#it feels like it can work but when he was gone the other day after our first talk abt it i felt so sure it wouldnt work so i need to

[nadvs]

the power play (part eight) (end)

pairing hockeyplayer! rafe cameron x tutor! reader

rating mature 18+

summary rafe is your complete opposite. the only thing you have in common with the hockey player you tutor is that he’s also recently had his heart broken. in a last-ditch effort to make the people who hurt you regret it, you agree to pretend to date.

Time folds into itself as you lie in Rafe’s bed, slipping in and out of a tired daze, lulled by the sound of his heartbeat.

When he shifts and exhales a sharp wince, you don’t know how many minutes have passed, but you’re sure it’s time to leave, to give him all the space he can get in his bed.

“I should go,” you whisper, sitting up slowly.

He’s in a trance, his shoulder aching, exhaustion seeped into his bones.

Your warmth is gone.

He sees your figure in the dark.

You leave as quietly as possible.

════════

The next day, Rafe walks out through the campus gym doors after meeting with his coach and physical therapist. Turns out the tear isn’t nearly as bad as it could’ve been, but as expected, there’s no chance in hell he can play for a while. He’s out of tournament.

He’s lost. It’s like he forgot his own name. Hockey is the constant in his life, or it was, and it’s messing with his head that he won’t be spending hours training or practicing or playing anymore. Instead, he’ll either be in physio or resting, and the closest he can get to the ice is on the bench.

His coach had said that at least it happened at the end of the season, that he’s only a sophomore with so much ahead of him, but all Rafe can feel is disappointment ripping through him.

His phone buzzes with a text from you.

I hope you’re ok. Guessing you can’t make it today?

Right. It’s Thursday. He’s supposed to meet you for tutoring in an hour.

If he never hurt himself last night, if today was a normal day, he’d be in class right now, his morning workout done, his body buzzing with the hot anticipation that he feels every time he’s about to see you.

But today’s far from normal. You said nothing after he kissed you last night. He’s an idiot for making a move on a girl who’d told him so many times that she doesn’t want a boyfriend.

But you’re the one who curled up next to him, who cried over his pain as if it were your own, who told him you care about him.

It’s insane what you do to him. He never runs in circles like this, never dwells on what a girl might be thinking, because he doesn’t have to. In any other situation, he’d cut to the chase and tell you that he wants you.

But the embarrassment from what happened last night still stings. He wouldn’t survive it, hearing you say you don’t see him like that, that you’re not looking for a relationship. When he’s so sure it’d end in an awkward rejection, what’s the point?

After everything that happened in the last 24 hours, it’s a loss he wouldn’t be able to cope with.

════════

You’re writing in your agenda as you wait in the study room, your pen smoothly gliding over paper. Your phone is sitting beside your notebook, and you unlock it to reread Rafe’s text from half an hour ago.

I can make it.

You’re tense about seeing him after last night.

You don’t know what to do. There’s no misinterpreting it. He kissed your forehead and there’s no way he would do that if he didn’t feel something deeper than friendship for you.

Still, it’s sad how hard it is to believe that a guy sees you like that, all because of the mark that Beck left on you. Rafe had once called you clueless about this stuff, and he was right.

The memory of how he’d snapped at you in the car that night serves as a reminder of how cold he can be, and how you’re not entirely confident you could handle loving someone like that.

You’re carrying too much baggage. So is he. You’d thought Rafe came into your life at the perfect time, but if anything, the timing couldn’t be worse.

You’re still working through your heartbreak and you don’t know if you can be with someone when you need to work on yourself. Especially when that someone distances himself from you whenever you ask the wrong question.

You’re scared. If you gave Rafe your heart, truly, all the way, there’s no telling if it’d be in good hands.

His broad figure appears in the doorway, his expression guarded.

“Hey.”

“Hi,” you say. You motion to your own arm, immediately noticing that he’s not wearing the sling you saw him in last night. “You don’t need the…?”

“It’s not that bad,” Rafe murmurs, nudging the door shut with his good elbow.

“I thought you tore it,” you say, your voice laced with concern. He sits down with his elbow bent, his injured arm tight against his body.

“I’m not going to need surgery or anything,” he repeats what he discussed earlier at the gym. “Few months of physio and meds and I’ll be good.”

“And rest, right?” you say. “You forgot to mention rest.”

“What do you know?” he says with a small smirk.

You mirror his smile, glad that although something so awkward is weighing over both of you, you can share a lighthearted moment.

“A lot,” you reply. You hold up your pen. “Do I need to give you another reminder tattoo?”

He scoffs, but he’s not sure he could tell you no if he tried, especially if the offer includes you touching him.

To your surprise, he lays his forearm on the desk. You chuckle, leaning forward, gently writing rest! on the inside of his wrist, right where you’d written your study room number on him all those nights ago.

“I think I have a future in this,” you say, admiring your work. He gazes at you as you tilt your head and blow cool air over the wet ink. “How are you?”

“Good,” he answers, in a melancholy daze. “You?”

“I’m good,” you reply. You meet his eyes again. “So, only a few months until you’re better? What’s the healing process going to be like?”

“The physio gave me a whole list of crap I gotta do,” he answers with a sigh.

“Do you have it with you?”

He hands you the sheet of paper jammed at the side of his backpack. You read over the instructions, tips on managing pain, on the importance of nutrition and rest, on avoiding rigorous activities.

You skim over one of the bullet-points in the middle. Sleep on your back with the injured arm supported.

“They even tell you how to sleep?” you try to joke. “So, you shouldn’t have someone else on top of you. Lesson learned.”

What happened last night is out in the open now, the atmosphere strained with tension. Your eyes are still on the page. He can see you’re uncomfortable and he respects that you’re addressing it.

“I shouldn’t have…” He grimaces, embarrassed all over again. He has no choice but to brush the kiss off, to lie his way out of this. “I was on a lot of painkillers last night.”

He wants you to look disappointed so badly that it makes him ache, because then he’d take his words back and call bullshit on himself. But when you glance up at him, the look on your face is one of relief.

“Don’t worry about it,” you say, looking back down at the paper. You’re alleviated of your anxiety. He either didn’t mean the kiss, or he doesn’t want it to turn into something, and it’s better this way. Safer. “How often do you have to do therapy?”

Rafe tells himself he can deal with the hurt later, that now’s not the time to lose it, even though he’s on the edge. He pulls his laptop out of his bag, finding it so much harder now that he can’t use both arms.

“Twice a week,” he answers, his words stiff.

“And exercises you have to do on your own,” you murmur sympathetically, reading over the page. “This is a lot. I bet you can get accommodations for school. Deadline extensions at the very least.”

You put the paper down, smoothing out the wrinkles, trying to make sense of why your heart is racing right now. Rafe throws you for such a loop that you don’t even know how it’s possible to be both eased and troubled by him shrugging off what happened last night.

“I’m really sorry you can’t play anymore,” you tell him.

“Nothing I can do about it now.”

His scowl is hard as he logs in onto his computer, typing with one hand.

“I’m not just saying this,” you tell him. “The team wouldn’t have made it so far without you.”

He doesn’t need the reminder of what he’s lost, the agony of how much work he put in just to spend the rest of the school year behind the boards.

“Those guys will be fine,” he says with a sardonic chuckle.

It hurts you to see him so sure of it.

“No way,” you reply. “They’ll miss you.”

His throat is raw and he wishes he could just disappear right now, because he’s seconds away from breaking down. His eyes burn and he swallows it down, forcing everything he’s feeling away.

“Let’s not do this, okay?” he says sharply, his gaze still off you.

And with that, Rafe proves your point. That it’s not just you who might be emotionally unavailable, but him, too. Even after what you’d done last night, even after you’ve shared so much with him, you’re kept at an arm’s length, good enough to kiss, but not good enough to be honest with.

“Did you finish the book?” you ask.

“No,” he states, stoic and disinterested.

You’d normally call him out for his bad attitude, but after what he’s gone through, you’d just feel guilty for it.

You compel yourself to just be his tutor right now – not his friend, not the girl he pretended to date – but his tutor, tasked with one job and one job only.

Rafe finally lets his eyes land where they want to be most, on you, when you ask if you can take his laptop to start working on the next assignment.

But you won’t look at him back. He can tell that you don’t want to.

════════

The moment Rafe gets to his dorm room after your tutoring session, he feels like he’s stalling with nothing left to drive him. His thoughts are tangled together, his body aches, and he has no idea what to do next.

He sits on the edge of his bed. He should probably look over those recovery instructions again, email his profs and teaching assistants about accommodations, do some school work to keep himself busy, but it’s like he’s frozen.

He looks down at the floor, his vision going blurry. The only person, if anyone, he could talk to about this right now is you.

But he can’t even do that. Especially not when you’re mad at him. He snapped, and then you were distant and talked only about his schoolwork for the rest of your hour together.

He feels like shit for how he treated you. He didn’t expect to do it, but you can be so stubborn, forcing him to talk about shit that he can’t talk about.

He lies in bed, still in painful disbelief of how quickly things can change, and how he has no control over any of them.

════════

It’s nearing six p.m. when Rafe wakes up. He checks his messages, hoping you texted him like he always does when he picks up his phone. But of course, there’s nothing from you.

He reads over the team’s group chat texts that he didn’t get to answering. After a few messages asking Rafe how he is after Coach told everyone he’s out for the season, some of the guys texted about a party tonight.

Being surrounded by noise and getting a break from reality sounds like just what he needs. And because he misses you and has no willpower when it comes to you, he texts you: Down to go to a party tonight?

You reply minutes later: Look at your tattoo.

He smirks to himself, glancing down at the word you’d written on his skin, and texts you again: I’ll just be standing there. That counts as rest.

You’re walking through campus to grab dinner, staring at your phone as you weave through crowds, your stomach in a knot.

It’s been that way since Rafe left the study room earlier today. You hate that you’re back in this headspace, overanalyzing, wondering what a man really feels about you.

You did it for years with Beck, going back and forth between being sure he liked you and feeling sad that he didn’t.

It shouldn’t be this complicated. You have fun with Rafe. He gets you, and you think you get him. He’s flawed, but so are you, and that doesn’t mean things can’t work out.

But it feels impossible. You’re not sure you can give each other what you both need. And you’re still hurting from the way he’d brushed you off today yet again, refusing to let you in.

With an aching heart, you text back: Sorry, I can’t tonight.

════════

Rafe’s limbs are heavy and hot as he leans against a wall, surrounded by his closest friends on the team. He’s letting them do the talking, too in his head to even think about having any real fun.

He wishes you were here.

He heads towards the kitchen to grab a drink. He spots a familiar face. And it’s the last thing he needs.

“Hey,” Emma says, leaning over the counter as she fills up a cup. “Where’s your little girlfriend? Not hanging onto you like usual?”

It’s the first words she’s spoken to him since their breakup. That night feels like a lifetime ago.

“What the fuck are you doing talking to me?” he mutters.

Her eyebrow raises in that infuriating way that tells him she’s enjoying getting a rise out of him.

“Warning you,” she laughs. “She’s kind of twisted. I don’t know if a normal person would hear all about your red flags and then like, cling onto you.”

“What’d you say to her?” he asks, his jaw tensing.

“She didn’t tell you?”

“We don’t talk about you.”

Rafe hates that it’s a lie, that he wasted so much of his limited time with you talking about someone else.

“I just told her the truth,” she says.

His nostrils flare as he glares down at her, at a loss for how he ever thought he saw any good in her. After he’s gotten to know you, after he’s seen what it’s like when someone treats him like he’s not a burden, he could never want someone like Emma again.

“I’m sure it’s nothing she hasn’t seen for herself by now,” she says when he doesn’t respond. “Obviously, she heard what an asshole you are. That must be her type. Or it could’ve been the part I said about how pathetic you were, crying to get back together. Maybe she wants to fix you.”

So, that was your first impression of him. That’s what you’ve kept from him.

Rafe heads back to his friends without saying another word. There was a time he was dying for Emma to talk to him. Now, he can’t waste another second around her.

He got what he wanted. She’s jealous. And that guy he saw her with before isn’t around.

He won.

But the victory is hollow.

════════

“It’s not pretty,” Isaac tells you, one foot outside the locker room, “but I got everybody to write something.”

“Thank you,” you say, taking the card. You look around the hall again, as if Rafe will catch you, even though you know he wouldn’t be in this part of the arena right before the semi-final game.

“I did say I owe you,” he replies.

“He’s watching from the bench?” you ask.

“Yeah,” Isaac answers, wincing. “How is he?”

“Fine, I guess,” you reply with a sad shrug. “He won’t really talk about it.”

You haven’t heard from Rafe since last night after you texted him back. But based on how Isaac’s acting, you can tell he hasn’t told anyone about your breakup, saving you from having to come up with any explanations.

“The guy’s a vault,” Isaac half-chuckles.

You nod, glancing down at the card, opening it up to see messy, scribbled messages from the guys on the hockey team written across the inside.

You’d bought the blank card at an on-campus convenience store after asking Isaac if the team did anything to commemorate Rafe after his forced departure. When he told you everyone was too preoccupied with the tournament, you took it upon yourself to do something.

You’re not upset with Rafe anymore. Not after you’ve taken time to reflect that he doesn’t have to tell you anything he doesn’t want to, no matter how much you wish he would. Not when you recall how heartbroken he was when he insinuated that his teammates won’t miss him.

“It’s nice of you to do this for him,” Isaac offers.

“Thanks. I think he needs to hear that people care about him.” You take a step back. “Good luck tonight.”

════════

It’s difficult for you to even imagine watching the semi-finals. You tell Lyla you’re too swamped with studying to attend.

The truth is that you know sitting in those stands will just make you feel the lack of Rafe, the wrongness of him not being on the ice, the gap in your chest that he left.

It’ll break your heart to see him on the bench, instead of in the game where he belongs.

You stop by his dorm room to slide the card under his door. And then, you go home to distract yourself with schoolwork, hoping that with enough time, you can finally feel like yourself again.

════════

You send the text a few minutes after you check to see that the team won, left with one more game to potentially win the championship.

Can you come over?

Nerves stitch your stomach when you receive his response that he’ll be there in twenty minutes.

Eventually, there are soft raps on your door, and when you open it, Beck looks exactly how you expected him to. Confused.

“I’m going to talk,” you tell him, “and I want you to listen and be honest with me, got it?”

He nods, brows furrowed as you step aside. He walks into your room, leaning against your desk as you sit on your bed.

You take a deep breath, nervous but already relieved that years of pressure will be off your shoulders after you say this.

“You know what you did to me,” you say, “and I don’t want you to pretend like you don’t. You strung me along. For years. You knew I liked you, didn’t you?”

Beck glances to the side, adjusting in his haphazard seat.

“It's not like I…” he mumbles.

“What?”

“I liked you, too,” he says, looking like it pains him to admit it. “I – I do like you. Still.”

It’s not what you expected.

“Since when?” you say in a huff of disbelief.

“It’s been a long time,” he answers.

You can only scoff. He sighs, clearly uncomfortable.

“You’re my sister’s best friend,” he says quietly. “Can you imagine how weird it would be if it didn’t work out?”

It’s a sudden, overwhelming realization, hitting you like an ice cold wave. The only reason he never acted on his feelings was because he was afraid of a mere possibility. Maybe it wouldn’t end well, so he saw no reason to even try.

“That’s why?” you say. “Why not just tell me?”

“Because of this,” he says tensely, motioning between you.

“Because of an awkward conversation?” you say. “How is that any better than what happened after your final? You stopped talking to me after that.”

“I thought… with time, we’d go back to how it was,” he mumbles. “And that maybe, we’d both just lose feelings. But then you started dating Rafe and… I can’t handle seeing it. You shouldn’t be with him.”

You hate how he said Rafe’s name, as if it was a swear word. It’s the only thing you can focus on. Not that he just told you what you’ve been wanting to hear for years. Just that he speaks about Rafe like he’s bad.

And Rafe isn’t bad. He can be difficult and short-tempered, but he can also be warm. Passionate. Funny. Caring.

And you love him.

Damn it. You love him.

“I don’t need you worrying about who I’m dating, okay?” you say sharply. “Maybe if you were a friend, sure, but you’re barely even that anymore.”

“Why are you talking like this?”

Beck seems jarred by your contempt. You’re surprised yourself. You always thought you’d sugarcoat your words with him, that you’d care about his feelings too much to ever be brutally transparent.

But this is necessary. And you realize you couldn’t have gotten here without Rafe.

“Because I deserve honesty,” you say. You let out a shaky sigh. “I know you didn’t want to have a hard conversation, but avoiding it led to this. An even harder one. You weren’t wrong to worry that we would never work out. We wouldn’t. I just want things to be civil from now on. Like you said, Lyla’s my best friend.”

Beck shakes his head slightly. It almost looks like he had some semblance of hope that this conversation would go another direction.

“You know he’ll just hurt you, right?” he says. “I saw him fighting with his old girlfriend all the time. He’s a jerk.”

“You don’t know him,” you mutter. “And you’re in no place to call him that. Not after how you treated me. You expected I’d always be on the sidelines, waiting for you, and then got mad when I started seeing someone else. It isn’t fair.”

Beck shakes his head in frustration and walks to the door, but stops himself before he turns the doorknob.

“I’m sorry,” he says, his back still to you. “You’re right. Let’s… be civil.”

It’s a glimpse into why you once liked him so much. He has a soft heart, desperate to run from conflict. But conflict is inevitable. And you can’t be with someone who doesn’t see that.

“Okay,” you say to his back.

The door shuts behind Beck with a hard thud, closing a chapter you’re glad to see end.

════════

You eventually text Rafe: Are you going out with the team? I’m free. Just saying.

Now more than ever, you miss him. It feels silly to distance yourself, to do exactly what Beck did with you and stay away from someone just because there’s a chance that it’ll end badly.

Every part of you longs for him, for the feeling you get when you’re around him, and you can only hope he wants to see you tonight, too.

He responds that he’s on his way to pick you up.

════════

Rafe pulls up to your building, unable to stop his mind from stumbling down memory lane. He idled here for the first time so long ago, with only revenge on his mind, waiting for a ridiculously cheerful and talkative girl to sit in his passenger seat.

When you open the car door and flaunt your bright smile as you climb in, it’s like his heart found its way back to him, like you hold onto it when you aren’t together and parade it around when you are.

“Was it you?” he asks.

“Was what me?” you say.

“The card.”

You grin, glad he got a chance to go back to his room before coming to pick you up. You don’t need the recognition. You’re just glad he seems happy about it.

You notice both of his hands on the steering wheel, recalling how he could only type with one a few days ago.

“Nice,” you say, buckling your seatbelt. “Your pain meds must be working. That’s great. I have to tell you something. I finally talked to Beck. I kind of… told him off, I guess. And… you can say you told me so. You were right. He did like me. Or actually, he does. It was a lot to take in.”

Rafe grimaces, hating to hear that the guy you once said you loved told you he wants you, too. He drives out onto the road, his body tense.

“I told him that it’ll never happen,” you continue. “And he was bitter. And he’s convinced things are going to end badly with you and me. I wonder how we should tell people we’re broken up. Do we just… mention it if they ask? I haven’t told anyone. You haven’t either, right?”

You finally look over at him, gazing at his profile.

Rafe is relieved that you really are done with Beck, that you’re acting like yourself, that you’re in his car again, rambling, filling his life with a light he never had before.

He’d rather not talk about your fake breakup. And definitely not about Beck. He doesn’t have it in him to waste any time with you focusing on someone who hurt you.

“Just admit it,” he murmurs.

“Admit what?”

“The card,” he mutters playfully.

You sigh, realizing he won’t let you get away with not taking credit for it.

“Did Isaac tell you?” you ask.

“Nobody told me.”

“If you want to call me corny, just do it,” you laugh. “Never stopped you before.”

Rafe smiles sadly. Admittedly, it felt good to read the messages from the guys, seeing that they really will miss him. But he doesn’t deserve you doing that for him after the way he lost his cool on you.

“I thought you were pissed at me,” he says.

“I was, a little,” you confess.

“Sorry I snapped,” Rafe says regretfully. “If you were mad, then why’d you do it?”

His voice is soft, just like it was when he’d asked you why you came to his room the night he injured himself.

“That’s why,” you say. “You always seem so surprised that people care about you. I just wanted to give you proof that they do.”

You interlace your fingers together, glancing out the window.

“And it’s okay. I’m not mad anymore,” you say. “I think at some point, I started to take it personally when you don’t want to talk to me. Sorry. I don’t mean to force you. I’ll stop.”

Rafe taps his thumb on the steering wheel. For once, he doesn’t want you to stop.

“It’s because it’s new for me,” he mumbles, giving in.

“What?”

“Someone caring as much as you do is new for me,” he replies. “That’s why I seem surprised. It throws me off.”

Your lips part, but the words won’t form. You’re in shock that he’s opening up, especially when you didn’t ask him to, when you just told him you’ll stop pushing.

“And I’m not used to getting asked so many questions,” Rafe says. “You never stop.”

“I am kind of relentless,” you say, crinkling your nose and smiling. “You make me curious, though.”

“I can tell,” he mumbles, earning a chuckle from you. “We’re good now, yeah?”

You’re touched that he worries this much about you being upset with him. Some time in the last few months, throughout your tutoring sessions and the events you attended as a fake couple and all the moments in between, he really did start caring about you.

It’s nice, because you feel the same way about him. How deep those feelings go remains unspoken, and you’re not sure you can face them yet.

“We’re good,” you reply. “I can’t stay mad at you. You’re too charming. In like, a really grumpy, always mad at everything type of way.”

“Wow,” Rafe huffs, pretending to be offended while flashing the smile you always get hypnotized by.

“Was that rude?” you quip. “You’re rubbing off on me.”

His smile widens, certain now that if he only has you like this, as a friend, it’s so much better than not having you at all.

════════

“How’d that presentation go?” Rafe mumbles in your ear.

You’re standing on the bar’s back patio with the team and the rest of the usual social circle, surrounded by music and chatter floating through the warm late spring air.

You’re right next to him, but not touching in any way, because there’s no reason to fake affection anymore. But knowing this doesn’t make it any easier to stay away from him.

“For my group project?” you clarify. “Picture me and three guys in front of a full lecture hall. They’re taking turns reading off of Wikipedia and I’m trying to pretend that I’m not losing my mind.”

Rafe chuckles, enamored.

“I got a good individual grade, though,” you say. “Wait. Did you ever check what you got on your midterm?”

“No.”

“Please do,” you say, bringing your clasped hands to your chin.

He sucks his teeth, a little nervous as he pulls his phone out of his pocket. He feels your cheek against his good shoulder as you lean in to look.

“An A,” you say proudly, leaning against him, your hand curled around his bicep. You did it without thinking, the closeness feeling more natural than anything you’ve felt before, a hard contrast to how hesitant you’d once been to touch him.

“Thought we broke up,” he murmurs, glancing down at your hand on his arm. It’s his way of testing why you’re touching him like this, aching to hear you say you’re doing it because you want to.

You look up through your lashes, eyes trained on his, silence sweeping over you. You have to feel it, too. He’s sure of it.

“Right,” you reply with a chuckle, hoping to smile your way out of the split in your chest. “Yeah. We are.”

You let go, crossing your arms as you awkwardly look away. You should have known your instincts were wrong, that Rafe is just another guy leading you on, confusing you, whether it be on purpose or not.

He can’t take what it feels like when you pull away like that. He once thought he could handle not acting on his feelings for you, but he can’t. He needs to know what’s so wrong with him, if Emma’s words poisoned you before he even had a chance with you.

“Is it because of what she said?” he says, squaring his shoulders to face you, to try to separate both of you from the rest of the group.

“Is what because of-”

“Emma told me what she said to you,” he interrupts.

You gaze up at him, wide-eyed.

“You talked to her?” you ask. Imagining it wrings your heart out, jealousy pooling through you.

He nods, his jaw tight, looking at you like you’re the one who needs to explain something here. Your forehead crinkles, your face falling with disappointment.

“I thought you didn’t care what she thinks,” you say.

“I don’t.”

You look down, as if you can find the answer somewhere on the ground. Your heart is racing, your mind spinning.

“Are you okay?” you hear.

Rafe looks over his shoulder to see that Beck has walked over, staring at you.

“I’m fine,” you answer.

“I told you this would happen,” Beck says to you.

Rafe meets your eyes again to see that they’re glossed over with tears.

“Fuck off,” he mutters to Beck.

“I’m just looking out for her,” Beck says.

“I look out for her,” Rafe says angrily. His raised voice earns a few side-eyes, the conversations around you silencing.

“Do you?” Beck asks.

Rafe breathes a humorless chuckle, rage coursing through him as he turns around, his back to you, his fists clenched.

“Don’t,” you say. “You’ll get hurt.”

There’s a hole in Rafe’s chest when he hears the concern in your voice for Beck. But when he turns around, you’re gazing up at him instead.

“You’re already in enough pain,” you say to him, your eyes drifting over his aching shoulder. He stares at you in awe, again, like he’s in shock that you worry about him. “Let’s talk out front.”

You don’t wait for him to agree. You storm back into the bar, darting through the throngs of people, pushing the heavy entrance door.

Your shoes pad over the concrete, your breaths unstable as you pass by the small crowds outside the bar.

You round the corner, finding a quiet pocket of privacy in the dark parking lot, next to the wall. You turn to see Rafe right behind you, facing you, his chest heaving.

“What’d she tell you that she said to me, exactly?” you ask, crossing your arms.

Rafe is in disbelief that he led himself back to doing this, talking about his past relationship with you again, letting it bleed into whatever it is that he has with you.

“That I’m a pathetic asshole,” he begrudgingly answers, his features shadowed in the darkness. “That I – I cried.”

“Her words don’t mean anything,” you tell him.

“She’s right, though, isn’t she?” he asks. “You agree. Just be honest with me. Tell me all of it. No more bullshit.”

Tears continue to sting your eyes, afraid you’re going to hurt him, but too worn down to fight.

“She said you were moody and mean,” you relent, “and yes, that you called her crying when you wanted to get back together. And you know what? The only person I thought was an asshole was her. She’s the pathetic one, okay?”

Rafe searches your face, his features hard, in pain.

“She was horrible to you,” you say. “You deserve someone better.”

What’s left of his composure burns away. He drops his head, his breaths barely escaping his mouth. He’d do anything to be what you want. Who you need.

“Why can’t it be you?” he asks through a ragged exhale.

You still, your heart pounding in your ears. A tear escapes past your bottom lashes, a result of one of the most overwhelming days of your life.

“What?” you whisper. You brush the wetness off of your skin, silently begging him to look at you again.

“What is it about me that’s so wrong?” he rasps, his voice starting to strain, putting sound to the question that he’s asked himself his whole life.

Rafe finds it in him to meet your gaze, all too acquainted with the sinking feeling of begging someone to love him.

Your eyes sweep over his face, your lips parted in silent shock.

He’s tipping over the edge, in slow, splitting agony, waiting to hear the words he knows you’ll say so he can finally let the hope that’s still somehow living in him die.

“What are you...” you say quietly, needing to hear it, to be sure. “What are you saying? You want me?”

Rafe pinches the bridge of his nose, sending a frustrated, pained exhale towards the starry sky, your name laced in a groan.

“Yes,” he says clearly, staring at you again, frustrated and afraid. “So bad that it fucking hurts.”

You’re able to feel every inch of your body, yet you’re numb all over. It’s an overwhelming, euphoric rush, looking up at the man you’ve given your heart to and knowing for sure that he’s given you his.

You blink as you step a little closer, taking in every inch of him, his messy hair, his handsome face, unable to believe that there was a time you didn’t see the warmth behind his eyes.

You can’t find the words, and for once, you stop trying to. Instead, you follow your impulse and take one more step, your body brushing against his, tipping your chin up.

Rafe swallows hard, his veins tight and hot as your gaze flutters down to his lips.

“You said you wanted it to be real,” he says, a note of disbelief in his voice.

A smile tugs on your lips. In a moment like this, he’s considering what you’d told him about how you wanted your first kiss to be real, showing you how much he listens to the things you say, how much he cares about your comfort.

“It will be,” you say softly.

After wanting you so badly for so long, Rafe can’t be still for another second. He brings his hands up to cradle your face, ignoring the pinch of pain in his shoulder. His heart thumps as he leans closer and gently leads you towards him.

His lips press against yours and every piece of you melts away. You were wrong when you thought his kiss would either be rough or gentle. It’s both, the pressure perfect, the urgency just as present as the tenderness.

He kisses you deeper, his lips hot and soft. When he smiles beneath the kiss, you smile, too, hooking your arms around him, hands splayed over his firm back, because you can’t possibly have him any closer.

He gently guides you backwards, pressing you against the cool brick wall, your face still in his hands, holding you as if you could slip away.

Rafe is warm against you, shifting to kiss the corner of your lips, your cheek, your jaw, the side of your neck. His breath is warm on your skin as you try to catch yours, squeezing him.

He’s never been so sure that he’s where he’s supposed to be. It’s like you’re grounding him with how tight you’re holding him, ensuring him that he’s wanted.

He shifts to kiss your lips again, panting. He pulls back just enough to lock eyes with you, never having felt so lucky before.

But he’s unsure of how to even navigate this when you’ve told him you don’t want a relationship.

“‘I’ll wait,” he murmurs, his thumbs stroking your cheeks. “Until you’re ready.”

“Ready?” you ask.

“To date,” he says.

You smile up at him, your lips still warm from his. You know you both have work to do on yourselves, but you’re confident you can do it together.

“We already dated, didn’t we?” you tease. “I’m ready. If it’s you.”

He sighs a breath of relief, kissing you once more.

════════

You haven’t done much since you made it to Rafe’s dorm room.

You’ve been lying in bed together with your heads on his pillow, his desk lamp blanketing the room in a soft light, facing each other and talking.

“We didn’t tell anyone we were leaving,” you realize, even though you left the bar about half an hour ago.

The way your eyes widen in worry is so adorable to him that he can’t help but kiss you, and he loves that he doesn’t have to hold himself back from doing it anymore.

“Should we go back? Say sorry to everyone?” he murmurs, a smirk on his face.

“Don’t mock me,” you laugh.

“But it’s so easy.”

You scowl at him, although you’re hardly able to stifle your smile.

“Don’t be mad,” he chuckles, planting a kiss on your lips again. Your cheeks burn, still reeling from how intoxicating it is getting touched and kissed by him now that you know it’s real.

“Right, that’s your job,” you joke, nuzzling in, your forehead against his chest.

A pinch of shame digs into him, his hand running up and down the curve of your spine.

“Yeah,” he murmurs, all the happiness from his voice gone.

You shift back to look at him again.

“I was kidding,” you say, your voice thick with worry.

“Nah, it’s true,” Rafe says.

You bite your lip, studying him.

“Is there a reason?” you ask.

“I just… I’ve always been like this,” he admits. “Sometimes, I can’t feel anything but pissed off.”

“It’s an easy emotion to feel.” You gently trace shapes over his chest, your finger skimming over soft cotton. “They say anger is hurt’s bodyguard.”

“You read that somewhere, huh?”

“You know me so well.”

Rafe’s smile is sad. He had no reason to hold back, not anymore.

“Nobody’s ever tried to understand me like you do,” he admits, “and it was shitty of me to get mad at you for trying.”

“Being mad is comfortable for you,” you empathize. “I get it.”

He takes in a slow, deep breath, trying to ignore the tightness in his chest.

“I grew up around a lot of fighting,” he tells you. “It was a relief when my parents split up.”

Rafe’s stomach twists with discomfort, the memories rushing back, the pain of being at that damn birthday party and seeing such a happy family still cutting into him. Seeing a proud father. Seeing a mother who stays.

And he can’t believe he’s saying it out loud, and that he wants to, and that you didn’t even have to ask.

“But then my mom… stopped trying to be a mom,” he continues. “And I was left with my dad and my sisters and it was like to him, they could do no wrong and I was nothing but a fuck-up.”

You look into his eyes, unable to believe that he holds such a deep, painful wound. Earlier tonight, he asked you what was wrong with him. You can see now that he must have been asking himself that since he was a child.

“I was always trying to make him happy and it never stuck,” he tells you. “Then I started playing hockey and… I could let out how mad I was. And people liked me for it. I finally had a place to go and – and I hate not having it anymore.”

The puzzle pieces click together. Your instincts were right when you’d assumed he was much more sensitive than he let on, hiding behind anger when all he’s ever wanted was love.

Knowing he was in a relationship where he was pressured to hide those types of things makes the pang in your heart even sharper.

“It’s temporary,” you remind him. “You’ll get back out there. But there’s so much more to you than what a good player you are.”

“You think I’m good?” he says. “You didn’t write anything in the card.”

You breathe a chuckle, gently gripping his wrist, the ink you’d etched washed away now.

“I prefer to write on you,” you tease, then gaze up at him again with sincere adoration. “I’m so sorry that happened to you. Thank you for telling me. There’s nothing wrong with you, okay?”

He stares at you in concern, as if he’s afraid you’ll take it back.

But you don’t. You just brush a kiss against his hand, squeezing his fingers with yours.

And this is so much better than the doses of temporary happiness he used to find to fill the gaps. After feeling empty for so long, this is real, complete wholeness.

════════

“Last book on the syllabus,” you say happily, already seated like usual. “We made it.”

Rafe smirks at you as he shuts the door behind him. It’s been almost a week since the night at the bar, and he’s only falling deeper for you, missing you even more when you’re not around.

“Don’t tell me you’re actually tutoring me today,” he answers.

“What’d you expect?”

He drops his backpack on his seat and stands behind you, leaning over to wrap his arms around you.

“Somethin’ more like this,” he murmurs, his lips against the side of your neck.

You smile, squeezing his forearms as you breathe in the crisp aroma of his cologne, remembering when you’d noticed how good it smelled at the first party you went to together.

“You think you can get away with this?” you say, although you feel weak all over. “Did you read the book?”

He kisses the side of your neck, sending a warm tingle through you.

“Rafe,” you sigh. “We have work to do.”

“Oh, shit,” he chuckles. “Your serious voice. I’m scared.”

“You should be,” you laugh. “How was physio?”

“Fine,” he replies, giving you one last kiss before he heads to his seat. Then, he remembers he doesn’t have to lie to you, that you’re the one person in his life that would never give him shit for telling the truth. “Brutal, actually. How are you?”

“Not ready for finals,” you reply.

“You’re already thinking about finals,” he scoffs as he unpacks his things.

“Of course I am.”

You can’t believe that the exam season is just three weeks away and that in two days, the hockey season will be finished and that before you know it, your freshman year will be over.

Rafe pulls out a paper bag from his backpack and places it in front of you, the logo stamped on it familiar.

“Did you..?” you say with a smile. He must have driven to the cafe you’d once met him at right after class, the one you said had the best treats. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Just take it,” he murmurs.

“Thank you,” you sing-song, putting the bag in your lap, sneakily opening it. “Food’s not allowed in here, but this is worth it.”

“Nobody’s going to care,” he teases. “And the door’s closed.”

“Did you miss the windows?” you reply with a laugh. You take a bite and then reach for your copy of East of Eden that you’d lent him and fan through the pages.

“There’s some beautiful prose in this one, isn’t there?” you say.

“Sure,” he says, staring at you with an enamored glint in his eyes.

“You’re just saying that,” you chuckle.

“When do I just say things?” Rafe challenges.

You shrug in agreement.

“So, the discussion question is about the changes of perspectives between both families and how it…”

You trail off as you notice a circle around a paragraph in blue pen, standing out from the yellow highlight and pencil you’d previously etched throughout the book.

“Did you mark something in my book?” you joke. “Who gave you permission?”

“Permission?” he asks amusedly. “God, why do love rules so much?”

He watches as your eyes skim over the page. He only marked one thing in the book and he’s aware of exactly what you’re reading.

You tilt your head, your smile fading, your heart weightless as you read.

A kind of light spread out from her. And everything changed color. And the world opened out. And a day was good to awaken to. And there were no limits to anything. And I was not afraid any more.

“Why did you circle this?” you ask.

“Why do you think?”

Another smile ghosts over your lips as you look down at the passage again, brows furrowing.

“What?” Rafe says, afraid you’re actually annoyed he marked your book.

“I guess I…” You clear your throat. “I used to read stuff like this and imagined someone thinking it about me, but never thought it would actually…”

You meet his eyes, your voice faded into silence as you exhale. He’s never seen you like this before. Uncertain. Afraid to speak.

You spent so long wanting to be loved just like he has, and while he spiralled into anger, you fell into insecurity, convincing yourself that someone would never care about you the way he does, questioning every sign.

Rafe sits up, reaching forward. You put the book down and take his hand. He gazes at you, feeling so damn fortunate that he walked into this room all those weeks ago, and even more fortunate that you see something in him.

He’ll have to prove to you that he sees something in you, too. He knows there’s work for him to do here. It’s work he wants to do.

“It’s true,” he says, glancing down at the book. “You changed everything for me, you know that?”

You breathe a soft, appreciative laugh, offering a small nod.

“Like your grades?” you joke.

He bites his bottom lip, smirking as he leans closer. You meet him halfway, sharing a soft, slow kiss, your eyelashes overlapping.

“Everything,” he repeats, inches away from your lips. “Thank you.”

You’re dazed, lost, and finally, a little less afraid.

════════

“Get as many as you want,” Rafe says, putting his car in park.

You stare ahead at the shop he just pulled up to, your mouth agape.

This morning, you’d asked him if he had to sit on the bench for the final game of the season this afternoon, or if he could sit in the stands with you. He’d told you he’d rather not watch it at all and that he had something else in mind, refusing to elaborate.

Your eyes travel over the sign hanging above the small bookstore, boasting its collection of old and rare books.

He pulls out his key, then chuckles when he sees that you’re frozen, staring ahead in awe.

“Really?” you say.

“No, I just wanted to show you the front of the store,” he mumbles. “Yeah, really.”

You laugh, excitedly getting out of the car. It’s a surprise, seeing just how much he likes to give you things to show he cares. He might not be great with words all the time, but his actions show you what you need to know.

Rafe follows you as you browse the shelves, picking up books, taking some with you and leaving others behind. He doesn’t understand how this could make you so happy that your smile hasn’t left your face, but he’d do it for hours for you.

He starts to take the books out of your hands, holding them for you as you search, but you don’t let him carry them for long, worried about his injury acting up.

He’s glad this is how he’s spending the afternoon. His coach and his friends on the team were cool with it when he told them he wasn’t going to attend the last game of the season.

It’s too hard to watch from the bench, wishing he could be on the other side of the glass. He’d rather be where he feels best: with you.

At one point, you’re reaching for a book on the top shelf, on the tips of your toes, and the sight warms his heart so much that he takes out his phone and snaps a photo.

“A little help?” you giggle, your voice strained. You look over your shoulder to see him smirking with his phone directed at you.

Rafe pockets his phone and steps forward to face you, his chest brushing against yours as he grips the book you’re trying to reach.

Your gazes stay locked as he hands you the book, looking down at you with a pure smile.

“Can we do this all the time?” you ask.

“You like it?” he says. “Bet there’s lots of places like this between us.”

A look of apprehension flashes across your face. You’re weeks away from the end of the school year, when you’ll both be moving back to your hometowns for the summer, three hours apart from each other.

“Do you mean it?” you ask.

You’re uncertain, needing to hear that he wants to keep this going over the summer, and after, that he’ll keep making an effort to see you.

“Three hours is nothing,” Rafe says.

You beam. You don’t need any more words, entirely comforted.

════════

“You made the right call not coming today,” Isaac says as you and Rafe enter the common room an hour later, the team dispersed across the small space. “That was embarrassing.”

“Shit,” Rafe replies, their hands clapped in greeting. “Was it that bad, man?”

“Never got my ass handed to me like that before,” Isaac says, a few of the other hockey players nodding in agreement. “Meanwhile, you’re on some cute little date.”

You share a smile. It’s clear he’s seen the photo of you that Rafe posted.

“It was cute,” you laugh. “Sorry about the loss.”

“Crappy way to end our season,” Isaac tells you. “But there’s always next year. Rafe’ll be back throwing punches.”

Rafe catches your frown.

“Thanks for the help with my essay, by the way,” Isaac tells you. “Got an A.”

“Great,” you say sweetly. “No problem.”

“You think Lyla’s coming?” Isaac asks. You nod, having texted with your best friend on your way here.

“She is,” you say.

Isaac grins when he looks up at the door. You turn to see Lyla come in. He steps away, eager to greet her.

You smile to yourself. After everything you’ve heard from Lyla, you’re pretty sure they’re only a few days away from becoming official.

“What was that look?” Rafe asks quietly.

“What?”

“When he said something about throwing punches, you looked mad.”

You adore it about him, how much he picks up on, but at the same time, it hurts to remember that the reason he knows how to do it is a result of his lonely childhood.

“I’m protective of you,” you say. “I know you’re healing well, but I don’t like the thought of you getting hurt. Is that so crazy?”

Rafe smirks, stepping forward, putting his hands on your hips, gazing at you with half-lidded eyes and a wide grin.

“What?” you whine with a soft laugh.

“It’s cute that you’re worrying about me, baby,” he answers, revelling in the feeling of touching you in public because he wants to, not because he’s supposed to be making someone jealous.

“You think I’m cute?”

His grip tightens, holding you like he always does, like you’re too good to be real, like someone might take you away.

“All the time,” Rafe murmurs, earning a gentle nudge from you. “Gonna miss you when you get too busy for me during finals.”

“You know I’m going to want to read all those books you got me, right?” you say. “I need you to keep me in line and study with me. Make sure I’m not getting distracted.”

“I thought you said I distract you.”

You chuckle, still in awe of how affectionate he is, of how much he loves to touch and kiss you whenever you’re close. He absolutely does distract you, and you love it.

“I mean, yeah, but everyone needs study breaks,” you say with a shrug. “And I don’t like it when you’re not around.”

“Yeah,” he says. “Me, neither.”

Rafe takes a second to just stare at you. It’s impossible to get enough of you. He never really looked forward to life in general, but since you made him yours, he looks forward to everything.

You press your cheek against his chest in a hug, listening to his heartbeat. And you love the feeling of knowing, with absolute certainty, that part of it beats for you.

(the end)

epilogue >

au masterlist

author’s note this was such a fun series to write!! thank you to everyone who supported the story. the epilogue is pure fluff and smut, so for the readers who don’t like spice, def skip it!! ily all!!

[fangirlfied]

It's so late at night (almost 4 a.m.) but as I was on TikTok after watching hours and hours of videos of my favorite KPOP and JPOP artists from when I was a fan of those industries, I found myself upon the Korean Hip-Hop tag, just to see what was new (nothing much for what I've seen) and suddenly I found an edit of IRON, a Korean rapper who wasn't probably the best person, but who, for what I remember, people hated on too much for stating facts on his music.

Coming from the original line-up of BTS (when they were supposed to become a Hip-Hop group in the Epik High way instead of an idol boy group like they are now), and low-class of South Korea, this man had INSANE talent as a lyricist and a rapper, I don't care how horrible you think he was, the things he proved he could do on 'Show Me The Money 3' were AMAZING!

He used to tackle poverty in South Korea, the corruption of the country's goverment and the hypocresy and easy pass idols got compared to non idol citizens, which leads me to remind everyone most rappers, as much of a baddie image they try to pull are almost all (I literally can only think of one that isn't) rich boys acting like they're from the hood when none of them know what it even feels to not have enough money to survive day by day, and IRON, or Jung Hunchul understood that, because he came from the side of the society that Bong Joon-Ho portrayed on 'Parasite' (2019).

Some of his songs, if translated say some of the most heartbreaking things I've ever read in Korean, nothing from K-POP can compare, the only things on that level of honesty, unfairness and a broken system that works for the rich, are the 90's hip-hop that 2Pac and Nas came up with along with other bunch of black kids trying to survive in a broken system, just like IRON did in his home country, South Korea.

In no way I'm defending his actions, but there are certain vile comments I've seen about him and his death just because he's not faking a perfect personality that the public might love (like most idols do, trust me, they're rich kids in a very socially unaware country. Like my guys, I've seen from cultural appropiation issues yearly to ACTUAL nazi scandals on KPOP, come on!) that at some point I had to write this down, because quite frankly, IRON deserved better, sure he did horrible things, but he wasn't evil, just like many loved rappers from the USA aren't considered evil for doing horrible things....I just wished people knew the IRON I had the chance to see:

PS: He said FACTS about BigBang's T.O.P and G-DRAGON's drug use and how they should have gone to jail if the avarage citizen had to go to jail, and I say this as a V.I.P, and as someone who has BigBang as their favs...The dude spill facts about how horrible South Korean society was and still is today.

[gremlin-girly]

Weighted Blanket

Part of the Sleepy!reader collection

Bob Reynolds x gn!reader ft. The Thunderbolts* (as a bonus)

Not beta'd. I do not give permission for my work to be reposted, copied, translated or put through an AI machine.

Tags/warnings: Fluff, cuddling, it can be platonic or romantic :)

Summary: You offer to share your blanket with Bob.

Word count: 816 words

A/N: This was a quick little drabble since one of the other fics I was meant to keep under 1k quickly became about 3. Oopsies.

Dividers by @/cafekitsune

Bob Reynolds Masterlist | Sleepy!reader Collection | Main Masterlist

You were as snug as a bug in a rug. An apt description for you being stuck under your horrendously large weighted blanket.

Most of the team were away which meant the tower was quiet and the TV in the main room was free. You'd put on an old favourite of yours and piled in snacks, not that you could reach them under the weight of the blanket, but you had at least two days of making the most of being a couch potato.

You weren't even ten minutes into your movie when your eyes started fluttering, the crushing comfort of the blanket forcing your body to remain relaxed. You're about to allow sleep to take you when you're startled by a sound behind you.

"This movie's pretty good."

You turn your head to see Bob standing near the kitchenette with an empty glass. His voice wobbles slightly, and it's clear he's upset about something. Your heart breaks. You feel a little guilty for forgetting he hadn't gone on this mission with the rest of the gang but you decide you can make it up to him.

"Wanna watch it with me?" You ask with a smile. "I've got snacks and my blanket that we can share."

Bob looks torn, eye flitting back in the direction of his room and then to you, swaying on the spot. For a moment you think he'll turn you down, however, he nods and makes his way towards the sofa.

You heave your blanket off to make space and once he's comfortably sat you drape it as gracefully as you can over him.

"Oof." Bob winces slightly as the heaviness hit him.

"Sorry." You apologise sheepishly. "Weighted blanket. I can get you another one?"

"No it's alright." Bob nods, sipping from his water and stretching his legs out onto the coffee table. "It's nice."

Twenty minutes after the addition of Bob on the couch, your eyes have closed and, unbeknownst to you, you're now bundled against him.

Bob felt a rush of happiness when your sleepy body had angled into him but he had to admit that the blanket was working it's magic on him too and fighting off sleep was becoming harder and harder.

Bob's head lolled lazily and he rested his cheek on your head. Your shampoo smelled like lavender which didn't help his sleepy state and he ran his fingers over the soft skin of your shoulder for a few minutes until his hand dropped back against the couch and he fell asleep.

Bob woke up first and felt refreshed, anxieties from the night before dwindled to manageable embers, made better by the fact that you were still curled against him (if not a little closer than last night).

When you woke up, since Bob decided he wouldn't wake you and let you sleep, you'd apologised for falling asleep so quickly the night before and hurriedly brushed away any remnants of drool from his shirt.

"I didn't last long either." Bob admits with pink cheeks. "I'd like to do it again sometime. I don't think I've ever slept so good."

"Me neither." You confess, sitting up slightly. "How's about we have a movie day? I don't have any errands to run but I can grab us breakfast and we could try to watch the movie this time?"

Bob grins at you, his heart doing backflips. "Sounds good. I'll get the coffee."

End

Bonus:

The Thunderbolts were never usually finished up missions early. Apparently, this one was the exception to the rule and when they entered to the main room and found you and Bob curled up on the giant sofa under your blanket with the TV lights flickering after a day of movies, they just about lost their minds.

"Aww," Alexei said tearfully, heart ready to burst. Yelena and Ava were busy trying to hold together fits of cuteness-aggression at the sight while Bucky and Walker sighed with attempted nonchalance.

Yelena silently crept over to take a space beside Bob, shushing Walker when he asked what she was doing. Ava went next, teleporting onto your side.

Then men left all shared a look. Alexei beamed as he dashed beside Yelena, picking up an extra blanket and almost tripping over the coffee table, and Bucky with a sigh (and a slight smile) joined the end, leaving Walker space to join Ava on the other side of the couch.

You stirred first, blinking up and seeing Ava's face next to yours.

"You're back?"

"We all are." John's voice echoes behind her and you crane your neck to the other side of the couch where Yelena, Alexei and Bucky's faces come into view all smiling. You try not to snort and wake Bob as you lean back into him.

"Sleepy heads." Yelena sighs happily, picking up the TV remote and flicking through the movie selection. "Now, what movie to watch..."

A/N: I missed the first round of avengers tower fics... I'm not missing these.

Taglist - add yourself here

@looking1016 @jeremyrennermakesmesmile @almostglitterybear @blackhawkfanatic @peaches1958

[jungkoode]

死 KKANGPAE | #17 死

† bedroom confessions †

“His real name is the most dangerous thing he’s ever given you.”

next | index

⚔ chapter details ⚔

word count: 7.5k

rating: explicit (18+)

content: first time in jeon’s bedroom, real name revelation, sexual tension finally exploding, dirty talk that’ll make you blush, spanking kink discovery, emotional walls starting to crack, post-sex vulnerability, and lines being crossed that can never be uncrossed.

Kiki Nation’s discussion thread for this chapter.

☠ author's note ☠

Y’ALL I’M DECEASED. Just casually writing 7.5k of filth like it’s nothing. Who even am I at this point? My laptop is judging me, my FBI agent is traumatized, and I haven’t made eye contact with my roommate in three days.

So… that happened. Jungkook finally shared his real name AND his bed, and honestly? The power that man holds when he’s being all dominant and teasing is absolutely CRIMINAL. I had to take several water breaks while writing this chapter because WHEW. Is it hot in here or is it just me? (¬‿¬)

The fact that Jungkook’s idea of aftercare is literally “wanna stay connected all night?” has me HOLLERING. Sir, that is NOT how this works—but also it’s so perfectly HIM. Our emotionally stunted sniper boy doesn’t know how to process feelings unless they’re shooting through a rifle scope.

And Y/N with the attitude even DURING sex? A queen behavior. Standing ovation for not becoming a complete puddle the second he touched her (though let’s be real, it was close).

Let’s also talk about how they can’t stop BANTERING even post-orgasm. These two idiots calling it “charity work” when they’re both equally obsessed with each other? THE DELUSION. I love them so much it physically hurts my face.

I know I promised slow burn but uh… Listen. LISTEN. It’s an EMOTIONALLLL slow burn. The fuck buddies tag is there for a reason. Sometimes characters just take over and you have to let them bang it out, you know? It’s for their mental health or whatever.

Don’t get too comfortable though! We all know what happens in this universe when people get too happy… the universe (aka me, their cruel god) decides to throw a wrench in everything. ⌒(o＾▽＾o)ノ

Next chapter will give us a little morning-after situation and maybe even some actual plot development if I can stop writing smut for five seconds!

Love ya, trauma vultures! Keep those comments coming, they fuel my sleep-deprived writing sessions!

xoxo 💋

P.S. Also, for the hate comment I deleted 5 seconds after it was posted (you tried though)… here's an even longer author's note, since yk, like you said, nobody reads them… More for me to yap without consequences, I guess.

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You're in Jeon's room. 

Jeon's fucking room. 

When he'd texted you to come to the shooting range earlier, you'd figured it was just another one of his typical late-night training sessions. 

But now? Now you're here, on his bed , with him standing over you like he’s already decided you’re his next target.

Like you’re already dead and just haven’t figured it out yet.

Okay, maybe a tiny part of you had hoped for this. (Shut up , horny brain.)

But you'd only agreed to be fuck buddies like, what, some hours ago?

And here you are already, sprawled across his sheets, heart hammering against your ribs like it's trying to escape.

Talk about moving fast.

Except it isn't simple. Not when you're already spread out across his bed like you fucking live here. Not when your heart's kicking like a scared rabbit in your chest.

Your fingers curl into his sheets on reflex. Satin. Dark. Smells like pine and something sharper—pine. Him. God, that should not do things to you but it does.

You fight the dumb grin twitching at the corner of your mouth.

Because here's the thing.

He's just as gone for it.

Jeon's staring down at you like he hasn't eaten in days. Dark eyes locked on you like you're dinner and dessert and every guilty pleasure combined. There's no hesitation. No second-guessing. No going slow. Just that razor-focused, dangerous glint he always gets before pulling the trigger on a mark.

And Jesus Christ, you're the mark.

Your breath catches.

That stormy energy of his? It's fucking alive. Wrapping around you. Crawling over your skin. You feel it. You taste it. Static in the air—sharp, biting, almost buzzing in your goddamn teeth.

His fingers graze your thigh and oh. 

That's nice. Really nice. 

But before you can really enjoy it, he pulls his hand away. Plants it on the mattress by your head, making the bed creak under his weight.

You snap your head up in disbelief. "Seriously?"

Your voice cracks. Great. Love that for you.

But then his other hand comes up—slides along your jaw like he owns you. Fingers rough. Callused. Deadly. And all you can do is stare like a fucking idiot as his thumb presses against your bottom lip. Tugging. Testing.

You go pliant before you even process it. Lips parting on instinct.

His mouth opens just a little—like he's picturing it. Like he wants to taste you. Swallow you whole.

And goddamn it, you want that too.

So bad it hurts.

Is he imagining what it'd be like to kiss you? 'Cause you sure as hell are.

"You sure you can handle the kind of tension relief I'm talking about?" he asks, voice low and gravelly. 

You almost laugh. As if you haven't been thinking about this exact scenario for weeks. 

"Guess you'll have to show me so I can decide, huh?"

That does it. 

He moves. Fast.

You barely register it before he's already there—mouth crashing into yours like he's starving. Teeth. Tongue. Fucking warzone.

There's no slow build-up. No teasing. Just pure, raw take.

Your breath punches out of you as you grab for him. Instinct. Desperation. Your fingers slip into his hair—damp, messy, soft as hell. You tug. Hard.

He groans into your mouth. Loud. Deep. Way too fucking hot. It rips down your spine like lightning.

You bite his lip just to feel him suck in air through his teeth. God, that sound—that sound—shoots straight to your core. Your legs twitch under him, thighs pressing together, trying to ease the ache.

It doesn't work. Makes it worse.

Jeon doesn't let you off easy either. He dives back in. Deeper this time. Tongue claiming, swallowing every shaky breath you give him like he owns them now.

His body shifts—presses down harder—pinning you to the mattress without saying a single word. Your back arches up like a fucking reflex. Can't help it.

And then, just as fast, he pulls back.

Forehead against yours. Breath ragged. Lips slick and swollen.

His chest rises and falls like he just ran a mile.

You're no better. Gasping. Throat dry. Pulse wrecked.

"We doing this?" he asks. 

Not really a question. He knows. You both know. Still—he waits.

And maybe it's stupid how much that makes your throat go tight.

You nod, still trying to catch your breath. "Yes."

One word. That's all it takes for Jeon's eyes to darken further.

His mouth finds yours again, but only for a moment. Then he's moving—trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses along your jaw, down to your neck. When his teeth graze below your ear, a small gasp leaves your throat.

Fuck.

The sound does something to him. You can tell by the way his fingers dig into your hip, how his breath comes out just a bit harsher against your skin.

His other hand slides down your stomach, fingers spread wide like he's trying to touch as much of you as possible. The shirt bunches up with the movement. 

More skin exposed to the cool air of his room. More of you for him to explore.

You can barely breathe right. Every inhale is shallow, desperate. A whine builds in your throat, needy and embarrassing, but you're too far gone to care. You want more. More of his hands on you, more of his mouth, more of the way he's practically caging you in with his body.

He makes this sound—low and satisfied, almost like a growl—that has heat pooling between your legs.

"Jeon," you breathe out. 

He pulls back just enough to look at you. His eyes are dark, pupils blown wide. 

"Jungkook," he corrects, voice rough with want. "My real name is Jungkook. Say it like that again."

Your breath catches. Using real names in Kkangpae isn't something you take lightly. It's intimate. Personal. A sign of trust that goes beyond the physical.

"Jungkook," you say again, louder this time. Testing how it feels on your tongue. 

The way his eyes darken tells you everything you need to know about how it sounds to him.

He growls—actually growls, okay paw patrol?—at that, like your voice saying his name is doing things to him. Like he can't get enough of it.

God. The way he's looking at you right now.

"Turn over for me," he murmurs like a command, but there's something patient in his voice. "I need to see that ass."

Your whole body feels like jelly as you move. The mattress dips beneath you, and fuck—you realize how exposed you are right now, laid out for him like this. How vulnerable. 

How wanted.

"Ass up, sunshine," he says, voice raspy.

You push yourself up on your elbows, lifting your hips. The position makes you feel s̶l̶u̶t̶t̶y̶ bold, but it also feels slightly intoxicating, being on display like this, knowing exactly what it's doing to him.

The sharp intake of his breath is worth it.

His hands hover over you for a moment—those same hands that can take a life from a mile away with a sniper rifle now ghosting across your skin. The anticipation has your stomach in knots, has you fighting the urge to push back against him.

When he finally touches you, it's almost reverent. Like he's mapping out territory he plans to claim.

"Fuck," he breathes out; and the way he says it—like a prayer, like worship—makes your face burn. "You have no idea what your ass does to me."

His fingers dig into the flesh of your ass, kneading with the kind of expertise that makes you wonder h̶o̶w̶ ̶m̶a̶n̶y̶ ̶t̶i̶m̶e̶s̶ if he's thought about this before. 

You have to press your face into the pillow to muffle the sounds trying to escape your throat. 

Because if you start, you're not sure you'll be able to stop.

He takes his time, methodical in a way that's driving you insane. His thumbs spread you open, then let you fall back together. His hands work their way, massaging and squeezing. The heat under your skin builds until you feel like you might combust. Like you might actually catch fire right here in his bed.

"Such a perfect ass," he groans, and then—oh—his lips are pressing against one cheek, then the other. Soft kisses that feel somehow filthier than anything else he's done. "Fucking beautiful."

The praise hits different when it's coming from him. When it's Jungkook—cold, distant, perfectionist Jungkook—telling you how perfect you are.

When he pulls back, the loss of contact hits different. Like someone just yanked a warm blanket off you.

"I want to try something," he says, and okay, when his voice sounds like that you'd say yes to almost anything he'd say. 

"Yeah?" Your voice is breathy, but at this point you're too curious (too turned on) to give a single fuck.

His hand traces up your spine, gentle in a way that doesn't match how intensely he's staring at you. The contrast makes your skin prickle with goosebumps.

"I want to spank that gorgeous ass of yours." 

It comes out like a confession, like he's been thinking about this for a while. There's a question mark hanging at the end of it though, waiting for your permission.

Oh.

Something hot and electric zips through you at the suggestion. Your brain staggers for a second, but your body's already made up its mind. You're nodding before you can even process what this means.

"Let's do it," you say, maybe too eagerly, but the thought of his hand coming down on your ass has lit something up inside you that you didn't even know was there.

"Remember our safe word?"

Even in the middle of this is, he's making sure you're both on the same page.

"Black tape," you confirm immediately. 

Having that word there, knowing you can use it anytime—it's like a safety net. Makes everything else feel okay.

"Good."

He positions himself behind you again, and the anticipation is k̶i̶l̶l̶i̶n̶g̶ driving you crazy. His hand hovers over your skin, making you feel every inch of exposed flesh. 

Then, the first spank lands.

It's almost gentle—like he's testing the waters, seeing how you'll react.

The sound it makes in the quiet room has your face burning.

Sharp. Clean. Loud. 

Your skin blooms with heat where his palm connected, and fuck—it's not exactly painful, but it sends this electric feeling through your whole body that has you gasping. The sting melts into something warmer, spreading under your skin until you feel like you're floating.

Your face burns. 

And... It's not from pain.

Obviously, he's watching you like a hawk, trying to read your reaction. You can feel his eyes on you, heavy and intense.

"How was that?" His voice comes out rough, like he's the one who just got spanked.

You have to take a second to remember how words work.

"Good," you manage to get out, barely above a whisper. "Really good."

He gives you time to process, to just feel it. Then his palm is back on your ass, but this time he's not spanking. He's just... touching. Soothing the heated skin with gentle strokes that somehow feel more intimate than the spank itself.

It's messing with your head—how he can switch from rough to gentle so fast. One second he's spanking you, the next he's treating you like you're made of glass.

The air feels exactly like right before a storm hits. 

Jungkook's presence behind you is overwhelming in the best way, and when his hand moves away, you actually have to bite back a whine.

Every second he makes you wait feels like torture. You arch your back a little, trying to be s̶l̶u̶t̶t̶y̶ subtle about asking for more. You can't see his face, but you know he's smirking. 

You've seen that look enough times to picture it perfectly—that cocky little quirk of his lips, the way his eyes get all dark and intense.

"Ready for another?" he asks, voice gone all gravelly; and it shouldn't be hot, but it is.

Your heart's going crazy in your chest when you nod. "Yes."

Waiting has has your skin tingling, has you holding your breath without even meaning to.

You can feel him shifting behind you, the mattress dipping as he draws his arm back. 

When his palm connects this time, it's not a question—it's a statement. 

The smack echoes off the walls, louder than before, and holy shit.

"Fuck," you gasp out. 

It stings more this time, sharp and intense, but in a way that makes everything feel unfairly good.

"How does that feel?" His words drip with arousal, but there's still that undercurrent of concern. 

Always checking, always making sure.

"Nice," you hear yourself say, and you're surprised by how eager you sound. Like you can't get enough. "Keep going."

There's a pause, and you can practically hear the gears turning in his head.

"As you wish," he finally says, and you don't need to see his face to know he's smirking.

He pulls back again, and like the asshole he is, he makes you wait a little bit.

Not for long though, because clearly, the fucker is enjoying this too.

When the third spank lands, it's like a lightning bolt straight to your core. It's stronger, more controlled, and the pleasure that rips through you is so intense it steals your breath. 

You cry out—not from pain, but from how good it feels. 

How it makes your whole body sing.

This time, his hand stays put. You can feel the heat of his palm against your stinging skin, and it's grounding in a way you didn't know you needed.

"Beautiful," he breathes out, like you're some kind of work of art.

You hadn't pegged Jungkook as the type to be into this kind of thing. But the way his breath catches, the slight tremor in his hand as it rests on your ass—it's like he's discovering something about himself right along with you.

Maybe it's a spanking thing. Or maybe it's just a you thing.

Or your ass thing. 

Either way, the realization that you're affecting him this much? 

Heady. Bargaining material. 

His fingers start tracing patterns on your heated skin, soothing the sting. Again with the contrast, from the spanking to this. Like he's not quite sure himself where he stands.

"You okay?"

You nod into the pillow, not trusting your voice right now. 

Because how do you tell someone that you're more than okay? That you're floating on some kind of pleasure high you didn't even know existed?

And honestly, this whole situation is simply making it hard to think straight. 

But then, Jungkook moves, slowly, creates some distance and—oh? 

A soft thud. His towel hitting the floor. 

He steps closer once more, bare skin against yours, and it's hot. He's hot. His skin is hot.

His body is all hard lines pressed up against your softer curves, and when his cock presses against your panties, you actually have to bite your lip to keep quiet.

You push back against him without thinking. 

S̶l̶u̶t̶t̶y̶ Needy.

"You're driving me fucking crazy," he makes this sound you can't quite classify.

The raw want in his voice does things to you. But before you can even think of responding, his hand comes down on your ass again. 

Hard.

The sound echoes through his room, and you can't help the moan that slips out.

(Anyone walking past his door would definitely hear that one.)

"Tell me you felt that," he demands.

"I felt it," you manage to get out between breaths. "I felt all of it."

Then his free hand wraps around your waist, fingers spreading wide like he's trying to conquer as much of your body as possible. He pulls you closer, and god—you can feel every inch of his cock pressed against you through the thin fabric of your panties. 

The contrast between his rough skin and the smooth material is driving you insane.

"You want more?" 

He's trying to sound teasing, but you can hear how affected he is. His voice is multiple octaves deeper than his usual 'whatever' tone.

"Yeah." Your voice comes out wrecked. "Don't stop."

He laughs—this low, dangerous sound that makes your toes curl. "God, I love how eager you are."

His hand comes down hard—harder than before—and the sound echoes through his room like a gunshot. You can't help the groan that rips from your throat. It's embarrassingly loud, but who cares at this point?

The sting burns hot across your skin, sharp and biting, sinking deeper until it melts into that aching pulse you can’t get enough of. You can feel exactly where his palm landed, the heat of it sinking deep into your flesh.

"Christ, you take it so well," he says, and his fingers dig into the spot he just spanked, pressure making you bite your lip. "I can see the shape of my hand on your ass, turning red. It's fucking sexy."

You're breathing like you just ran a marathon, each exhale coming out kind of whiny and desperate. Your brain’s mush. All you can register is his hands and the heat of him grinding against you.

"Jungkook, please." The way you say his name is straight-up pathetic, way too needy. 

You push back against him, wanting to feel him without these stupid panties in the way.

His fingers trail down your spine, so slow it’s infuriating. They dance over the curve of your ass before playing with the edge of your underwear. When his fingers finally hook into the fabric, you freeze, chest tightening as he pulls the fabric aside.

Your face is pressed into his mattress, ass up in the air like some kind of offering. You should feel exposed, but something about it just feels right.

"You're already so wet for me..." You can hear the smirk in his voice. What an asshole. "How can I resist?"

But he does resist, the bastard.

His touch goes all gentle, fingers just barely exploring your folds like he's got all the time in the world. Like he's trying to memorize every little detail—how wet you are, how warm, the way you can't help but tremble. 

He then makes this approving sound deep in his throat and you've had enough.

"Jungkook," you whine, dragging out his name like some kind of desperate prayer. "Stop teasing."

"But I want to watch you squirm," he says, and fuck—you can tell he means it. 

He wants to see you fall apart, wants to watch you beg.

What a bitch. 

His sadistic little game only gets worse when you complain. You can feel his finger right there, barely touching where you need him most, just collecting evidence of how embarrassingly wet you are. The anticipation is k̶i̶l̶l̶i̶n̶g̶ driving you insane as he slides that finger up and down, parting you without actually giving you what you want. Using your own arousal to make the glide easier.

You try to push back against him, to get his finger inside you—anything. But his other hand is pressed firm against your lower back, keeping you exactly where he wants you.

"Jesus Christ, just fuck me already," you can't help but groan, frustrated. 

But Jungkook—because he's a bastard—just keeps playing his little game.

"I'll fuck you when you're ready to break from wanting it so bad," he says, and you can hear the smile in his voice. 

He loves it. 

His finger circles your entrance, the touch so light it's actually torture. Every time he passes over that spot, you clench around nothing, desperate to feel him inside you.

When he finally pushes just the tip of his finger in, you actually sigh out loud—half relief, half frustration. Your whole body's shaking with how bad you need more, but he keeps holding back. Adding pressure so slowly it should be illegal, pushing in just to pull back out again.

He's drawing this out just because he can, the power-tripping dickhead.

The pressure builds just a tiny bit as he shows you the smallest amount of mercy, sliding that one finger in entirely so slow you think you might actually lose your mind. 

It's not enough—nowhere near enough—and he knows it. 

You want him to stop being so careful, to just take what you're offering.

Despite how frustrated you are (or maybe because of it), you can't help but smirk. 

"What, you got no condoms this time either?"

The words come out all breathy between your gritted teeth—and honestly? Not your brightest idea, bringing up that particular memory from the tent.

The response is immediate—his hand comes down hard on your ass, sting spreading across your skin like wildfire.

"Aw, what the fuck—?" 

You yelp, caught between the sharp pain and how embarrassingly turned on it makes you feel—like your body can't decide if it wants to flinch away or push back for more.

"You should know better than to sass me right now."

Then his hand is smoothing over the spot he just spanked, gentle in a way that feels almost worse than the hit itself.

"You're such an asshole," you tell him, but there's no real bite to it. 

You both know you don't mean it, not when you're bent over his bed with his finger inside you.

"Mhm, but you fucking love it, don't you?" 

He says it like it's just a fact. Like the sky is blue, water is wet, and you get off on him being a dick.

(The worst part is he's not wrong.)

You can't help but grown more impatient when you feel his ring finger press up against your entrance, right next to where his middle finger is already buried inside you. He pauses there, just letting you feel the pressure.

"For fuck's sake, just do it." Your voice cracks embarrassingly, giving away just how bad you want it.

He laughs, low and rough. "Patience, I want you to feel every single inch."

Can he die? Genuinely. 

Then the pressure builds as he starts working his ring finger in alongside the other one. He's being so fucking methodical about it, pushing deeper into you at a pace that's making you lose your mind. 

Every inch feels like it takes forever.

"You feel so fucking tight, you sure you can handle both?"

The teasing note in his voice makes you want to bite him. He already knows the answer, the smug bastard.

"I can take more than you can give," you get out between breaths, because fuck him.

And it's meant to be cocky, but it comes out sounding more desperate than anything.

"We'll see about that."

His fingers stop moving for a second—just long enough to make you whine—before he starts pushing in even slower. Like he's trying to make you feel every single movement, every stretch, every slide.

And at this point your body's on fucking fire. But can you be to blame, when he's been nothing but an infuriating tease?

Little pleading sounds keep escaping your throat without permission. You're practically chanting 'please's as you try to push back against his hand. But he's got you pinned, keeping that torturously slow pace.

"Fucking... jerk," you mutter—because he absolutely is. 

"Yeah," he agrees. "I am."

When both his fingers finally—finally—bottom out inside you, you actually gasp. Your body clenches around them greedily, trying to get any kind of movement, and the grunt he lets out sounds s̶e̶x̶y̶ pleased.

"Tell me how much you want it."

It's not a request. His voice has that edge to it that makes it very clear.

"I want it more than my next breath." The words tumble out raw and honest.

"Good girl," he says, and even though it's rough around the edges, the praise makes you stutter.

His fingers curl inside you, making you moan embarrassingly loud. Then the bastard just... stops. Stays completely still, letting you feel exactly how deep his fingers are, how they're stretching you open.

You're actually going to lose your mind if he doesn't start moving soon. But you refuse to beg—you won't give him the satisfaction.

"I think listening to you beg is my new favorite sound," he says, like he can read your thoughts.

"Fuck off—" The words die in your throat when his fingers pull back just a tiny bit before pushing deep again, and yup, the sound that comes out of your mouth is straight-up pathetic.

"You're driving me insane," you tell him, trying to sound angry.

"That's the idea." He says, but it's all dark and pleased. "I want you out of your mind with need, so when I finally give you what you're begging for, you'll remember who put you there."

Fuck.

His fingers are still buried deep inside you, not moving, and you can feel every single knuckle. It's like a preview of what's coming later—a promise that this is just the start, and he's planning to take his sweet time getting there.

The seconds drag by like hours. You're stuck in this weird space between pleasure and frustration, where his fingers feel so good but it's n̶o̶w̶h̶e̶r̶e̶ not nearly enough. The heat of his body against yours isn't helping either. Having him this close but not getting what you want is actually torture.

"Are you planning on moving anytime this century?"

And yeah. It sounds bitchy. 

Exactly how you want it.

"In due time."

You can barely breathe right, desperation clawing at your throat. Then—oh—his finger brushes against your clit, so light you almost think you imagined it. Your hips jerk without permission, chasing that barely-there touch.

"Jungkook," you warn, half-growl, half-whine.

He chuckles. "No patience at all, huh?"

"Just fucking touch me already." The snark in your voice is falling apart, giving way to pure need.

"Ahh, I love it when you get all feisty."

You open your mouth to tell him exactly where he can shove that smugness, but then his finger is back on your clit. 

Just ghosting over it, barely any pressure at all. 

But your whole body lights up anyway, every nerve ending suddenly wide awake.

"This is torture," you accuse, though the breathiness in your voice kind of ruins the effect.

"Not torture. Appreciation." He hums. "I'm just enjoying all those pretty sounds you make. The way you shake. How desperate you get."

Bastard.

His finger starts moving in slow circles around your clit, adding just a tiny bit more pressure. It's enough to make your back arch, trying to get more friction, but it's n̶o̶w̶h̶e̶r̶e̶ not nearly enough.

"Please," you whine, past caring how needy you sound. "Just—a little harder, please, Jungkook."

He gives you what you asked for—barely. 

Just a fraction more pressure, but combined with his fingers still buried inside you, it's enough to make your body clench around him. 

He's got you trapped between pleasure and frustration, keeping you right on that edge.

"This what you want?" he asks, mocking. "This pace good for you, hmm?"

You know exactly what he's doing—getting off on your impatience, on how desperate he can make you with just his fingers and that stubborn w̶i̶l̶l̶p̶o̶w̶e̶r̶ control of his. 

The pressure on your clit keeps changing, going from barely-there touches that make you want to scream to just enough to have you chasing more.

"Jungkook, I fucking swear—" 

The words die in your throat when his finger suddenly presses harder.

"What?" His voice drops even lower, hitting that dangerous note that usually means he's about to stop playing nice. "What exactly are you swearing?"

"That I'll rip your fucking hair out if you don't stop messing around." You have to grit your teeth to get the words out, trying to sound threatening even though you're literally shaking with need.

He laughs—this deep, dark sound that vibrates through you—and rewards your threat with a firm stroke that has heat coiling in your stomach.

"That's not very nice," he says, but he sounds more amused than anything. Like your empty threats are entertaining him.

His finger goes back to those slow, torturous circles around your clit. Each pass builds the pressure a little more, but it's never quite enough to get you there.

The most f̶u̶c̶k̶e̶d̶ messed up part? You're kind of into it. 

This whole power play thing you've got going—how you push and he pulls, how you threaten and he teases. 

It's addictive. 

Because in truth, there is something powerful about knowing you can make Jeon Jungkook, Kkangpae's perfect soldier, want to hear you say his name.

Suddenly his whole rhythm changes. 

No more of that torturously slow pace—his fingers start moving with actual purpose, curling inside you in a way that has your toes curling. Like he's finally done playing around and just wants to make you genuinely cum.

Hallelujah.

The sound that comes out of your mouth is straight-up filthy. You have to press your face into the mattress to muffle it, which only makes you more aware of how heavily you're breathing, each gasp basically fucking advertising how good his fingers feel.

"Come on, sunshine," he teases. "You don't have to be quiet. These walls are soundproof."

But you just press your face harder into the mattress. 

It's become a matter of pride now—you refuse to give him the satisfaction of hearing exactly what he's doing to you. 

You're right there, so close you can taste it—

And then the fucker stops.

A pathetic whimper leaves your throat as you squirm beneath him, feeling weirdly empty. The loss of sensation has you actually wanting to cry.

When you turn your head to glare at him, he's got this insufferably satisfied look on his face. 

He reaches over to the nightstand, pulling open the drawer like he's got all the time in the world. The foil packet he holds up catches the light, and the victorious look he gives you makes you want to bite him.

"See, I do have condoms this time, you smart mouth." The smirk on his face should be illegal.

"Oh wow, look who's being a semi-functional adult for once." You narrow your eyes at him."Want a fucking gold star or something?"

He laughs whilst tearing the foil packet and for some reason, it is weirdly hot—how focused he looks while rolling the condom on.

"Maybe after this you'll want to give me one," he says, still sounding way too amused.

He settles back on his knees, raising an eyebrow at you like he's waiting for something. You huff, pretending to be all put out even though you're literally dying from how bad you want him. When you press your cheek against his cool sheets again, you make sure to arch your back just right.

You know exactly what that view does to him.

Feeling extra b̶r̶a̶t̶t̶y̶ bold, you wiggle your hips a little. Just a tiny movement, but it's basically saying 'come and get it' without words.

And bingo. 

His hand comes down on your ass hard—but despite that, you feel weirdly victorious. 

Then he's right there, lining himself up. 

His tip brushes against your entrance, teasing to the point of madness, because at this point you just want him inside already.

You bite down on the sheets, refusing to give him the satisfaction of hearing you beg again. But your body's giving you away anyway—the way you're trembling, how desperately you're trying to push back against him.

He takes his sweet time, just watching you. His eyes trail down your spine to where his handprints are probably turning your ass red. 

After what feels like forever, he finally pushes in, one smooth stroke that rips the air from your lungs.

And it's impossible to muffle yourself; even with your face squashed against the mattress, when he bottoms out completely. 

You feel every single inch of him, filling you up so completely it's genuinely insane. And he just stays there, buried deep inside you. 

"So fucking tight," he growls, sound vibrating through you, making your toes curl.

Your body moves on its own, pushing back against him, desperate for more. You need him to move, need that relentless pace you know he can give you. But the bastard just holds you there, completely still, making you feel every single detail of how he's splitting you open.

His fingers dig into your hips—not hard enough to leave marks (yet), but firm enough to keep you exactly where he wants you. And the slight bite of pain just adds to the pleasure, kind of welcome honestly. 

When he finally pulls back, you almost whine at the loss—but then he slams back in, hard and deep, and your brain melts. Everything gets kind of blurry after that.

Your skin feels like it's on fire everywhere he touches. The sound of skin hitting skin echoes through his room (thank god these walls are actually soundproof), getting louder with each thrust. His pace is brutal, punishing, but it's exactly what you've been dying for.

"That's it, take all of it."

And there's just this thing in how he says it—that has you pushing back against him like you're desperate for it. 

(Maybe you are.)

Every thrust feels like getting hit by a natural disaster; like a fucking hurricane. It's hard to breathe, hard to think about anything except how he's driving you into the mattress.

He's fucking you like he's got something to prove, hips snapping forward so hard it's just obscene, has you clutching at his sheets like they're the only thing keeping you grounded.

Then his hand slides underneath you, looking for your clit. Like he knows exactly what you need without you voicing it out. 

The second he finds it and starts rubbing circles against it, electricity zips through your whole body. It's almost too much, the dual sensation of his cock stretching you open and his fingers working your clit.

"Fuck, Jungkook," you moan, and you barely recognize your own voice. "Don't stop."

He lets out this grunt that gets lost in the sound of him pounding into you. 

But he listens, thank god, keeping up that relentless pace with both his cock and his fingers.

It's not gentle. He's fucking you like he wants to break you, like he wants to hear every embarrassing sound he can wring out of your throat.

"Just like that, sunshine," he pants. "Fucking take it."

Each thrust builds something wild inside you, like being caught in the eye of a hurricane. The pressure coils tighter and tighter until you think you might actually lose your mind. Everything feels too much and not enough all at once.

Your senses go into overdrive—the obscene sound of skin hitting skin, the heavy scent of sex filling his room, the salt of sweat on your tongue. You're drowning in pleasure, and Jungkook's the one holding you under with his relentless pace.

Then it hits.

The orgasm crashes through you in waves, drawing these embarrassingly loud sounds from your throat—whimpers, growls, straight-up begging. Your body clamps down around his cock like it's trying to keep him there forever, fingers still working your clit through it all. Pleasure zips through every nerve ending until you can barely breathe.

"Jungkook—" His name rips from your throat when you come, sounding absolutely wrecked. 

The pleasure is so intense it almost hurts.

He falters for just a second before picking the pace back up, fucking you through your orgasm until you're seeing stars. Each stroke sets off these little aftershocks that have you questioning your sanity. His groans get louder, deeper, mixing with the sounds you can't help but make.

Every thrust hits exactly where you need it, precise and commanding in that way only he can manage.

You can feel how tense he is, how close he is to losing it.

His breathing comes out all rough and uneven, matching the brutal pace of his thrusts. His fingers dig into your hips hard enough to leave marks, using the grip to pull you back onto his cock like he can't get deep enough. 

It's feral, is what it is— how he's moving now—like he's completely lost in it, chasing his own pleasure.

"Shit, I'm close," he groans against your neck, chest pressed tight against your back, skin burning everywhere you touch.

Then he goes rigid as it hits him. 

You can feel every twitch of his cock, every pulse as he fills the condom.

He makes this plethora of sounds—deep, rough groans combined with some high pitched ones; all stripped away until he's just raw need and pleasure.

"Ah— fuck—"

Every curse that falls from his lips sounds snatched from him, desperate.

His hips stutter against yours, losing his rhythm as he rides it all out. His grip on your hips is tight enough to bruise, holding you still while he falls apart. Each thrust gets slower, like he's trying to make it last.

When he starts coming down from it, his hands go gentle where they were rough before. 

He's still panting hard against your neck, little aftershocks making his cock twitch inside you. His heart's hammering so hard you can feel it against your back.

Jungkook collapses against your back, his legs apparently giving out after how hard he just came. His chest is slick with sweat where it presses against you, and his breath fans hot across your neck. He's still buried inside you, cock softening but still making you feel so full. 

The sound he makes—this low, satisfied groan—is almost cute. Like a big cat after a good meal.

The afterglow starts to settle, leaving this heavy kind of quiet between you. Your breathing starts evening out, going from desperate gasping to something more normal. 

You both just... stay there for a minute, too worn out to move.

Then he just... drops his full weight on you. Like his arms finally give out or something.

The heat of his body wraps around you completely, and maybe it'd be nice if he wasn't crushing your lungs. 

His whole body is radiating exhaustion, and yeah—you get it. That was intense. 

"Jeon, move... you're heavy," you grunt into his pillow. 

Your voice comes out all rough from how loud you were being earlier.

"Give me a second," he mumbles against your skin, sounding just as wrecked as you feel. "You can't expect me to move after fucking you like that." 

He sounds half-joking, half-serious, nuzzling into your neck like he's planning to just stay there forever.

You can't help but laugh at that. Something about seeing Kkangpae's perfect soldier brought down by an orgasm is kind of hilarious. 

You shove at his side, trying to get him to budge.

He doesn't move an inch, the bastard. 

Instead, he has the audacity to suggest something so wild it's weirdly very him.

"How 'bout we fall asleep just like this, me still inside you?" His voice comes out all lazy and satisfied. 

You can tell he's half-joking, but there's this note in his voice that says he's actually considering it.

You reach back to smack him, caught between being annoyed and kind of endeared by how shameless he is. 

"Fat chance, thundercloud," you tell him, but there's no real bite to it. 

He laughs—this deep, warm sound that tells you he's smiling even though you can't see his face.

But you really can't breathe with him crushing you, so you push at him again, harder this time. "Seriously, off. You're heavy as fuck."

He makes this exaggerated groan like you're asking him to run a marathon or something, but finally rolls off you and onto his side. 

His cock slips out (and fuck, that's a weird feeling), and then he sprawls out next to you, throwing one arm over his face as he catches his breath. 

The sight of him like this—all tatted up and muscled, skin still kind of shiny with sweat—is doing things to your brain that you really don't want to examine too closely.

After a few more deep breaths, he sits up with this little sigh like moving is the worst thing ever. You watch him from the corner of your eye as he deals with the condom. 

There's something almost gentle about how he handles it, which is kind of funny considering how rough he w being just a minute ago. He ties it off and tosses it in the trash with this practiced little flick that says he's definitely done this before.

"So, you wanna cuddle?" The teasing in his voice is obvious. 

It's a callback to your conversation earlier, when you were both pretending this was just going to be sleeping.

"Seems like I'm not the one wanting to cuddle after all," you shoot back, matching his tone.

Jungkook gives you that smug little grin.

"Just doing some charity work," he says, voice all teasing and challenging, daring you to argue.

You can't help but scoff. The audacity of this man.

"Charity work? Please. If anyone's being charitable here, it's me."

He laughs—this deep, satisfied sound that fills his room. "Ha. Don't act like you didn't enjoy that just as much as I did."

Well. He's got you there, but you're not about to admit it out loud. Not when he's being this smug about it.

You tilt your head, feeling a crooked smile tug at your lips. "Maybe I did, maybe I didn't. Guess we'll never know."

He shifts closer to you, and fuck—even after everything you just did, your body still reacts to his proximity.

"Maybe I need to fuck you again to find out," he says, voice dropping low enough to make heat pool in your stomach.

"Oh? You sure you can handle another round, tough guy?"

The smirk he gives you is absolutely criminal.

"Sunshine, I've got stamina for days." He says it like he's joking, but something tells you he's not exaggerating.

"For days, huh?" You raise an eyebrow. "Someone's confident."

"Because I know you," he says softly, words ghosting across your skin.

That makes you pause.

Know you? 

He doesn't know you any more than you know him. 

Sure, your bodies seem to speak the same language—the way you fit together, how you respond to each other's touch. 

But that's all this is. 

All it can be. 

Nothing more complicated than pure physical attraction.

But you don't feel like getting into that right now. Not when you're both still riding the high of what just happened.

"Tempting," you say instead, drawing the word out. "But we've got a long night ahead, and I'd rather spend it actually sleeping."

He narrows his eyes at you, looking way too pleased with himself. 

"My bed seems to be the only place you're actually honest," he says, and how does he always have a comeback ready?

You raise an eyebrow at him. "Was that supposed to be a compliment, Jeon? Getting soft on me already?"

"Wouldn't dream of it," he says, putting on this fake serious face. "Can't have you thinking I actually enjoy your company or something."

"Oh, please. Soft is literally the last word I'd use to describe you." You can't help but smirk at the double meaning.

A yawn catches you off guard—not because you're tired (okay, maybe a little), but because you're actually kind of... comfortable?

Weird. 

"Anyway, time for sleep. That's what we said we'd do, remember?

He literally snorts. "Sleep? After what we just did? You're fucking with me."

"Not anymore, I'm not," you shoot back, and the look on his face is actually priceless.

"Come on," he tries again. "Round two? I promise it'll be worth staying up for."

But you're already settling into his stupidly comfortable bed. "Nope. Some of us need actual sleep, thundercloud."

"Fine," he sighs, all dramatic about it. "But just so we're clear—this isn't me giving up. It's a tactical retreat."

You actually snort at that. "A tactical retreat? Is that what we're calling it?"

"Yeah, well." He pulls the covers up, finally accepting defeat. "Pushy ain't sexy."

You both settle comfortably in the quietness of his room.

And you can't help but ponder.

It's weird how easy this feels—being here with him, joking around after what you just did. 

Like you're not just teammates or gang members or even fuck buddies.

That thought's definitely more scary than it should be.

goal: 480 notes (also lil reminder to go vote fmu 21 and 22 on wattpad after the mass unvoting to restore them, if you enjoy that story as well! (●’◡’●)ﾉ)

if you’ve enjoyed this chapter please consider buying me a coffee!! ☕️ ♡´･ᴗ･`♡

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© jungkoode 2025

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[torasplanet]

❝𝙆𝙄𝙎𝙎 𝙇𝘼𝙉𝘿.ᐟ❞

NERD! A. ARLERT + PARTY GIRL! F. READER

𝙨𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮 ; you and armin have always been close...a little too close some might say but a couple drinks and an edible at a concert makes you grow closer than before.

𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜 ; smut, fluffy(maybe??) public makeout, public fingering, emo!eren because I haven't seen that before, goth!mikasa, college au, reader can also be perceived as scene, praise, and reader skin color not mentioned

marls notes 2 u(*´▽｀*) ; comeback era! i couldn't resist but write a little something after seeing this armin fanart!! creds to @musapylsa for her art!! wrote this in one night

“C’mon, wake up. I can’t do all your work, y’know?” Armin says in your ear as you raise your head to look up at him with a pout. Armin’s cheeks bloom slightly pink at the sight of your messy hair sprawled on your face with that pout.

Sitting up, you groan as you lean back in your chair. “I’m not sleeping. I’m just thinkin’...” You mutter not listening to a single word of this boring ass lecture. You’re too tired, too. All you’ve been thinking about is what to do tonight, it feels like forever since you’ve done something. I mean, yes, you have gone out a lot, but when do you not? You just want to do something with your friends because they’re not party people like you are, well, maybe Eren is, but still not the level you are.

You’ve been so busy thinking about something you all would enjoy. “About what? You never think.” Armin says with a smile as you playfully glare at him. You slowly begin to copy some of his notes as you sigh.

“I was thinking about what to do tonight.” You admit as you lean almost on the blonde’s shoulder to read his handwriting. Armin nearly bursts into flames at how close you are to him, he gets so flustered easily around you. He just can’t help it when you’re so beautiful. 

“Didn’t you go out last night? Would it kill you to stay inside for a day?” Armin asks. He doesn’t get how you can constantly go outside and go party, he’s not really a party person. It’s mainly because he doesn’t like being there when you’re talking to other people, he gets jealous, and then he gets upset because he doesn’t have the right to be jealous. Armin’s feelings for you have always been more than a friend’s feelings should be, and to be honest, you have as well.

Those blue eyes and blonde hair have captivated you since high school, and you’ve never made a move, but you can’t help but let your stare linger when he’s around. “Probably. I wanted to do something with you guys because you don’t like parties, and I was thinking about something we could do.” You said, shrugging your shoulders. You know that parties aren’t all college is about, but there has to be some balance between all of that work and the parties, because all of this work is definitely a hassle.

An idea then sparks in your mind. “Oh! We could go to a concert, there’s one happening late tonight!” You say it louder than a whisper. A concert is the perfect idea, all four of you guys have gone to countless concerts together over the years, and it’s been fantastic.

Armin blinks at you through his glasses. “How are you going to manage getting tickets this last minute?” He asks in disbelief. Over the years and all the people that he’s known over the years, you’re the craziest person he’s known; not in the terms of partying or drinking, but because you always have the craziest ideas that always somehow manage to work out.

I mean, what do you mean you’re going to find four tickets to a concert the same day? “I’ll find out somehow. What, you don’t trust me?” You say flirtatiously as you lean close to Armin’s face, watching with glee as his face brightens up with a blush. Armin avoids eye contact with you as he feels his pants getting tighter.

“No, no! I do…I just…I don’t know.” Armin stammers over his words as you just stare up into him, fluttering your eyelashes. You grin and laugh. Armin is such a cutie, you’ve always wanted to make a move on him, but…you’ve been too scared that maybe it would mess up the group. Not to sound cocky but you were sure that he wouldn’t reject you, the way he looks at you, the way he’d be so nervous whenever you were a bit close. You were sure you could have him, but it wasn’t worth losing your other friends over. You just wanted all of you to be friends and…you were waiting for this to pass.

I guess it was taking a bit too long to pass. “Then trust me. We’ll be there tonight.” You say with a grin as you place your hand on his thigh, not missing the hard-on in his jeans and definitely not missing how it gets harder with your fingers placed on the seam of his pant leg.

Armin doubted you, even though he knew that you would find some way to do it. Just when he thought you would never get the tickets for this 8:30 PM concert and it was turning 7:00, he and Eren get that call from you with Mikasa in the background screaming about how fucking lucky the four of you are and how they should get ready. He couldn’t believe his ears. 

“I think tonight, I’m definitely gonna make a move on Mikasa,” Eren says as he smudges his eyeliner in the mirror, as Armin pulls his green tee over the white long-sleeve. Armin almost breaks his neck with how fast he turns to Eren. It’s not like it’s that new of a topic, he’s heard Eren drunkenly talking about how fucking hot he thinks Mikasa is but he usually assumed it’s just guy talk. Lots of guys will call their female friends hot and never want to make a move, not because they can’t, but just because he doesn’t want to date her, but Eren has never talked about Mikasa like this before.

“What? You actually are gonna like…ask her out?” Armin says, trying to figure out the right words. He’s been talking the same in terms of this since middle school, if he had a quarter for every time someone would make fun of him for that, he wouldn’t be in student debt right now.

Eren turns his head as he pauses his smudges. “I mean, yeah. You think she’s not into me?” Eren says, turning back toward the mirror. Of course, Armin doesn’t think that everyone he’s ever met has been into Eren. He just thinks that maybe this will create a rift in the friend group, like maybe they’ll start dating and just start doing things on their own and never meet up with him or you ever again.

Armin hums nervously. “No…maybe she does, but like, don’t you think it’ll kind of ruin the group?” Armin asks. Not so much worried about them but about his feelings for you, he’s thought that maybe acting on his feelings would affect all of you guys’ friendship. If Eren doesn’t care and if Mikasa doesn’t care, then maybe that’s a green light.

Eren shrugs. “No, do you think so? I think it’ll just be us but like me and Mikasa are fucking like you and [Y/N].” He says with a teasing tone, which makes Armin blush. Eren had never stopped teasing Armin for his crush on you since he found out about it. Armin always denies it, but Eren does not believe him.

Eren has not believed him since the day he woke up to Armin moaning your name in his sleep. “We’re not! I don’t know why you keep saying that.” Armin says, embarrassed as he rolls his eyes. “And I don’t think it’d be weird…” He finishes as he stuffs his hands into his pockets.

The brunette turns around and faces his childhood friend with a smug grin. “Great then…Maybe, I don’t know, maybe you can start tonight. Finally show her that new piercing. Because I’m sure, and Mikasa would be relieved once you two finally get together.” Eren says, gesturing to Armin’s mouth. Armin groans in annoyance. He hadn’t been intentionally hiding his new tongue piercing, you just hadn’t noticed for some reason. I mean, you definitely noticed how in the first few weeks of getting his piercing, he would speak in whispers and barely open his mouth, but after a few excuses, you stopped pushing it.

Armin did not even want the piercing. Eren had convinced him to get it because he was getting his eyebrow pierced and didn’t want to do it alone, claiming that the eyebrow piercing pain would be so harsh, and Armin should get a lighter piercing to help him with it. Armin fell for that bullshit just to have his tongue swollen and painful for weeks while Eren walked around pain free with a new piercing.

“You are so crude. We’re just really close friends, nothing about it.” Armin says, adjusting his glasses. Eren does not buy that excuse whatsoever, but he decides not to push it anymore because it will ultimately end in nothing.

Eren pushes his hair back into a man bun before shrugging. “Whatever, we should head over there, right?” He says, and Armin nods, watching as the man digs in his drawer and slips something in his pocket, but he doesn’t bother to say anything about it.

The two men walk over to the door and open it just to see the two girls in front of it with Mikasa’s hand raised as if she were getting ready to knock. “Oh hey, we were literally about to get you.” She says with a smile on her face, although Armin is having a hard time focusing on her words when he’s too busy staring at you. That skirt is so flowy, and that tank hugs you so nicely that he can’t help but stare at your chest. With how the two of you girls are dressed, he feels as though he’s underdressed with just his dark-washed jeans and his layered shirts. 

You notice his gaze on your body and grin, but you don’t say anything about it. “We got drinks. We can pregame on the train. let’s go.” You say, grinning at the boys, smiling a bit too hard at the blonde. You guys would be taking the train if it wasn’t for Eren crashing his fucking car when he was drunk-driving but instead, you’re on the train to a concert. 

It doesn’t take too long to get to the train station, and it doesn’t take long for the train to come either. “I know you’re not really a drinker, so you won’t need that much.” You say to Armin as you two sit in a two-seater on the train in front of Eren and Mikasa, who had sat in the same seat. Armin gulps as you open up the bottle before holding it out to him. From how eager you are to drink with him, it makes him think you had a pregame for the pregame. “Open up, baby boy.” You say, grabbing hold of his chin, which makes the blonde’s legs shake in excitement. His hands go to the bottom of his shirt in an effort to pull it down and cover his boner.

Armin opens his mouth as he lifts his head in the air before you begin to pour the alcohol into his mouth until half of it is gone. Your gaze lingers on his Adam's apple bobbing from his swallowing rather than the colored liquid that falls into his mouth. Armin finally swallows the last bit and lets his lips linger on the opening, seemingly drinking down whatever was dripping, and looks at you as his face contorts into one of displeasure as if he had eaten an entire lemon. “Gross. You couldn’t have found a better tasting one?” Armin mutters as he sticks his tongue out in disgust, and there’s a gleam in your eyes.

You look as if you had just seen an angel yourself. “When did you get that?” You ask, almost dazed as you point at the ball on the flat of his tongue.

Armin sucks his tongue back into his mouth as he gulps. “A couple of weeks ago, I think a month. Eren convinced me.” He says with an awkward chuckle as he scratches the back of his neck, still coming back from the awful taste in his mouth. 

You think you’ll thank Eren for the rest of your life for this. You feel your panties sticking to your body just at the mere sight of that, and all the thoughts flood through your brain about what he could do with that. “It…it looks good.” You say with a ridiculous, silly smile on your face as you down the rest of the drink. Armin’s eyes linger on your lips wrapped around the opening, it’s almost like an indirect kiss, but it is not enough for him. He needs your lips on his, he needs your lips everywhere on his body.

“You guys want edibles?” Eren says, and Armin nods a bit too fast. Armin has always been more of a smoker rather than a drinker, and by smoker, he means eating edibles. It makes him feel better than drinking because he doesn’t think when he’s high; drinking makes him think so much that he can’t control what he’s saying. He needs to be both to balance it out. “There’s only two, so share,” Eren says, handing the boy a gummy.

Armin smiles before biting half of the gummy and offering it to you. You grin at the boy before leaning down and eating the other half, biting his fingers just a little bit with the most shit-eating smile on your face in the world. Armin is about to cum in his pants if you don’t stop what you’re doing. He knows you know what you’re doing. You know it too. You smile at him before leaning on his side and resting your head against his shoulder.

The blonde has always disliked how much of a tease you were. Grabbing his thigh, lying on him, holding him, you know the things that make him tick, and you know what makes his jeans get tighter, and you use it against him. It makes him so angry, but he can never stay angry with you. How could anyone? “You got those tongue piercings for the girls, huh? Want to learn new tricks to show off?” You say, peering up at Armin, who feels as though the alcohol is already hitting him. 

He scoffs, ignoring the heat on his face. “No…I just thought it’d be cool…” Armin says, shrugging his shoulders. Armin won’t lie, well, at least not in his head, he had thought about it a lot. He had thought about you a lot since this tongue piercing. He had thought about how bad he wanted to pry those legs apart and have his fit of blonde locks stuffed between them with his glasses in your hand as the other grabs at his hair as if he’s going to send you into a coma with how the ball of piercing rolls onto your clit.

Your moans would echo into his ears as he tried to stop himself from pouncing on you and ruining you. It’s been the center of his fantasy for a while, he’s dreamt about it while sneaking his hands in his pants, hoping Eren would be out for the rest of the night. Or when he’s in the bathroom with the shower running, trying to cover his whimpers. 

“Really? I’m surprised a little pervert like you hasn’t thought of anything like that, I definitely would.” You tease before looking away, but Armin does not miss how your hand lands on his thigh. He furrows his brows as he shuffles in his seat, already feeling the reality in front of him warping slightly. “Oh, we’re here.” You say as you remove your hand before standing from your seat as the train stops.

Armin says nothing as he stands as well and follows the three of you out of the train. You’ve always been touchy, but something about tonight makes him feel different than before. Maybe it’s his talk with Eren earlier and the fact that he knows that neither Eren nor Mikasa would care if anything happened between the two of you. Maybe he will do something tonight. I mean, he’s already seen Eren and Mikasa flirting not so subtly tonight. You don’t care. He doesn’t care. It won’t be that big of a deal.

By the time you four get to the concert, you’re about thirty minutes late and already drunk off your asses with all the bottles gone as well as high. “Oh my god! We got here just in time for the perfect song!” You screech as soon as you get done showing the security the tickets. Grabbing Mikasa’s hand, you drag her into the standing section, stumbling over your feet, listening to her laugh aloud. 

The two of you sing aloud with the lyrics, not caring if you can’t feel your throat in the morning or how sore your vocal cords will get. You smile at the black-haired girl as you run your fingers through her hair, which she has let down for once in a while. “You look so pretty tonight!” You scream at her as she smiles with her black lipstick stretching across her lips.

The girl stares at you with glee. “You look even better,” Mikasa says, and you giggle at her. “Can I tell you a secret?” She asks to get closer to whisper to you. The girl glances a few feet in front of you at the boys, particularly Eren, and you notice this and know the secret is about him, so you nod. “I think I wanna…take Eren to bed tonight? We’ve been flirting all night.” Mikasa says with a grin as she briefly licks her lips without her lipstick faltering, not a bit, you might have to ask her what brand that is after all of this happens.

“Really? I mean, I’m not hating but…you don’t think that’ll like fuck up all of our group? Y’know what happened after that whole Sasha and Niccolo thing.” You say. Ever since you’ve witnessed how Sasha, Connie, and Jean have been a tad bit distant since they started dating, you didn’t want that to happen to you four. It’s not like they stopped being friends, but they just weren’t the same as before. That was your biggest fear.

Mikasa shrugged. “I don’t think so. I think it’ll be the same, we won’t make out in front of you all. It’ll be us, but sometimes we’ll do our own thing like normally, y’know?” She says, and you nod before smiling and laughing. Maybe it really isn’t that big of a deal, then if you do something with Armin, now you feel all silly for thinking that all of that time. 

“Then yeah. You should, I can get him for you!” You say getting excited about Mikasa finally finding someone for her. For eras and phases of your lives, you’ve heard Mikasa talking about finding her true love, and maybe Eren might not be that person, but you’re still happy for her for finding someone anyway!

Mikasa gasps. “You don’t have to, we can have our time, and then I could do that.” She says, and you shake your head at her words. You don’t take it very personally if she wants to spend time with Eren tonight, because with this newly found information, you have a new mission on hand.

You give her a sly grin this time. “Don’t worry, Armin will entertain me while you deal with emo over there.” You say, and Mikasa returns your grin before leaning forward to gently peck your cheek as a thanks for your actions. It’s not so much a sacrifice, it’s almost like a blessing for Mikasa because you can’t remember the last time she’s gotten some dick.

Slipping away from the girl, you head over to the two boys who are chatting and tap on Eren’s shoulder. “Mika wants you over there.” You say with a smirk on your glossy lips. Eren’s eyes light up with joy, and he shares a look with his best friend before scooting away toward the gothic girl, as you stay where you are watching as he does so. Once they start talking, you shift your gaze over to the boy you’re left with. It seems he had already been staring at you, not sparing a glance for his friend.

“Hey.” You say loud enough he can hear as you gaze up at him through your lashes, blinking slowly. Armin stares at you as if he had never seen you a day in his life with those reddened scleras through the clear glass of his square glasses that hang low on his nose. 

'Cause the only thing you're takin' is your clothes off. Go 'head, girl, strip it down, close your mouth

“Hey.” He says more as a whisper, but you can still hear him. You smile as you hear your favorite song play; you hadn’t even realized it had been playing this entire time. It’s almost the perfect moment for it to settle in.

Oh yeah, don't hold back, let it out. (Nothing is going to change my love for you)

Armin looks so ethereal right now. The green lights from the stage flash behind him, and he stares at you whilst you walk just a bit closer to him. Your arms slink over his shoulders as you sway to the song, and his body slowly follows your own. His hands fall to your hips, holding them as if they belong there and for both of you. Armin swears that he can’t feel anything in this moment except you.

(Nothing is going to change my love for you). Oh girl, don't hold back, let it out. (Nothing is going to change my love for you) (Nothing is going to change my love for you)Don't hold back, let it out

He can’t see anything except your eyes staring at him. He can’t hear anything but your lips whispering the lyrics of the song. Fuck, he can’t even hear the song. You’re the only thing he notices right now. Armin would have it no other way. When your hands fall from his shoulders, his hands fall from your waist as he watches you screech your heart out to the song, knowing that it was your favorite. It was newbie knowledge that it was your favorite. Of course, he’s known this since high school.

(Nothing is going to change my love for you) (Nothing is going to change my love for you)

Oh yeah, don't hold back

Armin’s heart speeds up as he watches you, his breathing grows faster and harsher as his lips quirk up in the slightest smirk. Eventually, you notice his stare and lack of movement and stare back at him, expecting something to be wrong, but he says nothing. Armin smiles at you as he breathes heavily. The light flashes between his smiles, and almost as if it’s a movie, every time the light gets bright once more, he gets closer. Your heart speeds up as you stand frozen, watching him move.

I got a brand new place, I think I've seen it twice all year; I can't remember how it looks inside. So you can picture how my life's been

Armin doesn’t even register what he’s doing; he can barely register that he’s moving, and it’s not because of his lack of sobriety. It’s because of you. All he wants is you, and his body knows it much more than his mind does. “Can I kiss you?” He mutters once he’s face-to-face with you. He can feel your breath on his lips as he stares down at you through his glasses. His tongue pokes from his lips, and he runs it over his lips, making them soft and bouncy.

I went from staring at the same four walls for 21 years, to seein' the whole world in just 12 months. Been gone for so long, I might have just found God

For once, a man has made you anxious. Your hands are shaky along with your thighs, your panties are completely soaked as you stare at the glasses-clad man. Looking to your side, you see that Mikasa and Eren have already begun to make out. Without a thought in your mind, you turn back to Armin, who is patiently awaiting your answer, already knowing what it is. You grab hold of his fogged-up glasses and push them up into his bangs before smashing your lips into his own soft ones.

Well, probably not, if I keep my habits up

You press your lips against his before allowing his tongue to poke into your mouth. His hands grab at your hips harsher than the first time as he presses his body roughly against yours as if there’s a wall behind you that’d support the two of you. Your hands hold onto his jaw as you two make out passionately, moaning and groaning into the kiss. It feels like you’ve been waiting for ages for this, and you have. Armin has as well, and he kisses as such.

Probably not if I can't keep up with lovin'. And I can't stand talkin' to brand new girls

He’s hungry. Starving almost. His boner pokes you harshly as he tries to get relief by grinding into you. One of his hands falls to your skirt and slowly sneaks up it and between your thighs, which have gotten stuck together at this point. You separate your legs, giving him access to do what he pleases with you. The pads of his fingers slide over your underwear that aren't hiding anything, his finger practically drags along your slit which makes you shiver.

Only bitches down to fuck when you shower them with ones. Probably not if my n*ggas round them up

Armin runs his tongue over your lip, the ball of his tongue ring lingering on your bottom lip before he briefly detaches his lips from yours to look at you. “This all for me?” Armin mutters into your ear as his lips go to your neck. You whine with a nod as you feel his fingers sliding past the band of your panties and sliding them to the side as if they were nothing but a door holding him back from the gift of life. “How many nights you did this to yourself, thinkin’ about me?” Armin whispers to you as his thumb circles around your clit which makes you squirm almost closer your legs on him but a bite on your neck makes you stop.

Probably not if we take 'em to my spot

“Every.” You mutter as his fingers slip into your hole immediately poking at the sweetest spot in your body as he continues to toy with your clit. This sweet spot is what Armin has wanted to poke at his entire life of knowing you. “Every…night.” You moan as he bites and sucks onto your neck rolling his tongue ring over the base of your neck. You feel your release coming closer and closer, and squeeze your legs tight.

Probably not if I tweak all day just to sleep at night. Goddamn, I'm high

“C’mon, be good. Let me make you feel good.” Armin mutters flirtatiously to you as his fingers move faster inside of you, chasing that release almost as if it’s his own. He wants it to be his own but from how hard his dick is inside of his boxers, he’s sure he can get it just from watching your face twist and having your thighs trap his hands.

My doctor told me to stop. And he gave me somethin' to pop

You mutter apologies as you grip onto his shoulders, rocking your hips into his hand desperately as if it’s your first orgasm ever. “Armin, I’m cumming. Oh god, I love you so much. Please, ugh!”

You moan louder than you anticipated, but you’re sure no one can hear you, and even if they can, they don’t care. “Uhn! ‘Min!” You mewl into him as you come undone all onto his hand, filthying his fingers and the insides of your thighs. 

And I mix it up with some Adderall. And I wait to get to the top

“That’s it. So good for me. My pretty girl.” Armin says as he slowly pulls his hands from you, as you whine, wanting another one. You want more and more until you can’t take it anymore. Armin groans as he shows you your slick all over his fingers as it shines in the flashing lights. He ticks that pierced tongue of his out, and you drowsily gaze at the piercing and how his fingers slide onto his tongue, and your slick paints his pink tongue along with the silver ball. He sucks on his fingers moaning at your taste.

And I mix it up with some alcohol, and I pour it up in a shot. I don't care about you, why you worried 'bout me?

The sweetest taste he’d ever had. He can’t tell if it actually tastes that amazing or if it’s fascination for you taking over his entire body, even if his taste buds. “Tastes so nice.” He says, looking at you with those half-lidded eyes. You stare at him and tiredly shove his glasses back onto his face, missing the nerdy look of the man. He leans forward and kisses you once more with the same passionate feeling but less roughness. Less neediness because he has you.

All I want is that smoke, give me all of that smoke. Last week was my rough week

Armin has never been one to get what he wants in this world, and he certainly did not think he would be able to score a girl he’s had a crush on since sophomore year, but here he is. He can say he’s won at life officially. Jean, Eren, and Connie’s sex stories have nothing on this, he doesn’t care what they have to say. Armin’s lips leave yours, and you whine at the missing feeling, making him grin. “Want to be my girlfriend?” He asks, putting his hand on your waist.

I'm still drippin' down from my nose. And I don't know how to drive, I make my driver get high

You roll your eyes at him. “I just told you I loved you when you were fingering me, is that even a question?” You say as you huff out a breath, still coming down from your orgasm that Armin had just provided for you.

But if he goes under that 110, believe my driver will get fired. And I don't got any friends, I got XO in my bloodwork

Armin laughs and hugs you with no words coming from him. “I’m glad I wasn’t just a hit and miss.” He mutters, and you smile. Armin could never be a hit and miss for you, you knew that the day you had Armin you wouldn’t desire to have anyone else and for a guy who looks and talks as though he has never felt a woman’s touch or anyone’s touch for that matter, he knows how to work his fingers pretty fucking well. Maybe all those wet dreams he had and all that porn did something right.

And I'm posted up down in Florida. Ft. Lauderdale to that MIA

He eventually detaches his form from you and just lets one arm wrap around your waist as he focuses on the concert for once this night, even though he still cannot believe what he has achieved tonight. Looking over, he sees Eren, who briefly looks over at him, and they share a look. Eren bites his lip and looks over at you with raised eyebrows, and Armin grins at him, not noticing how you and Mikasa share the same look.

Cold drinks with Grand Marnier. To the break of dawn, Kahlua milk

Mikasa gives you a thumbs-up, which switches to a thumbs-down, asking how it went, but you’re so exhausted that you cannot even lift your arm. You give your friend a sleepy smile as you lean further into Armin and watch the dots connect in her mind until she grins at you. Still, you don’t think she’ll understand what has just happened, let alone the feeling of it all, not only pleasure-wise but mentally. Maybe she’ll just have to hear about it on a rant tomorrow because you’re definitely not letting Armin leave your side until he’s under the blankets with you.

©torasplanet .ᐟ reblogs and likes are very appreciated! pls do not repost!!

[erodasfishtacos]

The Bikini Top That Started It ||FWB!H ||

prompt: a look into h and yn's relationship/ how it started

word count: 4.5k

warnings: body shaming, bullying/teasing, toxic relationships, infidelity

PART ONE

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---

YN didn’t know why she felt so off the entire next day at work.

There was no specific trigger she could point to—no hangover, no fight, no tangible reason for the discomfort prickling beneath her skin.

But she could link it to knowing that she felt it instantly after getting her own car after saying ‘goodbye’ to Harry. 

The moment she stepped into the office that morning, everything felt... misaligned.

Her usual rhythm was gone. 

Tasks she could normally do with her eyes closed took longer, her mind drifting constantly, and her body felt disconnected, almost like she was watching herself go through the motions from a few feet above.

It didn’t take long for Georgia to notice.

After her own presentation mid-morning, Georgia made a detour into YN’s office. 

She leaned casually against the doorframe, but there was a suspicion in the way she was looking at YN.

“You’re not hungover, are you?” She asked, tilting her head slightly, “You alright?”

YN managed a quick nod, followed by a small, forced smile,“Yeah. Just… tired, I guess.”

It wasn’t a lie, not exactly. 

She was tired—but more in the emotional, soul-crushing way than physically. 

She was exhausted by the whirlwind of last night, the closeness, the intimacy, the thrill—and now, this strange emotional hangover she couldn’t seem to shake.

She wished she could tell Georgia everything. 

She always told her everything. 

Georgia was her best friend, her rock, her sounding board through every high and low. 

Maybe if she shared what had happened, what was happening, Georgia could help her make sense of why she felt like this.

But it was too deep now. 

Too far gone.

What she had with Harry didn’t feel like something she could hand over for analysis just yet. 

It was special, wrapped in something soft and untouchable. 

So she kept it quiet, close to her chest.

Part of it was selfishness. 

She wanted to keep it hers for just a little while longer.

And another part—the bigger one, maybe was fear. 

Fear that once other people knew, once it left the cocoon of secrecy, it would change.

Shift and maybe even end.

Because if she admitted it out loud, it would suddenly feel real.

And if it was real, it could break.

The restlessness hadn’t left her all day. 

It sat in her chest like an itch she couldn’t reach, an unsettled fluttering that made her check her phone more often than she should, hoping for a text, a message, anything. 

She felt like she couldn’t breathe properly until she saw him again.

Did he enjoy their night?

Did she do a good job?

It was all this anxiety spurring around whether or not she had pleased him when she knew she did, she had clear evidence dripping down her thighs on the drive home that he had but it was still eating at her because she just wanted to be good for him and she hoped that she had been.

Georgia wouldn’t tell anyone if YN asked her not to.

 That wasn’t the issue but Georgia—subtle as she could be was always observant.

Always catching things others didn’t. 

If she knew, even subconsciously, she’d start noticing things. 

Little glances, lingering touches, moments where Harry and YN looked at each other for just a second too long. 

She’d piece it together, not because she meant to but because she couldn't help it.

And YN didn’t want anyone looking at them like that.

Especially not Georgia.

Because Georgia would remind her that this might not be a good idea. 

That despite all the chemistry, all the history, there were things at play here that could make everything fall apart.

Georgia knew YN had always had a little thing for Harry.

It was an old joke among their group, really—a harmless little crush that had bloomed years ago when they first met. 

Back when Harry was still dating Lauren, and YN was still tangled up in things with Ben. 

She never admitted the depth of it, how often he crossed her mind, how her stomach flipped every time he smiled in her direction.

It faded in and out, when things were going alright with Ben - she thought much less about him, maybe fleeting or admiring how pretty his smile is from afar but nothing more than that.

When things were going poorly with Ben, that’s when she would be hyper aware of what a gentleman Harry was.

The way Harry would pull out chairs for Lauren, the way he always seemed to be attuned to her needs—refilling her drink without being asked, checking on her without being annoying. 

The way he touched her, casually but consistently, that steady arm around her shoulders, the quiet presence at her side. 

YN found herself wondering what it felt like to be in her place.

Not to be Lauren.

Just… to be his.

She told herself it was normal. 

Everyone had crushes.

But there was one night, one very specific night, that changed everything.

It was almost five months ago now.

A week before Harry and Lauren split up.

About a month before she and Ben finally fell apart completely.

They were at Jessa’s parents’ vacation home on the lake, just a few hours out of the city. 

It was a stunning place—, big windows overlooking the water, and a wrap-around deck where the group gathered for drinks most nights. 

YN just wanted to go home.

The whole thing was supposed to be carefree -swimming, drinking, boating, lazy afternoons in hammocks and loud, wine-drunk dinners.

A friend group reunion where everyone could unwind. 

But all YN could feel was the constant pressure in her chest—the heaviness that came from being surrounded by happy, touchy couples while her own relationship teetered on the edge of collapse.

Ben had been picking fights since they pulled out of the driveway, and YN was no longer biting her tongue. 

She was too tired to pretend anymore, every word between them was tinged with irritation. 

Harry, though… Harry was different.

He had a calmness to him that put her at ease, over the last couple years, they'd gotten close in a quiet way— just shared conversations and glances that lingered too long. 

They didn’t text every day, didn’t hang out one-on-one, but when they talked, it was deeper than anything she ever managed with Ben. 

Their conversations felt safe and real, like being seen without having to ask for it.

It was the first night at the lake house.

A big drinking game had started on the back deck—flip cup, then beer pong—but YN and Harry had quietly opted out after the first round, drifting away from the table. 

It wasn’t intentional. 

Their seats were just next to each other. 

Then one topic turned into another, and the game quickly became background noise.

He had a few beers in him. 

Not drunk, but loosened enough to speak more freely than usual.

They started with her promotion—she was newly promoted at work, and Harry was genuinely interested, asking thoughtful questions about what it meant, what she wanted to do with it. 

Then the conversation shifted, he admitted, almost shyly, how overwhelmed he was with his business, how being self-employed, with no employees, meant that every responsibility was his—and that sometimes, the weight of it crushed him a little.

He got quieter, more serious, as he spoke about his mom, about how she couldn’t afford a medication she needed a few years back, and how that moment lit something in him. 

That was when he knew he needed to build something sustainable—not just for himself, but to be able to take care of her.

The way he talked about her was so soft, protective, grateful—it nearly undid YN. 

Her eyes prickled with tears she didn’t want to explain.

It was rare, so rare, to see a man speak so openly and lovingly about his mother.

The game was wrapping up, noise and movement shifted their way. 

Ben was slowly stumbling toward her, drink in hand. 

Lauren was making her way toward Harry, too, giggling and clearly far too drunk, her voice shrill even before she got close.

And that’s when Harry said it—quiet, like it slipped out without permission.

“Thanks for listening. I can’t talk to Lauren like this.”

YN blinked at him, caught off guard, a  response was forming on her tongue—What? Talk about your feelings? but she swallowed it. 

Instead, she leaned over and squeezed his knee gently, a reassurance, “You can talk to me anytime, Harry.”

He looked at her then, really looked at her. 

There was a sadness there she hadn’t expected. 

His hand, warm and steady, wrapped around hers, “You're too sweet, you know that?”

She barely had time to process it before Lauren practically collapsed into his lap, laughing and wrapping her arms around him. 

YN pulled her hand back immediately, heart skipping.

Lauren didn’t notice—too drunk, too loud, too focused on getting Harry’s attention.

But YN noticed. 

And so did Harry.

+

The next day, the heat was vicious.

Most of the group had migrated down to the lake to cool off, but the core crew—Mitch, Hailee, Georgia, Jessa, Niall, Harry, and Ben—had stayed back at the house pool. 

Lauren had tried to coax Harry to join her and her friends at the lake, but he’d refused, gently but firmly.

YN had watched the tension build in Lauren’s posture before she stormed off with a passive-aggressive comment under her breath.

Harry’s jaw tightened, she saw the way he stared after her like he wanted to shout something—but didn’t.

Instead, he just turned back to the pool and slipped into the water like nothing had happened.

YN and Ben hadn’t been having a good morning.

He’d woken her up—twice trying to initiate sex even after she told him no. 

She was exhausted, emotionally and physically, and had made a snide comment about his "functioning hand" and the lotion in the bathroom which sparked a meltdown. 

He slammed the bathroom door, only to storm out moments later, furious that she hadn’t chased after him.

It was always like that—she was either cruel for ignoring him or manipulative for engaging. 

She was so tired of the drama, of walking on eggshells, of being made to feel like she was impossible to love.

She didn’t want to be here.

No, she would much rather be at her own apartment and away from all the alcohol, all the mean girls, and most importantly she wanted to be away from her own boyfriend which was pathetic.

She didn’t want to think about how he'd casually mentioned engagement the night before, and how she’d had to fight the urge to physically gag at the idea.

YN was at the point of knowing that she needed to break up with him, she thought about it everyday but hesitated constantly because she didn’t want to do with the meltdown that he would have, the messiness that would be their breakup because he was convinced that they were going to get married.

But it was fine. 

At some point while everyone was chatting, Harry swam up beside her, casual, but with serious eyes—as he asked, “Alright?”

YN nodded subtly, but she knew it didn’t match her demeanor—her body was tense, her jaw tight, and she hadn’t managed even the faintest smile.

Harry’s frown deepened, eyes narrowing slightly, “What’s wrong?”

But before she could answer, Niall was yelling something at Harry, pulling his attention away, and by the time he turned back to ask again, YN had already swum off—wanting to avoid the conversation entirely.

-

Someone decided that it would be a good idea to play chicken.

YN was perched on Ben’s shoulders, legs wrapped around his neck awkwardly for balance.

Hailee was on Mitch’s.

It was chaotic and loud—everyone laughing, cheering, the water sloshing around them in waves. 

YN was laughing too, even if it felt a little forced, until suddenly—she toppled off Ben’s shoulders. 

One second she was upright, and the next she was plunging under the surface, her mouth open in a surprised gasp that filled with water.

She came up sputtering, blinking chlorine from her eyes, heart pounding.

Something didn’t feel right.

Then the cold hit her chest, bare skin where there should have been fabric.

Her bikini top was gone.

Instinctively, her hands flew to her breasts, trying to cover as much as she could.

And there was Ben grinning like an idiot, waving her neon pink bikini top in the air like it was some kind of sick trophy.

He let out a loud, mocking catcall, “Wooo! There are the girls!”

YN flinched in horror, the noise drawing attention to her. 

When she turned toward him, she saw the glint in his eye—playful, smug, and entirely unkind.

“Ben, stop,” She squeaked, voice cracking as she reached for the top with one hand, still desperately trying to shield herself with the other,  “Please, give it back.”

Her chest was half-exposed, at least one nipple visible, and the realization made her stomach turn.

“What do I get for giving it back?” Ben teased, his voice boyish and cruel. 

He laughed as he held the top just out of her reach, standing a head taller than her in the water.

It was the kind of joke a schoolyard bully would make—mean-spirited, immature, humiliating.

Tears prickled at the corners of her eyes.

She felt small. 

Exposed. 

Powerless.

Her boyfriend—the person who was supposed to protect her, make her feel safe was the one putting her through this. 

He didn’t care that other people could see her, didn’t care that she was clearly distressed.

And then, like the final punchline to his awful little joke, he whipped the bikini top out of the pool and flung it toward the grass, where it landed in a limp, fluorescent pile.

That was it.

Tears were streaming freely now—hot with embarrassment and shame.

No one was laughing anymore.

She heard someone mutter under their breath, quiet but cutting. 

“That’s kind of fucked up.” 

It was Niall.

And then, everything happened fast.

Water splashed violently as Harry stormed across the pool, his expression thunderous. 

His jaw was clenched, chest heaving slightly as he shoved Ben back with both hands, nearly knocking him off balance.

“What the fuck is your issue?” He roared, loud enough that it echoed.

Ben stumbled, caught off guard, arms flailing for balance, “Jesus, relax—”

But Harry was already turning away from him, walking through the water toward YN.

She froze.

She’d never seen him this angry—never even close.

 It was intense, nearly frightening in its rawness but when he reached her, his expression shifted—anger still simmering beneath the surface, but his voice was calm and firm.

“Get out of the pool,” He said, not a question, “Walk in front of me.”

She knew she looked pitiful—her soaked hair clinging to her cheeks, red-rimmed eyes, lips trembling as she tried to keep her arms folded tightly over her chest.

“Look the other fuckin’ way!” Harry snapped over his shoulder at the group. 

His hand pressed gently to her lower back, guiding her forward with quiet urgency.

Her cheeks were hot and flushed, not just from shame, but from the self-consciousness she’d carried for so long—her chest was small, her nipples puffy in a way Ben had often joked about. 

She hated that people had seen her like this, hated that it had happened in front of him.

Harry  steered her to the side of the pool where the lounge chairs were, grabbed his crumpled t-shirt from a cushion, and without a word, pulled it gently over her head. 

He held it carefully so that she was covered the entire time, only letting go when her arms were through the sleeves and the oversized fabric draped over her hips.

“Thank you,” She sniffled, voice shaky, weak.

Her cheeks burned hotter. 

She didn’t know if she was more embarrassed that people had seen the most insecure part of her body… or that her boyfriend had been the one to expose it, to ridicule her when she was vulnerable.

It was overwhelming.

It was shameful.

Harry’s voice was soft again, quieter now. “I ca—”

“I’m, uh…” She cut in, shaking her head, trying to keep her voice even, it cracked anyway, “I’m just going to go to my room for a bit.”

He didn’t get a chance to respond. 

She was already scurrying off, the hem of his shirt clinging to her wet skin as she fled.

-

Ben followed eventually.

His apology was weak at best. 

More of a backhanded dismissal—mumbling things like, “You can’t take a joke,” and “Sorry you don’t have a sense of humor.”

The cherry on top: “They’re just tits.”

YN kicked him out twice. 

She didn’t show her face the rest of the day.

By the time Ben returned to the room to get ready for dinner, she hadn’t moved from the bed. 

Her back was to him, knees drawn up toward her chest beneath the covers, the TV playing some trashy reality show on low volume.

This wasn’t how she’d imagined her vacation.

Ben came out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist and an annoyed scowl on his face.

“Why aren’t you getting ready? The dinner reservation’s at seven. Everyone’s going.”

“I don’t feel like it,” YN said softly, voice flat. 

She didn’t look at him.

Ben huffed like he was the one being inconvenienced, “Are you seriously still throwing a temper tantrum about earlier?”

She swallowed down the hurt, tried to steady the anger swirling just beneath her skin, “I said I don’t feel like it.”

“Whatever,” He muttered, grabbing a shirt from his suitcase, “I don’t want you to come if you’re going to have a piss-poor attitude anyway. Fucking bullshit. You always manage to find something wrong.”

-

The house was empty.

Everyone had gone out to dinner.

YN stayed behind.

Eventually, after some mindless comfort TV and a generous handful of junk food, she started to feel the tight grip on her chest begin to loosen.

One of her favorite things to do was go for a night swim—when the sun was setting, and the sky turned neon orange and pink, and the air was still warm but quiet.

So she changed into a fresh bathing suit, assuming her old top was still out on the grass where it had landed, and made her way outside.

The pool was still.

Peaceful.

Exactly what she needed.

She brought a book with her, propping her elbows on the edge of the pool as she read.

“S’that book any good?”

YN screams, a girlish high-pitched yelp because when the fuck did Harry appear?

He was standing towards the shallow end of the pool, still in his short swim shorts and a fresh shirt.

“Jesus,” YN puts a hand on her chest, “You nearly gave me a heart attack.”

Harry’s mouth curved into a soft smile, eyes crinkling with amusement. 

“Sorry, darling,” he said gently, voice teasing but careful, his steps slow as he approached the edge of the pool.

His voice was warm—teasing, but careful.

Darling.

He’d called that a few times when they’d have private conversations but never in front of others.

“What are you doing here? Why didn’t you go to dinner?” YN asks with confusion, she does a quick glance around and doesn’t see Lauren or anyone else for that matter.

Harry eased down beside her, slipping his feet into the water. 

“Lauren and I weren’t getting along,” He admitted, watching the ripples curl away from his ankles, “I needed a break. She wasn’t too happy about earlier.”

YN wanted to point out that he hadn’t even spent any of the day with her and he needed a break already.

YN’s brows pinched. “Earlier?”

He let out a dry, humorless laugh and shook his head, “Yeah. Georgia told her what happened. She told me I overstepped, that I should’ve kept my mouth shut. Then she asked if I saw your tits.”

YN rolled her eyes, the sound more tired than annoyed, “Did you tell her not to worry? That there’s nothing to see anyway?”

Harry’s eyes snapped to hers, his jaw tightening, “Why would you talk about yourself like that?”

She glanced away, shoulders shrinking in on themselves, feeling put on the spot suddenly, “It’s just the truth. I already feel insecure about them on a good day. And today…” She trailed off, swallowing hard, “It felt like Ben was trying to humiliate me on purpose. Like he wanted to spotlight what I hate most about my body.”

Harry snorted—a sudden, unexpected sound and it made her eyes narrow.

“You think that’s funny?” She asked, the tension in her chest tightening with anger.

“No,” Harry said, shaking his head, his grin still faint, “I think it’s ridiculous that you don’t see yourself the way everyone else does. I’m not trying to be crude or cross any lines, but I did see them—and I was impressed. Genuinely. They’re the prettiest pair I’ve ever seen.”

And just like that, YN’s whole world shifts on it’s axis.

It was inappropriate.


They were both in relationships. 

She wasn’t supposed to like hearing that but the words sank into the cracks Ben had left in her, spreading warmth where there had only been cold, embarrassed silence earlier.

“Okay, Harry,” She bleats , trying to deflect but also maybe fishing for some more compliments.

“What’s wrong with ‘em then?” Harry presses, she swears either she’s drifted closer or he’s scooted towards her subtly because her shoulder was bumping his calf now.

YN flushes at having to point out exactly what was wrong with them,, “I don’t know. I never minded them but Ben always teases me about how small they are, how small my nipples are, how puffy they are.”

Harry brow furrows, “Your own boyfriend is criticizing your body? He’s fucking blind and a douchebag. I’m not saying it just to say it. I’m a man and I can appreciate a nice pair of tits. And I am fully certified to say that.”

YN can’t help but giggle, easily when a wider grin breaks out on his face like he was pleased with himself for being able to make her laugh.

To hear that her crush thought she was attractive, at least that her breasts were, did something crazy with boosting her ego.

And then, without warning, he tugged off his shirt and slipped into the pool. 

The water rose and shifted around him, glinting in the sunset light. 

He carefully closed her book and set it aside so it wouldn’t get wet.

The quiet intimacy of it made something twist deep in her stomach.

“Why are you with him?” Harry asked after a long beat, moving further into the water. 

His voice was low, thoughtful—but there was a thread of tension under it.

YN’s taken back by the question, “I…What?”

“He treats you like shit, YN. You should break up with him over what happened earlier, let alone all the shit I’ve seen in the past,” Harry tells her with seriousness, “You deserve a million times better than a prick like him. Seriously, fuck him. No one here likes him.”

And YN…well no one had told her that before but she kenw that her friends only put up with Ben because they loved her but otherwise, he wouldn’t be a part of their friend group.

“No real man would’ve let you stand there like that, exposed and crying,” Harry continued, his voice rising just a touch, “And no decent man would say something cruel about your body.”

“He can have an opinion about how he feels about my ches-”


“No, YN. No, he really fuckin’ can’t,” Harry says firmly cutting her off, “He should love every part of you, puffy, small, or elsewise.”

Something hot and sharp flared in her.

“You can say that because your girlfriend has like perfect boobs,” YN points out, nose scrunching with frustration.

Harry shakes his head, “Did you not hear me earlier? I told you that you have the prettiest pair I’ve seen. It’s not a god damn competetion but I’m actively telling you what Ben said isn’t true.”

She rolled her eyes, muttering, “You’re romanticizing them. You saw them for all of two seconds.”

“Then show them to me again.”

Their eyes lock, YN is trying to play the words again and again because what the fuck, what the fuck, what the actual fuck?

Time stopped.

Her brain scrambled to process what he just said, but her hands were already moving, her thumbs hooked under the cups of her bikini top.

She should stop. 

She should stop.

But she didn’t.

She pulled the fabric down.

The sun had dipped just low enough to cast everything in soft, pink-orange light. 

The water shimmered against her skin, droplets clung to the curve of her breasts, and her nipples, tight from the cold, pebbled beneath Harry’s gaze.

“Fuck,” Harry curses as he comes towards her, his hand reaches out but he stops himself, his voice hoarse and raspy in a way he’s never heard, “Can I?”


And YN finds herself nodding with a dry throat, watching him carefully as his hand comes up to cup one of them, and it is fully engulfed by his palm, and he squeezes.

YN can’t help the slight gasp that leaves her lips when he thumbs over her nipple.

She jerked away, yanking her top back up like it burned her, “I can’t—fuck, we can’t do this.”

Harry froze, instantly sobering. 

His expression crumpled slightly, regret written all over his features, “Shit. YN, I didn’t mean to—can we just—”

But she was already moving, already climbing out of the pool as fast as she could, water sloshing at her knees, heart pounding in her chest like it was trying to warn her:

Too far.

[hedwig221b]

Do you know of any fics where Stiles does ballet or gymnastics or track? (Or even skating tbh) Especially fics where he keeps it a secret for a while!!! I like the idea of Derek/the pack finding out about Stiles' havin hobbies so.

I don't know about the secret thing, pretty much all of them are human aus... But here you go!

I'll dance with the wolves by artemis69

Derek is used to life changing moments. They are his sad, sad specialty. But nothing in his life has ever prepared him for the vision of Stiles entering the vast dance studio clad only in pale, tight pants and old dance shoes. Stiles sends them all a look, rolls his eyes, then turns his back to them and starts stretching.

Sun to my Moon by Writer_Jayne

Human College Student's AU where Derek is the star pitcher on the baseball team and Stiles is a ballet student. Meddling housemates lead to Derek asking Stiles to be his pretend boyfriend over Christmas break. Derek is out to his parents but they had not been respectful of his sexuality so he lied and said he had a boyfriend. This was solely inspired by an Instagram reel of Tyler Hoechlin wearing a baseball uniform in the film Undrafted. Shout out to my roomie BBCFangirl3000 for being my beta.

You're Thunder in the Sky by Delightful_I_Am

An ache settles high in his back, muscles tight across his shoulders. He revels in the burn when he stretches, hands reaching for the ceiling high above him; his foot sweeps the floor, toes pointed, his body rolling sinuously to the melody playing softly. The low music swells to a crescendo and he explodes into frenzied motion with the beat. Spinning and leaping, tumbling, never coming into contact with the floor for longer than a heartbeat, always in harmony with the music. This is when he feels alive. When everyone else has gone home and he can just feel. He lands, finally, on a wavering note, one knee dipped to the ground a sense of expectation hanging in the air, the last note dying off to leave a tense thrill in his body. He’s breathing hard as he brings his legs fully under him, lowering himself to the floor and bringing his knees to his chest, stretching his muscles. He’s so intent on warming down he fails to notice his captive audience. Fails to hear the low breath of his name.

precision. by lapislotus

Derek is transfixed. Stiles' face is contorted, lost in passion, in the music. His eyes are closed, lashes fanning over his cheeks. He’s so beautiful Derek wants to cry. OR the ballet dancer au no one asked for and I had to write.

It's not called gym-nice-tics by countrygirlsfun

It’s Beginner Gymnasts Camp and Derek has to help work it. Who knew putting up with his mother would land Derek a date with the cutest gymnast Derek has ever seen?

Falling and Missing the Ground by Strictly_Platonic

Stiles had two favorite things about the Olympic Village: the fruit bowl stocked with condoms with little miniature vaulting tables on the packaging, and the Starbucks stands in the lobbies of every single building and on the corner of every single street. Right now, having to be awake and moving at five-thirty in the goddamn morning after a late night of drinking and dancing with both the men’s and the women’s gymnastics teams, he was especially fond of the Starbuckses.

Home On The Ice by LadyDrace

Derek plays hockey in college, and one day his team has to share the rink with a figure skater. That's when things start getting really interesting.

Take The Ice by Hopeless ships (The_Danish_Biscuit)

To Derek Hale hockey was everything. It was the only reason he even tolerated High School and if given a choice the only thing he would be doing for the rest of his life. Some called him driven others called him fanatic. Derek called himself determined. Only one day a random meeting with a strangely fascinating young ice skater turns Derek's life upside down. A odd friendship blooms between them and Derek slowly comes to realise that his life isn't quite as simple as he thought. There might be more to life than ice hockey.

Triple Axel (Into My Heart) by raimykeller

Derek just wants to win one Olympic gold medal before he retires from skating. Stiles just wants to win Derek. AKA Olympics AU with men's figure skaters Stiles & Derek

[masterlist link]

[ronweasleysgf]

i know you want it | steve harrington ✿

MDNI - 18+ | navigation - m.list 𝜗୧ | REQUEST OPEN !

summary: While your boss is away, You and Steve are alone, Steve convinces you to had sex with him…again.

paring: co-worker!steve x reader

wc: 2k

warnings: smut, pinv, unprotected sex (do this irl AND reader is on birth control) dry humping, fingering, sorta public sex but not really, friend or co-workers with benefits, swearing, reader tries to convince herself she wasn’t want to get dug out by steve

a/n: so this is my first smut so it’s probably really shitty LOL :p, you have any critiques lmk bc i need all the help i can get lol (this was cross posted on ao3 @/freddiebensonsgf) - aydella

NSFW UNDER THE CUT - MINORS DNI </3

“I have to go out of town and get some supplies, i’ll be gone for a couple of hours,” your boss announces as he walks from behind the Scoops Ahoy front counter. “And don’t go fooling around. Tend to our guest please” he demands, with a knowing look, as if he knows exactly what you and Steve do when he's not there. “Aye aye captain!” Steve replied sarcastically, rolling his eyes at your boss's rules.

As soon as your boss is out of your line of vision, you feel the presence of your brunette co-worker right behind you, he is so close you almost feel his broad chest flat against your back. “What do you want, Steve?” you try your best to sound annoyed so maybe he can leave you alone. “Oh, nothing! Just a little bored, I wanna have some fun…what about you?” you can hear the slick smile in his voice, you both know exactly what kind of fun he’s talking about. The kind of fun you had basically every week.

This always happens when it’s just you and Steve working, when Robin and your boss aren't there, you both end up going into the breakroom, ripping each other's clothes off and rutting into each other like you were feral, it was becoming a problem. Every single time you and Steve were in the same room, with no one else around, it’s like a switch flips inside of you.

“C’mon..I know you want it” he purrs, while stroking the back of your forearm, leaving goosebumps across your skin. After all of the time you guys have gotten together, he knows exactly what gets you going. You feel his breath fan across the back of your neck, that feeling in your stomach starts stirring, traveling down into your sex making you wetter and wetter.

“No. I told you the other day, that was the last time, Steven.” you argue, trying to convince yourself you don’t want this. He scoffed at the use of his formal name. He removes his hand from your arm, shifts from behind you, and stands next to you, he looks at you with that sexy, lustful look in his eyes, the look that always makes your skin burn. “You and I both know you don’t mean that.” he laughs, it pisses you off that actually he’s right. You turn to face him fully, you look into his brown eyes, and sigh in defeat. He knows exactly what to do to get you wet, all of your spots, where to touch and what to stay. Maybe it’s not that bad. One more time.

You tip your head down and grab the back of your neck staring at the dirty tile floors you stood on, “Go flip the sign.” you demand while walking into the backroom, you didn't see him but you heard him racing to flip the sign to ”closed” so you can both commit to your weekly “love-making” session. Your boss would be so pissed.

–

You sit down on the dingy couch that sat against the wall in the back room and wait for Steve to follow after you, flopping down right next to you, he immediately gets to the point and grabs your waist and sits you down on the growing bulge in his shorts and you straddle him, he grabs the back of your neck and smashes your lips against yours, you part your mouth so his tongue can dive inside, every inch of your skin was on fire and you needed Steve to cool you down. His swollen, wet lips left yours and met your jaw, trailing down to your neck, leaving kisses and little bites as he made his way to your collarbone.

You drag your throbbing sex across his bulge, you whimpering as you try to grind out the heat that built up inside you, and you feel your cotton covered pussy getting damper. Steve’s hips bucked up, rutted his clothed cock up against you, he left your neck to look up at your face twist up in pleasure, “Fuck, you’re so beautiful” he moaned out. You open your eyes and watch his chest go up and his head throw back into the cushion behind him, this was better than any porno you had ever seen.

You grab his warm hands, and slide them under your shirt, his fingers caressing your soft skin, tracing them over your lacy bra, “Can I…” he asked while stroking your hard nipples that were hidden by your bra, you take your bottom lip in between your teeth and nod. He grabs the hem and gently lifts your shirt off you and throws it to the other side of the couch, his lips part as he scans you, he does almost every time you fuck, but still end up getting bashful.

Steve grabs your waist and flips the two of you over, so that he’s on top, he sits on top of your hips, and reaches for the bottom of his shirt to tug it off, you sit up with your forearms to really take in the view. As much as he is a loser, he’s still so sexy. “What are you staring at?” he teases and tosses his shirt next to yours,“You, i guess,”you flirt. He lowers himself down, and hovers over you “Yea?” he asked seductively, you nod as he starts to kiss you chest, you shiver from the contact, he reaches behind your back and unclasps your bra, slowly peeling the garment off of your perky breasts.

His eyes darkened with lust, he grabs you right boob and starts kneading it softly dragging his thumb across your nipple and his hot, warm tongue licks a stripe across your left one, that move right there earned a sweet whimper from your lips, arching your back against him as he played with your chest. His pretty mouth sucking on your hardened nipples, circling his finger around them, “P-Please, Steve, oh fuck,” you almost scream out. He gives you the most smug look on face as he sits up from the work he was doing on your breasts, and hooks the elastic band of your shorts with his fingers and tugs them down.

He grabs your knees and spreads your legs open to get himself comfortable between them, so he can rub his fingers against the wetness that seeped through your white panties, his lips gap as he strokes your clit through your underwear, you’re about to cover your mouth with your shaking hand to muffle your moans, but he grabs your hand “Don’t cover your mouth, I wanna hear you,”

He slides your panties down your thighs and watches the wet patch peel off of your soaking wet cunt, his looks absolutely transfixed by your evident arousal. He grabs your panties and tucks them in his pocket as he uses his other hand to open your legs so he can get a nice view of your leaking pussy, you head falls back to the cushion, panting in preparation

He places his soft lips onto the skin of inner of your thighs, peppering kisses across your delicate skin, He licks his bottom lip and dives into you, licking a long, warm stripe against your pussy lips, your hips lift as you mewl out, but Steve pushes them back into the couch, lifting his finger to plays in the wetness seeping from your cunt, “That’s so hot..” he sighs out, circling his thumb around your swollen clit, and two of his fingers slowly in your hole, pumping them in and out.

You rasp out a little moan as he goes in for more and laps your sensitive pussy, you grab a handful of his beautiful hair and pull his head down, rocking against his face uncontrollably, that feeling in your stomach got bigger and your hips start to stutter, your legs are shaking, he whimpers against you from the pressure of your tugging his hair, that noise sent you over the edge, bucking his hips up into his face, whimpering out his name “Yes, yes, yes- Oh fuck-“ you scream out as your climax hits like a fucking tsunami.

You remove your hands from his hair and flop back onto the couch and sigh, panting from the biggest oragasm you've had in a while, Steve takes his fingers out of your pussy, sits up and looks at you in absolute awe, ”That was the most sexiest thing that’s ever happened to me” he says, his flushed red face is practically dripping from your arousal. You smile at him, then notice the rock hard bulge in his pants, that's begging for a release.

“Take off your shorts,” you say lazily, tapping his thigh, he nods vigorously, and takes off his blue sailor bottoms as fast a possible, add them to the pile of clothes at sat beside you guys, you almost drool at the sight of the outline of his big cock poking through his boxers. He got down and situated himself back in between your legs, hovering over you.

You reach out your hand to rub his raging hard on through the fabric of his boxers. Closing his eyes, he gasps softly as he bucks his hips into your fingers. You dip your hand into his boxers and grab his wet, hard dick, dragging your pointer finger across the slit of his leaking tip, he whimpers out a quiet “Fuck-“ as he ruts into your hand faster, gasping for air.

Pulling his dick fully out, and pumping your fist, gliding it up and with his sticky hot pre-cum, he’s biting his bottom lip, trying to hold back his pretty whimpers. He slides closer to you, settling his cock between your still wet pussy lips, you gasp from the contact, breath heavy and shaking, drowning in pleasure. You whine as Steve starts teasing your cunt, sliding his dick against you.

You grab his arms and pull him closer, your sweaty chests pressed up against each other, panting. He tucks his head into the nape of your neck and groans softly into your ear. You feel his fingers slowly pressing his cock in your pussy, as wet as you are, you still gasp at the feeling of his big dick stretching you out. You hear his breath hitch as he pushes himself deeper and deeper into your cunt, “Ah,” he gasps “You’re so- Fuck- tight” he sputters out, grabbing your hips and slowly starts rocking into you.

You lock your legs around his hips, as his pace starts to speed up, all you could hear in the room was skin slapping against each other, wet gushing noise, and loud moans pouring from your mouths. Steve sits up slightly and presses your hips down into the couch so he could get the angle to hit that spongy spot deep inside you, making you moan even louder.

Steves finger found your clit and began to rub circles around it, earning him a loud moan from your sweet lips, and you started to get that feeling twist up in your stomach, and you could tell he was about to come to by the way his thrusts get sloppy and sloppier, his pants and whimpers are louder, his hair is sticking to his forehead, as he shoves his hips against yours.

“Don’t stop, don’t stop- I’m almost there,” you gasp, lifting your hips to meet him, “Shit, me too,” he pants out, he pounds into harder, the couch is creaking underneath you. You back arched up into Steve as he fucks the living daylight out of you, rubbing your sensitive clit even harder, he starts to baffle out your name, little gasp and fucks, groaning into your neck. His hips start to stutter as you both cum, you start seeing stars and grasping on to each other.

Steve slowly fucks out the high, as you whine underneath him. He lies down on top of you, while you both come down from the insanely hot sex you had. You sigh and mutter our lazily “Ok, that was the last time.” Steve laughs into chest, “Yea, right.”

dividers: @bbyg4rlhelps % @hyuneskkami do not copy my work for anything without my permission.

[colemorrison]

ᴅᴀɴᴄɪɴɢ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛʜᴇ ᴀʀᴄᴀɴᴇ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀꜱ (GN Reader)

INCLUDES : Vander Viktor Silco Jayce Mel

Vander :

Dancing with Vander always changed the mood for the better, he was warm, it felt safe to be with him. He was much bigger than you, so he could guide your movements with ease, though he knew you sometimes liked to control when you both spun or which one of you bowed.

He didn't mind who did what as long as it was with you, sometimes the kids would dance around you two, making it harder to stay in one spot as they were clumsy and tended to bump into you more often than not.

"You little rascals are supposed to be sleeping."

You tried but the kids were smart, they knew how to pipe back to get their way.

"Not fair we have to sleep while you two laugh louder than anything else."

Vander smiled, twirling you into a dip before you both shared a small kiss.

"Ewwww"

Each one of them whined but couldn't help the laughter that escaped them.

Viktor :

It's hard for him to move as is but he enjoys trying, for you. He'd do anything if you asked, he's far from perfect but it's hard to be perfect in a world like this one. Topsiders being hated, under city folk being treated as if they were scum.

"Viktor, how bad is the pain today?"

You asked a pleading look in your eyes, you had something you wanted, and already he found himself wishing to lie to make you feel better, to give you what you wished.

"What is it you need love?"

"I want to dance, you can lean your weight on me. Put it all on me, I can handle it."

He chuckled softly, setting his cane aside, wrapping his arms around your shoulders, he could handle pain if it meant seeing that healing smile on your face.

Silco :

He was busy, work had to be done after all, he was running it all. But Silco knew better, today was important to you, it was the one day you both were.. More free than usual which means you deserve his attention, and he wanted to see your face flush at least once before work took over again.

"Darling."

Silco's voice was gentle, the deep gravelly tone was comforting, it reminded you of the countless nights he helped you calm from the nightmares and thoughts you wished never surfaced.

"Hm? I was thinking I could just sit in here while you work? I know you're busy."

You watched him walk over to you, slender fingers reaching out for your own to lace together. As you rose, his free arm wrapped around your waist a soft sway enveloping you both.

"I am free enough to be yours for a bit."

Jayce :

"We made good progress today I think I can sleep properly tonight."

He spoke as he closed the door, the sweet smell of caramel filling the room, it was one of his favourites. You tended to light the candle when he was gone for long periods of time, which was often.

"Babe?"

Jayce whispered in case you were asleep or working but the soft music and sweet scent led to your dancing body. Weaving through the air as if you were a bird who finally got their wings back. For a brief moment he watched but couldn't help himself so he came to dance next to you. His movements were much less graceful but the laughter you two shared fixed any wrongs in the moment.

"I missed you."

"I know."

Mel :

Fancy gatherings were not your thing, to put it lightly but Mel had begged you to go. Well she convinced you pretty easily actually, she had a tendency to be persuasive when she wanted.

"There you are dear. Chin up, we can dance together."

At first you both danced together, a waltz before you both got a little careless and danced around each other. Soft whispers were shared between you two, foolish confessions and claims of love spread around you both.

"Does this make up for the fact you're forced to be here my dear?"

"Seeing you happy makes it worth it."

[last-words-ofashootingstar]

what are all of mommy!hwa's rules for his baby? we know a couple for sure but i feel like he has wayyy more

➯a/n: wow i love that someone asked this because YES, yes he does. and he expects his baby to know them letter by letter, no excuses. i included drabbles for some of them because i literally physically cannot stop myself when it comes to this au

Mommy Hwa's Rules

(and the subsequent punishments for breaking them...)

❥Yandere Park Seonghwa x fem reader

Baby Series !

♡'･ᴗ･'♡genre: yandere, headcanon + drabble style

♫Baby Playlist♫

ಠ_ಠwarning/content: dude where do i even start — if you're reading this you probably know how fucked up mommy hwa is so just buckle up for the same messed up show honestly😭, captivity, extremely controlling behavior, physical and mental punishment (re: mind breaking), mental isolation, mentions of violence, spanking, force feeding medication, stockholm syndrome, non sexual nudity, mentions of past drugging, ptsd, insecurity, mommy hwa's mental instability

➯disclaimer: this is a work of fiction and does NOT represent a healthy little and caregiver relationship, or a healthy relationship of any kind.

🚫MINORS🚫

✧No eye contact with others. You didn't have this privilege for a long time — and then you did! And almost immediately lost it again when you looked to Mingi beggingly for help. It keeps you separated from the members. From the bribed staff. Eyes are the windows to the soul, and one look into yours makes it harder to ignore what's happening. It's better for everyone if you just keep your eyes to yourself. Besides, Seonghwa is the only one who should be looking into his Baby's soul. If you get caught, into the corner. If you can't keep your eyes where they belong, you don't get to look at anything. Usually it's only for an hour.

But once, it was for an entire week — only let up to eat and use the bathroom and sleep. You and Mingi got caught making eye contact while planning an escape. You're lucky you didn't end up like poor Mingi, bruised and battered. But still; you thought your knees would never be the same after kneeling for so long. Thank goodness for Choi San. He probably saved your ability to walk.

San caved on day two. You were still headstrong and taking your punishment like a damn champ — kneeling with your weight on your knees like Seonghwa forced you to —but he could see the way you were wobbling from time to time. How your hands were fidgeting at your sides, your brain desperate for any stimulation as you stared at the corner.

When Seonghwa stood up and went to fold some laundry, San all but dived off of the couch and fell next to you. "Here," he offered his cupped hands with a whisper, "take the pressure off your knees." You only blinked for a moment as you looked at his hands. Wondering if this was some kind of trick that Hwa had put him up to. "Please, I can't stand to watch you sit there one more second like this. Let me cushion you while he's gone."

Remember your manners. "Thank you, Sannie," you whisper back as you shakily lift your knees and let his hands slip between them and the hardwood.

✧Sleep in Mommy's arms. It doesn't matter if you thrash, if you kick or bite, if you sob so violently you shake the bed. He will simply just wait until you wear yourself out trying to fight out of his arms snake-like lock around your waist. He doesn't mind. As long as he gets to have you in his arms. He can't sleep any other way. He doesn't mind, sure, but it's still a relief when you stop your every night struggles and settle into a more peaceful routine.

✧Be quiet when there's a camera rolling, especially if it's live. By the time he started live streaming around you, he didn't need to put any repercussions in place. You were just happy that you didn't have to be stuck in the hall with the "meanie" bodyguard or manager. You got to stay in your safe little corner of his world and play; as long as you do so quietly. If you need something, you can just wave your hand and he will see it — because he's always got his peripherals on you.

✧Have a bath or shower everyday, but never on your own. After your first night, he said he'd let you do it alone — and he did. For two days. Then he had to bust in the door when you weren't responding; you were so tired and numb that you had the water scalding hot and nearly burning your skin and passed out from the mixture of exhaustion and sweating. No more private showers, Baby. You could have hit your head!

While Seonghwa is washing his face and doing his skincare at the sink in the morning, you're free to wash yourself up in the shower. He had set the temperature and checked it, and then checked again, making sure — double sure that it's appropriate. He always does. He's terrified that you'll pass out again from the heat even if he's right there. Even if you haven't since the first time. He can never be too careful when it comes to his precious Baby.

If you don't have one in the morning, if you just get cleaned up with him at the sink, you have one at night. Usually, he joins you. He's a tad bit less strict with the temperature because he's within reach to change it or catch you. If you want it a little bit hotter, especially in the winter — he lets it slide. He wants you to be happy and comfortable, after all.

Seonghwa loves to wash your hair. It's up there with rubbing your face after applying your skincare as his favorite things in the world. He buys shampoo and conditioner just for your hair type and he made sure that it's tear free; even though he's still very careful not to get any in your eyes. You actually come to appreciate and even enjoy it.

He's always taken a long time in the bathroom, and with you it's even longer to the point where San and Mingi have had to go to the others apartments to wash up. And while Seonghwa apologizes for the inconvenience, he says in the same exact breath that he has to make sure you're taken good care of — so... Sorry, not sorry. His Baby comes first.

✧No PG13 or above rated things. And nothing scary at all past dinner time, even if it's for kids. He doesn't want you to have nightmares! You already have enough of those as it is... He allows you to read the Goosebumps books that Jongho gifted you, as long as you clear your mind of the spooky stories before it's time for bed. If he catches you watching a scary movie, anything of the sort that isn't a cartoon, you'll be losing the privilege to watch things on your own for a good while.

✧Take your medicine. Birth control and vitamins, whatever else you take, everyday. If you don't want to, if you're afraid he's switched the pills — too bad. He'll shove them in your mouth and hold your nose closed until you have no choice but to swallow them if you want to keep breathing. He just wants to keep his Baby healthy!

✧Eat. Simple. Isn't it? But you're still sometimes afraid that Seonghwa will slip something into your food in the early days. He won't make you clear your plate; if you aren't that hungry he won't force you to get a bellyache by making you eat everything. But at least have some — at least have half, something! And on the other hand, you're always welcome to seconds or a snack before bed if you're still hungry. He just wants his Baby to be healthy and well-fed. You aren't leaving the table until you have at least some food.

"It's almost time for bed." You whisper from across the table, looking at the analog clock under the TV before he taps the table and brings your eyes back. "Sorry, Mommy..."

"It's okay, Baby. Are you tired?"

"Yeah..."

"Then eat. And we can get ready for bed," he leans back in his chair, crossing his arms as he looks between you and the now-cold plate. "I won't let you go to bed on an empty stomach."

You were so tired. So tired — and hungry. He hadn't drugged you since the first night, but sometimes when he cooked out of your sight you were still afraid that you'd wake up the next morning with heaviness of drugs in your muscles.

"Can-" You decide to finally cave as the sleepiness weighs your eyelids down, "can you heat it up, please?"

"Of course, Baby."

✧Someone has to be with you no matter where you go, and he has to know where that is. If you want to play with Big Bear, you're going to let him know. If you want to nap in Ming or Wooyoungie's bed, tell him before hand. And if at any point he doesn't know where you've gone to, you're getting spanked when he finds you. Then you aren't leaving his sight for a long time.

✧Use a sippy cup or a straw. While he says it's because he doesn't want you to accidentally spill something — it's really because he knows that it makes you feel little. And making you feel little helps him keep you in check.

✧If you address him, it's "Mommy." And if it's not that, don't say it. Seonghwa, Hwa, "Hey, Asshole! I'm talking to you" — the only thing he might let slip is "Hwaseong" or "Mars", because that means you're happy enough to call him by a cute nickname. Other than that, he's not going to respond to you. Cold shoulder until you come to your senses and call him what he is: "Mommy."

✧You shouldn't have lots of junk food. It's not good for you, it should be occasional. Especially candy, that should only be had when you've been good. If he catches you trying to sneak some, he'll probably just scold you for not asking for a snack instead of junk. But you, in your childlike state of mind, love junky snacks! And some of the members know that; so they sneak you some. Yunho and Yeosang, mostly. You can eat whatever you want while at their apartment and they won't tell him. Wooyoung is much braver. He likes to spoil you and he has no qualms doing it right infront of Seonghwa. He can't fight very well, but he will bite the man if he tries to stop him — and they both know it. Wooyoung helps you break this rule without getting you in trouble.

The knock on the bedroom door makes you look up quickly, your puzzle abandoned as Wooyoung peeks his head in. "Hey, Kiddo."

You're currently on lock down for accidentally forgetting to tell Seonghwa you were going to nap in Mingi's room. If Seonghwa doesn't go somewhere, neither do you. If he goes to another room, so do you. He has you essentially sewn at the hip. And he isn't leaving the room a lot on purpose, you all know it. He's scared to lose track of you again, and it's a form of punishment for forgetting something so monumental.

"Wooyoungie!"

"Catch!"

"Yay!" From his spot on the floor across from you, helping with the puzzle, Seonghwa looks up and immediately frowns. Wooyoung threw you a bag of chips, and then a very sugary drink to go with it.

"Wooyoung-" He goes to scold the man, only to be met with the biggest puppy dog eyes ever from you. He stops, knowing he's been defeated already. "I told you to stop spoiling her," he sighs as he opens the drink for you anyways.

You had been through this song and dance a good few times. Wooyoung would throw some junk or candy to you, say he got it just for you and how it shouldn't go to waste. And then you'd piggy-back, saying it would be rude for you not to eat the snacks; because Wooyoungie went out of his way for you.

You were taking up too many of the man's habits for Seonghwa's liking. "You're infecting my precious Baby with bad habits. This is the last time." It won't be the last time.

✧No news. The world is too scary for his Baby! And he doesn't want you reminded that there's an outside world to begin with... Little does he know, San tells you some headlines everyday. If he did know, both of you would be in for a very bad time.

✧Keep your promises. He does! So he expects it from you as well. "I promise I'll be good", "I promise I won't do it again", "I promise I won't try to run, I just wanna go outside". If you break a promise, don't expect him to take your words at face value again. He'll be paranoid (more so than usual), and he'll be stricter; just to see how well you actually mean what you say. If you promise that you'll fold all of your clothes, and you don't put your socks together — he'll take that as a broken promise and make you do it all over again.

✧Don't talk about before. AKA: don't mention life before you were "brought home". You got accustomed to this one very quickly, because Seonghwa gets mad when you mention something like how you miss your job or your friends. And Seonghwa is scary when he's mad.

✧No bad words. You don't need them to express yourself. Plus, you're so precious — he can't stand to hear your little voice saying naughty words. Curse words, yes, but also "hate." He, ironically, hates that word. Automatic ten spanks, then and there. It doesn't matter who's around or what the context was. His Baby shouldn't be saying such vile things.

"-no, you liked it? I hated that movie." Seonghwa's head whips around at the sound of your voice. Quiet and distant, but he heard it. Oh, he heard it.

Mingi's heart drops to his feet as Hwa stops talking to him and sets his focus on you. He didn't hear it, but he was sure whatever you said had to have been bad to make Seonghwa's Baby senses start tingling.

They are taking a break. Spread out across the dance room. You're sitting in your corner still, speaking with Yeosang. "I didn't think the princess was-"

"Baby?"

Now your heart drops. Searching for whatever it is you did wrong to make him upset. You don't even remember you said the cursed word, it came out so naturally. "M-mommy?"

"What did you say?"

"We're jus' talking about movies, M-"

"Get over here. And don't make me count."

✧Respect your things. Your toys, clothes, crayons, pacifiers, ect. If you want to throw a tantrum and throw, rip, or break things — expect them to be taken away for a while. "If you can't appreciate it, you lose it." The only exceptions are your comfort items, which he's promised never to take.

✧Good behavior gets rewarded. Just like an actual child, it's important that Seonghwa's Baby doesn't only get punished for bad behavior, but rewarded for good. How else will you learn? If you've been particularly docile, done something sweet unprompted, or just been a good girl in general; he will let you know how much he appreciates that. Extra TV time, a late bedtime, your pick from the little bucket of candy.

✧Don't talk bad about yourself. Even when you feel stupid or ugly or angry with yourself, there's healthier ways to deal with it than talking down to yourself. He's been there! And it breaks his heart more than it makes him angry — he isn't angry at all, actually! He's devastated that his beautiful, precious, Baby has those thoughts about herself. He's going to sit with you facing the mirror and list every single thing that he loves about you, inside and out until you crack a smile. Even if it takes hours. He can do it for hours if he has to, and he won't repeat a single thing. Every thing added to the list is something you've didn't hear yet that day. And even though it shouldn't, it makes you feel loved. It makes you feel better.

✧Remember your manners. It seems a simple enough rule. One you even had before you were his captive brought home. "Please", "thank you", always respond when someone's talking to you; especially if it's your Mommy. It's simple enough. But you had trouble with it in the early days because by Seonghwa's standards — saying "I love you" back is considered manners. If you break this rule, he's fair with you. Makes you write down all of your manners, including "I love you, Mommy" at least twenty times — at the very least. If you're a repeat offender, five spanks.

"C'mere, Baby," he pulls you from the floor where you were coloring, trying to forget all of your troubles. He settles you into his lap, tucking your head under his chin as he cradles you to his chest.

He doesn't say anything else for a while. He just holds you while the television fills the silence. But neither of you are listening.

He does this kind of often, actually. Just holds you quietly. Keeping you tucked away in his arms like keeping you tucked away from the world isn't enough. To him, it really isn't. He always needs more. More reassurance that you're his and his alone.

"I love you, Baby."

Remember your manners. Is the first thing you think. You know that you should say it back to save yourself the hassle. But you don't feel like it today. You're extra grumpy with him for whatever reason.

"Baby," he hums, pulling back to look at you, "I love you." He says again with his eyes narrowing ever so slightly.

Actually, on second thought, you don't feel like writing lines or getting spanks. "I love you, too, Mommy."

✧Don't try to run away. You don't want to know what will happen.

[alexanderlightweight]

Second ask but hi hello!! Good to see you doing stuff I hope your yard work goes well! Mayhaps some of snake!Alec or more a stolen heart? You’re most recent updates for both have sparked joy! Sfw/nsfw

it was a bit ago but the yard went well except 1) always wear a mask! even if its just 'i'll only be outside five minutes'. 2) I never remember which plants i'm allergic to until after I react lol

last part

i'm glad they sparked joy and I hope this does too!!! I hope you are doing well!

<3 lumine

a stolen heart

“I can’t tell you what I saw, it’s too confusing and disjointed. The shapes distort and the words are unclear.”

It’s been a slow two days of recovery and despite using every viable ritual and using every potion, balm, bath and tea that Magnus can think of, Alexander’s mind is still wounded. Even now, Alexander can barely piece together his memories of that day, let alone access the ritual and time he was gone.  It’s understandable that translating that into shareable information isn’t possible.

There are other avenues Magnus can take.  Paths he hasn’t yet discovered.

“I’d be okay if you tried to watch them, if you wanted. It might be easier that way.” Alexander says it so casually, as if he’s not offering Magnus an open door into his still healing mind.

“Darling, you’re hardly in the best shape for someone to be traipsing about your mind and memories.” Magnus wants to accept but to have Alexander regret it is too painful a thought.

“It’s not anyone, it’s you.” His boy says it so matter-of-factly that Magnus feels nearly slapped across the face with his blunt statement. “Also you’re not going to be traipsing around my mind like it’s the night market, Magnus. You’ve the precision of an adamas scalpel or a blade when it comes to mind magic and we both know it.”

Magnus is... quite frankly he’s both awed and delighted that someone knows him so well, trusts him so much and also acknowledges him so completely.  It’s sometimes more dangerous to let someone as skilled as Magnus into their mind than someone less skilled.

That’s not arrogance, it’s fact.

Magnus could do things, create things, steal things without anyone the wiser and Alexander knows that, it’s clear in his comparison of Magnus skills to elegance and both healing and weaponry.  

“Magnus,” Alexander murmurs and Magnus pauses to press a kiss to the side of his head. “If you put your Raziel damned stamp on my mind, it had better be unique compared to your other work. It better be more than just a signature, understand?”

Magnus pauses, shoulders stiffening to hide a guilty flinch.

“I would never—” he starts to say, more to himself than Alexander who is chuckling under Magnus’ palms.

“You would and you will. Don’t pretend otherwise.”

Magnus sighs and rolls his eyes skyward, “what’s the point of denial if you don’t even let me try!”

Magnus presses another kiss against Alexander's hair when his love does nothing but laugh softly in his embrace. 

“Fine, I’ll ensure it's something uniquely us.  Is Magnus Lightwood-Bane unique enough for you?”

However despite Magnus' attempt at further lightening the mood, his offer only causes Alexander to suddenly sulk at him and Magnus wonders what he’s missed.

“You weren’t planning on using Magnus Lightwood-Bane for your current and future signatures already? We’ve been married for months.”

Magnus suddenly feels like a mundane who snuck to the bar for a pint and accidentally left his wedding ring at home, creating a misunderstanding.

“No, that’s not what I mean—” Magnus starts because isn’t this how arguments always start on mundane television shows? Is this what his life has become, a mundane show? This is not at all how he’d envisioned any of this going and he hasn’t even seen Alexander’s memories yet.

Alexander coughs, the sniffle filled snort suddenly sounding rather suspiciously like wet laughter.

“Darling—” Magnus sighs and hopes for the best, “is this revenge for making you watch part of that drama? I know you’ve started to remember it.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Mr. Bane.”

Well, if that didn’t answer his question then Magnus didn’t know what would.

“Alexander, must you torment me right before I perform delicate mental magic on you?”

Alexander laughs at him, eyes bright despite the fact that Magnus knows he’s still in pain.

“You’re less worried now at least, aren’t you?”

Magnus is less worried. 

Mostly because he’s been reminded of the fact that his husband is a little shit.

And despite how much Magnus prefers protecting his boy, he’s also been reminded of the fact that Alexander is far from fragile.  No matter how much Magnus wishes to keep him from any and every harm.

“I’ll only be a moment,” Magnus whispers and then he lets the room go dark, for both of them.

Magnus sings as he walks through Alexander’s thoughts and memories, letting his voice and emotions reverberate through the space, his feet bare and his fingers tracing invisible walls.

Nothing harms him.

Every emotion sways under his touch.  Sadness turns to joy, joy to peace, peace to lust, lust to happiness, anger to hunger, rage to calm, pain to pleasure, the cycles continue and adjust and cycle through notes and chords of emotions.

The memories are harder, not to tame but to catch. They let him watch them with ease, but only once he’s touched one.

Magnus infuses his voice with yearning and echoes it in his magic until he’s led by shadows — because of course his shadowhunter’s mind is filled with them — to a corner.  The memories there are disconnected from the rest.  Alexander cannot process them due to damage and while healing the connections is possible but time consuming, Magnus can skip that process.

The memories play for him and rage unfolds as he watches the ritual that stole his husband. Magnus sees them harvest Alexander’s blood and watches as they pour a memory-cauterizing potion into Alexander’s mouth.

It was foolish of them to risk a potion that left the memories intact when Magnus is so competent in such magicks. Yet rarely would it be thought of, let alone suggested for him to enter someone else's mind. It would be considered a last resort in most cases, not the first thing Alexander thought of when confronted with a problem.

However, thanks to their hubris and Alexander's trust, Magnus has an idea of who he’s dealing with. And once he's sure, he’ll simply ensure they don’t live to regret it.

It’s with a flourish that Magnus does sign his name onto Alexander’s mind. He does so with a gorgeous script of Magnus Lightwood-Bane that sears into the landscape of Alexander’s thoughts and emotions.

Yet that doesn’t feel enough and his darling did say to make it unique.

With just a little more effort, Magnus stamps the rune of his demonic name and soul onto Alexander’s mind.  

When he opens his eyes, the room is still dark but for a few soft floating lights that his magic has lit. 

“Malphas,” Alexander mouths against his lips, a wordless whisper of contentment, hands stroke over his back and Magnus sighs in delight that his love is safe in his arms. "I think that's fairly unique."

Magnus laughs, his own constant worry fading just a little at the knowledge that he finally has a lead and well, how can he not be happy? Alexander is in his arms and he's been in his boy's mind, freely offered and with emotions that flourished and bloomed from his presence. The stamp of who Magnu is at his very core is on Alexander and his husband has nothing to offer him but joy and acceptance.

Despite how exhausted and tightly wound he still feels, Magnus also feels relaxed in a way he'd almost forgotten how to enjoy. The paranoia of Alexander's unknown enemy has faded now that Magnus has both faces and a few names. It's safe now to breathe and remember what home feels like.

[bullet-prooflove]

The Fixer: Harry Wilson x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @buckysteveloki-me @hagarsays @misskrose @pascal-rascal424

Summary: Harry returns to the place it all started in an attempt to reconnect wiith you.

Companion piece to:

Sugar - You're Harry's first stop when he makes it back to New Orleans.

Bourbon (NSFW) - The things you and Harry get up to with a 10k bottle of bourbon... it's sinful.

Court Days - Court days are your favourite days.

The Corkscrew - You realise Harry isn't the person you thought he is when you see him on a date with another man.

You are a force of nature.

A tempest of movement and motion as you hurdle across the pasture on the same sleek black racehorse that bucked you three years ago, giving you a head injury so severe you lost your hearing.

Your hair blazes behind you in the breeze, your knees pressed tight against horse’s flank as you bolt towards the gate of the paddock like it’s a finish line.

No hesitation, no fear, just sheer force of will.

It’s one of the things Harry loves the most about you.

You don’t think twice, you just live the way that you’re supposed to.

Wild, free.

You slow to a canter, your palm smoothing over Midnight’s neck as you trot slowly towards the fence where Harry’s standing. He keeps his mouth shut as you disembark, watching as you gather up the reins in your fist pulliing them taut before you walk towards him.

“I thought you’d have the sense to stay away from here.” You say gesturing to the sign representing the Riverland Horse Sanctuary you started over a decade ago.

It’s how the two of you met. Some nefarious individuals from the racing world trying to shut down your business because you were bad for theirs. Instead of letting injured horses go to the chop shop, you bought them and retrained the ones with the right temperament to be therapy animals for the equestrian centre you partner with. It had ruined some reputations out on the track because the owners had claimed their horses were irreparably injured, when the truth was they just didn’t want to pay surgery or rehabilitation costs.  

When threats, bribery and one very shoddy attempt at blackmail didn’t work, they’d stepped it up a notch which is where Harry’s team had come in.

As far as you’re concerned after a couple of meetings with Harry and Sophie, Harry had worked some legal angle investigating your claims. He’d handed over evidence to racing officials and local authorities about the fucked up shit that was going on behind the scenes and those assholes were arrested, leaving you to take care of your horses in peace.  

You had no idea what Breanna had gone undercover as a jockey to get proof on the bribes. That Eliot and Sophie stole their money by playing a Texas Ranch owner and  a Southern Belle. That Parker had broken into a dozen different places to steal records on the horse doping and bloodline fraud, ensuing that if they ever did get out of prison, they would never be welcome back in those circles again.

Harry has kept you well away from that part of his life because the secrets he keeps, they’re not just his secrets. He has four other people to consider as well as an entire network he’d be putting at risk if he discloses the reality of what he does. It’s the reason he couldn’t tell you why he was on that date, not until he’d spoken to the rest of them to make sure they were on board with his decision.

“Look.” Harry says, rubbing his palm over the nape of his neck. “Can we talk?”

“We’ve got nothing to talk about Harry.” You tell him as you stride towards the stables in order to remove Midnight’s tack. “You betrayed me in the worst possible way-”

“But what if I didn’t?” He asks, walking parallel along the fence, his expensive shoes sinking into the grass. “There was no kissing, no sex, handholding was only as far as it went-”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” You snap, turning your head towards him. “You went on a date with another person hours after we’d…” An angry flush creeps across your cheeks as you stop yourself from saying the words ‘made love’. “It doesn’t matter, I am clearly not enough for you-”

“That is not true.” He says fiercely, his eyes blazing as he meets your gaze. “That has never been true.”

“Then why were you having dinner with another man? Why were you holding his hand, acting like you wanted to take him home and fuck him in front of the fireplace?” You retaliate, your voice raising an octave. Beside you Midnight whinnies his disproval at your change in tone and you run your palm across his nose to sooth him.

“I…” He begins, searching for the right words and failing. “It was a con.”

“So you’re here because the man you took on a date catfished you?” You summarise incredulously. “And you think I’m going to what, feel sorry for you?”

“No…” He drawls out the word as the two of you come to a halt outside the stable, the literal end of the line. “I was the catfish, or the honeypot. I’m not sure if they both mean the same thing, there’s some semantics involved...”

You laugh and it’s a harsh, bitter sound that makes him flinch. You can’t help yourself because the audacity of this man, it astounds you. “So what? You’re a con man? Is that what you’re telling me?”

Harry clears his throat before placing his hands on his hips and meeting your eyes.

“It’s called a Fixer.” He tells you. “But basically yes, I’m a con man.”

Love Harry? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[moody-alcoholic]

These Violent Delights

Chapter 32 - Brighter Than The Sun

Summary: Poly 141 x fem!reader, a/b/o alternate universe 11.7k words. John should have read the last chapter so he knew what Hale and Graves were up to.

CW: a/b/o alternative universe, a/b/o dynamics, typical a/b/o universe tropes, PTSD, flashback, nightmares, night terrors, self harm (skin picking), alcohol, intoxication, vomit, hangover, death, blood, angst, hurt/comfort, implied rape/SA (via flashback), mentions of medication (sleeping pills & antidepressants), nudity, canon typical violence.

AN: I can't believe how close this story is to the end. 😭 Doing the outlines for the next few chapters has been hard.

Previous - masterlist - next

AO3

Enjoy <3

When you wake in the morning the laptop is gone and so is Kyle. You turn over in the bed and see Johnny with his eyes open and a smile on his face. 

“Morning, beautiful.” He says, it makes you blush and you shuffle closer to him. He wraps his arms around you pulling you against his chest. You look up and kiss him, he tastes sweet, his lips puffy and wet. His body is still warm from sleep, his hands run down to the small of your back pressing down. It makes you moan in his mouth and he breaks from the kiss.  

“How are you feeling?” He asks his hand comes up to brush your cheek. 

“Good.” You smile, you do feel good, better now the ache from your muscles has gone. You’re happy you got to see Simon and John, they’re safe-busy with work-but safe. 

“I thought if you were feeling up to it today we could go to the loch?” He says, you smile and nod.

“That sounds great.” You say nuzzling your face into his chest. He hums wrapping his arm around you holding you close to him. The fire in the room has died down there and one of the windows is open. You can feel a cool breeze but for once you welcome it. 

You close your eyes letting out a long breath listening to the sound of the birds outside and the steady thump of Johnny’s heart. His hand glides up and down your back, he presses on the bottom of your back pulling you closer to him. 

You look up and kiss him, pressing your tongue in his mouth, he hums and one of his hands works its way up to the back of your neck then he laces his fingers in your hair. You can’t help grinding your hips against him which makes him smile and he breaks from the kiss and looks down at you. 

The door to the room opens and you hear Kyle come in, you turn in the bed so you can see him. He walks over and reaches you pressing a kiss on your forehead. 

“C’mon. I made waffles.” Kyle says. You smile and get up following him down to the kitchen. Johnny and Kyle seem to be in good moods and it continues for the rest of the day. Kyle makes lunch while Johnny teaches you some drawing outside while the sun is up. You think it’s the only hot day you’ve ever experienced in Scotland, he teaches you how to draw trees and nature, basically what you can see in the garden and over the fields. 

He breaks out the watercolour paints after lunch and you try to draw the loch from memory but it doesn’t quite turn out as you imagined it. You like watching Johnny draw, he can do it so effortlessly he’s so sure of what he’s doing when he puts pencil to paper. He never stops talking too which you don’t mind, you soak up every bit of information he gives you about colours, line art, drawing faces. 

He shows you some of his work too, beautiful detailed drawings of mainly military things, each one with a story of why he drew it or where he was. He has plenty of drawings of Simon too, with and without the mask, some more realistic than others. After lunch you all walk down to the loch, Kyle brings a thermos and some blankets and you stay out there until the sun starts to set.

On the walk back Johnny teases you with stories of haunted woods and something called ‘the headless horseman’ which you’re pretty sure he definitely made up. It makes you laugh though and his stories are usually followed with a disapproving sigh or tut from Kyle. You don’t mind, there’s no such thing as ghosts anyway. 

By the time dinner is ready you’re already feeling exhausted. When you’ve finished eating you go for a bath and Kyle brings you a hot chocolate to drink. By the time the water has lost its temperature you’re almost falling asleep. You take the mug back downstairs and Johnny gives you your pills. He asks if there’s anything you want to pass on to John or Simon but your mind is drawing a blank, you yawn shaking your head. 

You say good night to him and Kyle before heading up to bed. As soon as you get comfy and turn the lights out you’re asleep.

You’re back in the the bunker. It had been a rough few days of tests and your body was sore. It didn’t matter to the professor though, when he wanted you, he wanted you there was no room to refuse. 

Piper came to get you with a dress in her arms. It was a nice dress, long and flowing but open at the top. You nod and get off your bed putting down the book you were reading and going over to your wardrobe. 

“No.” She says, it stops you in your tracks. “No underwear.” 

It makes you feel sick. You had a heat last month, it was horrible but at least it was only the professor with you and not his friends. You walk over to her in silence and she helps you change. She doesn’t say anything but you can smell her scent trying to calm you.

“What does he want?” You ask when you turn to look at her. Her hands land on your shoulders and she rubs up and down your arms.

“I don’t know.” She says. At least she's honest. You nod and follow her out of your room. The walk to the private lift feels like it’s over in seconds. She swipes her keycard to call it up and you swallow your nerves. She’s not projecting her scent anymore, if she does it too much you’ll go to the professor smelling like beta. 

When the lift opens she steps out of the way. You’re going alone, you smile up at her and walk in pressing the only other button that will take you down to his office and private rooms. She smiles at you as the doors close and you smile back. The journey takes mere seconds, the professor wanted to build the bunker deeper but when they dug down they hit black rock. 

It was deemed too expensive to dig through so the professor made them carve out just enough space for his office and personal quarters. The lift stops and the doors open, you step out letting out a breath and turning to look into his office. The outer walls are sharp, chiseled black stone. All the internal walls are glass, which means you can see streight into his office the moment you step off the lift, he looks up from his desk and smiles. 

You walk over to the door and knock, he hates it when you don’t knock. He nods and you enter the room. There is classical music playing, he puts whatever he was working on into the drawer on his desk then steps around with his arms outstretched coming towards you. 

He’s smiling as he lands his hands on your shoulders. He hums looking around you, for once you don’t feel as nervous. Maybe he just wants you to lay on his lap again, or maybe he just wants to talk. 

“What do you think of the dress?” He asks. 

“It’s lovely.” You say, he smiles and kisses you on your forehead. 

“Sit down.” He says gesturing at the leather sofa. You nod and he leaves you walking over to his drinks cabinet. 

“Doctor Montgomary said you had a successful heat. She managed to complete the test with no issues.” He says. You have no idea what he’s talking about, you barely remember your heat. You know they do tests but you’re not allowed to know what they’re about. At least this time it went well, he’s not always so happy about that.

You watch as he pours a glass for himself then comes over to sit next to you. He takes a sip, you can smell the alcohol already. You wish he would offer you a glass, maybe it would make things easier. You wait for him to settle, his hand rests on your thigh and he squeezes it letting out a long breath before resting back on the sofa. 

“Do you want to lay on my lap?” He asks. He’s never asked you before. You so badly want to say no. You think about it for a second before nodding your head. He smiles and you pull your legs up on the sofa before shifting and laying your head down. 

You don’t have a choice, you never have a choice, at least if you’re lucky this is all he’ll want to do tonight. He made you wear a nice dress with no underwear, so that's probably not the case. You relax, letting your scent fill the air. His hand doesn’t come down to your neck though. Instead he reaches over, putting his glass down and opening his box of cigars. 

“You know, Dr. Montgomary said if you have one more successful heat we might be able to finally figure out how to force a heat.” He says as he clips the cigar. 

“That's good.” You say, because that is what you’re expected to say. He hums, and you hear him light the cigar. A few seconds later he relaxes even further back into the sofa and you smell the sweet smoke in the air. You don’t mind that, anything is better than his alpha, besides laying on his lap- it’s not for you it’s for him. 

His hand comes down your head then eventually lands on the back of your neck. You lean your head forward as his thumb presses below the base of your skull. 

“I needed this.” He breathes. “I think you should stay here tonight. Go back in the morning.” You don’t reply, just keep still for him and swallow the lump in your throat and close your eyes. 

...

The next thing you know you’re in the shower, pressed up into the corner hugging your legs. The water hits you hot and hard, your body still shakes, you can feel the ache in between your legs. You hate nights like this when the professor just wants to have his way with you. At least he fell asleep quickly, after half a bottle of alcohol and another cigar while he fucked you from behind. 

At least that meant you didn’t have to look at his face, or in his eyes. You look up at the water letting it pound on your face, you take a deep breath in and close your eyes, it burns and stings but you let it. Suddenly water goes up your nose and down your throat. You try to move your head but you can’t. You open your eyes to see the professor with his hand around your neck. 

You can’t breathe, you fight him, kicking your legs and flailing your arms. Your lungs start to burn as more water enters your mouth as you try to call him to tell him to stop but nothing comes out. He looks angry, you must have made him mad. Maybe he’ll kill you, maybe he’ll give you that mercy. 

…

You wake with a gasp, your lungs burn, there are hands on you. You can hear voices but you can’t make out what they’re saying. You can’t breathe, you try to fight the people holding you but they’re stronger than you. You try to open your eyes but everything is blurry. 

“Christ, breathe, C’mon breathe, love.” That’s Johnny, he sounds panicked. You realise you're soaked, you cough, your throat and lungs burn throwing you into a coughing fit.

“That’s it, nice deep breaths.” That's Kyle, he’s hitting your back as you continue to cough and splutter, it’s hard to get a full breath in. A towel comes around your shoulders and your vision clears. You’re in the bathtub, the water is draining, you’re still in your pyjamas. You shiver gripping the bathtub to keep yourself steady.  

You can smell worry and fear in the air. You cough again, and Kyle pats your back helping you clear the last of your lungs. You take some deep breaths in looking up at Johnny, his worried look makes you feel horrible. On the next breath it finishes with a sob. 

“Bloody hell, we thought-” Kyle doesn’t finish his sentence his voice breaks suddenly his hand feels like a lead weight on your back. You have no idea what happened? You were in bed sleeping, now you’re in a bath soaking wet. 

“Let’s get you dry.” Johnny says standing up. He reaches down to help you up as Kyle pulls the towel tighter around you. You step out the bath, unsteady on your feet. They don’t say anything, just help you get out of your wet clothes and dry you. 

“What happened?” You finally ask when Kyle leaves the bathroom to get you fresh clothes. 

“You tell me.” Johnny says, you look up at him. The worried look has left his face at least. “Kyle was going to the bathroom. He found you in the bathtub under the water.” It makes you swallow hard, your throat is still raw, your lungs still feel like there's another litre of water in them. 

“I’m sorry.” You say looking down, his hand pulls your chin up to look at him. 

“No, not your fault.” He says, there's somthing harsher in his eyes now. “Don’t blame yourself, okay?” 

You nod feeling tears form in your eyes. He lets out a sigh, his gaze softens and he kisses you on the forehead. 

“C’mon, let's get back to bed, and maybe a cup of something warm.” You nod and follow him out the room back into the master bedroom. Kyle is still looking through the bags in the bedroom when you walk in wrapped in the towel and Johnny’s arms. He comes over to you running his hand over the top of your head. 

“I’ll boil the kettle.” Johnny says his arms are leaving you. “What do you want, cup of tea?” You nod and walk over to Kyle sitting on the bed. He sits next to you, the fire has been stoked and the room is warm again. Kyle’s arm comes around your back and you lean your head on his shoulder. 

“I’m sorry I scared you.” You say, his other hand comes to lay on your thigh. 

“It’s okay. You’re okay. That's all that matters.” You know he’s trying to sound reassuring but you can still feel it on him, his arm is tense around you, his scent is still filled with worry and fear. You reach down to his hand lacing your fingers with his. He stops you turning your hand over so your palm is facing up. 

His thumb brushes over the scars on your palms, it makes you shiver and you wrap your hand around his thumb. You don’t know what to say, you don't know what will help him. Instead you just project your scent for him. 

“I was dreaming about the professor.” 

“Shh, we don’t have to talk about it.” He says. Johnny comes back into the room with a cup and a glass of water. He places it on the bedside table and hands you the glass of water and some pills. 

“I usually only take one,” you say, recognizing them as the sleeping pills. 

“Piper said it was okay if you were having trouble sleeping.” He says. You nod and reach out, swallowing them down. Your stomach feels full for some reason, it's hard to swallow them down. When you hand the glass back to Johnny you get up and change into pyjamas before they help you get into bed. 

They both climb in with you although Johnny stays on the outside of the sheets and passes you the hot mug of tea. You sip it while Kyle wraps his arms around you and you lean up against him. They don’t say anything, just hold you and let their scent relax you. It’s nice, calming, it's just what you need but your mind starts to wander to the dream.

“I used to sit in the professor's shower. That's what I was dreaming about.” You leave out the first part of the dream, no need to upset them anymore. Johnny sighs and rubs your leg turning his body so he can look at you better. You sip your tea, using it to give you a second to breathe. 

“I don’t know how but suddenly he was there with me, he was choking me.” You say taking another sip. They don’t say anything, you’re not sure if they’re giving you time to talk or they don’t know what to say. Kyle holds you tighter like he’s worried you’d vanish.

“You’re safe here.” Johnny says rubbing your leg, you look up at him and nod. You don’t want to upset them more than you already have. You sip your tea in silence letting them hold you and run their hands over you. Eventually you start feeling sleepy and before you can stop yourself your body relaxes further against Kyle and your eyes start to droop closed. 

Johnny takes the half drunk mug from your hand as Kyle helps you lay down and get comfortable. Johnny goes to turn the bedside light off. 

“Leave it on.” You say yawning. He smiles leaning over to kiss you on your cheek. 

“You get some rest, Kyle will stay with you.” He says you nod and smile relaxing into his arms. He pulls you close against him and presses his nose into your neck. 

“I love you.” He says as Johnny leaves the room.

“I love you too.” You say closing your eyes and focusing on Kyle’s warm breath on your neck. 

...

Piper was just about to go to bed when she saw the call come through on her laptop. She rolled over on her stool to accept it. When she does she see’s Kyle leaned over the laptop with a worried luck on his face. It makes the hair stand up on the back of her neck. Something’s wrong. 

“We’re just waiting for John.” He says, something is definitely wrong.

“What happened?” She asks. “Is the omega okay?” 

“Sleeping.” Kyle says. She waits patiently for John to join the call, the seconds feel like minutes. When he joins Piper watches as his face turns to concern. 

“Piper.” He says he moves the laptop so Simon can see. Even under his mask Piper can see him frown. “What's going on?”

“She had a nightmare, a bad one.” Kyle says as he stands up. Johnny walks into view.

“Is she okay? Are you okay?” John asks.

“We’re all fine, she’s sleeping.” Kyle says. Piper swallows the lump in her throat.  

“What happened?” Simon asks.

“She went to bed early, Kyle went to take a piss found her in the bath.” Johnny pauses. “Under the water.” Piper feels her stomach drop-she feels sick. She clenches her jaw looking at John’s expression. Simon stands up so she can’t see his face anymore.

“Johnny gave her a double dose of her sleeping meds, she was pretty upset about the whole thing.” Kyle says. He’s nervous now, they both are when Johnny’s not adding to the conversation he's pacing with a radio in his hand. 

“Did she say what the dream was about?” Piper asks, her voice strangely level. 

“She was in Hales' shower, then suddenly he was choking her.” Kyle says. Piper swallows, her throat feels suddenly dry, she’s not sure what to say. 

“As soon as we pulled her out of the water she woke up.” 

“Someone should be with her now.” John says. Johnny stops pacing and holds up the radio.

“The other one is in her room.” He says. 

“Like a baby monitor.” Kyle says. It makes Piper smile, you’re safe with them even if your nightmares are getting worse. 

“Piper?” It takes her a second to realise John is calling her, she looks over at him and takes a breath. 

“I don’t think she was trying to hurt herself. Her body would have woken her up if it wasn’t getting oxygen or if water entered her lungs.” Piper says she's not sure how true that is, people die in house fires without waking up. She’s trying to be reassuring but it doesn’t seem to help the mood. 

“I can fly back tonight. Be back in the UK in a few hours, get an overnight train to Edinburgh, Johnny can pick me up, I'll be back in under 24 hours.” Simon says, John lets out a sigh pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“I can talk to her tomorrow. Act like I don’t know what happened let her open up about it.” She suggests.

“What about medication, is there anything we can do?” John asks, she sighs again. 

“Short term no. Anything like antidepressants can take months to work effectively. The sleeping pills should help, I would recommend upping them to 2 a night anyway if anything they should knock her out enough that she won’t get out of bed.” She explains. 

John sighs and sits back in the chair. Simon hasn’t moved but his arms are crossed now. “What about her talks with you?” John asks. 

“We haven’t had much time to talk because of her heat. Even then it’s going to be a long process. This level of PTSD and trauma could take months- years to heal.” She sighs. “I will keep trying though.” 

“We stick to the plan. We shouldn’t move if we don’t have to. If things get worse you know you can go to Piper.” John says. Sending you here would be a bad idea, she already made that clear to John. Putting you back underground could be way worse for you, but it is a secure MI6 facility no way Hale would be able to get to you. 

“We’ll keep a closer eye on her. Make sure she’s not alone, even when she’s sleeping.” Kyle says. John nods, leaning forward again. 

“You should get some rest, it's late over there. We can talk more tomorrow, after Piper has had a chat with her.” John says. Piper watches as they all say goodbye and John leaves the call. She’s not sure if she should go too. 

“Are you both okay?” She asks. Johnny stops looking at the laptop. 

“Yeah.” He says. She waits for Kyle to respond. 

“I thought-for a second-I was too late.” Kyle says, Johnny's hand comes to rest on his shoulder. 

“It’s okay. If you need to talk you know how to contact me.” She says. Kyle smiles as Johnny squeezes his shoulder. 

“Thank you. We’re more worried about her though.” Johnny says. 

“She’ll be okay. She’s stronger than you think. It’s not the first time something like this has happened.” She says. Kyle nods, and Johnny sighs.

“We’ll talk tomorrow.” Kyle says. She smiles as the call ends. She squeezes her eyes closed letting out a sigh. There’s no shower at Johnny’s house or you would have ended up there, instead you tried to drown yourself. Both alpha’s leaving was a worse idea then she thought. 

The next morning when you go down for breakfast the laptop is already open on the kitchen island. 

“Morning.” Johnny says looking up from whatever he’s cooking on the stove. He turns it off, coming over as you sit up on the stool. He wraps his arms around you, pressing a kiss in your neck.

“How do you feel?” He asks. 

“Okay.” you say, wrapping your arms around his. 

“Good,” he hums into your neck. “I thought if you were feeling up to it we could go out for dinner at the pub?” 

“Yeah, that sounds like a good idea.” You smile. You wouldn’t mind that, going out to the warm inviting pub. 

“Great.” He says before squeezing you one more time and going back over to the stove. You hear the kitchen door open behind you. Kyle comes over to you his hand rests on the top of your back. 

“Morning.” He says kissing the top of your head, You turn and smile at him as he sits next to you.

“Johnny said we could go to the pub today.” You say, Kyle reches over picking up a slice of toast. 

“Sounds like fun. We don’t have a car though.” Kyle says. 

“I’ll sort out a lift, worst case we have to get a taxi.” Johnny says. He passes you a mug and the jug of milk. 

“Maybe you should talk to Piper today, about last night.” Kyle suggests. You pause for a second then pour the milk into your tea. You don’t really want to talk about it, you would much rather just move on. You nod though, they are right and Piper would want you to talk if she knew what happened. 

Johnny makes you jam on toast without you even asking and you eat every bite. They keep the conversion light they talk about what Simon and John have been up to in America. It sounds like just a lot of sitting around and watching security feeds. They’ve been trying to track where Shadow Company have been going to but they seem to lose them over the state border. 

It’s only been 12 days, not even 2 weeks and it still feels like they’ve been gone forever. Your protective heat was weird, and Johnny and Kyle claimed you. You didn’t tell John or Simon last time you spoke to them.

“Do John and Simon know you claimed me?” You ask, suddenly interrupting their conversation. They look at each other, your hand goes to your shoulder. 

“No, we thought maybe you would want to do that.” Johnny smiles. You run your hand over the indents, you can feel them even through your clothes, you rest your hand where you can feel both of them at once. 

“I think we should tell him.” You say smiling and picking up another slice of toast. 

“How about before we go to the pub, it’ll be morning for them by then.” Kyle suggests. You nod letting your hand drop as his hand comes to stroke your thigh. 

… 

Later in the day Kyle sets the laptop up for you to talk to Piper. He kisses your forehead and leaves you alone to talk with her. You’re not sure if you want to talk about what happened but at least Piper might understand better. Your pack just gets mad, curses out the professor then vows to hunt him down and kill him. 

Piper knows what life was like in the bunker, what life was like with Hale. “Hey hun.” She smiles as her face pops up on the screen. 

“Hey,” you smile back leaning forward. 

“How are you feeling?” She asks. You don’t know what to say.

“I-” You choke on the words. “I don’t know.” 

She scrunches her eyebrows looking confused, worried. You’re not quite sure. Before you can stop yourself you start picking at the skin around your fingers. “Is everything okay?” 

“I had a nightmare last night.” You admit, you don’t know why it makes you feel guilty. You should feel guilty, you scared Johnny and Kyle. You could have died, you had no control over your actions. 

“I ended up in the bathtub. Johnny and Kyle found me and pulled me out.” You say, she looks sad, worried you're still not sure but she sits there letting you talk. 

“I dreamt about the professor, I was going to meet him for the evening. He bought me a nice dress and smoked one of his cigars.” You say, you always remember the smell of the cigars, it would linger on your clothes like his scent. So even when his scent faded you could still had a reminder. 

“Then the next thing I remember I was in the shower after we’d.” You stop, you don’t want to say it but you take a breath. “Then he was choking me. That's all I remember before I woke up.” 

She presses her lips together, taking her glasses off. You missed the fact that she’s started wearing them again. Maybe her eye got better or maybe she’s just so used to wearing them. Whatever it is you always forget to ask. 

“How do you feel?” She asks. It’s such a broad question you almost don’t know where to start. You feel guilty and sad that you worried Johnny and Kyle. You’re scared it’s going to happen again or worse you do something to hurt them. 

“I’m worried.” You say. “That it’s going to happen again. I don’t want to hurt Johnny or Kyle.” 

“I know.” She says her tone is low and calm. It’s almost like you can see her trying to project her scent to calm you. If she was here that’s what she would be doing. “It probably will happen again, you can’t control your subconscious unfortunately. Even by talking with me it will take time before you start to heal. Then things will be easier to control.” 

You nod like you understand what she’s saying. “Do you think things will change when the professor is dead?” You ask. 

“I think when he’s dead you will finally be able to breathe. He’ll be gone and you can focus on yourself and your pack. Even now while he’s still alive he has no control over you. You’re safe, safer than you will ever be.” She moves closer to the camera leaning forward lacing her hands together. 

“You have people around you who love you, who will go to the ends of the Earth for you-me included. You have a strong pack to support and protect you. Hale abused you, he hurt you so much.” She stops lowering her head and letting out a sigh. 

“I remember when he would make you wear the dresses. They all belonged to his wife.” She says. The admission makes the hair stand up on the back of your neck. You feel sick, why is she telling you this now? 

“He never loved you, he loved his wife and his daughter. He loved to abuse you, he wanted to break you down to be this version of an omega he wanted. Someone submissive, vulnerable and weak.” Piper smiles looking back up at the camera. 

“You are so much more than what he wanted you to be. You’re worth so much more. I know it’s hard, I know you’re missing your alphas and the thought of Hale being out there is not helping.” You nod, feeling tears escape down your face. You don’t know why you’re upset, you don’t feel upset. You feel a warmth bloom inside you at her words. 

“You’re so much stronger than you give yourself credit for. You survived, and now you have people who love you to take care of you. You’re never going to be alone again, you’re never going to see Hale again. And so help me God he’ll never be able to hurt you again.” She smiles and you smile back nodding and wiping the tears off your face. 

“I wish I could hug you.” You say sniffling. She smiles leaning back slightly. 

“Me too.” She smiles. You nod and look up at the closed door Kyle went through. You don’t know if they listen to your conversations with Piper they would be able to hear them with the enhanced hearing. 

“Kyle.” You call, he opens the door in an instant. You smile at him, he looks confused coming over to you. 

“Everything okay?” He asks sitting down next to you. You nod and throw your arms around him burying your face into his neck. 

“I love you Kyle.” You say, he squeezes you tight, running his hand up your back.

“I love you too.” He replies. You can smell his scent filling the room, it’s calming and comforting. You let him hold you, letting yourself relax against him. “You’re okay, love. We’ll always be here for you. Forever.” You close your eyes squeezing the last of the tears out when you hear Johnny come into the room. 

You break from the hug looking at the laptop. Piper is gone, you see she sent a message but you don’t get time to read it before Johnny puts the laptop lid down. He steps around the coffee table sitting down on it infront of you. 

He reaches over cupping your face with one of his hands and brushing the last few tears away. You smile at him and you feel Kyle’s arms come around you. 

“We’re always going to be here. Through thick and thin, no matter what we’ll never leave your side.” Johnny says. You feel like you’re going to cry again, but not because you’re sad, you can’t stop smiling at him and he leans in to kiss you. Kyle's hand runs up your back and his fingers land on his mark. 

It’s like there's electricity running through your body as you sink into Johnny’s kiss, his warm tongue drags over yours. You sigh, letting him hold your face as Kyle presses a kiss into your neck. When he breaks from the kiss he doesn’t drop his hands. His eyes and lips twinkle in the light. 

He has blue eyes like John but they’re lighter, beautiful and almost translucent. 

“I love you.” You say. He quickly kisses you again. 

“I know, I love you too.”

…

You decide not to call John. You just want to spend the rest of the day with Johnny and Kyle. They never leave your side. You lay in their arms on the sofa watching whatever is on the telly until the sun starts to set. That's when Johnny leaves to call someone for a lift to the pub. 

You would have been okay just staying in but at the mention of the pub food your stomach starts rumbling. Besides you like the pub, it’s nice and you would like to get out of the house. You go change with Kyle, it’s been nice seeing them dressed in something other than military gear, or green shirts and camo pants. 

Johnny comes into the room pushing his phone back in his pocket and reaching over his head to pull his top off.  

“What you got in here?” Johnny asks fishing into Kyle's bag. 

“Stop nicking my shit. I swear I leave every deployment with half my bag in yours.” Kyle says, pulling him out the way. You smile sitting down on the bed to braid your hair. 

“Besides this is your place, don’t you have wardrobes of clothes here.” Kyle asks, shrugging a jacket on. 

“I think my old prom suit is in here somewhere.” He says going over to the massive dresser in the room. 

“Now that would be something. Who did you go with?” Kyle asks. 

“This girl called Susan, she had a crush on me.” He says, you turn looking at you and wiking while he buttons his shirt up. “What about you Gaz?” 

“Chantelle.” He says. 

“What’s a prom?” You ask for tying the bottom of your braid off. 

“It’s like a big party you have at the end of secondary school.” Kyle explains. You sigh, another thing you never got to experience, his hand comes to pick up your braid running his hand down it and stopping on your cheek. 

You smile up at him, then you hear a car horn blair. It makes you jump and you turn to look over at Johnny looking out the window waving. 

“That's Archie.” Johnny says, you stand up picking up your jacket and accepting Kyle's hand before you both follow Johnny out the house. You recognise the man, he’s the owner of the pub. He greeted you last time you were there. His beard is busher now, he smiles as he hugs Johnny and he reintroduces you all. 

“Where are the others?” He asks, shaking Kyles hand. 

“Somewhere nice I hope. Got called out to a job.” Johnny explains. Archie smiles and turns to open the driver's side door. You get in the back with Kyle shuffling up to the middle seat to sit next to him. Johnny gets in the front with Archie reaching over to fiddle with the radio.  

“Christ.” Kyle whispers as the sound of bagpipes starts to fill the car as Archie starts to drive. 

“What about you, lass? You army too?” Archie asks you after a few minutes of driving. You don’t know what to say instead looking over at Kyle with your mouth hanging open. 

“Aye, she’s the most important part of our team. Can’t tell you what she does though, otherwise I'd have to kill ya.” Johnny says, that throws Archie into a laughing fit as he pats the sterling wheel. 

“You SAS lot and your secrets. Did I ever tell you ‘bout me dad’s tour-” 

“Back in 44’. Yeah.” Johnny says finishing his sentence for him. 

“Lied about his age, he was only 17. Mind you back then the country were beggin’ for soldiers, next thing he knows he’s being shipped off to Normandy. D-Day!” He explains excitedly. 

“Got shot in the arse didn’t he?” Johnny asks. 

“Aye, shrapnel mind you, but he survived, fought on the front lines, married a Scottish army nurse and the rest is history.” He turns and smiles at you.

“What about you? Family in the army?” You’re surprised he’s still talking to you. You shake your head. 

“Yeah, well I tried but busted me knee up in a rugby match. Army wouldn’t accept me so I opened a pub instead.” He says. 

“And we’re so glad you did.” Johnny says, slapping him on the shoulder. 

“Aye, well someones gotta keep your bellies warm.” He says laughing again. You smile looking over at Kyle who reaches out for your hand, you take it and squeeze it leaning against him. The rest of the drive you don’t pay attention to Archie and Johnny’s conversation. They laugh every now and then, their accents are so thick sometimes you can’t understand them. 

When you make it to the pub he parks the car in a spot around the back. Kyle’s arm is around your waist pulling you closer to him as you walk around to the main entrance. The place looks and smells like you remember, the warm glow spills out into the streets and you can already hear the music playing. 

There are a few people standing around with drinks in their hands and cigarettes between their fingers, talking and laughing. The whole place feels warm and inviting. You just wish Simon and John were here too. Johnny catches up with you as you walk through the door, he greets the bartender and you and Kyle go find a table. 

You end up in the same one as last time, the booth nestled into the back corner of the pub. You shuffle in between Kyle and Johnny as the bartender comes over with menus. 

“What do you fancy tonight then?” Johnny asks the table as the menus are passed around. You look through the options, there’s so much stuff, some of it you don’t even know what it is. 

“What's haggis?” You ask reading the last thing on the menu. 

“Food of the Gods, love.” Johnny says nudging you. Kyle scoffs. 

“It’s not good. Maybe fish and chips.” Kyle says pointing at the menu. You smile at him and nod as drinks are brought to the table. 

“Yeah, that sounds nice.” You smile. Kyle smiles too, putting his menu down and pulling the drink towards him. 

“Cheers.” He says you nod picking up yours and you clink the glass together. 

“Do you do that everytime?” You ask after taking a sip. 

“No, usually just the first time. Or when you feel like it.” He says shuffling closer to you and resting his free hand on your thigh. A second later Johnny slides in next to you throwing his arm over your shoulder and reaching over to run his hand up the back of Kyle's neck. 

This corner of the pub is cosy the lighting is just low enough to give you some privacy but not enough that you can't see anything. You can smell the food from the kitchen and the old musty smell of the building that must be at least 100 years old with its high ceilings and stained glass windows. 

“It’s a shame John and Simon aren't here.” You say reaching out for your drink. 

“Yeah, but we’ll come back. When they’re back from America, they’ll need a proper home cooked meal after all the MRE’s they’ll be surviving on.” Johnny says and he and Kyle laugh. 

“What’s that? MRE?” 

“It’s like food in a bag, you add water and it heats up.” Kyle says. 

“They’re usually pretty shite.” Johnny adds, you scowl that doesn’t sound nice. You watch the bartender pulling more drinks, smiling and talking to the people coming in. He seems friendly, so does Archie, everyone you’ve met since you’ve been here has been nice. You take another sip of your drink relaxing back into the booth between them 

You try not to focus on the fact Simon and John aren’t here and focus on what you do have. You look up at Kyle and he smiles at you, you smile back looking at Johnny’s hand resting on the base of his skull. 

“Oo, love. You should try a shot.” Johnny suddenly says excitedly. He’s already shuffling his way out the booth as you frown at him.

“Johnny.” Kyle says, there’s an edge to his voice, almost like a warning. 

“Just one Gaz, c’mon.” Johnny’s smiling with his hands pressed together. “I’ll let you pick the alcohol.” 

Kyle sighs. “Fine, no tequila.” He says, you turn to look at him still frowning. 

“What’s a shot?” 

“It’s a small drink of alcohol. But it’s a lot stronger than just beer.” he says. You’re still a little confused until you see Johnny coming back with 3 tiny glasses in his hand. He puts one down in front of you and Kyle before scooting back in the booth. 

“Vodka.” He says picking his up, it’s just a clear liquid. It makes your stomach turn for a second, it reminds you of the clear liquid Dr. Miller made you drink. The one that made you pass out. 

“You don’t have to do it.” Kyle says, picking his up. You push the thought of Dr. Miller away, he’s dead now and Johnny and Kyle would never do anything to hurt you. You reach over picking yours up. 

“Slainte!” Johnny calls before downing his shot, Kyle sighs, taking his and you follow them. The moment it hits your tongue you regret it. It tastes horrible, it feels like its burning your mouth and throat. You cough putting the glass down on the table. Kyle pushes your beer towards you.

“Drink that, it’ll help.” He says also reaching over for his. You nod drinking down big gulps of beer to get the horrible taste out your mouth. 

“People do that for fun?” You ask, your face still scrunched together. Johnny pats your back.

“That’ll put hairs on your chest.” He seems fine compared to you and Kyle. 

“People do that to get drunk.” Kyle says. Sipping on his beer, you feel your body warm up, your head swims a little. You take another sip, it feels like you can still taste it. A few minutes later the food comes out. You and Kyle got the same but Johnny got the haggis. You can’t make out what it’s supposed to be, it almost looks like it’s in a bag but when he cuts into it it looks like cooked mincemeat. 

“Wanna try?” Johnny asks. You nod and he scoops up a little, putting it on your plate. You pick it up, they’re both watching you as you eat it. It’s weird you don’t even know how to place it. It’s not horrible but it definitely doesn’t taste like minced beef. 

“It’s okay.” You say shrugging. “I think I prefer the fish though.” 

“It’ll grow on you.” Johnny says nudging you. You smile and continue to eat your fish. When your glasses are all emptied the bartender comes over to replace them. You like the beer here better than the stuff Johnny has in the fridge. It’s always ice cold and tates more light and refreshing. 

When the plates are cleared Johnny gushes about how great the food is. You and Kyle agree as Archie comes over and offers Johnny a cigarette. 

“Cheers, mate.” He says accepting it. Archie puts one between his lips before offering the packet to you and Kyle, you both refuse. 

“So how long you back for this time?” Archie asks. 

“Couple of weeks, we’ll see.” Johnny says, shuffling out the booth and shrugging his coat on. He puts the cigarette in his mouth and pats Archie on the back. 

“Back in a bit.” He says to you, winking before leaving out of your view. You turn and look up at Kyle who smiles. You like this place, the atmosphere is lovely, the food and drink is good. You actually feel like you belong here, like people don’t look at you like something they’re trying to figure out. 

“I like it here.” You say picking up your beer and taking a big swig. You like the way the alcohol makes you feel, dulling your senses and clearing your mind.

“Yeah. I like it here too.” Kyle says rubbing your arm.

“What would you do if you weren't in the military?” You ask. 

“I’m not sure.” He replies. “I’m good with computers, maybe I would end up doing computer science or something with communication. I’d probably have a 9-5 in London, working every other weekend. Climb the corporate ladder, maybe become a CTO or a CIO. Marry a pretty girl, have plenty of kids.” he reaches for his beer taking a long sip. 

“I’d want to make sure my family is taken care of. That's my main goal with this job, knowing my mum and my aunts never have to struggle. And I get to make the world just a little bit safer for them.” He says, you can hear the sadness in his voice. You sit up so you can look at him. 

“You said you had a big family. Do you miss them?” 

“I do, it gets easier. They knew the sacrifices I would have to make. I think as long as they know I'm safe. They’re not worried.” He smiles. You smile back, reaching out for his free hand and lacing your fingers with his. 

“Do you think…maybe one day I could meet them?” You feel silly asking the question now, you can feel heat rushing to your cheeks. He chuckles and brings his hand up pulling your chin to look at him. 

“Yeah, one day when this is all over.” He smiles and leans in to kiss you. You melt into it, letting your hands run up his top as you both sink deeper into the corner of the booth. You can taste the alcohol on his tongue as his hands grip your waist pulling you against him. 

“Easy you two.” You hear Johnny’s voice breaking from the kiss and looking at him with more small glasses in his hands. 

“You said only one.” Kyle reminds him. 

“Chill, this one's on the house. Archie said he’s ready to take us home whenever. No rush though.” He says as he puts the glasses down on the table. You smile at him and he leans over to press a kiss on your lips. He pushes the shot over to you and you pick it up. 

The second shot goes down easier and makes your head spin even more, you still have to chase it with beer and you finish off your glass. Kyle takes the empties and goes up to the bar. You feel happy though and move to lay up against Johnny. 

“What would you do if you weren't in the army?” You ask Johnny. “Kyle’s going to become a CEO or something.” 

“CEO?” Johnny chuckles. 

“I said CTO but yeah, I'll be on the corporate grind.” He says sitting down and taking his shot. Johnny hums wrapping his arm around your chest. 

“Maybe a teacher. Something creative like art, or woodwork.” He says. 

“What about your family?” You ask. Kyle smiles as he scoots closer to you, his hand landing on your thigh. 

“Yeah, spend more time with my sisters and my mum.” He says.

“Do you miss them too?” 

“Yeah, but I knew it was going to be hard. You spend a lot of time away from your family. It makes all the time you do spend with them so special.” he says. You nod, it makes you miss Piper. She’s the closest thing you have to a mother. You think about the conversation with her today. 

You know she will always be there through thick and thin but now you have a pack. You don’t need her as much any more. Well, not until she has a cure, then when there’s no more pack maybe things will change. You let out a sigh sitting up as another drink is brought to the table. Johnny rubs your back and you reach out to take a drink. 

“How do you feel?” Kyle asks, you look over at him and smile. 

“I feel good. Weird, but good.” He smiles, reaching up to stroke your cheek and looking over at Johnny. 

“I’ll take a piss.” Johnny says, shuffling out the booth.

“We’ll go after this drink.” Kyle says.

“We don’t have to.” You say, Kyle smiles, his hand runs down your neck and arm.

“It’s okay, it’s late anyway.” You nod, looking back up at the bar. There seems to be more people inside now, you wonder what time this place closes. Or maybe it never closes, it has that vibe of some place that would just be open forever. You’ve read about taven’s in magical worlds; it reminds you of that. 

When Johnny comes back he can’t keep his hands off you, he’s in a good mood and so is Kyle. He keeps stroking your thigh or your arm as you sip on your beer. When you’re all finished Archie comes over and asks if you’re ready. Johnny nods and scoots out the booth offering you a hand. You reach out to take it, your body feels heavy as you move out the booth. 

When you stand up your legs feel wobbly and you sway against Johnny who wraps his arms around you chuckling. When you leave the warmth of the pub the cold air stings your face, there is no one outside smoking now. Johnny holds you close to him as you stumble down the street. It feels like you’ve just woken up from a long heat. 

You climb into the back of the car with Kyle laying up against him. You hum breathing in his scent and close your eyes. You don’t mean to fall asleep but, the gentle movements of the car and the suddenly relaxing bagpipe music lulls you to sleep in Kyle’s arms.

You wake in the morning feeling sick. Your head is swimming and there’s a pit in your stomach. You groan as you turn in the bed, it’s hot and there’s a thin layer of sweat pooling all over your skin. The only time you’ve ever felt like this is when you had the flu. Or that one time Piper and Hale were testing all those concoctions you had to drink. That was a month or so of hell.

This is different though, your belly feels full and each movement makes it swim. You’re not sure what to do, you turn over in the bed and see a glass of water on the bedside table, Johnny has fallen asleep in the chaise longue, his head tipped back snoring softly. 

When you move to pick up the water Johnny wakes, stretching and turning to look at you. He smiles and gets up, coming over to the bed. 

“Hey, lass. How do you feel?” He asks as he sits down on the bed. You gulp half the glass of water down but it doesn’t seem to help, it just upsets your stomach more. 

“I feel sick.” you say. “And my head hurts.” Johnny chuckles and opens the bedside table drawer, he pulls out a white box of pills. 

“These’ll help. I guess this is your first hangover too?” He smiles, taking something out the box and popping out 2 pills. You reach over to take them but your stomach turns again. You freeze feeling something bubble up your body. 

You’re going to be sick. Johnny sees it on your reaching over and producing a bucket for you to empty your stomach in. Everything stings on the way back up, your body throbs and shakes. When you’re done Johnny hands you back your water and you swill your mouth out spitting in the bucket. 

“How long will this last?” You say. Johnny chuckles, taking the bucket away. 

“Couple of hours. Take the pills and go back to sleep. You’ll feel better later.” He says rubbing your leg before getting up. You do as he says as well as gulping down more water. 

“I’ll clean the bucket and bring it back just in case you need it again.” You nod watching him leave and lay back in the bed. You close your eyes breathing in the cool air flowing into the room. 

…

The next time you wake it’s afternoon. The room is cool, the fire has died down to embers, you feel better and you swing your legs out of bed. You see Simon's top on the floor, the one covered in the scent of alpha. Your top smells of vomit, you pull it off then pull on Simon’s top.  

You head out the room and down the stairs, you go into the living room first and see Kyle laid out on the sofa. He sits up when he sees you muting the TV. 

“Hey, how’re you feeling?” He asks as you make your way over to sit next to him.

“Okay, hungry.” You say, your stomach is definitely empty now. 

“Johnny’s cooking bangers and mash, something nice and filling for us all.” He says. You don’t know what bangers are but you don’t care you’ll eat anything right now. 

“Do you want to talk to John and Simon about the marks?” Kyle asks. 

“Yeah. They should know.” You say. Kyle smiles, kissing you on your forehead before reaching over for the laptop. You’ve watched him set up calls many times now but for some reason this time you’re strangely nervous. What if John and Simon get jealous. They don’t seem like the jealous type but you’re their omega, and from what you know alpha’s are not usually good at sharing. 

When the call connects you see Simon at the laptop this time. He’s not wearing his mask but he still has the black paint around his eyes. It’s better than nothing, at least now you can see him smile. John appears behind him a few seconds later. 

“Hey, how’s things over there?” He asks. 

“Good, we went out to the pub yesterday. I think we drank a little too much.” Kyle says. You nod remembering the horrible way you felt this morning. 

“Thought you were being careful.” Simon says, sighing. 

“Yeah well I left Johnny with the card. Won’t happen again.” Kyle says, John is smiling but he crosses his arms and nods. Kyle looks at you, he wants you to talk. You nod, you shouldn’t be so nervous. 

You reach down, gripping the hem of Simon’s top and pulling it off over your head. “In my last heat, Johnny and Kyle claimed me.” You say angling your shoulder closer to the laptop so they can see. You see John frowning and bending down to look closer. 

“That’s Johnny’s.” You say sitting back up. Kyle reaches over picking up the laptop so he can move it behind you to show his mark. Your hand reaches over so you can feel Kyle’s mark. It makes something warm bloom inside you. You’ve been marked by all of them. 

“That’s Kyle’s.” You say as Kyle leans over to put the laptop down. You wait for them to talk, reaching down to pick up your top. 

“Ky-” Johnny stops in his tracks a smile creeps onto his face as he looks at you topless. “Video sex?” He winks at you with a spoon in his mouth. Kyle rolls his eyes.

“Keep it in your pants Johnny.” Simon calls tutting. You blush reaching over to pull the shirt back on. 

“Shame, Si usually sends me something to keep me busy. He’s being a right tease.” Johnny calls back, winking again before heading back into the kitchen. You smile looking back down at the laptop to see Simon’s cheeks flushed pink. 

“What did Piper say about the marks?” John asks. 

“She said it’s because we’re part of a pack. It’s not a problem is it?” You ask suddenly worried you’ve done something wrong. 

“Of course not. I think it’s good, we’re all a pack right?” You nod. “It feels complete now.” 

“It feels whole.” Simon smiles. You nod, it does, in a strange way it feels whole. You bring your hand up to feel their marks again. It just makes you miss John and Simon though, you sigh and Kyles pulls you closer to him, kissing the top of your head. 

“You look like you could use a rest.” Simon says. 

“I’ve been asleep most of the day.” You say, even though you yawn as you say it. Kyle chuckles. 

“She was hungover.”

“It was horrible.” you say. John chuckles, patting Simon on the shoulder before walking away. 

“Get a good night's sleep, we’ll talk tomorrow.” Simon says. You nod smiling as the call ends, you turn to look up at Kyle. He smiles and you reach up to kiss him. 

“Let’s go help Johnny before he burns the place down.” Kyle says smiling.  

Johnny wakes first. He knows this house like the back of his hand. He knows what noises are just the wood settling and which noises are not. He looks over you at Kyle, your back is pressed against him. You’re fast asleep, your breathing steady and slow. 

He slowly reaches over pushing Kyle’s shoulder. He doesn’t wake, just mumbles reaching around your waist to pull you closer to him. Johnny tuts and slowly gets out the bed listening carefully for more noises around the house. 

The heightened hearing that comes with this formula has definitely been a Godsend. He reaches under the bottom of the bed and pulls out a pistol and a mag. He loads the weapon, this time making noise and watching to see if you move. You don’t, the double dose of sleeping pills should keep you asleep until this is over.

Johnny goes over to Kyle and shakes him awake. Kyle mumbles, turning and opening his eyes. As soon as he sees the weapon in Johnny's hand he’s wide awake. 

“At least 2 downstairs.” Johnny says, Kyle looks over at you, Johnny offers him the pistol and he takes it slipping out the bed. Johnny moves over to pick up another weapon from another spot as well as some more mags. He passes some to Kyle as he moves over to the door, he presses down on the handle slowly opening it a crack. 

He flares his nostrils, his ears prick up. His head snaps to look at Kyle when the scent of beta hits his nose. 

“Shit.” Kyle whispers as loud as he dare. Johnny looks over his shoulder at you in the bed, you haven’t moved but they need to leave and close the door so the new scent won’t wake you. They both move out, closing and locking the door, Johnny stashes the key in his pocket before clicking safely off his gun. 

Kyle moves to the top of the stairs keeping to the shadows looking down and craning his head. They both wait in silence, there’s the sound of a door closing. From what Johnny can hear it’s the kitchen door that leads into the hall. They’re right below them. 

They could let them come up the stairs, ambush them. It’s risky though, Johnny’s sure he can only smell 2 people but there could be more. They will be geared too, he knows Kyle hears the click of a weapon. They keep low, only moving when they need to, Johnny steps over to Kyle who puts his hand up to stop him. 

Johnny nods, taking a step back. He’s surprisingly calm, considering there are 2 intruders in his house. He thinks about the locations of stashed weapons, they’re not obvious but he really doesn’t need them arming themselves more than they already have. 

Another click of a weapon pulls his attention to the stairs. Kyle cranes his neck again, Johnny can see the glint in his eyes as he follows the intruder's footsteps. He looks back over at Johnny holding up 2 fingers then pointing to the living room. Johnny hears the door open and nods. 

This is the best time to get them, they can sneak up behind them, maybe they’ll loop round into the kitchen, then they can take them out on the tiles instead of the wood floors. Easier cleanup. 

Johnny moves to go down the steps first, he knows which ones creek. Kyle pats him on the back to let him know he’s following. The house is dark, they could have night vision, but if they’re betas they won’t need it. Johnny can see just as well as if he was using NOD’s. They also have the advantage too, they know this house. 

The living room door is still cracked open, he hears a whisper before they start moving again. They are heading towards the kitchen. Johnny pushes the door open slowly peeking in, they’re by the book case, he sees them for a second before they vanish completely around the corner. He walks in with Kyle following close behind him, they both stop at the corner of the room, Johnny looks back at Kyle. 

It’s like he can tell Kyle is thinking the same thing as him, when they get into the kitchen they should grab them, there's more room, they’ll take one each. Kyle and Johnny move up to the door and watch them as they walk around the dining room table. Johnny moves first, striding up to the closer man and grabbing him from behind, pressing his hand over his mouth and his pistol into his back. 

Kyle grabs the other in a similar manner, they both drop their weapons and Kyle fires first. Johnny follows after, quick and precise shots through the head. They both let the bodies fall to the ground. Kyle flicks the light on as Johnny picks up one of the man’s rifles. 

“Fucking shadows.” Kyle says pulling the patch off the guy he took out.

“Beta’s too. They were sent from America.” Johnny says kicking his guy over onto his back. 

“Shit. We need to move.” Kyle says. Johnny nods going over to the backdoor. 

“Disabled the alarm system. Remotely I bet, or tapped into the wires outside.” He opens the back door taking a deep breath in. “I don’t smell anyone else.” 

“I’ll call the cavalry. You take the omega.” Johnny says reaching into his pocket and handing Kyle the key to the master bedroom. Kyle nods, pushing the pistol into his waistband and heading for the stairs.

...

You wake to Kyle squeezing your shoulder. You smile up at him, yawning as you sit up rubbing the sleep out your eyes. You still feel tired, your muscles are heavy, your head is spinning. Then you smell it; beta. It’s not Johnny or Kyle, it's someone new. Goosebumps rise on the back of your neck, you feel panic build inside you. Something’s wrong. 

“We need to leave.” Kyle says as he stands up, you see the pistol sticking out your waistband. You swallow feeling a pit form in your stomach. 

“Where’s Johnny?” You ask, you’re moving automatically as Kyle brings over socks and shoes. 

“He’s downstairs calling John.” Kyle says before turning to zip the bags up. He picks them up, throwing them out the bedroom into the hall. 

“Where are we going?” You ask about picking your jacket up and pulling it on. You’re nervous, your hands shake. They told you it was safe here, that no one would ever find you. Kyle stops what he’s doing when he comes back into the room. You look up at him worried, he softens his expression and comes over to you placing one of his hands on your shoulder. 

“It’s going to be okay.” He says. “We have a plan in case this happened. John will tell us where to go next.” You nod but you can’t hide your nerves, he gives you a quick kiss before picking your bag up and throwing it out the room. You follow him into the hall, not quite sure what to do.

Then you can smell it, death thick in the air. You’ve smelled the scent of dead beta many times and you don’t think you’ll ever get used to it. You reach out for Kyle gripping his arm, he stops what he’s doing and turns to you. 

“How about you go pack up your nest. I’ll come and get you when I’ve got this sorted.” He says you nod and blink away the tears before heading down the stairs. You can smell the unfamiliar beta scent all through the house, it’s almost like you can see where they stepped. It makes you feel uncomfortable, they were in your space, your pack's safe haven. 

You make it to your nest picking up the trinkets, all the pieces you have from everyone. They’re the only things you want, you know you’ll come back here, you’ll see this nest again. You look over into the kitchen through the dining room. You can still hear Johnny talking on the phone, just quiet enough you can’t make out what he’s saying. 

You can smell him though, he smells confident and angry. He sounds angry too, someone did just break into his house. A beta, which means the professor has found you. You try not to think about it too much, your hands are still shaking but you grip the tokens tight to your chest letting them ground you as you get up and head towards the kitchen.

You make it through the dining room before you see the bodies. It makes you gasp, they’ve been wrapped in some kind of tarp but you can see the blood marks on the floor, you can smell it in the air, it makes you feel sick. 

“Shite.” You hear Johnny say looking up at him. He looks worried, the phone still pressed to his ear. “C’mon love, you don’t need to see that.” 

“What happened?” You ask, his hands grip your shoulders pulling you through the kitchen and out into the hall where Kyle is stacking the bags up.

“They broke in.” He says.

“So you killed them?” You ask. 

“They work for Graves.” Kyle says.

“Which means they work for Hale.” Johnny says. You turn to look at him, you need to keep it together, you don’t want to cry anymore. You don’t want to make them worried. 

“Here.” Johnny says holding the phone out for you. You nod, taking it. 

“Hello.” You say. 

“Hey, love.” It’s John’s voice, your lip quivers, you feel the tears come and you can’t stop them. 

“It’s going to be okay. John and Kyle, they're going to take you somewhere safe.” He says. You don’t know what to say, they thought it was safe here and people broke in. People who want to take you back to the professor, or kill you. 

“Where?” You manage to say with a sniffle. 

“America, you’re coming here.” He says. It makes you smile, it feels like a relief, you’re going to see your alphas again. “You’re coming here, and we’re going to protect you, as a pack.” 

“I love you.” You say swallowing the sob. 

“I love you too. Listen to Kyle and John, they know what to do, you’ll be here before you know it.” John says. You nod and hand the phone back to Johnny who takes it and turns back towards the kitchen. You turn and look at Kyle who bends down to zip your bag open. You drop the tokens in the bag and zip it back up. 

When you’re done he comes over and wraps his arms around you. You sigh breathing him in, his scent is familiar, nothing like the strangers who entered the house. He squeezes you tight before letting you go and holding you at arms length. 

“We’ve got this okay?” He says, you nod. “It’s going to be alright, and if everything goes according to plan we’ll be with them sooner than you think.” You smile and he drops his hands from your shoulders. You turn to look out the front door, the sun is just starting to pop up over the horizon. You bring your hand up to your chest and feel the necklace under your top. 

At least you’ll get to see John and Simon again, you’ll be back together as a pack. That's the way it should be.

Dividers by Plum98 & gild-ui

[howlettsangel]

—sunday nights

tags/warnings: 18+ mdni dbf!logan howlett x f!reader, sunday night fb, reader in college, big big age gap, established relationship, mostly fluff with mini smut, dry humping if you squint, clothes stay ON, risky touching

a/n: super duper short but im sooooo obsessed with dbf!logan...

wc: 1.1k

The TV was loud downstairs, so loud it cut through the music blaring in your headphones. Logan had stayed after dinner to watch the game, him and your father fussing at the screen for the past hour. Their voices mixed with the bustle of commentary and advertisements eventually drew you out of your bedroom.

You had driven in for fall break to visit with your father and catch up with a few missed faces from childhood. It felt good to be home, somewhere familiar outside of university. And maybe, it felt sort of nice to see Logan again.

Your father had worked with Logan since before you could remember. He had definitely become a regular face in your house, from birthday parties to family events. He tagged along whenever invited.

The feelings that developed over time seemed trivial, like a simple teenage crush. But, oh, it was more than a crush. For both parties. Logan spent days at a time trying to figure out when he would see you next. When was your next break? What holidays were coming up? No matter how many times he swore he didn't, he always found his mind wandering back to those questions.

⋆୨୧

You padded down the carpeted stairs, the soft thuds of your footsteps causing the pair of men to turn their heads towards you. You watched as a smile settled on your dad's face for the brief moments his attention wasn't on the screen.

"Look who it is," he teased, "I thought you would've gone to bed by now, sweet pea. Long drive yesterday."

"You think I can sleep with the two of you screaming down here?" you shot right back, your tired eyes drifting over to Logan in the other arm chair. He gave you a small scoff, half laughing, half annoyed by your comment. His eyes stayed on the screen as he let you and your father talk, but he felt you looking at him.

"Hey, ain't our fault they've played like shit lately," your dad shrugged back at you.

You moved into the kitchen to get a glass of milk, maybe some juice to sip on while you lingered around in the living area. It felt like you were being a bother from time to time, but having the liberty to stare at Logan from afar was far better than any stuffed animal up in your bedroom.

By the time you were finished up with the glass in your hand, the halftime ads were coming on. You knew your dad never cared much for whatever new brand he was gonna be convinced into buying from, so it wasn't surprising when he announced his plans to get more beer.

"M' gonna head out and fetch some more beer before the second half," he grumbled as he stood from his recliner. The wood floor creaked as he moved towards the front door and took his keys off the hook. "Keep an eye on her, yeah Logan?"

Of course he was just being a tease, glancing over at you with a smirk and then back to his friend. "I'm not a baby, he doesn't have to 'keep an eye on me,'" you protested, but the thoughts that came to your mind when you imagined the two of you alone betrayed your words.

"Yeah, yeah, we'll be fine," Logan huffed. The two of you watched your father leave with excitement bubbling in your chests, and it wasn't long before you were in the living room again.

You discarded your glass on the coffee table beside the couch, shifting closer with a smile on your face so that you could sit down right next to Logan. He didn't argue one bit with your company and simply let his arm fall across your shoulders. The scent of your perfume was light and faded from a long day, and he could still tell what shampoo you had used last night. It felt like a drug.

"Why're you sitting so far away?" he grumbled, the smallest hint of a smirk on his face. He tugged you a bit closer, an invitation for you to sit on his lap.

Like him, you weren't arguing. You rolled your eyes just to play up the sass, but inevitably shifted on top of his lap. It felt like ages since the two of you had a chance to be alone. It was always a risk, and it still was now. Your dad was never one to waste time when it came to football, but the back fridge was a bit of a walk from the main house.

"You're trouble," you breathed out, your voice soft as you leaned in to brush your lips against Logan's. Smiling back at you, Logan shook his head.

"Says you."

Kissing was usually the furthest risk you two would take especially on nights like these where getting caught was just a disaster waiting to occur. The longer your little make-out sesh went on, the lower Logan's hands went on your body. His palm slipped between your bodies that were flush against one another, reaching underneath the nightgown you wore.

You knew exactly what he was trying to do, yet Logan would just blame it on all the beer he had in his system (which was only two bottles). His fingertips brushed against the thin cloth of your panties, and even though you had definitely worn them for him, that didn't mean you could just throw your dignity out the window.

"Lo," you whined softly. Your hips were moving on their own accord as they bucked into his touch: squirming because you wanted more and because you wanted him to cut it out. "He's gonna see us."

"No he ain't," Logan couldn't care less about getting caught by your father. He continued coaxing each and every little whine from your lips. Your words weren't driven into his brain until you both heard the front steps creak.

His hand stilled for a moment as if thinking what to do, but you quickly moved away. You brushed off your dress to compose yourself and cleared your throat as an extra effort. It was only seconds before your dad came back, a second case of beer in his hand and an excited smile on his face.

"I didn't miss anything, huh?" he asked. You were still sitting on the couch, a bit closer to Logan than what seemed appropriate, but it didn't take long for you to scoot away. You were trying desperately not to laugh.

Your dad fell back into his armchair, barely paying any mind to where you were. You made eye contact with Logan across the couch, mouthing a small 'sorry' through your attempts to hide a chuckle.

He knew he would just have to wait until next sunday night.

tags: @blah-blah-bee @ellaynaonsaturn @ellaynahowlett @sweetverine @nymphoniah @cruel-as-sin @lostinlovingrevery @mcrdvcks @manipulatour @kvntonq

[steviewashere]

This is another one of my certified Piss Kink posts...so uh...minors do not interact and also...no shaming

Thinking about Steve and Eddie having an outdoors by the pool summer day. And they've already established their mutual piss kink. Steve really really wants to be treated as Eddie's urinal. But Eddie doesn't really know that part, not yet at least.

Anyway.

Steve keeps bringing Eddie an endless stream (see what I did there?) of Mtn Dew to drink—he already keeps his fridge stocked with a 12 pack, might as well see how many Eddie can drink. Like, to the point that Eddie starts to get uncomfortable—not bad uncomfortable—just bloated and squirmy and...yeah. He very quickly figures out what game Steve is getting at (so I guess this would be, like, they have the mutual kink but they don't always discuss the kink...if that makes sense?). So Eddie just keeps accepting the drink Steve is bringing him: Mtn Dew, a cold glass of lemonade, a whole bottle of water, even a few slowly melting popsicles. To the point where it's nearly unbearable, not terrible, but he knows if he doesn't relieve himself soon, there's going to be some strong consequences.

So while Steve is—presumably—inside getting another drink, Eddie excuses himself to the side of Steve's house with a miserably aching bladder. He's squeezing himself through his swim trunks. He's hunched into himself, walking weird because his thighs are squished together. He's breathing heavy, both turned on and exerted.

But when he gets to the side of the house, he finds Steve already there. Sitting on the pavement. Legs spread wide. Fully erect in his speedo.

Eddie's confused, understandably so—how did Steve know I'd go over here? Why is Steve on the ground? What the hell is going on??

And then, "Want you to use me like a urinal, Eds," Steve says. His voice is breathy and light and gone. There's a starry glaze to his eyes. He's flushed in the face and peering up at Eddie softly. Expectant. Trusting.

It's not the weirdest thing they've done—there was the whole pissing on Steve while he laid on the shower floor, the time he forced Steve to piss in a bottle while they were stuck in traffic (and then didn't let him come that night for not being able to hold it in), and a few other miscellaneous things that are neither here nor there. But this one feels a little out of left field.

Eddie's an improviser, though. He was made for this.

So he drops his trunks. Steps between Steve's legs. And tells him he's not allowed to come...because, of course, urinals don't come; so why should Steve?

He aims his stream at Steve's chest hair, over his thighs, a little spray across his face, and then the rest goes over his tight, tight Speedos. These little briefs that are already revealing every last little detail of Steve. And now they're wet. Wet and shiny and slick to Steve. Form fitting entirely along Steve's thick, long, veiny dick.

When Steve reaches to touch himself, Eddie immediately strides forward with full bravado. He yanks at Steve's hair, swats at his hands, and tells him, "Only I get to make you"—and then he reaches into the waistband of Steve's Speedo, fisting his dick tight—"flush," Eddie finishes.

And uh...yada yada yada...Steve comes with a guttural, deep moan and he slumps into himself and comes for what feels like forever. And then Eddie licks up Steve's face (because they're gross like that) and then uh...........

Eddie brings Steve his first drink because he seems parched and just needs to refuel after all that hard work he did <3

Piss piss fall in love <33

[v3lvet-midnight]

𝖑𝖔𝖛𝖊 𝖞𝖔𝖚 𝖙𝖔𝖔 𝖒𝖚𝖈𝖍 (40𝖘 𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖌𝖊𝖆𝖓𝖙! 𝕭𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖊𝖘 𝖝 𝖌𝖓! 𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖊𝖗)

Brooklyn has plenty of people he can pick for a partner, but his sights are set on the most beautiful of all. warnings: other than a very vague mention of gods and sickenly sweet fluff none

Bucky was a flirt; it came so easy too him like second nature. However, none of the many ladies whom he made swoon could ever compare to you the beautiful baker from up the street.

He's seen you around for years and in that time, he found that you were smart, you weren't afraid to correct him on things he got wrong unlike the rest of those he swooned with just a few words. No, not even close. You didn't hesitate to tell him when he said something you didn't like. God, he adored it. He missed your interactions while he was away at war, he couldn't stop thinking about you, no matter how hard he tried. When he was alone, he would think back to your many interactions. Memories would flash of your smile, the way your eyes lit up when you laughed at one of his jokes, or even the way you'd playfully jab his shoulder when he purposefully said something he knew would annoy you. 

He was counting down the days until he got to do all that again. Every night he would stay up Missing you, His heart full of longing for you which was a feeling so unfamiliar to the man who had the reputation of charming everyone he's met. Why did he feel this way? He asked Steve before because this feeling was driving him crazy. 

"God it's like they're all I think about ya know? It's like they're haunting me, Steve. I'm not even sure I can say they take up my mind anymore, Its theirs now with how full of them it is" 

"You're in love with them buck, that simple" was all Steve said back to him when he asked followed by some light teasing. 

Those words stuck with him for months, and suddenly the late nights he'd spend thinking of you and your moments together made sense. He did love you, and that realization was pleasant to him, not as scary as he expected. He welcomed it and ever since he did 

You were the first thing on his mind every morning and you were his last thought at night. If there were angels and gods, they'd be the only ones who knew just how much he thought about you while he was alone and just how much he would pray to whoever was listening that you'll be his when it was all over. He'd give anything for it. Hell, if you said the word he would gladly leave behind the war and just spend the rest of his life tucked away in a small, beautiful home with just the two of you. All he wants now is to be yours, for as long as you'd let him.

Some nights he'd lay awake wondering if you thought about him too, and you did. His annoyingly sweet charm and that boyish grin always made the bakery shine a little brighter, now while he was gone it lacked it, and the place felt like it was missing something. Perhaps it was the jokes he'd make leaning over the counter as he watched you, or that flutter in your chest each time he'd praise or compliment your work. you had no idea what it was, but you did know one thing, and it was just how much you missed him without realizing it. You wished you would have asked around for where you could write to him. But what would you say? Plus given his reputation, he probably has plenty of letters already. You decided to wait until he came back, all the words you had to say to him would be better face to face anyway. Youd wait as long as it took to finally utter those 3 words that have been haunting your mind for months now. 

When bucky made it back from deployment you were fighting the urge to just drop everything and go see him. But he was probably tired so you decided to wait until later, to give him the chance to settle in after so long.

But the sergeant had other plans. The moment he arrived he already knew he was going to go see you first. The same person who has consumed his every thought since he left and the same person who without knowing has captured his heart without knowing. As fast as he could he immediately rushed over to the bakery, still in uniform not caring about anything else but being able to see you. 

Once he made it to the bakery he didn't hesitate to step inside. 

"Here instead of goin' to welcome me back? I'm hurt doll, and here I thought I was important to ya"

You immediately recognized that voice, hell you could see that damn charming grin without turning to see who was speaking.

"Back already Barnes? I was just starting to enjoy the peace and quiet around here" 

you turned around and there he was, that same boyish grin that made your heart flutter.

"ah, there's that pretty face i missed so much" 

He began to move closer to you and with every step he took you could swear your heartbeat quickened and now that he was right next to you it was so fast you swear, he could probably hear it. 

"Oh, and by the way doll its sergeant Barnes now"

Before you could respond you felt him take your hand in his.

"Your the first person I came to see once I came back ya know"

he spoke his tone a soft whisper you haven't heard him use before it was almost vulnerable and genuine, yet it was quiet like he wasn't too sure what to say next.

"You're gonna call me crazy for this doll, but i couldn't stop thinking about you while I was away. Its like you have me under some sort of spell." 

you opened your mouth to speak, but he cut you off before you could even mutter a single word

"I love you doll, and it took being away from you for so long to realize it. I cant tell you how many nights I stayed up thinking about your laugh, your smile, especially that little pout you make when I say something to bug you. I love it all doll. More than I've loved anything in my life more than i thought possible. "

The confession was so sincere, his tone still soft but there were points where his voice would crack from all the emotion behind it. It was obvious he was speaking from the heart, and the words he said?  They were enough to take your breath away. Bucky looked at you intently trying to see your reaction to his words already bracing himself for a possible rejection.  His hand still holding yours like it was the only thing keeping him from drowning in his own emotions.

"Say you'll be mine doll, I cant think of anything I want more than that. You have me wrapped around your finger and you don't even realize it. I love you way too much to leave without you loving me back, so please doll"

"I love you too" 

You didn't need to say more, not to him those three words were enough. His hand holding yours gently pulled you even closer and into his arms where he felt you belonged and he wrapped them around your waist, the embrace gentle and loving. His hand let go of yours gently resting on your cheek holding you like you were a delicate flower and then he pressed his lips to yours kissing you. His lips moving against yours so gently like you'd break if he was too rough. It lasted a few moments before he pulled away.

"You have no idea how long I've spent wishing for this"

he spoke softy against your lips before pulling you in for another kiss.