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honeyhotteoks · 1 year ago

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this night together - chapter twelve (j.yh + s.mg)

chapter twelve: home is always home

chapter summary: you were planning to tell them how you felt on saturday, but when things go sideways at the studio you find yourself running home as fast as you can.

warnings: this is the chapter i've been warning about for a long, long time. please read responsibly if you're easily triggered by any of the following topics - guy who can't take no for an answer, aggressive/sexist language, physical and verbal assault, panic/ptsd, physical injury/blood, hospitals, police interaction (mentioned), nightmares/night terrors, self harm (sort of?)

notes: please note, if you're reading this on or around 12.3.23 when i'm posting, i've put up three chapters at once. make sure you don't skip chapter ten and eleven! additional notes under the cut~!

pairings: alpha!yunho x alpha!mingi x omega!reader

genre: smut, a/b/o/omegaverse, angst, fluff, romance, polyamory

word count: 11.6k

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for my readers who aren't that familiar with a/b/o, i'm introducing something in this chapter that you may not have seen before. i wanted to add some context! if you're new to a/b/o, there is something that alphas have often called "alpha tone", "alpha voice", or just "tone". alphas in many depictions have the ability to lower their voice in a particular way that is seen as a strict command to an omega, and it triggers/activates their submission. this is something that can be used negatively or positively, but in this scene will be negative. there's also something called headspace/subspace that you will see referenced, and an omega can be put into headspace/subspace via alpha tone. it is a bit of a dissociative state where the omega can only really hear and understand commands. this can be used negatively or positively as well, but again, definitely not good in this scene. i hope that helps.... and happy/responsible reading!!

You really, really wish today was Saturday and not Thursday. Thursday just means you still have to get through Friday and then all of Saturday morning before your scheduled dinner with Yunho and Mingi and all the things you want to say are practically eating you up inside. But there’s a right way and a wrong way to tell someone you’ve been an idiot and you’re in love with them, and blurting it out in the middle of dance practice isn’t really going to help make this easier.

God, you hope they still want you.

On the plus side, this week has been insane. With the full crew back things are moving at a million miles per hour, and you’ve been in more meetings about what’s coming up next in the past week than the entire time you’ve worked for BB Trippin and KQ.

Your schedule for the next six months is frankly intense. Between preparing for year-end stages and working on the choreography for the newly debuting girl group, you’re juggling conversations about New World’s next comeback and the next round of touring. With the money coming in now there’s an opportunity to take more dancers, and that just means more late nights and early mornings getting everything right.

It’s after your third concept planning meeting of the week that you find two minutes to talk to Wooyoung, his bag already slung over his shoulder as he refills his water bottle.

“So, you’re going?” You ask him vaguely, trying not to tip off anyone else in the vicinity that he’s got a date.

“Yeah,” He nods, eyes flicking over your shoulder to see if San and Seonghwa are nearby, “I think I’m going to throw up,”

“No, you’re not,” You assure him.

“I might,” He whines, running a hand through his mop of long black hair, “I never know what to say to him,”

“Woo,”

“I know what to say to everyone, y/n,” He lowers his voice, panic evident in his eyes, “but every time Sangie smiles I go fucking blank,”

“Sangie?” Your eyebrow quirks, “Is that what we’re calling him now,”

“Shut up,” Wooyoung blushes.

“Wow,” You prod him softly, “you’re down so bad, it’s been like three days,”

“It’s so bad,” He grimaces, “this is embarrassing,”

“Now you see how I feel,” You smirk, “it’s kind of fun being on this end of things,”

“Please,” He rolls his eyes, “are you telling me you’re not panicking?”

“Oh, no,” You laugh, “I definitely am. It’s just nice to know I’m not alone here,”

“I was never this mean to you,”

You hold his gaze, just blinking, there’s nothing to say to that he doesn’t already know.

“Okay, fine,” He sighs, “but still, feeling like this,”

“Feeling like what?” Seonghwa’s voice shocks you both out of your quiet conversation and you both jump back from each other.

“Jesus,” You breathe, “you scared me,”

Seonghwa smiles, “Sorry,” he shrugs, “everything okay?”

“Perfect,” Wooyoung takes a step back and shakes his head, “totally good,”

Seonghwa’s brows come together in the middle, “You seem like something’s wrong, can I help?”

Wooyoung almost blanches, and you know he’s dreading telling San and Seonghwa about Yeosang, so you jump in to help. “Woo was just helping me figure out Saturday,” You cover and draw Seonghwa’s attention back to you, “you know, figuring out what to say to them,”

“Oh,” Seonghwa nods, but you can see that he doesn’t really buy it, “right,”

“Anyways,” Wooyoung starts walking backwards towards the exterior door, “I have to go, but you know, y/n, call me if you need to talk more later,”

“I will,” You nod, “I definitely will.”

Wooyoung knows that what you mean is that you want detailed date updates, and he almost looks mortified at the idea. He disappears fast, leaving you and Seonghwa relatively alone in the hallway.

“What is up with him this week?” Seonghwa asks, confusion on his face.

“He has a date,” You tell him quietly, “he’s kind of freaking out about it.”

“Oh,” Seonghwa glances towards the door where Wooyoung just disappeared, “that’s not that weird for him,”

“It is if he’s this interested after only a few days,” You say, “but don’t tease him. He’s kind of worked up about the whole thing,”

“Who’s he seeing?” Seonghwa asks.

“He should tell you that,” You beg off the gossip immediately, “just do me a favor and give him a little space to talk to you and San about it,”

“Okay,” He draws out the word, not sure exactly where you’re going.

“He’s nervous about upsetting the delicate balance,” You gesture towards him, referring to the carefully constructed relationship that is Wooyoung, San, and Seonghwa.

“He’s seeing another alpha?” Seonghwa jumps to that conclusion with ease, and you can see how he would get there.

You’re shaking your head before you can stop yourself, “It’s not that,”

That does surprise him, and Seonghwa’s eyes widen a bit, “Oh,”

“Right,” You nod, leading him to the conclusion as close as you can without spelling it out, “my point is, he’s nervous and he’s got a pretty serious crush, and he hasn’t said so but I think he’s scared you and San won’t approve.”

“I would never,” He stumbles over his words, “out of anyone, we would never judge him, he has to know that,”

“Hey,” You reach for Seonghwa, stepping a little closer so your voices stay low in the entryway as you brush your hand down his forearm, “he knows, he’s just panicking a little.”

“Should I talk to him?” Seonghwa asks, his eyes earnest.

“Not yet,” You shake your head, “he’ll figure it out, just don’t push him right now. I’ve never seen him this anxious,”

“I won’t,” He promises, “thank you for telling me,”

“Mhm,”

Seonghwa chews over your words a second and then decides to let it drop. With a sigh he refocuses on work, “Are you staying late?”

“Yeah,” You shrug, “I have some things to catch up on. You?”

“I need to track down San,” He says, “but then after that I’m probably heading out a little early,”

“Nice,” You nod, “still shaking off the jetlag?”

He nods, “Unfortunately,”

Down the hall you watch a few of the dancers gathering up their belongings, and then the door to the back office opens to reveal Yunho and Mingi, sitting close together and studying a computer screen as Jaemin leaves for the day.

“Well,” Your feet are already moving, “then I’ll see you later,”

“Sounds good,” He says, and then he gives you a knowing look, seeing exactly where you’re headed.

Before you know it, you’re moving through the people in the hall and trying desperately to come up with a reason for crashing their tete-a-tete.

“Hey,” You knock softly on the open door, “am I interrupting?”

“No, no,” Yunho smiles when he sees you and your stomach bubbles.

“We’re just watching back practice,” Mingi leans back in his chair, rubbing his tired eyes.

“Oh, nice,” You say, and your empty words do little to fill the empty space.

“Do you… need something?” Yunho tries.

“Ah, yeah, sorry,” You scramble internally for something to say, “I’m staying late, but I’m kind of starving, I just didn’t know if you still had stuff stashed?”

“Sure,” He gestures towards the cabinets on the side wall, “whatever you want, help yourself,”

“Great,” You dash towards the cabinets, and you can’t even imagine eating right now with how fluttery your insides have been, but you snag a couple of protein bars anyways.

The silence is brutal. Not like before, not like the tense and uncomfortable angry silences of the past, but it’s still sitting there between you. Part of you wants to shut the door right now and just get it all out there, but again, you know you shouldn’t.

Mingi’s warm, chocolatey scent is richer in here, evident after a hard practice of working up a sweat and being given a chance to permeate with the door closed. You feel your body naturally relaxing at it, so comforting and familiar, and then you get the first pang of Yunho’s warm, summer rain.

You can hardly believe how you convinced yourself that this wasn’t scent sympathy when right here and now it’s so obvious they belong to you. You wonder if they feel it too.

“Are you okay?” Mingi’s voice snaps you out of your sudden daydream staring at the cabinet full of snacks.

“Yeah, yes,” You shut them and step back, “I’m fine, just a little tired.”

“Not sleeping well?” Yunho says, concern all over his features.

“I’m fine,” You wave him off, “just a busy week,”

“You don’t have to stay late,” Mingi offers, “I’m sure whatever you’re working on will still be fine tomorrow,”

“I know,” You nod, “but if I don’t get it out of my system I’ll just be thinking about it all night, you know how it is,”

Mingi nods, “Still, take it easy later,”

“I will,” You promise, and you start to turn towards the door when the words just bubble up out of your throat, “you’re both still free Saturday, right?”

“Yeah,” Mingi answers for them both, “are you?”

“Definitely,” You nod, “I just wanted to make sure, I’m looking forward to it,”

“We could do tomorrow instead,” Yunho offers, “after practice?”

“As long as you don’t have other plans,” Mingi cuts in, “for a Friday night,”

“Tomorrow works,” You jump at the chance, “I’d actually love that, I just didn’t want to crowd you when you’re adjusting to the timezone again,”

“It’s fine,” Mingi brushes that thought off, “I’d rather see you,”

“Yeah,” Yunho nods, “it’ll be good to catch up,”

You smile, “I want to hear all about the trip,”

“The trip,” Mingi says, just repeating your words like he’s weighing them out on his own tongue.

Something about his voice sends a sharp zing up the back of your spine.

Your body feels a little soft, relaxing bit by bit.

Yunho’s eyes flick over you, “Are you sure you need to stay late?”

Something your primal little brain cannot handle right now is the thought of your alphas being protective, not when you’re standing in this room encased by their scents that feel a little too right. Your stomach tightens and you pray that you’re not blushing pink at the flickering thought in your mind of them taking you home.

You need to get out of this room before they realize it.

“I’m good,” You tell him, stepping backwards towards the door, “but thank you, and dinner tomorrow is perfect,”

Mingi says something, you think he’s agreeing, but you’re giving another excuse over your shoulder about how you need to get back to it so you can make it out of this room.

Your heart is practically beating out of your chest as you leave the office and make it down the hall, heading for the studio room you’ve booked for the afternoon. You nearly run into Dahan and Minseok as you cut around the corner, but you apologize quickly and barely give them a second glance as you hide yourself away in one of the dance studios alone.

With the door firmly shut you lean back against the closed door and take a deep breath. These feelings are going to work you into a frenzy if you don’t get them under control. Scent sympathy is rare, an almost perfect match between an alpha and omega that makes every part of a relationship heightened, especially once that initial sympathetic bond is fulfilled with a claim. While they were gone you came to that conclusion slowly, the steady ache in your chest so clearly informed by the lack of them, but now that they’re back and here the realization of it collides into you full-force.

You love them, that’s true. But what’s more is how much you need them, and how much you hope they need you. You can’t let them realize it before you have the chance to say everything you need to say, and if you had stayed in that room a few minutes more they might have felt themselves. With the dinner moved to Friday you just have one more night to get through. One more night, and one more day of work. And then the chips will fall where they may.

With a deep breath you let the hammering of your heart slow and then you focus back on the work ahead. The more you pour yourself into work the faster these 24 hours will go, so you put your head down and get to it.

You work for a long time, probably too long, until your muscles are positively aching and any thoughts of Yunho and Mingi are drowned out by lyrics to the chorus of this song that just keeps looping in your mind as you try different patterns of footwork. Here in this bubble you don’t know who’s still at work, who’s left for the day, what time it is, or if the sun has set yet. You just know your own body and every which way that it moves to this one singular song.

Your hair is hot around your face, sweat clinging to your brow as you finish out the latter half of the choreography that you’re confident with. It’s fast, and includes so much up and down floor work you’re pretty sure you’d be passing out if you weren’t hydrating properly. Focused on your reflection in the mirror you gather your hair up and away and into a knot and then move to find your towel and water bottle.

The door to the studio opens behind you, and you glance back without really seeing who’s popping in, “Hey,”

For a split second it occurs to you that it might be Yunho or Mingi and your stomach flips as you start to turn.

“Hey, y/n,” Minseok’s voice is a bit of a surprise.

“Oh, hey,”

He looks like he’s just stopping by to grab something from the far desk in the corner. You’re honestly surprised that he’s still here, he had looked on his way out earlier when you bumped into him in the hall.

“Are you heading out for the night?” You take a drink of water and catch your breath, leaning against the mirrored wall behind you.

“Soon,” He nods, running a hand through his dark hair and snagging a sweatshirt hanging over the back of the office chair.

“Well,” You smile, “have a good night,”

“You too,” He says as he walks past you, but then his steps slow and you hear him sigh before he turns on his heel, “listen, can I ask you something?”

“Sure,”

“I hope you don’t think this is weird,” He takes a few more steps back towards you, “but I’ve actually been meaning to ask you something for a while now,”

“Oh,” Your eyebrows raise, and suddenly you can see everything in his expression. You know this look. You know the way men get when they finally rip off the bandage and change the equilibrium of a room, the moment they decide they can’t see you as just a friend. What absolutely terrible timing he has.

“I was thinking,” He says, a little pause before the rest and you hope you’re keeping your face nice and neutral, “do you think I could take you out some time?”

“Out?” The word leaves you.

He smiles, “Yeah, out, like a date.”

“I appreciate that,” You shake your head a little, trying to smile and keep things light, “but I don’t think so,”

His lip quirks and his nose scrunches and you suppose that if you were interested you might find this part of him charming, but you’re not, so it isn’t. “Are you seeing someone?” He asks.

“No,” You tell him honestly, “not right now.”

“So, I can’t get you to give me one chance?” He takes a step forwards, gesturing between you both and keeping his gaze hopeful.

“I really don’t think that’s a good idea,” You shake your head, “we work together.”

“Oh, it’s fine,” He assures you, brushing past the boundary you tried to set with casual indifference, “don’t worry about that.”

“Still,” You shake your head, “but thank you for asking.”

You’re not at all thankful for him asking, but he’s nice enough, and it feels like the polite way to keep the status quo.

“That’s a shame,” He admits, his smile dropping almost entirely, “are you sure I can’t convince you to give me just one chance? I really do like you, y/n,”

“I’m sure,” That should be firm enough.

“I thought we were getting along well,” He cuts off the end of your words, “becoming friends.”

“I thought so too,” You straighten up off the wall behind you, tossing your towel over your shoulder and setting up to walk right out of the studio room if that’s what it would take to end this interaction, “I thought we were friends,”

You can’t help but emphasize the word friends, and you watch the moment his expression drops more, annoyance flicking through his jaw.

“I didn’t think you had such a problem seeing people you worked with,” He says pointedly.

“Excuse me?”

“It’s just that,” He shrugs, nodding towards you, “I didn’t think it bothered you. Considering.”

“Listen,” You lock eyes with him, “let it go. I’m trying to be nice about this, but I can be clearer. I am not interested in going out with you.”

“You don’t have to be rude,”

“Goodnight, Minseok,” You’re not staying for this.

“I’m a good guy,” He says as you start towards the door, “don’t, come on just stay a second,”

You keep walking.

“y/n,” He says, his voice startlingly close behind you, “stay.”

It’s like your legs stop working, an echoing strike of nerves down your spine and you stumble slightly as his hand closes around your wrist.

“Let go of me.” You start to turn towards him, pulling your arm back as you do, but he speaks again.

“Stop.” His voice is so low suddenly, situated smack in the center of his chest, a tenor you’ve never heard from him before. Your legs stop working all together, suddenly feeling like lead.

“Take your hands off me.” You blink hard, your head feeling a little full suddenly.

“I just don’t understand,” He bites, “we’ve been flirting for weeks.”

You can’t find the words to tell him that you being nice isn't flirting, but you’re stunned into silence. You can barely even think of a time when you had a sustained conversation with him where someone else wasn’t present. How could interactions that felt so routine to you feel so significant for him?

“And you’re just… not interested?” He scoffs, “You’re what, twenty-six? Twenty-seven? You’re going to start running out of good offers.”

So many things about Seo Minseok fall into place with just those words. The way that just a few weeks ago he barely looked at you, barely spoke to you. Always spending his attention on the alphas in the room around you, but never you. How when that tide shifted you thought, maybe naively, that he was just shy. But he’s not shy, not in the least. He’s just another alpha in a long line of alphas who look down their noses at omegas until there’s something they want from them.

“That’s really none of your concern,” You shake your head, “now get the fuck off me.”

“Be quiet.” His jaw sets hard.

So does yours.

A thousand thoughts run through your brain like a wildfire eating up a hillside of dry bark but nothing can make it past your lips. The tone of his voice has you rooted to the spot, his instructions not suggestions but strict commands. It’s been a long time since you’ve heard an alpha use tone, but it’s certainly the first time it’s been directed at you. You’ve heard stories, the way the primal omega brain surfaces even when you don’t want it to. You thought it was a bit of an overstatement, but now on the receiving end you can’t control your response to him and fear floods you.

“You talk a lot for an unmated omega,” He looks disappointed.

Something shrinks inside you.

His fingers tighten, his body suddenly closer, “But we can fix that.”

In a breath his hands push you backwards, your back suddenly cold against the mirrored wall of the practice room. Later, much later, you’ll discover that the reason your memory of this moment is patchy is a combination of your omega’s response to alpha tone and full dissociation. You’ll remember little pieces, quick sensations here and there. The same song still looping through the stereo, the sound of his deep inhale with his face pressed against your throat, the sharp pin pricks of his teeth as he seeks out the soft juncture of your neck and shoulder. The way your mind in one heaving breath both screams in rebellion and folds open in acceptance when he successfully locates your gland.

You suddenly can’t hear right, can’t think right. All you know is his teeth. The hot feeling of breath. He smells like burnt, bitter oranges. He’s talking again, saying something that your conscious mind can’t register, but your omega does, and you stretch your neck long to give him the access he needs.

And then you’re under.

You’re dropping before you consciously register your brain entering a new, hazy middle space. It feels like being at the bottom of a deep pool, the sudden, immersive quiet. You understand that someone is talking to you, or around you, but all you can hear is the echoing tenor of an alpha, the words unclear, all cocooned in the water around you.

There’s a bang somewhere but it feels far away, and you feel pin pricks against your throat.

Minseok’s overwhelming acrid scent and heavy pressure against you is gone, the sudden loss of his weight leaving you off balance. You think you’re falling, or maybe you’ve already fallen. The world feels tilted, something hard and cold under your back. You smell something sharp and tangy, and there’s something loud in the room but you can’t understand it. Everything is white, bright and intrusive.

Mingi’s face swims into your vision, and you feel his hands on your cheeks. It takes you a minute to understand anything, but he looks upset, stricken and his cheeks are tinged pink with panicked anger. You want to reach up, soothe his brow and see what’s wrong, but you can’t lift your hand. Don’t move an inch.

“Jesus,” Mingi glances to his side, “he put her in subspace,”

Someone responds, but it’s muffled to your ears.

Mingi’s face darkens entirely, his hands leave you, “I’ll fucking kill him,”

He’s gone. There’s a scuffle to your side, but you can’t turn your head, you want to, you just can’t. Tears bubble in your eyes, emotion pulsing through you and your breath is tight and thready in your throat. A sharp, whining sob bubbles from your lips.

Warm rain swims through you, and Yunho’s there, sliding right into the spot Mingi left. His eyes dart over your face and then he looks to his side, his voice firm, “Calm down or get out of here, do you understand me? You’re scaring her,”

There’s a long beat, noises to your side again but you can’t understand it. Your stomach flips nervously, the place you’re stuck in your head throbbing a sharp spike through your brain.

Yunho’s warm, brown eyes settle back on yours, his face calm and easy, “Can you hear me, y/n?”

You can, but you can’t make your mouth work. Don’t move an inch.

“Can you hear me? y/n?” He asks again, his thumb brushing your cheek, “You’re safe, he’s not going to touch you again,”

The hard feeling of Minseok’s hands on your hips pushing you into the practice room mirror snaps inside you and you release a soft sound.

“You can hear me,” Yunho nods, “come on, wake up,”

“Yunho,” Mingi’s voice is close again, hard and steady, “that’s not going to work,”

“Why?” Yunho looks up to his friend, “she can hear me, she’s okay,”

“She’s in subspace,” Mingi pushes his friend to the side, coming into your eye line, “she’s dropped so far under it’s going to take more than that,”

“W-what do we do?” Yunho’s voice is shaky.

“Let me try something,” Mingi murmurs, and then his eyes lock squarely on yours.

Yunho slips his hand into yours, holding you tightly, but you can’t squeeze him back.

“Omega,” Mingi’s voice is firm, and it’s the clearest thing you’ve heard since sinking under the water, “Come up now.”

Don’t move an inch.

“You need to come up now,” His fingers tighten on your cheek, “listen to me.”

Don’t move an inch.

“Why isn’t this working?” Yunho asks, squeezing your fingers.

“I’m not sure,” Mingi’s voice is low, and then he shifts closer to your face, “y/n. Omega. Listen to me now,”

All you can do is manage to make a quiet, tight noise, and even to your muddled brain you can hear the tenor of distress.

“Come up now,” Mingi repeats, “right now. Listen to me, omega.”

You’re being torn in two, your primal brain fighting you every step of the way.

He swallows hard, his voice dropping low in his chest, “Don’t disobey your alpha,”

Suddenly nothing but his voice exists.

Mingi’s expression is cold, tight and ruthless, his rich tone cuts straight to your core, “When you’re given a directive, you follow it. Now,” He locks his hands on either side of your face and his next words are a pointed and perfectly clear command, “Come. Up.”

The room is so much louder than you thought a moment ago. There’s shouting outside and you vaguely register San’s voice amongst the mix. The music from practice is still on low. Yunho’s leg is bouncing nervously, the athletic fabric making a rhythmic swish with every bob of his knee. You can hear your blood rushing in your ears.

“I’m sorry,” You choke out, the first feeling that floods back into your body is intense shame.

“Oh my god,” Mingi’s expression crumbles and he pulls your limp body into his arms “you’re here? You’re with us?”

“M-Mingi,” Your vision clouds with tears again and every feeling that tried to course through your body while you were in subdrop crashes into you sideways.

“Shh,” He rocks you in his arms, “we’ve got you, we’re right here, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,”

A dull throb radiates through your skull and Yunho takes a sharp inhale, “She’s bleeding,”

“What?” Mingi pulls back, his hand searching your body.

“Here,” Yunho brushes the back of your hair, his fingers coming away with a small line of blood, “it’s not too bad,”

“What happened?” You reach for the cut at the back of your head, nervous tears coming up as you try to understand.

“You don’t remember?” Yunho asks.

“I’m,” You swallow hard, “it was practice? Or I was practicing? I had the room booked.”

“Yeah,” Yunho nods and squeezes your hand, “what else?”

The date. The hard set of Minseok’s jaw when you said no. His hands on your hips, his lips on your neck, the soft drag of his teeth and the flat of his tongue over your gland. Your shirt tearing when he hauled you up against the mirrors. Hands everywhere. Hands nowhere. The white ceiling. His voice, harsh and direct in your ears, the alpha tone unmistakable. Submit. Heel. Don’t move an inch.

Your mouth is suddenly hot and watery, and your hands are shaking, “I’m… I’m going to be sick,”

“Shit,” Yunho moves fast, sliding across the floor to grab the wastebasket that sits under the desk, pushing it into your hands.

You wretch instantly, shaking and heaving, losing the contents of your stomach into the plastic bin.

“Okay,” Mingi soothes, gathering up your hair into one hand and holding it away from your face, “you’re okay,”

“He touched me,” Your hands won’t stop shaking, his voice flooding back, and you heave again, “the things he said,”

“Shh,” Yunho shifts closer, rubbing a hand up and down your back, “you’re safe. None of that is true,”

“He talked to me like a dog,” You sob, “and I couldn’t move, he told me not to move and I just let him,”

“No.” Mingi’s voice is harsh and you twitch under his hands, “He used alpha tone on you, he wanted you to stop fighting and he said it in tone until you couldn’t hear anything else. You didn’t let him do anything,”

“I’ve never,” You wretch again, a dry heave with nothing to give and it makes your eyes watery.

“We’re right here,” Yunho murmurs, “you’re safe.”

When you’re sure your stomach will hold, you push the wastebasket away and drop back to the floor, your head throbbing, “I’ve never been in subspace,”

“You’re not there now,” Mingi soothes.

“I don’t remember,” You manage, looking down at your mussed clothes, “it’s so muddled I can’t remember,”

“What can’t you remember?” Yunho asks softly.

You’re pretty sure you’d register it if his attempt at claiming had been successful, if the word attempt should even be in consideration at all, but the end is so fuzzy you just have to know. “Did he… did we?”

“No.” Yunho’s firm, sliding in front of you so he can make you look into his eyes, “absolutely not,”

Your mouth tastes terrible, but it’s the overwhelming bitter smell of him on you that doubles it and makes you want to throw up again even though your stomach is empty.

“All I can smell is him,” You scrub your hands under your eyes to wipe away tears, “I can’t even breathe,”

“Take her,” Mingi says, “I’m getting water,”

Yunho pulls you into his arms, sitting back against the mirrored wall for some support and cradling you to his chest, “Come here, is this okay?”

“Make it go away,” You hold onto his shirt and sigh into his neck, “please, Yunho, please,”

“Just breathe,” He soothes you, “I have you,”

He smooths his thumbs over the glands in your wrists, easing the initial panic inside you, and then gently draws your head back with his hand, “It’s only me,” He murmurs, “you know I’d never hurt you,”

Yunho licks a long stripe up your neck, and instantly your body starts to release, tense muscles unlocking and your fingers falling slack. His scent washes over you, enveloping you tenderly.

“Y-Yunho,” you shudder as he licks another long stripe, moving to suck softly on the fleshy part of your neck that narrowly avoided teeth marks.

“Yes?” He kisses your neck softly, and licks again.

“Thank you for coming for me,” You exhale slowly.

He stills, sinking closer and resting his closed lips on your shoulder. When he breathes in you hear the catch of emotion, “I thought we were too late,”

“I’m okay,” You murmur, and it’s starting to feel true now that he’s washing away Minseok’s scent.

“God,” He sighs into your skin, “when I heard you scream… I’ve never heard anything that terrifying in my life, I’ve never run so fast,”

“Did I scream?” You don’t remember it.

“Bloody murder,” He nods, pulling back to look at your eyes.

“Yunho,” Your eyes flick up towards the open door of the practice studio, “where is he?”

His hands tighten on you, “Probably nursing his broken ribs. The guys have him,”

Your eyes widen, and the realization that he’s still under the same roof has you trembling in his arms, “He’s still here,”

“Not for long,” He murmurs, “we called the police,”

“But,” Your mind is spinning and you feel the weight of him on your chest once more, “what if he comes back?”

“y/n,” Yunho draws your eyes away from the door, “San and Seonghwa have him, and he’s in rough shape. He’s probably focused on trying to breathe, not thinking about you anymore. And even if none of that were true and he did come back,” he says, “I’d put him on the floor faster than you could blink. Mingi and I both would.”

Your muscles start to relax again, “Okay,”

“You are completely safe,”

Mingi reappears a few moments later, bottles of water in hand, and he smiles warmly, “Hey, you,”

“Hey,”

“Feeling a little better?” He asks, settling on the hard practice room floor and passing you an open bottle.

“I don’t know,” You murmur honestly, shifting in Yunho’s arms so that you’re resting on his lap with your back against his chest. You take a long drink of water and sigh.

“Listen,” Mingi smooths a hand across your thigh, “the police are going to want to talk to you. They’ll be here within the hour and then we’ll go to the hospital.”

“Why?” You tense.

“Your head,” He nods.

“It’s stopped bleeding,” Yunho assures you, “but he’s right, you could have a concussion.”

“I don’t have a concussion,”

“I didn’t realize you had a medical degree,” Mingi says, a little edge to his voice.

Hot tears well in your eyes at his tone, and you shrink back into Yunho’s arms. You know rationally he didn’t mean to scare you, he’s just worried about you, but after the day you’ve had you can’t help but shrink back in fear.

“Hey,” Yunho presses his lips to your neck, “it’s alright, Mingi didn’t mean it like that”

Mingi’s eyes blow wide, “Fuck, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean anything,”

“I know,” You tip your head to the side to offer more of your throat to Yunho’s soothing touches, “I’m just not myself,”

“It’s okay,” Yunho says again, returning to your neck and peppering kisses across your gland, and something about this should feel intimate and awkward when you haven’t talked to them yet, but all you can feel is safe.

“Really,” Mingi reaches for you, but doesn’t touch you, “I just want you to let us help, and I’m so angry with Minseok I could kill him, but I didn’t mean to put that on you,”

“Mingi,” You take his outstretched hand, “I’m okay, you just startled me, and you’re right anyways. I’ll come to the hospital,”

He sighs in relief.

“After,” Yunho murmurs, “would you - I mean, will you please come home with us tonight?”

It’s strange how much you feel like it is home, despite only spending your heat there, months ago, so long ago now you shouldn’t still feel this preternatural pull.

“I don’t know,” You say, even though your body is begging you to agree, to stay with them and only them.

“I know it’s been different between us,” He murmurs, arms tightening around you, “but you know how I feel. I just don’t want you to be alone tonight, someone should be with you,”

“Someone you feel safe with,” Mingi adds, “if that’s us,”

“It is,” You lock your hand down on Mingi’s, “I’m sorry, this is… of course you’re safe, of course you are. I’m just,”

“Let’s talk about this later,” Mingi smiles, shooting a look at Yunho you can’t quite make sense of, but brushing your fears to the side all the same, “for now, let’s just get you taken care of.”

You shudder out a breath, letting the warmth and safety of their bodies sink into you. You turn into Yunho, resting your cheek on his chest and matching your breath in time to his. Your thoughts spin, bubbling over as threads of the incident come back to your mind and you press your eyes closed before the question slips out, “Why did he do it?”

Yunho wraps his arms around you a little tighter, dropping his lips to your hair, “I don’t know,”

Mingi clears his throat, “He’s about to hit his rut,” he says, “that’s what his excuse was. He said he’s… he kept saying how sorry he was, but,”

Your eyes snap open, “Sorry? He’s sorry?”

“Sorry someone interrupted him, maybe,” Mingi’s voice is hard, his eyes firm and unrelenting, “a rut doesn’t make you do that. Not like that.”

Yunho shakes his head in agreement, “Definitely not,”

You know that, of course you know it, but after seeing Minseok’s black eyes you’re not so sure. You had never felt completely comfortable with him, but in the past you would have chalked that up to personality differences, and in the past few weeks that had all started to change. He was the kind of guy you wouldn’t date, but you wouldn’t worry about bothering you.

You sigh softly, “He didn’t seem like himself,”

“Mm,” Mingi hums, non-committal.

“A rut doesn’t make it impossible to hear the word no,” Yunho says firmly, “you don’t become some mindless animal. What he tried to do… that’s… a rut’s an easy excuse.”

You tense up in his arms, a brief flicker of what could have been. His teeth in your neck, your mind spinning into submission.

“Yunho,” Mingi shakes his head at his best friend, glancing down at you to indicate that it’s not something you can hear right now.

“I’m sorry,” Yunho soothes, holding you closer if it’s at all possible.

Your chest tightens, “Can I… I need to get up,”

His arms relax immediately, hands shifting under your elbows to help support you while Mingi jumps up and offers you his hands to pull you up. Back on your own two feet you waver a minute, but you shake off the dizzy spell and try to get your bearings again. They're waiting on a razor’s edge, hands out and ready to intervene, but you’ve made it clear that for the moment you don’t want to be touched.

A shout from the hall leaves you jumping, but you register Wooyoung’s voice a moment later, “Where is she?”

“The studio,” San’s voice replies, “slow down,”

“Is he in the back office? Give me a fucking minute alone with him,” Wooyoung’s voice is murderous and you smile at how ready your best friend sounds to do battle on your behalf, “I’ll show him what an omega can fucking do,”

“Youngie,” San’s voice is even and warm, keeping things soft, “you need to calm down,”

“Calm down,” He scoffs, his voice getting closer as he travels down the hall and you know he’s almost at the door.

“I hardly think y/n needs,” San starts to say, but then they round the corner.

Wooyoung’s eyes are wild, searching and terrified, and something inside you shatters. San’s words die on his lips when he sees you, and in a startling moment of clarity you rush forwards and into Wooyoung’s arms.

“Shh, shh,” He wraps you up tight, one hand at the back of your head as he rocks you back and forth, “you’re safe, you’re in one piece,”

“Woo,” Tears come fast, and you bury your face in his chest.

“Stupid fucking alphas,” He curses into your shoulder and you can hear his breath hitched and clouded with tears of his own, “acting like they can take whatever they want,”

You’re sure the rest of the room is bristling at that comment but you couldn’t care less.

“You want me to break the rest of his ribs?” He kisses your head, “I’ll make it look like a fucking accident, I swear to God,”

“Woo,” You laugh into his chest, vision blurry with unshed tears, “stop, that’s insane,”

“I am nothing if not a little insane,” Wooyoung squeezes you, “and you and me? We protect each other, right?”

“Always,” You grip the back of his shirt like a lifeline.

The bond between omegas can’t be understood by a single other person in the room, maybe even in the building. You cling to each other in the middle of the studio floor, encased in this moment of shared grief. Of what you are and what that means. He shifts you in his arms so he can look at your face, cupping your tear stained cheeks.

The sight of his own tears makes yours come faster, “What did I do?”

His expression hardens and he shakes his head, sucking in a harsh breath, “Nothing, not a single fucking thing. Do you hear me?”

“Woo,” You want him to let you go. You want him to tug you close again.

He shakes your shoulders hard, and in your periphery you see Mingi take a half step forward as Wooyoung pushes back on your words, “You didn’t do anything. You’re existing, and he tried to take advantage of that. This isn’t your fault, there’s nothing you could have or should have done.”

You open your mouth to say something but he plows forward.

“Alphas take, alright?” He shakes you again, more gently this time, “We’re lucky. You and me, we found good ones, but alphas are programmed to take, and we’re programmed to give. He used it against you. Nothing else.”

Your breath hitches, and you launch yourself at him, wrapping your arms around his neck and letting him cradle you again.

“Shh, shh,” He rubs your back, soothing you again.

“I hate this,” You manage, your face buried in his shoulder.

“I know,” He eases you, “I fucking hate it too,”

You hold each other a little longer until both of your tears start to subside. You stay steady in his grip, his fresh salt and cotton scent lulling you into safety. The buzzing of your brain starts to release, and the fear is still there under your skin but at least for now it’s low and letting you breathe.

Nuzzling into his shoulder you sigh, “What are you doing back here anyways?”

“San called,” He kisses your hair, “I broke several laws getting here,”

You laugh against his collarbone where his oversized t-shirt is pulled down, no doubt from the way your hands grip whatever part of him you can.

He rubs a warm hand up and down your back and when he speaks again it’s not to you, this time he addresses the alphas in the room. He clears his throat softly, head lifting up and away from yours, “So, who busted his nose?”

“Uh,” Yunho makes a small sound behind you, “that would be me,”

“Good,” Wooyoung says, “when she stops crying I’m giving you a handshake,”

You smile against his damp skin and shake your head, “I’m not crying, I’m fine,”

“Sure,” Wooyoung murmurs, but he doesn’t let you go, just strokes your back more until you settle further into him.

“The police will be here soon,” San murmurs, his voice staying relaxed and steady to make sure everything stays level in the room.

“Right,” Wooyoung sighs, “y/n, can I let you go? I don't have to if you’re not ready,”

You nod immediately though, unwinding your arms from him and taking a ginger step back. He gives you a soft smile, and you scrub the last of the tears from your face with the sleeves of your sweatshirt. He gives you a minute to stand steady and then turns to Yunho and Mingi who both look frozen and unsure of what to do or what to say.

“You both got him off her?” He says, matter of fact.

“Yeah,” Mingi’s voice is tight, like he had been choking back tears of his own, and Yunho simply nods.

“Thank you,” Wooyoung tugs Mingi into a hug and squeezes him tight before shifting to Yunho to hug him too, “seriously,”

Once they break apart, you’re left all in a haphazard circle, and you can feel all the eyes on you. It makes you so tired, dizzy, ready to be done and just crawl under a blanket for the rest of the week. In the back of your throat you still taste bitter orange.

“Um,” Your voice comes out a little more scratchy than you want, and you clear your throat, letting everything fade.

“What is it?” Yunho asks gently.

You don’t know how to ask this, how to beg them to keep holding you together so you can just get through existing in this room. You sigh, the deep exhale making you dizzy again, and step towards him, “C-can I,”

He opens his arms immediately, letting you close the space so he doesn’t assume your needs, but as you collide with him again he responds perfectly, scooping you up into his arms and letting you wrap your legs around his waist. He supports you with ease, an arm under your thighs and another situated high on your back.

“Better?” He murmurs, smiling a little as you bury your head in his neck.

You nod into his neck, and then you allow yourself one tiny moment of weakness, listening to your body and what it needs for once over your anxiety. You mumble it into his neck, but he hears you when you say, “Yunho?”

“Yeah, baby?” His voice is so soft, quiet like he’s afraid of what you might say.

You don’t miss the way Wooyoung’s eyebrows go high at the endearment, but you ignore him and focus instead on the man holding you up, together, in one solid piece. You lift your head so he hears you clearly, “Will you please take me home?”

He goes still and turns his head just a little, “Your apartment or,”

“Take me home with you,” You repeat, “I want to go home,”

This will surely just make everything more muddled and foggy between the three of you tomorrow in the cold light of day, but you don’t care. Right now you just want to be home, in whatever form that means.

He exhales low and shaky, “Alright,” he murmurs, kissing your throat softly to help calm your trembling, “I’ve got you, let’s go home,”

A warm wide palm rests on the center of your back, and Mingi leans in close to catch your eyes, “y/n, can you look at me a second?”

You pull your head up from the crook of Yunho’s neck where you’ve just been taking deep steady inhales of wet earth and meet his eyes.

“Hey,” He smiles.

Your eyes dart between him and Wooyoung, who seems suddenly ancy. “What?” You straighten up a little more in Yunho’s arms.

“You can go wherever you want,” He starts off, “but do you want us to take you home, or would you feel more comfortable with Wooyoung? Or… Seonghwa, if�� if that would be better for how you’re feeling,”

Yunho tenses a little, his fingers tightening where he holds you, and you can feel him physically holding himself back from saying a single word, from begging you to come with them.

You’ve made up your mind though, and within a second you’re shaking your head, “No, I want you,”

Yunho relaxes, his lips returning to your throat and you sigh.

“Then you have us,” Mingi assures you.

The sound of the elevators in the hall stop you all cold though, and San holds up his hands, “I’ll go see, it’s probably the police,”

The idea of talking to them suddenly makes you sick, and you’re sure it shows all over your face.

“It’s going to be fine,” Wooyoung jumps back in, “don’t worry, we’ll be there the whole time.”

You need this to be done. You grip down on Yunho’s shoulders, “I want to go home,”

“I know,” Mingi nods.

“Y-Yunho,” You’re scrambling a little in his arms, sudden panic swirling in your gut, and you twist to find his eyes, “please, get me out of here, please take me home,”

You feel it the minute he chooses you over anything else, “Okay, alright,”

“You need to talk to the cops,” Wooyoung shakes his head, trying to reason with you.

You’re trembling in Yunho’s arms and he shakes his head, “She needs to go,”

Mingi senses your heightened emotions too and you feel it when he moves closer, both of them shifting to protect you, “She can do this later,”

“I don’t know that that’s such a good idea,” Wooyoung insists.

“I couldn’t give a fuck,” Yunho grips you tighter, “we’re taking our girl home,”

“Your-” Wooyoung scoffs when he hears the words, “fucking alphas,”

“Who she wants to take her home,” Mingi points out, a distinct edge to his voice.

“Stop arguing,” You beg them, hanging onto Yunho’s shoulders, “please, please,”

“Fuck,” Yunho relaxes, stroking your back, “I’m sorry, of course we won’t, I’m sorry,”

Mingi brushes his hand over the back of your head and Wooyoung gives you an apologetic face, his defensiveness over you is understandable, but he also knows how you feel about these men and you watch him choose to hold his tongue.

A knock on the door brings you all back to the present, San handling the situation with more grace than any of you combined, “The police said that they can speak with you at the hospital and make it brief.”

You exhale heavily and nod against Yunho, “Okay, fine,”

“Are you sure?” Mingi strokes your cheek.

“I just want to be done,”

“Should we stay with you?” Yunho murmurs.

“Please,” You grip his shoulders.

“Alright,” He sighs, “Woo, could you… I’m sorry, can you grab her things? Let’s just try to make this quick for her,”

Wooyoung clears his throat, his eyes never leaving yours, “Yeah, I got it,”

“Uh,” San interrupts as you all try to gather your things, “Yunho, they want to talk to you first, they’re waiting in the back office,”

“Oh,”

“They have some questions,” San explains quietly, “but she she doesn’t need to be there for that,”

“Right,” Yunho nods and then presses a kiss to your hair, “can I put you down, sweetheart?”

Your chest warms.

“No, here,” Mingi cuts in, his hand sweeping over your back and you feel them shift you from Yunho’s arms to his, “come here,”

He settles you against his chest and you wrap around him just the same, soaking in the warm scent of cocoa and cinnamon. You let your eyes drift shut as you rest on his shoulder, “Hey, Mingi,”

“Hey,” He says softly.

“Thank you,” You sigh.

“Mhm,” He rocks you a little as he takes your bags from Wooyoung and slings them over his shoulder, the combined weight of it and you not fazing him at all, “I told you once I’ll always be here, I meant it,”

“I believe you,” You murmur into his throat.

You rest here, Mingi’s thumb rubbing a comforting line over the back of your neck.

“Time to go,” Wooyoung’s voice pipes back in, “there’s a car ready, Yunho will be there in a a few minutes,”

“Alright,” Mingi presses a soft kiss to your hair, “here we go,”

He carries you with ease, and you sink into the steady thump of his heart under your palm that’s keeping you grounded. Over his shoulder you watch Wooyoung walking with you and you see police officers down the hall. The door to the back office swings open and Yunho is leaning against the desk as he speaks with an officer. Seonghwa sits in a chair next to him, his head in his hands, blood coating his knuckles and the sleeves of his shirt. Something pulls in your gut, begging you to go to him, but then you’re outside and all you can feel is Mingi holding you as he ferries you into the car.

“Do you need anything?” He asks as he settles you into the passenger seat

“I don’t know,” You tell him honestly, letting your head drop back against the seat and taking a deep breath, eyes slipping closed.

“Don’t fall asleep,” Wooyoung jumps forward, “keep your eyes open,”

“I’m fine,” You tell him, but you still do what he asks.

“Just in case,” Wooyoung presses, “you shouldn’t fuck with head injuries,”

“He’s right,” Mingi murmurs, crouching next to you just outside the car, “and I’m sure you’re fine, but let’s just be sure, okay?”

“Okay,”

A noise just past the two of them makes you jump.

“It’s just Sannie,” Wooyoung assures you.

You nod and Mingi takes your hand in his, lacing your fingers together.

“Yunho’s almost done,” San announces, but he hurries to the car and leans in to check you, “doing okay?”

“Yeah,”

“Can you do something for me?” He cups your cheek to bring your eyes up to his.

“Mhm,” You nod again.

“I need you to just focus on us for a minute,” He moves to crouch next to Mingi, and then Wooyoung steps closer too, blocking out some of your peripheral vision.

“Why?” You fight the urge to turn around.

Red and blue lights flash in the car mirrors and you reflexively glance up at the rear view mirror, catching sight of an ambulance, and tension fills your stomach.

San reaches up and catches your face again, “Hey, look at me,”

You pull your eyes away, “Are they here for him?”

“Yes,” San nods.

“Is he badly hurt?” Your mouth feels dry.

There’s a pause and then Wooyoung sighs, “Don’t lie to her,”

Mingi clears his throat softly, “He’s pretty busted up,”

“Good,” You breathe.

San smiles, taking your other hand in his and smoothing his thumb over your knuckles. The sound of the doors catches your attention again, and you resist the urge to turn around once again. San shakes his head a little, “Just keep looking at us,”

“He really picked the wrong person to fuck with,” Wooyoung says, his hand resting warmly on your shoulder.

An image of Seonghwa and his bloody knuckles flashes through your mind and your breath quickens, “Is Hwa okay?”

Mingi’s brows draw together.

“He’s fine,” San assures you immediately.

“I saw blood,” You can’t articulate it exactly, the image is just static in your mind.

“It’s not his blood,” San promises, “we’re all fine, Seonghwa is fine,”

The sound of the ambulance doors swinging shut makes you jump.

“Shh,” Mingi squeezes your hand, “you’re safe, you’re with me,”

Everything in your body feels tense and stretched thin, but Mingi’s hand is solid in yours and you grip down on it, letting it tether you.

You listen as the ambulance pulls away, your muscles unclenching one by one as the sound of the vehicle fades.

“Woo,” You manage, “can you check on Hwa for me? And text me?”

“Yeah,” He assures you, “I got you,”

“Take a deep breath,” Mingi instructs you, “please, for me,”

You take a long inhale and meet his eyes and he nods as you let the breath out low and slow through your nose.

“Again, please,” He nods.

You breathe again, the same steady pace, “I’m tired,”

“It’s the adrenaline wearing off,” Mingi tells you, “but as soon as a doctor says you can sleep, you can rest,”

“Okay,” You nod.

San’s hand disconnects from yours and he starts to stand, “Yunho’s done,”

You twist in your seat to see him, Wooyoung stepping out of the way, and you can see Yunho jogging towards the car, “Everything okay?”

“Mhm,” Mingi keeps himself calm for you.

“That took forever,” He says, “I’m sorry,”

“It didn’t,” You shake your head, “don’t be sorry,”

“You should go,” Wooyoung interrupts, “get her looked at,”

You find your best friend’s eyes, “You’ll text me?”

“Of course I will,” He nods, “but right now just focus on yourself. We’re all okay,”

You nod, and your eyes feel heavy again already. You know they’ll be trying to keep you awake in the car at this rate.

“Let’s go,” Mingi nods, “can I have my hand back for a minute?” He smiles at you.

“Sorry,” You drop his hand, almost embarrassed at the way you’re clinging to him.

“Go,” San ushers Yunho towards the driver’s side, “if you need anything, we’re here,”

Before you know it everyone’s moving and your car door is shut. Yunho slides into the driver’s seat to your left and Mingi moves into the backseat behind you.

You meet Wooyoung’s eyes through the window and he rests a hand over his chest. He mouths a simple message - I love you, okay?

You nod and the car starts to move, but you know he knows you love him too.

Mingi shifts forwards in his seat as Yunho starts to drive, and his long arm reaches around to find your hand again. He laces your fingers together once and this time he doesn’t let go.

________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Later that night, the warm, rich scent of their apartment almost takes you out at the knees when you finally cross the threshold, so overwhelmingly comforting and enveloping that you want nothing more than to bury yourself inside the feeling for days. Mingi nearly runs into your back when you stop short in the entryway and Yunho’s watching you carefully as he hangs up your jackets.

“What?” Mingi nudges you gently.

There’s a million things to say. Things left unsaid after your last conversation, that fight you wish you could forget. The letter. All the things you were planning on confessing Saturday. The way you want so badly to erase today and just be with them. Every ounce of their soothing physicality after Minseok brings all your emotions up tenfold. Their tenderness almost chokes you. All the things you want to say are stuck in your throat. You need to get your head on straight. You need sleep.

“Hey,” Yunho waves a hand in front of your dazed expression, “are you alright?”

Not really. The hospital was long and awkward, seeing a glimpse of Minseok’s name on a hospital room door even worse, and the police had so many questions that all sounded fairly judgemental. Not to mention the probing questions from the hospital staff about your cycle and if you’re close to pre-heat. As if that matters at all. You settle for something a little less dire though, “I’m fine, sorry, it’s just been a while,”

Yunho’s ears darken to a deep shade of pink and he nods.

“You can sleep in my room,” Mingi offers, “like before. We can stay or not stay, it’s up to you.”

“I’d like to be alone,” You tell them, “if that’s alright,”

“Of course,” Mingi smooths a hand down your arm, “whatever you want.”

“Um,” You sigh heavily, “honestly I’m exhausted. I think I might just shower and sleep as long as you don’t mind,”

Yunho shakes his head, gesturing towards the hall, “Not at all, just… call if you need anything,”

You start back towards the bathroom, your eyes down and away from them, but Mingi calls out, “You remember where everything is?”

There’s no way you could forget, and you call back that you’re fine. You got it. You just need to be alone, alone is good, alone feels safe.

In the shower you scrub your skin raw, spending extra time and attention on your glands even though it makes your skin there puffy and red, pinpricks of blood at the surface of your skin and lilac bruises surrounding every edge. It doesn’t matter how comforting their scents are, nothing is taking away the deep intent of Minseok’s mouth on your neck - and the bitter, burnt citrus smell takes ages to wash away. By the time you finish, you’re about ready to collapse.

Mingi leaves you clothes again, folded neatly on his bed and ready for you. They’re nowhere to be seen, taking your plea for time alone seriously. He’s laid out a clean pair of sleep pants and a t-shirt, both fresh from the wash. The hoodie you had stolen during your heat lies next to it, and it’s a kind gesture, but suddenly you don’t want it. You want nothing.

You toss the hoodie to the side and start to climb into the bed, but that smells so heavily of cinnamon spice that you can’t think straight. You had just gotten used to blissfully smelling nothing after your shower, and so you strip the bed entirely, discarding all of the pillows and blankets and sheets into the farthest corner of the room.

The mattress is bare now, but once you turn the circulating fan off you fix the issue of the cold and his scent washing over you every time you try to close your eyes. You can still sense him, sense them, somewhere in the background, but here on the stripped bed in sterilized clothes with your skin rubbed raw, you can rest.

You drift into sleep this way, your head clear.

It doesn’t stay that way for long.

You’re not sure how long you’re asleep before you wake in abject terror, but it must be at least a couple of hours with the sky outside pitch dark and the apartment completely quiet around you. It’s obvious you’re the only one awake, but your brain can’t quite process it right. All you feel is shaking fear and the echo of hands pressing you into the wall, fingers in your hair yanking your head to the side, teeth grazing against your throat.

You scramble back, only to find the edge of the bed and you collapse off of it, ending up on the wood floor with your head spinning, Mingi’s bedside table lamp crashing down after you, a harsh flash of light pulsing through the room as the bulb breaks and gives one final dying flicker.

The pleading whine that’s caught in your throat sounds like a trapped animal to your ears, the pounding of your heart threatening to break your chest, blood rushing through your ears like a train. You can’t grasp reality, everything feels hazy and disconnected.

The door to your right bangs open, Yunho bleary and confused, but responding to your heightened state of fear within a moment. “Mingi!” He calls over his shoulder, “Mingi, get up right now,”

There’s a faraway faint noise from the other room.

Yunho skids to your side, careful not to touch you as he tries to meet your eyes in the dark, “Sweetheart, it’s just a nightmare.”

Part of you knows that you’re awake, safe and home, and not trapped in subspace with a threatening hand in your hair, but you can’t quite grip back to reality. You stutter out a reply, “I-I can’t breathe,”

“Mingi,” Yunho calls back over his shoulder again, “right now!”

“Please,” you whimper, part of your brain still lodged in the nightmare, “I can’t breathe,” Your hands cling onto the edge of the rug.

Mingi stumbles into the room now, half asleep but forced into consciousness and he’s shaking himself, catching up quickly, “What’s going on?”

You hear him, but your body is stuck remembering and you feel like there’s a weight on your chest, pressing you down harder, “I can’t breathe, I can’t breathe,” you stutter.

“Sweetheart,” Yunho comes closer now, his body curling around you carefully with his face directly at your side, “it’s a nightmare, you’re safe.” His arms loop around you gently, but stay open in case you need to move.

“I can’t,” you shake your head, images swimming before you.

“You’re not there,” he tells you, “we’re home, you’re with us, me and Mingi,”

You wheeze, trying to regulate your breath.

“Get a light,” Yunho pleads suddenly to the dark room, and you can hear scrambling, “she can’t see where she is, get a light on.”

Mingi trips over the discarded lamp on the floor, and fumbles back to the lightswitch on the wall near the door, searching for it with his hands but reluctant to tear his eyes away from you. Suddenly the room floods with the overhead light, a stark fluorescent glow, and the black spots across your vision start to clear.

“I have you, I have you,” Yunho repeats, holding you to him.

Your hand searches blindly for Mingi on the other side of you and he collapses next to you both, taking your hand and moving in to cradle you from the opposite side, “Baby,” he murmurs, “look around, look where you are,”

Yunho’s hand on your thigh grounds you, and then Mingi softly touches your jaw to draw your gaze to him, “Look at me,”

Your eyes flick up. He looks tired, exhausted even, his hair a wayward haystack. You blink hard, “What happened to you?”

“To me?” Mingi’s brow furrows and he glances up past you to Yunho.

“You need sleep,” You manage.

Mingi laughs sharply and cups your cheeks, “I’ll sleep later. Can you tell me where you are?”

“Your place,” You manage, and you feel the nightmare receding back into your mind inch by precious inch, your breath steadying out.

“Yeah,” He sighs, “Yeah, that’s right,”

“I’m home with you,” You repeat, your fingers sinking into the plush rug beneath you.

Yunho swallows hard, fixated on the way you’ve called their apartment home, not their home, for the third time tonight. You watch the flicker of recognition in his eyes, but he lets it pass and so do you.

Tears well up in your eyes again and you sigh, “I’m sorry about your lamp,”

“What?” Mingi’s brow furrows, “Who cares about that?”

“Still,” You manage, “I’m such a mess right now,”

“If you weren’t a mess I’d be more worried,” Yunho takes your hand in his, squeezing your fingers, “and you can take all the time you need to be a mess, we’re here.”

You slump forwards onto his shoulder, “I’m… so tired,”

“Let’s get you back to bed,” Yunho soothes, his voice soft.

You nod, letting them both ease you up to your feet, but when they turn to the bed Mingi makes a soft, confused noise, “Where?”

“Oh,” You gesture towards the corner where all his bedding is wrapped up in a ball, “I’m sorry I was just… it was too much,”

Mingi’s jaw tightens, the muscles in his neck jumping as he swallows hard, and you know he’s holding down so much anger, that someone could have scared you enough that any alpha’s scent became overwhelming, that your fear might extend even to them.

“Okay,” Yunho cuts in easily, “whatever you want,”

He eases you back onto the mattress, but the idea that they might be gone again strikes a deep lance of panic through your stomach and you grasp his arm, “Don’t go,”

“Are you sure?” He murmurs.

“Please,” You insist, tugging his arm again.

He eases down beside you, and Mingi crosses to the opposite side of the bed so he can follow suit, sidling up to your back but careful not to touch you until you make it clear that you want him to. You fold your arm underneath your head and rest yourself down, and when your hair shifts off your neck you hear Yunho’s sharp intake of breath at the sight of your tender gland.

“Baby, what,” He reaches for you, fingertips hovering, “sweetheart, what did you do?”

“I’m fine,” You murmur but when you feel fingers gently coast over the raw skin you hiss sharply in pain and both their hands pull back.

“y/n,” Mingi’s voice is low, shaky, and he scoops up your arm to check your wrists, finding them as swollen and bruised, “oh my god,”

“I know,” You murmur, letting your eyes drift shut.

“This is not okay,” Mingi sounds pained, “you can’t hurt yourself like this,”

“I’m okay, I promise,”

“We could have helped,” Yunho insists, “we could have scented you again, both of us, or called Seonghwa, or something, anything,”

“Seonghwa?” You start, but Mingi cuts you off as he pushes your hair further to the side to see more of your neck.

He makes a tight noise with his tongue against his teeth, “These look tender, Yunho’s right,”

“You scented me plenty,” You shake your head, letting your hair fall back into place, “but I promise, I’m okay,”

Mingi wraps his arms around you from behind, tucking you close to his chest and dropping his head onto yours, “You’re scaring me,” he confesses into your hair.

“I know,” You murmur, “but I wasn’t trying to hurt myself,”

“And now?” Yunho asks softly.

“I’m a little better,” You pull him closer, “I was overwhelmed earlier and… even you both I didn’t want, but now? I feel safer, clearer,”

Yunho kisses your forehead, letting his lips linger as you all get your emotions back in check, “Okay,”

“Can we stay just like this?” You nuzzle into him, pulling Mingi in closer behind you until you’re snuggled up so tight you might overheat .

“I’ll be wherever you want,” Mingi wraps his hand around yours and tucks them into your chest.

Yunho murmurs his agreement softly and you nod, letting their heat soak into your body and releasing your tense muscles bit by bit. You were supposed to tell them how you felt already, you need to get it out in the open before things get too blurry again, but right now you have to let it go.

Silence stretches between the three of you, their breathing even and low, and you’re not sure if they’re asleep or awake when you make your quiet plea in the dark but in a whisper you beg them to never, ever let you go again. At least for tonight, they hold you fast.

#this night together fic #honeyhotteoks fics #yunho x reader #mingi x reader #yungi x reader #yunho #mingi #yungi #ateez fic #yunho fic #mingi fic #yunho ff #mingi ff #ateez ff #ateez series

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gigglesandfreckles-hp · 6 months ago

Note

I just found your page and stalked all your writing lol, it’s absolutely amazing and I’m highly obsessed now!! from the prompt list for jily: “What are we?” + “I would like us to be more than friends.” (Head students era confession?)

oh you mean my favourite jily era??? my pleasure! ps uhhh pls don't count the words on this one

from this prompt list

James has thought about the moment at least once an hour, every day, for about two months now. Putting it into perspective like that makes him come face-to-face with the fact that he’s even more ridiculous than he’s usually comfortable admitting.

And James has always known he’s ridiculous.

The conversation plays out a million different ways in his head, like a lucid dream he can only sort of control and only up until a certain point because it’s Lily, and he stopped trying to predict her next move long ago.

It’s why she always beats him at chess. He knows her—really knows her, not like he used to think he did—but he’ll never be able to anticipate what she’ll say or do. Full of surprises, she is.

Somehow, though—his brain, in the infinite possibilities it’s constructed, failed to think of even one situation in which she would be the one asking him.

“What are we?” she asks, sitting on the bench next to him outside Scrivenshaft’s, her thermos of tea warming her hands. She's wrapped in her Gryffindor scarf with a green knit cap pulled down over her ears, auburn curls spilling out and flying around with each heavy gust of the biting January wind. She's perfect and he just—

Stares at her.

“Okay,” she says, laughing, then takes a long sip of her tea, her gaze shifting to the empty street in front of them. It’s still early, so most of the Hogsmeade crowd is either having a lie-in or getting breakfast at the Three Broomsticks.

James and Lily got out of the castle as quickly as they could in order to make the most of their day. Day, not date, because they’re friends. Sort of. Most of the time. Except for when she flirts with him and he flirts back and that one time last week when he’s almost positive she was going to kiss him and that other time last week he is positive he was going to kiss her. And all the other moments that makes him absolutely lose his head.

“Never mind,” she says, and she’s bloody smiling. “I thought we…” Another slow, agonising sip. “Never mind.”

James feels the panic set in, just like when they play chess. It’s his move, he knows it’s his move, but which way can knights move, and how many spaces can bishops take, and—

“You’re freaking out,” she observes casually. He doesn’t know when she looked back at him.

“What?” he manages, the word sounding squeaky.

She might smile again, then. He can’t be sure, because she’s lifted the thermos back up to her lips.

“I’m sorry,” she says. “I thought you were ready.” She tilts her head, studying him. “I’ve been trying to pick a good moment, you know. To talk about this. But…” She shrugs. “Guess I was wrong.” She caps her thermos of tea and stands from the bench then, looking down at him. “Wanna go to Honeyduke’s?”

“Do I want to—” He shakes his head, blinking rapidly, then looks up at her, sharply. “Huh?”

Lily laughs softly. “It’s almost ten,” she says, like this was the root of his confusion. “We can be first to the Pick ‘N Mix for once.”

She’s talking about candy. She’s just asked him to define their entire complicated relationship and then—without waiting even a moment for him to catch his breath—started talking about candy.

“Can you…” He frowns, struggling to find his words. (Struggling to remember how to breathe.) “Sit down…please,” he finally manages.

Thankfully, she doesn’t argue, settling back down on the bench beside him. He certainly doesn’t have the wherewithal to match wits with her right now if she chooses to be stubborn.

“I need a…a minute.”

“Okay,” she says, and pops the lid back off her thermos, gracefully pouring herself another shallow cup of tea. “You know,” she says, conversationally, “this works loads better than a heating charm. Marlene says I’m mad for lugging it all about Hogsmeade, but how else can I secure an infinite amount of tea to get me through the day? We don’t have a spell for that yet, do we?”

“Are you—” He breaks off and turns toward her on the bench. “Are you enjoying this?”

Her lips twitch up into a small smile. “Perhaps a little.”

He shuts his eyes tight and groans.

“I intend to be your girlfriend by the time we graduate, Potter,” she says, and he doesn’t know when she’s leaned toward him, but he can smell the peppermint tea on her breath and feel it tickle the hair near his ears. The bench creaks as she moves back away from him, taking his heart with her. “We’ve got, oh—” A pause. “Six more months. I’m not in a hurry.”

Not in a hurry. What the hell is wrong with him? He’s been waiting for this for six years. Well, perhaps that’s a bit dramatic, but—this calls for being dramatic! She’s just admitted to wanting to be his girlfriend—his girlfriend!—and he’s fumbling the Quaffle so bad he’s about to be benched.

He can’t let this moment pass by without saying something.

“Girlfriend!” he blurts out

“Is that��” Her grin grows, even as her cheeks flush pink. “Was that an offer, or are you auditioning for the role of a caveman in a play I didn’t know Hogwarts was putting on?”

James wants to pull his hair out of his head. He wants to pull it out of his head and make a nest, so he can hide forever, like those bald little baby eagles he saw with his parents on the coast last summer.

“No, I want to—let’s talk.”

She sets the thermos on the bench between them and lifts up her hands, counting her fingers one at a time as her lips move wordlessly. “Wow. Six words.”

“Lily, can—you…”

“Okay, okay,” she says, with a giggle. “I’m sorry. I’ll stop taking the piss, I swear. Let’s talk.” Folding her hands in her lap, she looks at him expectantly. “Do you want to go first, or should I?”

He gives her a significant look, making her laugh again, but she nods.

“Alright,” she begins, “well I don’t have much to say, really.” She shrugs, her legs dangling back and forth over the bench, just shy of touching the snowy ground. “I like spending time with you. I think you’re ridiculously fit. You’re a good person and—I really want to be able to kiss you without wondering if it’ll ruin everything.”

James has always found most Muggle swears to be rather lacking in oomph, but now—

Jesus fucking Christ.

“Oh,” he says.

“So, Potter,” she drawls, nudging his shin with her foot, “what are we?”

“I would—” he starts, then pauses, clearing his throat and sitting up straighter. “I would…like us to be more than friends.”

“Oh,” she echoes, her foot hooking behind his on the ground in front of them.

“Lily.”

“Hm?”

“I’ve had a—a whole speech ready. For weeks.” he confesses. “But right now, my brain is…cold, I think. So I don’t want you to take my lack of…words…as a lack of enthusiasm. I’m…very enthused.”

Lily looks at him, jade eyes blazing. “Will I get to hear the speech in the near future?”

“Do you…want to?”

“I want to hear anything you have to say, Potter,” she says simply.

“Are you sure because—”

“Yes,” she replies, moving closer. Her wind-chapped lips stop a breath away from his. “What are we, James?”

He inhales deeply and doesn’t think again before murmuring, “Everything,” and closing the gap between them.

#my fic #jily #james is Trying ™️

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ejzah · 2 months ago

Text

As promised, here is a summary of my experience at Epic Cons Chicago and meeting Eric! I’m including some of the pictures I took (with poor attempts to censor my face). Heads up, this is a long post.

I started off early in the morning with a long drive since I’m a scaredy cat and avoid the expressway as much as possible. The convention center was very full when I arrived and it took about 50 minutes for me to register because the process didn’t seem well-organized, so that wasn’t the most fun.

But after that, I was on my way to watch Eric’s panel! The panel he appeared on, had actors from several different shows, so he wasn’t asked that many questions. As usual though, he was charming and disarming. One fan asked everyone what word they would use to describe their character and I believe Eric chose “fearless vulnerability”, which is technically two words, but so very in character for Eric. I always love listening to him talk about Deeks and the depth that he infused into the character.

I have a few poorly filmed videos from the panel that I can share if you message me. I’d rather not post them just in case my account would get deactivated again. I thought of asking a question myself, but chickened out.

After that I had a very long break before my next event, so I got some tacos from a little place inside convention center. I’d give them a 5/10. They were overpriced, pretty tiny, and overall mediocre.

Now on to the really good parts!

Next I attended a meet and greet with Eric. I was super nervous leading up to it, and kind of regretted the tacos at that point. About ten of us were ushered into a small private room with chairs set up in a circle. We were instructed not to take any videos, picture, etc, before the start, so I don’t have any additional content. Eric came in a few minutes later and ended up sitting one seat over from me (😱), which was pretty darn distracting for me.

After telling us he’d never done a meet and greet before, answered several questions and chatted with us. One of the things that really struck me was just as with every video and interview I’ve seen over the years, is that Eric was so genuine, honest, and generous.

In answer to questions, he talked about the last few seasons and why there were some irregularities. Such as that the show was supposed to end after season nine and each season after that was considered a bonus and based on ability to form a tight budget. He also confirmed that none of them knew what was in “the box” aside from possibly Shane Brennan.

The greet part of the event went by far too quickly, and before we knew it, one of the volunteers announced it was time for the selfie portion. Fortunately, another fan noticed I had been trying to ask a question and spoke up for me.

Before I asked my question, I just couldn’t pass up the opportunity to shoutout wikiDeeks first. Eric really lit up and expressed how much he appreciated the hard work and thought put into the writing and contributions. He brought up an episode many fans had issues with (we figured out it was probably from the FLETC episode that shall go unnamed), and said he showed a piece of wikiDeeks writing to the writers/TPTB and basically said that it was deeper and better writing. I believe that might have been @anonkp’s wonderful work! In general, he was very appreciative and complimentary of everyone at wikiDeeks. He’s so very gracious!

We were really short on time, but I did get to ask the question “what would you change about Deeks if you could?” Eric couldn’t come up with a response on the spot, so he asked me the same question in return. I told him I didn’t think anything needed to be changed about Deeks, but didn’t always enjoy how silly he was written in later seasons.

Eric shared that he tried to play those moments in a way that put Deeks in on the joke instead of being the butt of the joke as much as he could. Unfortunately, he didn’t always have that luxury.

During our conversation, Eric was very engaging and attentive. For those couple minutes, I forgot to be nervous because he made the atmosphere so comfortable. It felt like he genuinely cared about what I was saying. My only regret is that I didn’t have time to emphasize how much I appreciate Eric’s acting and portrayal of Deeks.

After that, it was selfie time! When it was my turn, Eric bent down to my level (oh my lord he’s tall), naturally in my usual awkward way, I bent down too. 🤦🏻‍♀️ Hopefully Eric saw it as charming rather than incredibly silly and awkward. Hey, at least I made him laugh, right?

He’s so beautiful!

If any fans on here were present for the meet and greet, please let me know if I forgot anything or misremembered events. My memory is often faulty.

I also chose to get a professional shot with Eric and for that one I got a hug! I’m still not over it yet.

It was a really long day and a lot of driving, but so worth it for the chance to meet and talk with Eric. And, I’m pretty sure I came out this experience even more of a fan of Eric than ever.

#eric christian olsen #epic cons #ejzah does things #ejzah meets eco and swoons #personal

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sstormyskyess · 1 year ago

Text

Party Favors

author's note: wrote myself a gift for today since it's my birthday and of course i'm sharing the love with y'all 💜

cw: poly tf 141, fivesome, blowjobs, spitroasting, handjobs, fingering, praise, light degradation, implied off-screen aftercare

word count: 2700+

TF-141 x GN!Reader "Sleuth"

You had been wondering why Price had asked you when your birthday was. You didn’t think it was particularly relevant in this line of work, but according to Price it was for “team bonding.” Honestly, it seemed a bit redundant. You and the rest of the team had done plenty of… “team bonding” activities. Certainly more than anyone would deem professional.

You scratch the back of your head and sit in one of the chairs in the rec room. It was late; the sun had long since gone down and all of the dinner in the mess hall had been cleared off. If you didn’t know any better, you would’ve thought that you were the only person awake on base. You were asked—no, told—to be here at this time, though, so you knew your team was on their way.

You sit there for another ten minutes before you finally hear someone’s footsteps approaching and a familiar face slips through the door. “Punctual as always, Sleuth.” Price has a small gift bag in hand and a smile on his face when he steps over to the table you’re seated at. You laugh, trying to hide your anxiousness. “I do my best, sir.”

“That’s what I like about you, love.” He wraps an arm around your shoulder and runs his hand up your forearm. Your face warms up, your embarrassed little smile bringing a chuckle out of Price. “The others should be here soon. Are you excited?” He rubs the nape of your neck when you nod. “Mhm. Good.” He squeezes down gently, the muscles under your skin loosening a smidge.

“We interrupting something?” You look up at the sound of Ghost’s voice. You smile and watch Ghost, Soap and Gaz join the party. They have a box of something with them. “Not interrupting anything, boys.” Price keeps massaging your neck and watches the rest of them walk toward the table, setting the box down.

Your nervous demeanor starts to melt away under the warm touch and gazes of your teammates. You take notice of Ghost’s gloveless hands, a rare sight to be sure. Now you know they have some kind of ulterior plans for tonight. In the fleeting moment you make the connection, Ghost’s hand was on top of yours, his fingers gently brushing over your knuckles. You smile and turn your hand over to hold Ghost’s, your fingers intertwined.

You let out a soft, calm sigh and reopen your eyes to see the box now placed in front of you, Soap sitting across the table from you with a grin on his face. “Go on, open it up!” He takes both of your hands in his and puts them on top of the box. “Okay, okay!” You laugh, slipping his fingers under the box’s lid and lifting it off. Inside was a cake of your favorite flavor with strawberries lining the edges and ‘Happy Birthday!’ written in icing on the top. There were hearts surrounding the jovial birthday wish in the center. All in all, it was quite the pretty display.

Your heart swells at the sight, a big bright smile dancing on your lips. After a few seconds more of processing, you eke out a strained, “Jeez guys, you didn’t have to go all out!” You half-laugh half-sniffle and wipe your eyes. “Thank you…” You feel Gaz’s arms wrap around you from behind and squeeze you tight. “Anything for you, sweetheart.”

After you manage to calm yourself down and everyone has finished their cake and mini-conversations around the table, Price clears his throat. Everyone hushes and once he has everyone’s full attention—except for Soap and Gaz, who were still playing footsies under the table—he pulls the gift bag he came in with back onto the table and sets it in front of you. “We spent a month or so deciding what to get you. I hope you enjoy it.”

You nod and pull the bag closer, taking out the tissue paper covering whatever the gift was and bite your lip in anticipation. When you reach the bottom of the bag, your fingers graze along leather. Your eyes widen a touch. Was that what you thought it was? You pulled it out and you stared in awe at the shiny new present: a black leather collar with a silver plate on the back. Engraved in the metal was ‘TF-141.’

You turn the collar side to side, your cheeks warming the longer you look. You were speechless. You were mesmerized for a few more moments before your fingers fumble to undo the buckle on the back and bashfully look at the others. “Can…” You bite your lip. “Can one of you put it on for me?” Your voice was tiny and squeaked a bit.

Price chuckled and took it from you, moving behind you and wrapping it around the front of your neck. He pulled it snug against your throat, your breath hitching at the perfect fit; it wasn’t too tight and it wasn’t too loose. The padding on the inside of the collar was soft against the column of your neck. You revel in the feeling for a moment before clearing your throat. “Thank you guys, really. It’s wonderful…” You look down timidly.

After the collar is latched shut, Price’s hands move to massage your shoulders. “I’m glad. But, we’re not done celebrating yet, right boys?” He looked at the others and nodded, satisfied with the assortment of ‘yes, sir’s and returned nods.

You bite down on your bottom lip. You were bent over your captain’s knees, with your bottoms pushed down your legs to hang loosely around your thighs. You shiver at the feeling of Price’s hand running up and down your back soothingly. “You alright, lovely?” Price asks after he meets your eyes. You nod and press your thighs together, a needy pressure building up between your legs already. “Yes, sir. I’m okay.”

You squeak when you feel someone else’s hand grab at your ass, their calloused fingers rubbing against the softer skin there. “Christ, I love your ass, dove.” Soap’s voice meets your ears and you wiggle in his ever-tightening hold. Ghost scoffs somewhere to your side. “Hands off, Soap. Wait your turn.” He taps his foot and the hand on your ass left. You laugh quietly at the displeased grumbles that come from Soap. “Be patient, Sergeant.” There was a playful lilt to Price’s tone; you can tell he has a smile on his face. “Ghost, c’mere. You’re up first.”

Ghost doesn’t even try to hide his heavy footsteps as he circles around and ends up behind you. You shuffle, a muted excitement in his movements. You feel his large hands on the globes of your ass, spreading them apart to get a better view of your hole. Your breath hitches when his thumb draws a loose circle around the rim and you chance a quick look behind you to see what Ghost was up to; you were stopped in your tracks by Price’s fingers tugging on your collar gently to pull your gaze forward again. You whimper, the feeling sending a wave of heat into the pit of your stomach.

Your toes curl when Ghost’s hot breath grazes along your tight hole. Before you get a chance to say or do anything, Ghost’s tongue is sliding over it, the warm, slick muscle pressed flat against it. A shocked moan is pulled from your lips at the sudden sensation. Ghost hums against you, his tongue slipping inside for a moment before pulling out, just to thrust it in again. “G-Ghost!” You whimpered.

After another minute of Ghost preparing you with his tongue, he slips a finger inside, then a second. You moan at the feeling of his thick fingers stretching you out, and you grind back onto them needily. You jump when Ghost’s finger grazes your sweet spot, a jolt of pleasure shooting through you. You whine under the influence of Ghost’s ministrations, his fingers spreading and scissoring apart, pulling you open ever so gently.

You glance over to your side, your face heating up at the sight of Soap and Gaz with their eyes locked on you and both of their cocks rutting into Gaz’s hand. It’s Soap who notices your stare first and he throws a wink your way, chuckling at the way you lower your head back down out of embarrassment. You get brought back to reality when Ghost starts to lick into your hole again, his tongue trailing along your gummy walls.

He pulls away after a couple more minutes of your moaning and wiggling and takes in the sight of you instinctively trying to clench down on his digits. “All ready to go.” Ghost smirks, licking his lips and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Your stuttering breaths slowly go back to normal and you perk up when you notice Soap’s feet come into your line of sight. “My turn.” His voice sounds almost feral, predatory. Ghost pulls his fingers out, making your legs shiver.

His thick fingers are quickly replaced by the thick tip of Soap’s cock pressing up against your rim. “Relax for me, sweet thing.” You bite your lip and breathe in deep through your nose, releasing it as he pressed into you. You whimper, the drag of his cock along your walls punching the air out of you. You look back and in response, Soap snatches the back of your collar and yanks, making you look up.

In front of you, Gaz had managed to sneak his way over, his leaking dick in hand. Your mouth immediately starts to water at the sight, your tongue darting out to lick your lips. “Open wide, darling.” You don’t have to be told twice; your mouth opens and your tongue lolls out of your mouth, your pupils dilated. You couldn’t help but moan as Gaz seats himself down your throat, a little gag escaping your throat. Price starts to rub circles into the skin between your shoulder blades and the small of your back. “That’s a good pet.” He smiles at the way you squirm under his touch and his praise.

You let out a cry of pleasure—muted by Gaz’s cock—when Soap starts to move, his pace fast and firm right from the get-go. The force of his thrusts pushes you forward into Gaz, the tip of his cock prodding the back of your throat. Your eyes water and you choke, drool dripping down your chin. Gaz groans when Soap tugs on your collar again, the taut leather band squeezing his dick in your throat. “Fuck—do that again.” He tips his head back in pleasure when the sensation comes again, this time mixed with the vibrations of your moans traveling through his cock.

You feel a deep sense of relief and pleasure when your teammates start to fill your holes up in unison, thrusting in and out in perfect rhythm. Your groans and high-pitched cries had both Ghost and Price palming at their cocks. Their soft grunts feed back into your ears, your sex throbbing and painfully swollen. You glance over and see Ghost shuffle close again, stroking his thick erection. Your eyes widened in surprise when Ghost grabs and replaces his own hand with yours; you get the message quickly and start to shakily twist your hand up and down, making Ghost groan, long and deep.

“You’re so good for us, Sleuth,” Price reaches down to grind his calloused palm along your sex, and his own dick twitches under his fatigues at the wanton moan you let out. “Takes us so well, huh?” He muses absentmindedly, looking at the rest of his boys and nodding when they all babbled out agreements.

Soap groans, his pace picking up. “Fuck, y’feel so good, dove—” He grunts. The sound of skin on skin and your wet gags echo around the room. Gaz had taken a handful of your hair and his thrusts had fallen out of rhythm. His thighs tensed when a small dribble of your saliva slid down his shaft to his balls. “Gonna cum down your throat, pet. You’re gonna swallow every drop, yeah?” You nod quickly, meeting his eyes desperately and using your free hand to shakily grab onto the back of Gaz’s thigh, trying to pull him deeper. Ghost chuckled at the sight. “Dirty slag.”

Price cups your sex tight for a few seconds before quickly palming it harder, two of his fingers sliding inside of you beside Soap’s dick. Your legs kick out and your voice gets caught behind Gaz’s shaft. Your back arches as you cum and you let out a string of moans. Gaz gasps at the feeling of your voice on his dick, his own climax coming alongside yours. You gag, swallowing around him to milk him dry and drink down his release.

The softening length in your mouth is pulled free abruptly and you didn’t get much recourse before the tip of Ghost’s cock was pressing between your lips. You keep up your stroking obediently and await the second load you would swallow tonight. You look up with tear filled eyes, your gaze begging for more.

You cry out, a few tears falling down your cheeks when Soap’s tip presses against your soft spot, another orgasm rocketing through you like a speeding train. Your hole tightens like a vice grip around Soap’s shaft and he lets out a strangled groan before burying himself to the hilt. His cock twitches as he fills you up with a thick load, spurting out deep inside you.

You nearly sob at the feeling, your hand freezing on Ghost’s dick before picking up the pace tenfold, the desire to get all of your lovers off truly overwhelming you. The desperate, fucked-out look on your face had Ghost letting out a growl and pulling himself out of your grip to stroke himself to completion. His cum coated your face, some getting up into your hairline. He took his cock and smeared some of his seed over your lips and tongue, smiling at how gratefully you accepted it.

You heave, trying to catch your breath. You barely register getting gently pulled up off Price’s lap, your brain cloudy. Price jiggles your collar a bit to get you to zone back in. “Hey, love. You want to let your captain have a turn?” He smiles when he gets a tired nod from you. He leans down and kisses you, tasting his men on your lips, eliciting a soft moan from the depths of his chest.

Price lines himself up with your hole, already thoroughly lubed up with Soap’s cum, which was still lazily dripping out of you. You throw your head back and let out a sonorous cry at the feeling of his thick cock spearing open your already sensitive entrance, the rim wet and puffy. Price wipes your tears away, placing a sympathetic kiss on your lips.

His guiding hands bounce you up and down quickly, his cock bullying all of the most sensitive places along your tight, tender walls. Another orgasm started building up inside you, the wetness collecting around your hole and sliding down Price’s cock pooling around his happy trail. “S-Sir—” You whine, grasping at anything you could reach; your fingers dig into the meat of Price’s shoulders and drag down his chest, trying to ground yourself any way you could.

Your voice was hoarse by the time Price’s cock was finally throbbing, suddenly approaching his orgasm at a breakneck pace. A few more shaky thrusts was all it took for him to grunt and groan as the tightness below his stomach bursts, filling you with yet another load of cum. You moan weakly as your own climax comes once again, for the third time that night.

Your eyes blur and you collapse on top of Price, burying your face in his neck and sniffling a bit. “Did so well for us, Sleuth.” Price mutters, out of breath himself. He carefully pulls himself out of your slicked up heat and picks him up to lay him back on the rec room loveseat. He places a kiss on your forehead, smiling softly down at you. He stands up and readjusts his pants, turning to the others, “Let’s get cleaned up, boys.”

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

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skylermadness · 2 months ago

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Renewal of Strength (Saxton Hale TF/MC)

(Original Date of Upload: May 29, 2024)

Original Description:

Story commission. So this was a rather fun story to write! I've been itching to do something on Saxton Hale for some time so being commissioned to do this was actually really fortunate for me! I do wish there were some things I could expand upon such as the voice changes and whatnot but since I was on an, albeit flexible, word limit I had to do a couple omissions of things. But I got to do some extremely good muscle growth and I'm rather proud of how I handled the MC segments! Admittedly I still feel I'm not all that up to speed on TF2 stuff but like, I think it worked out well either way. This story is based heavily off artwork drawn for Arti by moltingscales on FurAffinity. The artwork can be found here. This is also my first story I'm giving a full Adult rating to. I would mark it Mature but I'm going a step up just to be on the safe side. This is mainly because there is some overt masturbation that goes far beyond being just implied.

“How long does it take to get a single vaccine for someone?”

This was a question that was directed towards no one in particular. It was just one asked by a frustrated Arti as they sat on the bed in the hospital room they were currently in. This frustration was furthered by the fact they were shirtless, which had led to them becoming rather cold during their time waiting for someone. All they could really do was stare at the door in anticipation, especially since once they got whatever vaccination they were overdue on they could finally put their shirt back on and go home. Unfortunately for them another minute goes by without any indicator of anyone coming.

“This is what I get for agreeing to random vaccine renewal requests-” Arti starts muttering to themselves, but is quickly cut off by the sound of the room’s door opening.

A man wearing standard medical garb wordlessly walks into the room. His face is extremely obscured by both a medical mask and a pair of glasses that his eyes are somehow not visible through. The only two things Arti can really tell about this guy is he has neatly kept hair, and he might be relatively buff judging by how his clothes interact with his body. Although they try not to analyze the guy for too long. They do catch a glance of what might be an empty syringe in his hand though.

“Hey,” Arti said, looking up at the doctor’s obscured face and awkwardly waving as he walked towards them. He didn't seem to get any kind of verbal greeting back however. They just watch as the doctor silently pulls out a chair from beneath a nearby desk and pushes it towards the bed the enby was sitting on.

So this was going to be quick and to the point, Arti thought to themselves. Then again having doctor's make small talk with them as they’re getting jabbed with thin pieces of metal has always been rather annoying. But also they weren't going to deny the oddly creepy air of having a silent masked man walk towards you without saying anything during the ten or so seconds of being in the room.

“So uh, this is just going to be a standard vaccination thing…?” Arti asked in an attempt to strike up a conversation and break the mildly eerie air.

The doctor had taken a seat by this point. They could also tell his gaze was fixed on them for a second, but he just nodded once in response. Guess that puts small talk out of the question…

Well, at least this'll be quick, Arti thought with a sigh.

The next few seconds were when the weirdness amped up by a little bit. Arti watched as the doctor pulled out some kind of vial from the innards of his lab coat. The strangeness came from the fact that the vial had some kind of bright golden fluid within it. Then they had to watch as he poked the syringe into the vial to pull some of the fluid within it. They couldn't help but wonder what kind of vaccine this was supposed to even be.

“Uhhh, so what vaccine is this for?” Arti asked, a mix of curiosity and worry in their voice. “I don't remember any of them looking like… that.”

The doctor had brought their chair a bit closer to them and was readying the injection. “Tilt your head rightwards,” was his only statement. No answer to the question at all. Also he had a rather thick German accent. Oddly familiar too, but Arti was too focused on the presumed lack of proper medical protocol to dwell on that for long.

“Oookay, don't answer my question then,” Arti mussitated before doing as they were asked.

For a couple seconds they felt the cold and gloved hand of the man on the side of their face, keeping their head still as the syringe inched closer to their neck. Then in one split second the needle broke into their skin, injected the weird gold fluid into their body, and then was quickly pulled away from the flesh of their neck. A low, golden glow remained in some of their neck veins for a few seconds before disappearing as the mysterious liquid dispersed into their bloodstream. A strange occurrence that Arti hadn't taken notice of as their head was unhanded by the masked man.

Instead they just watched the man push their chair back to discard the syringe on the table nearby. He would then turn to face Arti, hands clasped over his legs. He seemed to just be watching the enby, if their scopaesthesia was any indicator anyway.

“Aren't you supposed to put some kind of bandage on me or something?” Arti questioned, unconsciously touching the spot of injection with their hand. Crap, they shouldn't be doing that!

Curiosity got the better of them though and they brought the hand up to the front of their face. They were surprised to find absolutely no traces of blood on their fingers whatsoever. They were also beginning to notice a strange feeling of warmth begin to enter their body as the seconds continued to pass.

“Uhh, did someone finally turn the temperature up?” Arti nervously inquired. They would get no response from the doctor though. Just a wordless gaze through a pair of glasses they couldn't gaze back into.

The heat still persisted, and strangely enough it seemed as though the feeling was a little bit isolated at the time. There was a fair bit in their neck at the point of injection, but it had also felt like it dispersed into various areas on the right side of their body. Although among these areas it was their right arm that had the most amount of the feeling of an increase in warmth.

The truth behind this change in temperature, unbeknownst to Arti at the time, was all because of a certain change in their physicality. It was relatively minor at first as it manifested in what seemed to be a rapid fading of the scar tissue that stretched across their body. Bands of scarring that had been on their arms and the massive one on their chest, scars that have been on them for years, were dissipating into the enby’s skin to the point they might as well had never had scars in the first place. Subtlety would be lost in seconds though as another change manifested in their right arm and hand.

What was starting to embed in their hand was a tangible alteration in its size. The width and length of it had both stretched out, the appendage getting wider and larger with each passing second. This had come with a pretty hefty meatiness getting added to it as it increased in thickness rather significantly. This was something that was further accentuated with how their fingers were affected. Getting longer in proportion, but also getting quite chunkier in size. This was coupled with a certain blunting in the ends of their fingers that gave each one a blockier appearance than it had prior. In general this meant their hand had transformed into a bulky mitt, the size of it now possessing an aura of intimidation to it by just existing.

The same could be said with Arti's now swelling arm. Muscle was rapidly adding itself to the enby’s fairly skinny limb, years of working out being placed in them in just seconds. Heat continued to course through their muscle tissue rapidly as this all occurred. In their forearms, their extensor muscles beefed up in strength as ridges formed in their skin to properly outline their budding musculature. Furthermore there was what seemed to be a layer of brown hairs sprouting across the back of their forearms as well. A fairly thick dusting of fuzz had been rapidly growing across the once bare region of skin.

Their upper arms weren't left out of this swath of changes of course. At the same time as their lower arms were thickening, the musculature in their upper arms was enhancing substantially. Sweat beaded across their shoulders as their bicep burned, swelling and bulking as raw strength continuously became visible in their limb. The associated tricep was enlarging in conjunction as well, further increasing the amount of ridges that deepened within their skin. Heat spiraled within their right shoulder as their deltoids developed, broadening the region more and more as a certain roundness was being added to that half of their body.

Combined, all these changes had made their right arm look so thick and powerful. The amount of raw beef that had been added to the once thin limb was impressive. And it seemed as if that hadn't been the only area of their body it would be contained in as while the changes slowed in their right arm the transformative effect would seem to spill over into their chest and torso. The temperature of their core steadily rises and sweat continues to formulate on their hot, hot body. This meant the intense warmth circulated within their chest and with that came more meat being added to their twinkish body.

The amount of mass that was in their chest increased at a relatively steady pace. Second by second their pectorals swelled forwards, the previous flatness of the region being accreted and built up into a sturdy form. This form was one that was rectangular, yet round. Relatively meaty with a side of fat. That had been the appearance that was being taken on by their newly thickened pectoral muscles. And with the continuous passing of time it would seem as if their pecs would continue to inflate into hefty slabs of meat. Though their increasingly larger size may have been helped by the fact that Arti’s body was steadily broadening in its size and width. This would also be accompanied by the growth of hair beginning on their chest region.

It was by this point that all the weird feelings Arti was experiencing had finally prompted them to investigate why they felt so warm or their chest had felt ridiculously itchy. Although once their gaze wandered to their chest their eyes widened in panic. “What the- why am I so large!?”

Their eyes constantly shifted focus between looking at their chest and looking at the doctor that sat a few feet away. A part of them had been expecting some sort of answer, but of course they'd get nothing. Instead they're just forced to watch the swelling in their chest seemingly slow as the massive shelf they had developed finishes forming. They had also been granted the sight of watching as a thick bush of chest hair emerged atop their pecs. Starting off as a light dusting before rapidly thickening, the brown coloration became more prominent as the fluff got denser. All the while it seemed to be taking on some kind of shape as its amorphousness was quickly shifting into the appearance of…

“Why is my chest hair in the… the shape of- urgh-”

Their statement rapidly gets cut off as they feel a tingling in their throat. Although beforehand they could hear some kind of rapid alteration settling in their vocal cords. As if in mere moments their voice had gone from normal to quickly deepening in tone.

“Th-the hell…”

The changes in their physicality would only continue to spread. Heat shot through their left arm as the muscles began to rapidly plump up in the once-unchanged limb. Their thin and impressive form being quickly consumed by the pure strength of an enhanced musculature. It wouldn't take very long for their left arm to swell to mirror their right one. Bulky biceps, thick triceps, hairy forearms, and another chunky hand that could knock the lights out of a person in an instant.

Concurrent with that was a change in their abdomen. Their gut churned as what little fat was on it appeared to bubble. It quickly is proven that it isn't their fat that's bubbling however as yet again muscles rise from their once untoned form. Sculpting out of their abdomen was a series of rock hard abs. The fat in the area practically melted away as a six-pack chiseled itself into their form. This was accompanied by another surge of strength, a strange feeling of power continuing the cycle itself around the enby’s masculinizing form.

“Ugh, why does this… feel kind of good…” Arti moaned as they felt more sweat bead off their warm skin. The sound of their changing voice continuously resonates in their ears. So deep and manly, and they could swear they were hearing the beginnings of an Australian accent settling into it. Perhaps that would explain the Australia-shaped patch of chest hair.

“…fuck, mate, that’s actually hot,” they remarked, a slow realization about the rather attractive nature of this transformation forming in this mind. “I-I shouldn't be enjoyin’ this though… this isn't normal-”

More sweat forms on their forehead as they feel an odd pressure in their lower body. Could it be their legs finally bulking up? No, it was obviously not in that region. It was much more centralized. Much more intense. Arousing, even. So Arti’s gaze moved further downwards to the source of the feeling.

The only thing Arti had been wearing was a pair of sweatpants. Legwear that had normally fitted the enby just fine, alongside being pretty loose and comfortable. That was a notion that was being contested real fast as a roundness steadily formed in the middle of what they were wearing. A straining coming from within the briefs they had beneath their pants. A bulge forming where one had not existed before in both garments. And what's worse is they could feel their thickening manhood rub up against their undergarments. All those nerves being stimulated all at once, an intense eroticism being added to their transformation in a way that hadn't existed prior. It somehow made them heat up even more.

“Mmphf, no, can't-” they let out a deep moan. Speaking was already proving itself a mistake. Just hearing their voice was making more and more blood rush downwards at unfathomable speeds. The deep tone echoing in their ears as the Australian accent lined their speech.

They couldn't stop themselves from bringing a hand down to their groin and squeezing it a little. To just further stimulate that intense feeling of arousal a little further. An action that should be pretty easy with how much meat they seemed to be packing now. One that seemed relatively large judging by that bulge they were sporting now.

“Fuckin’…” was all they could utter as they rubbed their bulge more. The erotic intensity of their changes being further fueled to such a point that it replaced all their panic and concern. All of which caused a thought pattern that they needed to do this at least once just to end that feeling. So that's what they ended up starting to do.

The transformation hadn't ended though. That act of submission was more of a sign that it had to continue more than anything else. Especially since the lower half of their body still had more that had to be done to it.

This meant that the rest of their sweatpants were on the way to becoming just as strained as the crotch region, if not moreso. Another wave of muscle mass alteration washed over their legs and prompted a reaction in their thighs. Their hamstrings and quadriceps grew in tandem with each other, swelling with bulk at a relatively rapid pace. It wouldn't take very long before the crevices that outlined and defined their leg muscles indented in the material of their sweatpants.

All the while the comfortable, stretchiness of their legwear proved to be somewhat useful as despite the very tangible undersizing of it their shorts were still trying to contain their beefier legs. It would seem as though their sweatpants couldn't contain everything as they steadily rode up the crus of their legs, a mixture of height adding and their swelling calves prompting this to occur. This allowed some of their relatively sparse leg hair to become visible, and it was the same shade of brown that had been taken on by the hair that was on the rest of their body.

The last part of their lower body that was consumed by this menagerie of concurrent changes had been Arti’s feet. They had actually still been wearing their shoes, which had resulted in a budding pressure in their footwear as their feet had begun to enlarge. Similar changes to their hands had occurred within their feet with them both stretching out in length and width while getting increasingly thicker. The appendages had pressed up against the sides of their shoes as a result, while the bridges pushed up against the top. They could feel the topline constrict against the wider diameter of their ankle while their heels dug into the back portion of each shoe. The toecap of what they had worn bulged with multiple mounds as each of their toes chunked up in size, and these mounds got larger as their toes continued to squeeze into the front end of their shoes. After a good few seconds though a rip would pierced the air as their footwear finally burst open to allow room for their larger feet to breathe.

“Mmf, guh,” Arti’s transformed voice practically rumbles in their neck. Their mind continues to be filled with a certain erotic euphoria as they stimulate their bulge more and more. “Damn, feels… so good…”

They were fully into it by this point. Heat continued to envelop their entire form, a weird mix of transformative warmth and the flames of arousal. Sweat continued to form and dribble itself down the enby’s forehead. Their deep and grizzled voice practically growls as they can feel themselves on the cusp of release.

A pressure soon begins to wrack Arti’s skull, and they clench their jaw as they push through the oddly discomforting sensation. The aforementioned jaw quickly became affected by this pressure as it entered a process of reshaping itself. Their once rounded jawline quickly hardened, chiseling into a more rigid and angular form. This was accompanied by an alteration in their jaw’s bone structure, each end just slightly diffusing to grant their chin a cleft. Although the entirety of their skull’s structure seemed to shift as it widened and shifted to attain a more rectangular form.

As this occurred there was a light itching that they started to feel above their upper lip. A sensation that was being caused by the sprouting of a few hairs in that region. Although a few quickly became a lot as more and more brown fuzz continued to poke out their skin. A sparse and stubbley appearance momentarily had been taken on before it thickened even more. Just so many hairs forming to create a dense bush of fluff above their lip, said bush seeming to take on an almost trapezoidal shape as the hairs grew in prominence. By the end of this formation Arti sported a rather thick mustache.

That wasn't the only thing going on though. Concurrently there had been multiple aspects of their face that were in the process of shifting to fit their more rugged face. The shape of their nose heavily altered as it widened, rounded even to take on a thicker and more chunky appearance. Their eyebrows seemed to thicken a fair bit, thin lines sprouting more and more hair to turn them into thick bushes of brows. This would also come with some reshaping as a more diagonal angularity embedded within the form of their eyebrows. Perhaps the most extreme of the changes was just how weathered their face was becoming though, signs of aging rapidly setting in with the formation of wrinkling beneath their eyes and around their mouth. This all further enhanced the ruggedness of their facial features though.

Another extreme change had settled in their hair. All while their faces changed, their hair was rapidly shearing itself. Clumps of fluff cutting themselves off from Arti's head before straight up disintegrating in mid-air. Meanwhile what hair did remain was extremely short, and its nigh-indigo coloration was instead being rapidly replaced by the on-set of brown. This would only continue throughout the entirety of their head. What was once long and fluffy hair was being lost at an extremely quick pace, more noticeable bits cutting away and disappearing from the front of their face and the back of their neck. Other bits that couldn't shear themselves were shortened instead. No matter what though it all led to the exact same result: a short, crew cut style that looks nothing like how their hair used to be.

With the changes to their head and face settling it would seem as if Arti’s physical changes had come to an end. This had coincidentally come with an additional thing coming to an end as the pent-up sensation within them finally released, the overwhelming stimulation they were experiencing coming to a slow halt as they finally came to a climax. This came with the steady flush of all the heat within them as their body entered the refractory period.

“Fuck, that was good…” they admitted. Their voice had seemed to settle into that hot Australian-accented deepness that it was obtaining this whole time. Although now that they were finished pleasuring themselves they were slowly coming back to their senses. “I… I have a feeling I shouldn't have done that-”

Their deep breaths continued to escape them as they pushed themselves forward. Everything felt weird now and they could feel a headache emerging in their forehead. They couldn't help but clench their jaw in reaction, one of their massive hands being brought to the side of their head as they felt so many things rush into their brain.

“Fuck, my… head-” they groaned out in confusion.

It was like some kind of hurricane was storming around their psyche. As if the changes hadn't only been physical, but mental as well. Thoughts and memories that hadn't existed before were being implanted at an extremely rapid rate, rushing into their brain and practically overwriting every aspect of who they had once been. And all because that one moment of weakness was enough for their mental fortitude to absolutely collapse and allow for this to happen.

They weren't unaware of any of this of course, but there was nothing they could really do about it. It was already a struggle to discern what was right and what was wrong about themselves at all by this point. Furthermore anything that was Arti was just being completely replaced with a whole new identity. Completely mundane memories being rapidly replaced with a life of over-the-top violence and animal combat. Their perception of themselves quickly warped into that of a strong, confident man with a constant itch to get into a fight. Something that was completely ingraining itself into his personality as that bloodthirsty boisterousness completely overpowered his former self.

There had also been layers upon layers of additional strangeness. Was the world around him shifting? No, it couldn't have been. It had always looked like some lair of medical catastrophe. Although he could've sworn it was different. He could've sworn he was wearing something different as well. Although there was the shine of the metal on his belt, or the rugged appearance of his denim shorts, or the tough look of his boots, or even the sensation of his Akubra hat atop his head. All of this had an overwhelming air of familiarity that felt more correct. These were the only things he was fully willing to wear after all.

“...the hell was I goin’ on about?” he asked himself, mental alterations seeming to force him to forget his concerns. Forget almost everything that had just happened. Purged the thoughts that he had been someone else, that he had become someone else. The only thing he could recall from the past few minutes was that feeling of intense eroticism that completely overwhelmed him for a bit. “That felt great!”

The massive room that was the Medic’s medical office (slash experimentation chamber) loomed over the two men as Saxton Hale came back to his senses.

“You seemed to have enjoyed that quite a fair bit!” The Medic commented as he finally took off his mask, alongside removing his glasses to disengage the protective lenses that had been over them. “I was anticipating a rather intense reaction to my advanced healing formula, but I had surprisingly not accounted for an enhanced sexual drive.”

“Well it feels like that did a whole lot more than just heal me.”

“Hm, potentially,” Medic put his glasses back on. “Now tell me, how do you feel? Any liquefied organs or the sensation that something's about to explode?”

“I feel good!” Saxton responded, flexing both arms in a show of raw strength and power. “If anything I feel like I can finally get that tiger back for almost tearing out my heart!”

“You probably could,” Medic said with a sly smile. “If the formula works properly you will be able to survive multiple incisions to your jugular veins!”

“Whatever that means, it has the word ‘survive’ in it and I like it!” Saxton dumbly replies. It's honestly a surprise he heard anything the Medic said since he seems rather fixated on his massive muscles. Although he does take a second to glance towards Medic to say, “Thanks for this, doc!”

The doctor smiles from the compliment. “Of course! Not often do I get the chance to test out my projects on the CEO of Mann Co.!” Medic then sits back in his seat, smile becoming more devilish.

Not often is he able to succeed on such intense transformative effects from his creations either. He will definitely have to make sure to replicate this outcome again in the future…~

#character tf #tf #transformation #human tf #muscle growth tf #male transformation #bara tf

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cowgurrrl · 1 year ago

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Hello! Would it be possible to get some rockstar!joel and actrees!reader proposal/wedding stuff? Absolutely in loveee with the story!!

Yesssss!! I’m so excited to write this!! Thank you for the request 🫶

I Want To Marry You

Pairing: rockstar!joel x actress!reader

Author’s note: Dedicated to everyone who ever loved me enough to try again. Let’s get coffee sometime.

Summary: Joel asks you The Question [3.3k]

Warnings: mentions of anxiety, family fluff, things coming full circle, oh god I love them

Joel's been acting weird the past few days. You're not in a fight. You're between projects right now, and he's always plunking music in the home studio. Everybody's healthy and happy. You can't pinpoint exactly why he's being jumpy or disappearing into the garage to take phone calls, but you trust him to tell you if something's happening. Still, it throws you off.

When you tell Carolina about it, she reassures you it's probably nothing. "Maybe he's going to surprise you with a romantic getaway or something like that." She suggests, and you laugh as you fiddle with Daisy's collar. She also seemed to sense the shift in the house because she's gotten especially clingy recently.

"You have kids. You know how hard it is to get away." You say, shaking your head.

"Yeah, but my kids are seven and three. Not seventeen and twenty-one."

"Still! Ellie's in school, and even though Sarah has her own apartment now, I don't like going super far in case she needs one of us. That's why we stagger our schedules like we do."

"Did your mom worry about you this much when you were twenty-one?" She asks. You laugh because she knows the answer. She knew what you were like in your early twenties, and somebody definitely should've been worrying about you.

"My mom didn't even know what borough I lived in at twenty-one." You say. "It's not a bad thing to want to be close. Do you remember when I dropped a plate and cut my foot open on the broken glass and had to take a cab to the hospital?"

"God, don't remind me." She shudders. Carolina had come home to find your tiny apartment in Hell's Kitchen empty and covered in blood. For exactly twenty seconds, she believed you'd be axe-murdered and dragged away by the killer until you called her and told her what happened, resulting in a ten-minute-long conversation about how many people in Manhattan realistically own axes.

"All I'm saying is I don't want Sarah to be bleeding out in the back of a stranger's car if Joel or I can be there instead."

"You worry too much." She says. "But, then again, all the best moms do."

"Not their mom." You say quickly as if she’d thrown you a ticking bomb and you’re trying to pass it right back to her.

"Yeah, but you're the closest thing they have to one."

"That's true, but I don't want to put that kind of pressure on the girls. They shouldn't have to call me anything they don't want to, and I'm not going to replace their moms."

"Of course not, honey, and nobody would accuse you of doing that, but you'd be lying to yourself if you said you didn't love those girls like they're your own."

"I know." You sigh. "I just worry."

"I know you do." She says. Carolina has been there for all your worrying over the years. Worrying about how you were gonna pay rent, when your next job would come in, and whatever stupid boy you were seeing at the moment. She knows how to calm you down and take your mind off things. "Why don't you get out of the little worry hole you've dug yourself into and come with me and the girls to get our nails done? It'll be fun, and you'll get to hang out with your goddaughters."

"When?"

"Tomorrow?" She says, and you mentally flip through your calendar.

"I think I can do tomorrow. Send me a time and place, and I'll be there." You say as the front door opens and closes. You furrow your brows and walk to the top of the stairs to see what's happening. A smiley face greets you with a wave, and you hurriedly hang up on Carolina.

"Sarah! What are you doing here, bug?" You ask as you rush down the stairs to hug her. Joel beams as he watches you embrace her for several long seconds, not pulling away until she does.

"Just missed y'all." She mumbles into your shoulder, and you kiss her temple. She's twenty minutes up the road, but it feels like a lifetime away.

"Sarah!" Ellie yells and joins in on your hug without hesitation. The three of you dissolve into a fit of giggles, and Joel just stands there, watching the madness unfold. Joel has never been good at hiding his emotions, and you've always been good at reading him like a book. The look he gives you and the girls is full of love and pride and something deeper, something more meaningful. You raise an arm to pull him into the group hug, and he pretends to be annoyed, but he snuggles in with the three of you, kissing each of your foreheads.

You spend the night making dinner and chocolate chip cookies with the girls and Joel (and Daisy ever so graciously cleaning up the remnants of a food fight Joel started) before curling up on the couch with them and watching a movie. It's just like every other time you've sat and watched whatever movie the girls have been dying to see, but as you rest against Joel's chest, something pricks in your brain. This feels different. He feels different. His hands run a nervous course from your shoulder to your wrist, and his head occasionally dips to kiss at the juncture of your neck. It's like he can't sit still.

"You okay?" You whisper, glancing at him. He gives you a confused look but nods anyway.

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"I don't know. I'm probably just anxious for no reason." You shrug. He pulls you close and kisses your temple, keeping you close as the movie continues. At the end of the night, Joel carries both the girls to bed even though he's forty-three and could've let them sleep on the couch. You didn't tell him this, of course, because who are you to pull him back from Dad Mode? So, you cautiously walk in front of him, kicking stray clothes or backpacks out of the way so he doesn't trip. Once Sarah and Ellie are safely tucked into bed, Joel scoops you up by your waist and throws you over his shoulder to carry you into your shared bedroom.

You laugh the whole way in, and when he plops you down on the bed, you wrap your legs around his waist and keep him close. Your fingers reach up to tug the necklace out from under his shirt collar and play with the pendant as he stares at you.

"What're you thinking about?" You ask.

"Thinking bout us." He says, and you raise your eyebrows at him.

"Oh, do tell."

"We've been together a long time."

"Sick of me already?" You ask, making him laugh, but he shakes his head and kisses you, traces of chocolate and cinnamon lingering on his lips.

"Never." He says. "I was just thinkin' bout it." Technically, it's true. You guys have been together for a while. This year, it'll almost be four years since you walked into that office in Beverly Hills and met him. You remember thinking you would finish out the contract and never see him again. Little did you know Joel Miller would become the man making you dinner most nights and carrying you off to bed. Or that he'd throw you the best thirtieth birthday party in the history of birthday parties. Or that you'd move in with him and his daughters. Or that you'd love him more than you've ever loved anyone.

"It's weird to think I went so long without knowing you." You mumble, your hold on him tightening like you're scared he'll fade away if you don't cling to him. He rests his forehead against yours, sensing your anxiety spiking, and you're overwhelmed by him. Your legs are still locked around his waist, and your chests are touching, the points of contact sending little butterflies fluttering through your veins. You can't see, taste, feel, or smell anything that isn't Joel.

"'M not goin' anywhere." He says, and you nod. "Ever."

"I'm gonna hold you to that, Miller." You joke, trying to ease your brain out of your spiraling and lighten the air between you two. He laughs, and the room brightens as he does.

"Do your worst, darlin'."

When you wake up the next morning, Joel isn't there. You reach for him and find a piece of paper on his cold pillow. How long has he been gone? How the fuck did you sleep through him rolling out of your arms? You squint in the early morning sun as you read the note.

You sigh and grumble into your pillow. What kind of psychopath runs errands at nine in the morning? The kind of psychopath you love, that's who. You lay in the too-big bed for a few more minutes before finally getting up and checking your phone. Carolina has texted you with the address of a nail salon and told you to meet her at eleven, but other than that, your phone is radio silent. Not that you're complaining, but normally you're bombarded with notifications from when you wake up to when you go to bed. It's nice, if not a little unnerving, to not have five million people to respond to the first thing in the morning.

When you walk downstairs, you expect to see Sarah and Ellie sitting at the table and eating, but no one's there. You call for the girls, but the only person who responds is Daisy, who dances in front of you. You crouch down to pet her and give her good morning kisses. "Just us today, huh?" You ask, a little sad, but nobody is more excited about one-on-one time quite like Daisy Mae. You give Daisy breakfast before letting her run around the backyard and making yourself something to eat.

You scroll aimlessly through your phone until it's time to leave and meet Carolina and the girls at the nail salon. Elizabeth and Victoria launch themselves at you the second they catch sight of you, and you spend the better half of your appointment with a child on your lap and listening to the latest drama from Elizabeth's first-grade classroom. You have the girls help pick out what color to paint your nails, and they each land on a pretty ballet slipper pink. "Good taste, guys," you praise as you show the nail technician what color you want. "Just like your mama, huh?"

"I mean, I wasn't gonna say it," Carolina says, and you laugh. Caro, like usual, is right about needing to take some time for yourself to stop worrying. You can actually relax in the big, plush chairs and talk to the girls like nothing could be more important than what they had for breakfast. Carolina hugs you tighter than normal at the end of your appointment and says she'll see you later before ushering the girls into their car seats. You barely have time to react before she's driving away like nothing happened.

Did you make plans with her and forget about them? It's happened before, so you wouldn't be overly surprised if it happened again. But if that's the case, why didn't she say anything? You shake your head as if it'll shake out all your racing thoughts and get in your car to drive home. When you pull into the driveway, everyone's cars are back where they belong, and you selfishly get really excited about seeing them. Except, the exact second you step through the door, Joel is putting Daisy's harness on her and has his running shoes on.

"Where are you going?" You ask, your mood dropping at seeing him ready to leave again. He looks up and smiles despite the pout on your lips.

"There you are! We were waiting on you so we could take Daisy for a walk." He says, breathless as he wrestles with your pitbull. You look past Joel and see Sarah and Ellie standing there with shoes and sunglasses on.

"We really need four people for a dog walk?"

"I wanted to show the girls the new route along the beach we found." He says. "Is that okay?" You nod.

"We just might look crazy, but, of course! Let me change my shoes!" You call as you take the stairs two at a time to get up to your bedroom. You decide to wear the pink tennis shoes to match your cute pink nails before ambling back downstairs and walking out the door. When you first rescued Daisy, she didn't let anyone but you hold her leash. However, after years spent with Joel and the girls, she can be walked by just about anyone as long as you're there. She's as much of your comfort dog as you are her comfort person.

Taking your hand in his, Joel walks Daisy with the other and swings your hands through the air as Sarah and Ellie walk behind you. It's a little silly, but you'll take all the affection after waking up without anyone else in the house. Slowly, the five of you make your way toward the sound of the crashing waves and the smell of salt in the air. The cliffs hang ominously above the empty beach and boardwalks, but you love it. You once told Joel when you walk out this far, it feels like you're the only person around. Something about being near the water makes you feel even better. A pop of color near the sidewalk catches your attention, and you break off from your little ragtag group to see what it is.

"Joel, come look at this." You say, leaning over the rope to look down at the wildflowers dancing on the cliffside. It's gorgeous, and the wind perfectly balances the blistering hot day, but he doesn't immediately appear at your side like he normally would. You furrow your brows and turn to see him down on one knee with a ring in his hand. Your breath catches in your throat, and you immediately cover your mouth with your hand. Joel smiles with watery eyes as he reaches for the other and pulls you close to him.

"Did you know about this?" You look past Joel to see Ellie and Sarah standing there, Daisy's leash wrapped around Ellie's wrist as Sarah records on her phone, and they laugh. Their smiles and teary eyes are all the confirmation you need, and you look back down at Joel. "Is this why you've been acting so weird?" You ask, and he laughs.

"Yeah, this is why I've been actin' so weird," he says. His Adam's apple bobs as he says your name and your legs shake under you. "I love you, and I fall more in love with you every single day. There's not a single moment I've spent with you where I've not wondered what the fuck you see in me." He's crying now, but you can't stop the laughter from bubbling out from your chest. He squeezes your hand and takes a deep breath before continuing. "And you don't just love me, but you love my girls. You make them feel safe and cared for. You've given them somethin' I've been tryin' and failin' to give them for years, and I will spend the rest of my days tryna repay you for that."

"Will you marry me?" He finally asks, and you sniffle. Tears stain everyone's face, and even Daisy is crying next to Ellie, and you'd laugh if you could see past the tears in your eyes. You nod and drop to your knees with Joel.

"Yes." You say as you grab his face and kiss him. "Yes. Yes. Yes. Of course, I'll marry you." You repeat over and over again as his arms lock around your waist. Sarah and Ellie cheer, suddenly no longer annoyed at your PDA, and you smile against Joel's lips. He adjusts his hold on you to give you a good look at the ring for the first time, and all your breath leaves you in a huff. It's gorgeous. A simple oval-shaped diamond on a gold band with an engraving on the inside.

"What does this say?" You ask, and he smiles as he holds it so you can read it. You immediately start crying when you read and realize what it means. He wrote inside your engagement ring, "And one day, we'll get coffee & try again." You said it to him before you left for Ireland when your heart was broken, and you didn't know the future could ever be this soft. He slips it onto your left ring finger and gathers you in his arms, both of you still on the ground and crying like crazy people. You don't care. You hold him so tight you almost miss him whispering into your skin.

"Thank you for trying again with me." He says. Ellie, Sarah, and Daisy join in on your crying in the middle of the sidewalk huddle, and you're completely surrounded by love. After a few minutes, you calm down enough to stand and kiss Joel again, making people cheer from the beach below. When you look over the rope, down to where the wildflowers are, you can see a group of your favorite people on the beach. They must've been hidden until Joel could propose, and now they're all making their joy well known with hoots and hollers.

Joel holds your hand as the girls lead the way down to the beach, where there's a makeshift bar and picnic set up with a giant banner reading "CONGRATULATIONS" with a little ring in the middle. "This is what the errands were this morning," Joel tells you quietly, and you smile.

"You're pretty good at keeping secrets, Miller."

"Not really. Everyone here knew I was proposing before you did," he says, and you laugh. "Besides, I'd watch it with the Miller thing considering you're becomin' one."

"I guess that's true." You sigh happily as Ryan ambushes you, picking you up in his arms and spinning you around. You squeal until he puts you back down and immediately demands to see your ring. Carolina comes up behind him as you show him, her eyes popping out of her head at the sight.

"Damn, Joel!" She exclaims, and Joel laughs.

"Only the best for my bride." He says. My bride. It rings in your head like a bell, echoing through your mind like gospel. You look around at the faces of everyone you've ever loved. Your manager, Sierra, and her partner, Bianca, are talking with Lili and Peter. Sarah and Ellie are running up and down the beach with Daisy, Elizabeth, and Victoria, struggling to keep up. Hank and Lucia patiently wait their turn at the bar next to Tommy and Maria. Your beauty team, Alexa and Jenna, laugh together as they talk to a handful of other costars they've also worked with. The beach is crawling with family, both of origin and found, and you wouldn't want it any other way.

As you make your rounds with Joel on your arm, showing off your ring and trying not to cry as people tell you how happy they are for you, you wish you could show your past self this moment. The girl who packed up all her shit and moved across the world after breaking up with the love of her life. The girl who spent countless nights crying herself to sleep and going to therapy and trying to create a better life for herself. The girl who almost backed out of a coffee date three years ago because she was so scared the man on the other side of the table wouldn't like what he found. You wish she could see this and know she did the right thing. You wish she knew things ended up okay. You wish she knew she got to try again, and it changed her entire life. Wherever she is, you hope she knows she did good.

"What're you thinkin' bout?" Joel whispers in your ear as he hands you a glass of champagne. You smile and shake your head.

"Just… someone I used to know."

#one for the money two for the show #rockstar!joel x actress!reader #rockstar!joel miller x actress!reader #rockstar!joel #tlou au #the last of us au #the last of us fluff #tlou fluff #joel miller au #joel miller fic #joel miller fluff #joel miller series #joel miller x reader #joel miller the last of us

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darklydeliciousdesires · 7 months ago

Text

Sky Full of Stars - Chapter Ten.

Huge thanks to the few of you still invested in this story. I'd love to hear from a few others who are reading it, too, if you'd be so kind as to leave a little comment?

Previous chapters - One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine

Tag list - In the comments

Words - 4,430

Warnings - 18+ content throughout. Minors DNI!

“Baby love, you’re quiet,” he called, walking around from the lounge and into the kitchen after finishing his call, finding the space empty. “Jade?”

Silence. Had she gone for a bath, and he not noticed? Checking the bathroom, he found nothing but an empty room, the same with the bedroom and her mini studio. Going back into the kitchen again, he pulled his phone out, scrolling to hit her number. It was while the call was simply ringing out that he noticed a letter next to her untouched glass of wine, picking it up. As soon as he began to read, he cut the call, concentrating on the contents.

With every word he read, his heart sank with a led weight, his forehead creasing further. “Lady, you’ve gotta nerve.” he whispered into the nothingness of the kitchen, putting the letter down again and picking his phone up. Still no answer from Jade. Fuck.

He knew exactly what this would have done to her, bringing back an event he knew she hadn’t truly processed and moved on from, seeing the bomb that had been Polina suggesting even for a second that any of it had been her fault. Her son was a steroid junkie whose actions had finished his relationship; Jade could have been absent for more than she was, and his choices wouldn’t have been her fault. It made his anger prickle sharply to read even the mere inkling of anything to the contrary.

What was more, her words would only solidify the fact that Jade more than likely did blame herself for what had happened. If she didn’t, then it would be very untrue to form, but he couldn’t know for sure since she hadn’t ever really opened up to him about it beyond one brief conversation. All he did know was that emotionally, she was now likely climbing the walls, and out on the streets alone.

Picking up his keys, he left the apartment, wracking his brains as he strode down to the elevator, trying to remember her haunts. Conveniently, most were in SoHo, just a five-minute ride away from her building, Adrien hopping into a cab. He tried The Back Room first, then The Library, both missing the blonde his eyes tried to pick out among the patrons.

Lighting a cigarette outside of the second location, he stood and thought for a few moments, taking stock. He was a mixture of worried for her welfare, and slightly pissed off that she hadn’t gone straight to him about it. She always said how much she trusted and loved him, but these actions didn’t back that up.

It wasn’t about him, though.

Feeling his insides begin to coil further, he paced back and forth slowly, trying to remember other places where she might go, her little ports in a storm. Of course.

“Where we heading, my guy?” the cabbie he hailed asked as Adrien climbed in.

“Shark Bar, Nolita.”

“Can do, bud.”

It was colloquially named as such because of the shark motifs that hung upon the wall, the actual name of the establishment Spring Bar, a place he’d visited with her one afternoon shortly after Christmas. They’d sat at the bar sinking tequila shots before going back to hers and having horny, drunken sex for most of the evening, and at the bar was exactly where he found her upon entering, sliding onto the stool beside her.

It took her a moment to look up from her large glass of iced Jack Daniels and notice him there, sheepishness crossing her sad features as she cast her eyes downwards with a sigh. “Am I really that obvious?”

“Yep.” His tone was a little flat, Jade looking back up at him to see his brows knitting. “When you bolted, you went in the fucking wrong direction.” The bartender then arrived, placing a napkin down. “Stolichnaya, double. No ice.”

“Right away.”

He nodded in thanks, turning back to her. “I don’t need to ask you if you’re alright, because I know you’re not, and I won’t make this about me being pissed off that you ran away instead of coming to me. Saying that, though, we need to talk about this. You need to talk about it, the contents of the letter that fucking thoughtless woman felt compelled to send to you on her asshole son’s behalf.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Well, you kinda have to,” he spoke, taking the glass placed before him and sinking it in one, requesting a refill he immediately received, “because I’m done with watching it chip away at you, the way you stuff everything down and refuse to talk about it. And don’t you dare say it doesn’t, baby. You might be able to hide it from others without consequence, but you can’t with me.”

Her lip began to wobble, feeling discomfort slither against her insides, like an eel angrily thrashing within her belly. It should have been comforting, that the man next to her really, really saw her, but to Jade, it was scary as hell. “Not here.”

“Alright,” he spoke, tipping the contents of the glass down his throat before he stood. “Drink up.”

She did, sliding off the stool as he left a handful of bills atop the bar, grabbing her hand and squeezing it tightly, thumb rubbing a soft circle. It told her that yes, while he was pissed off with her, his love still shone through the brightest.

It didn’t stop her from being scared to death, though, her mind immediately sending support pillars to the emotional wall she’d built within, desperate for fortification. They arrived back twenty minutes later, Jade walking straight to the sideboard where she kept her liquor bottles, picking up the bourbon and a couple of glasses. “Do you want a drink?”

“Nope,” he spoke, flopping down on the couch. “I want you to sit here and fucking tell me everything you’re pushing down, because I know I’m not getting the full picture. I also want to know why you don’t deal with it, deny yourself the perfectly fucking human act of properly acknowledging whatever it is that’s bugging you.”

“I do deal with it, just differently,” she shrugged, sitting down next to him.

He scoffed lightly, shaking his head. “No, you don’t. I know it, so does Jen, too. I don’t get it either, because short term annoyances, you speak your damned mind immediately! You deal with it right there and then, and I admire you so much for it because in that respect, you’re definitely more forthright than I am. When it hits you deeper, though, you run from it,” he explained, Jade feeling her heart beginning to pound.

“I don’t run, I -”

“Yes, you fucking do! Quit being in denial over it, Jade!” Immediately, he felt bad for yelling at her, seeing her eyes turning glassy. She had to hear it, though. He’d reached the end of his tether at watching her beginning to crumble from it. Her meltdown and fleeing her apartment that evening had been the final straw for him. “I don’t want to yell at you about this but fuck, baby. You can’t keep torturing yourself like this.” His eyes searched hers for some kind of answer, but she wasn’t forthcoming, gripping his hand as she rested her head down on her knees.

She had to tell him. Somebody other than her had to know what she held within, what she hadn’t spoken of to another soul, that nobody other than she and her ex knew. It was with bravery, but crippling fear that she took a deep breath and finally spoke it aloud.

“Three months before Ivan beat me, I found out I was pregnant. We wanted to wait before telling anyone just to be sure, so we did, but sadly I miscarried at six weeks. He blamed me and my busy work schedule, said it was my fault. I think that’s ultimately why I got a beatdown, because he couldn’t keep in how livid he was that our baby died before it was even a baby at all.”

A cold wave washed right through him, pulling his hands from hers, wrapping her in his arms instead. “Fuck,” he breathed, stroking her hair, strong hands gripping her tightly. “I’m so sorry that happened to you, baby love.” She rested her head back to her knees, sobbing quietly while reliving it all, feeling comforted by the warmth of his arms and the kisses he laid against the centre of her back.

“You cannot for one fucking second think that it was your fault, you can’t,” he spoke softly, making her sit up. “It wasn’t, and it didn’t warrant you being attacked by him. It wasn’t your fault, Jade.”

“But it was, though!” she cried, shaking her head. “Even if it wasn’t anything I did or didn’t do to lose our baby, I should have seen it coming. I should have gotten out of there quicker and then maybe I wouldn’t have ended up with pins holding my cheekbone together! I should have known he’d never forgive me for it! I should have seen it coming with Jen as well, instead of ignoring that she was spiralling because I couldn’t deal with it, and now, now I’m terrified I’m going to miss something coming with you that means ultimately, I’ll lose you.”

There it was, her emotional dam finally bursting, Adrien seeing what had been lurking within that she’d so desperately been trying to ignore. She blamed herself for things she truly didn’t have any control over, and then couldn’t deal with how that made her feel, attempting to do the impossible and thus finding absolutely no resolve over what was emotionally crippling to endure. It was hard because she made it hard, rather than facing it rationally.

“Honey, you’re not going to lose me because of something you didn’t see coming. If we have problems, at least from my perspective, I'll be straight up and tell you. I’m big on communication,” he began, Jade cutting in.

“But what if I mess it up somehow and that doesn’t happen, and...”

“Hey, come on. You’ve gotta calm down. The only way you’re gonna mess things up is if you keep on doing this, having meltdowns because you can’t deal with everything you avoid, and then it bubbles up and you don’t have a clue how to see your way through it. You have to trust me enough to be there for you, talk to me about things, not see it as weakness. Because I think you do, don’t you?”

She couldn’t meet his eyes, Adrien knowing he was finally breaking down a wall, gentling a little as he took her hand in his again. “What Ivan did to you was not your fault. Jen OD’ing was not your fault. Thinking you could even control that for a second won’t lead you to anything good, but talking about it until you feel better, even if it isn’t to me – although I’d prefer it if you did – will lead to you to good things.”

She winced a smile, shaking her head. “How the hell you want to be with an emotional headcase like me, wow. I don’t know. I’d get out now if I were you.”

“Nope, won’t be doing that,” he spoke, hand tightening on hers, “and you can fucking stop throwing bombs at me because you don’t know how to deal with something good happening to you. Because deep down, you don’t think it’s real unless it’s a mess.”

Another brick tumbled free from the wall.

“You’re right,” she finally acquiesced, “I do that. I see myself doing it, and I try to stop myself. I think I push the self-destruct button, to stop myself from becoming hurt. Can’t trust that you’re not going anywhere when all the signs point to the fact that you are. But my fucking brain won’t let me see that!”

Yet another brick fell.

He took a deep breath, moving to crouch before her, taking her other hand in a tight grasp, too. “Do you want to know how much I’m in this for the long haul? I’d marry you right here and now if I could. You’re it for me, Jade. You’re the one. You’re right, I’m not going anywhere.”

Her mouth dropped open, her eyes softening as they rounded. “You would?”

Resting his forehead to hers, he nodded. “In a fucking heartbeat. I’m not saying that putting a ring on your finger will fix all of your stuff. That won’t be easy, either. I need you to see, though, how much I truly am here for you and intend to be for the rest of my life, because I’ve fallen so deeply in love with you. That part, loving you forever, fucking easy as hell.”

With those words, granting him the kiss he sought, her wall finally came tumbling down.

“Thank you,” she breathed when they parted, stroking his face, “for being real with me. I think I’ve gotten away with a lot I probably shouldn’t have because people think I’m scary, so don’t challenge me. You’re the first person who ever has.”

“Don’t get me wrong, I still think you’re scary, too,” he joked, kissing her again, “but I love you enough to call you on your bullshit, because I want you not to be so stressed by it. You have two panic modes, Moo. Wound tighter than a watch spring and crying uncontrollably.”

“I know, but I’m not either of those right now,” she spoke, drying her eyes.

He leaned to catch a tear with his lips, pressing a kiss to her cheek. “Maybe a little of the latter.”

“Yeah,” she chuckled, “but you just told me you wanted to marry me, and it wasn’t a proper proposal or anything, I know, but still.”

He lifted his chin a little, his smile crinkling his eyes. “Would you like it to be?” When he saw nothing but sheer delight reflecting back at him, he lowered down to one knee. “Jade Lucia Burton, you are the most incredible, beautiful, sweet natured, hilarious, amazing woman I’ve ever met. Will you do me the total honour of being my wife?”

How was this real? How had she managed to find this lovely, patient, kind, holy grail of a man, and have him love her so much that after just six months, he wanted her to be his wife? She didn’t know, but what she did know was there was only one answer to his question. “Yes, Adrien Nicholas Brody. Yes, I will marry you.” Pulling her close, they entwined happily, sharing kisses and whispers of love, the rest of the world falling away into insignificance.

“Secondary question; are you completely sure? Because I’m just a nerdy dude from Queens and you’re entirely too cool for me,” he spoke, prompting her giggles, Jade stroking his face.

“Erm, have you met the ridiculous calamity that’s me?” she cried, kissing him again. “I’m saying yes before you come to your senses!”

Their laughter grew, Adrien moving to sit back at her side. “Okay, third question. Will you marry me the day after tomorrow?”

Her eyes practically fell out of her head. “What?”

“I did just tell you I’d do it right now if we could, but you have to wait twenty-four hours after you apply for a marriage license. So, will you? Shall we do something crazy while we’re both still young enough to appreciate it?”

She could barely keep in her excited giggles. “And people call me mental!”

When they finally went to bed that morning, neither could really sleep, instead enjoying themselves with much less restful pleasures before arriving at the courthouse as soon as it opened in order to be issued with a marriage license. With that all-important piece of paper secured, everything seemed to move in a whirlwind.

They decided not to tell their loved ones until after, wanting it to be just for them, deciding they could do a blessing or similar with their family and friends there at a later date. Adrien had suits in abundance, travelling back up to his house upstate to fetch one the afternoon before, leaving Jade behind to search for something suitable to wear. She wasn’t very interested in a big, traditional dress, a very unfussy woman where her fashions were concerned.

After an unsuccessful shopping excursion, the dress she chose was actually something she’d never worn, finding it hanging at the back of her closet, still bagged and tagged. It was long, iron-grey silk designed by John Rocha, timeless and elegant.

“Well, isn’t she perfect?” she spoke fondly upon pulling the garment from its bag, seeing it had a few creases. It was nothing that a steamer and a little patience couldn’t fix. They’d managed to get in last minute at city hall the following morning, a cancellation meaning they would be married at nine twenty-five, both up and out of bed by just coming up to seven. He was ready way before her, waiting for her by the front door. When she walked out, looking so beautiful, he almost cried.

“Are you absolutely sure a total knockout like you wants to get hitched to me?” he spoke, nuzzling her nose with his, kissing her lips softly.

“Never been surer of anything in my life before.”

“Good,” he chirped, reaching into his pocket, “now you can have this.” Taking her left hand, he pushed onto it something Jade hadn’t even thought about, not even while they were shopping for wedding rings the day before, her mouth falling open. There upon her finger, he’d placed the most beautiful engagement ring she’d ever seen, a cushion cut diamond mounted on a platinum filigree band. It was a hundred percent to her taste, exactly what she would have picked herself, should he have asked her.

“When did you get this?” she cried, covering her mouth with her other hand, watching it sparkling upon her finger as she tried not to cry, save ruining the makeup she’d fussed over for an hour. “Baby, I love it so much. It’s perfect!”

“Yesterday, while you were across the other side of the jewellers looking at bracelets,” he smiled, bringing her hand to his lips and kissing her fingers. “Glad you like it.”

“I love it,” she confirmed again, leaning to kiss him. “Thank you.”

One cab ride later and they arrived just on time, checking in with the front desk, all ready to get hitched. Or so they thought.

“Will your witnesses be arriving shortly?” the lady asked them, both staring at one another with wide eyes. Shit.

“Um, oh blimey,” Jade grimaced, starting to fan herself with her hand. “I think that’s the one thing we forgot! Shit!”

“Well... I mean I could be one?” the woman suggested, turning her head back to the small admin area behind the desk. “Cece? You fancy coming to watch a couple of beautiful, famous people get married?”

The aforementioned Cece looked up from her computer, her mouth falling open. “Oh my Jesus, it’s you two!” Her surprise made them laugh, watching as she flew out from her chair. “I do, yes! Anything to help out!”

“That’s really kind of you both, thank you,” Adrien spoke, Cece looked very excited as she took them in, noticing something as she pointed at Jade.

“Hold up! You don’t have any flowers, hon. All bride’s need a bouquet. Wait, wait.” Moving across the space, she raided a vase containing a large bloom of gardenias and a lot of greenery, pulling everything out and giving them a shake to remove the excess water, a handful of tissues offered by Lauryn, the front desk lady. “Wait, wait, I have ribbon in my desk somewhere!”

After all drying and securing was done, they were ushered down to the courtroom, Jade feeling her insides fizz with excitement. It might not have been the wedding day she’d dreamed of, always saying she’d do something small and lowkey when she finally met the right man, but at least she had the latter of that perfect. Because he was.

Yes, most certainly, he is the man who will come into your life and never leave it.

Those words, spoken to her three years before by a psychic who she hadn’t put any faith in at all, they couldn’t be more accurate. After a mere ten minutes, exchanging rings and vows, they were pronounced husband and wife to the cheers and applause of Lauryn and Cece, their first kiss captured by the appointed photographer.

“Can you do something for me?” Adrien asked, holding her face in his hands.

“Anything.”

“Love me forever?”

She smiled, kissing the tip of his nose. “Always.”

Truly, she had never loved anybody more in that moment than she did her husband. They left Manhattan behind later that morning, Jade piling her bags into his car and heading up to Cleveland with him, ready to see the place she would now get to call home.

All along the journey, he kept looking to his side, beaming a smile as he laughed, taking one hand off the steering wheel and gripping her thigh. “I can’t believe it. You’re my fucking wife, Moo!”

“I really bloody am!” she replied, grinning widely. “It’ll be such a cool story to tell our grandkids one day, won’t it?”

“It will, yeah,” he confirmed. “So, how many kids do you want us to have?”

“As many as you want to give me, sexy mans. Ideally two, though. Depends how much it hurts.”

“Two sounds good.”

“But not just yet,” she was quick to follow with, “I’d like it to be just us for a few years first.”

“That makes a lot of sense, actually,” he agreed, “especially since our house is still half a damned construction site!” Their house. It made her heart flutter to hear him call it that.

He was nervous to let her see it, Stone Barn Castle still very much under construction. He’d shown her some pictures on his phone, though, of how the renovation was shaping up. “So how many rooms did you say were done, baby?”

“All the exterior is, every damned stone needed to be repointed, and the new roof is on as well,” he began. “The kitchen is done, the bathroom, our bedroom, and that’s about it. I’m sorry, I’m taking you up to your new home and it isn’t even finished!”

“Oi, stop with this,” she soothed, rubbing his arm affectionately. “I can cope! Mum and dad decided to renovate their brownstone about four months after we moved in, and it was bloody chaos for the remainder of that year. I’ll be fine, just as long as I have a place to cook and sleep. And other things that involve a bed.”

“You’ll love the bed,” he winked, his mouth upturning. “It’s fucking huge, I had it custom built, all black carved wood.”

“Are you a secret goth mans, Mr. B?” she asked in her cutely comic voice.

“Nope,” he laughed, “the bedroom is white with black wood furniture, dark floors. It needs some rugs, though.”

“I bet white sheepskin ones would look fucking cracking, innit?”

He shook his head, still laughing. “Oh, god. I married a cockney.” He waited for it; his wife not disappointing.

“I am not a fucking cockney, you cheeky wanker!” Her mild ire was delivered right on cue. “Cockneys are from east London. I’m north London massive, mate.”

“And so damned easy to get a rise out of,” he rumbled with laughter, Jade smacking his thigh. “Hey, easy on the violence, Mrs. B! I’m trying not to crash here!” He paused for a second, overtaking a slow-moving truck. “What are you going to go by now, by the way? You taking my surname, or sticking with your own?”

“I think professionally, I’ll hyphenate them, but privately just use Brody.”

He liked that, Adrien grasping her hand and bringing to his mouth, pressing a kiss to her knuckles.

They arrived after a long five hours on the road, Jade’s excitement peaking before she was even out of the car, looking all around. “Is all that land ours, too?” she cried, Adrien nodding as he pulled her bags from the back.

“It is.” Once again, he waited for it, the word he knew she’d speak. The expensive word.

“I’m so getting horses!”

Ahh, there it was. Jade had ridden since her early teens, her mother taking her for lessons at NYC Riding Academy once she and Steven had been able to afford such luxuries, her sister Rachel following her love of all things equestrian, too. She had a few of her own over at her house in England, and Rachel now owned her own stables in New Haven, looking after the horses belonging mostly to wealthy Connecticut housewives who wanted the status of horse ownership without any of the hard work.

“I’m sure we can plan out a small stable block for that,” he told her, kissing her cheek as she squeaked with excitement.

“And a chicken coop! I really want chickens!”

“Oh, god,” he groaned as she took her duffle from him and swung it over her shoulder. “You’re gonna turn this place back into a farm, aren’t you?”

“Yes!”

Well, if it made her happy.

The more immediate happiness was found at being shown around her new home, Adrien taking great pleasure in introducing her to his contractors as his wife, and then showing her upstairs where he took even greater pleasure in pulling her from her clothes, and doing exactly what was expected of newlyweds for most of the early afternoon. After acquainting her with the bed so thoroughly, they headed out again to go and buy food from the market in the village, the light beginning to fade just as they were returning.

They ate dinner out on the rear patio, Jade taking to the long grass with her wine glass in hand afterwards, looking up at the sky. In Manhattan, the many tall buildings and bright lights meant that a clear view of the night sky wasn’t always offered, the splendorous beauty of the countryside, surrounded only by forest changing that for her entirely.

Leaning back against his chest as she felt him behind her, she smiled contentedly as he kissed her cheek, pointing up to the blazing canopy above. “Sky full of stars.”

“I thought you might like that.” he murmured, kissing her again.

She loved it.

Finally, she was home.

#adrien brody fanfiction #adrien brody #adrien brody smut #adrien brody fanfic #adrien brody fic #adrien brody x ofc #sky full of stars #adrien and jade

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lexr86 · 17 days ago

Text

Cupid's Bow

Chapter 1

This story is available in full on AO3. Alternatively, I'll be posting chapters to Tumblr weekly. Chapter 2

Dammit. Sam's keys weren’t in her purse. She had checked three times, while sitting in a pile on the porch in front of her house, and they definitely weren’t there. She tried to remember what she had done with them after school yesterday. Her mind had been elsewhere after Nick had asked her out, but she remembered putting them into the bowl next to the front door like she always did when she got home. Had she picked them up this morning before leaving for school? She couldn’t remember. Dammit!

Nick had totally messed her up by asking her out. Why had he done that? Boys didn’t do that with her. She was weird. Everyone knew that. Boys didn’t ask weird girls out. Especially boys like Nick. He’d have no reason to do it. Unless... It was probably a Carrie situation. Fine, she had dodged a bucket of pig’s blood by turning him down, but he had still managed to muddle her mind for the evening. And the next day too if she had forgotten to bring her house keys with her this morning. She gritted her teeth in frustration.

She gave up on her purse and considered how to solve this problem. Long-term was easy, she would change her process. The key bowl was her parents’ process. They were the ones who kept keys in their pockets or changed bags day-to-day so they needed a place to put their keys overnight. She followed along with it because they had instructed her to do so since she was a child but she would be eighteen in two months. Nearly an adult. She should have a process of her own. She always used the same purse, so she should just leave her keys in there. She calmed a little now that one part of the solution was in place. The short-term problem was also fixable. Her mother had given a spare key to the Scotts. She would walk to their house and ask for it. There! She had a plan for both the long and the short-term. She returned her purse to her bag, tucked her oversized hardback book under her arm, and started to walk.

Unfortunately, going to the Scotts would involve talking to people. Sam had not been planning to talk to people this evening. It was the main reason that she had stayed so late in the library. She knew her parents would be out for the evening and if she got home after six thirty, there was a good chance that she could spend the night without having to have any conversations. She needed the quiet time to process what had happened with Nick. School was too busy and noisy, and her parents had insisted on a family dinner last night so she hadn’t the opportunity to really think about what his motivation might be or whether she should expect any repercussions for saying no. But her evening’s plan for trying to understand what was going on and her own feelings was shot to hell now.

It would take her twenty minutes to walk to the Scotts’ house. On the way, she practised what she would say when she got there. If it was just Gareth at home, it would be easy. He was quiet and wouldn’t ask any questions of her. “Hi Gareth. I forgot my keys this morning. Could I get the spare that my mother left with your parents, please?” she muttered under her breath. He would give her the key and she would thank him and leave. Maybe she would still have enough time to process the past day before her parents came home around ten.

On the other hand, if it was Mr and Mrs Scott, there would be more conversation required. They were friends of her parents and would ask questions of Sam about how she was doing, how school was going, whether she had plans for the weekend. She would need to be polite and interested in the conversation. It would be easiest if she could stick to school. Adults didn’t want to hear that you were spending the whole weekend doing homework and walking in the woods on your own. You were supposed to be out socialising with friends. She practised steering the conversation towards academic topics, trying to anticipate the questions they might ask based on her previous interactions with them.

As she neared the Scotts’ house, she could see lights on in multiple rooms. It looked like Mr and Mrs Scott were home so she steeled herself for a more involved conversation. She was tired and hungry, and this would take some effort but if she was prepared, she might be on her way soon. She just had to keep her goal in mind. Key, home, quiet time.

She stepped up to the front door of the house and ran her fingers over her hair to smooth it. Looking down at her sweater and jeans, she assessed herself. She looked ok. There was nothing out of the ordinary to draw attention to her. Apart from the library book. It was too big to fit in her bag with her schoolbooks, so she slipped it from under her arm and cradled it against her chest. Front cover facing inwards was safest. That way it was less likely to become a focal point for conversation. Fantasy books were not a totally weird thing for girls to read, unless you were a popular girl. Fortunately, Sam was far from popular. She took a deep breath and knocked on the door. A couple of sharp raps. Fewer and they wouldn’t hear, and she’d have to figure out the right amount of time to wait before knocking again. More and it would be weird. Be as not weird as you can be.

After a couple of seconds, she heard the sound of the lock turning, and she prepared to greet Gareth or one of his parents. The door opened and Eddie Munson was standing in front of her. Her mind completely blanked. She hadn’t prepared for this. What was he doing here? She had no script for Eddie Munson.

Her eyes flickered to his, then to his mouth that was curving into a sneer...? No, a smile. His lips parted, “Hi.” It was a soft pleasant sound like an exhalation, and his lips hugged the shape of it. She flicked her gaze to somewhere safer. The logo on his t-shirt was a demon. The edges were curved like his lips, contrasting with the sharp tips of the horns protruding from its forehead.

She realised she had been standing staring at Eddie Munson’s t-shirt for the past several seconds without saying a word, let alone acknowledging his greeting, and cursed herself silently. Pushing down the rising sense of mortification because it would do her no good, she forced her eyes back up to his face. She couldn’t make eye contact but that was fine because she could just look at his smiling mouth. People didn’t always need you to make eye contact with them. Sometimes just looking at their face or close to their eyes would do. “Hi.” She swallowed. “Um... could I speak to Mrs Scott, please? Or Mr Scott?”

Eddie turned and yelled over his shoulder, “You’ve got a visitor, Mrs S!”

A second later, Mrs Scott appeared at the kitchen doorway, a tea towel in one hand as she dried a dining plate. “Hi Samantha. Come on in. Is everything ok?”

Eddie made a sweeping gesture with his hand, indicating that Sam should step into the hallway so she did. Sam calmed a bit. Mrs Scott was nice. She still called her Samantha rather than Sam, which is what she preferred, but that was the same with everyone. It isn’t a big deal unless you make it one, as her father would say. This would be fine. She would get her script back on track and ask for the key and she would get it and go home. Just like that. Fine.

“Hi Mrs Scott.” She made the effort to smile because adults responded well to polite friendly girls. “I left my house key at home this morning and my parents are out this evening. I was wondering if I could get the spare key that my mother left with you?”

“Oh, sweetie. I’m sorry. Your mom took it back a couple of weeks ago when your aunt came to visit. She hasn’t dropped it back yet.” Sam had met Mrs Scott enough to be able to make a decent attempt at deciphering her facial expressions, and she thought that the look she was giving Sam was one of friendly concern. “What time will your parents be home?”

“Oh... Um, they should be back around ten,” Sam’s voice was barely more than a whisper. She hadn’t anticipated this either. What was she going to do now?

“Well, you’re welcome to stay here until then. The boys are just putting on a movie, aren’t you boys?” Mrs Scott looked over Sam’s shoulder.

Sam turned to find that Gareth had joined Eddie in the hallway. “Yeah, a double bill of American Werewolf in London and Evil Dead.”

“Well then…” Mrs Scott patted Sam on the shoulder, and Sam tried not to wince. People didn’t like it when you reminded them that you didn’t like to be touched. Not wanting to be touched was weird. “A bit horrific but I’m sure you have a strong stomach, Sam. Now, have you eaten?”

Sam hadn’t but she could see that the Scotts had finished dinner already. Her stomach felt hollow but if she said no, they’d have to prepare something especially for her. She didn’t want to inconvenience them. It would make her the centre of attention and she hated nothing more than that. “Yes, I did,” she said with what she hoped was a convincing smile.

“Great, let me get you a drink and you can join the movie night. Diet Coke, isn’t it?” Sam nodded and Mrs Scott turned to the fridge.

Sam caught movement out of the corner of her eye and saw Eddie bend over to look at her chest. Why was he staring at her chest? She could feel heat starting to bloom in the same area he was staring at and begged it not to rise past her neckline. Eddie leaned further forwards, bent almost ninety degrees at the waist, his eyes less than a foot from her. What was he doing?! Suddenly he looked up at her with a grin, “I read that last summer. It was great!”

What?!

He straightened up and shoved his hands into his jeans pockets, bouncing on his heels. “Better than her last novel. She had a couple of short stories in Heavy Metal that were set in the same universe too. If you like Elven, let me know and I’ll dig them up for you.” He gestured vaguely towards the book she had been hugging to her chest. The book that he had been reading the back cover of because she had the front turned in towards herself. Not checking out her chest. Checking out her library book. Of course. How stupid was she to think that a boy like Eddie Munson would be checking out her chest?

Sam nodded and Eddie disappeared down the hallway as Mrs Scott retrieved a can of Diet Coke from the back of the fridge and handed it to her. “The last cold one. I’ll pop a few more in there for you, sweetie. Just grab them whenever you want one. And tell the boys to knock it off if they start getting rowdy. You know how they can be.” She winked at Sam as if they were sharing some deep secret. Sam had no idea how boys could be. Just like girls, she guessed.

Sam whispered “Thanks” and Mrs Scott directed her to the den at the end of the hall.

She paused outside of room for a moment. Gareth and his friends hadn’t invited her to spend the evening with them, his mother had. What if they didn’t want her there? What excuse could she come up with to leave? She bit her lip and considered her options, before raising her head and consciously adjusting her posture. Maybe if she acted more confident, like she was meant to be there, she would be ok. And if they were watching movies, then she didn’t have to talk to them. She could maybe even relax a bit.

She pushed the door to the den open. The room was almost pitch black except for the fuzzy grey light coming from the TV. As her eyes adjusted, she saw Gareth kneeling in front of the TV unit, switching channels to the VCR player. Jeff was sitting on the armchair and Jim was lying on the floor, his head propped up against the base of the sofa. There was a can of soda next to the beanbag so she guessed that was Gareth’s seat. Eddie was sprawled across the sofa, but he moved his legs as he looked up at her and nodded his head towards the end of the sofa nearest the door. Ok... breathe... this is fine. You can sit and watch and zone out. She placed her bag and book out of the way against the wall and sat down on the sofa. Glancing out of the corner of her eye, she could see Eddie watching her. Had she gotten it wrong...? Did he not mean for her to sit down there?

“Is this ok?” Her voice was low. He nodded at her. Ok, she was imagining things. Constantly having to second guess yourself made it easy to do that. She popped the top on her can of soda and sipped it. Her stomach gave a weak rumble. She closed her eyes... Shut up, just shut up. She opened her eyes again and glanced around the room. No-one seemed to have noticed. But Eddie was still staring at her. She drew her legs up under her trying not to take up too much space. It was a three seater sofa so there was a seat between them but he was sprawled across half of that and she didn’t want to constrain him further. He had had the entire sofa to himself before she had joined the group and stolen half of it from him. He had indicated that it was ok but people did that sometimes. They implied or outright said things were one way and she was just supposed to magically know that they weren’t.

“I need popcorn!” Eddie hopped up from his end of the sofa suddenly.

“Fucks sakes, man. You already ate enough at dinner to feed a small village! Where the hell are you going to put popcorn?!” Jeff rolled his eyes at Eddie.

“What can I say? I’m a growing boy!” Eddie stepped over Jim.

“Salty!” Gareth shouted over his shoulder as he settled back into the beanbag.

“Guest’s choice, I reckon,” Eddie turned at the door and leaned over Sam. His lips were inches from her ear when he spoke, and she could feel his warm breath against her skin, “Sweet or salty, Sam?” She shivered.

At least the question was easy. She liked salty popcorn and that was what Gareth wanted anyway. It was his house. He shouldn’t have to put up with something he didn’t like just because she was a guest. “Salty, please.”

“Because you’re sweet enough...” Eddie’s voice was low.

What?!

“Jesus Christ, Eddie!” Jeff threw a look at him. That one was easy to decipher... disgust. She was used to that look from people in school.

Eddie raised his middle finger at Jeff and pulled the door open to the hallway before disappearing through it.

“Sorry about him.” Jeff stared at her.

“He’s a dickhead.” Gareth looked over his shoulder at her.

She wilted under the attention from the two boys. Jim was the only one who wasn’t staring at her, likely because he couldn’t see her from where he was lying on the floor. She nodded at Jeff and Gareth and dropped her head to stare at her soda can while the movie trailers played. Why had Eddie said that? It was the type of thing that people said in romance films. Flirting. Guys didn’t flirt with her. They didn’t ask her out. They didn’t stare at her chest. Her head reeled from the past day. She still didn’t know why Nick had asked her out... and now she didn’t know why Eddie was saying flirty things to her. Were they all in on something? A big joke at her expense? She could imagine that of Nick. He was one of the moderately popular boys at school. More popular than Sam anyway. But Eddie...? As far as she could tell, he hated most of the popular kids. On the other hand, she could be wrong about that. She often struggled to read people, to understand why they did things. Maybe there was a variable here that she wasn’t aware of...

As the opening credits of Evil Dead started, Eddie reappeared with a big bowl of popcorn. Jim waved his hand towards the popcorn as Eddie sat down on the far end of the sofa. Sam’s stomach clenched. The smell was delicious and she was more aware than ever that she hadn’t eaten since lunchtime. Eddie held the bowl out to her, “Ladies first.” Jim waved more animatedly. “Fuck off, Jim! You weren’t raised by wolves.” Sam took a handful of the warm popcorn and popped a few bits into her mouth as Eddie passed the bowl around to the rest of the group. Once it made its way back to him, he placed it between them on the sofa after taking a small handful for himself.

Sam tried not to devour the popcorn too quickly. It wasn’t the same as having dinner but it was filling some of the void in her stomach. She had mostly zoned out from the movie. Evil Dead was one of her favourites movies but she found the start too slow. It would pick up soon when the curse started to take effect and she could focus again on it. She finished the popcorn in her hand and glanced over at the bowl, debating whether to take another handful. It was still more than half full and the guys seem to have forgotten it was there. As she debated, Eddie nudged the bowl towards her with the back of his hand. She risked taking a look at him. He was apparently watching the movie but as she looked at him, his eyes flickered back to her.

Ohhh... She took a handful of popcorn while she reconsidered his actions. He must have heard her stomach rumbling and realised she was hungry. That was embarrassing but he hadn’t made fun of her. Had he gone to get the popcorn specifically because he knew she needed food? That was... kind. It was the type of thing that people did for friends or younger siblings. That was it! He was treating her like a little sister! Maybe Gareth’s sister since their parents were friends, even though she was a year older than him. Sam felt a little ache of disappointment in her chest, offsetting her relief at having identified the motivations for his actions and words. She ignored it. Logically, it made more sense that he viewed her like Gareth’s sister than... well, it was ridiculous to think that he could be attracted to her. There was no universe outside of her own head where Eddie Munson could be attracted to her. The ‘sweet enough’ comment was still a bit odd but she could just about imagine that it was the type of thing that someone might say to a very young sibling. As far as she was aware, Eddie was an only child like herself so maybe he just didn’t have much experience of how to treat younger sisters. She knew that she wasn’t the only person who said embarrassing things from time to time. Other people did it too and that was probably just what Eddie had done. And then Jeff had corrected him on it. It wouldn’t happen again...

Suddenly something on screen startled Jim and he let out a short scream of surprise. The other three boys jumped and swore. Jeff reached over the side of the armchair to swat at Jim's leg. “Jesus, are you trying to give us all heart attacks, you idiot?!”

Sam smiled. She hadn’t jumped. She knew this film like the back of her hand. There was nothing in it that could startle her. Eddie leaned over and whispered in her ear, “Nothing scares you, does it, Sam?”

She turned to stare at him with wide eyes. Did he not realise...? Everything scared her. Talking to people terrified her. Trying to navigate their emotions and responses exhausted her more than trying to formulate an escape plan from a hoard of zombies. A guy she had no interest in asking her out scared her so much that she had been able to concentrate on nothing else for the past day while she tried to figure out why he had done it. Until she found herself sitting on the other end of the sofa from a guy that she was interested in, who was saying and doing confusing things to her, and then that was the only thing she could think of. The thought of admitting to anyone how she felt caused her stomach to drop. She was so scared that anyone would use that to hurt her. And she’d never see it coming because she didn’t understand people like everyone else did. The part of her that should be able to see how other people would likely act in a given situation was broken, and without that she was defenceless. By comparison, horror movies were easy to navigate. They had plots and easily understood character motivations. They advertised their scary parts. Other people didn’t do that. Other people struck like unseen monsters and what Sam couldn’t see, she couldn’t defend herself from.

#fanfiction #writing #stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson x oc #fluff #autistic main character #eventual smut

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