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toplinetommy · 3 years

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Kill My Lonely Nights - Tyson Jost

a/n: after plotting and replotting this fic for over a month its finally here. my baby and definitely my most favorite thing ive ever written. hope everyone enjoys it as much as i do.

tagging @bqstqnbruin thanks for being my beta and for bouncing ideas around with me and also my fav josty whores 😇 @justjosty @hookingminor @farbutnevergone

Synopsis: tyson finally meets jt’s neighbor — and he’ll stick by her side through her ‘i’m a single and independent woman’ phase as long as jt doesn’t find out

songs: im so tired - lauv, troye sivan; better than heaven - slander; cherry on top - olmos, kyle reynolds

words: 20k+

warnings: alcohol, smut, unprotected sex

“Tyson, you know my neighbor right?”

You roll your eyes at JT’s way of introducing the two of you, because, no, you did not know the curly-headed brunette in front of you. You had seen him in passing a few times when he was over at JT’s but you never learned his name. In fact, the only thing you knew about him was that they were teammates and you got that from deductive reasoning since he was always dressed in some sort of Avalanche merch.

“I’m y/n,” you smile, sticking out your hand for the stranger to shake.

“Tyson,” the no longer nameless stranger responds, a quirky smile on his lips.

“It’s nice to finally put a name to the face,” you respond, your cheeks heating up as you look over him. He’s cute in that quirky way where his head’s a mess of curls, his eyes full of joy, and his shoulders filling out the grey Avs hoodie quite nicely.

“Same here,” Tyson agrees, shoving his hands into his sweatpants pockets. You continued to gather the few things in the living room that were yours before finding your phone charger and giving JT a hug.

“I’ll see you when you get back from Chicago yeah?”

“Yep, have a good birthday!” JT cheers, from his spot on the couch.

With that you bid Tyson and JT a goodbye, choosing to wave at Tyson instead of showing an outright affection towards the stranger. The door shuts behind you as you walk a few feet down the carpeted hallway to your own door.

“Dude,” Tyson starts, turning his attention back on his buddy from where it was lingering on the now-closed door.

“No-”

“You don’t even know what I’m gonna say!” Tyson incredulously interrupts.

“You’re gonna tell me she’s hot because, yeah, anyone can see that. She’s going through this thing she’s been calling a ‘guy cleanse’,” JT explains, putting finger quotes around guy cleanse. Tyson brushes the comment aside, not bothering to ask any more questions. If he’d want to get to know you, he knows he’d have to do it without JT’s help. JT always had this thing of being overprotective over the women in his life, especially being a guy that grew up in hockey with three little sisters.

Another week or so passes before Tyson sees you again. It’s when he’s getting into the elevator after getting dinner with his JT, and you’re just getting home from what Tyson presumes is work and maybe even the liquor store with the purse and lunch box hanging in the crease of your elbow as well as the case of Truly’s in your other hand.

“Hey, it’s y/n, right?” Tyson says in lieu of a greeting. He holds the elevator open for you as you step out, thinking of ways to keep the conversation longer than a simple greeting.

“Yeah,” you smile, warmly at him. He can see that your hands are full as you try to shovel through your bag in search of your keys as you take another step towards your door towards the end of the hallway. “Well, uh, have a good night Tyson.”

Tyson watches as you turn away with a small smile, and suddenly he’s stumbling over his words, trying to make the moment last longer. He’s rarely ever seen you around, most times in passing in this very hallway and the occasional time JT talked to you on the phone when they were on the road. You didn’t go to games, you didn’t hang out with the team, and you were never over at JT’s when Tyson would show up.

But when he had officially met you the other week when you were leaving JT’s apartment, he was transfixed and curious about the girl JT always talked about but never brought around.

“Do you wanna come in for a drink?” You ask, nodding to the case in your hand. You’re asking as more of a common courtesy than anything else, but you can tell that he’s waiting for you to make the next move regarding this run-in with him. The peachiness of his cheeks and his hands shoved into his jacket pockets are proof of that.

“You sure?”

“Any friend of JT is a friend of mine,” you smile, opening your front door and gesturing for Tyson to go in before you.

“Yeah, okay,” Tyson smiles, taking another step towards you and reaching out for the box of Truly’s. “Let me take that for you.”

Tyson graciously takes the case from you and steps through the doorway of your apartment, suddenly losing any train of thought he once had now that he’s in an apartment he’s never been in. He sees the fridge across the way and decides he’ll just stick the drinks in there. There’s thankfully space in the fridge for them and he watches you shred your raincoat and heels by the door. “So, uh, how do you know JT? Like, I know you guys are neighbors but he’s always referring to you as his best friend. I honestly didn’t even know that you lived next to him until the other week.”

You laugh, thinking back to how you even met JT. It was nowhere near being a typical introduction between neighbors, it was honestly pretty far from that. “So, whenever he first moved here like two years ago, I was sitting in my car in the parking garage on the phone with my dad, and this car parks next to me and the driver gets out and completely dings my car. I’m talking a paint scratch that’s starting to rust now.”

“He’s pretty unaware of his space,” Tyson laughs, knowing all too well that his friend did something like that.

“And so, I get out of my car, and I confront him about it, and he apologizes and whatever, not a big deal. But then he gets off the elevator with me and I’m thinking this guy’s gotta be a creep since he’s barely talking to me but then he pulls out his keys and is unlocking the door next to mine, and now he bugs me all the time,” you smile, Tyson making space for you to go into the fridge he’s currently standing in front of.

“You see that picture frame over there?” you nod your head to the wall your TV is mounted on. Tyson walks over to it, inspecting it and noting that neither of the people in it are you or JT. “There’s paint missing behind it because when he was helping me mount my TV he hit the wall with the drill. He got me the frame to cover it but I still haven’t gotten around to putting a picture there.”

Tyson’s eyebrows quirk up, “and how long has it been there?”

“Uh, maybe a year?” you answer, your tone making it sound more like a question as you blush. Tyson only laughs at you, fully understanding how something like that can slip from your mind. You offer him a Truly at that, him not missing an opportunity to chirp you since your flavor of choice was lime, even though his was black cherry, which in your mind was the most basic flavor there was.

He sits across from you at the island while you stand opposite of him, leaning on the granite in front of you. He can’t get enough of your laughter, finding it’s something you do quite often as the two of you share stories. You, on the other hand, have to stop yourself from blushing since he doesn’t break eye contact with you once. It’s starting to get late and you still haven’t eaten dinner, so with an empty Truly in hand, Tyson is reluctantly getting up to head home to prepare for his early practice and flight tomorrow. He doesn’t want to impose on you any further, considering you were essentially strangers an hour ago.

You wave goodbye at him as he walks down the hallway to the elevator, a smile on your face as he nearly runs into Mr. Harter, the man that lives at the end of the hallway. You laugh as he apologizes profusely, something you amount to his Canadian upbringing.

Tyson curses himself over the next few days for not getting your number, and there’s no way in hell he’s asking JT for it. He doesn’t know how he’ll go about getting it, and the possibility of him running into you to get it is slim, with the fact that the Avs have a nine-day roadie on the upper East Coast. He figures he’ll try to ask JT more about you over the course of the trip, and then hopefully weasel his way into getting it.

It’s three days into the roadie and they’re sitting next to each other on the flight from Ottawa to Toronto. JT is busy on his iPad, and Tyson looks around him, seeing Cale and Gravy reading books, and G is passed out behind him. Tyson nudges JT’s shoulder with his, JT pulls out his AirPod and looks towards his buddy.

“So, y/n, eh?” He jumps right in, watching as JT rolls his eyes and moves to put his AirPod back in. “You said she doesn’t date?”

“Correct.”

“Why’s that? She seems like she wouldn’t have any issue in that department.”

“First off, that’s gross. Secondly, even if she was dating, you aren’t allowed to try anything,” Tyson chooses to ignore that part but continues to listen anyway. “She’s just like focused on herself, I don’t know. She knows her worth and knows what she deserves. She’s been single for as long as I’ve known her. It’s no bullshit with her, in every aspect of her life.” JT shrugs his shoulders as he talks. He’s not an expert on the topic because it’s not one you really talk about with him considering it’s just not really a huge part of your life.

Tyson hums along as he listens to JT talk, trying his best not to show why he’s even asking these questions in the first place. He takes what his friend says in stride, not being one to have gone through a phase like the one you’re going through. In fact, Tyson’s never been someone to say no to a date, fully taking advantage of the pro-athlete lifestyle he’s been living for years now. JT knows this, knows what it’s like to be 22, and all eyes on you.

He was there once, but he’s been with Sydney for over two years now. JT knows the locker room talk that goes on within hockey teams, he’s been living it his whole life. Yeah, the Denver room has been the best and the calmest when it comes to comments about guys’ dating lives, but the occasional whistle and chirp is made when one of the single guys has a story to share. The last thing he wants is to hear your name in one of those scenarios.

He doesn’t get your number during that road trip, can’t even find you on social media so he puts his efforts on pause. He even went through the list of people JT followed, your name not coming up once. Come to think of it, he doesn’t even know your last name.

Soon January is ending and February is starting, the season kicking into high gear as the all-star breaks ends and the playoff push truly begins. Tyson still hasn’t seen you around other than the occasional run-in, and you honestly haven’t given him much thought since that night in late January. Your life has always been chaotic, but still in the most organized way, and you’ve barely seen JT with the way his game schedule is laid out. But the middle of February brings Sydney to town and brings too many parties while she’s around.

It’s at Andre’s place where you see Tyson again, warm pleasantries shared between the two of you. He’s a little confused as he watches you chat with almost everyone there, the weird feeling coming from the fact that most people filling the apartment are on the Avalanche roster. He wonders if you’ve already met most of them or if you’re just that outgoing.

Tyson finally makes his way over to you, two cans in hand as he offers you the one with green lettering with a smile.

“A lime White Claw? That’s the way to my heart,” you joke, placing your hand over your heart before taking his offering.

“I was asking around to see if there were any Truly’s,” Tyson laughs, waving his hand around. “But I hope the White Claw is okay.”

“A White Claw definitely isn’t as good as a Truly but it’s a close second, thank you.”

“Right!” Tyson agrees, “People think they all taste the same but there’s a clear hierarchy of which seltzers are better than others.” You laugh along with Tyson at his comment in complete agreement. You tell him your own tier list of seltzers, starting with Truly’s and ranking the Bud Light ones as the worst.

“I’ve only had a few of them, but I’ll take your word for it,” The laughter between the two of you dies down before JT finds you, saying he’s been looking for you for a little bit.

“It’s not my fault I’m hidden by all these huge men,” you roll your eyes, pointing around the room that’s filled with men all over six feet tall.

“Did you know your neighbor was a hard seltzer connoisseur?” Tyson asks with a quirk of his eyebrow, causing you to scoff. You were nowhere being a ‘connoisseur’ of sorts.

JT takes a sip of his drink, “She’s an alcohol connoisseur period, bud.” WIth that JT disappears to go find his girlfriend, leaving the two of you alone. Tyson’s face is filled with confusion at JT’s comment, not entirely sure what his comment even meant.

“I used to bartend in college,” you answer his silent question. “Which makes me JT’s personal bartender most nights.”

“Maybe I’ll have to get you to make me a drink sometime then,” Tyson suggests. It’s a little too forward for his liking but it just slips out, and you giggle at his attempt at flirting. His tan cheeks have a pink flush to them, and you’re sure it’s not from the alcohol since most people have only been here for an hour or so.

“C’mon,” you nod your head in the direction of the kitchen. Tyson silently follows you, weaving between the people and the furniture. “I can get you that drink right now.”

Once you make it to the kitchen you look around the counters, taking note of the different types of liquors laid out. Tyson watches you as your hands move around, picking up and setting down various bottles. When you’re satisfied with your concoction, you hand him a shot glass, one in your own hand to match his.

“It’s a shooter,” you inform him. He puts trust in you, clinging your glass with his own and bringing the glass to his lips as he tips his head back. Your eyes stay on him as his tongue pokes out to swipe the extra liquid off his lips before you realize you haven’t even taken yours yet. His eyes stay locked on you as you throw your own shot back, your eyes reconnecting when you set the glass on the counter next to you.

A shiver runs through you as his eyes watch your every move. You hadn’t noticed it with any of your other previous run-ins with him but he’s intimidating in that way where his presence is radiating that good kind of confidence. You watched him, unbeknownst to him, as he made his way around the room before ever making it to you.

“So what was that you just gave me?” He asks, crossing his ankles and leaning further on the counter behind him. You move to stand next to him, your shoulder brushing his cotton-covered bicep.

“It’s called a lemon drop shot, it’s just vodka and lemon juice so nothing too special,” you shrug, turning to look up at him. “Maybe I’ll get around to making you more drinks.”

Tyson smirks lightly at your comment, his hands gripping the counter behind him. He remembers what JT told him not too long ago about you, and how you’re someone that doesn’t put up with bullshit when it comes to relationships and his heart deflates a bit. He’d much rather keep talking to you and eventually kiss you, but he knows deep down that’s not what he wants with you either. He can tell from your brief encounters that this could be way more than just a few dates, so he holds back and instead bites his lip before pulling his phone out of his pocket.

He passes it over to you, and you hesitate taking it as you look between the black phone and his brown eyes, “so we can plan a time for you to make me drinks.”

“Ah, I see, I see,” you quip back, taking the phone from his hands and opening a new message and typing in your phone number. You respond back to him on your phone, showing that you got the text and opening up the contact to save his information. “Should I put in some funny name for your contact or is Tyson good enough?”

Tyson laughs fully at that, his chest rumbling for a moment before he calms down and tells you his name is just fine for now, “but I won’t complain if you find a better name for me.” Tyson scratches the back of his head for a moment as he places his phone onto the counter next to him, trying to find the words to keep the conversation going.

You leave not too long after that, catching an Uber with JT and Sydney back to your place. Tyson stays near your side most of the night, giving you a full hug as you leave and a promise of texting you soon.

You see Tyson the next morning at brunch with JT and Sydney, his strong, muscular thighs touching yours in the small booth. You get some fancy french toast, Sydney eyeing you from where she sits across from you. She’s been a close friend of yours ever since JT introduced the two of you whenever she first visited. Her eyes keep flicking between you and Tyson and you give her a stern look, silently telling her to knock it off.

“So, y/n,” she starts, a smirk forming on her lips. “How’s the dating life?”

You scoff with a laugh at her question. She knows well enough how that aspect of your life is doing considering you text her on a pretty regular basis. You choose not to answer, the scoff you let out being enough.

“Besides, no guy is good enough for her, right?” JT asks, looking over at you continuing his girlfriend’s train of thought. His eyes glance over at Tyson sitting next to you and Tyson ignores the look his teammate gives him.

“You mean the idiots you always try to set me up with? The ones that don’t live in Denver?” You quip back with a raise of your eyebrows. It’s more of a joke than anything else, but Tyson doesn’t quite understand your tone and mannerisms yet.

His heartbeat speeds up momentarily, thinking that if you hadn’t had any interest in any of JT’s other friends, you definitely wouldn’t have an interest in him. Besides, he may live in Denver now, but that’s not even the whole year when you account for traveling and the offseason.

You miss it, but Tyson changes the subject anyways, which is something you’re grateful for. Brunch passes by and when the waitress comes back with two checks, you knit your eyebrows.

“Actually, could I have my own check? We aren’t together,” you stumble, cheeks heating up at the misinterpretation of yours and Tyson’s relationship.

Tyson takes the check from your outstretched hand, “it’s fine, I got it.”

He’s talking more to you than to the waitress as he smiles warmly at you. You thank him quickly, but not before saying you have enough cash to take care of the tip. He doesn’t argue, following the three of you out of the restaurant and to your car. The two of you linger a little further back than JT and Sydney, both of you reveling in the comfortable silence.

“Do you have any plans for the rest of the day?” You ask.

“Not really, I was probably gonna call my mom and maybe do my laundry,” Tyson answers.

“Do you want to come over and hang out instead? I’m just gonna third wheel the two of them but maybe we can find something to do that’s more interesting than laundry.”

Tyson laughs at the third wheeling comment you make, being all too familiar with being the third wheel around most of his friends. “Sure, yeah, I’ll just follow you all then?”

“That sounds good. I’ll see you in a few,” you say goodbye with a smile and a shy wave, hopping into the backseat of JT’s SUV.

Once you get home, Tyson’s knocking on your door a few minutes later with the same warm smile he seems to always have. He sheds his winter coat as he enters your apartment, throwing it over the back of one of the kitchen chairs. He notes the change in clothes, as you’re now wearing an olive green crewneck instead of the wrap top with flowy sleeves you were wearing at the restaurant a few moments prior.

“You a big reader?” He asks, picking up and inspecting the book that’s laid out on the kitchen island. The Power of Now, it reads on the cover. He flips through the first few pages and goes to the back cover to read the reviews.

“Sometimes, it depends on what it is, but I usually just go through phases where I read in all of my free time and then I won’t touch a book again for the next few months,” you admit with a small laugh. “That one’s really good so far though. It’s just about how to live more presently and in the moment.”

Tyson nods his head as he listens, his eyes on you as you speak, “Cale really likes reading this kind of stuff, I should tell him about it.”

“Which one is Cale, again?” You ask, mentally going through the Colorado roster.

This causes Tyson to laugh, “JT really doesn’t bring you around much, eh.”

You laugh along with him, “not really, but that’s on me sometimes. I go to bed too early for my own liking.”

Tyson’s confused as to why he’s never really seen you before at anything. Guys on the team are always bringing their friends around if they can. At first he thought he just always missed you, but he knows he wouldn’t miss someone as carefree and beautiful as you. Nevertheless, he’s glad he’s sitting in your kitchen right now, and to top it all off, he didn't even have to ask you to hang out first.

“Do you read at all?” You ask curiously. You really knew next to nothing about the man in front of you other than that he was Canadian, played hockey, and preferred Truly’s over White Claws (his favorite flavor was still to be unknown to you).

Tyson chokes out a laugh at your question, “No. When we travel I usually play random games with Sammy and he’s been teaching me French. I still don’t know much so don’t go asking me to say anything.”

“Duly noted,” you nod. You move to the pantry, looking for a few things as you continue to respond. “Like I said, my interest in reading comes in waves and you barely speaking French is better than me only knowing English.”

You continue rifling through your pantry, pulling out everything you know you need. You’ve just finished setting all of the dry ingredients you’d need to make brownies when Tyson asks you what the hell you’re doing.

“I was thinking we could make brownies,” you respond, opening your fridge and pulling out the milk, butter, and eggs. You hear the island chair scratch against the hardwood, indicating Tyson getting up.

“Wait a second,” Tyson says causing you to turn around with a confused look on your face. “Are these the brownies Comph always bringing around that his friend makes?”

“They very much are,” you chuckle. He compliments the baked good one more time before you’re putting him to work. The two of you move seamlessly through your small kitchen, both of you sharing smiles and stories to fill the time. There’s a moment where you see a certain glimmer in his eyes paired with a small smirk and you think he’s about to pull one of his infamous Jost pranks that JT was always telling you about. He doesn’t though, and instead just nudges your hip with his. It seems like you’re looking more at him more than focusing on the flexing of his forearms as he mixes the dry ingredients.

Once it’s time to mix the dry and wet ingredients, Tyson all but misses half the bowl, causing a good chunk of it to land on your crewneck and jeans. The brown powder covered the ‘Disney World’ logo across your chest.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry,” Tyson rushes out, holding back a laugh, because of course he would embarrass himself in front of you and mess up something as simple as that. You move to the sink, shaking off the loose contents into it to help alleviate any sort of mess.

“You’re fine, I promise,” you reassure, turning around to give him a smile. He smiles nervously back at you, not fully knowing your statement was genuine or if you were trying to spare his feelings. He glanced at your chest, trying to see the damage he had done before realizing he was staring directly at your chest and his cheeks flushed. You walked back over to where he was standing, giving him another smile as you began mixing everything together.

“Would you, uh, ever wanna grab dinner with me some time?” He asks, voice higher than normal as he speaks, his heart beating nervously for your answer. Your face falls as you hear the question and you slowly turn around to face the curly headed brunette. Tyson is a great guy, it’s obvious to everyone, and you’re not oblivious to the fact that there’s physical attraction between the two of you. It’s that Tyson is best friends with your best friend who also happens to be your neighbor.

You laugh nervously at the question, the question seemingly coming out of nowhere, before you respond, “Sure, it’s not like it’s a date or anything.”

You brush it off, even though you’re pretty sure he was explicitly asking you out on a date. You turn your focus back to the brownies, popping them in the oven before wandering down your hallway to change into something clean. As Tyson walks over to take a seat on the couch, he sees your retreating figure as you pull your sweatshirt over your head. He stops in his tracks momentarily, seeing your bare back, the skin between your shoulder blades covered by your lacy bralette. He blinks a few too many times as he shakes any thoughts from his head and continues his path to the couch.

Your guys’ friendship quickly develops after that. The two of you starting a snapchat streak and having a long string of text messages involving various TikTok’s and memes alongside the more serious stuff. You seem to be spending more time at JT’s place when Tyson is also there and soon enough Tyson’s leaving JT’s and going the few extra feet to your place instead of home like he says he’s doing.

It’s one of those rare nights where it’s the three of you at JT’s place and you’re all catching up on the latest episode of Hell’s Kitchen. You’re pretty sure JT cheated and watched the new episode already with how quiet he’s being and how absorbed he is in his phone.

“JT, did you already fucking watch this?” You ask, whipping your head to look at the ginger in question. He’s sitting across the room from you in what he claims as ‘his chair’ while you’re sharing the sectional with Tyson, your feet in his lap. “And you wonder why I never watch shows with you. Tyson and I are going to start watching it without you.”

Tyson chuckles at that, his thighs rumbling under your ankles, his hands coming to rest atop of your shins. JT scoffs at you, unaware of your two’s newfound friendship. To him, the only time you ever saw or even talked to Tyson was when he was also around. Besides, he didn’t need to know the ins and outs of every single thing you did in a day, even if Tyson was involved in a good portion of those things.

You let JT’s previous actions of watching your show ahead slide since the episode was finally wrapping up. JT goes back to the Hulu home screen with an exaggerated yawn followed by stretching his arms above his head. It’s then he turns to his two best friends, letting them know he’s going to start heading to bed and that the two of you are more than welcome to hang out for a little while longer. He doesn’t think much of his offering, but it’s one Tyson’s thankful for if it means he gets uninterrupted time with you that isn’t revolving around the team or drinking.

It’s then he remembers how he never found you on social media, something that had bewildered him in the moment but one he forgot about once he got your phone number and snapchat.

“So, this is gonna sound totally weird but do you have an Instagram?” He asks, infliction in his voice and ears turning pink at the question. He remembers how not too long ago he did some heavy duty deep dives into JT’s social media to see if he could find your name only to come up empty handed. Your stomach tightens and the thought of him looking for you, and you definitely don’t take it the weird way he’s insinuating.

“No, I don’t,” you respond, sitting up further in the corner of the couch, Tyson bravely holding onto your ankles. “Which definitely makes me the outlier of our generation. I had it for a while but then I kinda just got sick of it and how fake it was starting to get, so I deleted my account. I have not missed even once, too.”

He nods his head in understanding, he’s been there, especially with being a professional athlete. “I’ve been there. I deleted my twitter a while ago because every time I got on there some nobody would be in my notifications about how I was playing. I really didn’t need that, ya know? Like, I play hockey for a living and I’m very aware of when I’m underperforming. So, it was hard when I would get on my phone and see other people telling me the same things.”

Tyson’s fingers began to brush comfortably over your shins and ankles as he spoke, causing you to start slouching back into the couch.

“I’ve gone back and forth with deleting Instagram but I just can’t seem to make a decision. Besides, I only follow my friends and musicians I like.”

“It’s definitely not for everyone,” you agree with a hum. “The biggest plus is that it gets me off my phone and I’m more absorbed with the real world. It’s all in that book I was reading a while ago that you asked about.”

Tyson remembers that conversation, a smile falling on his lips as he hands rub higher and higher on your calf. The movements are causing you to yawn not a minute later, but you try hard to keep your eyes open to continue to hang out with Tyson. “You a big music guy then?”

Tyson scoffs with a small, playful grip on your leg, “I get the aux in the locker room, so I’d say so. Not a big deal.”

You laugh at his joking manner, snuggling deeper into JT’s couch. Tyson notices how sleepy you’re becoming and he gives your leg another squeeze.

“C’mon, I’ll walk you home,” Tyson suggests as he slips from underneath you to his feet.

You chuckle at that, considering you're more than capable to walk the few feet from JT’s door to your own. Before you can respond saying just that, Tyson’s reaching his hand for yours to help you off the couch.

“My mom raised me to be a gentleman, so I’m walking you home even if it is down the hall.”

You accept his offer, the two of you walking in silence until you’re pushing your key into the lock. You turn back to Tyson once you’ve cracked your door open, wanting to take in the silent, all-too-relationship-like feeling this scenario is. Tyson’s eyes drift from where they’re focused on your eyes to your lips, before he’s scratching the back of his head, a sign of nervousness you’ve quickly caught on to.

“Goodnight, Tyson,” you smile softly, leaning up on your sock clad toes to wrap your arms around his neck and give him a hug. His arms wrap around your middle; his back bending over at an awkward angle to properly reach you. You breathe in his musky scent as his hands spread out over the small of your back. The scruffiness of his beard against the side of your face has you giggling as you pull away.

“Goodnight, y/n,” Tyson reciprocates your smile, walking a few steps backwards before finally turning around and heading to the elevator. Your eyes linger on his toned thighs and maybe even his butt under the cotton of his joggers as he walks the all too familiar way hockey players walk, before finally entering your apartment.

JT’s sitting on your couch this time around, rather than you sitting on his, a too large glass of wine perched in his hand as the two of you catch up. He’s been busy with morning skates and a string of back-to-backs with a road game sprinkled in the middle. It’s getting to be that part of the season where it’s ‘all gas, no breaks’ as he likes to say. They had an earlier than normal game today due to it being a national broadcast on a Sunday, so the two of you ordered take out from one of your usual spots and parked your asses on your couch for the night.

“I feel like we haven’t had best friend time in so long,” JT groans, sipping down the remnants of his wine before standing up for a refill.

“Not all of us can travel the continent on a regular basis,” you chirp with a laugh, one JT matches. The tv show murmurs in the background, it’s one you completely forgot about as JT relates stories and updates on his sisters to you.

“I still can’t believe Jesse graduates soon,” JT starts. “Like, soon when we go to Boston it won’t be the annual family trip since two of the kids are actually in the same city for a change.”

“But that’s so awesome for her, you have to remember that. How’s her season going?”

“They’re doing good, winning games and taking names, she’s really stepped into her captaincy role.” The smile on JT’s face is contagious, causing you to mirror it. You had only met his family a handful of times, only whenever they made the trip out to Denver every now and then. His sister’s, even if you didn’t talk to them regularly, were like your own at this point. JT loved to joke that you were the third sister he never wanted but still somehow ended up with. It was part of the reason he was always trying to set you up with his friends, because to him, if he already knew them, then he knew he trusted them with you. It was more of a joke when it first started over a year ago, but the guy’s he mentioned started to become more serious considerations on your end before you ended up always telling him no.

You were more than okay with being single, being independent, being a woman that never looked for male validation and instead lived life purely for yourself and the people you choose to include with you in that life. JT understood that more than anyone else, that’s why the thoughts you consistently had about Tyson were being shoved deep down inside of you in fear that JT would laugh at the idea and tell you not a chance in hell. It’s why those times you caught each other staring you never did anything about it, or how JT was still unbeknownst to the close friendship you started with him.

It’s why now there’s a silence between the two of you as you take a too-long sip of your wine, a way to stall before opening your mouth and getting JT’s opinion on all of this. You set your glass down on your thigh, your spare hand running along the stem of the glass as you start to speak, avoiding looking over at JT as you do so,

“You know how I don’t date or whatever,” you start, your lip caught between your teeth. You glance over at the redhead on the other couch, seeing him knit his eyebrows as he sets his phone down next to him.

“Yeah,” he draws out, confusion laced in his tone

“Well, I was thinking of maybe getting back out there or something,” you shrug your shoulders, unsure of how to really continue this conversation so you end up on the topic of Tyson being that someone you get back out there with.

“Did someone ask you out?” JT immediately asks with a shake of his head, wondering where all of this is coming from. His full attention is on you now and there’s no way to avoid his eyes as you respond.

“No, I was just thinking about it, I don’t know.”

“Did you, like, have someone in mind?” JT asks, the definitive knit in his forehead still there.

You purse your lips in thought. This would be the time to drop his teammate’s name you think to yourself. His name is heavy on your tongue as you take one more sip of your drink, “Tyson’s kinda cute.”

You say it simply, with a shrug in your shoulders, hoping the ease of your posture radiates towards JT. It doesn’t, just as you expect, a choked out cackle leaving his lips, before he says a harsh ‘no’. The comment deflates you, the knot in your stomach only tightening, mainly because you weren’t really asking him a question and just trying to get that thought out into the open for the first time. JT doesn’t read that as you respond back, telling him was just a thought anyways.

You drop it at that, thoughts running through your head of your close friendship with his teammate, one that’s very close to blurring that line between just friends and something more. It's a problem for another day you think, shoving the thought to the back of your mind as Tyson’s name flashes across your phone screen.

A few more weeks pass of Tyson and you hanging out at JT’s apartment, only for Tyson to follow you to your own apartment before he’d leave for the rink for his game. He slowly began going through his pre-game routine at your place, only to leave with JT under the guise that they would carpool together since his apartment building was on his way to Ball Arena.

Tyson’s cooking his pregame meal in your kitchen, something he had yet to do but when you had told him you had never eaten squash the other day, he made a point to make it his favorite way, even if it meant eating dinner at 4:30. His game day suit was hanging by his coat in your coat closet, you wouldn’t tell him but it was your favorite suit of his. The navy cashmere made the highlights in his dark brown hair pop out and was a nice contrast to his tan skin. He was taking the squash out of the oven, laughing as you made yet another comment on not knowing that was how a squash was cooked.

“What does a squash even taste like?” You ask, peering over the kitchen table to watch him as he places the pan onto the oven to cool down. The bright yellow and oranges of the fruit freak you out a bit, but the smell of garlic and parmesan cheese brings a smile to your face.

“It’s like earthy and nutty, I don’t know. I’m not a Food Network chef.”

The comment has you rolling your eyes with a laugh as you stand up from your chair to retrieve plates and silverware.

“What are you doing?” Tyson asks with a whip of his head as his eyes follow your movements.

You look at him quizzically, pausing your movements on your tippy toes as you reach for the dinner plates, “setting the table?”

“I can do that,” Tyson starts, reaching out for the plates in your hand and setting them on the counter in front of you. “I’m the one cooking.”

“Exactly,” you reason, “And this is my apartment so I know where everything is.”

“I’m wining and dining you, well minus the wine since I have a game.” Tyson shrugs, tending to the squash on the pan and the veggies surrounding it. “That reminds me, the guys are going out after the game, you should come.”

You move around the kitchen as he speaks, filling up two glasses of water to set on the table. He plates the food as he finishes speaking and sets them on the table. It looks colorful and delicious and you’re shocked he can cook something that seems so complicated, especially since you know JT can only cook a burger and some random pasta dish.

“Well, I am going to the game so I don’t see why not,” you finally answer. You hadn’t gone out in weeks it seemed like, mainly due to your earlier than normal mornings and that you were the only single one out of most of your friends. All of your coworkers lived with their partners and were usually the type to bail on a night out so they could stay home. The few single friends you did have lived on completely different schedules than you, so they were either getting home late from work which was around the same time you’d need to call it a night, or were like you and too worried about early mornings to do anything.

But it was a Thursday, and you had taken the weekend off so it was a perfect time to catch your first Avs game of the season, even if it was already a few days into March and the season was halfway over. The both of you eat your dinner with a few laughs, Tyson telling you about how he forced himself to learn to cook over the past two years of living by himself. He even shared a few horror stories of when he lived with JT and Kerf, giving you plenty of dirt to use as blackmail if necessary.

“Dinner was really good, thank you,” you acknowledge standing up and grabbing his plate from him.

“You liked the squash, eh?”

“It wasn’t too bad,” you reply playfully. He knew you liked it with how quickly you scarfed it down and the profuse compliments you offered him. As you clear off the dishes and load the dishwasher, Tyson disappears down the hall only to reappear dressed in his suit, save for the jacket and tie.

“Who are you sitting with tonight? I never asked.” Tyson speaks, making the job of tying his tie look easy as he’s not even looking in the mirror to do so.

“Oh, my coworker, Amelia, and her girlfriend, Gabby,” you respond, leaning back against the counter as you watch Tyson finish up with the details of his suit like putting his cufflinks on and checking his hair in the mirror by your front door.

For a reason Tyson knows too well but ignores, a weight falling off his shoulders as he hears you saying you’re not going with a potential date. But then again, he knows you’re not dating and you more than likely would’ve declined his offer to go out afterward if that were the case. Tyson checks his watch for the time, seeing it’s about time to knock on JT’s door to grab him.

“So, I’ll see you after the game, yeah?”

“Yep, I’ll meet you and JT down by the locker rooms so we can all head out together. Maybe I’ll finally get to meet the infamous Cale.”

The Avs scoot by with a tough division win, one that’s needed to put them in first place in the Central by two points. You’re standing in the hallway of the locker rooms among the other WAG’s that you don’t really recognize due to your lack of knowledge on who’s who. Your nose is buried deep in your phone as you shoot off a text to Amelia telling her to let you know when she gets home safely when you recognize Tyson’s familiar Canadian accent followed by JT’s booming laughter. The two of them reach you, both of them giving you quick hugs before walking to the parking garage.

“Who’s jersey you got on there?” Tyson asks with a nudge of his shoulder into yours. You look down at the 19 stitched into your shoulder with a smirk.

“Only the best Av to ever play the game,” you respond, to which JT rolls his eyes. Tyson’s look of confusion doesn’t change as you answer, still pretty keen to the fact that you’ve never really talked hockey with him besides the stories about practices he’d share with you. “Never told you I didn’t like hockey, just said I never went to games.”

“I’ve tried to get her one of my jerseys and she literally told me she’d return it,” JT interrupts before Tyson can respond. You open your mouth to chirp him back but before you can, JT is calling shotgun once Tyson’s car is in view.

The bar isn’t as packed as you thought it would be, given half of the Avalanche roster was occupying more than a few booths. Andre takes a seat across from where you’re sandwiched between JT and Tyson - a seating arrangement you’re not sure how you got in.

The first round of drinks slowly turns into the third, and you’re no longer squished between two bruly hockey players since JT has found a home at the pool table with Nate and Naz. You had finally met Cale, the blush on cheeks matching Tyson’s description of them. You shared book recommendations with one another while Tyson had wandered off to the bar. It’s then you learn that Tyson’s kind of taken him under his wing, despite the very small age gap and that they live in the same building. Your eyes catch him as he chats with the bartender and a dirty blonde that’s close to his height that you very much did not recognize.

She’s all legs and has an award winning smile from what you see from fifteen away. Tyson’s turned away from you, his back facing you, and if you could see his face filled with that smile that’s showing he’s just trying to be polite to the stranger.

It’s then that you start to fully allow yourself to notice not only the physical attraction you feel towards your new friend, but the emotional one as well. It’s not overwhelming by any means, but the pit in your stomach can only be described as jealousy — a feeling you don’t have much experience with.

You see two new glasses being set in front of them at the same time, assuming that Tyson had bought the stranger a drink. That pit in your stomach only tightens, the smile on your face from Cale’s story falling as you continue to watch them interact.

The pair only talk for a few minutes before the girl walks away, a defeated look on her face. With he departure, you make your way across the hardwood floor to meet him at the bar, nudging his side lightly as you mirrored his stance. He smiled as you greeted him, noting that this was the first time in hours he got you all to himself. You were just as outgoing as he and JT were, always butting into conversations when you had something to say.

“I never asked if you had fun at the game,” he asks, voice somehow still soft even in the loudness of the bar. His voice raises goosebumps on your arms, as you hum before responding.

“It was fun, definitely a good game, just a little too much third wheeling for my liking but I’ll take what I can get.”

The comment is a nod to the feeling Tyson knows all too well, one the two of you seem to always share funny stories about with a dramatic use of eye rolls. You ignore the fact that not even a few minutes prior you were plotting that girl’s death, too busy and entranced with Tyson’s presence.

The night continues to pass with just the two of you in your own little world. You find yourself up on your tiptoes, an arm resting on his muscular bicep as you lean up to speak into his ear. His lips move alongside your temple as he speaks, the scruff of his beard against your forehead causing you to giggle. You’re not even sure if JT or any of the other guys are even still around, but your bubble pops as JT calls your name. You turn your body towards the ginger, your hand on Tyson’s bicep not moving as he says that you two should find an Uber soon.

“Okay, yeah, sure. I’ll be out in a sec, Tyson was just telling me a story,” you let him know. JT knits his eyebrows at the comment but walks outside with a few of the other guys all heading home.

“How are you getting home?” You ask Tyson once you’re face to face with him again.

“Cale and I are gonna Uber back, too,” Tyson answers, his tongue swiping over his lips slowly. Your eyes watch his movement as time seems to slow down as the two of you keep your eyes focused on the others. His eyes are squintier than normal from the alcohol and you’re yours match his in that regard. You’re pretty sure he’s about to kiss you and for once, you’re actually going to let that person kiss you.

Tyson’s eyes flick behind you momentarily before you see his body semi-deflate. He steps away, your hand falling off his bicep for the first time in at least an hour as he picks up his blazer that’s draped over the stool next to him and nods towards the door.

“I think JT’s looking for you.”

Sure enough when you turn around, JT is in the doorway waving his phone in the air and pointing at it, silently telling you that the Uber is almost here. Your shoulders fall as the moment you were sure was about to happen is ruined. Tyson walks you out of the bar, into the brisk start of Spring air. You’re too busy thinking about how you most definitely would’ve let Tyson kiss you and next thing you know, your foot is slipping on the ice and you’re yelping in surprise.

Tyson catches your waist before you can even hit the cold pavement, and again, you’ve found yourself in a compromising position as Tyson’s face is mere inches from yours. You blink away the embarrassment as JT’s comment about your almost accident goes unnoticed by the both of you. You regather your stance, muttering a quiet thank you to the brunette before hugging him and waving goodbye with a soft smile.

“Dude,” Cale chastises, “You like her don’t you?”

The comment made by his building-mate has him stuttering over his words, trying to figure out an answer that’s not a straight up lie. Cale takes that as his answer, though, rolling his eyes with a heavy sigh as the two find their Uber.

“Does JT know?”

“No, because nothing’s going to happen,” Tyson answers curtly as he slumps his shoulders in his seat. “JT told me I couldn't try anything and I’m going to try and respect that. Besides, she doesn’t date so it’s not like I have a real shot or anything.”

“I don’t know, man. She seemed to jump out of her seat and end our conversation when she saw you talking to that girl.”

Cale’s comment silences the two of them for the remainder of the ride back to their building. Tyson hadn’t really paid mind to the fact that the second that girl left, you had appeared and stayed by his side for the remainder of the night. He brushes it off, blaming his inebriated mind for the overthinking before asking Cale how they’ll get his car in the morning.

Tyson wakes up to his phone dinging with a string of texts from you, a smile on his face when sees your name across his screen.

y/n: not sure what you did to me last night but this is the most hungover ive been in forever y/n: thank god i dont have work y/n: jt is still sleeping so im thinking of ditching him to go get breakfast y/n: you in? Tyson: im down Tyson: do you think we could swing by to get my car from the bar too? was gonna have cale drive me but if you can that’d be great

Getting ready for breakfast feels all too real as you do your hair and pick out an outfit before finally brushing your teeth. You tap your fingers an obnoxious amount of times against your steering wheel as you drive to Tyson’s apartment, your lip stuck between your teeth as you softly sing along to the songs flowing through your speakers.

Sitting across from him in the diner feels a little bit suffocating, the events of last night replaying in your mind. The path your eyes follow tends to keep going to his lips before you realize what you’re doing and snapping them right back up to his eyes or to the coffee in your hand. Those lips you sure you were close to kissing last night. He orders some obnoxiously healthy omelette bowl with enough eggs and potatoes on it to feed a house of four, while you get classic french toast.

You don’t miss that opportunity to chirp him, the weight finally off your shoulders as you lighten the mood. Tyson never really caught onto your weirdness, thinking it was some side effect of your hangover.

“Is french toast your favorite food or something?” Tyson asks, mouth a little full as he finishes chewing. You knit your eyebrows in confusion, partly because yes, it is your favorite breakfast food, but why would he think that if he’s only ever seen you eat it right now in this very moment? He sees your confusion, answering your question before you can even ask it.

“You got french toast that one time we went out with JT and Sydney.”

“Oh, it is, actually,” it dawns on you then, even though that morning was over a month ago at this point. It’s sweet that he remembers that, your neck warming at his comment.

“It’s not a big deal,” Tyson shrugs, shoving another forkful of egg into his mouth. And shit, did you actually say that out loud to him? That misstep has your neck heating up even further as you take a large swig of your coffee, mainly so the large mug blocks your face from him.

“Besides,” Tyson starts with a heavy laugh. “You just about inhaled that from what I remember, so it has to be your favorite.”

You drop your jaw in shock from his very true accusation, a slight laugh coming out, “You’re a dick.”

“Hey, at least I’m a dick that paid for your meal,” Tyson acknowledges in a lighthearted tone. You smile at him at that, him sending you one right back. “And before you say you can pay for this one, this is that meal I promised you a while back when we made brownies.”

It dawns on you then, was this a date? Did you accidentally on purpose ask Tyson out on a date? Tyson can sense the wheels turning in your head and drops that topic, instead telling you all about this new artist he’s found on Spotify.

That day’s a turning point for your relationship with Tyson. You end up following him back to his place then, a strange sense of deja vu coming through. The rest of the day is spent shaking your respected hangovers on his couch, your feet perched on his lap, his body naturally leaning towards yours.

Your head’s full of what ifs as you drive the short way back to your apartment, thoughts surrounding the feelings you’ve been ignoring when it comes to why Tyson looks at you the way he does or why he’s always sending you Tik Tok’s about your newfound inside jokes. Your friendship with him is easy, he’s an easy guy to catch feelings for and an even easier guy to fully allow yourself to do that with.

The thought of your friendship with JT clouds your thoughts, though. Unsure of what you should even do considering how quickly he shot you down when all you said was that his friend was cute. You don’t think much of it, knowing that the feelings that are starting to show need to be reciprocated for you to even face that next set of problems.

Soon you’re catching yourself focusing on the number 17 jersey skating around the ice instead of 37 when you have the time to watch their games. Tyson’s eyes are the ones you’re always finding in a room and he’s the one always refilling your drink without a thought. He’s the one you text after a particularly rough day, and he does the same when the Avs snap their eight game winning record. He’s slowly taking that spot as your best friend over from his teammate, a spot you’re sure is slowly turning into more.

It’s another one of those nights where he’s the one you're constantly looking for. This time back at Andre’s apartment with the guys and few significant others as you celebrate yet another Avalanche playoff berth.

You’re drinking far less than the crowd surrounding you, fully buzzed on the atmosphere that is clinching the number one seed in the division with still so much time left in the season. Unlike the group of people that have the day off the next day, you have work, but the thought of missing this night for your two best friend’s wasn’t an option when Tyson texted you as soon as he made it to the locker room after the game was won. Tyson’s hand seems to never be empty, but you soon learn he’s been nursing the same beer since he got to Andre’s. There’s a heavy feeling of contentment washing over him as he celebrates his fourth straight playoff appearance, alongside setting a Central Division record for the fastest team to clinch.

The air between you two has that same fuzzy feeling it’s had for a few weeks now, ever since you had gone out to breakfast with him hungover. The high from the win still filling his veins, that same high radiating towards you as you continually find your way back to his side throughout the night.

Tyson catches you slipping out the door as the sun is just about finished setting and follows you a moment later. You’re leaning against the railing with your arms folded atop of it. It’s the easiest thing in the world for Tyson to step in behind you and place his hands on either side of yours, bracketing you against the cool metal.

The wind blows through your hair, causing you to push some strands back behind your ears as you breathe heavily with Tyson’s new presence.

“You doing alright out here?”’ Tyson asks, one of his laying to rest on top of yours, you fingers interlocking with his.

“Yeah, just wanted to take advantage of Andre’s view,” you respond. Andre’s place had everything, the view of downtown Denver, the suburbs stretching outside of the skyscrapers, but he also had the best view of the mountains you had seen from a complex downtown.

The silence continues between the two of you, the sound of the Denver traffic beneath you filling it out. Tyson’s chest moves behind you with a heavy breath before breaking that silence,

“I talked to my mom this morning.”

“Yeah? How is she?”

“She’s good, but, uh, I called her to tell her about this girl,” he trails off, his chest inflating behind you again as the nerves start to tighten in his stomach. You remain silent, there’s an unspoken understanding that this is something he’s been wanting to get off his chest, something that you too feel the weight of.

“I wanted to tell her about this girl and ask her for advice because it’s complicated since she’s best friends with my best friend who’s also my teammate and I didn’t know if I should put my feelings aside for the sake of my friendship or if I shouldn’t let my friend telling me I couldn’t ask her out stand in the way of my feelings for her.”

Your breath hitches in your throat, the sudden knowledge of the weight his words have. His grip around you had tightened as he spoke, causing you to turn around in his arms slower than you would’ve liked to as your eyes find his. His hands move from the railing to rest on your hips, his grip a little tight yet still soft. Your fingers toy with the hem of his cotton t-shirt, one that accentuates his arms more than you’d like to admit.

You’re not naive, you know that this is that tipping point in your friendship that you’ve been avoiding, yet at the same time anxiously waiting for. He’s right there in front of you, all wide eyed with that playful little glimmer in his eyes and that smile that’s always plastered on his face when he’s with you. It’s the confidence in his smile as he speaks that contradicts the doubt in his eyes and the understanding he has where he knows he needs to take this all slow. He’s not just trying to win you over or get you to bed, he’s trying to show you that he’s what you deserve, that the feelings brewing inside your stomach are two sided.

All of those things are conveyed in the little things and how he hasn’t made any unwarranted moves on you and how he’s always reading the situation before trying anything.

It makes you truly let the feelings you have bubble to the surface as you open your mouth to finally respond, “I don’t think you should ignore your feelings.”

It comes out as a whisper, one where the breaths of air hit Tyson in the chin from how close you two are standing. Nothing else needs to be said, your heart racing in your chest at that first admittance of feelings. Tyson searches your eyes for any sense of doubt, making sure he’s interpreting your words correctly. His hand moves to the junction of your neck, his thumb brushing against the hollow of your cheek. Your hands trail up his sides, brushing the stray curl that’s fallen onto his forehead back in place. He leans into your touch, his nose softly brushing against yours as you close your eyes. His breath fans over your mouth and the hair on his upper lip tickles you before his lips are landing on yours. It’s slow and soft and full of fire as you kiss him back.

You pull apart breathless a few moments later, a smile on your face as you bite your lip. His smile is wider than yours, a sense of smugness behind it. His lips find their way to your forehead, placing a soft, lingering kiss there as he wraps his arms around your body and pulls you tightly to him. A few more heavy breaths are shared before his fingers trail back to your jaw, his thumb running over your bottom lip before pulling you in for another kiss.

His touches are welcome and the chill you felt earlier is gone with his presence, your stomach tightening in a million knots at the man standing before you. Everything he feels is portrayed in his soft eyes and those several moments over the past couple of months where it was just the two of you, getting to know one another much more than you thought you ever would with one of JT’s teammates. The space he gave you as he let you explain your fascination with living the life you did, one with no obsession with social media or what other people thought and one where you carefully curated the people you choose to surround yourself with.

Tyson had slowly worked his way into your heart, one that now had his name written all over it. You smile at the thought, still lost in chocolatey, brown eyes and the way he’s looking at you like the gorgeous view of the Smoky Mountains isn’t right behind you.

“We should go back inside,” you say, breaking the little bubble the two of you had just created. Tyson understands, knowing where the two of you were, knowing who’s just on the other side of the door. Neither of you make any moves to go back inside, and you bask in the cool weather, enjoying the other’s warmth before finally opening the door to the rowdiness that is a bunch of professional hockey players.

JT beckons for you when he sees you come back inside, too drunk to ask where you’ve been for the past fifteen minutes. He’s dragging you to the kitchen, begging you with his eyes to make the room a round of drinks. Tyson smiles at you from a few feet away, silently telling you he’ll find you eventually. He does, making his way to you when everyone’s drink needs are met, his presence causing your stomach to tighten even if he is standing a few feet away from you.

Both of you lay off the drinks for the rest of the night, already tipsy enough from your drinks earlier and in a silent agreement that there’s more to talk about between the two of you once the crowd thins and everyone's on their way home. JT disappears into thin air it seems like until he’s practically yelling that he’s called an Uber for you two.

“I think I’m actually gonna stay for a little longer,” you answer, eyes drifting over to where Tyson is talking with Cale and Andre. He sees you glance over at him, sending a smile right back your way causing you to blush before telling JT he’s fine to head home and that you’ll text him when you get home.

The room starts to clear out after that, Andre’s front door opening and closing every few minutes as Uber’s are called and before you know it you’re in the back of a Kia Sorento, laughing at the lie Tyson told Cale that led to him getting an Uber by himself and your hands tightly intertwined on your lap.

You find out a few months later that he didn’t lie, he just told him that he had finally gotten the nerve to kiss you.

The elevator ride up to his apartment is full of giggles, those giggles only continuing as he fumbles through unlocking his front door. He tells you to stop making fun of him under his breath, a blush spreading from the tips of his ears to his nose.

He’s pulling you inside once the door is unlocked, causing you to lose your balance from the pull. Your laughs quiet down as he stares down at you, that smile you're familiar with nowhere to be found as he licks his lips. He’s pulling you in with those big, brown eyes of his and then you’re kissing him wildly, barely a few feet into his home.

“We should talk about this,” you mutter against his lips, not fully wanting to break away from him. He’s connecting your lips before you can continue, too addicted to the feeling of finally having his lips on yours.

“What is there to talk about?”

“Us, what this is,” you respond between kisses.

Tyson pulls away this time, resting his forehead against yours. He knows the logistics of all of this needs to be worked out, but right now he doesn’t want to think about how he’s making out with JT’s neighbor or his inevitable murder if JT finds out before one of you can tell him.

“Let’s worry about the consequences tomorrow, because right now I can’t keep my hands off of you,” he reasons, dipping his head down to place his lips right below your jaw. “And if the way you’re kissing me is any sign, then I’d say we’re on the same page about how we feel.”

You moan as Tyson’s teeth nip at the skin, his tongue poking past his lips out onto your neck and goosebumps are popping up all along your skin.

You give into him then, too intoxicated in his warmth and the taste of Bud Light on his mouth. It’s a conversation for you in the morning when you’re both nursing your hangovers over a cup of coffee. Your lips move along his hungrily, his hands gripping your face before sliding down your sides and squeezing your ass through your jeans. You tug your fingers through the long curls behind his ears, him pushing you against the nearest wall with a thud and a rattle of a picture frame.

Your lips move along his softly, the passion and fire laced in it enough to cause a wave of electricity through your veins and down to in between your thighs. He’s towering over you with his big personality and his wide shoulders and you feel like you need to get impossibly closer to him as you pull him in by the fabric of his t-shirt. His hands fall to the wall on either side of your head.

“God, I’m never gonna stop kissing you,” Tyson huffs out, causing a quick chuckle to run through your body. It’s quick because as soon as the words are out of Tyson’s mouth, his lips are already back on yours.

“You’re gonna have to stop kissing me if you want to fuck me,” you mutter out, a sly smirk on your lips as you watch Tyson’s eyes grow darker at the insuination. The hands that were bracketing you against the wall slide down to your jaw, his thumb running over your bottom lip again before pushing past your lips. You keep your eyes on his as you suck on the digit, your tongue swirling around it. His resolve slips away from you for a moment, before his other hand drags down your side until his fingers push under your top, the warm fingers ghosting over the skin of your ribs.

His breath is heavy against you, the growing bulge causing his jeans to tighten around him. You’re feeling bold then, as you feel him against your stomach with his thumb still in your mouth and his hand tight around your jaw. He’s frozen in front of you as he watches your eyes, that stupid smirk finally wiped off his face as your hands move under his shirt, your nails scraping against the tight muscles. You hold back both a comment about his abs and a moan at the feeling, all the hard work he’s put into his body clearly paying off as you push his shirt up his chest and over his head.

Your nails drag back down his chest and torso before looping in the waistband of the boxers peeking out from his jeans. His thumb falls from your mouth, the wet digit leaving a trail of your saliva on your chin as you work on pulling his jeans down. His head tips back with a low groan as his member springs free and you sink down to your knees, his hand finding purchase on the back of your head while the other is used to brace himself against the wall.

Tyson sucks in a breath as your hand reaches out to grip the base of his cock, tugging softly a few times as you lick the tip. His mouth waters at the sight of your lips wrapping around the head, your eyes looking right back up at him. You hum around him as you swallow him down, the vibrations causing a groan to escape from Tyson’s mouth. He feels euphoric, even if you haven’t had your mouth on him for more than 60 seconds. His hips involuntarily thrust forward at the wet feeling your mouth gives as you hollow your cheeks around him.

Tyson continued to moan above you as you moved your mouth along him, both of your hands digging into the flesh of his thighs. Tyson’s hand is heavy on the back of your head, not using it to push you deeper onto him, but to ground him as he starts to see stars embarrassingly fast in his eyes.

He pulls you off him then, pulling you up to your feet to stand in front of him once again. There’s a dribble of saliva mixed with his pre-cum on your chin and he wipes it away with his thumb before pulling you in for another harsh kiss. He pushes the two of them to his bedroom, never breaking the kiss as he sheds your shirt and pushes you down onto his bed. You giggle again, the hunger in his eyes all too real as he crawls over your body until he’s hovering over you.

“You’re so fucking beautfiul,” he whispers into your ear, causing shivers to shoot down your body. He runs his hands along your bare sides up to your breasts as he kisses down your neck. His hands brush along your lace covered nipples, making you sharply inhale a breath and arch your back against him. He pulls the fabric down to expose your breasts, his lips still nipping at the skin on your collarbone. He looks down at you again, a sensual look in his eyes that you mirror. His lips attach to one of your nipples, the other being tended to by his fingers as twists and pulls the bud between his thumb and forefinger.

Your hands find purchase in the curls atop his head, pulling at the strands as he breathes a huff of cool air onto your npple before switching to the other one. He makes his way down your body painfully slow, a trail of kisses being left down your stomach until he reaches the waistband of your jeans. He tugs them off just as quickly as he stripped you from your shirt, his eyes locking on the sage green thong you’re wearing and the very obvious wet patch between your legs. He’s impatient from the brief blowjob you gave him and the fact that he’s been imaging this exact moment for far too long now. His fingers dip into the strap of your underwear, his eyes finding yours and asking if this is okay. You respond with a resounding yes as he pulls the underwear off of you.

His lips leave kisses along your thighs, throwing them over his shoulders as his mouth finally makes his way to your center. His beard is rough against the skin of your thighs, a sensation only causing you to whine as he breathes over your clit.

“Tyson,” you whine, causing him to smirk before pressing his tongue to your entrance. The cool, wetness of his tongue has you catching your breath and fisting the sheets underneath you. Tyson moaned against you at the taste as he licked over you a few more times. His lips wrap around your clit, this time causing a full, throaty moan to release from your mouth. One of your hands found its way to his head, holding him impossibly closer to you, the other finding his hand as he interlocks your fingers together.

His tongue dives into your opening, fucking into you as his other arm wraps around your thigh so he can rub his thumb at your clit. His tongue licked around you entrance, alternating between that and fucking into you. His thumb stayed on your clit, rubbing circles hoping to get you to that tipping point, the one you felt nearing with every pass of his tongue over you. Your back arched off the bed, your hips pushing further into Tyson’s face as you felt your high near. Tyson continued at the same pace, pushing you over the edge as you moaned out his name.

He continued to lick softly at you, his thumb slowing down on your clit as he lifted his head up to kiss at your collarbone. The kisses he leaves along your inner thighs gives you time to catch your breathing, your chest still heaving from your orgasm. It’s short lived as his thumb on your clit slides down to your entrance, spreading your wetness around before pushing a finger into you.

His lips make their way back to your clit with the same smirk he had on his face a few minutes ago, wrapping his lips around the bud as he moves he added another finger. You clench down him at the feeling, moans and heavy breaths of air escaping your mouth as Tyson worked his fingers against your g-spot and his mouth worked over your clit. Your hand squeezes his, the pressure becoming too much so soon after your first orgasm. It doesn’t take long for you to groan out his name again as you clench down on his fingers, your second orgasm rushing through you.

He stays down there a moment longer, but you pull him up by his hair, just wanting his lips on yours and his body hovering over you. His beard is wet from both his spit and your juices, and it has you licking your lips and craning your neck upwards. You pull him in with both of your hands, licking into his mouth and tasting yourself on him.

The kiss is heavy, his hands running along your body trying to memorize every dip and curve, the heavy weight of his member on your hip. His curls tickled your forehead, the kiss turning soft as he splayed a hand on your cheek to pull you in tighter. The head of his dick brushed over your mound, a shiver running through you at the feelings, your hips bucking up towards his with a small whine.

You reach your hand down between your bodies to tug on him softly, a whine leaving Tyson’s lips, one that’s swallowed by your kisses. It’s unspoken between the two of you as pulls away from you, only to push your hand away from him and give himself a few tugs as he settles heavily between your thighs.

You share a look, one that’s gleeful and full of smiles as he licks his lips and slowly pushes into you. You moan and whimper at the feeling of him inside of you, your hands clawing at his shoulder blades to pull his body flush against your own.

“You good?” He asks, referring to if you’re ready for him to start moving.

“Yeah,” you whine, looking into his eyes smiling, “I’m good.”

There’s a pause as you answer, both of you understanding the double-meaning behind your answer. It’s more than just telling him you feel good physically, but that you feel more than that when he’s with you.

He leans in to kiss you again, starting a slow pace as he thrusts into you. He moaned out at how tight you were, how well you were taking him as he kissed you. He picked up his pace, thrusting into you harder and faster, with more purpose as he rested on his elbows above you, looking into your eyes. You always got lost in those eyes of his, as he hit your g-spot you tilted your head back, your eyes fluttering closed. They weren’t closed for long as Tyson grabbed your chin, forcing you to look at him once again.

“I wanna look at you,” he muttered as he leaned back down to kiss you. Your moans filled the room as the layer of sweat started to thicken on your bodies, his chest rubbing against yours. He lifted your thigh and pushed it against your chest, the new angle causing the knots to tighten in your stomach as you felt you high nearing. Your lips found their way to his neck and down to the dips of his collarbone. Biting down into the flesh as you moan out again, Tyson’s pace quickening as he feels you clenching around him.

“I’m so close,” you moan out, Tyson hitting you deeply. He could feel himself getting close too, his hips starting to stutter as he moved inside of you. Your breasts bouncing as he pounds into you, your eyes screwing shut as your orgasm starts to wash over you. Tyson swallows your moans as he kisses you through your third orgasm.

His breaths are heavy as his orgasm comes soon after yours, spilling into you as he slows his pace down and gently lowers his body weight onto yours. You two stay like that for a few moments, catching your breaths and basking in that post-sex afterglow. He removes himself once you’ve both settled, a whimper leaving your mouth at the newfound emptiness. He disappears to his bathroom, coming right back with a washcloth as he cleans you up. You thank him as he runs the cool, wet cloth over the insides of your thighs, pulling him back for another quick kiss before he disappears into the bathroom once more.

When he gets back, he lays down next to you, pulling your body snug against his. His chest is warm and still a little sticky from the sweat. Your fingers draw aimless patterns along his bare chest, his lips leaving a soft kiss on your forehead and you feel the upturn of his lips when he pulls away. You smile up at him then, leaning up and puckering your lips, asking for a kiss. He obliges with a soft hum and rubs your arm gently before you’re falling asleep against him, a few drops of drool falling onto his chest.

The morning rolls around too quickly for your liking, the curls on Tyson’s head ticking the back of your neck. Neither of you are in a rush to move as he smiles against the bare skin of your back, a few kisses being placed there as you hum and hold his arms tighter to your torso. He’s up from bed moments later, a sweet kiss lingering on your lips as you watch his naked form emerge from bed and pull on a pair of sweats. Your eyes watch over the ripples of muscles between his shoulder blades, down his back and over his ass before he’s running around his apartment in search of your thong.

He remerges with it draped over his finger, a smirk on his lips before he flings it at you, causing a giggle to erupt from your stomach. You pull them on, a large t-shirt being tossed your way to drape over your shoulders. You follow him out to his kitchen then, a small pit in your stomach at the realization of the conversation that needs to be had, the small bubble you’re in at its popping point.

You jump onto his island counter, the coolness of the granite sending shivers down your bare legs, his back to you as he starts the coffee pot. He’s just in a pair of sweats, bright red lines on display on his back. You squeeze your legs together as you cross them, the actions of your late night antics running vividly through your mind.

He presses the warm mug into your hands, his now free hand pushing open your legs to step between them. He’s so close then, probably the closest you’ve really been to him with a sober brain. The heat from his torso radiates towards you, warming not only your skin but your insides as well as you smile at him. He’s still got that wide, goofy smile plastered on his face, the one you’ve grown to love and to look forward to seeing.

Tyson’s hands move to rest on the counter on either side of you, the close proximity between your faces causes you to set your mug down and move your hands to his shoulders.

“What’s going through your mind, pretty girl?” The new pet name has you mentally squealing, your chest tightening as your cheeks heat up.

“Just how last night I was so adamant to talk about everything, but now I’m not so sure I want to break our little bubble,” you start, the huff of breath air coming out softly as you avoid his eye contact, even if he is a few inches away from your face.

It’s hard to concentrate on relaying your feelings to him and fully opening up to a man for the first time in a long time with him standing right there in front of you, in all his shirtless glory — the defined lines of his pecs and abs, the veins protruding from his arms, and the few purple bruises you’d left on the dips of his collarbones. It’s always been hard to think straight around him, you realize, with the way his presence gives you a comforting buzz and that warm, fuzzy feeling in your stomach.

Tyson’s quiet as he watches over you, he licks his lips in thought, a silent hum of agreement coming out. He’s in the exact same boat, the outcome of this conversation not one he’s too scared of, knowing that the way he feels is reciprocated, but rather what the next step is with the best friend you two share. He’s leaning closer into you, a small smile as he places another soft kiss on your lips. It’s one you get lost in, gentle and blissful as your lips move slowly against his. He pulls away first, something he wasn’t able to do last night, before finally being able to put his thoughts into words.

“I just want to make sure we’re on the same page with this. We’re taking a big risk doing this behind JT’s back and I want you to know, no matter what, the risk is worth it with you,” he starts, voice soft and still scratchy from the morning. “And I know you don’t date because you put yourself first and if that’s what you want to do then I’m okay with that, too.”

Your heart melts at the words, your hands cradling his face. Tyson’s always been better with words and feelings than you have over your short friendship with him. The metaphorical door is already wide open in front of you, it’s just a matter of taking that one more small step through it with Tyson, or shutting it and never turning back.

“I don’t date because most people don’t like having independent girls as their girlfriend’s. I put time into myself to be the best person I can be, not only for myself but for others and they don’t like that stuff,” you start to explain, your hands falling from his face to hold both of his hands. “I like you, a lot, Tys, and I want to be with you.”

He smiles wildly at that, the doubt draining from his eyes as he opens his mouth to respond.

You interrupt him though, with a huff of air as you continue speaking, “But JT’s my best friend and I don’t want to hurt him either.”

And Tyson fully understands where you’re coming from, because he’s been struggling with that for the past few months ever since he met you. He thinks back to that conversation on the plane all that time ago and how JT firmly told him to not try anything, but now as he really thinks about it, he’s not sure he meant it because of him and that it was more so because he cared for you and didn’t want to see you get hurt in general.

You can see in his eyes that same wide open door you’re thinking about, the one where you get to explore a relationship with the quirky, optimistic, competitive guy in front of you. The guy that matches your level of confidence as you, the guy that lets you be stubborn and lets you live out that stubbornness because he’s the most patient person you’ve ever met.

The decision’s easy as he stands in front of you, putting the ball in your court, your lip caught between your teeth. He’s waiting for you then, waiting for you to walk through that door or close it and walk out of his apartment. He’s hopeful, knowing that last night wasn’t a fluke and that all the kisses you’ve already shared are real and full of passion and those feelings you’ve been dancing around.

That’s when you give in, wrapping your legs around his torso and pulling him into you with that toothy smile of yours as you place your lips on his hungrily. It’s a kiss full of teeth as he smiles against you, his hands coming to cradle your face as you kiss. It’s much more addicting now that you’re sober and you fully agree with Tyson’s comment from last night about how he’s never going to want to stop kissing you.

You decide later that day that there’s no rush in telling JT, instead opting to see how things go between the two of you for a few weeks. Those two weeks are full of plenty of quality time, a coincidental home stand falling during that time meaning you get him to yourself before facing the reality that is how much he travels. You’re sure you can handle everything the new relationship can throw at you, the honeymoon phase lasting long as the two of you skirt around how you’ll tell JT whenever that time comes.

“I need to leave now if I want to leave for the rink and not see JT,” Tyson warns, prying away from your warm body in bed. You whined in response, wanting to have his warmth for just a little while longer. You let him escape from your grasp, only after asking for one too many kisses. You follow him out into your kitchen, watching him as he pulls on his shoes and finds his keys.

“You sure I can’t get you to stay for at least a cup of coffee?” You muse, giving it one more shot to spend time with him before your work week starts. You make your way to where he’s lingering in your entryway, looking extra cozy with his hood over his messy head of curls. You wrap your arms around his middle, slipping your hands under the cotton of his hoodie to feel his skin against yours.

He leans down to place a soft kiss on your lips, giggling when you follow him as he pulls away, “I really need to get going.”

“Fine,” you hum. “I’ll see you when you get back from Dallas?”

Tyson nods his head with a hum in answer, finally pulling open your front door to get to his car downstairs in the garage without running into JT. But luck isn’t on his side this morning and he gives you one more goodbye hug and kiss in the doorway before shutting the door behind him and coming face to face with a certain redheaded teammate a few feet down.

JT’s eyebrows are knitted as he takes his key out of the lock. His mouth opens a few times in confusion before any words come out. “What was that?”

Tyson doesn’t think he’s ever been at such a loss for words as he is right now. He looks between the door he just shut and his friend a few times, trying to wrap his brain around what this scene looks like. It’s not even 8:30 in the morning on Sunday, and to anyone, this looks like the start of a walk of shame.

“Uh, y/n and I were hanging out and we fell asleep so she let me sleep in her guest room,” Tyson lies. He hopes it’s convincing, his voice didn’t waver but his hands flailed around a little more than normal when he talks and he scratched his beard, something he always does when he’s nervous.

“I’m pretty sure I just saw you kiss her,” JT explains, voice stern as he completely turns to look at Tyson. “And you don’t just kiss people goodbye.”

Tyson stumbles over an explanation for that, no logical reason coming to mind.

“You were just kissing y/n!” JT exclaims, a rise in his voice as he starts to fill in the blanks. Now he’s starting to connect the dots of your tendency to bail on him on the nights you’d normally hang out and Tyson’s lack of interest in guys’ night or after game celebrations with the team. The giggling he would hear through the wall late at night, the girly squeals, and the few times he remembered hearing the bedpost hit against your shared wall a little too hard for his liking. “You just fucking kissed my best friend after I told you to not get involved with her!”

Tyson moves to close the distance between him and his best friend, but JT takes one back, effectively cancelling it out. Tyson’s opening and closing his mouth, trying to figure out the best course of action for this premature conversation. The two of you had just figured everything out in the past few days, telling JT about your newfound relationship hadn’t even come up in conversation yet.

“How long has this been going on for?”

“Barely two weeks,” Tyson stutters out, watching as JT’s face fills with more anger. “Comph, just let me explain,” he tries again, but JT just shakes his head and heads for the doorway for the stairwell instead of the elevator. It’s a huge flight of stairs given that he lives on the 11th floor of the building. He wants to follow his friend, but knows that space is what he needs and instead presses the button for the elevator and gets in, leaving him alone in his thoughts.

When he meets up with him at the rink, JT’s still avoiding him which is hard considering their stalls are only separated by one other in the locker room. Cale hadn’t even made it to the rink yet, so someone wasn’t even there to put up a wall between the two. Gabe takes notice as he walks around the room after taping his ankles, his eyebrows knitting at the fact that Tyson, who’s normally cheery even this early in the morning and bugging JT, is putting on his pads and skates with his mouth shut.

It’s something Gabe puts in the back of his mind, just thinking that Tyson had a rough night or morning. It’s during morning skate that Gabe, and almost everyone else, notices something is off between the pair. JT doesn’t chirp him like normal when they take face-offs against one another, he’s not by his side in between drills, and JT sticks his stick out a little too far during a one-on-one, sending Tyson to the ice during a drill that no one should be falling during. Bednar thinks nothing of it, just telling Tyson to stay on his two feet.

Practice eventually ends but the silent treatment between the two continues. JT’s uncharacteristically quiet to everyone that talks to him, something clearly on his mind. Meanwhile Tyson’s nerves are causing him to not shut up as Cale shares a story about his rough commute this morning.

As Tyson and Cale quiet down, Gabe steps in, pointing between the two of them, “What’s up with you two today?”

“Nothing,” Tyson lies quickly, not wanting anyone else to get involved in this. Even if their captain is just trying to help, Tyson’s not sure there’s anything Gabe can say to help.

JT scoffs, tying his shoes before standing up, “He’s fucking my best friend.” Cale, who was taking him leisurely time with getting dressed suddenly stands up and crosses the room to where Gravy was, avoiding any possible conflict.

Gabe’s eyes pop out of his head as Tyson responds, “we’re not fucking.”

“So the banging into my wall last night wasn’t you?” JT asks in an accusatory tone.

“Well, we’re not like,” Tyson starts, gesturing his hands in front of his body in a way to finish that sentence, soon realizing he doesn’t want to add fuel to fire by saying he was in fact fucking his best friend last night. “It’s not just that, we’re together.”

Gabe, who thought this was probably a misunderstanding of one of Tyson’s pranks or even just JT not winning a stupid bet, is just as shocked as JT was a few hours agao when he saw two of his best friends kissing. The captain isn’t entirely sure of how to navigate this situation, one that hasn’t really happened in any of his locker rooms. He doesn’t have much else to say to the two of them other than to figure it out and that a girl shouldn’t get between two friends that are as close as they are.

With that, Tyson’s trying to apologize to JT, tell him that there’s more to the story but JT wants nothing of it, and is throwing his jacket on and running out the door. Everything in Tyson’s being wants to follow him back to his place and beg for him to hear him out, but instead he’s racing back to your place, ignoring the fact that he still has to pack for their quick road trip.

Tyson all about sprints up the 11 flights of stairs to your door, knocking on your door with urgency until the door swings open. You move to the side as you let him in, clearly seeing how frantic he is with his flushed cheeks and the excessive knocking.

“JT saw me leave this morning,” Tyson lets out, a little out of breath from his run up the stairs. Tyson’s waiting for you to respond but you’re still not getting it. “He saw me kiss you goodbye and then didn’t talk to me all practice then when Landy confronted us he was just like ‘Tyson’s fucking my best friend’ and I tried to explain but-”

“Tys,” you interrupt his rambling, taking a step forward to reach out to him. Your hands grab his in an attempt to ground him, your thumbs rubbing back and forth on the back of his hands. “It’ll be okay.”

“He literally tripped me in practice today!”

“That’s because he can be a petty asshole. He doesn’t hate you, he probably just feels betrayed because he didn't know any of this was going on.” You try to console him, pushing all of your anxieties and paranoia aside to deal with the panicking boy in front of you.

“Let me talk to him, you need to go home and pack for your road trip since I know you haven’t yet.”

“But,”

“I’ll come over right after and update you, I promise.”

WIth that, Tyson kisses you goodbye as you push him to the elevator with a promise that everything is going to be okay before giving yourself a pep talk and bursting into JT’s apartment next to yours.

He spots you before you can greet him and you can see quite a few different feelings crossing over his face.

“Oh, God, are you here to also tell me that you’re not just fucking my best friend, too?” JT scoffs, causing your heart to plummet into your ass. “I really don’t want to listen to any excuses you may have about this.”

“Stop being an asshole for just one second and let me explain,” you reprimand him, already over the fact that your so-called best friend won’t even hear you out. “How is this any different from the countless times you tried to set me up with your friends? Is this not the same thing?”

It’s a genuine question that shuts up JT, because really, it’s not much different in your eyes. For over a year now, JT’s been showing you pictures of buddies he has from back home or from college or even friends of friends that he’d think would suit you. You had always turned him down because to you, dating wasn’t something you wanted other people to really interfere with, even if some of his friends were young, successful, bachelor types.

“Because it’s Tyson,” JT answers simply with a shrug of his shoulders. You look at him, hands clenching at your sides with the vague and uninterested tone. He’s barely even looking at you as he tidies up his kitchen, something he always did when trying to fill silence.

“What the fuck is that even supposed to mean?” You ask incredulously. “You’ve told me a million times he’s one of the best people you’ve ever met.” You bite your tongue from adding a comment about how he is one of the best people you’ve also met.

“The other guys weren’t professional athletes, it’s pretty simple from how I see it.”

“But you could set me up with your friends from Chicago and New York and Michigan but I find one of your friends here in Denver then it’s off limits? Because he plays a sport for a living? If that’s the case then I shouldn’t be friends with you either.” It’s a low blow, you know that, but it finally catches his attention as he drops the cloth he’s wiping the counter with. His eyes finally connect with yours and it’s then he finally notices how hurt you are by the lack of emotion in both his words and his body language. There are tears in your eyes as you look up at the ceiling to try and even your breathing.

“It's an honor for anyone to have a place in my life JT and that includes you,” you continue. “Tyson understands that. He understands that I'm my own person before anything else but he’s still there when I'm stubborn. I've been single for so long and I truly know what I want, what I deserve to feel and I get that with him.”

You often don’t get this deep with the red head, but his lack of wanting to understand you has you emotional as you think of all the benefits of being with Tyson. The few months of being his friend were a perfect build up to the past few weeks of it being more, of sharing a life with someone else.

“You know him better than most people and if you can honestly tell me he’s no good for me right now then I’ll end it,” you suggest, your heart beating fast as you wait for an answer. JT has come to be one of your best friends in your life, even if he is just your neighbor, and at this moment it’s hard to think of putting a guy between you. Even if that guy is the first guy you’ve really felt this way towards.

“I’m not gonna tell you that,” JT admits with a heavy sigh. He makes his way across the room to you before continuing. “He’s my best friend, too, and if there’s anyone that knows everything about both of you, it’s me. I guess I just felt like you were hiding a secret from me and we don’t do that, ya know? I just wish you could’ve told me.”

You laugh snidely at that, “Do you not remember like two months ago when I told you I thought Tyson was cute and you shot that down before I was even done talking?”

The wheels turn and the light bulb goes off in JT’s brain as he remembers that conversation from a while back, “I won’t confirm nor deny that I said that.”

The both of you laugh lightheartedly at that, pulling him in for a much needed hug, both of you apologizing to the other. The weight on your shoulders is liften as he pulls away, thankful for the fact that you have such an understanding person for a best friend.

“You want to watch an episode of Psych? I think we can fit one in before I have to leave.”

You contemplate it, knowing that a few miles away Tyson is in his apartment panicking as he waits for some sort of update from you. You know you need to tell him how your conversation just went, but something inside you is telling you that JT needs you to spend time with him to normalize everything.

“Sure,” you smile, walking over to his couch and laying on it long ways, forcing JT to sit by himself in his chair. You pull out your phone to text Tyson, smiling as you type out an explanation.

y/n: just finished talking to jt y/n: everything’s good but i think i need to just hang out with him to make him feel better about everything tyson: you sure? y/n: yes, ill call you when he leaves for the airport💚

Everything gets sorted out when you call Tyson an hour later, calming his nerves as you give him a detailed play-by-play of everything that was said between you and JT. The comfortable silence before you hang up is almost filled with him telling you he loves you, but he knows he needs to talk to JT first and needs to tell you in person, and not over the phone as he boards a flight.

The flight was filled with awkward air as most of the guys saw what happened with Tyson and JT in the locker room when practice ended that morning, and even if they weren’t there for that, they felt the tension between them. It’s not until a few hours later when Tyson’s doing his hair before the game when he hears a knock on his hotel door.

He swings the door open to see JT, his hands shoved in his short pockets as he stares right back at Tyson.

“Can we talk?”

“Uh, yeah,” he responds nervously, stepping out of the way to let his friend through the door. The two of them awkwardly stand a few feet away, that meme about two straight guys sitting six feet away in a hot tub because they’re not gay going through Tyson’s brain.

“I, uh, wanted to apologize about everything earlier. I’ll admit, I overreacted a bit and I shouldn’t have tripped you in practice. It was just a lot to take in, especially because I didn’t really know that you two were that close. And I feel like a bad friend now for not knowing that.”

JT’s apology is way more than what Tyson thought he would get from his friend. He knew yours and his conversation went well, but that didn’t mean he still wasn’t scared JT was going to punch him or yell at him or literally anything that wasn’t an amicable conversation between two adults.

“It’s fine, man. It’s on us for keeping you in the dark on this one and I’m sorry for that. I think we barely knew what was going on until it was all happening,” Tyson starts to explain. He’s trying not to look at his feet, knowing that JT needs to see the feelings in his face, those feelings that are very much real to him.

“And it’s real for you? It’s not a game? Because I swear to God, Tyson.” JT darts, voice stern.

“God, no, this isn’t a game to me JT,” Tyson answers quickly, head shaking in disgust at the thought. “I’m not just trying to bag her and call it some accomplishment or whatever you think this is. If that was the case I wouldn’t even be having this conversation with you and you’d already hate me,” he shudders at those words, unable to ever think he could do any wrong to you. “You told me a while ago that it’s no bullshit with her and I know that because it isn’t for me either.”

JT takes a seat on the bed in the room as his friend speaks, taking it all in. It’s a lot for him to take in, but Tyson really is one of the best people he’s ever met and he has little to no doubt that he’s telling the truth about how he feels. If the tears brimming your eyes earlier in the day said anything, you feel the exact same way. The room is silent once Tyson is done talking, his nerves causing him to be quiet for once as JT figures out his next move.

“I hear one bad bad thing from y/n, then it’s over,” JT warns, Tyson nodding his head along in agreement. “And if the guys start talking about your sex life I will be cutting your dick off.”

“Got it.”

“Okay, now that that’s out of the way, how’d you get her to go for you? I’ve been trying to get her a guy for forever.”

“Easy, have you seen my charming smile?” Tyson jokes with that crooked smirk of his, happy to see that JT is already moving on from that heavy stuff and onto best friend stuff. JT rolls his eyes heavily at the joke, a light ‘shut up’ coming out as he laughs.

Tyson explains everything then, the same wide smile on his face he had when he scored his first hat trick. He tells JT about how he wined and dined you on more than one occasion, how he learned those little, obscure things about you that you caught you off guard whenever he remembered them, and most importantly, just spent uninterrupted time with you, getting to know the ins and outs of your life. To Tyson, getting you to open up to him was difficult yet still a tranquil thing to do. The latter severely outweighed the former, as the sense of serenity he felt with you would always overpower any of those harder moments.

The team returns to Denver two days later, a quick road trip to Dallas and St Louis in the books with the regular season ending within the week. You can see that it’s that time of the year on both JT and Tyson’s face, their eyes a little more sunken in with the back half push, even if they’ve already clinched the playoffs. There’s only a few more games left to round out March and the beginning of April, the guys’ still waiting on their round one opponent.

Tyson heads straight for your place when the plane touches down late Wednesday night. You’d talked to him every day for the past few days, but not being able to see him much after JT finding out caused a lot of anxiety for the both of you. The problem may be solved with that, but seeing the other would just give you that little extra push that this was the right thing to do.

Tyson enters your apartment quietly, dropping his backpack and suit jacket down onto the nearby couch as he navigates his way through your apartment in the dark. The light of your string lights in your bedroom illuminates the hallway, soft sounds coming from your phone as Tyson walks in on you laying on your side.

“Hey,” he gently greets with a smile, pausing in the doorway to admire you. You set your phone down, turning around to face the man leaning against the door frame.

You smile just as wide as he does, responding with just as gentle of a ‘hey’. That anxiety you felt over the course of the last few days instantly dissolving at the sight of the man in your doorway.

“Why’re you standing all the way over there?” You ask with a pout.

“I can’t just look at you?” Tyson laughs, making his way over to you slowly. He joins you in bed, crawling over you like he’s still not dressed in one of his expensive custom suits.

“Not when I haven’t seen you in a few days,” you complain with a giggle, the same pout still glued to your face. He places a quick kiss on your lips in response, giving into your silent ask while also erasing that puppy dog look from your face. You’d only officially been with Tyson a few weeks now, the butterflies still heavily present in your stomach everytime your lips meet his.

“Do you not have clothes to change into?” You ask, referring to the crisp white button down he’s still wearing. He nods his head no against yours,

“Only what’s dirty from the roadie. Besides, I plan on being naked here pretty soon,” he smirks playfully. The comment has you shoving him off you with a roll of your eyes, only causing him to laugh loudly at your reaction. You know he’s partly kidding, using that as an excuse to get up from bed to go to the bathroom.

When you emerge from the bathroom, he’s finally shed his clothes and is under your covers. He opens his arms for you to snuggle into him. You do, resting your head on his bicep as he wraps both of his arms back around you.

“I missed you,” you let out. “Because I didn’t know what was gonna happen when you got back with everything going on with JT.”

“I missed you, too, but I’ve always missed you when we left for road trips,” he responds, letting you in on a little secret that clues you in once again to how real this is and how long it’s truly been going on for. “He’s fine with everything, he just told me we can’t act too much like a couple around him.”

You chuckle at that because of course that was the part JT focused on when they talked. As you look up at him, your heart is full and your head still has that same fuzzy feeling it always has when you’re around him. With him you’ve never really felt lonely, something you often felt even when you were around people before him. Those love songs you once heard on the radio that annoyed you no longer do, and instead you welcome them when they play spontaneously in the car or at the bar and parties or even at Avalanche games.

The thoughts swimming around in your head have you swinging your leg over him, straddling his hips with his hands on your waist and yours on his ribs. That doe-eyed smile he has is focused on you, a grin spreading over your face at the way everything’s worked out with him. Your heart flutters as he gently squeezes your side, a small squeak coming out. He leans up on his elbows then, admiring the view he has of you. He slowly yet full-heartedly fell for you over the time he’s known you and you can see it in the way his gaze turns soft and as the quirkiness drops from his expression.

You’ve slowly fallen in love with the man underneath you, too, and you lean down to kiss him one more time. It’s slow like they always seem to be with him in scenarios like this, where it’s just the two of you and the sounds of your breathing.

The playoffs fly by quickly with the pace they’re winning at, a WAG jacket wrapped tightly around your shoulders to every game you make it to. A new one is shoved into your hands at the start of the Stanley Cup playoffs, Mel telling you it’s a special occasion that calls for a new jacket, even if it is just for a series and even though you’ve just barely broken in your first one.

You go into that offseason with your newly crowned Stanley Cup Champion of a boyfriend, flying out to Chicago over the summer for JT’s day with the cup and spending a whole week in St. Albert when its Tyson’s turn with it.

And that picture frame you never found a picture for that’s hanging up on your wall by your TV? It’s been occupied now with a photo of you sandwiched between JT and Tyson on the ice after Game 6 against the Tampa Bay Lightning, the Cup on the ice in front of the three of you, faces full of glee with confetti falling around you.

Plus One

The pitter patter of small feet running along the hardwood floors of the hallway, followed by a squeal of ‘daddy’ has you setting your glass down and following after her. Your daughter’s giggle is heard through the house, the familiar sound of your husband dropping his bags by the front door following soon after.

“What’re you still doing up, baby girl?” Tyson chastises the four year old as you round the corner to find the two of them still by the door, your daughter in Tyson’s arms as he gives her a kiss.

“Sage said she wouldn’t go to bed until daddy came home for story time,” you answer for Sage. She only giggles in response.

“How about you go get in bed and mommy and daddy will come tell you a story in a minute?” Tyson asks, playing with her little fingers.

“Okay daddy!” She agrees instantly, running all the way up the stairs and down the hall to her bedroom. The brown curls she got from Tyson bounce as she runs, your heart warming at the heavy resemblance she has to her father.

“How are you doing, baby?” Tyson hums as you give him the usual welcome home kiss, his hand coming to rest on your protruding stomach.

“Good, the back pain is much more manageable now, but I’m still going to the bathroom every hour it seems like,” you shrug as you answer. He’d been on the longest road trip of the season so far, one that means the season is almost over. You’d tried extremely hard this time around to get pregnant at the right time so your next child would arrive during the offseason and not in the middle of the conference finals like your first did a few years ago.

“Soon enough we’ll have her running and occupying all of Sage’s free time,” Tyson muses, the two of you making your way to your bedroom so he could change into comfier clothes. You smile at the thought of Sage finally having a little sister to play with and hopefully become best friends with.

When you don’t get to Sage’s room fast enough, she’s racing into yours and Tyson’s room and plopping down onto your spacious bed. You join her, Tyson following, knowing that she’d much rather be sandwiched between the two of you than in her tiny bed in her own room. She leans into her dad’s side, something she’s always done, but you don’t mind — you love seeing them get so close.

“Did you bring a book, sweetie?” You ask her, taming some of her curls.

“No, tell me the story of how you met daddy again,” she proposes, causing you and Tyson to share a look. It’s her favorite story, one she asks you to relay to her at least once a week, and the one she asks for the most when Tyson’s been gone.

The two of you tell the story to her anyway, taking turns as you tell her how upset Uncle JT was about the two of you dating, all the way to the jokes he made sure to make when he gave a speech at your wedding six years ago now.

#tyson jost imagine #alex writes #nhl imagine #hockey writing #when i post this i’ll be at work lmao i’m really posting it then dipping

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remakethestars · 3 years

Text

Being Damian Wayne's Twin Sister Would Include:

Headcanons.

❝Exactly. I don't ask my dog to drive, and I don't ask the Justice League to solve my problems.❞

— Damian Wayne, Adventures of the Super Sons #9: Showdown on Hexworld

TRIGGER WARNING: Cursing, (Damian’s) death. Mentions of toxic masculinity and internalized misogyny, nightmares, blood, knives.

Headcanon masterlist.

When people ask you, “So, which one of you is the evil twin?” Damian always glowers, and you always motion to him.

You look disturbingly alike when only your eyes are showing; Damian’s got long lashes. Talia taught you a good tactic for tag-teaming in combat as kids was to pull up your hinged balaclavas and make the enemy think there was only one of you, that they’re seeing double.

Or for one of you to hang back while the other attacks as a distraction before the other knocks them out from behind.

Obviously, this won’t work when the two of you start filling out, but it works when you’re kids. It’s the reason why, even off the field, the two of you usually wear a matching outfits with hoods.

You utilize the same methods when she sends you to live with Bruce.

You don the Robin costume just like he does, much to the rest of the Batfam’s confusion (both because they weren’t expecting it and because they can’t tell you apart either), but sticking with the “red” theme, you go by Redstart.

There’s a rumor on the street that Robin V. is a meta that can teleport.

The two of you are freakishly good at mimicking the other’s voice and mannerisms, which makes it even harder for your family.

Jason tells you two about April Fools Day, and you make the most of it. Of course, Damian’s a pain in the a$$ and decides to go around pretending to be you and getting into trouble. You’re banned from the mall, and you still have no idea why.

The two of you can communicate with just an impassive expression (Dick says it looks like a prime example of twin telepathy to anyone else), but anyone close to you knows sh¡t’s about to hit the fan when the two of you look at each other and smirk.

If it’s something you can’t communicate nonverbally, you use your cryptophasia.

Cryptophasia is a language developed by twins when they’re learning to talk. Most of them grow out of it, you and Damian decided to keep developing it so it became more of a conlang. No one else has been taught to speak it, and they never will be. It’s for emergencies only.

Sun Tzu’s The Art of War was your Bible growing up, and the two of you call out verses when you fight together and need the other to understand a tactic (you both inherited Bruce’s eidetic memory, so you’ve got it memorized).

When you get too big to pull off the which-is-which game, you make your own costume and become the true Redstart.

It’s basically Damian’s Robin uniform (the Super Sons’s version is the only one I’ll accept), but the boots and gloves are black, the biceps have a white stripe, the lining of the cape is white (the lining of the hood is black), the gold accents become white, it has a zipper down the front instead of clasps, and the mask becomes black (including the eyes). The waterline of the eyes is white. Like a painted redstart.

If Damian’s into animals, you’re into plants. The two of you find common ground on the fact that pollution sucks, so when you walk Titus, you take a trash bag and gloves with you to pick up litter as you go.

You did not want to go to Jon’s school.

Not because you don’t like Jon (because you do), but because you know you could run intellectual circles around every one of those snot-nosed brats.

School is stupid. Especially because the American education system is subpar; everything about it is.

You hardly pay attention in class. You do all of the homework a week ahead of time incase something comes up. Usually you’re doing next week’s homework in class. You’ve written entire papers on your phone in Google Docs in the middle of class to be printed out later.

If you’ve already done everything, Damian’s usually drawing and you’re daydreaming or you’re working on a case on your phone.

The teachers are always trying to catch you not paying attention, but you little sh¡ts can always answer their questions.

Damian’s closest with Dick, but you’re closest with Tim. You admire his ability to plan ahead (see the entirety of the Red Robin comics), and you know that he’s better than both your father and your grandfather; you want to be as good as him when you grow up.

It takes a long time to wash the toxic masculinity and internalized misogyny our of your head, to learn that your grandfather’s ideas of “strength” were wrong, that it’s okay to lean on someone besides Damian, that you can be just as strong as your brother and still be feminine, that there are acceptable emotions besides anger.

Actually, your father teaches you that anger is more likely to get you killed. He won’t let you go into the field when he knows your angry.

It’s harder to drill out of you than your instinct to kill.

There’s a Lebanese restaurant called Tarbooshes (Teen Titans Special #1) the two of you go to when you’re feeling homesick. They make ox blood soup the same way your mother did, and it’s the only non-vegetarian thing Damian will eat for that very reason.

It’s nice to have a place to go where they know you by name and know what you want when you tell them “the usual.” It’s nice to have a place where you’re not a Wayne or an Al Ghul, where you’re just [Y/N] and Damian.

You disappear for an hour on your birthday to eat there. Bruce has asked you were you go, but you kept that between the two of you.

Speaking of birthdays, you’re eleven minutes older than him. He was six pounds and ten ounces (Batman & Robin #0?), and you were a solid seven.

After Damian died, you go to Tarbooshes to feel close to him.

You were doing all right with the no-killing thing until the night Damian died.

Heretic never stood a chance.

He looked so much like Damian it gave you nightmares, though. Nightmares where you killed your twin brother and woke up sobbing.

Damian didn’t give you a speech in his last moments. He just looked over at you and said in your cryptophasia, “I’m sorry.”

Not “I love you.” Not “Take care of them for me.” You knew that; you’d do that. He didn’t have to tell you, and he didn’t have to ask.

Just “I’m sorry.” Sorry that you were the one that was left behind.

It’s one thing to lose a family member, to lose a friend, or to lose a lover. It’s another to lose half of your soul.

The two of you had always feared you would die apart. It had always been a possibility; you weren’t stupid enough to think, “It’ll never happen to me.” Because it definitely could.

And it had.

You wanted to run away from everything. Even just for a while. Go to one of your safe houses in London or France or whatever and just — you didn’t know — stare at the wall until you felt better? But you’d made that unspoken promise to Damian — “I’ll take care of them for you; don’t worry.” — to take care of Titus and Catfred and Jerry and Batcow and Goliath, to take care of Alfred and Bruce and Dick and Jason and Cassandra and Tim, to take care of Jon and Colin and Maps.

You avoided the cave. And if you had to go down there for some reason, you refused to look at the Robin suits.

Dick noticed. He asked if you wanted them taken down, even just for a while. You gave him a look like he was nuts and said, “No.”

Jon was a mess. More of a mess than you were, somehow.

You’d shown up at the Kents’s. Jon was out doing Superboy things with Clark and Conner. Lois was the only one home.

You nearly scared her out of her skin when you materialized behind her and asked, “Is Jon home? It’s important.”

He had to know first. He deserved to.

For all he put up with from you two, he deserved to be the first to know when one of you was f*cking dead.

Lois, of course, bless her heart, had the mom instincts to know that you were in no way, shape, or form okay even when you were trying so hard to hold yourself together. She asked you what’s wrong, and it’s what made you break.

Your lip trembled. “He’s gone.”

“Who’s gone?”

“Damian,” your voice broke. “He’s dead.”

Jon came home to find you in his living room in your Robin uniform, covered in Damian’s and Heretic’s blood, snot running down your lip, sobbing in his mothers arms and knew what happened without having to ask. He did anyway.

When you and Jon both finally passed out, your Uncle Clark flew you back to the Batcave. No one was in any condition — not even Alfred — so he carried you up to your room; took your boots, mask, cape, and gloves off; and tucked you in. Then he went to find Bruce because there was no doubt he was losing it too.

Bruce doesn’t tell you anything about trying to find a way to bring him back without the Lazarus pit because he doesn’t want to get your hopes up.

You walk into your room one day to find Damian sitting there reading the dissertation (the requirement was three pages, not 120, but your teacher would just have to deal with your coping mechanisms) you had been working on for your World History class and left up on your laptop while on patrol.

He said with the utmost indifference, “You’ve made some good points, Sister,” and, of course, you pulled out a knife and attacked him because this was — was — was some shapeshifting alien or hologram tech or a cruel joke — your twin was dead, this wasn’t funny, whoever did this was going to pay.

He met you blow-for-blow and flipped away from you before saying, “And here I was expecting a warm welcome,” in your cryptophasia.

“Brother?”

“Tt. Obviously.”

Yeah, a college level thesis. You’re smart. You inherited Bruce’s eidetic memory and were raised by assassins.

You learned seven languages and wrote five doctoral theses by the time your teeth came in, wrote your first letter to a newspaper editor when you were two, could’ve had a geology doctorate when you were seven (Super Sons #1), and it only took you a week to learn the language on Takron-Galtos. You’re smart.

You’re also incredibly skilled. You learned to drive when you were five (Super Sons #1), your mother trained you to go for weeks without eating (Adventures of the Super Sons #6), you can micro-sleep for days and converse with half your brain asleep, can use a muscular contraction to move your liver out of the way of a blade (Nightwing #20), and can place yourself in a deep trance to heal damages caused by a hematoma (also #20).

(My dumba$$ didn’t note what Super Sons/Adventure of the Super Sons comic I was reading when I took notes, so I don’t have all of them noted in the two above bullet points. But that’s where they’re from. If I end up rereading them, I’ll edit this and add the comic numbers.)

The first time on patrol you thought Bruce was gonna die, you called him Baba.

The next evening, when Dick came to visit the cave, he turned to you and Damian and asked, “So, which one of you called him Dad?”

“How’d you know?” you asked.

“He’s smiling the way he did the day I called him Tati.”

“He’s not smiling,” Damian pointed out.

“He is on the inside.”

Can we talk about how royally the Arkham Knights game screwed up Tim Drake? (Though, everything seems to screw up Tim one way or another, I guess.) Why does he look like a quidditch player in the gif above the cut?

Visit my headcanon masterlist.

DISCLAIMER ━━━ I’m a dumb white American, and I don’t know much about Arab or Romani culture other than what I’ve learned online. I hope I got it right?? If I didn’t, please drop a comment or P.M. me or something to let me know!

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whumperooni · 4 years

Text

Scorched

Pairing: Enji x Reader

Word count: 7.2k

Tags/Warnings: A/B/O; tw breeding kink; tw noncon/dubcon; tw angst/no happy ending; rough sex; tw dumbification (i think?)

A/N: Uhhh, this ended up a lot different than I originally intended. I might do a rewrite in the future/alternate ending? Who knows! Sorry for the angst at the end;;;;

“....Natsuo? Are you- are you sure this is really okay?” You feel bad for asking, but you can’t help letting the question slip out- it feels so...not wrong per say, but it feels so very much like you’re intruding as you look at the looming Todoroki estate. It’s so big- fancy and traditional, beautiful and intimidating- and you bite your lip in worry as you eye it, grip your suitcase tighter. Someone like you doesn’t belong in a place so grand. “Of course it’s okay! Fuyumi was psyched when I told her you were gonna stay the weekend with us!” Natsuo pops his head out from the trunk of the cab and he sends an easy grin your way- sweet, but doing little to ease your nerves. “But, um…what about your dad?” you mumble, shuffling in place and sending the home in front of you an anxious glance. “I don’t think...I don’t think he’d want some random stranger-” “It’s fine.” It’s curt, his voice. Cold. You flinch from it and guilt pokes at you- you know your friend has...issues with his father (though he won’t really talk about them) and you feel bad about bringing up someone that upsets him. (Though, it is a fair question- the house belongs to Enji Todoroki. And you really don’t want to get on the number one hero’s bad side.) You bite your lip, head ducking, and miss the way that Natsuo’s eyes soften at your submittance. You do catch the sigh he lets out, though, and the way his hand falls to the top of your head. He offers another smile- something smaller and a little tired, somewhat less easy than the first- and he pets your hair with a gentle touch that almost has you purring. “It’s fine,” he tells you- softer and without the ice from before. “I promise. Dad is never home and, well, even if he does come home, it’ll be okay. It’s really no big deal.” You doubt that, but you don’t protest anymore- you just nod your head like a good girl and offer him a hesitant smile in return. “Okay, Natsuo,” you mumble. You force your smile a little bigger and take a breath, nod again. “Besides, we’re already here.” When your smile grows this time, it’s more natural. “And I can’t possibly pass up your sister’s famous cooking.” Natsuo grins and he ruffles your hair, grabs your suitcase before pulling away. “C’mon then- Fuyumi’s waitin’ for us.” You huff, but you follow after him- smiling just a little to yourself despite the nerves quietly jittering and fading away underneath your skin. You have always wondered what Natsuo’s family home looks like. And you’ve really wanted to meet Fuyumi after hearing so much about her from her brother. She seems nice, enthusiastic and you really do want to get to know someone that’s so important to your friend- it’ll be nice to finally meet her. You smile at the thought and step through the gateway and onto the Todoroki estate. You immediately seize up and freeze. Everything smells like...cinnamon whiskey. Cigars. Hot metal. Scorching, fierce, searing heat. It smells like alpha. (It smells good.) “...you okay?” You startle- eyes wide and hands shaking. You hadn’t realized that you had stopped- hadn’t realized that you had frozen up like a newly presented omega smelling an alpha for the first time. You touch the scent blocker plastered to your neck and breathe in deep through your mouth, try to gather yourself before Natsuo can worry even more. (What a pathetic, embarrassing response. You’ve been presented for so long now- you should be used to these things. You shouldn’t be frozen and startled with beads of sweat prickling at your hairline, your heart pounding in a frenzy against your rib cage. ….but god, though, that scent is something else- faint now that you’ve gotten used to it but still so...so… So striking. Just a whiff had frozen you in place and you know it’s just from the way Enji-san has marked the territory with a fierce, protective nature but, still, that’s remarkable. A little scary. It makes you nervous over how you’d react if you ran into the real thing.) You gulp and your fingers press tighter against your neck, push at your blocker as if it’ll make it work even better. ...you should probably take another suppressor soon. (You really hope they’ll withstand Endeavor if he comes home.) A shaky breath and you force a smile on your face, wrap your arms around yourself as you take a trembling step forward. “S-Sorry,” you apologize, a breathless laugh leaving you. It sounds quivering and overwhelmed- something so embarrassing. You fluster and hurry forward until you’re by Natsuo’s side, look up at him with wide eyes and flushed cheeks. “I’m okay.” He eyes you, puzzled, and you feel a rush of gratitude that he’s a beta- that he can’t catch your overwhelmed scent that’s flared up at his father’s own scent. (You can only imagine how well that would go if he were to find out.) “I’m fine, I promise,” you tell him more earnestly. You wrap your hands around his arm and flash him a big smile, hope that’s enough to erase his worry. “Let’s hurry so we can settle in and I can meet your big sis, huh?” Natsuo eyes you, but he nods and starts walking, tugs you along toward the waiting home. “Yeah, come on,” he says with a faint smile. “Let’s go.” You walk with him and try to ignore the fluttering in your chest, the way a scalding scent is swirling around you. ~~~~~~~~~~~ “Natsuo, I can’t believe it took so long for you to bring her here!” Natsuo grins, hand rubbing the back of his neck, and you duck your head with a smile as Fuyumi wraps you up in a quick hug. She smells nice- like vanilla and spiced oranges- and it’s almost a disappointment when she pulls away to smile down at you. “It’s so nice to finally meet you,” she tells you- warm and cheery. “Natsuo’s told me so much about you!” You blush- you can’t help it- and you gently elbow Natsuo in the side whenever he laughs. “He’s told me a lot about you too,” you say- maybe just a little shy but smiling all the same. “Fuyumi, I’m gonna go put her stuff in the guest room,” Natsuo pipes up. “Is dinner almost done?” Fuyumi nods and Natsuo grins- pleased as punch as he begins to walk away. You remember your need for suppressants and quickly reach a hand to grab onto Natsuo’s jacket, look up at him with sheepish eyes whenever he cocks a brow your way. “I, um, need something from my suitcase,” you tell him- trying not to let stray embarrassment show on your face. “I’ll go with you.” He just shrugs and you scamper after him- waving to Fuyumi with a little smile. The house is big- bigger than you had realized. It’s as nice on the inside as it is on the outside- very traditional and very simplistic, elegant. You can tell that everything is expensive and well taken care of on top of that. It’s nothing like the little house in the ‘burbs that you grew up in and, honestly, you would be lying if you said you weren’t in awe as you followed Natsuo throughout his family home. It’s so nice. You feel guilty for being in it for some reason- like your presence is going to somehow dirty such an immaculate, dignified home. It’s a ridiculous feeling, but you still find yourself sticking closer to Natsuo than you normally would, you find your hands curling up against your chest as you walk so they don’t brush against anything. “My room is just across the hall,” Natsuo informs you, pointing ahead. “So if ya need anything, you can knock.” You nod when he looks at you and eye his room in interest whenever he looks away. You’re kind of curious over what your friend’s room looks like- it’s nosey, maybe, but you can’t help but want to peek your head in and poke around. The room that Natsuo shows you to is plain- nice but plain; clearly a guest room. It’s going to be strange sleeping on a futon- you’ve always had a bed-, but somehow you’re kind of excited for it. It’s a little...novel? A new experience. “The bathroom’s down the hall on the left,” Natsuo tells you as he sets your suitcase down. You nod and he stretches his arms high above his head, shows off a sliver of a toned stomach that you politely avert your eyes from. “I’ll give you some time to settle in and then we’ll join Fuyumi for dinner?” You nod, smiling at him, and hum out a little, “Yeah, that sounds good.” Natsuo smiles in return and then he turns to leave. As soon as the door is closed behind him, you rush to your suitcase and unlock it with fumbling, clumsy hands. Enji-san’s scent is stronger inside the house- you absolutely need to make sure you take your suppressants. You paw through your suitcase looking for the little bottle of pills, getting frantic when it’s not in the side pocket you thought you had put it in. It’s not stuffed underneath your clothes or in your makeup bag either and you start to panic then, empty your suitcase onto the floor to sift through everything. It’s...it’s not there. How is it not there? An upset noise claws its way up your throat and you turn from your suitcase and toward your purse. There’s an emergency little pill case in there, but it only has two suppressants- enough for tonight and tomorrow. Not enough if Enji-san comes home. Hand clenching around the case, you swallow hard and try to calm down. Natsuo said that his father shouldn’t come home this weekend- that he’s rarely ever home. It should be fine; you should be okay. If...if he comes home, you’ll just have to make an excuse and leave. Or try to bear it- though you really doubt you’ll be able to. God, maybe you should ask Fuyumi if she has any? They won’t be near strong enough for you, but in a pinch… You’d have to explain why you need them, though, and that’s almost as embarrassing as Natsuo finding out that your oversensitive omegan senses are prickling in instinctual interest at his father’s territorial scent. God, being a fecund is such a pain. You whine to yourself softly- cheeks flushed in guilt and hand hurting from holding onto the pill case so tight. It’s an embarrassing situation, but it’s your fault for forgetting your suppressants at home so you’re just going to have to suck it up and deal with it. (And pray that the number one hero is kept busy chasing criminals all night long) You swallow and tuck your pills back into your purse, begin to put everything back into your suitcase. It’ll be okay, you tell yourself. He’s not going to come home. I’m going to be okay. Nervously, you tidy up after yourself and try to pretend that there’s nothing wet between your legs. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ “-and now my class is not allowed to have pencil grips.” You giggle, not able to help it, and hide it behind your hand, smile at Natsuo whenever he shoots you a grin. Fuyumi is unexpectedly funny- you’re really enjoying yourself. (Even with your nerves still so frayed and your instincts still trying to react to Enji-san’s strong, strong scent.) You swallow, smile wavering, and hide it with a quick drink of wine. The Todoroki’s have very good wine- of course they do. It’s a luxury for you to enjoy- you usually end up grabbing the cheapest bottle from the corner store; you hardly ever get to enjoy something top shelf. You take another sip of the wine and blush whenever Fuyumi looks over you, set it down hastily. She doesn’t say anything- only smiles gently- and that helps you relax back down, gets you smiling back at her- albeit a bit abashedly. You hope that she hasn’t picked up on your stress- it would be much, much too embarrassing if your best friend’s older sister knew that you were battling against the way their father’s scent is trying to pull you into need. “Aren’t you taking them on a field-” A trilling ring cuts Natsuo off and he huffs at that, checks his phone and then smiles apologetically at you both. “Sorry, that’s my lab mate,” he explains. “I gotta take this- we’re working on a group project.” You nod along with Fuyumi and Natsuo gets up and walks out of the room- leaving you alone with his older sister and a quick ripple of nerves that has your fingers curling into your palms. There’s quiet for a moment and you bite your lip in a sudden whip of shyness, take another sip of wine. Fuyumi merely watches and smiles at you, fingers her own glass. “Are you alright?” she asks, just a bit softly. She tucks her hair behind her ear whenever you blink at the question, bites her lip and looks almost guilty for a moment. “I, um, I know that it can be a little jarring coming here for the first time. Dad kind of...well, he kind of gets carried away with marking his territory…” Oh, fuck. You choke on your spit as your eyes widen and Fuyumi hastily raises her hands, blushes as she waves them around. “I’m sorry! I didn’t want to bring it up, but I know that it can be hard to deal with and I’m sure that Natsuo didn’t warn you! And, well, you’re a fecund so it’s worse for you and I just- I just wanted to make sure you’re okay!” Natsuo told her? Embarrassment, shame runs through you and you have to bite your lip to hide a noise that wants to sound, you dig your nails into your thighs as upset washes over you. You don’t like telling people that you’re a fecund. You don’t like people knowing that you’re such a weak, pathetic thing. Who else has he told? Worry ripples through you and there’s an undercurrent of betrayal; Natsuo knows how hard you try to keep your status a secret and it hurts that he spilled it- even if it was just to his older sister. Fuyumi must be able to see the upset on your face- her own expression softens and there’s regret in it, something apologetic in her eyes. She doesn’t seem to be judging you or looking down on you and it helps, a little, but you still can’t quite reel in your frustration despite your instinctual efforts to do so. Great- now you’ve made things uncomfortable. Good going, idiot. Your lips quiver and you force a smile to form, clench your hands into fists tight enough to make all your fingers ache. “I…” You have to clear your throat to compose yourself, keep the hurt and shame from your voice. “I...I’m okay.” There’s a flicker of disbelief in her eyes, but it disappears quickly and your cheeks burn as her gaze turns pitying. “...if you need anything, please let me know,” Fuyumi tells you gingerly, kindly. It should be comforting, but it only brings more embarrassment and you hate yourself a little bit for not feeling grateful like you should. “Dad shouldn’t...he shouldn’t be home tonight. And, um, if he does come home, it wouldn’t be for long...I- I’ll warn you if he says anything about turning up…” You wince internally and all you can is nod, hang your head as you whisper out a strained, “thank you.” It’s quiet after that, uncomfortable. Fuyumi, for her part, looks guilty but she doesn’t try to say anything more. The silence only gets broken whenever Natsuo returns and you force a smile on your face even if you can’t quite look at him, even as your heart hurts and your nails dig deeper into your palms. You take a long drink of your wine and listen as he starts chattering about his project, stare at the table as worry and upset crowd your mind. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Several glasses of wine later, your upset is forgotten. Your worry is still there, but it’s blurred under your fuzzy senses, easier to deal with. Or, accept, maybe? It’s hard to say, but you do know that you’re more relaxed- not frantically fighting against Enji-san’s scent but softening into it, letting yourself be tugged slowly into the submissive thing you were born to be. It’s almost comforting now, that simmering scent. You’re starting to feel...hazy. Loose and small but in a good way. Though, that could be from the wine. It could be from the way you’ve found yourself snuggled up and purring against Natsuo’s chest. It’s a good contrast- the toasty scent clouding your senses and your best friend’s cool, soothing touch. You’re not overwhelmed by one or the other and it’s easier to maintain yourself when you can press your flushed cheek against Natsuo’s shoulder, burrow your nose into his neck and inhale his neutral, cleansing scent. A purr works its way through you and you curl your fingers into Natsuo’s shirt, knead at the fabric and look up at him with half-shut eyes. He’s flushed, like you, and there’s a content smile on his face, something in his eyes that you can’t put a name to. He looks happy. That’s good- you want him to be happy. Your purr ups its tempo and Natsuo laughs a little- though you’re not sure why. His hand smooths over your hair and a chirp slips from your lips whenever it travels down to your back, starts to rub slow, cool circles along you. “You’re so soft right now,” Natsuo mumbles. “I’ve never seen you like this…” He hasn’t? Oh, you suppose not… You hum and let your eyes shut, sigh contently when the arm wrapped around your waist holds you a bit more snug to him. Like this, you can almost forget your hurt from before. Almost. You shake your head against him as you feel your upset try to bubble to the surface, curl your fingers tighter into his shirt. You don’t want to be upset and stressed again. You just- you just want to relax. You just want to keep feeling nice and dreamy and a little thick. The sound of footsteps has your eyes creaking open and you blink slowly toward Fuyumi when you spot her in the doorway of Natsuo’s room. She looks...worried? You don’t know why, feel guilty over it for some reason. When you chirp softly at her, her brows furrow and you nearly get up to take her by the hand, draw her into your nest so you can nuzzle her until her worry goes away. Nest...no, wait, no. It’s not a nest you’re in- it’s Natsuo’s futon. His big, comfy futon with its cool sheets and soft pillows, fluffy padding. How did you get into his futon again? (How much did you drink?) You blink again, a little confused, and miss the way Fuyumi bites her lip, the way she hugs herself and casts a nervous look Natsuo’s way. “Natsuo…” You feel him shift underneath you and that rocks your world a bit, has your eyes shutting once more. You don’t catch the words she whispers or what Natsuo says in return, but you do feel the way Natsuo hugs you a little closer whenever Fuyumi’s so very pleasing scent drifts away and it gets drowned out by Enji-san’s so very dominating one. Cool fingers brush against your cheek and slip along your jawline, down under your chin. You whine, softly, whenever Natsuo tilts your head up to look up at him and blink heavily under his scrutinizing gaze. Why is he looking at you like that? “...are you okay?” he asks, after a few seconds of silence. Your head tilts in question and Natsuo huffs gently. “...when was your...when was your last heat?” Your last heat? You can’t remember your last heat, not really. It was drugged and fuzzy, horrible with your leaden limbs and the way you were all alone without an alpha. You’ve...you’ve never had an alpha during your heat. You’ve never had an alpha at all, actually. But- but there’s an alpha here. You can smell him. He’d take care of you- he should be taking care of you. Where is he- where is- Your lashes flutter with furious blinks and a sharp inhale has you almost choking on the scent cloying your senses. You shiver and nearly scratch Natsuo as you grip at his shirt tighter, flush in muffled embarrassment when you vaguely realize where your mind was going. Oh...oh you shouldn’t have drank so much. The moment of clarity helps to jar your mind into something almost functioning and you shudder, squeeze your eyes shut so you don’t have to see your best friend’s concern. “Natsuo...I…” You trail off, swallow back a whine that wants to sound. “Can you...my purse...I have- need to take my suppressor…” You feel the deep breath he takes, feel the way his arm around you tightens. There’s a swallow from Natsuo- audible and something that has you feeling guilty- and then his hand pats your hair, he moves to sit up. “Yeah...yeah. Give me a sec.” You don’t want to move. You don’t want to let him up- you were so comfortable before. But your clarity is lingering and you know that you need him to fetch your pills for you, you know that you can’t sink further into this. (Stupid girl, how could you weaken so much?) Reluctantly, you sit up and out of the way. The smile that Natsuo gives you is a little strained, but the way he ruffles your hair is kind, gentle. When he gets up, you move to curl against the pillows and that’s when you feel something slick on your thighs, that’s when you realize that your panties are wet. When did that happen? Did- did Natsuo know? Did Fuyumi know? You don’t- you don’t understand- when- Embarrassment claws its way out of you in the form of a whimper and shame chases after it- panic, too. You swipe at the slick on your thighs almost frantically and whine as you try to scrub it away, tear up in drunken upset. Humiliating. You manage to rub the tears away before Natsuo comes back, but you’re not quite able to get your wobbling bottom lip under control. He startles in the doorway when he sees you and you hang your head in shame, don’t look at him whenever he passes a small pill and a glass of water to you. The water is soothing, at least. The pill is soothing, too- you know it’ll kick in soon and you’ll be able to gain control of yourself, pull back from the path you were wandering down. Natsuo sits quietly beside you as you drain the glass and you sniffle your embarrassment, hunch your shoulders tight. “...’m sorry,” you mumble. “I didn’t...I don’t…” Natsuo’s arm wraps around you and his hand finds the side of your head, gently pushes you until you’re leaned up against him. “...it’s okay,” he sighs out. You flinch because you know it’s not okay- it’s not okay at all. You’ve ruined things. “You’re not- you’re not going into heat are you?” You wince and you shake your head, hide your face against his broad shoulder. It’s not a lie...you think. It’s just- you’ve just been overwhelmed is all. Overwhelmed and drunk. You’re not- of course you’re not. You can’t be… You grip the glass tight between your hands and shake your head against him, let out a shivery exhale. “I just...I just drank too much,” you mumble. “‘M sorry, Natsuo…” He sighs again, big hand moving to pet over your hair. The cool kiss he gives to your temple is a surprise and soft noise leaves you when his lips press to you, your tension unwinds whenever he nuzzles against you. “You don’t have to apologize,” he tells you- firm but so kind, so sweet. His lips find your temple again and something in you squirms, another soft noise bubbles up and out of your throat. “...are you okay staying here tonight? If you want, I can-” You shake your head before he can finish the suggestion. Even if you’re still fuzzy and drunk, you can’t let yourself be a further burden on your friend, his family- you’re going to have to just make it through the night here and deal with any embarrassment in the morning. ...you hope Natsuo won’t look down on you when you wake. “I-I’m okay,” you insist- words stumbled, fumbled. “I’m fine. Just- just drank too much.” You lift your head and force a smile on your face, grip the glass tight once more as you try not to tremble at the sight of his furrowed brow, his worried frown. Natsuo’s hand finds your cheek and you shudder at the touch, press into his palm and try to cling to your clarity. “I’m okay,” you repeat- softer and with lowered lashes. You reach up to touch his hand and press it more against his cheek, bite your lip when his eyes widen and then soften. “I promise…” He stares down at you and you blink up at him. It’s quiet quiet quiet until Natsuo breathes in deep, gives a small nod. “Okay...I...okay…” He breathes in deep again and you let your hand drop, close your eyes whenever his moves from you as well. “Do you want...do you want to watch a movie or something?” Natsuo suggests- awkward, his hand rubbing the back of his neck. You nod because, yes, that does sound nice and, honestly, what else can you do? Natsuo moves to get comfortable and you hesitate for a moment before creeping close to him, curling up against his chest. The arm he wraps around you is firm, helps you believe that maybe he doesn’t think you’re a gross and pathetic thing. You don’t want Natsuo to think you’re gross. You don’t want him to think you’re pathetic. Natsuo puts a movie on and you close your eyes, curl your fingers into his shirt. He pets over you and you try to sink into the softness from before, avoid drowning too much in it. You drift off- dizzy and still washed over in shame, still wet between your thighs. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ...thirsty. Eyes creaking open, lips parting with a croak, you peel yourself off of Natsuo and rub your eyes with shaking hands. Thirsty. Hungry. Hot. You fumble out of the futon and Natsuo doesn’t stir, doesn’t move as you crawl away from him and stand on weak legs. Feels...you feel… ...fuzzy? You shiver and hug yourself, find your palms wet whenever they touch against your arms. Hot and cold. Doesn’t- doesn’t make sense. You’re- you’re- Thirsty. Hungry. Hot. Cold. Fuzzy. ...lonely? But Natsuo is still there...you shouldn’t be...but...he’s not- he’s not… You shake your head and rub your hands over your arms, look back toward the hallway. You’re just...you just need...you just need some water. That’s it...that’s- that’s all you need… You squeeze your eyes shut tight until stars spark up behind your lids, breathe in deep to try to clear your head. ...you’re fine. You just need some water. Another deep breath and you head toward the kitchen, dig your fingers deeper into your arms. Is it hotter in the house? It takes a moment for you to find the glasses. You try to be as quiet as you can, but your hands won’t stop shaking for reasons you don’t want to think about it. It’s...it’s hard to think anyway. Why is it so hard to think? You fill the glass with cold water and wince when your trembling hand causes droplets to splash onto you, wet your digits. You down the water faster than you have ever done before, fill the glass back up as soon as you’re done. You’re still so thirsty. You’re still so hot. Does...does it smell more like cinnamon too? Does it...can you taste whiskey on your tongue? A soft noise works its way up your throat and your lashes flutter, your thighs press together. You clutch at the counter when your knees threaten to buckle, spill the water into the sink at the sound of heavy footsteps. What...who… You whimper and turn your head toward the doorway- movements so sluggish and a gasp catching in your throat, sweat beading along your hairline. Enji-san- Enji- alpha- Flames lick into the kitchen and you slump against the counter, whimper once more as turquoise eyes stare you down. What is he- he’s not supposed to- he’s- “Al- alpha…” Enji takes a step toward you and your knees buckle, your nails scratch against the counter as you desperately try to keep yourself upright. Not supposed to be here. He’s not- he’s not- why is he- alpha- alpha- alpha smells so good- Your lashes flutter and your head tilts back with a moan, your mind clouds over even as panic pricks through you. Enji takes another step and a growl breaks through the quiet of the room, his shoe sole scorches a mark into the beautiful floor. “Who,” he rumbles out, “are you?” Your palm slips from the counter and your legs tremble, you start to fall to your knees. A thick arm wraps around your waist and drags you back up before you can hit the floor, crushes you against a broad chest. You go limp in the hold and shudder whenever fingers tilt your head up to look at him, whine softly as they splay down and brush over your throat. They’re so...they’re so warm. Big. Thick. Such nice fingers, so wonderful. You want them in you. You want alpha to- to- Oh, god, what are you thinking? A growl answers the whimper that leaves you and you whine, weakly reach a hand to his chest to try to push yourself away. “Behave.” Your hand falls. His scent flares. Your lashes grow wet and his hold on you tightens, his eyes grow darker. His fingers roam over your neck and your own twitch, your chest hitches with little pants and gasps. You don’t quite realize he’s found your scent blocker until it’s peeled off and a groan is leaving him and, by then, there’s nothing you can do about it. There’s nothing you want to do about it. (But you do- you do! He’s- he’s Natsuo’s- you can’t- you can’t!!!) A snarl sounds and you squirm at it, mewl whenever you’re dragged up higher and his nose glances along your jaw, drags down to bury against your scent glands. “Fecund.” The word reverberates against your heated flesh and it’s accompanied by rough fingers digging into you, hot air fanning over your throat. Tears leak down your cheeks, but you can’t tell if it’s from overwhelming need or from fear. Both, maybe, but how can you decide on that when your whole body is trembling, when your senses are flooded with a spicy scent, when your cunt is dripping with your slick. Teeth graze over your scent glands and you whine, grip at broad shoulders and cling to your best friend’s father. You’re thrown over one of those shoulders before you can tell what’s happening and left gasping, scratching along Enji’s back and whining whenever his hand smacks against your ass. “Alpha!” A snarl is all you get in response. You’re carried through the house- down the hallway, past the guest room, past Natsuo’s bedroom. Shades of shame have more tears dripping down your cheeks and you sob as you’re hauled off past your sleeping friend, tremble as you try to rock against Enji in search for some pathetic pleasure you so desperately need. Is alpha taking you to your nest? You want- you wanna be in your nest. You wanna- you wanna be- A door gets flung open and you’re dropped onto a futon, left blinking stupidly up at Enji as he brackets himself over you and bares his teeth. He’s so big. So- so big. Perfect for taking care of you, perfect for protecting you, perfect for breeding you. You chirp at the thought and reach up to him, purr whenever he grabs your hand and presses his nose against your wrist. “Fuck...” It’s ragged, rough. Makes something tingle up your spine. Your purr rumbles louder at it and you coo when his teeth scrape against your wrist, whenever his hand reaches to your waist and pins you down. Alpha is so strong. Why were you...why were you worried before? You can’t remember… “Alpha,” you mumble- only half-aware of it, not quite able to see him as your head lolls and your back arches. “Want...want…” Enji groans against you and his scent doubles down, his grip on your waist becomes bruising. Hurts but it’s- it’s okay- alpha can- alpha can do whatever he wants. “Needy,” Enji growls, hand pushing up your shirt. You nod, whining, and he snarls- chest heaving and pupils tiny pinpricks, flames blooming feverishly. “Good mate.” Pleasure flares all throughout and you whimper as slick gushes from you, as your pussy throbs with your need, with the giddy joy and sheer thrill of being praised by such a strong alpha. Tears have your vision blurry and they bead over your lashes, drip and sear down your cheeks as you smile and shake. Good mate. You want...you want to be a good mate for alpha. Your alpha. A big hand rips your shirt off- Enji’s impatience tearing it to shreds and the fabric digging tight into your skin as he yanks it off and makes it into so many pieces. Your bra is reduced to cinders and the cry you let out from the heat only makes Enji snarl, only has him gripping your breasts with callused hands and giving a rough squeeze. “Tender little morsel,” he growls- brilliant eyes glazing over and a sizzling slather of drool gathering between his teeth. “Mine. Been so long- going to- fuck! Going to breed-” He cuts himself off with another snarl and you sob, reach up with shaking hands to grip at his shirt, desperately try to yank him down closer to you. “Ple- please! Alpha! Breed! Need- want pups! Your pups- Alpha! Alpha! Al-” (No- no- yes! Yes! NO! What are you saying? You can’t- you can’t- You want to be full so bad.) Tears stream down your cheeks as you choke on your pleading words. Enji doesn’t pay attention except to growl and bare his teeth at you, incinerate your shorts and panties. A whimper crawls from your throat as you're burned and marked, but the pain is forgotten when his teeth find your neck and his drool gets spread along it, when your legs are forced into an aching sprawl and he grinds himself mindlessly against your dripping cunt. Feels- feels good. Hurts so much. Feels so good. You need him inside you. You whine, speech forgotten and lips and tongue useless, your mind lost and swirling with need you could have never imagined before, would have feared to comprehend. It’s so hot and thoughts are truly gone from you now- all that’s left is instinct and need, the base and feral desire to be fucked and used and bred- for your purpose as a fecund to be fulfilled. (Why were you ever ashamed of your status? This is what you were born for- this is what’s bringing you such a pure happiness that you’re weeping and shaking and crying out) You don’t protest whenever your limp body is flipped over- just snivel and whine and rock your hips back against Enji- against Alpha. There’s no prep or build up or easing into it- Enji shoves his cock into you and you’re left screaming as pain and bliss sear through you in rough, overwhelming streaks. You collapse completely underneath him and come on his cock- blood dripping down along with your slick, your thick and honeyed juices. The lick to your neck helps soothe the pain and you mewl, allow your head to loll to offer your throat to him. Enji’s neverending growl deepens as his teeth scrape against your scent glands and his fingers bruise into your hips whenever you weakly clench around him, try to rock your hips despite the sting and stretch his cock brings, despite the way you’re aching so badly that you won’t be able to move tomorrow or the day after that. That’s okay, though- alpha will take care of you. Alpha...alpha will take care of you. You need him to take care of you. You can’t do anything without alpha. Enji’s hips draw back and you whine frantically at the thought of him withdrawing from you, claw at the futon and whimper out pleading, wordless mewls. You can’t have him pull away and leave you empty- you need him buried inside of you, you need him to keep you filled and full. Never leave you empty- always keep you full- you need it- you need it! Enji slams himself back into you fully and you sob as you’re filled completely again- body jarring forward with the force and his teeth tightening and digging deep into your throat. The growl that reverberates against your flesh has your body tightening, your claws tearing into soft padding. They rip through the fabric as his hips buffet against you harder and harder and tiny feathers begin to fly through the air, stick to your sweat soaked body as alpha fucks and fucks and fucks you. Through your blurred vision, it looks like snow swirling in the air- impossible coolness despite the heat burning through the room. You coo dreamily, blearily and something scratches in your mind, claws against the pleasure that dulls the pain and has all your senses so broken and drugged. Snow...cool...there’s someone- there’s a reason you shouldn’t be- who- Flaring flames scorch the feathers to ash and you shudder as they lick close to your skin, squeeze and spasm around the thick cock that’s shaping you into Enji’s perfect little hole to breed. (If he doesn’t burn you to a crisp first.) You whimper as he grunts, drip tears and cum and sweat. It’s too much. It’s not enough. You need more. You need his- you need alpha’s- you need- you need- “Kn- knot! S- seed!” The plea scratches out of your throat in a choked sob- hoarse and whiny, so needy and garbled. It’s loud enough that it covers the sound of running steps, desperate enough to make Enji roar out and shove your face into the futon, shove you down so low that your vision is halved by padding and tears as he spears his cock into you again and again and again- swelling knot catching on your slick, sore hole. Your cunt clenches down- gummy insides so desperate to be sprayed and stuffed with his scorching seed- and you’re left drooling over the futon- lashes fluttering and eyes threatening to roll back as begs get caught in your throat and stuttered out in pathetic, broken moans. Please please please wanna be filled wanna be filled so bad need seed need alpha to come need alpha to fill me alpha give me pups alpha breed me alpha please let me give you pups alpha breed your omega alpha breed your bitch alpha alpha alpha ALPHA ALPHA ALPHA- “ALPHA!” Enji comes and it hurts- his seed searing and blistering your insides, his knot slamming and sealing the boiling cum firmly in your spasming, screaming, creaming cunt. You’re yanked up by the hair and his teeth find your neck as you sob, break through your tender flesh as he marks you from the inside out. Tears drip down your cheeks and down your throat, mix with the blood that bubbles and beads through his teeth and past his lips. Hurts- hurts. But- but alpha came- alpha filled you. Alpha bred you. So you’re happy- so happy. A gurgling, broken coo sounds from you and you smile even as you tremble and fall so limp against Enji- smile even as Natsuo and Fuyumi run into the bedroom. Alpha growls against you- content- and a weak mewl leaves you when his tongue licks over his claim, when his scent falls heavy to begin to soothe you, tamp down the pain that is threatening to break you from your fog. “What did you- what did you- WHAT DID YOU DO?!” “Dad! You can’t! Why-” You clench around Enji and whimper at the intruders, twitch and shudder as your lashes flutter to a close. Want- want more- need alpha to- need him to breed you more… You pass out as Enji’s growl turns violent, as Fuyumi clamps a hand over her mouth and sobs over your blistered body and swollen stomach, as Natsuo screams his horror and rushes toward Enji- ice coating his hands and melting from the fierce heat of the room. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ “Alpha...when is alpha…I need him...when is coming home...?” “...soon. Rest now.” A mewl sounds and Natsuo’s heart breaks as he watches you snuggle down into your nest, tears threaten to sting at his eyes whenever you chirp softly at him, burrow your nose into one of his father’s sweaters. You’re so big. Soft and full and stupid. His best friend- his first one true love- has been reduced to nothing but a dumb little omega- a helpless thing who can’t do anything more than chirp and mewl for your alpha- for Enji. This is all his fault. He should have never brought you here. He should have known better. How could he be so stupid? Natsuo grits his teeth and clenches his hands- unable to turn his head from the way you curl around the small bump in your stomach that’s growing larger and larger each day. All he had wanted was to bring you home. All he had wanted was to introduce you to Fuyumi. All he had wanted was to spend time with you, hold you close and gather the courage to whisper his feelings to you. And now...now that’s all gone. The chance has been crushed to bits and he only gets this with you- watching over you and making sure you’re healthy, seeing the way his father’s seed is growing inside of you. He’s going to have another brother or sister. He hates it. He hates Enji. He hates you. ...he hates himself. He should have never brought you here. He should have whisked you away whenever Fuyumi whispered her nervous worries. He should have done so many things. A sigh leaves you- soft and content, sleepy as you run your hands over your stomach. Natsuo finally turns away and he leaves the room- tears wetting his lashes and the tiny shards of his broken heart shattering even smaller. He misses his best friend. He wishes he had never dragged you into his life. Natsuo heads to his room and you stay in your nest- smiling as you drift off, mind blank and all your screaming thoughts of your future and your fear muted by the scent of cinnamon whiskey and cigar smoke, hot metal and searing heat.

#enji todoroki x reader #tw noncon #tw dubcon #tw breeding kink #rooni's shit

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hawaii5-0gurl · 3 years

Text

Enough

Characters: Steve McGarrett X Reader, Danny Williams, Kono Kalakaua, Chin Ho Kelly

Word Count: 2640

Warnings: Angst, Fluff, Insecure Reader

A/n: I Loved this request. I rewrote it quite a few times, and every time it went to an angsty place... I guess that's just who I am

Request from: @lovely-lady-lumps

I just found your page and I'm SO EXCITED! I love H50. Could you write a Steve McGarrett x reader where she's insecure about her body and comments about how she's too heavy, so Steve just casually picks her up with no problem? Please ❤

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You were getting ready for work, but there was one last thing you had to do before leaving. Standing in front of a mirror to check if everything was in its place. This was one of the worst parts of your day. You hated looking at yourself. It just reminded you of all the things that you hated about your body. Everyone has insecurities, you know that but some days the little voice in your head is louder than normal. Today was one of those days.

After a quick check, everything looks okay.

“Well, this is as good as its going to get.” you shrugged your shoulders.

You pulled on your shirt to make it poof out just a bit so that it wasn’t laying right on your stomach. This is something you have done since you were a teen, just another attempt to make your stomach look a little flatter. You weren’t the skinniest girl, but you also didn’t consider yourself fat either. You had put your head in this weird in-between area. You honestly believe nobody would understand because you didn’t understand it yourself.

You turned away from the mirror and headed to the door. You grabbed your backpack and keys before heading into work. Before you could even get to the office you had gotten a call from Steve telling you to meet him at an address.

Kono was able to get a lead on one of your cases. This was the house he used to live in before it was foreclosed on. When you had gotten to the house you saw Chin, Danny and Steve standing by Danny’s car. You got out of your truck and went over to the guys.

“Hey guys.”

“Hey Y/n.” They all said simultaneously,

“I was able to talk to a few of the neighbors, they said that there were noises and lights on at night. Nobody is supposed to be here since it was foreclosed on almost two months ago.” Chin said as he looked around at the neighbors.

“So do you think that our guy is in there?” You were looking at the house.

“Maybe. This is the only lead we have right now.”

“Guys…” You could have sworn you saw a face in one of the upper windows, but as soon as you said something it was gone.

“What?” Steve was looking from you to the house. “Did you see something?”

“Yes, there was someone in the widow.” You started moving towards the house, the guys close behind you.

Steve kicked the front door in, you were the first one in the house. You and Chin took the upstairs while Danny and Steve took the main floor. When your search came up empty, you all regrouped.

“We got nothing down here, are you sure you saw someone?” Steve questioned you.

“Yes, I did. I don’t understand how they would have gotten out without us seeing them.”

You started looking around. There had to be some way for them to escape or hide. You went back upstairs. This time you were taking your time, you were looking for anything that looked out of place. That’s when you realized you couldn’t find the access point for the attic. You went room to room looking for one, looking at the ceiling in the hallways as well. You found what looked like it could be a way into the attic, only problem was it looked too small to fit in.

Steve and Danny came up the stairs to see what you were doing. They saw you staring at the ceiling, they looked up as well. You started looking around for something to boost you up high enough to be able to look inside.

“Y/n what are you doing?” Danny watched you closely.

“Looking for a step stool or something that can give me a boost. I know it’s too small for me to fit in so I figure if I can at least get my head in there to see. Hopefully, I can find a way to get up there.”

Steve and Danny looked at each other confused. You could easily fit in the attic access point.

“I can give you a boost Y/n.” Steve stopped you.

“No.” You said it a little too quickly. You moved and grabbed a step ladder that was leaning up against the wall in the room you were about to enter. “I found one. Plus, if he is up there you need to be able to catch him and you can’t do that if you are holding me.”

You were hoping that this would be a good enough excuse for him to drop it. Steve on the other hand didn’t believe you. You set the ladder up, climbing up to the top. You had to lean off to the side or else you would hit your head. You pulled out your pistol and flashlight, moving the board that covered the opening. You pointed your gun and flashlight in and looked around.

You light glazed over what looked like a person, it was only confirmed when he turned to face you.

“Five 0 freeze! Put your hands behind your head and slowly move this way.” He complied with your orders. “How did you get up here?”

“Through that opening.” He pointed with his elbow to the opening you were poked through.

“Shit... Lay down on the ground. You try anything I will shoot.”

You put your flashlight in your pocket. Then you laid your gun down on the opposite side far away from him. You reached up and braced yourself on both sides, you were going to try to get up there. You were on your tiptoes, you gently pulled yourself up. Then you felt a set of hands under your feet pushing you as well. You ended up hitting your hip on the side of the opening. Once you were up there you grabbed your gun. Then went and handcuffed him.

“Is there any other way to get out of here?”

“Yeah. There is a small staircase that leads to one of the closets.”

“Get up, let’s go.”

He led you to the end of the attic. You had him go down the stairs first, but you had to reach around him to open the door.

“Guys over here.” Danny and Steve came over and grabbed him. “Let’s get out of here.”

They put him in the back of Danny’s car to transport him to HQ to interrogate him. You went to your office to start on the paperwork. When you were done, you got up to go put the file on Steve’s desk. As soon Steve and Danny were done with the interrogation. Steve ended up cornering you in his office.

“Hey.” He came into the office and closed the door.

“Hi, did you get him to confess?” You were leaning against his desk.

“Yeah, but you know at first he swore he was innocent.” He walked over and stood right in front of you.

“They always do.” You tried to get around him, but he wasn’t letting you move from your spot. “Steve, I have work to do.”

“I have to ask you something first.” He was looking directly into your eyes.

“Okay…” You raised one of your eyebrows.

“What’s going on with you today?” “What are you talking about? Everything’s fine.” “Okay… Why wouldn’t you let me help you into the attic today, and don’t say that it was because I needed to be able to catch the guy. Danny was there and Chin was downstairs.”

“That’s exactly why. There’s no other reason.” You crossed your arms, and you may have started avoiding eye contact.

“Y/n, I can tell when you’re lying to me.” He put his hand under your chin to make you look at him. “You can tell me anything sweetheart.”

“It’s because I’m…...” Your voice got quiet as you talked, and you looked down at your hands.

“What?”

“I’m too heavy! Okay!” Steve was taken back by this. “Is that what you wanted to hear?”

“You are not too heavy. Why in the world would you think that?”

“Because I am. Look at this.” You lifted your shirt up to show him your stomach and the bruise on your hip. “You’re going to stand there and tell me that I’m not too big or heavy. I hit the sides of the attic access point trying to get up there. I couldn’t even pull myself up all the way. I’m sure that’s why you and Danny had to help me up there.” You put your shirt down and started walking to the door. He put a hand on the door to stop you from leaving.

“Y/n, you hit your hip on the side because you were off center. You had way more than enough room to get up there. If a man that is over twice your size can make it up there, you would make it up there with absolutely no problem. Also, you were the one to pull yourself up. I barely touched you, Danny wasn’t even near us, he moved to see if he could find a different way in.”

“He was right there, I saw him. Don’t lie to me to try to make me feel better. It will only make it worse.”

You pulled the door open and started walking out. You could see everyone staring at you as soon as you opened the door. You were so embarrassed, and you just wanted to go home.

“Y/n, I’m not lying to you!” This caused you to turn around. You could see now everyone is staring at you.

“Is everything okay?” Danny started walking towards Steve and put a hand on his shoulder.

“No, she thinks that…” You cut him off, you really didn’t want to pull them into this.

“Steve, just drop it.” You started walking back to him. “Let it go.”

“No, I’m not going to drop it or let it go. You can’t just say that and expect me to not say anything. Especially when it is the furthest thing from the truth.”

“It’s not!” Tears were starting to well up in your eyes. You turned back around and left.

“What’s going on?” Danny was trying to get Steve to talk to him. Kono and Chin had moved up and were now standing next to Danny. Steve let out a sigh before telling them what happened.

“I’ll go talk to her.” Kono knows how you are feeling, a lot of girls go through the same thing.

Once you got into your truck, the tears started falling. This was so stupid; how could you get so worked up over this. Why can’t Steve just understand this. Then again that was completely irrational. If you couldn’t understand what your brain was doing, then how could he.

You sat in the parking lot for a few minutes, before leaving. Knowing that you would have to go back soon, you decided to just go to the beach. It was close enough that you could be back in a matter of minutes if need be.

You got out of your truck, taking your boots and socks off. you walked till you were about 10 feet from the water. You sat down, bringing your legs up as far as you could, wrapping your arms around them. You were trying to make yourself as small as you could. You just sat there watching the water, the occasional seagull flying by and the people walking around and having fun.

You had left your phone in your truck, so you didn’t hear all of the texts and calls coming in from Steve. You were able to focus on you for a few minutes. You were so focused that you didn’t notice Kono sit down next to you.

“Hey.”

“Hey.” You didn’t look at her, you just kept your eyes on the water.

“You ok?”

“I’m fine.”

“Yeah, and I’m the queen of England.”

The both of you laughed. You sat there in silence for a little while. You didn’t know what to say, you were still embarrassed from what went down at the office.

“Ya’know he’s telling you the truth, right?” You finally turned to look at her, and just sighed.

“I guess… It’s just been one of those days, more like years. My brain is just…”

“Your brain is lying to you. I know what’s going through your head right now, I have the same problems.”

“How do you get past it?” “Honestly, you have to just take it day by day. Its not going to be something that you can fix overnight. The thing is that you should talk about it. If you don’t want to talk about it get a journal and write. Just know you have a bunch of people that are here for you no matter what.” She wrapped her arm around you, pulling you closer to her side.

Kono’s phone started beeping, she pulled it out.

“I guess its time to go back.”

“Yeah.” She got up and stood in front of you with her arms extended. “Come on, give me your hands.”

Reluctantly you put your hands in hers. She was able to help you up without a problem. You grabbed your shoes and started walking to your truck. Before getting in you wiped all of the sand off of your pants and feet. After putting your shoes back on, you headed back to the palace.

When you got back, you went to your office to take your jacket off and put your keys up. Also, to mentally prepare yourself before walking out there. After a few minutes you walked out of your office to everyone. You stood at the end of the table next to Danny, you started looking at all of the information that was out.

Chin started going over everything that he had, you were trying to listen, but you could see out of the corner of your eye, that Steve was staring at you. It was making it hard for you to focus. Chin had finished going over everything, everyone had started walking away to head out. You unconsciously wrapped your arms around your stomach, it was something that you did when you were uncomfortable. What came next was something that you didn’t expect.

“You know what. That’s enough.” He walked up right behind you and picked you up in one swift motion. You didn’t even have time to react, you let out a loud squeal.

“Steve put me down!” You looked directly at him. “Put me down before you hurt yourself.” You were trying to get out of his arms.

“Y/n stop.” You quit moving, not wanting to hurt him. “I’m not going to hurt myself.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.” He maneuvered your body so that you were facing him. Your legs were now wrapped around his waist and his hands were under your legs holding you in place. “Sweetheart, your body is amazing, beautiful, sexy and perfect. I wouldn’t change anything about it.”

“Really?” you were looking at his face, to see any hint of a lie, but what you saw was a hundred percent genuine.

“Absolutely.”

You grabbed his face in your hands, smashing your lips to his.

“Come on I don’t want to see that.” Danny had his hand covering his eyes. “Plus, we have a case guys, let’s go.”

You pulled back laughing at Danny, but you were still looking at Steve.

“I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” He set you down. “Just promise me that you will talk to me, and not hide or leave.” You smiled and nodded.

“We should go before Danny loses it.”

“We wouldn’t want that.” He started laughing, putting his arm around you and headed out the door.

Tags:

Ohana (Everything)

@camillyb @gurkiloni @wanniiieeee

Steve Taglist

@hails-halstead @healojane @summer-children @multiplecelebritycrushesat16

#Steve McGarrett #Steve McGarrett X Reader #Danny #Danny Williams #Kono #Kono Kalakaua #Chin #Chin Ho Kelly #Hawaii Five-0 #Hawaii Five 0 #hawaii 5-0 #Insecure Reader #Angst #Fluff #Steve McGarrett Fluff #Steve McGarrett Angst

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nathanbatemanfucker · 3 years

Text

June 6, 1973

summary: reader has a head injury that makes it hard to remember things, but hotch is there for them.

pairing: gn!reader x aaron hotchner

warnings: mentions of head injury, just some cuteness

AN: prompt idea from @mrsh0tchner cm discord writing challenge, blurb concept @shmaptainhotchner

word count: 614

“I’m fine, really, I’m fine, don’t worry guys.” You reassure them as you all stand outside the precinct. You’d gotten into a tussle with a possible suspect who ended up having an alibi but was now facing charges of assaulting a federal agent. Your head was feeling fuzzy, a little off, and was hurting right at the temples.

“If you’re so fine, we’re gonna test it.” Morgan looks at you skeptically, in a similar fashion to everyone else.

You glance over at Hotch for a moment, and he has that same expression on his face, slight frown, pinched eyes but something in his eyes is different. “Be my guest.”

“My birthday is June 6, 1973. Test in 30 minutes.”

“You’re on.” You say, leading everyone into the precinct. Everyone disperse, going to start their assigned tasks.

You start to work alongside Hotch, reading over the case files again to gain more insight and perspective on the crime. You only realize 30 minutes has passed when you hear Morgan call your name from somewhere inside the precinct.

The panic in your eyes must be apparent because Hotch steps closer to you as you hear Morgan making his way closer to you.

“What do you remember?” He asks gently.

“That I’m supposed to be remembering something but that I can’t.”

“Morgan’s birthday, June 6th, 1973.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“You really need to start calling me Hotch.” Is all he says with the slightest upturn of his lips.

_____

It happens again. Reid has just told you to call Garcia and ask her to cross reference something and you can’t remember. You’re mid dialing when Hotch catches your eye and guides you out of the room.

“Y/n-“ He begins.

“Please don’t make me go to the hotel, I’m fine really, I’m just fuzzy.”

He sighs, debating on what he should do. “You have one more pass, after that we’re going to the hospital.”

“We?”

“We.”

“O-okay, sir.”

“Male, local art studios, violent crimes. I’ll stay with you until you finish the call just in case.”

“Thank you, Hotch.”

“Aaron.” He murmurs before nodding towards the phone in your hand.

_____

The third time comes when you can’t remember what food to order when tasked with ordering dinner since it’ll be a long night. Hotch puts his foot down even after you pout, driving you to the hospital. You have a concussion, a severe one and the doctor puts you on mandatory sick leave for two weeks. Though you’re upset, you know it's for the best when Hotch drives you back to the hotel. He insists on walking you to your door, which sends a round of butterflies through your stomach.

“Wait, what are you doing?” You question when he follows you into your hotel room.

He looks at you like it's obvious, eyebrows raised in confusion. “I’m staying with you, you need to be monitored.”

“You could easily get someone else to do that. You’re the boss, you’re supposed to be out there.”

He hesitates, stuffs his hands in his pockets as he chooses his next words. “I think we both know that I wouldn’t be able to focus if I was out there.”

“I’m not sure we’re on the same page here.”

“I care about you. As more than an agent or a colleague, or a friend.” His voice is low, and you blow out a deep breath as you take in the statement.

“I care about you too.”

“Then let me stay.”

“Only if we get to cuddle.” You say with an impish grin and he laughs, really laughs, hearty and deep and you forget all about your head injury.

“Sure, baby, we can cuddle.”

tagged: @ssahotchsbitch, @ssahotchie, @mrsh0tchner, @azenpal, @disgruntledchowchow, @chelseyjoyce, @hotchwhore15, @hotforhotchner11, @ssamorganhotchner, @choppa-style, @kuolonsyoja, @heliotropehotch, @averyhotchner, @zetasaturno99, @art-and-thoughts, @spngirl05, @g-l-pierce, @qtip-blog, @scuttling, @akira-155

#aaron hotchner x gn reader #aaron hotchner x gn!reader #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner blurb #quan ☕️ co case files #quan ☕️ co #aaron hotchner #arsonhotchnerwrites #arson writes

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bookofmirth · 3 years

Note

I saw your recent response to an anon where you mentioned the drama that occurred the other day based around bookprofessor’s post. Obviously you don’t have to respond to this or publish it if you do not wish but I just wanted to bring up that while it is important to focus on the real life issues at hand, the OP was hypocritical in her post which is why people were getting upset. She was preaching against ableism while simultaneously flaunting her IQ and degree which is a form of ableism. She was speaking out against racism while ending her post using the racial slur “cracker” when talking about the possibly Caucasian Twitter elriels.

Obviously she had some important points but it was completely overshadowed by her participation in the hate speech and prejudice that she was speaking out against.

This does not in any way justify the nasty messages she received but on the same hand, I do not blame anyone that called her out for her hypocrisy. I hope you can understand why her post was so negatively received and how flawed it was. My hope is that one day everyone can just ignore the negativity, report those who are being racist/prejudiced in any way, and block those who are just being loud and who you don’t wish to see content from. But unfortunately I do not see that happening any time soon.

There are a few things I want to address in this because I think it's a good moment for the fandom to step back and reflect on how we treat one another, how we react to such issues, and how we behave moving forward.

First off, thanks for explaining your point of view without being antagonistic. I do think that everyone's emotional reactions to the post were valid. I do NOT think their responses, in terms of words and actions, were valid. Now before I move forward, I want to clarify that when I use the word "you", I am referring to anyone who may have had the response I am describing - not you personally, anon. Also please don’t freak out about how long this is, as a majority of it is a response to the fandom in general, not you in particular.

What was - and wasn’t - said in the original post

In this post, there were completely valid criticisms of the way that people in this fandom behave, and it wasn’t “generalizing” a certain group, it was literal, actual proof of things that had been said, by multiple people. I’m not going to get too into what Alyssa argued because her critiques of those tweets was flawless. The original post had very valid criticisms of what was happening on Twitter. Alyssa exposed the actually racist, homophobic, and imperialistic underpinnings of those tweets.

However, a lot of people are stuck on the bits before and after those critiques. @bookprofessor apologized for different aspects of her post in a few different asks. There were perhaps better ways that some of those things could have been phrased, some things that could have been left out. And she apologized. People can accept that apology or not but we can’t act like it didn’t happen. Like she didn’t reflect and learn to do better.

However, the people she was calling out have not done the same thing, and if anything, comments that focus more on Alyssa’s tone than why she wrote the post in the first place lets those people off the hook.

On cracker - Using the word "cracker" is not racist in the same way that using racial slurs against POC is. Is it prejudiced? Yes. But you cannot say that it is the same thing when that is demonstrably untrue, given centuries of oppressive history. No one has been oppressed for being white. Those are not the same. Reverse racism is not a thing because a white person punching down on POC is NOT AT ALL the same thing as a POC punching up at white people. The actions look the same, but the impact is so unequal it’s not even funny.

Racism is a systemic, institutionalized problem. It is not defined by individual actions, though those actions can either support or challenge racism. When someone calls a white person a cracker, there isn’t centuries of oppression giving power to and reinforcing that statement. That is not a “gotcha” moment.

Saying “I have x IQ” or “I have X degrees” is not ableist. I’m sorry to whoever told you it was ableist (again, not you specifically anon but people who had read the “aw shucks guys” vagueblogs about it), but it’s not. Those are facts. I have no idea what my IQ is, but I have five degrees from institutions of higher education. Me saying that is in no way ableist.

Often, people mention those things to be elitist, yes. Sometimes, they can be used to say “hey I know more about this than you”. They can be used in a way that tries to make themselves feel superior. I suspect that this is the impression that a lot of people got of the post. However, there is a fine line between saying “hey that’s elitist” and professing anti intellectualism. Which is perhaps a side issue so I’ll let that go for now.

Another reason that people mention their degrees or qualifications is to establish their background knowledge and credibility. If I were to say “hey y’all I have two MA degrees” (which is true) I am not being ableist! It is a fact! It is factual! And I worked my ass off for those, I will be in student loan debt until I die for those, I have every right to mention them if I want to, and often I do so in order to establish my credibility, to explain the position I am coming from. And my prior knowledge of these topics is relevant when we are talking about literature since that’s what my degrees were on - literature and linguistics. That is why Alyssa mentioned her background, though she did pair it with comments about other people, for which she has apologized.

My final point about this is that I 1000% understand feeling insecure or less than because of educational attainment. I dropped out of high school. I had a complex about that for a long, long time. But I also know that if I took offense at someone else saying they had a PhD, then that offense is about me, not them. Someone else’s inferiority complex is not reason for people to pretend to be less than they are.

If those two comments are what overshadowed the bigger, more important issue for a lot of the readers of that post, then y’all allowed them to overshadow those more important issues. I am 99% sure that someone right now is reading this and thinking “but Leslie, it was the way that she said it!” Boy have I got some news for you!

How we react

This next section is not specific to this ask; instead, it is a discussion of how the fandom responded. If it were only one person who had said “but her tone” then I wouldn’t need to make this point. The fact that multiple people are exhibiting the behavior explained below is what makes this a cultural problem within the acotar fandom.

The main argument I saw on the post itself, and indeed any time I see people bring up how nasty Twitter can be, is that “it was a joke” and “that’s how stan Twitter works”.

No.

Those responses were quite useful for this post, though! So buckle up everyone, because I am going to talk about gaslighting, racism, respectability politics, and tone policing. While I understand that some people might have taken personal offense to what was said, there is a much bigger issue at stake that has nothing to do with individual feelings, and everything to do with ensuring that POC stay silenced and white supremacy is upheld.

Back to the “but it’s a joke” thing. Thanks for gaslighting! Great example of that, person I’m not going to tag! Gaslighting is when you make someone question their experiences, when you try to make them think “wait, did I really feel that way? Is my feeling about that valid? Do I need to re-evaluate my response to this?? Am I blowing this out of proportion???” And saying “it’s just a joke” is a perfect way to do that. Did I say something accidentally sexist? It’s just a joke, nbd! Now you’re the problem, because you didn’t understand my joke and laugh!!!

Saying “it’s a joke” or “oh they are old/young/ignorant, they will learn” is not a good response to... anything. It takes the responsibility off the people who are doing the harm, and putting it onto the people who were hurt. And in this case, anyone who read those tweets and found them harmful (which should be everyone?) is completely valid. You aren’t lesser for being angry or emotional or for seeing a problem where other people saw a joke. The people who see those things as acceptable jokes are the ones in the wrong.

This is a tactic that is used against women all the time. Any time a woman is sexually harassed at work or online, for example, and she gets upset about it, and someone chimes in with “oh they weren’t serious, can’t you take a joke?” So you can imagine what this is like for women of color.

It is a very, very common tactic for people of color to be silenced via tone policing and respectability politics. Tone policing and respectability politics are very closely related, especially in this context. The idea is that if Alyssa had just written that post in just the right way, it would have been more palatable to white people, and therefore okay to write. The idea that if she had tried to be “understanding” or “see it from their perspective” or understand that it’s “just a joke” are all ways to silence and de-legitimize any accurate, valid criticisms that were made of those tweets. It effectively re-routes the conversation away from the real issues, and to the person trying to bring them up. It’s essentially an ad hominem attack in disguise.

We see respectability politics in media when people of color who act or dress or speak like white people are afforded more respect. Or any time that a person of color is pulled over and people say, “well if they had just done what the police officer asked...” There is a pervasive idea that if people just “act” properly, aka if you act white, then the police won’t feel antagonized and try to kill arrest you. If we are nice enough, meek enough, smile enough, etc. then we will be accepted.

When we tone police, we refuse to allow marginalized people the right to be angry. We say that "hey, we can only have this discussion if you leave emotion, which you rightfully feel, at the door, and we can only continue this discussion if you behave in a way that makes me feel comfortable." But guess what? It isn’t about you! These discussions are often highly uncomfortable. There is no nice way to tell someone they are being racist. And yet somehow, that is the ever-moving goalpost. It seems reasonable, right? “Just be civil, be nice, don’t insult each other!” And there is that. But those criteria change constantly, to the point where anyone (white) at any time can say “WHOA WHOA THIS IS MAKE ME UNCOMFORTABLE???” Then we find ourselves at zero, and suddenly the focus of attention has shifted away from the actual problem.

Before we go further, I want to say this: people have a right to be angry. They do not need to make their anger palatable or tasteful for the consumption of others (read: white people).

We saw this last summer, and I’m not sure how the message didn’t get across. But people are rightfully angry about racism. They are angry about the murder of people of color by police, they are angry about lack of quality education, or clean water, of centuries of oppression that have led to this very moment when all of that ceases to matter because a white woman’s feelings got hurt one time.

And that is what pisses me off so much. There is no way in this world that we could criticize tweets like those that everyone would agree with, and that everyone would “approve” of, that would be “nice” enough and yet still be impactful and make the authors of those tweets understand the gravity of what they have done.

The least we can do is allow one another to express our anger, our outrage, because it’s highly likely that those people know exactly what the fuck they are doing, and they do not fucking care. By criticizing a woman of color for the way in which she chose to engage with this topic, we are avoiding the issue and letting the people in those tweets off the hook.

There were many responses to that post that were positive, that agreed with Alyssa. There are a ton of people who disagree with those tweets, who find them disgusting, who understand exactly how and why they are problematic. That should be what we are talking about. Getting to the core of the argument, on that post or any about racism or other problematic behavior in fandom, requires getting past our own egos. It requires us to be able to step back, say “hm this thing is frustrating but there is a bigger picture here”. It’s not easy, and I recognize that.

The fact that it is a common tactic though? To say “hey this hurt me personally and so I’m going to ignore any valid points you made?” That feeds directly into centuries of white supremacy because it, once again, silences POC and makes them try to play a losing game. And they will always lose, because no matter how hard they try to play the white game, the goalposts are constantly shifting. So you know what? Fuck the game, and fuck respectability politics, and fuck tone policing and “uwu be nice guys” because when it comes to things like racism and sexism, I don’t expect the people who deserve to be criticized to be nice. In fact, trying to be nice only serves to fuck POC over in the end.

Indeed, in response to that post, certain blogs have taken the opportunity to position themselves as “the nice ones” or “the ones who would never” or “uwu let’s be nice guys” while completely ignoring the fact that a woman of color was attacked for calling out racism. And yes - that was the point of her post. People getting hung up on mentions of her degree are (intentionally or not, it doesn’t matter) completely obfuscating the fact that that is not what her post was about, which was to call out disgusting behavior. idk how many words the post actually was, but essentially, people are focusing on 5% of it to the detriment of the 95% that was actually really important shit. These types of vagueblog posts about the issue fall into exactly what I am talking about - these are people who have decided to look at this issue, see how Alyssa (and anyone else who dares speak up) has approached it, and intentionally try to act like they are “better” because they can be “rational” and “kind”. Newsflash, if you don’t have something to be angry about, then being “nice” about racism isn’t that much of a flex. If it didn’t bother you, then congratulations. That doesn’t make you better than people it did bother. You just got lucky this time, and decided to use that to your advantage to look like the good guy.

I am not saying that all calls for peace are doing this. Obviously it’s what we all want. This is the worst I have seen this fandom in the 4+ years I’ve been here. But we cannot have that by ignoring the real problems and pretending that if we are all just nice to each other, then we will solve racism and sexism and all bullying in the fandom will stop.

So combining all of this - the gaslighting, the tone policing, and what do you get? You get a fandom that refuses to actually engage critically with its own problems and take accountability for them. You get a fandom that decides that it’s easier to be distracted by this one mean comment over here than it is to engage in the fact that you know what, the culture in this fandom has actually turned incredibly disgusting and a lot of people are just okay with it. You’ve got a fandom that is using the tools of white supremacy to avoid the discussions that should actually be taking place. Maybe people don’t realize that that’s what they are doing. But if someone still thinks that after reading this post, then godspeed my friend, I hope you enjoy Twitter.

Okay so my last thing I want to say is that I didn’t come to all of this knowledge fresh from the womb. I do a lot of work, in my personal life and my professional life, to be better. So here is a list of books that I have found particularly helpful:

How to Be An Antiracist by Ibram X. Kendi

Stamped From the Beginning: The Definitive History of Racist Ideas in America also by Ibram X. Kendi

White Fragility: Why It’s So Hard for White People to Talk About Racism by Robin DiAngelo (side note, I was kinda meh about this one but the chapter “White Women’s Tears” is particularly helpful)

So You Want to Talk About Race by Ijeoma Oluo

Black Feminist Thought: Knowledge, Consciousness, and the Politics of Empowerment by Patricia Hill Collins

I’m not going to talk specifically about Alyssa’s post anymore, but if anyone wants to continue talking about these broader issues going on in the fandom, I am game. (I really should be grading papers though, so it might take a bit.)

#cw racism #acotar #acosf #acotar fandom #fandom wank #fandom things #this is the long post i mentioned earlier #i will link it in my meta post

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hollyhomburg · 3 years

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Before I Leave You (Pt.2)

(Omegaverse au, Mafia au, Bts x Reader)

*SNEAK PEAK*

Summary: On the worst days, Yoongi is judge, jury, and executioner. But he judges you and finds you worthy of protecting (and loving too).

Tags: Dead bodies, blood, murder/crime themes, guilt, childhood trauma, drugs (cocaine, heroine), domestic abuse, emotional abuse, physical abuse, controlling behavior, implications of omega mistreatment/discrimination, anorexia, blood, graphic depictions of violence, manipulation, talking behind someone's back, morally gray Yoongi,

W/c: 14.5k

A/N: Honestly this took me way too long to write and edit. I can’t tell if this is my favorite depiction i’ve ever written of falling in love or if I hate it. But yeah- i didn’t want to sit on it for much longer. This part takes place chronologically before the last part, and documents what happened while yoongi was away from the rest of his pack.

Previous part — Masterlist

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CHAPTER 2: THE DON

“She’s just an omega- you know how they are- they need a firm hand to keep them in their place.” Yoongi scoffs thinking of his omegas. Anyone who even dared to think that Seokjin and Jungkook did not wear the pants in their pack had another thing coming to them.

He watches his older brother cut another line of cocaine.

The amount of drugs in this Geumjae’s study cost enough to feed a small family for a year. But Yoongi knows better than to partake. He pretends to take a Bump and taps it off when Geumjae tips back a shot."Omegas aren't even fucking worth it if you ask me, brother, you're supposed to give half of yourself away, and for fucking what? A glorified bed warmer?"

Yoongi boils and stays silent, letting Geumjae get himself wasted on drugs and alcohol. He can't tell what distresses him more Geumjae has such little regard for life that he can't recognize that omegas are fucking people- or that he's so freely sharing this with him.

He knows he’s toeing the line. More pushing might hurt you more, if he provoked aggression from his brother- it would no doubt come back to bite you. Yoongi can’t imagine wanting to hurt someone he loves or speaking with the same callousness that Geumjae speaks. “Don’t you love her?”

Geumjae laughs at Yoongi’s childish question “Oh little brother, don’t you know that love makes you stupid?”

His brother has it all wrong but Yoongi’s powerless to say it. Those threats from the funeral linger. And it's not only your life and Yoongi’s at stake here but the rest of his pack. He has to fool Geumjae into thinking he is on his side.

“Work with me here- what will the other omegas in the pack think of you if they find out what kind of shit you pull? And they’ll take their concerns straight to their alphas and say you’re unfit to lead. You know I have to listen to the bulk of them regardless of what you want.”

If he can’t appeal to Geumjae’s humanity- he can appeal to Geumjae’s better interest and common sense. His image in the family is arguably the most important thing in geumjae’s mind, and Yoongi can tell by the way that Geumjae stiffens when he says the words that it’s stuck.

Geumjae might have been trained in torture, but Yoongi was trained in manipulation. And he take the bait- hook, line, and sinker.

After that, he has the good sense to act softer with you in front of the rest of the family at the very least. But he fears he might have done more bad than good when he sees the way you stiffen and fail to meet his eyes more consistently as the days go on. You’re sensitive about eye contact, Yoongi gets it. you don’t have as much control over your facial expression as the rest of these robotic mobsters.

Group dinners are routine, and while Yoongi could find an excuse to see you during the day, he’s also often pulled in 50 different directions by the expectations of his family.

He finds himself reading for dinner in a hurry most nights, eager or maybe a little panicked to check in with you. You never request his presence, you never text (though he made sure you have his number just in case), and the family dinners are tense between the two of you.

You maintain none of the easy friendship you’d started that day in the rain or that closeness. You avoid him like the plague at dinner, and It’s like that day in the rain never happened.

Geumjae sticks to your side like glue too. A hand that probably looks protective to anyone else but looks possessive to Yoongi slung around your waist. Yoongi sees the harshness and pain in your body when Geumjae’s hand tightens digging into the swell of your hip. You’re soft in the way that most omegas are a little soft- and it’s as expected as it is distracting.

He manages to corner you during one of the dinners. you're not alone- and you can hear the grannies and omegas prattling to each other in the kitchen. the alphas are outside enjoying a cigar and investigating one of the new rolls royces that one of yoongi’s uncles recently purchased.

The corset portion of your dress making your chest soft looking, plump and inviting if yoongi was the kind of man to get distracted by something like that. As it is- all he notices is how it’s making your chest heave. Breath uneven, he thinks he can hear the boning in the dress creek. It’s a designer thing, but it looks way too tight on you. he can tell how uncomfortable you are.

“Are you okay?” he asks, though it's clear you’re not, you dont reply, looking down and away worried. Hand hovering over your stomach, “I won’t get mad whatever it is.”

You bite your lower lip. hand catching yourself on a side table before you teater over, dizzy. Yoongi grabs you before you fall. “He did my corset too tight, it’s hurting my ribs. I feel like im going to pass out.” Yoongi quickly looks around, but there is no one around in the part of the house right now, the garden is a backdrop, speckled with lights. you’re alone.

Yoongi turns you around quickly, setting his champagne to the side and grabbing yours out of your hand. He undoes the top knot of the dress and you inhale gratefully as he tugs at the strings looser, fingers touching your bare skin. “Is that better?” he has to be quick. This isn’t exactly scandalous- but- its not quite proper.

You inhale deep and grateful. “So much better, thank you.” you barely have a second to both straighten up, Yoongi's fingers pulling the bow back together. grabbing your champagne and sipping at it a careful distance away from Yoongi. looking for all intents and purposes like you’ve been swathed in uncomfortable silence the entire time they were gone. The picture of propriety as Geumjae and a few other alphas return in a puff of rich smoke.

“Don’t mention it.” Yoongi says it softly so that only you can hear it.

More than once. Geumjae catches him staring at you during the dinner. you look so much more comfortable now that it’s been loosened. Your hand hovering in front of your dress to conceal your cleavage under the guise of fiddling with your necklace. During those moments, Geumjae rewards Yoongi’s wandering gaze with bold touches. A hand sliding from waist to hip and your sudden straightening in pain.

Geumjae’s harsh fingers digging into a bad bruise on your hip. you’re so trained, you barely flinch when he does it. And still- Yoongi’s hands tighten in his slacks. Gritting his teeth and biting the inside of his cheek to stop himself from making a scene and reaching across the table to stop Geumjae from hurting you.

Many of the other members of the family notice Geumjae’s sudden dogmatic approach to your presence in his life. Confirming what Yoongi suspects. That he’d never given you too much attention at these family meals before Yoongi came with his wandering eyes. He should do better be better not to put you in harm's way.

Yoongi keeps his eyes firmly trained on his plate full of spiced soft-shelled crab as one of the grannies comments on how sweet the two of you seem. Yoongi wants to gag. “You know how new love is. I feel like we’ll be in the honeymoon phase forever. I want her all to myself so bad I think she’s worried I’ll chain her to my bed” he says- feigning drunkenness. You laugh too- trying to play it off but Yoongi can see your barely concealed fear.

Staying silent and letting your husband hurt you is the hardest thing that yoongi’s ever had to do. But there are many more battles, fights and skirmishes to win in this war. Yoongi has to be patient.

He’s a poised snake, ready to strike at the perfect moment.

COMING WEDNESDAY APRIL 21 @ 6PM EST

#bts fanfic #bts mafia au #bts omegaverse au #bts polyamory au #bts x reader #bts poly au #bts werewolf fic #bts fluff #bts angst #bts hurt/comfort #min yoongi fic #min yoongi x reader #yoongi x reader #min yoongi #omega! reader #bts a/b/o au

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kimnjss · 4 years

Text

no right answer | knj

⤑ series: plot twist

⤑ pairing: rapper!namjoon x rich girl!reader

⤑ genre: angst... nd that’s pretty much it :/

⤑ rating: PG13

⤑ word count: 7.7K // unedited.

⤑ warnings: daddy jung makes an appearance... joon still doesn’t know how to communicate. yns feelings are hurt once again. they internally ramble a lot :/ and hoseok has a girlfriend.

⤑ chapter song: meet me in amsterdam - RINI

⤑ A/N: heyy! nothing much to say, sooo! enjoy nd let me know what you think x

MAY 23RD, 2020 | 18:10

The fact that you've shown up on Hyungwon's arm sets your father off way before you're entering the hall. You can tell by the pulsing of the vein above his brow, the grit in his teeth when you pass him, Hyungwon making a show of wrapping his arm around your waist, leading you inside before your father can get a word in.

Although, you're sure he'll find his opportunity at some point tonight.

Just as expected, gossip blog journalists, reports, the regular old press are all lining the front hall, waiting patiently for a word from the man who made this night possible. At least, that's the premise they're hiding under – it was more than obvious that they were silently hoping to witness something, anything that could be a headliner in the morning.

You do as you've been told, smile brightly at everyone that approaches, introduce Hyungwon as a close friend, chat up the new artists that your father's company plan to release in the upcoming months. Words flowing from your lips effortlessly, trained to dodge every prying question, every backhanded compliment. The practiced smile doesn't falter once.

Not even when the demanding flick of the fingers comes from your father across just a few feet away, behind his back of course, out of view from the woman reporter he's chatting with. Summoning you over silently, his first choice nowhere in sight. With a huff, you're politely ending the meaningless babble of the tag on your dress.

Hand pressed lightly to Hyungwon's chest, his arm doesn't drop from around you as the two of you make your way over to your father. Only making it halfway before he's shooing Hyungwon away, with the same discreetness he used to call you over. “I'll meet you inside,” You're mumbling with a roll of your eyes, easily able to guess that he's started his bullshit early.

Hesitant at first, but he's soon releasing you, placing a soft kiss to the top of your head that has the cameras around flashing. Great. The apologetic look on his face washes the scowl from your features. His lips shifting into a sheepish smile while he reaches his hand up to ruffle your perfectly styled hair. That has questions flying from the crowd, demanding to know if the two of you were an item.

“I'll see you inside,” He says with a curt nod of his head, turning to finish his journey into the hall. On his way, he's swept up by a man with a million questions and a mic. No time to worry about that now, instead you take the place beside your father.

And he pulls this surprised expression as if he didn't expect you to just show up. “Oh, there she is! We've been talking about your new position. Would you like to chime in?” You wouldn't have been asked to 'chime in' if the appropriate response hadn't been hammered into your head on the way over here.

Practiced smile. “It's an honor to work so closely with such great artists. Their work is promising and truly inspiring. We have a lot of plans for them in the future that I'm sure will be nothing short of impressive...” You begin to drown yourself out, thoughtlessly speaking as your eyes wander around the room. Seemingly on their own accord until your sight is fixing on someone.

Okay, not just someone. Namjoon. He looks nice. Although, you can tell he's wearing the same suit that he had worn to Jungkook's release. Did he only have one nice suit? You'd have to make a note of that for... quite literally shaking the thought from your head, you're turning back into the conversation. Laughing at something you don't even find funny. All while stealing glances across the room, not being able to keep yourself from wondering if he was stealing glances too.

He was. Like really bad too. From the moment Joon had stepped into the building, his eyes were finding you. Guided by the loud chatter around you, looking in time to catch the gentle pat of your boyfriend's hand on your head. The way you seemed to melt at the simple touch, he could do that. He was sure of it.

And then he can't tear his gaze off you. While you pull that fake smile of yours, only half-listening to the words that are being said to you. Laughing flatly and leaning into your dad, keeping up with the perfect father/daughter image that he had no idea was an act until he was meeting you. Talking to you. Now it was obvious. Even from across the room, he could tell that you were faking.

That you'd much rather be anywhere else.

“Ah! There's my little prodigy,” Your father speaks loud enough for everyone to hear, just in case they missed the dramatic cheers that echoed the moment he was stepping out of his car. Hoseok was here. A pretty redhead latched to his side, a sight that your father is surprised to see. He hated surprises.

Nevertheless, he's embracing your brother into a tight hug. Which to the press looks like an adorable father and son moment, but you know better. You've been on the receiving end of that hug before and judging from the frown that flashes over Hoseok's features, he's in trouble. But later, of course, there are millions of eyes watching right now – so the interview goes on with loud laughs and large smiles.

And for once, you're not the only one that's faking it.

MAY 23RD, 2020 | 18:49

“Come sit, Yn. Dinner is about to be served,” He doesn't leave any room for argument with the tone that he uses and you find it funny that he thinks that you're not going to try. “No thanks, I'm going to sit with my date,” Hyungwon has found his place amongst the other artists of his status, chatting loosely with them as he waits for you.

A timed twitch of your father's brow, he'd usually rely on Hoseok's easy coaxing to get you to comply without making a scene. But that trick is out of commission. Sat close with his pretty girlfriend, flirting openly. Ooh, the look on your father's face when he was introducing her to reports as his girlfriend. Not an ounce of uncertainty in his voice. 'Her? She's my girlfriend. Ti-lee. Isn't she gorgeous?'.

Didn't even spare a glance in your dad's direction, heart-shaped eyes saved for his girl. Expertly ignoring the subtle glares he was being sent whenever there was a chance. Your brother might be your hero. Seriously.

He's not about to beg you to come sit at the family table with him and Hoseok, that could risk giving away there is a reason why you wouldn't want to sit there in the first place. So instead, he's pushing a tight-lipped smile onto his lips, nodding his head before turning around. Exactly.

Hyungwon stands as you approach, pulling your chair out like a true gentleman. Leaning over to press his lips to your cheek and drop his arm around your shoulders, easily tucking you into his side. “How'd it go? Who's that with your brother?”

“His girlfriend. Can you believe it? Hoseok brought someone that wasn't approved and cleared by our dad first,” The shock in your tone matches the look on his face, which quickly melts into a smile.

A soft chuckle falls from his lips, his head shaking from side to side. “This isn't gonna end well,” His shoulders shake with his laughter, hands reaching to lift his glass. You giggle beside him, knowing all too well how right he is. Whether it was now or later, this was going to explode into a big mess. You were just glad you were in the clear for once.

Dinner starts.

Hoseok is between bites of his Wagyu steak when he's being hit with the dry monotone voice of the man beside him. A tone that he's not at all used to when he's being addressed by his father. It's usually reserved for you. “Where'd you find this girl?” He doesn't even bother to whisper, Ti-lee no doubt hearing him.

“I met her,” He feels it would be a bad idea to say that he met her at a party. Much less a release party held at the company. He knew all too well how his father felt about you mixing work and pleasure, he wasn't going down that lane.

Thankfully, he's not so much interested in the where, but more so the why. Mind reeling with all the upsetting outcomes that can come from this. Some random girl slipping in could potentially ruin everything he carefully constructed for his son's life. He knew first hand how vicious women can be when money's involved. “What does she do?”

“She's a model,” Hoseok's sweating, fumbling for the right string of words that can help him paint Ti-lee in an admirable light. There was nothing wrong with her. She was a great girl, all of the things you'd want your girlfriend to be. But his father's expectations were high, there was no telling what would be a deal-breaker.

He scoffs, head bowed to bring attention back to his plate in front of him. “That's not a real job,” He laughs to himself, head shaking in disbelief. There was no way his son would be so stupid... to think he could be with a model? The field that aged quickly, chewed up and spit out money-grabbing woman chasing youth. Nope, not his son. “We'll talk about this later,”

Putting an end to the conversation before Hoseok can get another word in. He's back to his meal, acting as if he hadn't shaken up his son's entire world. 'We'll talk about this later,'. Never was a good sign. Always met with an ultimatum when it came to you. He tries to act cool, be mindful of the millions of eyes watching at all times. But it's hard to hide the twinge of annoyance souring his face.

It wasn't fair. He didn't even get the chance to introduce Ti-lee properly, give his dad a chance to get to know her. Then he'd understand how easy it is to fall for her, Hoseok stood no chance when it came to her. And he didn't even get to say that, to show him why he just had to bring her around. Present her as his girlfriend, because he was so proud. So proud and his dad didn't even care.

It was not fair.

MAY 23RD, 2020 | 20:17

As the night moves on, Joon finds himself searching for you through the crowd. His eyes find you all throughout dinner, half-listening to the chatter from Taehyung and Yoongi and watching you. Even when you move to dance, hand resting delicately over Hyungwon's bicep, so very clearly showcasing who you're here with tonight. But he can't tear his eyes away.

Left standing as more and more people spread around the hall, busying themselves with light conversation as the musicians play louder for the many people who have decided to move on to the dance floor. You're at the center of them all, smiling prettily up at your boyfriend. Laughing, a very real laugh that he didn't realize he missed until now.

God, he missed you so much. And it was worse because you were right there. Right in front of him, laughing and smiling and being yourself. But he felt like now for some reason, he couldn't be apart of that. That you didn't want him to be because he couldn't get it together. Because he couldn't say what was on his mind.

So, now he was stuck watching you. Admiring you from afar and wishing that it was him in the place of the man you brought tonight. Exclusively. All he wanted was to be yours exclusively. He knew that wouldn't happen so easily... or at all.

“You're actually staring, dude. What's with you?” Hoseok's voice is breaking through his thoughts, two glasses of brown liquor in hand. Hand outstretching in offering, Joon thanks him with a smile and a nod of his head.

Embarrassingly, pulling his gaze away. He knew he had been doing it but had no idea that it was that obvious. Had you noticed too? Caught him staring while he was so lost in his thoughts of you. Not likely. You hadn't looked his way at all tonight. He was sure of it. “She doesn't look so annoying, tonight.” His shoulders lift in a shrug, that has Hoseok's eyebrows raising.

The number of times he's complained to your brother about how much you bothered him.

Who would've thought this would be the outcome. At first, all he wanted was for you to leave him alone. Bottle up your crush and give him some space so he can concentrate on his work. On what was important and now... now he was dying for a chance to go back. Before things got complicated and he found it hard to say what was on his mind.

It used to be so easy to just tell you to leave him alone, to take part in the back and forth banter that he never really realized was just foreplay. Now, things were so strained and he was the cause of it. Because he had gotten in his own way, confused you and now you were pulling back. As you should.

What was he supposed to do, though? You were with someone, seemingly happy. The way you dealt with relationships and... love, was much different from what he was used to. And he was in no place to ask you to change that for him, just as he wouldn't want you to ask him to change for you.

So then what was left? Leaving each other alone, keeping his feelings bottled up because telling you would only make matters worse. At least, that's what he had thought at first. Thought it would be easy to just pick up and move on without a word, but after that night with you, he should've known there was no turning back. Being close to you like that, of course, he'd want more.

He's barely registering Hoseok's question beside him, between the sips of liquor. “What is she then?” You were a lot of things. Except his. Never realized how devastating that would be until recently. Until you weren't a constant anymore, because he messed up.

And seeing you tonight, in that dress. Legs peaking out with each bold step of your pretty heels. He's felt those legs, wrapped firmly around his waist and beneath his hands. Soft. And warm. A lot like you. How could he not look? When you were right there being everything he wanted, how could he not look?

“She's... kinda sexy.” Eyes widening at his own words, forgetting for a moment who he was talking to. “I don't know, it was just an observation,” He rushes out, a light tint taking over his cheeks.

Hoseok laughs, tilting his head to look up at the man beside him. It's funny, despite the height difference, Hoseok still maintains his intimidating aura. Could have anyone quivering with a single glance. Well, anyone would didn't know how sweet and gentle the guy really was. Still, he's got an image to upkeep. “Did you just call my sister sexy?”

Joon is amongst the select few that know the big and scary Jung Hoseok is not as big and scary as he likes to act. So he doesn't falter, much. “She is sexy. I mean, look at her.” He's gesturing to the dance floor, where you're being spun and dipped. “When did that happen? She's never...” Speaking mainly to himself, Joon's words trail off as he watches how good you look when you dance.

“Alright. I feel like I should tell you not to check out my sister right in front of me,” He had been joking at first, but the guy was basically drooling over you. Didn't know if he should provide a handkerchief or rip him a new one.

Joon's letting out a soft laugh, lifting his glass to take a sip from it. Attention shifting back to his friend. “You're twins. It's like I'm checking you out.”

This has Hoseok bursting into laughter, a look of disbelief taking over his features. “That does not make it any better!” Despite the warning, his eyes move to find you again. Only to find you're not where he had seen you last and your boyfriend was nowhere insight as you made your way over to where he stood.

A gasp is escaping from Joon's lips before he has a chance to mask it. “Oh God, shut up. She's walking over here,” His hand reaching to hit Hoseok's chest, signaling for him to straighten up as he does the same. “Quick. Pretend I said something funny,”

He's not granted the laughter that he expects, instead, a confused expression takes over Hoseok's features as his sister approaches. “Our father would like to speak with us upstairs,” You don't even spare a glance in Joon's direction.

“What for?” You shrug. Of course, you wouldn't know something like that. You never knew the reason behind random summoning, just grew accustomed to despising them. “We can go when Ti-Lee comes out of the bathroom,” He's really doubled down on this girlfriend thing, it seemed.

With a nod, you turn to walk away. The familiar sound of Joon's voice stopping you, “You look pretty, Yn.” You hate the way your heart instantly reacts to the compliment. The three words that you've been hearing all night because of course, you'd look pretty. But for some reason, it feels different coming from him.

But, you wouldn't allow yourself to be swooned by that. He's made it clear where he stands when it comes to you. “Thanks. My date thinks so too,” It's sad how you enjoy the annoyed expression that flashes over his features, quickly being masked by surprise.

“Oh. You brought a date?” As if he didn't know. As if he hadn't spent the majority of the night watching you. So obviously, too. Did he think you wouldn't pick up on it? Though, you'll play along. “Mhm. Hyungwon. He's over there,” You point him out with an outstretched arm, leaning against the bar with the task of getting you a drink.

Most times, Namjoon was pretty good at keeping his thoughts from slipping. Screening them to make sure that he doesn't say anything compromising. Something that he finds harder to do with you involved. “Why'd you bring a date?” Why wouldn't you bring a date? Is on the tip of your tongue.

He's all but screamed that he wanted nothing deeper with you, what with his refusal to speak on things that are clearly bothering him. He was interested, but not as interested as someone would like. And too much of a coward to say so. What was he so afraid of? It's not like you were some pure inexperienced child, you've gone through one night stands before.

If that was all he wanted, he should've just said that. Instead of leaving you to come to the conclusion on your own. Putting together the pieces he so begrudgingly gave to you. Nevermind what Yoongi claims, what he's said to you in the past. That doesn't matter. What matters is how he acts on it and Namjoon hasn't acted at all.

And you certainly weren't going to be the only one out in the wind. “It's a ball? I need someone to dance with... who are you gonna dance with?” A subtle jab, as if you hadn't noticed that he showed up with nobody on his arm tonight.

“I don't really dance much,” His reply is sheepish and meek, you barely hear the words coming from his lips.

You're letting out a hummed sigh and a practiced smile, “That's too bad. Maybe, I'll let you twirl me a few times. It is a charity event after all,” With that you're walking away, promising that you'll follow your brother upstairs when he goes and not sparing another glance at Namjoon.

Hoseok manages to hold his laughter until you're out of earshot, bending forward as he clutches his side. Thick chuckles falling from his lips and filling the space. Joon stays stood beside him, a glare shadowing his features, knowing that he's laughing at him and not being able to be mad at it. The entire situation was laughable in the worst way.

“Oof,” He breaths out after calming, straightening, and letting out a deep breath. “You really pissed her off. What did you do?” He almost delves into all the issues in his head with your brother but holds back for the sake of not getting himself in trouble. Admitting that he actually slept with you to your brother... not a great idea.

Instead, he decides to go with someone he knows Hoseok already knows. “ think she's still pissed I called her superficial... and self-centered,” Not his brightest moment, he was upset, but that wasn't an excuse. It wasn't something he made up, the evidence was right there. But you weren't only that, he knew that.

And chose to ignore it.

“That'll do it.” Hoseok answers with a sure nod. “She hates when people tell her about herself. Especially if they're right,” Of course, he knew how his sister was. How you acted and treated the people around you. You were everything a superficial, self-centered person could be.

Only the people close to you, the people that you felt comfortable with knew that there was more to it. So keen on keeping everyone at an arm's length, you choose to allow the immediate assumption pass, to keep from getting too close. It was better that way. Not often did you meet someone you desired to get to know deeper, to know you.

It felt like that with Joon sometimes, a lot of the time. And you did try to get him to see that you weren't what everyone thought, but it didn't work as well as you had hoped. You were still the same to him.

He's letting out a huff, fingers pushing through his hair. Frustration creeping up the back of his neck. “I didn't think she'd take it to heart! It was just an observation, I didn't mean...” He didn't mean to hurt you, wouldn't imagine it. He wished he could just tell you everything.

How he felt about you, how badly he wanted to be with him – and wanted you to want to be with him. If only it would ruin everything. Although, everything was already ruined... right?

“Why do you feel bad about it now?” Hoseok is fully invested in this conversation now, picking up on the pieces he's missing in the story of you and Namjoon. “Is it because she looks pretty and she's with some guy?”

“No!” There was more to it than just jealousy. As much as he wanted to be in Hyungwon's place, there... was there? “I mean.. yeah?” No, there had to be more. He didn't just want you because he didn't have you. He wanted you because you were you and he didn't quite get it, but he felt it whenever he was with you. It had nothing to do with being jealous. “No! Because she's... she's, her, you know? And she's nice to me, right? So I shouldn't be mean to her?”

Much harder to put into words under your brother's expectant gaze. How was he supposed to explain his feelings when he didn't quite understand them himself. When he hasn't even told you about them properly.

Realizing, he's not going to be getting any more information out of the man, Hoseok is nodding. Eyes searching to find his girlfriend in the crowd, only now remembering that he was expected to meet with his father. “Look, if you think you should apologize, go for it. But don't fuck with her head,” A pointed finger follows his stern warning.

No room is left for Namjoon to respond, Hoseok offering a quick goodbye before he stalks off to wrap himself around the pretty redhead he first arrived with. Whispering something to her before leading her out of the hall and you're just a few steps behind them.

MAY 23RD, 2020 | 21:09

You're told to leave the moment your father's eyes set on the woman wrapped around your brother's waist. Deciding that he'd much rather discuss a different matter tonight than what he had originally planned when he called the both of you away. You protest, of course, not wanting to leave him to get in trouble. Even though, he's never done the same for you.

The threats and ultimatums that you knew were coming, he wouldn't be able to handle it. Would more than likely bend at your father's will because he knew nothing else. Ready to do whatever to keep the peace, even if it was against what he wanted.

Hoseok is the one that asks you to leave, though. Shooing you away with a reassuring smile and while hesitant, you still leave. Offering a soft smile over to Ti-lee who looks as nervous as ever.

The first person you lay eyes on when you're reentering the room is no other than Kim Namjoon. Stood in the same spot as before, now engaged in conversation with both Jungkook and Jimin. His eyes lift, just for a moment, before he's spotting you. Offering up the first smile he's shown you in the past few days.

And you hate how quickly your body reacts to the twitch of the lip. You should be focusing on moving on, forgetting everything that happened between the two of you. It was nothing. He surely thought so, no matter how many lousy smiles he flashes in your direction. It didn't change anything. He didn't want to be with you.

Ugh, but you wanted him to be.

More than ready to stamp your foot and ball your fists until you were getting what you want. Yet, you had an inkling that no matter the size of your objection – it still wouldn't change anything. Wouldn't change his mind or his heart. It was a fluke, it had to be. Why else would he have pulled back the way he had.

Which is the reason you can't fathom why he'd be making his way over to you right now. Slipping through the crowd of strangers until he's standing right in front of you, with that same smile on his face. “Can I dance with you, now?” His voice just above a whisper and you really wished he'd stop confusing you.

And you wish, you'd stop letting him. “Sure,”

He takes you and leads you into the crowd of dancing bodies, hand placed lightly on the middle of the back as the two of you move to the music. His hand is so big in your hand, the feel of it reminding you of your first night together. Your first date. Hardly two weeks ago, but it felt like much longer.

You don't speak for a while, allow yourself to imagine that it is like this. Simple. That you're with him and he wants to be with you, despite whatever's holding him back. That he talks to you, instead of leaving you in the dark. That you're happy. As pathetic as it may seem, you were always happy with him.

Never even had to do much, he just knew how to bring a smile to your face. Whether it was catching the subtle blush on his cheeks when you teased him or when he was letting himself go around you, being bold. You liked it most when he threw caution to the wind, your heart did too.

And you had thought you'd be seeing much more of that. But maybe you were wrong...

The sound of him clearing his throat, pulls you from your thoughts, training your full attention on him. He looks nervous. “Did... Did I hurt your feelings when I said... those things?” How fragile did he think you were? Expected to have you curled up crying over being told something that you've known your whole life?

Yeah, right. Your feelings weren't hurt, but that didn't mean it was something that you'd like to hear from someone you thought was starting to see you differently. Someone that you thought liked you. It was annoying.

“No. I love being insulted,” Words dry, yet dripping with sarcasm.

He sighs, “I wasn't trying to insult you,”

The humorless laugh that leaves your lips is unexpected even to you, but you do little to suppress it once it slips. “You were trying to compliment me?” Bewildered, of course. If that was his idea of a compliment... well, maybe you had him pegged wrong.

“No. I just... I noticed, so I said it,” Namjoon is quickly realizing that's not the best answer in trying to mend things. Even though you tried to act as if you didn't care, it was obvious to him that his words held some gravity to you. That it bothered you to hear that from him, he could see through your entire act.

Calling you out on it would just lead to more mess, though. “I'm not saying you're not that, we both know you are. I just shouldn't have judged you on it. You're a lot more,” He had misjudged you when you first met, assumed that there weren't that many layers to you. But he was so wrong.

You were complicated and sensitive and extremely loving. And he enjoyed discovering every new aspect of you the closer he got to you. All things that had him so taken with you. He wanted to learn more, he wanted to try and figure things out. Hated how quickly the flame went out. He wanted that back.

“Yeah?” It's hard to mask the smile that fights its way onto your lips. “What am I?” Honestly, you don't want to sound as hopeful as you feel, but you can't help it. To hear, finally, what he really thinks of you... and maybe what else has been going on in his mind. What has been blocking him from you?

But Joon is terrible on the spot and is quickly clamming up under your gaze. The list he had created mere moments ago fleeting from his memory, only one word behind. And it's not the right one. “Pretty. I mean...” Desperately trying to search for the right words, but you're already rolling your eyes.

“Well, look who's superficial now.” You scoff, but you don't sound mad. Playful even. The teasing tone that he's grown used to in these past few weeks. It has him thinking, maybe he might still have a chance. “I know I'm pretty. And I know I'm spoiled and self-centered. But, I also know I'm intelligent. Outgoing. Kindhearted.” You tick each characteristic on your fingers. “You didn't care about any of that. Didn't even care to mention it,”

“I know. I'm sorry.” The two of you needed to talk, he's only now realizing how badly. There were so many things that he needed to tell you and in turn, so many things that he wanted to hear from you. If you weren't going to be together, at least you could clear the air. At least both of you could do without the confusion weighing over your hearts.

And it had to be now, no more of this waiting around bullshit. He's already lost two weeks of potentially being with you. He was done screwing around. “Should we go somewhere to talk?”

You don't think there's been a time you were invited to 'go somewhere to talk' and actually talked about anything. It annoys you how easily the words crush your spirit, proving how little control you had over your emotions when it came to him. And to make matters worse, you wanted to go with him.

Whether you were actually talking to correct things or just fooling around as you suspected was his intention. No matter what it was, you wanted to go along with him and that was scared as fuck. Still, you were far from becoming a bobblehead yes-woman at the mere mention of being alone with him.

Keeping your composure was at the top of the list. So you play into it, fingers crawling up his shoulder, to tangle in the hair at the nape of his neck. “You want to sleep with me tonight, huh?” His eyes widen, obviously surprised that you've caught on.

Namjoon is shocked. How you'd get that from wanting to talk to you. Honestly, what went on in that head of yours, he'd love to know. But, while talking to you was at the utmost of importance... there was no way he could deny that being with you like that again would be nice. The moment held residence in his mind since that night and seeing you every day, looking the way you do did not help.

But, was this a test? Was he not supposed to want to sleep with you because your relationship... if it could even be called that, wasn't in the state to be even further complicated by doing such things. Were you testing him?

“What's the right answer to this?”

He loves the way you play with his hair, nails gently scraping against his scalp. “No right answer. It's just what you want,” You're voice is all hushed and sensual, staring up at him through the ridiculously long lashes you've glued on. Which he always finds pretty.

“Uhm. Yes?”

You don't even miss a beat. “Why?”

It had been a test. At least he thinks so, why else would you be asking him why he wanted to sleep with you. He's sure he fucked up, yet again. “No right answer?”

Shaking your head, you smile. And it's a real smile. “No right answer.” Maybe he was wrong? Maybe you just wanted to know?

Joon was hardly doing anything without thinking it through it thoroughly first. He'd overthink into oblivion if it was possible. And like he wanted to know why you liked him, a question that you had fumbled, thinking it was a joke – you wanted to know why he wanted to sleep with you. Didn't really care for the answer, it would change much.

You just wanted to know.

“I like the way you look in your dress,” He's confessing because it's the truth. “And your waist feels good in my hands... you smell so sweet, and...” And I miss you. He can't seem to get his lips to form the words, the ambiguity of our situation holding him back. He didn't want to be the only one out in the wind.

Curious, you prompt. “And?”

“And, I want you.” He figures that should suffice. Doesn't give way to anything deeper that might scare you off. You can want someone without longing for them, right? Although, he did, very much long for you.

That was a conversation to be had at another time, though, because you're grinning. Leaning up on your toes to press a soft kiss to his cheek and he swears he feels his heart leap from his chest. And as quickly as you closed in on him, you're back away, with a mischievous look in your eye.

Fingers dipping into the cleavage of your dress and he's not ashamed to admit that amount of attention he pays to them until you're presenting a key from your breast, extending it out to him.

“My rooms on the top floor. I'll meet you up there,” First, you've got to say goodnight to Hyungwon. You try not to look so excited when you walk away, even though it's buzzing from your pores. It was weird. Feeling this hopeful by having a man up to your room, it certainly wast' the first time.

But, Namjoon wasn't any ordinary man. He was different in ways you could no describe. You liked him and there was something there. You knew it, you could feel it. And no matter how cool he tried to act. You're sure he could feel it too.

MAY 23RD, 2020 | 22:11

You find Hyungwon just as he's leading a pretty girl to his car. The slight stumble in his step giving way to how many drinks he's had tonight. He grins when he sees you, leaning down to plant a kiss on your cheek that earns you a scowl from the girl beside him. Wait till she found out you were his girlfriend.

In no mood to spoil their night, you're quick with your goodbye. Letting him know that you'd be fine to find your own way home, which he quickly meets with his suspicions of you going back inside to meet Namjoon. A lady never tells, so he's whooping with excitement when you confirm it.

He's kissing you before slipping into the back seat of the car, the girl following behind him. The scowl not once leaving her features as she passes you. Lifting your hand to wave them off, because you can't help yourself. And you have every intention to go find Namjoon in your room, but you're being met with a sad looking Hoseok the moment you turn.

“I have to break up with Ti-Lee,” He's saying before you have the chance to ask him what's wrong. You're rushing to him, an arm wrapping around his shoulders. He looks so torn, on the verge of tears. You feel tears well at the brim of your eyes from the sight. “Why?” Asking, even though you already know the answer.

A frustrated sigh leaves his lips as he wiggles from your grip, the sad look on his face replaced with this hard expression that does not suit him at all. “She doesn't suit me. I should be with someone... else,” His words are so robotic, not even hiding that he's literally repeating exactly what your father has told him.

Now, if it were you, you'd laugh it off with a great big 'fuck you', but Hoseok wasn't like you. So, it wasn't going to be that easy to get him to see, that no he shouldn't. “Uhm. Do you want to be with someone else?”

He had been so excited to introduce Ti-Lee, not only to your family but to anyone who was willing to listen. Anyone with eyes could see how smitten the boy was with her and you knew your brother, it wasn't easy to grasp and keep his attention.

And he knew that too. Never has he met someone like his girlfriend. He had no idea it would end up like this when they first met, either. Had been prepared to sum it up to nothing more than a casual hook up, but then he was left wanting and wondering. Wondering what she was doing, how she was doing, if she was thinking about him, how she'd feel to know that he was thinking about her.

It was sudden, the way he fell for her. In the middle of his busy life, where he swore he didn't have time for anything else. And then she was stepping in and it was like he couldn't really enjoy anything else. “No.”

“Then what the fuck are you talking about!?”

You see the annoyance wash over his features, shifting into anger. No doubt replaying the conversation he must've just had. But just as soon as it appears, it's gone. “Dad said it would be in my best interest if-”

With a firm shake of your head, you're cutting him off. “He doesn't care about your best interest, Hoseok.” It was about time he flat out heard it. That man didn't care about anyone but himself and he had everyone, even his own son fooled. But not you. “What could be wrong with Ti-Lee?”

“She doesn't even have a real job,” He's saying, but he doesn't mean it. The words don't even sound like his, because you know for a fact your brother doesn't care about things like that. “That wasn't a problem to you before. What's wrong with Ti-Lee?”

He's offering up another recycled reason on your father's list of unsuitables. “She could be with me for my money,” You actually laugh at that one. The both of you knew how to sniff out money-hungry people trying to nuzzle into your lives. There's no way he'd let Ti-Lee get this close if he thought that was the case.

But, you point out for his sake. “She makes her own money. What's wrong with Ti-Lee?”

You're more than ready to poke holes through any of his bullshit reasons on why he shouldn't be with this girl. Reasons that you know he doesn't even believe himself. A loud groan leaves his lips, hands pushing through his hair.

“Nothing's wrong with her! She's perfect but... but, I have to break up with her, Yn. You wouldn't understand,” You're actually the only person in the entire world that would understand. And also the only person in the entire world that can honestly tell him that it wouldn't be worth it.

Back when you tried to earn your father's affection or even a few words of praise. Anything. You tried so hard, but every last one of your efforts were met with nothing. Absolutely nothing. Not even a second glance. It didn't take you long to put together that nothing really impressed your father, so might as well enjoy yourself if he was going to scowl at everything.

Hoseok has yet to realize this, but he'd never really be happy until he stopped being so compliant. “No, that's not fair. I won't let you do it.” Putting your foot down literally, which may look childish... but you mean business. “You like her! Like actually like her. You don't like anyone, Hoseok. That's not fair.”

“Come on, do you really think dad would have m do anything he didn't think was best?” Was he brainwashed? What parent would so deliberately stand in the way of their kid's happiness and claim that it's in their best interest? That wasn't parenthood. Like at all.

It was a fucking dictatorship. “Hobi,” You've gotta reach to grasp his shoulders as you speak, eyes trained on his. “Dad doesn't give a shit about you.” Speaking slowly in hopes that the words will penetrate through his rose-colored glasses.

He's knocking your hands off with a scoff and a roll of his eyes. “What? Now you're being ridiculous.” Right, how could he not give a shit about him? That was his favorite after all. Of course, all of his shits were given and served directly to him. Dumbass.

“I'm serious! He only gives a fuck because you fit into his perfect plan. Successful rapper, more than ready to take over. The second something doesn't fit, he's cutting it out. Regardless of how it makes you feel. Why weren't you able to start your clothing line?” He had spent weeks meeting up with designers and artists, creating the basis of the brand he'd name after his very first album.

And right when things were starting to take off, it was being decided that he was spending too much time on things of no value. That he should be more focused on making music rather than trying to appeal to his fans with flashy things. The fact that he was having the most fun didn't matter. Making music. Money for the company.

That. That was more important.

“Because it wasn't a good idea.” And Hoseok had himself convinced that it was his idea to quit. Didn't even fight it when things started tumbling down, just went along with it like he always did.

You had bugged him for weeks about it but gave up after you realized you weren't getting anywhere. He was fucking brainwashed. “No, because it wasn't apart of the plan. So he made sure it didn't happen. He's got you under his thumb, Hobi. Wake up!”

He's getting mad and you can see it. But he has no idea where to direct it. You make sense and he hates that you do. Yet, he can't bring himself to believe that his dad would be setting him up for anything but success. He was his prodigy. It's always been that way, so why now would it be any different?

You were wrong. “No. You don't know what you're talking about. It might be that way for you, Yn. But you're a fuck up. What do you expect? You can't clump us together.” His words cut deeper than he intends. And you find yourself stepping back from him, blinking through the heaviness behind your eyes.

“I'm not a fuck up,” You don't even sound like yourself, all weak and wounded.

His words are fast. “Yes, you are. Every chance you get, you fuck up. And just because you've been keeping your shit lately doesn't change anything. Does it?” He was mad at you and all you were trying to do was help him.

All you ever did was try and help him. Because he was too stupid to see things as they were. Convinced that everything was perfect and you both had such a great dad.. all you needed to do was clean up your act. Be better and he'll treat you as well as he treats me. When that wasn't the case at all.

It's almost laughable, how little he knew about the man he idolized. “That's funny. The only reason why I've been 'keeping my shit' is because of you! Your fucking dad threatened me with you. Told me if I were to make another mistake he'd tank your album. Oh, but he cares about you, right? Why would he leave that in the hands of a fuck up?”

The rejection is instant, dismissing your words with a shake of his head. “You're lying.” He concludes. Not seeing any other outcome to this. What you were saying couldn't be true. There's no way his own dad would gamble on his work. No way.

“I don't lie and you know that. Let's go ask him,” Voice sounding a bit too chipper for the circumstance, but this was a long time coming.

Reaching for his hand, you're tugging him back into the hall, leading him straight to the table where your father sits. Completely forgetting about Namjoon waiting for you upstairs.

— daughter of the ceo of the biggest record label, it’s obvious she’d get whatever and whoever she wants. but what happens when she’s meeting the one person that refuses to play into her spoiled brat act?

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gamerwoo · 3 years

Text

Seventeen: Welcome to Caratland (End)

Characters: Seventeen x reader (gender neutral)

Genre/warnings: horror/halloween au, choose your own adventure au, horror au, angst, murder, major character death,

Summary: The night before Halloween, you and your 13 friends decide to go explore the infamous abandoned amusement park: Caratland, where it’s rumored that rides start on their own, empty mascot suits are seen walking around, and people don’t return the same as when they left. Can you and your friends survive the night in Caratland?

a/n: realizing halloween is coming up, i’ve decided to FINALLY finish the au i did last halloween. for those who kept up with it: i’m sorry for discontinuing it. there was hardly any interaction with it so i just lost interest and motivation. and the lack of interaction is why i decided to just put all the choices in this part so you can see all the endings and whatnot. i’m sorry it took so long to wrap things up and there will probably be mistakes so i’m sorry about that, but i hope you all still enjoy it. ALSO LMK WHICH PATH/ENDING YOU GET FIRST TIME AROUND!!!

Tag list: @sadienita @xummie @mingoats @xxbluestrifexx @kwanseo @junhaoshua @allegxdly

Previous | Caratland Masterlist

[NOTE: there will probably be mix-ups with paths and endings because i literally just did all of this in 3 days and posted without anyone proof reading it. i will go through everything later to fix and edit things, so please be patient with me!!!]

»»————-　　————-««

16 -- A

“It’s probably best to go back to the breach, right?” you decided. “We know it’s there so it’s the best way to get back.”

“_____ has a point,” Wonwoo shrugged.

“Alright, everyone head back to the hole -- and don’t get split up,” Seungcheol stated before deciding to take the lead.

“Okay, but if I see one of those glorified Chuck E. Cheese mascots coming toward us, I’m leaving all of you behind,” Seungkwan muttered as he followed with the group.

All of you were glancing around trying to keep an eye out for the animatronics, while also trying to quickly and quietly make your way back to the way you’d gotten into the park. You kept mentally kicking yourself for convincing your friends to come here. If it wasn’t for you, you wouldn’t be in this mess in the first place. You were just lucky everyone was still here...

The gates were starting to come into view, and you felt relief begin to course through you. Your legs were starting to move faster on their own, just wanting to get out of this living nightmare.

Seungcheol shooting his arms out to stop the group was what had you skid to a stop. He whispered loudly for everyone to get down behind the nearby shrubs and two trash bins. The fourteen of you poked your heads around to see what had gotten him to act like this, and your heart sank at what you saw

Serenity was blocking the hole in the fence.

“Fuck,” Jeonghan hissed.

“We’re gonna die here...” Seokmin whispered, but Wonwoo was quick to comfort him.

“What’s the plan now?” Hansol wondered.

“I know it’ll risk us going to jail or something,” Jihoon began, “but I think it’s time we just cave and call someone.”

“No, I’m not going back there!” Seungkwan whispered intensely.

Your eyebrows furrowed as your turned to look at him, “Excuse me?”

“I’d rather get arrested than get murdered,” Mingyu insisted. “At least we know we’ll be safe and alive in jail.”

You made a face, “Will we, though?”

“Listen,” Hansol interrupted as he pulled out his phone, “I’ll just call my parents -- they’re really chill. And worse case scenario, they just lecture us.”

But as he went to make the call, all his phone did was beep at him like the line was busy. He took the phone away from his ear and looked down, furrowing his eyebrows.

“We had service all night, right?” he asked.

“Yeah...?” Joshua replied.

“Well now I don’t for some reason,” he said, turning his phone screen to show his friends.

Mingyu’s eyes widened, “You’re kidding.”

Then everyone, including you, were taking out their phones and checking for service. Just like Hansol, you had no bars.

Unfortunately, everyone else was in the same boat.

Now, Seokmin was on the verge of tears, “We’re going to die here!”

“Don’t get hysterical yet,” Minghao told him. “There’s gotta be a way out of this. Even if we have to wait around until morning, we can probably out-run these hunks of metal.”

“Y’know, I heard a friend of a friend snuck in here once,” Soonyoung began. “Some dude Changkyun knows. He said there’s apparently some sort of underground exit under the food court.”

“At this point, we’ll have to try anything,” Wonwoo sighed.

“So back to the food court?” Seungcheol practically whined.

You took a deep breath, “Unfortunately, yeah.”

[GO TO: 17 -- A]

»»————-　　————-««

16 -- B

“Does anyone even remember where the hole in the fence is?” you asked.

Everyone either gave you blank stares or shook their heads. You let out a sigh.

“Alternate way it is,” Minghao shrugged.

“Let’s just hang here until someone thinks of something,” Seungcheol suggested. “We’re all here, and I think those things are still hanging around wherever we were before. It’ll take a while before we see them again.”

So the fourteen of you hung out at the merry-go-round. Most of you leaned up against the horses or found yourselves sitting down on them. A few of you sat on the two steps of the platform. Chan and Wonwoo were sitting in one of the carriages that most families or parents sat in. All of you were scrolling on your phones or looking at someone else’s phone, trying to research anything about Caratland that might help you find a way out. Maybe a map or a blueprint or something might come up.

Suddenly, the ride jerked. You almost fell over onto Junhui as the ride began turning slowly, the music trying to play but the wiring was too old and worn that it just sounded demonic at best.

“Ha ha, very funny,” Jihoon scoffed. “Who turned on the ride?”

The question was overlooked by Mingyu’s shriek. Every head who was on his side of the merry-go-round whipped over to see Bongbong sitting on a horse only a few rows away from the tall boy. But another scream from Seungkwan was what brought attention to the answer to Jihoon’s question.

Eight was standing at the controls of the ride, his never-changing smile on his face as he slowly waved.

“Run!” Joshua called, leaping off of the horse he was sitting sideways on.

“Run where?” Seokmin called as he scrambled to get off the ride and jump the short fence.

“Food court!” Soonyoung shouted as he pumped his legs as fast as they would go. “It’s a long shot...but I have an idea!”

“I’d rather know the idea first!” Jeonghan called after him as the group ran together away from the merry-go-round.

“One of Changkyun’s friends apparently broke in before!” he tried to explain between breaths. “He said there’s an underground exit there! Who knows if it’s legit, but...”

But it was the only plan they had.

[GO TO: 17 -- A]

»»————-　　————-««

17 -- A

All of you had to squeeze through the tiny basement windows to get back in after finding the doors to be locked once again.

“How’d those fuckers get out in the first place?” Jeonghan huffed as he landed on the concrete floor of the basement. “The doors have been locked this entire time.”

“We’re being chased by animatronics that haven’t been functioning for years, and they’re out to kill us for some reason, and that’s what you’re going to question?” Soonyoung pointed out.

“Can we focus, please?” Seungcheol whined. “The sooner we find this secret eit, the sooner we’re free.”

“Everyone start searching,” Hansol said, waiving for everyone to scour the basement.

All of you searched every inch you could. The floor, the walls, shelves, behind old cupboards and props -- but there was nothing.

“What if it’s not here?” Chan suggested.

“Yeah? And where else would an underground exit be other than in the basement?” Jeonghan shot back.

The youngest frowned and rolled his eyes, “Soonyoung just said it was underground, he didn’t say under what part of the food court.”

“I mean...Jeonghan has a point,” Seokmin admitted hesitantly. “The basement is underground.”

[TO GO UPSTAIRS TO THE FOOD COURT GO TO: 18 -- A]

[TO CONTINUE SEARCHING THE BASEMENT GO TO: 18 -- B]

»»————-　　————-««

18 -- A

“It can’t hurt to check somewhere else,” you spoke up, moving to stand beside Chan. “We’re looked everywhere down here. What if it’s not in the basement? There could be some secret tunnel under a different location and we’re just going to be here wasting our time.”

“I mean...yeah, that makes sense,” Jihoon decided with a shrug. “Alright, we’ll try back upstairs.”

“I don’t wanna go back up there...” Seokmin whined, clinging to the nearest person -- it happened to be Junhui.

“We’re all going,” you reassured him with a soft smile. “Let’s go. Nothing’s going to happen.”

You led the way up the stairs this time, but you found yourself going slow. You strained your ears for any noise on the other side of the basement door but the food court seemed to be quiet. Maybe the animatronics couldn’t get back in since the doors were locked.

You pushed the door open cautiously, poking your head out to glance around. It seemed empty, so you opened the door wider and let everyone else out.

“Is that e--”

SLAM!

All of you jumped back and turned around hearing the basement door slam shut behind the last person out.

“Fuck this, I want out,” Mingyu stated, shaking his head as he began to quickly walk away from the door.

“Hold up,” Wonwoo reached out and grabbed Mingyu’s wrist to keep him with the group. “We should stick together.”

“It probably just closed from the weight of the door anyway,” Minghao figured before going to pull on the door handle.

It didn’t budge.

“Move out of the way, toothpick,” Seungcheol smoothly pushed Minghao out of the way before trying the door himself.

Still nothing.

“D-did it...lock?” Chan asked slowly.

“Haha, would you look at that?” Seungkwan said, checking his wrist that very clearly didn’t have a watch on it. “I actually have to get the fuck out of here. Bye!”

“Maaaaybe,” Hansol grabbed him by the elbow and dragged him back, “don’t do that.”

“Yeah, nobody goes running off, got it?” Jihoon checked, shining his light at everyone to make sure they agreed to the new rule. “Shit’s too weird to be splitting up.”

“I think our best bet would be to hide in the security room until morning,” you spoke up. “It’s probably the safest place in here.”

“_____’s right,” Wonwoo nodded. “Let’s go -- and stick together.”

As a group, all of you made your way to the security room, with you, Jihoon, and Soonyoung leading the way. All of you had your lights, shining them around to make sure the entire area was safe until you made it to the security room and barricaded the door closed.

“Jesus Christ, I hated that,” Mingyu panted as if he had been holding his breath the entire time you were walking.

“I think I almost shit myself,” Soonyoung admitted.

“Imagine your last words being ‘I think I almost shit myself’,” Junhui snorted.

“Hang on, shut the fuck up,” Seungcheol snapped, holding a hand up as he quickly scanned the group in the room. He was trying to count heads while all of you were talking, and as he quickly recounted, his blood turned to ice. “Why are we one short?”

“One short?” Jeonghan asked.

“Someone’s missing,” he said urgently.

“Alright, let’s run attendance real quick,” Jihoon decided, trying to stay level-headed. He pulled out his phone and went to the group chat. “Obviously I’m here. Soonyoung?”

“Here.”

“Seungcheol?”

“Here.”

“Mingyu?”

“Unfortunately here.”

“Hansol?”

“Yup.”

“_____?”

“Here.”

“Joshua?”

Silence.

Jihoon looked up from his phone, repeating, “Josh?”

You and your friends looked around, trying to find Joshua’s face in the crowded room. But nobody spoke up, and the silence following Joshua’s name became deafening.

“Oh fuck...” you breathed, trying to not completely lose your shit. “Did we really lose Josh?”

“We have to go back for him,” Jeonghan insisted.

“What? No!” Seungkwan shouted. “That’s suicide!”

Then everyone was bickering. While everyone of course wanted to hope Joshua was safe, half of the group felt that going back out to look for him would mean all of them would get killed. The other half, on the other hand, were willing to risk their lives to go on a rescue mission.

[TO GO OUT LOOKING FOR JOSHUA GO TO: 19 -- A]

[TO STAY IN THE SECURITY ROOM GO TO: 19 -- B]

»»————-　　————-««

18 -- B

“I mean...how would it be under anywhere else?” you asked slowly with a shrug. “No offense, Chan. But like, this is kind of the only basement in the place.”

“See?” Jeonghan sneered.

Chan just frowned and rolled his eyes.

“There’s gotta be something we missed,” Soonyoung said, trying to stay calm. “Let’s just sweep the place over again.”

But after more looking, you still came up with nothing.

“At this point, I’m about to just dig through the boxes of old animatronic parts and just hope there’s a portal at the bottom or something,” Joshua sighed, slumped against a wall with Jeonghan beside him.

“Good luck,” Jeonghan scoffed. “I already tried picking one up to move them away from the wall but they’re super fucking heavy. It’s literally impossible.”

You turned your head to look at the large stack of boxes. There were piles of various sizes, but the ones at the back pressed up against the wall went up the highest. It was a long shot, but behind the boxes was the only place nobody checked because it couldn’t be reached. But with everyone giving up hope, it didn’t hurt to try, right?

“Hey, Gyu,” you spoke up before pointing to the boxes. “Think you can move those?”

Mingyu shrugged, “Yeah, probably.”

He walked over to the wall and began lifting boxes one-by-one. He grunted as he picked them up and moved them away until he called everyone over.

“There’s metal behind here!” he called over his shoulder.

“Ooh, is it the door?” Soonyoung asked excitedly, pushing himself off the floor.

“Told you it was better to look down here,” Jeonghan said once more.

Jihoon groaned, “Can you let it go? Leave Chan alone already.”

Seungcheol started assisting in the box-moving until the metal door was accessible. Seungcheol tried to push it open, but it didn’t budge. He tried harder, but still nothing.

“Can I try?” Mingyu asked.

Seungcheol stepped out of the way, gesturing for the tallest to give it a shot.

Mingyu threw his shoulder into the door a few times before it finally swung open, leading to a narrow corridor that looked like it would bring you straight to Hell.

“Okay,” Soonyoung breathed out, “let’s see if this is the way to freedom.”

[GO TO 20 -- A]

»»————-　　————-««

19 -- A

“Why is this an argument?!” you shouted over the bickering. “Our friend could be dead! I don’t care if nobody comes with me, but I’m going to find Josh.”

“I’ll go,” Jeonghan stated.

“Me too,” Hansol volunteered with a slight raise of his hand.

“Plus, I highly doubt an animatronic got him,” Minghao scoffed as he went to join your group as you went to open the door.

“Well...good luck with that,” Seungkwan nodded.

In the end, it was you leading the way, with Jeonghan, Hansol, Minghao, Seokmin, and Seungcheol tagging along -- the latter two clinging to each other as you opened the door and went down the short hallway to the door that read EMPLOYEES ONLY on the other side.

“Why would he split off from the group?” Jeonghan wondered. “If he were trying to prank you guys, he would’ve had me in on it.”

“Maybe he just--”

Your sentence was cut off by a scream -- your own scream. Your eyes saw the scene before you: Joshua’s body laying just in front of the EMPLOYEES ONLY door, a bloodied mess. All you could do was scream.

Standing over him, covered in what you could only assume was your friend’s blood, was Bongbong.

“_____, run!” Minghao shouted, grabbing your arm and yanking you away from the door.

He quickly reached for the door and slammed it closed as you and the others ran back down the short hall. Jihoon had poked his head out the door to see what the noise was, and you crashed right into him, hyperventilating as tears welled in your eyes.

God, that image was going to be burned into your brain forever.

“What happened?” he asked.

“J-J-Josh!” you sobbed.

“Those things are in here,” Minghao panted, closing the door to the security room and pressing his back. “Th-they got Josh.”

“You’re fucking with us,” Seungkwan said quietly and very unsurely.

“Would Minghao fuck with you?!” Jeonghan cried. “If you don’t believe us, why don’t you go out there and check for yourself, Kwan? Go get yourself traumatized!”

“Okay, don’t scream at him, it won’t help anything,” Wonwoo spoke up, trying to somehow keep the group put together.

“Let’s just focus on finding a way out,” Seungcheol decided in a shaky voice.

“U-um...guys?” Mingyu spoke up, staring into the monitors.

Everyone gathered over to see what he was looking at.

Each room had a camera and a monitor to go with it. In each room, stood an animatronic. Each camera had an animatronic staring into it, as if they all were staring at the group.

They knew where you were.

“We have to get out of here,” Seomin panted, beginning to hyperventilate. “They’re going to come in here and kill us!”

“I get it’s scary, but we have to stay calm and--”

“Hey!”

Everyone turned their heads a the sudden exclamation. Chan was standing beside a square metal door in the floor with some dusty boxes and wires he’d moved to find it. He smirked, gesturing to the door.

“While you guys were shitting your pants, I found the underground exit,” he stated.

“Well fuck, kid,” Jihoon whistled under his breath.

“Let’s get the hell outta here,” Soonyoung said as he threw the trapdoor opened and descended the ladder that led to a narrow corridor.

Chan gave Jeonghan a pointed look, “And you thought I was stupid.”

Jeonghan just rolled his eyes, “Whatever.”

[GO TO 20 -- A]

»»————-　　————-««

19 -- B

You felt like a shitty person for not wanting to risk your life for Joshua. You felt extremely guilty that you didn’t want to go out and look for your friend, but truthfully, you were afraid to die -- and that’s why half your friends didn’t want to go looking for him. Not everyone was brave enough to be a hero, and while you always told yourself you would be when putting yourself into the shoes of horror movie characters, it just wasn’t the truth.

But in the midst of the argument of whether or not to go out to search for Josh -- the argument that you stayed silent for -- Mingyu spoke up in a shaky voice, “U-uh...g-guys?”

Everyone turned toward him to see he was staring into the monitors. You all gathered over to see what he was looking at.

Each room had a camera and a monitor to go with it. However, the monitors had gone fuzzy so you couldn’t see anything in any of the rooms.

Wonwoo’s eyebrows furrowed, “Why are the cameras suddenly down?”

You wished they stayed that way after seeing what was displayed next. In each room, stood an animatronic. Each camera had an animatronic staring into it, as if they all were staring at the group.

They knew where you were.

Unfortunately, that wasn’t the most disturbing thing.

You could see on one of the monitors, Bongbong was standing in front of the camera holding a familiar body. Joshua was being held up by his neck, and blood was coming out of his mouth, nose, eyes, and even his ears.

You weren’t the only one to let out a scream and flinch away from the camera, hiding your face as you started panicking and crying.

“We have to get out of here,” Seomin panted, beginning to hyperventilate. “They’re going to come in here and kill us!”

“We have to find the fucking exit!” Seungcheol said in a panic. “Everyone go--”

“Hey!”

Everyone turned their heads a the sudden exclamation. Chan was standing beside a square metal door in the floor with some dusty boxes and wires he’d moved to find it. He was just staring at you like he hadn’t just witnessed what all of you did -- and maybe he didn’t because he was too busy searching.

“Way ahead of you,” he stated.

“Thank god,” Jihoon said under his breath.

“Let’s get the hell outta here,” Soonyoung said as he threw the trapdoor opened and descended the ladder that led to a narrow corridor.

Chan gave Jeonghan a pointed look, “And you thought I was stupid.”

Jeonghan just glared at him, “I’m not in the fucking mood.”

And then he went down the ladder.

[GO TO 20 -- A]

»»————-　　————-««

20 -- A

Other than only being wide enough for one person to walk through at a time, it was also very dimly-lit. It definitely looked like something straight out of a horror movie that would 100% lead to the characters’ imminent death.

Needless to say your heart was pounding in your ears.

There was another metal door, but this one was far easier to open. The squeak of it echoed down the corridor as the thirteen of you filed into the room. It seemed to be where they kept the spare mascot suits that actual employees would wear. There were a few of the bodies of the suits hanging up, with heads scattered in corners and on shelves, along with gloves and feet strewn about.

“I hate this,” Jun stated, looking around the room.

“I know these things are empty, but looking into their empty eyes is somehow worse,” Jihoon mumbled, staring at an Eight head.

At the opposite end of the tiny room in the right corner was another metal door. You were starting to wonder how many more metal doors you’d have to encounter in this place.

To the left of the room, there was a tiny wooden door that seemed like it would lead to a crawlspace. You assumed there was just more storage back there, but nobody cared enough to look back there, anyway. The focus was to get out of this place and get to safety.

“C’mon,” you nodded your head toward the other metal door that you assumed would lead to the exit, “let’s keep going.”

As Seungcheol went for the door, you and your friends heard banging. You all paused, Seungcheol’s hand on the handle. You listened for the banging again, and then looked to where it seemed to be coming from.

“Guys?” Joshua’s voice called from behind the small wooden door. “Guys?! Oh my god, guys! C-can you hear me? Hello?! Help me!”

“Josh?” Jeonghan took a step toward the door.

[TO HELP JOSHUA GO TO 21 -- A]

[TO CONTINUE TO THE EXIT GO TO 21 -- B]

»»————-　　————-««

21 -- A

“Joshua!” you cried as you ran to the small door.

You knew what your eyes saw, but was it possible none of it was real? How else would you be hearing Joshua’s voice? He must’ve been alive somehow. Anything seemed possible at this point.

You got down on your knees, opened the small door, and crawled your way through. You stood up as your friends tried to get in behind you, but what you saw made your heart fall into your stomach as your hands went to cover your mouth, muffling the loud sob that came out.

Joshua’s body was slumped against the left wall, looking just as you had remembered.

He was still dead.

Your friends had similar reactions to you. Seokmin even threw up.

Seungcheol shook his head slowly, eyes full of tears while some streaked his cheeks, “We... W-we have to bring his body...”

“He’s right,” Jihoon said solemnly -- his body seemed to be shutting down now, almost uncapable of processing his emotions. “We need evidence of what happened tonight. Nobody will believe us otherwise.”

“I-I hate to say it, b-but...it’ll s-slow us down, though,” Wonwoo interjected through his sniffles. “What if we don’t make it out?”

[TO TAKE JOSHUA’S BODY WITH YOU GO TO 22 -- A]

[TO LEAVE WITHOUT JOSHUA’S BODY GO TO 22 -- B]

»»————-　　————-««

21 -- B

You quickly reached out and grabbed Jeonghan to keep him from going any closer to that door. He turned to look at you, a pained expression on his face.

“Jeonghan, that’s not Joshua,” you told him. “You saw what happened to him. Whatever it is, it’s not him.”

“I think _____’s right,” Wonwoo nodded. “We need to keep going.”

You kept your hold on Jeonghan as all of your began filing out of the mascot room into another narrow corridor like the other one. This one, though, had a sharp right turn before leading down a while to another steel door.

But this door didn’t budge.

Soonyoung was at the head of the group, and he groaned in frustration as he tugged at the handle over and over again, “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me; what’s with these doors?!”

You started to hear a thumping. It slowly got louder and louder...

...Or maybe it was closer and closer.

Junhui walked down the way you’d come and poked his head around the corner, his eyes widening at what he saw. He whipped his head back around and booked it straight back to where your group was trying to open the door, calling, “You might wanna hurry up on that door!”

Coming down the hall were all four animatronics, their eyes lit up as they stomped closer and closer.

“It’s not doing anything!” Soonyoung huffed, trying with all his might to open the door. “Mingyu, get up here!”

Mingyu squeezed between bodies to get to the door, trying to open it as the group just shouted for him to be faster.

“We might have to just...face these things,” Chan said. “Once and for all.”

“Yeah? How?” Wonwoo scoffed. “They’ll crush us in seconds.”

“There’s fou-- thirteen of us, and four of them. We might have a shot.”

“Well hurry up and decide so we can at least put the strongest up against them first,” Junhui called.

[TO FACE THE ANIMATRONICS WHILE MINGYU KEEPS WORKING AT THE DOOR GO TO 23 -- A]

[TO FACE THE ANIMATRONICS TOGETHER GO TO 23 -- B]

[TO KEEP TRYING THE DOOR GO TO 23 -- C]

»»————-　　————-««

22 -- A

“We can’t just leave him here,” you stated. “Not only for the evidence, but because he doesn’t deserve to rot away here. His family doesn’t deserve to wonder what happened to him.”

“I’ll grab him,” Seungcheol offered, swallowing his fears and stepping forward to scoop up his friend. “Let’s get him home.”

Chan was the last into the tiny room, so he turned to go. But the wooden door was suddenly closed and wouldn’t open back up.

“What the hell?!” he grunted as he continued to try the door.

“Why’d you let it close, dumbass?!” Jeonghan demanded.

“I didn’t!” Chan shouted back. “It was just open!”

“Ugh, leave it to the fucking baby to--”

“G-guys?” Seokmin asked.

“Can you get off my fucking case?!” Chan huffed as he stood up and went to stand toe-to-toe with Jeonghan. “You’re always such a fucking asshole to me! Why can’t you--”

“Guys?” Seokmin tried again, looking between the left and right walls.

“Are you two really going to argue right now?” Jihoon groaned. “We’re literally--”

“Guys!” Seokmin finally shouted over everyone. “The walls!”

“What about the--”

Jihoon’s question died down as soon as all of you began looking at the walls. They were moving in toward each other, which would crush all of you between them.

Everyone was suddenly in a panic. Everyone was throwing themselves at the door, trying to tug it open before the walls could do anything. Some of you -- such as you and Wonwoo -- decided to spread out so you had more room. But some -- like Jeonghan and Chan, who grouped up by the door with a few others -- created a big human-lump that would be crushed faster. You heard their cries and pleas before they were crushed to death with a sound you couldn’t get out of your ears.

It was only a moment later you met the same fate.

[GO TO ENDING B]

»»————-　　————-««

22 -- B

"Nobody wants to be the asshole that says it’s better to leave him behind, but...” you trailed off.

Wonwoo was right. Joshua would more than likely slow you down. Besides, you knew Josh would want all of you to have the best chance of getting out alive as possible.

“Th-then you go ahead,” Seokmin spoke up, almost like he was afraid to.

“What?” Jihoon asked.

“I...” Seokmin looked at Joshua as more tears welled in his eyes. “It makes me sad to think he’d just be down here alone. I don’t care if he’s...gone. He can’t just stay down here.”

“I’m not leaving my best friend down here,” Jeonghan agreed.

“Seokmin, he’s--”

“Look, just go,” Hansol interrupted whatever Jihoon was going to say. “I’ll help them with the body. You guys just go on ahead.”

Minus the three who wanted to collect Joshua’s body, the group turned and left the small room and went back to the mascot room. Soonyoung tugged on the metal door and led the way down another corridor that looked exactly the same as the one that had led into the mascot room. This one, though, had a sharp right turn before leading down a while to another steel door.

But as you were walking down the hallway, you heard the yells and screams of your three friends. All of you turned on a dime and ran back toward the mascot room but the metal door was already closed and wouldn’t re-open for some reason. All of you were yelling and trying to open the door until you heard a sickening crunch, and then silence.

You all fell silent. You didn’t know what to do now.

“We--” Jihoon’s voice cracked so he cleared his throat. “We should just...keep going...”

Following behind Jihoon, you all turned one by one and went back down the hallway. You turned the corner and walked down that long hallway toward another metal door.

But this door didn’t budge.

Jihoon groaned in frustration as he tugged at the handle over and over again, “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me; what’s with these doors?!”

You started to hear a thumping. It slowly got louder and louder...

...Or maybe it was closer and closer.

Coming down the hall were all four animatronics, their eyes lit up as they stomped closer and closer.

“It’s not doing anything!” Soonyoung huffed, trying with all his might to open the door. “Mingyu, get up here!”

Mingyu squeezed between bodies to get to the door, trying to open it as the group just shouted for him to be faster.

“We might have to just...face these things,” Chan said. “Once and for all.”

“Yeah? How?” Wonwoo scoffed. “They’ll crush us in seconds.”

“There’s fou-- nine of us, and four of them. We might have a shot.”

“Well hurry up and decide so we can at least put the strongest up against them first,” Junhui called.

[TO FACE THE ANIMATRONICS WHILE MINGYU KEEPS WORKING AT THE DOOR GO TO 23 -- A]

[TO FACE THE ANIMATRONICS TOGETHER GO TO 23 -- B]

[TO KEEP TRYING THE DOOR GO TO 23 -- C]

»»————-　　————-««

23 -- A

“Mingyu, keep trying the door!” you called to him. “We’ll try to hold them back.”

“We?!” Seungkwan repeated.

Mingyu continued to try to pull the door open as the animatronics slowly turned the corner and began walking toward the nine of you. You weren’t sure how to prepare yourself for this at all, but you knew you couldn’t just turn your back and die.

But you should’ve known what would happen. Four giant machines up against eight fleshy humans who were nowhere near as strong. Sure, all of you were faster than them, but how could you dodge or run in such a narrow hallway? You were doomed from the start.

Well, not you specifically.

Seungcheol had shoved you to the back toward Mingyu, promising to keep you safe. So your friends all died in front of you, and all you could do was stand there and watch in horror.

That’s when Bongbong closed in on you.

“I got the--!”

Mingyu’s exclamation of finally getting the door open was cut off by Bongbong’s arm swinging out and clotheslining him into the wall and cutting off his oxygen.

The attack that was meant for you, but you had ducked underneath.

The light flooded into the corridor, and just like that, the animatronics just shut down. The light turned off in their eyes, and they were frozen with their hands reaching out for you.

Except Bongbong’s arm that was now frozen in place, keeping Mingyu strangled against the wall.

You could hear Mingyu gasping for air as you slowly opened your eyes that you’d squeezed shut when you ducked. You looked up and saw the animatronics were lifeless now, and then you shot up and turned to try to help Mingyu. You pulled and pulled on Bongbong’s arm while you had to watch Mingyu slowly die. It was like watching a movie in slow motion, the way his body went limp and the life drained from his eyes. Still, you stood there and sobbed and told him you’d free him as you continued to pull uselessly at the animatronic.

When it finally set in that you didn’t stand a chance, you ran out the back parking lot where the door opened to. You ran out of the park and to your car -- which was still parked near the other 3 that belonged to your friends that were no longer with you -- and drove off toward home with tears still streaming down your face.

The clock on your car radio said 6:08am.

[GO TO ENDING A]

»»————-　　————-««

23 -- B

“The door’s useless!” you cried. “We’re not going to just turn our backs and die. That’s not how I wanna go out.”

Nobody had any faith, but they knew you were right. Laying down and dying after all of this wasn’t worth it. If you died, at least you would die fighting.

But you should’ve known what would happen. Four giant machines up against nine fleshy humans who were nowhere near as strong. Sure, all of you were faster than them, but how could you dodge or run in such a narrow hallway? You were doomed from the start.

Seungcheol had shoved you to the back toward the door that wouldn’t open, promising to keep you safe. So your friends all died in front of you, and all you could do was stand there and watch in horror.

That’s when Bongbong closed in on you.

[GO TO ENDING B]

»»————-　　————-««

23 -- C

“The door will work!” you swore “Like the basement, remember? Just keep trying!”

Sure, this was different in the way that you had to pull and not push, but it had to give eventually, right?

You continued to face the animatronics that were now starting to close in on all of you. Seungcheol tried to squeeze in besided Mingyu, grabbing the handle and pulling with him. Jihoon crawled between Mingyu’s legs and stood in between the taller boy’s arms, both of his hands wrapped around the handle and tugging with everything he had.

You moved to put yourself in front of your friends. You got all of them into this mess, so you deserved to be the first to die.

As Bongbong closed in on you, you closed your eyes.

“_____--!”

The darkness you saw behind your eyelids suddenly seemed brighter, and you felt a gust of wind from behind you.

There was a couple seconds of silence.

“Holy shit,” Minghao breathed.

You opened one eye just enough to see Bongbong’s face just inches from yours. But...why were the lights in its eyes off?

You opened your eye wider. Then the other one. Its arm was only a hair away from you, but it made no move to actually touch you. There was also light flooding into the corridor from behind you. You whipped your head around to see the door was open, and you looked back at four animatronics. Were they off now?

“Oh my god,” you sighed in a shaky voice, taking a step backward toward the door.

“Let’s get the fuck out of here,” Wonwoo said as he grabbed your hand and all but dragged you out the door.

The door opened to the back of the parking lot. All of you ran as fast as you could toward your cars, only stopping at the hood of the closest one to catch your breath. Seungcheol pulled out his phone.

“It’s 6am,” he reported.

“Maybe that’s why the door didn’t open,” Wonwoo panted, hands on his knees.

“I don’t care to speculate,” Jihoon said as he went to get into one of the four cars. “Take me the fuck home.”

[GO TO ENDING C]

»»————-　　————-««

ENDING A

You weren’t sure what to do about the texts from the group chat when you got home. You swore everyone was dead. You watched them die in front of you.

Soonyoung said he was tripping balls the whole night.

Jeonghan agreed, saying he was sure there was something in the air making them hallucinate.

Even Jihoon was saying something weird had happened that night, because he thought he saw everyone die.

So...maybe they were right?

But when you inevitably went to school Halloween day, something didn’t seem right. Maybe it was because you hadn’t slept all night and you were drained in every sense, or maybe it was because you were convinced all of your friends had died right before your very eyes, but everything felt...off. At least, your friends did. It was their smiles and their voices and their hugs and laughs and promises that everything was fine, but something about it seemed alien to you.

Maybe it was from how emotionally and mentally drained you were, and the fact you didn’t get any sleep, but you swore there was an odd glow to their eyes that wasn’t just the glimmer of the florescents.

And why did Junhui wink at you?

[YOU AND ALL YOUR FRIENDS ESCAPED FROM CARATLAND...OR DID THEY?]

»»————-　　————-««

ENDING B

Get dressed.

Brush your teeth.

Brush your hair.

Go downstairs and converse with your parents.

Drive to school.

Say hello to your friends.

Laugh at what Soonyoung said.

Promise to walk to class with Seokmin and Seungcheol after you go to the bathroom.

Go into the bathroom.

Use the mirror to fix your outfit.

Use your fingers to brush through your hair one more time.

A light reflects off the mirror.

You are the only one in the bathroom.

[NONE OF YOU ESCAPED FROM CARATLAND BUT SOMETHING ELSE DID]

»»————-　　————-««

ENDING C

(NOTE: i know some people might’ve only had josh die while other had more people die. so this part will mention multiple people who didn’t make it home but i will only mention josh by name. sorry if it seems kind of confusing)

You didn’t even want to go back home after everything that happened. But you needed to shower and change, so you dropped your friends off before going home. After getting out of the shower, you checked your phone. Your heart dropped and your stomach was doing flips at what it saw.

One series of texts was from a group chat that was all of the people you were positive made it home from Caratland. All of them were wondering what the fuck was going on.

The other was the original group chat, with a text from Joshua asking if everyone made it home okay. It made a shiver go down your spine. How could he be texting? He died.

Those that had died started having a conversation about hallucinating, insisting something weird must’ve been in the air to make everyone trip and see things that didn’t actually happen. Nobody knew if it was possible. Minghao suggested that at this point, anything was possible. But still, why did all of you have the same hallucination?

The group decided it was best to ignore the message.

When Wonwoo offered to give you a ride to school, you said yes.

The two of you walked to homeroom together and saw the usual group of your friends sitting at the left side of the classroom. But seeing the friends you thought had died now just sitting there like nothing happened made your skin crawl. You wanted to turn around and walk out.

Wonwoo squeezed your hand and continued forward.

You sat and chatted with the group, and everyone seemed to be dancing around the fact that things were...weird. Maybe it was because you hadn’t slept all night and you were drained in every sense, or maybe it was because you were convinced all of your friends had died right before your very eyes, but everything felt...off. At least, your friends did. It was their smiles and their voices and their hugs and laughs and promises that everything was fine, but something about it seemed alien to you.

And why did Joshua wink at you?

[YOU AND ALL YOUR FRIENDS ESCAPED FROM CARATLAND...OR DID THEY?]

#seventeen #seventeen au #seventeen imagine #seventeen scenario #seventeen fanfic #seventeen series #seventeen x reader #seventeen text au #seventeen horror au #seventeen halloween au #seventeen aus #seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #seventeen fanfics #seventeen text aus #seventeen horror aus #seventeen halloween aus

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the-lady-writes-what · 4 years

Text

Like Father, Like Son

Summary:

You're minding your own business when your college bestie, Hitoshi Shinou, embarrassingly points out your big, fat crush on your very own teacher, Professor Aizawa. These things happen, right? You can't help yourself. But when Hitoshi starts to leave you cryptic messages, you're bidden to come to Aizawa's classroom. He's there and Hitoshi arrives. You're left wondering for a brief moment why these two men are in the same room together and with you. A kiss here and a grope there, you find out pretty quickly what they're up to.

College Professor!Eraserhead/Shouta Aizawa x Reader x College Student!Hitoshi Shinsou (19-22)

Hitoshi Shinsou has been aged up for this fic. I do not write for characters under the age of 18.

Content: oral (receiving and giving), cream pie, DILF, forbidden college professor, public sex, spanking, mild name calling, pet names, hair pulling, father and son tag team

---080---

Students shuffled in their desks at the bell's sound, which only served to perturb Professor Aizawa. However, he was too tired to chide them for not letting him dismiss them instead of the bell. You gathered your things and slid your backpack unto your shoulders. Butterflies swarmed your stomach. Barely nineteen, you came across your first adult crush when you walked into Professor Aizawa's classroom. To most, he didn't appear to be the first choice when it came to college crushes. He was lean and well-built to be sure (only you could tell beneath all that black he wore), but Professor Aizawa looked tired all the time. His scruffy face, messy hair, and rough personality did not make him a favorite among the female students. Most considered him too lazy to take care of his personal appearance.

But you?

The rough and tumble exterior made him unconventionally attractive. Those dark circles under his eyes were proof that he put in sleepless nights working for his students. His dark clothes showed off some of his well-earned muscles once you looked close enough. Aizawa's unshaven face just made him rugged and distinguished from the baby-faced freshman who tried hitting on you. This was a man, not a boy.

"Have a good evening, professor," you said in passing.

He didn't say anything in return as he gathered up the army of papers sitting on his desk. Without looking, he waved good-bye. You entered the halls and started making your way towards the cafeteria. Once you paid for your meager meal, you went to work finding your usual table with your friend. Hitoshi was easy to find. He was the quiet type whom many confused for an artist or a druggie. Something about him made you quiver a little too. He wore the same bored expression that almost matched Professor Aizawa's. Of the two men, Hitoshi was closer to your age than the professor. You sat down with butterflies returning to your stomach.

"How was class?" Hitoshi asked.

"Huh?" You'd been so busy trying to keep the butterflies at bay that you weren't paying that much attention.

"I said 'how was class?'"

"Oh. Uh, it was good," you answered.

"Staring at Professor Aizawa again?"

"Shut up! It's not like that you and you know it." You pouted.

"Is it?" Hitoshi teased. "I see the way you look at him. You make googly eyes whenever you see him in the hallways. It's almost sad, really."

"I don't make googly at Professor Aizawa. I just…admire from a distance."

"You could admire up close and personal," said Hitoshi, who then took a bite out of his cheeseburger.

Your face turned bright red. It wasn't illegal, though some prudes might consider the age difference scandalous. Professor Aizawa wasn't old at all, but he was almost twice your age. Besides, you didn't need to be one of those students who slept with their professor to get good grades or have rumors saying you did.

"Don't…don't joke like that." Or you just might take him seriously.

Later that night, as you lay in bed, your eyes stared vacantly at the ceiling. You couldn't find sleep even when you looked for it. As quiet as possible, you crept out of bed and made your way into the hall. You snuck past the RA's room, up the stairs, and crept into the boys' dorm. You heard behind closed doors snoring, late-night conversations, and even video games. You concerned yourself with only one room at the end of the hall. You gently knocked and waited with bated breath. You heard someone shuffling around and crossing the floor. The door opened.

"Do you know what time it is?" Hitoshi yawned.

"Yeah, yeah, I know. Can I come in?"

Hitoshi raised a questioning brow at you. "What for?"

"I can't sleep. Please?"

Hitoshi pulled the door open wider for you to enter. You ducked inside quickly in case the RA for the boys' dorms decided to make a late-night inspection.

"You're damn lucky Denki sneaked into his girlfriend's room earlier. Not that he'd snitch."

"Not unless he wants the RA's to know what he's been doing," you chuckled.

Hitoshi crawled into his bed but left space for you. You climbed in with him and pulled the covers over both of you. Hitoshi was the perfect gentleman and kept his hands to himself. Although, that was easy because he was already nodding back to sleep.

"Why were you awake at three in the morning?" Hitoshi yawned.

"I told you. I couldn't sleep."

"And sneaking into my room for G-rated pillow talk is going to help you fall asleep?"

"Maybe. Look, I," you paused.

"Yes?"

"I had a weird dream, okay?" You huffed this time.

"Oh?" Hitoshi's tone sounded curious if but a little tired.

"Yeah. I dreamed about…well. Okay. Promise me that you won't laugh."

"I can't make any promises."

You inhaled sharply through your nose and exhaled through your mouth.

"I dreamed of doing it with Professor Aizawa." You said in one breath.

You hid your face with your hands and waited for Hitoshi to bellow with laughter. You waited and waited. You felt the bed shift. Slowly, you moved your hands away from your face to see Hitoshi lying on his side. You expected to find a smug know-it-all smirk on his face, but Hitoshi looked a little humble. No. That wasn't right. Humble wasn't quite the word you'd describe his face at this moment. There was a certain kind of sadnessresting in his tired eyes, but you couldn't tell with any certainty because you lay down in darkness. Only the occasional wink from the moon spilled between the blinds gave you any light. His eyes kind of looked glassy in the shadows from little light you had.

"It gets worse," you muttered.

"What? Did Denki join in?" Hitoshi laughed, and it didn't escape your notice how bitter the noise sounded.

"No," you felt your cheeks warm as blood rushed to your face. "You did."

You felt Hitoshi's eyes on you. You made to get out of the bed to avoid an ugly, awkward conversation, but Hitoshi stayed your hand. By kissing you.

You didn't see it coming until it was too late. Hitoshi maneuvered on top of you before you could leave. His lips were on yours before you could ask what he was doing. His hands were on your waist, squeezing you. The kiss was hard, sudden, and begging for you to reciprocate. With a sigh, you caved. You didn't question it but fell headlong into the kiss. Your hands reached behind his neck and clasped fingers together. Just when you think one or both of his hands will wander under your shirt, Hitoshi pulls away.

In the dim moonlight, you see him smirking down at you and then plops right down into the bed. You are so dazed and confused that it takes you a full minute to realize what just happened. Hitoshi kissed full on the mouth then had the A-U-D-A-C-I-T-Y to pull away and go back to sleep. Hitoshi put his back towards you. You get on your side and shove his shoulders.

"What the hell was that about? You can't just…You can't leave a girl hanging?"

"It's also three AM, and I have an eight AM class. We'll talk about it in the morning," he said.

"You've got a girl in your room, and one who's perfectly willing and just going back to sleep?"

"Uh, huh."

You snatched the pillow from under his head and gave him a good smack a couple of times. You lay back down, turning your back to him. Sleep didn't come easily, but at least you didn't have more dreams.

Evidently, you and Hitoshi didn't talk that morning. When you woke up, he was gone. You quickly snuck back into your dorm and went immediately to your phone. No calls or texts from Hitoshi indicated that he didn't want to talk about it, and everything else was just a rouse. You swore that the next time you saw him, Hitoshi Shinsou was getting a piece of your mind, whether or not he liked the words you had to say. You texted him and even left a voicemail.

No response.

You cleaned up, walked to class, and sat down. Try as you might, you couldn't pull your head out of last night's events. Hitoshi kissed you so suddenly and then refused to talk about his feelings. Clearly, he had some about you but wasn't too fond of sharing them. You half-listened to the professor throughout and left your mind to wander. By the end of the lecture, your phone pinged. You snatched it up. Lo and behold, the little bastard texted you.

I'm sorry about last night. I didn't know how to put it into words. I'll meet you in Aizawa's classroom when you're done.

You rolled your eyes. You didn't reply but thought it would be better to get it out in the open. Although, you wondered why he wanted to talk to you in Aizawa's classroom specifically. Why in the school buildings at all and not the dorms? Why not do it in privacy? These were just more questions for you to ask when the time was right.

The rest of your day went along as normal could be. A nagging thought pressed from the back of your mind that something was amiss. You didn't feel yourself in danger, but there was a lingering sensation trapped in your brain that told you to expect…what? Expect what, exactly? You had no idea. Perhaps your intuition was wrong. Hitoshi wanted to confess his feelings (or whatever he planned to say) at a place most convenient to you. If you finished class, it would be a pain to walk all the way over to the dorms just to talk to him. Even then, it was a minor inconvenience, and meeting in a public space wouldn't be wise. You'd have to wait to figure out what he meant by doing all of this.

When the hour arrived, you noticed something peculiar about Professor Aizawa. Usually, he started packing up his things as your class was the last of the day for him. Instead, he sat at his desk, sifting through his phone.

"Good night, Professor!" You said in passing, biting your lip.

Yes, you still remembered the raunchy dream you had that left your thighs slick. Before you even snuck into Hitoshi's dorm room, you changed pajamas. Aizawa didn't confirm that he heard you or stopped scrolling through his phone to glance at you. He typed away and ignored you. Shrugging your shoulders, you didn't think much of it. You passed his desk, made your way over to the door, and reached out to open it. Before your fingers even grazed the knob, the wood and glass door swung open with a whoosh. Hitoshi stood in the doorway before you.

"You wanted to talk to me?" You lowered your voice. "You know, about last night? Mind if we take this conversation somewhere more private." You gestured to Professor Aizawa, still sitting in his chair. Only this time, he wasn't fiddling with his phone.

"Oh, no. He's good," said Hitoshi. "In fact, I asked him to be here."

"Wait. What?" Your brows furrowed.

Hitoshi closed the door behind and locked it. You were so distracted by Hitoshi's Cheshire grin that you failed to notice the footsteps behind you. Aizawa had moved from his desk and crossed the floor to meet you. His strong hands pulled the shoulder straps of your backpack off of you and gently tossed it underneath an empty desk.

"Hitoshi, what's going on? You're really freaking me out."

An arm like a redwood tree trunk wrapped around your waist. Another hand wandered up to your head and gently brushed your hair to the side. Warm lips caressed your neck. Bristles of hair tickled you and made you squirm. Not that you were really going anywhere. Aizawa caged you with only one arm.

"Pro-Professor?" You were more bewildered than frightened.

Hitoshi leaned against the wall to watch. He had his arms folded across his chest, but his smile was devastating. "Just fulfilling your fantasy, princess. I thought you liked Professor Aizawa?"

"I-I…"

"Cat got your tongue," asked Aizawa.

Teeth nibbled on the junction where your neck met your shoulders. Aizawa's fingers spread out and splayed against your ribs. Your heart thundered in its prison and threatened to escape. Your knees began to buckle, but Aizawa's superior strength kept you from winding up on the floor. It would have been more humiliating to land at Aizawa's feet with Hitoshi watching. Your head was spinning out of control.

"And I know that you like me," said Hitoshi. "Don't blush like that. You can't deny it."

You then noticed how hot your face was. Without even looking in a mirror, you could feel all of your blood gathered in your cheeks. The tops of your ears were red, too, like someone pinched them.

"B-But why…why all this? Why me—" You gasped, then your gasp became a moan.

Professor Aizawa roughly grabbed your breast and played with it over your clothes. His other hand massaged your hip. And his lips? Gods, his lips never left your neck. It was a blessing and a curse. Aizawa licked and suckled wherever he could get his mouth on your flesh. You stared at Hitoshi, who did nothing more than grin like a mad man.

"Do you want to answer her, or should I?" Hitoshi was obviously talking to someone other than you.

Aizawa removed his mouth from you, and you were almost sorry for its loss. His hands, though, remained. Groping and playing with you while he made his answer.

"From day one, I wanted to bend you over my desk and fuck you. I wasn't prepared to see somebody like you, Y/N, to walk into my classroom. Then I find out from my son that he found someone he liked too. To my shock, they were one and the same person. You. Hitoshi took a liking to you and told enough about you to keep me up at night."

"Wait? Son? You mean…" You'd been glancing over your shoulder to get a peek at Aizawa, whose hands never stopped moving before you snapped back to Hitoshi.

"Yeah, that's me," said Hitoshi. He took one dangerous step towards you than another.

"But you two…"

"Adopted." Hitoshi now stood arm's length away from you. "The real question now is: do you want us to stop? Two boyfriends are one thing, but can you handle a father and son duo? All you gotta do is say no right now, and you can walk away."

"What…what happens if I say yes?" You asked.

Heat pooled in your lower belly. Hitoshi's violet eyes pinned you where you stood as if that was all it took. His apparent father, Professor Aizawa, resumed his work on your neck and teasing you with his hands and lips. Hitoshi licked his lips and groped the breast that hadn't been possessed by his dad yet. Your knees wobbled and threatened to give out if not for Professor Aizawa supporting you. Hitoshi reached out, grabbed your jaw, and cupped your chin. You were forced to look him in the eye, which didn't help your situation down below.

"Saying yes means no going back. Once we start, there's no stopping unless you scream bloody murder. If you want to be fucked stupid, now's the time to answer, kitty."

You swallowed hard and nearly choked on the lump that formed in your throat. Aizawa began moaning next to your ear while still massaging your breast. Hitoshi's and Aizawa's hands worked your pleasure to the point you felt yourself dripping beneath your jean pants. Soft sighs escaped you. Your calm, rational brain couldn't come up with an excuse not to say yes. The thrill and fear of being caught sandwiched between two men—one of whom was a teacher no less—and in such a public space sent a shiver down your back. Aizawa's hands felt bigger than Hitoshi's, but his son had softer ones. The dichotomy caused a new wave of sensations to crash into you and pulled you towards unknown depts. What lay at the bottom frightened you, but you also knew that nothing was gained by sitting at home, waiting for Prince Charming.

"Your neck tastes pretty good," said Aizawa, "I wonder what the rest of you feels like." His fingers dug into your hip, and he squeezed your breast a little harder.

Your head rolls back and your eyes closed, lost in the pleasure. You bit your lip to contain the moans and sighs trying to come out of you. You're too scared that someone might hear and find you in a peculiar situation.

"Nobody's gonna hear. We're the last ones to leave, and the janitor saved this room for last. We won't be disturbed," said Hitoshi.

You were curious what he meant by the janitor saving this room for last. Your mind was preoccupied with the steady hand teasing you. Your mind was already made up by that point, you might as well say it aloud. It was just a matter of getting your stubborn tongue to cooperate.

"What's it going to be, Y/N?" It was Professor Aizawa this time with a question, but he growled it in your ear.

Goosebumps rose across your flesh. Hands—you're not sure whose—tore down the zipper of your hoodie to reveal a thin tank top and pull the outer garment away from your shoulders. Two mouths latched onto your newly exposed skin. Your feet were kicked apart. Hitoshi let go of your chin in favor of gliding it down, down, down. You gasped when he cupped the apex of your thighs.

"I can feel you getting wet even through your jeans, Y/N. You want this, don't you?"

Without thinking, you nodded. Their hands, their mouths, their deep voices, you wanted them to use your body until you couldn't tell who was who anymore. Sleeping with your professor and his son at the same time, should have raised alarm bells. It was wrong on many levels, but you couldn't think of a single one of them.

"Use your words, kitty." Said Aizawa.

Aizawa's hand left your hip. He dragged it across your stomach, slid it down the opposite thigh, and grabbed hold of it. Aizawa brought this leg further and higher up to the point of stretching your leg close to the edge of pain. You blushed deeper when you realized that he spread your legs wider for Hitoshi to play with you. Hitoshi rubbed his hand from back to front along the crotch seam of your jeans. Moisture gathered there as if your body was obeying his every command.

"Come on," urged Hitoshi. "You know you want to."

With a few more rubs, you were panting. You weren't sure if you screamed it or moaned, but you said it. You threw your head back, and with a groan, you said, "Yes, please. More."

That's all they needed. Hands and mouths immediately left. You whimpered at their absence, but you weren't going to be sad for long. Your world literally spun as Aizawa grabbed you, pinned you to the chalkboard, and pulled at the button and zipper of your pants. Hitoshi got rid of your socks and shoes and ripped off your hoodie. Fast hands pulled your top off and your bra. It was unfair that they only took off their shirts. You were about to protest this fact when Aizawa got down on his knees in front of you and spread your legs.

"Pay attention, Hitoshi. I'm about to show you exactly how you're supposed to please a woman."

You caught his hair by your fingers, twisting and pulling by the third stroke of Aizawa's tongue. He lapped from one end to your clit and back down. You quivered when he pulled your outer lips apart to reveal the hot button of yours hidden there. Aizawa brought his lips to your clit and sucked. He kept your legs apart by putting his hands on your thighs and pinched whenever they got too close to his head. After sucking your clit, Aizawa went back to licking your slit, which was now dripping to the floor.

"The trick is," he addressed Hitoshi without even wiping his mouth first. "Is to find the pace best for them. No two pussies are the same, and this kitty here is really sensitive. Watch."

Aizawa dove between your legs again and pressed his lips against your cunt. A rumble from his throat sent shockwaves through your body. He positively growling while slurping you up like an ice cream cone. You knocked your head into the chalkboard, which still had his lecture notes scrawled in that familiar handwriting. Your eyes nearly popped out of their sockets when Aizawa penetrated you with his tongue. He lapped at your inner walls and thrust in and out in preparation for the real thing. You had no doubts that one or both of them were going to filling you tonight. Judging by how eagerly Aizawa treated your cunt like an all-you-can-eat-buffet, you were assured of that much.

All the while, you felt more than saw Hitoshi's eyes on you. He watched Aizawa eat you out, then his gaze flickered to your face. Violet eyes fixed on you. Not wanting to disturb his dad hard at work, Hitoshi leaning against the chalkboard next to you. His hand once more grabbed your face and turned it towards him. Hitoshi brought you close to his face and pulled your lips towards his. He kissed you, and it was better than you ever dreamed about. A lot better than what you actually did dream about. His lips felt soft against yours. Soft but demanding. Hitoshi's kiss was so much more than just smooth. You felt his tongue swipe at your bottom lip, begging for entrance. He didn't need an invitation, but it was sweet of him to ask.

You parted your lips. Hitoshi imitated the movements of Aizawa's tongue in your cunt. He moved his tongue in and out of your mouth. The result made you moan and drool. Aizawa parted from you, making you whine.

"Whatever you're doing, keep doing it. She's about to come all over my face," said Aizawa before diving back in with more fervor this time.

The room filled with your sighs and the perverse sounds of Aizawa eating you. Hitoshi's other hand went to your breast. His fingers were more nimble than you thought they were. They performed magic on you. He twisted your nipple until it was rock hard and did the same for the other one. Your chest was heaving for air and in the heated pleasure of the moment. Hitoshi, let you breathe for a few minutes. He grinned down at you as he watched your face contort. You yanked on his father's head as something ripped out of you.

You crashed into your orgasm that you didn't even see coming (pun intended). Between Aizawa's stupendous tongue and Hitoshi's…everything, you wailed like a banshee. Aizawa sucked and sucked until your body could no longer handle the sensations. Aizawa came away with his mouth and chin soaked with your juices while the rest dribbled down your displayed cunt.

"Fuck," Hitoshi sighed, bringing you in for another kiss.

You were inclined to agree with him.

Aizawa rose from his knees. He wiped his mouth, spreading it over his arm. He sat on his desk, watching the two of you make out a little before breaking it off. Aizawa's lips were firmer than Hitoshi's, and he made no pretense of being gentle. You tasted yourself on him and shuddered.

"How do we do this?" Aizawa murmured to no one in particular. He moved a strand of (h/c) hair out of your face and tucked it behind your ear. "I've always wanted you bent over or splayed out on my desk. With Hitoshi here, that complicates things."

"Still could," suggested Hitoshi. "Though, it wouldn't be your desk. Where do you sit, Y/N?"

You answered quickly, and Hitoshi immediately went there. Aizawa held you up as he guided you over to your desk. As if reading his son's mind, Aizawa pressed down on the small of your back until you lay face-first into your desk. Hitoshi stood on the other side, working to undo his pants. He was inches from you, and you could reach him without effort.

Aizawa spread your legs and lifted your hips a little. You clutched your desk for dear life. You heard Aizawa adjusting himself behind you, but Hitoshi was on full display before you. Bristling violet hair made a treasure trail leading to his long cock. He moved his hand up and down its shaft while he refused to leave your eyes again. You watched a bead of pre-cum leak out of the reddened cock head while unaware that Aizawa fished himself out of his trousers. In one go, he was seated firmly in your heat. Your jaws unhinged, allowing Hitoshi to do the same to your throat. Both men groaned as your velvety walls enveloped them.

"Shit, that feels good," moaned Hitoshi.

Aizawa gave you an appreciated slap on your ass. "You're so tight, Y/N. How fucking long have you been holding out on us?"

With Hitoshi's cock inside you, you were only allowed to whimper and moan. Hitoshi bunched your hair at the back of your head in his hand while Aizawa set a bruising hold on your hips. Father and son looked at each other and nodded in agreement to some unspoken thing. Aizawa pulled back only to slam forward again. He moved first, and then Hitoshi shortly followed second. They timed their thrusts perfectly so that when one was buried deep in your body, the other pulled out almost to the tip of his cock. Each cock slid nearly the whole way out before getting shoved into one hole or another. Your arms were useless noodles clinging to your desktop like a life-saving raft. The desk's metal feet scraped the floor while your insides were being delightfully abused.

Tears streamed down your face. You were neither scared nor humiliated. The tears were a mere reaction to the overstimulation you received servicing father and son at the same time. Hitoshi reached to the back of your throat and made you gag. He tried to slow his pace so you wouldn't actually choke on him, but he was young and couldn't help himself. His dad, on the other hand, had more experience. He wasn't nearly as long as Hitoshi, but he made up for it in stoutness and skill gained only through experience. It wasn't just his cock rearranging your guts; his fingers left bruises and the hard grunts he let out when he pounded you. He evidently wasn't much of a talker.

"So good, baby. So good. Keep going. Fuck." Hitoshi loosened his hold on your hair a little bit and stroked your face and throat.

You hallowed out your cheeks. Looking up at Hitoshi, you worked to suck him off. His features screwed up as his eyes turned into a molten mixture. You could tell by instinct that he wanted to be the one fucking your cunt and had settled for your throat. You also felt how bad he wanted to see you swallow his come when it was time.

"Fuck," Hitoshi groaned. Sweat beaded down the side of his face. His hips moved faster, and his hand wandered.

You felt Hitoshi's fingers graze your throat. You shivered as those red-hot fingers held every intent on wrapping around your neck while he fucked your throat. You looked up at him and slowly nodded. Hitoshi gave you a test squeeze on your throat. Nothing to hurt or scare you with, just one squeeze. When you didn't convulse, groan in distress, or shake your head, Hitoshi put his whole hand down and squeezed for longer than a second. He felt his own cock being shoved and pulled from your throat. He pressed just a little tighter. It wasn't enough to restrict your airways, but the edges around your eyes started to blur.

"Such a good mouth. Good little cockslut, aren't you?" Hitoshi licked his hips. "Want me to blow my load? Want my cum down your throat?"

You nodded with enthusiasm. Hitoshi grabbed either side of your head and disregarded Aizawa's pace then drove his cock deep inside your throat. If you weren't choking before, you are now. Hitoshi rammed his hips into your face. His movements bounced the desk harder than before, and it was a good thing there weren't' any classes on the floor beneath this one.

Hitoshi shoved your face against his crotch as his cock swelled inside your mouth. Ropes of cum guzzled down your throat. He quickly pulled out before he was finished serving you his cum directly into your stomach. Cum splattered your face, hair, and, of course, the desk.

Having your throat painted white did something for you. The coil that had been building in your lower belly since the moment Aizawa and Hitoshi stuffed you full of their cocks snapped. Your body unwound itself around Aizawa's cock, still pulsing and moving inside your walls. You screamed this time, and Hitoshi did nothing to muffle the sound. You panted and continued to yell as you felt another coil begin to tighten within you. Aizawa's hips never stopped but only quickened. Watching you lose your mind spurred him on to take you faster, harder, and more thoroughly.

Aizawa pulled you up so that you stepped on the boots he kept on while fucking you. He pressed your back flush against his chest while he continued to fuck your cunt. You were red from head to toe when you felt Hitoshi watch you getting fucked by his father. He watched you bounce on Aizawa's cock like it was the most natural thing to do. With the nonchalance of somebody who didn't just cum down a girl's throat while his dad plowed her from behind, Hitoshi put on his shirt and gathered your things.

"He's right," Aizawa grunted. His pace was impossible to keep up with. Your walls clenched around him as you braced yourself for another one. "You're too good of a cock slut to let go. You're going to be our good girl, won't you?"

"Yes!" You screamed.

"Then take my load like a good little girl. I'm…going to fill that sweet cunt of yours."

Aizawa's hips snapped into a frenzy, beating your insides as if bruises didn't matter. Your inner walls clenched hard. Another wave spiked through you. Impaled on his cock, you let out a deep moan that felt like it came deep inside your soul's core. You shivered around him. Having you wrap so tightly around his cock, Aizawa pulled out to just the tip and shoved himself back in again. When he kissed your cervix, you bellowed as more cum shot into your body. Aizawa's spray lasted longer. There was so goddamn much of it that his cum leaked out of you when he eventually pulled out.

Hitoshi ran to get cleaning supplies and came back with an armload of warm, damp towels. He and Aizawa took their time cleaning you up, wiping away all traces of their cum with no small reluctance. They needed you presentable before you all left the building, but they didn't want their mark erased from your body just yet. While Hitoshi got rid of the evidence, Aizawa helped you into his leather-back chair and back into your clothes. When all was said and done, you were forced to hang onto them. Aizawa and Hitoshi half-carried you to the former's car. You sat in the back with your brows heavily furrowed.

"What's going on? Are we going somewhere?" You asked.

Your heart raced inside your chest; you had a feeling exactly where they were taking you. Your dorm was within walking distance. A car would be silly.

"First, we're going to get dinner," answered Aizawa as he buckled into the driver's seat.

"And then?" You dared to raise the question.

"And then we fuck you properly on a bed," Hitoshi finished.

---080---

1K notes · View notes

moonbaby26 · 3 years

Text

Title: Epiphany

Pairing: Peter Maximoff x Reader

Summary: Continuation from previous chapter. Finally back in the U.S., you and Peter get a mini shopping trip with the others, where you get a special gift for him. Followed by your ride back alone together to his house near D.C. and an abrupt introduction to his family.

Warnings: Mostly just more fluff. Bit of a dysfunctional family implied. Not proofread too well as I didn’t have much free time left and wanted to get this posted.

Chapters: Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Taglist: @drikawinchester , @n0obmaster69 , @alexloveskili , @what-a-silver-lining , @bluesprings18 , @weakmoony-stuff , @slytherinsi-mp , @wintwrsoldiwr , @tommy-braccoli , @amourtentiaa , @cringingmemeries , @bi-panicatthe-disco , @himbos-are-my-lifeblood , @simp4mcuwomen , @ikkleroniekins , @cowboyenorgy , @the-chaotic-cow

Peter Maximoff x Reader Masterlist

—————————

You were groggy, legs stiff as you’d finally made it out of that plane. Honestly, when this was all said and done you’d be happy to not travel again for a very long time.

But the important thing was that you were home. Well, sort of. You were getting a lot closer anyway. McGuire air force base in New Jersey was bustling with activity as you’d all been shuffled around after landing.

Moira had said goodbye, staying here to work some more as it seemed this had become a temporary east coast operations point for more than just the air force. But she’d arranged it so you all could take a van off base together to find the nearest rental car lot.

Which that was when you really started feeling this was your last chance to inwardly practice whatever your speech was going to be to Xavier. You were going to volunteer to drive Peter home, splitting off from the others when they’d no doubt be heading north for New York.

The van hadn’t been the most comfortable thing in the world either as you’d all piled into it with Hank driving. Moira had told the Professor to just leave it after you all got something else rented, and that someone from the base would come and get it later.

Besides a little shared complaining from the group about being continually shoved into one thing after another lately, helicopters, to jets, to aircraft carriers, and now this, there wasn’t really too much said though. That silence likely somewhat due to jet lag as well. But when Xavier had signaled to Hank to stop after seeing a bank you were about to pass, that’s when Peter seemed to perk back up.

And by the time this older van had clunked its way into the parking lot and come to a stop, Peter was on the verge of fully laughing.

“What?” Ororo finally asked, Peter sitting between her and you both here in the back of the van.

“Nothing.” Peter respond just as quickly, though still seeming far too entertained as Raven had helped Xavier out of the van and back into his wheelchair before the two of them had gone inside the bank together.

You and Ororo just exchanged an odd glance, before Jean revealed the answer all too easily. “Peter thinks we’d make a terrible cast for a heist movie. He’s thinking about robbing the bank and imagining a poorly executed role for all of us.”

“Hey!” Peter complained. “You really don’t play fair. I think about a lot of things without actually do-”

“Seriously?” Scott asked, looking back at you all.

“Oh, come on. One eye beam and the vault would crack like an egg.” Peter retorted, “Do you guys not ever daydream?”

“About crime?” You questioned.

“I did give the kid his markers back didn’t I?” Peter asked.

“What kid?” Hank looked back as well.

“Oh, except this one.” Peter pulled out the dark blue marker that’d still been stashed in his pocket. “The kid still had a light blue one anyway. He’ll live. You guys need to sign my cast!”

—————————

The Professor had apparently recognized that bank as one he had some accounts with, and you’d assumed he had gone in to withdraw some spending money for the remainder of the trip.

But when Hank drove you all to a nearby department store next instead of continuing on straight to the rental car lot that had been the supposed goal the entire time, you were surprised. Even more so when the Professor had called for you, Jean, Kurt, and Ororo specifically.

“I know this isn’t much,” Charles explained, before passing each of the four of you a small amount of cash. “But the staff staying with the displaced students at the motel did already take them shopping for at least some bare necessities. You deserve the same until we can provide better.”

It was still entirely generous and unexpected though as you’d all exited the van, then fully understanding the point of this additional pit stop. With the destruction of the mansion, and with Ororo not even being from here, the four of you now had not a single possession to your names except the Air Force issued clothing you’d left the aircraft carrier with.

Scott and Peter were a little bit different story, Scott was expected to go back home with his parents for a while and no doubt everything he still had there, and Peter having lost nothing really except the one outfit that had burnt up in the jet’s crash in Egypt.

But you knew a little better of how he felt about that, not missing the way Peter was already eyeing things as the two of you had split off from the rest of the group once entering the department store.

Your only real goal was at least getting a comfortable pair of tennis shoes to replace the awful boots they’d given you and a couple pairs of jeans, some t-shirts, socks, and underwear. Just the very minimum, that was fine for you.

You tried to be quick, knowing it was still a little unfair to make Peter just watch you shop when he could take nothing for himself. Albeit, you doubted much here was really his style anyway.

You did half expect him to give you a harder time as well on your own choices, but found him quite distracted as you’d walked back and forth looking at one rack then another of clothes.

Finally you realized why, catching him still lingering at a glass display case you’d already passed more than once as you then circled back to him with a bit of clothing in your arms.

As you came up to stand beside him, you looked down to see the multiple men’s watches all glinting up in the light from beneath the glass.

You smiled, putting two and two together easily enough as you glanced back to him and that clearly longing expression on his face. “Which one do you like?”

He blinked, just seeming to realize your attention was back on him then as he tried to look nonchalant. “Nah, it’s okay. I’m not going to steal it if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“That wasn’t what I was thinking.”

“It’s what Mr. Smiley over there, the store detective was thinking.” Peter commented a little more quietly, just motioning his eyes to a man standing off to the side.

The man didn’t look “smiley” at all of course, appearing to consider the same display of pants over and over as he’d pick one size up and then put it back down as if he wasn’t watching you both.

You chose to ignore the stranger, just reiterating back to Peter instead. “Come on, which one do you want?”

You could see by the tags that they weren’t exactly cheap, but certainly weren’t Rolex’s either. This was doable.

But Peter only met eyes with you again. “Seriously, I can get one later. I’ll live.”

His old watch had been destroyed. And you hadn’t forgotten what importance it had to him. “That wasn’t the point.” Already deciding you were sure about this, you dug back into your pocket, pulling out money and putting it on the glass in front him.

“I’m going to go put some of these clothes back, get somebody’s attention to come open the case for you.”

He stared, trying to turn around to stop you, but you were already out of his reach as you smiled, just disappearing back behind some nearby clothing racks.

You intentionally took longer than necessary as well as you did put back enough of the clothes to make up for the money you’d given him. You wanted to make sure he really did follow through with having them get one of the watches out before you’d come anywhere near again.

It took a while, but he must have finally relented, unable to resist the temptation, and reinforcing your thought that he really had seen one he especially wanted as you’d finally wandered over once more just as the saleswoman had been handing it over to him.

She rang it up then and there at the counter as he’d immediately put it on that empty spot on his left wrist.

Curious, you’d tried to get a better look at which one he’d picked, moving closer before he suddenly swung his right arm out, catching you around the shoulders and pulling you even closer even with the awkwardness of his crutch still under that arm.

You felt a warm kiss planted just as fast on your cheek before you could respond. The saleswoman giving you both an odd look as Peter only grinned to you. “Thanks, babe. I’ll make it up to you at some point. Promise.”

You moved slightly, not really caring about the money or the stares of any of the store staff as you still tried to get a look at the watch, grabbing his hand. “Well which one did you get?”

He let you take his hand easily, grasping his fingers around your own in return as he tilted his wrist to let you get a good view. “Check it out, digital face, but it counts seconds and hundredths of a second. And you can change it to stopwatch mode too. Also water resistant to 100 meters...though not quite sure when I’d need that.”

“Jean said the motel the others were staying at has a pool,” You commented lightly, though still looking at the bright, silver colored metal watch band and face. “Quicksilver.” You added absently, reading the model name also etched there.

He paused, “What did you say?”

“Oh, the pool? Jean said the Professor mentioned that, though he still is looking for some place less rundown-”

“No, what you said after.”

“Huh?” You glanced back up.

“Quick what?”

“Oh.” You realized, turning your hand which was still holding his so the etching would better face him as well. “That must be the model.”

He must have not even noticed until that point, also reading it then. But he pulled you in even a little closer then as he leaned his head against yours, seeming to contemplate something.

“What?” You asked.

“I think I just had a...hell, what do you call them? Epitaph?”

Your eyebrows raised, looking at him in real confusion then. “Um...like on a gravestone?”

“No, no.” He was still trying to find the word. “Dammit, when the light bulb goes off you know...like something hits you and it’s awesome!”

“Epiphany?” You questioned after another moment, though still highly unsure of where this was going.

“Yes! Totally!” He let go of your hand then, before giving an awkward high five as you hadn’t been expecting it.

But you were still thoroughly confused, even as the saleswoman had now excused herself, gladly wandering off to assist other customers. And even the store detective just coughed somewhere in the distance, finding you both no longer a theft threat as much as just just two more weird young people he was not going to ever understand.

——————————

If anyone noticed that the amount of things you rang up were visibly less than what Jean, Ororo, and Kurt had gotten, no one said anything.

Soon enough you were all back in the van again, but Peter kept admiring the watch still. The odd beep and chime going off on it every now and then as he played with its functions.

It was evident enough, that even the Professor finally looked back at him. Which Peter noticed as well just grinning. “I didn’t steal it.” He proclaimed proudly.

“I know you didn’t,” Xavier answered, but then giving you an odd look next.

You tried to smile back, but weren’t sure if this might now be the time to bring up your plan or not with the Professor’s attention on you. Yet before you could think to say anything more, Peter just added happily. “Oh, and Prof., if you do reboot the X-Men, I’m Quicksilver. So I call dibs on that, the rest of you will have to think of your own stuff. Though I’m pretty creative, I can help for maybe a small fee if you need inspiration.”

“Seriously?” You answered, just turning your head to look at Peter then.

But you were even more surprised when Xavier actually looked impressed for a moment. “Quicksilver? Hmm. An old nickname for liquid mercury. Which of course in the Roman pantheon, Mercury was also the god of trickery, thieves, and often depicted with wings on his feet as the fastest of the gods. He-”

“Uh.” Peter interrupted. “I was more thinking that my hair is silver and I’m quick. Also this badass watch (Y/N) bought me says that on it. But that god stuff is cool too I guess.”

You heard Raven about snort laughing as the Professor’s thoughtful expression quickly faded. “Fair enough.”

—————————

By the time you did reach the rental car lot, you tried to get Xavier’s attention before he could go inside the rental office with Raven. You almost jogged up to him actually, that worried about missing your chance.

Yet as you reached him, you saw him wave Raven off, telling her he would be just a moment. She only shrugged, walking ahead inside.

Before you could even open your mouth though, he just gave you another curious look. “You know, for all your worrying about this, it’s the ride home that I’m more concerned about. You realize from Washington D.C. back to New York, that’s going to be about a five hour drive all on your own.”

You don’t know why you felt any surprise. Honestly it was more of a relief though that you didn’t have to explain everything from scratch. Having a psychic as a father figure had its benefits at times, if otherwise you felt you would have difficulty communicating something.

“I promise I’ll call as soon as I get to Peter’s and again when I leave?” You offered with hope.

“I’d really feel better if you had one of the others to ride back with...” He countered, but giving a sympathetic look. “You know, of all my students, I just...you really are one of the last I’d expect to befriend him this way. And I say that with me actually being quite fond of him. Though admittedly I did think him just a pain in the arse when I first met him. I didn’t have my powers then though to see any deeper. So it wasn’t the best first impression to be honest.”

You both glanced over at Peter who now seemed preoccupied with playing with those stolen sunglasses as he just chatted with the others. He’d agreed to let you plea the case to Xavier on your own, thinking you could probably be the more sincere and convincing of the two of you.

“I think he’d really like to come to the school once everything’s rebuilt,” You added, looking back to the Professor.

“Yes, I know.” Xavier agreed. “He’s really hit it off with you all. He’s enjoyed this despite everything else. It’s nice to see, really. Though...I do still worry about the inevitably of his father returning. There will still be a lot to unpack there. And Erik may not want him at the school as much as Erik’s always disagreed with some of my worldviews.”

You frowned a little, having not thought about Magneto in quite a while now. “If he cares about Peter at all though, you’d think he’d realize it’d be better for him to be somewhere he had friends. Where he’s happy...”

“One would hope.” Xavier answered, but then looking to you once more. “You’re sure about this aren’t you? Determined to make the drive back alone?”

“I mean, if anyone tried to give me trouble, I could always use my powers.” Yet you still smirked, parroting his teaching you’d heard for years. “But still as discreetly as possible of course.”

He took a breath, that concern still not leaving his expression even as he relented. “You have come a long way since that little child I met all those years ago.”

“I wasn’t that little.” You smiled, knowing full well which day he was remembering. When you’d been sitting, feeling abandoned in that airport as your real father had been explaining again this place you were being sent to in New York. Saying he’d call you all the time once you got there, all the while you knew he never would.

That’d been the first day you’d ever met Charles. When your own family was too afraid of you, when they were far happier to have you move across the country. But Xavier had flown all the way there just to share the plane ride back to New York, with your stubborn, silent self.

Abruptly you leaned down, putting your arms around the Professor’s shoulders as you hugged him. “I’m really glad you’re okay,” You said, knowing full well how close you all had come to losing him only a few days ago.

He laughed lightly, but returned the gesture even though he was a little surprised. “Or you’re just happy to get your way. Do be careful alright? Both of you.”

“I promise. Thank you.” You smiled, really meaning it before you let go of him to stand back up.

As you did so, you could see Peter looking your way. He gave a questioning expression, then turning his thumb down then up as if to ask the results.

You smirked, nodding as him thumb went up to confirm the Professor had agreed with your plan.

“Sweet!” You heard Peter exclaim from all the way over there.

————————

Xavier had given you the phone number to the motel in New York that the others were driving to. They’d gotten another van, though thankfully a little newer than the beaten up government one they were now leaving behind.

A car had been rented for you and Peter. A blazing red thing you now leaned against as you waited for him. You’d already said your goodbyes, which were pretty brief as you expected to see the others again soon.

You were still close enough to overhear as Peter got to Scott however. It caught your attention as you’d heard Peter’s tone change.

“Hey, man...I wanted to say I’m sorry. I’m sorry I couldn’t get your brother out.”

It was the first time you’d heard Peter talk about that specifically with Scott. But when would have been the right time?

Yet Peter kept on pretty quickly, the awkwardness obviously still there even with that hint of guilt. “If um, if I lived closer you know, or I wasn’t in this damn thing-” He’d motioned to his cast. “I’d run up there and go to the service too. I mean, I know how important siblings are...”

Scott seemed a little taken aback himself, but shook his head. “Don’t be sorry. None of it would have happened if it wasn’t for that psycho god, whatever we want to call him. And he got his. It’s all we can do.”

You could hear the little bit of waver in Scott’s voice though, and you knew the sad reality would likely be that it still wouldn’t fully hit him that Alex was truly gone until Scott was back home with his parents, and his brother was glaringly absent.

But Peter just patted him on the shoulder before walking back to you on his crutches.

His eyes were still a bit sad, but he smiled at you as he neared you. “Well, ready for a roadtrip, babe?”

“They gave us a road atlas, so I think so.” You answered, already walking to open the passenger door for him.

“Ah, maps are for suckers.” He answered, handing you his crutches so he could sit down in the seat. “Sure, it’ll look way different going so slow, but I have an excellent sense of direction.”

“Uh huh,” You responded with a healthy bit of skepticism. “We’ll see.”

—————————

“So...we’re finally alone.” Peter said, still snacking on whatever brightly colored candy that actually was that you’d grabbed from the gas station for him.

“Sure, and going seventy miles an hour on the interstate, while I need to keep my hands on the wheel and eyes on the road to not kill us, yes.” You answered.

“It’s practically a straight line, it about drives itself.” He responded, but while just fiddling with the radio for the umpteenth time.

Every time a station went to commercial, it was clear he couldn’t handle the wait for the music to come back, only trying to find something else to listen to right away.

You finally laughed a little as he’d accidentally found some other talk show yet again.

“What?”

“I’m waiting for that dial to fall off in your hand.”

“Man, you think one of these gas stations has some cassettes or something?”

“I have no idea.”

“Hey, are you hungry yet?”

You shrugged. “I could probably eat.” The bit of food on the plane had been pretty awful. You hadn’t even finished it.

“I need to pee anyway.”

“Again?” You glanced at him. “That’s gotta be the Mountain Dew.”

“Oh yeah, that’s all gone.” He shook his empty cup, just the sound of ice jostling around in it. “I’m thinking Dr. Pepper now...and a cheeseburger. Maybe McDonalds?”

“Sure.” It really didn’t matter to you. All those fast food places were all about the same. “Golden Arches it is then...let me know if you see an exit with one and I’ll-”

“There was one.” He pointed as it went right by.

“Um...one with a little more notice please.”

“Got it. I’m on watch, captain.” He gave a little mocking salute, before pulling his sunglasses back down as if that would somehow help his focus as he stared out to all the upcoming exit signs ahead.

——————————

He was adamant about going inside to eat instead of just going through the drive thru once you did find the next McDonalds. You wondered if he was trying to stretch out your time together a little more.

Which you would have no complaints if so, now laughing as you sat at a table inside. You’d seen the odd looks an older couple had given you as they’d come in, and Peter was fairly certain it was due to his silver hair.

“I mean I could always try a mohawk, full on punk if they think this is too weird,” He commented, pulling some of the silver bangs back in front his face as he chewed on some fries. “I still think Ororo’s is badass, but I don’t know if I have the right head shape for it. What do you think?”

“What head shape is a person supposed to have?” You asked, seriously not knowing, but still smiling.

“Of course even the best hair gel doesn’t hold up too well when I run. It probably wouldn’t stay up long.”

“Uh huh.”

“Hey, are you even listening to me or just admiring the view?” He grinned in what you were sure was supposed to be his attempt at a dashing look, albeit with a little bit of ketchup still at the corner of his mouth.

“Can’t I do both?” You answered wryly, just taking another sip of your drink.

“You gonna stay for a little bit after we get to my house?” He asked abruptly then.

“Well I wasn’t planning on just throwing you in the yard and driving away. But it is a decent drive back to New York.”

“You could spend the night.”

You quieted, that warmth rising back in your chest. But you didn’t think he meant it that way. You chose to believe that anyway.

“Well it’s not like we haven’t slept together before.” He continued.

“Slept in the same bed.” You quickly corrected. “In the same bed. With clothes on.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Semantics. And it was nice, right?”

“It was.” You admitted. But that didn’t mean the chance was going to come again anytime soon. “And semantics? Really? After trying to remember the difference between epitaph and epiphany?”

“Hey! I shine every now and then. It’s not always a swing and a miss.” He gave a pretend pouting look. “Fancy private schooler picking on a poor high school dropout, come on.”

“Well, it’s not like I’ll have much reason to study anytime soon.” You admitted. “This was a really dramatic way to get out of my organic chemistry final.”

And he really did look pleased at that. “So you’ll have plenty of time to hang out with the bad influence that is Pietro once I get this cast off. You said that place had a pool right? Sounds like a party.”

—————————

Traffic hadn’t been too terrible the rest of the way. And you’d only gotten turned around a couple times, despite his self proclaimed excellent sense of direction.

Even though you knew it’d been hours, it didn’t feel that way at all. You both mostly just talking about whatever, or even when it was quiet, just listening to the music he chose.

It wasn’t all even rock music to your surprise. He seemed to like just about everything. But when you recognized a song as a favorite of your own, you did notice how his excitement grew a little. You wondered how often if at all he’d really gotten to share that love of music with anyone else.

By the time you’d gotten off the interstate again and the roads started to get smaller and smaller, you knew you must be getting close even before you started to see houses here and there.

“Hey, woah up for a second,” He said raising his hand abruptly.

You did so, but only gently pulling to a stop on the side of the street to not block any other traffic as you looked over at him.

Not that there were any other cars. You thought maybe you saw someone walking their dogs in the distance.

But he didn’t say anything for a moment, just taking his sunglasses off again as he turned his head to meet your gaze.

“What?” You asked as another song started on the radio. It was slow, but you thought you’d heard it somewhere before.

“It’s just around the corner.” He looked almost sad for a moment though, before suddenly smiling again. “My house I mean. You’re going to come inside, right?”

“Well...yeah, as long as that’s okay with your Mom anyway.” But even as you answered, a new bit of nervousness found you. What if she blamed you when she saw he’d been hurt though? Would she think you or your friends were dangerous? You’d never thought of that until this moment actually.

You blinked when you felt his hand touch your face, drawn back out of your thoughts as that song continued on in the background.

“Can I kiss you?” He asked then.

But you just tilted your head slightly in question. It’s not like he’d ever truly asked before. Though you could never really tease someone for wanting continued permission.

And was he nervous too? Knowing he was about to be home again and that this would be over, at least for the time being?

You unbuckled your seatbelt easily enough, leaning across the center console as he did the same.

The kiss was soft though as you closed your eyes. His hand moved gently behind your neck as he held you in close. It felt just as good as the times before.

But you knew there wasn’t much more either of you could do now. You both had to go home.

He was the one that finally pulled back, just looking at you contentedly for a moment before he shifted fully back into his seat.

“You know, my Mom’s going to think I’m full of shit if I say I made any friends...and more than a friend too.”

“You can call me whatever you want, whatever you’re comfortable with,” you said honestly. It’d just be easier, because you didn’t know what was right or wrong either.

Whatever happened, you were just grateful for what you’d already had. How could you not be?

—————————

The black mailbox with Maximoff lettered on the side came up soon enough as you pulled carefully into the driveway, before throwing the transmission into park and killing the ignition.

It was a neat little house, with hedges on the side of the property line and some white patio furniture you could just see up a small incline with decorative stones leading up to it.

The house was also directly across from a public green space with jogging or walking paths weaving between several trees it looked like. Which was a little amusing as you wondered if Peter ever used them.

After you’d gotten out, you rounded around the back of the car, pulling Peter’s crutches from the backseat. He’d already opened the passenger door and stood up as well, before you realized the front door of the house was also opening.

“Peter!” You heard a woman call, and you looked up to see a little bit older woman with dark blond hair now rushing down the steps.

Her arms flung around him as soon as she got close enough, holding him like that for only a moment before she pulled back away. “They wouldn’t tell me anything! Those assholes in the suits, whoever they were! They wouldn’t even tell me where you were-” She looked down, “God, your leg, are you hurt anywhere else?” But then just as quickly her eyes were on his face again, critically, “He did it, didn’t he? I told you! I told you he would hurt you and you don’t listen, this whole time I haven’t slept, do you know that!?”

“Mom!” Peter finally exclaimed, trying to get a word in, as he grabbed her shoulders. “They were CIA, I just told them to tell you I was okay. It hasn’t exactly been a breeze getting back home, this was the best I could do. And it wasn’t Dad, he didn’t-”

“Like hell! Did you see San Francisco? Did you see New York City!? Buildings ripped apart, Peter! Who else could do that!? It’s all the news can talk about, he-”

“It wasn’t just him! Would you just listen for-”

“You could have been killed!” She yelled, her voice almost echoing now off the side of the house as you just stood there still holding his crutches.

You felt entirely invisible to be honest as the two of them just continued, only focused on one another in their arguing.

It was so loud actually that you didn’t even hear someone else then walking up behind you from the park across the street. You didn’t know they were there at all before their voice was almost right beside you.

“Who are you?”

You startled at the question, turning your head to see a young woman now standing there. Her eyes were dark and guarded, the very first thing you noticed honestly as you reflexively took a step back closer to the car.

“Wanda! You’re here!” You heard Peter’s voice rise again though. “A little help here please!”

But Peter’s mother only kept on. “You leave your sister out of this! She’s not the one that ran off after a sociopath and disappeared for days!”

“He’s our father!” He yelled back.

Yet the girl with the long auburn hair kept her attention on you for another moment. “Well whoever you are, you’re probably going to regret coming here.”

You could only remain silent though after that as she just walked on to her mother and brother.

She hugged Peter abruptly, working her way between the two even in their fighting. “I knew you were alright. I could still feel you, even though Mom didn’t believe me. But that doesn’t mean you aren’t an idiot.”

Peter seemed to calm some at Wanda’s touch though, just responding. “You have no idea. I punched a god in the face. It’s a long story.”

——————————

(Continued in next chapter here.)

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