#they look so cool but also have lots of grip. best of both worlds. and a padded heel that won't murder my ankles.

[hairtusk]

tackling my shopping addiction slowly but surely. returned everything i have bought in the last couple of months that still had a label attached. going to use a little chunk of those funds to buy some new doc martens for the winter (the pair i've worn for the past 6 winters no longer have any grip </3) which is the only purchase i actually need to make. then i'm done buying. on a real spending ban.

[livingformintyoongi]

can i request yoongi fucking his gf in his hoodie. first he will cuddle with her in the kitchen while leaving kisses on her neck and then he will slowly become horny and at one point he will say 'I want to fuck you while you are wearing my hoodie' (you can choose for yourself whether rough or soft sex, also let it be in the first person, but if it can't, it's fine, thank you in advance, sorry for my eng )

— myg’s butterfly 🦋

Hoodie

a/n: First of all, sorry for taking so long, it took me so long to start the request because I wasn't sure how to start it :( I hope it went as you expected. Second, I totally loved the idea, it was so cute and so similar to the kind of relationship my oc and Yoongi have that it was just perfect AH-. I decided to go more for something a bit soft and with a joke or two in between, hope you don't mind. I tried to do it with first person, but no matter how hard I tried I just couldn't end up liking how it turned out, sorry :c. And third, don't worry about your English! It was perfectly understood ^^. wc: 3.1k warnings: MDNI, unprotected sex, hair pulling, kitchen sex, (very) slight dry humping, fingering, breeding. taglist: @thunderg @minjianhyung @queenv1997 @yoongtism @lizzymizzy-blogg @superbbananananana @drpepperobsessed @themwordsblog @taekritimin123 @bluecloudss

"What are you doing?" whispered Yoongi, hugging your waist from behind. His large, soft hands moved lazily underneath the hoodie you were wearing, allowing himself to caress your bare waist. He smiled as he felt you shiver at the cool touch of his fingers.

"I was craving something yummy and it was too late to order anything, so I decided to, you know, do it by myself," you chuckled as you felt your boyfriend's nose brush against your neck, by this point it was almost an impulse to lean against him every time he did that, "Did you finish the song?"

"I'm still not entirely sold on it, I thought I'd better take a break to see if it would spark something new" he kissed your shoulder softly, pulling you even closer to his body. You felt so warm against him, he loved that feeling, loved how you could make him feel with your simple presence. 

"That's actually a great idea, try to rest that poor brain of yours, I'm more than sure it must be tired from so much you make it think about work" you turned off the stove, turning around so you could hug his waist. You watched as Yoongi lowered his gaze to the hoodie you were wearing. His eyebrows rose as soon as he met your gaze again.

"Isn't that mine?" he asked teasingly, pulling you closer to him around the waist. Now both of your noses were rubbing together, neither could look into anything but the other's eyes. He closed his as he felt your arms go from around his waist to hugging his neck, the soft brush of your nose against his making him sigh.

"Yoonie, it's time for you to understand that there is no longer something 'yours' or 'mine', but something 'ours', your stuff belongs to me, and my stuff belongs to you" you laughed, leaving a kiss on his nose. 

"I see, I guess I forgot that little detail" he rolled his eyes, the smile on his lips still shining brightly, how was it possible that this beautiful man was in your kitchen, hugging you tightly, looking at you as if you were the best thing in this world? Even you didn't quite understand, but you would never complain about it. 

"Don't worry, that's what I'm here for" you winked playfully at him, running your hands through his dark hair. It still felt a little damp from the shower he had taken a few hours ago. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to finish this" you pointed to the food behind you, you hadn't started long ago, so you still had a lot left to do before you could serve the food. 

"Oh right, you were cooking" he mumbled, still keeping his grip on you, "you can cook with me on your back".

"Was that a question or a statement?" you shook your head, turning around, still not being let go by Yoongi. You felt his chin rest on your shoulder, his gaze fixed on the vegetables resting on the pan.

"It's a statement, I don't plan to let go of you." 

You couldn't help but smile big hearing him say that. Yoongi was not a cold person to you, in fact, he was quite sweet. He was always attentive to everything you did and said, he kissed your knuckles every time there was a red light at the traffic light, he caressed your thigh every time you watched something on TV, sometimes he even gave you chaste kisses in public. However, he was rarely this cloyingly sweet, he had to be too drunk or sleepy to cling to you in this way, so of course you were going to let him regale you in this way without saying anything to him.

You had Yoongi on your back for at least ten minutes and, although at first it seemed normal for him to give you the occasional kiss on your neck, by this point you were beginning to doubt his intentions, why on earth would he be practically biting and sucking on your neck while pressing himself against you? That's not just a simple token of affection anymore.

"Uhm, Yoongi, what are you doing?" you asked in the middle of a gasp, feeling his teeth clench the sensitive skin of your neck, sending an electric current around your entire body. He knew what he was doing, and he knew even better the effect it would have on you.

"Giving my girlfriend affection, isn't it obvious?" he replied teasingly, still torturing your neck which, after all the time he spent biting and sucking, was starting to get redder and redder. 

"I know you well enough to know you're not doing this just because you want to give me affection" you bit the inside of your lip as you felt his hand wrap around one of your breasts. You were used to not wearing a bra at home, it was so much more comfortable and hurt so much less, but sometimes you forgot how much Yoongi took advantage of that to tease you like this.

"Is it wrong that I want to fuck my beautiful girlfriend while she's wearing my hoodie?" he whispered against the shell of your ear, barely biting down on a patch of skin, tugging on it gently. 

"I mean, it's not bad, but I'm busy and..." you had to bite your tongue to keep from moaning as you felt his cock slap against your thigh. Yes, he was excited and it was very hard not to notice, and it was starting to get even harder not to want to help him with that little - big - problem he was starting to have.

"It can wait a little longer, besides it's almost ready, isn't it? We won't be long, I promise" he went back to lazily massaging your breasts, his mouth still moving from one shoulder to the other, leaving little marks here and there, smiling every time he saw one pop up.

You were beginning to entertain the idea of accepting his idea. He wasn't so wrong, in fact you were nowhere near the end of cooking, a few more minutes of waiting wouldn't hurt anyone, would it?

"I hope you're telling the truth when you say it'll be quick" you muttered, turning off the stove with slightly shaking hands. No matter how long you had been by his side, the effect he had on you never changed, and you doubted it would in the future.

You squealed as you felt Yoongi's hands wrap around your waist tightly, lifting you off the floor and taking you straight to your kitchen counter, "Hey! You know I don't like doing it here, you'll mess up my-" you didn't get to finish and his lips were already on yours, his hands firmly but gently firming your neck so he could pull you even closer to him. You felt his tongue brush against your inner lip and, almost a second later, you allowed him free access to your mouth. His free hand lingered on your hip, giving it casual squeezes every so often, burying his short nails in the black fabric of his hoodie that perfectly covered that part of your body.

You moaned against his lips as you felt that same hand force you to crawl across the countertop until you bumped roughly against his own hips, generating friction between the two of you. He gladly swallowed every gasp you let out as the clash between the two of you grew louder and more precise.

"Yoongi" you gasped against his lips, clinging to his shoulders as if your life depended on it. His lips trailed down to your jaw, leaving a trail of small but sticky kisses all along your neck and shoulders. His hands fiddled with the soft fabric of the hoodie you were wearing, internally debating whether or not it was worth taking it off. He looked up. Your lips moist and swollen from the kissing session they had just had, your pupils were so dilated he could barely make out your irises, your freckled cheeks slightly flushed, spreading that color all the way to the tips of your ears, how could he resist that sight? How could he resist you?

"Fuck, you're so beautiful" he murmured, leaning back on the countertop, your hips still completely glued to his. "So fucking beautiful, I can't even take in the fact that you're mine."

You were a little groggy from the heat of the moment, so it took a little while for your brain to fully assimilate what he had just said. You felt the heat rise in your face, spreading quickly to your neck and ears. If you felt hot before, now you were boiling hot.

Yoongi wasn't too aware of your face, his eyes were fixed on how smooth the skin of your bare thighs looked. He licked his lips and lifted the hoodie up to above your hips, smiling at the sight of the underwear you were wearing. 

"Really, you wore one with hearts on it?" he chuckled, settling between your legs. His laughter became much louder after he felt you close your legs tightly around his head in protest.

"Shut the fuck up, it's just underwear, besides, it's not like I can guess when you're in the mood to fuck or not enough to put something nice on underneath, you know?" you rested one of your hands on her hair, tangling your fingers in it.

"I didn't say it was anything bad, don't get defensive either, honey" he murmured, smirking arrogantly at the sight of your already damp underwear, "I guess I wasn't the only one waiting for this, huh? Just look at this, so wet just from some light kissing and rubbing?" he moved his face closer to your center, brushing his fingers against your clit. He raised his eyebrows at the way you squirmed almost immediately at his touch. "We seem to be sensitive today."

You pursed your lips at his remark, you didn't like at all to accept the fact that you were much more sensitive than usual, but you couldn't deny it either, it was too obvious a thing to do. 

Both you and Yoongi moaned the moment he put his tongue on you, licking your wetness over your underwear. You clung to his locks of hair, letting your head fall back. The contact may not have been direct, but that didn't detract from how fucking good it felt to have his tongue on your clothed pussy. 

"Shit" you moaned haltingly, watching as Yoongi gave little cat licks around your hole only to return to your clit, suck on it, and repeat all over again. You wrapped your legs around his neck, wanting and needing to hold him closer.

"You taste so sweet" he sighed against the damp fabric, teasing your core even more because of the warm air crashing against your center. He pushed aside your underwear, bringing his fingers closer just so he could spread it wide open. Your clit was already quite swollen and your pussy looked so shiny, so tight. He could see from where he stood how it shrank into nothingness. He swallowed saliva as he imagined it would be his cock that you would be squeezing like that very soon. 

He straightened in place, looking intently at your figure. Mostly was wrapped in his hoodie, but there was something about the way it fit you that turned him on in such a way that his cock was barely resisting the pressure of his pants. 

He leaned over your body, one of his hands stopped on your hip and the other between your legs. Two of his fingers entered your pussy, stretching and ramming it as he pleased. You brought his face close to yours, kissing it carelessly. You moaned as you tasted your taste on his tongue, his teeth clashing with yours and his hands moving in a rhythm that made you shudder with each thrust. You loved it when your boyfriend was this excited.

"Yoongi, I need- Oh, god" you closed your eyes tightly as you felt his long fingers crash hard against your G-spot. You weren't even sure how you didn't cry out at the contact, "Could you put it in, like, now?".

He laughed softly, hitting your sensitive spot a couple more times, smiling as he listened to your moans covered in groans and gasps, "So desperate..." he pulled down the hoodie you were wearing a little, just enough to bring part of your breasts into view. He reached down to your chest, leaving a rather noticeable mark on the spot and, only then, pulled his fingers out from inside you. "Here, suck" you looked down, noticing how Yoongi extended the fingers he just pulled out from inside you in the direction of your mouth. He stared at you with those deep, dark eyes that he knew you could never refuse anything. 

Yoongi smirked at the sight of you as you slipped his fingers into your mouth, licking them animatedly. You held his wrist with one of your hands, hoping that would somehow make your job a little easier. He wouldn't let you stop until all your essence was gone from his fingers and, only then, would he fuck you. You knew his ways well.

"Ah, you are so obedient" he smiled with his eyes fixed on your lips wrapping his fingers. His free hand rested on your head, gently patting it. Almost instantly he tangled his fingers in your hair and tugged on it, pulling your mouth away from his fingers. He unbuttoned his pants, his gaze fixed on how your lips were held ajar. How he loved how beautifully delicious your lips looked. 

It didn't take him long to get his cock free, just as it didn't take him long to line it up with your entrance and tease it with little thrusts against your hole, barely pressing your clit with his head. He let out a chuckle as he noticed your frown.

"Stop teasing, you promised it would be quick." 

"You're right, sorry, sorry" he laughed softly, leaving a gentle kiss against your lips as he lined his cock back up with your entrance, "Do you feel ready?".

"Yes" you answered much faster than you'd like to admit, but by this point it didn't even matter anymore. You were desperate, but so was he, so what did it matter? 

"Good" he murmured, thrusting his cock inside you in one thrust. You had to hold your breath to keep from screaming. "Fuck, babe, you're so tight" he took a breath of air, holding onto your waist to keep a little control of his movements. 

"Yoongi" you gasped, clinging to his shoulders, hiding your face in his neck. You felt so full with him inside you, you could feel him everywhere, with every fiber of your being. 

He licked his lips, clinging to your waist as he began his onslaught. Normally he would start at a much faster pace, but this time you felt so tight that he didn't think he would be able to move without cumming in the attempt. 

You took advantage of your position to kiss and mark the exposed skin left by Yoongi's shirt, leaving hickeys and nibbles along his shoulders. Yoongi, for his part, was beginning to quicken his pace, each thrust feeling deeper than the last, harder than the last. It was almost impossible to hold back your screams.

"It feels good, so good" you whispered between gasps, resting your head on the countertop, closing your eyes to feel his movements more intensely. Slowly the knot in your lower belly was starting to become more noticeable, and your body, responding to that intense feeling, started to move against Yoongi's, needing to reach that long awaited release that made you see stars every single time.

"I know, fuck, I know" he rested his forehead against your shoulder, grinding his hips against yours in desperation. He was in the same situation as you, and that he was moving you against him at the same time he was ramming your pussy didn't help his situation much. He bit his lower lip lightly, bringing one of his hands to your womanhood, using his fingers to tease your clit.

Your whole body trembled against the countertop at his touch, the knot getting tighter and tighter, preventing you from thinking clearly. It didn't help much that Yoongi had found your G-spot again, using that to his advantage to bring you even closer to your climax.

"Yoongi, I don't... I can't... it's too much" you struggled a bit to formulate the sentence properly, each word ending up coming out as a moan, but Yoongi seemed to have understood you, or so you thought as he leaned against your chest, kissing you deeply while grinding his hips against yours desperately. 

Almost instantly you shuddered against his body, feeling a rush of excitement run through you as the knot in your stomach unraveled and your longed-for release had finally arrived. 

Yoongi soon followed, thrusting hard and long as he let his seed fill your insides. 

You both stood for a moment in silence. Yoongi's face remained hidden in your neck, kissing your skin from time to time; you, for your part, kept looking up at your kitchen ceiling, trying to regulate your breathing. It wasn't until you both calmed down that one of you opened your mouth to break the silence.

"You're going to clean my kitchen, and you're going to do it as soon as I can feel my legs again" you muttered, trying to sound as serious as possible. You were sure it didn't work after you heard him laugh over your shoulder.

"It's okay, I'll clean up" he mumbled with a smile, lifting his face to come face to face with you. "One last kiss before I have to clean up this mess?".

You smiled at his request, cupping his cheeks in your hands so you could pull him close to you and leave a soft, lingering kiss on his lips. "Better?"

"Much better" he nodded with his gummy smile, kissing your cheek sonorously. "Now, Miss Y/L/N, I need to get this over with before my girlfriend catches me."

You rolled your eyes in amusement, watching as Yoongi emerged from inside you, arranging both of your clothes and helping you down from the counter, "I'll wait for you in bed, I found a movie I'm sure you'll love."

"I'll be there" he whispered with a smile, giving you one last kiss before focusing entirely on cleaning your kitchen.

Masterlist.

[httpiastri]

dating paul would include... ᰔᩚ

traveling during the breaks

obviously, if you date paul, you have to go on vacations with him. we've all seen his vacation pics from the summer (and winter) breaks, the pink swimming trunks and the linen shirts showing off his chest and shoulder muscles so beautifully. but not only are vacations with him great because you have the world's best piece of eye candy with you; you'd also have a blast with him.

going on vacation with paul means traveling around italy on a vespa, him driving you around as your arms are wrapped around his torso. the way your grip tightens and the sound of your squeals when he speeds up makes him bubbly, and if he feels stable enough, he places one of his hands on top of yours as he drives, fingers intertwining with yours.

it means you both deciding that your personal mission on the trip is to find the best pizza and pasta in the country, traveling around to different cities to experience and rank the restaurants with the highest ratings on the internet. it means midnight pizza runs to that place in the city that's open 24/7, forcing paul to taste the hawaiian slice you ordered despite how much he whines about pineapple not belonging on pizza. and it means visits to romantic little restaurants, not being able to say no to him when he suggests doing the 'lady and the tramp'-move with the spaghetti, both of you giggling until you're almost thrown out after accidentally bumping noses.

it means spending a lot of time at the beach, going swimming and sunbathing and just relaxing together. you cheer him on when he does his flips from cliffs and bridges, mostly watching from afar, but he always finds some way to trick you into coming up to the cliff with him – and then he always pulls you in with him. but you also go to the beach at night, walking barefoot along the shoreline and feeling the warm sand between your toes. you look at the stars together, his hand on your waist squeezing you close to him and his fingers drawing random figures into your skin as you point out the constellations to him. his lips pressing against your forehead as he hums, nodding along to whatever you're saying, is a confirmation that he's listening – even when he's more focused on your pretty lips and soft skin.

taking care of you

paul is very caring. he often comes off as cool and casual to other people, but the soft spot in his heart for you makes paul act a bit differently with you. whenever he's around you, he wants to make sure you know that you're the most important thing to him. he listens well, gives you advice when you come to him with issues, and he takes care of you in every way he can think of.

he's attentive, and after having known you for many years now, he knows what every subtle little sign of yours means. he can tell when you're only pretending to be happy, when you're uncomfortable, when you need something; he can read you like an open book. therefore, it doesn't come as a big surprise when he notices how quickly you're getting drunk on one night out.

it starts off lightly, with you sipping slowly on some kind of fruity drink while chatting off with dino's girlfriend, growing more relaxed for every passing minute. paul notices instantly, but he lets it slide – you're in a club, after all, and you're all there to drink. the drinks turn into shots, and the chats turn into showing off your moves on the dance floor, while paul merely sits at your table and watches you with a big grin on his face. through the night, he keeps ordering glasses of water that he helps you down in-between your drinks. but despite his services, it doesn't take too long before you get a little too 'tipsy', walking up to him with wobbly legs and such a soft expression on your face.

"paulie!" you exclaim as you come up to stand next to where he's sitting. he notices instantly – you only call him that when you're drunk. "did you see my moves?"

paul nods, a little smile taking over his lips. "you were great." one of his hands reach up to your waist, pulling you a little closer. "how are you feeling?"

"lovely!" you turn your head to the side, looking out on the dance floor again. "i think i'm going to go back, it's so much fun, you should come with me, we can dance and-"

the sound of a chuckle leaving his mouth makes you stop in your ramble, eyes darting back at him instantly. "i think we should go now, actually."

"go where?"

"to your apartment. or mine, or-"

"why?"

paul shakes his head, grinning from ear to ear. "because you're drunk, sweetheart."

you frown – you're having so much fun, why leave now? "that makes no sense."

"maybe it does, maybe it doesn't." paul places his other hand on your waist too, and his hands squeeze your sides. "let me take you home and take care of you. please?"

you cross your arms over your chest, huffing. "what's in it for me?"

"well," he snickers. "i'll give you as many kisses as you want. and i'll help you with your skincare." the way his fingers dance up and down your ribs tickles, and the tingling sensation is so immense you can't hold back a smile. "i'll even massage your feet, since they must be dead after dancing so much in those shoes."

you can't hold up the sulky act anymore, so you take his hands in yours and nod. "only if you give me a kiss now, too. just so i know what i can expect."

a laugh bubbles from his chest as he stares at you in complete adoration. he lets you pull him up so he's standing, before he engulfs your face in his hands and gives you a sweet smooch.

paul is a good man, so he keeps his promises. when you fall asleep in the cab, all worn out from dancing, he carries you carefully up to his apartment and makes sure not to wake you up, before tucking you in between the sheets. he gets a makeup wipe from the bathroom – it's better than nothing, he thinks – trying his best to be as detailed in his cleaning yet not rough enough to wake you up. he massages your feet for a few minutes, hoping that it'll make some difference in the morning. and even if you're not conscious enough to remember it, he does give you tons of kisses. on your forehead, your cheeks, your temple, the corner of your lips.

paul is a caring, lovestruck fool, and his soft heart beats only for you.

race rituals

surprisingly enough, paul likes to be structured and have the same schedule & rituals before a race. he may seem like someone who doesn't care, someone who's extremely easy-going, but it's the rituals before he even gets to the track that let him be carefree.

on media days and the fridays of the weekends, a lot of people assume he's got a devil-may-care kind of attitude. he's often spotted joking around with dino, throwing american footballs with karl, or just chilling on the floor of the prema truck. on the earlier parts of the week, he eases up – but the moment he sits down in the car before quali on friday, he switches his focus. he's completely and fully zoned in for the racing.

when he's done with qualifying, the first thing he needs is to have his debrief with his trainers. depending on the result of the session, the debrief can be lighthearted or serious, but the driving always needs to be discussed. then he needs to confirm tomorrow's schedule, to make sure it's all set and ready to go. and lastly, he needs to talk to you.

you always find some secluded corner of the paddock, sitting together on the floor with one of his arms draped around your shoulders. you don't need to talk about the qualifying itself; if it's gone badly, he'll ask you what you've done all day, what you had for lunch, and which drivers you've seen around the paddock. but if it's gone well, he won't shut up about it. he'll tell you about all of the corners he got the most out of, what parts of the track he could've improved in, and how he felt when his trainers praised him on the radio. all this while you're holding his free hand, playing with his fingers and resting your head against his chest, feeling his heartbeats all the way in to your own heart.

he has a routine for the mornings before races, too. they all start in the hotel room after he wakes up. first, he brushes his teeth. then, he needs to make sure all of his necessities are packed; race suit, shoes, gloves, anything else he might need. then, he always has the same breakfast.

all steps of his routine are important, but his most important ritual is the one that includes you.

the one thing he needs the most right before he leaves through the hotel room door is a hug from you. he needs you to hold him tight, press your lips to his cheek, and whisper to him that he'll do well. he needs you to assure him that no matter what, you're there for him and you believe in him. with your trust, he can do anything.

post-season comfort

paul desperately needed encouragement.

after spa, and especially after the season finale in monza, things felt extra rough for him. it was hard for him to recover from the fact that everything had slipped through his fingers. sure, he put on a big smile when congratulating gabriel and zak for p1 and p2 in the championship, and he was genuinely happy that prema won the teams championship. but he couldn't help but to feel... sour. he believed that he deserved that win, or at least the second place. if only he hadn't been so unlucky...

you see right through him, of course. no matter how hard he pretends that he's fine, that it doesn't matter and that he's fine with third place in the championship, you don't believe it. you know him, and you'd do anything to help take his mind off things, to get him to stop overthinking it.

post-season means a lot of sessions in the gym and even more time spent on the sim, preparing for everything that's to come and trying to work on the weaknesses that showed this past season. it's very physically demanding, and in combination with the disappointment from his championship standings, it leaves him exhausted most of the time.

but whenever he's free, you see it as your duty to take him away from it all. the stress, the racing, the pressure. you know that deep down, he does love it; racing is his life for a reason. but you also see how worn out he is, how his smile doesn't really meet his eyes anymore, how persistent the bags under his eyes are. sometimes, the emotions can be too much, and you love to help him out even just a little.

so, every day off, you plan something for him. you go rock climbing, swimming, stargazing. you go on road trips to nearby cities, sightseeing and pretending to be tourists even in areas you've been to hundreds of times. you drag him along to the spa to get massages and to just relax, and he ends up being the one who refuses to leave, despite how he groaned about not wanting to go beforehand. you even take him to race in go-karts, to show him that racing still can be fun and that it doesn't always need to be super competitive (because you threaten him and say that if he speeds away from you in the first straight, there's no way he's getting any kisses, so he has to pretend like he's slow).

it's not like paul doesn't understand what you're doing; he's fully aware of your plans, and he finds them completely adorable. one night, as you're about to part after a romantic dinner date, he stops you on your porch just as you're about to go into your home.

he wraps you in his arms, hugging you close as a deep sigh leaves his chest. he relaxes, his whole body just melting into you as he nuzzles his face into the side of your neck. "thank you," he whispers, his words tickling your skin and his lips brushing the space behind the back of your ear. "i really needed this."

maybe you're reading too much into it, but you know there's so much hiding behind those words. it's not often that he opens up about racing, so you're grateful for every little moment of it, even if it's minimal. "you deserve the world", you tell him, because it’s true. to you, he’s the most precious thing in the world. and by the way he smiles at you, eyes filled with so much gratitude and so much love, you can tell he feels the same way about you.

oscar piastri version ll ollie bearman version ll f2/f3 masterlist

author's note: very long overdue lol. just like the oscar smut rotting away in my drafts. anyway, i miss paul so much it hurts. looking at old gifs of him and just crying. hope u have a good day too <3

[raya-hunter01]

Not My Sister's Keeper Pt. 8

Roman X OC(Kara)

Jey Uso X OC (Tia)

Rating: 18+

Warning: Smut; sex, fluff, couple arguing, Jealousy, infidelity, pregnancy

Roamn’s wife recently left medical school and returned home to save her marriage. Upon her return, she finds out things are not what they seem. Her sister is pregnant by her best friend Jey Uso, who is also Roman’s cousin, and her husband is acting suspicious.

What happens when a conversation overhead on a baby monitor blows her world apart?

Boston Medical Center

Two Weeks Later

Kara’s POV

“Kara, you gotta eat baby,” my mom pleaded as I sighed taking another bite of the soup she was feeding me.

“I just hate ya’ll gotta do all of this stuff for me,” I said feeling just discouraged and helpless.

“Don’t do that, what I told you last night?” Jey asked reaching over and wiping my tears.

“To let ya’ll help me,” I whispered as he took the food from my mom.

“Ma, gon’ check on the other one, I know you’re worried about her. I got Kara,” he said as my mom looked guilty.

“I wouldn’t make it back in time before visiting hours is over.”

“Mama, it’s ok go check on her,” I said as she sighed reaching over and giving me a hug.

“I’ll be back in the morning, they are going to transfer her from the jail to the hospital, I don’t want her to be alone,” she said as I nodded putting her mind at ease.

Even though deep down I wanted her to stay in jail not getting transferred to hospital for mental evaluation.

As soon as the door closed Jey and I shared a knowing look.

“A’ight gon’ let it out,” he said as I shook my head.

“What good would that do?”

“It may would help you feel better, you’ve been through a lot you need to talk Kara,” Jey said as I thought about how to even put into words how I felt.

“My sister almost killed me, and laughed over my body. I’ll never be ok with her Jey, and I don’t think mama can handle that.”

“Kara it ain’t for her to handle, I would be worried as fuck if you could be cool with everything that happened.”

“She’s going to try to get me to not press charges, I just know it,” I whispered as Jey sighed.

“I figured as much you’re both her daughters and she loves you both,” He said as I looked down at my chest.

“I stabbed her Jey, like I didn’t even second guess it-”

“Kara, she shot you, and was trying to kill you. I think anybody can understand that.”

“The lawyer said I would have to testify and so would Roman and Trin. I just want it to be done and over with,” I said as Jey sat down the bowl of soup.

“Trin is game if you are and even though I ain’t talked to Roman I know he will testify too. She can’t get away with this Kara. It’s gotta stop before someone gets killed. And I’ll be damned if that’s you,” he said as I burst into tears.

“I know,” I cried as Jey maneuvered himself in the bed carefully pulling me in his arms as I cried.

“We gon’ get through this…I promise you,” Jey whispered, and I prayed he was right.

-----

One Month Later

Boston Municipal Courthouse

 Jey’s POV

This has been a straight shit show. Tia is really up in here on the stand painting a picture of Kara betraying her. I am just confused as shit right now as is everyone else.

“Ms. Morris what was going through your mind as you held your sister and you boyfriend hostage?”

“Boyfriend?” Trin whispered as I felt Kara’s grip on my hand tighten as she listed to Tia serve up her lies.

“All I could think about is that I had just got suspended and I just wanted to talk to my sister.  I go to her house and there is my boyfriend I couldn’t believe they were hooking up behind my back,” she said as Kara leaned on her knees.

“Is she serious right now?” Kara whispered as Tia began crying. “I saw he had sent her flowers and I just lost it. We were arguing and before I knew it, I pulled out the gun and it went off by accident.”

I put my hand on Kara’s knee as I saw the pool of tears in her eyes. “She’s lying and they’re believing her,” she whispered looking at the jury trying to not lose it.

I couldn’t believe myself when I saw a juror crying.

“Kara, it gon’ be ok,” I whispered as she shook her head in disbelief as Tia spun a new web of lies trying to save her own ass.

“No, it’s not. It’s hopeless,” Kara whispered getting up and going out of the courtroom as I got up to follow her.

“Kara, ya’ll are going to have your time up there, and it will work out, I said catching up to her. “Why are we here?” Kara asked, the look on her face breaking my heart.

“To get justice and you will get it, I promise,” I said seeing Trin coming out with Jimmy, Roman and a few other people.

“They are doing a twenty-minute recess and then I’m up,” Roman said as I rubbed Kara’s arms trying to get her to calm down.

“Did all that really just happen?” she asked as I saw her wince in pain.

“Look sit down you’re still hurt and trying to do too much,” I fussed as I saw Roman cut his eyes at me.

“Kara, we go up there, tell the truth and everything will work out,” Roman said as Kara took a deep breath and laid her head on my shoulder.

“I hope so,” she whispered rubbing her chest as Roman looked at me with worry.

“Jey, can I talk to you for a minute?” Roman asked as I reluctantly agreed as Jimmy switched places with me and sat next to Kara.

I didn’t know what he wanted but it must have been important for him to want to talk about it now at all places.

“I need to tell you what I’mma talk about up there,” he said as I stopped him.

“Kara already told me you were in the house when she got there. She told me ya’ll argued about me, the keys, her pulling a knife on you . She told me everything,” I said as Roman sighed in relief.

“I didn’t know if she had told you, so much has been going on. I just didn't want you to be blindsided,” Roman said as I nodded in understanding.

“Jey, I’m trying my hardest here to make it right,” Roman said as I sighed. “I know I got a long way to go, and things will never be the same, but I want us to at least be able to be cordial to each other if I see you at family functions.”

“I know, I just don’t think nobody will be able to move on until Tia is gone,” I said as we saw people heading back in the court room.

“Then let’s make it happen..Kara and Logan’s safety  are the top priority,” Roman said as I silently agreed as we went back to join the others.

The tension in the court room was so thick as Roman was sworn in. Tia looked so calm it was almost scary.

“So, Mr. Reigns on the night in question why you at were your ex-wife’s house?”

“Objection your honor, why Mr. reigns was there has nothing to do with this case. This case is about Ms. Morris showing up there and holding them hostage and almost killing her sister along with Mr. reigns and Mrs. Fatu who was almost shot at.”

“Sustained, Ms. Morris stated she showed up and her boyfriend was there, so continue counselor." The judge said as I frowned at him.

“Oh my god,” Kara whispered as Trin slid over and put her arm around Kara as I grasped her hand.

“We got you,” she whispered as Kara sighed, looking at Roman

“I had saw my ex-wife on a video my cousin had posted. I was upset so I flew to see her, went in her home to wait for her and we argued about it when she got home,” Roman said with remorse.

“Mr. Reigns how did your wife- ….I’m sorry ex wife-”

“Council stop badgering the witness,” the judge said seeing how uncomfortable Roman was at the lawyer taunting him.

“I’m sorry your honor…Mr. Reigns how did Ms. Morris finally get you to agree to leave?” the lawyer asked as Roman looked over at Kara then back at the lawyer nervously.

“Uh, I wouldn’t leave after she continuously asked, Kara did what made her feel safe. I don’t blame her, I was kinda out of control,” Roman said as Kara wiped her tears.

“That’s not what I asked you Mr. Reigns, what did she do?” The lawyer pressed.

Kara’s POV

This man is really up here trying to say I’m the aggressor. Roman looked at me and I gave him a small smile letting him know I was ok and to tell the truth.

“I’ll ask you ag-”

“I don’t need you to ask again, I wouldn’t leave so Kara pulled out a knife and told me to leave. I apologized and went to le-”

“So, what you saying is she was already angry and willing to hurt someone, maybe even kill them in her hysterics. I mean she almost killed her own sister,” the lawyer said as I looked over at my mom who was crying.

“Objection your honor how is the victim on trial?!”

“Sustained, answer the question Mr. Reigns.”

“This motherfucker,” I heard Jimmy hiss as I felt Jey calmy caressing my hand.

“Kara, was upset and hurt. I wouldn’t leave, and even though I put her through hell, do you know what she did?

“I’m sure you will enlighten us Mr. Reigns,” the defense lawyer said smartly as I saw Tia smirk.

“I damn sure will, when she had a chance to run, she stopped and came back when Tia threatened to kill me. She asked Kara did she want to be the reason my daughter wouldn’t have a father,” Roman said as getting choked up.

“You monster, you tried to kill my baby!” Ms. Janice yelled standing up as the judge began beating his gavel.

“Order in the court! Order in the court!”

“I can’t believe ya’ll are putting people through this! She did it and needs to be in jail!” Janice screamed as Jimmy was trying to get her to calm down seeing two bailors coming towards us.  

“Come on auntie, let’s go take a walk,” he whispered leading her out the courtroom as she cried against him.

 The judge seemed conflicted if he should continue, or not as Roman stood up wanting to go after his mom.’

“Are you ok to continue Mr. Reigns?” the judge asked as he nodded sitting back down.

“Um, your honor it has already been a long day can we reconvene tomorrow?” the state attorney said as Roman seemed happy about the suggestion

“Yes, reconvene tomorrow at 9 a.m.,” the judge said as Roman came down and went to check on his mom.

“Ya’ll this is going to be an uphill battle, she’s spinning everything,” Mr. Reiner said as we walked out.

“It’s hopeless,” I said as my mom walked over making me look at her.

“Baby, its gonna be alright,” she said giving me a hug as I tried to hold it together.

As I saw Roman talking to his mom, he seemed relieved as she nodded, and they hugged.

“What they so happy about? That was a disaster in there,” Trin said as they walked towards us.

“Are you ok? You acting real happy all of a sudden,” I said as Roman hugged me, as I saw Jey tense up for a second before I saw his body relax.

“Uce, do you remember when I met ya’ll to sign the papers for the house and Kara was talking about getting used to being alone in the city again?” Roman asked as Jey rubbed his beard.

“Uh, yea, I remember,” Jey said still not following and neither was I. “What did you suggest she get?” Roman asked as it then clicked for Jey.

“Ring cameras,” Jey whispered as Roman nodded.

“Yes, ring cameras…Now please tell me ya’ll got them,” Roman pleaded as I nodded.

“Yea, Jey and Jimmy started doing them, but they had only got to the living room and kit-”

“Oh my god, ya’ll got everything on video,” Trin whispered as Mr. Reiner seemed to perk up at the new information.

“How do you retrieve the footage, Kara?” he asked, knowing I didn’t live in that house anymore.

“When I used It, it would automatically save to my iCloud and the ring camera app. When I was out and about, I could look at footage from inside the house,” I said opened the app and going back to the date before giving it to Mr. Reiner as he turned off the sound and began fast forwarding through the footage from that day.

“Can we use it?” Jey asked as but he didn’t say anything for a few minutes.

 “Kara, Roman, and Trinity come with me please,” he said pausing the video on my phone as I looked at Jey, panicking. “I’ll be right here waiting,” he said as I nodded following behind Trin and Roman.

“Can I help you Mr. Reiner?” the clerk asked as he smiled. “Yes, I need to see Judge Kendell in his chambers this is important. I have new evidence this has come to light, and it is vital to our case,” he said as the clerk got up to see had he left yet.

“Please let him see us,” Trin prayed as I felt like this was too good to be true.

“I can’t believe I didn’t think about that. We could have avoided all this shit,” I hissed as roman grabbed my hands.

“Hey, it’s about to be over…Believe me,” he whispered as I nodded.

“I’m just glad you remembered, because I didn’t even think about it,” I said as he sighed. “It just popped in my head when I was talking to mom and I’m glad it did too,” he said giving me a hug that I actually welcomed this time.

“The judge will see you all now,” the clerk said taking us to his chamber. I felt like I was walking the green mile.

The poor judge looked ill watching the footage, thankfully he didn’t have the sound on, and we didn’t have to see it. I don’t think I would have been able to keep it together.

“I will inform the prosecution of the new developments. You do know this will be played in court tomorrow. Do you all think you can handle that judge Kendall asked as Roman and Trin nodded.

“Ms. Morris what about you?”

“If it gets to be too much, I’ll leave…They have to see it, she can’t get away with this.”

“Ms. Morris, you fought for your life in there that night, and I don’t want you to feel guilty. You had no choice in the matter, and the jury needs to see this,” he said as I nodded in understanding and feeling better knowing he knew the truth.

“Mrs. Fatu, I’ve watched your face throughout this trial, and I’ve seen a lot of this weighing heavy on you. I want you to know that you did the right thing, you ran and got your family help.”

 Reaching over I grabbed her hand in mine as she wiped her tears.

“Told you so,” I whispered, clearing my throat trying not to cry myself as Roman put his arm around us both.

 “I’m sorry we’ve had to put you all through this.” Jude Kendall said sincerely remorseful.

“I’m just glad Roman thought about it and we can set the record straight,” I said he looked at Roamn.

 “You didn’t hesitate to risk your life for these young ladies, its commendable.”

“They’re my family I wasn’t a hard decision,” Roman said as the Judge cracked a smile.

“Mr. Reigns the circus that took place in there today will not happen tomorrow; I promise you.”

“I hope not sir, but I’m just thankful this will be over soon so I can get back to my daughter.”

“I will see you all at 9 am and let’s finish this,” he said standing up shaking all of our hands.

I walked out feeling happy but at the same time unable to really feel it was over until I heard a guilty verdict.

----

Later on that night

Kara’s new house

Jey’s POV

“So, ya’ll didn’t see the footage?” Jimmy asked as Trin shook her head.

“Nah, he said watching it tomorrow was going to be hard enough. He watched and apologized. How’s Kara?”

“I just checked on her..She’s finally asleep.  It was hard on her today,” I said not even wanting to think about the train wreck that was court today.

“I know it was, I couldn’t believe that asshole was trying to paint her as the problem,” Jimmy said as I nodded taking a swig of my beer.

“I wanted to reach over and kill him, like do you know what she been through. What we all been through dealing with that crazy fool?”

“He gets paid to get his clients off, but he ain’t gon’ be able to do shit tomorrow, it’s game over,” Trin said with full of confidence.

“Your right let’s just focus on tomorrow. I don’t even know how Kara is going to react seeing that footage tomorrow. Hell, how are any of us going to react?” I asked, truly not looking forward to watching the video tomorrow.

The lawyer called earlier and told us they had lifted the footage from the app and put it together splicing the view from the living room and kitchen together.

Tomorrow people were going to see everything up until they carried Roman out of the house on a gurney.

The worst moment of our lives was about to be displayed for everyone to see but if that was what needed to be done for Tia to pay then so be it.

-----

The next day

Boston Municipal Courthouse

Kara’s POV

I smiled watching that smile fall from Tia’s face as the judge allowed the evidence to logged in and tagged. They are currently moving the big screen TV to the middle of the courtroom.

“I have to warn you all this is graphic, and does have sound.,” the Judge said as Tia’s lawyer all but jumped out of his chair.

“Your honor, I object this is a witch hunt,” Tia’s lawyer said as the footage was being loaded.

“Sustained…. Counselor your client got on this stand and said her side of the story, now the prosecution is about to present their side of the story and evidence.” He said as Tia’s lawyer sat down placing his hand over the microphone as Tia leaned over talking to him.

She was shaken, that smile was gone now, and I loved it.

“Ms. Morris, Mr. Reigns, and Mrs. Fatu if at any time this gets to be too much you can leave,” the judge said looking at me as I gave him a small smile.

The video started with me walking across the living room with Roman in tow.

I felt the Jey tense as he saw Roman following me into the kitchen.

I felt embarrassed watching myself pulling out a knife on Roman. “God, I look crazy, maybe she was right,” I whispered as Jey shook his head.

“No, you were defending yourself, he wouldn’t leave,” Jey said looking over at Roman who had his head down, refusing to look.

“Kara, we need to talk about Je-”

“I don’t want to talk to you…I want you out!”

Hearing my voice, Iclosed my eyes almost transporting back to that moment as I tried to tune everyone out. But hearing a collective gasp, I looked up to see Tia urging Roman back inside the house and shutting the door with the gun pointed directly at him.

Lie number one exposed…..

“My god, Tia,” my mother whispered in disbelief as the scene played out like a movie in front of us.

“Get back here or I’ll shoot him.. Do you want to be the reason Logan has no father?”

I felt helpless once again, seeing myself this way was fucking with me. My hands in the air begging and pleading for her to calm down as she seemed to love the fear she had instilled in us.

Roman jumping in front of me to protect me.

“You didn’t give us a chance because you wanted her, Roman! You wanted her!..... Jey wanted her!”

I looked at Jey as he frowned looking the footage, but he never let go of my hand. His eyes full of tears.

“Kara, I got your food, twins ran up the street to the store for your ginger ale, and some snacks.”

“Trin Run!!”

“Help! Help us! She has a gun!” Trin hysterical screams fill the courtroom as she leans, over putting her head on my shoulder.

“I can’t do this,” my mother cried getting up, but my dad pulled her back down into her seat. “No, you need to see this, we all do.”

“Run Kara!”

I glanced up at the screen, hearing the first gunshot, my stomach becoming queasy as I looked over and saw Roman getting up to follow his mom, who was unable to stand it anymore.

 She had just saw her son head hit his head on the table as he struggled to get a gun away from a lunatic. His neck snapping back as he collapsed on the ground, unconscious and bleeding profusely from his head.

Who could blame her for wanting to leave?

I was finding people to look at instead of watching the video. I glanced at the jury as soon as I saw the video switch to the view in the kitchen.

I didn’t want to see it…I couldn’t see it.

As another gunshot rang out, I closed my eyes heard my body hit the floor with a thud.  I shifted in my seat trying move, but Jey stopped me, pulling me closer as I looked up at him.  

The ushed tears spilling from his eyes breaking my heart. I felt the walls closing in on me.

My heart dropping  to my stomach as a blood curling scream escaped from my mother’s lips as I stabbed my sister, the swift sound of the blade entering her flesh made me nauseous.

The silent sobs of the jurors making my heart race. I saw many people in the room focused on me, trying to see if I was actually watching the video…They wanted a show, but I wasn’t going to give it to them.

What they didn’t know was that I didn’t have to look at the TV screen to know what was happening.

It was a horrible nightmare etched in my memory, consuming me as I laid in that hospital bed thinking and wondering what I could have done differently.  

The way you could hear a pin drop in the courtroom when the Paramedic screamed, I wasn’t breathing and asking for backup sent chills down my spine.

Hearing Jey’s voice I looked at the screen. There was Jey seemingly in a daze helping the paramedic any way he could.

“She’s dead, Jey,” the joy in Tia voice shocking everyone in the court room. She truly wanted me dead and it ain’t no coming back from that.

Seeing the relief in Jey’s face as I began breathing again as he kissed me on the temple, I couldn’t stop my tears.  

“Kara, its Josh…I love you so much…You hear me I’m here and I ain’t goin’ nowhere,” I couldn’t take it anymore and as calmy as I could, I got up and left, as Jey followed me.

“Kara, stop for a second,” he pleaded as I tried to find a quiet place, finally going into an empty stairwell away from prying eyes.

“I’m so sorry I did that to you,” I whimpered as Jey made me stop walking and wrapped me up in his arms, burying his head in my neck.

“You ain’t got nothin’ to be sorry for,” his voice breaking as we silently cried together, the reality of what could have happened and did happen hitting us hard.

“I almost lost you and it’s fuckin’ wit me but I can’t even imagine what you feeling after having to see all that. It’s ok to not be ok.”

“I know, it just seemed to hit me all at once,” I whispered pulling away slightly, to look at him.

“We gon’ be ok though Kara, we are almost there,” Jey said as I gave him a tired smile.

“Thanks for being here,” I said as he smiled at me. “I wouldn’t be anywhere else, I got you and we can go back when you ready,” he whispered as I nodded.

After about an hour, we went back in the courtroom sat back down next to Trin and Jimmy.

“You ok? We had gone out to look for you but couldn’t find y’all.”

“Yea, I just had a moment sis, and needed a break. What did we miss?” I asked as she chuckled.

“Girl, the defense was so shook.. They waived calling any of us back up to the stand to be questioned. They know it’s a wrap, they rested and gave a weak ass closing argument and now want to take the original plea deal,” Trin said as rubbing my knee trying to calm my nerves.

“I’m so glad this is about over,” I said as Mr. Reiner stood up.

“Yesterday we heard this sad sob story from Tia Morris on how her sister hurt her by going with her boyfriend. When in actuality, Tia did that betrayal to her sister Kara Morris,” he said talking to the jury, briefly turning around to point at Tara.

Watching their faces, it seemed they were invested in what he was telling them.

“Your honor is this necessary?” Tara’s Lawyer asked as Mr. Reiner smiled.

“Your honor, they brought up this yesterday, so I feel the jury has a right to know how all this started.”

“Sustained…Keep it brief,” Judge Kendall said as Mr. Reiner nodded in understanding.

 “Tara Morris isn’t as innocent as she claims to be.. She sought out her sister’s husband, seduced him, had a child with him and them tried to extort money from him. The child hasn’t had anything to do with its mother really since birth.” He said walking back and forth down the jury box, making sure to look at everyone.

“When Ms. Morris realized Mr. Reigns still loved his wife, and wasn’t going to be with her, she abandoned the child and agreed to sign over her rights to her daughter if Mr. Reigns would give her 50 million dollars.”

“Dirty bitch,” Trin muttered as I sighed shifting in my seat.

“Her sister Kara Morris then moves away to get away from the chaos that is her relationship with her sister, and husband. Gets a divorce, is trying to piece her life back together to only have her home invaded and almost shot and killed by that same sister she left Florida to get away from.”

“Gon’ break dat shit down for’em,” Jimmy said engrossed in what the lawyer was saying. Everyone was and I actually felt a little more at ease.

“Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, who taunts another human being as someone they love lays dying on the cold hard floor?” The dramatic pause in his voice captivating the room.

I’ll tell you who… An animal that’s who, an animal shows no remorse. The tricky part though is when Ms. Morris realized she had to face the consequences of her actions, she cried mental breakdown, and I don’t think that’s the case her at all.”

I felt Jey caressing my leg as I looked at him and he winked. “She’s going down,” he mouthed as I nodded, looking back at my mother who seemed just defeated.

“The video we all saw today clearly shows malice intent and while at times unhinged, Ms. Morris knew what she was doing. Now, I would never say deny someone mental help, but I do believe in actions have consequences and Tia Morris has been terrorizing people with no consequences for her actions.”

I nodded agreeing with him as I saw a few jurors looking at me with a sad smile.

I didn’t want pity. I wanted this to be over. Sensing my discomfort Jey draped his arm around my shoulder pulling me closer, kissing me gently on the temple as I melted into his touch.

“It’s time we do right by Ms. Morris and make sure her attacker takes responsibility for her actions and her disregard for human life. It’s time for Kara to heal so she can move on with her life.”

He was working the room, and everyone was hanging on to his every word.

 “It’s time we do right by Mr. Reigns so he can move on a focus on being a father to his beautiful little girl who needs him so he can move on with his life.”

“Oh, he’s going in for the kill,” Trin whispered as I smiled. “Yea, he is.”

“Ladies and gentlemen, it’s time we do right by Mrs. Fatu so she’s not afraid to walk into her best friend’s home. Give her the comfort of knowing there won’t be a psycho lying in wait trying to kill the people she loves or even kill her.” Mr. Reiner said, his voice trembling as I saw an older lady juror nodding, wiping her tears.

“Damn, man,” Jimmy whispered trying to keep his emotions in check as he looked at Trin. “Hey, I’m ok,” she assured him leaning over giving him a chaste kiss on the lips.

“Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, you have the power to give them all peace of mind so they can finally move forward with their lives… Please make the right decision and thank you all for your time.”

I wanted to jump up and give him a standing ovation, but I had to force myself to sit quietly. Looking over I saw Tia arguing with her lawyer, that cool facade long gone. She was scared.

“Oh, he did that,” Trin said with a small smile.

“Yes, he did.. Now let’s see if the jury can take it on home,” I said as the judge gave them instructions.

As they filed out the room to deliberate, I went and sat by my mom and dad. I had been somewhat avoiding them knowing they were struggling with being there for Tia and me.

They didn’t want either of their children in trouble or hurt.

“Honey, I’m so sorry,” my mom cried as I shook my head at her words.

“Mama, it’s ok…I’m good,” I said as my father gave me a hug. “You did what you had to do,” he whispered as my mom began sobbing.

“What was she thinking?” my mom cried as my dad sighed.

“Rebecca, she wasn’t thinking. She’s so used to getting away with stuff or shifting the blame she thought she was invincible. Now she’s going to have to deal with the consequences,” he said as my mother continued to cry.

“Maybe the time away will do her good and she can get some help she needs,” she said as I tried to share her positive outlook, but I wanted her ass in jail for the rest of her life.

Nothing would never ever be the same again.

As we went to lunch at a local eatery down the street, I tried not to worry but I was so use to Tia finding some way to get out of things I had to be prepared.

“So, when are you going to Mike’s?” Jimmy asked as I chuckled. “I don’t know yet, but he has been sending me ideas of what he could do to cover this,” I said pointing at my chest.

“It’s not that big, so you could easily get like a tiny tattoo,” Jey said knowing I was never really big on tattoos on my body, but I loved them on him.

“Doctor said it would be a few months before I could get a tattoo, I’m still healing. I think I want a little one, but the idea of the pain scares me. I remember your choice words as he did your back tattoo,” I said as he chuckled.

“Man, dat shit hurt, I was questioning my choices,” he said as we laughed.  

“Good choice though, it looks amazing, and I love it. It was really cool to see the process up close,” I said as he blushed.

“Damn, she got twin out her blushin’ n shit,” Jimmy said as Trin slapped him on the shoulder.

“Get out they business, Jurdy.” Trin warned as Jey rolled his eyes at his brother. Hearing my phone buzz on the table, I quickly picked it up.

“Hello, Mr. Reiner,” I said as the table got quiet in anticipation.

“I was just calling to let you know, they’ve reached a verdict. I’ll meet you all back at the courthouse.”

“Um, thank you, we’ll see you there,” I said hanging up, feeling anxious. Damn that was quick as hell.

“What did he say?” Jey asked as I looked at him in disbelief. “They already have reached a verdict, we need to head back to the courthouse,” I said as he smiled at me.

“What we still sittin’ here for then,” he said getting up to go pay the bill.

“Damn, in under an hour! “Jimmy said as Trin smiled at him.

“It’s guilty, I know it is,” she said as I silently prayed it was.

---

Boston Municipal Courthouse

Jey’s POV

“Will the defendant please rise,” the judge said as Tia stood up with her lawyer.

The appointed juror that was nominated to speak began to read the verdict.

“We the jury on the charge of attempted murder in the 1st degree we find the defendant, Tia Morris not guilty.” The collective gasp of disbelief spread throughout the courtroom as Tia smiled.

I wanted to bolt but Jey held me in place. “Just listen,” he pleaded.

“On count two, attempted murder in the second degree, we find the defendant Tia Morris guilty,” the juror said as I collapsed against Jey in relief.

“I got you..I’m right here,” Jey whispered as I tried to keep my tears at bay.

“On the charge of reckless endangerment in the second degree, we find the defendant Tia Morris guilty.” Satisfied murmurs filled the courtroom as I finally felt free, she had been found guilty.

“Was the verdict unanimously reached?” the judge asked as all the jurors answered yes.

“Good, we can begin to talk about the terms of the plea deal.”

Looking at Tia, I knew the theatrics was about to begin. She all of a sudden cried out, and collapsed on the floor as my mother screamed, running over to her with a bailiff.

“Oh, get up, ain’t nobody buying that shit,” Trin said as I shook my head.

“There she goes, always two steps ahead,” I whispered as Jey made me look at him.

“Aye, she can fall out all she wants, it’s a done deal…You hear me, they found her guilty,” he said as I nodded trying not to look over at her.

“Bitch, get yo’ fakin’ ass up off dat floor,” Trin whispered with a hiss as Jimmy shook his head in confusion.

“She really done fell her crazy ass out on these folks’ floor,” he said as Roman looked over at us in just as much shock.

“Leave her alone, she alright..Get up ,Tia,” my father said standing up as my mother scoffed at him.

“She’s hurt Bill.”

“Hurt my ass, more like caught. Tia get up before I come over there,” he ordered as she began to sit up, wiping her tears.

“Yea, that’s what I thought,” my dad said irritated, sitting back down shaking his head.

“Lord have mercy,” Ms. Janice said as Roman shook his head.

“They got her Rebecca, come back over here,” my dad said as my mom looked Tia over quickly and came back to her seat.

“Well, that was rather eventful,” Judge Kendall said looking at Tia as she wept standing next to her lawyer.

“Ms. Morris, your guilty verdict of second degree means some feel you acted in a moment of passion. That tails a 5-to-15-year sentence. Your reckless endangerment charge warrants three to seven years. Now your attorney wants your clean record to be taken into account and I tend to somewhat agree.”

“Thank god," my mother said as I rolled my eyes. I was getting irritated as fuck, as Jey reeled me in with his touch.

“Tia Morris, in taking all that into consideration, and you opting for the original plea deal. Ms. Morris, I hereby sentence you to eight years at the Boston State Women’s prison. Probation eligibility after three years served. Counseling will be provided on a weekly basis,” he said as Tia nodded, wiping her tears.

“Thank you so much your honor,” she whimpered making my skin crawl.

“You’ve been given a second chance Ms. Morris don’t make the court regret it. Also, I’m issuing a no contact order with your sister Kara Morris. When released if you violate the order, you will go back to finish your original 15-year sentence. Do you understand?”

“Yes, your honor I do,” Tia whispered as I nodded taking in the verdict.

“She could be out in three years.”

“Hey, let’s not think about it now,” Jey said as I looked at Tia as she hugged her lawyer.

Justice had been served, but I still felt like things between Tia, and I were a long time from being over.

Could we all really move on with this cloud hanging over our heads?

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[icarusignite]

Hey,

Could you imagine doing an Athelstan x reader. Where the reader is the daughter of Sihtric.

Maybe the reader could be the first child of Sihtric and his first wife (I know he only has one but his wife from the series could be the second). When his wife from the series met him, he left the readers mother and got together with his new wife. Unfortunately, the readers mother died shortly afterwards.

The reader's world collapsed but she still has her best friends Athelstan and Sophia, who is Finan's daughter. (I just like the name Sophia, I hope it's okay that Finan also has a daughter in this story. Of course you can change the name)

It would be cool if sihtric's new wife doesn't like the reader because she looks like her mother.

(So she is almost the evil stepmother, but the siblings are sweet)

Of course, Sihtric loves his daughter the reader more than anything but the reader distances herself because she blames him and his new wife for the fact that her mother is gone. Maybe she could also be jealous that sihtric also spends a lot of time with his other children and his new wife, because normally it was always only her and her father against the rest of the world.

Athelstan and the reader have always had feelings for each other. They didn't want to tell the other because they were afraid to destroy the friendship.

Sophia and the reader are like sisters, the two are inseparable and do everything together. When the reader was getting worse and worse, because she became more angry because of her father and their relationship got worse and worse, Sophia made a suggestion to go away. Sophia and the reader are both shieldmaiden and always wanted to travel over the world and make a name for themselves. Even if it is difficult for both to leave their family and Athelstan behind, they go away. Sophia, of course, finds it difficult to leave her father because she has no problems with him, but for the reader she would do it.

When the fight for Bebbanburg takes place after years and Sophia and the reader hear about it, they come to help. The two have a great army. The warriors and shieldmaiden wanted to follow them because they were impressed by their fighting skills.

In the end, there might be a conversation between the reader and Sihtric and that she tells him how she feels. And of course, Athelstan and the reader confess their feelings to each other, which became even stronger than they were not together.

I'm sorry it's so long but I wanted to write down all sorts of thoughts I hope you like it.

Your reader

Go ahead and cry, little girl

A/N: Heyyyyy, I am back from the dead. I am SUPER sorry for the massive delay. I've just been off Tumblr for a bit, but I am back. This is quite possibly the longest oneshot I've written so far lol. The Aethelstan bit doesn't quite start until the end but I do like how it turned out and I hope you like what I've done with your prompt <3 (could you tell that I was listening to Daddy Issues on repeat while writing this lmfao)

Disclaimer: I haven't watched the TLK movie (and I've been avoiding spoilers lol) so I have no idea what Aethelstan is like in that one, this is just based on what I know about him in season 5. Also, I was super done with this story by the time I was done with it so it's not really proofread. If you see any typos feel free to point them out so I can fix them lol, or just enjoy it as it is ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Word Count: ~8k

Pairing: Aethelstan x Reader.

The air was crisp and filled with the scent of pine and earth, invigorating the senses. In the heart of Rumcofa, a small clearing had been transformed into a makeshift training ground. Sihtric Kjartansson stood in the middle of the clearing, his battle-worn sword resting on his broad shoulder. Across from him stood his young daughter. Although you were only a young girl of seven winters, your hands tightly gripped the wooden sword in your hand as you stood tall, shoulders set and feet wide apart as you tried to copy your father's stance. 

"Hold your sword higher, bend your elbows," Sihtric called out, circling you, and gently nudging you to correct your stance. 

"Yes, Father," you nodded. 

Once Sihtric was satisfied with your pose, he turned as if to walk away, only to lunge forward, swinging his sword with calculated precision. Your training sword met his attack, weapons clashing with a resounding thud. Father and daughter moved in harmony, your steps an intricate dance. SIhtric would feign an attack, allowing you to then parry and counter, your small frame mirroring your father's every move.

As the training session drew to a close, a beaming smile stretched across Sihtric's face, as pride swelled within him. He extended a calloused hand and ruffled your hair, affectionately mussing it. 

"You fought well today, my little shieldmaiden," he grinned. 

"Thank you, Father!"

The sounds of whoops and cheers filled the air. You turned your head toward the two children standing on the sidelines, watching you with keen interest as they clapped. There was Sophia, with her fiery red hair cascading down her shoulders, bouncing on her toes as she waited for you to approach them. The mousy-looking boy standing next to her, Aethelstan, rolled his eyes but his shy smile as he met your gaze gave him away. 

Once you were within a few paces, Sophia launched herself at you with a squeal of delight, throwing her arms around you. 

"You were incredible!" she crowed. "You'll soon be even better than Aethelstan here."

Aethelstan scoffed, "She still has a long way to go before that."

You rolled your eyes, "You know I can kick your arse right now if I want, right?"

"Cannot!"

"Can too."

You stuck your tongue out at your friend, and he returned the gesture, causing Sophia to laugh.

Sihtric cleared his throat to interrupt the bickering, "Alright, alright kids, off you go. The hour grows late and your parents must be expecting you home."

"It's alright, Father knows where I am," Sophia responded cheerfully. 

Sihtric chuckled, "Yes well I don't know about Finan, but Eadith will surely have my head if I don't send you back before dark. Off you go, you can see each other tomorrow."

Sophia gave you one last hug before departing, and Aethelstan settled on a wave of his hand which you mimicked. After they had gone, Sihtric took your hand, gently leading the way toward your own home. 

"Did you see that, Father? Aethelstan denies it but I could definitely kick his ass, couldn't I?"

"Language, little one."

"You use it all the time Father."

"Ah yes, but you know your mother doesn't like it when you use words like that."

"Your mother doesn't like what?" came a frail voice from the doorway of your house.

You looked up to see your mother leaning against the wall, arms crossed and an affectionate smile playing on her lips. There were shadows under her eyes and her skin looked sickly pale but at least she was well enough to get out of bed today. 

"Mama!" you let go of your father's hand to rush up to her, wrapping your arms around her waist and burying your face in her warm dress. 

Your mother laughed, "And what was my mischievous girl up to today, hmm?"

"Father is teaching me how to spar. He says I'm getting better every day!"

"Is that so?"

"Yes, she is," Sihtric came over to wrap an arm around your mother's shoulder and pressed a kiss to her forehead. 

She smiled and leaned against him with a sigh. 

"How are you feeling, love?"

"A lot better now that you're both here. Eadith was here earlier. She...she says that..." your mother sent a cautious glance your way.

"What did she say?" Sihtric prompted. 

Your mother was quick to flash him a reassuring smile, "Nothing too noteworthy. All is well."

"If you say so."

"Now go wash up, both of you!" your mother laughed, pinching your cheeks and gently pushing Sihtric further inside the house. "You both smell awful!"

"Mother!"

"You know I love you darling, but you need a bath."

"Get the fuck out of my house!"

You had never seen your mother this angry before. Her rage was a tangible thing, large and looming as she raged. The object of her wrath was your father, who stood there in your mother's room, eyes steeled with determination, even as she threw things at him. 

"I-I can explain," Sihtric began, his voice faltering as he ducked to avoid the book she threw at his head. 

"Explain?" your mother roared, her voice echoing through the chamber. "Is there any explanation for such treachery? After all these years of devotion, I am met with betrayal?"

Her normally gentle demeanour was replaced with a fiery fury that demanded attention. Her throat was raw and her voice cracked. Her eyebrows furrowed, knitting together in a mixture of anger and disbelief. The delicate curve of her lips, once known for only speaking words of grace and tenderness, contorted into a stern line, a testament to her righteous fury. Her complexion was paler than usual, and all colour drained from her face as tears streamed down, betraying her vulnerability. 

You watched your parents argue from the doorway, eyes darting between them. Your hands clenched, nails digging into your palms hard enough to leave marks. You would have much rather left to be with your friends, but you stayed because you worried for your mother. Your parents were not the type to fight, not explosively like this anyways. Sure they had petty arguments, they were human after all, but those were always resolved soon after, with your father bringing your mother flowers and an apology that would coax a smile from her. You worried that they might not recover from this, and if they did not recover, you wondered how your mother would even survive it. She was already so weak. These were the thoughts that consumed you, as you watched silently. You did not even dare entertain the other thoughts that whispered at the edges of your mind, thoughts about your mother's allegations against your father. 

"I offered you my love, my trust, and this is how you repay me?" your mother continued, her voice quivering with emotion. "You have shamed not only me but our entire family!"

"Listen-" Sihtric tried again, avoiding her eyes in shame.

"No you listen! If you wanted to be free to hump all the whores you liked, you shouldn't have married me. Now go. Go back to your harlot and do not let me see your face here!"

Sihtric's eyes widened with disbelief, "You...you do not mean that."

"Oh, I mean it with all my heart."

"It was a mistake. I swear it was a mistake."

"No, it wasn't." 

Your mother's voice cracked with grief as more tears flowed from her stricken eyes. She suddenly rushed up to her husband, grabbed his chin with surprising strength and wrenched his face up to meet her gaze. 

"It was not a mistake," she hissed. "You have already dishonoured me enough, do not make it worse by lying to me as well."

"I didn't mean to hurt you," was all he said, his voice small.

Your mother's hand fell away and she took a trembling step back. 

"What was it then? What was it about me that was not enough for you? Was it my sickness? I admit that I have not had much energy for anything these past few months but-"

She was then unable to finish her sentence, a choked sob escaping her lips as she clapped her hands over her mouth to stifle it. 

"Was I so awful that you had to seek out the company of another woman? Did you find my company that repulsive?"

"That...that's not true..."

"Get the fuck out of my house. I never want to see you again!"

Sihtric opened his mouth to protest but she held up a hand, silencing him. His shoulders slumped, and with tears in his eyes, he turned away from her. He brushed past you on his way out and something in your heart cracked just then. You had to stop him somehow, you thought to yourself. You had to fix this. You had to fix them. 

You sprinted after him, stopping him just as he was about to step out the door, tugging on his hand. 

"Father..."

Sihtric's eyes softened as he took in your forlorn form. 

"I-I'm sorry darling."

"Father, don't go. Please, please, please, don't go," you tugged on his hand more insistently, eyes beginning to well with tears.

"I'm sorry."

"Apologize to her. Please, just apologize. Say you didn't mean any of it. She'll forgive you, I just know she will, she loves you. Just, please don't go."

"I...I can't, I'm sorry."

"Is that all you can say?" your voice rose in frustration. "Is that all you can do? Apologize? If you're really sorry, you'd try to fix it! Please...please, please, please fix this."

Sihtric smoothed a hand through your hair, his touch tender. He brushed the tears from your cheeks and you shook him off angrily. You felt like you couldn't breathe and the walls were beginning to close in on you. Everything was falling apart and you had no idea how to fix it.

"Father, please. Please don't go. Please don't leave her, don't leave us."

"I'm sorry, but I have to go."

With one last solemn look and a pat on your head, he was gone, and as you stared dejectedly at his disappearing back, you felt as if the world had been pulled out from under your feet. You wondered if he'd ever return.

Suddenly, you were interrupted by a pained wail and your head snapped in the direction of your mother's room. Fear seized your heart as you hastily made your way back to her side. She was slumped on the floor, curled in a fetal position, hands wrapped around her knees as her body shuddered with sobs. 

"Mama!" you ran to her side, gingerly putting your hand on her shoulder.

She didn't seem to acknowledge your presence, a low keening sound coming from her throat. 

"Mama!" you shook her shoulder a little harder. "What's wrong? Are you feeling sick? Should I call for someone?"

 Your mother shook her head, still wailing. You waited a few moments, before wrapping your arms around her frail shoulders and helping her sit up. You were just smoothing her hair back when suddenly she turned her head to the side and retched, emptying the contents of her stomach right there on the floor of her chambers. She groaned in pain then, clutching her stomach wearily. 

"Shhh, it's okay. You'll be alright, mother. Let's get you to bed," you whispered. 

You had already put down your own grief, locking it away somewhere unreachable. You had to take care of your mother first, and you couldn't afford to be distracted. You allowed her to take deep shuddering breaths before wiping at her mouth with the back of your sleeve and helping her to get settled back in her bed. Almost all her weight slumped onto your small frame when you moved her, and you grunted with the effort. Then you ran to fetch a bowl of water to clean her face with, pressing a cold cloth onto her forehead to ease her suffering a little. She seemed to vibrate with pain and you didn't know if it was the emotional toll of your father leaving or the physical pain of her sickness. 

Eventually, she drifted off to a troubled sleep as you continued to run your hands through her hair. You kissed her forehead and felt her relax a fraction and you felt your heart lift with hope. You left her side only to clean up the sickness from her floor, before returning to curl up in bed beside her, wrapping your arm around her waist as you held onto her tightly, as if afraid she'd disappear. 

The next morning, she was running a fever. Her skin was scalding and she only opened her eyes for a few moments to mumble something incoherent to you before drifting off again. That is when the panic began to set in. You were just about to head out to fetch Eadith when she arrived at your door herself. She had a sympathetic smile and pitying eyes as she let herself in and set about checking up on your mother. She had heard about yesterday's commotion, almost everyone in Rumcofa had. It was a small town after all. 

"She'll be alright in no time, love. Don't you worry about her, she is a very strong woman," she told you kindly. 

You nodded, and then hesitantly, you asked her the question that had been plaguing your mind. 

"Where's Father?"

Eadith's lips thinned, "He...he has gone with Uhtred and the others."

"Oh."

"I can stay here until your mother feels better," she offered. "You are much too young to care for her on your own."

You were just about to nod when your mother chose that exact moment to wake up. 

"No!" she blurted out, her voice hoarse. "I-I would not want to impose."

Eadith squeezed her hand gently, "It would be no trouble at all. Please."

Your mother shook her head weakly, "It is just a little fever. I'll feel better in no time. You have children to take care of, and your husband isn't even home. You must go back to them. I'll be just fine."

"But-"

"Please," your mother pleaded. "I'm no invalid. I can take care of myself just fine. And besides, I have my darling here to keep me company."

She stretched out her hand which you took immediately, letting her pull you close. 

Eadith looked unconvinced but after your mother insisted several more times, she nodded. She left you with a few herbs and medicines to give to your mother depending on her various symptoms and promised to return the next day to check up on the two of you. 

"Mother..."

"Yes, my love?"

"You'll be alright, right?"

You were cuddled up next to her, but still, the house felt strangely empty. She felt like a wraith beside you, like she could leave any minute and then you'd truly be left alone. You could feel her bones through her thin nightgown and you clutched her tighter, as if you could hold her together. 

"Of course, I'll be alright, my love," she pressed a kiss to the crown of your head. 

"Promise me. Promise me you'll be alright. That you won't leave me!"

"Oh, I wouldn't leave you for the world. You mean too mu-" her words were interrupted by a fit of coughs. 

She pressed her sleeve to her mouth and it came away tinged with blood. She pulled it away quickly, folding the sleeve up so that you could not see and you pretended that you hadn't. The two of you spent the rest of the day in bed, with you reading to her as she swam in and out of consciousness. Every time her eyes would flutter open and see you, her face would relax and she'd kiss you, as if trying to impart a lifetime's worth of affection. 

Her health took a turn for the worse later in the night. Her fever had greatly worsened and although you had given her all of Eadith's medicines, nothing seemed to help. She was still awake though, so that was some comfort. 

"Let me go get Eadith please," you begged her. 

"No. We will not bother her now. The hour is late and she said she'd come by tomorrow anyways."

"But Mother! You seem to be getting worse. Please, please you need to see someone!"

"I will not make a fuss at this hour. I'll be just fine. I just need to-"

A fit of hacking coughs overwhelmed her once again, blood pooling at her lips. She was too weak to hide it and instead allowed it to trickle down her chin. You wiped at it hastily, eyes filling with tears of frustration. You yearned to rush out and fetch someone right away, but your mother kept a vicelike grip on your arm. 

"Mama, please," you begged again. 

"I-no-"

She was having trouble breathing. You could tell. She sucked in air through her mouth and it rattled painfully in her chest. Every breath hurt her and all you could do was helplessly watch. 

"You...you know I-I love you right?" she wheezed suddenly. 

"What?"

"I...I said I love you, my darling girl."

"I love you too Mama," you whispered. 

She pulled you close and you rested your head on her chest. She massaged your scalp with her fingers, whispering more sweet nothings into your ear. You felt her voice grow softer and her breathing slow down. Perhaps she'd sleep it off, you thought to yourself. Yes, she'd sleep off her fever and be right as rain in the morning. You entertained yourself with such thoughts as you drifted off as well. 

You jolted awake sometime later in the night, some unknown panic clawing in your throat as you bolted out of bed. 

Your mother had stopped breathing. You had felt it. You had felt the stillness of her next to you. You shook her, slowly at first, and then more frantically.

"Mama! Mama! Mama wake up!"

She remained listless, her limp frame rattling like a bag of bones as you shook her harder. Your pleas grew louder as well, your voice rising with every moment that passed. 

"Mama, please. Please, please, please. Please don't leave me. You promised! Remember, you promised that you wouldn't leave me!" you screamed. "You can't break your promise. You'd be a bad mother if you broke your promise...please, I am begging you don't go."

Reality set in soon. Her skin had grown cold. It was clear that she had been gone for a while. You swore at yourself for not waking up sooner, for not going to someone for help earlier, for not doing something. Eventually, you slumped down, throat raw from screaming. The house was indeed empty now, and your mother was a wraith. Your grief was your only companion and it was a quiet needling thing, stripping you raw and ragged from the inside. you wanted to scream but no more sound would come out. You would have to fester in dark silence it seemed. 

In a daze, you wondered if you should go get someone now. It made no sense to, not anymore. What could anyone do now? They'd just come to take her away and then you'd never see her again. You saw how what they did to the dead. They were often burned. Soon there would be nothing left of your mother but ashes. Your mouth tasted like ashes and you had the sudden urge to throw up. Seven years was not nearly enough time to spend with one's mother. You thought you'd have a lifetime. 

You decided not to bother anyone then. You wiped your own tears and lifted the blankets to curl up next to your mother's body, clinging to her, perhaps to share your own warmth with her or perhaps hoping that she'd share her cold emptiness with you. At least then you would receive some relief from the burning agony that lit your heart. With broken syllables, you hummed your favourite lullaby to her, the one she always sang to you, and in that moment, pressed against her ribs, you could pretend that the hollow thud in your own chest came from hers instead. 

You did not know how long you remained there, in the space between wakefulness and sleep, the space where dreams felt like reality and your mother's arms wrapped around you almost as tightly as yours were around her. You did not notice the sun rise in the morning or set again the next evening. The only thing that jolted you out of your reverie was the sharp knock on the door. 

"Anyone home?" 

It was a familiar voice.

"Hello? Sophia's mother sent me with some things," Aethelstan called out from the door, knocking again. "She apologizes for not being able to come herself but something urgent came up."

He said your name a few times too, puzzled at the lack of response. 

You ignored him. There wasn't anything he could do either, and Eadith's medicines would not be of any use anymore. You burrowed deeper into your mother, raising the covers over your face. If you ignored Aethelstan for long enough maybe he'd leave, and then you could be alone with your mother again. 

It worked for a while and no one else bothered you for the rest of the night. However, the next morning there was a larger commotion at the door. Several fists pounded on the door until eventually, they had to break it in. It gave way with a loud crack, and still, you did not acknowledge their presence. The loud voices were inside the house now, as they rummaged through all the rooms of the house, the heavy footsteps growing closer until they finally reached your mother's room. Still, you did not acknowledge their presence. 

Someone said your name, softly at first, and then more insistent. You ignored them. Then suddenly, the covers were ripped off the bed. The sunlight accosted your eyes and you winced. Someone swore and the room burst with activity. 

"By the gods, is she alright? Are they both-?"

It was your father's voice, you realized indifferently. He was finally back. 

He said your name again, more insistently, and you shook your head listlessly, face still tucked into your mother's neck. That minuscule movement was enough though, to confirm that you were still alive. Strong arms peeled your mother's arms back to lift you out of them. It was at that moment when you truly came alive.

"NO!"

You screamed, a terrible ear-piercing shriek. They were your father's arms, as they pried you away from your mother and you shrieked even louder, flailing about desperately. You were downright feral, clawing and biting to get back to your mother. 

"No. Let me go! Let me go back to Mama! I want Mama!"

Several other hands joined your father's in pulling you away. All your father's friends were there, Uhtred and Osferth, and even Sophia's father, Finan was there. They all looked at you with pitying eyes as you thrashed harder, body contorting wildly. Your mother's fingers were clutched tightly in yours and it took several minutes for them to peel you off.

"Don't take her away!" you howled. "She promised she wouldn't leave me! You can't take her away. She wouldn't break her promise, she's not a bad mother!"

"Shhh, darling, she's gone," it was Eadith's gentle voice that broke through your frenzy. 

Sihtric handed your writhing form to her and you immediately slumped in her arms. You did not have the heart to bite and claw at her, not after all she had done. She smoothed her hands over your face gently. 

"Oh, you poor darling girl. I'm so sorry, I should have come earlier," she mumbled softly. 

The time after that was a blur to you as well, lost in your grief and rage. Your mother had only been dead a month before your father married again. You were almost certain it was the woman he had been seeing when your mother had caught him, but you couldn't bring yourself to care anymore. The true fury came when he moved her into your house. The house your mother had died in, the house that you had died in. At first, you refused to live with them. It would be a mockery to your mother's memory, to live in her house with your father and his new whore. That was what she was to you anyways, you never acknowledged her as his wife. Eventually though, even you felt bad imposing on Sophia's family. Despite Finan and Eadith repeatedly assuring you that you could remain with them forever if you wished, you allowed your father to take you home. 

The next few days passed by in a haze and you barely recalled any of it. In the days leading up to and after your mother's funeral, you stayed with Eadith and her family. In any other circumstance, you would have been delighted to spend your days with Sophia, but you spent most of your days curled up in bed. You refused to eat anything, despite Eadith's best efforts and you never spoke a word. You especially refused to see your father, turning your head away from him every time he came to visit and speak to you. 

The next few years passed by quickly as well. Once a lively and energetic child, you withdrew into yourself, but the silent simmering heat burning you from the inside remained. The only people who could ever draw smiles from you were Sophia and Aethelstan, and try they did. They had made it their collective mission to see you in happier spirits. You no longer took fighting lessons from your father, instead joining Sophia's lessons with Finan or Aethelstan's with Uhtred. The chasm between you and your father grew as he began to have more children with his new wife. You watched him be affectionate with them and the bitterness began to poison you from the inside out. You made your disdain for his wife very obvious and the feeling was mutual. You looked too much like your late mother for her to be comfortable in your presence. That paired with your constant reminders that she was the other woman and had only been able to acquire your father because your mother had died, meant that she went out of her way to make things difficult for you. As your father was often away fighting, she ran the household. She made you clean up after your younger half-siblings and do all the chores in the house. Often you escaped, slipping out to spend time with Sophia and Aethelstan, but that meant another screaming match when you returned home. 

Despite your bitterness, you couldn't find it in your heart to hate your half-siblings. By the time you were twelve, you had three. Two brothers and a sister. Your brothers were timid and easy going while your sister was a spitfire. She reminded you of yourself sometimes, often when you sat down to brush the tangles and mud out of her hair as she returned from another grand escapade. You were afraid of yourself sometimes. You were afraid that the poison inside you would come spilling out and taint them. They were innocent, blameless in their conception, and you could not blame them for the sins of their parents. Still, the resentment was difficult to erase. Watching your father spend time with his new family, you felt like an outsider. it felt like watching someone else's happy family through the window, watching how the warmth lit up their eyes while the wind hollowed out your bones and filled your lungs with ice. 

Your father was patient with you, painfully tender as if that would make up for what he did. He never raised his voice at you, even as you threw fits and screamed at both him and your stepmother in the first few years you lived with them. He was kind to you, just as he was with your half-siblings, but the distance was there. He'd avoid looking at you for too long because looking was a painful reminder of what he had lost. Everyone had always said that you were almost an exact carbon copy of your mother, and that was both a comfort and anguish. He treated you as if you were fragile, prone to breaking at any moment. You supposed you were. You felt it yourself sometimes as if you were on the precipice of doing something terrible, of releasing years' worth of resentment in one explosive moment. Your grief walked hand in hand with madness and buried things had an awful way of haunting you. 

Your breaking point came when you were just shy of your fifteenth year. Your stepmother had made you scrub the entire house clean to prepare for your father's return from yet another fighting season. You had done just that, but after you had finished, your sister had run into the house, tracking in mud and debris from the outside. You hadn't been able to clean it up again in time and when your mother returned from her errands, she screamed at you for being lazy and irresponsible as usual. She screamed at you all the time, so that wasn't what made you lose it. It was when she raised her hand and slapped you. The blow came as a surprise and you tasted blood. One of the rings in her fingers had cut you, and your lower lip trickled with crimson. You saw red then as the blood roared in your ears. You let out a string of the worst profanities, calling her all manner of insults. It was your unfortunate luck that it was at that moment that your father chose to return. 

"You will not speak to your mother that way!" he roared. 

"She is not my mother!" you screeched. "Do not ever disrespect my mother again by comparing her to this whore!"

Your father uttered your name, his tone tinged with a warning. 

"Apologize to her," he muttered. "You do not get to speak to her that way."

"Do you even know what she did? Do you even care? No of course you don't. All you care about is your perfect new wife and your perfect new kids. You don't give a fuck about me, just like you didn't give a fuck about my mother!"

"Mind your manners! I am still your father!"

"I'd rather have no father at all than one like you! You killed her, you killed my mother. I wish you had died instead. In fact, I hope your next fight kills you!"

Your stepmother gasped dramatically and your father flinched. His expression grew thunderous and he lifted his hand, almost instinctively. He pulled it back down to his side almost immediately but the damage was done. You looked at him incredulously. 

"You would raise your hand at me?" you whispered in disbelief. "Your whore already hits me at every opportunity, and now you would do? Maybe you should...maybe you should just beat me to death. Maybe it's me who should have died with my mother so that I could at least be with someone who cared about me."

"I-no...I didn't mean-" Sihtric stumbled over his words.

You didn't wait to hear his explanation, stomping out the door and sprinting away. You took refuge in the forest, slumped against your favourite tree as you sobbed. Your wish to remain alone went ungranted as you heard the sound of leaves crunching as someone approached you. A familiar voice mumbled your name. 

"Go away, Sophia!"

"You can't just push people away when you're angry you know."

"I can, and I will."

"Not me," Sophia came over and knelt on the ground next to you. "You can't get rid of me!"

You raised your head to look at her, eyes still swimming with tears, "Why are you here?"

"I saw you run out of your house and head this way. Seemed wise to follow you."

"You can't follow me forever."

"I can certainly try. Now tell me what happened."

You sighed and then straightened up, recounting your story to her, your voice taking on a sharp edge. Sophia nodded sympathetically, and then she pulled out her handkerchief to dab at your lip gingerly. 

"I'm going to leave!" you said suddenly. 

"What?"

"I'm leaving," you said again, more firmly. "I can't stay here anymore."

"You...you can come to live with my family? You know my parents adore you."

"No. I can't stay here, in Rumcofa. I can't watch my father live happily ever after with her new family and I can't watch that horrible witch erase all signs of mother from that house. I can't do it, I won't."

Sophia's brow wrinkled in concern, "Where will you go?"

"Anywhere has to be better than here. I know how to fight, I can go anywhere."

"I don't think-"

"Don't try to talk me out of it Sophia, I've made up my mind. I'm going to go and I'm going to leave tonight?"

"Tonight?" her eyes widened. 

You nodded, "They won't be looking for me for a while. They'll think I got angry and stormed off to your place as usual. That gives me some time."

"What'll you do if they do look for you?"

"I'll be long gone by then."

Sophia was silent for several long moments, pondering something in her head. Then, her eyes lit up and you recognized her expression as one she usually had when she had an idea.

"I'll come with you!" she blurted excitedly. 

"What? No!"

"Yes!"

"Sophia, no!"

"Come on, it'll be perfect! We'll explore the world together. And besides when have I ever not been by your side? Trust me, you need me."

You gaped at her as if she had grown a third eye.

"Are you insane? You have a family. A family who adores you and they would be extremely worried if you just disappeared like that."

"Technically I could say the same about you but it's clear that you're in no mood to listen to anyone. It's final, I'm coming with you!"

"No, I can't let you do that."

"Well, I can't let you go on your own."

"But...your parents...?"

Sophia looked pensive for a moment, "They'll understand. And you're like a daughter to them too. They'll be worried about you so I'm sure they'd be happier knowing we're watching out for each other."

"But you can't leave them!"

After several more rounds of back and forth between the two of you, Sophia jutted out her chin stubbornly. 

"If you refuse to let me come with you, I am going over to your father right now and telling him you're planning to run away!"

"What? You can't do that!"

"Watch me!"

You were silent for several minutes, and then you nodded hesitantly. Sophia's face split into a grin immediately. 

"What about Aethelstan," Sophia winked. "Can't leave him behind. Who knows which fair lady of lovely Rumcofa he might take as his companion if we're not here to keep him company."

Your face warmed immediately at the thought of your friend. He had been one of your best friends but in the past years, your feeling for him had grown into something else, something more. You were too much of a coward, and too consumed with your bitterness to examine those feelings. You had simply buried them somewhere deep inside where they'd never see the light of day. You shook your head frantically.

"We can't tell Aethelstan!" you whisper-yelled. "He's the son of the king and Lord Uhtred's ward. There'd be a whole search party after us if we take him."

Sophia's smile dropped as the reality of what they were about to do set in.

"But...but we can't leave him behind. Should we at least tell him where we're going?"

You shook your head again, "No. He'll only try to talk us out of it."

"But-"

"If you're coming with me, we have to do things my way."

"That's not fair!"

"Then stay here. Where it's safe and familiar, and things are fair," you shrugged. 

Sophia sighed and nodded eventually, "Alright, we'll do things your way."

And that was the beginning of a different life. The two of you left that very night, creeping out of Rumcofa using one of Sophia's father's boats. You had insisted that she write her family a note, telling them that she was safe. you also forbade her from mentioning you in her note, although everyone had known the two of you long enough to know that where one went, the other surely always followed. 

The next few years passed quickly, and both you and Sophia had made quite a name for yourselves and had amassed a small army of sorts. You had formed your own family of sorts, a band of fellow women who had run away from varying circumstances, brought together by fate. Your group of shieldmaidens was famous for protecting villages from raiders. You had taken care to travel far enough that you never ran into your father or any of his men, and over the years the fear of getting caught had worn off. 

You had first heard about Lord Uhtred's fight to retake Bebbanburg through one of your messengers. After much deliberation, you and Sophia had agreed that it would only be right if you joined the fight. Lord Uhtred had always been kind and had taken care of your family ever since you could remember. You remembered him visiting and asking after your mother's health and it was your duty to help him retake his birthright. 

Your army of shieldmaidens did not hesitate to volunteer to fight by your side. They trusted you to lead them and they would stand with you no matter what. You wondered if you'd see your father there. He had to be, he was one of Lord Uhtred's closest friends and if he was still alive, he'd be right there by his side. With a pang of regret, you remembered the last words you had said to him. You had wished for his death and you desperately hoped that the gods had not granted your immature selfish prayer. The years had cooled your anger and you were no longer as bitter. All the women you had met and the stories you had heard made you realize that there were worst fates out there and the sting of poison that ran through your veins became dilute. 

The fight itself was long and hard and you lost quite a few women, all cherished friends and companions. Everyone lost someone in the fight and after all the brave warriors had been honoured and sent on their way to Valhalla, everyone gathered within the newly conquered castle walls to celebrate Lord Uhtred's victory. You had been able to avoid facing anyone you knew so far, but now, as you sat in the corner, allowing Sophia to bandage your injured arm, you could see Lord Uhtred and his men make their way toward you both. 

Finan greeted you first, with a broad grin and a clap on your shoulder. Sophia turned around at his presence and when she saw him she squealed with pleasure.

"Father!" she crowed, throwing her arms around him.

He wrapped his arms around her and lifted her, twirling her slightly, like the used to when she was a child. 

"My girl is a warrior now," he boomed with laughter. "And leading your own army too."

Sophia's smile turned sheepish and she let go of him and lowered her gaze.

"I...I'm sorry Father. I'm sorry for leaving..." she muttered. 

Finan took a deep breath and then exhaled, sighing. He shook his head and patted his daughter's shoulder gently. 

"We will speak of that another time. For now, it is enough that you are safe and whole, and that you're home. You had us very worried you know, your mother especially. She was inconsolable."

"I am so sorry, Father."

As you watched Sophia and her father walk away, presumably to go see her mother and the rest of her family, your eyes stung and you blinked quickly, holding back the sudden onslaught of tears that threatened to spill. You felt bad that Sophia had to leave because of you, but more than that, you felt a pang of hurt at the thought of no one missing you. You had no mother who would be inconsolable at your loss. You busied yourself with the bandage on your arm, not realizing that Uhtred had left as well, leaving you alone with your father. 

Sihtric cleared his throat and you looked up at him in surprise. Both of you were silent for several long moments, neither knowing where to start. Your eyes charted the planes of his face. He looked older, with tired lines around his eyes and mouth. He seemed to have a perpetual furrow in his brow. Now that you had seen him, you were hit with an overwhelming wave of relief. His battles had not taken him from this earth, he was still alive. 

"I...I am sorry."

It was you who had mustered up the courage to speak. You looked him in the eye as you did, shoulders back, eyes blazing with defiance as if daring him to rebuke you. You waited for him to turn his head away, to make some sort of cold remark or something of the sort. He didn't though. He just stared at you and you felt rooted to the ground. Then, wordlessly, he stepped closer and pulled you into his arms. You froze in his embrace and he just held on tighter. You could not see his face but you felt his shoulders tremble and you wondered with some disbelief if he was crying. You patted his back awkwardly. 

"I'm sorry Father... for everything."

Sihtric shook his head and when he pulled away you saw the tears that had tracked down his face and soaked into his beard. He cupped your face with aching tenderness and pressed a kiss to your forehead. 

"I thought I had lost you forever," he whispered. "I thought I would never see you again. You didn't even leave a note."

The tears you had been holding back fell now, and you forced yourself to harden your eyes. 

"I didn't think you'd care," you shrugged.

He thumbed the tears from your face, "I am sorry. I am sorry I ever made you feel that way. I understand if you can never forgive me but you have to know how truly sorry I am. I will spend the rest of my life making it up to you if you let me. Please let me. Please come home."

You avoided his pleading gaze, instead letting your eyes fall on your fellow warriors. 

"I have another family as well now. They need me."

Sihtric's face was crestfallen but he nodded, "Of course. I am proud of you, you know, more than you can imagine. You have become a most fearsome warrior and I am proud to call you my beloved daughter."

"I have another family...but you will always be my father," you finally said. "The first family I ever knew. You will always have a part of my heart."

It was you who fell into his embrace this time and you could feel his joy in the way his arms wrapped around you. 

"I understand that you have another place now, but know that you will always have a place with me, should you ever wish to return," he mumbled and then he hesitated. "And...you should visit. Your siblings have missed you dearly."

"I suppose a visit won't hurt."

Sihtric chuckled and pulled away, clapping your shoulder, "We have much else to talk about, I have much else to apologize for...but for now, I think there is someone else who wishes for your attention."

He gestured toward the tall boy watching you from across the courtyard and when you caught his eye, his eyes turned cold and he turned away. 

"Ouch," you muttered.

"The two of you left him behind," Sihtric explained. "You cannot blame the poor boy for feeling hurt. Now go, make things right."

He nudged you toward Aethelstan's disappearing form with a wink and he was gone before you could question his action. You turned around to make your way toward your friend, waking fast to catch up. 

"Aethelstan!" you called after him.

At first, you thought that he didn't hear you because he didn't turn around, but then he started to walk away faster. He walked right out the front gates and into the field beyond. You dropped your sword in the grass and chased after him.

"Damnit Aethelstan, slow down!"

Your words only spurred him on, but by now you were fully sprinting after him. You caught up in a matter of moments, grabbing his arm to pull him to a halt. He kept his back to you so you circled him, meeting him face-to-face for the first time in years. His eyes remained glued to the floor you crossed your arms in frustration. 

"You won't even say hello?" you asked furiously.

He did not respond. You pinched the bridge of your nose and sighed. 

"Go away," he finally muttered, his voice sharp. "I don't want to talk to you."

"No, I will not! Why are you running from me? You were my dearest friend, and now you won't even look at me."

Aethelstan's eyes finally met hers, burning with emotion, "You're no friend of mine!"

You flinched, "Hey...that's not fair."

"Friends don't do what you did. Friends don't abandon friends!"

"I never wanted to hurt you," you pleaded, reaching out to him but he took a step back, avoiding your touch. "I had to go."

Aethelstan shook his head, "I don't want to hear your excuses. You told Sophia and took her with you, but you didn't even bother leaving me a note? You clearly didn't think of me as a friend so why should I?"

"I couldn't take you with me. You know that."

"You could have at least asked. You could have at least let me know!"

"It all happened so fast, I didn't get a chance. I-I am sorry."

"Don't bother apologizing. You don't owe me anything," he shrugged. "It won't change the past."

"No...but it's a start. I should have told you that I was leaving. I should have explained why I had to go. I never meant to hurt you, and I'm truly sorry for the pain I caused."

"You treated me like I meant nothing to you. Now you have to accept that you're nothing to me."

Tears welled up in your eyes, "You mean everything to me, Aethelstan. You're my dearest friend, and I never wanted to lose that."

"You left without saying a word. We were supposed to share everything. But you abandoned me, just like that. How dare you say that I mean something to you?"

"Please..."

Aethelstan shook his head, his eyes firm, "We are not friends. Not anymore."

"That's not fair!" you protested, voice breaking. "After all these years, after everything we've been through together, you're going to dismiss our friendship like it never meant a thing?"

"It's the truth. I can't forget the way I felt. Do you even know what I went through on my own, without you there."

The two of you stood there, locked in a tense silence. You refused to give up, your determination fueled by the urge to make things right with him, no matter what it took. You felt desperate. You couldn't lose him. Not when you had spent every day of the past few years thinking about him. 

"Fine," you said finally, voice steady and shoulders slumped. "If you don't want to call me your friend, then I'll respect that. But I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me one day. Please, give me a chance to fix this."

Aethelstan did not respond, expression guarded. You nodded, mostly to yourself and turned around, starting to walk back to where the others were. Disappointment churned in your gut and you felt sick. You had quite possibly ruined one of your most cherished relationships due to your own stupidity. You pressed your lips tightly against each other to prevent them from trembling. You knew that he did not owe you forgiveness. Whether or not an apology was accepted was entirely up to the person one had hurt and if Aethelstan decided never to forgive you, there was nothing you could do about it. Just the thought of it made your heartache.

Just then, a hand landed on your shoulder, making you stop in your tracks. You turned out, bewildered. Once Aethelstan caught sight of your reddened face, his eyes widened.  

"What's wrong with you? Why're you crying?"

You hastily swiped your hands under your eyes, shaking your head, "I'm not."

He raised an eyebrow sardonically, "You have always been a terrible liar."

You shrugged. 

"I don't know if I can forgive you," he admitted after several seconds of silence. "But I'll try."

Your eyes brightened and your lips lifted upward. You weren't a hopeless case after all.

"But I don't think we can ever be friends again," he quickly pointed out, making you deflate again. 

"Right. Of course. I understand. I'll take what I can get and you are under no obligation to...to be my friend. Just your forgiveness alone is enough."

Athelstan watched you with a peculiar expression, halfway between amused and concerned. 

"I don't think I can go back to being just friends with you."

"By the gods, I know! You don't have to keep saying it like it'll hurt any less."

He outright laughed then, and you bristled. You glared at him.

"What I meant, silly girl, is that I can't go back to being just friends when I think of you as more than that."

Oh.

Oh.

"Yeah," he reached out to brush the tears from your lashes. "So stop moping about like it's the end of the world."

He turned around and jogged back to the courtyard where everyone was gathered, leaving you to marvel at the latest development of things on your own. 

[stargazedwinchester]

Too Soon? | Sam

Summary: Charlie teams you both up with the Winchester brothers for a case. After a very long road trip toward a hunt, someone's caught feelings for you.

Word count: 1,113

Let me know if you want a part 2!

♱⁺. ⋆˙✧⋆✧˙⋆⊹.♱

Charlie's excited grin means two things; there's a new World of Warcraft DLC, or she really wants you to do something with her. You huff, loosening your grip from her hands. "Char, I honestly really don't want to. I love you, I do, but..."

"Why, Y/N? It'll be so fun. Sam and Dean are so fun and so cool, you'll really like them. Even if it's a shitty boring hunt, at least you'll have me." She bounces up and down on the spot. "Please? Pretty please?" She begs, her ruby hair shining from the daylight coming through the window behind her. She looks at you in your eyes, pleading for you to once just say 'yes'.

You had been childhood best friends with Charlie ever since you both were bullied at school for playing video games during lunch breaks and recess. Both of you were the very few girls who would actually spend time around nerdy guys and weren't put off by them. Not that anyone gave them a chance, though.

"Okay, fine. I'll go with you. Just this once, though, you owe me." You give in, a smile creeping onto your face. What's the worst that could happen?

After Charlie's parents passed in a horrible accident when she was 14, she had been adopted by your father as both families were extremely close, good friends. It was almost like a dream come true for both of you at the time, being able to actually have a sister who's also your best friend? That's the best thing to ever happen to a child.

♱⁺. ⋆˙✧⋆✧˙⋆⊹.♱

You exit Charlie's beetle to a place that doesn't remotely resemble a home. "We're here?" You ask, squinting your eyes from the mid-summer sun blaring into your pupils. "Yep. They said to meet here." She says, checking her phone for any text messages. While glancing over at Charlie's phone, you notice two huge men walking toward you. "They're here!" She announces whilst the shorter man opens up his arms for her.

"Charlie!" He laughs gleefully, and she gives him a massive hug. You stand there awkwardly, not knowing what to do. "Hey, I'm Y/N." You greet the taller one, he runs his hand through his hair, before shaking yours. "Hi Y'N. I'm Sam. Nice to meet you." You look up at him flashing him a quick smile. "I assume the other guy is Dean?" You question, and Charlie pulls your arm towards her. "Y/N! This is Dean, he's my favourite. No offence, Sam." She chuckles, and Sam grunts. "None taken." He says. "Hi, Dean. Nice to meet you." You hold out your hand for him to shake it, and he takes it. "Nice to meet you. We've heard lots about you." He shows you a warm smile, his eyes a lovely shade of green that you haven't seen before.

"The gangs back together!" Charlie exclaims, you furrow your brows. "Back together? I've never met these guys in my life."

"You get what I mean."

♱⁺. ⋆˙✧⋆✧˙⋆⊹.♱

After lots of arguing about who gets shotgun, Charlie sits in the front with Dean, and you're sat in the back with Sam. Charlie passes you snacks every so often so you don't feel left out.

"So, YN," Sam starts, taking his gaze off of the trees speeding past the car. "How long have you known Charlie?" He asks, his hazel eyes meeting yours. "My whole life. She's my sister." You trail your sentence, not understanding why Sam would ask this. Dean chuckles. "Sammy, you didn't know that?" He and Charlie start laughing before she reaches over the seat to face you both. "I never told him this. Sorry, Sam." She pops another snack in her mouth, and Sam rolls his eyes. "Perks of being the least favourite, I guess. I'm out of the loop, guys." He throws his hands up in the air, a grin on his face. "It's okay. I'll tell you everything you need to know." You turn yourself round to face him, starting with the story of how you met her, where you grew up and everything that happened with Charlies' parents and your own.

The sun is setting pretty quick, the clouds turning salmon and the sky a denim shade. Dean smoothly parked the Impala outside of a small '70s diner, you all climb out and walk inside to find a free table. Luckily, the place seems busy so you assume it's got good food. You're starving at this point so to be honest, you'd eat anything at this point. You sit opposite Sam, but next to Charlie who's already looking at a menu. Scanning the table, there are only two menus. Dean and Charlie are so lost in their own world that they wouldn't even think about sharing a menu. You snatch the menu out of Charlie's hand and usher her to share with Dean while yourself and Sam work something out between you both.

You stretch your legs out and accidentally hit something long in front of you, assuming it's the table leg, you stretch out further. "That's my leg." Sam says, catching your eyes, then quickly looking away. "Sorry," you mumbled, seeing him act so awkward was somewhat charming to you, how his good looks could so easily get him so many women, yet he seems so reserved and polite. There really aren't that many men in the world like this, at all.

His golden eyes meet yours again, but you're already staring back at him. Your eyes widened in surprise, you didn't even think that he'd look at you again. "What?" He huffs, a smirk appearing. Oh, he knows he's hot. A dimple forms and suddenly, you're really attracted. "Me? Nothing. I was daydreaming." You lie.

The waitress comes over and takes everyones orders, and Dean turns around to allow you both to order. He notices how flushed your cheeks are and Sam's sly grin, and he puts two and two together. He nudges Charlie, and they both glance at you, then Sam, then back at each other with a huge smile on each of their faces. "Look at you two love birds," Dean starts, and you roll your eyes. "Please, don't start." You can't stop a simper from taking shape on your face, Charlie slaps your arm. "You two would be so cute together!" She scoffs, you've never seen her this happy about something before, it's almost scary.

"No, it's far too soon to say anything like that, Char!" You hide your face in embarrassment. "Am I not allowed to make friends?" You say, hoping Sam would have something to add.

"Is it too soon?" Sam says, grinning from ear to ear.

[imagine-darksiders]

Thank you to the marvellous @humboltsquid for commissioning a fanfic with pregnant Reader attempting to hide said pregnancy from the Horsemen because she fears they'll buy into the social rhetoric surrounding single mothers who don't know who the father is.

TW: Vomiting, morning sickness, drinking, Pregnancy, briefest allusion to sa, no actual sa took place, everything was consensual, both parties were drunk, Reader remembers most of the night except the guy's face and name. Horsemen are predictably angry about someone touching their little sister.

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Porcelain, cold and consolidated, bites into the sensitive skin of your palms as you grip the edge of the bathroom sink, your arms locked like overheated pistons just to keep yourself standing upright in defiance of how your legs seem determined to collapse out from underneath your weight.

To your right, the loo gurgles noisily, flushing away any traces of the meal you’d spewed up into it only moments ago. At least the sound helps to drown out a voice thundering at you from the other side of the door.

“Let us in!”

Fumbling with the tap for a moment, you bend down, spooning a palmful of fresh, cooling water into your mouth. As you do so, you spare a baleful glance down at the loo again, and the food lost to its pipes… Perfectly good rations… all gone to waste.

Five years on from the Great Resurrection and Earth’s agricultural efforts are finally on a steady incline. While the food situation isn’t anywhere near as desperate as it was when Humanity woke up to a world without excess, that doesn’t mean you’re particularly pleased to see precious rations wasted because you couldn’t hold them down.

And now that you’re supposed to be eating for two…

Groaning, your expression twists into a look of remorse, and you place one hand gently on your stomach, roaming a palm over the bump that lays hidden beneath the baggiest jumper you could find. You’re only too aware that it won’t be so easy to hide the swell in another couple of months.

You barely manage to bite back another miserable groan as a colossal fist hammers against the door so viciously, you almost wonder if the wood will splinter and break, which starts to seem more likely when seconds later, a familiar voice booms out, “If you don’t open this door, I’m tearing it from its frame!”

Ah… That’ll be War; youngest of the Four Horsemen, an armoured, muscle-bound colossus who also just so happens to be one of your very dearest friends.

A friend who has been growing rightfully suspicious of you over these last couple of months…

There are only so many excuses you can fall back on to explain away your frequent and unexpected dashes for the nearest bathroom. You can only thank the Creator that neither of the Four seem all that well-versed on the more delicate biological functions of humans.

Swiping a wrist over the back of your mouth, you lean away from the sink and assess yourself in the mirror, doing your best to ignore the taste of vomit still sitting like a layer of fuzz on the roof of your mouth.

‘How long are you going to keep this up?’ you pose to your reflection, her sleep-stained eyes bearing back into yours as if she too has had the same question.

It’s been like this for a few weeks now, ever since the dreaded Morning Sickness wrapped its hands around your guts and wrung them with a relentlessness that leaves you scrambling for the closest bathroom at least twice a day.

It wasn’t this bad in the first trimester… Now entering your second, things are getting a Hell of a lot harder to manage. To hide.

Slowly letting your eyes slip shut, you exhale through your nostrils in exasperation as a different voice accompanies the first. “Kid? I uh… I think he means it. We just wanna make sure you haven’t drowned in there.”

Strife… The humour he tries to inject into his quip is overshadowed by his hand rattling at the doorknob. He’s worried. They all are. You wouldn’t have thought it possible, if you didn’t know them personally, though each Horseman will swear up and down they don’t ever feel such trivial, human emotions.

Actions, however, speak louder than words.

Their sister, Fury, has hardly left your side ever since Mrs Gaffe tutted at you from across the hallway and you immediately retreated into your apartment, leant back against the door and wept into your hands. She didn’t know… She didn’t know Mrs Gaffe who lives on your floor is also a chemist, and she’s also the very woman who sold you your pregnancy test… and the subsequent tests you went back for when the first came up positive. You’d spent over an hour convincing Fury that, no, she doesn’t need to defend your honour by besting old Mrs Gaffe in combat. Though you let her know you appreciated the gesture.

You try to think the best of your neighbours. And you certainly didn’t like to think of Mrs Gaffe being a gossip, but judging by the curious and frequently disdainful glances other people in the building sent your way, you soon came to realise your secret was not such a secret after all.

You’re pregnant. And the father is nowhere to be found.

You only hope word doesn’t get back to the Horsemen somehow. You don’t think you could bear it if their gazes turned sharp and pointed as well.

Outside the bathroom door, you hear War grunt at Strife to move aside, and at last, you decide you’ve stalled enough.

Shoving yourself off the sink, you spin around on a hell, regretting the action as a wave of dizziness threatens to knock you back down to Earth, but it’s soon dispelled with a deep breath and a second to gather yourself, calling, “Okay, okay, I’m coming out.”

Someone – Strife, you think – grumbles, “Finally.”

Grabbing the handle, you pull the door towards yourself and tilt your head back, blinking up at the two, immense shapes blocking the entire width of your hallway. If it weren’t for the space between your bedroom and bathroom being meagre at best, you imagine you’d have the remaining two behemoths cramped in there as well.

“When did you guys get to be so clingy.”

War’s ice-blue eyes glare down at you from beneath a crimson hood.

You start to edge past them, feeling like a fish trying to squeeze between a pair of grizzlies. Just as you make it past and put your back to them entirely, you hear Strife announce, “All right. That’s it.”

“What’s it?” you ask hesitantly as he advances on you, his heavy, metal boots thudding on the carpet. Before you can react, the Horseman suddenly slings a bulky arm around your waist and hoists you off your feet, tucking you into his side. You’re forced to fold almost in half, bent over Strife’s uncomfortable gauntlet with most of the pressure bearing down on your stomach.

“STRIFE!” you exclaim, horrified.

“I’m not lettin’ you go until you tell us what’s been goin’ on with you,” he huffs, clomping into the living room with War bringing up the rear. By the window, Death twists his bone-mask towards the commotion, his shoulders flattening, unimpressed. “Brother…” he warns.

Fury too, tosses Strife her own disparaging glare from the sofa and barks, “Is it truly necessary to manhandle the human?”

You, however, hardly pay attention to a word they exchange. Your mind is utterly and wholly on the point of your stomach that’s digging into the Horseman’s gauntlet. You can cope with the discomfort, but it isn’t just you anymore.

There’s no thought to the cry you let out, just a plea borne of a desire to protect the little life growing inside you, by any means necessary. “Strife!” you exclaim, smacking your palms against his armoured thigh in a bid to relieve some of the pressure around your gut. “Put me down! The baby-!”

No sooner has the word left your lips than you find the arm restraining you springing open, letting you tumble to the floor. A jolt shoots through you as your hands and knees strike the carpet, but all you can celebrate in that moment is that the strength of a Horseman is no longer curled around your vulnerable stomach.

You don’t look up at the Horsemen until you’ve pushed yourself back to your feet, patting down your jumper. When you do happen to glance up, your face immediately falls.

Death has shifted from his position by the window and now stands several, jarring feet closer, he and Fury both, in fact. The latter has somehow leapt from her seat on the sofa in the time it took you to gather yourself up off the floor.

But more disconcertingly, they’re still. Utterly motionless as if they’ve been caught in a pocket of frozen time.

Gulping, you tentatively twist your head over a shoulder, only to find War and Strife are in much the same state.

Strife has backed up to stand next to his brother, his liquid-gold eyes round beneath his visor, neither one of them twitching so much as a single muscle. It’s… eerie. You don’t think you’ve ever seen them so still before. Death, maybe, but not the other three.

It only occurs to you then that you might have let something slip.

Then, at last, just as you wet your lips to call out to one of them…

 “What did you say?” Fury breathes, cutting neatly through the heavy blanket of silence draped over the room.

Blinking owlishly, you turn back to face her, your mind scrambling for an adequate response.

“What… what do you mean, ‘what did I say?’”

Feigning ignorance it is.

You actually leap several inches off the ground when the Horseman suddenly explodes back into motion, storming forwards in your direction and exclaiming, “What baby?!”

“B-baby?” you double down, backing away from her until your spine collides with a solid torso – War. “Who said anything about a baby?”

“You just did!”

“Did I?”

“Y/n…” Death utters in a slow and cautious tone as though he’s afraid you’ll bolt at the slightest provocation - Hell, given the furtive glances you keep swinging around his side at the door to your apartment, he might be in the ballpark. His voice alone carries enough authority to silence his sister, and more than enough to make you clamp your jaws shut painfully tight. “You’re with child?”

It’s strange, but despite the inflection on his last word, you get the impression he isn’t asking you if you’re pregnant, but merely whether you’re ready to admit to the fact.

The hopelessness of it all dawns on you when you meet his enduring, gilded stare.

He knows.

And if Death knows, there’s little point in continuing your efforts of duping the other three. In spite of outward appearances and their frequent, often frightening disagreements, the Four Horsemen have a bond stronger than tungsten. So, with a head that suddenly feels weighed down by months of secrecy and deflection, you lower your gaze to the floor near his boots and give a slow, sombre nod.

It’s as though your little confirmation is all that they needed to lift the veil on any and all doubts.

The shadows they cast on your carpet suddenly start to tremble as an overhead light flickers, strobing on and off until it sputters weakly back to life and holds steady, albeit dimmer than it had been before.

The Horsemen seem to grow in size, muscled shoulders bulge like raised hackles and four sets of eyes flare with an ethereal light as they shift their weight, bearing down on you like toppling monoliths.

“I’m gonna kill ‘em,” Strife mutters venomously under his breath, “I’m gonna kill whatever bastard laid a finger on-”

“-W h o  t o u c h e d  y o u?” the eldest Horseman’s growl cuts him off. It’s guttural and animalistic, so much so that you can’t withhold a flinch. You could count on one hand the number of times Death has outwardly lost his temper, which makes it all the more alarming to witness.

Stumbling over your words for a beat, you keep your eyes fixed to the floor as the Old One stalks across the meagre living space towards you, his ominous shadow growing along the carpet to swallow you whole. When it seems he’s right on top of you, you finally blurt out, “N-Nobody!”

In hindsight, that wasn’t the most logical answer.

Fury – her vibrant hair whipping behind her like angry, coiling snakes - scoffs, tucking her arms firmly across her chest. “Nobody?” she parrots, “I’m no expert, but don’t these things usually involve two parties?”

“Great! Now she’s lying to us,” Strife barks, pacing back and forth behind you and throwing a hand up to rake the fingers of his metal gauntlet through his stiff, black hair, “I don’t believe this, we go off world for two weeks-!”

“Were you hurt?” War’s voice, though less jagged than Death’s, is pitched low enough to rumble through you until it resounds inside your chest. You can feel his presence behind you, too close for comfort, the living embodiment of rage and violence.

You suddenly fear for the man whose face and name you can’t recall.

“I… no,” you protest, hugging your elbows close, “It wasn’t anything like… like that. It was an accident! We were out drinking, and I-“

“DRINKING!?”

Your mouth snaps shut as Death lurches towards you, and you’re finally forced to tear your eyes off the carpet when his sinewy fingers slide around your biceps and he hauls you a foot off the ground, holding you up to his mask and subjecting you a shout that’s rife with unparalleled urgency. “You know what that does to a human’s inhibitions!” he demands.

His hands are gentle, neither hurting nor bruising the delicate skin on your bare arms, but the power behind even his gentlest grasp is frustratingly insurmountable.

You’ve never liked how easily he can manhandle you. “Yes, Death! I know what alcohol does!” you snap back, kicking your legs and trying to twist out of his grip, “I’m not a kid anymore, stop treating me like one! And put me down!”

You’re aware that your point is all a matter of perspective. For the Horsemen, there’ll always be some small part of them that continues to see you as a youngling. You’re human, after all. A hundred years wouldn’t even see a Nephilim out of adolescence. Not to mention that the Horsemen have all but declared you as one of them… One of theirs - an unconventional, human sibling they’ve taken into their fold.

It's not so easy for them to simply stop seeing you as their little sister, no matter how much you might wish they would sometimes.

As your retort fades into silence, Death blinks, recoiling his head slightly with wider eyes, and it will only occur to you later just how rare it is to make Death falter.

The other three, although their bodies still quiver with barely contained adrenaline, have fallen quiet whilst you stare down their eldest until at last, he lowers you gingerly to the floor, setting you safely on the carpet once again and retrieving his hands.

You’d never dare to say it aloud, but in that moment, something like shame flashes over the dark sockets of his mask.

“Why didn’t you tell us, kid?” Strife asks, the crux of his question tinged by badly concealed hurt.

“This, Strife,” you sigh, throwing your arms out towards he and his siblings, exasperated. Fury with her face set into a thunderous scowl. War’s metal gauntlets curled into bludgeoning fists. Even Strife is idly tracing a finger on the stock of Redemption in its holster, and Death – especially Death – whose ancient magics are still causing the lamps in your room to fade in and out…

Heaving another, immense sigh, you continue, “This is why I didn’t tell you.” Well. It’s one of the reasons, but at this point, it’s a fairly vital one. “I mean, look at you!”

Each Horseman shares a glance with one another.

“You’re all raring to go on a manhunt to find a guy who didn’t even do anything wrong!”

“Didn’t do anything wrong?” War grunts, teeth still bared despite following the lead of Death and reeling in his temper, if only slightly, “He mated with you-“

“Oh, hell, War, don’t say it like that,” Strife complains, grimacing under his visor.

“-and now you carry his child, and he has abandoned you both?”

Biting at the soft flesh inside your cheek, you withhold a frustrated groan and remind yourself that War’s sense of Honour is vastly inflated. The ‘father’ of your child’s ignorance won’t excuse his absence, not in War’s eyes.

Even so, you try to dissuade any ideas of retribution before they can gain traction.

“He didn’t abandon us, War. He probably doesn’t even remember I exist! Goodness knows I can hardly remember that night…” You trail off, lowering your gaze to the floor.

Death’s eyes are suddenly the hardest to meet. You recall your first introduction to Lilith; the self-proclaimed mother of all Nephilim, and subsequently the Horsemen themselves. You know of the demoness’s… reputation. You also know firsthand how much the Eldest Horseman despises her. You’re terrified Death will see something of Lilith in you, that you’d be so liberal with your own body as to end up with a child.

The inside of your eyelids start to burn. “And now everyone is gonna think I’m just some skank who went and got knocked-up by a stranger and… and-… They’re always gonna look at my kid and wonder who the father is. I don’t even know who the father is.”

There are tears prickling at your eyelashes, but you force your hands into fists at your sides, refusing to wipe them away lest your draw attention to them. The Horsemen see anyway.

Light blooms back to its full power across your apartment, your lamps stop trembling, and a pale finger crooks beneath your chin, tilting your head back until you’re peering up at a stoic mask of bone.

Death’s ebony hair falls in curtains around his face as he bends a little to speak to you in a hushed yet urgent tone. “He didn’t…” Hesitating, he draws in an unnecessary breath to fill dead lungs and alters his trajectory. “You were not forced…?”

You wish you didn’t know why that question is so important to Death, why the concept of consent means more to him than it might the others.

“No,” you reiterate miserably, “That’s one thing I do remember. I wanted, uh… it, at the time, a-and so did he. He didn’t know this would happen any more than I did.” You pause to lay a hand over your stomach, furrowing your brow as you give it a pensive stare and missing the way Death’s shoulders slump with relief. After a second or two, you hesitantly raise your chin to look him in the eye again, hoping that what little determination you can inject into your voice will hold strong. “… Look, I’m not proud of it, but it happened. I can’t change things… and… I’m keeping them. I’m sorry, but I’m keeping this baby.”

You hold your breath, expecting arguments, expecting a rebuttal or perhaps even a scoff or two.

“Why would you be sorry for that?” Strife pipes up instead.

It throws you off kilter. Pulling away from Death, you swivel around to frown uncertainly at War and his brother, fiddling with the hem of your jumper’s sleeve. “Well… I mean… I-I’m having the baby…“

When you don’t say anything further, War raises a hand and pulls down his hood, exposing the full extent of his wispy, white hair. “Yes?” he prompts, the unspoken ‘and?’ ringing clear as a bell.

“I’m having the… baby of a… of a man I don’t… know?” you finish slowly, glancing at each of them in turn.

“Big deal!” Strife announces so abruptly, you have to do a double-take, “You don’t need him to help you raise a little human! You’ve got us!”

Nodding her head, Fury adds, “Far be it from me to agree with Strife, but… in this case, he may be right.”

War grunts his own agreement, and when you throw an incredulous look at Death, you’re floored to see him dipping his head in concurrence as well.

“You’re…” Darting your tongue out to wet your dry lips, you squint at the eldest Horseman, asking, “You’re not angry?”

He’s quiet for some time, contemplative even as his gaze roves lower until it comes to a stop on your torso. Then, gently, he replies, “The only qualm I have is that you’ve been trying to bear this weight on your own two shoulders. And while I wish you had told us sooner, at least now we know how to help you.”

“Help me?” you utter, voice cracking.

Death’s eyes dance with a sudden fondness. “Well,” he replies, “As I’m sure Strife has told you repeatedly-“

“- you’re one of us,” said brother butts in, expertly finishing Death’s sentence and stepping up beside you to lay a heavy palm on your shoulder, “We take care of our own. Same goes for your kid.”

You’re too late to stop a choked noise from escaping the base of your throat, but before you can say anything, War steps forwards, towering over you as he pounds a solid, metal fist against his chest, directly over his heart in a show of allegiance.

“You and yours will always have the protection of the Four,” he proclaims.

“You… you don’t have to, you know,” you sniff, swiping a few fingers beneath your eyes, “I signed up for this baby, you guys didn’t. It’s okay if you don’t want to get involved because -“

“-Oh, don’t talk such nonsense,” Fury gruffly interjects, “You’re sorely mistaken if you think either one of us will be leaving your side for the foreseeable future.”

“Fury,” you laugh wetly, aiming a wobbly smile at her, “You mean that?”

The surly Horseman’s lip curls but she merely shrugs and retorts, “I may not care much for children, but someone will have to stick around to teach our youngling how to fight.”

Our youngling…

Your heart squeezes appreciatively, even if she might not have noticed the slip.

“That’s just her way of sayin’ she cares about children if it’s yours,” Strife’s voice murmurs in your ear, and with a gentle nudge at the small of your back, he pushes you towards the sofa his sister has vacated. If Fury hears him, she doesn’t dispute his words.

As you’re herded to sit down, War, ever the more practical of his siblings, is busy casting a rather dissatisfied look around your apartment, making a quick mental note to ramp up fortifications. He’ll have to schedule watches between himself and his siblings too…

“I can’t believe it,” you mutter, half to yourself, half to the Horsemen, sinking down among the cushions of your sofa and shaking your head, “I’ve been so worried about telling you guys I’m pregnant, and you’re just… okay with it.”

“As if we’d be anything else,” Death sighs, roving a quick look over you from head to toe. Squinting slightly, he adds, “Hmm… I’m not, however, okay that you can’t seem to keep food down lately. I take it that’s why you’ve been disappearing so suddenly of late?”

Giving him a sheepish nod, you shuffle to one side, allowing Strife to flop heavily onto the sofa next to you, his enormous thigh squashing you up against the arm rest. “I’ll go for more rations in a bit,” he announces, eager to provide.

“I can go,” you say, “They are for me, after all.”

Burly shoulders bristle in a display of faux authority as Strife instantly argues, “Nuh uh. You’re stayin’ right here where it’s safe.” He grumbles a nonsensical sound, then begrudgingly admits, “Hate you leavin’ at the best of times…”

Despite the niggle of exasperation that begs you to remind them you’re not helpless, just pregnant, you offer him a warm grin and bump your shoulder against his side, saying, “You’re going to make a great uncle, Strife.”

To say the Horseman’s mask almost flies off as he whips his torso around to face you would be an understatement.

You have to lean back, as though pushed away by the sheer intensity of his blazing stare. “What’d you say?” he breathes.

“I… oh, I, er…” Realising you may have overstepped, you swiftly attempt to backtrack. “I mean, that’s not what you have to be called, I was just-“

“-Uncle... That’s the brother of a human’s parent…” His eyes shine like the sun as they bore into you across the sofa. “Right?”

Uncertain, you quirk a brow at him. “Uh, yeah?”

He contemplates that for a second before he asks in a far smaller voice that almost doesn’t sound as if it belongs to the boisterous Horseman you know, “I’m your brother?”

“Of… course?” you blink, surprised that he’d need to even ask that question, “Of course you are. You said it yourself, I’m one of you. Sorry to say it, but that goes both ways. You’re my brother Strife. A-and if you’re okay with it… I’d like you to be this baby’s uncle.” Tearing your eyes off the sharpshooter whilst he none-too subtly coming apart at your side, you send a tentative look up at War, peering at him from under your lashes. “You too, big guy. But! Only if that’s okay with you? I just… want them to grow up knowing who their family is…”

War coughs into a mighty fist, hoping to hide the tiny smile that’s trying to bloom at the sides of his mouth, “In that case, it would be an honour to be acknowledged as the child’s ‘Uncle,’ until my dying breath.”

Always so serious. Giving your head a fond shake, you flash their sister a knowing look and call, “What about Aunt Fury? You on board?”

“Hmph, well,” she shrugs one shoulder, turning to glare at the wall, “It… has a nice ring to it, I suppose.”

You’re not fooled. The way she’s keeps having to wrestle the corners of her lips back into a terse line speaks volumes.

“Of course, I haven’t forgotten about you, Death,” you say, at last addressing the Reaper who is watching the proceeding with a calm, reserved expression. At least until he catches the little smirk lifting your cheeks. “Or should I say, Grandpa Death.”

At once, the Nephilim’s expression flattens, unimpressed. “If you introduce me to that child as ‘Grandpa Death,’ perhaps I won’t be sticking around.”

“Ah, you love it, Gramps, don’t try to deny it,” Strife teases, leaning in to stage-whisper in your ear, “Look at him, I don’t think I’ve ever seen the miserable bastard this happy.”

You have to stifle a snicker for Death’s sake. True to form though, while his eldest brother’s fearsome scowl persists when it lingers on Strife, it soon grows soft again upon turning back to you.

And in that one look, shared between a human and the eldest surviving Nephilim, you realise categorically that Death is with you. All of them are. They aren’t worried about your reputation. They won’t concern themselves with the idle gossip of your neighbours.

They’re family, as is the small spark of life steadily growing inside your stomach.

And father or no, your child is still going to grow up under the watchful eye of the Universe's most diligent and protective guardians.

[theharrowing]

Devil with the Mint Hair 🍃 3: Pretty good

His pull out game is strong but your hatred for him is stronger.

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🍃 Yoongi x Female Reader

🍃 word count: 7.7k

🍃 enemies to fuck buddies, brother’s best friend, explicit smut, nsfw, 18+

🍃 warnings: alcohol consumption (mc is tipsy); talk of hiring sex workers; mention of masturbation with sex toys; mention of Yoongi fucking Jimin; use of "baby girl" & "submissive little fuck doll"; mc is a brat; dirty talk and filthy smut (safe word establishment; mc does not get undressed; hair gripping - no description of hair style or length; being handled roughly - pushed around, gripped by head and throat; face slapping; rough, messy blow job & face fucking; a lot of drool; spitting; rough sex; pussy slapping; cunnilingus, fingering, & ass eating; multiple orgasms; overstimulation); they do not kiss once; post-nut regret; possibly catching a feeling??? (lol, as if.)

🍃 note: this scene takes place in America and there is a brief interaction with a bartender but i didn't specify what language anyone is speaking or where these characters live because it seems very unimportant for a fic like this lol. i know nobody is here for the scraps of plot.

🍃 beta read by @neoneunnajimin​

🍃 posted oct. 2023 | read on ao3

The summer sun is hot and oppressive, and you sit under the awning of a poolside bar, hair dripping from taking a swim, with a towel around your hips, waiting impatiently for the bartender to return with a blended margarita – desperate for the inevitable brain freeze, if it means you get to cool down. 

Why your brother chose to celebrate his September birthday in Las Vegas, of all places, is beyond you, and you try your hardest not to melt against the high bar chair and its tiny little wooden seat back. You only agreed to come because he is your brother, and you would never miss his birthday for the world. 

And you assumed that he and the guys would be so busy gambling and going to strip clubs – and whatever else men in their twenties do – that you would not get stuck running into a certain someone too much, despite foolishly agreeing to meet up, should the possibility arise. And you were right, for the most part. 

Night one consisted of dinner and drinks, and then the guys went off to various casinos on the strip to test their luck. You meandered through your hotel's casino, cradling a drink while taking in all the sights and sounds, ultimately becoming both underwhelmed and overwhelmed, and retiring to your room to sink into the jacuzzi tub. 

The following day, the guys slept in late while you went to breakfast, and then you joined them for some day drinking and a walk along the strip. And although your sworn enemy did make an appearance each time, with your brother around, he barely acknowledged your presence – something that you have found to be both a relief and somewhat infuriating. 

He has also been preoccupied with a pretty boy with bright orange hair named Jimin, and you find yourself wondering, whenever you see him, whether he is the hookup your enemy mentioned to you over text. 

Not that you want that devil to acknowledge you, nor do you want to care about who he fucks – after the stunt he pulled the last time you saw him, you find it impossible to look him in the eyes for more than a few seconds. But it still feels strange to be ignored by someone who made you cum so hard – a thought that makes you cringe.

You surmise that the guys had a long night at the strip club because it is almost noon, and you have not heard from your brother. Today has been set aside as a sleep-in-and-recharge day, anyway, so you have no plans until dinner, which is how you came to be at the large outdoor pool, perched at the bar without the expectation of running into anyone. Perhaps you should have rethought your plan and gone to someone else's expansive outdoor pool, but now is not the time for weighing the could-have-beens.

Once the bright blue drink in a tall, curvy glass is set before you, you sit high in your seat, smiling as you take hold of the chilled glass and wrap your lips around the neon pink straw, sucking in the ice-cold concoction that sends a shiver down your spine with a flavor that you can only describe as boozy blue.

"God, that's good," you mutter to yourself, rolling your eyes back with joy and lolling your head as a frigid rush works its way through your body, aided by your damp bathing suit. 

"Damn," a familiar voice rasps from behind, making you jump, "what do they put in those things?"

You don't need to turn to see that Yoongi has sat to your right, but you do, quickly taking in his naked torso and black swim shorts before turning your attention back to your drink, putting the straw between your lips and noting that he is dressed to swim but still dry. 

As much as you try to ignore his presence, you can feel Yoongi's eyes on you, and you do your best to ignore the way your skin has broken into goosebumps and your face warms. You do not like him, and you hate how your body responds to his presence.

Yoongi drawls a petulant, "Wow, not even gonna say hi to me, huh?" 

You roll your eyes, take a deep, chilling sip of blue, and turn your attention toward him, doing your best to appear wholly inconvenienced. Then, with wide, incredulous eyes and a fake smile, you say, "Hi, Yoongi," as sarcastically as possible. 

Yoongi snickers, then opens his mouth to retaliate, but the bartender returns and asks if he would like something, forcing his attention away as he points to your drink and says, "I'll have whatever that is."

The bartender cheerily says, "Blue raspberry margarita, coming right up!" and walks off. 

Yoongi turns his attention back to you to mutter, "Sounds mildly horrifying; I can't wait," with a grin.

Feeling annoyed and disinterested in whatever this man is playing at, you blurt, "Why are you here, Yoongi?"

"My best friend's birthday," Yoongi responds, running a hand through his short, mint-green hair, and sounding bored. "Why else?"

You sigh and roll your eyes, then focus on stabbing the pink straw into your blue drink. "I mean here, sitting next to me. There are other bars out here, and hundreds more along the strip. Shouldn’t you be preoccupied by that orange-haired guy who clings to you, instead?”

When Yoongi asks, "Why wouldn't I want to be here, sitting next to you?” his voice is much lower and much closer than you expect, and you flinch, turning your sights back to him. 

Yoongi leans on the bar top, elbow only inches away, and his gaze is piercing. Only a small floral bikini top covers your upper half, and your leg sticks out from the slit in your towel enough that when Yoongi's gaze roves slowly and hungrily over your body, you feel exposed. Anxiety crashes through you, but so does arousal, and you clear your throat and take another frozen sip. 

“And anyway,” Yoongi continues the moment you turn away, “Jimin is still asleep, and likely will be for several more hours.”

The bartender returns and sets Yoongi's drink before him, and you watch from the corner of your eye as his nimble, long fingers delicately cradle the glass and slide it toward himself. He sits forward, takes a sip, and then grumbles out something unintelligible under the sound of your pounding heart. 

"Hmm?" you ask, turning your attention to him. 

"Not as orgasmic as you made it seem, but not too bad."

With another roll of your eyes, you mutter, "You are so annoying."

Truth be told, sitting out here with Yoongi is not as bad as you would have thought. Perhaps it is because he is holding back from leaning too far into your personal space and wearing you down – likely because the two of you are surrounded by others, and there is a slight chance that your brother or one of the other guys could come find the two of you. Or, perhaps the dry Vegas heat is making you too worn out both physically and emotionally to care. 

Yoongi hums, and you turn your attention toward him without fully looking at him, continuing to suck at your melting drink. One thing you will give Vegas credit for is even these shitty slushies are potent enough that you are already feeling a little tipsy. 

"You seem calm today," Yoongi muses. "Did you also bring back an escort last night? Get the stress fucked out of you?"

Everything Yoongi says hits you like several small trucks, and you open and close your mouth, attempting to begin several sentences but feeling at a loss for which detail to hone in on. Finally, you settle on the most obvious bit and ask, "Escort? What?"

Yoongi laughs, and it sounds almost mocking and sardonic, so you look at him, finding him chewing on his bright yellow straw with a lopsided smile. "Why do you think the guys are so worn out? I've been keeping them busy."

"You've…what?" 

Another laugh, but this one comes from the guts, deep and amused. "What? We're in Vegas, baby girl! Gotta make sure to give the guys the full experience."

"You're lying," you mutter, straw wedged between your teeth, doing your best not to respond to the sound of him calling you baby girl out loud. 

Has Yoongi really been hiring sex workers to stay with the guys? All the while you've been using a vibrator and feeling too small in your gigantic suite. You have nothing against the notion of sex work, but knowing that your brother…a violent shudder runs through you as you attempt to shut out the thought.

"Ha, come on, do you really think I would lie about something like this? We found a fun little club not too far from here, and the guys took a liking to some of the dancers. Once we found out the girls can be rented for the night, that was that."

"Wow," is all you can mutter, because what else do you add? Must be nice? Thanks for the invite? Nothing feels appropriate. And anyway, what if Yoongi is lying?

"And what's the name of your favorite girl?" you ask, attempting to play it cool, taking another deep sip of blue before turning your eyes to Yoongi, whose gaze is firm.

The way he regards you is unyielding, and you squirm in your seat, finding it hard to hold eye contact. Somehow this is the most civil conversation you have ever had with Yoongi in person, and you find yourself nearly charmed by his presence. That is, until you recall how he showed up at your door knowing full well that your brother was not home so he could smoke you out and pressure you into rough sex on your bedroom floor, of all fucking places. 

And you almost break the spell and let your anger rise, feeling the sudden urge to chug back your drink and get the fuck away from this demon. But you cannot deny the way he made you feel, and you would be lying if you said you would not want to feel it again, especially after agreeing to hook up if the opportunity presented itself. It seems as if it has, in fact, done just that.

Although you are at war with your thoughts and not fully set on running off, you do slurp more than half of the remnants of your drink, which goes down easy now that it has more or less melted into a boozy syrup. 

"Well?" you challenge, curious what kinds of escorts Yoongi has been bringing back to his room. You wonder if they like it just as rough as you do. 

Yoongi tongues the inside of his mouth, then chuckles. "Nah, I haven't been partaking. Only supplying."

At this, you roll your eyes, once more. Why is Yoongi suddenly acting like a prude? "Sure, okay," you say incredulously. 

"I'm serious!" Yoongi insists, making you laugh more. 

"There's nothing wrong with hiring sex workers, Yoongi," you say with raised eyebrows, almost defensively.

"I fucking know that," he bites back, "I'm the one hiring them!"

"Okay, then—"

"Why would I need to hire someone? You're right down the hall."

Now you know he is fucking with you, and you hate to admit it, but it makes you annoyed – a little upset, even. If Yoongi has been preoccupying the guys, why hasn’t he shown up at your door? He must be messing with you. 

"Shut the fuck up," you grit with your straw between your teeth before sucking the rest of your drink back. The straw gurgles loudly against the bottom of the glass as you angrily seek every last drop of tequila and blue. 

"I'm serious," Yoongi responds, close. 

When you regard him, he looks serious, but you are certain that he must be toying with you, and you begin to slide from the tall chair to the ground, stretching your toes to meet the rough gunite while your shifting weight makes the chair scrape loudly backward. 

There is laughter in Yoongi's voice when he asks, "Wait, where are you going?"

You sigh and stare at Yoongi's half-empty drink rather than at himself, contemplating how much you even want to reveal. You do not have feelings for him, for one thing, but you are also not sure whether he has just been messing with you and lying about wanting to hook up again. It almost feels like you are the butt of some joke.

"I'm not going to sit here and be made fun of," you say, pointedly not meeting his gaze before you turn to walk back into the hotel. 

"Wait," Yoongi says, and before you have a chance to register the word, his hand is on your arm, tugging you back. "There has definitely been a misunderstanding."

You are surprised to find that Yoongi is standing, and now that you are on your feet, the alcohol hits you at once, spinning you somewhat off your axis as you twist out of Yoongi's hold and frown at his eager expression. You stumble slightly back on flip-flopped feet and straighten out, giving him your best glare.

"Look, I'm not interested in your games, okay? I know you enjoy being an asshole for fun, so cut the shit, Yoongi."

Yoongi actually looks a bit upset before he schools his features and scoffs, taking a step back and reaching for his drink. He shrugs, then mutters, "Fine, be a fucking brat."

The whiplash is astounding, and you stand your ground while trying to figure out just what the fuck is going on. Yoongi sucks his cheeks in to finish the last of his tequila syrup, then he walks past you with an air of nonchalance that makes you turn on your toes and follow him in a huff. You were going to have the last word; who does he think he is?

As the two of you approach the open door of the hotel, Yoongi turns to glance over his shoulder and scoffs. "What? Tagging along so you can bitch at me in the elevator?"

"Oh, fuck off," you respond louder than necessary now that the two of you are in the crowded carpeted hallway and the raucous sounds of the pool are quieted behind concrete and glass. "I'm going back to my room."

"Sure you don't want to come back to mine?" Yoongi asks over his shoulder as you round a corner into a nearly empty hallway, walking deeper into the hotel. 

"What?" you all but shout.

"Oh, come on," he laughs, turning to walk backward just long enough to say, "I saw how jealous you got over the prospect of me fucking someone else, despite knowing full well that I do fuck someone else, regularly. Regardless, the guys are all asleep, which means an opportunity has presented itself."

"I was not—" you begin as his gaze rakes down your body, and he turns back around.

"Admit it," Yoongi drawls, taking a corner to the left into a small elevator lobby with eight gold doors. He presses a call button, then turns to fully face you. "You can't get me out of your head, can you? I've been watching you sneak glances all weekend, baby girl; you're a terrible actor."

How can one man be so exasperating? As you wait for one of the elevators to get close, you stare up at the lights above the nearest one, hoping that by some chance two of them open so that you are not stuck in a compact square carriage with him. 

But as one of the elevators behind you dings, and not a single person joins you inside, you realize all too soon that you are trapped with him, and only him. Yoongi steps in first and holds his hand in front of the door to keep it from closing, and you slide into the small space and step into the furthest corner from him, staring at the gold doors as they close, then watching in the peripheral as Yoongi hits the number 32 – the floor you both stay on. 

"So?" Yoongi drawls, causing your entire body to break out in goosebumps – though you reason it is likely from your bathing suit still being damp and has nothing to do with that demon's deep, inviting voice. 

"So, what?" you bite back, staring up at the little screen above the button panel that flashes with which floor it passes. 

"You gonna come to my room and let us both have what we want, or what? Nice and rough, just like you asked for.”

With a scoff, you cross your arms over your chest, attempting to find warmth and to cover how hard your nipples are under your bathing suit top. Yoongi steps closer, and in this enclosed space, you can smell hints of musk and cologne, and maybe something sweet, like a lingering trace of shampoo or a body wash. 

"Or maybe we should go to yours," he suggests, deep and quiet. "Your room is further from the others…don't need any of them hearing you screaming my name while I tame the brat out of you."

"You are insufferable," you grit under your breath, though your words do not sound as firm as you would like. 

Yoongi hums and steps impossibly closer, then says, "I know you can't stop thinking about me, baby girl. Just give in."

As soon as the elevator dings and the gold doors slide open, he side steps far away from you, giving you space to exit and begin the hurried trek toward your room. From the elevator lobby, yours is to the left and down a little, whereas the group of rooms the guys are staying in are just off to the right. If you did let Yoongi fuck you – which you are not – doing so in your room would be the wiser of the two choices.

You round the corner to the left and walk quickly down to your door. To your chagrin, Yoongi's flip flops smack behind you, and you sigh and let your head droop back, feeling too tipsy and maybe a little too horny to be allowing him to come to your room. You reach your door and fish your key from where it's wedged between your towel and hip, then turn and scowl, looking over Yoongi's shoulder to make sure nobody else is in the hallway to see the two of you together. 

"Go back to your room, Yoongi," you say. Your heart pounds the closer he gets, and you do your best to keep your eyes on his face, but he is shirtless, and he looks really good with his lean but defined muscles on display. 

"Is that really what you want?" he asks, stopping a foot away and leaning into the wall. 

"Yes!" you whisper-yell, insistent. You glance over his shoulder once more, then say, "The last thing I want is to get caught with you."

Yoongi's face brightens, and you know in an instant that you have fucked up. "Oh, so you do want me to fuck your brains out, but you're worried about getting caught?"

"That's not—"

Yoongi raises an eyebrow and does not wait for you to finish your sentence, drawling, "I think it is. You already said as much over text."

Although your hand is lifted halfway to the key scanner, it is too far for it to detect the key and allow you entrance. You raise your eyebrows and use the hand holding the key to wave him off, muttering, "Shoo! Get the fuck out of here. I don't want to be seen with you."

Yoongi tongues the inside of his cheek, grabs your hand, and forces you to hold the key against the scanner, then reaches with his other hand to open the door and shove the two of you inside. Everything happens in a flash, and you barely have a chance to get your bearings, muttering, "Yoongi, what the f—" as you are ushered into the entrance of your hotel room, and Yoongi is closing the door behind the two of you. 

"Nobody can see us in here," Yoongi says as he steps out of his sandals and walks into your room, adding, "problem solved," over his shoulder. 

Your hotel room is fairly tidy, with only a few small sprawling piles of clothing and beauty products here and there. But you definitely left a dildo and vibrator lying tangled in the sheets of the bed from toying yourself last night, and you kick out of your sandals and scurry over to the bed, hoping to get to them before Yoongi sees them, finding him holding the small purple bullet vibrator between his fingers. 

"Naughty girl," Yoongi teases when you come into view, and you can hear him clicking on the power button multiple times to make the buzzing louder and stronger. 

"Put that down," you insist, closing the space between the two of you and reaching for it. 

"Let me use this on you," Yoongi mutters, dropping his arm down and brushing the vibrating toy over your thigh, right in between the slit of the towel. 

"Yoongi!" you yelp, hopping backward and reaching for his arm, but Yoongi just grins and holds the toy behind his back, flexing his arm as you attempt to yank on it. 

"Please," Yoongi asks softly, flashing a lopsided smile, and you shove at his chest and walk away, determined to put space between the two of you. 

Given how fast Yoongi can make you cum, the prospect of him fucking you while using your toy does excite you, but it also worries you. This man would turn you into a pile of mush in no time. Luckily, he turns the toy off and tosses it back onto your bed, toward the pillows. 

“We need to establish boundaries,” you say, walking over to a long mirror near the front entrance of the room to check your reflection. Although you appear tired from a combination of tipsiness, heat, and genuine exhaustion, you look good enough to let this demon perceive you. 

When you turn back to Yoongi, he is sitting on the corner of your bed, arms relaxed at his sides, waiting for you to continue. 

“Things like hitting, spitting, and hair-pulling are fine, but I get to tell you to stop if it becomes too much.”

“We’ll establish a safe word,” Yoongi says. 

A thrill rushes over you as you consider what your safe word could be, and you formulate an idea, unable to hold back from grinning. Yoongi must take notice, because he sits higher, raising his eyebrows curiously. 

“The guy with the orange hair,” you say, approaching Yoongi, whose eyes widen as you speak, “is he your regular hookup?”

Yoongi smiles sharply, then nods his head slightly as he says, “He is.”

“And he knows you plan to fuck me? Or are you doing it behind his back?”

Yoongi’s smile turns wide and playful. “He knows.”

“Hmm,” you respond, stepping close enough that he could reach out and touch you. “My safe word is Jimin.”

Yoongi tongues the inside of his cheek, then sits back, placing his palms against the white comforter on the bed. “Really?” 

You chuckle as you nod and say, “Yup.”

“You’re going to scream Jimin’s name if you want me to slow down or stop?”

“Correct.”

Yoongi laughs, clearly amused, then he nods and says, “Alright. Works for me. Any other boundaries? Things you’re not into?”

Truthfully, at this moment, there is nothing you can think of. So you shrug and say, “Nothing as of now…but I’ll tell you if that changes.”

“You’ll moan my hookup’s name if you change your mind,” Yoongi mutters with a smirk. 

“Yup.”

Yoongi rolls his shoulders and then sits up straight before slowly beginning to stand. You take a step back, feeling nervousness sink in over the fact that this is really happening, especially with the way Yoongi stands tall with his shoulders square and his expression flat. 

“Repeat your safe word for me,” Yoongi commands. 

“Jimin,” you respond, much softer than intended. 

The corner of Yoongi’s mouth rises for a split second, then he squints as if he is disgusted by what he sees. Instinctively, you take another step back. 

Yoongi is quick as a serpent, hand snapping up to grip onto your jaw and make you gasp – startling you. 

“Where do you think you’re going?” he asks in a sharp snarl. 

Although you move your lips, all you are able to mutter is vowels, unsure what to say. 

“You’re mine, baby girl. You don’t so much as move unless I command it.”

Although you are aware that your safe word negates his statement, your heart thrums heavily behind your ribs at the idea of being at Yoongi’s mercy. You told him you wanted it rough – wanted it to hurt – and now that you stand before him, trepidation sinks deep. 

Yoongi continues to grip firmly to your chin while his free hand rips the towel from around your hips and chucks it to the side, making you gasp and flinch. The bikini you wear is small and still a bit damp, and you shiver as the air hits your bare thighs and tummy. Your breaths are heavy, causing a quick rise and fall of your chest, and you already feel a bit dazed from being handled his way. 

“Look at you,” Yoongi growls with a sharp, hungry gaze, lips upturned. “You can talk all the shit you want about how much you hate me, but I can see the way you want me, baby girl."

His grasp on your jaw is firm, and when he begins to pull his arm back, toward the bed, you step with him, moving slowly as his body rotates. Yoongi smirks razor-sharp, eyes burning with excitement, and you hate how absolutely right he is. You want him real bad. 

"Wanna choke on my cock while sitting on the bed, or down on your knees?" Yoongi asks, leaning nice and close, wafting warm, sugar-sweet breath into your face. 

"On the bed," you mutter, voice hoarse and weak. 

Yoongi grips your jaw ever so slightly, then pushes you down into the bed, causing you to gasp and scramble as you keep from sliding off the edge, hands gripping onto the white comforter. 

"Not eager to get back onto the floor with me?" he chides, but all you can do is stare upward as he looms over you, fingers working the velcro fly of his black swim shorts. 

Yoongi wastes no time pushing his shorts to the floor, revealing a half-hard and inviting cock. Last time, you hardly got a good look at him, but this time, it is all you see as Yoongi grips onto the back of your hair and yanks you forward, practically shoving himself against your lips. 

"Don't be shy, baby girl," Yoongi groans, using his other hand to gently squeeze your throat. You look up at Yoongi without tilting your head, greeted by a dark stare that gives you chills as he adds, "Let's see what that pretty, bratty fucking mouth of yours can do."

With a deep, fortifying breath, you sit high on the bed, hands still gripping the comforter, and you run your tongue over the shaft, just below his cockhead. His skin is smooth with a faint soapy smell, and you let your eyes flutter as your lips close over the head, wetting the skin. 

"We don't have all fucking day," Yoongi practically growls as he presses your head close to his pelvis. 

With a snarl, you glance up through your lashes, saying, "We quite literally do have all day," lips still pressed against him. In a show of brattiness, you add, "So do you want it, or are you going to keep being an asshole?"

Yoongi releases the hand on your hair and slaps you against the cheek. It is not hard enough to sting, but it is enough to make you gasp, eyes wide as you let the slight tingle settle over your skin. Although you would ordinarily be ready to fight a man for slapping you, in this setting, it excites you – makes you want to act like even more of a pain in his ass. 

"Too far?" Yoongi asks, expression still hard but with a hint of softness hiding around the edges.

If this were anyone else, you would bat your lashes and tell him you liked it – that it felt exciting enough to set a spark in you that is threatening to light a proper fire. But this is Yoongi, so you scoff and say, "I didn't call my safe word, did I?"

Yoongi chuckles in response with the edge of his mouth tugging into a sharp sneer. Then he slaps you again, this time hard enough to sting, and he grips your throat and tugs you against him, forcing your forehead to crash against his tummy while the head of his cock presses into your lips and teeth. 

"Suck my fucking dick or I'm leaving," he commands. 

With a roll of your eyes, you grumble, "So moody."

You can hear the beginning of a response, but you open wide and swallow Yoongi as far as you can take him, letting the tip lightly touch your throat. Yoongi groans, tightening his grip on your neck before relaxing it while the other firmly grabs the back of your head.  

Without warning, Yoongi bucks his hips, thrusting deep. You gag, but not badly enough to have to pull off, swallowing the feeling while he pulls back and thrusts forward again. And again, pulling out, slamming deep, and pulling out, clearly not setting a rhythm so much as testing your limits. 

You lift your hands and settle them on his hips, surprised by how soft his skin feels beneath your fingertips, and when he pulls back again, you take in a deep enough breath through your nose. Although Yoongi is forceful, his grip on you is loose – a small mercy considering you are already drooling and beginning to cry.

"Damn, baby girl, your throat feels amazing," Yoongi rasps, voice coming out surprisingly desperate. 

As he sets a pace, you settle into the pattern of breathing in time with his thrusts, and Yoongi continues to hold onto your head and neck while he fucks your face. Although you have given a sloppy blow job or two in the past, this is the first time you have allowed someone to be in control. 

Tears catch in your eyelashes and fall, and you glance up, watching as Yoongi grits his teeth and knits his brow, clearly holding himself back from losing some semblance of control – whether it is the urge to fuck harder or to cum already, you can only presume. 

When his eyes meet yours, he moans, allowing his eyelids to flutter, causing your strong foundation of hating his fucking guts to crumble just a little. Yoongi looks sexy while falling apart, sweat glistening on his shoulders and chest, which rise and fall with each breath he takes. 

"You have no idea how fucking good this feels," Yoongi mutters, hissing as his cock presses in nice and deep, causing thick drool to build. 

The sounds that come from you are wet and pornographic, forced from your throat. You attempt to hum in response to his praise, but the sound is garbled and lost. Not that he needs to hear your sweet utterances, anyway; what would that do for his ego?

When Yoongi pulls all the way out, it surprises you. You lurch slightly, your mouth following the movement while your lungs attempt to adjust to a full intake of air. Yoongi moves his hand from the back of your head and slaps you across the cheek, making you whimper. 

Drool coats your lips and chin, tears streak down your cheeks, and the way Yoongi looks down at you is practically reverent. You wonder what he could possibly be thinking – Min Yoongi does not look at you like that. 

Thankfully, in a blink, the expression is gone, replaced by something much sharper. Yoongi reaches down and yanks at your swim top, forcing your breasts to spill in a jerking motion. Too stunned to respond, you sit while Yoongi roughly palms at your chest, calloused hands against soft, sensitive skin. 

Yoongi squeezes and slaps your breasts, giving your nipples a pinch with one alternating hand while he continues holding you firmly by the throat. You do your best not to react too loudly, huffing and sighing without moaning; you want Yoongi to really work to get a reaction out of you. With how cocky he is, you expect he will have no trouble doing so.

Without warning, Yoongi shoves you onto your back, fully releasing you, and sending you crashing against the comforter. You scramble, legs spreading as you lift one in an attempt to get into any position that might be useful, but Yoongi bends and grabs your ass, yanking it off the edge of the bed and pressing in a way that lifts your hips slightly, causing your legs to flail and spread. He yanks your swimsuit bottom to the side, bends just enough to spit on you, and then he rubs the tip of his dick against the spit, over your clit and labia before he spears you nice and deep. 

The stretch makes you cry out and squeeze your eyes tight, gripping the comforter and attempting to find a position to hold your legs. Yoongi presses and slightly twists you so that one leg is bent and somewhat hanging downward and the other is lifted high in the air, and he sets a brutal pace, fucking you hard and deep before you can wrap your head around anything.

"Holy fuck!" you scream, pleasure-pain so intense, you struggle to breathe. 

"So tight," Yoongi moans, pressing his weight into you even more, making your leg muscles burn and ache. 

All you can do is lay and take what Yoongi gives you, doing your best to relax your muscles while he fucks you harder and better than anyone has before. You said you wanted it rough, and you are not disappointed. With each deep thrust, you chase your high quickly. 

Yoongi reaches with one hand and roughly rubs over your clit, giving your pussy gentle slaps that send you hurtling over the edge. Your moans turn into sobs, back bowing from the bed as you build and build and then crash. 

"That's it, baby girl," Yoongi grits, fingers working your clit in more practiced movements. "Show me how fast I can make you cum."

"Sh-sh-shut up," you grumble, head digging back into the comforter. Orgasm washes over you, threatening to drown you in its undertow, and you sob and moan, hands tensing and releasing as your legs tremble at their awkward angles. 

Yoongi pulls all the way out before you finish, shoving your legs down and forcing you to roll over. You move in a haphazard tangle of limbs, your body both shimmering from its high and feeling unfulfilled.

As you get onto your stomach, you drag-crawl up the bed just enough to prevent your knees from hanging uncomfortably, glad when the bed dips and Yoongi follows you. Both hands grip your ass cheeks, pulling the material of your bathing suit and causing the fabric to dig into your skin. 

Yoongi slides back in and presses his hands firmly on your ass and lower back, pinning you down while his thrusts make the mattress bounce. You feel dizzy as Yoongi fucks you deep, and when he moves his hands to anchor beside your hips, you bounce even harder. 

One hand presses down on the side of your head and pushes your face into the mattress, and although it does not hurt, the pressure is enough to make you feel almost floaty and perfectly used. You are so close to cuming again, and when Yoongi leans low, warm breath ghosting over your face, you close your eyes. 

"This rough enough for you?" he asks, voice raspy and enticing. 

You practically scream yes and divulge just how good he makes you feel – how you will likely never be fucked this good by anyone else. But you choose to hold onto the praise for another day. 

"It's pretty good," you manage to mutter between unrelenting slaps of skin against skin. 

Yoongi scoffs. "Pretty good," he grits, mostly to himself. 

Then he spits on the side of your mouth, causing you to scowl. Yoongi removes the hand from your head and rubs his fingers over the saliva, smearing it over your lips and cheek while his hips continue their attack. 

"You look so good, all messy," he says with a playful tone. "Nothing but a submissive little fuck doll for me to use as I please."

Yoongi sits up, grips you by the hips, and speeds his pace, causing every muscle in your body to fight between wanting to tense and relax. You chase your next high and breakneck speeds, babbling nonsense as Yoongi uses you just as promised. 

You nearly cum just as Yoongi pulls out and releases his hold. With an impatient, frustrated groan, you bury your face into the blanket while Yoongi's weight shifts and reaches under you to grab your hips. Hot breath follows a warm wet tongue against your pussy, and you moan loud and eager, doing your best to pop your ass out and give him as much access to you as possible as a new rush of pleasure takes hold. 

Yoongi buries his face into you and puts his whole jaw into devouring your cunt, lips and tongue working you over in broad, sloppy movements. Remnants of the high you were chasing before build quickly. And when his tongue moves to your asshole and he plunges two fingers into your pussy, thumb rubbing over your clit, the dam breaks. 

Gripping the comforter, you squeal and moan, feeling wave after intense wave flow through you. Yoongi hums and groans as he tongue fucks your ass, fingers and thumb rubbing over your sweet spots. As soon as your high dissipates, you feel another racing to take its place. 

This time, when he pulls away before you can cum, you feel relief. You do your best to relax and catch your breath, feeling your entire body tremble and sink into the mattress. 

"Already going limp on me," Yoongi teases, pressing into your hips to make you roll around to your back again. 

“Making me dizzy,” you complain as you flop over, legs spreading uselessly, plopping down to the mattress. 

Your bathing suit top is even more askew, breasts hanging past the thin cups that have shifted, but you do not care. This is exactly how you wanted to be fucked – rushed, rough, and without any preamble or romance. 

“You like it when I play with your ass,” Yoongi teases, lips pulled into an obnoxious smirk. 

“Shut up,” you complain, rolling your heavy, tired eyes. 

Yoongi spreads your thighs with both palms and spits with enough force onto your clit that it makes you flinch. One hand stays pressed into your thigh while the other pumps and lines up his cock. 

How it still feels so incredible when he spears you open is a mystery; your body should be used to it by now, but instead, the stretch feels overwhelming, making you moan and arc off the comforter. 

“Should let Jimin and I double penetrate you,” Yoongi grits between his teeth as he pulls back and slams forward. 

“Oh my god!” you scream as Yoongi grips your hips and drives his cock into you so hard, your body trembles and jiggles with each perfect punch of his hips. 

Although the prospect of actually meeting Jimin does interest you, and it does feel good when Yoongi plays with your ass, double penetration – specifically anal sex –  is not something you are ready for. But you are unable to voice your trepidation at the moment, mouth only capable of sputtering nonsense between sobs and moans, which you are no longer capable of holding back. 

Yoongi leans, deepening his thrusts, and he slots two fingers into your mouth, pressing on your tongue and forcing you to drool. His fingers taste like you, heady and ever so slightly tangy, and he grips onto your jaw nice and tight while each drag of his cock threatens to send you into a new dimension of existence. 

Your eyes flutter, and you wonder if it is possible for your soul to slip from your body. You feel tingly and elevated into clouds – like nothing in the world exists but the two of you tangled in this sardonic dance. 

"Fuck, I won't last much longer," Yoongi groans, and you practically thank the heavens. 

At this rate, if Yoongi does not cum soon, you might risk actually wanting to see him more often. You might find yourself thinking about him while he is away, and, god forbid, wanting to invite him over to do this again. 

"Can I cum inside you?" Yoongi asks, voice breaking around the edges. 

You attempt to mutter, "Absolutely not," around his fingers, but the sounds come out jumbled and drool runs down your cheek. 

Luckily, Yoongi seems to understand, and he slides his fingers from your mouth, then pulls all the way out and begins to stroke himself off with his drool-covered hand. Although you find it hard to keep your eyes open, you cannot help but stare. 

Yoongi kneels over you, head tipped back with his throat bobbing as he chases the last of his high. He moans loud and unabashed, sounding and looking far better than you care to admit, with his mint-colored hair hanging over his forehead in sweaty little stalactites. He trembles as his cum sprays from his glistening cock, covering your thigh and hip, and as he squeezes his tip to get the last remaining drops out, he falls slightly forward, bracing himself with his free hand. 

"God damn," Yoongi groans, head drooping low. "I knew you would feel good but that was insane."

The urge to tell Yoongi to shut up is strong, but you find you cannot get the words out. All you can do is stare as he catches his breath. You wonder how you have never noticed how broad his shoulders are before, eyes tracing the lines of muscle and bone. Briefly, you even wonder if you could have a crush on someone like him, before you heavy-blink and shake your head, forcing the thought away.

You hum in response to Yoongi's words, delayed because you are stuck in your head. Of course, you would be thinking thoughts about a man who makes you feel this good – but that is all they are, thoughts. Yoongi is an idiot, at the end of the day, who is best friends with your brother, and something like this cannot become a regular occurrence. Surely, once you have come down from your various highs, you will be right back to hating him. 

"Alright," Yoongi groans, finally meeting your eye while he slides off the edge of the bed, into a standing position. "This was fun. Thanks for the pussy."

"Whatever," you grumble, finally attempting to move your bathing suit back into place before realizing you still have Yoongi's cum drying on your fucking hip. 

"Next time, I want to bring Jimin. You'll love him, trust me."

With a sigh, you glance around the room, then remember there is a box of tissues sitting on the bathroom counter. "There is definitely not going to be a next time," you respond as you begin to attempt to roll into a position that does not make the cum trickle onto the bed. 

"You always say that," Yoongi teases, pulling his shorts up, "but I know you'll be thinking about me after this. I saw the way you drifted, baby girl. You were having an out of body experience while I fucked you nice and hard."

"Alright, fuck off," you complain, sitting up and untying the still-damp bathing suit from your chest. Post-nut regret settles deep the more he eggs you on, and it is beginning to annoy the shit out of you. Why must he speak? All of this would be much more pleasant if he would just fuck you and go.

Yoongi turns and walks away without another word. You close your eyes and take a deep breath in, making an attempt at centering yourself. This was just another slip-up, and hardly a big deal; it is not as if you will be asking for a round three. He is simply too annoying and low-key inconsiderate. 

You sit and wait for the door to open and close, planning a nice warm shower. The only plan the group has is to meet for dinner, and that isn't for another few hours. You are shocked when you feel something hit you on the arm, and your eyes fly open to find the cardboard cube of tissues resting by your hand, and Yoongi standing nearby with a smile. 

"See ya later," he calls, waving his fingertips playfully while a sweet, almost pretty smile graces his lips. 

"Yup," you respond, tearing your gaze away and looking down at the tissues. Only when you finally do hear Yoongi leave, do you begin to wipe yourself clean.

"Get your shit together," you mumble under your breath, disgusted by how much you actually did enjoy Yoongi's company, bothered by how your giant suite feels lonely the moment he is gone. 

You need to get a grip before dinnertime. And you need to resist the urge to get to know Jimin. This can not and will not become a regular thing. There is absolutely no way it can. Nothing good can come from catching feelings for the devil with the mint hair.

ahhh, here we are again with a written part after almost a full year! let me know what you think! i only have 1 other part planned, but that doesn't mean it will end there. (no promises, tho!)

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Devil with the Mint Hair is copyright 2022 - 2023 theharrowing, all rights reserved. 

[wildemaven]

Sweet Creature: Chapter Seven

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x F!Reader (Nicknamed Poppy)

WC: 6600

Warning: 18+ Blog/Minors will be blocked; Just like ao3, “creator chooses not to use warnings.” If you click Keep Reading, that means you agree that you’re the age to handle mature themes. Also by clicking Keep Reading, you understand warnings may not be complete in order to avoid spoilers for the story. 

A/N: We’ll, there’s a lot here. This week was draining with a teething/no sleeping babe— but I was determined to get this finished! I don’t have a lot to say, but I’m excited for this part of their story! Thank you to @gnpwdrnwhiskey again for her support and proofreading every week! And thank you to everyone who has continued to stick with these two dumb dumbs as they figure their shit out. Love you all!!

Series Masterlist / Playlist / Main Masterlist

Previous/ Next

Breathe. 

In. 

Out. 

Dieter wills himself to regulate the adrenaline surging through him, it has his muscles tingling as its increasing levels spread through every pliable fiber. 

Breathe. 

In. 

Out. 

He takes in his surroundings, a steady attempt at grounding his mind, assuring him, keeping him present, giving him a chance to regain his composure. 

He Sees…

The ornate tile that dresses the front steps to your Spanish Revival home, the perfect backdrop to the ‘welcome’ mat that greets him the minute he arrives to your place. 

The sturdy wooden door attached to your home that keeps you protected, allowing you to live comfortably and securely without a bother from the outside world. 

The well maintained landscape, no real knowledge of the specific varieties of plants that decorate the front, he senses a low maintenance and drought tolerant feel— a few things he had never heard of until moving in with Diem. 

The way the sky begins to shift from its golden orange and purple hues to an even shade of deep blue as the sun tucks behind the horizon line, welcoming the stillness of the night. 

The way he is actively replaying an episodic memory of you from just an hour ago when you had joined him at Diem’s house to read over his lines for his upcoming movie role. 

*

“Are you sure you even want me doing this? I don’t know a single thing about acting. Can’t Diem help?? I don’t want to mess you up.” 

It’s been a few days since the Capri re-grand opening. And a few days since yours and Dieter’s almost kiss. 

There hasn’t really been a discussion on what had happened, or almost happened, only due to the fact that you hadn’t seen each other since Dieter had to leave to take Wren home. 

Now you find yourselves sitting in Diem’s living room, on opposite ends of her sectional couch, ignoring the residual heat that is currently reigniting as you both look over the scripts you’re each holding— alone together, zero distractions. 

“This scene is between two people who are navigating a new relationship, dancing around the sexual tension between them—“

The coincidence not lost on you. 

“So, there’s no fuckin’ way I’d read through this with my sister. And I doubt she’d want to anyways, she hates this kinda shit, so I don’t even bother.“

“Okay, I’ll try my best, but if I fuck up—“ 

“You’re not gonna fuck up. I highlighted your lines in pink, just focus on those and you’ll do fine. Besides, you’re a teacher— you read stories for a living, just think of it like you’re reading to your class.”

“Dieter, it says right here at the bottom of the page in bold type, ‘HER EYES CLOSE AT HIS TOUCH FOLLOWED BY LOW SENSUAL MOANS’— there’s no fucking way I can imagine myself reading this to my class.” 

You look up from the paper, his eyes already on you. You note the way his neck muscles flex as he swallows, the grip on his paper a little tighter— you’re not sure how you’re going to survive this. 

*

He touches…

The weight of his chip, the brass cool against his warm clammy skin, pulling it from his pocket, it sits heavy in his palm— a quick reminder that who he was doesn’t define him now. A few light tosses, before gripping it with his thumb and his forefinger, one last look before returning it to his pocket. 

The compact device that connects him to everything important to him in a single touch, his finger navigating back and forth between the home screen image of Wren and him eating donuts then to the text you had sent not long after leaving Diem’s house — Poppy💐- I have that easel ready, if you still want it. You’re more than welcome to come grab it — Then double checking the numbers on the house match the ones that you sent after he text back asking if he could come over tonight— a perfect match. 

The silky strands of his ruffled dark brown hair as he tries to tame his wild curls, the cottony fabric of his gray weathered shirt pulling at it in such a way so it drapes over him just right, the rough texture of his faded jeans against his sweaty hands as he rubs them several times over where they hug his thighs— a blind once over of his appearance. 

The way his hand skims over the velvety skin above your knee, the hem of your dress delicately dancing over his fingertips, the faint scar that now lives on the side of your thigh from a biking accident as a kid lays uneven under his gentle graze. 

*

“Is this okay?” 

Somewhere between shared lines, and fiery dialogue, Dieter finds himself sitting closer to you, his knee brushing against yours—hand so effortlessly placed on your thigh as he checks in with your comfort. 

“Y-yeah— it says ‘HIS HAND REACHES THE APEX BETWEEN HER THIGHS’, so she would know that his hand is moving up her leg—.” Your voice trembles as you try to concentrate on the words printed in bold on the current page. 

Looking up, you see Dieter’s focus solely on you, his folded script tucked between his leg and the couch cushion. 

“That’s not what I asked.” There's a deep husk to his voice, his movements halted as he draws your attention away from the pages and up to him. “Are you comfortable with this, not what the paper reads or act is telling us to do. Is this okay with you?” Your consent, regardless of what the characters are doing, his number one priority. 

“Y-yeah…” You murmur as you look down to where his hand is still subtly holding your leg. Your attention drawn back to his handsome face, placing your hand on top of his, encouraging him to continue his efforts. 

*

He hears…

The symphonic resonance of the nightfall harmonics drifts through in the crisp evening air, a modest breeze carries the lilt of the chirping crickets throughout the stilled neighborhood, the rustling of the leaves scattered and swirling across the sidewalk, the faint cries of coyote pups awaiting the arrival of their mother who’s been in search of a hearty meal. 

The way his heart beat reverberates against his eardrums, the thudding of his heart an emotive chorus, its pace evening out with each grounding thought. 

The way your breath catches, its auditory staccato floats through the air and nestles somewhere deep within his mind, storing its melodic rhythm away as an echoic file, never wanting to forget how it sounds. 

*

Dieter shifts himself forward, the crunch of the leather puckering as he settles a knee on the cushion, a hand gripping the back of the couch as he angles himself closer. 

The crackle of paper startles you, Dieter grabbing the crumbled heap of papers and tossing it over his shoulder, removing any distractions that might be bothering. 

Bit by bit you allow yourself to fall back onto the mound of decorative pillows in the corner of the couch. Dieter following your lead, keeping a close distance between you as he settled himself between your legs. 

“When is Diem going to be home?” You breathed, a warmth spreads through your body as you fixate on the fact that this is really happening. 

“Don’t know, at least an hour.”

A few loose curls fall into Dieter’s face, you lightly comb them back, the movements unhurried and attentive. Your fingers catching the frames of his glasses in the process, you gingerly remove them from his face, carefully tossing them to the side— producing your favorite lopsided grin from him. 

Dieter pauses to study every little detail of this moment— the flash of want in your eyes, the way your fingertips skim over and around his taut biceps, the deliberate way the tip of your tongue wets your bottom lip before it’s drawn in between your teeth, the way your lungs continue to fill with the air you’re both sharing— he’s never felt more alive than in this moment. 

*

He smells…

The night brings a refreshing scent of calmer air, the aromatic warmth of the citrus  groves meld with the fragrant lavender farms that accumulates throughout the day, the herbal aroma that triggers a distinct nostalgic smell of his childhood. 

The way your perfume mixes with your natural pheromones, the unmistakable notes of musky vanilla and orange blossom paired with your own unique scent stimulates his olfactory nerves, his spine tingling with pleasure as he breathes you in. 

*

Dieter takes his time, deliberate in his own way, he wants to take his time— savor the moment. 

He lowers himself down to the open space where your shoulder meets your neck— warm, delicate and inviting. 

You angle your head, allowing him more space to move, your hands wrapping themselves around his neck, twisting his hair between your fingers. 

Dieter places a soft tentative kiss to your shoulder, then slowly dragging the tip of his nose up the column of your neck, mindful of how responsive you are, nudging at your jaw before stopping.  

“You’re so fucking soft.”  His lips ghosting over your ear, voice honeyed and thick, his hand now situated on your bare hip, thumb toying with the seam of your underwear. 

You nuzzle into the side of his head, his scent provocative in the way you crave it immensely. The smokiness of the sandalwood and cedarwood compliment the spicy musk and floral base— it’s Dieter, wild and delicious. 

*

He tastes…

The ache for sustenance, a morsel of pleasure activates his taste buds, a palatable desire that he craves in hopes to fight off the hunger that plagues him. 

*

A fieriness burns through your body, causing you to lose all ability to properly handle the way Dieter is making you feel— ravenous. You need more, something substantial that satiates the emptiness and the yearning. 

The unfaltering look in his eyes, an unspoken feeling of infatuation that has you melting under his gaze. 

Dieter leans in, gradually closing the gap between his lips and yours, sparking the immediate surge of oxytocin actively flowing through your veins.

 His breath fanning across your lips, warm and minty, a brief remembrance of your almost kiss— several times over. 

This position offers a new approach, angle of motion, feeling the fullness of his bottom lip catch your top lip, your fingers gripping tightly to his hair in anticipation as the weight of his lips begin to slot gently over yours. 

*CLICK* 

“Dieter? I’m home!” Diem announces her arrival. 

Releasing the breath you were holding, grip loosened, warmth lifted— another moment gone. 

“Fuck me!” Dieter grumbles, his forehead falling to your shoulder, your chest vibrating with a silent laugh. 

Dieter places a kiss to your shoulder then pushes himself back from where he had been hovering over you seconds before, helping you to readjust the flowy fabric of your dress, a silent look to you asking “are you okay?”— you nod yes. 

His body slumps back into the cushioned backrest, head falling back as he pinched the bridge of his nose, willing away his annoyance at Diem’s horrible timing. 

“Oh! I didn’t realize you were here too, Poppy. I dropped Wren off for a playdate and picked up some dinner on the way home. You hungry?” 

“Umm, no I’m good. Actually, I’m going to head out. I’ve got— there’s some things I need to do. So, yeah— I’m gonna go.” 

You feel like two teenagers who were caught by the other’s parents. That awkwardness that looms over afterwards, not really knowing what to say or do. 

You give his leg a light squeeze, pulling his attention back from his sulking, propping himself up with his arms on his knees, grabbing your hand and returning the faint gesture. 

“I’ll text you later.” You mouthed to him before grabbing your items from the coffee table and making your way to the front door. 

“You still on for this Friday?” Diem asks you as she’s unboxing the pizzas she had picked up, arranging a few slices nicely on plates. 

“Yep— yeah! Friday is still good! See you later.” Your response short and to the point as you close the door behind you. 

Dieter can hear the rustling of the wrappers and then a stillness hangs in the air. His back is to where Diem is standing in the kitchen, but he can feel her eyes boring into the back of his head. 

“What?” 

“Why didn’t you mention she was coming over? I would have grabbed more food, we could have all hung out together.” 

“It was a last minute thing. I asked her to come read lines with me.” 

Diem rounds the couch and places the food on the coffee table, before sitting and making herself comfortable. 

“So… Did you finally kiss her?”

That gets a laugh from Dieter, face falling into his hands at the ridiculousness of Diem’s question. 

“No, I haven’t kissed her.” Tilting his head towards where she’s sitting, chin resting against his clasped hands. 

“Oh my god! You haven’t kissed her yet? What the hell, Dieter!”

“Trust me, it’s not for a lack of trying.” He assures her, picking at the toppings of his pizza slice that had fallen onto the plate. 

“I don’t get it. If you’ve been trying, then what’s stopping you from actually doing it?” 

“You are! Literally every chance I’ve taken, you stroll on in and fuckin’ cockblock me.”

“Wait— you’re blaming me for you not kissing her?” The shocked look on her face is priceless and equally hilarious. 

“Yeah, I’m definitely blaming you. You have the worst timing ever!” He laughed, because even as annoyed as he is, the whole situation is a little funny. 

*BUZZ* 

The vibration of his phone cuts into their conversation, a text from you pops up on to the screen, he swipes it open.

Poppy 💐- I have that easel ready, if you still want it. You’re more than welcome to come grab it. 

Uncle Dude - What’s your address? Be there in a few. 

He wipes his greasy fingers with a napkin then tossing it onto his forgotten pizza. He stands to his full height, placing his phone in his pocket and makes his way to the door. 

“Where are you going? I was going to turn on that one show we’ve been wanting to watch.”

“I’m— going out. Go ahead and start it without me.” He shouts as the door clicks closed behind him. 

*

Uncle Dude - What’s your address? Be there in a few. 

Poppy 💐- House number 402. White house on the left side of the street. See you soon!

The distance from your house to Diem’s is a short one, 3 minutes if you’re a fast Walker, 5-6 if you take your time. 

Dieter was on his way— to your house. 

You toss your phone onto the counter, and run to the bathroom. Not knowing how soon he was leaving after stating he’d be here in a few, didn’t leave you much time to freshen up. 

You literally just saw him, so you kept it simple a few swipes of deodorant, clean away any mascara flakes and opting for a fresh coat of chapstick instead of lipstick— less is more approach. 

2 minutes down. 

Running through the house, you do a quick once over, grabbing any loose items, out of place items or kind of embarrassing items and tossing them into your hall closet— making sure to snag your copy of ‘My Pleasure: An Intimate Guide to Loving Your Body and Having Great Sex’ off of the coffee table. 

4 minutes down. 

Heading into the kitchen— Maybe he’ll want something to drink? You grab two tall glasses and fill them with ice, sitting on the counter waiting to fill with whatever Dieter wants. 

5 minutes down. 

Nervously, you stare at the front door, your nervous tick of picking at your fingernails keeps your hands busy. Should I turn some music on? Should I have put on a little more perfume? Maybe I should have brushed my teeth? 

*Knock Knock Knock*

You grab for the door handle, pausing for a minute to take a deep breath, then cracking the door open to see Dieter standing on your front porch, hands in his pockets, casually looking down at his feet then up to you at the sound of the creaky door hinges— his face lights up instantly. 

“Hey! Hope you found it okay?” You can’t help the dopey smile that grows on your face. 

“No issues at all. Didn’t realize how close you lived this whole time.” He says, gesturing in the direction of Diem’s house. 

“Yeah, almost neighbors.” Your smirk is laced in flirtation, your head leaning against the edge of the door in the most 90s rom-com way. “You wanna come in?”

“Sure.” 

“Are you thirsty at all? I have sparkling and regular water, Diet Coke, and some beer— I haven’t made it to the store this week so I’m running low on things. I’ll be more prepared next time.” You ramble as you lead him into the kitchen, your nervous energy spiking just slightly. 

“I’m good for right now, thank you. So, there will be a next time?” He asks, observing the way you bite at your lower lip when he mentions the prospect of a “next time”.

“Yeah,” You shrug your shoulders, noting the way the corner of his mouth quirks up and the light flutter in your stomach that follows. “I think so, if that’s what you want?”

“Yes, definitely want that.”

There’s a beat of silence, sans the sounds of home— the tick of the clock, the clinking of ice falling into the tray, a faint sound of music coming from another room. 

“Oh! I—I have your jacket, I keep meaning to bring it over and then it would slip my mind…” Very much a lie, you were wearing it early this morning while you sipped your morning coffee, reading the latest chapter of ‘My Pleasure’… and you also might have worn it afterwards, when you needed a little— relief. “I’m so sorry.”

“No, it’s totally fine. I mean, a little Birdie has been asking about it— it’s not a big deal.”

“Let me go grab it so I’m not tempted to hold it ransom for longer. Umm, help yourself to whatever. Then I can show you the easel, see if it’s something that will work for you.”

“Okay.” 

Dieter takes in your home, it’s very much you. 

Your love for plants extends inside, dozens of potted green plants, in varying shapes and sizes grace just your living room alone. 

There’s a hint of a modern flare to your style, clean lines and lots of wood, a very neutral aesthetic— most of the color living as art work on your walls. 

The art hanging throughout your home, he can only assume is your own. He’s drawn to the texture and the style of each painting— faint lines formed into human figures , landscapes resembling the world outside of these walls, and vivid abstract strokes of color adorn canvas everywhere he looks. 

A soft glow catches his eye and like a moth to a flame, he’s lured to a dimly lit room— your art studio. 

Large windows flank the walls, he imagines the natural light in the daytime is ideal in a space like this. 

Tattered empty tubes of acrylic paint, evidence of being overly pinched to extricate every last bit of paint, strewn across a large table against the wall. Empty glass food jars repurposed as storage for your massive collection of paint brushes, while spatulas and other painting instruments lay haphazardly across the tabletop. 

The table seems to double as a desk, once  light colored, now coated in layers of colorful dried paint drips and spills. He runs his fingers over the surface, a balance of smooth and irregular textures, imagining the years you’ve spent standing over this table deliberately colors and mixing new ones. 

Dieter thinks you must have been painting recently, a clear palette holds fresh dollops of paint in the center with a few experimental strokes on the side. He dips a finger into one of the little mounds, rubbing the emulsion between three fingers. It's cold and wet as it glides over his skin. 

The wall of windows behind him he finds an easel, it too covered in coats of paint— a newer canvas sits in the support bar, a rough sketch of something just barely visible. 

Next to where the easel rests, there are canvases  stacked neatly against the wall along the floor. He analyzes each painting with regard, taking in each deliberate stroke and use of color— intently connecting with the emotions you’ve experienced in creating each piece. 

He admires your tenacity. Through your long days of teaching at the school, little humans requiring so much of your attention for hours. To volunteering your time to help others explore their creativity at the gallery, planning and teaching weekly. And yet, you still find time to cater to your needs by doing something that makes your life more fulfilling, not allowing any roadblocks to deter your endeavors. 

There’s an ache in his chest, a deep reminder of how different his life could have been had he not been bound by the shackles of Hollywood and the dark world that surrounds it. 

Dieter had only ever dreamed of having such a space like this of his own, where he could chase a creative high and drown out the loud noises that followed him daily. 

Stopping his thoughts before they begin to spiral, he thinks back to a motivational speaker he listened in on while in rehab. There were a lot of valuable words shared during the speech, but he remembers the line that really stood out to him— even through the darkest moments and afflictions that overpowered all his memories and people closest to him, it didn’t mean he is less worthy of a good life, a great life, moving forward. 

Dieter realizes that with everything he’d lived through and how much hurt he had caused, he knows those things led him to this point in time— they led him to you. 

“I ended up washing it, read the care instructions on the tag so I wouldn’t fuck it up. I found some melted Kit-Kats in the pockets and a few condom wrappers— this jacket has definitely seen some things…” You stop talking when you realize you’re met with an empty room, Dieter not where you had left him. “Dieter?” 

There’s a slight movement that pulls your attention in the direction of your studio. 

You find Dieter standing in the center of the room, the flicker from a burning candle emits a diffused light, washing his sharp features in a soft glow. There’s almost a pensiveness to his expression, hands tucked in his pockets lost in his thoughts, you watch him quietly take in the room around him. 

“I see you helped yourself to a house tour.” You announce your presence as you enter the room, placing his jacket on the overstuffed chair in the corner then turning around to walk in the direction of your large art table, the skirt of your dress shifting from side to side as you walk. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to overstep—“ He starts to apologize, realizing you both hadn’t set any boundaries with each other. 

“It’s fine, I’m just messing with you. I hid all my incriminating things already.” You joke, but there’s something about him that makes you feel like you don’t have to be guarded. 

“Are these for your showing?” He asks, pointing to the canvases he had just been studying. 

“Yeah,” You say as you turn to face him, lean back against the table. “They’re all pretty much done— I’ll probably fine tune some things before the big day.”

“Can I ask what they represent?? I can see two figures— a man and a woman in some sort of intimate setting. I see the woman is fully fleshed out in color with distinct features, similar to your own— but the man looks like a shadowed figure, starting out blank, then slowly gaining color and personality in each painting— like an evolution of some sort. But what’s the narrative behind them?” 

The way he’s analyzing your work, makes you feel even more captivated by him. 

“I was having this dream— a nightmare maybe? For weeks, it would come to me every night, always starting out in the same way. I would feel him all around me— his hands, lips, everything. I would try to speak to him, but he would never respond, and I could never see his face, didn’t know who he was. Then he would vanish, like I had lost him and I would wake up in a panic. But as the weeks went on, it was like I could start to see him a little clearer…”

Dieter hangs on to your every word, he’s drawn in to your openness to share your thoughts so freely with him. He steps closer to where you’re standing, wanting to know more about these dreams. 

“Go on.” He says softly, encouraging you to share more details. 

“Some nights his face was a blur, but I could see his features, more clearly each night. And as his face became more visible over time, the dreams didn’t feel like I was losing him— it felt like I was gaining more of him. The last week or so, I can see his face— I know who he is.”

At some point in explaining the story behind your paintings, your eyes fell to the floor— the way he was watching you so intently felt overwhelming the closer he got. 

“Who is he?” He asks, placing two fingers under your chin to slowly lift your gaze up to him. 

“You.”

It’s a fierce softness in the way his mouth molds to yours, the gentle press of his lips is breathtaking— punching the air right from your lungs. 

His touch is meticulous and thoughtful, resting his hands on your bare thighs, fingers lightly graze over your soft skin leaving a trail of tiny goosebumps. 

Your hands snake up his body, settling back to where they were not so long ago— cupping the back of his head, slow drawn out scratches to his scalp. 

“Is this okay?” He murmurs against your mouth. 

“Y-yes— more than okay!” You breathe out�� you’ve  literally dreamt of this moment. 

Experimentally you slowly swipe your tongue across his plump bottom lip, silently begging for a little more and he obliges, allowing you to slip your tongue into his mouth. An equal exchange of feelings and yearning as the kiss alternates between a tangle of tongues and sweet pecks. 

Dieter pulls back, resting his forehead on yours, his breaths ragged puffs across your warm face.

“Why did you stop?” Your breath equally as ragged, chest heaving as you question his halted movements. 

“Be-because—“ His throat dry as he tries to regulate his breathing. “If we don’t stop, things will get— more serious.”

“I-I’m failing to see the problem in that.” You tease. 

“I don’t have any condoms— I didn’t think we’d get this far with our track record.” 

“I locked the door, after I let you in— didn’t want to chance any interruptions.” His chest vibrates with a soft chuckle at your response. “I’m clean and on the pill— but only if you’re comfortable.”

“I am, clean I mean— I’m clean, plus haven’t been with anyone in, well, awhile now. Might be a little rusty in all actuality.” He confesses, his thumbs still moving in sweeping motions over the tops of your thighs. “You sure you want this?”

“Very, very sure.” You whisper against his lips, grabbing one of his hands and dragging it slowly up under your dress to the throbbing ache that has settled between your legs since he started kissing you. 

“Fuck!” His eyes flutter shut at the sensation of your bare cunt, nearly choking on air— his fingers start to tentatively swipe through your wet folds, watching as your eyes start to roll back in pleasure. 

“I thought I had felt some kind of underwear earlier?” He asks, as his fingers coated in your slick start to draw lazy circles over your sensitive clit. 

“Ah!— I-I did. But I was so keyed up when I — left, I came home and had to— Oh! I had to— Fuck I can’t think straight when you’re doing that!” 

“Did you come home and touch yourself?”

“Yessss— Oh god!” You whine breathlessly as two of his fingers enter your heated core, remnants of your earlier orgasm fully welcoming him. 

“You’re so perfect.” He exclaimed,

his free hand cupping your face, keeping you close, his thumb lightly tracing across your lower lip. 

His two fingers continue to move in and out of you, working up so effortlessly. He presses a long slow kiss to your lips, followed by a few short light ones. 

You can feel yourself moving closer to the edge, there’s a tingle running down your spine, converging with the fire that’s beginning to break within you. Your velvety walls begin to flutter around Dieter’s fingers,  prompting him to kiss you a little deeper and it’s just the push you need. 

“Oh my god! I’m gonna come—“ Your body begins to shake, your hands slamming done on your table— paint splattering into the air. 

It’s an inferno of ecstasy blazing through your body, you wrap your arms around Dieter’s waist, clinging to him as you ride it out— letting the embers cool down. 

Without a single breath, you grab for the button on Dieter’s jeans as he tries to pull at the straps of your dress. It’s a jumbled mess of limbs, but finally working in tandem to rid each other of clothes. 

Dieter crowds you against the table, the edge digging into your lower back causing you to yelp. 

“Are you okay?” His eyes etched in concern, as he scans over your blissed out features. 

“Ye-yeah! The ta-table is digging.” You say, pointing to show him. 

He bends down to grab onto the back of your thighs. “Jump.” He says as he helps guide your naked body onto the table. 

His hands rest on the table as he leans in to kiss you again, unhurried as he licks into your mouth as he guides your body to lay down on the table. 

“You’re so beautiful like this, Poppy.” He says as he leaves a trail of kisses down your neck and over your chest, stopping and pressing his lips over the spot that he hopes to hold on to for a while— your heart. 

The gesture has your eyes welling up, blinking rapidly to fight them off. You feel so completely overwhelmed by him, you have to actively stop yourself from telling him how in love you are with him. 

He lifts himself off of you just enough to reach between the two of you, giving his cock a few hasty strokes before notching its weeping head at your entrance. 

“Fuck!” He gasps as he slowly pushes his full length into your warm cunt— the slightest ghosting of your climax now pulsing around him. 

Your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him in as close to you as possible, silently begging him to move, but he grips onto your leg to halt your movements. 

“Wait— I need a minute otherwise this is going to be over before it even happens.” He says, resting his head on your sternum to give himself a moment. 

“Dieter, it’s fine. Just take what you need— I’m— I’m good.” You feel more than satisfied with the two orgasms you’ve already had, you just want to feel him. 

He slowly states to move his hips, several purposeful thrusts, wanting to savor the way you feel, the warmth already starting to bloom in his belly.

Dieter lifts himself off of you, sensing this new angle is pleasant based on how you start to arch your back off the table, his steady thrusts working you both up in a desired frenzy. 

“Fuuuuck, you feel like a dream., Poppy.” His voice is hoarse, glancing down to watch the way your arousal coats him, his hands gripping your waist as he thrusting into with a little more earnestness. 

“Dieter— I think I’m going to come again— oh god!!” You announced into the lust filled room, the tell-tale signs barreling through your body. 

You try to grab onto something, hands looking for something to anchor yourself to, Dieter too far away and too lost in his own pursuit— each thrust is a little deeper producing your muscles to tighten on their own accord. 

An unexpected swipe of Dieter’s thumb over your clit is blinding, sweet erotic sounds pouring from your mouth, hands slamming back onto the table, you're met with wetness, your brain registering where you are and that your hands are covered in paint. 

The thick emulsion is cold when it hits your skin, your nipples pebble at the sensation of the paint gliding over them, your hands kneading the weight of your breasts— paint building up between your fingers with each calculated squeeze, each roll of your nipple sends you closer to your third orgasm. 

You look up to see Dieter’s slack jawed expression, which only makes you emphasize your movements, giving him a little show. You’re arched back putting your chest on display, your hands working over your exposed skin covering your upper body in a rainbow of colors. 

“Oh shit— shitshitshitshit— I’m gonna— fuck!” The sight of you sets Dieter off, folding himself over the top of you, face nestled into the crook of your neck as his thrusts begin to falter at the way your cunt begins to contract around him. 

A gravelly moan against your damp skin and one final thrust, his hips still as he’s spilling into you. 

The room is still again. The faint scent of your oud and  sandalwood candle is overpowered by the sex hazed aroma. Chests moving against each other simultaneously, lungs begging to properly breathe, skin slipping with each pull of air— this might become your favorite way to create art. 

A soft kiss to your shoulder  as Dieter lifts himself up into his forearms, resting his temple against your jaw to give his arms a chance to regain their strength before giving you a softer kiss to your lips. 

“That was—“ He’s still trying to regulate his breathing, words jumbled in his brain and not quite producing properly. 

“Amazing!” You finish his sentence for him. 

“Yeah— amazing.” He says, one more kiss because he doesn’t think he’s given you enough yet, then he’s slowly pulling out of you and helping you sit upright. 

“What a mess we made of ourselves.” You laugh as you examine both of your colorful torsos. 

“Worth it.” Dieter replied with a slight shrug and a quirky smile on his handsome face. 

“I’m going to go grab some stuff to clean us up. I’ll be right back.” 

Hopping off the table to head towards your bathroom, Dieter grabs you by the wrist, spinning you back towards him, your bodies flush against each once more as he gives you a toe curling kiss. 

“Alright, hurry back.” He says, giving your backside a few taps. 

*

You take a few minutes to freshen yourself up, wiping away as much of the paint as you can. 

Throwing on a clean pair of underwear and a loose shirt, the hardwood cool against your bare feet, you make your way back to your studio where you’re met with an unexpected sight when you get to the door, Dieter sitting in front of your easel where your last canvas sits. His naked body wrapped in his fuzzy coat, his brow furrowed in concentration as his hand moves around the canvas with a paint drenched brush. 

You take a moment to just watch him, leaning into the door frame, watching how he looks so relaxed and happy. 

“You snoop and you help yourself to my painting, you sir are a menace.” You jokingly say to him, it earns you a generous laugh. 

“Sorry, guess I’m two for two now. I saw you had it roughly sketched out and thought I’d paint you the way I see you.” He explained, leaning back into the small metal chair. 

“And how do you see me?” 

“Beautiful.” The word floats out and around you, its weight settling into that little space in your chest that has felt empty for so long. 

“That’s two times you’ve painted me now— I think those would be grounds for someone to fall in love.” You tease, but there’s truth wrapped up in your statement. Pushing yourself off the doorframe, making your way over to where he’s sitting. 

He places the brush in the glass of water, his hand reaching out for you to come closer, softly grabbing at your hips he’s pulling you down so you’re straddling his lap— fully aware he’s  still naked and covered in paint under his jacket. 

“Do you?” He has to know if you’re feeling the same way as him. “Do you, love me?” 

“Yes.” Your voice a little wobbly, your emotions bubbling up in your chest. 

But you do, you love him without a doubt and it’s the most terrifying and thrilling feeling you’ve experienced in a long time. 

“I love you too, Poppy.” He whispers to you, his eyes glossy as he fights back tears. 

“Why are you crying?” Wiping the single tear that has started to fall down his cheek. 

“I’m scared— that I’m going to fuck this up. And you’re going to resent me. And I’ll be back to where I was a year ago— alone.” 

Your heart nearly breaks at his confession. 

“That’s not going to happen though.” Brushing his wild hair away from his eyes, caressing his face and hoping he hears the sincerity in your voice. 

“How do you know that?”

“I don’t. But a wise man once told me— we’ll figure it out as we go.” 

His arm wraps around your waist as his other hand cups the back of your neck, bringing your face to his, your nose bumping into his. 

“I love you.” He breathes against your lips. 

And before you even have a chance to reciprocate, he’s kissing you with so much love and feeling. 

“Will you come? To see my showing on opening night?” You ask between feather-like kisses. 

“I wouldn’t miss it, Poppy.”

*

It’s a few hours later when Dieter walks through the front door of Diem’s house, ready for a shower and sleep. 

“You’re home late.” Diem’s voice sounds from the same spot on the couch he’d left her in. 

“Uh, yeah. Lost track of time.”

“Were you at Poppy’s?” She asks with herround of motherly questioning. 

“Yeah, I was. She had that easel, so I went to get it.”

“Where is it?”

“Where’s what?”

“The easel.”

“Oh, I— I must have forgot it. We were talking, lost track of time. I’ll grab it another time. I’m gonna take a shower then head to bed. Night.” Hoping to throw her off his scent, the last thing he wants is to hear her boast about what you and him were up to. 

“Night. Oh hey, Dieter.”

“Yeah.” Turning back towards her. 

“Make sure you wash that cute hand print on your neck.” Her devilish grin beaming at him. 

He gives her a middle finger for good measure, then heads to the bathroom. 

Next

[manofbeskar]

Okay, I am interested in your Dracule Uta posts now. (She's just so cute and I just know he embroidered that flower on her onesie!!) I need to know more!!

I don't have too much details yet but this is what I have for now:

While Shanks finds her in a treasure chest after raiding another crew, Mihawk instead finds her after killing some marines and discovering her on their ship, eating a devil fruit. He figures the Marines probably don't have good intentions for her so he takes her with him.

For the first few days/weeks, he tries to find another home for her. He thinks his life as a marine hunter and lone pirate is too dangerous to care for an infant. A bit of a Buddy Daddies thing in that way, that he's too dangerous to be around and frankly doesn't want the responsibility.

When he finds out which devil fruit she ate (still the Sing-Sing fruit), he realises he can't risk her falling into the hands of someone more corrupt who can manipulate her powers. He decides to go all in and try his best to raise her properly.

He goes to Shanks for help. He himself never had good parents, but he knows Shanks had a good relationship with Roger and his crew also has older men who may have advice to offer. He gets closer to the RHP this way, learning from them how to best care for a baby.

Shanks grows close to Uta. He likes that her hair makes her look like his and Mihawk's baby. He also treats her like she is their kid, always accidentally calls himself her father. Uta also thinks of him like that. Similar to Buddy Daddies again, Mihawk and Shanks both acknowledge they have parental roles in her life but, at this point in time, don't view themselves as romantic co-parents.

(Of course, they have feelings for each other but Mihawk is oblivious to his feelings and Shanks is secretly crushing hard. He loves how good Mihawk is with the kid and how hard he's trying)

Shanks likes to bribe Uta with sweets to talk him up to Mihawk. Always backfires on him because she's way too frank about it (learned that from Mihawk). She'll just say shit like, "Mihawk, Shanks told me he wants to kiss you!" and it embarrasses Shanks every time.

Uta loves being carried by Mihawk. He carries and controls Yoru so easily. Even teen Uta is practically weightless in his arms. It reminds her of when he first found her and rocked her in his arms as they rode his boat back to his home.

Uta sees Mihawk and Shanks's feelings for each other grow over the years until on her 12th birthday she told them to get a grip and go out already. They went out and have been together ever since.

Mihawk and Shanks figured out a co-parenting arrangement a few years before Shanks docked at Windmill Village. Mihawk thinks it will be good for Uta to go sailing with Shanks every once in a while as his experiences sailing with him have always ended with fun stories and meeting new people.

Mihawk wants Uta to get out there and appreciate the world's vastness. He often takes her sailing (if she isn't sailing with Shanks) and shows her all his favourite spots. Sometimes Shanks comes along and tells her stories of "that time me and Mihawk came here ourselves and this really cool thing happened"

Mihawk let Shanks take Uta for longer than before when he docked at Windmill Village as he wanted Uta to make long-term friends that weren't twice her age like himself and the RHP, so she still meets Luffy. While he is a loner, he wants Uta to experience everything and meet people from all walks of life so she can figure out exactly who she wants to be.

Mihawk trained her to be a strong swordswoman since young. She's very skilled with the blade but told him she wanted to be a singer. Mihawk supports her preference and is happy to listen to all her new songs. As he strived to be the greatest swordsman when he was young, he now wants to help Uta become the greatest musician. He tunes in for every broadcast she does and makes sure the RHP catches them too. Uta still cares a lot about her swordsmanship and practices it often to stay sharp.

She carried a bamboo sword as a kid, then got Shanks's old one with the red hilt as a hand-me-down when she was 15. For her 18th birthday, Mihawk had a Yoru-inspired blade crafted for her. She named it "Musica". It looks similar to Yoru but the orbs are red and heart-shaped, the blade isn't black, and it's shorter.

She lives at Kuraigana with Mihawk but splits her time between there and wherever Shanks is. When Perona moved in, they became close friends. Perona loves hearing about her Mihawk stories. She also regularly duels with Zoro when he moves in, insists he doesn't stand a chance against Mihawk if he can't even beat his first student.

Uta's favourite colour is teal because it's the colour Yoru's blade shines.

Her eyes have rings as Mihawk also taught her powerful observation haki (I don't know if the rings are directly relevant to that but I like how the rings look on her)

[ladytauria]

Oh I see what we are doing now *ahem*

-Abyss left the ask box-

-Person with the most perfect Mustache you've ever seen-

*Strokes it* Trick or Treat my fine lady

*squinting* that’s a very fine mustache you have there, dear, but I SWEAR I’ve seen your face before

hmmm… well. while there are still several ideas hidden in my documents for some reason I feel compelled to give you my OTHER idea I had for my dear friend @deepwithintheabyss

jumping into this one without a lot of worldbuilding to try and curb the length dfghjk also this is a little rough/messy… i’d love to flesh it out a little more perhaps. call this a first draft version haha

It’s not until after Zatara has left that Tim gets to process how odd all of this is.

Alvin and he stand across from each other in Tim’s living room. It’s almost like looking in a mirror—both of them dressed in the same loose sweats, the same ratty Gotham Knights sweatshirt.

Alvin tilts his head. “So… are we going to fuck?”

Tim chokes. “What?” Of all the questions he could have broken the silence with—

“You can’t tell me you haven’t thought about it.” Alvin’s lips twitch. “I know better.”

If Tim is always this smug-looking when he’s right about something, he can understand why Steph says he has a ‘punchable’ face. “You don’t have to be so blunt about it,” he grouses.

His objection is mostly on principle. In a world of alternate universes and time travel (proven multiple times over now, Bruce), it’s hard not to consider, to think about, what might happen if Tim was faced with another version of himself. Hell—Tim has met another him. Though, granted, that meeting didn’t go particularly well.

But. There was always the possibility of meeting another him, someone who wasn’t a fascist asshole. Someone, well—

Someone more like Alvin.

A magical doppelganger, created by an artifact related to Tim’s latest case. A perfect copy of him, down to his last memory at the time of creation. It answered a lot of questions Tim had—but more immediately… it opened up entire realms of possibilities.

Alvin steps closer, and then closer still, until they're almost touching. “Do you really want to keep arguing?” His voice is low. Husky. Tim has heard himself sound like that before, but always—always from inside his own head.

No. No he doesn’t.

But Alvin knows that already.

There is no hiding from him, Tim realizes. Alvin knows him better than anyone ever has—or ever will.

The thought is equal parts terrifying and thrilling.

Rather than answer, Tim steps even closer, crossing the distance between them. He tangles his fingers in the hairs at the back of Alvin’s neck, gripping his nape. Their mouths crash together, both of them making the same soft sound. They almost harmonize. Tim feels his belly tighten—his nipples harden, rubbing against the soft cotton of his sweatshirt. He shivers, his skin tingling.

Alvin’s hands slip under his shirt. Tim gasps. Alvin’s fingers are cool against his skin; his grip steady, firm.

The slide of their lips is slow, unhurried. It’s good. Not the best kiss Tim has ever had—their lips are chapped in just the right way to catch against each other. But… even despite that, it stokes the steady warmth growing in his belly, making him sigh against Alvin’s mouth. He gives into the urge to lick into Alvin’s mouth and Alvin lets him, slackening his mouth so Tim can lick into him and taste.

Alvin tastes like nothing at all.

It would be disappointing if it the reason why wasn’t so thrilling. Of course Alvin’s mouth doesn’t taste like anything—it’s Tim’s mouth.

His grip tightens in Alvin’s hair. Alvin moans. He sucks on Tim’s tongue, pulling an echo of the sound from his own chest. He steps forward, slotting his leg between Alvin’s. His thigh presses against his groin. He can feel the shape of Alvin’s cock, hot and half-hard, through their sweats. It makes his mouth water. He swallows—Alvin’s tongue chases his back into his mouth as his hips roll, grinding against Tim’s thigh and groaning. His nails bite into the skin of Tim’s waist, and Tim gasps.

“A-ah—” He has to break the kiss to pant.

Alvin takes the opportunity to bury his face in Tim’s neck, biting at the delicate skin there. Tim is sure that he’s leaving bruises. It’s something he loves on a good day, but the idea that the bruises would match the shape of his own mouth—

“Fuck,” he says, his twitching, cock rutting against nothing, nothing at all.

In all of his elaborate fantasies, Tim had never imagined rutting against his doppelganger like he’s still a teenager. But now that it’s happening—

Why not?

Why not get off just like this?

Like Alvin is thinking the same thing—and fuck, he probably is, because they’re the same—he slots his own leg between Tim’s. They’re tangled together, pressed so close they’re almost one person.

Alvin bites—Tim shouts, his hips stuttering forward, and moans breathlessly when this time, he meets the hard muscle of Alvin’s thigh, the friction sending a wave of feeling skittering over his nerves. He pulls at Alvin’s hair, good and hard, the way he knows makes his nipples feel tight, his scalp tingle. His other hand drops down to Alvin’s ass, gripping the swell of it, pulling him forward to rub against Tim’s thigh.

Alvin gasps, moans. He scratches at Tim’s back, his waist, and abruptly, Tim needs to be naked. He lets go of Alvin to grab the hem of his sweatshirt and pull it off, over his head. He tosses it aside carelessly. Nothing crashes, so wherever it landed is probably fine. Alvin makes a soft, eager noise, then he follows suit.

They’re identical, of course. Lean and wiry and covered with a dark dusting of hair, thickest at his belly. Scars litter their skin—some of which only they can see, too faded for anyone else to find without serious exploration. There’s a mole next to one of his nipples. Tim’s only really ever seen it in the mirror before; it’s too far down for him to pay much attention to when he’s lying in bed, touching himself.

Right now—

Right now, it’s like his vision has narrowed down to it, and he shoves—gently—at Alvin, until his knees hit the back of the couch. Alvin lets himself fall, lets Tim crash on top of him, gripping at his shoulders while Tim trails a rough, wet path from his neck to his chest. His knees hit the floor. Alvin’s legs lock around his middle, ankles crossing at his back.

He knows just how to touch himself… with his hands. With his mouth—

With his mouth it’s clumsier, messier. He doesn’t know quite how roughly he can bite, how hard he can suck. But he figures it out, letting the gasps and moans Alvin makes guide him. Alvin’s fingers find his hair. He tugs, that perfect way that Tim likes, and he moans. His hips rut forward, against the couch.

He feels dizzy with want.

It reminds him of his task, just a few moments ago. He pulls off of Alvin’s nipple and shucks his pants. The position makes it awkward, clumsy. He would feel embarrassed if he didn’t know that Alvin was just as messed up as he is.

He reaches for Alvin’s pants next. Alvin’s belly tenses, showing off the muscles in his abdomen as he lifts his hips, letting Tim slide them over the swell of his ass and then down his legs. Tim doesn’t bother with their socks, climbing back up to plaster himself against Alvin instead. They move, the two of them, until they’re horizontal; Alvin lying under him, his head propped up slightly on one of Tim’s throw pillows. The other one is kicked to the floor. He can feel Alvin’s cock against his belly, hard and hot and leaking precum.

Alvin looks up at him, his face flushed, his eyes dark, hazy. This is what Tim looks like when he’s having sex. His cock pulses. He needs— He needs to see what he looks like when he comes.

He holds his hand up to Alvin’s face. He doesn’t have to say what he wants—Alvin knows, licking over Tim’s palm, holding his gaze as he does. Tim’s mouth is dry.

As soon as his hand is wet, he shoves it between their bodies, wrapping his hand around both of their cocks. They moan in perfect unison; the exact same breathless, desperate pitch. Tim starts slow, smearing spit and precum over their cocks until the glide is slick and smooth. Then he speeds up.

If he was masturbating alone, he would alternate between slow and fast; keep himself hovering over the edge until it was almost too much to take. Then, and only then, he would let himself cum.

Later, he’d be more than happy to test both of their limits. To act out every filthy fantasy they’ve ever had, but never had anyone else to to try it with.

Right now, though—

Right now, he’s getting an outsider’s perspective of his own orgasm and he wants nothing more than to see it through. So he does, hitting that perfect speed, that perfect tightness, twisting his wrist—pulling out all of the stops until he can almost taste his peak. Alvin writhes under him. He claws at Tim’s back, leaving streaks of red over the smooth skin there. Tim will look at them later; compare the spread of his fingers to them and flush at the idea that anyone else would look at him and think he’d found some random hook-up to take home.

Only Tim would know the truth.

Well.

Tim and Alvin.

“C’mon,” he whispers. “C’mon, baby—wanna—I wanna see you cum.” He shifts slightly, bracing more of his weight on his knees. He gets his other hand involved, then; tugging and twisting at his nipples, starting with the neglected one from earlier, the one without the mole.

Alvin grips Tim’s shoulders so tightly Tim is sure he’s drawn blood, and then—

He arches, mouth opening, panting their abdomens in white. Tim barely refrains from following him over the edge—staying as present as he can as he drinks in every detail. It’s not the same as watching himself on video. Even his highest definition camera can’t capture the rush of blood under Alvin’s skin, the glisten of sweat on his skin, the way his eyes move under the lids and his lashes flutter against his cheeks.

He gentles his hand, stroking Alvin until he collapses against the couch, chest heaving as he pants. He looks up at Tim with hazy eyes—his expression lazy, fucked-out. If Tim cared to psychoanalyze himself, he’s sure he could think of several interesting notes about the way he leans down to capture Alvin’s lips in a kiss.

Tim isn’t interested in digging that deeply.

Not this time.

Alvin only lets the slow, lazy kiss continue for a few minutes before he threads a hand in Tim’s hair and tugs him off. His lips curve upward, and then his legs tangle with Tim. He’s suspended in the air for one breathless moment before his back hits the couch, knocking the remaining air out of his lungs.

“Your turn now.” Alvin’s voice curls around the words in a low, dark promise.

Tim shudders, arching into his touch.

He can probably get away with taking a few days off. If anyone asks— He can just tell them it’s for science.

[shit-begone]

WISHES (Part 9)

Wishes (Masterlist) | Prev (Part 8)

STORY LINE:

*Lee Chan/Dino as your best friend that suddenly confessed his feelings for you.

*Choi Seungcheol/Cheol as the annoying mutual friend who wants to be a part of your life.

The confusion began when you realized that your best friend may have offered you the world while your annoying friend that resembles a lot like your college heartbreaker, Seok-jin, wanted to be part of yours.

It was an easy-peasy thing for you, not until you had to join Chan and Cheol in a five-day vacation with the boys.

-----

PART 9                      WISHES: They Do Come True

WORD COUNT        3,624

CATEGORY              Fluff and Angst

-----

Exactly a month later...

You ended the night fooling around each other and watching funny videos on the internet. Tonight was a nice encounter; something new for the both of you, something new and something to look forward to for the rest of your lives together.

-----

"Good morning, everyone!" Seungkwan greeted.

"Good morning Mr. Seungkwan!" The three trainees greeted.

"Hi, Seungkwan! How's the construction?" You asked.

"Ohhh, it's almost done! I'm so excited!"

"Is Dino with you?" You asked.

"He'll be here anytime soon."

The door chimed and Dino came with his new haircut. You and Seungkwan both giggled as you noticed that one of the trainee barista was blushing when he came.

"Can I have the usual please?" Dino asked with a smile on his face, "I'll just use the comfort room real quick. Please just serve my drink at my favorite spot."

"Right away, Sir!" The trainee confirmed.

You continued to arrange the pastries on the glass display as Seungkwan observed the trainees with their operations.

"Hey, Dino is quite unavailable at the moment." Seungkwan whispered to the trainees, "You better keep your cool."

"Am I missing something?" You asked Seungkwan.

"You're too busy with Seungcheol and the trainees, that's why. Just watch, I do hope Stella comes in today." He said.

The door chimed again and came Stella, the girl Dino.

"Speaking of the girl Dino." Seungkwan added.

The trainee took over the counter and asked for Stella's order which was always their hot matcha latte.

Dino and Stella's eyes met as she was about to place her things on the usual spot she takes. Dino also stopped half way from the comfort room before reaching his favorite spot and gestured that he's giving his way for her to occupy his table.

"Uhhh, sorry Sir, is this seat already taken? I'm sorry." Stella said shyly as she lifted some of her things from the chair.

"No, no, it's okay; really, there are a lot of vacant tables anyway." Dino smiled.

"Hot matcha latte for Dino and another for Stella!" The trainee exclaimed as he brought the drinks to the table, he was startled when he witnessed Dino and Stella standing between their common spot.

Due to second-hand embarrassment, Dino took the drinks from the trainee, "Thank you, I'll take it from here," he placed the two drinks on the table and gave Stella a shy smile.

"Sir, it's oka---"

"Please don't call me 'Sir'. I'm fine with just 'Dino'." He offered his hand as formal introduction.

She responded with a firm grip and smiled, "Stella."

"I'll just leave your drink here."

"No. Uhhh, you can sit with me. I don't mind." She said.

As Stella was seated, Dino looked to your direction. You just smiled as a sign of affirmation that he doesn't need to worry and everything is okay.

Seungkwan inched beside you giving you a cup of coffee, "See?"

"Was I that busy with Seungcheol?"

"Yes. They've been eyeing each other for almost two weeks now. On the first week, Dino was seated first on that spot before Stella came."

"Huh? No. It's still from the same supplier. Why? What's wrong?" Kwannie was confused.

"Oh, I was too preoccupied indeed, huh. But may I ask one thing, tho?" You paused for a while, "Did we change the brand of our matcha powder?" You asked.

"Can you please check on the open date or expiry date?" You asked a trainee.

"Miss, it's opened today and expires in two years’ time. Manufacturing date is also quite new."

"Can you open that for me? I'll give it a whiff."

Seungkwan opened the matcha canister for you.

"What the fuck?" You pinched your nose closed and pushed away the container.

"What's wrong?" Seungkwan had a whiff, too. "It smelled the same."

The scent was too strong that it made you nauseous. You rushed directly to the hand washing area by the comfort room because you can't hold it in anymore.

"Are you okay, Y/N?" Seungkwan asked.

The female trainee followed you and held your hair to avoid it getting soiled with your vomit.

Dino was alarmed with the small rush happening by the washroom; especially when he saw Seungkwan run to you with a glass of water.

"Can you call Cheo---?" You blacked out before you could cry.

Seungkwan caught you as you fell to the ground, "Fuck it, Y/N! Help me please; I'll bring her to the hospital." He exclaimed to the trainee.

"I'm sorry; I think I have to go." Dino stood up immediately and asked permission from Stella that he should leave.

"Oh, I'm sorry. What's wrong?" She asked.

"I need to bring her to the hospital."

Stella grabbed his wrist, "I'll drive. I won't let you drive now that you're in the state of panic. Let me help you."

Seungkwan rushed to Stella and Dino to apologize.

"Miss and mister, I'm sorry for the commotion. We're currently having an emer---"

"No, no, we should bring her now to the closest hos---"

"I will drive!" Stella screamed.

Dino and Seungkwan were left speechless.

"I'm sorry Mr. Seungkwan, but you're also in a state of panic. Dino is your friend. Why are you addressing us as regular customers? I suggest you stay here with the trainees to help man the cafe, and Dino, I know you're worried with your best friend. I'll handle this. You carry Y/N in the backseat. I will drive." She calmly explained.

"Oh, right. Right! I'm sorry." Seungkwan looked at Dino in surprise, "It's indeed Dino. I'm sorry."

"Kwan, please take care of my things. We'll be back." Dino said as he carried you outside the cafe.

"Please call me. I'll help." Seungkwan responded.

Chan hopped in the backseat with your unconscious body and Stella started to drive to the nearest hospital.

"Are you calm now?" Stella asked.

"A little. Thank you, Stella."

"Y/N is very lucky she's got a bestfriend like you."

"How could you tell?" Dino asked as he shook your body to wake you up.

"I can tell from the look in your eyes. The way you were worried about her, and the way that you have panicked when you saw her fall on Mr. Seungkwan's arms."

"You should see how her boyfriend would care for her."

"Ohhh, she's got a boyfriend?" Stella was surprised.

"Yes, also my friend."

Ring... ring... ring...

"Well, speaking of. Hello, Seungcheol?"

"Chan, how's Y/N? To what hospital are you headed to?"

"Bayview Medical Center. She's still unconscious. Where are you?"

"I'm on duty in the game developers' expo just an hour away from you. I'll be there. Please text me everything that you need, I'll bring them right away."

"I will. Take care, Cheol."

Stella entered the emergency bay and assistance immediately responded to you and Dino.

"I'll park the car. I'll just ask assistance from the front desk."

"Sir, what happened to your patient?" The doctor asked.

"I really don't know. She just fainted in the middle of her work. She seemed fine minutes before she fainted." Dino explained.

"We'll get her stats and run some blood tests."

"Please, anything that could aid in the diagnosis."

Luckily, you already gained consciousness so the health professionals immediately took over for the procedures needed.

You have completed necessary procedures and were immediately transferred to a private room to your request as you wait for the diagnostic results.

"You should get some rest. Seungcheol will be here anytime now." Dino reassured you.

"Thank you Stella and Dino." You smiled, "I'm sorry for the trouble."

"I'm sorry I wasn't able to introduce myself properly. Ste---"

"I know. I have known you since you first dined in our cafe. I was the one who took your order. You went to Dino's favorite table in the shop."

Stella and Dino looked at each other and smiled shyly.

The door opened and came Seungcheol and Mingyu.

"Ohh?" Dino was surprised.

"What's up, bud? Your girlfriend?" Mingyu asked as he greeted Dino.

"Hey, watch it." Dino sulked.

Seungcheol approached you and kissed you on the forehead.

"How are you? I'm sorry I wasn't able to come to you immediately."

"It's okay. I'm fine, see? Dino did well." You answered.

"Thanks, Chan. I don't know how I could make it up to you." Seungcheol smiled at Dino.

"Uhhmm, now that you've mentioned. How about some forbidden cheat codes for Octopath Traveller II?" He smiled.

"What the fuck?" Cheol sulked.

"Okay, I'll charge you for the---"

"Okay, okay. Geez. I'll give you other merchandise of it, too. Just don't publicize those cheat codes."

"You have my word, brother." He smiled crazily at Mingyu who was confused of what they were talking about.

"I brought lunch for everybody. Let's eat up before the food gets cold." Seungcheol said.

Just a few moments in, food service and the doctor came at the same time, just in time for the lunch party in the ward.

"I'm sorry to interrupt. May I know who the guardian of the patient is?" The doctor asked.

"Doc, I am her boyfriend. Her parents are two hours away from here. Is there something wrong? Do they need to be present here?" Seungcheol asked.

"Ohh. Maybe it's best that they know. But since two hours would be a lengthy travel time, I'd like to inform you now," The doctor breathed a little heavy, "That patient Y/N is pregnant."

Everyone was in shock; Mingyu even choked on his beef stir fry. As you felt really pumped with the news, you thought about your parents. How would they react to this news?

"It was a good move to get a private room, but regardless, you're good to go. But if you're still a little ill, you can take as much time as you want here. Anyway, we have contacted your health insurance provider and you are entitled for such services. Did I bring you some good news?"

"Yes!" You and Seungcheol exclaimed.

"Ohhh. Since you're both in favor of this, there's no need to transfer you to counseling. I guess? Congratulations. I'll leave you now."

"Thanks, doc!" Seungcheol greeted with all smiles.

After the doctor left the room, Mingyu immediately went to pick up a fight on Seungcheol, "Yah!!! Have you planned having a family? Why are you being secretive with us?" He said as he grabbed his collar playfully.

"Hey! Hey! Stop! Let me explain!" Seungcheol said in defense.

"Go on." Mingyu sat beside him ready to hear the story.

"We weren't really expecting. We haven't talked about having a family yet. We haven't figured yet what to tell mom and dad, especially her parents. But I don't know why were both excited with the news either." Seungcheol smiled as he held your hand.

Mingyu and Seuncheol's conversation became distant to you when Dino caught your attention. He pulled his chair close to you and with a smile on his face; he asked if you were ready.

"You're gonna be an uncle." You smiled.

"I will. But I think an auntie for the uncle is on her way." Lee Chan winked at you and glanced at Stella who was smiling at you.

"That's good news. Uncle's auntie is really pretty." You giggled.

"What did you wish for?" Lee Chan asked.

"In the cave?" You asked.

"Yes."

"That was months ago! But if you insist, it was nothing special." You smiled as you remembered the day you wished in the cave;

If I'm for Lee Chan, then please tame my heart, let me hear what he has to say, let me embrace the things he could offer, but if I'm not, I wish for the stronger bond in our friendship and healing for him. He is a good guy; I wish not to hurt his feelings.

If I am not destined to cross the line for Dino, I wish for a man that has pure intentions, sincere, never will be forgotten and never will disappear.

"You bet. You're still the same Dino I have met."

"I just wished for healthier relationships." You smiled.

"Well, whatever you wished for, I hope it happened already." Dino held your hand and planted a kiss on it, just like old times.

"Nothing changed, Y/N. You know that."

"Nothing has changed. Thank you."

"I love you so much, congratulations." He smiled.

"We love you, too." You said as you lightly tapped your stomach.

"Is there anything you want me to pick up for you? I think I left my phone in my car." Mingyu said to Seungcheol.

"I guess we'll let Mingyu see us out. We're going back to the cafe anyway; Stella still got appointment this afternoon. We left some of our things there with Uncle Seungkwan, too." Chan smiled.

Seungcheol stood up and hugged Chan, "Thanks, Chan. Thank you, Stella. I didn't know what I would do without you; I was an hour away from Y/N. I'm very thankful you were there when she fainted."

"Congratulations, Mr. Seungcheol and Ms. Y/N!" She smiled.

"Stella, we're okay with just our first names." You said.

"Call me if you need anything. Alright? Congratulations, Cheol. We'll leave now." Chan said.

"I will. Thank you."

"Thank you for taking care of Y/N."

"I hope I didn't disappoint you." Cheol smiled.

"You didn't and it was more than enough."

You felt happy when you saw Seungcheol and Dino exchange hugs before leaving. As they left the room, Seungcheol jumped in happiness as he screamed that he's gonna be a dad.

"But wait, how are we gonna tell your mom and dad?" He asked.

"I don't know. Like, right now?" You said.

"Aren't you nervous or what?" He wondered.

"Why? Would that change anything?" You smiled.

"I admire you."

"I'll call them now."

"You sure about this?" Seungcheol asked.

"Are you nervous?"

Ring... ring... ring...

"N-no, no. I'm ready." He let out a heavy sigh.

"Honey, I'm a little nervous, okay? But here goes nothing."

"Sweetie? Why did you call, it's mid-shift, eh? Is it slow today at the cafe?" Your mom asked over the phone.

"I'm at Bayview mom."

"W-what? Why? What's wrong? We'll be there immediately. Send us the details. Who's with you right now?" Your dad asked.

"Let's video call instead. We'll call you, just wait a little bit." Your mom insisted and ended the call.

You looked at Seungcheol who was a little nervous at the moment. You immediately answered the video call from your mom.

"Hi mom, hi dad!" You smiled

"Hi Mr. and Mrs. Y/LN!" Seungcheol greeted them.

"Hello, Seungcheol. How is it going there? What happened to our daughter?" Your dad asked.

"Actually mom, dad, Dino brought me to the hospital. I fainted in the cafe under Seungkwan's care and Cheol was at work an hour away from me. He just left from work to come here." You said.

"Seungcheol, it's okay if you finished work. When she started earning, she secured every one of us with health insurance and emergency benefits." Your dad said.

"Dear, it's Seungcheol's feelings. You can't just tell him not to worry about his girlfriend." Your mom said.

"I'm just telling Seungcheol that at any circumstance, he could at least be confident with our angel." Your dad explained.

"Thank you for your concern about me and my absence from work. I assure you; I have left my colleagues properly and immediately responded to Y/N. All thanks to Lee Chan."

Mingyu came back with his phone and shared with the call immediately, "Who's that?" He inched into the screen beside Cheol.

"Mom, it's my friend Mingyu. He's belongs to Dino, Kwan and Cheol's circle of friends." You said.

"Hello Mr. and Mrs. Y/LN! It's good to see you! I'll continue eating now." He politely said.

"Okay, okay, thank you for being there Mingyu!" Your mom said, "How many are they in the group?"

"13 mom."

"Woah? That's a big group. Everyone must be very kind, huh? So what happened next?"

"Don't tell us you're pregnant, huh? We'll really rush there to help you secure everything you need." Your dad giggled.

You and Seungcheol looked at each other and giggled.

"Wait?" Your mom was getting it.

"What?" Your dad paused for a while.

"I'm sorry Mr. and Mrs. Y/LN. I promise I will take care of Y/N, provide her with all of her needs. With regards to where---"

"Mom, Dad, I'm pregnant. Seungcheol is the father."

Your mom started to tear and was immediately hugged by your father.

"I never thought this day would still come." Your mom said.

"Seungcheol, don't worry. It may be a little off from the expected process. But God, I swear, we thought that our daughter doesn't want a family of her own." Your dad smiled.

"So you're not mad? Or anything?"

"Why would we be mad? You're both successful on your careers. You love each other, you seemed happy anyway with the pregnancy news. Right? Why would we be mad?" Your mom said to Seungcheol.

"Thank you, Mr. and Mrs. Y/LN. It's an honor to gain your trust and approval. I promise Y/N and I will start with wedding preparations soon." Seungcheol said.

"Call us mom and dad, Seungcheol. Welcome to the family."

"Thank you, mom and dad." He smiled shyly.

"We'll be there tonight. Will you still stay at the hospital? Your dad asked.

"I think we'll discharge. I'm fine now." You smiled.

"Okay, update us. We'll get going now. We're excited to see you."

"Bye mom! Bye dad!" You and Seungcheol said.

"See you tonight!"

The call ended and Seungcheol immediately hugged you tight.

"Forget about the wedding preparations at the moment; let's just prioritize everything we need for the pregnancy."

"Our pregnancy journey is our added priority."

"Added? What else is there to prioritize?" You asked.

Seungcheol stood up and went to his bag to get something. He returned by your side, held your hand and gave it a tight grip.

"I have planned and bought this way before this news came. I really planned on giving you this on our sixth month together, but I think this is the best time. We may have been together for just a few months, but I have wanted to know you ever since the day Dino brought us to your cafe and you graced me with that beautiful smile of yours. Call me cheesy or corny, but ever since the day that I saw you, I knew that I wanted to know you. With your passion and dedication, I knew you were the one for me."

"Hun, what is this? What are you saying?"

"Will the both of you be my Mrs. Choi and Baby Choi?"

"Cheol, hun." You started to cry.

He started to get teary-eyed with your reaction, "Please say yes."

"Fuck it! Why didn't you say anything Seungcheol! I could have had recorded it on my fucking phone!" Mingyu opened his camera and started to video the moment.

"Shut it will you!" Cheol exclaimed.

"Relax. Go on, continue." Mingyu giggled.

"Please don't doubt me now. Why are you crying?" Cheol asked.

"It's a yes. We wanted to be your Mrs. Choi and Baby Choi." You smiled.

Seungcheol cried in happiness and hugged you real tight. Mingyu sent the video to the boys and even posted it on Instagram with the caption: "Congratulations, Choi Family!"

Seungcheol processed your hospital discharge and everything you needed for tonight's arrival of your parents. He called in cleaning services before you arrive in his apartment unit and ordered all the ingredients he needs for the dinner from the online pick-up mart near his house.

He also invited his parents to come to announce the pregnancy and engagement in the first meeting of both your families.

It's the first time you have seen your future husband, Choi Seungcheol this excited. You thought to yourself that you're the lucky one; the world has given you someone that is willing and dedicated to you.

The night came and everything went well as your families met for the first time. Both your families were kind and accommodating to each other. You also learned from Cheol's parents that they always wanted to let Seungcheol marry already, to the point that they have set-up two different women to date with him two years ago. It ended up that your future husband just slept and ignore the two set-ups his parents arranged for him.

They also initiated with the wedding planning and were very excited and happy with the news.

Seungcheol also insisted that you'll be staying in his unit after the end of your contract next month; said he wanted to be able to take care of you all the time especially right now that you're bearing his child.

-----

Everyone was so happy with the news and you never felt this loved and excited for a long time now.

Midnight came and your parents finally gave the two of you some time alone to rest for tomorrow's work.

Fast forward to your first ultrasound...

"Ohhhhh! There are two embryos here!" The doctor smiled.

"Is it bad, Doc?" Seungcheol asked.

"No. Not at all, it only means that you're having twins!" The doctor exclaimed.

"That's what you get for skipping science classes, hun." You teased.

"I'm just nervous, you know!" He said in defense.

The doctor laughed at the both of you, "Congratulations Mr. and Mrs. Choi. To confirm what type of twins you may get, I'll set you an appointment on your 12th week of pregnancy. Is August 8 okay with you?"

"Of course, Doc! That's his birthday, too." You smiled.

"Oh! What a perfect way to celebrate the father's birthday! I'll leave you two now."

"I can't believe were having twins!" Seungcheol whispered happily, "I love you."

"I love you, too."

As he kissed your forehead, you remembered your wish from the cave.

I wish for a man that has pure intentions, sincere, never will be forgotten and never will disappear.

-----

Maybe wishes do come true.

-----

END

-----

Wishes (Masterlist) | Prev (Part 8)

[danikamariewrites]

hi 🩷

i see that you write for both nesta and manon, i was wondering if you could possibly write for mor as well ?

i’ve had this idea of a love triangle between nesta, mor and reader for a while.

i recently found your account and i’m absolutely obsessed with it, your writing, all of it !

do whatever you want with the idea, or don’t. i just thought it won’t hurt to ask.

thank youuu, ily 🫶🏻

Push

Mor x reader

A/n: a little Nesta x reader but more platonic, so I hope you like it.

Thank you anon, I’m glad your here and that you like my fics! Your compliment means the world to me 🥹

Warnings: suggestive

You and Nesta became fast friends once she arrived in the Night Court. Your love language was sharing books, which you and Nesta always did when you hung out. Your shared love of smutty books is what brought you closer together.

Mor, your crush of decades, was also one of your best friends. Unfortunately, the two females didn’t really see eye to eye. At times they competed for your attention and it was very tiring. But you split your time evenly with them.

What kept you back from Mor was Azriel. You weren’t scared of Azriel, you knew he had pining after Mor for years and didn’t want to step on his toes. You also didn’t want to assume Mor liked females as well as males.

Tonight is what pushed you, and Mor. When you, Nesta, and Mor were in the same room you could feel the tension. Nesta knew about your crush on Mor so she kept pushing you to make a move. Nesta would cuddle up to you whenever Mor was within eyesight. She would hug you from behind and kiss you leaving a loud smack on your cheek.

It always made you blush but you knew Nesta liked males. Although you wouldn’t mind getting in bed with her and Cassian. During these little moments you would see Mor get a little jealous. Which gave you a little hope.

You noticed Nesta and Cassian had been sneaking around, and you were happy for them, they were quite cute together. So you had been spending more time with Mor. It was nice, you forgot how much fun you had together.

You, Nesta, and Mor were the last ones left in the living room after a night of drinking. Swirling your wine around in your glass staring at it you held your breath. The silence was quite awkward.

Nesta spoke up first, “Well,” she dragged out in a teasing tone, “I’m going to bed. Y/n, goodnight darling.” When she gets off the couch she swishes her hips, walking over to you on the other couch. She plants a kiss on your head, winking at Mor.

Mor turns red from what you assume is anger. As Nesta leaves she swishes her hips some more, swinging herself on the door frame toward the stairs.

In an instant Mor is striding over to you and plops down next to you so your thighs are touching. You look at her giving her a shy smile, batting your lashes at her. Mor plays with the ends of your hair twirling it around her fingers. She gives you a smirk.

“Hi Mor.” “Hi y/n.” You bite your lip. You’re determined to tease her a little. The wine coursing through you was also egging you on. “Mor, can I tell you something?” Her smirk widened, “of course baby.” You felt your cheeks heat at the pet name. You liked it and wanted Mor to keep calling you baby.

You were just going to come right out and tell her. You wanted the tension to cool down between her and Nesta, and everything to be somewhat normal and happy. “I wanted to say, that I have feelings for you…and I like you a lot.”

Mor’s smirk widens into a grin. She inches closer to you and your breathing picks up, your heart skipping a beat. “Is this ok?” Mor whispers, her lips brushing yours. “Yeah.” She connects her lips with yours. The kiss starts slow and light, quickly turning deep and heated. She grips your jaw with both of her hands

Mor tasted sweet like the wine you had been drinking all night. Her lips pillow soft. You feel your core heating, your panties are soaked as you clench your thighs together. Mor pulls away, another suggestive smirk on her lips.

You look at each other with big, loving eyes, faces only inches away. “Stay with me tonight?” Mor whispers. “And let me take you out tomorrow?” You giggled, “Yes. Can we do breakfast?”

“Oh baby, I think we might be busy.” You giggle and press your lips to hers. Mor smiles into the kiss, winnowing you both up to her room.

tags: @nyotamalfoy @auggiesolovey @bubybubsters @baybay123455 @msiecrane

[trillscienceofficer]

A long time ago @nebulouscoffee asked me to write the DVD commentary of “Best Left” (which is a Raffi/Seven/B'Elanna fic set between Picard S1 and 2) and now I'm finally doing that.

This is inevitably going to get long because the fic itself is much longer than anything else I've ever posted, and I still have so many feelings for a story I put a lot of effort and heart into! But first things first, here's chapter one.

Cris, I know you’re really busy these days on the Stargazer, so I’ll keep this short.

As I was coming up with ideas for “Best Left”, my main goal was to have Raffi (which I knew would be the POV character) in a very different place than where we see her first on Star Trek: Picard. I wanted her, by this point established, long-distance relationship with Seven be a part of the network in which Raffi is now deeply enmeshed (ie La Sirena's crew). That said though, both canon events (by this time Rios has been made captain) and my plot ideas were not very accommodating of having literally everyone on board the ship. It would've been too unwieldy for a project that was already shaping up to be very ambitious for my standards. But while Jurati and Picard's absence is, I think, not that big of a deal, I still very much wanted to underline Raffi and Cris' friendship, which I think is essential in order to understand Raffi and one of the few relationships she's had that didn't go sour on her. I obviated to his physical absence with both real and imaginary correspondence, from which Raffi could draw strength in difficult moments. The fic both begins and closes with Raffi writing a message to him.

Raffi hits send on the message and looks up only to find Elnor at her side, looking just as morose as he’d been a few days earlier, when she’d told him first about the road trip idea. She sighs internally; the queue to transporter hub number four advances. It’s a busy day on the new Betazed spacedock, but luckily no one among the crowd seems the wiser to a Romulan young adult carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. He holds the straps of his bag and his staff with a white-knuckle grip. Raffi hooks her left arm into the crook of Elnor’s right. “What’s the matter?”

Rereading this I remembered how fun it was to write Raffi and Elnor interact. My intention here (and throughout the fic) was to have Raffi obviously care for him while also not losing her somewhat world-weary attitude because of her affection. Raffi is still a woman who analyzes everything around her, and acts accordingly—not to mention all the unacknowledged guilt she carries wrt her son Gabe. I didn't want to have Raffi be straightforwardly ‘maternal’, it didn't feel right and I think older women in fiction should be allowed to have mixed feelings about this role more often. Plus, like Raffi herself realizes later in the fic, Elnor has already had plenty of other women bossing him around all his life, he doesn't need one more.

Soji is at the navigation console, smiling and waving a little awkwardly. And finally, Seven watching them from the captain’s chair, which she occupies with ease, leaning on one armrest. The very image of the roguish pirate captain; Cris wishes he could pull it off this well. “Welcome aboard,” Seven says, the hint of a smirk on her lips, as if she’d just heard every single one of Raffi’s thoughts.

I honestly think Raffi is constantly roasting Cris in her head. Also when rereading I was surprised about this reprise of the idea of mind-reading from the previous dialogue between Raffi and Elnor, that was cool and I can't remember if I even wrote it entirely on purpose. In any case, I wanted to have both Soji and Elnor along for this story because (1) they could offer an interesting outsider perspective on the older women drama about to unfold and (2) I wanted to have them interact with each other and have an adventure that had nothing to do with their specific backstories. Writing Soji in this story was so much fun! It was a nice challenge to balance her characterization between the right amounts of deadpan honesty and genuine care, and making it obvious that she's still figuring out how she wants to live her life.

“I don’t think Cris would forgive me if I tried to take La Sirena into another Borg transwarp conduit,” Soji says. “And honestly I’m not sure the ship can take it.” “It wasn’t particularly pleasant on a Borg cube either,” Seven adds. “As I’m sure Elnor remembers.” “Crashing on the surface was worse,” he replies, and some of the gloom lifts from his face. The effect Seven has on people sometimes—but Raffi should be the last to judge, shouldn’t she? It’s not as if seeing Seven again, sitting on that chair so lazily and yet still projecting intent, isn’t reminding Raffi of the few weeks they’d spent on board La Sirena before. But it’s probably best if she revisits that particular recap reel in private.

I based this little Seven-Elnor interaction from my own feelings about my Cool Aunt, which I think are fitting lmao (ie especially as kid, if she was speaking to me I would immediately feel better no matter what)

Also while rereading I was like, damn I made this first half of the chapter so horny... but I've been in a ldr myself and this is pretty true to my own experience. Reuniting always means a mixture of attraction and awkwardness, and it's what I wanted to convey about Raffi and Seven here, especially since they both have a hard time trusting in people or believing that they're capable of being around people without fucking it up. The following misunderstanding about room assignments is part of this pattern.

She’s re-learning restraint, in the hardest way possible, in other facets of her life.

So here comes the part of this fic I agonized over the most... Raffi's history of substance abuse and her current commitment to sobriety. I thought the latter is what fit better with Raffi's actions on the second half of S1 (ie locking herself out of the replicator) and some scenes of S2—imho those are clues that she (wants to) simply quit. Now, a commitment to complete sobriety (including weed snakeleaf, like in a 12-step program) is not necessarily an effective way to treat addiction long term—actually quite the opposite, from what I could learn from the research I did, even if still the most popular recommended form of treatment today. I'm not entirely sure it would be at all recommended in the 24th century. So how to reconcile this with the hints about Raffi quitting cold-turkey? Is it even something I would want to depict in a good light? What I eventually tried to do is treat the matter strictly from a character perspective. I hinted that Raffi is seeing a counselor, and now feeling part of a network of people, and is now restored to her place in society via Starfleet (from her perspective). Sobriety is something she thinks she should do and can do now, so that's what Raffi did; it's all part of her wider commitment to live a different life. If this also has a whiff of self-punishment... I don't think you'd be entirely wrong. I tried to hint that Raffi has her own thoughts on her addiction but I don't necessarily share them myself (see the disclaimer on top of chapter 4), and those thoughts might be another way in which she's denying herself (because no one else grants it to her either) the compassion I think she deserves. It's a really complex topic and I don't know if I did it justice here. I welcome feedback if you have any.

She’d thought she’d lost any interest in making out, over the years—she was surprised to find out how much Seven enjoys it, and how much of that enjoyment is infectious.

I have this headcanon that Seven really enjoys making out (it's appeared in other fic of mine too, eg “Doing the Unstuck”) and her partners never expect this of her. I think I like the idea that Seven's approach to sex and intimacy is still about the sudden thrill of closeness she displayed when she twirled Chakotay around in order to kiss him lol. I especially like the idea it's one of the things about Seven that's not changed despite all that happened to her since said kiss, and that she could bring Raffi to enjoy making out again as well.

It’s still the same suitcase-shaped contraption that she cobbled together months earlier with Borg parts from the Artifact, as far as Raffi can tell. Some other parts Seven had replicated on La Sirena, and then had proceeded to build the device with surprising ease. She’d explained that it was a modular design she and other friends had come up with over the years. It hadn’t been the first time she’d found herself needing a regenerator without having one handy. Raffi had admired her resourcefulness then, and still does now.

I ranted a lot about Seven's regeneration last summer, and all my thoughts and headcanons ended up in this fic. Regeneration for Seven is now a bit different than what it used to be on Voyager; still a necessity but quicker, and something that doesn't tie her down to bulky machinery any longer. Something that ultimately Seven has more control over. However, it's also a necessity that now needs to be articulated explicitly to the people she's close to, and that other people have to learn to take into account about her. I also wanted Seven to determine clear boundaries around regeneration—eg, here she doesn't want other people around when she regenerates—but boundaries that she is still constantly renegotiating, as it happens in chapter two when she invites Raffi to stay. Seven isn't used to be around people much anymore, so she's still adapting to new realities (like her relationship with Raffi) and rethinking what is comfortable for her.

“I hope your other stops were less frustrating than Trill,” Raffi offers, making her presence known. Soji looks up at her, and her face breaks into a smile. “Oh hey, I didn’t realize you were here, Raffi. But yes, I can honestly say it was the worst one so far. I think, and Agnes agrees, that their academic institutions really opposed the lifting of the synth ban for some reason.”

This little piece of Trill worldbuilding came to be because in “Second Self” Una McCormack wrote that Raffi has taken part in the zhian'tara of a colleague. Which is absolutely bonkers to me!! I couldn't help myself and expand on it a bit, all the while maintaining my stance on Trill being very conservative when it comes to decide on people's personhood. I know it's maybe controversial but I really don't think Trill institutions are that enlightened on the topic. They might think they are, but in presence of someone like Soji the appearance would crumble immediately. I honestly loved revisiting my Trill feelings through Raffi and Soji, I haven't written Dax fic in a very long time, so this was a nice way for me to scratch that itch.

Raffi crosses her legs, raises an eyebrow. She’s reminded all too well of when Soji had first come aboard, the confusion of a young woman whose entire life as she knew it had been a deception. She can recall how Soji described her relationship with Narek, and how Raffi had been the one to name his behavior for what it was. Maybe some pointing out of the obvious is needed here too.

This is one of the things that caught my attention the most when I rewatched S1—Raffi has been looking out for Soji practically from the start, calling out Narek's presence for what it was (abusive). I wanted to let Raffi speak her mind here as well, about the kind of interactions Soji has had while on tour.

A scratchy, stuttering audio signal starts playing from La Sirena’s bridge speakers. ‘—damage. Propulsion systems offline. Atmospheric controls—’ More digital artifacting of the signal. ‘—predict where the subspace eddies will take the ship. I don’t know how long I still have—’ The audio signal cuts off, then the message repeats once again. ‘—damage. Propulsion systems offline. Atmospheric controls—’ “I think that’s all of it,” Soji says, soberly. “Damn,” Raffi says, at a loss. “She’s dying, if not already dead,” Elnor says, voicing what everyone is thinking. He turns to Raffi. “What do we do?”

When she read this chapter, my partner asked me about the use of pronouns for the yet unknown person in distress—here Elnor assumes it's a she, while Raffi and Soji don't. It was actually on purpose, I wanted to hint at the fact that Elnor's default assumption is that the people that do stuff out there in space are women because the Qowat Milat usually speaks in these terms as well. Maybe it's silly, I don't know, but I wrote it in anyway as a subtle wordlbuilding detail. Maybe too subtle if it leads to pronoun confusion.

“I’m not sure I could live with myself if we didn’t try to save the crew of that ship. There’s a chance they might still be alive.” “Then let’s do it,” Raffi says with a curt nod. “You’re in command of La Sirena now.”

In the rescue scene I tried very hard to let Raffi do tactical evaluation in a way that didn't come off as callous as it sometimes does for Worf on TNG or Tuvok on Voyager—she's honestly trying to give Soji, now in command, a good overview of the situation.

Raffi takes a long look at Elnor, and to his credit he looks genuinely curious, hands folded together, leaning with his elbows on his knees. She knows better than to doubt his intentions, but—when he wants, he knows exactly when and how to ask one of his blunt questions for maximum effect, doesn’t he? In this case, distraction. She idly wonders if this is a skill that everyone in the Qowat Milat picks up, along with the assassin training. Using the truth as a finely honed blade, rather than the cudgel it’s always reminded her of.

That the absolute candor tenet of the Qowat Milat may be used in more than one way and for more than one goal is something I already written about before (ie in “Policy of Truth”). I think Raffi has her own different ideas about telling the truth because she's trained in intelligence gathering and also because pursuing the truth has always been painful for her—see her quest to find out who was behind the Mars attack. So here she's surprised to find out that Elnor's honesty is not at all a weakness, which she's assumed so far, but rather a very well-honed skill.

“It is the ship we’re looking for,” Soji confirms, going through the readings with, once again, an ease that belies her actual experiences. “It is still transmitting the distress call, though it’s extremely garbled. The hull is pressurized, somehow, at least partially. Life signs—one, I think. Humanoid. Very faint” She looks at Raffi, eyes wide, and Raffi braces herself. “We have to beam them over. The subspace tug might breach the hull at any time. I know that we have no idea who we’ll find, but they’re dying.” Goddammit. They really should’ve woken Seven up before getting here. Then again, at this point it’s probably best to ask for forgiveness than permission. If they’re all still alive to do so. But they will; a boy assassin, an android with super strength, and Raffi. Risk assessment used to be her job in Starfleet, long ago.

I still really like Raffi thinking 'oh well, too late to go back now, but at least I have backup'. I thought about her characterization a lot while writing this fic, and tried to convey her dry humor at best I can. She's really funny in canon! I really enjoyed writing her constant quips, even if they're just in her head.

Down the stairs, she hears Emil grumble. “I can’t deliver proper emergency care if you rush me.” “You’ll replicate what you need, as you need it,” Soji retorts impatiently. “Just initiate the transport.”

All EMHs are the same.

She’s older now, and out of uniform, looking much worse for wear after what she just went through. But there’d been a time more than twenty years prior when her face had been on every Federation newsfeed, along with the rest of the crew of the USS Voyager. “You know her?” Raffi turns to Soji, frozen in bemusement beside Emil. “I’ve never met her but yes, I know who she is,” Raffi says. “You two stay here and keep an eye on things. Seven needs to see this.”

I really like the way this chapter ends (so much so that it's the quote I chose for the fic summary on AO3). I thought about the idea of generational difference a lot when coming up with this fic, and how Raffi has witnessed so many momentous events, like the return of Voyager, that Elnor and even Soji really have no context for. It's an interesting aspect of having older characters that weren't around in previous shows, and an opportunity for a different perspective that unfortunately I think Star Trek: Picard squandered completely (Una McCormack was more attentive in her novels, luckily). Regardless, Raffi's experience turns out to be an asset more than once in this fic—no one aboard La Sirena at this point is as intimately aware of the events of the Dominion War as she is.

[wardingshout]

your ALTTP drawings are so cool <3333 and your artstyle looks awesome!

What are 3 things that inspire you to draw?

thank you so much I'm so excited to hear people like them !!! ;v; I have sooo many things I want to draw that are super challenging for me right but I hope I can get to do all of them at some point !!!!

I feel like it's almost hard to narrow smth down to 3 things bc So many things inspire me to draw ! (my struggle is more so in motivation and energy department I guess)

I ended up typing a lot bc I got excited but I think these 3 are my biggest ones !

1) Nostalgia! especially when felt from environments around me or in little random moments! I always end up with a bunch of random photos of like environments or buildings or the clouds on my phone bc I felt a certain way in a certain moment and while my memory is pretty bad, snapping that photo usually helps me revisit that moment even if it may have been on some random day! and while not rly related to feeling there's also always smth fun to see around like the shape of a tree or the way shadows fall or colours ! maybe it's more about general vibes than nostalgia hmm...

I definitely don't draw environments as often as I'd like to and even when I do I haven't posted much but even so it's smth that fills me with a want to draw! to try and also bring out that kind of nostalgia or warmth !

I want to do more edgy dramatic stuff too but trying to make warm feelings has too strong a grip on me haha

2) Video games a lot a lot !! and other media too!! I absolutely love creating fanworks, I'm just a nerd and I want to share and show my love for stuff !!

video games are especially fun bc I already get to spend my time in x world and depending on what game it is that either means being bombarded with interesting visuals, fun little moments to recreate or for visually "simpler" games you get to imagine it in a 3d space all on your own and I love that ! like right now of course I'm losing my mind over alttp but in the past, games like Yume Nikki (and fangames), older pokemon games and Star Stealing Prince have had this exact effect on me too !

for a little add on I wanna say I used to worry a lot about accuracy and it could make fanworks pretty intimidating but one of my friends (shoutout to Cai) said smth earlier this year that I cannot for the life of me remember right now But it completely changed my mindset to instead be like. it's more important to make up my own interpretation of stuff rather than make sure everyone agrees it's accurate right? I can't even remember it right now but it completely changed the way I played games since like Bloodborne and Zeldas bc rather than worry about getting things instantly Right in my brain I would discover little lore pieces at my own time and instead try to put stuff together in my own way and idk games have been infinitely more fun since And it's inspiration machine to me !!

3) and most of all other people's art !!!! I could spend days browsing the internet just looking at all the amazing things people make and it's so contagious to me ! even if I couldn't ever create the kinds of things I enjoy seeing myself I can't help but feel so inspired and motivated to create something too no matter how it ends up!

creating an inspiration folder for myself that's full of just Anything like environments and character art and photos and colour schemes has been on of the best things I've done for myself! I rarely look at other stuff When I draw (for worse imo, like I rly need to get better at referencing) but if I ever feel stuck I can look through that and almost instantly find smth that kicks me in gear ! sometimes I see art and it's amazing and impressive and sometimes I see it and just think "man that looks like it was so Fun I want to have fun too!" and both work perfectly for me! :D

anyway uuuuh take pictures of nice things and save cool stuff there's always smth to be inspired by in little things! here's a little collection of random photos of my own from the past year that make me happy and also go !!!!!! (not a lot of city stuff tho bc usually ppl are on those )

I ended up going through my camera roll and it was so hard to pick stuff bc everything made me go !!! ocean and buildings are the big themes tho only one shows here haha

[arlenianchronicles]

Hello! I read your Dark!Maedhros AU a couple days back—thanks for replying to my tags about it and sharing it, it’s super cool! I hope you don’t mind me gushing about it? If it were a fic, I would leave a comment to show my appreciation, but in lieu of that I figured I’d send you an ask. I hope that’s alright (humble apologies if you’d rather just delete this).

The plot beats are so riveting and well thought out, also so in line with the heavy vibes and themes of canon! I love how it centers on Maedhros’s deterioration after so much trauma and loss—it’s heartbreaking, and imagining Maedhros on Morgoth’s side is terrifying! At the same time, the way you get him there is so painful and angsty!!!

I was really invested in the story, all the way from the initial loss of the twins and Maglor’s death. I could see it just getting worse and worse! Especially once the war was won for Morgoth. I think it’s such a clever twist/manipulation on the Oath that he would convince Maedhros that he’d basically fulfilled it by allying with his greatest enemies. That’s just so!!! Ah—scrumptious angst! Also I don’t know how you did it but the way you’ve crafted/told this story, it’s really got me thinking about how it must feel to be immortal, to be cursed to keep going and going. I feel like this AU really leverages the relentlessness of Elvish immortality, especially as it relates to lasting grief.

I love the idea of the twins being captives in Maedhros’s twisted, dark fae vibes court (which, that concept? Inspired!). The way his love has been twisted into something covetous feels so on-theme and so tragic! It’s like he’s been consumed by the thing that he lost/can’t have.

It was super exciting to see that you shared the entire plot breakdown/some of the best most gripping scenes. I read it all last week and knew I needed to send you an ask about it because it’s just such a good AU idea! Apologies if you’ve already answered this somewhere, but do you ever plan to write it out in full/post it anywhere? No pressure if not—thanks for sharing this AU, it’s amazing!

Hi there! Thank you so so much for your ask!! No need to apologize at all, I love receiving asks and comments (especially when it comes to my work hahaa It's just so much fun to see other people's reactions!) I had a big smile on my face while reading your thoughts loll So please feel free to gush as much as you’d like about the AU! :DDD

I’m really happy to hear that you were invested in the story, even when it was just an outline XD Maedros’ deterioration was lots of fun to figure out; the poor guy just can’t catch a break! And being immortal in this situation would definitely be painful, like, just being forced to watch the world deteriorate into a hellscape under Morgoth’s rule … It’s not a theme I thought of when I first started drafting this AU, but it’s definitely a welcome surprise! :''''D

I’m happy you like the dark fae concept for Maedros’ court! It’s one of those other things that I didn’t initially plan on, but once I started writing it out in my previous replies, it all just clicked (and I actually have a painting of his court coming soon, so keep an eye out! XDD)

Thank you so much again for sending me your ask, and for taking the time to read through my outline!! I love all comments, both in asks and tags <333 And please don’t apologize, it’s okay!! I currently don’t have any plans to write this AU out in a fanfic – the section with the twins isn’t fully outlined, and I usually get stuck while writing if I don’t have an outline to work off of loll ^^;; I’m also working on another fanfic at the moment, but once that one’s done, I could definitely look into working more on my dark!Mae AU! Thanks again!! <333