#i really love the thought of mint who would be more awake as he finds his place and people who accept him as more than acquaintance | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

koolcece22 · 7 months ago

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It's Not Hate

this one my Short Stoies I made in AO3.

Miguel got hurt really bad during one of his missions and Rio healed him up while having a deep talk

TW: mention of Child Abuse

Having a son like Spider-Man can be anxiety-inducing. Never know when not to come home, having him drag himself back to the room all batter and bruised. But, Rio knows that the city needs her son. The city needs a Spider-man.

Rio was working at the desk of the hospital for only two more hours till her shift ended. It was a slow night. Fame last word for someone who works in a hospital. Rio got a text message from her son, she used to love getting text messages but nowhere did she pray it was not him to write his last thoughts to her. She read the message:

Mom! Please come home now! Need help!

Rio was having a mental panic attack reading this. She asked her boss if she could leave early as her son had an emergency. She drove as fast as she could back to her apartments. Once she ran upstairs as fast as she could, she busted through down waited to see her son bleeding to death.

She was surprised to see Miles, his Spider-Man outfit was damaged and he had bruising but nothing too serious well from what she could see. He was panicking and grabbed his mom and pulled her to her room.

“Miles! Are you ok?!”

“I’m fine, it's not me that hurt!” Miles said as he tried to drag his mom to her bedroom. Once she entered her room, she saw Miguel lying on her bed bleeding from his stomach or chest area. 42 was trying to compress the wound so Miguel didn’t bleed out.

“What happened?!” Rio said seeing her son’s boss bleeding on her bed. Jeff is going to have a field day when he sees this.

“What happened?!” she yelled

“We were fighting an anomaly that got away and he bombed us. Miguel shielded us from the bomb but he got injured. We can’t call HQ because Miguel is too injured to be teleported back and we're understaffed right now so no one can come.”

Rio quickly rushes to Miguel’s side to see how bad it is. The wound doesn’t look too deep but Miguel looks like he still losing blood and there are other wounds that she doesn’t know about. Miguel looks pale from the blood loss, but he looks like he is still awake just in a lot of pain.

“Este impactante duele.” Miguel cursed to himself having covered up his unmasked face with his arm. Rio sighed in relief knowing he still talking. She walked up to Miguel who didn’t notice that Rio was there.

“Miguel. What type is your blood?”

Miguel didn’t answer but His A.I. Lyla did.

“Hey! I got you. He type -O. He was not allergic to anything but mint. These body stats are-” Lyla then show Rio Miguel’s health stats. So far everything is low but not dangerous yet. But Rio been working in the medical field knows that anything can change in the blink of an eye. She then grabbed the bloody towel that 42 was using to compress.

“Miles. Both of. I need you to go to the hospital and steal two packs of that blood. Here take my key card and code #1610. It's on the third floor.” Rio said not looking at them trying to think what else she going to need. 42 nodded

“Got it. I steal it. Can’t have Spider-man be seen as a villain for stealing.” 42 said as he put on his Prowler mask. Miles puts on his as they both jump out of the window a swing as fast as they can. Leaving Miguel and Rio. Rio quickly went to the closet and pulled out some Medkits, after she found out that her son was Spider-man, stole a bunch of medical stuff to help Miles out so that if get too injured he could heal up at home no one could find out. Rio grabs some needles and some of Miguel’s hair as if she is going to snitch on him

“Miguel? Hey! Still with me papa?” Rio said hoping Miguel would not fall unconscious. Miguel looked at her with his red eyes that were glowing a bit. Something that Rio never knew about. Well, Miles and they did tell her that Miguel is like a vampire in a way. “You not getting hungry for blood right?”

“Did Miles tell you I’m a vampire didn’t he?” Miguel choked out, Rio smirked at him

“No that was Hobie.”

Miguel groaned, of course, it was him. “Esos niños”. Miguel then dissolves the arm of his outfit so he can bite down on his exposed skin. Rio’s eyes widen when he does this.

“What are you doing?!”

Miguel let go of his arm and wiped the blood from his mouth. “I change my venom to make my blood thicker so I won’t bleed out.”

“You have venom?”

“I’m…half spider.”

Rio raised her eyebrow and confessed what he meant. “Isn’t that all Spider-men?” Rio said as she readied the needle so she could close his wound. When the needle went through his skin he hissed in pain, trying not to claw Rio’s bed sheet.

“N-No, I’m more…complicated.”

Rio nodded as she continued stitching up Miguel’s wound. They sat there in silence Miguel was trying his best not to hissed in pain and give Rio contraition to stitch him. After about a like 10 minutes she was done. She made sure it was cleaned up so it wouldn’t get infected. She grabbed the blood towel and put it away and grabbed a new one and some alcohol to help with the cleaning. She cleaned the wound and Miguel hissed and both heard a tear, Miguel cursed and realized his talons ripped their sheet.

“Look like you going own me one.” Rio pouted, not liking her bed sheet got ruined.

“I’ll replace them.” Miguel sigh. “I'm sorry you have…to deal with me.” Miguel knows that Miles’s parent doesn’t like him. After the Spot incident and the fact, he was trying to get Miles’s dad killed for the canon their understanding pissed. They were more pissed founding out that Miles decide to join the spider society after the hell they put him through. Miles explained that everyone apologized to him and he didn’t want to be alone. But the main reason he just wants a watch is to see his friends.

“You know I don’t hate you.”

Miguel turns his attention back to Rio. Rio helps him sit up on the edge of the bed so she can wrap the wound up. Miguel dissolves his costume to his waist so Rio can wrap it.

“I said I don’t hate you. I might not like you, but you're still a human being and I’m a nurse, and me not like you won’t stop me from helping you.” Rio remembers the night that she and Jeff had to tell Miles that his uncle Aaron didn’t make it. Miles cried the whole night knowing how much his uncle meant to him. After, two years he was getting better, surprisingly after he started to hang with Society.

“He looks up to you. See you another Uncle to go to like that Peter guy. You guys are like a second family to him. And I be damn if my son loses another Uncle on my watch. lo, tienes?”

Miguel just stared at her, surprised by her words it caused him to choke up a bit. Wondering if it is because of the blood loss that he feels this way. She sounds like a mother that scrolling a child but not in the hurtful manner that he has gotten used to.

“You make it hard for me not to like you,” Rio said as she finished up the wrapping and helped Miguel to lay back down as she could tell he was getting dizzy from sitting upright.

“I’m sorry.” Miguel choked out, almost sounding like he was about to cry.

“Please, stop that.” rolling her eyes wondering what hit this man in the feeling. Miguel was always stoic or at least serious-spoken. That is what Miles had told her.

“Sorry, I…I never had a nice mother figure. So you talking to me as…like an actual mother. It's something new to me.” Miguel said, realizing he said it out loud. He hates that the lack of blood is making him lose common sense. Rio just says silent, Miles did mention Miguel didn’t have a great childhood. And seeing some of his old wounds that were more akin to someone who was abused. Before she can be asked how bad his past was, she hears the front door bust open. At first, she thought it was Miles and 42 was back but it wasn’t

“Rio! Miles! What going on?!” Jeff yelled from the living room. Rio forgot that during the panic rush to hear she texted her husband that Miles was in trouble. Jeff burst through the bedroom door thinking he going to see his son seriously injured but was surprised to see Miguel on the bed instead.

Miguel’s eyes widened and were glowing more red. He quickly crawled away from Rio and Jeff to the far corner of the bed, baring his fangs at them. Rio was so surprised at what Miguel was doing but one look on his face made her realize that he was afraid. She turned to her husband who also was freaking out to see a Spider-man crawling inhumanly fast. To Miguel, due to the blood loss, a vision of his step-father flashes in front of him. Remember how his father would beat him so often for just doing the small stuff.

“por favor no me hagas daño. por favor no me hagas daño,

Papá!” Miguel sobbed. Rio got between Miguel and her husband, seeing this a few times in her medical career. Too many times sadly.

“Jeff. leave the room for a moment.” Rio said calmly not wanting to freak Miguel out anymore. His talons and the look in his eyes tell her he is in ‘fight or flight’ mode. Right now it flight but in a moment it can turn into a fight and she knows her or her husband can’t take down a Spider-man.

“What?! I’m leaving you with him!” Jeff whisper

“Look, Miguel got hurt bad and he was in the right mind because of the blood loss he had, and right now you look like someone from his past who wasn’t too kind to him,” Rio said inching herself closer slowly towards Miguel that began to shake in fear. Jeff nodded that he understood and trusted his wife as he stepped out of the room and closed the door behind him. After Jeff did that Miguel was shaking less but still curled up towards that edge.

“Hey, Hey. he gone. The big scary guy is gone.” it was so weird for Rio to sat that since Miguel is taller and bigger than her husband.

“ lastimame a mi, no a mi hermano” Miguel whisper out. Causing Rio’s eyes to widen more. Miguel taking most of that for his brother. If she ever meets Miguel’s father he going to be a dead man. Rio shook her head to try to stay focused and get Miguel to calm down. She saw that Miguel was covering his mouth.

“I won’t speak Spanish again, I’m sorry.”

God, she really going to kill Miguel’s dad

“Hey! No one going to hurt you. me aseguro de eso.” Rio said as she took Miguel's arm pulled him up from the corner of the bed and lay him down, a not moment too soon Miguel almost collapsed back down on the bed. The blood loss finally caught up to him as the room was getting more dizzy.

“No…no one will hurt me?”

Rio shook her head as she pulled a blanket on him so he wouldn’t get cold. She looked at his viral sign seeing everything was still low. Hoping Miles and 42 come here soon.

“No, descansa un poco, ¿vale?”

Miguel didn’t say anything but his eyes felt heavy. He sensed no danger as he fell into deep sleep.

Miguel groaned as he tried to open his eyes. The first thing he noted when he woke up he not hurting anymore. His healing was working now and he didn’t feel so dizzy. He realized why as he saw a needle in his arm that led to an almost empty blood bag. So at least he knows that his blood was replaced so that's good. Miguel also realized he was not a HQ but in a room.

“Lyla?” Miguel said his voice so froggy from the lack of water. Lyla popped in front of him with her cheerful self.

“What you need chief?”

“How…how long have I been out?

“Three hours. You were out like a light. You look less paler now so that's good.”

Miguel rolled his eyes and was about to get up but Lyla popped in front of him fast

“Whoo, big guy. Let's not get up too fast. Here!” Lyla said as she sent a message. As she did that Miguel heard thumping heading his way. As the door burst open to saw Miles and 42 rush to his bedside.

“Miguel! You ok!” Miles said hugging Miguel who grunted in pain. He healed but he is still a bit sensitive. 42 to pull Miles away so he doesn’t hurt Miguel anymore.

“Are you two ok?” Miguel asked only able to remember something after the attack. He remember taking the blast and was trying to teleport back but was too hurt to be teleported.

“We should be the one asking you tio! Mom said you lost more blood than we thought and if you hadn’t bitten yourself you would have bled out!” Miles said trying not to freak out but failing at it. Miguel felt guilty not wanting to make the young spider worry. Miles doesn’t want to be treated like a kid but sometimes he forgets he is still young. Losing one of his closest family members doesn’t help giving the teen PTSD. Miguel also can tell he worries too, 42 just not the type to show it.

“I’m fine. Just need some water.”

“I figure much.” everyone turns to Rio at the doorways with a plate of food and some water for Miguel. “I will be guessing you be hungry. I know Miles to be when he gets hurt like that.” Rio said causing Miles to blush a bit thinking his mom said something embarrassing to Miguel. Miguel nodded took the plate from Rio and drank the water to feel more better.

“I’m sorry if I had been a bother to you.” Miguel looked at the bed and saw the sheets under him were ripped figuring he had caused them.

“Don’t mention it. You didn’t cause too much problem.” Rio said surprisingly cheerfully to Miguel who was a bit taken back from it. He looks at 42.

“Once I’m done, will head back to our earth. We bugged the Morles enough as it is.”

“That and I kept kicking Miles's ass in his videogame.”

“Hey! I was winning!” Miles said while 42 smirked. Rio laughed they were fighting like the two were twin brothers.

“You two go back and get some rest and you Miles better doing some homework, not gaming. Both of you.”

“Yes, mom.” Both Miles and 42 left the room. Leaving the two adults.

“Did I do or say anything weird to you?” he wanted to make sure he didn’t hurt Rio or anyone. He is sometimes not in the right frame of mind when he is too hurt. Rio shook her head and put her hands on his shoulder to reassure him.

“ nada que pueda manejar. Miguel.”

Miguel looks at Rio “You are a good guy, and you are doing your best.” Rio said as she took his empty plate. “Also, I like green bed sheets.”

Miguel smile.

#miguel o'hara #across the spiderverse #writing #trigger warning #miles molares #42 miles morales #rio morales #i'm starting to post my writing more here

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teaspoon-full-of-sugar · 3 years ago

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lesson

pairing: harry styles x reader

warnings: smut, masterbation, daddy mentions, heavy degradation and humiliation (lots of sluts and whores) but also some good girls !! teasing (so much teasing), orgasm denial/edging, choking, bondage, cum play (so also unprotected sex), pussy play (including spanks and cock thumping), pillow humping (for like a second), spitting, panty fucking, harry has a very dirty mind, please, only 18+ !!

word count: 6.4k

synopsis: he only has one rule, and she still can’t seem to follow it (or in which harry teaches y/n a lesson)

author’s note: hello! this took a little longer than i expected, so thank you for being patient with me! this is absolute, pure, unadulterated filth (absolutely no fluffiness about this—be proud for me) please, note the warnings and don’t read if you��re uncomfortable with anything mentioned above (that’s why i put them there :)) xx

masterlist

—

Y/N’s heart races in her ears as she scrubs at her hands, foamy soap slipping down her wrists in her haste. Harry calls for her downstairs, the front door slamming shut, shaking the house. She can’t find her voice just yet, traces of a stolen orgasm lingering in her tired body. The sheets are crumpled from her quick highs, and her legs are weak. She feels giddy, despite the odd numbness that seeps into her bones. She finally feels fulfilled after a long day of insatiable throbbing between her legs.

Clad in a simple tee and underwear, she steps out of their bathroom when he finally gets up to their bedroom. She dries her hands off, eucalyptus, mint, and other artificial scents lingering. She’s still catching her breath.

“Hey, babe,” she smiles, just like she does every time he gets back home, but there’s something behind it that’s unfamiliar, a devilish hint.

It’s her eyes that give her away.

They’ve been together long enough for him to know what she looks like after she comes, her shaky legs, dopey smile, and glazed over eyes. The mischievous glint is different, however.

“How was your—”

“How many times?”

“What?” She tilts her head to the side, brows furrowed innocently. It angers him; it actually makes his chest tight, and he has to bite his cheek to keep from snapping. She has the nerve to act as if nothing is wrong. Lip tucked between teeth, she steps forward, hands splayed in front of her. An unfamiliar feeling bubbles in his stomach. Not quite possessiveness but certainly close, this feeling is akin to lust and indignation, and it melts into a pool of gluttonous desire.

Normally, he takes a step back to collect his thoughts when he’s this emotionally invested, but it’s difficult when she looks so tempting, so divine, so satisfied. Fresh faced with a cheeky grin, she beckons him, imploring him to punish her, challenging him to ruin her.

He stalks forward, their gazes never faltering, until she falls onto the bed, still looking at him innocently.

“How many times did you make yourself come?”

His words bite, but she looks indifferent, the glazed look in her eyes taunting him. She doesn’t answer, but then again, she knows that she doesn’t need to. He cups her throat, so tender, pliable, and exposed, and he can feel her swallow thickly.

“I’ll ask again. How many times?”

She stares at him, jaw set and ready to hold her own. It’s different from her usual demeanor. No matter how bratty she would act, she easily fell into her submissive headspace, answering his questions obediently and listening to him eagerly. She doesn’t seem to want to break that easily today. Instead of her usual shy and shameful glaces at her hands, she sits up fully, looking him dead in the eyes, and grins, a twisted little smirk that makes his stomach curl and his cock grow thick. She wants to play a game, but it seems that she has forgotten that he is the one in charge. His fingers tighten around her throat, pressing into the spots beneath her jaw that leave her vision hazy.

“Only once,” she says sweetly, albeit weakly from her grip on her neck.

Lies.

He knows that.

She knows that he knows that, but maybe a part of her just wants him to piss him off.

“Don’t you dare lie to me,” he snaps. “How many times?”

His patience is wearing thin, and this game, this teasing, is getting out of hand. She thinks that she can have an advantage over him, while still playing the submissive. Someone needs to put her in her place.

“Almost three times,” she admits finally, sinking back. He finally lets go of her neck, and she holds the spot where his hand once was, vexing eyes yearning for his touch. He cocks a brow.

“Almost? Did I interrupt the third?”

“Yes,” she whines. That’s when he notices her thighs pressing tight together, and she shifts on the bed.

“Does daddy not please you, babylove? You need to touch your princess parts because daddy doesn’t make you feel good anymore.”

Filled with hurt, his words seem to get to her. The familiar docile look in her eyes slips in, and her lips sink into a pout. She’s drinking from the palm of his hand.

“Maybe I just shouldn’t touch you anymore—”

“No,” she cries, sinking further into her headspace. “But—daddy, you left this morning,” she says, her lips pouting.

That’s true.

The night before, she was his soft babylove, who just wanted to be as close to him as possible, be held and comforted and loved. That’s how he awoke this morning: warm with his cock soft inside her. He kissed her awake, as she deserved, and even though he felt comfortable simply being wrapped in her warmth, he needed to taste her. He was slow with his movements, languidly licking along her lips until wetness coated her thighs, teasingly sucking on her clit until she was trembling, wanting to build up the pleasure.

Admittedly, he had to rush out before she could finish and go to a meeting regarding his upcoming tour. He had quite the time trying to hide his semi for the better part of the morning.

“And I was feeling achy,” she continues rambling; the poor thing is close to tears. He feels for his pretty girl, he truly does, but he pushes that aside. A part of him feels hurt, like she couldn’t trust him to take care of her when he came home. Harry doesn’t ask much. She can be as bratty as she wants to, purposefully teasing him when they’re in public or refusing to do the simplest of requests, but he just asks that she let him take care of her.

She couldn’t even give him that courtesy.

“Don’t make excuses,” he scoffs. “I thought you were a big girl.”

“I am,” she promises.

“Big girls wait for daddy to come home and help them come,” he says, stroking her cheek. Tender touches mask his true intent. He suddenly shoves her back, hand tight to her throat once again, and she gasps, head tilting back into their pillows.

“Naughty girls touch themselves. Whores come almost three times at their own hand.” He grits his teeth. “Are you a whore?”

She doesn’t answer, but he can feel her heart racing beneath his grasp. A glimpse of a smile is enough to let him know that she’s fine; she’s enjoying herself, seeing him so riled up, possessive, and ravenous.

“Are you still wet? Achy?”

She nods.

“Whores get wet when they’re in trouble,” he says offhandedly. Her body quivers at the malice dripping from his tongue. “Arms up.”

She does as told, holding onto the headboard, eagerly awaiting his next demand. This is what she wanted, after all.

She has no idea what’s coming.

Usually, whatever punishment he gives her is what she also enjoys, from the occasional spanking to overstimulation. He usually has her coming until she can’t take anymore, until an ache seeps into the bliss.

Not this time.

He tugs her shirt up and over her head while his other hand fiddles in their bedside drawer. Moments later, a pair of silk scarves tie her hands to the headboard.

“Not too tight?”

She tugs on the restraints and shakes her head.

“Color?”

“Green.” She beams, breaking character for a moment.

Even if they were in the midst of a deep fantasy, he has always made a point to make sure she knows that it's alright to voice any discomfort and vice-versa; she often asks for his color whenever he seems to be overwhelmed. They both know how volatile headspaces can be, with the slightest changes making a huge difference in the experience.

He runs his nose along hers, lips tracing along the curves of her face, nibbling teasingly at her chin, down her neck, and grinds himself against her. He sucks on her breasts, biting at her nipples until they’re peaked. She closes her eyes, savoring every spike of bitter pleasure he has to offer. He sits back after a moment, appreciating the glimpse of light that catches her wet skin. He palms himself.

“It’s only fair that I get to come three times since you did. Make us even, right, lovie?”

“But I only made myself come twice.”

Y/N really has the nerve to talk back to him with her hands tied to the headboard, her body exposed to him, the only thing covering her modesty a flimsy pair of underwear. He cocks his head to the side.

“Should we make it four?”

That makes her hesitate, sinking back in the sheets. She shakes her head, cute pouty lips puckering. He would love nothing more than to run his cock along that pretty, dirty mouth, to feel her greedy tongue tracing the underside of him lazily, to wrap his hand around her throat and feel it expand as he fucks her face.

But he knows that she would enjoy it too much.

Too much for a punishment.

Harry traces along the curves of her features, from the slope of her nose to the round of her cheek, soft and lingering, a harsh contrast of what’s to come. He smirks. She parts her lips like a good girl when his thumb passes over them, biting it teasingly. He, then, drags it down her chin, leaving a trail of wetness in its wake.

He can’t help but think about how pretty she would look with cum and spit dribbling from those sinful lips, eyes barely able to stay open. Fucked beyond belief, she would moan his name and other incoherent thoughts oh-so sweetly, her voice wrecked. His grateful babylove, his lovely, satiated Y/N would whisper a soft thank you after taking him so well. He truly wishes he could do that, give her anything she ever desired, make her feel euphoria like never before, a high no one other than him can give her, but she was greedy and naughty and misbehaving.

And she needs to learn a lesson.

Now, he has to tease her, to bring her to the brink of orgasm, only to shatter her, again and again, until she’s on the brink of tears. She’s going to be left unsatisfied, trembling beneath him, while he brings himself to orgasm, again and again, until he’s milked himself dry. She will be grateful if he gives her even a bit of pleasure, but it is not enough to push her to the end.

It would never be enough.

He leans in close, his lips a fleeting embrace, just past her reach. He wants to taste her, but he needs to be patient.

A warmth buries her, and his overwhelmingly familiar scent swallows her, safe and comforting. She doesn’t know she’s even pulling on her restraints until her fingers are numb and tingly, yearning to feel his skin.

Maybe this was a bad idea, but it’s too late to turn back now.

“You can beg and plead all you want,” he says, “but know this: you will not be coming again tonight.”

Her eyes darken, and a satisfied little grin graces her pretty face.

She got what she wanted, tied up and vulnerable to him.

However, this isn’t her game anymore.

Now, she’s at his utter mercy.

“And if you do come, somehow, I will not touch you for a week; not only will you not feel my cock, my fingers, or my tongue, there will be no kisses or cuddles. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

“There’s my good girl.”

He unbuttons his shirt, slowly, diligently, his fingers lingering a little long on his inked stomach, knowing that she likes to take her time and admire that part specifically. After he peels the button up away, he finally sits next to her on the bed, his back to her. His belt falls to the floor with a clatter, and she holds her breath.

The silence is deafening, thick with tension. She waits, knowing that patience will help her. She also knows better than to say anything, since it would probably worsen her current predicament. Harry has always been level-headed, even in his dominant headspace, being very patient, especially in trying circumstances. He can take a lot before he snaps. She usually has to beg him to slap her, to spit in her mouth, or to fuck her so hard her legs give out.

This new persona is unpredictable, new, and alluring.

It’s different and all the more arousing.

She shifts, the bed frame creaking. A feeling of naughtiness courses through her, as it did earlier. She wants to see how much she can get away with and how far she can go before he loses control and puts her in her place. She watches him closely, her breathing ragged. She drags a pillow up by her feet, and Harry pays her no mind, perhaps assuming she’s just getting comfortable. His shoulders shift as he nimbly undoes the buttons to his pants, his back muscles tightening and relaxing. He begins taking off his pants, billowy and undoubtedly expensive fabric slipping down one leg at a time slowly, meticulously. The pillow now nestled between her legs, she grinds her hips down, wishing it was his thigh, the one with tiger on it, bared teeth and hungry.

He turns suddenly, and she’s caught yet again, but she doesn’t stop. Instead, she works herself harder, imploring him to stop her—to punish her. The pillow does very little to satiate the pent up tension between her legs, but it’s better than nothing.

Honestly, she knew he was going to catch her in her lies. That's why she made herself come right before he got home. She wants to get caught, the thrill of going against his rules giving her a high she’s still coming down from. And as he looks at her again, fury in his eyes, she could just fall apart. She wants him to put her in her place, punish her for being a naughty, filthy brat.

She wants him to ruin her.

“No,” he growls, ripping the pillow away and effectively knocking her legs back apart. He slaps her pussy with little warning. She squeaks, tugging at the silken restraints. A shaky, guttural moan shutters from her chest, deep and desperate, and her head falls back into the mattress.

“Fuck,” she cries.

The skin of her swollen pussy burns in the most addicting way, leaving her legs spasming, feet slipping down the sheets. She can feel his rings through her panties, just a slight sting, but her clit takes a brunt of the force, and perhaps, that’s what makes it so good.

“No moving.”

He rubs her soothingly, a stark contrast to the fire behind his eyes. Despite how bratty she’s been, her sweet, attentive Harry is still there, making sure she’s taken care of, comfortable, and safe. Her needy hips chase his fingers, a broken plea on the tip of her tongue.

Again.

He twists her panties with his index finger until her puffy pussy swallows them, the swell of her mound bulging from the tight elastic bands. He smacks her again, a little more gentle this time, but hard enough to still make her toes curl. She laughs through a breathy moan, her heart racing. He tsks, mumbling under his breath.

“This is your punishment. You’re not supposed to be enjoying it.” He tugs her panties up tight to her clit. “You’ll take anything I give you. Won’t you? I could spit on you and call you a bitch, and you’ll say thank you. Right, babylove?”

He delivers another resounding slap to her cunt, and then, another for good measure. This time, her back arches from the mattress, eyes rolling back. Fire licks her skin, and it hurts, no doubt, but in such a way that's indescribable; it burns, but it spreads throughout her whole body, and it makes her limbs tingly and warm, yearning for more. Again, he runs his hand along her exposed mound to ease the ache.

“Thank you,” she moans, and he smiles. He spanks her poor pussy raw, again and again, until his hand hurts and her arousal drips onto the sheets. Her thighs threaten to close, but she digs her feet into the mattress, aching for more pain, more pleasure, just more. Her world spins, but at the center of it all is him—striking eyes, teasing smile, and pretty lips—and he’s all hers.

“Taking it so well, pretty girl,” he says, moving to kneel between her spread legs. He can feel the wetness through her panties, and he nudges his head around where her clit is, still blocked by her useless underwear, her pussy visibly tightens with anticipation. He leans back, still close enough to feel the heat from her, and he slips his cock under her panties, the tight, elastic band pulling at his tender skin while her lips massage the underside. She’s wet, perhaps from her orgasms from earlier, but likely from the spanking. He thrusts, wrapped in soaked panties, until the tip of his cock nudges the fabric at the top of her mound, and he twitches when the underwear pulls at the sensitive head in a certain way.

“Such a naughty girl,” he moans, thumbs pulling at the fabric to wrap tighter around his cock. “I’m only fucking your panties, and you’re already soaked.”

He pulls out reluctantly, his cock heavy on her wet underwear. He spits on the fabric and spreads it over her mound, just to tease her little more. She tugs at her restraints and whines from the sudden cold.

A drop of saliva slips past his puckered lips, landing on his open palm, which now cradles his cock. He hasn’t resorted to jerking himself off in a long time; he hasn’t needed to, but he works himself easily, finding a calculated rhythm, fast then slow, quick, eager strokes along the head then long, languid strokes along the entire length. He sits on his heels, and his legs ache from the weight. Her thighs twitch, and she pulls at the restraints. His balls brush against her mound with every movement of his hand, and he swears he can feel her jump with every movement, so sensitive, so responsive. He fucks his fist, hips unconsciously bucking, wishing it is her warmth that coats him, squeezes him, and pulls him in. He yearns to touch her, to feel her smooth skin, but he knows that this lack of physical touch is as difficult for her to bear as it is for him, and that makes it a little better.

Her chest heaves with unsteady breaths, eyes fixated on his hand working his cock. She pulls futilely at the scarves, until her wrists hurt. She knows that she’s not going to be able to get out, but she unconsciously reaches for him. She’s not used to being so exposed, body vulnerable to his gaze, without having him touch her. Sure, their thighs are pressed tight together, but it’s not nearly enough.

This isn’t what she thought was going to happen when she broke his rules. Truly, more so than usual, this is a punishment: to see him work himself to orgasm without being able to touch him. She wishes she was the one to make him squirm, moan, and come.

“Please,” she whines, eyes pleading with him, and he knows what she’s begging for.

“What? You think I want to touch a dirty little brat like you?”

“You’re being mean.”

“I’m being mean? I came home, hoping to spend a nice evening with my good girl, only to find out that she broke my rule,” he says. “My one rule.”

He wishes it was her hand stroking him, eager eyes and tempting smile staring back at him. It would feel so much better than his own calloused fist. He feels himself tighten to signal an impending end, weak but an end nonetheless.

“I wanted nothing more than to come home and to have you come on my tongue more times than you can count, but you couldn’t be patient, and now, you have to take your punishment.”

She twists and squirms beneath him, her body undulating on the sheets. The need that tugs on her features is almost enough to break him, to make him give in and make his pretty girl come on his face, but then he remembers that scheming smile she had on her face, that devious look that made him rife with lust. He remembers that she was on this very bed by herself just before he got home, making herself come, her head thrown back, whining and whimpering. The thought brings the fire back.

He cups her cheek and leans forward, stretching her legs apart, and his cock rests just above her belly button, still cupped in his hand. Her tongue dips out of her mouth. His eager, naughty girl waits for him to spit in her mouth, to shove his ringed fingers down her throat, to do anything, but he pulls back again, and she frowns.

“How did you do it? Did you use your fingers, baby?”

She nods pitifully, and he hums, his strokes quick.

“Yeah? Bet they weren’t as good as mine.” He runs his thumb along the head, pleasure sending chills down his spine, trying to prolong his buildup.

“No one’s fingers will ever be as good as mine.”

He wants to prove it to her, to pound his fingers inside her until she can barely breathe, arousal gushing down his wrist as she comes until she’s crying. He wants to kiss her tears away as she begs for more. Perhaps, with all the teasing and build-up, he could get her to come with just one finger with one well-placed thrust. Her hips buck, and he knows that she’s thinking about that, too. After the stolen orgasm from earlier and the burning spanks her poor pussy received, she must be desperate for anything he’ll give to her.

His orgasm builds quickly, with his thoughts running amuck, visions of her, on her knees before him, choking on him until tears stream down her cheeks, on her back, moaning while he pounds into her, on top of him, grinding down on him, not letting up because she just loves the feeling of him deep inside her belly.

He comes on her tummy, a broken moan slipping past his bitten lips, spurts of his seed stain her pretty skin, and her breath hitches, shocked at the sudden warmth; then, she hums contentedly.

“There,” he sighs, admiring his work.

“Thought you were gonna come three times,” she says softly as he steps off the bed, sore cock heavy between his legs. His knees tremble.

“Open,” he coos, slipping his fingers in her mouth, and she sucks away the remnants of his orgasm. He smooths out her brow with his free hand, brushing away a bead of sweat that sunk from her hairline.

“Who said I’m done with you? No, I’m gonna go shower, and you’re going to stay there with my cum on your tummy and think about what you’ve done.”

He kisses her nose, just like he does every morning after loving on her. It’s a sweet gesture, one that doesn’t match his demeanor. He leaves her there, like he said he would, tied up as he moves to the bathroom, shoulders pushed back, self-assured and composed. Harry steps into the steaming shower, washing away the sweat from his skin.

Y/N whimpers in the next room. She has given up on tugging at the silk scarves; instead, she’s trying to ignore the insatiable throbbing between her legs, her arousal slipping out onto her thighs, like a greedy slut. His words ring in her ears, and it makes the arousal worsen.

She rubs her thighs together to alleviate some pressure, but it’s little use. Perhaps, if she tests him just a little more, he’ll throw away all willpower and ravish her until the early morning hours, but her resolve weakens with every passing minute. She wanted to tease him a bit, maybe get him a little mad, so he would put her in her place. She wanted him to fuck her to oblivion, until she can’t keep her eyes open.

This is a different kind of punishment, one she’s never even considered. In her fantasies, she’s tied up and vulnerable, but he lavishes her with touch until she’s overstimulated, drunk on him, his scent, his touch, his voice.

This is a different kind of punishment, a true punishment in her eyes. The teasing, lingering touches is enough to make her burst, and to have him there but just beyond her reach is near painful.

His cum has nearly dried on her belly, and she wishes he came inside her, stuffed full of his warmth; at least, then, she wouldn’t be so cold, so exposed.

She perks when he steps out of the bathroom, and he wastes no time straddling her hips, his cock twitching against her tummy. The weight of his body on hers is suffocating, her overstimulated senses taking him in, his warmth, his touch, his scent. She can feel every ridge of his body, every drop of water that slips from his clean skin, everything.

It’s almost too much all at once.

“Color?”

She blinks.

“Daddy, please,” she whispers, “want you to fill me up. ‘M such a greedy cock slut. I won’t even come, promise—”

“Y/N, I need you to tell me what color,” he says.

He doesn’t usually use her name when they’re this far into the fantasy, but it seems she needs it now.

“Green,” she breathes out. “Green, green, you feel so good, H. ‘M sorry I touched myself; I just couldn’t help it. Wanna make you feel good, please.”

“I wanna believe you, baby.” He cups her cheek, cold water dripping from his hair and melting into her skin. He takes her in, relishing in the sight of her craving, trembling, and begging for his touch. He likes seeing her on edge like this, dangerously close to teetering off into oblivion.

“But I don’t think it’s really sunk in yet.”

He traces the head of his red cock along the seams of her panties, like he did earlier, but this time, he tugs her underwear aside, mouth watering at the sight of her pretty, puffy pussy, surely sore from the spanking earlier. He spits on her, and he watches as it slips down into her most intimate fold. She’s so responsive to the slightest touch. He spreads her open, lips parted to reveal her wanton pussy. He tugs back the hood of her button, hard and throbbing.

He slaps his cock against her clit, the skin tacky with his spit. The slight, sudden touch is electrifying, and it makes his cock twitch, hungry for more. He can see her tighten up, and her hips jolt. Shivers trail from her spine to the tips of her peaked nipples. He thumps the head of his cock on her clit quickly, concurrent with every keen thrust of her hips, spitting in her every so often, leaving her wet and swollen and filthy, just like she is.

“Thank you,” she whimpers. “Feels so good, daddy.”

He teases the head of his cock just past her lips and nestles himself inside her finally, her warmth swallowing him easily. His eyes flutter closed, savoring what he so desperately needed.

She breathes out sharply when he stops with just the head inside her. This teasing is almost becoming too much.

“More,” she whimpers, “Please?”

He looks at her with fire in his eyes.

“No, you don’t tell me what to do. Besides, I don’t think you deserve my cock.”

She could almost cry. He’s so close, but he won’t go any further, just teasing her with what could have been. She tries to pull him in deeper, her walls tightening around his head. It makes his toes curl, burning pleasure forming in his belly. She tries to pull him in, aching for just a little more. He holds her hips down to keep her from moving.

“Please, I’ve been good. I said I was sorry for making myself come. I’ll never do it again, promise. Please, I just wanna feel you, daddy. That’s all I wanted today.”

“This isn’t about you anymore, babylove. You’re just daddy’s little fucktoy, my little cock slut.” He thrusts slightly, the tender head dragging along her tight opening, never pushing further. “And right now, I wanna hear you cry for my cock.”

Her feet trail up his legs, knees hooked at his hips, frantically trying to pull him in entirely. She tried to be good; she asked him nicely to just fuck her already. At this point, she doesn’t even want to come. She just wants to feel him, to alleviate at least some of the pressure throbbing between her legs. It’s humiliating because she’s near tears, desperate for his cock.

He came not even fifteen minutes ago, and he’s still sensitive. He pulls back until the head is nestled just past her entrance, muscles tight around the tip. He jerks off the base of his cock for more stimulation. A part of the pleasure comes from watching her squirm; she’s so desperate as she yanks at her restraints, hips thrusting and pussy clenching to pull him in deeper. It’s such an odd sensation, her entrance being fairly sensitive, but it’s not enough to stimulate her.

It’s never enough.

“Maybe you’ll come just by the feeling of my cum inside you.”

She honestly might.

The skin of his cock drags back and forth along her sensitive walls as he jerks himself off inside her.

“I bet you will,” he grins. “Just remember, if you come, I will not touch you for a week. Be very careful, Y/N.”

She wiggles pitifully, her arousal dripping down his shaft, and he uses it as lubricant.

“I bet your poor little clit is throbbing,” he teases. “‘M so sorry, babylove.”

He’s not.

There’s a wicked smile that splits his face.

He pulls out suddenly, making her gasp, and thumps his cock some more on her pussy, landing a particularly rough blow to the sensitive part of her exposed clit, puffy with arousal, the hood stretched back.

“Please, daddy,” she whimpers, “more. I’ve been good. I won’t do it again.”

He gives her some more, dragging himself along her fold in languid motions, circling around her clit before he thumps his cock on her pretty little button. She squeaks.

He stuffs himself inside again, just like before with only the head inside her. She groans, tightening up. It’s as if her body has a mind of its own, clenched and frenzied for any type of stimulation. She squeezes him so tightly, and she fights against his hold on her hips.

He comes shortly after, his body curling into itself like it usually does when he has a particularly strong orgasm, back arching with every wave.

Y/N moans when his cum fills her, reaching deep inside her, and her walls clench with need. It’s barely anything, but it’s still more than what he was giving to her before, and she could honestly come from that little bit alone. She’s trying to regain her composure, cunt still throbbing. He kisses her face, like he usually does after he comes, a gentle reminder that he’s still her Harry. He massages her waist, lingering down to her hips. They bask in each others’ warmth, trying to find the energy to move.

That’s normal for him, sweet and mushy and loving.

What she doesn’t expect is him tightening his hold on her hips and thrusting himself fully inside her, his cock still weeping out remnants of his orgasm.

She would scream if she could, but the breath is knocked from her lungs, choked moans passing through clenched teeth. Animalistic and brutal, Harry sets a quick pace, her entire body moving with the power behind his thrusts. Her mind is blank, and her body hums, pleasurable vibrations coursing through her body to every single nerve. She forgets that she isn’t allowed to come, but she couldn’t bring herself to care about the consequences just yet. Finally, she can taste the bittersweet euphoria, making her world dizzy as he fills her again and again. She could almost cry with utter relief.

Yes, yes, this is what she wanted—no, needed—and it’s even better than she dreamt. Her sopping pussy takes him easily, reaching the neediest part of her. She spreads herself further, angling her knees to her chest so he can pound himself deeper inside, cream dripping onto the sheets. Her legs are sticky with their shared arousal.

Harry’s face is flushed, brows furrowed as he loses himself in the feel of her. It’s been almost as torturous for him as it has for her; he doesn’t think he’s ever felt this frantic, never has he felt so desperate to plunge himself into her depths, never has he been so entranced, so sensitive to any touch. His head tips back, features twisted, chest bared, and teeth gritted. His breaths are weak, faltering and shallow. He groans as she tightens around him. Sweat drips down his chest.

“H? Color?”

It takes a moment to pull him back.

“Green, baby,” he says, smiling ever so slightly.

He’s never felt this before, this vulnerable yet powerful, on the verge of pleasure and pain, dancing along a tightrope threatening to snap at any second, such a thrill. He feels light headed, high off of her. He wants to feel her, embrace her, love her.

He rips at the knots around her wrists, fingers trembling, but they won’t budge, and he loses his balance, instead wrapping his arms around her arched back. He nestles his nose in her neck, pulling their chests tight together. She smells of salt and sin and sex, and he can’t control himself.

“So fucking good.”

He presses himself deeper, the head of his sensitive cock nudging the inmost parts of her. He fucks her easily with his cum spilling out with every hard thrust, leaving their connected bodies sticky. He can’t pull out much without his cock weeping with overstimulation, but he can’t stop, the pleasure all too addicting.

“Jus’ one more, lovie,” he whispers. “So close. Don’t you dare come.” He grits his teeth, rubbing at her swollen clit, subtly and just to make it throb, before his hands rest on her lower belly, thumbs connecting just below the button. He fucks into her harder, the bed frame shaking and smacking into the wall.

That’s when realization hits her.

She’s close.

She’s so close, one well placed thrust, one harsh stroke to her clit will push her over the edge.

But she has to hold it off.

His words ring in her ears in time with her racing heart, his threat of no intimacy sobering her. If she thought before was punishment, having to see him pleasure himself without being able to touch him, this is hell. Her orgasm burns painfully in her belly. It tastes so sweet. She clings to the silk restraints. She doesn’t want to give in, but it would feel so good; it would be a high that would leave her lightheaded for hours afterward, and shockwaves of pleasure tightening her muscles as a constant reminder.

She sobs, on the brink of breaking. Her hands tingle, drained of blood. She’s trying to relax, to breathe through the waves of euphoria that crash over her, and it works for a second, but with that, she opens up more, taking him deeper and more easily. That’s when the pleasure would shatter the calm in harsh waves. She closes her eyes, a drawn hum seeping from her chest. He grabs the back of her neck, using it as leverage as he fucks himself deeper into her, and she cries out.

“Look at me,” he demands. She does, barely, her teary eyes glimmering. He smiles, and she feels warm. “There’s my pretty girl. I’m almost there, just a little bit more. Doing so well for me babylove. Don’t come.”

“Please,” she moans, peering through her lashes. “Come for me, daddy.”

She lights a fire in his veins, sending a rippling feeling of ecstasy through his spine. His eyes roll back as he comes once again, his prick pulsating as he empties himself deep inside for a third and final time. Satiated, he grinds his hips against her, wanting to be as close to her as possible. She’s throbbing around him, legs trembling at his sides. She sighs, most likely out of relief but perhaps also out of frustration. As he nestles himself deeper, her lips tremble, features pinching as she tries to hold off an orgasm, clenching so tightly that his softening cock slips out of her. She moans.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, pressing his lips sweetly to her sticky forehead. “You did so well for me, babylove. So proud of you.” Then again to her cheek. He traces up the backs of her thighs, hooking her legs around his waist.

“What did we learn?”

“Don’t touch yourself unless daddy says so,” she whispers, her voice dry. He nods appreciatively, eyes taking in her trembling form, and leans back.

Her thighs twitch occasionally at his sides, and he wants to bite them, skin surely sensitive to the slightest of touches. Sweat and cum and saliva paint her flesh, but the absolute masterpiece is her ruined pussy, swollen and wet and divine. He thumbs at her, gently guiding her lips apart to expose her pink inside, quivering with an insatiable need. He wants to lick up the cum that slips out of her, but she’s been through enough, the aftershocks of her stolen orgasms still visibly lingering in her sore body.

Another time, perhaps.

“That’s right, babylove. I think you finally learned your lesson.”

—

#enjoy nasties #harry styles imagine #harry styles x reader #harry styles smut #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfiction #ellie writes #ellie writes smut #ellie writes filth #never knew i would have to make a tag like that but #here we are #gif not mine #credit to owner

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fruitcoops · 3 years ago

Note

Sometimes I forget that Leo is 19 and can’t drink in the states. I think he would get away with stealing drinks from the boys or having someone on the team order for him in public for a while but once the season’s started and people are actively watching the games, the bartenders and wait staff start to figure out who he is and catch him being sneaky

I only write drunkenness on a case-to-case basis because it squicks me out sometimes, but something about this ask really stuck with me. To @lalalasocks, I hope your sinuses feel better! Have some outside perspective of Coops to soothe the soul <3 SW credit goes to @lumosinlove!

TW for a drunken rookie (no explicit alcohol)

“Pots and I are going to take it up the left,” Sirius said, never taking his eyes off his whiteboard as he drew out the lines of the play. iPads were generally the more conventional tool, but he had a thing for tradition and Sirius Black’s flair for the dramatic never ceased to amaze. “Knutty?”

Leo nodded and leaned forward, swiping a drop of sweat off his temple with a glance toward the game as Talker flew past. “I’ll be in for the rest of the period as soon as Coach calls it.”

“Bien.” He tapped Remus’ shoulder pad with the end of his pen and marked a path up the other side. “Loops, the puck is coming to you fast, so you need to keep eyes on us. Once you get it, turn on the jets and get it in. Good?”

“Good,” Remus confirmed, bumping fists with James. Leo watched them with no small amount of surprise—even though Remus had only been a player for six months, their line was rock-solid. James was the powerhouse while Remus flashed down the ice; Sirius counterbalanced them both in the middle. He was grateful he wasn’t the one to see them coming at him on plays.

“1, 6, 7, 12!” Coach barked. Leo clenched his teeth around his mouthguard and got ready to hop the boards. A swish of skates, a bump of Kasey’s shoulder, and it was game time.

-----------

“I love you,” Leo hiccupped, plopping himself down in Logan’s lap and tangling a hand in his dark curls. He went to kiss his cheek, then frowned. “Oh.”

“Hi,” Sirius laughed with a gentle pat his side. “Good night so far, Knutty?”

Leo made a face. “Where’s my Canadian?”

“I have no idea.”

His lip slid out even further into a pout. “He told me I could sit on his lap,” he whined plaintively, resting his head in the crook of Sirius’ shoulder with a heavy sigh. The bar was warm—a little too warm, actually—but it felt nice to be sitting on something soft rather than feeling the sticky floor under his sneakers. And there was one more reason he needed to find Logan, one other highly important thing… “An’ I gotta give him a kiss.”

“Do you want to go look for him?”

Leo made a noncommittal noise and swung his leg under the table absently, letting the alcohol in his system lift all his post-game tiredness away. His head hurt a little from being awake so long. “How ‘bout I stay here and wait?”

“I think it’s about time to get you home.”

Leo sighed again, picking at a string on the knee of his ripped jeans. “Am I squishing you?”

“Non.”

“Mmkay.” A bright square of light half blinded him and he squinted. “Who’re you texting?”

“Finn.”

“Why?”

“So that he can pick you up and get you home before you fall asleep on me,” Sirius said, quite amused for some reason. “Comfy, rookie?”

He shifted even closer into the warmth and closed his eyes. Usually he got horny when he drank, but that feeling had already passed and a nap was sounding awful nice. “I like it when you call me that. Hate when other people do it, but it’s different with you.”

Sirius gave his upper arm a light squeeze. “Glad to hear it.”

“Used to drive me nuts,” he snorted. “Those first couple’a weeks on the team were rough.”

“…why?”

“Cause I had a huge crush on you.”

Cozy silence fell between them until Sirius moved to look at him. Leo blinked sleepily. “You what?”

“Well, Kasey was my first crush, right? I had his jersey an’ his poster an’ he’s fucking hot, but you’re the captain.” Sirius was so nice to him. Not everyone would have let a 6’4” hockey player sit on their lap and wait for their boyfriends. At the moment, though, Sirius looked a bit like Leo had thrown ice water in his face. “And obviouslyFinn and Logan are my boys and I love them so much and they were sopretty when I met them but, y’know, it’s the thrill of the captain vibe.”

“Am I interrupting something?” a new voice asked through poorly-suppressed laughter.

Leo turned his head to look up with a smile. “Hey, Loops, how’re you?”

“Pretty good.” Remus shared a look with Sirius, grinning, before taking the seat next to them. “You two look…content.”

“Oh, fuck off,” Sirius said immediately, though Leo felt his chest hitch with a laugh; he tapped Leo lightly on the elbow a moment later. “Finn’s heading over, d’accord?”

“But I just got here,” he mumbled.

“You’re in my spot,” Remus teased, sliding a glass over. “Drink up, bud.”

Leo narrowed his eyes. “What is it?”

“Water.”

He thought for a second—he wasn’t thirsty, but his mouth was getting dry—and yawned, sitting up enough to stretch before grabbing it. In two gulps, it was gone. “Aw.”

Remus bit his lip and passed a different glass over. “You can have mine too, it’s okay.”

“How are both of you so nice?” he asked, looking between them in something like distress. The music was getting too loud, but they were both watching him intently. “It’s not even fair, man. Can’t you just be an asshole for once so the rest of us don’t look bad?”

Sirius shook his head and pressed the water cup into his hand. “Been there, done that. Do not recommend. Besides, the designated drivers don’t get to be mean.”

Leo felt a little better once the water was gone; he blinked slowly, scanning the crowds for any signs of Finn’s hair or Logan’s ass. Both were identifying features he would never get tired of. “Loops?”

“Yeah?”

“Why is your hair soft?”

“I—” He tilted his head to the side in confusion. “Have you ever touched my hair?”

He leaned back against Sirius, stretching his legs out until his knees popped. “No, but it looks soft. Like Finn’s, if Finn was blonder and had curls. Fluffy.”

“It’s very fluffy,” Sirius confirmed, pulling him up a little more.

“Hey!” Leo protested. “Watch the hands, your boyfriend is right there!”

Sirius rolled his eyes with a huff. “I was making sure you didn’t slide off the bench.”

“Sure,” Leo said with a suspicious glare. “Just ‘cause I won MVP for this game—”

“Okay,” Sirius groaned, standing and detangling his limbs to transfer Leo’s weight onto Remus. “I’m going to go get your boyfriends from wherever they got distracted, and then you’re going to go home and sleep so you’re not dying at practice tomorrow. Oui?”

He disappeared into the mass of people without giving Leo time to respond, wiping his hands on the thighs of his jeans as he craned his neck to see over people’s heads. “Rude,” Leo sulked, cuddling up into Remus’ side instead.

“I know, right?” He took a sip of something lemony and Leo pulled a face. “What?”

“Aren’t you DD?”

“Last I checked, DD’s are allowed to drink lemonade,” he laughed, patting the top of his head. “That was an awesome save in the third, by the way. You could’ve got the hat from that one alone.”

“Which one?” Leo yawned again, licking his lips to rid them of the stickiness he could feel forming.

“The splits one.”

“Mmm, yeah, that was pretty badass.” More people darkened his periphery and he scooted over to make room. “Hey, mes amours.”

“I hear you were bothering our dear captain?” Finn asked, kissing his cheek with a grin. There was no alcohol on his breath, only the mint from the peppermint candies he always stole from the little container by the bar. “Come on, baby, time to go.”

“But Loops and I were talking,” he whined, though it only took a small tug on Finn’s part to get him to snuggle up into his soft shirt. “He was telling me how good I did in the game.”

A warm hand stroked his hair out of his eyes; warmer lips brushed his forehead, and he felt Logan’s hand on his knee. “Bedtime, love,” he said in a quiet voice, almost too soft for Leo to hear over the noisy bar. “Wanna be in the middle?”

Leo looked up in hope. “Really?”

“Ouais. C’mon, Knutty, up you go.”

He wobbled a little as he stood, but got his feet under him within a few moments with the help of Finn’s arm around his waist and waved off everyone else’s offered help. “Gonna be fine for practice,” he promised, patting Sirius’ hand with a nod. “Totally fine, don’t worry. Go—hic—go grind on your boyfriend, ‘kay? You both need it.”

“Sweet Jesus,” Sirius muttered. “I pity your head in the morning.”

“I’m fine,” Leo scoffed. He was already sleepy—there was no way he would have a headache, not after he had two whole glasses of water. “G’night.”

“Drive safe,” Sirius and Remus chorused as Logan fit himself under Leo’s other arm to kiss his neck twice, sending butterflies through his stomach. The outside world was nice and quiet; Leo barely got himself buckled into his seat before dozing off with his head against the cool passenger window.

#leo knut #sirius black #remus lupin #finn ohara #logan tremblay #sweater weather #vaincre #lumosinlove #my fic #fanfic #drunkenness #postgame #coops #oknutzy

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mae-gi-writes · 4 years ago

Text

Once Again (Pt.2) | Iwaizumi Hajime (Haikyu!)

ONCE AGAIN | PART TWO

Summary:

Iwaizumi’s broken marriage results in his five-year-old son trying to match him up with his primary school teacher, whom he thinks will make a wonderful replacement for a mother.

Genre: fluff, angst, f! Reader x dad! Iwaizumi

Taglist: @multi-fandom-fanfic, @168-cm-png, @bakugouswh0r3, @yatoatyourservice, @ayocee, @marvel-ing-at-it-all, @astrolcve

A/N: Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist! Thanks to everyone for the kind feedback and for reading my work <3

< PREVIOUS PART | NEXT PART >

----

He swings his beer over the counter, "one more."

He shouldn't be drinking. Imagine the damage it's doing to his organs, alcohol sweeping through his bloodstream and purging him of all coherent thought. Iwaizumi can hear Oikawa's nagging voice in his head even within the depths of intoxication.

Does he care though? He should. He should care. Because his job is basically to get people in their best shape.

And here he is, drinking away his sorrow, still shaken up by the way Hoisuke's fingers had grabbed for him that night. The bundle of nerves he'd squashed down had only intensified upon dropping his son on his mother's doorstep the same weekend and though he knew he should've said something to Mizune, he couldn't find the will to utter the words out, lest they came back to haunt him.

His phone buzzes in his pant pocket and after finishing it out with clumsy fingers, he manages to press down onto the green button.

"Yeah?"

"You're drinking!"

"No."

"Iwa-chan~" Oikawa's voice pierces through the receiver, sickly sweet and yet with a dark threatening undertone, "what are you doing?"

"Fuck off, shittykawa."

"Where are you?"

Iwaizumi doesn't answer. He doesn't need to, for Oikawa's already exclaiming the said bar's name as he takes another sip of his newly-filled beer glass.

"I thought you said you wouldn't drink anymore," Oikawa reproaches, "think of what Hoisuke would say--"

"I said fuck off."

There's a small pause where Oikawa bristles, before he says in a quieter tone, "what's wrong?"

Still, Iwaizumi says nothing but takes another huge gulp of his beer. His head feels buzzed, disoriented.

"Iwa-chan."

The said man press his lips in a taut line.

"Iwa-chaaaan."

"I'll talk to you later," Iwaizumi barely hears his friend's protests before he cuts off the call and downs the rest of his beer like a parched man, eyes narrowing towards anyone who dares reprimand him of his behaviour.

"One more," he rasps out towards the bartender, whose sending him a look that closely mimics one that clearly says he's had enough. But he scowls in response and that's enough to make the bartender's eyes slip away.

Seriously. What is wrong with him? It's already been four months goddamnit. Get over yourself. He wishes he could punch himself in the face. God, he sounds like a loser. He looks like one. And it's no wonder that his wife has left him for someone better, richer. Everything that he's not.

Not to forget that this wound will never leave their son's heart.

"One rum and coke please."

A presence lingers in his right and the brown-haired man turns with a glare at the ready, eyebrows furrowed and lips pressed in a thin line to scare whatever stranger that comes a little too close for his liking.

What the--

He stares at you. You stare back at him, just as dumbfounded. Looking the same, yet completely different.

"Miss Y/N?"

"Iwaizumi-san?"

He feels the sudden urge to hide his empty glass, "what--are you doing here?"

"Don't look so surprised, Iwaizumi-san," you chuckle at what you think is his flabbergasted expression, "I'm still twenty-six you know. I came here with a few of my friends."

His eyes slide towards the table in the far corner -- easy to spot since it's one of the loudest -- before he almost misses your question, "and you?"

"I come here often."

"Ah I see."

As you pay the bartender who slides your drink over, you bristle for a bit before you ask hesitantly, "mind if I sit here?"

Iwaizumi shakes his head. It's not like he can say no after all. You're his kid's teacher. And shit, how many beers has he had? He better not run his mouth. It's a dirty habit of his whenever he's shit drunk.

"So," you start off slowly, looking so out of place next to the said man with a scowl so dark it can scare off the most violent of gangsters that the corners of Iwaizumi's mouth tilt upwards in amusement, "how's it going?"

Seriously? You're seriously going to do that? His gaze searches your features for a moment, satisfied when warmth floods your cheeks.

You look away, "you don't have to look at me like that, you know. I just thought you’d want some company."

"What makes you think that?” Iwaizumi says while he flags down another beer from the waiter.

You blink at him, “I can go if you want--”

The man sighs, rubbing his temples with tiredness, “that’s not what I meant.”

A weird, empty gap of silence ensues. Long enough that Iwaizumi gets his fourth beer of the night in his hand and he takes a grateful swallow.

He really should not be drinking so much.

"Where do you work?”

You’re persistent. He’ll give you that, “personal trainer. I work at the sports academy.”

“That’s cool,” there’s a small smile edging upon your lips, “you like it?”

He nods, pauses briefly, before asking, “do you?”

Of course it’s a little too close for comfort, especially since you’re Hoisuke’s teacher and all. But you merely relax in your high stool, swinging your legs while nodding eagerly. He can’t help but notice the tightness of your dark jeans, your black high-heeled boots, “I don’t see myself working as anything else. I’m bad with people most of the time.”

Taking another swig of his beer, Iwaizumi feels the tension slowly ease up from his shoulders, “well you’re way better with kids than I am.”

“You’re pretty good with Hoisuke."

“That’s because you haven’t seen him throw tantrums.”

You laugh, "oh don't worry, I have. I know all about his little fits. All my kids have one, at some point."

You say it lightly, but there's definitely love laced in your words and for a minute, Iwaizumi thinks back to the way Hoisuke kept on praising you, the way he spoke so affectionately about you.

"Do you still play volleyball?" You ask him while sipping on your drink.

He mimics the gesture, "sometimes. The guys are all over town so it's harder to meet up now."

"Dang, your team was so good though."

"It was Oikawa that held us together. We weren't that good," he tastes the bitterness of Karasuno's victory on his tongue.

"That's not true," you protest, fiddling with your empty glass, "the only reason why I watched Aoba Johsai's games was because I liked watching you play."

Dark coffee-coloured orbs sweep up to yours at that statement, as if trying to peel layers off yout shell, as if wanting to confirm the truth of your words. You feel like cowering away but you don't, instead holding his stare in hopes that he doesn't notice how your hands tremble slightly underneath his scowl.

And then, features softening ever so slightly, he murmurs out, "thanks."

You know he means it in the best way possible.

-----

One drink turns to two. And two multiplies by four. And soon enough you're tipsy off your head and singing so blatantly off-key you wonder why Iwaizumi's still by your side. You haven't been this drunk in ages and this sense of freedom makes you bold; you tug him to the dance floor to join your friends, order shot after shot as the music gets louder and your head gets lighter, proceed to blabber your mouth off about literally anything and everything that by the end of the night, you wish the ground would swallow you whole so you won't have to deal with Iwaizumi the next day.

You're not entirely sure how you find yourself being dragged by none other than the said man himself, or how your nose is currently lodged in the crevice between his neck and shoulders. But he smells good, like citrus and a mixture of mint and-- you sniff a little more -- is that cookie dough? Your mouth waters just at the thought.

"You smell like cookie dough," the words tumble out of your mouth in a jumbled mess and you inwardly feel like stabbing yourself.

So pathetic. Pitiful really.

"That's Hoisuke," Iwaizumi replies, surprisingly patient even when he's clearly not impressed, glaring at the lamppost ahead, "it's his flavour of the month."

"That's cute!" You giggle, "just like you, Iwa!"

The man sighs while shifting his grip upon your waist, "let's just get you to bed."

You probably doze off at some point or black out because the next thing you see upon opening your eyes next is the ceiling.

Hoisting your head up and groaning when your head pounds in warning, you lie back down as nausea takes over.

Shit. This isn't your room. You know that much.

What the fuck happened last night?

You remember dancing atop tables, remember spotting Iwaizumi by the bar and talking to him because he just seemed so sad and lonely. You remember dragging him onto the dance floor, dancing together, his hands on your waist--

You danced with Iwaizumi?!

The thought is enough to trigger another pounding. You groan once more, placing your hand atop your head in hopes that it will stop it from throbbing. It doesn't. But before you have more time to wallow in your self-pity, the door creaks open and your eyes almost pop out of your head when you spot a mop of brown spiky hair enter the room.

Iwaizumi.

Oh fuck. Your brain short circuits. Fuck fuck fuck.

Surprise crosses his face, clearly having not expected you to be awake yet. He walks over to place a glass of water by the nightstand and grabs your palm to tilt two aspirins into your hand.

"How's your head?" He asks.

"Fine," you wince. It's far from fine. In response, he holds out the glass and you gladly wash down the pills, warm and feeling suddenly vulerable under his stare.

Chewing onto the inside of your cheek, you muster up all your courage to ask, "what--happened last night?"

You don't miss the way his eyebrows shoot up, "you don't remember?"

"...no."

Is that amusement dancing in his eyes? You're not sure since it's gone just as quickly as it came before he says, "you got drunk. Danced on the table, had too many shots and made out with two different men--"

"I'm pretty sure the last part didn't happen."

"You said you didn't remember," he smirks lightly.

"I can't even flirt, let alone kiss strangers."

That earns you a chuckle from his part, causing your heart to flutter slightly as he straightens up, "you probably want to wash up. Bathroom's on the right. I'm in the kitchen if you need me."

"Okay," and as he turns away, you quickly add, "thanks, Iwaizumi-san."

He nods back, exiting the room and finally allowing you to collapse back against the bed to try slowing down your galloping heart. Jesus christ, you think to yourself as you slowly take in your surroundings. From the lack of furniture and with only a few clothes flung over a wooden desk chair shoved in the right, you guess it's his room. A closed laptop and a small plant sits on his desk. On the left is the nightstand filled with sports books and some manga, a closet shoved in a corner and the floor is made in veneered wood.

There's no sign of family pictures, nothing that indicates the warmth of a cosy household. It doesn't take a genius to understand why. While Hoisuke had begged you not to tell his father, you weren't a stranger to the young boy sobbing in-between breaks because he misses his mother.

Well, it's not like you're allowed into family affairs anyway, as much as that breaks your heart.

After a much needed shower and a quick brush of your teeth -- you had to make do with using your fingers with his toothpaste, too embarrassed to actually ask him whether he had a spare toothbrush -- you walk out into the kitchen to see Iwaizumi already seated at a quaint wooden table laden with eggs and toast. Behind him sits the kitchen stove and white countertops next to a fridge fitting snuggly on the left corner. On the far right of the room is a large dark grey couch and a tv set, and just behind it is a small hallway which seems to be the entrance -- guessing by the coat rack and array of shoes.

"Sunny side up or boiled?" Iwaizumi asks as you take a seat opposite him. He has already poured you a cup of strong coffee and you inhale before sighing in bliss. Your headache already feels slightly better.

"Anything is fi--" you're interrupted by his scowl, quickly changing your answer to, "sunny-side up please."

He grunts, passes you the plate and digs into his own fried eggs, the soft boiled ones forgotten at the centre of the table.

"Uhm, forgive me for point it out, but that's a lot of food Iwaizumi-san," you mumble out, not missing the way his features harden slightly.

"Force of habit," he mutters in-between mouthfuls. He doesn't need to say more, for you're pretty certain he's referring to the family he used to have, those lazy Sunday mornings that started out with brunch.

You eat in companionable silence and though it'a definitely less awkward than last night, your mind still races trying to figure out what to say to erase the permanent furrow between his brows.

Or is that his normal demeanour? To be honest, you're not quite sure yourself.

So you settle for thanking him for last night, to which he replies, "do you usually drink that much?"

"No," you duck your head, avert your gaze, "I got carried away. I'm really sorry."

"Well I wouldn't have expected my kid's teacher to be that wild," he muses while taking a bite of his toast.

Alarm zaps through you, making your eyes go wide, "I swear I'm not usually like that, really. I just--this was an exception--"

"It's fine, miss Y/N. I know," his brown pupils lock onto yours briefly, "I'm not going to report you."

"I--" nothing can really make up for your behaviour last night. You know that much, "still, I'm sorry. That wasn't appropriate," you glance up, chest tightening at the intensity of his stare, unflinching. Unwavering.

He cocks his head at you then, a semblance of a smile along his mouth, "I was pretty entertained, if you ask me."

"Was I that bad?"

"No. But let's just say that you won't want to show your face around for the next week or so."

You groan and bury your face in your hands, "what did I do?"

"You might've broken a beer glass or two," he gives you a look, "on purpose. And tried to steal the Dj's headphones cause he wasn't putting the music you requested."

"Oh god," you want to bury yourself right then and there and to your surprise, you see him laugh softly before he nudges your coffee towards you.

"Drink," he orders, "it'll make you feel less shitty."

You're about to retort with a roll of your eyes, only to be interrupted by the doorbell ringing. From the way Iwaizumi tenses, you know it's not just the mail man.

Excusing himself to go unlock the door as you twist in your seat to follow his figure, shock courses through you the moment your eyes land on Hoisuke's.

Then, his mother.

An alarm bell rings through your mind.

"I thought you said evening," comes Iwaizumi's grunt, totally unlike the guy who'd been chuckling a few seconds ago.

"Hoisuke wanted to come back early for some reason," the woman says, her gaze flickering to yours for a brief moment. It's enough to cause you to swallow hard. She continues, "I'll pick him up on--"

"Miss Y/N?!" Hoisuke shouts out suddenly and before you know it, you're being tackled into the child's arms as if you haven't seen each other forever, "what are you doing here?! Daddy!" he whips his head around in accusation, "you lied about not really really liking Miss Y/N!"

"Wha--No!" Iwaizumi yells as you frown in confusion, "huh?"

"Daddy said that really really liking someone means you wanna be boyfriend and girlfriend with them, like he was with Mama before she moved houses," Hoisuke blabbers on, totally oblivious to how the three of you keep on staring at him in growing alarm, "and then I asked him if he really really liked miss Y/N because I really really like miss Y/N but he said no, but that's a lie!"

"Hajime, what is he talking about?" His ex-wife is quick to narrow her eyes, "what have you been telling him?"

"Nothing, it's not what you think--"

"I think," she pointedly glances at you, "I should leave now. We'll talk about this later."

And with that, she swivels around and storms out, leaving the three of you to stare after her in a mixture of shock and confusion.

Hoisuke, oblivious to the sudden tension, blurts out, "daddy, why is Mama angry with you?"

----

The few weeks following the tiny incident that had resulted in an awkward misunderstanding between you, Hoisuke’s parents and the said child himself had caused you to retreat back into the shell of professionalism that included avoiding Iwaizumi whenever it was deemed possible. It hadn’t been hard since he was usually present and waiting outside class to pick up Hoisuke right on time, making it much easier to avoid conversation with him altogether.

You’d texted iwaizumi right after reaching your humble abode the day he’d practically saved your drunk ass and though you spent a few spare moments to chat in-between the bustling activities of life, it doesn’t erase the fact that he’s still Hoisuke’s father, one of your dearest students. That, and the fact that you don’t really find it fair to put Hoisuke in-between the two of you, if there’s anything worth digging for anyway.

Who are you kidding? It’s not like Iwaizumi would ever be interested in you in that sense. Having spotted his ex-wife once or twice proved that his style was of more refined women, the type that would drink wine instead of chug down beer and who’d enjoy gifts such as perfume and romantic dates instead of going on grocery trips and meal-prepping for the entire week.

“Miss Y/N!” Hoisuke’s voice pierces through your thought bubble and your eyes quickly find his grin as he jumps towards your desk, "are you coming to our house this weekend too?!"

"Wh--What? Uhm-- no I don't think so--" eyes quickly flitting over the classroom, you're relieved to find that the rest of his classmates are long gone, "I don't think that's appropriate."

"But why? I even told Mama that I wouldn't be coming this weekend because you were," he pouted and it took all of your determination not to melt, until his words registered in your brain and your eyes widened, "o--oh, but that's--"

"Hoisuke?" You both turn to see his father's head poking through the door. Your body reacts instantly, warmth flooding through your limbs and flushing through your cheeks.

"Daddy!"

"H-Hello, Iwaizumi-san," you bow your head slightly. He returns the gesture, facial expression not giving anything away. His son bounds up to him with just as much vigor, "daddy, can we invite miss Y/N this weekend too?"

You might have laughed at Iwaizumi's shocked face if not for the fact that you are the person in question.

He splutters, "Miss Y/N has things to do--"

"But she came last weekend!"

"Yes well, it's bad manners to impose on someone when they're not free," Iwaizumi replies sternly, "come on now, we're gonna be late for Karate."

With a loud sigh and a scowl that resembles so much like his father, Hoisuke mutters out his goodbyes while Iwaizumi catches your eye, bowing slightly and muttering a silent "sorry" before he guides his son out of the room. You're glad he's out of earshot that he can't hear the stuttering of your heart against your chest.

You place a hand on your chest, sigh tiredly before looking down at your students' papers, "get a grip, Y/N," you mutter to yourself.

But it's not that easy to control yourself when Iwaizumi is making it so easy to like him.

----

Iwaizumi: sorry about yesterday.

Y/N: it's okay. Hoisuke’s young, it's normal for him to want for a motherly figure around.

Iwaizumi's fingers drum over his knee as he watches with slight interest the newest male volleyball team practice their serves. He shouts after a few, calling them out for theit lazy postures, but other than that he can't seem to stop his thoughts from winding their way back to you.

"Who is she?" Mizune had asked him on the phone on the day following their encounter. Her tone was friendly, yet held that tone of warning that he was so accustomed to.

"How does that concern you?"

"I want to know who you're bringing around to hang out with Hoisuke."

"She's an acquaintance of mine," he paused, "and Hoisuke's teacher."

"That's inapropriate if you ask me."

Scoffing, he replied, "like what you did's so appropriate?"

A small pause ensued. When she spoke next, there was no mistaking the edge to her voice.

"You can't keep using that against me, Hajime."

"Don't tell me who I can or can't hang out with."

He'd hung up without bothering to wait for her response, seething and red hot with rage blubbering through his stomach.

Of course now that he thinks it over, Mizune has a point. Mixing the professional and the personal have never ended in happy endings. Not that this has ever stopped him before. He doesn't believe in what everyone else thinks is right. That's also one of the main reasons why Mizune couldn't handle it anymore. Or so she said before she went to suck someone else's dick.

His phone vibrates and fishing it out, a scowl instantly shadows his face upon seeing Oikawa's name flash across the screen.

Oikawa: Iwa-chan ~ have you asked her out yet?

Iwaizumi has to force himself to stay in control and not pound his phone to pieces when he types out his reply.

Iwaizumi: No.

Oikawa: BUT WHYYYY~ YOU SAID YOU FOUND HER CUTE.

Oikawa: and Hoisuke likes her. He already knows her.

Iwaizumi: I didn’t say that. And she's not interested.

Oikawa: Just because you suck at picking up cues doesn't mean she isn't throwing them at you 😏😏😏

Iwaizumi: shut up, shittykawa.

Oikawa: Just do it or I'll do it for you.

Iwaizumi: I don't even like her that way.

Oikawa: why'd you rant about not wanting to hurt her feelings yesterday night then?

Iwaizumi's hand rubs at his face with a groan. Oikawa's a little shit most of the time, but he's a perceptive little shit.

Oikawa: I mean it. Ask her out or I'll do it for you.

Oikawa: gotta go now. Match is starting. See ya!~ muah ❤

"Dumbass," Iwaizumi growls under his breath before shoving the phone back into his pocket. Easier said than done to ask someone out so casually, especially when she's Hoisuke's teacher.

If she accepts, great. If she doesn't, he'll have to suffer through humiliation for the rest of the year or avoid picking up Hoisuke altogether.

Oh fuck it.

He lets his body send the message before his brain can catch up to the way he has thrown himself under the bus, shoves his phone back into his pocket and tries to put the thought out of his mind even though the device suddenly feels hot and heavy in his pant pocket.

Iwaizumi: we're having takeout and movie night on Friday. You're free to join.

----

523 notes · View notes

undersero · 4 years ago

Text

sweet

please note: i’m aware this work was on the lovingshinso blog- i am the one who wrote it and posted it there. i am the author and i am sharing it to my new blog here.

pairing: hanta sero x fem reader

warnings: breeding kink (this is literally the plot), squirting, swearing, unprotected vaginal sex, overstimulation, feral sero, eventual pregnancy/pregnant reader at the end, labor and delivery is mentioned one time as written here

word count: 5.1k

There were some things in life that Sero really enjoyed. He liked to eat bagels with the strawberry cream cheese, and he liked to nap on Sunday afternoons. He really enjoyed when the weather was nice and he could fire up the grill and make something delicious.

Of course, there were thoughts that he enjoyed too. Being a loved, sought-after hero. Backpacking around the world. Climbing the hero charts. Making a difference.

One such thought was above the others, though.

Breeding you. Throwing his pretty wife’s pretty legs over his shoulders and pounding into your little cunny with no thoughts other than to breed, breed, breed. Feeling your cunt stretch around him. Pumping load after load of his seed into your gushing hole, hoping that it’ll take, hoping that soon, you’ll be full and round with his child.

When this thought crept up on him, a blush normally settled on his ears. It was almost overwhelming to think about- beautiful, yes, but overwhelming. His brain plays the sensations in his head and he has to consciously keep himself calm, take steadying breaths and will his arousal to die down.

Some nights, though… it festered inside him. Hanta felt his heart clench in his chest when he saw you come out of the bathroom, fresh from a shower. His t-shirt adorned your body, hanging off your frame adorably, the hem just brushing the top of your thighs. You smelled nice, like roses and vanilla- he caught a whiff as you crawled into bed with him.

How could he not touch you?

Gently, he tugged you near to him, and you smiled up at him, cuddling into his broad, strong chest. Hanta hummed in content, pressing his nose to your hair and inhaling your alluring shampoo, allowing himself to be caught up in you.

Your skin was so soft, so smooth, smelled so nice. He wanted to squeeze it so hard it turned white, wanted to grope that soft area on your lower belly that made you mewl. That soft skin, when touched, always made you shiver and whine in the most beautiful way. You’d always shiver, pressing your head against him somehow. Were you showing submission when you did this? Or was it simply a need to be close? He never quite figured that out, but each time you did this, it unleashed something from inside him so possessive, so feral that he had to be careful to prevent it from taking over.

But maybe he wouldn’t stop it when he bred you. There was a thought.

What?

Oh.

He blinked in surprise, seeing your curious gaze meet his. You were talking to him, expecting an answer. He swallowed hard, chuckling a bit. His ears were red.

“Sorry, what?” He asked, and you laughed, kissing his lips softly.

“Didn’t realize you were so tired,” you said, mistaking his spacey behavior for exhaustion and not horny daydreaming, “I asked if you wanted me to bring you lunch tomorrow. You mentioned it was a paperwork day.”

Hanta loved when you stopped by his agency, he loved when your face lit up when you saw him. He loved knowing that this work was what took care of you both. You didn’t have to work a day in your life if you didn’t want to- but Hanta, of course, never forced you to stay home. He wanted you to have the option to find your dream job anywhere you wanted- and if that job was to stay home and be his adorable little housewife, then so be it. If your dream job was to become a lawyer, so be it. He’d always support you. Always had, always would.

“Yeah,” he said, smiling brightly at you. “Yeah, that would be nice,” he murmured.

With that confirmation, you smiled, kissing him again, feeling your eyelids become droopy and your body feel sluggish and warm. Hanta’s arms felt warmer and more secure than any you’d ever been in before and you couldn’t help but want to stay there forever.

Sleep came to you quickly. It didn’t come as fast for your husband; Hanta stayed awake after he clicked off the bedside light, looking at you sleeping so sweetly in his arms.

That was the best way he could describe you. Sweet. Sweet in everything you did. You gave sweet kisses, and sweet advice, and you made the sweetest brownies he’d ever had. Your face was sweet… your hands were sweet, looking even sweeter when he put that ring on the left one not so very long ago. You smelled sweet…

...and he knew you’d look sweet when he had you in a mating press. When he bred you and filled you up with his cum. Your face would be fucked out, red, eyes hazy and unfocused. Maybe you’d even be drooling- he loved when he fucked you that good. And he’d sure as hell do it when he knocked you up- he’d have you creaming on his cock so much, so often, that the only thing in your brain would be the only name falling off your tongue- Hanta.

A shiver racked through his body. He blinked a few times, taking a deep breath.

Settling back into the pillows, he pressed his nose against your hair once more, inhaling and smiling softly against your head. He loved you so much. But these thoughts…

Well, if he didn’t breed you soon, they might just drive him crazy.

The next morning was pretty uneventful. Hanta woke up and went to work, kissing you several times, making you squeal and giggle with glee as you handed him a thermos of coffee to drink on his commute to work. When he arrived at his agency, his desk was nearly overflowing with paperwork, which surely would have put a damper on his day had he not known you were coming to see him.

This knowledge didn’t do much to make the paperwork any less sucky, though. It was tedious. He signed and initialed so many times that he idly wondered if he could get stamps with his signature on them- that would make this whole, boring ordeal a lot easier on the wrist… might take a little less time, too. He wondered if there were any rules against that, and was still pondering this thought when his receptionist called into his office phone; the shrill ring scaring him nearly half to death.

“Yeah?” He answered after taking a moment to compose himself and ignore the fact that he just shrieked like a twelve year old seeing a very large, menacing bug.

“Cellophane, you have a visitor,” his receptionist relayed. “Should I send her up?”

His heart soared.

“Yeah,” he said, unable to hide the smile in his voice.

Moments later, you came through the door, a bento box in hand, your bag slung over your shoulder. A blush was on your cheeks. Even after all this time, seeing your handsome husband, Hanta the Hero, made you so excited you felt like you could and would explode.

A matching blush and smile on his cheeks, Hanta came around the desk and gave you a soft, loving kiss. You tasted like mint bubblegum, the blue kind, not the green kind, and it made him shiver, just slightly, with delight.

“Hi, handsome!” you said, pulling him back in for another kiss and cupping his face. The cool metal of your rings pressed against his flushed cheek, only making his blush worsen. Sero grinned against your mouth and pulled you closer by your waist, giving you a little squeeze, before pulling away.

“Hey, beautiful,” he said, gently carding his fingers through your hair and giving you a soft kiss on the forehead. “This paperwork has been kicking my ass. So glad you came.”

You eyed the stack of papers on the desk behind your husband, making a squeamish face before looking up at him with sympathetic eyes.

“Yeah that looks… like a migraine waiting to happen,” you said. Sero laughed.

“I know. It is, though. Maybe I should make an intern do it for me,” he teased, wiggling his eyebrows.

Scoffing, you batted his chest before quoting one of your and Sero’s closest friends.

“That’s not very heroic!” you scolded playfully before breaking into a fit of giggles. Sero laughed, pulling you in closer and kissing your cheek and neck, over and over, thus making you laugh even more.

After several moments of kissing and giggling, Hanta stilled and inhaled, smelling that same alluring scent on you that he’d smelled the previous night when you got out of the shower. It was so comforting… if there was ever a time when he was spinning, out of control, losing touch with his surroundings and with what was important or not, that smell… well, he knew that smell would bring him right back.

The problem was, though, that right now, that very smell was sending his mind spinning again. He had no control over it and his ears were turning pink.

His mind raced. He could take you right here, throw the paperwork aside, lay you out on his desk, press you in half, holding your knees nearly by your ears. The desk would give him such a good angle too, he’d be able to fuck into you as hard as he wanted with no worries of his thrusts being impeded by the soft, plushiness of your bed. All he’d have to do was tell his receptionist to cancel any appointments he had for the afternoon- he couldn’t even remember if he had any at that point- tell her to not permit any calls in…

All this ran through his hot, overworked brain in about a second, and in that second, he just smelled your hair, being so relaxed and at peace outwardly while he was, inside, raging with uncontrollable arousal. He had to have you. Had to breed you. Breed, breed, breed.

“Babe,” you said, your voice was quiet, soft. Almost unsure. His heart dropped for a moment, worried that in his haze, he’d somehow spoken or made his thoughts known to you some other way. He pulled back just enough to look at you, tilting his head to the side, willing you to continue.

You were chewing on your lip so adorably that it hurt his heart and made him yearn to be the one chewing your lip. Your cheeks were redder, but your eyes were looking at him earnestly, almost shining with excitement. Clearly he hadn’t slipped and spoke his thoughts, otherwise you wouldn’t have been looking at him like that…

“Hm?” he asked, tilting his head, “you look so serious, babe.”

You smiled a little, looking down, bashful.

“Yeah… um… so, like...you remember what we were talking about the other day?”

Well...that was vague. The two of you talked about a lot of stuff the other day, and every day before or since. Hanta’s confusion was evident on his face and you shook your head, giggling in spite of yourself, before taking a breath and trying again.

“Okay… that’s not clear. I meant…”

Why was this so hard for you to say out loud? Maybe it was because of the way Sero’s brown eyes bore into you, looking intensely, even though he wasn’t necessarily trying to do that. Just looking at you, curiously, wanting to know what was on your mind. Your husband...so caring. So loving.

“I’m listening, Bonita,” he prodded gently, tucking some hair behind your ear. The nickname sent a shiver down your spine, and you smiled at him.

“About starting a family,” you said, shy.

Oh yeah. The conversation that started this whole obsession that was taking over Hanta’s thoughts. You’d been looking on Social Media, on a friend’s profile, cooing over her baby who’d just turned two. And then the conversation...turned.

“I think it might be a good time to think about it,” you said, turning and looking at Sero with hopeful eyes and pink, blushy cheeks. “You’ve got your agency going...and we’re both still young. Seems to be working in our favor, don’t you think?”

Sero smiled at you, his own cheeks getting red; the tips of his ears were starting to pinken, too.

“You think so?” he asked, delighted, butterflies in his chest akin to the ones he felt the very first time he’d seen you smile at him. You nodded enthusiastically.

“I think so! I mean… that’s assuming you want to.”

You had talked about it before with your husband, but in a passing kind of way. Like, ‘one day we’ll be parents’ and ‘we’ll have to remember that when we have kids’. It was never a fully serious thing, never something that the two of you really thought about or planned out. Until this conversation. Until now.

“Yeah! Of course I want to,” Hanta said, giving you a kiss. And then, what started off as five simple words, became the source of his current obsession. Of his current need to breed you immediately and upon every surface of every space you’d been in. Five words that seemed totally innocent at the time but immediately had his heart racing, his libido rising, and his gut clenching in arousal.

“You’ll be a beautiful mommy.”

Presently, Hanta had to consciously swallow to wet his suddenly parched mouth. He grinned at you, that same dazzling, sparkling Hanta Sero grin that made your knees weak and your heart flutter. He leaned in and kissed you, passionately, the lunch you’d brought for him all but forgotten about.

Inhaling deeply and pulling away, you saw Hanta’s expression had changed. It was darker now, more… needy. He nipped your bottom lip, making you mewl in surprise and lean in closer to him; his strong arms kept your knees from collapsing.

“Yeah, I remember,” he told you, voice having noticeably dropped an octave, maybe even two. The change immediately made you blush harder- you were sure you looked like a tomato at this point, but you didn’t care, not when your husband, the only man who’d ever have your heart, looked at you that way.

“I thought,” you murmur, voice sounding softer, like your body would surely be when you carried his child; softer, supple, stretching so beautifully around a stomach full of life, “I thought it would be nice to maybe start trying.”

Hanta groaned, the words having an obvious effect on him. He pulled you flush against his chest, roughly kissing against your jaw, nipping every few times to make you positively melt in his arms. You felt the need waft off him in waves- it was hot and potent, almost making you dizzy as you felt his unquestionable want, his need, to breed you.

He opened his mouth to answer you, when at the exact moment, his office phone rang again, causing you both to flinch in surprise; thankfully, he didn’t shriek this time. That would have changed the mood.

But he still sighed heavily, swallowing hard, before opening his eyes and giving you an easy smirk. He’d been brought out of whatever trance you’d put him in, it seemed.

“I hate that damn thing,” he muttered, casting a disparaging glance at the phone.

He answered the call from his receptionist, and soon, you were on your way home. Hanta gave you many kisses and hugs for the road, leaving you feeling well loved and excited to see him that evening.

But further, the entire visit left you...curious. You’d never seen Hanta act so...possessive. Almost… you couldn’t think of the right word. The way he kissed you, though. How dark his eyes had gotten. The way you felt your husband’s need roll off of him in the heaviest way you’d never experienced before.

Your mind rolled the interaction over and over, prodding and playing and questioning and wondering.

Certainly, you knew you wanted a family with him. Hanta would be an excellent father and you never doubted that for a second, never for a moment. Excitement tingled in your chest- this was a huge decision, of course, but it was one you knew you wanted. Based on his behavior back at his office, and the behavior he’d been displaying before, you could tell your husband was pretty into the idea as well.

A familiar heat settled into your stomach, burning embers of arousal keeping you just warm enough to notice, but not yet scalding enough to make you squirm.

That, like you, like your husband, would come later.

It was an understatement to say that Sero was distracted for the rest of his afternoon. He likely wouldn’t have been able to hit the floor with his helmet, even if he was trying to. His brain whirled in excitement, spun in arousal and possibilities. It was maddening, dizzying. He couldn’t tell which way was up anymore, but that didn’t matter. He didn’t need to know which way was up to know he was the luckiest man in the world.

Not only was he your husband, but he was going to be the father of your child, too.

Sero never considered himself to be the fatherly type- not really, at least. He’d never discounted it either, but then… well. Then he met you, and his entire life changed.

When he first saw your eyes, your smile… heard you giggle… he knew without a doubt he wanted to be your husband, wanted to be your man. He wanted to hold you every night and wake up to you, bed head and morning breath, every morning.

And the more time he spent with you, the more he knew he wanted to be a father. He wanted to be the father to your children, he wanted you to be the mother of his babies.

And the time, finally, blessedly, was here.

Dinner was an interesting affair that night. You couldn’t have been more spaced out while making it… you were only semi-sure that you’d included all the correct ingredients in all the proper amounts. It didn’t taste awful, so that was a good indication; you still would not have put it past yourself to mix up two spices, or forget something altogether only to add an unneeded ingredient.

Sero didn’t complain, though, not that he ever did. But he looked distracted. His cheeks were permanently rosey, it seemed, and he kept looking at you, only to shyly look down when you met his gaze. It was cute, really, like you two were kids trying to figure out your feelings for one another for the first time.

There wasn’t much conversation. Little broken bits of sentences passed between the two of you. Small laughs and hums filled the rest of the otherwise quiet atmosphere and semi-regular sounds of silverware scraping plates.

After about half an hour, and after you both had managed to eat about half of what was on your plate, he finally spoke.

“I don’t know why I feel so nervous,” he said with a shy, almost bashful laugh, cheeks blooming a brighter red.

“I feel it too. I feel like a virgin,” you told him, to which he reached across the table and took your hand.

“I’m sure you were a cute virgin,” he teased with an affectionate squeeze, and you laughed out loudly, maybe a little more harshly than you intended with your shotty nerves. This only made Sero’s expression toward you soften even more.

“Gee, thanks,” you said, leaning in, closing the gap between you and kissing him. The kiss came easily enough; you were pros at this point.

“Should we… y’know?” Hanta asked, lips mere millimeters from yours, breath fanning across your flushed face. Another giggle left your lips, but this one was more high-pitched and nervous.

“Yeah,” you said. You swore you saw the same apprehension mirrored in Hanta’s eyes, but he quickly stood and scooped you up before carrying you, bridal-style, to the bedroom.

The walk there seemed to take ages. You were horny, that dull warmth from your walk home had turned into quite the all-encompassing heat, but your hands felt clammy and cold and were fidgety.

You hadn’t been lying; you really did feel like you were a virgin. Like you’d never been fucked stupid by the man holding you.

It was an exciting thing. A scary thing. An exhausting thing. But it was the start of your adventure, the greatest one you’d take, and it was with your loving, attentive husband.

As you approached your room, Hanta’s body seemed to relax a bit, almost as if passing the threshold made this whole thing easier for him now that he was in an extra safe, comforting space.

As he laid you on the bed, on your back, you didn’t see apprehension in his eyes anymore. They were dark now, nearly black, and just one look alone had your heart racing. The butterflies in your stomach were now the size of watermelons and it felt like there was no way, no reasonable way at all, for them to avoid bursting your stomach, but they never did. Somehow. Heat which didn’t exist before radiated between your bodies, and you were taken back to that same feeling that washed over you when you visited him earlier. Your cheeks flushed and you felt...submissive. Needy. Helpless.

Hanta started rubbing his hands all over your pretty little body, rubbing your sides as he hovered over you, gazing down lovingly at your form through those dark eyes. One hand slid up under your shirt, fingertips gently grazing over your soft belly, the action and the intimacy giving you goosebumps.

“Love you,” you whispered, looking at him with starry eyes, and he smiled back at you.

“Love you too,” he murmured, leaning down to kiss you, “and I’m gonna fuck you full.”

The shivers in your body hadn’t subsided once you both were stripped down. You weren’t cold; there was no shortage of heat between you and your husband’s bodies- it was the thrill of it all. The knowledge that you were going to be bred by such a handsome, capable man. It drove you wild. His touches drove you wild. You wanted to jump his bones, but you were stuck, on your back against the comforter, with Hanta kissing down, down, down…

Then, your legs were over his shoulders and he was lapping hungrily at your already sopping cunt. Long, broad strokes up and down your lips before he spread your folds open with his fingers. You heard his sharp intake of breath, though this was something he’d seen many times before.

Your cunt, pink and pretty, like a tiny rosebud, was breathtaking. Awe-inspiring. Delicious. Hanta leaned forward as you held your breath in anticipation, eventually exhaling with a tiny whine as he licked through your folds with practiced movements. His tongue felt like heaven. He knew exactly what to do, how to swirl his tongue, how to lap at your hardening clit. And there was no room for teasing tonight, not as far as Hanta was concerned. He wanted you to cum as many times as he could.

The first orgasm came quickly; his constant sucking and lapping at your clit, coupled with harsh, efficient swipes to the bud with his thumb, had you cumming in mere minutes. If you hadn’t been so fucked out, you were sure Hanta would have teased you about making you cum in a new record time.

Pleasure pumped through every artery, every vein of your body. You felt warm and floaty, but Sero didn’t stop. Of course he didn’t. He was nowhere near done with you.

A finger breached your hole, pressing inside up to his knuckle with ease. You mewled at the sensation, the slight burning, the overwhelming goodness of being so full.

“Ffff…” you huffed out, cheeks red, squeezing your eyes shut as your toes curled in response to Hanta moving his finger into and out of you at a nearly agonizingly slow pace.

Then, he added another. And a third. Three fingers pumping you open, scissoring inside you, curling to hit that little spot within your spongy walls that made you moan and cry and see stars.

Sero looked like he was possessed. His head was bowed between your legs, watching your cunt suck his fingers in, feeling in delight the fact that you didn’t seem to want to let his fingers out. His eyes were dark, too. His cheeks were flushed. There was so much tension in his body- he held it in his shoulders, in his hips, in his hands...and most especially in his cock, throbbing with need, bobbing heavily between his legs.

Your second orgasm washed over you without much fanfare, though it did feel incredibly good, making your toes curl so hard that you almost felt the muscles in your feet cramp in protest. Almost.

And then, Sero was sitting up and your legs were falling off of his shoulders. His hands rubbed soft, soothing circles into the soft, flushed flesh of your thighs, and he smiled at you so softly that it nearly made you cry. Your husband.

“Ready?” His voice was soft, surprisingly so, considering how rough he looked and how red his cock was. You nodded, smiling, feeling anxious nerves bubble up in your stomach and make your chest feel fuzzy, like soda.

“We’re gonna do it,” you said, voice hoarse from your whimpers. “We’re gonna be parents.”

A silent, intimate moment passed between the two of you; a moment in which eternity spread out before you. You could both see it; a child, growing in your womb, slowly at first, but then quicker than you could ever imagine. You envisioned a nursery, one with soft green curtains and a big, white crib with a soft, pastel baby blanket hanging over the side. Labor and delivery flashed through both your minds, but then, the warm, imagined feeling of seeing your child for the first time. It made both of your chests expand with a love so strong that it nearly consumed the both of you. You surmised, though, that actually seeing your child, in your arms, would be a much stronger event.

Then, like a reel of film, you saw your child growing up. Learning to talk. Walking. Running. Playing, laughing, growing. Breaking your hearts and making them stronger at the same time. Developing a quirk, maybe, but developing a passion, definitely. Knowing how loved they were by mommy and daddy, knowing that they had a safe place to call home. School. Graduation. The real world. Weddings.

It all stretched between you and Hanta, like the vast expanse of an unexplored journey; the greatest and most terrifying and exhilarating and challenging of all.

This all happened within a second, but you both felt it. You saw the same things, you experienced the same feelings. Hanta’s eyes, still dark, but now brimming with emotion, stared into yours, and he touched your cheek.

“Yeah,” he confirmed softly, with a nod. “Yeah, babe. It’s always been you.”

First. Your legs wrapped tightly around Hanta’s waist, resting on the dimples of his lower back as he drove himself into you with practiced, hard thrusts. His hands dug into your hips, his thumbs pressing on that soft skin on your lower belly. You mewled at his presses on such a delicate area. Your first orgasm with him inside you was like being submerged in a warm bath. It was slow, almost, not frenzied, and at this point, it was relatively calm. Sero’s orgasm followed suit.

Second. Your left leg is up over Hanta’s shoulder, the right one pinned to the bed with his left hand. His wedding ring glints in the lowlights of your room as he fucks you, this time with more vigor. Maybe it’s the different position, maybe it’s the harder thrusts, maybe it’s the fact that you’ve already cum three times and he doesn’t seem to be letting up anytime soon, but everything feels amplified. Every swipe of his thumb over your puffy clit. Every drag of his thick, beautiful cock against your sensitive, gummy walls. Every squeeze to your thigh…

Every look that you shared. Hanta’s eyes were even darker now, darker than they’d been earlier that day at his agency. More needy, almost feral. Your second orgasm with him inside you wasn’t as pleasant. It was hot now, not just warm, and sparks of overstimulation shocked you as your body jerked, almost convulsing as the pleasure tore out of you. Hanta came with a grunt of your name, his voice now so deep and gravelly that he sounded feral.

Third. Hanta was feral now. His hair stuck out in a million different directions, his pupils were completely blown. Breed, breed, breed. He held your thighs down to the bed, on either side of you, your knees pressed down on the mattress in close proximity to your ears.

Breed, breed, breed. Tears streamed down your flushed face, and you were babbling nonsense, mostly of your husband’s name and broken little whines.The headboard smacked the wall, the sound reverberating through the room as Hanta thrusted with his entire body weight into your aching, sloppy cunt. He growled, primeval in his need to fill you up- it was no longer a want. He needed to breed you. He’d simply go crazy if he couldn’t.

Your third orgasm felt like an atomic bomb went off within your walls. Arousal gushed forward as you squirted, your entire cunt clenching violently, milking Hanta’s throbbing cock for all it was worth, painfully so, in your sensitivity. You cried out, sobbing, nails clawing at your husband’s bare back and arms. But he continued to fuck into you recklessly. The drywall behind the bed cracked. The bedframe groaned. A feral growl unlike anything you’d ever heard came from your husband as he came, driving his hips and his seed further and further into your womb.

Breed, breed, breed.

The day was sunny and clear. A warm breeze fluttered in through your open kitchen window, rustling the curtains and wafting the delicious smells from the stove throughout your home. A soft smile pulled at your face as you stirred and seasoned as needed- baby corn. Baby carrots. Baby back ribs.

Of course, there was a theme.

Hanta came home, calling for you, and your heart soared, fluttering in your chest and settling down into your belly.

“I’m in here babe,” you replied, turning, and picking up a small box.

The box itself was nothing remarkable. It was yellow, small, and rectangular- like the kind of box one would put a necklace inside of, but this one held something more precious than a necklace.

This box held your future.

Inside, nestled in with sea green tissue paper, was a pregnancy test. The first pregnancy test you’d taken that showed those two sacred, life-changing, little pink lines.

#mha smut #my hero academia smut #hanta sero smut #sero smut #sweet #receipts: works from my old blog

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alicanta77 · 4 years ago

Text

[7:13am]

You felt the throbbing ache in your head before you had even properly registered that you were awake. Every part of your body was slow, it felt as if you were constantly moving through tar, and after the simple act of opening your eyes made you question whether you’d need to do an emergency run to the bathroom, you abandoned all idea of sitting up.

Hazy memories of the night before flashed through your mind, some of them making you screw your eyes shut in hopes that that would make them disappear. If you hadn’t felt so worn down, you would have groaned, but the thought of making any noise at all made you feel more nauseous than you were willing to admit.

However, you were definitely not the only one in that state, because the stuttering gurgles emitting from your boyfriend’s chest as he lay beside you, proved that he was dealing with just as bad of a hangover as you were. You rolled your head slowly to the side, ignoring the way your brain seemed to roll around your head as you did. Hyuck did the same thing and one look into his tired, regret filled eyes made you burst out into a chuckle.

Hyuck immediately laughed at the state of you, making you know immediately that you looked like a trainwreck, but he wasn’t looking that fresh either so you weren’t fussed. It wasn’t a joyful laugh by any means, it was a quiet messy laugh, one where you can’t really believe what you’re looking at. Hyuck forced himself to sit up, and you followed, the two of you pausing when you caught your reflections in the floor length mirror opposite his bed.

If your head hadn’t felt as though it was about to implode, you would have died laughing. Your hair was a mess, a complete lack of control to the way it was hanging over parts of your face and bending in weird directions. Your makeup was smudged, half of it being left on your pillow. You were missing an earring, still had one shoe on and wearing some else’s trousers, which confused you since you came in a skirt.

Hyuck looked just as bad. His hair was sticking up in all directions, the same way a cartoon character’s does when they’re electrocuted. He had dark bags under his eyes, a lipstick mark on his neck that you vaguely remembered being your doing. His shirt was inside out, and, at some point in the night, he had found some neon leg warmers and put them on his arms, meaning the bright yellow was blinding against the black of his shirt.

Neither of you said anything, just halfheartedly laughing at your appearances, until Hyuck just picked up his phone and pointed it at the mirror, snapping a few pictures. You turned to look at him, squinting your eyes as you croaked out a threat.

“If that goes anywhere, I will end you.”

“Yes ma’am.” Hyuck replied, attempting a mock salute but instead just flopping back down on the bed.

The sudden movement seemed to be a very bad decision as Hyuck groaned at the way his stomach was thrown around in its current sensitive state. You rolled your eyes at him, lowering yourself back down a lot slower.

The two of you lay in silence for the next few hours as you tried to get the courage to get out of bed. While the silence was comfortable, your physical states were decidedly not.

Gradually over the time you had pulled yourself into a sitting position and by now you were ready to get up. You hadn’t slept much over the last night, knowing that the few hours you had slept was nowhere near the amount that you needed. You pushed yourself up to standing, stretching slightly before beginning to slowly shuffle out of the door, moving remarkably similarly to a zombie.

You registered the sound of shuffles behind you and assumed that Hyuck had decided to follow you. Somewhere on your way to the kitchen you paused to take off the one shoe that was left on your foot, carefully stepping over a sleeping Chenle to find Jaemin and Jeno in the kitchen.

As the two of you entered, Jaemin’s laughter disrupted the previously silent and healing atmosphere. Since Jaemin doesn’t like alcohol, he never has to deal with the next day effects of drinking too much, leading to him almost always making fun of those of you in a slightly more fragile state than he was. While Jaemin was casually wandering around in his mint green hoodie, making a cup of coffee without a care in the world, Jeno seemed to resemble the two of you.

Like Hyuck, his hair was a catastrophic mess and his eyes were almost fully shut as he leant on his hand to keep himself upright. Every so often he slipped down slightly, startling him into sitting back up again. He gave you a groan of some kind in greeting, one that you both returned just as inarticulate.

“Well, aren’t you a cheerful bunch today.” Jaemin grinned, sitting across from the three of you and taking another photo.

You sighed at the knowledge that yet another person has proof of your sorry state. Hyuck pulled out his phone, immediately selecting a food delivery service and you rested your head on his shoulder in silent thanks. He moved slightly to place a soft kiss to your forehead, never taking his eyes off the screen in front of him.

You watched him add your favourite order, before adding food for himself and then sliding the phone over to Jeno. Jaemin then took over, adding some stuff for the other boys who hadn’t even appeared yet, and a small something for himself.

You kept your head in Hyuck’s neck, his natural scent covering your senses and bringing you an indescribable feeling of comfort. For the first time that morning, you didn’t feel your hangover at all. You didn’t feel your pounding head, or your stomach that was both excited and nervous at the thought of putting food in it. You didn’t feel embarrassed by any of the memories you have from last night.

You just felt Hyuck.

His hand reached out, grabbing yours and pulling it onto his lap and he allowed his head to land on top of yours. His thumb rubbed gentle circles into the back of your palm, a silent reassurance that he was here and he had you.

But you knew that. You knew that, no matter where you were, what you looked like, how hungover or unresponsive you were, Hyuck would have your back. He would be there for you, ready to catch you if you fall. He didn’t just bring comfort, he brought comfort, safety, security all within a gentle touch. Hyuck had always been a physical being, but you’d just assumed that it was because touch brought him comfort. You soon learnt that it was also the way he gave it.

Whenever you had a bad day, you never felt better until you’d had a hug from Hyuck, and Hyuck never felt okay until he’d given it to you. You were the person he wanted to cuddle, annoy, love for the rest of his life. You were the person that understood him better than anyone else had ever done. You were the person that could wake up with him, look like death itself and look at him like he put the stars in the sky. You were the person that made him become the person he was today. You were the person he wouldn’t exist without. You were the person that completed him.

You were his person.

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munsonenthisiast · 4 years ago

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Then & Forever

A/N: I wrote this in like five days and had my bestie edit. This is my first time writing anything, but I love Josh so-

Summary: Since you started working for GVF, you and Josh had grown close to each other over the years. This time you hope your feelings don't get in the way of ruining everything you built.

Contains: Smut, drinking, smoking, cursing

WC: 10.9k

"So you're saying that. . . you've never played an instrument before?" Sam pointed at his bass. You laughed at the question, sipping your beer. "Correct." Sam furrowed his face in confusion. "Then why do you have a degree IN music if you can't play?" Josh hit Sam on the shoulder with a pencil making a small face. You shrugged your shoulders, swishing the alcohol around your mouth. "I don't know, It's just something I've never wanted to do, you know. I guess it's one thing knowing about an instrument rather than playing it."

Everyone nodded in agreement. "Well, if you did play anything I'm sure you'd be really good at it." Josh smiled towards you. He went back to writing in his journal while everyone else went back to respectively playing their own instruments.

But for you, it seemed a long way home. Never did it cross your mind that you would basically be living with four different people from time to time. Especially not so quickly. Greta Van Fleet was your first job, and really, first anything. From high school until now, you were alone. Which made you a little grumpy when working with people, but none the less you warmed up to them quickly. Especially Josh, who always seemed attached to the hip with you.

Josh may have annoyed you a tiny bit at first, but his euphoric mind is what intrigued you in the first place. He always seemed so wise, knowing the right answer to everything. And the way he wrote the lyrics to songs, just naturally appeared to him somehow. It was truly magic.

Jake smacked you on the arm, calling for your attention. "Ok, what do you think of this." He pulled the guitar over his lap, playing the notes he came up with. You quickly wrote down the notes he played, looking out for any correction. "So what do you think?" He asked, flailing his arms around. Running your pencil down the piece of paper, you started to shake your head. "I think it sounds pretty good," you said looking at Josh, who also nodded his head in compliance. "What would also sound cool is if you gave it a little vibrato during a live show."

Jake smiled writing the commentary down on a sticky note. "You know, for not knowing how to play, you really are smart with this kind of stuff." You glared your eyes at him, snickering just a little bit. Everyone worked for a couple of more hours, before calling it a night. Danny and Sam were practically sleeping on each other.

You shook Sam awake, snatching his car keys from his hand. "We'll both be dead if you drive, and were the most important in the band. Well, besides Danny. And Jake. And Josh." You twirled the keys around your finger while Sam stretched to get awake. Josh flipped all the pages over in his journal, turning to you. "We got pretty far today, don't you think?" Josh smiled at his brothers, who were already arguing about something. "Yeah. Maybe we'll get better stuff done tomorrow, you know. This is supposed to be the 'fun' part," you said using air quotations, "but the most boring part out of everything. But maybe, in the end, it'll all be worth it." you hit Josh's arm softly.

"Are you going with Sam?" you nodded quickly. "Yeah, I kind of promised him I would help him with some stuff in the morning." Josh looked sadder than ever. You smiled at Josh, noticing Sam waiting by the door with Jake and Danny. "I'll see you later." You gave Josh a quick kiss on the head.

"Let's go." you wiggled a finger at Sam, practically dragging him to the car. The ride to Sam's house was fairly quiet other than the little snores coming from him. It was nice to get a moment or two of peace to yourself. Working and living with four grown men gave no room for privacy. Everything is shared between you all. Which you had to admit, scared you a little at first because you've always grown up with a sister and maybe a few girlfriends here and there; but you were never as close to them, then as you were to the band.

The house was quiet when you walked in, dark and dim from the night sky. Sam immediately walked to his bedroom, and passed out on his bed. Which left you alone in the kitchen. Putting some of the items away in cabinets, you looked around at all the brothers' family photos, including some of Danny. It made you smile to yourself to see some of them so young and happy. Maybe a little vulnerable too. You were a little envious of how confident some of them had been with their work, just being able to put themselves out there, accepting failure. Not you though. Failure made you angry, furious even. Sometimes it got so bad, you'd hide away for days without any contact with the outside world.

After putting all the trash away, you headed back to the spare room. You turned on all the lights, changing into some warmer clothing. Crawling under the sheets, sleep came easy that night.

When you woke up, the blinds had been left the night before causing you to shoot out of bed. Quickly rubbing your eyes, you went to the bathroom to clean up a bit. When you walked towards the kitchen, your feet padded beneath you. Sam still wasn't up, which was pretty normal. You started some coffee and cooked breakfast for the two of you. Though, something triggered you to open a forbidden drawer and bum a cigarette. Quickly lighting it, you messed around with food until it was cooked.

"A cigarette at 8 in the morning?" Sam questioned groggily, clad in just sweatpants. "Well, you know me; I only smoke when I'm forgetting something." You both said in unison. You quickly waved him off, pouring food onto a plate for both of you. "I wonder WHO you're forgetting." You scrunched your face, looking around the room. "What do you mean who?" Sam scoffed. "Josh," You quickly rolled your eyes, slamming the plate down on the table "Eat the fucking food you loser." You both contently ate in peace while making some playful banter here and there. "So what exactly do you need help with?" Sam pulled out a cigarette from the cartridge, silently lighting.

"I need help with a decision." Sam stared at you while you nodded your in question, pretending like you at least understood what he was talking about. "Look, I just want you to go with me to buy another bass, ok. And I want to go to the record store." Narrowing your eyes, you pulled the cigarette from him. "I feel like this is something completely different than what you're telling me." Sam shook his head slowly. "Nope. I still want to keep the mint-colored bass, but I just want to have a cool collection, you know. Oh, let's buy something expensive!" He pointed the smoke at you, while you collected the dishes to put in the sink. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves, please. We can not go broke. Not like last time." You shuddered at the thought.

"Thanks for the food. I'm gonna get ready." You flinched your eyebrows and kept washing the dishes, putting them in the dishwasher. You quickly went back to the room for a change of clothes. By the time you were done, Sam was waiting at the door for you. Grabbing your coat and your shoes, you both headed out the door. Sam was walking coolly beside you, as you both looked around the town. Shops were lining down the small street, with cars passing through. He put his arm around your shoulder as you both passed through large crowds. Finally finding the music shop, you both walked in, heading to a certain section.

"So remind me," He paused to look at a sleek grey bass, flipping it over a couple of times. "Why don't you ever get with Josh? I mean he obviously likes you." You scoffed a little bit at his statement. "I thought we were here for you Sam, not to talk about me." You picked up a dark wood bass, showing it to Sam. "I mean with that same logic why don't I ever get with you? I mean we're close, right?" He rolled his eyes, still playing with the instrument you showed him.

"I think I like this one." Sam brought it up to the counter, talking to the girl up front. Who seemed to really enjoy the conversation they were having. Turning on your heel, you waited by the door playing with some random drum sticks. Sam eventually walked over and led you out. "It'll be delivered in a couple of weeks. I bought a whole new one." You pursed your lips smiling at Sam. "Did you also manage to snag that poor girl's number?"

Sam pushed you upside the head as you walked into the record store. You both parted ways looking at different sections. You flipped through vintage albums, picking out random ones you thought everyone would enjoy. After looking through some more, Sam found you and walked to the front to pay. "You found quite a lot there," Sam said, peeking through the ones in your hand.

"Yeah, figured I could add a bit to my very depressing collection." you chuckled, looking at one of the sleek covers. "Don't you have like two?" you glared back at Sam. "Which I believe are both of your band's albums." Sam laughed. You both paid, bags in hand.

"So what now?" you asked Sam as you both mindlessly walked around. "Probably go home. Want me to take you back?" You nodded in agreement and headed back to his car.

After saying goodbye to Sam, you walked back up the stairs to your apartment. When you opened the door, Josh appeared from your room, causing you to nearly break the table in the hallway.

"What the hell Josh!" He shrugged his shoulders, making his way to the couch. "What are you doing here?"

"I was waiting until you got back from hanging out with my brother. What were you two doing anyway?" Pouring a glass of water from the sink, you took a sip, and made your way to the couch next to Josh. You leaned your head back on the cushion, staring at the ceiling. "Sam bought a pretty hefty bass, and bought more records." You looked over at Josh. "What about you?"

"Well you know," he sighed. "Tried to work on writing up some new lyrics. Even went over to Danny's and Jake's to work some stuff out. It's coming along nicely." Setting the cup down on the coffee table, you looped an arm around Josh's, leaning your head on his shoulder. "Good. It'll come out beautifully in the end," you said patting his hand. You sniffed, sitting up in your seat. "Are you staying for dinner?" Josh hummed looking up at you. "Oh yeah. I was actually wondering if I could stay for the night; get's kind of lonely at my place." You nodded.

"Yeah, that's fine." You walked over to the kitchen. "Anything in mind you want to eat?" you asked. "Uh, how about that chicken. The one you make with the rice, mushrooms, and asparagus." You started to pull out the pots and pans, placing them on the stove. You leaned back on the counter watching everything cook. To be quite frank, you didn't know how you would handle Josh staying over. Of course, you and Josh were rather close, it even shocked people that you knew each other so well. After all, he knew you better than your own blood.

Maybe it wasn't such a bad thing. On one hand, it would give you time to think some things over and ponder the questions Sam had asked you earlier today. And then you could for sure decide what you wanted to do. You grabbed some plates and moved the food over to the table. Josh was already seated, patiently awaiting your arrival.

"Looks good, as always." he complimented, raising his hands towards you. "Thanks, Josh." you smiled.

"So," he said, chewing his food. "What happened at the music store?" Rolling your eyes at the thought of Sam annoying you, you told him about how he was flirting with the girl at the front desk. "I mean just giggling, and laughing, it was like watching teenagers make out." You made a small coughing noise thinking about Sam flirting with that poor girl. "But, you know, as they say, there's someone for everyone," you said sarcastically, shaking your head. Josh let out a high-pitched laugh at Sam. "That's Sam for you. He bore you with anything else?"

You thought about all the moments were Sam had bullied you over liking Josh or falling in love with Josh. Of course, you loved Josh but you weren't sure whether you were 'in love' with him per se. He was practically your other half. Nobody else could compare to that. But it was hard to decipher whether you even liked him like that. "You know. The usual; stuff about when you all were younger and more embarrassing moments."

Josh covered his face with his hands, groaning. "I hope it wasn't all too bad." He shook his head, eating the last bits of food. "Not at all, actually." As you both finished your plates, you sat in comfortable silence. That was until Josh spoke out about something.

"Hey remember that time- ugh geez, when was it," he asked, pressing on his face. "Probably around the time I first met you, and I pretty much knew then you hated my fucking guts, man" You let out a breath at the thought of Josh thinking you hated him. "But that was also the time I kept catching you listening to the album at the time. Just over and over and over again." Josh just shook his head thinking of you. "I didn't- hate you," you confessed. "I just really didn't know how to be around people so much. I did like that album though." you laughed, pointing at Josh. Who also laughed along with you. "Look, I'm sorry I made you feel that way; I just, I've never really had close friends like you." Before he could say anything back, you picked up the plates, placing them in the sink.

From inside the kitchen, you could hear him talking to his brothers on the phone. The usual screaming, laughing, and anger from whatever stupid joke someone told. It honestly made you wish you were closer to your own sister. Whom you haven't spoken to in the past ten years. After you finished off with the dishes, you walked to your bedroom. Which was hard to admit, but you had an entire wall full of Greta Van Fleet photos from when you first started working with them because you had a hard time telling who was who.

"Oh, I remember these photos!" Josh exclaimed as walked into your room. He marveled at all the photos you had printed out and plastered on the wall. Some even had labels of all the boy's names. "Yeah, a little creepy, don't you think?"

Josh shrugged. "I'll give you the benefit of the doubt because you didn't know who we were, and I know some people have a hard time differentiating between us twins." You turned around and opened up the bag full of record vinyl, handing some to Josh. "Here, I bought some for you earlier, and I figured I could use some- given the only two I have are from your band." He giggled, flipping through the different albums. "Oh, Bob Dylan! What a legend and old Michael Jackson! Very good stuff." You patted his shoulder as you put away all the other albums on a shelf.

"So, the spare bedroom should be good-" Josh cut you off. "I was hoping to sleep with you, actually. Unless that makes you too uncomfortable." You nearly choked on your own spit when Josh asked you that. You really didn't think he'd be that lonely. "Um, no that's fine. I'm sure I have someone's clothes here you can use." He grinned.

"Thanks." You handed him some spare clothes and left him to change in the bathroom. When you returned he was already tucked in, facing the wall with the pictures. Turning off the light, you quietly slid in next to him. You'd never really been in this much of an intimate situation, no less next to Josh. It wasn't awkward, but it was just hard to decipher the feelings of the both of you, and where he was going with his suggestion. "Can I ask you something?" Josh whispered. He turned around to face you closer.

"What was your initial thought when you first met me?" You laughed a little to yourself. "When I first met you I wanted to be exactly like you." Josh propped himself up on his elbow, leaning even closer to you.

"What about me?" he asked. "I don't know. You were always so confident, and the way you carried yourself; just, it made me so mad and angry that I couldn't be like that. Maybe that's why it came off that I hated you a little bit." Josh laid back down.

"Listen, you'll always be the best thing that happened to me. When I first met you, I thought you had the most brilliant mind out of everyone I ever met. Except for Danny. He's got an excellent brain." You smacked his arm laughing out loud.

"Thank you, Josh." You rolled over onto your side, hoping to fall asleep soon. Before you did though, you felt Josh slip an arm around your side; his face falling into the back of your neck. Soon, both of you fell asleep together.

When morning came the next day, Josh was still entangled in your back, but this time his arm was hugging you tighter. At any slight movement, he just pulled you closer. Finally giving up from moving away from Josh, you laid there silently in his arms. You silently traced the creases in his hand, thinking absentmindedly. He stirred a tiny bit but never woke. You took this time to turn around and look at him. His arm still wrapped around tightly on your shoulder; causing you to bury your face into his chest.

Inhaling his warm scent, you just about closed your eyes imagining a world where you were in love with him, and he loved you back. At this moment, he started to finally wake up. You decided to keep your eyes closed, too embarrassed to see what his reaction would be to find you both like this. You could feel Josh's eyes looking around the room before they made their way down to you. Feeling the certainty of him staring down at you made you panic a little. But then you could feel his hand start to part through your hair, moving it out of your face. His movement followed by leaning forward, giving you a long slow kiss on the forehead.

Then there was the fine sensation of his lips lingering on your skin. He started whispering your name, shaking you awake. You slowly blinked your eyes to make it look like you hadn't really been awake all this time. He smiled brightly when you both made eye contact. "Good morning," he said softly. You smiled, placing a hand on his chest. "Good morning Josh."

Letting out a little yawn, you turned over and sat up on the side of the bed. You sipped on some water that had been on you bedside for a while, then stretched out. "What do you plan on doing today?" you asked groggily. "Everyone wanted to meet up today and go over some stuff. Wanna join?" you quickly nodded your head.

"Great. Well then, I'll go take a shower and get ready." He walked away silently, leaving you all alone once more. Deciding against the better of things, you too got up to shower. While waiting for the water to heat up, you traced against the spots where Josh's hand had been.

It's like there was a space left on you, but you could only feel the invisible touch leftover from him. Jumping in the shower felt like you were committing a terrible sin. The handprint of Josh washed away as every drop of water hit your body. But it felt just as warm and comforting as him. After quickly getting dressed, you met Josh at the front door who was holding it open for you. The crisp autumn air surprised you in the face when you walked outside. The sidewalks weren't too busy but crowded to perfection

You both got in the car and drove to the studio. Everyone was already there by the time you two made it; For some reason, Josh had wanted to stop to get everyone coffee and a bagel, which you really couldn't say no to. Sam raised his eyebrows at you when you walked in with Josh pretty late. You hit him on the arm lightly. Sam rubbed the part of his arm, cursing you off. Everyone, including you, walked into a backroom set with all the instruments anyone could think of, and two very well-loved on couches.

The lights in the room were set to a dim, vintage-style brown, illuminating everyone's tan features. Josh handed the food out, starting the conversation. It varied from topic to topic.

"How is everyone?"

"Are there new ideas anyone wants to talk about?"

"How about we do this instead of that."

Josh snapped his fingers in front of your face, waving his hand around. "Hey silly, I asked you a question." you looked up quickly, meeting everyone's gaze. "Huh?"

"I said do you have any ideas on what we should wear?" You pulled out a small sketchbook from your jacket pocket showing Josh, and the rest of the band on the different aesthetics for clothing. "I was thinking about stitching some nudity art on the back for Josh. I'll probably go shopping for some silk and thread. I found this really cool jacket piece for Jake; I'll add some things on it, and a shiny blazer for Sam. As for Danny, I found these really nice pants, but I have to tailor them. I'm still trying to find a smooth shirt to go with."

You wrote down some reminder notes giving the rest some time to process anything and get started. Josh sat next to you on one of the couches, pulling out his note journal. He pointed out some of the lyrics, whispering to himself before showing it to you. "I came up with these this morning." your cheeks turned red, though you doubt Josh could see given how dark it was. You read through the lines in each glorious manner. They each had a delicate touch to them, written with something personal

It reminded you of something ethereal. Like being in outer space, and getting to look at all the planets from afar. "What are you thinking?" Josh asked. You let out a short breath before answering. "I think it's good. Really good in fact. I can feel it's personal to you, you know."

Before he could respond, there was a line of curses causing you both to look up. Jake was yelling at himself and the guitar in his hands with a tiny string poking out from the neck of the guitar.

"This fucking piece of shit keeps breaking," he he groaned, with gritted teeth. Rolling your eyes, you went to the other grabbing some new guitar strings. Handing them back Jake, he mumbled out a thank you. "Guess what, it's not that hard to get up and get new strings, Jake. I just did it by myself." Everyone laughed at your taunting to Jake, getting rid of his frustrated mood.

"Well, you're the best." He poked your shoulder. You headed back to another room to think about some more things. Possibly about Josh; but the majority for the band. Really working with them, never gave you time to put yourself out there. Which wasn't a terrible thing. In fact, you preferred not to out. You've always had a one-track mind. Focused too much on one thing, forgetting completely about anything else. It's probably why you'd failed out of most schools during your high school and college career. It always ended up being too much for your brain to handle.

Maybe that's what you feared most. Things always getting in the way; either making you angry, or angry enough to run away and never look back. You didn't want that with Josh. Nor did you want that for this band. You made some more scratch notes, listening to the muffled sound of music. After a while, you doodled in your notebook for some clothing ideas. Stitching had been one of the many skills that stuck with you since when. You never really knew where you learned to do such a thing.

Josh always told you how marvelous your work was. That it belonged in a museum of some sort. He knew somehow that you'd do great things with art. When sketching became boring, you shopped around online for some fabric, and thread, ordering what you needed. When finished some smaller portions of work, you fell back on the couch pushing your hair out of your face. Josh walked in at the right time, pulling you back into the studio.

"We hashed some things out, figured what don't and do want for some of the songs. Think we'll be ready to record in a few weeks." All the boys cheered each other on, pushing each other around. "I think this calls for a celebration over some drinks."

"Great idea. There's a bar a couple of blocks from here. What do you say?" Everyone hummed in agreement, piling out the door. Josh had a hand on your back as he walked you out through all the doors.

When you walked inside there were a few people seated around. It wasn't overbearing crazy. Everyone took a seat at the bar ordering drinks. You had already taken a couple of tequila shots to loosen up for the night. "So tell me," Josh slouched down in his seat. "What do you think the future holds for this band." You giggled, already a little drunk.

"What I think doesn't matter Josh. I think that you'll be successful in whatever you choose to do. I think it's you as the leader to help everyone along. In my opinion, they're here to support you and your ideas. I mean, of course, they have their own input but you get what I'm saying." Josh nodded along, sipping his drink. "That's quite a mouthful, but yeah. I'd do anything for these people. For Christ's sake, three of them are my brothers. And Danny I've known for like ever." He pointed to them, which they were all fighting about something.

Josh shook his head, looking down at the floor. He placed a hand on your shoulder as he left for another drink. Sam soon replaced Josh, slouching in the same position. "What were you two talking about." He waved a finger around your face. To which, you quickly swatted away. "He loves you, Sam. We love you. I love you, Sam."

Sam pursed his lips, squinting his eyes. "You're that drunk already?" You hummed looking at your watch seeing as only twenty minutes had passed. "Well Sam, the night's still young, so I'm willing to get fucking wasted if you are." He quickly nodded his head, ordering the two of you more drinks. As the night went on, all of you managed to play twelve rounds of pool (none of which you won), a game of cards, and meet totally random people. You, including the boys, were completely wasted and it wasn't even one in the morning. Danny and Jake had left to go god knows where, leaving you, Sam, and Josh talking to some random girl at a table. Looking over at Josh, you felt your heart hurt a little.

Sometimes you wish you had the assertiveness that Josh had to talk to him. Deep down you knew he would never reject you. He would randomly bring up why you never got together, but you always dismissed the conversation too scared of what might happen. Sam slipped next to you, turning his chair around to face you. He followed your line of sight, his eyes landing on Josh laughing with the same girl who's been here for hours.

"Look, if it pisses you off that much, talk to him later. It's not like he's gonna hate you for the rest of his life. He practically loves you to death." You shook your head, taking another drink of your beer. "I'm just- I'm not mad- I'll just never be able to be that person who can just randomly walk up to a person and fall 'in love' with them." You cried. Every time you think about it, you just want to go to bed and hide. "But how come I never end up with people like you or Jake or even sweet people like Danny. Why does it have to be Josh?"

Sam sat up in his chair, turning it back around to face the bar. "Why don't you try it. Maybe you fighting inside that big head of yours really doesn't like Josh after all." Sam said as he cradled your face, shaking it around. "Really?" Sam shrugged. "What's the worse that can happen? If something happens, so be it. Never hurts to try anything."

Sam bent down quickly, kissing you softly. His lips felt smooth against yours like running a hand over pliable silk. He swiftly ran a hand through your hair, pulling your face closer to his. Finally, he pulled away, smiling down at you.

"Nope." you shook your head. "Well hey, at least we know." He patted your shoulder, walking away towards a game of cards being played.

The next day you woke up with an intense headache. There was some leftover water and Ibuprofen on your nightstand. You didn't know how you made it back home or really remember anything at all from the night before.

You downed the pill and some water, making your way slowly to the bathroom, balancing yourself on a wall. You turned on the shower letting the hot water settle the uneasiness in your stomach. The pounding inside your head kept going on for what felt like hours. It didn't help either that you were trying so hard to remember the night before. Of course, you knew that you drank more than you could handle. Then there was Sam. But it all stopped there.

The shower helped a little bit. You danced around to find some clothes to get ready, or at least look decent. After getting ready, you drove back to Sam's. When he opened the door, you noticed Jake and Danny were there already. Except for no Josh. Not that it was out of the ordinary, it was just something you expected.

You made your way through his kitchen, pulling out a cigarette. "I don't think you really wanna be smoking that right now." You glared at him before putting the smoke out. "Um, do you remember what happened last night?" You asked, rubbing the small spot on your head in hopes to get rid of the pain. Sam bit into a piece of food, answering with his mouth full. "We kissed. Yeah," he nodded in assurance. "Yeah, we kissed." You let your head fall into your hands, groaning.

"How'd I get home?" Sam hummed, pointing his piece of food at you. "Josh. Although, he seemed pretty pissed at me. You were also super drunk." Right, you thought. Of course, this would happen to you. Partially you blamed yourself for being so stuck-up and bitchy most of the time, but part of you wishes Sam just pushed you away. Why were you so indecisive all the damn time? For once, it would be nice if you could make a whole-hearted decision without going out and fucking everything up.

You scratched around your eye, watching Sam as he went to go sit next to Jake.

4 weeks later. . .

It really had been almost a whole month that you had gone without talking to Josh. Some nights you wish you could pick up your phone and just text him, but you know it would go unnoticed. It hurt just a little bit. Every day you blamed yourself for screwing things up. When was it not your fault that something went wrong?

You sat bored at home. You tried to catch up on different things like laundry, cleaning, reorganizing literally everything, but nothing seemed to work. You muffled curses under your breath at nothing. That was until you got a text from Jake saying that everyone needed your 'strong womanly brain' to work with. Over the four-week period, you hadn't really talked with the other band members except for Danny (who seriously cares for anybody and everything), and Sam who just random stuff.

You flipped through a random magazine, flipping through the pages reading about the different styles and how to flaunt them. That was until a text from Sam disturbed you saying that everyone needed you at the studio ASAP.

You ran to your door faster than ever, quickly putting on your coat and shoes. When you arrived, no one was seen at first, so you went to the back and everyone was gathered around in a large, huddled circle. Jake was the first to greet you, Sam following close behind.

"Hey! I haven't seen you in a long time." Jake towered over you, pulling you into his side. "Yeah, my mom called. Wanted me to go see her." you lied, looking at Sam, who had just turned in the other direction. "Well, I hope she's doing good. Look, I wanted to see your opinion on some things. Just general stuff, okay?" you nodded. He led you back to a table and passed some papers around, and a little CD that had pre-recorded music. Before any of you could speak though, a door creaked loudly, and out came Josh with a petite girl beside him. His smile immediately disappeared when his eyes landed on you.

The girl looked. . . nice. In other words, she looked like a pleasant enough girl Josh would pick from a crowd. She had a tan, rich skin like his. With wavy, brown hair. Unlike Josh, she had more hazel-green eyes. Everyone stood there awkwardly, looking around at each other. You scratched the top of your head, eyes facing down towards the table. Jake cleared his throat before grabbing a seat for Josh, and the girl.

And of course, to make more room they were both seated in between you and Jake, making her sit right next to you. You smiled nervously towards her as she got herself situated. For a while, you stared at the velvet walls as Jake led on the conversation. You felt a little poke on your arm and noticed she was trying to talk to you.

"Hi, I'm Logan," she whispered. The one thing you noticed about Logan was her smile. It reminded you of Josh. His naturally bright teeth could make anyone instantly happier. "Y/N," you said curtly. You weren't the one to start a conversation, but luckily she made it easy.

"So, how do you know Josh?" she asked, pointing to him. You played around with your nails, turning to look at her. "Uh, I work for him," Not 'I'm his best friend or anything. Totally just ruined the relationship I had by kissing his younger brother because I'm really in love with the man your dating' "And them too, of course." you gave a hesitant laugh, pointing to the rest of them. She bit her lip, turning to listen to the conversation, and then back to you.

"How long have you known all of them, or like worked for them I guess?"

"Around three years. This will be my fourth I think." she nodded with your answer. Finally, she turned back around to listen to what Josh was saying.

You looked back down at the disc, swirling it around on the table. This is hard, you thought. It's all you can think about. Logan's so kind towards you; not the weirdly hostile type. She's not annoying, not inconclusive about anything. Logan's perfect in her own way. She's perfect to Josh. Something you've always wanted, but you, yourself stopped you from having.

"So, uh Y/N, can you take a listen to the CD?" Jake asked you. "Yeah. It'll just be a little later though. I have to finish some other stuff." There was silence as everyone stared at you. Including Josh, who seemed to have a permanent look on you.

"I can listen; if you're busy," Logan speaking up caught you by surprise. It may have angered you a bit because that was your job, to listen. You just looked back at Sam anxiously, who shook his head at you.

"Oh, my bad," Josh said loudly. "This is my girlfriend- Logan. Who you have all met before, but not Y/N. Forgot to introduce you two." If everyone hadn't been in the room right now, you would've gotten up and hit him right across the head. Logan kindly smiled back at you. "Yeah, we were talking earlier," She said pointing to you. "Well, as I said, I can listen if you can't."

If it was anybody else, you would've said something back already. But who were you to yell at this kind, beautiful woman next to you? Though, Sam must've read you wrong since quietly grabbed your wrist. "Sure," you said, handing the CD to Logan. Sitting back in your chair, defeated, what else were you supposed to do?

Another lousy week passed, and you wanted to jump off a roof. It had been raining for the past few days, never letting up once. No one had really made contact with you except Danny (you secretly loved him to death), and Sam. You were pretty sure the rest had picked up on the tense atmosphere and didn't want to bother you. No doubt, you probably wouldn't want to speak with yourself either.

You shrugged off a sweater, playing with the end of your sheets. Life was so boring now without any entertainment from anyone. You eventually rolled over on your back, staring a hole into the ceiling. You went over every excuse and explanation you could give to Josh. You understood why he was mad, you figured that much. But sometimes you wish he had his smart wisdom back to understand you better.

You fell to the floor sometime later, reading something random off the shelf. You flipped through the pages mindlessly before you heard some knocking at your door. You ran quickly, opening the door to find Sam standing there with bottles of gin and tequila in his hand. Laughing quietly, you led him inside, finding some bottles for drinks.

"What brings you around?" you raised your eyebrows, pouring some tequila for you and Sam. "Josh," he cleared his throat, taking a few sips. "What about Josh?" Trying to hold your breath, made you curious as to why Josh's younger brother was so angry at him. In fact, you wanted to burst out laughing. "He's so stubborn with everything, and the way he talks about you. God- it's like- I've never seen so much hatred from him." Sam shook his head downing the rest of his drink. He poured some more in his cup and your cup.

You took Sam's hand leading him to your room. You put on Labi Siffre, an old, classic album. You also turned on one of your dim colored lights. They lit up Sam's cheekbones perfectly, making his pale skin glow flawlessly. It looked smooth enough to run a finger over and feel the gentle, velvety skin of Sam.

"How does he talk about me?" Sam closed his eyes, thinking. "He just doesn't let go of the subject. Anytime you or I come up, it's just this rage of fury from him. He almost shuts down essentially. You know," he burped. "They all went out tonight."

You hummed at that. "They all went out, leaving behind you and me." You scoffed at the thought of Josh with Logan at your favorite bar or restaurant. "I'm so sorry Sam." You rubbed his arm, looking down at the floor next to your bed. "That was you and your brother's relationship, and I just," you flicked your hands, making a whoosh sound. Sam laughed, leaning into your side. "Don't worry about it. I like helping you out. Josh can be a little much sometimes."

You elbowed him in the side thinking about something. "Hey whatever happened to the girl from the music shop? You ever talk to her lately?"

"Yeah," he huffed out. "We've been talking lately. She wants to meet up sometime soon, but I don't know." You cocked your head to the side. "Why not. You clearly like her and she really likes you. I don't remember when the last time some actually liked you." Sam pretended he was hurt, pushing you to the side. "I'll ask her sometime when I'm not busy. She's nice."

"And pretty?" you questioned. Sam let out a laugh, swirling the alcohol in his cup. "Very pretty." You both let out sighs sitting in comfortable silence. Although, your mind was occupied with thoughts of Josh, swirling around and never-ending. There were times you just wanted to get up and say fuck it and try to at least explain. But of course, the rejection of him never wanting to be your friend again would kill you. Maybe this was the universe's cruel way of saying you and Josh were never meant to be together in the first place.

If so, you hated it.

Surprisingly, Sam was the first to wake up. Which rarely happens considering how well you knew him. The poor boy slept through everything. He started shaking you awake, poking and tickling your sides. "Are you dead, jeez?" You quickly rubbed your eyes, sitting up. "Sorry, the alcohol must've really knocked me out." Sam stifled a yawn, sitting on the edge of your bed. "Well, we can do one of two things today," he noted. "We can either go to the studio and face my brother, or we can- do nothing else. That's really it. I kind of swore I would be there today."

You couldn't stay inside any longer. You decided against the greater good to tag along with Sam. Maybe you could talk with Josh, and clear the air. "Can I go with you?" Sam nodded feverishly. "Of course; that's like your job."

"It doesn't feel like it. Logan's pretty much taking over, so what's the point of me." You scoffed thinking of the mellow girl who seemed to get along with everyone. You hated to slander her, but you just wanted Josh back. You and Sam left in a rush, hastily driving to the studio. You walked inside with a cigarette dangling from your lips, smoke escaping through your nose. Sweat seeped from your palms making you excited and nervous at the same time. You felt like an outsider coming in on your job. Thinking about seeing Josh made it worse.

"Hello, Hello Y/N" Danny strutted over, hairs sticking to his forehead. He pulled you in for a tight hug, nearly suffocating you. "Hey, Daniel." you moved the hairs around his face so you could see him better. "Long time, no see, man." He laughed walking back to his seat behind the drum kit. You followed Sam to the other rooms where Jake and Josh might be hiding. Sure enough, Josh was standing next to his twin, listening to a riff he was playing. They immediately stopped talking to each other. Josh scoffed at you as Sam led you inside, beside him.

"Look what the cat dragged in!" Josh said it lowly, spitting it towards you. Your eyes looked down, not daring to ever lookup. "Hey Josh," Sam patted him on the shoulder. You looked awkwardly around the room looking for a means to escape. When you realized there wasn't one, you looked back at Josh. He quietly talked to Jake about something before turning to you. You tried to look away fast enough, but his eyes caught yours. Josh started to stalk close to you, exhaling a breath. "Hey," you thought he might've not heard you, but his response caught you off guard.

"Hey, Y/N" He sniffled a little bit before turning towards you. "Care to take a walk with me? Could use some fresh air." You nodded your head silently, following after him. If your anxiety hadn't kicked in yet, it sure as hell did now. Josh was never a person to scare you. He was too light and giddy for him to be somewhat freighting.

He walked slightly behind you with a hand on the small of your back. Josh eventually let go of you when you both made it to the sidewalk. The people around you made the silence slightly more comfortable but you wished you had something to think about other than Josh. After a few more moments of silence, you decided to speak up, but Josh beat you to it. "I'm sorry for being an ass," he cleared it all out on one breath. You scoffed at him. "I think you were being more than an ass, Josh." He suddenly slowed his walking to match your pace.

"You pretty much left me in the wind. I thought I lost my best friend," you nudged him softly in the ribcage, laughing. He held a hand over his chest, heaving out a relieved breath. "I thought you were going to hate me forever." You pointed at him before saying: "Pull anything like that again, and I'll do more than just hate you forever."

Josh held his hands up abruptly like you had caught him stealing something. "I promise." You smirked. The both of you walked around endlessly making small talk here and there. Part of you was glad that you and Josh had cleared the air. Although, you hadn't really talked with him about Sam. It embarrassed you just thinking about the whole situation.

After you made a full round of the streets, Josh walked you back inside the studio. It was hours before anyone ever got to go home. The moon had fully risen and was shining brightly in the sky. You stared up like a child, holding on tightly to your coat. When you were making your way towards Sam's car Josh had grabbed you by the elbow.

"Y/N," Josh fiddled around with the collar of his jacket, looking down at the concrete. Even though it was pitch black outside, you could tell Josh's face was heating up. "I was wondering if you wanted to come back with me? I know Sam was taking you home, but I still feel like we need to talk." A small smile started to quickly form. You nodded not thinking about the harm that could come from staying with Josh.

"Yeah, sure." you let a hesitant sigh before following him once more. When you arrived inside Josh's home it felt almost foreign. There were slightly disheveled things around, but nothing had really changed. It still had all the same scattered records on the coffee table as well as random books set around the countertops. Josh flipped on the light switch and went towards the kitchen. He came back out and handed you a cup of water before taking off his coat.

"I know, it's been a long time since we spoke," he started. "or even hung out together."

You nodded, sipping some of the water. "Yeah, I kind of missed that."

After you and Josh got situated, he led you back to his room. There was a dim lamp, along with some new fairy lights scattered around the ceiling. "Fairy lights?" You pointed to the little bulbs sparkling brightly. "Oh, yeah," Josh was picking out a record, finally placing it on the player. It was an album you hadn't heard before, but it seemed to fit the mood well enough. Looking around for a little bit longer you come to find some old pictures on the floor. Squatting down, you noticed they were photos of his brothers and Daniel when they were younger. But what really caught your attention was a stack neatly dedicated to you.

Some of the photos had showcased some of you and Josh's late adventures, and the concerts you had appeared to. One in particular in which Josh had his arms wrapped around your middle, seated around a bonfire. That was a night you remember very clearly. That was when you realized how much you loved Josh. He never left your side and coddled you close to him. The memory warmed your heart making it beat a tiny bit faster.

"That was a very hot summer night if I remember correctly." Josh peered over your shoulder, studying the picture. "Yeah, it was. Then I passed out inside the van right after that," you laughed loudly, tossing your head back. Running a finger over your face in the picture still reminiscing on the sweet memory, you could feel Josh watching you from across the room.

"Can you come up here for a sec?" Josh patted his mattress, motioning to you. You could tell he was nervous still when he started to fumble around with his nails, not making much eye contact. "Do you remember when I asked you why you envied me so much?" He let out a slow breath, nudging you a little bit with his elbow. You realized the change in the situation and started to mirror his nervous tics.

"Yeah, I just- wish I could carry myself like you. You're always the most confident person in the room; you know things Josh that no one could ever know." The two of you sat in silence for a little bit after you answered. Josh hesitated before speaking again but continued on after pondering for a bit. "Well, I never felt that way around you. For the longest time, I would beat myself up just thinking about how wonderful you are Y/N. The way you think of me is how I always thought of you. Just not as confident because of how quiet you are sometimes." He laughed out the last part making you smile back.

"God, sometimes I just want to cry because of how amazing you are Y/N. Everything you've done for this band, everything you've done for me; I just - I love you." You slowly turned your head to look at Josh, replaying the words over and over again in your head.

He loves you.

"I'm going to assume you mean in it in that way Josh or this would be very embarrassing." Josh snickered, putting both hands on the side of your face. "I mean it in every way possible." He finally pressed his lips to yours, feeling the velvet touch of each other. Josh ran his fingers through your hair, pressing his tongue in an open-mouthed kiss. You moaned quietly when he started to press kisses along your jaw, down to your neck. You could feel his hands start to travel down to your waist, hugging you tightly as it showed in the picture.

Josh continued to bite down on your skin and sucked, leaving bright red marks behind. His fingers squeezed down on your hips before traveling under your shirt. He placed a knee between your legs, pushing you further into the mattress. You looked at each other momentarily as Josh slipped you out of your shirt. He ran his hands over your stomach making you flinch at the sudden touch.

"Josh," His name came out as a whine as Josh slipped off your bra, throwing it towards the floor. You caught the look of awe when his eyes landed on your breasts, your chest heaving slightly. He returned to kissing down your neck making his way down your collar bone. Your hands made their way to his hair, tugging at it when his mouth made contact with your nipple.

He sucked gently, swirling his tongue around the hardened bud. All you could think about was the euphoric thoughts running through your brain. All you could see were stars, showing up in random directions making you lost in the feeling. Josh continued for a while before slowly traveling down to your legs.

Josh looked at you for approval, to which you vaguely nodded in return, before pulling off your pants. You shuddered at the delicate touch of his fingers ghosting along your skin. His hands traveled back up your calves, pressing at your thighs. The room suddenly became too hot as his fingers wrapped around the strap of your underwear, pulling them down your legs. Your breathing was so ragged by now that you thought Josh might've pointed it out already, but he continued to stare down at you with the most mesmerizing look in his eyes. You knew at this point if this had been anyone else, you probably would've wanted to hide under the bed. Something so comforting about Josh made it feel natural to in his grasps.

Josh started down at your ankles, pressing hard kisses up your legs. He hovered over your pelvis just before kissing around your clit. Your legs immediately started to close at the feeling, but his hand pushed them back farther. "Josh, oh my god!" You moaned out into nothing. He continued sucking hard on your clit making the stars in your head come closer to earth.

"Josh, please," Your hands pulled at his curls as he lapped around your center. "You're so fucking wet for me Y/N. Jesus," He moaned into your heat making you squirm on the bed.

"Please Josh, use your fingers, please." You whined mercilessly at the thought of coming around his fingers. It wasn't long before you felt two fingers drag inside of you, along with the feeling of him sucking your clit. You could feel yourself getting nearer to your orgasm as he curled his fingers against your g-spot. "Josh, don't fucking stop!"

At the perfect moment, everything seemed to fall apart in the most beautiful way. You leaned your head back into the pillow as your vision turned white with little black dots appearing randomly. Josh's breath fanned over your heat before he stood up to take off some of his clothes.

"Can't really have sex if I'm still dressed like I'm going to fucking prom or something, Jesus." You giggled loudly while you watched him crawl back over you. Josh pressed a soft kiss to your lips, grinding his hips against you. Your hand slowly ran over his chest, grabbing onto his belt. You fumbled around until you managed to get it undone along with his pants. Josh stared at your face, admiring your features. "I don't think I'll be able to take you seriously for much longer if you don't do something," you whispered.

"Oh yeah?" Josh raised an eyebrow, smiling at you. You slowly reached past his briefs making contact with his hard-on, causing him to moan quietly and start kissing you again.

"Uh, I don't think I have any condoms on me; I didn't really envision fucking you tonight." You smirked, wrapping your arms around his neck. "It's okay. I'm on the pill." You pulled his underwear down, hiking your legs around his hips loosely. You could feel yourself getting wetter as he passively rolled his forefinger over your clit. You kissed him hard, sucking on his tongue. "Fuck me, please," you begged. Josh looked deeply into your eyes, then grabbing your legs and wrapping them around his hips, tightly. He teased you, rubbing himself up and down your center.

You exhaled as he entered you, wrapping a hand around his bicep to steady yourself. Josh's head fell into your neck, feeling his warm breath as he trusted in slowly. He lifted his head to kiss you; He used his hand to move the hairs out of your face, wrapping it around your cranium. "You are so- prepossessing." He whispered, his thrust becoming faster.

Your nails dug into his shoulder blades after he set such a brutal pace that you didn't think you'd be able to keep up with. You took note of how his curls stuck to his forehead. Whenever he thrust in, you could feel yourself getting closer and closer. His thrust started to shake the bed only spurring you on more. Your hands grabbed at his torso, holding onto him tightly.

"Josh," you breathed out, words lost as they left your mouth. "Don't stop." Josh looked between your bodies as they pressed together. He thrust in deep, pressing you into the bed further. You cursed under your breath, trying to hold back the moans only releasing small high-pitched whines. Your head fell back against the pillow, all the tension releasing your body slowly. "Fuck," Josh moaned into your collarbone. He tightened his grip on your thigh, quickening his thrusts.

You ran your fingers along the nape of his neck, feeling the little hairs stick to his body. Josh moaned, feeling him cum deep inside you. His head fell into your neck as you both tried to catch your breath. Josh smiled, pressing kisses to your chest before laying down next to you.

"Fuck you're amazing," Josh mumbled into your ear. He wrapped an arm around your shoulder pulling your head to his chest. His hands ran down your arm, squeezing the tiny bit of flesh. "Tell me something I don't already know Joshua." You flipped over onto your side, Josh following in pursuit. He tightened his arm once more around your stomach this time. He pressed small kisses along your shoulder, laying his face into your hair.

"I love you," He mumbled.

"I love you too." You placed your hand over his, peace finding you easy tonight.

When you woke up the next morning, Josh still had you in his arms, snoring softly. Like you, he liked to get up when it was still dark out, but given last night you couldn't blame either of yourselves for wanting to sleep in. Josh woke up sometime after, pressing small kisses into the nape of your neck down to your shoulder blades.

"Good morning," he said quietly, wrapping his legs around yours, pulling his body closer to yours.

"Morning Josh." You closed your eyes allowing the quiet of the room to comfort you. It seemed pretty peaceful outside, from what you could hear at least. But your mind was running a thousand miles a minute. How did a three-year friendship change so drastically? If someone told you that three years later you'd be sleeping with Josh, you probably start cursing them out at the bare minimum. Josh infuriated you at the beginning, but what changed that you couldn't get enough? Maybe it was his style? Everyone loves Josh's style. He doesn't really care what goes together, as long as it fits him and his outrageous personality. Speaking of which, Josh's personality was unspoken of. People turned heads when he walked through doors because he was always the life of the party. Normal people just naturally gravitate towards him. Heck, you couldn't even keep up the 'holding a grudge' façade for too long because Josh helped you. Maybe you thanked him for that instead.

"I think we need to get up," you said, patting his hand. He protested that you two keep sleeping longer because it's too early. "Josh it's like," you squinted your eyes towards the clock. "Nine am." You yelled, pushing his arm of you.

You ran into the bathroom to pee before jumping in the shower. After taking some time cleaning yourself and changing into something more comfortable (which ended up being one of Josh's old college sweatshirts because he insisted you looked really good in them) you both left to the studio. Of course, the first one to greet you was your favorite out of the four, Daniel. After he finished talking with Josh, he led the both of you to a back room. It was a large decorated room that you hadn't really been in much. The walls were in stripes of inverted red along with carpet having a velvet touch to it. Plaques labeled the wall with other types of scandalous music art.

Jake and Sam walked in together already arguing about something. "Lookey here," Jake pulled you into a side hug, and Sam passed you a drink. "I thought my smoking habits were bad, but drinking at ten in the morning?" you tutted Sam away from you, taking a seat at a large table. "It helps me think more clearly."

Josh took a seat next to you, placing a hand on your thigh. "Hey, you never showed me the finish drawing for your clothing ideas." You raised your eyebrows and said: "I wonder why." You cocked your head to the side, and Josh frowned at you. Snickering to yourself, you handed him a sketchbook. "These are- really good, Y/N. I forgot you could draw so well." You doodled around the paper of a sketched-out Josh in what would be fashion attire for next year. "One of my many hobbies."

He patted your leg before turning his attention to his twin. Sam waltzed over to your side, a cigarette hanging from his lips. "Is that my brother's sweatshirt?" You glared at him before answering a subtle yes. Sam gasped in a fake manner, holding a hand across his heart.

"Are you two in love with each other finally?" Sam laughed at you giving him a side-eye. "Good. you make Josh happy." Content with that, he left to go sit next to Danny. You played around with the drawing some more, later on, moving to a computer to work there. Everyone left you alone to go play in another room which seems to help numb the background noise. Though, it didn't last long until Josh walked through the door. He strutted over to you, rubbing a hand on your back before sitting down.

"How's it goin' in there?" You closed the laptop, turning your attention towards him. Josh talked about how everything's coming along nicely, and Jake is stubborn about everything or how Sam is always messing up. You hummed, following along. Not that you would ever tell Josh, but sometimes you never would really listen to what he was saying, but you loved to watch his hand movements or the expressions on his face. It added to his character. "I meant to ask you some time ago, but uh- whatever happened to Logan?" Josh immediately froze, looking down to the floor like a scolded puppy.

"I told her I would talk to her later this week." You shook your head, crossing your arms. "What?"

"Nothing; I was just thinking we wouldn't be in this mess if it weren't for me oodling with your brother." Josh laughed at your choice of words, placing his hand softly on yours. "I think it was both us Y/N."

'Well, in my defense Sam is kind of hot now that I think about it." Josh slapped your shoulder. "Mmmm, you're right Sam does have that 'sense' to him." Time seemed to fly by the five of you, constantly arguing, laughing, or just goofing off with each other. It felt good to be back with everybody, and not walking around on eggshells. Sometimes the moment was so pleasant, you never wanted it to end.

It was eerily quiet when you walked inside Josh's home. It was nighttime, and the moon was full, shining brightly through the curtains. "Don't you ever wish you could see the stars?" Josh asked randomly.

"Light pollution man," He mumbled out, yeah, heading towards his bedroom. You peeked outside the window one more time, catching a glimpse of the clouds in the sky. Josh had changed into some comfier clothing and slid under the covers. You followed in pursuit, still wearing his old college t-shirt. "Where do you think we'll be in ten years?" The question had taken you by surprise. You knew he had a tendency to think a lot about the future, which was kind of admirable, but you had a hard time figuring out what the future would hold for you.

"That's hard to tell; Not unless I kill you first, but uh, I think we'll still be together, and so will the band. I guess it's just up to the rest of us." Josh hummed at your input. He flipped over on his side to look at you. "I hope we're together forever." Your face started to blush, although you doubt Josh could see, this time you wished he did.

"Me too." Your voice came out with full confidence knowing every ounce of you could never let him go. "Hey, do you think you'd ever let me wear your outfits after this next tour? They're kind of stylish if I say so myself." Josh laughed out loud. "I don't think they'd fit you, honey." You scoffed, pouting.

"Josh, I hate to break it to you but you're not that big." A playful laugh escaped your mouth while you pinched his arm. He pushed you back in return. "I meant your height." He shook his head. You turned around, allowing Josh to trap you in his arms.

"I hope I get to see you in heaven. If there is one." The sound of his voice made you want to cry. It was soft whisper that it felt so delicate at this moment.

"I think if you've seen me then, you will see me forever."

#greta van fleet #josh kiszka #sam kiskza #jake kiszka #danny wagner #jake gvf #josh kiszka x reader

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quokkacore · 4 years ago

Text

everywhere at the end of time | z.cl

summary: in his old age, chenle can’t remember any of it anymore. but you do. you do, and it burns.

pairing: zhong chenle x fem!reader

genre: ANGST, fluff, slice of life, parents au

warnings: dementia, themes of grief, depression, language, suggestive content, period typical sexism, mentions of domestic abuse (not from chenle!), traditional gender roles, body image, kind of implied postpartum depression

word count: 3.8k

a/n: this was inspired by the caretaker’s everywhere at the end of time, a compilation of albums meant to simulate memory loss from dementia when listened to in one sitting. i listened to half of it yesterday, and it was so haunting i needed to write about it. if you decide to listen to it, please be careful. several analyses i’ve seen about it talk about how it can be very emotionally distressing. i personally didn’t feel too upset by it, but be aware.

There was a boy who smiled at you once, from across a dance hall. Long, long ago. His grin, boyish and playful, made your face heat up and your body turn to giggle to your friends. And then, suddenly, he was walking over to you, and reaching out his hand to you. He didn’t seem nervous at all. He looked like he had not a care in the world, as if life were a calm ocean with soft winds and he were a sailboat.

“My name’s Chenle,” He’d said, speaking loudly over the music, “Wanna dance?”

Swing was the thing back then. You barely had time to tell him your name before he pulled you onto the dancefloor and spun you around like there was no tomorrow. You were quite literally swept off of your feet, flying across the hardwood floor as the two of you laughed and danced. When the song was over, you were out of breath. You weren’t quite sure if it was because of how hard you’d danced or because he managed to steal your breath and your heart within a matter of minutes.

Up until then, you were damn sure that love at first sight was impossible. But you were suddenly very sure that love at first dance existed. You’d tell that story for years to come. How you danced a few more songs, how he took you to the side and you spent the next hour or so talking. How your girls tried to tug you away, saying that it was getting late, but you simply didn’t want to leave. You were hooked on him, and he was hooked on you. He begged to see you again, and you very quickly found a napkin and a pen to scratch down your home phone number on.

You said you’d wait for his call, and had left with a lovestruck look on your face. The entire way home, the girls didn’t let you hear the end of it. That he seemed sweet, he was quite the dancer, and my, was he handsome. You probably looked like a fool, mind turning to mush at how gentle his hands were on his waist, how contagious his laugh was, how tentatively he’d listened to you speak.

Once. Long, long ago. It’s all just a burning memory, now.

There was a boy who kissed you, once. It’d been a few months after you’d met. He’d been careful, and you’d bided your time. When he called for the first time, he was very respectful when your father had picked up. The two of you spoke for however long your parents allowed it, talking about anything, everything.

Childhood stories of how he got the scars on his knees. Times you’d gotten into trouble at school. How you were both turning 18, and how adult responsibilities were starting to set in. How Chenle was set to inherit his father’s business and he was terrified of failure. How you desperately wanted to study but your parents wouldn’t let you, because men don’t like it when girls are smarter, and how would you have time to find a husband if you had your nose stuck in books all day long?

Desperately, you both needed a break. Your parents let him take you out because he was a Zhong, and the Zhongs had money, and because he seemed quite taken by you. That was exactly what they wanted.

Chenle was a gentleman first and foremost when he stepped into your home. He spoke with your father about politics while he waited for you to finish getting ready, complimented your mother, and opened the front door for you as you were leaving, promising to have you back by ten o’clock.

One date turned to two, two to three. On the fifth date, when he took you on a walk in the park, he took you to the gazebo to sit on a bench in it. The birds were chirping, and you felt content, despite the dull ache in your feet because of your heels.

Chenle looked down, before meeting your gaze. “I wanted to ask you something,” He murmured. You tilted your head to the side, uncrossing your legs.

“What is it?”

He took your hand in his, leaning closer. “I really like you,” He admitted, “And I wanna be with you. You’re sweet, and fun, and you’re so beautiful. I think about you all damn day, and I think I’d die without you here.”

He smiled fondly, those dimples making an appearance once again. “Be my girl, maybe?”

Your heart did a backflip, and your yes had tumbled from your lips before you could even really think about it.

And then finally, on your seventh date, when he’d taken you to a bookstore and bought you a book about the Amazon rainforest, he kissed you in his car. He tasted like mint and his lips were hard against yours, but not forceful. Like he’d been waiting eons to kiss you and now he simply couldn’t hold himself back anymore. His hands held your face the entire time.

When you pulled away, you no longer saw a boy in front of you. You saw a young man in his place, watching you with reverence and desire.

“I’ve been waiting to do that ever since I first laid eyes on you,” Chenle whispered.

“Well then, don’t just sit there,” You answered, nuzzling your face into his hands, “Kiss me again.”

Kiss you he did. The memory feels like a dream, a sweet one at that. A bit fuzzy but you can recall the softness of his hands if you think about it hard enough.

It’s a memory. Sixty something years later, at least you still have it.

There was a man who teared up at the sight of you in white, once.

He asked you to marry him a year and a half later. Your parents loved him, because he was kind and respectful and rich. His parents tolerated you, because you didn’t talk back too much and your family was respectable enough. Of course you accepted. Who cared about what your parents thought? You adored this man, with his high pitched laugh and his cheeky words. He worshipped the ground you walked on, with your caring attitude and your loving smile.

You were shaking the whole time, trembling like a wet chihuahua on a winter day as your father walked you down the aisle. You watched as his best man, Jisung, whispered something to him, and he nodded, blinking furiously. He looked awestruck, mouth agape and eyes glossy.

When your father left you at the front of the altar with Chenle, your lover squeezed your hand. “I love you so much,” He whispered to you, just before the ceremony could officially begin.

For the first time ever, you saw Zhong Chenle get nervous. His voice was shaking slightly, and you could make out a single drop of sweat on his forehead. You squeezed his hand reassuringly, unable to say anything back as the officiant began the ceremony. He knew what you meant.

Your vows were the traditional cookie cutter vows, the good old fashioned “I do”s. You didn’t care. You knew you’d whisper your own vows to him later tonight. You knew he would do the same.

After that, you danced the night away. Drunk on champagne and love for each other, you could barely remember the party. Jisung gave a lovely speech. You knew that the band played the song you’d first danced to on that one fateful night. Your girls danced with his boys, and he pressed kisses to your cheeks and the top of your head.

You remembered what came after better, after everyone went home. Chenle stole you away to the honeymoon suite to peel your dress off, take off your veil and press kisses onto your hips, and whisper promises of everlasting love against your neck.

That’s all gone now. Even though it’s gone, you’re glad. Because years later, you remember. You look at the faded photographs in the scrapbooks and remember the moment they were taken. They’re all you have now. Because even though Chenle is still in your home, he isn’t Chenle.

There was a man who had taken care of you, once. You’d had your doubts about love, about married life. All of them stemmed from your parents’ marriage. Late night arguments, slamming doors, hands laid on your mother that left her reaching for foundation to hide the bruises during the day. Chenle was there to cast most of them to the side.

Most of them, because no matter how much you love each other, marriage is never a walk in the park. You tried to study. Chenle was paying for your education, much to his parents’ disapproval. Three years into your marriage, and two years into your studies, you got pregnant. Chenle was ecstatic. You, not so much.

It was hard for you. Your body changed, it became hard for you to concentrate. You ended up dropping out because it was simply too much for your mind to handle.

A few months later and you were recovering, trying to adjust to not getting any sleep and having to take care of a tiny human and the house all day while Chenle was off at work. And he doesn’t just want one, he wants two more.

“God, Lele, at least wait until Jiali can sleep on her own,” You huffed, trying not to be too loud. You had finally managed to get your daughter to sleep after a particularly fussy day, and if she woke up now, you were pretty sure you’d start crying too.

“But why not?” He asked, sitting down. “Don’t you want to give Jiali brothers and sisters to grow up with?”

“I do,” You answered, trying to ignore the throbbing in your head. “But I’m too tired to handle another pregnancy right now. It’s way too much, Chenle.”

Chenle sighed, resting his face on his chin. “It can’t be that hard—”

“Are you joking?” You snapped, standing up, “I’m awake in the morning to make you breakfast and feed Jiali. Once you’re off, I have to make the bed, change her diapers, clean the floors and the bathroom. I have to make sure Jiali isn’t getting into trouble and figure out why she’s crying—and she cries so much, Chenle! I haven’t gotten a full night’s sleep since before she was born. I barely have time to take care of myself, much less another baby. I make breakfast, lunch, and dinner, and tend to the garden, and bathe her when she gets dirty, and—”

“Y/N, I think you should—”

“I can’t handle another baby!” You cried, “I can’t, I won’t!”

A high pitched wail rang from the nursery, and all the fight you had in you drained instantly. You hadn’t realized how loud you were being.

“I’ll be right back,” You murmured, voice breaking. Before you could walk towards the nursery, a gentle hand on your wrist pulled you back. Chenle’s gaze had softened, cupping your cheek and wiping at a tear you hadn’t realized had fallen.

“No, I’ll go,” He said quietly. “You go clean yourself up. Take a nap, I’ll make sure she gets back to sleep."

You didn't have it in you to argue.

About an hour later, he stepped into the bedroom, where you were curled up on the bed. You weren't asleep. He sat down on the other side of the bed, caressing your arm.

"I'm sorry," He whispered, bowing his head. "I wasn't thinking straight. I just got so excited at the thought of us finally having a family, I forgot to think about how you were doing. If you don't want anymore kids—"

"Lele," You murmured, "Of course I want to keep building our family. But I need time. I'm always so tired now. Let's wait until Jiali is off to school and then try for another one. I'm begging you."

He leaned over you, and pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. "Whatever works best for you," He answered.

You kept your promise. Once Jiali was off to preschool, you got pregnant a few months later. By the beginning of next year, you had a baby boy—Yanlin.

This time, Chenle was more mindful of your wellbeing. He came home from work earlier, helped out around the house, told you to go out with the girls every now and then.

Over the years, you had one last child, a girl named Mei. The kids were more than a few handfuls, but the two of you managed.

Things were by no means easy. There were nights when Chenle decided to sleep on the couch because of a disagreement that had grown into something bigger. Insecurities about your body that grew into jealousy of his secretary, who was younger, more beautiful. Issues with the in laws as the both of you had problems setting solid boundaries.

But at the end of the day, he was your everything. This life you'd built for yourself made it all worth fighting for. You saw it when he tossed Mei up into the air, catching her as she giggled, "Again, daddy, do it again!"

Or when he talked to Jiali about the family business, how if she wanted, he'd teach her everything. When he helped Yanlin get back to sleep after he'd had a nightmare, singing him to sleep with that soft, gentle voice of his. When he looked at you from across the dinner table, years of domesticity and love growing into all of this.

Chenle was your home, the father of your children, a pillar you leaned on when things got difficult. You were the same to him. No argument could take that away.

The kids grew up and went to college. Much to your father in law's dismay, Yanlin didn't care much about the family business, while Jiali did—he hated how Chenle encouraged them to do what they wanted instead of pushing the status quo.

Times were changing. More and more women went to college, and you wanted for your daughters what you yourself weren't allowed to have: a good education, a professional career.

Since time flies like birds migrating for the winter, soon all of the kids were grown up, and you and Chenle were left in an empty house. By then, the two of you had started to change, too. Gray hairs started sprouting from your heads. Your backs started to hurt with more frequency. Your faces were starting to sag.

And still, you loved each other. You found new things to do with this new freedom. You read more books, spent more time in the garden. Chenle started singing around the house more, something he didn't even realize he was doing.

When you turned fifty, Chenle took you on vacation to Malta, and Chenle decided to officially announce his retirement, handing the business to your oldest. From here on out, the two of you had time to simply do whatever you wished. Chenle had saved a lot of money over the years, allowing the two of you to live comfortably.

Your kids married, and had kids of their own, and the two of you spoiled as much as you could. You'd bake cookies with your grandkids and spend the holidays telling them stories of your youth. Their favorite story was how you met their grandfather, and you fluffed the story up to make them laugh.

"He was the handsomest man I'd ever seen," You told him, "Tall, sweet, funny, the best shincracker I'd ever danced with."

"What's a shincracker?" One of your grandkids asked. You blinked, before letting out a fake sob, raising your head up.

"I'm so old," You wailed, the kids giggling at your theatrics. When you looked down, you smiled. "In my day, that's what you called someone who danced very well."

The four of them ohhh-ed in unison, and someone in the kitchen doorway laughed. "So, I was the best shincracker you'd ever danced with, huh?"

"Honey, I've told you that a million times!"

He walked over to you, patting the heads of your grandkids as he passed them. "Your grandma looked so surprised when I asked her to dance," He said to the children, "But she was the prettiest dame there that night, I couldn't not dance with her."

"What's a dame?"

Chenle stared at you, eyes wide. He lowered his head. "God, we're old!"

Now, most of your grandkids have grown up, and barely have time to visit. But you have the photographs hung up on the wall, of past birthdays, holiday parties, of your wedding.

They work to help you remember. But now, Chenle can't even get out of bed to look at them.

There was an old man who'd broken down in front of you, once. He'd been having trouble remembering where things were, like his keys and his glasses. Initially, it didn't worry you, since you'd been having similar issues. You only started to worry when one night at dinner, you brought up the fact that Mei had called to ask the two of you to dinner next week. He'd looked confused, and stared at you like you were from outer space.

"Who's Mei?"

You scheduled a doctor's appointment the very next day. It took about two months for everything to reach the same conclusion: early dementia. Chenle had gotten very quiet as the doctor handed you some pamphlets on treatments and the different stages. The whole drive home, he said nothing.

It was only once you got home that he sat down on the bed and crumbled to pieces. You walked over to him, and caressed his hair when he pressed his face into your stomach.

"I don't want to forget," He sobbed, "I don't want to."

He tried to fight it. Once the family knew, everyone started visiting more frequently. In the beginning, he could remember your grandchildren's names. Jobs and school were a bit difficult but there were eleven of them—it was hard for you, too.

On the occasion he did forget someone, it frustrated him. He'd have to excuse himself from the table for a few minutes, and the energy in the dining room would change completely. Suddenly everyone was aware of the ticking clock, and your family was starting to crumble.

You wanted desperately to hold it together, to super glue it and force it back into place. But so many things were out of your control, on top of Chenle's diagnosis. Mei was going through a divorce. Your youngest grandson, Lijie, was having behavioral problems and Yanlin looked to you for advice.

Chenle tried to hold on. You watched your husband pore endlessly over the family photos, trying to place names to the faces. He remembered his parents. He started to ask you where they were. You didn't know how to tell them they'd passed over thirty years ago.

He wandered through the house like he was lost, and you knew he was trapped somewhere in his mind, everything disintegrating slowly around him. Sometimes he'd come up to you and give you a kiss.

"I've been looking everywhere for you," He murmured.

Some days were better than others. He would sing old songs from your youth, and try to dance with you in the kitchen. You both still remembered the steps but were too stiff and slow to do them properly.

Eventually, one of your grandkids came to live with you. Daiyu had studied to become a nurse, and now, Chenle needed around the clock care. It was simply too risky for him to be left alone. He'd try to go outside, saying that he was late for a meeting, or that Jeno—who had passed two years before his diagnosis—had invited him to his house to watch the game.

He forgot how to hold a spoon, how to walk properly. After four years, he became bedridden, speaking in slow, short sentences. You'd read to him after lunch, from books you'd acquired over the years. He seemed to enjoy one book the most: a battered old copy of a book about the Amazon rainforest.

You knew your Lele was in there somewhere. You could see it when Jiali and her husband came to visit, and he asked her about the secret handshake the two of them had even though he couldn't remember her name. When you reached for his hand, he would press a kiss to yours, unsure as to why he was doing it. And when you walked past the bedroom, sometimes you could hear him humming to himself—a lively, fast tempo song that a boy had once asked a girl to dance to, lifetimes ago.

There was a man named Zhong Chenle, once. He was good at dancing and a lovely singer, he was a loving father and husband. He's gone now. In his place is someone who has his face, but isn't really him. He can't remember how to speak. When you read to him, his lips move, but no sounds come out. His eyes drift across the room, looking for things he doesn't know the name of. His hands are gnarled and his fingers twitch, itching to do something, anything, but unsure of how to do it.

The last time you spoke to your Chenle had been three years prior.

"Do I know you?" He asked, voice small. You smiled at him, biting back tears. No matter how many times he asks you this question, it hurts every time. You'd learned to play along with it. Telling him the truth would only scare him, confuse him further.

"My name is Y/N," You told him, "I'm an old friend. We used to go out dancing together."

His eyes were void of anything until a second later, recognition pooled into them.

"Y/N," He sounded out slowly, "We should—we should go dance again someday."

"Someday," You agreed, nodding, "But now we have to wait until you're better."

"Until I'm better," He answered with a smile, dimples making your heart crack even further.

All he—and you—could do now was wait for the end. Truthfully, you've made peace with it. You'd be heartbroken to see him go but happy to see him finally rest. He started his decline seven years ago, and the past five have been spent like this. It's sad enough to see him in this way, to watch Daiyu try to feed him when he barely even remembers how to eat anymore. A shell of who he once was, a living ghost.

The family knew, old friends knew. That was all that mattered to you. That there had been a man named Zhong Chenle once, who wasn't scattered in the wind.

Once. Long, long ago. It's all just a burning memory, now.

#nct dream x reader #zhong chenle x reader #kwritersworldnet #nct angst #chenle angst #kpop angst #kpop au #nct au #nct dream angst #chenle x reader #nct scenarios #kpop scenarios #my writing

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dameronology · 4 years ago

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best friend {javier pena x reader}

summary: after finally calling it a day on a bad relationship, you turn to javier for comfort

warnings: mentions of alcohol + smoking, swearing

i was listening to best friend by rex orange county when i was writing this so i guess it’s loosely based on it? it’s definitely where the title came from. i hope you enjoy!

- jazz

Javier hated pulling all nighters - he especially hated them when it was Friday. Everyone else at the office was either going out to drink or going home to spend the evening with their families. The sounds of music and laughter that surrounded the outside of the DEA offices only acted as a reminder of how lonely he’d become; because, even if Colombia was the source of much of his grief, for others, it was their home. Their happiness and their life. Both of which, these days, seemed to be things he struggled to find

That wasn’t to say that his life completely lacked enrichment. Between the antics of you and Murphy, and the progress you were all making towards capturing Escobar, things weren’t all that bad. Especially you. He didn’t entirely know what your presence in his life meant, but it was a hell of lot. It felt like he’d finally started to see his life in colour when you were assigned the desk beside his. Your energy and your wit enriched everything, even if 99% of your relationship consisted of taking swipes at one another,

If there was one thing he was grateful on nights like these, it was that the DEA apartment building wasn’t too far from the office. Murphy had clearly gotten home hours ago, because his car was in his spot and the lights to his unit at the front of the complex were dimmed. Your own vehicle was a few spaces over from Javi’s, terribly parked (as per usual) and barely between the white lines. At least he could take comfort in the fact that both his friends had made it home safe.

Or, you’d at least made it the front steps of the building.

Javier almost did a double take when he saw you, a half-burnt cigarette in one hand and a completely empty bottle of wine in the other. You were slumped against the railings, eyes glued to the floor in front of you. He knew had it been a rough week - there had been a lot of bloodshed and not a lot of progress - but he hadn’t realised it had been that bad. And you would have told him, right? You told him everything. Literally everything. Probably more than you told your own damn boyfriend (who he hated - not that it was important).

‘Jesus.’ Javi didn’t bother to offer you a greeting.

You looked up at a him, a hazy smile playing on your face when your eyes met. ‘Agent Pena! How are you doing?’

‘You never call me that. I hate it.’ He muttered, dropping onto the stairs beside you. ‘Please don’t tell me you drove home like this.’

‘God, no.’ You snorted. ‘I drove home then went to a bar with Tom.’

‘How is he?’

‘Him? Yeah, we broke up.’ You casually shrugged. ‘So then I brought some wine and realise I left my keys.’

‘Oh, honey.’ Javi murmured. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘Don’t give me that, Jav.’ You elbowed him slightly. ‘I know you hated him.’

‘Guilty as charged.’

Javier stood up, moving the bottle aside and sticking his hand out to you. He didn’t exactly relate to what you were going through. Mostly because he didn’t get into relationships, or that he was always the one to end them. He hadn’t really known heartbreak in the conventional sense. Sure, he’d felt a pang in his chest when you first introduced him to your now ex just over a year ago, but that wasn’t loss. It was just..something he didn’t want to think about. It was a can of worms he’d been pretty good at keeping shut, and he was not going to start sorting through it at 1AM. He was far from drunk (unlike some people) but hours and hours of paperwork and chain smoking had fogged his brain. Right then, you needed a friend, and that was something he could be. Though you hadn’t shared all that much emotion together - mostly just careless banter and harmless teasing - your jobs had bonded you for life. You’d certainly witnessed a lot of twisted things, and it meant that you and Murphy were the only two people in the world who truly understood the kind of thing he dealt with. And, with all due respect to Murphy, you got on Javi’s nerves a fuck ton less.

You tangled your fingers with his, letting him drag you up off the steps. Stumbling for a moment, you gripped onto his shirt for balance. It felt like somebody had taken a baseball bat to your head and to your stomach. Whether you wanted to chunder or faint first, you didn’t know. The only thing you could think about was the warm arms wrapping around your waist, and the feeling of Javier’s body being flush against yours as he pulled you against his side and guided you into the building.

‘Where do you think you left your keys?’ He gently asked. He didn’t say anything when you slumped further against him, all your energy staying solely on walking and not falling.

‘Thabar.’ You murmured.

‘Huh?’

‘The bar.’ You repeated. ‘I’ll go back in the morning. It’s fine.’

‘I don’t think you’ll be awake before midday.’ Javi chided.

He held you there for a moment, fumbling about for his own keys, before kicking open the apartment door.

His place wasn’t bad, but it didn’t feel that far off of a show apartment, or the window of an Ikea. It was identical to yours, except you’d actually made yours homier. Javi’s, meanwhile, looked exactly as it had the day he’d moved in. None of the furniture had moved, and the television had probably been turned on a total of twice. Whilst your place was covered in photos and personally belongings, his was filled with bottles of whiskey and strewn leather jackets. He did have one photo hanging on his fridge; it was a Polaroid of him, you and Murphy, chilling out at your favourite bar. You were in the middle of them, practically hanging off their arms with a grin on your face. Javier would never let either of you actually know how much you meant to him. He couldn’t deal with the teasing.

The next few moments were a blur of you dropping onto his sofa, hitting the leather with a thump. He tossed a warm blanket over you, before helping you kick off your shoes and taking a seat beside you. With the alcohol making you more brazen than usual, you didn’t think twice about curling against his side, and Javier didn’t think twice about letting you. He knew better than anyone that sometimes, a hug was the best medicine - so, he tossed an arm over your shoulders, pulling you towards him in a similar manner to how he had done in the hallway. The smell of his aftershave was gentle, mixed with a faint smell of cigarettes and the mint hand cream he insisted he didn’t use. It was just...Javi. And you loved it.

‘Do you wanna talk about it?’ Javi gently asked, thumb rubbing circles over the bare skin on your arm.

‘I dunno what there is to say.’ You murmured. ‘I saw it coming. I definitely saw it coming but I just...I thought he was it you know. I mean, you probably don’t know because the one for you is whiskey and cigarettes-’

‘- is this an attack on me or your ex?’ He joked.

‘Right, sorry.’ You peered up at him through hooded eyes. ‘Just hurts, y’know? Because for all his flaws, he’s probably as good as I’m ever gonna get.’

‘That’s bullshit and you know it.’ He reminded you. ‘That man never deserved you.’

‘He wasn’t that bad, Jav.’

‘Remember all the times you were in a bad mood because he was late, or because he didn’t turn up to a date?’ His brown eyes flickered, staring at the blank wall ahead. He didn’t mean to overstep, or to be protective, but it was just that it you. And that was reason enough.

‘He was trying his best.’

‘If that’s his best, then he’s in trouble.’ He snorted.

You groaned, flopping further down into his chest. ‘It’s hopeless. I’m hopeless. I don’t need a man to survive but maybe thats why I get through them so quickly.’

‘You’re not the problem.’ Javi said.

‘My mum always said I was too much to handle-’

‘- you’re not.’ He cut you off. ‘If they think you’re too much, then they’re not worth your time.’

‘There’s seven billion people on the planet. There must be someone, right?’

‘You don’t need to find somebody. You’re more than enough on your own.’ He said. (What he meant to say was: you don’t need to find somebody, but it’s okay if you want me).

‘I know.’ You murmured.

A silence fell over you. Javier wasn’t entirely sure what to say, because every time he tried to go over the possibilities, it kept ending with him declaring that he was the one you should be with. It made sense logistically.

You didn’t like to be looked after, but you always let him. You both had the same job, so you both understood the struggle. The spark between you two was fucking immense and there was always something to talk about. It was hard to find a single reason not to be together - except for timing. And timing was kind of everything, especially when there was so much at stake. How much of it you needed, he didn’t know. That wasn’t even calculating in the fact that it would take Javier at least thirty more cycles of convincing himself to tell you before he finally took the plunge.

‘Thank you for helping me tonight.’ You sleepily mumbled.

‘Always.’ Javier replied.

‘I’m trying not to fall asleep on you-’

‘- go ahead.’ He cut you off with a soft chuckle.

‘I appreciate you.’

That was the last thing you managed, before sleep completely overtook you. This was new ground for your friendship - physical touch, deep conversations, Javi teetering dangerously close on the precipice of enlightening you with his feelings. The bottom could even have the best landing ever, or the worst. Was it worth the risk?

Javi peered down at you, completely enamoured at the sight of you quietly snoozy, hand splayed out on his chest and eyes screwed shut. This could be an everyday thing. Domesticity and closeness and you. He could feel his chest physically hurting at the feeling; at the prospect of having you. Like, actually having you.

He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, brown eyes flickering up to the ceiling. That was when he knew in his very soul, the answer to that question.

You were worth every risk.

#javier pena x reader #javier pena imagine #javier pena fluff #javier pena x you #javier pena blurb #pedro pascal characters

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anaiswriterr · 4 years ago

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last christmas

Pairing: Todoroki x Reader

Rating: T

Last Christmas by Wham!

↷ SYNOPSIS: Five fucking years of a relationship down the drain when Shoto decided to call it quits, leaving you colder than the ice he produced. Last Christmas left you underneath the mistletoe with a bottle of eggnog staring off into space as others partied with their significant others for Christmas. But what happens when next Christmas you no longer are as cold as ice and is under the arm of another pro hero? Can Shoto get you back?

- mha december special part three -

•

It’s the silence between the two of you that tells you, it’s truly over.

The relationship has finally crumbled into nothing but empty promises, and lost memories that’ll never be saved.

“So that’s it, five years and we’re done?” You mumble, biting back your bottom lip stopping it from quivering. His response is just a simple nod, his hands pressed hard into the back pockets of his jeans. You search his eyes, for something that tells you to fight back. But his mumbled, “I’m sorry.” Is all it takes for you to flush down the speech you have mentally prepared and wave the white flag in defeat. You shrug, looking back into the hallways where the agency holiday party took place. Could this really not wait at home?

“Is there anything I could do to change your mind, Sho?”

You blink back away the tears that desperately want to fall, refusing to cry in front of your coworkers, the corner the both of you were in grew hot. Your sweater feels tight around your neck, you watch as Shoto shrugs his shoulders. “This wasn’t supposed to happen.. but work is getting dangerous. We have different perspectives of life-“

“You think I didn’t know I was dating a hero?” You seethe taking small sips of your beverage, eyeing his apologetic figure, bullshit, his hands stuffed deep into his back pockets and his duo colored hair frame his face. You want to scream and shout out him, but arguing at a Christmas party was something you didn’t find much interest in right about now. It wouldn’t fix anything - it would only cause a scene. You shrug, “Fine, if that’s what you want. I’ll stay the night at Uraraka and Deku’s, I’ll be back for my stuff in the morning.” Taking in a heavy sip of alcohol from your red solo cup, watching Shoto nod.

“I’m really sorry-“

“Don’t.” You place your hand on his chest, stopping his movement from moving towards you. You didn’t want a hug or kiss goodbye, “I’m gonna go enjoy the rest of my night, you, can go home and pack my bags.” You pat his chest looking up from your teary eyelashes that clumped together. It just had to be this night, of all places, of all times.

Getting dumped the day before Christmas sure was a way to enter the New Year. Well, you shrug, downing the last of your alcoholic beverage in search for the brunette. “There’s a first for everything.”

And well... you guess this would be the story of how you got your heartbroken on Christmas Eve.

***

Last Christmas, you were left colder than ice. Your five year relationship frozen in time as you searched for apartments near the area. Close enough to work and far away from Shoto - he offered to stay at a hotel, even to leave himself. But you didn’t want anything from him, you wanted no lingering scents of the duel quirk user.

Who even breaks up with someone the night before Christmas!?

Irritated with life you settled down in a small cute apartment, washing your clothes to fade his warm scent of cinnamon mixed with the cool base of mint, mixing detergent and softener to mask his presence. Adopted a rescue dog to make the apartment seem more livelier - despite the scattered tissues and running mascara you were fine.

Just fine.

You look around your bedroom, snuggling beside your dog, Pebbles, sighing in irritation and wiping away the eye boogers that sat on the inner corners of your eyelids. Tapping your face awake and staring at the empty bottle of wine beside you resting on your nightstand. “I’m just... fine.”

Crying.

Sadness. Completely normal emotions and feelings to stumble upon after a break up - considering the two of you have been together for quiet sometime it took you awhile to get used to sleeping alone. Although, Pebbles did accompany you into bed to spare warmth it still hurt reaching out to nothing but either fur or air. Repeating the same routine everyday for months, avoiding all hero news, and simply just grabbing your favorite cup of coffee and heading off to work.

A cycle that grew all too quite robotic quickly.

That is, until you met Samonri Kayeta.

A senior executive advisor for the technical company you worked for to help support heroes. You had bumped into him in the break room while your poured yourself another cup of coffee. His presence startling you and causing you to spill your Styrofoam cup onto your hand and all over the marble corner tops.

Apologizing profusely for the scare he handed you a paper towel immediately, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “I-I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.” Kayeta apologized, pulling your hand forward dabbing away at the burn and gently ushering you to the sink. Running your palm under the cold water, he treats the burn.

This moment was only the beginning of the romantic relationship the both of you jumped into after only two months of dating. His apologies still remained when you bring up the first time the both of you met one another. Laughing his worries away.

Samonri wasn’t a hero.

In fact, he was actually born quirkless just like you.

And you were thankful for that fact, the hero life was just no longer a thing you planned to engage in. Seeing as your prior hero relationship didn’t end so well. Samonri wasn’t ever in the face of danger, he had no reason to protect you. So therefore excuses of a plausible breakup if things got bad never worried you. Between the both of you - nothing ever truly went bad. Of course couples argue, but the two of you never truly thought about breaking up.

And suddenly your cold heart, once frozen in time, thawed out from the warmth you found in another man.

***

Next Christmas, came faster then any other. An invitation to celebrate the engagement of both Izuku and Ochako to one another was received. The velvet invitation in your hand felt smooth as you handed it to Samonri - a small smile pulls at the corner of his lips, he nods. “Yeah, let’s go.” He urged.

It was a night event, semi formal and semi casual.

You held hands dearly with Samonri as you entered the hall, when a pair of eyes trail your frame. You can feel his heat from all the way across the hall, his freezing temperatures dueling with his molting heat. Todoroki, the new number three hero is staring daggers into the brown haired mans back. Your eyes meet his duel colored ones, it’s been months since you’ve stared back into those eyes.

“Are you okay, darling?”

You turn to face Samonri, ignoring the eyes on your back. His grip on your hand tightens lovingly, “Y-Yeah, of course.” You say breathlessly, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, you haven’t spoken to Todoroki since the day you finally moved out - were the two of you even on first name basis? He stood in a corner besides Ilda and Momo, he looks different. Much more serious, a lot more bruises and scars. You weren’t there to treat his wounds no more, but you were thankful, you never had to go frantically search for the first aid kit every other night - not anymore at least. You walk over to Izuku, who is standing with Bakugou and Kirishima near the bar toasting to the engagement.

You greet them normally, congratulating the two.

Your shoulders ease when the boring eyes finally peel off your back sending cool goosebumps up your skin ending at the base of your neck. Samonri is already long gone, lounging with Denki and Sero at the bar sipping on a couple drinks with his dress coat resting behind him. Meanwhile you found yourself wandering towards to the group of girls who celebrated in delight.

Uraraka’s smile growing larger with each passing second.

Your feet hurt from all the walking and dancing, laughing as Samonri twirled you one last time. “You think we should head back home? It’s getting late,” He says running his fingers through his dark wavy hair, pulling at his roots.

“Wanna wait in the car for a while, I’m just going to say good bye to everybody.”

He nods, pressing a chaste kiss onto your forehead before digging into his jean pocket and pulling out his car keys; “I’ll wait for you.” His hand moves away from the small of your back as you watch him leave through the front door of the venue and into the hall where the elevator was.

“I should probably leave, Samonri and I have work in the morning; I love you both! Congratulations!” You hug the happy couple, walking off to bid goodbye to the others. Leaving the venue and into the elevator, you press the down button. Awaiting for the elevator to arrive to your level you didn’t even realize the sound of the party room door opening and slamming shut. The small ding pulls you out of your thoughts, the sliding doors open and you step in, pressing the first floor button watching as the doors close.

“Wait- Y/N!”

The elevator door opens wide as Todoroki squeezes himself in, he leans down to catch his breath. With your hand over you hand from the startle you blink in surprise. You cross your arms over your chest, turning your head away. “What do you want, Todoroki.”

“Y-you... didn’t say... hello..”

“You ran all this way - because I didn’t say hello?”

The door closes shut, and the elevator begins to descend down the floors. Changing numbers from six to three, Shoto reaches out for the emergency stop button. Pressing hard against its flat red surface, a small buzz goes off. Ringing in your ears you nearly had enough, “Todoroki! What are you doing?”

Your back is slammed into the wall, two arms charge in your body like a flightless bird. His hair is disheveled and his eyes are teary, you’ve never seen him in such distress. Your body presses hard onto the cold flat surface behind you and his warm breath reddens your neck. He is mumbling to himself, quietly, you barley catch a glimpse of it. “Todoroki..” he says. Your heart is pounding, drumming away at your rib cage it’s been months since you’ve seen him up and close. “That’s not my name..” he sighs, you arch a brow questioning his out of character behavior. “What are you saying-“

“It’s not my name.. you call me Shoto.. Sho-“

“That was then.”

“So it just means nothing to you?”

“You left me.”

It goes silent. His eyes search into yours, reaching out to the woman he remembers. You grow irritated. Annoyed by the situation wishing the elevator door would’ve just closed a little quicker, he left you. Not the other way around, “Remember, Shoto, you left me the day before Christmas.. what do you want from me?” The words finally set in, he looks up at you. Confused and enraged you push him away, “Don’t you remember? And you ran all this way for a hello?! What kinda bullshit- how stupid do you think I am!?” You argue, walking towards the buttons.

“What do you want from me, mister pro hero.”

He sighs, blocking your way from the buttons, stopping you in your tracks. “Does he make you happy?”

You blow a raspberry at him, “Yes, of course he does- now if you’ll excuse me he’s waiting for me in the parking lot-“

“I’ve been meaning to talk to you.” He huffs, pushing your hand away from the buttons. You squint your eyes in annoyance, “Oh please you’ve had plenty of times to talk to me, a simple hello or how are you would’ve been nice.” You lean back to cross your arms over your chest ignoring his longing gaze.

“Please,” he whispers, staring down onto the ground.

You sigh once more in defeat know he wouldn’t move, he was like that. He was serious about this, and when he’s serious there was no way he’d back down from it. Tilting your head, you allow him to get in his last words.

“I’m sorry, Y/N.”

“Don’t you think that’s a little too late?”

“Everything I did was always too late.. when I said I loved you, when I asked you out after two years of being friends - god I should’ve asked the moment I met you; or when I left you because I couldn’t handle the fact somebody, no, someone like you could ever love me the way you did. It was so much.”

He pushes away from the buttons and walks towards you slowly, backing you up into the wall. Your chest grows heavy at his words peering into his eyes that were hooded by his bangs.

“I don’t know why I’m here.. but I just couldn’t let you go without tell you, I’m sorry.. I love you.. and to please just come home.”

Home..

The apartment you and Shoto bought right after the two of you graduated High School; he was already interning to become a hero and you were just starting college. With only one flower pot to decorate, three picture frames and mattress. The two of you ate dinner on top of the kitchen counter laughing at the most idiotic things you could come up with. The one you spent five years in, cleaning his wounds, holding him after the hard days, settling him in warm baths to ease his tense muscles.

Home was the place the two of you discussed about a family.

Until last Christmas.. when he left you.

He presses the button on last time, allowing the elevator to continue its transit to the first floor. Look up to face you, you can finally see him clearly. His eyes, his face you once stared into lovingly.

You still loved him.

The elevator dings, opening up its metal doors yet you stand still for a while. He’s whispering, begging for you to stay, to not leave.

But the past can not effect your decision that Shoto Todoroki..

“I’m sorry, Todoroki. I wish you well.” You step out, clutching hard onto your purse. Refusing to look back at his defeated body, his expression would merely kill you. Leaving the venue in a hurry searching for Samonri.

His car is parked just around the corner, his tall frame smiles at you with his arms crossed leaning on the trunk; he waves you over. You speed walk towards him, “Hey babe,” he places a small kiss onto your forehead tenderly, noticing your face of sadness he cups your cheeks, “What’s wrong?”

was indeed your past.

You shake your head of the thoughts of the pro hero you once cleaned up in the dead of nights away; focusing on your now. His gentle features, his intentions clear as day. For so long you choked on smoke and ice.. smiling at him.

Goodbye, Sho..

“Nothing.. lets go home.”

TAGLIST: @meep-meep @hikaru-mikazuki @jabkie @simpingovereveryanimeguy @theycallmemrsbarnes @bittersweetbooke @meri-soni-meri-tamanna @myheroesaretired @fandomtrashbitch @chocbaleine

Authors note: Who said this would be a cute fluff fic? I did, which obviously didn’t work out. Why? Because it just wasn’t realistic and wouldn’t make sense to just magically make the reader forgive him and leave someone who is perfectly capable of being with the reader seeing as he helped pick up the broken pieces left behind. Anyways. Honestly. I’m fucking tired, I’m sorry it took so long to get this out. Should of been out like a week ago, but so much has happened and I’ve been just all over the place, I have Winter blues and it’s hard to get through this. I just got a job too, it feels like I have no right to feel this way. People have it so much worse, but everyday I just really hate it here. I got all A’s, amazing friends and it’s like fuck people don’t even have what I have so it feels wrong for me to feel this way. But ig it is what it is. Sorry guys, updates soon.

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thefairyletters · 3 years ago

Text

✨ Spooky Recs✨

I read a lot of fanfictions... More than I am proud of. I thought I should recommend as I go before I lose sight of their existence among the sea of my favorites.

Since past few days I have been craving for some creepy, unnerving fanfics that will keep me restless and awake at night. I remembered my favorites and wanted to read more of the kind so I looked up, patiently going through each story that sounded compelling. I also revisited old stories for nostalgia's sake.

Of course, rare as they are, in Naruto fandom no less, it's even harder to find a horror and mystery fic that is well written, not dropped under 2 chapters, and really keeps your attention.

🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹

Genre: Horror, Mystery, Comedy

I've rated 4 aspects of the work -

Writing – I don't judge writing based solely on the grammar and vocabulary. I also consider how the author expands upon a subject, if they are consistent with the facts, if they are able to keep the attention of the readers regardless of their creative writing skills.

Characters – If the characters are well-developed, in their given character, if OCs have any real significance to the story.

Plot – How gripping is the storyline, if the story sticks to its original plot, the structure of the story, plot holes.

Flow – Mother-of-slow-burn, slow-but-steady, steady, fast, I-am-speed

When the flowers cry : TCOOKIES777 || M || AO3/FFN || SasuSaku || Goth Horror || Post-Canon, set during Blank Period || Ongoing

When one of the greatest medical-nin in the world goes missing in what should have been a simple delivery to the Land of Spring’s Hidden Snow Village, the rest of Team 7 must reunite to find her. But even the most powerful team of shinobi will find themselves challenged in a battle against the supernatural. With Sasuke's return, vengeful ghosts of the past will test him and his love.

My thoughts : One of the best stories I've read in a while, and top tier SS stories. I read this in one sitting. I never listen to music while reading, preferring silence, but for this one, I suggest you do as the author says. Also, keep some tissues and food with you. This story is major in mystery and minor in horror but otherwise full of SS fluff.

Writing: 10/10

Characters: 10/10

Plot: 9/10

Flow: Steady, if a bit confusing (but that's why it's mystery)

Kyuro : silver_shot || T || AO3 || SasuSaku || Mystery || Post-Canon || Complete

“Oh,” says Naruto, “well, its sort of like that. Except in this village, the story has a way more darker ending – it basically goes like this: the girl and the guy plan to run away together. The guy steals a bunch of treasure, and stashes it away. But then, when he goes to get the girl at her village, he kills her and decides to run away with all that money. But then he is killed by the guards of the girls village and now they're both dead and the treasure is hidden away somewhere”. Sasuke stares blankly at the blond, “that story makes no sense”.

My thoughts : I know you must be thinking the same thing as Sasuke – "makes no sense". I did too, but it's a pretty cool short story. It lies on the funny, creepy side that slowly starts to lose its funny touch. SS makes stupid mistakes later on but it could be because they are MCs. The ending is very ambiguous. It's not my favorite mystery but it is something. Enjoyable read but not something I will pick again.

Writing: 8/10

Characters: 8/10

Plot: 8/10

Flow: Fast

Moon stuttering in the sky : xfrinz || T || AO3 || Gen || Mystery || Pre-Shippuden || One-shot

Kakashi is suspicious of many things about Haruno Sakura. Too many things about her don't make sense, with too many incongruous explanations.

My thoughts : Author of this story just summarised Pre-Shippuden in less than 4k words and made some tiny changes to it. Not much though. One of my favorite gen fics yet. Read it if you haven't yet. You'll feel more sad than thrilled tbh. But worth it.

Writing: 10/10

Characters: 10/10

Plot: 10/10

Flow: I-am-Speed

Breath mints : silver_shot || T || AO3 || SasuSaku || Comedy-Mystery || Post-Canon || Ongoing (maybe)

Their home no longer exists with the life it once had – in fact no settlement thrives anymore; they exist only in a snapshot that contradicts time itself. Families within their own homes sleep in a slumber that they cannot wake from. Those that were chatting on the street prior to the event simply drop their heads and remain unresponsive.

My thoughts : I picked it up for Mystery but I stayed for Comedy. But of course that's not to say supernatural elements in this story is not it, but it sure pales in comparison to effortless humor in this story. Lee and Kiba pair is something you don't see often but they get along too well here. Charactisation is on point as well. SS angst! + NS angst (but it's downplayed)

Writing: 10/10

Characters: 10/10

Plot: 9/10

Flow: Steady

The Curse : sincerelyLen || T || FFN || SasuSaku || Horror || Post-Canon || Ongoing

Team 7 is unexpectedly assigned an S-Ranked Mission involving an unsolved mystery of 10 years. An eerie adventure that will test their teamwork, strengths, and greatest fears. Do you believe in Curses?

My thoughts : My all-time favourite horror Naruto fanfiction. To me, this sets the standard of how mystery and horror elements should be handled. I have never been able to get this story out of my mind even it's been years. Perfect charactisation of Team 7 with Smart-yet-Stupid!Sakura, I-can-fight-aliens-and-reanimated-corpses-but-keep-ghosts-away-from-me!Naruto and I-dont-get-paid-enough-for-this!Sasuke. I especially love OCs here. They kinda reminds me of Pillars from KnY. You must read this story, loosely based on Zombie apocalypse + curse concept.

Writing: 10/10

Characters: 10/10

Plot: 10/10

Flow: Slow-but-Steady

Silent High : Istoria || T || FFN || Gen || Mystery || Post-Canon || Complete

A bit of the Silent Hill series mixed in with Naruto. Trapped in an illusion whose rules are unknown, they struggle to find answers before darkness consumes them.

My thoughts : One of the best mystery fanfictions I've read. I especially loved how this story handled Genjutsu in the best possible way it could without it turning into some cliche, ghost story. Though really, this story has shown what my greatest fear actually is. I will never be able to leave my back open to a wheelchair. This story has simple writing yet it gives you creeps with the twists and turns. A must read one because it is unlike any other in this list.

Writing: 9/10

Characters: 10/10

Plot: 10/10

Flow: Steady

Silence of the Damned : Daystar Clarion || T || FFN || Gen || Psychological Horror, Mystery(?) || Pre-Shippuden || One-Shot

When Naruto wakes up to a dead body in his bathroom, he begins a quick spiral into madness.

My thoughts : Listen to Halsey's Control while reading this. Quite chilling, deals with mental issues and morbid but in a fascinating way. It gives a new meaning to Dark!Naruto, but one that actually makes sense. I never saw the ending coming... I had something else in mind and I was convinced it would be, but nope. Here's a sequel to this One-Shot (Uzumaki's War) which I never picked up.

Writing: 10/10

Characters: 9/10

Plot: 9/10

Flow: Slow-but-steady

To the Victor : Letta || T || FFN || NaruSaku || Psychological Horror || Shippuden || One-Shot

Naruto loses the fight and Sakura is a trophy of war.

My thoughts : A very twisted NS, if you squint. It's not horror but it might as well be... it is still a disturbing story to see from the eyes of Sakura. Quite chilling to be in Sakura's shoes. But I love this because it is one shot and I loved the ending.

Writing: 9/10

Characters: 10/10

Plot: 8/10

Flow: Steady

Under the Skin : BukkakeNoJutsu || T || FFN || Team 8 || Body Horror || Pre-Shippuden || One-Shot

Your actions don't make you a monster. Your reasons do.

My thoughts : There's a reason why Shino is my favourite team 8 member. In my opinion, Shino is also one of the strongest Shinobi of his generation. His clan techniques are just that horrifying. This story is testament to that. He is so terrible.

Writing: 10/10

Characters: 10/10

Plot: 10/10

Flow: Slow-but-steady

Instant Message : Keelah || T || FFN || SasuSaku || Murder mystery || Modern AU || Incomplete

She gave him names to kill, in order not to be killed herself. But having blood on her hands was turning out to be much worse than dying. "…There's still round 2…3…4…" When does this game end? She asked. "Don't you see, Sakura?" He said, "It never does."

My thoughts : I read this story a long time ago and have read this twice. Personally, it has the most interesting concept of all stories in the list. It reminds me of Vocaloid series, "Bookmark of the end". Kind of. To those who are thinking of picking this up, go ahead! It's a great book and has one of the best suspense I've read in Fandom. BUT, it has been stopped in mother-of-all-cliffhangers and Author is MIA for 4 years now. But, all things considered, it remains to be one of the best stories I've read.

Writing: 10/10

Characters: 9/10

Plot: 10/10

Flow: Steady

Monomoth : Ohtze || M || FFN/AO3 || SasuSaku || Horror || AU || Incomplete

Everything ends, eventually. Eight years after the war, Sakura's unhinged and Sasuke's obsessed. The fields are filled with corpses.

My thoughts : I read this story right after "The Curse", my favourite. From what I remember, Sakura and Sasuke are both mentally deranged, in different ways. Lots of death and gore to stomach, so not for weak readers. There's no speak of fluff in this one. Zero, Zilch, Nada. I wouldn't call it your classic 'Horror', but it is very disturbing, so psychological horror is more like it. Don't eat food while reading this one. Did I mention how Sakura is mentally disturbed beyond help in this one? And Sasuke is obsessed. If these suit your tastes, go ahead.

Writing: 10/10

Characters: 9/10

Plot: 10/10

Flow: Slow

I hope you enjoy this list. Let me know your opinion in comments.

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jamie-leah · 4 years ago

Text

War of Wolves (22) Finale

Season 1

Episode 22 - Everything Has Changed

Bucky x Reader

Summary: You have been on the streets for the past two years, ever since your accident that left you with the ability to tell if someone is lying. You work as an informant for the white wolf and his mob but you had never met him…until you overhear a phone call that leads you to saving his life. Now he wants you to work for him. Its an offer you couldn’t refuse…right?

Word Count: 1634

Warnings: Cliffhanger, swearing

A/N: Its the end Lovelies, I can't believe the journey its been with these characters! If you don't like cliffhangers I would advise not to read this part and take the previous episode as the last. I want to thank you all for the love and enthusiasm for this series and for loving them as much as me.

<---Previous Episode

WoW Masterlist Series Masterlist Oneshot Masterlist

The weeks of recovery were long but you knew you were in the best hands. Bucky put work on the back foot to look after you despite your protests.

You had been having a hard time sleeping though, ever since waking up and finding Bucky in the hall. Dreams of the past and a future that sometimes scares you.

It got so bad that you went to med bay to talk to the Doc about it, to see if he could give you anything. He was reluctant and I was too. He suggested talking about it, professionally. But no matter who you chose, you didn’t think they would quite understand the type of life you lead. You could never be totally honest with them and that would defeat the point.

You didn’t acknowledge how bad or strange it all was until you woke up with a start. The room was bright, the one you shared with Bucky. He was nowhere to be seen but a note was left on his pillow

“Come to the reception room when you’re awake”.

Which is odd, we only usually use that room for certain Client’s. Either way, you were distracted. You had a dream last night that felt more than a dream and it was starting to become troublesome.

The dream itself was nothing bad, in fact it was happy, lovely. Bucky had thrown you a surprise party, balloons and friends and family celebrating your recovery. It was lovely, one of the best dreams you had had for a long time, but it still left you with a sense that something was off.

You get dressed and make your way to the reception room lost in thought, that’s why when you open the door and hear “SURPIRSE!” you almost scream the place down.

Hand on chest, you take in the sight of balloons, banners and food. Everyone you love a few others were smiling broadly at you, Steve, Sam, Peggy and the kids, Darren even made an appearance. But your eyes were on Bucky and his wolfish grin.

“Did you do this?”, you ask.

Bucky shrugs casually, “maybe”.

Bucky walks across the room to you, holding you close and leans you down in front of everyone to kiss you deeply. Love and passion sweeping across the both of you, the sound of howls, whoops and cheering the only thing keeping you from tearing into each other.

Bucky pulls back with a broad smile before lifting you back up and turning to the crowd, “everyone, as you know we’ve been through a lot over the last year. We’ve lost good people, and parts of ourselves while trying to keep the organisation going and keeping each other safe. But we’ve also found new love, and welcomed another member into our family, Tommy”, Bucky gestures to the sleeping baby in Peggy’s arms.

Everyone cheers at the shout out before Bucky continues, “I wanted to celebrate Y/N’s recovery. I wanted to celebrate the people that made it possible for her to be here today. I also wanted to give everyone a reprieve. Things will only be more difficult for a while. We have Isaac and Harry to track down and we have other enemies to prove we’re still the strongest enterprise out there. They will be coming for us, but I wanted to take this moment to say we’ll be ready. I also wanted to take this moment to thank you all, for standing by me through it all.”

Bucky looks down at you with something fierce in his eyes, a love and devotion that you’ve never seen in another human being before, “to us!”, he shouts as he raises a glass to the room.

You wake up with a start, panting from feeling yourself trying to wake up. The dream was so vivid, it felt real…

You look to the pillow next to you and you see the note from your dream, the exact placing, the exact wording from Bucky.

You don’t even bother changing out of your pyjamas as you rush from the room. You make your way to the reception room as fast as possible, almost bashing into people trying to get to your one goal.

You mumble apologies until you make it to the doors of the reception room holding your breath. You hesitate with your hands on the knobs, you didn’t want this to be true, but hiding from it wouldn’t make it not true either.

You swallow despite your dry mouth and swing the doors open to “SURPRISE!”…

All through the party you convince yourself that it’s a coincidence. You don’t tell anyone, not even Bucky what you’re thinking but its all you can focus on until Peggy catches you on your own.

“Is everything okay?”, she asks, concern etched into her friendly face.

You nod, “yes”, and distract her by fussing with Tommy for a while.

By the end of the day, as night creeps in you feel exhausted by going through all the possibilities in your head.

Bucky takes you away into a private corner with another grin on his face just like he did with the surprise and for a moment you forget your troubles as you smirk back, “what is it Buck?”, you ask.

He grins wider, “I have another surprise for you.”

You shake your head with a small smile, “I don’t think I can handle any more surprises right now Bucky.”

He strokes your cheek for a few moments before saying, “I came close to losing you and having you here, happy and healthy is something I wanted to celebrate with everyone but I also wanted to celebrate with just us…so I booked us a night away in a hotel underwater.”

Your grin splits into a dazzling smile as you jump on Bucky murmuring your gratitude and love.

You arrived at the underwater hotel the next day. Checking in with Lisa at the counter as Bucky finishes checking in he asks her, “the extras I asked for…?”.

Lisa didn’t look up from the computer in front of her as she answers, “they should be in your room.”

We make our way to the room, our overnight bags in hand. Bucky steps into the room first looking around at everything.

But you barely pay any attention as you look out into the water and all the fish, your fingers are touching the glass when Bucky comes out of the bathroom, “none of the extras are in here”, he says with annoyance lacing his tone.

He starts towards the door before turning back to you, “did you detect the lie at all?”.

You shrug, “she probably believed it, so go easy on her Buck”.

You hear the door close behind you and you pray for a normal night of sleep or perhaps you could convince Bucky not to sleep at all. You stand there thinking about all the ways you and Bucky could ruin the room when you finally hear the door open.

You turn as you say, “hey Buck, I was thinking-“

Bucky is looking at you with shock and confusion on his face and that horrible feeling you had the night of the crash comes back in the pit of your stomach.

He doesn’t say anything for the longest time as he stares at you. Finally, you couldn’t stand anymore silence as you say, “what?! What is it Bucky? What’s happened?!”.

He clears his throat, “she knew the stuff wasn’t in the room.”

You pause before laughing at his statement, “Jesus Buck, I thought something was seriously wrong, like danger level wrong. You need to stop giving me heart attacks.”

But Bucky never starts laughing and so the smile slowly fades from your face as you say, “okay…so what if the extras aren’t in the room, we can ask for them or you can get a partial refund.”

He shakes his head as he finally steps in the room and closes the door behind him, “you’re missing the point Doll, she lied.”

You scrunch your face up, “yeah Buck, people lie-“

You stop the sentence dead in its tracks as you look at Bucky in alarm, finally realising what he’s getting at.

You have no words. Bucky is the one to fill the silence, “I’ve noticed it a few times over the last few days. The fact that you haven’t clocked some lies and have become more shocked at some of the things that happen around our home. I thought it was just because so much was going on. Your recovery, us never getting moments alone these days, but you never picked up the lie today, you even said so yourself.”

You shake your head, “wait a minute, we’re jumping to conclusions here, this is a new place and I wasn’t paying attention-“

Bucky interrupts you, “my favourite flavour of ice cream is mint, I’m wearing boxers under my pants, my mothers name was Sarah.”

He says all the lies he told you when you first met in quick succession and you never detect a single one as a lie even though you know they are.

Your stomach lurches and you feel your hands shake by your sides, you look up at Bucky as tears well in your eyes, “I’ve lost it Buck, I’ve lost my ability to detect lies.”

You sink to your knees before Bucky can reach you. He joins you on the floor as he wraps you in his arms trying to protect you from the truth that has become a truth in a long line of truths in a never ending nightmare.

You try to will this not to be true as you question your worth not only as a member of Bucky’s organisation but also as his partner and your ability to keep him safe. And you know, everything has changed.

WoW Taglist: @a-really-bi-girl @crazyblonde124 @summerwelsh @scuzmunkie @loving-life-my-way @pequenaguaxinim @paranoid-borderline-insane @lilsonbucky @somanyfandomsblog @broco8 @inquisitor-selvala @mad-red @k-n-e @rinkashirikitateku @duhh-danielly @boundtomyfate @kalesrebellion @booktease21 @whatinthyworld @flyingbabyunicornnamedangel @asapkyndall @yaszx @amoredashley @aveatquevale- @putinovertime @melimelbean @valsworldofcreativity @lokilokilokilokilokilokilo-blog1 @vesper852 @littlenerdgirl16 @wiccanmetallicrose @aya-fay

I have an entire plan for Season 2 and written some too. If you want to see more of this please let me know. The more people wanting more the more likely it will happen. Taglist for all things Season 2 are OPEN <3

#bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky #bucky fanfic #bucky x you #bucky fandom #bucky series #bucky fic #bucky x y/n #james buchanan barnes #mob!bucky #mob!au

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tatooedlaura-blog · 4 years ago

Text

The Warmest Thing I Own

Feeling good enough for the time being to attempt herding Mulder in a grocery store ...

Our Moments: Chapter 1: Five Words (post-Leonard Betts) Chapter 2: Sidebar Nonsense (post-Memento Mori) Chapter 3: Interim (floating somewhere around Unrequited) Chapter 4: Max 2.0 (post-Tempus Fugit/Max) Chapter 5: Shadowed Grey Eyes Chapter 6: The Warmest Thing I Own @today-in-fic

&&&&&&&&&&

The following morning, she woke him up, stretching beside him, humming as her muscles flexed and moved, liquid twist of spine and limb. He felt her and opened his eyes, finding the room grey but light, “what time is it?”

Her voice scratched out an, ‘I don’t care’ before burying her head back in the pillow.

“Are we not caring today? ‘Cause I can get behind not caring today.” Reaching out to poke her side, “how are you feeling?”

Rolling in his direction, she gave him a smile that could have lit the city had she come with plug and adaptor, “I actually feel okay. I don’t think I’ve slept like that in weeks.”

“No nightmares?”

“No. Only dreams of farmhouses and men in kilts.”

Mulder laughed, “more than one?”

“Maybe.” Sighing deep, “it’s Saturday, right? Now, I know we’d normally share the worry today but I think I’d rather ignore it completely and go grocery shopping and maybe make dinner and eat a gallon of ice cream.”

“It’s actually Friday but I’m good with all that anyway.” Finally able to see the clock on her nightstand, “it’s 8:27 so I vote you call Skinner while I go shower, then we commence.”

Booping his nose, “you’ve got five minutes or I’m coming in.”

Good God.

He knew she was joking. Had to be joking. But he found himself washing a little slower than usual, wanted to see what she would do at the five-minute mark.

She stood outside the bathroom door at 4 minute, 45 seconds, hand on knob. She felt giddy and free and happy and relatively well and the thought of opening the door made her stomach tighten but would it be all kinds of stupid?

Five minutes.

She felt her hand turning the damn handle.

Just as Mulder pulled the door open.

She stumbled forward into wet flesh, towel around waist holding fast as Mulder took a step back, catching her in his arms, “hi there.”

Both knew she had been opening the door.

“Hi.”

“Almost didn’t make it.” Eyes sparking down at her, given he now knew she had been opening the door, “damn slow water heater.”

She was red.

It amused him.

“Were you coming in for something?”

Something, at the moment, in her mind, was removing his towel and taking him back into the shower but instead, she pointed around him, “toothbrush.”

His grin made her shake her head, slip under his arm, brush her teeth, and keep taking deep breaths.

They were both crazy.

&&&&&&&&&&&

Grocery shopping with Mulder was akin to herding cats. She looked left at something, he threw three things from the right into the cart. She questioned two of them and winning, turned right to replace them on the shelf while Mulder, pouting, turned left, tossing in two other things, plus a box of Twinkies.

Finally, she threated to make him sit in the cart and while he looked her square in the eye, evaluating life and limb, he reached up, tipping a box of CocoPuffs from the top shelf into the cart, never breaking eye contact.

By the end, they had at least remembered the juice boxes.

Steaks were the order of the day, Mulder waving away her cheap-ass $6.00 on sale frugal fingers in favor of the New York strips, thick, red, mouth-watering, and definitely not $6.00. Mistaking her longing look for hunger, he gently turned her away, “we need to cook them first.”

Swallowing, “I know.”

Mashed potatoes followed, “yes, I’m getting the box of potato flakes because real potatoes are too damn much work.”

“Fine by me.” Then came the three pounds of mushrooms, “who the hell is washing all these dishes?”

Mulder smiled, tossing a bulb of garlic in the cart, “dishwasher. You have one but you never use it. I’ll teach you how tonight.”

She just kept stealing glances at the steaks.

Ice cream came last, small tubs of chocolate, cherry, orange sherbet, mint, dark fudge, and peanut butter swirl, “I like variety. Don’t look at me like that.”

“I’m just wondering if either of us will be able to fit through the front door by the time we’re done.”

“You could stand to gain twenty pounds.”

He hadn’t meant to say it out loud, bring reality into their fun but glancing at her, he saw understanding in her eyes, her hand finding its way into his for a moment, “I’d rather not do it all in one night, if that’s okay?”

She got a long hug for that, shoppers steering around the odd couple embracing in the freezer section but smiling at them regardless because, really, there’s nothing wrong with a little love in frozen foods.

Mulder paid the bill and Scully didn’t fight it, especially after she saw the amount of items he’d stashed in the basket under her radar, “how did I not see any of this?”

“Once you caught sight of the steaks, I could have jammed an elephant in here and you’d have never noticed.” Handing the cashier his credit card, “little woman’s got an appetite.”

Swatting him on the arm, “Mulder! Did you see how many things of ice cream you got? I don’t know how we’re going to fit all that in the freezer.”

The cashier grinned, handing him his card back, “you can always buy her a bigger freezer.”

“This is very true. Freezer shopping next.”

Scully gave up, “that’ll be tomorrow’s trip. We’ll just have to eat all this tonight.”

“Challenge accepted.”

&&&&&&&&&&&

Back at the apartment, groceries spread from one end of the counter to the other, Scully was mid-ice cream put away when she stopped, hand shaking, head spinning. After a second, she turned to Mulder, his back to her, “I’m, um, if you don’t mind, I’m going to go lay down.” Her hand was already rubbing her forehead, “are you okay putting everything away?”

Turning, his stomach sank at how pasty pale she’d become in the last two minutes, “yeah. I’m fine. Go take a nap.”

She was already moving, one hand on the wall of the hall to steady herself as she headed to the bedroom. Once alone, he slowly, methodically, put the groceries in their proper places, shutting cupboards quietly, trying not to rattle pasta or click jars. Five minutes and a fully stocked kitchen later, he realized it was only a little after one. She’d made it four hours. It had been a good four hours but …

If he dwelled on that, he’d scream at the top of his lungs, cursing the sky, fist shaking in the air. Instead, he pulled the mushrooms back out, deciding some manual cooking labor would keep his mind occupied.

That and trying not to cut the tips of his fingers off.

Three pounds of mushrooms, a stick of butter, six cloves of garlic, a teaspoon of salt, and ½ that of pepper later, and small, diced onion to boot, he set her crockpot to warm, snapped the lid tight, and wondered what next.

Sheets.

Put the sheets in the dryer.

Checking that the stains were gone, he hit the button to set the machine humming.

Clean up.

Last night’s Chinese cartons and chopsticks were still on the coffee table. Trash. Check.

Take out the trash. It smelled. He killed five minutes tying the bag, walking it to the garbage chute. Coming back inside and locking the door.

Then he stood there. Tight circle rotating, trying to find something else.

He knew what he wanted to do but felt he shouldn’t. She was fine. She would yell for him if need be.

Bu something kept pulling him in the direction of her bedroom.

“Fuck it.”

He made his way to her door to find her curled on the bed, small lump under thick covers. Stealing to the other side, he carefully lay down, sliding under the quilt in silence. If she wanted to, she could hit him later for arriving in her bed unannounced.

He would love it if she had the strength to hit him hard enough for it to make an impact.

Then again, she’d hit him before and it never made an impact.

It mostly just made him more stubborn and annoying.

He couldn’t help a small smile as he thought about how irritating he could be but she just kept coming back anyways.

She’d come back from this, too. She had to.

She had no choice.

He could see the tension in her face, even while asleep, forehead wrinkled, eyebrows tight. Reaching out, he began massaging between her eyes, imaging that fucking tumor only an inch below his thumb. How the hell could they not take the damn thing out? It was right there.

Right.

There.

Another thought he had to banish from his mind or screaming would ensue, he kept rubbing, watching her face slowly relax, pinched look disappearing, “mmmhmm.”

Soft sound in the back of her throat told him to keep going, small circles, occasionally venturing to the round bones surrounding her eyes, the bridge of her nose, up to her hairline. Another ‘hhmmmm’ later, then a deep sigh, she rolled to her back, making his task a little harder, arms more awkward in their reach.

Shifting slightly, arm now across her chest, he continued. Feeling himself drifting off, his thumb movements lighter and slower, he felt her turn her head, face him, “Mulder?”

“Hi.” Rolling towards him once again, her hands slipped under his arm and one palm to his face, she moved forward, kissing him. Shocked, he pulled back after a moment, “are you awake or asleep?”

He saw her suddenly blink, head shake, both signs she was just waking up, “what? Mulder?”

Knowing she didn’t recall anything because there was no embarrassment turning her red, no heat in her cheeks, eyes innocently confused, “nothing. You said something and I thought … I just wasn’t sure if you were awake. Go back to sleep.”

Caught in limbo of dreams and Mulder, she didn’t care, and scooted closer, into his arms, “you are the warmest thing I own.” Snuggling into him, about as up close and personal as they could get fully clothed on a Friday afternoon, “I like it.”

She so totally did own him and he would be perfectly fine declaring that by billboard, sky writer, or booming voice from the sky. Lips to her forehead, he left them there as he agreed, “I do, too.”

&&&&&&&&&

#msr #My writing #MulderNScully #xfiles fanfic #xfiles #cancer arc #Our Moments series #txf fanfic #feeling good enough to brave a grocery store #five-minute shower ultimatums

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royallyprincesslilly · 4 years ago

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Title: Kismet {9}

Henry Cavill x Famous OFC Aliya Taylor

Warning: Slow Burn, Mild Cursing, Dialogue Heavy, POV Changes

Words: 3.5k

Summary: Aliya is a singer turned model turned actress. Since she was fifteen, she’s been creating her empire in the entertainment world. As the daughter of a famous fashion model/designer and Hollywood director, you’d think life is easy for her, but her past has been anything but easy. Due to past trauma, she’s forever changed and no longer trusts any man that is not in her family and a select few in her team. She’s sworn off love and serious relationships and has planned never to fall again, but love isn’t something that can be planned. It just happens when it’s meant to. Can Aliya outrun a love that seems hellbent on holding tight to her, a love that is Kismet?

If you enjoyed this please LIKE, COMMENT, REBLOG!! 😘

As always, thank you so much for reading. ❤️❤️

***Loosely Edited/Proofread***

***Interactive***

Previous Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 |

The change within you was instantaneous, and your body fought it like a foreign virus. You’d barely slept a wink the night before. You tossed. You rolled. You took up your phone and hovered over Henry’s contact only to put it back down and toss and turn some more. Half of you wanted to talk to him so badly, but the other half wanted you to practice some restraint. There was no happy middle ground, and because there wasn’t, you struggled to find any peace in your mind. By the time you managed to fall asleep, it was one hour before you had to get up to prep for your day. When you opened your eyes, the first thing you saw was a message from the culprit to your sleeplessness himself.

MSG Henry: Good morning, beautiful. I didn’t sleep a wink. I couldn’t stop thinking about you. I must have picked up my phone ten times to text or call you. It’s torture not being able to hear the one voice you want to hear more than anything.

As soon as you read the words, your heart literally melted, and butterflies filled your belly.

“Christ almighty,” you whispered as your fingers itched to rapid-fire. Before you could catch yourself, you’d already typed out a reply and sent it.

MSG: Good Morning to you too, handsome. I know what you mean. I didn’t sleep either. I almost called you so many times. I think you’re addicting.

You reread the message then groaned at the last sentence.

“Really, Aliya, addicting?” You rolled your eyes hard and pushed to get yourself ready for the day.

By the time you’d left the hotel, he still hadn’t replied, and you regretted responding altogether. So, here you were sitting in one of your four meetings for the day trying to keep your head in the game and your mind off of Henry’s lips, or his eyes, or the feel of his muscular arms around you. It was proving more complicated than it sounded. When you weren’t thinking of his lips, or his eyes, or his arms and kisses, you were overthinking your message and his lack of response.

A little more than halfway in your first meeting, your phone went off, and you had to make yourself slow down and not leap for it. Nonchalantly, you glanced at the screen and saw Henry’s name.

MSG Henry: Addicting, huh? I like that, but you should not be talking. I have been addicted to you since the day you bumped into me.

Any worries you’d had the last few hours melted away, and a smile spread across your face.

MSG: Do tell me more, Mr. Cavill.

Barely a minute passed before another message came in.

MSG Henry: I would rather tell you while looking in your eyes so you can see the depth of which I mean them in my eyes.

You bit your bottom lip and closed your eyes. He was different alright, you thought.

MSG Henry: I’m sorry it took me this long to reply. I’m trying to finish up all business between today and tomorrow. I had to hide my phone from myself, or else I would have been messaging you this entire time.

You couldn’t lie. That felt good to know that he was having as much of a struggle going about his typical day to day tasks as you were. The knowledge of that comforted you, but it also worried you. This thing was still so new. For the duration of your meeting, you texted on and off. It continued as you moved to your second and third meetings, and by then, your focus was shot. The only thing you cared about was what he was saying.

You loved how open he was. He always found a way to describe to you just what he was thinking or feeling while still remaining mysterious enough to have you wondering what he felt and thought. It was interesting. You’d always been able to predict every man that tried to enter your life. You could predict their motives, what tactics they’d use to try to weasel themselves in, and you often could predict how things would end. With Henry, you’d been having a difficult time with those predictions. It bothered you.

By the time you got back to your hotel room, it was nearing seven o’clock. You wasted no time putting your phone on silent to concentrate on a little self-care beginning with a soak in the jetted tub. You did your best to keep your mind open to allow the meditation track you played to really work at loosening the knots in your shoulders and tension in your neck. The stress of your life, mainly from work, was really beginning to show. It had always shown, you just never listened to your body whenever it told you to slow down or take it easy.

Many of your friends and family teased you that you lived to work instead of working to live. There were times you were inclined to agree with them because you didn’t need to work so much to maintain the lifestyle you were accustomed to. You had more money than you knew what to do with. You could afford to take time off to recharge but, you’d lived with the belief that the less time you had to be idle, the better it was for your mental and emotional health. Idle hands, after all, were the devil’s playground. You’d grown so accustomed to working nonstop that you didn’t know how to just do nothing.

After almost two hours in the bath, as you walked into the bedroom, you saw your phone light up. It was an incoming call from Henry. Sighing, you plopped onto the bed, trying to fight back the smile that wanted freedom. The smile won the battle.

“Hello?”

“Did I wake you? I called earlier but--.”

“No, I’m awake. I put my phone on silent and took a long bath,” you clarified.

“Ah, that sounds relaxing. Maybe I should try that. I’m feeling this burnout more and more.”

“Those who are serious about their craft work too much.”

Henry sighed softly, and you wondered if there was a hint of mint and Guinness on his lips.

“I don’t want to work tonight,” Henry declared. “Tonight, I want to be with you.”

You dropped back onto the bed and stared at the ceiling. “Oh, do you now?”

“Yes,” Henry confirmed, his voice dropping in baritone. Your belly fluttered, making you press your palm against it.

“Have you eaten?”

“I haven’t,” you breathlessly replied.

“Good. I’ll be around for you in forty-five minutes.”

You sprang upward. “That’s not enough time.”

“Oh no? High maintenance are you?”

You snorted and shook your head, hearing the tease and challenge in his voice.

“Forty-five minutes then, just don’t get mad when I don’t look like pictures in magazines,” you quipped.

“Come as you are.”

Your reflection caught your eye. Because you’d gotten your hair slightly wet in the tub, it was now in a half natural half blown out state, making you look crazy. You doubted forty-five would be enough to tame it.

“See you soon,” you said before hanging up to focus on getting yourself together.

Forty-nine minutes later, you were dressed and on your way down in the elevator. As it made its way down, you assessed your appearance, thankful you were able to straighten your hair again to add a few loose curls. Part of you hadn’t wanted to bother, but you knew the dress you were going to wear would be better complemented with a sleek look. Your eyes skimmed the half sheer and half bodycon black dress you wore, loving that it was the right mix between sexy and classic. You added another layer of your mauve tinted lip gloss and just in time for the doors to open.

It didn’t take long for you to spot him sitting in the lobby where one of the big-screen TVs were placed. He was watching a rugby match. You crossed the black and white designed tiled floors and approached behind him. When you dipped to his ear, his scent almost had a moan escaping you—almost.

“Either, no matter where you are, you gravitate to rugby, or I took too long,” you whispered.

Henry turned, and the moment his eyes landed on you, a dumbfounded look washed across his face. You tried not to bashfully look away as you watched his jaw drop when his eyes took in the full view.

“Wow.”

A giggle that would have been nauseating from someone else slipped from you, making you press your fingertips to your lips.

“You’re breathtaking.”

You smiled, then gently tapped his chest.

“Stop.”

“I’m being completely truthful.”

Those damn butterflies made their presence known once again.

“Thank you,” you whispered.

Henry held out a single peony to you. “For you.”

As you took it, your smile widened. “Wow, one of my favorite flowers.”

“Is that so?”

You nodded.

“Hmm, happy coincidence,” Henry replied as he stood and buttoned his suit jacket. Once done, he held out his arm for you. “Shall we?”

You nodded and looped yours with his, ready for whatever the night brought on.

-Henry-

As you sat across from him under the hanging flowers and dim lighting of the restaurant perusing the menu, he couldn’t keep his eyes off of you. It could have been the way the golden light bathed your skin, giving it an almost glowing aura. Or it could have been the soft smile pasted to your subtle painted lips. It could have even been the spell of the restaurant, the classical music playing, and the sweet scent of flowers that surrounded the two of you. Whatever it was, he itched to touch you, itched to get closer, and itched to do nothing but find a way to keep a smile on your face.

“What?”

Realizing you were now looking at him, he smiled back at you.

“Nothing.”

“No, no. That’s a something look,” you said, still not able to not smile.

“It’s nothing,” he repeated.

“Henry, seriously. What is it?”

You reached out and gently slapped his hand, then rested it on top of the table.

“Nothing, really. It’s just—I can’t seem to keep my eyes off of you,” he admitted.

Your smile slipped, revealing a serious expression for a few seconds before you smiled again and dipped your head in a bashful way. Unable to keep his hands to himself any longer, he closed the gap between your hands and took yours.

“Your parents must be proud to have raised such a charming son.”

He smiled, then shrugged. “She has five of them.”

“Bless her heart,” you added, making him chuckle.

A comfortable silence drifted between you as he enjoyed the softness of your hand in his and the way your warmth mingled with his. He could get used to this, he thought to himself. When the waiter returned to the table to pour the chosen wine into your glasses, you pulled your hand away, but he didn’t take offense.

“So, by this time next week, I will be off the grid,” he said after the waiter walked off again.

A quizzical look swept across your face.

“Off the grid? Are you a spy?”

He smiled. “I promise I’m not.”

Another waiter approached the table, this time carrying your selected third and final courses. He thanked the waiter as he laid the plates before you before he retreated.

“You were saying,” you prompted, lifting your dinner fork from the selection of three different ones to your right.

“I’ve earned some much needed R&R.”

With your fork paused at your lips, you smiled. “Oh, that’s great. Congratulations. When was the last time you took a holiday?”

He watched you chew and quickly got lost watching your mouth. It took him several seconds to regain his train of thought.

“Eh-em, uh—perhaps a year and a half, if we are talking about a true holiday.”

“Wow, that’s a long time.”

“What about you?”

You smirked, then scoffed. “Define holiday.”

He returned your smirk then rested his knife and fork atop the braised beef on his plate before he replied. “Time off, no work, nothing that you have to worry about that can cause stress, anxiety, or tension. Oh, and of course, sleeping late, drinking until three or four in the morning, fun every day, and feeling refreshed upon return.”

You smiled as you finished chewing. He watched you take another sip from your glass and knew the wine was only making your lips even sweeter than they already were.

“Ha! Jeez, when you define it like that, it’s been years upon years,” you replied.

“Not good at all.”

You nodded. “Tell me about it.” A soft smile was still on your lips as you placed another forkful of the pan-seared sea bass you were eating.

With those words, a thought formulated in his mind, and it was a thought he wondered if he put words to would you be receptive. The remainder of dinner passed comfortably. Another reason why he couldn’t stop thinking about you and enjoyed being around you was because your conversation was always excellent. There was never any form of discomfort or awkwardness between you. You easily talked about so many things, and the things you said were always thought-provoking and intelligent. While everyone thought you were just a pretty face, you’d repeatedly allowed him to see that the world knew nothing.

His hand was rarely without yours in it, and when he held your hand, you softly raked your fingernails against the palm and fingers. Every time you did it, the goosebumps that raced across his skin sparked a reaction that was visible much, much lower than his hand. Everyone else in the restaurant could have disappeared for all he knew because you’d captivated him and every single one of his senses.

By the time you left the restaurant, it was close to midnight, but you didn’t seem to care what time it was. You held onto his hand as you walked along The River Thames. He often did this late at night when he couldn’t sleep. It was really the only time he could come and not be bothered or recognized because he was more than likely the only one there. Tonight your laughter danced through the air, and the gentle ebb and flow of the water only helped the glistening light from the bridge and neighboring buildings shimmer that much more. It was quite romantic.

You stopped and pressed your back to the iron gating that kept pedestrians out of the river. You stretched your arms out, leaning back as if to really enjoy the gentle breeze.

“It’s a beautiful night,” you sighed out.

Just like that, he drifted closer to you until there were only a few inches between your bodies. When you came upright again, your smile was still bright, even realizing he was so close.

“Are you trying to push me in?”

He smiled and shook his head. “Never.”

“Oh no?”

“No,” he repeated, taking another step to you.

You bit your bottom lip then sucked it into your mouth, and he became even more painfully aware that he hadn’t sampled them since the night before.

“Unacceptable,” he whispered.

“What?”

Reaching out, he cupped your jaw and slid his thumb across your cheekbone while he slowly traced every inch of your face to his memory. When his eyes met yours, he fell another foot or two deep into the quicksand-like pit of his growing feelings for you. He was so close to going under it was alarming.

“It’s unacceptable that I haven’t tasted your lips in over twelve hours.”

He heard a soft gasp escape your lips, and it was the only sound you made before his lips pressed to yours. The only move you made was to entangle your fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck. The feel of your fingers against his skin brought those familiar goosebumps. He moaned, then pulled you flush against him. The feel of your body against his made his heart thump rapidly, and when you moaned against his lips, the need to consume you took precedence.

When he delved his tongue into your mouth, he was shocked when you swirled yours around his, and the sensual move had him pressing you firmly against the iron behind you. It was out of character for him to do this so wide in the open, but he felt himself doing things that no one would ever guess he would do when he was with you. Your soft nibbled on his bottom lip brought his mind back to the rising dilemma, rising being the operative word.

Pulling his lips from yours, he rested his forehead to yours. Both of you didn’t speak; instead, you were both lost in trying to catch your breath. Long moments passed, and in those moments, he fought to regain his composure. He’d never reacted to anyone the way he reacted to you.

“Come with me,” he whispered, his voice shakier than he’d expected.

Your eyes fluttered open, and he didn’t know if it was wishful thinking, but he swore he saw actual stars in them that put the night sky to shame.

“Where?”

“Away on holiday.”

You pulled back a few centimeters and gazed into his eyes more intently. He watched them dart from his left eye, then to the right and back again. Slowly the stars vanished, and humor replaced them.

“Good one,” you said before you laughed out loud, pulling your body from his.

“Oh my god, you really had me going for a second,” you said through laughter.

You took two steps as if to continue walking, but he laced his fingers with yours and pulled you back before him. You gasped, and the sound of it made him close the space between you again, pressing you onto the iron bars. With his body pressed to yours leaving no evidence of there being two bodies, you moaned, and the sound almost had him capturing your lips again. If he did though, he didn’t know if his hands would remain respectful.

“I wasn’t kidding.”

Your eyes were on his lips, and the desire for you to take control, almost overrode his desire to be in control—almost.

“What?”

“Come on holiday with me, just the two of us, a beach wine somewhere—anywhere.”

He saw the moment you realized he was as serious as a heart attack.

“You’re serious,” you reiterated.

“More serious than I’ve been about anything.”

You didn’t speak for the next minute, but you also didn’t move away. He decided he’d give you the time to consider it.

You scoffed before you spoke. “What? Henry—we can’t.”

“Why?”

You gaped at him as if he were insane.

“Why?” That was when you pulled away from him and took a few steps sideways while still leaning against the gate. “We—we don’t--.”

You looked as if you were wracking your brain for a response, but you also looked like you were trying to catch your breath.

“We don’t know anything about each other.”

He took a step to you. You didn’t move.

“Which is why a private holiday would aid in us getting to know each other—uninterrupted without the pretexts,” he replied.

Your eyes widened before you shook your head then turned to face the water. You peered out silently, baffled. “Henry—we can’t.”

He approached you, and as he leaned against the gate, you looked at him. “Tell me why,” he requested.

“Why—because—I—I don’t do—that,” you stuttered.

“What holidays?”

He saw the exasperation wash across your face before it went blank. You stepped away again, then cleared your throat.

“I have an early flight out tomorrow.”

It was hard not to feel the rejection, but he hid it the best he could. Nodding, he held out his arm for you to take.

“Then let’s get you back to your hotel.”

The entire ten-minute walk, his mind went from one thing to the next. He worried he’d come on too strong, or that he’d said the wrong thing, or somehow offended you. Then he went back and forth with his decision to even ask you. Part of him felt like maybe he was jumping a little too far ahead, but the other part of him felt there was nothing wrong with inviting you especially based on how things had gone the entire night and the vibes he picked up. That made him wonder if he’d read the evening entirely wrong.

When he stopped with you in your hotel's lobby, he was in no hurry to ask you again. He’d begun to feel quite stupid. His hurt feelings needed the night to recover. He took your arm from the crook of his elbow and held your hand. Again, you didn’t pull away. Deciding he couldn't afford to give you the time to, he lowered your hand and stepped away from you.

“Thank you for dinner.”

“T—thank you,” you said barely above a whisper.

He nodded and debated his next move. He took a timid step forward and kissed your cheek.

“Have a safe flight.”

“Thank you.”

This one was a whisper.

“Good night, Aliya,” he breathed out before he quickly kissed your forehead then walked away out the door and down the street without looking back.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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#kismet fic #henry cavill #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill x you #henry cavill x black reader #henry cavill x black ofc #black fanfiction #slow burn fanfic

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honeymoonjin · 5 years ago

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ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ot7 x reader || ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 7.2k || ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: smut - rated 18+

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ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: voyeurism, exhibitionism, filmed sex, fingering, t h r e e s o m e, cum eating, sloppy seconds kinda?, multiple orgasms, creampie, cumshot, nipple play, tender manhandling, overstimulation, praise, this one has me hot and bothered folks

DAY FOUR

It’s dark when you wake up, still feeling slightly floaty. Beside you, Taehyung still snores away, naked bar for his pair of boxers and the sheets draped lazily over his torso. He looks peaceful, face angelic and chest rising and falling deeply. The sight of him almost makes you want to fall asleep then and there, but your throat is parched and your mouth is dry.

Perhaps sleeping the day away wasn’t wise, but still you dress in dim silence, padding down the stairs with bare feet and nothing more than Taehyung’s shirt - even more oversized on you - and a fresh pair of panties.

This is the first time you’ve really been out of your room at this hour, and you marvel at the enveloping stillness of the air. No lights, only the creeping moonlight to guide your way to the kitchen, eager to ease your dry mouth. The refrigerator light makes your eyes ache as you pull out a bottle of water, uncapping it with a sigh and leaning back against the countertop, gulping almost a third of it down before your brain starts to pang at the sudden cold.

“Can’t sleep?”

You jump at the sudden voice, glancing up to see the round, pale face of Min Yoongi peeking over the couch. In such deeply–set quiet, you feel the need to speak lowly, just enough for him to hear. “Just woke up, actually.”

He combs through the dyed honey blonde of his hair as his eyes narrow in disbelief. “Is that Taehyung’s shirt from this morning? So that’s where the two of you have been all day. You must’ve really gone at it like rabbits, it’s almost three in the morning.”

“Jesus,” you groan. “I must’ve been asleep more than 12 hours then. I feel like I’ve woken up from a coma or something, I swear.”

“That good, huh?” he says in a teasing tone as you take another sip of water.

“Go upstairs and see for yourself if you’re so curious,” you retort.

Yoongi stays silent for a moment, and when he speaks again, his voice is different. Softer. “Come sit.”

You obey silently, a little huff forced out of your lungs when you drop onto the couch beside him, cradling the bottle of water between your knees as you wait for him to say something, explain why he’d asked you over.

The blonde-haired man scoffs softly, nudging your shoulder. “Come on, I’m not telling you off or anything. If you want to go, you can go, but I thought you might like some company.”

The air is warmer here beside him. “I’ll stay,” you answer quietly.

“Three days,” he muses, his voice bringing colour to the dark room. “Why does it feel like weeks?”

You hum, unable to think of a reply that would comfort him. “What would you have been doing if you weren’t here right now?”

Yoongi’s legs are crossed, much like how Jimin always sits, but it gives off a far more casual vibe as he slumps, butt resting almost right on the edge of the cushion. “I’d probably still be up. I’d just be up alone.”

“Night owl?” you question, tucking one foot up under you so you can face him more.

“Lonely,” he answers simply, eyes focused on the table in front of him.

You don’t know what to say. Luckily, it seems like he’s not finished, but just taking a pause to collect his thoughts. You’ve been noticing that Yoongi seems like the type to mean every word he says, and consider each one carefully.

“I thought I‌ was picking a career filled with people,” he elaborates, voice flickering low like a single flame. “I guess in some ways, both health practitioning and teaching are fairly sociable jobs. But I rarely see the same person twice. There was a time when I thought I preferred it like that. I’ve never been a social butterfly like some of the guys here. But after a few years, you just feel so hollowed out by it.”

You let his words sink in for a moment, head resting on the back of the couch. “And now?”

“Now?” he repeats with a frown.

“Are you still lonely now?”

He attempts a smile. “I can’t decide.”

You frown at his sullen tone. “We all love having you here, you know? Seokjin really appreciates your help in the kitchen, the two youngest both adore you, Namjoon respects you so much and I’m pretty sure Hoseok and Jimin would’ve had a catfight in the living room if it wasn’t for your level-headedness.”

Yoongi brightens a little bit, just enough for his lips to twitch, genuinely this time. Slowly, his eyes slide over to meet yours. “And you?”

You slip the tip of your tongue out enough to wet your lips. “I- If it’s okay, I’d rather show you my appreciation.”

His eyes are molten as they search your face for any signs of hesitation. When they find none, he uncrosses his legs, splaying them apart, and leans over to press lightly at your shoulder. “Lean back,” he instructs, the soft tone replaced with a casual roughness that he usually spoke with.

You swallow, letting the water bottle between your legs fall to the floor as you lie back, head resting against the arm of the couch.

Yoongi looks down at you, distaste flitting across his features. Your heart stops for a moment before he reaches out to tug at the hem of your baggy shirt. Tae‘s baggy shirt. “Take this off,” he orders with a grumble.

You ditch it hastily, wanting Yoongi’s hands on you, and shiver at the sudden cold, lying beneath him in nothing but your panties. “Yoongi,” you whisper, back arching as an incentive for him to touch you.

Reverently, a wide hand dips down, fingertips running over your shoulder, your bare chest and stomach, and back up to cup your breast, squeezing just enough to make you sigh, wanting more. As he fondles it, Yoongi adjusts his stance, hooking one leg between you and the back of the couch, propping himself up with his other arm so that he can lean down over you.

Rather than kissing you straight away, he watches your face with a look like hunger, drinking in your every reaction as his fingers slip up to pass over the stiffened peak, thumbing it so it continues to plump up.

You let out a breathy moan, tipping your chin up towards him. The hand on your breast slips up to cup your face, big enough that the tips of his fingers dip into your hair. It’s overwhelming; his legs on either side of you, and your face cradled in his tender grasp, bracketed between the back of the couch and his arm. Finally, his face lowers enough for his lips to brush yours, and your eyes slip closed in bliss.

This close, every breath is lined with his scent, rich yet tangy like mint and caramel, a juxtaposition that suits him perfectly. His lips on yours are like fine silk, brushing so lightly that you tremble at the intimacy of it. Every movement is painfully precise, languid. His fingers gently play with your hair like he can’t quite keep them still, but his lips take their time with you. The two of you are in your own world, alone to savour every delicate touch. No one else is awake, so you let the butterflies in your stomach grow and the flutter on your lips continue, hands wandering lower to where his shirt - a white tee with the letters FG stamped in black on the front - is slightly tucked into a pair of plaid boxer shorts. He sighs heavily onto your lips when your fingers first touch his skin, tracing a line just above the waistband.

“You have no idea,” he confesses in a hush, “how long I’ve waited to feel you.”

You gasp when his head dips lower, lips brushing your ear, your jaw, down your throat to press a trail of chaste kisses along the base of your throat, his tongue darting out to flick kitten licks over your pulse point. “Yoongi,” you sigh, “you don’t have to wait any longer.”

“Y/n?”

Yoongi groans at the distant voice that breaks the silence. “Please just ignore it,” he mutters under his breath. “He’ll be fine.”

You bite your lip, ears straining to work out where Taehyung’s voice came from. It sounds like he’s upstairs, the sound lofty.

There’s only a moment of silence, Yoongi nudging your jaw with his nose to tip it back again, kisses slightly more insistent down the column of your throat, before you hear a thud.

“Y/n?” Taehyung repeats, voice calling out slightly louder into the dark of the house. “Did you go downstairs?”

Yoongi lets out a rushed exhale. “Fuck.” Sitting up off of you, he reaches down to pass you Tae’s shirt off the floor. Yoongi’s jaw ticks as you put it back on. “Just tell him you’re busy.”

You send him a look, before stepping up and out into the kitchen, taking the water bottle with you. “Down here, Tae,” you reply. His response is given in the noisy thuds of him coming down the stairs, and soon enough his face pops around the corner, brightening when he sees you.

“I woke up alone,” he says with a playful pout, hands finding your waist to press your bodies together, rocking the two of you back and forth. “Come back to bed.”

You force yourself not to glance over at the couch, feeling strangely guilty. Instead, you smile at Taehyung. “We slept all day. I feel too awake now.”

“Then let’s try out your bath! I saw some bath bombs there. Or we can make bubbles?”

You think you hear a faint huff in the living room but you ignore it, letting yourself be anchored in the slow swaying, looking up at Taehyung. “I’m sorry, Tae, I’m not really in the mood. You can have one, if you want? I don’t mind.”

“But then that’s not…” You see the wheels turning in Taehyung’s head, an excited smile tugging at his lips. “Are you sure? Thank you, Y/n! Come join me if you want!”

He pulls away from you, and an odd stir of relief stirs in your chest. “Have fun,” you say weakly, and he ducks his head to press a kiss on your forehead before turning back the way he came, jumping noisily up the stairs.

In the living room, Yoongi’s head once again pops up over the back of the couch. “Coast is clear?” he questions in a joking tone, but you can’t muster a smile. Yoongi stands up, brows furrowing in concern. “Are you alright?”

You sink back against the counter, staring sullenly at the half-empty water bottle in your hands. “Why do I feel like an asshole, Yoongi?”

He’s beside you quicker than you expect, hands gently pressing under your jaw to lift your gaze up to his. “Hey, hey,” he coos gently, eyes warm with reassurance, “what’s going on in that head of yours, hm?”

You hate the way your eyes water, but you can’t help it. His thumbs are on your cheeks, brushing away the tears as they fall, and you tip your head back in an effort to prevent them, taking a shuddering breath. “I‌ feel so bad for them, Yoongi?”

“For who?”

You sniff. “Namjoon and Tae. The other day, Namjoon told me he- that he-”

“Shh, I‌ know, he told us,” Yoongi murmurs, his own eyes glistening at the sight of you in tears. “Keep going, sweetheart.”

You swallow down the lump in your throat, trying to still your thudding heart. “But he likes me and now Tae is… I don’t know, but I’m worried that he might too, and then… Then I’m the asshole for sleeping with seven people at once.” You shrug with a bitter, teary laugh. “How can I act all coupley with Tae or try anything like that with Namjoonie when I know that I‌ can’t promise them anything?”

Yoongi’s lips part, moving silently as he seeks the right words. After a moment, he sighs, cupping your face one last time before lowering his hands, one rubbing at your back, making you sigh at the comfort. “I’ll be honest, Y/n,” he begins slowly, “I know all there is to know about sex physically, but- In this case, I don’t think I’m the right person to give you advice.”

“It’s okay,” you mumble, wiping your eyes and sniffing to clear your nose.

“No, no, I think you should chat with someone about this, and if I’m honest, I could use some advice too.” You give him a frown of confusion, and he grimaces with a sheepish grin. “When Taehyung called out for you, I’ll admit I wanted to beat that brat for interrupting us when he’d already had his turn. But I shouldn’t think of him or you that way, it’s not healthy. I think perhaps you and I should go upstairs and talk to Seokjin-hyung, Y/n. Do you think you’d want that?”

“He’s probably asleep,” you deflect, though you can’t deny that you could do with an expert opinion at a time like this.

“Probably,” Yoongi agrees lightly, pressing on your back to begin guiding you towards the stairs, “but I think he’d much rather you wake him up than agonise over it for hours while he sleeps.”

You take a deep breath. “Yeah. Okay, I’d like to go see him. Thank you, Yoongi.”

“Anytime, sweetheart.” His hand slips into yours as he leads you up the stairs, but rather than anything with deeper meaning, it just speaks of comfort, a squeeze of reassurance as he knocks on Jin’s door, across the hall from yours.

Jin answers after the fourth knock, squinting into the hallway with a yawn. “Jungkook, for the last time, I- Oh.” The annoyance on his face drops, eyes widening with concern even as he blinks slowly, still half-asleep. “Is everything okay?”

“Can we come in, hyung?” Yoongi asks instead. “Some emergency midnight counselling?”

“It’s-” Jin breaks off to look back into his room, groaning at the time. You wince, bracing yourself for a scolding. “Almost five in the morning. I once had a baker schedule weekly sessions for three a.m. before he went to work, this is nothing. Come inside and make yourselves comfy.”

Your shoulders go slack with relief, letting yourself be pulled inside by your still-entwined hands.

Jin’s room is tidy but lived in; the floors are clean of stray clothes or other belongings, but the head of his bed is laden with different sized stuffed toys and the sweet smell of french pear fills the air from a diffuser resting on the window sill. You sit cross-legged and lean against the headboard, grabbing a round white plushie to hug for emotional support. Yoongi sits at the foot of the bed, and Jin comes and tugs on a dressing gown, perfectly spaced between the two of you as he takes a seat in the middle, legs stretched out across the width of the bed.

“Now,” Jin begins softly, and with that one word you feel yourself safe under his authority, cared for. His relaxed but introspective posture, the non-judgemental warmth on his face and the inviting guidance of his tone combine together to ease the tension in your chest. You send Yoongi a quick glance of gratitude, and he smiles back. “I want to begin,” Jin continues, “by reassuring the two of you that you’re both safe, and there’s no time pressure here. No emergency. Whatever problems you’re having, let’s work through them together. I’d love to say this is entirely confidential, however-” Jin breaks off to wordlessly gesture at the blinking red light of the camera aimed towards the bed. “But, it will be kept confidential between us and not spread to the other members of the house. Who would like to explain what’s going on?”

You nod your chin at Yoongi, and he laughs softly, sitting up. “Alright then. The issue of jealousy is beginning to rear its ugly head. Y/n is feeling guilty about it, and I admit I’m not completely innocent of feeling a bit jealous myself.”

“Jealous? How so?”

“Well, look where we are,” Yoongi explains rhetorically. “Y/n’s here to have sex with seven different guys in close proximity. It seems some of the others have begun to get intimacy and romance in the equation.”

You pipe up, clutching the soft toy for comfort. “How am I supposed to reciprocate anything like that when I know I’m going to turn around and let six other guys have a go too?”

Yoongi winces at the wording. “Which is where my issue comes into play. I don’t want to think this way, like we’re all taking our turn with Y/n, because she’s not an object, but at the same time it’s hard to not feel that possessiveness.”

Jin nods, mulling it over for a few moments. “If it becomes a bigger problem, I think we’d be better off discussing it as eight, or however many of us are still in the house. It’s entirely natural to feel romantic inclinations, or possessive inclinations, or guilt over dealing with the two,” he directs the latter at you, “but of course conflict and guilt should be avoided, and in this situation we have to be careful that we monitor our emotions well. Y/n; what is your thought process when you begin to feel guilty?”

You bite your lip, leaning your head back against the headboard with a shrug. “I don’t know, it’s like… It feels wrong to act couple-y or seek out anything romantic with any of you guys because I know I can’t be loyal or commit to being exclusive. But I also can’t stop people from feeling that way. So I don’t know what to do. I’m like- I’m quite literally sleeping with the competition.”

“Okay,” Jin responds smoothly, nodding in thought. “Are you worried about feeling romantic inclinations for members in the house?”

“But then it wouldn’t be fair to the rest who are still trying to do their best in the game,” you point out.

The therapist just smiles softly. “That wasn’t the question I asked.”

Cheeks burning, you stare at the blanket underneath you. You can’t look at either of them. “…Not yet,” you admit honestly, “but honestly, yeah, I’m worried I might.” You glance up again, seeking out Jin’s gaze pleadingly, needing advice. “And what if I liked multiple people? Then they’d be directly competing against each other. It’s messy.”

“We don’t-” It’s Yoongi that speaks up, cutting himself off with a sigh. Jin nods at him to continue after he pauses in uncertainty. Yoongi scratches at his neck self-consciously. “I don’t think we’re all taking this insanely seriously and personally. Sometimes I walk in on Taehyung and Jungkook sharing porn, or Jin-hyung and Hoseok giggling away like two scheming toddlers as they try and make pancakes shaped like dicks.” Jin’s ears go flaming red at this, but he doesn’t interrupt. “We’re all well aware of how crazy this is. Yeah, maybe sometimes we feel a bit possessive over you, or competitive, but on a rational level we aren’t acting like we’re at war, you know? We don’t necessarily… have to be in direct competition.”

Jin gives him another moment in case he has anything else to add, before sending him an appreciative smile. “Very well said, Yoongi. I think as long as we’re all communicative when those issues like jealousy do arise, it won’t cause any major conflicts. Does that bring you any comfort, Y/n?”

You realise once he says your name that your eyes have stopped watering and your chest has stopped thudding so sickly. “Yeah,” you answer honestly, “it does. Thank you, guys. Though I guess- Well, even if you aren’t taking it as seriously as the Olympics, you are still competing against each other. Even if it’s just friendly fire, I’m still torn in the middle.”

“It doesn’t have to be that way,” Yoongi shoots back earnestly.

“How does it not?” you question with a frown.

The two older men share a glance, Jin giving the slightest nod before Yoongi turns back to you. “Producer Sejin said it didn’t have to be one-on-one. If you’d like, we could show you that we can work together.”

“If you’d like,” Jin purrs, a hand reaching out to gently clasp your knee, “we could share.”

“Share me?” you ask weakly. The two of them nod, Yoongi looking nervous, Jin at-ease. “Yes, please.”

“So polite,” Jin says with a teasing smile. “Do you want to go give Yoongi a kiss for me, baby?”

Though it’s a command more than a question, you nod, and toss the stuffed toy aside, crawling forward, over Jin’s outstretched legs to where Yoongi sits, cross-legged like you were. A guiding hand wraps around your waist, pulling you in to straddle him, and you feel a thin bolt of excitement run up your core as Yoongi tilts his head back to look up at you, his honeyed locks falling to either side of his head. He’s beautiful, from this angle; lips so delicate and pink like a cherub, but with a blazing need swirling in his blown pupils. And though you can’t see him from this angle, Jin’s eyes feel like a hot brand on your back, making you shudder.

You link your wrists behind his neck and dip your head down, eyes slipping closed as you finally feel the pressure of his lips rising to greet you. Yoongi’s kisses are still soft and gentle, but the third presence in the room has lit a fire under the both of you, and each movement feels deeper, greedier.

Yoongi’s hand finds your ass as you make out, and he presses you in towards him, encouraging you to grind against him. Still in nothing more than Taehyung’s shirt and a pair of panties, you can feel him achingly hot and hard against you, stiff in the confines of his boxers.

Expecting to hear Jin speak up with praise or teasing words, you jump when instead it’s his hand sweeping back your hair that he begins with, collecting it in a handheld ponytail, tugging just slightly and exposing your neck. You let out a breathy moan into Yoongi’s mouth when you feel plush lips against the sensitive skin of your neck, fingers pushing the wide neck of Taehyung’s shirt to one side, exposing a shoulder. Jin methodically, languidly, places a chain of kisses down your throat and the top of your shoulder. Unlike Yoongi’s butterfly kisses, Jin’s touch is all teeth and tongue, making you feel dizzy with desire.

You whimper at the loss of Jin’s mouth on you, followed quickly by Yoongi pulling away, and your head spins. It’s only a moment, though, before you feel a set of hands finding the bottom of your shirt, the other set unlinking your arms from around Yoongi’s neck, holding them up so Jin can pull the fabric up and over your head, discarding it and running his palms on every inch of bare skin he can see.

Your head lolls back and eyes shut in bliss at the feeling of Jin’s slightly-rough palms stroking your hips, back, shoulders, and you feel him shuffle forward on his knees until he’s close enough for you to feel his breath on the nape of your neck. You bite your lip when he grips your hips, holding you steady.

Your breath catches in anticipation, and suddenly there’s a wet heat around your right nipple. You let out a strangled moan at the feeling of Yoongi’s mouth on you, tongue flicking endlessly over the stiffened peak. “Oh- oh god,” you gasp out, trying to grind your hips against him for some friction, but Jin’s hands hold you in place.

Jin shuffles closer again, and you feel a hand slip round to your front, pressing on your lower chest to pull you backwards, and you whine, not wanting to separate from Yoongi’s mouth, but he leans forward with you, sucking and lapping at your nipple as you fall back onto Jin’s chest, that same hand holding you steady against him as the other one traces lower, slipping beneath the waistband of your panties.

You jump when the tip of his finger first grazes against your clit, eyes opening to look down. Yoongi’s head takes up most of your vision, bobbing obscenely as he lavishes attention on your nipple, taking a moment to wet his fingers so he can flick and rub at your other one. Your chest heaves with his attention, pleasure so sharp it cuts into you. Below that, your legs are spread wide over Yoongi’s lap, your panties bulging with the presence of Jin’s hand. As you watch deliriously, he dips down and slips a finger deep inside you, the angle allowing him to grind the heel of his palm against your clit and stroke your g-spot from inside you at the same time.

You pant, toes curling when Yoongi switches nipples, his mouth enveloping your left peak and leaving the right one glossy with spit and reddened. It’s intoxicating, being between them like this, and you feel your hips begin to jerk against Jin’s hand as an orgasm builds surprisingly fast.

“Are you gonna cum like this?” Jin murmurs, and you nod hastily, choking on your ‘yes’ as Yoongi pulls away slightly, keeping your nipple trapped between his teeth so it’s tugged. “Fuck, she likes that,” Jin comments darkly, and you cry when he yanks at the hair in his hand again, pulling your head to one side so he can descend upon your neck, bites and sucks aggressive enough to make you feel like you’re being devoured.

Being pinned between two relentless sources of pleasure is enough to make your thighs tremble, and your first orgasm is almost silent, given away only by your rushed gasps and the sudden flood of wetness that coats Jin’s hand, the older man cursing as he strokes you harder, letting you ride out the high until you go lax. Post-orgasm, your nipples are too sensitive and you squeak, writhing under Yoongi’s ministrations until Jin pulls the hand from your panties and pushes Yoongi away with it.

Yoongi’s head comes up, and you moan gutturally at the fucked-out look in his eyes. Now that Jin’s hand isn’t in the way, you can again feel Yoongi’s hardness against your clothed core; he must’ve been able to feel Jin’s knuckles rubbing against him with your proximity. Jin’s hand is still hovering in the air between you and, keeping his eyes locked on yours, Yoongi leans in and captures two of Jin’s fingers in his mouth, lips pursed obscenely around the slightly crooked digits as he sucks your arousal off Jin’s hand, the older man groaning behind you as Yoongi thoroughly licks off every finger, swapping his gaze between you and Jin.

“Fuck,” you pant, “you guys are gonna be the death of me.”

Jin chuckles, pressing a final kiss to your neck, which you have no doubt will be covered in vibrant blossoms of colour in a few hours. “Let’s get these panties off, hm? If Yoongi gets any harder, he might run out of blood in his head and pass out on us.”

“Shut up,” the younger man grumbles, but once you get up off his lap he’s flinging his shirt off and pushing down his boxers, no self-consciousness as his flushed cock springs up and smacks against his lower abdomen. Your mouth waters, letting Jin shuck off his own pyjamas before slipping down your panties, a hand lazily swiping over your wet heat.

“Turn around, baby,”‌ Jin commands softly. “Let Yoongi have you first.”

You swallow as you obey, shifting so that you’re facing Jin, back arched to present yourself to Yoongi. He curses lowly, but wastes no time in lining himself up, a palm on your ass to guide you down on his cock, stretching your walls in smooth increments. He gradually thrusts deeper and deeper, slow enough for you to adjust, until you feel him bottom out, less girthy than Jin or Taehyung but more curved inside you, making your mouth hang open.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” Yoongi praises. “Fucking finally.”

You giggle at his desperation, but your grin is fucked from your face with a thrust that knocks you forward, face smacking on the mattress, a moan pulled from your lungs as he rolls his hips, grinding deeper.

“Poor baby,” Jin teases. “C’mere.” You whine as Yoongi stills inside of you, giving Jin a chance to lift you up under the arms, wrapping them around his broad shoulders. Upper torso lifted, your hips are now at a different angle and you cry out when Yoongi begins to thrust again, the underside of his cock now dragging against your g-spot with every movement. Jin lets you tuck your face into the crook of his neck, weakly sucking a hickey into his neck to make him groan, his throat vibrating under your lips.

Soon, though, you don’t even have the energy to do that. As Yoongi picks up speed, you’re rocked violently between two hard bodies, drooling onto Jin’s neck as his hand snakes down to thumb at your clit. You cry out, shuddering as much as you can between them.

Yoongi curses and grips your hips when you clench around him, holding you still so he can increase his pace even more, a low moan rumbling in his throat. “I’m not gonna last long,” he warns. “Can I come inside you, sweetheart?”

“Please,” you cry, nails scratching at Jin’s bare shoulders as he swaps his thumb out for three fingers, rubbing them back and forth frantically in an effort to get you to cum. “Yes, fuck, I’m so close, don’t stop!”

This time, when you reach your high, you can’t stop moaning, the sound muffled by Jin’s shoulder as you’re pinned between the two men, Yoongi grunting as he spills, hot inside you.

You’re still riding the high of your orgasm when he pulls out, and your head spins, incoherent as you’re moved around, and before you know it, a thicker cock is being plunged into you, fucking you into oversensitivity.

As your orgasm fades, so does the fog in your mind and you become aware of the fact that the body you’re now propped up against is Yoongi, his hand in your hair and his teeth on your earlobe, tugging lightly and mumbling praises into your ear as Jin takes you from behind, filling the room with the sounds of skin impacting on skin. Unlike Yoongi’s slender, structured dick, Jin’s cock is a blunt instrument, hitting deep enough inside you that you feel him near your cervix.

“Tuh-too much,” you whine as Yoongi’s free hand snakes down, rubbing at your clit in a perfect mirror of your earlier position.

“Jin-hyung wants to feel you cum too, sweetheart,” Yoongi murmurs in your ear, voice dripping with honey, “don’t be selfish now.”

You keen, eyes tearing up at the excess sensation, Jin’s thrusts enough force to push Yoongi slightly too. Your hands curl around his shoulders, nails digging into his skin enough that he winces, but speeds up his fingers nonetheless, making you squeal. “I c-can’t,” you gasp, legs giving out.

Jin groans and you feel his arms snake under your hips, lifting you up and fucking you back onto his cock with every thrust forward. Your weight is held up by the two of them, tears streaming as you’re forcefully brought to your high a third time.

“Do we need to stop?” Yoongi asks lowly, and you feel Jin’s hips slow, Yoongi’s fingers sliding wetly over your lower stomach instead of your clit. The lack of sensation all of a sudden just makes you sob harder, shaking your head.

“Make me cum,” you plead shakily. “Wan- wanna cum for Seokjinnie.”

Behind you, Jin growls, his hands tightening, gripping handfuls of your hips as he starts up again. “Good girl,” he praises gruffly, “cum one more time for us.”

The time they stopped was apparently enough for your body to recover, because as he returns to his prior bruising pace and Yoongi strums roughly at your clit, the sting of overstimulation is gone, replaced by throbbing need. “Close, Yoongi,” you babble, writhing in the boys’ grip.

“That’s it, sweetheart, make a mess all over Jin-hyung’s cock.”

With that, you’re pitched into an orgasm so intense, it’s almost painful. You feel like your nerves are electric, making your limbs convulse. Unable to stop shaking, you clutch at Yoongi as Jin pulls out, giving your tired body reprieve. You whine when Yoongi leans you back, lying you down on the bed softly, and moments later, hot stripes of cum land on your heaving chest, Jin cursing under his breath.

The two of you gasp, unable to suck in enough breath to fill your thirsty lungs, but Yoongi, who came first, is already fully recovered. You shiver, letting out a groan as he leans down with a cat-like grin, lapping at the cum over your breasts.

“You’re fucking filthy,” Jin pants out, but continues to stroke himself slowly, managing to produce a few more drops of cum for Yoongi to lick up.

The blonde-haired boy leaves your nipples for last, grinning around each peak as you whimper, clutching his hair. Finally, once he’s done, he lifts his face up and kisses you once, deeply, so that you can taste yourself and Jin on his tongue.

“Holy fucking shit,” you exclaim breathlessly, “this show is going to kill me.”

Apparently back to his normal self, Jin pats your cheek teasingly. “Don’t be dramatic.”

You roll your head to the side, partly to escape his hand and partly to glance at the clock on his nightstand. Seven in the morning. You swear. “Fine, it may not kill me but it’ll definitely obliterate my sleep schedule.”

Jin considers this. “Fair,” he concedes. “If it helps, I’ll wake you up in a few hours so you can just call it a nap. And then we can all have a shower.”

“I am not waiting a couple hours to have a shower, thank you very much,” Yoongi huffs, pushing himself up to stand. “I have to brush my fucking teeth.”

“Hey!” the two of you cry in unison.

Yoongi rolls his eyes but a grin tugs at his lips nonetheless. “You should just be grateful I cleaned you up.”

Jin stares as Yoongi hastily slips back into his discarded pyjamas. “I’ll be sure to call you over next time I masturbate, then.”

Yoongi shoots him a dirty look. “Thanks for the fuck and the counselling,” he spits before darting out the door, slamming it behind him decisively.

Jin lets out a dramatic exhale, throwing himself on the bed so he’s lying beside you. “Men these days,” he muses sadly. “Lick up your cum once then act like they don’t know you.”

Despite your bone-deep exhaustion, you snicker along with him, feeling lighter than a cloud. “Thank you,” you say after the laughter dies down.

“For the…the sex or the counselling?”

You turn your head, glancing at him sidelong. “Would it be bad if I said just the sex?”

“Hey!”

“For both, Seokjinnie,” you say with a smile. “And for everything else, too.”

“Like what?” he asks suspiciously, chest puffing in anticipation of praise.

You hum happily, wriggling until you feel comfortable and your eyes slip shut. “Thank you for letting me nap in your bed.”

Jin huffs, but after a few moments, you feel him shift, leaning over you so he can flip the bottom edge of the duvet up and cover you. “Sleep well, little one.”

—

True to word, Jin wakes you shortly before midday, and makes sure the coast is clear so you can stumble across the hall to your room. Taehyung has luckily left by then, though a pool of bubbles rest in the tub. You try not to let the pang in your heart get to you, choosing to shower instead.

With Jin having kept you company, it’s Yoongi who’s manning the kitchen, running it like a military camp.

Taking mercy on your exhausted body, Yoongi lets you sit on the couch, watching their antics from the comfort of the soft leather.

“What the fuck are you doing with that grater, Namjoon?”

You grin at the bewildered look on Namjoon’s face as he looks up at his elder, holding a box grater with both hands as a potato wobbles on the bench beneath it. “You said to grate the potato,” the academic defends weakly.

“You- I-” Yoongi splutters, abandoning the pan he’s heating up to go snatch the metal contraption off Namjoon. “You rest it on the table like this, and then grate the potato against it. Please hurry; we need three big ones to go into the batter mix for the pancakes.”

To the left, both Jungkook and Taehyung are on drink duty, hovering over a sleek shiny machine on the countertop like apes discovering fire.

“Woah, hyung, the water comes from there,” Jungkook gasps, poking at a canister behind the machine. “And then you put the pod in and it becomes coffee. Isn’t that magic?”

Taehyung’s eyes widen, leaning in so his face is directly in front of the machine, where a steady stream of coffee fills a cup below. “But how did it get the coffee out of the pod? Does the machine open it?”

“Maybe it dissolves,” Jungkook muses, and the two coo at it, staring in wonder as the stream tapers off.

“Let’s do another,” Taehyung cheers excitedly, the two boys jumping in unison when Yoongi calls out.

“You’ve made ten cups,” Yoongi snaps, wrist flicking gracefully as he flips a small potato-and-zucchini pancake in the pan. “There are only eight of us, and you don’t even know who likes to drink coffee.”

“I’ll drink them, Yoongi-hyung,” Jungkook pouts, eyes wide like a doe.

“You’re one of the ones that doesn’t drink- Nevermind, fine, go ahead.” He turns back to his pan, slipping the pancake out onto a paper towel and pours more batter in.

Amongst the chaos, almost blending into the stainless steel refrigerator with his steel grey sweater, Jimin watches a pot of ramen with a desolate expression.

By the time Jin comes down and Hoseok returns from his stint in the confessional booth, the rest of you are at the table, fingers itching from the urge to dig in. They wash their hands quickly and join you at the table, allowing the food to be doled out onto plates and the conversation to flow again.

Sitting between Jungkook and Jimin, you take a sip of your second cup of coffee, courtesy of the drinks crew. Since most of them had gone cold by the time the coffee-drinkers finished their first cup, Jimin had taken the initiative to add ice and some milk to one, enjoying it as a cafe au lait, and you’d all followed suit, enjoying a refreshing drink with a hot lunch.

“How’s your week been going?” Jimin asks, and you’d be shocked at the small talk were it not for the intense look in his eyes. He’s feeling you out, appraising you just like yesterday with Taehyung.

You sit your drink back on its coaster, leaning back and letting your eyes wander over the other participants. “Eventful,” you say rhetorically, sending a grin over at him as his mouth twitches down, unimpressed. “Sorry, that’s a no-brainer. A lot of them so far have really surprised me.”

“Who?” he questions, and you can’t help but hold back a sigh. He frowns, surprised at your sullen reaction.

“Listen, Jimin,” you say slowly, appreciating the bubbly chatter that keeps your conversation private, “I appreciate your dedication to this, but we don’t always have to talk sex and competition, you know? Can we have a genuine conversation? I really want to get to know you.”

His eyes drop, face falling. It’s the first sign of what’s behind the facade, and you want to see more. When he looks up again, he’s sporting a rueful smile and you marvel at how boyish his face looks, how innocent. “Sorry. Work-mode. I think I’m… I’m starting to realise that I maybe don’t have to be on all the time. At least, not around you guys.” His eye twinkles. “I’m sure I’ll slip up from time to time and go back into it. Feel free to tell me if I’m being an asshole.”

You mock-pout, letting out a whine. “Well, I can’t say it now, because you’re not being an asshole.”

“Save it for a rainy day, then,” he remarks coolly, and you’d think he was back in his persona again were it not for the grin still on his face.

“Looks like we’ll be getting one soon enough,” you muse. “Namjoon says it’s raining all weekend.”

Jimin laughs, and the sound is like the tinkling of wind-chimes, airy and melodic. “I’m sure Namjoon isn’t too happy about that.”

“No, he seemed pretty-” You cut yourself off, staring hard at Jimin. “Why do you say it like that? Is his prompt the pool or something?”

“I plead the fifth.”

“Well, you better hurry up, then,” you quip, “because Yoongi just plead the fourth.”

Jimin’s mouth drops open. “Normally I’m the one making clever entendres. I’m impressed.”

“So was he.”

When Jimin laughs this time, it’s loud enough to catch the attention of the table, everyone’s conversation halts, six sets of wide eyes on the intimidating Park Jimin, cheeks plumped and eyes crinkled as he positively giggles, freezing once he notices the attention.

“Goodness,” Jin remarks, “four days in and you’ve already broken him. He’ll be a sub by Week Three.”

Like a switch had been pulled, Jimin straightens his spine, head tilting to the side so he can level a piercing stare at his elder. “If I were you, I wouldn’t assume you’d still be there to see it.”

The table goes quiet in shock, waiting for Jin’s reaction. He simply shrugs and laughs softly, unruffled by the peacock show. “If I get voted off I can easily watch from home, Jimin. Maybe send in a question for the confessional. I bet you’d miss me.”

Like he’s realised Jin isn’t going to attack him, Jimin relaxes, a hesitant smile gracing his lips. “I’m not sure about you, but I’d definitely miss your excellent cooking.”

Jin’s ears go pink with the praise but from the head of the table, Yoongi’s mouth drops open, chopsticks going slack in his grasp. “Hey, you little brat, I’m the one that made this lunch for you all. Aren’t you gonna miss me?”

“Oh, that’s because you won’t go home before Week 3,” Jimin answers without missing the beat, a sugar-sweet smile on his rosy lips.

Yoongi’s mouth moves, but he has nothing to grumble about. Jimin 1, Yoongi 0. “Of course, I won’t,” he huffs quietly, stuffing his face with a chunk of fried pancake.

The conversation trickles back in, then, and Taehyung pulls you and Jimin into a discussion about a stray dog he’d seen wandering around, and as the eight of you sit around the table chatting long after your plates are empty, your chest feels lighter than ever.

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