully warm as you settle down for the night.

When sleep finally takes you, it's dreamless, at first. Your consciousness sways, floating in an empty abyss, until colors begin to bleed onto the blank canvas of your mind.

A trickle of red morphs into the shape of familiar eyes, piercing you with their intensity..

Droplets of white spatter over a dark background, diffusing, blending into whisps. They curl and twist before settling into soft, coiffed fibers. 

Hair , you recognize immediately, his hair . His eyes.

Astarion. 

His image fully takes form, as if it had been waiting for you to make the connection before entirely revealing itself. 

He reaches out and seizes you, grabbing painfully at your hips as you crash into his body, hands exploring you - tight, possessive, squeezing at every inch of exposed skin before settling on the curve of your ass. He digs into your flesh with the blunt edge of his nails.

His lips press hot, wet kisses to your throat, mouthing just below the ear, before dragging his tongue along your nape and sucking, hard . You whine at the pressure, eliciting a grin from the elf, so characteristically pleased with the pathetic little noise he’s managed to pull from you.

“You thought sleeping would allow you to escape this - to escape me , unscathed?” He growls against your skin, his voice almost unrecognizable - as if it’s layered beneath a lighter, somehow more arrogant, feminine one.

“No, no, no. Wake up, darling. You’re in for a very long night.”

–

You startle awake, gasping - loud, labored breaths struggling to make use of the unbearably thin air. The edges of your tent bleed in and out of focus, spinning at a nauseating pace as you attempt to recollect yourself.

You wipe at the sweat collecting on your brow, the muscles of your arm heavy and aching, and find that your skin is absolutely drenched. 

Hot. Why is everything so hot? 

It's as if you're being cooked alive beneath your blankets, strangled beneath the furs. You throw them off; normally soft to the touch, the fibers now only worsen the prickling beneath your skin.

Could this be some sort of illness? A fever? 

No, this doesn’t make sense. Everything feels off. 

Fleeting thoughts of Astarion cross your mind - quick flashes of a sinful smile that was not his own.

It didn’t quite match the one you’d silently come to admire, and now that you think of it, the hunger in his gaze was much too intense for the reserved elf. 

His hands, his mouth, the way he touched you -

Your abdomen cramps, bringing your thoughts to a screeching halt.

A stabbing, visceral pain; a knife plunging into your organs. It overwhelms you, forces your body to curl into itself. You hold your pelvis, grunting, and grasp at your sheets. Tears sting the corner of your eyes.

This is - well, you have no idea what this is. 

You can’t think past the pounding in your head, the throbbing in your midsection. You're compulsively twisting, writhing, begging the gods for some sort of reprieve, but it's then when you make the most mortifying discovery of the night.

You’re soaked .

N ot just your smallclothes, which may have been understandable given your strange dreams, but through your damned pants. Not even the sheets were spared. 

“What  in the hells…?” 

You run your fingers over yourself, only intending to confirm the horrifying reality of your situation - that this is not, in fact, some sick, perverted nightmare, but the lightest touch sets off every nerve. 

You wail at the sensation: one massive wave of bliss giving way to several small jolts of pain. 

Pleasure to the point of agony.

The shock of the sudden orgasm courses from your sex through every limb, clenching and releasing pitiful, warm slick. It leaks freely out of you into your already thoroughly ruined underwear. 

Your heart pounds. You stay like that for what feels like a lifetime, toes curled, limbs twitching, waiting for your body to settle. 

After a minute or so, your breathing evens, and the thick haze surrounding your thoughts begins to lift just slightly, along with the suffocating heat. 

But something within you knows this isn’t the end - knows this isn’t enough . A desperation lurks beneath the surface that you can’t quite name. It screams at you. You need more.

‘Aw…’ A familiar, feminine voice prods at your mind. You quickly recognize her, the woman from your dreams who wore Astarion’s image.  

‘All alone, are we? Empty and needing to be filled? Doesn’t that hurt?’

It does. It aches unlike anything you’ve ever known. The lingering buzz of your orgasm just barely quells the worsening cramps, and they’re beginning to rear their ugly head again not minutes later.

You choke out a sob. “Wh- why are you doing this? What do you want?”

Sharp, wicked laughter fills your head, echoing off the walls of your skull. ‘I’m not doing anything, dear. Just enjoying the show.’ She hisses, ‘I told you, it’s going to be a very long night.’

You must be hallucinating. This fever - whatever this is, is simply cauterizing your senses, or possibly interacting with the tadpole? But the tadpole doesn’t speak, not like this. Never so clearly. Not with words.

Think, please. There has to be a reason this -

“Is everything alright?” Shadowheart raps on the canvas of your tent. “I heard a yelp. Are you hurt?”

Shit.

‘Ooh, this one might do!’  You feel an unwelcome… eagerness flood you.

No. No. Absolutely not.

You try not to panic. 

Under no circumstances should she or anyone else come in here.

The best strategy may be to ignore her - pretend you’re still sleeping. It seems like a good plan, but before you have a chance to follow through with it, another sharp contraction hits. This one is somehow even worse than the ones before. 

You pull your sheets up to your mouth to stifle your whine, but the half elf’s ears are sharper than most. “I’m coming in.”

She opens the flap to your tent and gasps when she sees you there - skin flushed pink, doubled over and covered in sweat. 

“Gods, what’s wrong? What’s happened?” Her hand reaches out towards you. 

Without thinking, you swat it away with your own. Your skin tingles at the contact, and the essence of a smile crosses over the threshold into your mind. The intruder giggles with satisfaction.

“Don’t,” you plead, “Don’t touch me.”

She scans over you, taking in your humiliating state. Her face twists with concern. “I need to know if you’re feverish. Please. You look awful.” 

‘Well, I think you look delectable.’

You groan.

At this point, you know it’s no use fighting this thing on your own. You go back and forth on whether you want to tell her the whole truth, about the voice in your head and its influence on your body, but the idea mortifies you into silence. 

Regardless, a cleric is likely your best chance of fixing this literal mess, so you nod, close your eyes, and brace yourself.

Shadowheart’s palm meets your forehead. It’s somehow worse than you anticipated. Even the simple, chaste touch sends you reeling, as if her soft hands are caressing your entire body. Flashes of heat wash over you, burning your skin, threatening to pull you back under another wave of ecstasy. 

It’s too much. You try your hardest to suppress a moan, but the muffled sound manages to escape from between your tightened lips, pitiful and broken.

The disembodied voice squeals with delight.

She quickly retracts her hand, clearing her throat. “Apologies. I can confirm your temperature is… elevated, but the rest…” She shakes her head. “I’ve never seen anything like this.”

You want to scream, cry - anything to release your frustration, but you keep your mouth shut, not wanting to risk making any more unsavory noises.

“I believe I can give you some relief by treating the fever, but I’ll have to consult the others on the rest. This doesn’t look like any ordinary sickness.”

Consult the others? No. Gods, no. Nobody can know about this. Is she mad?

You intend to protest, beg her not to share this with anyone, tell her whatever death awaits you on the other side of this would be preferable, but she’s speaking an incantation before you have the chance.

A bright, green aura envelopes you, cooling your skin and ever so slightly easing the cramps. With the pain dulled, it's as though you can finally think again. 

You want to laugh. This situation is so utterly ridiculous that you’d find it hilarious, were it anyone else, but with the modicum of relief comes exhaustion - eyelids heavy, vision blurring with weariness.

“Get some rest. We’ll figure this out.” 

Her reassuring words are the last thing you hear before you’re overcome by darkness.

[doitforbangchan]

All Bark and No Bite 11

Masterlist /Series masterlist

Chan x reader (y/n) x ot8

ABO!Nonidol!SKZ Alternate Universe

Previous - Next

Series Warnings: Fem reader, Smut, verryyyy nsfw, chan x reader, OT8 x reader, A/B/O, m/m/f smut, possessive! SKZ, possessive! Reader, anxiety and depression, reader is a CRYBABY, fluff, angst, virgin!reader,  cursing, violence, pet names, dom/sub dynamics, Sub reader x mostly dom SKZ, misogyny and sexism, Ateez are depicted as terrible people (sorry Atiny!) 

Chapter warnings: Smut, unprotected sex (p in v), kissing, suggestive, crying, cursing, fingering, biting, hair pulling, dubcon?, subspace, HardDom!Chan, SoftDom!Felix, fluff, angst, anxiety, manipulation, unbalanced power dynamics, and probably more but idk let me know This one ain't as sweet as the last few

WC:6.8k

In a strange turn of events, it seems Chan woke up before you did this time. Not that you were complaining; especially when you awoke to him running his warm fingers over your mating mark absentmindedly, feeling the indented skin. Every little touch felt like electricity coursing through you, as if the zaps were bringing you back to life. Overall it was a very pleasant way to wake up. 

His hand that wasn’t touching your neck had his phone and he was listening to music with one ear bud in his ear on a low volume. You let out a low ‘hm’ letting him know you were awake now. 

“Good morning, my omega.” Chans voice was raspy from sleep. He must have only just woken up not long ago himself. He didn’t say anything else, just held you tighter.

Moments like this were Chan's favorite. Being able to wake up to you; his mate, his omega, the love of his life - there was nothing better. He hadn’t realized how lonely he had been before having you here. He never felt as complete as he did right in this moment. 

“Can I listen with you?” You mumbled sleepily. You wanted to hear what your alpha listened to. Wordlessly he took his other earbud and slipped it into your own ear. ‘Give me love’ By Ed sheeran was playing through the bud, the sweet melodies flooding your senses. 

‘Give a little time to me or burn this out

We'll play hide and seek to turn this around

All I want is the taste that your lips allow

My, my, my, my, oh give me love’

It had been so long since you had heard this song, you used to sing this all the time in your room when you were younger and waiting to fall hopelessly in love. It felt fitting that now you were here laying in bed with your soulmate, who you had fallen hopelessly in love with. 

Chan began to sing along softly to the music playing, serenading you quietly.

‘Maybe I should let you go

You know I'll fight my corner

And that tonight I'll call ya

After my blood is drowning in alcohol

No I just wanna hold ya’

The alpha squeezed you a little tighter after he sang those words, pressing a kiss to the side of your head. Your heart fluttered at the action. The two of you laid there together for probably an hour, just enjoying each other's company while he sang each song that played.

Eventually though, you both had to get up as there was work to be done. For Chan anyways. You had to make breakfast and get ready to leave with Jisung and Felix. Chan had a lot to do today himself. He had been neglecting his actual job in his family business and if he was going to take another day off tomorrow to go camping then he definitely needed to make all his calls and emails today. 

“Are you excited to do more shopping with the betas today?” the alpha asked as you were both getting out of bed. 

“Yes. I am.” You seemed apprehensive. 

“Buuuuut?” He pressed, knowing something was troubling you. 

“I just.. Feel bad.. About spending more of your money. I didn’t do anything to deserve you guys spending all this money on me.”  You were avoiding eye contact with him as you went to brush your teeth. 

Chan stopped you before you could enter his bathroom, arm out to block you. “Baby.” you kept your head down not wanting to look at him, now that you had embarrassed yourself again. When you didn’t acknowledge him he let out a frustrated growl, “Omega, look at me now.” you had no choice but to look at him, he used a command on you.

 You were lucky that was all he did, he had wanted to grip your hair and make you look at him forcefully. Chan had a problem when people didn’t listen to him, especially his omega.  Some would say he thrives off of non-sexual dominance. They would be correct. The alpha was used to getting his way practically his whole life. He would forgive you now, you were still learning. 

Instead of yanking your hair he settled for petting it softly. “I’m sorry my love, I didn’t intend to be mean to you.” At his gentle words and even gentler touch you forgot about the command being used on you, leaning into his hand. “You need to understand that my money is your money. In fact this whole packs money is yours to spend as you please. The other boys would agree with me. Ok?”  He waited for your words of agreement and when they didn’t come he egged them on. “You wanna be good for us right? Good omegas listen to their alphas.” 

You wanted to be good for him so badly, really it’s all you wanted. There was a glimpse of panic on your face at the prospect of upsetting your mate. “ I’ll be good! I promise!” You nodded rapidly. 

He gave you his signature boyish grin, dimples on display, then leaned in and gave you a kiss, nipping your lip as he pulled back. “I know you will, Baby. You’re the best Omega I know.” You purred at his praise, finding it addicting. “We gotta get a move on, lots to do today if we’re going camping tomorrow.” He let you go into the bathroom to do your business and such. 

You went to pick out an outfit for today, deciding to sport some jean shorts and a basic black tank top. After that you had a quick shower and did light makeup. Simple but you felt cute nonetheless. 

When you both finally made your way down to the main floor you found Minho and Changbin sat at the kitchen island making a list of what you would need for camping tomorrow. More like Minho had roped Changbin into helping him because the beta was a planner and liked to have things ready. 

“Finally! Hyung needs help deciding what to do for food  tomorrow and Saturday morning. Any suggestions?” Changbin exclaimed as he saw Chan, giving the older alpha pleading eyes. 

“Good morning to you too Changbin. Oh I slept great, thanks for asking.” Chan quipped sarcastically, and Changbin rolled his eyes with a groan of annoyance. 

“Good morning, baby. How did you sleep?” The younger alpha asked you, trying to get on his Hyungs nerves. He cackled when it worked, Chan letting out a huff. 

You giggled, “Morning, Binnie. I slept wonderfully. Thank you for asking.” 

“Yeah yeah good morning whatever, can we get back to this now?” Minho was getting frustrated, “We literally only have right now to think about this.” 

“Fine.” Changbin reached forward and grabbed you by the hips, laughing when you squealed, and setting you on his lap. “What do you think, baby? Any suggestions?” 

You leaned back against Changbins chest,  feeling the muscles behind you, head on his shoulder while you pondered. “Do you think we should do easy things? Like maybe bring a bunch of premade stuff like sandwiches and maybe breakfast burritos for the morning we can just wrap in foil and throw on the grill?” 

“That sounds like a great idea, omega.” Chan replied, leaning on the counter opposite you. 

“Yeah! To make it even easier we can place an order for them and pick them up from the diner in town before we leave tomorrow morning.” Changbin agreed, tickling your sides mercifully. He kissed the side of your head when you giggled at him, ignoring the throbbing in his pants caused by your squirming. “Smarty pants.” 

Minho nodded in agreement, writing down how many of each he approximated you would all need. “Ok so twenty of each.” 

“Twenty?! Why twenty of each, there are only nine of us!” You objected confused, looking at Minho as if he had grown a second head.

“Have you not seen how much these guys eat? Changbin himself could probably put away half of them if you’d let him.” He was looking back at you as if you were the crazy one. 

“Hey!” Changbin protested but didn’t fight too hard, knowing Minho was right. 

“Yeah Bin, you’ll probably end up eating both of yours and the rest of Felix’s like you always do.” Chan poked fun at the younger alpha. 

“What are we talking about? I heard my name.” right on queue Felix walked into the room you were all in. 

“We’re talking about the plans for tomorrow, trying to get things taken care of.” Minho sighed, standing from his seat. “Speaking of which, I need to make calls for these orders to be picked up in the morning and then get the other stuff together.” He seemed stressed as he walked away. 

“Is he ok?” You asked, worried for the beta. 

“Oh yeah he's fine, Min is a planner and likes to get things done in advance. He’s probably going to find Innie to make him help get all the camping stuff out of the garage.” Chan answered, taking an apple off the counter and taking a bite. 

At the sight of his apple you remembered your task, “ Do you guys want breakfast?” You went to hop down from Changbins lap but he only held you tighter against him, refusing to let you go. 

“Ji should be back any second with pasties and coffee. He wanted to surprise you baby. Annnnd now i’ve ruined it, fuck.” Felix cursed, looking remorseful at having spoiled the fun. 

Chan clicked his tongue in mock disappointment, shaking his head. “Way to go, Felix.” 

“Hey leave him alone, he's just a boy!” Changbin defended the beta playfully, you leaning into him and huffing in agreement. 

“Did somebody say Jisung?!?” A loud voice came from the front door, almost an announcement of his presence. A moment later the boy in question came sauntering in, sunglasses still over his eyes and holding a tray of coffee and a bag of pastries. 

“No.” Changbin laments, “Go away.” 

“Fine I guess you don’t want the cherry tart I got especially for you, Binnie.” Jisung made a show of wafting the bag up to his nose, “Mmmmm all for me then. Here is yours, my baby. A sweet treat for an even sweeter girl.” He handed you a chocolate croissant and a coffee. 

You felt your face heat up as you accepted the pastry. “Thank you Ji.” When Binnie was distracted making grabby hands at the bag that jisung had set down, you took the opportunity to slip off his lap. 

“Anything for you.” He grabbed your hand and yanked you closer to him. “Anyways, let's get this show on the road!” with his coffee in one hand and you in the other he set off towards the door. Chan held out a credit card for Jisung who happily snatched it. “Make sure she gets something nice. Our girl seems to have a problem with spending my money.” He winked at you as you passed. 

“Oh you know I have no problem spending daddy's money.” The beta cackled. 

“Wait for me!” Felix called, scooping his own items and following you out. 

“Bye baby!” Changbin yelled, crumbs flying out of his mouth. 

“Have a good time, omega.” 

“Bye Channie bye Binnie!” You called as you were going out the door.

To say Eun was happy to see you again was an understatement. The second you walked into her shop she had a tight grip on you, hugging the life outta you. The older woman was unable to hold back tears at the sight of the bite mark on your neck, wailing about how happy she was for you and Chan and that the alpha couldn’t be luckier to have landed such a fantastic omega. You had reassured her you were in fact the lucky one. 

It took another half an hour of chatting with her before she finally brought you out some swimsuits to try on. You had picked out a few modest one pieces for yourself but her and the boys suggested (demanded) you try on their picks first, an array of bikinis. You had never worn a bikini before so trying them on and modeling them was making you nervous. 

You had chosen a basic white one to start. You figured you would start plain and work up to getting more comfortable. You thought it was cute but knew it wouldn't be the one.  Thus began you trying a few different ones until you found one you liked. It had been almost 20 minutes since you had gone into the dressing room and the beta boys were getting antsy waiting for you to come out. 

“Everything alright in there, baby?” The deep honey tones of Felix's voice called out to you. 

“Y-yeah.” you stuttered, debating whether or not to come out. “I’ve never- never worn a bikini before and I’m a little nervous.” you admitted. 

“If you’re really not comfortable you can try something else, we won’t be mad or disappointed.” He reassured you. 

You felt better at his words, taking a deep breath before pulling back the curtain and revealing yourself. 

Both Jisung and Felix felt their eyes widen and hearts stop at the sight of you. You had decided on a little purple bikini with stars on it. It was so you. The swimsuit fits you like a glove and goes perfectly with your skin tone. 

They both had been too busy admiring you to say anything and in turn their silence made you self conscious. “I knew this was a bad idea.” You mumbled, covering yourself with your arms and going to shuffle back into the fitting room.

“NO!” they yelled in unison looking at you in panic now. Felix tried to compose himself but Jisung did not, falling to the floor at your feet. 

“I’m sorry baby! You look so, so good we couldn’t help but stare!” He pleaded, his heart thumping wildly. 

Felix nodded in agreement, now more embarrassed than anything at his fellow betas' antics. 

“ Please don’t turn away from us. We didn’t mean to make you feel any negativity. We love the suit. It fits you so well!” 

“Really? You’re not just saying that to make me feel better?” You asked skeptically, still covering yourself. 

“Baby, my baby, omega, believe me when I say this, if you don’t get that swimsuit I will literally drop dead.” Jisung was so serious from his place on the floor, not one hint of deception on his face. “I simply cannot go on living any longer knowing I will never again get to see your beauty in this bikini - which was made for you by the way- and soon I'll die. In fact even hearing you say it was a bad idea almost killed me on the spot.”

“Oh don’t be so damn dramatic!” Eun called out walking up to the three of you. “But you do look fantastic in that one, Y/n. It would be a real crime if you didn’t get it.” She winked. 

It seemed all three betas were rooting for this one so it seemed your fate was sealed. 

“I-if you’re all sure…” You trailed off, letting your arms fall to your sides now. 

“Never been more sure about anything, sweetheart.” Felix gave you his charming smile. 

You hummed, “Fine. I’ll get this one.” There was a round of cheers then Eun went to ring you up, adding a few more pieces she thought would suit you. 

Felixs’ big errand was buying blue hair dye. Apparently he used to have blue hair but it's been a while and he’s ready to feel like himself again. He was too precious. You wondered if Chan would be ok with you dying your hair, figuring it wouldn't hurt to ask. Jisung tried to convince you to get some purple dye anyway and not tell him but you were too chicken shit to do something like that. 

“Do you wanna help me dye mine, baby? I would love your company.” Felix asked you, crinkling his eyes at you. 

Pulling back up to the house you found Jeongin, Minho and Seungmin outside putting some large camping items in the back of a truck. By the looks of it they had already loaded a grill and a few tents. Minho sure didn’t waste time. “There you are, now you can help too.” He eyed the younger boys. 

“Actually y/n and I have a few things to do.” Felix grabbed your hand as you got out of the car, his other hand holding your bags. “Sungie would love to help you tho, i'm sure.”

“What?! Traitor!” Jisung complained but was quick to change his tune when Min gave him the evil eye. “I mean, yay packing.” 

“We all have to do our part. You included.” Jeongin snickered, handing the beta a bag to put in the car. “At least you didn’t have to make a store run like Hyun and Bin hyung.” 

“This was your idea! You should be doing all the work!” 

Felix pulled you along into the house, quickly to go undetected “come on before they rope us into helping.” he whispered. 

Both of you went up the stairs into Felix's bathroom after you dropped your bags off in your room. Passing Chan's office you could faintly hear the alpha in there on the phone, probably talking with a client. The fact that he works so hard so his pack could have the life they live was astounding. Chan really was a great alpha. 

Entering the bathroom Felix reached under the sink for plastic gloves for you to use, and set up the dye. You had helped your old best friend dye her hair a few times so the process was familiar to you. Thankfully his hair was already bleach blonde so you didn’t have to worry about trying to bleach it.  

You loved spending time with Felix. Really you loved any one on one time with the boys but you and Felix hadn’t spent time like this since your first day. That felt like so long ago when in reality had only been over a week. They say time flies when you're spending it with your loved ones. 

You were discussing what you wanted to plant in the greenhouse when you came back from camping. Cucumbers, pumpkins and peppers were at the top of your list, while Felix requested some carrots and spinach if you could find the room. In only a few hours you had finished dying his hair and had just helped him wash out the dye. He had chosen a beautiful blue for his hair. It seemed to compliment him perfectly. Now it seemed like he was representing who he truly was, with his hair being a clear sky and he himself was the sun. 

“You’re all finished! It looks so good on you Lix!” You were enthused, pleased with the finished product. 

“All thanks to you baby.” He pulled a blow dryer from under the sink and plugged it in. “Now I'm gonna dry it. Do you wanna help me style it?” Felix really just wanted to be around you more, he wanted to be selfish if only for a while. 

“Sure Lixie.” you beamed, reaching for the dryer. You were sitting on the bathroom counter while Felix stood directly in front of you. You turned it on a low setting and grabbed a brush in your other hand,  he leaned closer to you and came to stand between your legs.

 You began to dry and style his hair, neither of you saying anything now but it not being uncomfortable. In fact it was pleasant. Being close with him reminded you of the kiss he shared with you last night.  Not you nor he had brought up the kiss, and he also hadn’t kissed you since. ‘Maybe he regretted kissing me’ the thought weighed heavy on your mind. 

Little did you know it was the exact opposite. The only thing on Felix's mind right now was kissing you. He was just worried you hadn’t liked it since you didn’t say anything about it, but you also weren’t acting any different. He was so close to you he could almost taste you, remembering the way your lips did even for that brief moment. 

You finished with his hair and set down the tools on the countertop beside you. You were still facing him, afraid to break the silence or to move from your place in front of him. All you could do was focus on each other. 

Slowly and timidly, Felix leaned closer to you. You could feel his breath on your face and his scent get even stronger, and Felix gingerly let his lips find yours. Your eyes closed on instinct as you pressed yours to his in return. 

‘Finally’ your inner voice said. 

When Felix felt you reciprocate his kiss he let out a small whimper, you wouldn’t have even heard it if you weren’t so close to him. His hands fell to your waist and he shuffled even closer to you when you parted your legs further to allow him to make the connection between you. Your own hands were on his shoulders. 

The beta didn’t go any further and settled for what you were giving him. He wanted to go at your pace, afraid he would do something to scare you off. While you did enjoy his kiss it suddenly was not enough for you so you took the initiative to gently run your tongue along his lip. When he felt your tongue he whimpered again this time a little louder. His sounds were doing something to you and without thinking you rolled your hips against his. 

When your pelvis made contact with his it’s like the damn broke for him and he let the niceties fall. Felix started to ravage your mouth now with his own tongue, his hands gripping you tighter and his own hips doing a roll. Your breath caught in your throat as a quiet moan escaped your lungs. 

He held you like that for a while, you both basically dry humping on the counter and tasting each other's mouths. Eventually it was becoming too much for the beta, he knew he would cum in his pants soon and he did not want to do that in front of you. He pulled back from your lips , only a few inches apart. 

“Do you want to go further with me, baby?” He prayed you said yes. You had him so worked up he didn’t think jerking off would suffice anymore. 

“Please, Lixie. Wanna feel you.” 

Fuck 

That was all he needed to lift you from the counter onto your feet, then he grabbed the bottom of your tank top and pulled it off of you. He groaned at the sight of your lace bra. You made grabby hands at his own shirt and pulled it over his head. 

Felix was so defined. He was so tiny the thought had never even crossed your mind that he could also be ripped. You didn’t have much time to stare before he was turning you around to face the mirror with his hands on your hips and lips on your neck as he locked eyes with you in the mirror. “Can I take you like this, Baby? Let me see all of you?” He let a hand creep up your back to the clasp on your bra, but not yet taking it off. 

You nodded, and answered “Uh huh. Yes lixie.” You were so ready for him. Honestly you had been wet since before you styled his hair. You would be surprised if Felix somehow didn't notice the sickly sweet pheromones that were draining out of you.

Felix unclasped your bra  with nimble fingers and let it fall away from you. “Oh my god you're so beautiful.” He groaned out when he saw your bare chest. That same hand came to the front of your body and found your right breast, his thumb coming up to rub over your nipple. Now it was your turn to moan out, leaning closer to his chest. “Put your hands on the counter in front of you, baby.” 

You did so without complaint and put your palms flat on the surface. He fondled your chest for a few minutes, taking in all the little sighs and moans you would let out as he watched your expressions in the mirror, finding it addicting. When you pushed your ass back into his crotch he let out an almost silent growl, nipping into the skin on your neck that he had been kissing. Suddenly he released you and went to the waistband of your pants, yanking them down your legs with no warning taking your underwear with them. 

Felix didn’t know what was overtaking him but he didn’t mind it. He was never this assertive when having sex but something about you made him want to take control. Whether it was your omega status or just your submissive nature in general he couldn’t be sure. Probably a combination of both. You certainly were not complaining, liking this sudden dominant side of the man. 

The beta pulled down his own pants and underwear next, eager to have the constricting material off. There you both were, naked and breathing heavy in anticipation. Your eyes were locked in the mirror as Felix reached under both of you and his fingers found your bundle of nerves. You gasped when he touched the sensitive area, eyes closing only for a second. He could feel just how drenched you were for him. 

It was at this point that Felix realized he did not have a condom in here.’ Are you fucking kidding me?’ he momentarily chastises himself. “Ummm baby?” you hummed in response, waiting in anticipation. “I sorta don’t have a condom…” 

“Oh.” you froze. “Th-then we can, umm, maybe we should stop.” 

“Do you want to stop?” He desperately did not want to, he literally didn’t know if he could at this point. 

“N-no but Chan and the doctor said-” 

“But I can pull out.” He eagerly proposed, he had never been a rule breaker but right now he really did not give a shit. Consequences be damned. “Come on omega, it’ll feel so good.”

“I don’t know, lix…” You trailed off, unsure. "Channie wouldn't like it.." You didn’t want to disobey but one look at his pleading face behind you and you gave in. “If you promise to pull out…” 

“I promise,” he said immediately. You nodded hesitantly giving him the go ahead as you readied yourself against the counter once more. "God, you are so hot."

The beta placed a kiss to your neck before taking his member in his hand and lining up with your entrance. He hadn’t prepped you like he should have but honestly when you were both that desperate that was the farthest thing from his mind. He let the tip run through your slick that had accumulated to make it an easier entry. Felix slowly pushed into you from behind, the stretch of him leaving a slight burn and you lightly hissed at the intrusion. 

Felix on the other hand was in heaven. He had never felt so incredible from one push but fuck you were so tight.  “Fuck omega, your pussy is so tight, nnggg oh my god I don’t know how I'll be able to move, fuck baby.” Felix couldn’t shut up as he filled you. His words were helping you though, as he stopped moving to let you adjust while he mumbled. 

Between his jumbled (what you assumed were) praising words he laid sloppy kisses to your bare shoulders, his saliva leaving wetness along your skin. You were absolutely reeling; between feeling him within you and his total personality flip that left you with whiplash, your brain was turning into a muddled mess. It got even worse when he started rutting into you from behind, his hips grinding harshly against your ass.

His chest pushed you further into the counter and with the new angle his cock hit something deep inside you. Your back arched as you moaned aloud, your head falling forward in your ecstasy. 

“F-fuuckk baby, you are so good f’ me. So so good, oh my god.” his deep voice was getting raspier by the second. Felix reached his hand around, his small fingers finding your clit again and rubbing sloppy circles.  His other hand went to your breast and massaged your sensitive skin. “Look at me, baby, please look at me.” 

You mustered all your willpower to bring your head up as much as you could, looking through your wet lashes to his gaze in the mirror. He looked absolutely wrecked, his eyes glossed over as he drooled on you. At the sight of him, fucked out because of you, you felt your orgasm approaching and approaching fast. “F-felix ‘m gonna- gonna cum.” 

“Please cum for me. I need you to cum for me.” He sped up his thrusts, humping into you desperately. He was close to. The pulsing of his dick within you sent you over the edge, and you came with a loud cry of his name. 

The squeezing of your heat on his member was enough for him. The beta knew he wouldn’t be able to pull out in time but he still tried, cumming half inside and the rest on your ass. The second he came his urges took over completely and without a warning, his teeth embedded themselves in your shoulder blade. When his teeth made contact in your skin you moaned as another orgasm washed over you. 

You both were panting hard, you with tears cascading down your cheeks and Felix with your blood on his lips. It took you a moment to catch both of your breaths, the severity of what had happened finally registering in both of your minds. 

“Felix…” 

“Yeah” 

“You came in me.”

“Yeah”

“Do you think Chan will be mad?”

“Yep”

“Oh. Did you mean to bite me?” 

“Um, n-no.” He stammered, “ It had been on my mind since a few days ago when Chan said we could.” 

‘Chan had said that?’ 

“But I didn't really expect to.” He grabbed a towel and began to wipe up the dripping mess he made on your skin.  “I guess now is a good time to tell you that I'm kinda in love with you.” he chuckled nervously. 

You spun around at his confession, not really shocked. You were able to feel his emotions when he bit down on you. It wasn’t as intense as when Chan bit into you - given he is an alpha and he bit your mating gland - but you could still sense the betas to an extent. “Felix…” you let more salty tears trail down your face. “I…I kinda love you too.” 

Now he was crying, unable to contain his emotions and he fell into your embrace. Both of you were just little crybabies. Maybe that is why you got on so well together. It was easy to be vulnerable with him. 

It was easy with Felix. So you both just hugged, and whispered to each other there in the bathroom.  Both dreading the storm that was your alpha. 

Sometime later after you had both redressed and Felix cleaned the wound on your shoulder, you both exited the bathroom. You shared a final kiss before parting ways. Felix going down the stairs and you going into Chan's office. The guilt was going to eat you alive if you didn’t tell him (assuming he couldn’t smell it on you when you came in). 

You heard more faint talking so you knocked and waited. You heard him thank whoever he was talking to and hang up. “Come on in,  baby.” He called out to you. You opened his door slowly and saw him sitting at his desk. His nostrils flared when you entered his office. 

Chan obviously knew what you were doing with Felix, but he didn’t know the dirty secret you were keeping. Upon your entry into his office you were emitting a scent you hadn’t produced in a few days; intense guilt. 

“What’s wrong, omega?” He immediately questioned you, reaching his hands out for you. When he noticed your hesitancy to grab his hand he stood from his seat and rested his hands on your shoulders, bending to be eye level with you. “Did something happen? Did Felix do something to you?” 

“No!” you answered quickly. “I mean, not really.” 

“Then what's wrong? You can't keep secrets from me, I can smell it on you.” 

You looked down to the floor shamefully before giving him an answer. “When Felix and I were..intimate, he sorta.. He didn’t wear anything… and he umm he kinda came in me a little bit..” Your heart was pounding out of your chest when you saw the hardened look in the alphas face, his eyes darkening at your admittance. 

“Is that so?” He seemed eerily calm, if you knew anything about alphas it’s that they are prone to rage so the fact that he didn’t immediately lash out was kind of scary to you. Little did you know he was furious. 

“I’m really sorry, Channie. I-i know i wasn’t supposed to but-” 

“Go to our room.” He interrupted you, removing his hands from you. 

“W-what?” 

He let out a low growl, “Go. to. Our. room. Omega, now.” 

You gave him a look of alarm at his menacing tone, but still scurried out of his office and to his room. You shut the door softly and then sat on the bed, awaiting your fate. You hadn’t seen Chan angry yet, you didn’t know what to expect. He didn’t strike you as the type to scream and throw things like your father had been, but to be fair you had only known him for just over a week. 

After about ten minutes Chan walked through the door into the space you occupied. He still had that intimidating demeanor but he seemed to be keeping his cool. He skipped the formalities as he spoke to you though, “ Take off your clothes and get in the shower.” 

You stood from your seated position and started to strip, gently placing your clothes down in the hamper before slowly making your way to the bathroom. The whole time he just watched you as if you were a prey animal, and he was the big bad wolf.  

Once you turned on the water to his shower it only took a moment for it to get hot and you entered the shower. It was a spacious area, with sliding glass and a shower head that rained down from the ceiling. Any other time you would have found solace in the luxurious bathroom, but right now all you felt was anxious. 

Chan didn’t say anything as he slipped into the shower with you a few moments later. In fact he hadn’t said anything at all as he helped you wash your hair, he only shushed you when you went to speak. It wasn’t until he grabbed a loofa and began rubbing down your body from behind with it that he spoke. “ This is a nice bite mark here on your shoulder. Did Felix do that to you?” You went to nod in response but that wasn’t what the alpha was looking for, and he used one hand to reach onto the base of your head and gripped your hair tightly, causing you to let out a squeak. “I asked you a question, omega, and I expect an answer.” 

“Yes, yes Alpha he did.” You gasped out, falling quickly into an uncharted subspace. Your inner omega only wanted to please your alpha now. His actions and words were shocking to you, he wasn’t being the Chan you knew him to be. You had seen small glimpses here and there but never to this extent.

“Did he bite you while he was cumming inside of you?” His grip on your hair tightened in one hand while his other brought the loofa down between your legs. 

“Yes alpha.” You tilted your head back trying to get some slack but it proved pointless. 

“Do you remember the conversation we had with the doctor yesterday, omega?” He knew you did, or else you wouldn’t have come to him so guiltily. 

“Yes I re-remember” You stuttered, your insides fluttering with both excitement and anxiety. 

“What did he say to us about when having sex?” His lips were kissing your injured skin on your shoulder where your new bite mark resided. 

“To-to use protection until my results come in and I can go on-on birth control.” your panting was getting stronger as you tried to forget about the pain on your scalp. 

“Mm that is right, baby.” chans tongue dug into your injured skin, causing you to let out a quiet cry. “Ya know what the rule was and still deliberately did otherwise. What am I going to do with you?”  It was a rhetorical question meant to tease you. You started to cry at his words. 

“ m’ so sorry Alpha. Please don’t be angry. M’ sorry.” He leaned over to lick up the salty tears that were coming down steadily now. 

“Oh baby, I know you're sorry. Alpha knows.” you perked up slightly but it all came crashing down when he said his next words, “But just because you're sorry doesn’t mean there are no consequences.” 

He dropped the sponge to the ground and that hand grabbed both of your wrists holding them together behind your back and pushing you against the cold tile, your chest smushing against the wall. “Ahh Chan!”

“Spread your legs. Let me in there, omega.” you did as he said, and he wasted no time in rubbing the tip of his cock along your sensitive folds. “Funny enough, I had just talked to the doctor on the phone before you came into my office, stinking like guilt and cum.” The alpha pressed you harder against the tile. “And it turns out you wouldn’t even be able to get pregnant right now, those suppressants  are running crazy all over your body and hormones.”

 Without warning he pushed into your heat, your sore walls engulfing him completely. He was so big. Even though you had been prepped by Felix so recently, taking the alpha was a whole other ball game. The only time he had really fucked you was on your heat, where your body was ready to accommodate his length.

“R-really?” you asked in a moan, both in pleasure and pain. 

“Uh huh. How lucky is that?” He started at a brutal pace, the skin of his pelvis slapping against your ass noisily. “Still doesn’t excuse your actions. The both of you have to make it up somehow.” 

“Please, m’ sorry.” you pleaded between moans and squeaks. His cock always filled you so well.

“This bite mark he left you sure is deep. You know Felix would only bite someone he loves.” Your heart fluttered at his remark, and it seemed your pussy did too. “Fuck so tight. Did you know that, omega? Your pussy tightened on me so you must know. Felix loves you, and now I'm sure you love him too huh?” 

“Yes alpha!” you cried louder as his wet heaving chest was pressed against your back.

“Maybe that should be your punishment. Yeah that's it, since both of you want to disobey me then that's the consequence.’ your eyes widened, having an inkling of what he would say next. 

“You aren’t allowed to touch him, at all, until I say so. No kissing, no fucking, no so much as brushing fucking fingers with him until I've deemed it acceptable. Fuck maybe I won’t even let him speak to you from now on.” 

“Alpha no!” You tried to protest but he only sped up his thrusts, making you only be able to moan and cry. Fuck he was fucking you so good. Better than anything you have ever felt. He had you so deep in space you could barely focus on anything than that thin line between pain and pleasure.

“Too fucking late. You stay the fuck away from him, do you hear me, omega? Damn, I'm gonna cum. He won’t so much as breathe in your direction until I say so.” The alpha let go of your hair and you sucked in a large breath at the release. He opted for gripping your hips roughly, his fingers surely to leave bruises. 

Your arms were free now so with one hand you braced yourself against the cold surface, the other was reaching behind you to grab at your mate, craving even an ounce of comfort as you were nearing your high. You made contact with the skin on his waist and dug your fingers into him. 

When you grabbed him the alpha let go and released inside of you with a loud growl, the copious amount overflowing against his length. His knot inflated within you, locking you into place with him. His growl set something inside of you aflame and without warning you came too, a loud wail leaving your lips and your eyes rolling into the back of your head. You wretch your head to the side bearing your neck for your alpha, giving him your complete submission. He almost took the opportunity to reclaim you, but knew you had enough biting for one day.

Chan stilled his hips, breathing heavy in your ears as he let you come down. He watched the cum fall down from where you were joined and be washed away with the water. After a moment when his knot had deflated, he slowly pulled out of you, kissing the back of your neck and whispering praises. He knew it would be a long night of aftercare. 

A/n: True colors are starting to come out a lil more, not everything is all sunshine and rainbows

Comments and reblogs are very much appreciated!

Also if any one wants to chat about the story or share predictions please send me an ask!!

Beta read by my wonderful bumble bee @ayejaii

©doitforbangchan

Taglist - closed

@chxnb97 / @butterflydemons / @zaggprincess2 / @stellasays45 / @uhhheather / @walnutspie /  @a-mistake-tbh / @meowmeeps / @realrintaro / @ihrtlix / @raehawthorne / @juskz / @freckleboilix / @marvelsmarauder / @0325tiny / @iyeeeverydee / @stars-garden / @boi-bi-ahaha / @gini143 / @queenmea604 /  @palindrome969 / @f9clementine / @theysaidhush / @kpophosblog / @usercaiskz / @honeym0chi / @nobody3210 / @changbinswife10789  @5starluvr / @neyangi / @jiminssluttyminx / @ayejaii / @iknowleeknow / @jeonginnieswifey / @catlove83 / @upsidedownchaire / @emmxxsworld / @manuosorioh / @igetcarriedawaywithyou / @blondechannie / @woozixo / @ilovejeongin007/ @yaorzu-blog / @theydy-madamonsieur / @jehhskz / @feybin / @rylea08 / @sebastianswhore13 / @kihyuns-military-wife / @luvyev / @xx3rachaslutxx / @hahhahahjakakla / @skzstaykatsy / @zerefdragn33l

[13uswntimagines]

Eras of Us- Era 3: Ugh Oh, I'm Falling in Love (Taylor Swift X Morgan!Reader)

Eras of Us master list

This is the Era where they're falling in love, learning more about each other, and how to navigate their relationships with their friends and families.

warning- Sexual content in this chapter.

Author's note: Hey everyone, i'm so sorry this took so long. theres just a lot of stuff in this chapter that i really wanted to get right. I hope you enjoy it! let me know what you think. comments are literally my favorite thing.

February 2017 'Cause you could be the one that I love I could be the one that you dream of

As it turned out, being Taylor’s girlfriend was far easier than you imagined it would be. It wasn’t all that much different than when the two of you were just friends, actually. 

You two still texted continuously, now each message was dotted with a heart or a little kiss. You two still talked on the phone all of the time, though you had developed a bad habit of falling asleep on late-night calls with her. 

The only thing that had really changed was that now the photos you sent her were slightly more… suggestive on purpose. 

And now you actually got to kiss her, which was fun, except you had barely seen her since you two started dating. 

Between the holidays and dealing with your shitty agent about yet another fucked up trade, you hadn’t had time to fly to her, and she had been tied up with her family and recording her new album to fly to you. But the two of you made due (ie falling asleep on the phone with her nearly every night). 

It still sucked you wouldn’t get to see her until after January camp. At least you only had 1 more game to play in. 

“Hurry up you two,” Rose called over her shoulder, idly swinging Emily’s hand next to her. 

You groaned, adjusting your grip on Mal’s legs as her arms squeezed more tightly around your neck. “It’s not my fault this koala demanded a piggyback ride,” 

Mal had been insanely clingy since the start of camp, draping herself all over you at every opportunity. It wasn’t something you noticed at first, but it had become so constant, that it was beginning to grate on your patience. 

Especially after she interrupted you every time you tried to talk to Taylor. The only moment you had gotten alone was at 3 am, and you had been too drowsy to do more than stare at her. 

“I’m not that heavy ducky,” Mal hugged, pinching your ear. 

“No, but it’s been like 2 miles,” You huffed, tilting your head away from her, and picking up your pace so you were even with Rose and Emily. 

Emily rolled her eyes at you. “And whose fault is that?” 

You shrugged as much as you could with Mal on your back. “Cheney said they have the best mochas,”

“And it’ll make it very hard for Alex to beat you this week,” Rose snorted, gesturing towards the shiny watch on your wrist. “If you’re gonna make us take a hike to a coffee shop, you should at least be honest with why we’re taking it,” 

“She should be more active in her rest time,” You said, earning another eye roll as the four of you finally made it to the cafe Cheney had mentioned when you talked to her over the holidays. 

It was just a bonus that Alex would need to find 4 extra exercise miles to match you in her stupid little app. It’s what she had done to you with Kelley’s family’s stupid 10 mile Christmas morning hike after all. You had to go on a beach run to make up for it. 

“Or maybe you should be less competitive,” Emily grumbled, holding the door open for you and Mal to walk through. Her gaze stayed glued out the door even after you stepped through. 

You rolled your eyes. “And what fun would that be?” 

You dropped Mal’s legs as you got in line next to Rose, and she landed on her feet, but she didn’t let go of your neck like you had hoped she would.

“We would be behind in the practice scrimmages against the vets too,” You added as you turned your attention to the menu above the cashier. 

There weren’t any… normal drinks. They all had fancy names, so you had to read the description to figure out what the fuck it was. You sighed internally, deciding that you absolutely shouldn’t have listened to Cheney, because long complicated descriptions like delectable dark roast, mixed with Dutch hand-made chocolate ganache, and essence of citrus aurantium topped with creamy dreamy whipped cream and powdered orange blossoms: written out in small, tight together cursive was going to take you forever to decipher. 

Especially with the way all the L’s and E’s kept flipping places, and how Mal kept shifting your entire body each time she moved. 

You were going to have a headache by the time you actually made it through the menu. 

“Ok, those guys are totally following us,” 

You blinked in the direction of Emily’s voice, and away from the migraine-inducing menu. You followed her hand to where she was pointing at two men wearing aviators sitting at a stable near the back of the café. 

The one facing you was older, with dark salt and pepper hair, wearing a leather jacket, while the other was younger and blonde with his back to you. 

It made you roll your eyes again. 

Tony and Zach had been your shadows since you and Taylor started dating. You saw them outside your apartment building in Chicago, and ran into them everywhere you went, even when you attended a Bears game against the Chiefs. 

You could tell that they were trying to be discrete since you had brought up the issue with Taylor the first week you noticed them, but it was still annoying that she wouldn’t budge on her stance. 

“I’ll take care of it,” You grumbled, carefully untangling yourself from Mal’s grasp, ignoring the high-pitched whine she let out at being displaced. “Just order me the closest thing to a mocha please,” 

At least now you didn’t have to read the menu. 

You ignored the feeling of their eyes on your back as you walked up to the table your two bodyguards were sitting at, knocking on the wood when you were close enough. “I thought I made it clear that I don’t need a babysitter,”

“I prefer the term watchman,” Tony hummed, barely even looking at you. 

Zach nodded. “Watchmen is a much better term,” 

You glared at the blonde man, before turning back to Tony. “I prefer that you don’t follow me around and creep out my friends,” 

Tony paused, lifting a finger to shift his aviators down to the end of his nose so he could peer at you over the rim of them. “We’ll try to be more discreet,” 

You shook your head. “No. You will stop following me,” 

“Can’t. Bosses orders,” Tony shrugged, readjusting his aviators back over his eyes. “And frankly, the team doesn’t have enough security,” 

Your glare deepened. “Because no one knows who the fuck we are,” 

“Still, I shouldn’t have been able to get your room number from the front desk receptionist,” He countered. “or have Zach get into the changing room at the practice field,”

“Normal people don’t do that shit,” You grit back.

His point proved nothing. 

No fan was trying to sneak into your locker room to leave notes in your cubby and no other people had interest in your room number. 

Sure, the note and the peanut butter cookies Taylor had delivered to your room were cool, but two men staking out every place you went certainly was not. Not when Emily wouldn’t shut up about your mysterious friend being in the mob because now you had people following you. 

She couldn’t give up on the angle, going so far that even Mal was annoyed with her. 

You had been annoyed 5 weeks ago when she brought the idea up for the first time during New Year's when she spotted them after you came out of a fried chicken place in Atlanta. 

Tony sighed, fixing his leather jacket.“If you're really insistent about this, you know who you need to take it up with. Otherwise, I think Ms. Sonnett, Ms. Pugh, and Ms. Lavelle have finished ordering,” 

It irritated you that he always referred to your friends so formally, even if he had never met them. 

“I will,” You grit out, already pulling your phone out of your pocket. “Because you two are ridiculous,” 

Tony made a face, dipping his aviators to peer at you again. “And Taylor is ridiculous for caring about your safety?”

You opened and closed your mouth several times. That wasn’t fair. 

Tony slid his glasses back into place as a waitress brought them 2 coffees. 

Your jaw clenched and you didn’t your best not to glare at the smug way he sipped the steaming glass. You hadn’t even seen them order. 

“Your friends have chosen a table,” He hummed, tilting his head to where Emily, Mal, and Rose were all staring at you with wide eyes. 

“This isn’t the end of this conversation,” You muttered, grabbing one of the 3 chocolate chip cookies that had been delivered with their coffee. 

“We will try to be more discreet,” Zach said, passing you a napkin. 

You took a bite of your cookie. “You better,” 

“We’ll do our best,” Tony chuckled, gesturing towards your friends with his chin again. “Go enjoy your overly fancy coffee,”

You made a low noise, turning on your heel and heading back over to your friends, who were overtly staring at the men now. 

“You’re in the mob right?” Emily asked before you were even fully seated in the chair next to Mal. 

You didn’t reply, instead breaking the cookie into 3 and passing the larger part to Rose for her and Emily to share and the other to Mal, who was already wrapping herself around you again. 

“Emily stop,” The forward whined loudly in your ear as she took the cookie. 

“Oh come on, just answer the question,” Emily said, her lips pulling into a teasing grin. “it’s totally obvious,”

“I’m not in the mob,” You grumbled, taking a sip of your coffee and frowning. 

You liked mochas, they were your go-to order, but this one had caramel in it, and was far too sweet. You would drink it anyway though, because one of your friends had paid for it. 

Rose leaned forward in her chair, resting crossed arms on the table in front of her conspiratorially. “Then why was our coffee already paid for?”

You frowned, your cup hitting the table with a low thud. “What?”

“I gave them my name and she said someone had already paid for us,” Rose said, her voice low. 

Your eyebrows pulled more tightly together. “Who?”

“Someone named Athena,” Rose wiggled her eyebrows at you, and you rolled your eyes. 

It had been Taylor. Of course, it was her, she had even sent the goons she had following you coffees and an extra cookie. 

Of course that was the name Taylor used. 

She had been making fun of her nickname since she found out that it was her contact name in her phone, and you blushed through your explanation that she was a goddess and the smartest person you knew. 

“See, totally a mob boss name,” Emily said accusingly, gesturing wildly with her hands. “who else would call themselves Athena,”

You were afraid that if you rolled your eyes again they would fall out of your head, so you refrained. 

No matter how good it would have felt. 

You pulled away from Mal and wrestled your phone out of your pocket. You flipped to your messages, ignoring the one aptly named Athena for now, opening the thread you shared with Alex to get it to stop buzzing. 

Alexandria🐬: Did you have to walk to a coffee shop across the city? Haven’t you ever heard of an Uber?

MiniMorgs: Wanted to get some fresh air, and Cheney recommended it

Alexandria🐬: More like you wanted to win this week’s challenge. Was it worth the walk?

MiniMorgs: I didn’t have to read the overly complicated menu, so yes. #dyslexic problems

Alexandria🐬: LoL. Maybe we should get you yellow-tinted glasses to help with that

MiniMorgs: Whatever. Good luck catching up on miles

Alexandria🐬:🖕🏻

Another coffee cup landed in front of you with a clink, and you blinked up from your phone at the waitress. 

You frowned up at her. “Ugh, thanks?” 

You hadn’t ordered another coffee. 

“The person who paid for your order also asked us to make an extra mocha, no caramel, no whipped cream, and no sweetening syrup,” The young girl explained quickly, her hands fidgeting in front of her. “it also comes with a heart and a little winky face,” 

“Oh, thanks,” You sent her a genuine smile, the dimple on your left cheek poking out just a bit. 

She blushed.

“No problem,” she said, turning away from you and your friends very quickly before practically running back to the counter. 

You didn’t watch her as she left, instead sipping your new coffee and sighing in content. 

It was exactly what you wanted. The perfect cup of coffee if you did say so yourself. 

You glanced back down at your phone, flipping through your messages to the one labeled Athena👸🏼

Thanks for the coffee. It’s much better than the sugary shit Emily ordered.

“Do you have to flirt with every woman you see?” Mal scoffed, placing more of her weight on you as she draped her arms over your shoulders. 

You grunted, slipping your phone in your pocket and adjusting in your seat so she didn’t knock you over. “I wasn’t flirting, I was just being nice,” 

You practically felt her roll her eyes as Emily snorted across from you. 

“What? I was!” You bit out, your voice dripping in incredulity. 

“You used the smile you use when you’re trying to get into someone’s pants,” Mal hummed, her lips caressing the shell of your ear as her hand dipped its way under the hem of your Alexia Putellas Barça jersey.  “I would know,” 

You jerked away from her, nearly spilling your coffee. Your chair squeaked as you pushed away, creating space between the two of you. 

You didn’t want her touching you. 

Not like you had in the past. 

There was a time when you craved her touch. Where you twisted yourself into knots to be worthy of her affection. 

You allowed yourself to get closer to her than you had to anyone else, and in the end she had decided that you still weren’t good enough. 

She decided that you would never be good enough for her. Not like Dansby was. But even after that you had pined after every little scrap of care she sent you, and you allowed yourself to believe that it was all you deserved. 

That it was real.

Even in your short time with Taylor, you knew that real was something very different.  She didn’t make you feel like you were always making up for something. Like you had to earn her care. 

She made you feel worthy and had butterflies flapping in your chest. She made you feel seen, even before you were together, and you wouldn’t do anything to put that in jeopardy. 

“Whoa, easy there,” Emily chuckled. “Didn't think you were so sensitive to the mention of your history,” 

You shifted uncomfortably, fixing the edge of your jersey. 

“Just tickled me,” You muttered, taking another sip of your coffee as Mal didn’t even hesitate to wrapped herself around you again. 

You ignored the knowing look Rose sent you, and cleared your throat. “We should probably head back though. Think you can walk on your own this time?” 

You gently elbowed Mal, sending Emily a cheeky grin when she wiggled her eyebrows. 

Mal sighed heavily, her lips returning to near your ear. “I don’t think so. I think I still need a piggyback,”

You huffed at her pouted words, shoving your extra coffee cup into her hands as you stood. “You have to carry the cups though,” 

“Deal!” She cheered, already trying to climb on your back. 

You didn’t have the heart (or the stomach) to tell her that you didn’t want to carry her back. You couldn’t when it made her light up so much. 

“You’re such a pushover,” Rose muttered as she held the café door open for you. 

You shrugged as much as you could with Mal on your back.

You were a people pleaser to your core, and you couldn’t help that. Mal was your friend and you liked to make her happy. 

Taylor would understand. 

*****

You were sweating your ass off by the time you made it back to the team hotel, and your legs felt like you had just played 90 minutes. 

You supposed walking 4 miles with a fully grown forward on your back would do that to you, and the detours Emily kept taking because of the “Mob Guys” following you made the journey more like 6. Dawn was not going to be pleased, and you felt like you needed a recovery day to recover from your recovery day. 

You dropped Mal’s legs as you stepped into the welcome AC of the lobby, ignoring her yelp at the move. 

“I’m done being your pack Mule,” You muttered, breathing hard. “Use your own damn legs,”

“Not a mule. A graceful stallion,” Mal hummed, leaning in and placing a kiss on your cheek before she skipped off. “Thanks for the ride,” 

She missed your eye roll.  But Kelley didn’t. “Coming on a bit strong, isn't she?” 

You blinked at Kelley, pulling your sunglasses up to rest in your wavy curls, taking in the way she was shifting awkwardly from foot to foot. “Don’t they always?” 

“You didn't have a friends-with-benefits relationship with most of the people who hit on you,” Kelley shrugged. 

You made a sound low in your throat, scratching the back of your neck. “I’m not interested in continuing that,” 

You didn’t know she knew about that.

“I know,” Kelley nodded, her hand landing warm and grounding on your shoulder. “You’re interested in burrito girl,” 

You hummed. 

You were more than just interested in Taylor, and Kelley knew that. She had been getting regular updates after she talked you off the ledge the morning after, and it was kinda nice to get to share with someone. 

Kelley shifted again, and you scratched harder at the back of your neck as a very uncomfortable silence settled over you. 

“I didn’t bring you coffee,” You said, finally looking at her. 

Your eyebrows pulled tightly together. She was spinning the ring on her forefinger more rapidly than you had ever seen, and shifting like she was… nervous. 

“I know,” She said, her eyes flicking up to meet your blue before rapidly looking away. “Can we chat though?” 

You frowned. “What’s up?” 

Kelley bit her lip and led you over to an isolated meeting room, closing the door behind you. 

She took a steadying breath like she was stealing herself as she turned to look at you. “I’m going to ask your sister to marry me,” 

You stared at her, your mouth dropping open at her words. 

She was going to ask your sister to marry her. 

Her and Alex were going to get married. 

But weren’t they practically married already? They had been together since you were 10. They lived together, had 2 dogs and were actively looking for a team to transfer to together. 

You shouldn’t have been surprised, but you were.  So you did what you always did when you were caught off guard. 

You painted a playful smirk on your face, wiggling your eyebrows. “Alex right? Because I don’t think Jen or Jerry will react well,” 

Kelley sighed. “I’m being serious. We’ve been together for almost 7 years. I love her,” 

You raised an eyebrow at her, your smirk melting a little. “Ok, and?” 

She spun her ring a little faster. “I’m not asking your permission, but-“

“You want my blessing or some shit?” You cut her off, your eyebrows furrowing impossibly deeper. “Jesus Kell, her and I haven’t had a proper conversation since I was like 12. My opinion doesn’t matter,”

You actively avoided conversations with your sister. She barely knew anything about the adult version of yourself. 

There was no way she could care what you thought about her marrying Kelley. 

Kelley shook her head, closing the distance between you and catching your hand. “I think your opinion is one of the only ones she cares about,” 

Her voice went very soft, and you swallowed hard. You weren’t at a place to consider what she meant. You couldn't deal with all of the baggage that came with the implications. 

Yes, you were fairly content to interact with her through the stupid app the two of you competed on, but that was nothing deeper than just that. A competition. 

It didn’t mean anything. Not like Kelley was assuming it meant. 

You shook your head, swallowing down your feelings and locking them into a little box in the center of your chest. 

“She might be my sister, but I’ll kick her ass if she hurts you. Or says no, even though she’s not going to say no. She loves you. I guess I’ll kick your ass too if you hurt her so don’t,” You said softly, drawing up the courage to meet Kelley’s eyes again. 

A brilliant smile broke across her face, and her eyes lit up like the two of you had just won the World Cup. “I promise I won’t kid,” 

“Good,” You ran a hand through your hair, sucking in a long breath through your nose. “Is there anything else?”

“Don’t you want to know how I’m going to do it?” Kelley asked, her eyebrows furrowing. 

Your shoulders lifted and fell. 

Maybe a part of you cared about whatever romantic thing Kelley had planned for her, but the larger part just… wasn’t interested.  It wasn’t like you were involved in Alex’s life. You didn’t get to see the ins and outs of her relationship with Kelley, and that was your own choice. If you got too close, you knew you would get hurt. 

You had before anyway. 

“As long as it’s not during or directly after sex, I think it’ll be fine,” You huffed out, covering your wavering curiosity. 

Kelley rolled her eyes. “I’m going to do it when we go to New York. I have a reservation for the top of the Empire State Building,”

“That’ll be pretty,” You hummed, your voice going soft. 

You knew how much your older sister loved city lights. It was nearly as much as she loved to look at the stars. 

When the two of you were young, you would sit on the roof outside of her window for hours staring at the sky, naming the constellations. It was what got you so into Greek mythology after all. You wondered if she still remembered all of the stories. 

“She loves the lights,” Kelley agreed, watching you carefully. “We’re going to have dinner after. Jen and Jerrie will be there,” 

You nodded. “I’ll be there too,” 

“Excellent,” Kelley’s smile just got wider. 

“Yeah,” You said, trailing off and looking towards the door. “I told Alyssa I’d watch film with her before the game tomorrow, so are we done?” 

Kelley chuckled, not at all surprised that you wanted to escape this conversation. “Wouldn’t want to keep the head of the Department of Defense waiting,” 

You always pulled away when your family was mentioned, and that habit was only magnified when emotions were also involved. 

“Nope,” You muttered, practically running towards the door. 

She wished things were different.

Alex was making the steps to bridge the gap in your relationship, and for the first time in a long time, you seemed willing to meet her halfway.  Neither of them were sure exactly what had caused the rift, or why you had always been so… reluctant to let her fix it. Or to talk about it in general.

She hoped that the little steps would actually lead to something this time.  She hoped that you would let your walls down. She hoped that you would actually let yourself be happy. 

*****

Rain pounded down around you as you tracked the ball across midfield. 

Games like this were your favorite. 

The USWNT was up by 4 and there was only 30 seconds of stoppage time left. You had a goal and 2 assists and you had played incredibly well. It was 75 degrees so the rain was like the mist from a shower, warm and comfortable. 

It let you take your mind off of the stupid phone call that had come just before you loaded up the bus to head to the stadium. It drowned out Roary Dame’s voice explaining that you were a great play, just not what they needed. 

Explaining that he had put your name in the trading block for the highest draft pick they could get. So they could finally have their star striker because you were the wrong Morgan for that. 

This game made you feel… good. It made you feel powerful. 

You smiled at Sam as she came to a stop beside you. 

Alex and Mal were getting ready to take a time-wasting corner to end the game, and you and Sam were just there in case Jamaica got a counter opportunity. 

“Emily says you’re in the mob now,” She said conversationally. “And that you have two huge dudes following you around,” 

You rolled your eyes. “I’m not in the mob,” 

“But you do have 2 dudes following you,” She asked, tilting her head to the mouth of the tunnel where Zach and Tony were huddled under an umbrella. 

They were right, it was kinda scary how far they could get without any real security clearance. They shouldn’t have been able to get into the stadium, much less on the field, but here they were. 

“I have a very overprotective friend,” You muttered as the ref blew the signature three whistles to signal the end of the game. You paused before you ran off.

Taylor wasn’t your friend, she was something much much more. You didn’t feel right calling her a friend. 

You turned back to Sam, scratching the wet hairs off the back of your neck. “Well, a very protective more than a friend,” 

A smile broke across her features, and you couldn’t help but match it.  “Don’t mention that to anyone though,” You added, suddenly nervous that she would tell the team, and then the rumor mill would start.

You weren’t ready to answer questions about Taylor yet. Or to listen to your teammates tease you. You also didn’t want to share her yet. 

Sam winked at you. “Your secret is safe with me,” 

“Thanks,” You said, heading towards the tunnel, pausing at a young girl waving a soaked-through Morgan sign a few feet away from the tunnel. 

You could see a big 13 painted on the sign, so you knew it wasn’t meant for you, but still it was your name too. 

“Hey, I like your sign,” You hummed, flashing the girl a million-dollar smile, ignoring the phones pointed in your direction. “Even if it has the wrong number on it,” 

The girl blushed deeply. “I like you too. I just wasn’t sure what number you would be wearing,” 

It was a good excuse, you thought. Or it would have been over a year ago before you made the switch to number 12. 

You hated when they pretended to give a shit about you just because you were the one standing in front of them. You knew the only Morgan they really cared about was your sister, and you wished they would just own it. 

“Well thank ya,” You winked, ignoring her little lie. “I know it’s just because she’s a striker. Everyone loves a good goal scorer,” 

The red in the girl's cheeks got even more pronounced, and your grin turned slightly wolfish. She didn’t hear the bitter note in your voice. 

Everyone wanted the star striker, something you would never be. 

“Do you have something you want me to sign?” 

The girl shook her head, looking at her friend who also shook her head. The girl looked back at you, biting her lip. 

“Can I get your jersey?” She asked hesitantly, and your smirk only got wider. 

“I think I can do one better,” You said, turning back towards the field. Your eyes roved over the players until you found the one you were looking for. 

“Hey Al,” You called out, cupping your hands over your face to amplify the sound. 

Her head snapped in your direction, and you waved her over. You tried not to let it bother you that the girl's squeals got so much louder as she jogged over, a questioning smile on her face. 

“What’s up?” She asked as soon as she was close enough, and you could hear the slight surprise in her voice. It was one of the first times you had actually spoken to her since last camp.

You tilted your head towards the fans beside you. “You’ve got a fan and you owe me because I beat you 5 weeks in a row,” 

“And?” She raised an eyebrow at you. 

“I’m cashing in,” You said, again tilting your head towards the fans. “She would like your jersey,” 

Alex never took her eyes off of you as she stripped off her soaked-through jersey, and passed it to the girl. It was like she was trying to figure out what you were thinking.  But she had lost the ability to read your mind years ago. 

“Thanks,” You said, flashing her a grin and turning back towards the girl. “Now you’ve got the jersey you actually want,” 

Alex’s lips pulled downward at the sarcasm in your tone, hidden by false cheeriness. It was the same tone you used when something was annoying you, but you didn’t know how (or have the courage) to vocalize it. 

“Oh my god, thank you!” The girl cheered, looking at Alex instead of at you. 

“Both of you,” She added quickly when Alex raised an eyebrow at her. 

You waved her off, throwing a “No worries,” over your shoulder as you headed towards the tunnel to get out of the rain. 

Alex waved at the girls too, sending them a smile before jogging off after you. There was something so… off about that interaction, and she wasn’t willing to let it go anymore. 

Her and Kelley had discussed it, and while she understood the defender's advice to not push you. To let you come to her, she was tired of waiting. 

The texting was nice, but it didn’t carry over to your real-life interactions and that was… frustrating. It wasn’t getting her anywhere. 

She caught your arm as you rounded the corner to the locker room, spinning you on the spot and stepping into your space so you were pinned against the cold concrete wall of the tunnel, unable to run away this time. 

“What the fuck was that all about?” She asked, keeping her voice level, even though the two of you were nose to nose. 

Your eyes flashed up to meet hers, identical blue boring into yours. It made you feel like she could see into your soul. Like you were naked in front of her.  You so badly wanted to look away but you couldn’t.

“She had a Morgan sign with a huge 13 on it, so I went to say hello,” You shrugged, trying to sound nonchalant, but Alex saw through it. “And they asked for a jersey, but I knew it wasn’t mine they wanted,”

There was something in your voice, in your posture that she couldn’t place. 

“But they asked you for it?” She pressed, and your eyes flicked away from her as you gave her a barely perceptible nod. 

“It would have been a consolation prize. They wanted yours,” You said, twisting your arm free and finally squeezing out from where you were trapped. “Everyone always wants yours,”

You muttered the last part under your breath as you tried to make your way down the hallway, but Alex heard you anyway. 

She again caught your arm before you could walk away, again spinning you around to face her. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing Alex,” You grumbled, shaking your head and again breaking her hold on you. “Just drop it,”

“No. I will not drop it,” She bit back, not letting you walk away from her. “I’ve been dropping it since you were 10 and look where it’s gotten us. I can’t fix something if I don’t understand what’s wrong,” 

It was as if she let you leave. If she let you go before she understood you would be gone for good. You would lose the progress you had made. 

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Fix it?” 

What did Alex mean that she wanted to fix it? She didn’t have a Time Machine. 

“Yes. Fix it,” She said, fighting to keep her volume low and her tone even. You didn’t respond well to exasperation. “We were so close and now it’s like we can’t even stand each other. I don’t want us to be this tense for the rest of our lives,” 

You stared at her like she had 3 heads. There was nothing that she could do. No magic wand she could wave to change it. 

The world preferred her over you, and they probably always would. You had learned from the time you were small that you weren’t worth as much as Alex was. You were invisible when she was there. You accepted it. The only person who didn’t make you feel that way was Taylor.

You shook your head. “There is nothing to fix Alex. You can’t do anything. Now let me go,” 

Her face fell, and something broke in her eyes. It made your heart hurt, but it was the truth. 

You twisted your arm out of her grasp and turned on your heel heading into the locker room. Alex stared after you, something you said gnawing in her brain. 

Everyone always wants yours

It was nearly as bad as the “Now that everyone is watching you care. Now when it’s convenient” you gave her on the practice field in November. 

She wasn’t sure what had happened between the two of you, or why you were so… frustratingly stubborn about allowing her to build a bridge over the mile-wide gap between you. 

Your attitude shifting was also giving her whiplash. You seemed so… open over text. So willing to interact.  She didn’t know how to navigate it all, and it seemed that you weren’t at all willing to help her. 

“You good?” 

Alex jumped at Kelley’s voice in her ear and gentle hands on her shoulders. 

“No,” she shook her head, relaxing back into the defender's grasp. 

Kelley hummed, and placed a kiss just below her ear, soothing her. “What happened?”

“Y/n called me over to give a girl my jersey, and then told her that she had the one she actually wanted,” Alex explained, frustration evident in her voice. “and when I asked, she told me that everyone always wants mine,” 

“Al, we talked about this,” Kelley sighed, as your sister pulled away from her. 

“I know,” Alex grumbled running a frustrated hand through her soaked hair. 

They had many conversations about it. They both agreed that the best move was to take it slow. To let you dictate the pace, but neither of them expected you to be so… passive-aggressive. 

Not when you let people push you too far because you didn’t know how to set limits, or you just pretended like they didn’t exist. 

She didn’t know how to act when you went out of your way to interact with her and then tried to run away. 

“But we never accounted for this,” She gestured wildly towards the locker room door. “She called me over,” 

“And then you chased after her,” Kelley countered. “Because she told you a snippet of what’s bothering her that is supposed to make sense, but it doesn’t because you don’t have context. And you need to understand. I know,” 

“She said I can’t fix it, Kell,” Alex’s voice finally broke, and Kelley was quick to pull the striker into her chest as her shoulders shook. “What am I supposed to do?” 

Kelley closed her eyes, resting her cheek on the top of Alex’s head, holding her tightly. 

She could see it from your side. 

Alex had spent years unsure of how to bridge the ever-widening gap between you. You had spent years being compared to her, being crucified by the media for not being her, so it made sense for you to be wary. For you to try and protect yourself.  What didn’t make sense was the hot and cold way you were going about it. 

“I’ll talk to her,” Kelley said, holding your sister together as she crumbled. “But we need to take this at her pace. And that means one step at a time,”

*****

Slipping out of the locker room undetected was far easier than you expected it to be, but then again you had retreated to the showers long before most of the team was even off of the field. You hadn’t been planning to escape, but when the text came through on your phone, it was a no-brainer. 

You smiled widely as you made the final turn down the tunnel, revealing Taylor leaning up against the large Visitors sign texting. “Fancy meeting you here, I thought you had album stuff,” 

“Heard you didn’t like my henchmen,” She smirked, pushing herself off the wall and meeting you halfway. “So I thought I’d come to check on you myself,”

You nearly fell with the force of the hug, burying your face in her neck and squeezing her tightly to you. “I don’t like the henchmen. I don’t need babysitters,”

She hummed, leaning back just enough to look you in the eyes and brushing your wet curls out of your eyes. “You don’t need babysitters, but you do need protection. Let me be a little overprotective of you,” 

You could feel her breath on your lips, and you couldn’t help but lean in and connect your mouths. Your hands slipped into the back pocket of her jeans and you squeezed lightly. 

It was slightly scary how addicted to her you were. How you craved her touch. 

She made a low sound in the back of her throat. One of her hands hooked into the hem of your sweats, and the other wove into the short curls at the back of your neck, pulling you tighter to her. 

You stumbled forward molding yourself to her, as the kiss changed. Her tongue slipped into your mouth, running against yours, and you could feel her desire. 

It didn’t surprise you. You knew what she wanted. What she expected. It was the same thing that every girl expected from you, so you just let it happen. 

You let her pull you into the closet (unsure of how it appeared out of thin air, or where her shirt had suddenly disappeared to), pushing her against the only wall not covered in athletic equipment, and pinning her there with your hips. 

Your lips dragged across her neck, and you longed to pull the velvety skin into your mouth. To place a mark, a claim out in the open where everyone could see. But you didn’t. 

You trailed down to her collarbone, skimming your teeth along it as your hand slid into her pants, past her underwear, and through her warm wetness. 

You couldn’t help the smirk that graced your features. “Is this all for me?” 

“You’re hot when you play,” She keened as you teased at her entrance, gathering her slick on your middle finger. “And even hotter when you’re drenched and you kept pulling your shirt off to wipe the rain out of your eyes,” 

You hummed, tracing her lower lips and brushing your middle finger across her clit. Her hips jolted, knocking into your thigh and it reminded you of how players always fought you for ball possession. 

How they would press back into you while you tried to tap it through their legs. How they always bucked back to keep you from picking their pocket. 

Taylor’s head hit the wall, and you worked your lips back up her neck, lingering on the underside of her jaw. “Please y/n,”

You hummed, dragging your teeth along her chin, and slipping your finger inside. She was warm and tight, squeezing your fingers as you dragged them against her walls. 

Her hand tightened in the short curls at the base of your neck, while the other clawed at the bare skin of your shoulders. 

She tasted like sweat and rain, and something just so Taylor. 

It was like the sun on your face during the perfect practice, using your arm to wipe the sweat off your upper lip after you sank a ball past one of the keepers.  It was like your teammates pulling you into tight hugs, running their fingers through your hair after you scored on a scorching summer day, their hands slipping through yours as they headed back to their starting positions. 

She shuddered against you as you curled your fingers, finding the spongy patch inside of her, and you carefully ran your teeth across the special spot right below her ear. 

It made you feel… powerful to have her so on edge already.  Nearly as powerful as when you were 5 goals up on a team, or when a player couldn’t make it past you in midfield. 

“Y/n,” 

It was like playing with Mal, and how you knew where she was going to be before she moved, so you could pull the opposing players and set her up for a goal. 

Except it was better. It was what you imagined scoring in the World Cup would feel like. Or assisting in a goal. 

“Y/n,” Taylor panted, using the hand in your hair to tug you away from her neck. 

“What baby?” you asked, glassy eyes blinking blearily up at her as you again curled your fingers. 

Her head fell back and hit the wall with a thump.  “Oh my god,” She moaned low in her throat, fighting to get out whatever she was saying. She swallowed hard, her hands keeping you from continuing your ministrations. “The door,” 

As if on cue, three loud rasps sounded from the door just to your left. “I know you’re in there Y/n. We need to talk. Now,”

Your head fell forward and landed heavily on Taylor’s shoulder as you let out a groan at Kelley’s voice. “One second,”

Why did she always have to pick the wrong moment? 

You pulled back, meeting Taylor’s eyes. “Just stay here,” 

She nodded, sucking in a deep breath as you removed yourself from her, and ran your hand through your hair, trying to straighten your ever-messy curls. Your other hand fixed your rumpled shirt, and she frowned.  She could have sworn you took yours off when you devested her of hers. 

You opened the door just a crack, pushing your head out and glaring at Kelley. “What? I’m busy,”

Her eyebrows were pulled tightly together, a frown firmly set in her features. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

You felt Taylor’s hand on the top of your back, warm and heavy, comforting in a way you weren’t sure you would ever really deserve. 

“A lot of things,” You grumbled, shifting so Kelley couldn’t get a good look inside the closet.  “I’ll need more information to give you a more defined answer,” 

Her eyes narrowed. “You told Alex that she couldn’t fix it between you,” 

“She can’t,” You shrugged. “Are we done?” 

“No,” Kelley bit back, her hand finding the door to prevent you from slamming it closed. “Not until you talk to your sister and fix this shit,” 

You were already shaking your head. “Talking is not something that Alex and I do,”

Kelley snorted. “But you’ll text,” 

You shrank a little at her tone. 

The texting was different. It was safer, more controlled. She wasn’t close enough to hurt you. You needed that distance. 

You felt a hand on your back, rubbing gentle circles at the point that always grew so tense when you were stressed. 

You let out a breath. “That’s different. We only text when one of us is winning,” 

“Is it?” Kelley pressed, unwilling to let it go.  “Because from the outside, it looks like you share more than just your exercise routine,” 

The hand grew more insistent, and you closed your eyes. “I don’t want to argue with you,”

You could understand why Kelley was upset. She was protective over the people she loved, and while you knew she cared for you, it was nothing compared to how much she loved your sister. She would always choose Alex over you. 

And that was ok. It would be weird if it wasn’t that way. 

“No, you just want to get back to your quick fuck,”

Kelley's mouth twisted around the words, and it felt like a knife slipping into your chest. 

You flushed red, and a hand caught the back of your collar as you jerked forward. “Don’t call her that,” 

You knew what your reputation was, but you never expected Kelley to try and use it against you. Taylor was far more than a quick fuck. You cared about her more than you cared about nearly anyone. 

his was why you hadn’t told Kelley yet. 

Kelley took a step back, sucking in a calming breath through her nose. “Look, all I’m saying is that you need to cut Alex some slack. It’s not fair for her with your hot and cold routine. You at least have to meet her halfway,” 

“I’m trying,” You sighed, running a hand through your wild curls. “What else do you want from me when my own team is fucking trading me because I’ll never be the striker that she is,”

Kelley frowned. “What?”

“Those kids said they didn’t know my number because it was new. I changed it over a year ago. They didn’t have anything for me to sign, because they didn’t want my signature. They wanted Alex. Everyone always wants Alex, and that’s not something she can fix,” You explained, your voice going soft and… honest. “I wasn’t being cruel. I was being honest,”

“Oh,” Kelley’s frown deepened, as your comment to Alex suddenly made sense. 

The fans had lied to you when you were already hurt from the trade. They made you feel more unwanted. 

“Yeah oh,” You said, running another hand through your hair. “We text when one of us is winning. That’s our relationship, so just leave it. Is there anything else?” 

Kelley shook her head and cleared her throat. “Bus leaves in 30,”

You painted a smirk across your features.

“Cool, I’ll see you in 29 then,” You said, as you slammed the door, and turned to lean against it. You slid down until you were seated, drawing your knees to your chest and letting your head fall against it with a low thump. “Fuck me,”

Why did Kelley always have to make things difficult?

Sure she was kinda right, but why did she have to remind you of that and get you to admit why you were upset? It was so infuriating that she wouldn’t let you keep her at arm's length. 

“I would but I don’t think that’ll help,” Taylor chuckled, settling down beside you, resting a hand on your knee. 

You groaned, blinking at her. You had nearly forgotten she was there. And that she was shirtless…“You’d be surprised. There’s something very… freeing about losing yourself in someone else,” 

There was something freeing in having all of a woman’s attention. Of you just being enough for them even if it was only for a moment. Of having something Alex never had, and of being in the only situation where you couldn’t be compared to her (though a few girls had mused about it afterward, it’s why you started skipping the after-cuddling). 

Taylor made a low noise, shaking her head. “I think talking will help you more in the long run,” 

You shrugged. You didn’t want to argue with her. 

“I’m sorry Kelley interrupted before you could…you know…” You blushed deeply, rubbing harder at the back of your neck. You couldn’t say the word orgasm. 

Taylor frowned, her thumb pausing on the inside of your knee. “Y/n,” 

You didn’t stop though. You didn’t let her ask you the hard question. 

“I’m surprised the goon squad didn’t stop them, especially since your goons are here too,”  You said, scratching your neck, and tugging off your sweatshirt by the hood. “Here,” 

You passed her the item, watching with rapt attention as she pulled it on, and her abs flexed.

“Jason is getting the car, and Tony is at the end of the hall,” She hummed, doing the button on her pants once your hoodie was on. “I don’t really like having an audience,”

You wiggled your eyebrows, painting a charming smile back on your face, even though it took too much effort. “And you assumed I’d jump you?”

It was slightly alarming how easily you locked your emotions away. How you could pretend like there wasn’t something bothering you when it had been so obvious just seconds before? 

It set off red flags in her brain because a talent like that wasn’t inherent. It was learned. 

“No,” She shook her head, deciding not to comment on how easily you flipped that switch. “I just knew how much I missed you,” 

Your mask fell slightly. “I missed you too,” 

You meant it. Being away from Taylor was harder than your pride would let you admit. 

You had never been so… taken with someone. So addicted to them. But she made you feel seen and safe. It made you want to spend every second with her, wrapped around her. 

“Can I take you to dinner?” She asked, squeezing your knee. 

You shrugged. “I have to go back to the team hotel first to do cool down and check-in,” 

“I can pick you up afterward,” Taylor suggested. 

“That sounds agreeable,” You nodded, your lips twisting into a devilish smirk. “But what are we going to do in the,” You looked at the time on your phone. “25 minutes we have before the bus leaves?”

Taylor matched your smirk, catching the front of your shirt and pulling you closer. “I can think of a few things,” 

OoOoOoO

March 2017

I, I loved you in spite of Deep fears that the world would divide us So, baby, can we dance  Oh, through an avalanche?

You didn’t particularly enjoy fancy restaurants. You didn’t particularly like most restaurants to begin with, but ones with a dress code always made you uncomfortable. Their menus always had a small font, and the white tablecloths never stayed white. 

The stuffy atmosphere usually lent itself to stuffy conversations, and it reminded you too much of business lunches or dinners with your parents to ever really enjoy yourself. 

You had learned over the years that your opinion didn’t really matter. That everything wasn’t about you. So you were fairly adept at painting a charming smile on and acting normal. 

It has worked for most of the night with your sisters and Kelley anyway. 

It was easy when Jen and Jerri were gushing over the new diamond ring on Alex’s finger. When they kept asking for every little detail of how Kelley proposed on top of the Empire State Building. 

And you played along, never speaking directly to Alex, but not being weird enough that anyone would notice.  You wouldn’t ruin this for her, or for Kelley. 

“You alright over there space cadet?” Jerri asked, nudging your shoulder and pulling your brain from where you were trying to decipher the tiny writing on the menu. 

You blinked up at the four women, realizing that they (and the waiter) were staring expectantly at you. “What?”

“Kell asked if you were ready to order,” Jen supplied patiently. 

You were just grateful that no one giggled, but you blushed anyway. 

You tried to cover it by snapping your menu closed. “Oh, yeah,”

Kelley blinked at you, gesturing towards the waitress. “What are you going to order?”

You felt the heat in your cheeks travel up to your ears, but still, you tried to play it off. “Oh, you guys can go first,”

Jerri shook her head, placing her hand gently on your arm. “We already have sweetheart,”

You frowned, squinting down at your closed menu. You had missed them ordering, and now you didn’t have time to try and decipher the hieroglyphic font the restaurant had chosen. Not that you would have been able to. 

The letters tended to go more haywire when you were stressed, and you would be damned before you asked someone to help you. Your jaw worked as you thought of what to say.  What could you say?

“You love chicken parm, and I heard it’s good here,” Alex said casually like it was normal to suggest food items after everyone else had already ordered. “or they have a very good salmon in pink sauce if you’re feeling something lighter,” 

Your eyes darted to her for the first time since you had sat down at the stable, and your jaw hung open. 

Alex intervening so seamlessly when you were struggling wasn’t something that had happened since she moved to Berkeley (you couldn’t help how you sneered the word in your head). 

Jerri nudged you again, and you cleared your throat, your eyes still glued to Alex. 

 “The salmon sounds good actually,” You mumbled, finally getting your voice to work. 

The waitress hummed, and you heard her little ticket book close. “I’ll go put that in,” 

You were sure that Kelley or Jen responded to the girl, but you didn’t look away from Alex. 

It was just so…not Alex of her. For her to have options ready and waiting meant that she had to have thought that you might have trouble. She had to have consciously decided to look for options that you would like too, and to have more than one so you actually got to choose. 

It meant that she cared. 

You swallowed very hard. That thought was too overwhelming. 

Now, at the dinner, after she just got engaged was not the time to contemplate if Alex even had the capability to care about you. It would again make the evening about you when it most certainly was not. 

You could feel the eyes of Kelley and your sisters, despite the way they restarted their conversation. It was like they were watching a car crash or a roller coaster derail. 

You felt like a spectacle. Like you were drawing attention when you absolutely should not be. It had alarm bells ringing in your ears. 

What would your parents say when they heard you had ruined your sister’s engagement dinner? 

It was like the walls were closing in, as the conversation at the table blended with the noise from the restaurant around you. It was suffocating. 

You didn’t think before you pushed yourself to your feet, nearly knocking over the chair behind you. 

“I’m gonna take a bathroom break,” You said, turning on your heel without waiting for a response, not that you would have registered it through the pounding in your ears. 

You needed to get away. 

To leave. 

To put space between you and this version of Alex that somehow gave a fuck about you. 

You bypassed the hallway that led to the restroom, knowing that someone would eventually find you there. You turned right, brushing past the hostess and out the glass doors into the city. 

The chilly air hit you like a gasping breath after being underwater for too long. Like water after a practice in Houston in July. 

You paused just outside the crystal doors, filling your lungs like you had been drowning. 

You knew you couldn’t stand there forever, blocking the entrance to Osteria Carlina, so you headed left, in the direction of your favorite hole-in-the-wall pizza place between Canal and Broadway. 

You didn't plan to eat there, but you thought that maybe the walk would help you clear your head, and you could be back in time to eat your overpriced salmon. Something about the smell of fresh sauce and baked cheese always made your thoughts clearer. 

It reminded you of when you were tiny and Alex would take you for pizza after your u6 games. It reminded you of riding on her shoulders on top of the world, even if none of the goals actually mattered. 

Even if you lost. 

You just needed a minute to not think, so you could go back and pretend like everything was fine. Like you didn’t feel entirely out of place with your sisters and Kelley. And you knew that the sounds of the city and the familiar comfort would do that. 

You could already feel your airway opening, but you reached up and undid the top two buttons of your shirt anyway as though it would help. It was all in your head anyway. 

It was always all in your head. 

You ran a hand through your hair, your nose scrunching involuntarily at the sticky gel you had used to keep your curls in place. You had forgotten your normal wax in Chicago, and the CVS near your hotel wanted 15$ for it. 

You wanted to look nice for Alex and Kelley, but 15$ wax was not in your budget. Still, you couldn’t not do anything with your hair. Wild curls would draw attention to you, and you couldn’t do that. 

You couldn’t make this night about you and ruin it for them. 

God, you probably already had. 

“If you’re going to ditch us can you please slow down? It’s the least you could do,”

Your heart stopped at Alex’s voice, and your feet paused before you consciously decided to listen. You had to swallow down a groan. 

Of course, she had come after you. 

It was such an Alex thing to do. 

You ran another hand through your hair and turned to face her. “What are you doing?”

Her eyebrows pulled together as she finally caught up with you. “I’m making sure you’re okay,”

She said it like it was obvious. Like it was normal. Like she wasn’t sure why you would ask. 

“I’m fine,” You mumbled, your hand dragging through your curls to the back of your neck. “Go back to dinner and I’ll rejoin you in a bit,”

Her eyebrow arched. “I think running out of the restaurant constitutes just about anything other than fine,”

You couldn’t help how your nose scrunched.

This was the part of your relationship that you had forgotten about. The one that had been masked by annoying persistence since she moved out for college. 

The one where she actually cared enough to force you to admit when something was wrong. 

She was pushing you, but it didn’t feel like it was for her benefit. It was for you. 

Your hand fell. “I just needed some air,” Your voice came out horse, strained. 

Alex hummed, stepping closer to you. “You got overwhelmed.”

It was a statement, not a question, and it struck you how well she knew you, even though the two of you hadn’t had a real conversation in nearly a decade. 

You stared at her, trying to understand her game. Trying to figure out why she was pretending to care. Trying to dissect how this would benefit her and her perfect image. 

“What do you want from me?” You were thrown off by how small you sounded. How young and… terrified the words that left your lips were. 

Alex caught your arm pulling you into her, closing the little space left between you. “I want you to talk to me,” 

“No,” You instantly pulled away from her, tangling your fingers in your messy curls yet again. “I will not be a distraction,”

“What?” Her eyebrows pulled more tightly together. 

Your fingers caught in a curl at the back of your head, the one that always seemed to tangle no matter what you did. You harshly tugged at it, the little pinpricks of pain helping you stay grounded. 

Except this time it didn't help. 

It didn’t give you enough to focus on to crack some smart-ass remark or shove your feelings into a tiny box. 

It was too much. 

“It’s all I’ve ever been,” The words spilled from your lips before you could stop them, like blood gushing from an open wound that you had tried and failed to stitch together too many times before. 

Alex softened, and she took a step towards you, gently catching your arm and pulling it towards her, effectively stopping your from ripping your hair out. 

“Monkey,” She said softly. 

You jerked away, like a wounded animal. You would not let her pretend that she didn’t think that. That she didn’t hate how you followed after her when you were young, that she didn’t despise how you distracted from her.  

“No! I heard you. I’m just the spare Morgan chasing after you, taking people’s attention off of you, and joining in uninvited on your opportunities. This will not be like that. I won’t fuck this up for you. You need to go back, and I’ll be there in a few minutes,” 

The words forced themselves out of your lips like they had been waiting to leave for forever. They broke you apart as you choked trying to hold in your emotions. As you fought to close the lid back on Pandora’s box. 

Alex caught you again, pulling you into her, and you quaked against her chest, sucking in strangled breaths. Her arms wrapped around you, squeezing you tightly, just like she did when you were little after a busy trip to the mall when the crowds had made your tummy flutter. 

You didn’t fight her, instead burying your face in her neck, curling into her like you hadn’t since she left for college. 

She held you like the two of you had all the time in the world. Like you weren't on a random sidewalk with random people walking around you. 

She didn’t pull back until your trembling had slowed and your breathing had evened out, and she very gently ran her thumb under your eyes. 

You hadn’t even realized you were crying. 

“What the hell are you talking about?” She asked when your eyes met her identical blue. 

“You said it,” You mumbled, sniffing lightly. 

Alex’s eyes scrunched and a crinkle appeared between them. “When?” 

 “I was trying to surprise you at Berkley. Mom thought I had practice, and I took the bus. I heard you,” You said, your eyes closing as that day played back through your head. 

It had taken some serious convincing from Jen that Alex missed you, and that she was desperate to see you since you had gone radio silent on her. You had been so excited as you waited near the Berkeley bleachers for their practice to finish. 

She had been walking with one of her teammates, and they were talking about someone Coach McGuire was going to invite to practice. 

“It just makes no sense, why would he extend that kind of an offer to a kid?”  The girl you didn’t recognize said, nudging your sister as they stepped off the field. “Like fuck, it has to suck to always have your younger sister getting opportunities off of your hard work,” 

Alex hummed, shifting her bag over her shoulder, and you moved to be more hidden under the bleachers. 

The little sound was like a knife in your chest, deflating the balloon of excitement that had been there since you snuck out this morning. 

Alex didn’t want to see you. She thought you were getting things off of her hard work.

“Don’t they understand that you want something that’s yours?” The girl continued, and you bit down hard on your lip to stop the tears from leaking down your cheeks. “You should have to deal with her being a distraction from your greatness,” 

You would never cry for Alex again. 

You shook your head and refocused on Alex in front of you, shoving away the cracking feeling in your stomach. 

“Go back to your dinner. I’ll be there in a bit,” You said, forcing your voice steady. Emotionless. In control. “I promise Alex. I just needed some air,” 

“No,” Alex said sternly, her arm tightening around you so you couldn’t pull away.  “Don’t do that. Don’t shut down on me. I'm not going anywhere,”

You blinked at her, fighting to swallow the warmth that spread through you. It couldn’t be real. She couldn’t be honest about this. 

You had already resolved that she didn’t actually care about you. That she loathed the responsibility of you from when you were younger. You couldn’t wrap your head around anything else. 

And before you could stop it the strangled “Why?” Fell from your lips. 

She chuckled, running her thumb under your eyes again and wiping away the tears that would not stop. “Because I fucking love you, and I can’t read your fucking mind, no matter how many times I told you I could when you were little,” 

You knew the comment was meant to draw a chuckle or a smile, but it didn’t. 

Alex ducked her head when you tried to look away, not letting you break eye contact. Not letting you bury your emotions and draw back into yourself. Making sure you heard her. “I want to fix our relationship. I’ve wanted to fix it since you stopped talking to me when I moved out. I don’t understand what happened, even though I probably should, and I can’t if you don’t tell me,” 

You sniffled, unable to stop yourself from leaning into her touch as her thumb ran circles under your eyes, clearing away the tears as they continued to fall. It warmed your cheeks, and traveled down to your tummy. It made you feel… safe. Something you hadn’t really felt that way (aside from when you were with Taylor) since you were 12. 

The two of you stood like that for a long minute, stuck in your own bubble, uncaring of the crowds rushing around you. 

It took you another moment to realize Alex’s eyebrow was raised, and that she was looking at you like she always had when she expected a response. 

You swallowed hard. “Ok,” 

The word was simple but held a weight not lost on either of you. What you were agreeing to wasn’t lost, and neither was the vulnerability it took to let it out. 

Alex’s head tilted, a smile tugging at her lips. “Ok.” 

You nodded, finally pulling yourself out of her grasp and wiping your face with your arm. “I’ll try. Old habits die hard,”

“I know,” Alex hummed, and you knew she was saying more.

She was saying that she knew how hard it was for you to voice your feelings sometimes. How difficult it was for you to be open. 

She was saying that she knew you. 

And it had a warm feeling filtering deep in your tummy. 

You looked away, clearing your throat. “We should go back. It’s your night and you should get to enjoy it,”

Alex sighed.“ This doesn’t change my ability to enjoy my night. If you need more time, we have plenty,”

Your shoulders rolled, and your back straightened.  Your fingers tangled in the baby hairs at the back of your neck. 

It was something Alex had seen a million times. The way you pieced yourself back together, even when you didn’t necessarily have to. Even when you weren’t ready to. 

It was unsettling, how little this part of you had changed. 

“The only bad thing about the city lights is that you can’t see the stars,” She said, watching how the abrupt change in subject took an immediate effect. 

You blinked at her, your eyes instinctively glancing upward towards the sky, and your shoulders relaxing. 

Bingo she thought. 

You might not have had a conversation with her in years, but she still knew you. And your obsession with astronomy… well more like your obsession with Greek mythology and stars… hadn’t changed. 

You hadn’t changed all that much. Well, most of you, no matter how much you wanted to pretend otherwise. 

“Canis Minor is there,” You mumbled, pointing up at the sky barely visible surrounded by the neon lights of the city. “And Vela and Volans are there. It’s hard, but you can make them out,”

She hummed, not at all surprised that you could pick out the constellations even when you could only see a small part of them. But that wasn’t the point.

The point was how you relaxed. 

You looked back towards her, your hand dropping as you let out a shaky breath.  

“Let’s go back,” You said. “I don’t want your food to get cold,” 

Alex nodded. “As long as you’re ready,” 

You made a low sound in the back of your throat and turned back towards the restaurant. “Let’s go,” 

She signed, reminding herself that everything wouldn’t be fixed in a day. You wouldn’t be fixed in a day. It would take baby steps, and you had given her more today than you had in years. 

“Ok,” She agreed, letting you lead her back towards the restaurant, and your family. 

*****

“You sure you don’t want a ride kid?” Kelley asked, wrapping an arm around your shoulder. 

You nodded, forcing a smile across your lips. “Oh yeah, I’m good,” 

The end of dinner had actually been nice. 

No one had said a thing when you and Alex returned to the table, just before your food arrived. The conversation had been light, focused on the proposal, and no one had tried to force you to join in. 

They hadn’t even batted an eyelash when you pulled out your phone to text your girlfriend about where you would be sleeping, and made eye contact with the two men who had taken up a table in the back corner of the restaurant.

Desert had been… almost pain-free, which set you on edge. 

Nothing in your family came without a cost, and you wondered what it would be. Especially since Alex had come after you. 

But everyone said their goodbyes and headed to their cars with very little fanfare. 

All except for Kelley who was worried when you lingered near the entrance of the restaurant. 

“You don’t have to stand here with me,” you said, glancing down the street, looking for the familiar black Escalade you assumed Taylor would be sending to retrieve you. You figured Tony was driving, since he had disappeared, leaving Zach to linger a few feet away from you. “I'm just waiting for my Uber,”

Kelley made a low noise. “And while I’m sure your new mob friends could take care of you, Alex would kill me if I left you here without knowing your plan,” 

You blew out a breath, a strange warmth in your stomach at the thought that Alex would care. “My ride should be just around the corner. You can go, and I’ll be fine,” 

It didn’t even bug you that Emily had apparently convinced her you were in the mob too. 

“Burrito girl?” She asked, her features softening. 

You nodded, glancing sideways toward where Alex was standing. “Satisfied now?”

You weren’t ready for your older sister to know yet. You weren’t ready to hear about how you weren’t mature enough. Or how your reputation would impact your relationship. 

You didn’t want to be lectured about how much older Taylor was. 

Kelley wiggled her eyebrows as a black Escalade pulled around the corner. “Very,”

“You’re far too smug about this,” You huffed, again glancing towards your sister, who still seemed oblivious to your conversation. 

Kelley followed your eyes, and her smirk softened. “You know she wouldn’t be upset that you’re seeing someone right? She just wants you to be happy,” 

“I know,” You mumbled, feeling the kid you had forced over your emotions rattle in your chest. You had already been too vulnerable tonight. “I just… I’m still figuring it all out, and I don’t want the pressure yet,” 

Kelley made a low noise of agreement in the back of her throat. Like she wanted to argue with you, but knew you weren’t in a place to listen.

You wondered how much she knew about your earlier moment with Alex. How she knew so well not to push. 

The black Escalade came to a smooth stop in front of you, and Zach stepped up from behind you to stand near the rear passenger door. 

You appreciated that he didn’t say anything. 

“Tell your burrito mob boss hello,” Kelley said, patting your back. “And I’ll take care of your sister,” 

You rolled your eyes goodnaturedly at her before Zach opened the door for you and you slid into the backseat of the car. 

Zach closed the door behind you and was in the passenger seat before you could think too hard about what Kelley had said. 

“To Taylor’s apartment?” Tony asked you, glancing at you in the rearview mirror. “Or did you want to make a pitstop first?”

You blinked at him, not expecting to have a choice in where he was taking you. You figured Taylor had given him instructions already. That he would do whatever she told him to because she was the one paying his (probably incomprehensibly expensive) salary. 

You cleared your throat, meeting his eyes in the mirror. “Taylor’s apartment is fine, thanks,”

“No problem kid,” He winked, his eyes returning to the street ahead of him. 

Zach reached forward and flicked the radio, letting quiet pop fill the car, and you relaxed back into the leather seats. 

It was weird. This was weird. You felt so… off balance after your moment with Alex. It made you feel so vulnerable. 

You needed to get rid of the raw feeling in your chest. You needed control. 

You swallowed hard and looked out the window as the lights of the city passed. 

*****

One thing you absolutely loved about Taylor’s apartment was that it was always stocked with sweets. And since you had started dating, your favorites seemed to appear alongside the treats that she enjoyed. 

“How was dinner?” She asked you, passing you the container of chocolate frosting as you sat on her kitchen counter. 

She was dressed in short shorts and an old Philadelphia Eagles shirt, her feet bare. She was relaxed and comfortable. Which felt like a stark contrast to needles prickling in your stomach. The pins tingling the back of your neck. 

She had been waiting for you near the elevator when the SUV pulled into her private garage, and she welcomed you with a hug that was so… warm that it almost made you forget how raw you felt. 

She held you as you ascended to her apartment, and all the way into her kitchen, asking if you were up for a bit of dessert. 

You were surprised she hadn’t immediately tried to get you to talk about dinner with your sisters and Kelley. That she didn’t pry into it the second she had the chance like Mal would have. 

Now you found that you didn’t mind the question. 

“Fine,” You shrugged, sticking a spoon in the frosting and twisting it around, lifting it to examine the scoop you had made. “They mostly gushed over the ring Kelley picked, and how romantic it was to propose on the Empire State Building,”

You licked your spoon, pulling it into your mouth, and your eyes closed at the taste. 

It was silky and smooth, much better than the cheap frosting you always brought. 

“You don’t think it’s gush-worthy?” Taylor asked when your eyes fluttered back open. 

You paused, thinking about it for a long second as you got another scoop of frosting. 

You actually thought Kelley’s proposal was sweet. It combined some of your sister’s favorite things and one of her favorite places. It made sense. 

But it was so cliché.

 “For Alex it is,” You shrugged, sticking the spoon in your mouth, swirling your tongue around the ridges to get all of the delicious chocolate. 

Taylor hummed, stepping up between your legs, her hands running gently over the dark denim of our jeans. “But it’s not what you would want?”

You shook your head, scooping a bit more frosting on your spoon. 

“I think I’d want something more creative,” You said, your lips quirked up, as you held the spoon out for her. “You know, like under the Eiffel Tower,”

“So original,” She rolled her eyes, letting you slip the spoon past her lips.

Sharing food with her was a habit you had picked up. Something that settled the nagging feeling in the back of your mind that she was too skinny. That there was something… wrong with her relationship to food. 

Her fingers tightened around your thighs and you tilted the spoon up and her chin tilted to follow, exposing the long lines of her neck. You traced them with your eyes, swallowing hard. 

It had want bubbling in your stomach alongside the needles. It had you leaning into where you knew this evening was heading. Into the coping mechanism that hadn’t failed you yet, even though you so desperately wanted things with Taylor to be different. 

But maybe tonight they didn’t have to be. 

You hummed, pulling the spoon away. 

She let her tongue trail along it, her eyes fluttering open to make eye contact with you. “That’s good,”

“You bought it, so I would hope you like it,”

You dipped the spoon back into the container, pulling up a glob of frosting and bringing it to your lips. 

She watched you intently, waiting for the spoon to leave your mouth with a little pop before very slowly leaning in. It gave you enough time to pull away if you wanted to, but you didn’t want to. 

You needed this. To feel in control. 

You leaned forward, connecting your lips in a languid kiss. Her tongue gently pressed against your lips, and you opened your mouth to grant her access. 

It carefully explored around your mouth, dancing with your tongue in a slow waltz, licking the residual frosting from every surface it touched. 

She let out a low noise in the back of her throat as she pulled away. “That one tasted better,” 

You wiggled your eyebrows, dropping the spoon back into the container. “Did it now?” 

“It did,” She nodded, her thumbs running up and down your thighs. 

You leaned forward, connecting your lips again and slowly sliding off the counter. Your hands landed heavily on her hips and her arms draped across your shoulders, pulling you closer, her fingers playing with the baby hairs at the back of your neck. 

It was easy for you to snatch control of the kiss, Taylor gave it to you willingly. 

It should have smoothed over the frayed edges of your nerves. It should have quieted your thoughts and made you more present. 

Instead, you slipped farther into your head. 

You replayed the feelings of Alex’s hand in your hair, the weight of her arm around you. How you had made a promise you weren’t sure you really wanted to keep. 

Your lips never left her as she took a step back towards the hallway that led to her room, and you slipped your fingers under the hem of her shirt, skating along the waistband of her shorts.

You loved the smooth skin there, and the goosebumps that trailed after your light touch. They distracted you so much that you didn’t notice her turning down the hallway until you were stumbling over your feet to keep up. 

Her lips tilted into a smirk as she used her newfound leverage to switch your position. 

Your back hit the wall with a low thump. Her lips reattached to yours, one hand tangling in the hair at the base of your skull, and the other cupped your chin as she pressed you into the wall, her thigh landing heavily between your legs. 

It was more demanding, more needy, more in control. 

It jarred you out of your head. Out of the rabbit hole of how being honest with Alex would help you link the back line to the front line better. Of how it would allow more line breaking balls through towards the edge where your sister always danced to stay onside. 

“You didn’t think I was a pillow princess did you?” She asked, winking at your surprised eyes. 

You let out a sigh at the pressure against your core, doing everything in your power to prevent your hips from pulling back when she rocked against you. 

This you weren’t used to. This you had never done with anyone besides Mal. 

You sucked in a breath through your nose, deciding to focus on the things that you enjoyed. You leaned into the kiss. 

You liked the way her tongue explored your mouth. You liked how her fingers twitched against your jaw before they made their way to your collar. 

Your head tilted to give her more room as she began trailing warm, wet kisses down your neck.

A shiver ran down your spine when she hit the spot just below your right ear, and you let out another low sigh. She echoed the sound, her fingers deft as they undid the first button of your shirt. 

She let the blunt nail of her pointer finger graze your collarbone, trailing after her as she moved to the next button, leaving flames in its wake. 

Goosebumps erupted on the newly exposed skin, and you felt her smirk against your neck. 

Her long fingers splayed across your abs, tapping out a rhythm you couldn’t define. 

“Do you know how amazing these are?” She asked, her warm breath hitting the damp skin of your neck and sending a shiver down your spine as her fingers tapped you a bit harder. “I think about them all the time. It’s not fair that I’ve only gotten glimpses of them, especially with how much you show them off,”

“You were a bit distracted,” You smirked, projecting confidence that you didn’t feel, your fingers closing around her hips, trying to maintain a sliver of control. 

She flexed her thigh again to prevent you from flipping your positions though. 

“Hmm,” She hummed, a devilish smile cracking across her lips as she dropped to her knees. Your breath caught in your throat, and you splayed your hands on the wall behind you, trying to hide how much they were shaking. 

You didn’t know how to handle this. How to do this. 

“Well I’m not distracted now, and I’m going to give them the attention they deserve,” She said, her hands moving the edges of your shirt out of the way. 

You raised an eyebrow at her. “Are you now?” 

Your voice barely wobbled as you spoke, and you took it as a win. 

“I am,” she nodded, determination glinting in her eyes. She leaned forward, placing an open mouth kiss on the abb right above your left hip. Her tongue followed the ridge of the muscle to the other side. 

you bit your bottom lip and allowed your head to fall back against the wall with a low thump. 

You liked this touch. More than any touch you had ever had before. You had never let anyone get this far before, not even Mal really. 

Things had been quick with her, like touching you was an unpleasant chore. One neither of you had ever been fond of. 

This. This was different. 

Taylor took her time, lavishing each individual muscle as her warm mouth traveled around your stomach. A chill trailed after her lips, the air landing on your wet skin sending goosebumps across your flesh, stoking a foreign fire in your belly that was almost enough to quiet the growing dread. 

Almost. 

She made her way up your stomach, placing a line of kisses up your chest and collarbone before she again landed on the special spot on your neck. 

“Let’s get you out of these pants,” 

You sucked in a harsh breath through your nose, forcing yourself to remain relaxed. You tried to enjoy the feeling of her hands tracing the residue left on your stomach. Tried to focus on the softness of her lips on your neck and the scent of her perfume. 

Tried to let it drive away ghosts of calloused fingers and gruff voices. 

It almost worked. 

Then her thumb flicked open the button of your jeans, and you couldn’t temper your reaction. You couldn’t quell the growing anxiety in your chest. You froze, every muscle in your body going rigid for a split second before you could force them to relax again. 

You hoped that Taylor wouldn’t notice, but she did. 

“Y/n?” She said softly as she pulled back, her hands retreating from their position at your waist to cup your cheek, and her leg falling from between yours. 

Your eyes slowly fluttered open and met very worried blue. You could see the questions forming. The concern dripped from her form. 

But you knew you couldn’t answer.  You weren’t ready to unlock Pandora's box yet. Not when you knew you would never be able to shut it again. You only knew one way to stop her from asking. One way to regain control. 

You surged forward, your hands on her hips giving you the leverage to push her back against the wall opposite of you. Your mouth landed hot against her neck, lavishing the soft skin with open-mouthed kisses, and your thigh slotted between her legs pressing into her core with the perfect amount of pressure to distract her. 

“I’m ok,” You muttered hotly into her ear, pressing more firmly into her center. “Let me make you feel good,” 

She sucked in a breath, her hips stuttering like they wanted to grind against you, but she wouldn’t let them. 

You dragged your tongue down her neck, letting your teeth just barely graze her sensitive skin, and rocked your hips. Your thumbs scared along the sliver of skin just above her shorts trying to convince her to just go with it. 

To let her let you distract her. 

You thought for a second that it had worked, as a low groan left her lips. You thought that maybe you had… derailed her enough to forget about your momentary lapse in the hold you had on your emotions.  But just as you went to slip your hand into her pants she stopped you. 

Her palm pressed firmly into your chest, insistent until you pulled away enough to make eye contact with her. 

“I want us to both feel good,” she said sternly. 

You swallowed at the comment, fighting to keep your face neutral. 

“Making you feel good will make me feel good,”  You said, trying to lean back in, but the hand on your chest stopped you. 

“Y/n you tensed,” She said, her blue eyes burning into yours, looking for answers, the charge between you melting away. 

You sighed as you pulled away from her until your back hit the wall opposite of her. You ran a hand through your messy curls and glared up at her ceiling, unable to look at her. 

You were afraid that if you did, she would be able to read your mind. She would see the… brokenness you fought so hard to hide.  But you had never been able to hide from Taylor. 

Even before you were dating, you had let her closer to you than anyone had ever gotten before. She was scarily perceptive and had been able to read you from the beginning of your friendship even better than Mal could (and that was saying something). Her abilities only seemed to get more acute as you got closer. 

This was the only area she hadn’t seemed to pick up on. 

You let yourself slide down the wall, your eyes closing as you sucked in another breath.  You still felt so raw from your talk with Alex. Too… vulnerable. Like opening up again would finally crack your chest in half. 

“I’m,” You started and stopped, unsure of what you were actually going to say. “I’m not good at receiving,”

You settled on the phrase, drawing up the courage to finally open your eyes, pulling your knees close to your chest and resting your chin on them. 

You were surprised that Taylor had slid down her own wall so she was sitting across from you and mirroring your posture. 

She made a low sound in the back of her throat, and her eyebrows furrowed. “You’re not good at it?” 

There was no judgment in her voice. None of the disgust you expected. 

“I can’t ever get out of my head enough to… enjoy it I guess,” You cleared your throat and looked away from her, ignoring the heat in your cheeks. “No one’s ever noticed before”

It was a semi-truth. In your slew of hookups, no one had ever cared. No one had pushed back when you stopped them. No one had ever not let you distract them. 

But then again, Taylor was nothing like your hookups. 

You actually had feelings for her that stretched beyond self-loathing and the need to be in control of something. To be good enough. There was nothing quite like the rush that came from making a beautiful woman fall apart under you. It was irrefutable evidence that you were capable. 

Taylor’s eyes tightened. It physically hurt her that none of your past partners (if she could call them that) had cared enough beyond their own needs to see the obvious. And that you were willing to bypass your own comfort so someone else could feel good. 

She wanted to kick herself for not noticing that something was wrong sooner. 

“You’ve never talked through limits or likes and dislikes with any of the people you’ve slept with?”

You ran another hand through your hair (making it impossibly more messy) and let out a very long breath. 

You shrugged. “We were never doing anything beyond vanilla and it never progressed past a few one-sided orgasms,”

You had never let any of them touch you. Hell, you hadn’t even gotten undressed for most of them. The thought of doing anything… kinky sent a shiver down your spine so you hadn’t. It was just easier to keep distance from the people you slept with. It was safer that way. 

Taylor shifted, very slowly scooting towards you, reaching out to place a gentle hand on your foot like she thought you would freak out if she moved too fast. 

“Well, I think there’s a need now,” Taylor said, watching your every movement. 

Your eyes were scarily hollow, accented by the red that rimmed them from the time you had made it to her apartment. She had wanted to ask about it. Pushed just a little to find out if you had been crying, and why. But you didn’t seem to want to talk about it. 

You had pivoted to sex almost as soon as she tried to bring it up. It sent red flags up in her mind. Red flags that only got brighter. 

She couldn’t help but replay every interaction the two of you had had in her mind. There would be time to agonize over every little detail later, but even now, your… reluctance to undress, or allow her to touch you was glaringly obvious. How the moment she flipped your typical script, you couldn’t hide it anymore. 

She was slightly ashamed she hadn’t noticed it before. That she had ignored the signs of your discomfort, even if they were well masked. 

Have you ever wanted to have sex? Had she put you in a position where you didn’t feel like you could refuse? 

She never wanted you to feel forced, whether that was about talking about how you were feeling or having sex. She wanted you to feel comfortable enough to tell her when you weren’t ok with something. 

Your nose dipped behind your thighs, your forehead pressed into your knees, and you squeezed your arms more tightly around them like you were literally trying to hold yourself together. 

Her heart broke a little more at the barely audible “ok” that left your lips. 

She scooted closer to you, her hand carefully drawing up your shin and weaving in your curls. Her nails scratched gently on your scalp, and you practically melted. 

Your shoulders relaxed and you let out a long breath before you shifted to look up at her, your chin balanced on your knees. 

She brushed a curl from in front of your eyes. “When did you start to feel uncomfortable?”

You scrunched your nose. It was a hard question. 

 You weren’t sure how you were supposed to explain that your mind went to soccer as soon as anything remotely intimate started. How were you supposed to explain that you were just defective? 

But maybe you didn’t have to. 

She didn’t ask you that. All she asked was when you started to feel uncomfortable, and that answer was easy.

It was the moment your back hit the wall. The moment you were jarred out of the safe space in your head.

The moment she forced you to be present, unlike every other girl you had ever been with.  

But you weren’t entirely uncomfortable. Maybe at the start, but you had enjoyed parts of being with her. You wanted to enjoy being with her.  But you were just… incapable. Defectives 

You settled for a shrug, curling tighter into yourself. You didn’t want her to see how… fucked up you were. It would only push her away.

That’s what pushed Mal away.  And Alex. And your parents. 

You would never be good enough, and you had just wanted to pretend as long as you could. You weren’t ready to lose Taylor yet. 

“Ok. It’s ok,” Taylor’s voice was gentle, and her hand trailed to tangle in the baby curls at the back of your neck. “Let’s try something else. Can you tell me what you liked?”

Your eyebrows furrowed. “This time?” 

“Any of the times,” She said soothingly, her fingers never stopping their gentle scratches at the back of your neck. 

You closed your eyes, leaning back into her hand. “I like it when you do this,” 

She hummed, and you could hear a smile in it. “Anything else?”

“I like kissing you,” You mumbled, feeling the red flair in your cheeks. 

Her lips always tasted like coffee, and something so… Taylor. They were addictive in the best way. 

“And I like holding you,” You added. There was something comforting about having her in your arms. Something that made you feel safe. “And I like it when you hold me,” 

“But the rest?”  She asked you gently. 

Your shoulders lifted and fell. You did what was expected of you. What you knew worked. 

You went with the flow just like Emily told you too, and then had been too caught in your head to savor the moment. To take in all of the little details that you wanted to remember. No matter how hard you fought, you just… couldn’t. 

You quite liked touching her too, but you knew there was something wrong with your inability to remain in the moment when you did. You knew that she deserved for you to be present. 

“I’m just not good at receiving,” You repeated, misery leaking into your tone. 

It was the only response you could come up with. The only explanation that remotely made sense. This was when she would realize you were… defective. This was when she would leave. But she didn’t. 

She gently squeezed the back of your neck. A silent request for you to look at her and a comforting touch that told you that it was ok. It took you a second to gain the courage to look up, but when you did, you didn’t see the disgust you expected. 

Her eyes were soft, sad, and they held another emotion you couldn’t quite put your finger on. “I like holding and kissing you too,”

She shifted a little closer to you, so her knee was touching yours. “And I’ll hold and kiss you for as long as you’ll let me, at whatever pace makes you feel comfortable,” 

You made a low noise. 

It was strange. Conceptually, you could understand what she was saying, but you had never been with someone who didn’t judge you based on your ability to give them an orgasm. You wondered how long her patience would last. How long would she stay when she realized how deeply you were fucked up. 

“How about we go cuddle on the couch and watch a movie?” She asked, squeezing the back of your neck gently. 

Your nose scrunched as she pulled away, pushing herself to her feet and holding her hand out to you. “You know I don’t like movies,” 

You didn’t have the attention span for them, and you would inevitably get bored halfway through. 

She hummed, wiggling her fingers so you would take her hand. “How about survivor then?” 

Your tension melted at the mention of your favorite show, and your easy smile returned to your features.

“Yes! We have to watch Heroes vs Villains so you can see Russel at his finest,” You said, allowing her to pull you into her side.

“Whatever you want sunshine,” She kissed your forehead and guided you back towards her living room. 

It felt like going to her bedroom was too much, too fast. She didn’t want you to think she had some… expectations despite the clear signs that you were not ready to progress past cuddling. Not while you would so easily compromise your limits. 

Not while your limits still felt so unclear. 

She knew that it would take time to work through that, and she was willing to wait and help you for as long as it took. 

*****

Soft morning light filtered into your consciousness, waking you gently. You breathed in deeply, shifting on a bed that you knew wasn’t yours. 

It smelled like lilacs and Taylor’s perfume, sweet and inviting and safe. You could hear soft music from somewhere else in the apartment and felt cool sheets next to you. 

You frowned, pushing yourself to a sitting position with a yawn. It was rare you woke up after Taylor. That you slept in in general. 

But it shouldn’t have surprised you with what had happened last night. Sure, the two of you had fallen asleep together just after Pavarti and Russel had schemed to take down the Hero’s tribe during the merge. Taylor held you just like she promised, but you should have known it wouldn’t last. 

A good nights sleep had opened her eyes. She had reflected and decided you were too… broken to be worth it. 

“Fuck,” You mumbled, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes with the palms of your hands. 

You should have stopped her before she got to your pants. You should have been more subtle and slipped your position instead of tensing. 

You should have been prepared to lose hold on the iron box that held your emotions. You should have had more control. 

But you didn’t, and now you were most likely going to lose your girlfriend. 

She would break up with you in the sweetest way possible. She would say that it was her. That she was the problem, and you would accept that. 

You would nod along, and make it easy for her.  Just like you had with Mal when she told you that Dansby was her soulmate. That he was so good and perfect. 

You dragged your hands up your face, and into your hair, ruffling your messy curls as you pushed yourself out of bed.  There was no point in drawing this out longer than it needed to be.  

You stretched, pulling your shirt down over your boxers as you padded out of Taylor’s room towards the sound of the music. You could also make out soft voices as you got closer. Your eyebrows furrowed. Who was Taylor talking to? 

You peeked your head around the corner, your frown deepening when you saw a redhead sitting at the island across from Taylor, a large stack of papers sitting to the right of her, drinking a cup of coffee and humming to a song you had never heard before. 

Why was she here? 

Taylor turned from the stove, catching sight of you before you could hide back behind the wall. “Hey babe, good morning,” She said brightly, smiling widely at you. 

“Morning,” You said slowly, stepping out from behind the hallway wall. 

She gestured to the woman across from her. “This is Tree,”

“Hello,” You waved awkwardly at the redhead. 

“She just swang by to hear a bit of the new album,” Taylor explained easily, turning back towards the cabinets. “Do you want some coffee?”

Tree smiled brilliantly at you, showing off perfectly white teeth in a way that surprisingly didn’t feel forced. 

But you could sense the lie in Taylor’s explanation of why her publicist was there. Of why the woman who handled all of Taylor’s outward appearances appeared with a massive contract right after you had shown her how defective you were? 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” She said, pushing out the stool next to her, a clear invitation to sit. 

You shifted awkwardly from foot to foot and dragged a hand through your hair. 

Neither of them seemed… angry. Or like they were plotting the fastest way to get you out of the apartment. But you didn’t trust it. All of your instincts told you not to. 

“Nice to meet you too,” You said slowly, stepping towards the stool and gesturing to the stack of papers. “Listen, I’ll sign whatever you want me to sign. Can I just take a shower before you kick me out?”

“What?” Taylor and Tree said in unison, Taylor nearly dropping the mug she was holding and Tree’s eyes tightening. 

“I just hate to put on clean clothes without showering,” You scratched more insistently at the back of your neck, your fingers tangling in the tight curls at the base of your skull. “And Alex and Kelley would think it’s weird if I show up to their house in what I wore last night, and I won’t be able to accurately answer their questions,”

Taylor’s eyebrows pulled tightly together and she set the mug down, stepping closer to the island. “Y/n, slow down,” 

You ignored her. You knew you were rambling at this point but you couldn’t stop yourself. “I promise I’ll be in and out in like 5 minutes. I won’t even do my hair,” 

“Y/n stop,” Taylor moved around the island, catching your hand as it began to tug at the roots of your curls.

“What are you talking about?” She asked you softly, ducking to catch your eye. 

“You’re going to break up with me because of what happened,” You rushed out, catching her frown and immediately backtracking. “Which is totally fine. I understand that you want someone… with less baggage. I just want to take a shower before you make me leave,”

“I’m not breaking up with you,” 

You blinked at her.  What was that supposed to mean? 

Was she going to make you do it so she could be the good guy? Was her publicist there to witness it so they could write a story about it? 

“Do you want me to break up with you then?” You asked, softly. You hated the fragility in your voice. 

Taylor’s head cocked to the side and she raised an eyebrow at you. “No,” 

It was your turn to frown. “I don’t understand what’s happening,”

“I’m not breaking up with you. You’re not breaking up with me,” She said like it was simple, tugging you towards the stools. “You’re going to sit down and drink your coffee while I make breakfast. You can talk to Tree if you like, or just listen to some of the tracks from my new album. But no one is getting kicked out or leaving,”

“Oh,” You breathed out, your shoulders dropping. “I don’t like eggs,”

“I know,” Taylor rolled her eyes, an amused smirk on her lips as she turned back towards the counter. “I’m making pancakes,”

“With chocolate chips?” You asked, watching her warily as you took the seat next to Tree slowly. 

You felt like you were in a stupid rom-com that Alex would like. Like you were the idiot boyfriend who was lost. 

“Of course,” Taylor hummed, sliding you a mug. “Drink your coffee,” 

“So I heard you’re going to be playing for Washington this season,” Tree said, and you really looked at her for the first time. 

Her eyes were kind, and she actually seemed… interested. 

“If they ever get me a place to live,” You shrugged, clearing your throat. “Their manager keeps giving me the runaround and preseason starts in like 2 weeks,”

Her eyebrows pulled tightly together and she tapped her perfectly manicured nail on the edge of her mug, just beside the tea bag string. “They haven’t figured that out yet?”

“No. The only option they sent me doesn’t allow pets, which is a serious problem for my 3 huskies,” You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. 

To be honest, your move to DC was nearly as painful as the one from North Carolina to Chicago. You just hoped that this time there wouldn’t be a dismembered toe in whatever apartment they put you up in. And hopefully, you had working AC…

The redhead's frown deepened. “Don’t you have a manager that takes care of that?” 

Your nose scrunched. “He’s not helpful,”

Your manager, Travis, had never been… involved. You were one of his 70 clients, and he preferred to do nothing besides collect his paycheck while teams fucked you this way and that. He rarely ever answered your calls, and when he did, he acted like a total slimeball. One more than one occasion he had insisted that he could turn you straight. 

Taylor turned away from the stove, meeting Tree’s frown. You could tell there was a question on the tip of her tongue, one you probably didn’t want to answer just as much as you didn’t want to talk about what had happened last night. 

Tree shook her head slightly, a movement just barely perceptible, making a low sound in the back of her throat and pulling out her phone. “I’ll take care of it,”

You blanched as Taylor turned back to the stove, flipping a pancake. 

You reached for Tree’s arm before she could fully stand from her stool. “No, that's ok. I can figure it out,” 

You didn’t need anyone else to get involved. You didn’t need to make a big deal out of this. You were sure it would only make it worse for you when you arrived. 

You’d heard that the Washington coach Richie was no better than Paul or Rory, and you knew the only way to deal with it was by not making waves. By gritting your teeth and keeping your head down. 

Tree smiled, squeezing your arm and grabbing her phone as she stepped towards the back balcony. “I’ll be right back,” 

You sighed when she disappeared through the glass doors, sinking into the stool, looping your hand through the mug handle, and taking a long drag of your coffee. 

It was perfect. Sweet and light exactly how you liked it, and the soft music playing in the background only made it better. You had never heard this song before. It was just a guitar track, with Taylor’s voice and you found yourself entranced by it. 

I know that it’s delicate, delicate.

You pressed your fingers into the side of your mug as you took another long sip, your eyes following Taylor as she hummed along to the song while flipping the pancakes onto a plate. 

She turned back towards you, sliding the plate across the marble island, and leaning against it. She waited for you to take a bite of your favorite breakfast, smiling when your eyes practically rolled back into your head at the taste. 

Her new music wasn’t the only reason Tree had visited. But she knew she had to explain that very… carefully. She didn't want to set you off, especially when you still seemed so frazzled from the night before. When you thought she would kick you out for tensing. 

She had her suspicions about why your reaction had been so strong, suspicions she had briefly discussed with Tree, but she knew she had to tread carefully. She had the feeling that if you felt too vulnerable, you would shut down entirely. 

But considering the pictures the news media had tried to splash across the headlines, she wasn’t surprised that you had tried to use sex as a distraction (or something else she couldn’t quite put her finger on). It seemed like it was your go-to method, and explained why you had been so content to leave a trail of bodies in the wake of your reputation. 

She also wasn’t surprised that it had ended… the way it did. You had already been emotionally vulnerable. Too vulnerable to have the kind of sex that was deeper than just movements and orgasms. 

She sighed. She would have to tell you why Tree was there, preferably before Tree herself told you. 

“Paparazzi got pictures of you and Alex last night,” She said, trying to stay casual. Trying to make it seem like no big deal. 

You paused, fork full of pancake freezing midair in its trajectory to your mouth for a brief second before you dropped it with a clatter back onto the plate. 

“Fuck me,” You groaned, dragging your palms over your face and through your hair. “Fuck me hard,”

It was another problem. Another thing for you to deal with. When honestly, you just wanted to pretend like last night had never happened. 

All you needed was for the fans to get ahold of a photo of you crying. 

She suppressed a chuckle. “It’s ok, Tree already took care of it,” 

You paused, your fingers scrunching in your hair before you dragged them back down your face and picked up your fork. 

Your eyes stayed closed for a long second before they opened slowly and you resumed eating like nothing had ever happened. 

It was like watching an actor pull on a mask, how you folded all of your emotions up neatly and pushed them inside. It was… incredible and sent alarm bells blazing in Taylor’s mind. 

“Oh. Um. Thanks,” 

You could feel her eyes appraising you. 

“It’s no problem,” She said with a little shrug, bringing her own mug to her lips. 

You went back to your pancakes, the only sound between you the scraping of your fork on her plate and the song playing again in the background. Your mind wandered through the chorus, enjoying the way the beat drop tickled the little spot in the back of your head. Your eyes swept across the kitchen landing on the giant stack of papers in front of Tree’s empty stool. 

“What are the papers?” You asked after a moment, pointing to it with your fork when the music died down and the song restarted. 

Taylor reached for it, placing it between you and spinning it so you could read it. You didn’t. The print was small and close together, and you didn’t want to give yourself a headache. 

“You said that no one has ever discussed limits and boundaries with you, so I thought it might be nice to do that,” Taylor explained carefully. 

You raised an eyebrow at her. “So you printed a packet?”

“Well, no,” She shook her head. “I know you said that you had never done anything beyond vanilla, but I have, and I think it’s important to thoroughly know my partners limits,”

You let a teasing smirk play across your lips, sinking into the teasing to cover how… off kilter you felt. 

You had never discussed limits. With anyone. And it scared you what she could discover. What if something you said turned her off? What if she didn’t want you after you filled out her packet? 

“I didn’t know you were kinky Miss Swift,” You said, wiggling your eyebrows. “Or is there some other title you prefer?” 

A bright red blush spread across her cheeks, traveling down her neck, and she looked away from you. 

Before you could follow up, to make the gorgeous red color travel further, the sound of the glass door opening echoed through the kitchen, and Tree stepped back inside. 

“Ok. I’ve got your housing settled, and I ordered a moving crew to help you,” Tree said as she sat back down beside you, seemingly oblivious to the tension between you and Taylor. 

Or maybe she was just better at ignoring Taylor’s reactions.,

You blinked owlishly at her. “I’m sorry, what?”

“All you have to do is text this number with the date you want to move and they’ll help you get all of your belongings down to DC,” She said, handing you a sticky note with a number on it. 

You had no idea where she had gotten it, but you were thankful for it. 

“Oh, uh, thanks,”

She nodded. “If you have any more issues, call me and I’ll take care of it until we can get you a good manager,”

You swallowed your surprise. You weren’t even sure how to go about finding a new manager, and you doubted you could afford one. You weren’t entirely sure how the whole thing worked actually. But Tree seemed to know exactly what to do. 

You turned back to your plate, taking another bite of your pancakes.  They were like heaven, second only to the Pancakes Kelley made. But something nagged at the back of your mind. Taylor didn’t have a plate in front of her, and there wasn’t one in the sink. You supposed she could have placed it in the dishwasher. 

“Aren’t you going to eat?” You asked, your fork pausing midair. 

She shook her head. “I’m not hungry,” 

A frown pulled at your lips.  Now that you thought about it, Taylor was not hungry a lot. She rarely ate snacks when you did, and you were pretty sure she had never finished a meal with you. 

“Then I'm not hungry,” You responded, already pushing the half-finished plate away from you, despite the way your mouth watered for more. “Unless you want to share these?”

She sighed heavily, but took your fork nonetheless, stabbing a tiny piece of pancake not drowned in syrup and bringing it to her lips. 

“Happy?” She asked you, and your smirk turned real. 

“I’m always happy when I’m with you,” 

*****

“I don’t understand what that means,” You muttered, reading number 372 of Taylor’s limit questionnaire. 

Touching while under sense deprivation

Most of the list had been easy. Things you knew you liked (like kissing), and things you knew you would never want (impact play with a cane). The rating system had also been easy to understand: things you liked and had done, things you wanted to try, things you would only try with lengthy discussion, and things you never wanted to try. 

Taylor highlighted her preference in green Sharpie and you did yours in orange as the two of you worked through her packet cuddled on her couch. She had been insistent that the two of you fill out the packet after lunch, and Tree left to give the two of you some privacy. 

“It means the use of a blindfold or headphones that cut off one of your senses,” She explained, already highlighting a would like to try in her green highlighter. “It can be fun. When one sense is taken away, others tend to heighten,”

You swallowed hard, biting your lip as the red in your cheeks got impossibly darker. 

“I,” you swallowed hard and looked away from her. “I don’t want to do anything where I can’t see you,” 

You had enough problems remaining in the moment with her. The idea that you wouldn’t be able to see her terrified you. 

It scared you to think about where your brain might take you. 

“Ok,” She agreed easily, placing a perfect orange swipe over never try, already moving on to the next one. 

It made your head spin how… comfortable with this she was. 

It was like she had done this before. She said she liked to know her partner's limits, so maybe she had. You had never asked about past relationships before. 

“This isn’t your first time going through this list, is it?” you asked, but the question was more of a statement than an actual question. 

She paused, halfway through reading hands restrained while partner touches- giving and looked at you. 

“No, it’s not,” She admitted gently. “I… I would rather be over prepared than cross a line that I didn’t know was there,”

Your head tilted, and you raised an eyebrow at her. “And you were doing kinky shit like touching your partner while their hands were restrained?”

“Sometimes,” She shrugged, her eyes narrowing. “But I feel like that wasn’t the question you actually wanted to ask me,”

It was slightly scary how well she could read you sometimes. 

You bit your lip. Your questions weren’t polite, but then again you were discussing allowing her to restrain you while you had sex. It was more… intimate than anything you had done with any of your partners, but Taylor seemed… comfortable. 

She had done this before, and you wondered… how many others had been in your position. 

“You’ve had relationships before?” You asked slowly, picking your cuticle and looking away from her. 

“Yes?” She asked back, using a finger under your chin to gently get you to meet her eyes again, as she raised her eyebrow. 

“I was wondering if you would tell me a little bit more about them,” 

“I’ve had a few, some vanilla, some not so vanilla. A few with men, but the serious ones have only been with women,” She said, her voice soft, like she knew you were insecure about asking. “Is there anything specific you would like to know?”

Your fingers picked more instantly at your thumb. “Were you-… did they-…”

Her thumb ran over your elbow. “Relax and take a deep breath,”

You did, except it didn’t help you. You felt like a fish gaping out of water. You forced your mouth to close, dragging in a deep breath through your nose. 

“You said you weren’t a pillow princess,” You mumbled, and a rye smile crossed her lips. 

“You want to know if I was tying people up or if they were tying me up?” 

You gulped but nodded. That had indeed been your question. 

“Well. The dynamic I had with my partners changed with each partner,” She explained thoughtfully. “I found early on that I preferred to give rather than receive, but sometimes it’s nice to just let go and let someone else take care of you,” 

You made a low sound as you took in the information. Really, it should have been obvious with the way she already took care of you.  She waited for you to ask a follow-up, as the silence stretched between you. When it became clear that you weren’t going to ask, she asked a question of her own. 

“Can I ask you a question?” Her head tilted, and she waited for you to nod. “The situationship?”

Your nose involuntarily scrunched. “What about it?”

“I was wondering if you would tell me a little bit more about it,” she mimicked your phrasing gently. 

You pulled your chin from her hand and looked away from her again.  It was… hard for you to talk about what happened with Mal. It still stung in a way you didn’t expect, even though you didn’t… want her anymore. Not like you had. 

“It was a teammate. We were under a lot of pressure, and it just kinda… happened,” You mumbled.  “I got hooked and she didn’t, so she chose someone else,”

Taylor made a low noise of understanding in the back of her throat. “But not before stringing you along,”

Your lips pressed into a thin line and you shook your head. “No,” 

You didn’t want to give her more details, to let yourself remember the agony of how it all devolved. How it felt like she was running you over broken glass every time you interacted. Giving you hope just to swipe it away at the last second. 

“For how long?” Taylor asked softly, drawing your eyes back to her. 

“Almost 4 years,” You sighed, running your hand through your hair and massaging the back of your neck. “The last time we hooked up was like 3 months after you and I became friends,” 

Her eyes tightened as she did the math in her head. That would make you 13 or 14 when it started. A shiver went down her spine. “So young,” 

You shrugged, your fingers digging more deeply into the skin on your neck. “Weird things happen at youth camp,” 

“Apparently,” She muttered. 

Your reaction to her trying to touch you was starting to make sense. If you had started young, and had a… bad experience… 

You cleared your throat. “How long was your last relationship?”

She blinked at you, pulling out of her thoughts. “5 years and some change,”

“Do you talk to any of your exes?” You asked.  “Like the serious ones?”

“No, those bridges went down in flames, but I keep up with a few of the less serious ones,” She shook her head. “I’m assuming you still talk to your ex situationship?”

“She’s one of my best friends,” Your shoulders lifted and fell, and your lips formed a very thin line at calling Mal a friend. You disliked how she UNC all over you, and things were… weird when you interacted, but you couldn’t exactly do anything about it. She was an integral part of your friend group and of the team. “Does it bother you?”

“No,” She said thoughtfully, reaching over to catch your hand as it again ran through your hair. “Because I trust you,” 

“I trust you too,” You said back, and you meant it with everything in you. You trusted Taylor more than you trusted nearly anyone. 

She smiled gently at you. “Do you want to continue this list?” 

You nodded slowly. “Let’s do this,” 

You glanced back down at the stack of papers between you. Yes, it was uncomfortable, but you trusted Taylor. 

OoOoOoO May 2017 You come around and the armor falls Pierce the room like a cannonball Now all we know is don't let go

“You are too fast for your own good,” Ali Krieger sighed, settling down on the bench beside you as you squirted more water into your mouth. 

You shrugged. “You and Dydasco keep leaving a gap for me to split, and Mal is good at finding space,”

The Washington Spirit captain hummed, sipping her own bottle. 

The defender had taken you under her wing as soon as you stepped foot in DC. She had shown up at your apartment ready to help you unpack, only to find it immaculately set up. She had taken you to lunch instead and introduced you to the rest of the team. 

They were wary at first given your reputation, but they were slowly finding out that you weren’t what everyone claimed you were. 

“Dude, that little through ball is sick!” Mal said before Ali could respond, throwing her arm around you and sitting on the bench practically in your lap. “We can totally use that against Sky Blue,”

You shuffled away from her as far as you could without being obvious, taking another long sip of your drink. “Kelley will be looking for it. She’s seen us do it too much,”

Ali had noticed that there was something… odd about the way you interacted with Mal. 

The two of you were inseparable, and your chemistry on the field was entirely unmatched. But there was just something she couldn’t quite put her finger on that bothered her about how Mal was with you. 

How you tried to squirm away from her without drawing attention to it, and how Mal would only move closer. How there was a depth to your relationship with the forward, a history, that Ali hadn’t been aware of before. 

Mal grabbed your water and squirted some into her own mouth while squeezing your shoulder. “Maybe we can discuss a new game plan over drinks?” 

Ali raised her eyebrow. “You’re both underage,”

“Hasn’t stopped Y/n before,” Mal shrugged, nudging you with a giggle. “She can take down a case of beer all on her own,”

You scrunched your nose, and brought your free hand to the back of your neck, pressing deeply into the skin. 

“Um, no thanks,” You said. “I have plans,” 

Mal froze, dropping the water bottle into your lap, and inadvertently getting your pants wet. 

“Plans?”  Mal’s eyes narrowed at you, and the edge in her voice made you shiver. “Which one of our teammates are you fucking tonight?”

A grimace crossed your features, but you smothered it under a mask of indifference, as you brought your shoulders up to touch your ears. “None of them,” 

Mal relaxed, ever so slightly. “Ah, so you finally got the app Lindsey suggested?” 

“No. I don’t use straight dating apps,” You huffed, righting the water bottle. “I don’t need the internet to pick up interested parties, but I’m not seeing some rando either. Not that it’s any of your business,” 

“Who was in your pants used to be entirely my business,” Mal mumbled, pressing a finger into the spot right below your ear, dragging it down the curve of your chin, and using it to tilt your head to make eye contact with her. “You liked it being my business,”

You stared her down, something passing between you that Ali didn’t understand. 

“And you made sure that it wasn’t anymore,” You said, your voice cold as ice as you pushed her hand away, and squirted more water into your mouth. 

“Ok,” Ali said, breaking the tension between you and the forward. “So Kelley will be wise to the through ball, what do you suggest?”

She had never seen you be so… direct. 

You put more space between you and Mal, your lip caught between your teeth for a long moment before you shrugged. “I’m sure Richie has a plan. He’s the master strategist isn’t he?” 

“You’ve had enough film sessions with him, so you tell me,” Ali countered. 

A dark look crossed your features, there for a split second before it was gone. Replaced by an easy smirk that Ali was learning wasn’t so easy. It was the face you made every time something made you uncomfortable and you didn’t want to talk about it. 

You took another sip from your water before you squirted it at Mal. “I’m sure he’s got a plan for his superstar,” 

You pushed yourself off the bench and ran off towards the midfield coach before either of them could stop you, and Mal went tearing off after you. 

Ali shook her head.  If only she had as much energy as you two. But still, there was something… nagging in the back of her mind. Red flags she couldn’t quite place. 

*****

You hummed quietly to yourself as you lit the final candle on your dining room table. 

The table was set. The dinner was in the oven set to the exact temperature Kelley recommended (after she walked you through how to turn it on), removed from its take-out containers and placed in glass dishes, and the trash had been removed taking with it any evidence that your meal hadn’t been created in your kitchen well before Taylor arrived at your apartment (and you had sworn Tony and Zach to secrecy). 

You had cleared off the counter in your kitchen, save for a thick off-white envelope, and a bottle of the red wine you knew Taylor preferred.  It would be the perfect date night. 

Taylor had flown in from Nashville to spend the midweek break with you, and you were fucking stoked. The two of you had seen each other in passing, but getting really quality time together during the season was rough. Nothing would stop you this weekend. 

“This is gorgeous,” Taylor hummed as she stepped into the kitchen area. “And it smells amazing,”

You smiled widely at her, pulling out a chair. “Thanks. I was just about to pull it out of the oven if you wanna sit?”

“Such a gentlewoman,” She said, as she sat, and you felt a bit of red color your cheeks. 

You had been called many things, but a gentleman (woman- whatever) was never one of them. People tended to believe your reputation and take you at face value. 

You were pretty sure Taylor was the only person to ever look past it. 

You turned away from her, moving towards the oven. “Only for you,”

She hummed, and you felt her eyes as you got the food out of the oven, and turned off the device before you brought it over to her. 

“It looks amazing,” She said as you placed the cookware on the table, and more red bloomed across your cheeks. 

“Thanks,” You mumbled, joining her at the table. “It’s coconut curry with chicken, broccoli and rice. It’s got a lot of good fats and protein,”

It was a habit you had started in March, listing out the good parts of your meal. You noticed that she never saw food as fuel or something to be enjoyed. It always seemed like a chore she dreaded or a part of her day she just omitted entirely. You worried and you hoped that your little talks might change her view. So far you had been (mildly) successful. 

Taylor hummed and spooned herself a good portion. “I like coconut curry. I have it a lot after shows,” 

“Good,” You smiled as the red bled up your cheeks towards your ears. “It’s one of my favorites during the season because it meets all of my macros and is filling,” 

Taylor hummed again. “What’s the envelope on your counter?”

You rolled your eyes at the thought of the off-white envelope, with your address written in perfect cursive. “A wedding invitation,”

Taylor’s eyebrows pulled tightly together. “I thought they got engaged in March? They’re already setting a date?”

“We have to plan around tournaments, so they picked the only time everyone will be available,” You mumbled, chewing your too-large mouthful. “Spring of 2018”

“Still seems like a fast turnaround,” Taylor said thoughtfully. 

You shrugged. “They’ve been together for like 10 years. Alex has probably been planning this for years. She can read minds, and she’s a control freak so she probably knew Kelley was going to propose as soon as Kelley started looking at rings,” 

“Ah, I see,” 

You fidgeted in your chair, your fork aimlessly scraping your plate. “Do you want to be my date?” 

It nigged in the back of your mind that the two of you might not even be together in a year and a half, and that you were probably asking her to be your date way too far in advance. 

“Unless you hate me by then,” You added, forcing a playful smirk across your lips. 

She rolled her eyes at you, swallowing her bite. “I won’t hate you by then, and I would love to be your date,”

You nodded. “I’ll talk to Alex and Kelley about getting a plus one,” 

Taylor hummed and took another bite, chewing slowly. “I also wanted to talk to you about maybe trying something new,”

You raised your eyebrow at her. “What did you have in mind?” 

“Well,” She started. “When we filled out the limits sheet you mentioned that you didn’t like all touches, so I thought we could maybe walk through those boundaries, and I’ve never seen you naked, which is kinda criminal,”

“So? You want to what?” You asked, watching her carefully. 

“Shower together,” She said, meeting your eyes. “This way it’s something we’ve done, just-“

 “I’ll actually take my clothes off this time?” You asked, meeting her eyes. 

“And you can show me where you’re comfortable being touched and where you’re not,” Taylor continued gently. “I think it might be a good exercise in intimacy without expectations,” 

You nodded, taking a shaky breath. “Ok,”

“Ok,” 

*****

Water cascaded down your body in ripples, rolling over the goosebumps that littered your skin. Your fingers tapped against your hips, as you tried to force yourself to relax. 

“We don’t have to do this Y/n,” Taylor said from behind the shower curtain. 

You thought that this would be… easier if you get into the water first. That it would ease the bubbling anxiety in your chest. 

It didn’t. But you weren’t ready to give up yet. You wanted to trust her. 

“No,” You said, your voice more shaky than you would have liked it to be. “It’s ok. You can get in,” 

You turned towards the water, letting the spray hit your face, as you heard the distinct crinkle of the shower curtain. 

You felt her warm presence behind you, though she didn’t reach out to touch you. 

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself before you turned back to face her. 

“I want to do this,” You mumbled, meeting her eyes, trying not to scan down her body. You appreciated that her blue orbs remained steadfastly locked with yours. 

“As long as you’re sure,” Taylor said softly. “You can tell me to stop at any point, and we will. Red, yellow and green still apply,” 

Your lip disappeared between your teeth and you nodded. 

You understood the stoplight system that the two of you had discussed. Red for stop, yellow for slow down or discuss first and green for good. You swore you would try for her, so you would. 

“Remember that I need a verbal?” Taylor asked you. 

“Yes. I’m ok. Green,” You said, your voice shaking more than you wanted it to. “Just…”

You looked away from her, finding a spot on the wall above her head. “Just go slow,”

“Of course,” Taylor promised you. “We’ll go at your pace. Even if today we just stand there, that’s ok,”

You nodded again. 

You didn’t like how… vulnerable you felt without your top on. 

It was too close. Too intimate and that’s part of the reason you had never done this with anyone before. 

But Taylor wasn’t just anyone.

You wanted to give Taylor this. 

You closed your eyes and let out a long breath. It shook as it left your lungs, disappearing into the steam building between you. 

You reached out slowly, catching her hands. “Let me show you where my boundaries are,” 

You went to tug her hands forward, but she resisted. 

“Can you look at me while we do this?” She asked, her voice gentle. “I want you to be present, here with me,”

It took you a very long second for you to open your eyes, and another for them to drag down her forehead and meet her blue. 

She smiled softly at you. “Thank you,”

Your head bobbed briefly, and you squeezed her hands. It shouldn’t be this hard for you to let someone touch you. 

The two of you stood there for several minutes before you gained the courage to pull her forward again. She went with you this time, letting you bring her hands to the hard lines of your stomach just below your belly button. 

“Here is ok,” You said, trailing her fingers up the center of your abs to your diaphragm before you moved them out to your sides and back down to the original level. 

“My whole back is ok too,” You murmured, feeling her nails dragging across your lower back, meeting at your spine. 

Your eyes slipped closed at the feeling. At how you could feel the body heat rolling off of her because of how close she was to you.

“Color?” She asked, and you could feel the words on your lips. 

Your eyes blinked open, meeting the fire burning in hers. “Green,”

“Good,” She said. “Stay with me, ok?”

“Ok,” You breathed back, as her fingers moved up your spine like she was counting each of them. 

You did your best to remind yourself that it was her hands on you as they finally reached your shoulders. They outlined your collarbone, and her thumbs brushed against your neck. 

It felt like a warm flame traveling from the point of her touch up to your cheeks, and down in your chest. 

“Will you let me wash your hair?” She asked, and her thumb swiped around your cheek. 

“Yeah,” You breathed out, making no move to grab your shampoo. You were afraid that if you’d turned, you would forget it was her. 

Her head tilted to the side. “Color?”

“Green, right now,” You murmured, more red flooding into your cheeks. “I just… I need to be able to see you when your hands are on me. When we’re… like this,”

“Ok,” Taylor agreed easily like it wasn’t a big ask at all. “I’ll stay where you can see me,”

You nodded, swallowing hard again. “Maybe we just do this today,” 

“That’s ok too,” Taylor hummed, her thumb running over your cheek to the sensitive skin behind your ear. “We’re doing this all at your pace,”

You swallowed hard again. “Thank you,”

Her lips tilted upwards. “Anything for you. I want you to enjoy our time together too. We’ll work up to the rest. My main concern is your comfort, and maintaining your boundaries. We’ll take it one step at a time,”

You could do that. You could do this. One step at a time. 

[floatyflowers]

Dark! Percy Jackson Reverse Harem x Reader|| Chapter Two

<<< Chapter One

Your eyes widen when you see Chiron being half horse half man.

"You are a centaur"

Chiron chuckles at your shocked expression.

"Indeed, I'm, and I'm here to guide you"

"Thank you, sir"

"Are you not going to greet me, (Wrong name)?"

You turn your eyes to stare at the dark haired dark eyes man with confusion.

"My name is (Y/n)" you correct him before asking "And you are?"

"Dionysus"

"As in the god who has a cult?"

"That's me, I miss my cult"

You nod in agreement, unsure if that was meant to be humor or a genuine confession.

"Yes, I used to rule an entire cult in ancient Greece. They all worshipped me and offered me sacrifices."

You feel a twinge of unease at the thought of being in a cult, especially one led by a god like Dionysus.

Still, you don't want to be rude, so you just smile politely and say.

"That's... great."

Dionysus nods, seemingly satisfied with your response.

"Well then," he says,

"Shall we continue on? I can show you around the camp and introduce you to some of the other demigods."

Chiron frowns, looking at Dionysus, finding his behaviour strange.

Dionysus is never friendly towards any demigod.

But now, he is offering to show you around.

Chiron never understood the gods obsession with you.

He assumed it has something to do with your powers.

"There is no need, but thank you for the offer, Luke showed me around the camp"

You say before turning towards the centaur.

"I will be going now if that's all"

The moment you take your leave, Dionysus sighs in disappointment.

"If only she was my daughter"

°°°

The cabin is all pastel pink and surrounded by flowers and cherubs statues, and it is also close to Aphrodite's cabin, which is not surprising.

But what made you uncomfortable is the glass window in your room.

You will need curtains for that later.

What is surprising is that you found tons of gifts on your bed and your wardrobe is filled with clothes.

And a note that says 'From your beloved grandmother. Aphrodite'

Also there are gifts from different deities.

For example, Hermes gave you a golden caduceus pendant with a blue diamond.

Apollo gave you healing potions.

Ares gifted you a dagger and also has a note with it 'Sharp enough to kill your enemies'

But what astonished you the most is the gift from Etos, it's a music box.

A cherubs music box, when you turn it on, it starts playing very enchanting music.

There is a long letter too.

My sweet demigoddess,

I write to you on this fine day to express my deepest love and adulation for you.

Your strength, courage, and power all demonstrate your divine ancestry, and your beauty and grace shine with the warmth of the sun.

My heart aches for you from far away, and all I desire is to embrace you in my arms and to watch you flourish with all that you are and can be.

This music box is a gift from me, once it starts playing, all monsters will flock away from you.

From your father,

Eros.

The strong fragrance on the letter makes you calm down.

To be honest, you don't hate Eros even though he never was by your side when you grew up.

Maybe the new life for you here, isn't bad after all.

°°°

"Capture the flag? As in fighting other demigods? no thank you"

You say, walking by Percy's side.

The boy showed up at your doorsteps first thing in the morning, and asked you to walk with him.

"Don't worry, I will protect you, if you stay by my side" 

You stop and look at Percy and cross your arms over your chest.

"Why did you tell Luke that I'm your girlfriend?" you inquire.

Percy smiles.

"Because you have always been my girlfriend, remember in grade one where you wanted to marry me and made a promis-"

You quickly stop him, your cheeks heating up from the childhood memories.

"I was a child"

"I don't care, a promise is a promise"

"What if I fall for another?"

Percy shrugs, with the smile still on his face.

"It would be like Icarus flying too close to the sun"

You raise an eyebrow but he continues.

"Another might get close to you but they will never reach you before they fall to their deaths"

Chapter Three >>>

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

may 2024 twst manga updates~

***This includes spoilers for the Episode of Savanaclaw, Episode of Octavinelle, and the 4koma!***

AAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH LILIA SILVER AND SEBEK LOOK SO GOOD HERE 🤡 I love how Silver and Sebek are constantly shown flanking Lilia, it really enhances the bodyguard/knight vibes! Every time Lilia appears, he always looks like he's having so much fun. Lil' guy is living it up in every panel! Especially when he appears upside down to spook Ruggie.

efbiuSIUBDBYypvfW9wpWD THIS SHOT IS SO GOOD??????? ?I'M LIVING FOR CATER MAKING SILVER AND SEBEK LOOK LIGHTLY UNCOMFORTABLE AS HE HANGS ON THEM.............. .... . . . . ....... .. .... .. . . . . .. ..

Ruggie's despair is delicious 🤤 He's thinking about all the events that led up to this point and about how that will now all go to waste. Now that I think about it and I have the visual right in front of me... That's the same thing Leona felt every time he got knocked down for his efforts. The parallels, man...

Well, fellas... Looks like it's probably Overblot Leona time next chapter. A detail I love here is that, from Leona's perspective, all the faces of his dorm members are sorta blotted out... which is interesting seeing as how it was stated that Mrs. Rosehearts' face was intentionally blotted since she is considered the source of Riddle's trauma + the light novel tells us that Leona fears seeing hope and desperation for a better future in others because it might motivate him to try again, thus prompting another failure or rejection... 😭

Palace servants: Young master Leona's magical power is so strong, it's scary!! Leona: Damn, they don't understand me! They judge me before they even get to know me. If I were the older brother, they wouldn't be saying this stuff. Also Leona: [see image above]

MALEWIFE MODE RUGGIE????? 😭 What a contrast to the Ruggie in the Episode of Savanaclaw who is really going through it…

Love the detail of Yuuta and Grim helping out with chores in the background! It shows that they’re trying to pull their weight while they stay over.

Babe, wake up... New Yuuta and Leona reaction images just dropped from the Episode of Octainvelle... (I am Yuuta whenever new TWST content drops and my non-Twstie friends are Leona whenever they're listening to me blab nonstop about the updates--)

Yuuta once again proves to be my favorite of the current Yuu iterations 🫶 He’s just so sweet and hopeful!

We actually get to see the class photo!! Although the resolution here is very grainy. I'm really hoping that we get to see a close-up after Azul's OB!! I'm dying to see what he looked like as a kid!

fbhlavfuoeqy8vevif;fa fai THIS CHAPTER REALLY MADE ME LIKE ACE?????? ??? ? ?? ? It's probably because he gives the same flawless liar (even though the acting is sooo overexaggerated) energy as Jade in book 4. There's a really fun scene where he's distracting the Atlantica Museum guards and really hamming it up. He looks so cute while he's being (fake) upset yet so enthusiastic!!

This was my favorite part!! Ace excitedly talks about how he's always been interested in merfolk since he was little (lie) and how he saved up all his money to come to this museum (also a lie)... THEN BRO HAS THE AUDACITY TO POSE LIKE THIS AND TALK ABOUT WANTING TO BE A PART OF THAT WORLD????? ?? ???? ? ?? ? ?? ARIEL WHO>?????? ?? ??? ?? ? ?I o NLY KNOW TRAPPOLA NOW

One of the 4koma this month is about Octavinelle going on a camping trip! Azul wants to study the stars for money-making ideas/inspiration.

When talking about auroras, they're reminded of the Diasomnia students and think about making an aurora-colored drink to sell to them. The Octatrio also star-gaze and talk about aliens + selling octopus to them. They discuss the idea of filling a space suit with water and fish to they can walk in space too.

The other 4koma is about Trey brushing the mouths of his mandrake (as they have no teeth but dirt). He insists that everyone should have a clean oral cavity.

You can even tell which mandrake is Trey’s because it has a bunch of toothbrushes stuck in its pot 🪥

Jamil was planning on using his own mandrake to make an ancient remedy for relieving toothache. Trey is uh… interested… and attempts to test out the healing toothpaste for himself (Jamil of course stops him).

Trey… you’re the most NORMAL one, why are you like this OTL

[ktownshizzle]

Love & Lullabies | Part 2

Pairing: Min Yoongi x female Reader

Summary: What begins as a simple favor for your best friend Namjoon soon pulls you into the rhythms of Yoongi’s life—afternoons spent caring for his son, late nights filled with candid conversations, and a connection neither of you thought you needed. You’re just fresh out of a long-term relationship with an ex who didn’t want a family with you, so did you really just stumble into a life you’ve always dreamed of? (Thank god Namjoon isn’t the only one who’s clumsy.)

Alternatively: It’s 2025 and BTS is prepping for their comeback. All members seem to have gained muscle weight from their time at camp. But Min Yoongi has gained a different kind of weight—an 8-pound baby and a fuck-load of responsibility. (Thank god you’re there to help him.)

Genre: Fluff, Angst, Smut, idol!au, Acquaintances to Lovers, Reader is Namjoon’s bestie

Warnings: Yoongi is a DILF (!!!) That’s it.

Chapter warnings: First kiss with this Yoongi (have fun with that), one sexist remark from your dummy bestie, baby mama shows up, cliffhanger

Word count: 5.3k

Posting date: November 19, 2024

Notes: This is inspired by an ask/prompt sent by @yoongznme. Icymi, we did a poll and results show y’all wanted to break this into two parts so we shall have a part 3. Enjoy, my lovelies~ 💕🫶🏼

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Masterlist

Ever since that dinner when you inadvertently confessed about your age-old attraction to him and assured him that any residual feelings are buried in a metaphorical time capsule, Yoongi seems to have made it his personal mission to rizz you up on purpose.

Haneul’s been especially rambunctious all day. Mealtime is no exception. Yoongi volunteers to feed him, thinking he can rein in some of the pent-up energy. At some point, Haneul squeezes his pouch of organic muesli and carrot puree with so much enthusiasm that it explodes everywhere, sending bright orange flecks across Yoongi’s face and pristine white tee.

“GAHHH!” Yoongi yelps, staring down at the mess, while Haneul absolutely loses it, tiny belly-shaking laughter filling the room.

“Silly, silly sarang,” you coo, using the pet name you’d started calling Haneul lately. It’s adorable how he beams every time he hears it, flashing you that gummy grin like he knows he’s your favorite troublemaker. You laugh too, as you wipe a splatter of puree from Haneul’s cheek with the muslin cloth you were holding.

“Do I have something on my face, too?” Yoongi leans towards you expectantly with the barest of smirks.

“Uh… yeah.” You say, flipping the cloth to a clean side and wiping off the smudge on his cheeks and his chin, and that pesky little morsel on the side of his lip.

For some reason, you seem to need a blast of oxygen straight to your lungs. Stat.

With a lick of his lips, Yoongi nods his thanks. “Gotta change,” he mumbles, lifting the shirt away from his chest with a grimace and walks towards the hallway to his room.

And you almost regret your decision to look back, almost.

Because, oh wow, he’s taking his shirt off. Yep. Fuckin’ dammit. The shirt is off.

Christ.

His shoulders are broad, muscles flexing as he runs a hand through his hair. The infamous “7” tattoo on his shoulder is taunting you. You are unable to pull your eyes away, already knowing you’re doomed.

Then, before he mercifully disappears into his room, he glances over his shoulder and catches you staring. Shit. Your heart plummets straight to your ass. He smirks, U-turns towards you shirtless and utterly shameless.

Your nerves short-circuit as he reaches out, just barely brushing your thigh to pick up his phone from the mat. His eyes hold yours, a dark glint of mischief in them, “You good?”

“Huh?” The brain fog is crazy. You will yourself to keep your eyes above his chest, but of course you gone did it.

Why are his nipples so cute? And damn is that a happy trail?

He snickers softly, like he knows exactly what’s going through your head. “I’ll be back. Han’s eating the remote by the way.”

And with that, he saunters off, leaving you there, a blushing, flustered mess as you find Haneul gnawing on the remote control.

You pull it quickly from his grasp, muttering under your breath, “Sarang, why are you and your appa being such a menace?”

He babbles happily at you, as if he knows he’s not the only troublemaker with a gummy grin in this house that got you wrapped around their finger.

The next time you’re at the Min’s, Yoongi is clearly in a rush, checking his phone and mumbling to himself as he zips up his jacket. “Just text me if you need anything, okay?” he calls over his shoulder, already half out the door.

“Got it,” you reply, bending to set your shoes on the rack. You glance down, expecting to see your usual house slippers—but something else catches your eye.

It’s a… capybara? Big, fluffy, and incredibly cozy-looking slippers, with soft little ears and embroidered eyes, just waiting for you. They’re exactly your size. They’re yours, right? It’s in your usual spot. Beside it… another pair. Same goofy capybara face, but larger. Did Yoongi get a pair for himself, too?

You slip them on, feeling their warmth, their plushness, and a little shiver of wonder and disbelief spreads through you. Yoongi thought of this—thought of you. The butterflies in your stomach are in a frenzy now, and you can’t help but smile, giddy and a little stunned. 

The door swings open. “I forgot my—” Yoongi stops mid-sentence.

You’re standing there, wiggling your toes inside the ridiculous capybara slippers, and when you look up, you catch the slight flush creeping across his cheeks. There’s something so unmistakably soft about his expression and it makes your heart do a strange little flip.

“Please tell me they’re mine,” you jut your bottom lip out, a hopefulness you can’t quite hide.

Yoongi steps inside just enough to grab his keys from the table, shrugs, “Who else would they be for?”

And just like that, he’s gone, the door clicking shut behind him.

You’re left standing there, the capybara slippers snug around your feet, Yoongi’s words replaying in your mind. Your heart flutters as you stare down at them, wondering if maybe, just maybe, this small, thoughtful gesture means as much to him as it does to you.

Since then, you start noticing the small ways Yoongi shows his care. Each time he heads out, he leaves little comforts behind—an extra pillow for you on the couch, a plate of fruit on the coffee table, a cup of Silver Moon tea he prepared for you.

More and more, you start to extend your day to night that Yoongi almost expects you now to stay for dinner or join him for Haneul’s nighttime rituals.

Haneul’s bedtime stories have become a team effort—one night you’re reading, the next it’s Yoongi, who’s surprisingly great with voice acting and sound effects. (You should have known!) When Haneul finally drifts off, Yoongi always waits a moment, exchanging a small, tired smile with you as if to say, We did it.

And before you know it, that age-old crush that you said was buried in a metaphorical time capsule? Yoongi just dug it right back up.

One evening, as you rock Haneul to sleep in your arms, Yoongi comes in quietly, setting down a couple of takeout boxes and two cans of Coke on the coffee table. The baby’s small breaths are warm against your shoulder, his eyelids fluttering as he settles into sleep. You gently lay him down in his crib, brushing a hand over his soft hair before joining Yoongi on the couch. 

“Hungry?” Yoongi asks, sliding a takeout box in your direction. He’s not looking directly at you, focused instead on peeling back the lid of his own food.

“Starving,” you admit, smiling as you pick up your chopsticks. “Thank you.”

The quiet clinks of chopsticks and soft laughter fill the room as you both dig in. Conversation with Yoongi has started to come easier lately, and tonight, it flows so naturally you barely notice the time passing. 

“So, what got you into teaching?” he asks, glancing over at you between bites. “You seem good at it. Really good, actually. Haneul has so many party tricks now.”

You pause, laughing a little to mask the warmth in your cheeks. “I just love kids. I enjoy their energy, even if it’s chaotic.” You glance down. “I’ve always wanted my own. Just… hasn’t quite worked out that way yet.”

He nods, not pressing you, just letting you continue.

“I was in a long-term relationship, but things ended because he wasn’t looking for that kind of future,” you say quietly. “I really wanted a family, kids, but he didn’t. He didn’t even believe in marriage. So, it ended, and I guess that’s why I left and went back home.” 

“I’m sorry to hear that. Must have been so difficult for you.”

You nod, swallowing down the ache that lingers. “Yeah. I think part of me is still working through it, honestly. I hope you don’t think this is weird. But being here, with Han…” you sigh. “I don’t know, it’s helping. Even if he’s not quite mine.”

He’s quiet for a moment, his gaze shifting to his hands, fingers tracing the rim of his soda can. “It’s not weird. Look, you’ve helped us a lot, too. Having you here has made things feel… lighter. Happier.”

The words send a flutter through you, a feeling that scares you as much as it comforts you. Because this feels too domestic. A taste of that life you’ve always longed for. With Jiyong, for years. But now, it’s only Yoongi’s face you see in your mind’s eye. Yoongi and Haneul. You then realize how badly you want this, but you’re afraid of wanting it–afraid of what it might mean to get attached to someone like Yoongi.

“I appreciate that.” You reply. “How have you been adjusting to life as a single dad?” 

Yoongi glances over at you, his gaze thoughtful. “I didn’t expect that it would be this rewarding,” he says, his voice soft, but it trails off. “But… it’s lonely sometimes.” He pauses, his fingers absentmindedly toying with the edge of his sleeve. “Not just the parenting stuff, but the other parts. Like when Haneul does something for the first time—takes a step, says a new word—and I just… look around.”

He shrugs, his lips twitching into a small, self-conscious smile. “And it hits me that there’s no one there to share it with. No one to laugh with, to say like, ‘Hey, did you see that?’”

He laughs quietly, a little embarrassed. “I don’t know. Maybe that sounds selfish. But it’s the truth.”

You shake your head. “It’s not. I think we all want someone to share our life with. It’s not wrong to want that.”

He looks over at you, his gaze holding yours with a gentle intensity. “I guess… it’s easier to admit that with you here. It’s funny because in some ways, you’ve been that person for me, for us.”

The words hang between you and the silence stretches, buzzing with a feeling you can’t quite name. You’re painfully aware of every detail—the curve of his lips, the way his hand rests on his lap, the tenderness in his eyes. You know there’s something there, simmering, and you wonder if he can feel it too.

Finally, he breaks the silence. “Thanks for being here tonight. Really.”

You smile back, heart racing. “Thank you for trusting me. I know… this isn’t easy for you.”

As you sit there, side by side in your matching capybara slippers, the feeling of wanting more, of something real and lasting, settles into your chest. It’s a feeling you thought you’d put on the backburner, but here, with Yoongi, it’s igniting again.

You find yourself chilling at Namjoon’s apartment, days after that dinner, sprawled across his couch with a plate of instant jjajangmyeon balanced precariously on your lap. Some indie album is playing in the background, and you’re too caught up in your spiraling thoughts to even notice Namjoon observing you between bites.

“I’m screwed,” you say suddenly, poking at your noodles with your chopsticks.

Namjoon doesn’t even look affected. “What now?”

“It’s your fault, you big oaf.”

“K stop being cryptic,” he says, motioning for you to explain. “What did I do this time?”

You drop your chopsticks with an exasperated sigh. “Yoongi.”

“Mhm… What about hyung?”

You hesitate, pressing your lips together before blurting out, “I think… I think I like him… again.”

For a moment, Namjoon just stares at you, his expression unreadable. And then he has the audacity to laugh, nearly choking on his noodles as he leans back against the cushions.

“You’re so predictable,” he says between chuckles, shaking his head. “God I knew this was coming.”

You narrow your eyes at him, offended. “What do you mean you knew this was coming?”

“I mean, come on,” he says, gesturing at you with his chopsticks. “You’ve been spending all this time at his place, basically co-parenting Haneul with him. You’re acting like this is some big revelation when it’s been written all over your face.”

You stare at him. “Wow. Are you done?”

Namjoon smirks, tossing his empty takeout box onto the table before leaning forward, elbows resting on his knees. “Okay, okay. Let’s unpack this,” he says, mock-serious. “You like him again. Fine. Why is that a bad thing?”

“Because, dude, it’s Yoongi. What if he’s not actually feeling it, which won’t be the first time? And! I still don't know why he suddenly has a son.”

“You have to ask him that.” Namjoon sets his drink down, his expression sobering slightly. “But answer this—Are you over Jiyong?”

The mention of your ex makes your stomach twist, but you nod, sighing. “Yeah. I’m over him. I’ve come to terms with it. He wasn’t the one for me.”

“Damn right, he wasn’t,” Namjoon mutters, shaking his head. “That guy was an asshole. I never liked him, you know.”

“I know,” you say, laughing softly. “You made it pretty obvious.”

“Good,” he replies firmly. “Because you deserve better. Way better.”

You glance at him, your heart warming a little. “Thanks, Joon.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” he says, leaning back against the couch. “We’re not done talking about hyung.”

You groan again, flopping back against the cushions. “This is so pathetic.”

“No, it’s not,” Namjoon says, his voice softening. “It’s cute. Gross, but cute. And honestly, if hyung’s finally starting to let someone in, I’d rather it be you than some rando.”

You blink, feeling the weight of his words settle over you. “You’re really still shipping us after all these years?”

“Of course,” he says, nudging your knee with his. “You’re good for each other. I’ve known this all along.”

A pause settles as you finish your meal and Namjoon, his drink.

Then, he shakes his head like he’s just realized something. “So this is why Yoongi hyung has been sneaking in some extra work out time in between rehearsals.”

“He’s been walking around his house shirtless. Well, it’s his house, so…” you shrug, pretending you dgaf when really you’ve been thwarting mini heart attacks.

Namjoon’s eyes widen. “No fuckin’ way.”

“Don’t you dare tell him,” you warn, pointing your chopsticks at him.

He smiles wide, teeth blackened by the jajangmyeon sauce. “Only if you say yes to a night out.”

You groan, already mourning the loss of a perfectly good night of doom scrolling, as you toss him a paper towel. “Fine. When?”

You arrive at the bar later than planned. It’s some newly opened speak-easy in Gangnam owned by Joon’s friend. As you push the door that looks like a bookcase from outside, a rush of cool air ruffles the skirt you’re wearing. You definitely took a bit of time selecting your outfit and doing your makeup today, and now you feel really good, great even, even though you initially dreaded going out.

As you scan the room, you spot Namjoon in a large circular booth near the back, surrounded by familiar faces. He spots you first, waving you over with that dimpled grin of his. As you approach, you notice that the atmosphere is already loose and lively, evidenced by the various bottles and half-consumed glasses already on the table. 

Jin is leaning back, looking exasperated, and Hobi is covering his mouth as he laughs, his face flushed from the drinks he’s clearly had more than a few of. And there’s a girl beside him, who you vaguely recognize as the same one from when you watched their rehearsals.

“Look who finally decided to show up!” Namjoon calls out, standing up to envelop you in a hug.

“The star has arrived,” you jest, doing a flower pose on your face. Hobi rises to give you a hug, then Jin follows suit. 

“This is Yunjin,” Hobi introduces the redhead beside him. “My lovely wife.”

Yunjin has the same megawatt smile to match Hobi’s. “Glad to meet you.”

“Good to meet you, too!” you say back as you hug.

“You clean up nice,” your best friend comments as you all settle back inside the booth. “When you’re not acting like a hermit in your condo.”

“I know,” you roll your eyes, surreptitiously scanning the vicinity. “Who else is coming?” you hope you’re not painfully obvious on who you were wishing would be there.

“Just us,” Joon side eyes you, before adding. “Yoongi-hyung just stepped away for a second.”

“Ah.” 

As if on cue, Yoongi steps into view.

And goddamn. Your brain corrupts for a moment, and you swear you hear soft K-drama OST music in the background.

He runs a hand through his hair as he surveys the room as if he has some invisible wind machine following him. He’s wearing a black blazer that fits perfectly over a simple white tank. There’s a flash of silver at his waist from his belt that hugs his light-wash jeans. A small pop of pink on his neck somehow softens the whole look, a cute touch.

He looks so effortlessly good it’s almost obnoxious. The thing is, you’re pretty sure he knows it. That smirk on his face is very telling.

“Hey, you made it,” he says quietly, sliding into the seat next to you as if he belongs there. He grabs the drink by your elbow to take a sip and you get a whiff of his scent—musky, woody, dangerous.

“Yeah,” you squeak, no clue how you will manage to act normally around him now, but a joke seemed appropriate. “Shit. Nobody said my ‘employer’ was gonna be here. Now I have to be on my best behavior.” You say to the others in a whisper.

“DON’T,” Yoongi groans, shaking his head, lower lip bitten in mock irritation.

The rest laugh at your exchange. Hobi slides a shot of whatever to you, and you take it, grateful.

“You missed a big reveal by the way,” Namjoon says. “Apparently, Jin-hyung has officially sworn off women for all eternity.”

Jin rolls his eyes. “Ha-ha. It’s called having a life outside of getting your dick wet, thank you very much. Not everyone needs to be a simp like you.”

“Who is it this time, Joonie?” You ask, taking a tiny sip from the shot glass.

“Soyeon.” Everyone says in chorus. Even Yoongi says it under his breath.

“Oh, god,” you breathe out. “You’re on again?”

Namjoon sighs, “I know, I know. She’s got me in a chokehold.”

Jin raises his drink. “To Namjoon-ah, the biggest simp we know.”

Namjoon shakes his head, laughing in defeat as everyone clinks glasses.

“…and to Seokjin being forever bitchless.” You add under your breath, exchanging giggles with Yunjin.

“Yah!” Jin shouts from his beer glass and you throw him a wink.

“Speaking of simping,” Hobi says, drawing out the word as he looks pointedly at Yoongi. 

“Hoba.” Yoongi warns. You’re curious now.

“The new songwriters Si-hyuk on-boarded from America. They saw you with Haneul. I heard them calling you a DILF.”

Hobi practically falls apart, laughing so hard he clutches his sides. Jin and Namjoon aren’t far behind, their cackling attracting stares from neighboring tables. Even Yoongi can’t fully suppress his grin, though he tries valiantly to play it off. You laugh along, but you feel your face heating up and you don’t know exactly why.

“So you already have an in,” Jin says, reaching over to give Yoongi a hearty slap on the back. “Even you could use a good distraction once in a while.”

“Hajimaaaa,” Yoongi complains, brushing off Jin’s grasp on his shoulder. “Hoba’s just making shit up.”

“I’m not lying!” Hobi raises his right hand up as if he’s swearing an oath. Then he mock-complains, “Nobody ever calls me a DILF.”

Yunjin elbows him on the stomach and Hobi splutters, as they start bickering playfully.

Then Namjoon turns his sights on you. “Hey y/n, you're a girl,” he starts and immediately, you know he is setting you up for something.

“Keen eye,” you deadpan, placing the shot glass on your lips.

“So,” Namjoon says, dimples deepening as he leans in, gestures to Yoongi, “objectively… is he?”

“Is he what?” you grit, but your eyes are screaming ‘Don’t you dare, Kim Namjoon. Don’t you fucking dare, you piece of shit.’

Namjoon raises his eyebrows, looking every bit the trouble-maker. “A DILF?”

Motherfucker.

You nearly choke on your drink, fighting the urge to strangle your best friend as his grin widens, clearly enjoying your discomfort. 

“You’re an asshole, objectively speaking. And I need a real drink if this is how tonight’s gonna go,” you down the entire shot before moving to slide out of the booth to escape before you’re forced to answer.

Yoongi moves out to give you space and decides, “I’ll go with you.” 

As you head toward the bar together, you feel the warmth of Yoongi’s hand on the small of your back. You chance a quick look back at Namjoon, who’s wearing an absolute shit-eating grin, clearly pleased with himself, like this has been his master plan all along—more than ten years in the making.

You decide to go to the bar outside. It’s quieter here and you also need the fresh air.

“Sorry about that…” Yoongi scratches the back of his neck.

“Oh please, no need to apologize for Namjoon’s dumb behavior.” You wave a hand, as if it’s really no big deal. But your insides are still churning.

“So who’s with Haneul tonight?” You ask as you perch on the bar stool.

“My eomma. She’s going to be staying in town for the next two weeks since it’s Han’s birthday.”

“Wow,” you say, excited. “What’s the plan?”

Yoongi shrugs. “Ah, something small. Just family, maybe a couple of friends. Nothing too big. He won’t even remember it.”

You laugh lightly. “Yeah, but you should be celebrating your first year as a dad, too.”

He smiles faintly at that, nodding. “Maybe. But I’m terrible at planning stuff like this. I was gonna keep it simple—a cake, some balloons, that’s it.”

“Well, if you need help, let me know,” you offer casually, trying to keep your tone light even as your stomach flutters at the thought of being part of something so special.

“You sure?”

“100%,” you say, nudging him lightly with your elbow. 

“I don’t want to impose, though. You already do so much.”

“You’re not imposing,” you reply firmly. “I want to help. Besides, I’m already halfway to being Han’s favorite person.”

“Halfway?” he repeats, huffing. “You’ve already taken that spot–100%.”

You grin, feeling your cheeks warm. “What can I say? I’m irresistible to one-year-olds.”

Yoongi’s still for a moment, his gaze lingering on you. There’s something thoughtful in his expression, before mumbling under his breath, “Maybe not just to one-year-olds.”

Eh?

But before you can say anything, he already gestures to call the bartender to take your drink orders.

You’re glad you went out tonight. It’s been a while since you had spent time with a group that made you feel so welcome. Despite the jovial mood you’re in, your social battery is definitely drained. Yoongi notices and asks if you want a ride home since he also needs to go for father duties. You both say your goodbyes and head to his car in the parking lot.

The drive is quiet but not awkward, the soft music filling the space between you during the quick drive to your apartment. When he pulls up in front of your place, you hesitate for a second, debating whether to invite him in. But then you remember the absolute disaster inside—clothes flung everywhere, shoes scattered, your makeup bag abandoned on the kitchen counter in your rush to get ready. Plus, you don’t even have a couch, so…

“Thanks for the ride,” you say, unbuckling your seatbelt. “I’d invite you in, but, uh… my place looks like a crime scene right now.”

He has a confused look on his face, so you explain, “Tried on half my closet before settling on this.”

His gaze sweeps over your outfit, but not in a way that feels invasive. If anything, he looks appreciative. “Worth it,” he says simply, and your heart does a somersault.

There’s a moment, a pause where you should say goodnight. Get out of the car. But something about the way Yoongi’s eyes are still on you makes your pulse quicken, and suddenly, it’s like the air between you feels heavier.

“Stay here,” he says softly, stepping out of the car and walking around to your side. He opens your door, his hand outstretched to help you out, and you take it, letting him guide you onto the sidewalk.

He doesn’t let go of your hand. The short walk up to your apartment feels longer than it should, yet you don’t want it to end.

When you reach your door, you turn to face him, suddenly unsure of what to say. “Well… goodnight, I guess.”

Yoongi hesitates for a moment, hand still lightly grasping yours. “I need to tell you something.”

“Okay…” Your throat felt dry saying that.

“I umm found Haneul a nanny. Youngbae-hyung recommended this agency they used to find theirs and I’ve signed on someone who’s starting soon.”

You’re a little shocked at the news. This is good though because Yoongi really needs a more reliable and constant solution to their caregiving needs. Despite the heavy feeling that has settled in your chest, you try to lighten the mood with a joke that doesn’t quite land, “Why does this feel like a break-up?”

Yoongi shakes his head, lips curved into a small smirk, as he tucks a stray hair behind your ear, “Not even close.” He releases a sigh. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” you nod, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Can I kiss you goodnight?”

The question takes you by surprise, the vulnerability in his voice making your heart ache, but this time, in the best way. You nod, smiling softly. “Yeah. You can.”

He steps closer, his hand brushing lightly against your arm before tilting your chin up gently. The kiss is soft, tentative, like he’s savoring every second. You are, too. It’s just… sweet. Like a first kiss should be. Perfect.

When he pulls back, his forehead rests lightly against yours, and you can feel the warmth of his breath against your lips. For a moment, neither of you moves, like you can’t believe what just happened.

Yoongi’s eyes flutter shut as he confesses, “Is it bad that I want to do that again already?”

“No, ‘cause same…” Your hands reach out, grasping the lapels of his jacket, and you pull him back in.

Yoongi responds instantly, his hands sliding to your waist as he presses you gently against the wall, his warmth and weight upon you dangerously addictive. His tongue brushes yours, soft and slick, that spark of contact so electric that you feel yourself melting further into him. Your arms loop around his neck, bringing him closer, and when his lips part against yours, his teeth catch your bottom lip, sucking on it softly before letting it go. The sensation sends a shiver racing down your spine, and you can’t help the quiet moan that escapes you.

Your fingers tangle in his hair, threading through the silky strands before one hand slides down to find the belt loop of his jeans. You tug on it, pulling him impossibly closer, until there’s no space left between your bodies.

Yoongi groans against your mouth as your bodies collide, your chest against his, his leg in between your thighs, fitting into each other like tetris pieces. As your nails scratch the tufts of hair by his nape, a rumble, low and rough, escapes his throat, sending another wave of heat straight to your core. His hands grip your waist tighter, grounding you even as your world shifts.

When you finally pull back, your breaths come fast and uneven. His hair is slightly mussed from your fingers, his lips flushed and slightly parted, and he looks at you with a mix of wonder. You feel kind of proud, taking in his sexy, disheveled appearance.

“I really should’ve tidied up my place,” you murmur, your fingers still loosely hooked in his belt loop.

Yoongi blinks, dazed for a moment, before letting out a soft chuckle. “It’s fine. There will be other times.” His fingers brush against your shoulder as he gently hooks the strap of your top that had slipped down, carefully sliding it back into place.

“Other times, huh?” you tease.

He licks his kiss-bitten lip, smirks and says, “Good night.”

“Good night,” you reply as you watch him retreat down the hall.

“I’ll text you,” he calls over his shoulder before disappearing into the elevator, leaving you standing at your doorway, your lips still tingling and your heart on your sleeve.

You close the door, leaning back against it with a sigh.

That same night, you resolve to go to IKEA to finally buy a damn couch and a bedframe. You know, just in case. For those other times.

Yoongi: haneul says he misses you You: Oh, rly? He talks full sentences now? Yoongi: yes? You: I miss him, too. Yoongi: good. see u tomorrow? You: I’m so there, no question Yoongi: good night

Yoongi’s apartment is alive with energy, the living room transformed into a whimsical—but slightly chaotic—mix of cats and capybaras. It’s a theme that feels both playful and oddly fitting, a nod to Haneul’s love for capybaras (which you take full credit for) and Yoongi being a literal cat daddy. Yours, hopefully, but the thing is… it’s been awkward. At least for you.

You spent the morning hanging streamers, tying balloons, and carefully setting up the decorations while Yoongi grumbled about the sheer number of things to assemble.

At some point, Yoongi takes your hand and introduces you to his mom. Just your name—no label, no context, no indication of what you are to him beyond someone who is here, present, and involved. It had been a brief, polite exchange, but you couldn’t help the twinge of awkwardness that followed, even if Yoongi’s hand stayed clasped with yours and he may have dropped a chaste kiss on top of your head before he had to go say hi to other guests. 

Your relationship—or lack thereof—still feels undefined. You haven’t had the talk with Yoongi since that kiss after the night out. You’re in this off, lukewarm state, caught somewhere between the heat of semi-flirty late-night texts and the cold hard truth that he’s been too busy to really sit down and talk. With their comeback just weeks away, his rehearsals have been relentless, and you’ve told yourself not to take it personally. You know how this goes.

But still. Seeing him now, watching him laugh softly at something Namjoon said while adjusting Haneul’s tiny party hat, a knot twists in your stomach. You just don’t know how to properly operate in this space that’s in flux.

You shake the thoughts away, willing yourself to shelf the conversation for later. It’s Haneul’s day, you remind yourself. Whatever questions you have about you and Yoongi can wait.

“Noona, these cupcakes are so good!” Jungkook calls out, holding up one with a cat face on it.

“Thank you, Kook! Can’t take credit for them though. I just got them from a pastry shop near my place.”

“Still, you’ve got good taste,” he says, licking the frosting that makes up the cat’s tail.

Suddenly, the doorbell rings. Yoongi, closest to the door, moves to answer it. You don’t think much of it until you hear Yoongi’s voice croak. “What are you doing here?”

Curiosity piqued, you glance toward the doorway, and that’s when you see her.

Tall, gorgeous, and impossible to miss. Lee Sung Kyung steps inside, her polished, effortless elegance making her stand out. She barely spares a glance at anyone else, her focus entirely on Yoongi.

Your stomach drops. You have a bad feeling about this.

Namjoon is at your side in an instant, his voice low. “Hey… I think we need to talk.”

“What?” you ask, forcing a smile as you pick up a napkin, pretending to tidy the already-organized table. But your eyes are glued to the scene by the entrance, at Yoongi’s clenched jaw, and Sung Kyung’s outstretched arm.

You feel a little miffed that Namjoon takes you by the elbow, voice insistent as he says, “NOW.”

"Joon," You ask, mustering all your courage, even though you are terrified of the answer. "Who is she?"

"She's Lee Sung Kyung."

Your ears are ringing and you grit your teeth as you respond, "I fucking know her name." You repeat the question, slower, a little angrier. "Who. is. she."

Namjoon hesitates, his jaw tightening before he answers. “She’s Haneul’s mom.”

Part Three >

A/N: dun dun DUN. 🙉 I need y'all in the comments! <3 How are you feeling??? Feedback is super appreciated and helps keep my motivation high ✨

I am so excited to share part 3.

Hope you all are sattt 🪑

Thank you for reading, you lovely, beautiful human! 💜

& If you want to read more of my work, please check out my Masterlist

Taglist:

@yoongznme @nnybtitts08 @rinkud @nbjch05 @perfectiondazesworld

@marnz1990 @mxrauds @queenbloody @jadestonedaeho7 @futuristicenemychaos

@direnediane @glossdebut @maryhopemei @theresstardustinmyblood @mggv97

@wobblewobble822 @kam9404 @supernoonanyc @damn-u-min-yoongi @ot72025

@busanbby-jjk @granataepfelchen @jajabro @tarahardcore @marihoneywk

@ryryvna @tea4sykes @mar-lo-pap @lilkittenjenjen

@captainchrisstan @thelittlecatonthecake

@flaneuseonthestreets @sexytholland @diamonddia-mond

@yronathaniel @as-hs-blog @amarssfanfic @mafersame @amarawayne

@eurydiceofterabithia @diame93 @welcometomyworld13 @wonh0oe @lilkittenjenjen @jalexad

@jkkkkkay @chimmisbae @angellekookie @jovanaprime @txtsoobean @joonlovely