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zepskies · 4 months

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Every Second Counts - Part 1

Pairing: Russell Shaw x F. Reader

Summary: One date with your best friend’s brother leaves you wanting more, even though his questionable job and vagabond lifestyle make you want to guard your heart. When your brother falls into trouble, however, Russell is the first one you trust to help you find him.

AN: Finally, here we are at Part 1! Remember that A Line and a Half functions as our prologue here.

Word Count: 5.7K

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only for some mature thoughts. Fluff, angst and hurt/comfort, drug use, mentions of drug addiction and alcoholism, skeevy men, and a tinge of spice.~

💜 Series Masterlist

Part 1: "Permission Granted"

“Are you absolutely sure?” you asked, with your hands on your hips.

You wanted no miscommunication here, no read-between-the-lines mishaps, no subtext or nuance to bite you in the ass later. So here you stood in the middle of your best friend’s office, still at the Wyoming University campus after your last class.

Dory had to laugh at you. She pushed away from her desk and threw her hands up.

“Yes, for the love of God, you can grab a drink with my brother,” she said.

After brushing a lock of blonde hair behind her ear, she went to you and set her hands on your shoulders.

“You have my blessing,” she said. “All I ask is that you don’t scar me with any gushy details afterward.”

Your face began to heat up in a blush. You crossed your arms.

“All right, no one said there was going to be any of that,” you replied. “It’s just a date. Barely a date, mind you.”

“A-huh,” Dory said with a sneaking smile. “Out of curiosity, what was it about him that hooked you? You’ve been dodging Chris’s valiant attempts for like a month now.”

Chris was a French and Spanish professor. His office was on the same floor as yours, so you two occasionally crossed paths whenever you ventured into the teacher’s lounge.

He usually caught you in the morning while you were grabbing your free coffee fix at the Keurig. He’d chat you up about his classes and his dog and his new boat, and all the while you’d struggle to get a word in edgewise. Despite that, he was good-looking and pleasant, for the most part. It was just…

“I don’t know. He’s not my type, I guess,” you shrugged. You kind of liked conversations where both people got to speak.

“And Russell is?” Dory said, in a teasing tone. You chewed the inside of your lip, fighting a smile.

“I don’t know,” you admitted. “Kind of want to find out though.”

“Okay, well, let me know what you find,” Dory said, more wryly. You caught a bit of melancholy when her gaze drifted off. Your brows furrowed in concern as you drew closer, setting a hand on her arm.

“What do you mean?” you asked.

She was hesitant, but she eventually answered you with a confession.

“You know, it’s been about twenty years since I’ve seen him,” she said. “We’ve had entire lives already. I see him now, and there’s some of the Russell I knew when we were kids, but…there’s just a lot I don’t know about him, who he’s become.”

You could understand that. You squeezed her arm in sympathy.

“Well, he really seems to want to know you now,” you said. You remembered all the questions he asked you when he helped you carry your files back to your office after lunch today—most of them about Dory, about her career, your friendship, and ultimately, if she was happy.

“What happened to you guys?” you asked. “Why are you all so distant? Colter included.”

Dory’s face tightened. “It’s a long story. I’ve told you some of it. But basically, after our dad died, nothing was ever the same again.”

You dimmed at that. You knew their mother still lived in the cabin they grew up in, but Dory had never quite been able to tell you what happened to their dad. You’d never pushed the subject. You knew better than anyone what kind of pain that was.

“I just wish we’d been able to stay with each other. Me and my brothers, at least,” Dory said. But she adopted a smile for you, before she returned to her desk.

“Okay. Go on your non-date at your favorite bar with Russell. I’ll be here, grading papers until Judgment Day,” she said, with a small laugh that felt like a coverup for thoughts she no longer wanted to think about.

You let her do it. You grabbed your purse and work bag off the spare chair in front of her desk.

“So you’re sure,” you wanted to confirm. “One last chance for me to tell him I came down with food poisoning.”

Dory collected her stack of midterm papers and gave you a cheeky look that said, class dismissed. Then she clicked her red pen and pointedly looked down at the first batch of papers to read through.

You smiled. Okay, you thought, giving her a little wave goodbye when you turned to leave. You had just a couple of hours to drive home and get ready to meet Russell.

“Goodnight,” you called.

“Goodniiight,” Dory replied.

You heard the smirk in her voice without even having to look back.

After fighting through rush hour traffic, you were exhausted when you got home from work. Your tentative excitement and nerves about tonight gave you some new energy though, even if you thought those nerves were silly to have.

Barely a date, you reminded yourself, as you unlocked the door to your house. Barely a date, barely a date.

The Ring Camera beside the door chimed when you entered the house, signaling your arrival. You had to wrinkle your nose at the dank-ass smell that greeted you.

Frowning in annoyance, you dropped your stuff on the kitchen table for now and shucked off your heels. You made a beeline down the hall, to the bedroom that lied across from yours. You pushed it open without knocking. There you caught your older brother, Charlie, snoozing in his bed with the covers half pooling on the floor.

His room was a mess, as usual. Your gaze locked on the evidence of half a blunt on his nightstand and two smoked roaches beside it. You were glad it wasn’t remnants of white lines of powder, like times before, but there was also a large bottle of whiskey. It was almost empty, and hanging loosely from his hand.

He managed to raise his head a bit when you came in.

“Hey,” he said, blinking bleary eyes. He cleared his throat and tried to sit up.

You shook your head and picked around piles of dirty clothes and a couple of used paper plates on the floor. You swiftly grabbed the bottle from his hand and slammed it on the nightstand.

“You promised me, Charlie,” you snapped. “You promised me for the hundredth time that you’d quit all this shit. Where even were you last night? You weren’t home when I left for work this morning.”

He sighed, frowning at how loud you were, and sat up in bed. He swung his legs over the side and held his swimming head in his hands, resting his elbows on his knees. He ran a hand through his hair. It was nearly black, like Dad’s had been, but he’d inherited Mom’s lighter eyes.

“I got invited to a party,” he said. “I’m sorry, I know. This is the last time.”

You expelled a frustrated breath and shook your head.

“You’re a grown fucking man, Charlie! Do you really need me to give you the just say no speech?” you said.

“Look, I’m sorry. I don’t know how many times I can say it,” he said. He shut his eyes tight, probably trying to fend off a headache.

Good, you thought. Let that be a reminder of how bad he’d screwed up again.

“And while we’re at it, what about your half of the bills? You’re a week late,” you said, testily crossing your arms.

“Yeah, I’m a little behind,” he said. Once again, he cleared his throat past a wad of phlegm. He was still a bit crossfaded too, you could tell. “You know they cut my hours to part-time at the museum. I’ve, uh, I’ve been looking into getting another job—”

“I already paid the phone bill. And the internet, the water bill, the electricity,” you said. “The house may be paid off, but the least you can do is pay your half of living here.”

The longer you stared at him, seeing the guilt hidden behind drunken eyes, you realized he wasn’t just late on his half of the bills.

“How much?” you asked.

He frowned up at you. “What?”

“How much do you owe?” you said. Your voice was as cutting as your gaze. Charlie lowered his.

“It’s okay, don’t worry—”

“How much,” you pressed.

He looked up at you again, this time with pursed lips. After a beat, he sighed and gave in.

“About two grand,” he admitted.

You raised your eyes heavenward, muttering a curse. Your hands went to your temples as you had to pace the room. You were angry and exasperated in equal measure.

“Who the fuck do you owe two grand?!” you asked.

Charlie shook his head. “It’s better that I don’t tell you that.”

You paused. As you looked down at him, your anger dissolved into sadness, like it always did.

“If Mom and Dad could see you now, they wouldn’t recognize you,” you said.

Charlie fought not to react to that, his brows furrowing. Instead, he just looked down, unable to answer you.

“Charlie, you need help. I can’t keep doing this with you,” you said. Your shaky breath gave way to the burn of tears.

His red-rimmed eyes became glassy as well.

“I’m sorry,” was all he said.

He was always sorry. And you always had to be the one to nurse him back to health, pick up the pieces, pay the bills. You were exhausted. The bone-deep kind of tired that felt like gravity wasn't so much keeping you down, but pushing you.

“I’m going to ask for two things: do what you need to do to get paid, and clean up your shit. If you can’t accomplish that, then I’m taking you to rehab,” you said.

“You know I’ve tried that,” Charlie said, with a shrug of his shoulders. “Didn’t really work for me.”

“You left the program after two weeks!” you retorted.

“I did it on my own! I’ve been clean for months,” he argued.

“And what happened? You go to one party and all your good sense, all your training, mentally and physically—that all goes out the window?” you said. You had half a mind not to believe him.

“Yeah well, maybe just for one night, I wanted to relax without you harping on my back,” he said, glaring up at you. “Is that too much to fucking ask? For you to give me some goddamn slack?”

Your mouth fell open incredulously.

“I’m on your back?” you said. “Okay. I’ll get off. Do whatever the hell you want, Charlie. I’m done.”

You left his room in an angry huff. You headed over to your room so you could take a shower and start getting ready to meet Russell at Howley’s.

By the time you got to your bedroom, you heard the front door slam closed.

The truth was, you were no longer in a mood to have fun when you pulled up to Howley’s, but you needed to escape your house. Also, you weren’t someone who canceled on people last-minute, especially not on Dory’s own brother.

You found Russell waiting for you at the bar. He waved to you with a fifth of whiskey in hand and an easy grin. He’d saved you a seat beside him.

You found yourself smiling. Your mood began to lighten as you went over to him. He looked more or less the same, but this time the jacket and jeans combo was navy blue and dark wash, respectively. His hair was swept back, lightly gelled. You smelled the familiar, rich woodiness of his cologne when you drew near, along with a hint of spicy soap.

“Hey, there.” He greeted you with a warm hand on your back. He helped you into your seat.

“Hey, yourself,” you replied, and thanked him for the assist onto the tall stool. You’d opted for jeans and a blouse, paired with your favorite leather boots. It was less dressy than he’d seen you before, but that was “work mode.” This was a more casual affair, even if you’d spent at least twenty extra minutes on your makeup.

You were glad he picked a spot at the end of the bar though. It put some distance from the group of guys getting rowdy as they cheered at the football game playing on the TV.

“How was the rest of your day, Professor?” he asked. “And what’re you wanting to drink?”

You let out a long sigh and turned toward him, resting your elbow on the counter.

“Awesome. I’m going to need two shots of tequila and an order of something fried, and preferably covered with cheese, please,” you replied.

Russell’s grin deepened. “Okay, I’m thinking ‘awesome’ is code for something. But we can get started on that order of Forget Today’s Unfortunate Events.”

He flagged down the bartender with a raise of his hand, but he shot you a glance.

“Though I’m hoping it’s not all of today that you wanna forget,” he said.

Your lips threatened another smile, as the memory of your hand being swept up into his, and soft lips meeting the back of your hand filtered through your mind.

“Yeah, I don’t think that’s possible,” you said.

After about ten minutes of playfully debating the appetizer menu (you swore by the pretzel and beer cheese, but Russell had his eye on those spicy wings), he finally settled on ordering both.

“When in doubt, don’t go without,” he’d remarked.

You swept a pretty coil of hair over your shoulder and downed your tequila shots with a lime wedge. Meanwhile, Russell tried not to linger his eyes on the way your tongue swept over your finger to catch a drop of lime juice. Your nails were manicured, and the shade of the polish matched your lipstick.

Russell didn’t pretend to know the art and science of a woman’s wardrobe, but everything about you was thought out, it seemed, falling in line with what he’d expect from a (sexy as all hell) college professor. You’d also told him at lunch today that as of last year, you now had two doctorates: History and Ancient Studies.

Even with all that under your belt, you also seemed refreshingly down-to-earth, a lot like Dory in that sense. He could see why you two were friends.

“So, are you from here, or are you a transplant, like my sister?” he asked.

Dory hadn’t come to live in Wyoming until their aunt and uncle took her in, when she was about eight years old. Before last month, Russell hadn’t seen her since. It hurt his heart to think about, but he tried to focus on you.

You now seemed to be staring a bit listlessly at the glass of whiskey in his hands. He laid a hand on your arm and called your name.

“Hmm?” Your brows rose as you blinked to attention. “Oh! I’m sorry. Yes, I’ve lived here pretty much forever.”

“You okay?” Russell asked. “Tequila hit ya a little hard?”

You shook your head. “No, I’m sorry…”

You raised your hands up to your temples. You debated whether you wanted to open up about this, but…considering who Russell was, you thought he might just understand.

“Dory told me you’ve been trying to reconnect with your brother, right? Colter?” you said.

Russell nodded. He wasn’t sure how much Dory told you about their family business, but it dimmed his mood.

“Well, you could say I’ve got a brother issue of my own,” you said, laughing humorlessly. “You don’t have to talk about yours, but maybe you’ll understand… My brother is a veteran too. He was a Captain, air force pilot. He fought in Afghanistan, mainly.”

Russell processed that with a nod. “Yeah, I was there too. Special Ops.”

“Wow, okay. Then you know what it was like for him, coming back home,” you said. Your gaze fell to your empty shot glasses. “It was hard, after…”

“After?” he prompted.

You sighed. “Near the end, he lost half his unit in a raid, off of some flawed intel.”

Russell’s brows knitted together. Hmm. Grief, survivor’s guilt, feeling like you don’t belong.

He was starting to get a clearer picture of who your brother was. It struck at familiar chords inside himself that he wasn’t so comfortable with. He shifted in his seat, fingers flexing over his glass on the counter.

You didn’t notice, but you did push the shot glasses away from you.

“I helped him the best I could,” you said. “I got him a job at the museum I interned at when I was in undergrad. He’s there as a security guard, but it’s not really enough, you know? It’s like, nothing satisfies him. I just…I don’t think I know how to help him anymore.”

You couldn’t help it. Emotion bubbled in your throat, making it close up on you as tears stung in your eyes. Your lower lip wobbled, and you tried to turn your face away. Embarrassment coiled up in your chest and made your face hot.

You felt a hand cover yours on your thigh, squeezing warmly. You looked up and met Russell’s gaze, both sympathetic and understanding.

“I’m so sorry,” you said, trying to calm your shuddering breath. “This isn’t exactly first date material. I can’t believe I unloaded on you like that.”

“Hey, it’s okay,” he said. “Believe me, I get what your brother’s going through.”

He pushed the plate with the last piece of soft-baked pretzel over to you.

“You finish that if you want, then you go ahead and pick something else off the menu. I won’t even argue with you this time,” he promised with a grin.

It got you to laugh, at least, and he gave you a napkin for your tears.

God, get it together, you told yourself. You’re a damn mess.

“Thanks,” you said. You managed to smile as you blotted at one corner of your eye. You hoped you hadn’t just irreversibly smudged your mascara.

Russell surprised you by brushing his thumb against your other cheek, wiping a stray tear away. Your face began to warm with a blush.

“Again, I’m sorry for dumping on you. We had a fight right when I got home,” you admitted.

“What’s his name?” Russell asked.

“Charlie.”

“Older or younger than you?”

“Four years older,” you replied. “He enlisted a few years after he graduated high school.”

Russell flickered at a smile. Enlisted, huh?

Yet another thing he and Charlie had in common, except Russell hadn’t made it through high school in the classic sense.

“What do you think?” you asked.

“I think your brother sounds lost right now. I’ve known a lotta guys like him, unfortunately,” Russell admitted. “Walking back into civilian life, it ain’t easy. That I know my damn self. Just like I know a thing or two about being an older brother. He’s probably doing his best to keep it off your shoulders.”

You shook your head at that. Trying, maybe.

You weren’t even sure of that anymore. Still, it made you all the more curious about Russell and his family.

“I know I said I wouldn’t ask this, and you don’t have to answer. But did you and Colter have a falling out or something?” you asked.

Russell expelled a deep breath and took a sip from his glass. How was he supposed to navigate this minefield with you?

“You gotta understand that me, my brother, my sister, we didn’t grow up like a normal family,” he said.

“Yeah, I know,” you nodded. “Dory’s told me some of it. It sounded…rustic.”

He snorted. “Putting it mildly.”

He shook his head and drained the rest of his glass.

“Well, my brother’s got an idea about me that isn’t true,” he said.

Your head tilted in curiosity. “Which is?”

His lips briefly raised in a wan smile.

“We don’t gotta get into that one tonight. But uh, the truth is, I’ve tried reaching out to him several times now. He just doesn’t wanna hear from me,” said Russell.

You considered him for a moment. You laid a hand on his arm, covered by his jacket.

“Don’t give up,” you said, with a sigh of your own. “Despite some things I said to him today, I know I can’t. My brother’s the only real family I have.”

Russell grew curious then. “What about your parents?”

You gave a weak smile.

“They passed away when we were young, but…we don’t have to get into that one tonight,” you said, borrowing his words.

His expression fell. “Jesus. I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Thank you,” you accepted, twisting the napkin around your fingers.

An awkward lull of silence fell between you, until Russell nodded and blew out a breath.

“Well. Heavy, huh?”

You chuckled and rested your head against your hand.

“I know. Again, my fault,” you replied.

“It’s okay, swee—. Mmm,” he cut himself off, shooting you a knowing glance.

“Were you about to sweetheart me?” you asked playfully, nudging his hand. “You know how I feel about that.”

“No, ma’am. Not at all,” Russell shook his head. His smile gave him away though. You laughed and grabbed his arm.

“Come on,” you said.

He allowed you to lead him out of his seat. He already had a tab open, so he’d settle up with the bar later. “Where we going?”

“You’re gonna lose to me at pool,” you said with a smirk.

Russell laughed and wrapped his arm around your waist instead.

“Oh, okay. I’m gonna give you a run for your money, though,” he promised.

And he was true to his word.

Russell Shaw turned out to be a more than worthy opponent. You studied the board as you changed the angle on your cue stick no less than five times.

“You gonna make a move, or we going to be here all night?” he said.

He was smiling as he leaned against his own cue on the other side of the board. His clever moves had left you in a difficult position to get your three remaining solid-colored balls into the pocket.

“You hush. I’m thinking,” you said, fighting your own smile.

“Careful, you’ve got steam coming out of your ears,” he teased.

You shot him a narrowed look for that. But then you smiled, as the answer came to you. You walked around to his side of the board and nudged him with your hip.

“Excuse me, sir,” you said to him over your shoulder.

Russell made way for you, but his eyes followed the way you bent over to line up your shot. Namely the curve of your ass in those tight jeans. He could see you knew exactly what you were doing, in more ways than one.

You shot your shot. The solid green ball leapt over his white-striped blue one and managed to sink into the pocket. You straightened up and gave him a triumphant little smirk.

He tried to temper his smile (and ignore the way his cock twitched).

“All right, go on, do your little victory lap," he said. "But remember, I let you go first.”

“Like that matters,” you quipped back.

You went back to the other side of the board to line up your next shot. Russell noticed a pair of drunk men ambling your way from the bar, but before he could make a subtle move to put himself in between, one of the men’s gazes slid down your form and gave into the base urge to let out a low whistle.

And he slapped you right on the ass.

You gasped, grabbing hold of the pool table. Then your shock melted into ire.

Russell was already heading toward you with an angry frown of his own, but even he had to stop short, when he watched you throw a punch that cracked the drunken man across the bridge of his nose.

Good form, Russell thought, when the guy reared back with a howl. His nose dripped blood when his hands came away from his face.

His buddy started to raise his hackles, but that was when Russell stepped to your side. He angled himself toward you and loosely gripped his pool cue by his hip, like it was an extension of his arm. He was fully prepared to use it like one.

“Fucking bitch!” said the one who was still dabbing his nose in vain. He glared at you, his eyes watering involuntarily, while his friend tried to keep him upright. You rolled your eyes.

"You're the one who's crying, bitch," you returned. Russell held in a snort. He cleared his throat and looked on at the pair of idiots.

“I’d have a little sit down if I were you,” Russell told them, with a smirk. “Let that be a lesson to ya. And if it don’t stick? Well. Whatever you start, I can damn well finish.”

His steely gaze reinforced the promise of his words. The other men were still angry, but even drunks had some sense of self-preservation. They ambled toward the back of the bar to find another pool table.

Russell focused his attention back on you, finding you looking down at your hand, rotating your wrist and flexing your fingers.

“Well, look at you, slugger,” he said. You met his smile with one of amusement.

“That’s just what I needed tonight. A broken hand,” you quipped.

“Aw, it doesn’t look as bad as all that. But can I see?” he asked. You allowed him to take your smaller hand in his. Your knuckles were red and tender to the touch when he gently pressed. You hissed in pain.

Damn, she really gave it to him, Russell thought.

“Sorry,” he said, but your hand felt fine, at least. More than fine. His gaze flicked up to yours as his amused grin deepened. “Good hit though.”

If he liked you before, he might’ve fallen half in love with you right there.

You laughed through the pain. “Yeah, my brother did teach me something. Shit.”

Russell led you back to the bar after you grabbed your purse. There he called to the bartender for some ice. The guy nodded; he’d seen the entire exchange and was sympathetic.

You knew this sort of thing was just par for the course at this kind of bar, but they had the best drinks. Charlie had to carry you out of here on your twenty-first birthday, drunk off your ass. Not to mention, he’d punched out two handsy dicks that night.

You recounted the story to Russell over a couple more drinks. Your conversation was lighter then, filled with laughter and a warm, companiable feeling. He was still rather evasive about his job, but you supposed he had to be, since it was government contract work.

Private security, mainly. Or so he'd said. This man made you infinitely curious, and a bit apprehensive, if you were honest.

And yet, at some point while you two shared and laughed and split a hot sandwich with another round of beers, you realized it.

I like this, you thought. And I like him.

However, the night had to come to an end sometime. Your third involuntary yawn told Russell it was time to call it.

"I'm okay," you tried.

"Nah, you've gotta work tomorrow," he said. He signaled to the bartender. "Let me go ahead and close out my tab."

“Oh, I can pay for half,” you said, reaching for your purse now hanging from your hip.

“You kidding me? Put that away,” he said, guiding your hand with your wallet aside.

Smiling, you accepted his generosity with a small thank you. Then, you let him take up your sore hand again, just to carefully press the half-melted bag of ice over it.

“Feelin’ better?” he asked.

Your smile became softer. “Yeah.”

You had no doubt that this man, tall as he was, with his broad shoulders and the controlled way he carried himself, could’ve laid both of those drunken assholes onto their asses. His intimidating gaze had promised as much.

But his hands were gentle for you.

“I was about to win that game, no contest!” you said, laughing as you and Russell headed out of the bar and into the parking lot.

“Hey, hey, I still had time to win it back,” he argued. “I only had three more balls to go. I could’ve sunk that with my eyes closed.”

“Three balls, huh?” you said slyly, and maybe, a little tipsy. “Might wanna get that looked at.”

Russell snorted. “You think you’re funny, huh?”

“Hey, you laughed!” you said, pointing at him.

He shook his head, despite his amusement. He slowed to a stop in front of his car.

“Where’d you park, huh?” he asked.

“Over there,” you said, pointing several parking spaces down. Your eyes were drawn to his car, however. “Wow. This is your car?”

Russell grinned and patted the top of his black Chevy.

“Aw, yeah. That’s my baby,” he said. “She’s a Chevelle, 1967.”

You didn’t know much about cars, but you could see this was a classic beauty. You passed a hand over its sleek paint job without touching, so you didn't get any fingerprints on it. Though you quirked a smile over your shoulder at him.

“She?” you intoned.

“That’s right. She,” he confirmed.

You smirked and crossed your arms. You paused in front of the passenger door, and when Russell drew in closer, you had to crane your neck up to meet his warm gaze.

“Now, if I go in for a kiss goodnight, are you gonna deck me?” he asked, with a teasing glint in his eyes.

You tilted your head, your own eyes dancing.

“I’m sure you’re brave enough to find out,” you said.

Russell decided he’d take that bet.

He leaned in slowly. He made a show of hesitating, raising a brow, as if waiting for a blow. You were tempted to laugh.

But then he let loose a true smile, and he bowed his head to press his lips against yours. Your eyes fell shut, and your hands moved to flatten against his chest. A firm fucking wall. Jesus.

He circled his arms around your waist, bringing you in closer. Your fingers wound up in his hair, while he tilted his head to kiss you again. You met him with the same fervor with each new kiss, and the feel of your body, soft and pliant under his hands, each little sweet sound that you made, it all drove him to delve in deeper.

You moaned into his mouth at the first warm swipe of his tongue against yours. He tasted like the burn of good whiskey.

You pressed yourself flush against him on instinct. He found no other recourse but to back you up against the side of his car. His hand tangled into your hair, gripping, then easing through the soft strands.

Russell veered away from your soft mouth after a while, just to burn a line of warm, wet kisses along your jaw, and down your neck with the added rasp of his beard.

His lips found the sensitive spot where your neck met your shoulder. He kissed and sucked at your skin, even grazing with his teeth. You gasped softly in his ear, shuddering against him. You ran your hands over his shoulders and down his strong back out of a need to feel him.

His hands were heavy along the curve of your waist then, squeezing your hips. It all felt incredibly right. And by right, you meant body tingling, warmth churning in your lower belly, and wetness growing between your legs, for sure dampening your panties.

You tugged him back by his hair, so you could reach him for another steamy kiss.

“I’m staying at a motel, if you wanna…” he said, between kisses.

You paused against his lips, parting from him softly.

“Or not," he added. "Just thought I’d mention.”

You giggled, catching your breath, and then smoothing your hands down his chest. The faint throb of your core was telling you one thing, but the warning signals of your more cautious mind were telling you another. You thought for a moment…but then you sighed.

“How long are you really in town?” you asked.

His wet lips tugged to one corner, ruefully. “A few more days, probably.”

“Right,” you said with a frown. “Russell, I like you. I actually, I really do. If you were sticking around for a while, it’d be one thing. But you’re my best friend’s brother, and I—”

“No, I get it. I can’t predict when I’m gonna be able to swing back into town, and you’ve gotta live your life,” he said, but not without care. He curled an errant strand of hair behind your ear.

Your heart tugged, almost painfully.

“You’re a good guy, Russell Shaw,” you breathed. “Why can’t you be a good guy who’s staying?”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he said. Then he cringed, knowing how you felt about sweethearting men. “Ah, sorry—”

You smiled and covered his mouth with your fingers.

“It’s okay. You have permission to sweetheart me.”

After blinking his surprise away, his face eased into a grin.

“Then I’ll wear that badge with honor,” he said.

Your shoulders shook with laughter when you let your forehead fall against his chest.

Russell remained what he had been throughout the entire night: a gentleman, who accompanied you over to your car.

After another stolen kiss or two in front of your sedan, you parted ways from him with a bit of a heavy heart. You wondered if you made the right decision, or if you should’ve just gone for it for once, instead of second-guessing yourself like usual.

You did know this. The rumble of his Chevelle driving down the opposite road would be imprinted on your memory.

When you returned home, you realized that the house was empty, and in complete darkness.

Charlie still wasn’t home.

Worried, you flicked on the lights and began to text his cell, only to find a note for you on the kitchen counter.

And it worried you even more.

I’m sorry. I’m going to make it right.

— C.

AN: 😬 Well then! lol We're diving straight into the drama and feels on this one. What did you think of her "barely a date" with Russell? 😂

And where do you think we're going next with Charlie?

Next Time:

Dory was sat next to you on the couch, rubbing your back with sympathy and concern in her own eyes.

“You should call the police,” she advised.

You’d thought of that, but if Charlie was doing something he wasn’t supposed to, then depending on what it was, you didn’t necessarily want him locked up in a cell. He wasn’t a bad person, he was just…lost. You wanted him to get help.

You set down the butterknife beside the jar and turned to her, after drying your eyes the best you could.

“Do you think your brother would be willing to come back to Wyoming?” you said. After a beat of hesitation, you specified:

“Colter, the tracker.”

▶️ Keep Reading: PART 2

Series Masterlist

Ko-Fi Me ☕

Russell Shaw Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Russell S. Tag List:

@kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007

@wincastifer @ades106 @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb @roseblue373

@brianochka @branj19 @hazel-eye-coffee-shop-girl-blog @globetrotter28 @charmed-asylum

@waywardxwords @deanwinchestersgirl87 @this-is-me19 @rachiem4-blog @sweettimelady

@leigh70 @clinicallydepresso @xiphoidbones @skoveu @nyotamalfoy

@kmc1989 @jackles010378 @emily-winchester @waynes-multiverse @jessjad

@my-stories-vault @deans-spinster-witch @syrma-sensei @stellasfictionalworld @ultimatecin73

@jesllianaquilesrolonsworld @pieandmonsters @lhymer1995 @taehyungxjungkookistaekook @lovelystoriesaj

@nicksalchemy1 @spnwoman @onlyangel-444 @sexyvixen7 @illicithallways

@wolkenprinzessin007 @alwaystiredandconfused @carpenterswife @cheynovak @grilledcheeseandtomato

#Permission Granted #Every Second Counts #Part 1 #russell shaw #tracker #russell shaw x reader #russell shaw x female reader #russell shaw x you #russell shaw fanfiction #russell shaw fanfic #dory shaw #colter shaw #jensen ackles #jensen ackles characters #tracker fanfiction #tracker cbs #russell shaw series #tracker series #zepskies writes

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its-avalon-08 · 2 months

Note

Helloo! Can I pls request Carlos x Y/N who is a golf course bev cart girl? I love watching day in the life videos of bev cart girls on tiktok LOL and I think it'd be really interesting since Carlos loves golf! Thankuuu💘

gold clubs and nike shoes (cs55)

✦ pairing - carlos sainz x female!reader

✦ genre - fluff, a little angst, hate, comfort

how they met :

The sun was just beginning to rise over the lush green fairways of the exclusive golf club. Y/N was finishing her morning routine, making sure the beverage cart was stocked with cold drinks, snacks, and anything else the golfers might need. She loved her job, especially the quiet moments in the early morning before the course got busy.

Today felt like any other day, but little did she know, it was going to be a day she'd never forget.

As she drove the cart down the path towards the first hole, she noticed a group of golfers teeing off. Among them, one man caught her eye. He was tall, with dark hair and a confident stance. It took a moment before she recognized him.

"Is that… Carlos Sainz?" she murmured to herself, her heart skipping a beat.

Carlos had a break between races and decided to indulge in one of his favorite pastimes, golf. He was here with a few friends, hoping for a relaxing day on the course.

As Y/N approached the group, she put on her best professional smile. "Good morning, gentlemen! Can I offer you anything to drink or a snack to start your round?"

Carlos turned and his eyes met hers. For a moment, he seemed taken aback, then he smiled warmly. Her smile and wavy hair had him awe-struck. "Good morning! I'll have a water, please."

"Sure thing," she said, handing him a bottle of water. "Anything else for you guys?"

The rest of the group placed their orders, and as she handed out the drinks, Carlos couldn't help but strike up a conversation. "Do you work here every day?"

"Most days," she replied, glancing up at him. "It's a great job, especially on beautiful days like this. You must be Carlos Sainz, right?"

He chuckled. "Guilty as charged. You follow Formula 1?"

"I do, actually. I think it's amazing what you guys do. The speed, the skill… it’s incredible."

Carlos grinned. "Well, thank you. It's always nice to meet a fan. What’s your name?"

"Y/N," she said, smiling back. "Nice to meet you, Carlos."

As the day went on, Y/N found herself crossing paths with Carlos and his friends multiple times. Each time, they exchanged a few words, gradually getting to know each other better. By the time they reached the back nine, Carlos was deliberately timing his stops to coincide with her rounds.

At the fourteenth hole, Carlos finally decided to take a chance. As Y/N handed him another bottle of water, he asked, "So, Y/N, what do you do when you're not brightening up the golf course?"

She laughed. "Well, I’m studying part-time and I love traveling whenever I get the chance. How about you? When you’re not racing, that is."

"Golf, obviously," he said with a wink. "And I love traveling too. Maybe we could share some travel stories over coffee sometime?"

Y/N felt her cheeks heat up. "I’d like that."

The round eventually came to an end, and Carlos knew he had to make his move before it was too late. As Y/N was getting ready to drive back to the clubhouse, he walked over.

"Y/N," he began, a bit more serious now, "I really enjoyed talking to you today. I'd love to see you again, off the course. What do you say we grab that coffee?"

Her smile widened. "I'd love that, Carlos. Here," she said, pulling out a small notepad and pen from the cart, "let me give you my number."

He took the note, his smile growing even bigger. "Perfect. I’ll call you soon."

As he walked back to his friends, Y/N couldn't help but feel a rush of excitement. What started as a typical day on the golf course turned into something extraordinary. And for Carlos, a simple round of golf had led to meeting someone truly special.

the first i love you :

The evening had been tense. Carlos and Y/N returned to her apartment after a long day on the golf course. Y/N had dealt with an inappropriate customer at work, leaving her shaken and upset. Carlos was furious, but he tried to keep his anger in check.

As they entered the apartment, Carlos slammed the door behind him. Y/N stood near the kitchen counter, trying to compose herself. Carlos paced the room, his frustration evident.

“I can’t believe that guy today,” Carlos said, his voice tight with anger. “What an absolute jerk!”

Y/N sighed, trying to stay calm. “It’s part of the job, Carlos. I deal with stuff like that sometimes. It’s fine.”

“No, it’s not fine!” Carlos exclaimed. “You shouldn’t have to put up with that crap. I hate seeing you go through that.”

Y/N shook her head. “It’s my job, Carlos. I’m fine. It’s not the end of the world.”

Carlos stopped pacing and turned to face her, his expression serious. “You know what? You don’t have to keep working there. I have more than enough to support us. I want you to quit that job and focus on what makes you happy.”

Y/N was taken aback. “I appreciate that, but I like working. I want to be independent. It’s important to me.”

Carlos’s frustration reached its peak. “Y/N, this isn’t just about the job. I care about you more than anything. I love you, and it’s killing me to see you hurt. I need you to understand that!”

Y/N’s eyes widened in shock. The words hung in the air between them, raw and unfiltered. She was speechless for a moment, her heart racing as she processed his confession.

“Carlos…” she managed to say.

Carlos moved closer, his voice softening but still filled with intensity. “I love you, Y/N. I don’t want you to face that kind of disrespect. You deserve so much more than that. And if it means you don’t work there anymore, then so be it. I just want you safe and happy.”

Y/N felt a wave of emotions crashing over her. She stepped towards him, her voice trembling with emotion. “Carlos, I… I don’t know what to say. I didn’t expect this. I love you too.”

Without another word, Y/N reached up and kissed him, her lips pressing against his with a mix of passion and relief. Carlos responded, pulling her into a tight embrace. The kiss was full of unspoken feelings and raw sincerity.

When they finally broke apart, Y/N looked into his eyes, her gaze steady but firm. “I want to be independent. I want to work and make my own way. It’s important to me, even if it means dealing with tough situations. But I want you to know that I love you too, and your support means everything.”

Carlos’s shoulders relaxed a little, and he took a deep breath. “I understand. I just want you to be safe and happy. And I’ll always be here to support you, no matter what.”

Y/N nodded, her eyes glistening with tears of gratitude and love. “Thank you, Carlos. I know we can get through anything together.”

They held each other close, both finding comfort in their mutual declarations of love. The argument and the pain were overshadowed by the deep connection they shared, making their bond even stronger.

In the midst of their emotional turmoil, Carlos and Y/N’s love was reaffirmed, showing that true understanding and support could overcome any challenge.

standing up to hate :

Carlos had been scrolling through his phone, his mood darkening as he saw the comments and posts about his relationship with Y/N. It had been a few months since they’d started dating, and while they’d shared many happy moments, not everyone was supportive. The negativity was starting to weigh on Y/N, even though she kept a brave face.

Carlos was in the paddock at the latest race, talking with some of the other drivers. He glanced over at Y/N, who was chatting with a few friends. She seemed a bit off today, and Carlos could tell that the recent online backlash was affecting her. He had to do something. He was not going to let deranged fans make the woman he loved unhappy.

carlossainz55 just posted!

liked by oscarpiastri, landonorris and others

carlossainz55 Hey everyone, I usually keep my personal life private, but today I need to address something important. Recently, there have been some comments and messages about my relationship with Y/N. I want to make it clear that Y/N is an incredible person and she means the world to me. I’m so grateful to have her in my life, and the negative comments really hurt her and myself. She is an incredible person inside and out and if you think otherwise you do not know her well enough. You are NOT A FAN if you continue to hate on my loved ones. The hateful comments from the ones who hide behind the screen are cowardly and hurtful. I’m sharing this because I want to stand up for her and show my love and support towards the woman I have the honor of calling mine. We’ve been through a lot together, and I am proud to call myself her boyfriend. Thank you to those who have supported us, and to those who haven’t, I hope you can understand that love is something we should celebrate, not criticize. and grow up or get off the internet. I love mi amor💛

view all comments

yourusername i love you my love! i can't believe you just did this

carlossains55 anything for you amor

LandoNorris Carlos, you’re a legend for this. 💪🏽 Love you both!

DanielRicciardo: Absolutely right, mate. Y/N’s awesome, and anyone who says otherwise doesn’t know what they’re talking about. Cheers to both of you!

OscarPiastri: Carlos, you’re a class act. Sending love to you and Y/N. 🌟

CharlesLeclerc: Proud of you for standing up for Y/N. She’s lucky to have you, and so are you to have her. ❤️

MaxVerstappen33: Proud of you carlitos! Y/N we love you <3

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vxntagedior · 2 years

Note

Can you do a Bucky barnes x stark reader, preferably with an age gap. Like maybe they are trying to hide their relationship but somehow it got out.

dog tags

summary | bucky's prized possession is what exposes your relationship with him

pairing | bucky barnes x fem!stark!reader

warning | fluff, secret relationship, angst-ish

word count | 1.0k

“Buck.” You whispered, tilting your head back even farther, giving him more access to his neck. “Someone’s gonna catch us.”

As much as you didn’t want to be out in the open, you weren’t trying that hard to get him to remove himself from the crook of your neck.

Letting out a quiet moan when Bucky sucked on your neck, gripping onto his hair tighter.

“You say that babydoll,” He whispered into your ear, “your brain is saying one thing but your body is saying another.”

Finally being able to push him away, you kissed him one more time, your hands gripping onto his collar, your tongue gliding against his bottom lip, before pushing into his mouth. His tongue fought with yours, trying to gain the dominance, knowing it really wasn’t working.

“Goodnight Mr. Barnes.” You whispered, starting to walk into your arm, your hand finally slipping from his.

“Goodnight Miss. Stark.”

Coming down for breakfast the next morning, woken up by the F.R.I.D.A.Y. for the third time this week, changing out of your pajamas and brushing your teeth before coming down.

“Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed again.” Sam snorted, seeing your face, your eyes droopy, sleep marks still present on your face.

“Shut up.” You muttered, your voice barely above a whisper. “How are you even awake?”

Sam just laughed, pouring you a cup of coffee, setting it down by your usual spot at the table.

You ignored all the conversations around you, continuously drinking your coffee, hoping the caffeine would kick in at any minute now.

“Jesus, Y/n!” Hearing your name, you looked up to see your brother looking at you, his mouth wide open and eyes practically bulging out of their sockets, “Who attacked you?”

Confused, you looked dumbfounded at him. Seeing Natasha next to him, pointing towards your neck, you looked down, seeing some hickies left on your collarbone and assuming there were more on your neck.

“Oh.” You sighed, giving a small smile, “Sorry, kind of got a little heated last night.”

The team thought you were going out with a guy you had met a few weeks ago at the coffee shop, something to steer them off the path of you and Bucky being together.

Your relationship with him was going on 5 months now and you still hadn’t told the team. Neither of you weren’t in the mood for everyone to know and Bucky knew if the press heard about it, the two of you would plastered over the whole city in no time.

“I want to give you something.” You shifted yourself to sit up on your side, looking over at Bucky. Twisting to grab something off his nightstand before looking back at you. “I want you to wear them.

Resting them in your palm, you looked down at his dog tags. You remembered him telling you that was one of the only things that he kept before he was captured, and he kept it with him as a keep sack.

“B,” You whispered, running your finger over the grooves of his name, “I can’t take these.”

“I want to have them.” Taking them he placed them over your head, letting them fall right between your collarbones. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

You stayed in the command room that was able to hold all signals whenever someone went on missions.

It was Bucky’s first solo mission with the team and you were more than nervous. Your eyes looked at every screen, your finger fiddling with his dog tags.

“How long?” You turned to see Steve, standing by the doorway, not knowing how long he was there.

You just sighed, “6 months.”

Steve could tell the minute you left how on edge you were and seeing his dog tags confirmed it all.

Walking towards you, Steve wrapped an arm around your shoulder, pulling you into his chest. “He’s okay, you know how he is, he’ll be back all fine.”

You just simply nodded, your hand still clutching onto his dog tags. Giving you another squeeze, Bucky left you to your own accords.

The mission lasted for another two days, and when you saw that the Quinjet was getting closer and closer to New York, you made your way up to the tarmac. The rest of the team was already there when you arrived, seeing the Quinjet made its way through the clouds.

Watching as the Quinjet landed, you were impatient waiting for him to come out. Watching as the landing strip opened, seeing Bucky walk down the steps, you couldn’t hold it in anymore.

Looking up, Bucky saw you running up towards him, instantly wrapping your arms around him. Letting out a grunt, he wrapped an arm around your waist, lifting you slightly off the ground as he continued to walk towards the rest of the Avengers.

The rest of the team looked shocked at you, seeing you continue to hold onto Bucky.

“Uh, what is this?” Tony looked at the two of you, mostly you.

“Surprise.” You whispered towards your brother, still stuck to Bucky’s side. “We’re together.”

“Why did you keep it a secret?”

“I knew.” Steve interjected.

“We did too.” Clint gestured towards the rest of the team. You looked over at them confused, “You’re not that slick, and Tony was just too obsessed with himself to notice you and Barnes are together.”

You looked up at Bucky who was already looking down at you.

“Missed you.” He whispered, leaning down to press a kiss onto your lips.

“Gross!” You turned to see your brother looking like a teenage girl. “I know everyone knows I’m not Barnes’s best friend but if you hurt my little sister, I’ll personally send you to a living hell.”

“Of course Stark.” Bucky nodded. Pulling you with him, he took you back into his apartment.

“Don’t have to hide anymore.” He whispered in your ear, tucking his head into your neck, pressing open-lip kisses all over.

“Buck.” You whispered, threading your fingers through his hair before pulling him off you. “If I’m not on your bed in the next 30 seconds, I’m leaving.”

Letting out a gasp, seeing everything upside down and over Bucky’s shoulder as he carried you towards the bed, dropping you down like a sack of potatoes.

Smiling, you removed his gear, pulling you closer towards him.

“Good to have you back Sargeant.”

fin.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x fem!reader #bucky barnes x girlfriend!reader #bucky barnes x stark!reader #bucky barnes x fem!stark!reader #bucky barnes fluff #stark!reader #bucky barnes

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luci-in-trenchcoats · 4 months

Text

He's My Man (Part 4)

Summary: The reader and Russell's flirting finally boils over as they come to a decision about what path they want to go down together. But their happy bubble is about to burst...

Masterlist

Pairing: Russell Shaw x reader

Word Count: 3,900ish

Warnings: language, gun shot injury mention, angst, fluff, smut, stalker

A/N: Ahhh! 👀

__________

Russell Shaw growling against the column of your throat was enough to make anyone spread their legs in your defense. You didn’t mean for things to get so heated so fast. You were only supposed to do this if you were the real deal, right?

Well, that thought went out the window when Russell dropped to his knees and unceremoniously yanked your pants and underwear clean off. Large hands splayed on your thighs, Russell smirking up through his lashes at you.

“Y-You just going to kneel there all pretty or what?” you asked, voice more than a few octaves higher than normal.

“Oh, I can do a lot on my knees,” he teased. He slid his hands under your thighs, slipping around the tops of them. His fingertips dug into the flesh harshly and then he was pulling you forward so fast you nearly fell off the top of the counter. You heart nearly lept from your chest when he buried his head between your legs, an ungodly yelping sound escaping your lips.

You could fucking feel him wearing that damn smirk as he devoured you.

“Russ,” you breathed out, hands shooting to his hair, his tongue toying with your clit in wonderfully torturous circles. He encouraged you, gripping your legs harder, bring you closer, practically suffocating him.

A deep coil of pressure was building in your core, Russell leaving your clit for only the briefest moment to taste between your folds.

“Fucking f-fuck, Shaw. D-don’t tease,” you shuddered when his tongue returned to your clit, more pressure behind it. You could feel yourself building faster, skin flush. You tugged on his strands, Russell groaning against you. The sound made your toes curl and you did it again, Russell tightening his hold on you. Your skin would be littered with his touch for days and god, that made you want it all the more.

He zeroed in your clit with a ferocity that had you on the edge of orgasm, the sharp peak of pleasure right there. You felt that smirk again and with a singular flick of his tongue, you were coming. Hard. And he didn’t fucking stop. Your orgasm went on and on and on, your legs squeezing him, determined to rip every ounce of pleasure this man could deliver out.

But Russell still didn’t stop torturing you. He just kept going, tongue swiping circles over your sensitive clit until your felt a fast build and were exploding again, your jaw dropping in a silent scream. You were shaking when he licked a final line through your folds, skin covered in a thin layer of sweat. Russell easily pulled your legs away from him so he could sit back on his heels, staring up at you as he licked his lips.

He smirked when he rose, watching your chest rise and fall quickly. He leaned in close and held up your soaked lilac underwear, dangling it off one finger.

“How’s my queen of darkness doing?” Your heart was still hammering in your chest, Russell smiling as usual when he brushed his lips to your ear. “You think you’re speechless now? Just wait until I get a chance properly worship you.”

“Jesus fuck, Russell.” You stared up at him with big, satisfied, scared as hell eyes. But Russell was more than pleased with that reaction it seemed since he landed a sweetly possessive kiss against your lips. He grasped your chin with his thumb, turning you into it before letting you have a fleeting taste of control. He pulled back and winked, gently setting the underwear in your lap.

“I’m going to buy you that matching bra. Lilac is so your color,” he grinned, licking his lips as he looked down to where you were exposed to the room, slowly dragging his eyes back up. He whistles as he went over to the fridge and took out a bag of tomatoes. “I’m going to get started on the soup.”

“T-The soup?” you asked, shakily planting your feet on the ground, one hand on the counter, the other gripping the underwear.

“I was going to make you grilled cheese, remember? Tomato soup is a given. Always better from scratch.” You blinked slowly, Russell chuckling and ruffling your hair. “Why don’t you go take care of yourself and I’ll be here when you’re all done. Alright?”

“You don’t want me to…” you glanced down at the tent in his sweats, Russell frowning.

“This ain’t a quid pro quo household. We have all the time in the world for that and right now, all I want to do is continue making this the best damn lunch of your life.” He slipped past and turned on a small radio on the counter, taking his phone out and tapping a few times before Taylor Swift started playing through the speakers. You spun around, Russell staring back. “Yes?”

“Nothing. I’ll be back.” You scurried out of the kitchen, shaking your head as Russell turned the volume up. With one last glance over your shoulder, you watched him bopping along, back to you as he started to dice up the tomatoes.

Who the fuck was this guy?

Ten minutes later, you were exiting the shower after rinsing the sweat off your skin. You stood wrapped in a bath sheet in Russell’s master suite, finding a door to a walk in closet after a moment. You’d grabbed a new pair of underwear before washing up, this one a deep green that matched Russell’s eyes. But you needed some new clothes and, well, you were pretty sure he wouldn’t mind.

It was easy enough to find some joggers on a shelf cubby but Russell had an obnoxious amount of shirts for a guy. Dress shirts. Flannels. Henleys. Sweaters. Yeah, Russell was a fucking cable knit sweater guy and you were really struggling with why the hell he was single at this point.

But in his band shirts, specifically the tour ones because this man’s organizational skills rivaled Martha Stewart, you found one that made you grin.

You threw it on, sans bra, and exited back to the kitchen. Russell was working over a pot on the stove, stirring something delicious smelling with a wooden spoon. Unfortunately, he wasn’t shirtless or wearing that zip up anymore.

But the tight white t shirt made his shoulders and biceps look massive. Yeah, you were okay with this look.

“Is there anything you can’t do?” you teased, walking around the island and joining him at his side. You hummed your approval at the creamy looking soup that was simmering.

“Ah, ah,” he said, pushing on your forehead with a single finger, his concentration on the soup as he stirred it. “Don’t bribe me with compliments. I thought I told you to relax.”

“Yes, sir,” you said, patting his ass as you went past. Russell stifled a groan as you sat at one of the stools at the island, criss crossing your legs. “You like that, Russ? When I do what you say? Sir?”

“Sir’s going to spank your ass later for that.” You laughed lightly, Russell debating something it seemed before he added more salt and then nodded. He gave it one last stir and then put the spoon down, turning to you with a smile. “You into that kind of thing, Qark?”

“Qark?” you asked. He shrugged as he left the kitchen for the bar cart nearby, picking up a decanter and pouring two glasses.

“See, I love your nickname but queen of darkness doesn’t roll off the tongue all the time. Therefore, Qark for short.” You raised your eyebrows when he handed you the drink. “If you don’t like it-”

“You’re sweet.” You smiled, taking hold of his free hand with yours. “I like it. The nickname and whiskey.”

“Figured you would.” He set his glass on the counter, cocking his head. “My Eras tour shirt. Interesting choice.”

“Did you actually go to the tour?” He grinned, taking his glass and going to the other side of the island. “Really? On a date or something?”

“One of my friends had floor tickets, invited a few of us guys after his wife and friends got sick. Not ashamed to admit I’m a swiftie now.”

“You’re really something else, aren’t you.” Russell cocked his head. You grasped your drink with both hands. “I just mean…you’re ex-special ops. You do black ops now. You grew up in the middle of nowhere with a dad that taught you how to survive. You’re not supposed to be so…not toxic.”

“I’ll admit I’ve spent some time in the dark corners of life.” He took a long drink and swallowed, his eyes full of softness and wonder when he met yours. “You know why I call you the queen of darkness?”

“My cheery personality?” you joked. Russell smiled, leaning his forearms against the counter over at you.

“Queen’s run shit. Yeah, your life was fucked but you were so…bright.” You laughed, sipping from your glass. “I’m serious. You with your fucked up life loved your coffee. Did you know you savor every sip and smile after each one? You love your danishes like it’s the best thing on earth. You worked for a mob and wore yellow imported pajamas that are the softest thing I’ve ever touched. Your house was so warm and cozy. Soft lights. Candles. You had a romcom on and were having a pizza and beer for dinner like a date night for yourself. You’re the queen of darkness because it could have ruined you. It could have destroyed you. But you owned it, you ran that shit into the ground and you fucking glowed through it all.”

A response caught in your throat, Russell reaching out, resting his hand over yours.

“I can’t imagine how bright you’re going to shine now that you’re free of all of that my little Qark.”

“Why me?” you whispered, letting him lace your fingers together.

“A king needs a queen,” he whispered, squeezing your hand. “My dark corners are a bit brighter since I met you.”

“We barely know each other,” you whispered.

“To be fair, most couples don’t know each other when they starts out so we’re ahead of the game if you think about it.” You lowered your head with a tiny smile. “We know the important bits.”

“I suppose we do.” You squeezed his hand in return, Russell nodding with a smile. “Look at you. Got a freeloading unemployed girlfriend living in your house. You really got it going on.”

“Hell yeah I do.” He lifted your hand, kissing the back of it. “We’ll go slow. Let you get some faith in me first.”

“Thank you, Russell,” you said.

“Don’t have to thank me for that,” he said before standing tall and clapping his hands together. “Alright. Let’s make some of those sandwiches.”

You had to admit Russell hadn’t been bragging about making your lunch the best of your life. He cooked a damn good grilled cheese and his homemade soup was worthy of a restaurant. After he packed away the leftovers, you settled outside on the porch near the fire, Russell tucking you in under his arm.

“Have you ever killed anyone?” he asked. You turned your head up, shaking your head.

“I’ve lost a few patients before but I know it’s not the same. Have you…” you asked. Russell hummed, gaze on the continued downpour surrounding you. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“I’m not proud of taking lives but I never took one I didn’t absolutely need to if that makes sense.”

“You were a soldier. You doing bad things kept a lot of people safe. You protected them.” He was quiet, his thumb absently rubbing your arm. “Bad guys don’t do what you did for me. You and Colter went out of your way for me. You’re not the monsters you hunt.”

“I know. Sometimes I just worry I’m a black hole for crap. I don’t want you feeling like you’re trading one bad life for another.”

“Black holes don’t go to Taylor Swift concerts or wear sweaters or do extremely dangerous things for strangers because it’s the right thing to do.” He rested his head on your shoulder with a satisfied hum. “You’re good, got it?”

“Yeah. I need to sort out work on Monday. Put in my notice. We both need fresh starts.”

You wrapped an arm around his waist, Russell snuggling closer. “And you cuddle? Come on, there’s got to be something wrong with you.”

“The whole killer thing?” he chuckled.

“No, we’re not doing that shit.” You gripped his chin the same way he had to you earlier, forcing him to look at you. “Understand?”

“Okay,” he said quietly. “I mean there is something I’m not good at if you really want to know.”

“Yeah?” He nodded.

“It’s kind of embarrassing,” he sighed. You ran a hand through his hair, tilting your head.

“I’m sure only you think that. Come on. Couples share secrets and stuff, right?”

“Well…alright,” he sighed, looking up at you with a long drawn out inhale. “I’m really not good at not being perfect at everything. It’s a struggle really to interact with you common folk.”

You lightly punched his bicep as he fell to the side with a fit of giggles. “Russell Shaw!”

“Oh, come on. You lobbed that one up in the air and it was just waiting for me,” he laughed. You flopped yourself on top of him. Meanwhile, Russell only started to giggle again. “Oh no. I’m trapped. Whatever shall I do?”

“You know, Colter don’t talk a whole lot but you get a few beers in the guy and he loosens up,” you said, rolling your head, side to side. You stretched out your arms in front of you, Russell grinning up at you as you straddled his hips. “Apparently, you were incredibly ticklish as a child. Let’s see if that still holds up.”

“Wait! Truce!” he said, holding up his hands, your own just inches from his underarms. You narrowed your eyes, waiting for an explanation.

Approximately two and a half seconds later, you were flat on your back on the couch, staring up at him, Russell smirking as he pinned your wrists down by your head.

“You dirty dog,” you said, Russell brushing his lips against yours. “That is the last time I ever fall for that. You know I’m going to torture you with tickles now. You’ve sealed your fate.”

“I’d rather be tortured in a more…pleasurable way by you. I’ll be a very good boy for you,” he murmured, kissing under your jaw. “I take my punishments very well.”

“Russell,” you groaned. “Do not turn me on again. I wear to god I’m not taking another shower today.”

“We’ll take a raincheck on my punishment,” he said, nipping lightly at your neck. Then he was sitting up and releasing you, holding up his hands. You propped yourself up on your elbows, licking your lips. “Yes, my queen?”

“Why don’t we cool things down for a beat so we can actually take this slow like we mean to.” He sat back further, allowing your space to sit up. “How about I run to the store for a few hours, buy some clothes that actually fit me and you can get some rest too. I know you’ve barely slept in days.”

“I won’t say no to a nap.” He scratched his bandage, pulling it away when you tsked him.

“Don’t rip your stitches. It’s still too early for them to be out. I’ll pick you up some supplies since I doubt you remembered to bring those with you.”

“Thanks,” he said, thunder crackling overhead. “Take my raincoat from the front closet. And be careful driving. Just wait in the store if it’s coming down too hard. And hit the outdoor store for a jacket and-”

“I’ll be fine, Russ. S’just a little rain.” You got up with a stretch and cupped his cheek, tired green eyes softly looking up. “Sleep. I’ll stop by the grocery store on the way back, make us some pasta for dinner later, nice and warm on a chilly night.”

“Yes, mam,” he hummed, turning into your touch before letting you go. “All the big box stores and grocery store are next town over, you drove through it to get here.”

“Got it. I’ll be back soon, Russell.”

“Don’t be too long.”

Three Hours Later

You were happily humming to yourself in the aisle of a semi-busy grocery store. Apparently bad weather didn’t stop the locals from being out and about. You’d hit a clothing store, an outdoor one and had at least a week’s worth of clothing to get you through until you could figure out how to get stuff from back in Virgina to here. You’d ditched Russell’s sweats and jacket for a pair of dark wash jeans and a black rain coat that you weren’t drowning in as you walked the aisles of the large grocery store in search of the pasta section. Your next black rainboots squeaked against the linoleum but as you’d noticed, most everyone you saw out was in a pair.

After a few minutes you found it and started to debate what kind of pasta to make. Was Russell a wine sauce kind of guy? Probably. Mushrooms might be a bit too much for a first meal. People had strong opinions on mushrooms. Maybe something more palatable like some chicken and a few vegetables in a white wine sauce.

“Still talk out loud to yourself I see.” Your heart jumped into your throat when you heard that voice. You turned to the man by your side with a basket in hand, his dark gaze locked on you. “Y/N.”

“Owen,” you breathed out. He looked like shit. His baseball cap and hood did nothing to hide the black eye and split lip. The broken nose and dark bruises under his eyes. The side of his face was littered with deep red, blotchy marks that hadn’t been properly tended to and would leave nasty scars behind. Owen was a creep yet he had been attractive. But the handsome playboy was gone. This Owen was marked and you could feel his new levels of rage radiating off of him under that thin layer of ease.

“You seem surprised to see me.” He reached out and, shockingly, gently tucked your damp hair behind your ear. But his touch gave you no comfort like Russell’s. If there weren’t so many people around, you would have already been running for it. “Don’t worry. You’re safe now.”

“Safe?” you whispered, spotting the gash that hadn’t been stitched near his hairline. He nodded, pressing in close.

“I know Elpine wormed his way into our crew and everything got fucked. I know he had you kidnapped before it all went down so he could keep you after it was all over. He’s dead, baby. They all are. His crew. Ours. There’s no one else left. We can start over out west, maybe even here if you like it. It’ll be different but maybe we needed a change. I was so busy with work and trying to live up to my dad’s memory, I’ve been ignoring you. I wasn’t there for you and I’m sorry. It’ll be different this time.”

You took a step back but Owen’s hand was on your arm, mistaking the fear in your eyes.

“I know, Baby. Change is hard but we’ll get through it. Is the man that took you here? Or did you escape?”

Fuck. You needed to get out of here and back to Russell now.

“I…killed him,” you said quietly, piecing it together as Owen stared right through you. “He was keeping me nearby. In a house. I thought I was all alone and knew I couldn’t go to the police cause of who we are and…so he’s there. He said it was some vacation house so it was abandoned. I was going to lie low there until I figured out my next move. It’s safe.”

“Okay,” he said, nodding a few times. “Okay, good plan. We’ll grab some food and crash there a few days until I can get my hands on my money.”

“How’d you find me?” you braved, Owen tossing the cheapest box of elbows he could find in his basket.

“Oh. I put a tracker in your phone and car years ago just in case someone grabbed you. Hey,” he said, making you flinch. “I know you like to go to your little cafe bakery shit on Saturday mornings so we’ll find a place where you can, alright?”

“Y-You’ve been following me?” you asked, Owen tossing in some off brand spaghetti sauce.

“Hey,” he said with a smile that you assumed was meant to be reassuring but made your stomach turn. “You didn’t want any guys with you so I had to keep tabs on you another way, right? It was a good thing too.”

“Right,” you said, turning around, praying Russell would somehow magically appear at the end of the aisle.

“Where the fuck is the kraft mac and cheese…” he muttered.

“Uh, down the aisle,” you said, forcing yourself to turn around with a smile like he was your savior. “I’m so happy you’re here. I’m going to pop in the baking supplies and get some stuff to make your favorite cookies for my hero.”

“Hell, yeah! Just don’t take too long,” he said. You hummed as you quickly walked past and down a few aisles. You ripped out your phone, dialing fast.

“Well hello, queen of-”

“Owen. Is. Here,” you grit out, looking behind you for any sign of him. “He’s fucked up but he’s alive and he thinks I killed you. I’m taking him back to your place where he thinks we can hide out.”

“He didn’t hurt you did he?” he asked. You closed your eyes, heart relaxing for a beat. That was the difference between the two men right there. One actually cared and the other only about what he thought belonged to him. Owen didn’t even ask if you were okay.

“I’m fine, just shook up at seeing him. I figured if I can get him there, you can get the jump on him?”

“Damn straight I will, my smart girl. Just get him in the house and then make an excuse to go back out to the car. Don’t come in and run if things get sketchy between now and then. Don’t let him see you on the phone.”

“I know. I’m sor-”

“Don’t apologize. It’ll be okay, Qark.” WIth that he hung up and you quickly put your phone away. You barely looked at the box mixes and threw one in the cart before you met up with Owen in the center aisle. He frowned.

“Boxed? You’re not going to make them from scratch?” You resisted the urge to slap him into the next century and spun around, picking out ingredients. Owen wrapped an arm around your waist, keeping you tucked into his side. “That’s more like it.”

God, you’d never wanted Russell Shaw more in your life than that moment. You just prayed when you met up with him again, he got the drop on Owen before he got hurt. Or worse.

________

A/N: Read the final part here!

#Russel Shaw #Russell Shaw x reader #Russell Shaw Fanfiction #Tracker Fanfiction #Tracker #Russell Shaw x you #Russell Shaw Series

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melanieph321 · 2 months

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Hi dear how are you? I have a request can you please write a story about Robin Le Normand (smut and fluff) of winning the euros and celebrating with his girlfriend(if possible can you write amelia instead of y/n please)and thank you very much girly🫶🏻🖤

This request was so good, the fic wrote itself. 🙌

Robin Le Normand x Reader - True Champion

Enjoy!

You ran onto the pitch alongside your boyfriend's family. Robin saw you all coming towards him and didn't really know which one of you were going to reach him first. His brother however, had cleared a path through the fallen confetti and did not hesitate to tackle Robin to the ground when he reached him.

"Congratulations bro, champions of Europe!"

It was a beautiful sight, everyone was laughing. While you waited for your turn to hug your boyfriend your attention was drawn to the magnitude that was the Olympic stadium in Germany. Most of the crowd had gone home by now, at least on the English side. But imagine playing football during a full house of spectators. How massive and amazing to be able to come out victorious.

"Pretty cool, eh?"

"Robin!" You squealed, feeling his arms wrap around you from behind. His family were done with him now and instead took turns trying on his gold medal. Meaning he was all yours.

"I'm so proud of you baby, congratulations!" You turned around in his arms, hugging him tight.

"Thanks baby. I hope you enjoyed the show."

"The show?" You chuckled. "Robin, you just made history with Spain, can't you see that?"

It was strange, the way he shied away when you said this.

"Well, I didn't really play until the final whistle but...."

"But what?" You frowned. There were several Spanish players who hadn't step foot on the pitch once during the whole tournament, and still celebrated harder than your boyfriend. Not to mention the Spanish people back home. They were all most likely dancing in front of their TV's right now.

"Why would you say that Robin? What's wrong?" You asked.

"Nothing, nothing." He muttered. "I just didn't play full ninety, that's all."

You got a swift kiss on your cheek before Robin diverged his attention elsewhere, to one of his Spanish teammates, who waved him over for a group pic.

"Hey, Amelia!" Robin's sister called you over, seeing as you were a bit dissoriented, standing by yourself. "Come lift the trophy, it's heavier than you'd think."

You went over to Robin's family who someonehow got their hands on the winning trophy. However, throughout the whole night you couldn't help but to sense some angst coming from your boyfriend. Unlike his teammates and his family, he seemed unhappy for some reason.

"I need a shower." Robin said, once you reached his hotel. You hesitated to look on the clock upon entery, seeing as the sun was already on the verge of rising again. It was that late, or perhaps the right term was early. It was that early.

"Baby?"

"Huh?" You sat on the bed, a bit frozen in time. Robin stood before you stripped of his shirt and a towel wrap around his waist.

"You coming?" He said.

"Coming?"

He chuckled. "Yeah, to shower with me."

"Oh." Slight heat rose to your face. You had assumed that after a day such as this one, Robin would be too tired to do anything, but apparently you thought wrong.

"Or perhaps you're not in the mood?" He mumbled.

"Oh, no that's not it." You stood. "It's just that...."

"Yes?"

"Well...."

"Amelia?" He frowned. "If there's something you want to say to me just say it."

It was unlike him to lash out at you like he did. Something was clearly bothering him.

You took a deep breath. "Robin...baby. I know there's something bothering you about the game tonight."

He put his hand on his hips. "And what would that be? We won."

"Yes, I get that. But when your family and I greeted you on the pitch I could tell right away that something was wrong. You even said so yourself. You're unhappy that you didn't get to play a full ninety minutes. But why?"

Robin sighed. He approached a wall to lean back on, his head knocking against it.

"I'm not Spanish." He said.

"It's alright, you can tell me." You assured. It was something you had come to notice about your boyfriend. How hard he worked to have the world precive him as someone sure of themselves. Hiding the fact that he was not.

"What?"

He shook his head. "I'm not Spanish, but I fought for Spain during this championship."

He was talking about his double citizenship. How he was born in France but through football became a citizen of Spanish. There had been a lot of people giving him a hard time about it ahead of the tournament, and you suspected that every minute Robin played for Spain was a chance to prove himself to the spanish people.

"I got booked in the match against France." Robin said, his voice a bit clogged. "I know my parents would never tell me this, but they would have been so proud to see me out there, playing against our home nation. Where I could've belonged."

"Oh, Robin...." You approached him, taking his face into your hands. "Why haven't you told me any of this before?"

"Because, I wanted to make you and my family proud. But I played like shit today, overthinking the whole game. I'm actually glad that coach swapped me, but I know that the Spanish people back home won't be."

"Robin, baby. Listen to me." You looked him dead in his warm eyes. "I am those Spanish people you speak of and we couldn't be more proud to have you."

"Amelia."

"No, you're one of us and don't you fucking forget it."

He pulled you into a hug. A hug that turned into a kiss. A kiss that turned into a makeout session with slipping hands. Robin's hands, eager to undress you.

"I really need a shower." He chuckled.

"Well, what are you waiting for? Lead the way."

#fanfiction #football imagine #footballer x reader #footballer imagine #football angst #robin le normand #spain #real sociedad #robin le normand x reader

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moonkake-143 · 3 months

Text

𝐄𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞'𝐬 𝐋𝐚𝐛𝐲𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐡 | Into the Labyrinth

Goblin King!Eddie X AFAB/Fem!Henderson Reader

Edited By the lovey: Jen

Contents: Slow Burn, One sided pining from Eddie turned mutual, love at first sight, fluff, angst, no use of y/n

Summery: Your time starts now and your first challenge awaits.

Chapter 2/? {wc: 5.7k}

Masterlist

Part 1 Part 2

The walk felt long and arduous, especially with the sun beating down on you as hard as it did. How odd it was that you were just under the cover of darkness back home— it had been cold and stormy, but here the sun was high up in the sky, with clouds only partly covering the land. Below you, the grassy hill felt as if it went on forever, and for a beat, you thought it did— a sick trick already at the start, but one thing remained a constant in your mind.

Find Dustin and get out of there.

You thought those words over and over like a mantra, or hell, even a prayer, pushing yourself forward despite the burning sun. Despite the clock that timed you from the top of that damn hill. Despite the handsome, curly-haired man who brought you here in the first place.

Cursing him, you shook your head and continued your trek, finally reaching the bottom of the hill and landing on a dirt road. The surrounding fields were barren, and crops rotted in tipped-over barrels. The area was devoid of life, and as the smell of charcoal invaded your nostrils, you scrunched your nose in disgust, picking up the pace. With sunken thatch roofs, the houses were charred, and when you came closer, you noticed arrows stuck in the rotting wood. You noticed the claw marks that scarred the doors and the rust-colored stains that marred the sides of the cottages. There had been some sort of struggle; a carnage that had been long forgotten, but there were no bodies in sight— as if they had just up and vanished.

Just what happened here?

As you walked, the ash-stricken houses began to converge the closer you walked towards the forest, as if a village was waiting deep inside. A growing uneasiness followed you until you finally stopped in front of a signpost, realizing that the dirt road forked into two paths— one that went into the forest, and another that continued towards abandoned farmland. Both signs were illegible, written in a language that resembled the scribbles of a two year-old. But even if you could translate them, the wooden signs were so damaged, rotting and falling apart, that you struggled to decide which way to go.

Without warning, a gust of wind swept through you, and you shivered, rubbing your arms to combat the sudden chill. Now you really wished you had a jacket, rather than just a tank top. However, you noticed that the wind whisked a trail of leaves into the woods.

If that wasn't a sign, then you didn't know what was.

Taking a deep breath, you followed them down the path.

Time seemed to stand still as you walked through the damp forest, but then again, time felt a lot different here. The trees provided a much-needed cover from the burning sun, casting gloomy shadows. It seemed to be a logging camp, with a scattering of wooden cabins that looked in better shape then the ones outside, but were still unsettling to walk past. You found more arrows, with rusty axes embedded in the trunks of trees, but nature seemed to overtake them. Grass and daisies grew in the gaps between abandoned machinery, covering the pieces in moss. More houses seemed to go deeper into the forest, all seemingly abandoned and overgrown.

As you walked, the humidity caused your hair to frizz up and covered your entire body in an uncomfortable layer of sweat. You let out a huff and wiped the condensation from your brow, your legs aching.

How long had you been walking for? Was this all for nothing? Had you gone the wrong way? Was there no labyrinth at all? Questions swirled around your mind as your chest swelled, your breath shortening. The heat was not helping— it felt suffocating, as if the entire forest was a damp sauna. What was it with this sudden change in weather?

With a ragged breath, you finally stopped walking, and your vision blurred with tears. Anxiety gnawed at your very core, your body tensing and trembling as you buried your face in your hands, taking deep breaths. Slowly, you tried to steady yourself, your head aching and pulse pounding. As the pain in your chest subsided, you lowered your palms from your eyes, slowly opening them.

In front of you wasn't the dirt path, but a large gate— one that hadn’t been there before. It was tall and deeply ornate, with a stone arch and iron bars that were curled into what looked like bats. Moss and vines twisted along the cobblestone pillars on either side, but what caught your eye was the wide, seemingly endless wall that encompassed the labyrinth. You slowly walked up to it, grabbing onto the iron bars and pulling— but the gate was locked.

"Come on, I've come this far…” you sighed.

"Halt! Who goes there?”

Jumping in surprise, you spun and frantically looked for the source of the voice, bringing your arms up in a defensive position— albeit a rather weak one.

"Who’s there?!” you called out.

The disembodied voice seemed to chuckle at your attempt at intimidation.

"I should be asking you that! What brings a human to my neck of the woods?”

The voice sounded feminine and held a jolly lilt of humor, one that eased your stance slightly. Looking around, you kept your fists up, stepping forward. Maybe those karate classes from elementary school would kick in if something did happen.

Then as swift as the wind, someone from the top of the gate dropped behind you.

"Boo!”

Yelping, you tripped and landed on your bottom, stirring up dust that caused you to cough.

Curse your lack of instincts and balance. Those classes did nothing to prepare you.

When the dust settled, you found a pair of striking blue-green eyes staring you down. You let out a gasp, quickly scooting backwards in a feeble attempt to crabwalk away from her. She was sun-kissed, as if she spent her life outside, with freckles dotted across her nose— or was it dirt? You couldn't tell, but she was studying you like a specimen, her eyebrows married in concentration at the possibility of you being a threat. But then she relaxed and flashed a sharp-toothed smile, her teeth both blinding and scary.

"So it is you! The girl Eddie’s always on about!”

"Wh-What?”

"Oh, sorry for startling you— here, lemme help you up.”

She grabbed your forearm, hoisting you up as if you weighed nothing, and you winced as her sharp claws lightly grazed your skin. Her dirty-blonde hair was chopped just above her shoulders, her eyes crinkling under her wide grin. How could she smile even more?

"Who are you?”

"Oh right, I’m Robin! I watch over this gaudy-looking gate!”

Robin stepped back from you, and it was then that you fully took her in. She wore a similar outfit to Eddie's, dressed in a poet shirt and tight trousers, with gloves fit for an archer. Slung over her back was a longbow and a quiver of arrows, and a dagger was sheathed to her hip. Gold piercings adorned her ears, which were long and pointed— something you had only ever read about in fantasy novels.

"You’re an elf…?”

"Oh hells no! A goblin, actually! Never seen a goblin before? We're nothing like those posh pricks!"

"No, I've never seen a real goblin before..."

"And it's been a while since I've seen a human! They're quite rare around here.”

Shaking your head, you stared at her in awe. Goblins always were depicted as small, evil green things, but Robin— she looked human. It made you wonder what elves really looked like.

"I know, I am quite stunning, but I'm afraid I'm taken!"

You realized you were staring for longer than was socially acceptable, and your face turned bright red as you broke your stare.

"You're really the girl he's always talking about, huh? I can see why he likes you.” The relaxed tone disappeared from her voice, her previous expression returning as she studied you. The goblin woman then began to circle you like a vulture, sizing you up and scanning you from head to toe.

"What? Why are you doing that? Robin, right? Please, can you let me inside?”

"Woah, one question at a time. Start with the most important one.”

"Can you please let me inside?”

"I can, but that’s not the right question.”

"What? What do you mean not the right question?”

"You ask a lot of questions, huh?”

Robin finally stopped in front of you and stared, a smile slowly appearing on her face. She was quiet, letting you stew in your own mind.

What was she talking about? You said please, was that not enough?

You turned your back to her, opening your arms and lifting them to the sky.

"Open Sesame? Abracadabra?”

Robin burst into a fit of laughter, her own face turning red as she clutched her abdomen, her shoulders shaking. You dropped your arms in embarrassment, cheeks flushing as you wracked your brain for what could have been the answer— why wouldn't she open the gate?

Oh wait.

"...Will you please open the gate?”

"Now that’s more like it!”

Robin turned and pushed vines aside to reveal a wooden lever, pulling it down. The mechanisms began to churn, the cranking of the gears becoming louder as you walked closer. Anxiety quickly settled into a permanent place in your stomach.

"How bad is it?”

"The truth? Terrifying. Are you really going in there?” Robin watched you with curious, worried eyes.

"I have to…for my brother.”

"You mean the brother you wished away? How admirable. But here’s your official warning: a mere human like you may not make it out alive. The labyrinth is no game to take lightly— you might forget which way is which, fall into a pit of spikes, or encounter a monster thirsty for blood— you'll never know what you might find.”

Staring wide-eyed at the open gate, you turned to her.

"There are monsters in here? You're not messing with me?“

"Afraid not, but here— you might need this.”

Robin unclipped her dagger, quick to wrap the belt around your waist.

"Promise we’ll be friends if you make it out alive?”

"When I make it out…”

"That's the spirit! Now go get 'em! Don’t die!" Robin’s smile was blinding as she pushed you towards the entrance. "Good luck, and don’t take anything at face value!”

You swallowed the lump in your throat as you stared at the stone walls, which seemed to beckon you inside. Taking a breath, you crossed under the gate, which quickly fell shut behind you with a loud bang. You jumped, turning to see the goblin woman waving from the other side.

Letting out a surprised huff, you faced ahead once more.

"Alright, I gotta find Dustin," you thought. "I've only got thirteen hours— how am I even going to track that? Robin mentioned monsters...at least she gave me this…"

Pulling the dagger from its place on your belt, you examined it. It was a simple thing wrapped in leather, with a slightly curved blade. Embedded in the hilt was a red stone, possibly a ruby. You held it out and slashed at the air, imagining your target as someone with curly hair and brown doe eyes. Once satisfied with yourself, you sheathed it away and continued your journey.

You walked slowly, taking in your surroundings and keeping a watchful eye out for any traps. Brown roots covered the stone walls and spilled onto the path in thick chunks. You carefully maneuvered around them, but the passage seemed to go on forever, and you slowly went from a walk to a jog, and from a jog to a sprint, running down the path with no end in sight.

Your careless running finally caught up to you when you tripped over a thick, gnarled root, toppling over and tumbling to the ground. Knees digging into dirt, you huffed as you looked up, and from the corner of your eye, you saw it.

The labyrinth was moving.

By the looks of it, it changed ever-so slightly— nothing the careless eye could catch so quickly. The walls shifted in what looked to be a wave of magic, pulsating as if they were alive, and the root you had just tripped over slowly disappeared, rescinding into the stone crevices behind you. Was the labyrinth alive after all? Or was this Eddie’s doing?

You punched the ground in frustration as the pain in your knees became a dull ache. Groaning, you sat up against the wall, your face red not just from exhaustion, but the anger that bubbled to the surface.

"You can’t be serious!" you screamed at the bright blue sky, hoping someone— anyone— would listen. "What the actual fuck am I supposed to do? Hey, Eddie! Yeah, I have a feeling you can hear me, you prick! What the fuck!? You didn't say it fucking moves! Or that there were monsters in here!”

You were met with dead silence as you leaned your head against the stone wall, catching your breath and closing your eyes.

"Alright, this is fine, just breathe. This is like one of those DND campaigns. Yeah, okay, maybe none of this is even real. Did I finally lose it? What if Dustin is dead? Oh god, I wouldn’t be able to live with myself— what if I'm dead too?! What if mom finds me on the side of the road?!” Your ramblings carried through the silence of the labyrinth, hands trembling as you raked your fingers through your hair in anxious panic.

Tears threatened to escape your eyes, and you tried to will them away, but had to shove your palms against your eyes to force them to hide. You wouldn’t cry, not over this, not over hypothetical scenarios. Dustin was alive— he had to be. You remembered his bubbly laugh. You remembered how curious he always was, often getting into trouble. You remembered how he tucked his head of curls under your chin when you watched movies together. Then you thought about how scared he must be without you there, in the dark and surrounded by terrifying monsters who could eat him if they wanted to. You tucked your knees close to your chest, hiccups erupting from your body as the tears you tried so hard to fight back flowed from your eyes.

"Are you alright, dear?”

You jumped at the sudden voice. It was a gentle thing, feminine and holding a motherly lilt that pulled you out of your internal dread. You searched for the source of it, eyes teary.

"Would you like a spot of tea? I believe I have some leaves perfect for brewing.”

The source of the voice finally revealed itself to you, hanging from a vine on the wall. Rubbing the tear stains from your cheeks, you leaned towards the creature. A spotted mushroom sat on its head, and delicate, glistening fairy wings sprouted from its back. You shook your head at the question.

“What troubles you, my dear?”

The fairy was small but seemed wise with age, with pointed ears that stuck out from her dark brown curls. Her skin was golden, as if the sun blessed her, and she wore a dress made of leaves. Her voice was warm and inviting, but her golden eyes looked you over with sorrow and worry— a mother's gaze, no doubt.

"It’s this maze! It moves without warning! How am I supposed to get through it in thirteen hours?! Dustin is probably scared to death and it's all my fault!”

"Oh dear, our king hasn’t properly warned you of the labyrinth, has he? Well, I can tell you with certainty that the brother you shed tears for is safely tucked away in his manor. Our king is kind and always watches over us, including little ol’ me. But in this place, things are not what you expect— for example, take that wall in front of you. It is no ordinary wall.”

The fairy's wings gently fluttered as she lifted herself towards the wall. Placing a small hand against it, she seemed to keep floating forward.

Slowly calming your tears, you picked yourself off the ground and approached the wall. Hand outstretched, you expected yourself to stop short, only you stumbled forward.

"So it’s an illusion...” You walked further and were finally able to place your hand against the cobble, where you saw paths on either side. The fairy slowly settled onto your shoulder, her wings limply hanging downward.

"I’m sorry, dear— my wings don’t quite flutter how they used to. Can you set me down near that mushroom there? Thank you.”

"No, I should be thanking you. I needed your help.” You crouched and held your palm towards your shoulder. The fairy hopped onto it, and you set her on the dirt.

"Oh dearie, it was nothing. Now go, he’s waiting for you!”

"Thank you again.”

The fairy gave you a warm smile before waving you away, her hands sparkling as you straightened up. There were two paths to choose from, both looking nearly identical. You looked to the right first, which was lined with spotted mushrooms, and then to the left, where flowers grew from stone walls. Your feet moved towards the left path, distracted by the flowers, but you stopped.

"Maybe the flowers are a trap. Their smell is so overwhelmingly sweet, it's giving me a headache— I can't go that way.” You shook your head and swiftly turned to the right, following the mushrooms down the path.

You walked and walked for what felt like hours, the pulsating walls shifting from gray cobblestone to green hedges, the changes taking place in your peripheral vision. When you looked over your shoulder, you noticed that shrubbery covered the opening you came through. You pulled the dagger from its sheath and carved an arrow into the ground, marking your path. Keeping the knife out, you trekked through the hedge maze, and when you reached a dead end, you sighed and turned back— only for the arrow mark to be missing.

"What the hell? This is such a sick joke— I swear it was right here! Ugh!” You stomped, and the stone tile beneath your foot clicked. Your breath stalled short as your eyes darted around, but you saw nothing. You heard the sudden rustle of leaves, and turned to find that the dead end had opened into an archway. It could have been some sort of trap, but you were desperate, and hurried through the opening.

The passage slowly opened to a courtyard surrounded by round hedge walls, and you froze as fear took hold of you. Between two pillars, you found a mysterious creature sleeping. It was blocking something— a door.

"This has to be the way. Of course it wouldn’t be so easy. I need to find a way around this thing— whatever it is."

You surveyed the creature from a distance, still frozen in fear and awe. Curled like a sleeping housecat, it resembled a golden lion with feathered wings. How were you going to get around it? Your sweaty fingers gripped the hilt of the dagger Robin had given you. It wasn’t much, but you took comfort in having something to defend yourself with. You inched forward, trying to find a way around the beast.

The animal stirred and you froze immediately, sweat beading on your temple as you defensively held the knife in front of you. The creature then growled and twisted, stretching out in its sleep. A crystal ball rested under its paw, suddenly lighting up, and an all-too-familiar voice shouted through it.

"Chrissy, wake up!”

The creature hummed and swiped at the ball, which rolled its way towards you. Maybe this was your chance for contact— to see if your brother was alright.

You quickly sheathed the dagger and dropped down to hoist the crystal ball into your hands, backing away from the creature. Larger than the one previously offered to you, the orb reflected a man with shaggy curls. You glared at his image, but Eddie's attention was elsewhere as he shouted at someone, his voice muffled by all the noise around him. In the background, you heard the sounds of goblins yelling and knocking each other over as something metal loudly clattered to the floor.

"Eddie, the kid is causing too much trouble! He nearly decapitated little Mike with a sword just now! You watch him, I need a break!”

"Stevie you can't leave now! He likes you!"

"Not my problem! And stop calling me that!

The unknown man huffed in annoyance before walking off and Eddie rolled his eyes before he let out a heavy sigh.

"Some one else was watching over Dustin? And he was around a sword?!"

Eddie's pointed ears twitched at a high-pitched scream and he groaned, before turning his head to face you.

"How many times do I—? Oh hello, Miss Henderson.” His eyes widened, not expecting to see you on the other end of the crystal.

"Where is he?” Your voice was low and angry as you quickly hid behind a pillar, but he seemed distracted.

"Where’s who? Hey!" The ball jostled as it was ripped from his hands. "Get back here!” He started chasing after the thief, and when he seemed close, you heard childish laughter.

"Dustin, is that you!?” Your eyes brimmed with tears as you clutched the ball close, a relieved sigh escaping— none of your fears had come true.

The laughter became louder as your brother’s gummy grin took center stage, his blue eyes crinkled with glee as he ran, the crystal shaking in his hands.

"Dustin! Dustin! Are you okay?!” Your voice shook as you tried to get his attention, lowering it as the sleeping creature stirred. He laughed and joyously called your name.

"I okay, no worry!”

"Are you sure? You're not hurt? Where are you?” Your questions came out quick, but he giggled, his curls bouncing as he ran.

"I at Eddie's house! I like it here and I like Eddie! He play with me and I still eat my veggies, like you say! But Eddie don’t eat.”

"I’m coming to get you, okay? I'll be there soon. Then we’re gonna go home and eat all the ice cream you want. If the goblins do anything bad, then you hit them real hard and run away.”

"Yay!" The boy cheered, but his running slowed, his eyes droopy and tired. "Pinky promise...?”

"Pinky promise…I…I love you.”

"Love you…” he yawned.

Suddenly he was scooped up, laughing sleepily— something you didn’t think you would miss so much.

"I’ll take that back now, you little rascal— time for bed.”

The image shook once again as Eddie plucked the crystal ball from Dustin's grip, holding it out to show the two of them. Dustin dug his face into his shoulder and clung to his neck, legs wrapped around his torso. The man’s eyes were gentle as he shifted his attention from the boy to you, and with a soft voice, he stared you down.

"You have eleven hours— I'll see you soon.”

Red smoke filled the crystal, and when it cleared, he was gone.

"What was all that about? No, forget him, Dustin is okay. He's been eating and now he's going to sleep. See me soon? When I see Eddie, I’m gonna—"

You set the large crystal ball on the ground and turned to the now very-much-awake creature— one that was half-human, dressed in a white and gold toga. Her ocean blue eyes were piercing, her golden hair perfectly framing her soft face.

"It seems you caught me napping— you must be the famous Henderson girl I hear so much about.” The creature's voice was soft and tired, her eyes staring you down as you stood away from her.

How did all of these creatures know you?

You kept still, your heart furiously beating in your ears. You were sure she could hear it too.

"That knife at your hip— I hope you weren't planning on using it on me. Otherwise, you might have been my lunch.” she grinned nonchalantly.

You quickly shook your head— a lie.

"Come closer, don't be shy. I’m Chrissy and I promise I won’t eat you— there are things here that are far worse than me. Now for your test!”

You slowly began to approach her, noticing three large locks on the door behind her.

"Test? What kind of test?”

"It’s really easy, just answer some riddles and unlock the door behind me to continue towards the city. Easy-peasy!”

"Wait, riddles? You're a sphinx?” You wracked your head for the story, remembering the creature from a book of Greek mythology you read for history class.

"Well no, I’m a goblin. We come in all shapes and sizes." Chrissy was a large creature, but she began to shrink, her lion legs shifting into human ones. Her toga reached her ankles, and her bare feet seemed to have been dipped in gold. Her blonde hair fell just past her shoulders as she yawned, arms stretching out above her head.

You watched in awe and she smiled brightly, giving you jazz hands. The golden bangles around her wrists clanked when she did so.

"Alright then, I have three riddles for you. If you can’t solve them, then unfortunately, you'll be...misplaced.”

"Wait, misplaced? Where to?”

"Typically you’d be placed anywhere in the labyrinth, but in this case, I was told to send you back to the beginning.”

Your eyes widened and she laughed, her jewelry jingling as she approached you.

"So, are you ready or not? You don’t have that much time…”

Taking a deep breath, you nodded. Hopefully all those Dungeons and Dragons sessions would pay off.

"I’m ready…I think.”

She clasped her hands together in prayer and her blue eyes gently closed. When she opened them a few seconds later, they glowed a bright gold. You flinched at the unexpected change, but tried to relax. This was your first true test.

"Your first riddle is this: if given one, you’ll have many or none at all.” Her voice echoed throughout the landing, shaking the hedge walls.

You steadied yourself and delved deep into your mind, stewing in the question. You had to think carefully; if you gave the wrong answer, you would have to start all over again. And if you did, there most likely wouldn't be a kind fairy creature to help you. What would you even choose to say? There were so many choices.

Wait.

Taking a deep breath, you shakily gave your first answer.

"A choice…?”

Chrissy smiled, and a lock from behind her fell to the floor.

"That is correct— your destiny is shaped by the choices you make on your journey through life. Many choices can alter your path, whether they lead you to ruin, or lead you to glory. Choices give the power to challenge your fate. Now your second riddle is this: some are cherished, some are hated, and even if lost, they remain with you.”

You stared at her, taking in her words, imprinting them into your mind. It could be people— maybe it was. But how are lost people still with you? In your heart?

Suddenly you thought of your father, the day he left Hawkins ingrained into your memory. Your mother was pregnant with Dustin at the time— you remembered her crying after work, still in her scrubs. You remembered the day she came home with your brother in a carrier and how she cried for weeks after. You remembered seeing her less often. You remembered waking up to feed Dustin when your mother worked night shifts. You remembered not having a Sweet 16th after he was born. You remembered helping to pay for his racecar bed. You remembered getting him to say your name for the first time. It was his first word. You remembered raising him, and you remembered loving him so much. But you remembered the sleepless nights before tests. You remembered missing school to watch over him when he was sick. You remembered crying when he wouldn’t stop. You remembered having to swallow back the tears when your mother was there. The memories were a cocktail of pain, loss, and happiness.

You remembered…

"Is the answer memories?”

Another of the locks fell to the ground, causing it to shake.

"Correct— memories are powerful. They may hold a person's love or hate, their joy and their grief, and some may choose to block them out. The memories you hold dear will always be imprinted into your heart, even as years pass. Our memories shape us, and you are now stronger because of them. Keep those memories close, for even if they hurt, they are a part of who you are. Now, your last riddle is this: they arrive every night, whether invited or not. They can be seen, but not heard or touched. If one falls, they all keep moving.”

You absorbed her words into your mind— you needed to get this right, or you would be doomed to reset this death trap. Tapping your foot, you tried to wrap your head around the riddle. You looked up at the sky above you, falling into a distant memory.

"Whas in da sky?”

"Those are stars, Dustin. You can only see them clearly out here.”

"Why?”

"Because it's dark here.”

"The dark is scawy...”

"It can be, but the stars will always keep you safe.”

"How?”

"Well, you see that up there? That’s the North Star— when it comes out, you make a wish on it. And guess what? If you follow it, it can take you home.”

You sat on the driveway with Dustin in your lap, staring up into the starry sky. There had been a blackout, and your mother was still working at the hospital. The sudden darkness had scared the boy, and you tried to calm his cries by bringing him outside.

"It can?”

"Yeah, and do you wanna know the coolest thing?”

"Wha?”

"Sometimes stars fall from the sky. They say bye-bye to their mommies and they go on their own adventure. They fly by and spread their magic dust to make you happy.”

"Really? They not scawed?”

"Maybe, but it’s okay to be scared. Their mommies are always watching.”

"And sisters?”

"Yeah buddy, their sisters watch them too.”

Dustin leaned against you, staring up at the sky with awe in his bright blue eyes. The stars, despite the blackout, kept on moving.

"Is Mommy still working?”

"Yeah, the hospital needs a lot of help, so she’s staying late.”

"I sleep with you?”

He looked up at you with pleading puppy-dog eyes, and how could you say no to that? You sighed and gently nodded.

"Yeah, you can sleep in my room 'til Mom gets back.”

He cheered and leaned against you, his eyes starting to close, and for a second, you thought a comet shot through the sky.

You wished things were different.

"Stars— the answer is stars.” Your voice came out shaky and unsure, and you held your breath until finally, after what felt like years, the final lock clicked open and fell to the ground with a heavy thud.

"Correct— for centuries, the stars have guided the lost, and today, their memory guides you forward. Whenever you feel lost in your heart, unsure of how to navigate the darkness within, then look to the night sky. Follow the stars and allow them to guide you, just as they guided others long ago. Just as the stars keep moving, so will you. Congratulations— you have passed the test and may continue on your journey.”

You held your breath, your eyes wide with shock. Your heart raced as you stood still, as if one wrong move would send you back to the start of the labyrinth. But your anxiety melted into joy when you realized that you had done it— you had passed the first test. You let out a shaky breath, your trembling hands quickly rubbing away the joyous tears that poured down your cheeks. Breaking into a smile, you turned to the orb, pointing at it with a determined fire in your eyes.

"See that, Eddie?! Fuck you, I did it! Bring it on!”

Chrissy smiled and tried to hide her laugh. She closed her glowing eyes, and when she blinked them open, she was herself again.

"Do watch out for traps, won’t you? I would like to see you at the banquet.”

"Banquet?”

"Yes, I would like to see you there alive and well. We have a celebration coming up and would love to have you there.”

You stared at her with confusion etching your features— as if you would voluntarily spend another second in this godforsaken place.

Chrissy stepped aside as the door swung open, exposing a topiary of a lion on the other side of the passage. You turned to her as she stretched and yawned, her form shifting back to her more animal-like appearance. Swallowing a lump in your throat, you were finally able to voice your concern.

"Are the next trials harder?”

�� "Well, everything has its difficulties and everything has its solutions. You’ll be fine, just keep looking ahead.”

"Alright, thank you!”

You took a deep breath, and with a newfound excitement, you passed through the doorway, your eyes trained on the topiary ahead. You looked back at Chrissy, who seemed to settle into sleep, and with a wide smile, you began to run. Your shoes pounded against the flagstone floor as you hurried through the passage.

But then the flagstone was gone, there was no ground, and your eyes widened as you fell down a gaping abyss. You clawed at the edge of the stone, but it was too late. Your heart raced as you helplessly flailed your arms, the darkness swallowing the scream you let out as you plummeted into the unknown. Was this the your fate all along? Had you made the wrong choice? Gone the wrong way? Were you going to die?

"I should have looked where I was stepping."

You fell down, down into the abyss, and the darkness consumed you.

A/N: Thank you so much for reading! I know it took almost a year to get here but it's here! I'm a full time college student and coming up with original puzzles for this was no easy feat I'll tell you what. I promise I haven't given up yet! Don't forget to reblog, like and comment it really helps! (gosh I sound like a Youtuber lol) But anyways thank you again for reading and back to the writing cave I go!

Taglist: (If you want to be placed on it comment under here)

@fan-girl-97 @sh0wthyself @maxstecc @mirkwoodshewolf @bellalillyrose @under-the-clouds @bllshtbel @ali-r3n @darknesseddiem @ladyjbrekker @mewchiili

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teyums · 2 years

Text

Contagious ✽ Lo’ak Sully

wc: 8.4k

pairing: lo’ak x fem! na’vi reader (characters are aged up for plot purposes)

contains: angst, slight enemies to lovers trope, some language, and fluff of course <3

warnings: none, slight hinting of intimate feelings if you squint

a/n: Requested? No. THIS IS THE CUTEST THING I’VE EVER WRITTEN. also testing out different spacing with my works so lmk if you guys like this spacing better!

“Absolutely not.”

“Hard pass.”

You both spoke in unison, immediately denying the ridiculous suggestion that came from the mouths of your mothers before you could even think about it. There was no way on Pandora you were going to spend more than five minutes, let alone three whole days alone with this man in the woods.

You refused, you wouldn’t stand for this. Your mother sighed, the shortness of her breath indicating that the decision wasn’t up for debate. “You should be open to the idea, [Y/n]. Lo’ak is a fine warrior and a skilled hunter. I think he could teach you a lot. So the two of you need to set aside your differences and work it out, just for a few days.” She said, Neytiri’s voice chiming in behind her in agreement.

You were never very interested in hunting. You harbored the skill, of course, but you much preferred weaving or crafting over shooting unsuspecting animals with poisonous arrows.

Lo’ak huffed out a humorless laugh, gesturing over to you with his hand while he addressed his mother. “Why me, Ma? Why can’t one of the others help her? Even Tuk knows how to shoot an arrow!”

“Enough, Lo’ak. It is decided.” Neytiri said, and the look in her eyes confirmed that she was not budging.

He kissed his teeth, dragging a hand down his face and covering his mouth before he could say something that would get him in trouble. As if that was the only way he could control his tongue. You glanced over at him, furrowing your brows while he only stared straight ahead at the wall of the hut— now completely detached from the conversation with a locked jaw.

You looked to your mom as a silent plea, only to receive a pointing stare back that caused you to quietly hiss in distaste. You were the first to exit the elders’ tent upon dismissal, the lanky Sully boy unwillingly trailing behind you.

Once you were far enough to make sure you were out of earshot, you turned around to face him. Trying to lighten the mood. “I guess three days isn’t so bad, right? At least we already know each other. It’s not like I’m a stranger or anything.”

“If I had a choice between three days with you, or getting yelled at by my mom, I think we both know I would’ve chosen the latter.” He grumbled, pushing past you and bumping into your shoulder in the process.

You caught your footing before you could stumble back, spinning on your heels to face him again. “Jeez, Lo’ak! Do you have to be such an asshole all the time?”

He ignored you, like usual, and continued along the path to wherever he was headed. You felt your eye twitch with a vengeance, pursing your lips and taking a sharp breath inwards to quiet the urge you had to send the wood of your bow flying into the back of his head.

It hadn’t always been like this between you two, and honestly you couldn’t understand where it all went wrong. You and Lo’ak grew up as pretty good friends, considering your mothers were the best of them. They expected you and Lo’ak to grow up and be each other’s mates. Often pairing the both of you together to complete simple tasks around the village that could easily use one person, which only helped in solidifying the strength of your bond. And honestly, you were never opposed to the idea of it, and even found yourself starting to like him.

You often explored the forest together, even when you were young. Allowing him to show you all his secret spots and hiding places he ran to when the heat at home was too much for him to handle. In actuality, you were his escape.

“Come on, [Y/n]! Try to keep up!” A young Lo’ak yelled from a branch above, laughing and dodging your attempt to grab at his tail.

“Wait for me, Lo’ak! You’re too fast!” You groaned, jumping up to grab a branch with your hands and pulling yourself up the rest of the way. You watched him hop onto a cliff and you followed, hands resting on your knees while you tried to catch your breath.

“Catch me if you can, slowpoke!” The young sully teased, darting through the vast foliage and hopping over fallen trunks.

You weren’t one to back down from a challenge, especially not from Lo’ak. Whenever the two of you would play games with each other and he’d win, he would hold it against you for weeks and rub it in your face. You lifted your head, seeing his tail be the last of him to disappear into the trees “You’re on, Sully!” You took one last deep breath, pushing off your feet and starting to run in the same direction he had.

You memorized his movements so you could go faster, ducking where he had and shoving giant leaves from your view. However, you miscalculated a step, the front of your foot hooking under a mossy log and sending you tumbling forward into the dirt below you.

Hearing your footsteps closing in, Lo’ak picked up speed so you wouldn’t be able to catch him. But as he readied himself to climb another tree, he heard a thud. He paused, turning around to look behind him and brows pinching when he didn’t seen you. “[Y/n]?” He called out, eyes widening when he heard a series of whines sound out in response instead of your usual cheery voice. “Oh shoot,” He mumbled, sprinting back to where he had last left you.

“Ow ow ow!” You cried profusely, pushing yourself off the ground so you could sit up. You winced and pulled your bruised knee to your chest, lip trembling at the sight of blood appearing from a small gash in your skin.

“Oh no,” Lo’ak’s eyes widened at the sight of you covered in dirt, dropping down next to you with a worried look on his face. “Are you okay? What happened?” His voice was soft, both of his hands cautiously holding your leg while he studied how deep the wound was.

“I tripped over a log and fell…” You whined, using the back of your hand to wipe your tears.

He instantly looked up when he heard you sniffle. “No no no, please don’t cry…” His face was tense as he appeared to be in deep thought. He exhaled in preparation, leaning forward and placing a chaste kiss to the side of your knee, away from your broken skin. “There,” He backed up, cheeks flushing to match yours. “That’s what my mommy does when I get hurt, and it usually helps me feel better… Did it work?”

A small smile spread on your lips and your tears dried up, face rosy when you nodded your head. “Y-yeah. I guess it does feel a little better. Thanks, Lo’ak.”

He flashed a toothy grin, excited that you were feeling better and rising to his feet. A small, four-fingered hand extended out to help you up, and you slid your tiny palm into his. Brushing the dirt off your legs with the other. “We don’t have to play anymore if you don’t wanna-” He said, the rest of his sentence cut off when you shoved past him, into his shoulder and darted along the path.

“Catch me if you can, penis face!” You giggled, squealing when he yelled your name and began to chase after you.

Life as best friends with Lo’ak was never boring. In fact he was the one who introduced you to having fun in the first place. You knew him to be snarky, painfully sarcastic. But never cold.

There was a sweet side to him that he would let you take a glance at here and there, behind all the name calling. Could he be aggravating at times, and maybe a little mean with the teasing? Yes, but never cold. So when he suddenly stopped treating you like a friend one day and instead no more than a stranger— saying you were confused would be putting it lightly. All you could chalk it down to was puberty. Maybe the new influx of hormones had made him… less social?

You were hurt, you couldn’t deny it. There was something different about him, something he wasn’t letting you in on, like a switch you didn’t know existed had flipped in his mind. Coincidentally as soon as you hit the age where men began to court you, he fell off the face of the planet entirely.

Losing him pained you deeply, he had always been there to help you with any issues you had. Eager to give you advice on any situation you needed another perspective on, or just cheer you up with his rambunctious attitude. There were so many times you wanted to stop and ask him what happened, if you had done something wrong. But you knew he’d look straight through you like he always did nowadays.

The walk home was silent. You were definitely not looking forward to this three day trip you had no choice but to partake in. You wouldn’t have minded if your mom chose one of the other warriors, because being around Lo’ak only became increasingly more awkward as time went on.

For someone who previously had so much to talk to you about in the past, he was awfully closed off in your presence. You shook yourself out of your daydreaming and began searching through your tent. Packing just a few things. Some extra clothes, a quiver of arrows, and spare string for your bow just in case. You grabbed the strap and slung it over your shoulder, next lifting a woven pouch over your head and crossing it over your body.

Pushing past the flaps that served as an entrance to your home. You felt the daytime breeze hit your face and a wave of peace washed over you. Until you turned your head to the side to see a particular male leaned against the outside wall of your hut, arms crossed over his chest.

“Took you long enough.”

“Oh my-” You jumped, startled by his voice and bringing a hand up to clutch your chest to make sure your heart hadn’t jumped through your ribcage. “Jesus, Lo’ak! Were you trying to give me a heart attack?”

“Nah,” He snorted at your reaction, pushing himself off and walking ahead without you. “I think you’re just a wuss.” You swore you heard the smirk oozing out of his tone. Rolling your eyes and starting off after him, having to do a slight jog to catch up as his strides were much longer than yours due to the length of his legs.

One condition to the three day trip included not being able to use your Ikrans. Your mothers insisted you hiked on foot, saying it would be a good refresher of the land. You walked next to him in silence, keeping your stare straight ahead and grumbling to yourself when the strap of your quiver began to slip off your shoulder for the third time.

He turned to look at you curiously, eyes falling to the case of arrows you were carrying. “Gimme that,” Before you could answer his hand was over your shoulders, grasping the strap in his hands and pulling it off your arm. He tilted his head to the side to swish his braids out of the way, throwing your arrows over his shoulder that was already carrying his own.

You stared at him with a confused expression, having to remind yourself to keep your feet moving. “I was perfectly fine carrying that on my own, you know.”

“Was just being nice.” He sighed, not even bothering to meet your gaze while he spoke.

“Yeah, that’s rich coming from you.” You muttered under your breath with folded arms, not missing the way his ear twitched, jaw tensing at your words. You thought you said it quiet enough, but by the look on his face, he definitely heard you. You figured you’d keep the banter to a minimum for the rest of the way to your campsite.

After about thirty minutes you arrived at a secluded part of the forest where not many animals came through. Fauna dressed with various shades of greens and browns that encased the area, the forest floor mossy and soft against the soles of your feet.

You took a deep breath and looked around, inhaling the air that seemed much fresher around you from all the vegetation. Lo’ak had already gotten busy setting up, crouching down to set your equipment against the base of a tree trunk. You plopped down into a sitting position and sighed in relief. He walked so fast that you damn near had to sprint the entire way here.

Two bows in hand, he silently walked past where you were sitting and started on his way back into the trees. Invested in the colorful wildflowers surrounding your feet, you hadn’t noticed he was no longer in front of you until you looked up to see your bows gone, as well as him. “Lo’ak?” You whipped your head around with a hint of fear in your voice, trying to figure out which direction he had went.

“Come on, hurry up!” He yelled out, your ears perking up once you realized he hadn’t travelled far. You sighed and forced yourself to stand, quickly skipping through the forest to catch up with him.

His behavior was so odd, it was only making you more agitated by the second. You angrily stared at his back, having to look away shortly after once your mind unexpectedly jumped from how annoying he was to how his muscles flexed when he walked.

It really had been long since the two of you were alone, because you hadn’t remembered his shoulders being this broad, or his legs this toned. Training with Neteyam and his father was clearly paying off.

You pointed your chin up when he turned around to hand you your bow, rolling your lips into themselves and trying not to blush at the fact that he almost caught you staring.

“Here,” He pushed it in your direction, not letting go until your hand wrapped around the curve of the wood and took it from his grasp.

You followed closely behind him, looking up to see lemurs swinging from branch to branch while the wild life croaked and screeched around you. He suddenly slowed in pace, causing you to almost stumble into his back while his knees bent slightly, taking long strides while keeping his eyes pinned on the ground below him. His head low.

You peered around curiously, trying to get a look at his face. “What are you doing?”

“Shh, tracking.” He muttered.

You paused. “Why?”

“You want to eat, don’t you?” He responded, irritated.

“I was just asking a question, no need to get your panties in a bunch.” Grumbling, you ducked your head under a low-hanging branch after he did.

“I don’t wear panties.” He huffed, swiftly equipping an arrow to the string of his bow and preparing to pull it back. He must have spotted something you hadn’t.

“Could’ve fooled me, cause for the last four months you’ve kinda been acting like a bitch-“ Your eyes darted in the direction where leaves rustled, sighing when you saw the small hexapede he was planning on piercing with an arrow skit past the two of you. Disappearing into the trees due of the volume of your voice.

“God, ugh!” He dropped his bow to his side, head snapping around to look at you with the most agitated expression you’ve ever seen him wear. “Do you ever stop talking? Like, genuinely asking here. If you had just shut up with the questions we wouldn’t have lost our dinner.”

You swallowed the spit pooling in your mouth and bit the inside of your cheek, only looking down at your feet and mumbling a nearly non-existent ‘sorry’. Had you stayed looking up, you wouldn’t have missed the look of regret that flashed across his face. You felt your heart pinch at the venom in his tone and decided against speaking up again.

Eclipse had fallen over the sky about an hour later, the both of you trudging to the campsite with a couple fish skewered onto your arrows. The journey back was excruciatingly silent. You hadn’t dared to make a peep after seeing how much you pissed him off earlier. He attempted to make some side comments during the hike to spark up a conversation, but you were so tuned out from the present situation that his words fell on deaf ears.

You now sat with your back against the bark of a burly tree, keeping yourself busy by continuing to weave a top you had previously been working on back at home. You were glad you thought to bring it with you, not knowing you would need something to occupy you from looking up and catching the pair of eyes that were boring holes into your forehead like lasers.

He sighed as he watched you, guilt burning in the pit of his stomach as if he were in hell. You forgot that he knew you, forgot that he knew you would distract yourself with random tasks just to avoid speaking on something that bothered you. He hadn’t meant to snap like that, and honestly you weren’t even the reason for his irritability. He just took it out on you on accident.

“You hungry?” He held up a freshly roasted fish, beckoning it towards you and assuming you could see him even though your gaze was downcast into your work.

“Nope.” You muttered.

“Why?”

“Big lunch.” Your movements became slightly jagged at his questioning.

“That’s bullshit. You never eat lunch.” He scoffed.

You threw the top you were working on down in front of you and huffed in frustration. Why was he acting like he still knew you as if this entire time it hadn’t been his mission to become strangers again?

“You wanna know what’s bullshit, Lo’ak? Us being friends since childhood, spending almost everyday together and then suddenly you stop talking to me at all. You treat me like a complete stranger and I don’t even understand why.” His eyes left yours and settled on the fish in front of him, as if this was suddenly his first time seeing one. He was quiet for a beat, making you huff out an aggravated breath and throw your hands up at the futile attempt to get him to speak.

“I’m sorry.” He finally mumbled.

You blinked, waiting for him to continue, eyebrows raising in disbelief when he didn’t. “That’s it? You’ve been treating me like I’m the bane of your existence for months now and all you can say is sorry? You missed my Uniltaron when you promised you’d be there for me, and now all you can say is sorry?” You laughed bitterly, standing up before he could form an answer to your rhetorical question. Eyes pinning him in place as you watched his body shift to stand. “Don’t follow me.” You held a hand up to stop him, stalking away before you could blow a fuse. You weren’t planning to go far, you just needed to be away from him for a bit.

Lo’ak sat in that same spot the entire time you were gone, his appetite dissipating while he stared down at his hands in shame. He didn’t know what he expected, but all he knew was he felt bad for hurting your feelings to this point. It was one of the things he hated about himself the most, his irrational decisions that never considered the other party’s feelings.

Honestly, he thought so little of himself that he assumed you wouldn’t be bothered by his absence. But now that he was rehashing the details over in his mind he felt like an idiot. Of course it bothered you, the two of you were attached at the hip and best friends who did almost everything together, until he let the discouraging words of others get into his head.

His previously slumped body sat up as he saw you re-emerge from the trees, guilt rushing over him once more because your avoidant eyes still refused to meet his.

He looked up at the moon, realizing it was getting late and starting to put the fire out. You lowered yourself to the mossy grass, sliding down until the soft blades tickled your back. You discreetly watched Lo’ak do the same, along with putting a few feet of space between the two of you as he could nearly feel the anger radiating off your body.

With the fire now put out, the draft that travelled through the air made small goosebumps prick at your skin. And with shut eyes you curled your body into itself to capture as much heat as you could. Lo’ak laid next to you with his back flat against the grass, hands resting on his middle and gaze glued to the twinkling stars above. He allowed his eyes to come to a close but just a few moments after they did, they snapped back open and looked in your direction at the sound of you shuffling around.

“You’re cold.” He stated. The words coming out as an observation and not a question.

“I am not.” How fast you answered made it easy for him to know you weren’t telling the truth.

“You’re a terrible liar, and I can hear your teeth chattering from over here.” He sighed, propping himself up on an elbow and talking to your back. “You know you catch colds easily, [Y/n]. So c’mere.”

Your eyes opened at his suggestion and your body tensed, but not from the brisk air blowing against your skin. “And what’s that gonna do?” Cringing at how pathetic your voice sounded. You had planned on coming off assertive and uninterested.

“Warm you up?” He looked around as if the answer were obvious, and it was. But for some reason you felt… shy. You and him were once friends, so close to the point where hugging or holding hands had became normal. You’d even sat in his lap a few times. So now that you were sure the two of you no longer favored each other, why would this feel any different?

“Come on, my mom will skin me if I bring you home sick. It’s not a big deal.” He tacked that on for good measure, clearing his throat to push down the weird fuzzy feeling that was traveling up the column of his neck when you slowly sat up. Only half convinced at his reasoning, you reluctantly scooted over towards him, daring not make eye contact.

His lips almost curling up into his usual sideways smile was a sight you tried your best to ignore, witnessing it from the corner of your eye as you moved. Having the intense urge to smack it off his face but gently laying your body down next to his in order to control yourself. He cautiously wrapped an arm around you, pulling you closer and inviting your head to lay on his chest.

You inhaled through your nose, unknowingly holding your breath when his warm hand came in contact with your skin, while he respectfully rested it just below your shoulders. You kept your arms tucked into yourself, legs laid out straight and your cheek pressed against the azure barrier between you and his beating heart.

You instinctively snuggled in closer, silently grateful for the comforting warmth radiating off his body and he could feel it when you relaxed in his hold, just like you used to. You had forgotten what it felt like to be this close to him. Soaking in the lullaby of his soft breaths and you hated how much you missed it.

The ear pressed to his chest picked up on a slight increase in his heart rate, and you threw a remark out just to keep the energy from shifting into weird grounds. “This doesn’t change anything, by the way. I’m still mad at you. I just hate being sick.”

He stared down at your body in close proximity to his, nose nuzzled into your soft hair as discreetly as possible while he mentally kicked himself for being dumb enough to ruin something like this for himself. Giving you the cold shoulder in the past just to quell his own feelings had been one of his stupidest decisions yet. “Yeah, I know.” He swallowed, his hand hesitantly reaching to stroke up and down your arm. “I am sorry though, [Y/n]. Really.” His apology was layered.

You bit your lip, feeling the urge to respond but not having it in you to set aside your pride. There was no way he was getting back in this easily, not after he had you questioning everything you knew due to his closed off behavior. “Just go to sleep, Lo’ak.” You sighed. He agreed by closing his eyes.

Fleeting sounds of chirping birds and leaves ruffling from the lemurs above your head rustled you from your slumber, eyelids slowly peeling apart to see the world sideways. You rubbed your eyes to clear your vision. You were on your other side now, and Lo’ak wasn’t in front of you.

You went to stretch, your limbs feeling a bit cramped from sleeping on the hard forest floor for hours on end. Regardless of your slightly achy joints and the lack of your hammock netting beneath you, this was surprisingly the best night’s sleep you’d had in a while. Weird.

Extending your legs outwards, you went to do the same for your back when you felt a pair of tightly wrapped arms around your middle halt your efforts. Your body stilled when you realized the hard surface against your upper back belonged to the man you were trying to make yourself despise.

Sometime during the brisk night you turned over onto your other side, and Lo’ak had pulled your slender body back into his and tucked himself into you. He was holding you as if this had been what he wanted to do for years, his light snoring indicating that he felt comfortable enough to sleep so deeply.

And as soon as you came to the revelation, all of your senses began to kick back in at an overwhelming rate. The feeling of his head snuggled into the small of your neck. His soft, parted lips just grazing the surface of your skin. His light breaths leaving temporary traces of heat on your collarbone made your ears flick with a feeling you didn’t want to put a name to. The backside of your body fit into his like a puzzle piece, flush with no room between as if he were scared you’d disappear in the middle of the night.

You felt your heart quicken in pace, cheeks flushing at how you had gone from not speaking, to being cuddled up with one another in just a day. Though the two of you interacted like you couldn’t stand each other, your bodies naturally knew you craved affection only the other could provide and they betrayed the front you tried to put on.

Would the two of you had fallen into each other so intimately, so accepting in the comfort of an embrace during the night, if you truly weren’t supposed to be like this?

You were too stubborn to care, and maybe a bit in denial, too. All you knew was that you needed it to stop because your brain was turning to mush the longer each rise of his chest moved your body in sync.

“Lo’ak!” You smacked the back of his hand and hissed his name, the action pulling him out of his deep sleep.

“Huh?” He grumbled, sharply inhaling with sudden consciousness and opening his eyes.

“Move. Your arms.” You spoke through gritted teeth, eyes flicking down to the limbs that had you caged.

He raised a brow, not understanding what you were talking about until he peered over your shoulder. “Oh shit,“ He instantly retracted his arms, allowing you to scramble away from him while he sat up and nervously watched you readjust your garments. He hadn’t meant to make you uncomfortable in the slightest, he didn’t even realize he was holding you in such a way until you woke him up— and right about now you looked like you wanted nothing to do with him.

Little did he know.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know. I- I didn’t mean to…” He trailed off, not being able to meet your gaze and hoping you’d finish his thought for him, so he wouldn’t have to say it aloud.

You were too flustered to even think about eye contact, shaking your head and interjecting before he could continue speaking. “It’s fine. Let’s just, pretend it didn’t happen.” You mumbled, not missing the way he looked at you as if he wanted to disagree, his mouth opening just to close a second later.

All he did was nod, clearing his throat and rising to his feet while you tried to busy yourself by brushing imaginary dirt off your body.

You tried your best to make the rest of the day as normal as possible, to no avail, of course.

For some strange reason, you couldn’t seem to keep your eyes off him. After a while of him ignoring you, it had became pretty easy to do the same to him. Before this morning, at least.

You cursed your sharp, all seeing eyes. The way they caught every muscle that tensed in his strong legs when he took a step forward, or how his defined shoulders pulled apart to send an arrow plunging through the air.

Every time he turned towards you to speak, you had to force yourself to look away. The fact that you couldn’t seem to control the thoughts invading your mind without your permission was starting to piss you off. And the way his chiseled abs cut directly into a ridiculously evident v-line above the hem of his loincloth, with the rest of it hidden and succeeding in peaking your interest, was not helping you in the slightest.

What was wrong with you? How was it that you felt even more drawn to him now that he was more detached than ever? He seemed to notice your discomfort, eyes narrowing at your focused expression cast upon a boring tree trunk when you didn’t answer to your name.

“Huh?” You snapped your eyes back in his direction when he called your name again, gulping at his oddly knowing expression.

“You seem awfully distracted. Are you alright?” He said.

“Yeah, like you’d care.” You scoffed and rolled your eyes, eager to keep up your tough and uninterested front.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He folded his toned arms in front of him and you kept your eyes locked on the scowl he wore. It was a double edged sword, either you looked away which would solidify his suspicion that something was in fact going on with you, or you continued to make eye contact with the searing orbs that were making your heartbeat bang against your eardrums. Somehow the second option seemed like the better one.

“It means exactly what you think it means. We stopped being friends a while ago, Lo’ak. That was what you wanted, and you made it very obvious.” You grabbed an arrow from your quiver and pulled it against the string of your bow, extending your arm out and aiming for the makeshift target he had carved into the tree bark with his knife a little ways in front of you.

His brows knit together, features screwing up as if you had just made some outlandish claim. “What do you mean? We never stopped being friends. I still care about you, [Y/n].”

Your heart jumped at the unexpected words that left his mouth, fingers slipping when you released the arrow. It missed the target by a long shot, landing outside and below the circle.

You bit the inside of your cheek, shaking your head and the feeling that was creeping up your throat, out and away. “Well you sure as hell don’t act like it. And I’m pretty sure friends are supposed to speak to each other.” You mumbled, digging your toes into the dirt, the soil moist along your sole while you prepped another arrow.

“I-“ He sighed, mind searching for the right words. “I promise it wasn’t personal. There was just a lot going on, and I got busy.” He moved to stand close behind you, gently raising your elbow upwards with the tips of his fingers. He pressed a hand to your stomach and pushed it against your core, a silent instruction to strengthen your stance.

Oh right. He was supposed to be coaching you on your form. So why did it feel like more than that?

You sucked a breath in through your teeth, squeezing your eyes shut to try and put out the fire his hand ignited. Your core tightened, much to his approval. But not for the reason he assumed. You cleared your throat and stared daggers into the target in front of you, the shakiness of your voice paired with your hands giving away just how flustered he was making you.

“Oh sure. Busy trying to keep me out of your life, right?” You spat, releasing your grasp and hitting millimeters from the bullseye.

You felt the heat of his firm chest against the skin of your back, a small gasp leaving your lips when his lips brushed against the tip of your ear as he leaned down. “Busy trying to keep my mind off you.” He responded, voice so low you could’ve missed it had you not been paying attention.

“What?” You turned around to face him, your faces much closer than you expected and you quickly took a step back.

“I said,” He took one closer. “I was busy trying to keep my mind, off you.”

You rolled your eyes. “Stop playing games with me, Lo’ak. You’ve confused me enough already.” This morning made sure of that.

He reached for your hands, the speed in which you dropped your bow to the ground almost comical and you allowed him to slip his fingers into your palms. “I would never say something like that if I didn’t mean it, [Y/n]. There wasn’t a single moment I wasn’t thinking about you. There never has been, and there never will be. No matter how hard I try, no matter how much space I put between us, I just can’t shake you.” He said, the pads of his thumbs smoothing along the backs of your hands.

You blinked at him in disbelief, eyes widened as you stared at him in shock. You always thought there had been mutual feelings there. The way he acted with you in the past versus the other girls in the village confirmed that. Which was why the sudden rejection of your company and his absence in your life had pained you so much. You not only lost your bestfriend, but the man you hadn’t gotten the chance to love.

“I know, I know. It’s a lot,” He sighed, gnawing at his lip as your apprehension began to mirror onto him. “And I know, I was an asshole-“

“Are an asshole.” You corrected, watching him immediately nod in agreement.

“Alright, I’m an asshole. It was stupid to distance myself from you, and I regret it more than you know, I swear of it. I just didn’t know how to sort through my feelings, and I let everyone get in my head and tell me you’d be better off and… I guess I agreed with them? But I knew there was no way you would listen, so I tried my hardest to make you hate me.” He spoke cautiously, nearly wincing at how bad it sounded now that he was saying it out loud.

Your hand came up before you could control it, palm landing across his cheek and the force of it making his head turn to the side. You glared at him with a tense jaw, the tears pricking your waterline indicating something other than anger.

Lo’ak nodded to himself, licking his bottom lip and grazing his fingers over the sting your hand had left on his cheek. “Yeah, I deserved that.” He breathed out a humorous laugh.

You waited forever to have a moment like this with him, and now that you finally had, it wasn’t anything like what you expected it to be. Confessions bringing up stifled emotions and painful memories you thought you buried ages ago. And now the only thing you could think about was all the time that had been wasted due to miscommunication.

“So let me get this straight, you genuinely thought that destroying the bond we had was better than just letting me love you? Couldn’t you have given me a choice, to decide what I thought was best for me? I loved you, Lo’ak. And you broke my heart.” The rise of your chest stuttered and made your voice crack, the sound of it making his eyes soften with remorse.

“Loved?” He parroted, amber eyes searching yours for any remnants of the feeling he hoped remained.

You snatched your hands away, not even realizing what you had said until he repeated it back to you. “It doesn’t matter anymore.” You muttered.

“The hell it doesn’t! Why didn’t you ever tell me?”

You rubbed your forehead in annoyance, feeling a headache coming on and his response only made it worse. “Do you even listen to your mom when she talks to you? Have you not noticed how they put us together in almost every situation possible?” You gesticulated your hands angrily. “They’ve been asking us why we don’t speak anymore, and this trip was a way to make that happen.”

He cursed himself under his breath, because you were right. He doesn’t listen to his mom when she talks— most of the time he’s tuning her out in case it’s just the usual scolding because he did something stupid.

“You don’t get to ask the questions, Lo’ak. I’ve been sitting here for months, trying to talk to you and all you did was push me away, like I was contagious with a fucking disease. How could you?” Your hands balled into fists. You couldn’t fathom how he had found it in his heart to treat you this way.

And you were— contagious, in a way. No matter how hard he tried to push the feelings down, to rid his body of the fluttering sensation you gave him, being around you would only bring it back even stronger than it was before it left. The truth was, Lo’ak had never been as happy as he was with you and it scared him. Scared him so much that he let others make him believe he wasn’t deserving of it. Wasn’t deserving of you.

“You wouldn’t even look at me, not once! I went to our spot everyday, hoping you would show up and you never did. So I gave up.” You said, voice growing smaller with each word and wavering. He raised his hand to wipe the tears you hadn’t realized rolled down your cheeks, his expression so contrite when you leaned away from his touch that it hurt you to watch.

“Don’t say that, please don’t say that.” He pleaded in a whisper, both hands coming up now to cup your flushed face in his hands. “Please don’t give up on us when I’ve just figured it out. I know it took a while and I know I’m an idiot for it, but please don’t tell me that I’m too late.”

You wanted so badly to say yes. Your heart ached to throw yourself into his arms and forget about the way he had treated you, but you couldn’t. The damage had been done, and you were terrified. Terrified that if you let him in again, the past would repeat itself and you knew you couldn’t handle getting your heart stomped on for a second time.

Your hands found their way to his wrists, hiccuping at the thought of pulling them away. You shook your head, eyes locking on his to give him your final answer. “I’m sorry, Lo’ak. I can’t.”

You decided to end your trip early.

You couldn’t bare to be around Lo’ak anymore. Wanting to be with him just as much as he did you, but the doubts in your mind overwrote your heart any time you so much of thought about giving him a chance.

It was a constant battle and it was taking more of a toll on you than you expected. The feeling of his eyes burning into your back was unbearable, his jaw tensing because you just wouldn’t meet his eyes.

He was in agreement. He had finally been confident enough to challenge what the others swore would happen and came to terms with his feelings, but he was too late. The fact that you were so close that he could reach out and touch you was torturous, the only thing stopping him was the wedge he had plunged between you. He wanted to scream. To go back in time and yell in the face of his past self, to tell him that this was the stupidest decision he would ever make if he went through with it. He’d never forgive himself.

As soon as you were out the forest, you went your separate ways with no words spoken. Leaving Lo’ak alone where he stood, his arm moving to reach out to you but missing your fingers just by a mere inch. He prayed you would turn around, ‘come on, come on, turn around’ aimlessly repeating the words to himself. You didn’t.

He threw his bow to the ground, balling his fists up in frustration and bringing his arms up and over his head. “Fuck!” He growled, kicking at the ground and bringing up a cloud of dirt in the process.

You sat on the floor of your hut across from your mother, poking the steamed meat and vegetables around in your bowl with a lack of interest. Your elbow against the table and your chin propped into the palm of your hand, you couldn’t find it in you to take a bite. You had no appetite and feeding yourself was the last thing on your mind right now.

“Maite?” Your mother’s voice tore you from your endless rumination, and you looked up to see her expression as one of concern.

You hummed a mindless response. "Hm?"

“You’ve barely touched your food at all. You love when I make sturmbeest for you…” Her eyes motioned down to where your finger had been poking and prodding. “Is something wrong?” She asked.

You knew your mom, and she knew you. Chances are when she was asking you a question, there was no point in lying because she already had the answer. She just wanted to see what you’d say first. Nevertheless, you decided to try anyway.

You shook your head, pushing a small chunk of food into your mouth as to not be wasteful. “Just thinking.” You mumbled.

“Mm,” She nodded, her eyes never leaving where they were pinned on you. “Why don’t you go talk to him? Sitting here playing with your food won’t change anything.”

Her question nearly had you choking on your food, coughing a bit and forcing yourself to swallow with flared eyes. “H-huh? How did you…” You gulped, your rapid blinking and now straightened posture confirming her inference.

“Well you haven’t said one word of how the trip went since you got back. Not to mention, you came home early. And you haven’t been very present at dinner time lately, so I can only assume that something happened. Yes?” She quirked a brow at you.

You sighed, nodding and pushing your bowl out in front of you. There was no use in lying, you had to tell your mom the truth. You wanted to. “Yes he… He told me how he feels, finally. But I just don’t know what to do, and I don’t know if I can trust him again. I just don’t think it’s meant to be us, mom.” Shoulders drooping at your own revelation, you wanted nothing more than it to be him.

She tsked and shook her head at you, almost annoyed at your inability to see what was right in front of you. “Eywa does not make mistakes, my child. Since the two of you were little, there were signs. You should give him a chance to redeem himself. I am certain you won’t regret it.”

You trusted your mother more than anything. Her advice had never once led you astray, and you felt something wriggle it’s way through the cracks in your wall of uncertainty. Hope.

“You think so?” You asked quietly, fingers twiddling in anticipation. You felt newfound giddiness crawling up your spine and couldn’t find it in yourself to push it back down.

“I know so. The boy has been in love with you since the day you carved your first bows together.” She laughed and your hand shot up to cover an incoming smile. “Now go, find him and tell him how you feel. Don’t make him wait any longer.” She shooed, hastily waving her hands to bring you out of your lovesick trance.

You were up and out of your hut in seconds, bidding your mother a ‘see you later’ while your legs carried you faster than you could handle. You bundled your way past greeting villagers, responding quickly so you wouldn’t have to pause your trekking. They stared at you curiously, wondering where you were off to in such a hurry, away from your home and into the forest.

The heavy padding of your steps left illuminated patches of moss in your wake. The forest coming alive around you and the beating of your heart increasing with every duck under a leaf and leap over a log, knowing you were nearing your destination.

You eventually made your way uphill and onto a clearing, scenting him before you saw him. Poking your head around a low hanging branch, you felt nervousness pool in the pit of your stomach at the sight of Lo’ak’s slightly hunched form seated on the cliff. You stared at the back of his head, trying to gain the courage to approach him and preparing yourself for the conversation to come.

It wasn’t long before he caught a whiff of your scent as well, his ears unconsciously perking up. He could never mistake the intoxicating aroma of episoth petals and healing rose, a sigh escaping him when he remembered how lovely it had been to be around you those short two days. How being close to you after months apart scratched the itch he could never reach.

You walked over, slowly lowering yourself to sit next to him. Mimicking his position and draping your legs over the cliffside. “I thought you didn’t come here anymore.” Your gentle voice broke the silence, eyes focused on the stars gleaming in the distance.

“I never stopped, I was always here when you were. Even your Uniltaron, I was there. And I wanted to talk to you, to tell you I was sorry for the way I was acting. I just didn’t know how.” He said, voice low as if he were afraid to speak. Scared that he’d make another mistake.

You turned to look at him, taking in his glum state and drooped posture. A frown forming on your lips at his confession. You spent months upset with him, trying to hate him. Thinking he discarded your friendship to the side with malice, only to find out he had suffered just as much as you did. Blaming himself for a mistake he didn’t know how to undo. You cast your gaze down at your hands, taking a breath in before your fingers went to overlap his. His head snapped in your direction, his demeanor suddenly hopeful just at the mere touch.

“Lo’ak,” you started, weakly. “I’m scared.” Your eyes stapled shut, and he quickly grabbed your hand and pulled it close to him.

His features solemn, he silently begged you to open your eyes, holding your hand in both of his. “Why?” He whispered.

You sighed shakily, swallowing around nothing. “If I give myself to you, you can’t-“ Your voice shuddered and Lo’ak lifted your hand up, rubbing his cheek against the back of it as encouragement for you to continue. “Please don’t break me again.”

“Had I known I had your heart, I would’ve never done it. I want nothing more than to be loved by you, [Y/n]. To have the privilege to love you, to call you my own. If you’ll have me.” He voiced, bringing your knuckles to his lips and placing a light kiss upon them, golden irises never leaving the ones that were starting to water in front of him. “I love you too much to put you through that again.”

You had never seen Lo’ak so vulnerable, the look in his eyes one of such sincerity that your own emotions quickly overtook you. Ridding your mind of any reluctancy as you threw yourself into his arms. He exhaled heavily, taking not another moment to wrap his arms around you and bury his face into the space where your neck met your shoulder. Inhaling the scent he missed so much. He sighed in relief, hands splayed across your back to hold you as close to him as possible.

You pulled away, to his surprise as he instantly searched your face for any indication of something wrong. You held his face in your hands, barely able to tear your focus from his parted lips as you spoke. “I love you too, ma Lo’ak.” You whispered, his eyes softening at the term of endearment. You melted into his embrace when he closed the gap between you, pressing your lips together without a regard for air. Breathing him in would just have to be enough.

Your head tilted as you deepened the kiss. He chased your lips and followed suit, not wanting to be apart from you even for a second if he could help it. The kiss was desperate and delicate, hasty and lacking of grace as the both of you quenched the thirst water would not quell.

He broke away from you unwillingly, the need for air trumping his intense desire to continue. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.” He grinned, voice breathless and fangs peeking out while his warm hands travelled up and down the small of your back. Allowing a swarm of butterflies to take home in your belly.

You giggled and clambered your way into his lap, his immediate acceptance revealed in the way his hands dropped down to hold your hips without a second thought. You draped your arms over his shoulders before you pressed your forehead to his, your fingers grazing along the skin of his back to leave goosebumps in your wake. “Just shut up and kiss me again.” You cooed, watching him lick his lips.

You didn’t have to tell him twice.

He gladly leaned in, but not completely— his top lip just faintly brushing against yours. Languidly lingering there with his mouth slightly agape as he relished in the feeling of your warmth, breathing in your air. “Lo’ak…” Your gaze settled on his half-lidded one for a moment and you almost whimpered at the tease. Your hand finding the back of his neck and pulling him into you, eager to pick up right where you left off.

His lips pressed to yours and they moved gently but fervently. The feeling of your weight in his lap making him hum into your mouth as his arms pressed your body flush against his. The desire that remained from all the months apart bled through his soft touches and washed onto you, hands traveling desperately over his heated, striped skin as if you would run out of time.

This was something you could get used to.

Reblogs + Likes + Comments are much appreciated! 💗

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redheadspark · 1 year

Note

Hawuu could i request prompts 9. standing up for a loved one and 42.realizing their feelings for Druig (if two prompts aren't allowed you can pick 42) thanks

A/N - Hawuu! Thanks for requesting this, dear friend! I love this for Druig, and I'll do number 42 for you! Thanks again!

Hold

Summary - Druig had a hold on you, whether you knew it or not

Warnings - Just a hint of angst but mostly fluff

“Let’s go for a swim,”

“What about Ajak and her meeting? And you know I can’t swim!”

“You can still put your feet in and sit near the edge, and that meeting is not for another hour or so, we can slip away for a quick swim at the lake, don’t you think?”

You grabbed your bag and followed Makkari out of the Domo, Makkari wishing to walk since running wouldn’t be as fun. The weather was nice and too warm for your liking to hide away in the Domo all day long, and since there was going to do with the humans that morning the Eternals were a bit restless. So Sersi and Ikaris went off together for a walk, Kingo went to the market to shop and mingle with the humans, Gilgamesh took Thena off riding along the riverbanks, Phastos worked on some inventions in his lab, and Sprite stayed behind in her room to read some of the books Makkari got her.

Druig ventured off earlier that morning before the heat came in, which was coming for him since he was mostly one to be on his own and ponder his thoughts and predictions about the humans. You knew he liked the solstice most of the time, but not always. He was more hardwired to think deeper and more sensible when it came to the human race, not that the others didn’t. But with how he would talk to you about wishing there to be peace, wishing to stop all the hurt that they would inflict on one another, you knew how deep his heart and soul was.

It was so easy to fall into a friendship with him, yet in the back of your mind you wondered if it would go past that.

Makkari was humming along as you two were talking together along the that you knew would lead to the lake. With the sun beating down on the back of your neck and the sweet smells of the wildflowers that already bloomed, you were looking forward to unwind. Some of the recent tasks and jobs you had to do for the humans in their city seemed a bit stressful and uneasy, especially with a couple of near death experiences with Deviants. But thankfully, you were going to leave the city in a few days. It was both bittersweet and celebrated since you all grew to love the humans there and some of the hidden gems.

Including the very lake you are going to.

Once the lake was in sight, you saw Makkari have a pep in her step as the clear blue waters was seen over the little hill. You were revived too, thinking that a dip in the lake would be the best relief on a warm day. Yet you never realized that you two would have company, since you froze in your spot on the path from seeing a singular person in the lake. Instantly you knew who it was: the ivory skin was glistened in the water, the highlighted brown hair against a pale forehead, and bright blue eyes that almost mirrored the same shade of the. Lake water.

Druig.

He was still wearing his dark undergarment pants while he was swimming, his muscular back was on display as he was moving back and forth in the lake and going stroke for stroke. Of course he was your friend, all the time he was your friend and someone you could rely on with your own troubles and needs. Then again, you always had the small possibility of liking him as more than a friend.

Knowing how massive his heart was, now kind he was to the humans that he spoke to, how self assured he was with his beliefs and how he felt about him, that were all great attributes that loved and adored him. Plus it never helped that you saw him as handsome. Even now as you were watching him swim, freely and with nothing hindering him, he looked almost heavenly in the blue waters.

Did you like him?

“Hey! You two comin’ to join me for a swim?” You were snapped back into reality as you heard Druig call out from his spot in the water.

Sorry to break up your solo time, Makkari signed as she walked down the path to the edge of the lake Druig waving her off.

“It’s fine! Come on in, the water’s nice! Plus it’s the once place Ikkaris honest know about, get the golden boy can’t swim like you ladies can,” Druig joked as Makkari was now to her own undergarments. You made it to the edge too, slowly getting down to your undergarments wig ease as Makkari was not waddling not the water. You could hear her sigh in relief as she was getting now calf deep in the water and then to her waist. Once you are down to your undergarments which included pants and a shirt, you dipped your toes in to feel the sudden chill of the water. It made you shiver a bit, and you look out to see there was a massive shallow area in the lake before it dips in deep.

Druig was laughing while Makkari was swimming circles around him, her own smile was just as radiant as the lake water while you were going in a bit deeper and deeper, now about knee deep and right at the edge of the shallow area. The small little dip that dropped off was right in front of it, and although you were an all powerful Eternal who had more strength in your fingers than any human, you were still afraid to attempt to swim. After one nasty attempt to try and learn, all thanks to Kingo, you decided to wait to learn. Sure it seemed childish, but you didn’t care, you weren’t ready. Maybe you’re still not.

“Hey, want me to hold ya?”

Druig swam up to the small edge, hovering a bit in the water as he was looking up at you with his glistened hair against his forehead and his eyes beyond bright. You blinked, fiddling with your fingers.

“What?” You asked.

“I’ll hold ya if you want,” He explained, sounding calm and gentle with you. He knew you never swam and you had some fear swimming, he was even mad at Kingo for almost letting you drown when you were trying to learn from him, but Druig himself never pushed you into learning. It was one of the moments that you never forgot about Druig, his heart for you and making sure you are okay. This was the same way.

“Here, come sit,” he said, gesturing to the ledge that was under the water. Carefully you sat, feeling the water now to your waist and your feel dangling over the edge and in front of Druig. You felt your heart get quick, your hands shaking a bit from being on the top of the water. Druig sensed it and moved, lacing your fingers together and being palm to palm. Instantly, you felt his skin along yours, almost like his rhythmic heartbeat that he was pressing against your own hand.

“Look at me,” He said soothingly, your eyes going from his joined hands over him. He was staring right into your eyes, looking rather calm and sincere with you as he spoke again, “I won’t let ya go, I promise.”

Nodding your head, you took the first moving and slid into the deep water. Your heart plummeted and you were about to gasp out when an arm was instantly around your waist. Your arm was along his shoulder, clinging to you for a moment since you were now hovering in the water and Druig was holding you up. You should feel fear, genuine fear since the last time you tried this, you almost drowned. But this was different, this was another feeling.

Safe. You wee safe.

“There. See?” Druig said as he was still holding you close to him and giving you a warm smile. That’s when it hit you, in the right moment as you grinned back at him. All of those fleeting feelings that you were harboring and wondering were true, all of those times you two spent together on the Domo or out with the humans, they were making sense now as Druig was helping you in such a vulnerable moment. The fear was gone, the worry and wondering was non existent, what you were feeling for Druig was true.

That’s when it hit you: you did like him. Really liked him. Oh…

“Thank you,” You replied lightly, seeing him grin get a bit bigger in return. Yeah, yeah you had it bad for the mind controller.

A splash got on both you and Druig’s faces, you both looking over to see Makkari grinning as she waved.

“Aye, that’s not fair Makkari!” Druig said in a playful tease as Makkari rolled her eyes. You had no idea that Druig was thinking that same thing as you were as he held you close, that he too liked you for so long but was trying to figure out his own feelings and where his heart stayed. If he could, Druig would hold you just a close for as long as he could since he knew you felt safe with him.

And neither of you knew that Makkari already knew of your feelings for one another. She simply rolled her eyes and swam away, wondering when you two will ever get together.

The End

@a-lumos-in-the-nox @botanicalbarnes @heartofwritiing

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4ttack-ur-heart · 1 year

Text

I Think I Wanna Marry You

Pairing: Levi x fem!reader

Warnings: fluff, light angst but it’s a happy ending, levi being nervous about proposing.

Summary: You take great care of Levi, you always have. When Hange reveals your intentions of marriage to him, Levi does everything he can to make it happen- just be sure to add a few bumps.

So I know I promised this Levi fic out yesterday, but sadly life got in the way. My bad for any mistakes, I wanted to post this asap. ANYWAYS, I kinda got carried away with the original idea and went super wordy with it, so enjoy a longer fic <3

Making your way outside was a struggle. Your vision was slightly obscured from the various items held in your arms.

“Excuse me.” You said as multiple scouts dodged out of your way. Some of them chuckled at you and others offered you help.

“You got it, (l/n)?”

“All good!”

Your boots scuffed across the dirt path as you walked carefully to the training grounds. The sounds of grunts and shuffling filled through your ears as you approached the open ground. You set the items down gently on the floor, careful not to knock anything over.

Taking a seat next to the pile, you rested your arm on your propped up leg, taking in the scenery in front of you.

Your eyes scanned over the crowd of soldiers sparring with each other until they settled on one.

His scouts jacket was set on a nearby bench and his white button up was untucking slightly from his movements. Sweat beaded down his face and his hair was swaying back and forth in front of his face.

The sun was brutally beating down on the grounds and you never understood how they could train so heavily in the scorching heat.

Levi was training with Miche. The two men, although different in size, were evenly matched. Miche threw a fist at Levi, but he quickly retaliated by knocking his arm away and sending a powerful kick to his abdomen. Miche grunted from the attack, but quickly straightened up as Levi charged at him once more.

The men threw hits back and forth until Levi managed to knock Miche off balance. Levi sent his leg to the back of Miche’s knee before jabbing his elbow on his back. The tall man hit the ground with a grunt.

“It’s not even a fair fight anymore.” Levi said, holding a hand out to help him up.

Miche chuckled and took it. “Let’s not forget I’m the one who kicked your ass first.”

Levi scoffed at his response, but he couldn’t deny it. He gave it his best, but Miche did manage to take him down in the Underground.

Miche wiped the dust from his uniform and met your watching eyes. He nodded his head at you and Levi turned around, looking at your sitting figure just feet from him.

You smiled at Levi as he approached you, a more mellow look on his face. “What are you doing here? I thought you had paperwork to finish.”

“I did, but I finished early and wanted to see you.” Standing up, you turned to the pile you brought with you. “Here.”

“What’s all this?” His steel eyes scanned over the pile.

“I got you some water.” You handed him the jug, which he graciously accepted. “Then I brought you a towel.”

Again, he took the item.

“And some food in case you were hungry.”

“(Y/n).” Levi started, but you rambled on, pulling out various items.

“I didn’t know if you were getting sunburned or not, so I also brought some of that cooling balm from the market.”

“(Y/n).”

“Oh! I also brought some of that bug spray Hange made. I know the mosquitos are brutal this time of year-”

“(Y/n), darling.” Levi said firmly. You paused mid sentence and looked up at him. “I appreciate it, believe me I do, but you didn’t need to do all this.”

“But I wanted too.” You answered back.

Levi chuckled. “I can see that. How on earth did you carry everything?”

Shrugging, you wrapped the towel around his neck and used the end to wipe the sweat off his face. Then you opened the cooling balm and slathered some of the goo on your fingers. “I have my ways.”

Before Levi could speak up, your fingertips attacked his face and started spreading the balm on his reddened cheeks and nose.

You notice a few scouts staring at your actions. Clearly trying not to laugh at their strong Captain getting pampered. “The hell are you staring at? Get back to training!”

The scouts quickly ducked their heads and walked away.

“I don’t need all this, darling.” He insisted.

“Your face says otherwise.” You smiled. “Finish your water.”

Levi wrapped an arm around you waist and pecked your cheek. “Thanks.”

————

After a brutal day of training and working on the new scout formation with Erwin, you were beat. You settled into your sleepwear for the night and made your way to Levi’s office, a tray of tea balanced in your hand.

Your knuckles wrapped against the door briefly before you shoved the door open, taking a second to rebalance the tray of very hot tea. Levi was doing his infamous resting face as he saw your figure unceremoniously enter the room.

“Tch, I could’ve been in a meeting.”

You walked over to his desk and placed the tray down. Setting a cup in front of him, you carefully poured him his tea. “Yeah, and…? The higher ups love me.”

“If you say so.”

You shot him a playful glare and he gave you a small smile in return. He picked up his tea from the top of the cup and brought it to his lips.

“Careful, it’s hot.” You warned him.

“Really? I couldn’t tell with the all the steam.”

“Okay, Mr. Grumpy, finish your tea and we’ll head to bed. I’m tired.” You poured a small amount of milk into your own cup, stirring it gently with a small spoon, a gentle clinking sound echoing in the room.

Levi took a sip and placed the cup down, picking up his pen and scribbling his signature down on a few spots. “I’m not stopping you, darling. If you’re tired, go to bed. You know I don’t go to bed at a decent hour.”

“Yeah, that’s gonna change.” You said nonchalantly and took a small sip. “Finish up, cause we’re going to bed in 20 minutes.”

“Darling-”

“No, I want to try something.” You cut him off.

Levi let out a small sigh, but nonetheless nodded at you. “Alright.”

After about 15 minutes, Levi shuffled his papers together and placed your empty cups back on the tray.

“C’mon.” His hand grasped yours and he led you to his quarters. The room was very simple and tidy, not a speck of dust either. You looked at the small bookshelf in the corner of the room filled with countless romance novels you recommended to him.

“Did you read ‘Just Us’ yet?” You asked and settled into his bed, the scent of fresh linen filling your nostrils. The book was laying on the nightstand, the bookmark peeking out of the bottom of the book.

“I started it, but haven’t had time to finish it.” He said and started to undress.

“You should! It’s about a young couple that fell in love instantly and their life- oh my god, the wedding scene! Ahh~” You rolled across the bed and draped an arm frantically over your forehead.

Levi deeply chuckled at you. “Yes, you’ve told me countless times about it.”

“Yeah, cause you should read it.” You rolled your eyes.

“I will, I will. Now, what did you want to try?” Levi sat on the edge of the bed and turned towards you, now dressed in more comfortable clothes.

“Come here.” You quickly sat up and made grabby hands towards him. Levi obeyed and sat closer in front of you.

“Now what?”

“Lay down.”

“Darling, I cuddle you, not the other way around.” Levi crossed his arms.

“Shut up, you old man. Just do what I say.”

Levi scoffed and hesitantly laid down against you. His head was leaning on your chest as you sat up against the headboard and shuffled under the blankets.

Levi was stiff against you, clearly not used to the position.

“Relax, Lee.” Your hand brushed through his hair, trailing down his undercut. “Close your eyes.”

So he did. He let his eyes drop shut and focused on trying to fall asleep. The steady beating of your heart lulling him into a relaxed state.

He threw an arm around your stomach and pulled his body closer to yours. You tried not to coo at the sight and continued trekking your fingers through his hair. Levi seemed to like the gesture and you thought if he was a cat, he’d be purring up a storm.

The room was silent as you picked up the book on the nightstand, your hand fumbling to set up the book in a way without disturbing Levi.

Flipping through the chapters, you found your favorite part. The wedding.

Levi was snuggled up against you, soft snores escaping his lips as he was clearly knocked out.

Idiot. Watch me find out he’s a bottom, too.

You read through the book, the vivid detail and dialogue playing out perfectly in your head. You could only hope it could be you and Levi in the novel.

The main character reminded you so much of Levi. Very strong and intimidating, until he met the love of his life.

After the ceremony, the couple in the novel secretly snuck out into the garden of their reception. A stolen dance away from everyone else. The scene was intimate and private as the couple swayed under the moonlight. Drunken laughter heard from inside their venue, but they didn’t care. Their dance was something you only dreamt of with Levi.

“Maybe one day.” You murmured, now very sleepy. Sagging down against the headboard, you pulled Levi tighter against you and shut your eyes.

——————

“You seem well rested.” Hange commented at Levi. She was right, while he still remained his usual self, he was more relaxed and not so much on edge.

“(Y/n) helped me sleep last night at a decent hour.” He replied and looked over some of Hange’s notes.

Hange hummed in response.

“You know she wants to marry you, right?” They said.

Levi froze in place, his eyes widening at the comment. “W-what?”

“Don’t act stupid, Levi. I knew you were a guy, but I still thought you were one of the few that had a brain.” Hange laughed at the stiffened man, their smile faltered slightly as he didn’t seem to relax. “You did know that, right?”

“I-uh. W-well-” Levi couldn’t find the words. “How do you know?”

“Cause she told me.” Hange replied, sticking their face in their microscope, analyzing some new Titan sample.

“When?”

“A few weeks ago.”

“And you’re just telling me now?” Levi said clearly irritated.

“Damn, shorty, I thought you knew. That girl loves you to death. Have you seriously never thought about it?”

Of course he has. He’s thought about it every day. Levi was hesitant, though. Not about wanting to marry you, just scared something bad will happen after everything he’s been through. Everything he’s loved in his life was brutally ripped from him, so he’s always carried that fear inside of him.

“I have- I do want to marry her.”

Hange smiled at him. They rolled their eyes and gave out a loud laugh. “Then what the hell are you waiting for?! Get to it.”

—————

“Levi, I bought some of those nice smelling oils you like. Ya know the ones from that small shop in town?” You opened the small bag and set the vials on his desk.

Levi didn’t look up from his papers, a small hum leaving his lips as he was clearly not paying attention.

“Lee, you okay?” You asked and tilted your head at him, you noticed he tensed up as you got closer to him.

“Mhm.” He didn’t look up, his eyes still scanning through the papers.

“You sure? You seem distracted.”

He let out a heavy sigh and his hard eyes met yours. “I’m fine, just trying to work, (Y/n).”

Your shoulders sagged at his tone, clearly confused. “Maybe you’re just stressed. Do you want to head to bed? You slept so good the other night, like you woke up and your hair was sticking-”

“Trying to work, (Y/n).” He repeated sternly, making you frown.

“O-oh. Okay, I’ll leave you alone, then.” You said quietly and reached for the vials set on his desk.

Putting a few back in their bag, your hand grazed the last one when it fell forwards and collided with the ground.

The small glass jar shattered upon impact, making Levi’s eyes scan to the mess now on the floor. You flinched at the sound and quickly bent down the pick up the broken jar, nose wrinkling as the strong scent invaded your nostrils.

“Shit, sorry.”

Levi abruptly stood up, the chair screeching against the floorboard and his hand reached up to touch his forehead. “(Y/n)…”

Your eyes met his from the floor.

“I’m trying to work. Please just go.”

“I know, I’m leaving. I just thought these would cheer you up.”

Levi rolled his eyes and opened the window behind his desk. “Yeah, and now I’m going to have a headache from the oils scent. Thank you.”

Your lip wobbled at his words, clearly feeling hurt by his annoyed mood. “Look, I don’t know what’s wrong with you, but you don’t have to take it out on me.”

“I’m trying to work! For gods sake, (Y/n).”

You stood up from your spot on the floor and bit your lip in a weak attempt to not cry. “You don’t have to be an asshole.”

Turning on your heel, you made your way to leave the room. A body suddenly blocked the doorway and you glanced up, before ducking your head down and brushing past him.

“Commander Erwin.”

Erwin looked at you with a confused expression and tried to ask what happened as he noticed the tears escaping your eyes, but you quickly left before he could.

His gaze looked towards Levi and then the broken vial on the floor, a stern look adorning his features. “Care to explain?”

Levi let out yet another sigh and angrily rushed a hand through his raven hair. “I’m stressed out and I took it out on her.”

Erwin let out a ‘hmph’ at Levi’s explanation. “She’s just trying to help you.”

Levi knew that. Of course he knew that. Everything he’s been doing has been stressing him out lately trying to make everything perfect for you.

Yeah, you were right, he was an asshole. Levi reached into his drawer and pulled out a rag. He crouched down to the spill and covered the liquid. “I know, I just don’t want her to find out. I left the fucking book on the desk and I thought she’d see it.”

Levi removed a few papers off his desk and revealed the open book of ‘Just Us’ flipped to the wedding chapter. He had several lines were underlined and circled with details annotated.

Erwin shut the door behind him and stepped closer, letting out a grim chuckle. “Well, you certainly took care of that, didn’t you?”

“Tch.” Levi glared at the commander. “What the hell are you doing here anyways? It’s late.”

Erwin pulled out a a few papers folded together. A letter. “I managed to get in contact with the jeweler. Told him about the rather sad income out soldiers receive along with your story.”

Levi crossed his arms hardened his gaze. “So you made me out as some basket case?”

“Not necessarily. It doesn’t matter, what matters is that he cut the price in half.” Erwin handed Levi the papers. Levi tore the papers from his grasp them and scanned over the writing, his eyes widened as he read through.

“He wants me to pick it up in the morning.” Levi whispered and felt his hands getting clammy. This was it. Tomorrow morning he’d have the ring.

The ring he picked out for you, his future wife.

———

“Levi?” You knocked on the door to his office.

You woke up to an empty bed this morning and you thought he was still mad at you from last night, so you made him some tea as a peace offering.

No answer. You opened the wooden door to the room, the loud creaking ringing out in the empty room.

“He’s not here.” You recognized Erwin’s voice from behind you. You jumped at his words, not expecting him to appear behind you.

Your hand rebalanced the sloshing cup of tea in your grip. “Where is he?”

“He went into town.”

For what? Levi never really liked to venture into the city on his own and if he did, he always took you with him. You knew he’d much rather prefer a nice stroll in the forest or around the courtyard, so hearing this was a surprise. “Oh, alright. Would you like some tea, sir? I’d hate to see it go to waste.”

Erwin nodded and took the cup from you and set a hand in your shoulder. “Are you okay? You looked rather upset last night.”

You stiffened at his question and nodded your head. “Y-yeah. Sorry about that, sir. We kind got into it.”

The commander gestured for you to walk with him and so you did. The halls were mostly empty, only a few scouts lingering before starting their daily duties. “Stop with the formalities, (Y/n). You don’t have to apologize for your feelings. He’s under a lot of stress right now and I had sent him to go meet up with some of the MP’s.” The lie easily slipped off his tongue as you both stopped in front of his door.

“I understand he’s stressed,” you started and turned the corner to his office. “I just don’t want him to feel like he can’t talk to me about it.”

Erwin took out the key to his office and unlocked the door. “If I know Levi, he doesn’t want his own stress to add on to yours.” The door opened with a loud creak. “Give him some time to cool off and figure things out. You didn’t do anything wrong, please don’t forget that.”

His words brought you a sense of calming. It was nice to hear it from someone else. But until Levi wasn’t upset, you’d continue to think otherwise.

“Thank you, Erwin.” You smiled up at him through watery eyes.

“Of course, my office is always open when you need me.” He gestured to the opened door, making you laugh. “Why don’t you go help Miche? He’s dealing with the new squads and you know how hard he can be.”

“Yes, sir.”

—————

The day dragged on slowly with your mind being clouded on Levi. You weren’t mad at him, just concerned. Both of you had worked so hard to communicate your feelings and concerns throughout your relationship so that situations like this wouldn’t happen.

“Squad 3 advance in! Give Squad 1 their chance to recover!” Miche shouted at the training soldiers. The squads were practicing with some of the new Titan dummies, thanks to Hange and some of the Garrison soldiers, they were able to have more movement and spin on the mechanisms. It gave training more of a purpose since they weren’t just stiff pieces of wood anymore.

You stood next to Miche, surprised by the new recruits. “What do you think of them?” You asked.

“They’re good, still need work though. They won’t be truly ready until they’re face to face with the real thing.” His arms were crossed and a hardened expression carried on his face.

You nodded at his words and a small silence washed over you both as you continued with training.

“Are you going to address the elephant in the room?”

“We’re outside.”

“Don’t be a smartass, you know what I mean.” He gave out a small chuckle.

“Erwin?” You asked and sighed when the man nodded. “Dammit.”

“Everything okay?” Miche always treated you like a little sister. Watching out for you and being protective before you and Levi had started dating. Miche wasn’t too happy when he found out you liked him and knowing how Levi could be, but as he saw how Levi was allowing himself to become closer with you, he eventually pushed you two together.

“Yeah, I guess I just caught him at a bad moment.” Shrugging it off, you tried to downplay the situation. The more you talked about it, the more it wracked your brain.

“Still doesn’t excuse it though, (Y/n).” He replied, voice now more serious. “Just give me the signal and I’ll beat his ass.”

You laughed. “Didn’t he kick you to the floor the other day?”

Miche’s response made you squeal as he wrapped an arm around your neck and dragged his knuckles across your hairline. “Ah, I’m sorry!”

—————

Levi hands felt clammy, he was nervous. Very nervous. He was walking through the halls at a brisk pace, desperate to find you.

The small velvet box in his pocket felt like it weighed a hundred pounds as it gently bumped against his thigh with every step.

Levi took a deep breath and knocked on your door. A faint ‘come in’ was heard and he pushed the door open slowly.

“Levi?”

His steel blue eyes met yours hastily. You were still in your casual clothes, your sleepwear in your hands.

“I-I, uh. Shit.” He muttered, losing his confidence.

“Is everything okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost, want me to put some tea on?” Concern was laced with your voice.

Fuck, how the hell were you so sweet to him? Even after he snapped at you last night for no reason, you still found a way to take care of him. Swallowing the bile in his throat, Levi straightened his posture.

“No, darling, I’m alright.” He made his way over to you and he took both of your hands in his. You gave Levi a concerned face, why was he acting so strange?

“(Y/n)…” Levi started, thumbs nervously rubbing over the back of your hands. “Listen, I need to apologize for last night. I was being a jerk and you didn’t do anything for me to speak to you in that way.”

His thumb then trailed over to your left ring finger. The area naked and bare, but not for long, he hoped.

“Aw honey, why do you look so distressed? It’s okay.” Your gaze softened and you reached up to rub your thumb against his cheek, you raised a brow when you realized his face had a thin layer of sweat. “Erwin told me everything.”

Levi almost choked on his spit and his eyes widened. “H-he what?”

“Yeah, he told me how he had to send you in town for all those errands with the MP’s. I’d be mean about it too.”

Oh, thank god.

Levi let out a sigh in relief. “N-no, that’s not w-why-shit.”

You started to become concerned for him. The poor guy was starting to sweat and now he’s stuttering. He only did that when he’s nervous.

“Levi, I need you to be honest with me right now, you’re letting your thoughts get the best of you. What is going on?” Now your own thoughts started to haunt your mind. “Are you…”

Oh god, you didn’t even want to finish your sentence, afraid it going to be true.

“Are you breaking up with me?”

“Oh, no- god, fuck no.” Levi quickly reassured you. He wrapped his arms around your frame and pulled you close to him. Your arms remained at your side. You were beyond confused on what was happening. “Just come with me outside, it’s like a sauna in here.”

Levi knew you were getting really suspicious now, hell it was the middle of autumn and it left the stone castle feeling like an ice tundra, but he couldn’t help the way his cravat suddenly felt like it was suffocating him.

Leading you through the hallway, his hand never left yours, and neither did the puzzled look on your face. You thought it was going to be a simple apology, he literally just gave it to you, but for some reason he’s dragging it out.

The chilly air surrounded your figure, making you instantly shiver. The breeze was light, but the air cold. Levi was sure to cool down in this weather. The full moon lit up the base with hues of blue casted shadows. The crickets and cicadas chirped their songs along with the rustling of dead leaves as they plummeted to the earth.

“Here, darling.” Levi said and draped his jacket over your shoulders, you graciously accepted it. The man now stood in front of you in just his white button up and black slacks.

“Okay, sorry about that whole mess back there.” A slight red tinted his face. “I’m nervous about this.”

“What-?”

“I love you, so fucking much. I was scared as hell when we first got together, because I was afraid you’d leave me like everyone else. Besides, Miche made it very clear he didn’t like me.”

You let out a small giggle at his words, and he continued.

“Eventually he came around, and surprisingly enough everyone supported us. Sure, a bit of teasing here and there but that’s the fun part. Anyways- fuck, sorry, I don’t mean to keep rambling on. What I’m trying to say is Hange told me that you said you’ve been thinking about marriage-”

Your eyes widened and you mouth dropped open. Dammit Hange. This could go one of two ways…

“And so have I.” His finger reached up to your chin and pushed your mouth closed. “It hasn’t left my mind since I realized I love you, and I was scared you weren’t ready yet, but hearing it gave me all the reassurance I needed.”

Levi’s hands patted the pockets of his slacks and he could swear his stomach dropped 6 feet when he couldn’t find the small box. His gaze suddenly shifted to his jacket you had wrapped around your shoulders. With an awkward reach and a disappointed sigh, Levi reached into the coat pocket and pulled out the box.

“The reason we got into a fight yesterday was entirely my fault. Erwin lied to cover for me, I went into town for this and I was trying to work on the proposal and there were things on the desk that might have spoiled it.”

You gasped and covered you mouth with your hands when you saw the velvet box. There’s no way. Tears immediately welled in your eyes as he opened the ring box.

It was stunning, a silver band with a glimmering diamond in the center along with smaller diamonds strewed around the bands.

“Now, there’s about a thousand different ways I wanted this to happen, but I wanted to do this now. I need you to know that I will always love you. No matter what stupid fights we have, no matter who is angry at who, I’m here for it… all of it. You care for me so much, as I do you and no one has ever treated me as kindly as you have. So I ask you…”

Levi dropped down to one knee, his fingertips brushing against the box. “(Y/n) (L/n), will you marry me?”

You were speechless for a moment, trying to decipher if this was real or not. Sniffling you nodded your head and rushed out your answer.

“Yes, of course.”

Levi slipped the ring on your finger with tears in his eyes and stood back up. His hand brushed away a few tears that escaped down your face.

You pulled him in for a hug and started crying into his shoulder. “I love you.”

Levi pulled you tighter against him, his lips planted themselves across your forehead. “I love you too, darling.”

“I can’t wait to marry you.”

———

Lemme know if you guys want a part 2 with their wedding ;)

Tag list: @sad-darksoul @cullenswife

#aot x reader #aot imagines #attack on titan #aot fluff #levi ackerman #levi ackerman x reader #levi headcanons #levi x reader #levi x reader fluff #Levi x reader angst #levi ackerman fluff #levi drabble #levi x y/n #levi x fem!reader #levi x you

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sebastianswallows · 3 months

Text

The English Client — Thirty-one

— PAIRING: Tom Riddle x F!Reader

— SYNOPSIS: The year is 1952. Tom is working for Borgin and Burkes. He is sent to Rome to acquire three ancient books of magic by any means necessary. One in particular proves challenging to reach, and the only path forward is through a pretty, young bookseller. A foreigner like him, she lives alone, obsessed with her work... until Tom comes into her life.

— WARNINGS: angst, fluff, smut, cock warming, wet and messy frottage, fingering, creampie, Parseltongue dirty talk during sex

— WORDCOUNT: 3.8k

— TAGLIST: @esolean @localravenclaw @slytherins-heir

Tom woke when he felt a nudge against his ribs. He’d pulled the duvet up tucking both of them in before they fell asleep in each other’s arms. The room was still dark but they must’ve dozed off for quite a while. They’d drifted apart and sometime during the night, his length slipped out of her. His body was cold again. With a sigh, he turned and saw her still asleep beside him. Her brow was furrowed, lips pulled in a pout, and she twitched and shifted in her curled-up pose. She was dreaming… Or perhaps having a nightmare. Tom leaned closer, his head brushing against hers as he brought his ear close to her lips to better hear those gentle murmurs. It wasn’t English she was speaking. Perhaps Italian? Either way, it was clear she was denying something… Or refusing someone. Struggling against some dread certainty that seemed to loom over her even in her sleep. She tossed and turned, her protestations louder, clearer cries of “no, no, no” until Tom took pity and shook her shoulder.

“Ah!”

“It’s just me.”

She looked blearily around herself until her eyes settled on him, on his silhouette against the dark, and with a mutter of his name she snuggled up against his chest.

“You were dreaming,” said Tom quietly as he wrapped his arms around her. Her hair stuck to her naked, sweaty back, and against his chest, he could feel her breasts, her heartbeat. It was frantic. “What about?”

“I can’t remember anymore,” she mumbled.

That was a lie — even without Legilimency he could tell that. But it was hers to keep.

“Did I wake you up?”

“No,” he said, lying as well. His hand settled on her head, petting her the way he would a wild animal caught in a trap. “I just heard you talking in your sleep. I thought you were awake as well.”

“Oh. What was I saying?”

“I couldn’t tell,” he smiled. “So your secrets are safe. For now.”

She chuckled too but buried her face deeper. He could feel tears at the corners of her eyes against his chest and her long lashes tickled him. Her breath fanned hot and fast and although she tried to hide it, her body was still shaking.

“I have bad dreams too, you know,” said Tom on a quite mad whim of honesty.

“Really?”

“Sometimes.”

“What of?”

“Death.” Why did I say that?! Tom, you idiot.

The silence afterwards was palpable from either side. While he struggled not to slap himself he could almost hear her thinking, feel her mind heat up and her limbs grow cold.

They held each other until they fell asleep again. It caught them by surprise. She was the first to wake a few hours afterwards as the pinkish light of morning slipped in through the curtains. Tom felt her get out of bed and caught a glimpse of her body as she went through the door into the kitchen on the tips of her toes. When she came back with a glass of pomegranate juice he didn’t even pretend to still be asleep. She smiled at him and sat behind him on the edge of the bed to take a drink. He could see goosebumps rise on her arms, the way she curled in a little on herself and raised her feet off the floor, and turned to rub a hand across her shoulders.

“Come back into bed,” he mumbled sleepily.

“Mhm…” she muttered, drinking deeply. “You want some?”

He propped himself up on his elbow and took the glass from her, drinking what was left. It was sweet and sharp, a bracing sting across his tongue that woke him up that instant. Her lips were already painted red from it and he couldn’t wait to kiss them. She must’ve had the same idea. With a sultry smile, she took the empty glass from him and put it on the table, then leaned forward to capture his mouth in a kiss. Tom’s arms wrapped around her and he pulled her back. She rolled on top of him and giggled, slipping back beneath the sheets.

“My turn to warm you up now,” he smiled. “I can finally return the favour…”

“Why are you so cold all the time?” she asked, rubbing her nose against his.

“Maybe I have a reptile in my family tree somewhere.”

She giggled and wrapped her arms around him, their bodies brushing up against each other. Tom pressed his lips to hers in a long, lingering kiss, drinking in her little sighs and moans as he dragged his fingertips across her thighs. With a light shuffle, he eased his hands between them and took his cock in hand then slowly, teasingly, slid it right between her legs. She parted from his lips and moaned, head leaned back deliciously at the feeling of his shaft. It was still soft but hardened as it brushed up against the bottom of her folds. She was still a little damp and swollen from the earlier battering he gave her and he couldn’t think of a better place to come to rest against.

“Again?” she whined but smiled a little.

Tom shook his head. “We can just stay like this.”

She purred and seemed to melt against him. Shivers ran up and down her spine as she felt him hardening between her thighs and she couldn’t help but cross her legs a little to make it even better for him. Tom moaned, shifting gently on the bed so that he could reach just the slightest bit further, then began to thrust his hips back and forth in slow and measured motions. Her soft thighs tugged against his cock, making the velvety skin play over the growing hardness.

“You want me to dirty your sheets, do you?” he grinned. The feeling of her delicate muscles tightening around him was almost as good as when he was inside her.

“Not if I catch it,” she whispered, straddling herself more firmly on his cock as she looked into his eyes.

He licked his lips and felt his member twitch. It slid smoothly now, coated so completely in the juices cloying on her thighs.

“What will you catch it in, silly girl?”

“I wouldn’t insult the person who holds your family jewels in such a tight grip,” she whispered with a smile, crossing her legs even tighter, “or she might decide to be a very silly girl indeed.”

“I love it when you threaten me.”

Tom rested his head right beside hers on the pillow, close enough to kiss her whenever he liked, while the arm around her waist slid lower, behind her thigh. She giggled at the tickling sensation of his fingers, and Tom kissed her nose. Behind her, he curled his hand over his crown and held it there. He shivered every time he thrust into it, hips stuttering whenever he pulled back, and each time he pushed himself so close that their thighs brushed together he struggled against the temptation to aim a little higher. He stopped to catch his breath, their chests sticking to each other, his lips so close to hers, and waited for his heart to calm while his cock drooled slick into his hand. It was oversensitive by now so much that every little clenching of her hole above him or her folds that hugged his shaft could make him come. She whined and shifted against him, wanting more. Her puffy clit was rubbed raw from the thrusting of his cock and the scraping of the coarse hair around his root and it was getting harder for her to lie still.

He cursed at the feeling of her juices licking their sweet and messy path along him.

“Tom,” she whispered, “what was that?”

“Hmm? What?”

“It sounded like a strange language or a sort of hissing sound…”

He swallowed the knot in his throat. It was a little awkward to use parseltongue in bed but he supposed he couldn’t help it. All he could do now was distract her from it.

He pushed himself up and nudged a hand against her shoulder, easing her back on the bed with him on top of her. Taking advantage of her frightened gasp he kissed her deeply while his hips began to thrust again, down, down desperately against the warm welcoming lips that guarded the entrance to her body. His other hand was at her thighs again, ready to catch what his cock spilt before it seeped into the bed.

“Tom,” she moaned, back arching, body squirming, “so good… Y-you will, again?”

“Will what?” he asked with another teasing kiss.

“Come inside me?”

He moaned as he steadied himself with his knees around her legs, pressing them tighter together. “You have such a clever mouth on top,” he whispered, “and such a hungry one below…”

She chuckled and reached up to kiss him, sliding her tongue like a snake between his lips. “Your fault you taste so good.”

“You should be sated,” he purred. “Still have me inside there from last night, don’t you?” Resting his elbows beside her messy head, Tom leaned down to whisper to her. “Do you feel it dripping out of you?”

She whimpered and nodded, cheek brushing against his as she pouted. “If I move a little bit,” she said with a twisting of her hips, “like this…”

He chuckled and gave her a quick slap on the bottom. It made her jump and the muscles of her thighs tense deliciously, so he decided to do it again.

“Tom!” she giggled.

“Naughty little witch, you think you can say things like that to me?”

She stuck her tongue out in a petulant way. “You asked.”

“Say it again, then,” he whispered, nuzzling his nose against her cheek as he grabbed a handful of her ass and squeezed until he felt her folds part around his cock.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled herself a little higher until her lips brushed the shell of his ear. “I can feel your cum inside me,” she whispered, “warm and thick… There’s so much of it, Tom…”

He moaned and kissed her neck, his hips beginning to thrust down into her again. With her every whisper, his cock twitched, kicking upward until his head brushed right against the rim of her tight hole.

“You like me that much?” she asked in a breathy voice designed to make him suffer. “You made that much of it just for me?”

“I know how insatiable you are,” he murmured.

His hand left her ass and he paused his movements just enough for him to brush his fingers up her slit. She shivered in his arms at the promise of him coming into her again but instead, he just played with her a little, gathering her slick and his that dripped out of her to then bring it to her clit. She gasped and arched her back, her hardening nipples tickling his chest. Tom held his hand still for her and leaned up to see her face. She looked dazed the way she always did when she was pleasured and without any hint of patience started thrusting her hips up, rubbing herself against his fingers.

He felt her thighs clench almost painfully around him and her tummy tighten, wet with sweat.

“More,” she pleaded, “can you give me more?”

“I thought you were tired,” he smirked, licking a path down her jaw. “The sun’s coming up… Aren’t you hungry?”

“Just give me a little,” she sighed. Her hips shifted as she tried to get her legs out from between highs and spread them. “Please?”

He couldn’t help but smile and kiss her lips. When she was bold and confident at work, he liked that too, but these fragile, soft moments when she was being a bit bratty, like the needy girlfriend he never had in his youth, satisfied something deep inside Tom that he was almost afraid to recognise.

He entered her slowly, shushing her whimpering and whining. She was incredibly even softer than before. Her folds were bruised and hot, her hole a swollen mess that gave in to him easily, and the dampness around her curls licked filthily along his cock as he eased it into her. She struggled a bit, aches shooting into her that gave Tom pause and made him want to stop, and then he went a little further. Mindful of the sheets he gripped the back of her knee and brought it up, pressing it against his chest to open her to him. She arched her back and shivered, whole body stilling at the pleasure. His cock reached that place deep inside that made her moan, made her feel wanted and desired, drove her to the brink of pleasure every time he touched it. Tom kissed her neck as he held her body, keeping her still for him to take. She was too weak to move much anyway and soon submitted to the battering of his hips. From underneath the duvet came the muffled, sticky, lapping sounds of his sac plopping damp and heavy on her folds.

“Toooom…” she whined, arching her back until her chest rubbed against his.

“I know,” he whispered, biting his lip to hold back a humiliating moan. His thrusts turned gentler, more deliberate, with an angle fit to tease her clit at every inward thrust. “I know, my darling… Is that good? Hmm?”

She buried a warbled sound into his neck, holding tightly onto him. His every thrust shifted her body on the bed.

“Let it happen,” he whispered, his voice already shaking.

“I… oh… oh!”

“That’s it…”

He kissed her neck to feel her moans against his lips, nipping now and then on top of last night’s bruises. He stopped when he could almost taste her blood and lifted his head to look at her again. From behind the curtain of his ruffled hair, his dark eyes smouldered. She looked so vulnerable, so lost, completely different from the girl of a few moments ago who teased him.

“Got what you wanted, didn’t you?” he grinned.

“N-not yet,” she said with a crazed little giggle.

“Is that so?” Tom smirked, and instinctively his hand around her thigh tightened.

She whined and curled her nails into his skin, scraping across the little wounds she’d left the night before. Tom loved it when she did that. It made him feel alive.

“Come on, then,” he whispered as he thrust a little faster, hips snapping so hard he was sure he’d leave bruises. “Take it… Let yourself go for me…”

His cock was throbbing, skin damp with sweat, stinging with the overstimulation where it rubbed against her own, but he held himself back until he felt her break. And she did, her torso snapping in the grip of sudden pleasure that made her arch her back, eyes closed, lips free to moan while her channel closed around him. She tried to close her legs, the one bent up to her chest pressing against him, but he held her even harder and forced her to take his cock.

“Ahhh…! Tom! Tom!”

He kissed her, peppering her cheeks and chin while his chest swelled with pride. He had done that to her… He had made her lose her mind with just a few words and some measured thrusts. In a way, it meant more to him than his own pleasure, that warm and soothing liquid light that flowed into the hollow where his pride should be. Tom couldn’t help but wonder how she would react if he could use the full range of his potential on her. He hadn’t often used magic on his romantic targets but she was so sensitive, so responsive, and so insatiable that his mind rushed with ideas. For a brief moment, he considered doing just that and then Obliviating her.

Too risky even for you, he thought.

He untangled his fingers from her hair to reach down and twist her nipples playfully, riding the last waves of her release. She wailed plaintively, begging him to stop, and her panting breath tickled his chin. Tom eased his thrusts to let her orgasm ease away and rested his palm on the centre of her chest to feel her heartbeat. Her breath fanned harder before it relaxed, and he waited patiently for it. His cock was so hard it ached and he had to squeeze his hand around her thigh to gain control, but feeling her soft skin beneath him had the opposite effect.

“Pleased now, my love?”

“Y-yes,” she said, looking at him dreamily. “It was so good… so good…”

His hand turned gentle at her breasts, kneading her flesh softly in his sweaty palm while he leaned to kiss her. She squirmed beneath him and giggled naughtily. Her grip over his shoulder tightened with intent as did her leg that was curled over his and Tom could tell that this time it was only for his pleasure. His heart clenched. With the auction fast approaching this was probably among the last times they could be together. He keenly felt the loss even through the lens of its anticipation and that gave an urgency to the act. He held on tightly to her, swallowed back his moans, and pretended the moment could last forever.

“Let go, Tom,” he heard her whisper, repeating his words back to him in that playful sultry way she did when she felt in control. “I love the way it feels when you do…”

He growled, unused to such sweet praise. His hips thrust into her at a sharp angle, wet sounds accompanying every meeting of their flesh. From behind his closed eyes, he felt the sting of something… It must have been the sweat that matted his hair.

“Tom,” she whispered, sweet and full of longing. “Tom… Let me feel it… I want it…”

And then the minx slid a hand between them, down toward his cock, and cupped his sac in her palm from underneath him. She held him gently, playing with the swollen balls that churned with lust for her. Tom bit her shoulder to hide his needy moan as his legs began to shake. He felt so close, so perilously close to falling even as his body soared. He heard through his dizzy and intoxicated mind her whispers, all of them painfully sweet and more than he deserved but meant for him, only for him. His cock twitched and he could tell she felt it. Her soft hand squeezed him a little tighter, milking it out of him, lips brushing against his cheek, back arching… He wanted to live forever just to feel more of this.

A dangerous heat licked up his thighs, beneath his stomach, pooling in his loins and threatening to spill. Tom opened his eyes, her face waiting right beneath him with a sweet half-bitten smile. He wanted to kiss her, wanted to sink into her body, and finally be at home.

“Oh fuck! Oh fu— Ahhh!”

His body clenched and froze and the familiar rush ran through him as he came inside of her. He could see nothing, hear nothing, but an echo of his breathy moans caught up to him from far away. His sac twitched in her gentle hand, cock throbbing, pulsing with each spill. Beneath him, she was quiet, soft, and trapped in something of the same pleasure he was. When finally he opened his eyes, his heart trilling in the waning waves of ecstasy, he found her gaze waiting there for him, lips parted in fascination, as his were, and smiling.

He was ready to collapse but he couldn’t look away from her. Breathlessly a childish giggle grew between them as if a playful pixie cast a spell, and just as his body had felt shattered by his orgasm it was put together all anew.

“I’ll be filthy for weeks because of you,” she grinned.

Tom smiled and brushed the hair off of her forehead. “I hope so.”

With him still inside her, he leaned down for a kiss. She closed her eyes and kissed him back, a lazy hand curling in his hair. She tasted sweet and warm and like everything he ever wanted. It hurt his softening cock to feel her channel close around him, over-sensitised and plump, but as she relaxed beneath him he could think of no better place to come to rest. Morning light filled the room around them but in their little nest, eyes closed in a long, dreamy kiss, nothing else existed.

Until something did. A shrill ringing filled the room and they both tensed. The telephone was ringing.

“Don’t answer,” he said.

But it was too late. He could tell her attention was no longer on him. And that infernal ringing wouldn’t stop. Her grasp around him loosened, going now to his waist, his shoulders, trying to gently push him off.

“But what if it’s —”

“Don’t.”

“Tom…”

He sighed and heaved himself off her, rolling onto his back. She whimpered at the wet feeling of him coming out of her but it didn’t stop her rushing to the phone. The ceiling was high above him, grey and streaked with shadows from the chandelier. The rest of the room was blissfully out of sight — but not for long. She turned a lamp on before curling on the armchair, her thighs as tight as possible.

“Yes? Oh, hello mother!”

Tom groaned and curled on his side. From the corner of his eye, he could just about see her. The sight of her sweaty and contorted body, with her hair all messy and a pattern of bitemarks on her neck, still wasn’t enough to soothe him — or was it? She was shivering, hugging herself tightly and letting her hair fall loosely on her shoulders. He could only see a hint of her breasts and her naked legs, her arms, fingers trailing absentmindedly along the curve of her waist… She looked at Tom with an apology in her eyes and a strained grimace for a smile.

“Ah, and where did you go? Was it nice? Oh, father was there too? I’m sorry.”

Her mother had seen fit to regale her about some recent social outing, listing her various accomplishments as if mere words could fill her bottomless black ego. That, or she was using it as an opportunity to spill whatever bile had piled up inside her. It was a weekly occurrence. Tom had gathered over time that their family had money. Whoever they were, they seemed not too different from the Riddles…

“Of course, you can tell me what they played. Yes, I’m listening… Of course I care,” she rolled her eyes.

It was obvious she wasn’t coming back anytime soon. These conversations ran for at least half an hour. Tom sighed and turned onto his front, soothed only by the scent of her pillows.

#Tom Riddle #Tom Riddle x reader #Tom Riddle x OC #Tom Riddle fanfiction #Tom Riddle smut #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #sswallow;fanfics #sswallow;made a thing #fanfic;englishclient #I had a lot of fun writing this chapter

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halles-notebook · 5 months

Note

hi i am new at asks but I was wondering if you could do a FLUFF Mattheo Riddle x reader were they go camping and decide to go on a hike bit get lost or separated from each other and they somehow get reunited? And can you plz tag me on it? Thank you for reading and considering this!

muggle activities gone wrong

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

pairing: mattheo x muggleborn!fem!reader

warnings: panicky mattheo, tiny injuries, tad bit of angst, and i think that’s it?? :)

a/n: thank you so much for being my first ask!! this was such a cute request and i hope it meets your expectations🤍

convincing your boyfriend, mattheo, to go on a muggle camping trip with you wasn’t easy. he, being raised around magic, was wary of the idea of cutting ties with the thing he was reliant on for the entire weekend.

over the course of the week, you chipped away at his worries bit by bit until he finally relented. you were majorly regretting that decision right now. he would never go on a camping trip again after this.

it started out amazingly. the two of you borrowed your parents car and drove down to the sight, (mostly you because he doesn’t have a license), and attempted to put the tent together to the best of your abilities.

you showed him how to roast a marshmallow and taught him your favorite board games before you both retired to your sleeping bags, cuddling together for warmth. it started going south earlier this morning, when you both decided that a hiking trail sounded like a good idea.

how wrong you were. it started out fun, taking polaroids of each other at pretty landmarks and seeing nature from a new perspective. however, it all went wrong when you saw the prettiest tree in the distance with budding purple and pink flowers for leaves.

you started heading towards it while mattheo was at a nearby water fountain on the edge of the trail, thinking he would figure you went to go see it. you were wrong. you waited by the tree in excitement, wanting to take a picture together, but after a couple minutes, you started to get worried.

you headed back to your previous spot, your boyfriend nowhere to be found. that was an hour ago, and he was still nowhere to be found. did he go off the trail? did he think you went a different way and started going backwards? is he okay?

worries filled your mind as you pushed your way through bushes, searching all over for the curly haired boy. tiny scratches littered your arms from sharp thorns, a small amount of dry blood surrounding them.

the sun was high in the sky, the heat scorching your skin to the point you were certain you’d have a nasty sunburn despite the sunscreen you applied earlier.

how far away could he be? it wasn’t a necessarily dangerous trail, unless he went off the path. he wouldn’t do that though, right? your voice was sore from yelling his name in hopes he might hear and your mouth was dry from dehydration.

you made the decision that you would keep searching for another thirty minutes, and if you couldn’t find him you’d go get people for help. “mattheo!” you yelled into the otherwise quiet atmosphere, praying by any chance he was nearby and heard.

a distant call made you immediately alert, eyes widening in relief that you might’ve finally found him. “mattheo!” you shouted again, louder this time as you hastily made your way to the direction of the voice.

you pushed through more bushes to make your way to him, ignoring the sting of thorns against your bare arms. the calls got louder and clearer the closer you got, confirming the fact that it was definitely your boyfriend.

“oh my god!” you shrieked, stumbling into his arms when you reunited. “do you know how worried i was? i was about to go get help!” you clung to him, a sigh of relief escaping your mouth.

“do you know how worried i was? i came back and you were gone, where the hell did you go?” he retaliated, stepping back and examining you with concerned eyes. “why are you bleeding?”

“i went to go see the tree up ahead! i thought we could get a picture there but after a few minutes i went back to get you and you weren’t there. and i just got pricked by some thorns, i’m fine.” mattheos jaw clenched, the worry in his eyes dimming the slightest bit.

“i take it you won’t go camping ever again after this?” you teased, attempting to brighten to mood. he rolled his eyes, but the quirk of his lip gave away his amusement.

“never again.” he repeated, trying to look serious but failing. you could read him like a book, even if it took quite awhile to reach this point. “let’s go.” he took your hand in his, starting forward with you trying to match his pace. “where are we going?”

“back to the tent to disinfect your arms.” you wisely decided to not fight him on it, allowing him to lead you back to the tent. if you guys got a tad lost on the way, it wasn’t your fault! you made it back safely, anyways.

as he now sat in front of you with a bottle of rubbing alcohol and a concentrated look, his brow furrowed as worked, you didn’t care about the failed camping trip. all you cared about was him.

#slytherin boys #mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle x you #oneshot #mattheo riddle blurb #fanfic #harry potter #blurb

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kyndredravenstories · 12 days

Text

Eyes of Infinity: Chapter 13

Hello, I have been posting my work on AO3 and recently decided to venture here to Tumblr. Please note: This story is 18+. No minors. Please read tags carefully. Link to AO3 below but I will also be posting the chapters here.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/53564641/chapters/150383332

Pairing: Sylus/Female MC with some elements of Xavier/Female MC

Genre: Romance, Drama, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Angst, Adventure, Smut, Porn with Big Plot and Big Feelings

Content Warning (For the entire fic): Explicit sexual content, spoilers and alterations to existing lore and cards/memories/tender moments/secret times, size kink, size difference, vaginal sex, cunnilingus, anal sex, fingering, all kinds of fingering, elements of consensual somno, dom!Sylus, jealousy, possessive!Sylus, Mephisto stalking, typical game violence, battle and combat

Summary: To love him meant stepping over the threshold and crossing into darkness. To be with him meant accepting the lure of the shadows. And to protect him from betrayal meant sacrifice. I knew not how, only that I would not let time sever our paths ever again.

Previous Chapters: Ch 1 / Ch 2 / Ch 3 / Ch 4 / Ch 5 / Ch 6 / Ch 7 / Ch 8 / Ch 9 / Ch 10 / Ch 11 / Ch 12

Morning sunlight filters through the window in Ellara's room when Sylus's phone buzzes with a phone call from a familiar number. He notes the source but doesn't reach to answer. Instead, he shifts to wrap his arms around the woman in his embrace, nuzzling into her neck, breathing in her scent, and pressing a kiss against her cheek. She stirs, giving a contented sigh as she settles deeper into his arms. His body heats in response to her backside pressing against him, and he has to reign himself in to avoid waking her and continuing where they left off a few hours past at the break of dawn.

Best to let her sleep for now. Her Evol returned sometime in the night, and who knew how hard such a thing was on the body?

He trails a hand down her arm. Beneath his touch, her Evol reaches for him with ghostly fingers, mixing with his own. They meld like lovers, intertwined and interconnected as though they were always meant to be. It's beautiful. Like soft white fireflies. When he weaves his fingers with hers, the union of their Evols hums like a singular ethereal note between their skin. The sensation is like fire in his veins, a pulsing that unifies their heartbeats for a moment.

Too long suppressed, it yearns to be set free, to bond with him, to Resonate.

Or, to Devour.

That's the other side of this light - one its owner has no knowledge of. If only Ellara knew how to wield it, he could feel more at ease. The night at the Mythe wouldn't have been such a traumatic experience. All she would have needed to do was come into his arms and take as much as him as she wanted. Standing beside him, she could have swept away all those in her path. She could have kept the LUMINIS from spilling on her skin. And, if needed, she could have healed all her wounds.

She was his to protect, and he'd been built to have plenty of Evol to spare for his counterpart.

Cliché, really.

Light and darkness.

Always yearning for each other yet always opposing.

But, it's not the first time he'd defied fate to get his way, and it won't be the last.

He doesn't think on it too much. What's the use in fretting over what-if's and maybe's? Right now, in this moment, she is real and here, with him. The second half of his heart that went missing eons ago. At least, that's how it feels at times. Though his body aches for her, Sylus tries to settle for just laying beside her. He runs a fingertip against her cheek. She sighs, but doesn't wake. He'll be surprised if she does.

Things had gotten pretty wild last night, and he'd definitely pushed her well past her limits. Stroking her arm, shoulder, and back with feathery touches, he wrestles with a conundrum of simultaneous regret and satisfaction. Her skin is covered in marks attesting to their lovemaking, and he can't be sure why he regrets being so rough with her when those marks look like they're right where they belong. They're his, after all. Had they been inflicted by anyone or anything else --

His phone buzzes for the second time. Same number. There's only two people who would dare call him twice in such a short span of time. Regrettable, but it's likely something urgent. Letting out a weary sigh, Sylus takes in the sight before him one last time. The flimsy curtains on her window allow daylight to fill the room without hindrance. He despises the warmth and cheer of sunrise, but somehow seeing her lying here, her skin and onyx hair gleaming in the soft oranges and reds of a new day, makes the morning bearable. Almost pleasant.

He shifts off the bed, moving carefully so he doesn't wake her. Snagging a towel from one of her shelves, he grabs his phone and leaves the room to go to the bathroom. After closing the door, he takes a quick shower, wraps the towel around his waist, then leans against the wall to redial the number. Two familiar voices answer. It's the twins.

"Boss, calling in to report."

"Did you lose your phone again, Luke?" Sylus asks.

"We were being tracked. Had to destroy it," Kieran answers.

"And the target?"

Luke replies. "Boss, you need to see the photos we took. Sending them now."

Sylus's phone pings as the files come through. He examines them one by one, his brow furrowing. His heartbeat remains steady, his expression still calm. Outwardly and inwardly, he stays the course of neutrality. But, something unfamiliar tugs at his awareness. A thorn in his thoughts, itching and scratching. It's something that started the night of the Mythe explosions and hasn't stopped since. Many have risen up to challenge his rule in the N109 Zone, yet none had truly challenged him. Looking at these photos, however, makes him wonder if that time is approaching.

His worst case scenario theory about Malakai Noxis had been right on target. He's not just some upstart after all. Though Noxis isn't nearly as powerful as Sylus in terms of Evol and influence, he's a damn nuisance when it comes to resourcefulness and cunning. Swiping through the last of the photos, he downloads them to his phone for later examination. Several pieces of the puzzle fall into place like rocks in his gut, and the picture they reveal is grim.

"He's done it again, Boss-man, just like you said he would," Luke says, his voice full of pride and admiration. His fearless bloodhounds. He could send them into a pit of fire and they'd gladly go.

"You did well," Sylus says, giving his most loyal men a rare compliment. "Stay on him. Be ready. This attempt will leave him weakened for a time." He glances at the watch on his wrist. Too early. He'll chase Noxis during the day if he must, but for now he can leave the twins to handle him while the sun is out.

"Yes, Boss."

He stands still for some time, considering his plans and options. His right hand rubs at his temple. It's never been more clear that Ellara cannot continue to stay in Linkon. This conflict has gone past the boundaries of the N109, and it's about to spill over into this shiny little city of glass. Linkon's people and its structures are as fragile as its principles. It's yet unclear what the end game is for Malakai, but a contingency plan must be made to safeguard Ellara's life. If Sylus has his way, the adopted siblings will never meet again.

Hopefully, her memory of Malakai's true identity will never return. Let her heart be at peace remembering the illusion Malakai showed her all those years while he was by her side. Not as a monster, but as someone she could love and lean on. To ensure that, nothing must jog that memory. Nothing can trigger it. But, hiding her away is just a prison sentence to a woman like Ellara. She must be free to do as she will, and she feels the most freedom when she can be the incredible Hunter she has trained to become.

The thought solidifies his decision.

He makes another call, and a grizzled old voice answers. A man.

"I thought I told you never to call here again," the voice sneers.

"Your threats and orders mean nothing to me," Sylus answers. "I don't have time to discuss semantics. I'm calling in a favor. You owe me plenty, and it's time to start collecting."

"You can't reach me out here," he voice hisses. "You're useless outside N109."

"Alright," Sylus smiles. "What do you want to bet against that delusion of yours? Your wife? Your son? Maybe the whole family."

"You monster. You would--"

"Don't ask questions you already know the answers to," Sylus drawls. "If you make me waste any more time, I'll be more aggressive in my collection of your debt."

The voice cusses him out with a few colorful words, but settles down. "What do you want?"

"Nothing too strenuous. I need you to transfer a few Hunters on assignment to another city. I'm sending you the list of names now."

"We're short here as is," the voice complains. The ping ping ping of a tablet touch screen being manipulated. More expletives. "These are some of my best, and you want me to send them away?"

"Not my problem. Put in the transfer now."

The line goes quiet for a few minutes. More pings. When the voice comes back, it sounds tired and defeated. "God damn you, Sylus. One day, you'll pay for all you've done."

"I don't make deals I can't uphold," Sylus replies, pushing the button to end the call.

That done, he makes his way back to the bed. He hasn't slept in a few days, and the edges of his vision are starting to fog. He lays down beside Ellara, examining her sleeping face. It's time to take a rest. Perhaps he could truly shut his eyes for once knowing the twins are following Malakai. Not for long. Just a few hours.

Just for a short while.

I wake up feeling warm and comfortable.

It doesn't take more than a second to realize that I'm not alone in my bed.

I'm laying in the crook of a man's arm.

I look up, shocked to see that Sylus is sleeping. Beneath my head, his chest is rising and falling steadily, and his heart is beating at a lazy cadence as always. I'm scared to move, worried that I'll break this incredible moment. I've never really seen Sylus asleep. He's always sitting up or leaning against something, even in bed. Always wary and alert even while secure in his home in N109. Then again, I suppose there is never any security for a man like him. The King must be ever vigilant if he is to keep his place and rule over the Underworld.

That's why the scene I'm witness to is so...captivating. Seeing him close his eyes and show me this kind of vulnerability is surreal. How can he trust me to this extent? Sure, we've admitted to having some feelings for each other. But, crimes of passion are a thing. Isn't he worried I might try to hurt him? That I might be deceiving him?

I'd sooner hurt myself.

I check that line of thought.

Man, I'm in over my head with this guy. It's not just the crazy sex, either. It's all of him. If I try to piece together the trail of how I'd fallen this hard, I couldn't. It's an endless reel of flashbacks to moments just like this where he did something that stole my breath away. His gestures, the way he holds my hand, the way he looks at me, the way he has me wrapped around his finger yet never ever encroaches on my freedom or my independence. The way his long eyelashes brush against his cheekbones. How kissable his mouth is.

He smells like my body wash, and there's something really intimate about it. He must have showered while I was sleeping. How he fit his big burly frame in my tiny rabbit hutch of a shower is a mystery instantly solved with flashbacks of how we were both squished in there last night. The thought makes my knees tingle. I run my hand down his bare chest and abs. His skin is light and pale with blue veins accenting an array of battle-hardened muscle. Smooth and hairless except for a faint trail of starlit silky hair leading down to a place I am way too embarrassed to think about right now. My face heats up.

I rise up on my elbow, noting that it's late morning. I should really get up and get the day started. Look at my phone. Report in. But, I'm out of sorts. Discombobulated like an Otto with a damaged AI module. I can't think of anything except the man in front of me. My former workaholic life seems especially far away, like a daydream. Not to mention, I can't explain anything about what happened at the Destiny Café. I'm dreading the missed calls I'll find on my phone, either from UNICORNS or from Xavier. They'll undoubtedly have questions, but I don't have any answers.

I check in with my memories from last night. Something is definitely off. I remember being at my apartment and reading, thinking about my impending meeting with Malakai. After that, everything is a giant gaping black hole until the moment when I stood outside the burning café with Sylus. I remember feeling dazed and confused; I'd thought at the time I might have been in shock. I figured it would wear off, but it hasn't. It worries me that I still don't remember anything.

Did something happen to me inside that café that could have affected my memory? Was Sylus a witness to it? If so, why hasn't he brought it up?

Well, I guess we were busy with other things...

Too antsy to lay still now, I slowly untangle myself from his arms and scoot to the edge of the bed. I'm naked, a fact I remedy as swiftly as possible as I dash to the bathroom for a quick shower. When I'm facing the mirror and washed out lights, I grimace at the sight of my body. I bruise easily; I always have. But, the amount of marks on my skin astounds me. My neck, my shoulders, a few places on my stomach, and - oh god - was did he do to my thigh to make that mark?

Nothing hurts though. No stinging or anything. No soreness except for my lower back, but the way we went at it that's no surprise. Not to mention, I've never been with a guy so...well endowed.

"Ugh," I groan, embarrassed. I try to remember if any of this hurt last night or this morning, but all I can recall is the incredible pleasure I felt and how gentle and thoughtful Sylus was. He's the most perceptive and attentive lover I've ever had, though to be honest my experience isn't much to speak of. Again, I find myself wondering if I could ever handle him when he's not holding back. Judging by the state of my skin, I'm not so sure.

Not now, Ellara. Focus.

I shower quickly and efficiently. The memories I've recently made in this cabin are too much for my sensibilities to handle. I don't know whether I did the right thing by inviting Sylus up last night or not. Part of me feels like I didn't have much choice. I'd wanted him so badly, and no amount of good sense or pride could have stopped me. He's Pandora's Box, and I've only scratched the surface. There's definitely more to him, and I want to see it.

I wrap a towel around my body and carefully sneak out of the bathroom, knowing how light of a sleeper Sylus is. Afterwards I seek out my phone, still in the back pocket of the pants I'd discarded last night. My throat goes tight at those particular memories. I can't help but rush to cover my face with my hands, barely suppressing a sound of pure mortification. Hopefully these flashbacks subsist soon or I won't be able to function today. I'm still doing the walk of shame as I tip toe to my closet to throw on a bathrobe.

Taking a breath, I check my phone and flinch. Missed calls from the Captain, Xavier, even Tara. Running my hand through my hair, I pad to the kitchen and sit at the breakfast table to make some calls while sipping on orange juice. I start with Tara since she's the least threatening in the mix. We talk briefly about what happened last night, but she's primarily focused on inviting me over for a girls night. Her recovery is progressing well, and she's ready to get back into her normal routine. I'm relieved to hear that my friend is alright.

Next is the Captain. I'm interrogated for a good forty-five minutes on this call. The end result is less than pleasant. Jenna is relieved to hear that my Evol has returned but recommends that I take a week off for my mental health. It's clear that I'm a target for Noxis, and she needs time to arrange a new assignment schedule for me. Despite my protests, she wants to temporarily transfer me to work in another city. Knowing Xavier and how protective he is of his partner, she also wants to add him to that assignment.

As it happens, there's currently urgent need for Hunters in Goldwood City. I look up the location on my phone, noting that it's closer to the N109 Zone than Linkon. It's a smaller city; not as developed as here. More rural areas with mountainous regions. Not as many training facilities and not nearly as big a budget for the local Hunters. A sudden outbreak of Wanderers has necessitated the establishment of a quarantine zone. Within a week, the zone will be established and most citizens evacuated to allow Hunters to subdue the threat.

I scratch my head. Well, at least it will keep me busy. I was itching to get back into the swing of things, wasn't I? So why do I feel so dejected as I accept the assignment? Though I try to protest against the additional week off, Jenna is firm, telling me that if I keep arguing with her she'll recommend that I start going to therapy on top of my medical leave. In less than two months, I'd been in several traumatic situations, lost my Evol, miraculously recovered, and now am the target of a major criminal organization. The fact that I haven't had a mental breakdown yet is unbelievable, she says. If only she knew that I had an incredible support network in Xavier and Sylus.

As crazy as that last part sounds.

"There are rumors, Fireborne, that you're in a relationship."

The question comes out of nowhere. I almost choke on my glass of juice.

"E-Excuse me?" I cough.

"Is it something I need to be concerned about?" Jenna asks. Her tone has softened considerably.

"Why would something like that be of concern?" I frown.

She sighs. "It's tough being a woman in this field, Ellara." It's the first time she's called me by my name. "Men can get married, have families, and keep fighting if they so choose. But, a woman has so many more responsibilities and duties. Once we have a child, we no longer just belong to ourselves."

Children? Marriage? My brain short circuits. I rush to stop her. "Please, Captain. Hang on. There's absolutely no reason to think in that direction." I leave it there, unwilling to divulge any more of my personal life.

"I'm sorry if I've overstepped in this case. There was some hearsay, and the way Xavier defended you when you went on medical leave..."

My cheeks grow hot. "Y-You thought...with Xavier?" I'm relieved yet somehow still embarassed. "Oh. No. Not at all. Xavier and I are absolutely only partners. That's it."

"It's hard to believe a partner would look at you like he does," she observes.

I shake my head. "I assure you, Captain, we are only friends."

"I see. Again, apologies if I've overstepped. I just see myself in you, Ellara, and I want to help. You know I care for my team. I have some regrets about never taking time to connect with someone. I hope you can consider that advice. Even if you do find that for yourself, you are going to grow stronger and make it far in our organization. Keep up the excellent work."

"Thank you, Captain."

When I hang up the call, I drop my head over my folded arms on the table. I give a monstrous groan like a blaster rifle venting steam. Did Captain Jenna just try to give me advice on relationships? Despite my initial shock, I actually do appreciate that she cares enough to show me such a different side to her character. Though I do wonder how far her opinion of me would fall if she knew that I already was in love with someone - the leader of Onychinus to be more precise.

Oh Lord.

After a few more deep breaths, I pick up my phone and find Xavier's contact. I don't know why I'm so nervous about this call. It's just as I told Jenna. He's my partner. Just a friend. So then why have things been so impossibly awkward between us since he first brought me back from N109? Why did I feel like I was committing some kind of crime when I told him I wasn't alone over the phone last night? While I'm stewing in angst and emotions, a text comes through and lights up my screen. It's none other than the object of my thoughts. I tap to open the message.

X: Heard about the transfr. Miss U. Will B home tonight.

I read it again. Then again. Suddenly, I'm doubting my sanity. This message doesn't sound like something you would send to a friend.

"My Knight", Sylus had called him.

Mine.

Why would he say it that way? Sure, Sylus likes to play on words at times. But, he's the most perceptive man I know. Has he picked up on something that I hadn't even considered? The thought is like a stake to the chest. Winded, I frantically begin reading through our message history with fresh eyes unclouded by the banalities of day to day survival. What I find is so disturbing that I don't know how to react to it.

All this time, I was under the impression that Xavier and just had a kind of natural platonic intimacy. We held hands and hugged. We spent a lot of time together. We ate dinner and slept over at each other's apartments. We went to the arcade and played games together. Yet, somehow, there was something growing between us that I had completely failed to pick up on. What started as a friendship had evolved over time into something a lot more intimate without me realizing it. Xavier led in his own graceful silent way, and I had followed without a second thought.

My sudden panic gives me a strange kind of courage. I dial Xavier's number, my heart pounding in my chest. He answers after a few dial tones.

"Ellie? Is everything alright?"

I'm not at all prepared for the way I react to that new nickname. I struggle to answer without stuttering.

"Yes...Xavier...I need to ask you something..."

A beat, then -- "Ask away."

"Look, maybe there's something wrong with me. Maybe I hit my head last night and I'm confused. The Captain just called and asked me some stuff, and it got me thinking in a really weird direction. I just need to know that I'm not crazy."

"You can ask me anything you want," he says. I stop. Take a breath. There's definitely affection in his voice. My god, why hadn't I realized it sooner? Maybe it's because he's Xavier - the Xavier. The strongest Hunter. Unbelievably handsome. A star way out of reach for an ordinary little bookworm like me.

"We're friends right? And friends should always be honest with each other." I wring my hands together. "All this time, I've always had a firm understanding of our relationship. We're partners and friends. That's it." I'm biting my lip now, and I can feel myself starting to sweat. "But, after this talk with Jenna, I feel like I might go crazy unless I just talk to you and ask. I've never thought of us in any other way, and if I make you uncomfortable--"

"You're not crazy," he says, his voice going soft.

My mind blanks out.

"What?"

Silence on the other of the line. With each second that passes, I sweat more and more. "Ellie, I don't want to talk about this over the phone. Can you wait until I come back tonight? There is something I should have told you a long time ago. I just didn't want to put pressure on you."

Oh. My. God.

That sounds like a damn confession.

Wait. Hold the phone. I'm not ready to have this discussion. Not in the least. Not when I have a naked man in my bed this very minute whom I've confessed my feelings for already.

"A-Alright," I answer, though nothing is alright at all. "But, Xavier...I don't know if I..."

"Don't think that far ahead. Just meet me tonight so I can say my piece." He stops for a moment. "Can you do that?"

"Yes. I will."

We end the call, and I sit in my chair feeling completely lost. I pull on the ends of my hair, rub the bridge of my nose, eat a whole box of strawberry Pocky from the stress. What am I supposed to do? I care for Xavier. That part is undeniable. He's an essential part of my life. He's my friend. My partner. But, he's also a little more, too. I just don't know how to identify what that "little more" is right now. With where I am right now, do I even try?

I stand up and walk to the bedroom. My breath catches when I see Sylus still laying in the same position I'd left him in. The way the sun caresses his muscular torso makes me swallow hard. All other thoughts completely vacate my head, all of my focus honing in on my gorgeous bed mate. I walk the rest of the way to his side as though possessed. Like I'm in a trance, I sit on the edge of the bed right beside him and lean down to touch his silky hair. I'm afraid to breathe, afraid to shatter this just like I was earlier.

In fact, that's how I feel about this whole thing between Sylus and I. This thing we've labeled as love but have failed to categorize in any other way. It's new, and amazing, and still so delicate. It's too good to be real. It's as stunning and beautiful as stained glass, yet the slightest malignant wind could break it. Sure, I could walk away from it now. I could try. But, something tells me that I would always come back. From the moment I met him, this man felt like destiny embodied. A comet streaking through the night sky destined to collide with my world and make a complete mess of it.

One moment, I'm reaching for him.

Something yanks on my arm.

The next second, Sylus's red eyes are all I see as I'm flipped over onto my back on the mattress. I'm held in place by hands and Evol, and I don't dare to move. I falter under his penetrating gaze and mumble an apology for waking him. For a moment, he doesn't react. I hold my breath against a rush of adrenaline. He may be my lover, but in this instant, he's pinning down a potential threat.

One moment.

Two.

Then his features soften, the aggression in his eyes melting into tired affection.

"You're lucky I'd know your footsteps anywhere," he murmurs, his voice husky from sleep. "Be careful sneaking up on me."

I nod. He doesn't need to explain. Right now, his Evol feels sharp, dangerous. His gaze is cold and wary. Of course he's always on high alert. This is Sylus of Onychinus. He just makes me lose sight of who he is so often that I forget myself around him. I still don't understand how he's able to compartmentalize his feelings and emotions the way he does. Maybe it's a skill he could teach me one day.

He doesn't give me a chance to apologize again. In another blink, he's laying on his side and pulling me up against him. With a sigh, he settles his chin against the top of my head; his large muscular arm wraps around my waist. It's so warm and wonderful. I'm absolutely trapped. Whatever I wanted to do today is probably not getting done after all, and I'm suddenly entirely OK with that. For propriety, though, I need to protest even a little.

"Sylus, I can't sleep now."

"You can," he assures me. "You hardly slept last night."

"I have to go to the armory at UNICORNS and update my weapons."

"Forget that junk. I'll have someone bring much better ones later," he practically waves me off.

"There's paperwork I need to turn in, too."

"Send it electronically. You can't tell me the Association doesn't have holo-mail."

"But, Sylus..."

"You're fussy this morning, kitten," he grumbles. I jerk when his lips brush my ear. "Since you've delivered yourself to me, don't think about leaving just yet. Stay here for a bit."

Well, shit. I can't resist when he puts it like that, can I? And why would I even want to? I let my body relax, wrapping my hand around his big forearm. "I really do have a lot to prepare...I need to train. They're forcing me to take a week off before sending me to Goldwood City on a temporary transfer."

He doesn't say anything to that. "You don't seem surprised," I add.

"They send Hunters where they're needed, right?"

"Yes, this isn't the first time I've left Linkon for missions like this."

"Well, then," he shifts against me. "As it happens, I also have some business to take care of. But, after that, come spend the rest of your week off with me."

"With you? Where?"

"I have a way to help you train and get into shape before your return to duty." There's a playful bit of sarcasm in his voice. Whatever he's planned isn't anything I can possibly predict, nor is it a way for me to just train. But, I'm too curious to turn him down.

"Alright, but can you answer me something about last night? My memory is still foggy..."

"Malakai was there," he replies without missing a beat. "You met with him. When I arrived, you had him on the ground injured and at gun point. He set off an explosive."

My hand tightens on his forearm. "That's why your shirt is in tatters. You protected me."

He makes a noncommittal noise, as though what he did was insignificant.

"Why were you there? Did Mephisto give you my message? Even if he did, you got there so fast."

"I was already in the neighborhood," he says. "As for why, well...didn't you ask me to come?"

I frown. "Did anyone find his body?" I take Sylus's silence as a 'no'. "Does that mean that Malakai is..."

"He escaped," Sylus finishes. "The twins are on his trail now. Once I locate him, he will deeply come to regret his actions."

But, will you kill him?

I don't ask the most prominent question on my mind. Sylus has never once hidden who he is from me. Nor have I ever deluded myself about the depth and darkness of his nature. To be the King, one must be ruthless. It's part of who he is and who he must be to stay at the top. I've never seen him act irrationally. Nor have I seen him murder any innocents. Perhaps that's a way for me to escape from the moral responsibility of loving a man like this. But, I don't care.

"We won't see each other for the next few days, then," I murmur.

"Mephisto will be with you," Sylus says. He sounds like he's drifting off again. "And if you should need me before our next meeting, all you have to do is call for me."

It's evening when I open my eyes again. I sit up and rub at my bleary eyes, noting that I'm incredibly thirsty. I must have been out for a few hours. I search for Sylus, but the bed is empty. The spot where he slept is cold, which means he left quite some time ago. I close my eyes against a pang of loneliness, but I don't let it slow me down. Checking my phone, I see a text message from an unknown number.

Don't forget to eat.

I add the number to my contacts, labeling it "Mephisto". After downing a few bottles of vitamin water to rehydrate, I throw on a hoodie and leggings in favor of the bath robe I'm wearing and head to the kitchen to grab something to eat. Somehow, when I open the fridge and see it well stocked with ready-made meal kits, I'm not surprised. I reach for the phone in my pocket and write a snarky message:

E: Looks like you raided a flash sale at a nearby convenience store. Was a private chef too expensive?

I laugh at my own words. Just imagining Sylus going to the grocery store is absurd. His reply pings a few minutes later as I'm unwrapping a chicken and rice bowl to put it in the oven.

M: I didn't want him to wake you. If you want, I'll arrange for one tomorrow.

As always, he calls my bluff. I rush to answer with a resounding "no thank you", knowing Sylus is definitely the type to go ahead and send a private chef to my ratty little apartment if I don't cover my bases.

E: Thank you for doing this. It will save me time this week.

M: Take better care of yourself. If you need anything, tell me.

My heart melts at that. I think about him nonstop the whole time I'm eating and washing dishes. Just as I'm wiping my hands with a washcloth, a knock at my door startles me out of my reverie. I pad over to my front door and open it without checking the viewing window.

Blue eyes, clear and true as the summer sky, meet mine. There stands Xavier, wearing a black uniform he's been donning quite often lately. He looks frazzled, something I'm not used to seeing at all. Instantly worried, I step forward.

"Xavier, are you OK? Did you just return from the mission?"

He nods.

"You should have gone home first. Rested."

"No," he cuts me off, his voice low. "I don't want to wait anymore."

"Alright," I answer, my shoulders and body tensing. I haven't exactly been looking forward to this conversation. "Well, at least come in. Sit down. Let me get you something warm to drink." His hair and shoulders are covered in little clumps of white snow. He must be soaked under that armor. He agrees to my offer, letting me lead him to the living room and equip him with a large towel for his head. While he's drying off, I make him some hot tea.

"Here," I say as I serve it to him on a small dessert plate with a box of chocolate Pocky on the side. "Though I still think you should go home and change. You'll catch a cold like this."

"I'll be fine," he counters.

Nervous, I sit down on the other side of the couch. "Xavier, before you say anything, please know that I don't feel ready for this conversation. I don't know how I would respond to--"

"I like you," he cuts in. "I've liked you for a very long time now." His perfect blue eyes stare right through me, confident and unwavering. He shifts toward me, and I shift backwards in response. But, there's nowhere to go. I've reached the armrest. Xavier stops moving when he sees my discomfort. He looks down.

"I waited too long," he says, his voice gravelly and full of regret. He reaches out for my hand. I hesitate, but I can't deny him this. Not when he looks so forlorn. My chest tight, I let him weave our fingers together. That "little bit more" I identified earlier squeezes around my heart like a thorny vine.

"Xavier, I...like Sylus." It comes out of my mouth before I can stop it, my lips stumbling on the word "love" and downgrading it. My mind is numb; my filter went flying the moment Xavier confessed to me. The words keep coming as though released from a dam. "I don't know when or how it happened, but I care about him a lot. I have no idea what we are or where this is going, but...I want to find out." My eyes sting. "I'm sorry. I'm really really sorry."

Using the hand that's holding mine, he pulls me into a tight hug. We stay that way for a while, my shoulders shaking, until he finally speaks again.

"I'll wait," he says past gritted teeth. His whole body is tense, like he's about to jump into battle. "I've waited this long, haven't I?"

I shake my head. "No, you can't do that. That's just--"

"I'll wait," he says again, more forcefully this time. I try to pull back, but he holds firm. "Give me a minute, please. I don't want you to see my expression right now."

A long time passes. Many thoughts fly through my head. At last, I come to a decision. It's one that's going to hurt, but I've never been so sure of anything. When he lets me pull back from him, I raise my chin and force myself to look deep into his eyes.

"Xavier, don't accept the transfer to Goldwood. Let me go alone. We can't be partners when there's this much unsettled between us."

His gaze darkens. "You're asking me to leave you alone again. Just like before."

I shake my head. "No. This isn't the same thing."

"You're my partner, Ellie."

The vine squeezes harder, and I bite my lip. "Yes, but...I can't keep hurting you."

"Give me your boundaries," he says. "Tell me what I have to do to make you more comfortable. I'll do whatever you ask. But, I won't leave you."

I lower my eyes, feeling defeated. "I need to think about all this. It's too much for me right now."

"Then forget we talked about it." He takes a breath. "There's still time before the transfer. Take that time to think. I'll stay out of it."

He stands up and heads for the front door. I can't stop him; don't have the right. Not when there's a chance I was inadvertently leading him on all this time. He's pulling away just like he always has in the past when it seemed like we grew too close. Before, I always chased him. Now, I have to give him space, too. It's only fair.

"Have a good night," he says as he shuts the door behind him. In the wake of him leaving, I'm still sitting on the couch. Still lost. Still hurting. There's only one thing I'm certain of, and it's that my feelings for Sylus aren't just some temporary crush. They're as real as these kind of things probably get, and that means that asking Xavier to wait for me is completely selfish. I need to communicate my stance better, but how can I do that when I really still have no idea where my relationship with Sylus stands?

In that moment, I make it my goal to have that discussion with Sylus during our time together. I can't put it off anymore. I need to know what we are to each other and where he sees all of this going.

It's a while before I stand up and clear off Xavier's untouched plate. I want to text him a reminder to get dry and warm, but I stop myself. Give him space. Right now, we both need time to think. I slide open my living room window, hoping that some fresh air will help clear my head. As though on cue, Mephisto flies inside with a cranky squawk and settles on my shoulder. I pet the top of his head, my eyes stinging.

"Sorry to make you wait, Your Majesty," I say through trembling lips. A tear slips past my self control. Mephisto's ruby red eyes take it in. For once, he's silent. "S-Sorry," I tell him, wiping a trail of snot off my nose. "Life just got super complicated, Mephy, and I have no idea how to deal with it."

#eyes of infinity delirium #love and deepspace #love and deepspace fanfic #sylus love and deepspace #sylus x mc #sylus/mc #sylusposting #sylus #lnds #lnds sylus

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theharrowing · 1 year

Text

One Day at a Time 🌙 1: I finally get to have you

Yoongi loves to help others. As a professional surrogate, he takes pride in using his body to help families bring life into this world, and love into their homes. But when his high school crush Kim Namjoon hires Yoongi to help him and his wife conceive, things get…precarious.

Or, Omega Yoongi gets bred by Alpha Namjoon and holy shit, does he fall in love.

🐺 Yoongi x Namjoon, established Namjoon x Wheein

🌙 word count: 19.9k

🌙 past acquaintances to lovers, a/b/o, mpreg, infidelity, angst, smut, eventual fluff, slash, nsfw, 21+

🌙 warnings: alpha/top Namjoon, omega/bottom Yoongi; Namjoon is married; Yoongi is a mess, and he cries a lot; a/b/o stuff (mating cycles, lots of scent stuff, wolf instincts, omega slick), angst (hormones raging, pining), a dash of ritualistic sex (it happens in the second act hehehe.)

🌙 note: hello, and welcome to my very first a/b/o fic! full notes on the index, but i wanted to thank @sailoryooons and @sweetestofchaos once more for all the help with this! reminder: infidelity is a big part of this fic, so if you’re not into that, you will not like this!!! take the warnings seriously!!! Yoongi is a mess but he's our mess and we love him. have fun!!!

🌙 written for one shot two shot fest

🌙 thanks to @neoneunnajimin & @sailoryooons for beta reading!

🌙 posted july 2023 | read on ao3

INDEX | NEXT

Yoongi never thought he would see Kim Namjoon again. Once he graduated from high school and the two of them went their separate ways – Yoongi to college in the countryside and Namjoon to marry the rich, pretty valedictorian – he hadn't expected their paths to cross. They had not, in fact, for nearly ten years.

The only time Namjoon ever fully acknowledged Yoongi was all those years ago in school, the week Yoongi first presented as omega. The news was a shock for everyone, most especially himself. Sure, Yoongi never saw himself as an alpha – preferring a softer, quieter life – rarely exhibiting dominant traits of any sort. But he anticipated the neutrality and normalcy of presenting as beta.

First were the hot flashes and overwhelming urge to bury himself in his softest, warmest cardigan. He hadn’t realized he was nuzzling his face into his sweater paws during math period until a classmate beside him asked a sharp, shrill, “What are you doing?” causing him to look up, confused and ashamed.

Yoongi had excused himself to the school nurse, worried he was coming down with some kind of fever, and he practically threw himself at her feet the moment a cramp radiated through his body, knocking him to his knees. He was certain he had food poisoning or some kind of stomach bug – what else could it have been? Certainly, he could not have been presenting as omega.

The nurse excused Yoongi from school through the duration of his first heat, which lasted about a week and a half. And the event itself was hell on earth, but nothing could have prepared him for returning to school. Somehow, everyone knew.

“A boy presenting as omega,” boys would say as they shoved Yoongi around, pushing him against lockers and towering over him like ravenous beasts. “That makes you worse than a girl.”

"He's pretty like a girl, though," one of the boys teased loudly.

“How does your dad feel?” they would ask in mocking tones – some of whom hadn’t yet presented, themselves. “Isn’t he ashamed of you?”

It was during lunch break that Namjoon – the tall, broad, handsome president of his class – came barreling around the corner and growled at those boys to get away from Yoongi.

“I had better not see any of you fucking whelps picking on him or any other omegas,” Namjoon roared, voice firm with authority with his chest puffed high, causing the bullies to scatter.

And although Yoongi had so much he wanted to say, when Namjoon asked if he was alright, all he could do in response was whimper a weak, “Uh-huh,” unable to find his words.

“I imagine this can’t be easy,” Namjoon finally said after a tense moment in the silent, fluorescent-lit hallway. “We can’t choose our circumstances, after all. But we can do our best with what we are given, one day at a time. Take care of yourself, Yoongi.”

And that was it; the only time his and Namjoon’s paths truly crossed. Yoongi would have been lying if he had said the event didn’t spark something inside him – the beginnings of a crush, perhaps – especially when he remembered the warm musk that wafted from the alpha with hints of sweet, kind tangerine and spicy, angry cinnamon.

But that was all it ever was…a crush. As soon as they graduated, Namjoon proposed to his girlfriend, and Yoongi left the city to pursue a life in nursing.

During the last few years, Yoongi has been working as a surrogate, assisting wealthy couples through their difficult times by lending his body to help conceive a child. Although it is always a bit awkward to be a presence in their homes, he enjoys the work. Yoongi likes to help others. The need to comfort and fix people is strong – overwhelming at times.

Naturally, when the call came to help one of the most affluent families in Seoul have a baby, Yoongi did not hesitate, nor did he know what to expect. He had, after all, left Seoul to live closer to his mom's small farmhouse near Daegu, and stopped worrying himself over who any of the wealthier families were.

So, on the car ride to town, when Yoongi read the names Kim Namjoon and Jung Wheein on the paperwork he almost did not believe his eyes. Surely, the Kim Namjoon and Jung Wheein he knew eight years ago could not be struggling with having a child. If anyone would have a happy, healthy, and typical family, he figures it would have been those two sweethearts.

“Earth to Yoongi,” a soft, stern voice calls, pulling Yoongi from his reverie.

Yoongi stands at the foot of the entrance of a rather impressive hanok on the outskirts of the city. He had spaced out during most of the ride, daydreaming about the only time he and Namjoon came face to face. Even now, standing at the man’s front door, he struggles to accept it, half expecting someone else to greet them.

“What does he do for a living?” Yoongi mutters under his breath as he joins his boss, a soft-spoken beta named Park Jimin, near the front door.

Jimin scoffs and shakes his head, causing his fluffy dark hair and shimmering silver earrings to wave back and forth from the motion, as he responds, “He’s the mayor, baby,” while placing a comforting hand on the small of Yoongi’s back – something he does when he expects Yoongi to overreact.

And overreact, he does.

“The may—“ Yoongi half-shouts before Jimin gently shushes him.

“But why—“ Yoongi continues, dropping his voice to a whisper, “—why didn’t you tell me? Jimin, why did you leave that detail out?”

“You know I love you because you’re the best, right?” Jimin asks, rubbing his palm over Yoongi’s back in circles, buttering him up before delivering the truth, as is his way.

“Right,” Yoongi responds slowly, nodding his head while his eyes lose focus on the cinnamon-brown wooden door before him.

“You’re sweet, caring, and very respectful,” Jimin continues, still very much not reaching the point. "Very discrete."

“Okay,” Yoongi huffs, “and?”

With a sigh, Jimin drops his voice lower and leans close, muttering, “I believe they asked for you specifically because you’re a man. They seem concerned about any of this reaching the media, so we have kept it all hush-hush, and I wonder if they do not want to be seen with a woman living in the house for the next year.”

“Oh.”

“The wife, she’s—“

“No, no, I get it,” Yoongi says, feeling a bit sullen.

Being chosen because he is a man is always a bit disheartening. Typically, as far as Yoongi can tell, it comes from the wife worrying that their husband may develop feelings for their surrogate, despite the process typically being a simple matter of collecting sperm and egg from each party and having them placed into Yoongi’s uterus using an in vitro process. At most, Yoongi has to stay in the homestead to carry the baby to term, sleeping with bedding that smells of the alpha of the house. Infidelity has never been an issue. In fact, most households treat Yoongi as if he hardly exists until the baby is finally born.

Yoongi performs his tasks dutifully and with the utmost care and respect, and for once, it would be nice to be recognized for his skills and abilities, and not for his gender. But, Yoongi grins and bears it. He is simply happy to be able to help.

“Ready?” Jimin asks, and Yoongi nods, feeling as ready as he could be, at this point.

Jimin removes his hand from Yoongi’s back, takes a step forward, and knocks on the door. And then they wait. A homestead this size must take a while to traverse through, and Yoongi crosses his hands over his tummy and twiddles his thumbs in anticipation, wondering if Namjoon will even recognize him.

When the door opens, a tall unfamiliar man with wide, curious eyes and short, somewhat wavy dark brown hair greets them with a bow of his head. For a split moment, Yoongi almost wonders if this could be Namjoon – if the names are merely coincidence. But then Wheein – the Jung Wheein Yoongi remembers from all those years ago, with long, dark hair and curious almond eyes – pops up from behind the man and smiles widely, waving them in.

Jimin enters first, then Yoongi, kicking off his sneakers and following as Wheein leads the mystery man, Jimin, and Yoongi through a foyer, past a kitchen, and into what looks like a study. The four of them take a seat on soft purple cushions around a large, low wooden table with a teapot and four cups in the center, with Wheein across from Yoongi and Jimin to his right.

“Min Yoongi,” Wheein beams as she sits high on her knees and reaches over the low table, emitting a calming bouquet of lavender.

Yoongi offers his hands to her, smiling as she takes them and squeezes them between both of hers. There is an unmissable sadness in her eyes, but she smiles widely as she pats his hands before letting them go.

“When I read your name on the list of potential surrogates, I just knew it had to be you,” she continues, taking Yoongi by surprise. He and Wheein have never, to his knowledge, said a word to one another.

“You did?” Yoongi asks, deep voice trembling slightly as he settles his hands over his knees.

Wheein nods enthusiastically while the man to Yoongi’s left begins to pour tea for the four of them.

“I just had a feeling. You went into nursing, right? You like to help others?”

With a demure nod, Yoongi says, “Yes,” surprised to find Wheein remembers him, and that she knows details of his life. He dreads the thought that Namjoon might, as well.

“I just knew you would be perfect for us,” she continues as her eyes travel to the man sitting at Yoongi’s left. “Don’t you think so, Jeonggukie?”

The man nods his head once, eyes fixed on Jimin as he mutters, “Yes, Wheein-ssi.”

“This is our in-house help, Jeon Jeongguk,” Wheein says, patting the hand of Jeongguk, who responds, “Lovely to meet you,” without taking his eyes off Jimin.

Yoongi mutters a greeting under his breath but does not bother trying to get the man’s attention; he is more than aware of the effect Jimin has on others. Instead, Yoongi picks up his small ceramic tea cup and holds it to his lips, blowing on it slightly before taking a sip. The faintly-earthy taste of herbs and leaves covers his tongue with warmth, instantly soothing at least some of his worries. Certainly not all of them.

“Sorry Namjoon couldn’t join us,” Wheein says with a hint of annoyance in her voice, cracking a smile that looks forced and does not reach far. Earthy, bitter hints of patchouli hang in the air as she chuckles under her breath as she mutters, “Gods forbid he leaves his precious office for one fucking meeting with our surrogate.”

Yoongi shifts on his knees and takes another sip from the cup. Meanwhile, everyone around him lifts their cups to drink, and he is relieved to see Jimin’s spell on Jeongguk seems at least temporarily be broken, allowing the three of them to have a conversation with Jeongguk present and quiet.

“I figure that for the first week, you’ll stay by my side and bond with me a little,” Wheein begins, surprising Yoongi with how suddenly she wants to get down to business, “and then we’ll knock you up and have you stay in a guesthouse that is scented like Namjoon so that the baby knows who his or her daddy is.”

“Pretty standard stuff,” Jimin mutters beside him, and Yoongi smiles as he nods along.

Wheein’s candor feels welcoming to Yoongi. The last two couples he worked with were rather depressed and embarrassed to need assistance with having a baby. It is his hope that, in the next ten or eleven months, he and Wheein can become close friends, making his stay in the large homestead a little less lonely.

"Do you remember Namjoon at all?" Wheein asks eagerly.

Yoongi glances over the teacup that he holds near his mouth, breathing in its comforting aroma, and he screws up his face just slightly enough to seem impassive as he shrugs and says, "The name sounds familiar. Perhaps when I see him, I will remember."

A lie, of course. If Yoongi thinks hard enough, he can remember precisely what Namjoon smelled like the day they spoke. He thinks, faintly, that Namjoon may have even had a mole or two on one of his cheeks, and has never forgotten his dimples.

"Do you need some time to consider the job, or would you like to move in tonight?” Wheein asks once the four of them have had a chance to discuss specifics a little more and finish the pot of tea. “We will want to go over a few specifications on the contract once everyone is here, but it should be pretty standard."

"I can move in right away," Yoongi says without giving it any thought. The sooner they get started, the sooner it can be all over with, he reasons. He already has a suitcase packed and waiting in the car.

"Wonderful," Wheein says as she stands and waits for Yoongi to do the same.

Once Yoongi is on his feet, Jimin bows and wishes him well, saying they will meet again tomorrow when Namjoon is around to go over the contract. Jeongguk leads Jimin back out to the front door, standing quite close and muttering quietly as the two of them leave the room together.

"I can't wait for the two of us to become best friends," Wheein says sweetly as Yoongi steps from the table and joins her at her side, allowing her to wrap an arm around his waist and pull him into a side hug.

The smile that creeps over Yoongi's lips is genuine, and he allows himself to be hugged, lifting an arm to delicately caress her back for just a moment. He familiarizes himself with her scent of lavender with hints of patchouli – sweet with an undercurrent of spice and wet soil.

Wheein leads Yoongi into a large kitchen and sits him at the tall white marble counter. Yoongi marvels at the blend of traditional and modern, with the general foundation of the hanok resembling what it may have centuries ago despite the marble counters and stainless steel appliances.

"Let's make a list of all the things you love to eat, especially when you are in heat and when you are pregnant."

Although Yoongi cannot imagine why he would need to accommodate a heat cycle, he rattles off everything he can think of, making sure bases are covered. There is a chance that his pregnancy cravings will be similar to those he gets while in heat, once they inject the little cub cells into his uterus and the growing begins.

He also makes note of some herbs that he needs to avoid in order to not counteract the heat-blockers he takes, and Wheein smiles to herself as she circles ginger, ginseng, and sage while adding three large exclamation marks next to the words to signify what he must avoid.

About an hour passes with Yoongi and Wheein chatting in the kitchen about food, being pregnant, and anything else Wheein thinks of. She is great company, offering Yoongi white wine and keeping his glass topped off as they talk. He feels hopeful about his stay in her house, looking forward to getting to know her more as she opens up.

And then Namjoon returns home, and things…shift. It is subtle, but noticeable. Wheein's voice quiets when the front door opens, and she keeps her eyes on the foyer once the sounds of shoes getting kicked off thuds one after the other.

"Someone here?" a deep, familiar voice calls, causing Yoongi's skin to break out in goosebumps, and Namjoon steps around a corner, stopping in his tracks when he meets Yoongi's gaze.

Namjoon is just as tall as Yoongi remembers, and quite a bit more built, chest and arms bulging against the thin white shirt that covers him, which is tucked into fitted grey slacks. His hair is overgrown into a bit of a dark mullet, and he shakes it from his warm, sharp eyes, only for it to fall back in place again.

"Oh," he says. "It's you."

Yoongi opens his mouth to respond, lifting a hand to wave, but Namjoon mutters, "Should the two of you really be drinking?" while walking in the opposite direction, toward a hallway that Yoongi surmises must lead to the master suite, or perhaps to an office. The familiar scent of warm musk wafts through the air, with faint hints of cinnamon, and as soon as it is there, it is gone again.

Wheein lets out a petulant, "Humph!" and grabs the bottle of wine, dumping the rest of its contents between their two glasses as if in protest to Namjoon's question.

Then, as soon as the man of the house is down the hallway and disappears into a doorway off to the left, her face brightens once more, and she continues asking Yoongi about childbirth as if nothing had happened. Wheein is a curious woman, eager to know every gritty detail from cell growth to carrying a baby to term. And although Yoongi finds the process a little disgusting, he gladly answers all of her questions.

Tipsy from drinking and only having snacked on crackers and tiny slabs of cheese, Wheein decides that the night is over once the glasses of wine are empty. She takes Yoongi by the crook of an elbow and leads him over to the hall in which Namjoon disappeared.

"Bedrooms are here," Wheein says, waving her hand in the general direction of five doors – two on either side of the hallway and one at the far end. "That one on the end—" she points straight ahead, "—is the bathroom. And this—" she places her palm on the first door on the right and presses it open, "—is your bedroom. The bedding smells faintly like Namjoon so that you can get used to it. Hopefully you don't find it too unpleasant. In the morning, Park Jimin-ssi will return and we will go over the contract."

Yoongi nods along, smiling while staring ahead at the bathroom door, trying to imagine which door on the left Namjoon went through. Not that it is any of his business – nor should he care – but he is…curious. The Namjoon he encountered all those years ago seems so different from the terse man who Yoongi hardly caught sight or whiff of tonight.

"S-sounds good," Yoongi finally responds, and Wheein pulls him into a half-hug from the side before letting him go and walking straight across the hall, opening that door just enough to slip inside, and closing it softly behind, taking the lavender with hints of patchouli with her.

Yoongi hesitates a moment – hovers in place and holds his breath as if to listen for any sound to come from Namjoon through that door. But all is still, and Yoongi shifts left to right on his feet before turning to the guest room and feeling around the wall for a light switch.

The room is furnished with a bed, bedside table, dresser and mirror, and a wall-mounted television. Beside the dresser is Yoongi's suitcase, which he surmises Jeongguk must have brought inside, and above the suitcase is a large window. Yoongi approaches his suitcase, lays it down, and unzips it, finding a set of light blue pajamas, and running his fingertips over the soft flannel material as he looks around, taking in the sight of his temporary home.

How did he end up here, he wonders. Standing in the mayor's home – Kim Namjoon's home – wine drunk with Jung Wheein, the valedictorian who Yoongi was certain until this point had never been aware of his existence.

As he sheds his clothing and gets dressed in the pajamas, sleep begins to claw at Yoongi, pulling his subconscious down, and making him want nothing more than to crawl under the covers. He picks his clothing up from the floor, approaches the dresser, and tosses the garments into a small pile in the corner.

Outside the room, he thinks he hears the sound of a floorboard creek, and he stands still, listening for more movement. Seconds pass, heavy and full of anticipation, and Yoongi could swear the scent of tangerine and warm musk fills his senses, making him sway slightly where he stands.

But then, he reasons that it must just be the bedding that Wheein said would hold Namjoon's scent, and he brings his drifting thoughts to a stop, making his way to the bed and pulling the pale yellow covers aside to climb under.

Only in his wildest dreams would Namjoon be in the hallway, filling the space with more of his calming scent, and Yoongi tells himself that he needs to snap out of it and come back to reality before he gets too caught up pining for a married man he hardly knows.

But, for now, he shuts his eyes and allows himself to imagine.

Yoongi is barely alert, sitting at the tall dining table nursing a steaming cup of black coffee when Namjoon enters the room in what Yoongi surmises is his standard work uniform of a white button-up tucked into grey slacks, taking a seat to his right. The coffee is peculiar, giving off an herbal scent that Yoongi cannot quite place, but it is not unwelcoming, and he gulps some down, feeling his nerves spike.

Wheein sits in front of him, and to his left, Jimin is present and far too perky and alert considering the ungodly hour, wearing a pair of wire-framed glasses that rest at the end of his nose and a white button-up tucked into black slacks. The house-help Jeongguk, who is dressed in all-black casual clothing, busies himself in the kitchen.

"Now that we are all here," Namjoon begins, voice hoarse and far deeper than Yoongi remembers, causing the little hairs on his arms to stand to attention, "we have the final draft of the contract to look over."

Namjoon slides a small stack of papers to the center of the table, which Jimin shifts forward to collect, and their scents collide somewhere in the middle – warm musk, lilacs, tangerines, and a salty hint of sea breeze. Yoongi feels a wave of dizziness hit him, and he sits back, letting his coffee cup thunk a little too hard against the restored wooden table.

A delicate hand reaches over, tapping him on the wrist and adding tangy patchouli to the ever-engulfing blend of aromas, and Yoongi's eyes snap upward to find Wheein smiling with her brows knit.

"Are you alright, my dear?" she asks, and Yoongi nods, swallows a lump, and mutters, "Fine. S-still waking up, I guess."

Heat prickles under every inch of skin that is covered with clothing, making Yoongi shift uncomfortably and yearn for cool air or a nice cold shower. It is almost as if a heat is coming on, which is impossible, because of the medication he takes to block it.

"The only order of business in this contract that should differ from how your company ordinarily proceeds," Namjoon continues, ignoring the exchange between Yoongi and Wheein, "is the method of becoming pregnant."

At this, Yoongi sits alert and turns to Jimin, who is looking over the contract with too trained of an expression. Something is absolutely off, and Yoongi's heart begins to pound wildly in his chest.

"D-different method?" Yoongi asks, feeling as if the room is spinning and too fucking warm.

"My family is very…let's say…traditional," Namjoon clarifies, and Yoongi turns to him with wide, worried eyes, only to find that he is staring ahead at the table with a somewhat distraught look on his face. "Any insemination and childbirth practices need to be performed as rituals to the old gods and the new…if you catch my drift."

At this, Namjoon's eyes lift, but to Jimin, across from him. Yoongi turns sharply and finds his boss looking up at Namjoon before his eyes trail to Yoongi. A cloying mix of calming aromas wafts from every side of Yoongi, and he practically gags on it.

"Yoongi, baby," Jimin utters softly – sweetly, as if he knows that the information he has for Yoongi is going to send him into a tailspin. Only, Yoongi is already in a tailspin because he has just been told that, in order to perform the duties which he has been hired to perform, he and Namjoon are going to have to— "Are you still with us?"

"Did you…do something to my coffee?" Yoongi asks against his better judgment, feeling nausea creep at a rapid pace, clouding his vision in the corners.

At this, Wheein slams her hands on the table and stands, sending her chair grinding backward while shouting, "What did you just say?"

"I'm s— I'm sorry," Yoongi tries, placing his palms face-down on the table and gripping tightly to the edge. He feels like he might vomit, and he needs to find his way out of this conversation.

"How dare you accuse us of such a thing!" Wheein continues, voice fading in and out as if Yoongi's head is bobbing above and below water.

"Sir," Jeongguk speaks softly, placing a hand on Yoongi's shoulder that feels too hot to the touch. "Could this reaction possibly be from the herbal blend?"

"H-herbal blend?" Yoongi asks, feeling panic quake through him.

Yoongi's mouth feels terribly dry, and he picks up the coffee, pulling it to his lips and gulping the tepid bitter liquid down. Perhaps he should ask for water instead, but his body is drenched, his mouth is parched, and he can hardly form his thoughts coherently enough to turn them into words. He can practically feel a new layer of sweat break over his forehead, and he sets the cup down with shaking hands while reaching up to push the overgrown dark brown hair away from his forehead.

Jeongguk hums and says, "The herbal blend that Wheein-ssi likes me to add to her coffee and tea contains extract of ginger, ginseng, and sage. I saw that on your list and assumed you would like more than what was added to your tea last night, so I gave you twice the amount."

The sweat that covers Yoongi goes cold, and he sits up suddenly, knocking the wooden chair onto its back in the process, glancing up at the occupants of the table to see if perhaps this is some joke they are playing on him. Jimin appears horrified, Namjoon stares down at the wooden table, and Wheein's eyes widen. She looks to Jeongguk with knit brows, shaking her head in small movements, and something in her expression suggests he should not have said what he just said.

"But, Wheein-ssi, your list—"

"Jeonggukah, those were items Yoongi was not supposed to consume!"

"But we want him to go into heat, so he becomes pregnant," Jeongguk continues innocently, forcing Yoongi to spin on the balls of his feet to stumble out of the room.

The air is stifling, the room is spinning, and Yoongi is going to vomit any minute. He fumbles toward the hallway, stepping through the threshold just in time for the corridor to stretch impossibly long. Before he knows it, he is on his hands and knees, barely aware of the feeling of his impact against the floor, doing his best to crawl to where he needs to go.

"Alright, you," Jimin's voice greets Yoongi, causing tears to well in his eyes. "Let's get you on your feet."

Yoongi feels embarrassed, having made a terrible impression on the family for which he has been hired to surrogate. Surely, someone like Namjoon is not going to want a weak, sniveling omega in his home, carrying his child. And the idea that Yoongi will have to do everything the traditional way sends a new set of fears quaking through him.

Despite his line of work, Yoongi has never had sex with an alpha. He has never experienced a knot, nor has he been marked in any way. Everyone at the clinic assured him that folks these days do not tend to have traditional pregnancies, so Yoongi assumed it would not be an issue. Or, at the very least, he assumed the conversation would take place before he was sat in their home, drinking their herbal-infused coffee.

Yoongi smells the musk before he feels two large hands lift him, and he yelps when he is suddenly up on his feet with his arm draped over the muscular shoulders of Namjoon, who is crouched forward to accommodate his height.

"Bathroom is straight ahead," Namjoon mutters, and Jimin scurries forward, opening the door and switching on a light while Namjoon assists Yoongi in walking down the hallway.

The musk is far more overpowering than anything Yoongi has experienced, radiating from Namjoon's neck and armpit, blanketing him in warm intoxication, and Yoongi leans his head to the side, eager for more. He wonders what Namjoon's sweat must taste like, licking his lips at the thought.

But then Namjoon gets him through the doorway and maneuvers him against the sink with his butt resting against cold marble, and he slides away, taking much of the musk with him, only allowing hints laced with cinnamon and tangerine to linger.

Yoongi can hear rustling – the opening and closing of a cabinet door and the running of water behind him – all while the blend of scents from Namjoon and Jimin mingle and dance through the small space. Yoongi's eyes rest closed, and he breathes deeply in through his nose, letting the air escape shakily through his mouth.

"I didn't mean to accuse—" Yoongi begins, but Jimin shushes him at the same time a cold cloth is pressed against his forehead.

"I imagine all of this is…a lot for you," Namjoon says softly, taking Yoongi by surprise. He expected Jimin to be the one with calming words, not the gruff alpha who hasn't so much as looked him in the eyes since their so-called meeting began.

Yoongi keeps his eyes closed, determined not to ruin the moment. If this is the only way he can get the man to speak to him, then so be it.

"I really like Wheein-ssi," Yoongi continues, knitting his brows beneath the cold cloth. It feels nice and pulls him from the jumble of physical and emotional overstimulation, grounding him somewhat while his own scent of chamomile engulfs and calms him. "I hope that I didn't hurt her feelings."

"We'll talk more once you're feeling better," Namjoon says.

Yoongi wants to open his eyes and look at the man – really search his expression for how he must be feeling – but he keeps his eyes closed and lets out a deep exhale.

"If you change your mind about doing this—" Namjoon continues, and Yoongi shakes his head.

Long ago, when Yoongi was too weak to stand up for himself, Namjoon was the one who helped him. Namjoon was his beacon of hope in a dark, confusing time, and Yoongi wants to repay him in any way he can – in the only way he can.

"I won't change my mind," is all he can bring himself to say, eager to keep his emotions at bay, lest a spike in pheromones tattles on him. At some point, he and Namjoon are going to need to have a conversation.

There is the question of why Wheein never said anything last night, when she and Yoongi were making their list. She had to have known that the three ingredients that Yoongi stressed he could not have were in the herbal blend that he presumes has been added to both his tea and his coffee. Was she hoping to force Yoongi into a heat cycle as soon as possible?

Whatever the reason, Yoongi is concerned, but he is certain that her intent could not have been malicious, and so he lets it go. Perhaps they will discuss it down the line, but for now, he just wants to lie down. He has no idea how long it may take for the herbal mixture to induce a heat, and he is not eager to be standing in the bathroom with his boss and an alpha who he hardly knows, when the time comes.

The herbal blend causes Yoongi's entire system to go haywire quickly. Perhaps it is because he only allows for a heat to come after giving birth before continuing on the blockers – about once a year – making his body desperate for a cycle, but he hardly gets through the afternoon before every inch of him yearns for Namjoon.

The alpha's scent on his bedding drives Yoongi wild, and he rubs his face against his pillow almost frantically, letting out soft whimpers and growls when it is not enough to stave his desires. There is a part of him that wonders if anyone might be able to overhear him, and shame simmers just beneath his skin. But he is so overcome with desperation that he cannot bring himself to care very much.

Yoongi must fall asleep at some point, because a light knock at the door rouses him, causing him to sit up with a start, groaning and wiping drool from his chin.

"Yoongi-ssi?" Jeongguk's voice calls through the door. "Would you like to join us for dinner?"

Although Yoongi would like nothing more than to eat something, and to sit in the presence of Namjoon’s inviting scent, leaving the room and being present in front of everyone feels daunting, at best. Overwhelming. He is not ashamed of his body's natural functions, but he feels hesitant to encounter people he hardly knows when his hormones are running amuck.

Another soft knock comes, and Yoongi clears his throat before hoarsely shouting, "N-no thank you."

After a pause, there is another knock at the door, but this one sounds different – more purposeful.

"Yoongi?" Namjoon calls. "Can I come in?"

Suddenly, faced with the prospect of being in Namjoon's presence makes Yoongi panic, and he curls in on himself, tugging the yellow comforter over his body and up to his chin.

"I—" Yoongi calls back, eyes searching the room aimlessly while he tries to think of something to say. "Now isn't the best time."

Yoongi is unsure if he hears a sigh on the other side of the door, and he listens for an indication that Namjoon has walked away. To his chagrin, Namjoon responds.

"Are you indecent? Can I at least crack the door open?"

"Fine," Yoongi replies, screwing his eyes closed to take a deep, fortifying breath.

The door opens a few inches, and with the head of the bed against the same wall, Namjoon only has to peek in a little for their gazes to meet. Although it is subtle, Yoongi sees Namjoon's nostrils flare and eyes widen.

"I'm—" Yoongi feels apologetic and shy, "s-sorry, I guess my heat has come."

"Don't apologize," Namjoon responds, voice sounding a bit hazier than Yoongi is used to. "Just wanted to make sure you don't need anything. I can have Jeongguk bring you some food and a cup of tea. Do you usually take any medications?"

"I don’t usually take medicines," Yoongi responds softly. Ordinarily, he gets the typical hot flashes and neediness; cramping is rare. He tends to it by holing up in his apartment and drinking herbal teas that quell some of the more primal instincts; he has no idea what it is like to go into heat surrounded by the alluring stench of an alpha. "Do you have any hibiscus tea?"

Namjoon's face disappears, and then Jeongguk appears, making Yoongi clench onto his blanket in disappointment.

"Hibiscus tea, got it." Jeongguk responds. "I can make you a pot of kimchi soup if you would like?"

Although Yoongi would rather turn away the offer of anything more than a cup of tea, already feeling like a burden in someone else's home, the thought of the tangy, rich broth and a bowl of steamed rice makes his stomach growl loudly.

"That would be nice," Yoongi responds, squeezing his eyes tight to the sound of the door closing quietly. "Thank you."

Yoongi has no idea how long it takes for Jeongguk to return. It feels like only seconds pass, yet some of them could have been stretched for eons. The atmosphere around Yoongi is thick with tense confusion and desire, and he has no fucking clue how to proceed.

A knock at the door startles Yoongi, and he sits up, pushing and kicking the yellow comforter away, embarrassed by how his body oozes with the heady scent of pomegranate, tangy and clinging to the air with trace amounts of chamomile. His limbs wobble, heavy and shaking like a tree caught in a storm, and it takes him a moment to catch his breath once he is on his feet.

"Just a second," Yoongi grumbles, adjusting the white tee that has come untucked from his fitted light blue jeans. The materials cling to him, and he avoids checking his reflection in the mirror across the room.

Yoongi opens the door a crack, just enough to see through. He does not miss the way Jeongguk's nostrils flare and eyes widen as he takes in the state of Yoongi. And although he feels embarrassed suddenly to be perceived this way, he swallows a lump and opens the door further to reach for the tray in Jeongguk's hands.

"Why don't you let me bring it in?" Jeongguk offers, making Yoongi feel even more put on the spot than before. But Jeongguk has a good point. After all, the tray contains two items storing hot liquid, and Yoongi is just jittery enough to make the task extremely precarious.

Yoongi nods and grumbles, "Oh–okay," as he takes a step back and allows Jeongguk to enter the room, closing the door quickly behind him. He is not eager for Namjoon or Wheein to smell him in this state – not until he can shower.

"Your heat must have come on fast," Jeongguk states evenly as he walks to the bed and places the tray on top. It is wooden, with four small legs, creating a nice little table atop the ruffled comforter. With him, a light floral scent carries through the space.

"Yeah," Yoongi responds sheepishly, hugging his arms around himself. "I use the same herbal mixture to induce a heat once a year, and typically only one cup of tea does the trick."

Jeongguk turns with wide eyes, repeating, "Once a year?"

"Typically, my job is done in vitro," Yoongi explains, eyes trailing around the room, unable to settle on one spot. "I find that it is best if my hormones are kept under control. I only induce a heat once the baby has been delivered, to help my body restart, and then I take heat-blockers once the cycle ends."

"Ahhh," Jeongguk mutters. "Well, I am quite used to helping Wheein-ssi through her heats, so if there is anything you need, don't be shy."

Yoongi is surprised by this information. Shouldn't the alpha of the house be helping Wheein? Jeongguk – who, Yoongi surmises, must be a beta – seems like lovely help, but is he really capable of helping Wheein with all of her needs? The man hardly has a scent, only radiating hints of something sweet and floral that Yoongi cannot place.

"Thank you, Jeongguk-ssi," Yoongi responds with a bow of his head. "I appreciate all you have done for me, already."

Silence hangs, and when Yoongi glances up, it seems as if Jeongguk has more that he would like to say. He stares ahead, clearly processing something, with his lips hanging slack. But then he blinks heavily and gives his head a little shake before saying, "Also, when you are ready to, Namjoon would like to meet with you to go over the contract and discuss a timeline."

"Oh," Yoongi says, realizing they never finalized it earlier. "Yes, of course."

"His phone number is on a little slip of paper, sitting beside your rice," Jeongguk instructs with one more bow of his head. "Please text him at your earliest convenience."

Texting Namjoon rather than knocking on a door seems somewhat silly, but Yoongi does not argue. He supposes he is grateful to have a simple way to get in touch with him that also allows for there to be some distance.

Jeongguk exits the room, closing the door quietly behind him, and Yoongi lets out a deep breath and rubs his sweaty palms against his jeans. The smell of the soup and tea dance beautifully, covering enough of Namjoon's lingering musk to allow Yoongi's head to clear as he approaches the bedside table and picks up his phone.

He settles slowly onto the bed, careful not to jostle the tray, and finds the small piece of paper with a phone number scribbled on it. The numbers are clean with very straight lines and circular loops, and Yoongi lifts it before he can think better of it, sniffing the paper, picking up hints of tangerine and cinnamon. So this is Namjoon's handwriting, Yoongi thinks, inspecting it closer. It looks nice.

A soft haze settles over Yoongi – a humming that vibrates just below his skin – and he takes a slow breath as he begins to punch Namjoon's number into his phone. He considers all the things he could say to the man, worrying in circles over whether he should apologize for his entire existence. In the end, he settles for something simple.

Yoongi Hello, Namjoon-ssi. This is Yoongi. Jeongguk-ssi mentioned you wanted to talk with me.

With a tremble in his hands, he sets his phone down and begins to eat. Jeongguk brought kimchi soup, rice, glass noodles, and a cup of hibiscus tea, and everything is flavored perfectly – savory with tangy and sweet notes here and there, the way mom makes it. Although the soup and tea are both hot, they soothe Yoongi, putting his hot flashes at bay. He is nearly done with his meal and feeling much calmer than before, when his phone vibrates.

Namjoon Yoongi-ssi, I would like to meet at your earliest convenience. No rush; eat first.

Yoongi has to scoff at how stuffy Namjoon seems, even over text. He supposes he is the one who set the tone in the first place, but he has to wonder if the detached alpha would text the same way, regardless. Yoongi nibbles on the inside of his cheek, deciding what would be best. On one hand, he hates to keep someone waiting, but on the other…he cannot decide whether he wants to face Namjoon smelling the way he does.

Yoongi Perhaps after I freshen up a bit? A fever hit earlier, and I am not at my best.

Before Yoongi has a chance to set his phone down, it vibrates; he is surprised by how quickly Namjoon responds.

Namjoon Of course. Take your time! I usually go for late jogs, so if I am not in the house, I'll be out back. You are welcome to join me if you would like.

Namjoon's hanok is situated at the end of a suburban area, with enough land between his place and the nearby houses to have seclusion. Perfect for an alpha who likes to let off some steam in a bit of nature. Although Yoongi does not jog often, the primal part of him loves to get lost in the thick of trees, listening to branches crunch underfoot while he exerts himself and lets his worries breeze away. Perhaps jogging with Namjoon is just what he needs.

Yoongi A jog would be nice. I'll shower now and join you in just a bit.

Namjoon Sounds good.

Yoongi makes quick work of finishing his food, suddenly feeling excited at the prospect of getting some fresh air. He grabs a pair of black joggers and a black tee, and leaves the room, turning briefly to see Wheein and Jeongguk sharing a glass of wine in the kitchen. He wonders if Namjoon is already getting dressed and waiting, and scurries to the bathroom at the end of the hall, closing the door tight behind him and switching on the light.

Yoongi peels the sweat-drenched clothing away and drops them into a pile on the floor, then figures out the knobs of the shower, setting the water nice and temperate – not too hot – before slipping in. The water is a warm embrace, instantly shedding some of Yoongi's anxieties, and he smiles to himself, tipping his head back with his eyes closed, allowing the steady spray to wash over him.

After a few calming moments, Yoongi peeks his head from the shower curtain to find small cloths folded on a shelf at eye level and grabs one, then assesses the bottles for body wash. To his surprise, everything smells like chamomile or tangerine, making Yoongi chuckle. He wonders if it is a coincidence or if they planned for this. Had Namjoon remembered what Yoongi smelled like, after all this time?

Yoongi scrubs his body with chamomile, then washes and conditions his hair with tangerine. Once he is satisfied, he stands under the stream with his eyes closed for another twenty seconds or so, then shuts off the water, pokes an arm past the shower curtain, and grabs a large towel from the same eye level shelf. He dries off quickly, then changes into his clean clothing and shoots a text off to Namjoon.

Yoongi Just finished showering. Are you inside or outside?

Namjoon I’m still inside. Meet in the hallway?

Yoongi See you there.

Yoongi brushes his teeth and slaps some moisturizer on his face – beauty products courtesy of Namjoon and Wheein – then hangs up his towel and grabs his discarded clothing, which reek of tangy pomegranate. He scrunches his nose, tired of smelling it.

When he exits the shower, Namjoon is standing in the hallway, and the sight of him makes Yoongi halt in place, nearly tripping over his feet. He wears a tight black tank top and black athletic shorts that stop mid-thigh. And oh, Namjoon's thighs…He knew Namjoon was ripped, but seeing him in athletic wear is something else altogether.

Yoongi has to force his eyes up and tell himself that staring is impolite. But the man is built like a sturdy tree that Yoongi finds himself wanting to climb — a dangerous thought, and one he brushes off as a product of his heat.

He is relieved to find Namjoon turning his attention from the phone in his hands to him only after he finishes ogling him, and Yoongi clears his throat quietly before making his way down the hall.

"Just gonna toss these clothes into the room quick," Yoongi mutters as he approaches.

Namjoon regards him with a brief nod, then continues typing on his phone, and Yoongi opens the door to the room and slips in, tossing the clothing toward the bed and grabbing a pair of sneakers before returning, doing his best to keep his stench of pheromones and sweat trapped.

When he returns, Namjoon is standing straight up with his arms at his sides, and his head tipped slightly back. His eyes are closed, and he appears to be taking a deep breath in through his nose, filling his lungs. Yoongi wonders if he does this to get into a proper headspace to run – calmly intake oxygen to help his muscles relax.

But when Namjoon opens his eyes and looks at Yoongi, his pupils are blown wide and there is something burning in his gaze that causes Yoongi to instinctively take a step back. The way Namjoon looks at him makes Yoongi feel vulnerable and exposed. If he didn't know any better, he would think the alpha wants to eat him.

Namjoon heavy-blinks and clears his throat, dispelling the tension between them, and turns to exit the hallway. To the left, through the main living room, is a door that appears to lead to the back of the property. Namjoon approaches, bends to pick up a pair of shoes beside the exit, and begins putting them on, while Yoongi slides into his sneakers, staying a good six feet or so away from Namjoon, trying his best not to get too much of a whiff of him, breathing primarily through his mouth.

By the time Namjoon straightens out, Yoongi is finishing up tying his second shoe. In the other room, Yoongi can hear Wheein and Jeongguk laughing together. He finds it a bit strange that Namjoon and Wheein do not seem to communicate much, but assumes that is how it is, sometimes. He wonders if being unable to conceive has put a strain on their marriage before deciding it is none of his business.

"Ready?" Namjoon asks, voice deeper and breathier than Yoongi remembers, making him stand alert.

"Yeah," Yoongi responds, sliding his hands into the pockets of his joggers as Namjoon opens the back door and steps outside, audibly taking a deep breath and sighing.

Yoongi nudges the door with his elbow on his way out, then half-turns to pull it closed quietly. The sun has already begun to set, painting the sky orange and pink, and there is a chill in the air that makes Yoongi scrunch his shoulders to his ears momentarily as he steps out onto the small wooden deck. It feels nice, and he rolls his shoulders back, taking in a deep breath of dirt, grass, and citrus.

"Shit," Namjoon mutters under his breath, turning back toward the house.

Yoongi hums and looks at Namjoon, feeling momentarily worried that something may be wrong.

"The contract," Namjoon clarifies, shifting in place as if he is unsure where he wants to be. "I wanted to go over the terms and finalize everything, but I left it in the office."

"Ah," Yoongi says. He wonders if having a paper contract outside while they intend to exercise is practical in the first place, and suggests an alternative. "What if we discuss the terms, and when we return inside, we can sign it? I assume you have gone over everything, and I can give it a quick read."

Namjoon knits his brow, considering Yoongi's proposition, then nods. "Yeah," he says, eyes on the wooden floor of the deck rather than meeting Yoongi's gaze, "that sounds good."

Yoongi nods and takes in the scenery around him. Behind Namjoon's hanok, the land opens up to a large yard with an inground pool. Past the pool ahead is a wooded area, with thick trees and brush, and to the left is a small bungalow that he surmises must be the guesthouse. Yoongi wonders how much of the land belongs to Namjoon; how far they can run.

"This path zig-zags through the trees, out the other side," Namjoon explains as if reading his mind. "I like to run the path, and continue along the residential area on the other side, to a park that is a few miles away. We don't have to run the entire length…whatever you feel like."

"Sounds good," Yoongi responds, waiting for Namjoon to lead the way.

Namjoon walks ahead, down the three steps that lead to a path that wraps around the pool to the right and into the trees, slowly picking up his pace. Yoongi follows, then steps in pace with Namjoon. It is a leisurely jog, and Yoongi instantly feels a calm rush over him at the feeling of the evening wind in his shoulder-length hair, though he wishes he had brought a hair tie.

"The main clause in the contract is that we have to actually, er—" Namjoon begins, cutting himself off until only the sound of gunite underfoot can be heard.

"Procreate," Yoongi offers, cringing instantly at his choice of word.

Luckily, it makes Namjoon chuckle, lightening the mood. "Yes, procreate."

Silence falls between them, and they approach the edge of the wooded area before Namjoon asks, "Does that make you uncomfortable?"

Yoongi takes a moment to answer, curious how forthcoming he should be with Namjoon. He wonders if it is necessary for the alpha to know that he has never taken a knot before. Underfoot, the path becomes dirt with twigs and leaves crunching as they begin to jog past the edge of the trees.

"Not uncomfortable," Yoongi says, eyes on the path, which is more than wide enough for two. "I was a bit surprised, since that is different from how things are typically done these days, but I respect the old ways just as much as the new. As long as you and your wife are comfortable."

For the briefest of moments, Yoongi could swear Namjoon's cinnamon scent bitterly stings the air, but just as soon as it arrives, it is gone. It is not uncommon for the tangier or sharper of the smells someone has to be strongest when they are feeling heightened levels of irritation, anger, annoyance, depression, and so on. Briefly, Yoongi worries whether something he said bothered Namjoon.

"I am comfortable as long as you are," Namjoon responds somewhat tersely as they take a left turn and the path straightens out before turning right up ahead.

Again, silence falls, and Yoongi listens to the scurry of rodents and the soft calls of birds. To the right, through the wooded area, Yoongi can see more of the path. It appears to snake through the trees from right to left to right again with wooded areas in between. It is peaceful, and Yoongi is grateful that Namjoon invited him. For the first time since his heat began, he feels calm and in control of his own body.

Once his heat fully hits, he will not be so mobile. The first wave is a bit of a warning, ebbing and flowing before coming in full swing. In a day or two, he expects to lock himself in that small bedroom and hide away from everyone until it passes, or at least until they mate. Although omegas are most fertile while in heat, he and Namjoon still need to discuss a timeline for everything.

"Is there a good time for us to…" Yoongi trails off, taking the curve to the right and continuing in step beside Namjoon. He squeezes his eyes shut for a split second and curses himself for being so awkward; he is an adult, discussing a contractual agreement with another adult. Just because there is sex involved, does not mean he should struggle to discuss it.

"For us to…?" Namjoon asks when the silence draws on a little long.

The thought of laying sprawled out beneath Namjoon, looking up at him while his hair clings to his sweaty forehead flashes in Yoongi's mind, and all at once, he trips over his own feet and topples forward, knees and palms meeting the ground before he corrects himself. The tumble is small and hardly disrupts their pace, but Namjoon is close in an instant, filling his senses with tangerines and warm, calming musk.

"Are you alright?" Namjoon asks, voice low and soft, giving Yoongi goosebumps.

Yoongi hums in response, eager for Namjoon to not be quite so close, despite how much his body longs for him to touch him. They run in silence, snaking around to the left and to the right again, while Yoongi attempts to clear his head, and he is grateful for Namjoon's patience while he gathers his thoughts. Once they start reaching the end of the path, Yoongi takes in a fortifying breath.

"What I was going to ask is whether there is a good time for us to get started," Yoongi says, keeping his eyes ahead. "On the whole…er…process."

"The procreation," Namjoon adds, and Yoongi wonders if there is a playful tone to his voice, but he does not want to face the man and check his expression.

"Yes," he says, cracking a soft smile. "The procreation."

As they come around the final curve, the treeline ends, opening up to a well-trodden grassy area. Up ahead is a round cul-de-sac and sidewalk that leads to a residential neighborhood, and further down, there appears to be a playground of some sort.

"Whenever you feel most comfortable," Namjoon says, which, if Yoongi is being honest, is not the most helpful statement.

Yoongi hums and glances around, not very focused on anything in particular; more eager than anything to get a plan of some sort finalized.

"Well, I am already at your house and more or less ready to begin," Yoongi huffs, finally feeling the exertion of the run. "You are the one with the career, so really, it is up to you, depending on how hands-on you would like to be. And if you would rather wait for my heat to be over, we can."

The sound that comes from Namjoon is somewhere between a hum and a groan, and Yoongi is unsure how to parse it, but certain that he would rather pretend he never heard it. All the little hairs on his body stand at attention, and he does his best not to trip on his own feet again.

"It may be best if we wait until after," Namjoon finally responds. The soft tone of voice has returned, and it does wonders for Yoongi's already wild imagination. "Not to be dismissive or anything, but since omegas tend to get…shall we say…needy during their heats, I should probably keep my distance."

At this, Yoongi laughs – a burst at first that blooms into something melodic and impossible to contain. Namjoon lets out a surprised sound before he, too, chuckles, and Yoongi slows their run to a stop in order to catch his breath.

"What is it?" Namjoon asks, laughter in his voice.

For the first time since coming outside, Yoongi allows himself to glance at Namjoon. He realizes too late that he made a mistake when a sheen of sweat that glistens on Namjoon's neck is hit just right by the streetlights and diminishing sun rays, making his golden skin shine. Namjoon cracks a hint of a smile, watching Yoongi as if he is waiting for a response; Yoongi has no idea why they were laughing, anymore, brain muddled by the alpha's beauty.

"Uh—" Yoongi mutters, pulling his eyes from Namjoon to glance around and attempt to clear his head. "What were we talking about?"

Namjoon scoffs and reaches up, leaning into Yoongi's personal space and taking him by surprise. When Namjoon's warm hand comes into contact with Yoongi's forehead, it makes him freeze in place.

"Do you have a fever or something, omega?" Namjoon asks, moving his hand to Yoongi's cheek as if comparing the two temperatures.

Yoongi ducks dramatically to the side, swatting at the air, doing his best not to touch the alpha who evidently has no respect for personal space.

"Excuse you," he grumbles, watching as Namjoon cracks more of a smile, cheeks delicately dimpled. "I feel fine, for the most part. Just…I don't know…I'm tired."

A lie; Yoongi is not remotely tired. In fact, this run has him feeling more invigorated than he has in months.

"We were discussing the possibility of waiting until after your heat," Namjoon responds somewhat under his breath. He averts his gaze to the road, and Yoongi wonders if the topic of conversation actually makes him feel shy.

"Ah," Yoongi says, remembering Namjoon saying he would become needy and feeling warmth flood to his cheeks. There is a part of him that feels disappointed that Namjoon will want to keep all of his strong, calming alpha scents away when Yoongi desires them most, but he does his best to tamp those thoughts down and remind himself once again that Namjoon is not his.

But what if Namjoon were his, Yoongi's heat-addled mind suggests, unhelpfully. What if, just once, Namjoon could cradle him the way he needs while he fights through his heat? What if Namjoon enveloped him in a warm cocoon of spicy-citrus heaven?

Warmth rushes through Yoongi at a dizzying pace, making his chest feel tight, and he takes a deep intake of cool night air, closing his eyes and tilting his head to the sky. Suddenly, his limbs feel al dente and ready to collapse, and his heart pounds.

"You alright?" Namjoon asks, and Yoongi notices his own tangy scent of pomegranate permeating the air.

"Y-yeah," Yoongi responds, turning back toward the house. "Just got hit by a hot flash. I might head back to the house."

"Alright," Namjoon mutters, taking a step closer, emitting a soothing wave of musk. "Do you want me to come with you?"

Yes, Yoongi thinks. He would love for Namjoon to come with him. Only, he fixates on Namjoon towering over him, sweaty and eager to placate his hormonal urges, which is the opposite of what Namjoon can do for him.

"No, I'm good," Yoongi insists. "I'll see you back there."

Yoongi does not wait for Namjoon to respond before he begins jogging toward the trees. Although the cool night air is relaxing, Yoongi feels warm and worn out. He worries his knees might give way, but he presses ahead. The sound of Namjoon's feet jogging in the opposite direction can be heard, and once the lingering scent of tangerine fades, Yoongi lets out a deep breath, slowing down to intake air uninhabited by him.

Being in the presence of Namjoon almost feels like a pull – like there is an invisible string connecting them, causing Yoongi to get caught in Namjoon's gravity. Yoongi wonders again what life might be like if Namjoon were his to orbit. He knows the thought is silly, and it does nothing to tamp the wave of loneliness he feels as he picks up his pace and jogs back toward the large home alone.

He takes it slow, not entirely eager to return too soon before Namjoon. Although Wheein was nice to him last night, her behavior this morning and distance all day has Yoongi feeling unsure of what to think of her. It must be strange to have another person in the house, and Yoongi can only imagine how she must be feeling knowing that he and Namjoon will have to mate the traditional way. Still, he cannot help but wonder if she really meant it last night when she said they would become friends.

Yoongi enters the trees and takes a deep breath of fresh air, letting it settle in his lungs before it rattles out with each movement of his legs. Without Namjoon’s musk, Yoongi feels a bit brighter, oxygen coming to him a little easier. He follows the path and curves to the left, glancing through the trees to his left, toward the residential area for a glimpse of Namjoon, finding a distant figure that may be moving toward him.

He wonders if it is possible for Namjoon to have already run to the end of his route, and glances again, seeing him advance quickly from between the trees. Briefly, Yoongi imagines Namjoon as his alpha coming to give chase and capture him, and instantly, his pheromones spike, creating a cloying plume of chamomile with hints of pomegranate.

“Gods damn it,” Yoongi mutters under his breath, feeling embarrassed by the possibility of Namjoon catching up and running straight through the scent.

But then he imagines Namjoon sniffing the air with blown pupils that blaze with a fire just for Yoongi. Perhaps he has worked up even more of a sweat – dewy and dripping, tasting salty-sweet. The thought stirs arousal in Yoongi’s tummy, and although it is a small amount, he can both feel and smell the slick that he produces – a headier, muskier mixture of his scents.

With a groan, Yoongi follows the path around to the right and picks up the pace. No longer is he concerned with returning alone and having to face Wheein. Now he just wants to get back to the room and bury himself under the warm, soft blankets that smell just like the alpha he cannot stop thinking about, contract be damned.

Yoongi begins to huff and grunt as he jogs on. The small amount of slick he has produced feels uncomfortable, and the more he dwells on it, the more his pheromones seem to seep into the air, clinging all around him like a mist. He wonders if it would be excessive to take another shower.

As he follows the path around one more curve, Yoongi hears a branch snap to his left, in the direction from which Namjoon runs, and he turns his head to find Namjoon running straight through the trees, toward him. Fear and adrenaline spike in Yoongi, and he picks up the pace, running faster. If this is a game Namjoon is playing with him, Yoongi is unsure whether he finds it amusing.

Another branch snaps, this one much closer, and Yoongi turns his head to find Namjoon leaping out from the wooded area, onto the path behind him, watching him with wide eyes and a stance that almost looks like Namjoon is going to get onto all fours and give animalistic chase. Yoongi turns his gaze ahead and approaches the next curve in the road, taking it rather quickly and checking to see that he is not too far from the house.

But as soon as Yoongi is around the bend, Namjoon is ahead, exiting the wooded area and running straight for him. Yoongi falters in his steps and nearly trips over himself, then he veers off the path and begins to run through the last strip of woods in the direction of the Hanok. The sounds of leaves and twigs underfoot snap loudly, causing Yoongi's heart to pound impossibly harder, and he runs as if his life depends on it, hopping over fallen branches and zig-zagging around trees.

And then he trips. Yoongi's right ankle gets caught on a large branch, and he falls forward, bracing himself for impact with his hands outstretched. He feels foolish and confused, heart booming loudly in his ears, and more than anything he just wants to get away from this stupid fucking path and out of all of this nature.

Just as Yoongi's already sore palms hit uneven ground, two strong, warm arms wrap around him and yank him back. Before he can make sense of anything, Yoongi is firmly pressed against the thick trunk of a maple tree. Namjoon's arms cage Yoongi in, hands on either side of his face, and he leans in close, loudly sniffing the air around them.

"N-Namjoon?" Yoongi mutters as his entire body trembles.

From this proximity, the aura of musk and tangerine is strong and sweet – intoxicating. His eyelids flutter shut as more pungent slick is produced, feeling a primal calm wash over him despite being caught by a man who had just given chase.

"What are you doing?" he tries, tilting his head away from Namjoon, who continues to sniff him.

"Smells so good," Namjoon groans after a pause, voice deep and lust-laced.

Yoongi wants to shove Namjoon away and continue back to the hanok, but he finds he cannot move. The alpha's presence is strong and commanding, and Yoongi likes this attention from him; he likes the idea that his scent is alluring. And so he stands with his back pressed against the tree, panting through shattered breath as he attempts to even his heartbeat and ignore the flooding arousal that pools in his tummy.

Then, as if ripped from a trance, Namjoon stands straight up and blinks heavily, taking two steps back. He glances around at his surroundings and, with wide, apologetic eyes, he mutters, "S-sorry. I didn't mean to—that was an accident."

Yoongi clears his throat as disappointment builds and builds and crashes throughout him. He feels shipwrecked at sea – splintered wood left to drift aimlessly in open waters. Because of course, it was an accident; why would Namjoon desire him?

"It's fine," Yoongi responds as he peels himself away from the tree and slowly begins to walk back toward the path.

Namjoon leads the way, jogging without a glance back. Yoongi follows behind. Not another word is exchanged between them, and when Yoongi returns to the hanok, he kicks his shoes off and heads straight to the room.

Namjoon I left the contract on the dining room table. Please read it over and let me know if there is anything we need to amend. If everything looks good, we can sign it and work out a timeline. We discussed waiting until your heat is over, if you recall. Just let me know when the time comes, and we can begin making arrangements.

Yoongi blinks sleep from his eyes as he reads over Namjoon's message. The feral part of him wants to ignore everything contract-related and ask him just what the fuck happened last night, while they were jogging. Had Namjoon caught a whiff of Yoongi's arousal and begun to take chase without thinking? That is the only conclusion Yoongi is able to draw, and he has given it a lot of thought.

But Yoongi decides not to interrogate the alpha. It is not as if he can fully control his urges; some instincts are too primal. Just because his arousal may be inviting does not mean Namjoon wants him.

Yoongi gets dressed for the day and exits the room, feeling a sheen of dewy sweat cover him. He is warm and irritated, and he wants to grab some fruit and a cup of tea and return to bed. To his delight, only Jeongguk is in the kitchen, and as Yoongi approaches, the man turns quickly to face him with wide, curious eyes.

"What?" Yoongi grumbles, uncomfortable with the way Jeongguk's gaze roves over him. "Is there something on my face?"

Jeongguk blinks several times, then shakes his head, and says, "The smell," almost more to himself than to Yoongi.

With a grunt of acknowledgment, Yoongi approaches the dining table and finds the aforementioned contract, picking it up and glancing over it.

"Could I trouble you for some fruit and tea?" he asks softly, watching as Jeongguk – who seems to be preparing tofu – nods, and hums.

"Anything else?" Jeongguk asks, not turning around to address Yoongi directly.

"Nah," Yoongi responds as he turns and makes his way back to the room. "Feel free to shout and I'll come get it."

Yoongi hears Jeongguk hum in response, and he returns to the room and closes the door tightly behind him. He shuffles over to the bed and has a seat, then begins to read over the contract. It looks like any other contract he has had to sign for work, with the amendments of a traditional mating ritual. Ordinarily, when he surrogates, the egg belongs to the other parent, and it dawns on Yoongi that this child will be his DNA, not Wheein's.

The thought of it makes his hands tremble, and he gnaws on the inside of his mouth. How will he feel, knowing years from now that the baby Namjoon and Wheein raise as their own is his? Will he be given rights to be in that child's life? Will he even want that?

Yoongi stares at the page until the words blur and jumble, turning into black smudges against white – incoherent and impossible to parse. He feels anxious and suddenly so terribly alone, and he begins to worry that maybe he cannot do this. Maybe he needs to back out. Maybe he should just go home.

The sound of knuckles rapping against the wooden door pulls Yoongi from the fog, and he sits alert and looks in the direction of the sound.

"Yes?" he calls, heart pounding at the thought that it could be Namjoon on the other side.

"Tea is ready," Jeongguk responds softly. "I didn't feel like shouting."

With a hum, Yoongi tosses the contract aside and gets off the bed. As he steps closer to the door, he begins to feel a bit shy about how much the room must reek of him. In the kitchen, Jeongguk seemed dazed by his mere presence; what might it smell like contained in such a small space, even with the window cracked open?

To his surprise, Jeongguk's expression seems rather schooled as he opens the door and greets him. He reaches for the tray of tea and fruit, but Jeongguk shakes his head and nods his chin as if to motion for Yoongi to get out of his way.

"Fine," Yoongi mutters, stepping aside and allowing him to enter. The aroma of the tea is strong and soothing.

Jeongguk makes his way to the bed and sets the tray down. His eyes seem to linger on the contract, and then he straightens himself out and turns back to Yoongi. With a concerned pinch to his brow, he opens his mouth, but then he seems to think better about what he might say, and he closes it, floundering.

"Is something the matter?" Yoongi drawls, unable to hide his impatience. He just wants to return to bed and enjoy his tea and fruit, and Jeongguk is standing in the way.

"No," Jeongguk responds after a moment, shrugging as he leaves the room.

"Weirdo," Yoongi mutters under his breath once the door is closed tight. He feels hormonal and irritated, and he is not in the mood for a cryptic beta sniffing around in his personal space.

Yoongi would throw himself onto the mattress in a disgruntled huff if it weren't for the tray of hot tea sitting atop. Instead, he slowly gets onto his knees and shuffles over, plopping onto his butt once he is close enough, causing the porcelain to rattle on its wooden surface.

The tea is perfect, lightly sweetened with honey and soothing on the throat. Yoongi allows himself to be grateful for Jeongguk despite how annoying he finds his presence today. He wonders if Jeongguk likes being employed by the couple because he enjoys doting on others. He even wonders if Jeongguk will dote on him throughout the pregnancy. Or if that is something Namjoon will do?

Namjoon. Yoongi grimaces at the thought of him. Last night, in the woods, pressed against the tree and caged in by Namjoon's arms, Yoongi felt truly alive. Something primal sparked inside him after being chased and captured by the alpha. Just thinking about it has slick threatening to stain his pants.

But then he remembers the look on Namjoon's face when he said it was an accident, and the arousal turns acidic, giving Yoongi a stomach ache. With a frown, he enjoys his fruit – sliced pear and watermelon – and considers once more the thought of backing out of this situation.

Does he really want to be tied to Namjoon for the rest of his life? Is it worth the paycheck? Yoongi is happy to let his body be used to carry a baby to term, but his baby? His flesh and blood, sharing physical features and primal, innate instincts with Kim Namjoon? Can he really go through with it?

This time, when knuckles rap gently at the door, Yoongi huffs out a sigh and shouts, "What?" He is not in the mood to be bothered; can't he wallow in his moodiness alone?

"Yoongi-ssi?" Namjoon calls from the other side of the door.

Namjoon is possibly the last person on this planet Yoongi wants stepping foot into this room, especially with his arousal cloying the air. Even if Namjoon does not desire him, the alpha in him will likely become aroused, and he would rather save all of that for when they actually have to mate.

A shudder runs down Yoongi's spine, and he calls back, "Don't come in here!"

"I just wanted to make sure you got the contract," Namjoon responds, and Yoongi nods to nobody but himself as he mutters, "I got it."

"Okay, good," Namjoon says, and that is it. Silence from the other side of the door, just as Yoongi likes it.

He reminds himself that Namjoon stood up for him all those years ago, and that he should stop second-guessing whether he wants to help him or not. He should help Namjoon; he likes to help others. So he picks up his phone and thumbs around for his conversation with the alpha.

Yoongi Contract looks good. I have a few things I would like to discuss, but it can wait until after my heat ends.

Before Yoongi has a chance to set his phone down, it rings. Namjoon's name flashes on the screen, filling Yoongi with a wave of anxiety. Of course, it is fair that Namjoon would want to iron out any details, but now?

Yoongi answers the phone with a hum.

"We can talk about it now if you'd like to," Namjoon says, tone low and concerned. Hearing Namjoon's voice spoken so directly in his ear gives him goosebumps; he sounds good.

"Uh—" Yoongi clears his throat and runs a hand through his long, messy hair. "Alright. Well, I guess I was wondering about after the baby is born, since, you know…it's going to share my DNA too, if, uh…"

He trails off, unable to finish the sentence. Suddenly, he feels embarrassed to care this much, especially being unable to see and gauge Namjoon's reaction.

"Never mind," he mutters when the silence becomes overwhelming. "Forget it."

"Yoongi, listen," Namjoon says, voice stripped of any hint of concern; stern. "I know the process will likely be really stressful, and very personal to you, but I'm not sure it's a good idea for you to come around once we've finished. At least not until the baby is older. The media might turn it into a mess, and we need to think about our reputations."

"We what?" Yoongi responds sharply, unable to hold in the surge of anger that burns behind his ribcage. "What the fuck did you just say?"

Namjoon has the audacity to sigh, and Yoongi spirals.

"You know what?" Yoongi says through a sardonic chuckle, shaking his head, "Fuck you, and fuck this contract. I'm packing my shit and going home."

"Yoongi," Namjoon groans impatiently, "why don't we discuss this once your heat is over?"

"Once my heat is over?" Yoongi practically shouts, voice steeped in sarcasm. "Why, because I'm hormonal? Surely my judgment is being clouded because my omega instincts are making me overreact."

Namjoon hums and responds, "Pretty much."

"Oh, I fucking hate you," Yoongi says, getting up from the bed and pacing around, grabbing his discarded clothing from the floor and walking toward his suitcase to shove the items in unceremoniously. "And stop addressing me without honorifics! I am older than you!"

The tone of Namjoon's voice as he says, "I'm the alpha of this house," is almost playful, and Yoongi finds it infuriating.

"Can't even get your wife pregnant," Yoongi mutters under his breath. "Some fucking alpha you are."

As soon as the words leave his lips, Yoongi braces himself to be yelled at. He really has a lot of nerve saying shit like that to the man whose house he has been staying in. It takes Yoongi by surprise, however, when the door to the bedroom flies open, and Namjoon comes barreling in.

"Say that to my face, omega," Namjoon challenges, standing tall while Yoongi still holds his phone to his ear, crouched over his suitcase, and too dazed to move.

The bitter sting of cinnamon permeates the air, and Yoongi stumbles back, feeling dizzy.

"Not so tough are you now, little wolf?" Namjoon snarls, stepping forward and crowding Yoongi's space.

Yoongi wonders if Jeongguk or Wheein are around and can hear them. He wonders if they would intervene if things got physical between them.

He does not want to fight Namjoon, however. He wants to fuck.

Seeing him worked up with his jaw set and nostrils flaring, muscles strained behind his white button-up does something to Yoongi, and he is unable to stop himself from leaking a little at the sight of him. This must catch Namjoon's attention because he sniffs the air before his eyes widen, confusion laced with anger.

"If you want to leave, then get the fuck out," Namjoon says, blinking heavily and appearing less confident than just a moment ago. "Otherwise, watch what you say to me."

"Alright," Yoongi mutters, eyes traveling over Namjoon, past the hint of skin that peeks past his collar – two buttons left undone – to the shape of his waist and hips, no detail hidden behind the white fabric. "S-sorry."

"Are you?" Namjoon asks, making Yoongi's eyes snap back to his face.

"Yeah," he mutters, and he means it. All the fight has drained out of him, and the bedroom stinks of negativity and arousal.

"If you stay, we can discuss all of this in better detail," Namjoon says, taking a step backward. Sweat shimmers on his throat, and once more, Yoongi cannot stop himself from imagining what it must taste like.

"Later," Namjoon adds, eyes glancing around the room, dazed.

And then he walks out, closing the door behind him. Yoongi's phone remains clutched in his hand, and he glances down to notice that the call was never hung up. Seconds tick by uselessly on his screen until finally, the line goes dead.

"Fuck," Yoongi mutters, tossing his phone to the bed as he lets out a deep exhale. "Holy fuck. That was hot."

No longer is Yoongi considering packing and leaving; he is desperate for Namjoon to mate him.

Tonight, it is Wheein who brings Yoongi dinner. She looks tense as she holds the tray of kimchi soup, rice, and tea, and thankfully, she allows Yoongi to take it from her in the doorway. Yoongi hopes she will excuse herself immediately.

"What did you say to piss off Namjoon earlier?" she asks, voice full of mirth.

Yoongi stops mid-turn and looks over his shoulder to find her standing with her arms crossed over her chest. Heat rises to his face, and he spins away to continue carrying the tray over to the bed.

"Oh, nothing, really…" Yoongi mutters, unsure what he could possibly tell her about what happened. He is almost certain Namjoon did not confide in her, if the lack of conversation he has witnessed is anything to go by. "I misunderstood a line in the contract, and overreacted. My hormones have been super off balance."

Yoongi turns and feigns concern as he adds, "Why? Did he—did he say anything?"

Wheein squints and appears to study Yoongi, then she shrugs and responds, "No. Just heard him storm in here, that's all."

"Ah," Yoongi mutters, feeling uncomfortable. "Well, thank you for the food. I appreciate it."

"The thing is," Wheein continues, straightening her posture and taking a step into the room, "he seems to be coming down with a fever. I'm worried that something may have stressed him out so much that he has become sick."

Yoongi swallows a lump, feeling a prickle of sweat on his forehead. Just what the hell is Wheein trying to accuse him of?

"I don't think that's how stress or sickness works," Yoongi mutters, somewhat defensively.

With a devilish grin, Wheein says, "True. Maybe he got a whiff of your horny omega slick and now he's going into a rut."

Yoongi's heart pounds wildly in his chest, and he racks his brain…is that how ruts work? He is not entirely sure; alpha ruts are not exactly part of the in vitro birthing process.

"I'm…not—" Yoongi begins, wanting to argue that he has not been excreting slick willy-nilly for all the house to smell. Sure, he is sweating a lot, and producing a bouquet of scents, but his slick has been more or less kept under control.

But then he remembers the jog in the woods. Not only that, but Namjoon chased him through the trees and pinned him in order to get a better sniff of him. And he did leak a little earlier today when Namjoon stormed in and loomed over him like a threat. Could that have caused a rut?

Yoongi begins to panic, feeling his pulse rage. He knits his brow and shakes his head, attempting to think of something to say, but Wheein just giggles and walks out, closing the door and leaving a spattering of patchouli behind her.

Briefly, Yoongi wonders if she is drunk; she does seem to enjoy her white wine. Or is she being malicious? Does having another omega in the house make her feel insecure?

There is a part of Yoongi that wants to reach out to Namjoon and ask him what is wrong – to make sure that it is not, in fact, a rut that he is going through. But Namjoon has been so hot and cold toward Yoongi since his arrival, and more than anything, he wants to get the procreation done and over with so that he can carry their child to term and never see them again.

However, if he is going to be in this house for a year, give or take, then he needs an ally. So he climbs onto the bed, finds his phone, and makes an attempt at opening a dialogue.

Yoongi I have a feeling Wheein hates me.

He sets his phone down and takes a spoonful of soup, raising it to his lips before stopping and giving it a whiff. Certainly, if she were going to poison him, she would do so with something undetectable, Yoongi thinks, but he takes precautions anyway. After all, she is not above having things added to his food that should not be in there.

Yoongi has a spoonful of the soup, then a bite of rice, and a spoonful of soup again. He closes his eyes, savoring the broth with a tiny smile, deciding it is probably not dosed with poison. Beside him, his cell phone buzzes.

Namjoon To be fair, she hates everything.

This makes Yoongi snicker and roll his eyes.

Yoongi How reassuring.

Namjoon Why? Has she said something to you?

Yoongi feels a little surprised by Namjoon's concern. Of course, this could be a robotic response, seeing as Yoongi is a guest in his home. Or a response born out of boredom, if Namjoon really is sick. Still, Yoongi takes what he can get.

Yoongi She asked me what I said to anger you. I lied a little, because I wasn't sure if you told her, and I was already embarrassed enough that I didn't want to run the risk of offending her, as well.

Namjoon She's good at smelling lies. But it's probably best that you didn't tell her.

Yoongi I figured.

Yoongi continues to eat, staring at his phone, which rests on his knee, waiting for Namjoon to respond. It only takes a few minutes for him to become antsy.

Yoongi She mentioned you've been feeling sick.

Namjoon A fever, I think. Nothing concerning.

Yoongi Wheein said it might be a rut. She even teased me, saying it was probably my fault.

Namjoon She said that?

Yoongi I’m sure she was joking, but it did make me a bit uncomfortable.

Yoongi wants to ask directly. He wants to interrogate Namjoon about what happened in the woods last night and ask him what he thinks they should do. If Namjoon is reacting to his scent in a primal way, is it safe for them to be in the same house?

He stares at his phone, waiting for a response to come in, feeling disappointment well inside his guts with each moment that passes without one. He even considers calling Namjoon just to clear things up.

But instead, he decides he would rather eat his dinner. Already, the food and tea have begun to turn cold, so he slurps everything up, intent on finishing rather than savoring.

Since Namjoon is likely confined to one of the rooms, Yoongi decides to take his tray back to the kitchen. Perhaps he can engage in more friendly conversation with Wheein, or find out what Jeongguk is up to.

Yoongi slides off the bed and grabs the tray, balancing it on one palm spread across the underside as he walks to the door and opens it. He peeks out briefly, and upon finding only Jeongguk in the kitchen, he exits the room and pads over.

As he approaches, Jeongguk looks up, and with widened eyes, he trots over, reaching out for the tray before getting close enough to take it.

“I got it,” Yoongi grumbles, but Jeongguk takes it anyway, spinning on the balls of his feet to place it onto the counter.

“Yoongi-ssi,” Jeongguk says as he turns his attention back to Yoongi. “I was just going to come talk to you.”

“Oh?”

Jeongguk hums. “Being that you are in a heat cycle and Namjoon is feeling unwell, we would like to move you.”

"Like, what, to another room?" Yoongi scoffs; what difference would it make if he were across the same hallway, one door over.

"It's…more like a guesthouse," Jeongguk responds with a look of concern, possibly because he can see how Yoongi is responding to the request.

"A guesthouse," Yoongi mutters under his breath.

So, essentially, they would like to further isolate Yoongi and keep him away from Namjoon. And he is supposed to carry a child under those conditions…he wishes he could say he is surprised, but isolating the surrogate does seem to be the way couples handle the process, and a guesthouse had been mentioned before.

"Fine," Yoongi grumbles, feeling exhausted.

Perhaps it is for the best that he is away from this weirdo family and keeps to himself. The pay that will come at the end of this whole ordeal will be enough that he can take a vacation to clear his mind, and he decides to begin looking forward to that.

Yoongi leads the way back to the bedroom and pushes the door open, leaving it hanging rather than bothering to close it behind him. Let his stench fill the hallway, for all he cares; if Namjoon really is rutting, then he hopes the man feels miserable.

First, he picks up his phone – checking for messages and rolling his eyes when he finds none – and then he shoves his strewn clothing back into his suitcase and zips it shut. Jeongguk arrives and waits in the doorway, seemingly surprised to find Yoongi is already set to leave.

"You never bothered to unpack," Jeongguk mutters, a statement rather than a question.

Rather than respond, Yoongi shoves past and walks down the hallway, toward the bathroom, to retrieve his toothbrush. For a brief moment, he considers taking the amenities that have been provided, but he decides to wait and find out what the guesthouse has to offer. Yoongi pads back and finds that Jeongguk already has his suitcase handle extended and in his grasp, so he approaches and waits for the beta to lead the way.

"It's out back," Jeongguk mutters as he wheels the case toward the back door, and Yoongi trods ahead and slides his feet into the sneakers that were left the night before, not bothering to untie them or straighten out the backs that bend beneath his heels. He stands off to the side as Jeongguk slides into some sandals and opens the back door, leading the way to the left, where the wooden deck extends past the pool, along the side of the house.

Past the pool, between the hanok and the wooded area, is a small wooden bungalow – a tiny version of the hanok, with matching ornate black roof tiles. It runs the width of the pool, although how deep the structure is, Yoongi cannot tell. Jeongguk leads down the wooden path until he reaches the door, then he pulls out a key and unlocks it.

As soon as Yoongi steps close to the front door, he is hit with the scent of warm musk, tangerine, and cinnamon, stronger than it had been in the other bedroom. Petulance rises, and he cannot decide whether he is more annoyed at having to smell the alpha because he wants him close, or if he simply wants nothing to do with his presence at all.

This building is far more quaint, with a large room that has a bed set up in the far corner, raised from the floor and covered in furs – what one would expect from a wolf home centuries ago – with a dresser and mirror nearby. There is a low square table in the center of the room, around which sits four yellow-brown cushions. To the right is a window, and to the left is a door, through which Yoongi expects to find a bathroom.

There is no kitchen, nor hint of space in which to prepare meals, making Yoongi uncomfortable. Sure, he had been accepting Jeongguk's insistence of preparing and delivering his meals, but out here, away from the house, he practically feels like a prisoner. The space is bare bones, and appears hardly used – though immaculate; Yoongi does not see a speck of dust. He wonders if Jeongguk recently cleaned in here.

"What do I do about food?" Yoongi asks, already knowing what the answer will be.

"I already prepare all three meals for Namjoon and Wheein," Jeongguk responds simply. "And I was already bringing your meals, before we moved you here. It's no trouble for me to make the extra trip with a tray."

Yoongi sighs and digs the palms of his hands against his eyes, feeling tired, but more in an emotional way than a physical one.

"I guess I was hoping that on days I felt better, I could have a little more independence."

Jeongguk nods, then shrugs and says, "I understand it must be strange to live with a family who has hired help, but I assure you that nobody cooks or cleans in that kitchen but me."

"And if you're sick?" Yoongi challenges, raising an eyebrow.

"I rarely become sick," Jeongguk responds.

Yoongi simply hums. Must be nice, he thinks, to be a beta with no heat or rut cycle to care about. Still, the thought of having to rely on someone else for all of his meals feels…well, annoying. But he swallows down the rest of his remarks and accepts things as they are. Jeongguk is, after all, a great cook.

"Take down my number so it will be easier for you to let me know when you are hungry," Jeongguk suggests, and Yoongi fishes his phone from his pocket, unlocks the screen, and thumbs through to open an empty contact, then hands it over.

"And if I want snacks?"

Jeongguk takes the phone, glancing at Yoongi for just a brief moment to smirk, before looking down and muttering, "I have already purchased the items on your list, and if you would like, I can bring all the snacks here. If there is anything else you crave, just let me know and I will add it to the shopping list."

"Alright," Yoongi concedes with a sigh as Jeongguk hands his phone back. Yoongi snatches it and slides it back into his pocket, then continues to glance around the room.

"I will leave you to it," Jeongguk says, turning on his heels before adding, "and if you would like to go for a swim, please feel free. I bought a set of shorts in case you didn't pack any. It's in the dresser, which you are welcome to store your things in."

Yoongi nods and hums in response, then stands stiff with his arms hanging at his sides, unsure what to do with himself as Jeongguk leaves. A swim does sound nice, but he hesitates, letting his gaze drift around the room. He supposes it couldn't hurt to take a dip and get a little sunshine. There really is not much else to do, and although Yoongi has a laptop packed in his suitcase and can always find something to stream, he really is not in the mood to watch anything.

"Everything feels like a concession," he mutters under his breath as he kicks away his bent sneakers and pads over to the dresser. "For once, I just want to feel relaxed."

And if that is not reason enough to take a swim, he really does not know what is.

Although the furniture seems somewhat contemporary, the dresser has a vintage look, designed like older pieces of furniture with ornate iron fastenings, but rounded edges. Yoongi opens the top drawer and finds a folded pile of black cloth, which he lifts and discovers is the shorts Jeongguk had mentioned.

Although they are longer, they are also rather tight, and Yoongi snickers to himself, wondering if they provide more coverage than boxer briefs – which he has aplenty, and could have worn. He strips down, out of his light blue jeans and black briefs, and shimmies one leg at a time into the shorts, pulling them high and adjusting the crotch.

"Good enough," he mutters as he crosses the room and enters through the only other door, feeling around for a light switch before finding one and flipping it up. The bathroom is spacious, with a shower stall – containing the toiletries he lamented leaving behind in the old bathroom – and a large sink with an overhead mirror. Above the toilet is a shelf holding rows of towels, and he grabs one, switches off the light, and shuffles out.

Yoongi makes his way to the door and exits the bungalow, leaving it unlocked since Jeongguk did not provide him with a key, and he walks over to the pool. The end closest to his new home appears to be the deep end – which Yoongi thinks is quite suitable for the situation he has found himself in – and he decides he is not eager to jump in all at once, so he walks around to the far end, where a small set of steps sits nestled in the corner closest to the back porch of the hanok.

A light breeze gusts by, covering Yoongi in goosebumps, and he wonders if perhaps it is getting too cold to take a swim. Already, the day is beginning to wane, the sky turning a golden hue. Yoongi shuffles over to the steps and dips his toe into the water, snickering to himself because of course their pool is heated. Why wouldn't the mayor, who lives in a beautiful home with his beautiful wife out on this beautiful stretch of land, not have a heated fucking inground pool?

The water feels perfect, and Yoongi peels off the plain white tee he had been wearing and flings it and his towel over to a wicker chair with white padding that sits a few feet away. Briefly, Yoongi wonders if it is likely that anyone might join him, but considering Namjoon is unwell and the other two live in the kitchen, glued to their glasses of wine, he finds it unlikely.

Good, he thinks. All the better.

Yoongi starts slow, walking one step at a time while the water licks his ankles – cool on the very surface but warm just below. Then, with a deep breath out, and a deep breath in, he falls forward, skimming the surface as he lowers little by little until he is somewhat wading, somewhat walking, sinking down into a half-seated position hovering just above the floor.

Below the surface of the water, everything is calm and peaceful – a gentle roar of nothingness, heavy and weightless and so, perfectly alone. Above, the water sways, dips, and peaks, casting light and shadow in ever-changing patterns, glimmering and fading, ebbing and flowing. He wishes he could sit down here much longer than his body allows, and he lets out air gradually, expanding his diaphragm slowly, slowly, slowly, until his lungs begin to burn with the need for oxygen.

Yoongi lets the rest of his air out in a huff as he stands in shallow enough water that it rests at his hips, making his torso cool instantly in the evening air. A chill rocks through him, quaking in a shiver that feels so visceral – makes him feel so alive. And, with a smile, he spins and squats, walking with the water to his shoulders until, little by little, he can stand tall again with only his neck and head sticking out.

As the sun gradually works its way closer to the horizon, setting the sky ablaze in pink and gold, Yoongi swims and swims, spinning onto his back for a few laps before turning onto his front, dolphin-diving below and floating listlessly back to the top. He lays on his back and lets the water rock him to and fro, drifting with no direction – with no care in the world. He closes his eyes, he listens to birds and insects, and he simply exists.

The sound of the back door to the hanok closing stirs Yoongi, and he opens his eyes, body dipping into the water as his muscles respond to the feeling of surprise. Namjoon shuffles down the deck, along the path, and disappears into the trees, running much faster than he had the other night.

Strange, Yoongi thinks, that he is out for a run when he is unwell. Perhaps he is feeling better. Or, perhaps he is the foolish type who likes to push himself too far when all he needs is rest.

Or…perhaps he really is in a rut.

His fever – and whatever else he experiences during that time – could come and go the way Yoongi's does, building and fading gradually until it hits hard all at once, debilitating and overwhelming, or whatever alphas experience.

Yoongi continues to float, but the weightlessness feels stifled; his limbs are just a little too heavy. The euphoria has been tamped down, and he begins to slowly spin and walk around somewhat mindlessly, unsure what to do with himself. The thought of Namjoon returning and regarding him feels daunting…but, somehow, the thought of Namjoon returning and pretending he does not exist feels worse.

With small, bouncy steps, Yoongi returns to the steps in the corner of the pool, standing tall as the water pours down his torso and turns cold. Goosebumps cover his skin, and he breathes deep, relaxing breaths as he exits and pads over to the chair for the fluffy white towel that lays in a pile, tangled with his shirt.

Yoongi picks up the towel and starts with his shoulders, rubbing away water while standing with his head leaned just forward enough that the water drips onto the tan gunite floor. He rubs the towel over his arms and down his legs, not worrying too much since his shorts are sopping wet; he really just wants to get his shirt back on so he can dry his hair a little and then wrap the towel around his hips.

As he flings the towel aside and reaches for his tee, the sounds of feet tromping through the woods can be heard behind him. He holds the garment in his hand and rotates, curiously searching for the source of the sound. And when Namjoon breaks through the trees – off path – Yoongi sucks in a breath and holds it for safekeeping.

Namjoon shines in the faint rays of the quickly setting sun, hair stuck to his forehead in stalactites of sweat. His black athletic tank and shorts cling to his skin, outlining firm muscle and soft curves; he looks like a modern depiction of a god, chiseled in stone, preserved in all his glory, too good to be true.

As the musky-sweet stench of chamomile wafts from Yoongi, he turns his head away quickly and begins to shove his arms into his shirt, punching material before finding the wrong holes and then the right ones. He swallows a lump and stares ahead at the wooden deck of the hanok, waiting anxiously for Namjoon to pass and go back inside. But instead, the footsteps advance, slowing in step and at war with the accelerated pace at which Yoongi's heart pounds.

"Hey," Namjoon mutters, making Yoongi gasp, and he turns, feeling his face warm as Namjoon approaches. "Are you done already?"

Yoongi's entire nervous system screeches to a halt as he does his best not to notice the dips and curves of pectorals and abdominals, and so, so many muscles his foggy brain fails to cling to the names of. Somewhat frantically, his tongue pushes and pulls inside his mouth, forming consonants and vowels that never find sound, until finally, he mutters, "Huh?"

To his surprise, Namjoon chuckles – a soft thing with barely any sound following an abrupt gust of air, accompanied by gentle dimples creasing his cheeks. It is absolutely devastating, and Yoongi heavy-blinks and pleads silently with himself to get his shit together and think clearly.

"Are you done swimming?" Namjoon clarifies. "I was going to jump in."

All at once, Yoongi spirals. On the one hand, it would be an actual dream come true to swim with Namjoon – to be weightless and wet, and engulfed in his scent. But on the other hand – the practical hand that reminds him that Namjoon is unattainable and not his – determines that all of that is an absolute fucking nightmare.

What if the sight of Namjoon's bare chest causes Yoongi to produce slick, filling the atmosphere with his arousal? No, he thinks. Swimming with Namjoon is off the table.

And even as he deliberates, searching the darkening sky for answers, warm musk laced with sweet, tangy tangerine tickles at his senses and sends him reeling. He needs to get away, fast.

"Y-yeah," Yoongi mutters. "I feel kinda tired. I might shower and turn in."

Namjoon's brows knit ever so slightly, and Yoongi does not let himself dwell on it – pushes out the thought that Namjoon might be disappointed, of all things. As he takes a step back and lifts his hand to give a weak wave, he mutters, "Nice pool, though. Thanks for letting me swim."

A weird thing to say, Yoongi considers, since Namjoon did not really let him do anything; he is a guest in this house and was given swim shorts. But the words are already out there and it feels weird to take them back.

"Use it all you'd like," Namjoon responds politely, reaching for the bottom hem of his shirt and lifting.

And with that, Yoongi turns quickly, nearly tripping over his own feet to scamper away, back to the bungalow. He imagines he can feel Namjoon's gaze on him as he retreats, swallowing a lump of determination and disappointment as he reaches for the knob. He will not turn back and see for himself; he cannot do that.

Yoongi steps inside quickly and leans his back against the closing door, allowing his body and gravity to do the work as he sinks into the cold surface and closes his eyes. He needs to stop swooning over Namjoon; these feelings – whether a product of his heat, or genuine, or some dreadful place in between – are no good. They can only cause him hurt, in the long run. He needs to steel his heart and stop pining over the alpha who can never be his.

Days pass in the bungalow with Jeongguk bringing him breakfast, lunch, and dinner, and keeping him stocked with snacks. The food changes, sometimes braised pork belly, sometimes pizza. Each meal comes with tea and water, and a packet of bupropion in case Yoongi feels any swelling or pain. He lets the medicine pile up on the small wooden table.

Yoongi's heat is beginning to hit hard, keeping him bedridden during the day. He peels himself out of the sheets when the sun begins to set to swim by himself, desperate to calm his nerves. Then he showers and returns to the bed. When Jeongguk stops by with meals, he switches out the sheets and towels, keeping Yoongi stocked with anything he may need.

But what he really needs, deep down, is the scent and comfort of an alpha. He needs to nestle and cuddle; needs to smell and lick and feel. Already traces of Namjoon are dwindling, and he finds himself desperately rubbing his face against the thick fur blanket, in search of more.

In the past, Yoongi has been able to tamp down these urges, never having had a tangible person on his mind while his hormones rage. But this time, he aches and yearns for the man whose scent is faint on the fur – only present enough to provide an illusion of comfort, driving him mad when his thighs clench together, and he leaks with wanton need.

Yoongi has no idea how late it is when a light knocking on the door that is very clearly not Jeongguk stirs him from a restless sleep. Outside, the sky is dark, and he cannot fathom who may need him at this hour.

"Hang on," Yoongi groans as he sits up and begins to push at the sheet, tangled in fabric and sweat, drowsy and disoriented. "Just a moment."

Yoongi stumbles when he gets to his feet, breathing shallowly and attempting to press forward despite how badly his body wants to sink down, down, down to the floorboards, and seep into the earth. He reaches for the knob and turns, finding his hand is too sweaty and rubbing his palm against his briefs in order to try again.

It occurs to Yoongi in a brief, passing thought that he is completely undressed, answering the door in his underwear, but he has neither the heart nor mind to care. When he finally gets a grip on the knob to twist and pull, he lets his eyes rake up the body of his guest, to his face, taking several moments to process the sight before him.

"Yoongi?" Namjoon asks softly, covered head to toe in soft black cotton – a hoodie pulled over his head, and matching joggers.

Yoongi hums in response, not entirely certain that Namjoon really is standing before him; could he be lucid dreaming? Does it always feel so real?

"Can I—I wanted to talk to you. Is now a bad time?"

"I'm…not fully awake," Yoongi mutters. Then he chuckles, shoulders and stomach bouncing as he asks, "Am I awake? Are you a dream? This is a weird dream. Ugh, this heat is making me crazy."

"I'm—" Namjoon begins, hesitates, and shifts on his feet, eyes searching past Yoongi's head.

Yoongi thinks his pupils are blown wide, that his nostrils are flared, but of course they would be; dream Namjoon would desire him.

"Maybe I should come back another time."

With a shrug, Yoongi backs into the room, deciding that he may as well let Namjoon in; he has no idea when, in the foreseeable future, he might feel better. He pads over to a cushion and allows his body to bend and crash down into it, catching himself with his palms against the floor before he can topple completely. Namjoon enters the space and softly closes the door behind him, then he takes a much more graceful seat on the cushion to Yoongi's right.

"I was thinking…" Namjoon says, trailing off as he glances around the room, seemingly unable to hold his gaze on Yoongi. "I don't know if you know this, but I began my rut."

Yoongi laughs softly to himself, though what he finds funny, he is not certain. "Sucks to be you," he mutters with a sigh, feeling sorry for anyone who may be feeling as awful as he feels in this moment.

"I wasn't expecting it to happen, but I think it came about from…in the woods…when we were running. Your smell, and…my instincts…I—I don't know. I'm sorry, this must be awkward."

Gradually, as if ice water were trickling down from above, onto his head and pulling him from the fog of his heat, Yoongi begins to become acutely aware of the fact that this conversation is real – that he is definitely not dreaming. He watches Namjoon with wide, eager eyes, feeling a dizzying euphoria blanket him as their musks and scents mingle in the air.

"Ok," is all he can bring himself to say in response.

Namjoon chuckles, light and soft, just like the day at the pool, sending Yoongi's heart haywire. And Namjoon has to know; the way his scent hangs in the air, clinging to every corner and surface, it is unmistakable how Yoongi feels.

"I wonder if perhaps this would be a good time to…you know…" Namjoon says, cheeks darkening with blush.

"Procreate," Yoongi blurts with a heavy scoff.

Namjoon's cheeks dimple just enough to devastate as he says, "Yeah. Procreate."

"I am the most fertile," Yoongi mutters, letting his gaze drift to Namjoon's sweater, to a spot that blurs as he lets his vision drift, then sharpens as he blinks.

"And I'm the most virile," Namjoon adds.

"This is probably an opportune time," Yoongi mutters.

Silence hangs, but, for once, it is not uncomfortable. Namjoon seems to be intentionally delivering a calming scent, and Yoongi takes a deep, fortifying breath.

"Tonight is likely too soon," Namjoon responds, voice small.

Yoongi gasps, eyes flying to search Namjoon's face for any hint that he is joking, finding him looking shy.

"Yeah, maybe." Yoongi says, weighing the possibilities. "It would…gods, it would be a huge relief for me, but…maybe it's too soon."

"I'm sorry you're in here alone, dealing with this," Namjoon says, bashful. "I was too worried about, well…having you across the hall. The smell…"

"I get it," Yoongi responds. And he really does; being away from Namjoon has been for the best, he thinks. Especially with his treacherous heart desiring more than just the alpha comfort he could provide. Yoongi finds himself curious to know Namjoon too, as a person. Horrifying; it must be stopped.

"Tomorrow?" Yoongi suggests, half-joking, and Namjoon regards him with wide eyes, visibly swallows, and then nods in quick, shallow movements.

"Alright," Namjoon says, wetting his lips and standing quickly. "See you tomorrow, Yoongi."

And then, without another word or glance back, Namjoon makes for the door and exits, leaving Yoongi to spiral and spiral.

Jeongguk arrives bright and early with a bowl of fruit, water, and tea. He mutters something about Yoongi refraining from showering, no matter how sweaty he may be, and he hands over a packet of vitamins, waiting to watch Yoongi take them.

He also brings incense sticks and candles that he lights, ornate figures and shimmering crystals that he sets here and there, wreaths of dried plants that he tacks around, and soft, satin black sheets. It smells faintly like a smoky forest, but also a valley of flowers.

"Namjoon will return within the hour," Jeongguk says once he is done, holding the old bedding in his arms. "It will just be the two of you; the ritual is modern enough that there is no need for an audience. Is there anything else you need?"

Within the hour, in broad daylight. Yoongi swallows thickly. "N-no, thank you Jeongguk."

"Best of luck," Jeongguk says with a nod, "I pray for your fertility, and to your healthy body, mind, and spirit."

"Oh—okay, thanks," Yoongi mutters, stunned and unsure what to say.

With a bow of his head, Jeongguk departs, leaving Yoongi to stare at his fruit bowl.

Namjoon's knocking is recognizable now; two short taps and three quick ones. Yoongi is sitting at the table finishing his fruit and tea, and he calls, "Come in," with a quaking voice.

Seconds pass before the door opens, and Yoongi wonders if Namjoon is just as nervous as he is. He walks in wearing a black satin robe, and he kicks off sandals as he closes the door, then approaches with soft steps. He kneels beside Yoongi, and glances around the room for a brief moment before finally speaking.

"Are you ready, little omega?"

The nickname makes Yoongi's head spin, and he heavy-blinks and nods, letting his gaze drift and return.

"As ready as I'll ever be."

With a lift of one eyebrow, Namjoon says, "You don't smell ready," and Yoongi absolutely spirals. He attempts to find the words to say, failing around each syllable before Namjoon continues, saying, "I can change that, don't worry," in a voice that is deep and inviting and far too enticing for his own good.

Yoongi pushes away from the small table and stands, wearing only black briefs and a black tee. The material clings to his skin with sweat, but he has followed directions and has not showered. He makes his way to the bed and sits on the edge, and Namjoon turns, gets onto his hands and knees, and crawls.

No, not crawls – Namjoon stalks. His gaze is pointed, lips pulled into a sneer, and he slowly makes his way to Yoongi as the bone and muscle in his shoulders rise and sink hypnotically.

The dark material of the satin robe falls open, showing hints of chest, and Yoongi allows himself to look. When Namjoon gets close, he nuzzles his cheek against Yoongi's knee, and sparks fly inside him, building the aching need, causing every muscle between his legs to twitch and flutter as he produces slick.

"That's more like it," Namjoon groans, making a show of sniffing the air.

"Gods, you're infuriating," Yoongi mutters as his eyelids flicker.

"Lay down," Namjoon instructs as he sits up and begins to disrobe.

Yoongi nods and backs up, digging his heels as he pushes the blankets away and finds the center of the bed, soft and cool and covered with satin. Namjoon stands, drops the robe to the floor, and Yoongi gasps as he takes in the sight of the alpha nude with his cock hanging heavy and half-hard between his legs.

"Like what you see?" Namjoon teases, and Yoongi laughs, forcing his gaze to reach the ceiling.

"You wish," he responds, breathy and unconvincing.

The mattress dips, and Yoongi's heart becomes frantic. He has to keep reminding himself that this is really happening – that Kim Namjoon is going to breed him. When he allows himself to look at Namjoon, he finds the man towering beside him on his knees, laughing.

"What?" Yoongi asks, petulant.

"So stiff," Namjoon teases, and Yoongi realizes that he is lying in a straight line with his arms flat to his sides, and yeah, sure, he probably looks really funny. "Loosen up, omega."

"How do you expect me to do that?" Yoongi asks somewhat indignantly, tilting his head up, off the pillow, as if that will give him a better view of the man.

Without another word, Namjoon reaches down, takes Yoongi's plain black tee in both hands, and – with a growl that roars from deep in his chest – he rips it wide open, causing Yoongi to gasp and scramble as the alpha holds what is left of the material, trapping him somewhat suspended with his heels digging desperately against the mattress.

Slick trickles from him, mingling in the air with tangerine and musk – dizzying. Arousal floods and floods to the tips of his fingers and toes, his cock twitches half-hard, and his breaths heave from his lungs. He smolders under Namjoon's heated gaze, and his body begins to sink, pliant and eager. So, so eager.

Namjoon releases Yoongi's tattered shirt and leans close, caging him in with his arms and sniffing just above his shoulder, making Yoongi instinctively tilt his head to give him more access.

"Finally," Namjoon groans, voice hazy and somewhat distant, covering Yoongi in goosebumps. "I finally get to have you."

ahhhh, are we having fun, yet??? gosh, i love them so much. fun fact: this fic was written for a fest that had a 20k word cap for one shots and 40k word cap for two shots, and i ended up running out of fucking space. i went into a trance and wrote this fic like my life depended on it. and i have zero regrets.

thank you so much for reading!!! reblogs and comments are the lifeblood of this hellsite and likes are appreciated too!!! i love you!!!

tags: @codeinebelle @dasexydevitt13 @giriiboyy @mgthecat @moonleeai @m1sss1mp @spookyminyunki @yoongoboongo0🌙 comment or dm to be added to the tag list!

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#namgi #namgi a/b/o #namjoon smut #yoongi smut #alpha namjoon #omega yoongi #bts a/b/o #bts angst #bts smut #fic: one day at a time

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