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hollyhomburg · 2 days ago

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Before I Leave You (Pt.77)

(Omegaverse au, Mafia au, Bts x Reader)

Summary: Tae and Hobi help Yoongi during your first wave of heat.

Tags: Yoongi x Tae x Hobi x m/c, Dom! Yoongi, dom! tae, switch! hobi, Sub! m/c, Foursome, heat sex, breeding kink, pregnancy kink, fertility kink, control kink, mommy kink, talking her through it, dirty talk, exhibitionism and Voyeurism, teasing, flirting, biting, a tiny hint of mind break, a bit of pillow riding, dumbification kink, size kink, dirty talk, hole check, inspection kink, fluffy smut, no hurt just comfort, okay slight hurt because Hobi has anxiety, coming prematurely, cum play, sleepy sex, brief referenced Somnophilia,

W/c: 14.4k

A/n: thank you guys for being so tolerant of my brief absense, i didn't intend to take so long to update this but unfortunately sometimes living through historical events can be really tough to get through. i can't belive we made it to the 77th chapter! i always thought it would be nice to get to this point because you know- seven is bts's number <3 bily is way too long lol

Previous part- Masterlist - First part

The hunger of the heat finds no respite and no quiet, not even under darkness where lovers touch finds seemly eyes blind. Your descent into fever is fairly controlled given how long it's been since you've gone into heat. It's gentle even as your body surrenders itself completely to your instincts.

But there is nothing dirty to it. Nothing that leaves you feeling filthy and used. Going into heat with the pack leaves you feeling clean of your insecurities and anxiety. The last little bit that clings to you burned out by the heat like Bitter weeds burned out so that sweet tall growing love can take the place of the barren fields.

It’s easy to burn. Lights just like that.

The next three and a half days progress in a haze of lust and love and comfort. If asked, you’re not sure that you could articulate just what it’s like- the thrall of heat. The fever that burns through you, simmers your bones to dry kindling and hungry wind. The fire that craves not for food or water or air, just their touch. Just them.

I would love to say that your, Jungkook and Jin’s heat goes well- but in all reality it doesn’t. In reality- it’s a bit of a shit show.

One omega in heat is generally chaotic, but 3 is a horny hurricane of slick, cum, and tears. Your packmates are bound to get exhausted at one point and fail to fulfill your needs through the own simple fragility of their bodies. Your alphas aren’t indestructible or immune from exhaustion, as much they like to pretend otherwise.

Normally Jin and Jungkook are a bit of a handful. On account of being a little older, Jin is sweet but a little demanding.

Willing to scruff the alphas just to sit on their knots and all but bully Namjoon into letting him hog his (Something that Namjoon only sometimes allows.) Possessive and protective of them. Often sleeping with one hand pressed to Namjoon’s stomach, his throat, or when the heat fever spikes particularly high- wrapped around his knot. Protecting it, keeping it safe. To make sure no one steals it.

Jin gets incurably sleepy during his heats, Awake one moment and fast asleep the next. Easily worn out. Jin’s pout is never far from his plush lips, eyes always about to narrow when someone denies him his requests (usually for his own good).

Jin has asked for…strange things in heat before. For the alpha’s to breed each other, knock each other up. For them to knot his jaw if they won't knot his hole (often already occupied). Stuff like that.

But he’s softer sometimes. More maternal. Checking their bodies obsessively for wounds, keeping them in the nest no matter if they need to eat or pee or go let Noodle out the back. Licking their scent glands raw to soothe until the heat fever burns so bright that he can’t resist any longer.

By comparison, Jungkook is a big bunny rabbit.

Insatiable and energized with every wave of heat, Jungkook turns twitchy and needy in the heat fever. Just as happy to bounce on a knot as he is to take a pounding. Jungkook requires stamina, Jungkook requires energy. Often laconic or non-verbal. Jungkook does not like it soft, likes hair pulling and biting and his knees scraping against the nest. Pulled from one knot to the next.

The pack is no stranger to waking up to Jungkook astride them, powerful thighs straining to lift himself up and down in the omega’s half-asleep state, sleep fucking his way to an orgasm. Their pj's pulled low or ripped if he's eager enough. Cute little gasps echo off the tall ceilings as he takes his pleasure at a dreamy pace. One of the alpha’s staring up at him sleepy, stretched out, happy to have a bit of a break from moving.

Jin honestly doesn’t know where all the energy comes from.

Sometimes the pack tie him up and fill his holes with some silicone just to get a break. With barely 10 minutes between his heat spikes at his worst. He’s willing to take anything- a spank to his cock, a knot meanly fucked in and out of his hole all loose when he’s too far gone. Anything and everything until the spikes get less searing and the fire ebbs from flames to embers.

Edging and overstimulation are the pack’s best friends when it comes to Jungkook’s heats. That’s what Jungkook needs; to whine and whimper and flinch at every touch until it’s worn out of him. Until pleasure becomes pain and then goes back again. Flip-flopping until Jungkook can’t tell if it hurts too much to keep going or if it feels too good to stop.

It’s a good thing he’s equally soothed with a plastic knot as a real one, that he’s happy so long as he’s filled and plugged up so that no cum escapes. Precious and warm and his alpha’s gift. Evidence of their claim and devotion.

Evidence too of what bonds the omega’s together.

Nestmates do this, they take their breeding together in their nest during a heat. That’s what’s good and right. What Jungkook’s instincts crave. There is safety in numbers. The more pups the better.

(never mind the fact that out of heat, jungkook plans to be pupfree forever thank you very much).

But everyone knows not to take the things said during a heat seriously. that all that talk of breeding and pups is just that- talk. what matters is the devotion and the sentiment. Yes I am planning on keeping you forever. No you don't have to worry if I'll love you forever, let me claim you, let me show you in a way that matters.

It’s cute even if it is a little gross, how possessive omegas can get of alpha cum during heats. Their bellies going swollen and messy with it. A little plug does wonders to soothe any of Jungkook’s discomfort. A spank to his hole before one is shoved in even more so. The cherry on top.

The pack has learned how to meet his needs well, even at the expense of their own. That’s one thing that separates your alpha’s from the others, they don’t think about their own pleasure at all, they don’t think about their own needs- only yours.

I want to share my side of the nest with you, I want to talk you through it- the pain and the pleasure. I want you to feel love in every kiss, every bite.

The pack has wondered many times over the last year where you fit on the spectrum from bratty to obedient, from lethargic to energized.

Would you pout and whine like Jk? Bouncing on their knots for a bit of reprieve? Or would you be like Jin- bratty and needy in all the best ways? A princess and the pee, the omega and the knot. It’s all very fairytale.

But compared to Jin and Jungkook, you’re a bit of an angel.

They thought after so long your heat would hit hard, that your body would make up for time lost and leave it long and drawn out and brutal. That your lack of heat for so many years would reward you with spikes that never end and pleasure that went too far. That it would be rough.

Yoongi would never want to abandon the others, but even he has to admit that you need to be his priority sometimes. You’re more delicate than the others. That is a fact that he's never been able to ignore.

But he need not worry. If anything, your heat just makes you more gentle, soft, and round at the edges where your anxiety and fear can sometimes turn you a bit prickly.

Something about the heat just wears all of your energy out of you, makes you sleepy and soft, hurtling down through Omegaspace so far that you can’t really feel anything if it’s not good, brain a mess of good pup, good alphas breed good puppies, knot good puppies too, pup pup pups.

You are completely pliant and suggestible. Tears forever hovering on the edge of your waterline summoned by the slightest edge of disapproval. Good, you just want to be good. To part your legs and let them have the sweetness between them. You don’t need to be needy; you hardly even need to ask before someone is there. Someone is always always there.

The need builds to a fever's pitch, a fire burning through you. You’ve never felt so touch-starved before. Your skin dimpling with gooseflesh the second you feel even the slightest warmth, the slighted brush of possible body heat. There is something frantic in you, the hot flush crawling under your skin that stills only when they touch you.

Is this what overstimulation feels like to Jimin? Is this what he feels like when he holds Tae? does he feel the same sense of lingering relief? You watch the ceiling spin as Yoongi heaves you up. Everything is in slow motion. Putting it together second by second. Everything slow and drippy like syrup.

The thing about omega's in heat is that they're a little bit dumb.

Like, there's no way that you could have ever conceivably run away from Yoongi and Tae and Hobi, no way that you could have escaped given your small size and their height. your run is doomed from the start.

The heat hormones are a little intense, a little hard to thing through.

You can't get over how good the pack’s hands feel, how calloused and intentional, bird bones and painted nails. Slightly rough and always firm. Calloused between the thumb and forefinger from pencils or firearms.

They’re always so gentle. So gentle that you feel every touch as not hunger but love instead. Maybe that’s what heats are? The need for love and pack sated by your bodies, that would find no satisfaction in it otherwise. There is no lust without love for any of you. You wouldn’t have gone into heat without them and their tender love and care. The love has always been there and this is no different.

You don’t have to question if they need you and want you the same way that you do. The scent of arousal is heady on the air, not just from the omega’s- but from them too. You can scent it; how they’re feeling. Their hunger.

It’s as if they've just come from in from out of the cold. It conjures up images of warm fires inside honeyed houses, of someone washing your face and you trust them not to get soap in your eyes, of waking up in the nest with your eyes still closed, the warmth all around you. Someone buttoning up your coat. Something warm and sweet to eat in your hands, sugar on the edge of your tongue, crystals of sweetness glittering and dusting deserts like starlight.

Only you are that sweet thing, you are that warmth. Your alpha's are the ones that have come in from the cold.

There’s this mischievous victorious edge to Jimin’s scent, the vanilla sweeter and smokier than usual. The concerned edge to Hobi's- the caramel all warm and melty but with a sharp hint- like his anxiety has turned syrupy by proximity to the omega’s in heat. The calm edge to Tae's; roses in the morning, cinnamon sugar sweetness for breakfast even if it will spoil you for later.

But Namjoon- you hiccup when you breathe it in too deep. A shudder runs down your spine.

Namjoon smells so much richer than usual. Mouthwatering and potent. Dangerous and musky. Namjoon smells like a threat and a promise. Like a storm coming that you cannot evade. Namjoon smells like an ache. Your lungs flutter around it, your breath going heavy, and your eyes roll back briefly.

You feel drunk on it, almost tipsy from it. So good that just catching it in the air makes you slick up, and it turns the tops of your thighs all glossy underneath the big shirt you wear, the big shirt that gets pulled this way and that when Yoongi and Hobi and Tae pick you up and drag you from the hallway into the nest room.

You squirm, trying to get to him at the end of the hall as they move you. Their single-minded focus is getting you somewhere safe and comfortable even as the fever climbs and climbs. Your skin turning hot beneath their touch so quickly that they share nervous glances.

One moment your skin is sweet warm to the touch, the next your pulse is racing and you’re burning up. Cheeks pink, temples damp. Your pupils are so dilated it turns your eyes dark and glassy, so little of their usual color visible.

You’d be worried and teary at Hobi's scent but it’s just so fun.

You’re having a hard time holding onto your worry. Being restrained by them feels like playing this way. His hands go hard around your wrists as you push and giggle. His thin bones pressed to your fragile ones. Grinning up at them a little feral, a little heat addled.

You try to push and roll away futilely, unable to put any real force behind it as Tae grabs your ankles and Yoongi takes you around your middle. You catch sight of his grin as you squirm. And his hands go harder around your waist. Pausing to tickle at your ribs before they toss you- a little unceremoniously- into the center of the nest.

Your body is bare from their touch for about two seconds but you still don't like it. No sooner has a whine started to build in your throat. Nuckles brushing the nest, belly up, staring up at them dazed. Then your alphas and mate descend on you. Depressing the nest with their knees and feet, rushing and hurrying to cover you.

The whole house is full of the sound of snarls, wet slaps, and the burning haze of arousal. The hormones drip to a slow build. Setting everyone on edge. Even Yoongi breathes through his teeth. You try to kick at Tae's thigh just for fun but pull back once Yoongi’s fingers scrape your ankle in warning.

Tae doesn’t seem to like your squirming, taking your wrists in both of her hands and pressing them into the nest until you feel it in the bones of your wrists. With firmness comes clarity.

Holy fuck. Tae's so hot.

Her hair spills over her face and her eyes are dark. The hem of her dress pulls low, and you try to lean up to nuzzle into it, lips curled into a snarl, a laugh. You could bite her. You want to bite her. You try too- but it’s hard to bite her when all you want to do is laugh.

Yoongi's fingers continue to tickle against your ribs, laughing and giggling through your very first spike of heat, ticklish. Squirming, held down until your breath goes ragged and you sag back against the nest, your surrender is just as sweet as the rest of you. You're so dizzy you're unable to fight against them. The heat zoomies worn out of you.

You laugh until you hiss. Curling to the side just a little as you double over in pain. A wave racks through you. Burning and stinging from your stomach outwards.

Yoongi stills, one hand on your knee, eyes wide. Tae lets your wrists go so you can clutch at your stomach. Holding your face through it. Hobi's hand is hard on your shoulder, knuckles white, expression stricken but unsure.

"Oh my little honey, don't worry, we'll make it better, shh just-" She's a little more panicky than the rest of them are. Her hand goes to Yoongi’s hip, his waistline, all but tugging at his shorts as if to say ‘do something.'

Yoongi holds your stomach too. Alarmed by your trembling. "Are you- do you need-“a knot, hovers on the edge of his tongue.

But you just blink. “Yoongi- it's too much- it burns- Sore- so sore here.” You touch your stomach gently, but it's so sensitive it still makes you hiss, eyes watering. Yoongi's hands slowly press to yours, flat, long fingers covering yours.

It's gone as quick as it comes, the wave ebbing after a stiff peak. And after a moment with more of Tae's shushing. You relax, stretching back out in the nest. Breathing heavily until you aren't. Until the cramping and the aching need want need to be filled in your head quiets.

Yoongi's fingers swirl on your stomach, gently. It's sensitive, but it actually does make you feel better. “You ran, do you want us to wait for Namjoon or-" You’re already shaking your head no when Yoongi cuts off. Letting your legs flop open so that he can shuffle forward closer. Nudging at the back of his hips with your heels.

You don't wonder why Yoongi mentions Namjoon. He's the pack alpha, and the right to breed you first in heat is his as dictated by old laws and rules. It’s stupid, but it’s instinctual. If you weren't mated, Yoongi might be tempted to ask Namjoon for permission.

Yoongi huffs at the mere idea of it.

But Namjoon isn't like that. He cares about your wants first. His own ego is very far down on his list of priorities and probably ranks just after Noodle's well-being in terms of Namjoon's pack alpha running task list.

Dominance is its own kind of submission.

And, judging by Jin's snarling from the other room- he'll be preoccupied for at least the next hour. You don't know if you can wait that long. A whine drips out of you, a sound small and weak. The fire starts to tickle in your tummy, insistent.

Hobi shuffles closer to you. Bare-chested, his red shorts looking tight. Looking unsure. "You did run, do you not want-" us, does not come out.

You shift, futile in your efforts to try and get comfortable, it's impossible with the weight of your instincts pinning you down, the pervasive ache that's sort of everywhere.

“Nah, just ran cuz it’s fun. Not cuz I didn’t want you to fuck me.”

Yoongi huffs and Hobi's grin cracks. His anxiety dissipates, fond with it. Yoongi's fingers itch up your thighs, parting them just a little so that he can shuffle forward closer to you. Until you can feel the heat from his tummy against yours.

You can feel so much. Your whole body one big nerve ending. You can feel the slight fluff and softness of the peach fuzz on his tummy dragging against yours as he gets closer. The feel of his slender but strong fingers circling your ankles. All of it.

You like this, you always like it when Yoongi's close.

“Glad we cleared that up, it’s not like I can’t literally see you slicking up but-“ you laugh and try and swat at him. He drops one of your ankles to catch your hand and tangles it with his for good measure.

A small smile hovers on the edge of his lips. He searches your face, smiling at what he sees your dopey smile and endeared indignation. The heat might be new, but this is so familiar his heart aches with it.

“If you’re gonna tease me while I’m in heat can you at least make it good?” Your breath goes heavy. Warm and sweet, fluffing over him. Everything; the sweetness to your scent, the ruddiness of your knees, the messy fluff of your hair over the pastel pillow, and the relaxed sprawl of your body is a siren song for Yoongi.

Above you Tae and Hobi stay quiet. Just watching. Tae drags a lock of your hair away from your face. Patient while you and Yoongi flirt.

“I thought you liked my teasing.”

Your tone sounds petulant even to you, “I do just not-”

Yoongi presses your knees apart, up towards your chest abruptly cutting off your words as you let out a broken moan. He puts a bit more force behind it than usual, putting you on display, spread. The hem of your shirt hides nothing as you feel yourself clench and his gaze flickers down.

“There you are, now I can see that you like it.” Your entrance looks swollen and pink but inviting. Winking at him. Tae perks up, looking not at you but down.

“Fuck don’t-“ you strain. Palming at his hands, inarticulate.

“What? Don’t you want them to see how messy you are? How messy you get for us. You make it so cute when you slick up without meaning to, so flustered.” The dirty talk makes your bones crack like kindling, makes you gush fresh.

The smile on his face widens just a bit, and you hiccup through the shudder that rocks through you. Your body burns, your stomach churns, and your skin simmers where he touches. Stoking your craving for more more more.

A breeding press. That's what Yoongi's just put you into. Knees to your chest, your sensitive heat slit ripe and wet between your thighs, ready for the taking. A breeding press in front of two alphas, in front of Tae and Hobi, watching with wide dark eyes. Your mate presents you for breeding. An invitation.

“Hold her.” Yoongi’s command is not snapped or growled out but Hobi and Tae follow suit regardless. Hobi fumbles, grabbing one wrist and Tae grabs the other.

Ready. Settled. It’s a bit of a strange show of dominance. But inside, Yoongi isn’t surprised that you needed a firm hand. To be held down and puppeted and propped. To know that they’re in control before you let your alpha's breed you.

He says your alphas- but he's the only one you're looking at. The only one you're whining for.

It’s hard to articulate your hands or your mind, tongue wrapped around a sound that can only be an endless whimper. Tae leans low when you try to squirm again. Her teeth nip at your ear, a shock to your system that makes you leak a fresh gush of slick half onto Yoongi's lap.

You have to be spilling and dripping by now. You try and press your legs back together and hide but Yoongi keeps you spread. His thumb skims the apex of your hips, the dewy fold between your thigh and pussy. Teasing.

“No pup, settle.”

You obey, unable not to. Sprawled there with them looming over you. Tae's fingers hover around your throat, manicured fingers rubbing soft against your scent gland, sensitive and tender. Achy. So achy you tilt your neck and show her your throat. Dizzy. The only thing solid is Yoongi’s hands and your instincts that tell you to try and get them closer.

Your instincts know what you need.

All of you sort of hurts. A bone-deep ache that has pinned you here as well as their touch. The ache that turns you free for them to poke and prod and love at. Each moment of their absence a physical wound, each kiss and brush of skin- a band-aid.

Belly down, you need to get belly down and show them. Need to show your alpha’s and your mate that you can be good- that you’re worth breeding. That you can take all of the love that they have to give and more.

You just can’t move your body; can’t make it cooperate- you feel so heavy and tired all of a sudden. Falling slack. All the fight going out of you.

“There you go, that wasn’t so hard now was it?” Yoongi’s voice is a deep purr.

You are missing things, the seconds slipping away as you start to sweat and whimper. You don’t see Hobi's stricken expression as tears start to gather at your waterline or Tae's eyes, dark but sympathetic. You don’t see or feel the way that Hobi trembles as he holds your wrists perfunctory now that you've gone limp.

But still, he holds you. the touch goes tender where moment's ago it had been firm. Hobi doesn't notice, Hobi doesn't see.

But Yoongi does. Yoongi sees all of it, holding your knees still, fingers rounding out over the bone, rubbing up and down your thighs, an inch higher with every pass, until the cool pads of his fingers are brushing your shirt. Shushing your whines as he shuffles between your legs and the meat of his thighs meets your ass. Shirt fluffing up to your belly button from this position.

If the other alphas smell good, then Yoongi is the heat in the back of your throat and the compass by which you fly home. Your scent spikes watching him settle on his knees between your legs, your toes pressed to his stomach still in your socks. White, to the upper ankle.

Yoongi takes them off, slow, fingers sliding over your calf. squeezing firmly, releasing the tension. Setting them to the side the way he'd fold laundry, casual, like he's not making you hiccup.

You can feel yourself clench when you register that there is hardness at the front of his shorts. Yoongi smells good, drippy, and chocolatey. You want him all over you. The fabric at the front of his boxers brushes your heat slit, rougher than the pads of his fingers, and you feel like you might just pass out.

Sensitive- your body is oversensitive. You can feel everything, the tickle of Hobi's breath as it hitches when he sees the mess between your legs. Sweet nectar to the hummingbird thunder of his heart in his fingers. Tae's soft growl rippling from her chest. Small chest vibrating with it.

Yoongi lets your hips relax and slides his hands up your hips to your waist instead. Bypassing where you’re sore for him entirely to go under your shirt, the rough pads of his fingers skimming up your midline as he says, “let’s get rid of this sweet honey.”

There are pet names everywhere. Pup, honey, little treat, sweetheart. On the edge of every line as he coaxes you to sit up. Sweetening every sentence. They’re unable not to add them, each nickname more loving than your own name.

How could you deny them the pleasure of it on their tongue. You like the way they say it, pup. Like you’re small and sweet and worth caring for. Worth claiming in a way that’s permanent like this. You trust them enough to see you like this, at your most vulnerable.

A shout comes from the hall. A loud repetitive smacking sound the backtrack to Yoongi’s deep satisfied hum. You toss your head to the side, looking towards the door with a loud whine. Hopeful to summon the other omegas here. Here where nothing is scary, and everything drips as slow as syrup on a cold day.

But you hear only hisses and snarls in response. A dark sound that becomes Jungkook’s giggle and something hitting the wall with a loud thud. A knee- or maybe someone’s hand.

The other omegas are not as easy to catch and soothe as you are. It will take one knotting each before the alpha’s manage to settle them and cajole them back into the nest. You go right away, no need to be disobedient.

Jin hisses loudly and goosebumps erupt on your arms. It has nothing to do with feeling cold on the contrary; the heat fever tears through you. You didn’t realize you were overheating until Yoongi disrobed you. Your mate is so good. So good at anticipating your needs. Guiding your shirt off of you with a gentle hum until Hobi can grab it and get it over your shoulders. All of this is so gentle.

Yoongi’s hands stay on your back, making you lie back down slowly, supporting you so that your abdominal muscles need not strain. Hobi tosses the shirt into some forgotten corner where it’s doomed to be used as a cum rag in the foreseeable future. You blink up at them, two of your alphas and your mate.

Why won’t they- why can’t you-

Yoongi’s hand presses flat against your stomach, quieting your sweet whines. You are entirely unselfconscious of your body like this, unaware of the marks or rolls on your body or the soft plush to your stomach. There is only Yoongi’s eyes on you, maintaining contact as he sets you back where he wants you. One hand on your shoulder, the other on your waistline.

Fuck, he looks down at you, eyes darting from place to place, feeling his hardness grow. You look so flushed and healthy, your body glowing from within from the fever. You look- you look-.

Yoongi cringes internally but you do look ready. Fertile and sweet and glowing from fever. Ready for pups, ready to be knocked up, ready for breeding. If Yoongi was an alpha, god help them all. He can’t imagine what it feels like to the others. To have you flushed and cute and willing like this.

What wouldn't he do? What wouldn't he give for your happiness?

What would Tae write about this moment? Yoongi imagines himself as a fly on the wall, a poem inside her head.

I think of you in all the softest colors, collect moments for you in the palm of my hand, give you love until its nicknacks and keepsakes, slip through my fingers, too many to count, your pocket and bowl overflowing. You are that, my overflow and my undertow, I dreamed of you, I dreamed for you, and yet, you are still here. My bedtime story, my good night kiss. the moon to my firefly, the sugar on cream.

For a second, he imagines it. You pregnant. You bred.

Your stomach round and taught. He imagines watching you get bigger and bigger until you're waddling around. Your chest sweetening with milk, already supple now nipples pebbling in the cold. To imagine them bigger is honestly- Yoongi cannot think about it without throbbing and twitching. The hardness a heavenly jut against your cunt. Just as weepy and needy as the rest of you.

You look so healthy too. A lump comes to Yoongi’s throat at the realization. You’d have it so easy carrying the pack’s pup like this. But even then- Yoongi wouldn’t let up, on the contrary. He'd probably rival Jin and namjoon in their protective instincts and their doting. He’d cave to all your cravings and leave in snow or rain and sleet to get you whatever your pregnancy cravings might ask.

He never thought he had a thing for it; pregnancy and breeding is more an alpha's wheelhouse but you…All round and full of them. It wouldn't even matter who got to you first, whose seed would take all of that is your choice.

But Yoongi imagines your scent going milky, imagines how sleepy and brody you'd get. He wonders if you'd take to carting one of your stuffed animals around. Would your instincts prepare you to cling to everything small and cute and soft?

He already treats you like fine china- but pupped? Your mate wouldn't let you lift a fucking finger. He decides right then, he won’t let you do a lick of the work in this heat. All of your pleasure should be by their hands shouldn’t it? That’s just an extension of love, right? Dictating what pleasure you get and if it’s enough- should be up to them- you clearly aren’t thinking straight enough to decide if you need a cock in your cunt. That should be left up to him.

(Clearly, the heat is getting to Yoongi)

Contraceptive, you took the contraceptive, didn't you? Yoongi should remember that. He shouldn't be so giddy for something that is impossible now and for all real likelihood may never happen or is years and years away. This is only your first heat. His instincts should honestly chill, he shouldn't be reacting the way the alpha's do.

Even if there is truly no harm in pretending.

Why does his chest feel so tight? Why do his muscles feel poised to fight? His pulse beats a little quicker, a little harder, as if in response to you.

Yoongi's breath goes deep and ragged. “My little honey.” He says, voice husky, and you squirm. A little happy. A little overwhelmed by all the attention.

He picks you by your hips, turning you over, guiding you to present the way that all good little omega’s do. Tummy down and ass up. You blink dazed as they move you, losing yourself a little more with each moment. Tae puts a pillow under your tummy and the crinkle of the waterproof pillowcase distantly assures you that whatever mess you make will not ruin the fun.

The room spins with the smell of them, the pet of Tae's fingers down your back as Yoongi spreads your knees so he can kneel between them. Stroking gently over your spine, pressing it to curve and arch for them.

“So good for us, so good presenting yourself, so so cute.” Her voice is quiet and honey-sweet. And you don’t know why but you suddenly feel like crying.

You want to cry in relief, you might actually cry over the praise. You are pinned there- beneath Yoongi’s touch and by his eyes as he looks down at you. He pauses to turn your cheek to the side so that he can better watch your face. Tae shuffles forward, picking your chest up and lying your half in her lap, your cheek resting just below the hem of her dress against her plush thighs. A predicament you've found yourself in many times.

You peer up at her, teary-eyed. Fists tangling with her dress, clinging to it, to her. You need something to steady you. Something to hold onto when your brain feels like a feather fluttering in the wind. Dazed and fuzzy. Omegaspace has never felt so intense before.

your lower lip juts out, glossy and pink. “Mommy it hurts.”

She bends low, pressing a kiss to your brow. The brush of her skin against yours makes you dizzy. It feels so good to be touched and loved like this. To feel someone touching your body so gently like it’s precious.

Who knows, maybe to them, you really are.

She nuzzles forward, her forehead finding yours. Her nose going that way then the other. Pecking your lips once, twice, and then again.

“I know pup, we’ll make it better.”

You whimper, and Tae sets your cheek against her thigh so that you can rest there through whatever happens next, one hand wraps around her ankle, and your other reaches back blindly to tangle with Hobi's.

Neither of them stops Yoongi. Neither of them tries to get in the way- it’s Yoongi’s right- as your mate- to do with you what he wishes during your heat. To fuck you this way and that. To take precedent and priority.

If only yoongi understood that.

Yoongi leans over you, letting his lap make contact with your ass, grinding forward almost immediately as you jerk back. You’ve never heard Yoongi sound so dark, his voice so rough.

“It’s so tough, isn’t it? Feeling so many instincts all at once huh? Being so small and scared right? You just wanted us to chase you, make sure we could catch you- make sure we’re worthy.”

He digs his fingers into your hip bones pressing you down into your knees. Your cheek turned to the side, nuzzling into the fabric of Tae's dress. You blink up at Tae dazed, eyes feasting on the way that her dress- flimsy and partially see-through- slips down her shoulders- pulled askew in your chasing.

From the hall- you hear the sound of groans and moans. You don’t know why your other nestmates don’t just come willingly. It feels so good, so soft and safe underneath you.

You didn’t think you could feel so safe.

Gone is the instinct to run, gone is the instinct to hide and cower- now all you can do is whine and part your legs, the ache there so deep there you feel it in your teeth. But Yoongi grinds his half-hidden hardness where you’re needy and sensitive. The fabric of his boxers quickly darken with slick. He doesn’t go quick, he savors it.

The fact that Yoongi doesn’t have a knot doesn’t cross your mind. Not even once. He’s still the first one you want.

…not the only one you want of course, but him first.

Yoongi cannot actually read your thoughts, so he leans low, pressing kiss after kiss into your spine, dragging his lips down to the dimples of your hips before he rises back on his knees. A look so soft in his eyes- Hobi and Tae feel a bit like they’re intruding on something.

“Whose knot should you take first honey, Taetae’s, or Hobi's? Or do you want me to decide for you? Tell me who you want, honey- anything.” He promises, voice husky. And Tae can tell he means it. Anything that you’d want right now, he’d give.

You whimper, shaking your head against Tae’s hand, her touch, a finger-popping into your mouth to sate your need to suck. You can’t speak- couldn’t even if you wanted to. But that’s alright, you’ve got packmates to do that for you.

“I don’t think she wants either of us Hyung,” she says, hushed, gentle in her tone- nothing in it telling her how hurt she is or if she’s even hurt at all at not being chosen first. You don’t catch the way that Yoongi’s eyebrows raise, the way his cheeks heat.

For all of his dirty talk earlier, he is completely surprised that it’s him and not alpha and a knot that you ask for first.

Oh, how intimate it is to be needed like this.

You look up at him, shy but needy, you need him- oh how you need him- you couldn’t imagine feeling this way without him here. Couldn’t imagine it feeling so good without his touch. The press of his palm on the small of your back, the rub of his thumb against your rib. It’s so much. It's too much.

You tug one arm underneath you under your chest, the other hovering, holding Hobi's hand behind you blindly. Your fingers, his fingers tangled. You rest your cheek on Tae's thigh and look back as Yoongi shuffles forward. The elastic of his boxers pulled down his hips. The head of his cock pink and glossy with pre-cum.

There is some scuffling in the hall too, a high-pitched “please please please” that can’t be Jin. You’ve never heard him sound desperate like that. Hobi's hot breath dusts the back of your neck.

Your eyes flutter closed as one of Yoongi’s hands leaves your waist to guide his cock. Only to shoot open again. Gasping at the familiar prod.

The thickness is just right, his body heat and his heartbeat you can feel as he fills you more and more. The comfortable stretch that you’ve become so accustomed to. No pain now only pleasure that makes your body hum and tingle from your toes to the top of your head, hair standing on end.

Hair that Hobi pets over. Shushing your full body shivers and hiccups as Yoongi slides home gently. All the way in. Hips flush. Pushing out the rest of your lucidity as he slides in to the hilt.

From that moment on- your heat is a blur. A dizzying cocktail of pleasure, pain, and comfort. Descending down and down and down now that you’re safe. Now that your mate is here.

Yoongi slides all the way in without any resistance. You’re wetter and tighter than usual, so tight around him that he’s sure your clit twitches against the pillow with the strength of your clench. He takes a moment through your mewling to calm himself, certain that if he’s not careful, if moves even a little tiny bit, then he’s going to cum early and muck this all up.

The moment passes between one breath and the next. Yoongi’s hands tremble where they hold your waist. Thumbs rubbing circles on the small of your back, breathing heavily.

"Shh shh shhh little pup, there you go, just like that. So full huh? I know you're sensitive but that's what you needed, isn't it?"

He makes the mistake of looking up at Hobi, and then that’s almost all it takes. His lips are glossy, looking not at him but at the place where both of you connect. The wet hot gush of your cunt stretched around Yoongi’s thickness.

His eyes are so dark they reflect everything, the curve of your bodies, the paleness of Yoongi’s chest a bright speck on his eyes, as fleeting as any star. He licks his lips, barely resisting the temptation to rock forward into the pillow between his thighs.

Barely.

You gasp against Tae's thigh, but her eyes are dark and trained on the same spot. Her lower lip pinned between her teeth like a butterfly to a wall. Keeping a filthy-sounding growl at bay.

There is something about the narrowness of Yoongi’s waist in between your legs and the broadness of his shoulders that makes her feel a little bit crazy. Yoongi has always been beautiful in a way that is neither alpha nor omega. Strong in a way that is an attribute and not a chosen quality.

The gentleness in him is a choice as he pulls you back on his cock, one hand goes to your shoulder, and the other stays on your waist, pulling you back and forth on him. Mindful of everything. The hot squelch of you and the pleasure tugging firm in his gut is secondary to the gentle way he guides you. Gentle and slow but firm.

Yoongi's hand is on your shoulder. Your cheek on Tae’s inner thigh, Yoongi's knuckles brush the inside of Tae's thigh every time he forces you back on his cock. Every warm gasps brushes her skin and Yoongi’s knuckles.

She greatly enjoys this; watching and waiting for her turn. She might not mind waiting forever if it’s Yoongi doing the taking apart. Tae can put you back together later. They can go like that again and again and she’d never mind going second.

Tae picks your hair off your cheeks so that all of them can see your slack lips, your eyes half closed in bliss. Your breath comes out in little 'hng' sounds. Like a moan stuck in your throat.

Her mouth is dry, and you gasp against her thigh when Yoongi grinds deep and stays there. Testing the resistance of your body and marveling at how there isn’t any now. He can feel it deep inside; a place that’s usually impenetrable shifts open bit by bit as the heat settles in you. A little tightness just at the head of his cock that’s maddening.

Fuck, Namjoon will be able to reach there, Yoongi probably could with his fingers, if you hadn’t taken the contraceptive, Namjoon could have put his cock right there and-

It must be your hormones. It must be the mating mark. That must be why he’s so close to cumming so quick. Rocking inside, just to savor the feel of you.

There’s no one alive who's felt this, no one alive who knows what you taste or smell or feel like during your heat. Yoongi will savor this for a moment. Maybe forever.

If the others would only listen, would they let him linger for as long as he wants to? His end barrels past him, flush with the knowledge that it’s him, him making you pant and blush, him making you clench and drip and moan and-

Fucking hell- Yoongi’s almost going insane.

He cums like that, holding your hips flush to his for a handful of seconds, rocking through it, breathing heavily. But he doesn’t flag, doesn’t go soft, just keeps fucking you after a few seconds, cock twitching and throbbing hard.

Fuck. It's so wet and hot, he can feel his cum in you, feel the way it's kept warm and snug. His spend turns frothy around the base of his cock too quick as he sets about fucking you faster, endlessly craving more. The clench of your cunt is not quite enough to keep it from escaping without a knot.

It’s okay, you don’t need to worry about wasting it, Yoongi has more than enough. Yoongi usually doesn’t cum so much, but he’s so distracted by you that he doesn’t notice.

Tae and Hobi grin at him, nostrils flaring because they can scent Yoongi's cum on the air. They know. The feral curve of their teeth eggs Yoongi on. He's not pulling out and he's not stopping until your eyes roll back.

Your eyes go wide when you feel it, giggling softly and reaching down to touch your tummy. Nuzzling into Tae's thigh, as much as a response that they'll get. Your giggling cuts off with a broken hiccup as Yoongi starts up again.

Hobi's watching you, fringe in front of his eyes to the point where Yoongi can't read him. Doesn't have the mind to right now, wholly focused on you.

But the tops of his cheeks are pink, and he can’t quite meet Yoongi’s eyes. On the other hand, Tae can’t look away from you, your hand gripping her thigh hard to hold yourself steady through the waves of pleasure and the brutal never ending breeding. Every time Yoongi juts forward, no matter how gentle. It feels like fire.

Out in the hallway someone snarls loud. You fall limp, clenching so hard that you all but force Yoongi out of you, he just laughs, deep and low, before guiding his cock back in. Not finished with you at all yet but not quite letting you cum.

Neither is the heat, licking at the back of your throat. He won't stop fucking you no matter how many times you almost cum, at least not until the fire ebbs. You hiccup, squirming.

"No pup, we're not done yet. Just a little more, just a little more and then you can cum, are you gonna make it pretty and squirt for me? I know mommy wants to see you all messy."

He’s jogged out of his reverie by the appearance of Tae's hands. Covering his, helping, pushing you back against his cock. Her eyes meeting his. You mewl blindly. Blinking away tears that Hobi pauses to wipe away.

Yoongi wishes she’d move so that he could duck down and kiss you. Is almost about to ask her to do just that so he can when she speaks.

“What does she feel like- what's it like?” Yoongi hisses, feeling his cock twitch, feeling you clamp down tighter in response to it. Aware that Tae can watch his stomach tremble on the exhale. Hobi looks away, a bit overwhelmed.

“She’s very-” Yoongi cuts himself off as you push back into him, intent on starting the fucking again. But the others soothe you. Stop your pushing, make you go slow. Thighs trembling, drawing out your pleasure. You mewl but it just gets shushed away by Tae. A mild scolding that just heats your blood further.

"Be good pup, I know you can wait and take your breeding like a good girl." She turns back to Yoongi, completely unfazed.

“Very very wet. She’s warming up. It's Hot.”

Hobi presses you down, hands on your shoulders, keeping you presented and at their mercy. There will be time for roughness and more roughhousing later. You keen at the harsh contact, the feeling of being pinned. Hoseok swallows so hard that the two of them can hear it, but Hobi's dominance is a fragile thing.

“Yeah, she is.” Hobi goes bright red, flushes, stutters. "I meant inside."

“I know what you meant.”

His tongue darts out to wet his lower lip. Hobi's cock jumps in his shorts partially at the embarrassment of his slip-up, and partially because when Tae leans to nuzzle she nips at his scent gland in reward.

Hobi likes this, being made to wait. Different than the way that Tae likes it. But if he stops to think about it he'll get insecure. So he lets the humiliation, the control, wrap around him like a blanket. These are the people he trusts to be vulnerable with. The people who decide when Hobi has a chance to knot or be knotted. Same as you.

How strange it is, to be equal to an omega in heat and a female omega no less. Hoseok is not used to this. Not the same way that he is with Jungkook and Jin and their heats.

It's good that the others are going first, to show Hobi that it's not scary. You peer up at him with unsure eyes. Like you're checking too. Hobi's anxiety is a low simmer. Barely there but not entirely gone. Threatening to flare should something trigger him.

You're not glaring at him, you're just looking. Eyeing him like you know he's anxious. Your hand twitches. And he moves to hold yours before he thinks better. You don't reach for his knot between his legs, already throbbing. You don't do anything but hold his hand, turning away from Tae's thigh briefly to nuzzle into your tangled fingers.

Tae's eyes are dark pools of honey. And her scent spikes, nice. You turn away from Hobi to resist the urge to bite his wrist. Pain and Hobi are not things that you want to put together. Pain and Hobi are things that your brain, even heat-addled, does not like to combine.

You press your face into Tae's thighs. Half under her skirt. Hiding there. Hiccuping, breathing heavy. Unaware of the dynamic emerging above you. She waits for another breath, watching Yoongi. The four of you go still.

Below him, you start to hiccup. It's nice being filled, but you want Yoongi to move already. Your fist tangle in Tae's dress again. Eyes wide and staring blankly, And it’s like you can’t figure out where to grip, where to grab to keep yourself steady.

But all of this is very routine, if they keep you just there, on the edge. build you up and set you down gently, your eventual Orgasam will keep the next wave of heat at bay for a little longer and your body will have more time to recover. It's a balance, giving you what you want and what your body needs.

you mewl and cry below them, sniffling. you've never been denied before. you don't know why, with your tummy already hot and heavy with yoongi's cum, they're keeping you right on the edge.

Tae massages the back of your neck and you pant little mewling breaths against her thigh. it's not a scruff but it's close because a scruff might just make you cum.

You drag your teeth against her thigh when it gets too much, your cute little canines leave little red lines that vanish as soon as they’re there. Tae just coo’s down at you before flicking her eyes up at Yoongi. Waiting and expectant.

She cocks an eyebrow at him and inside of you, his cock twitches. “Were you going to move or….”

“Yeah- sorry,” Yoongi flushes at the momentary awkwardness, the same awkwardness that dissipates immediately as he starts fucking you again.

He’s thankful you’re so vocal. Drowning out the wet slaps and his own broken curses. You’re so wet- the slide is so easy. So good. Your little 'ah ah ah's are so melodic. Joining the chorus of Jungkook's yelps and Jin's snarls.

You’re being touched everywhere, Yoongi’s hands big on your hips, Hobi’s hand down your back, and Tae cradling your face telling you it’s going to be alright. Every touch stokes the fire to burn harder. You like being touched like this, casually while Yoongi has you. You’re close almost from it alone.

Between your legs you start to drip, first down the generous curve of Yoongi’s cock, then onto the nest below. Staining it with the evidence of your sweet surrender.

“There you go,” Hobi says, low and husky as you fall into a rhythm. Your cheek rests against Tae's thigh, panting openly, hiding a little under her skirt. Hobi's finger strokes over your cheek, and you turn away from the touch, not because you don't want it, but because it's embarrassing. Having them watch you so closely like this, at your most vulnerable.

“Awe, pups so shy huh?” Tae teases, and you nod, blinking away tears.

Tae says something far above you, something that sounds too suspiciously like a command, but it's not meant for you. Hobi's hands go to your face and turn you to where they can see you. His thumbs rub up your jaw, cupping your cheeks, and keep you from hiding away in Tae's skirt.

He doesn't say anything and he doesn't need to as your lower lip quivers. There is no one to hide from, no one here that wouldn't love all of you. There is no part of you, dark or pink or otherwise, that these three- Tae, Hobi, Yoongi- don't know yet and love anyway.

Above you sunlight hits Hobi’s hair, turning it red-brown golden. The light Falls on Tae's dress strap too, across Yoongi’s chest and the veins in his hands, throbbing with a heartbeat from here. And you are breathless breathless breath-

“Deeper want it-“

No sooner have you asked for it than is Yoongi adjusting his position. Barely pausing at his steady pace as he hooks an elbow under your knee, all but picking your hips up so he can fuck into you at a punishing pace. The weight of your body pushes him deeper. Hitting a new place inside of you that’s so sensitive you tremble. Popping through some hidden resistance.

Yoongi keeps it steady, not stopping when you gasp, when you drip below you, hitting his legs as you soak the nest below you. Christening the heat nest with the first wave. Your first orgasm that only builds, a first peak that promises another. You gush a little, squirt a little more, every time yoongi slides into you to the hilt.

From this angle you’re completely unable to push back against it. Even less in control and at the mercy of the pace Yoongi sets faster and faster. Carving out a new feeling in you with every thrust. A space in your tummy just for Yoongi, warm and tight and perfect. Pleasure but also hunger for more more and more.

Any other day the wet sounds of your pussy clenching hopelessly around his cock would make him shy- but now all Yoongi can do is give you more. Chasing his building pleasure. A second climax that is stronger than the first. Building you up to your relief as quickly and as gently as he can.

You can’t remember your last heat, the handful of them that you had with Geumjae, you think you were left alone for most of it. You know it wasn’t anything like this.

Hobi pauses and reaches to touch your stomach.

Your eyes shoot open, looking up at him and the half-hardness tenting in his pants. because of you. for you.

Yoongi and you are honest to God so pretty when you fuck. Hobi hasn’t seen this too much before. Sure- little hints of it here and then. both of you tumbling out of the nest room looking sleepy and sated, He's seen Yoongi's hands wander or your touch linger. But this is-

Yoongi is so gentle with you but also firm. Dominant in a way that takes Hobi's breath away and makes his head feel fuzzy. Forcing you back on his cock, punching little “ah ugh’s” from your throat. So gentle in the way that he takes you apart. unyeilding in the pleasure he demands from you.

And the dirty talk-

"Right there yeah? That's the spot that you like isn't it? cute little omega you're doing so well. So cute, don't worry, i'll give you everything you need. I know, it's so much right? It's not too much, i know you can take it, thats my girl- there just like that."

Hobi's going to go insane, Hobi's going to cum in his pants before he's even gotten inside of you. just from the sound of Yoongi's rough voice. husky from the effort. He's already wet, the front of his boxers turning dark from it. Knot already half popped just from watching and-

Tae pulls at your hair, making your neck arch so she can wipe a bit of drool from the corner of your mouth. Cooing, touching your tongue where it lolls out obscene and cute at the same time. Hobi strokes over your stomach, saying nothing, just watching.

He hopes you can’t feel the tremble in his hands or the rapid thunder of his heart or smell his arousal. His hardness, prominent enough that if there weren’t blankets, you’d be able to see. Your eyes are glassy and wide as Yoongi breeds you, Hobi physically sees the haze descend as you get closer and closer to Cumming. Cheeks and chest flushed and pretty. Your eyes flutter closed. Hobi's hands are still on your cheeks. Tae has the same idea.

Your lips open in a perfect little oh. Yoongi thrusts forward particularly hard, and the wet squelch is filthy enough that he almost looks away. Tae's voice is a deep purr.

“Don’t close your eyes honey, I wanna see.” Yoongi laughs at Tae, Teeth gritting.

“Fucking.” Yoongi pants, driving his hips faster. “Bratty” his pace falters, “Alpha.” Tae's pink lips stretch in a smile.

Tae pets through your hair. And it’s gentle but somehow more ruthless that all they do is watch. You’d blush, but your blood is already hot from the heat.

You sob and Yoongi’s face cracks into a grin. “That’s it, there you go for us, cum for me-”

It builds and builds until you’re right on the edge, you stumble over it when the second wave of Yoongi's cum turns your insides hot. That and the barest touch of Hobi's fingers against your clit that has you clenching wildly around him, clenching too hard, almost forcing his cock out if it weren’t for the way he puts his weight behind his next thrust with a broken groan.

Your ears fill with a ringing sound. High-pitched, mind blank. Staring up at Tae without really seeing her. Going just a tiny bit cross-eyed. Just for a second.

When you finally stop seeing stars. Tae is smiling down at you lazily. A satisfied smirk on her face.

Your slick drips down your midline, just a little. You usually get very very wet when the pack gives you proper attention, in heat- your usually slick production is amped up. If you could feel anything right now, you'd be embarrassed.

The world is a collection of sensations. The ringing in your ears. Yoongi's kiss against your mating mark. The sensitivity of your body against the nest; the fabric damp beneath your belly as they turn you onto your back to wipe up your stomach. The blankets replaced. Someone mentions something about getting towels for the next wave and where did Jinnie put them? In the closet or out in the hall?

They set you down gently. Yoongi stretches your leg out straight and makes sure it doesn’t cramp.

There is a drop of water on the end of your nose. You're crying.

Yoongi doesn't move from between your legs, he stays inside. Because an alpha wouldn't move after breeding an omega, wouldn't be able to take their knot out. Yoongi is accustomed enough to omega's in heat to know when to move and when not to. He'll rest here, in your warmth and wet and mess until you tell him to move.

But still, it’s not enough. You cry, cheeks wet, unsure why exactly. The hunger and rabid wanting animal in you is not quiet. The fever does not ease. It hardly even goes down.

Hobi sits up, nervous, about to go bother Namjoon, knotting or not. The hair on the back of Yoongi’s neck stands up. But Tae shushes both of them rubbing your tears away, bending low to kiss them until she moves you off of her lap.

You barely register Hobi's husky voice. “Did so well, so good ug-omega.” Hobi's flush and his shyness escape your notice. But you do peer up at him, lips pressed to the meat of his thumb. Mumbling, sleepy and sniffly.

“Good? Not scary? Not hurts?” You ask, your words a little scrambled from the heat.

He leans low to kiss your brow. Lingering there for a second, leaving his lips there. Make eye contact with Yoongi over the top of your head. Looking sweaty and victorious and a little bit like he’s gloating as he shakes his long hair out of his eyes. Tae's hand splays on his stomach, bullying up behind him, saying something filthy into his ear, before she swirls her fingers through his tummy hair and then reaches lower.

“Not scary at all.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

Your breath hitches, You feel something prod at your sensitive entrance. Something bullying its way in next to Yoongi. The stretch burns but it feels so good. It’s the itch you needed to scratch, the last thing your body was missing. It quiets the fire in you, the flames of wanting ebbing.

You don’t even register that it’s Tae's fingers, sneaking in next to Yoongi and holding you open a little, curling just a bit to simulate the stretch of a knot and press against the scent gland in your pussy, close to your special little spot. Has she had to do this before for Jungkook and Jin? Is this a normal predicament for Yoongi? What does it feel like to have Tae's fingers by his cock and you so warm and wet outside?

Yoongi's pants, pants as Tae…sort of holds his cock while it's in you. He gives a faint twitch and she laughs behind him, hardness pressing against the curve of his hip. Forgotten about it for now.

The extra stretch calms your instincts and the fever ebbs a little. Your sweat cools. Your heart rate slows. Eyelids heavy, starting to get sleepy.

“Thanks Tae.”

You hear the sound of kisses, slow and sloppy as you doze. Comforted by the stretch at your entrance and Yoongi’s cock. You collect moments like seashells. Hobi sprawling out, more relaxed than before. Hand combing through your hair gently. Careful not to snag.

Tae's knees accidentally pressing against your hips. Yoongi strokes up and down your stomach, your sides, everywhere. Your hands pulled to your chest. Unable to focus on anything other than how full and filled you feel. Bred and taken. Claimed by the mark on your throat and the warmth in your tummy. All full, finally full.

The stretch makes you feel a little better- makes the need not quite so frantic. It can wait for later, the need for the others tearing through you. You can take this moment of peace right now.

your mind drifts, the seconds and minutes drifting away.

Warmth comes and goes, There is someone holding a straw with a cup to your lips. Hobi is along your front, half sitting up. The glass is dewy with condensed water. His hands damp.

Was he just standing up? Did he go to the kitchen and leave the safety of the nest just to give you some water, that's so lovely and so sweet. Your instincts tell you that you should let Hobi pup you for that.

As a treat.

You know you won't be awake for long, your thoughts are slippery to hold onto at best. Yoongi rests inside of you and doesn’t pull out. he Lets you cockwarm him and keeps you filled even though he’s going just a little soft. Tae pulls her fingers out once your fever goes down, ebbing until your body temperature returns to a stable baseline and the next wave no longer threatens to flare.

Hobi pokes the straw against your lip, and you suck blindly, obediently. Without opening your eyes. Non-verbal. They’re talking- you register dimly. You don't need to be concerned with what they say, you know they'll look after you regardless of if you're listening.

You rub your cheek against Tae's thighs. You love her thighs, they're so soft and warm. You hope you get to spend all of your heat like this, your head propped up in Tae's lap.

Well…maybe not all of your heat. You'd also like to sit in her lap too, preferably with her knot inside of you. But that can wait, she’s not going anywhere and you’ll make sure of it.

Your fever flares as your heat-addled thoughts run rampant, eyes closed and scent sweetening. It garners the attention of your pack, falling quiet above you.

“Do you think-” There is a hand on your face, your cheek, feeling you for fever. Tae's chipped fingernail polish flashes in the light.

“Not yet. We've got like, half an hour probably? Maybe a bit less?”

The slapping sounds in the hallway have finally quieted and the sound of your pack omega’s purring lulls you into a soft state. Your eyes flutter closed. Jinnie will be here soon, Jinnie is purring so you should purr too.

You fall back asleep, the rumbling in your chest a light lullaby. Above you, your packmates go calm and quiet.

"She smells so calm, it's so- it's so-" Tae rubs down Yoongi’s side, but Yoongi doesn’t look up. Looking down at you, eyes full of some unreadable emotion that is actually not unreadable only because they know Yoongi so well, his breath comes quicker, and he blinks quick.

Lowering his body, getting as close to you as possible. But he doesn’t relax, doesn’t blink so as to not miss a single moment looking down at you. Hand on either side of your body, depressing the nest. Your purring peters off as you actually fall asleep but- but-

Crouched over you, you don't even stir. Your chest rises up and down. Evenly. You nap without worry.

Hobi wants to tell him it’s alright. And it is alright if he needs to cry. Hoseok understands. Sometimes getting what you want finally- the person you love healthy and happy- Can bring up a happy sort of sadness.

Sadness, unfortunately, has its way of sticking around.

You doze below Yoongi, completely unworried and unburdened by any of it, and what a lovely lucky thing that is. For a single moment, Yoongi wishes that nothing would change. That you’d never leave this room and stay just like this. Happy and safe and satisfied forever.

He hovers, lingers in the moment. Tae and Hobi hold him. Letting him process it for a breath or two. The moment will end whether Yoongi wants it to or not.

Tae and Hobi don’t bring it to your attention and you slumber on, unaware. Gently pausing, getting up, abdominal muscles straining. Each of them presses a kiss to either side of your mate's face. Silent in their loveing but Yoongi finds it no less reassuring.

The next time you blink away the haze you can see evening yellow streaming through the window. Casting all of your loves in honey shadows. You don’t think to count for bodies, you’re too focused on the task in front of you.

The very very big task in front of you.

Your instincts sniff it out like blood on easy prey. Your cheek is still on Tae's lap. And there is a scent a few inches from you that makes your fever spike again. Your eyes flutter open and you see it.

Her hardness is right there, poking up through the translucent fabric of her dress. Flush with her stomach and visibly pink and hard. Barely contained by her panties in a way that you know must be uncomfortable.

Tae has such a pretty cock, such an unfairly pretty dick. No doubt, she's still hard because of your heat hormones. Hard and thick and lovely bulging in her skirt. Just looking at it makes your eyes water, your tongue feels slippery and hungry in your mouth.

You start to shuffle forward only to be momentarily distracted by movement in the door.

It’s a little comical the sight of someone so small carrying your big buff omega. Jiminie handles Jungkook like he’s nothing, like he hardly weighs more than a pillow. both of Jimin's hands underneath his knees. Jungkook's arms loosely wrapped around the alpha's neck, kept snug against his front.

Jungkook looks blissed out and dazed. His strong neck and shoulders are bitten up and dotted with red semi-circles. His chest is too- at least from what you can see of it. He's bundled up so close to Jimin's chest, it almost makes his usually muscular form look small. He's probably feeling small and omegaspacy like you are.

He's still knotted to Jiminie judging from the tender and careful way that Jimin carries him.

Jimin deposits both of them in the nest without any unintentional pulling or unknotting the omega. You perk up a little, chin balanced on Tae's knee to watch. Hobi cranes his body, bending backward without getting up, twisting and reaching so that he can get his hand in Jungkook’s hair.

“How is he?”

“Little fucker tried to bite my knot.” Tae giggles, her tummy makes her cock jiggle. You’re so close. All you have to do is press your mouth to the fabric and it will practically be inside. Your tongue is already pushing out and-

She shuffles away, every inch a heartbreak. You are too tired to chirp.

She reaches back mirroring Hobi's position, long chestnut hair spilling in the nest, arching her back and looking at both Jimin and Jungkook upside down so she can tangle her hands in Jungkook’s raven-dark hair. So that her other hand can settle on Jimin’s calf. Sporting several bite marks of his own.

You're too tired to whine or chirp to get her attention. But across the nest, Jungkook shifts. Restless.

“Do we need to muzzle you like we muzzle Joonie, Koo?”

Koo has little more than a huff in response. Uncharacteristically tired after being thoroughly put through his paces by Jimin. But it’s only the first wave, and like I said, hormones take a while to build

For everyone, not just omegas.

Whatever quiet moment Jin and Namjoon are having in the hall comes to an end as Namjoon carries him in, bridal style and no longer knotted to the pack alpha. Not all of you can be as dexterous as Jimin is. Jin doesn’t look like he minds, happy to be placed next to you. Taking Hobi's spot or close to it. It's almost like Namjoon puts Jin on top of your little puppy pile.

It's where Jinnie wants to be, on top of his pups.

Namjoon’s hands linger, but only just, he stands up straight but then ducks down to run his fingers through Yoongi’s hair, messing it up.

“Oh, my fucking god-” Yoongi says, a little incredulous. Already flushing even though Namjoon hasn't even spoken yet.

“Proud of you,” Namjoon says. A grin that is ever so slightly hassling on his face.

Yoongi's cheeks and ears go splotchy. “I’m fucking my mate Jonnie, it’s not something I need a participation trophy for.”

“We could get you one- engrave it ‘best cock in the fucking world’ or something. whatever you want.”

“Is that a compliment or an insult?”

“I was hoping you’d take it as some light flirting, but I’ll take what I can get.”

“I’m literally still inside of our omega and you want to flirt with me?” He’s more perplexed than he is annoyed. He looks a bit like a fluffed-up cat, astounded to realize the toy he's been caught playing with is, in fact, plastic and not a mouse.

Beside you, Hoseok flushes and you know it has everything to do with Yoongi calling you ‘ours’ and not just ‘mine’. Namjoon got the job done. Yoongi is no longer looking down at you like he might cry.

“He called your cock great; I think that hardly classifies it as ‘light’” Tae says.

“Guys, I am literally still-“

Jimin pushes Jungkook to the side, all so that he can grind his knot in again, deep, still not going down enough to pull out. The omega lets out a choked whine, at Jimin’s mercy. “I am too- never stopped me.” He turns to Tae. Hips rocking in circles. Absent-minded.

Jungkook tangles a fist in the nest and takes it with sweet little 'hng' noises. “That dress is honestly-“ Jimin trails off, Jungkook lets out an aborted whine at the pulsing in Jimin’s knot.

Tae just raises her eyebrow at him. If Jimin wasn’t red before he is now, especially once her eyes flick down to where he’s knotted to Jungkook. Pushing at his streached rim. Little cock helplessly weepy. His abdominal muscles faintly glossy from drying slick.

Yoongi splutters and you smile against Tae's thigh. Purring your agreement with Jimin. Now if only your hands would cooperate in taking off her dress or at least hike it up-

But Jinnie shuffles over. Still a little non-verbal in Omegaspace, just like you and Kookie. But to the point where his sentences are broken but sure, said with a pout and a command.

“Needed to check, needed to make sure." The others move for the pack omega, parting like the river over a stone. you don't immidatly register it, letting out a petulant whine when yoongi starts to move away.

Jinnie touches your tummy gently, delicate in the way that he sets palm against flesh. Finding it swollen and heavy. Perfectly soft and delicate. He touches you like someone would touch a flower, worried about the slightest brush too bruising.

You’re momentarily distracted by it. The warm heat of Jin’s palm, the flushed pout to his lips and cheeks. Pretty- your pack omega is so pretty in heat. You look up at him, sprawled. Yoongi twitches hardening inside of you as Jinnie bends low to nose at your stomach. Dark hair tickling your belly button.

Jin presses his nose just above your waistline and sniffs deep. when he breathes out it's a purr. Loud and satisfied.

He picks himself up and looks down at you with eyes that reflect no light, no anything. Dark and round like stones. "Bred omega, good packmate, good-"

Outside a bird putters close to the window. Jimin’s head jerks in it’s direction. Taught body relaxing the second he realizes it. Namjoon blinks down at you and Jin slowly.

Yoongi is still somewhat hard but pulling out, and even though it's been 30 minutes since you came, it still garners him a small mewl of displeasure from your throat. He doesn’t let any of his cum slip out. Forcing the little that does come out back in with the tips of his fingers.

but jin needs to see, needs to check, he pulls apart the dewy folds of your cunt with his fingers, nuzzling with his nose, you're so sensitive you jerk, all but mewling when he dares to lap at your entrance. soothing where you got stretched. happy to find you unharmed.

You twitch and tremble. Above you, Tae laughs.

Jin's voice is a deep hiss. "More- more not yet." He rubs his face into your stomach and thighs once more, makeing sure you're scent marked, that the alpha's who defile you will be able to smell him on you before they knot you. before he gets up on his knees and scents them. Hobi first, then Tae, then Yoongi.

He might get a little bit of your slick on them, his cheeks wet in patches with it. it's a little goss but honestly, Jin doesn't notice.

"Good pups. Best pups"

Above all of you, Joonie looks on fond. His knot is still half-inflated at the base of his cock. Still hard and achy and yummy, looking entirely too large to be real. As is normal. Everyone is bare besides your trio that helped you through your first wave and as you realize this, Jin tugs at Hobi's boxers. Displeased.

But you are not paying much attention to Hobi and Jin, still looking at Namjoon. At his knot between his legs. You clench down hard when you look at it, Yoongi’s fingers direct your gaze back up to him. Raising his eyebrows almost in challenge.

Namjoon's scent thickens on the air, but so does Tae's

Hobi ducks away at Jin’s attention and Jin won't let him rest, sniffing at the hollow of his throat, all but backing Hobi up against a wall. Like Jin’s worried he doesn’t believe him. “Best pups” he repeats again, like he's worried hobi doesn't belive him.

“We haven’t even done anything yet-”

“Still. Best. Pups.”

You turn to Hobi, whining, and finally breaking your eye contact and the weird half-tension between you, Namjoon, and your mate. Namjoon finally gets off his feet. Sinking into the nest and shuffling up behind Jin, half pinning him to the nest. Distracting him from quite literally herding Hobi by pawing at his legs. Jinnie has pretty legs, strong thighs and muscular calves. They part when Namjoon prods, more instinct than conscious choice.

Namjoon's hands shift the pack omega's legs apart and start to guide his cock back, not for another round but maybe for comfort. Perhaps he's been influenced by Yoongi's cockwarming to soothe. (That's a nice idea, isn't it? All of their omega's warm and bred full, all at once). Obviously trying to settle whatever instincts are currently rocking through Jinnie.

But Jin makes a noise, alarmed and not entirely interested.

Namjoon is already half inside but he pulls Jin off his cock anyway. His knot falls, heavy and wet with slick and spend against his thigh. He sets Jin down. “Fuck.” The pack omega throws his head back against the nest and blinks away his daze the same moment that Jungkook sighs and pushes back against Jimin before the elder of the two finally pulls his knot free with a gentle hiss.

You assume, more than see- as Namjoon’s hand finds its way between Jin’s thighs to push his spend back into the omega’s hole. You still don’t know how Jin manages to take Namjoon unprepped- even inside of heat.

A whine starts to build while you look at it, how are you supposed to choose?

“Wanna switch?” Namjoon offers reading the pack omega in the way that only sort of soulmates do. You perk up, trying to push yourself onto your palms unsuccessfully.

Jin nods, messy hair fluffing. “Too sleepy, can’t sleep on your knot, s’too-” Jin licks his lips, eyes darting down to look at it. “-Distracting.”

Jimin’s hand is already on Jinnie’s ankle and Jk sits up on his hands and knees. He and Tae make eye contact and before you know it he’s shuffling over to her and she’s starting to shift.

It’s casual like that- your alpha’s talking about which omega to breed next and who needs it most. You’re the only one still blissed out and at ease. Maybe just because you had three packmates to settle you and they only had two.

But you don’t like it. The way that Tae moves away from you.

Your attention ping-pongs back and forth from Namjoon to Tae. Completely unaware of the pack alpha's dark eyes on you. The thing about omega's in heat is that they're a little bit dumb.

Jungkook watches you move, watches Tae jostle you. Pupils dilating in alarm. His own pleasure momentarily forgotten. Your hands tighten on Tae's thighs, a needy whine building in your throat.

“Wait- my mommy- mine-” You chirp. But Tae is already moving away.

And before the others can even breathe Jungkook is jerking in Tae's direction. Lip lifted in a soundless snarl, answering your call first. The quickest.

“Kookie don't you dare.” "omega." “Wait don’t-”

Jk is quicker and stronger in heat. Too quick for Jimin to grab him or for namjoon to dive. He jolts, but at the last second you curve your arm over Tae's hip and his teeth hit you and not her. Hissing and spluttering, a smarting pain that honestly to God shocks you.

Jungkook’s teeth are still embedded in your skin as you look down. Cheeks hot, eyes wide. the rest of the pack falls silent. A bit stunned. But Jungkook just hurtles on, crouching over you and growling and hissing. Jungkook’s nose presses hard into your cheek as he bares his teeth. Licking them. glaring up at tae. “My pup- mine- alpha bad- alpha made omega sad-”

Tae lets out a crushed sound, upset.

Namjoon wastes no time, the first one to move after being shocked still. Getting up on his knees only to drag Jungkook back and away from you. Drawing him over his lap in quick succession, landing several swats over his ass. hard and loud. landing one over his cock for good measure and jungkook folds, breathing heavy. After the third hit to his cock, Jungkook’s yelps become moans.

Namjoon gives him no mercy when he pulls him onto his cock in one fluid movement, not bothering to prep him. Jungkook likes the sting, the stretch. Eyes rolling back.

Tae pulls you up onto her lap. Her cock trapped between your stomach and hers. But she’s not looking at your face but at your wrist. Yoongi shuffles behind you, inspecting it tilting it gently so that the red marks catch the light and they can see the damage jungkook did.

Your skin already already going purple and dark from a bruise.

“Are you alright- are you-” You are not worried about the pain in your arm, only the searing need between your legs. Tae has you in her lap, right where you want to be (unless?). You fumble with her skirt. Tearing it this way and that, hungry and insistent.

Her knot- you need her knot. You grind your hips together hot and filthy. Your pussy against her cock, her dress trapped between both of you. The fabric is rough even though you can feel her body heat through it.

“Mommy- mommy please-”

The room spins, and you're so dizzy you can't even think straight. Jungkook biting you must have sent you hurtling into your next wave of heat, which is not good. Not good at all. If your spikes are too close together at the beginning of your heat then they just won't end at all. A prolonged fever is too dangerous.

She barely pauses before she pulls up the hem to her skirt, letting her cock- pink-tipped and pretty- pop free of the honestly tiny panties, the bow at the front crumpled. You rub against it, turning it wet. The fire flows, sparking hotter and hotter and hotter. She grabs your hips, alarmed.

But Yoongi grabs your waist. Keeps you from putting it inside your hole, clenching around nothing, empty. You wail. You want it. Yoongi tucks his chin over your shoulder, hands running up and down your sides to try and soothe you.

"Wait little honey, let's get mommy nice and wet like this first." He guides you like that, to rub your cunt up and down Tae's length, every push of the head of her cock through your pussy makes you moan and twitch, wetter and wetter. Tae looks down, and it's not just your slick, but Yoongi's spend wetting her cock. Creamy, milky white tinged clear. Fuck.

at the base of her cock, her knot skin feels tighs and swollen, you rub low, getting it nice and wet too.

Yoongi does not let you go further, does not let you put in. his voice is husky in your ear.

"I want you to cum like this before you have her, you have to show Mommy how messy you get just from this, have to show her you're good for a knot too. A big pretty cock like that won't fit in unless you're nice and wet okay honey? You're too tiny to take it without cumming first and besides-" yoongi hesitates.

"don't you want to show them? jinnie and joonie and kookie?"

You nod, eyes glassy. Outside of heat, you might not believe him but right now Yoongi's words are gospel. At least your fever stops it's climbing, it doesn't get any better, but it doesn't get any worse. yoongi heaves a sigh of relief.

You really are unable to choose when you're in heat like this. It's not just useless talk. It really should be left up to Yoongi or the others, or else you'll hop from knot to knot, the heat fever frying your body and brain.

When you look over, Jungkook rides Namjoon. Facing you and pouting. Parting his legs so that you can see where they join. Mumbling something unintelligible that the others can’t make out. But your packmates keep you separated on opposite sides of the nest.

Behind him you hear the hush. “Is Koo? Rejecting her?” they hardly dare risk saying it out loud. “I don’t think so.” But still, the pack is not quite sure what just happened. why jungkook tired to bite you after tae moved away from you.

Deep in Jungkook’s chest, his instincts sing. My pup, alphas need to stay next to my pup, the pup needs pretty alpha. But words remain as effervescent as lucidity, the words just out of reach

Tears hover at the edge of your waterline, across the nest Jungkook watches you, sniffling too. Every time he even thinks of squirming away from Namjoon’s knot to get to you the alpha pulls him back onto it. After a few thrusts, Jungkook is too heat-addled to think straight. Too fucked up to glare at you (he's not glaring, he's staring at you with determination.)

In the nest still lying prone, Jin yawns, stretching out, toes curling. Showing off his cum stained tummy, his flushed cheeks, and the pretty round curve of his body. Raising his eyebrows at the alpha’s in your nest.

Your nest. Yours’s, Jin’s and Jungkook’s. Full of your pretty alpha’s with their pretty knots.

Tae's cock rubs up between your legs, head bumping against your clit and you jerk, only to be met with Yoongi's sushing.

It's so different to have them so close, to have them fucking right here close to you. You're almost more interested in watching Jungkook and Namjoon fuck than you are in getting fucked by Tae. Almost. Your body grids forward unbidden. Eager even if your mind is hazy.

Jin's a bit more lucid (the three of you share a single brain cell in heat, and Jin will keep it in his front pocket for the foreseeable future.) Your packmates sit at attention watching as Jin parts his honey thighs just a little in invitation. His cheeks are rosy as he raises an eyebrow at them.

“Well? Who’s next?”

Three hands shoot into the air. Then after a moment, you shakily raise your hand too.

~-~

Come tell me what you liked about this chapter!

Notes:

part of me did not like the intro of this chapter like at all, almost deleted all of it so many times but? it's so hard putting so much effort into parts of this series that i know will probably never see the light of the final version and then choosing to delete them, like yes the wordcount might be high and this stuff might be a little wordy but? people always wanted more of bily so even months later i'll give it to them.

so i re-read a really good fanfic that was set in like, victorian/viking stuff? and it totally altered my brain chemistry and i feel as though i was writing in a way thats a bit more like, old timey? maybe you can tell because i felt like this chapter was alot more like- flowy than usual.

honestly i'm super proud of the line "Flip-flopping until Jungkook can’t tell if it hurts too much to keep going or if it feels too good to stop." like ugghhhhhhhh thats a good one.

also the line 'each nickname more loving than your own name.' was a very very small refrence to call me by your name, just a little. i do think that the m/c is not very comfortable with her own name, or your name- whatever that may be like- it's very clear that i avoid using y/n as much as possible. i think it appears in the story a good like 10 times after almost a million words? (i double checked and it in fact appears 21 times in the entire story- thats actually mind boggling to me tbh)

the part where yoongi is talking about how healthy the m/c looks was directly inspired by a conversation i had with @trifoliumrex because her ideas are always always so impossibly good i can't resist putting them into the story.

if it's not clear, yoongi is definitly feeling the effect of the m/c's addictive slick and her hormones, he is equally as heat addled as the pack is, he's just never felt the true effects of an omega in heat before because he's never been mated to the person in heat so yeah- it's the mating mark! this won't be the last time we see him acting like an alpha because of the marks.

yoongi *his cock almost in the m/c* so who you fuckin? m/c: the fuck? you?

can we just apreciate how ridicilously hot it is that tae's tiddies jiggle when she growls like??? fuck me right?

now personally i love woumb fucking but i know it's not everyones cup of tea so i hope i skirted by it just perfectly

that moment where yoongi is talking about how there's no one alive whose felt her in heat is a direct dig at geumjae. yoongi does hate him a lot you know- even if he couldn't kill him.

i am so soft for boys that cum too quick but also have no refractory period like i am so into it it almost makes me feel like i'm not a lesbian. i think it's so /cute/.

tbh, i think it's actually fucking adorable how it's thoughts of namjoon penetrating the m/c that has yoongi cuming too soon. like fuck he's so into how namjoon fucks her and how big his cock is- do we think yoongi has a size kink and that that itch is scratched by namjoon fucking her? like just imagine at the begining it was namjoon fucking yoongi that got him off and then he goes out and gets a mate thats even smaller than him who could hardly take namjoon's cock at the begining...ugh i love that.

(tmi but) i always end up subconciously edging myself when i write smut chapters because obviously this is all stuff i'm into and i've got to sit and finish it and wait to like... take care of myself until after i'm finished or else my interest in writing goes away immideatly. i just know that if mommy tae where here she'd make me cockwarm her while i write the chapter and that is a fantasy i'm going to reward myself with later.

i think that this chapter sounds and feels alot different because the process was so drawn out and so much different than other chapters because i had to pause.

i realized while editing this that i needed more of hobi in it so! i hope you enjoy how the wordcount jumped!

yoongi is so horny but also hopelessly sentimental in this my god.

the m/c is so dumb and horny in this chapter like what do you mean she wants namjoon and tae's knot both at the same time? like she can't even take one of those at once without prep normally let alone both-

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hgfictionwriter · 2 days ago

Text

Self Control: Part Thirteen - Arrival

Jessie Fleming x Reader

Summary: After months of waiting, the moment is finally here. You and Jessie welcome your newborn daughter into the world.

Warnings: Difficult labour. Graphic birth. Language.

A/N: Thank you to everyone for sticking with me so long on this journey. And thank you to everyone who answered the poll about the baby's name weeks ago!

The final whistles blew and Jessie braced her hands on her knees as she took a moment to breathe. She looked up in disappointment at the scoreboard, but soon rallied and began high fiving her teammates.

She did her rounds around the pitch with the team to thank and greet the fans and the stadium lights shone brightly by the time she and the team started filtering into the tunnel.

She walked over to her cubby and retrieved her phone first thing. You were days away from your due date and knew to call the staff if you went into labour - they’d get Jessie off the pitch right away - still, she worried.

Two texts from you. No missed phone calls though. That was a good sign.

Jess. Contractions have started.

The midwife’s on her way. Don’t panic. My water hasn’t broken and we know this could be hours and hours. I’ll call if things escalate.

Jessie stood frozen. Her eyes were wide and her phone sat idle in her hand. She didn’t even think she was breathing.

Then, all of a sudden, she snapped back to the moment and spun on her heels in a rush to start gathering her things, inadvertently tripping over the bench and careening into Janine who was standing nearby.

“Hey!” Janine complained as she rubbed her shoulder. Jessie was already scrambling back to her cubby by the time the blonde even turned around.

“I-I’ve gotta go,” Jessie stammered as she shakily threw belongings into her backpack. She rushed towards the exit, belatedly realizing she didn’t have shoes on and cursed, running back.

“Whoa,” Janine frowned as Jessie tried to stomp into her shoes and soon haphazardly tried to guide them on with trembling hands. “Everything good?”

Jessie was short of breath as her eyes darted across the floor absently as she now palmed at her pockets.

“Where are my keys…,” she mumbled as she spun on the spot looking around wildly.

“Jess,” Janine spoke firmly as she waved in the girl’s face, belatedly drawing Jessie’s attention up to her. Janine spoke measuredly. “What’s going on?”

Jessie’s mouth was dry as she opened it to speak, nothing coming out initially. “Y/N-Y/N’s in labour.”

“Oh shit,” Janine said, her own eyes growing wide before more shock settled in. “Wait. When?!”

“I-I don’t know!” Jessie replied, voice and emotions rising. “During the game sometime?” Her words tapered as she absently fetched her phone in an attempt to check the timestamp of your message, but fumbled it onto the floor instead. “Fuck.”

“Okay, hold on,” Janine said holding up both hands. Jessie dodged around her and started tearing her bag apart looking for her keys.

“I have to go,” she said curtly.

“I will drive you,” Janine told her. “You’re…frazzled. Let me drive you home. You can reset on the drive.”

Jessie opened her mouth to speak as she tried to process the offer and the consequences of it. She found herself shaking her head before she could find the words.

“No. I - we need the car. If something goes wrong…,” she trailed off, now digging in her pockets again in vain.

Janine reached out and calmly grabbed keys off the shelf of her cubby.

“Looking for these?” She gave her a pointed look. “I’m driving you. I will drive your car and I can get a ride from one of the girls back to my place. Now let’s go.”

The blonde had Jessie by the arm as soon as she finished speaking and began calmly ushering her out of the locker room, quickly speaking to Sam and communicating the plan as she walked out. The locker room immediately erupted into a buzz of activity at the news, and Janine held up her arm to keep them at bay.

“You’ll get updates soon, I’m sure,” she called over her shoulder. “Baby Fleming will be here soon, everyone. But not too soon!”

Jessie’s heart raced and she peered over her shoulder to see the team wishing her and you luck and to call if you needed anything.

She felt jittery and like her limbs were numb as they walked briskly to her car. As she was getting in she saw Sam running out to her own car saying she’d follow so she could drive Janine back.

“Baby convoy!” Janine announced brightly as she started the car. Meanwhile, Jessie was still short of breath as she fumbled with the seatbelt.

She closed her eyes momentarily and took a deep breath, finally getting her seatbelt on and feeling her pulse start to even out.

“I can’t believe she didn’t call,” Jessie breathed as she pushed her head back into the headrest, palms braced on her thighs and eyes closed as she worked to steady her nerves.

Janine snickered slightly as she manoeuvred them towards the house.

“Sounds like you’re more panicked than her,” she teased, drawing a dark glare from Jessie.

“Or,” she drew out her word in emphasis, “she’s not taking this seriously enough. How can she be so nonchalant? What the fuck.”

“Get it out of your system, because you’re going to have to be calm and supportive from here on it,” Janine told her. She gave her friend a purposeful look as she drove. "And I know you - when shit gets crazy and there's chaos, you are the calm in all of that."

Jessie gave a shaky exhale before accepting with a few nods, trying to let Janine's words sink in and reassure her. She took one more steadying breath before bringing the phone up to her ear to call you.

The phone rang several times before you picked up. You'd hardly greeted her before Jessie spoke over you.

"Babe, why didn't you call me? Are you okay? Is the midwife there yet? How far apart the contractions? Are you alright?"

So much for calm.

"Jess." You spoke firmly, but patiently waiting her out and forcing a lull before continuing. "I am fine. No, Theresa's not here. Contractions are still 20 minutes apart and only lasting about 40 seconds. I talked to her though. It's just early labour. She'll come when I'm between 5 and 10 minutes, and that could be hours away."

A mixture of relief and apprehension flooded Jessie's system. You were fine. But at the same time, your contractions had started. It was time. And she wasn't there.

"Okay," she managed to say as she forced a smile and hoped it filtered into her voice as well. "I'm on my way right now. I'm probably 10 minutes away."

"Alright," you said. "Drive safe. You don't need to rush - just get here safely."

"Oh, well, Janine-"

"Oh fuck."

"What?" Jessie cut in, alarm cresting inside of her as she sat forward in her seat and her breath caught.

"Um," you said, "my water just broke."

"Oh fuck," Jessie echoed. She held out her hand to calm herself more than anything. "Okay. Okay - I'll be there right away, Y/N."

"Mmnh," she heard you grimace into the phone as a contraction hit you.

"Babe," Jessie said helplessly, leaning her elbow on her thigh and cupping her face. The line was silent and it was killing her. "How bad is it? Are you okay?"

"...Yep," you said through grit teeth. Jessie sighed in frustration.

"Baby, why didn't you call me?" She implored weakly. "I should be there right now. It's just a stupid football game. I love you and I should've been there this whole time with you."

"Mm, if it’s alright with you we can fight about this later. I’m trying to have your baby right about now," you said.

"Fuck. I'm sorry," Jessie said, her nerves immediately settling as she recentered herself. "We're only a few streets away. I'll be there soon, babe."

"I know, love," you said with an audible, drawn out breath. "Okay. It's over."

Jessie found herself exhaling along with you. She kept you company on the phone and soon pulled up to the front of your house.

"Call if you need anything," Janine told her as she got out of the car to give her a hug and give her the keys. "I'm serious."

"Yes, of course," Jessie said distractedly, her eyes focused on the front door and hurriedly drawing herself out of her friend's embrace to get to you. She was halfway down the walk when she turned, walking backwards still towards the door. "You're good to get home?"

"My ride's right here," Janine assured her as she pointed to Sam pulling around the corner. "You've got this! Give us updates when you can!"

"Alright," Jessie said with a series of rapid nods as she turned back around. She gave a vague wave and fumbled with the keys before opening the door. She swung it open and threw her bag down in the entryway.

"Y/N!" She called as she began to search the house.

“In here!”

Jessie spun around and jogged towards your voice. She rounded a corner to see you sitting on the couch, apparently in a fresh set of shorts, a hand on your stomach.

A rush of relief and adoration went through her just upon seeing you. She felt a calm rush over her despite everything. Now she was where she was supposed to be. No matter what happened, you were together and would navigate it all with one another.

She walked over and dropped to her knees in front of you. She hugged your middle as far as her arms would let her and peppered your face with kisses. She jostled as you chuckled and ran your fingers through her hair.

“Hi baby,” you greeted.

“Hi,” she said gently, eyes bright and almost teary as she pulled back to look up at you and take you in. She gave a slow shake of her head. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t here sooner. I-”

“Jessie. It’s okay. If I was worried or needed you to rush I would’ve called. We are perfectly okay,” you assured her, holding her gaze. “You know we could be going through this for a long time before something really happens.”

Jessie nodded reluctantly. It was true, but still.

“I just wanted to be here for you through all of it,” she went on before holding up her hands, palms out. “But, let’s move on.” You gave her a grateful look. “I’m here. And I’m not leaving your side. I’m here to do anything and everything you need while you do this incredible work to bring our baby into the world,” she said as she sat back enough to tenderly caress your taut stomach.

Just like their midwife and classes said, early labour was long and tedious. Movies and shows made it seem so sudden and fast, but in reality, at least for you, it was hours and hours of ever increasing pain.

You’d barely slept all night and she knew you were exhausted already, but things were poised to only escalate further; a cycle that would continue to close in and worsen.

As your contractions increased, she felt desperate to help, but was entirely powerless. It broke her heart to see you in so much pain, knowing it was her fault in a way and she couldn’t share the burden at all.

“Ooo,” you breathed steadily and audibly, your hands on your back and eyes closed as you walked in a slow circle in the living room, trying to walk through the pain and discomfort. Jessie trailed behind you, eyes trained on you, watching vigilantly for an opportunity to help or support.

Your steps stilled and your face screwed up in pain. You doubled over slightly, bracing your hands on your thighs and Jessie had her arm around you in a second, supporting your weight to hold you up.

“Mm,” you ground out, eyes still tightly shut and body tense as you rode out a wave of pain.

Jessie rubbed your lower back in an effort to provide some reprieve, however small. “Try not to forget to breathe,” she coached gently, not wanting to dictate things for you or discredit your efforts, but also still try to keep the coping strategies as forefront as possible to hopefully help you.

“Yes, dear,” you said tightly, your irritation not entirely veiled, as you let your head fall back. You breathed despite your complaint and she saw its effects as your body relaxed subtly.

When you’d finally rode out the contraction you went over and sat down on the yoga ball in the room with a heavy sigh and a small groan. Jessie came up behind you immediately and began massaging your back once more, earning a soft moan of appreciation as you rolled your hips back and forth.

“Oh my gosh,” you said. “She’s so low in my pelvis. It’s so much pressure.”

“That contraction was only five minutes apart. I’m going to call Theresa,” she told you as you distractedly nodded. She retrieved her phone and stood to walk a few feet away.

"Please don't go far," you beseeched as you peered over your shoulder at her retreating form. "I need you here."

Jessie turned around right away and returned to your side, placed her hand between your shoulders and began massaging your sore muscles there. "I'm right here, baby," she assured you and you immediately brought a hand up to her wrist, clinging to her and not letting go.

Jessie hung up a couple of minutes later and tucked the phone away in her pocket.

"She's on her way," she told you and you merely nodded again, eyes now trained on the ceiling in focus. "I'll go get you some more water," she went on and cracked a smile for you. "I'll be a minute tops. And I'll make sure it has lots of ice."

When she returned, you took the cup from her gratefully and Jessie knelt in front of you. Your arms came up around her shoulders right away and you leaned heavily on her, moaning and resting your head against hers. Her chest filled with warmth and she kissed your cheek.

You began to wince, another contraction coming on, your arms tightening around her. Jessie leaned up into you to better support your weight.

"Distract me," you told her, voice faintly strained. "Tell me something."

"Um, okay," she said as reached up around you to rub your back as best she could. She wracked her brain, annoyed that it was suddenly blank. Eventually she lit up as a thought popped up.

"Okay. Did you know that mangrove forests are incredibly effective at storing carbon? Up to four times more per hectare than tropical rainforests?" She asked.

You chuckled softly despite your discomfort. "You are such a nerd. I love you." Whatever moment of relief you had quickly dissipated and she felt your face fill with tension once more against her own. "Okay, that kind of worked. Tell me something else."

"Hmm. Alright. Um, in university Teagan and I were in her dorm and - I don't know how it started - but we were competing to see who could balance longer on a basketball. She couldn't even fully stand up, so I, of course, was like, 'Yeah, I can absolutely do that' - I stood up, but went flying a moment later, like feet flying right out under me, the ball shot across the room and and busted this floor lamp and, I just ricocheted off the nearby bed, arms flailing and hitting the floor. So I won - but at what cost," she finished with a short laugh.

"Oh my god," you laughed, before clutching the underside of your stomach with a heightened wince. "Oh shit - that hurts. Okay, nothing funny," you said, though a smile still lingered despite the pain.

"Oh shit," Jessie said with an apologetic smile as she caressed your stomach and kissed your head once more. Her smile shifted into a smirk. "Well, if you didn't want anything funny, you shouldn't have gotten engaged to such a jokester."

You laughed again, wincing once more and nudging her. "Oh yeah, you're a regular comic."

"Um, okay. How about this? Remember how your team invited me to that sustainability event - long before our first date. And I came and we had some drinks and we started talking about [y/favourite show]?"

"Mhmm." You nodded against her.

"And remember how I said I loved that show?"

You nodded once more, still clinging to her.

"I kind of lied," Jessie admitted. She felt your grip on her change and she went on quickly. "I loved it! But I'd just overheard you gushing about it with your coworker on that call we all had a week before, so I binged it and read up on it before the event so I'd be able to talk to you about it. I was only like a season and half in by the event though - so I just read all the spoilers so we could talk at length about it. I was just so nervous and I wanted to make sure I could keep our conversation going and I'd have something interesting that you wanted to talk about!"

By the time Jessie finished your contraction had waned and you leaned back to give her a scrutinizing look that dissolved into a laugh.

"You're ridiculous. I enjoyed talking with you about so many things. Still do. Like when you talk about freakin mangroves." You smirked. "Well, since we're confessing. I did an awful lot of Googling about soccer after I met you the first time. Didn't want you to think I was completely clueless."

Jessie beamed, but it transformed into a mischievous grin a moment later. She shrugged her shoulder teasingly. "I could kinda tell."

"Hey!" You complained as you swatted playfully at her. "I'm in labour," you declared dramatically. "I'm having your baby! You're supposed to be nice to me right now."

Jessie laughed and kissed you. "You know I'd do absolutely anything for you."

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

The midwife arrived and your labour continued. More hours wore on and there were moments where exhaustion threatened Jessie as well, especially coming right off of a game last night, but she pushed it aside to focus on and tend to you. Theresa did force her to take a few breaks here and there, but as far as Jessie was concerned, you didn't really have the choice to take breaks, so neither would she.

"Oh fuck," you breathed as another contraction hit you. The last one had only ended a few short minutes ago and you'd barely had a chance to recover before another washed over you.

You had your hands clasped around the back of Jessie's neck, both of you standing as she supported you while you hung down off of her. You grimaced in pain and your body trembled despite her holding you up. Sweat beaded across your forehead and you were pale.

She held you steady as you rocked, suspended from her shoulders, trying to find any ounce of relief as you rode out the wave.

"I need to lay down," you said in a shuddering voice as the contraction ended. You were weak, struggling to stand up in her arms now and leaned heavily on her as she ushered you towards the bed. She set you gently down on the edge and grabbed a towel to dab at the sweat on your brow.

She and the midwife got you settled onto the bed, a wall of pillows behind you to help you sit up. Your chest heaved up and down as you struggled.

"There's so much pressure," you winced. "Mmh. I feel like I need to push."

"Let's check your progress," Theresa said. Your legs were spread already, the only remotely comfortable position for you right now. "9 centimeters still," she said as she drew back a gloved hand and looked to you both. "Your contractions are getting closer and closer though. You'll be able to push soon."

You groaned heavily, nearly sobbing as your head rest listless against the pillows behind you. "Jessie," you cried her name feebly and she climbed up next to you on the bed in a flash, grasping your hand and holding it tightly.

"I'm too hot," you panted, hand clutching hers and the other clutching the sheets repeatedly in visible discomfort.

"Okay, baby," Jessie said with a series of dutiful nods and went to go grab you a cold, wet cloth, but you tightened your grip on her urgently.

"No, please don't go. Don't leave me," you whined and not even able to open your eyes as you fought through the relentless pain.

"I'm right here, baby. I'm not going anywhere. I'm with you," Jessie assured you without hesitation. A strange feeling came over her at seeing you, this woman who was so stubborn and independent, brought to this point where you were unabashedly clingy and desperate. It made sense and she was happy to cater to you, but it spoke to the level of distress you were in.

She looked to Theresa and the woman waved her off immediately, silently assuring her to stay and leave the task to her.

A clipped cry fell from your lips as a new contraction hit you. You tensed up and all Jessie could do was knead your tired muscles and do her best to serve as an anchor for you in this flurry of physical agony.

Your breathing was rapid and shallow and tears pricked at the corner of your eyes. You writhed in place and Jessie could see how you ground your teeth together. She reached up with her free hand to slowly, but firmly rub the center of your chest, hoping to subtly steady your breathing.

It was torture for her to see you like this. Grimacing in increasing pain for hours on end and knowing it was going to get worse before it would get better.

Your whole relationship, her only goal was to make your life easier, softer, more comfortable. And here you were in the greatest pain of your life and it was all her fault. She felt horrible.

"Oh fuck," you eventually whimpered as the contraction seemingly faded. Theresa returned with the cold compress and Jessie took it as she moved in closer to you and pressed it to your forehead. You turned into her and whimpered further.

"You're doing so good, baby," she said as she kissed the top of your head and held a cup of ice chips up to your mouth. You chewed a couple before pushing her hand away.

"Remember how I said I can’t wait until she’s here? I changed my mind.”

Jessie spied the faintest hint of a smirk on your lips. She kissed your head again, amazed that you could find the capacity for some kind of humour during such a time.

You pushed yourself up on the bed further and grimaced again. "Oh fuck." You doubled over in pain once more, clutching your rounded stomach. "I really feel like I need to push."

"You can't just yet, sweetie," Theresa said gently.

You groaned and you tugged on Jessie's arm to pull yourself forward. She watched the movements you were telegraphing and helped you onto your hands and knees. You immediately leaned your head down onto your folded arms, your legs spread wide, belly pressing into the bed as you moaned into the contraction.

Jessie rubbed your lower back and leaned forward to kiss your shoulder. You whimpered in response as you continued to labour on all fours.

You rocked subtly back and forth for several more waves of contractions until you let out a low, muffled yell.

"Jess. Jess - I can feel her. She's moving down," you panted.

She looked to Theresa in concern and the midwife checked your progress once more.

"Okay, sweetie. It's time - you're at 10 cm. When you feel the urge, you can go ahead and push."

You let out a small whimper and straightened your arms as you breathed heavily, preparing yourself. Jessie kissed the side of your head, lips lingering.

"You've got this, my love. You're amazing. You're so strong. I'm right here with you," Jessie said, ignoring the way her own pulse quickened at the prospect of what was to come.

You panted, eyes closed and still in such pain as you awaited the opportunity to push. She leaned forward slightly to keep watch of your face as she continued to knead your back and hips. Only a few seconds passed before your features screwed up and you tensed up, starting to push.

Jessie's nerves were beginning to fray as she realized what was happening.

You moaned as you bore down. Jessie shifted her attention to your entrance, though knowing it would be too early for any signs of your daughter appearing.

"Oh fuck," you cursed. You panted and your arms began to tremble. "S-she's coming Jess. Oh my God."

Jessie found herself smiling for some reason. She looked back up to you, "You're making it happen. You're incredible."

You continued to push until the contraction waned and your body grew limp, Jessie reaching out to help support you.

"That was great, Y/N. Just like that again next time, okay? You've got this. And if you need to change positions you tell us - we're here," Theresa said and you nodded faintly.

The next contraction came and you bore down once more. When it ended, you shook your head. "I need to sit back," you said, palming around looking for Jessie's hand. She reached out quickly to grasp your hand and began guiding you back. "I want you behind me." Jessie nodded and sat back against the pillows and nestled you in between her legs and you leaned back against her chest.

"This okay?" She asked as she pulled you tighter against her. You nodded rapidly, turning your head against her shoulder and burrowing against her as you pulled her arm across your chest and gripped her forearm with one hand, the other hand gripping her thigh.

Another groan fell from your lips as you began to push once more, your fingers digging into Jessie's arm and leg. Jessie sat up with you to help you push.

"You're doing so good," she whispered over your grunts as she gently thumbed your shoulder.

When the contraction ended you melted into Jessie's embrace and she continued to gently caress you. She steadied her breathing as she encouraged you to try to do the same and was pleased when your chest went from rapidly rising and falling to something calmer.

"Oh, Jess. She feels so big. Oh my God," you whimpered as you burrowed your face into her further. Jessie kissed the side of your head and Theresa spoke up.

"You're having a big baby, Y/N. It's going to be a lot of work, but you are prepared, you're doing amazing, and Jessie is here with you to help you every step of the way. You're making progress."

Jessie watched as your face fell and your rolled your head against her shoulder.

"Mmh, how did someone so small put such a big baby in me?" You complained. Jessie could do nothing other than apologize, but to her surprise you managed a feeble chuckle. "She's healthy. She has to be healthy." Your face fell again and Jessie saw emotions taking over.

"She's healthy, babe. You've done an amazing job of growing and caring for her. That's all you," Jessie told you. She was going to assure you further when your hand came up behind her head and you curled inward to start pushing again, pulling her with you as you grimaced and tried to move your baby down.

This time, your groan evolved into a strained yell.

"Incredible, Y/N. She's right there, I can start to see her. You are doing so great, momma," Theresa said.

Your eyes opened and you looked back at Jessie in wonder as soon as the contraction ended.

"Do you want me to still...," Jessie trailed off, uncertainty taking her as she tried to anticipate what you wanted. You'd talked during birthing classes about her being the one to deliver your baby - with the help of Theresa, of course - but if you needed her to hold you, that's exactly what she'd do.

"Yes, yes," you answered quickly as you shifted slightly, wordlessly indicating for her to move. Jessie carefully moved out from behind you, kissing your shoulder as she went and hurriedly propping up the pillows behind you to better support you. Theresa moved aside slightly, giving Jessie an affirming nod as she positioned herself between your spread legs.

She looked at your entrance, lips still closed and the head not yet visible between pushes.

"Here, make sure she's lubricated," Theresa said as she handed the oil over to Jessie. She took it silently and began to massage your lips and perineum with the oil to help your baby move down and reduce the risk of you tearing.

She was continuing to massage you until you sat forward once more and began pushing. Jessie held your leg and you reached forward gripping her shoulder and leaning on her as you grunted.

Her eyes grew wide as suddenly a small teardrop began to form at your entrance and the first glimpses of your baby together began to appear. A rush of elation and trepidation ran through her.

"S-she has hair," Jessie told you excitedly as she looked up at you. Despite your concentration and effort, you opened your eyes to look at her and a feeble smile crossed your face before you grimaced once more and continued pushing.

"Oh my God. Y/N - you're doing it - you're moving her down. I can see more of her. You're doing so amazing," Jessie praised, tears suddenly pricking at her eyes.

"Oh God," you panted, fingers digging painfully into Jessie's shoulder. "Oh fuck, it hurts, Jess. Oh my God," you said as your lips began to slowly bulge and stretch around the burgeoning head. Jessie gently braced your entrance in support at the instruction of Theresa.

"I know, baby, but you're doing so good," Jessie coached you and you fell back, collapsing against the pillows again during a brief reprieve from the rolling onslaught of contractions. She looked down between your legs to see the baby's head had retracted completely within your tunnel again.

"Jessie," you whimpered in exhaustion and frustration.

"I know, love," she said gently as she kissed your knee and then quickly dabbed your forehead with another cold compress again.

Almost as soon as the last contraction ended, a new one started and you leaned against Jessie's shoulder again as you bore down. She watched as the head reappeared, much quicker this time and soon stretching you wider and anew. She applied more oil to your lips and supported them as they pulled tightly around the head as it crowned.

"Oh it's burns!" You cried as your lips were stretched taut around the large head of your baby.

"You're so close, Y/N," Jessie tried to sooth you. "I can see so much of her."

This time, the head didn't retract as your contraction faded. The progress remained, but that also meant that the head was lodged at your entrance, stuck in a crown and stretching you unbelievably wide. Jessie was absolutely in awe of what your body was doing and achieving right now.

During birth class, many of the partners were squeamish and tentative, but Jessie was curious and attentive. She wanted to know what to expect so she could support you as unwaveringly as possible. She wanted to be ready for this moment so she could be present and be there for you in any way you needed.

And here you were, the woman she loved most in the world, the one she wanted to spend the rest of her days with. The moment was here - you were finally delivering your baby here in your bed, the same one she was conceived in all those months ago.

Jessie massaged your thighs as you groaned in pain, legs quivering.

"I-I can't," you panted as you gave a weak shake of your head.

"You can. You're doing so incredible. You are so, so strong. I know it's hard, but you are almost there, I promise," Jessie told you as she leaned up to give you a kiss on the forehead. Your hand shot up to cup the back of her neck and hold her there. She kissed you again. "I love you so much. Thank you. Thank you for bringing our baby into the world. You are the most incredible woman. I love you so, so much."

You grunted, leaning forward and curling into yourself in another push.

To Jessie's shock and amazement, she saw your lips stretching impossibly further, the skin now white and bloodless from the tension.

"It hurts so much," you cried helplessly. "It's burning so bad."

The stretching continued until you released a scream and the head popped out with a rush of fluid. You gasped, body jolting at the momentary reprieve.

"Oh my gosh," Jessie nearly cried, hand out supporting the head of her baby and seeing her for the first time. She reached out and grabbed your hand to bring it down to the head as well. You began whimpering, tears forming in your eyes as you felt her and looked at Jessie. "She's almost here."

"One or two more good pushes and your baby will be here," Theresa said with a smile.

When it was time, Jessie saw a new level of focus cross your face and you began to push. She held her hands out, guiding her baby as a slow yell filtered up your throat as the shoulders began to stretch your entrance out.

"You're almost there," she encouraged, ignoring the way your fingers dug painfully into her shoulder.

The shoulders appeared and with a final push, Jessie caught your baby in her hands, a scream coming from you and a gasp from her.

Suddenly, a new cry filled the room. Jessie's eyes were absolutely transfixed on this small, brand new being, wriggling and crying in her hands.

"Oh my God," she breathed as she stared at her daughter. She was here. Finally here. Something that started off as a wish so many months ago was now entirely real. A permanent, physical manifestation of the love you and her had for one another; a perfect mix of herself and you. 10 fingers, 10 toes, a cute little face and a head of dark wispy hair.

"She's here, baby," she said in awe, belatedly aware of the tears streaming down her face as she very gingerly lifted your daughter and oh so carefully laid her on your chest.

You sobbed as you took her and Jessie cuddled in with you both, eyes still not leaving your little girl.

"Oh my God, she's beautiful," you said as you gently caressed her cheek as her strong cries filled the room. "Riley Fleming - we love you so much."

Jessie felt like her heart could burst as she took in every little detail about your daughter. She gave the easiest smile of her life.

"She's absolutely perfect."

A/N: This is not the conclusion of the series; however we are very close. I have two more chapters for you.

#jessie fleming #jessie fleming x reader #woso x reader #woso imagine #canwnt x reader #wlw fiction #birth fiction

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 1 day ago

Text

Meet the Family 2

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your boss needs a last-minute favour for the holidays.(petite!reader)

Characters: Lloyd Hansen

Note: I love writing toxic people.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

“Mr. Hansen--” You begin, choking on your error, “Lloyd, my flight--”

“Christ, I told you, cancel it. I’ll add the difference to your next check,” he grits under his breath.

You plant your feet, shifting despite your effort as he keeps his grip on your hand. He turns back with a grunt.

“What’re you doing?” He asks.

“No, what are you doing?” You throw back. “What the hell is going on?”

“First, watch that sweet mouth of yours. Second, we’ve been through this, Pixie pie. You just need to play along,” he keeps his voice low and peeks over his shoulder. “Loosen up a bit.” He loosens his hold on you and runs his hand up your sleeve. “Hm, I guess I shoulda told you to dress up a bit.”

“What?” You look down at your black cotton tea-length dress. You chose it for comfort but it’s not entirely frumpy. The ribbed stockings might not add much to the attire however.

“Just...” He grabs your shoulders and nudges them back, “push the chest out a bit.”

“Ugh,” you clasp onto his wrists, “stop. Okay. I’ll stay for dinner but I can’t miss my flight--”

“You have to,” he argues.

“You realise this is wildly inappropriate,” you say.

“Do you really expect anything different?” He tweaks a brow. “You’re staying. I’m not doing this alone. I put it off for a decade already--”

“Jesus--”

“No blasphemy either,” he lets go of you and presses his finger to your lips. You growl and shove his hand away.

“I want a bonus, a big bonus--”

He hushes you and waves his hands. He leans back and once more looks over his shoulders. “Later. We’ll deal with numbers in private. Right now, you need to come meet your in-laws.”

You squint at him. It’s an act, you remind yourself, but something about his commitment to it makes you uneasy. You know better than to believe a word that comes out of his mouth but there’s a degree of earnestness in him that’s unsettling.

“Baby, please, don’t look at me like that,” he steps closer, “I need you to look at me like I’m the second coming, okay? We’re madly in love, you and I.” Your eyes widen and he sighs, “okay, you’re not scared of me.”

You neutralise your expression and blow out a long breath. You shake away the tension and shrug. It’s as good as you can do.

“Here,” he grabs your wrist and turns, guiding your arm through his, “just smile pretty for me.”

He hooks your elbow with his and urges you onward. You steel yourself for the room of strangers as their voices drift through the archway.

You enter the front room and quickly scan the space; there’s a large-mouthed hearth, lit and draped in evergreen and berries; a long cream sectional, a matching duo of armchairs, and a chaise in the same shade; a low glass coffee table with a golden perch and a console table in a similar style along the wall crowded with bottles and crystal; an area rug in a smooth white with patterns in dulcet beige and rich butterscotch; and the low din is cast by tea lights daintily set around the space in glass holders and candelabra.

More pressing than the decor are the bodies that fill the room. You recognise Ransom as he speaks with an older woman with short white hair and thick-framed glasses. She wears a red pantsuit with a gold blouse. Very festive.

You glance over at Lloyd and take him in fully. You hadn’t paid much attention for the whirlwind all around. He wears a pair of evergreen slacks and a sweater with a reindeer's face on the front. He wouldn’t even let you put tinsel on your desk but now he’s dressed like a kid in a holiday parade.

“Looks like someone didn’t get the memo,” a tall blonde woman approaches with a glass of pale wine in hand. You try not to look with concern at her rounded middle; it sticks out starkly as her long limbs are thin and lithe. “A very grim Christmas indeed.”

“Lillian,” Lloyd faces the woman about his own height. She has his eyes and his lips. You assume their relation before he declares it. “My sister, Pixie,” he gestures to her carelessly.

“Older sister,” she preens and rests her hand on her swollen stomach. Your eyes flick away from the crystal in her hand.

“By about thirty-one seconds,” Lloyd scoffs.

“Oh, sweetie, it’s non-alcoholic,” she swirls the wine in her glass, “she’s so tiny and quiet.”

“Ahem,” you clear your throat, “it’s nice to meet you.”

She laughs, “oh, so polite. Entirely not his type.”

You try not to react. You agree. You know the women that Lloyd really likes. You’ve screened their calls until they just give up on getting a second date.

“Believe it or not, Lil, you’re not everyone’s type,” Lloyd retorts. “I think your ex-husband would agree. The second one too.” Lloyd lifts his chin and looks around, “is the third here or are we on number four?”

“Lovely,” she spits. “Love you too, brother.”

He shakes his head and draws you away from her. She raises her brows and her glass and sips. You let him take you away. You already despise most of these people. The room radiates with derision. Your family might have some grudges but there’s a general air of good will.

“I need a drink,” he mutters.

You gladly follow him to the table. He pours himself a tumbler from the boxy decanter. He sighs as he picks it up but stops himself from drinking.

“Well, help yourself,” he says.

You hesitate but not for long. You need something if you’re going to get through this. You pour yourself some chardonnay and sidle away from the table. You check your watch as you raise your glass.

“Don’t fucking worry about your flight,” he hisses under his breath. “If I’m not getting out of this, you aren’t either.”

“But why?” You ask behind the glass.

“Not right now,” he warns and nods at another figure as they approach. “Uncle Benson.”

“Junior,” the man returns. You drink your wine and don’t comment on the epithet. “Where’s the old man?”

“Where he always is,” Lloyd replies.

“Mm, and this is...” the older man looks at you pointedly, dipping his chin to do so.

“Pixie. My fiancee,” Lloyd answers dully, almost deflating.

“Benson,” the man offers his hand, “but a pretty girl like you can call me Benny.”

“Benny,” Lloyd repeats to himself in confusion.

You shake Benson’s hand, “um, thanks, nice to meet you.”

“Mm, very nice to meet you,” he lifts your hand and smushes his lips to your knuckles. He clings to you, petting your hand. “You’re gorgeous, what’re you doing with this lump?”

“Uncle,” Lloyd drones.

“Adorable,” Benson inches closer, “my inheritance is bigger than his, among other things.”

“Alright,” Lloyd snatches your hand away from him, “go have some water, Benson,” he growls, “think you’ve been into the brandy.”

“I’d like to get into something else,” Benson snickers.

You almost laugh, despite your disgust. You’ve heard that line before. Lloyd puts himself between you and the older man. “I think that’s why Carolyn filed the papers, huh.”

“Oh, you little twat,” Benson snarls. “Fine, fine, I’ll leave you to disappoint her on your own.”

Lloyd tuts and shakes his head as the man lumbers off. He turns around and drains his glass. It’s strange, seeing him in his natural habitat; he’s not so ‘alpha’ here.

“Let’s get the rounds over with.” He grumbles.

Your wine lasts you through the introductions. Two more uncles; Carter and Linus, along with their wives, Andrea and Angela. Then the full-blooded aunts; four of them, Raquel, Shanna, Beatrice, and Lana. All of them tall, blonde, and bold in their own way. Then a batch of cousins you can’t keep sorted; Ransom and his mother Linda, among them, with no explanation as to the rest of their tribe.

Lloyd pours himself more whiskey. You abstain from a refill and stand near the wall, observing the wilderness of entitled trust-funders. It explains so much yet inspires so many more questions. You never expected Lloyd to be the dark horse.

“Lonely?” The timbre startles you along with the twisting pinch on your ass.

You yipe and snag the attention of several sets of eyes around the room, not least of all Benson, drooling over another snifter of dark alcohol. You swat Ransom’s hand away and face him amid the row of laughter. Despite the airs they put on, your audience is more amused than appalled.

“Where’s your prince, huh?” Ransom asks. “All that whiskey and...” He holds up his index then lets it go limp, “don’t think it’ll be a very peppy after party, sweetheart.”

You sniff and cross your arms. These people are at least consistent, grossly so. It makes you wonder why Lloyd was so insistent that you watch your mouth, especially when you’ve never stooped to his level before.

“Is it much of a party if there’s only one attendee?” You counter.

He narrows his eyes and tilts his head, “what?”

“Nothing,” you shake our head. You don’t need to explain the joke. Besides, this is all fake. Don’t let it get to you.

“So, how long did he wait to put that ugly thing on your finger?” Ransom asks.

You shrug, “long enough.”

“Did he do the whole schtick? Get down on one knee? Put the ring in your wine glass?” He prods.

“I’ll let him tell the story,” you say.

“Hm, never knew a woman so unexcited about a wedding,” he snorts.

“Maybe I’m just unexcited by my company,” you back away as his hand jiggles at his side. You eye his fingers, wary of another pinch.

“Fine, marriage is boring anyways. What’s his favourite position? I always figured he lets the ladies do all the work,” he snickers.

You stare at him. Not quite as offended as annoyed. You could ask him which hand he uses but you are not letting Lloyd drag you that low. Why are you even letting him put your through this?

“Hugh,” Lloyd appears and slides his arm over your shoulders.

“Little L,” Ransom retorts dryly.

“Shut up,” Lloyd sneers as you resist the urge to shrug him off of you.

“Where were you then? Leaving your woman all on her lonesome,” Ransom rubs his fingers together subtly and you scowl at him.

“Broke the seal,” Lloyd deflects. “What do you care? You wanna hold it next time?

“Hands are too big,” Ransom cackles.

“Speaking of,” you pipe up. “The bathroom, where would that be?”

Lloyd clucks and looks down at you, “down the hall, opposite the kitchen.”

“Thanks,” you carefully slip away from him, “I’ll be back.”

“Wait,” Lloyd catches your arm and pulls you back. “Not without this.”

He leans in before you can react. He bends to press his lips to yours and you can’t repress a surprised squeak. He purrs and the vibration makes your skin crawl. What on earth?!

You part and ignore the stares you can feel all around. Not just from Ransom but the rest of the room. What is he doing? That’s so embarrassing.

You force a smile, “uh, be back.”

You spin and scurry away. That room, those people, are suffocating, and Lloyd, not least of all. You hide in the bathroom, locking the door, and you take the moment of stillness to think. Big mistake as it all starts to set in.

You drove all the way here under false pretenses. It’s believable that Lloyd would forget to bring the gifts. That tracks but this? The whole pretending to be engaged? What is his game? Is he really trying to impress anyone or is he torturing you? Why?

You can’t figure any of it out. You gave up trying to understand your boss ages ago, you suppose you should do the same with these people and just get through this. For all your trouble, the food better be fucking delicious.

You let yourself out of the bathroom and flatten against the door as you nearly collide with another person. Lillian nearly stomps right over you as she holds her stomach and rushes down the hallway. She lets out a sigh.

“Oh, are you done in there? I’m splitting at the seams,” she trills.

“Um, yeah, all done,” you sidle away from the door.

“Could I trouble you for some help?” She asks. “This thing,” she pats her stomach, “I can get down but I can’t get up.”

“Hm?” You furrow your brow in confusion, “help?”

“We’re both girls,” she giggles. “And we’ll be sisters soon enough, won’t we?”

“Um.”

“You know, a pregnancy at my age, I really can’t strain myself,” she explains.

“Oh, er, I guess--”

“Thanks, sweetie,” she nudges you back into the bathroom. You have no choice as she heard you through.

You stare at the wall as she slams the door and hustles over to the toilet. She pulls up her white dress and turns to sit, her silhouette a blur in your peripheral. You flick your eyes to the ceiling and bounce on your heels.

Her stream flows out and fills the tense silence. She sighs.

“Thank the lord,” she groans. “I swear, the little twerp is right on my bladder right now.”

“Mm,” you nod and glance at the door.

“I knew we should’ve gone with a surrogate,” she sniffs. “A piece of advice, when he puts one in you, make him suffer.”

“Puts one...” you blink. “Um, I don’t...”

“I mean, he’ll have to start trying as soon as the wedding night,” she laughs. “He’s getting up there. His swimmers won’t be as fast, will they? And the way he drinks, they’ll be too groggy to know which way is which.”

“Um, we’ll worry about the wedding first--”

“Enjoy it. Once you’re tied down, it’s not very much fun,” she says as she tears of tissue. “Alright then, darling, I need you.”

You do your best not to see all of her. She reaches for you and you get close. You pull her up to her feet and she squeezes past you to the sink. You look at the toilet and shut the lid, flushing it with a push of the button. She washes her hands with a hum.

“You’ll be so adorable when you’re big. Like an overstuffed teddy bear,” she chimes. “He’ll love that. He always did hate feeling small.” She twists off the faucet and dries her hands. “You must make him feel like the man he wishes he was.”

You just look at her. You have no true reason to defend Lloyd, but because she’s so smug it irks you. You look her in the face, even if you feel ridiculous having to look up.

“Well, he can piss on his own, so I think he’s just fine,” you step around her and swing open the door. The silence that follows you is the only satisfying thing about that night.

#lloyd hansen #dark lloyd hansen #dark!lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen x reader #series #fic #meet the family #the gray man

157 notes · View notes

you-know-honey · 10 hours ago

Text

Green Vibes

Viktor x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 4k

Viktor is on the verge of collapse because of work, so you will “prescribe” him an unconventional method.

Warning: Mention and use of drugs (Weed). Sexual tension (I don't know if it counts, judge for yourself)

N/A: English is not my native language, feel free to correct me in the comments and I will update it. Remember to share if you liked it.

Translation of the request: The reader shows Viktor the joints

You bent down to pick up the twelfth crumpled ball of paper that rolled across the floor to throw it in the trash can.

As an assistant it was your duty to help with the less interesting tasks of being a visionary inventor. And that meant keeping things tidy and clean.

Which used to be the biggest burden, Jayce was a master at leaving important things lying around, his desk was always full of papers, notebooks, screw and bolts.

It was like being his babysitter, once he left at nightfall, you stayed to tidy up.

You wanted to go home and… try a new ‘relaxant’ you had bought, but it seemed like that would have to wait. Or maybe not…

Viktor always stayed too late at the lab, so while you cleaned up and complained about the mess of Jayce, he was always there, silent or chatting a little with you when he decided to take a break, something very rare for him.

But now he was really focused, mumbling things that aren't so nice to hear while writing in his notebook, then he got upset and hit the table a little before tearing off the sheet and throwing it to the floor. He's been like this for the last few hours, it seems like he could burn everything down if his formulas don't start making sense soon. It's weird to see him like this, normally he's someone who could have infinite patience, you suppose he has it with everyone except himself.

You approached his desk discreetly, as if you were tidying up a bit. You carry with you your usual relaxed energy, maybe you could spread some of your spirit to him.

"Viktor!" your shout surprised him, making his back tingle like a cat's "You look like you're about to pop a vein, are you okay?" they say with a soft smile.

Viktor guides his gaze from your hands on his desk to your face, you look at him with a calm smile, as if you hadn't just almost stopped his heart, it's always like that, there's no other way you could smile at him and if you think back he's the only person you really smile at.

He answers with a snort, rubbing his temples.

“Of course not. If I was this dam- prototype would work” he refrained from saying a rude thing, you knew him, for him, saying a rude thing meant he was losing his composure and that was something he never did “I'm starting to think that magic is more logical than science.”

He sighed, showing that he was quite exhausted, the dark circles under his eyes supported that conclusion. His thin hands combed his hair as if that would refresh his ideas before falling on his desk again.

That squeezed your heart a little and made a curious idea cross your mind, reflected in a malicious smile.

You let your hands wander across the desk, between the open papers and notebooks, to Viktor’s hands that were clenched into fists. “What you need is not more work. You need to relax…”

Viktor's body was the victim of a shiver when he felt your fingers approach his hand, his heart skipped a beat when he felt how your fingers tried to loosen their grip on his fist and finally succeeded. He tried to stay still, as if the slightest movement would push you away like a little bird, his gaze followed each of your movements in his hand, caressing his palm and playing with his fingers.

Was he surprised by your attitude? Yes. It was something he had never expected from you. You used to play little jokes on him, like shouting his name or throwing a pencil on the floor to get him out of his almost absolute concentration but... touching him? That was new. Sure, you were the secretary of both of them but you always had to run after Jayce because he was like a clueless child, even Viktor knew that. With him you weren't like that at all, you always gave him his space and kept your distance all the time. That had always made him feel uncomfortable, like he didn't belong to whatever was forming when you and Jayce were together, like he was a sour shadow life to the sidelines of happiness.

“Can I help you with that?” you asked in a whisper.

“I guess so…” He seemed nervous and that increased even more when he felt your hand go up his arm to his shoulder, where with both hands you did small massages on his shoulders and neck. You used to give Jayce massages when he was frustrated and a part of Viktor had always felt a little jealous of that, although he didn't want to admit it, it seemed unfair to him, Jayce had Mel and he really didn't get tired of talking about how wonderful she was and yet he also had you, always fluttering around him, always laughing with you, always accepting your merely friendly touch, always...always making you smile...he wants that.

He couldn't help but gasp when the pressure on his body began to disappear, his body was also enjoying it, after all it was the first time he could feel your touch beyond accidental brushes. He was grateful that you were behind him, he was sure that if you could see his face he couldn't hide how much he was enjoying it.

You looked over your shoulders at your bag hanging on one of the racks next to the door, next to Viktor's jacket. It was time to take advantage of that small purchase. You slid your hands to his neck, massaging even under his hair, making your way and disarranging his shirt in the process until you touched his warm and soft skin. Viktor's hand quickly went in search of his cane, when a shiver ran through him from head to toe with force, the emptiness in his lungs reminded him that he should breathe. But even with that wave of emotions, what he felt the most was the absence of your hands on him.

He quickly turned in his chair to look for you, his eyes traveling around the lab until he saw you near the entrance.

“No…” he muttered to himself as he grabbed his cane and let his shoulder rest on it, hurrying to get to you, but when he had you in front of him the words got stuck in his throat. “Are you leaving already?” he asked, it was the only thing his nervous mind had been able to formulate.

You turned back to face him, hiding something in the palm of your hand, a playful smile spread across your face as you shook your head. “No, I just came… to get something.”

“Oh…” he felt like an idiot, there was no lie that could justify him basically going after you like a lapdog. So he just stayed silent looking for something that would draw his attention more than the shame he felt and he found it, in your hands. “What are you trying to hide?” He asked at your poor attempt to hide what you were carrying in your hands. That helps him regain his composure and look you in the eyes again with confidence.

“It’s a secret” your tone is playful as you dodge him, close enough to smell his coffee and caramel aroma. Your movements are full of grace, even when you bring an extra chair to his desk and push his research away with a slight carelessness.

He can’t help but compare you to a dancing nymph, the air that sneaks through the open window and the bright moonlight support that idea in his head, he doesn’t even mind that some of his papers fly in the wind to his feet, he feels it as if they mark a path to you. Viktor doesn’t hesitate for a moment to return to his desk, shaking his head as a shy smile crosses his face, he can’t help it, it’s what you provoke in him.

He lets himself fall on the seat in front of you, your body shivers with the friction of the metal device on his leg against your knee, he seems to notice it and self-consciously takes a little distance, but you used your foot to work his chair into place before basically having him on the other side of the desk.

“Are you ready to try something really relaxing?” You ask excitedly.

Your gaze is unmistakably on him, finally, his mind screams excitedly and he hides it very well with a nervous movement of his good leg.

“What is that?” He asks finally, he's not good at enduring mysticism.

You open your hands with the same excitement as a circus tent opens to show an endless number of wonders. There's a yellow metal box with rainbow stickers and happy faces painted with marker. Inside there was a green mass and another brown compacted, a lighter, small filters and small papers.

You laughed a little at his attitude. “It's a relaxation method. You're going to like it. Well... maybe not, but you have to try it.”

Viktor massages his chin while he analyzes everything, he has that skeptical look full of curiosity again, you can see the nuts and bolts in his mind turning.

“It's weed.” you confess, his eyes widen and search your gaze quickly, his eyes reflecting surprise. “Oh come on Viktor, what is science if not experimenting with new things? It counts as research.” The tone in your voice is playful, as if you're amused by the situation.

“What effects does it have?” If there was one thing Viktor never dabbled in, it was drugs. Even with his illness, he never thought about trying them. Not because he didn't know about them, they just didn't spark his interest. "I didn't know you were on drugs..." he murmurs, feeling a little foolish, he didn't consider you to be close friends so it's not like you had to tell him about it. A thorn of jealousy stung him when a voice in the back of his mind mentioned that maybe Jayce did know that and many other things about you.

"I don't, it was... a recent purchase, I just know that they relax you and make you feel really good for a few hours." You sigh and rest your head on your outstretched arm on the desk. "Do you want to try it? I mean, we can try it together if you want..." you say as your hand plays with a pencil near you. You don't want to look him in the eyes, you fear meeting a stern look and a big reproach.

"Sure, why not." was his answer, simple and perhaps a little nervous.

“This is going to be fun.”

Viktor watches you carefully as you roll the joint, studying your every action. He watches your hands take the thin, almost translucent paper that shines a little under the moonlight, watching it spread between your fingers as you make sure the sticky side is facing up and out. He look at your hands, soft and the shiny rings on them, and only one thought escapes you.

“I’d like to feel them…”

“What?” you reply to such an unexpected comment.

“Nothing,” he quickly says. “I was rambling,” he tries to justify himself, and you seem to believe him for a second.

“Okay…” Your movements were nervous, caused by the intensity of his gaze, making you more and more nervous about being the center of his absolute attention this time. You delicately crumble the buds. The sticky texture of the resin tried to stick to your fingers, releasing an earthy aroma, you take a bit of tobacco and crumble it up and let it rest on the grass. You take a small little filter and place it on one end. With agile fingers you lift the paper and begin to shape it, making sure everything is well distributed, you roll the paper and Viktor’s soul seems to leave his body when he sees you licking the edge before sealing it with a clean movement. His thoughts are reflected on his face as a faint blush spreads across his cheeks and his Adam’s apple rises shakily.

You offer him the finished joint with a satisfied smile, you hoped you had done all the steps right. Viktor takes it delicately, as if he had just witnessed a sacred ritual.

“What exactly is in it?” he asks, hoping the answer will take his attention away from his own thoughts a little.

“Weed, tobacco, patience…and the desire to share” You joke as you take out the lighter and put everything in the box, before hiding it in one of the drawers of his desk.

Viktor plays with the joint in his hand for a while, examining it. “Should I put it in my mouth?” he asks as you nod softly.

“I’ll light it” you move your chair closer to him, just a few centimeters from each other, you take the lighter from the table and bring it close to his face, with the glow of the flame you can clearly see his blush and how straight he is in his seat “Relax, I’m not going to set you on fire.” you murmured with a soft laugh. He didn’t answer, he just brought his face closer to you, not to the flame of the lighter, your body paralyzed at such a reaction, it was you who brought the flame closer to him and gently lit the joint.

Viktor's first drag was a tragedy in itself, he coughed as if his soul was leaving them while his eyes were watery as if he was dying, he had inhaled it all at once and swallowed it, so it was like watching a chimney moan. You quickly went to his aid by taking the joint from him, taking him to the window to get some air and gently hitting his back to get the remaining humor out of his lungs. Even so, you couldn't help but laugh awkwardly, you tried to hide it so he wouldn't think you were laughing at him but then it was a thousand times more noticeable.

“This can't be healthy…” he mentioned, hitting his back against the wall next to the window.

“Not if you do it like that” you mentioned covering your laughter with your hand.

“Do you find it funny to see me dying in the smoke?”He asked, he didn't seem upset, he just had his arms crossed with a sarcastic attitude, letting his back fall against the wall in the arch of the window.

“No…” you muttered before stopping hiding your laughter and letting it out freely. He just smiled and looked out the window, he felt a little silly about everything that had happened but at least he made you laugh and that was something.

Viktor’s skin crawled as your hand suddenly cupped his cheek. “You have a tear,” you said, wiping the small droplet that rolled down his cheek with your thumb. His arms fell heavily to the sides of his body. Before he could react properly, he let himself enjoy the touch, your touch, the feeling of you coming into contact with his skin. Although it only lasted a few seconds, he could still feel your touch when you pulled away.

“I’ll do it first so you can see, okay?” you said. You took the joint between your fingers elegantly and put it between your lips. You inhaled and held it for a few seconds before letting it out slowly. The smoke fell from your mouth and the wind carried it to Viktor, enveloping it in a cloud of smoke before dissipating into the air.

You approached him with slow steps, taking one of his hands and leaving the joint between his fingers. “It’s your turn,” you said, raising his hand to his mouth, “remember, don’t swallow the smoke,” you said in a joking tone.

“Ha ha, funny.” He rolled his eyes and brought the joint to his lips this time. He took a deep drag and held it for a while, holding onto his cane to use his free hand for something.

You were on the lookout for everything, in case he choked on the smoke again.

“Exhale,” you rested your hand on his chest, the small jump his chest made when he felt your fingers against his clothes was clear to you. Smoke came out from between his thin lips like a waterfall, you left your hand against his chest until you felt him breathe again. “My turn,” you said, taking the joint and taking another drag.

After a few puffs, Viktor is more relaxed and begins to notice things he wouldn't normally comment on. He looks at you with the curiosity of a small child.

“You know, you're surprisingly good at… this” he says as he holds the joint ready for another puff. “I thought only Jayce could convince me to do something stupid, but you seem more effective.”

You laughs, it's a rather polite comment coming from him. “Are you surprised? I have my methods.” You reply mischievously.

“Your methods…” he stares at you for a moment and mutters almost to himself. “They should be exclusive.”

As the joint gets smaller, the effect becomes much more noticeable. Viktor's eyes blink slowly and open like a deer's, his pupils almost completely obscuring the warm iris in his gaze. It doesn't take long for him to let out his first ramblings. By this point, they're both sitting on the floor, each in their own corner of the window with their legs outstretched.

“I like your eyes,” he blurts out of nowhere, clinging to his cane as if he were going to fall off if he doesn't. “It's fascinating. Like…like…like you're catching light in a jar.” He says with the sweetest smile you've ever seen. You're a bit stunned by his words, used to the reserved and serious Viktor, this is all a new air, you play along.

“Wow, was that a compliment? I should write it down for posterity,” you say, laughing. You've received compliments before, from people much more sober than Viktor is now, but it's different, that compliment hits differently, behind all the cool and carefree facade that comment manages to pierce your heart and leaves you sighing for that new side of Viktor. As if you discovered how hungry you were to receive something from him.

Viktor replied, with a smile that exuded confidence “You don’t need to write it down. I can tell you whenever you forget.”

You sighed “You’ll regret that so much when you’re sober…” you said. You didn’t want to take his words seriously, after all, believing someone on drugs was like believing someone drunk and that almost never went well. But it was advice that your own mind threw away right now.

While they were talking, Viktor, under the effects of the joint, began to think things that he normally wouldn’t say. “Why are you always so comfortable with Jayce?” he asks, letting his head fall against the wall, leaving his neck and collarbones bathed in light on display.

Confused, you arch an eyebrow “What? Jayce and I are friends, and he’s my boss, it would be terrible if I didn’t get along with him. Why are you asking?”

Viktor turns his gaze to you, you can feel a huge chill as you become his target, his hand playing with the cane at his side.

“You always laugh with him. You always flutter around him.” He says with a certain bitter tone that you can’t quite decipher. “It’s like he’s the only one who can make you laugh, the only one who deserves to enjoy you. I wish to have that.”

His answer surprises and intrigues you at the same time, you lean a little towards him wearing a mocking smile. The window isn’t very big, so it’s not like you’re far away anyway. “Are you jealous, Viktor?” The way you taste his name like honey runs through every nerve in his spine.

He’s clearly blushing, but he doesn’t back down, after all he has nothing to lose, if something goes wrong he’ll blame the drugs for everything.

“Maybe I am. What’s wrong with wanting your attention for me alone? Can't I want you?”

His words momentarily silence you, surprised by his sincerity. Something he takes advantage of to get closer to you, something you never thought he would do, he leans on his cane and before you know it your legs are trapped between his, and his free hand rests on your shoulder, caressing his way to your neck with his fingers. He looks so… surprisingly desperate, his breathing is irregular and his grip on his cane is weak. Having him so close makes the heat emanating from his body combine with yours, your heart is racing to have him so close and you have to use all your will not to do something stupid.

“It’s frustrating, you know? Seeing how you have such a good time with him and then you’re just silent with me… Don’t I deserve your laughter? Don’t I deserve your company?” You don't know how it hurts to want you, to want your smile, to want your gaze only on me, to want your touch desperately and see how you give it to someone else..." A gasp escapes his face and his body collapses, falling on your hip making you gasp in shock, everything is a mess "Want me, just want me."

"Viktor... You're... you're drugged... You're not seeing clearly." Your heart officially stops, his weight is against you, you can't and don't want to move. Each of his words ignites something inside you that could devour everything in its path.

He laughs, maybe because of nerves, maybe because of the effect of the grass or the tingling that your hands leave behind on his body, but he just laughs "I see enough to not want to share you with anyone else."

His gaze, normally focused and distant, now burned with something that seemed uncontrollable. There was tension in the air, a pent-up hunger that exploded the moment your arms wrapped around his neck.

He didn't wait any longer. With a quick, determined movement, he pulled you close, his cane clattering against the floor as he forgot about everything but you. His lips met yours with an almost brutal force, colliding with the intensity of lightning in the middle of a storm.

The first kiss was a chaos of urgency. Your mouths sought each other out like there was no tomorrow, lips parted, deep gasps escaping between each encounter. Viktor pushed you against the wall, his heavy, ragged breathing echoing in your ears. His hands, normally careful, were now hungry, desperate. One moved up your waist, running down your back under the fabric of your clothes, while the other leaned against the wall, locking you against his body.

You let yourself go completely, your fingers burying themselves in Viktor’s brown, tousled hair. His lips moved in a chaotic rhythm, alternating between wet kisses, bites on your lower lip, and that feverish exploration of your tongues that lit up your entire body. The soft sound of your mouths colliding and your panting filled the air, accompanied by your hands that now ran over his chest, his abdomen, without stopping.

When Viktor broke the kiss, it wasn’t to break away, but to drag his lips down your jaw, down to your neck. There, he left a series of wet, almost wild kisses, lightly sucking on the skin with a wet sound that drew a moan from your throat.

“You are...” he murmured against your neck, his voice raspy, broken, “incredible. I don’t want to stop.”

His words felt like caresses, so charged with emotion that your body trembled under his touch. Viktor's hands now slid down your waist, slowly moving up, exploring it with a reverence laden with desire. Each touch was a reminder of how much pent-up passion this man so accustomed to solitude harbored for you.

"Viktor..." you gasped against his neck, but he took your mouth again, cutting you off with another fierce kiss.

The sound of rustling clothes, of uneven breathing, and Viktor's soft grunts as he lost himself in you filled the room. His body was completely pressed against yours, and every movement of his seemed to be aimed at etching his presence into you, as if he feared it could all fade away at any moment.

When they finally broke apart, their lips were swollen, and their chests rose and fell rapidly. Viktor's eyes, normally filled with logic and calculation, were now deep pools of desire and devotion, reflecting every emotion he couldn't put into words.

“This isn’t enough,” he confessed, his voice shaking slightly as he looked at you as if you were the only important thing in the world. “It will never be enough with you.”

Your breathing was still ragged, the air between you filled with an almost palpable heat. Viktor kept his forehead resting against yours, his eyes closed, while his hand remained firmly on your waist, as if letting go was unthinkable.

“This is dangerous...” Viktor murmured, although the tremble in his voice made it clear that the idea of stopping was an almost impossible challenge. His fingers continued to absentmindedly trace the curve of your back, as if his body refused to break contact.

“More dangerous than what you do with Hextech?” you replied in a whisper, sketching a slight smile, trying to lighten the tension of the moment.

Viktor’s response was caught in his throat when you both suddenly heard the echo of footsteps in the hallway. You both tensed instantly, your bodies rigid as if someone had thrown a bucket of ice water over both of you. Realizing for the first time that dawn had already arrived and the sun was rising lazily on the horizon, the weed turned the hours into moments.

“Viktor, are you there?” Jayce’s deep, confident voice echoed just outside the door.

Viktor’s eyes snapped open, his pupils still dilated from the intensity of the moment. He cursed under his breath as he grabbed his cane from the floor, gesturing quickly towards the work table. You understood what he meant.

With your heart about to explode, you helped him stand up and hurried to adjust your clothes and move away from him, although your legs were shaking slightly from the heat still burning in your body. You pretended as best you could that nothing had happened, he walked over to his desk and you grabbed some papers from the floor.

The door opened barely a second later, not giving you time to fully regain your composure. Jayce walked in with his usual relaxed attitude, but his gaze narrowed instantly as he noticed the strange atmosphere that filled the room.

“Am I interrupting something…didn’t you go home Y/N?” he asked with a raised eyebrow, looking first at Viktor and then at you, lingering a second longer than necessary on your slightly swollen lips.

Viktor, always quick to react, stood up with his cane and pointed at a pile of papers scattered on his table.

“Nothing at all,” he said in his usual tone, though the slight blush on his cheeks betrayed his feigned calm. “We were just going over some calculations and cleaning up your mess.”

Jayce narrowed his eyes, clearly suspicious. He took in Viktor’s messy locks, the flushed cheeks on your face, and that palpable tension floating between the two of you.

“Going over calculations?” he repeated slowly, letting the phrase hang in the air with a mocking tone as he crossed his arms. “Because it seems that something else happened here.”

You forced a nervous smile as you began to organize the papers on the table, pretending the comment was outlandish. “Oh, come on Jayce, what could possibly happen here?” Your heart was still beating like a drum in your ears. Viktor, for his part, adjusted his posture and gave Jayce a sharp look, full of exasperation.

“If you have something important to say, do it quickly. We’re busy.” Viktor’s voice was sharp, as if he were trying to firmly divert attention.

Jayce tilted a smile, clearly amused by his friend’s reaction, but raised his hands in surrender.

“Relax, it’s nothing urgent. I just wanted to ask you something, but I can go get coffee while you finish. I don’t want to… interrupt your calculations.”

The emphasis on the last word followed him to the door, where he gave one last suspicious look before disappearing down the hall.

When the door finally closed, the silence in the room was deafening. You let out a nervous laugh, bringing your hand to your mouth, while Viktor let out a long sigh and let himself lean back against the table, holding himself up with one hand.

“This can’t happen again,” he murmured, though his eyes, still fixed on you, burned with an unmistakable desire that contradicted every word. “I don’t know how you make my brain feel so… scattered and focused at the same time.”

You smile and he replies mischievously as you drop your forehead on his shoulder, your breath brushing his neck. “It’s my secret talent.”

Viktor watches you for a moment and adds softly, “Then, save it for me.”

“Viktor, I think you’re too high to give romantic speeches.” You laugh softly and give him a small pinch on the arm.

“Maybe… but I’m not so high that I don’t know I want more than what’s happened tonight.” His arms wrap around your waist in a hug. His chest heaves with a small laugh. “Shall we have breakfast at my house?”

The answer is more than clear.

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💕Thank you for the 100 followers even though we already passed 4 more, thank you for everything💕

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immortalbumblebee · 3 days ago

Text

Chapter 19: Heart of Gold

Figured the Vander fandom could use a lil' treat right about now, so here's my gift to all of you! Fingers crossed for Act 3 tomorrow!

(Also yes, two updates in a single week. Points to me!)

THIS IS SMUT! 18+! MINORS DNI PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD

Masterlist

“You hungry at all? Think we’ve got some leftovers I can warm up for y’.” He asks once you step through the threshold, shutting the door behind you. The apartment feels eerily empty without the others, despite the mountains of stuff that litter the floor space and every perceivable surface. But the homey warmth is welcomed after your bitterly cold walk home. You feel your cheeks begin to warm, sense coming back into them. You’ve hidden your hands in the large sleeves of Vander’s jacket, but still curl your fingers as warm blood begins to flow back into them.

You shake your head. “Maybe some water, if you don’t mind? And find where we put the bandages?” You ask. You’ll have to put fresh plasters on your injuries after your shower.

“Of course!” Vander nods, and once the door lock clicks, he turns back to face you. He stands there for a moment, hands in his pockets and shuffling his weight from foot to foot, and looking down at you without saying anything. The air felt thick, charged, like something still hung between you, unresolved. So much so that it took you a solid moment to even realize you were doing much the same, just stupidly looking up at him. You found yourself wanting to say something, to bridge the space, but the words felt too small, too fragile. So, you just stood there. Time stretched, thick with everything that had been said, and everything that hadn’t. All that was left was the weight of your shared space, now too big for the both of you. The seconds slipped by, silent and heavy, until you weren’t sure if it was you or the room that was holding its breath.

Finally, it’s Vander that speaks first, pulling the world back into motion. “You’re sure you’re alright?” It should be a simple question, but it feels like a lifeline thrown across a gap.

You shift, unknowingly taking a small step towards him, and the tension in your chest that you hadn’t even realized was there begins to lessen. You feel his gaze on you soften, but your own gaze is still absent-mindedly locked on his feet.

“I’m fine now,” you breathe out. Your voice barely more than a whisper. “Promise.” There was a long pause after that—no rush to fill the silence with anything else. But then he takes a step towards you, closing the physical space, and a gentle knuckle moves your chin up to meet his gaze. Something in his eyes—something raw, desperate—mesmerizes you and you suddenly can’t move your eyes away, locked in on the storming gray.

Wordlessly, he extends his hand. You have to shove the sleeve of his jacket up your arm in order to meet his touch with your own, the large calloused hand easily enveloping yours. His thumb brushed over my knuckles once, twice, each touch like a promise, soft but knowing. Still silent, he lifts your hand to his lips. The warmth of his breath ghosts over your wrist before he pressed a soft kiss to the plaster, the touch lingering, gentle, reverent. Then, with gentle fingers, he opens your hand to press it against the warmth of his cheek. Despite your best attempts to keep your hands warm outside, the warmth of his cheek burns at the winter-bitten skin of your fingers, and his stubble brushes against the meat of your palm.

His eyes closed, just for a moment, and in the stillness, there was something…but you couldn’t put a name to the feeling that filled that entryway to your shared apartment. Meditation? Thoughtfulness? A prayer? An apology? Whatever it was, you stayed, refusing to pull away but fighting the urge to bury yourself in his chest and stay there for an eternity. Thankfully, you don’t have to fight the urge for too long as he eventually does lower your hand, giving it one last, soft, reassuring squeeze before lowering it back to your side.

“I’ll get that water for you, Love.” He says with a smile, snapping you out of your daze. You couldn’t read the expression on his face. Somewhere between sad and thankful. “Go and wash up.”

“Right.” You nod. Showering! Showering is good! In all your romantic kissy-faces to each other, you’d almost forgotten the reason you had been itching to return home so quickly. You quickly peel off his jacket, handing it back to him before bending down to unlace your boots. As you do, you’re quickly reminded of the coolness of your apartment as it hits your very exposed flesh all at once. Gods, you needed to get out of these fighting clothes. Would it be too dramatic to say you wanted to burn them? Maybe. But the thought still crossed your mind.

The steam that wrapped around you was almost like a blanket, the warmth of the water a slow, soothing balm against your aching bones. The hot spray cascading from the top of your head, and pouring down your neck and over the skin of your back. Lazily, you’d lifted an arm and watched as the water washed away the dirt and grime from the past few hours, leaving behind murky trails as the droplets rolled down your skin.

You shouldn’t be taking too long in the shower, you knew this. The boilers for your apartment building were old, and tended not to hold much hot water. But the minute you felt the heat seep into your muscles, you were hypnotized. Closing your eyes, you turned and let the water flow down your hair and into your face, the sound of rushing water drowning out any and all noise from the world outside. It hurts a little when the water hits your nose, shocking you out of your peace and making you step back away from the stream.

Right, you think to yourself, your injuries. Had to work around those…

You look down at your damaged wrists, the raw, angry skin still tender from the rough treatment, and a small annoyance flickers in your chest. How are you supposed to wash your hair when you can’t even get soap in the wounds? Your fingers hover near the shampoo bottle, but your mind veers off, lost in a different memory. The shackles. You can almost feel the cold, unforgiving metal around your wrists again, the way they had bitten into your skin, rubbing it raw with every movement, tethering you in a way that was both physical and psychological. The sensation of being bound, unable to escape, floods your thoughts, and the anxiety tightens in your chest.

You breathe deeply, pushing the memories away as best you can. Your gaze shifts to the temperature dial of the shower, and your fingers flex, tentative, before flicking your wrist just so. The heat of the water rises, just a touch more, and as it hits your skin, it’s like a switch flips. The tension in your hands begins to ease, the deep ache in your muscles loosening, like a rusted hinge moving for the first time in ages after being oiled.

There’s a knock at the door that snaps you out of your thoughts, and you call out an invitation to come in.

“Just wanted to check in,” Vander calls, “makin’ sure everything’s alright.”

You respond quickly, without even thinking. “Yup, I’m all good!” But another look at the shampoo bottle reminds you of your predicament. “...actually…could I ask a favour?” An uncomfortable feeling rises in your chest, the dread of having to depend on someone else for something so simple as washing your hair.

The door clicks as Vander steps inside. “Of course, whatever you need.”

“I-” you exhale a sigh of annoyance, “I think I need help washing my hair. My wrists…”

You don’t need to say any more before Vander starts stripping himself of his clothes, the sound of rustling fabric and his belt hitting the tile floor. The rushing water is almost enough to drown out the self-deprecating thoughts that trickle into your mind, and the sound of your heartbeat skipping in your ears as he climbs in behind you.

He doesn’t say anything at first, but you feel his hands on your body. His fingers swiping over the various discoloured bruises that now decorate your skin, some from Sevika, some from the Enforcers. You can feel the weight of their gaze, full of care, but also something else—concern, maybe even guilt. “I promise, I’m fine.” You say as you turn around to face him, and his eyes immediately shift to your nose. You didn’t realize he was so close to you, your chests basically pressed to one another once you’ve turned to face him. “You and I both know I’ve been through worse.” His eyebrows lift a little and he nods, muttering “fair enough,” as he detaches his hands and bends down to the shampoo he knows is yours.

“I’m sorry to ask so much of you.” You blurt as he pours out the bottled liquid. But he just gives you a knowing look.

“It’s you, Doll,” he smiles, and you realize it’s the first genuine smile you’ve seen from him all night. “You could never ask too much of me.”

Your heart skips all over again.

As he begins working the shampoo into your hair, you find yourself leaning into the feel of his fingers. They’re a little awkward, clearly not used to doing this for someone else, but his touch feels heavenly as they rub into your scalp. Your eyes shut, but your hands latch onto his hips to help keep you steady. It doesn’t take him long to work the solution into your short-cut hair, and he ever so gently tilts your head back into the shower’s stream to wash it away.

“That cut to your nose’ll scar nicely.” He remarks as his hands keep busy in your strands.

“Like it?” You tentatively open one of your eyes and smirk. “At least my muzzle’s not quite as mashed as yours.”

He chuckles lowly. “We’re still young, Minnie. Give it a few more years, and we’ll see who’s talking. Besides,” he tips your head back up, but his hands stay entangled in your hair, “even with all the broken cartilage in the world, and every scar imaginable, you’re still gorgeous compared to my ugly mug.”

A heat rises through your chest that has absolutely nothing to do with the steaming shower, and suddenly, your retort about how much you hate that stupid nickname has vanished from your mind. Instead, you force a roll of your eyes and gently swat at his side with a scoff.

“Oh fuck off, so not true.”

“I think it is.” He smiles, his eyes locked on yours as a small smile pulls at his lips. “Besides, can’t blame a man for trying to flatter his girl.”

Your eyebrows fly up into your hairline. “‘Yours’, huh?”

He hums in confirmation, his thumb brushing at the base of your skull. The touch sends a shiver down your spine, and your breath catches in your throat. He smirks as he confirms, “mine.” There’s no questioning tone or uncertainty, it’s matter-of-fact. Before you even have time to think of a proper response, he’s bending down to retrieve the soap.

He rathers the bar in his hands, his eyes flickering back and forth up to yours, searching yours, as if asking for permission. The tension in the air is palpable, the space between you thick with hesitation. You nod, just once, barely, but it’s enough. He moves with practiced care, gently moving one sudsy hand to your shoulder. You can feel the bubbles wiping away the remnants of the grime and sweat, but you don’t move your eyes away from Vander. His, on the other hand, scans over every inch of you as he continues to move his hand over your skin. The moment his hands reach for your wrists, you flinch, instinctively pulling back, but he stops—just for a beat, letting you adjust, giving you a moment. His touch is careful, soft as he moves away from the tender wounds.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, his voice thick with something you can’t quite place. “I should have done something to stop them, to help you.”

You don’t say anything at first, letting him continue to work the soap into your torso. You can feel his hands pause for just a moment around your chest, almost out of habit, before continuing to slide over your sides. Then you lift your hands to his shoulders, stilling him. You search his expression, guilt coming up to the surface and written all over his furrowed brow. You’re looking for something, anything to indicate the right thing to say to him. But then you're moving to your tip-toes, and your hands are sliding around him, pulling his lips down to meet yours.

Your lips are gentle. There’s no heat, no rush, to the kiss but he melts into it all the same. There’s a small, echoed, ‘thump’ as the soap falls to the floor of the shower and his hands encircle your waist. He’s gentle, careful, but pressed you into him. Not unsure or uncertain, just careful of the way your body moves with his touch.

Eventually, you pull away, but he refuses to let you go, and keeps the closeness between you even tighter as he gently presses his forehead to yours. You can feel his breath fanning over your face, and his strong grip keeping you firmly in place. The hot water from the shower streams down your back, and the combined heat from the steam and the shared warmth of his body radiating into both of you. When you do eventually separate, it’s only thanks to a firm hand on his chest that he lets you pull away.

“I think I can handle it from here.” You smile a little to yourself. “I’m 90% sure we’re about to run out of hot water, and I’d really rather that not happen while I’m in here. Is it okay if I meet you out there?”

There’s something like a low growl deep in his chest, and he pulls you in one more time, this time to press a gentle, tender kiss to your wet hair. One of your hands finds its way to his chest, the pads of your fingers tracing over the lines of his muscles appreciatively for a moment longer than strictly necessary before he takes a step back.

“Take all the time you need, Love.” He smiles, squeezing your hand one final time before stepping out. You let him take your hand with him, until the very last moment before he disappears behind the curtain.

As you predicted, it takes next to no time at all for you to finish washing up. You quickly dry off and dress in a much comfier set of clothes, but you’re still toweling off your hair as you step out of the bathroom and into the apartment at large. As you could have guessed, Vander’s sitting there, patiently, on the couch with a first aid kit on standby.

“You didn’t have to actually wait for me.” You explain. “And you really don’t have to help patch me back up.”

“Oh, please,” Vander scoffs and waves you off, “you’ve patched me up plenty, it’s only right if I return the favour every once in a while.”

You can’t help but roll your eyes, but take the spot next to him nonetheless, smiling as he grabs the antiseptic from the kit. His movements are calm, but a little unsure. Usually it’s him getting patched up, not the other way around. You watch him, the quiet comfort of their presence filling the space between you.

He focuses on your wrists first, his hands gentle as they begin cleaning and dressing your wounds. There’s no rush in the way he works, no sense of urgency, just the steady rhythm of their touch. The coolness of the ointment soothes your skin, and for a moment, you forget the discomfort, focusing instead on the simple act of being cared for. His fingers graze your arm as they adjust the bandage, warm and reassuring.

The silence between you isn’t heavy anymore. It’s easy, companionable, a shared moment of quiet that feels more like a pause than anything else. You lean back into the cushions, finally able to relax, the weight of the day starting to lift, if only for a little while. And in that space, with them beside you, you feel happily reassured, content even.

“You don’t have to apologize, you know.” You break the silence. His hands pause over the bandages for a moment, indicating he heard you, but his gaze doesn’t lift to meet yours. “You did help me. I’m assuming it wasn’t Silco’s idea to get my mom and Niya involved.”

He shrugs, wrapping the second bandage around your other wrist. “It was Silco who said that if we were seen anywhere topside, we’d get thrown in jail with you.” For such a large man, it was surprising when his voice was this small.

“He was probably right.” You nod, and lift your already-bandaged hand to cup his cheek. “But you still found a way to help me. What matters right now is that I’m safe, here with you, and everyone down here’s okay.”

He leans into your touch for a moment, shutting his eyes. He seems to be thinking to himself for a moment, then sighs, nods, and turns his attention back to bandaging you up. You drop your hand.

“Suppose you’re right.” He mumbles, practically a whisper, and he looks up to give you a thankful smile. One you’re more than happy to return.

“When am I not?”

To this, he can’t help but chuckle, and he gives you a knowing look, one that makes the air feel lighter, more peaceful. There’s something about his presence, the way he handles you with care, that feels grounding, even comforting. As he finishes with your wrist, he finally turns his attention to your nose. This one’s easy, shorter work, as he simply dabs on the last of the antiseptic and sticks a plaster to the bridge of your nose, just under your eye line.

As he finishes tending to you, his hands remain steady, not moving away, not yet. He looks up at you, eyes soft, searching for a sign—anything that might let him know you're ready for him to pull away. But you don’t want him to. Instead, you happily let him move closer to you, his body pressing against yours as he captures your lips in a tender, passionate kiss. His arms wrap around you, pulling you in tightly as his mouth moves over yours, a mix of tenderness and hunger in his touch. Time seems to slow down as his mouth moves over yours, the kiss slow and languid, as if he wants to savor every moment. His hands gently caress your face, fingers tracing the outline of your jaw as he kisses you tenderly.

He takes his time, exploring your mouth with a gentle but firm tongue, mapping out every contour. He moves from your lips to your ears, his breath hot on your skin as he whispers sweet nothings, pressing wet, open-mouthed kisses along the length of your neck that make your toes curl. Your hands snake around to the back of his head, your fingers gripping into his hair and successfully drawing out a moan from him. This makes you smirk, but you’re surprised when he quickly pulls his face away from you.

“When do you have to be at work?” He asks, voice husky but concern written on his face.

You shake your head. “I don’t, I booked today off in case the fight went sideways. You?”

His concern melts away into a gleeful smile, his arms enveloping your torso as he lifts you up with absolutely no effort, sitting back to lean against the arm of the couch and pulling you into his lap, your thighs straddling his. “Not until tonight.”

Gods bless!

You dip your face back to meet his lips again, letting a moan ring out at the contact. The kiss is slow and somewhat tentative at first, and it’s clear he wants to be gentle with you. But more and more as your kiss continues to deepen, he quickly becomes more confident until he inevitably dips his head back down to the crook of your neck. But he still moves slowly, taking his time to taste and touch, his mouth finding the sensitive spots on your neck, the hollow of your collarbone, and the slope of your shoulder. His mouth sears a path of pleasure as his hands continue to wander over your body, exploring every dip and curve. His stubble scratches you in the most delectable way.

He worships you with his touch, as if he wants to memorize every inch of you, to commit the feel of your skin to his memory. It feels like every touch of his lips is your own personal heaven, your hand dropping to his shoulder and gripping, your chest heaving as your breath becomes more and more laboured. Damn this man, damn him and his memory of every little nerve ending in your body.

As his hands move under the fabric of your shirt, you give him a silent nod of approval, letting him slide the material up and off your torso and not carrying where into the depths of your home he throws it. He pulls away, just for a moment, as his hands slide up and cup your breasts, his eyes scanning over every inch of you. “Best fuckin’ tits either side of the bridge, I swear to the Gods…” This makes you giggle a little, which only makes his smile grow even wider.

“Shut up and kiss me again, idiot.” You laugh, using your magic to pull him in by the metal studs in his vest. He’s only too happy to follow orders, crashing his lips to yours once again.

Your hands run up his chest, helping him out of his vest and he thankfully takes the hint, pulling his shirt over his head. You take the moment to shimmy out of the pajama shorts you’d only just gotten dressed into as he begins to fiddle with his belt. It only takes a second for you to flick your finger, and the belt unloops itself and goes flying towards the bedroom. He gives you a knowing look.

“What?” You shrug as he resumes discarding his pants. “What’s the point of having these damn powers if I can’t use them, hm?”

“Lil’ trouble maker.” He tsk’s but very shortly pulls you right back to his lap.

His strong, muscular chest pressed up against your own, the feeling of skin against skin sending a wave of heat through both of you. He kisses you with a fervor and intensity that takes your breath away, his hands holding you tightly against him, as if he's scared to let you go. You feel as desired and wanted as you've ever been, every touch and kiss from him making you weak in the knees and stealing all rational thought from your mind. In all your years, you’ve never once felt quite as desired as you do with Vander. Similarly, it takes only a mere touch from him to make your knees weak and your mind go empty. Simply put, it’s just…him. And he’s the only one you want.

The thought, and the pure intimacy of it all, is enough to make your hips begin to grind down on their own accord. You can feel how he’s pressing into you, how hard and perfectly shaped he is against your body. His hand finds your hip, steadying you and catching your gaze in a questioning look.

“Sure you’re up for this tonight, Love?” He asks, thumb rubbing softly against your pelvis bone. But all you’ve got to do is smile and dip down to capture his lips as you tilt your hips and scoot closer, for him to let out a full-body shiver and grab your hips with both hands, and thrust fully into you. You moan out a slew of curses as your body writhes against his, everything else ceasing to exist as he fills you. Getting lost in his embrace, his face finds your neck again and begins to pepper kisses across the skin. You feel the desperate need for friction, a primal urge taking control, but you're already so sensitive and overwhelmed from the initial stretch that you know you need time to adjust. He groans, a deep, guttural thing, when you finally take all of him, and the sound drives through you, making your core tighten in response. Your own self-restraint crumbles, and your hips move on their own accord, silently pleading for him to finally give in and begin the movement you both crave. Thankfully, he seems unable to resist, his own hips moving to match your rhythm until you hit the pace you need, causing pleasure to crash into you.

His strength is absolutely an asset, his hands helping to guide your hips up and down as you begin to slowly ride him. Your mind was already practically spinning, moans and curses tumbling from your lips as he dragged in and out of your warmth. Your hands find his shoulders (fuck, he has nice shoulders), a desperate attempt to ground yourself and bite back the urge to dig your fingernails into his skin.

“So-fuck–” you whine, almost pathetically, “so fucking full.”

The sound sends a shockwave through Vander, all but ramming himself deeper into you in a way that feels like it breaks your brain. But you both feel it, the desperate hunger for more.

“That’s right. You take me so well, don’t you, Love?” He moans into your skin, pulling away from your neck to take in the sight of you on his lap. Somehow, seeing his eyes, seeing the way he looks at you; like water to a man parched, like your the greatest treasure you could hope to find. Mesmerized by the pleasure on your face and the way your tits bounce as you move against him. It feels wonderfully perfect, and all you can do is moan and nod, each time your hips snap down, sending a fresh wave of ecstasy through your body.

He’s relentless, his hips grinding against yours like he owns you, and there’s a sense of ownership in his actions, as if he’s claiming you as his own. He lets out a growl against your ear, and the sound of it sends a shiver down your spine. He’s wild and intense, and the pleasure he’s giving you is so much more than you ever thought possible. You cling to him, your fingers digging into his back as you hold on for dear life, overwhelmed by the intensity of the sensations.

At this point, any semblance of gentleness is long gone, replaced with the primarily urge, the exquisite electrical feeling that buzzes through both of you. You’re riding him with every intention of chasing both of your releases, every thrust down having him gripping your hips harder and harder to the point where you’re half-aware of the bruises you’re sure to have after. He dips back to the crook of your shoulder one last time, licking up the length of your neck with the flat of his tongue before suddenly, the piercing feeling of his teeth against your shoulder shocks through you. You shriek in the mix of pain in pleasure, letting your head roll back to allow him more access.

“Mine.” He growls into your ear. “Understood?”

“Fuck-yes!” You cry, feeling the coil in your lower stomach begin to tighten. “Yours. All of me, all that I am, yours.”

Fuck it. Right now, right here. All you needed was him.

He’s driving you crazy with a pleasure more intense than you could have imagined, his body moving against yours with a raw, primal force. With each deep, hard thrust, you feel him claiming you, leaving you completely at his mercy, and the sense of submission only adds to the pleasure coursing through you. It’s as if he knows your body better than you do, and he’s able to draw out every ounce of pleasure from you. Knowing you’re both on the brink, he reaches out, grabbing one of your hands and pressing a kiss to your palm, then your bandaged wrist, then your arm, then where he just marked his teeth into your skin, all the way back to claim your lips. It’s maddening and intoxicating all at once, it’s perfect, and you find yourself being flown over the edge.

“That’s-” he lets out his own string of curses as you tighten around him, “that’s it, that’s it! So fucking good!”

Your mind is so fried from your orgasm that you barely register him all but throwing you onto the couch, didn’t even register the feel of the fabric on your back. But you most definitely felt him suddenly thrusting back into you, hooking one of your legs over your shoulder to allow him full and complete access to you. He’s more than happy to press kisses to the inside of your thigh, which mixed with the fully lewd sounds of his quickened pace, is enough to get you fully sex drunk and delirious as he continues to plow into you.

“Gods, you look so-” he bites your thigh, and the same shriek escape your throat, combined with your drunken moans and whines, and it’s enough to make him groan deeply into the flesh he’s biting. “Fuck, I’m gonna-”

“Please!” You whine, voice cracking as your hands balling into fists as your mind struggles to comprehend the amount of pleasure flowing through you right now. “I need it, need to feel it! Vander, please!” That’s more than enough to ruin him, Vander dropping your leg so he could crash down and kiss you as he buried himself deep into you with one final thrust. You felt him groan against your lips and claw at your hips as he emptied himself into you, his chest rising and falling with each panted breath.

You remain wrapped up in each other's embrace as several minutes pass, your lips moving against one another’s in a satisfied and languid kiss until he finally pulls away to catch his breath. He gasps for air, his warm breath fanning across your collarbone and sending a shiver through you.

Eventually, he can finally speak again, and he releases a deep, satisfied moan, “Fuuuuuck, that was good.” He manages to lift himself up slightly, gazing down at you with eyes filled with an adoring love, as they reach for your hand, their fingers brushing over your knuckles with a tenderness that makes your heart warm. You smile back at him, feeling giddy and blissful. “You alright, Love?”

Taking a deep, calming breath yourself as your consciousness slowly returns to you, you slide your hands up around his neck. “Oh Gods, yeah.” You laugh, and the smile he cracks is so wide, you’re sure he’s going to hurt himself. His head bends down, peppering your face full of kisses until you’re giggling and pushing him away. “...We should probably maybe move off the couch, though…and maybe grab our clothes before the guys get back.”

He whines a little, but concedes. “Right, yeah, hang on…”

Bless him, he carefully maneuvers you into your room, masterfully managing to stay completely in you until you’re laying on your bed. Then, with one final kiss, you feel him pull out before wandering back to the living room to collect all your things as you begin to clean yourself. It takes mere moments, but it feels like ages until he’s back in the room with you, tucking the both of you into your blankets as you begin to seep into the cozy warmth of your shared bodies.

For a while, you just sit there, the two of you wrapped in warmth and quiet. Every now and then, he gently adjusts the blanket around you, their touch always light, always careful, like he’s trying to wrap you in comfort from every direction. You laugh softly when he tries to adjust your pillow for the third time, but it’s a light, easy sound, one that feels like things are returning to normal again.

You lean into him, your head resting on his shoulder, and he presses a soft kiss to the top of your head. The room feels full of little moments like this—touches that reassure, smiles that say everything without needing to be said. You’re not sure how long you stay like that, but time feels slower, softer, in the best way. The world outside seems distant, like you’re tucked away in this small bubble of calm, where everything feels safe and cared for.

It’s simple, it’s quiet, but in that space, it’s everything.

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ganxiously · 2 days ago

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This is the part of the helicopter crash fic I started writing today. I don't know if I'm going to post it to ao3 but I did want to share it here. Now, this first update is angst so read at your own risk, but it will be a happy ending, I promise. This is Tommy's pov and I'll be back with Buck's side of things and the aftermath as soon as I have finished writing them —

The silence is stark in the aftermath and Tommy’s ears ring like they are still expecting the screech of the altitude alarms or the roar of metal crashing into rocks and trees. He’s not sure what happened, one moment he was flying his helo back to Harbour and the next, the altitude alarms started going off one by one. He had tried to fix it, tried to pull the bird up even as it became amply clear that nothing was working. They had dropped fast, swinging this side and that with the wind and then his tail had hit the cliffside, sending him and his medic rolling down the mountain in a 30-tonne metal can. He doesn’t know what happened to her, Amy, a new recruit with a penchant for keeping to herself. That’s why they worked together so well, a good thing until it led them here.

“Amy?”, he manages to ask, his voice coming out hoarse. “Medic Garcia?”

There is nothing. Not even the sound of feeble breaths. Tommy swallows the burgeoning feeling of grief and panic and tries to think of a way out. It’s dead of the night, the scenery outside the broken glass of his wind-screen pitch black, the flickering lights of the city not even visible from where he’s landed. He tries to move himself and then immediately freezes as the pain threatens to take away his consciousness.

This is bad, he thinks. I don’t know how to get out of this one.

He is still strapped into his harness and beneath that, his flight suit is soaked with blood. It feels tacky and slippery against his skin, enough of it that he knows wherever it’s coming from, it’s not good news. It’s not survivable. His legs are pinned and he’s pretty sure the wet feeling around his eyes is blood. His ribs hurt and when he tries to move his hands, his shoulders refuse to bear the weight.

Oh, I am definitely not getting out of this one.

The realisation hits like G during a rapid climb and for the first time in long while, Tommy’s scared. He is terrified, as terrified as he hasn’t been since he was a wet-behind-his-ears boy seeing war for the first time. He thinks his hands would shake if he could move them that fast, his breath would stutter if it already wasn’t, wheezing past the damage, past the blood and tickling at his lips. He doesn’t want to die like this, the thought occurs to him. He doesn’t want to die at all. He wants to turn back time and return to those scant months when he had been, for once, truly happy. He wants . . . he wants Evan. Beside him, holding his hand, his fingers tracing the lines on Tommy’s palm as he talks about anything and everything that comes to his mind.

Maybe that is the thing about impending death. Its finality, its loneliness puts things into perspective really fast. When he had all the time in the world, he had faltered, he had a thousand and one excuses ready as to why it was a bad idea. Now that Tommy’s out of time, there is not one that seems to hold up to reason. He wants Evan, he loves Evan and he should have told him that when he still had the chance. He should have spent every second he had left loving him.

He somehow manages to take his phone out of his pocket, surprised to see that it’s still mostly intact, except for the one thin crack down the middle. He thumbs it open and there he is, brushed golden in the sun and laughing at something Tommy had said. It’s a damn shame he can’t remember anymore what that something had been. There’s no cell service on his phone, which is bad but it also relieves him. He doesn’t have to make a 911 call, only to tell them they are already too late and like this, he won’t give in to the urge to hear Evan’s voice one last time.

He opens their message thread like he has done so many times these past couple of weeks, typing and deleting messages that never seem to be able to convey his complicated thoughts. He clicks on the typing bar, watches the keyboard pop up and then just keeps on staring, looking at the bloody fingerprint on his screen as he tries to think of what to write. What last words do you text your ex-boyfriend who you broke up with? That I’m sorry and I think I’m an even bigger asshole than you probably think I am?

The pain in his body notches up, so spread out that he barely knows where it originates from and he grits his teeth with an effort to keep himself from screaming. Eventually, it passes and Tommy takes the opportunity to click on the voice message button to the right.

“Buck.”

He hates that name on his tongue.

“Evan.”, he starts and then stops again because it still doesn’t feel enough. It doesn’t feel like it encapsulates everything Tommy associates with that name — the warmth, the safety, the incredulous how is he real? and the helpless adoration that he just can’t seem to keep at bay no matter how much he tries. So, he gives it one more shot, “Evan. My Evan. I’m sorry. I’m sorry about a million things.”

A cough stops him, the movement jostling him enough that pain rips through him anew and he is left gasping and sobbing.

“I’m sorry I didn’t stay away. I’m sorry I didn’t leave earlier and I’m sorry I left when I did . . . I’m sorry I hurt you.”

He swallows the blood in his mouth or at least, he tries to but all of it comes out with the next cough.

“I should have stuck around. I should have stayed and I should have loved you as long as you let me. I should . . . I should have told you I love you. Even—even if you don’t and that’s okay. You should— you shouldn’t love someone like me but that was no reason to not tell you I did. I just . . . I should have loved you as hard as I could while I still had the chance, Evan. You, at least, deserved that.”

He’s getting colder by the second and the part of his brain that still works, tells him that he is going into shock. Tommy’s running out of time and he’s running out of time fast.

“I don’t want to die.”, he manages to say through the sobs racking through his throat. He thinks he should feel pain but there isn’t anything beyond numbness anymore, “I don’t want to die and I don’t want to go through death alone. I want you . . .”

No, but that’s not right, is it? He doesn’t want Evan in this mess. Evan doesn’t deserve to get hurt again just to accompany Tommy in his last moments. He should be far away, happy, healthy and at peace. Maybe it is better that they broke up. If this was always supposed to be the end, it is surely better that Evan no doubt hates Tommy a little bit now. Maybe, if he’s lucky, Evan will leave a flower on his grave one day.

“I really wanted to be your last, you know?”, he finally says after a minute of silence, the words spilling out almost conversationally, long after he thought he’s run out of things to say. “But more than that, I wanted you to be my last and I’m happy that I got it, even if it’s not in the way I wanted it to be.”

And it's so fucking typical of him, isn’t it? He is being so selfish right now, ruining Evan’s life like this just so he can get some things off his chest. And he knows Evan, he knows what this message will do to him. Evan will go through life with the burden of Tommy’s regret on his shoulders and he hates how tempting that thought is, that if not in his heart, Tommy’s existence will at least have a place in the scars he carries for the rest of his life.

Here lies Tommy Kinard. He’s the bastard that broke my heart once upon a time.

But no, he can’t do that to Evan. He’s been selfish when he kissed Evan the first time, when they decided to give it a second try and when he hurt Evan to protect himself. He’s been selfish every moment that he managed to steal in between.

“Nevermind.”, he breathes out, smiling through the blood that’s threatening to choke him. “Nevermind, Evan. You— you don’t need to know all that. You should forget me. Forget there was ever a Tommy Kinard who loved you. Live a happy life and maybe . . . maybe in our next one, I’ll get to keep you. I’ll delete this now. I would have deleted myself out of your life too if I could’ve but this will have to do. I’m really outta time here, kid.”

He tries to blink away the blind spots around the edges of his vision but he’s fading fast. He fights against the unmoored feeling that is taking over, tries to swipe his screen in hopes of deleting the message but his hands are too slick and too weak to do anything anymore. The phone slips from his grasp and falls with a thunk somewhere near his feet, not that it matters. Not when he can barely remember what he was doing with the phone in the first place. Something to do with Evan. Maybe.

He huffs at his uselessness.

“Evan.”, his lips shape the word with care even though his voice doesn’t quite manage to colour it fully but it’s enough. It’s enough to have that be the last thing he speaks, to be the last thing he thinks about. The name washes away the cold like dawning sunrise on a crisp winter morning and Tommy is at peace, he is content.

“Tommy?”

That’s Evan’s voice. He has to go. He has to answer. He has to—

#911 abc #bucktommy #evan buckley #tommy kinard #fic #helicopter crash

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aethon-recs · 3 days ago

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This Week (x2) in Tomarrymort (8 – 21 November 2024)

Hello! We have three multi-chaptered fics finishing this week, highlighted below. In addition, I made a rec list for Tomarrymort Necrophilia Fics 💀🤍 in support of the Tomarrymort Necro Fest hosted by @magical-menagerie-server, which kicks off in January.

Completed Fic:

Memories of a Killer by @chemfreak89 (M, 47k, complete) Age catches up with everyone. The infamous serial killer Voldemort now spends his time reading newspapers and making trips to the local library in search of a new crime novel. But one day he makes an interesting new acquaintance that shakes his quiet life and rekindles old flames and unknown desires. What quickens me is the violence in thee by @i-dream-of-libraries (M, 17k, complete) Harry is sold at auction to a man who is clearly in some kind of disguise - Lord Riddle isn't as charming as he looks, and the way he looks at Harry... A Regency AU inspired by the magnificent artwork of @stolenviolet. If I were you by @onehitpleb (E, 9k, complete) It is 1945 and Tom is eighteen, freshly graduated, and working a non-reputable job as a store clerk in Knockturn Alley. Somehow, he grows attached to the worst sort of person - an idiot.

In addition, a recap of the author notes from last week! (Please feel free to add some extra context to your fic update in the reblog, such as a little bit about the chapter(s) updated, and I’ll throw it in the update for next week!)

A Simple Request by @shyinsunlight (E, 70k, WIP) “As for the new chapter of A Simple Request, Harry tries and (unsurprisingly) fails to keep his personal life private. Some are having the time of their life, some others, not so much. Lifts can take you up, but going down is more interesting.” Wish by @sri-verse (E, 3k, WIP) “Wish is set after Harry's fifth year where he gets the ownership of Bellatrix's vault along side the Black vault. Looking at a gold goblet, he remembers his childhood wish of buying a gold cauldron and brings back Helga Hufflepuff's cup with him to fulfill that desire, unaware that he has freed the horcrux living in it.” To the Hilt by @izharmilgram (E, 28k, WIP) “To The Hilt is a royal arranged marriage au featuring nontraditional a/b/o, political schemes, ancient greek and abrahamic religion references, feral harry potter, and lots of power play and worship. It's neither only tomarry or only harrymort, but tomarrymort—meaning the core relationship is Tom/Harry/Voldemort. This includes Tom/Voldemort.” we made universes out of bitten lips and broken hands by @boyneptunee (M, 50k, WIP) “The consequences of Harry's Time Travel seem inconsequential, at first. Until they stare right back at him with vicious eyes. There's trouble brewing in every direction, and the Future is not as certain and set in stone as one might think.” Time Stumbler by @wintumnly (T, 102k, WIP) “Harry is stuck in 1937 and spends the holidays with almost-eleven-year-old Tom Riddle. On the first day of Christmas, they both anxiously wait for Tom's Hogwarts letter together. Fluff, humor, and Tom Riddle is not good with feelings." 7 by @moontearpensfic (E, 44k, WIP) “Harry goes back in time to raise Tom AU: the boys discuss what might have happened to make Voldemort go to "sleep."” Anytime, Anywhere, Always by @moontearpensfic (E, 22k, WIP) “Harry corrupts Tom AU: Tom and Harry celebrate Christmas--and something more! Your Wish, My Command by @moontearpensfic (E, 8k, WIP) “Hinny adopts Tom AU: Tom finally gets Harry to crack. 🔥”

Tomarrymort One Shots and Completed Fic

Complete | Chapters 8 and 9 of Memories of a Killer by @chemfreak89

Complete | Chapter 6 of What quickens me is the violence in thee by @i-dream-of-libraries

Complete | Chapter 4 of If I were you by @onehitpleb

Complete | Chapter 19 of Sits the wind in that quarter by @mosiva

One Shot | To be Imagined by @cyandenial

One Shot | god's hands by @curioushabitforarivergod

One Shot | bad behaviour by @milkandmoon-ao3

One Shot | two ways of being: the noun & the verb by cycloalkane

One Shot | set my soul on fire by @wynnefic

One Shot | Beach Episode by @crowcrowcrowthing

One Shot | First Duel by @being-luminous

Tomarrymort Ongoing Fics

Chapter 12 of Ills of Murder by @shadow-of-the-eclipse

Chapters 7 through 11 of in the silence by @satflesk22

Chapter 4 of friend of the devil (a friend of mine) by @shyinsunlight

Chapter 15 of Embryo by @cannibalinc

Chapter 4 of As It Begins by @duplicitywrites,@moontearpensfic

Chapters 7 and 8 of Stygian by @crowcrowcrowthing

Chapters 15 through 17 of Saint Harry by @alenablack @chaos-bear

Chapter 1 of the night is cold in the kingdom by @girl-with-goats

Chapters 5 and 6 of you speak of the devil (like he's not your friend) by @amuria

Chapters 131 through 134 of Liquida Tenebris (Remastered) by @dymis

Chapters 1 and 2 of Small Mistakes by Crisis_Brewing

Chapter 5 of Hit 'N Run by @dragonaireabsolvare

Chapter 11 of Days always end in sunsets by @d00medbythenarrative

Chapter 25 of Time Stumbler by @wintumnly

Chapters 8 and 9 of Venom or Valor by @lightningant

Chapter 21 of Outrunning the Villain in You by @zenyteehee

Chapters 6 through 8 of To the Hilt by @izharmilgram

Chapter 9 of Do It Over by @thefangirlibrarian

Chapter 2 of Infinite by @moontearpensfic

Chapter 2 of Prizefighter by @dragonaireabsolvare

Chapter 8 of Fetters of the Damned by @sc0rpiflow3r

Chapters 13 and 14 of Hole in the Wall by tomrddle

Chapters 23 and 24 of Learning to love by @l-archiduchesse

Chapter 13 of He Who Shall Not Be Changed by @moontimefilter

Chapter 17 of Last Son of Black by @treacleteacups

Chapter 6 of Dreams Beyond Blood by @hikarimeroperiddle

#tomarry #tomarrymort #harrymort #tomarrymort recs #aethon recs #tomarry recs #ao3 recs #fanfic recs #hp fic recs #harrymort recs #tomarry weekly #this week in tomarrymort

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silaslich · 19 hours ago

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The heat of imposition

John “Soap” Mactavish x f!reader x Simon “Ghost” Riley

Summary - Rugby AU. While watching a rugby match with Kyle you happen to catch the attention of not one, but two of the players. Neither of them like the fact that the other wants you too. [part 1/3]

Wc - 4.8k

An - I know fuck all about rugby so ignore any inaccuracies, we’re here for sex not rugby

It isn’t by chance that you find yourself at the pitch.

Your arm had been twisted- hands tied. You’d lie and say you had no choice, but the truth is that you simply have nothing better to do on a random rainy Saturday in October.

Kyle hadn’t given you much of an alternative when it came to making plans; his idea of fun might be sitting in the cold as he nurses a cheap beer and ogles a cluster of beefed-up middle aged men while they run around tackling each other- but you? It wasn’t exactly what you had in mind when he’d texted you and asked if you were free to hang out.

You know him well enough to know that he’s called you in to be his wingman; someone to keep the beers coming to feed his already brimful confidence, someone that will push him if the chance for him to chat someone up arises. It’s what usually happens when the two of you meet for a drink or for dinner, his eyes wander and his intuition carries him toward the closest thing to a decent lay.

You’ll wave him off with a smile and mouth at him to call you when it’s convenient- usually to update you on how incredible or lacklustre the sex he’d abandoned you for was. You’re not bitter about it, not really, you have to give it to him. At least one of you is getting something. You suppose it’s for lack of trying, what with work and a sheltered nightlife- you can’t exactly say you’re putting yourself out there.

Kyle has tried time after time, sliding folded pieces of paper with your number scrawled on it to punters as they sit at the bar waiting for their drinks or pulling you with him as he ventures to the dance floor- accidentally bumping you into strangers, drawing their eyes and their attention. You appreciate his efforts, but you’re not exactly looking, it’s all the same to you. You’d slept around abit at uni and enjoyed it to a point, chasing that high and filling the endless void of assignments and work placements- you need something more now.

Settling is a scary thought. You’re not sure that’s what you’re after, but you don’t want a meaningless one-night stand either. You haven’t found that happy-healthy medium yet, you can’t be sure it exists. At least not to the men in this town, everyone knows everyone- it’s hard to get away from that.

You grit your teeth hard, feeling the way the cold ebbs its way into your bones. Even the beer isn’t keeping you warm, and that usually does the trick.

“Is it nearly over yet?” Your teeth chatter around the words, Kyle tuts at you.

“You can’t be serious” he turns to look at you, noting that you are in fact very serious. He frowns slightly. “It’s not even halftime yet”.

The sound that’s choked out of your throat makes him quirk a brow. Yet, Kyle’s attention is drawn back to the pitch by the sound of a whistle, some kind of swap between players has stilted the gameplay.

You’re not that well versed in rugby. Have kept up with it here and there, mainly because of Kyle and your boss because it’s all they talk about at work. They put it on every telly in the pub when their favourite team is on and they start to become idle when it comes down to the last few minutes of gameplay- stood there like toddlers that are transfixed by dancing fruits on a screen.

It’s quite funny really, watching Kyle as he barely tries to make it look as though he’s still working- rubbing a dry cloth over an already cleaned down table.

“Oh shit” Kyle’s breath carries on the breeze, drifting across your face as he speaks. It’s just that cold.

“What’s happening?” You mimic Kyle in the way he leans forward in his seat, watching carefully at what’s unfolding on the pitch.

Kyle doesn’t answer, instead watching as the away team’s players crowd together, meanwhile the home team congregates closer to their benches- they’re swapping someone on.

You see a wide smile crack across his face from out the corner of your eye, it pulls you to look at him fully. Seeing his wide-expectant eyes and gaped mouth, you grimace, slightly put off by just how much he’s enjoying watching on- you think you’d rather watch paint dry.

“When do they start brawling, ay? This is boring” you smack your lips together and take a heavy swig of your beer. It warms your throat, barely. Kyle turns to look at you, smiling like an idiot.

“Funny you should say that” he raises his brows and jerks his head in the direction of the players they’re swapping- you follow his gaze, it doesn’t enlighten you in the slightest.

You open your mouth to question him but Kyle beats you to it, already preempting your confusion and overall lack of culture for his favourite sport and his favourite team.

“They’re putting their main prop on, Riley” Kyle’s eyes watch the player in question and so do you, observing his team mates as they pump their fists and clap him on the back- following on as he moves further onto the pitch.

“He fight often?” You ask, eyeing the dark ink that stretches across both of his arms and retreats under the sleeves of his jersey.

There’s skulls and bones and snakes and gnashing teeth that make up a portrait of something that might be a dog. It’s hard to tell from all the way up in the stands; you’re sat within hearing distance of their shouts as the players go over strategy- but your eyes can’t quite focus enough to read the letters that brand his knuckles and the blocks of black ink that cover the backs of his hands. Shame.

Kyle laughs, something deliberate and knowing. “Yeah, you could say that”. His smile is hiding something, you just know it. You raise a wry brow.

“That why he was benched?” The look on Kyle’s face alone tells you all that you need to know, he nods as you shake your head with an unamused sigh.

“He’s been benched the last few games, close to being banned altogether from what I hear” Kyle observes Riley as he speaks, they’re about to restart play with a scrum.

You continue watching the game, noting another player that’s almost as big as Riley is. The back of his jersey reads Mactavish. He has a sharp smile on him, even with his mouth guard, you can’t closely see the rest of his features all that well, apart from his grown out mohawk- you didn’t realise this was the 70s.

Mactavish is quick to be on Riley, jumping high and wrapping his arms around the bigger man’s neck, hanging off him like a scarf. Their mouth-guard-smiles are wide and Riley swats at Mactavish, manhandling him until he’s got him hoisted off the ground entirely- that’s when he pushes him away and kicks his legs out from underneath him. Sending him skidding across the grass.

It’s rough housing. Simple play fighting. Kyle tells you it’s common practice for these two in particular, spending half their time butting heads and charging at each other like rhinos. Much to the dismay of their coach by the sounds of it. A whistle blows and it’s shrill in your ears.

“Pack it in bellends! Head in the game!” There’s a gruff looking man shouting from the side lines, he’s tall and broad with a beanie that’s pulled tight over his head- there’s specks of salt and pepper hairs in his mutton chops.

The two men snap their necks toward the coach and do as their told, trying to kick each others legs out from one another as they run toward where the rest of their team is forming up to restart play.

It’s starting to get interesting, because they’re not half bad to look at, these two, not half bad at all. Mactavish especially, bar the haircut. Riley on the other hand, he’s got that unconventional attractiveness about him; with his wonky nose and ashen blonde hair, hooded eyes that contrast heavily- they’re as dark as his tattoos. Perhaps it’s the way he carries himself too- his wide shoulders and thick chest, strong and solid and unbothered by the way the other men move out of his way when he passes the opposite team.

You don’t realise you’re gawping until Kyle waves his hand in front of your face, making you blink. He laughs to himself.

“Like what you see?” He asks, amused, watching as your cheeks flare. You bristle.

“Fuck off” you hate being caught out, especially after giving Kyle gripe this whole time about how boring all of this is. You stand abruptly, “I’m off to get something to eat, you want something?” Kyle eyes you, a smirk creeping up his face.

“Something salty if you don’t mind” he wags his brows and you smother your palm into his face as you squeeze past his legs to retreat down the steps toward the food kiosks. You hear his laugh follow you as you reach the bottom of the steps.

You keep an eye on the game as you walk, flitting your eyes from the pitch to the ground so you don’t slip on the steps. As you steal another glance over toward the home team, you find a pair of bright blue eyes looking right back at you. So blue they practically glow, burning right through you. As blue as celestite, something shines in them when he looks at you- but you’re quick to look away and scurry down the steps. Cheeks heating once again, for reasons even you’re not sure of.

It’s without your knowledge that Mactavish’s eyes follow you the entire time as you retreat. His stare trained on you. Distracted completely. Riley is quick to bring him back to earth, watching Mactavish watch you, he grunts as he steps toward the Scotsman, yanking out his mouth guard with a wet shlack sound.

“You ‘aven’t got a chance, now move your arse” Riley smacks the back of Mactavish’s head when he doesn’t move, watching you right up until the point you disappear out of his view. The Scot smiles wildly around his mouth guard, then spits it into his hand.

“Wanna bet?” he turns to Riley and Riley has seen that look before, many times, and it’s never ended well. Yet, he raises a brow as he looks down at the Scot, matching that same look himself.

After paying extortionate prices for a portion of chips and a burger to split you forego another beer each and go for water instead. It’s blatant daylight robbery.

You make a point not to look out onto the pitch as you make your way back to Kyle, save yourself from embarrassment and ending up falling on your arse. Kyle moves his knees to allow you past and you slump down into the seat, offering up the food to him so you can take a swig of water.

“You okay? You look flush, was it a long walk?” He picks up a few chips at a time as he shoves them into his mouth, chewing quickly and blowing air through his mouth from how piping hot they still are. You throw him a look, an unimpressed look.

“I’m freezing my tits off Kyle and I’m hungry, allow it” it’s a whine that leaves your mouth and Kyle soothes you mockingly, offering you some chips- you take them gladly.

Halftime comes and goes. The food has sated you, if only a little bit, but it saves Kyle from any more of your complaining. You find it easier to follow now, a belly full of food and the rest of Kyle’s beer that he didn’t want to finish- it makes you more palpable, makes you sit a little less stiff in your horribly uncomfortable plastic seat. Kyle appreciates it.

Mactavish and Riley don’t escape your eyes, not for the remainder of the game. It’s easier to gawp at them from up here, if they glanced over they wouldn’t exactly know that your eyes are fixed on them specifically, all they’d see is a pair of eyes looking in their general direction- obviously just following the ball as it passes hands. Little do you know, that they are indeed glancing over, as fixed on you as you are them, they’re just better at being sly with it. Only moving their eyes and not their heads and necks, not making it obvious. Not until Mactavish ups the ante.

It’s as you’re distracted for a second, turning your attention to your phone- your boss, Nik, asking if you can come in tonight. You text back quickly, letting him know you’ll see him at six. Looks like Kyle isn’t getting away from me at all today. That’s when you feel Kyle’s elbow in your ribs.

“Ow” you make a point to overemphasise, nudging his arm away from you like his touch burns.

“Look” his hand pats down repeatedly on your thigh as his opposite hand points towards the pitch, your eyes follow the point of his finger and your face pales.

It’s Mactavish. Waving both arms to get your attention, and when he has it his face beams- it makes you sink down into your seat, beyond blushed and embarrassed. He continues to wave as he rejoins the play, you watch the teams come back his way and then he winks at you, moving to turn fully to flank a teammate.

“Lucky bitch” Kyle’s mouth hangs open in shock, looking from you to Mactavish as he darts across the pitch. You groan.

“You have him then” Kyle laughs but you don’t, as nice as the player is to look at, you’re not in the mood for games.

“He wasn’t waving at me, love” he wags his brows and grabs your arm, flailing it around as he giggles like an idiot, far more excited for this than you are. You sit stock still and ignore Kyle, hoping he’ll pack it in. He does- eventually.

Before long, the game finishes and it’s the home team who are victorious. They jump and shout and knock into one another, again pulling each other into embraces and slapping each other’s backs with closed fists. It’s all well and good, you stand and pull Kyle with you- you’ve had enough of Rugby for one day.

Kyle lets himself be pulled along, filtering out amongst the thinning crowd. You’ve both got a few hours before you’re due to go into work, a quick nap wouldn’t go amiss, you guess it depends how fast Kyle can drive.

You’re walking in step with Kyle, careful of the slippy stairs, you clutch the sleeve of his jacket for stability and then there’s a voice that rings out. Thick with a Scottish accent and with an abundance of audacity to go with it.

“Oi! She yer lass or wha’?” It’s Mactavish, and he’s looking directly at Kyle, jogging over toward the stands.

Kyle stiffens and you glance at his face, he looks startled. Or would it be star struck? These players are celebrities to Kyle, you imagine this isn’t how he would want his first interaction with them to go. You watch Mactavish as he vaults over the first set of barriers, coming closer to where Kyle is now frozen to the spot- you’re stuck alongside him.

The stands are completely separate to the pitch and are raised up off of the ground instead of starting right at the pitch side, so Mactavish can’t actually get that close to talk. He instead has to settle for standing about ten foot beneath where you and Kyle are stood, craning his neck to grin up at the two of you. From this improved distance you can see him a lot clearer. There’s a prominent scar that cuts through his right eyebrow and reaches down his cheek and there’s the slight growth of stubble coming through on his cheeks and chin. He’s more handsome close up, you’ll give him that, it goes with the brashness he exudes. He knows he’s pretty.

He’s out of breath as he stands there, hands on his hips and so sweat slicked that you can see the way it drips down from his chin to his chest. It’s his eyes, still, they’re hardly natural. So bright and pale and beautiful to look at, you could fall right into them.

“Well?” The Scot wants an answer, you’re sure he won’t move until he’s got one.

Kyle wets his lips to speak but you cut him off.

“I’m no one’s lass, mate” there’s certain ways to hit on women, and coming right up to them and asking whoever they happen to be with if they’re single or not isn’t the best way- not in your humble opinion at least.

“Good news f’me then” his smirk cracks across his face, impossibly wide, your face doesn’t change at all. Still not impressed.

“What makes you think that?” It’s a honest question for him, does he think that because he plays a sport (sometimes)professionally that you’ll let him get in your pants? Does he seriously think that?

The man dips his chin as he stands there, shaking his head, it messes up the sweat-soaked length of his mohawk, when he looks back up at you again it’s messier then it had been. His smile is just as wide as before, his eyes crinkle from the autumnal sun as it beams from behind you. He flattens a palm to his chest and taps against it.

“Names Johnny” you raise a brow at him but it doesn’t deter him, not even in the slightest.

You’re not giving him clear indicators that you’re completely uninterested, more so that you don’t appreciate how he’s gone about the whole thing. Again, you must admit, he’s very lovely to look at.

It’s quick when you walk away, a game of chase, he can suffer for his pig-headedness. Kyle stands there, a little more than dumbfounded, while he wants to follow you- he also wants to speak with Mactavish, he’s been a fan for a long time. When he turns to look at the Scot down below, he finds him still smiling up at him, there’s a look of mischief in his eyes.

Only a few feet behind him stands another, it’s Riley, and he’d heard every word of your conversation with Johnny. He guesses the game is set now they know for sure that you’re single, but let’s be honest, they would have both been game even if you weren’t.

______________________________________

“Hold on a second, say that again?” Your jaw is locked tight, molars grinding, he can’t be serious.

Kyle scratches at the back of his head, sheepishly, there’s worry lines that are creasing his forehead as he looks between you and Nik. Good, he should be worried where you’re concerned. He fucked up.

“Look I said I’m sorry, alright? What was I supposed to say to him?” Kyle sits on a stool at the bar, opposite to where you and Nik stand side by side on the other side of it.

Nik throws you a glance and you shake your head at him, he’s just as unimpressed as you are, you both know that Kyle is smarter then this- at least, he is most of the time.

“How about not telling him where I work? Thats a start. May as well tell him where I live, Kyle” your tone drifts, while Kyle is your friend, he clearly hadn’t thought before he’d spoken. Thinking more about impressing his rugby idols than the safety of his best mate, these guys could be any breed of weirdo for all you know.

“I agree with her Kyle, you need to think before you say things like that” Nik folds his arms over his chest, thick brows furrowed as he stares at Kyle, who is scratching a single finger against the polished wood of the bar top.

You aren’t trying to gang up on him, he knows he shouldn’t have told Mactavish anything, but he still did- that wouldn’t change just because he suddenly felt bad. He’s got some grovelling to do, to say the least.

“Do you want to head home? I’m sure we can find a way to manage, doll” Nik’s eyes find yours, he’s always been a softie, always looking out for you like you’re the kid he never had. Your brows furrow.

“Absolutely not, I’m not about to be bullied out of work by a bunch of thick skulled ball chasers. Let ‘em try something Nik, they’ll soon find out” you leave the conversation at that, following the repeated wails of the glasswasher in the back as it lets you know it’s ready to be emptied.

—————————————————————————

For the most part, the night is typical. It’s a busy Saturday night in a louder part of town and there’s everyone from regulars to students to tourists. It’s an easier night for you thanks to Kyle, his want to get back in your good books means he’s doing all of the shit jobs. Cleaning the bogs and serving tables. Clearing the glasses away and scrubbing the sticky tables. All while you’re tucked behind the bar pulling pints and making drinks, it’s something you could get used to, Kyle should piss you off more often if this is the treatment you get.

You watch the clock out of habit and notice it’s almost half nine, only an hour and half before you close, not long before you can go home and wash the day away and sleep all of this off. You just have to get through another hour and a half unscathed, that’s it.

Mactavish dashes those plans.

Before you see them, you hear them. It looks like the whole team might be here, they pile in through the door and already look as if they’re half Irish. You fight the urge to roll your eyes, knowing you’re in full view of not just them but other customers too.

Mactavish squeezes through the bodies as they linger around the booths and seats, not all able to fit comfortably, Mactavish sings your name.

“Fancy seein’ you here, bonnie” he grins wide, no longer obstructed by the mouth guard.

Compared to earlier when he was covered in grass stains and sweat, you hate to admit that he scrubs up well. Dressed casually with a shirt that’s close to matching his eyes, he doesn’t seem like the type if you’re honest.

“Oh yes, what a coincidence” the sarcasm reaches, you watch it in his eyes, the way his jaw flexes. He smiles and shakes his head.

“Tough nut to crack, ain’t ya?” He’s unapologetic with the way his eyes wander, the music thumps loudly in your ears but you can still hear the heaviness the alcohol adds to his tongue.

“What makes you think I wanna be cracked?” You make a point to busy your hands, to do anything to distract you from his eyes, there’s lemons in front of you that need slicing- they’ll suffice.

He raises a brow at that. Sliding his elbows onto the bar, bringing his height down to yours, eye to eye, if you’d just look at him.

“Saw the way you were lookin’ at me bonnie” he drops his tone, practically husks the words, he’s teasing. You laugh.

“Bein’ pretty bold to say I’ve got a knife in my hand” you hammer the point in, bringing the knife down heavier then before against the chopping board only to raise it up to slide your finger across it to catch the juice. He watches you carefully.

“You know how to use it?” He asks, again teasing, seeing how much he can get away with. He wants to soften you up. It’ll take more than that.

“D’you wanna find out?” It’s an open question, depending on how he behaves he could very well lose a finger, you’d deal with any charges he might want to press tomorrow. He just grins at you stupidly.

“I wanna take you out” he leans forward, reaching an arm over the bar to swipe a lemon slice, you watch as he sucks it into his mouth. Never breaking his eyes from yours, he’s got you.

“I want a lot of things, doesn’t mean I can have ‘em” you haven’t clocked him yet, not completely, he seems pretty harmless. But don’t they all?

He hums, sliding the lemon out of his mouth between his fingers, considering you. “Could give ‘em to you” his eyes meet yours but you’re quick to look away, returning to the lemons.

You scoff. “If I agree to a date will you go away? I’m working” just because you agree to something doesn’t mean you’re obliged, you’ll think on it more clearly when you’re not at work- being stared at by those burning blue eyes.

“Pretty rubbish conditions if ye ask me” he slurps at the lemon obnoxiously, you see the flash of a tongue piercing.

“Well forget it then-“ he interjects.

“Chill yerself bonnie, I’m goin’” he holds his hands up in surrender as he stands back to his full height, the lemon slice is replaced back between his teeth- for a brief moment.

He moves to step away but he’s quick to turn on his heel, chewing the lemon down till it slots inside his cheek. “Be back for yer number to arrange that date” he wags a finger in your general direction as he speaks, quickly turning back toward the booth where his teammates are all squashed in together.

—————————————————————————

Half an hour. Just half an hour and you can start to close up. It’s the light at the end of the tunnel.

Mactavish had behaved since leaving you at the bar, hardly looking in your direction, which you appreciated. You didn’t need him and his stupid blue eyes knocking you off of your concentration, not when you’re handling this much glass. You steal a glance over at his table from time to time, hearing his roaring laugh and watching the way he interacts with his mates. They all look close. Perhaps it’s the alcohol, making them soft, sitting on each other’s thighs with arms slung around each others necks. You imagine it’s normal that they’re all so close, they must spend hours and hours and hours together just training let alone at matches.

It’s quietening down now as a whole, some tables still linger to chatter, like the rugby lot. Most have gone now, moving onto the better clubs, this is just a pit stop usually- somewhere to line their stomachs before they get so paralytic that they’re soon laid in the streets laughing their heads off or spewing their guts up.

It’s an opportune time to start clearing glasses, now that the bar is quiet if not ready to close. Gaz is in the cellar doing whatever it is that he does down there, you hate it down there. So you’ll take the better job of clearing glasses and shoving them in the washer, fully prepared to forget about them until you’re back tomorrow.

This is usually the case, balancing a dozen glasses on one tray because you’re too lazy to make two trips. You’re so close to the bar, almost within reaching distance, and then someone from the rugby table throws his hands up and throws you off balance.

You close your eyes as you feel yourself tumbling, you’ve had too many shards of glass blasted out of your eyes by Nik and his saline bottle of doom, so you squeeze them shut tightly. There’s suddenly a warm pressure that coils around your waist but you’re too distracted by the sound of the glasses smashing to think about it. You dare to crack your eyes open, gaze immediately falling to the ground and seeing the mess that you’ve made. For fucks sake. Your eyes skate from the broken glass on the floor to the hand at your waist, gripping you tight, flush with something solid.

From up close you can see now that the tattoos on his left knuckles read soul.

Riley’s breathing is heavy against your spine and you don’t move, you daren’t move, and it seems Riley is much the same. Not until you hear a whistle from across the rugby table.

“Looks real cosy, Simon” that accent, it’s Johnny.

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