#one day I’ll draw something serious I promise

[penguin-scribbles]

one day I’ll use my art abilities for something besides memes

[ponderingmoonlight]

Reader falling obsessively in love with kny men after getting poisoned

Pairings: Rengoku x fem!reader; Sanemi x fem!reader; Giyu x fem!reader; bonus Genya x fem!reader

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: There's no smut going on but it's definitely a close call lol, I just thought this concept is funny so the fics itself and the whole scenarios aren't 100% serious it's getting absolutely heated in every single one though hehe, Not proofread bc I literally finished this last minute before my flight lol, I'm currently in Greece when this gets published so surprise ya girl with your support until she's back 🤍

Rengoku Kyojuro

“And you’re sure this is safe?”, you question while looking up at Shinobu with frightful eyes.

It should be fine. After all, Shinobu is the one who invented a medicine that is supposed to finally force your headache away. She’s a professional, so well-educated that even Kagaya-sama’s very own children get treated by her.

Even though she didn’t have the chance to test this medicine, you should be fine.

Right?

“As you know, I’ll never promise something I can’t keep, (y/n). But you’re here with me and if something goes wrong, I will find a way”, she tries to reassure you, only to spike your panic up even higher.

“Listen Shinobu, maybe I’ll try something e-“

Before you’re able to finish your sentence and stop her, you feel a needle poking through your arm oh so gently.

For a moment, you simply sit there and blink in confusion. Huh, not as bad as you thought. It really seems like your headache slowly but surely starts fainting away while the medicine burns every so slightly through your veins.

Not bad at all.

Until your heartbeat picks up so suddenly that your eyes dart wide open. Like in trance, you yank out of the chair you were sitting in, orbs darting around without a real aim while frantically searching for something.

Or rather someone.

What a quiet and peaceful day it is to roam around the beautiful butterfly estate. Rengoku actually didn’t even plan to come here. After all, he isn’t injured nor does he need something from Shinobu-san. To be honest, he’s only here because of you.

You told him yesterday that you’ll see Shinobu today in order to test medicine that is supposed to end your ongoing headaches. You were a little frightened when you thought about getting an injection, so it was never a question for Rengoku to be there for you. Hopefully, he made it on time.

“Kyojuro.”

He furrows his eyebrows and turns towards that unusual seductive voice.

When your eyes meet his, he forgets how to breathe. There you stand, your kimono opened just enough for him to catch a glimpse of your chest like never before. But what simply sweeps him off his feet are your eyes. As gorgeous and captivating as ever, but this time igniting an so unknown spark, inviting him to a silent dance.

“(y/n), are you feeling alright?”

Your hips swing from side to side as you draw closer to him and place your hand straight over his beating heart.

“I’m feeling better than ever before, Kyojuro.”

Kyojuro can’t help but blush deeply, eyes widening in surprise. A nervous smile plays on his lips while he stammers slightly, unable to hide his flustered state. Is this really you, the secret love of his life, discovering his body with your bare hands? The second your flat palms start wandering over his back, his hands start to fidget. Out of instinct, he avoids eye contact, his very own hands now keeping you in place.

“W-What’s going on. (y/n)?”, he stammers like he never did before.

“Take me, Kyojuro.”

His eyes grow even wider, usual confidence momentarily faltering like a house of cards.

“I-I…um, what?”

With a force he didn’t even know you have, you shove him against a nearby tree, your knee gliding between his legs.

“I want you since the first time I saw you. I won’t wait for another opportunity when you’re right here.”

“(y/n)…D-did you already meet Shinobu-san?”

Are you sick or injured? A quick scan of your body reveals nothing that could indicate a serious wound. No, to be precise, you reveal nothing but your soft curves, your gorgeous frame he has never seen like this before. With your kimono slightly opened and the cleavage that peaks at him oh so invitingly…He never felt your hands pressed against his chest like that before, never got a taste of how well you fit inside of his arms.

No. He shakes his head ever so slightly, forces his own mind back to reality. This isn’t the (y/n) he knows. You’d never sneak up on him like this, even if the words you just spoke are true.

Oh, please let them be true.

“All I care about is you”, you purr, face now only inches away from his.

If his back wasn’t pressed against a tree already, Kyojuro would lose his balance for sure. He was always captivated by that gorgeous colour your eyes have, never able to look away. But now, with that dark gleam inside of them, your hands wrapped around his neck. A little innocent kiss, a dream that comes true right here and now-

“(y/n), come back right now!”, a voice cries behind him so suddenly that he jumps up inside the cage of your comforting arms.

“We are here, Shinobu-san!”, he replies automatically.

Only to regret his words instantly. Just one second more and his lips would have touched yours, only a few moments more in your embrace before it all ends again. It takes him all his strength to let go of you when Shinobu arrives with an injection ready in her hand.

“I’m beyond sorry, Rengoku-san! (y/n)’s strange behaviour is all my fault. But don’t worry, I’ll bring her back in just a moment.”

Faster than he’s even able to comprehend the insect pillar’s words, she sticks a needle into your arm and releases the injection.

You blink a few times, head spinning uncontrollably as you stumble backwards. Where are you? What happened? Your head pounds so roughly against your skull that you feel like puking any given minute.

“How are you feeling, (y/n)?”, Shinobu’s comforting voice rings in your ears.

Slowly but surely, your foggy vision starts to get clear again.

“Since when are you so tall, Shinobu?”, you mumble absently.

“It’s me, (y/n). Kyojuro.”

Oh.

“Kyojuro!”, you mumble in utter surprise.

“But…what are you doing here?”

“Let’s not talk about it. I-I…I need to go now”, the flame hashira announces before turning on his heels and walking away.

You stare at his back in nothing but confusion. What is wrong with him? Is he not feeling well, maybe?

“Is it just me or does Kyojuro walk very strange today?”, you question, earning endless giggles from Shinobu next to you.

“He does indeed.”

Sanemi Shinazugawa

“Watch out idiot, you’re gonna get hit!”, the white-haired man barks harshly at you before dashing towards again.

It happened faster than you were ready to react. A little troll through the woods at night, a deep conversation with the wind hashira. And just a few seconds later, an upper-ranked demon appeared out of nowhere.

“Don’t let it hit you, (y/n)!”

“I’m not stupid, dumbass!”, you bite back while dodging another hit with a tendril.

What a strange-looking demon that woman is. With countless pink tendrils that act as her hair and her long tongue, she really looks different from every demon you’ve seen before.

“Still fighting for your love, you fool?”, she jeers at Sanemi before trying to hit him once again.

"I will show you what love really is! It's a consuming fire that burns away your sense of self, leaving you hollow and desperate. It's an obsession that blinds you to reality, making every thought, every breath, every heartbeat revolve around the one person who becomes your entire world. In this love, you lose your freedom, your identity, and your sanity, as you sacrifice everything to feed the insatiable hunger that never goes away-“

“Can you just stop talking shit, ugly bitch? I just wanna go home”, Sanemi interrupts her dryly

You chuckle to yourself. As if a demon would know anything about love. Their only purpose on this earth is to kill innocent humans for the fun of it.

“What the hell do you know about love, huh? All you do is destroying it”, you blurt out.

Just a moment of sloppiness, a second of turning your back to the tendrils that surround you like a prison. The second you feel it, it’s already too late.

“(y/n)!”, Sanemi cries out, feet rapidly carrying him to your side in order to slice through that fucking piece of tendril that pierced itself through your leg.

He wraps his arms around you tightly, saves you from clashing onto the ground. But the second you open your eyes again, they don’t look like they did before. No, you look obsessed.

“Hey, look at me (y/n). Come back to me”, he insists, a slight tone of panic now taking over his usual so harsh voice.

What if that bitch poisoned you? Shinobu is miles away, there’s no way in hell he’d make it on time. And even now, tendrils continue to circle both of you, waiting for an opportunity to hurt him as well.

“Just see what love does to you! You’ll have to kill her!”

“What the fuck are you talking about”, he hisses under his breath.

“(y/n)?”

“Sanemi.”

Your voice sounds dark, unpromising, coated in something he’s never heard before.

“Hey, are ya alright?”

You’re moving too fast for him to react. In the split of a second, you sit on top of him, your hands holding his in place while your lips start tracing up and down his neck.

For a moment, Sanemi forgets how to exist.

You’re sitting on top of him.

With your lips pressed against his neck.

Almost instantly, blood shoots up his face and straight into his private parts, eyes widen in…horror?

No, not because of you, not because he doesn’t enjoy to finally feel you this close. But this isn’t you. This is the poison of that fucking demon.

Just before he gets hit as well, he slices through another tendril that was ready to attack both of you.

“You can’t save her and yourself!”, the demon shouts at him in sheer amusement.

“Your love will get you killed!”

“(y/n).”

His voice is as tender as never before, hands now grabbing your arms oh so gently.

“You need to come back to me, okay? This isn’t you, this isn’t…how you feel for me.”

He hates the way his heart starts aching as soon as those words leave his mouth. There’s no way in hell someone like you would ever fall for someone like him if it wasn’t for that demon. Not when you’re so gorgeous, so breathtakingly beautiful, so smart-

“But I love you, Sanemi! And I need you!”, you cry out, lips now only inches away from meeting yours.

“You don’t love me, (y/n). How could you ever love me?”

“Let me show you.”

Just before your hand gets the chance to grab his pants, he swings you around in order to lay on top of you – completely out of breath and flustered like never before.

“You need to focus. We need to kill that bitch”, he tries to remind you while dodging another wave of attacks with his free hand.

“You’ll need to kill her!”

“Shut up!”, he barks at the demon behind him.

But that thing’s right. With you writhing like a snake underneath him and those countless merciless attacks, he can concentrate on neither.

“I’m the only one who’s able to save her-“

“I said shut up!”

“(y/n), please get yourself together”, he breathes out.

God, why do you have to look so damn tempting with your legs wrapped around his waist and eyes as flustered as he’s never seen before? Countless lonely nights, he imagined what you might look like, feel like, sound like.

But this isn’t real. That sudden outburst of love isn’t real.

“Looks like you’re busy, Shinazugawa. Maybe you should do things like that somewhere other than on the battlefield”, a painfully known voice comments behind him dryly.

“Shut up at take care of that bitch. I need to look after (y/n)”, he instructs the serpent hashira sharply before picking you up and sprinting into the woods.

“I need you. Please”, you beg between his arms, the way your hands roam around his chest simply driving him insane.

“You can’t help her!”, a faint female voice cries behind both of you.

Screw that fucking demon. He needs to get the real you back, needs to finally confess his damned feelings. Even if all of this is nothing but poison, he simply can’t live like this anymore. Not when you’re so close to him every day, not when he secretly can’t get enough of that sight in front of him right now.

“Come back to me, (y/n)”, he almost begs while letting you down.

Fuck, what is he supposed to do? What if he’s not able to help you? Even if he sends after Shinobu, you might go insane until she arrives. And what if you do something stupid, what if he isn’t able to protect you? And what if this isn’t the only thing that cursed poison does?

“Don’t you love me? I thought you like me back, I thought we have a future together, I…I can’t do this without you!”, you suddenly scream on top of your lungs while bursting out in tears.

“What? I never said that-“

“I don’t wanna live without you. I…I’ll end this!”

It happens almost too fast for him to react. In the matter of milliseconds, you grab your sword and direct it towards your throat, ready to slice it open with full-force.

“You little idiot”, he hisses through gritted teeth while forcing your blade away.

“I love you so fucking much that it hurts, you’re the only thing I’m thinking about constantly! Can’t you see that you’re driving me crazy since joining the corps!? I love you, (y/n)! I always did and I definitely always will! You’ve got me trapped, goddamn!”

And then he presses his lips against yours. Longingly, passionately, as if you’re air and he cannot breathe. Never in his life, Sanemi longed for something so small yet so big. Each and every night, his mind wandered to your lips, your laugh, just you and your fucking perfect self. He can’t stand the thought of you talking about yourself so badly. Him not loving you? Are you fucking insane?

“Sanemi.”

You breathe his name against his lips oh so sweetly.

Sweetly, with that cheeky undertone he knows so well.

“Is that you, (y/n)?”

When he opens his eyes again, he gets greeted by the gleaming kindness that radiates from your orbs just inches away from his.

“I’m sorry for…throwing myself at you like that…”, you mutter with reddened cheeks.

How embarrassing. You can’t believe you were about to touch his groin without permission. Even if you were poisoned, what the hell has gotten into you? And why do you have to remember all the things you’ve said and done? That would have been the least that cursed poison could have done…

“Don’t be, it’s fine”, Sanemi replies equally awkward.

“But…are you actually into me?”, you mumble followed by a swift gaze.

“I…I mean…-“

“He totally is”, Obanai barges into the conversation from behind.

Giyu Tomioka

“Didn’t you say that-ah! This was supposed to be easy?”, you press out while fighting a bunch of demons.

You really have no idea how you ended up here. Just a few seconds ago, you were having the best sleep of the week when your crow interrupted your slumber as rude as ever and literally dragged you onto the battlefield straight on his side.

His side. Giyu Tomioka, to be exact. The mysterious yet captivating water hashira you are eyeing since the first day of joining the chosen circle of pillars. What is it that ties you onto him like a chain, that forces your mind to wander towards him each and every day without any break?

“I will take care of the right side. Stay focused”, he instructs you as absent as ever, not even sending you a single look while your heart is all over the place.

It’s ridiculous and you know it all too well. A man like Giyu would never fall for someone as clumsy and unsettled at you. He will never look at you the way you look at him, not even daring to send you a single smile. Because you’re nothing but comrades, distant known. If it wasn’t for your responsibilities as pillar, he would have never even talked to you.

And you absolutely hate the way this stinging fact bugs you every single day of your life.

“You’re not focused enough, stupid girl”, a voice way too close suddenly purrs inside your ear.

There’s no time left to react. Not even Giyu Tomioka is able to reach you in time when the demon scratches your neck oh so slightly.

Only enough to spill your blood.

Only enough to make you go absolutely insane.

Your mind gets flooded by a wave of emotions, memories, thoughts. All at once. So rapidly that you feel like fainting any given minute.

“What did you do to her?”

“Nothing hurts more but the truth. Did you ever wonder about what she might feel for you, even love, maybe? I will reveal her darkest secrets, her thoughts that were never said out loud. And when she finally loses her mind completely, I will force her to kill you and afterwards herself!”

Giyu’s eyes widen at those words. You, loving him? He never even dared to think about something like this, not when you are admired by everyone around you. Why would you fall for someone as quiet and boring as him?

He swallows hard. But knowing that deep inside him is definitely different from hearing those words coming out of your mouth.

“Giyu.”

Your voice sounds cold and distant, eyes completely blank.

“(y/n), I will get you out of here, I’m sure Shinobu is able to-“

“I love you.”

You hate him.

No.

You love him?

“And I’ve loved you for so long that I lost count a long time ago. I love the way you walk, the way you inspect the world around you so carefully. I love how tender you are when it comes to children. I love your kindness, your calm voice-“

“Wait, this wasn’t supposed to go like this!”, the demon cries out.

“I love the feeling of your eyes set on me even though I know I’d never stand a chance. You are so much more than a friend to me, so precious that it hurts. And I can’t help but imagine myself lying inside your arms every night. I can’t help but stare at you whenever I catch you training. I can’t stop those butterflies from invading my stomach every time you’re around. I love you with all my heart even though I know you’d never love me back.”

HIs mind goes blank, ocean blue eyes staring at you in sheer disbelief. Suddenly everything else around you goes silent. The demon, the screams from afar. All he’s able to see is you with those tears glistening in your orbs.

Giyu’s heart skips a beat when he begins to realize.

You really mean it. Every word you just said is true.

“But I do feel the same way about you”, he finally replies while cupping your hands with his.

“I just never thought someone like you would fall for someone like me.”

“I would always choose you”, you clarify in an instant.

And then your eyes roll back into your skull, your lifeless body threatens to hit the cold ground.

-later-

“Giyu? Where’s Giyu?”, you croak out before you even open your eyes, your heart hurting so bad that you feel like puking.

What happened? All you’re able to remember is Giyu’s hands intertwined with yours before everything turned black. Or was it just a dream?

“Finally, I was so worried about you, (y/n).”

But no. At this very moment, he still holds onto your hand tightly while looking down at you with his brows furrowed.

“What happened?”

“You were poisoned by a demon and lost consciousness. I carried you to the butterfly estate”, he explains as briefly as ever.

“You…carried me?”

“Of course I did. You were unconscious, like I said.”

“Did we hold hands?”, you blurt out so suddenly that you even scare yourself.

You can feel Giyu sliding back and forth on his chair, eyes avoiding yours at any cost. Oh no, did you make him feel uncomfortable? What if he’s annoyed because of your foolish mistake? You should have never asked him-

“(y/n), do you remember the conversation we’ve had on the battlefield?”, he questions with unspoken hope glimmering inside his orbs.

“I…I don’t remember anything…”, you finally admit.

What did you talk about? Did you insult him? And what about that demon? That thing definitely wasn’t a lower ranked demon.

“You told me you love me.”

Your heart leaves your body and soul behind, glossy eyes staring at him in sheer disbelief. Fuck, did you hear that correctly? You told him you love him?

“I…I said that?”, you stutter.

“I mean…M-maybe I h-hit my head a l-little too h-“

“And I love you too.”

Oh.

This is even more ridiculous.

“You love me?”, you shriek in reply.

“I never thought about the possibility that you might actually like me back. But when that demon poisoned you, when you told me that you love me…I can’t keep this lie up any longer. I love you, (y/n).”

Gently, he wraps his comforting arms around your aching body, allows you to take in his calming scent.

“It embarrasses me that it took a demon to finally say this out loud.”

“But…would you mind telling me what I said?”, you mumble against his neck.

He lifts up your head enough for you to catch a glimpse of his breath-taking smile.

“I’d rather keep these words for myself.

Bonus: Genya Shinazugawa

“Where’s (y/n)!?”, Mitsuri cries out in sheer panic while darting around the estate in a haste.

“(y/n)? I’ve seen her on her way to the hot springs just a few moments ago”, Tanjiro replies in utter confusion.

“Is there somebody else, Tanjiro-kun?”, Mitsuri continues while grabbing Tanjiro’s shoulders roughly.

“Hello, Genya”, you purr.

“(y-y/n)!? What the hell are you doing here, I’m taking a bath!”, Genya cries out with his cheeks already bright red.

But instead of getting lost like he told you to, you let your towel fall to the floor.

And stand in front of him.

Completely naked.

“What are you doing!?”, he shrieks.

In the matter of seconds, he turns himself away from you, his face burning like a thousand fires. Fuck, he’s already flustered when you’re around him in your uniform. But you, butt-naked, in the same hot spring? He’ll definitely die here.

“I needed to see you. There’s actually something I wanted to tell you in a long time, Genya.”

When the water around him starts to move due to you entering the hot spring, he feels like dying out of excitement and fright. You shouldn’t be here together, not when you’re completely naked, not alone. He never prepared himself for something like this to happen, didn’t even allow his mind to wander such places. Fuck, what is he supposed to do?

Suddenly, he finds himself whirled around in your arms, your chest pressed against his.

Your very naked chest.

Fuck.

Fuck fuck fuck.

“What are you doing!?”

“Come on, I saw the looks you were giving me when you thought I wasn’t watching”, you purr while drawing small circles onto his chest.

“I…no…I didn’t mean it…that way…I just think that…that you are awesome. And cute…”, Genya mumbles.

“(Y/N)!”

Another splash, another butt-naked woman that now grabs your shoulders and pulls you out of the water with impressive strength.

“I’m so sorry, Genya! I fear (y/n) mistook the love portion I made for juice!”, Mitsuri bubbles while trying to tame you down.

“CAN THE TWO OF YOU JUST LEAVE ME ALONE NOW!?”

Tags: @chilichopsticks @hellkaiserinphoenix  @ynackerman9499 @keepghostly @beatrexworld

@froufrousnowman @hidazinie @tomiokathedepresso  @poketrainer2270 @chaoticwinnercupcake

@lees-chaotic-brain @wordskeeper @polarbvnny @sugu-love @ryva @baku2345

@komelrebi-san @kentocalls @barbuse @sunshine7queen @lavenderdrxp

@yaninnaacu @hopefulbelievertimemachine @laurencrsnt @sanemifucker

[moonxknightx]

♡˗ˏ✎*ೃ˚ :LET ME TAKE CARE OF YOU: :;

╰┈➤ ❝ [PAIRING] ❞ Logan Howlett x F!Reader

・❥・GENRE: Fluff :))

 ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆FANDOM: X-Men

ੈ✩‧₊˚ WARNINGS: None!

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥SUMMARY: After realizing you got your period, Logan does everything to make it a little bit better for you.

“ARE YOU AWAKE SWEETHEART? WE HAVE TO GET UP, WE HAVE A MEETING IN 30 MINUTES.” Logan’s voice sounded from behind you.

You slowly opened your eyes to see sunlight shining through the blinds of Logan’s window’s. You wanted to turn around to meet your boyfriend, but suddenly an aching pain started to rise in your belly. You mumbled something Logan couldn’t hear while hugging the sheets closer to your body.

“What was that bub?” Asked Logan while moving closer to you, placing one of his big hands on your hip.

“You go, i stay.” You mumbled quietly. “What happened?” Logan questioned softly while moving even closer to you, letting you be the little spoon.

“I think i got my period.” You sighed. “Oh baby...” Breathed Logan before carefully turning you around so you could lay on your back.

“Is there something i can do for you?” He asked while lifting up your shirt, well technically it was Logan’s shirt, but you always had a habit of stealing his shirts.

You softly shook your head, watching how Logan slowly placed his hand on your lower stomach.

“You have warm hands.” You said which made Logan chuckle. “Does it help?” He questioned.

You hummed while nodding your head. “Noted.” Smiled Logan before pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“Why don’t i draw you a warm bath while i will go to the meeting, and afterwards i will come back and we can cuddle in bed all day. Sounds good?” Logan proposed while keeping his hand on your belly.

“Can’t you join me in the bathtub?” You asked quietly. Logan’s lips curled up in a smile while dropping his head against your shoulder.

“I wish i could bub, but i really should be attending this meeting. Otherwise Scott will kill me.”

“Fine…” You sighed with a pout. “I promise i’ll come back immediately after the meeting is finished, okay?” Logan said while pressing a kiss to your shoulder blade. You gave Logan a nod.

“Okay let’s draw you a bath then.” Logan smiled before slipping away from you. You watched how he got out of bed and headed to his private bathroom.

A few moments later, Logan returned from the bathroom and headed to his closet.

“What are you doing?” You asked while watching every move Logan made. “Grabbing clean clothes for you to wear after your bath.” Logan smiled while pulling out a black hoodie and a pair of black sweatpants from the closet.

“Thank you Logan.” You smiled. “It’s the least i can do baby.” Logan shot you a wink and put the clothes on his bed. After, he went to another drawer and pulled out a pair of boxers. “If you want you can wear this as well afterwards. I think all of your panties are in the laundry.”

“Thank you.” You sighed softly before making an attempt to get up.

“Wow wait! Let me help you.” Logan immediately rushed to your side of the bed and scooped his arms under your body so he could lift you up in his arms.

“Such a gentleman.” You joked while wrapping your arms around Logan’s neck. “Always for my sweetheart.” Logan smiled while carrying you to the bathroom.

He gently put you back on your feet before turning off the tap of the bath. You watched how Logan put his hand in the water to test its temperature.

“Is this okay baby?” Logan asked while motioning for you to come closer. You came closer to the bathtub and slowly put your hand in the water. “It’s perfect.” You smiled at Logan.

“Perfect.” Logan smiled before taking a seat on the edge of the bathtub.

“Here let me help you undress.” Logan placed his hands on your waist and pulled you in between his legs.

He first took off your shirt, admiring every curve of your body. Then he went over to take off your shorts and underwear, but you quickly stopped him.

“Don’t…there might be blood.” You spoke quietly. Logan gave you an ‘are you serious right now?’ Look before shaking his head.

“Do i look like i care about a little blood?” He asked with attitude. You shrugged. “Well no but still, it’s different.”

Logan gave your hips a little squeeze. “It’s not, i promise.” You gave Logan a small nod, telling him it’s okay to take off your shorts and underwear.

You didn’t look at him while he did it though. You found it too embarrassing.

Logan tapped your ankle to let you know you could step out of them which you did. “And done.” Logan smiled while throwing all of your clothes in the laundry basket.

“You are so beautiful darling.” Logan breathed while admiring your body. “Shut up.” You mumbled while trying to cover your body.

“Hey now, don’t do that. Here now, let me help you.” Logan offered his hands and you took them immediately. He raised from the edge of the bathtub and carefully helped you into the tub.

“There you go.” He smiled when your body was fully covered with the warm water.

“Thank you Lo.” You smiled while giving his hand a squeeze. “Of course sweetheart.” Logan smiled while kissing your forehead.

“I still have some tampons and pads in the top drawer above the sink, okay?” Logan said while pointing towards the cabinet.

“Okay.” You smiled softly. “I’ll go to the meeting now, i’ll be back within an hour, stay in the water as long as you need and when you’re finished, just put on the clothes i put out for you and get comfortable in bed, okay bub?”

“I love you Logan.” You sighed happily. Logan chuckled and looked down at his feet, getting a little shy at your words. It doesn’t matter how many times you tell the man that you love him, every time he hears those three words, he’ll get flustered.

“I’ll take that as an okay, and i love you too sweetheart. So fucking much.” Logan smiled before leaning in to give you one more kiss before going.

“I’ll see you soon.” Logan said before he went back into his bedroom to get changed for the meeting

~

“Okay so that was all for today.” Announced Scott as he placed both of his hands on the table.

Logan was the first one to get up and leave the room, immediately wanting to get back to you.

“Why is he in such a rush?” Asked Scott annoyed. “He wants to get back to his girl of course.” Smirked Storm while shaking her head softly.

Before Logan went back to you, he passed by the kitchen to grab a chocolate bar and a heating pad to help you ease the cramps.

“I’m back bub.” Said Logan happily once he entered his room to see you being sprawled out on his bed.

“Finally!” You sighed with a smile. “I’m sorry it took so long. But to make it up to you, i have brought your favorite ice cream with me and a heating pad for your belly.” Logan said proudly while holding up the two things.

“What would i do without you Lo?” You smiled as you welcomed your man back to bed. He placed the ice cream on the nightstand on your side before handing you the heating pad. “Be careful!” Logan quickly said while getting into bed as well.

You carefully placed the heating pad on your belly before moving closer to Logan who already had his arms wide open for you.

“How are you feeling?” Asked Logan while stroking your hair. “A little better. The bath really helped! Thank you for taking such good care of me.” You smiled.

Logan just smiled at you before pulling you into a passionate kiss.

“You look amazing in my clothes.” Logan chuckled as he parted ways from your lips to catch his breath. You blushed a little which made Logan laugh even more. He loves it when you get shy with him.

“Now eat your ice cream before it melts darling.” Logan said while looking down at you. “Only if you’ll help me, because i will never finish it alone.”

“My pleasure baby.”

[dreaming-medium]

Stray Kids Kinktober Day 7

Stray Kids Kinktober Masterlist

Virginity - Jeongin

Word Count: 9.5k

Summary: Long distance friendships work most of the time. But what about when that friendship was supposed to be more? What about when the distance spans over several time zones instead of cities.

—————————————————————

He’ll always be the one that got away, that’s what you tell yourself. 

But it’s not like he’s gone completely, no, Yang Jeongin is still in your life every single day. He’s just not physically present now. 

The two of you went from spending every single waking moment together to then only seeing him when he’s able to come home during breaks in his idol schedule. 

Which is basically never. 

When he left Busan, he took your entire heart with you.

The night before he left for Seoul, you told yourself over and over again that you were going to confess to him. That you weren’t going to let him leave for stardom without knowing how you felt. 

And if he didn’t feel the same, then the distance would help. 

And if he did… then who knows what would happen. 

But, when the moment came. And Jeongin was hugging you goodbye in his childhood bedroom, you froze. 

“Jeongin, I need to tell you something,” you murmur into his chest during a tight hug. 

His hand runs down the back of your hair, his nose digging into the top of your head to smell your coconut shampoo. 

“What is it?”

Your heart was beating so fast, you thought it might explode. With the way your ear was pressed against his chest, you’re able to hear his heart thudding against his ribs as well. 

He’s probably just nervous about leaving, that’s all. 

Every thought flies from your head. Not a single word of your practiced speeches in the mirror come to mind. 

He’s leaving. He’s leaving. He’s leaving. 

“Y/N?” Jeongin tries to catch your attention by squeezing you tighter. 

“Just…” you trail off, blinking the tears away from your eyes. Your throat constricts and gets tighter and tighter. “Just don’t forget about me when you’re famous, okay?”

Jeongin rocks you both from side to side, a thoughtful hum coming from his throat. 

“I don’t think I could forget about you even if I tried, Y/N,” he whispers into your hair. “I’ll text you every chance I get, FaceTime and calls too. You know I will.”

The desperation in his voice causes the tears to finally fall down your cheeks. The other half of your soul was leaving. 

Who was going to walk to school with you? Split another menu item with you so that you both could have two different things? Watch scary movies with you and launch popcorn everywhere?

“I know, Jeongin.” A hiccup shakes your chest. “You’re going to be famous before you know it. And you’ll have other famous people lining up to be your best friend.”

“Yeah, well, that spot is already taken.”

Jeongin pulls away from you slowly to look down at your tear-ridden face. 

“No amount of distance will change that, okay? I’m serious.”

You bite your lip and look down at the floor with a pathetic nod. 

Two fingers hook under your chin to bring your eyes back up to his. They’re glossy and brimming with his own unshed tears. 

“Cross my heart,” he hushes and draws an ‘X’ over his chest with his free hand. 

“Cross my heart,” you sob and mirror the action. 

“Now, stop crying. You know you’re an ugly crier.”

“When are you leaving, again?”

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

It’s embarrassing to say, but you did have little faith in Jeongin to keep the promise. 

But you’ll be damned. Because he did so to the best of his abilities. 

No, you two were not attached at the hip anymore, sipping soda through the same straw. But you remained as close as ever. 

Conversation never dulled over texts. 

Sure, there would be periods of time where you would only hear from him once or twice a day. But that’s normal, especially with longer distance friends. 

Also, with a schedule like his, it’s a miracle that you get to hear from him at all. 

The first year was the hardest. When your birthday passed and he wasn’t physically in the room with you at midnight for the first time, it felt like a dagger to the heart. 

Yes, he was on FaceTime with you, but it wasn’t the same; and you both knew it. 

Life continued. It didn’t stop in his bedroom like you thought it would. 

The ache faded. You adapted. He adapted. But your friendship remained constant. 

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

“America?” Jeongin asks bewildered on the phone. 

“It’s a full ride, Jeongin! I’d be stupid not to accept it.” 

You’re laying on your bed, painting your nails with the phone in between your shoulder and your ear. 

“I mean, yeah, but like… didn’t you also apply to the University of Seoul?”

“I did, but they’re not offering me a full ride. You know my family’s financial situation, I have to go where the money is.”

“But… but what about plane tickets and such? Wouldn’t the cost just balance out?” he stutters. His tone sounds strained and choked. 

You almost wish you were on FaceTime right now so you could see his expression. He was never good at hiding secrets from you, you can read him like a book. 

“Not really… I’d probably just… live there for four years and come back when I’m done,” you mumble and then blow on your wet nails. “Jeongin, I really wasn’t expecting this type of reaction…”

The sadness of your voice can’t be helped. 

Jeongin had no idea you applied for the photography program at the California Institute of Arts. It was on a whim that you sent your application in. 

He makes a choked noise on the other end of the phone. “I-I’m sorry, Y/N. I’m happy for you, I really am! I’m over the moon excited! California! That’s-“ he clears his throat. “That’s incredible.”

He’s crying. Yang Jeongin is crying right now. 

You sit in silence for a moment and stare blankly at the wall in front of you. With each word that comes through the phone you can feel your heart breaking. 

“I can’t believe it!” He continues with his fake happiness. “California! Woo… just- just like in those movies we used to watch to-together!”

Clenching your jaw to stop your own tears, you pull the phone away from your face and tap the FaceTime button. 

The line rings a few times before you hear Jeongin gasp and stutter even more. 

“I have to go, Y/N. Chan is calling me to do something!”

“I didn’t hear—“

“Bye, Y/N!”

The line beeps three times to signal he hung up. Your phone displays the failed FaceTime call. 

Numbness floats through your chest for a moment before something harshly tugs on your soul. 

He was expecting you to come to Seoul. To come closer to him, wasn’t he? 

You drop your phone onto your bed and continue to sit there, staring into space. 

Yes, you wanted to go to Seoul with him, you desperately wanted to do that. 

But, you need to think in the long run here! Four years longer away from him in exchange for a lifetime free of debt. 

It’s only four years, max.

Tears prickle your eyes and you grit your teeth to try and stop them. 

Shit, Jeongin. Come on. 

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

You went to America. You made the hard choice, but the right one. And you know it, too. 

Jeongin knew it too. Hidden underneath all of the grief of you moving even further from him, he was endlessly proud and happy for you. 

But now, instead of a two hour train ride, you were an eleven hour plane ride away. Your day was sixteen hours behind his. 

Now, if he texted you and asked what you had for dinner, you would tell him about last nights’ meal or what you were thinking for later. 

There were only about two hours a day where you were able to talk at the same time and it was killing him slowly. 

When your classes for the day were ending, he was waking up for the next day. When you were getting ready for bed, he was finishing lunch. 

If he wanted to FaceTime you at the end of his day, it was the middle of your work day. 

You were losing each other. 

He was able to do two different cities in the same country, but two continents was its own animal. 

Jeongin would lay awake in bed at night, knowing you’re up and moving around. It would haunt him while he tossed and turned. 

Because in his mind, you’re also the one that got away. You were the only reason he almost didn’t audition to become a trainee. 

But, your entire life, you talked about attending the University of Seoul for college. So, he bargained with himself and became a trainee because eventually the two of you would be together. Right?

No.

Now, you’re in America. You’ve been in America for two entire years. 

Making new friends, meeting new people, experiencing everything without him. 

The knife twisted in his gut when he started noticing the same name floating around your conversations when you spoke about friends. 

Ryan. 

It was always ‘Ryan said this’, ‘Ryan did that’, ‘Ryan showed me this’. Jeongin wanted to scream and pull his hair out. 

It was only a matter of time until he got the phone call he was dreading. 

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

Jeongin had just sat down in the living room of the shared dorm when his phone rang. His seven other members were flitting in and out of the room. 

They all knew you very well. Jeongin talks about you so much they would swear you were everyone’s childhood best friend. 

The few times you were able to visit him in person before leaving for America, everyone always got along famously.

He answered your FaceTime call immediately. 

“Hey!” you say as soon as you see his face. “Are you busy right now?”

“No, not at all. We don’t have anything until later today. What time is it?” Jeongin looks at the clock. “It’s almost 9 PM by you, what are you getting ready for?”

You placed your phone down on your desk. “Well, ah— that’s actually why I’m calling you, I need your advice.”

Felix and Seungmin both walked into the living room, talking quietly and sat down on the couch opposite him. 

“What’s up? Are you okay?” Jeongin asks. 

Both the other boys perk at his tone and look over. 

“I’m um… going on a date tonight. Ryan had asked me out with him tonight. So I wanted your advice on what to wear, since you’re a fashion God.”

The floor beneath him crumbled. His heart fell through the sofa and into the Earth. Even his fingertips go numb. 

A date? You were going on a date? With Ryan? You were going on a date with Ryan. 

You were going on a date. With Ryan. 

“Jeongin?” You ask again when he doesn’t answer for a few moments. His eyes are completely unfocused and spaced out. 

He snaps out of it and clears his throat. “What um— What did you have in mind? It’s getting chilly out, right? Maybe wear a sweater? What about that cable knit one I got you?”

“Jeongin it’s LA! It’s always 70 degrees here.”

“But the restaurant might be cold.”

“I’ll bring a jacket then.” You laugh at him, unaware at the absolute anguish he was feeling. “I was thinking something like… you know that black skirt? That with this new tube top I got aaaand my knee high boots.”

“No.” He answers quickly, your face falls. “Why don’t you do the top with jeans?”

“It’s a nice place.”

“M-Maybe a dress then.”

“Jeongin.” 

Seungmin And Felix were watching everything unfold in front of their eyes. It was like a car crash, they couldn’t look away. 

Jeongin kept going, “I really liked that long sleeved red one you wore for Christmas last year.”

“Jeongin..”

“And if that doesn’t work I just think the sweater is the best option here.”

You stay silent, letting Jeongin finish his ramblings. 

There’s a solid fifteen seconds of silence between the two of you before you spoke up on the other line. “Are any of the other boys in the room with you?”

Jeongin immediately looks over at Felix and Seungmin. “Yeah, Min and Lix are here.”

You nod a few times, refusing to look at the camera. 

“I gotta go, Jeongin. I’ll text you later, okay?”

“Y/N.”

“Bye. I’ll text you when I get home safe.”

“Y/N, wait!”

Three beeps signal the end of the phone call. 

He sits there for a long moment, just holding his phone in his hand before he drops it onto the coffee table. 

His heart is shattering into a million pieces. 

Jeongin buries his face in his hands, elbows resting on his knees. 

Both of the other boys sit there, unsure of what to do next. They glance at each other and then back to Jeongin, who hasn’t moved. 

“Jeongin…” Felix calls out gently. 

The boy lifts his face up from his hands and looks over at his friends. “What am I supposed to do? A date. She’s going on a date. And I’m on the other side of the world.”

His throat bobs with a gulp and he pulls at his pants anxiously. 

“Jeongin.” Seungmin tries to grab his attention. “I think she was just looking for support.”

He’s right. He’s completely right, but Jeongin is so blinded with jealousy he can’t think straight. 

“I’ve loved her since we were thirteen and she’s going on a date with someone else.”

“You don’t even know if it will last.” Seungmin tries to comfort him. 

“They’re already super close, she talks about him all the time, it’s always ‘Ryan, Ryan, Ryan’. He’s her new best friend, not me. She was supposed to come here, to Seoul, not go to America. And we were going to.. we were going to–” He chokes up and can’t get it out. 

Jeongin abruptly stands up from the couch and snatches his phone off the table. 

“I’m going for a walk.”

And with that, he was gone. 

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

He won’t answer any of your texts or calls. 

It’s been two weeks since your date with Ryan and you still haven’t heard from Jeongin. 

It feels like a giant punch in the gut. 

All you want to do is talk to him but he’s nowhere to be seen. He hasn’t even sent you a text to say he’s busy or when he can finally talk again. 

Just radio silence. 

You thought about texting one of the other members to try and get through to him, but it feels so high school that you decide not to. 

All you want to do is talk to your best friend. 

But he doesn’t want to talk to you, it seems. 

It has to be because of the date. There’s no other explanation behind it. Everything was fine until you told him you were going on a date. 

You’ve been here for two years now! Did he expect you to stay single forever?

Just because he has a dating ban, doesn’t mean you do too. 

The more you think about it, the angrier you get. The smoldering ashes of your rage don’t dim. Not one bit, they just simmer and flicker on. 

It all bubbles and reaches a boiling point one Friday where you’ve had entirely too much to drink. 

Your friends dragged you out to a frat party where you drank yourself stupid. Nothing eventful happened at the party, but when you stumbled into your apartment and you were left alone with your phone, it all hit a head. 

[March 3 11:48 PM] 

Y/N: I’m home safe.

[March 4 4:22 PM]

Y/N: How’d your day go?

[March 5 7:31 AM]

Y/N: Jeongin please talk to me. I have so much to tell you

[2:01 PM]

Y/N: I saw a cute lil baby Fox on my way to class this morning, made me think of you :) 

[March 13 6:12 PM]

Y/N: You’re just going to keep ignoring me, huh?

[March 19 3:58 AM]

Y/N: YanG Jeongin. 

Y/N: you can’t fucking  ignore me forever 

Y/N: or maybe you can. 

Y/N: is that what you want???? Me to be gone????? All these fucking years of friendship down the drain????

Y/N: well fuck you too, I guess 

[4:02 AM]

Y/N: I got hired for your stupid fucjing group’s world tour. For when you come to America

Y/N: I fucking begged my professor to give me the gig for a project. It’s an internship. Was gunna see you next week and everythinfg 

Y/N: surprise, asshoke

Y/N: and now you won’t fucking talk to me. Do you realize how petty you’re being? How childish? Over what? A guy?????? I cant fucking back out now, my professor would kill me. 

[4:09 AM] 

Y/N: the whole tour I was gunna spend with you

Y/N: fuck you, Yang Jeongin. 

Y/N: and your stupid fucking childishness. 

Y/N: why cant you just be fucking happy for me for once. 

Y/N: it took me so long to get over you. Why do you keep doing this to me? 

[4:14 AM]

Y/N: Was I supposed to wait forever?

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

Jeongin stepped out of the shower and looked at his phone. 

Fifteen unread messages from you. It’s 4 AM in America, why are you awake right now?

He was so embarrassed over the way he acted two weeks ago that he couldn’t bring himself to talk to you. 

But my god, he only made it worse. 

Jeongin goes through every single emotion while reading your texts. You were going to be one of their photographers for the Manic tour? 

You were going to travel with them?

His thumbs quickly tap his phone and as he’s about to click the phone call button, he freezes in his tracks. 

‘It took me so long to get over you. Why do you keep doing this to me?’

‘Was I supposed to wait forever?’

His entire face drops, the excited palpitations of his heart turn sour and what feels like a knife is stabbed through his chest. 

Fuck fuck fuck. 

He stares down at his phone for what feels like an hour before he hurries out of the bathroom and right into Chan’s room. 

Chan looks over at his member with a startled expression. 

“Jeongin? Everything alright?”

“No, no everything is not alright.” He thrusts his phone into Chan’s hand. “What do I do? What should I say?”

Chan looks down at the phone with wide eyes, he quickly scans over the text. His face seems to go through all the stages of grief that Jeongin’s did, just a bit more watered down. 

“You have to call and apologize, Jeongin. She’s definitely a bit drunk right now, but you need to call her.”

Jeongin gulps and his hands clench and unclench several times before he takes his phone back from Chan. 

“Can I sit in here while I do it?”

“Yeah, of course.”

He sits down on the edge of Chan’s bed, staring down at his phone like a deer in headlights. 

Chan just stares at him, not knowing what to do. 

“What do I even say, Chan?”

“How about you start with ‘I’m sorry I was a dick and ignored you’?”

Jeongin groaned and curled in a bit, his jaw clenching with anxiety. 

His thumbs move around the screen, but they don’t tap the call icon. 

Chan watches. “It’s in the top right.”

“I know!”

“Well you weren’t doing anything.”

“Agh!”

Before he could second guess himself, he tapped the call icon and held the phone up to his ear. 

It rings … and rings… And rings…

It doesn’t even go to voicemail. Jeongin’s heart drops through Chan’s bed. 

He brings his phone away from his ear and checks that it’s your number he dialed. 

It is. 

He hangs up and immediately tries again. 

It rings … and rings… And rings…

Chan’s eyes follow him closely. His face falls when he figures out what’s going on. 

“Jeongin…” he whispers and wheels his chair closer to him on the edge of the bed. 

Jeongin doesn’t listen. He hangs up and tries again with shaking fingers. 

“I’m sure it’s just a bad connection, right?”

It rings … and rings... And rings…

He hangs up again with a cry. 

When he looks down at your conversation he sees another notification. 

[8:15 PM]

[Y/N has stopped sharing their location with you.] 

You blocked him. You really blocked him. 

“She’s drunk, Jeongin. Give it until the morning, yeah?”

Jeongin stares at his phone for a long moment. “Yeah.”

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

The next morning was filled with embarrassment and shame on your side. 

When you rolled over with a groggy mind and upset stomach, the first thing you did was check your phone. 

You were still in your dress from last night, your makeup was now smeared all over your face and onto your pillowcase.

A few texts from friends, a couple from Ryan, Instagram notifications, Snapchat, nothing from Jeongin. 

Your face pulled into an ugly sneer for a moment before it quickly morphed into horror when you tapped on your conversation. 

“Oh my god.”

You sat up quickly in bed, and almost immediately regretted it with how your stomach lurched and head spun. 

Rereading all the texts, you wanted to slam your hungover ridden head over and over again into the wall. 

You stopped sharing your location with him? Why would you…?

Oh, shit. You blocked him, didn't you?

Your hand runs through your matted hair nervously and you stare down at your phone. 

“You dramatic bitch!” You curse yourself and gnaw at your lip. 

What do you do? What do you do?

Obviously, you tap around to his contact and unblock his number. 

The texts immediately flood in. 

[March 19 4:25 AM]

Jeongin: Y/N, im so sorry

Jeongin: please answer 

Jeongin: Y/N please unblock me

[4:31 AM]

Jeongin: I don’t know what to say other than I’m sorry. I didn’t know how to go about apologizing 

Jeongin: you’re halfway across the world right now, Y/N, please. 

Jeongin: why can’t you just be a two hour train ride to Busan anymore. 

[4:38 AM]

Jeongin: I miss my best friend, please

Jeongin: I’m so endlessly proud of you. I brag about you every single day.

Jeongin: that picture you took of the Seoul skyline is still my background. The one with our hands. 

Jeongin: I like that it makes me think of you each time i open my phone

[4:44 AM]

Jeongin: i knew you couldn’t wait forever, that’s why it hurts so bad, Y/N

Jeongin: why did I choose this path? It hurts so bad, Y/N

Jeongin: i care about you so deeply

Jeongin: you’re the only one for me

Jeongin: when you left for LA, you took every part of me with you. 

[4:57 AM]

Jeongin: im so proud of you, Y/N. I guess I’ll just see you starting next week for the tour. 

Jeongin: i’ll wait for you

Jeongin: cross my heart

“Fuck,” you whisper, your voice cracking. Tears welling up in your eyes. 

Is he serious? 

What are you supposed to do right now?

A text from Ryan comes in as you’re staring at your phone. 

[12:41 PM]

Ryan: did you still want to come over tonight?

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

A week passed. 

Another entire week without talking to Jeongin. 

It was like color was slowly draining from your world. 

You know you should reach out to him, but shame and embarrassment kept blocking your path to your best friend again. 

But now, you had no choice. 

You stood in front of a large office building, your bag slung over your shoulder, heart in your throat. 

Once you stepped inside this building, it would be the first time in over two years that you and Jeongin were inside the same walls. 

If you had pictured this moment just a month ago, you would’ve been kicking open these doors and sprinting through the halls until you finally laid eyes on him again. 

But now, you find that it feels like your feet have melted into the concrete sidewalk. 

Looking down at your watch, you see that you still have another thirty minutes before you have to be in the meeting. And your mouth is painfully dry. 

A bell dings to your right and you see a coffee shop. 

Perfect. 

You quickly turn and walk into the shop, the same bell dinging to announce your arrival. 

The barista welcomes you in, takes your order, and tells you your total. 

As you’re fumbling for your wallet, an arm reaches out from behind you and swipes their card to pay for your coffee. 

“Oh, thank you! You didn’t have to—“ you turn and your breath catches. 

None other than Bang Chan stood behind you with that charmingly bright smile. 

“Hi Y/N,” he beams. 

“Chan!” you squeal and wrap your arms around him. You completely forgot everything for a moment, especially when he envelopes you in his strong arms. “What a nice surprise!”

“Hi, Y/N,” he says into your hair.

A throat clears behind you so you jump apart to apologize to the barista. She just laughs and takes Chan’s order. 

The two of you stand off to the side to wait for your drinks. 

“How was the flight in?” you ask, bouncing on the balls of your feet. 

“I’ll be honest, I slept through the whole thing, so I’m not sure.”

“It’s probably the only sleep you’ve gotten this week, hm?” 

Chan laughs and rolls his eyes, but he doesn’t deny it. 

The barista calls out a name.

Chan shifts from foot to foot. “I know what happened.”

You tense up and look down at your feet. 

“How much does he hate me?” 

If you’re being honest, you really don’t want to hear the answer. 

Chan scoffs, “Hate you? He doesn’t hate you. He’s just hurt, Y/N. The same way you are. You both hurt one another.”

Looking off to the side, you cross your arms. “Yeah, well. He started it.”

“Don’t be childish.” He nudges you playfully with his elbow. “Distance is hard for close relationships. It was a miracle that you two went this long without a fight.”

You nod your head and bite your lip. 

“I miss him so much.” 

“He’s just across the street, you know.” 

You laugh which causes Chan to laugh.

The barista calls out your name and then says Chan’s right after. 

“Come on, Y/N,” he loops his arm through yours and you both walk out of the coffee shop and into the office building. 

You sip your coffee nervously, the taste is barely hitting your tastebuds with how preoccupied your mind is. 

The elevator ride up to the appropriate floor is simultaneously the longest and shortest ride of your life. 

What’s the worst that can happen, Y/N? He punches you in the face? Pushes you down the stairs? Maybe grab your coffee out of your hand and dump it over your head?

As if he ever would. 

The doors open and you both step out of the elevator. 

Loud voices carry down the hall and you giggle. 

“It’s been so long since I’ve heard you guys in person and not over a phone.”

“It’s louder in person.” Chan sighs and leads you down the hall. 

Each step is a death march of sorts. 

The conference room door swings open before Chan could grab the handle. 

Your heart rate spiked and then flatlined. 

Jeongin stood there with wide eyes and parted lips. He stared at you with every single emotion known to man. 

“Hi Jeongin,” you whisper, holding your coffee tighter. 

He says nothing. 

Jeongin steps out of the doorway and wraps you up tightly in his arms. One hand on the back of your head, the other on your waist. 

A surprised noise leaves your lips and your eyes widen. 

The coffee cup is taken from your hand by Chan who slinks into the conference room, the door closing softly behind him. 

Without a second thought, you return the hug. 

When your arms wrap around him too, a sigh of relief leaves Jeongin’s mouth and his shoulders slump inwards even more. 

He didn’t expect you to hold him. He didn’t expect you to even want to see him. 

Your arms tighten around his body and it feels like ice thawing from his heart. 

Jeongin’s throat tightens and he buries his face into your hair, inhaling deeply. 

He hasn’t held you in so long. He’s missed your touch so badly. 

Jeongin, who hates skinship, couldn’t wait to have you touch him. 

Your hand begins to rub circles on his back and he melts into you like a puddle. 

“I’m so sorry, Jeongin,” you whisper. 

The dams of his heart begin to crack and break. Every pent up emotion he’s felt for the previous three weeks bubbles to the surface. He stifles a sob and holds you tighter. 

“No, please, I’m sorry, Y/N.” His chest sputters with a cry. 

You pull back from him and look up at him with red, glassy eyes. “We’re both idiots, aren’t we?” you push out a laugh in between tiny cries.

You’re trying with all your might not to let the tears fall down your cheeks.

Jeongin isn’t doing much better. His eyes are red and you can see the tears brimming in them.

Three weeks, you haven’t talked. It was the longest span of time the two of you went without speaking ever. 

You reach up and cup both of his cheeks. Jeongin’s eyes close and he leans into your touch.

“I missed you so much, Jeongin.”

He winces at your words and his lips pull into an even deeper frown,

Jeongin brings his hand up to cup yours against his face. “I’m so sorry, Y/N.” he repeats.

You step closer to him and press your lips to his cheek. Jeongin gasps under his breath and stiffens underneath you. The skin underneath your lips heats up.

“I forgive you, Jeongin.” You smile and back away from him. He watches you closely with wide eyes. “It’ll take more than that to get rid of me, you know?”

He smiles sheepishly and nods. “I forgive you too, you know.”

The elevator pings behind you and your new boss walks out with another important looking man. 

He smiles kindly at you. “Let us get this meeting started, no?”

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

The first concert went off without a hitch. 

Because of your position, you’re traveling with the entire crew and the members. Sleeping in the same hotels, going to the same restaurants, using the same transportation.

Sometimes you feel like a ninth member.

The boys all stood on stage with their hands interlocked to take their first final bow of the tour. You smile behind the camera and make sure to get all of them in the shot.

Jeongin spots you from the stage and smiles directly at you in the media pit. Your smile pulls even brighter and you focus the camera on him for some solo shots.

He winks once before turning to wave goodbye to some Stays in the floor seats.

Your heart flutters, it’s the happiest you’ve been in weeks. Hell, maybe even months.

All of the members exit the stage soon after and you walk with your security escort backstage.

You’re able to hear them before you see them. They’re as loud as ever, yapping about how well everything went, how happy they were to see so many Stays, how they can’t wait for the next show.

When you turn the corner to the dressing room with a bright smile on your face, they all turn and look at you.

“Congrats, guys!” you cheer and clap for them.

They all beam and say thank you. 

Jeongin crosses the room to stand by you. He still has his beanie on.

“What did you think?” he asks happily.

“I loved it! I think I took close to two thousand pictures. Maybe more. I’ll have to go through them on my laptop later.”

“That can wait!” Minho calls from the back of the dressing room. “We’re celebrating tonight!”

“Celebrating how, Mr. Lee?” you tease and hear his signature giggle.

“With booze and games back at the hotel.” Jisung answers for him. 

“Oooh,” your mood brightens. “I’m always up for that. You’re right, pictures can wait.”

“Great, then it’s settled.” Jisung claps his hands together once. “One hour, we all meet in my room.”

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

They were not joking around with the amount of booze on his hotel counter. You would swear you were at another frat party.

In your cup, you were nursing your third rum and coke of the night. You made the mistake of asking Changbin to make this one. After the first sip you knew this one was going to have to be taken slow. 

Everyone was sitting in various seats in the room, some on the bed, some on chairs or the floor. The TV was playing a movie that no one was paying attention to.

“Okay, Felix, truth or dare.” Hyunjin asks.

“Truth– no, dare– no, truth.”

“Final answer?”

“Truth.”

“Who was the last person you stalked on social media?” Hyunjin asks, taking a sip of his drink.

“Ah,” Felix thinks for a moment with pink cheeks. “Oh! An old friend from Australia.”

“Just a friend?” Minho jokes.

“Yes, yes, just a friend.” Felix laughs, waving him off. “Y/N, truth or dare?”

You perk up from your seat on the couch. Jeongin sat on your left, his entire side flush with yours.

“Um, truth, I don’t feel like getting up.”

“What’s your body count since you went to America?”

Your eyebrows raise and you cock your head to the side.

Jeongin stiffens up noticeably next to you, he practically jokes on the drink that he was taking a sip of. “Felix, you can’t just–”

“Two.” you answer quickly and take a large swig of your drink.

Jeongin’s head whips around to look at you as if you just shot everyone in the room. You stare back at him with a confused face.

“What?” you ask, getting defensive. Embarrassment crawls up your neck. “I know it’s not a lot, but I’ve been focused on class and everything, you know?”

“No, I just– I didn’t think that–” Jeongin stutters and looks everywhere but at you. “I didn’t know and you–”

“Tell you everything? I didn’t think you wanted to hear about it.”

“Was it Ryan?” he blurts without thinking.

Your face pulls into a shocked, angry expression. “Excuse me?”

“Was one of them Ryan?” he presses further. The alcohol gave him loose lips. 

“Why would–”

Chan interrupts the two of you, “Anyway! Your turn Y/N.”

You stare at Jeongin for another couple of moments before looking away at the group of men. You shake your head in disbelief before taking a deep breath. 

“Seungmin, truth or dare?”

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

“You know you didn’t have to walk me back to my hotel room, it’s only one floor up.”

Jeongin insisted on walking you back up to your room when everyone started turning in for bed. The hotel hallway was eerily quiet compared to the noise filled room that the two of you just left.

“You never know what could happen in a hotel hallway.” He reaches up and rubs the back of his neck nervously.

The two of you take the stairs up to your floor and walk in silence until you reach your room.

“Oh, wait. There was a picture I took tonight that I want you to see! Really quick, come on!” You quickly unlock your door and drag him into your room. 

Jeongin stumbles in and looks around. Your room is spotless, just a few clothes strewn about. 

You walk over to your camera sitting on the desk and pick it up, looking through the pictures for the one you wanted to show him.

He watches you closely, your face is only illuminated by the small screen display. Your tongue is sticking out between your lips in concentration. 

Two? You slept with two people since you’ve been in America? Jealousy began churning deep within his gut and coursing through his veins.

He’s been so busy with being a trainee, then debuting, then training and rehearsing and recording that he hasn’t… he hasn’t been able to be with anyone. Nor has he wanted to. Because none of the people he could have were you.

Jeongin was so hopelessly devoted to you.

Your phone dings on your desk and you look over at it, an angry sneer twitches at your lips and you roll your eyes and then look back at your camera.

“What was that?” Jeongin asked, stepping closer towards you.

You look at Jeongin, then at your phone, then to your camera. “Nothing, you don’t need to worry about it.”

Jeongin lifts a brow curiously. You look back up at him and roll your eyes.

“It’s Ryan.”

Oh, Jeongin saw red for a moment. But, he kept it to himself to the best of his abilities.

“How’s that going, by the way?” Jeongin asks. He really does not want to know the answer. But, morbid curiosity got the better of him.

You hesitate, your finger stops moving on the camera to scroll through the album.

“It didn’t work out.” you tell him without looking up.

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

You bite your lip and look up at him. “Are you? Are you really, Jeongin?”

Jeongin is taken aback by your small outburst. “Y/N, I–”

“Because you seem to be super invested in him, Jeongin.” you lower the camera, staring Jeongin in the eye. “Every time I bring him up, your eye twitches. You can’t fool me, I know you too well. I know you hate the guy.”

“I don’t hate him.”

“Then what if I did fuck him?”

Jeongin scoffs and looks away angrily, he crosses his arms over his chest. “I wouldn’t care.”

Oh, he cares so much. His skin is fucking crawling.

“Look at me, Jeongin.”

His jaw clenches and he hesitates.

You put your camera back on the table and cross the final few steps until you reach him. You reach out and grab his chin between your thumb and pointer finger, forcing him to look at you.

Jeongin’s eyes widen and he stares at you.

“Look at me and tell me you don’t care.”

His face twists in anguish. He stares deeply into your eyes, flickering back and forth between them. His mouth screws up in a frown, eyebrows pulling together.

He gulps.

“Say it.” you push. “Say you don’t care if Ryan fucked me.”

“I…” he opens his mouth and promptly shuts it. He swallows again. “I can’t.”

“Why?” you hush.

The grip on his chin tightens even more when he tries to look away from you.

Alcohol thrums through both of your bodies to create a pleasant buzz and lift your confidence levels with one another. 

“Why, Jeongin?”

“Because!” he cries out. His arms uncross and he grabs both of your shoulders tightly. “Because maybe I want to be the one fucking you! Is that what you wanted to hear?”

You’re taken aback for a moment. Truly, you didn’t expect him to be so crass.

“Because maybe I would lie awake in bed at night thinking about being your one and only.” Jeongin steps towards you and you back up until your knees hit the edge of the bed. “Because you drive me fucking crazy and I want you all to myself. Because I can’t stop thinking about fucking you into my mattress every single night!”

Your hand drops from his face but he snatches it up in his own larger one. 

“Do you understand how bad I want you?” he whispers harshly. His nose is scrunched up and he’s talking through gritted teeth. “I’ve wanted you so badly for so many years. I can’t even look at anyone else because you exist. I’ve only ever had eyes for you. No one else exists, no one else makes me feel like you do.”

“How do I make you feel?”

Jeongin stares at you for a moment before he brings your hand down to press at the crotch of his pants.

Through his sweats you can feel just how hard he is. Both of you whimper at the touch.

“I want you so bad, it hurts.” Jeongin begs. “I don’t want anyone else. I want you. I want you to be my first. I can’t be your first, let me be your last.”

Your heart is hammering against your ribs. 

Is this really happening?

“Please, Y/N,” Jeongin whimpers. “I’m begging you.”

He’s begging you to take his virginity right now? Right now?

“Now?” you ask, bewildered.

His dick twitches in your hand and he closes his eyes in what looks like pain, but you both know it’s pleasure.

“Please.”

The tension in the room snaps. 

“Jeongin.” you grab his attention.

His eyes snap open and look at you.

“Kiss me.”

He gasps, cock jumping in your palm again before he smashes his lips against yours with a grunt. 

He’s absolutely devouring your mouth with his. It’s wet and sloppy and completely inexperienced. But what he lacks in experience, he makes up for in enthusiasm.

Moans are slipping from his lips left and right as your tongues intertwine together.

Your hand slides from his dick up his body to tangle in his hair. Your other reaches up and you grab one of his from your shoulder to place it on your waist. He paws at your shirt with his long fingers.

You nip gently at his bottom lip and he moans.

“Am I dreaming?” he whispers against your mouth.

You reach around and pinch his side. He yelps and jumps a bit. 

“No, not dreaming.”

He swoops down and locks your lips once more. Your fingers massage his scalp and comb through his hair. 

You part from his lips for a second to yank your shirt off. Jeongin watches you with hungry eyes, he’s trying so hard to maintain eye contact with you, but he keeps glancing down at your chest.

“Yours too.” You point at his shirt.

It looks like he practically ripped the thing off. It flies off the top of his head and onto the floor. His bare arms come around your exposed waist, his lips searching for yours.

He’s frantic in his movements, like if he isn’t kissing you, he might die.

You grab his hands and bring them up to your bra clasp.

“I don’t–”

“Learn.” you hush against his lips and suck on his bottom lip. He moans and his fingers grasp at the clasp clumsily. 

He’s so focused on trying to unclasp your bra that you take the opportunity to kiss his jawline with an open mouth. Your teeth nip at his sharp jawline and he gasps.

Down his neck you trail your hot, wet kisses. 

With each passing moment, you can feel his desperation growing and growing. A frustrated whine comes from his chest when he can’t get it.

You bite his collarbone harshly and his knees buckle slightly, but he keeps himself up.

“Y/N!” he cries out, pulling so hard at your bra you think it might snap in half.

You giggle and have mercy on him. You reach behind yourself and unhook your bra in one movement.

It drops to the floor and this time, Jeongin has no reservations about staring at your naked chest. His lips part and his own chest starts heaving with pants. 

Another laugh comes from you. 

His eyes flicker up to yours for a split second.

“Are you going to touch me or just stare?” you tease him with a sultry smirk.

Both of his hands come up and cup both of your breasts in greedy handfuls. You moan at the sensation and wrap an arm around his neck, bringing your lips back to his.

Jeongin fondles your breasts, thumbs brushing over your nipples gently. Your back arches into his touch.

“Do it again,” you breathe out. He immediately follows your command, pinching and rubbing at the sensitive buds. Every single one of your noises is swallowed by his wet, swollen lips.

His kisses leave your lips and travel down your neck. They’re too gentle and innocent for your liking. 

“Fuck, bite me, Jeongin.” you beg.

Without any hesitation, his teeth sink into where your neck meets your shoulder. You cry out and roll your hips into his. 

The hands on your tits stutter in their movements before speeding up, the lust consuming his brain. 

He bites again and again just to feel your hips move against his, to hear your moans right next to his ear.

The tent in his gray sweats seems painful at this point. He continues to rut against your body for any sort of relief. 

Threading your fingers through his hair, you pull his mouth off your neck. HIs lips break their suction seal with a pop and he looks into your eyes.

He already looks so fucked out it sends a bolt through you.

“Let me make you feel good,” you whisper against his lips. 

If it’s his first time, you want it to be memorable. 

He doesn’t put up a fight at all. His mind is completely gone, he just nods over and over again. You could tell him ‘jump’ and he’d say ‘how high?’.

Your hands slide down his sculpted chest, mapping out each of the muscles. Jeongin keens under your touch, closing his eyes and sighing in pleasure.

When your hands get to the top of his pants, you quickly slide them down, taking his boxers with them. 

Gray sweats pool around his ankles and his long, hard cock bobs as its set free from its fabric confines. 

Jeongin hisses when the cold hotel air hits him.

You lean up on your tiptoes and capture his lip between your teeth for a moment at the same time you grab his dick gently.

The whine he lets out is sinful.

He’s been dreaming of your touch for so many years, and now that your hand is finally wrapped around him, he can’t believe it. 

You release his lip and it snaps back into place.

Slowly, you slide your hand up and down his cock. So much precum is weeping from the head of his cock. Every movement pulls a noise from Jeongin. 

“Sit on the edge of the bed, Jeongin.”

He gulps and obeys your order, his cock standing proud between his parted legs.

Jeongin watches you closely as you sink down to the ground onto your knees. He fists the sheets on either side of his body with white knuckles.

He has to be dreaming. This has to be one of his wet dreams where he wakes up with ruined pants and sheets. 

Settling between his thighs, you run your hands up his legs. Jeongin watches your movements with a fucked out expression. The way your fingers glide over his skin raises goosebumps. 

One of your hands comes out and grabs his cock with a gentle, yet firm, grip. His eyes snap shut and he can’t stifle the moan that punches from his chest. 

His cock is so slippery from his own precum that your hand glides over the skin easily. 

You pump him up and down for a bit, alternating your grip from firm to gentle, changing the tempo from fast to slow.

His hips won't stay still on the bed, he can’t keep still even if he wanted to. The pleasure from your hand is fucking killing him. It’s all consuming.

You smirk. “Jeongin, look at me.” 

He cracks his hazy eyes open just to see you lean forward and lick a fat stripe up his entire cock.

Jeongin cries out and his head tilts back. His hips jump around and his legs feel like they go numb.

You open mouth kiss down the sides of his shaft.

The pleasure shoots up his spine, he can practically taste the electricity. 

Just when he thinks it can’t get better, you wrap your entire mouth around him and sink down to take as much of his cock as you could without gagging.

His hand flies to your hair and grips tightly. The strands weaving through his lithe fingers.

Up and down, you bob on his shaft, making sure to let the saliva pour from your mouth and down over his balls. 

Jeongin doesn’t even realize how hard he’s pulling your hair until you moan around him. He cries out at the vibrations and pulls even harder. 

Your other hand wraps around whatever you couldn’t fit in your mouth. 

He’s on cloud nine, he can barely breathe. Every intake of breath takes his full concentration, you’re making him feel so fucking good.

No matter how many times he’s touched himself and imagined it was you, it could never compare to the real thing.

His eyes follow your head, watching his cock disappear into your mouth as you stare back at him with those sinfully innocent eyes.

You’re going to be the fucking death of him. 

He’s only able to last for a few moments with your mouth on him before Jeongin is panting out.

“Y/N, you- you gotta, ha– You gotta stop or– or I’ll– fuuuuck– Im c-close and I– hng! But I wanna–! I wanna–! I wanna fu-huck you!”

You swirl your tongue around his head and pop off his cock, sit dribbling down the sides of your mouth.

“You wanna fuck me, Jeongin?” you ask him with a sweet tone. It fucking kills him.

“Yes,” he pants out, “It’s all I want.”

“You’re gonna let me pop your cherry?” you ask, looking up at him through your lashes. After you ask that, you lean over and bite his inner thigh.

Jeongin yelps and tightens the hand in your hair. 

An embarrassed flush covers his neck and ears. “Please, Y/N.” he whimpers. 

Smirking, you stand up from the floor and make quick work of your own sweatpants. Jeongin watches you like a starved man at a buffet. His tongue darts out of his lips and licks them when your panties drop to the ground.

“How do you want me, baby?” you ask him sweetly. 

He tears his eyes away from your naked pussy to look up at you. He gulps.

“How do I…?”

“You want me on top? You want to fuck me from behind? You want to be on top? How do you want me, sweet Jeongin?” Your hand comes out and caresses his cheek. “How do you want our first time?”

His cock jumps at the thought of you in each of those positions.

But one sticks out.

“Need you underneath me,” he whispers, keeping eye contact while his hands come up to rest on your hips.

Your hand cards through his hair. It’s so fluffy.

“Whatever you want, Jeongin.”

Leaning down, you press your lips to his in a sweet kiss. It’s the tamest one you’ve shared tonight.

When you break apart, he chases after your lips, but you crawl onto the bed, laying down and making yourself comfortable on the pillows.

Jeongin follows your movements with innocent, fucked out eyes. He licks his lips again and his eyebrows pull together as he watches you.

You part your legs and run a finger through your sopping wet folds, making a show out of displaying yourself to him. He watches it like a hawk.

Slowly, you bring the finger up and stick it in your mouth, tasting your own juices.

“Come on, Jeongin. You said you were going to be my last.”

He turns and scrambles onto the bed, crawling over you and smashing your lips together desperately. Both of your legs wrap around his waist while he devours your mouth with his own.

His tongue is everywhere in your mouth, licking your own, invading and licking the roof of your mouth, coming out to lick your lips.

When you whimper, you feel his cock jump against your heat. Your hips roll onto his and his hips buck downwards into yours.

Both of you are moaning, panting messes when he pulls away.

“I don’t have a condom.” he says painfully.

“I’m on the pill.”

“Are you sure?”

“Jeongin, please fuck me already. I’ve waited my entire life for this.” you smile up at him with shiny eyes.

His eyes search yours with an equally sentimental look in them.

He nods once and lines himself up with your entrance. His head rubs along your folds a few times, making himself slick.

Your head tilts backwards into the pillows.

“No, please, look at me.” he begs breathlessly.

Immediately, your eyes snap open and you gaze into his.

Two heartbeats pass and he presses into you, his cock invading your soaking walls. The stretch feels so fucking good, you’re so horny for him.

Jeongin is the one that has the harder time keeping his eyes open, his pupils are blown out. His jaw drops in a strained moan, face screwing up almost painfully with how much pleasure is coursing through his veins.

His hips stutter a few times until he bottoms out.

“Holy fuck,” he whines. His hands clenched into fists next to your head. 

“You feel so fucking good, Jeongin,” you praise him, your own voice is fucked out. 

“I’m not going to last,” he cries and buries his face into the crook of your neck.

“Don’t worry about me,’ you coo.

His hips buck again and he whimpers into your skin. 

“Jeongin,” you call to him and he lifts his head. His hair is so ruffled and messy, lips are swollen and wet, cheeks covered in a permanent blush. “Fuck me until you cum.”

His eyes roll back in his head and his hips pull out and slam right back into yours. Both of you cry out, your back arches.

Jeongin continues to fuck into you at a sloppy, harsh pace. His eyebrows furrow in concentration. He looks down at your tits bouncing with each thrust, his head dips down and he takes one of your nipples into his mouth.

“Jeongin!” you cry out and arch into him. He moans around your nipple, biting it gently and rolling it with your teeth.

His thrusts are getting frantic.

He pulls off your tit with a pop and comes up to your face.

“Need you to cum with me,” he murmurs before capturing your lips. “Need it, need it, fuck! I need it, Y/N!”

“Give me your hand.”

He balances his weight on one of his hands and holds out his other one. You guide him down to your folds and press his long, beautiful fingers against your clit.

“Mmmm…” you moan when you guide him to rub in circular motions.

He feels you clench around him and he whimpers into your open mouth. 

“Just like that, Jeongin.” you rasp. “Keep that up and I’ll cum on your cock.”

“Jesus.” 

He rubs faster in some moments, slower in the others. His mind is swimming in the clouds. Everything feels so fucking good. 

Your whines get louder and louder, each one more higher pitched than the last.

“Close, close, close…” you breathe out against his lips. “Hah!”

Thank god. He’s been this close to blowing his load for the last four minutes, but he needed to feel you. He needed it.

“Yes, Jeongin! Yes!”

His thrusts get harder, his rubbing on your clit matches the timing. 

You reach around his back and scratch your nails up his back.

“Come on, Y/N.” he whines. “Cum for me, Y/N. Need to feel you cum around me.”

Your pussy clenches down on him impossibly tight, your head is thrown backwards and your mouth stretches open in a silent scream.

It throws him over the edge, he spills into you with one of the most feral noises he’s ever made in his life. It tears from deep within his chest.

He cums forever, painting your insides white. 

Jeongin buries his face in the crook of your neck as you both come back down to Earth. Your heavy breathing fans out over his back.

One of your hands starts rubbing up and down his naked skin. It’s warm and inviting and he wants to curl into it forever.

He eventually pulls his face away from your neck and looks down at you with stars in his eyes.

“Good?” you ask.

Jeongin laughs and leans down, pressing a kiss to your nose. “It was perfect.”

“Promise?”

“Cross my heart.”

[beomiracles]

for kinktober: yeonjun + knife/gun play if you’re feeling it :3

𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐓𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒

DAY 16 : CHOI YEONJUN + KNIFEPLAY DARK CONTENT ��� “Don’t worry, I promise to take care of you this time”, he murmurs, brows furrowed as he lets the flat of the blade press against your naked skin.

Knife play is a form of consensual BDSM edgeplay involving knives, daggers, and swords as a source of physical and mental stimulation. 

pairings yandere-ex!yeonjun x fem!reader warnings heavy yandere themes, dub-con, kissing, vaginal fingering, hints at previous abuse, knife play but it’s also used as a threat, reader has sort of an internal crisis !

#serene adds ✎ I love this one, even though I'm not too sure just how big the actual knife play part is.. >-<

EVENT POST

“Are you scared?” 

The question was rhetorical, you could tell by the low and menacing drawl of his lips. Still you shake your head, swallowing the lump in your throat as you try to calm your nerves. Your small objection makes his face twist into a sour grimace as Yeonjun draws in closer. The sharp knife glints under the pale moon when he brings it to your throat, its sharpened edge resting just above your palpable pulse, blood flowing beneath your warm skin. 

He towers over you, his expression dark as his body cages yours against the cold and rough brick wall. Your eyes flicker down the narrow and vacant alleway, the last bit of hope you’d clung onto flushing out onto the pavement along the heavy rainfall. — You hadn’t heard from him in months, you thought that you were finally rid of him, that you were finally safe. 

But as soon as you’d let your guard down, he appeared. It was as if he’d been waiting for you to slip up, to make a mistake, and you had. Fuck you should’ve asked Soobin to follow you home, but you didn’t want to bother him, and it was late.. One act of kindness had led to one of malice as your ex-boyfriend cornered you, seemingly out of nowhere as he appeared from the shadows. 

“I think you should drop the knife.” You try your hardest to sound calm, as if you were talking to a slightly delirious and insane person, but Yeonjun was. His lips curl into something halfway of a smile and a smirk, you couldn’t quite place it, but it made him look uncanny. The sharp silver is firm against your throat and you find it hard to breathe. "Yeonjun, I'm serious..” But there’s a shaky edge to your voice, and you know he can pick up on it. 

“Baby. I don’t get it..” His brows furrow, the inside of his cheek caught between his teeth as the knife drops from your neck. “Thought you liked this, us, I mean”, he continues, his free hand traveling down your side before coming to rest on your hip. — You go to shake your head once more but quickly stop when you catch his expression. 

“We.. It just wasn’t right, okay?” You try to make it sound as painless as possible, choosing to leave out the details of the hell he’d put you through. Yeonjun shakes his head, readjusting the grip on the knife as his eyes snap back to yours. “I’ll make it right”, he states and before you have the chance to question him, does he connect your lips in a desperate kiss. 

You try to push him back, nails clawing at his chest but it’s to no avail. “We can go back to how things used to be”, he breathes against you, tongue invading your mouth and you gasp. Sure Yeonjun had gone to extreme lengths over the past six months in order to get you back, but this was a whole new level. And as the dull end of the knife slides up your thigh, you let out a terrified scream against his lips. 

“No, no, no, shh”, he hushes you with a hand on your mouth, eyes darting around the alleway anxiously before they return to you. “I would never hurt you baby.” The phrase is all too familiar and your stomach draws into knots. Still, your hands give up on pushing him away, instead they anchor themselves in his shirt as you exhale. 

He flips the blade, using the pointy tip to slice through your long dress as he creates a makeshift slit in the fabric. “Don’t worry, I promise to take care of you this time”, he murmurs, brows furrowed as he lets the flat of the blade press against your naked skin. The cool sensation sends shivers through your body and you shudder. 

“Just like how it used to be”, he repeats to himself as his hand dips beneath the waistband of your panties, fingers slipping down to part your folds as he drags them along your cunt. You know you should stop him, call the cops, have him locked up, make him go away. So why couldn’t you, why did you let him do this? 

The knife now rests against your chest, his grip on it is lazy as he focuses on his fingers inside your weeping cunt, eyes glued to the scene of them disappearing before withdrawing covered in slick. You could easily take it from him, overpower him, he was weak when it came to you. But you don’t. 

Instead you let your head fall back against the brick behind you, a shallow moan passing through your lips as your nails dig into the apex of his shoulders. “See, I always make you feel so good”, Yeonjun hums as he slides a third finger inside, curling it along with the others as he pulls a small cry from you. 

He seems to regather focus as he grips the knife firmly again, letting it trace along your exposed collarbone, watching with great fascination as you shudder in both fear and arousal. 

Perhaps you liked his sadistic ways, perhaps that's why you let him terrorize you like this. Perhaps that was why you had yet to report him to the police, why you’d let this go on for six months.. Did you crave the validation he gave you? Or were you in love with the idea of being loved by him? You didn’t know, you didn’t want to think about it for either thought scared the living daylights out of you. 

“I love you, you know that?” He whispers, his fingers slowing to a more gentle pace as he momentarily withdraws to play with your soaked folds, briefly flicking over your clit, relishing in the way you moaned against him. It was all the confirmation he needed, it was what he needed to keep longing for you for another eternity. 

You weren’t in love with him, but you couldn’t imagine a life without him.

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[awkward-walking-potato]

Apple of His Eye - Part 2

The morning sun had barely started to climb into the sky when you arrived at your bakery, a spring in your step as you prepared for another day of sweet treats and smiles. But the moment you turned the corner and saw the front of your shop, your heart dropped into your stomach.

The large front window of your bakery was shattered, glass littering the sidewalk and your display cases. The once inviting entrance now looked like a crime scene, and the beautiful pastries you’d worked so hard to perfect were now covered in a fine layer of glass dust. You stood there in shock, unable to move as the weight of it all came crashing down on you.

Who would do this? And why?

You sank to your knees, your hands trembling as you tried to piece together what had happened. Thoughts raced through your mind—how were you going to afford to fix this? Could you even open the bakery today? Your customers, your regulars, they all depended on you. And what about Logan? He’d come in expecting his pie, and now you couldn’t even offer him that.

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you thought about the costs of repairing the window. You had already poured everything into this little bakery, scraping by to make it a success. The idea of paying for a new window was almost too much to bear.

As you sat there, lost in your despair, you didn’t notice Logan approaching. He had been on his way to the bakery, the promise of a fresh apple pie and your bright smile drawing him like it did every morning. But when he saw the broken window, his heart clenched with a mixture of anger and concern.

“Hey,” Logan’s rough voice broke through your haze, pulling you out of your thoughts. You looked up to see him standing there, his brow furrowed, his fists clenched at his sides.

“Logan,” you whispered, your voice shaky as you tried to blink back the tears. “I don’t know what to do…”

He didn’t say anything at first, his gaze sweeping over the shattered glass, the ruined pastries, the look of sheer devastation on your face. His jaw tightened, and you could see the anger simmering just beneath the surface.

“Who did this?” he growled, his voice low and dangerous.

“I-I don’t know,” you stammered, wiping at your eyes. “I just got here and… I can’t afford to fix it. I don’t know what I’m going to do…”

Logan’s expression softened at your words, the anger giving way to something else—something protective. He knelt beside you, reaching out to gently take your hand in his. “You’re not gonna deal with this alone,” he said firmly, his thumb brushing over your knuckles in a rare show of tenderness. “I’ll take care of it.”

“But Logan—”

“No buts,” he cut you off, his tone leaving no room for argument. “You go home, get some rest. I’ll handle it.”

You looked into his eyes, seeing the steely resolve there, and despite your anxiety, you felt a small glimmer of hope. Logan had always been a force of nature—unmovable, unstoppable. If anyone could help, it was him.

Reluctantly, you nodded, allowing him to help you to your feet. “Thank you,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Logan just grunted, giving your hand a final squeeze before letting it go. “Go on,” he said, his gaze flickering back to the broken window. “I’ll take care of everything.”

You gave him one last grateful look before heading home, the weight of the morning’s events still pressing down on you, but with the faintest sense of relief. Logan was here, and somehow, you knew he’d find a way to make it right.

Later that evening, long after you had gone home, Logan sat at the bar with his “brothers,” the same crew that had teased him mercilessly about his feelings for you. But tonight, there was no joking around. They could tell by the look in Logan’s eyes that this was serious.

“Someone smashed up the bakery,” Logan growled, his voice low and dangerous. “I want it fixed by tomorrow morning.”

The bikers exchanged glances, each one of them nodding in understanding. They might have been a rough bunch, but they looked out for their own—and Logan, despite his gruff exterior, had made it clear that you were important to him.

“We’ll handle it,” one of the bikers said, cracking his knuckles. “We know a guy who can get the glass replaced tonight, no questions asked.”

Logan gave a curt nod. “Good. And find out who did it,” he added, his voice dropping to an even darker tone. “I want to have a word with them.”

The men nodded again, a ripple of agreement passing through the group. Logan didn’t need to say anything more. They knew what he meant, and they weren’t about to let anyone get away with hurting someone he cared about.

As the night went on, the bikers got to work. They called in a favor with a friend who specialized in emergency repairs, and within a few hours, the shattered window was replaced, the broken glass swept up, and the bakery was restored to its former glory. It was as if nothing had happened.

Meanwhile, Logan had been tracking down the culprit, following the trail of whispers and rumors that circulated in the darker corners of the city. It didn’t take long to find out who had done it—some local thug trying to extort protection money from small businesses in the area.

Logan found him in a back alley, and what followed was quick and brutal. By the time Logan was done, the thug was left bruised and bloody on the ground, a clear message delivered: No one messed with the people Logan cared about. Ever.

The next morning, you arrived at the bakery, dreading the sight of the shattered window. But when you turned the corner, your breath caught in your throat. The window was fixed. There was no glass on the ground, no sign of the damage that had been there the day before.

You stood there in shock, trying to process what you were seeing. How could this have been fixed so quickly? And by who?

Then, you noticed something else—a familiar scent wafting through the air. You hurried inside, your heart pounding, and saw a single apple pie sitting on the counter, still warm from the oven. Next to it was a small note, written in Logan’s unmistakable scrawl:

“Everything’s taken care of. See you soon.”

Tears welled up in your eyes as you clutched the note to your chest. Logan had done this. He had made everything right, just as he had promised.

A few hours later, when Logan walked through the door, you didn’t say anything. Instead, you just smiled at him, the warmth in your gaze saying more than words ever could.

Logan gave you a small nod, his usual gruffness in place, but there was a softness in his eyes that hadn’t been there before. He took his coffee and his pie, the morning ritual restored, but as he turned to leave, you reached out and gently touched his arm.

“Thank you,” you whispered, your voice full of emotion.

Logan paused, looking down at you. For a moment, he seemed like he was going to say something, but then he just nodded again, a rare, almost shy smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Anytime,” he said simply, and with that, he walked out of the bakery, the door jingling behind him.

But as he rode off into the morning, the taste of your apple pie still fresh on his tongue, Logan couldn’t help but feel that maybe, just maybe, there was more to life than leather jackets and cold nights on the road. There was warmth here, in your bakery, in the way you looked at him, and he found himself wanting to protect it, no matter what.

[starsjulia]

angel chapter four // the strongest

a/n : sorry this one is a bit boring and short, the next ones are better i swear

warnings : the same as previous

masterlist

The days seemed to blur together as Angel’s treatments continued. Each week brought a new challenge—an unexpected side effect, a frightening scan result, or a moment when Angel’s energy would dip so low that Leah could hardly recognize the vibrant little girl her daughter once was. But then, there were the good days—days when Angel’s laughter echoed down the hospital corridors, her smile shining as brightly as ever. Those moments, however brief, reminded Leah that there was always hope.

Leah’s life had become a careful balancing act, constantly moving between hospital rooms, training sessions, and the occasional Arsenal match. Football had always been her escape, a place where everything made sense, but now, it was also a source of guilt. Every time she left Angel’s bedside, even if only for an hour, a part of her worried about missing something important. She felt torn between two worlds—one filled with goals and victories, and the other with IV drips and whispered prayers.

Her Arsenal teammates noticed the strain, and they did everything they could to lighten the load. When Leah was at training, they made sure someone was always at the hospital with Angel. Katie would FaceTime Leah whenever Angel was feeling up to chatting, allowing mother and daughter to share a moment even when they couldn’t physically be together.

“Look, Mummy!” Angel exclaimed one day over the phone, her little face filling the screen as she held up a drawing of herself with Leah on the football pitch. “We’re winning the Champions League!”

Leah’s heart swelled at the sight of her daughter’s determination. “We will, baby. One day, we will,” she promised, her voice steady, even though she could feel the tightness in her chest. It was hard to imagine that future when every day felt like a battle, but Leah held onto that dream for both of them.

Back at the hospital, Angel’s room had become a miniature Arsenal shrine. Scarves, signed jerseys, and handmade “Get Well Soon” cards from fans lined the walls. Leah had even brought in one of Angel’s favorite things from home: a small, slightly worn football. Though Angel was too weak to play, she kept it close, her fingers tracing over the faded Arsenal crest on its surface whenever she felt scared.

Leah would spend hours by her daughter’s side, telling stories of her own childhood and how she fell in love with football. “I used to kick a ball around in the garden all day,” Leah said one night, as she and Angel lay together in the narrow hospital bed, wrapped up in a warm blanket. “I think that’s where I got my first bruises and scrapes.”

“Were you ever scared, Mummy?” Angel asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Leah thought about that for a moment. She could remember moments when she was scared—missing a penalty, or the time she was sidelined with a serious injury. But nothing compared to the fear of potentially losing her daughter. “I was,” she said honestly. “But I always found a way to be brave. Do you know how I did it?”

Angel shook her head, her blue eyes wide with curiosity.

“I thought of the people I loved,” Leah said, gently stroking her daughter’s head. “And how much I wanted to make them proud.”

Angel listened quietly, then squeezed Leah’s hand. “I’m not scared when you’re here,” she murmured, and Leah felt a lump form in her throat.

“Then I’ll always be here,” Leah promised.

Some days, though, Leah needed to recharge. On those occasions, Angel’s grandparents would take over. Leah would drive to a nearby park, sit on an empty bench, and let the wind whip through her hair, closing her eyes as she tried to regain the strength that had been sapped by sleepless nights and constant worry. It was in those quiet moments that she would often find herself thinking back to the person she was before this—someone whose biggest worry was an upcoming match. How distant that life seemed now.

Returning to the hospital on one such day, Leah was greeted by the sight of Angel sitting up in bed, surrounded by a few of her teammates. Lia was there, reading a book out loud while Beth and Viv sat on the other side. They all turned as Leah walked in, and Lia gave her a reassuring smile. “We’ve got everything under control here,” she said.

Leah felt an immense wave of gratitude. “I don’t know what I’d do without you all,” she admitted, her voice shaky as she took a seat next to Angel, who immediately nestled into her side.

Jen glanced over at Leah. “We’re family,” she replied simply. “We’re in this together.”

Still, as the days stretched on, there were moments of helplessness that no amount of support could alleviate. Leah vividly remembered the night Angel had spiked a sudden fever. The panic that surged through her as doctors rushed into the room, the way her daughter’s small body seemed even more fragile beneath the tangle of wires and tubes—it was a kind of fear Leah had never known before. She felt utterly powerless, holding Angel’s hand and whispering soothing words, even as her own heart raced uncontrollably.

“It’s okay, love. You’re okay,” Leah kept saying, more to herself than to Angel.

The fever eventually subsided, and Angel’s condition stabilized, but it left Leah with an overwhelming sense of exhaustion. She’d thought she understood what it meant to be strong, but this was a different kind of strength. It was the kind that came from watching someone you love suffer and having no choice but to keep fighting alongside them. It was the kind that took everything you had and demanded even more.

The next day, Angel seemed to sense her mother’s weariness. She reached for Leah’s hand and whispered, “Mummy, are you okay?”

Leah was taken aback by her daughter’s question. Angel was the one who was sick, the one who needed comforting. Yet here she was, trying to comfort her mother. Leah forced a smile and kissed Angel’s forehead. “I’m okay, sweetie. As long as you’re fighting, I’m fighting too.”

Angel’s small smile was a balm for Leah’s frayed nerves. “We’re fighters, aren’t we?” Angel said, squeezing Leah’s hand.

“The strongest there are,” Leah replied, pulling her daughter closer.

The moments of peace were few and far between, but they were precious. Leah would lie beside Angel at night, whispering about all the things they would do when Angel was better. “We’ll go to every Arsenal game,” Leah would say. “You’ll get to be the mascot and lead the team out onto the pitch. And after that, we’ll go anywhere you want. Paris, Disney World, America, anywhere baby”

Angel’s eyes would widen with wonder. “Even Paris?” she’d ask, her voice filled with a mixture of hope and disbelief.

“Even Paris,” Leah would assure her. “And when we get there, we’ll eat the biggest ice cream sundaes we can find.”

In those quiet hours, as they lay side by side, it was easy to pretend that their world hadn’t been turned upside down. In those moments, Leah felt the strength of their bond more acutely than ever. It was a strength born out of love, forged through struggle, and it kept them going, even on the hardest days.

[suzuarou]

never quite free | shouei barou

⋆˙⟡♡ wc: 3.9k

⋆˙⟡♡ tags: gn reader, childhood friends, so much pining, barou is a softie for his person, barou-centric, reader is drunk, one (1) instance of vomit

⋆˙⟡♡ a/n: i love when mean, loud characters are softies for their person. so i wrote 3.9k words about it with the mean, loud man that has been haunting my every thought. enjoy!

at the wise age of seven, after just witnessing you punch a boy in the face for insulting your sidewalk chalk art, shouei barou made you a promise: he will always be there for you. he swore that day, crossed his heart and hoped he’d die if he ever failed you (far too serious for a seven year old, but he has always taken his promises very seriously), he will drop everything to help you.

“but why?” you had asked, and grabbed your chalk to resume your drawing.

he crouched down next to you to get a better look at what you had done so far, red eyes tracing over the rainbow you were trying to perfect. “you’re too pretty to be punching anyone.”

and, to seven year old shouei’s credit, he’s consistently kept his promise over the years. even after your parent’s split and you were allowed to be neighbors every other weekend. even after high school finally separated you two and he could only walk you halfway to campus before your routes diverged (he would always carry your bags for you until that point). even during the blue lock program when talking to you was a privilege he had to earn rather than something he did every single day. and now, as a professional athlete with an obnoxiously busy schedule, shouei is always there for you, sponge and wet wipe in hand, ready to clean whatever mess you’ve inevitably made.

which is why, at two o’clock in the morning, after too many drinks at a bar you’ve never been inside of before, it feels like second nature to call him.

alongside with keeping his promises, shouei also keeps a very strict routine. so when his cell phone starts trilling at an ungodly hour, his first instinct is to curse out whoever thinks it’s a bright idea to disrupt his sleep during his off-season. but once the cobwebs of sleep clear from his brain, he realizes there’s only one person who can bypass the do not disturb mode on his phone: you. he’s swiping his thumb across the screen in a heartbeat.

there’s a thump of some sort of bass music in the background of the call, several different conversations muddled together to create a white noise effect, and then your voice breaks through it all, a bit slurred but still carrying a familiar soft quality to it.

“shou-kun,” you breathe into the line, and shouei is up and putting pants on.

“where are you?” his voice isn’t unkind, but the gruffness of sleep is still thick and causes him to sound more irritated than he actually is.

you give him the name of the bar you’ve found yourself in, and shouei is punching in the address on his phone’s gps as he’s sliding a shirt over his torso.

“stay on the phone with me?” you ask, and he can hear the pout on your lips.

he sighs, pinches the bridge of his nose. “yeah, sure, but go somewhere quieter. loud as shit and i’m still waking up.”

you sound a bit more sober as you reply, “‘m sorry, shou-kun. i can ask someone—”

“don’t be. i’m getting my shoes on. keep talking to me.”

it takes every ounce of self control to obey the traffic laws on his drive to the bar. logically, he knows you’re okay. you’re babbling on about the intricacies of a sourdough starter (“is it even worth all of that effort?” “i’ll make you a loaf and then you can tell me if it is.”), and sipping on some water (bottled of course, and he made you watch the bartender hand it to you). you seem to be your usual, bubbly self, even if you’re refusing to tell him why you’re out so late to begin with. but still… his overprotective streak has been going strong for nearly two decades, and he won’t feel satisfied until you’re in the passenger seat of his car, buckled in and safe.

the bar is as sleazy as it sounded over the phone—drunk people hanging around outside smoking, the thump of the base-heavy music rattling outside, flashes of lights streaming through the frosted windows. definitely not your typical scene. but then again, this entire night isn’t very typical for you. you have never been one to drink excessively, let alone at bar you’ve never been to before, so to have to navigate through an intoxicated crowd to find you is something shouei doesn’t have much experience in. a few faces flicker with blurry recognition, and shouei ducks out of their line of sight before a conversation he really doesn’t feel like having begins.

shouei’s irritation level does significantly decrease when he finally spots you sitting at a table all by yourself, water bottle halfway emptied, your brow furrowed in a way that lets him know your thoughts are heavy. the outfit you’re wearing suggests you had intentions of someone seeing you in it, rather than sulking at a bar surrounded by strangers too drunk to recognize their own reflection. acidic jealously churns shouei’s stomach, ugly green and caustic and deadly to nearby organs. he tries his best to ignore it. now isn’t the time for his ego. his top priority is getting you out of this sorry excuse of a bar and to safety.

the way your eyes light up upon seeing him make his guts churn even more for an entirely different reason.

“shou-kun.” you breathe out his name like a sigh of relief, like even just saying it brings you comfort. this time, his heart flutters, and it irritates him even more.

your name rolls off his tongue gruffly, and he’s reaching over to pull you near him. “what are you doing here?” he asks over the loud music as he acts as a shield through the crowd of intoxicated partygoers. “do you know what time it is?”

your hand reflexively wraps around his, and it’s almost like you’re kids again—shouei acting as your personal bodyguard as you allow him to pull you along through anything. he’s always been so good at protecting you. two decades later, and his promise is still in tact. shouei might be the most stable thing in your life, and that thought alone has tears springing up to your eyes. you continue on, gaze glued to your intertwined hands and how shouei holds yours as if it’s something precious to him, as if it’s worth the patience he’s always showing you.

the night air is crisp and fresh compared to the damp, alcohol-soaked air of the club, and it helps sober you up enough to realize you’re more than likely going to vomit tonight. wonderful.

shouei gets you buckled into the passenger seat of his car, ruby gaze scanning your body to make sure you’re fastened up to par with his impossible standards, fingers fiddling with the seatbelt.

you put your hand over his, and when his eyes flicker up to meet yours, the heaviness of them nearly knock the wind out of you. “shou-kun, i’m all buckled in. can we go home now?” your voice is barely above a whisper, and that only makes his brow furrow. he shuts the passenger door and makes his way over to the driver’s side nonetheless, and begins the drive back to his apartment.

home for him is different from home for you. home for him is a humble two-bedroom apartment located downtown, one room dedicated to workout equipment to keep him in shape during his off season without the hassle of a public gym, the other room is master bedroom that no one but him have really laid eyes on. and for you, home is shouei, and not the four-bedroom house you found on craig’s list filled with strangers.

which is why he knows to drive to his apartment with no questions asked. like hell he’s going to trust your housemates to take care of you.

“what were you doing there?” he asks after the silence between you two stretches on for too long.

you’re resting your forehead against the cool window glass to help ease the throbbing behind your eyes. “date blew me off, so i went to the nearest bar.”

he knew it. taut skin stretches over his knuckles as his grip on the steering wheel tightens. “yeah, well, they’re a fucking idiot for ditching you. and you’re an idiot for getting so drunk without anyone there with you.”

“‘m sorry.”

“you’re gonna be more sorry tomorrow when you wake up with a killer hangover.”

the rest of the car ride is quiet, save for the music you decide to flip on to drown out your self-loathing thoughts. shouei isn’t much of a music person, but he is thankful for gorillaz for keeping his mind too busy to think about what sort of person you were dressed up for. it must still be on your playlist. you’re the only person who really gets in his car, after all, save for his sisters whenever they need a ride from him. but even they don’t get radio privileges. that’s saved solely for you.

while 2d goes on singing about rhinestone eyes, you watch the way the street lights flicker over shouei’s face. his hair is down, a rare sight but a welcomed one, and the bags under his eyes are more prominent than usual, indicating he really did fly out of bed to come swooping you away like some knight in jeans and a turtleneck sweater. his jaw ticks, and you wish you could kiss it.

“you okay?” he asks you, pulls you out of your drunken-trance.

you hum a response, and press your forehead against the glass once again, eyes closed but the image of kissing shouei’s jaw still plays behind them.

the car comes to a gentle stop before you can doze off, and shouei is climbing out of the driver seat to open your door and help you out. he’s careful to tap on the glass to rouse you, and when you slowly blink your eyes open to look up at him, his lungs seizes in his chest and his feet are glued to the cement. though you’re very obviously drunk, unbridled trust and love is written openly all over your face in a way that makes the world feels a little wobbly. your eyes are still on him as you unbuckle yourself, and shouei thinks his heart might just explode in between his ribs, the ribbons of it hanging off of the latter on bones and fluttering down to his intestines. he moves out of your way to allow you to open the car door, but he’s quick to grab your elbow to stabilize you as you sway a bit.

“i’ve got you,” he murmurs, and your smile is nothing short of a sun. he fears he may go blind if he isn’t careful. he isn’t sure if he cares, since he’s always wanted your smile to be the last thing he sees anyway.

when walking proves to be a difficult task for you, shouei scoops you up bridal style, and it’s unfair how natural it all feels to him. taking care of you, muttering words of encouragement, feeling you tucked under his chin and curled into his chest, all while you’re dressed to meet someone else. someone that was probably easier to digest than shouei, less egotistical, home often enough to establish a day-to-day routine with you. someone that you don’t have to warn your other friends about preemptively.

shouei has never worried about what other people think of him, can’t find it in himself to feel insecure. a king doesn’t bother himself with a peasant’s thoughts. he does, however, worry about where he fits in your life now that he’s a pro athlete and you’re still trying to find your footing. no one can ever replace him, he knows this. there will always be a spot for shouei in your life. how big that spot is, is what sometimes keeps him up at night, especially now that’s he’s recently come to terms with the fact that he’s in love with you. has been for the last two decades.

light snores leave your mouth as shouei places you down on his bed, trash can set up for when you inevitably vomit, and he’s just beginning to take off your shoes when you begin to stir again.

“go back to sleep,” he gently commands. “you’re going to feel awful in the morning.”

you pout at him. “room’s spinning.”

“i know. that’s why there’s a garbage can next to you.”

“oh thank god—”

and before he can get your other shoe off, you’re leaning over the side of the bed and emptying the contents of your stomach into the bin. shouei moves to rub your back soothingly, nose scrunched as you retch. once your head pops back up, shouei rearranges the pillows and blankets so you’re tucked in snugly, careful to not move you around too much and risk upsetting your stomach again. he stops when he feels your hand resting on his cheek.

“you’re a good man, shou-kun,” you state with a dopey smile on your face. “always taking care of me. even when i probably don’t deserve it.”

“don’t start that self-pity bullshit now,” he replies gruffly, but his eyes a soft pools of ruby. he’s always been soft for you. always will be. “i made you a promise, didn’t i?”

“yeah, when we were seven.”

“and that hasn’t changed. i’m still here.”

your thumb moves from the apple of his cheek to his bottom lip, languidly tracing it, tugging it down to see the teeth that he takes such good care of despite how much his career threatens to knock them out, rows of ivory encased by pretty pink gums. and shouei allows you to, ruby gaze boring into you, trying to gauge where the boundary line is and how solid it is. he would never, ever take advantage of anyone in this state, especially not you, but he does wonder if alcohol has made you uncover some dormant feelings. if you’re thinking about kissing him the very same way he’s been thinking about kissing you ever since your second year of middle school when he watched you punch a boy for calling him a jerk. only shouei would find such an act of violence romantic. everything between you two started with a punch, after all.

“‘s not fair,” you pout, thumb resting on the corner of his mouth.

“what isn’t?”

you purse your lips, as if trying to find the right words. “you’re so pretty. when did you get so pretty?”

he rolls his eyes. “i look the same as i always have. just taller.”

“mm, no.” your other hand comes up to brush his hair back, and his lungs swell until they’re pressing against his ribs. “you’re pretty, shou-kun. and kind. and sweet. and stubborn. and ambitious. and hardworking. so why?”

“why what?”

“why aren’t you with anyone?” when your eyes fall back down to his, shouei feels his chest crack, his heart flayed open and put on display, a pathetic art piece dedicated to you. the world tilts on its axis, and shouei barou has never felt more exposed than he does now under your drunken gaze and steady hands.

he finds his voice long enough to reply, “i don’t care about dating. too much drama and no one knows what they want.”

“do you know what you want?”

you. the answer is on the tip of his tongue, burning a hole through the muscle and burying itself in his enamel, where it will get swallowed down along with the lump in his throat. this isn’t the time to go around confessing, not when you’re drunk and still wearing clothes you put on for someone else. gently, he takes your hands off of him and lowers your body down against the mattress again, and he thinks he feels his heart crumble a little.

“i want you to get some sleep. it’s late as hell, and you have a hangover to prep for.”

and before you can protest, he makes a break for the kitchen to get a glass of water and some tylenol for you. it’s easier to breathe out here where he doesn’t have to choke on long overdue confessions and your perfume. where you aren’t looking at him as if you know just how stupidly in love he is with you. god, he really is pathetic for you. his skin is still warm from where your hands were and all he can think about is how much he wishes you were sober so he wouldn’t feel so guilty for wanting to kiss you.

“the glass is overflowing.”

he nearly jumps out of his own skin at your voice, and whips around to see you standing barefoot in his kitchen, one of his shirts draped over your frame, a pair of his boxers low on your hips. it’s unfair how much better you look in his clothes than your own. hell, you look better than he does in his own clothes. un-fucking-fair.

“what the hell are you doing out of bed?” he barks as he turns the sink off, flustered and unsure of himself. a deadly combination for a man of his caliber. “and when did you change?”

“you were taking forever,” you whine, and tug at the hem of his shirt to pull it further down your thighs. “got bored waiting for you.”

with the water and tylenol in hand, he ushers you back to his room and gets you tucked back in. “you should be asleep. c’mon, it’s late. take these when you wake up and puke in the bin if you need to. i’ll take care of it in the morning.”

but before he can leave his room to sleep on the couch, you’re fisting the back of his shirt and rooting him in place. he waits, as he always does. as he always will. for you.

“sleep with me?” you ask, and chuckle when you feel his breath hitch. “not like that, pervert. like we used to. when we were kids.”

“i’m not a pervert,” he grumbles as he turns around to face you. you’re looking up at him, earnest and hopeful, and he feels his resolve crumble. “let me change into pajamas first.” the smile you flash at him is enough to reaffirm his belief that everything ounce of his yearning and pining is worth it if you just keep smiling at him like that.

once he emerges from the bathroom in his pajamas, you open your arms up to him, bottom lip jutting out in a way that makes him want to bite it. he crawls in bed next to you instead, teeth tucked firmly behind his lips, and you wrap yourself around him like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

cuddling with you now is different than when you were kids. for one, he wasn’t pathetically in love with you back then. and two, there’s an undertone to it, a slow lulling of temptation, an unspoken promise that things could always be like this if maybe you returned his feelings. the payoff might be worth the risk. but could he really put the friendship he’s cherished for two decades on the line for his own selfish desires of having you as a partner? it’s the same haunting thought-loop he’s been in for the better part of nine years, and though he isn’t one to dwell or drown in self-pity, you’re the one thing he doesn’t want to risk. and so he lays in bed next to you, your body curled around his, wondering if spending the rest of his life pining for you is a privilege or a curse.

“why didn’t you kiss me?”

your question breaks the silence between you two into a million tiny slivers, each one stabbing at his heart and lungs, lacerating them to bloody ribbons. he doesn’t dare turn to face you, doesn’t want to see what sort of expression is on your face. he’s never been a coward before, but he’s also never been in love before, and they don’t seem to be mutually exclusive things.

finally, he finds his voice buried somewhere under the gore of sliced up potential. “you’re drunk.” it’s barely above a whisper. it’s all he’ll allow himself for now.

“so? i saw that look in your eyes, shouei barou.” he feels you shift behind him, feels your breath fan across the shell of his ear as you tuck your chin next to his shoulder. “you wanted to kiss me.”

it’s a hefty accusation, one heavy with the painful truth that he’s been wanting to kiss you for far longer than just tonight. he turns his head so he can look at you out of the corner of his eye, and is shocked to see you pouting as if you’re disappointed. disappointed that he didn’t kiss you. disappointed he took the chivalrous route rather than the selfish one. two decades later, and you still surprise him.

“so what if i did?” he asks, turning his face back so his gaze is to his plain wall and not the pout on your face. there’s no use in denying it. you’re going to find out one way or another. “i’m not kissing you while you’re drunk. ‘s not right. you deserve better than that.”

“will you kiss me when i’m sober tomorrow?” the hope in your voice is thick, causes him to feel giddy in a way that’s borderline irritating.

“if you want me to, then sure.”

you hum and bury your face in between his shoulder blades, and he melts a little in your arms. “i’ll want you to.”

“how are you so confident?” he huffs and adjusts his body so it’s easier for you to wrap yourself around him. you respond by throwing a leg over his waist, and everything is alright in the world for a moment. “you’re drunk out of your mind.”

you scoot closer to him. “because i’ve been wanting you to kiss me for a long time.”

the confession has his heart seizing in his chest. and though a part of him is screaming at him to not take your intoxicated words seriously, a caged sort of optimism roots itself in his bones, blooms between his joints. he turns his body so your head is tucked under this chest, leg still wrapped around his waist, and his nose is buried in your hair, the smell of your shampoo infiltrating his lungs until it’s all he can think about. he’s okay with this, he thinks. he wants this, in a very selfish way. it might be worth the risk.

“we’ll see how you feel when you’re hungover as all hell,” is what he says instead.

“i think it’ll make me want you to kiss me more,” you giggle against his chest. “my knight in shining armor. always making everything better.”

his fingers find your hair as they often do when you’re snuggled into each other like this, chest to chest, heartbeat to heartbeat. your knight in shining armor. it’s cheesy in a way that’s almost endearing, most certainly because it’s you and almost everything about you is endearing to him. it’s a role he’s proudly filled for the last two decades, and will continue to fill as long as you need him to.

“goodnight, shou-kun,” you murmur. “thank you for taking care of me tonight.”

he hums his reply and pulls you a little closer to him.

because he’ll always keep his promise. always.

[haleyboook]

Christmas cheer

When a relationship not known by Chris’ family is suddenly front and center when he insists on her coming to his family Christmas festivities. Just how insane can she expect it to be? And how bad will it effect her relationship?

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

“I just need my bathing suit and I’ll have all my clothes ready to be packed.” I tell him as I hold the laundry basket in my arms

He nods as he remains half out of it staring at me

“Chris?”

“Mmhm?”

“What’s on your mind?”

He sighs as he sits up saying “I’m not liking the idea of not being together on Christmas. The best holiday.”

I drop the laundry basket and walk over to him, I sit on the armrest of the chair as he pulls me towards him

His lips press to my shoulder as he says “The Bahamas are so lame right now. Change your flight. Let’s go there for New Years. Boston is so beautiful right now.”

Sighing I say “My whole family is there, and they would love to meet you. You know that. I talk about you all the time and my mom already loves you. Why don’t you come with me? And then we can celebrate New Years with your family?”

Slowly he considers giving in as my eyes practically melt him and my lips press to his as I smile widely

The corners of his lips curve upwards in response to me and he groans saying “My mom and sisters would kill me if I missed Christmas. My nieces and nephews are expecting me there.”

Nodding I sigh saying “So basically we can’t spend the holiday together. And we’re back to square one.”

He smiles to me and says “Yeah. I guess so.”

But that look on his face for a split second was awfully mischievous and I know he’s up to something.

He pushes my hair out of my face and kisses my collarbones as we draw closer to each other

“It’s snowing in Boston. Have you ever been to Boston when it’s snowing?”

“No. I haven’t.”

“Winter is my second favorite season there. A white Christmas is my favorite. And my family goes all nine yards.”

“Oh really? What do they do?”

He smiles and says “Well my whole big family pile into my childhood home and we spend the whole week together. My mom has us baking and cooking all week and we go see a Christmas play on Christmas Eve. And we have a Christmas Eve party after. And Christmas Day is the best, seeing my niece and nephews excitement over the gifts is the best. My mom makes us spiked hot chocolate and we have this massive dinner. It’s literally heaven.”

The pause sits for awhile as I think on my family, my parents have my sisters and all their friends in the Bahamas with them currently

I paid for the vacation, called it an early Christmas gift.

But… Boston doesn’t sound too bad

“If.. I can change my flight, I’m in.”

His eyes widen suddenly as he looks to me surprised saying “You’re serious?”

I scoff saying “Was that not a real offer?”

“No! No it was real. I’ll.. I’ll call my mom telling her you’re coming along.”

I nod and stare at the laundry across the room. I sigh saying “im not going to need that bathing suit am I?”

He laughs whole heartedly and I grumble saying “You owe me time at the beach. I need ocean and sun time.”

“Promise. New Years with your family in the Bahamas. We can stay a week longer than your family. Just us.”

I sigh into him as I grow relaxed, nodding saying “That sounds perfect. Just what I need after the shit-show movie I just wrapped.”

“He was a terrible director.”

“He made me pull my hair out. I need to strictly rely on Greta and Sofia for work. They’re the only tolerable directors I’ve worked with. Besides obviously the marvel projects.”

He nods saying “Making everyone work on a holiday is crazy.”

“Well you saw how well that worked out for him.”

Chris laughs saying “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a movie crew so happy that an actress went full diva for them.”

“They all deserved to be with their families, regardless if they celebrated the holiday or not.”

“Trust me, I know they were thankful.”

I sigh saying “Yeah…. Now tell me what I need to pack for Boston.”

“You need to start with at least 3-4 coats or jackets.”

I make a winced face and say “You’re kidding.”

“That doesn’t include winter coats. Do you have a winter—”

He pauses as he looks to me as I produce a pinched expression and shrug saying “I don’t own anything like that.”

“We’ve got a lot of work to do then.”

The flight was simple enough, I overpacked and had to check my bag. Chris didn’t have to, he had a small enough bag for it to be a carry on

I realized how big of a mistake it was to check my bag the minute I started looking through the carousels for my suitcase

Only to my surprise it never came around. Chris felt terrible as the flight attendant informed me that my suitcase, along with half the passengers were left to fly out on the next plane

I blinked in response to her, feeling anger rise within me “what do you mean you left my suitcase?”

“It will be delivered here in a few hours. We can ship it to the address you—”

“I just want my things! Why couldn’t you fit my suitcase on the plane?”

“There are certain rules and regulations we need to follow, the flight was sold out and we couldn’t exceed a certain weight—”

“Everything I need is in my suitcase! It’s 25 degrees out! I need my things!”

Chris wraps his arm around me attempting to calm me down saying “Honey… honey it’s alright. We’ll figure it out.”

I scoff saying “Don’t give me that. You carried your suitcase on. You have everything you could possibly need. I have nothing. My scripts were in there. I needed to run those lines.”

He sighs and attempts to comfort me as he looks to the lady saying “How soon will it be shipped?”

“The second it’s in our custody. You should get it by tomorrow.”

“That’s not so bad, you’ll have all your things by tomorrow. In the meantime we’ll figure something out.”

The Bahamas are sounding a lot better now

“Yeah. Okay..” I say unconvinced and on edge

Chris had called his mom a day ago telling her he was bringing his girlfriend and she was surprised to find out so late in advance

Pretty frustrated this is one of the few times she’d even heard about me.

But before I wasn’t even his girlfriend, we were just going on a few dates. He thought it was easier to just say that to his mother instead

We were both so busy, there was no time to share with anyone else but each other

And we used every single minute we could find with the other

He’d fly to me and leave in the morning. Or I’d fly in at 9am and have to leave at 12am.

He knows he should have mentioned his girlfriend earlier, to not only his mother but probably his sisters and practically anyone else in his family

I ask as he drives our rental car towards the house “Scott’s there already?”

He’s the one person I really knew from his family, considering how often he visited

“Yeah. He just got to the house this morning.”

I swallow hard saying “And your mom, Lisa knows I’m coming to Christmas?”

“She knows, relax y/n. There’s nothing to worry about. My mom will love you and we’ll have a great time.”

“So your older is Carly, and Shanna is your younger sister. Then there’s your dad and he’s a dentist. And then there’s miles and—”

“Clearly you’ve done your research.”

I sigh as I run my hands down my face saying “I wouldn’t even need to. You love your family, you talk about them constantly. I can’t believe this is the first time I’ve met them. I could probably recite their birthdays at this point… oh my god. Don’t let me say that to them. I’m losing my mind. I’m so nervous, were you this nervous to meet my mom?”

He laughs as I scramble my sentences together quickly, talking way too fast

“Your mother gave me no warning, I met her in my boxers while I was getting the paper. I had no time to be nervous.”

I smile and look to him saying “She thought you were handsome immediately.”

He shakes his head saying with a chuckle “No, her first comment was asking why I was so pale.”

Laughing I shake my head saying “I can’t believe she said that.”

“She wasn’t wrong.”

He livens up my mood just switching the topic, I feel better already. He squeezes my hand saying “Just don’t overthink this and you’ll do great. Promise.”

And that’s when we turned down a street where I saw a suburban neighborhood, it was different than I was used to

There was an inflatable Santa on the large patch of grass in the front yard and lights thrown up onto the gutters, brightly colored

The driveway was full and it made me uneasy. Chris put the car in park and once he turned off the engine he looked to me “you ready to go in?”

“The gifts were in my suitcase, Chris. I have nothing for them—”

“You have your bright smile. That’s enough, we can go shopping in the morning or wait for your suitcase. All that matters is the gifts under the tree by Christmas.”

A sigh releases my lips as I look to the sprawl of inflatables across the front yard that I hadn’t noticed earlier

Some that are so clearly Boston suburbia that it’s odd to me

“Oh. That’s Jim. Moms had that inflatable for decades. It’s older than all the grandkids combined.”

“What is… it supposed to be?”

“It used to be an 8foot tall snowman, one of the first to be released. But it’s face wore off so is kids drew a new one on with sharpie and… yeah that was the result.”

Scott slowly sneaks around the car, and slams his palms into the glass of my car door

I scream as I jerk my head towards him and heave heavy breaths as my screaming stops

Chris laughs loudly and boisterous as I nearly kick the door open. It hitting Scott as I climb out, pushing his shoulder as his laugher only annoys me

“You’re an asshole!”

He and Chris just think my reaction is the funniest thing possible

“Did you hit your head when you jumped that high?”

He tumbles to the ground as he falls in the snow and practically cries with laughter

I huff in annoyance saying “Why would you do that?”

“He didn’t tell you?” Scott struggles to say as he gasps for air as his laughter slows

I look to Scott saying “We have a whole competition going, scaring each other. We do this basically every time everyone’s home.”

Chris smiles as he says “She has an out, it’s her first Christmas with us. She is free of the jump scares.”

“No way! She needs to experience the evans family Christmas in every way.”

Chris gives Scott a look and I walk away saying “I’m freezing. Can we please go inside.”

Scott nods saying “that sounds like a great idea.”

Chris nods as he lifts his suitcase through the snow and pulls his jacket off as he drapes it over my shoulders

I look to him thankfully as I tighten it around me. I slow to a stop as I wait for one of the two brothers to lead the way

Chris steps in front of me as he says “You okay?”

“Yeah. Just cold—” but I’m cut off by Scott running towards us and throwing a snowball into the back of Chris’ head

Scott laughs as I feel the corners of my smile turning upwards quickly as I laugh quietly as Chris huffs out a breath of annoyance

“oh… little brother you so shouldn’t have started this.”

“Chris.” I plead as his hand digs into the snow

“Just let me reach this little punk a lesson.”

And they’re already at it with each other. I stand there as Chris creates a snow ball throwing it towards his brother as Scott ducks out of the shot

My sisters and I were never like this. They were 12-15 years older than me. By the time I was 5-6 years old they were out of the house or in college. I was basically an only child with occasional visits from my sisters

But Bree moved to England for a job and Elise lives across the US. Hawaii, with her husband. Her husband is stationed in the navy there

I wince as both Scott and Chris tumble roughly into the snow but I smile because it’s hilarious

“They do this often.”

My shoulders jump at the voice, I thought I was alone out here

I look to the woman and say “And I’m sure it’s entertaining every time.” My smile shines towards her and she breathes out a laugh saying “Yeah. Most of the time. I’m Shanna. You must be y/n, his girlfriend. Right?”

Nodding I say “yes, that is me. I’m sorry to intrude on your Christmas, he insisted I have a Boston Christmas.”

“You don’t have family around here?”

I pause and say “They’re in the Bahamas for Christmas.”

“And you picked this over that?” She laughs as I shake my head saying “I couldn’t leave him. We try to spend any second we can together. I’m sorry, are you Carly or Shanna? Chris talks about his sisters so much but I can’t place your name.”

She smiles saying “Shanna. His younger sister.”

“Oh okay. Thank you.

She nods saying “How’d the two of you meet?”

“Work. Of course. There’s not really anywhere else I could’ve meet someone.”

“You’re an actor too?”

I nod and say “Yeah.”

“Are you cold? We could go in while they sort this whole thing out?”

I look towards Chris as he has Scott pinned down with knee pressed against his back.

Scott’s face doesn’t leave the patch of snow as Chris tells him to tap out

I look to their sister saying “Is this normal?”

Shanna smiles saying “Yes. When they’re around each other they get like this. They’re brothers that’s for sure haha.”

I bite at my lip saying “I really am freezing. We could go in.. I’m just anxious.”

“Why don’t you head in while I get these idiots into the house?”

She steps away before I can argue the offer

I swallow hard and walk towards the house, I so don’t want to go in alone

Scott is pulled up from the snow and pushes his brother as he looks to me as Chris brushes off the snow on his clothes

“Babe, you can head in. You look like you’re about to freeze.”

I nod to Chris and ask “Just walk in?”

“My ma doesn’t care, she has everyone just walk right in.”

I stare at the door as I push it open and enter the house. Shutting it behind me to keep all the warmth in the house

I’m first hit with voices and I slow to a stop as I attempt not to intrude

But then I quickly realize they’re talking about me

“No, this is really the first time he’s ever brought her up. He told me all about her a day ago and that she was coming for Christmas.”

“Shanna is laying into her for answers and to find out what kind of person she is. God I hope she’s not some arrogant brat.”

My eyes widen suddenly as my arms drop to my sides quickly

“God knows Chris has poor taste in women. Should be interesting to meet her. From what he’s told me she’s a bit high maintenance.”

My eyebrows shoot up at that and I huff in annoyance

“I can only hope she isn’t some privileged obnoxious child. Chris didn’t give me much, only that they didn’t want to be apart. It sounds like they’re pretty serious.”

“How close could they be if he kept her hidden from us? She’s got to be the reason he skipped literally everything for thanksgiving but the dinner. He literally rolled in here at 3 and left by 8.”

The pause in conversation leaves me frozen in the entry way as I feel like I just stepped into something I shouldn’t hear

“You think he’s fallen for a girl who will keep him from us for holidays? That’s often what happens when a son marries someone.”

“You think they’re getting married?! He hardly knows the girl. God bless her but Chris could never commit to something like that. You know the cycle, give it a few more months and they’ll have moved on.”

“He said she can be difficult, especially under pressure. Like I said super high maintenance.”

“Probably means controlling.”

Excuse me?

“If this girl is wrong for him I’ll have a conversation with him. He’s my son, he’ll listen to me. She’ll be just another ex girlfriend if we don’t like her—”

I can feel the lump in my throat growing as I reach for the door handle but it opens and I take a step back as Chris steps in

He looks to me confused as I remain hovering by the door like I wanted to bolt, his arms find their way around my sides saying “you alright?”

My shoulders tighten and wind up as my whole body tightens up, I shrug in response as I slip from his grasp

Scott shouts “Ma! Chris and y/n are here!”

Chris huffs in response to his brother

The group of people file towards us as my hands pull at the zipper sides of Chris’ jacket that’s tightly wrapped around my body

Tightening it around me

“Chris!”

He bounds for his mother, and you could tell how much he loves him mom. That’s a strong hug around her. Clearly he missed her

Maybe she was right, I didn’t think I was keeping him from his family

Suddenly I feel super out of place as their whole family hugs and speaks to each other

Slowly I slip into the background of the family as my back presses to the door, everything growing overwhelming

“My sweet boy. I’m so happy you’re here.”

Controlling.

That word wanders around my head as I feel the weight of it

High maintenance

How could she have all these opinions of me before even meeting me?

Scott pulls away from his older sister saying “y/n, meet my sister Carly… y/n?” He looks behind him not finding me

I’m practically melting through the door as Chris suddenly pulls away from the conversation him and his mother are having

“honey?”

The people in front of me, serving as I wall suddenly break into two groups and the whole Evans family turns towards me

Chris looks to me with a widening smile and walks forward, grabbing my hand and saying “Everyone, this is my girlfriend y/n. I’ll introduce you to each person in a minute. Firstly, this is my ma.”

The woman looks to me and I feel the nauseous feeling grow as I stare at her nervously

She takes a step towards me as Chris’ warm hand leaves my back

She smiles and says “I’m Lisa. It’s so great to meet you.”

My grin slips as she pulls me into a hug and I grow frustrated as she says “Chris just adores you.”

I swear there’s sarcasm coming off her words

“Love, mom. I love her.” Chris confirms as his smile falls from his lips and I’m released. I’m basically introduced around and the minute I’m free from introductions I find Scott

He’s with Carly but I grab his wrist tightly and give him the crazy eyes. He excused himself from his sister as I pull him out front

“I have to get out of here.”

“What? What are you talking about?”

My hands pull down my face as I frown and say “Your mother doesn’t know I heard what she and Carly were saying in the kitchen.”

“What we’re they saying in the kitchen?” He leans forward, practically begging for the information

“Am I controlling?”

“What? Why would you…. Oh.” He pauses as he looks inside the glass panels for a second saying “she doesn’t know you. Don’t take what she said to heart. She probably read a bad article about you.”

I shake my head as I sit down on the front steps and he follows shortly after “They lost my suitcase. I have nothing. I’m feeling insecure enough already. And I know Chris is loving every minute of this but I’m just… overwhelmed and annoyed.”

Scott nods as he rubs my shoulder, and I continue saying “He never told his mom or anyone about me. They don’t know me. Would he have ever told them about me? He basically worships your mom. But I’m not important enough to be a topic?”

“I’m sure he has good reason, bee.”

I huff in response and cover my face saying “This is going to be a long week. You have to promise me you won’t leave my side. If Chris isn’t glued to my side you have to be. Please.”

His eyes widen and he says “That’s a big job.”

I narrow my eyes to him saying “Scott.”

He smiles lightly saying “Fine deal.”

“This is going to be a long week.” We both say in sync

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Oh hi! It’s been awhile, hasn’t it! I wanted to create a Christmas story, this is only going to be a few parts, I think (don’t know yet!)

I really enjoyed writing this part, I’m currently working on a part two! I hope you all enjoy this!

Next part>>

Make sure you comment to be added to the taglist!

More will be published soon! Promise!

Make sure you interact with my stories please!

[brainddeadd]

The One Where Jack Meddles

Trevor has loved Yn Hughes since the day he met her.

Yn Hughes has loved Trevor Zegras since the day she met him.

Jack Hughes is sick of his sister and best friend pinning for each other and decides to do something about it.

Quinn Hughes thinks that if anyone is going to date his little sister, Trevor's the best option.

Luke Hughes just wants Yn to cook him some damn food.

The warm sun cast a golden hue over the Hughes family lake house as laughter and music spilled out from the large deck. Friends mingled, drinks flowed, and the scent of grilled burgers wafted through the air. Yn Hughes stood at the edge of the lake, her toes dipped in the cool water as she watched Trevor Zegras playfully toss a football with Jack. She couldn’t help but smile; he looked effortlessly charming, his hair tousled and eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Hey, Yn!” Jack called, glancing her way. “Are you going to join us or just stand there all day?”

“I might just watch you fail to catch that pass,” she shot back, her playful tone masking the butterflies in her stomach.

Trevor turned, flashing a grin that made her heart skip a beat. “I think I’ll catch it just fine. Want to make a bet?”

She bit her lip, feeling the heat rise to her cheeks. “What’s the wager?”

“If I catch it, you owe me dinner. If I drop it, I’ll owe you a night out,” he replied, confidence radiating off him.

Yn felt her pulse quicken at the thought of spending more time with Trevor. “Deal!”

As the sun set and the sky turned into a canvas of pinks and oranges, the party transitioned to the deck. Laughter echoed as everyone gathered around a fire pit, drinks in hand. Luke leaned against the railing, glancing between Yn and Trevor, a knowing smile playing on his lips.

“Hey, Yn, can you whip up something delicious for us later?” he called out, clearly fishing for her attention.

“Only if you help me clean up!” she shot back, playfully rolling her eyes.

Jack, watching the banter unfold, took a deep breath. He had watched Trevor and Yn dance around each other for far too long. Tonight, he would do something about it. He stood up, a spark of determination in his eyes, fueled by a few drinks.

“Alright, everyone!” Jack announced, his voice loud enough to draw attention. “I think it’s time we talk about something serious.”

“What’s up, Jack?” Quinn asked, raising an eyebrow.

Jack glanced at Trevor, who looked both curious and nervous. “Trevor here has been hiding a big secret!”

Trevor’s eyes widened. “What? No, I haven’t—”

“Yeah, you have!” Jack pressed on, ignoring Trevor’s protests. “Trevor loves Yn!”

The words hung in the air, a sudden silence enveloping the group. Yn’s heart raced, her breath caught in her throat as she turned to Trevor. His face was a mixture of shock and embarrassment, turning crimson under the dim light of the fire.

The silence broke into a chorus of teasing laughter and playful jeers. “Wow, Trevor! You really need to be more vocal about your feelings!” one friend shouted.

“Dude, you can’t just drop that bombshell!” another added, grinning at Trevor’s discomfort.

Yn felt a thrill of hope wash over her. Did Jack really just say that? Trevor’s gaze met hers, wide-eyed, as if he was trying to gauge her reaction.

“Um, I—” Trevor stammered, running a hand through his hair, clearly flustered. “I mean… it’s not that simple.”

Yn couldn’t help but smile, her heart fluttering. “What if it is?” she challenged gently, stepping closer to him.

Trevor opened his mouth to respond, but Jack cut in again, waving his hands dramatically. “Look, can we just agree that you two should stop pretending? Everyone here sees it!”

Quinn nodded, smirking. “Yeah, I think Trevor’s a great option for Yn. Just look at them!”

Luke leaned over, a mischievous grin on his face. “As long as Yn promises to cook me dinner, I’m all for it.”

“Ugh, you’re impossible,” Yn laughed, but her gaze never left Trevor’s.

Trevor finally found his voice, his eyes softening as he looked at her. “I’ve liked you since the day I met you, Yn. I just didn’t know how to say it.”

A wave of relief and joy washed over her, and she took a step closer. “Then maybe you should try saying it now?”

Trevor’s nervousness faded as a smile broke out on his face. “I like you, Yn. Like, really like you.”

The cheers erupted around them again, but this time, Yn didn’t care about the audience. She took another step closer, feeling emboldened by Trevor’s confession. “I like you too, Trevor. More than I can say.”

The laughter and teasing faded into the background as Trevor took her hand, his grip warm and reassuring. “So… dinner? Just the two of us?”

“Definitely,” she replied, her heart soaring.

Jack leaned back with a satisfied smirk, raising his drink. “And to think I did all of this for some good food!”

“Yeah, yeah, you’re a genius, Jack,” Luke teased, rolling his eyes.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, Yn and Trevor shared a lingering gaze, finally free from the tension that had held them apart for too long. The night was just beginning, and for the first time, everything felt perfectly right.

[starzshopoflove]

But did he ever make you cry? (Johnny "Soap" Mactavish x Reader)

Notes: fem reader! sfw, literally just me projecting onto reader, best friend Soap! Pining!! Hurt/comfort! I'll make this a series if you guys like it (WC: 1.7)

(Pov first person in italics) 

God when is this gonna be fucking over 

I’ve been here for what? 4 hours? He just keeps going on and on and on about his ex and “How crazy she was”. When was the last time he asked me something, feels like I'm sitting here for decoration. If he wanted to talk about another girl he could have found a therapist or something, Jesus.

This might be up there in the top 10 worst dates, maybe after that freak who got up in my ear after coffee asking if I wanted to go back to his place. Am I cursed?? What is it about me and attracting these absolute losers? 

Its been a while since you’ve gone out a bit rough around the edges since your last breakup. Sure the relationship wasn't that serious but it still bothered you that he left because “You weren't putting out enough” after he said it was fine that you wanted to take things slow. You got your hopes up a bit too high after this guy (absolute fuckin DWEEB) in your lecture asked if you could grab dinner together. You just wasted a solid 2 hours picking out a cute little skirt and doing your makeup checking twice to make sure you looked nothing less then too the 9’s. 

And then he shows up in a baggy pair of khaki joggers and hoodie, y'know after he said “Get pretty I’ll take you somewhere nice”. Oh but of course he just “accidentally” forgot the reservations but that's fine he knows a great place nearby. The great place being a diner in the middle of a highway rest with fluorescent lights that flickered too often with a weird smell in the air. 

His table manners were practically non-existent smacking his lips when he chewed, sucking on his fingers and getting ketchup on his face. That sight alone made you put down your fork that barely poked at your clearly reheat mush they insisted was a pasta dish. Oh and he wouldn’t stop fucking talking, honestly you were starting to question how it was possible he hadnt choked on his food when he spoke. 

You need to get out now. Any Longer at this table and your dignity might start slipping away. He yapped on about whatever as you tuned it out, nodding your head like you cared slowly tucking your phone back into your purse and pulling it onto your shoulder. You were already drawing up a game plan in your head, bathroom, call your roommate, tell her to come get you and block his number. Perfectly full proof. 

“You mind if I slip out for a moment? I gotta head to the bathroom, won't be long promise.” 

You slapped on a fake smile as he shot you a nod with a sleezy grin, all your senses pulled you back into reality as you felt disgust pool in your gut at the sight of him noticing more off putting things about the longer you looked. You platforms clicked as you pattered off into the one stall bathroom, you stood up straight inside not wanting to lean on the wall when you noticed the dried piss stains and mysterious gunk smeared on it.

It was suffocating, every second of it. The smell, The lights, the noise and of course him. You felt insulted, was this really the kind of place you deserved to be taken out too? You don't get to be wined and dined every now and then do you? Even after you spend days in class or at work and heaving your bones to the campus library to study for the hundreds of tests your professors insist on giving you. 

You let out a sigh of contempt digging through your purse shoving the ugly rearing head of disappointment back as you pulled out your phone. Scrolling through the contact list to find your roommates number chewing on your thumbnail as you brought your phone up to your ear letting it ring, feeling your heart pound further the longer the phone rang. You but down hard once you heard the automated message trill, a heavy sigh leaving your chest as you slumped against the wall of your stall running a hand through your hair. 

What the fuck am I gonna do, I can’t stay here any longer or i’m not gonna be held responsible for whatever happens to him if he brings up how much he loves blondes again.

You swallowed your pride unlocking your phone again scrolling up your contact list hoping he wouldn’t be too mad at having to save you from this god awful excuse for a date as you eyes settled on his number 

“Johnny 🧼” 

You thumb pressed down on the number bringing your shakey hand back up to your ear, the pressure that was just annoying you got heavier on your chest the longer you thought about having to stay here with him. You might burst into tears if you had to stay another hour and listen to this loser describe how much he likes girls that are the exact opposite of you basically holding you hostage to listen on this “date” 

The ringing stopped when a sigh on the other end of the line broke the silence 

“Ello?” 

You felt the pressure on your chest bubble and pop once you heard his voice, your own cracking a little as you spoke up. Yeah it was embarrassing to cry over the phone but it would be more embarrassing to sit there and finish the date with red eyes. 

“Johnny,, please tell me your not busy right now” 

“Can’t be busy when yer asleep” 

Your voice was shaky which chilled his nerves with worry, you don’t call him at night unless it was an emergency and with the way you sounded all he could do was think the worst 

“What’s wrong bonnie”

It was more of a hushed gentle voice than any annoyance you anticipated, he couldn’t see it but you were already bleary eyed and pouting over the line. 

You sat down closing the toilet lid as another shakey sigh let you while the seat creaked under you. You felt you words choke up in your throat pressing heavy on your sternum. You wanted to explain yourself, tell him how horrible your date went, how you felt stupid for going out with him, and how sorry you are for bothering him at night knowing he just got back from a mission only a few days ago.

“Talk to me bonnie, can’t help if you dinnae tell me” 

“Can you come get me, ‘m sorry” 

Barely a whisper over the phone, Johnny was already imagining the worst when you asked him that. You could hear him shuffling around the room already pressing his phone between his shoulder and ear. In his head you were already kidnapped locked away in some cellar ready to be shipped away, when you were just sniffling and tearing up in a shitty diner bathroom. 

“You ok? nbody hurtin you?” 

You could hear him tugging his heavy boots on, finally letting out a breath you were suffocating to hold knowing you’d finally get out of here 

“No ‘m just not having a good time please, i’ll tell you when your here.” 

Johnny looked down hearing his phone ping with the location hushing your sniffling through the line as he opened up the map shutting his front door and quickly sliding into his pick up. 

__________________________________

The wait felt like forever, it wasn’t of course you watched the clock religiously. 8 minutes, Johnny sped across town in 8 minutes for you, probably breaking a few laws he’d wave away once he got here. 

He walked into the diner seeing it empty, your date no where to be seen while he took in the atmosphere. It was disgusting, and all he could think about was how you got here and why you would ever be here heavily sighing as he paced over knocking on the bathroom door leaning slightly against the door as he waited for your response or even just a sound. 

“Steamin Jesus,, lovie you in here?” 

He could hear shuffling on the other side as you opened the door up looking up at him with a pouted face and flushed face trying to hold back any noise or tears not wanting to cry in front of him. His hand slowly went to the small of your back gently rubbing and guiding you away from the loo. 

“What you doin out ‘ere alone bunny?” 

His voice was low as he mumbled down to you softly, face screwed and eyebrows furrowed while he peered down at you spinning your head around the small dinner seeing your abandoned table and spotting a napkin with writing on it. 

You moved over to the table reading the napkins silently 

“Tif called, had a good time with you, sorry this didn’t work out!”

He left. He asked you out and left you abandoned in the middle of a dinner after trying to feed you shitty food. He asked you out and thought it was fine to treat you like this. This was the straw that broke your back crumpling the napkin under your hand as you pressed your palms on the table hanging your head, you’ve already embarrassed yourself enough what’s the worst some crying can do. 

Johnny watching you crumble felt like a punch to his gut knocking all the air out of his lungs, He moves your hand off the napkin reading it and turning his head to you. Your hands already found your face hiding your shame as you stifled your sobs and swallowed thickly at the fat tears pouring down your face. He could be angry later when he finally got his hands on who ever hurt you 

He pulled your hands off your face, wrapping you in his arms one hand on the small of your back, another petting at your hair, hushing you softly as you slid your hands up to cling at his shirt burying your face into his chest shaking and heaving as you tried not to be loud. He petted at your hair, rocking you gently holding you close tucking your head under his chin as he slowly turned back to sit down in the booth tugging you down to his lap letting you curl up in on him again letting you cry to him as he coo’d to you 

“Shh poor darling girl, talk to me bonnie, breath ts ok ‘m here for ye” 

[traveler-at-heart]

Painting

Request by @deadlynightshade418 - hope you like it!! 

Summary: Convincing Natasha to paint with you

Natasha Romanoff x Pregnant!Reader

Blue, green, yellow.

How lovely yellow is. It stands for the sun.

And that, as Van Gogh said so accurately, was what you were painting in what would soon be the baby’s room.

“Here comes the sun, it’s alright” you were humming softly, as you dipped the brush in the paint.

It was a warm summer day, and you were wearing denim shorts and a tank top, still adjusting to the life growing inside of you.

Soft steps informed you of your wife’s arrival.

Natasha hadn’t been to a mission since you found out you were expecting. As a matter of fact, you had to stop her from delivering her immediate resignation.

The redhead was always by your side and insisted on calling the doctor if you so much as sighed a bit too loudly.

“Detka?”

“In here” you called for her to join you in the baby’s room.

“Would you like some pasta for dinner?”

“Would love to” you leaned forward to kiss her but she was frowning. “What?”

“Isn’t the paint dangerous for the baby?”

“Good thing I’m not eating it, then” you rolled your eyes.

“I’m serious”

“So am I. I promise you it’s fine. Plus, I’m just painting some clouds. Not the whole wall. See?”

“I guess” she looked confused when you offered her a paintbrush.

“If you do the flowers while I do the clouds and the sun, we’ll finish faster”

“I’ll just mess it up” she protested but took the brush the same.

“I’ll guide you”

You painted the outlines of the flowers and gently instructed her on what colors to mix.

“Here” you smeared some purple on her arm.

“Hey!”

“If you don’t get dirty, you ain’t doing it right, baby” you winked at her.

“Yeah, that’s how we made this one right there” she tilted her head towards your belly and you gasped.

“Rude”

You felt some paint on your upper arm and heard Natasha giggling.

“What happened to paint being dangerous for me and the baby?”

“Figured it’s my child, she’s a tough one”

“That she is”

You continued your work, stealing glances and smiling at each other. Pretty soon, you were both covered in paint.

The light filtered through the window and landed on Natasha’s features. You wished you could paint her with that soft glow.

Perhaps another time, you decided when your stomach growled.

“Are you hungry? Tired? Sit down, you’ve been on your feet for too long”

“I’m alright, love”

“I’ll start dinner”

“Not until you paint something on my back”

“What?”

“Just do it, please? Here” you drew a heart on her cheek and pecked her lips. “And we’ll have dinner as living paintings���

“Fine” she conceded, going around you and lifting the brush. It tingled your skin. “No peaking” she warned.

“Better not be something dirty”

“I’m drawing your boobs by memory”

“Nat!”

“I’m kidding! Ok, all done”

“Such a child” you rolled your eyes.

As promised, you had the most delicious dinner. Right before jumping in the shower, you took a look at your back and spotted the Black Widow symbol.

“It’s all I can draw” Natasha said shyly when your eyes met.

“It’s perfect” you smiled.

Even after you both showered, and all the paint was washed away, you felt in your skin all the love and care Natasha had for you and your family.

And as Van Gogh said, what is done in love is done well

[cod-thoughts]

Day 30 of 31 days of COD

Word count: 10.8k

Relationships: team as family, NikPrice, Ghost & Price

Tags: Angst with a happy ending, protective Price, hurt/comfort

"Please," Ghost choked out, his voice raw, muffled against Price's chest. "Please, don’t do that again. Please, Dad, please." His voice was filled with desperation, his grip tightening around Price as if to keep him from ever leaving again. Price felt the weight of the words, the fear and vulnerability that Ghost was allowing himself to show, and it broke something in him. OR Price decides to be a self-sacrificing idiot and has to deal with the consequences of his actions. Keep reading under the cut or on AO3 Translations and explanation can be found at the end!

The air on the tarmac had that crisp, early morning chill that bit through the fabric of their gear, even though their bodies were already buzzing with anticipation. The team stood around the helicopter, the rhythmic thud of the rotor blades slowly spinning in the background, the wind tousling their hair and rattling their gear. Price adjusted his hat, his gaze roaming over his men—his boys really, though he'd never say it out loud. Ghost, Soap, Gaz; they were all ready, hardened expressions mixed with determination.

Nikolai stood a little apart from the group, his presence quieter but not unnoticed. He had the look that Price knew well—concern masked beneath the guise of a practiced smile. They didn't need words, but they both knew what was coming. Before Price made his way to the rest of the team, there was this small moment carved out just for them, an almost sacred ritual.

Nikolai stepped closer, his eyes catching Price's. For a second, the world seemed to still—the noise of the rotor, the rumble of boots on tarmac, everything faded until it was just the two of them. Price took a steadying breath, reaching for the silver band on his finger. He slid it off slowly, the weight of it familiar and grounding. The ring was simple—unadorned, with only a small engraving on the inside: 'Always.' He handed it to Nik before he unclasped the chain of his dog tags around his neck. He watched as Nik mirrored the gesture on a simple chain instead.

Taking off his own ring, his hands trembling slightly, he threaded Nik's wedding ring onto his chain, next to his tags. The metal clinked together softly, a comforting sound amidst the chaos. Nikolai's ring was similarly plain, with 'Yours'etched along the inner side, a private reminder between them. Nik slipped it onto the chain that rested against his chest, the metal warm from his skin. The weight of the exchange felt heavier than it usually did, like something unspoken lingered between them—a promise and a hope.

"I'll come back in one piece, love," Price murmured, the gruffness of his voice softening slightly for Nik's ears alone.

Nik smiled, but it was the kind that barely touched his eyes. He reached out, briefly brushing his hand against Price's arm, and then quickly stepped back, knowing better than to draw it out. He couldn't afford to show weakness in front of the men, nor could Price. So, instead, he settled for words that were all facade and warmth.

"Just... just be careful, Johnathan." Nik called out, his accent thickening slightly in his worry, his voice carrying a teasing edge but layered with genuine concern. They shared a grin with each other, their focus on the mission, but the look in Nik's eyes remained serious.

Price gave a nod, a small smile tugging at his lips as he looked back at Nik. "I’ll do my best, Nik. I promise."

Nik stayed there, watching as they boarded and the bird lifted from the ground, the wind kicking up dirt around his boots. He watched until the helicopter became a dot on the horizon, and then he looked down at the ring on his chain, sighing deeply. It was all out of his hands now.

---

The mission had gone south fast. What was supposed to be a quick infiltration had turned into a bloody firefight, and their planned route had been cut off by unexpected enemy patrol, forcing them to adapt quickly. Price barked out orders, his voice urgent yet somehow calm despite the chaos unfolding around them. Making sure to direct his men to regroup in the nearby abandoned warehouse. They scrambled through broken windows and ducked behind crumbling walls, the sound of gunfire echoing like thunder.

They were pinned down, and time was running out. Price's eyes locked onto the small display blinking red on a bomb rigged to the central support of the building. It wasn't just any bomb—it was linked to secondary charges spread throughout the entire complex. The network of explosives extended beyond this building, reaching into adjacent structures, including residential blocks. The realisation hit him hard: if the bomb went off, it wouldn't just be them—it would take out nearby civilian buildings as well. The seconds were ticking down, each blink sending a wave of dread through the team.

Price's jaw clenched as he scanned the faces of his men. Ghost, steady and ready, his eyes dark with resolve; Soap, already calculating what needed to be done; Gaz, young, but with a determination that mirrored his captain’s. These were his boys. But it wasn't just about them anymore—it was about every life these bombs threatened. The only way to ensure the safety of both his team and the innocent people in the surrounding area was for him to stay behind.

There was only one way to make sure they made it out, and countless others made it out alive.

"Listen up, we don't have time. I'm staying to deal with this. You lot need to get to exfil," Price commanded, trying to keep his voice steady.

Soap, crouched behind a pillar, immediately shook his head vehemently. "No, Captain. No way in hell. I'm staying—I'm the bomb tech, I'm the one who can disarm this."

Price looked at Soap, his gaze hard but filled with something more—understanding, the heavy weight of their reality pressing down. "Soap, listen to me," he said, voice low. "You’re the expert, and that’s exactly why you have to go. The team needs you, lad. We need you for more than just today, there’s secondary charges Soap these people are going to need you.” Quietly adding You’ve got more to give, and this isn't your end."

Soap's jaw clenched, and he shook his head, the conflict tearing him apart. "Captain..."

Price stepped closer, placing a firm hand on Soap's shoulder. "It has to be me. These charges are linked, Soap—if they go off, it's not just us. It's everyone around here—civilians, families. If I can’t stop it, you’ll need to get out, protect them, and take care of our team. That's an order, MacTavish."

Soap's face twisted in pain, his eyes glistening as he fought back the tears. He was torn between loyalty and duty, but the commanding weight in Price’s eyes left no room for argument.

"No, I... I can't just leave you!" Soap shouted; his voice raw with emotion. His hands balled into fists at his sides, and his chest heaved with the weight of the choice.

Gaz stepped in then, his own face tight with anguish. He understood what Price was doing, even if every part of him disagreed with it. He knew there was no changing Price's mind, and that their best chance at saving lives was to follow orders, even if it tore at his heart. He grabbed Soap’s arm, pulling at him. "Soap, we have to go," Gaz urged, his voice cracking. "The Captain gave an order, and if we don't go now, we're risking everyone."

Soap looked at Gaz, his face twisted in a mixture of desperation and fury. He turned back to Price, his resolve wavering as he met the unwavering look in his Captain's eyes.

Price nodded once more, this time with a tenderness that cut through the tension. "It's alright, John. I'll be right behind you. You need to trust me, alright?"

Soap’s breath caught, and he finally nodded, his voice breaking as he forced the words out. "Aye, sir," he finally whispered, defeated. "You come back, you hear me?"

Price gave a faint nod, a small smile of reassurance that didn’t reach his eyes. "I'll do what I can. Now go."

Gaz moved in more forcefully, gripping Soap's shoulder and practically pulling him away towards the exit, even though Soap kept glancing back, his heart clearly wanting to stay. "We've got to trust him," Gaz said firmly, even though his own eyes were wet, his own heart heavy.

Ghost lingered, his gaze locked onto Price's, the silent exchange heavy with unspoken words. Price saw the disbelief, the raw anger, the helplessness in his eyes. Ghost took a step forward, his fists clenched at his sides, his body trembling with the urge to defy the order.

"No, Captain," Ghost said, his voice rough and almost desperate. "You can't do this alone. We should be staying with you."

Price held his gaze, his own eyes softening. "Simon, I need you to listen to me. These bombs are bigger than just us. They're rigged to take out the whole block. You need to get the others out and make sure no one else gets caught in this. You need to look after them, alright?" He took a step closer, his voice lowering. "That's not just an order, it's me trusting you to do this. Civilians, our sergeants—they need you, Simon. I need you to do this for me."

Ghost's jaw worked, his eyes wet with emotion. He looked torn, every fibre of him wanting to refuse. He took a ragged breath, looking at Soap and Gaz, then back at Price. Price reached out, gripping Ghost's shoulder firmly. "I know you don't want to go, son. But you've got to. You need to lead them out of here."

Ghost's eyes filled with something akin to betrayal, his body rigid with the effort it took to comply. He swallowed hard, nodding sharply, though the pain in his eyes remained. "Yes, sir," he forced out, his voice barely a whisper. "Just... you better make it out too."

Price gave him a small, reassuring nod. "I'll do my best, Simon. Now go."

With a final, pained look, Ghost turned and followed the others, his steps heavy, as if every fibre of his being fought against leaving. The weight of the moment hung between them, the unspoken promise that Price would find his way back to them. Ghost moved, though his heart was clearly still left behind with his captain.

Price turned back to the bomb, his heart pounding in his chest, each beat echoing the seconds slipping away, the countdown ticking down far too fast. The network of explosives flashed through his mind—the image of those charges detonating, of buildings crumbling and innocent lives lost if he failed. He forced himself to focus, to steady his breath, to remember why he had to succeed. The weight of every heartbeat thudded against his ribs, and he tried to steady his breath, tried to focus. His radio buzzed in his ear, but with a sudden crackle, it fell silent, leaving behind only a cold, suffocating silence. He glanced down at the radio clipped to his vest—broken, wires exposed, static whining faintly. It must have been damaged during the firefight. No way to let the team know if—no when—he managed this. He had to believe he could.

His fingers trembled, just for a second, and Price clenched his jaw, forcing the nervousness down. He took a slow, deliberate breath, forcing his hands to move with methodical precision over the bomb’s wiring. Each wire felt like a live current beneath his fingers, the tension a tightrope he was walking, step by careful step. Every second mattered. He could almost hear the countdown in his head, each tick reverberating louder and louder, matching the rhythm of his heartbeat. He could feel the beads of sweat on his forehead, each drop tracing a line down his temple. His focus narrowed, becoming razor-sharp.

As his hands worked, his thoughts wandered, unbidden, as if trying to find something to hold onto. Nik's face flashed in his mind—the warmth of his smile, the way his eyes shone when they looked at each other, the ring now lying against Price’s chest, cold metal that felt like the only thing anchoring him to the present. He thought of Nik waiting for him, of the promise he'd made to come back in one piece. A promise that felt like it was slipping through his fingers like grains of sand.

Ghost, Soap, Gaz—they were more than just soldiers under his command. They were his family, each of them a reason to fight, a reason to live. He could see Ghost’s eyes, the raw fear beneath the mask of composure. He could hear Soap’s voice cracking as he pleaded with him to come back. Gaz’s face, torn between duty and the unbearable fear of losing his captain. He wasn’t just doing this for himself—he was doing this for all of them.

His hands moved faster, time running too thin. He could feel his pulse in his ears, the roaring sound almost drowning out everything else. His fingers moved over the wires, blue, then red, then the tiny circuit board—each connection felt like it held the weight of the world. There was no room for mistakes. His breath came in short, sharp bursts, the pressure in his chest growing heavier with every second. Every instinct screamed at him that time was slipping away, that this might be it.

It clicked—a metallic sound, the kind that could either mean salvation or the end. The kind of sound that could decide if there was another heartbeat left or not.

Price closed his eyes in that heartbeat. He thought of Nik—the way his eyes crinkled when he laughed, the weight of his ring on Price’s chain, the promises they made silently every time they exchanged them. He thought of Ghost, a son he’d never expected but cherished all the same, of Soap’s infectious grin and Gaz’s infallible loyalty. He thought of all the moments they’d shared, the laughter, the arguments, the brotherhood that had forged them together stronger than steel. He braced himself, every muscle tensed, waiting, expecting the heat and force of an explosion—

Nothing

His eyes snapped open, the display on the bomb now blank. The small, blinking red light had stopped. For a moment, Price couldn’t move. It was as if the entire world had frozen, the silence around him deafening after the frantic, thunderous pulse of his heartbeat. His breath escaped him in a shuddering sigh—he had done it. The bomb was disarmed, and somehow, he was still standing.

Suddenly, a distant explosion echoed through the air—a deafening blast that shook the building, reverberating off the crumbling walls. Price's heart lurched. It wasn’t the bomb he had just defused, but something else nearby had gone off. He didn’t know where, but the sound was unmistakable. His stomach dropped as the fear of what that meant for his team gripped him.

"Bloody hell," he whispered to himself, the adrenaline leaving him weak for a moment. He knew what they must be thinking, that they might believe it was over for him. He had to move, had to show them he was still here.

The adrenaline that had kept him going started to drain away, leaving him feeling hollow and almost detached from his own body. His muscles felt weak, his knees threatened to buckle, and he had to grab onto the edge of the support beam to steady himself. Every part of him ached, a dull, throbbing pain radiating from his hands up his arms. He closed his eyes, just for a second, his body trembling with the aftershock. The rush that had kept his mind sharp and his focus razor-edged now abandoned him, leaving behind a void that made every breath feel heavier than the last.

"Fuck," he whispered to himself, his voice almost swallowed by the emptiness around him. He wanted nothing more than to crumple right there, to give in to the exhaustion that was washing over him in waves. But there was no time to dwell on it. He had to get out, and he had to get to his men.

He forced himself to move, pushing off from the beam, each step feeling like he was wading through deep water. Slowly, his determination overcame the fatigue, and he broke into a run. He started booking it towards the extraction point, each step pounding against the earth, the vibrations echoing through his body. His chest burned with each ragged breath, his lungs feeling raw, but the thought of his team—what they must be feeling—spurred him on.

He could picture Soap’s face, the horror, the refusal to leave. The look in Ghost’s eyes, that raw pain that Price knew would have cut deeper than any enemy’s blade. They thought he was gone. They thought they'd lost him, and that image haunted him as he ran. Gaz too—Price could see the struggle in his eyes, the conflict between following orders and the desire to go back. Gaz understood, even if he didn't agree, but Price knew it had torn at him. The look on Nik's face, the fear hidden behind the strong facade, his quiet strength always there to support him—he had to make it back.

He pushed harder, forcing his legs to move faster, the ground blurring beneath him. His feet pounded against the dirt, every impact jarring, sending jolts of pain up through his legs, but he ignored the ache. He had to get back to them. His vision tunnelled, his focus zeroed in on the path ahead, and with every muscle screaming for rest, he kept going.

The extraction point was fast approaching, but every step felt like a mile, and each breath was a struggle against the weight crushing his chest. He could feel the exhaustion clawing at him, the adrenaline crash dragging at his heels, but he refused to give in. He remembered the explosion, the fear that must have surged through his team at the sound of it. He had to prove to them he was still alive, that they hadn’t lost him. He wouldn’t let them think they had lost him, not for one second longer than necessary.

Price grit his teeth, his face set in a determined grimace, and he ran as if his life depended on it. He had promised them, and he intended to keep that promise. No matter what it took.

---

At the extraction point, Ghost, Soap, and Gaz were scattered across the area, awaiting the evac chopper. The atmosphere was tense, a kind of heavy silence that settled over them, made even heavier by the distant explosion that had echoed across the landscape. The blast had sent a shock through each of them, an unspoken fear hanging in the air—that it was Price, that he hadn't made it out. Soap was pacing back and forth, his boots grinding into the dirt with every turn, cursing under his breath as he struggled to process the reality of what they'd just done. Gaz stood nearby, arms crossed tightly over his chest, his jaw clenched as he tried, unsuccessfully, to keep his own nerves in check.

Soap was pacing back and forth, his boots grinding into the dirt with every turn, cursing under his breath as he struggled to process the explosion they had just heard. His face twisted in anguish, and his eyes were wild, darting towards the horizon. He finally stopped, turning towards Gaz, his voice breaking. "We have to go back, Kyle. We can't just stand here. He stayed back for us, and we're just gonna leave him?!"

Gaz shook his head, his own voice trembling with frustration, his fists clenched as he tried to steady himself. "We can't, Soap," he said, the words almost getting stuck in his throat. "He gave us an order. He told us to trust him. We have to." Despite his words, Gaz's own eyes were filled with fear, the tremor in his voice betraying his own desperation.

Soap's face twisted, his breathing coming in ragged gasps. "To hell with orders, Gaz! That's Price back there! What if that blast..." He stopped, choking on the words, his hands balling into fists. It was clear that the thought of losing Price was tearing him apart.

Gaz looked down, struggling to keep his composure. "I know, Tav. Do you think I'm okay with this? You think I don't want to run back there too? But he told us to trust him, and we've got to believe in him. He’s made it through worse—he'll make it through this. He has to."

A little distance away, Ghost sat apart from them, his gear discarded beside him. His gloves, his vest—they were scattered at his feet as if he couldn’t stand the weight of them anymore. The sound of the explosion echoed in his mind, repeating like a terrible omen. He stared off into the distance, his eyes unfocused, completely gone in his thoughts. His face was an empty mask, but his eyes told a different story—filled with pain, regret, and a hollow kind of fear. He couldn’t help but think that maybe the blast had been the last he'd ever hear of Price. He barely heard Soap and Gaz arguing; their voices were nothing more than background noise to the sound of Price's voice echoing over and over in his mind.

He should have stayed. He should have been the one to make that choice. Why was it always Price putting himself on the line, when Ghost knew it should have been him? The thought tore at him—he wasn't worth as much as Price, never had been. Price was the one who mattered, the one everyone needed. If someone had to make that sacrifice, it should have been Ghost, not Price. It was all he could think about, a litany of what-ifs and regrets that filled the void left by Price’s absence.

"Ghost," Gaz called, his voice almost pleading as he looked over. But Ghost didn’t respond. He just stared, his gaze locked on the horizon, as if searching for something—anything—that would tell him this wasn’t real.

Then, out of the corner of his eye, Ghost saw movement—a flicker, a shadow that broke the stillness of the distance. His eyes snapped into focus, his breath catching in his throat as he strained to see. A figure was running towards them, the silhouette unmistakable even from afar.

Ghost blinked, his heart skipping a beat. His lips parted, and he leaned forward, his body trembling with disbelief. "Price..."

It came out barely as a whisper, then louder, his voice cracking, "Price!"

Gaz and Soap snapped their heads towards the direction Ghost was staring. And there he was—Captain John Price, alive, sprinting towards them, his face set in determination. Soap let out a strangled shout, half relief, half disbelief.

"Bloody hell, he made it," Gaz breathed, a grin breaking across his face as his eyes filled with tears.

But Ghost didn’t wait. He stood up and bolted towards Price, his legs moving before his mind had even caught up. His vision blurred, and his heart pounded, the world around him fading into nothing but the desperate need to reach his captain. Ghost ran as if his life depended on it, as if somehow, if he could just reach Price fast enough, he could undo everything they had gone through in the past agonizing minutes. The moment he reached Price, all composure broke. Ghost threw himself at Price, colliding with a force that took Price by surprise, his arms wrapping around him, gripping as if he were afraid Price might slip away again. For the first time in what felt like forever, Ghost let himself crumble, his mask of stoicism shattering entirely.

"Price…" It was more of a sob than a word, his voice breaking as he held onto him, his body shaking from the weight of everything he had bottled up.

Price staggered back slightly at the impact, his eyes widening as he felt Ghost bury his head into his chest despite their height difference. The sobs that wracked through Ghost, the man who had always been unbreakable, were jarring and raw, and Price could do nothing but hold him. His own heart ached with a fierce protectiveness that burned in his chest. Price’s arms came up, wrapping tightly around Ghost, pulling him even closer, anchoring him.

Ghost’s knees suddenly buckled, the relief palpable, and Price lowered them both to the ground, his grip unwavering. Ghost’s hands fisted in the fabric of Price's jacket, his breaths coming out in broken, gasping sobs that tore at Price’s heart. For Soap and Gaz who had started running after Ghost—it was shocking. They had seen Ghost face down entire armies without flinching, watched him survive situations that would have broken any other man, but now, here he was, trembling and vulnerable, all his defences shattered.

"Please," Ghost choked out, his voice raw, muffled against Price's chest. "Please, don’t do that again. Please, Dad, please." His voice was filled with desperation, his grip tightening around Price as if to keep him from ever leaving again. Price felt the weight of the words, the fear and vulnerability that Ghost was allowing himself to show, and it broke something in him. The word Dad echoed in his mind, a word he'd longed to hear but never expected. For a second, he almost convinced himself he had imagined it, that he was hearing what he wanted to hear. But the way Ghost clung to him, the desperation in his voice—it was real. Simon had called him Dad, and it hit him harder than anything else in that moment.

Price’s throat tightened, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. He closed them, feeling his own composure slip. One hand came up to rest on the back of Ghost’s neck, fingers tangling in the fabric of his mask. He could feel Ghost struggling for breath, each sob hitching and ragged, muffled beneath the material. Price’s heart twisted at the sight, and with gentle, insistent fingers, he began to pull Ghost's mask up and off.

Ghost tensed for a moment, but Price shushed him softly, his voice filled with warmth and care. "Easy, Simon, easy, need you to breathe, lad," he whispered, his fingers sliding the mask away, revealing Ghost’s tear-streaked face, his cheeks flushed, and eyes red. Ghost gasped, his breath catching as the cool air hit his face, and Price cupped his cheeks, his thumbs brushing away the tears that spilled freely.

"Please..." Ghost whispered again, his voice cracking, his eyes searching Price’s. "I can't lose you too. Not you. Not after everything. Please, Dad... don’t leave me. Not again." His words tumbled out, each one carrying the rawness of his pain, the fear of losing the closest thing to family he had left.

Price’s heart clenched at the sound of that word again—Dad. He could see it in Ghost’s eyes, the desperation, the plea for something stable, something he could trust. Price cupped Ghost's cheeks, holding his gaze, his own tears finally spilling over. "Oh, Simon," he murmured, his voice breaking. "I won't leave you, son. Not if I can help it. You mean too much to me." His voice wavered, each word filled with his own fear and love, a promise that he would do everything in his power to stay. He pulled Ghost close again, holding him tightly as if he could shield him from everything they had faced, as if his embrace could somehow make up for all the pain that had come before.

For a long moment, it was just them. Ghost’s sobs quieted, but he didn’t let go, his body still shaking, his head once again burying itself against Price’s chest. Price kept murmuring reassurances, words of comfort, his voice barely audible, his heart aching as he tried to calm the man who had always seemed invincible. It wasn’t just Ghost needing Price—it was Price needing to be there, to prove that he had survived too, that neither of them would have to face the darkness alone.

Soap and Gaz approached cautiously, exchanging glances that spoke of both shock and a deep, unspoken understanding. The sight of Ghost, usually so steadfast, shattered and clinging to Price was almost too much to take in. Soap’s face was flushed, his emotions barely held in check, his breaths coming in shaky bursts as he struggled to maintain his composure. Gaz blinked hard, his eyes glassy, his chest aching with the weight of everything that had just happened. For a moment, neither of them knew what to do—how to bridge the gap between their shock and the need to be there for them.

Without a word, they moved closer, slowly, as if approaching a fragile thing that might break further. When they reached them, Soap dropped down behind Price, facing Ghost, his eyes still wet, and he laid a hand gently on Ghost's shoulder, his fingers trembling. Gaz knelt next to them, his own hand resting on Price's shoulder, grounding himself in the contact. They leaned in, their bodies pressing close, joining in the embrace, and it was like something finally gave way—a dam breaking, a release of all the fear and grief they had held back.

It was a mess of limbs and gear, a tangled heap of bodies pressed together, each of them holding onto the others as if they could anchor themselves in this moment. The shared relief was palpable, an almost physical thing that washed over them. Price wrapped an arm around Soap and Gaz, pulling them in even closer, his voice a soft murmur, shushing them all gently, his words filled with a fatherly warmth. "It's alright, boys. It's alright now. I've got you. We're safe. I'm here." His voice broke slightly, but he kept going, repeating the words like a promise, like a prayer.

Ghost tightened his grip, his face still buried in Price's chest, and Soap let out a shaky breath, his head dropping to rest against Price's shoulder. Gaz closed his eyes, the tension slowly leaving his body as he leaned into the embrace. For just a moment, amidst all the chaos and uncertainty, they allowed themselves this fragile, precious moment—together, alive, and safe. It was imperfect, messy, and raw, but it was theirs, and for now, it was enough.

The helicopter’s interior was dim, the rhythmic pulse of the rotor blades providing a steady, almost calming background noise. The seats were cramped, the restraints tight against their bodies, and there wasn't much space to move—but they were together. Price could feel the exhaustion in his bones, the heavy weight of everything that had transpired pressing down on him, but as they ascended, a different kind of weight settled in—anticipation and a need to be near the ones who mattered most.

Soap and Gaz shared a look before nudging Ghost towards Price. Soap's hand landed on Ghost's back, giving him a gentle push. Ghost hesitated, his gaze flicking over to Price, and the hesitation was clear in his eyes. The embarrassment of his earlier breakdown, the fear of what he'd said—it all weighed heavily on him. He looked unsure, vulnerable in a way that was so unlike him. Price caught the subtle gesture and the conflicted look in Ghost's eyes. He understood.

Price gave a small, encouraging nod, his eyes softening as he gestured for Ghost to come sit next to him. Ghost moved hesitantly, almost timid, and sat down beside Price. He shifted slightly, leaning just enough for their arms to brush. His breath hitched as if unsure, his fingers brushing against Price's arm, barely touching, needing that contact but feeling almost ashamed to ask for it outright. Price noticed the timidness, the quiet plea for comfort, and the way Ghost seemed to shrink in on himself, as if embarrassed by his own need.

Price let out a breath, his heart aching at the sight of Ghost, usually so composed, looking lost and ashamed. Without hesitation, Price reached out, wrapping an arm around Ghost's shoulders, pulling him in closer. It wasn’t an awkward or hesitant motion—it was a declaration, clear and warm. He leaned in slightly, his voice gentle but firm. "None of that, Simon. No shame in needing your family. Not now, not ever."

Ghost turned his head, his forehead coming to rest lightly against Price's shoulder, and Price could feel the way Ghost’s entire body seemed to sag in relief. The captain squeezed his arm, a reassuring pressure. He then shifted his hand, reaching down to take Ghost’s hand, guiding it up until Ghost could feel the pulse on his wrist—a steady, living reminder that Price was still there. Ghost's eyes fluttered closed, his fingers tightening around Price's wrist as he felt the rhythm. He stayed like that, his head against Price, their shoulders touching, his grip firm as if anchoring himself to the present. It was a quiet moment amidst the chaos, the pulse beneath his fingers a small, but profound comfort.

Across from them, Soap and Gaz exchanged another glance, their expressions softening. Gaz leaned into Soap, both of them strapped in, unable to move across towards their team, but still needing the comfort of each other's presence. Soap’s eyes stayed on Price and Ghost, watching his captain with an intensity that held both relief and the last remnants of fear.

It wasn’t the huddle they needed, but in the cramped helicopter, it was the best they could manage. The closeness, the small touches, and the presence of each other—it was enough for now. Enough to remind them that they had made it, that they were alive, and that they were together. And as the helicopter began its descent back to base, they held onto that fragile, precious moment, knowing it was everything they had fought for.

Price's thoughts were a tangled mess. He knew what Nik must be feeling—the fear, the anger, the sheer helplessness of waiting, of not knowing whether the person you loved was coming back. He had seen that look in Nik's eyes before, but this time, it would be worse. Price had put himself on the line again, and even as he told himself it was necessary, he knew the pain it had caused Nik. The unspoken promises, the exchanged rings—they had meant something deeper, a commitment that Price knew he had almost broken. He could almost hear Nik's voice, could feel the hurt behind whatever anger he was sure to express. It wasn't just about the mission; it was about them, about what Price meant to Nik.

Price had made a promise, and though he had kept it by the skin of his teeth, he knew that it wouldn't erase the fear that had lived in Nik's heart for those endless moments of uncertainty. He could feel the weight of that promise now more than ever, and the guilt that came with it. Nik deserved better than this constant fear—better than being left behind to wonder if today would be the day Price didn’t come back.

And as much as he steeled himself, Price knew that seeing Nik's face, seeing all that emotion laid bare, would break something inside of him. He loved Nik more than anything, and every decision he made to protect his men came at the cost of Nik's peace. Price wasn't sure how many more times Nik could bear that burden, and the thought terrified him.

Nik was waiting, and Price could tell from his posture that he already knew most of what had happened. Always keeping tabs on their missions when he couldn't join them, even the simple one. The tension in his shoulders, the way his hands were clenched into fists, his eyes scanning for Price before the helicopter had even fully landed—it all painted a vivid picture. Nik had been terrified. Price could feel the guilt settle heavily in his chest. He knew the fear Nik must have felt during those moments of silence, not knowing if Price was still alive, and it tore at him.

He thought of all the promises they'd made—of always coming back, of staying safe for each other. Nik had trusted him, and once again, Price had put himself in a position where he could have broken that trust, where he could have left Nik alone to bear the weight of his loss. The thought twisted painfully inside of him. He wasn't just fighting for his men—he was fighting for Nik, for the life they'd built, for the love that kept him grounded. And yet, time and time again, he knew he was the one who caused Nik that unbearable worry.

The helicopter door slid open, but Price hesitated. The weight of everything that had happened was still pressing down on all of them. Ghost was leaning heavily against him, and Soap and Gaz looked rattled, their eyes fixed on him and Ghost, as if they were all trying to gather the strength to face what came next.

Price knew what was waiting for him outside. He glanced at Soap and Gaz, who exchanged a tired but knowing look—no jokes, no teasing, just a silent understanding. They all knew Nik was going to let Price have it, but none of them had the energy for their usual quips. Instead, Soap just gave Price a look that said it all: Good luck, Cap. Gaz nodded slightly, his eyes filled with the same unspoken sentiment.

Price slowly shifted, easing Ghost away from him, his hand lingering on Ghost’s shoulder, squeezing it in reassurance before letting go. Ghost looked down, embarrassed, his earlier vulnerability still weighing on him. He shifted uncomfortably, clearly still reeling of his emotional outburst. Price caught the hesitation, the way Ghost's shoulders seemed to curl inward as if he wanted to shrink from sight.

Price gave him a gentle nod, his voice soft but firm. "We're alright, Simon. It's okay" He waited until Ghost looked up, meeting his eyes. Ghost gave a hesitant nod back, and Price offered a small, encouraging smile, squeezing his shoulder once more before glancing over at Soap and Gaz.

Price sighed, the fatigue settling deeper, but he steeled himself. He carefully moved, pushing himself to his feet. It was slow, deliberate, each movement weighted with the exhaustion of everything that had come before.

As he stepped out of the helicopter, his boots hitting the tarmac heavily, Price knew that he was moments away from facing Nik, and whatever was coming would be both deserved and inevitable.

It took effort to stand, his muscles protesting, and he carefully stepped past his teammates, his body aching but his mind heavier still. As Price stepped down onto the tarmac, his boots hitting the ground heavily, he knew he barely had a moment before Nik would be there, and he braced himself for what was to come.

As he predicted he barely had time to take a breath before Nik was in front of him, the look on his face a mix of fury, relief, and a deep, unspoken fear that lingered beneath it all.

“What the fuck were you thinking, John?!” Nik’s voice was thick with emotion, his accent more pronounced in his agitation, switching between Russian and English in his fury. "Ty sovsem s uma soshol? Do you think you are invincible? You think I could just—just go on if you did not come back? You think you are expendable, huh?! Ty dumayesh', chto ty ne vazhen? You think you can just throw yourself into danger like you mean nothing, like you don't matter? You keep acting like the only thing that matters is everyone else, and you forget about the people who need you, the ones who can't go on without you." Nik's words were raw, unrestrained, every ounce of fear and anger he had felt came rushing out, spilling into his voice. "Chyort', John! You promised me! Ty mne obeshchal! You always promise, and then you go and pull shit like this. How many times do you think I can take this? How many times do I have to wait, not knowing if live or die?"

Price opened his mouth to respond, to apologize, his voice low, "Nik," But before he could say anything more, Nik closed the distance between them, grabbing the front of Price’s vest and pulling him in. For a heartbeat, Price thought Nik might strike him—he could see the storm in Nik's eyes—but instead, Nik’s grip softened, and he tugged Price into a desperate embrace. Price felt Nik’s heart pounding against his chest as Nik’s arms wound tightly around him.

“You bastard,” Nik whispered, his voice breaking, tears beginning to well up. “You promised. You always promise, and then you go and do something like this.” His voice cracked, and his grip on Price tightened, fingers digging into the fabric of Price's vest as if he was terrified that if he let go, Price would slip away for good. "Do you even understand what that does to me? Every time I think I will lose you, every time you make that choice..."

Price’s eyes closed, his arms wrapping around Nik in return, holding him just as fiercely. He felt the trembling in Nik’s body, the way he was barely holding himself together. Price could hear the hitch in Nik's breath, the desperate, uneven gasps. He knew that this wasn’t just anger—it was everything they’d feared, everything they had almost lost. It was fear, love, and the aching pain of almost losing everything that mattered. It was the knowledge that Price's choices had brought them to the brink once more.

“I know,” Price murmured, his voice raw, the words almost sticking in his throat. “I’m sorry, Nik. I’m so fucking sorry.” His voice wavered, and he pulled Nik closer, as if trying to shield him from the weight of the pain he'd caused. He buried his face in Nik's shoulder, feeling the warmth, the reality of Nik being right there, and his heart ached with the depth of it.

Nik pulled back just enough to look Price in the eyes, his brow furrowed with emotion, his lips trembling. “You don’t get it, John,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I cannot do this without you. Ya ne mogu sdelat' eto bez tebya. Cannot keep pretending that I can just pick up the pieces every time you decide you should stay behind.” His voice broke, switching back to Russian as his emotions overwhelmed him. "Kazhdyy raz, kogda ty reshayesh' ostat'sya... kazhdyy raz ya dumayu, chto eto konets." The rawness of his words struck deep, his fear and frustration spilling out.

Without another word, he leaned in and kissed Price, fierce and unapologetic, right there in front of everyone. It was a kiss filled with everything they couldn’t say—anger, relief, love, desperation. Price kissed him back, not caring for a moment who was watching, letting the intensity of it say everything he couldn’t put into words. He clung to Nik, letting him feel every ounce of his promise to try, to be better, to come back every time.

Around them, the team was disembarking, moving slowly as if the weight of everything that had happened still clung to their shoulders. Soap and Gaz exchanged a glance before looking away, their smiles faint but genuine, respecting the gravity of the moment between Price and Nik. They could both sense how much this reunion meant, not just for the two of them, but for the entire team that drew strength from their bond.

Ghost stood a little apart, his eyes lingering on Price and Nik, his gaze filled with relief and something closer to vulnerability than anyone had ever seen from him. His chest felt tight as he watched the way Nik held Price, as if afraid he would slip away. Ghost didn’t move, his fingers twitching slightly as if he wanted to reach out himself, but he just watched, letting the rawness of the moment settle in.

Soap moved closer to Gaz, the two of them standing shoulder to shoulder, each of them letting out a shaky breath they didn't realize they'd been holding. Soap’s eyes were glistening, and he blinked hard, looking away from the raw display between Price and Nik, feeling the lump in his throat grow heavier. He muttered something under his breath, a mix of curses and prayers, as if trying to reconcile the fear they'd all felt.

Gaz put a hand on Soap’s shoulder, squeezing gently as he gave a shaky smile. They all wanted to rush over, to reassure themselves that Price was alright, that he was really there, but they knew this moment was not theirs to intrude on. They needed this reunion as much as Nik and Price did, but they also knew the value of letting those emotions breathe.

Finally, after a long pause, Ghost took a small step forward, his posture still guarded. His eyes remained fixed on Price, as if seeking permission, unsure whether it was his place to approach. But the relief was evident—seeing Price alive, seeing Nik holding him close—it was enough to make the lingering fear in Ghost's heart begin to ease. He swallowed hard, his own vulnerability weighing on him. He didn't know how to articulate what he felt, so he just stayed where he was, letting the intensity of the scene wash over him.

And in that space, surrounded by his brothers, there was a quiet understanding that, for now, they were together, and that was enough.

When Nik finally pulled away, he took a shaky breath, his forehead resting against Price’s. “Do not ever do that again,” he said, his voice still thick with emotion, quieter now. “I must not lose you, John.”

Price nodded, his hand coming up to cradle the side of Nik’s face. “I can't promise you that, Nik, you know I can't but I will always try to come back to you, I can promise you that much.”

Nik let out a shaky sigh, the tension in his shoulders finally beginning to ease. He gave Price a small, wry smile, knowing that that's really all Price can promise. “You better.” ---

Price's quarters were dimly lit, the low hum of the base a distant, constant noise that felt almost suffocating in the silence of the room. He could feel the exhaustion pulling at him, the day’s events replaying in his mind over and over again, but none of that compared to the sight of Nik standing across from him, eyes stormy with anger and something deeper—something that twisted in Price’s gut and wouldn’t let go. We have to talk Nik had said before dragging him here. Those words echoing and weighing heavily on Price's mind.

Nik paced in front of him, running a hand through his hair in frustration, his eyes darting from Price to the floor. "I am not done with this Johnathan. Do you really think you can keep doing this? Throwing yourself into danger like you are nothing?" His voice cracked, and he turned away, his fists clenching and unclenching. "Every time you do this, every time you put yourself in the line of fire like that, it kills me. It fucking kills me." His accent was thick with anger and fear. "You think you can just keep doing this, keep risking everything, like you do not matter? Like your life means nothing?"

Price swallowed hard, and for a second, he thought he should say something, anything to ease the anger in Nik's eyes. But he couldn’t. Instead, he felt a familiar, cold weight settle in his chest—this belief that he was the one who should take the risks. That his life was less important than the others’. He dropped his gaze, his hands balling into fists by his sides. He knew what Nik wanted him to say, but the words wouldn't come.

"Nik, I had to—"

"No!" Nik cut him off, his voice sharp as he spun to face Price again. "No, you did not have to! You chose to! Ty vybral eto!" He took a step closer, his eyes blazing with a mixture of fear and fury. "You chose to put yourself in harm's way again, you keep doing it like... like you matter not to anyone. But you do, John. Ty vazhen dlya menya. You matter to me. To your team. They need you. I need you!"

Price blinked, his chest tightening. He could see the tears in Nik's eyes, the way his whole body seemed to be trembling with the force of his emotions. Price’s heart sank further, that cold weight getting heavier. Did Nik really not see it? Didn’t he understand that this was Price’s way of protecting them all, of making sure they were safe, even if it meant putting himself at risk? He felt the words slipping away, and all that was left was the aching fear that maybe Nik was tired of it. Tired of him. He looked down, his voice barely a whisper. "Nik, I... I’m sorry. I just... I thought..."

Nik shook his head, his voice softening as he stepped closer. "You thought what, John? That I would be better off without you? That I could ever just move on?" He paused, his expression pained as he studied Price's face, the silence between them stretching. "You really think I could move on from you," he breathed out, realising what has Price looking so shaken

Price didn't respond. He couldn’t. The words were caught in his throat, and all he could do was stare at Nik, his heart pounding painfully in his chest. He felt the fear clawing at him—this belief that maybe this time, Nik had reached his limit. Maybe Nik couldn’t handle the way Price constantly put himself in danger, like he was always a breath away from leaving Nik behind. The thought terrified him, and he didn’t know how to make it right. He didn’t know how to promise that he wouldn’t do it again. Because he couldn’t promise that, he could never regret putting his men first, he would do it again in a heartbeat if it meant they would be safe.

Nik let out a shaky breath, his eyes searching Price's. "You think I will leave you, right?" he whispered again. "You think I cannot take it anymore, that I could just walk away? That I am done with you because of who you are?"

Price looked away, his jaw tightening, the fear that had been clawing at him all day suddenly feeling very real. He had seen the anger in Nik’s eyes, heard the pain in his voice, and it had all led him to the same conclusion—that maybe Nik had finally had enough. Maybe this was it. Maybe he had pushed Nik too far this time. He blinked rapidly, trying to stave off the rising dread. He couldn't lose Nik. He couldn’t bear the thought of it.

Nik reached out, his hand resting gently on Price's cheek, forcing him to look back. "John," he said softly, his voice filled with emotion. "I am not leaving you. Not now, not ever. I love you, Mishka. I understand why you do what you do. I admire it, even. The way you put others first, the way you would do anything to protect them—that is part of who you are. It is why you are a good captain, why they follow you without question. But, John, you are not doing it just for them." Nik paused, his thumb brushing lightly across Price's cheek. "You think you are expendable, but you are not. You are so much more than a soldier, more than just a leader who can be replaced. You are the heart of this team, John. You mean everything to them, to me."

Nik's voice softened, a hint of pleading entering his tone. "And Simon—he's like a son to us. Do you see that? He looks to you like a father. You cannot keep putting yourself in the line of fire and think it would not destroy him. He needs you, just like I need you. The boys—they all need you. Without you, they’d be lost.""

Price closed his eyes, his breath hitching as Nik’s words washed over him. He felt the tears prick at the corners of his eyes, and he let out a shuddering breath. The fear hadn’t vanished, but it had softened. He opened his eyes to meet Nik’s, the sincerity and intensity there grounding him in a way he desperately needed. "Nik, I... I don’t know how to stop feeling like this. Like I have to be the one who takes the risk. I don’t regret what I did back there, I can’t regret bringing my family home, Nik. It’s my job—"

Nik shook his head, his thumb brushing away a stray tear from Price’s cheek. "No, John. Your job is to lead them. To come back to them. To come back to me. You are not just a soldier—you are a person, and you matter more than you think." He leaned in, resting his forehead against Price's, his voice barely a whisper. "Please, John. Just... promise me to try. Try to believe that you are worth bringing back."

Price swallowed hard, his hands coming up to rest on Nik's shoulders, pulling him closer. "I’ll try, Nik. I promise." His voice was raw, the words carrying the weight of everything he felt. "I’ll try, for you."

For a moment, they just stood there, holding each other, the weight of the day slowly beginning to lift. Price could feel the warmth of Nik’s body against his, the steady rhythm of his breathing, and it grounded him in a way nothing else could. They stayed like that, taking comfort in each other, until a knock on the door broke the silence.

Price pulled back slightly, his brow furrowing. He exchanged a glance with Nik before he called out. "Come in."

The door creaked open, and there stood Ghost, alone. He looked hesitant, his gaze flickering between Price and Nik, as if he wasn’t entirely sure if he should be there. But he stayed silent, his eyes betraying a mix of emotions—relief, fear, and something deeper that neither Price nor Nik could ignore.

Price and Nik exchanged a glance, and without needing words, they understood. Ghost needed them, needed this moment of reassurance. Nik nodded, stepping slightly to the side, giving Ghost a space beside Price. Price held his hand out, beckoning Ghost closer, his voice gentle. "C'mere, Simon," he said.

Ghost moved forward, almost timidly, and sat down beside Price. He didn’t say anything, just silently removing his balaclava before leaning into Price’s side. Price wrapped an arm around Ghost’s shoulders, pulling him close. Nik hesitated, his hand hovering uncertainly. He wasn’t sure if Ghost wanted his touch, if he would be welcomed despite their own history. But Ghost, as if sensing the hesitation, shifted slightly, leaning back until his shoulder brushed against Nik's chest, a silent request. Nik took a breath, then reached out, his hand resting gently on Ghost’s back, rubbing gentle circles as if to help ease the tension.

For a few moments, the three of them stayed like that—silent, but connected. The weight of the day slowly began to lift, replaced by a sense of solidarity and unspoken understanding. Ghost let out a shaky breath, his eyes closing briefly as he allowed himself to relax into their embrace. Price felt the tension in Ghost’s body ease, and he exchanged a look with Nik, both of them knowing how important this was.

After a while, Ghost pulled back slightly, though he stayed close. He looked up at Price, then at Nik, and spoke in a low voice. "Soap and Gaz are in the rec room," he said. "They... they wanted to give you both some space. But I think we should all be together." There was a vulnerability in his tone, an unspoken plea.

Price smiled gently, nodding. "Alright, Simon. Let’s go find them." He looked at Nik, who gave him a small nod of agreement.

Together, the three of them left Price's quarters and made their way to the rec room. It was late, and the base was quiet, the hallways empty. When they reached the rec room, they found Soap and Gaz seated on one of the couches, their heads turning towards the door as soon as they entered. Soap’s face brightened at the sight of them, and Gaz gave a relieved smile.

Soap stood up, clearing his throat awkwardly. "Everything alright, Cap?" he asked, his eyes flickering between Price, Nik, and Ghost.

Price nodded, a warmth in his eyes as he looked at his team. "Yeah, lads. We're alright," he said, his voice steady.

Gaz smiled, gesturing for them to join. "Good. Come on, sit down."

As they all settled into the rec room, the air remained heavy for a moment, the unspoken worries and fears still lingering. Soap shifted uncomfortably, his eyes on Price. "Cap... we were really worried about you," he said, his voice uncharacteristically serious. He glanced at Gaz, and then back at Price. "What you did out there... it scared us. And... I feel like I should’ve done more. I’m the demolitions expert—I should've been there, I should've stopped it."

Gaz nodded, a frown tugging at his lips. "I pulled Soap away. I thought it was the right call, but I can't stop thinking—what if you didn't make it and we left you behind, Price? What then?"

Price looked at them, his heart clenching at the guilt etched on their faces. He opened his mouth to respond, but Ghost spoke first, his voice barely above a whisper. "I wouldn't know what to do if you were gone." His words hung in the air, the vulnerability in his tone striking everyone. Ghost's eyes were focused on the floor, his mask once again hiding his expression but his slightly hunched shoulders gave him away, as if trying to shield himself from the rawness of his own admission.

Price swallowed hard, his voice gentle but filled with emotion as he spoke. "Lads... this wasn’t on you. You did what I ordered, and you did it because you trusted me. I made that choice because I thought it was the only way to keep you safe." He paused, looking each of them in the eyes, his gaze lingering on Soap, Gaz, and Ghost. "You need me, and I need to remember that. I’ve spent too long thinking my job is just to protect you all, even at the cost of myself, but that's not it, is it? My job is to come back. To be here with you." He sighed, his voice softening. "None of you deserve to carry this guilt. I'm really sorry."

For a moment, silence settled over them, heavy with the weight of everything unspoken. Soap shifted again, his eyes dropping to the floor before lifting back to Price. "It's just... I can't stop thinking about what could've happened. If things had gone wrong, if you hadn't made it out. We need you, Cap. We all do. We can't do this without you." His voice broke slightly, the vulnerability evident.

Gaz nodded in agreement, his expression conflicted. "He's right. We all signed up for this, but we follow you because we believe in you. Just... don't forget we need you here. Not just leading us, but being with us."

Ghost stayed silent, but he shifted closer to Price, the movement subtle, almost unconscious. It spoke of his need for the closeness, for the reassurance that they were all still here, together.

Price looked at them, each one of them, and nodded slowly. "I get it, lads. I really do. I'll do better. I promise you that." He reached out, patting Soap and Gaz on the shoulder, the gesture filled with warmth. "We're a family, and I'm not going anywhere. Not if I can help it."

Slowly, the tension began to dissipate, the weight of their worries lifting just a bit as they shared in their vulnerability. They had faced so much together, and despite the pain and fear, they were still here—still standing together.

The air shifted, a sense of lightness finally beginning to settle over them. Soap looked over at Ghost, a grin tugging at his lips. "So Cap, Nik, when's the adoption ceremony for our Ghostie then?" He winked, the teasing in his voice clear.

Ghost bristled slightly, a hint of colour touching his cheeks as he looked away, embarrassed. "Piss off, Soap," he muttered, still embarrassed from calling Price 'Dad' earlier.

Price chuckled, giving Ghost a gentle nudge. "Could do a lot worse, Simon," he said, his tone light but sincere, carrying an undertone of genuine affection. Nik nodded in agreement, a smile tugging at his lips as he looked at Ghost. He leaned in slightly, his voice low and speaking in Russian, "Ty uzhe nasha, kostochka. Nikakikh bumag ne nuzhno.." He finished with a wink, his tone filled with warmth and affection.

Ghost’s eyes flickered, something softening in his expression at Nik's words and the nickname he'd been given years ago by the man. Price gave a small smile, his hand squeezing Ghost's shoulder gently, as if echoing the sentiment without needing to say it out loud.

Soap and Gaz, watching from across the room, exchanged a look, clearly curious. Soap raised an eyebrow, a grin tugging at his lips. "Alright, what did you just say to him, Nik? He just melted!" he teased.

Nik straightened, a glint of amusement in his eyes as he shook his head. "Nah, Soap," he replied, the hint of a smile playing on his lips. "Some things are just for family."

Gaz leaned forward, clearly intrigued. "Family, eh? So it's official then? Ghost’s adopted?" he joked, his grin widening.

Ghost let out a huff, but the corner of his mouth twitched upwards, betraying the warmth he felt. "Lucky me," he said, his voice softer than usual.

The room fell into a comfortable silence for a few moments, the kind that comes when everything important has been said and everyone is just grateful to be there. Price looked around at his team—his family—and felt something settle in his chest. A sense of peace, however fragile, and a promise to himself to do better for them. He pulled Ghost a little closer with a gentle pat on his shoulder.

Nik smiled, watching the interactions, then let out a soft sigh. "Alright, enough of the heavy talk. Where do you keep your cards?"

Soap immediately perked up, a grin spreading across his face. "Oh, now you’re talking my language, Nik. But don’t expect to win this time. I’ve got some tricks up my sleeve."

Gaz raised an eyebrow, shaking his head. "Yeah, right, Tav. Last time you said that, you ended up losing all your snacks to me."

Nik smirked, looking at Price and Ghost. "Would you like to join? Or would you rather watch these fools lose all their dignity?"

Price chuckled, giving Ghost a gentle squeeze before letting him go. "Why not? Could use a bit of fun." He looked down at Ghost, catching his eyes. "What do you say, Simon? Ready to see Soap embarrass himself again?"

Ghost’s lips twitched, a genuine smile breaking through under his mask. "I suppose I could make time for that," he said quietly, his tone lighter now.

The team moved to gather around a table, the atmosphere lighter, their laughter beginning to fill the space as they settled in for a game. The fears and worries of the day hadn’t vanished, but for now, they were together, and that was enough. The sense of family among them, stronger than ever, wrapped around them like a warm blanket, carrying them into the night.

The translations are also done to the best of my abilities (i dont trust google translate as someone who doesnt speak english trust me, its wrong a lot of the time lol) I did ask someone who speaks more russian than I do but they're also not a native speaker so if you are please please correct me i wont be offended id actually appreciate it!! (DM or an ask is a-okay too if you're nervous to reply, i dont bite promise)

I also decided to do them phonetically (again i attempted to do them phonetically without the phonetic alphabet, its a challenge) because i think it makes it easier for the reader but if you guys dont like that im happy to change it :D

Ty sovsem s uma soshol? - Are you completely crazy?

Ty dumayesh', chto ty ne vazhen - Do you think you are not important?

Chyort - Used the same way English speakers use fuck however it technically means damn/devil and its a little less aggressive

Ty mne obeshchal! - You promised me!

Ya ne mogu sdelat' eto bez tebya. - I can't do this without you

Kazhdyy raz, kogda ty reshayesh' ostat'sya... kazhdyy raz ya dumayu, chto eto konets. - Every time you choose to stay behind, every time i think its the end

Ty vybral eto! - You chose it!

Ty vazhen dlya menya. - You are important to me

Ty uzhe nasha, kostochka. Nikakikh bumag ne nuzhno. - You're already ours, little bone. No paperwork needed.

[gourjenous]

Pretend Proposal || j.jaehyun

The holiday season was always a magical time for you. The twinkling lights, the scent of pine trees, and the warmth of family gatherings filled your heart with joy. This year, however, your holiday spirit was about to take an unexpected turn.

You had been friends with Jaehyun from NCT for years, a friendship forged through shared laughter and countless late-night conversations. But as the holiday season approached, Jaehyun confided in you about something that had been weighing heavily on his mind.

“Y/N, you have to help me,” he said one evening, his expression serious. He paced around the small living room of his apartment, his hands running through his dark hair, a sign of his growing anxiety. “My family is throwing a big holiday gathering this weekend, and they keep asking me about my love life. They want to know when I’m going to bring home a girlfriend.”

You raised an eyebrow, trying to suppress a smile. “So, what do you want me to do? Play matchmaker for you?”

“No, no! I need you to pretend to be my boyfriend for the weekend,” he blurted out, looking at you earnestly. “If I can show them I’m with someone, they’ll stop asking. Please, Y/N. It’ll just be for a couple of days. I promise I’ll owe you one.”

You were taken aback by the sudden request. Playing Jaehyun's boyfriend? You had never considered it before. However, after a moment of contemplation, you agreed. “Fine, I’ll help you out. But only if you promise to treat me to dinner afterward.”

“Deal!” he grinned, relief washing over his face.

As the weekend approached, you found yourself excited yet nervous. You and Jaehyun had always shared a platonic bond, but the thought of pretending to be his boyfriend stirred a flutter of anticipation in your chest. The idea of holding his hand, leaning close to him, and interacting with his family made your heart race in a way you hadn’t anticipated.

On the day of the gathering, you arrived at Jaehyun’s family home, which was beautifully decorated for the holidays. The aroma of freshly baked cookies wafted through the air, mingling with the scent of pine from the massive Christmas tree in the living room. Jaehyun’s family welcomed you with open arms, showering you with warmth and affection that made you feel instantly at home.

“Y/N, it’s so good to see you!” Jaehyun’s mother exclaimed, pulling you into a tight hug. “Jaehyun talks about you all the time. I’m so glad he finally brought you home!”

You exchanged a glance with Jaehyun, who wore an amused expression. “Yeah, we’re pretty serious,” he replied, wrapping an arm around your shoulders, drawing you close.

The day unfolded with various activities—decorating the tree, baking cookies, and engaging in friendly games. Jaehyun’s family was lively, full of laughter and love, making it easy for you to slip into your role as his boyfriend. Yet, amidst the fun, you couldn’t help but notice how naturally you and Jaehyun interacted. The way he smiled at you, the little touches, and the laughter you shared felt almost real.

As the evening approached, the family gathered around the dinner table, the warmth of the candles flickering in the dim light. Jaehyun’s father raised a glass to toast, and you felt a sense of belonging wash over you.

“To family,” he began, “and to love, in all its forms.”

You glanced at Jaehyun, who met your gaze with a soft smile. The ambiance felt magical, and you found yourself lost in the moment, almost forgetting that this was all an act.

As dinner progressed, the conversation flowed freely, and you felt increasingly comfortable around Jaehyun’s family. They asked you questions about your life, interests, and how you and Jaehyun met. You exchanged glances with Jaehyun, who played along effortlessly, weaving in stories of your friendship while maintaining the illusion of a romantic relationship.

After dinner, the family moved to the living room for dessert and gift exchanges. You found yourself sitting next to Jaehyun on the couch, the warmth of his body sending delightful shivers down your spine. You both engaged in playful banter, teasing each other about the stories being shared, and as the night wore on, the line between friendship and something more began to blur.

However, just as the atmosphere reached its peak of warmth, the doorbell rang, cutting through the laughter. Jaehyun’s younger sister rushed to answer it, and moments later, she returned with a surprise guest—Jaehyun’s ex-girlfriend, Soojin.

“Hey, everyone! I heard there was a holiday party!” Soojin announced with a bright smile, her eyes scanning the room until they landed on Jaehyun. A hint of tension hung in the air as she approached him, her presence casting a shadow over your previously lighthearted evening.

“Jaehyun, it’s been a while!” she said, leaning in for a hug, her smile widening as she took note of your intertwined hands. “And who’s this?”

You felt a pang of insecurity as you realized that you were, in fact, a prop in this situation. “I’m Y/N, Jaehyun’s boyfriend,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady.

Soojin’s eyebrows raised, but she quickly masked her surprise with a friendly smile. “Oh, nice to meet you! Jaehyun has always had great taste.” Her words were light, but you could sense an underlying challenge.

Jaehyun’s expression shifted slightly, and you could see the discomfort in his eyes. “Yeah, Y/N is really important to me,” he replied, his voice firm.

As the evening continued, Soojin attempted to engage Jaehyun in conversation, reminiscing about their past and trying to reignite the spark that once was. You felt increasingly out of place, the warmth of the family gathering dissipating as you became aware of the lingering connection between them.

You excused yourself to the kitchen, needing a moment to breathe. The familiar clatter of plates and laughter faded into the background as you leaned against the counter, trying to collect your thoughts. What were you even doing here? This was all a ruse, yet your heart ached as you considered the possibility that Jaehyun might still have feelings for her.

Moments later, Jaehyun entered the kitchen, his expression serious. “Y/N,” he said softly, approaching you. “I’m sorry about that. She didn’t tell me she was coming.”

“It’s fine, really,” you replied, forcing a smile. “You two have history. It’s understandable.”

Jaehyun sighed, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “But I’m not interested in her anymore. I care about you, Y/N. This weekend… it’s made me realize that.”

You looked up, surprised. “What do you mean?”

He stepped closer, his eyes searching yours. “This whole thing was supposed to be an act, but somewhere along the line, it felt real. I’ve always liked you, but I was scared to ruin our friendship. Seeing her again made me realize that I want something more.”

Your heart raced at his confession. Could it be true? Did he really have feelings for you? “Jaehyun, I… I didn’t know.”

“Can we just forget about Soojin and enjoy the rest of the evening?” he asked, taking your hand gently. “I want to focus on us.”

You nodded, your heart swelling with a mix of relief and excitement. “I’d like that.”

As you rejoined the gathering, the atmosphere felt lighter. Jaehyun’s family continued to share stories, and you both engaged in the fun, stealing glances and playful touches that felt genuine. You felt a renewed connection with him, the tension from earlier dissipating as you settled into your newfound reality.

Later that evening, after everyone had exchanged gifts, Jaehyun’s family gathered for one last toast. “To love and new beginnings!” his father declared, raising his glass.

You and Jaehyun exchanged knowing smiles, the warmth of the moment wrapping around you like a cozy blanket. As the celebration wound down, you found yourself alone with Jaehyun by the fireplace, the soft glow illuminating his features.

“I’m really glad you came today,” he said, his voice low. “You made this whole experience worth it.”

You smiled, your heart fluttering. “Me too, Jaehyun. I had a great time.”

He hesitated for a moment before leaning closer, his gaze locking onto yours. “Can I… kiss you?”

The question hung in the air, filled with anticipation. You nodded, and he closed the distance between you, capturing your lips in a soft, tentative kiss. It felt electric, a culmination of the feelings that had been building between you.

As you pulled away, breathless, you both shared a laugh, the weight of the world lifting off your shoulders. “I think I like this new dynamic,” Jaehyun said with a playful grin.

“Yeah, me too,” you replied, your heart racing at the thought of what lay ahead.

As the night came to a close, you realized that what started as a simple act had turned into something beautiful—a new beginning that neither of you had expected, but both were excited to explore together.

[laughroditee]

Your Ghost | Part 2 - XIII Death

Part 1 is here

CW: this story takes place after Soap's death and contains supernatural elements, tarot, mentions of death and blood

Summary: Evangeline reluctantly goes to talk to Simon about Johnny at Johnny's urging.

Mood Music:

The ghost of John MacTavish looked down at me with a serious expression.  “I did.  I need yer help, Evangeline.  Yer the only one who can do it.”

“No,” I said.

He blinked. “‘No?’”

“No,” I repeated, my eyes a little too wide. 

“Ye haven’t even heard what I want from ye.”  John looked annoyed, his brows drawing down in a frown that lined his face. It made him look maybe just a little bit intimidating.  Having issues with displeasing someone, who me?

“Don’t want to.  Can’t.”  I shook my head for extra emphasis as if I needed it.  “Mm-mm.”

“Are ye always so childish?” 

Oof, right in the feelings.  “You want me to talk to someone, don’t you?” I accused, my finger jabbing the air at him.  

“How—?”

“Knight of Swords.  Air.  Communication,” I explained as if this were common knowledge and a perfectly logical conclusion to reach.  “You just have that very chatty air about you, and I dunno, man, I’m not about that life.  I have social anxiety.  I don’t play well with strangers because I’m too busy having a heart attack around them.  It’s just not a strength that I have.”

John looked momentarily apologetic before despair swallowed the expression.  This gave me pause.  Fuck me and my Catholic guilt.  “Fine!  Okay, alright, I’ll hear you out, but I can’t promise you anything.”  I sat down on the edge of the bed, just trying to quell the anxious jitters making my fingers shake, The Knight of Swords card dancing slightly in my grasp.  I placed it back with the other two in the reading and looked up at my ghostly kinsman.

John’s examining gaze was concerned as he stood across from me.  “Ye alright, lass?”

Reminding myself to take a deep breath, I simply nodded.

A single confirmation nod from John was all he gave before launching into his story.  “I was a soldier in life.  SAS.  British special forces.  We were on a mission a few months ago, chasin’ a Russian terrorist in the London tunnels.  Makarov.”  His eyes blazed as the memories washed through him, spitting his enemy’s name as if it were poison.  “We had ‘im too.  But the fucker was slippery.  My captain and I got shot while we were diffusin’ a bomb.”  John’s hand went to his shoulder as if to soothe the phantom wound.  “Makarov was about to finish ‘im off – my captain, I mean – but I managed to get up and clap the bastard, only… I ended up gettin’ shot in the head.  Killed instantly.  Then Makarov buggered off.”

I listened intently to John’s story, my heart squeezing in my chest for him.  “I’m so sorry, John.  I… don’t know what else to say.  You were really brave.”

He smirked.  “A lot of good it did me.  Still, Captain Price is alive, and I dunnae regret that.”  His eyes seemed focused on something far away, and I waited for him to continue.

When he didn’t, I had to prompt him.  “John?  What is it that you want from me?”

His eyes refocused on me, his mouth set in a grim line.  “I need yer help, Evangeline….  My boyfriend was there that day.  One of my teammates.  He’s not doin’ well.”

Shit.  I blew out a long breath as if I was trying to exorcise my demons.  “I’m so sorry,” I repeated uselessly.  “John, I’m… probably the last person you want to go and talk to your boyfriend about your death or literally anything else.  I suck at this kind of thing.  I never know what to say to grieving people, even if I’ve known them forever.  Words just aren’t enough.”

“Please,” he said, kneeling by the bed, his ghostly hand passing through mine as it lay on my lap, chilling me.  “You’re all I have, lass.”

Despite the urgency in his voice, I was hesitant for reasons that should have been obvious.  I stared down at the three cards on the bed once again, reinterpreting the reading as The Knight of Swords representing John, the Death card — for the first time in one of my readings — representing his literal death, and the Three of Swords representing his boyfriend’s subsequent heartbreak.  There are always multiple ways to interpret the cards in every situation; you just have to move through it and see what fits—a little like grief.

I looked back at him with an expression of resignation on my face.  “You’re lucky I like you.”

His face lit up.  “So you’ll do it?”

I sighed, coming to terms with the decision I was about to make.  “Yeah.  I’ll do it.”

“Sorry I called ye childish,” he said apologetically.

“Mm.”

“Yer beau’iful,” he tried again.

I gave him a grin.  “Aww, how kind of you to say.”

“Yes, I am kind. Now you compliment me.”

“Why should I when you just did it yourself?”

He chuckled before his expression sobered.  “Thank you, Evangeline. I cannae repay the favor you’re doin’ me.”

I looked back at him, noting how similar our eyes were.  “You can owe me in the next life, how’s that?”

“Sounds like a fair deal.  So, are ye gonna clean up this mess?”

“Sorry, you’ll have to clean yourself up.”

“Funny.”

I leaned down and started to gather my fallen tarot cards, picking out carpet lint and hairs occasionally as I stacked the deck.

”Y’know…,” he began, “ye make me wish I could’ve met you while I was livin’.  Think we coulda been friends?”

Deck neatly in hand, I looked up at him, a warm, bittersweet feeling blossoming inside my chest.  “Yeah, I think we could’ve been.  Could still be.”

He laughed.  “Well, bein’ friends with me is a blessing in itself.”

“I’m sure it is.”

We headed out by taxi to John’s old flat to see his boyfriend, Simon.  Simon Riley.  I turned the name over in my mind as we drove, wondering what kind of man he was.  It was odd traveling in a car with a complete stranger, knowing that you have a ghost with you.  I kept looking at the driver in the rearview mirror, paranoid that he’d be able to see John, but aside from my own awkwardness, the trip concluded uneventfully.

I stared at the door that I was supposed to be knocking on and felt immediately threatened, that familiar fight-or-flight feeling making my extremities tingle.  “Shit.  John, I can’t…”

“Easy.  I’ll be right here; I won’t leave ye.  But we have to get in and get to Simon, alright?  The eejit’s blootered.”

I stared at him in confusion.  “He’s what?”

John rolled his eyes, exasperated.  “Drinkin’, hen.  He’s right sloshed.  Now get knockin’.”

Stepping toward the door, I looked at John and said, “I feel like your Scottish level just increased.”  I wrapped my knuckles on the door before I lost my nerve and stepped back.

He smirked, though it didn’t reach his eyes.  “I think yer just too American to understand—“

The door flew open, revealing the personification of my Death card: an enormous man wearing a skull balaclava, no shirt, about one billion muscles, and an appropriately sized scowl.  His displeasure was evident despite the mask covering his features.  It radiated off of him in waves like heat, like the smell of alcohol that invaded my nostrils as it drifted out from him.  Piercing dark eyes stared down at me briefly before squinting, and then he slammed the door in my face.  I could hear his heavy footfalls retreating further into the flat.  I looked at John, at a complete loss, and maybe with a bit of anxiety.  Just a wee bit.

He sighed.  “Knock again, Evangeline.  He’ll answer.”  

“Why do you not look convinced?”

“Because I’m not.”

“I appreciate your honesty.  Is he gonna kill me?” I asked, somehow finding the nerve to knock again through my blooming dissociation.  It was a genuine fear.  What do I actually know about these guys?  Not much.  John hadn’t told me anything about Simon besides that they were both in the military.  He most certainly didn’t tell me about how absofuckinglutely intimidating his man was; he looked like he could just break me in half with those dark brooding eyeballs of his, no hands necessary.  My heart lurched, palpitating in my chest wildly like a canary in a proverbial coal mine.

“He won’t kill ye,” John assured me and my anxiety.

Ten beats passed. Nothing.

“Steamin’ bloody Jesus,” John said in frustration and then disappeared through the wall of the flat.  I could hear him swearing and yelling, all in vain.  He emerged, raking a hand through his mohawk in irritation.  When his eyes finally locked with mine, a silent plea filled them.

I didn’t like that look on John’s face; the pain and concern etched there was almost a tangible thing, and it hurt.  It made me feel edgy and a bit unstable, as if the ground beneath me wasn’t as sturdy as I believed before coming out here.  I stepped up and knocked again, louder, more insistent.  For him.

This time, I could hear the lumbering stomps of Simon’s gait as he approached the door to the flat, and I braced myself for whatever might come.  My hair sucked forward from the sudden vacuum the door caused, and I nearly expected the door to be ripped from its hinges, such was the velocity at which the door opened.  I hadn’t stepped back, but Jesus, I wished that I had.

“The fuck do you want?”  Simon’s voice was a low growl, his thick British accent raking across me like a physical attack.

There was that small animal voice in the back of my head as I looked up at the angry behemoth at the door, which said, with zero doubt, “You are going to die.”  He braced a forearm on the doorframe, leaning in closer.  My eyes widened fractionally with every millimeter that decreased between us.  Shit.

“Um… A-are you Simon?  Simon Riley?”

He blinked at me with unfocused eyes.  He’d been drinking heavily as he reeked of alcohol, which was wonderful for me because we all know that drunk people are totally predictable.  “Who’s askin’?”

My eyes flicked to John, who stood beside the door, nodding encouragingly.  “M-my name is Evangeline.  I’m here about John—"

“Johnny,” John — or Johnny — corrected me.

“Johnny?”  I glanced at my ghostly companion, who nodded.

Simon narrowed his eyes.  “The fuck you on about?”

“Look, I know this will sound crazy, but he sent me here with a message.”  This was a bit of a stretch since, now that I thought about it, Johnny didn’t actually give me a message for Simon.

“So, what, you’re a bloody fortune teller?” Simon asked, his gravelly voice seething with bitter outrage.

Shit shit shit shit shit.  “No, that’s not—“ I started, taking a defensive step backward, but he barreled on.

“What the fuck do you want here?”

“Johnny wanted me to—“ 

I had little time to react before he picked me up by my jacket lapels and slammed me against his door, the air quickly evicted from my lungs.  The back of my head stung as I looked in horror at him.

“Johnny doesn’t want anything.  He’s fucking dead.”

I froze under his gaze, which was both hateful and wounded, the cold rush of adrenaline coursing through my bloodstream.

Johnny interjected in a panic, “The first thing I ever said to him was, ‘I’ll save you a seat, sir.’  Tell him!”

I could feel my throat starting to close up.  I couldn’t move, couldn’t talk, couldn’t breathe.

“Shit.”  Johnny rushed forward, moving through Simon, trying to get him to loosen his grip, but it was useless.  Next, he passed through me, my body feeling the chill of his presence, a strange, otherworldly shiver as suddenly, my mouth moved.

“LT, let ‘er go.”  The voice was mine, but the speaker was Johnny, his Scottish inflection clear in my voice.

Part 3

[sofasoap]

Snowman

pairing: Nikolai x F!Reader + OC child Rating : M for innuendos. otherwise fluff family story.

Summary: As a good doting father, Nikolai took his family into the wood for a quiet getaway.

Thank you @glitterypirateduck for the Vacation mode challenge! I am sorry I always pull in at the last minute.. *sob*

OC characters belongs to:

Myléne 'Petra’ Scholten de Ridder, @eenochian Olga 'Zhar’ Samiolova, @nrdmssgs Christine 'Riot’ Vega, @gamergirlbonestaskforce141riot

“Anya! Don’t run so… fast. Oh dear.” You sighed as the warning had come too late for your toddler who tripped and face planted herself into the fresh powder snow.  She was immediately picked up by your husband who threw the toddler high up in the air, causing a fit of giggle. 

“There my little princess. Not a scratch. How brave!” 

“Papa!! Snow!!” she giggled as she pointed towards the ground and started wiggling around in his hold, eager to get back onto the soft cold surface. 

“Yes I know it’s snow, but don’t run too far away from papa and ma alright? It's dangerous. There might be bears… wolves and bad guys nearby.”

The little one nodded her head, with a serious expression on her face.

“Good, now go make a snowman for papa alright?” Nikolai sat his daughter down and the little girl immediately went to work, gathering up the snow to form a little snowball. 

The rare family breaks the three of you, getting away from the busy work schedules and missions. This spontaneous getaway was initiated by your daughter reading a story book, and pouting about how she never built a snowman before.

“I must correct this! The daughter of mine has never built a snowman before???” Nikolai put his paperwork down and picked his daughter up from the couch, peppering her with kisses.  “You don’t have any free time love.” you pointed out to your husband.  “I always have time for my little princess. And you of course.” he smirked at you as you rolled your eyes.  “I’ll get Yuri to take the workload off me…” “Yuri got the twins. Petra will twist your neck off if you add more workload onto him.” “Zhar can deal with it.”  “Do you want to see Krueger pouting? Or Nikto mopping away.” “What has Krueger got to do with Zhar?” Nikolai frowned.  “Or maybe I should ask Price if I can borrow Riot…” “You want to drag a pregnant woman to work?” you gasped. “What?” “What? Oh uh, you weren’t supposed to know that. Anyway, where are we going anyway? Into the mountains?” you quickly change the subjet. “ I got a cabin in the woods…” “How many properties have you got?” you quirk your eyebrow. “A lot.”  he smirked. "Remember your husband is rich."

It wasn’t even a small cabin. You thought it would be like the other small safe houses you have been to. It was a proper, large resort style cabin, well concealed and hidden inside the wood.  Anya, being the excited little child, runs around the cabin and checks all the rooms and amenities out, and pulls you around to show you each of the new things that caught her eyes.   The three of you spend days in quietness, just like a normal family, Anya drawing quietly in front the fireplace with her Papa, who has been staring at something on the same page for the last thirty minutes. and suspicously moving his finger on the page. “No work, remember your promise? Chimera will not fall apart without you in a week. Trust the crews.” You gently remove the hidden phone behind the book he was supposedly reading, reminding him of his promises. Nikolai chuckled as he pulled you into his lap, kissing your cheek as an apology.  “You know we hardly get to spend time like a normal family.” you bury your face into the crook of his neck. “The team will have everything under control. Please just relax. Spend time with your daughter, and me.”  It’s one of the guilt Nikolai carries, he couldn’t afford to give you and his daughter a normal life.  A life without bloodshed and danger. The past he bares, the sins he carries, the man he is,  There is always a chance the two of you are in danger. He knows you are strong enough to defend yourself.  But his little innocent princess?  

Anya’s gasp pulls both you and Nikolai’s attention towards her.  “IT’S SNOWING!”  She jumped up and ran towards the window. “Papa! Do you think we will have enough snow by tomorrow for a snowman?”  “Maybe?” he laughed. “But we might be trapped in here forever with lots of snow!”  “Good!” Anya turns towards her parents. “That means I can have papa and ma with me all the time!”

“Bears? Wolves?” you walked up towards your husband and leaned against his arm. Watching your daughter using all her energy to start rolling the snow ball around. “Didn’t know there’s wild animals nearby.”

“Use to. But the only wild animal here at the moment is me.” Nikolai chuckled. “The scary big bad wolf…”

“Oh what a big hand you have got!” you smirked, playing along with him.

“The better to touch you with.”

“What a big mouth you have." 

"The better to eat you with!” his smile widened. “And you know what other big thing this big bad wolf has?” he whispered into your ears, letting out a low growl.

“Care to show me later on?” 

“Papa!! Ma! Come and help meeeeee!!!”

“Did you have fun at the cabin, Anya?” “Yep!! I made Ma made hot chocolate.. Marshmallow.. Papa put fire on… I build snow man!!! and Oh ma and Papa played the big bad wolf game!”

“Anya…..oh heavens.” 

Bonus:

“What a big hand you have..”

“The better to spank your ass with.” “What a big mouth you have…” “The better to eat your pussy with.”

“And the big cock?”

“The better to pleasure my beautiful wife with.” Nikolai smirked as he started climbing over you. 

“Then, my big bad wolf,” you thrust your hip up to grind against him. “Show me how it's done.” 

@preciouslittlecreature @roosterr @connorsui @glitterypirateduck