#rest of my fingers sometimes i put a little too much pressure on the busted index finger and i need to mel blanc scream

[bmpmp3]

recently i decided to start playing a new mobile rhythm game as i wait for sif2 to come out in english and a day later i nearly chopped off the top 4mm of my index finger by accident (blanket knitting incident). is the universe itself trying to stop me.

[xpeachesncream]

it takes two | one shot (myg)

summary: min yoongi was the one who came to understand you and took you for you. but, when boundaries start getting crossed and priorities begin to change, you start to question if your relationship with your bestfriend is strong enough to make it through.

pairing: athlete!reader x athlete!myg

genre: bestfriends to lovers au, basketball au | fluff, angst, smut

words: 12.3k

warnings: cussing, mature language/implied sexual content, protected AND unprotected sex (later on), slight breast play, oral (f. receiving), fingering, multiple orgasms, missionary, riding/straddling, mentions of alcohol consumption, dancing, mention of marijuana, sex on the beach kinda?, some heavy angst, insecurities, crying, injuries (like a cut/ankle sprain), yoongi is just kind of an idiot at one point

note: heavily inspired by the movie love and basketball. unedited for the most part, pls excuse any spelling/grammar errors.

tags: @ggukkieland​ @miinoongi​ @bluesharksandfish​ @unicornbabylover​

⏏︎ now playing: triggered - jhené aiko ; sorry enough - chris brown

First Quarter: 6th Grade

You didn't really have a lot of friends in elementary school. Any, actually. Hell, the girls in your class purposely ignored you because you acted different. Dressed different. Enjoyed the shit boys liked, like playing ball and video games. You couldn't relate to their gel pens, Lisa Frank folders, cute binder stickers and bracelet charms. None of that shit was you. But you didn't care, you were fine by yourself. Nobody to please, nobody to care for.

The only person that came to understand you was Min Yoongi and that's because you played basketball with him and his friends during daycare. At first, it came as a surprise because truthfully, you felt like Yoongi only let you play because he felt bad for you. Which, okay, whatever— so be it. But, after the last round during a game of two versus two, you found yourself on the ground, huge gash on the knee from chasing after the ball before it could go out of bounds.

"Ouch! Crap!" You groaned as you sat up and checked out your knee. Yoongi walks towards you and crouches down, examining the bloody gash.

"Come on." He says, holding out a hand to help lift you up. He swings your arm over his shoulder, already knowing that any sudden movements to your knee can make the wound sting. He takes his time and walks with you as you hop on one leg towards the office, not really saying much. Yoongi wasn't the most talkative in class. He hung out with two or three other boys in your class on the daily, but they were quiet. Weren't much troublemakers, didn't cause ruckus like the other boys did. But, he was still popular among the girls because he was a little cutiepie. You remember walking into the bathroom, hearing Angie and her friends tease her about her crush on Yoongi. Then, the following week, one of her friends also ended up crushing on Yoongi and they bickered [weirdly] in the bathroom about it.

Getting to the office, he sits you down on the bench before approaching the office admin to grab some bandaids and ice for you.

"What can I do for you, Mr. Min?" Mrs. Yao comes over to greet him.

"Y/N's hurt. Can I get a bag of ice and a bandaid for her, please?" Mrs. Yao looks over her shoulder and does a head tilt before sighing. She knew you weren't like the girls in your class, always getting hurt one way or another, being more hardheaded and stubborn than the usual. She grabs a bag of ice and hands the supplies over to Yoongi before placing her hands on her hips.

"You think you can take care of Miss Y/N, or do you need me to help?" He shakes his head.

"I got it, thank you Mrs. Yao." He politely says, giving her a small toothless smile. You silently watch as he walks over, crouching down once again to tend to your wounds. "I don't think this will hurt, but stay still so I can put this bandaid on." He says softly as he spreads the small Neosporin packet across your wound. He wipes his finger down on his pants before removing the back of the bandaid and pressing it against your knee. "There. You should keep the ice on it so it doesn't bruise and stuff." He stands.

"Thank you." He nods as he watches you stand and slightly limp before you adjust your steps to the right pressure. He follows you out, coming back to your side with his hands in his pockets.

"Why don't you act like the other girls?" He asks, cocking an eyebrow at you.

"What? Not liking all the girly stuff that they like?"

"Sure, or you playing basketball. You know girls are usually like cheerleaders and cheer the guys on instead."

"Well, I don't wanna be a cheerleader. I just would rather play. What's wrong with it?"

"Nothing, it's just weird to see."

"You're weird." You snapped back.

"How am I weird?"

"You shoot weird."

"And you don't? I shoot better than you." He furrows his brows.

"No you don't."

"Fine, wanna play one more time? Unless you're a wuss and can't play cause of your knee." You rolled your eyes at the sudden change of events.

"I'll play you, I'm not a wuss. Unless you're afraid to lose to a girl." You taunt him as you both walk back to the court.

"Whatever, I'm not afraid cause I won't lose." He grabs the ball and checks it in. "My ball first."

"Sure, if you think that'll help."

And that's how Yoongi lost to you, busted knee and everything. From there, it was history. You became inseparable, Yoongi becoming a large part of your days and vice versa. His parents eventually became close to yours after the numerous times you both have been dropped off to hang out, or catching rides home after school. Yoongi lived in a nearby neighborhood, only being a good 7 minute walk, to be exact.

Second Quarter: High School, Senior Year

In high school, it became a little different. Yoongi grew up, played varsity basketball and became a fucking jock even though he claimed he would never. Yeah, bullshit. You too, played on the girls varsity basketball team, and surprisingly, you two kept each other close. It was a blessing and a curse though, because you couldn't see your life without Yoongi. He's been there since the 6th grade. However, girls took note of that shit. Trying to use you as their way in to Yoongi's heart, or pants, or both. You made it very clear though that you weren't interested in being a fucking messenger. Girls thought you were mean, but really, they just couldn't handle you. Hence, why you really couldn't relate and be one of them.

Yoongi was still the only person who could understand you and handle you, bad attitude and all. Tomboy habits and all. Not wanting to make friends and all.

"Jesus fucking christ, the day just started." Yoongi says as he watches you toss your duffle bag and backpack aggressively in the back seat of his car. "What's your deal?"

"Nothing, I'm just tired." You slump in his passenger seat after buckling your seat belt.

"Chill, don't start your day like this."

"Whatever, dad." You rolled your eyes, causing him to let out a pathetic chuckle.

"Are you coming to my game later?"

"Yeah, if I'm not too tired from practice."

"Y/N, I always make it to your games even if I'm tired."

"Do you?"

"The fuck? Yes I do. When haven't I?" His tone raises with yours. "Don't try and justify your shit by coming up with lies."

"Yeah, yeah bighead. You'll have plenty of cheerleaders there for you."

"Yeah and?" He smirks. "You're the one I'll be looking for though." He caresses your chin, making you smack his hand away while he laughs loudly.

"You're stupid." You groan as you sink lower in his seat. The rest of the ride to school, you shut your eyes and enjoy the peace before you're having to walk down those annoying, congested hallways.

People rave a lot about senior year, but it honestly hasn't felt special to you. Maybe because you kept the same routine since freshmen year, or maybe you really just didn't care as much as everyone else did about how "special" it was. You've always been locked in to basketball even if your mom wasn't a big fan of it. She wished you were more into cute, girly shit, like makeup, shopping, manis and pedis and dresses and heels, but she came to accept this was the way it was going to be. Especially because your dad was your biggest fan. You came to love basketball, more than just a side hobby. You joined the varsity team and practiced day in and day out. When basketball wasn't in season, you'd play with Yoongi at the park or sign up for camps and tournaments. You just wanted to keep bettering yourself so that you could play in college and get into the league post-grad. Yoongi was the same, and he may or may not have influenced your passion for ball. Either way, he was always supporting you and cheering for you even if the other females hated it.

His ex for sure hated the relationship you had with him even though you really steered clear when she was around. Wasn't your fucking problem or responsibility to take care of her insecurities. Same with his flings.

"Hey, so later, yeah?" He asks in between throwing nods and smiles to girls passing by.

"Mhm." You hum. "You gonna be free for lunch later?"

"I don't know. I know where to find you though if I am."

"Have a good day, punk."

"You too, bub. See you in English." He turns on his heel, walking towards his friends, aka his team members. Aka his jock ass group. Aka the ones females flock to.

Namjoon, Jimin, Eunwoo, Lucas.

They were all pretty boys who knew they were pretty boys and used that to their advantage to make big asshole moves. You hated that Yoonks got pulled in from time to time, but shit, it wasn't your life, you were only a small part of his. Sometimes, they also pulled in the football boys, Jungkook and Seokjin. Even the baseball boys, Hoseok and Taehyung. It was all a huge pretty boy, jock, asshole group in the making outside. A big fucking party for a lot of the girls at school, though.

So even if Yoongi was really the only one in your life, you weren't the only one in his. It is, what it is. As long as he doesn't go switching up on you, then whatever, so be it.

The first half of your classes go by quick, being that you enjoyed your chemistry, french and english classes. You had your english class with Yoongi, Namjoon and Hoseok. You had gotten to know Namjoon and Hoseok a little through it, and it was enough to know that they weren't all that bad. At least in this classroom setting.

"You two going to prom together?" Namjoon asks, making Yoongi snort.

"No, what the hell?" Yoongi responds.

"You guys can have fun at prom." You roll your eyes.

"You're really not gonna go?" Joon bites on the end of his pencil.

"No? The fuck I look like?"

"Y/N, I know it'd be weird as fuck to see you in a dress, but it's senior year. You didn't go last year, did you?" Namjoon asks from Yoongi's other side.

"Really, Namjoon?" You give him a look as if it could state the obvious.

"Well shit, I don't know. I know it's not your thing but can't really say I would have noticed either way." Hoseok laughs, causing you to throw your pen at his head before flicking him off.

"Miss Y/N!" Mrs. Maxwell calls you out mid-movie, eyes wide and in disbelief at how you're acting.

"What?! He started it." You slumped back in your seat and let out a sigh.

"Not another word." She says sternly.

"Not another word." You mock her under your breath.

"Aye, stop. You and that attitude boutta get in some trouble the last weeks of senior year." Yoongi puts his hand on your wrist, causing you to shake your head and click your teeth.

"Anyway, you should go." Hoseok whispers as he leans over on the table to look at you.

"No. Besides, with what date?"

"Take the basketball." Joon snickers.

"You're a complete dumbass, Namjoon. Stop talking." You snap.

"Maybe they're right, bub. It's senior year and it's coming to an end quick. I'd hate for you to regret it." Yoongi turns to you and says lowly.

"You know that won't happen." But really, part of you did feel a little bad. You knew it wasn't your scene, and you really didn't care what people thought of you when it came down to it. However, you always wondered what it would be like if someone liked you. If someone wanted you. Crushed on you so hard that they couldn't keep their hands off of you, couldn't stop thinking of you. Your first love. To feel pleasure, pain. Mixture of emotions simply by being in love. You wondered what it would be like to lose your virginity and have good, good sex. Besides, you were a human with needs. But the only person you have ever been close to was Yoongi. For the most part, you didn't see him that way because you knew he definitely didn't. But, you also couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to take your relationship to that point. If it was anyone, he would be the one you'd have feelings for. He would be your first kiss, your first everything. Because Yoongi was comfort and security for you.

But you valued your friendship more than anything.

"Just saying, think about it." He follows up.

"Think about getting an expensive dress and painful ass heals to wear for one night, just to dance around in 'em and take one professional pic with a date? Maybe get railed if I'm lucky?" You playfully wiggle your eyebrows making Yoongi shake his head.

"Don't be such a party pooper for once."

"Mmm. Great reasoning. Really convincing me here." You laugh it off even though in all honesty, you were thinking about it.

The bell rings and thank god it's finally lunch because you were fucking starving. Appetite and attitude on na-na, no doubt. You silently part ways with Yoongi to stop by your locker and grab your lunch. You make your way to the rowdy ass cafeteria, quickly scanning the room to catch a sight of Yoongi. You see him sitting on top of one of the lunch tables with Hoseok, Namjoon, Jimin and Taehyung sitting around him. Clearly, Yoongi wasn't free today.

"Wassup baby? Wanna trade that ball in for me?" Jimin says as you pass by their table to make your way outside to the bleachers. You flick him off before rolling your eyes and pretending to gag.

"Fuck off, Park." The group laughs except for Yoongi.

"Wonder if she's got that bad attitude in bed, too." Yoongi doesn't hesitate to smack Jimin upside the head because yeah, no matter what, he was gonna protect you as much as possible. "Owwww, I'm just kidding Yoongi."

"Don't let me hear you say that shit around me ever again."

"Fuck, I'm sorry. It was just a joke." Jimin winces as he rubs the back of his head.

"Damn Min Yoonks, why don't you take her ass to prom if it's like that?" Taehyung says, chewed up food coming into full view as he smacks loudly.

"Why don't you learn how to close your mouth first?" Yoongi spits back.

"Y/N is really rubbing off on you."

"It's manners, idiot. You should've been learned that." Namjoon says, laughing.

"But foreel, why won't you take her? You both are close, you've never seen her that way?" Hoseok asks making Yoongi shake his head in response.

"She's my bestfriend. I value her just the way she is, no more no less."

"Ah, you must have thought about it at least once." Yoongi keeps silent. Luckily, the group easily gets distracted and starts paying attention to Seokjin and Jungkook coming over as they talk about the dates they've scored for prom.

Yoongi has thought about it. Still does. Just like he is for you, you're the only one who understands him and takes him for who he is. You know the real him besides basketball player Yoongi. You're the only one who keeps it real. But he would rather keep it this way than ruin things between you and him. He'd hate to fuck up with you because he knows he can fuck up, there's no hiding from it. He'd never forgive himself if he lost you.

Practice is hell today for you and fuck, you really wanna just go home and lay down for the rest of the evening. Coach had you all running suicides and conditioning drills on the courts outside and pulling scrimmages against each other left and right. Let's not forget how coach is always on your ass right before a game too. Hell, she catches an attitude way worse than you before game time and after a loss. You wanted to avoid that at all costs. But, to avoid taking the bus home and instead hitching a ride with Yoongi, you throw on a hoodie and haul your ass to the gym in some nike slippers. You take a seat on a free end at one of the bleachers, holding Spalding in between your legs with your duffle next to you on the floor. The game is off to a start in about 5 minutes, Yoongi catches sight of you on the bleachers and nods. You give him a small smile as a gesture of good luck, which he reciprocates.

The game starts off intensely, both teams scoring closely even with the boys putting straight pressure. Towards the end of the first half, Yoongi and Eunwoo are the leading scorers, putting their team up by 10. Halftime is a bunch of hoo-haa, with cheerleaders in their itty bitty skirts, trying to shake their asses as they cheer for the boys. The boys don't even hide the fact that their ogling, and it's clear as day they all want some pussy. Quite frankly, they walk around thinking they deserve it cause of how hard they try to pull some wins and put the school on the map. Student government comes up for a bit too, pulling some kind of skit to weirdly promote prom. It makes you cringe and in all honesty, it makes you not wanna go even more, but it is your senior year. If you can snag a date, then maybe.

"Hey." Terra [not a cheerleader but still a pretty, popular chick] plops next to you with a smirk on her face. Immediately, you want no part in it because you already know what she's trying to do.

"Hi?"

"I'm just gonna cut straight to it. Do you know if Yoongi is seeing anyone?"

"How the hell would I know, Terra?" You furrow your brows at her.

"Because you're close to him, aren't you?"

"And? Doesn't mean I'm telling people his business. Besides, he's not obligated to tell me everything just cause we're close." She rolls her eyes.

"Whatever. Look, can you do me a favor and give this to him?" She tries handing you a little ass piece of paper folded neatly with a pink heart decorated on the front.

"Why don't you give it to him yourself?"

"That's no fun." You scoff and roll your eyes. Really, miss girl? "Be a doll for once, yeah?" She winks and slips the note in between your wrist and Spalding so it stays put. You take the note and eye it, letting out a deep sigh as you shove it into your pocket. You weren't in the mood to be extra rude today so you'll give it to him later when he drives you home.

The game finally finishes with Yoongi making a final three, the boys keeping their lead up by 10. Everyone cheers and showers the boys with love after the team has finished shaking hands and high-fiving their opponents. You stick around until the crowd dies down, watching Yoongi flirt with Terra as you swing your duffle bag strap onto your shoulder before slowly heading down the bleachers.

"Hey bighead, good game today." You lightly punch him against the chest.

"I knew you'd come."

"Shut up. I'll be at your car."

"For what?"

"Cause you're taking me home, punk."

"No please?"

"Please." He shakes his head and chuckles before you part ways to let him gather his things in the locker room. When you finally catch sight of his teeny head coming towards you from the gym, you hear him unlock his car to let you in while he continues to walk over.

"Fuuuuuck." He says, throwing his things in the back before buckling his seat belt and switching the gear into drive.

"You have fan mail." Yoongi looks over and sees you clutching the note Terra gave you.

"What's that, a condom?"

"You're sick. It's from Terra."

"Who's that again?" You make a face at him.

"You were just telling her sweet nothings earlier after the game?"

"Oh, Terra with the tig o' bitties. Got it." He shakes his head. "I wasn't telling her sweet nothings."

"Right. You're an absolute dipshit, you know?" You prop up a leg on the seat while you unfold the letter.

"Give it!" You move it away from his grasp and begin to read it out loud.

"Yoongi, you're honestly so hot. If you don't have a date for prom, I just want you to know that I'm free, and I promise I'll give you a good time if you take me." You cackle. "Boy, what the fuck is this? Ew."

"Shut up." He blushes before laughing along with you.

"Look at her, writing her coochie out on paper."

"She isn't."

"Oh, really? Pfft." You softly scoff. "So, are you taking her or what?"

"I don't know? Maybe, damn. What about you?"

"What about me, fool? I told you I'd think about it."

"Go with Jimin. He still doesn't have a date." He hates to say it with how much of an asshole Jimin can be, but if it meant you'd be at your senior prom then Yoongi will let it pass. He'll make sure Jimin doesn't try any slick shit.

"Ew, god no."

"Look, I'll make sure he doesn't go overboard. I promise."

"Why do you want me there so badly, Yoongi?"

"Because it's our last year in high school together and I'd really like to celebrate with you somehow." You sigh heavily.

"Fair enough. Let me sit on it."

"Better hurry and stop keeping that seat warm."

"Don't rush me." You punch his arm, causing a groan to erupt from him.

- - -

Really, you'd rather be anywhere than at prom with Park Jimin holding onto your waist the way he is for the pictures you're taking with him, Yoongi and the rest of their group and dates. After all the pictures and fake smiles, you feel him slowly slip his hand down your dress to try and get a grip on your ass, but before you could do so, you're grabbing his wrist with full pressure and making him wince.

"Don't you fucking dare or else I'll cut your dick off and throw it in a blender."

"Aish, ah, fuck! Okay, I'm kidding, let me go!" He whines lowly. You let go of his wrist after one more good squeeze, causing him to wiggle his hand to get the feeling back.

"Get me some punch, will you? My mouth is dry."

"You know, I might know something else that can help." Jimin wiggles his eyebrows as he continues to hold onto his wrist.

"You have got to be fucking kidding me."

"Or not. I'll be back." He accepts defeat by smiling from ear to ear before walking off. You sit off to the side, the heels a huge pain in the ass on top of Jimin already being a huge pain in the ass. You lean over on your knees, completely forgetting you have a short dress on, causing boys passing by to whistle and eye at the easy access.

"The fuck are you looking at? Keep it moving." Yoongi says pushing the guys forward before shooting you a look. "Y/N, really?"

"Shit sorry, I forgot. I'm not used to this." You sit up and adjust your dress before rubbing your arms at how self-conscious you suddenly [and unexpectedly] feel.

"Are you having fun at least?" He sits next to you, manspreading on the seat in the navy suit he has on.

"Mmm, sure." You slightly smile at him. "What about you? You actually took Terra, huh?"

"Yeah, it's pretty fun." He chuckles. "Don't lie, I saw you dancing a bit earlier."

"That's when the alcohol hadn't worn off yet." You snort, remembering Seokjin's older brother giving the group alcohol after all the parents were done taking their pictures of you all. Yoongi laughs along with you before he looks over and simply stares at you, hair all done, makeup done perfectly without it being too much. You in a dress.

"You look beautiful tonight, bub."

"You don't look too bad yourself, bubby." You blush before Jimin interrupts the moment with your cup of punch.

"Here, princess."

"You better not be trying anything slick, punkass." Yoongi says.

"Mm, don't worry. I haven't been able to." You kick his shin as you chug your punch, causing him to cough and choke on his own words. "I'd like to peacefully have this slow dance with you at least, damn." You swallow the last bits of punch before you're taking Jimin's hand to the floor. Yoongi watches as you two make your way to the dance floor for a slow dance, slightly regretting that he didn't just ask you to dance.

"Let's dance, babe." Terra's baby voice comes out as she pulls him up from the seat to find a spot on the dance floor. Yoongi is honestly tired of having to keep up with Terra's energy and her clingy ass, but nonetheless, he was happy you were around for prom.

He was really happy you were around for prom, even though you hated this shit more than anything.

He had you in full view ahead, and so did you. He couldn't help but direct his attention towards you and keep his eyes on you. Fuck, he has never seen anyone so beautiful until you walked through Seokjin's doors with Jimin. Look, let's get this straight. Even though you had your own way of expressing yourself, he always loved your natural beauty, your natural glow. He loved watching you on the court and how happy it made you to play ball. He remembers every accomplishment, every milestone you've reached. How you've grown tremendously as a ball player. He would never admit it to you in person, but he definitely admires how you push yourself and how you always do what you can to improve. Hell, you might just be the better player between the both of you. And when you catch him looking over, he doesn't even try and hide it. He doesn't even care that he's still holding onto Terra and slow dancing with her.

Something within you flips. You feel that shit in the pit of your stomach, at the heat of your core.

But, you brush it off and break eye contact first, even if he doesn't stop staring. This couldn't happen, no. This was your bestfriend. You weren't gonna let the things you felt get in the way of that.

Nope.

Suddenly, the song changes to something more upbeat and twerkable, Jimin taking the opportunity to spin you around and grind on you. You really need a distraction anyway, something to rid you of those god awful thoughts about your bestfriend, so you let him and you have fun with it. Everyone around you is having fun anyway, and fuck, you wouldn't have to do this ever again so fuck it.

"Let me get a dance with my bestfriend." Yoongi says to Jimin.

"Go dance with your date!"

"Shut up and switch for a second!" Yoongi says, pushing him off of you so he could get behind and dance with you.

"Yoonks, what the hell?" You laugh.

"Go with it, bub. It's fucking senior year, we're graduating soon." You go with his movements, having the time of your life with everyone around you as prom quickly comes to a close.

When you get into Jimin's car, you knock off your heels as he continues to talk nonstop about the night. Jimin was a cutie but god, you could not stand his mindset for the life of you. You were grateful he had agreed to take you to prom, but damn. Prom was done and all you wanted was some peace and quiet.

"I hope you had fun with me tonight." You give him a toothless smile before slipping your heels back on.

"I did, thank you for taking me. Really." He smiles from ear to ear before leaning over near your seat.

"Can I get just one good smooch for the night?" You look at him before you smirk and lean over near his lips.

"Sure." You whisper.

"Oh fuck, this is actually happening."

"Close your eyes, I know you don't fucking kiss with your eyes open. What are you doing?"

"Right. Sorry." He closes his eyes and puckers his lips. You lean in a little closer, feeling his breath against your lips.

Then you flick his nose.

"Ouch!"

"Peace out, Park." You throw open his door to step out and shut it behind you to quietly walk into your house.

The lights are off and your parents are already tucked into the room for the night, leaving you a note on the fridge reminding you to make sure all the doors are locked before retreating to your room. You do as you're reminded before quietly shutting your door and tossing your heels to the side. You let the pins down from your hair, ruffling it around a bit and relieving any pressure on your head. Before turning away from your dresser, you notice a letter from the one university you had been waiting on. You had been waiting to hear back from Stanford for the longest time, and quite frankly, you had been upset you hadn't heard especially when their scouts were at your game awhile ago.

You had broken down to your parents, to Yoongi, automatically assuming the worst when you heard that other people had already been accepted and scouted for Stanford. Suddenly, you found yourself working harder and harder because you felt like you were lacking in so many areas. You felt low, and like your dream was running miles and miles away from you. Faster than you could keep up.

You take the letter in your hand, but don't want to open it because you don't feel ballsy enough [surprisingly]. You call up Yoongi, not caring that he could possibly be in the middle of getting his dick wet.

"Sup?"

"Are you busy?"

"I was just about to walk into my house."

"Oh, nevermind."

"Need me to come by?"

"I got a letter from Stanford."

"Shit, I'll be there in 2 mins."

And in 2 minutes, he surely was knocking at your window. You slide it up enough for him to climb in, Yoongi still in his prom get-up as well.

"Here." You instantly hand him the letter.

"What, why me? It should be you."

"I can't, I really can't." He sighs.

"Are you sure you won't regret this?"

"No, bub. Please." You sit on the bed and fiddle with your fingers as you watch him rip the envelope open and tear out the letter. You can't even keep your eyes on him as he reads the letter and starts backing away from you.

"Shit."

"What? What?!" You stand, trying your best to keep your tone low. He covers his mouth, causing you to pinch his bicep at how dramatic he was being. "Just say it!"

"You're not going." Your heart sinks, but before you could process it, Yoongi speaks up again. "To any other college because Stanford wants you."

"I'm going to fucking kill you!" You whisper and shove him.

"Congrats, bubby. Guess we'll be together in college too." Your eyes widen.

"Y-you're going? T-to Stanford?" He smiles and nods.

"Yeah, I am."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Look, I just wanted to give you your space. That's all. I found out before you went all cry baby on me."

"Shut up." You say before laughing and jumping into his arms, throwing your legs around his torso while he swings you around. As he sets you back down onto your bedroom floor, your hands linger around his neck, gently tugging on the hair that rested there. He keeps you close, his hands resting around your waist as your chests are still touching. You honestly have no idea what takes over you— perhaps all the feelings you felt tonight at prom taking over, or feeling overjoyed from finally hearing back from Stanford, you couldn't decide. But you crash your lips against his, immediately pulling back after you realized you've just kissed your bestfriend.

You just had your first fucking kiss through accidental causes.

Well, shit.

Was it accidental or no?

Mind is going off on a tangent.

"Woah. I'm so sorry, Yoonks, I—" He doesn't allow for any space between you two, keeping your body flush against his as his lips crash onto yours again to cut you off. To be quite honest, things are moving fast and the kiss deepens quick. You follow his motions, gaining some rhythm as your tongue dances along with his in the [now] wet, sloppy kiss.

"Wait, Y/N." He pulls away as the moment intensifies. "A-are you sure you wanna keep going? To be honest, I don't know if I'll be able to hold myself back and I know you haven't exactly—" He knows it would be your first time and he wasn't sure how he felt about it. I mean, sure, he loved you. You were special to him. But he wanted to make sure your first time was also special, whether it be him or whoever else.

"Please. I want this. I wanna do this with you."

By the looks of tonight, it seems like it's meant to be him.

You press your lips back onto his with the same intensity and start to unbutton his shirt when you feel his hands hike up your dress. He gently pushes you on the bed, crawling over to you as he kicks off his shoes and finishes ripping off his shirt and tie. He slowly removes the straps of your dress down your shoulders and undoes the zipper on the side before slipping it down and leave you in your panties.

You had no bra on.

Yoongi's eyes widen when he realizes such, your cheeks heating up while you watch him stare down your body. You begin to feel incredibly self-conscious so you cover your chest with an arm. Yoongi senses your uneasiness, your confidence shooting down below zero.

"You're beautiful, bub. Don't." He says, gently tugging your arm away and letting it fall limply to the side. You simply nod and let him take the reigns because you had no idea what the fuck you were doing. So many emotions were flooding your mind— you were nervous, you were scared, you were shy, you felt lost and too innocent under Yoongi, even if he knew you like the back of his hand.

And because of that, he could pick up on it with the way your body continued to tense up. He shook off his pants, leaving on his boxers until you were ready for him. Cause fuck, he was ready for you, but he had to take this slow. He had to take care of you.

He lowers himself onto you after the two of you have climbed under the sheets, lowering his head against your neck to press light, feathery kisses along the surface. You felt the tingles shoot down your spine every time his lips made contact, causing you to softly gasp and arch your back at how sensitive you were already feeling.

"If you ever feel uncomfortable, just tell me to stop okay?" He says lowly. You nod in response, Yoongi taking it as leverage to plant a kiss on your lips before moving down to your breasts. He keeps his eyes on you, making sure you don't seem uncomfortable in the slightest bit. But you don't, and it's indicated in the way you bite your bottom lip and arch your back at the way his tongue wraps around your hardened bud. He does the same on the other breast before peppering kisses down your stomach and abdomen.

"Yoongi." You slightly gasp, shy at how unusually close he is to your lady friend.

"What's wrong? Want me to stop?" His thumbs gently caressed your thighs as his head hovered over your pelvis. You shake your head and nervously swallow before speaking once more.

"I-I'm just scared, what if you don't like—"

"Shh." He shushes you. "You're everything to me, you know that. You don't have to change just so I could enjoy you in bed. I'll take good care of you, bub. I promise."

"O-okay." He nods, placing a kiss over your clothed clit before pulling them down to get lost within your sheets. He swipes a finger down your folds, causing your breathing to hitch slightly. You watch as he slowly inserts the same digit inside of you, biting onto his bottom lip watching your facial expressions turn from uncertainty to straight pleasure. "Another." You moan.

"You sure?"

"Yes, please." He inserts another digit, curling his fingers upward as he starts to finger fuck you at a steady pace.

"Shit, you're so wet Y/N." He says lowly before lowering his mouth onto you to get a taste and tease your clit. You gasp at the overwhelming sensation, feeling the pleasure bubbling in your core and you had no idea how to deal with it. He picks up his pace while tonguing your clit and sucking at the right pressure until suddenly, you short circuit and tremble under his grip. You purse your lips together to prevent yourself from moaning too loud with your parents at the other end of the hall [jesus fucking christ], knuckles turning white as you grip the sheets tightly.

Your first orgasm came and washed over you quick.

"Did you just—" He removes his digits from inside of you, drooling at your cum accumulating all over his fingers.

"Holy fuck." You whisper as you regulate your breathing, twitching when Yoongi places a quick kiss on your pussy before coming back up to you.

"How was that?"

"So good. Wanna feel you." You whine, tugging him down towards you.

"I got you, bubby." He says, kissing your jaw, cheek, nose and lips. He reaches over into his pants on the floor, grabbing a condom out of his pocket. You furrow your brow and chuckle, confused if this was something he always did.

"You just carry that around?"

"The guys and I split on a box and carried one each for tonight. Just in case."

"Total fucking assholes." He chuckles.

"Better safe than not, right?" He rips it open with his teeth, spitting the wrapper out onto the floor before rolling it down his cock. He was perfectly thick and long, and it made you a nervous wreck all over again thinking about how this could feel. "Ready? I'll go slow." You nod. You immediately felt immense pressure when you felt Yoongi dip his body and slowly enter you. You winced, Yoongi immediately pausing until you tapped his arm to continue. And so he does, and you continue to breathe through it until he bottoms out and lets out a soft groan against your neck. "Fuck, you're so tight bub. God, you're gonna make me cum quick." He slowly pumps in and out, steadying his pace when he feels you buck your hips up to go along with his motions.

The pleasure skyrocketed; You shut your eyes, letting yourself be in this moment. Feel this moment.

He picks it up a little faster, careful not to bang your headboard against the wall. His forehead is pressed against yours, watching as you let out soft whimpers against his lips.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck. Yoongi-Yoongi—" You whispered. "You're gonna make me—" It was becoming overwhelming, your clit rubbing against him as he steadied his pace and continued to fuck into you. He nods, pressing a kiss against your forehead.

"Yeah, that's it. Let go. It's okay." And that was enough for you to reach your second orgasm tonight. Quick, but fuck. Yoongi made you feel so good, and you wouldn't want it any other way. You shut your eyes as you hurdled over the edge, mouth open with silent, inaudible moans being released. "So fucking pretty." Yoongi says as he feels himself reaching his high with the way your walls pulsated against his cock.

God. So, so good.

He holds onto the headboard and quickly fucks into you until he's spilling his seed in the condom, muffled moans being released against the crook of your neck. It takes a moment before Yoongi raises his head, your hands running through his black hair while he presses a tender kiss against your lips. He slowly removes himself, wrapping the condom in a tissue before tossing it into your trash can. He plops next to you and welcomes you into his arms, caressing you to soothe you from your first time.

"You okay?"

"More than okay." You say, the both of you trying to savor the moment before trying to navigate where to go from here.

What now?

Third Quarter: College, Junior Year (Present)

You bent down, hands resting against your knees as you tried to catch your breath during the timeout Coach Chu had called with 5.2 seconds literally left on the clock. He laid out the play he wanted you and the team to pull off in order to gain the win over Berkeley.

It had to be executed perfectly. No flaws.

Coach Chu had been riding your ass since you were a freshman. But, over the years, you've learned how to work through his tough love and turn it into positives, bettering yourself on and off the floor. It paid off, and he saw the fire in you, finally moving you up to starting point guard right before the season ended. Some team members hated it at first, but eventually, grew to work with it as well.

The plan was to have you come down into the paint and lay up the ball or take a shot at the very last second to avoid Berkeley from getting another chance at scoring. Sometimes you hated the pressure, but you've also learned that a big part of playing ball was thriving under pressure.

Your team closes up the huddle before you and your teammates are heading back out onto the floor to try and get this win. You shake off the nerves, bouncing the ball out of bounds until you check it in with your teammate. After that— it was like a blur. Shit happened so quick, you couldn't even process it. You passed the ball and dashed over to the other side of the court while your teammate put up a screen. You rose your hand as you ran into the paint, adrenaline rushing through your veins as you awkwardly lay up the ball in the position you were in and stumble onto the ground from losing your footing. You turn your head as the buzzer went off, noticing that the ball had bounced off the rim.

You missed a fucking lay up.

How could you miss a fucking lay up?

"Fuck!" You cry as you sit up and smack the floor.

"Aye, it's all good girl! Ain't a big deal! You win some, you lose some! We still got a ways to go!" Your teammate [roommate, and closest college friend] Clarice said as she helped you up. She was right, but every loss to you was a big loss no matter what. Coach was for sure gonna drill you about this too, and you were already mentally preparing.

"Thanks." You mumble. You look out at the disappointed crowd slowly dispersing, wishing you could still catch a familiar face in the crowd.

But, Yoongi hadn't been to your game in years. So you thought. You never caught him if he ever stepped foot into your game.

Your head hung low as the familiar feeling of pain and loneliness came rushing back while you headed to the locker room. Too bad you didn't see him hiding out on the side of the bleachers with Lucas.

"Y/N, a word." Coach Chu says, leading you into his office.

Fuck, here we go.

You shut the door behind you and stand awkwardly in front of his desk, fiddling with your fingers.

"Look, I just want to say that you put on hell of a show tonight, win or lose. We still have plenty of games left, plenty of opportunities to lock in play-offs. Alright? Don't be upset."

"Thanks Coach." You give him a tiny smile.

"Are you doing okay?"

"Uh, yeah. I think so."

"What's on your mind?"

"Nothing coach, just been a hectic couple of weeks." In which, it was no lie. You crammed for test after test, project after project. You barely had any time to breathe this year.

"Well, my door is always open if you need to chat." You nod. "I'll see you at practice. Enjoy your night."

"Thanks again." You say as you exit his office and get yourself showered and into comfier clothes.

Meanwhile, Yoongi heads back to his dorm room alongside Lucas, hands dug deep into his pockets while his head hung low.

"You ever gonna talk to her?"

"I don't know." He sighs. "Pretty sure I fucked up any chance of that."

"Look, dude. You haven't really been the same since you and Y/N fell out." Yoongi stays silent as they slowly climb the steps up to their room. "Why are you just gonna leave it like this? It's been so long already. Doesn't it bother you?"

"Positive she doesn't want me around." Lucas shakes his head.

"You haven't even tried. You just gave up and that shit is cold, to be honest. I know Y/N always held it down for you, I would have expected you to do the same." The words cut through Yoongi so deep, he doesn't even know how to respond and leaves it at that.

As you heavily dragged your body back to the dorms and took your sweet ol' time, your mind began to wander back to Yoongi as well. After he had taken your virginity that night, things took a turn for the worst.

He treated you differently, created this distance that allowed you to grow farther and farther apart from each other until he was no longer in your grasp and vice versa.

You went from Yoongi being a part of your every day to nothing. And fuck, did it hurt you. You cried and cried, until you were so tired of crying. You had to pick yourself up and keep it moving no matter what. Life waits for nobody.

You reminisce on those days of debating over who could really be considered the greatest. Although, you did pay your respects to the bigs, the greats— Kobe, Magic, MJ, Lebron— you paid respect where it was rightfully due. However, Derrick Rose at his prime? Rajon Rondo? Chris Paul?

Hell, even Baron Davis, Monte Ellis. Rookie Steph Curry? Shiiit. They were it for you, and Yoongi used to dog your ass on how unrealistic you were being.

That was all gone.

He must be having a ball watching Steph climb up those charts now, though. You wonder what he would say to you.

The days of going to basketball games, to each other's basketball games, to ordering hella pizza and creating chaos in either house over the dunk contest during the NBA All Star Week or yelling all around the living room and jumping on couches during the NBA playoff season and championship games— All gone.

If you knew this would drastically change you and Yoongi, you would have never let that night happen. You continued to put on your brave face, your thick, tough skin even though deep down, it took everything in you to suppress the hurt, betrayal and confusion. Even after all these years.

He meant everything to you. Did you not to him? You could never understand until this day. How could he dispose of you so, so quickly?

You see him on campus and quickly break any eye contact, or run the opposite way. You were tired of doing this even though you felt like you needed closure. Some explanation. You deserved it. But you weren't gonna initiate that. Even if Yoongi did, you don't even know if things could ever go back to the way it was. He promised he would never hurt you, but he has. He still is hurting you. The wounds— it cut deep. Deeper than he could ever imagine.

"Hello?" You smile, hearing your dad on the other line.

"Hey dad."

"Hey baby! How was your game? I'm sorry I couldn't catch it tonight, work kept me behind." You sigh.

"Eh, it's probably good you didn't. Didn't turn out so well." He picks up on how your voice cracks ever so slightly, enough to indicate that you were trying your hardest not to break down about your performance. "I missed the winning shot."

"Oh sweetheart, you'll get 'em next time. You always do. You still have a couple of games left don't you?"

"Yeah, but it doesn't change the fact that I played shitty as hell tonight."

"There's always room for improvement, only way to go is up from here right?" He says softly, making you smile. "You'll get 'em next time, I have no doubt. You always know how to better yourself even when I think you've already reached your highest potential."

"Thanks Dad. You always were my number one fan."

"I still am." He chuckles. "How's everything else? School?"

"Fine." He always has to stop himself from asking about Yoongi, even to ask if there's been the slightest change to your relationship.

"You sure?"

"Course." You lie.

"Alright, well you know me and your mom are here for you if you need anything."

"I know."

"I'll let you go and get some rest, alright? Don't be so hard on yourself."

"Mmm, I'll try." You chuckle. "I love you."

"Love you too. And hey, baby?"

"Yeah?"

"Always remember that you deserve everything good in this world. If someone can't handle you at your worse, they sure as hell don't deserve you at your best."

"Thank you." You smile as if your dad can see you through the phone before hanging up and unlocking your dorm door.

"Sigma Nu party going on tonight, wanna come and slide through?" Clarice asks as she watches you toss your duffle aside.

"I'm tired, not in the mood."

"So aren't I, but I think we both need it. Come on girl, just for a little." You sigh. Clarice had also been there by your side since you both were freshmen recruits. One day, she came into the room and found you a crying mess, causing her to wrap her arms around you and craddle you until you calmed down. You had spilled the beans about Min Yoongi, especially when he quickly became the talk of the campus as a ladies man and one of the best freshmen recruits Stanford has ever seen. You hated it, but a part of you still found yourself happy that he was getting the recognition he deserved as a ball player.

He wasn't the tallest, or the biggest, but boy had heart and played every game like it was his last. You had been his number one fan, and even though you hated him, that fact would never change.

Anyways, without Clarice, you weren't sure where you'd be. Definitely not here because you'd be too busy running away from your past and all the issues that came with it.

Yeah, yeah. Go ahead and say it. You would be stupid enough to not go to your first choice just because of a stupid boy.

"Fine, fine. I'm leaving as soon as someone wants to start acting up and getting all crazy though."

"Deal." She chuckles. You've learned how to dress up a little more— and by a little we mean baggy sweats, a crop tight fitting tee and chapstick. No way in hell you'd get dolled up for a party. Out of the years you've already been here, you probably went to two parties. One being the party Coach Chu threw at his house for a record-breaking season. The other was a legit party that you stepped foot in for all of 2 seconds before you figured it was time to head home, especially after seeing Yoongi hugged up with some chick and disgustingly tonguing her down while groping her ass.

Shit, you were never gonna get used to it.

The frat house is fucking packed and wreaks of weed even down the corner. You and Clarice push your way through, greeting people who were acknowledging your presence and waving at your other teammates that were also present.

"More basketball babes have arrived, let's go!" One of the frat guys cheers as you and Clarice make your way to the kitchen where all the alcohol is laid out.

"One shot?" She asks as she already has her hand wrapped around the Svedka handle.

"One and done." You tell her. You shouldn't have let her pour the shot though because now, you're stuck with nasty ass vodka near the halfway mark of the cup. "Clarice, what the fuck is this?"

"It's called savoring our one."

"You're fucked up." You joked as you tap your cup against hers and take the shot in three chugs. "Really fucked up." You wince.

"Come, lets go see what the other girls are up to and hang out for a bit." You follow her lead to the corner of the living room, chatting it up with your team before dancing around in the little corner you all occupied— keeping as far away as possible from sloppy and messy dudes.

You turned to eye the crowd at some point, catching Yoongi coming down the stairs, a female following from behind holding his hand. Then, they disappear to the outside of the house. You swallow the lump in your throat, the room feeling hotter than it already was.

Why he still had this affect on you, you had no idea.

Clarice and your teammates are too busy cracking jokes that they don't realize you've slipped away to get some air. You're finding that the crowd has come bigger in the short amount of time you've been here and navigating through it has become difficult. You're having to bob, weave and shove your way out, letting out a sigh the closer you get to the front of the house. You're also really glad you've been able to steer clear from—

"Shit, my bad." You unintentionally bump into someone making your way to the front from the side of the house due to you keeping your head low.

"Y/N?" You whip your head around to see Yoongi raising a brow, dropping his arm from the same chick's shoulders.

"Hi." You give him a fake, tight-lipped smile and rush your way to the front of the house. Thank god you finally make it because you were starting to feel claustrophobic, even being outside. However, you weren't prepared for Yoongi to come after you and grab your wrist the way he did.

"Wait, I didn't expect you to be here." Out of defense, you quickly snatch your wrist away from his grip and furrow your brows at him.

"Yeah, and now I'm leaving."

"Why, hang out for a bit—"

"And what, Yoongi? Watch you be the life of the party? Watch you walk around all fine and dandy like shit never happened between us?" You feel the tears welling up on your bottom lids, but you promised yourself you would never cry over him again. You refuse to. He had already taken up so much of you that you refuse to give him any more.

"Is that what you really think?" He says, the hurt apparent in his expression. To be frank, no. Yoongi really, really never meant to hurt you. And just like he had mentioned before, he would never forgive himself if he ever hurt you. He hasn't forgiven himself. He hasn't forgiven himself for how he let you slip out of his grasp when it was his own fault for pushing aside his feelings for you. He thought the world of you, the only woman who kept it real with him and stuck by him through the highest of highs, lowest of lows. There was no one as special as you, no one who could ever be as special as you, no matter how many times he tried to sink his dick into other females.

No one was real like you.

But, he was also conflicted because of that. He felt like he couldn't give you the love you rightfully deserved, he didn't think he could love you properly. He had so much to learn and he didn't wanna hurt you in the process. It sounds so fucking stupid [because it is] that he thought distancing himself was better than just being honest. He was a dumbass high schooler, he didn't know any better. But, he never meant to make you feel special for one night, then run from it. You were always special to him. You had always been. You always will be. And these past years hurt like a bitch, but he coudn't find the words to explain. Eventually, he just believed he would do less damage if you both remained distant this way.

Although, he longed for you. He really needed you just as you needed him. He always has, always will.

So when the two of you bump into each other tonight, he felt like maybe, it was a sign. Maybe it was time to stop being childish.

God, he missed your face.

God, he was a fucking asshole.

"No, I'm not doing this shit." You shake your head. "Just— continue to stay away from me, okay? I'm better off without you." The words sting you, but it doesn't sting you as much as it stings Yoongi. You glare at him once more before you turn on your heel and begin walking down the street to head back to your dorm.

"Y/N! Wait up!" Clarice calls for you, eyeing Yoongi as she passes him to catch up with you down the street. "Hey, hey. You okay?" She swings her arm around you when she catches you silently crying to yourself. "What did he do, Y/N?"

"He fucking exists, that's what." You groan. "Ugh, fuck! I'm not supposed to be crying over his dumbass, I'm better than this Clarice— Why the fuck am I crying over it?" You break down, crouching down to your knees, causing Clarice to hover over you and pull you into a hug.

"Maybe you just need to let it out and stop forcing yourself to not feel anything."

"I hate him, I hate him, I hate him." You bawled into your arms. "I hate him so much." She caressed your back. "But he still finds a way to mean so much to me."

"I think it's time for you two to talk."

"I can't. It's just better this way."

"Are you sure? Because look at you, Y/N. You're a mess, and this hasn't even been the first time you broke down about him. As much as you want to believe that you're fine without him, you're not. He was your bestfriend and I think you need him more than you even know yourself."

"He's doing fine without me."

"You don't know that, baby. Dudes are annoying as fuck because they can literally go on about their day and mask that shit well. If he's ready, let him explain. Hear him out. You both may be misunderstanding the entire situation." It takes you a good minute before you can finally gather yourself and make it back to your dorm room with Clarice.

She was right.

But you were so angry more than anything. You were angry and you weren't sure how you could get past it.

He left your side. 

And so the next day, you go about your day in class, staying quieter than usual during practice. For the most part, Coach Chu was always on your ass because of how vocal you were and how much you caught an attitude when things didn’t go the way you'd like it to. So, to see you this quiet, almost sullen even, concerns him. But, he already pressed you once and he wasn't gonna do it again to avoid irritating you any further.

You run the usual conditioning drills, practicing play by play before a final scrimmage game for the night. You push yourself hard like you always do, almost coming out of practice dry heaving from how tired you are. It was your bad habit though, you wouldn't quit until you got it right. Until you felt right. And unfortunately, it's another one of those nights where you feel unsatisfied with your performance. So, you take it upon yourself to continue practicing in the empty gym that was set to close within the next hour. You're tired out of your mind, and you know this is probably a bad idea, but you can't shake off the feeling of dissatisfaction. To you, that was the next worst thing. Right behind Yoongi.

You begin to work on your three pointers, lay ups and shots out of range before you start to play a scrimmage game with yourself.

"I'll play you." You suddenly hear, the sweat beads dripping down your forehead at this point. You watch Yoongi as he drops his water bottle off at the side of the court before walking over to you.

"Go away."

"Afraid you'll lose?"

"No, I just don't wanna play your ass." You shot up the ball, only for it to bounce off the backboard and land in Yoongi's hand.

"Ball up. Let's play till 10."

"Why the hell do you wanna play me, Yoongi? Don't you have a random chick to bone?"

"I'm clearly standing right in front of you aren't I? Quit fucking talking and play." He aggressively passes you the ball to check it in, you following suit, making the ball damn near bounce off of his chest with how hard you pass it back. He knew exactly how to rile you up.

You get into the zone quickly, trying to find some kind of redemption for the way you had been feeling lately. Redemption, validation, way to take the edge off— anything, really. It was only until the first person scored to 10, but Yoongi was putting up one hell of a fight, jet black hair parted down the middle and matted to his forehead from the sweat building up. You take the lead, sitting at 8 while Yoongi sat at a sad 6 points.

"Ball." You call out as you scored a layup, ramming yourself against the padded wall with the force you had put up.

"That's 10."

"Ball, Yoongi." You huffed and puffed.

"Stop, don't overwork yourself. You just got—"

"Suddenly you care? Stop being a pussy and pass me the goddamn ball." He furrows his brows as he passes you the ball, crouching down to meet you at eye level to try and guard you. You run towards the right of the court, pulling a pump fake before you pivot to get away from Yoongi's guard. You pivot hard and drive it up to the basket, only to fall on the wrong footing and twist your ankle on the way down. "Ouch, fuck!"

"Shit, Y/N!" Yoongi comes to your side, hand supporting your back as the other is on your ankle.

"I'm fine, leave me—"

"Stop being so fucking stubborn and let me help you." He says angrily. You don't say anything else while you fix your position on the floor. "Can you wiggle it at least?"

"Y-yeah." You wince as you wiggle your foot and roll it around a couple of times. Phew, at least this shit wasn't gone for good. But Coach Chu still wouldn't be happy to hear you sprained your ankle releasing your anger on Yoongi during a dumb game. Yoongi helps you stand, arm around your waist as he throws your arm around his neck and holds you steady by the wrist.

"Try walking on it."

"I can, but it hurts a little." Yoongi sighs.

"You just sprained it. Let's go get you some ice or something at the nursing center before going back to your dorm." You silently nod as you hang onto Yoongi for extra support, careful not to make the situation any worse than it already is. He has you sit on the chair within the nursing center, the nurse coming over to wrap your ankle nicely before giving you crutches and some instant hot compress to pop onto it. She orders for security to drive you two over to the dorm building in their go-cart so that you wouldn't have to do much walking on your foot while you focused on healing.

Yoongi doesn't leave your side, even after you've walked into your dark, empty dorm room, not really knowing where Clarice is at right now [possibly library]. He shuts your door and sits you on the edge of your bed, setting your crutches near your bed side and your instant hot compress.

"You need anything else?" Your head hangs low as you slightly chuckle and shake your head.

"Why are you doing this?" You ask him lowly before looking back up at him, tears clouding your vision. "Hm? Why, Yoongi?"

"You're hurt, why wouldn't I—"

"Hmm." You hum. "I'm hurt? So where the fuck were you after prom night? When I was hurt then, where the fuck have you been?" You began to cry.

"Y/N." His tongue swipes over his lips before he sighs. "I'm sorry." He says, close to a whisper.

"Are you? Because I don't think you really understand how bad you hurt me." You aggressively wipe away your tears while continuing to look at him, his body language soft and full of regret. "You didn't care about me."

"How could you say that? I cared—" He sighs as his head drops for a second. "I care about you more than you know."

"If you did then why the fuck was it so easy for you to drop me the way you did?!" You yelled. "You just don't do that to the people you care about, especially if it’s your bestfriend."

"Look, you're right. I have no excuse for the way I acted, and if I could turn back time to re-do it, I would. But I can't, and the only thing I can do is apologize and do my best to make it up to you." His bottom lip trembles as he steps closer to you, a small frown forming at the corners of his mouth.

"Yoongi." You cried. "I did everything for you, I stuck by you through everything, even during the times you didn't deserve that shit from me. But I stayed! I stood by you because you meant everything to me and god—" You groaned. "I needed you. I needed you and you weren't there! I fucking hate you for doing this shit to me but part of me will always have love for you no matter how fucked up the situation is. I will always drop everything for you. I will always care about you, and it's so unfair." It broke Yoongi's heart and he didn't know what to say, but he wraps his arms around you anyway, keeping you in a tight hug against his chest. He's surprised that you let him, even more surprised at how he feels your body soften under his touch.

"Fuck, I'm so, so sorry bub." He says lowly as he presses a kiss on top of your head. "I'm so sorry."

"Please don't ever go again." You cry against his chest.

"No, I'm not. I'm gonna be right here." He says hugging you tighter. "You're the only one who's ever understood me, who's ever kept it real with me. I don't deserve you, but I know damn sure I'll work hard to make up for letting you go in the first place." He places another kiss on top of your head. "I'm right here. Not going anywhere. I'm so sorry."

- - -

5.

4.

3.

2.

1.

"THE STANFORD BOYS TAKE THE CHAMPIONSHIP!" The commentator screams into his mic, Yoongi running a lap around the court before he's cheering loudly with his teammates and joining the group hug. You run down the bleachers, dashing straight into Yoongi's arms while he swings you around.

"That's what I'm fucking talking about!" You squeal and giggle as Yoongi places you back down and plants multiple kisses around your face, hands resting on the small of your back.

"Let's get out of here." He whispers in your ear.

"I'll wait at your car, bighead." You wink, causing him to smile that gummy smile of his that you adore more than life itself.

There's obviously a huge party going on tonight to celebrate this huge achievement, but Yoongi says he doesn't wanna join for once. He's happy, yeah. But the way he wants to celebrate is in peace. After so long, he feels like he can finally say he's content with where his life is at and where it's going. He drives over to the nearest beach, backing into a space so the both of you could sit in the back and try catching all the shooting stars up above. Yoongi leans against the side of the trunk, allowing you to lay your head on his lap while you curled up beside him listening to the waves slowly crash against the sand.

"Saw one." He says, looking up at the sky.

"You're a punk, no you didn't."

"What?" He laughs. "How are you about to say that? I caught it with my own two eyes."

"Oop! I saw one!"

"Now that's a lie. I was looking up too."

"Shut up." You laugh, causing Yoongi to tickle you along the sides before he stops and plants a kiss on your lips. It's silent for a minute while the two of you take in the night view— The sky and ocean coming together as one, forming a view that seemed endless.

"Hey."

"Hm?" You hum as Yoongi's fingers gently brush through your hair.

"You know I love you right?"

"Ew with the sappy shit, Min Yoongi." He laughs.

"Seriously."

"I know." You smile up at him. "I love you too."

"Come here." He says softly, tugging you upwards. You sit up, allowing Yoongi to press his lips against yours. He pulls you in by your shirt, having you straddle his lap while he grips onto your hips and immediately grinds against you. You let out a small moan feeling how quickly he hardened, his cock hitting you in the right places as you continue to grind on him. "Fuck, wanna feel you babygirl."

"Here?"

"Yeah." He chuckles and bites onto his bottom lip.

"What, all of a sudden you're scared?"

"Fuck off." You fire back, releasing his hardened member from its confines as you stroke him gently. He tilts his head back in pleasure before tugging your shorts and panties to the side, enough for him to cop a feel of how wet you are.

"Baby's all wet."

"What're you gonna do about it?" You whisper against his lips, biting onto his bottom lip and pulling back slightly. He hisses at the sensation before he moves your hand from his cock and takes control. He pushes you upward, positioning you enough to line up with your entrance.

"Take this shit off."

"Yoongi, we're in public."

"So, you're all talk and no play."

"I hate you."

"Nobody's here." He groans. "Just take off your shorts, pleeease." He begs as he slowly strokes himself. You toss aside your shorts, Yoongi immediately hooking his finger at the bottom of your panties and tugging it aside in order to push himself into you. He does enough before he lets you do the rest of the work and sink down on his length, a gasp leaving your throat as you take all of him in. He grips your hips tightly, setting the pace as he groans into your neck, your fingers tangled in his hair resting at the nape of his neck.

"Shit, babe." You moan as you tilt your head back.

"Fuck, you always ride me so well." He presses light kisses against your neck before he's nipping at the surface.

"Godddd why do you feel so good?" You whimper.

"You like how I feel inside of you?" You nod. "Yeah? Like how my cock fills you up?"

"Never gonna get tired of it." You moan, Yoongi making you pick up the pace aggressively. Besides the waves crashing, the lewd noises of skin slapping against skin fills the car, along with your soft moans and Yoongi's groans. Your clit is constantly rubbing against him, causing the pleasure to build so quickly it becomes overwhelming. You try to hold off as much as you can but—

"My pretty baby. All I fucking need." He almost growls, the words enough to send you over the edge. You let out a loud moan, not even caring for the houses nearby as your orgasm hits hard and ripples throughout your body, sending aftershocks. Yoongi continues to have you ride him fast and hard, the overwhelming sensation causing a hint of pain to mix with more pleasure until  you feel him feel you up. "Fuck, fuck, fuck!" He groans as his nails dig into your skin, giving two good thrusts upwards into you to help ride out his high. You both sit in the position for a minute, trying to come back down from your highs. Yoongi gives you a delicate peck on the lips, smiling into the kiss before he pulls away. "Swear you're all I need."

"See, I don't know if I could say the same." He smacks your ass as you hike up and off of him to put on your shorts.

"Take it back."

"I'm kidding." You blush.

"My ride or die. Are you with me?"

"Always have been. Are you?"

"You know I am."

"Good. You know it takes two." He smiles before pulling you into another hug and pressing a kiss against your temple.

[ereawrites]

Diego’s alarm blares you awake at 5:45AM - you know this without even opening your eyes because, unpredictable as Diego is, he always wakes up unreasonably early to work out. You know this because he always texts you at 6AM to bitch about how stiff his shoulders are.

Today, you’re sure, his whole body will be screaming at him. Having shown up at your door last night just after midnight, covered in dust and dirt and bruises, Diego had simply shrugged off your concerns.

“What-“, you started, but he was already sliding past you into your apartment. At least he had the decency to pat your cheek as he passed.

“Nothing to worry about.”, Diego said, rifling through your refrigerator as if it were his own. He didn’t need to know that you keep extra eggs in stock for him, after all. “I jumped out of a window, that’s all. Totally fine.”

His back was to you and you could still see his stupid little smile. “Well, excuse me for not figuring that one out right away. Unforgivable.”. He huffed out a quiet laugh at that, gingerly turning to face you with your last bottle of milk in hand.

“You want this for breakfast in the morning?”

You did. You absolutely did. He dropped off a box of your favourite cereal two days ago, claiming to have been ‘passing by’, and that was total bullshit because the closest store is 15 minutes’ walk away from your house, and he shouldn’t even have known your favourite cereal because Diego Hargreeves was very much not your boyfriend.

Anyway.

His bust lower lip had twisted up into a too-soft smile when you said, “Nah, go for it. Just don’t drink it so fast that you’re sick this time. I’ll be in the bathroom to help fix you up when you’re done.”

-

The window is now taking its revenge. Is this his karma for destruction of property, you muse to yourself as you stretch the kind of stretch that makes your whole body shake, or for waking you up last night? Diego grunts. The alarm shuts off and you hear his phone clatter unceremoniously back onto the nightstand.

“Good morning.”

“Ah, shit. Sorry. Go back to sleep, I’ll be out of here in a minute.”. Bless his soul, he really does sound apologetic. Thankfully, the deep rumble of his first-thing-in-the-morning voice does wonders to put you in a good mood with him.

When you roll over to face him, you’re not quite sure what you notice first: the gentle, bleary brown eyes, or the bruise smacked right across his cheekbone. “Hm, it’s okay. How are you feeling?”

Diego’s palm envelops the back of your hand and gives a quick squeeze. “Great.”, he hums, despite how exhausted he looks. “Thanks for letting me crash here. I’ll bring you breakfast after my workout.” - and you’re at least 60% sure he was born with persuasive powers, too, because the way he looks at you leaves you reeling in the early morning light, and he’s halfway sat up before you can even react.

“Nope. No. Absolutely not. You need to rest today.”, you insist, grabbing his wrist to stop him in his tracks. Diego is a stubborn little shit and he looks at you like you’re an idiot - sweetly, sympathetically, and you’d want to kill him if he hadn't managed to carve out such a soft spot in your chest. He swings his legs over the edge of the bed, and you permit it if only to admire them. It’s far too early for subtlety and, hey, Diego’s always loved flattery.

“I don’t have time.”

When flattery doesn’t work, reason is your next best bet. A little guilt can't hurt, either, right? You pout up at him. “Who’s committing crimes at 6AM, baby? It can wait.”

(You should not call Diego that. He is not your boyfriend.

His face lights up just a bit.)

“Troublemakers.”

He smirks, and you know you’ve lost with that approach. Diego flip-flops between sweetness and sarcasm as if he's attached to a particularly irritating bungee cord, promising you breakfast one minute and deliberately driving you crazy the next. With a brush of his thumb over your knuckles, he’s moving away and stretching his arms over his head with a groan.

You wag an accusatory finger at him, still squinting in the ray of sunlight that manages to penetrate through your broken shutters. You’ll get him to fix it later this week. “Troublemakers like the guys who crash through innocent windows?”

“That’s different-“

“-In fact,”, you smile, poking at the skin of his gorgeous back in a petty attempt to get his attention solely back on you. “Maybe I should report you to the police. Bring down the crime rates and all.”

“You’d love to see me in handcuffs, huh?”, he quips as he stands and stretches again, giving you a perfect view of those lithe muscles in action. Boy, would you ever. But the smugness in his voice is way too evident, even if you can’t see his face: your only option is to scoff. 

“You’d be lucky.”, which is absolutely true (because you would rock his shit), because you’re pretty sure Diego is all bark and no bite, because you’ve seen just enough of his hidden tender side to really believe all his cocky jokes. You try not to dwell on it too much, but a tiny part of your heart believes that maybe Diego really, really cares for you.

Maybe it’s because of how he leans back over the bed to hold your cheek in his palm. God, he has you crumbling with that look in his eyes sometimes. “Go back to sleep. I’ll see you soon.”

Then his touch is gone, and it’s so embarrassing how you almost chase after it, but you smush your face into the pillow with a sigh. He’s stubborn as a mule and you're too exhausted to put up much more of a fight. Maybe you should just let him go for his ridiculous workout. Let him push his tired body, and let him send you an extra bitchy text in half an hour. You’ll ignore him, really teach him a lesson. See how he likes that.

You're just beginning to snicker into the pillow when Diego bends down to grab his shirt, staggers on his bad leg, and whimpers in pain.

Oh, well. Not a chance he's leaving now.

Three weeks ago, Diego had insisted on giving you some sort of self-defence training, which you had only actually agreed to on the assumption that you’d be able to annoy the shit out of him with it later. The main focus had been on ‘using the opponent’s size against them’ - this was not the first time you’d understood the reason behind all the Batman jokes - and, oh, this is the perfect opportunity to test your new skills.

With all the grace of a drunken bull, you leap from the bed, nearly tripping on the tangled bedsheets, and wrap your arms around his waist. Diego reaches out to steady you even as you're dragging him back towards the bed, tumbling down with him in tow and turning the impact into a roll that leaves him on the far side of the bed, with you curled tightly around his back, arm draped across his chest. The final step is to sling your leg over his hip, effectively pinning him with the least possible pressure on his sore muscles.

“Honey-”, Diego begins, but then you're running your fingers through his hair and it dissolves into a quiet little oh that you’re sure looks perfect on those pouty lips. It strikes you that this is the first time Diego has let you hold him - you're always the little spoon, on the rare occasions that both of you give in to the desire to touch each other, and you’re shocked by how right it seems to feel him melt into your touch. All the fight vanishes from his body in seconds.

“…I sleep better when you’re here, you know.” - and it’s not using any tricks to get him to stay, it’s just the plain truth. Diego’s breath hitches in his throat. It’s partially for selfish reasons that you want him to stay in bed, you admit, but mostly because he deserves a rest for once. You worry for him more than you would ever let him know. He probably figures it out, anyway, once you give in and drop your forehead to rest against the back of his neck. Somehow, you can't bring yourself to care - it’s much nicer to just enjoy how he kisses your wrist on the next brush of your fingers through his hair.

He’s leaning into your hand even before he pretends to grudgingly concede. “Just another hour.”

You’ll see about that.

[legends-of-apex]

‘Close Encounters of The Soft Kind’ - Bi-Han/Sub-Zero x Reader (fluff)

Summary: Shang Tsung asks you to tend to Bi-Han’s wounds after the fight with Jax.

A/N: Thank you all so much for your interest in this idea! Here it is! Hope you all enjoy :D Was so excited to write for Bi-Han as he’s such a great character! Hope you enjoy a softer side of him lol. TW for slight injury detail and the reader (GN) being a servant of Shang Tsung

Word Count: 3,500

Part Two

Tagging: @nyxdjarin @dragon-chica (if you’d like to be tagged in future fics please let me know!)

“You have returned, my champion! Were you successful?” Shang Tsung’s voice boomed as Sub-Zero made his way towards the dark, looming throne. The setting sun created a brilliant orange glow that bloomed behind it. He shook his head in reply, clenching and releasing his shoulder muscles in an attempt to release some of the aches and tension built up in the aftermath of the fight with Jax.

Shang Tsung let out a frustrated sigh through his teeth and cracked his neck, “You will have ample opportunity to succeed, I can assure you.” He was disappointed at his failure but he knew he had to keep Bi-Han on his side and sometimes that meant not letting his pride get in the way. He had to treat him well and keep him happy to retain the allegiance of someone so powerful. “You are injured?” Sub-Zero looked up at him, confused but saw that some of the blood had leaked through his armour on his forearm. Most of it wasn’t his but he truly couldn’t be bothered to explain as much.

Shang Tsung called your name then and you carefully stepped out from beside his throne, leaving the all too comfortable darkness. “Tend to our guests' wounds. And see to it that he is comfortable.” You bowed quickly before him, walking swiftly past Sub-Zero, your eyes cast straight at the floor. You turned briefly to see if the man was following you and you saw that he was, slowly, his eyes dead set on you. You caught his bright eyes for a moment and then turned your attention back to the ground as you walked towards the nearest free room in the castle.

The man’s footsteps were silent, the only sound following him was the occasional clink of his armour as he moved. When you reached the closest empty room you opened the door for him and stood to the side, avoiding his bright gaze at all costs. He took a cautious step inside, but he was too tired to care at this point if you were leading him to his death. He just wanted to sleep.

You closed the door behind you and started searching one of the many cupboards within the room. It was lavish, with all kinds of expensive furnishings and fabrics that Bi-Han hadn’t had the time to enjoy for a century. The room was warm too, but he would soon fix that if he needed to. He noticed the faint flickering of the candles on the wall, the room was clearly well prepared.

You approached him with a bundle of supplies in your arms and he now noticed the tatters and tears on the hems of your clothing. He wondered exactly what you were to Shang Tsung. If you were a lover or a concubine he was sure you would have been kept in better dress. You seemed far too shy for that anyhow, you wouldn’t even look him in the eye but that wasn’t usually an accurate indicator of anything. It was rare for anyone to counter his gaze.

You dumped the supplies on the bed and a quick flicker of your eyes up to his signalled for him to take a seat. He did, chin tilted towards the sky as he looked at you over his nose. He sat at the edge of the extravagantly large bed in the centre of the room, moving to undo his bracers but stopped when your hand shot out to stop him. You lay his large hand out over his lap and carefully undid the first buckle, then the other before sliding the piece of armour off his hand and placing it on a nearby dresser. He thought it was adorable how you cradled the piece in your arms as though it were made of gold.

He watched your face the entire time, brows knitted together as he studied you. He was trying to figure out what your intentions were in Shang Tsung’s castle, why you were here. You were beautiful, he didn’t mind admitting it. He knew beauty when he saw it although it was rare that he stopped to notice it. He couldn’t help but wonder exactly what such beauty was doing here of all places.

As you slipped the other bracer from his wrist, your finger brushed against his skin and recoiled slightly from the cold. He didn’t really notice, all too focused on the feeling of the touch of another on his skin. It was such a foreign feeling that he found himself frowning at it. You moved around him, undoing the straps that held his shoulder pads in place before setting those aside as well. His eyes burned into the back of your head as you moved around the room and you caught them with your own when you turned to face him again.

“Do you- Would you like your mask removed?” You asked, eyes flickering between him and the floor. He contemplated the question for a moment. Did he want you to see his face? He wasn’t sure. It had been at least a decade since anyone had. But your kind eyes and soft touch outweighed any concerns he had. Your voice was kind too, but worrisome in how you stumbled over your words. He hated to think why you were afraid to speak. A strange pang of concern drummed through his stomach as he contemplated the reason. Perhaps you were just afraid of him? That’s what he would usually put it down to but it wasn’t him you seemed afraid of.

He nodded his head once and went to undo the strap at the back of his head, pulling the helmet off, taking the mask with it. You couldn’t help but stare at him in disbelief. He was human. Or at least he looked human. If it wasn’t for his eyes and his slightly busted lip then he could’ve been any normal man you’d see walk by on the street. But he wasn’t and you knew that. You’d heard the whispers of his brutality, his callousness echoing through Shang Tsung’s castle. But now, as you gazed upon his handsome face, the faintest ghost of a smile gracing his reddened lips as he looked right back at you, he almost could’ve fooled you into thinking he wasn’t any of that. 

The way you looked at him now was hilarious, he couldn’t help but smile. Perhaps you were expecting some gaping maw for a mouth and not the face of what appeared to be just a man? A very handsome man. He hadn’t had anyone look at him like that in so long, you were almost admiring him. He suddenly felt a little nervous under your stare, he hadn’t the faintest idea why. 

You extended both your hands to him and he placed the mask and helmet into your palms. 

When you return back to him, you help him shrug off the rest of his armour and he felt the weight that left with it deep within his very bones. He needed a rest, not that he would ever admit it. You searched his body for a clasp to undo his chest plate, frowning slightly when you couldn’t see any. He liked your frown, he decided. It looked so out of place on your features.

Your breath hitched when he took your hand in his. His skin was so cold, colder than any living person’s flesh you had ever felt. He guided your hand to the side of his ribs then and you felt the clasp beneath your fingertips. He knew you weren’t going to let him do it himself but his hand didn’t leave yours, neither did his eyes but you were too focused on undoing the armour to truly notice the extent of his stare. 

Once shed of his chest plate, the only thing standing between you and his injuries now was his black undershirt. You didn’t need to ask him to remove it. He reached back and grabbed the hem of it at the base of his neck, pulling the ruined material over his head and into his lap. You bit the inside of your cheek at the sight.

His shoulders were broad, as was his chest, the muscle thick and skin scarred. In a way it looked like someone had ran a jagged paintbrush over his skin, it was certainly a better alternative than the tool that was actually responsible. His arms were well worked too but you had to stop admiring him when you caught sight of his wound. 

With a shaky hand, you placed a finger on either side of the gash on his bicep. It wasn’t deep but it would need stitches. Every other mark and bruise paled in comparison to that gash so you would deal with it first. His gaze almost softened as you touched his arm, he could’ve closed his eyes at the feeling of such intimacy. Your fingertips were so warm, so soft. If he hadn’t known better he would’ve mistaken you for someone who cared about him.

You moved away from him to grab a chair to pull up beside him and filled a bowl with water so you could clean the wound and his other grazes. You had never thought that you of all people would be the one to see Sub-Zero without his armour. It was a daunting thought. You knew of the work he did for Shang Tsung, you knew he was a monster. But the way he looked at you now was less like he wanted to hurt you, and more like he was savouring you and your presence. You didn’t mind being so close to him now either. He wasn’t harsh, in fact, he was anything but. Any move he made was slow, almost as though he was afraid of scaring you. 

You dipped a cotton ball into the warm water, lifting it and squeezing some of the liquid out before bringing it to his wound. You dabbed at it gently, wiping away any crusted blood or debris you could find. His gaze was still locked on your face then but it was soft, studying. 

He liked watching you work. He admired how gentle your touch was despite you having no relation to him at all. Did you treat everyone with such kindness? Either way, he savoured the inherent intimacy of what you were doing. You could’ve nearly been a lover then, he thought. A lover painstakingly tending to him after a hard day. Your touch certainly could have been that of a lover, so gentle and careful not to apply too much pressure to his skin in case you hurt him. It had been a long time since he had let anyone touch him in such a way, he’d almost forgotten what it felt like to be cared for.

He knew you weren’t a lover, of course. But he let himself relax as though you were. He trusted you, not finding a single ounce of malice in your presence. You seemed grateful when his shoulders slacked a little, knowing he wasn’t too on edge now. In truth, he was relaxed. Having forgotten how calming the touch of another could be, even if you were just wiping away dried blood. 

Once that wound was cleaned, you turned to the stray scratches that littered the rest of him. He hadn’t the heart to tell you they would heal in no time. As you looked over his chest, a frown graced you as you noticed a particularly wretched-looking scar that zig zagged across his abdomen. You examined it between your fingers, gently stretching the skin to get a better look. You were frowning again, and you took in a breath like you wanted to say something but bit your tongue.

He cocked his head to the side, silently asking you what it was you wanted to say. 

“This hasn’t been stitched up very well.”

And he laughed beneath his breath. That was such a strange sound. You looked up at him, finding the amusement in his brilliant eyes. You raised your eyebrows in question, wondering what on earth he found funny.

“Healing techniques weren’t particularly precise when it happened.” That scar had come from Hanzo’s blade, stabbed him right through a gap in his armour.

“Oh.” You continued to look it over, examining just how badly it had been taken care of. You were doing literally anything you could to distract yourself from how nice his voice was and how seemingly privileged you were to hear it. “When did it happen?”

He smiled, weighing up whether or not he should tell you. “1617.” 

You pulled back and looked at him with wide eyes. You didn’t look afraid, you just looked at him like you couldn’t believe what he’d just told you. With a shake of your head, you returned to cleaning the rest of his wounds. You looked like you wanted to say something but held your tongue again, he longed to hear what you had to say about the matter. Or anything else really. 

As you dabbed at the specks of blood on his chest he found himself relaxing more and more, his shoulders slumped forward slightly. Your touch felt like heaven, warm fluttering fingertips on his skin.

“I hope you don’t mind me saying.” You cleared your throat, “You don’t look a day over a hundred.” You smiled up at him then. A brilliant smile that he couldn’t help return. You were joking with him, and he loved it.

Once his wounds were cleaned and his skin held a glistening sheen from your moistened cotton wool, you sat up and grabbed a needle, holding it over a candle for a moment before threading it. When you returned to him, he held his injured arm out for you, not shying away from the red hot needle at all. You were careful with your stitches, not that he had high standards for your needlework. But you noticed how he didn’t even flinch. Not once, in fact, he only moved to turn his arm slightly so you could see the wound better. What a strange man he was.

When you were finished you grabbed a bottle of ointment for him. The herbs smelt wonderful, a refreshing change to the smell of blood. You coated your hands in it then and set about rubbing it into his gashes and grazes. You’d be lying if you said your fingers hadn’t lingered longer than necessary on his torn skin. He didn’t seem to care. Your fingers rubbed in circles, slow and gentle. The cold radiating off of him didn’t seem to bother you now, in fact, his skin warmed slightly beneath your touch. 

When you were finished, you stood but noticed a single droplet of dried blood on his temple.  Instinctively, you reached forward to find the source. Your nails dragged over his scalp as you parted his hair to find the gash, and he swore he’d never felt a sensation so wonderful. 

“You hit your head.” You noted, more to yourself than him it seemed. The gash was small, only a graze really but you cleaned it anyways. Any head injury was concerning no matter how small. “Do you need some ice?” You asked and he looked up at you as if asking if you were joking.

You had no idea why he’d had that reaction. Maybe it was because it didn’t hurt at all? 

Sensing your confusion, he extended his hand towards you, his palm turned towards the ceiling. Specks of blood appeared in the centre of his palm, shortly followed by small ice crystals. The crystals swelled and grew until in his hand he held the most perfect sphere of solid ice. You blinked rapidly, looking between his face and the ice.

“A cryomancer?” You asked, excitement evidence on your face as you cupped his large hand between both of yours, admiring the ice. “I didn’t realise there were any of you left.” You whispered to yourself but he heard. “I’m so sorry. Please excuse my excitement. I’ve just never met anyone like you before.” Your voice was timid now, almost sheepish as you straightened your posture and regained your composure.

“Please, there is no need to apologise.” His voice was low, and he swallowed thickly after he spoke. Like he wasn't too used to speaking anymore.

You took the sphere from his hands, cradling it as though it were some precious gem. You wrapped it in a cloth then and held it carefully to the side of his head. “For the swelling.” You confirmed, daring to sneak a glance at his face again. His eyes were like pools, you could stare at them forever but you forced yourself to break away from his gaze and focus on why you were here. “Have you any more injuries?” You asked him and he shook his head in reply, placing his hand over yours to support your makeshift ice pack. You left your hand there for a moment, biting the inside of your lip at the touch before letting your hand drop to your side.

You began to gather your things together, “It was wonderful to meet you…” you trailed off, realising you didn’t know his name,

“Bi-Han.” He didn’t know why he said it, as freely and openly as he did. 

“Bi-Han.” You confirmed and he decided then that your voice was the only one he ever wanted to hear saying his name. “It was lovely to meet you, Bi-Han. If you need anything, there will be servants passing through the halls all night.”

“Is that what you are?” He asked, silently hoping that wasn’t the case.

“A servant?” You sighed, “I suppose you could call me that.” He didn’t like that answer.

“Are you here of your own accord?”

“No.” You shook your head, sadness evident across your beautiful face, “I should be going.”

His eyes closed. That was exactly what he was afraid of. You were a prisoner here. No wonder you were so nervous. Shang Tsung was a bastard, to be fair so was he. But Bi-Han was always a bigger fan of quick deaths rather than prolonged suffering or servitude. He was only here to end Hanzo’s line, the only one who offered him the chance to do so was Shang Tsung but that didn’t mean he held any semblance of loyalty to the man.

He wasn’t sure what to say then. He couldn’t really offer any comfort. So he gave you the one thing he could. You saw the ice begin to sprout from one hand, and he shaped it with his other. You looked on, curious as to what exactly he was doing. When he held his hand out to you again, a dagger made of solid ice sat within it. He grabbed the hilt between his fingers and twirled it towards you. You took it with a shaky hand, unsure of his intentions.

“Should you need to defend yourself.” he clarified, “It will not melt.” Not with how dense he had made it.

You threw your arms around his neck then, something he truly wasn’t expecting. When you pulled back your eyes were teary.

“Thank you.” You spoke with such sincerity and vigour that he felt some foreign emotion stir within his chest. It seems like it had been a while since you had been shown any kindness too.

He admired how you stared in awe of the dagger, pressing it flat against your chest as though it was the most precious gift you had ever received. “Thank you, Bi-Han. Whatever can I do to repay you?” You looked to him for an answer. He was about to shake his head, tell you that you’d already done far more for him than he could ever hope to explain. But then he had a thought. 

“Your name. All I ask is your name.”

You told him without hesitation and he extended his hand towards you once more. You took it, surprised when he turned your palm around and brought your knuckles to his lips, his eyes dead set on yours as he did.

“Thank you,” he told you with all the sincerity in his heart, you assumed it was for patching him up but he meant it for much much more. The kindness you had shown him was truly something else, he felt truly blessed by the gods to have met you. He released your hand then and you stood frozen for a moment before shifting the dagger into the bundle of supplies and gathering them back in your arms.

You shook your head as you walked towards the door. “No, thank you.” You offered him a final smile then, “Good night, Bi-Han.” With that, you were gone. He silently cursed himself for not wishing you a good night as well. He decided then and there that he would speak with Shang Tsung about you in the morning. There was no way in hell that he was letting him keep you here without your say so and he didn’t care what he had to do to get you out of that place.

Part two

[jayaury]

Berry Big Bimbo

A quick short story about a blueberry plant girl having some fun with a poor soul who wandered into her berry patch.

~ ~ ~

The cardinal rule of the Wire Woods was never trust a shortcut.

If Miles ever got out, he’d never disobey it again.

He shivered again as a wind swept through the forest, bringing with it the first chill of coming night. He glanced again at the sky, where a once blue horizon burned with evening’s reds and golds, peeking through the thick branches and leafy boughs. Stupid, stupid, stupid! He again shouldered his pack, putting on another spurt of speed. Day was bad enough in the Wire Woods, but night brought out the absolute worst. No one went near the forests after dark. Not unless they wanted to become the pet of some demon spawn residing within. Miles had no intention of sharing that fate. He just had to keep following the path. All paths lead somewhere!

He just hoped it wasn’t to the lair of a succubus.

Miles was looking up at the sky so often to check how long he had, that he didn’t notice the clearing until he was right in it.

He staggered to a stop, and not just because of the thick brambles that grew from the center of the clearing like a dark dome, but also because before him were a dozen paths spreading out of the clearing, spaced apart like the spokes of a wheel.

“Oh shit,” he groaned.

“Hm?”

Miles jumped, whirling about. “Who said that?” he demanded.

“Me of course!”

Miles turned with creeping horror towards the brambles in the center of the clearing. They were being parted by a pair of hands of a blue so deep it was almost purple. Skin of a similar hue came into view as the brush was pushed away, revealing a woman of jaw-dropping proportions, not the least of which was the fact her hips ended in a network of roots. She rested among the thorny bushes as if never even noticing their spikes, her breasts so large Miles wondered if she could even get up. Her hair spilled in richest green leaves, half covering her face, her lips a shade of purple they were nearly black, and so big and soft they made Miles blush just to see them.

He felt himself relax, but only just. Not a true demon. Merely a tainted. A melon or a berry girl. Weaker spawn of the demon’s taint. Though, he knew as well that the corrupted had threats all their own.

“Oh!” the plant woman cried, clapping her hands delightedly. “What a cutie came by to say hello. Hi! My name’s Tartiana. What’s yours?”

Miles felt himself blush a little when she said that, for her ample bosom tended to wobble distractingly whenever she spoke. “Um, Miles.”

“Miles!” she said, her tongue moving over her soft lips as if tasting the name. “Mmm. What a cute name. Perfect for such a cute boy.”

“Uh, thanks,” Miles said uneasily. He felt his cheeks warm with embarrassment. He hadn’t been called cute since he’d turned twenty last year. He glanced nervously about the clearing. “Are you alone?”

“Yup! Just me. Which is why I’m just so happy I got a visitor! It’s been soooo long,” she cooed, and Miles couldn’t help but notice how she fondled her immense, firm breasts. Like two great blueberries swelling on her chest.

“Yeah, I imagine.”

“Of course! Nobody comes out to the Wire Woods. And so late! I get so lonely,” she said, fluttering her soft lashes at him.

Miles felt his blush return, but wasn’t too worried. Such a bimbo wasn’t really a threat. He could outthink her, if it came to that. “If you’ve been here for a long time, does that mean you know where these paths go?”

“Sure!” Tartiana giggled. “I know these woods like the back of my breasts!”

Again Miles’s eyes were pulled to those wobbling orbs before he managed to wrest them back to her face. “Oh, um, great! Does that mean you know which way leaves the forest?”

“Totes!” Tartiana giggled and pointed to one of the paths. “It’s that way.”

Miles fairly sagged in relief. “Great! Thank you,” he said, turning down the indicated trail.

“Or, um, maybe it was that one?”

Miles paused as she pointed at the path in the complete opposite direction. “But…”

“Or um… oh gosh. It might even be that one,” she said, pointing in a third, completely opposite direction.

Miles glanced again at the sky darkening through the boughs. “Look, do you know the way out or not?” he said.

“Um, oh gosh. I’m sorry,” Tartiana groaned, fondling her bouncing breasts. “It’s just um… I always have trouble concentrating when my big, bouncy berry tits get all stuffed with juice.”

“They… um…”

Miles trailed off, his jaw slowly dropping as he spotted a bead of blue liquid drip from Tartiana’s puffy nipple.

“Oh gosh yes. I grow soooo much juice, you know,” Tartiana moaned, continuing to bounce her plump tits, squeezing them between her arms. “And no one comes down the paths ever! I can never find a nice boy to help me squeeze my sweet, berry juice out.”

“O-oh,” was all Miles could say, his head slowly nodding with the bouncing of those massive, blue breasts.

“But I always think so much clearer when they’re all drained out. All squeezed out. Like it squeezes out all my thoughts. All my confusion.”

“Th-thoughts?”

“Oh gosh yes! Not that I ever have many,” she giggled. “All I’ve got to think about is how full my tits are. How bouncy. How a handsome boy would just love to watch and touch them. Stroke and kiss them.”

Miles couldn’t look away. What was more, he was becoming aware of a far from subtle pressure in his pants. He cleared his throat, trying to shake himself from his stare. “W-well, if it would help you think, I guess I could… maybe…”

“Would you?” Tartiana gasped, her large eyes shining. She shifted in her bed of brambles, her large breasts bouncing. “Oh thank you, thank you! I knew you were a good boy the moment I saw you!”

Miles again felt a flush at those words, but decided not to challenge them. What business was it of his if she called him a good boy? So long as she gave him directions, she could call him the Baron of Gula. Besides, so long as he kept his head about him, he’d be fine. She was far too dumb to trick him.

Still, he approached warily. One could never be too careful in the Wire Woods, after all. As he came closer, the sweet scent of blueberries surrounded him like a haze. The strength of it stunned him, but on he went, making his way carefully over to Tartiana, ready to bolt like a startled rabbit at the first sign of treachery.

Tartiana merely waited, smiling, her big, ample breasts pressed out on proud display, her arms crossed beneath them, lifting them. Miles reached for them, only to hesitate. Something… something about this seemed… seemed wrong.

“What’s the matter?” Tartiana asked in a singsong voice.

“Um, nothing.”

“You’re not scared of my big breasts are you?”

“O-of course not!”

“Aw, it’s okay if you are. A little, maybe. They’re so awfully big, aren’t they? So big and firm. I mean, look at them!”

She bounced them in her arms. Miles’s eyes followed. Gods. They were so firm. He likened them to blueberries at their ripest season, her nipples nearly black. He swallowed thickly.

“I…”

“Aren’t they the best?”

“Uh… uh huh…”

“They’re just so big!”

“Yeah…”

“So bouncy!”

“Mmm…”

“So big and squishy and such silly bimbo tits!”

Miles swallowed again. He felt oddly thirsty. His hands hesitated.

“I’ve got a big pair of bimbo tits, don’t I?”

“Well, um…”

“It’s okay! Like I said, they make it sooooo hard to think sometimes. Why, when they’re full like this, it can be so hard to concentrate on anything else but how big and wonderful and full they are. And my juice is just so sweet. So tender. It just melts a silly mind to nothing!”

Miles swayed a little. “Um…”

“C’mon, baby,” Tartiana crooned, leaning up, pushing her big breasts closer so he could see the taut smoothness of those orbs. “Give my big bimbo tits a good milking.”

She was so close, his merest twitch brushed a finger against her breast. Tartiana gasped, moaning, her breasts bouncing at her sudden intake of breath. But the motion didn’t dislodge Miles. His fingers remained, as if glued to her ample bust.

And slowly, he leaned forward, engulfing her breast with his palms, marvelling at how huge she was. How heavy. How firm and big her breasts were. How they twitched with her delighted whimper, filling his hands as he hefted them.

“Mmmm! Oh, that’s it. Really fill up your hands with my bimbo berry boobies! Aren’t they so big and firm?”

“Yeah,” Miles breathed, fondling her ample tits. Pressing them together. Watching them squish and bounce in his hands.

“Ooooh, yes. Oh baby, just like that. Massage my big breasts. Good boys love big breasts. Good boys love milking pretty berry girls. You’re being such a good boy. Ooooh, but… ah… but it needs… needs a little something… something more. Gotta milk my big dumb breasts. My big, dumb, bimbo tits. Oh baby, I need your help. A little more. A little something more…”

Miles wondered what that could be. But then her arms were around his head. Were easing him forward towards a dark nipple dribbling her sweet juices. His mouth was so dry. So thirsty. He didn’t think. Instinct guided his lips to that nub.

And had him suck.

And suck.

And suck, like a good bimbo boy.

Sweet wine drowned his mouth and what remained of his resistance. He moaned, flushing hot as Tartiana’s milk splashed into his mouth. Onto his tongue. He drank it down. Drank it like a man possessed, his head spinning. His body warming.

“Mmm. That’s it. Ohhhh, what a good boy admiring my big, dumb breasts. Oops! But you’re getting it all over your clothes! We can’t have them stain. We gotta fix that, don’t we?”

They did. Had to… had to… He stopped trying to think. It was so hard anyway. And drinking was so easy. Burying his face in her big bosom as he pressed her tits together, moaning and whimpering, his mind lost in a drunken haze of lust and the bounce of her tits, he struggled out of his clothes, shrugging them off with her help. He was naked. Naked was good. So good.

“Mmmm,” Tartiana moaned. “Such a good boy. A good boy who loves my dumb breasts. And you know why he does?”

“Mmmnoooo,” Miles fairly drooled.

“Silly!” Tartiana giggled, booping his nose. “It’s because he’s a silly, dumb bimbo too! But oh gosh! Look how late it is! It’s all dark, and we can’t have such a silly boy wandering around the Wire Woods! All sorts of nasty demons would just love to play with you. Don’t you worry, though. Momma Tartiana’s gonna take good care of you.”

Some sense of uncertainty trickled through his mind. Miles lifted lips stained purple from her nipple. “But… um… I…”

“Don’t worry,” Tartiana giggled, guiding his head back down to her breast. “You can go anytime you want! Just as soon as it’s light out again. How’s that sound?”

Light out. Yes. Right. Light. He could wait for light. Miles smiled dreamily as he resumed sucking. Resumed sinking into the berry girl’s big, blue tits. Resumed being a good bimbo boy for his new, berry beautiful mistress. His cock sinking into the pleasured tightness of her pussy. His whimpers swallowed by her moans, his thoughts steeped in her bouncing breasts. He could do this. He could wait in her breasts for light.

And the brambles knit above their heads, steeping them in a pillowy darkness that would never end...

[truglori]

Homebody (Ch.1)

Summary: Amiyah is the younger sister of local drug dealer (Durkio). Shy and reserved she keeps to herself and stays out the way. But lately she began to find interest in his right hand man/ best friend (Erik Stevens). Wanting to get him to notice her she discovers that he already had her wrapped around his finger without even trying! There was only a few problems that kept her away from her fantasies , her brother that controlled almost every single breath she took and would kill anyone who looked at her that way and lastly Eriks girlfriend, Alexis , who they called the queen of the hood according to her lavish lifestyle as well as being with the next newest top boy in the making. While Alexis was his girl to the streets all Amiyah wanted to do was be his Homebody...

Durkio Faceclaim

Alexis Faceclaim

Amiyah Faceclaim

Pairing: Erik Stevens x Thick Black OC

Warning: language

Kicking off the covers from her legs for the fifth time that night Amiyah flipped over on the left side of the bed relieving herself from pressure that she felt on her right shoulder.

Picking up her phone she saw the time of 12:46 am. It wasn’t the discomfort she felt in her sleep or the extremely warm temperature of her room that woke her up. It was the blaring from her Durkio’s speaker that was gifted to him from himself as an early birthday present. She was cool with it the first couple of times, seeing as she used it as well to play music whenever she wanted to clean her room but this was starting to become annoying.

In the next five hours she had to be up early to open the clothing store she worked at. Durkio likes his music to be played loudly but for some reason tonight it was blasting.

Getting out of bed and slipping on her black UGG Tasman slippers Amiyah went to open the door and was met with the aroma of weed.

“Damn I guess the music isn’t the only thing that’s loud.” She tiredly giggled at her own humor.

Took Her to the O by King Von was the choice of song that woke her from her beauty rest. Shaking her head as she folded her arms she walked down the hall of their shared three bedroom apartment to see the dimmed living room foggy.

Swatting away the smoke she walked closer to the couch preparing to get onto her brother.

“Yo Durk, you know I have to get up for work in a few hours. Can you turn the speakers down or off please?”

Amiyah coughed through almost every word. She didn’t smoke so whenever she inhaled the air would hit her baby lungs causing her to react.

The music level turned down. Finally what seemed like forever the smoke was clearing the living room so she could see the face of her brother...or who she thought was her brother. It was Erik.

Leaning forward he put out his blunt on the ashtray, then he dusted off any remains of falling ashes from his dark grey Nike sweatsuit he rested his elbows on his knees.

Looking up at her with hooded eyes he licked his lips and the famous “sober up wipe” to the face followed after.

“Damn that’s my bad Miyah. I was in here just letting my phone play. I woke you up?” He asked with a small smile.

“Yeah a lil bit but it’s okay.” She spoke in a soft voice that was different compared to the tone she poke in before she found out it wasn’t her brother but her brother’s best friend and also..her crush.

Awkwardly standing there with her arms going back into their folding position making herself feel secured once she cover her tummy she decided to walk to the black leather recliner on the left side of him sitting down. She found herself being really close to him unlike any other times. Inhaling the air she could smell his cologne mix with the weed.

“Um, where’s Durkio?”

“He went out to the car to grab something real quick. He’ll be back.”

Erik got up putting everything that was laid out on the coffee table up. From the bags of weed by the pound to three glock 17s that was sprawled out everywhere. He knew this wasn’t new to her or anything but he wanted to be respectful to his partna’s lil sister. Even though he was the only child he knew that if he did had a baby sister he would want his boys to show the same respect.

Amiyah watched his every move. From the way he gave his sweats a tug around the inner thigh area giving him some room to breathe down there to then observing him pulling up the sweats before he sat down.

There she was doing it again, acting like a little stalker over this man. But she couldn’t help it. She found herself crushing on the best friend of her brother really hard. She was introduced to Erik at the age of seventeen. Just getting out of high school while her brother was already making a name for himself in the streets at twenty-three.

Durkio was coming up from being know for having the best exotics in the hood, some untouchable shit. He started to get more exposure and also more enemies. So along came his homeboy Erik, standing 6’3 and about 225 lbs solid. By the age of twenty-one he was already known to be a problem. Hot headed and a crazy mouth to match but also in a strange way quiet. It was like he knew when to turn it off and on. She notice that whenever she was around the duo he would be barely audible and sometimes completely quiet when she would walk into a room. Taking only glances at her and continued to keep it pushing.

Maybe that’s what she liked about him. Not only did they share the same characteristics when it came to not saying a lot while around others but he also didn’t try to put up a front in front of Durkio. His other homeboys did too much by just talking excessively to her about nothing while trying not to say the wrong thing too her to stay on the good side of her brother.

Amiyah wasn’t the only one doing some studying. Erik didn’t take his eyes off of her from the moment she stepped into the living room. He watched the twenty-one year old face turn from hard to soft as soon as she seen it was him in the place of where her brother usually sits.

Even through his hooded eyes he caught her covering her stomach and setting herself up in a defensive position, something he notice she always did when he was around. To Erik it seemed as if she was doing it because she wasn’t comfortable around him so he stopped his eyes from wandering over her body and other times not acknowledging her other than a head nod.

He already knew how his mans Durkio felt about his little sister. He was going to kill whoever did her wrong, let alone even looked at her like they had a problem. In Eriks eyes Amiyah was considered hood royalty. It wasn’t all talk either. A few months ago there was a young recruit that tried to get Amiyah’s number, who clearly wasn’t interested turned him down in the most modest way. Youngin tried to show out in front of his friends and slipped up and called her a fat bitch.

Once word got to Durkio he had the whole hood searching for the kid and when he found him, not only did he have the dude friends jump him my nigga literally fed him a bag of dog shit and made him eat it. Swallowing every drop.

“Yeah nigga you like to talk shit so you gon eat this muthafucka! You lucky I don’t get one of ya own mans to pop yo ass folk!”

Erik shook his head inwardly laughing about how the whole situation unfolded in front of him. Durkio was one crazy ass nigga! That’s why they was best friends though. Their personalities just matched.

Even though Erik to himself wasn’t official in the game a lot of people seem to think so. But that wasn’t the case, to him he felt he was just heavily associated with the ones surrounding it. Guess you can say his name got caught in the wrong mouth and they titled him without knowing the facts. He didn’t care though, he figured people was going to think what they wanted about him anyways so why try so hard to prove them wrong.

“Erik.” Amiyah looked over to seem him leaning back into the couch with his hands in his hoodie pocket. He was smiling to himself about something. She wondered what.

“Wassup.” He answered nonchalantly giving her his undivided attention

“Do you know how long he’s been gone?”

“Oh I’m not sure, I think five minutes or so. You want me to leave or something?” Erik asked on edge ruffling up his dreads a bit not wanting her to feel guarded in her own home.

Truth was Amiyah didn’t care so much about her brother’s whereabouts. She wanted to use these few minutes alone with him to feed her fantasies. Imagining just them two in his home not worrying about Durk busting in on them.

“No of course not. You’re good. I-I was just being nosy.” She tried her best laughing the nerves away while mentally face palming herself for stuttering.

Erik smirk. He could see the quiver in her bottom lip when she spoke. She was trying to hide it but it wasn’t working.

“Nah I feel you. You work tomorrow?” Deciding to spark up some conversation to help her relax with him.

“Yeah I open the store. So I have to be out of here by six in the morning.” Pushing her back against the recliner lifting one leg under the other she made herself cozy.

“Bella Ella Boutique right.”

Her eyes flickering at the fact he knew where she worked.

‘So he must pay attention to me.’

Is what she thought. If it wasn’t for her golden brown skin complexion she would be sure that Erik would know that she is blushing.

Along with a head nod she gave a small smile answering quietly. “Yeah that’s right.” She shifted her eyes not wanting to keep to much eye contact.

“You like working there? How long has it been by the way?” Resting his elbows on his knees once again, facing her, he gave her all his attention.

Placing her hands between her thick thighs to help calm her nerves she put her eye back on him.

“It’s okay...it’s just I wish they would hurry up and hire some new people already. Like I’ve been working so many hours and-“

She stopped mid sentence once she heard him chuckle.

Lightly giggling herself she shook her head. “What’s so funny?”

“You.” Erik swiping his bottom lip with his tongue before giving her a small smile.

This was the most he heard her talk this much in a while. Usually she would only say hi and bye and then every now and then ask about her brother but tonight she was keeping conversation like they were friends.

“Why am I funny? What I say?” Curious to know the reason.

“It’s nothing bad mama I just never heard you talk this much before. You be acting mad quiet around me.” Leaning back putting one arm at the top of the couch and resting the other on top of his crotch area.

Amiyah took in his form.

Did he just call me mama?

She couldn’t help catching his nickname.

Hit Different by Sza started playing softly in the background.

“Okay but you can talk to me too. I’m not the only one with a voice Erik.”

“You right and I’m a change that for you. When I come around I’ll start addressing you more. Is that good?” Staring into her soft brown eyes searching for an answer.

Playfully rolling her eyes trying her best to subdue her smile.

“Whatever-“

The front door open revealing her brother. Holding a bag of Burger King eating some fries.

“Aye my bad nigga I had to get sumn to smack on- Miyah fuck is you doing outta bed?” Durkio stop rummaging through the food once he saw her.

Erik scooting down further away from her towards the middle of the couch not trying to give his crazy ass any ideas.

“Uh Durk last time I checked I’m grown.”

He looked at her like she had four eyes.

“Girl you better quit acting like I ain’t raise damn near by myself. You bet get yo ass back in that bed fo’ yo ass miss work then you gon want me to pay you for the hours you miss.” He sat the bag of food down next to the ashtray that held about four roach blunts.

“Nigga she only out here cause I was blasting the music. I woke her up.” Erik winking at her defending her.

Her thighs clenched up at the small action.

I know he did not just make me wet by winking at me?

Of course this was only due to her inexperience. She never got pass kissing a guy and even that she felt needed some work.

Knocking her out of her thoughts her loud brother spoke again.

“Erik I don’t need you sticking up or lying for her and nigga where the fuck my weed at?”

He got up checking the cabinets pulling out a half ounce before looking back to see that his baby sister in the same spot.

“Miyah why you still here?” He asked breaking up the bud.

To people on the outside it may seem like Durkio was a mean brother but he really didn’t mean her any harm. That was just always how he was. He had a rough demeanor, so when he spoke it could come off offensive if you didn’t know him but both Amiyah and Erik knew that was just his mannerism. But all in all he loves his baby sister.

She smacked her lips. “I can’t hang out with y’all?”

“No. Hell is wrong with ‘dis girl?” He asked his friend chuckling.

Erik silently laughing at the bickering siblings. He unwrapped the whopper that he got from the bag before taking a bite while closing his eyes and savoring the grilled burger. Fast food always hit different when he was high.

Shaking her head she decided against arguing back and forth with her brother. She had to get up in a few anyways so it was time for her to head back to bed.

“Whatever I’m going back to bed. Night. Night Erik.” Getting up from the couch making her way out the living room area she turned to look at the duo one last time.

She caught Erik looking her up and down before giving her a head nod acknowledging her and mouthing a good night.

Disappearing in the hall and back into the room she sat on her bed replaying the conversation over and over which brought back the memory of his scent. Somehow she could still smell him as if he was right in front of her.

Smiling to herself she got up checking the time on her Apple Watch on her nightstand that read 1:34 am.

She had a few hours to get some sleep. Taking a last glance at herself in the mirror she realized she still had on her light blue silk bonnet the whole time in front of Erik.

Nooo.

Laughing at the embarrassing thought she shrugged it off before sleep took over her body again.

___________________________________________________

Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six Part Seven Part Eight Part Nine Part Ten Part Eleven Part Twelve Part Thirteen

Hey guys this is my first story on here. Haven’t wrote in a while and so I just wanted to try it out again just to see if I still have it in me lol. I have a few ideas for this story but I’m not sure...anyways let me know what you guys think. Constructive criticism is allowed here.

P.s If I tagged you I probably read your work or I just want to see if you would be interested in this story. If you don’t like it I can take you off so sorry if you might not be interested.

Please excuse any mistakes if there are any. Thanks!!

@supersizemeplz @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @hearteyes-for-killmonger @artisticestheticreads @uzumaki-rebellion @blowmymbackout @chaneajoyyy @thehomierobbstark @thiccdaddy-mbaku @curls-and-crosses @madamslayyy @goddessofthundathighs @eriksjournal @erikslulbaby @wakandamama @wawakanda-btch @wakandas-vibranium @wakandaforeverwrites @ghostfacekill-monger @killmonger-dolan @killmongerkink

[bigballofstress]

Pickpocket (Avengers x Child!Reader)

Description: You have been living on the streets for years, and over these years, you have become incredibly good at pickpocketing.  Unfortunately for you, though, you picked the wrong target one too many times.

Part 2 if you guys want it, just let me know!

Chin up, shoulders back, even steps.  My heart is calm, my breaths slow and measured, and every muscle in my body is relaxed.  In other words, every last inch of me screams that I am a confident, kind young lady without a care in the world.

No matter what anybody says, looks really are everything.  Every time you meet someone new or even just pass by them on the street, your mind makes a snap judgement about them.  Now, don’t get me wrong.  I’m not saying that everyone you meet is prejudiced or anything of the sort.  Those snap judgements can easily be changed with an open-minded person, sometimes without even needing a whole conversation.  Still, that doesn’t change the fact that when you see a well-groomed person in a suit, your mind automatically thinks they are successful, and when you see someone coming at you with a hoodie covering their face and their hands in their pockets, you automatically tense up.  None of that is your fault, and actually it’s probably a good thing that you would be wary of people who are acting rather suspicious.  Really, the only issue with these immediate ideas of every person you see is the fact that it makes people like me -- people who understand how these momentary impressions work -- able to take advantage of them.

It didn’t take long to realize I had a talent for it.  I already looked the part, -- a helpless, adorable little girl -- I had a surprising knack for staying calm under pressure, and as much as I hated the old bitch, my caretaker had given me all the tools I needed.  She was a stickler for proper manners, so I learned how to speak, sit, and walk like a “proper young lady.”  Plus, her insane rules about tiny meal portions and too-early curfews taught me to be light on my feet as I often sneaked downstairs to grab a roll of bread at night.  Yes, I had everything I needed.  The only real hurdle was actually deciding to do it.  I never really wanted to be a bad person.  But the world is a heartless place, the city even more so, and by the end of my first week, I knew what I had to do if I was ever going to survive.

So, I started working -- oh, and by the way, no matter what you think, it is still a job.  I put my time and effort into a certain task, and I obtain money because of it.  I don’t know about you, but that certainly sounds like a job to me.  And it was easier than I thought it would be.  Within about a day, I realized that people saw me as sweet, innocent, and harmless -- no, more than that, they wanted to see me as harmless.  Because if I wasn’t harmless, then that meant their world was even more screwed up than they thought.  I learned quick, and by the end of the year, I had perfected my technique.  It was simple: avoid all conversation if possible, and if absolutely necessary, smile and point out the farthest adult man within reason as my dad before weaving through the small gaps in the crowd, preferably around taller people, so they couldn’t see or follow me.  I only got caught once or twice, but I’m grateful that I did.  It forced me to learn perspective, that I needed to know more than just how to talk well.  So, I learned how to run through a city.  And now, I’m practically unstoppable.  

As I take my even, not-too-fast-but-not-too-slow stroll down the sidewalk, a small, ambiguous smile decorating my lips, I can see it in each person’s eyes as they walk past that I have completely embodied my character.  My arms swung with a practiced nonchalance as my eyes flickered from one person to the next, each time going through a mental list as I weighed the chances I had of succeeding on them versus how likely they were to catch on and calculated the amount of time that both of these events would likely take to happen.  Finally, after a few minutes of this practice, one of them caught my eye.

He was larger, more muscular.  Guys like him were  a gamble.  Often, a man of his appearance simply cared a bit too much about his appearance.  Still, every now and then, they look like that because they been trained, and while past training usually meant they had no practice running in a city, it also meant that he would be much more jumpy and alert to his surroundings.  However, his deep, loose pockets with the corner of his wallet just barely sticking out and the thoughtful gaze as he surveyed the buildings tipped the scales further and further in my favor.  The wonder in his eyes just screamed tourist.

I gazed forward with an absentminded look in my eye that I’d spent months perfecting in the mirror while keeping him clearly in my periphery before bumping into him.  As I hit him, two of my fingers simultaneously dipped into his pocket, where my knee bumped against his leg to jolt his wallet up and out.  The moment the warm leather was in my grasp, I forced myself to fall backwards.  Before I could hit the ground, though, I felt one of those strong, muscular arms had wrapped itself around my waist and was helping me back up.  

My jaw clenched for half a second.  This wasn’t good.  His reflexes were too quick to have just worked out at some random gym, which meant my hunch was right: he had been trained.  And that meant that I needed to get out of there fast.  I wouldn’t be able to slip the wallet back in his pocket without bumping into him again, and that would only make me look even more suspicious, so I quickly emptied it of all of the cash behind his back and slipped the bills into my sleeve before tossing the piece of leather on the ground a few feet away.

“Are you alright?” he asked, concern evident in his eyes, and immediately I decided on my personality for the day -- bright and bubbly but proper.  Gently, he released his arm from its position on my waist once he knew I had regained my footing.

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry,” I quickly apologized, my left hand shooting up to cover my mouth in fake shock while my right hand carefully dropped the money in one of my own pockets, all the while watching every last one of his movements for any sign of suspicion.  “It was all my fault.  I wasn’t paying attention where I was going.”

“It’s ok, really.”  He scratched the back of his neck.  “I wasn’t really looking where I was going either, so it was partially my fault, too.”

“Well, thank you for catching me, sir, but I really have to go,” I smiled at him apologetically.  “I’m supposed to meet back up with my dad in about five minutes.”

“Oh, no worries,” he responded kindly before sneaking a glance at my old, slightly ripped clothes, the concern still dancing in his eyes.  “You’re sure you’re alright, though?”

“Absolutely!”  I dismissed.  “Thank you again!”

“Um, yeah, no problem.”  We both started to walk away.

I waited patiently as I listened to his retreating steps.  1... 2... 3... 4... and then-- “Hey, mister!” I called, bending down and grabbing the piece of leather from where I had tossed it earlier.  “I think you might’ve dropped your wallet!”

The man turned back, shocked, before jogging back towards me.  “I didn’t even notice,” he mumbled to himself.  “Hey, thanks, kid.”

“My pleasure!” I chirped.  “Now, sorry, but I really have to get going.  See you around, sir!”  I quickly jogged off, allowing myself to get lost in the crowd before he could even have a minute to fully understand what happened.

-- 3rd Person POV --

“I told you guys the world wasn’t such a bad place!” Steve called as he entered the living room of Stark Tower.  The rest of the Avengers looked up in surprise.  They had been having this argument for the past three days, with Steve insisting that there were still people who put others first living in New York while the entire rest of the team tried to convince him otherwise.

“Alright, show your work,” Tony leaned back against the wall, watching the captain with curiosity.

“I met a kid today who couldn’t have been older than 16.  I was trying to remember what the city looked like before I went in the ice, and I accidentally bumped into her.  She then spent the next few minutes constantly apologizing and saying it was all her fault.  And the best part is, after we’d already walked away, she found and returned my wallet.  I hadn’t even realized I had dropped it!”  The 96-year-old man finished with a triumphant grin, leaving the rest of the team silent for a moment.  That is, until Tony busted out laughing.  Steve frowned.  “...What?”

“Steve, honey, check inside of your wallet,” Natasha sighed as she turned back to the tv to watch whatever was on.

Steve frowned, reached into his pocket, and pulled out his wallet.  “I don’t understand; why do you want me to....” He trailed off as he stared at the now empty pocket that only just earlier that day held around 65 dollars in cash.  “She... but how did she...”

Tony slapped a heavy hand on Steve’s shoulder, wiping away a tear from the corner of his eye.  “She scammed you, bro.  And you fell for it hook, line, and sinker,” he grinned before walking back to his room, still chuckling softly to himself at his friend’s misfortune.

------- Time Skip -------

About two weeks had passed since that godsend of a man and I crossed paths.  I can’t remember the last time I had managed to lift 65 dollars off anyone.  That kind of cash can last someone like me a really long time.  But sadly, all good things must come to an end, and after buying myself the first decent meal I’d had in weeks plus a ton of canned foods and non-perishables that I dropped off at the nearest homeless shelter, that good thing ended ended all too quickly.  Which meant it was time I went back to work.

I stepped into the public library, that same ambiguous smile painted ever so gently across my face.  There weren’t a whole lot of people here and there were almost never any big scores, but working here was a lot less guess-work, and more often than not, the target was too engrossed in their book to even notice what I was doing, so there was also much less risk of being caught.

After a quick scan of the quiet room, my eyes landed on the man sitting at one of the long tables, his bag haphazardly laying next to him on the table.  It should be easy enough to grab something from in there, and he seemed invested enough to have his guard down.  He should make for a good target.

I walked into the science section and grabbed a few scientific papers, most of which were generally about to nuclear physics, before walking back to his table and sitting down right across from him.  Scientific papers are the best way to make sure no one has the confidence to talk to you.  I opened the paper that I had read a hundred times and started pretending to read it once more, my left hand resting on my cheek as my right hand slowly made its way towards the bag.

“Excuse me.” I glanced up, pausing my movement towards his back but still being careful not to react too quickly and retract my hand.  I didn’t want to draw his attention to what I was doing, and if at all possible, I would still like to come out of this with something to show for it.  As I met the glasses-clad, clearly intelligent eyes of the man in front of me, it was easy to figure out what my personality should be -- shy, smart, and above all else, kind.  “Is that Schippers’s work?”

I blinked in surprise and allowed a soft smile to spread across my lips.  “You know Stefan Schippers?”

“Yeah, his work in antimatter is amazing,” he grinned fully now, his eyes lighting up and making him almost look like a completely different person.  “Particularly regarding his research in collisions.”

I grinned back, taking note of how his eyes were now trained on mine, instead of glancing around like before.  Maybe I should’ve started a conversation before -- clearly it was a good distraction for him.  Well, either way, it’s going to be easier to lift something off of him now, so I guess I shouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth.  “I completely agree.  His work is amazing,” I giggled softly, glancing down at the table before looking back up at him, a slight red hue now painting the apples of my cheeks as my hand slipped inside of his bag.

“I was honestly surprised to see you reading that paper, actually,” he chuckled nervously.  “I’ve read it at least 20 times, but I figured I was the only one.”  I laughed lightly, slipping what felt like a wallet out of the bag and tucking it under my arm.

“Trust me, I’ve read this so many times, I’m afraid the library is going to have to replace it because I’ve worn it out so much.  You know, if you’re interested in Schippers, you should read some of Dr. Banner’s papers,” I laid my left hand on his arm gently while my right arm swung back over to me, pushing the wallet into my lap.  “As much as I love Schippers, Dr. Banner’s work is unparalleled.”

The man chuckled nervously again, ducking his head a bit.  “You really think so, huh?  How old are you anyways?  I don’t see a whole lot of kids brushing up on nuclear physics.”

“I’m older than I look,” I casually brushed off the question.  I was not about to give up any personal information, fellow science geek or not.  “Oh, by the way, do you have the time?”

The man glanced at his watch.  “About 6:00.”

My eyes widened in shock.  “You’re kidding, it got that late?!  My dad’s gonna kill me!”  I gasped and quickly stood up, catching the wallet in my left hand and slipping it into my pocket.  “It was really nice meeting you, sir, but I have to go home.  I really liked talking to you, though!  I hope we can meet again!”  I hurriedly gathered the papers and rushed off, waving with a broad smile.

“Oh, uh nice meeting you... too...” he tried to respond, but she was already well out of sight.

-- 3rd Person POV -- 

“What the hell?” Bruce mumbled, digging through his bag.  The pizza had just arrived, and he needed to pay his share.

“What’s wrong?” Natasha glanced at him, an eyebrow raised.

“I could’ve sworn I put my wallet in here, but now I can’t find it,” he frowned, continuing to search every last nook and cranny of the old bag.

“Don’t worry about it, buddy, I can cover you if you’re short,” Tony shrugged.

“That’s not the issue,” Bruce frowned, finally giving up and tossing his bag to the side in frustration.  “That had my credit card, my driver’s license, and my ID for Stark Tower.  If it’s lost somewhere, it could be a real problem.”

“When was the last time you remember having it?”  Clint mumbled through a full mouth of the piece of pizza that he’d already shoved in his face.  Natasha rolled her eyes and wiped off the bit of spit he’d gotten on her in disgust.

“I was at the library.  I used my library card to check out some books,” he responded confidently.

“Again?” Clint asked, once again through a mouthful of cheese and marinara sauce.  “What, do you live there or something?”

“Ok, now walk us through exactly what happened after you checked out those books,” Natasha suggested, doing her best to ignore her best friend.

Bruce sighed and nodded, sitting down.  “I checked out my books, then walked over to one of the tables to start reading.  Then I talked to that teenager for a little while about some of Schippers’s theories before she ran off--”

“You talked to a teenager about Schippers?  And she actually understood?”  Tony asked, lifting a brow in surprise.

“Yeah, she even recommended I read Dr. Banner’s work in the same field,” Bruce chuckled.  “I thought it better not to tell her who I was, but according to her, Banner’s work is ‘unparalleled’.”

“Damn, the kid knows her stuff,” Tony nodded, impressed.  “Did she say anything about--”

“Boys,” Natasha cut in.  “The wallet.”

“Ah, right,” Bruce mumbled apologetically.  “Anyways, after she ran off, I kept reading for a few minutes before leaving, too.  Then I came back to the tower and got up here just in time to decide on ordering pizza with you guys.”

“Did you use the subway?” Natasha asked.

Bruce shook his head.  “No.  I figured since it was such a nice day out, I would just walk home.”

“How did you enter the building?”

“I ran into Steve downstairs, and we came in together.”

Steve, who had been silent up until this point, finally spoke up.  “This teenager... Was she about 16?  With (H/C) hair?”

“What, you think it’s the same girl who totally scammed you the other--” Tony started, getting ready to take part in his favorite pastime of making fun of Steve.

“Actually, yeah, she was,” Bruce answered, his eyes wide in realization.

Before anyone could say anything, Tony’s incredibly loud laughter filled the room.  “Holy shit, you guys both got scammed by the same teenager!  How does that even happen?!” He wheezed, laughing so hard he could hardly breath.

“Hey she seemed like a nice girl!” Bruce defended.  “How was I supposed to know she was robbing me?”

“Aren’t you supposed to be a genius or something?” Tony asked, tears streaming down his face now.  Bruce opened his mouth, trying to come up with something but came up blank.  A heavy hand landing on his shoulder knocked him out of his stupor.

“Just let it happen,” Steve sighed, his eyes cast down as he shook his head in sympathy.

------- Time Skip -------

It had been a week since I had spoken to that science nerd in the library, and I was still pissed.  Seriously, what kind of grown man only carries around 4 dollars and 36 cents?  Well, apparently, that weirdo did.  I had thrown out all the cards and IDs to at least sell the what looked to be leather wallet to a pawn shop, but apparently the thing wasn’t even leather!  All of that time, wasted for a measly 12 bucks.  I’ll say it again: I was pissed.

So, now I was back out working again, because the money I’d made was barely enough to buy a few snacks that I had to portion out over the course of the past week.

As I walked down the sidewalk, still grumbling softly to myself about what had happened, I saw him.  

Tony freaking Stark.

I grinned.  Maybe my luck was getting better after all.  I mean, a billionaire who’s famous for having, shall we say, questionable morals?  After all, it’s not exactly nice to sleep with as many women as humanly possible before tossing them away like they’re nothing.  I mean, sure there’s the whole iron man thing, but he’s still kind of a dick, let’s be honest.  And while I usually tried to refrain from taking anything major in case my target doesn’t have a whole lot of money or the object is sentimental, billionaire jerks are fair game.  And the best part was, I didn’t even have to read him to know the part I was going to play.  Tony Stark would only ever fall for one personality: sarcastic, quick-witted, and strong.

His head was down, buried in his phone, so I casually walked towards him, picking up an old cup of coffee from one of a nearby cafe’s outdoor tables, before smacking into him head-first, spilling the coffee everywhere.

“What the hell?!”

“Oh my god!” We both yelled at the same time.

“Oh c’mon, kid, this is silk!” Tony continued to shout, staring down at the coffee covering his chest.

“Hey, I’m not the one with my head buried in my phone while walking through one of the busiest cities in the world,” I snapped back.  “And you’re not the only one whose clothes got ruined.  This is cashmere!” I lied through my teeth.  It was a ratty old sweater that I’d bought for about 3 dollars at a thrift store.

Stark scoffed.  “Do you have any idea who I am?”

“Yeah, you’re Tony Stark.  That doesn’t change the fact that my parents are gonna be pissed about me ruining a hundred dollar sweater,” I rolled my eyes, crossing my arms defiantly.

That was when he finally glanced at me and my coffee-stained outfit.  Stark sighed and put his fingers to the bridge of his nose.  “Alright, I’m sorry.” Wait, what?  Since when does the great Tony Stark ever apologize for anything?  “I’ll pay for the dry-cleaning, ok?  Just give me your parents’ numbers.”

Shit, that’s not how this is supposed to go.  Ok, new strategy.  A sassy front but a kind interior.

I sighed and shook my head.  “No, it’s not entirely your fault.  I guess I could’ve tried to avoid you better.  Anyways, you got a pen and paper?”

Stark nodded slightly and reached into his inner pocket, pulling out a tiny pad and a fancy looking pen.  I quickly jotted down the phone number and handed it back to him.  Shoot, he looked like he was about to walk away.  I had to act quick or lose my chance.  Time to add one more very important characteristic to my identity: pitiable.  “Hey, I really am sorry.  I kind of overreacted.  It wasn’t cool.  I guess I just got a little nervous.  My dad likes things to be clean, and he can get pretty mad when I don’t follow that rule...” I trailed off a bit, glancing down at my feet.  I shook my head quickly and met the billionaire’s gaze, now filled with concern, again.  “Sorry, didn’t mean to dump that on you.  I just wanted to say thanks.”  I held out my right hand, praying that I’d guessed which hand to use correctly.  As Stark grabbed my hand, I had to hold back a sigh of relief when I saw the watch casually placed on his wrist.

“It was really nice meeting you, Mr. Stark,” I smiled a bit, with my left hand closing over his wrist while three of my fingers on my right hand undid the clasp on his watch.  Then I pressed down one the buttons on either side of the clasp with my middle finger on my right hand and my thumb on my left hand, making sure to hold the watch in place.  “If you’d like, I’d be happy to buy you a coffee to make up for it.  There’s a really nice café right over there.”  I squeezed the watch tightly with my left hand and jerked my chin towards the store just behind him.  He turned his head and looked, pulling his hand back slightly as he did so, which allowed me to slip the watch off his wrist.  Immediately, I dropped it in my pocket before he had a chance to turn back around.

“Thanks, kid, but I’m good.  I’ll give your parents a call when I get home, ok?”  He said before awkwardly giving me a pat on the shoulder.  “Now go run off and play with some dolls or whatever.”

I rolled my eyes.  “Thanks, but my collection can’t be nearly as big as yours,” I bit back with a slight, good-natured smirk.  “Anyways, I gotta go home and get yelled at by my parents.  Nice meeting you, Mr. Stark,” I called, waving to him as I was already leaving.

Stark shook his head with a small smile.  “Yeah, you too, kid.”

-- 3rd Person POV --

“What, no watch today?” Tony furrowed his brows at Bruce’s question.

“Of course I have a watch today.  I have a watch for every day of the week,” he scoffed, lifting his wrist to show off the rather expensive Rolex.

“Umm dude...?” Clint started.

“Yeah, I know it’s awesome, and no, you cannot try it on,” Tony smirked.  “I have a very strict look don’t touch policy.  These bad boys cost quite the pretty penny, and I wouldn’t want any of you trying to take it from me.”  Clint just shrugged in defeat and unpaused his video game -- it wasn’t his fault his friend interrupted him trying to help.

“Tony, look at your wrist,” Steve rolled his eyes at the pompous man’s antics.

“What, just so I can admire it--” he cut himself off as his eyes landed on the bare skin of his wrist.  “...Where the hell is my watch?”

“Maybe you forgot to put one on today?” Bruce shrugged, going back to his computer as he continued to work.

“No, I didn’t forget; I never forget,” Tony snapped.  “It was there this morning, and now it’s gone.”   He yanked up his sleeve to search in vain for the incredibly expensive missing item.

“Hey, maybe Tony was pick-pocketed, too,” Clint joked absentmindedly before cursing at some ‘dumbass little camping noob’ who kept killing him.

Tony’s eyes widened in realization.  “Holy shit, it was the kid.”

“What?” Steve frowned.

“The kid!  The kid who spilled coffee on me today!”  He shouted.  “I had my watch, then she shook my hand, and now the watch is gone.  She totally took it!”

Clint paused the game again.  “Wait, so basically some kid took your custom watch, which is worth thousands of dollars, right off your wrist, and you didn’t even notice?”  Tony bobbed his head up and down frantically.  “Hold on... You don’t think...” Clint glanced between the three other men in the room.

“(H/C) hair?” Steve asked.

“(E/C) eyes?” Bruce called, suddenly no longer able to focus on his work.

Tony nodded slowly with wide eyes.  Reality crashed down on all three of them.

A wide smile slowly took over Clint’s face.  “So you mean to tell me that three of the Avengers, the Earth’s greatest defenders, got scammed by the same teenage girl in less than a month?”  The three men were silent, each of them staring at the ground as they started to question how smart they actually were.

About 30 seconds later, the silence was broken.  “Nat, you’ll never believe what just happened.  I can’t believe you weren’t home for this,” Clint talked excitedly into the phone while his teammates all slowly left the room to sulk alone.

------- Time Skip -------

It had been a whole month since I had gotten the watch off Tony Stark.  I almost couldn’t believe my eyes when I saw the amount of zeros on the offer the pawn shop had given me.  It was probably one of the best days of my life.  Immediately, I had gone out and bought myself a meal at an actual restaurant, and let me tell you, they weren’t kidding when they said restaurant food is delicious.  Every protein bar and bag of chips in the world couldn’t live up to the food I ate that day.  And with that kind of money, I could be eating like that for maybe even a year!  Still, I knew what I had to do.  

It was almost Christmas.  With the money I’d just gotten, I could afford to buy each and every kid at the orphanage actual brand new presents that year, instead of the crummy second-hand stuff that had to be shared between three or four kids that I usually brought.  So, I went out and blew a good three quarters of my new budget on toys, and not the kind from thrift shops or even the ones from the big department stores.  I could finally get them toys from one of the fancy stores that had display windows.  And it was worth it, too, seeing the pure amazement that lit up those kids’ eyes when they saw there was enough for all of them.  I then spent another quarter of the money on nonperishable foods that I donated to the homeless shelter plus one massive turkey for their Christmas feast. 

After all of that, I was left with around 20 dollars for myself.  Usually I can make money like that last with just a few extra marks, but as the month dragged on and less and less people were out on the streets at night, my budget ran thin.  Eventually, I reached my breaking point.  I’d gone I think four days now without any food.  My stomach growled loudly, begging me to give it something, anything.  I just sighed and receded further into the fabric of my thin, worn down coat that I’d found a few days back by a dumpster -- the coat I used to wear long traded in for a couple spare dollars.  Sure, the wind cut through it like a knife, but hell, it was better than nothing.

I glanced up as I heard the crunching of footsteps in the snow, my heard immediately leaping into my throat at the prospect of there being people out.  I frowned when I saw who they were.  A couple walking together, chatting away about something or another.  Normally, I would never choose a couple to target -- it was too easy for one of them to spot what I was doing to the other -- but I had gotten desperate.  I was freezing cold, and I needed food now.

So, I walked directly towards them and crashed my shoulder into the guy’s, my hand slipping into his pocket.  I thanked whatever higher power was watching over me when my hand came into contact with a money clip.

“Sorry,” I mumbled and slipped my hand back out before continuing to walk at a casual pace away from the two, tucking the clip into my pocket.

-- 3rd Person POV --

“Well that was rude,” Clint huffed, dusting himself off.

Natasha stared at the back of the young girl who continued to walk away like nothing had happened.  “Hey, Clint,” she muttered.

“Yeah?”

“Where’s your wallet?”

“I put it back in my... pocket....” Clint froze when he realized he couldn’t feel the familiar clip in his jacket pocket.  He whirled around to look at the girl, who was already a ways away.  “Hey!  Get back here!”  He screamed, breaking into a run, Natasha quickly following suit.

-- Your POV --

“Hey!  Get back here!”  I glanced back with wide eyes, my heart leaping into my throat before immediately sprinting.

I ran through the snow, turning right and left through back alleys and narrow shortcuts, thanking my past self for never eating well, as my skinny form was able to stay on top of the snow for the most part.  Still, somehow I hadn’t lost the two adults chasing me yet.  They had barely fallen a foot or two behind over the last eight blocks.  My stamina was quickly running out, the malnourishment over the past week finally catching up to me.  I felt dizzy, and my chest burned as I focused on continuing to put one foot in front of the other.  I turned down an alleyway with a brick wall at the end.

“Ha!  We’ve finally caught you!”  The man behind me panted.  I completely ignored him, not pausing a single step as I sprinted towards the wall.

“Uhh, hey, kid?  Rock beats teenager...” He called warily.  I continued to ignore him.  I was only five feet away.  “Stop, you’re gonna hurt yourself!” he shouted just before I jumped, pressing my feet into the bricks to launch my further and further up.  I reached as high as I could and just barely caught the edge of the wall with my fingertips.  I swung my other arm up and forced my arms to pull myself to the top.

I panted as I gazed down from the top of the wall, the couple staring back up at me.  “Holy shit,” the man muttered, to which the woman immediately smacked him in the arm.

“I’m sorry,” I said softly.  “I was hungry.”  I wasn’t really sure why I was apologizing.  Granted, I knew what I was doing wasn’t very nice, but I don’t recall ever apologizing before.  Maybe it’s because they reminded me of my parents -- or, at least, what I imagined my parents to be like.  Maybe it’s because I was so dizzy that I couldn’t really think straight.  I nodded slightly to the two before turning around, preparing myself to jump down the other side.

Suddenly, a massive wave of dizziness and nausea smacked me in the face.  I groaned slightly and put my hand to my forehead, trying to get a hold of myself.  Evidently, that didn’t work, because the next thing I knew, I was falling.

Time seemed to slow as I fell through the air.  I probably shouldn’t pass out right now, the surprisingly calm thought entered my mind.  If I do, I’ll most likely just freeze to death.  Then again, passing out would save me a lot of pain from falling.  Alright, I guess that’s it then.  I’ll pass out now and hope I wake up in time to not die.  My eyes fluttered closed just before I hit the ground, the fog in my brain thickening as I finally allowed myself to just give in to it.

-- 3rd Person POV --

Clint grunted as he caught the girl.  He was expecting to fall to the ground with her, only really serving to break her fall, but was surprised to find that she wasn’t even heavy enough to knock him down.  Natasha made her way over to his side, looking down at the little thief in her friend’s arms.

“She’s light as a feather,” Clint murmured with a frown on his face, “and freezing to the touch.”

“She said she was hungry,” Natasha muttered thoughtfully.

Clint grit his teeth and nodded, determined.  “Alright, that settles it.  We’re taking her back to the tower.”

Natasha glanced at him warily.  “You sure?  The others might not be so accepting.”

“They’re gonna have to be,” he stated, already walking back, holding the girl as close as he could in an attempt to warm her up.

[heyitssmiller]

Clandestine: Chapter Eight

Ready for more angst?

@lumosinlove you’re my hero <3

So much thanks to my partner in angst, @donttouchmycarrots

CW: mentions of violence, blood, panic attack

Clandestine Masterlist

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Logan paced the width of the hotel room; back and forth, back and forth, like a tiger cooped up in a too-small enclosure. Leo sat on Finn’s side of the bed and traced shapes into the plain white duvet, imagining that he was following the same path Finn’s fingers had taken just the day before.

Finn.

He bit down on the inside of his cheek until he tasted blood and looked up at Logan. Back and forth, back and forth. Sirius and Loops hadn’t been in contact for about thirty minutes now. They’d been trying to get a location on Finn via the tracker he’d had in his com earpiece. Well they’d found the earpiece, but it must’ve been thrown out the car window because the trail ended on the side of the street with a tracker that had been smashed almost past recognition. Leo was strangely relieved about it. It was better than the alternative that his brain had been all too quick to jump to.

They got a license plate number from one of the stoplight cameras, though, so they were running that through the system and hoping they’d get a hit. Seeing that it was the Snakes and that they had so much control over everything that happened in the city, Leo thought their chances were pretty slim.

Back and forth, back and forth.

“Lo.”

There was no indication that Logan had even heard him.

“Logan.”

Still no response.

Leo rose to his feet and crossed the small room to catch Logan’s arm, finally putting a stop to the relentless pacing. Blank green eyes finally met his and Leo sighed, aching at the sight. “Sweetheart,” he murmured sadly, pulling the fighter into a hug. He was tense for a while, not moving to return the embrace and just breathing shakily through his nose.

“Talk to me.” Leo urged simply, unsure of what else to say. This wasn’t ok, he couldn’t pretend like it was. And he knew this conversation was going to be hard – god, he was barely keeping it together himself – but they still needed to have it. There was no point running from it. The only thing left to do was to face the daunting cliff they were careening towards and jump.

“We missed our chance.” Logan whispered, voice breaking towards the end as he pressed his forehead against Leo’s collarbone and leaned heavily against him. He felt small and useless and helpless as he squeezed his eyes shut. We were supposed to talk to him tomorrow and now he’s not here.

Leo’s cheek came to rest on the crown of his head as a sad noise escaped from his lips. “You don’t know that.”

But they both knew it wasn’t looking good.

“This is exactly why I wanted a transfer.”

Logan realized his mistake a millisecond too late. Leo stiffened, then pulled away to look at him. “What are you talking about?” When he didn’t answer, Leo tilted his chin up to meet his eyes. “What do you mean, transfer?”

He jerked his chin away and refused to look into baby blue eyes. “It was a while back, don’t worry about it.”

“Logan.”

“What do you want me to say?” Logan demanded, his white-knuckled grip on his emotions quickly giving out. “My purpose on this mission was supposed to be backup if needed, but they hired me mainly to make sure the mission got done, even if things got messy. And once… once feelings entered the picture, how was I supposed to focus on the mission instead of on keeping the two of you safe? If it came down to it, choosing between the two of you and this op would be too easy to do. I knew it was putting the mission at risk so I asked for a transfer, but we didn’t have any other agents available.” He ran a hand through his hair roughly, breathing in shakily. “And now I’m living in one of my own fucking nightmares because this is on me.”

And if that wasn’t a knife in Leo’s chest. Logan deflated before his eyes, head hanging low, the picture of a man utterly defeated. “Finn’s gone and it’s all on me.”

The knife twisted cruelly.

“It’s not-”

“Bullshit,” Logan spat as he shoved Leo away. “Don’t even finish that sentence. I knew something was wrong, I knew it-”

Leo grabbed his hands firmly and pulled them against his chest, keeping him from moving farther away. “And I was the one who told you that you were worrying too much. If we’re going to be playing the blame game, you’re not shouldering it alone.” His eyes and nose were all red now, and Logan could feel the stutter in his breathing. “Sometimes it’s ok to not be ok, Tremz.”

“Peanut-” Logan watched as tears spilled over and down Leo’s cheeks, his lower lip trembling. He’d never seen the blond cry before and, oh, he hated it. His fingers twitched to reach for him, but he couldn’t help but hesitate. No matter how many times he’d managed to be gentle with Leo, Logan still wasn’t accustomed to it – he was used to callouses from training too long with a weapon, to split, bloody knuckles after a fight, to using those hands to hurt.

He never wanted to hurt the one standing in front of him.

“Come here,” he mumbled finally and reached up to wipe away a tear ever-so-gently, keeping the pressure feather-light against the delicate arch of his cheekbone. “Leo-”

Leo exhaled sharply as he collided with Logan, and it seemed like his entire body was shaking. Logan held him close, backed them up so that they were beside the bed and sat down heavily, guiding Leo down with him as his own eyesight got blurry. His hand came to rest in fluffy blond curls as they sat there and held each other and allowed themselves to ache.

He wasn’t sure how long they stayed there, all he knew was that he practically catapulted himself across the room when his phone started ringing.

“Loops?” He demanded as soon as he picked up, putting the phone on speaker and returning to his spot next to Leo, who ran the coarse material of his sweatshirt sleeve against his cheeks and sniffled. Logan held the phone in one hand and used the other to tug Leo closer. They both needed the contact.

“The license plate was a bust,” Loops cut to the chase, words firm but gentle. “Luckily for us, though, we’ve got an ex-Snake on our side.”

Sirius’ voice reached them next. “I've narrowed it down to three possible locations where they could be keeping Finn.”

Logan didn’t hesitate. “So we send agents to all of them, plan a coordinated attack.”

“Tremblay, the mission-”

“Fuck the mission. And fuck the Snakes. This is Finn.” He snarled, pulling up short when he heard a sharp inhale beside him. He looked over at Leo, then down to the hand he was gripping way too hard. He dropped Leo’s hand in an instant, guiltily retracting his own to rest in his lap with a wince.

So much for being gentle.

Shit.

Delicate, nimble fingers traced along the tendons stretching across the back of Logan’s clenched fist and uncurled his hand. He watched as those same fingers laced their way between his and squeezed back just as hard as he had earlier – a strong, steady lifeline that Logan desperately grabbed hold of and clung to for dear life.

He barely listened as Loops started talking about how they needed to be careful and think this through – which was true, he knew that. But a big part of him simply didn’t care. He was done sitting on the sidelines, waiting for something to go wrong. Maybe it was time to be a little reckless. This seemed like a high risk, high reward situation if Logan had ever seen one.

“We’re going to get some analysts in and figure out what our next move is going to be.” Remus said seriously. “That doesn’t mean we’re sitting back and doing nothing, we just need to be smart about this. We’re not leaving him there. I promise.”

“His brother,” Leo whispered, his grip tightening. “Finn said he had a brother who’s a spy down in Florida. Has anyone contacted him yet?”

There was silence on the other end of the line.

“He deserves to know.” Logan swallowed thickly, another crack forming in his heart. “If it was one of my sisters, I’d want to know.”

“We’ll call him.” Sirius vowed solemnly. Of all people, he was sure to understand that. “You two need to try and get some rest. We’ll be in contact tomorrow.”

Logan just barely held back a snort. Rest. That wasn’t going to be happening any time soon. He just knew he was going to be spending the night staring at the ceiling, all too aware of the glaringly empty space beside him.

God, Finn.

Leo moved suddenly to pull his hand away, startling Logan out of his thoughts and making him hold on that much harder, an instinctive action. For an irrational split-second he was convinced Leo was leaving him, too. Something written on his face must’ve given him away because Leo’s eyes softened and he scooted closer, pressing a kiss to his temple.

“Sweetheart,” he sighed against Logan’s skin, staying close. Logan let his eyes close and breathed him in, free hand fisting in the material of his sweatshirt and pulling him impossibly closer. A car alarm started blaring in the parking lot outside, but neither of them moved. Logan didn’t even flinch at the abruptness of the sound. All he could think about was Finn, god knows where, alone. Without them.

They were a package deal. You weren’t supposed to have one without the other two.

But now one was gone and in danger and Logan was livid. At himself, at this situation, at this damn job.

He needed to fix this.

***

Remus sifted through another digital file, unsure what exactly he was looking for but pushing on nonetheless. Eventually, if he read enough, he’d find something useful. Being so far away from the action was frustrating – an uncomfortable itch under Remus’ skin. All he wanted to do was help, to rectify the situation that had turned south before he could even recognize that there was a problem. His nonchalance, his negligence had cost them an agent and a friend. There had to be something in those files somewhere.

“You need to get some sleep.” The familiar voice of his roommate said, forcing Remus to take his eyes off the laptop and squint up at him, his eyes taking a while to adjust from the screen. Sirius was in his pajamas, which made Remus frown. What time was it, exactly?

“It’s late.” Sirius answered his unspoken question, a hint of a smile gracing his face. “And you need to sleep.”

“I need to research-”

Sirius was at the table in an instant, closing the laptop firmly. “You’re of no use to them when you’re so tired you can’t think straight.”

Remus glared up at him, but he really couldn’t keep it up for long. He looked back down at the table and his tea, which was long cold, pigment settling to the bottom of the mug. He was exhausted. “Ok. Sleep.”

There was a soft look on Sirius’ face, warm and open and affectionate. Remus wasn’t quite sure what to make of it. Sure, he had his suspicions about how the ex-Snake felt for him, but taking that next step was still daunting. There was still a lot stacked against them and no matter how much Remus wanted him – or how much Sirius wanted him back – it would still complicate things. Even then, he was tempted to just throw caution to the wind and say fuck it.

Some things were worth the complications.

“Sleep.” Sirius reiterated with a quiet laugh, then he gestured with his hand that he was keeping his eyes on Remus before disappearing into the bathroom. Remus smiled and shook his head fondly, taking his cup of cold tea and dumping it in the sink. He was living with a secret dork. He… didn’t hate the thought as much as he would have a few months ago.

After placing the mug in the dishwasher, Remus started his nightly routine – checking the locks on the front door, closing all the blinds, turning off the lights. He was walking down the hall towards his room when a head suddenly poked out around the doorframe to the bathroom, making Remus jump. Sirius stood there, toothbrush in his mouth, giving him an approving look.

There was no hiding the smile on Remus’ face. “Yes, yes, I’m going to bed. You don’t have to supervise me.”

Sirius’ next words were garbled by the toothbrush in his mouth, but the rough translation Remus got was “just checking”. That was the only translation that made sense, anyways. He continued his path to the bedroom and got ready to sleep, changing into a threadbare t-shirt and brushing his teeth before turning the light off and crawling into bed with a weary sigh.

Tomorrow. He’d start formulating a plan to get Finn out of the mess he was in tomorrow.

Movement from the corner of his eye caught his attention. Sirius was standing in the doorway, looking almost hesitant.

“Just making sure you didn’t smuggle your laptop in here.”

There was a smile in Remus’ voice – even he could hear it. “I told you I was going to bed, and I am. You should, too.”

“Noted.” There was a pause, heavy with words unsaid and sentiments kept hidden in the recesses of their minds. Remus could just barely see him in the darkness – he was mostly just a dark silhouette, stark against the light from the hallway. Remus shouldn’t be doing this. And yet-

“Sirius.”

“Hmm?” He questioned, stopping in his motion of closing the bedroom door.

Remus only let himself hesitate a split-second. “Stay?” he blurted, ridiculously grateful for the cover of darkness so that Sirius didn’t witness his grimace. “I just mean – that couch can’t be comfy to sleep on. And… and I’m not sure I want to be alone right now.”

Even though he couldn’t see him, he could sense Sirius’ smile. “Sure.” He left for just a few seconds to turn off the hallway light, then returned without even stumbling once.

“Do you have night vision or something?” Remus snarked, shifting over on the bed to make room. The bed dipped and then Sirius was settling in next to him, radiating more warmth already than the heating system in the apartment. Remus refrained from moving in closer, but it was a close thing.

“Snuck into my brother’s bedroom all the time when I was a kid.” He mused, pulling the blankets up a little higher as he got comfortable. “Got pretty good at maneuvering around in the dark.”

Remus couldn’t help but smile at that. “Me too.”

They went quiet after that, Sirius’ breathing slow and even, a metronome keeping the time as they both tried to sleep. Remus really did try but he couldn’t seem to turn his brain off, constantly aware of just who was in his bed right that second. He sucked in a determined breath, then rolled onto his side to face his roommate.

“Sirius.”

“Hmm?” Sirius repeated, quieter this time. Even this close he still couldn’t see much, only what the not-quite full moon illuminated for him – a strong jaw, the slope of his nose, the glint to his dark hair. It would be so easy to just close the distance between them and kiss him. He wanted to.

On top of that, he was pretty sure Sirius wanted him to.

He’d always thought getting here would be complicated and confusing and require so much talking. Well, they were here now and they didn’t really have to say a word, which surprised Remus. But there was this… charge between them, polar and magnetic, that pushed the two together as naturally and easily as taking their next breaths. At this point it felt almost inevitable, no longer worth fighting against Remus’ better judgement.

He tasted like the toothpaste Remus always bought. The cheap, off-brand one he’d used as a kid and just kept on using as he grew up. Remus wasn’t sure he could ever use that toothpaste without thinking of him now, him and the way he tangled their legs together and ran his tongue across the seam of Remus’ lips, urging them open. Remus hummed against his lips and kissed him back; the only thought going through his head was finally.

Sirius threw a leg across Remus’ to straddle his hips and then moved to balance over him, a looming, faceless shadow in the dark.

And Remus froze, the feeling of being caged-in catapulting him back all those years ago to the floor of an otherwise empty warehouse, a fierce hand on his shoulder pulling and pulling and pulling-

“You good?” Sirius breathed, pressing a quick, careful kiss to the hinge of his jaw, nose brushing against his cheek as he leaned back to look at Remus. The soft, concerned way he said it brought Remus back to reality quickly.

He was ok. This was ok.

“Mmhmm.” Remus pulled Sirius closer by the hips, greedy for the contact, the knowledge that he wasn’t alone in some dimly-lit warehouse. There were cool sheets underneath him, the sound of his ancient heating system rattling away as it worked, and the taste of toothpaste in his mouth. The figure hovering over him was smaller, more compact. The eyes that gleamed in the dark were gray, not dark and feral. The hand gripping his shoulder wasn’t intended to hurt but to anchor, to soothe. He sighed into their next kiss and finally let himself relax against the pillows, safe in Sirius’ arms – a sentence he never thought he’d say, but he sure was grateful for evolving circumstances.

***

They were taking a break from bashing Finn’s face in, apparently.

He warily watched the two Snakes that entered the room, eyesight hindered by one swollen, puffy eyelid. They didn’t approach him, though, instead choosing to stand between him and the open door – a clear attempt at reminding Finn just who was in control of this situation.

He couldn’t help but smile sarcastically. If they had to use subliminal messages to come across as intimidating, they were getting desperate.

And Finn wasn’t cracking.

He was morbidly curious to see what they had in mind.

He leaned back against the wall and regarded them, feigning uninterest. “What’s on the agenda for this meeting, boys?”

Two identical glares were shot his way. Finn shrugged, stretching his legs out in front of him and crossing them at the ankle while holding back a wince. “I’d like a printed-out itinerary, when you get a chance.”

“We just want to talk.”

Finn snorted. “That’s worked really well so far.”

“We’ve got some incentive for you this time.”

“Ooh, that sounds interesting.” He said, wiggling his eyebrows. “Is this a guessing game? Because I’ve definitely got a few ideas brewing that would be great incentive: a large meat lovers pizza – extra cheese, please – oh, or a TV! It gets terribly boring when you leave me here all by my lonesome. A book would also be adequate.”

The two looked at each other. The shorter one on the right looked exhausted, and – to quote one Leo Knut, bless his heart. Finn grinned. He could practically hear the phrase in a sarcastic, too-sweet drawl. Apparently it didn’t always mean what most people thought it meant in the south.

As if they could read his mind the tired-one said, “Your partners. The ones that came barging into the restaurant and caused quite the scene.”

Of course they did, those dumbasses. Finn just knew Logan had been leading the charge; he was too hot-headed for his own good.

“They’re long gone by now,” he bluffed, although he knew better. They were still camped out in that hotel room, plotting. He was sure of it. He ached a little at the thought – a nauseating combination of worry and homesickness and knowing that they were hurting because of him and his inability to recognize that he’d been drugged, for god’s sake. Some agent he was. “So good luck finding them.”

“Really? That’s interesting,” The taller of the two crossed his arms over his chest. “Our sources tell us they’re still in the city.”

Tired-Snake pulled a picture out of the folder in his hand and handed it over to Finn. A blond and a brunet, pressed as close together as they possibly could and looking down at the same phone screen in a small hotel room. A hotel room he was all too familiar with, seeing that he was just there earlier that day. He could see his dress shoes in the exact same place he’d kicked them off after the gala, one still on its side. Finn wanted to see his partners again more than anything, but not like this – used like bargaining chips to get him to talk.

He could use this, though, if he played his cards right. So he let his eyes widen and over-exaggerated the trembling of his hand as he held onto the picture too tight. The fear was real – he didn’t have to act too hard this time. The words he said, however…

“I don’t know what you want me to say. They were backup, that’s all.” Technically not all a lie, but definitely not truthful either. “I was supposed to go in, gather as much intel as I could, and get out. That’s it. What else would I have been doing in a public place like that?”

The Snakes looked at each other, then back at Finn. They were at this strange impasse – they didn’t know that Gryffindor was going after the flash drives, and Finn wasn’t supposed to know about the flash drives in the first place. Neither of them could bring them up without revealing how much they knew.

“What were you going to use the intel for?” Tired-one asked finally. “What are you planning?”

“You expect me to know? I’m just a field agent. I get the intel, then immediately hand it over to the analysts and let them do their thing. I’m at the bottom of the food chain, dudes. I don’t know shit. Just-” he hesitated for longer than he needed to, reeling the Snakes in with his performance – the battle of conflicting emotions on his face, the nervous tapping of his foot, the way he bit his lip and winced when he remembered that it was already split. “Just leave them alone, ok? They don’t know any more than I do about all this.”

The taller Snake grabbed the picture from him, watching Finn hesitate to give it back. “Cooperate, and that won’t be an issue.”

As soon as the door closed behind them, Finn relaxed his control over his expressions and glared like he’d been wanting to for so long. Because really. How dare they threaten his boys.

They should’ve known that would only give him more incentive to throw them as far off the trail as he possibly could.

***

Logan wasn’t sleeping, but that didn’t change the fact that he nearly jumped out of his skin when Leo sat bolt upright in bed with a sudden gasp.

“Nutty, what the hell-”

“I just thought of something.” He rushed to say, voice deep and scratchy from lack of use. He threw the sheets off, scrambled out of bed, and let all the cold air in as he turned the light on and hurried to the tiny hotel closet. Logan glared after him, grabbing the duvet and tucking it up around his chin again.

“What’s up?” He watched Leo hesitate at what he came across in the closet – a dark suit haphazardly thrown on a hanger, tie hanging from the hook. The tiniest of reminders of who used to be there with them – who should still be there with them. The blond took a deep breath and moved it aside, reaching for his own gray suit and digging around in the pockets for something. Logan sat up as he watched, brow furrowing. “Nutty?”

“Regulus slipped me his number at that party.” Leo explained, finally finding what he was looking for and pulling out a small business card. “Why didn’t I think of this earlier? If he knows anything, maybe he’ll tell us.”

Logan sighed and stared up at the ceiling, trying to tamp down the hope threatening to well up. “If they’re not keeping tabs on who he’s calling and messaging, what he’s saying.”

“He’s high up – why would they doubt him?”

“Because he’s got a brother who got out.”

“He thought Sirius was dead.” Leo pointed out, flopping back onto the bed and grabbing his phone from where it was plugged in on the nightstand. “So why wouldn’t the rest of the Snakes?” The glow from the screen illuminated a look of such blind optimism that probably hurt Logan more than it should have. Because one of these days, Leo would only be disappointed.

“He’s on our side, according to Sirius.” Leo continued as he tapped out a message. “I think he’ll help.”

Logan figured it was worth a shot. They were running low on options and he was willing to try just about anything if it meant getting Finn back. He rolled onto his stomach and peered over Leo’s shoulder at the screen right as he hit send.

Regulus looked down at his phone as it buzzed, seeing a text from an unknown number.

Is he ok?

He let out a long-suffering sigh, puffing out his cheeks as he did so. He’d only given this number to one person recently and that was quickly proving to be a mistake. They were going to do something stupid, weren’t they? And that put him in a very uncomfortable spot. Did he help them and risk getting caught, or did he let them try some half-assed plan on their own – because they would, he had no doubts about that – and risk never being able to get out of here?

Both options were unappealing.

“Everything ok?” Finn questioned around a bite of the food Regulus had smuggled in for him, quickly bringing Regulus out of his thoughts.

Well I’m currently debating on helping your boyfriends bust you out of here. Does that count as ok?

“None of your business.” He said instead, not sparing Finn another glance. If Finn had any idea what was going on, he’d try to put a stop to it. Regulus knew the type – self-sacrificing idiots. He’d rather sit there and get beaten to a pulp than put the other two in danger. Best to save him the extra stress and just not say anything.

Plus, this could be his chance to get out too. Instead of trying to get out on his own and then having no safe connections outside the Snakes besides his brother, he’d have a group to travel with. Safety in numbers, and all that. People who actually knew where they were going and who would watch his back. They would owe him after this, and that meant a leg up. It meant a safety net.

Regulus unlocked his phone again and started typing.

Listen carefully.

[novelconcepts]

for the prompt, please do dani and jamie with 22 thank you :)

prompt: kissing someone’s cuts/bruises/scratches

Jamie can’t remember the last time she needed someone to tend her cuts and scrapes. Can’t remember, even, the last time she wanted as much from another person. There’s something too vulnerable about holding out an open wound and saying, Here. Please. I can’t do it alone. 

Jamie can do it alone, is the thing. Has done for so long, she’s forgotten what it was to want another person’s skin brushing her own, another person’s eyes concerned for her well-being. It’s become second-nature, pushing all of that aside. How many times has she wandered into the kitchen, a cloth pressed firmly to a torn-open patch of wrist or palm, and scoffed at Owen’s worry? How many times has Hannah strolled into the room to find her bracing an ice pack against a freshly-bruised knee, rolling her eyes heavenward at her own clumsy misfortune? It’s natural, courting injury as she maneuvers the grounds. Almost easier than it should be. 

She’s never wanted anyone to fix it for her. Never trusted, if she’s honest, anyone to have the touch. People are too soft. Too twitchy about doing damage. As if there’s any helping a thing like that.

She’s never wanted it--

But Dani, meeting her in the doorway of the greenhouse, has an expression she’s never seen before. Not open worry, not nauseous distaste--an almost perfect, steady calm. 

“Let me.”

No question mark at the end of the sentence. No hopeful sway to Dani’s hips, no itchy pull of Dani’s fingers along the elbows of her own jumper. Dani’s face is set, determined, almost as though she’s been waiting for this day since the first time their eyes met. 

“No need,” Jamie says, though her head is pounding. Dani is plainly unimpressed. 

“C’mere. Sit down.”

She can’t explain why she obeys; her body seems primed to follow instruction, perhaps as evidence of a concussion. There is a split above her brow where a tumbling branch caught her just right, and privately, she’s relieved--that it was her standing beneath the tree as the wind jerked it out of place, and not one of the kids. Jamie had been quick enough to dodge aside. If it had been Flora, if it had been Miles...

Better me. I can take it.

Dani has a kit in hand, she realizes, lifted from the manor bathroom. Sitting beside Jamie on the sofa, she tears open a single-use alcohol wipe. She hesitates only once, one hand hovering beside Jamie’s jaw; when Jamie nods, that hand takes her chin, fingers splayed gently to tip her head back. 

“Deep breath.”

“I’m fine,” Jamie starts to say, the words hissing out of her when Dani angles the wipe against the edge of the wound. It’s small, thankfully--the branch had been, too, though Jamie knows better than anyone that size is no measure of danger--but the sting clenches her teeth together. She closes her eyes, trying her best to disassemble the pain and piece it back together into a more enjoyable sensation.

Not the burn, but the soft pressure of Dani’s hand on her skin.

Not the throb running a path along her skull, but the warmth of Dani’s breath mingling with her own.

Maybe this isn’t better, she realizes. Maybe it is infinitely worse, fixing on Dani’s knee pressed to her thigh, Dani’s hand cradling her cheek as though she doesn’t even know she’s doing it. Her eyes flick open to find Dani leaning close, inspecting the wound with an unflappable composure.  

“It isn’t deep,” she says. “Might scar a little, though.”

“Not my first,” Jamie quips before she can stop herself. Dani’s eyebrows raise, her lips curving in a small smile. 

“You’ve got stories.”

Not a question--and not a pressure, either. Just an easy statement. Sometimes, this is just Dani’s way: neat, straightforward, to the point. Jamie wonders what kind of life shapes a woman this way, to navigate the grip of anxiety one moment and turn utterly steadfast the next. She’d like to know. She’ll never push. Dani is a co-worker, nothing more; the last thing Jamie needs is to go crossing bounds again.

“Thank you,” she says, as Dani fishes out a bandage and some tape. “Didn’t, uh. Didn’t need--”

Dani silences her with another smile, tinged with something so like sadness, it puts any knock on the head to shame. “When I was little,” she says, “I was always getting hurt. I was a clumsy kid, I guess. Fell down a lot--out of trees, off my bike. My dad was always the one to take care of it.”

Jamie says nothing. This is the most Dani’s ever spoken directly to her, and she finds the bounce and curve of her Midwestern accent strangely comforting. 

“He wasn’t really a typical dad that way, I guess,” Dani goes on, gently holding the cotton bandage up to the wound. She reaches down, clasps Jamie’s wrist, eases her up to hold the square in place. “Hang onto that a sec. My dad, he was...softer than other kids’. He always knew how to clean my scrapes without making me cry. Never quite got the hang of that, after--he died when I was eight, I dunno if you knew that--”

Jamie shakes her head. Dani, patiently cutting a strip of tape, shrugs.

“Got sick. Was gone almost before I knew it. And my mom was never...much good at any of that, so I had to learn how to patch myself up. The alcohol was always the worst part. Almost.”

“Almost?” Jamie repeats. Dani is replacing her hand with deft fingers, adhering the bandage with simple efficiency. When she checks a mirror later, she suspects the whole affair will be neat, orderly, perfectly applied. 

“Yeah,” Dani says, leaning back to observe her handiwork. She seems satisfied, piling everything back into the first aid kit, closing it with a click. “Worst part was after. He would always find the best bandaid--something brightly-colored, or with cartoon characters--and then he’d lean over whatever I’d busted open that day, and he’d kiss the spot twice. Once for forgiveness, he always said, to let the skin know he didn’t blame it for bleeding. And once for healing. Two kisses, every time. It felt like magic. I could never...”

She quiets, her smile fading. It’s too easy for Jamie to imagine a small girl with a blonde braid, kissing her own scraped knee after a fall, knowing full-well it wouldn’t be the same. Too easy to imagine Dani at eight--eleven--thirteen, patching herself back together on her own. 

“Well,” Jamie says, clearing her throat. “You left a bit out, then.”

Dani raises her eyes, frowning. “Sorry?”

“Did the patching,” Jamie points out. Her mouth is weirdly dry, her head thundering away. This is, she senses, navigating too close to the brink of something. Friendship, maybe. Or just Dani thinking she’s making fun. And still, she can’t stop herself. “Seems like you forgot the magic.”

Dani hesitates, her hands folded in her lap. She’s picking, Jamie realizes, at one cuticle, nearly enough to tear the skin. 

“Go on, then,” she adds, heartened to see Dani’s grave expression tilting toward the sun. “Forgiveness and healing. Could use a little of both, maybe.”

She doesn’t know what she expects, exactly--even saying this feels like the product of insanity, a crack on the head urging her toward things she’d never normally try--but Dani draws a breath. Folds a hand around the back of her head, fingers sifting into curls. Leans forward.

It hurts, a little, Dani pressing her lips to the bandage, though she knows Dani is being gentle. Hurts a little, and sparks something Jamie hadn’t meant to let in, too. She closes her eyes, Dani’s kiss seeming to scorch. 

“Once for forgiveness,” Dani murmurs, lips brushing the skin of her forehead. Another kiss, sweet and soft and sending an electric charge down her spine. “Once for healing.”

She doesn’t lean back, not right away--her hand is warm, her eyes searching Jamie’s, and for a single beat, Jamie wants to tilt her chin. Coax that gentle kiss to find her lips. Change it all. 

The concussion, she assures herself, responsible for the reckless impulse. Responsible, too, for the thread of disappointment coiling in her stomach when Dani removes her hand, places it back in her lap, shakes her head almost ruefully.

“He was better at it.”

“Maybe,” Jamie says. “But I can be clumsy, too. Stay long enough, you might get enough practice to measure up.”

Dani meets her eyes, looking embarrassed, looking delighted. Jamie rubs the back of her neck, casting around for a way out of this hole she’s dug. 

“Listen to me. Take enough thumps to the head, I’m gonna starting spewing puns like Owen.”

“Oh no,” Dani laughs. “Anything but that.”

She has to go, she explains, back to the kids. Jamie’s welcome to join them--she’s got a game of cards planned, and they could use a fourth. Jamie almost agrees. Almost lets herself follow Dani into the house, her fingers straying mindlessly to brush the fresh bandage sealed with a kiss. 

“Shouldn’t,” she says--to Dani, to herself, to the burgeoning heat in her cheeks as she recalls how gently Dani had pressed her lips to the wound. “Work to be done, y’know.”

Dani nods. “See you at dinner?”

She should say no to that, too. Should go home to her little flat, to the quiet which always makes perfect sense, which never turns up with a first aid kit and assertive hands. 

“Yeah. Dinner.” She’s smiling. Dani, leaning against the doorframe, is, too. 

“No more knocks on the noggin,” she adds with mock-gravity. Jamie snorts, gives a careless little salute. 

“No fuckin’ promises.”

It’s difficult to say what’s harder to ignore, when Dani’s gone and the work rises up to meet her once more. Hard to say which part--the thumping of the headache, or the memory of Dani Clayton’s lips pressed to her forehead--has a greater hold on the rest of her day. No one asks, and she’s honestly relieved. 

If asked, Jamie would insist the headache has won out. If asked, she’d have no other choice.

If asked, Jamie would absolutely lie. 

[smellslikemultifandomimagines]

smut prompts  9, 10, 16, & 23

ao3 request: The reader is Jason’s lover and is very quiet and a bit timid, but at night, she is cold and collected to focus on her vigilante work. She and Jason only made love once and she wants to do it again, but she thinks she’ll be boring bc she doesn’t have much experience unlike Jason. Batgirl offers advice, which involves seducing and making Jason mad. For the next few days, S/O has pretended not to notice her tempting Jason, sitting on his lap, teasingly touching his crotch or other parts, usually leaving early for work or other chores, all increasing Jason’s temptation. Finally, one night, they had to investigate some illegal work in a night club, and Batgirl dresses S/O in the most tight dress that shows her curves and other things to attract her. In the end, S/O got the evidence and the illegal business was arrested, but that night, Jason couldn’t handle it anymore.

prompts:

9: “1, 2, I’m going to fuck you.”

10: “The cuffs stay on, until I say otherwise.”

16: “I want to be the only one you feel.”

23: “Stop talking and put it in your mouth already.”

smut prompts are from here

warnings: smut → use of handcuffs, daddy kink, rough sex lol, dirty talk, pet names, throat fucking  // fem!reader // mentions of violence / injury. // not proof read either lmao

word count: 2.9k

Kinktober has finished, so the prompts are no longer in use, but thanks so much for participating!!

•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:• ☾ ☼ ☽ •:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•

From the moment Jason met you, he knew you were special. Although you were quiet and a bit withdrawn, you were dedicated to your work and knew what it took. It almost amazed him how you could be so timid at home or around him and the rest of the crew, yet be practically another person while working. Your job as a vigilante often required you to take down illegal drug rings and other like-businesses, and you knew just how dangerous it can be. 

The relationship between you and Jason new over time, and conjured up into something special. Though you were still quite quiet as relationships were still a new thing for you, Jason didn’t mind either way; in his words, “I’ll love you no matter how quiet or loud you are.” The lack of sex, however, gets you worried sometimes. Despite only having sex with him once, you still can feel he wants more. Jason doesn’t really like to communicate the wants in his life; he’s very much a person to let things happen when it’s time. It can come to your advantage though. You’ve never once felt pressured to do anything you don’t want to, nor feel like you have to do something just to please him. He’s patient. He’s kind. He’s everything you need. 

Nonetheless, you still feel like you have to bring more to the table. Dialling Batgirl’s number, you asked her for advice. Batgirl, being your oldest friend in this industry, obviously knew of your relationship with Jason. You and him decided to keep everything lowkey — more for the bad guys than anyone else. Knowing Jason will be out later today to find out more information about an illegal business that’s operating, you invite Batgirl over. 

•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:• ☾ ☼ ☽ •:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•

A small knock was placed on the door and a smile appears on your face as you answer it. 

“Hey, girlie!” Batgirl greets gleefully as she embraces you in a tight hug. Both of you walk over to the living room couch, where you had already placed two glasses of wine on the coffee table. 

“oh god bless, I need this,” Batgirl chuckles as she sits down with the glass in her hand. She takes a sip before repositioning herself to face you. “So, what’s up?”

“I don’t know, I just-“ you struggle to find the words, almost becoming embarrassed from having to ask advice on how to basically have sex with your boyfriend. “well, Jason and I have only had sex once and — I don’t know, I just don’t feel experienced enough to know how to do…anything.”

“So you want to know how to have sex?”

“no, well, yes, but no,” you stumble over your words causing Batgirl to chuckle sweetly at you. “I just don’t know how to start anything, you know?”

“Oh girl that’s easy. Maybe try and seduce him a little bit.” My eyes widen at her words.

Taking a bit mouthful of the wine, I ask “how do I do that?” 

“All you gotta do is tease him. Rub up on his arm, or ‘accidentally’ drop something so you can bend down and pick it up,” she advises. 

Batgirl stayed over for a little while until you got a text from Jason asking what you wanted for dinner, meaning he was close to home. You both gave each other a hug and after she left, you knew what you had to do. 

Hearing the click of the front door lock, you know Jason is home and you immediately got to work. You bend yourself over the kitchen bench away from him so your ass is gonna be the first thing he sees when he walks in. You scroll innocently through your phone and feel your heartbeat increase with each movement he took. You listen carefully as he took his boots off, leaving them at the door so they don’t track dirt throughout the apartment. 

“h-hey, gorgeous,” Jason stutters, completely caught off guard. You feel like letting out a little squeal of excited as you could tell it’s already working. 

“Oh hi,” you turn around and innocently bat your eyes at him. “how’d it go?” 

“Um,” he coughs. “yeah good, we got the name of the business. So now all we gotta do is track them down, which won’t be too hard.” 

“Oh good, I’m glad. We’ll catch them before they even know they’ve been caught,” I joke.  You both made your way to the couch and Jason took the remote, flicking through the channels on the tv. You knew you had to start somewhere, so you place your hand high on his thigh. Your hand is so close to his zipper, you almost feel like just getting down on your knees and taking him here right now. But how would he respond to that? Would he even like that? You shake your head and regain focus, trailing your eyes up to watch his face. He doesn’t seem all that bothered by it which surprises you a little bit. You know need to turn it up a notch, so you stand up and “accidentally” drop your phone. 

“oops,” you giggle as you bend over to pick it up, giving Jason a perfect view of your ass. He coughs and shuffles in his spot, coughing again as he looks down at his phone. Jason subtly watches as you walk into the kitchen and open the fridge. Your pour yourself another glass of wine and sigh as you saw nothing that you wanted to eat in the fridge. Sitting back down next to Jason on the couch, you ask if he wants take out. 

“yeah, I don’t mind. What’d you want?” He replies and opens up the Ubereats app. You ‘accidentally’ pour the tiniest bit of wine onto his pants, causing you to let out a fake gasp.

“oh my god, I’m so sorry. Here,” you reach forward and grab a tissue, dabbing it dangerously close to his crotch. Jason swallows thickly.

“oh, ah, it’s okay. I was just gonna go and change anyway,” he stutters, feeling the room become hotter by the second. And that’s when you know you’ve got him right where you needed him to be. 

•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:• ☾ ☼ ☽ •:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•

It had been a week of teasing and nothing had happened. Jason couldn’t tell if you were genuinely being innocent, or if you were trying to tempt him. Either way, you knew it was working just as you’d planned. The way his hands would ball in a fist in an attempt to control himself, or the way his breathing would become shallow every time you ‘accidentally’ brushed your hand over his crotch. It was all working.

Tonight was the night of the big bust of the underground business. Batgirl had come over while Jason was out with Tim Drake to secure traps in the club. 

“So,” she wiggles her eyebrows at me, causing my cheeks to heat up. “How’s everything with Jason?”

“Um, yeah, it’s going better than I expected. We haven’t done anything yet, but I feel like he’s really getting worked up over the teasing.”

“Well then I feel like you should wear this,” she smirks, taking out a black leather dress. It looks like it’ll be tight on you, but you accept anyway. Though Batgirl is known for being tough, she loves having a friend like you to spend time doing girly stuff with. You let her do your makeup, smokey eye of course, and you’ve never felt you’ve hotter in your life. It is honestly a confidence boost, and it makes you feel even more excited to try on the dress. The dress has bra padding inside so you didn’t need to wear a bra — how convenient. 

Coming out of the bathroom, Batgirl’s jaw drops and her eyes grow wide in either shock or lust, you couldn’t tell. 

“holy fucking shit. Jason is going to lose his goddamn mind after he sees you in that,” she gawks. You feel the heat rise in your cheeks again and sweat begin to form on your palms from nervousness. 

“I don’t know, are y-“

“oh my god shut up and look at you,” she grabs my hand and pulls me to the vanity mirror. “you’re stunning in that dress, and I’m sure Jason is gonna take you.”

“Oh my god,” you laugh and swat her arm playfully. Putting on some heels, you text Jason saying you and Batgirl were on your way to the club. 

•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:• ☾ ☼ ☽ •:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•

The strobe lights dance around the club and the music can be felt thumping through your chest. Jason looks up and notices you and batgirl already in the V.I.P zone where you’re gonna meet with the boss of the illegal business. His jaw, just like Batgirl only mere minutes ago, drops when he sees you in that stunning dress that compliments your figure so well. 

The boss enters the V.I.P lounge and you seductively stalk your way over to him, purring how you’ve been “waiting to see him.” The excitement in his eyes, and pants, humours you because you know you’re gonna bust him. You look at the asshole with bedroom eyes, and you finger curls in a ‘come here’ motion. He follows you out to a private room, where some of the crew are already waiting. 

“what’s going on here?” The Boss asks, turning to face you. 

“don’t act like you don’t know who we are,” you chuckle darkly at him, pushing him down into a chair. Jason ties the Boss up with rope while you interrogate him. 

“you’re gonna listen to me, and you’re gonna listen good. Shut your business down or-”

“How about a little game first,” the Boss snickers as he interrupts you. He leans back in the chair to admire the view of your gorgeous body. 

“oh sweetie,” you pout, hands grasping onto the sides of the chair so you can lean down over him. “I don’t play games.” 

“that’s a shame isn’t it. Would’ve been nice to fuck that gorgeous pu-“

“alright that’s enough,” Jason interrupts. Although you couldn’t see his face from under his mask, you knew he was pissed off at this Boss asshole.

“shut this business down or we’ll take out everyone you love,” Jason threatens. 

“why do I have to listen to you?” The Boss rolls his eyes. 

“Because we’re your worst nightmare,” you purr in his ear. “And baby, you don’t wanna mess with us.”

•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:• ☾ ☼ ☽ •:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•

Throughout the whole car ride, Jason was teasing you, with one hand on the wheel while the other toyed and teased your clit. Getting you so close to the edge before pulling his hand away completely. You knew your teasing would eventually build up his sexual frustration and cause him to unravel at some point, but you never thought he would tease you right back. 

The second you and Jason enter his apartment, you jump and wrap your legs around his waist, which caused your dress to hitch up to your stomach. You grind your hips up and rub your crotch against him as your hands tangle in his hair and pull at the strands of hair, making Jason groan into your neck as he plants rough kisses into it. He carries you to the bed and throws you down onto it.

“get on all fours,” he demands in a low voice. His eyes burn into you, watching as you turn your body around and stick your ass in the air for him. Jason gets out of his Red Hood suit, placing it on the chair in the corner of the room before stalking his way over to you. He wants you to beg for him. 

“now, do you think you’ve been a good girl?” He asks while kneading your ass, trying to work you to your breaking point.

“no, daddy,” you breathe out, twisting your fists in the bedsheets to release some frustration. Jason smacks your ass suddenly, causing you to yelp from the stinging sensation. 

“that’s right, princess.” He smacks his hand against your ass again. You bite your lip to stop you from moaning, and you can already tell that your ass is red and raw. 

“jason, please,” you finally plead. He spanks your ass again, a smirk forming on his face as he hears you moan. 

“that’s not my name,” his low voice causes your pussy to get even wetter. 

“i’m sorry, daddy,” you whimper. 

“I want to be the only one you feel,” he growls. “you understand?” 

Letting out a small “mhmm,” Jason chuckles. 

“now count with me.” 

smack.

“1, 2, I’m gonna fuck you,” he leans over and whispers in your ear. A shiver runs down your spine and you feel like screaming ‘finally!’. Jason stands beside the bed and instructs you to kneel in front of him, already knowing what he wants. 

“Jay, when are you gonna fuck me. I need you so bad,” you practically pine for him. 

“Stop talking and put it in your mouth already,” he demands, eyebrows furrowing in frustration. Jason grunts as you take him in your mouth. A moan is suppressed as you bob your head up and down his cock, feeling his hands grip your hair. 

“fuck, babygirl. Your mouth feels so good on my cock,” he moans, throwing his head back. J bucks his cock into your mouth, smirking slightly as you gag. He lets out a grunt when he hits the back of your throat, and you hollow your cheeks so you can take more of him. His hips thrust into your mouth faster. His hands grips your hair so tightly, you let out a whine against his cock. 

Suddenly, he pulls you off him. Instructing you to lay on the bed, you do as you’re told. You watch in curiosity as he searches through his drawers, and your eyes widen as he pulls out a pair of handcuffs. Jason takes your hands and binds them to the headboard. 

“the cuffs stay on, until I say otherwise,” Jason instructs. He sits back on his knees and watches in amusement as you squirm underneath him.

“Jason, please,” you whine. 

“In a minute, princess.” he chuckles, tracing his finger up your thigh, stopping once he reaches your wet pussy. You continue to whine and sigh in pure frustration and your clit was throbbing angrily; just wanting and waiting to be touched. Being impatient was certainly an understatement at this point. Jason’s finger flicks your clit, and you gasp at the sudden feeling. His eyes never leaving your as he moves in closer, his tongue flicking up and down at a rapid pace. You gasp and moan, wanting to reach down and grip his hair, but the handcuffs on your wrists restrain you from doing such things. Jason’s tongue circles your clit, before he sucks hard on it, pulling back the skin and watching it snap back. His finger slams into you, causing you to let out a loud moan as he pumps it in and out of you. He proceeds to add another finger, curling it upwards. Your back arched and you once again, pull on the restraints, and subtly hissing at them.

“Oh Jay… please just uncuff me! I’ll be a good girl, I promise!” You beg, pulling on the handcuffs. You continue to whine he ignores you and pound his fingers inside you and hitting your g-spot. 

“Fuck!” you moan out, clenching around his fingers.

 “Can I cum?” You whine, rolling your hips into his hand. Jason grants permission and your vision turns to white. Your body has never shook so hard in your life and you’ve certainly never cum this hard before. 

“Thank you! Thank you!” You breathe out as you calm down from your high. Jason chuckles and sucks your wetness off his fingers. Reaching over, he pulls out a condom from the bedside drawer and rolls it on. A loud moan exists the both of you as he slides himself inside you.  Jason begins rocking his hips in a slow motion before gradually increasing the speed. 

“god,” he sighs into your mouth, pulling away and drooping his head into the crook of your neck, one hand gripping the bedsheet tight, while his other hand grasped your hip. Jason sits up on his knees and brings your leg up to his shoulder, driving his cock in deeper into you. He closes his eyes and lets out small grunts from the pleasure. He made you feel so good, you couldn’t help but scream his name and arch your back. Your hand came up to the headboard, gripping it tightly as he pounded into your wet pussy, making the bed squeak with each thrust. 

“Are you gonna cum again, princess?” Jason asks, holding your hips up as he gyrates his hips. You nod quickly, throwing your head back and rolling your eyes as you close them. Your body begins shaking as your orgasm took over you once again. Jason’s hips jolt as he cums inside you, his moans muffled through his lip which was sucked in and bit by his teeth. The grip on your hips softening as he calms down from his high. Jason pulls out and disposes the condom before cuddling into you tightly. 

“you know you can just ask for sex, right?” He teases, chuckling as he strokes your hair. Your cheeks flush a shade of red and you’re lucky that it’s dark in the room.

[chickensarentcheap]

Never Gonna Be Alone- Chapter 58

Title: Scared.

Warnings: angst, profanity

Tagging: @c-a-v-a-l-r-y, @innerpaperexpertcloud, @tragiclyhip, @miss-smutty, @ocfairygodmother, @ocappreciation​

Link on Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28860450/chapters/80937475

She finds him in the kitchen. Standing in front of the coffee bar in a pair of Under Armour sweats that sit impossibly low on his hips and his hair and the back of his shirt visibly dampened by sweat. She’d been stirred awake by the profound need to vomit; morning sickness hitting her hard and quick and finding her throwing off the comforter and rushing for the washroom. For forty minutes she’d stayed there; on her knees in front of the toilet with her cheek resting on the cold porcelain of the lid. It had taken longer than normal for the nausea to pass; accompanied by profuse sweating and the horrific dizziness. And she’d just begun to return to normal and had been in the process of splashing cold water on her face and brushing her teeth when she’d heard the front door click open. When he hadn’t come upstairs, she’d gone in search of him, shoving her feet into a pair of slippers and one of his hoodies.

“What are you doing up so early?” Tyler inquires, when she wraps her arms around him from behind. “ Not like you to be up before the kids.”

“Woke up to an empty bed. Thought I’d come down and check on you.” Her hands slid around to his stomach and slip up to his chest; lingering briefly on broad, hard muscle before retreating to his hips once more. She rests her forehead against his back; enjoying his familiar scent -mixed with the slight tinge of perspiration- that clings to the slightly dampened cotton of his t-shirt. “You worked out? Already?”

“And went for a run.”

“Must have been pretty damn early when you got up.”

“Still dark out. Tried to fall back asleep and when that wasn’t happening, decided to get up and start the day. I didn’t want to wake you up; all the tossing and turning I was doing.”

“Are you feeling alright?” Her hands move to his shoulders, gently kneading the muscles as she presses a kiss to the middle of his back. “ You’ve been getting up crazy early every day for a week now. Don’t you think maybe you’re going a little too hard? With the heavy lifting and the running and…”

“My body feels fine. Couple extra aches and pains and some stiffness, but nothing major. Nothing I can’t handle. I’ve felt worse, that’s for sure.”

“I just don’t want you pushing it, okay? Don’t go past what your body will let you do. I know sometimes you get really into it and you’re in a zone and it’s really hard to stop, but…”

“Didn’t we talk about this?” He turns to face her; leaning back against the countertop as the coffee brews and the kettle boils. “A week and a bit ago? About me not pushing the limits? I said I’d listen to my body. And I am.”

“I just worry. I know what you can be like; when you really start going hardcore with things. I mean, I get that you feel like you need to be bigger…”

“I WANT to be bigger. I don’t feel I need to be. We talked about this.”

“I know, and I’m just reminding you that your skills and your ability to keep us safe? They are not tied to how big you are. I just want you to realize that, okay? Before you totally start busting your ass because you think one has everything to do with the other. It doesn’t. At all. And I don’t want you forcing yourself to get bigger and hurting yourself and…”

“Esme…” He smooths her hair away from her cheeks; looping wayward strands behind her ears and then cradling her face in her palms. “...I’m fine. I’m just trying to maintain. That’s it. You know how hard that’s been; trying to keep weight and muscle on. Ever since...well, you know.”

“I do know. It’s been a challenge; getting back to where you were and staying that way. And I am totally onboard with that; you maintaining how you are right now. Because it’s the healthiest you’ve been. In years. I just don’t want you feeling that you need to be different. Bigger. I don’t want you thinking I want you to be that way.”

“I don’t think that. I’ve never thought that. I know you don’t give a shit; big, small, muscles, no muscles. I know none of that matters to you.”

“It’s not that it doesn’t matter. It does, in a way. Because I want you to be the healthiest you can be. But I love you ALL ways. Your size means nothing to me.”

A grin plays on his lips. “We’re talking over all size and not below the waist, yeah? Because I seem to recall you saying...many times...how much you enjoy the fact I have a huge…”

“You just HAD to go there. You just had to turn around and make this weird. You damn well know what I was talking about.”

“I make it weird when I start to get uncomfortable. You should know that by now. It’s only been twelve years and…” he consults his watch. “...one month…”

“And thirteen days,” she finishes. “What? I keep track too, you know. You’re not the only sappy one in this house. And why DO you get uncomfortable? Shouldn’t YOU know by now that you don’t have a reason to get like that? That I’m the last person you should be that way with.”

“I do know all that.” Pushing his hands through her hair, he allows the dark, silky stresses to slip between his fingers; palms skimming over her shoulders and down her upper arms before sliding around to the small of her back. “ Just sometimes I can’t help it. Guess it’s just years of being that way with other people. Sometimes the past comes back. No matter how far I feel I’ve gotten away from it. What’s the saying? Old habits die hard?”

“I was thinking more ‘you can’t teach an old dog new tricks,” she teases, then gives a yelp when he brings his palms down on her ass cheeks in a ringing slap. “You know, that shorter hair? How blond it looks? Totally hides all your gray. My old man doesn’t look so old anymore.”

“Fuck you, Esme.”

“I wish you would actually. The one morning I wake up really wanting it? You’re nowhere around. Sadly, I had to take matters into my own hands.”

“You didn’t.”

“I so did. I’m sorry, husband. I didn’t have a choice. You have no idea just how badly I wanted it. And when I woke up and you weren’t there…”

“You’re kidding me right now. You’re not being serious.”

“One hundred percent serious.” She gives a dramatic pout. “Sorry.”

“Why didn’t you wait until I got home?”

“I didn’t know how long you were going to be! Some things can’t wait. A pregnant woman’s hormones? They can’t wait. Sorry.”

“You’re bullshitting me right now.”

“There’s two things I for sure never lie about. Sex and orgasms. And seeing as you couldn’t give me the sex…”

“I could have given it to you when I got home. But you couldn’t wait, so…”

“I think you’re underestimating just how bad my hormones are right now. I know it’s been a while, but do you remember how bad things got? During my first trimester with Brookie and Takota?”

“Just with them? You were brutal with all of them. And with them and Millie, I couldn’t really do much about it because Dhaka kicked the ever loving shit out of me. Twice.”

“You held your own. You found ways. But let’s put it this way; combine all my pregnancies together and that’s pretty much how out of control my hormones are.”

A slow, sly grin spreads across his face. “Really? ‘Cause when you’re not pregnant, you’re pretty out there with how much you need and want. I’m older now. I don’t know if I can keep up with pregnant lady hormones.”

“Why do you think I have a whole drawer of sex toys? Take some of the strain and pressure off you.”

His eyes narrow. “Are you fucking serious right now?”

She remains stone faced for several seconds, then bursts into giggles when he scowls and attempts to step away. “I’m kidding! I’m totally kidding, babe. Totally. No!” She wraps both arms around his torso when he tries to side step her. “You’re not going anywhere! I was joking! I didn’t mean to insult you. Or your penis.”

“You hurt it’s feelings.”

“Want me to apologize to it?”

“Do you want to apologize to it?”

“Would it offend your penis even further if I said ‘not right because I’d probably puke all over it’?”

“He acknowledges that as a perfectly acceptable reason. But he also says once you’re feeling better…”

“Once it passes, I promise I’ll be very nice to him. But right now? Right now I need the penis owner to hug me.”

“I don’t know…” he chides, and wraps both arms around her much smaller, slighter frame. “...I guess I could do that.”

“You DO love me.” She perches herself on the top of his feet and curls her arms around his neck. “Although the way I’m feeling? It doesn’t feel like love.”

A palm moves to the back of her head, cradling it to his chest. “I take it you really didn’t wake up horny?”

“No. I didn’t. I woke up to puke. A lot.”

“I’m sorry, Me. That you’re feeling like shit. And for being the reason you ARE feeling that way.”

“You should be sorry. You and your penis and your talented sperm. And your stupid handsome face and your stupid blue eyes and your stupid voice. All the stupid things I can’t say no to.”

“Can’t? Or don’t want to?”

“Both,” she admits, and then giggles against him when his hand slips from the small of her back and travels down to gently squeeze an ass cheek. “I’ve never been able to say ‘no’ to you. It’s a blessing AND a curse, I swear.”

“Well, for what it’s worth…” he drops a kiss on the top of her head, then crooks a finger under her chin and tilts her face up towards him. “...I’m sorry you’re feeling like shit. And that it’s my fault you are.”

“Technically, it’s both our faults. I can’t hold you solely responsible. And I guess it’s a small price to pay; for bringing beautiful little humans into the world. If you ask me, we’re doing society a favour by sharing our genes. We make really cute kids.”

“I can’t argue with that. But is it really a surprise? We’re not exactly hideous.”

“Speak for yourself. You’re the looker in the family.”

He frowns. “I don’t know what the hell you’re seeing when you’re looking in the mirror, because when I look at you? Hideous does not come to me. You are definitely the hot one.”

“I think you underestimate just how good looking you actually are.”

“I think you overestimate how ugly you are. Wait….that did NOT sound right.”

“No, it didn’t,” Esme laughs. “But I know what you were trying to say. I think.”

“Let’s just agree that we make awesome looking kids and that it’s scientifically impossible for us to have ugly ones.”

“I can definitely agree to that.”

“And I am sorry.” Once more cradling her face in his hands, he presses a soft, brief to her lips, followed by one to her forehead. “That you’re feeling like crap. Any better now?”

“A little. I don’t feel like I should be taking up permanent residence in front of the toilet. And I meant what I said; about not caring about what you look like. And how your size has no correlation with the skills you have and the things you can do. You do know that, right?”

“I’m trying. To force myself to realize that.”

“Just be careful,” Esme pleads, as she runs her fingernails along his forearms as his hands linger against her cheeks. “Don’t over do. I don’t want you hurting yourself. I’m not nagging. I’m just worried.”

“Nothing to be worried about,” he assures her, and kisses her a final time. Much deeper and longer; fingers locking together at the base of her neck as she stands on her tiptoes and leans her body into his. “I’m fine,” he promises, and pecks the end of her nose. “If I feel like I’m pushing things, I’ll stop. I’ll even give you permission to give me a kick in the ass if you think I’m going too hard. Sound good?”

“Sounds good,” she agrees, and presses a kiss to the underside of his chin before retreating to the island and sliding onto one of the barstools.

“I’ll make you some of that tea. Maybe that’ll help. Think you can handle eating something?”

“Maybe. What are you going to make me in my delicate condition?” Reaching for the Ipad that sits on the countertop, she slides it towards her; pressing the home button to bring the screen to life and immediately checking her email.

“I’m not a rookie. I know what you can and can’t handle.”

“We’re not talking about sex, Tyler. We’re talking about feeding a horrifically nauseous pregnant woman.”

Grinning, he places a steaming mug of tea down in front of her and then drops a kiss on the top of her head. “And you say my mind is always in the gutter.”

“We don’t have seven kids and one on the way for no reason. Save to say your mind isn’t the only dirty thing you possess. Anything interesting happen while you were on your run? Anything exciting?”

“If you’re asking if I saw Mark, no, I didn’t. And it’s probably a good thing because I definitely would have killed him.”

“Not that he doesn’t deserve it, but I’m glad you didn’t see him either. Last thing I need is you in jail for the rest of your natural born life. I don’t quite feel comfortable bringing my children into that kind of environment.”

“You could always come visit me alone,” he chides, and drops a mixture of crackers onto a plate. “You know, for conjugal visits.”

“How romantic. Getting railed with a guard right outside the door. What’s more of a violation of privacy? What ruins the mood more? That or knowing one of your seven children could come running in any second?”

“For the record…” he opens the fridge and pulls out a block of marble cheese and a bag of grapes. “...my mood is never ruined.”

“That’s because when you’re in the sex zone, everything else ceases to exist. You practically forget you even have kids.”

“My dick forgets I have kids. He’s running the show. I don’t get a say in it. My brain shuts down. I just go along for the ride. And boy, can give you an awesome ride.”

Rolling her eyes, she pushes the ipad away and reaches for her mug; clasping it in both hands and blowing a stream of steady air onto it hopes of cooling it down. She watches him as she sips cautiously at her drink; noticing the way the muscles in his arms twist and bugle with even the simplest of movements. The veins more pronounced and the sleeves of his tee -once fitting with room to spare- now tight around his biceps and through the chest and shoulders. Within the past two weeks alone he’s stepped up the frequency and intensity of his workouts; no rest days and the weights much heavier and two hours in the gym now partnered with an hour run along the river. And while she admires not only the view and his consistency and commitment, it also worries her; the fallacy that his skills and his ability to protect his family are directly tied into his size. Mark’s appearance has only fed into things; turning Tyler’s need to be bigger and stronger into near obsession.

“You know…” she carefully broaches the topic once again. “....you’re built exactly like you were when we first met. And that was a good look. A VERY good look.”

“I put on that five pounds, And more. Nine in total. Doesn’t sound like much, but…” he slides the plate of food in front of her. A mixture of various crackers and cheeses and a handful of grapes; the lone breakfast she could tolerate and stomach during the beginnings of all her pregnancies. Until medication became the only thing that helped with keeping any water and liquid down. “...it’ll take a lot to maintain it.”

“Just have to keep eating like you have been,” she says, and selects a piece of cheese from the plate, nibbling at it as he moves to the coffee bar and begins preparing a mug. “You’re up to what? Five meals a day? High calorie, high protein?”

“Probably go up to seven soon. Maybe add in a few smoothies throughout the day.”

“That’s a lot, don’t you think? That’s what you were during back in Colorado; after we got back together. And you went into that whole lumberjack stage.”

“For the record, you called it that. Not me. And you didn’t complain about it at the time. You said you liked that look; me being thicker.”

“I did. I DID like it. It was a change. But things are different now.. YOU’RE different. You’ve been through a lot since then. Your BODY’S been through a lot. Not to mention you’re older. That was a long time ago. Millie wasn’t even in school full time yet.”

“So because I’m older it means I have to just let myself go? Get fat and out of shape? A dad bod? You should know that’s not me; I’m not the type to just around on my ass and not do anything. I’ve always kept in shape. Even when I was a fucking mess and living in that shack.”

“I know it’s important to you; keeping in shape and being healthy. And I’d never stop you from doing it and I’m not suggesting you shouldn’t stay with it. . I just…” she drums her fingernails against the countertop. “...it sounds like you’re going into a bulk.”

“Maybe a little bit of one,” he says with a shrug, and slides into the stool across from her; coffee mug raised to his lips as he regards her. “Why? Is that a problem?”

“No. It’s not a problem. It’s just…” Sighing, she takes a bite out of one of the crackers. “...I am trying so hard here. To navigate this as carefully as possible. Because I don’t want you thinking I’m nagging or attacking or…”

“Just say what you want to say. What are you worried about? I’m not going to lose my shit. We can have a conversation without that happening, can’t we??

“Usually. Eight times out of ten.”

“Just say what you want to say, Me. I won’t get pissed. Just say it.”

“I’m worried about you. I’m worried that Mark showing up is somehow putting it into your head that you need to be different. That you need to be bigger and stronger and…”

“I do need to be stronger.”

“You’re already strong. More muscles does not equal strength. You know that better than anyone. You’re the gym lover, right? You know more about this stuff than I do. Muscle mass does not equal physical power. Look how strong you were in Dhaka. The first time around. You were built EXACTLY like you are now. Look at the things you were able to do. Especially in that apartment. You were there all by yourself and you had to take down all those guys on your own.”

“I was armed.”

“Until you weren’t. Then you had to rely on your physicality, right? You didn’t have a choice. You had to trust in your skills and the strength you had. And it worked out really well, don’t you think? You got rid of all of them and got Ovi out of there.”

“That was all skill, Esme. Not strength.”

“It was a mix of BOTH. You were strong, Tyler. You were insanely strong. I saw what you were capable of. And you were built exactly the same way you are now. So if you didn’t need to be bigger and bulkier then…”

“I was also younger than. Almost thirteen years younger.”

“And at the risk of pissing you off, you were also an alcoholic and addicted to Oxy-Contin. Wouldn’t those have hampered you? Made you even a little bit weaker? You’re clean and sober now. That’s all out of your system. So if you’re just as big now as you were then and you don’t have addiction issues now….”

“I’m almost fifty fucking years old. You really think I’d stand a chance in that apartment now?”

“Yeah. I do. I do think you’d stand a chance. Probably even a better chance now. Because your mind isn’t all fucked up on booze and pain meds.”

“No it’s just fucked up in other ways.”

“That has nothing to do with this. You had PTSD then, you just didn’t realize it. Or maybe you did and you were just ignoring it and self medicating yourself. Numbing everything. Tyler, you already had the problems you do now. They were already there, babe. It just took a lot of extra fucking trauma to bring them out. Do you really think you didn’t have PTSD already?”

“I’ve never thought about it.”

“You’ve always had it. You’ve had it since you were a kid. Just no one ever gave a shit to get you help for it. And then Austin got sick and…”

“We’re not talking about that. We’re not talking about him.”

“I’m just saying other things happened. And they kept piling up and piling up and it took that fucking prick Nathan to really bring everything out. Those things were always there. It just took something to bring them to the surface.”

“Yeah, it only took getting shot in the back and getting fucking tortured. Hell of a price to pay, don’t you think? To make everything come out? Some fucking psycho slicing my face open and sticking his fingers in the bullet hole in my back. Threatening to rape my wife and my little girl and kill my entire family.”

She frowns. “What are you talking about? You’ve never mentioned that before. Threatening to…”

“I remember, Esme. I remember what happened in that storage locker. Everything he did, everything he said. Everything he told me he’d do to you and the kids.”

“When did this happen? When did you start remembering all that?”

“Couple months ago.”

“A couple months?! And you’re just telling me now? Why didn’t you say something? Why would you keep that from me?”

“I didn’t want you to know. The details. I figured it was just better to keep it to myself. What good does it do? You knowing that stuff? Why should we both be fucked up because of him?”

“What? You think I wasn’t already fucked up? You think seeing you that way didn’t screw me up? I was the one that was there. In the hospital. I was the one that was there when you got out of surgery and I was the one that got you the help you needed and busted my ass to get you sent back home where you’d be more comfortable and you’d heal quicker. That was all me. You don’t think that didn’t fuck me up?”

“I’m sorry it did. I’m sorry…”

“No,” she holds her hand up in a plea for silence. “ I don’t want you to be sorry because you have nothing to be sorry for. You didn’t do anything wrong. You didn’t deserve what happened to you. It wasn’t your fault Nathan was a total fucking sociopath. But I WAS there, Tyler. I was going through it with you. Who HAS been going through it with you. And you should have told me. That you were remembering. You owed me that.”

“I don’t owe you shit, Esme.”

“Really? So everything I did and everything I went through and all the times I fought for you meant absolutely nothing? Is that what you’re saying? That that meant fuck all to you?”

“I never said that. That’s NOT what I’m saying.”

“It’s been twelve years and in some ways you’ve changed, and in some ways you’re still the same. One day you’re a totally different person and the next you’re right back to who you were. When we first met. You go right back to being that guy that put all those walls up to keep everyone out. It’s like two steps forward and a whole bunch of steps back. Why? Why do you do this? Why do you go back to being HIM?”

“Because that’s who I am. That’s who I’ve always been. You’ve just been so caught up trying to make me something I wasn’t to make yourself feel better. Had to change me right? So you could live with yourself for making the decisions you did when it came to me.”

“That’s bullshit and you know it. I didn’t change you. You wanted to change. I didn’t force you. I didn’t demand that you change for me. I didn’t hold a gun to your head and make you become a family man. I didn’t…”

“You were pregnant with my kid. What did you want me to do? Let you walk away? Take my kid with you? Did you really think I’d let you do that?”’

“Holy fuck,” she scoffs, and pushes the mug away with enough force for tea to splash over the rim. “So this is what it took, huh? Almost thirteen years for you to finally tell the fucking truth. I asked you. After Dhaka. I asked you if it was what you wanted. If I was what you wanted. And you were so fucking convincing. I bought it. When you said it was. I actually fell for it. And in the end it WAS all just a bunch of bullshit.”

“No. It wasn’t. It wasn’t bullshit. I wanted you to stay. I wanted a life with you.”

“Because I was pregnant. Because you felt it was the right thing to do. Because you were trapped.”

“I wasn’t trapped. And it wasn’t because you were pregnant. I wanted you to stay BEFORE that.”

“Why didn’t you tell me that before? Why did you wait? Until I told you about Millie. Until I said I’d leave and never bother you again? Why didn’t you before that if I was what you wanted?”

“Because I almost fucking died and I was trying to heal and I was fucked up. I wasn't exactly in the right frame of mind. And maybe I was scared. Because I was feeling all the things for you. Because I’d just met you and suddenly I’m feeling shit that I’ve never felt for anyone in my entire fucking life. I went from wanting to kill myself to having something...someone...to live for. I’m sorry if I was a little fucking overwhelmed.”

“You? You were overwhelmed? I put my ass on the line on that bridge and stuck my fingers in your fucking neck! I stayed there! I stuck around and did everything I could to keep you alive! You were overwhelmed?”

“Well maybe you shouldn’t have. Maybe you should have just got your ass on the helicopter and left. Like everyone else did.”

“Yeah…” she slides off the stool, and angrily shoves it against the island. “...maybe I should have. Considering you just spent the last twelve years building a life based on a FUCKING LIE!”

“That’s not what I did. That’s not true. That’s not…” he captures her by the wrist when she attempts to stomp away, fingers digging into the sensitive flesh. “...where are you going?”

“I need to be away from you. I can’t be here. In this room. With you.”

“Don’t do this. Don’t walk away. If you walk away...”

“Let go of me,” she orders, and struggles in vain to yank her hand out of his grasp. “Let go. Now.”

“I’m not letting you walk away. Not until you listen to me. Not until you…”

“I’m done listening to you. You’ve said enough, don’t you think? What do you want to do? Hurt me some more? I don’t think that’s even possible. Because what you just did….what you just said...what you just admitted to…”

“I never lied to you. Ever. Not about us. Not about you.”

“You just did! You just told me that the only reason you even had me stick around was because I was pregnant. Because you felt obligated to keep me around. Because you felt some sense of duty.”

“I never said that. That is NOT what I said.”

“I asked you!” She manages to yank her hand free, and instead of fleeing the room decides to confront him. Standing between his splayed thighs and jamming her finger into his chest as tears coarse down her face. “I asked you so many times in the past twelve years! I asked you to tell me the truth; I asked you to tell me if you only wanted me to stay because I was having Millie. How many times have I asked you that? Tell me.”

“A lot.”

“Every time you said ‘no’. You said that you asked me because you loved me and you wanted a life with me. You wanted us to be together and have a family.”

“And that’s exactly why! That’s exactly why I asked you to stay.”

“It was a fucking lie, Tyler! You said I wanted to hear. What you knew would keep me there. You never meant a fucking word of it. It was all a lie.”

“No. It wasn’t. None of that was a lie. It’s the truth. I never lied to you, Esme. Not about that. NEVER about that.”

“You just told me! You just said ‘you were pregnant with my kid, what did you want me to do?’. Those words just came out of your mouth!”

“But I didn’t mean them. I just lashed out. All I heard was you say that I haven’t changed and I was still the same and I lost it. I snapped. And unfortunately that’s what came out. But it wasn’t the truth. Everything I said to you back then….about wanting to be with you and wanting a life with you and wanting a family...THAT was the truth.”

“Twelve years. Twelve years and seven kids. And it was all built on a fucking lie.”

“No. It wasn’t. None of it was a lie. You? Us? None of that is a lie. Stop…” He once more grabs her in an attempt to keep her from leaving; fingers curling around her bicep. “...I’m not letting you walk away. Just stop.”

“Leave me alone,” she pleads. “Please. Just leave me alone. Just let me go. You need to let me go, Tyler.”

“I can’t. I can’t do that.”

“You have to. You have to let me go..”

“Esme….”

“Please,” she begs, and tries to peel his fingers away from her arm. “Please just let me go.”

He finally relents; releasing his hold on her and holding his hands up in a show of surrender. Struggling to hold back a flood of tears of his own as he watches her flee the room; heart breaking just a little bit more with every step that takes her further away from him.

******

Tyler gives her a chance to cool down. Nursing his coffee while counting down the minutes on the digital clock on the stove; time passing agonizingly slow as he fights the urge to rush upstairs and pull her into his arms and kiss her until they’re both breathless. Then drop to his knees and grovel for forgiveness. He calls Desi and asks him to come and take the kids for a couple of hours; giving very little details but letting the uncharastically frantic tone of his voice do all the talking for him. And when he finally lets himself into the master, he finds her standing at the side of their unmade bed; an open suitcase and a pile of messy clothes sitting in the midst of the rumbled and tangled sheets.

He closes the door behind him, then cautiously approaches. Resisting the urge to stand behind her and place his hands on her shoulders and instead retreated to the dresser; leaning back against it with his arms crossed over his chest and fear quickly spreading through his entire body. “What are you doing?”

Esme doesn’t look up from the task at hand. “Packing.”

“I thought you were going to leave that stuff until the night before we leave. We’ve still got four more days.”

“You’ve still got four more days. I’m leaving. Today.”

His top teeth dig painfully into his bottom lip; biting back a ‘like fuck you are’ and instead offering, “Where are you going?”

“Home. There’s seats on a flight that leaves in four hours. I’ll call Andy on the way to JFK; see if he can pick me up at the airport.”

“Andy left Australia about three hours ago. He’s flying in for the wedding, remember? Your son’s wedding.”

“Then I’ll take a cab. Or I’ll call Estelle. I’ll figure it out. Don’t worry about it.”

His palms rub at his forearms, attempting to fend off the chill of dread that travels through him. “It’s kind of hard not to. You’re my wife. You’re pregnant with my kid.”

“Just let me worry about that, okay? It’s kinda my body. Not yours.”

“What the fuck is that supposed mean?”

“It means it’s my body. I’m the one carrying this baby. Not you. I’ll take care of it.”

“Take care of it as in make sure it’s okay or take care of it as in…”

She angrily tosses a pair of jeans into the suitcase. “I would NEVER do that to you. You think that little of me? That I would do something like that?”

“No. Of course not. I just…”

“Where’s the kids?”

“Desi came and got them. Took them out for breakfast.”

“How’d you convince him to do that?”

“I told him that some shit was going down and I needed to take care of it. That I needed to bust my ass and make things right.”

“I’m surprised you were so honest. What happened? Use up all your bullshit over the past twelve years? Had nothing left to give? Must have been tiring; keeping the lie up all this time.”

“Esme, stop. I never lied to you. Not about you. Not about us. Not about our life. I’ve never lied about any of that.”

“Our whole marriage has been a lie! Every year, every month, every week, every day. Even every fucking hour.”

“You can’t tell me you actually believe that.”

“I don’t know what to believe anymore. It’s kind of hard to trust anything you hear after you’ve found out your entire life...or a huge part of it...has been nothing but bullshit..”

“None of it was bullshit. I didn’t mean what I said. Downstairs. I didn’t mean….”

She finally turns to face him; hands clutching a t-shirt. “Was any of it true? Any of the last twelve years?”

“It was all true. Every day. All of it. It was all true, Me.”

Giving a derisive snort, she tosses the garment into the suitcase. “Don’t call me that. Things were good when you started calling me that. Things were great, actually. And I loved it; that you had this little nickname for me. Don’t ruin it, okay? At least give me one thing to hold onto.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. You got seven beautiful children out of your lie, Tyler. At least something good came out of it.”

“Okay, you know what…” He finally approaches the bed, snatching the sweater out of her hands and dropping it into the suitcase; picking the latter up and angrily tossing it into the corner of the room. He’s desperate. Frantic. Needing to make that last ditch attempt to keep everything together. He won’t survive if things fall apart; at least not mentally. Losing her means he loses his entire world; the person who taught him what love TRULY is. It’s patience and it’s acceptance and it’s sacrifice and it’s sometimes painful as hell. And it tears him up inside; the thought of his world without his entire world in it. “...you’re going to listen to me. Whether you want to or not. Because I need you to hear what I’m saying. Esme…” he lays his hands on her shoulders, squeezing as hard as her body will allow him to. “Look at me. Please look at me.”

She shakes her head; chin remaining dropped to her chest.

“Please,” he begs, as his hands move to her cheeks; palms cradling her face and fingers pressing into the delicate skin as he tilts her head up towards him. “Just look at me. Don’t do this. Please don’t do this. Don’t shut me out.”

“I don’t know what you want me to say.”

He’s never heard her voice like that before; tiny and broken and lost. The hurt that he’s dealt her has struck extremely deep; the devastation and the heartbreak profound and reaching right into her very soul. Not even in the worst of times had he seen her like this; when she’d kicked him out and they’d spent six months walking on pins and needles around each other while desperately wanting to fix things and not knowing where - or how- to begin. She’s cried many times in front of him; tears of joy and anger and frustration and fear and horrendous grief. And he’s always been able to comfort her and ease some of the pain; his arms able to give her the solace and the escape that she both craved and needed. But it’s far beyond that; no lingering embrace or stroking of hair or whisperings of love will do the trick this time. It’s him that’s caused this; the shimmer of tears in her eyes and the trembling of her body and the look of pure devastation and loss that registers on her face.

“I don’t know either,” he admits. “And I don’t even know what to say. I just know I need you to listen to me. To whatever I DO say. Can you do that? I need you to do that. Please, Esme. Just listen, okay?”

She offers a feeble nod.

“I love you. I have always loved you.”

“No. Don’t you say that. Don’t make it worse. Don’t screw things up even more by keeping up the lie. If there was ever a time for you to be honest with me…”

“I AM being honest with you. I have never...EVER...lied about this. About you. About us. About our life.”

“I asked you, Tyler. More than once. Even after you brought up getting married. I asked you if it was because you actually did want me, or if you felt obligated to be with me. Because of Millie. I ASKED you.”

“And I told you the truth. I didn’t want to get married because of the baby. If there’d never been a baby...had you not gotten pregnant...I STILL would have wanted to be with you. I wanted to get married because I loved you. In a way I’d never loved anyone. That I didn’t even think was possible.”

“So you’re saying Millie had nothing to do with it? The fact I was having your daughter?"

“I mean, yeah, she did. In a way. I wanted us to be a family. I wanted it to be you and me and our kid. Because I knew we could make something of it. Don’t you think it was some kind of sign? If Dhaka couldn’t kill us, maybe things were meant to work out.”

“So if I hadn’t been pregnant…”

“I would have still wanted to marry you. I didn’t ask you to come to Australia because of Millie. I asked you because I didn’t want to lose you. I’d just found you. I wasn’t going to just let you walk away like nothing ever happened.”

“I gave up everything for you,” she snarls. “My entire life as I knew it. I gave it all up. And for what? For you to lie to me for twelve years? To base our entire life together on bullshit?”

“That’s not what I did. I didn’t lie to you. Our life hasn’t been bullshit. What I said downstairs? I didn’t mean it. THAT was bullshit.”

“Then why did you say it? If you didn’t mean it…”

“Because I lashed out. Like I’ve always done. Because all I heard was how I’m still the same person. I’m still the guy I was when we first met. The enormous alcoholic, drug addicted fuck up.”

“That’s not what I meant. I don’t think you’re that person at all. You haven’t been him in a long time. I didn’t mean…”

“You think what I said hurt you? How do you think that made me feel? I have busted my ass to give you a life. A GOOD life. I changed everything about myself. For you. And yeah, I needed to change; I needed to get my shit together and clean myself up. For once and for all. No more slip ups, no more going back to bad habits, no more running. And that’s what I’ve been doing for the past five years! I have done whatever I could to be the man you needed. That you DESERVE.”

“You are that man. I didn’t mean to say you’re not. That’s not what I meant; that you’re the same guy you were.”

“But that’s what I heard. You weren’t the only to give things up, Esme. You’re not the only one who had to adjust to a whole new life. I know the way I was living was pretty shit, but that’s all I knew. The job, the booze, the pills, hating myself, wallowing in my own fucking self pity. Do you think it was easy for me to just stop being that way? To just give up everything I knew for something else? Something totally different?”

“No. I know it wasn’t easy. I was there. With you. We went through all of it together. We helped each other adjust. I mean, we started living together and we barely knew one another. We were having a baby yet we were still learning about each other and trying to make a life together.”

“And that was pretty fucking scary wasn’t it. Jumping into all that and not even really knowing one another.”

She nods in agreement.

“ Everything said it shouldn’t work. That it WOULDN’T work. We were both pretty messed up. Some ways it was the same, some it was different. All the cards were stacked against us. All of them. And we somehow made it...US...work.”

“We had to put the effort in,” she reasons.

“And it was hard, wasn’t it. Nothing was easy about it. We pissed each other off, we disagreed on a lot of things, we had to get used to living with another person. It was damn hard. Wasn’t it?”

“Yeah.” She finally reaches out to touch him; running her fingertips along the neckline of his t-shirt; intently focused on a single loose thread in an effort to keep her emotions in check. And he immediately feels the change in the room; the pronounced shift from having to beg and plead to save his life to having to do damage control. The tension in her body releasing; shoulders relaxed and the tears in her eyes not as prominent and the way she finds it easier to look at him.

“Do you really think if I was lying that I would have put that much work into things? That I would have given everything up for you? For US? Do you honestly think I wouldn’t have run? Like I’d run from everything else before?”

“I never thought of it that way,” she admits.

“You came into my life and turned my whole world upside down. Second I saw you on my porch, I knew that was it. That things were going to change and that there wasn’t a goddamn thing I could do to stop it from happening. And you know what? I didn’t want to. Stop it. And that alone? That should have been enough to send me running.”

“Why didn’t it? Why didn’t you run?”

“I didn’t want to.”

“It would have been so easy. All you would have had to do was tell Nik you’d take the job and then not even show up. Although, I guess that would have made no sense; you would have lost out on a pretty big pay day.”

“Honestly, the money wasn’t even the first thing on my mind. It was there, but it wasn’t the most important thing. Which is weird, considering that’s all that job ever really meant to me. The pay out.”

“So why did you show up? If the money wasn’t the most important thing…”

“I wanted to see you again. I guess I wasn’t that annoyed about it after all; Nik bringing someone there.”

She manages a small smile.

“You were different. You didn’t give a shit about where I lived or what it looked like. You didn’t seem to care about the booze all over the place and the pain meds right out in the open. You didn’t seem to notice I was huge fucking mess.”

“You weren’t a mess. You were hurt. You were holding onto a lot of things. A lot of pain. I could see it; in your eyes. I’ve always said that; you say more with your eyes than you do with your mouth. I knew it when you looked at me; when we were talking after Nik went outside. I knew that people didn’t really know you. That they didn’t really ‘see’ you. That they never took the chance or the time to.”

“You did. You took the chance.”

“I guess I realized you were different too. From everyone that I’d met while on the job. You weren’t like the rest of them. You weren’t loud and obnoxious and bragging about your kills the second I met you. I couldn’t handle it; guys proud of all the lives they’ve taken and not shy about sharing the gruesome details. They GLOATED about that stuff. And the worst part? They thought I’d be impressed by it. That I’d somehow find it attractive and throw myself at their feet.”

“Guess it’s a good thing I didn’t bring out my kill sheet right after I met you,” he chides.

“You’ve never been like that. You’ve never taken pride in what you’ve had to do. You’ve never killed because you wanted to. You killed because you had to. I guess I got that impression right away; you were quiet and soft spoken and like I said, your eyes. They gave a lot away. About who you really were.”

“And that didn’t scare you?”

“There was nothing to be scared of. You may have had your demons, but you were pretty good at keeping them contained. I knew they weren’t something I had to be worried about. You weren’t going to hurt me. You didn’t have it in you.”

“And you could tell all that just by my eyes?”

She shrugs. “You have very expressive eyes. Why did you show up, Tyler? In Fitzroy Crossing. If it wasn’t really the money…”

“Like I said, I wanted to see you again. Girls like you just show up on my doorstep. Figured that was a sign; someone like you just walking into my place like you owned it. And when you didn’t pay attention to the disaster it or I was…”

“You weren’t a disaster. If you were, I never would have gone along with Nik’s plan. I would have ran long before you did, believe me. Had it been anyone else? Any other merc? I wouldn’t have taken that job. You were different, Tyler. In a lot of ways. And especially didn’t hurt that you looked like you did.”

“You would have been really disappointed if Gaspar had still been in the game. Nik called him first.”

“I for sure would have ran. That...HIM...that would have been a ‘no’ from me. I guess I’m lucky. That you even came home that day.”

“I actually briefly considered killing myself. About half an hour before. Something told me not to.”

“I’m glad. That it did. Because if it hadn't…” she looks away, tears once again brimming in her eyes. “...we wouldn’t have any of this. This life, Our kids. Us. We wouldn’t even have existed. And I don’t know about you, but I’m glad we do.”

Smiling, he loops strands of hair behind her ear. “So am I.”

She turns her tear filled eyes back towards him. “I’m sorry, Tyler. I never meant to hurt you. When I said what I did, about you going back to who you were, I didn’t mean it the way it came out. I didn’t mean to say you WERE him. I just mean that you always go back to certain things. Like hiding stuff from me. Because you think you should protect me from it.”

“I should have told you. About Nathan. Remembering the things that happened. I don’t know why I do; revert back to keeping things from you. I guess I am trying to protect you. I guess I figured one of us was already fucked up because of what happened, why should the other one be?”

“But it’s not protecting me. When you hide stuff. It does this. It causes problems. Way more problems than what would exist if you just told me. After everything I’ve been through in the past twelve years, there’s pretty much nothing I CAN’T handle. And I was there too. Five years ago. The aftermath of it. I was the one there with you. And believe me, I’m just as fucked up as you are. Seeing you like that? Seeing you in Dhaka seven years BEFORE that? You have no idea what it’s done to me. The things that are STILL in my head. I can’t get them out of there. And I need them gone. I need them out.”

Laying a hand on the back of her head, he pulls her into his embrace. An arm wrapped tightly around her waist and her fingers tangled in her hair as she buries her face in his chest. “I’m sorry, Me. I am so fucking sorry. That you had to see what you did. That you had to do those things.”

“It’s not your fault,” she sobs. “It’s never been your fault. You didn’t do anything wrong. You couldn’t have stopped what happened. I chose to stay. I couldn’t leave you there, Tyler. I couldn’t. I wasn’t leaving you on that bridge.

He attempts to gently shush her; palm moving to the middle of her back to rub in slow, soothing circles. “It’s okay. Everything’s alright now. YOU’RE alright.”

She turns her face up towards him, tears spilling down her cheeks as her entire body violently trembles. Voice terrified and frantic. “I’m not alright. At all. I am so far alright. And I need to be. I need to be alright.”

“You will be,” he assures her, and uses gentle fingertips to clear away the droplets glistening on her skin. “I’ll make sure of it. You’ll be okay. Right now, I need you to calm down. I need you to calm down and just breathe.”

“I can’t…”

“Yes you can. And you need to. For that baby. You need to settle down and breathe and…”

“I need help. I need help, Tyler. I need to get rid of this. This Dhaka stuff. In my head. I want it gone. You need to help me. Please help me.”

“I will. You know I will. As soon as we get home, I’ll call Doctor Klein and I’ll get you to see him, okay?”

She nods.

“It’s going to be okay. YOU’RE going to be okay.”

“I can’t breathe. I can’t…”

“You need to calm down. You’re thisclose to a panic attack and you need to settle down. Just breathe.”

“I CAN’T! I can’t breathe. It hurts...my chest…”

Muttering a string of profanities, he forces her to sit on the edge of the bed and then clasps her face in his hands. “Listen to me, you’re having a panic attack. I need to try and breathe, baby. Just breathe. I’m going to get you some meds, okay? You’ll be alright.”

“It really hurts...I can’t...take a breath.”

“I’ll take care of you.” He presses a kiss to her sweat slicked brow. “I’ll be right back. Just close your eyes and try to breathe. Can you do that?”

She nods.

Hurrying into the ensuite bath, he tosses open the medicine cabinet and begins violently rummaging through the contents. Various items tumbling off shelves and landing with a clatter in the sink; his own hands trembling and his chest feeling tight and uncomfortable. The blame and the guilt already screaming in his ears; silently berating himself for being the cause of not only her pain and her anger, but kick starting her ‘fight or flight’ response. Had he never said the things he had...had he never lashed out and even insinuated that he’d kept her around solely because she’d been pregnant with Millie...if he’d only…

He clutches the edge of the sink with enough force to crack his knuckles and turn his fingers white. And he drops his chin to his chest and briefly closes his eyes; forcing himself to push all of his own fears and worries and guilt and regret out of his mind. Needing to hold it together for her; be the shoulder to cry and the steadfast support and ‘the rock’ that she needs him to be. And when the sobbing and the gasping for air in the next room becomes even louder and incessant, he locates the bottle of anti-anxiety meds and asthma inhaler -prescribed to her for such events- and rushes back into the bedroom.

“It’s alright now,” he attempts to comfort her, and drops to a knee in front of her and shakes the inhaler before popping the cap off. “Here….take this...take it…”

Her hand covers his as he holds the device to her lips and she inhales shakily when he administers the dose.

“You need to take some meds, okay?” His hands tremble as he fights to open the bottle. “Just a couple. They’ll help. They work quick.”

“Something’s wrong.”

“Yeah, you're having an anxiety attack. You’ll be okay. Just…”

“No!” she interjects, and when she grabs his arm it’s with enough force that her nails cut into his flesh. “Something’s wrong. With the baby.”

The invisible vice tightens around his lungs. “What?”

“Something’s wrong, Tyler.” Her face contorts with pain, her other hand clutching at her stomach. “Something’s really wrong. With the baby.”

“Okay we’ll get you to the hospital and we’ll get you checked out. We’ll get you looked and the baby looked at…”

He doesn’t get the chance to finish the sentence; both of her palms now covering her stomach as she cries out in agony.

[honeypirate]

Train Ride pt one

Pt two

Aone Takanobu x f!y/n

I’m gonna preface this by saying I’ve only been on one train before and it had row seating like a bus so I’m going off that. I don’t know if it’s right or weird 🤷🏼‍♀️

“Oh!” You turned the corner in the hallway and your face smacked right into a big chest. You look up at the boy and smile shyly “I’m so sorry! I didn’t see you there” he looks down at you, shocked, glaring.

He looks angry was your first thought, before you saw in his eyes he was just ... shy. He nods once and grunts as he walks around you with the boys he was with. Another boy looks back at you smirking as they walk away.

“She was cuuuute, Aone” Futakuchi says and Aone just grunts, the tips of his ears pink. “Don’t worry. I’ll make it so you run into her again” he says and Aone glares at him “no.” He says sternly to which Futakuchi just laughs and takes off running back to you.

Aone was close behind, but not close enough.

“Hey! Pretty girl!” You turn and the boy yelling is the smirking boy and he’s running up to you “There you are. What’s your name?” He says with a laugh when he gets to you, you feel the weird energy of him rushing “y/n” you say quick, matching his rushing vibes.

Futakuchi looks over his shoulder before looking back to you with a grin “hey y/n I’m Futakuchi it’s nice to meet you. My big friend, who you ran into, his name’s Aone by the way, anyway he thinks you’re really cute but he’s really shy and he’s gonna be here any second oh hey here he is” his words came out in one breath, in like two seconds, and when the big guy runs up and looks pissed you meet his eye and bust up laughing, making Aone nervous. He furrows his eyebrows and blushes a little but Futakuchi just looks amused. “You boys are crazy” you say while giggling now and digging around in your bag for your notebook and pen.

When you find you you open it and write down your name and number down, adding a little heart before ripping out the page and foldding it. You smile up at Aone as you take his hand and place the paper in it. “Hey handsome. Text me sometime, okay?” You wink at him, loving how he blushes, before glancing over at Futakuchi knowing he’ll probably get slapped or something for that stunt. “I have to go because I’m already late for my own practice. See you boys!” You say before jogging down the hallway to the girls gym.

Aone stares at his hand and the paper, Futakuchi smirks and smacks him on the back “you’re welcome bro” Aone closes his hand softly around the paper before turning to look Futakuchi dead in the eye and just saying “run.”

“Y/n! You’re late!” Your captain calls out as you run in to the locker room to change “I know! I’m sorry. I got held up by the boys vb club but no it’s not what you think” you laugh at their looks. Everyone thought the vb club to be intimidating. To be honest you’ve always noticed Aone but never had the chance to really talk to him so safe to say you were thrilled with how the day has went.

After practice and your shower and change, shoving your stuff in your bag and over your shoulder before walking to the train station with a few team mates. You take different trains but you always enjoy meeting up at the station and walking together.

On the train you sit in the same seat nearest the door, easier to control the creeps next to you and easiest to get out quick. You pop in one headphone to listen to music for the thirty minute ride home.

He barely made his train and his heart beat thumped in his chest as he got on seeing you there, he’s usually on time and never noticed you took the same one. He sits in his usual spot on the other end of the train and pulls out his phone, staring at an empty text with your name in the top recipient line. He types out a quick message and presses send, then immediately regrets it.

“We take the same train” is what the text bar said, you only gave you number to one person recently and your heart beat quickened as you raised your head to look around the car for the blonde boy. You saw the back of his head and his ears giving away his blush. You saved the number in your phone as Aone ♥︎ before texting him back. “Why didn’t you sit next to me?🥺” You watch his ears turn red as your message turns to read, and wait for his response.

He racks his brain for a response. A reason why he didn’t sit next to you. A good reason too, because now as he thinks about it he had a better reason to sit next to you. He was bad at this, he didn’t know how to flirt. What was his move now? He watched the line indicator blink on the screen but couldn’t think of anything to say. He looks up when someone touches his shoulder and sees your beautiful face smiling at him

“is this seat taken?” You ask and point to the empty window seat next to him. “Uhh no” he says quietly and locks his phone putting it in his hoodie pocket as he sits up straighter and turns his legs to the side so you have space to move past him. You look at his long legs, almost touching the seat in front of him still, mentally going through options of ways to climb over them to sit down. You just go for it, you shimmy your leg over, deciding to face him while you do this, but your foot steps on one of his bag straps and you fall into him. Your hands land on his chest and his hands come up catching your hips as you both blush deep shades of red looking at each other for a few shocked seconds. “Sorry” you say at the same time and you push yourself against his chest to get your feet under you again, his hands still soft pressure against your hips as you stare into his eyes for a moment before you move over to the seat the hands on your hips guiding you over softly making sure you won’t fall again. “Thank you.... “ you take a deep breath and say “Wow that could have gone better” you both laugh and he nods in agreement and rubs his sweaty palms against his thighs. You feel grateful you could at least get him to laugh after that experience.

After a few minutes, when your heart rate calmed down and you noticed his blush was almost all gone, you softly bump your shoulder into his and smile when he meets your eyes “hey” you say softly and he looks back at you “hi” he says and you smile as the awkwardness leaves you. You settled into some easy small talk, asking questions about him, telling him about yourself. You told him about the lovely woman who ran the store near your house, who used to babysit you and comes over for every holiday meal and found out you lived near each other. He was quiet but the more you talked to him and told him about yourself it made him more comfortable with you.

He clears his throat “Um. What music do you like? I saw you with uh headphones before?” You hear his how nervous he is, like he’s never talked this much before. You love his voice, it makes you feel special to hear him talk so much. “Mostly (your fav music) but I like a lot of different things too. Do you wanna listen to some?” He nods and you pull out your phone, offering him one ear bud while you put the other in your ear. You played him your top favorite songs and he really enjoyed it, making a mental note of your favorite music and bands so he could look them up later. You spent the rest of the ride in silence just sharing music, every once in a while he’d hold out his hand and you’d hand him your phone to play a song he likes. He blushes every time you add a song he likes to a new playlist you named after him. It was a special moment that you had dreamed about having with someone before.

When you got off the train at the stop that you shared, you shivered against the cold air of the sun going down and realized you forgot your track jacket back in the locker. You hug your arms close to you and rub your hands against your arms to get friction. He looks at you from the corner of his eye for a split second, not giving himself any time to chicken out before he quickly pulls his black hoodie from his body and hands it to you with a grunt.

You watch him take his hoodie off, pulling up his under shirt and exposing his belly and blonde hair below his belly button. Your brain short wires at the sight. When he shoved the hoodie in your hands you blush deep pink before clearing your throat and shyly asking “Are you sure, Aone?” holding it in your hands like something precious. “Yes.” He says back with a nod. You looked so adorable when you were shy, he noticed you blush and that he wanted to make you blush as much as he could.

You smile and slip his sweatshirt over your head, it was still warm with his body head and it sent comforting tingles through your chilly body. He smells like mint with a hint of his natural scent, you smiled as you pushed the hood from your face. “Thank you.” You say and he nods once again. Then an idea hits you.

“Hey Aone?” You say and he hums in response “do you think you could hold my hand? My fingers are freezing and you’re so big and warm and nice?” You say and look up at home with a cute pout. He blushes a deep red and nods before slowly holding his hand out to you. You take it and lace your fingers together “my hand feel so small in your big strong one. Thank you” you smile sweetly up at him and his heart beat skips a few times. For the rest of the walk you rubbed your thumb softly against his, giving him butterflies.

When you mentioned how cute the little silver turtle pin was on his backpack, his eyes lit up as he talked to you about his pet turtle and the first time he saw one as a kid. He was completely adorable you could hardly stand it. You made a mental note of his turtles name and that memory he shared with you, it felt like the most precious information that he rarely shared with anyone. It was like you just opened the door to him and caught a glimpse of the real him. You felt so special. He catches you smiling at him and blushes, getting shy again and looking away. “What?” He says quietly and you chuckle before softly bumping your shoulder into his again and giving his hand a squeeze “I’m just really glad I ran into you today. Literally” you laugh before continuing “I think you are really amazing, Aone.” You blush a little stop walking, pulling him with you “this is my house” (he’s actually three house back he just didn’t notice) he was blushing from your nice words and was honestly sad when your time came to an end, you could see it on his face.

You squeeze his hand again and he looks at your hands together then up in your eyes, squeezing your hand back. “I take the train at six for morning practice, do you?” He nods and you take a step closer to him “do you want to walk together?” He nods again and says “yes.” You slowly, just in case he objects, wrap your arms around his middle, laying your head on his chest as you hug him. He wraps his arms around you gently and grunts, but it sounded ... happy? Like a grunt mixed with a hum. It made you happy anyway. You pull back and look up at him “see you tomorrow ” you quickly stand on your tip toes, hands on his shoulders to pull yourself as far as it takes to kiss his cheek before running into your house, giving a wave at your door before closing it. He waited until you were gone to walk back a few houses awkwardly.

[calypsoff2]

Ten.

I wouldn’t think I would be awake so early, we arrived in pure luxury, and I just felt like I started a new life with Chris, as soon as I got off the jet I felt stress free instantly, I am ready to just be us for a few days. Celebrate us lasting actually, but I mean that in the best way possible. I always felt like people didn’t like it, I mean the greater people in my life. My management hated I married so early on; I got a baby so early too. There was so much potential being single, no baggage. Then on top of that I kept getting pregnant, so I had to prove a point, I had to push myself and my kids got neglected but I am getting there, I am getting a balance, but I had to prove that my private life isn’t theirs for the taking, and now look at us, I am so happy. I miss my kids of course but I am just happy to have this break, as soon as Chris and I got into this hotel room that was filled with roses, wine we had sex as soon as we got here and fell asleep, I think the butler just wated to leave, he was gone before we knew it, but I am just so happy. Just to have the double doors open, to feel the breeze from the ocean, just pure peace. Taking in a deep breath and looked up at Chris with the biggest smile on my face, life is great. Chris holding me while we slept, I don’t even remember that Chris put his boxers on actually. Furrowing my eyebrows not remembering that at all, pushing the covers off of him, he is knocked out asleep which makes me laugh, his ass bust a nut and he’s over it.

Sliding a finger under the elastic band of his boxers, lifting the fabric, biting my lip as his member poked out from his boxers, his member resting against his stomach. He's always a morning person, actually he can have it at any time, he has no time, but I sure do like to see a boner. Curling my fingers carefully around the base of his member, I glanced up and find myself greeted with his warm, sleepy eyes as he blinks down at me “I wasn’t conscious, it’s rape babe” he wakes up being dumb, as always “Morning, poppa” I murmur softly, he's always slow to wake in the mornings, eyes hazy and unfocused. He's gentle, sometimes a little clumsy, but always affectionate in a way that makes my heart melt a little. Flashing him a grin, I leaned down, my tongue swiping a lazy path around his swollen head before I let him slide past my lips, my suction gentle as I eases him into a rhythm. A groan rumbles out of his chest, making me shiver slightly. He tastes good, he feels good, he sounds good, Chris always tastes good and there isn’t no lying about that.

He's intoxicating, in more ways than one, and the damp heat between my thighs is testament to that. His fingers tangle into the back of my head as I bob gently over him, dragging my hand over the thick length of him that isn't surrounded by the heat of my mouth. I can feel the tension beneath me as his body wakes up, and I let the fingers of my free hand settle at his hip. His body settles and I hum softly, drawing him deeper into my mouth for a long moment before releasing him with a pop of my lips that has him groaning all over again “man, Robyn" he mumbles, his voice low and sweet and slightly breathless, thumb rubbing behind my ear. Before he can catch his breath, I am on him again, this time picking up a rhythm that's gentle, but dirty enough to have him twitching and writhing beneath me even as I control the strength of his body with the simple press of my fingers at the pressure point on his hip.

The stroke of my hand has him choking out my name, this is between crying and choking out my name. He is completely undone “fuck” I am not stopping either, he is riding this out no matter the point of him pushing my head away. I swallow the evidence of his orgasm with my eyes locked on with his, my name on his lips. To have this much power over Chris is the biggest turn on for me, releasing him from my lips, I lets my fingers continue a gentle, soothing rhythm over his slow softening length as I crawl up his body, laying my cheek against his shoulder and pressing a kiss against his collarbone as I listen to his breathing slow and feels the steady burn of arousal through my body. “Robyn” he said softly, drawing my focus and sounding exactly like a man who just woke up to some world class head from his wife and I am proud of that shit. Laughing softly, I tipped my head up to graze a kiss against his jaw “mute now” I said laughing “a little” he mumbles, resting my head on his chest. Letting his palm smooth up and down my spine “shower” he kissed the top of my head, not until he can tell me that was the best head he got “that head was unbelievable, I am still speechless” I had to laugh because I was waiting on that.

Feeling a hand on my shoulder, looking up and Chris pressed a kiss to my lips “mhmm” I said grinning as he sat across me “just orange juice brother” Chris said as he sat down across from me, looking away seeing the ocean view. I swear I am in my zone; this is the life I love. I think I would be happier living in Barbados, I think it’s the best thing if we could, but we have no choice but to stay in Cali for work “you look so happy, thank you” looking back at Chris, the butler walked off “I am, don’t you think this is the life? The sun, the people, like there is no drama Chris. I love it, and the breakfast” Chris already started to eat “and the sex” of course he would add that to the list “true and the sex, I am glad I chose to do this. We needed this gateway, it’s nice to just be us. Are you happy now? Like glad we are here?” Chris nodded his head “I am here for the sex” if he says that one more time “is that all I am to you?” Chris paused before he ate his toast “I am joking, don’t get offended. I am happy to be here with you, just to not have the kids interrupt us. I feel like we have to cater to them, now we can do it for us” he winked at me, taking in a deep breath “so, what you think to Mel having a baby by that dickhead?” I asked “she is stupid, not shocked though. He would knock her up for money, I mean she pay him” I sniggered “she doesn’t have money like that, but she will sure put a roof over his head, that makes her step mother too. She is so fucking stupid; I am so angry with her. I don’t understand why you would do that, like he is going to be connected to us. I don’t want it” Chris shook his head “he won’t be, trust me. I won’t forgive him for doing that to me, he has no job, no home, no money or anything. Fuck him, this trip ain’t about him or even Mel, she is a bird” poking my lips out at him.

Clearing my throat, I know he said he doesn’t want to speak on Mel, but he did mention about Mel having sex constantly “go on” Chris said claspin his hands together smirking, he knows I want to ask “what you think about the whole thing? I am actually angry at you too, you knew! Why didn’t you tell me about them idiots!” I spat “minding my business, yes I knew Robyn, but they wanted to keep this low. I feel like personally Mel was ashamed, she didn’t want you to know at all, she was big on that” Mel really pissed me off, well she has practically lied to me “but what has TJ been saying about Mel, you called my friend a bird?” I want to know now “things” he shrugged “first you don’t tell me about them being together and now you are holding back on me?” he is being so annoying right now “look at you wanting to know, TJ just said things like he does like Mel and that she had sex with him on the first day, she was up for it and they had sex in all holes as he stated, she was easy in a way. Mel just put out and that she isn’t like you, he did mention that. He was worried she wouldn’t want Camron at that time, he spoke on also Mel is good at sex, come to think of it he spoke on their sex life a lot” putting my hand up “stop, he’s just making my friend easy, like she is a whore that is sick of him to say that to you and also you repeating it, please don’t say that to Mel again, it’s disrespectful because she don’t know what was being said” Chris nodded his head but I don’t know if he will actually listens to me because it’s Chris “so what was said about it, well this boy talk seems mediocre to be fair” Chris put his head down, I would like to know but if he doesn’t want to say then he doesn’t, Chris looked up at me “shall we get over with it now?” blowing out air “I suppose” I mumbled, I mean what are we waiting for.

“I just want you to know that this was all boy talk, but I feel like because I have fallen out with TJ that I need to tell you, I just don’t trust him. He may twist my words; I mean he pretty much used my words against me with what he was saying ok? I mean ok you’re allowed to be angry but please don’t’ argue with me because I am human, I need to rant do I not” nodding my head, I can imagine it being stupid talk now “I won’t, just tell me” then we can move on with the trip “so basically the whole thing with Mel, like why TJ spoke on that was because I spoke on us having sex, that we have good sex. We did anal and that shit was good, but he started saying about Mel and just my hate for your lingerie, I dislike that you show your body off. I ranted about it, I had to let it out. So he was listening to me say that, just seeing you looking so sexy it just annoyed me because I can imagine other men jerking off to it, so that is what I spoke on because I was mad, and we touched on that you speak to me like a child, but I think I was just being sensitive at that moment. Then we put a bet down that you will leave again, so that is why he bought it up. TJ agreed with what I said about you always leaving and being away from the kids. We spoke on cheating” my face dropped, Chris is watching my reaction “he asked if that is something I would, because I was pretty fed up because when we had sex that night you just laid there, and you were so depressive so he asked and I said no, there is one thing I will never do because you are a good wife, I knew it was a bad patch, so we spoke on that. TJ when thinking back he fed off my negativity. When I spoke on something that annoyed me he fed off it but it is what it is, I guess I got to keep my mouth shut” shaking my head “sorry if like I have angered you” he apologised “don’t be sorry Chris, I have spoken to Mel about you too. I have said things like he lasted a minute even then when you speak that you want me to eat your ass, it happens but I also get why you told me. Is there anything else? I don’t want to hear it again?” Chris shook his head, I am not even angry at what he said at all, it’s talk “speak to me, even if it’s about me” Chris laughed “sure” he mumbled, I know he won’t but still.

[infernwetrust]

The Hotbox [Jim Mason x Duncan Shepherd]

Summary: A little look into how Jim and Duncan handle stress.

Warnings: smut, rough smut, fluff, drug use, apply tags as you see fit

WC: 1.9k

A/N: Idk what was going through my head as I wrote this, but I committed to it. Part of my little Duncan x Jim series that can be found on my master list, here. Thank you for reading! -Juno

GIF by queenxxxsupreme

Duncan laid in bed in his birthday suit, an arm behind his head. Laid with his head against Duncan's chest was Jim, also in his birthday suit. The two snuggled closely together, barely paying attention to the horror movie that was on the TV in front of them. Duncan with his free hand, scrolled through his Twitter feed, Jim occasionally glancing between his phone and the TV.

Marijuana smoke created a thick haze in their master bedroom, the smell calming for both of them. Today was a rough day, for the both of them. And for rough days, there was the nightly hotbox. It consisted of just Jim and Duncan, bare. No exceptions. They'd smoke until they were high off their asses or their lungs tapped out. Snacks and drinks were kept nearby for when the munchies struck.

The rules were simple. There were none. The only thing that could save them from each other's wrath in the hotbox was their safe word "Indica". Aside from their safe word, they could be as ruthless as they wanted to be, as they needed to be. Degrading names, within reason of course, rougher play than what Duncan usually brings to the bedroom. His chest was covered in purple and red bruises and scratches from when him and Jim first laid down. Jim was beyond agitated when he got home and it caught Duncan off guard when he had busted through the front door almost knocking the pictures off the walls.

It wasn't all rough play during this time, however. Sometimes their sweetest and most vulnerable sides came out and they'd make love to each other, slowly, round after round after round until one of them were to sleepy to continue. It was usually Duncan.

"Hotbox?" Duncan questioned as Jim stormed passed him

"Hotbox." Jim responded through a clenched jaw, quickly glancing back at Duncan.

And while Duncan had had his own frustrations with work today, it didn't cause him to come home the way Jim did and he automatically knew that he was Jim's for the night. That was a battle he knew he wasn't going to win. Although the roles were clearly defined, Duncan has subbed for Jim a couple of times. In fact, Jim is his first partner that he's ever switched for and he enjoyed it. Sometimes age really was just a number. Jim always fucked Duncan with the stamina he had in his younger years. Rough, fast, and sloppy, it made him a mess underneath Jim every time and that's how the both of them learned that Duncan was really vocal in the bedroom.

Tired of laying around, Jim got up suddenly, firmly pushing his hands into Duncan's chest as leverage, causing him to grunt. He watched as Jim walked across the room, bare-assed. He picked up the leftover joint they had tapped out on, placing it between his lips before reaching for a lighter and lighting it. He casually walked into their walk-in closet, grabbing one of his favorite ties that Duncan wore before walking back over to the bed. He snatched Duncan's phone out of his hand, tossing it wherever.

"Put this on." he said, throwing his tie at him and snatching the sheets off of him. "Lay the other way. Spread for me. Can you do that for me, Mr. Shepherd?"

Duncan nodded, quickly putting his tie on, tightening it just the way Jim liked around his neck, causing Jim to grin. One knee on the bed, he set himself comfortably between Duncan's legs, joint still hanging from his lips as he exhaled. He briefly removed it to lick his hand, grabbing and squeezing Duncan's length. Duncan sighed at the sudden contact of Jim's warm and wet hand, throwing one of his arms behind his head again.

"I swear you fucking trust-fund babies." Jim spat as he stroked Duncan at a painfully slow pace, still squeezing him. Duncan began chewing on his bottom lip, knowing what was coming next. To see his sweet ocean eyes be so condescending was more than a turn on. "Think your so fucking entitled to shit just because you have a little bit of money?"

"A little bit of money?" Duncan managed to get out between his heavy breaths, a small laugh behind his tone. Before Duncan could even take his next breath, Jim had has hand wrapped underneath Duncan's jaw, fingers digging in just a little bit to create that pressure that drove Duncan insane even though it made him mostly light headed. It forced his vision to just focus directly on Jim, ignoring all the other surroundings in the room.

"I didn't say you could speak, now did I?" Jim questioned, squeezing a bit harder.

"N-no." Duncan struggled to get out, lust in his hazy eyes. "But it's funny that you think that-," Jim's palm was already against the side of Duncan's cheek before Duncan could even finish his sentence.

"Always seeking a challenge huh?" Jim questioned again amused, letting up and going back to stroking Duncan painfully slow but with a menacing pressure. "Talk so damn much, so controlling, but you just want someone to fill both of your holes? Isn't that right?" With every word that Jim spoke, Duncan twitched in his hand, chest rising and falling rapidly. Jim picked up the pace quickly watching as Duncan threw his head back, biting down on his lip hard, a series of loud moans escaping from his mouth.

"Don't have any answers for me now do you, huh?" Jim mocked, rubbing at his own length. "Sigh. You fuck-faces never have an answer to anything. Maybe I should go around not giving answers too. I'll just swing my dick around, giving out stupid little flashy smiles, holding fake conversations so people like me better. Just like a little bitch." Duncan squirmed underneath Jim, thrusting upwards to meet Jim's frantic and wild pace. He could barely hang on with how soaked Duncan was from his spit-slicked hand and his own pre-cum. Surprisingly Duncan didn't last long with Jim 'chewing' him out like that.

"Pathetic." Jim said as he stroked Duncan out, watching as his cum painted his stomach and chest, Duncan moaning Jim's name with every squirt. Jim grabbed the end of Duncan's tie, using all of his strength to pull him up from the bed and closer to him.

"I'm sorry... I'm sorry..." Duncan mumbled, still a horny mess as he looked him right in his eyes. He was practically begging for Jim through his fake "I'm sorry".

"I'm gonna show you just how sorry you can really be." He tightened Duncan's tie even tighter before pushing him back down on the bed and climbing over him. This was just the beginning of their night in The Hotbox.

But where was all this coming from? Despite Duncan letting Jim know that he didn't have to work and that he would always be taken care of, Jim still persisted, wanting something to do during the day. So he took up a part time job as customer service rep at a t-shirt shop on the board walk, owned by a friend's family. Jim loved his job to put it simply. And his boss and fellow co-workers loved him. He was a positive influence around the shop. Extremely friendly and optimistic, he kept everyone laughing and boosted morale. A master at the art of platonic flirting, most days he's stand outside the shop, with his shirt off or in one of the store branded tank-tops. He didn't even have to say much. People flocked to him naturally, drawn in not only by looks but his gentle persona.

He became a favorite around the boardwalk. Often people would stop to take pictures with him and he quickly became the social media ambassador for the shop's Instagram page. Duncan was also a favorite in the shop, sporting some of the graphic tees that they had to offer. On the days he would pick Jim up from work, they would almost always leave an hour after Jim was off, caught up in good conversation with the store manager or the store owner, his arm wrapped around Jim as he spoke.

But there was just this one guy Jim didn't get along with. Max. A super well-known rich kid, for all the wrong reasons, he got on Jim's nerves anytime the two worked together. Overly confident, overly cocky, but yet so fucking lazy barely helping out around the store or picking and choosing his tasks. He always got off easy, his parents having countless amounts of money to get their sweet baby boy out of trouble. It drove Jim insane. Today at work they had gotten into it real bad, throwing insults back and forth, almost resulting in an actual fist fight, broken up by Jim's close friend who also happened to work with him. By the time his left he was so heated and was missing Duncan extra this evening, so he was relieved when Duncan immediately offered the Hotbox when he entered the house.

Jim fucked Duncan relentlessly against every surface in their bedroom, not letting up at all, taking pleasure from hearing Duncan's bitchy whines and moans as he stretched him out thrust after thrust. The both of them now covered chest to abdomen in purple and red bruises. Duncan scratched and clawed at Jim, leaving hickeys wherever he could, which sadly meant that Jim couldn't have his shirt off at work tomorrow. The scratches down the side of his arms and back were easier to explain, so a tank top would have to do. With Duncan it was free reign, considering the dress code for his work office. He didn't care if they were visible on his neck, he showed them off proudly. Already an established man in life, he had no fears about his future.

"You know I didn't mean all that shit I said tonight right?" Jim asked, looking back at Duncan as they sat together in their bath. Duncan had his head rested against the wall, glass of whiskey on ice in his hand, staring back at Jim.

"I know." Duncan chuckled. "Trust me, I know, but it was so damn sexy hearing you say it because well you're not wrong." He wrapped his free hand that rested on the side of the tub around Jim, holding him close.

"Plus, I didn't really have any one to put me in my place during my younger years." he winked. "Also was a bit condescending and entitled, but hey, it got me ass left and right."

"You're terrible." Jim laughed, pressing a kiss to the side of Duncan's jaw. "Cute, but terrible. And you want to know the sad part? I'd probably be right there in your lineup."

"I wouldn't let you be. You're not like everyone else, ocean eyes. You mean the world to me and I wouldn't forgive myself if I just tossed you to the side."

"I love you s'much, Dunc."

"But I mean if you're willing to give up that a-,"

"Shut up and kiss me."

"Yes, sir."

Taglist: @jimmason @angelicmichael @whatcodysaid @9layerdevilfoodcake  @xavierplympton @guiltyfiend @mikhalxngdon @fernfiction​ @theneverendinghunger​

[wheresmynaya]

Lost in the Lights Ch.10|Brittana

A/N - Am I heartbroken about that embarrassment of a game I had to witness last week? Yes. Do I wanna talk about it? God, no LOL. Hopefully the McKinley Titans do a better job in the playoffs! Might even mess around and make QB!Britt’s Game Day playlist 🤷🏽‍♀️

Available on ff.net (x) ao3 (x) & under the cut

Santana stomps her way over to Quinn’s locker and slams it shut in one big huff. Quinn looks up from packing her duffle bag, annoyed confusion written all over her face.

“Problem, Lopez?”

Santana continues to grimace but looks hesitantly around the locker room, her brows furrowed and her shoulders stiff. Her chest feels tight with everything she’s been holding in and she swears she’s about to burst at the seams if she doesn’t say something soon.

The squad filtered out minutes before and Brittany’s still practicing on the field with the Titans, but she can never be too sure. Someone’s always listening it seems and she can’t be burned a second time.

“Hello?” Quinn waves her hand at Santana, “Is there a reason that you’re going around slamming lockers?”

Santana can hear the annoyance in her tone but her facial expression says differently when their eyes finally meet. For as long as they’ve known each other, all it takes is one look to realized something deeper is going on.

Quinn softens, “Shit. What happened?”

Santana shakes her head and lets out the tiniest whimper, “I’m fucking this up.”

Quinn catches Santana just as she stars to slide down the lockers in trembling mess. She pushes Santana to sit on the bench instead.

Hot tears start to stream down Santana’s cheeks like the floodgates have finally opened. She hasn’t let herself feel the brunt of everything yet, not until now. It’s a little relieving, but it’s not enough.

“What are you talking about?” Quinn asks.

“I’m fucking this up.”

Quinn lets out a sigh but keeps holding Santana up as she continues to sob. Instead of pressuring her to talk, Quinn just let’s the girl cry it out first.

\\

Once Santana has finally settled down some, Quinn hands her a couple tissues from the travel pack she keeps in her duffle. She eyes her wearily before trying to get an answer out of Santana again.

“So, are you going to tell me what’s going on now?”

Santana’s averts her gaze to the ground. Her jaw is set and her lips are sealed as she wipes the angry tears from her face.

The reluctance to talk has Quinn rolling her eyes.

“Don’t be stubborn. You’ve been in a bad mood all day then you go and do that,” Quinn gestures to her locker, “Just tell me. Is it about your dad? Is he giving you a hard time again?”

Santana shakes her head.

Quinn thinks, “Is this about JBI’s blog? Because I doubt anyone is believing a word he says after his whole tater tot conspiracy was a bust. He’s already lost a ton of followers, I think he’s just reaching now.”

“It’s not that.”

“Okay…then what is it?”

Santana lets out a deep sigh, “She just wanted to talk and I couldn’t even do that.”

“Brittany?” Quinn asks hesitantly.

Santana nods.

“What’d she want to talk about?”

Santana threads her fingers together and squeezes, “Us.”

Quinn looks confused, “And you couldn’t talk about that because…”

“Why do you think?” Santana grumbles, “Because I’m a goddamn coward, that’s why. She wanted to talk about us and what we were doing and I just – I couldn’t.”

Quinn sighs and starts to rub Santana’s back.

“I knew it was coming. She’s been wanting to talk for weeks now I think. I just – I did what I always do,” Santana admits, “I got in my head about it. I let that stupid little voice take over. I told her I didn’t feel the same way she did. I told her that I wasn’t looking for something serious.”

Quinn stays quiet as Santana continues to rant.

“I don’t know why the fuck I said that! I thought I was getting better at this. I thought I was making progress but I still ended up doing the same thing!” Santana adds, “I fucked this up and now she’s done with me, Q. I didn’t think she’d do it. I thought I’d have more time to figure everything out.”

“What’s there to figure out?” Quinn wonders.

“I don’t know,” Santana shrugs, “How to have a girlfriend when most of the student body here are assholes? How to have a relationship with someone that isn’t solely based on sex or how to boost my reputation? How to do any of this when my dad can barely look at me because I’m gay! How am I meant to be any good for her when I can barely look at myself sometimes? I’m ready and I’m not and that’s the worst fucking thing about this. I’m my own goddamn enemy.”

Quinn looks a little surprised by Santana’s honesty but she nods like she gets it.

Santana moves to hold her head in her hands. That might’ve been the first time she’s ever owned her sexuality so easily but she can’t even enjoy it right now.

“What do you want to do?” Quinn asks but Santana only shrugs again.

She’s been thinking about that all night and day, but there’s only one thing that keeps coming to mind and it isn’t really an answer. It’s more like a realization that’s probably been in the back of her mind for a long time now, maybe since the Homecoming dance.

She doesn’t know how it’ll help now. This isn’t some rom-com movie where all it takes is this grand gesture, a profession of her true feelings and all is right in the world. No, there’s real work to be done first and she hasn’t a clue where to start.

“I don’t want to lose her,” Santana replies softly.

“Well, fix it then?” Quinn suggests which earns her a disbelieving look, “What? You’re Santana Lopez, resident bad bitch of McKinley. You’re not supposed to be afraid of anything, yet here you are letting all of these fears push you around.”

“I’m not afraid.”

“Santana, you literally just said – “

“I know what I said!” Santana snaps.

Quinn purses her lips but relaxes, “We’ve had this conversation so many times. When you don’t try, you let them win. You want that? You want these people to be the reason why you can’t go out on that field tomorrow night and kiss the girl that you love?”

Santana doesn’t even waver at the word, she just wonders how long Quinn’s known.

“No.”

“Well then…”

“It’s not that easy.”

“Sure it is.”

“Tell that to Kurt,” Santana huffs, “He gets a slushie facial on the regular. Remember that kid everyone thought he was dating? He was bullied so badly that he had to transfer schools! I can’t deal with that. If I get into one more fight, that’s it for me. Honestly, I don’t think I could handle going through the rest of this year dealing with that shit and I can’t drag her down with me. She’s so much better than this place and everyone in it.”

Quinn narrows her eyes, “Well for starters, Brittany put a stop to slushie facials. There hasn’t been an incident in months.”

“That you know of,” Santana replies, “The football team isn’t the only ones capable of throwing a slushie in my grill.”

“You act like you’re taking on the entire world by yourself,” Quinn argues, “You realize you don’t have to do that, right?”

Santana frowns, “What are you talking about?”

“You’re trying to protect her and that’s thoughtful and all, but did it ever occur to you that she doesn’t need it?” Quinn replies, “You keep putting yourself in this position, but you don’t have to be in it. You have more people than you know that are rooting for you. Lean on them because you don’t have to face these people alone.”

Santana laughs bitterly at that, “You and who else? My mom? You guys going to create a secret service to follow me around everywhere to make sure nothing happens to me?”

Quinn lets out a frustrated sigh, “Well what now then? You just going to let them dictate your life? Just like your dad?”

Santana’s jaw tightens at that. She knows Quinn struck that nerve on purpose and she both hates and loves her for that.

“You can’t compare yourself to Kurt,” Quinn adds, “What you’ve both gone through is different so you can’t use him as an excuse.”

“He doesn’t deserve the way people treat him,” Santana replies, “The way I’ve treated him.”

“And neither do you, but there will always be assholes wherever you go,” Quinn says, “The difference between you and him is that one of you isn’t going to let them win. One of you is still trying.”

Santana’s at a loss for words and they both fall into silence.

“You said you don’t want to lose her?” Quinn mentions a moment later, “Well it doesn’t look like that from where I’m standing.”

“I don’t want to lose her,” Santana reiterates.

“Then you should probably talk to her before you give her the wrong idea, genius.”

Santana shakes her head and lets out a bitter laugh, “You make it sound like it’s the easiest thing in the world to do.”

“It is.”

“Says the girl that has practically dated Mike Chang for months yet refused to put a label on it until two weeks ago!”

Quinn purses her lips at Santana’s outburst, “We didn’t put a label on it because Mike’s parents didn’t want him dating during his Senior year. It had nothing to do with what we wanted, but that’s not what we’re talking about. We’re talking about you and Brittany.”

Santana sucks in a breath to calm herself down. It’s like a quiet apology that only she and Quinn share after years of friendship. They just sit together for awhile in silence while Santana’s mind works through it all.

“I don’t do relationships, Q,” Santana admits softly.

“You have an excuse for everything,” Quinn laughs, “You don’t do them because you’ve been dating boys this whole time when you’re gay as hell.”

Santana smiles at that.

“Are you really considering stepping back in the closet just because you’re too afraid to go out of your comfort zone?” Quinn asks, “Because that’s the kind of message you’re sending.”

“I don’t know,” Santana huffs.

“Jesus,” Quinn groans as she goes to face Santana fully, “The answer is no. You’re not going to do that. You’re a fighter, Santana. I don’t know when you forgot that but you are.”

Santana sits a little straighter. She doesn’t know when she forgot either.

“We’ve been friends for so long and I’ve seen the difference in how you are with Brittany versus all the dumbass guys you’ve dated,” Quinn says, “It’s a good different and you deserve it. After all that bullshit you went through last year, you deserve to have someone too. I don’t know how many times I need to tell you that before it gets through.”

Santana feels a different kind of loved, a kind that only longtime friends can share, as she takes in Quinn’s advice. There’s few people in her life that she can trust to give it to her straight and Quinn’s one of those people.

“You hear me, Lopez?” Quinn urges, “You deserve this and so help me God, if anyone tries to  say anything to you or her I’ll – “

“Okay, okay,” Santana pauses her with a chuckle, “I get it.”

Quinn relaxes and gives her an encouraging smile, “Talk to her.”

“Tomorrow’s that big game or whatever,” Santana frowns, “I don’t want to be a distraction.”

“Then do it after?” Quinn suggests, “Whatever. The sooner the better though.”

\\

That night, Santana paces her room trying to screw her head on straight. It’s pep talk after pep talk, anything to ease the anxious feeling in the pit of her stomach. If she’s prepared well enough, then maybe it won’t be so scary to put her heart on the line like this?

At least, that’s what she’s trying to tell herself.

Tomorrow’s the final game of the Playoffs and she knows how important that is for Brittany, so she doesn’t want to cloud her concentration. She’ll keep to herself and leave Brittany be for now.

Santana decides that she’s going to approach Brittany after the game like Quinn suggested. Hopefully she’ll be in high spirits after a big win and Santana won’t have to compete with the blues of losing.  

Who is Santana kidding? She knows that if anyone can take the Titans all the way, it’s Brittany.

\\\\\

As Brittany returns home after her morning run, she’s surprised to see her mom up and about in the kitchen. She takes out her headphones and kicks off her sneakers just in time to hear her mom call out to her.

“Morning kiddo!” Whitney calls out cheerfully. She’s wearing her polka dotted apron and there’s a spatula in one hand, a frying pan in the other.

“Morning,” Brittany smiles as she ventures in. Her stomach grumbles at the smell of bacon, “You’re up early.”

“Got the day off today,” Whitney tells her, “Thought you could use a real breakfast to start off the day. It’s an important one.”

Brittany smiles before going to grab a water. She was hoping the run would help clear her head since her thoughts have been running a muck since her conversation with Santana in the locker room. It helped a little, but the brunette still lingered in the back of Brittany’s mind.

Santana was a mystery to her. A beautiful, frustrating mystery.

“Everything alright?” Whitney asks with her brows furrowed.

Brittany continues to stare off in space, “Totally.”

“Then maybe you should shut the fridge,” Whitney teases, “You’re letting out all the cold.”

Brittany snaps out of it and realizes that she’s just been standing there with her bottle in hand. She tries to laugh it off and fills her mouth with water before turning to watch Whitney cook.

She’s cracking eggs into a mixing bowl with one hand now, Brittany always thought that was so cool, but Whitney still looks at her skeptically.

“You nervous about the game today?” She asks.

Brittany has to think. She’s always a little nervous before a game, but those are good nerves and she’s use to those. The feeling inside her now though isn’t something she’s familiar with. She kind of feels suspended, still stuck in this limbo with Santana even though they’ve talked.

If you can even call it that.

Maybe that’s what it is? Nothing feels resolved, none of her questions have been answered. If anything, there’s even more of them! It’s not a good mindset going into the final game of the playoffs. She’s been trying to tell herself that all night, but it hasn’t seemed to work.

She’s hurt and a little disappointed by how everything turned out. She hasn’t liked someone so much before and it’s been so long since she has gotten attached to anyone. It’s hard having to be around Santana now; what is she supposed to do with all the little things she has learned about her? It seems wrong to throw them away, but she doesn’t know what the point is in keeping them.

She’s not gonna need them anyway at this rate, but that also makes her wonder. Was that it for them? A whirlwind two weeks then this? Is that all they are meant to be?

Call it crazy optimism but as much as Brittany wants to throw her hands up and call it quits, she can’t. She’s never been a quitter and this thing that pulls her and Santana together is too strong to ignore. She could barely go a day without speaking to her, let alone the rest of her time in Lima. Maybe she should try again, but that also opens her up to getting hurt a second time.

When she sees Whitney look up at her from the corner of her eye, she realizes she hasn’t answered yet.

“My head’s just full of other things right now,” Brittany admits as she plays with the latch on her water bottle, “It’s hard to concentrate.”

Whitney quirks her brow at that, “What’s going on?”

Brittany only shrugs.

“Boy drama?”

Brittany shakes her head.

“Girl drama?”

Brittany hesitates before shaking her head, “I don’t really want to talk about it yet.”

“Okay,” Whitney nods, “You aren’t in any trouble, right?”

Brittany smiles at that, “No, mom, I’m not in any trouble.”

“I’m just checking,” Whitney chuckles as she cracks the last egg into the bowl. She pauses for a moment before looking to Brittany, “Well kiddo, focus on one thing at a time. You don’t have to go solving all your problems at once, okay?”

“Okay.”

“I know I don’t need to tell you that,” Whitney adds, “You’ve got a good head on your shoulders, but everyone needs a little reminder every now and then. Whatever it is, it’ll work out.”

Brittany feels a tiny spark of hope within her and nods, “One thing at a time.”

“Exactly,” Whitney winks, “Now go shower. Check on your brother too, these eggs won’t take long.”

\\

Brittany decides one thing at a time means winning this game before anything else. Football is what she’s good at, it’s where she thrives and now is as good of a time as any to get back to that.

Being apart of the Titans and getting them this far was her first commitment when she came to McKinley and it’s only right that she sees it through.

\\

It’s the last day before Thanksgiving break so a lot the students – and even some of the faculty – have already checked out. With it being a half day, classes are also on a shortened schedule on top of the Pep Rally at the end of the day. Most people are super excited for the game later; everyone’s decked out in their McKinley High spirit gear and the Titans walk around in their home jerseys.

Everyone offers Brittany and the Titans their luck too – everyone except for the Hockey Team. They just stare bitterly from the outskirts of the crowd where they will always stay if they continue to keep a losing record.

Brittany doesn’t pay any attention to them. She just attends her classes as normal and tries to avoid running into Santana for a second day. Thankfully, she has done a pretty good job of doing just that. She doesn’t even look her way in the cafeteria during lunch although she knows Santana’s there. Like always, she can feel her eyes on her but she doesn’t give in – not this time.

It’s always a different story when she gets to her last class of the day.

\\

Ms. Holliday greets Brittany with a knowing smile as the quarterback enters the classroom. The English teacher is dressed in jeans and a McKinley Titans spirit shirt with her hair tied up with a frilly red and white scrunchie.

“Exciting day,” Ms. Holliday says.

Brittany nods, “Definitely.”

“You’re gonna crush it,” She replies with a pat on Brittany’s shoulder before handing her a worksheet.

Brittany heads to her usual seat, a little thankful that Santana isn’t there yet. She’s been anticipating this moment all day, wondering if it’ll be different than the day before.

Yesterday, they didn’t speak. They didn’t even look at each other. They just sat in a long uncomfortable silence until the bell rang and they both could get the hell out of there as fast as they could.

But Brittany feels different about today and she doesn’t know why.

She knows she should be focusing on the game ahead, but she won’t lie and say it’s easy to go another day without talking to Santana. She’s been the best part of her day for awhile now, it feels off to be without her – especially on Game Day.

Brittany shifts into gear as she sees Santana enter the room from the corner of her eye. She looks up and watches the Co-Captain near their table; her books are hugged to her chest but her eyes stay glued to the floor. It’s the same as yesterday and it has Brittany feeling a little deflated.

But it doesn’t last for long.

“Hi,” Santana whispers as she starts to get settled.

Brittany’s eyes widen and she’s so surprised by the unexpected greeting that she almost forgets to return it.

“Hey.”

“How are you today?”

Brittany tilts her head and smiles even though Santana misses it, “Good. Nervous, but good.”

“You don’t have anything to be nervous about,” Santana tells her like it’s fact, “You’ll be great.”

Brittany softens, “Thanks.”

Santana continues to busy herself with getting her materials out while Brittany patiently waits to see if something more will happen, but nothing does.

It’s another class of sitting in silence, but it feels different this time. It’s not as heavy as it felt yesterday and Brittany’s grateful for that. Really, Brittany just feels a little relieved as she watches Santana get dismissed early for the Pep Rally.

“I’ll see you later,” Santana says and it’s another surprise, “Good luck if I don’t.”

Brittany only smiles, “Thanks.”

\\

The Pep Rally comes and goes and now it’s just a countdown until showtime. Brittany does everything she normally would in preparation for a game and even heads to the locker room early to get ready.

It’s different without Santana there, but it’s for the best.

The Titans need her all because this kind of game is about all or nothing. With a loss, that’s it for them. Their season’s over and for a lot of Seniors on the team, this is it. This is potentially the last game they ever play in their high school career and Brittany can’t have that on her conscience if she doesn’t give it her all.

She gets dressed to the sounds of her Game Day playlist which never fails to get her in the mood to kick some ass. With having the whole locker room to herself, it’s easy to get lost in the music as she continues to get ready. She makes sure she grabs her lucky towel and tucks it into the waistband of her pants before sliding on her left glove.

All that’s left now is a bit of eye black and her helmet before she’s ready to go.

\\

When she and the Titans take to the field for the first time, the feeling is like no other. The crowd is a sea of red and white and it’s the loudest it has ever been. The team rips through the banner and pulses with unwavering determination.

They’re hungry for a win and they’ll take down anyone in their path.

Brittany can feel the roar of the spectators in her chest and pumps her fist in the air as she admires the packed stands. It’s one of the coldest nights so far in November but she feels warm beneath the stadium lights. She knows it won’t last long though and keeps her hands tucked in her handwarmer pouch as she makes her way to the Titans sidelines.

It’s kind of inevitable that she sees Santana and the Cheerios there too.

They’re facing the crowd and waving their pompoms as they call out cheers to get the crowd even more pumped. Santana and Quinn are front and center and Brittany can’t help but steal a glance in the brunette’s direction. It’s only a quick one – enough to catch the brilliant smile she wears – before players interrupt her view.

“Pierce!” Coach Beiste calls out, “Coin Toss.”

Brittany nods and jogs out onto the field with Mike and Matt to meet the referee and the Team Captain from Crawford County Day along with their two elected players. They shake hands and introduce themselves first before the Ref goes over their usual speech about sportsmanship.

Everyone agrees to do their part in keeping the game fair before the Ref asks the visiting team whether they want heads or tails.

“Heads,” The Team Captain calls out.

The Ref tosses the coin in the air.

Everyone watches it spin several times before it lands to the turf. They look to the ground and the Ref bends to call out the outcome.

“Tails!” He says before gesturing to the Titans, “Titans it is your call.”

“Defer,” Brittany replies, trying to keep the smirk from showing. Winning the toss is kind of like a good omen, but she’s not counting her lucky ducks just yet.

The Ref nods and announces the Titans’ decision before the players leave the field.

Crawford County Day’s special teams comes out and the Titans’ special teams does the same. Brittany hangs back by Coach Beiste as they watch Kurt kick the ball away, signaling the official start of the game.

They hadn’t played Crawford County since the early weeks of the season, back when Brittany was still working on her relationship with the team. It was a rough start back then, but the Titans were able to secure a win in the end. They’re in a much better place than they were so Brittany’s excited to see what this game offers.

\\

Crawford County ends up being an even better competitor than Brittany thought.

It seems like the Titans weren’t the only ones working on their rhythm and communication since their last matchup. The Titans trail Crawford County by two touchdowns. It’s like every time they score, Brittany and the Titans aren’t that far behind with one of their own.

However, the Titans were shut down in their last drive and came up without any points.

It’s an offense-led game, but Brittany doesn’t like the idea of playing catch up all night. Not when there’s a Championship Game on the line. She wants to get into a better position going into the half because she knows they’ll be getting the ball afterwards. By then, she hopes it’ll be a blow out once again but she can only judge it one play at a time.

\\

There’s still 6 minutes left in the first half which is a lot of time depending on what you can do with it, especially when you’ve got the ball – and right now, the Titans don’t. If Crawford County was smart, they’d waste as much time as possible so the Titans won’t have much to work with by the time they receive the ball again.

Judging by the current situation, Brittany thinks that’s exactly what they’re going to do.

“Shit,” Brittany mutters as she waits anxiously on the sidelines. She can faintly hear the Cheerios cheering and it makes her want to look over. She’s been doing well so far, why mess that up now?

Brittany doesn’t have a reason. She just looks over instead like it’s second nature.

And like always, Santana’s already looking back at her.

It’s cliché to say, but she steals Brittany’s breath away. She’s waving her pompoms and going through the motions, but her pretty brown eyes never leave Brittany’s.

There’s a hint of a smile on Santana’s lips, it’s barely there but Brittany knows it all too well. She knows all kinds of Santana’s smiles but this is the one she doesn’t see very often. The last time she saw it was the Homecoming bonfire. She can’t remember what they were talking about, but she definitely remembers the way Santana looked at her that night.

It has Brittany smiling back and for a moment it feels like it’s just them on the field. It makes her happy just as much as it makes her sad, because they could’ve been so great together.

“Damnit!” Coach Beiste curses when Crawford County gets another first down.

It jolts Brittany out of her staring contest with Santana and forces her head back into the game.

They need a miracle because at this rate, the Titans are going to be down by three coming out of the half. That’s not the worst scenario possible, but Brittany doesn’t need them getting ahead anymore than they already are.

She watches the ball get snapped and the opposing team’s QB drops back. He searches for a target and launches the ball downfield, but something miraculous happens – a Titan defender catches it.

The crowd goes crazy and the sidelines are even rowdier as Matt takes off with the intercepted ball. He zips through the other players until he’s ultimately dragged down by their quarterback of all people. They’re in great field position now and Brittany can’t be any happier.

“Do something with this, Pierce,” Coach Beiste tells her with a hard pat on her back.

“Yes Coach,” Brittany replies before tugging on her helmet and getting back out there.

\\

The Titans are able to score once more before the half is called thanks to Matt’s interception. They leave the field in high spirits despite still being behind on the scoreboard by a single touchdown.

Well, most of the team is in high spirits.

“I don’t know why we can’t run the ball more!” Karofsky complains, “Lady Lips can’t catch for sh–“

“Hey!” Sam snaps.

“What?” Karofsky flinches at him, “It’s true.”

“It’s not.”

“You’re right,” Karofsky frowns as he turns to Brittany, “I thought you said you were taking us to the Championship?”

“You can lead a horse to water but you can’t make it drink,” Brittany replies coolly.

“Did you just call me a damn horse?”

Brittany shakes her head, “I’m saying this is a team effort. I can only do so much. It helps no one by tearing each other down.”

“Your head is in the clouds and we can all see it,” Azimio says.

Brittany’s stunned, “What?”

“You’re distracted,” Karofsky answers, “You’ve been like that for awhile.”

“Shit, I would be too if I was hooking up with Lopez on the low,” Azimio mutters beneath his breath.

That puts Brittany over the edge and she’s rounding on him before she realizes it.

“You don’t know anything!” Brittany shoves at him so hard that he nearly falls off the bench. The amount of strength behind the shove shocks everyone because Azimio isn’t a small guy.

“Yo! Chill out!” Azimio pushes her away.

“Talk about her one more time,” Brittany shoves at his hands as Mike starts to pull her back, “I dare you. Talk about her one more time.”

“He was just talking shit,” Karofsky defends with a smirk, “But looks like he might be on to something.”

“That’s enough,” Coach Beiste says before looking warily at Brittany, “Easy, Pierce. Whatever that is, deal with it later.”

Brittany regains her composure while Azimio and Karofsky do the same.

“I give everything to this team,” Brittany states, “I put in extra time on the field. I show up early, I’m the last one to leave. Who else here takes that kind of initiative? I can’t do everything!”

Karofsky waves her off but that just makes Sam even more annoyed.

“You’re such an ass,” Sam tells him, “You’ve been holding up this team’s progress since Britt got here. Who knows if you really want to win this thing.”

“What are you yapping about now, Evans?” Karofsky rolls his eyes.

“You don’t put in the work!” Sam says, “Britt would’ve thrown at least three TD passes by now if she had more time in the pocket but you’re so crap at blocking!”

“What?” Karofsky scoffs, “Let’s count how many times she’s been sacked this game. Oh wait, you can’t because she hasn’t!”

“That’s not because of you!” Sam replies, “She’s slippery, she gets out on her own no thanks to you.”

“What about knockdowns?” Kurt asks, “There’s been a few of those.”

Sam nods, “Yeah, that too!”

“Maybe you just need to be faster?” Azimio cuts in, “All that Bieber hair is probably weighing you down.”

Brittany lets out a sigh as they all start to argue. One thing she hates about being on a team full of guys, their arguments are usually ridiculous and pointless.

“That’s stupid,” Sam grumbles as he fixes his shaggy hair, “Britt needs better protection from both of you. We can’t get downfield because you – “

“We’re doing our job!” Karofsky yells.

“Bullshit,” Puck grumbles, “We have to rely on the passing game because neither of you can create a gap in their D. I’ve been getting snuffed out all night!”

“That’s definitely not on me,” Azimio brushes off, “You couldn’t get yardage if you were the only one on the damn field!”

“The hell you say to me?” Puck snaps and lunges at Azimio.

“Hey!” Coach Beiste booms, “How about focusing on your own roles, huh? If anyone’s going to call out what’s going wrong with this team right now, it’s me. I’m the one coaching this team, not you so cut it out.”

Everyone quiets down but Karofsky continues to stew in his annoyance. It’s nothing new to Brittany, as soon as they’re down – no matter the amount they’re behind – Karofsky and Azimio never fail to complain. Instead of taking ownership, they point the finger at anyone else in the room and Brittany hates that.

“I don’t want to hear anymore of you blaming one another. Each and every one of you are responsible for the outcome of this game,” Coach says, “No one is above or below anyone. You share this load so you better be doing your part. If one of you fails, everyone does. You hear me?”

“Yes Coach,” The team says in unison.

“We might be behind right now, but we’re gaining on them,” Beiste says, “This team is in much better shape and they’re getting worn out. Keep at it and we’ll come out of this on top. You all know what to do, you’ve proved it time and time again. Stay focused. Just keep going, keep putting that pressure on them.”

Brittany inhales a calming breath. She’s done a good job of staying calm and cool under the pressure, she’s done a good job of not telling Azimio and Karofsky’s crap get to her, she can’t stop now. They’re so close to a victory, she can taste it.

Coach Beiste eyes everyone, her gaze steely with her fists resting on her hips. She looks larger than life in front of them, “This is your moment, Titans, take it!”

\\

The Titans take to the field once more after halftime and Brittany remains optimistic about their situation. They’ll be starting the second half by receiving the ball, so it’s the perfect opportunity to tie things up. She tries to forget about the arguing and Karofsky and Azimio’s claims about Santana and get her head back in the game.

\\

The Titans end up on thin ice after their opening drive of the third quarter is a bust.

Brittany was really banking on it to tie the score but Crawford County’s pass rush is too intense. She’s starting to see her O-Line getting worn down despite everyone thinking it would be Crawford County whose fatigue would start to show by now.

It’s been scoreless on both sides as the game clock continues to eat up the third quarter. The Titans are still a TD away from tying things up and Brittany really wants that to happen before they enter the fourth quarter.

They need a big play to get a new set of downs but like Puck said in the half, he’s been getting shut down all night. The first down is only a couple yards away and a running play would be perfect but it might as well be a mile against the re-energized defense.

They need something Crawford County wouldn’t expect, something sneaky.

So in the huddle, Brittany calls the play despite Coach’s detest. It was all or nothing, and this would be just enough to get momentum going again. They need a spark, something that would breathe life back into this team after the morale has been slowly chipped away.

This was the only way she knew how to do that.

“Peek-a-boo,” Brittany says and looks everyone in the eye to make sure they’re with her.

Her teammates look surprised but they nod.

“Alright,” Brittany nodded resolutely, “Titans on three. One…two…three!”

“Titans!” They yelled out in unison with a clap before getting back to the line of scrimmage.

Her heart was racing but this is exactly what she loves about the game. It’s all about the adrenaline and making every play count. She can do this.

Puck gets into position beside Brittany as she readies herself for the snap. Her eyes stay searching the defense for any movement, always scanning.

“Down…hut,” She says lowly. She watches her inflection and thanks her lucky stars that no one on her O-Line flinches, “Down…hut.”

Again, her O-Line are statues. She was hoping she could draw an offsides from the opposing team, but they don’t move either. She stomps her left foot and Puck changes positions, “Down…HUT!”

The ball is snapped perfectly and she quickly fakes the handoff to Puck before he charges to the left. Brittany watches the mob of players move along with him before she’s tucking the ball and taking off in the opposite direction. She just needs a few yards to get the first down and she runs like hell towards it.

She can see in her peripheral that Crawford County’s safety and corner have started to gain on her. Her feet move faster and she jolts her arm out in a stiff arm that connects with one of the players.

The corner tumbles to the ground but there’s still one more Brittany has to worry about. The safety wraps gives her a hard shove but she outstretches the ball in hopes that she can still land the first down before she falls out of bounds.

Brittany hits the turf hard and the ball pops out but she can hear the Ref’s whistle blowing. She glances up in time to see him signal the first down and suddenly her shoulder doesn’t hurt all that bad.

She hops up from the ground as her teammates rush her, but even in the swarm of red and white jerseys Brittany finds herself glancing to the sidelines where Santana looks visibly relieved. Her pompoms are clutched to her chest but when she sees that Brittany is okay, Santana narrows her eyes almost as if to say don’t do that again.

Even if things are weird between them right now, it’s still nice to know Santana worries about her. Brittany smirks though at the chastising look and mouths an apologetic, “I’m sorry.”

But Brittany isn’t, not really. The smile she wears after making an incredible play can probably be seen from space, but they’re not done yet.

“Hell yeah!” Puck shouts excitedly as he slaps Brittany’s on the helmet, “That was so awesome!”

“Let’s do something with this,” Brittany says as determined as ever before getting her team back to their new line of scrimmage. She calls the next play but she wants to keep this momentum going and calls out, “Hurry! Hurry!”

Mike and Sam are set up with Matt on the opposite side. Puck’s next to her again to offer extra coverage as the ball is snapped. She drops back and searches for an open receiver but the linebackers are quickly closing in. The more time she sits in the pocket, the bigger chance she has of someone on her team getting penalized for holding. She has to act now!

Suddenly Matt gets open and Brittany fires the ball into his open hands. It’s like a laser beam but he makes the catch and brings it into his chest before getting tackled to the turf. It was a nice grab for a good chunk of yardage, another first down.

“Let’s go!” Mike cheers as everyone gets back into position.

The clock continues to tick away but they’re in way better field position now, Brittany has to make something of it. The endzone is right there, if she can’t get a strike she’s going to be really disappointed in herself.

In the huddle, she calls a play that’s well-practiced amongst the receivers but the challenge is whether or not her receivers can put enough distance between them and their defenders. A pass like this could be easily picked off and if it does, that’ll be a big blow to the Titans’ morale.

“Down…” Brittany calls out as she readies for the snap, “Down, HUT!”

Similar to the play before, her receivers take off but instead of running up field they make quick slants in different directions. Brittany looks for the most promising target and fires towards them. This time it’s Mike and he leaps into the air to make the catch. The ball continues to stay secured in his arms as he drops back to the turf and heads for the endzone.

Brittany watches it all happen in slow motion. One step, two step, three step, SCORE!

The stands erupt in applause while the team celebrates. Brittany rushes down to join them and for the first time all quarter, she feels like she can recognize her team again. They head to their sidelines as the special team is brought out for the extra point.

While everyone watches and waits to see what Kurt can do, Brittany’s glancing to Santana again. At first, she’s looking at the kicking team too but then she turns to Brittany almost as if she could feel her watching.

Santana quirks her brow and tilts her head toward the field but Brittany keeps staring. Maybe that hit earlier has knocked a couple screw loose but Brittany can’t find it in her to look away. She’s been depriving herself for the past two days now and in this moment, while she’s surrounded by her teammates and she’s meant to be tuned into the game, she just wants to look at Santana.

And she knows she shouldn’t want to go over there and kiss her either, but she can’t help what her heart wants.

The crowd cheering again after Kurt’s kick is good is the only thing that breaks Brittany’s concentration. The Titans have now tied with Crawford County and there’s still a whole quarter left in the game. Everyone looks revived and Brittany has such a good feeling about what’s coming next once they get the ball back.

\\

Halfway through the fourth quarter, the Titans lead by a field goal and they’re already closing in on another TD but again Crawford County’s D isn’t letting that happen so easily. They’re on third down and short but Karofsky’s already started up with his bullshit again after another pass was batted to the ground.

“I knew you’d choke,” Karofsky scolds after Brittany calls a timeout, “What the hell was that?”

Brittany shakes her head but continues to keep her cool, “It looked like they got the jump on you. Maybe you need to keep a better eye on your man.”

“I had my eye on him!”

Puck laughs, “I bet you did.”

Karofsky shoves at him and Puck shoves back. Matt quickly gets in between them and pushes them apart.

“You’re blowing this for us,” Karofsky claims as he glares at Brittany, “You were just all talk! Now that you’re here, you’re choking.”

Brittany frowns. She knows he’s just taking out his frustrations on her because she’s the leader of this team, but it doesn’t make it hurt any less. She doesn’t usually believe a thing he says, but the more he runs his mouth the less she starts to believe in herself.

Is she blowing this for them? Should she be doing more? What more could she possibly do?

“How about you take some ownership?” Brittany says instead, “As soon as something doesn’t go our way, it’s my fault. Well, what about you? What are you doing to make this team work? What’s your contribution?”

“This is bullshit,” Karofsky growls as he takes a step closer to her.

Brittany doesn’t waver, “Yeah. It is.”

She just keeps her chin held high and her fists tight by her sides. She could go off right about now, unleash all the pent up feelings she has about him and his shitty attitude and the comments he’s made about Santana.

She could do it, but she won’t. For the sake of this team and for Santana, she won’t. She’s better than him and she can’t stoop to his level no matter how bad she wants to.

“It’s not her fault you’re outmatched,” Sam replies as he pushes Karofsky back to his side of the huddle.

“I’m getting tired of you always defending in her!” Azimio snaps.

“We’re a team, that’s what we do! We have each other’s back.”

Karofsky just shakes his head before Brittany takes back the huddle. She calls her next play and tries to rally a bit of support but she can see her O-Line is tired and it doesn’t help that Karofsky keeps making things negative.

“Let’s just focus here,” Brittany tells them, “One thing at a time.”

So Brittany and most of the Titans do just that.

It’s one play at a time, one touchdown, one win. That’s all they need to do to come out of this on top.

Brittany sets up another play action and has Puck get into position next to her. The ball is snapped and she fakes it to Puck but #87 for Crawford County is in her face in an instant. It happens a lot quicker than it usually does so she has to scramble. She tries to duck and dodge him while looking for someone to offload the ball, but then she’s blindsided by #99 coming in from the opposite side.

She’s hit hard once again and drops to the ground with two defenders wrapped around her. Miraculously, Brittany was able to hang onto the ball during that sack but she’s slow to get up.

Actually, she’s slow to even move.

[clonewarslover55]

The Sparring Lesson

Walon Vau X Verda Tal Rose(My Mandalorian OC) SMUT

Here ya go you fellow Walon Vau sluts!!!

Notes: Check out the top of my masterlist for more information on Rose and Vau!! Find their fic, Memories, here 

Warnings: Smut, sparring, Vau is a brat, Rose is a brat, language, Walon Vau is a cocky son of a bitch, young!Vau, mentions of their kinky bedroom habits, choking kink, Vau bites, established relationship that I wrote a fic about that you all should totally go read please, reblog my OC content or I’ll cry 

*50 BBY, seven(7) years after they met*

*Mandalore, Verda Tal Rose and Walon Vau’s home.* 

Verda Tal Rose and Walon Vau were sparring just outside their small Mandalorian home that rested in a large forest. They spared in a large clearing nearby, while Mird sunbathed a little bit away. The only noise in the peaceful Mandalorian forest was the clashing of their staffs, and the birds singing. 

It was mid-summer on Mandalore, so it was pretty hot outside. Walon Vau was just in black jeans, and his boots. While Rose was in a sports bra and black pants. Both young warriors were sweating like crazy. 

“Your posture is still bad.” Walon smirked, causing the red head to immediately straighten her back and sneer at her lover. “Ah shut up Mr. Royalty. If you weren’t forced to have perfect posture as a kid I'd be a lot better than you!” Rose pointed at him which made Walon snort loudly before laughing.

He was distracted for a second which gave Rose the opportunity to charge at him, knocking him flat on his perfect ass. “Ha!” She stuck out her tongue. Walon gave her an offended look before he swept her feet out from under her, causing Rose to face plant. 

Rose busted out laughing and Walon couldn’t help but join. Her laughs were loud and obnoxious, but they’re incredibly contagious. Walon helped her up and frowned, “Your nose is bleeding.” Rose shrugged and wiped it with the back of her hand, “Eh, I’ll be alright.” It stopped bleeding quickly. 

Walon stared at her, “You’re gross and weird, but I love you.” Rose giggled and kissed him softly, “I love you too.” Vau smiled and kissed her again, his bare arms wrapping tightly around her waist.  She smiled against his lips and wrapped her arms around his neck, her nails teasing the hair at the nape of his neck. His hands moved to her ass, giving it a squeeze as his tongue fought with hers.

“You’re easily distracted, my love.” She whispered against his lips with a smirk. Before Vau could do anything he was suddenly knocked flat onto his back. He groaned as Rose straddled him, a shit eating grin on her face. “You’re a cruel woman.” 

Rose laughed and kissed him deeply, both of them quickly distracted by one anothers taste. Walon always tasted like winter to Rose. He tasted like freshly fallen snow and ice, causing goosebumps to break out along her pale skin. Even in the summer heat he still made her shiver. 

“We’re supposed to be improving your fighting skills.” Walon tsked slightly, a small smirk on his lips. Rose huffed and shifted her hips slightly, smirking when his jaw clenched. She felt him hardening underneath her, “We’ve done enough today.” She muttered as he kissed him passionately, their tongues instantly intertwining. 

Rose became easily distracted by Walon’s magical lips and tongue, which gave him an advantage. Rose screamed as she suddenly got flipped onto her back, Vau pinning her to the ground. She opened her mouth to call him some vulgar name, but was quickly distracted by his lips attacking hers once again. 

He moved his lips to her beautiful neck, the skin on their still slightly bruised with his past love marks. He didn’t care though, she was his and he’d mark her as much as he pleased. While Walon’s skilled lips were on her neck, Rose made quick work of unbuttoning and unzipping his jeans. He wore the tight black jeans so often that she could remove them with her eyes closed. 

Her lover never wore underwear, he said it was annoying and wasted time. It seemed stupid to her at first, but now it gave her easy access.  Rose giggled when he licked her sensitive collar bone, her hands stopping before she could pull his cock out. Walon chuckled darkly against her skin and swiftly removed her sports bra, tossing it somewhere in the soft grass.  

Vau cupped her breasts, his thumbs playing with her hard peaks. Rose moaned and threw her head back, Walon knew her body like the back of his hand, and he was very cocky about it. Vau nipped her bottom lip and pulled slightly, “Eyes open, my beautiful blood rose.” Rose opened her eyes, Walon’s golden predatory eyes staring her down. His gaze always made her shiver with desire.

Rose raked her nails along the sensitive nape of his neck, causing Walon to nearly purr. She gasped when his hot lips wrapped around her right nipple, sucking and lapping at it lightly. “Fuck.” She panted, her hands gripping his black hair as one of his hands played with her other breast. He had large hands with long fingers, and damn did he know how to use them. 

He gently tugged on her left nipple ring, Rose moaning loudly into the quiet forest. He moved his hand away, his lips moving to tease her neck and collar bone. Rose whimpered, which only made Vau smirk against her skin. His long skilled fingers made quick work of her pants, quickly yanking them down. 

Walon looked at her and groaned, “Such a cruel woman.” Rose giggled and flushed slightly, watching him slide a finger along the band of her black thong. She always wore his favorite one when they practiced because it got them both riled up. 

“I’ll remove it with my teeth next time.” He growled against her ear, nipping her earlobe slightly. He ran a calloused finger along her clothed slit a few times, moaning at her wetness. “You’re so easy my beautiful rose.” Rose scoffed and grabbed his hair, yanking slightly, “And you talk too much my dearest.” Walon snorted and yanked down her thong, careful of the lace. She was dripping with desire for him, the earth underneath her already wet from her leaking core.

Vau never ripped up her undergarments unless he was incredibly pissed and/or impatient. He was a gentleman afterall.  Rose yanked him down into a kiss, which was messy but still incredibly hot. He rubbed her clit slowly with his thumb, causing Rose to quiver and whine. “Stop teasing Walon. Please.” She nipped his bottom lip softly after the words left her mouth. 

He kissed her again, shimmying out of his jeans quickly. Rose went to grab his hard cock, but Vau was faster. He grabbed her hands, pinning them above her head with one large hand, “Not today. You didn’t do good today, so no touching.” Rose scoffed and wiggled her naked body slightly, stopping when the dirt and rocks dug into her soft skin. 

Walon rubbed the head of his cock against her soaked entrance, the heat of her nearly driving him mad. Rose bared her teeth, a cute glare on her face. She was so impatient sometimes. Lucky for her, he was too worked up to teach her a lesson at the moment.

 Vau suddenly dug his teeth into the sensitive spot where her neck and shoulder met, causing Rose to cry out loudly. He pushed into her with one clean and quick thrust, her cunt perfectly adapted to his large cock. He licked the hot blood away from her skin as he began a quick pace, his hips angled perfectly. 

He knew her cunt very well, so made sure to hit all of the sensitive spots within her sensitive heat. “Walon!” Rose cried as he picked up his pace, fucking her down into the dirt. He marked up her neck as he fucked her, his thrusts smooth and calculated. 

Walon continued to get faster and rougher, knowing Rose loved it rough. She struggled slightly in his hold, his hand holding her arms up still. “Eyes open.” He growled, his free hand wrapping around her neck. Rose snapped her eyes open, her walls clenching deliciously around his shaft. 

He applied a little pressure, not enough to cut off her air though. Just enough for her to feel a slight burn with each breath. Rose panted roughly, her pulse under his fingers racing as he slammed into her roughly. She loved being choked and marked up, and wasn’t afraid to show it.

She leaned up slightly so their lips could connect, her walls squeezing him tighter. His blood rose was close to her peak, so he shifted his hips again. Rose screamed out when he hit that extra sensitive spot deep within her, his name leaving her beautiful throat with a shout. 

Rose threw her head back, her back arching as she came with a scream of his name. His thrusts grew quick and sloppy as he fucked her through her orgasm, her walls quivering around him in the most delightful way. He didn’t last much longer after her. 

Her walls clenched around him like a vise when she came again, which quickly sent him over the edge. He growled out her name and profanities in a few different languages, his teeth sinking back into her skin. Rose shivered as his seed filled her to the brim, his cum hot against her walls. 

Vau collapsed on top of her, their foreheads pressed together. “Fuck.” She mumbled, Vau only nodded. They both laid there for a moment, basking in their wonderful afterglows. Once they both stopped panting Walon pulled his softening cock from her. Rose whined loudly, missing the fullness his cock gave her already. 

He got up, his muscles flexing under his pale scarred skin. He was so exposed to her, his scars inside and out visible to her. He never showed this side to anyone but her. She smirked to herself  and stretched slightly. Rose sat up, watching his cum leak from her. Vau looked at her and quickly looked away before he got hard again. He pulled up his jeans, tucking his beautiful cock away from her view once again.  He was possessive and loved marking her in any way possible, seeing his cum on her beautiful thighs made his cock twitch eagerly. 

He handed Rose her sports bra, gently helping her up. “Something wrong?” He smirked, watching her wobble some as she put her clothes back on. “Chakaar.” She mumbled, Vau chuckled at the Mandalorian woman. 

“Let’s go home and shower.” She kissed him deeply, gripping his ass tightly. He growled against her lips but Rose backed away before he could do anything else. He opened his mouth to speak but Rose shoved her thong in his mouth and walked away, an alluring sway to her hips. 

He shook his head slightly and rushed after her, his pet Strill following happily. 

Tags: @simping-for-fives @leias-left-hair-bun @nelba @mistflyer1102 @detroitbydark @cherry-cokes-world @jedi-mando @tobitofunction @passionofthesith @crimson-dxwn