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pdriesta · 2 days

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PROLOGUE

“even when it’s bad, i love you”

pairing — trentxblack!girl

genre — angst, angst and more angst

word count — 1.8k (for prologue)

summary — y/n and trent's once strong relationship is strained by his growing distance and her unexpected pregnancy. as they clash over their future, y/n faces the painful choice of leaving behind the love and they love they worked so hard creating. will they overcome their struggles and rebuild their love, or will their fractured bond break beyond repair?

an — i’ve been so excited for this series! it was on my old blog but i never got to start it out. i’m so happy to finally post it! let me know if anyone is interested in a taglist <3

masterlist

he morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a soft glow over the bedroom. y/n lay beside trent, listening to the sound of his breathing, steady and familiar. she shifted slightly, her heart heavy with the weight of everything unsaid between them. even in sleep, there was a tension in his body, a distance that had grown wider with each passing day.

trent stirred, his eyes fluttering open. he turned his head to look at her, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “morning,” he murmured, his voice still thick with sleep.

y/n forced a smile in return, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “morning,” she replied, her voice barely above a whisper. she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong—something more than just the usual stress of their lives.

trent reached out, brushing a strand of hair that fell out of her stain scarf from her face. “you okay?” he asked, concern flickering in his eyes. “you’ve been quiet lately.”

she hesitated, wanting to tell him everything that was on her mind—the worry, the fear, the uncertainty that had taken root in her heart. but the words caught in her throat, and instead, she just nodded. “i’m fine,” she lied, the weight of her own doubts pressing down on her.

trent studied her for a moment longer, his brow furrowing slightly. he could see through her facade, but he didn’t push. “you sure?” he asked again, his hand lingering on her cheek.

she leaned into his touch, closing her eyes for a moment, savoring the warmth and familiarity of him. “yeah,” she said softly, opening her eyes to meet his gaze. “i’m just tired.”

trent sighed, his own exhaustion seeping into his voice. “you’ve been sick a lot lately,” he said, his thumb tracing circles on her cheek. “maybe you should see a doctor, get checked out.”

y/n swallowed, the knot in her stomach tightening. she hadn’t told him about the nausea, the way she had been waking up every morning with a churning stomach and a feeling of dread. “i’ll be okay,” she said, forcing a smile. “i just need some rest.”

trent didn’t seem convinced, but he nodded, not wanting to press her further. “if you’re sure,” he said, his voice laced with concern. he leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. “i’m heading to training in a bit. you want me to pick you up from work on the way back?”

y/n shook her head, the weight of her secret growing heavier with each passing second. “no, i’m good,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady. “i called in sick today. i just... i don’t feel well.”

trent’s eyes darkened with worry. “you’ve been sick a lot lately,” he repeated, his hand slipping from her cheek to her hand, squeezing gently. “if you’re still feeling bad tomorrow, promise me you’ll go to the doctor.”

she nodded, not trusting herself to speak. trent searched her face for a moment longer, then leaned in to kiss her softly. “take care of yourself, yeah?” he whispered against her lips before pulling away.

trent didn't say much more of how she was feeling because he was already deep in his own head. his mind was a maze of doubts, insecurities, and the weight of expectations that had been pressing down on him for weeks. as he pulled on his training gear, his thoughts were a tangled mess of worries about his performance, his place in the team, and the gnawing feeling that he wasn’t enough—not for his teammates, not for the fans, and maybe, just maybe, not even for her.

y/n watched him get out of bed and start getting ready, her heart aching with a mix of love and fear. she could see the lines of stress etched into his face, the weariness in his movements. he had been carrying so much on his shoulders, and she knew how much he doubted himself, how much he questioned his worth, even though he would never admit it.

but he couldn’t say any of that, not when he knew how much y/n was already dealing with. so he kept quiet, hoping that his silence would protect her from the storm raging inside him. he didn’t ask why she’d been so quiet lately, or why she’d been sick so often. instead, he just leaned down to kiss her forehead, his lips lingering there a moment longer than usual, as if trying to pour all the words he couldn’t say into that one gesture. he paused, to look at her, his eyes softening. “i love you,” she whispered, the words spilling out before she could stop them.

trent’s expression softened, and he leaned down to press another kiss to her forehead. “i love you too,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “more than anything.”

“take care of yourself, yeah?” he murmured, his voice soft but tinged with an edge of desperation. he didn’t look back at her as he left the room, the door closing with a soft click that echoed in the stillness.

but as he pulled away, y/n couldn’t shake the feeling that love might not be enough to bridge the growing distance between them. she watched him leave, the door closing with a soft click that echoed in the silence of the room.

the quiet settled over her like a blanket, suffocating in its intensity. y/n lay back against the pillows, staring up at the ceiling, her mind racing with a thousand different thoughts. the nausea that had plagued her for days returned with a vengeance, and she curled up on her side, clutching her stomach as if that could somehow ward off the dread that had taken root inside her

as soon as he was gone, y/n curled up tighter on the bed, the emptiness beside her feeling more pronounced than ever. she had seen the way his eyes had darkened with worry, had felt the tension in his body when he kissed her. but she couldn’t bring herself to voice her fears, not when he was already carrying so much. instead, she buried her face in the pillow, her heart heavy with the weight of everything unsaid.

after a while, she forced herself to get up, her body moving on autopilot as she reached for her phone. her hands trembled as she dialed the familiar number, and when her mom’s voice came through the line, warm and comforting, y/n felt the floodgates open.

“mum,” she said, her voice strained and broken. “i don’t feel right. i’ve been sick every morning for a while now, and... and trent’s been so distant. i don’t know what to do.”

her mom’s voice was like a balm, soothing the raw edges of her anxiety. “oh, sweetheart, that sounds awful. have you been under a lot of stress lately? sometimes that can make you feel sick.”

“i guess,” y/n replied, though the words felt hollow. “but it’s more than that. something just feels... off. i can’t explain it, but i know something’s wrong.”

there was a pause on the other end of the line, and y/n could almost hear the gears turning in her mum’s mind. “y/n, when was the last time you had your period?”

the question hit her like a freight train. she froze, her mind racing as she tried to remember. she hadn’t even thought about it, too wrapped up in everything else—the tension with trent, the constant nausea, the overwhelming sense of something being wrong. but now that her mom mentioned it, she realized it had been a while—too long. panic began to set in, her heart pounding in her chest.

“i... i don’t know,” she whispered, her hand unconsciously resting on her stomach. “mum, do you think...?”

“it’s possible,” her mom said gently. “why don’t you go get a test, just to be sure?”

“no,” y/n said quickly, the word spilling out in a rush. “i mean, i’m not ready for that. trent and i... we’re not ready for kids. we talked about it, but it was always something in the future, not now.”

her mom’s voice was soft, soothing. “i understand, honey. but it’s better to know. and if it’s positive, we’ll figure it out together. you won’t be alone in this.”

y/n’s mind raced, a whirlwind of thoughts and fears that threatened to consume her. “but what if i’m not ready?” she whispered, her voice trembling with the weight of her doubts. “what if i can’t do this? i’m too young, mom. i don’t know how to be a mom. what if i’m not good enough?”

“oh, sweetheart,” her mom’s voice was thick with emotion. “no one ever feels ready. but you are strong, and you are capable. if you’re pregnant, then this baby is already so loved, just by being a part of you. and you have trent, and you have me and your dad. you’re not alone in this, y/n. you can do this, one step at a time.”

y/n’s tears flowed freely now, her chest tight with a mix of fear and love. she clung to her mom’s words, letting them anchor her in the storm that raged inside her. “i’m scared,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

“it’s okay to be scared,” her mom reassured her. “but you’re not alone, y/n. you have so many people who love you and will support you, no matter what happens.”

after a lot of convincing and a few more reassurances, y/n found herself at the pharmacy, staring at the rows of pregnancy tests. it felt surreal, like she was watching someone else’s life unfold. her hands shook slightly as she picked up a box, paid for it, and headed back home, her mind numb with fear and uncertainty.

the next hour was a blur. y/n sat on the edge of the bathtub, staring at the test in her hand, waiting for the timer to go off. the minutes dragged on, each second feeling like an eternity. her mind raced with thoughts of what this could mean—how it would change everything, how it might push trent even further away.

when the timer finally beeped, y/n took a deep breath and looked down at the result. two lines. pregnant.

her world tilted on its axis, and she felt like she was drowning. tears welled up in her eyes, and before she knew it, she was crying—deep, heaving sobs that shook her entire body. it wasn’t that she didn’t want children. she did, but not like this, not now. she felt too young, too unprepared for the responsibility that was suddenly thrust upon her.

y/n tried to calm herself, taking deep breaths and reminding herself that trent would be there for her. he loved her, and they had built a life together. but as she sat there, alone in their bathroom, she couldn’t shake the feeling that everything was about to change, and not for the better. she clutched the test to her chest, her tears soaking into the fabric of her shirt . the only through running through her mind was one question, “what am i going to do?”

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shadowuponstorm · 2 days

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You're Gonna Get Us in Trouble

Reader is the newest member of the 118 and is a huge rule follower. So what happens when her secret relationship almost comes to light when a certain Diaz can't keep his hands off of her? Oh, did I mention that the reader is Bobby Nash's niece?

I'm not sure if this should be a warning, there are some spicy sentences (regarding f!oral receiving and squeezing of the ass), but they don't qualify this as smut fanfic, in my opinion! If I'm thinking incorrectly, please tell me in the comments or message me.

I woke up to the sound of my phone vibrating on the nightstand. Reaching my hand over, I turn the phone towards me to see the contact name, "Uncle Bobby," taking over the whole screen. I silently curse before answering with a "Morning, Uncle Bobby. Did you need something?"

"Sorry to be waking you up before shift, but I was wondering if you could run by the store to grab some essentials for me," Bobby says as I feel the other body beside me starting to move.

"Yeah, sure. Do you have a list?" I asked as I felt a pair of lips kissing a trail behind my ear and then stopping at the one spot that makes me shiver, "Actually, can you text it to me? I still got sleep on my mind to remember all of it."

Once Bobby told me that was completely fine, I hung up the phone after we exchanged love you. I turned to face Eddie and slapped him on his bare shoulder before scolding him, "He could've heard you!"

"It was worth the risk," Eddie said as he leaned closer to kiss me, "When are we eventually going to tell people?"

"It's bad enough that he keeps overhearing Buck talk about the bruises on my neck. It's going to become worse if he finds out I'm dating one of his 'boys' after he warned me not to," I respond as I sighed before telling Eddie it will be soon.

Eddie and I have been dating for six months, which has been the best months of my life. He has all the qualities that make him amazing, sweet, funny, always knows how to take care of me when the situation calls for it, and he's attentive.

"Amor, keeping us a secret has to be eating away at you. It can't be good for you," Eddie whispered as I remind him how I'm a follower and nobody expects me to start bending the rules just because I'm dating a fellow firefighter, "Well, I've got an idea that will help keep your mind off of it."

"Edmundo, no, we only have 15 minutes before we have to report for a shift," I said as Eddie smirked before pushing up the shirt I was wearing, making my lace panties come into view.

"I only need 8 of those minutes," Eddie whispered while his head disappeared under the covers as his fingers trailed my underwear down my legs before moving them back up to spread my folds.

"Eddie-" I started to laugh before letting out a moan from feeling his tongue enter me and I run my hand through his hair before balling into a fist to pull at it, which in turns, makes him groan out into me.

Let’s just say, it took exactly 7 minutes and 20 seconds for Eddie to make me come from just his mouth. After I “finished”, we got our showers, put on our uniforms, and left my apartment in our separate vehicles before he heads to the station while I head to the store.

“Wow, your mystery man certainly is a leech,” I hear Buck shout as I rush over to him and slammed my hand over his mouth before telling him to shut the fuck up.

“Is this the same guy or a different one?” Howie asks as I explained to him that I’m not that type of girl, “I’m just saying, no judgment here. Buckaroo here knows what it’s like.”

“Hey, come on, that was years ago! I’ve now since quit that,” Buck complains as I laugh and told him that I knew that he has since changed his ways.

I head over to my locker and started putting my stuff in there before I feel someone tap my shoulder and whisper, “Why is Diaz on your shirt?”

“Wait what?” I asked in a panic as I try to look in a mirror before I hear Hen laughing and I groaned before saying “Real funny, Hen.”

Hen is the only one who knows about mine and Eddie’s relationship, since she caught the two of us getting a little too close for comfort at an event for the department. Turns out, she has a bet going with most of the boys that Eddie and I would end up together so she offered to keep the secret if I help her win.

“So, you were a little late this morning, I take Eddie took his sweet time?” Hen teases, making me laugh before explaining that Bobby called asking for me to grab some essential for lunch or dinner, “Wait, did Bobby hear him?”

"Almost, can you imagine how embarrassing it would be if my uncle has heard his niece ‘getting some loving’?” I said as Hen snickers and starts to laugh before I smack her arm, harshly whispering, “It’s not that funny!”

“What’s not funny?” I hear Uncle Bobby asked, so I swiftly responded nothing before he gives me and Hen a concerned look.

“She was just telling me about how she’s embarrassed she burnt herself with the curling iron again,” Hen responds as Bobby shook his head and said “You’ve been getting quite a lot of those bruises lately, try to be careful next time alright?”

“Of course Uncle Bobby,” I told him as he walks away, before I turned my attention back to Hen, “I’m going to murder Eddie.”

Hen laughs again as she walks away towards upstairs, leaving me alone in the locker room. A few minutes go by before I hear the door open and footsteps enter.

“Hola Amor,” I hear Eddie whisper in my ear as I feel his hand move down to my ass to squeeze it.

“Eddie,” I warned him while I reached back and removed his hand, “You’re gonna get us in trouble.”

Eddie then moves me around, facing him before putting his hands on my hips and whispering, “With who? Everyone’s upstairs and we’re alone.”

“Even if they are upstairs, this room is like a glass house,” I whispered back as Eddie shook his head and leans in to give me a kiss.

“You worry too much, maybe your uncle will be happy you finally found a handsome man who swept you off your feet,” Eddie says, making me smile, before he continues with, “And maybe he won’t be too mad that his two firefighters happen to be dating.”

“You don’t understand how overprotective Bobby can get, especially about family,” I respond before sighing, “Ever since he’s lost his wife and kids in that fire, he’s been beating himself up mentally. Heaven forbid, something happens to me, to Athena, to May, to Harry, to anyone in the fire family under his watch, I fear he’s could go back into that spiral that made him fall off the wagon.”

“While I can’t exactly say I’ve been in your shoes witnessing that part of Bobby, I do know what it’s like to be overprotective about someone you love,” Eddie says and before I could say I know he’s meaning Christopher, he continues, “I never told you this but before I was to re-enlist to provide money for Christopher’s medical bills, Shannon left us to go take care of her mother. She begged me to go with her, but all I was focusing on was making sure I could give Christopher everything he wanted or needed. She called me selfish for doing so.”

“Edmundo Diaz, nothing about you is selfish. Your son was born with complications and has cerebral palsy so he’s bound to have medical expenses at some points of his life. That kid is so lucky to have you as his father and don’t forget, you had an army standing right behind you helping you out with whatever you needed while you were working various jobs to sustain a living,” I reminded him, which made him give me the biggest smile I’ve ever gotten from him, before he kisses me again, but this time with passion.

“Damn it!” We heard someone shout before we pulled apart and jerked our heads to the sound, Buck.

“Pay up gentlemen,” Hen says as Eddie and I exited the locker room, “Thanks to you two, I’m now $40 richer.”

“How long has this been going on?” Chimney asks before glancing his eyes over to my uncle.

“Are you mad?” I asked, nervous for his reaction since like I told Eddie, he’s overprotective about family.

Bobby then starts making his way downstairs and walks toward me before pulling me into a bear hug.

“There is no way I could be mad about my niece being happy with the man she loves,” Bobby says before I squeezed him back, “But really, how long have you two been together?”

“6 months,” Eddie and I both said before Buck asked if Christopher knows, which prompts Eddie to answer with, “He knows, he’s been very excited about the two of us.”

“When did you tell him?” I asked, curious how Christopher has managed to keep the secret.

“He actually drew a picture of the three of us and when I asked him why he included you, he said you were like a second mom to him. Always there when he needed you or there if he wants to talk to you. He also had suspicions when he saw my contact name for you on my phone,” Eddie responds, making me laugh before I ask him what it is.

Eddie takes his phone out of his pocket and pulls up the contacts before scrolling to the name he has for me, which made my heart melt.

“Mi Amor Por Siempre, which translates to ‘My Love Forever’ in English,” Eddie explains as I try not to cry about the meaning in front of everyone.

“I wonder what your contact name is for him,” Buck pipes up as I laugh at the random outburst.

“Mi Soldado, my soldier,” I said, making Buck confused and he then asked me if it would’ve made more sense for it to be my firefighter, “Eddie may be a firefighter, but he was a soldier first. Still is even if he’s in a different profession, he soldiered through single parenthood, war, and especially soldiered through fire. I couldn’t be any more prouder of him.”

“Now you two are perfect for one another,” Hen says as Eddie dips me and kisses me, making everyone hoot and holler at the scene.

Suddenly the alarm rang and the voice came on to tell us where we were needed. While everyone is hustling and bustling to get ready to leave the station, Eddie whispered, “That wasn’t too bad, was it?”

I smiled before saying, “Definitely not,” as I put my hand in his and we start racing toward the truck, with not a care in the world who’s watching us be in love anymore.

#eddie diaz #eddie diaz imagine #911 abc #911 imagine #ryan guzman #ryan guzman imagine #911 show #911 smut #eddie diaz smut

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little-elenaarchive · 2 years

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#i dont care ill do whatever i want: ooc #woke up from a bad dream #in a lot of pain #log on to mobile which is always dumb bc it doesn't block the posts i have blocked #see two things right away that make me so fukkin angry #now im just sad #laying in bed wishing i didn't exist #because depression is the best #and im tired of being alive #i hate the holidays #i miss her so much and i shouldn't #and i just want to stop loving her #its been a year get over it #amd id love to but i cant no matter how hard i try #i still break down and sob over the dumbest shit #because of her #i still wake up and expect her to be sleeping on call with me #its like my brain remembers everything and fills in the empty space and i just hear her little snores #and her cats fucking around in her room #her shifting in her sleep #two years #for two years she was my entire world #what am i supposed to do without her #im happy she seems happy #its all i ever want for her #to be happy #i just miss when it was me that made her happy #because i was happy too...

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parfaitblogs · 18 days

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daylight ❀ s. reid x reader

in which communicating with your boyfriend is scary, and spencer reid can't stand to see you cry.

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader genre: comfort/fluff! tags: reader avoids her issues... for a little bit. that's kind of it. it's just fluffy and simple! word count: 1.5k a/n: something short & sweet because i thought it was cute and i write the most when i'm procrastinating assignments... um… inspired by a conversation sam willow and i were having a few nights ago🫂 reminder that pretty girls cry when they’re confronting somebody!!

Spencer Reid was not oblivious to all things in the world. In fact, he was rather perceptive compared to most people. Psychology degree and human behaviour-based job aside, he noticed things.

A lot of it was good. He knew exactly how to wake you up on mornings he started earlier than you. How to keep you half-asleep enough to allow you your return to sleep, but also awake enough to ensure you'd remember him kissing you goodbye (there had been an argument a few months ago about it — you thought he had left without a word). He knew your go-to Thai order from the restaurant down the street, and he knew which pair of wooden chopsticks your favourite were to pull out of his kitchen drawers.

He was also observant enough to know something was wrong.

He was back from a case. A long one, that had worn him down enough that he felt like a pile of creaking bones when he re-entered his apartment earlier that afternoon. You had returned from your own job an hour after that, and despite the initial excitement that came from your boyfriend being back in the state again, you were a bundle of nerves.

And he knew that.

You were on his couch, legs across his lap and back up against the arm, his hands resting comfortable in the dip between your two knees. There was a quiet episode of New Girl playing on the television (you had convinced him to watch it after he had sat you through every Star Trek movie), but your thoughts were anywhere but the sitcom you had been using to entertain yourself as of recent.

"You've been awfully quiet," Spencer said, piercing the less than comfortable air settled around you two.

"Sorry," you answered, tearing your gaze from the screen to look at him, meeting a worried expression you had somewhat expected.

Hands ran up and down your legs, erupting goosebumps along the skin. "Is something wrong?"

"No," you immediately shook your head and forced a smile onto your face. "Nothing's wrong."

He furrowed his eyebrows, lips parting in that confused look he always had on his face when he was thinking, and he stared at you for a few seconds longer, before, "Yes there is."

Profilers. "Seriously, Spence. There isn't. I'm just kind of tired tonight."

"I am as well," he said, hands stilling on your legs rather abruptly. "I was in Idaho for a week. I'm also exhausted. And usually my girlfriend is a little touchier and more talkative than this when I come home. So I'm assuming something's wrong."

"You're assuming incorrectly, then," your shoulders shrugged.

He said your name chidingly, and it was at that tone of voice that you retracted your legs from his lap, instead tucking your feet beneath yourself, gaze dropping to the couch cushion.

"I just missed you," you told him, a slight stretch of the truth.

"I missed you too," he said, and your shoulders softened. "But that's not all it is."

You blinked, before you fell silent, shaking your head instead.

"Talk to me. What's happened?" his voice was achingly soft, your heart shattering in your chest to the point you wanted to take back every thought you'd had over the past week and burn them to ashes. They didn't mean much now in front of him. Not when he was reminding you of how kind he was.

"You barely talked to me," you said, hands dropping to your lap, and you fidgeted with them under his gaze. "I never knew what was going on. You didn't call once, except for when you landed."

"I was really busy, honey," he answered, and you could hear the frown in his voice. "If I had time to do anything other than the case and sleep, you know I'd have talked to you more."

"I know," your voice shook, and you could feel your emotions overriding your brain. As usual. So, you kept your head down. "But I would've liked you to tell me that, at least."

You heard him sigh, and curiosity got the best of you as you lifted your gaze, inspecting to see if he was sighing out of irritation or not. He wasn't — just exhaustion — and that made you feel a little better.

"I know for next time then," he said, and he met your eyes, which had watered since the last time he looked at you. Which wasn't very long ago, and so he was drawing his eyebrows together, again, confusedly. "What's that? What's wrong?"

On instinct he leaned forwards, and you let him shift his body closer to yours, hands coming up on either side of your neck. You sniffled, trying to suck the tears threatening to fall back into your eye sockets.

"I can't communicate," you mumbled, quietly, a tear escaping and dripping down to the lower half of your cheek.

"You communicated pretty well just then, angel," he said, voice soft as he caught the remainder of the tear and swiped it away with his thumb.

"Yeah but—but now I'm crying," you moaned, pathetically, more tears slipping down your face. His lips twitched — though not in humour, you noted — as he adjusted his hands to your jaw, thumbs continuing to wipe falling tears.

"Yeah. That's okay," he answered. "You've got a flood of hormones going through you right now, and so your body reacts to it in the best way it sees fit. In your case, it's tears."

"I hate it," you mumbled, and this time he did laugh a little, nodding his head.

"I know," he said. "Are you feeling embarrassed about communicating with me?"

"I guess," you replied. "I don't know. I think I just..." you trailed off as your voice disappeared, breath beginning to hyperventilate acutely. "I—I just feel kind of sil—silly."

You cursed each sob that broke up your speech, and yet his gaze and focus on you never once wavered. In fact, his touch seemingly had grown softer, and the concern in his eyes had only grown.

"You aren't silly," he said, once he was sure you weren't going to continue speaking. "If me not talking to you for a week upset you, I'd say that's pretty reasonable."

"I don't know..."

"Want a secret?" he asked, fingers poking into your cheeks enough for you to crack a small smile. You only nodded your head in response, chest still jolting with each sharp intake of breath. "I have to physically restrain myself from calling you every hour on a normal day."

"You're lying," you mumbled, and his smile only widened, a bashful laugh leaving his lips.

"No, honestly. I have so much I want to talk to you about during the day, and I need to remind myself that you're busy and at work too."

A few uncontrollable tears dripped down your face, and your gaze dropped to the top of his shirt, though the smile never left your face. "I don't believe you."

"I wish you would, but that's okay," he said, evidently seeing right through your defying statement — you believed him a little.

His forefinger and thumb caught your chin, and he tilted your head back up so his eyes could meet your glassy ones.

"I'm sorry," you murmured, before he could get a word in.

"For what?"

"Crying."

"Do you take in anything I say to you?" he chastised, though the smile on his face eliminated any fear of him being genuinely irritated, and so your shoulders simply shrugged.

"Sometimes," you said, and his eyebrows shot up.

"Sometimes?" he repeated back to you, and you had to bite your lip to keep the amused expression off your face. He was smiling back at you, before his face settled into something more serious, as he continued, "I don't mind you crying, angel. It breaks my heart to see it, but I'm not sitting here and judging you for it. You know that, right?"

"Yeah."

"Good," he finalised with a short nod, and you sniffled with a nod of your own.

"I mean, technically, crying is good," you said, tongue poking between your teeth as you forced back a smile.

"Yeah? Why's that?"

"Releases endorphins and oxytocin."

He huffed a single laugh through his nose, nodding his head. "Yes. It does."

"I know things," you grinned.

"You do," he agreed with a nod. "My smart girl."

"Yeah. Don't ever forget it."

"I could never," he replied, and a comfortable silence enveloped your two bodies, your heart fluttering in your chest.

"Can you tell me about Idaho?" you finally asked him.

"You really want to know?"

You nodded your head, and he sighed, but complied regardless. And you eventually found your head in his lap, staring up at him as one hand danced gently over the skin of your slightly exposed stomach, the other entangled in your hair, brushing through it.

And he told you about the case he had been away on — it became glaringly obvious behind why he hadn't called or messaged you at all — and consequently eased any other remaining worries behind it.

And it dried your tears up.

your reblogs and replies are always appreciated ♡

#lia’s fics ♡#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid imagine #spencer x reader #spencer x self insert #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid comfort #spencer reid hurt/comfort

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sunnami · 2 months

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❝like the grass wants to grow, i want to run anywhere that you go.❞

summary. 'a tiny butterfly flapping its wings today may lead to a devastating hurricane weeks from now.' or alternatively, it takes six lifetimes for you to find each other.

pairings. poly!marauders+lily x reader.

word count. 8.9k (i tried to keep it short. i really did T-T)

tags. hurt/comfort, fluff, angst, happy ending. reincarnated/regressor!reader. no specific gender described. not proofread, we die like lucerys velaryon.

cws. brief depictions of death and war, themes of mental health and trauma.

note: lmaoao, as per the poll, here is the time-traveler!reader fic! i didn't cry during the angsty parts so it's probably not that bad.

YOU WAKE UP to a familiar weathered stone ceiling, owls softly hooting beyond the curtained windows, sunken in the mattress of a canopy bed with low snoring on either side of you. There’s a wilting candle on your nightstand, alongside an unfastened leather journal—a whiff of spilt ink under your nose. In your limp embrace, is a plush capybara with a turtle attached to its head. The quilt blanket is entangled between your thighs, the early morning breeze flurrying past the exposed stretch of your belly where your oversized granny-square jumper has ridden up.

It’s only then, when you try curling your fingers and wiggling your toes, that you realize that your body feels as though it had been hit by a shrinking charm.

You sit upright instantly, heart skipping a beat from fright.

No.

You can’t have.

You reach for your brass handheld mirror, tucked away in the bedside drawers.

There is no way you are this unlucky.

Yet staring back at you, is your eleven-year-old self.

Naturally, you end up screaming in frustration—startling the robins idle on the windowsills and all but waking the entirety of the Gryffindor castle. Prefects burst inside the dormitory, wand at the ready and crust in their eyes, in search of a threat only to find you on the verge of hyperventilating.

Bloody hell.

Not again!

Merlin, Morgana and Arthur—you are not going through puberty a sixth time.

“Oh, fuck me,” you mumble defeatedly as you fall back onto the patchwork pillows. Your roommates are gawping at you in horror, the sound of heavy footfalls echoing in the halls outside.

Months ago, you had heard about the gruesome passing of Dorcas Meadowes—you weren’t necessarily close friends with the girl, despite being sorted in the same House, but you would grieve where grief is due.

YOUR FIRST LIFE came to an abrupt end at the age of nineteen, in a quaint coffeehouse where the owner knew your name and the baristas wore a sunlit grin everyday. That day, no one had expected for Death Eaters to wreak havoc in Diagon Alley—it could have been anticipated, if only the Ministry was competent during the onset of the war. But with the extensive list of Muggleborn and half-blood casualties after that incident, Ministry officials had no choice but to restrict certain areas and propose the ‘lesser-breeds’ go into hiding for their safety. This alluded to many families; most condemned to be blood-traitors.

(There had been fleeting whispers of her dying at the wand of Voldemort himself.)

Then, you’d woken up in the four walls of your dormitory. The sensation of being ever-so cruelly struck by the killing curse burning in your chest—a scorching fire, yet bitterly cold all the same. You had sobbed wretchedly, curled up in a shuddering ball of tears until your roommates had called for the prefects. It got worse when they tried to console you—you felt everything still. The panicked cries and screams of the wounded ceaselessly echoing in your head. You remembered the shards of glass sinking into your skin as you dove for cover, Unforgivables apathetically hurled in every direction.

It was not until Madam Pomfrey administered a Calming Draught and an elixir for dreamless sleep that you finally went out like a light extinguished.

Your second life was relatively longer—you had spent it under the supervision of mind healers at St. Mungo’s, after all. For the next thirty years, you’d been confined to a ward on the fourth floor. (Later, you would share this space with a couple who went by the names of Alice and Frank Longbottom.) Regardless of the bleak walls, it was not so bad. The quilts were warm and the assigned matron, Madam Strout, was kind and fussed over you regularly. While the healers had done everything they could, you continued to struggle with discerning what appeared to be your ‘first life.’ (Which one was your true reality? The first? Or the second?) Eventually, all the poking and prodding wore you down. Your fingertips had bruised and brittled. You could not look over your shoulder in fear of finding a Death Eater staring back at you. Night terrors plagued your dreams.

(Your parents who had always embraced you with loving arms—they could not look you in the eyes now.)

Memories bled into newer memories as the days went by. You haunted the corridors with a plagued stare, quickly becoming a woeful canard amongst the residents of the hospital. ‘The hysteric fortune teller,’ they called you. You who spoke of wars and rebellion at the age of twelve—but whose words nobody cared for when Voldemort began rising to power. You who’d gone mad and overwrought. In the end, you believed everyone else.

(See? It must have been all in your head—a wayward spell that unfortunately damaged your memories.)

You’re unsure of how you died, but perhaps, you were never even alive in the first place. There was only so much Draught of Peace you could take before you inevitably became a soulless, sleep-walking husk of a person.

You woke up in the Gryffindor tower once more—this time, you’re careful enough to smother your cries.

If you flinched every time Marlene McKinnon coarsely bellowed Dorcas’s name in the middle of the school hallways, or if you averted your gaze at the sight of Alice Fortescue and Frank Longbottom’s intertwined hands—it was nobody’s business but your own. In this life, you kept your head down, breezing through your homework and exams—although you had seen no purpose in it, at this point. Each morning that you woke up, you wondered if this was a favor from the Gods, or a relentless hell so meticulously-crafted for you.

(But what sins had you committed for them to spit on you as they had done? Surely, you would be granted peace after two deaths.)

You could not tell your family, nor could you ask anyone else in Hogwarts if they remembered fragments of their past lives—for the last time you had done that, you were met with vindictive laughter and cruel gazes.

(At that moment, you had understood Xenophilius Lovegood a little bit more. You never knew how many sought to trample on the wallflowers of the castle.)

And so, you’d kept your head down until the end of your time in the castle. You stayed away from Diagon Alley and surrounding areas, and you willed yourself to perfect the art of apparating—a skill you wished that you had learned earlier.

On the first of November 1981, witches and wizards had come to celebrate the fall of Lord Voldemort—which ultimately meant the death of James and Lily Potter. (You could not come to their funeral the first time around, seeing as you were chained to your hospital mattress that day, inebriated on the third dreamless sleep potion administered to you.)

Under the eyes of St. Jerome, you laid bouquets of white roses and dahlias on their tombstones.

“Wherever your souls are now, I hope you find each other and unearth peace,” you whispered to the two names engraved on the slate, hands clasped together as you rested on the grass. The winds had been cold and biting, a testament to the looming winter that would sweep away the tears on their graves. Like Dorcas Meadows, you did not interact much with James and Lily—but more than anyone, you knew how death was no easy enemy to conquer.

(You hoped their orphaned son would live a life that would not take him too early.)

A few months later, you met your demise to a werewolf named Fenrir Greyback.

As you bled out on the grassfields, you wished for Death to come and take you faster.

When you awakened, it was in the same bed and the same dusty ceiling.

There was nothing you could do but go back to sleep this time around.

After dying pathetically for a third time, a stubborn part of you wanted to fight back—so you did.

Unlike your previous lives, you joined the Dueling Club, supervised by Professor Flitwick himself. Your wand work was clumsy and you stumbled on your incantations. You could not lift your wand without remembering a coffee shop laid to ruin and wreckage or the hardened gaze of Greyback as he sank his teeth into your neck. The times were merciless, your dance with Death even more—but you would not die helplessly again.

As you lay in your bed, muscles aching from dueling practice, you had realized one thing.

You did not want to stain your hands with the blood of another—having grown tired of the Reaper and his antics. If the Gods would not let you rest, then you would not let them take anyone else.

After all, you had the stubbornness of a Gryffindor lion.

For the next six years or so, you devoured your textbooks on charms and healing spells, refining your spellwork until your tongue grew numb and your wrists became sore. When the time came, you followed James Potter, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, Lily Evans, and many more, in joining the Order of the Phoenix. (Perhaps you should have realized earlier that you all were just wide-eyed children on both sides, forced to partake in a war that should have never been yours to fight.)

The First Wizarding War transfigured the years into a blur of mourning, surviving, and fighting in alleys now-bloodied. Even the sun hid behind the clouds, for brothers began turning on one another. You could only find solace in the fact you had kept Dorcas away from Voldemort’s clutches, volunteering to go in her stead during incursions, and Marlene McKinnon alive for another day to see her family.

But for how long could you cheat fate?

Hours before your death, you found yourself in a forest clearing. The campsite was filled with witches and wizards afflicted with severe hexes and curses—a few of Dumbledore’s best fighters screaming in agony from the Cruciatus.

There you found Remus Lupin, bruised and worse for wear, attempting to wrap a bandage around his shoulders in an empty tent.

“You look like you’ve seen better days,” you said in a soft greeting, stepping inside the tent with a forced smile, your collection of potions and jars of herbal pastes jostling in your leather satchel.

Remus chuckled tiredly. “Haven’t we all?”

You gently pried the bandage from his trembling hands and maneuvering yourself at his back. You stifled the urge to cry at the sight of his scars—so violently red against his pallid skin. Compared to your previous lives, you had developed a friendship with Remus and his group of bold marauders—a camaraderie as true as it could be in dire times. (And if providence had been kinder, you could have dared to want more than just friendship.) You poured drops of Dittany onto his shallower wounds, murmuring empty words of comfort as he flinched and hissed.

“It’s Peter,” he rasped, abruptly holding onto your wrist as you turned to leave. “He’s been missing for hours. Please. I don’t know what I’d. . . what I’d do if. . . if. . .”

You squeezed his hand. “I’ll find him, Remus. Don’t worry.”

True to your word, you had found Peter at sundown deep within the forest. There was an unsettling quietude that hung in the air as you trudged to his side. He was kneeling on the muddy ground, head hanging low. It’s only then that you noticed the body laying still in his arms. Violent chills slithered down your spine as you recognized the woman in his embrace.

“Mary!” you cried out, hurrying to them as fast as you could.

“What happened?” you asked frantically, hands in a desperate search for a pulse. When you were met with no answer, you pressed again more heatedly. “Peter! Look at me!” You gripped his chin, heart hammering in your chest. “You have to tell me what happened! I can’t. . . I can’t help her if I don’t know what hit her.” Droplets of tears fell from your eyes down to Mary’s pale cheeks. “I can’t. . . I need—please. . .”

Bloodshot eyes stared back at you. “I. . . I didn’t want to do it.”

“What?”

“I’m sorry,” he croaked, burying his head into the crook of Mary’s neck. “I was so, so scared.”

“Peter, what are you talking about?” You grimaced impatiently when Peter lifted his gaze—but he was not looking at you, rather behind you.

The answer to your question was a killing curse to the back.

An unseen rustle in the bushes that you should have paid attention to, a cloaked figure darker than any shadow; a Death Eater that’d come to ensnare you in a perfectly-laid trap.

(Damn it!)

(Damn it all to Hell!)

You awoke to the sound of your screaming and your limbs thrashing in the bed you’ve grown to despise. There was nary a remorse in your body as your roommates wailed at the sight of your nails drawing blood from your arms. Later that morning, the common room would be filled with talks of your faraway gaze and your scratched-up flesh.

You could not take it anymore.

In your fifth life, you had sought peace—or rather, the most beautiful mockery of it.

You decided to give up your magic to chase a semblance of normalcy. No more wands, no more moving portraits, no more jinxes and pranks, no more owls and wizard robes. Most of all, no more war. (‘But it did not work like that’, Death laughed.) In this life, you wanted what was denied of you in the previous ones.

A family.

A happy ending.

Bitterly enough, the Gods saw fit to give you only one of the two.

You married a Muggle, to your parents’ dismay. He was nice and compassionate—a distant contrast to the ongoing turmoil of the wizarding world. But you could not bring yourself to feel guilt. You had been stripped of everything, which included the privilege to die and lay your soul to rest in perpetuity.

(Who were you, if not a dead man walking?)

Over the years, you would have three children with your husband—three beautiful children born from love, in a world that would not actively seek to take them from you. You raised them all to adulthood, hoping they would not fault you for finding relief at the lack of magic in their veins. Their names were Kinsley, Piper, and Avery—and you had adored every inch of them, from their striking eyes to the tips of their stubby fingers.

On your deathbed, you were surrounded by your grandchildren and your great-grandchildren. An image you held close to your heart as your vision began to deteriorate.

Just this once, you prayed to all that would hear.

Let me die surrounded by my family.

At the age of ninety-one, you drew your final breath.

And when you opened your eyes, you were back in Hogwarts for the sixth time.

TO SIRIUS BLACK, you are a curious little wallflower, albeit a withering one—you who blend among the crowd, with a sad gaze in your eyes and the fretful twisting of your fingers. He doesn’t know why he’s particularly drawn to you—but perhaps he understands, more than anyone, the hesitance of taking up space in fear of punishment for one wrong move. But you look so lost, meandering along the corridors like the ghosts of the castle—but even the spirits seem more alive and colorful than you.

“What is it that they have taken from you?” Sirius wants to ask.

(What judgment has fate placed upon you so—for you to cry each morning?)

There is a raging urge in his veins to reach over and wipe your tears away, but what can he do as a stranger, if not watch powerlessly as you fade into the background?

His fingers feel like they might fall off if they do not entwine with yours. He wants to offer up his shoulders to carry the burdens that weigh down on a creature as lovely as you.

There are times when he and the other Gryffindors catch you crying at the long tables of the Great Hall.

“O-Oh, was I?” Your reply is quiet. Resigned. Sirius has never felt his heart break more than in that moment. You move to weakly swipe at your tears. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to. . .”

“It’s alright, really,” Lily says, her voice strained, the words lodged in her throat. Under the table, she seeks James’s hand for comfort. (How can someone appear to be so lonely and defeated?) “We all have those days.”

“Yes.” You blink away the fresh tears pricking at your eyes, mindlessly pulling at the threads of your woven bandages, a weary chuckle falling from the cracked skin of your lips. “Except, it seems the days never end for me.”

Lily stays silent.

Sirius shares a look with Remus from across the table, an unspoken question hanging between the animagus and the werewolf.

How do their voices call out to the one who so faithfully believes that the world has abandoned them?

But Sirius Black is determined and unyielding—what good of a prankster would he be if he could not bring a smile upon your beautiful face?

He gets his chance during Transfiguration class, when McGonagall instructs the class to pair-up for an activity in turning miniature statues into birds. Predictably, you don’t move a muscle, staring ever-so intently at the sights beyond the classroom windows that you don’t notice the professor observing you worriedly—her lips tightly pressed and her eyes wrinkled with concern. Sirius slams his buttocks onto the wooden chair next to you; the sound of chair legs screeching bounces off the cobblestone walls.

“Hullo, partner.” Sirius grins as he offers you an enthusiastic wave, his dark curls floundering with his energy. He feels the gazes of his best mates boring into his back, but decides to ignore it for now—Remus can live without him for one class. In his mind—a perfectly-reasonable logic for an eleven-year-old, mind you—he figures that you would find class more entertaining if you had the right company. And, Sirius is wonderful company.

You stare at him with furrowed brows and Sirius wishes nothing more than to bring fire to your eyes. “Partner?” you repeat, a tinge of confusion in your voice—a deafening cadence to his ears, as for once, it is not desolation that laces your words.

“Partner,” Sirius affirms with a nod of his head, barely paying heed to McGonagall’s directions at the front of the room—but noting the mention of a prize for the pair who would successfully cast the spell for longer than ten minutes. He takes your silence for uncertainty, and replies with a light-hearted scoff—finding the pout on your lips adorable. “I’ll have you know I’m a bloody master at Transfiguration. Not even James could match me in this class—okay, maybe he could, but that’s not important, is it? Point is, with me at your side, Minnie will have no choice but to give us a hundred points!”

From the frown on your lips, Sirius gathers that you’re unimpressed by him—a first, but not a total setback.

He seizes the small box of porcelain figurines before you can blink, a wry smile on his face as he wrangles a boastful laugh from his throat. “Ready to have your mind blown? I’ve been practicing this spell since last night. There’s no way I’m getting this wrong.”

“Oh, I’m Sirius Black, by the way—at your service.” He holds out his hand for you to shake, wondering what your palm would feel like in his. Cold? Warm to touch? Or, perhaps, a perfect fit—just as Lily’s hand feels laced with his?

He doesn’t find the answer to his question. Instead, you draw your wand from your robe pocket, and point the tip of the wood at the earthenware at Sirius’s grasp.

“Avifors,” you recite delicately—such a flawless incantation that Sirius hears Merlin himself weeping in the depths of his grave.

The figurine grows feathers and a beak—Sirius and the rest of the students can only watch as the weebill flutters its wings and soars through the roof.

He’s stupefied. Breathless, one might say. But not because of your little trick—rather, the growing smile on your lips as you watch the bird fly across the room. Your eyes flicker with mischief, and like a man on the edge of a cliff—what is Sirius Black to do, but fall?

THE END OF YOUR first-year at Hogwarts draws near, and so does the springtime—a coveted season for lily flowers to bloom. The April winds find you out by the lake edge, swinging your legs idly on a marble stone bench where the cypress vines grow along the cracks. Songbirds fly overhead as the daylight glistens on the surface of the Black Lake, a beech tree in the near distance, butterflies dancing past the gnarled trunk. Pollen floats like dust in a cupboard under a staircase. Ducklings waddle after their mother as riverine rabbits scurry on into the tall, purple nettles. On days like this, you find it easier to settle into your new life—but, perhaps, you have your friends to thank for that.

Yet, as you find yourself wanting to reach out to their outstretched hands, flashes of children with your hair, your eyes, cheekbones whittled to resemble your own, haunt you. Their pure and gentle temperaments, painfully akin to their father’s. You mourn them every day. Their names are forever inscribed in the locket of your soul. (You did not find it fair—you who live again, and they who disappear forever. An existence that would cease to be—all because you fear what awaits you in this life. Why must it be you who should walk this land with a body scarred by wounds no one else can see? Why must it be you who mourns the loss of your family, your friends, and all your loved ones—everyone murdered by the Gods who spit on the five graves with your name written on it? Why? Why?)

Do you dare to live a life without them? Is it fair to deprive them of a chance of being a family while you waste away on the Isles? You may have lived multiple lifetimes, but not once have you been given the answers you seek.

You will not find happiness without them; it is as you deserve.

(For why else would Death torment you so if you are seen as innocent in their eyes?)

“How did I know I’d find you here?” A sing-song voice emerges from the trees, and you’ve no need to turn your head—the sound of Lily’s bright cadence is one you’re familiar with. But, somehow, you’ve grown fond of her voice, more acquainted with her smile and laugh than you’ve ever been in the last five lives. (You have to wonder if this friendship is one you’re permitted to enjoy.) Her grin is blinding, more so than the afternoon sun behind her. Lily’s wavy hair falls over her shoulder as she plops down on the empty space beside you. “We didn’t see you at lunch today,” she says, looking ahead, the warmth of her hand inching closer to your own. “I figured you didn’t want a bunch of whiffy boys around.”

Then, she looks around, searching for any prying ears, a stream of giggles falling from her lips. “Although, I must warn you—their pockets are loaded with food stolen from the hall, saying they’d give it to you when you returned to the tower. But I think Minnie caught onto them.” She chortles, a fond gaze in her eyes.

You hum in thought, a smile unknowingly pulling at your lips. “Thank you, Lily. It’s sweet of you to come and find me.”

She harrumphs light-heartedly, snootily lifting up her nose. “Don’t get too used to it. We’re only just best friends, after all.”

A silence encompasses the two of you, sitting under the shade, pink fingers shyly intertwined. Lily allows the minutes to flow by like a breeze on the waters, until she stares at you with thick emotions flickering in her emerald eyes. She nibbles on her bottom lip, long lashes kissing her eyelids. “Are. . . Are you alright? Is it one of those days again?”

You grin at her question, impishly nudging her legs with yours. It’s a gesture you deeply appreciate—befriending you and growing closer to you in ways you imagine are never in your cards. But Lily is only eleven, and you will not act upon your selfishness. (But, maybe—just maybe—you are allowed to relish in their company until you are called once again to your deathbed. In the next life, they might not know your name as they do now, and the revelation frightens you immensely.)

“I’m okay,” you say, a gnawing lie that sounds unconvincing to even your own ears. You stare at the flock of swans diving in the lake. “I was just missing a few friends back home.” You remember the toddlers that you used to call your own—their spittled possessiveness toward anyone who dared to snatch your attention away from them. “I don’t know if they would be happy with me going off on my own adventure,” you say, sparing Lily a knowing look. “They are—erm—Muggles.”

“Oh.” Lily nods, mulling over your words. “Tuney. . . my sister. She sort of resents me ever since I left for Hogwarts. We live a world apart, and it barely helps that she ignores me during the holidays.” She sighs, averting her gaze elsewhere, a grimace pulling at her mouth. “Sometimes I wonder if all of this was never meant for me. That I was just a fluke. Why do I have magic and not her? Any day now, I expect for McGonagall to come and ask me to pack my bags and head straight home.”

“But,” says Lily, her eyes resolute and her fire unwavering, “until that day comes, I will enjoy every bit of this world as I can. Tuney will just have to deal with that.” She offers you a mellow smile—a likeness to a kind husband that you had once in a past lifetime. “Besides, I think those who truly love us will understand the paths we must take. Even if it means parting ways for a long time. Your friends will not blame you; they’ll want you to live truly and freely.”

Her words sink deep into your bones, and you can’t help but let out a hearty laugh. You simper at the confused tilt of her head. “Wise words, Lily Marie Evans. Are you sure you’re only twelve?”

Lily beams. “Mum likes to tune into the Sunday motivational-talk channels.”

(“The ones we love never really leave us, do they?” Sirius Black will tell you one day, when you’ve bared to him the truth of your lives, and he looks at you no differently than he has before—with all the adoration and fondness of his heart.)

Later, before you and Lily make your way back to the castle, you pick three flowers among the chicory weeds. She stays behind as you kneel by the riverside. For the children you have loved, and will continue to love for eternity. Droplets of tears fall onto the water, joining the floating blue petals. “I’m sorry that I cannot find you as you are,” you whisper, a heavy weight lifting from your shoulders. “But I hope that we meet again in this life, whichever names you may take.”

(After all, what love is stronger than one that perseveres across endless lifetimes?)

You carry them in your heart—letting cherished memories remain as such. Otherwise, you’ll be chasing what can never be again. It would be an injustice to their names to try and replicate a shallow imitation of them. They deserve more than that—to be treated like a pawn in Death’s game. They were alive and you will honor them befittingly.

You bid them goodbye and allow the tethers of their soul to untangle from your grasp.

It is the most difficult farewell—and yet, the easiest act of mercy you have ever carried out.

‘THE FLAP OF a butterfly’s wings can evoke a hurricane in the next world over.’

This is a phrase you’ve come to be familiar with over the span of your numerous lives. It has never been truer than the moment you step outside the infirmary to find a group of mismatched Gryffindors waiting for you in the halls. Their heads snap in attention at the sound of your footfalls. In an instant, you’re crowded with their questions and worries—but you find it endearing, the way your friends fuss over you. It’s certainly a welcome change from a past spent by your lonesome in the castle. (You only wonder what makes this life so different from the rest? Why is everything changing without you noticing? What will be taken from you for this deviation in time?)

“How did it go?” James asks, now seventeen and captain of the Quidditch team, wavy tendrils of brown hair swooping over his round glasses. The broad of his chest fills out his red and yellow jumper, crocheted by Lily over the yule break—the five of you, including Peter, Marlene, Mary, and Dorcas, have matching sweaters as well.

Except, you like to tease them with a jest that Lily made yours with the most love—as no one else had the pattern of a capybara with an apple on its head.

“Well enough,” you answer, patting his shoulder with a tired smile that reaches your eyes—for how could one not cheer up in the face of James Fleamont Potter? That would be saying the skies do not brighten in the company of the sun.

By incontestable decree of Poppy Pomfrey, the headstrong matron of the castle, you are required to meet with a mediwitch from St. Mungo’s twice a week, since the start of your fifth-year. Healer Robbins floos to Hogwarts on Wednesdays and Saturdays to check up on your health, physically and mentally. Of course, you don’t divulge anything about your time-traveling dilemmas, lest you end up confined to a hospital ward again for the rest of your years. But you do end up addressing—albeit, begrudgingly—the dried tear stains on your pillowcase every morning, your wayward habit of purposefully missing meals, or your tendency to withdraw yourself from your peers on certain days—which coincidentally happen to be the anniversary dates of your deaths. (If no one would grieve for you, then you’d do it alone.)

Who’d have thought that healing would be much more tortuous than hurting in the quietude of your room?

But one thing is for certain—this is a suffering you will endure with greed and hunger.

For today’s session, Healer Robbins suggests you proactively live in the present more—which is easier said than done.

“Although, she did tell me to stop slouching all the time,” you inform James, scrunching your nose in feigned offense, to which he replies with a hearty chuckle, pulling you into his embrace for a side hug. You burrow your nose in his scent of oakmoss and orris root, a lingering touch of broom polish as well—you feel the warmth of his hand splayed out on your back, and hide your grin into his chest.

“Well, someone had to tell you,” says Regulus Black with a scoff, arms crossed over his chest, yet no genuine heat in his trenchant eyes. He looks pleased that you return unharmed from your meeting with Healer Robbins. Funnily enough, you’ve no doubt that the famed Black temper would emerge should you utter so much as a single word against the mediwitch. (You like her, though. Some days, Robbins lovingly spiels about her clumsy-footed wife—and in return, you talk about your sad feelings. Eurgh. Talk about a fair exchange.)

Among the many divergences in this life, one of them is the unforeseen friendship you have forged with Regulus Arcturus Black. But that story begins with Xenophilius Lovegood, when you stumble upon him in the Forbidden Forest chasing after a family of bowtruckles with a fervid expression and a journal in one hand. You protect him from foul-mouthed Ravenclaws, and he allows you to tag along in his woodland escapades—including a lifelong access to the kitchens beyond curfew. His lack of regard for personal safety is both endearing and maddening, you realize early on. One stormy night, you chase Xenophilius into the forest—he is barefoot, following the Mooncalf hoofprints, as you spit out strings of expletives and mouthfuls of rain. That is where you find Regulus, groaning in pain and carrying a burden that is much too heavy for a fifteen-year-old.

Then, a year later, they decide to give you a heart-attack when you discover that Pandora and Xenophilius have taken Regulus under their wing—figuratively and literally. And, most of all, romantically.

You’re more speechless than Sirius had been when you catch him one fateful evening.

(“Don’t do it, Sirius Black,” you greet, startling the ebony-haired boy as you step out from the shadows. The common room is silent, save for the crackling embers in the fireplace. You stare at the sixteen-year-old with a vehement resolve, your hands curled into fists. If there is one fixed event you had to live through over and over again, it is the news of Severus Snape being nearly mauled to death by a creature so feared and gruesome. You will not let it happen in this life. His eyes flicker with shame amongst a sea of gray, and he knows that you know about his abhorrent idea of a ‘prank.’

You sigh, taking another step forward, hand coming to rest on his tense shoulder. “Let it go, Sirius. It’s not worth it. Bringing someone to harm is never worth it. If he dies, his blood will be on your hands—and you don’t want that, trust me. Be kind to him, Sirius—and even kinder to your brother. The two of you are all each other has.”

“Not true,” Sirius whispers back, almost afraid, his fingers tracing the curve of your cheeks. “I have you, Prongs, Lily, and Rem.”

“And Remus is exactly who we should be with right now,” you reply with a harsh glare. “Not in the common rooms trying to one-up Snape because of some childish rivalry.” With a long sigh and a shake of your head, you push back the dark curls from his face. “The times are cruel, Sirius. We must hold onto what we can.”

His forehead will fall onto your shoulder, and your shirt will be soaked with his tears, but you realize that you will hold him, and all those who’ve captured your heart, until Death himself pries you away from their embrace.)

But, it all pales in comparison to the horror in Sirius’s eyes when you point at Regulus and Peter, as you utter with absolute conviction, “They are my dearest friends.”

While Peter may have been a traitor in another life, a murderer with blood and guilt staining his hands—he is only a skittish boy in this one. A timid student who hides behind the shadows of his friends. You will not let him go down that path again. The Peter Pettigrew you currently know is a mousy little thing, pun intended, who sneaks in a pouch of sugared jelly worms in the library for you and him to enjoy whilst copying off each other’s Arithmancy homework—you two automatically get perfect marks, seeing as you’ve went through school multiple lifetimes already. Truthfully, when you see him tongue-tied before Mary Macdonald, you can’t envision anything else than a lifeless body and a man apologizing for his sins. But it is hardly fair to condemn Peter for the sins of a life he has not lived—and will never live through, if you have anything to say about.

A lion protects their pride, and that is what you shall do. Even if it tears you apart in the process. (Healer Robbins won’t be so pleased about that, though.)

But, perhaps, the most unexpected surprise you’ve received this year is—shockingly—not the news of Dorcas and Marlene dating, and neither is Alice and Frank’s relationship as you have already known that since your first life. It is James, Remus, Lily, and Sirius announcing to the world, with a poorly-written poem for a gnome to recite on Valentine’s Day—courtesy of James Potter himself—that the four of them are in love. In all five lives, that has never happened. Not even Lucius Malfoy can call into question the genuineness of their devotion to one another—and he will not dare to do so in your presence, otherwise he’d find himself at the mercy of you and Narcissa Black.

The four of them are happy as one, and you would die to ensure they stay together until the end of their time. Dark lords be damned.

An even bigger shock comes when their affection for each other unspokenly extends to you. Not in a manner that equals their rambunctious gestures—because the Marauders don’t do anything half-arsed. (And if they fall in love, they fall without fear.) But in a way that is quiet yet intense, ever-so mindful of your walls—with an intention to break them down slowly and only with your utmost permission. They leave you confused with each day that passes. (You fear that they think you pitiful for having not found a significant other.)

(For months now, your heart is set aflutter just by the sound of their voices—if they look at you as a token charity case, it would tear you apart.)

Forehead kisses, hand-holding in the corridors, late nights in the kitchen—tipsy on gillywater and the scathe of each other’s touch. Picnics by the lake, bodies intertwined where no one knows where they begin or end. Ventures in the library where not a soul is paying attention to the passages of their textbooks—hushed giggles turning into unrestrained laughter until Madam Pince rounds the corner and has you all thrown out. (How long has it been since you felt so free?) It’s the little things, like your fingers brushing against theirs as you walk side-by-side, or the soft glint in their eyes as they stare at you from across the room—as though you are a jewel to behold.

It is one thing to know that you are living a life after life—but it is another thing entirely to feel alive when they are nearby.

You are alive when Remus relaxes on the carpeted floor of the Gryffindor tower, and as you lay on the velvet couch, he draws protection runes on your palm with his finger. When he thinks you’re asleep, he presses a kiss to the back of your hand. When the nights are unbearably long and you find a safe haven in his embrace, and he in yours.

You are alive when James cages you in a bear hug after an intense Quidditch match against Slytherin, limp tendrils of hair clinging to his sweat-soaked skin, pressing a series of fervent kisses to the side of your head until his voice is louder than the cries of victory coming from the cheering stands.

(“Lay back down, James Fleamont Potter,” you command tersely as you push him onto the infirmary bed. You narrow your eyes at the bandages wrapped around his arms and neck, as though it’d personally wronged you. “Don’t even think about getting up,” you quickly add when you notice his droopy eyes staring at the doors—where Sirius, Remus, and Peter have gone off for a night of mischief. With an exaggerated sigh, James will roll his eyes before pulling you into the bed with him.)

You are alive when Lily scours the Great Hall in the mornings, hair fussed from sleep and her face bare, and when her eyes finally land on you—none misses the way she lights up blindingly, as if she were a poppy flower emerging from the forest floors and all her petals are curling towards the sun. She bounds over to you with a smile that draws everyone in the room to her. And your heart will have no choice but to swell three times its size when Lily falls asleep mid-meal, snoring with her neck bent and a spoon dangling from her mouth.

You are alive when Sirius dashes across the room to claim you as his Potions partner. He’ll spend the rest of the class with a triumphant grin on his face—sitting on a rickety chair as he lazily admires the view of your backside. And may the Gods help the poor soul who dares to question your work.

(“See that lovely creature over there?” Sirius will say with a dangerous lilt to his voice, pointing to you who’s quite busy squabbling with Severus and Barty Jr. over frog legs. “They will be the greatest apothecary to ever walk the wizarding world—so watch your tongue, mate.”)

They are your limbs, the blood in your veins—the ache in your heart. The fires of your soul. And when they are near, you are finally whole. (Healer Robbins certainly won’t like that, either—but this is a thought you shall selfishly keep for yourself.)

That is why you had come to a decision at the beginning of the year.

“I need to tell you all something,” you say, breaking out of your stupor and finally meeting everyone’s eyes. You meet Sirius’s gaze from where he leans against the wall, his attention on you—and only you. You reckon he notices the way you’re fidgeting nervously with your fingers, gnawing on your lip as you suck in a deep breath. It’s similar to the way he acted when he first told the group about his intentions to run away from his mother. Healer Robbins told you earlier to not dwell on the past—it’s only a thing that time-travelers do, she had said. You suppose there’s no better way to exercise honesty than to tell your loved ones about the secret you have been keeping for the last five lifetimes. You just hope they won’t look at you differently when all is said and done.

Marlene’s gaze worriedly flickers from you and to the infirmary doors. “Has the mediwitch said something?”

You shake your head. “There’s something you should know about me.”

Like a badly-written joke, a pack of lions, a snake, and a badger follows you into an empty classroom. They watch with furrowed brows as you cast a silencing charm over the room. You feel the weight of their curiosity as you take a seat in the center, drumming your nails on your lap as everyone moves to do the same. Remus wordlessly takes the seat next to you, as though being by your side is a natural phenomenon—like the shores never straying from the sand. He gives your hand a gentle squeeze and you return his kindness with a weary smile. You look at the protective circle that’s somehow formed around you. Marlene, Dorcas, Mary, Xenophilius, Regulus, Lily and the Marauders. (Since when did you gain a family like this in such a short time?)

“Where do I even begin?” you ask with a shuddery breath. “It might get a bit intense. . . and sad, and I wouldn’t want to overwhelm you. So it’s okay if you aren’t prepared to take this all in yet. I’d understand.”

“What one of us goes through, we all go through together,” Dorcas vows with her head high. “It’s not the first time we’ve done this, love,” she says, looking at everyone else in the room. “We’re here for you. Always have been. It’s what friends are for, aren’t they? You taught us that. Let us return the favor now.”

You laugh wetly, eyes crinkling with gratitude. “I suppose you’re right.”

There is no time like the present.

And if all goes awry, you probably might just jump out of a window and reset everything. (You wouldn’t, really. This life is precious to you more than anything in the world.)

You close your eyes and draw air into your lungs.

No time like the present.

“When I first died, I was only nineteen.” Despite the pinched expressions and soft gasps, you force the words out. You have to. Otherwise, the tale of your lives will be buried with you forever. This is the first time you have ever said the words aloud. It’s both exhilarating and terrifying. “Death Eaters came to Diagon Alley. It all happened so fast, next thing I knew the killing curse was cast straight at me.”

Regulus flinches, and you offer him an apologetic grimace.

“But that wasn’t the end,” you continue amidst their horrified wide-eyes—feeling Remus tighten his hold on your hand. You chuckle bitterly. “If it had been, maybe it all would’ve hurt less. When I woke up, I was back in the Gryffindor tower.”

“What?” Lily frowns as a shadow is cast over her eyes. “But how?”

“I wish I knew,” you reply with a lodge in your throat, eyes thick with incoming tears. “I really wish I knew. But I woke up back in Hogwarts. I was alive again. Somehow, someway, I was alive. But I was dying.” You shut your eyes, head craning to the ceilings as you swallow back a sob. “Have you felt what it’s like to be burnt alive? That’s what the killing curse is like. And I feel it everyday. When I told the nurses this, I was sent straight to St. Mungo’s. They could not heal what was not found in my body. They called me mad. And there was nothing I could do but believe them. It was like that until I died on an infirmary bed, leather straps around my wrists and legs, forbidden to leave the ward and feel even the sunlight on my face. I was deemed a threat to the others and myself.”

Lily beats you to the punch and cries into her hands—the harrowing sound torn from her throat. Mary, with her own stream of tears, pulls Lily into a hug.

“I-I told you it was ugly,” you say timidly, averting your gaze out of remorse. “We can stop here if you’d like.”

“We’re staying,” says Lily with a guttural edge to her words, eyes quickly growing red.

“Then, in my third life, I died by a. . . Greyback—it was Greyback who killed me.” You intertwine your fingers with Remus’s, who’s gone ashen from the reveal. “It’s alright.”

“The bloody hell do you mean it’s alright?” James bellows, running a hand through his hair as he tears himself from his seat, chest heaving up and down. “None of this is alright! How could you say that? We. . .We should tell Dumbledore or something—or anyone! This shouldn’t have happened to you—it’s just too cruel. . .”

“I know,” you acquiesce with a low hang of your head. “I know.”

Sirius exhales jaggedly. “Was that the last of it? Of your. . . your deaths?”

“No.” You stare at him with regret. “In my fourth life, I died in a Death Eater ambush.”

Xenophilius looks like he might faint any second.

“But in my fifth life, I met some people in the Muggle world,” you explain, remembering kind eyes and wide smiles, a family made in a home far away from magic and wars. “I loved them dearly. When I thought I was being punished by Gods, they gave me peace. They taught me unconditional love and I. . .” You let the tears drip onto your skirt. “I might never find them again, but I’ll never forget them for as long as I live. It was the only death given to me without pain.”

You watch as Lily’s doe-eyes flicker with realization. Three flowers in a watery grave.

“And here I am now. The end,” you say, forcing a crooked grin as you brush the dust off your school robes.

No one moves a muscle for the next few minutes.

You freeze in fear.

(Have you upset them? Do they see only a talking corpse now?)

The room is suffocatingly quiet and you can’t bear to see the pity or judgment in their eyes—so you run out of the room as though Death himself was hot on your heels.

They are right behind you—of course, they are. (Where a part of their soul goes, they will follow.)

“Are you angry?” You quietly ask, wrapping your arms around your waist—afraid to turn around and face them. “I would not blame you if you are.”

“No, not mad. Never.” Lily falls into place by your side, hovering but never stepping past your erected borders. “Maybe at the circumstances. It’s all so unfair. I’m. . . We’re just upset that you had to live through that all alone. To die over and over. I can’t imagine how much it must have hurt each time.”

You nod, swallowing the urge to crumble on the floor. “Then you’ll understand why. . . why you and I—all of us—I can’t be with you.”

Remus frowns, stepping forward to reach out to you. “What?”

“Don’t make this any harder than this has to be, please,” you beg, voice hoarse and hands trembling.

“What the hell are you talking about?” Sirius presses further, a bitter acid to his words. He looks frightened, almost—guilt instantly pools in your stomach.

“Don’t you see? Everything is changing!” You exclaim, grateful that you’ve chosen the abandoned corridors of the castle where no one dares to venture on a sunny day. “I can’t protect you if I don’t know what’s to happen next! I’d rather die again than let any of you get hurt.”

“Then don’t!” shouts James, veins straining against his neck, tears of his own glistening within his hazel eyes. “I would rather die than pretend none of what I feel—what we feel—for you isn’t real.”

“You don’t know what you’re saying, James,” you retort with a sharp scoff. “I’ve no need for a relationship that’s borne from pity or charity.”

“Pity?” Lily echoes incredulously. “You think I’ve confused love for pity? Is that how low you think of us? After all that we’ve been through?”

“Are you stupid?” Sirius bites back.

“Excuse me?” you shriek. “Must I spell it out for you? I’m trying to protect you! I am cursed!”

“Not anymore than I am!” Remus bellows with his fists tightly clenched, his canines laid bare and his cheeks lit ablaze. “If you’re cursed, I must be damned. Why can’t you allow yourself the same grace that you’ve given us?”

You wilt. “I can’t do it, Remus. I just can’t. If I die again, and everything resets—don’t you know how much it will kill me if we start as strangers again?”

Remus encases you in his warmth, an embrace that promises to keep you safe from all harm. (What good of a monster would he be if he can’t rip apart your fears for you?) “Then we will find you in that life. And every life after that. We’ll use a pensieve, or anything at all—just so we don’t forget.”

You melt in his arms, bathing in his scent of caraway and bergamot. You feel Remus placing a kiss on the crown of your head. “All these things I know. All these lives I’ve lived through. What if I ruin everything in this life?”

“Then do it,” Lily provokes stubbornly.

“Ruin me,” James pleads raspingly—a falter in his steps as though he’d get on his knees and beg in an instant just for you to stay with them. “Ruin me as much as you’d like. You would be the most beautiful devastation of my life.”

And so, you choose them.

For there was never any other option from the start.

YOU WAKE UP in the dead of the night, sunken in a mattress that is one too small for five people to fit in, leafy vines and fairy lights wrapped around the posters of the bed. Sometime during the night, Lily had thieved the wool blanket for herself. You rest in between her and Sirius, their snores echoing into your ears as the grasshoppers chirp outside. The potted plants will swing from the ceiling as the evening breeze passes by. (You’ll scold James in the morning for leaving the windows open again.) By your feet, is a fat Tabby cat with one eye named Tuna. (Full name: Tuna Belly.) There are moving pictures on the flower-plastered wall, a testament to the life you share—and the life you have fought hard for. Ruffled pillows are strewn across the carpeted floor. Parchments and notes lay askew on the desk table across the room—Remus’s jittery preparation for his first day next week as Hogwarts’s newest professor.

Remus will catch you wide awake and tuck you into his chest, murmuring, “Rest now. We’ve got an early morning tomorrow for Wormy’s wedding.”

You’ll hum and relinquish your thoughts for the night, holding onto James hand over Remus’s belly. “I love you,” you’ll whisper.

Remus will say it back without hesitation—and you know the others feel exactly the same.

Minutes later, the door will creak open and a tiny shadow will come crawling into the bed, knocking into everyone’s knees and stomach. It’s a little Harry who’s three years old now. He curls under your neck and you will hold him with all the love that six lifetimes can offer and more.

When you close your eyes, it is a comforting darkness that envelopes you.

(Somewhere in a castle beyond valleys and lakes, locked away in the dusty shelves of Dumbledore’s cupboards, sits a broken Time-Turner that finally stops ticking.)

a/n: i wrote the last 2k words like a woman posessed! LMAO. i have to be at training in 2 hours and i haven't prepared yet. tell me what you thought aaaaa!!!! and yes, your sixth life is your last life so u die happily and in peace mwah mwah. might continue this universe with drabbles, idk. if u spot any mistakes.. ignore it for a bit LMAO, i'll proofread this soon.

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rottenaero · 3 months

Text

They were gonna put Eddie down like a damn dog.

The group had insisted that Steve visit the hospital today, one year and two months after the incident. It was a random day, and he thought, ‘ why the hell not?’

Family Video had been closed for months, doing ‘ repairs’, so he really didn’t have much else to do.

He thought it was weird, the way the group was as far away from the bed as possible, and how when he entered the room, Hopper almost blocked the exit.

He doesn’t question it though, sidling up to the open chair beside Eddie, who was still asleep after all this time, and punching his shoulder lightly.

“ Hey, Hero.”

He’d taken to calling it sleeping instead of what it was, a coma. Sleeping sounded more peaceful, because with sleeping came dreams and relaxation.

Eddie doesn’t respond, doesn’t react. Steve didn’t expect him to.

He turns his head to Dustin, the one who’d called him in the first place. “ So, why’re we gathered here today? Any updates?” He asks, addressing the whole room.

The boy swallows, and something tells him something’s wrong. Really wrong.

“ Yeah, actually. Uhm, since it’s been so long, we were thinking-“ He cuts himself off, crosses his arms and starts tapping his foot. Thinking, probably.

Hopper glances to him, and sighs, deciding to lead. “ We’re gonna have to let Munson go.” He states.

Steve takes a sharp breath.

“ What?”

‘ Let him go’ like this is a job. Like this isn’t him losing his life. He wonders when they decided to do this, in the hospital room for the ten minutes they were waiting.

Eddie doesn’t give any indication he hears what’s being said, the beeps from the heart monitor still steady and even as ever. A constant metronome of the exact same sound on the exact say beat, all the time, always.

Except maybe not always.

Dustin takes over again, arms placating. “ It’s been a really long time, Steve. We’ve come to terms that he probably won’t wake up, and it’s doesn’t have to be sad-“

“ You’re killing him.” He hisses, “ You’re killing him and it’s not meant to be sad?”

Nancy steps forward, seeing it as her time to speak. “ Steve. You barely knew the guy, and you spend all your time here, it’s not good for you.”

“ There’s been no good signs, no nothing, not even when El looks into his brain.” Dustin nods at the girl across the room, who’s fiddling with her fingers.

Steve furrows his brow, “ Oh, so I guess you’re gonna pull the plug on Max too?”

Lucas’s eyes widen, mouth dropping open, and Nancy glares. “ That is not fair, Steve.”

“ This whole situations pretty fucking unfair, so I guess you’re gonna have to explain to me how this is different from Max.” He stands, stance wide as he points to the man in the hospital bed.

“ Max is making progress.” Lucas says weakly, and El sets a hand on his shoulder. The boy deflates.

He turns toward Hopper and Joyce, the latter still not having spoken. The Byers family had moved back to Indiana for God knows what reason, and Steve knows that if he had the money, that he could’ve moved somewhere else long ago.

“ Does Wayne know you’re killing his kid?” He asks.

He’d met the man while visiting, and they’d usually sit in silence and watch baseball or whatever was on. He never questioned why Steve was there, or why he was holding a limp body’s hand and taking off it’s rings and putting them back on.

When they did speak, it was stories he had from Eddie’s childhood, about how he buzzed his head because a spider crawled on him and he was convinced it was hidden in his hair, making babies.

Hopper pinched his nose, like he was being a pest. “ Stop using words like killing, and yes. He said he didn’t want Eddie to have to suffer, and his bills are getting expensive.”

And he blinks, realization dawning.

This hadn’t just been decided, had it? This wasn’t a ten minute decision while Steve was getting ready to come here.

He speaks, his voice low and keeping even through each word, “ You guys had a meeting.” The ‘ without me’ goes unsaid, but still echoes throughout the room like if would’ve if he shouted it.

They’d decided this whole thing beforehand, somehow knowing that Steve would hang on. And he would, will. He can’t let him die, he can’t lose.

Will nods, and next to him Mike and Dustin look ashamed. He would’ve thought they’d hold out more.

He racks his brain for any reason they should keep alive, can’t find one. Somehow, even without one for them, he has a million for himself.

“ If the bills are the reason, I’ll pay the damn bills. He’s fucking alive.” He tries.

“ You don’t have a job, Family Video is closed. Just let it be, Steve. Please.” Robin had been eerily quiet during this entire conversation, and it brings him chills him when she speaks.

His best friend had been in on it.

He crosses his arms, “ I’ll get a job. Listen, I’ve been having dreams,-“ He lies. He lies because there’s nothing true to prove Eddie is getting better. “-dreams that he’s alive in like a dark space, I don’t know- his mind maybe? I just- I really think he’s in there.”

The hope Dustin gets on his face hurts, but he doesn’t care. The guy will wake up and it won’t matter that the ‘ dreams’ never existed.

Maybe it’s because he’s an optimist, and that’s why he’s trying so hard, as pessimistic as he can be sometimes.

“ Why didn’t you tell us?” Dustin asks and Steve licks his lips.

Why didn’t he tell them? “ Despite all this crazy shit, me having dreams that he’s alive still sounds crazy.” He doesn’t look at the boy as he says this, eyes roaming over Eddie’s face.

He looks serene, the bat bite on his face as healed as it can get. The doctors had mentioned swelling on his back shoulder blades, but Steve thinks his would be swollen too if he sat on them for a year.

‘ A year and two months.’ He corrects himself.

He stares at the hair that, occasionally when it got matted, Steve would go through and brush it, not wanting him to wake up to being bald because a doctor seemed it necessary.

Wayne mentioned how much he hated the shaved head, and he wouldn’t put him through that again.

As he looks at him, he thinks ‘ I’m doing this for you, so you better wake up, asshole.’

Dustin’s eyes are wide, staring at the members of Hellfire. Steve could only describe the look as ecstatic.

“ Holy shit, I mean, holy shit!” He laughs, and Mike breaks into his own grin.

Jonathan chimes in, disbelief sketched into the lines all over his face. “ Sorry, but doesn’t that seem too convenient? I’m not saying you’re lying Steve, just… If El didn’t find anything, that’s pretty much it.”

His lips form into a line, determined. “ I told you, I’ll be paying for whatever. It’s no skin off your back, or money out of Wayne’s pockets.”

Joyce nudges Hopper when he goes to speak, and nods at Steve. “ If you wanna try, sweetheart, you can. But I don’t want you visiting too much, it’s doing you more harm than good.” She wraps him in a hug, before leading the ex-chief of police out of the room.

Slowly, everyone vacates, until it’s just Steve, Eddie, and El.

She doesn’t make a move toward the door, eyes locked onto his face.

“ You’re lying.” She whispers like a secret.

He nods.

She looks toward Eddie, nervous, and she messes with the hem of her shirt when she starts to speak again. “ I lied too.”

She doesn’t elaborate, walking out of the room without anymore information, and Steve blinks.

The hospital has to call Wayne to confirm the transfer, that's how he learns of the circumstances. He doesn't say much of anything, aside from a promise of a visit on Tuesday before he hangs up.

That night, that same fucking night, he gets a call.

It's the front desk lady, voice distressed rushing through an explanation.

" Eddies gone...Only blood in his bed...We don't know where he is."

Steve stares at the wall, the rest of the words falling upon deaf ears.

Someone had probably found out where he was being held, murdered him a year later for his crimes, and stashed the body away.

He sets the phone back in its holster without saying anything to the other line. Not even a goodbye, or a thanks.

He thinks, it only for a second, that he should've let them just pull the plug, it would've been far less painful.

A creaking brings him out of it, and his eyes dart to his door.

It's dark, too dark, and Steve's aware the Upside Down fucked him up in incomprehensible ways, and now every shadow looks like something,

But there was definitely someone in his house.

He keeps slumped on his bed, the same position as when he'd answered the call. He doesn't flinch when the door pushes open enough for a body to slip in.

There's the sound of something dragging along the carpet as they come closer, probably a shotgun, or maybe they're gonna beat him with his own nail-bat.

He doesn't care to decipher the shape, instead shutting his eyes.

A hand grabs his, sets it on dry skin. His thumb touches a rough patch, a scar like feeling.

One his hands had roamed over while patching up his stomach, refusing to get looked at. That concave patch of scratchy skin that they tell you eventually will just be soft, scarred, but normal.

The skin stretches, and he feels a cheek.

Somehow, he thinks if he keeps his eyes shut, he doesn't have to face the thing in front of him, that it somehow isn't real.

A scratchy, disused, and croaky voice sounds out.

" ' Hey, Hero.' "

#stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #eddie munson x steve harrington #steve harrington x eddie munson #camazotz eddie munson #rottenaero #rottenaero rots #rottenaero writes #steddie drabble

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daycourtofficial · 5 months

Text

Ferocious beasts with soft bellies

Pairing: Eris x Rhys’s sister!reader | WC: 2.5k | warnings: mentions of pregnancy, some violence from dogs

Summary: Eris’s hounds know you’re pregnant before either of you do, driving the two of you wild with their newfound devotion to you.

Author’s note: hi everyone!!! Thanks for joining me this week, I hope you had a great time!! This one ends on a note I didn’t expect it to, but I do have plans to write follow-ups I kinda wanted to break this up into two. Also this is part of my gingerfucker series, but can be read as a standalone okay love ya bye 😘

Eris’s hounds were incredibly well-trained. He spent thousands of hours when they were pups instilling in them commands, tracking and hunting skills, and alerting him to intruders on the property.

At least, they used to be well-trained.

These days Clover, the leader of the pack, would not allow you out of her sight. All twelve hounds wandered through your house as they pleased, often keeping you company in Eris’s absence. They would lounge about, finding warm sunny spots throughout the house to take afternoon naps in. You’d usually have one or two lazily trail you around the house, staying in the beds you had placed in several of the rooms.

Lately their attachment and sudden devotion to you was getting out of hand. Clover was practically sewn into your side the way she followed you around - she hardly let you out of her sight, keeping an eye on you at all times, following you as you moved through the house. She was even beginning to ignore Eris’s commands, opting to stay at your feet, following you around the house, or with her head curled on your lap.

When you and Eris publicly began your mateship, you had begged him to allow the dogs into your shared bed. “Just one,” you had pouted, “I don’t like waking alone.”

Despite his grumbling, Eris had obliged your request. Things with your family were still quite rough - it had been almost a year by now since you left the Night Court, being unceremoniously abdicated from the throne. You had been in contact with most of your family by this point except for Rhysand, who was still refusing to speak with you since he forced you out of ‘his court’, as he had called it.

Despite your best efforts, Eris still felt guilty over it, the rift in your family caused by the discovery of your mateship. You usually tried to soothe him, not wanting him to feel guilt over the decisions you made. You would choose him over and over again, and problems with Rhysand or any member of your family were not going to stop that from continuing. Besides, his guilt would be better suited as ire towards Rhysand.

Sometimes you did use his guilt to get what you want.

Which is why it initially did take Clover much coaxing to jump into the bed at all, a notion she thought ridiculous at first, but once her paws melted into the mattress, she was quick to lay directly on your side of the bed, placing her head atop your pillow.

“Traitor,” Eris had muttered as you cuddled up to her, petting her soft head.

After getting her into the bed, Clover spent most nights curled up at your feet or by your side, your nights often spent squished between her long body and Eris’s. Soon enough, you were back to asking Eris for another one to sleep in your bed.

“So Clover doesn’t get lonely.”

He spent ages debating with you that no, she doesn’t need a companion in bed with her. It was ridiculous. The three of you were enough for one bed, and he hated to think of how a second hound would complicate things.

He didn’t want to admit it, but he did quite enjoy it when he’d throw an arm around you in the middle of the night and his fingers would meet Clover’s soft fur from the other side of you.

It also soothed some minor worry in him to have you protected from all sides, despite your being more than capable of defending yourself. The mating bond was a precious gift, but it was also a minor curse with the way it coursed through his veins, needing to protect you, to keep you safe, and to keep you both satiated.

“Er, our bed’s plenty big enough for more hounds.”

“Yes, but they’ll get too spoiled. You’ve already turned Clover rotten.”

“I have done no such thing,” you cross your arms, trying to look utterly appalled at his accusation. He gives you a pointed look, then turns his gaze behind you.

Your gaze turned to the hound seated behind you, her long limbs spread across your bed, her little leg kicks and soft snores bringing a small chuckle to your lips that you quickly turned into a scoff.

“That proves nothing.”

In the several months since allowing Clover and Cinnamon in your bed, they were still obedient. They left the bed without disturbing you in the mornings, they rotated who laid next to you and who slept at the foot of the bed, and they would never go to bed without either you or Eris prompting them to.

That all stopped a few weeks ago.

Eris’s hounds had always been fond of you - Eris had spoken of them for centuries before you were able to see any of them. The way he had spoken of them had helped you see he was capable of caring about something that wasn’t himself.

That was its own revelation.

Meeting the hounds was quite nerve-wracking for you - he told you they were quite cold to new fae, and they had detested Lucien’s overeagerness to befriend them - a grudge they still held many centuries later.

“I believe they smelled the desperation leaking from his pores, tainted their perception of him,” he quipped.

Despite Eris’ warnings, you were not prepared for them to warm up to you as much as they had. He brought out his most trusted hound, Clover, to meet you, and you’re not sure if it was the way Eris’ scent was forever entwined with your own, but she warmed to you immediately. She circled your legs before sitting directly next to you, placing her head beneath your hand.

“What does this mean?” you whisper to Eris, not wanting to scare her or set her off.

“She wants you to pet her.”

Your confused expression makes his eyes dance with amusement.

“Surely you understand that means to stroke her head.” He raises his hand in demonstration, petting the air with a bemused look on his face.

You huff, “she could bite me, I apologize for wanting to wait a moment before touching a creature you’ve told me is dangerous.”

“She is dangerous, but surely she’s capable of being more than one thing.”

Nowadays she was capable of such a feat - she was not only beloved by you, but she was also a constant thorn in your side.

It started with subtle things, conversations with Eris where you tried to express how odd they were behaving one night while you sat in Eris’ study, helping him sort through correspondence from his brothers about the lands they oversee.

“Clover followed me into the bathroom.”

“Perhaps I should put some cushions for her to lay down while you bathe. I’m fond of the sight, perhaps she is too.”

You roll your eyes, “I’m serious, Er. She’s behaving strangely.”

Eris set the letter from Moros down, his attention fixed on you. “You spoil her, she is merely being affectionate. You’ll get used to it.”

Eris was wrong, Clover’s behavior only getting worse as the days went on.

“Clover, stay.”

Clover’s brown eyes observed you, your finger pointing toward the floor indicating for her to stay, tone full of finality - a princess’s tone, a high lady’s tone. You were determined to get the hound to listen to you, commanding her to stay in your chambers.

You passed through the door, heading down to speak with one of your advisor’s who insisted he speak with you as soon as possible. You rolled your eyes just thinking about his current issue with one of the trade routes that flows into Spring and how last time he wanted to speak to you, you enjoyed watching the vein on his forehead throb at your reluctance to take his ill advice.

Perhaps during this meeting the vein will pop, at least then the meeting would come with entertainment.

You look down and are startled when you see Clover’s body in step with yours, her fur shimmering in the light as if she were smoke rising from the ground.

Cauldron boil me, Eris is going to kill me if I’ve ruined all of their training.

You stop, pointing in the opposite direction, whispering, “go, shoo Clover.” You don’t even want to consider how she got through the closed door.

Clover just sits in front of you, her gaze piercing, seeing something you can’t. You blow out a breath, hands running through your hair, “okay, you may come with me.”

You’d regret those words.

Clover strode into the room before you, sniffing the air as her nails clacked across the floor. Her focus shifted to the male in the room, Flint’s eyes narrowing at her. She moved her body closer to the floor as she stalked towards him, the hair along her spine raising into the shape of a fin. Her ears were pulled back, a low rumble emitting from her chest.

“Clover!”

Your voice is chastising, but Clover does not let her guard down as she slowly approaches Flint. His eyes are full of fear as she approaches, her feet circling him. He spins in a circle, not letting her eyes leave his.

“Clover!”

You whistle her stop command, but she ignores it. She circled Flint the way she circles mice and rabbits.

She always loved playing with her food.

“What is this? Control your hound.” Flint’s voice is annoyed as Clover raises her head, baring her teeth at him.

“I’m trying.”

You move forward, reaching to grab Clover’s neck, instead missing and falling forward towards Flint. His arms catch your forearms, but Clover was not a fan of his touch and her teeth swiftly sank into the leg of his trousers. Her grip was strong as she tugged at his pants, and he began stammering, shaking his leg trying to rid his pants of her. He backed away toward the door, and once he reached the threshold, Clover let go of her grip, almost causing the male to fall over.

Her growls echoed down the hall as she watched him run down the hall before scampering back towards you, confusion and shock on your face at all that just transpired.

The hound just licked your face gently before laying next to you, her head in your lap.

You sighed, certain that Eris would kill you for ruining Clover.

Later that night, Eris made hisbway to your shared chambers, a bit surprised to find you already asleep. The hour wasn’t too late, however he had caught you dozing while reading over some requests regarding equipment for some farms.

He stripped his clothes, the finery being replaced by some loose trousers before moving towards the bed to find that the hounds had placed themselves on either side of you, Cinnamon occupying his spot on the bed.

“Cinnamon, down.”

The brown hound does not listen to the command, the only response a long sigh of her breath. He stared at the hound - a seventy year old beast who was one of the easiest hounds he’d ever trained, knowing how he expected her to behave from an incredibly young age.

Cinnamon was no Clover, but she was second in their chain of command. Clover was on your other side, soft snores coming from her snout.

There was plenty of room in the bed for the two of you, the two hounds, and, truthfully, several more hounds. Your preference for larger beds from when you had your wings never left after you lost them.

Eris laid in the bed, determined he could outmaneuver his hounds. He moved a hand out to your face, stroking your hair before a soft growl cut him off.

His hand stilled, eyes wide at such a response from Cinnamon. His nostrils begin flaring, heat rising to the surface of his skin in anger. He could feel the roar of the bond in his ears, frustration boiling within him at the defiance and aggression at him touching his own mate.

He tried to swallow it down, refusing to erupt in his own bed while you slept peacefully next to him. His fuse was a short one, his temper always loosely held back by a quick tongue that allowed him to loosen the reins ever so slightly.

He watched them, their bodies curled around your own and thought about your complaints of them following you around, believing it to be a consequence of your softness towards them.

You were spoiling them rotten. You were a few weeks away from giving them table scraps, for Mother’s sake. But then his thoughts veered into Flint’s description of what occurred, Clover guarding you from Flint’s touch like a mother hen-

His heart stalls in his chest, a heavy realization settling over him as he sits up, Sierra growling softly at his abrupt movements.

You were pregnant. You had to be - it was the only logical conclusion other than all twelve of his hounds losing their minds simultaneously. They must be able to scent it on you before fae senses could pick them up.

He wonders briefly if Lucien’s magical eye could see it.

Eris lay frozen on the bed, his thoughts swirling with what to do, how he was going to handle this. He was still quite new to his tenure as high lord - the work wasn’t unexpected by any means, however his position was still quite vulnerable - new power always attracted violence attempting to see how far that power extended.

Things were still difficult in your personal lives - he and Lucien were on tenuous speaking terms, you and Rhysand were not on speaking terms. The two of you hadn’t spoken in almost a year.

It was all so damn complicated - you hadn’t had a coronation as high lady yet, wanting to wait until Rhysand would show up to have the ceremony. The logistics of a babe at such a crucial turning point politically could open Eris up to glaring vulnerabilities.

Long fingers tap at his chest, trying to keep himself somewhat grounded in reality. He had no confirmation for this - his reasoning behind such a theory were founded on the strange behavior of his hounds. He was being a ridiculous fool to get so worked up over unconfirmed theories.

Yet the image of a swaddled little thing kept gnawing at his mind - tiny toes, a tiny nose, tiny fingers wrapping around his. He had adored his brothers when they were much younger, when the world under Beron could be disguised as a good place. Perhaps he could do it.

Eris laid awake for several hours, your soft breathing calming him as he sat and thought about all the possible ways he could ruin all of this.

A tiny part of him let himself hope that, in spite of it all, he wouldn’t.

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peachesofteal · 8 months

Text

Simple Math / Part Seven

Simple Math masterlist

Ghost/Soap/female reader 4.8k words - AO3 Warnings-tags: 18+ MDNI. Brief suggestive content, sex dream. Mentions of domestic violence, stalking. Hospital setting, nurse!reader. Feelings of fear, anxiety. Mentions of stress and weight loss. Soft dads. Little bit of flirting. Simon is... Simon. You get caught in a spell.

Johnny knows this is a dream.

It’s an odd thing, to be conscious of it, to know you’re dreaming but still unable to control your actions. It’s like watching a movie of yourself, but also being yourself, directing your body without having a say in what it’s doing.

He knows this is a dream, because you’re in it. You’re in their home, in one of Simon’s oversized sweatshirts, boy shorts rucked up over the little lightning bolts that arc across your hips, the underside of your cheeks. You’re smiling at him too, like you belong in there, like it’s yours too, and his heart swells, growing to a preposterous size.

“There’s my bunny.” He pulls you into his chest, mouthing up your neck and over your jaw. Your skin tastes like sugar, and when he gets to your lips, his hands shift, sliding down your back to grab two fistfuls of your ass with a groan. “Missed ye.”

“We missed you too.” His fingers trace the edge of your panty line, barely dipping into where you drip for him. “Come to bed, Si’s waiting.” You whisper, stifling a moan.

“Johnny.” Simon calls him, too loudly. He wants to hiss, snap at him about not waking the baby. “Johnny!”

His eyes blink open. White ceiling stares back at him, and he turns his head, finding Simon with a bemused look on his face.

“I was havin’ a great dream.” Johnny grumbles, latching onto him. Simon scoots closer, lifting the back of his hand to his lips with a secretive smile, dotting kisses down to his wrist.

“I know.”

“- and he has access privileges, as long he’s not interfering with care, he’s allowed to be in the room whenever he deems fit. Obviously, in cases where he shouldn’t be, like burn debridement, he’s fine with stepping out, but you should expect him to sleep here.” The nurse nods, nervously peeking over your shoulder at Simon, who’s lurking in the hallway, staring through the glass at the transport techs getting Johnny settled in his room. You catch her eyes, motioning to redirect her attention, and she mumbles a meek apology. “They have a daughter, who Johnny has been mostly separated from since he got here, and he’s hoping to see her often, since she’ll be allowed to visit more freely now. I told him it wouldn’t be a problem.”

“Okay.” Her toes tap against linoleum, weight shifting from foot to foot, and you resist the urge to sprint back to her boss and demand someone else. Fuck. Why does Nora have to be on maternity leave?

“This is my favorite patient.” You warn her instead, dropping your voice low, pitching it brazenly serious. “I don’t ever want to see him back upstairs again, and that’s going to depend a lot on you.”

“Okay, okay.” Her work phone rings, and you jerk your head in dismissal, not quite finished, but not seeing a need to continue to harangue her, either.

Simon glances at you from down the hall, head turning once you’re alone. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t call to you, or say your name, but you’re helpless to the magnetic yank of his presence, a beam of gravity dragging you closer until you’re shoulder to shoulder, looking into Johnny’s room. He’s asleep, dark lashes feathered against his cheeks, blissed out and nearly snoring. “This will be great.” You say quietly. “He can see Penny almost as much as he wants down here. There are far less restrictions, and he’s doing so well, there’s nothing to worry about it.” He doesn’t say anything, just watches you with the x-ray vision that peels you open. Like he’s digging around in your head again.

“D’you have a minute?” You blink at him, graceful words dried out and missing.

“Uh, I… yeah, I’m technically off now so. Sure?”

“Have a tea with me? I’ll meet you outside the café, on the patio. Ten minutes alright?” Have a… have a tea with him?

His eyes are heavy. They’re lasered, locked onto yours, brows knitted together in something soft, some form of emotion that you don’t understand, framing his face above the mask. How can you say no?

“Okay, sure. Ten minutes.” You try to hide how your hands shake, tucking fingernail to palm, squeezing tight.

It doesn’t escape him.

You grow more afraid with each day, that nothing does.

The paper cup cradled in Simon’s outstretched grip is like every other paper cup you’ve seen before, drank from a thousand times, with steam wafting from its rim and aromatics spilling out into the air. “Sorry.” You blurt, reaching. His fingers brush against yours, warm contact momentarily stunning you. ‘Thanks.” You lift the tea to your nose, inhaling deeply.

Irish breakfast. With milk. Your favorite.

“How do you know what tea I drink?” You don’t mean for it to sound so suspicious, or aggressive, but it does. It’s nearly accusatory, but doesn’t affect him. He merely shrugs in response.

“I pay attention.” An engine turns over in the carpark, a small car sweeping across the lot as it turns out onto the street. You watch, feigning mild interest, trying to get a closer look at the driver without appearing too fixated. “So.” He sips, and then removes the lid, vapor rising from the top in a delicate little dance. “How long have you been at Addenbrooke’s?”

“A few years.” The answer is effortlessly supplied, like you’re under a spell. Your eyes go round. What are you doing? Crow’s feet crinkle at the corners of his own, and you manage a shaky smile.

“What brought you across the pond?” He jokes, velvet, soothing lilt in his voice.

“Work.” It’s easy to lie about this, the fabrication usually used in casual conversation almost every day with patients and new coworkers, people who are interested in you being from somewhere else, having a different accent, different education, customs, the whole lot. His jaw moves behind the mask, and before he can push the question further, you rush out your own interruption. “Simon, I want… I want to talk to you about something.”

“Sure.” He nods. “What’s on your mind?”

“It’s… the other night Johnny said something about,” Your face is nearly scalding, embarrassment laden lump stuck in the back of your throat. “about you and him, and… me, I guess…” you trail off, eyes darting down into the tea.

“Go on?”

“He said that you guys think I’m special, and you- you said-“

“That we’re here for you.” He finishes, nonchalant.

“Right.” You breathe a little easier, knowing he knows what you’re talking about, words picking up steam. “I want you to know that it’s totally normal to feel this way. It happens a lot, you know. Patients and, or their family members, loved ones, they get attached. This affection starts to happen towards a member of the care team because we become that person who… provides care, twenty-four seven. So, you and… and Johnny, feeling like you have this attachment towards me, it’s very normal. Not a big deal.” You finish in one big breath, cutting your ramble short. His cheeks swell behind the fabric, like he’s smiling, eyes squinting again.

“That’s not what this is.” That’s not… what this is? What does that mean?

“What?”

“Transference. That’s not what is happening here.”

“How do you…”

“I’ve had years of therapy.” He sighs. “Are you uncomfortable?” Say yes, the girl in your head screams. Tell him you need it all to stop. That you don’t like them, that it’s inappropriate. You know how this will end.

“No.” You don’t know why you don’t acquiesce to your own good sense, why you ignore the very clear boundaries and rules that have kept you alive this long.

“Bunny, I need you tell me, honestly, if you are uncomfortable.” He levels you with an intense look, seriousness bleeding from his irises to yours. You press your palms flat on the table, quelling their trembling.

“It’s not… it’s not you. Or Johnny.” You whisper, eyes slipping shut. It’s easier that way, to just close them, to hide. To pretend you’re somewhere else, to block everything out.

What the fuck are you doing right now? Your brain screams, but your heart wails.

What is it like, to be loved like that? To be known like that? To be held in someone's heart, cherished and protected?

“Sweetheart,” Simon’s voice is low, calming, and when you don’t answer, one of his hands folds over yours. “are you with me?”

“Yes.” You peek at him, and then fully let yourself look around, steadying the rancid fear that permeates through your body. “Sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologize.” He hums, hand still over yours. It’s warm, and broad, big thumb stroking a slow circle into your skin. “Is today your Friday?” You nod.

“It is, yeah. I’m… I’m looking forward to catching up on some sleep.” He straightens in the chair, shoulders and torso so unbelievably wide, like a long forgotten mythological god. Or the trunk of a massive tree.

“Will you have dinner with us, tonight?” The last of the orange red dawn spills over the crest of the buildings, and the world spins, cold sweat breaking out down your back.

“What?”

“Dinner, with us. I’m picking up takeaway for Johnny from his favorite place as a celebration, for graduating the ICU. We’d love to spend some time with you. Get to know you, if that’s alright.”

“Oh, I…” Say no, you have to say no, shut this down. It’s too much risk.

“No pressure. Just, hanging out, talking. As friends, if you like.” Butterflies thrash in your stomach so violently your knees bounce, and your heart leaps, pitching itself off a cliff like it wants to die.

“Okay.”

“Great. I can pick you u-“

“No! No, I’m fine. I have some errands to run after I get up for the day so, I’ll just meet you here.” It will be just like going to work. No harm, no foul. You can hang out with them, and go home, just like you’re at work. It doesn’t mean anything. It won’t.

You barely sleep. You pace, you nap, you thumb through endless craigslist listings in faraway cities for apartments, you read. You take the long way through the city back to your flat and slowly sift through pieces of your life that you want to keep. Your quilt from home, that’s been tucked away on a shelf. A sentimental trinket that belonged to your mom, also hidden in a drawer. These things that can be removed, without being noticed.

Not that it matters.

He hasn’t been here. Not since the sick shit he pulled with your underwear. It makes you curious when you inspect the undisturbed tape on the back side of the door, the light dusting of baking powder on the bedroom carpet, but not surprised.

It’s not unlike him, to make himself known and then suddenly disappear, the endless mind games partially intentional, and partially something not even he can control.

After all, duty calls.

He could still be in the city. He could still be watching. You don’t know anything for sure.

“Three things you cannot outrun in this world, babe. Death, taxes, and… me.” You mumble it to yourself, the same words that live in your head, in his voice, repeated, pulling a pair of scrubs from your dresser.

But you had been running, and still had your life to show for it.

It doesn’t matter, you know how this will end.

You’ve changed your clothes five times. You hem and haw in front of the mirror, trying not to look too closely at any one piece of yourself, switching shirt and pant combos until you finally settle on your usual, a pair of jeans and a long sleeve shirt. They’re high waisted, because low rise is not even within the realm of possibility for your hips, and you appreciate how they fit, even if they may sit a little loose right now, given your recent stress levels.

You look fine, you decide. You look professional. You don’t really look attractive, in any way, but the scars on your torso are hidden, and with a little bit of make-up, you think you look presentable. At the very least, you don’t look like you’re half asleep, which is exactly how you feel.

Not like it matters, you chide. This isn’t a thing; it’s just hanging out. You’re going to put an end to this entire charade, tonight.

The train is quiet, and you’re extra watchful. Every face, every movement is logged, every jacket or hat or hood is inspected. Posture, skin tone, height, of every person you pass or see is tabulated and run through your mind. Your brain, a supercomputer in its own right, does it all, seamlessly. It wants to protect you, it keeps you on guard, it can look at a crowd of twenty people all facing the opposite direction and locate a potential threat, just by the shape of the shoulders.

You don’t see him, you don’t feel him, your skin doesn’t prickle, and you let the lack thereof bring you peace, if only for a few moments.

Johnny’s floor is bustling. You wave hi to those you know, checking in with his nurse for a moment, letting her know you’ll be hanging out for a bit. She doesn’t even bat an eye, thankfully, and you try to settle yourself as you turn down the hall.

You’re not prepared for what you find when you knock on his door and slide it open, breath catching for a moment, and you scramble to cover your initial balk.

Their daughter is here. She’s cuddled up on Johnny’s good side, the one without the burnt tissue or recovering surgical wound. She’s asleep, wearing a black onesie covered in skulls, her head tipped back and mouth open, chubby cheeks and sweet little face perfectly content. She’s got her entire fist wrapped around one of Johnny’s fingers, holding it right under her chin like she’s afraid he might vanish while her eyes are closed. “Hey, bun.” Johnny whispers, smiling so wide, two fingers stroking through the wispy curls on top of her head. “We snuck in a visitor tonight.”

“I see.” Your heart trembles.

“Fell asleep right away, next to her Da. Been missin’ him these past few nights.” Simon chuckles, patting Johnny’s leg gently, affectionately. There’s a bag of take out on the table behind him, as well as what looks like an overnight bag, a purple duffel stuffed full. “Price is on his way to pick her up.” Penny gurgles, eyes blinking open in a sleepy daze like she knew they were talking about her.

“Ye’re alright, sh-shh, wee lamb.” Johnny coos. She’s half soothed by his words, but the lights in the room are far too bright, and her small noises waver into a cry, frustrated and tired. He tries move her, cradler her higher up his chest, but his face falls with pain, and Simon swoops in, pulling her into his arms. “Bunny, could ye-“

“Would you-“ They both try to ask at once, and you flounder once you realize the intention, a cranky, sleepy Penelope being pushed into your arms.

“I-“ she wails, interrupting you, bending you to her will without fuss, and you hold her closer, rocking side to side, humming above her ear. Just like the NICU, like a patient, like your stint in L&D, it’s fine, it’s-

“Sorry, sweetheart.” Not fine. It’s not fine. Heat burns in your belly. He can’t call you that, not when you’re holding their baby. “Thank you.” Simon says over his shoulder. He’s moving Johnny, lowering the bed slightly to help reposition him, and they speak quietly to one another, voices low enough you can’t make out any of the words.

“I can help you with him, if you want.” He waves you off.

“I need the practice, won’t have you around all the time anymore, yeah? And once he gets home…”

“Ach. ‘m not paralyzed. Jus’ uncomfortable.” Johnny glowers, pouting, and you roll your eyes, rhythm steady, gently bouncing, letting Penny cuddle into your chest, snuggling her face against your arm and side. She’s beautiful, precious and sweet, cooing herself back into a light slumber, and you smile despite yourself, still rocking after her eyes start to shut. “Knew she’d like ye.” He says softly, and you glance up, surprised by the intensity of their focus, heavy gazes fixed on you.

“She’s very sweet.” Your lips twist.

“She is.” Simon agrees. “We were happy to get her some time with her Da. Good for both of ‘em.” His fingers find Johnny’s cheek, and then their hands meet, a palm pressed to lips, a whispered a I love you.

An intimate moment, as you stand there with their baby in your arms.

“Alright, now that ye’ve done the hard work by gettin’ her back down,” Johnny gestures, urging you to step forward, and you carefully place her back in his arms. For a moment, your faces are level, and you get caught in his eyes, nerves strung so tight they could be a tightrope. “I’ve got her.” Weeks in the hospital, and he still smells like cedar and oranges, woodsy citrus that envelopes you, your lashes fluttering on the inhale. “She likes ye.” He murmurs, breath warm and tickling over your cheek.

“Well, she’s...” you straighten, hands smoothing down the front of your top. They’re moist, somehow, and you tuck them behind your back. “She’s a good judge of character, I guess.” Simon’s phone vibrates, Johnny’s plush smile turning dour, and he sighs.

“Okay baby girl. It’s time.” She cries a little, readjusting to Simon’s hold, and he slings the purple duffel over his shoulder, promising to be right back. Johnny nods, eyes downcast, and his face twists once the door shuts, cheeks turning red, staccato, hiccupped breaths coming fast.

“Hey.” You whisper. “Hey, Johnny.” The chair at his bedside creaks under you, and you lean forward, fingertips lightly caressing the tape residue that still sticks to his skin. You should clean that off.

“’m alright.” His shoulders roll, chin jutting out, brilliant blue gleam in his eyes returning, like storm clouds rolling off after rain. He’s silent for a beat, pinky finger folding over yours. “How was yer day?”

“Oh, it was… fine.”

“Simon said ye were goin’ to catch up on some sleep?”

“Yeah, I didn’t.” You laugh, and he smiles. “I feel okay though. Still awake at least.”

“I’m glad… ye came. I’m sorry if the other night, I was too… forward.”

“That’s okay. You’re just… so flirty, I don’t even know what to do with myself.” You tease, expecting to get a lighthearted quip in response, or a laugh, but he gives you neither, only a serious, sympathetic expression.

“I didnae mean to make ye uncomfortable. Felt terrible, when ye ran off, I-“

“I’m fine, Johnny. You… you didn’t. I mean, it was just… confusing, this is… this is a lot.” He nods.

“I know it is.”

“And you don’t even know me.” His brow creases, focus narrowed in so tightly on you, white walls, white hospital blanket, white everything falling away in a spiral of color.

“I know ye better than ye might think." He cracks a smile. "We want to, if ye’d let us.” No, you don’t. You almost say it. Almost promise him that knowing you would be the stuff of their nightmares, that they have no idea what they’re trying to bite into, or bite off, a near guarantee that it would be than they could chew.

“Well, no harm in making new friends, right?” You entreat weakly, and his eyes flash, ethos of an entire life that you have no knowledge of slipping through, and the dark severity rumbling in his gaze sends a shiver down your spine.

“Aye, bun. Especially when they look like ye in a pair of jeans.”

Dinner is an idyllic affair. Johnny’s favorite takeaway turns out, is Indian, like yours, and the three of you talk for hours, trading bites back and forth, laughing and listening to stories, discovering little bits and pieces about their lives while running interference on personal questions about yourself, allowing them to dip in skin deep, skimming off the top but never getting further. They tell you about themselves, Penelope, their jobs, how they met, and Johnny confides in you about his sketchbook collection, pages upon pages of charcoal and pencil line work, portraits of Simon and Pen covering each page, landscapes, and the occasional cartoon. Your spine eventually starts to wilt, muscles liquifying into goo that can barely hold you upright, and you curl up in the armchair, chin on your palm, listening to the ebb and flow of their voices as they tell you a particular story about how they came to find their current home, a near slapstick comedy about an interaction with the previous owner. Their voices soothe your restless mind, wrap you in a cozy embrace that feels so safe, so comfortable that you can’t fight the languid, siren call of sleep, eyes drooping into darkness, drifting away on their melodies, content and too tired to rationally put together what’s happening. At some point, something covers you up, knit warmth that is tucked in around your shoulders, your feet, a tender touch on your neck and cheek. A whisper of affection soothes the unease that lurks in the background of it all, and you fall into it lazily, farther into the hold of sleep, something your brain and body are desperate for.

When the lights go dim, you don’t even realize, already lost to the sand of slumber.

Around midnight, you wake with a start. Your heart is racing, triple timing in your chest, and you squint in the dark, trying to parse together where you are, what happened.

Oh no. Oh god, did you fall asleep on them? Did you fall asleep in Johnny’s room?

Simon calls your name. He’s settled in a recliner, head turned your direction, mellow light from the little lamp spilling across his features. “Are you alright?” Your mouth is dry, the web of sleep that holds you in suspension finally starting to wane, fuzzy clouds in your head trying to clear without much luck.

“How long was I out?”

“Four hours.”

“I’m so sorry.” He shakes his head.

“Wanted to let you sleep. I know you were tired, and Johnny was out almost immediately after you.”

“Th-thanks.” Your back groans, muscle and bone grinding together, stiff from sleeping in a cramped position for hours, and you’re surprisingly unsteady on your feet. Simon’s out of his chair in a second, turning around the end of Johnny’s bed to offer you a hand, his other lightly resting between your shoulder blades.

“Easy.”

“Sorry… just… think ‘m more tired than I realized.” It’s dark, and you’re disorientated, woozy, tongue stuck to the roof of your mouth, limbs and lids still heavy and desperate to fall back asleep.

“I’ll drive you home.” His keys jingle, and you know you should reject him, refute this presumption, push him off, but you can’t string the right words together in your mind, can’t bring yourself to truculently pull away.

So, you don’t. And to your surprise, your shock, it feels… nice. You let him open the door for you, get you settled, you listen to his music on the way, city flying past outside the window, quiet hour of the night crawling by. You let him help you out of the car when you pull up to the curb, and when he asks if he can walk you up, your rational pugnacity is nowhere to be found.

“This is me.” You gesture to the door, fumbling in your wallet for your keycard.

“How long have you been in the hotel?”

“Oh, not long. Reno just started so…” His head turns, surveilling the hallway. You’re in an end room, far from the elevator but close to the stairs, as requested, and there’s a camera that sits on the ceiling, green dot consistently blinking. He glances at it, then back to you, head tilted.

“Are you safe here?” The world goes cold. Your stomach roils, blood draining from your face, and you try to hold yourself steady, mind turning over a million times. You’re overreacting. He’s just asking in a general sense. He doesn’t know. He couldn’t. Breathe. Deep breath.

“I uh, yeah. It’s got a deadbolt.” Along with a door stop alarm, and a security bar. He steps closer, so close that you can smell him, fresh laundry and musk, something spicy lingering there, something dark and enchanting.

“Are you in trouble, little bunny?” You’re in his shadow, beneath the stretch of a mountain, shielded by it, by a monolith so large it could blot out the sun. It overwhelms you, slows the racing pace of your mind, and you try to sort through the merry go round of feelings that are all trying to push their way out of your mouth.

You’ve never felt this. Never felt this… desire, to entrust someone with your life. Never felt this… attraction, this hold that the two of them have on you.

It makes you want to trust them. Makes you want to lay it all out and beg them to help you. Makes you want to close your eyes and leap, praying they’ll catch you.

It’s wicked. It’s dangerous. It’s a fool’s errand.

It’s unfair.

“No.” You whisper. You can’t look at him, and time slows in the silence, your anxiety piquing. Of course, he would assume something is wrong, after witnessing the panic attack. Don’t read too far into it.

“But you wouldn’t tell me if you were, would you?” He’s pragmatic, yet still kind, watching you with intent. It doesn’t allay any of the stress that’s building up the back of your throat and closing it, cutting you off from the oxygen you desperately need.

After an eon, he sighs.

“Okay, sweetheart. You can keep your secrets. For now.” You choke.

“I… I should probably-“ you jerk your head towards the door, half turning away to swipe your keycard.

“Alright.” He moves carefully, dipping low, and you stand immobilized, confused and quivering as his cloth covered mouth presses a slow kiss to the top of your head. It’s like he’s bewitched you, cursed you, and you can’t do anything but stand there, stunned. “Thanks for coming tonight.” You’re a deer in headlights, a rabbit in a scope.

“Simon.” His name is the only thing you know right now, and it comes out reedy, almost a squeak.

“Get some rest. We’ll text you tomorrow.” He pushes the door wide, arm snaked behind your shoulders, and when you don’t move, he urges you forward, an encouraging hand on the small of your back. Your feet blindly stumble through the motions, searching for the light switch, for your sanity. “Goodnight, bun.” He hums, and the door clicks shut, leaving you alone, staring at the beige-yellow paint on the wall.

The afternoon trains are packed. It makes your skin crawl, not because you dislike busy or hectic places, but because there are too many eyes. You force your head to stay up, casually scrolling past the faces that are turned every which way, keeping your back to a corner or window as often as possible. You’re not sure you even needed to take this route, the one where you loop around and change trains twice, but… old habits die hard.

You’re lighter today, mentally. It’s in your steps on the stairs, the way you tilt your face up to the sun, how you bounce and bob a little along to the rhythm in your headphones.

You try not to read into it, too much. You tell yourself it has nothing to do with the good morning text messages from Johnny and Simon, or the hilarious back and forth between them after Simon sent a god-awful joke to the group chat. It has nothing to do with the heat that spreads through your fingers to toes when you think about Simon last night, kissing your forehead.

You slip inside your apartment, popping your headphones free, glancing at the tape and the door jam, before setting your bag on the counter. You idly sort through some mail you left out the other day. Junk, junk, junk, nothing taxing or important, nothing work related or-

A shadow moves. It flickers against the wall by your bedroom, growing larger, stalking closer to the kitchen, to where you stand, frozen, heart pounding in your ears.

This can’t be real. This can’t be happening.

“Hey there, sugar.” He croons, the thick, Texas accent unmistakable, and you breathe his name in horror.

“Phillip.”

#peaches writes #simple math #ghoap x reader #ghost x soap x reader #soap x reader x ghost #simon riley #john soap mactavish #simon riley x reader #soap x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #ghost x reader x soap #ghost x reader

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rustyr3dhe4d · 6 months

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unexpected (2) - cl16

summary: a few years ago, you found yourself unexpectedly pregnant with your boyfriends baby. upon telling him, he completely disappeared and you hadn't heard from his since. of course you told your best friend, charles. he vowed to help you before and after the birth. fast forward a couple of years, what happens when your child assumes charles is her father.

!part 1 here!

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you sat in charles' driver room, waiting for him to come back from media duties. he'd made it on podium, taking third place and you couldn't be happier. you stroked your daughter's hair as she slept peacefully next to where you were sitting.

soon, charles appears through the door. "hey, you did so good today." you told him as you brought him into a tight hug. "thank you, amour." his arms wrapped around your waist, head tucked tightly between your head and shoulder.

you rubbed his back comfortingly, knowing how tired he was. once he pulled away, he took in adelines sleeping figure. he squats down and places a light kiss on her head.

in the silence you both sat down on the small table in his room. you know the elephant in the room was going to be talked about sooner or later.

"do you want to talk about, you know... what adeline called you earlier?" your fingers began fidgeting nervously as you brought up the topic. he looked down at his feet. "it's okay, i know she's young and she doesn't know about everything."

"i'm sorry if it made you uncomfortable." you place your hand on his, which he takes it and intertwines your fingers.

ever since you found out you were pregnant up to the birth of your daughter, charles was next to your side every single step. he was there with you at every appointment, every breakdown, and every kick she gave you. he was even there holding your hand as you brought adeline into the world.

even though she's not biologically his, he's been a father figure to her. "no, it didn't make me uncomfortable." he looks to her. "in a way, it made me feel good."

you turn to him with furrowed brows. "she doesn't understand the full extent of what happened with her real dad yet, but i'm glad she sees me in that way."

you can't help but feel your heart swoon. there was always a little thought in the back of your mind that you wished charles was adelines father. but you brushed it off every time it came to light. "i understand," you swallow. "part of me wishes sometimes... that you were actually adelines father."

his words cause him to look at you quickly. "really?"

"it's just, when i told my ex i was pregnant and he left, i never felt so alone. but you stepped up and have been more of a father to her than he could've ever been." you can't help but get choked up on your words.

he lets go of your hand and pulls you close, placing a kiss on your head. "i will always be there for you two. no matter what." he whispers to you.

you pull back and look at him, tears still in your eyes. his hands cup your face as he places a sweet kiss to your lips. you weren't expecting it but it feels right. "she's obsessed with you, you know?" you chuckle through your tears.

he can't help but laugh slightly with you. "had a feeling." he moves his hands from your face to hold your hands in your lap. "if it's okay, i would be more than honored to take the role of addy's father. i want to be there, for her and you."

you read his eyes and they hold pure truth behind them. you can't help but smile big and nod. "that's more than okay." you tell him as you place another kiss on his lips.

you hear shuffling coming from your daughter as she wakes up. "hi, my love." you tell her as she climbs into your lap. you can tell she's still sleepy and ready to go. "are you ready to go, papillon?" charles asks her sweetly.

she rubs her eyes tiredly and nods. as soon as he stands, she's reaching for him. you smile and roll your eyes as he scoops her up and carries her. you collect both your stuff and charles stuff and head out of the paddock.

you get to the car and charles goes in the back, to strap her to her car seat. "alright get some more sleep, i love you papillon." he tells her, placing a kiss on her forehead like he did earlier.

"love you daddy..." she mumbles before nodding off to sleep again. you smile at charles, who's dimples are now on display from the smile he gives you.

"looks like she's already used to you." he grabs your hand and opens your door, helping you get in. "let's go home shall we?" he suggests.

you simply nod, as he closes your door once you're settled in the passenger seat. he gets in the driver's seat, starts the car and drives off.

you sigh in content, looking back at your daughter asleep in her car seat and the man you now have the utmost love and adoration for.

you're new little family.

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#charles leclerc #formula 1 #formula one fanfiction #f1 fic #f1 imagine #fanfic #charles lechair #lewis hamilton #daniel ricciardo #logan sargeant #charles leclerc x reader #formula one #f1 fandom #f1 2024

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knightyoomyoui · 4 months

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[SMUT] TWICE x Male Reader - "One Of The Girls"

The final one-shot of my TWICE smut anthology book is here. I think this might disappoint for some readers here because yall might be expecting it to be long, but I made it as simpler and unique as I can be because I don’t think I’ll be able to write a Part 2 of this anymore due to my lack of interest of writing smuts. Thank you once again for atleast giving a try on reading my smut one-shots even though I’m not really expert at writing mature stuffs. Still, I hope this might come into your liking. WARNING: contains smut, R+18, mature and sexual content TAGS: fuckfest, friends with benefits, eighteensome (with a bit of threesome and foursome), harem, pairing, messy sex, anal, rough sex, blowjob, lots of sex positions, futuristic, clones, advanced technology etc. WORD COUNT: 5,500

You are currently hosting your own celebratory party with your only circle of friends in college. There’s a total of 10 people present around your house, which is the preferred location that was voted for by the majority since yours is the most spacious among them. Around your living room are Nayeon, Jeongyeon, Momo, Sana, Jihyo, Mina, Dahyun, Chaeyoung, and Tzuyu, and you as the only guy in your squad.

Table occupied with bunches of snacks and empty cans of beer, some of the girls are nearing passing out from their drunken state, except the others, like Nayeon, Jeongyeon, and Jihyo, who have a high alcohol tolerance, went on to continue chatting with you since they wanted to cherish this moment being complete together.

It’s been months since you’ve last seen them after getting graduated from college. Each went on to grab the degree of the profession they have chosen, and that brought them to achieve their dream job that effectively supports them even more in their personal life.

You were the one who initiated to invite all of them when few days ago, you unexpectedly encountered Jihyo in the grocery store and sulked about when will be there a time where all 10 of you will go hangout together again just like good old times. Since Jihyo is the one that all of you have been calling the “mother” of the group, you took note of her suggestion.

As you went home, chat app open, revisit your group chat with them, and send the invitation, which led you all in this predicament.

“Oh you’ve got to be kidding me.” Jihyo said as she looked at your window, waterdrops scattering as it disperses down through its surface.

“We should’ve went home already after they passed out.” Jeongyeon said as she emptied her can of beer and peek at Momo and Chaeyoung sleeping both on her sides.

“Yeah, we got caught now by the rain outside. Nice.” Nayeon slumped her back on the couch. “Ahhh I hate it when I go home wet.”

“Should we wake everyone up?” Jeongyeon asked.

Jihyo shook her head. “Maybe not yet, I don’t want to disturb their sleep just to get haggard going outside.” She said while stroking the wavy hair of sleeping Mina on her right.

“I think it’s much better if you guys should stay here.” You suggested. “You guys still have work, I don’t want to risk you all getting sick and take an absence.”

“Are you sure about it, YN?” Jeongyeon asked, lifting her brows in surprise. “Are we not gonna be a hindrance here around your house, I mean… we did put a mess already here but-”

“Nah, I’m positive. And I knew where you’re going at your words, Jeong. I’ll help you clean the place up tomorrow.” You smiled at her.

“Nice. Thanks for this, YN!” Jeongyeon high fives with you.

“Well that’s even better. I’m starting to like your place too anyway.” Jihyo joked as she looked around the interior of the house. “I mean, what do expect from our architect, am I right.” She smirked as you chuckled at her teasing.

“Aww, as expected, such a caring and thoughtful deed from our daddy~” Nayeon quickly cuddled your arm, much to your shock. You froze at your place, and Jeongyeon and Jihyo stopped laughing as their smile fades away with their eyes slowly stared towards the already drunk bunny that they thought was still with them.

“Uhm…”

“Did we heard it right?”

“N-Nayeon, what did you just call YN here?”

“My daddy YN~” Nayeon said as she rubs her face in your biceps. “He’s the only man in our group and he takes care of us, does that make her our daddy?” She raised her head and smiled at you with her and shiny teeth.

“How did you… just end up randomly calling him like that?” Jeongyeon stiffles her laugh while perturbedly questioning Nayeon’s weird behavior.

“I mean, she has a point though, you are the patriarch, the one who formed our group anyway. You found us, YN.” Jihyo shrugged her shoulders. “But cmon, unnie. There’s no need to call him like that.”

“I don’t care. I love to call him that always, besides…” Nayeon’s stare went strangely different, eyeing you with an unspeakable aura clouding through her pupils. Her hand planted on your chest and rubbed it gently, smelling your scent from your shirt. “Daddy’s has been looking such a very hottie these days compared back then, that’s why he’s just simply deserves to be called with it. Besides, you love to hear that too from one of your girls, right~?”

“N-Nayeon…”

Her movements are like a choke hold on you, making it difficult for you to talk normally. You are stammering when you speak. Gazing at Jeongyeon and Jihyo, you saw that they were merely observing Nayeon as she moved her hands around you. Their gaze shifted to you, and all of a sudden, even theirs felt a little awkward.

To your astonishment, Nayeon gently caressed your face and turned it toward her, planting a soft kiss on your lips. When you felt Nayeon's lips start to move more around your mouth and extend an invitation for a passionate duel, your eyes opened and your body gradually melted.

Hearing some gulps from nearby, it was coming from Jeongyeon and Jihyo drinking more beer that was left from the table. Their breaths became heavy as they continued to observe Nayeon doing these things to you.

You never crossed your mind that Nayeon would do this to you someday, just like right now, but it is undoubtedly true that she is deadly gorgeous, and to share this kind of intimacy with someone like her, consider yourself to be the luckiest guy in the world.

Speaking of being lucky, it looks like you’re about to experience another once-in-a lifetime moment and something that will forever change your relationship with the girls when you hear Jeongyeon moan as Jihyo starts to grope her breast.

Your hand rest on Nayeon’s hand and continued to mash your lips against her, syncing her movements along to make your kiss even more sultry. As you remove first from her face, you stared at her and looked at Jeongyeon who is now also massaging her other breast to join Jihyo playing on her body.

“Are you girls sure wanna do this?”

“I’d like to give it a try. We haven’t done this before, and it pretty much looks very interesting, especially looking at our r Jeongie here enjoying my touch here like never before.” Jihyo smirks.

“How about you, Jeong?”

“Quit asking, let’s stay here for the night and have more fun.” Jeongyeon said, huffing one more time before she tilts her head and captures Jihyo’s face for a kiss of her own too.

“I knew they will follow us.” Nayeon said as she satisfyingly watched her friends going out at each other. “I pretty much knew how their hormones can get intense, and now that you are our only man around here, will you like to accompany us to it?”

“Oh whenever you want, Nayeon.”

You pulled the hem of Nayeon’s shirt upward, revealing her baby blue silk bra that perfectly hugs her average-sized boobs. You gnawed at the crook of her neck; she gasped at how ticklish and warm your breath hit her sensitive spot. While doing so, your hand squeezed along the soft skin of her arms, feeling its smoothness.

Locating the lock on her bra from her back, you unhooked it and removed the garment from her. Setting yourself apart from Nayeon, you have found the first glimpse of Nayeon’s bare top, her breasts proudly presented to you and ready to be devoured.

You placed your palms on top of her tits, squishing them as Nayeon invited you again for another kiss. Jeongyeon and Jihyo are still colliding in each other's bodies. As you checked on them, you have found that Jeongyeon is now stripping off Jihyo’s skirt as she also gets rid of her shirt, exposing her black bra that traces the width of her wide, flawless back.

Lifting Nayeon off the couch and leaving Dahyun and Tzuyu on your spot, you gently placed Nayeon on your carpet. Now being on top of her, you undid her jeans and saw her matching pants tucked securely on her rosy petals. Running your hands through her legs, you found her waistband, taking them off and giving her pants a lustful inhale before looking at the now fully naked Nayeon laying for you.

You kissed her again, with one hand caressing her cheek and another returning to nuzzle with her left breast. You heard a loud whimper coming from Jihyo, who is now being eaten by Jeongyeon as her head is between her legs, sitting on the carpet in front of her.

With your clothes and jogging pants now gone too, all 3 women went on to watch you loosen your boxers, and there they had to see your erected cock for the first time, increasing their sexual desires that had them craving the taste of your meat.

Jihyo’s moans went constantly seductive the more she stares at your cock while her pussy is getting pleasured by Jeongyeon who is now fingering her own pussy also. Nayeon who is even more aroused, gripped your cock to give it a pump, eliciting a gasp on your mouth.

“My god, YN. After all these years, I couldn’t believe we were almost impossible to release this beast begging to be let out and gain some attention. We could’ve helped you with it after all these years.” Nayeon said as she watched her huge hands exquisitely covering the length of your cock.

“You girls never asked though. Well now, you girls can have it anytime you want. Atleast unlike before, every single one of you has a chance to take this all for yourselves.” You said confidently.

“And I will enjoy every single bit of it.” Nayeon bit her lip before she gave you a trusting nod, signaling you to enter her virgin cavern. She flinched and rolled her eyes back as she felt every inch of you entering her pussycat.

Now buried deep inside of her, you subtly fucked Nayeon into a missionary position. Your arms rested on each side of Nayeon’s head to give you stability. She was holding onto it at first until she decided to support you in continuing to fuck her harder by roving her hands around your toned torso and back and licking your nipples.

Meanwhile, Jihyo has just finished squirting on Jeongyeon’s face, licking off the juices that she caught before scooping some and letting Jihyo have a taste of it, sucking Jeongyeon’s fingers lewdly. After that, they changed positions, wherein Jihyo is now paying attention to Jeongyeon’s fat pussy while groping her heaving tits.

Back to your state, your pace went faster, creating loud claps of your crotch and her ass contacting with each pound. Nayeon’s moan and frantic noises go fast as she watches you pour your efforts into dominating her.

"Ughhh, yesss, keep it like that, Daddy. Fuck me, fuck your one and only bunnyhop with your gigantic carrot.”

Your groans intensified until you felt a sudden surge of tightness in your stomach. Unleashing the last remaining forces you need to snatch that climax, you finally pushed into her very deep, and Nayeon felt some gooey substance flowing inside her walls.

As you remove yourself from her, you observe Nayeon breathing erratically with her pussy overflowing with your cum. You wiped the cream off your cock through her thigh before moving on to Jihyo and Jeongyeon who are still having their own fun together.

But just as you were about to reach them, you were prevented by a grip from someone on your back, holding your wrist, stopping you in your tracks that made you to only watch Jeongyeon squirt into Jihyo. You rotated your body and found Tzuyu looking up at you mischievously.

Additionally, you discovered Dahyun slowly opening her eyes as Chaeyoung, Momo, Sana, and Mina all find themselves staring at your cock with fascination as they watch the embarrassed pair perform an amorous act.

“Do you guys really think we would let ourselves be left alone?” Sana said as her action encouraged the rest of the girls to strip off their clothes, presenting their bodies only in their ravishing set of bra and panties with different colors, tempting you to get hornier at the sight of their sexy bodies all prepared to be claimed by yours.

They formed a devious smirk and lick from their lips as they saw your hardened cock twitch. “Aww looks like our YN here is liking what he’s seeing right now.” Momo said as she knelt beside you and stared at your thick shaft all fired up to invade their pussies one by one…

… but you have thought of an idea to make things faster, easier…and unique.

“Wait, girls. Alright, I know all of you want to join but… I can’t do this for now with just only me taking you all each turn.” You said to them.

“So… lemme grab something from my room real quick and come back here to show it.” You ran away from them and dug through your items until you have found what you are looking for.

Returning to the living room, you even adore the view more as you noticed that all of them are now naked, presenting you the contrast of their sizes and shape of their wonders but that doesn’t matter to you. You knew that all of them has one similarity and that is they all look breathtaking and fuckable tonight.

“What’s that, YN?” Chaeyoung asked as she looks at your hand holding a circular device.

“It’s a cloning device made by my brother who is an expert in robotics. He gave me this as a gift because I once shared to him that I feel bad sometimes that Alpha, my pet dog… I always left him here in the house alone.” You said as you looked around at its design, juggling it in your hands.

“So he gave me this as a solution. Well basically as like what I’ve said… it’s a cloning device, which means I can create an artificial clone version of myself. He instructed me to use it as my replacement whenever I left the house for work, so that Alpha can still have me… but the other and fake “me” to still be his guardian. I can even use it to do some other errands while I’m away.”

They all are impressed at its purpose and quality. “Can I ask, YN? Is the clone you produce can touch something? I’m thinking that it may just be a hologram, so what if you have to feed your dog or bathe him while you’re out?”

“Oh, don’t worry. My clones can have a contact with anything around here. I’m not that much of an expert that’s why I can’t explain why but my brother probably inputted some system in this advance technology that doesn’t only shape my clones into a complete holographic-illusion type of figure.”

“A question also, uhm… does it only have a limited time to use?” asked Mina.

“Yup, it can only be set for a day if I’m only using it for one clone… but for multiple…”

“Wait, so you can also switch it to any number of clones of your choosing?”

“Yeah, but it’s only up to ten. So probably I can use it for like an hour and half or something since like I said, the more I activate a clone, the shorter the time I can only use it.” You said, until your lips form a sly smirk as you gave them a glance. “Which is why I want to use this for tonight…”

They all looked at each other until Jeongyeon understood what you are talking about, her cheeks blushed and eyes largened at the idea you have in your mind. “Oh this night just got even more chaotic.”

“... and make eight clones of myself so that instead of having you girls by turn, I can have all of you AT THE SAME TIME. Sounds good?”

“Actually, that is brilliant. Atleast, we don’t have to wait for YN and… we can have him as our partner by pair.” Tzuyu applauded your idea.

“Wait, is it gonna work like… this is the first time you’re gonna use it on having sex, do you think it’s gonna function the same thing as what a real human like you can do?” Dahyun asked. “Like… can it even cum as you?”

“There’s only one way to find out.” You shrugged. Pressing the button of the device, you laid it on the floor and stood straight in front of it. The device scanned you from head to toe and set the number of clones to 8. It beeped repeatedly until to all of your amazement, you witnessed the device spawn a naked clone of you one by one until it reaches the necessary number.

The clones all look at you as if they are asking for your command. You felt something strange in your head, as if there’s a bunch of signals awaiting for your memory core to generate a thought that will be transported into the other end.

“Let’s continue where we left off.” You tried to use the ability you have just unveiled. You looked at your clones and then at the girls except Jeongyeon, and developed a thought in your head that commands them to have sex with the girls of their choosing.

All of your clones went on to approach the girls they have chosen. Since you don’t have any names to call them, you labeled them rather as your clone number based from the age order of the girls in which they partnered theirselves together.

“Hi Jeong, looks like its you and I now.” You said to Jeongyeon who was left standing alone as the girls are now intimately engaging with your clones.

“Oh, so that’s why I was wondering why I didn’t get picked.” She scratched the back of her head, feeling embarassed at her dumbness. “Well, I like it much better that I get to have the real package right here.”

She reached for your limp cock and gave it a few introductory pumps with her reversed hand. You kissed her while squeezing her ass from behind. Teasing her asshole, you inserted your index finger in it and fucked her slowly.

Her gasp enabled you to invade her mouth and swirl your tongue around inside. After licking her taste buds, you let Jeongyeon kneel before you and worship your cock in her own initiation.

As you looked around you, you were astounded that the girls also copied Jeongyeon; they knelt under your clones and checked if they could have contact with their artificial cock. Momo woah-ed aloud as she, along with the girls, confirmed that they can even touch their dicks too.

Jeongyeon chuckled and shook her head as she saw her friends enjoying your clones’ cocks for themselves. She slapped your abs to lure your attention back to her, and there she eyed you lustfully as she wiggled your now reawakened cock on her fist, slapping it on her cheeks before licking the underside of your shaft.

She ran her tongue through your length and traced the veins of your cock before slurping your mushroom head. She lifted your cock away to gain access at your hanging balls, not wanting them to be left out. She coated them with her saliva as she massaged the other one with care.

Back at your cock, she then proceeded to suck and gave you another blowjob of greatness that you will ever be thankful for your life. You patted Jeongyeon’s head as she dugs her face deep until she reaches your abdomen, giving you a deepthroat that is even par from her limit, but she still did her best to make you feel good as possible. “So big and thick… hope you don’t mind that I will always beg for this from now on, YN”, she said as she jerked it while grinning devilishly at you. “Good, because I don’t even know if I’ll get enough of your body too, Jeong.” You said as you grab a bundle of her hair and use it as your handle while she blows you hard once more. “Yes, continue to move that little mouth of yours. Show me how much you love my cock.”

The girls were now giving your clones their own style and direction of blowjob in which also lets out the satisfied feeling from them. Getting more aroused at the work Jeongyeon has been doing at your meat, you humped your hips and facefucked Jeongyeon until you blew your load, filling her mouth with your warm cum before you slip away.

Jeongyeon swallowed it all like a good girl and wiped off the remnants around her lips. After she presented her empty and clean tongue without any signs of your seed, you also found out that the girls each had the surprise on their face when they also felt some cum poured through their mouth and staining their face.

“Wait, so they can also feel what you feel?” Jeongyeon commented the same thing as you have discovered.

“Same as what I’m thinking.”

“Heh, you’re the best, YN.” Jeongyeon shook her head and kissed you on the cheek before she pulled your arm to set yourselves up for a sex position. You also mentally commanded your clones to fuck the girls in any position they want.

She went close to Jihyo who is now being fucked by your clone in a sitting faceoff at the side of the couch. Jeongyeon spreaded her leg for you and invited you to come closer, standing between her and stick your cock at her pussy, which was very tight that sent chills in your skin. You savored banging Jeongyeon very deep that had her moaning uncontrollably at your massive length poking her womb.

Being too noisy, Jihyo teased her bestfriend by voluntarily stretching her body aside so that she can pull Jeongyeon’s head and forcefully have her suck her right tits with your clone who is playing on her left one. Jeongyeon continued to hum around Jihyo’s nipple as you went back and forth faster through her pussy.

You peppered kisses through Jeongyeon’s thick thighs and some sneaky squeezes on her butt until you felt your climax about to greet you again. Rapidly drilling her walls, you sent Jeongyeon into her world of ecstasy by filling her insides with your cum which led also to your clone to fire stream of its own load to Jihyo including the rest of the girls.

While you were busy with indulging Jeongyeon, Momo was being fucked by your second clone in a cowgirl, taking one of your couches all by themselves.

Sana and your third cousin are doing 69 beside the table. Her face has been painted white after she pointed the tip into her to empty the remaining area for some facials. Your clone also received the same treatment; his face got flooded with Sana’s love juices.

Mina is being ravaged by your fifth clone in a doggy-style way at the kitchen counter, her ass being roughly pounded with a thick cock while her pussycat is being sucked by Nayeon, who is being taken by her own clone of yours on the floor.

Dahyun is on the edge of the couch, getting piledrivered by your sixth clone as her body is positioned upside down, her feet being used as a handle while the back of your clone leans at the end of the couch for additional support.

Chaeyoung is on the front of the TV with her clone of yours, watching her reflection on the screen as she gets manhandled from behind, her body submitting from the full nelson demolition that is being applied on her own session of sensation.

Tzuyu is doing the same thing as Chaeyoung, but it's not her reflection she’s watching. She’s viewing the rainy atmosphere outside the streets of Seoul just to distract herself from getting penetrated by your clone in a one-legged standing. Her body is paralled with his body, and she kisses him to let your clone know that he’s doing a good job, filling her up to the brim.

As they all received your warm present oozing underneath between their legs, they decided with you to go on for one last round before wrapping up this party that became a sex-filled, erotic occasion.

You went on to find Jihyo, who has now abandoned by your clone on the couch, after you mentally commanded him to go after Jeongyeon next. Jihyo looked up at you and gave you a soft smile, to which you also returned the gesture.

To ride off her exhaustion, you sat beside her and took her tits all by yourself. You were definitely pretending to yourself if you were denying that Jihyo’s enormous mommy milkers aren’t distracting you whenever they look very evident and alluring at her clothes that felt too tight or revealing.

It’s not because you are simply a pervert; being quite an introvert, you just don’t know exactly what to do to completely avoid it.

Now that you have her nice pair of bosoms resting neatly below her chest, it would be disrespectful of you to just continue ignoring such a pretty and sexy lady like her, especially if you are now free to have her for your own satisfaction as much as she has for you.

Without any further ado, you feasted a lot with her tits, kneading each of their softness and weighing them on your palm before you dipped your salivating mouth into her caramelized nipples and areolas.

Jihyo is just there, whimpering and sighing heavily at your mouth, marking her precious assets. She combs your hair like a good baby boy sucking off her mommy’s milk.

As you removed your face from her breasts, you stood in front of her and went on with another idea you had in store for her.

Presenting your engorged cock once again, you used her breasts to place it between them and sandwich it around your shaft before allowing you to titfuck Jihyo.

Jihyo lowered her head and spit on your cock as she attempted to catch your head with her tongue, giving it a few licks while you went forward. You didn’t go on for too long on going after her breasts because it's not only that who has to be recognized on. Her entire body should be praised for a goddess like her.

Now contented with the feeling of your cock passing through the deep valley of her cleavage, you pulled Jihyo with you and replaced her on the couch. You instructed her to climb on your lap, in which she sat down, gripping your cock and tucking it to her pussy.

“Ahh! Fuck me, augh yes just like what I imagined when I first had a look at your cock.” Jihyo said as she slightly twerked her plump ass.

You catched her waist and suddenly slammed her down as you made her furiously bouncing on your lap. “Shit, fuck you like that huh? You like getting hammered by my big cock don’t you, Jihyo?”

“Yes yes! YN go faster please!”

“Scream for me! Let everyone in this room know that no one can match my cock for your tight pussy!” You slapped Jihyo in the face and spanked her ass as you roared at her.

“G-GIRLS! O-OH GOD… OH MY GOD UGH YESSSSS!! FUCK, H-HE’S THE BEST AT THIS… I WON’T FIND ANYONE THAN YOU, YN! I JUST WANT YOUR COCK, NOT EVERYONE ELSES” You pushed her closer to you and mashed your face at her tits as you rammed her like a madman.

You are fucking Jihyo so intensely that your groans of pleasure isn’t enough yet to let Jihyo know that she and the rest of the girls will get to experience whatever limits of sex they can reach just so they can feel like they’re locked up in heaven.

Sliding her ass out more, Jihyo became confused on why did you paused after the horrific speed you just gave on her. Her answer came shortly as she felt another cock getting inserted in her another hole.

Jihyo screamed in both pain and pleasure as she is now getting double penetrated by you and your clone. While you continued to suck her bouncing tits, Jihyo looks around to check what the other girls are also receiving at the moment.

On her front view, there’s Nayeon and her clone having tabletop sex at the kitchen counter. Sana is giggling and and moaning at the same time with her shaky voice as she is bouncing up and down beneath your clone’s cock at the stairs in a reverse cowgirl. Mina is having her pussy being eaten by Dahyun whose front frame and breasts are pressed on the floor while her ass is being fucked in a flatiron position.

On her back there goes the scene where Jeongyeon is bent in half like a seashell by your clone while having her tits sucked, Momo getting some spooning treatment, her tits swaying at every thrusts she receives, Chaeyoung moaning for mercy as she gets hogged by your clone in an upstanding citizen, carrying her small frame while having her limbs floating in the air due to getting hooked around in her legs.

Lastly, Tzuyu continues to admire the night view of Seoul through the windows while his clone is pistoning her pussy in a stand and deliver.

“I- I can’t take it anymore, I- I’m going to let it out, YN!”

“I’m getting close too, Jihyo…”

“Perfect fucking timing. Let’s end together.” Jihyo said as is staring dangerously at you before she reached your face for one more kiss.

You and your clone plowed Jihyo to the brink of fulfillment as a few more strokes and rough collisions of your skin slapping together took yourselves into orgasm. Jihyo shouts lewdly as she feels streams of her slimy nectar squirt around your cock while it pulsates the last set of your pearly cum straight through her cunt.

The room resonated with synchronized screams, moans, and curses as everybody embraced their climax. You quickly grabbed your device and switched it off, making your clones disappear in an instant.

You sat beside Jihyo, who is now knocked off after having her energy spent just like the rest of the girls with you. The room smells like sex, with cum overflowing from their gaping holes and puddles of crystal liquid all over the floor. Bodies slumped and scattered everywhere around the house.

But then in some of their surprise, they noticed that the cum that came out from your clones disappeared next, making their snatch feel a bit lighter now than earlier, except for the trio Nayeon, Jeongyeon, and Jihyo.

“I guess those are also artificial and temporary just like them.” Jeongyeon said as she looked at the evidences that gone missing.

“But not for us.” Nayeon smiled proudly and scooped some of your cum flowing on her thigh with her fingers, tasting it again.

“Ehhh that’s unfair!” Sana pouted as she looked at Nayeon, Jeongyeon and Jihyo with jealousy.

“You better give us next time, YN.” Momo challenged you.

“Yeah… I will, because for now I can’t do it anymore.” You laid down on the couch, and Jihyo helped you get some pillow. “I’m so goddamn exhausted.”

“Maybe that’s why the clones can feel what you feel and think what you think, because they are connected on your brain.” Jihyo said. “And since you mutiplied them, that goes the same with its effects to you.”

“How ironic. I still felt like I had sex with you guys all by myself.” You panted. “You girls can sleep on my bed. Jeongyeon, remember to clean with me okay?”

“Yup. I know. Goodnight, girls.” Jeongyeon stood up on the floor. She also helped the girls to get up before they went towards you and sent a kiss to your cheek.

“Thanks for a hell of a time, YN. Goodnight.” Jihyo gave the last kiss and patted your chest before she left you sleeping on the couch. Few days later, you lived up to your words, You invited again the second batch consisting of MISAMO: Mina, Sana, and Momo and the School Meal Club trio Dahyun, Chaeyoung, and Tzuyu to finish what you started, a hot, wild, and exhausting hours of sex with all six of them. Thankfully, with the help of some expensive and strong viagra that Nayeon recommended for you to use, you were able to survive servicing these beauties, thrusting and spurting each one with a large amount of your irreplaceable cum within the depths of their pussy from dusk ‘til dawn.

#twice one shot #twice fanfic #twice smut #twice au #kpop smut #kpop au #kpop oneshots #kpop fanfic #twice nayeon smut #twice jeongyeon smut #twice momo smut #twice sana smut #twice jihyo smut #twice mina smut #twice dahyun smut #twice chaeyoung smut #twice tzuyu smut

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oddinary4bts · 4 months

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Chasing Cars | ch 4 (jjk)

☆summary: when your brother goes to study on a semester abroad, your life collides with his best friend Jeon Jungkook, who's coincidentally your roommate. Will you survive the collision, or will you crumble into dust?

☆pairings: brother's best friend!Jungkook x younger sister!female reader

☆rating: 18+ (minors DNI, this chapter contains mature content)

☆genre: forbidden love?au, college!au, slice of life!au, smut, angst (as usual a lot of it), fluff

☆warnings: the power outage is still power outing, curses, Jungkook being Jungkook, mentions of being really drunk and throwing up, explicit content: they talk about what happened in ch 3, teasing, some Mario Kart (yes, it has to be in the explicit content section lmao), hickeys, brat!reader, dom!Jungkook, big dick!Jungkook, degradation (he calls her a slut/pretty little slut), consent king Jeon Jungkook, oral sex (female receiving), fingering, jerking off, talks about having raw sex, protected sex, praise

☆word count: 9.5k

☆a/n: new chapterrrrrrr! Enjoy reading everyone <3 there's a tiny bit of angst if you squint your eyes really hard, but the real angst will hit much later on. Thank you to @moonleeai and @jessikahathaway for beta-ing, you guys are the best <3

☆series masterpost

☆add yourself to the taglist here!

☆☆☆☆☆

If I lay here If I just lay here Would you lie with me and just forget the world?

Chasing Cars, Snow Patrol

☆☆☆☆☆

Friday, February 15th

You wake up slowly, with the rising sun. Your room is dark, cold, yet you’re snuggled close to Jungkook, whose body heat has been keeping you warm all night. He’s still asleep, mouth slightly parted, and you watch him for a few seconds before the events of last night come back to your mind, and you have to shut your eyes to try to forget.

It’s hard. His arm is still draped over you, and it twitches in his sleep. You try to push him away, but he wraps his arm around you tighter, nuzzling his face in your neck. It does something to you that you entirely can’t deal with, and you shut your eyes even harder, trying to ignore the way your heart is acting up in your chest.

You breathe in, the cold air taming the burning inside of you. You exhale slowly, and to your surprise, your heart finally decides to start calming down. You keep breathing deeply for a while, and you reckon it might have worked better than you expected because, next thing you know, you wake up with a start.

Jungkook is sitting next to you, and he offers you a lopsided grin as you meet his gaze, heart once again beating wildly.

“Morning, peach,” he greets you, voice gravelly with sleep.

You force yourself to sit up, and you stretch a yawn away. “Morning.”

“Slept well?”

There’s a teasing glint in his eyes, mischief laced with his words. You know you shouldn’t be surprised. Know Jungkook is probably going to turn you into a blushing mess even more now. Especially as he smirks, head cocking to the side while he awaits your answer.

“Yeah,” you answer, and you look towards the window as his eyes bore into your profile. You take a deep breath, another yawn moving through you before you’re able to look at him again. “Did you?”

“Better than I thought I would,” he admits, and he stretches before lying back down, pulling the covers to his face. It’s adorable, in a way Jeon Jungkook should never be, and you force yourself to not let it get to your mind as he continues, “I usually sleep like shit when I sleep with someone.”

You purse your lips, refusing to give meaning to his words as you say, “Maybe last night helped.”

The lopsided smile is back, and he nods once, sighing in content. “We should lose power more often.”

In the hopes that power would come back during the night, you plugged in your phone before going to sleep. You reach for it on the night table, and even though your room is still freezing, you’re still taken aback that the power is still out.

“Well, we still don’t have any,” you inform him.

He glances at you. “Then we should go back to sleep.”

At that, you snort, shaking your head. Even though your battery is low, you still go to your emails, trying to see if you received anything from your professor.

What you find is a college-wide email informing the students that all college activities are cancelled today and through the weekend, to start again on Monday. Your gaze widens before you glance at Jungkook.

“Power is still out in college, too,” you tell him. “So, no class.”

Jungkook’s smile only grows wider, and he opens his arms for you to come cuddle again. “Then what are you waiting for?”

Your heart is warm. A hearth, in which a small fire has started to burn. It’s soft, cozy, and you worry at your bottom lip as you survey Jungkook. As you try to figure out when you crossed the line, and if it’s too late to pull back.

You figure you can decide later when the power is back on and this bubble outside of time will have burst, and you lie back next to him. His arms, still wide open, look far too inviting, and it takes you about five seconds before you’re scooching into his embrace.

He sighs in content. “You know,” he lets out. “If Tae learns, I’m a dead man.”

Reality crashes harder than a tsunami on a beach, and you try to pull away. Jungkook holds onto you, even when you push on his chest.

“I was just going to say,” he adds so you’d stop pushing him, “that we should keep this between us.”

You nod against him as you finally stop trying to pull away. “Yes, I agree.”

“Good.”

And Tae doesn’t cross your mind for the rest of the morning. Eventually, you and Jungkook decide to move out of the safe comfort of the covers, needing to eat something before you die, as Jungkook jokes. It’s a quick trip to the kitchen before you figure your room is far warmer than the rest of the apartment. You retreat with fruits, while Jungkook grabs a bowl of the food he cooked yesterday.

Watching him eat it cold makes you gag, so you turn away from him to focus on eating your apple and blueberries.

“What?” he says, and he sounds like his mouth is full.

“How can you even be eating that?”

There are a few seconds of silence, while he clearly swallows his bite. “What’s wrong with it?”

You scrunch up your nose in disgust, glancing at him over your shoulder. His gaze is narrowed, eyebrows bunched together over his eyes as he fakes offence, or perhaps suspicion. It makes you snort, and you look away from him before you speak again.

“It’s cold.”

“Wow, is it?” he teases. “Never would have noticed.”

You roll your eyes, forcing your laugh down because Jeon Jungkook shouldn’t be making you laugh anyway. Silence replaces the conversation, and you finish eating in peace, watching the world outside the window.

It looks straight out of a fairy tale. The trees are covered in a thick coat of ice, and they glisten in the morning light as if they are made of glass. It’s beautiful, in an unforgiving way, and you find peace in their contemplation.

Peace in this comfortable silence with Jungkook.

By the time you’re done eating, Jungkook has wolfed down the bowl he made for himself, and you both return to the kitchen to put away the dishes you’d used. Jungkook leans against the counter while you rinse them, arms folded on his chest.

“What should we do today?” he asks.

You cock an eyebrow. “We?”

“Yeah.” He chuckles. “Unless you want to be alone.”

Your eyes dart to him quickly, before returning to the safety of the spot where the jet of water hits the bowl you’re holding. “What do you want to do?”

“We could go for a car ride,” he suggests. “To charge up our phones.”

“Don’t you think the roads are a little too dangerous right now?”

He plays with his piercing as he frowns slightly, clearly not having thought about this. “Right.” You watch as the cogs work in his brain, and you can’t help the smile that slowly grows on your lips when his features light up. “We can just stay parked somewhere.”

“We’d still have to get there.”

He furrows his brows. “I’m sure they’ve put salt on the streets, we should be okay.”

What he doesn’t know is that you don’t need convincing. You’ve already decided you’d go, mostly because you do need to charge your phone. Not because you really need it right now, but just because the thought of not having it with you feels strange.

“We’re going?” Jungkook presses as you remain silent.

He must be immune to the teasing glint you know for a fact has taken over your eyes. You sigh, before nodding once. “Sure.”

He beams. “Let’s go!”

His enthusiasm makes you laugh, and you turn the tap off before turning to watch him as he’s leaving the kitchen.

“Shouldn’t we brush our teeth and freshen up first?”

He stops in his tracks. “Right.” He turns, flashing you a grin that reveals the same dimples you noticed yesterday. “Good luck with taking a shower, though.”

You snort. “Let’s just brush our teeth.”

Which is what you do, Jungkook pushing you with his hips as you stand next to him. You flip him off, and his eyes sparkle as he looks at you.

It stabs right through your heart, and you look away, searching for salvation on the tiles of the floor. It does nothing – reality is just a heartbeat away, and no matter how easy it is with Jungkook right now, you’re very aware that the moment the world returns to normalcy, your relationship with him will too.

And you still don’t understand where this is coming from. Where this easy complicity between you comes from, and why you’ve never really noticed before. Was it because of Taehyung?

It’s a question you ask yourself for the next hour, as you sit in Jungkook’s car listening to music and belting out tunes even though you’re not half the singer that he is. He doesn’t mention it, only laughs along with you before asking you stupid questions about your past, about Taehyung when you grew up and why you decided to move in with them.

He clearly doesn’t like you saying that it was just because it was convenient. It’s clear as spring water, and he pouts slightly as he says, “Not even for me?”

You punch him in the shoulder. “I didn’t know you when I moved in.”

“But now you do,” he teases, smirk moving on his lips.

There’s more meaning to his words than it seems, and you feel blush creeping on your cheeks. “Do I?”

“I’d say watching me jerk off and come is a good way to get to know me, no?”

“Jungkook!”

He laughs like a child as you flush furiously purple, trying to ignore how, as a matter of fact, his words are actually turning you on. You don’t want to think about last night, just want to focus on the now, on this unexpected friendship.

Jungkook has other plans for you, because he says, “Don’t tell me you didn’t like it.”

You glare at him. “Shut up.”

“You’re blushing.”

If possible, your glare intensifies. “Shut the fuck up.”

He dissolves in a fit of giggles that makes your heart skip a beat, and you roll your eyes before glancing at your phone.

“Mine’s full now,” you mutter.

For a reason you don’t quite understand, Jungkook has two phone cords in his car, both of them working to charge. He glances at his phone, shaking his head.

“You’re going to be stuck with me for longer, peach,” he tells you mischievously. “Mine’s only on 75%.”

“Do you really need it full?”

He offers you an innocent smile. “Definitely.”

Your phone buzzes, and you both glance towards it. You’ve received a text from Ria, in the group chat you share with the whole friend group. She’s asking how everyone’s surviving, and if anyone needs to crash at the dorm, which for some reason, is the only place on campus that still has power.

You hesitate for half a heartbeat before turning your phone off.

*****

Today was fun, albeit cold. After charging your phones in Jungkook’s car, you took a long walk through campus, just talking about everything and nothing as if you’d always been close.

As if he didn’t finger you with his cum last night.

Whenever the thought resurfaces, it makes you startle, and Jungkook smirks. Because he knows – obviously he does.

He knows the effect he has on you. You think he sees how you tense whenever his hand touches yours, whenever he stands just a little too close. And maybe that’s why you avoided going home for a long time, because you’re afraid that being stuck between four walls with him again will make you go insane.

Alas, when you both grow hungry sometime in the afternoon, you can’t force him to stay out, so you follow him home, ignoring the weight of your turned-off phone in your pocket.

Fortunately enough, on all the journey walking around campus, you didn’t run into anyone from your friend group. Somehow, you were afraid that you would – what would they think if they saw you hanging out with Jungkook?

More importantly, what would Hoseok think? Maybe it makes you an asshole, but in the moment, you don’t really care. You are entirely focused on Jungkook, mostly because it’s easy to be entirely focused on him. As if he’s the full moon in a summer night sky – he makes all the stars hard to see, as he shines too bright for their glow to be noticeable.

You sigh as you’re settled in the kitchen, door closed as Jungkook reheats something on the stove. It’s not extremely cold in the apartment, but keeping the door shut does help with keeping the kitchen warm enough to be bearable with only a thick sweater on.

You think Jungkook is crazy. He’s only wearing a beige and indigo athletic Nike vest, and he’s left it unzipped because he claimed he was getting too warm. Underneath, a white t-shirt rests loosely around his waist, and you’ve been doing your best to forget just how dainty his waist is, under all the clothes.

“See, we’re going to build up your heat tolerance,” he says over his shoulder, and he flashes you a grin before focusing on what he’s reheating again.

“Good luck with that,” you answer, chuckling. “I’ve tried before, and nothing works.”

“You and Tae really are the worst at that,” Jungkook teases, and you roll your eyes even if he can’t see.

Indeed, he’s turned his head towards the window, and he watches the sun as it gets lower in the sky, nearing the horizon. You’re afraid of when it’ll be gone under; you’re afraid it’ll elicit sinful activities between you and Jungkook again.

Afraid, yet with a certain kind of apprehension to it. Perhaps because it’s not fear of him, but rather fear of yourself.

It’s hard to remember that he’s Taehyung’s best friend when you’re alone with him like this.

Especially when he sets a steaming bowl of food in front of you, a wicked smile on his lips as he forces you to eat. As you choke on it, the heat too much to handle for you. Jungkook laughs out loud before handing you a glass of ice-cold water.

It barely helps, and the heat remains for a while as you eat, and even more so as you’re done, watching Jungkook eating a second portion as if he hasn’t eaten the first one in record time. You’re playing music on your phone, your usual study playlist – lo-fi beats – and Jungkook seems to like it. He’s been nodding his head to the music as he devoured his bowl.

When he finishes eating, sitting back in his chair as he rests a hand on his stomach, he once again offers you the wide grin. The sun is setting now – the whole kitchen is turning to gold, and you hate that the glow makes him look ethereal, like he’s a piece of heaven fallen to Earth for you to enjoy.

“Do you want to wash yourself?” Jungkook asks out of the blue. You cock an eyebrow in question, but before you’ve had a chance to say anything, he adds, “We could warm some water on the stove and use that to wash ourselves.”

Your eyes widen. “That’s actually a good idea.”

“Come on, peach,” he lets out, and he chuckles as he shakes his head, a little condescendingly. “You really think I’m stupid, don’t you?”

Stupid wouldn’t be the word that you’d use. Arrogant, maybe. Too full of himself, for sure. But you don’t think that saying so would be a good idea, so you only shrug.

“Aren’t you?”

He bursts out laughing, that goofy smile that makes your heart skip beats in your chest as if you’re twelve and it’s the first time you’re speaking to a guy. “I’m not, thank you very much. I wouldn’t be in college if I was.”

“Lots of stupid people are in college,” you point out mischievously.

He tuts. “I’d thought by now you’d know I’m not a lot of people, peach.” He cocks his head to the side, and his eyes drop to your lips. “You get fingered by a lot of guys like that?”

You turn to fire. “Excuse me?”

And the goofy smile returns, as if he didn’t just say the crudest sentence in the world. “Just teasing you.”

You narrow your eyes but don’t find any retort to that. It makes Jungkook’s grin widen, and then he gets up to bring your bowl and his to the sink. As he’s rinsing them, he offers you a look.

“Should I reheat some water then?” he asks, the teasing tone gone.

You try a look towards him, but standing there, the sun forms too much of an aura around him, so you can barely see him even if you squint your eyes.

“Yeah, I’d like that.”

“One pot for you and one for me, then!”

His statement makes you laugh, and you get up to actually help him get the pots on the stove. You turn the gas on, using the lighter so that the flames catch, and soon the water is heating up, and the prospect of freshening up brings a smile to your lips.

You notice Jungkook looking at it, features turning somber. And he’s quick to look away. Quick to focus on where the sun dipped under the horizon, watching the clouds turning to gold above.

“Have you spoken to Tae today?” he asks, and the reminder of your brother makes you clench your jaw, ever so slightly.

“No,” you admit. You think he’ll say more, but he remains silent. So you take it upon yourself to make conversation, and you ask, “Have you?”

He shrugs. “Just told him the power is still out.”

“Mmh.”

The silence is deafening then – you can barely hear it over the clamour in your thoughts. And you don’t know where it’s coming from, only that the more the silence stretches, the more you grow unsteady on your feet.

“How did you guys meet?” you ask, voice sounding a little strained.

Jungkook shoots you a look. “He didn’t tell you?”

You purse your lips and shake your head no, which earns you a chuckle from him. It makes you grow suspicious, and you narrow your gaze. “What?”

“Nothing.” He pauses, observes your features for a moment with those big doe eyes of his before he says, “We met Frosh week.”

You remain silent, waiting for him to continue.

“He was pissed out drunk in a bush,” Jungkook admits, and his eyes fog up with the memories as he looks away from you. “Jimin is the one that found him first. And mind you, I only knew Jimin for a few days then, since we were dorm roommates.”

But you know how easy friendship forms in that Frosh week. You and Nabi are a good example of it after all.

“We couldn’t find anyone who knew him, so we brought him back to the dorm. He threw up in Jimin’s bed, and the next day he suggested grabbing breakfast together, as a thank you for taking care of him.”

Jungkook smiles fondly, and his gaze connects with yours. “And the rest is history.”

It sure is. You’re not really sure where you come into this story – if you should come into it at all. Because Jungkook and Taehyung really are close – what would Taehyung say if he knew what Jungkook and you did?

It’s a scary thought, one that you’ve remedied with Jungkook already. You just have to not tell Taehyung, simple as that.

“I think the water is ready,” Jungkook admits, and he dips his fingers in one of the pots. He nods, before saying, “You can grab yours, and go to the bathroom. I’ll clean up in my room.”

“Don’t you need soap?”

He raises an eyebrow. “You know soap can be carried outside of a bathroom? Like, it’s not confined-“

His sentence dies as you punch him in the chest, and he starts laughing as you curse him under your breath, grabbing the pot.

“Open the door for me,” you grumble as you walk towards it.

“Please?”

You look up to the water-stained ceiling. “Are you for real?”

“Yes.”

You debate silently, though you know that you’ll cave in.

You reckon you’ll always cave in where Jungkook is concerned.

“Can you please open the door for me?” you ask, and you scold yourself internally for not being able to stand your ground.

“Of course, peach,” he says, grinning widely. “I can actually carry that to the bathroom for you, I need to grab soap and a towel anyway.”

He walks towards you, gently taking the pot out of your hands, so you end up opening the door for him, begrudgingly following him to the bathroom. You follow him in, watching him as he carefully puts the pot down in the sink.

“Here you go,” he says as he shoots you a look over his shoulder.

You can’t help but look away as your gazes connect, before mumbling, “Thank you.”

“You could at least sound happy about it,” he teases. You roll your eyes, though a smile teases the corners of your lips. Jungkook taps your cheek, and you bristle, stepping away from him.

If he cares he doesn’t show it, instead moving to grab a washcloth and his shower gel.

Are you disappointed to see him go? Maybe. But you don’t let it show, instead shutting the door behind him, making sure to lock it before you strip out of your clothes to wash up.

It’s freezing, and you hate every second of it, so you make it quick, washing the most strategic and important body parts. When you’re done, you move to grab your clean clothes from the…

You never grabbed clean clothes, did you?

You curse under your breath, mostly cursing Jungkook for making you so stupid around him. You hate it - you feel like you lose most of your brain cells when he’s around. But you can’t help it, and you tightly wrap yourself in a towel as you pray to the God above, if there’s one, to not make you run into Jungkook as you walk back to your room.

Of course, Jungkook opens the door to his room the second you are in front of it. You startle, freezing like a deer in headlights, and Jungkook’s gaze dips to your legs.

You hate the smirk growing on his lips the second it appears.

“What’s got you walking around naked in this temperature?”

Though you reckon his gaze warms you up in an instant, you reply, “Fuck off, I just forgot to get clean clothes.”

He leans against his doorframe, slipping his hands in the pocket of his grey sweatpants. He looks the perfect picture of male insolence, and fuck, it does things to you that it shouldn’t.

Like, make you remember that he fingered you with his cum yesterday. Thinking about it, it was a really stupid thing to do, but you hadn’t been able to resist…

And from the way he’s eyeing you right now, you highly doubt you’ll be able to resist him again. You realize then that the apartment is darkening, that soon you’ll have to light up the candles…

You’re sinking in quicksands, aren’t you?

“How unfortunate,” Jungkook comments, always so arrogant.

“I said it already, but do really fuck off, JK,” you reply.

He tilts his head to the side - the predator, and you, its next meal. “That’s not what you were saying yesterday.”

You blush, bright scarlet taking over your features, and you roll your eyes, choosing to ignore his comment as you finish walking to your room.

“That’s what I thought,” he says behind you, and you flip him off over your shoulder, which makes him laugh that boyish laugh that does things to you.

You lean against the bedroom door once you get in, heart beating out of your chest, cursing power for going out, and cursing your brother for choosing to do a semester abroad.

It’s useless - the cursing, that is. Because it won’t change anything, and a small, tiny, minuscule part of you doesn’t want it to… so you curse yourself too for good measure.

By the time you finally emerge from your bedroom, the sun has fully set, and you’ve been using your phone as a flashlight. Jungkook is sitting in the living room, playing on his Switch, which apparently still has battery, and he glances at you as you approach.

“Want to play a game?” he asks, offering you a small smile.

His features are lit from the screen, and he looks soft, his big eyes slightly crinkling at the corners. You hold in your own smile, instead cocking an eyebrow.

“So that I can beat your ass?” you say.

You watch as fire catches in his gaze, and you think he’s about to burn you to the spot. “Oh, you wanna play this game?” he says, his voice suddenly an octave lower.

A thrilled shiver runs down your spine, and you finish crossing the distance between you and him, sitting next to him. The leather couch is freezing, but you hold your wince in as you motion to the Switch.

“You think you can beat my ass?” he asks.

“I know I can.”

He smirks, leaning back on the couch. He rests his head against the backrest, turning his head towards you. “Oh, peach,” he breathes out. “You’re cute when you try to be sassy.”

You widen your gaze. “Try to be sassy! I’m serious, I’ll beat your ass.”

“In any game?” he asks, and his eyes dip to your lips.

“Mario Kart,” you say, folding your arms on your chest.

You’re wearing a thick sweater, yet it doesn’t stop Jungkook from looking down, and you know exactly what he’s seeing - you, with your legs spread wide open for him like they were yesterday.

“Winner gets head,” he says, and you really think you’re about to catch fire.

“What about Tae?”

You can’t help the question. Because you don’t want to do that to your brother, but you’ve been unable to resist. You know shame and guilt will catch up to you one day - hell, Ria will never let you live it down if she learns what’s already happened.

Jungkook shrugs. “I don’t think it’d make any difference after yesterday.”

“So you want me to choke on your dick?”

Night and you and Jeon Jungkook really don’t mix well, do they? Because you want him. You want him so bad right now you think you’re about to go insane, yet you know you shouldn’t.

“Fuck, peach.” He chuckles. “I want to know if you taste as good as you look.”

You wet your lips, and his eyes fall to your mouth, staying there as you say, “Well then, winner gets head,” you murmur, and you think he’s about to say ‘fuck it’ and jump on you.

You really do think he won’t be able to resist, and frankly, you don’t want him to. You feel yourself leaning forward, a moth to the flame, but Jungkook clears his throat, and his eyes shoot to yours.

“Deal.”

Jungkook sets up the game, and since you can’t play multiplayer thanks to the power being out and the TV not functioning, you settle on whoever gets first place first. Which you reckon is stupid - getting first place when you’re playing against the AI isn’t really an impressive feat.

You shiver before Jungkook starts his race, and he pauses the game to glance at you. “Do you want to go to your room?”

You cock an eyebrow. “Too excited to play here?”

He rolls his eyes, though a smile tugs at the corners of his lips. “No, you’re freezing, and I figured, since your room is the smallest, if we do like yesterday, we can probably keep it warm. Or at least warmer than here.” His last words are accompanied by a vague motion of his hand encompassing the living room, and you reckon he does have a point.

“Sure then,” you say, nodding once.

You get up from the couch, and Jungkook quickly follows you. He’s so close, looming behind you like he’s the predator about to pounce on its prey, and you shudder with delight, warmth pooling in your lower stomach.

You think he knows. You’re convinced he does, because a few minutes later, when you’re in your room with the candles on, sitting on your bed, he leans against the wall, abandoning his Switch to the side.

“What are you doing?”

“It’s so easy to get into your bed, peach,” he teases, and you startle when one of his large hands lightly grazes your thigh.

You swat it away without an ounce of regret, even though the spot he touched feels like it’s been hit by lightning. “Are you saying I’m easy?”

His mouth falls open and he looks surprised, even maybe a little apologetic. “I didn’t mean it that way.”

The wicked smile you offer him makes him chuckle as he realizes you were teasing him, and he grabs his Switch, his brow creasing a little with the frown that adorns his features from concentrating. It’s cute. You reckon it’s adorable, and you reckon you shouldn’t feel that way about your brother’s best friend, so you push the thought as far away as you can.

It’s not like Jungkook is the kind of guy you should feel endearment for. Because you know he’d only break your heart - he’s not the most popular guy on campus for nothing, after all.

“Ready?” he tells you.

You nod. “Good luck.”

He doesn’t need it. He gets first place, and he puts his Switch down on the bed as you realize what it means.

But you’re not going to give in so easily to him, will you?

“If I get first place, too, then this doesn’t count.”

He fake-glares at you, but he shrugs. “Alright. Let’s see if you can get first place.”

The way he says it is ominous, and you gulp, cheeks flushing with pink as you grab the Switch. As per always, you choose Peach as your character, which obviously earns you a snicker from Jungkook, but you don’t mind.

Maybe because you’re starting to like when he calls you peach.

You easily start the race in the first position, Peach racing and drifting ahead of the AI-controlled characters. Jungkook shifts next to you, attracting your attention, and you almost run into a wall, thankfully recovering quickly.

It doesn’t last long. Because next time he shifts, Jungkook brushes your thigh, and you just know he has a wicked smirk on his lips without having to look at him.

“Stop,” you say through gritted teeth.

“Or what?” he purrs, and you nudge him with an elbow. He just laughs, his hand now resting flatly on your thigh. “Got trouble focusing?”

“You’re cheating,” you whine, and you’re hit by a blue shell which puts you back a few positions.

“Am I?” he breathes out.

You sigh as he leans closer to you, and his nose brushes your cheek. Instinctively, you tilt your head to the side, and he chuckles as he pushes your hair off your shoulder, before leaning even closer.

His lips ghost on your neck, and your eyes flutter close, the Switch entirely forgotten in your hands.

“Jungkook…”

His tongue darts out, tasting you, and then he sucks a hickey on your skin. “What?”

“What are you doing?” you ask, voice barely over a whisper.

“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about my fingers inside of you,” he says, huskily. “All fucking day.” He nibbles at your earlobe, and you let out a breathy sound that makes him chuckle again. “Just been thinking about how you’d feel on my dick too.”

“Fuck.”

“I know.” He kisses your jaw, and then pulls away, sitting back against the wall. “I think you lost.”

You open your eyes, realizing that you’re still holding the Switch. He’s right – the AIs have finished while Jungkook was teasing you, and you stare at the screen for a few seconds before meeting his gaze.

He looks victorious, happy with himself. You want to wipe the smirk off his lips, so you put down the Switch on the bed, kneeling next to him.

“So you want me to suck your dick now?” you say, voice low, and you drag a hand on his thigh.

His tongue toys with his piercings. “Well, wasn’t that the deal?”

Emboldened, you straddle his lap, and you wrap a hand around his throat for support. You feel him swallow, and you lean closer, watching as the smirk slowly disappears from his lips.

“Was it?”

He gulps. He fucking gulps, and you can’t help but bite your lower lip. Even though the room is cold, you feel warm, a tingly sensation slowly taking over your entire body. His eyes fall to your mouth, and it takes him a few seconds before he says, “Yes.”

You have him right where you want him to be. “Damn, who knew Jeon Jungkook wanted me so bad?”

You lean in, brushing your lips on his, tongue darting out to play with his piercings. He doesn’t move, doesn’t do anything, though you can tell that he wants to touch you.

Maybe because you’re perched on his erection.

“Maybe Tae should have left before, mmh?” you continue. “Maybe you wouldn’t be so desperate…”

Jungkook grabs your waist, spinning you around dizzyingly until you’re on the bed and he’s hovering over you. “Enough,” he says, voice rough.

You don’t lose the smirk. “Or what?”

He wets his lips and then leans in. “I’m going to have so much fun wiping that smirk from your lips, peach.”

“Oh, will you now?” you fire back. “Better get into action then.”

One of his hands grabs the side of your head, tightening around your hair, and he forces you to turn your head to the side. He leaves wet kisses down your neck and then moves back up to your jaw.

“If only Tae knew how much of a slut you are,” Jungkook says. “A pretty little slut.” Your smirk wavers as he pushes your legs apart with a knee. “I wonder, are you already soaked for me, mmh?”

“Why don’t you find out?”

He chuckles darkly. “Fucking hell, you really are driving me crazy.”

And even though you shouldn’t, even though Jungkook is your older brother’s best friend, even though you know guilt will eventually catch up to you, you say, “Then act on it, JK. Show me just how crazy I’m making you feel.”

His mouth collides with yours with force, and you immediately reach up, running your hands through his hair. He sucks on your tongue, earning a moan from you, and he grunts as you pull on his hair, the soft strands feeling like silk on your fingers.

He grinds into you, and you feel the powerful length of him rub against you. You know he’ll stretch you wide open, and you want him so bad it almost hurts.

You think you’ve wanted him for months already. Yesterday, you could blame it on the alcohol, on your inhibition being altered, but today… Today you know it’s always been about the tattoos, the piercings, and the shameless flirting.

You’ve been in Jungkook’s orbit ever since September – you were bound to crash into him someday.

Jungkook pulls away to meet your gaze. The weight of his body on yours feels right – better than Hoseok’s ever felt. The thought douses you, and you think Jungkook notices.

You know he does, because he says, “Are you sure you want to do this?”

Your eyes flit around his features for a time – his nose, his mouth, the mole underneath his lips, his left eye, the scar on his cheek. They eventually settle on his lip piercings.

“Are you getting insecure?” you tease. Because it’s all that you know how to do, the only way you can think of pushing the vulnerability away.

His tongue pokes at his cheek, and he presses another searing kiss on your lips. You can’t help but moan softly as he grinds again, and you instinctively wrap your legs around him, your arms circling his neck as well.

When he pulls away next, it’s to rest his forehead against yours. You breathe the same air for a few seconds, until he says, “Consent is hot, peach. Tell me you want it, or I’m stopping now.”

“I want it, JK,” you answer. “I want you to fuck me dumb until my room isn’t cold anymore.”

Jungkook straightens, kneeling between your legs. The candles cast flickering lights on his honey skin, and you watch unblinkingly as he takes off his shirt.

He’s beautiful. You realized that yesterday, though you didn’t see him without the shirt. But he’s truly beautiful, all muscle and delicate waist, and his skin glows golden under the light of the candles. His brown nipples are perked prettily on his chest, and you want to touch him, want to drag your hands over every powerful line of his body.

“Shit, it’s fucking cold,” he says, and he quickly bends down again.

You grab the blankets, pulling them on top of him. Without any trace of hesitation, you rest your hands on his back, and you lightly scratch him with your nails.

“Then we better get you warmed up,” you purr.

You don’t need to say it twice. Jungkook finds your mouth again, and he grunts as you dig your nails in his skin, before releasing the pressure. He then goes down to your jaw, down your neck, and he disappears under the covers, spreading your legs wide open with his large hands.

“Can I take these off?” his muffled voice says from beneath the blankets.

You pull enough on the covers to see his face, big doe eyes awaiting your consent. “Yes.”

He smirks wickedly. “Good.”

He’s quick to rid you of your pants. He leaves your panties on, his large hands caressing your thighs as he settles between your legs. You know he’s going to eat you out, and you think you’ll go insane. But nothing could have prepared you for how much of a tease he is.

Indeed, Jungkook presses light kisses on the insides of your thighs, mouth ghosting over where you need him the most, never once giving in to your desires. You’re soaking wet, painfully so by the time you groan, hand flying to his hair as you try to push his head where you want him.

He resists, chuckling darkly. “Growing a little impatient?”

“Eat me out,” you answer breathlessly. “Fuck.”

“Why should I?” He bites the inside of your thigh. “I love watching you squirm under me.”

You whine, yet this time, he licks the wet spot on your panties. Your thighs instinctively close, and he forces them wide open again.

“Don’t move,” he orders.

You try to obey. You really do, but when he pushes your panties to the side and sucks on your clit, your back arches off the bed.

“Jungkook,” you breathe out.

He doesn’t answer, too busy pushing his tongue inside you, parting your folds easily. You moan, and your grip on his hair tightens, though you keep him close. And he doesn’t seem like he wants to pull away. He starts making out with your pussy, squelching sounds coming from between your legs with every swipe of his tongue.

Soon, he gets bored of pushing his tongue in and out of you, and he moves back to your clit, circling it unforgivingly. He’s good, that much you’ll admit, and when he circles your entrance with one long finger, you moan again.

“You want it?” he asks, pulling away just long enough to voice the words.

He’s right back on your clit a fraction of a second later, and he sucks on it, flicking the sensitive bud with his tongue.

You feel the orgasm. It’s still far, but it’s on the horizon of your conscience, and you know it’ll hit good once it does. So you say, “Please, Jungkook.”

He doesn’t disappoint. He pushes his finger in, arches it to rub that sweet spot inside of you in time with the motions of his tongue on your clit. You grind in his face by reflex, and he grunts against you as you do so, resting his tongue flat on your clit so that you can pleasure yourself on his face.

He must know it’s not enough. Because after a few seconds of it, he starts moving his face from side to side, and the orgasm looms closer, aiming for you at the speed of light.

It hits when Jungkook pushes a second finger in, stretching you, and your walls clench hard against his digits, though he keeps on pushing them in and out of you in a steady rhythm. He sucks on your clit as you come, and you think you’ve moaned his name at least twice by the time he finally pulls away, drying his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Shit, peach,” he says, and you watch him through the ecstasy blurring your gaze. “You taste so fucking good.”

As if he wants to show you, he captures your mouth in a kiss. You taste yourself, but you’re too fucked out to be able to agree or disagree with him. All you can do is moan in his mouth, and he swallows it with a swipe of his tongue.

And as he keeps kissing you, keeps branding himself in your mouth, you run your hand on his body, blood boiling from the sheer strength that you know he has. You reach for the band of his sweatpants, going lower to wrap your hand around his clothed length.

He’s big and heavy in your hand.

Mostly, he’s not wearing any underwear. Or if he is, they are extremely loose, because you’re able to wrap your fingers around him even through the sweatpants. He bucks his hips, and you tighten your hold.

“Why don’t you put that pretty hand under the clothes, mmh?” he teases against your jaw, before he goes to nibbling on your ear. “I’ve been wanting to feel it wrapped around my cock.”

You don’t hesitate. You move back up to the band of his sweatpants, and you quickly push your hand in. You sigh in delight as you find he’s not wearing any underwear, fingers grazing over the velvety softness of his length. He hisses but doesn’t say anything as you test the waters, slowly grabbing his dick.

You lightly stroke him, and he bucks his hips, trying to fuck your hand.

“Impatient, aren’t you?” you tease him, and he bites at your jaw.

“I’ve been wanting you for a really long time, peach.”

His words make your heart pause in your chest. Because you feel like there’s a deeper meaning, like it isn’t just shameless flirting in the heat of the action. It reminds you of the kiss yesterday, of the way he’d pulled you on his lap with no other intention than to kiss you.

And it makes you tighten your grip on his dick, and he grunts as you start jerking him off faster. But it’s awkward and clumsy with the sweatpants on, so you pull your hand out after a few seconds.

“Take these off,” you say, and he immediately kneels to obey, taking off his sweatpants quickly before resuming his position between your legs.

You’re not sure you were prepared for the sight of Jeon Jungkook fully naked in your bed. Though goosebumps prick at his skin from the cold, he still looks devilish, like he’s about to drag you to hell. His dick stands proud and tall, leaking precum, and the muscles of his thighs strain against his skin.

He’s big. And not just his dick. Jungkook works out a lot, spends hours every week at the gym, and it truly shows in every angle of him. He looks sculpted in marble, a perfect body that accentuates the beauty of his features, that contradicts the innocence of his big eyes.

Or maybe what truly contradicts it is the way he fists his cock, jerking off quickly as he eyes you. As he stares you down, and you feel ready to go all over again just from the sight of it.

“You have condoms?” he asks, and he grunts as he keeps jerking himself off.

You have half a thought to tell him to keep going, to come all over you, but you want it too much to resist. So you motion to your night table, saying, “Bottom drawer.”

He nods appreciatively, letting go of his cock so that he can bend and rummage through the drawer until he finds the condoms. He winces as he straightens, a tinfoil package in hand.

“Pretty sure that’s going to be too tight for me.”

You roll your eyes. “Condoms stretch, you know that?”

“Not enough,” he says, flicking your nose teasingly. “But I don’t think we should go raw, so that’ll do.”

Yet, the thought of going raw with him… You grab a hold of his wrist before he’s able to start unrolling the condom on his dick, and he cocks an eyebrow as he meets your gaze.

“Are you clean?”

You see him gulp. Indeed, his throat bobs, and he tilts his head to the side. “Got tested last week,” he admits. “But I really don’t think we should go raw.”

“I’m clean.”

“You’ve been fucking that other guy,” Jungkook says.

“We always wear protection.”

Jungkook purses his lips, taking a deep breath. “Honestly peach, I think I wouldn’t last a minute if I fucked you raw right now. Let me put the condom on.”

He says it in a stern way that makes you let go of his wrist. You feel bad, wondering if you were pushing a boundary, but Jungkook doesn’t seem like he notices. Indeed, he busies himself with putting the condom on, rolling it down his dick, and he winces in pain once it’s all the way down.

“That shit’s fucking tight,” he comments, and then he positions himself between your legs again. His large hands find your thighs, and he caresses up and down once before meeting your gaze. “Are you okay?” he asks, with no lust or desire or anything other than concern for you.

Because of course, he’d notice that you’re feeling bad.

“Sorry if I was insisting…” you say, vaguely motioning to his dick.

He looks down at himself. “About the condom?” He waits for you to nod your head before he says anything else. “Peach, don’t worry about it. I’m seriously close right now, which is really fucking weird, and I just want to be able to make you feel good, m’kay?” He leans down, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. You melt, wrapping your arms around his neck to keep him close. He chuckles, mumbling against your lips, “I don’t know what you’re doing to me, but you really turn me on.”

You think you know what it is. You don’t think it’s about you, or about him. It’s rather about the feeling of doing something you shouldn’t be doing. Of doing something forbidden, because he’s Taehyung’s friend, and you’re Taehyung’s younger sister.

But you don’t say it. Instead, you whisper, “Then fuck me good, Jungkook.”

He lets out a breathy sound as he leans his forehead against yours. There’s something so intimate about the gesture that you feel your heart soaring in your chest, and then he pushes your ruined panties to the side again so that he can nudge your entrance with his dick.

“I will,” he promises, and then he pushes in. Just his tip, yet your mouth falls open at how large he already feels, and you tighten your hold on his neck. “Let me know if it hurts.”

Unforgivingly, Jungkook slams all the way in. You let out a broken sound, and he quickly captures your lips in a kiss as he stays right there, deep inside of you, unmoving so that you can adjust around him. And you know you have a lot of adjusting to do – he’s so large it burns, yet the pain feels good. Far too good, and you easily understand how Jungkook got the reputation that he has.

When Jungkook pulls away from the kiss, he slowly pulls out, before pushing all the way in again. Your walls suck him in, and he grunts, leaning his forehead against yours once more.

“Fuck,” he groans. “You feel so fucking good.”

Before you can reply, Jungkook establishes a steady rhythm. Nothing too crazy, but the drag of his dick on your walls is making you see stars, and you softly moan as he keeps moving, never once faltering.

“Moan for me, peach,” he breathlessly says. “I want to hear you fucking screaming my name.”

And then everything changes. Jungkook kneels between your thighs, pulls your legs against his chest, and starts pounding into you, bending down just enough to hit the sweetest spot inside of you. The change of rhythm and position makes you cry out, and your walls clench around him.

He echoes your cry with a moan of his own, something breathless that makes you want to look at him, to stay with him like this forever. So you open your eyes, and the sight of him is nearly enough to make you climax right then and there.

Yet you don’t. You don’t come as you just watch him, watch the way he’s frowning, teeth digging in his lower lip once in a while. Beads of sweat quickly appear on his temples, but he doesn’t care. He doesn’t falter, not even once, as he fucks you, and you feel that familiar knot forming in your lower stomach.

You still don’t come. You keep it in – you don’t know why. You just enjoy the moment, refusing to rush towards its ending. Instead, when Jungkook pushes your legs open so that he can bend down and kiss you again, you welcome him in. You wrap your legs tight around him, keeping him close, and you scratch at his back with one hand, the other getting lost in his hair.

He grunts in your mouth, and he finally switches the rhythm, aiming for harder yet slower. It makes him reach new depths, and you can’t help but moan loudly as he keeps going, keeps ramming into you.

For the first time ever since you moved here, your bed slams into the wall from the force of Jungkook’s thrusts. It’s hot, especially as he moves to your neck, sucking hard.

“Best fucking pussy,” he says in your ear. “Fuck.”

And then he straightens again, forcing you to let go of him, before pulling out. You whine at the sudden loss of sensation, but he just looks down at your pussy, licking his lips at the sight.

“You’re so fucking creamy and wet,” he tells you. “Look at my cock.”

You obey, looking down to where your bodies almost meet. His dick is indeed covered with your juices, and Jungkook gently pushes it between your folds, collecting even more juice. It’s sinful, inherently so, and you moan lightly as he rubs his dick on your clit.

“Think you’ll be able to come for me again?” he asks.

You look up, meeting his gaze. His lips are slightly parted as he breathes in and out quickly, and he smirks wickedly as you nod, once.

“Make me come,” you say, finding some defiance in you again. “You think you’ll be able to do that for me?”

His gaze widens, and then he chuckles. “Fuck peach.” He chuckles again, slightly shaking his head. “I’m going to get addicted to this fucking pussy of yours.”

You whine as he moves from between your legs, lying down on his back. You shoot him a look, and he motions at his body as if in invitation. It makes you laugh, yet you still climb on top of him, grinding on his dick.

His eyes go to your chest, and he gently grabs the hem of your shirt. Even though it’s still cold in your room – though warmer than before – you quickly take off your shirt, wincing as the cold air hits you head on.

“So pretty,” Jungkook praises, and his hands reach up to push your breasts together. “So fucking pretty.”

You blush slightly under the praise, and you’re about to sink on his dick when he stops you. Your eyes go wide, and he motions to your panties.

“Take these off too. I want to see all of you.”

He says it with so much reverence for you that you can’t say no. You can only obey, sitting next to him just long enough so that you can remove the panties. They are soaked, and you throw them towards the dirty clothes hamper before climbing back on top of Jungkook.

Your gazes meet, and there’s a moment of you watching each other. You wish you could read his gaze, wish you could know what it means when he grabs your wrists to pull you down. Your eyes never disconnect from his, not even as one of his hands goes between your bodies so that he can align his dick with your entrance.

And then he pushes up, pushes in. As if you forgot just how big he is, you moan, eyes fluttering shut on instinct. Jungkook grunts, wrapping his arms around your waist, before saying, “Look at me.”

You do. You meet his gaze again and try to hold it as he starts jackhammering into you, the new angle so good you feel like you’re slowly slipping out of your body, soaring towards the sky outside. It’s so good all you can think about is him, his body, the way that he holds you so gently yet fucks you so rough. You rest one hand on the side of his face as he keeps fucking you, and when you can’t resist anymore, you hide your face in his neck.

“You’re such a good girl,” Jungkook says. “You take me so fucking well.” He grunts loudly, slamming to the hilt. You think he’s coming, but then he pulls almost all the way out, before slamming in again. “I never want to stop fucking you.”

You moan, and then your lips ghost on the shell of his ear. Though you’ve been struggling to speak, you say, “You’re so fucking big.”

“I know,” he breathes out. “Let me know if I hurt you.”

You whine. “Never. You’d never hurt me.”

His grip on you tightens, like he’s trying to say he wouldn’t hurt you, wouldn’t be able to, and then he’s fucking you again. The knot in your stomach comes back in full force, especially as he starts whispering filthy praises in your ear, growing more breathless with every swipe of his hips.

Just when you think you’ll come, Jungkook grunts, “I’m going to c-“

He never finishes his sentence, but the feeling of his dick twitching inside of you as he stills deep inside makes you fly over the edge, and your walls start spasming around his cock, milking his orgasm. It feels far too good, like you’ve reached nirvana, and it takes you so long to come down from your high that you believe you never will.

But you do. You do, and the first thing you notice is the cold. Though it’s a lot warmer than it was when you started this whole ordeal, you still shiver.

Jungkook gently pulls a blanket over you, before circling your waist again. He doesn’t let go, not even as his dick, now soft, slips out of you. He lets you lay on top of him, ear against his chest so that you listen to his heartbeat, refusing to move.

You don’t want anything to pop this bubble of peace. Never. You just want to stay here with him, content breathing in the same air as him, until eternity flashes in front of you. Until you grow old and grey, to go to sleep forever. It’s a powerful feeling, though you like to tell yourself that it’s mutual. That his heart, beating softly in his chest, beats for you, in time with the beats of your own heart. You hope that he, too, doesn’t want to let go, though you reckon that this probably was just a hook-up to him, something he’ll be proud of, yet keep to himself. Because wouldn’t Jungkook be the kind of guy to be proud he bagged the little sister? You think he would.

And the thought scares you more than you would ever dare to admit.

Prev | Chapter 4.5 | Next

☆☆☆☆☆

Is it me or is it hot in here? oof- Let me know what you thought of this chapter! I hope that smidge of angst at the end doesn't scare you too much...... bc trust me it scares me OOP

#chasing cars ch 4 #jungkook smut #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #jungkook x you #jungkook x reader #jungkook fic #jungkook #jjk smut #jjk angst #jjk fluff #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jjk fic #jjk #jeon jungkook #btswritersclub #chasing cars #chasing cars series

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goldsbitch · 5 months

Note

can I request a Lando x reader where the reader’s weakness is when people stroke her hair? Her mind goes completely blank and she falls silent immediately when people stroke her hair and Lando uses it at his advantage.

Fluffy pls and ty🫶🏻

omg, i love this prompt so much - thank you and hope you like it!!

This is one is dripping with sweetness a little too much, don't say I did not warn you. No other warning.

Lando was born a tease, oscillating between clueless and shy, to unapologetic and bordeline dickish. It all depended on the setting, his relationship to the person and how much sleep he got the night before. Sometimes your boyfriend was the sweetest little thing, giggling shyly about everything instead of coming up with an actual response, and the other times he was a walking menace actively seeking every opportunity how to get you into a flustered state.

You and Lando were full on deep in the beginning of your relationship, the sweetest part of the honeymoon phase. To put it bluntly - fucking almost non stop. And the desire was never-ending. Blinding sunshine kissed good morning to every day you two got to wake up next to each other. Problems seem to be non existent. Bliss.

It was the way his hair curled when he got a little bit sweaty, his toned body what you were desperate to explore from every angle and the need to know every little secret trick that worked on him. It became some sort of a game, who would get better at knowing the other. Which one of you found all the buttons to push.

Lando rose up that morning and chose violence. Metaphorical one, of course. Snuggling up to you in order to wake you up as well for some morning work out, as he like to call it. Whispering sweet nothings to your ear and touching you all over your body. But you were just incredibly sore from the past few days, physically unable to keep up.

"Why don't you love me anymore," he pleaded jokingly as you murmured another weak appeal for your sleep.

"Lando, you know I love you more than anything," you replied, still half asleep. But it was hard to distinguish as reality resembled a sweet dream everyday lately.

"I remember when you used to want me, physically," he kept going.

"We literally had sex few hours ago, stop whining," you kissed him between your words. He looked at you with his incredible eyes, little devil dancing in each one of them.

"Exactly, too long ago. Wish I could go back in time when you were not sore and get inside you all over again."

You simply laughed, absolutely smitten with this lovey dovey side of him. His words made you melt like butter sitting under direct sun. You brushed your noses together and then he kissed you.

The best part of romantic relationships is the one that you cannot absolutely share with other people, the almost embarrassing pleas, desire and gross goofiness, simping at each other all the time.

"Fine, if you play by these rules, I'll come back with my own revenge," he said finally as you inevitably had to start getting ready to go to the paddock with him.

Today was the big day. You'd been spotted in public countless of times, the "girlfriend" title officially sitting on your head for weeks now. But this was the first time you were to join him in the paddock as a wag. You were trying to hide your nervousness, but he saw right through you. Before you exited the apartment, he made you stop and took your face in his hands. "I'm happy I get to do this with you. I love parading you around, for everyone to see that we're a team." You smiled, his words hitting like first snowflakes of the year. "Poor Oscar, I can't wait to finally trauma dump the shared misery you bring to our lives," you jokes and locked lips with him once again. "God, it's terrifying how much I like you," you said automatically, without having to think about it.

It actually wasn't as bad as you'd expected. It was definitely weird and strange, but not necessarily bad. Having Lando by your side as you passed the gates definitely helped. The photographers were lined up as people at a shooting range would and it did feel like that at first. But as quickly as you were initially overwhelmed, fatigue took over you and you blocked their ever-presence out. Trying to chat up those Lando introduce you to and memorizing the names. You knew how much some of these people meant to Lando, so you were trying to be at your best behavior. The thought that his friends would hate you in the same way as some of his fans haunted you.

In the middle of all the rush, you parted for a moment. To be honest, little peace of quiet and chill was something you appreciated. But remember, Lando woke up and chose violence this morning. And his plan was quite simple, yet bulletproof.

"Y/N! There you are, my love," you heard from coming from behind you. "I have someone to introduce to you! I'm very much sure you'll appreciate meeting him." As you turned, you saw Daniel Ricciardo walking your way with your Lando. You were a little perplexed as to why Lando was so cheerful about that. You clearly remembered him getting very upset when you admitted to him that at some point in the past, when formula 1 was a world far away from you, that you had a minor crush on Daniel. Which obviously went out of the window once you met Lando. That did not mean that Lando was 100% ok with it.

"Y/N, as I'm sure you know, this is Daniel, hell of a driver and good friend of mine," Lando continued and you knew him well enough to know he had ulterior motives. Not sure what to do, you smiles shyly and shook Daniel's hand.

"Hi, Daniel," you said, eyes flinching between him and Lando. You were full on preparing for anything. Lando's smirk almost had a life of his own at that point.

"Nice to finally meet you, Y/N. I've heard quite a lot things about you!" Daniel opened, life of the party as per usual.

You chuckled. "All good things, I hope!" And with that, Lando stepped behind you and put his arm around you.

"Only the best," he said, leaned closed and inconspicuously started to stroke you hair gently. Oh, he did not just go this low.

It was slow, yet like tidal wave. You stopped breathing for a moment. Your body relaxing, as if you'd just taken the world's best sedatives. The way his hands made you feel was etherial. It was the same sensation the luckier ones experienced when listening to ASMR and the less fortunate ones sometimes called an orgasm. Shivers slowly traveling around your whole body, every part becoming sensitive out of nowhere. You weren't able to look at Daniel, let alone continue speaking. Lando was more than aware of what touching your hair did to you. He'd discovered this trick quite early on. And it was his favorite one.

"So, where are you from?" Daniel attempted at small talk. But how could you possibly give a fuck at that moment. Not that your body would even allowed you to respond. The only thing you were able to take in from the outside world were the soft slow movements Lando's fingers were doing, blocking everything out instanteniously.

Daniel stared at you, waiting. From his perspective, this was a very awkward meeting.

Lando answered for you, with a smirk you did not see, but could feel from the tone of his voice. "You have to excuse her, she is bit shy in front of new people."

You could not give less of a fuck at that moment of what these two were saying. Your lips were starting to shiver from getting so sensitive. You took a short breath and someone who would be standing close and knew you well would know, that what escaped your mouth was not a nervous laugh, but something very close to a moan.

Lando and Daniel were saying words, but none of that was important, while Lando's fingers were working his magic. He would only leave your hair alone once he saw Daniel leaving.

You wanted to be mad at him. But you were still sort of high from all the sensation bomb Lando dropped on you. You slowly turned around to face him, coming down from your own personal nirvana.

You took a deep breath while he watched you without a blink and biting hims smile away.

"You promised," you let out air that got stuck in your lungs somewhere along the way. "You promised you would not do this in public." Your brain was slowly wiring up to normal again.

"I told you I'd punish you for the morning," he said as if it was the most amusing thing ever. "Also, if Daniel is my competition, I'm going to use all the advantage I have."

Lando had a way of looking at you that made you unravel instantaneously and there was no way of stopping it. There was just something about his smile that did it for you. As anyone who is properly in love, you could not imagine somebody being able tor resist that. In your love soaked mind, he was irresistible. To a normal mind, he was probably just a regular guy, but that idea was unfathomable to you.

"I'm pretty sure that after what I just pulled, you will not have to worry about Daniel liking me," you chuckled, having to accept that Lando won this one.

"I would never let my guard down...But yeah, I think this one is pretty safe," he chuckled once more. You kissed his overly proud face and promised to yourself to get back at him later, in the privacy of his bedroom.

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emotionoitme · 1 month

Text

trouble

trouble - coldplay

part 3 of don’t call my name

warnings: angst, hurt + arguing but it’s steamy, drinking and clubbing, some violence (she gets grabbed and threatened but nothing happens), guard dog carmy bark bark, carmy throws hands & brief mention of blood. comfort sex, sappy and sweet but hot, it’s unprotected what else did you expect from me, dirty talk, some drama with claire i’m sorry

wc: 9.0k

a/n: so…i told everyone this was going to be 3 parts when it actually needs 4. i fear i am just too much of a yapper. i love these two and think i needed to do the story justice. so stay tuned for ch4. hehehehe. hope u enjoy!!! (it is going to get angsty)

playlist

carmen berzatto is a shitty communicator.

this we know to be a fact.

it’s just, sometimes when there are a thousand thoughts swarming around his head, it’s easier to not say anything at all. that makes sense, right?

the girl wakes up the next morning to find herself alone. the plush king sized bed almost mocks her with emptiness.

she knows that carmy is a hard worker. a michelin star kitchen doesn’t just run itself. still, it might be nice to get a note, or text, or anything that would reassure her last night wasn’t just some fluke to to him.

the silence of the apartment is almost deafening. she trudges down the stairs and walks to the kitchen, pouring herself what was left in the coffee pot from carmy’s early morning.

she feels lethargic, sore, and a little stung from waking up alone. no text or anything, she thinks.

but there was still time. maybe he was just really busy today. she pushes away the negative thoughts and slaps both of her cheeks lightly, trying to wake herself up. it would be a good day. he would text her or call her when he got a break. and they would talk about it. she puts a smile on her face at the delusion and hops back up the stairs to get dressed for work.

the girl tries to busy herself when she gets there, picking up extra slack from coworkers and bustling around to finish projects. trying to not check her phone.

she goes on lunch break with no text from him.

gets off work at 5 with no text from him.

throws his sheets in the wash and remakes his bed with no text from him.

eats dinner with no text from him.

watches a movie at 9:30 with, you guessed it.

she throws her phone back onto the bed angrily, the false wall of positivity built in her mind beginning to crumble. she’s tired and annoyed, so she shuts off the movie and buries herself in bed, trying to push thoughts of him out of mind so she could sleep.

she tells herself that they can talk tomorrow. but then, tomorrow comes and it’s the same nothing, almost like she didn’t even have a roommate.

three silent days go by until the girl decides she’s had enough, and plans to wait up for him and have a talk. maybe he just wasn’t a texting type of guy, she tries to comfort herself.

she grabs her book and a throw blanket and camps out on the couch, waiting for him to get home.

it’s close to midnight before she hears keys jingling and the lock turning. her heart drops inexplicably but she remains nonchalant and continues reading her book until she hears him take a few steps inside.

she turns her head, watching him talk on the phone as he slides his shoes off. he doesn’t notice her in the dim light of the living room, and his brows are furrowed, hand running through his messy curls.

“yeah. yeah, i’m- i know….sorry again,” a pause, “okay. i’ll see you saturday. bye, claire.”

her eyebrows shoot up at the name, the sinking feeling with in her stomach increasing tenfold. this motherfucker.

carmen makes it halfway into the living room before he notices her on the couch, slightly startling at her presence, mumbling a “shit”

her face feels hot, but not in the good way she had grown accustomed to the past few weeks.

“hey,” he greets softly, eyes looking tired, shoulders slumped.

she just glares at him and goes back to reading her book.

he says her name. she ignores him.

the man lets out a small scoff, stepping closer to the couch, hand on his hip.

“what, you, uh, ignoring me?”

she glances up at him and there’s a small smirk on his face, like he thinks it’s joke or something.

she opens her mouth to say something mean, but stops herself. takes a deep breath. recenters.

she slams her book shut and turns to face him.

“i’m going to bed.”

the man’s small smirk drops, watching as she shoots up from the couch and starts heading towards the stairs. he grabs her wrist to stop her.

“hey,” he says, firmer this time.

she whips around and pulls her arm back.

“what?” she snaps.

his brows furrow at her tone of voice. he pauses for a second, eyes raking down her face, taking in her expression.

“why are you acting like that?” he asks.

the question does nothing but make her feel angrier.

“because you’re being fucking confusing,” the girl exclaims, her throat growing tight.

“how am i confusing?” carmen replies with a surge of annoyance, “you woke me up the other night with…” his eyes dart down her frame, “half your fuckin’ clothes on.” he tries to sound angry, but his voice betrays him a bit. truthfully, it was like his prayers had come true when he opened his eyes to find her straddling him in underwear and a tiny little top that barely kept her chest contained.

“yeah cause i thought you were into me,” she frustratedly sighs, “but you’re just…using me to get over claire.”

the allegation wasn’t rooted in fact. but that’s how the girl felt, and she confuses the two in the moment.

“don’t say that.” he snaps, “that’s not fuckin’ true in the slightest.” carmen had been done with claire for months at this point. if anything, he had been trying to use claire to get over his roommate.

“it’s been three days since we-… and you haven’t said anything,” she sighs, rubbing her forehead, feeling a headache come on.

he knows his, and feels guiltier than she could even imagine. but he also knows she’s leaving in a few short weeks, and doesn’t want to fall any deeper than he already has for her.

“i got busy at work.” he defends. it’s a shitty excuse, but as usual, it’s the first to come to mind.

her eyes brows crease further.

“you have a phone.” she chides.

“i just…i didn’t think about it,” he lies, “i’m sorry.”

she scoffs and shakes her head.

“god, you’re so-,” another sigh, “you know, whatever, carm.” she turns from him and begins to walk up the stairs.

he hates how his eyes glance down to her ass, peaking out from beneath a pair of short shorts.

god he’s a fucking loser, he tells himself.

carmy calls her name again. she ignores him.

the girl slams her bedroom door behind her and throws herself onto her bed. she tries to fight the hot, angry tears that stream down her face, telling herself it doesn’t really bother her. telling herself that he’s just another stupid guy, and she can find better. this does nothing to ease the burning feeling in her chest, though, a pair of soft blue eyes flashing in her mind. thinking of the way he was rough with her while still being gentle, kissing her face and calling her sweet names. thinking of how he held her and wiped her tears and assured her that things would work out.

fucking asshole!

she grabs her duvet and pulls it over her head, wrapping herself tightly and burrowing into the pillow. she tells herself that she won’t make the mistake of giving into him again. wouldn’t ever grace him with her lips or fingers or sweet moans again.

she tells herself that she doesn’t need him. she could easily find someone else that would satisfy that same feral craving she had for carmen.

in fact, tomorrow would be friday, and she hadn’t gone out in a long time. she decides on calling up a friend and making a friday night plan to go out. drink, dance, and prove to herself that there’s better for her out there than carmy.

the girl aggressively rubs her face of tears and shoots up out of bed, grabbing her phone to send the invitation to a girlfriend. her phone pings with a quick response, and the girl confirms her plan for the following night, already envisioning what to wear. the thought of seeing carmy tomorrow night before she goes out makes her stomach churn. the thought of seeing him at all makes it churn, actually.

she tells herself that she only has to stick it out for another month or so. then she would go back to california and things would be normal. no more stupid boys. no more heated touches. no more whimpers being greedily devoured by hungry kisses.

she tells herself that’s what she wants.

it doesn’t feel genuine in the slightest.

the following morning she rummages through her closet and picks out a couple of skimpy options. she studies herself in the mirror, holding up the various items up in front of her nude body, wondering what carmy would think of the outfits. she quickly tries to push the thought out of mind. she doesn’t care what he thinks, she reminds herself. her eyes fixate on the finger-shaped bruises scattered about her hips. she thinks of how they got there.

her day at work seems to go impossibly slow. the girl finds herself thinking of carmen constantly, caught between hoping there would be a text from him when she would check her phone and hoping she would never hear from him again.

her mind frequently flashes to the way he handled her a few nights ago. how he kissed her obsessively. how he held her up once her legs had given out. how he relentlessly plowed into her and called her a pretty girl and told her she was made for him.

the thought simultaneously makes her horny and angry, something that she had never experienced so vividly until now. she wanted to slap his face, but at the same time she wanted to kiss him and grind against him and beg for him again.

it’s entirely confusing.

by the time 10 o clock rolls around, she begins to get ready, meticulously styling her hair and applying her makeup. she opts for a sultry, smokey look, accentuating her eyes with dark shadow and liner, glossing her pouty lips with a clear lacquer. the girl tries to hurry the routine, anxious to make it out the door before carmen gets back.

she strips her clothes off and slips into her club apparel, then decorates her look with rings, bracelets, earrings, and a necklace. as she slides her thigh high boots on, she hears the front door open, then slam closed.

“fuck,” she harshly exhales. looks like she would have to see him after all.

carmy racks his keys onto the hook and steps out of his shoes, taking a deep breath at the relief of being home. it’s not until he notices the light coming from upstairs that the relief is replaced with a sense of anxiety.

he knows he needs to fix things between him and his roommate, if he could even refer to her as just that anymore. he had felt like a jackass all week, but apologies were never really his strong suit. he didn’t even know where to start.

the man empties his pockets out onto the credenza, then begins to make his way into the living room. he stops in his tracks when he hears the click of heels descending the stairs.

as he turns his head and catches sight of her, he fights to stifle a groan.

she comes down clad in a tight top and mini skirt, length of her legs emphasized by black thigh high boots. his eyes rake down her body, admiring the curve of her figure and the appealing fit of the clothes. he wishes that she would dress like that all the time, but he doesn’t tell her that, instead just opting for a casual, albeit slightly strained “hey.”

she looks at him, but doesn’t reply, instead sauntering over to their bar cart and pouring herself a shot. he realizes the top is backless, and clenches his jaw a bit, trying to recenter with a deep breath.

“you, uh…you look nice,” he clears his throat.

she throws back the shot and shivers.

“thanks,” her response comes dryly, walking over to grab her purse, “i’ll be back in a few hours.”

carmen feels his brain stutter, processing what she said, his eyebrows furrowing.

“wait you, uh, you’re going out dressed like that?” he can’t help but feel a bit protective, even if she is pissed off at him. the girl scoffs.

“i can’t really go to the club in sweatpants, carm.”

he rubs a hand over his face, trying to keep calm.

“you could, uh….at least put a fuckin’ jacket on or something though?” he tries to suggest kindly. his tone betrays him.

“yeah?” she turns towards him, “why the fuck do you care?” bite in her tone.

his eyes fall over the multiple hickeys that litter her neck, then flicker over her face, realizing how striking her features look accentuated by dark makeup. she looks angry. a little hurt. he wants to say something soothing.

“cause i-fuck,” hand threading through his hair messily, “because i know how guys think.”

nice. real soothing.

“yeah? n’what do they think?” she challenges.

that anyone would want you. that you look fucking hot wearing those tight little clothes.

carmy opts to not respond so directly, and walks closer to her.

“i just don’t want you to get… hurt.” his tone is firm, jaw set tightly. she lets out a sardonic laugh at this. at the fact that he’s her biggest source of hurt at the moment.

“what, you think it’s funny?” he barks, “you could get fuckin’…picked up or drugged or something.”

she rolls her eyes.

“that’s not gonna happen. i’m going with a friend.” she snatches her purse off the credenza, fumbling through it to make sure she has her id. he takes a few steps closer. until he can smell her sweet perfume.

“well, let me drive you guys then.”

she shakes her head.

“no. we’re getting a cab.” zipping up her purse and hanging it over her shoulder.

“fuck, then call me when you get there. and when you’re leaving.” he snaps a bit, becoming a bit fed up with her attitude.

“not gonna fuckin’ call you, carmy,” her face scrunches up in anger, “i’ll probably end up going home with someone, anyways,” she fibs, locking eyes with him, unintentionally leaning in a bit.

“you what?” he angers, moving even closer to her, their faces mere inches apart.

she can feel the shot she took now, eyes darting down to his lips. fuck his deodorant. the smell of it makes her want to give in.

“‘mgonna find someone tonight,” her tone lower now, lids low, “‘n they’re gonna fuck me better than you ever will.”

he scoffs, blood boiling at her words, shaking his head, eyebrow twitching.

“yeah, uh, that’s not gonna fuckin’ happen.” his hand comes to wrap around her hip, squeezing. his face comes closer, lips nearly ghosting hers.

“yeah?” she challenges, actively fighting to keep from diving in, eyes locked on his lips.

“yeah,” tone firm, “tell your friend you’re staying in tonight.”

she doesn’t know why she feels so turned on. still pissed off, yes, but mostly aroused.

she rolls her eyes and lets out a laugh to hide this, but he can tell. he can always tell by the slight flutter of her eyelids and the way she’ll part her lips. he knows that she likes when he talks to her like that.

the girl channels all of her strength and steps away from him, opening the front door.

“see you tomorrow,” she chimes, walking out. he calls her name as she walks away, but she ignores him. he tells himself he’s too proud to chase after her, but really he wants to do nothing more.

as she makes her way down the hall, his eyes rake down her exposed back, settling on her shapely ass.

this girl was going to drive him fucking crazy.

carmy berzatto (2hrs): you make it there?

missed call from carmy berzatto (1hr)

carmy berzatto (30min): call me if you need a ride home.

the girl shuts off her phone, shoving it back in her purse and strutting to the bar counter. sure, now he cared enough to send a text.

jealous motherfucker.

it had been a girls night out until her friend went home with an ex boyfriend, leaving her all alone at the club. she leans over the counter, pushing her hair over her shoulder. her feet are sore from the boots she had picked out, coupled with an hour or so of nonstop dancing.

the girl had planned to leave as soon as her friend did, but made the mistake of passing through the main room where they were playing 2000s music. she couldn’t just not dance to 2000s.

the bartender works quickly to accommodate the numerous orders. she feels the drink she had been sipping on affecting her, comfortably bathing in the multicolored lights of the club. it was packed with people, and she had been noticing eyes on her all night.

the girl feels a hand on her lower back, and she turns to meet the eyes of a tall man.

“hi,” he says.

“hey,” she softly replies.

he was admittedly handsome, and his muscular stature didn’t hurt to look at either.

“can i buy you a drink?” the man asks.

the girl softly smiles and nods. he raises his hand to flag the bartender. she was planning on getting a water, but since she wasn’t paying for it…

the stranger makes small talk with her, the two having to practically yell into each other’s ear to hear over the bass of the music. jobs, what part of town they live, compliments. not that she really cares about any of it, though she tries to.

as he leans in to ask if she’ll dance with him, he places his hand on her waist. she tries to ignore how it doesn’t feel right.

he’s cute, she tells herself, and i needs to stop thinking about carmy.

the girl takes a long sip of her drink and nods softly, taking his hand and leading him to the dance floor. they squeeze through the crowd of bodies, and she turns to face him, hand on his chest. he places a hand on her lower back, and they begin to move to the beat. she takes another long sip of her drink, closing her eyes, coming closer to the man, swaying her hips. his deodorant doesn’t smell as good as carmen’s does. doesn’t comfort her like his does.

she takes another sip, and she circles around, moving her hips, facing away from the man. the music resonates through the whole building, lights flash and change color, making her movements feel dreamlike. he places his hands on her hips.

she wishes that she liked how it felt.

the man presses his hips into her backside. she imagines it’s carmen, and the thought makes her bite down onto her lip. her head falls back against his chest. she thinks of her roommate’s strong arms. his tattoos. the way his face scrunched up when he fully engulfed himself in her. the girl lets out a breath. her skin feels hot and sticky in the muggy club air. she takes another long sip of alcohol, feeling lips on her neck. they feel strange and unfamiliar. it doesn’t set off that tingling sensation in her lower stomach. she groans out of frustration.

“mmm you like that don’t you, pretty girl?” the man slurs into her ear.

the name makes her heart drop, and all of the sudden she feels like she needs to throw up. she shoves the stranger’s hands away and stumbles forward, pushing her way out of the crowd. the floor feels like it’s tilting on an axis as she cringes at the feeling of other sweaty bodies touching her. she gets shoved into by a big group and loses her drink.

it’s suddenly hard to breathe. the girl feels her throat tighten, her chest burning, wiping hot tears away. she fights and pushes and weaves through the crowd until she finally breaks free, making a beeline for the glowing red exit sign. the girl shoves the door open, almost tripping over the frame, and stumbles out into the cold night.

the frigid air helps alleviate some of her nausea, skin rising in goosebumps. she trudges along the brick wall and leans her back against it, focusing on taking deep breaths. her hands run through her messy hair, pushing it out of her face, closing her eyes, trying to stop the steady flow of tears.

this night was supposed to be fun, but all she wanted to do was go home and sleep this booze off. all she wanted was carmen.

her hands fumble through her purse, grabbing her phone. she drops it, muttering a “shit,” and crouches down to pick it up. she squints her eyes at the light of the display, struggling to navigate to the uber app. she enters her address, cursing internally when she sees the friday night surge prices. instead, she exits uber and finds her contacts, hovering over the number of a cab company. her eyes glance towards carmen's contact, right below.

she doesn’t want to call him. he was being an asshole, and she hates how easily he was able to get under her skin. so she dials the contact for the cab, listening to the line ring. and ring. and ring. almost infinitely, then a automated voice of “your call cannot be completed.”

“fuck,” she curses, terminating the call.

her eyes fixate on his name, pausing and contemplating.

she rolls her eyes and dials it. the line rings twice and gets picked up with a raspy greeting and a “y’okay?”

she stays silent for a second, not sure what to say. he says her name.

“did you know that you are-” she hiccups, “s-so mean?” it’s the only thing that comes to mind.

“are you drunk?” he asks.

“no. m’not” she argues, wiping a stray tear.

“you sound drunk,” he retorts, “where are you? i’m coming to get you.”

“you’re so fucking…rude. ‘nyou think you can just do whatever you want because you’re so-” hiccup, “hot… and big…you irritate me, carm,” she slurs into the line. she opens her mouth to say more, but he cuts her off by saying her name sternly.

“you at prysm? tunnel?”

“yeah. that one.” she hiccups again.

“tunnel? okay, stay right there. i’m getting in my car now.”

“ok but i’m still mad at you,” she murmurs, leaning against the cool brick. he scoffs, and starts saying something about her bad attitude, but she cuts him off by hanging up, harshly exhaling and closing her eyes tightly. the tears continue falling, so she just tries to focus on her breathing.

a cool breeze causes her to stiffen, wrapping her arms around herself, shivering. it’s uncomfortable, but grounding. her head stops spinning so much as she begins to breathe deeply. the tears come to a steady stop, but the aching in her chest doesn’t. she wishes carmen would hold her and kiss her head.

around fifteen minutes pass before she hears the back door of the club open. the girl keeps her eyes shut, hoping whoever it was wouldn’t bother her. though it seems she’s not so lucky tonight, unfortunately.

“hey, you,” a deep voice says. she snaps her eyes open to find the same tall man she was dancing with earlier standing in front of her.

she just stares at him silently, crossing her arms in front of her to help provide some modesty.

“listen, i think we get along well. and you’re really hot,” he explains drunkenly, “why don’t i help you get home?”

she feels icked out, trying to refrain from rolling her eyes.

“m’not interested, sorry. i have someone coming to pick me up.”

the man scoffs.

“you were plenty interested earlier when i bought you a drink,” taking a step closer to her, “c’mon. don’t be a tease.” he has a smirk on his face. she feels her heart begin to pound against her chest.

carmy was right, it was a mistake to come out. she tries to take a step away from him, blocked by the hard brick wall.

“seriously, i’m not interested,” she tries to sound assertive, “my boyfriend will be here any second so just leave me alone.” she hopes he can’t read through her lie.

“your boyfriend?” he asks, smirk turning into a grin, “you’re a naughty girl, aren’t you? someone should fucking straighten you out.”

her heart drops to her stomach, and she feels sick all over again. she steps forward to shove past him, and he grabs her waist, slamming her back into the wall.

“don’t fucking touch me!” she yells, grabbing his wrists and digging her nails in. he doesn’t let go. tears begin to stream down her face, heart hammering against her ribcage. she sees headlights from down the street and prays that it’s carmen, continuing to struggle against the man.

the car speeds up to the curb and jerks to a stop, door flying open. she shuts her eyes tightly and digs her nails in hard enough to draw blood, giving a final attempt at trying to get his hands off of her.

the girl is suddenly released as the man is jerked backwards by his shoulder. her eyes snap open and graciously land on the person she’s been wanting to see the most.

everything happens so fast—watching in a haze as carmen practically decks the guy in the face, sending the stranger stumbling back, gripping a bloody nose.

“you muverfuckr!” he slurs, words muffled by a dripping hand, lunging forward again. carmy shuffles back, then throws another jab square in the face. the man falls backwards onto the ground, sitting on the concrete, looking entirely disoriented. the girl gasps, feeling partially sobered by the scene.

she watches as the stranger’s blood drips onto the pavement, then darts her gaze over to carmen. his eyes look crazed, jaw tightly locked. he begins to stalk towards the man, clenching his fists that were spotted with red.

the girl reaches out and grabs his arm. he turns to look at her and his features immediately soften, taking in her tear-soaked cheeks and swollen lips. without thinking, he grabs her arm and pulls her into a tight embrace, arms wrapping around her in a protective bear hug. she clings to his shirt, and cries. he kisses the top of her head.

he smells so good. smells so safe.

“s’okay. i got you,” he soothes, “you’re okay.” the man says this as a reassurance to himself as well, rubbing her back, feeling his throat tighten and eyes water a bit.

the stranger lay flat on his back now, clutching his bleeding nose, mumbling incoherently.

carmen pulls back from the embrace, but keeps an arm wrapped tightly around her, ushering her to the car. she stumbles a bit, holding onto him securely. she wishes the tears would stop, but they don’t. she feels so scared. so relieved. so fucking grateful.

he gets her into the car, shutting the door and walking around to the driver’s side. she doesn’t want to look at him when he gets in, so she hides her face in her hand, elbow leaning on the arm rest. he doesn’t say anything for the duration of the drive home either.

she feels embarrassed, tired, and still a little mad at carmy. the whole reason she had wanted to go out and meet guys in the first place was because of his stupid situationship with claire. it was like it made her go into defense mode.

they had been driving for about 5 minutes, before she feels a dull throbbing in her head, stomach growling, alcohol in her system making her crave greasy nasty salty food.

she raises her head from her hand, looking at carmen. his eyebrows were knit together tightly, jaw clenched. she leans her head against the headrest as she stares at him lovingly. she loves how protective he gets over her. how strong he is. how blindingly handsome.

but she’s still mad, of course.

he catches her gazing at him in his periphery. he looks over, features softening as he catches her eyes momentarily.

“what’s up?” he asks, voice low.

she just looks at him. her lip pouts a bit.

“you hungry?” comes his question, perfectly timed.

she allows a soft smile to grace her lips at the accuracy of his guess.

“mmhm,” she nods, “a burger sounds really good right now. and french fries.”

he lets out a quiet chuckle, nodding his head, glancing at her again.

“let’s get you a burger and french fries, then.”

he turns his signal on and moves to make a quick left, pulling into a drive-thru after a few minutes.

they sit in line waiting for the order to be cooked. she glances over at his face. she wants to kiss him, a little.

“d’yknow what the ultimate hangover food is?” she asks softly.

he turns to face her, eyebrows raised in question, a look of amusement on his face.

“an all american breakfast,” she murmurs with a smile.

“yeah?” he asks, “like…pancakes?”

she nods, biting her lip with a smile. he lets out a soft laugh at this.

“and bacon and eggs. and hash browns. fuck,” her eyes are closed, like she’s imagining it in front of her. this makes the man laugh a bit harder, hand coming to smooth over his face.

“good answer,” he tells her once he stops smiling as much.

“what’s yours?” she asks, gazing at him a bit longingly.

“my what?”

“your hangover cure food.”

“uh, probably…saltines?”.

the girl lets out a laugh.

“the alcohol upsets my stomach,” he admits.

she laughs harder, burying her face in her hands.

“you are so cute,” she amuses.

he fights the heat that rushes to his face when she says this, and they pull forward to the pick up window.

the girl takes her first bite into the greasy burger that carmen insists on paying for, and it makes her feel more human than she has all night.

carmy parks the car in his assigned lot, then gets out to assist his roommate out of the car. the food helped her feel much more grounded, but she still has to cling onto his arm to be able to walk straight through the building.

neither of them say anything. this lasts until they get back to their unit, and carmy locks the door behind them. he watches as the girl stumbles out of her shoes and crashes onto the couch. she throws an arm over her eyes and tries to push away the nausea that comes with laying down.

“thank you,” she murmurs into her arm after a moment.

“mhm,” he responds, “told you to call me when you needed a ride, though,” shrugging off his jacket.

“i did,” she argues.

“no, you called me… way after you needed one. and you stood outside waiting for me,” his tone grows harsher.

if she wasn’t so nauseous, she’d roll her eyes.

“i was trying to get away from all the guys that were trying to take me home,” she retorts. she means it to be teasing, but it’s clear he doesn’t take it that way by the peak she steals through her arms.

“y’know, you-,” he scoffs, “i’m glad you think it’s fuckin’ funny because i-fuck…i was worried about you” he throws his keys onto the table, feeling angry, feeling scared.

she throws her other arm over her face. her cheeks are hot with embarrassment. her throat suddenly feels tight at his words, like she’s going to cry again. she doesn’t say anything out of fear of her voice breaking.

carmy chides her name, stalking over to the couch. he stands over her, expectantly waiting for a response, jaw clenching with annoyance. he nudges her arm. she moves it, revealing her tired bloodshot eyes.

“can we not do this tonight?” she begs hoarsely, “m’so drunk.”

“you fucking scared me,” he exclaims, grabbing his hair, “what would’ve happened if i didn’t get there in time, huh?”

“i know,” she sobs, tears now freely flowing, hiding her face in her arms again.

his heart breaks a bit, watching her cry like that. but he feels so angry that she put herself at risk like that.

“you-” he stops. takes a deep breath to recenter. “you’re right. let’s not do this tonight.”

she peaks at him through her arms, feeling completely pathetic. she watches him turn on the small lamp by the couch. he drapes a throw blanket over her before turning to walk upstairs.

tears continue inexplicably trailing down her cheeks, as her deep breathing begins to lul her into sleep.

an hour passes.

she shifts to try and get comfy to no avail.

30 more minutes.

everything was so uncomfortable.

she sits up quickly and shoots off the couch, beelining for the stairs, desperate to get the crunchy makeup and scratchy clothes off.

she falls up the stairs in her sleepy scramble, knocking against the wall loudly. slowly stands up, holds onto the rail, and exhales before continuing to ascend much more carefully.

as she walks down the hallway, she unashamedly begins to strip out of her clothing, leaving a trail that leads to the bathroom, telling herself she would take care of it later. she feels sick and lethargic, needing a shower immediately.

the girl leaves the bathroom light off as she draws a cold shower and steps in right away, drenching herself in the frigid water. she tenses, letting out a sharp exhale, feeling almost immediately soothed.

it’s as if the water washes away everything bad from the night. she meditatively goes through her routine, cleaning herself. cleaning away everything that happened tonight. cleaning away the man who touched her on the dancefloor, outside of the club.

the shame and embarrassment that begins to seep in as the alcohol wears off doesn’t wash away as easily. she needs to apologize, she knows that.

the girl dries herself off and wraps her hair in a towel as she walks back to her room, feeling more of a pep in her step following the refreshing shower. she bends down to pick up the strung out clothing she left behind, feeling like she was going crazy because her underwear was nowhere to be found. it would just have to wait until tomorrow, she supposes.

she’s moisturized and laying in bed, trying to fall asleep. tossing and turning. taking a deep breath. softening her face, muscles. thinking of nice things.

drifting off. mind flashing back to the man grabbing her and slamming her against the brick wall. thinking of what would’ve happened had carmy not come to her rescue.

her eyes snap open. she sharply inhales and sits up, hanging her legs over the side of the bed. it was going to be impossible to get sleep like this, heart beating way too fast to try and relax.

she just wants to feel safe.

without a second thought, she stands and begins walking to carmy’s room.

she knows he’s pissed off at her. knows he’ll probably tell her to get out. even so, she’s so desperate to get some sleep. so desperate to ease the anxiety that had been festering inside of her all night.

his door is closed, and she hesitates for a moment before twisting the knob and slipping inside.

it’s dark—the curtains drawn when they usually aren’t. he lay shirtless on his side, facing away from the door, clutching a pillow in his arms.

the girl peels back his sheets and slowly slips into bed, resting her head on the soft pillow. she stays there for a moment before scooting closer and laying her face against his back. he’s so warm, and his skin smells safe. her eyes fall shut. she feels him shift.

carmen wakes up unexpectedly to the feeling of warmth behind him. he knows it’s her without having to look. when she had noisily stumbled upstairs and into the shower, he went to go check on her—almost knocked on the bathroom door, but refrained once he heard soft cries from within.

he feels her face nuzzle into his back, and he reaches his arm back behind him, wanting to feel where she lay. he touches her hip.

“hi,” she greets softly.

“hey,” he returns, voice raspy, “y’can’t sleep?”

she scoots closer to him, hand splaying over his back.

“just a little… freaked out still…” she whispers. her tone wobbles.

he shifts at this, and turns around to face her silently. in the low light she can make out the worried furrow of his brows.

she feels guilty for being the subject of his worry.

“i’m sorry,” the girl confesses, biting back tears.

carmen’s brows crease further at her apology, immediately wrapping an arm around her and pulling her into his chest. she tucks her face into his neck, shutting her eyes tightly, smelling his skin.

“y’got nothing to be sorry for,” he plants a kiss atop her head, “wasn’t your fault.”

“it was my fault,” her voice breaks, “should’ve listened to you,” her arms come around his neck, and she presses her body flush with his.

“it wasn’t,” he asserts, “that guy was a fuckin’ creep.” his tone is hushed. his arms wrap around her as if he’s scared of losing her.

“are you still mad at me?” she asks. her breath tickles his neck.

“i wasn’t mad,” he admits, “just scared.”

“me too,” matching his hushed tone. “thank you carm,” she whispers, pressing a kiss below his ear, “feel so safe with you.” she shuffles closer, pelvis pressing against his.

“you are,” he buries his nose in her hair, “always.” hiking her leg over his hip to bring her closer.

the girl kisses his neck again. and again. pulls him in closer. his smell is completely addicting, and with the angle of her leg she can feel his erection growing against her core. she hopes he can’t feel the wetness that begins to form beneath her shorts.

his big palm spreads over her ass and squeezes, desperate to hold every inch of her.

the girl deeply exhales, bothered by how easily he’s able to rouse her.

the man harshly exhales at the repeated feeling of her bites and licks and kisses, holding onto her with an urgent desperation. trying to wrap around her as if he were keeping her from the world.

the room becomes hot, and the two shuffle the duvet off.

carmen calls her name, trying to break her attention. he wants to apologize. wants to confess his shortcomings. wants to look in her big eyes and tell her he’s not enough and never will be. but she ignores his beckon and continues enthusiastically biting and sucking and kissing, hand pressing against his chest.

he forces his eyes to stay open, weight of his bottled apology heavy on his tongue.

“hey,” he tries again, voice strained from the pleasure.

“can you put it in?” she breathes into his neck.

“fuck,” he groans, surprised by her forward request, feeling himself pulse against her wetness.

“please,” she whines, hiking her leg further up onto his hip, trailing her kisses along his jaw, up to his cheek.

he squeezes her ass again, fingers slipping under the fabric of her tiny shorts. her skin was so soft. so hot with arousal.

“let me play with you,” he strains, “get you ready f’me.”

the girl makes a sound of protest, kissing his face more, hand coming to his neck.

“m’ready,” she whispers earnestly “wanna feel you so bad,” another kiss, “please, carm.”

he lets out a strained breath and removes his hand from her ass, shoving his boxers down just enough to free his erection. she moves her thigh higher up his hip, and carmen slips his fingers beneath the fabric covering her core, hastily pulling it to the side.

“yeah,” she exhales desperately, edge of her lips touching his, trying to watch him press his cock into her opening.

carmen pushes forward, sinking into her tightness. he lets out a groan at the way her wet heat engulfs him. the girl releases a sound of appreciation, her nails indenting the skin of his shoulder.

he takes a deep breath and begins slowly rocking his hips, turning his face to catch her lips in a hungry kiss. he greedily swallows her sweet noises, catching the edge of her shirt and bunching it up over her chest, exposing her breasts.

“please,” she breaks the kiss to plead, not really even knowing what she was asking for.

“i know, baby” he groans in between kisses, “gonna take care of you.” rolling his hips, hiking her leg further up his hip to bury himself to the hilt.

she wants to cry at how good it feels, eyes scrunched shut and mouth falling open in pleasure, releasing her first breathy moan.

carmy swears he could cum at the sound of it, hand grabbing her ass again, pulling her impossibly closer. his forehead comes to hers and he begins slowly thrusting into her, completely drunk off of her. her smell, her wetness, her whimpers.

“y’so fuckin’ cute,” he growls, “can’t get enough of you.” his admission sends a fluttering sensation throughout her chest, arching further into his touch, beginning to hungrily rock her hips to try and match his thrusts.

the man grabs her hip, holding her still.

“slow down,” he commands softly, catching her lips in a deep kiss, continuing to gently thrust into her.

she complies, savoring the sweet, lazy rocking motion as he holds her tightly. it feels far more intimate than what she’s ever experienced with him, even though the two weren’t even fully naked. it was needy and frenetic, yet slow and gentle.

carmen buries himself deeper, beginning to thrust up into her at an angle. he kisses her with frenzy, tongue swirling around hers, swallowing each and every noise she makes. the room grows incredibly hot, their skin sticky, each trying to apologize to the other using their bodies.

carmy snaps his hips forward, and the girl releases from his lips with a loud cry. her nails dig into his shoulder. it’s so good she feels like crying again.

“y’such a pretty fuckin’ girl,” he growls, “love how you feel, y’know that?”

her droopy eyes meet his. she loves the way it sounds from his mouth. loves everything he does.

“i’m all yours carm,” she gasps, savoring the deep, satiating feeling of his thick cock.

“yeah?” he asks breathily, “all mine?” grabbing her ass, pulling her in time with his thrusts.

“y-yeah,” she cries, eyes tightly shut, “yours. i love-ah,” she’s interrupted by a punctuated thrust, losing her words, head falling back, breathing heavily. he feels so good.

“what d’you love?” he asks, leaning forward to kiss her exposed neck, “huh?”

“love y-how you make me feel,” she cries.

his chest flutters. he bites and kisses the skin of her neck. he wishes she would’ve said something different.

“what else, hm?” a kiss, thrusts speeding up, “what else d’you love?”

“love-fuck, right there,” she whimpers, “i love-ah,” trailing off as if she can’t even think straight.

carmy smiles into her neck, giving her skin a final bruise before pulling away to catch her lips.

“tell me,” he growls, grabbing the side of her thigh and continuing to upwards.

her eyes fill with tears. she’s scared to say it.

“i-,” an gasp, “i love you, carm.” she catches his gaze as she says it, and watches how his expression softens. how deeply he looks at her. the man dives into her lips again, kissing her with a ferocity she had yet to ever receive, groaning into her mouth.

“fuckin’ made for me,” he growls in between kisses, “love everything about you,” pulling her leg further up, “perfect fuckin’ girl.”

he rolls over her and lifts her hips up, continuing to thrust into her.

the girl wraps her legs around his back accommodatingly, dizzy from his words and the pleasure. she slips her fingers down to circle her swollen clit, feeling as if she teters right on the edge of climax, overcome with a white hot pleasure.

“love you,” she cries, nails scratching down his back, “iloveyouiloveyouiloveyou m’gonna cum” she babbles. he smiles down at her, almost overwhelmed by a feral need to claim her.

the man deliberates throwing caution to the wind and cumming inside of her. he knows she wouldn’t mind. he rationalizes the logistics of making her a mom in his frenetic state, drinking in the sight of her flushed cheeks, her wet eyes, her open mouth. he decides he’s in love with her. decides he wants her to be his forever. he watches her cum. watches her eyes roll back and her body start shaking. listens to the sweet harmonic moans that spill from her lips.

“there y’go,” he coaxes, “such a good girl,” kissing her swollen lips, “fuckin’ in love with you,” heightening the pace of his thrusts, feeling himself approach the brink of orgasm. he seriously considers cumming inside of her, telling himself he would if she asked. he looks at the girl for confirmation, but she’s too far gone. he begrudgingly pulls out, shooting thick ropes of cum onto her stomach with a groan, missing her warmth as soon as he leaves.

carmy rolls off of her, grabbing her face and pressing a firm kiss onto her cheek, collapsing on the bed for a moment. he feels spent.

the girl pants, trying to catch her breath. carmen nuzzles into her neck, wrapping around her tightly, kissing her tenderly. they bask in the afterglow, cherishing the presence of each other, an encompassing silence following the heavy words exchanged.

she’s the first to speak. well, complain.

“there’s….cum all over my stomach.” she rasps. he smiles into her neck.

“shower?”

quiet, for a moment.

“i can’t move.”

he kisses her bruised skin with a lazy smirk and sits up to grab her a washcloth.

when the girl wakes up alone the next morning, her heart drops a bit, finding the bed next to her empty once again. she shuts her eyes immediately, hoping to be swept away by sleep so she could postpone the disappointment.

that is, until she hears noises from the kitchen downstairs. and smells the bacon.

the girl groggily pushes herself up out of bed, stalking down the hallway. she gets halfway to the stairs before realizing she’s completely naked, stopping in her tracks, turning to carmy’s open door, eyes falling on a t-shirt on the ground. she quickly grabs it and slips it over her head, then continues to curiously make her way downstairs. soft music comes from the speaker in the kitchen, and she slowly descends the stairs to find carmy deftly working over the stove. the whole house smells incredible.

she slips behind him to get to the coffee pot, sliding her hand along his back as she passes.

the man turns his head.

“hey,” he watches as she retrieves a mug from the cabinet, graciously taking in the sight of her wearing his shirt.

“good morning,” she smiles, “smells so good in here.”

as she stretches to get the mug, the hem of the shirt lifts ever so slightly over the curve of her ass. he clears his throat.

“nice shirt,” carmy says, turning back to tend to the bacon.

she lets out a soft giggle, pouring her coffee.

“yeah?” taking a sip and leaning against the counter, “figured it would be better than coming down naked.”

his brain stutters for a moment. he turns to catch the smirk on her face.

“i, uh…. i dunno about that,” he responds, small smile on his face. she shoves his arm playfully and he breaks into a grin.

“no work this morning?” she asks, grateful for the unusual saturday morning presence.

“no, i, uh…m’taking a personal day,” he replies, turning the heat of the stove off, “had some stuff i needed to get done.”

“good,” she replies with a nod, “you deserve a day off. i didn’t take you for much of a breakfast guy, though” she comments, tilting her head slightly.

“i’m not, really,” he plates the bacon over a paper towel, “but i, uh…thought some all american might help with your hangover.”

she feels a pang in her chest, eyes glancing over the assortment of pancakes, eggs, hash browns, and bacon. everything she had told him last night.

“carm,” she whines, “that is so kind. you didn’t have to all of this for me.”

the food looked delectable, plated beautifully and piping hot.

“i wanted to.” he begins to pick up the plates.

she puts her coffee down and helps him set the table.

when she takes the first bite of her bacon and eggs she practically moans at the taste.

“fuck,” she locks eyes with him.

“yeah?” he watches her with amusement.

“yeah,” she breathes, nodding, “that’s…wow.”

he can’t help but grin, hand coming to rub over his face.

“good?”

“yeah.” she nods, “really fucking good.”

he feels his skin heat at the way she says it, having no idea why watching her enjoy his food was so deeply satisfying (and maybe just a little arousing).

“try the pancakes,” he tells her, pushing the syrup closer to her. she nods enthusiastically, slathering the pancakes the maple syrup and taking a big bite.

the girl groans, and her head falls into her hand, savoring the taste. she doesn’t think she’s ever had pancakes so good.

“i could kiss you right now,” she looks back up at him. he lets out a breath of amusement and his cheeks warm with her praise.

“i’m glad you like it.”

“no, seriously, i’m…going to kiss you.” she tells him, putting a hand on the table and leaning over it. she grabs his shirt and pulls him in, kissing him firmly.

the man lets out a soft groan of surprise, enthusiastically reciprocating. she tastes like maple syrup.

when the girl pulls back, he grabs her face and pulls her back in, wanting another sweet taste. it’s better than any pancakes he’s ever made.

carmen loosens his grip on her face and she slowly pulls away, pressing a last kiss to his lips before sitting back down. she gives him a mischievous smile and continues eating her breakfast.

“go sit down,” she tells him, taking the pan from him, “you already cooked, let me clean up.”

“we can do it together,” he compromises, “it’ll be faster.”

she shakes her head, making a pile of dishes in the sink and turning on the hot water.

“no. go sit down and relax,” she demands, beginning to scrub.

she feels arms wrap around her waist, feels lips on her neck.

“so bossy,” he chides in between kisses, pressing his hips against her backside. she lets out a slow breath, leaning into his touch. her eyes flutter as she feels his hand creep under her shirt, splaying over her stomach. she’s not wearing anything besides his oversized shirt, and her skin suddenly feels hot from his touch. she arches into him slightly, and he bites her neck.

it feels very domestic, fighting over who would clean up the kitchen. it feels domestic wearing his shirt and being pressed up against the counter by him, skin littered with his bruises, lips intertwined with his name.

carmy begins to lift the borrowed shirt up, kisses trailing up to her ear, hand coming to squeeze her breast.

the girl releases a soft noise, completely distracted by her task of washing dishes. her head falls back against his shoulder, and she leans into his touch.

carmen thinks of telling her to strip the shirt off. thinks of hoisting her up onto the counter and eating her out until she cums. touching her until she cries.

he pushes the shirt up further.

knock knock knock

they both startle and look to the front door. carmen checks the time, and his heart drops a bit.

he pulls away from the girl and runs a hand through his curls.

“who is it?” she asks him, observing his look of stress.

“it’s, uh….fuck. just wait right here, okay?” his hands fall from his hips and he stalks to the closet by the front door, pulling out a scarf she doesn’t recognize.

he opens the door halfway, and she hears a familiar woman’s voice greeting him.

her face gets hot. her chest feels tight.

“claire,” he greets quietly, thrusting the scarf forward, “here.”

“ugh, thank you, carmy. i’m so forgetful sometimes.”

“no problem. i should, uh-”

“it smells good in there,” claire comments, peaking in.

carmen steps back, eyes darting over to his roommate. she stands with her arms crossed, leaning against the counter, staring at him.

“i’m uh…cooking breakfast,” he turns back to claire, “so i should probably get back to that. i’ll see yo-”

“-i was thinking we could talk?” she cuts him off, “can i come in?”

“i don’t know if that’s…,” carmen hesitates. he glances to his roommate to find her walking behind him towards the stairs.

claire’s eyes follow the girl, taking in her attire. carmy watches her expression slightly falter.

his roommate stalks up the stairs. was walking behind him in plain sight a little petty? maybe. but she’s sick of carmy never saying exactly what he means. she undoes the hair tie holding together her messy updo, walking to her room.

she quickly grabs a change of clothes and rushes into to the bathroom to shower, feeling the overwhelming need to leave the apartment.

the front door slams shut, and she hears his steps ascend the stairs.

#carmen berzatto x reader #carmy x reader #carmy berzatto #carmy berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto smut #carmy berzatto imagine #the bear imagine

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itstheghostofmypast · 2 months

Text

Awake - (Hyung Line)

separate members Ateez x (F)Reader

Summary: You went to sleep after a HUGE (not really) fight, only, when you went to sleep you were alone, not in the comforting arms of your lover.

Genre: Hurt + Comfort

Rating: PG-17

Warnings: Language

Word Count: 4.2k

Est.Read Time: 21 min

Networks: @cromernet @k-labels @illusionnet

Banner: @cafekitsune

Maknae Line: Here

A/N: A special thank you to my one and only @edenesth , for helping me out with this- I swear for the life in me Yeosang still confuses me and Hwa seems to sweet to argue with (yeah i know that aint true) .I'll be updating my requests soon and uploading the next chapter of meow soon, too!

Kim Hongjoong

Waking up next to Hongjoong was as rare as going to bed with him. Considering he'd come to bed at an ungodly hour, unlike you, and leave at an ungodly hour, waking up way before you did- in theory, however, the man barely slept four hours. Then there were times when he'd choose to stay at the studio or the dorm. So often, you'd receive a text about his location and that was it- and for so long it was okay- until it wasn't.

There's no real reason or premise behind how it started, but all she remembers is that he had come home in the middle of the night, and ironically she had been watching a film at the time. Now, the reaction could've been sweet, could've been filled with love, but the words had left her sooner than she could stop them,

"You know, you should really take care of yourself too."

That was all it took for him to stare at her blankly before turning around and slamming the door shut behind him, leaving her wincing in regret on the couch, the same very couch she had cried on, lying across its expanse, trying to get in touch with him through text or call, only for her tears to dry up and eyes to close, falling asleep on the couch.

What you did not expect was to wake up in your bed, on your back blinking up at the ceiling, shades of golden seeping through the cracks of the curtains, illuminating the dancing specs across the room. With a heavy sigh you turned your head to glance at the usual empty side when you were greeted by an unusual sight. The same blonde man you had cried your heart out for last night was laying there, knocked out cold, lips slightly parted, hands folded on his belly as he lay on his back- Hongjoong was one weird dude. With a sigh you turn to lay on your side, staring at him, taking in his tired features, the dark circles under his eyes, his chapped lips, the way his brows were slightly furrowed. God, you definitely loved an idiot.

Taking a few more minutes, you thought to yourself, before letting out a sigh, at least he was home now, at least he was resting. With that in mind, you slowly pushed yourself up, sitting up and rubbing your face, trying to erase the remnant traces of sleep. You were about to slip out of bed when something tugged at your shirt, causing you to turn to lock eyes with your sleepy love, his gaze filled with some form of remorse and guilt.

“Don't…go.” his hoarse voice rasped across the silent room, her shoulder slumped at the fatigue in his tone, before shaking her head and moving closer to him, letting him pull her closer, enough for her to rest her head against his shoulder, a hand placed on his heart, appreciating the steady beat- his own rhythm for her.

“I’m sorry…”

“You should be.” she mumbled, turning to bury her face in the crook of his neck, feeling him draw her closer, the arm around her waist tightening, as if he were afraid that she’d disappear. Not a word was exchanged after that, her lips would often gently graze against his warm skin, curling into a small smile when she’d hear him let out a sigh, her leg now hooked around his, basically tangled around him. He never pushed her away or told her to stop, even when her hand slipped into his shirt, fingers tracing his warm skin, trying to feel him against her, as if she were trying to become one with him. He may not prefer skinship or let anyone else touch him, but she was the exception, she held the key to his heart, to his soul, giving her the free access of a more compliant and vulnerable Hongjoong, who was no longer a captain, but a boy who loved music, and she was but his muse, his inspiration, the rhythm his heart would dance to.

Park Seonghwa

Did she mean to forget it? No. Did she forget it? Yes. Was she sorry about it? Yes. But was she going to accept his berating and taunting? Not at all. She knew he was tired and exhausted, she knew being an idol wasn’t easy, it was a job accompanied with constant stress and fatigue- you knew what you were getting yourself into, but so did he. He knew you were a full eight to six job, a busy job, a hectic job, and that wasn’t accompanied with a driver or a manager or any other kind of comfort, no you had no one to lean on when it came to someone messing up and expecting you to clean up after them.

So, is it your fault that you came home all tired and exhausted to the bone, only to flop down on the couch, next to your boyfriend- who by the way did not even bother greeting you- and expect him to show you some compassion? Apparently, it was. Your head lay on the backrest of the couch, the TV acting like a white noise as your turned your head, eyes drowsy and tired to look at the magnificent being fate had paired you up with, someone so loving and caring, so endearing and tender, so pretty and-

“Did you vacuum today?”

“What?” sitting up properly she looked at the not so loving man, god, how could someone so pretty be so weird sometimes- oh shit. Shaking your head you cleared your throat, “Well umm…I know…I told you I’d do it today since I had to go later to work but I…kinda forgot? Plus you did clean yesterday so the house is pretty clean?” trailing off you averted your gaze, trying not to meet eyes with the man who looked borderline distraught and disappointed.

“Tch…this is why your mom got mad at you last week.” he mumbled and stood up, walking away, perhaps to the kitchen to get the stupid vacuum cleaner- no, he did not just bring that up! You sat there, too stunned to react, what may have seemed like a minute was perhaps more, especially when you felt something nudge at your feet, causing you to look up wide eyed at the source of hurt, staring up at him with blurry eyes.

Crying?

His eyes widened at the realisation, she had not been sitting there all stubborn while he was vacuuming, no, she was sitting there, crying, too shocked to even notice she was crying- the hell did he just do? He felt his fingers twitch, tongue poking out to lick his lower lip, an apology and more at the tip of his tongue, but before he could say anything, you were gone, the bedroom door slamming shut causing him to jerk back into his senses, running after you, trying to open the door, only to find it locked.

“Angel? Open- I- I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that!” he called out, all anger and dominance, instantly flushed out of his being, wanting nothing more than to cradle her in his embrace, trying to hold onto her crumbling pieces. He mentally cursed himself, knowing damn well how your mother’s visit last week ended poorly, an evening that was going great, until his future mother in law found out that he did most of the cleaning, which led you to receive an earful about the duties of a true, good wife.

You don’t remember much of what happened after, you had showered, cried during the shower, changed into something comfortable and snuggled into bed, ignoring the persistent knocking and apologies that flooded the room. Were you being childish? No. You could’ve talked it out with him, but you really didn’t want to and you really didn’t care enough right now to morph an understanding mood.

What you didn’t understand was why you weren’t able to move- oh. Trying to pry his arms off you, you huffed out frustrated and still upset, only for him to mumble something in your hair, pulling you closer as his grip tightened on you, pushing his leg between yours, tangling you in his long limbs. His hair fell of his face, the tips of his silky locks caressing your forehead, tickling your skin.

“Let go.” you mumbled only to hear him whine, about to ask him to ‘get lost’ until you heard a sniffle, followed by a broken, “I-I’m s-sorry.” Honestly, a part of you didn’t want to give in, but when you heard the way he whined, calling out your name like you were a million miles away, your heart clenched at the tone, hand gently squeezing one of the two that were tightly clamped around you.

“Hwa…” you sighed, leaning back a bit, feeling his lips press against your neck, ghosting up to your ear, whispering unending apologies, before squeezing you closer.

“Its…not fine but…please don’t…say that again.” she sighed, closing her eyes at the feeling of his soothing touches, letting his plump lips press against the shell of her ear before he flipped them over, with him hovering above her, keeping himself steady with his forearms pressing into the pillow on either sides of her head, staring down at her with puffy eyes and a pink nose, “I won’t…I’m sorry.”

You smiled up at him, placing a hand on his cheek, adoring the way he instantly nuzzled against it, before slowly bringing him down to meet your lips.

“Then make up for it.”

Jeong Yunho

Shit. Shit. Shit. SHIT!

Your blood ran cold, staring at what you had just done, oh my god, it was all over now, you were doomed- you had the worst luck known to man! You were also probably the dumbest person to exist- oh my god. The sound of the controller being placed on the table had you freeze up, but it was the loud exhale that had you flinching like a small kitten, ever so slowly turning your head to the source, trailing your eyes off the floor to lock with an unreadable pair.

“Babe.”

“Yes…Yuyu?” meekly responding, your grip tightened on the mop, trying not to run away, knowing that would only upset him even more. Okay, granted, he had told her as soon as he had come home that he was not in a great mood, the new choreography was a bit tricky and everyone was taking a bit longer than usual to pick it up, and that had led the dancer to embrace this sour mood. Even when she was smothering his cheek with kisses, clinging onto him, he had only sighed, turning to meet her lovey-dovey eyes with his tired ones, giving her a small smile before bumping his forehead with hers, “I’m gonna blow off some steam, yeah?” That had meant he’d be gaming the stress away, and she was supposed to act like a good little kitten and not play around. Lord knows why she thought of cleaning in the first place, perhaps because she was bored and needed a distraction- oh god.

He blinked at you, trying to control his expressions, though his hard stare had you shaking in your boots, slowly standing up he walked closer, and you took a step back, enough for your back to press against the wall next to the TV. Yunho had never hurt you, and he probably never was going to, but what he was doing now was uncharacteristic, exactly how angry was he? How upset was he for him to do what he had done? How angry and frustrated was he for him to say those words? For him to pull away with a glint in his eyes, watching you slowly grip your shirts, trying to control the frantic beating of your heart that was pushing the tears that were fighting to stay within your waterline.

He didn't even stop her when she slid down the wall, pulling her knees closer to her chest, his cold, harsh, brazen words slicing deep and bloody. He stared down at you for a moment before slowly moving away, his absence only hit you once you heard the soft click of the main door. It was moments later that you stood up, wiping your eyes you walked back into your shared bedroom, the scene replaying in your mind on loop;

He pressed his forehead against hers, not the way he would do so romantically, no, this was different, he was being mean, he wanted her to feel the anger coursing through his veins. Though his words were what felt like a cold slap,

“Can you do anything right? Or are you built to disappoint?”

Your eyes snapped open at the gentle call of your name, trying to ignore the lingering pounding at the back of your head. Of course, the persistent headaches were about to roll in, especially after that stressful scene followed by an unimaginable amount of crying.

Yunho whispered to you once more, noticing how you had flinched the first time, he knew your migraine would kick in as soon as he had seen your sleeping tear struck face- shit. He really did lose his cool this time, and had blown up on the wrong person. If there's one thing that he had learnt during his time with you, was that his girl was as fiery as a tiger, but her heart was as fragile as a kitten's, and his gold retriever self had managed to mangle it with his bare teeth.

“Love…” he brushed the hair away from your eyes, trying to meet your blank, unfocused gazed, as he cleared his throat, “I umm….I brought…something to eat-”

“Go away.” You whispered, gently pushing his hand away from you and sitting up, holding your head, the pounding getting louder and more difficult to handle, now that you knew he was right next to you. It was bad enough that you even dreamt about him saying that to you, in fact, in your dream he had broken up with you, which is probably why you gave him the stink eye as soon as he woke you up.

“I…I didn't mean to say that to you- tsk- it wasn't even directed towards you.” he sighed, running his fingers through his hair, trying not to rip it out in frustration. He did not mean to take it out on you, at one point he wasn’t even looking at you, he could just see himself and how he was failing - but did that mean he could take it out on you? No, it didn't.

You looked at him sitting there on his knees, he still looked like a giant, but his hurt puppy dog expressions just had you internally berate yourself, any moment longer and you would give in- “Wait…” you turn to look at the alarm clock on your side table and whine in protest, having his full attention on you. “You woke me up! I thought it was already morning- it's only 3 am.” huffing she flopped back down on her pillow, ignoring him by closing her eyes. This was the only way you could ensure you got your message across- granted you were at fault, that didn’t mean he could turn you into his personal punching bag.

Yunho sat there, staring at you, closing your eyes as his own cast down to his clasped hands, feeling even more guilty for waking you up, but the guilt had been eating him up, as soon as he had uttered those words the guilt had begun to bubble, watching you helplessly. That was why he had walked out, he needed to clear his head, he needed to calm down and think, and other than the monologue of an apology he had even gone out of the way to get you a cake- not sure you’d eat it now, considering you were still mad at him.

“Ah-Yunho” she giggled as her eyes snapped open.

You looked down at him and snorted, his head was placed on your tummy, ear pressed against your shirt as he looked at you. “What are you doing?” you asked propping up on your elbows to stare at him, wondering what his mind was up to this time.

“Shhh…I’m listening.”

“To what?”

“Your belly.” he stated simply before sitting up and replacing his head with his palm, “She tells me she’s hungry, and that she’d like this idiot to feed her cake.”

“Did you just call me an idiot?”

Shaking his head he cleared his throat, “N-no, your tummy called me the idiot!” he clarified before turning around and crawling to his side of the bed, picking up a tray and turning around to face her, “So…am I forgiven?” he asked, casually opening the lid of the box, glancing up to see her admire the icing, man, he really struck gold with this one, she was as forgiving as she was cute-

“Depends. If you promise not to have a single bite.”

His eyes widened at your request, trying to see if this was some kind of joke, apparently…it was not. Clearing his throat he placed the tray between them and saluted her with one hand, “Yes Ma’am!” he yelled before taking a spoonful of the cake and pressing it against your lips, “I live to serve and please my lady.” Leave it to Yunho to wake you up at the early hours of the day and feed you cake, a very Yunho way of apologising.

Kang Yeosang

He watched you barge through the front door, looking like a mad woman as you flung your bag somewhere across the apartment, not after kicking off your heels and stumbling into the kitchen, grumbling about how ‘shitty’ your day was and how you hate men, followed by a ‘minus you Sangie, you’re the best.’ His girl really was something else, it truly amazed him how he ever fell inlove with her, especially with her distaste towards most men, hell it took her some time to even warm up to the rest of the guys- except for Mingi, which was super weird because if you ask him, Mingi is the weirdest, but she just said he’s a giant baby who thinks hes cool, like boss baby!

Picking up the remote, he pressed play, leaning back against the couch to continue watching the film. Only a shrill call of his name has him jerking off the sofa and running into the kitchen. Stumbling through the door frame blinks at you, with you standing there with the fridge open, glaring daggers at him, holding onto a container - oh…no.

“Yeosang…” other than your horrifying expression, your overall tone was very calm, which honestly scared him, you were a very expressive person until pushed to a point where you begin to shut out others, and right now, he’d have you yell at him, than completely shut him out. He took a step in your direction, only for you to raise your hand and stop him, motioning towards the empty container, “Did you eat the last slice?” Even though it was a question, it really did sound like a statement, one that was holding back the predestined overflow of emotions, of stress.

With a light sigh, he nodded, clearing his throat as he continued, “I…um…I forgot that you told me to save it for you…I’m sorry, it completely slipped my mind.” His words held a gentle form of sincerity, the tender warmth of love, the calm essence of admiration - and she could not give a flying f*ck about it, especially not right now.

Making sure to maintain eye contact, you placed the empty container - the evidence - back in its place before closing the fridge. Taking a deep breath, you walked away, making sure not to spare him a glance as you walked out of the kitchen, ignoring his calls when you walked into the bedroom. You could hear him run after you, a gentle whine hanging off the tip of his tongue, but he froze when you turned around and looked at him, giving him no expression whatsoever, just, blankly staring at - no, through him. Honestly, it was then when he realised that this was not about the stupid cake, no, this was much more, he had forgotten something that was important to her, something she must have been looking forward to while she was on the bus home, something she must have been craving to eat- selfish, that’s what he was, and he knew deep down how mad she must have been- could he blame her?

He sat on the edge of the bed, ever so quietly, watching you go through your nightly routine. It hurt how easily you could pretend he wasn’t there, but then again, he wasn’t very attentive to your presence within this apartment either. He watched you go into the washroom, peaking through the door left ajar, watching you vigorously rub your face, holding back the urge of telling you to go gentle with the scrub on your skin, but he knew if he did, he’d probably get kicked out of the room- at least you didn’t ask him to leave you. You came back into the room, making sure to glare at him, something he caught onto pretty quickly, averting his gaze to his lap.

After a solid ten minutes of letting you change your clothes he glanced up at you once again, only to find you frowning at him through the mirror as you brushed your hair- at this point he realised you had not shut him out, but had decided to punish him like this. This went on for a while until you finally ripped The comforter from your side, making sure to land on the with an angry bounce, enough for him to jerk, turning to your direction for you to glare at him one more time and turn around as you flopped down on your side with an audible “HMPH”.

He didn't know if he should fine this cute, or be upset, a good part of him wanted to tease you, his inner menace begging to come up to the surface, but his more mature side or being kept reminding him that she was only doing this to avoid blowing up at him- which only added to his guilt, you really were a blessing.

You sat up to the sound of something shattering, heart racing a thousand miles as you turned to look at the place on the bed that was usually occupied by Yeosang, only to gasp when he wasn't there. Slipping out of bed, you slowly crept towards the door, grabbing your handy bat in the process as you tip toed out of the room, towards the kitchen. It was early morning, other than the noise from the kitchen, you could hear the early chirping of the bids- Yeosang had an early schedule today, so he was already out of the house- did that mean he forgot to lock the door? Shit, did someone come in because the door was unlocked, or did someone break in because they saw your boyfriend leaving.

With a bat in hand, you ran into the kitchen, ready to swing at the intruder, only you stopped mid swing when you met a familiar pair of eyes.

“YAH! KANG YEOSANG!”

His eyes widened at the sight of the bat, body frozen, crouched on the ground, waiting for the impact, only for him to jerk into action and fall back on his butt, staring up at her, whispering, “I almost…died.”

With a huff, you placed the back on the counter, pushing your hair back and walking over to your idiotic lover. Glancing at the pieces of shattered glass on the floor, oh, so that's what happened, huh? Giving him a hand, you looked at his face, raising a brow, watching him mumble something before giving your hand a squeeze.

“What?” you asked, leaning closer to hear him better, only he mistook it for you wanting affection, or perhaps he was the one who needed physical consolation. His arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you flush into his chest, making sure to squeeze you close. With a sigh you leaned your forehead against his shoulder, a good night's rest clearing your mind of any and all negative thoughts, in fact, now you were just exhausted, and wanted nothing more than to be pampered by your forgetful lover.

“What were you doing here?” You asked, looping you around from under his, placing your palms flat against his shoulder blades, feeling the slightest shift, pressing him closer to you - almost squeezing him like a plushie.

“Was…trynna bake you a cake.” He mumbled, burying his face in your hair, “But I messed up….I'm sorry…I ate your slice.”

With a sigh, you pulled your face back, giving him a small smile, “It's…alright Sangie…I'm sorry I got so upset last night…I just really really really don't like men.”

He pouted at your statement and nodded before leaning closer and pressing his forehead against yours, whispering, “Am I included in that statement?”

A giggled broke past your lips as you glanced up at him through your lashes, “Of course not…you're a fairy prince…not a stupid man…now come on,” with that you pulled away, gently lacing your fingers with his, “Let’s bake a cake together.” He could only smile at this, blushing at your compliment, any other day he'd argue about how he was a manly man, but today, he just wanted to shower her with all his love and tenderness, so he'd take it, and he'd be your fairy Prince for as long as you need him to be.

Taglist: @edenesth @yessa-vie @mlysalt @the-kpop-simp @spooo00oky @bunnyluvr25 @s-h-y-a @ateezswonderland

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suckerforblondeathletes · 3 months

Text

Brats Get Punished - Alessia Russo

Alessia Russo x Fem!Reader

Summary: When Alessia acts out in public to turn you on, she gets punished for it.

Warnings: SMUT!!!! Rough Sex, overstimulation, hotel sex, consent is key, safe word mentioned, not used, Dom!Reader, Sub!Alessia, brat!Alessia.

Authors Note: First Smut fic, hope you enjoy its a long one!!

Your woken up from your slumber from a call from your girlfriend.

It's a routine you both have made, she calls you every morning to wake you up. You claim that it better than an alarm.

You wipe the sleep from your eyes before picking up the phone and putting her on speaker.

"Good morning baby." She says softly, knowing you're still tired and barley awake.

"Good morning love, I don't want to get up and catch that flight." She giggles at the sleep in your voice and the complaining you're doing. Her laugh causes you to smile to yourself.

After you both talk for a couple minutes you decide to FaceTime her and start getting ready. She mirrors your actions by walking into her bathroom and washing her face.

You both smile at each other when you make eye contact in the camera, laughing you walk out of the room to grab something, walking back in you get a text from your captain wondering if you have gotten up.

Leah knows you're not a morning person, and would do anything too get 5 minutes of extra sleep.

You roll your eyes and pick up the phone, not going unnoticed by Alessia.

"Whats wrong?"

"Leah is bothering me way too early for my liking." She laughs at your annoyance in your voice and a thought crosses her mind.

"When I come and pick you up today for the airport, do you want to stop by that coffee shop you like on the way?" Excitement floods into you when you hear the word coffee, loving a nice iced coffee to start your morning, but not expecting to get one today.

"Of course, I would be insane to decline that." You barley get your words out from the big smile that is on your face.

"Okay, sounds good. Im going to go get dressed and pack a few more things and then swing by, I will text you when I'm close." She says as she finishes rubbing in a serum while doing her skincare routine, you doing the same.

"Okay baby, I love you." You blow her a kiss through the phone and she does the same.

"Love you too babe." She gets out before hanging up the phone.

You finish your hair and get a text from lessi saying she's here. You grab your bags and phone before heading out to greet her.

She gets out of the car and she wraps her arms around your neck while you hug her waist. Pressing a kiss on her lips and letting her fresh set of acrylics run through your hair.

"Hi baby." You smile at the blonde at the lovesick expression on her face.

"Hey, I missed you." "I missed you too, we don't want to miss the flight so we should get on the road."

She nods before helping put your bags in the car, while she is distracted you sneak into the drivers seat. She doesn't fight it, not enjoying driving while you are with her, wanting to be your passenger princess as you call her.

When you both settle in the car, you reach over to her bare thigh and put your hand on it, squeezing it periodically during the drive.

You can't help but notice her squirm every time you do. Grinning to yourself you know what will happen in the hotel room tonight.

"Finally the love birds arrive!" You hear the Irish women yell from across the airport, you roll your eyes, never understanding how much of a morning person she is.

You look over next to her seeing Caitlin passed out on her shoulder, and Kyra taking pictures of her sleeping. Knowing you are gonna ask to see that picture later.

Alessia goes to a seat and makes herself comfortable with her coffee and phone in hand, keeping quiet and not saying much to anyone.

She always gets like this when she is turned on. The realization making your grin to yourself again before approaching her.

"Whats wrong pretty?" You make eye contact with her and all you see in her blue eyes are lust, lust for you.

She doesn't say anything, just makes eye contact with you for about 10 seconds before looking back down to her phone.

You take the empty seat to her left and pull your phone out as well. Canceling out the rowdy teammates and waiting for the boarding to begin.

You place your hand on her thigh again, but higher. You keep looking down at your phone, acting like you don't know what you're doing.

When you placed your hand on her thigh, you hear a small whimper from her before she turned her phone off and threw her head back, closing her eyes trying to pull herself together.

You start to inch your way higher before she grabs your hand and pushes it off of her.

You place your hand on her thigh again and when she goes to move it you lean forwards, close to her ear and whisper.

"Move my hand again and I will fuck you right now in that bathroom and I don't think you want our teammates to hear your moans, do you?"

You both made eyes contact, you see the frustration in her eyes and she sees the seriousness in yours. She releases your hand and lets it fall back onto her thigh.

She wanted you, and bad. So she had to find away to make you want her in the same way.

You look back down to your phone before the boarding announcement begins.

When you board the plane you and Alessia get seats next to each other, you in the middle, her in the window seat sharing a big blanket, and Leah on the isle seat. How she got seated next to you, you have no idea.

"So y/n, I heard you went to Australia a few weeks back with less, how was it? I forgot to ask." She turned to you and put her knees on her seat like a child waiting for a story.

Before you could get a word out you felt a hand being placed on your leg, the shorts you are wearing, that match Alessia's, being pretty short and your thighs being easily accessible.

"It was nice, wasn't it less?" You turn to the blonde and give her a stern look, a warning that if her hand went any higher than it was that she would pay for it.

"Yes, it was a lot of fun. Good scenery." She smiles at both you and Leah, acting innocent as if she wasn't running her nails along your bare thigh under the blanket.

"Fun, I tried to go a month back but ended up here with work and practice, then camp came up..." She is a huge talker, would talk someones ear off if they let her. Normally you would, but Alessia's hand going farther up your thigh canceled her out.

"Hold onto that story for one quick minute Leah." She nods and looks at her phone while you turn to Alessia.

You grab her by the jaw, not to rough but enough to turn her face close to yours.

"Im giving you one more warning babe. Cut that out before I will make you regret you ever even touched me." You whispered as you made eye contact with the blonde. The lust in her eyes grew as she thought about what you would do to her, she nodded and you let go of her jaw, turning to Leah and asking her to continue.

Though her hand never left the inside of your thigh, if stayed still and didn't move for a while.

You both ended up falling asleep when Leah left to play cards with Mary. Her head in your neck and you arm around her shoulders and the blanket tugged over you both.

You woke up first and began scrolling on your phone.

Feeling movement on your shoulder you look over to Alessia, seeing her pretty blue eyes looking back at you, full of lust like before.

"Hi baby." You smile at her before she makes a incoherent mumble and lays her head back on your shoulder.

You turn back to your phone until you feel light kisses on your neck, in a spot she knows you love.

Her hand wonders higher on you leg again, you didn't think she could do anything else, until she starts releasing light moans and whimper into your ear.

Thank the gods it didn't last long before the plane landed shortly after she started teasing you.

When the departures start, you make eye contact with the Italian, anger and sexual frustration filled your eyes, while playfulness and need filled hers.

You stood up and grabbed your over head bag before gripping tightly onto her wrist, pulling her up and out of the plane.

She tried to make small talk but you stayed silent, thinking about her punishment for later.

It was evening in Barcelona, which gave everyone time to go and set their bags in their hotel rooms and get settled for the night.

You grab Alessia's bag in your left hand and yours in her right and head to the elevator, still not saying a word to her.

"Move over my suitcase won't fit." Kyra complained to Steph. Steph some how had three suitcases all for herself, no one should have three for one person but Steph is Steph so no one says anything.

"No, I think you should catch then next lift Kyra." She had sass in her tone which made Leah and Katie laugh to themselves.

Kyra was about to complain again before you stopped her.

"Kyra its fine, Me and less will wait and catch the next one, go on." She thank you as both you and Alessia get off.

You watch as the door closes before you make sure you both are alone.

You turn to her and grab her by her throat, not roughly to choke her, but enough to make her go fuzzy in her brain.

"You want to act like a brat, I will treat you like one. I warned you and you didn't listen, you pay for it." You give her a stern stare and turn away waiting for the elevator.

You unlock the door and immediately rush her inside and press you lips harshly against hers.

You push her into the door, making the wind leave her lungs as she moans into the kiss.

You slip your tongue into her mouth you pin her to the door by her waist, her arms going to your neck.

You both make out for what feels like years before you wrap you hand around her neck again and push her towards the bed.

You pull of her jacket before pushing her on the bed, crawling onto of her.

You lean down to start kissing on her neck, her hand fly's up to thread her finger in you hair, pushing you tighter to her neck, moaning when you kiss certain spots.

Her legs wrap around your waist as your on your knees on the bed in-between them. Your hands roaming her sides and travel to her thighs and rub and squeeze them before sitting up.

"Why did you stop?" She has a look of confusion on her face before you pull her to a sitting position and take her shirt off. Leaving her in a black bra.

You lay her back down before kissing on her cleavage, not taking her bra off yet.

She tries to lean up and take it off before you push her back down.

"I didn't say take it off, did I?" You keep pressing your hand on her stomach, holding her still.

"No" She shakes her head.

"Then why are you moving?" You don't give her time to answer before you smash you lips on hers again, slipping your tongue in between her lips.

You reach down and move her out of her shorts, leaving her in a matching black Victorias secret set you got her for her birthday.

You start kissing from her jaw to her cleavage again. Not taking off her bra, where she wants you.

Moving lower, you kiss down her stomach, leaving hickies on her stomach, unable to be seen by any one but you, just like the ones on her boobs.

She moans and lifts her hips to try and get your mouth to her clothed pussy, where she needs you. You press her hips down to the bed before continuing your slow kissing down her to hips and thighs.

"Babe please." She whines pulls on your hair slightly. "Be patient or you get nothing."

That makes her stop fighting and her moans continue.

You press a kiss to her clothed clit, making her moan and jerk her hips up, unable too though by your strong arm holding her down.

You continue to kiss her clothed clit, making her moans escalate, before leaving and kissing her inner thighs.

She remembers what you said earlier, so she says nothing.

You finally sit up and unclip her bra. Immediately leaning down and latching onto her hard nipple.

She moans loudly and tries to grind onto your thigh, pressing your head closer to her breast, trying to get more pressure.

"Your being so good baby, wish you were this good earlier." You make eye contact with her and she moans louder, watching you switch nipples and pinching the other one.

After some time, you sit up and pull her underwear down, watching her slick drip down her pussy.

The scene is so pornagraphic, it makes you moan, already wanting to taste her.

"You know what to say when its too much, right babe?" You rub her thigh and making sure she knew when to tell you if it was too much.

"Yes love." She reassures you and that's all you needed to hear before leaning down and licking a long stripe from her entrance to her clit, earning a loud moan from her.

You lap at her entrance, wanting to taste her before pushing your tongue into her, her hand pushing your face deeper into her.

She starts grinding your face as your tongue fuck her, her moans extremely loud, waiting for this all day.

"Im close." She warns you and you pull away.

She gives you a pathetic whine and sends you a begging look, she feels you coat your finger in her slick before you lean down to press a kiss to her swollen lips.

She moans at the taste of herself on your tongue, reaching behind your neck to deepen it.

While she does that you plunge two long finger into her pussy, making her moan and break the kiss, throwing her head back in pleasure.

You don't wait for her to adjust before fucking her in a bruising pace, making her release loud moans and arch her back.

You cant help but admire her like this. Back arched, eyes squeezed shut and mouth open, releasing loud moans reserved for you. Your finger plunging deep into her, feeling her slick coat your fingers. Its like an amazing dream.

"Im close" She warns again, but this time you keep going.

"Not yet babe." You say and she starts squirming, trying hard to hold back the knot in her stomach.

"Please please baby please let me come." She begs you, eyes still not open, meeting yours.

"Apologize for earlier, apologize for acting like a brat in public." You demand her, you pace quickening.

"Im sorry babe im sorry I regret it im sorry." She practically screams, so lost in pleasure.

"Come right now, coat my fingers." Immediately after you give her access she comes all over your hand, her juices spilling out all over your hand and onto the sheets.

But this doesn't stop you, you keep pounding into her overstimulated pussy, making her yell out in pleasure and overstimulation.

"Come on babe, give me one more. I know you can my love." She whimpers at the sweet words of encouragement, her grip on the white comforter tightening . before feeling the knot in her stomach again, she releases all over you, coating the sheets and your arm once again.

"Shhh that's it baby, ride it out just like that. Good girl." You coo at her before leaning down and kissing her temples and forehead.

She lays her back down on the bed, releasing her grip on the comforter. You brush her hair from her sweaty forehead and press soft kisses on her face, bringing her back down from her high.

"Are you okay love?" You ask softly, caressing her cheeks and she opens her eyes.

"There you are my sweet girl." You smile at her softly before kissing her lips. Running your fingers through her hair before going to get up.

"Where are you going?" She asks, sleep evident in her voice.

"I will be back baby, don't fall asleep just yet." Knowing she won't follow that last ask, she never does.

You walk into the big bathroom and run a hot bath, adding epson salts into it and bubbles before lighting a candle that came with the hotel and turning the lights off.

Walking back into the hotel room, you see she wrapped herself in the blanket you both used on the plane, smiling you go to walk up to her before hearing a bang on the door.

You walk up to it, peeking through the key hole, seeing Katie standing there, you all of a sudden remember you are in a hotel, and Alessia's loud moan were for sure heard.

You crack open the door before sticking your head out.

"Wow surprised you could walk with all of the yelling we heard." You see Beth leaning against the wall smiling to herself.

"I don't know what you mean, that wasn't us." You smirk at her before closing the door. Katie trying to knock again, but no answer.

You walk over to Alessia's sleeping form before brushing some hair behind her ear, causing her eyes to flutter back open.

"Come on love, a bath is run for you." She shakes her head, causing you to let out a laugh before picking up her naked, tired form.

Her face immediately tucks into her neck as you walk her to the bathroom.

You move her around in your arms to where your holding her bridal style and gently set her down in the warm water.

She smiles at the feeling, but her smile fades when she notices your not in it with her,

She reaches for your had before noticing your undressing yourself, smiling she leans forward to give you room.

You sit behind her wrapping your arms around her waist and pressing kisses to the side of her head.

"I love you so much." She says, turning her head to look you in the eyes.

"I love you too, more than you know." You both give each other soft smile before she leans up and kisses your lips.

After you both are done washing up, you both pile into the bed, the other bed than the one you both were... having fun on.

You pull her into your chest and press kisses into her hair before she falls asleep. You know you will get teased tomorrow because of this, but you don't care.

You hug her tighter, and fall off the cliff of sleep, joining your lover.

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