#though i might not be able to post them on the day TuT

[cetaitlaverite]

Why All This Music?

Masters of the Air - Rosie Rosenthal x OC

A/N: i'm back!! it's been a while since i've written anything, so i'm both excited and a little bit nervous about all this, but i thought i'd share it all the same. without further adieu, i'm incredibly pleased to introduce you to freddie, the latest of my loves. i hope you'll love her too <3

(the link to the masterlist is here)

01. Hotshot Wireless Operators

The evening was hot, the air was thick, and Freddie was blushing just as much because of the humidity as because of the attention.

She had been back at RAF Thorpe Abbotts for all of a day after her three days of leave and already she was being lorded as a hero. Secretly, she thought the reason for the celebrations was more because of the relief to have something worth celebrating than it was because of her actual achievement, but regardless all of the WAAFs in her section had their dress uniforms on, their hair pressed into pristine curls, and their arms around Freddie’s shoulders as they steered her in the direction of the officers’ club, as though a measly three days back home in Oxford had made her forget.

Warm, excited voices were insistent in her ears, different sets of hands tugging at her jacket or her curls or her hands, vying for her attention. She’d never felt like more of a celebrity.

“- going to be so excited when they hear, Freddie! You’re going to get a promotion to be sure!” one of the girls, Paddy, was exclaiming.

“Then you’ll be a flight officer!” added Amy, sharing a grin with Paddy. “Really, you should be a squadron officer - goodness knows you’re far more qualified than Jones is - but how fancy does ‘Flight Officer Leroy’ sound?”

Freddie shared a look with Millie, close on her left hip as always, and had to look at the grass in front of her so she wouldn’t laugh. The lack of light because of the blackout made it difficult to see anything, much less the dark ground ahead of her, so she focused on what might as well have been the abyss beneath her feet and let the conversation carry on without her.

“If she gets promoted, Freddie’ll be a translator, not a wireless operator anymore, so I don’t suppose she’ll be with us at all, girls,” Millie said as gently as she was able, offering a conciliatory smile to Paddy and Amy.

“But you’ll still be at Thorpe Abbotts, won’t you, Freddie?” questioned a timid voice from the back of the group.

Freddie turned to find Emma, their newest addition, freshly eighteen and conscripted to the role of aircraftwoman second class. She was as shy as they came and made a habit of making herself invisible, but Freddie couldn’t deny her fondness for the newest WAAF in their ranks.

Freddie offered her a tiny smile, hoping it was maybe just a little bit reassuring. “I’ve not heard anything about a promotion at all yet, Emma, so all of this is just conjecture.”

“Are you girls planning on making a night of this walk? Jesus Christ!” called a loud voice from far up ahead, standing in the doorway of the officers’ club. “We said we’d get here for 2000 hours yet you lot have taken damn near half an hour just to walk here!”

Millie laughed, completely unashamed, and called back, “What, have you got somewhere you need to be after this, Jem?”

In spite of her heckling, Millie looped her arm through Freddie’s and picked up the pace, forcing the rest of their group to do the same.

“Honestly,” Jem was tutting when they got within hearing distance. “‘Let’s go out and celebrate!’ you all said, and then the only celebrating you look prepared to do is out on the lawns!”

“Oh, Jem, they’re excited!” Freddie appealed to her with a grin. “Let them be. There’s so little to be excited about these days.”

Jem rolled her eyes affectionately and pushed her way into the midst of the group, taking up her post on Freddie’s right while Millie retained the left.

“Well, we can all be excited inside, can’t we? Where there’s music and beer and fresh meat.” Alongside this last statement she wiggled her eyebrows.

At this, Millie perked right up. “Oh, yeah! I forgot you haven’t met the new crews yet, Fred. They came the day after you went on leave, which is such a shame, because that was also the day Dye made twenty-five. Anyway, we all met them in the officers’ bar and a couple aren’t too sore on the eyes.”

Freddie laughed. “Got your eye on any of them, Mils?”

Millie shot her a wink. “Of course.”

Freddie was still smiling widely when Jem pushed the door to the officers’ club open for them. All at once, a wave of warmth and chatter washed over her, bringing that flush back into her cheeks with full force, especially when Paddy and Amy started to cheer for her again. They had, it seemed, made it their mission to make sure absolutely everyone in the officers’ club knew that there was cause for celebration tonight and that the cause herself was among their ranks.

“Everybody clear away from the bar!” Paddy was calling in that thick Northern Irish drawl of hers - the one which, incidentally, had gifted her her nickname. “We have nothing short of a war hero in tow and we’re expecting a Victoria Cross in the post any day now!”

“Ladies!” called Bucky Egan, rising to his full height from where he’d been leaning on the bar. “There you are. We been missing you!”

“Looking this good takes time, Major,” Millie told him with a conspiratorial pat to his shoulder.

“Not for you, Millie - you wake up looking just like this, I bet,” cut in Benny DeMarco with an easy smirk.

“Think about what I look like when I wake up often, do you, Benny?” Millie wondered around a roll of her eyes and a poorly concealed grin.

“Every second since the moment I met you,” he replied with a wink.

Millie laughed. “Noted, Benny. Noted.”

“So who’s your war hero?” wondered Buck Cleven, leaning back lazily against the bar.

“Yeah,” added Bucky. “And why do we gotta clear the bar for him?”

“For her,” Jem corrected, looking like she was ready to pull up her sleeves and start elbowing her way past them. “Freddie’s our war hero.”

“Or heroine, I suppose,” added Amy.

Freddie was already blushing furiously, but when the eyes of all of the airmen gathered, both those who had engaged in the conversation and those who hadn’t, swivelled to her, expectantly awaiting an explanation of what she’d done to earn her title, her cheeks felt like they were on fire. “It was nothing, really -”

“It was not nothing!” Paddy exclaimed immediately. And with that she leaped into a dramatic retelling. “After a dogfight, a German fighter must’ve gotten himself disoriented. He was flying over England but had convinced himself it was France. When I started receiving him on the radio I had no idea what to do, of course, and I started panicking and damn near started crying because I was so scared. But then Freddie - who, it turns out, speaks perfect German - took the receiver from me and started directing this German fighter in like she does it everyday. Cool and calm as you like, she guides him in, and then the second he’s down we’ve got him caught and captured and his plane is being taken in for analysis and now we have the newest German fighter in our hands to find out how it works.”

Amy was grinning and she leaped in to add, “Say what you like, but our RAF fighters are going to owe a lot to our Freddie when they know how to dogfight these new German Messers because we have one of them.”

“Yeah, well, we’re hoping we’ll know a lot about the German Air Force in general when the brass have finished interrogating the Jerry who fell for the whole charade,” commented Jem with a wry grin.

“Well,” started Bucky, with a wide grin of his own, clapping his hands together, “seems like maybe you really do need a drink, Fred.”

Freddie’s eyes had long since found the floor, embarrassed by the fussing, and only now did she look up to shrug.

“No,” Millie said, pointing a finger at Bucky. “I’m buying her first drink, not you.”

“Millie, you’re so mean to me,” Bucky teased her.

“Go find a corner and cry about it,” Millie replied easily. Turning to Freddie as she started to push through the gathered airmen, she asked, “Beer?”

“Lemonade,” Freddie corrected.

Millie scowled. “No.”

“What do you mean, ‘no’?”

“I mean ‘no’,” Millie answered steadily. “I’m not buying you lemonade.”

“Why not?!”

“You can have beer or you can have wine.”

“I’ll buy it myself, then.”

“Freddie,” Millie said slowly, placing both hands on her shoulders very seriously, “you are not allowed to drink lemonade tonight. Okay? I’m getting you a beer.”

“But I don’t want beer,” Freddie protested, frowning.

“Fred, you can’t drink lemonade,” Bucky re-entered the conversation.

Freddie turned to him with raised eyebrows and arms crossed. “Why not? Buck doesn’t drink!”

“Yeah, and it’s my least favourite thing about him,” Bucky countered.

“John, leave her alone -” Buck attempted to chastise him.

Millie gave Freddie a meaningful look before she turned away from her and pushed through the crowd to make a space for herself at the bar.

“I just want lemonade,” Freddie muttered, crossing her arms across her chest.

“Freddie, tell me you’re not trying to drink lemonade again,” Jem cut in.

Freddie threw her hands up in exasperation. “What’s wrong with lemonade?!”

“You’re practically a war hero, Freddie - you have to drink beer! That’s what all the hotshot pilots drink when they come back from some flash mission -”

Bucky cut right across Paddy, “That’s what all of us ‘hotshot pilots’ drink all the time, Paddy.”

Freddie turned to them both with her chin tilted up. “Well, I am not a hotshot pilot.”

“Just a hotshot wireless operator, right, Fred?” Bucky teased.

“Exactly,” Freddie agreed. “And hotshot wireless operators drink lemonade.”

“No, we don’t,” Jem laughed.

“Excuse me, ma’am,” spoke a voice from behind Freddie. It wasn’t a voice she recognised, and she liked to think with all of her accumulated experience talking to both the pilots and the radio operators over the radio to get them safely out of the base and then back again she recognised voices rather well.

Turning, she found a pair of earnest blue eyes and a shy smile tilted above a proffered glass.

“Hi,” Freddie greeted softly in what was almost a chirp.

“Hi,” the man - one of the new pilots, by the looks of his insignia - replied. He shook his head a little bit, as though to clear it. “I hope you don’t mind, ma’am, but I couldn’t help overhearing your conversation and I thought - well, here’s your lemonade.” He offered the glass to her again.

He was handsome, this pilot who had bought her lemonade when no one else would. Not necessarily handsome in a film star, striking way, but in a gentle, endearing way. The kind of handsome which made her heart flutter instead of stop - which was quite lovely, really, because a lot of things made her heart stop these days and none of them were good.

“Oh,” Freddie mumbled, accepting the glass of lemonade from him. It was icy cold to the touch but his fingers were warm where they grazed lightly against hers. “Thank you,” she told him.

He smiled again and her breath got a little bit stuck in her throat. “Nothing at all, ma’am.”

She wasn’t sure what to say next, didn’t want him to leave but didn’t want to force him to stay. But when he inclined his head in farewell first to her, then presumably to Buck and Bucky still stood leaning against the bar beside her, she was so desperate to get him to linger, even if just for a few more words, that she blurted, “I’m Freddie.” Her voice came out sounding high pitched and girlish to her own ears. She wanted so badly to grasp at the air and shove the words back into her mouth that she might even have given it a try if he hadn’t smiled at her again.

“Nice to meet you, Freddie,” he answered her. “I’m Rosie.”

“Rosie,” she repeated with a shy sort of smile. “That’s a sweet name.”

Rosie smiled wider. She had dimples. “Thank you, ma’am. Comes from my last name - Rosenthal.”

Freddie nodded, stuck on his smile. “You don’t have to call me ‘ma’am’,” she replied after a beat in which she realised she was probably supposed to be speaking. “Just Freddie is fine. That’s how everyone knows me.”

“Alright,” Rosie conceded. “Freddie it is.”

Freddie couldn’t seem to look away from his eyes. She was sure she’d never seen eyes so blue. Even in the warm, low lighting of the officers’ bar they were somehow still glowing, bright and kind and alive.

“So, uh,” Rosie started, with a certain degree of awkwardness.

Freddie forced her eyes away from his, conscious she must have been staring.

“They said you were on leave?” Rosie finished, fiddling with the pint of beer in his hand.

“Yes,” Freddie confirmed, fiddling with the straw in her drink to give herself something to focus on other than the beautiful, striking blue of the pair of eyes currently awaiting her answer. “I went home for three days, to Oxford.”

“That must’ve been nice,” he replied. He hated how he suddenly had so very little to say. She must have thought he was so, so boring.

Freddie couldn’t help it. She giggled at the awkwardness.

“Yes,” she replied again. “Yes, it was wonderful. Strange to be home, to be sure - I haven’t visited since Christmas - but it was especially lovely to see my dogs again. I don’t get any letters from them, see.”

Rosie chuckled lightly, nodding along with her, relieved at the release of the uncertainty. “Right,” he said. “They’re not big on writing letters, then?”

“They’re dogs of few words,” Freddie agreed with a grin.

“How many do you have?” he questioned next.

“Dogs?” Freddie wondered. “Two. The big one’s Bruno and the little one’s Earnie, both boys. A German Shepherd and a Westie.”

“What are they like?”

Freddie’s eyes glinted. “Trouble.” She loved talking about her dogs.

“I always wanted a dog,” Rosie confided in her, tilting his head to the side and slightly down to let him meet her eyes more easily. Well, more easily for him; the increased eye contact was torturous for her. “But where I’m from, in Brooklyn, we always lived in an apartment. No pets allowed.”

Freddie gasped. “That’s tragic.”

Rosie grinned. “I know. Someone oughta fix that rule.”

She sipped on her lemonade, nodding, contemplating. Instinctively, her eyes found the floor.

Rosie watched her, tapping his fingers against his glass of beer.

He opened his mouth to say something more - desperate to say something, anything, really, that might get her to smile again. Those dimples of hers - if he hadn’t signed up to go to war already he knew he would’ve enlisted just on their behalf.

But whatever he was about to say never made it out. It was for the best, probably, since he couldn’t guarantee it wouldn’t have been something incredibly forward, some grand statement about her startling prettiness which she was bound to have heard a million times before. Instead, he was swiftly cut off by Millie, returning from the bar with a pint of beer in each hand. “Fred, I got your beer, and you are going to like it, god damn it, even if I have to pour it down your throat myself.”

Freddie flushed and turned to Millie, conscious of Rosie’s eyes on her profile, and watched as realisation dawned on her best friend’s face. “Oh.”

“I have lemonade,” Freddie said. She wanted to punch herself in the face for that one. All that progress she’d made in proving herself decidedly not a weirdo and she was right back where she started.

Millie laughed, her eyes flicking between Freddie and Rosie. “Is that right? And who do I have to blame for it?”

“That would be me, ma’am,” Rosie answered, and Freddie noticed a glint in his eye.

“Rosie,” Millie replied with a tut, proving Freddie’s assumption correct that the two had already met. “Now why would you do that? You’ll only encourage her!”

Rosie shook his head with a light little laugh and Freddie’s chest deflated. “Got your eye on any of them, Mils?” she recalled herself saying not thirty minutes before. And Millie had replied, “Of course.” And why wouldn’t she have her eye on him? Why shouldn’t she? If Millie deserved anything in her life it was a Rosie. True, Freddie didn’t know him all that well, but that earnestness in his eyes, that uncertainty with which he’d approached her just to do something kind, told her everything she needed to know about the type of man he was. A type of man worthy of her Millie.

In front of her, the jovial conversation between Rosie and Millie raged on. “I just figured,” Rosie was saying, explaining why he had bought Freddie’s lemonade, “war heroes should get to choose what they have to drink, otherwise what’s the point of being one?”

Millie laughed along with Rosie’s joke and Freddie’s eyes sought Benny. “Benny,” she started, quiet, and that was all she needed to say.

“Over in that corner,” Benny told her with a kind but secret smile, inclining his head towards a darkened corner with an unoccupied table close to the wall and a Siberian Husky lying quietly beneath one of the chairs.

Freddie let out all of her breath and gave him a smile. “Thank you,” she told him quietly, and slipped away while Millie and Rosie were still joking about whatever it was they were joking about.

Freddie found refuge with Benny’s dog, Meatball, often when she felt overwhelmed. Meatball was a nice mix of her two dogs back home in having the pale coat of her West Highland White Terrier and the large stature of her German Shepherd and he always served to make her feel a little bit more settled when the world felt just a little bit too unstable. He always accepted her kindly and with little fuss, too. Perhaps he was used to her by now or perhaps he simply appreciated her attention when those who would usually give it to him were off dancing or searching for dance partners or engaging in all kinds of drunken revelry.

Freddie forwent sitting atop the chair Meatball had claimed as his shelter and instead sat beside him on the floor. The table and chairs were pristine and untouched; she figured the last time human feet had ventured to this part of the room was when the cleaner had passed through earlier.

“I’m feeling overwhelmed again,” she confessed to Meatball, fingers curling gently into the hair around his scruff.

Meatball spared her a quick glance before resting his head in her lap. Freddie smiled softly and stroked over his head.

“Thanks for letting me share your little corner,” she added. A place she felt she better belonged. Better to take refuge in dark corners and let the others have a chance, she told herself. She’d already had hers, no matter that she’d lost it.

Freddie didn’t realise she had an audience. Over by the bar, several pairs of eyes had watched her go and were now watching her fuss over Meatball.

Rosie’s eyes sought Millie’s and she smiled sadly, shaking her head. “It wasn’t anything you said,” she reassured him. “Or anything you did. You just need to be patient with our Fred.”

“She’s not one for romance, is all,” Bucky put in, halfway through turning back to the bar to order another beer. “Wouldn’t take it personal if I was you, Rosie.”

Jem scoffed, loud and outraged and all but infuriated. “She is one for romance. What a thing to say!” When Bucky didn’t turn back to her, she grabbed him by the lapel and forced him to. “It’s not my place to say why she is the way she is but maybe you’d know if you hadn’t been so dismissive the first time she turned you down for a dance.”

“She turns down everyone for a dance,” Bucky dismissed Jem. “I, for one, ain’t losing sleep over it.”

Jem stared at him coldly and Millie let out a sigh. “Sometimes,” Millie said, and all of a sudden she sounded exhausted, “you Americans would do well to remember there was a war going on before you entered it.”

“And what the fuck’s that supposed to mean, Mils?” Bucky demanded.

Millie turned cool, bored eyes on him. “You’re a smart guy, Bucky. I’m sure you’ll figure it out.” With that, she crossed the room to Freddie, both beers still in hand, and sat down on the floor beside her. Wordlessly, she commenced sipping at each beer in turn and listened to whatever it was Freddie had to say, while the rest of the group turned back to each other and tried to talk about something else.

[footy-fictionist]

Celebration - Nico Schlotterbeck

Picture by Christian Schulze

Pairing: Nico Schlotterbeck x female reader

Warnings: fluff, playful teasing, reader laughs at Nico, badly translated German (google is my friend here)

Word Count: 966

Note: As always, English is not my first language. This is based on the game against Leipzig. It's completely made up though and very much fictional. It's mostly just the day after the game and the way Nico and reader spend their morning. Please do not copy or publish my work, reblogging is completely fine though.

It’s the day after the game against Leipzig. She’s in bed with Nico, who has the day off after winning the game and playing an incredibly important role. He’s laying up against his pillow whilst she rests on his chest. His phone is in his hand as he scrolls through the multiple posts he’s been tagged in. Her eyes are still closed and every time she moves, he checks to see if she’s still asleep or waking up. Soon enough she stirs and her arms tighten around his torso, a clear sign that she’s waking up for real this time. He immediately caresses her back with his free hand, pressing a kiss against her forehead.

“Morgen, meine Liebe."

She mumbles something back only snuggling further into his chest. She presses a kiss right over his heart. He smiles and lays his phone on the side table to wrap both arms around her. She tightens her hand around his shirt, pulling herself up a little more, one leg slotting in between his and pressing her face into the crook of his neck. She shakes a little as Nico laughs at her actions, but he doesn’t hesitate to help her lay comfortably. It might be early in the morning, but nothing comforts her more than being this close to Nico and being able to fully take him in. They both have busy lives, so they make the most of moments like this. It was harder when they didn’t live together.  

Now, everything is perfect. They get to spend more time together whilst also maintaining their jobs and everything around them in their social lives. But nothing beats this feeling. She mumbles something against the skin of his neck, but he can’t make it out at all. He asks her to repeat herself but it ends up as the same gibberish. Instead of pulling her away from her spot in the crook of his neck, he just hums and nods his head, hoping that’s a good enough response. But as she pulls herself back to look at him a little offended, he knows that isn’t the answer she was looking for.

“I tell you that I’m incredibly proud of your performance from yesterday and that I love you. And your reaction is a hum and a nod. That’s rude Niecs.”

"Entschuldigung, Liebe. I couldn’t understand what you said and I didn’t want you to pull away, so I hoped that would be a good enough response. But thank you, I appreciate your support. Ich liebe dich auch.” 

She smiles and nods in agreement to his answer before moving herself back to the comfortable position she was in before. He laughs and helps settle her again, also grabbing his cellphone back to continue scrolling whilst she takes a bit more time to fully wake up whilst being as close to him as possible. After another 15 minutes, she looks up a bit to find him looking at pictures from the game. He was trying to decide which ones to repost. As he was scrolling slowly, she suddenly burst out into a fit of laughter. It startles him a little and he almost drops his phone.

“What? What’s so funny?”

He is incredibly confused, she doesn’t answer him and can’t seem to stop laughing. He’s looking at her like she’s gone insane, which only makes her laugh even harder. It takes a while for her to calm down, a few tears having slipped out from laughing too hard. She grabs his phone from him and scrolls back to one of the pictures. It’s the one of him squatting after saving Werner’s shot with his shoulder. At that moment she hadn’t thought much of it and thought it showed Nico’s passion. But seeing this picture she can’t help but laugh.

“Es tut mir leid, Niecs. But this picture now just looks like you’re taking a poo. I love your passion for the game, but this is too funny.”

Soft giggles still escape her lips as she explains, his face going from confused to offended within seconds. He looks from her back to the picture and back to her. He sees it too now, but doesn’t want to admit it’s funny. It was an instant reaction and he didn’t think of the pictures. He grabs his phone from her hand and puts it back on the side table. Out of nowhere he pushes her onto her back and leaning over her, making her let out a small scream in surprise. 

“You think that’s funny do you? I don’t. I’ll give you something to laugh about though.”

Without warning he starts tickling her sides. She gives a squeal before laughing. She tries to grab his hands to make him stop but he’s too strong. She can’t even push him away with her legs. Tears are rolling down her cheeks as she almost begs him to stop, laughing so hard her tummy hurts. He stops after a few minutes, collapsing on top of her and hiding his face in the crook of her neck this time. The small hiccups from laughing slowly fade away as she now wraps her arms around him. Both are content for a bit before she speaks.

“I love you and your passionate reactions, even if they make me laugh at you. You’re incredible and this just adds to it. Now enough with the mushy stuff, let’s go make some breakfast!”

He reluctantly pulls back a little, only to press his lips to hers. It’s a long kiss followed by a few short kisses, showing her that he loves her just as much. He eventually gets off her and helps her off the bed. They walk to the kitchen hand in hand, not willing to let each other go just yet.

Meine liebe: my love Entschuldiging liebe: I'm sorry/pardon me love Ich liebe dich auch: I love you too Es tut mir leid: I'm sorry

[nothingbutnowhere]

I was trying to see how many days in a row I could post (only three apparently lol pretty bad), but that's because I went to dinner and a concert last night with friends because it was my birthday!! It was really fun and I'm super glad I got to go!! In light of that, I'm working on a fic where price coordinates a whole night with reader and his boys on their birthday (a newly established poly!141 x reader situation, gonna be a longer one).

I've also some other actual smut bouncing around in the the ol noggin besides the honestly baffling amount of fluff I've written so far:

Kyle doing unspeakable things to genderneutral(gn)!reader in public (you're so pretty and he wants everyone to see that you're his >:-))

Cont. below the cut

A fic based off this blurb from This Post: He's told you he sleeps like shit when he's gone and you tut that it's because he doesn't have access to his CPAP (they make travel ones you know). He said it was 'cause he didn't have access to something else and that was the end of that conversation (he went to bend you over the kitchen counter but you slipped away giggling, only to end up tossed over his shoulder on the way to the bedroom)."

Free use thoughts with gn!reader

Reader use Prices's voice to their benefit and the boys weasel themselves into it as they often seem to do. (I wouldn't have to do this if his VA Barry Sloane didn't deliver his lines like that. Who told him he had the right to do that. Honestly.)

Lots more hypervigilant!reader, two blurbs are in the 'masterlist' here

And the thing I have the least amount of experience writing: pet play. Puppy!johnny (or hybrid, idk I can't take hybrids 100% serious tho I only end up writing silly goofy things when I think about it, which isn't bad but not always the vibe) lives rent free in my head. Even though he causes a lot of damage. We're not getting our security deposit back :( But I also love meandom!johnny. And switch!johnny x dom!simon x switch!reader......

One thing to know about me is there's like 5 different versions of any given blorbo kept in jars in my head and I just take turns shaking them around and observing them.

Oh and also ghoap x reader (a threesome x reader is so important to me personally), you tie Johnny up and Simon tells you what to do to take him apart. If you and Johnny are good you get a reward :) (I have a thing about character A telling character B 'behave' I literally cannot tell you why. I'm under an NDA, actually.)

So that's all that nonsense. If I stick with it for the next few months I might be able to cross everything off the list. I'm really not good at consistency but I'm gonna make an attempt.

[madaboutmunson]

Again - Part 18

Part 1 | Part 17 | Part 19 | Full list of Again series links inc AO3 Link

Steddie fic where Steve and Eddie are in their mid 30's and everyone has sort of drifted apart

Notes: Sorry this one is a little late in posting. I had a bit of a strange birthday and got a bit down about it.

Taglist: @adaed5 @grtwdsmwhr @swimmingbirdrunningrock @mightbeasleep, @jewellthebooknerd, @fentiibratzz @rvllybllply2014

================================================

Steve raises his fist to knock, and the last time he remembers being this nervous here was the first time his kids were on his side of the door.

He looks down at the phone clutched tightly in his hand, the screen displaying Eddie's message.

Whatever happens, we'll figure something out. ILY x

He hears a singular bark and a rush of feet toward the door. Then, finally, it swings open, and he's greeted by the beaming smile of Val, but Steve notes he looks a little tired around the eyes.

"Steven!!" He enthuses loudly, grabbing his shoulders and kissing each side of his face, just before he is almost pushed out of the way by a very excitable Beans. Steve ruffles the fur on her head, and she circles his legs until she's perfectly at his heel as Val waves him into the house. 

Steve's stomach swirls with worry as he sits at the kitchen table, and Beans must be able to tell because she rests her chin on his leg as he pets her head gently. Steve laughs awkwardly, "Thanks for letting me come over. I know you're both gonna be so busy with everything now. I just wanted to speak to you both while the kids were at school" His voice drops to a whisper, "Speaking of which...Did you tell the kids yet?"

Val nods in response, "Oh yes, Jenny reminded me that you are almost as bad at keeping delicious secrets as I am. They also had The Talk again," Val adds, "Plus a little extra about it being early. Thought I'd let you know in case you get any questions fired your way about it.”

“Right, got it” Steve nods as Val hands him a very uncharacteristic mug of hot chocolate. Steve’s eyes move to his in question.

“For your nerves, Steven,” Val says fondly, sits opposite and looks from side to side before leaning over the table and dropping his voice to a whisper. “Don’t worry. Your Valentino has been putting in the groundwork for you.” He makes a sure upside-down smile expression on his face, “We’ve got this covered. It only occurred to me the other day that, in some ways, you and I are similar, and I thought maybe Jenny and Eddie might have similarities too. Common ground, even if it is just caring fiercely about you?”

Steve’s stomach swirling turns to a full-blown spin cycle, “Oh Christ, Val. I didn't even think about that. This is going to be so bad.” Steve whimpers quietly.

Valentino tuts and amps up his accent. “No, Steven. Listen to Valentino. It’s going to be ok. She doesn't want to ruin anything for you.”

“Oh no, it’s not that, Val. You don’t understand. You’ve met a much mellower Jenny for the most part” Steve checks over his shoulder and leans in again, “Remember that time Penelope Hasselbank’s mom insulted Corey’s finger painting? Said it looked like a brown blob because he mixed all his paints together?”

Val’s eyes widen as he leans back in his chair, twists the kitchen towel over his shoulder between his fingers, and says quietly in horror, “And then she laughed at it….”

“And then she laughed, Val. For months later, that woman had to continually replace tires because a ‘Masked youth’ kept slashing them, then had to change her cell number because she was getting calls from people asking for a ‘good time’ and to this day, she always looks like she sparkles because of how many times she got glitter bombed at least once a week, at home, at work, on holiday. Remember that?” Steve raises a finger on his hand at Val before submitting the one next to it, “Now times that by two, and put it in the same room.”

“Il mio dio e lo spirito santo” Val says, crossing himself.

“Precisely! Though I trust whatever you’ve done will have helped,” Steve says with as much of a smile as he can muster.

Footsteps approach the kitchen. “Where is he?” Val whispers quickly.

“I’ve hidden him in the back seat of the car,” Steve says, trying not to laugh, but Val's booming laugh makes him completely lose it into a fit of giggles, probably mostly charged by nervous energy.

“And just what are you two laughing about?” Jenny says with a smile leaning in the doorway.

“Nothing!” They reply in unison, and Jenny blows a raspberry.

“Zero out of ten guys. Your worst performance yet.” She sits, and Val brings over her tea, “So Steve, let's hear it.” Val reaches over and taps Steve’s hand in support. 

“Well, as I told you on the phone, things are moving quite quickly between Eddie and me. And I was talking to him the other day about him moving in, but he said he wanted to make sure you and the kids were ok with it first, you know?” Steve manages to look between the table and Jenny, and Val gives him an ok sign of support.

Jenny steeples her fingers and leans forward a little, “Ok.”

“Ok?” Steve asks in surprise.

“Look, I trust you wouldn't put our kids in danger, not for anyone, even if you have clearly gone a little crazy over this guy. I am well aware of how quickly you move, Steve. The kids. I can’t speak for but as far as I’m concerned, ok. On a few conditions though, Steve,” She warns, and Steve gives her his hopeful undivided attention, “If he’s free, and he should make time to be if he’s serious, he attends the dinners, birthday parties, events, whatever. I don't want this guy to be someone I see once and then he changes where I can’t see. He’s in with us, or he’s out, got it?” Steve nods. “He does not ever try to muscle his way in with parenting our kids. Val has coped just fine without treading on your toes. I expect the same from Eddie. I imagine this one goes without saying, but he does not upset our Kids.” Steve shakes his head, “And last of all, he stops hiding in the back seat of your car and gets in here, so I can make my final evaluation.” She says, leaning back in her chair.

Steve and Val exchange a look, and Steve gets out of his seat and scrambles to retrieve Eddie from the car.

Steve can see him lying across the backseat, happily playing that snake game on his phone. Not a care in the world. He gently taps on the window, and Eddie jumps to a sitting position and opens the door.

“Yeah?” He says, looking at Steve with a great big smile.

“Almost,” Steve answers, takes his hand, assists him to his feet, and shuts the car door.

Eddie pulls uncomfortably at the collar of his shirt, “Well, I never thought I’d hear myself say this, Steve. But let's go charm the pants off your ex-wife.”

As they enter the kitchen, Val greets them with a warm smile and pulls out a chair for Eddie, who sits, and Steve can see his hand twitch forward for a handshake, and then he retreats, and it looks as if Jenny and Eddie are assessing one another via silent communication and occasional side-eye. Val and Steve’s eyes ping pong between the two like they are watching tennis.

“Hmmm,” She says, finally, “You swear you won’t, right?” She asks

“Absolutely not! Never again,” Eddie exclaims.

“I’m serious, buddy,” Jenny warns.

“Yeah, well, surprise, me too, actually,” Eddie fires back, gesturing at his clothes and the room. There is an exchange of nods, like two strangers acknowledging another of their own kind.

"Job?"

"My own business. Reading, gaming, music for kids."

"You drink?" She asks

"Not especially. Beers are nice on a hot day, something stronger on a hot date" The corner of Eddie's mouth twitches up for a second.

"Drugs?" She asks, and Steve can feel the sweat forming in his palms.

"Mostly for my nightmares or really shitty days, but never if I'm driving," Eddie says. "And only green. I don't play around with anything else," Eddie says, waving a hand in front of him.

"Kids?"

"Godson," Eddie beams.

"Exes?" She asks, eyeing him carefully.

"Lots, but…er…no ties, all the paperwork is done. I couldn't give them what I'd given to someone else," Eddies says, rubbing his arm awkwardly. Val grips hold of Steve's hand, and as he turns to him, he can see Val's bottom lip quiver. He looks back at Eddie and Jenny quickly before Val starts him off too.

"On the back of that answer, I feel like I need to ask…."

"Negative." Eddie interrupts quickly.

"You got any questions?"

"How long?"

"Did he-" Jenny starts to send a frown towards Steve, but Eddie shakes his head in a no. "A few weeks. Nearly a month." Jenny smiles hugely down at her tummy and runs her hand over it.

"You tried ginger?" Eddie asks gently. Jenny shakes her head. "I don't mean this ask a bribe, but er, after this is over, I can make you the tea my mama taught me."

“Did he ask you to wear this?” Jenny smiles at Eddie.

“Yes!” Eddie complains, unbuttoning the top button of his shirt and finally relaxing in his seat.

“Ah, that explains it” She gestures a hand in a circle over Eddie, “Because this is not what I envisioned. Not to get Steve’s attention anyway,” she laughs.

Eddie leans forward, resting his chin on his fist toward her with a smirk, “Do tell me more about what get’s Steve’s attention. I wish to wield as much power as I can”, he jokes.

“Do you know about the….” Jenny says as she leans over to whisper something to Eddie.

“HEY!” Steve shouts and points a finger at them both, “No, not this. No way. Switch seats immediately!”

“Oh, like you and Tino haven’t been doing this for years.” Eddie gestures at Val. Causing Val to sit a little straighter in his chair as he runs his hands over his slicked-back hair, and Steve nudges at him.

“Ok, easy there, tiger,” Jenny says, laughing at Val’s reaction, before turning back to Eddie, “You know what? It's nice to have an even playing field for once in this house. You’re ok by me so far, Eddie” She smiles. “Welcome to the madness.” She extends her hand across the table, and Eddie shakes it enthusiastically. “Good luck with the kids. They are brutal.”

“You know I might just keep my win for the day and get grilled by those tiny tyrants another day”, Eddie smiles at Jenny, who mirrors it back.

Val kicks Steve under the table, wiggles his eyebrows and mouths “Cute” at him. Steve's instinct is to rush out of his seat and spin Eddie around the kitchen, and he almost does, but he falters and looks back to Val, who smiles reassuringly and nods. Steve isn't really waiting for permission, it's more like he doesn't want to throw something in Jenny's face if it might upset her in some way, but at Val's nod, he's pulling Eddie out of his chair, he's squeezing his face in his hands and pressing their foreheads together. For a moment, all Steve can do is sigh and look at his love. Another easy hurdle. Done. One left, Steve thinks. He can't believe how close he is to dreams becoming a reality again. Maybe's are yes's. Impossible things are possible. As Eddie blinks back at him, unable to speak because his face is still being squeezed, Steve can't help himself, and he kisses him. Just a small chaste one. He didn't want to overdo it. A small sob from the table breaks it off fairly quickly, and Steve turns back to see Val dabbing his eyes with a handkerchief and Jenny consoling him.

"And I'm the hormonal one right now." She laughs, smiling at Eddie and Steve.

"Jennifer! I cannot help it. My heart is overflowing, with romance, with love. It is too much to keep inside. And it's Steven. You know how much I love my Steven!" Val protests through sniffles. "Do you know where my other handkerchief is, my love? This one is done for." Val wipes his eyes and blows his nose loudly as Jenny rolls her eyes and leaves the kitchen.

Steve feels Eddie press closer to him, and his arms squeeze around Steve a little tighter at Val's words. Steve looks amused at Eddie's actions, and Eddie shrugs and laughs a little embarrassed, "Sorry?" he whispers and sneaks his hand into Steve's back pocket, and in return, Steve runs his fingers down Eddie's spine.

"This is my first meeting with your family, babe. Let me at least keep some cool around them," Eddie says quietly out of the corner of his mouth, and just as he finishes the last word to Steve, his face is grabbed by someone else. Val's strong tan hands hold Eddie's face and pinch his cheeks. Steve can tell Eddie is trying to remain composed but is probably internally screaming, and if it had been anyone else, Steve probably would have stepped in to save him, but it was Val, and really, Eddie was just going to have to get used to it. Which, ultimately, he surely would, as they were just as space invasive as one another.

"Look at you, uh? You take good care of my Steven now. He's very special to me." Steve looks at them both, and though Eddie is the essence of cool on the outside, Steve can feel the tension in his arm. "Having said that, he didn't make it tough for me, so I won't make it tough for you here." Valentino flashes his huge pearly white smile, but then something happens that Steve hasn't seen before. He laughs and shakes his head before fixing Eddie with a look, "Unless you make me. Capisce?" Eddie nods, and Steve can see Eddie analysing Val's face, and he lets him and leans in to say quietly as he twists the gold ring on his pinky finger, "My cousin Frankie owns a lotta bars in Chi-town, Eddie. Said you are one hell of a guitar player." Eddie gulps, and Steve feels the nervousness spread to him. He isn't sure how much Val appeared to know, but Steve hadn't told him about Eddie's past. Then Val's eyes flick up to Steve's, and he gives him a fond smile, "But if it's right by Steven, it's right by me." And with that, he turns back to Eddie, grabs him by the shoulders and kisses him on each cheek, "Welcome to the family, Eddie," he says, tapping his face playfully.

"I got you this one, hon-" Jenny says as she re-enters the room. "Now, what are you boys up to?" She says with a laugh, and Val rushes over and scoops her into his arms and plants kisses all over her face until she's pushing him away.

Eddie turns to Steve and whispers, "I think, they might be just as crazy as us, babe"  Steve thinks back to how quickly things happened between Val and Jenny and smiles hugely. If they felt the way he did about Eddie, he was so happy he didn't make any of it a problem for them, and maybe that's why they were being so open to the situation now, because they understood it, in a way. Steve thanks the ceiling again for blessing him with such luck.

"Yeah, I think they might just be," He says before kissing Eddie on the forehead.

They sit back at the table, some small talk is passed around, and Steve moves his chair right next to Eddie's. Eddie reaches for his hand under the table, and though maintaining the outward appearance of cool, calm, and collected, he can feel how excited he is about all of this as the grip on his hand pulses with tight squeezes. Steve leaves it that way for a little while, and once the squeezes are a little softer, he puts their joined hands on the table. Eddie glances bashfully out of the corner of his eye at him, and Jenny gives him a smile and nod, but then suddenly, her face changes, and she speed walks out of the room. Val chases after her.

"Was she like this with the other two?" Eddie asks, a little concerned, as Steve almost follows her, getting out of his seat, but Val waves him down kindly and runs after her.

"A little, just on a few mornings, but they both look pretty tired. I don't think it's like before," Steve says, deeply concerned.

"Listen, it might not work, but I was pretty anxious when I was a kid, and nausea was ruining my tiny little life. My mom used to fix me this ginger drink. I made it for Alice a few times too. It seemed to work then. So if it's ok, and you know where everything is, we could make her some. Or I can make it, and you could, uh, write it down?" Steve tears his eyes from the doorway to Eddie, and although he didn't think it possible five minutes ago, his whole being is filled with even more love for his man. He almost gets lost looking at him. He was so perfect. The noise from the bathroom brings Steve back to Earth, and he helps Eddie find the ingredients and grabs some notepaper and a pen.

Eddie makes two things, one in a pot simmering on the stove, another he employs a cocktail shaker and some crushed ice for, and splits it into four glasses topping up with soda water and sets them on the table.

Steve holds the jug and sieve whilst Eddie pours in the ginger honey, lemon and mint tea from the huge pot, and he can't help himself, "Where did they make you?" He asks softly.

Eddie looks more intensely at the jug, and a sweet shy smile creeps over his face, "If most people were to be believed by the devil himself," he says in his best Walter Cronkite voice and laughs.

"Yeah, if only they could see you now, going out of your way to help someone you've known for less than an hour," Steve says dreamily before he accidentally says aloud, "I can't believe I get to call you mine," and immediately shuts up.

Eddie freezes, and a huge smile spreads across his face as he tries to hold back a laugh, “Did you mean to say that out loud, babe?”

Steve concentrates fiercely on the jug and sieve, "Well…I meant it, but maybe it was supposed to fall out of my mouth like that." He grimaces awkwardly.

Eddie puts the pot down, takes the sieve away from him, dumps its contents, and puts the lid on the jug to cool on the counter before returning to Steve, who is busying himself with the things in the sink. Soon he feels Eddie's hand cradling his jaw and turns his head to face him. Eddie looks deeply into his eyes and says gently, "I don't mind you getting a little shy sometimes, it's actually kinda cute, but we spoke about this. You can tell me anything ok, you don't need to be worried. I'm here. I'm not going anywhere unless you ask me to. Even if you say the dorkiest things imaginable, I'll still love you" He smiles and pecks a kiss at Steve's lips, "Maybe even especially when you say the dorkiest things" He chuckles, "I'm not gonna fight you on it, but I feel lucky too. How many people get to go back to rekindle a first true love and find it's even better than they imagined? I don't know any, do you?" Eddie asks, kissing his cheek, and Steve shakes his head, words altogether leaving him again as he gazes at Eddie lazily. “We’re gonna make it. We are making it happen, and honestly, I can’t believe our luck. Your family is just so great. They really care about you. I really care about you. I love you,” he says, poking Steve in the chest before smoothing over it with his hand, “So stop worrying!” he says, widening his eyes and waiting for a nod of confirmation from Steve, which of course, he obliges with.

"Sorry about that, guys. The sickness is pretty awful this time. I'm hoping it's temporary," Jenny apologises as Val helps her to her seat, "Is this the drink?" Steve can hear that innocent, hopeful tone in her voice, and he figures it really must be bad.

Eddie bustles around and shows them the jar in the fridge by opening it for a second, “In here is the tea, and in front of you is just a sort of mixer, cooler thing. Pretty much the same ingredients, just much quicker to make.” There is a sort of pause as they all migrate towards the table. Eddie looks a little nervous, so Steve picks up his drink and takes a big gulp. It wasn't the greatest thing he’d ever tasted in his life, but honestly, Eddie could make him a million weird drinks, and he’d at least try every single one. Val follows Steve's lead.

"Well, that packs quite a punch, Eddie," Val says with a big smile, "Let's take a look at Steven's list here" Val takes a look over the instructions, "Looks safe to me, mia cara. Wanna check?" Eddie fidgets with his rings, and the way his mouth twitches, Steve can tell he is dying to say something.

"You know Eddie made this for his housemate who was pregnant. She had a healthy baby, right?" Steve takes over, and Eddie nods with a smile and stops fidgeting, "Also, Eddie here drank it a lot as a kid, right, honey?" Steve reaches for Eddie's hand and gives it a reassuring squeeze.

"Yeah, that's right. I mean, maybe don't sell it on how I turned out, but I got this far, so" Eddie laughs and takes a drink, and Jenny looks between the three of them. "Take no notice of these guys if you don't feel safe drinking it. I understand you've only just met me, so zero offence taken." Eddie sends her a warm smile across the table. 

"Honestly, I'm desperate for some help," She replies, looking longingly at the glass, "Sleep is like rocking horse shit. But, you know, I’ll check with the doctor. I’m sure it's fine. I just," She glances over at Val, “I don’t wanna take any chances.” Val scoops up her hands in his own and kisses each one, her eyelids droop a little, and she lets out a small yawn.

Steve takes that as an indicator to leave, he even offers to have the kids a few days earlier, but Jenny declines, not wanting the new baby to cause changes so early when she promised it wouldn’t. So they make their new affectionate goodbyes and head home.

As they drive back, Steve notices Eddie fidgeting with his rings again, “Everything ok, honey?” Steve asks and puts his hand on his knee.

“Yeah, really good,” Eddie replies, and Steve relaxes hearing the grin in his voice, “Just, uh, this kinda lame,” he huffs out a laugh, “I’m just, um, excited, you know? About all this, and it's weird.” 

“Like, weird, how exactly?” Steve asks, mostly amused with a garnish of worry.

He feels Eddie’s hand cover his, “I just am finding it a little strange, to, um, be looking forward to things, to have hope and life not kick me in the nuts for once. Told you it was lame.” He punctuates it with an adorable dorky little snort.

“What did I tell you that first night? No more struggling. You get everything you want because I’m gonna do whatever I can to make it happen, ok?” He wiggles his fingers so they slot between Eddie’s a little. “I know we’ve still got the kids to go, but I think it's gonna be fine. They already like you, so worst-case scenario, I have to not have you in my bed every night for a week. Which, ok, already sounds like hell on earth,” Steve hears Eddie chuckle, “but it would only be overnight, and I could always make up for it the week after, maybe?” Steve inquires suggestively.

“Well, I guess that doesn’t sound too bad” Eddie flexes his fingers so they grip Steve’s hand. “You know, the only thing I really want,” Steve feels Eddie fidget with their hands for a moment before he feels the warm metal slip over his finger, “Is to be yours and stay that way. Forever. No matter what.” Eddie sighs, and he feels the ring on his finger get removed and replaced with another. “I don't much like religion, honestly, but all those things they list, richer, poorer, in sickness or in health, for better or worse, to love until death tears us apart. That’s what I want.” 

“Then that's what you’ll have, my love,” Steve says gently and continues to let Eddie test his rings on him, “But I mean, if death tears us apart, you best believe I’m gonna haunt you. I’m gonna haunt you so hard, and if you meet someone else, I will terrorise them.” Eddie laughs a little too hard for Steve’s liking. “You think I wouldn't? You think that I would just watch it happen. Hell no! Once I’m dead, Eddie, I don't have to be a good person anymore. I can act exactly as I would like, and scaring the shit out of all your future potential love interests would be not only the top of my list, it might be the entire list, except for maybe checking in on the kids.” Eddie is still laughing.

“Oh, I wasn’t laughing at that. I was laughing because you think someone would still be here to haunt. You think that at your funeral, I wouldn’t dramatically throw myself down there with you? You’re crazy!” Eddie chuckles and removes the ring from Steve’s hand.

The next few days are spent in various love nests around the house, making plans, designing a studio for Eddie, marking out the road trip plan for next year, watching movies, dancing, play fighting, eating supper by candlelight, star gazing on inflatables in the pool after eating some of the special brownies Eddie made. Steve feels like Eddie has weaved his magic and encapsulated their home in a great big bubble of love.

Sunday arrives, and they spend the morning transferring all of Eddie’s things back into the RV. Which initially starts out as a team effort until Eddie picks up his acoustic guitar and decides to follow Steve around, serenading him with Happy Together by The Turtles, With A Girl(Guy) Like You by The Troggs, Oh, Pretty Woman(Steven) by Roy Orbison, and Crazy Little Thing Called Love by Queen, whilst Steve does the transfer of things. Suddenly most of Steve’s neighbours have front lawn or driveway projects to do, though he notices not a lawn mower to be heard, just Eddie’s voice and guitar ringing out down the street. Sure, Steve should be a little annoyed that he was doing all the sad, hard work and maybe even a little embarrassed about the attention of the street, but Eddie’s theatrics had won him over on the first strum. He knows he’s lost so many memories, but he will never forget this. Steve wonders how many more memories they’ll make together, and his heart blossoms with possibilities. Memories with their big extended family, memories with the kids, and things that they might tell their grandkids about.

It makes the day a little bittersweet. 

Eddie had thought he’d take the chance to go back and check in on Wayne. Unfortunately, Jack had taken a turn for the worse. He was declining rapidly and was being moved to a care home by his kids. Wayne contemplated going with Jack but didn't want to admit defeat. By giving up their home, he felt he was giving up a place for them to return to, so he was travelling to and from the place every day, and Eddie suspected he was just gonna tucker himself out.

Their goodbye takes much longer than either of them intended. Steve tries to savour every feature, look, touch, and sound he can absorb from Eddie. He wanted them embossed into his brain and skin, so he would never be without them.

They part ways at the end of the driveway, and Steve heads to pick up the kids and Beans to bring them home.

On arrival, he gets a massive hug from Jenny, which was destined for Eddie because his ginger tea drink works like a charm, but as he isn't here, Steve agrees he will happily pass it on for her. The kids bundle into the car, shoving their new schedules at Steve as they pass. For most of the journey home, the kids appear to be in their respective headphone universes, but occasionally he’d hear whispering, but every time he glances in the mirror, they go back to looking out of their windows. Something suspicious was afoot, and Steve would get to the bottom of it one way or another.

“What are you two plotting back there?” Steve says, looking in the mirror and narrowing his eyes at them.

“Plotting? Us? Together? NEVER!” Corey says with a laugh.

“Oh please, I can hear you whispering!” he tries again, looking at Zee for a second.

“Look, you’ll see, ok? OW! Corey!” Zee exclaims.

“Don’t blow it for us! Make him wait a little. He can sweat about the unknown for a bit,” Corey says seriously, and Steve has to swallow a laugh.

“Fine, be like that!” Steve says with pure mischief running through his veins, and he turns up the car stereo as loud as it will go before distortion, winds down the window and starts singing along loudly, which just happens to be Sisqo’s Thong Song. He doesn’t know most of the lyrics, but he makes up some of his own and sings even louder in the bits he knows.

The kids start to complain and protest, but Steve cups his hand to his ear and shakes his head, “WHATS THAT? NO, SORRY, CANT HEAR YOU. WAIT UNTIL WE GET HOME, YEAH?!” and then continues to sing along with whatever he can until they get home.

As they pull up onto the drive, the kids and Beans rush for the door, but Steve can see something wrapped around the knocker on the front door.

Zee turns to him, confused, and holds the tag attached, “It’s for you, Dad.”

Steve makes his way over, arms laden with bags, but when he gets there, Zee nudges Corey, and they take them from him. He lifts the gift tag attached to the red ribbon and reads it. 

I’m sorry I had to go. I hope this makes sure you won't forget me. E x

P.S. Hold on tight

Steve pulls the tag and ribbon from the door knocker, steps in front of the kids to open the door, and gasps audibly.

There are heart balloons on the ceiling, all different colours and sizes, each with a ribbon floating all the way to the floor, with a red rose attached to the bottom. Beans completely forgets her routine and begins sniffing a trail between each one. There are fifteen in total. Steve rushes to the kitchen to put them in a vase but walks in to find it is already occupied by a colossal rainbow bouquet. Around its base, tied in a neckerchief knot, is Eddie’s favourite bandana. 

“What is wrong with this guy?” Corey laughs, helping to collect some of the ones around the TV area.

“I think it's kinda sweet, right, Dad?” Zee asks, collecting the ones near the stairs.

Steve is busy, carefully folding up the threadbare black and white bandana into a pocket square that he puts in his blazer pocket, “I think you both are correct.” he manages to say, carefully swallowing down the emotions threatening to overwhelm him.

“Say, Dad?” he hears Corey’s voice a lot nearer now, “Can we talk to you about all this?”

Steve feels the dread start to rise in him, this could be the beginning of an impossible decision, but he knew the answer would always be his children. They were his priority, even up against the love of his life. He tucks the bandana down, hiding it in his pocket out of sight and turns around with a big smile.

“Of course,” he says and turns to have two bundles of balloons thrust at him from his kids, which he gathers up and puts on the side.

They sit on one side of the table, steepling their fingers, looking at him intensely. Steve sits in a chair opposite them, feeling like he’s been called into the principal's office for something. They look at one another, and then Corey nods towards Steve, and as they turn back, Zee speaks.

“Sooooo, we’ve basically overheard Val and Mom talking, and we have some questions,” Zee says gently.

Steve tries not to, but he gulps along with his, “Ok, sure, ask anything you like.”

As the words leave his mouth, Corey pulls out a notebook and pencil, tears out the top page  and pushes it towards Zee. He is then laser-focused on Steve with his pencil poised. Steve looks between the two of them and wonders which one is the good cop and which is the bad cop.

“So, first of all. Whilst we haven't been here, Eddie has been living here, right?” Zee asks, and Steve replies with a nod. Corey begins scribbling something down, and Steve can't help but be distracted by it.

“And he’s been, what, staying in the guest room?” Zee asks, eyebrows raised, and Steve thinks about lying, but he shakes his head in a no, and the pencil scribbling starts up again. 

Steve quickly defends his actions, “But it’s not what you think. I’ve known Eddie a long time and-”

“Please, Dad, just answer the questions we give you. No need to elaborate unless asked, ok?” Zee interrupts him.

“So you and Eddie are in love, right?” Zee asks.

“Yes.” Steve answers, “But you see, if I could just explain, things like this don't normally happen this quickly, it's just that-”

“Are you hard of hearing? A simple yes or no is sufficient for our investigation, ok?!” Corey says in a new york accent as he hits the table, making Steve and Zee jump. Clearly, Corey is Bad Cop. 

“Well, let’s not get overly dramatic about it, Cor, geez. He’s already nervous!” Zee frowns and turns back to her paper. “Corey, I think the answer to this next one is obvious. It feels a little redundant to ask.”

“Could you just stick to the plan for once, please?! The answer may be obvious, but his micro-expressions might give away something else.” Corey complains.

“Fine!” Zee rolls her eyes and focuses back on Steve, “Are you serious about one another? For example, this is not just some kind of whirlwind romance thing?”

Steve folds his arms, and Corey’s pencil scratches away, so he quickly unfolds them again, “Er, yeah, very serious. Write that down.” Steve replies pointing at Corey’s pad.

“Cor, this one is stupid. It's been a week. They haven't got this far.” Zee complains with a sigh, but Corey ignores her, so she reluctantly reads it out, “Do you intend to marry him?” Steve pulls a face like the answer is obvious, and Zee smiles smugly, “See?!”

“Yes, I do.” Steve answers, and Zee’s jaw drops.

“What did I tell you?! I knew it! This is crazy, so fucking crazy,” Corey says, vindicated.

“Hey, you’ll watch your language, young man!” Steve interjects, pointing at Corey firmly.

“Sorry,” Corey says a little sheepishly.

“Ok, well, I’m assuming you want him to move in then?” Zee says with a tone and look of disbelief.

Steve sighs, leans over, and takes one of their hands in his own, “Listen, I like Eddie. Yeah, I love him. I’d love to have him live here, but not without your blessing.” Steve says genuinely, looking at them both compassionately. “There are plenty of other arrangements we could come to. Eddie was the person that actually brought it up. He didn't want to do anything that made you guys or your Mom uncomfortable. He knows he’s new to you all. He’s not gonna just waltz in here and take over your lives or home, ok? You are my priority. Always.” Steve gives their hands a squeeze.

Corey tilts his head to the side, “That's great to know, Dad, but we are more than aware of how obsessed with us you are. Like, I mean, Eddie could be doing us a bit of favour, taking up some of that attention, honestly.” he lets out a little laugh. Steve half smiles with a frown.

“You aren’t worried about that?” Steve asks, looking between them.

“No,” Zee laughs, “Not at all. We just wanted to make sure you were keeping your heart safe. That’s all. We heard…well overheard, that he broke your heart before, and we talked about it and thought we’d just ask, you know?”

Steve shuts his eyes for a moment to stop the tears welling up. He hadn't accomplished a lot off his own back in this lifetime. He was mainly fortunate and managed to land on his feet. But as his two children sit before him, he can see his lifetime achievement right there. Two brilliant, sassy, funny, talented, confident, thoughtful kids and his heart could just burst. He clears his throat, hoping the lump developing in it will dissipate.

“That was a long time ago. We were young, and it was more complicated back then than it is now. Eddie-” Steve tries to defend.

“Eddie can answer for his crimes when we see him next!” Corey says in his new york cop voice again.

“What? He’s gotta go through this too?” Steve says in surprise.

“Oh yeah!” Zee laughs, “We’ve drawn up a roommate contract for him too.” 

[kirishwima]

Klangst Week: March 29th (Voltron/Garla)

@klangst-week

It’s Klangst week! Why didn’t I know Klangst week is a thing? ;-; 

I’m joining this pretty late (hope that’s okay!) with a small fic, I tried to combine bits and pieces of the previous days to get on track with the remaining week, but it’s mainly focused on the theme of today! ^^

******

He felt it more than he understood it.

There were little signs, small ways he conveyed it to him like waves breaking on rocky shores, disappearing in the blink of an eye.

Lance noticed the way he’d refuse to look him in the eye, the way he’d open his mouth to speak then stop midway, thinking no one had noticed it. He’d gotten harsher, his words fewer and bitter whenever he allowed himself to talk.

He tried to find when it started, understand when they became…this. When Keith decided he could lie to Lance’s face.

Lance dated it back to when Keith first returned from his mission to the Blade of Marmora’s headquarters, tired and beat up and closed off. He blamed it on the tiredness of the mission and Lance let it slide, putting treating his boyfriend and taking care of his wounds as a priority. Keith held on to his hand all night yet said nothing, billowing himself in the bed covers, ignoring the question in Lance’s eyes.

The rest of the instances were a blur in Lance’s mind, ranging from when Keith had suddenly grown colder, not just towards him but towards everyone in their small battered group, to when they’d be alone, Lance insisting Keith can talk to him, confide in him, only to find a bitter smile on his lips, instantly regretting the moment he opened his mouth.

He tried to put the unsettling feeling at bay, focusing more on their missions and the finalisation of their plan to defeat Zarkon, yet it was always there, sitting uncomfortably in the pit of his stomach, making rebounds to his chest every time Keith looked his way only to look away again, as if regretting the action in the first place.

It took nearly a month until Lance had had enough, finally finding the perfect opportunity on a night when Keith had finished training later than everyone else, the halls of the castle eerily quiet.

He waited until the shorter boy was done with the simulation he was fighting, his movements stiffer and more frantic than Lance had remembered them to be, before making his presence noticeable, making his way to him across the training deck.

“Nice work.”

Keith turned to face him, a foreign hostility on his face.

“Thanks.” he replied, his every step cautious, as if Lance wasn’t the person he loved and cherished but a feral animal.

He sighed, realising this game wouldn’t take them anywhere anytime soon.

“Look, can we talk? Seriously for once, without you avoiding me?”

“Lance-“

“No. Don’t-just don’t avoid me for once.” he looked up, already tasting defeat in his mouth. “Please. We can’t keep hiding behind our thumbs and pretending everything’s alright.”

Keith turned, shying himself away with the excuse of dematerialising his bayard and putting it away.

“There isn’t anything to talk about Lance.”

“Yeah right there isn’t!”

They both stilled at his yell, even Lance himself shocked at the rawness of his voice. He didn’t want to get angry, didn’t want to turn this into a fight, but it’d been so long that Keith was in obvious distress yet he wouldn’t confide in him, would refuse to even admit he wasn’t alright, and it hurt, hurt to know Keith didn’t consider him as a person to be trusted, hurt to see the person he loved carry an unseen pain and refuse to share the burden…it all hurt too much and Lance had had enough of dancing around the issue.

“You’re cold to everyone, you won’t tell us what’s going on, every time I ask you if you need something, or when I tell you I’m here for you you just brush it off-Keith, you’re not the only person in this team. You can’t carry your burdens around without sharing them because you think everyone else is better off not knowing.”

Keith halted, facing Lance with the corner of his eye. “What if they are?”

“What if they are better off not knowing?” he continued when Lance remained quiet, question evident in his expression. “What if I know that keeping things to myself is for the best, and not letting you know is also for your sake?”

He stared on, letting the words sink into Lance.

“Is that what this is about?” he started, feeling anger pool up at the bottom of his ribcage, “Is this it? You think you’re being a great saviour, doing as a favour by pushing everyone away?”

Keith reached out, about to say something but Lance cut him off, the anger now sweltering, melting glaciers in his chest.

“You think we’re of so little trust that you can’t even tell us what’s wrong? Is that how much this team is worth to you? How much I’m worth to you?”

“Lance no-“

“You can’t trust me.”

He didn’t ask. Didn’t wait for a response. One look at Keith and he knew he’d hit the last nail on the coffin, knew he was <em>right</em>, as much as it hurt.

“I love you Keith, you know I do. But if our relationship isn’t even worth your trust-then, then I don’t know if it can even go on.”

He left without a response, letting the silence in the training deck be his answer.

He wasn’t worth Keith’s time, Keith’s trust. He wasn’t worth anything.

***** It was mid battle when he found out, their plan to defeat Zarkon momentarily put at bay as they helped another planet get freed from the Garla’s grip.

Things were going well, the bigger monsters that the Garla had thrown their way were defeated, and they were fighting through the remainder robots set up by the druids before their rush retreat.

Yet one mishap, one small side step from his end, found Lance tumbling down under the sheer force of one of the robots, the others in its vicinity quickly catching whiff of fallen prey and rushing to aid in its defeat. He managed to shoot a few of the glowing purple machines surrounding him, almost ready to get back up to his feet before a scorching pain burst at his ribs, making him scream out despite his best efforts not to-the last thing he needed was to alert more of these…things of his presence.

His bayard was knocked off of his hands, dematerialising as it ended up across the floor of the Garla control room he’d found himself in.

There was a primitive fear beneath his eyes, a tremble he tried to conceal, tried to push down, refusing to meet his demise without holding on to the pride that had kept him going this long.

He shut his eyes in surrender, only to sense a pulsing purple glow beneath his eyelids, hear the slash of metals from above him.

“-ance” “Lance. Lance!”

He opened his eyes, blinking slow before widening, tugging and pushing at the person whose arms he’d found himself in.

“Lance just-calm down dammit, are you alright? Did you get hit?”

He-this wasn’t-it couldn’t be. This was Keith’s voice but this…this wasn’t Keith.

The person in front of him had fangs, razor sharp teeth, eyes glowing a fierce yellow, his skin pulsing an equally glowing purple that seemed to dematerialise at points, merging with the pale tone he knew to be of the boy he’d loved, the boy he trusted-

Keith must’ve noticed his discomfort, turning to face his reflection in a big chunk of metal that was once a control board.

The Garlan-Keith, he had to remind himself, this is Keith sighed, turning to face him with what he could only describe as a bitter smile.

“I-I didn’t want you to find out this way.”

“No. You didn’t want me to find out at all.”

He noticed Keith flinch, but paid no mind, putting every fibre of his being into pushing through the pain at his side in order to get up, slapping Keith’s arms away with one hand when the boy leaned near to stabilise him.

“Was this your big secret? The one you couldn’t trust us with?”

Keith bit his lip but said nothing, letting the hurt swell inside of Lance’s broken sides.

“You thought-what, that I’d hate you? That anyone would? Is that how much love you thought I have for you? That that’s as far as our trust to you went?”

“I’m not expecting you to understand.” his voice was raw, strained over the yells of battle, “But it’s not something I could just tell you. I was scared.”

“No Keith. You weren’t scared. You just didn’t trust me. And that-“ he pushed him away once again, when he stumbled backwards from the dizzying pain, “And that hurts. Hurts far more than anything else could’ve.”

“It’s not-I do trust you-“

He raised a hand, shaking his head and willing the falling tears off of his face.

“If you trusted me, you would have told me. Even if it hurt, even if you were terrified. If you trusted me you wouldn’t have kept it a secret.”

He put his pride to use, turning to leave with fumbling steps. Keith’s voice echoed behind him, the pulse in his ears drowning out the sounds with each step.

That’s how much I’m worth to you, he thought before collapsing, letting the voices of his concerned crew mates lull him to a fitful rest.

That’s how much I’m worth to you, he thought, and stopped fighting the tears any longer, the pulse behind his eyes dropping to a still.

I’m worth nothing to you, was his last thought before the world went black, the last image in the back of his brain being of the small shy smile <em>he</em> had given him when he first said he’d loved him, so foreign when contrasted to the one he’d just bared witness to.

I’m worth nothing to you, he thought, and let the darkness take him.

******

I’ll be uploading this along with the other small KlangstWeek fics  on my ao3 as well (hope that’s okay with the rules! please let me know if not <3), if you’d rather read them there instead ^^

[merlinsbudgiesmugglers]

Prompt: Ron wakes up post poisoning to see Hermione sitting beside his hospital bed.

I'm actually really happy you suggested Ron & Hermione. I've never written them before but this was a really fun dynamic and helped me get out of my head!

I did take a bit of license and set it a few days after he had been poisoned, but I hope you enjoy it! ----

Ron woke slowly, eyes still closed as he enjoyed the sun shining through the windows of the hospital wing onto his bed. He was contemplating whether he should wake up properly, or try to get a bit more sleep before Madam Pomfrey came by with all the potions she had him taking when he heard someone besides him.

He froze, thinking it might be Lavender. But if it was her she would have said something by now. Or she might have thought he’d fallen back asleep, though that hadn’t stopped her from talking on and on yesterday even while he put on a show of yawning and pretending to nod off. She just kept yammering on and on.

“Lavender’s not here.”

His eyes flew open and couldn’t help the sheepish grin that crossed his face when he saw Hermione. She was sitting on a chair beside his bed, but it wasn’t one of the uncomfortable wooden chairs that were spread throughout the hospital wing. She had transfigured it to an elegant, high back armchair that she was currently curled up on with a ridiculously large book on her lap.

“No idea what you mean.” He said. “Hm.” She clearly didn’t believe him, but Ron was sure he saw a hint of amusement as she went back to her book. He rolled over so he was facing her properly and he could get a proper look at her. He didn’t often get a chance to watch her like this. She was focused on her book, her eyelashes fluttering as she read along each line. Her hair was wild and curly like usual, but in the morning sun he could see golden strands shimmering everytime she moved. 

She looked so settled, Ron wondered how long she’d been in that spot.

“You’re here early.” She shrugged. “I couldn’t sleep.” Had she been worried about him?

“So you decided to come here to watch me sleep instead?” Hermione’s cheeks tinged pink and she turned the page before she replied.

“Someone has to supervise you, look what happens when you’re left to your own devices.”

“Ah, that’s why you’ve stuck around all these years.” “Who else is going to keep the two of you alive?” Ron’s bark of laughter caused her to look up, a pleased smile on her face. They stayed like that for a moment, smiling at each other for a moment before she looked away.

He’d missed her in the weeks they hadn’t been talking. All Lavender wanted to do was snog and gossip about other people in their year, and Harry was always distracted by something else these days. It had felt wrong, avoiding her in the common room. To not sit together after Harry had gone to bed, Hermione reading some incomprehensible textbook while Ron hurried through some homework he had left too late.

“What are you reading?” She huffed softly at the interruption and Ron grinned. It had been too long since he had been able to bother her like this. “Deciphering the Undecipherable: Applications in Advanced Arithmancy.” “Bloody hell.” He moaned. “Couldn’t you have brought something more interesting?” “It is interesting! I’ve told you before that you should have taken Arithmancy instead of Divination, it’s a much more sensible way of looking at destiny and our connection to the world.”

“More sensible than prophecies?” He asked, grinning when Hermione tutted at him. “Go on then, read me some.” She looked surprised. “Really?”

“Yeah, prove to me why Arithmancy is better than Divination.”

The pleased smile appeared on her face again and Ron settled into his pillows as she began reading. “Human civilisation is a record of the history of achievement. Whether we pursue achievement in the form of material success, loving relationships…” 

Watching her here in the early morning sun, Ron couldn’t help but think that being poisoned wasn’t so bad if it meant Hermione was speaking with him again.

[shysneeze]

post-training cuddles (oliver wood x f!reader)

Description: After a rainy evenings training, Oliver returns to find a bit of peace with reader 

Warnings: I literally think this is pure fluff but if you find any please let me know and I’ll add them! not very edited, but its self-indulgent af so hwg.

based off a ship I made like an hour ago, my brain literally went ‘you wanna see some real speed shit?’ lmao

.

Its the rest of the team that come streaming in first, the girls, still kitted out and soaked by rain, with faces twisted into scowls that just from looking at them, (Y/N) knows must be warranted. Then, the twins, whispering harshly to one another about ‘turning his stupid hair green’, followed by Harry, eyes half-lidded and taking long, drifting steps towards the dormitory stairs.

(Y/N) winces at the look of them all, placing her book down on her lap and waiting expectantly for Oliver, the undoubtable source of the rest of the teams bad mood.

She hears him sigh before she sees him, an exhausted sound that fills every inch of silence in the room. He appears much like the others, posture sunk tiredly, dirt smeared cheeks and rain-soaked hair. She offers him a sympathetic smile.

“Practice looks like it went well.”

He pauses, blinking in long slow blinks, mouth falling open in surprise at finding her waiting. The common room is unnaturally quiet, with only a few first years tucked in the furthest corners. Then he’s letting out a long breath and starting towards her.

“I’m knackered, Love.”

She chuckles as he drops onto the couch beside her, starting upright before slowly falling to lay his head haphazardly across her lap. Her fingers find his wet hair, tutting softly and pulling her wand out to dry it with a charm.

“From the look on everyone else faces, you all are.”

He lets out a soft groaning sound, twisting briefly to look up at her sheepishly.

“How mad are they?”

“I wouldn’t use your own shampoo for a few days.” She replies, causing another frustrated sigh. “You worked them too hard today...”

“We’re so close to winning.” He insists, sitting upright with a determined look on his face, “We can’t risk falling behind or-”

“You’re going to exhaust yourself then you’ve no chance of winning the cup anyway.” She returns sternly, “And a big chance of being knocked off your broom by your own teammates.”

He sulks for a moment, shoulders dropped and lips sloped into a subtle sort of scowl. Then, after a second of contemplation, he’s expelling an accepting sigh from his lungs and nodding.

“You’re right, Love.” He sighs, running his fingers through his hair, “I just...”

“You’re passionate,” She smiles, “It’s a good thing most of the time but not on a Friday night, when its pouring out and almost everyone would rather be at the Hufflepuff party down stairs.”

“Party?” His brows scrunching into a confused frown, then, realisation flickering across his face, “Oh, now that you mention it... How come you aren’t down there?”

“Well,” (Y/N) starts, glancing to the window where the rain clicks against the panes, creating a soft sort of racket, “I figured you’d come back all soggy and tired... thought I might be able to help.”

His chapped, wind-burnt lips twitch into a grin, and he drops his head this time against her shoulder, leaning in for only a second to kiss her cheek chastely. She rolls her eyes, own lips pulling into a smile.

“Don’t get too smug.”

“Too late.”

“Hmm.” She hums, “At least take your shoes off before you get too cozy, and your jumper, it’s soaking.”

He sighs in agreement, sitting up to pull it over his head and dropping it. It hits the ground with an unsatisfying squelch that causes each of their noises to scrunch in disgust. He kicks his shoes off haphazardly too, then settles himself by her side.

“You smell all fresh-airy,” She muses as he slots his face into the crook of her neck and heaves out a sigh that has his body melting against her own. “Comfortable there?”

“Getting there,” He mumbles.

(Y/N) bites back a laugh at the sudden neediness in his voice. She loves when he gets like this, all soft and sleepy. She lifts her hand to run his fingers through his hair, feeling him hum contently against her skin.

“Will you read to me?”

“You want me to read my book to you... It’s a bit mushy, I’m not sure you’ll like it.”

“I just want to hear your voice.”

“Needy- ah” She yelps at the pinch to her side, “Oi.”

“Please?”

She smiles to herself, picking the book up with her free hand, the other still stroking gently through his hair. She picks up at the beginning of the chapter to give him just a little background, though she doubts he’ll be listening, and begins to read aloud.

With the few remaining first years gone up to their dorm, no doubt to gossip about seeing the Gryffindor Captain so soft, and the others either planning revenge or down stairs at the party, the common room sits empty beyond the pair tangled on the sofa.

The quiet clicking of rain on the window and the crackling of the fire only add to the serenity of it all, a perfect accompaniment to the gentle sound of (Y/N)’s voice that envelopes the couple in a perfect peace.

It’s not long before the breath, blown warm across the skin of (Y/N)’s neck, softens to almost inaudible snores. She stops with a soft smile, sliding the book onto the coffee table and sighing gratefully when Oliver doesn’t stir.

In moments like this, it’s almost impossible to imagine him stern as she knows he is on the pitch, to imagine him capable of producing the scowls and revenge plots of the rest of his team - even if only temporary.

He’s so intense at times, she knows it well enough herself, but it’s passion that does it, determination and love. By the end of the week they’ll be lifting him on their shoulders at a victory party and forgetting all about his ridiculous training scheme.

For now though, she doesn’t need to think about it, he’s not Gryffindor team captain or ‘bloody strict git’, he’s just Oliver, unfiltered and at ease. (Y/N) loves him all year round, the strict and the intense, but most of all on nights like this, when they exist alone for each other, in their own little bit of peace and it’s note long before she finds herself blinking slowly to sleep in his arms.

[bitch-for-bo]

Forever (Kageyama x chubby reader) (possessive Kageyama)

POST TIMESKIP

Kageyama is possessive. Rightfully so though, every where you went you attracted, no, demanded attention. You were beautiful, inside and out. And many days Kageyama wondered just how he was lucky enough to have been the one to catch your attention. You were his world, his angel, and whenever someone else tried to entertain the thought of being with you, he wasn't happy.

So sometimes he needed to show you that he belonged to you, and that you belonged to him.

ABSOLUTELY NO MINORS ALLOWED!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

You watched as his chest rose and fell steadily with exertion. The sweat on his forehead was clearly visible and you could tell that his body was beginning to grow exhausted. You loved seeing this, everything about him when he was like this oozed power, from the way he stood, with his feet planted firmly with his muscular arms extended above him, to the look of overwhelming concentration on his face.

Your fiancé only got like this when he was playing volleyball, or when he was making love to you. It wasn’t something that he allowed others to see, saving it exclusively for his volleyball team and his loving partner. No one else got to see him like this because while it was when he was most concentrated, it was also when he was most vulnerable. When he played volleyball, he wore his feelings on his sleeve. It was as if he was trying so hard to control his physical state, that his emotions were left completely exposed.

Most days, this kind of passion on his face and in his movements, had the ability to take your breath away, and today was no different. The way that he practically glided across the court reminded you of a panther. You looked away, you could feel your body heating up as you watched Tobio play and the last thing you needed was to get aroused. You were here today to watch his practice and be a supportive girlfriend, nothing more nothing less.

Of course, the only person on the all-Japan team that knew you were Tobio’s partner, was Hinata, Kageyama’s volleyball partner and best friend (Besides you of course). Seeing as they were best friends, Tobio hadn’t been able to keep you a secret for very long. It had only been a month into the two of you dating when Hinata had finally figured it out, and you reckoned that you would’ve been found out slightly faster if it was anyone other than Hinata.

Seeing as only Hinata knew, Tobio had asked you to keep the PDA to a minimum. It’s not that he was embarrassed to be with you, very much the opposite. He felt that if his teammates knew of your existence, your beauty and naturally charismatic personality would draw them in much closer than he would allow any of them to be. You had decided to oblige because while it was sometimes fun to rile Tobio up, you really didn’t want to deal with his possessive side at the moment.

As soon as you had calmed down slightly, you looked back to the court to find that all of the players were now laying on the gym floor stretching. You decided that it would probably be okay if you walked down the bleachers and waited near the gym doors, it’s not like you were going to disturb the already-over-practice.

As you walked down the stairs, your eyes caught Hinata’s, who was currently leaning onto Kageyama as he sat on the gym floor, assisting him as he stretched.

“Look! It’s Y/N!” he shouted, one of his hands leaving Kageyama’s back as he reached up and waved to you, a bright smile taking over his face.

You smiled and waved back, hoping that his comment wasn’t loud enough to draw the attention of either the coaches or the other players. You really didn’t need the extra attention or even possibly a scolding.

Down on the court, Kageyama reached up behind him to swat Hinata on the back of the head, causing the redhead to let out a surprised yelp and glare down at his friend.

“Shh,” Kageyama hissed, “I don’t want anyone knowing about my relationship you dumbass.” His voice was hushed yet didn’t lack his usual biting tone.

“Why?” Hinata asked, his curiosity causing him to completely forget about the fact that Kageyama had just hit him. “They would love Y/N!” He beamed.

The first time that Hinata had met you, he could think nothing other than the thought that Kageyama had struck the lottery with you. You were everything that anyone could ever want. You had a sweet, patient personality (necessary to deal with Yama’s awkwardness and mood swings), you were incredibly smart, and to top it all off, you were one of the most gorgeous women that Hinata had ever seen.

Hinata remembered exactly what you were wearing the first time that he’d met you. It was during the summertime, it was actually at the wedding of one of Hinata and Kageyama’s mutual friends. Hinata could remember how Kageyama had reacted when they found out that each quest was encouraged to bring a plus one. He had been shocked that Kageyama had been so calm about the situation, usually, his best friend would freak out at the thought of having to plan out having a guest with him. As soon as Kageyama had simply agreed with the plus-one invitation, Hinata had known something was up, and pretty soon, Kageyama told him about you and told him that he’d be able to meet you at the wedding.

It was a summer wedding and it was outdoors. You had chosen to wear a very simple, light lilac summer dress. You were always careful when you went to weddings to follow the proper etiquette, not wearing a color too close to white, matching the dress with nude heels that were no higher than 2 inches. Unfortunately, you had never been a small woman so even in 2-inch heels you ended up towering over the bride. Luckily, you only saw her when Kageyama went to greet his friend and congratulate him.

It had been almost sunset when Hinata had met you, and with all of the times that he himself had been compared to the sun, he couldn’t help but see you as the purest definition of the star. The way that the orange-pink sky lit up your face as Kageyama introduced you to him, nearly left him breathless. That along with the way that your light, flowy dress hugged and accentuated your breasts and hips, managed to make Hinata develop a blinding crush on you (much to his dismay).

Thankfully, over time, Hinata realized that while you were incredibly beautiful and kind, he saw you as nothing more than a friend as well as the girlfriend of his best friend (although sometimes he would still find himself slightly jealous that Kageyama had managed to snatch you for himself).

Kageyama just pushed Hinata off of him and stood up.

“That’s the problem.” he whisper-shouted at the redhead. He didn’t want any of his teammates to notice you, you were his to view and his only.

“Ahhh…” Hinata nodded, knowing all too well of Kageyama’s possessive tendencies. A smug look came over his face as he hurried to catch up to Kageyama, who was walking towards you on the side of the court. “Your stingy side is showing Kageyama.”

Kageyama just rolled his eyes as he finally came to stand in front of you.

He smiled down at you, a light blush painting his face as he tried to regain his cool. He couldn’t help but get a little starstruck each time he saw you. You were so so stunning that he almost had to pinch himself to remind himself that this wasn’t a dream, that you were really his.

And the same went for you. To you, everything about Tobio was perfect and nothing had more rewarding to you than watching your fiance go from the awkward, stumbling 21-year-old he was when you had met him to the brilliant man that stood before you. Over the last 3 years, you’d had the honor of getting to watch your boyfriend truly flourish.

“Hey,” you said, grinning up at your boyfriend, careful to deny the urge to jump into his arms and hug his sweaty form.

He just grinned right back at you, his blush only growing as he fought his own urges to lean down and take a kiss from you.

“Hey,” he replied, “Thank you for coming, I know it must’ve been boring for you.”

“What?” you scoffed, your eyes widening at the ridiculous statement. “I love watching you play.” The genuine excitement in your voice made Kageyama blush even harder.

“Aww, what about me Y/N don’t tell me you were only focusing on stupid Kageyama!” Hinata whined, slinging one of his arms up and around your shoulders.

“Of course not, you did great Hinata” You complimented, knowing that Hinata was probably the only other player that you could complement without Tobio getting fussy.

Hinata picked your hand up, inspecting your engagement ring.

“Really is a shame you’re wasting your life on this idiot though.” he tutted, before giving you a quick kiss on the side of the head and running back onto the court.

“Ignore him.” Tobio scowled, earning a light giggled from you.

“You know I usually do.” You assured. “So, when will you be home?” you asked quietly, making sure that no one could possibly hear.

“Well I think the team wanted to go out tonight...so…”

You nodded, the whole team had been working so hard lately, they deserved some off time.

“Okay baby,” You smiled, “since you’re going out with friends, I might call my girlfriends up and have a night out myself.”

Kageyama nodded. He loved how easy going you were. He couldn’t believe how lucky he was to have you.

“Be careful and have fun.”

“You too,” you said. He gave you one last love-filled glance before turning and going back onto the court, probably on his way to the locker rooms.

You turned and left, fishing your phone out to call your friends.

**************************

The music at the club was loud, and the flashing lights were almost intense enough to give you a headache. It was also almost overwhelmingly hot in the club as well, which had led you and your friends to take a break. You all had decided to cool down, so you went and ordered a couple of rounds from the bar.

Seeing as you had been at the club for at least 30 minutes already (and did some pregaming before) you and your friends were a bit more than tipsy. Still, you didn’t have work tomorrow and Kageyama didn’t have practice so both of you were going to be able to sleep in as long as you like.

Right after you had put your order in with the bartender you looked towards the entrance of the club, your jaw hitting the floor in surprise.

“Oh my god…” you gasped, how unlucky was this?

“What?” your friend asked, her eyes trying to follow yours across the club.

“Look” you replied, pointing your finger towards the entrance where nearly all of the all-japan team members stood.

“Damnnn... “your friend gasped, “too bad you have a fiance bitch…”

You scoffed, pushing her into the side of the bar. Your eyes went straight back to the entrance, scanning the men as you looked for a familiar stoic face.

“You idiot! That is my fiance. That’s him and his team!” You couldn’t help but laugh a little at your friend who just gaped at you.

“You never told me he had hot friends! I hate you!”

You just laughed. You really wanted to approach your fiance and greet him, but you also knew that without the distraction of practice, it was more likely for some of his other teammates to see you. So you settled with turning your back to the team, hoping that Hinata hadn’t seen you because you knew that if the rambunctious redhead caught sight of you, he would definitely approach you.

For the next couple of minutes, you tried to form a plan on how you could avoid the team, it was a fairly large club so you were pretty sure that it was possible for both of your groups to co-party without crossing paths.

Little to your knowledge, Hinata had already caught sight of you and snuck away from Kageyama and the team so he could greet you. He would tell Kageyama that you were at the club after he said hi to you, otherwise, Kageyama wouldn't allow him to draw any possible attention to you.

You were still trying to think of all of the possible problems with your plan whenever you felt a strong arm wrap around your shoulders. You quickly turned towards the arm with your fist raised, ready to put a handsy bastard in his place.

“Woah! Hey there!”

“Hinata!” you scowled. As soon as you saw him, all of your hope of having a stress free night disappeared. You wondered how he could be so reckless, how dare he blatantly walk up to you!

“Sorry!” He said smiling, his arm unhooking itself from around your body as he leaned against the bar, trying to kind of block you from the team. Despite what you and Kageyama thought, he wasn’t a complete idiot.

“It’s fine… it’s not like I was going to be able to avoid you anyways..” you sighed, resting your chin against your palm in a pout.

“Wait,” Hinata said, “you already knew that we were here? I thought I was doing you a favor by telling you.”

You smiled at the sweet sentiment, before nodding.

“Yeah, I saw you guys when you came in.”

Hinata nodded. Of course, you had noticed, you never failed to impress him with your observation skills. God knows that if you hadn't had good observation skills, you never would’ve realized that Kageyama was flirting with you when the two of you had met.

The bartender came back and set the screwdriver that you’d ordered in front of you. You nodded in thanks before taking a large sip.

“What’re you gonna do?” He asked, yanking the beverage away from you and stealing a bigger than polite gulp.

“We can avoid each other as long as I and my friends stay at the opposite side of the dancefloor and stuff.” You said, swatting at the back of his head as he went in for another drink.

“Ahh,” he said, taking two more gulps and finishing the drink. “Well, good luck!” He gave you a quick kiss on the cheek before walking away from the bar, most likely to go back to his teammates before suspicions rose.

You simply flipped him off as he left, but before you could order a new drink, a new hand wrapped around your arm.

“Hey Y/N let’s go back to dancing!” Your friend said, trying to drag you to the dancefloor. You glanced towards Kageyama’s group, noticing that they had kind of dispersed, some of them staying at the side tables, others heading to the bar, and a few headed towards the dancefloor.

You decided that you liked those odds, and it was probably okay for you to relax a little.

You and your friends returned to dancing, trying to stay towards the middle of the floor. It might seem a little counterintuitive, but being in the middle of the dancefloor meant it was easier to blend in and become just another body in the mass.

At least something about this night was going right, the music the club was playing was probably the best mix you’d heard playing in there in the last couple of visits. Your group was having the times of their lives as you focused on having fun and moving to the music. You could feel the stresses of the week melting away with the music and alcohol when suddenly, a pair of electric blue eyes met yours.

You stopped moving, you couldn’t tell if your heart was beating because of the dancing or if it was the striking look of your fiance looking at you from across the club.

Kageyama must’ve gone home when you weren’t there and changed. He was dressed simply in a dark blue button-down and black slacks but you couldn’t help the shiver that ran through your spine as your body grew hot.

You could tell from the look on his handsome face that he wanted to approach you, but before he could take a step, one of his teammates, a man nearly as tall as Kageyama with bleached blonde hair, slapped him to the shoulder before starting to talk to him about something.

Kageyama broke eye contact with you, turning his face to talk to Atsumu. But neither his heart nor his mind was in the conversation as he couldn’t help but try and sneak glances back out across the club, searching for the figure of his fiance.

After only a couple of seconds of searching, his eyes found you once again and he had to stop himself from letting out a groan.

You were intentionally swinging your hips in the most inviting ways possible, making sure to give Kageyama a nice show. The security of him being across the club meant that you could behave like this and have it be completely within the rules. After all, none of his teammates were watching you dance, only him.

You could feel Tobio’s eyes on your ass as you swing your hips around to the song playing over the club. Since your back was facing your boyfriend, he wasn’t able to see the teasing smirk on your lips as you ground your hips in a circle.

Your body was heating up more and more by the second, you could almost feel his body beneath you as you drew circles with your hips, throwing your head slightly back and rolling it around, exposing the flesh of your neck for his viewing pleasure.

Kageyama was barely keeping a grip on himself as Atsumu continued to talk to him, the blonde had pulled Kageyama into a conversation with him and Kiyoomi, not knowing anything of the battle occurring between Kageyama and his beautiful girlfriend (whom the team still didn’t know existed).

He was having trouble focusing as you danced. He knew that you were acting this way just to tease him, and he also saw that purely by coincidence, you were wearing one of his favorite dresses. The way that the dark red dress hugged your figure was enough to drive him crazy. Even from his position across the club, he could see the way that your breasts and ass were on perfect display, as well as the soft bounce of your thighs as you continued to move.

His legs were twitching with the urge to go and shield you from everyone else in the club. He knew that you didn’t mind people watching you dance, but he did and he could already see several male glances glued to your body. But despite how much he hated all of those men staring at you, he couldn’t blame them. You were almost ethereal in the way that you commanded attention with your movements. Your confidence oozed out of you, attracting and drawing the attention of almost everyone within a 10-foot radius.

He almost growled as he saw you wink at him before shaking your ass at him, he knew that you were aware that he couldn’t approach you and obviously you were having great fun making him miserable.

He felt himself getting hard, and he knew that he needed to stop watching. Hopefully, if he stopped watching, you would stop dancing like that.

He shot one last glance your way, a glance that said ‘you’ll get your punishment later’ and made you clench your thighs.

You just laughed as he turned away. You knew that it was mean to act like this, but you just couldn't help it. Plus, no harm no foul.

“Y/N!” You head a shout behind you, turning to find Hinata. “Dance with me Y/N!” he asked his eyes like an excited child.

You only laughed in response, before stepping towards him and beginning to dance (much more innocently)

You and Shoyou danced for at least ten minutes, just having fun and laughing. Seeing as Kageyama rarely danced, you were grateful that he had such an energy-filled best friend. After a couple of more songs, you both decided that it was once again time for a drink break, and went to the bar together.

After demanding it of him, Hinata bought you a drink to make up for the one he had stolen earlier but as soon as the bartender set it down in front of Hinata, a hand popped out and stole it before you had the chance to claim it.

“So Shoyou, this is where you’ve been sneakin’ off all night?”

You glanced around Hinata to see the blonde that was talking to Kageyama earlier. Hinata gave a small awkward laugh, his eyes glancing to yours apologetically.

“Hey, Atusumu..”

“So….” Atsumu drawled, walking around Shoyou to get a better look at you, “this yer girlfriend Shoyou?” You could feel his eyes glancing down your body, causing your face to heat up and embarrassment begin to rear its ugly head.

Atsumu really was quite handsome, you thought. You couldn’t help but get a little flustered as he eyed you hungrily.

“Haha,” Hinata chuckled nervously, his hand resting itself protectively on your upper back. “No, just a friend.”

“Just a friend….whatta relief thought I was gonna have to steal your girl from ya…”

It was your turn to laugh nervously as Atsumu leaned across the bar to order a drink.

Atsumu was glad that you weren’t Shoyou’s girlfriend. Ever since the first time Hinata had snuck away from them, he had seen the redhead approach you, and ever since then, you had been caught in the crosshairs of his sight.

He couldn’t help but admire you from across the club, the way that your dress complimented your plush body was something that he’d been practically drooling over all night. He could only imagine how soft you were underneath the lovely material, he’d noticed the way that as you had walked to the bar with Hinata, the dress had slipped slightly up your thighs, exposing the supple curve of your legs.

With as flattering as the attention from the blonde setter, you knew that you needed to leave. Your plan to avoid the team had clearly failed and you had decided just to take the loss and call it a night.

“Well,” you said, stepping away from the bar to make your quick escape, “I’m going to go to the bathroom real quick.” It wasn’t completely a lie, you were actually going to go to the bathroom, you were just gonna leave the club right after.

“Promise to come right back?” Atsumu grinned, leaning slightly closer to you.

“How about this,” you drawled back, deciding that the best way to get him off your back at the moment would be to lie your ass off and promise to meet him later, “I’m here with my friend right now, I’m gonna make sure that she has a good time before I worry about myself, so, why don’t you try to find me in about an hour, then maybe you’ll have a chance.” You had leaned towards Atsumu as well until the two of you were only inches apart.

“Deal,” he said, his hands itching to attach to your waist, you were so close…

“See ya then” you smirked, throwing him a wink before sauntering off to the bathroom. As soon as the door closed behind you, you let out the breath that you’d been holding.

‘Fuck’ you thought, ‘ Kageyama is not going to be happy.’

But it’s not like you had a choice. In fact, you thought that you had handled the situation pretty well. Hopefully, Atsumu would get drunk and forget about the whole ordeal.

Once you’d regained yourself, you pulled out your phone and called your friends to tell them that you were going to head home. They whined a little but eventually understood that you’d made up your mind.

Now all that was left was to sneak out without looking super unnatural.

***************************

“Yeah, that’s her,” Atsumu said cockily to the table, causing Kageyama to clench his fists in an attempt to calm himself.

He couldn’t believe that he’d been so careless in letting you out of his sight. He couldn’t believe that he was so unlucky that his teammate made a move on you…..well….. He could believe that. With as enrapturing as you were, it was impossible for someone not to try and approach you. He was just unhappy that it had to be Atsumu.

The blonde had come sauntering back to the area that the team had been inhabiting and had begun to brag about the promise that you’d made him. Of course, at first, Kageyama hadn’t known that it was you who Miya was talking about, but soon Hinata had timidly whispered in his ear, just what the situation was. Kageyama couldn’t even be mad at Hinata, after all, he knew that the over-exuberant spiker couldn’t help it.

The team had only seen you briefly, you were walking into the crowd, trying to get to the exit. As soon as you had ducked into the mass of people, thankfully, none of them could see you leave the building.

After you’d disappeared, a couple of members of the team made comments on your body, congratulating or teasing Atsumu over what they deemed to be a hopeless endeavor, telling him that he didn’t stand a chance.

All of the comments made Kageyama livid, but at the same time, it made him feel totally victorious that he was the one who would get to go home to you later. He didn’t like the way that they were talking about you, and soon the possessive side of him couldn’t stand to stay and listen.

He and a couple of the guys went over to the bar and got a couple of drinks, all of them thankful to be away from the more rambunctious members of the team who were still either conversing at the table or springing around on the dancefloor.

As he sipped his drink, Kageyama couldn’t help but let his mind wander back to you. That dress was truly one of his favorites. The way that you looked in it never failed to distract him, and when he’d seen you in it earlier, he’d almost forgotten how to breathe.

He couldn’t wait to go home to you. He wondered if you had already showered and gone to bed yet, it was a shame that he wasn’t the one to strip that dress off of you, but he was hoping that you’d replaced it with one of his shirts, or even nothing at all.

He set his drink down. He couldn’t hold himself back any longer, he needed to see you, to hold you.

He passed back by the team on his way out, coming up with some lame excuse of feeling too tired to continue the night, getting teased by Bokuto that he was secretly taking someone home, which wasn’t completely off base.

As he walked out of the club into the cool night air, he thought of how you had been dancing earlier, the way that your eyes had flitted to his before you would expose your neck to him, or how you would drag your fingers down your sides, outlining your perfect shape for him as you danced.

‘ Fuck’ he thought, ‘I’m hard.’

He hailed a cab, eager to get home to you. Soon, he was opening the door to your apartment and walking inside. He quickly removed his shoes, eager to find you and wrap you in an embrace. But halfway down the hallway to your bedroom, he stopped.

“Fuuuuckkk….” he heard the high pitched moan drift out of the closed door, the sound going straight to his dick as he anticipated the sight awaiting him. Your moans continued to grace his ears as he slowly peeked in the door, avoiding making any noise so that he could watch you silently.

He found you with your back to him, kneeling on the bed as you pressed a vibrator against yourself. You had shed all of your clothes, leaving your skin bare to his eyes, every goosebump and shiver completely visible to his hungry gaze.

He silently approached you, working his belt off of his hips as he walked. When he got close enough to you, he cleared his throat appreciatively, his dick hardening when your head dropped back to look at him.

God, you looked so good for him. Your eyes were watering and from where he stood, he had the perfect view of your pretty tits as well as a view of the little pink toy vibrating against your already soaked pussy.

Suddenly, your mouth dropped open and another string of moans came out. Kageyama raised his hand to your cheek, his gentle fingers caressing your face, carefully pushing the sweaty wisps of hair that were sticking to your temples. His heart lurched as you looked up at him, your teary eyes filled with love. He looked right back down at you in adoration, not believing how lucky he was that he was yours.

“How long did you have to wait for me baby?” he asked his voice calm despite the furious blush gracing his face.

“....not long…” you whimpered, your insides twisting as your fiance slowly leaned down to join his lips with yours. You almost cried into the kiss, the warm feeling of his mouth against yours making the last couple of hours of torture completely worth it.

“You looked so sexy tonight baby.” Kageyama praised as he leaned away, allowing you to catch your breath after the searing kiss. He sat on the edge of the bed before running his hand down your body from your breasts to your naval before wrapping around your hand that was currently holding the vibrator.

He took the toy away from you, making you whine pathetically at the loss of contact.

“ Shhh… ” He hushed you, pressing a quick kiss to your lips as he stood up again. “I’m gonna fill you up so good, but first I want you to suck me for a bit” He unbuttoned his slacks before letting them drop to the floor.

Your eyes hungrily made their way across his powerful thighs, your mouth practically watering at the sight of the thick muscle that laid underneath his dark boxer briefs. You looked up at Kageyama, moaned lightly as he began to work on unbuttoning his shirt with his long, graceful fingers.

You wanted those fingers inside of you, you thought, keening at the mental image of getting stretched out by Tobio before he filled you with his cock.

You quickly sunk down to your knees and pulled his underwear down his thighs, biting your lower lip almost painfully as his hardening dick popped out. You drooled at the sight, Kageyama had to of had one of, if not the prettiest cocks in the world. The way that the hot appendage stood proudly, long and thick with a gorgeous vein running halfway up the length put art to shame. The slight upward curve made him fit perfectly in your hand, made it perfect for rocking into your fist as you got him off.

“ Please …” he whispered, and that was all it took for you to eagerly wrap your lips around his cock, your hand twisting gently at the base.

“ Shit ,” Kageyama grunted, throwing his head back at the sudden sensation of the warmth of your mouth surrounding him. He threaded his fingers into your hair as he gently guided your head down onto his cock.

“You take me so good,” he mumbled, his praises going straight to your clit as you moaned out around his dick, your fingernails raking down the fronts of his thighs as you gripped onto the muscles.

You were slowly building your pace up, going from giving the tip of his cock small, hot licks, to taking him as far down your throat as you could muster.

Kageyama was putty beneath your fingertips, his whole body felt like it was on fire as you worked him just like he liked to be worked. He could feel himself starting to lose his control over himself as the overwhelming urge to fuck you silly started to creep up his spine.

“Fuck baby,” he breathed as you swallowed him into your throat again, relaxing around the thickness as best as you could, he knew that he was close, “ keep going, baby… .”

Your pussy only clenched harder at his encouraging words as you quickened your pace, trying desperately to make him cum. One of your hands left his thighs to lightly grip his balls, the light touch pushing him that much nearer to the ledge.

“ Ooh fuck….. Please….wanna cum in your pussy baby” he moaned, his fingers sweeping the hair across your forehead as he looked down at you with blown-out pupils.

All you had to do was nod before Kageyama pulled his cock out of your mouth and hoisted you up onto the bed. He leaned over you, claiming your lips in a searing embrace as he ran the tip of his cock against your pussy, making you moan at the feeling of his pulsing cock against your lips.

“ Please Tobio …” you begged, your legs wrapping around his hips in an attempt to pull him inside of you.

After pumping his cock a couple of times in his hand, Kageyama lined himself up with your opening, before easing himself in.

All it took was feeling your tight walls wrapped around him for him to lose himself, his hot cum spurting into you as he buried his face into your neck, licking and sucking at the flesh as he gently rode out his high, careful not to thrust into you too hard seeing as you hadn’t been properly stretched.

“ Tobio ….” you breathed, the feeling of his seed inside of you making you yearn for him to breed you that much stronger. “ Please...fuck me Tobio… ”

“ Shhh… ” he soothed, trying to pull out of you as carefully as possible, groaning at the lewd squelch that your pussy made.

He crawled down your body until his face was level with your cunt, his fingers spreading the lips of your pussy apart as he inspected the sight of his cum leaking out of your hole, groaning at the incredibly sexy display.

Timidly, his tongue poked out of his mouth and prodded at your clit, pulling a high pitched whine from your lungs as your fists gripped the sheets underneath you.

Kageyama wrapped his mouth around your clit, sucking the little bud into his mouth as his fingers began to prepare you, scooping his cum up and fucking it back into you.

“So good for me baby…. You’re being so good for me aren’t you?”

“ Yes!” you cried, your hips trying to grind down onto the digits that were fucking into your dripping cunt far too slow for your liking. “Please give me your cock.”

Tobio decided to indulge you, crawling back up your body and realigning himself with you.

“Fuck, you’re so tight baby.” he groaned, his hips slowly pushing into you until he bottomed out.

You were being reduced to a whimpering mess with the feeling of being so completely full of your boyfriend. You wrapped your arms around his back, your chest pressing against his as he began to thrust into you with slow, calculated movements.

“ Please …” you sighed, your hips bucking desperately as you tried to coax him to go faster.

As Kageyama stared down at your blissed-out face, he could only thank god that you were his. After seeing how his teammates ogled over you, how much you were desired, he could help but feel like the luckiest man alive as he buried himself deeper into you, your walls clenching deliciously around him.

“ Fuck baby… . No one else can fuck you like this but me….” He groaned, his hips beginning to snap in and out of you a little bit faster.

You almost cried at the change in pace as you nodded and babbled out, “ yes, you fuck me so good, only you… ”

Tobio continued to thrust into you, whispering praises and compliments into your ear as he pounded into you, telling you how good you felt around him, how lucky he was to have you all to himself.

He could feel your end approaching as he reached down and began to circle your clit, taking the small bud between his thumb and index finger and rolling it, causing your eyes to roll back into your head.

“Fuck! Tobio!” you cried, your fingers digging into his shoulders, “...m’ gonna cum…”

Kageyama’s head rested in the crook of his neck as his thrust quickened even further, he could feel his second high rising within him as well.

With a few more thrusts of his hips, he had you crying as you came on his cock, milking his second load of the night into you.

Kageyama stayed inside of you even after you both came down from your highs. You keened in the feeling of being stuffed full of his cum, his cock acting as a stopper to keep any of it from leaking out.

If you had your way, he would never pull out, you would never have to let go of this full feeling.

“Wanna stay in you forever.” He mumbled against your skin, his cock twitching as small aftershocks rocked through your pussy, surprising him with small squeezes every few seconds.

“Ok.” you giggled, wrapping your arms around him happily.

He let himself indulge for a few minutes before deciding that he wanted to inspect his work, he went back down to be eye level with your pussy, once again groaning at the sight of his cum along with your juices seeping out of your puffy hole.

“ No please. .” you gasped in surprise as his fingers started shoveling the cum back into your hole, pressing against the spongey texture of your g-spot with every thrust.

“Come on baby….” he encouraged, his fingers going from 0 to 100 as he mercilessly finger fucked you. “Give me one more orgasm, K?”

You nodded, there were tears in your eyes and your thighs were twitching as the sting of overstimulation took over your pussy. You knew that Kageyama would never push you too far, you knew that he only wanted to make you feel good.

Your second orgasm took you by surprise, the high ripping through your body as you began to convulse against your fiance’s fingers.

“Tobio!” you squealed, your hands flying down to his wrists, trying to stop the digits from continuing to fuck you through your high, you could feel yourself creaming all over the sheets and his teeth bit into your thighs.

“ Good girl ….” he growled as he replaced his fingers with his tongue, lapping up your juices as your body went limp against the bed. He pulled away, his chin glistening with your cum as he smiled adoringly down at you.

After a moment’s rest, he climbed off of the bed, leaning over and lifting you into his arms. He carried you to the bathroom and sat you down on top of the counter before retreating to the shower to turn it on.

When he returned to you, he wrapped his arms around your waist, enjoying the feeling of your plush, orgasm-rocked body against him.

“You did so well for me…..” he whispered into your skin, “I love you so much…”

You mewled at his words, your nose nestling against his hair as your own arms returned the gesture of wrapping around him.

Once the shower warmed up, he put both of you under the steady flow, the hot droplets relaxing you as you melted back against his chest while he contently washed your body.

Tobio looked down at you.

“You know all of my teammates wanted to take you home tonight…”

You hummed in response, only half-listening to your fiance as you continued to bask in your post-orgasm glow.

“I almost had to tell that you belong to me,” he continued, running his fingers across your body, lathering soap against your skin.

You hummed again.

“Tell me who you belong to baby,” he whispered, turning you around in his arms.

You looked up at him with a sweet smile on your face, your fingers coming up to thread through his soft wet hair. You leaned up and placed a sweet kiss against his jawline before resting your head into his chest, hearing the gentle thudding of his heartbeat.

“Tobio Kageyama,” you stated, “I am completely yours.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

[hollyhomburg]

Reasons Wretched and Divine (Pt. 7)

(Hybrid au) (YoonMinJoon x Reader) (Mafia au) 

Summary: After years of abuse, you’ve all finally found each other. But for one of you- the fear still lingers, hidden in the shadows. Yoongi doesn’t want much, just a few more weeks, but he only has until the end of the summer. 

Parings: Snake hybrid! Yoongi x Dog hybrid! Jimin x Dog hybrid! Namjoon x Pregnant! Reader, Platonic Vmin, allusions to 2seok, 

Genre: Hybrid au, Polyamory au, Hurt/Comfort, Recovery, Pregnancy, Mafia au

Tags:  Domestic abuse, references to sexual abuse- and choosing to have sex even though you’ve been through sa, physical abuse, polyamory negotiations, Post-traumatic stress disorder, mute characters, brief gore at the end, pregnant m/c, frottage, marking kink, fingering, oral f. receiving, Voyeurism, exhibitionism, implied death but dont worry I do not write MCD!!!!

A/n: just for posterity's sake! i was drunk when i posted this! enjoy! full gangbang comes in (y/n) next chapter! (oh god im going to hell).

W/c: 10.5k

Song Rec: Like Real People do ~ Hozier

~ Series Masterlist ~

2 Years Earlier

-  If Jeon Jungkook where so esoterically inclined, he would write a book on how he had become the most dangerous man in the underworld. It would be a short book though; because Jungkook had only 2 rules for himself. The first was to always get up after he’d been hit during a fight (even if it took him a second) and the second was to know when to mind his own business. 

- Jungkook was always able to get up after being hit, Even when he’d been a street kid, with not a penny to his name and a whole lot of anger in his mouth. ready to spit vitriol at anyone who would pause and listen. He’d always been able to get up. The pain giving him a kind of sick clarity that he eventually sought out instead of tried to escape. Jungkook could never think as clearly as he did during a fight; or when he was in pain. And that was probably because of his father. 

- But whatever. That man was 6 feet under, (his mother on the other hand- no- that bitch certainly had more than one dept to pay still). He didn’t have a lot of time or energy to put into dealing with that particular trauma (why he honestly felt like sometimes- he liked being hit). Most of his energy went into staying alive. Even now- when living and surviving teetered on the same edge. Jungkook had more pressing matters to tend to than dealing with his own fragile mind. 

- The way he would get up and hop around for a second to soak in the clarity after being hit during a scuffle was one of the reasons why he’d been given his street name: The Playboy Bunny; further set in stone with his tattoo of the same moniker under his left eye. A cheekbone he’d tap and say “you want to hit me? why don’t you try your luck and see how well it turns out for you.” 

- He was doing reconnaissance, Sneaking around the back alley with his hood up and his glasses on- disguising his black eye that was sure to get more than a few looks from passers-by. The ears of the playboy bunny tattoo peeking out over the top of his mask. 

- He keeps his eyes on the crowd waiting for some sort of handoff- to see anything at all. But he’d lost his target through the crowd and has no drive to find them in the dizzying rush of people and umbrellas. Not yet. Not when the hum of addiction lurks in his veins. 

- Jungkook pauses lighting a cigarette, when a commotion to the side hidden around a corner- blurs his concentration. The world snapping back into focus when he sinks his fingernails into his palm. Terse voices. A couple fighting in the alleyway perpendicular to his. 

- Minding his own business was a particular skill of his- it took one kind of person to know when to step in, and another to know which problems weren't worth the headache. And unless it involved the acquisition money or some step therein, it wasn’t a problem worth getting into in Jungkook’s opinion.

- But Jungkook can’t stop his ears from hearing snippets of conversation, a low and angry male voice. The sound of a smack. “You just had to embarrass me like that, didn’t you? First, you come out dressed like a slob and then you act like a fucking whore- I swear if I see you give eyes to another man this week I'll beat you five ways to Sunday”

- The sound of a soft female voice, so quiet- almost indistinguishable from the pouring rain, “I wasn’t-” another smack.

- Jungkook has been hit so many times he knows the sound of it, the ragged gasp the woman lets out, also quite- like even the pain takes up too much space. 

- His body starts to move before his mind thinks it through as he gives up position in favor of investigating the noise. There he sees it, ivy growing up the wall next to the back exit of some restaurant. A woman, small crouching in front of a grotesque man. A baggy coat buttoned tight around her small form. hair swept back in a tight bun. Red lipstick smudged. Though you check your hands and think its blood for a moment before you remember you’re wearing it. 

- Jungkook waits for a moment before he watches you stand on shaky legs. you get up. 

- The rest of the underworld might be old grudges and blood feuds but Jungkook was only here to be a businessman. He didn’t have time for ego and arrogance, let alone time for altruism... 

- Usually. 

- He looks on for a moment, too sluggish without nicotine, but Jungkook’s lingering stare almost seems to spur the man on. He’s wearing a jacket with a military patch, a badge; some sort of congratulation for service done no doubt. and Jungkook feels his distaste for the man deepen. 

- “What you looking at punk?” he slurs. Stalking forward as if to shove Jungkook. He almost wants to tut- that would be an expensive action. Jungkook wonders if the man is maybe high or drunk or both. He’s has had his fair share of experience with junkies and he knows one when he sees one. 

- “Nothing, just a pig beating his girlfriend.” The man settles for shoving Jungkook back. And Jungkook lets him. You don’t look up, don’t do anything but lean to the side, like the brick wall is the only thing keeping you up. Jungkook sees the back of your hand, black and blue, the other bruises on your neck. You only make eye contact with him once. Just slightly. Barely in passing.  

- You look like Jungkook used to look. He remembers in the savage bite of an open-handed slap- the fear he sees in your eyes. He looks and looks. And it aches so viscerally as Jungkook watches you go, your hurt echoes through him. You look beaten down and broken like Jungkook used too; before he’d decided he was done taking punches from people who were supposed to love him- Were supposed to care. 

- (Before he realized life wasn't supposed to hurt) 

- He’s never been one to feel things for other people, the empathy sparing him through most of the suffering he’s seen. It’s not that he’s unfeeling; it’s just that Jungkook’s life has forced him to feel concerned only for himself and no one else. His own survival is his first priority; Not others. 

- He watches you walk away, And you don’t look back at him. Rushing to keep up with your husband's steps. He waits until you disappear into the crowd before he lifts his phone to his ear and makes a call. “Hey, I need you to flag all of the cars that leave the parking lot, they’re just a couple, should be coming to you soon.”

- Jeon Jungkook had become the most powerful man in the underworld because of two reasons; by being able to take punches, and by knowing when to mind his own business. 

- But For this, Jungkook thinks he can make an exception.

- (You won't remember meeting Jeon Jungkook, but Jungkook will always remember you).

~.~

Now

-It comes as no surprise that your little speech fades after a few days and the rest of the hybrids quick to return to treating Yoongi with a mix of disdain and fear. Though mostly- this seems to be caused by Minhyung's group and the other canine hybrids. Namjoon hears them whispering about ‘favoritism’ before they catch on that he’s listening in. And in the days following your impromptu departure from the farm, you find people quiet even further whenever Yoongi's brought up. Staring when Yoongi comes close, afraid to interact with him.

- Even Jimin is greeted mostly with silence from all but a few. The bunny hybrids don’t act so skittish anymore, and the cat hybrids could care less used to sticking to their own group. Taehyung seems to have encouraged the other bear hybrids to make an actual effort and they at least say hello now. It’s better than the derisive comments of the dog hybrids, or the snooty noses stuck high in the air of the dear hybrids and other exotic breeds. 

- They know Jimin is close to Yoongi and Namjoon, and now he feels even more like an outsider that before (somehow it doesn't matter as much as before). The only ones who don’t act overtly different are the new hybrids; Hoseok and the small lion hybrid. but They were never around to learn how to hate Yoongi in the first place.

- it's a little cute- the way that Hoseok will always shout Yoongi's name in greeting (though you're unsure if that's just his personality now that he's started to grow into himself). Hoseok is unbothered by Yoongi's reaction; to shy away from anything that will draw more attention to himself. But Hoseok's smile is so bright and elastic that even he has a hard time ignoring the otter hybrid. You hope there will be a friendship there eventually, that yoongi will open up to more than just your group. 

- The little lion kit is a new addition too, she's not the only young feline hybrid you have at the farm but she is the friendliest. She gets pretty close to the other cats that work in the kitchen almost instantly. Probably on account of her young age (she's barely 7) and the eldest cat hybrid seems to be particularly fond of the little one.

- She's curious and kind to Yoongi too- excitedly running up to him more than once to show him a little rock or some flower she found- and yoongi will marvel and nod, and if Jimin is near- he'll lean close and tell her how pretty it is. 

- She doesn't seem at all deterred by Yoongi's lack of voice. one day she even sees Jimin, her ears perking up excitedly, tail swishing. "Hello Yoonies voice!" it's a little cute- even if it does make yoongi splutter a little. But she's not exactly wrong; Jimin does talk for yoongi more these days. 

- She Always comes bounding up to you and giggling happily to be picked up. Her little legs stretching around your waist, small bottom sat atop your baby bump. Making you get the kind of look that makes Namjoon, Yoongi, and Jimin sigh and look impossibly fond. They can only imagine what you’re going to be like once your little one is born. Your due date is barely 2 months away.

- In truth- you’re starting to get a little bit big. You say it one morning with Namjoon. After he asks you why you’re looking into the mirror with such a displeased expression. The sound of your terse voices alerts Yoongi and he comes to the door to your bedroom to witness your spat. Making a flippant hand movement at Namjoon to back off. Namjoon could smell your distress on you when you looked in the mirror, his voice tense but breaking. “Baby just tell me, why you think you’re not beautiful like that? let me understand. Cuz to me- you look more irresistible every day.”

- It’s not that you exactly wanted him to agree with you that you were nearing the size of a whale- but this doesn’t help at all either. His unending insistence- doesn’t he see? when he looks in the mirror doesn’t he see what you do? His instance that everything is alright doesn't help when you’re feeling this self-conscious.

- Yoongi helps you, fiddling with Namjoon’s closet for a second before he pulls out an extra-large white shirt of his and helps you into it- tying it loosely over your baby bump so that it flatters your waist a little more. The attention that Yoongi shows you clearly making you flustered. Then he drags you to the mirror, tugging your hair out of its bun, the tension going out of your shoulders.

- Yoongi doesn’t know it, but Namjoon does. Your late husband used to always be so particular about your hair, yanking on it harshly if it was left down. and An easy way to avoid him yanking on it was to leave it up. And sometimes you still pull it up convinced it’s safer even though he’s dead and gone. It’s scary how simple it is- but the second your hair comes down your whole body relaxes.

- All the while Namjoon watches from your bed. And you take in yourself, the baby hairs free-floating against your forehead; Yoongi curls one gently around his finger and then lets it go. You take in the way that the fabric hangs now, making you look a little more proportional, Yoongi gives you a satisfied smile behind your back and you have to sigh and admit it. “Okay- okay- I’ll give you this- I’m not a whale”

- “And even if you where you’d be a pretty whale.” Yoongi has the good sense to hurl a pillow in Namjoon’s direction, but it makes you laugh all the same- the heaviness in your chest abated a little. Your sleeve brushing Yoongi’s as you head downstairs, Namjoon trailing behind.

- The beach trip was a nice distraction from chores but the real work comes crashing down on them the next few days. Your little group feels closer than ever, you rarely part from any of them for long and their intention, their little acts of care never fail to make you feel flustered and taken care of.

- Jimin always holds out a hand for you to take when you’re stepping over uneven ground, Yoongi makes a startled noise whenever you so much as get close to a hose that might trip you, always gesturing for you to pause and take a break whenever you’re working in the garden. Namjoon too, always running back and forth from whatever project he’s working on to check on you and make sure you have water or food.

- At night, Namjoon takes your stretch mark cream from you, rubbing down your baby bump and your hips, the little lines of lighter skin on your waist get little kisses from him.  

- Even if you want just a snack, Namjoon and Yoongi will bring you a full meal- convinced that you need to be eating more than you are. At dinner Yoongi fills up your plate- piling it high with more food then you could fit in your already crowded tummy. And he always eyes you suspiciously when you can’t finish the full plate. Namjoon too will level you with a look- asking if you really are full. 

- Since your pregnancy has progressed, you’ve become a little moodier, and a little hornier whenever way the wind blows. And Namjoon doesn’t help that much at all- and by that you mean, he makes it worse. When he comes out of the field with his shirt off and tucked into his shorts all of his thickness, his muscles that make you ravenous. 

- During lunch one day he drags you away to a forgotten tool shed, though it would be easier just to go up the hill to your bedroom- you feel like teenagers sneaking around like this. 

- Namjoon presses into you as he hits the latch on the door, muffling your giggles with kisses as you hide from the hybrids outside, voices that you can dimly hear, unable to pick out any one particular yet- but you know they're there. 

- You and Namjoon might bicker like an old married couple. But you also act like teenagers gooey and giggly and so so so in love. “Do you think that they can hear you like this? Or smell you, my love?” Namjoon is always quick to tell you how delectable you smell when you’re horny. His more sensitive nose-picking it up the second you feel a slickening between your thighs.

- You’re shaky when you respond. “I don’t know, maybe?” Namjoon always has this passionate intense air about him. He’s slightly possessive- but you’d never fault him for that not when it’s all about protecting and providing for you. Not when he always puts your pleasure first (you feel like you may have turned into a slight pillow princess with him). 

- Namjoon heaves you up onto the edge of a bench and then gets on his knees. Gently lifting your leg over his shoulder. He’s always mindful of how much you can move in your swollen state. He checks to make sure he’s not bending your hips in an uncomfortable way. 

- You put your hands back on the dusty bench to stabilize yourself as you lie back, Namjoon wastes no time in pressing his face close to your cunt and inhaling, His nose prodding at the thin fabric of your underwear. One of his ears caught on the hem of your dress. His fingers digging into the plushness of your thighs- so full and healthy it makes him hard in his pants. 

- He’s slow with the appreciation of your thighs and hips. Hands gripping and moving on to touch and feel like you have all the time in the world. But you hear voices outside the tool shed you’ve commandeered and you could just slip out and go back up to your house- but somehow you like this better. The thought of being discovered stirring an unsure heat in your stomach. 

- You can hear Taehyung's voice, and then- like a shock through your core- you hear Jimin’s. Namjoon can feel your jolt. And you realize- his sensitive ears must have known who it was before your own human ones did. He chuckles- teasing his fingers along the hem of your underwear, almost daring to slip inside.

- You almost whine when you think about what you’re being denied- the harsh pull of his fingers that you’re so addicted too, how thick his fingers and knuckles feel (almost as nice as his cock) when they pull out and push in.

- Yoongi and Namjoon have always had the most lovely hands, it’s strange that when Namjoon touches you- you think about Yoongi’s hands. The way you clench around his fingers at that has Namjoon’s tail wagging. "you're thinking about them aren't you," The way you clench around his fingers at that has Namjoon’s tail wagging. Because yeah; Yoongi and Jimin are apart of Namjoon’s pack too, and bonding and group sex are kind of the same thing to hybrids. You’d found that out the hard way when you’d found a group of cat hybrids all tangled together in the grass the other day.

- Namjoon is always so gentle with you because of your condition, but you find your hips jerking with want. His fingers still when he feels the way your wetness has spilled out the sides. His thumb pressed over your clit teasingly. “smell so good when you're like this So wet my love, are you thinking about them finding you like this?” 

- “Y-yes” you confess, and Namjoon growls, nipping at you through the fabric, the feel of his teeth brushing you, over the sensitive skin. The fabric cushioning the feeling, makes you almost gush, and you know you’ll be shakily legged by the time he lets you get down. And that he won’t let you get away from him until he’s taken care of you in this way, sated you in every sense of the word. 

- But he can also tell how shy you are, the heat under your skin at the thought of being discovered. always unsure how much of your dirty talk is a real want and not just something you like in theory. Namjoon knows the idea of sharing you with the others might seem like the most natural and hottest thing; to love you alongside them. but to you- a human, hybrid sex and hybrid bedroom dynamics aren't as given. 

- So he leans close, sliding your underwear down your legs slowly, letting you feel the heat of his palms on your skin. You're getting worked up a little too quickly, your heaving breaths needy. God damn pregnancy hormones you'd say if you could think beyond the plush feeling of his lips pressing a kiss to your clit. “Gotta clean you up for them, if they smelled you like this- then they’d know wouldn’t they?” 

- You prove Namjoons initial assumption wrong. “What if I-” you whisper- gasping quietly as Namjoon drags the fabric to the side and glides a delicate lick over your folds. “What if I want them to know?” the pleasure thrumming through your body as Namjoon licks up your slit. Namjoon stills, ears perked, eyes flashing in the half-light. The snarl against your cunt loud and echoic.

- The voices outside fall silent and Namjoon doesn't stop his ravenous licking no matter if you have to bite your lip to keep your noises in. One of your hands scrambling to pull at his hair and find something to grip onto and anchor yourself against the onslaught of pleasure. Jimin is the first one to puncture the silence, “What was that?” 

- Then comes Seokjin's voice “all of you- move along- whoever it is they probably don’t want the three of you listening in like a bunch of horn dogs” which is basically a confirmation that they were listening in, and that Yoongi was there too. 

- When you finally exit the toolshed with weak legs, sure you’re going to have to at least got change your underwear. You find a bleary-eyed Seokjin a few dozen feet away, obviously upwind of the toolshed. he levels Namjoon with a tired expression. “You both have dirt on your knees” Namjoon has the good sense to look shy at that. You hastily brush off the spots on his, and he on yours.

- If Jimin and Yoongi smell anything on you later- they don’t say anything and the idea that they might make you feel hot all over whenever they lean in too close. You think you see a blush on Yoongi’s face more than once, and maybe see him adjust his pants out of the corner of your eye, but Jimin seems blissfully unaware.

- You have a check-up at the doctor’s office in the coming days. And although only Namjoon is allowed in the room with you (they have a two-person maximum because the ultrasound room is tiny), Yoongi and Jimin also accompany you. Namjoon comes bounding out after, waving the picture and smiling so so wide, both Yoongi and jimin leaning in close to get a better look- they’re so enamored with the little photo. And when you get home- Namjoon shows anyone that asks how the check-up went, eventually hanging it on one of the two fridges in the kitchen.

- Jimin is the only one who seems to notice the jealous looks- because you went out for ice-cream after and come home with them still partially melting (you’d had another craving- french-fries dunked in ice cream of all things). One of the other hybrids having heard Jimin talk to Tae about the beach trip too. They come to you at the end of the day, 2 bunnies, a cat, a fox and one of the bears- a mish moshed group of hybrids; petitioning you to start the beach trips for everyone.

- You can only fit so many people into the back of your truck so you pick a day and start a raffle for spots. Jimin throws his name into the hat just in case but to his surprise, Yoongi doesn’t. No matter how much Jimin bugs him too; He won’t agree to accompany Jimin to the beach again. Shaking his head with a roll of his eyes back tipped back against the grass, his sunhat crumpled. Offering up a few sweet tomatoes to soothe Jimin’s sour nerves. 

- The peace lasts for a couple of days before they’re right back to treating Yoongi like shit and for some reason, it pisses Jimin off more. No matter how many times he’s heard Namjoon asks Yoongi to please tell him when anything happens. The snake hybrid seems unable to fight back.

- Jimin asks one of the hybrids why she won’t look at Yoongi (after the snake has already gone up the hill to retrieve another dish for dinner) and beyond a startled look, she just says “none of us can smell him” she throws a stack of paper towels down onto the table angrily. The deer hybrid across from them stumbling with their silver wear But she doesn’t need to re-iterate herself. Jimin understands- it’s hard to trust someone who can lie to your face- and in the world of hybrids where emotions can be decreed from a simple sniff, Jimin can’t say he doesn’t see where they’re coming from.

- Doesn’t excuse their behavior, however. After all- Jimin can smell Yoongi’s emotions through his scent and he didn't realize that was something strange until now. To Jimin, Yoongi’s scent is soft and sweet- something gummy and soft like a marshmallow. But that’s probably because he spends so much time with the hybrid. The others only spend so much time around him and are unused to his scent. And the fact that he never talks and never tries to socialize doesn’t help.

- Jimin can’t imagine not wanting to smell more of it- not leaning in whenever the other hybrid passes. Jimin wants to bury his face in Yoongi’s neck and rub his cheek all over it. The same way that Namjoon does to him in the morning if he shows up before he’s changed from his pajamas. And he knows he smells soft like sleep- an alluring smell to the older alpha when he comes down the stairs, ears straight up eyes wide as he takes in all of Jimin's vulnerability.

- and it might have to do with what Taehyung had said- that alphas eat up that sort of thing. 

- Namjoon smells good too, his scent all soft mornings and sleepy walks, the older hybrid large and so pliant in his sleepiness, eyes swollen and face puffy as he hides in Jimin’s shoulder. Sending his pine scent all over so that it sticks to jimin no matter where he is. So that jimin will smell like Namjoon all day. 

- One of the cat hybrids at the sink rolls her eyes. But when you come down the stairs smelling much the same. You touch his arm so softly in passing, like you can’t believe you’re allowed. And Jimin’s senses are a dizzying blur of cream, peaches, pine, and marshmallow. 

- when he goes back to the barns, hazy at being scented by Namjoon so thoroughly. Taehyung levels him with a funny look and a chuckle. "you're more devious than anyone gives you credit for" thought Taehyung means it good-naturedly- it's good to have a friend to ask how to go about flirting with. the other hybrids gathered on the couch in front of the tv; some cartoon playing- pretend like they're not listening in. 

- "How do you know so much when you don't have a pack of your own Tae?" he asks over breakfast, the two of them clutching breakfast burritos on their way to check Tae's bees. Tae doesn't meet Jimin's eyes "you're just lucky- most hybrids dont find a pack so easily Jimin" his words aren’t jealous- only a little patronizing. And Jimin accepts it because he knows he has a lot to learn.

- Taehyung is right- out of all of the hybrids at the farm, there are only a few who have paired up or even made stronger groups or multi-person packs. the bunnies and the cats don't form set generally- though there are a few pairs and more than a few throuples.

- Jimin as caught Yeonjun making out with a tabby more than once- has learned to avoid certain sections of the woods all together because everyone knows that's where the bunny hybrids like to go in the afternoons. The canine hybrids are the only ones who have packs, though there are more than half a dozen loners like jimin and namjoon.

- It's hard for Jimin to cohabitate with them even though there are other larger predators and more than a few prey hybrids living in Jimin's barn. he hadn’t really realized until taehyung pointed it out that each different pack occupied one corner of the punk room. More than once- the room in the barns has felt hostile if only for the packs that have claimed either corner of the bunkroom. it's usual to wake up and find more than one of the pups cuddling with another in one single bed. 

- Having reciprocated love in his pack shouldn't feel like an impossibility to Jimin. But still, when Yoongi steps close- an inch too far away, his fingertips barely brushing- Jimin just- yearns. It’s a soft sort of yearning, the kind that has jimin jumping up whenever Yoongi needs something. Has him settling a think knit blanket over Yoongi’s nobly knees during movie nights, and sticking his own feet underneath the edge of the blanket. Feet Pressed to the clothed line of his calf. Maybe nothing will ever come of it, But Jimin yearns with everything he’s got regardless.

- In the late hours of the night, when Jimin lies awake thinking about the three of you. An instinct welling inside of him that says he should walk up the hill and fall asleep on your couch just to be closer to you three (the pack instinct- Taehyung calls it, looking a little bit sad himself when jimin asks him, the other hybrid moving away before jimin can ask exactly what that means) Jimin wonders if his feelings will ever be reciprocated.

- But love is a strange thing, it’s not just about saying it with kisses or touches- though Jimin wants them too. There is love in the small things, in building something together so that’s what Jimin tries to do. Every day- he takes to gardening with a new vigor. Shouting in joy when you harvest some of the tomatoes- filling up a whole gallon bucket with the amount that have ripened over the last week. Your peppers and cucumbers are beginning to produce more too.

- Jimin and Yoongi run to Namjoon just to give him a handful. The alpha gives each of them a sweet nuzzle in thanks, even if Yoongi chirps and moves back after a moment. A flush high on his cheek. Namjoon looking up at Yoongi from where he’s stopped- cheek on the elder's shoulder. The snake relaxing after a moment. 

- You spend the rest of the day showing Jimin and Yoongi how to prepare the tomatoes to make a sauce, roasting them on low heat. Cutting garlic so so carefully, and whenever Jimin looks across the prep table- Yoongi’s gaze darts away. halfway through- yoongi stoops down, sticking his socked feet into jimin’s lap, and it feels so nice, to have their weight there. 

- You go over to Yoongi at one point, and he tips his head back to look up at you. The back of his head is at the right height to lye up against your baby bump. And Jimin watches, as you slowly, so slowly, brush the hair out of his eyes and away from his forehead. Yoongi’s eyes flutter closed and he tips his face into your hand. Letting out a low happy grumble when you take his action as positive reinforcement, and drag your nails over his scalp. In Jimin’s lap, Yoongi’s toes curl. 

- It feels strange- and Jimin can’t quite put his finger on it- but it almost feels like Yoongi is letting you all touch him more than ever. Suddenly okay with touches- as long as it’s in a more private setting. Jimin can’t say he’s unhappy about it. Maybe one-day yoongi will even let Jimin scent mark him. 

- Jimin smiles at Yoongi’s happy little snake grumbles. And keeps chopping his garlic. Is happy to receive the same kind of scratch from you a few minutes later. Though he might abandon his chopping in favor of rubbing his face all over your stomach when the instinct strikes him. Jimin unintentionally lets out a growl when you start to move away. Slapping a hand over his mouth and apologizing, no matter how you and Yoongi laugh.

- Still, despite the happiness, you have in your kitchen, in your house, whenever you’re around each other. The rest of the world is not so kind.

- An adoption day comes at arguably the worst and best time. There is still a fair amount of friction between your group and the rest of the hybrids. And a few outsiders at the farm only make it worse. Though Yoongi, Jimin, and Namjoon aren’t the only hybrids who wear red stickers to indicate that they are not available for adoption.

- Hoseok surprisingly- grabs a yellow sticker. And the three of your hybrids watch- as Seokjin hovers around him- a red sticker on his own lapel- wary of all and anyone who interacts with the otter hybrid. His glares putting off all but the most attentive patrons. That's where it starts.

- Jimin is unfortunately caught in the middle when seokjin confronts hoseok. off to help the three of them bring down 3 trays of cut watermelon for the hybrids and the patrons. The dinner tables have been set out on the side of the field piled high with Hors d'oeuvre. You’re there with Namjoon greeting the humans. Games are set out too- for the hybrids and humans to play. 

- it’s no secret that they’ve gotten close, and jimin had assumed they’d talked about it- but apparently not. Seokjin is so angry he’s nearly crying. “why- hoseok- why do you want to leave the farm?” Hoseok’s little otter ears are tight against his scalp. “I just- I didn’t want to assume?”

- “Oh- so you’d rather just- throw away everything that we’re trying- all of this- you don’t you dont want to stay do you-” Jimin has never seen seokjin looking so lost, and he knows enough to guess that Seokjin’s anger is at least in part to due to some trauma (later- Jimin will find out that Seokjin’s mother left him with his last owner- an abusive man- to save herself).  

- Jimin knows enough to get in between them, telling them to calm down and spend a minute away from each other. Jimin ends up with Hoseok- “it’s hard Jimin- how do you, how do you have so much sureness with Y/n? with Namjoon and yoongi too? How do you look at them and trust that you should stay?” Hoseok's eyes remain on Jimin's red tag. 

- Jimin sighs, thinking it through, “do you look at Seokjin and know he cares about you? like- do you know it in your bones?” Hoseok bites his lower lip, “yes- but-” 

- “Then you should stay Hoseok,” Jimin walks Hoseok up to the main house where the stickers sit on the prep table. Changing out his yellow one for a red one. And when they head off back down the hill, Seokjin is waiting on the path with Yoongi, apologizing and dragging Hoseok away to the barns where Seokjin’s own private room is. Hoseok goes willingly, smiling up at the older hybrid. His narrow shoulders cuddled under one of Seokjin's wide ones. 

- jimin has to admit, an otter and an alpaca are a weird combination for a hybrid pack (But no stranger than a pair of puppies and a snake). His thoughts drift towards Taehyung- and Jimin hopes that his friend won't end up alone. it must not be easy- to see all of you pair off like this. 

- in some ways, that adoption day is full of just as much bullshit as they usually are. there are always people who dont understand the effort it takes to take care of a hybrid- they aren't just like any ordinary pet. it's easy to spot the ones that view them as pets- and less like people. You get a few rich people looking to adopt a companion as always. 

- A substantial group of families also look to adopt similarly aged companions for their single children. And you agree to more than one possible test weekend. You’re always so particular about letting the children go, so wary and so careful in the way you let them interact with the families.

- Though they don’t have parents here- there are more than a few good role models and parental figures. More than one child chooses a red tag for themselves. And they always know have a right to it- no matter how young they are. You make it clear to the group of them; If they don’t want to be adopted they don’t have to be. 

- You even get one couple- the woman withdrawn and sad, and a slightly jealous look at your own pregnant stomach says more than any words could. It’s pretty common for women who can’t have children to adopt hybrid children. and though some of it doesn't sit right with you, You aren’t one to judge. 

- Jimin spends most of the adoption day helping you balance the need for food and for games. running back and forth to the house to help. Though there is a little work that needs to be done here and there just to keep the farm running as usual. grey storm clouds roll in halfway through the day, puncturing the blue sky- foretelling scattered showers and storms. and jimin hopes it will cut the adoption day short so that you can return to your routines. 

- Jimin is just helping Yoongi putting away a broken badminton net When it happens- Jimin isn’t certain why it does. Only that he hears the words outside the shed after Yoongi's just excited to grab the broken rackets (Namjoon isn't the only clumsy hybrid you have at the farm). 

- “oh sorry- ew gross,” a shrill female voice says, and then he rounds the corner and sees yoongi picking himself up from the dirt- a rich lady and her peacock hybrid looking down at him like he’s the dirt beneath his shoes. The peacock hybrid has Yoongi’s sun hat in his hands and there is another hybrid- a wolf hybrid from the farm with a green sticker on his shirt, who growls down at yoongi.

- His shoulders shake too the way they do when he’s been touched and he doesn’t want to be. Jimin has seen you brush your fingers over the back of Yoongi’s hand, has even felt the coolness of the snake hybrid through the fabric when the elder grabbed his sleeve. Has touched him even more intimately as of late. But he knows that Yoongi can’t tolerate being touched by people he doesn’t trust- doesn’t want to touch him. basically, anyone, that's, not you, Namjoon, or Jimin himself. 

- “Hey- what the fuck!” Jimin spits, grabbing the sunhat out of the hybrid's hand with a growl, his ears flat against his head. If Jimin had elongated canines like Namjoon they would be barred in anger as he shoves the larger hybrid back. Yoongi shrinks impossibly smaller behind him.

- Jimin is hot and itchy from the heat and the humidity, and he really just wants to shower and cool off. He doesn’t have the energy to deal with entitled people today. And more importantly- no one touches Yoongi on Jimin’s watch.

- The hybrid looks surprised to be talked to in that way, he’s nearly a head taller than Jimin let alone the slightly taller feathers that poke out of the top of his head that give him the appearance of several more inches- but Jimin’s intimidating enough with his set expression to send the hybrid huffing away. Feathers fluffed.

- The peacock's iridescent feathers stand up on end as he grabs the hand of his human owner, her diamond tennis bracelet glittering in the sunlight. “This was getting boring anyway. Sorry” he tosses over his shoulder at the canine hybrid, who looks so disappointed his ears pinned back against his head. They only give him that- barely a look, before they’re heading off down the hill in the direction of the line of cars parked on the grass.

- The wolf hybrid deflates audibly- watching the woman and the other hybrid disappear down the hill. promises of home and family disappearing in a moment, but Jimin has to think- if they’d be discouraged so easily- were they really worth it? The wolf hybrid doesn't seem to think so- Turning his angry tear-filled eyes on Jimin. 

- But Jimin can see the hate in his eyes and knows not to mistake the tears for only sadness. “You both ruin everything” he growls out- before they too run back towards the barns- no doubt to tell the others how Yoongi had sabotaged their adoption. Even though that was far from the truth. in all honestly- yoongi just bumped into the lady- or more probably- the lady bumped into him when he was on his way out of the shed.

- Jimin holds out his sunhat to Yoongi, who takes it from Jimin carefully, Jimin doesn’t linger on the fact that his hand still shakes. Jimin’s hand lingers somewhere close enough where Yoongi could touch it could reach out if he wants too. If he wants to get that kind of comfort from Jimin's touch- then Jimin will willingly give it. 

- a faint flush coats the elder's cheeks. Oh no- he must be overheating then, Jimin feels a rush of concern. He knows what you would do, hover your hand close enough to Yoongi’s forehead, usher him upstairs for a break in the air conditioning, and a glass of icy lemonade.

- All they can hear is the shouts of laughter at the games the others play in the fields, “I understand why you don’t want to stay in the barns, why you don’t want to socialize with some of them, they’re so unkind to you it makes me crazy.” Jimin shakes his head, sour anger filling him like a rotten peach.

- Yoongi, looks more than pacified, looking up at Jimin with an indecipherable look. Most of the time, Jimin can get a good guess on how he’s feeling but not now- not that indecipherable heaviness he finds there. or the strangely heavy marshmallow scent that’s fluffed around them. Jimin lets go of Yoongi’s hat.

- After a moment Yoongi nods, and Jimin takes it as a thank you. They’re done for the day and dinner won’t be for another few hours or so. Jimin is ready to avoid some of the strangers and hopefully take advantage of the empty showers. The sky is grey with incumbent storm clouds when Jimin makes his way to the shower buildings which he finds blissfully empty; except for the bear hybrid Jackson that tosses a greeting at Jimin before exiting.

- Jimin doesn’t even bother to flick the lights on, instead of settling for the calm light that comes through the skylights, grey and hazy. the storm clouds have started to roll in properly. He hums as he disrobes, goes to grab his favorite strawberry body wash, and picks the last shower at the end, disrobing in relative comfort, glad for a moment of privacy.

- The blissfully Coldwater does wonders for his overheating muscles, relaxing his body deliciously from a day spent walking up and down the hill. he digests the chaos of the day- seokjin and hoseok fighting, yoongi getting shoved. you'd looked frazzled the last time he'd seen you, smile strained as you made small talk with most of the humans, Namjoon always close incase you needed someone to lean on.

-  Jimin had been able to tell that your feet were sore just by looking at you. Namjoon will probably make you sit down before long, maybe he already has. You’ll probably cut off the adoption day because of the rain. Taking down names and information before you send them on their way. You rarely let a hybrid leave the farm after one adoption day, needing to have more private meetings and house calls to willingly part with one of them. You just want to make sure you dont release them back into another abusive household. 

- He hums as he washes, lingering in the water and taking a longer shower than he usually would. He hums, testing the way his vocal cords wrap around the acoustics of the empty high ceilinged room. 

Then he hears the scuffling of someone in the bathroom too and cuts off. A little abashed at being caught. The rustling getting closer and its a moment before he realizes that the rustling is coming from his own section of the bath. he smells him the second before he pulls the shower curtain gets pulled back. 

- “Yoongi!” Jimin shouts, furiously grabbing at something to cover his nakedness. Jimin furiously tries to cover his crotch, grabbing one of the large bargain bottles of shampoo and hold it there even as cold water runs over his face. Getting into his wide eyes. “Yoongi what the fuck! You’re naked!”

- Jimin is glad that the rumors about snake hybrids having double the appendages as a normal hybrid are false but he can’t stop his blush or his wandering eyes as he sees the snake hybrid in full. Or the hot lick of arousal that shocks him through his core- especially when he recognizes the heaviness to Yoongi's scent as being arousal. 

- there is a single moment, jimin can smell yoongi- can see the want in his eyes, can feel his own scent fluff out to meet his, yoongi sags under the weight of Jimin's scent as the surprise dissipates. "do you-" Jimin's face must be brighter than a tomato. He reaches out a tentative hand, "do you want to-" 

- Before Jimin can do much more than that Yoongi’s lips are on his, tentative but firm and passionate, the fire leaking into him from Yoongi as jimin stumbles in surprise. The kiss tastes like thank you and Ive wanted to do this for longer than i care to admit and everything yoongi can't say, can't let slip past his lips. jimin drops the shampoo bottle which narrowly misses his foot as Yoongi’s hands come up to encircle his jaw so softly like Yoongi is holding the most important thing in his world. Jimin is so shocked that for a moment- he doesn’t kiss back and Yoongi retracts- not before Jimin chases his lips and the snake hybrid returns to him.

- It’s the first time Yoongi’s ever touched Jimin so bare, and the snake’s hands on the back of his neck feel cold and shivery but good. As Jimin’s back hit’s the wall and their fronts press together for a moment, just brushing. Then colliding with more force as they both realize how good it feels to be so close to someone you trust. It’s dizzying- intoxicating, and Jimin knows his mouth is moving sloppily even if he wants to kiss Yoongi with just as much intent. 

- The snake hybrid bites- actually bites- down on Jimin’s tongue. And a strangled whine comes to live and die in his throat. A snarl in his ears from Yoongi's mouth as the snake hybrid keeps his biting, moves to Jimin's throat- bites hard Enough that Jimin knows he'll leave a bruise. "leave more- yoongi please mark me" jimin feels hot with the thought of it- the thought of all the other hybrids being able to smell yoongi on his scent gland. 

- Jimin doesn’t know where to put his hands, he knows enough to know that Yoongi doesn’t like to be touched and unsure if it extends to right now. but it seems okay if he’s doing the touching. His hands sliding down Jimin's back to his waist. He’s a good kisser, the best that Jimin’s ever kissed (not that there have been many) and he tips his head forward to put as much scalding force as he can into it when yoongi leaves his neck in favor of his mouth, trying to match Yoongi’s intensity even if he can’t match his skill.

- Yoongi takes a step forward, and Jimin’s cock brushes his hipbone, and he can’t stop the way his hips jump at the contact, brushing into Yoongi further. Jimin’s blood boils with arousal. Yoongi is equally as hard compared to Jimin. And Jimin doesn't know if its water or precum that he feels on his skin. Can't look down to check.

- By the time Yoongi leans back and finishes running his fingers through Jimin’s hair and over his shoulders. Jimin’s so wound up he feels like he’s about the pass out. The cool water cascading over his back doing nothing to settle him. Yoongi moves his hips- testing the waters, as he grinds, works jimin’s hips into an unsteady rhythm. and jimin moans. 

- Yoongi pulls back, looking at jimin, their noses brushing, like he can’t bear to have jimin farther away from him than this, want heavy in his eyes, and Jimin tastes the words on Yoongi’s lips as good as if he’d said them. “Yoongi” jimin breathes. Palms pressed carefully to the shower wall so that he won’t reach out and yank Yoongi closer. But he’s Weak against the wake of this of all this feeling.

- “fuck- kiss me again- can we- ” Jimin feels strung out, his body heavy with something like heat- maybe Jimin is actually having a heat and it’s not just in his imagination (he wouldn't really know what it felt like- never having had one before because of his malnutrition). But This kind of kissing is certainly enough to trigger one.

- Yoongi opens his mouth for a second, almost like he’s about to speak- or to try to, Jimin’s never been sure if he can- if it’s muteness or just Yoongi being selective. And then in the next moment, Yoongi’s gone, almost tripping on his way out of the showers with how fast he’s leaving jimin. A whine dies in his throat and jimin starts after him, But then Yoongi turns back. Gesturing with a hand for jimin to stay put. Yoongi looks angry, and it takes a moment for Jimin to realize that the anger wasn’t directed at jimin- only at Himself.

- Jimin stays in the shower, water thundering down around him as the sky overhead thunders too. Jimin listens to the faint sound of Yoongi dressing and then leaving the showers. Jimin lets him go. So sure that he has absolutely no idea what just happen- or even if he didn’t imagine the whole thing.

- jimin’s hand on himself doesn't feel nearly good as Yoongi’s did. 

- Yoongi’s hands shake all the way back up the hill, and he hopes his wet hair won’t be too suspicious especially when a mixed group of hybrids crosses his path. Returning to the barns as most of the adoption day festivities have ended.

 - Yoongi’s careful to keep his eyes averted. And like usual- the conversation comes to a halt when Yoongi passes them by. It no longer bugs him the way it might have once. They have a good reason not to want to associate with him. Yoongi’s body shakes with the weight of the things he’s done and the things he’s going to do.

- you gather with 3 families on your porch as you take down their names and contact information. You send yoongi a concerned look as he quickly heads inside the house. Pausing only for a moment before he decides to go to Namjoon first. Later- later he’ll ask you too. 

- Stupid- he’s been so stupid recently. Touching you- indulging in these short sweet touches because he wants more so badly. Knows he can never have it doesn’t stop the wanting. If his owner ever found out what he’s done- if she ever found out what he’d almost done with jimin- she’d surely have Jimin’s hands for it. 

- And as much as Yoongi wishes it were any other way- Jimin almost touching him does remind him of far worse times. Though he’d been the one to initiate it this time- the memories still linger. 

- Times when foreign hands touched his skin as he’d thrashed and screamed trying to protest against the taunting words of his owner. “I’ve never been interested in snake dick but if you want him for tonight you can have him- just be careful- he bites” and he shakes with those memories. Though its been many years. like most kinds of torture- eventually, his owner had grown bored with using yoongi's body as a bargaining chip. Yoongi wonders if he’s ever going to be able to be touched that way without feeling the revulsion at his own body.

- Jimin had come close, but he'd known- known that yoongi didn't want him to touch him. Had seemed more than willing to be touched himself. the revulsion hadn't hit him until the end. 

- The places he’s been touched without his consent feel black and decaying- or like ink, every time someone touches him- Yoongi’s surprised that ink doesn’t come away on your hands soft and delicate. But it didn’t change the fact that Yoongi wanted it- and wants it still. 

- he wants to see you soft and sated the way you look sometimes in the morning when he can smell Namjoon on you- wants to cause it- maybe, someday in the future if you'll let him. He knows you’d be gentle with him. Wouldn’t put your hands anywhere he didn’t want. Would check in with him- going as slowly or as quickly as he wanted too. Namjoon would be able to be gentle too- Yoongi’s sure of it.

- He wants it, even though he knows that want only put you all in danger. He’s an incredibly selfish person. He hopes he never gets to have that intimacy with you, for your sake.

- yoongi should only let himself dream of something good before he goes- sinks back into that life. But the temptation for more is too strong sometimes, his want filling him up like sticky sweet syrup that pollutes every moment. 

- Namjoon is on the second floor of your house and Yoongi takes the stairs two at a time. Folding laundry in what will one day be the nursery for your child. He’s taken the ultrasound up here now- hung it up so he can look at it. and Yoongi is reminded of A few days ago when he gushed about the development of your child to Yoongi in the kitchen comparing them to the size of a fruit. “a cute little cantaloupe- the cutest little cantaloupe”

- You and Namjoon have made the decision not to find out the gender, but the walls of the nursery are still pained blue, puffy clouds above and little flowers below, dandelions and daisies, a stalwart sunflower that curls over the arch of the door half-finished. Yoongi knows you work on the mural it whenever you can. But Namjoon gets a little paranoid about the fumes- you compromise and keep the windows open along with the door to your balcony to allow as much air circulation as possible.

- The crib, a fluffy white thing is already piled into the corner. And Yoongi remembers the first few weeks here when you and Namjoon had overzealously ordered it. He’d come downstairs after dinner one night and found both of you puzzling over the directions. And he’d shooed Namjoon away as he’d helped you put it together. The three of you ending up giggly and punch drunk tired by the time it was fully put together. And then had to carry it all the way up the stairs. 

-A mobile of little felted flowers that Seokjin made you as a thank you present a hangs above the empty Crib- colorful and cute. And Namjoon has set the laundry on the unused changing table in neat stacks. All of the other furniture is piled into the center of the room so that you can paint the walls. He turns when he hears Yoongi, his tail swishing.

- “Hey Yoon- what you get caught in a rainstorm or something?” the rain splatters against the windows with a soft patter and Yoongi drips onto the floor. He never bothered to dry off after the unintentional shower with jimin. Yoongi makes a shrug that means ‘something like that’ and if the younger hybrid hovers on the way that Yoongi’s lips look a little kiss bitten and swollen he doesn’t say a thing. Namjoon knows better than anyone- what they talk about and what they don’t.

- He hands over the slip of paper; “jimin should move into the main house, you and I could clean out one of the storage rooms and move the stuff into the attic.”

-  Yoongi watches Namjoon’s eyes rove over the words a few times. The hybrid purses his lips, “I’ve talked to Y/n about this- and she agrees- but I don’t know if he wants too? He seems pretty comfortable in the barns, he likes Taehyung and they’re friends. and we kind of want to leave it up to him if we can.”

- Yoongi snatches the paperback from him, annoyance flickering in his chest as he rolls his eye. Didn’t Namjoon see that nothing would change if they didn’t push him a little? Jimin is the type to take that kind of abuse again and again if it means not making a fuss. And Yoongi knows it’s only a matter of time before something happens again. He turns it over onto the other side and using the wall as a place to write.

- “He’s already being treated differently because of me” 'me' being double underlined- so that Namjoon really understands what he’s trying to say. Yoongi just wants to make sure Jimin is safe before he goes. Before he needs to leave and before it gets too dangerous and too near a time when his owner will physically retrieve him. Not that Namjoon knows that Yoongi’s presence has an expiration date. Namjoon searches Yoongi’s face for a source to his desperation and finds none.

- Yoongi has never felt worse for keeping secrets. Maybe in another world- Yoongi would have confessed and asked Namjoon, with all of his connections to the police, for help. Yoongi knows enough to put the whole crime system out of whack and yet. Years of negative reinforcement and beatings have taught him to keep his mouth shut and that isn’t going to change now; not when Yoongi’s life isn’t the only one at risk and he knows you’ll all live if he plays by the rules. He doesn't care about his own safety anymore. 

- The second he sees Yoongi’s distraught expression Namjoon steps closer Taking off his flannel and tugging it around his shoulders. Namjoon might not make moves to scent mark Yoongi but dressing him in his clothes is as good as he gets. Namjoon’s comforting alpha scent fluffs around him.

- Yoongi wonders if jimin feels the pull the same way he does. Dynamics are more mobile in snake hybrids and downright non-existent in humans. but they’re more set in canines. Namjoon puts his hand on Yoongi’s clothed arm and Yoongi shuffles close after a second. His nose centimeters from Namjoon’s neck taking in deep breathes to try and steady himself. He didn’t realize he was shaking.

- “It will be alright Yoongi, I promise. He’s gonna be safe.” Namjoon adds quieter. And below them both- in the first floor of the house, he can hear your voice, echoing louder and laughing at some sort of joke, Namjoon’s tail starts wagging at the suggestion of you. “I want them to feel safe too.”

- Yoongi wants to write “he should take my room- I won’t be staying in it soon anyway.” but Yoongi needs to make sure- before he leaves. Jimin has to be included in your little pack. He doesn’t want to think- about what the three of you will go through when he eventually has to leave. The days are counting down to the end of the summer. 

- He’s fucking selfish, so selfish, to kiss Jimin like that when he knows he won't be able to stay in the hybrids life. He’s selfish every time he begs affection off you, every day he keeps Namjoon Company when he’s cleaning up the other barns. Yoongi writing out words in the dust when Namjoon asks him questions. Eyes only searching when Namjoon turns his back. Looking for any sort of hidden compartment. Completing his task even if it’s the last thing he wants to do. Betraying you like this.

- Jimin spends the rest of the day wondering if the kiss with Yoongi was just a dream. But later at dinner, Yoongi won’t meet his eyes, and jimin knows he didn’t imagine the kiss. Guilt sticks to Yoongi, more distracting than honey stuck between your fingertips.

- Both of them go to sleep still thinking about the kiss. Jimin wondering if it will happen again and Yoongi thinking that he’d like it too. His fingers running over his lower and upper lips, mind awash with the memory of jimin’s mouth on his. And night falls heavy like a weighted blanket on the farm. The sky a big sheet with holes poked through for stars. A heavenly breeze tempting away the summer heat.

- All of the hybrids safe and snoring in their beds. Some even paired- if they’ve got it. Two furry bodies packed close on a single bed. Some even dream of homes they mind one day live in or of the people that one day they’ll get to love. The idea of being kept and treasured lulling them into a drowsy haze of anticipation and security. 

- That night, Namjoon knocks on Yoongi’s door. the hybrid leaning up against the doorframe as he watches the snake get ready for bed. “you know... you could sleep in our room if you want, we have an air conditioner in there too.” yoongi has a notepad ready, he knows that Namjoon likes to open all the windows and even the door to your balcony to let the fresh air in so that it feels like you're sleeping outside. He steels himself to think of someone other than himself before he writes- “I’m okay- thanks though” Yoongi writes out. 

- Namjoon lifts one of Yoongi’s blankets to his neck before he leaves, thoroughly scents marking it before he leaves it with Yoongi. And Yoongi sleeps easy that night with his nose pressed to the blanket. Safe and secure in his room. Nothing bad happens to yoongi that night even though he cuddles close to the blanket, and when he wakes in the morning. his heart beats a steady thumping rhythm- his whole body humming with anticipation. 

- It’s different to feel excited about being in love, excited for a day spent close to the people he cares about. And he knows he won't take a single day for granted. 

- The crickets and cicadas chirping in the field. And in a low tone on the tree outside, a morning dove gentle and unassuming. The sun rising over the hills. Tastes of idyllic and smells of Eden. Like lavender and honey.

- A hand outstretched, scrambling in the dirt before it goes still, fingers just a few inches from safety. Blood mixing in with the sand. The morning is not perfect for everyone.

- But even you would say the morning was peaceful, if not for the dead body dumped at the end of your driveway. 

Kofi

[newtonsheffield]

not to add my voice to the crowd begging for a version of insufferable from anthony's pov but that last hc/ficlet you posted was too adorable. we just want to see that dumbo piiiiiiiiine for kate! if it doesn't make us greedy little fic monsters, i think i speak for us all when i say we're down for more of that whenever you want to share!

Oh you wanna see Anthony pine for Kate? Girl, That boy has more pines that a Christmas tree farm. As he should! Katharine Grace Sheffield is a hell of a woman and she deserves someone to simp after her like a little puppy dog. Which brings me to an interesting point: Were Anthony a puppy, what kind of puppy would he be? My money is on Bernese Mountain dog. Looks huge an imposing but is, at heart, a people pleaser. 

Anyway, I have stalled long enough. Y’all wanna see Anthony trying to work up the courage to ask Kate out? 

Anthony had been fighting the urge to call Kate ever since he left her side last week. His thumb had hovered over the contact Kate Sheffield (Work) about a hundred different times but he hadn’t been able to force himself to go through with it. His mind had drifted to her constantly, how she’d looked when she’d woken up from her nightmare, tears in her eyes, in her voice, as she whispered secrets about herself. How her hand gripping his had felt so ridiculously right, how she’d wrapped her arms around him tightly, and he could feel her breathing steadily next to him. He just couldn’t stop thinking about her. 

And then she’d looked so happy, so relieved, when Edwina had woken up that his own heart had let out a sigh of relief as well. Not only for a girl he’d known since she was barely an adult but for Kate to have been saved some pain as well. It was as though, in the matter of a week everything had shifted, everything in his life revolved around something, someone else. But he hadn’t called, because he couldn’t decide if the look of longing that he’d seen in her eyes as he’d left the hospital room had actually been there, or whether he’d just desperately wished she felt the same way he did. And besides, Kate had enough to worry about. 

So instead of calling Kate he settled for the next best thing... bothering Lucy about whether she had spoken to Kate. Subtly of course, he wasn’t completely tactless. He’d sidled up to Lucy in the tea room and greeted her, casually. “Morning, Lucy.” And Lucy had glanced in his direction, giving him the unfortunate impression that she might know exactly what this was about for a split second before she smiled. “Good morning, Mr. Bridgerton.” Good start, something nonchalant should do. “Busy Day?” He said, his eyes trained on the magnets on the fridge. Lucy raised her eyebrows sceptically at him.  “Not really given that Kate’s... working from home.” She said slowly, a tiny little smirk starting on her lips. Anthony cleared his throat uncomfortably. “Oh so... You’ve... spoken to Kate?” Anthony said, making a feeble attempt at nonchalance as he dunked his teabag in his mug, almost too terrified to look at the woman beside him who was startlingly commanding for so young a person. He heard a little scoff and then a  “Yes, I’ve spoken to Kate.” Lucy snatched up her mug, her footstep retreating and then “And I’ve sent flowers to Edwina... From us all.” She tossed over her shoulder and Anthony felt a stab of gratitude towards Lucy Abernathy, even if she was uncomfortably astute. 

Sadly, the rest of the week had progressed in a similar manner, only Lucy had taken to tutting  “No, I haven’t heard from Kate in the last 3 minutes!” whenever he passed her desk and looked hopefully at her. And yes, perhaps he had spent a little bit of time on the weekend looking at Kate’s instagram page, and been a little disappointed that there had only been a picture of Edwina’s cast, Kate’s handwriting, familiar from the vicious scribble his memos were usually returned with, sprawling across it. But now she was coming back, and it was ridiculous Anthony knew but his heart had been doing an odd little stutter all morning. And maybe he’d spent a little longer this morning selecting his tie and pocket square, and maybe he was lingering at reception a little longer than normally, exchanging pleasantries with Hermione, It wasn’t stalking if you had to be in the same office anyway right? And then  “Good morning, Kate!” Lucy’s voice called out and Anthony’s head had spun, abruptly cutting off whatever Hermione was saying.

And there she was. It was odd really, how you could look at the same person a hundred times and still your heart thundered away. She was smiling at Lucy, as they exchanged pleasantries, catching up on the week, The sunlight was leaking through the windows in the foyer and the sun was shining in her hair and her skin was glowing golden brown and her eyes were shining and God it was all he could do not to scream out I want to be your boyfriend!  Anthony cleared his throat, forced himself to stay calm Perhaps one date, first Anthony He hissed at himself and stepped forward.  “Good morning, Kate.” The softness in his own voice surprising him. And Kate seemed to still a little, turning towards him just slightly, her head tilting curiously her eyes cautious.

“Good morning, Anthony.” Her voice was soft as well, the same voice she’d used when she’d asked him to stay with her, When she’d been so close he could feel the warmth of her next to him. And now there was nothing but distance between them. He could feel Lucy’s eyes flicking curiously between them as silence swelled in the space. Anthony shifted uncomfortably though their gazes were still tangled together. “I umm, I hope Edwina’s recovering.” He said awkwardly, cursing himself, but Kate seemed not to notice, or perhaps she was feeling too awkward herself at the memory of what had passed between them in a hospital room.  “She is, yes. Thank you.” More silence, as she tucked a strand of her hair that had fallen over her eyes back. Anthony’s hands had twitched to do the same. The lift let out a soft ding and whatever had been building between them seemed to rush from the room as the doors open. Kate startled slightly. 

“Well I better Umm...Lucy?” She said, gesturing into the office glancing around for her assistant as though she’d only just remembered she was there. Anthony had quite forgotten she was there himself. Lucy was biting back a smile as she breezed past Anthony further into the office  “I’m afraid I had to reschedule most of your meetings for this week so we’re in for a bit of a mammoth effort...” Lucy was already saying as she lead Kate away, no recognition of Anthony standing there, his heart in his hands desperately trying to thrust it into Kate’s. Just as Kate passed he heard himself whisper “Have a good Day, Kate.” And the look she’d had in her eyes when she looked at him over her shoulder just before she left the foyer would be, he was sure, branded into his mind forever.   

[phoenixtakaramono]

Hi! :) I was reading your post about SQH in TUT and it got me thinking. Since this version also wrote SVSSS, when he transmigrates does he realize his "dream" was real? Also, you hinted that he recognizes SY as the same person who transmigrated into SQQ, so now I'm wondering if he tells SY that, and how SY would react to learning he's the protagonist of SVSSS in another universe. I just love thinking about how meta this could potentially get, haha.

Can't wait to find out more! Keep up the good work!

(Follow-Up Post to: Part I, Part II)

@the-legend-of-chel 👏👏👏 Luv, good to see you in my Asks! I’m glad to hear that you’re looking forward to finding out more in The Untold Tale! And thanks for your support and encouragement. 💖

(TUT ch1 - Excerpt)

You’re right. There is a lot of meta potential with older!Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky being the MXTX equivalent in this AU—or, rather, I like to imagine him growing up to be the Stephen King equivalent of modern day China with a prolific portfolio of written works (novels and short stories, and extras). In canon, he churned out a great number of words per chapter and in a speedy amount of time! Do you guys know how miraculous that is, as a writer? I envy him so much! To be able to churn out that much content in a short amount of time, and in a scheduled regimen, is amazing! That’s basically my angle having written this into the prologue of TUT. That’s partially the reason why I wrote ch1. I liked the idea of paying homage to SVSSS and saying that it’s an actual book series in TUT universe that Airplane wrote (as funny as the idea would be, I wasn’t about to let SY be the one to write it, lol, for intellectual property reasons since the PIDW characters belong to Airplane, which would necessitate SY changing names and character appearances if he published what we know as irl SVSSS, so the best I can give SY is saying he wrote his own PIDW fanfic which basically launched his novelist career because he’d realized, hey, I actually have a knack for writing and the ever so spiteful I feel like practically every writer has had this thought before: fine, if I don’t see what I want to read, then I’ll write it myself!)

(TUT ch1 - Excerpt)

We’re approaching TUT spoiler territory so skip below if you don’t wish to be spoiled.

TUT (Meta) Spoilers

I personally love meta. If I’m to be writing a lovestory to SVSSS, there will be attempts at meta thrown into TUT. And this is one of them:

Airplane did “dream” about canon SVSSS. He basically “dreamt” about his favorite black powder fan, Peerless Cucumber

changing events of Airplane’s biggest regret Proud Immortal Demon Way. (As a writer, it embarrasses me to read my old writing. So I imagine it could be the same for Airplane.) As an author, Airplane recognized what he dreamt had potential to be a commercial success as a danmei transmigration story so basically every time he woke up, he would write pieces of what he remembers in a dream journal when the memory was fresh in his brain. It also allowed Airplane the opportunity to show his readers through the perspective of SY! Shen Qingqiu what Airplane had originally wanted to write, but integrated in a way that blends seamlessly into the reading experience. He would’ve thought it was a bit weird and strange that his brain dreamt about his past critic—whom he’d considered a small celebrity in the PIDW forums back then—aka his anti-fan-turned-accomplished-novelist in the writing industry, so he felt embarrassed that his unconscious brain must have thought very highly of the man.

So Airplane omitted any mention of Peerless Cucumber from the final draft of SVSSS (if he mentioned both “Shen Yuan” and “Peerless Cucumber,” then even SY would be like, Hey, wait one moment....). This detail will be included in a later chapter, but did you know the name “Shen Yuan” has come up in other works? Let’s ignore the variations on the Chinese written characters for the name “Shen Yuan.” There was the evil older brother character Shen Yuan from The Rebirth of the Malicious Empress of Military Lineage, a side character named Shen Yuan from a C-drama (I think he was an old minister?), and there’s even an irl visual artist named Shen Yuan. Shen Yuan (Shen Garden) is also a famous romantic garden in Shaoxing, known for the love story between Lu You and Tang Wan.

(Shen Yuan Garden - Trip Advisor Review)

Basically “Shen Yuan” in itself is not a particularly uncommon name in China (imo I would not say it’s super popular either). So when SY saw his name mentioned once or twice in Airplane’s SVSSS—aka rebooted PIDW—during his read-through, he was like, Huh, what a strange coincidence. And then dismissed it as circumstantial and thought nothing of seeing his name come up in a cutsleeve novel as the new protagonist, haha. It’s like a book written by Anne Rice; one of the titles coincidentally has the same name as mine. Now, obviously the book and main character is not based or inspired by me; I just coincidentally share the same name. If I see books which have characters with my same first name, generally I like to read them and sometimes even collect them for my bookshelves. Because there’s something just so fun and interesting about seeing your own name in a fictional piece of work.

There’s also meta joke potential about Airplane dreaming of himself being transmigrated into the cannon fodder Shang Qinghua and seeing the romantic miscommunications between the younger version of himself (his self-insert essentially) and the fictional Mobei jūn character. I can certainly say seeing such dreams would make Airplane question his sexuality and awaken something dormant in him, haha. He’d realize he might not be not as straight as he thought he was, if his brain was capable of dreaming of SY!SQQ being crushed on by LBH, and SQH being crushed on by MBJ and essentially following MBJ around calling him “my king” this and “my king” that. He’ll be sweating bullets when he meets this world’s version of MBJ, because Airplane will definitely remember how the younger Self-Insert version of himself acted toward MBJ in the SVSSS world. (It’s the classic “Just because I dreamed about it happening doesn’t mean it’ll happen here, right? ...Right? Cucumber brother, you’re a fortuneteller! Please check our eight characters for me! I have to know my marriage compatibility with Mobei jūn!”)

In a later chapter, there will be the reveal where Airplane tells Shen Yuan that he “dreamt” of a universe where a younger version of Shen Yuan—having choked on mantou (馒头) (paying homage to the donghua) or just being transmigrated in general after raging at a younger ASTTS’s writing (paying homage to the books)—transmigrated into the Shen Qingqiu we know from SVSSS who married Bing mèi. Because I think it will be hilarious when TUT’s SY finds out about the true source of Airplane’s inspiration, and he’ll naturally freak out over the fact that this is the very same Bing gē from Airplane’s Bing-gē vs Bing-mèi extra and that he’s essentially somehow stumbled on the same path as the alternative younger SY!SQQ “from Airplane’s imagination.” I will leave this open to interpretation if this does show up (it’s just an idea I’m playing with) but I might hint that there might be a higher power at play which allowed Airplane a peek into another universe—which manifested as his dreams.

I very much like this dynamic (we might see this exchange, verbatim, in a future chapter in TUT):

SY/ LBH —> He gave him a disdainful gaze.

Airplane cried inwardly at the oppression and the feeling of being wronged.

Haha, none of this is really Airplane’s fault^ though. It’s a fun parallel and if I’m still motivated when we get to the wedding and consummation chapter, we might see an epilogue where SY and Bing gē from TUT meets SY!SQQ and Bing mèi maybe. Because I think it’ll be funny with the two LBHs getting into a shouting/ fighting match about who has the “superior Shen Yuan” while the two SYs just shake their heads at their silly husbands (and potentially TUT’s SY, as the older party, can impart his fortunetelling wisdom and advice to SY!SQQ).

Personally I can’t wait when we get to those chapters, because I know it’ll be entertaining to write, haha. Personally TUT is a fun project because there’s just so much meta potential that can be incorporated and I have a lot of fun imagining the scenarios.

*Note: like always, keep in mind that these are just my current thoughts. Details are subject to change; things aren’t considered official until they show up in the final draft on AO3. :)

The Novelists’ First Impressions

The first impression SY and Airplane will have of each other will be fun. Because in their perspective, written in my notes it’s essentially like:

(Airplane seeing SY):

His first reaction was shock. Shock because the mere mortal he used to be could not conceive so much charisma being emitted by this guy.

This is definitely a man who had put all of his stats into CHARISMA.

(SY seeing Airplane):

He's suspiciously good looking in ways that normal people are not.

Ah, the Cucumberplane friendship in TUT is going to be so much fun. Not only are these two older souls who transmigrated (both are mid-aged in this universe), they’re both accomplished novelists in their own right in the writing industry. Which means with these two being celestial beings, there’s so many clichés we can playfully poke fun at.

It also makes me laugh because imagine being SY, and seeing a guy (mortal!Airplane) who exudes the same energy as these two imperial princes GIFs:

[honeymoonjin]

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ot7 x reader || ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 11.3k || ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: smut - rated 18+

sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ:

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Congratulations! You’ve been accepted as the Lady in the first season of The Gentlemen.

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banner designer @jamaisjoons​ | many thanks to @joonsrack​ for her translations and @jooneggs​ for beta reading

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: just a heads-up, there is French in this chapter. it isn’t translated because y/n does not speak French and thus has no clue wtf goes On BUT if you want the goss, feel free to use google translate or ur Local Translation Engine. explicitly sexual content, cursing, voyeurism, exhibitionism, filmed sex, spanking, dom!jimin obv, sub!reader, public (not sex-sex but sexytimes in public), shoe kink, dirty talk, humiliation, degradation, use of safeword, teasing, bondage, gagging, use of sex toys, fingering, multiple orgasms, forced orgasms, overstimulation, crying during sex, unprotected sex, creampie, squirting, a sexy sliver of aftercare before yn zonks it

FAN FAVOURITE

On the sixth Day of every Week in the game, the Audience Fan Favourite vote is released for 48 hours following the post of the fic. Please note, this is NOT the elimination vote, which is taken on the seventh Day of each Week.

Please vote for your favourite member in the house according to Week One only. Vote here. Multiple votes are allowed but please do not spam the voting as this is an overall audience pick. I’m very excited to see what the results will be ! Voting is closed! Thank you for participating!

DAY SIX

You wake up early in the morning to a sore throat. Though the arm that rests heavy on your waist and the breath that tickles the nape of your neck tempt you back to sleep, you can’t even swallow without wincing, and the only solution is a cool drink and some pain meds. 

Namjoon doesn’t react when you slip out from under him, sliding your pillow under his arm. He simply lets out a satisfied hum and curls it closer to him. Still, you dress in breathy silence, tiptoeing out and leaving the door open a crack for your return. 

Downstairs, the blinking numbers on the microwave read shortly before 6am and you groan. The chance of you getting any more sleep after this was slim.

You pour some water and swallow some basic pain meds with a sigh. If you were honest, quiet moments like this were rare. Past the glass sliding door which leads to the outdoor dining area, you can see glints of reddy golds and flaming orange, pooling between trees to warm the concrete patio. This villa was truly beautiful, and you knew you’d never stay in a place like it again. Not only the house itself but the company you shared was invaluable. All the guys had such a personality to them, and you were surprised at how quicky you’d grown accustomed to them all. Fond, too.

Yoongi’s thoughtfulness, Jungkook’s energy, Jin’s stability. Taehyung who was so giving and Hoseok who never let the mood falter. And more recently, Namjoon becoming more confident and Jimin revealing flecks of heart behind the stone facade. Everyone brought something to the villa that made it a truly magical place. You feel like you’d be happy even without the mind-blowing sex. As the elimination day draws painfully close, your stomach turns with the thought of turning someone away. Of removing them when they’d only just gotten settled. The Lady was the hardest job in the game in many ways. 

Finishing your glass, you set it in the sink with a wet clink and roll your shoulders, arching your back as the last of your sleep leaves you in a final yawn. You turn to leave, squeaking when you’re met with a solid body coming out of nowhere. 

“Woah- Jimin?” The last person you expected to be up so early, you cringe as your voice raises in disbelief.

The man in question grins, eyes twinkling even in the relative darkness of pre-dawn. “Going so soon?”

“I-” You find yourself at a loss of words, feeling caught somehow, and you clear your still-aching throat. “What are you doing up?”

“Looking for you, little mouse. Or did you forget I’m next in line?” He speaks as light and melodic as a music box, but his lips are twisted in a grin as his eyes roam over you, wearing the same clothes as last night. “Has our Namjoonie finally popped his cherry?”

The way he plays with every syllable has you feeling so vulnerable, so under his control, and your gaze falters, looking instead at his odd attire. Like he’d gotten up in a hurry, he’s wearing a mix of pyjamas and clothes. His legs are tightly clad in glossy faux leather, blacker than black, and his top half is a silk pyjama top, sinful red trimmed with black, and with only a single button done up in the middle of his torso, exposing his lower stomach and the top of his chest. You suck in a breath at the expanse of skin, and what looks like the black sliver of a...tattoo? 

“Cat got your tongue?” he questions, drawing your eyes back up as he licks his top lip slowly, purposefully.

“It’s none of your business,” you reply, cursing the way your voice catches throatily, clearly affected by him. “And if you’re going to take your turn, can we at least go somewhere a little more comfortable? It’s six in the fucking morning.”

Like a switch is flipped, his face darkens, the humour gone. You swallow the lump in your throat as Jimin’s mouth sours into a scowl, but you can’t deny the heat that pools between your legs at it too. “I knew it,” he announces, voice acidic. 

“Knew what?” Your fate sealed, a streak of confidence rises within you. You’d ruffled him. And every part of you is screaming to make him react again. 

His eyes are molten power as they focus on you. “Five days and you’ve already become a spoilt brat.”

Your mouth drops open. “Fuck you! It’s your job to fuck me.”

“Why should I fuck you when you haven’t done a thing to earn it?” Jimin takes a step forward and reflexively you back up. “You’re an ungrateful cockhungry slut, little mouse. If you want me, beg for it.” He takes another step and again, you shuffle back, heart picking up.

“I shouldn’t have to beg,” you counter, though your voice isn’t as firm as before. Jimin simply raises a brow, continuing to walk you further into the kitchen until your lower back strikes the countertop. You swallow again, wishing you weren’t so easily affected. “If you don’t fuck me, I’ll just send you home.”

“You could,” he gives dismissively, lips twitching into a sneer at his following words, “but I don’t think you will. I don’t believe you’d send me home if I didn’t fuck you. Because you want to know how it feels.”

You bite your tongue, glaring up at him, at the way he’s so indifferent about it. “Fine. Then fuck me.” 

Jimin tuts reproachfully, his arms leaning forward to prop himself up on the bench behind you, caging you in. Your heart stops beating, the throb felt between your legs instead as he’s close enough to touch, his mouth close enough to kiss, not that you’d dare. “That isn’t begging,” he whispers in disapproval. 

“I don’t beg,” you insist, even as your hands clench, fighting the urge to touch him. 

Suddenly, the shadow over his face disappears, and he pushes up, creating some distance between you again. “It doesn’t matter, anyway,” he says airily, causing you to frown in confusion. “We aren’t at the begging stage yet. You know what you need first?”

You stare at him blankly, giving him a shake of your head. 

Jimin grins, and you swear you see his eyes flash. “Punishment.” 

“You can’t be serious,” you breathe, though instead of sounding offended as you intend, you just sound needy. Fuck Park Jimin and his iron grip on your arousal. 

His grin broadens like the Chesire Cat. “You’ve been very bad, little mouse. You’ve been demanding and impatient, you’ve used vulgar language and I seem to recall the night you interrupted my sleep because of how loud you were next door. I can’t let it slide,” he divulges with a solemn shake of his head, like your poor behaviour pains him, “I just can’t.”

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” you say with a disbelieving laugh. “You can’t punish me like a child.”

“And that will be another one,” Jimin says instead, perfectly calm, rich blue hair catching the light as the sun continues to rise just outside. 

“Another what?” you fire back, beginning to tire of so much talk and so little action.

“Another spank,” he deadpans. Were it anyone else, any other situation, perhaps you would’ve laughed at it. Instead, you stare wide-eyed at the stoicism on his face. “That makes it five for swearing to me in this conversation alone, four for being impatient, and five for keeping me up that second night. Should we round it up to twenty?”

You stay silent for a moment, desperately trying to process it. You shake your head slowly. “You can’t make me,” you point out.

“Of course I can’t,” Jimin gives with a chuckle, running a hand through his hair as if to demonstrate how calm he is. Your eyes are magnetised by the silver rings that glint on his fingers, unable to keep yourself from imagining how they might feel on you. “You can always use your safeword, and I’ll respect it,” he continues. “But I doubt it. Whether you like to admit it, little mouse, you want this. You think I haven’t worked out that you a little pain with your pleasure?” He stands back, just a step, but the extra distance makes you feel suddenly unanchored, and you hate it. “I’m going to give you three seconds to turn around and bend over. If you don’t, I’ll walk away and you get nothing. If you take your punishment like a good girl, then we can talk.”

You huff, pressing your lips - and thighs - together in an effort to stay strong.

“One,” Jimin begins, eyes alight with bemusement. You don’t move, just sighing in annoyance again. “Two.”

Your incisors are clamped on your tongue so tightly you can almost taste blood as you glare intensely at his mouth. He draws it out cheekily, letting you wait painstakingly as he wets his lips and finally opens his mouth, the pink of his tongue pressing against his teeth as he-

Before you can process it, you’re flipping yourself around and pressing your upper chest against the counter, eyes squeezed shut in humiliation as Jimin begins to chuckle. 

It’s far too loud for the stillness of the early morning, and you muffle a sob in your forearm - not regret, but neediness. A week he’d deprived you, and the smug fucker was right: you’d take what you could get, and love it too. Blessedly, he doesn’t seem to notice the sound, the air filled instead with his triumphant peal of laughter at seeing you presenting yourself to him just like he knew you would. 

“Oh, little mouse,” he coos. “What would the others think if they saw you like this, hm? Bent over for me in the middle of the kitchen where anyone could walk in.”

You take in an unsteady breath, feeling your pulse race with excitement as his fingertips - still cold from the morning air - slip under your waistband, as he painstakingly slides it down, revealing your ass. You let out a small whimper when the toe of his shoe catches your ankle, pushing to widen your legs apart. You bite your lip, cheeks heating, core heating even more. 

Jimin runs his palms flat over your bare ass and you hiss through your nose at how icy his rings feel. While his hands are smaller than those of other guys of the house, you feel no less under their control, shivering at the contact. “Was it twenty we agreed upon?” His tone is light, playful. He knows he’s got you, and one final burst of defiance bubbles up through your chest.

“Fuck you,” you spit. “Does that make it twenty-one?”

You’re jumping before you even feel the lacing of fire on your right cheek or hear the smack that echos in the room. You choke on a moan, unable to deny how the pain settles into a low-burning pleasure that adds to the wetness between your thighs.

From behind you, you hear Jimin sigh heavily and quickly, like he’s trying to calm himself. “I want you to count them,” he instructs, and you flinch as his hand comes down on you again, but this time his slaps are weak, light swats that warm your skin to prepare it. “Twenty starting now. Understood?”

You bite your lip, but pull yourself up a little to free your face, propping yourself up with your elbows. You feel so vulnerable like this, just your ass bared, legs spread and at his mercy, but all you can think of is feeling his hand on you again. Blearily, you nod, and a pleased hum comes from his throat, barely audible. 

Jimin makes you wait for it, holding the silence so that your ears strain, fighting the urge to glance ba-

You jerk with a shallow cry as your other cheek stings with his smack, core clenching. “One,” you announce quietly. With every moment of sunrise, the room gets lighter and lighter, and you squeeze your eyes shut at the thought of someone walking in on the two of you. Was that dread in your stomach or excitement?

He doesn’t speak, only smoothing the skin to cool it before laying another blow, waiting for you to call out a shaky “two.” He’s wearing at least three rings, and you can feel them, more unforgiving than his flesh and painfully ice cold. You wonder in the back of your mind if they’ll leave marks. You can’t help but hope they do. 

You’ve made it to eight strikes before your knees begin to shake slightly. Every lick of pain simultaneously hurts more on the raw skin of your ass, but pools as liquid pleasure between your legs faster as you grow accustomed to it. Your pussy aches for contact, and you arch your back after the ninth spank falls, presenting yourself to him even more in the hopes that he’ll be tempted, but Jimin just tuts in disapproval.

“Look at you, little mouse. Soaking after a few spanks. You love this, don’t you? No part of you can deny it anymore.” You pant and bite down hard on your lip, wanting so bad to beg for it. Still, you refuse. Jimin just hums at your attempt at stoic silence, amused more than anything. “Almost halfway. It’ll be over so soon, don’t you think? We should make the most of this.” 

You frown at his words, more so when you feel the heat of his body leave you. You crane your neck automatically, spine lifting to stand, but his voice freezes you. 

“Fucking face the front and keep position,” he seethes, “I never said you could move.”

You sink back down, widening your legs and lowering your chest so it rests on the edge of the countertop, eyes locked onto the splashback in front of you. With ears straining, you shudder at the sound of a drawer sliding smoothly open, and the various clinks and thuds that follow as he rummages. Once the drawer shuts again and Jimin returns, you can barely breathe, goosebumps breaking out on your thighs and arms. 

He pats something against you, then slowly runs it over the heated skin of your ass, the slight friction making you hiss. “Do you know what this is? Feel it.” He continues to brush it around slowly, and you wrack your mind. It’s not metal or plastic - the texture is a little too rough and it isn’t as cold as his rings were. You hiss when you feel it dip down between your thighs, too low to touch you were you need it most. The shape is a tall oval, flat on one side but concave on the other, and you let out a low moan, back arching lower as you work it out. Jimin laughs, bringing it back up to tap it teasingly on your cheek. “I think you do,” he remarks. “Shall we continue?”

You bite your lip but it can’t fully cover the needy moan that spills out. He’s really about to spank you with a wooden spoon, and you’re really dripping for it. “Ye-yes,” you gasp out, a cry ripped from your throat at the first hit. It’s far sharper on your skin than his hand, whistling through the air and landing with a resounding smack. The sting lasts longer too, almost like you can feel the exact outline of the spoon on your skin. “Fuck, ten.”

When Jimin speaks again, his voice is rich with sadistic amusement. “Do you like it, little mouse? You should see yourself. The outline of the spoon just now, the marks from my rings-” he drags a single nail down one of the aforementioned marks, and you keen, the raw pain sent straight to your core, “you mark so beautifully for me. This perky little ass of yours is so red, you know? Should we make it even redder?”

Without waiting for your answer, he lands three smacks in quick succession - right, left, right again. Your body’s instinct takes over and you pull your body forward, tucking your ass in as if to escape it, even as your core throbs with need and your nipples press stiffly against your shirt. 

Jimin won’t have it, though, and you moan in a low keen as he wraps an arm low over your hips and tugs you back down, pressing the middle of your back with the fist and clenches the spoon so that you arch beneath it, dropping down that hand to run his knuckles lightly over your abused skin. “Shh,” he hushes firmly, “we aren’t done here yet. If it’s too much for you, you know what to say.”

Your heart warms at his reminder of your safeword, but you have no intention of using it, already melting under the additional physical contact. Instead, you lean back into his grip, presenting yourself for more. 

You sense rather than see his grin, but it makes you shiver nonetheless as the amused breath escapes his nose, his cool fingers running over your flesh, thumb and pointer as the rest wrap around the stem of the wooden spoon. “Are you gonna count them then, little mouse?”

Your mouth drops open to answer, but you pause, having to really think back. “Mm, uh, twelve? Eleven?”

Jimin chuckles, returning to those light teasing pats of the wooden spoon, just to make your thighs shake. “Thirteen, actually,” he reveals in a rakish tone. “If you wanted more, you just had to ask.”

Before your brain can process a retort, the spoon comes down again, an audible thwack that jiggles the flesh of your ass with the force of it, and you keen, knees buckling for just a moment. The contrast of intense stimulation of the fiery skin on your ass and the complete neglect of your needy core is infuriating but addictive nonetheless. “Fuck, Jimin, fo-fourteen.”

You automatically suck in a breath in the sudden lull as Jimin rears his hand back, but the quiet reveals a different noise, the laughing and joking and thud-thud-thud of people coming down the stairs, and you’re choking on the air in your lungs, freezing as two familiar faces round the corner and come to a halt as they witness the scene you’re in. 

Your legs shiver but your core throbs still as Jungkook and Taehyung watch you wide-eyed, eyes dancing in unision from Jimin, to you, to your ass and the spoon in Jimin’s hand. The cheeks of your face are somehow hotter and redder than the others, but regardless you stay frozen in position, waiting for someone else to make a move.

Unsurprisingly, it’s Jimin who speaks up first, the only one of you four unbothered. “She has six hits left, boys,” he offers up, patting your hip like you’re a ride to have a go on. “Any takers?”

Taehyung steps forward first, Jungkook’s mouth still hanging low. As you watch his slender fingers wrap around the handle of the wooden spoon, you shiver, and he chuckles at your reaction. 

“You know,” he muses casually, replacing Jimin behind you as the older man steps away to lean against the bench beside you, “I think I’m starting to warm up to this whole situation, petal. Where else would I get to walk in on a sight like this? And Jimin-hyung is so generous to let us help out. Thank him, Y/n.”

A breath rushes out of your throat, one you hadn’t even realised you were holding. Humiliation rushes through you, but it’s cloudy with arousal, and your tongue is loose with it. “Thank you, Jimin.”

“Good girl,” Taehyung coos shortly, and that’s the only warning before he’s swatting you harshly with the flat back of the spoon, and you let out a strangled moan. Your ass won’t stop stinging between hits, but you obediently call out ”fifteen, sixteen, seventeen,” until you only have three to go. 

Taehyung relinquishes his turn reluctantly to Jungkook; the youngest contestant in the house eying you up strangely, almost like he can read and understand the pleasure in the welts on your ass and the tremble of your knee. Almost like he’s been where you are, or somewhere close. Judging by the apparent variety of his streams, you don’t doubt it. 

Like Jungkook’s testing the waters, his first hit is the weakest, barely making you flinch. You exhale lowly in disappointment. “Eighteen,” you say, swallowing down the drool that threatens to gather. 

Before any more land, you instead feel fingers at your hairline, brushing back strands that have covered your face. Small but strong points of pressure light up on your jaw as Jimin pulls your chin to look up at him, his eyes swirling with deep satisfaction. 

“I wanna see the look on your face,” he announces quietly. “I want our Jungkookie to make these last two hurt. Will you take it for me?”

His voice brooks no disagreement, still dripping with authority and control, but you know that he’s once more giving you an out should you wish to use your safeword, so you nod shakily, eyes fluttering. “Please.” You’ve still received no friction - or contact at all - on your pussy, and you feel yourself going crazy. The pain is addictive, licks of pleasure that seep into your veins after every spank, but you can’t handle how you drip down your own thighs, soaking your panties even as they rest hooked just above your knees. Two more hits and you’d finally get what you needed.

You haven’t seen Jimin’s face this close, and certainly not seen his eyes in such intense detail before, and instead of anticipating the next hit you find yourself blinking up at him dazedly. His hair, the deep glossy navy that you’d never seen on somebody before, is swooped gracefully over his brow, which is still a natural black, and below it his eyes are molten with lust and satisfaction, watching your face intently. His hands are hot on your face, the rings cool points of unforgiving contact, and you can’t help but wonder if the plush pillows of his lips are warm like his hands or cool like his rings. They’d feel softer against yo-

“Fu-fuck!” you cry, eyes squeezing shut as two sharp hits strike you not on the already-red skin of your ass, but the tops of your thighs instead, just below the swell of flesh. It’s more painful than you’d expect, but you’re so turned on that your mind just screams better and more. Caught up in it, you belatedly gasp out a “nineteen, twen’y,” and feel yourself sink against the countertop, held up by Jimin’s hands on your face and jaw.

“Little mouse,” his voice calls out, and your brows knit together as you struggle to decipher his tone. “Little mouse.”

You force your eyes open, breathing heavily through your mouth as everything except the burn below and Jimin above fade away. “Jimin,” you whisper, lips barely moving.

His give a twitch, pleased. It warms your heart to see the flicker of approval. “What do you say, hm?”

You don’t even think, but your body knows the answer. “Thank you, Jimin.”

“I’m not the only one,” he remarks, though a pleased grin is evident on his face and in his voice. 

Truthfully, you’d almost forgotten the others, but as you thank them, eyes still locked on Jimin, you feel your toes curl at the realisation that you’re surrounded by three extremely attractive men. Men that are all here to-

The dopey smile of anticipation is struck from your face when Jimin abruptly lets go of you, pushing off the countertop. You stumble, catching your legs under you and fumbling to pull up your jeans reflexively. “Where are you-?”

You jump at the dull clang of the wooden spoon being tossed in the sink, Jungkook’s hand free as Jimin discards the tool. You watch openmouthed, panties and jeans barely on as the former rest uncomfortably soaked against your core, as the eldest of the three rolls his shoulders and sighs happily. “So, boys; should we make some omellettes for breakfast? I feel like cracking a few eggs.”

Taehyung grins and Jungkook’s gaze slides to you in uncertainty but the two agree, casually retrieving ingredients and utensils like you aren’t sitting there with a stinging ass and your jeans unbuttoned. 

“Jimin,” you mumble dumbly, and to your surprise he acknowledges you this time, walking over to stand in front of you with a congenial smile. 

“You’re done here, Y/n,” he announces. Unabashedly, his hands slip down and begin to fully slide your panties and jeans up, fingers slipping up the zip and buttoning them closed. “You didn’t want to beg, and I’m not going to make you. You took your punishment, so why don’t you toodle along? I’m sure one of us will call for you when breakfast is ready.”

Your mouth drops open, the final lusty haze of the scene evaporating fast enough to leave you reeling. “Are you serious? You aren’t going to do anything?”

Jimin’s eyebrows lower intently, voice hushing like he’s sharing a secret, even though Taehyung and Jungkook are right behind him in earshot. “Oh, little mouse. You know exactly what to do to get what you want.”

He waits expectantly, but your eyes dart past his shoulders to the other two boys. Begging was one thing, but in front of the others? You fight a pout, hoping your face looks angry rather than put out. “You’re an asshole, and I’m voting you out.” 

His grin broadens, wolfish. “Well then,” he remarks with an unbothered lift of a brow, “I better hurry up and make these omelettes before I get sent home, now, shouldn’t I?” 

And with that, he turns his back to you and begins chatting to his friends. You stay for one more moment of shocked silence, but soon turn tail, stomping back up the stairs with the wet fabric of your panties pressing coldly against you.

---

When you peek your head in the door, Namjoon is still asleep, so you quickly duck back into your room and change into some fresh clothes and underwear before going back in, content to chill on his armchair until he wakes. 

You’d told him you would stay, and the way the fabric of your leggings rubs against your sore ass when you sit only reminds you of the fact that you’d been gone longer than anticipated already. He looks peaceful, though, clearly quite content with the pillow you’d left him with. Namjoon’s mouth is parted slightly, slack and half-pressed into his own pillow. He clutches yours with both arms, snuffling or grunting in his sleep every few moments. 

You’re happy with just scrolling through your phone aimlessly for the half hour or so it takes before he wakes, back arching and neck cracking as he stretches. A beam broadens on your face at the dazed slow blink and wide yawn that he emits. “Sleep well?” you ask softly, not wanting to startle him.

He pats the pillow and mattress beside him in confusion, sitting up to stare at you with a squint. “You stayed?”

“I said I would,” you dismiss, a single thread of guilt wrapping around your heart at the memory of where you’d just came from. “I woke up a bit early and needed a drink. Sore throat.”

Namjoon’s eyes widen dramatically, the concern on his face ringed by a mess of tanged purple hair. “I’m so sorry! I should’ve asked…”

“You’re fine, Namjoonie,” you murmur. “I was actually wondering if you’d want to-”

You break off to the sound of what is undoubtably Jungkook belting out his lungs from downstairs, announcing breakfast is ready. Namjoon lights up, kicking the blankets off in a rush to get out of bed. “I’m starving,” he chimes, getting dressed without a shred of the self-consciousness you’d witnessed the night before. Hunger has seemingly stolen all his brainpower, and you follow his eager slipstream as he rushes down the stairs noisily, thumping into the kitchen. 

Both your heart and your core throb in disappointment, your opportunity for morning sex lost by the offer of a hot meal. Your mood sours even further when you come face-to-face with the three youngest serving up omelettes, Jimin smiling brilliantly, still dressed in a barely-buttoned silk pyjama shirt and some black glossy pants.

He barely spares you a glance, even as he sits almost directly across from you. You take a seat between Namjoon and Jin, Taehyung, Jungkook and Jimin on the other side and the heads of the table kept by Hoseok and Yoongi. 

You have to admit that the wafting smells of cooked egg, cheese and various spices have your stomach grumbling, so you vow to ignore the unsatisfied heat between your legs and the smug man across from you and tuck in, your knife cutting through the omelette like butter. It’s delicious, and clearly everyone at the table shares the same sentiment, moans of surprised enjoyment filling the air. 

“I’m impressed, Jimin,” Yoongi admits, “the first time I’ve even seen you awake for breakfast and you make us this. It’s fantastic.”

His voice is melodic, teasing at your eyes even as you avoid looking at him. “Thanks, Yoongi-hyung,” Jimin replies warmly, “I was actually taught the recipe from one of my good friends who works as a chef in France.”

Hoseok isn’t impressed, and the way he scrunches his face up in annoyance makes you suppress a grin. “Let me guess, Remy the rat? If we dig around in that hair of yours will we find him tugging you around?”

Jimin ignores him coolly, knife twirling deftly around his fingers. “I haven’t seen Victor in several years, but his cooking lessons have always stuck with me. Dis-moi ce que tu manges, je te dirai qui tu es.”

“You are what you eat,” Namjoon muses, shoveling a wobbling stack of egg into his mouth. 

Your eyebrows lift, turning to him with shock. “You speak French?”

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Jimin straighten in interest at the man directly across from him, but Namjoon doesn’t seem to notice, cheeks bulging as he hurriedly tries to finish his mouthful. “Took it as an elective in university,” he explains once he’s done, “never actually been to France, though.” He turns to Jimin finally, eyes shining with the spark of curiosity that always seemed to smoulder there. “What’s it like?”

“C’est incroyable,” Jimin enunciates, the French dripping off his tongue like sparkling water. “Tu devrais y aller un jour. Mon ami a un appartement à Paris avec une chambre d’amis dans laquelle je séjourne des fois.”

Namjoon gasps, and you glance around the table, everyone bar the two of them looking totally confused. “Avec vue sur la Tour Eiffel?” The only indication it’s a question is the way his pitch rises, but the rest is incomprehensible to you, so you just return to your omelette, content to watch the conversation play out like a foreign movie without subtitles. Body language and tone being your only clues.

“Bien sûr,” Jimin replies easily, his head tipping to the side, eyes burning as he stares at the older man, “mais on pourrait peut-être parler de choses plus excitantes que cela? As-tu apprécié la compagnie de Y/N dans ton lit hier soir?”

You straighten up as you hear your name, glaring at Jimin in suspicion. You’d never regretted picking Spanish in high school instead of French more. Namjoon, interestingly, seems equally ruffled by Jimin’s comments. “That’s really none of your busi-”

“Tu vas me parler en Français, Namjoon, ou je vais commencer à te poser des questions en Anglais. Qu’est-ce que t’en dit?  The choice is yours.” Jimin’s voice turns sharp, spitting out the syllables like jabs. The choice? In unison, everyone at the table turns to Namjoon in question as the academic flushes. 

“Fine,” he says shortly in English, before switching back to French. “On n’est pas vraiment... allés jusqu’au bout. J’allais lui proposer ce matin, mais tu nous a appelés pour le déjeuner. .”

Jimin’s mouth curls slowly, deviously, making Namjoon swallow. You feel your own cheeks heat at the thought that they were very likely speaking about you. “Is that so?” Jimin asks in English, head tipping slowly. He takes a single bite of his breakfast, making Namjoon shift awkwardly in his seat at the wait. “Well; I do apologise for interrupting.” You look up between the two of them. Was he referring to him spanking you that morning? Or him calling you down just when you were going to make a move? Jimin isn’t done, sliding down in his seat just slightly, so he’s leaning back. “Laisse-moi me faire pardonner.”

Namjoon’s brows knit and his mouth opens to reply, but suddenly he goes ramrod stiff, eyes flying wide open. “Wh-what are you-?” His chest heaves once, his throat bobbing as he swallows down the rest of his sentence. 

You frown, glancing down to see the shiny tip of Jimin’s shoe pressed firmly against Namjoon’s crotch, shifting back and forth. You look away, hoping to avoid attracting more attention to Namjoon’s predicament, but you can’t deny the hot rush of heat between your own thighs at the thought of Jimin getting Namjoon off at the breakfast table with just the sole of his shoe. You finish off the last of your omelette bitterly, hating the way that your mind wishes you were in Namjoon’s seat right now. 

Like nothing’s happening, Jimin continues to converse with his elder, the others at the table seemingly none the wiser. “Ce n’est peut-être pas une une chatte bien chaude et humide, mais tu es un bon garçon, n’est-ce pas? Tu vas prendre ce que je te donne, non?” 

“Jimin,” Namjoon croaks out, voice surprisingly steady even as it’s low with arousal, “i-is there any more batter left? I’d love another omelette.”

Jungkook pipes up, finally hearing enough English to be able to contribute. “There’s not much left, but I was actually thinking I kinda feel like some hash browns and bacon, so we could go for round two if anyone else is up for it?”

Yoongi and Jin, like they’ve been awakened with the promise of more food, drag their chairs back simultaneously to stand. “I don’t trust you with frying bacon, Jungkook,” Jin answers from beside you with a small grin, “let hyungs help.”

Half the table files away, Hoseok also joining those in the kitchen, probably because he’s hoping for some taste-testing, and you’re left with Taehyung being the only unaware party, on his phone as he mindlessly sips away at a glass of juice. 

“Regarde-moi ça,” Jimin announces with melodic glee. “il y a moins de regards sur toi maintenant. Les autres sont dans la cuisine, Taehyung ne nous prête pas attention, et Y/N sait déjà ce qui est entrain de se passer; regarde-la.”

You glance up at your name but Taehyung doesn’t even react, mouth slightly open as he focuses on the video he’s watching silently, pinky finger tapping at the condensation on the glass absentmindedly. 

Namjoon turns to face you, before glancing down at the shoe which rocks faster and broader between his legs, his cock tented and leaking a small wet patch in his trousers. He knows you know. “I-I’m sorry, I don’t-”

Jimin overtakes deftly, making Namjoon hunch over the table as the jerking of his shoe against Namjoon’s clothed cock speed up. Even as Jimin’s eyes are on you, he addresses the older man in lush French. “Est-ce que tu vas venir comme ça, hm? Crois-tu pouvoir rester silencieux?”

Your skin feels like it’s on fire, the heat stemming from between your legs as you wish you could’ve felt some contact from Jimin instead. Even just the sole of his shoe would be better than nothing, but it seems that Namjoon doesn’t share the sentiment, as his hand shoves at Jimin’s foot. “Rouge,” he gasps out lowly, and Jimin recoils like he’s been shot. 

Sitting upright, feet to himself again, Jimin’s eyes widen at the word. Even with the little to no French knowledge you have, you can guess the meaning. Red. Namjoon used the safeword. “I’m so sorry,” Jimin croaks, and you’re startled at the vulnerability and genuine apology in his voice, “are you not-?”

“Juste parce que je suis techniquement vièrge, ça ne fait pas de moi un soumis,” Namjoon explains with a rueful smile. You wish he would’ve spoke in English, but his light tone at least reassures you that he isn’t mad or hurt or upset. He mostly just seems a little embarrassed and overwhelmed. 

“Can we stop speaking in baguette?” Taehyung pipes up miserably, putting his phone away. “Oui, oui. Mercy. Oh reservoir. Anything more complex than that and you’ve got me lost.”

Namjoon frowns, bewildered. “Do you mean merci and au revoir?” 

“Do I?” Taehyung questions rhetorically, eyes dazed. Namjoon just shrugs hopelessly, but that seems enough for the black-haired boy. He cheers up a bit and, glancing at Namjoon’s hunched figure, lets out a short sigh. “You look tense, hyung. Do you need some help relaxing?”

Jimin bites his lip with guilt, and you hate the way you’re drawn to that pillow of flesh, so pink against the white of his teeth. What you wouldn’t give to lean over there and see what it felt like to kiss him. 

Namjoon, however, seems less concerned with Jimin. You get the idea that perhaps he’s not one to have a short temper or hold grudges. “It’s okay, I think I might have a quick shower upstairs before the second lot of breakfast is finished.” Displaying his characteristic shyness, Namjoon makes an awkward yet completely unsuccessful attempt to leave the room without revealing his tented crotch. 

Taehyung’s eyes follow it out until Namjoon’s out of sight, his mouth hung open. After a moment’s thought, brows knitted tightly together, Taehyung turns back to the two of you at the table. “Do you think he’s turned on by food or something? He did seem pre-tty eager to chow down that omelette. I should go ask him.”

“Jesus Christ.” Jimin sinks his face into his hands as Taehyung scrambles after Namjoon, and you honestly don’t blame him.

--

You manage to make it to late afternoon before you encounter Jimin again. After the meal, he speaks quietly to Jin and the two disappear into the private rec room. For you as well, the day is spent inside, Jungkook asking for your assistance in spotting him at the indoor gym, mostly so he can explain to you and Hoseok the extremely elaborate plot of his latest anime show while he lifts weights. You and Hoseok, completely lost, ended up spending hours there trying to understand all the character arcs and plot twists and backstories, eventually moving up to Jungkook’s room so he could show you the first few episodes. By the time he let you go, you made your way downstairs with a bag of laundry, having almost spent a full week in the villa.

Unlike most of the house, the laundry feels very basic and surburban: a front-loader, a dryer and a sink with some cabinets are really the only pieces of furniture, so you perch on the dryer as you wash, and the washer as you dry your load of clothes. 

Letting the regular thump of the drying machine lull you into a sleepy daze, you’re too zoned out on your phone to notice someone approaching until fingers wrap around your phone, pushing it down away from your face. 

Jimin’s still hasn’t changed out of his red pyjama shirt, and as you sit up ramrod straight and focus onto him, you admire the way the lapels lay open to expose his collarbones. “Fancy seeing you here,” he announces with a grin, eyes raking over you as you sit atop the washing machine. 

“What a coincidence,” you deadpan, crossing your arms. “I know what you’re doing.”

“And what would that be, little mouse?”

You fight the urge to press your legs together at the petname, Jimin’s eyes intelligent and self-satisfied as they watch you. “Coming here to seduce me.”

Jimin laughs, and your cheeks flush hot at the sound, his head tipping back to expose a graceful neck. “Oh, Y/n, don’t think so highly of yourself. I’m just here to do my laundry.” 

Dubious, you keep your legs dangling over the side and your arms crossed as you look down. True enough, a basket of washing rests and his feet, and you wait bitterly as he brushes your legs wider so that he can turn on the machine, selecting the right settings and pouring in a scoop of detergent. You keep a stoic silence, biting down on your tongue at his actions, but he doesn’t seem to care about your eyes on him.

In fact, he appears to openly thrive on it, sinking into a crouch in front of the machine and blinking up at you innocently, his face in front of your aching crotch. Refusing to give in, you press your lips together while he opens the door and deposits his clothes, socks, underwear, everything he’s been wearing the past few days. Once he’s done, you feel yourself relax a bit, but then he lets out a thoughtful hum.

“I suppose I should wash these too,” he muses, fingering at the bottom edge of his shirt, and your mouth goes dry. That fucker. He doesn’t even look at you as he undresses, but the smirk on his lips speaks volumes.

Your hips long to writhe, but you force yourself still as he unbuttons his shirt, opening it up and chucking it in casually, running a hand over his now-naked chest, quite literally rubbing it in. The most skin you’ve seen on him yet, you allow yourself to drink in the sight. He’s more muscular than you’d expect, though it’s all lean muscle, graceful yet speaking to a corded strength. 

Even though you know it’s coming, there’s nothing that can prepare you for the obscene sight of him pulling down the zipper of his black patent leather pants, revealing equally black boxers. He’s not hard, not even the slightest hint of a chub, and the thought infuriates you that he could make you so needy without even getting aroused himself, like it was the easiest thing in the world. 

As he lowers his pants down, his thighs are revealed in all their glory, the thickest part of him. They flex as he lifts each leg, tugging off the pants fully and tossing them in. Though you hadn’t noticed before, now is the first time you’ve seen him without his shoes on, and you marvel at the fact that he loses none of his power like this, that it really comes from within, from his piercing gaze, knowing smile and confident posture. Chucking them in the washing machine too, he pauses for a moment, lip tugged up in a smirk, before his ringed fingers find the elastic waistband of his boxers.

Startled, a breathy, “Jimin,” falls from your lips unbidden, barely audible.

“Hm?” Jimin has no regard for modesty as he bares himself fully, cock twitching as you stare, wide-eyed. “What’s the problem, little mouse? This is a shared facility.” He chucks the slip of light fabric amongst the rest of his clothes and shuts the lid, pressing start. A gasp escapes you as the machine kicks into gear, already beginning to shudder and rock under you, sending vibrations to your needy core. 

As you stare, Jimin stands in front of you, resting a hand on the edge of the machine, right between your splayed legs. His dick is slowly plumping up, the man completely unbothered as he lowers his free hand to press at the skin around it, sighing. 

Your fingers clench into fists as your arms remain crossed, pussy thriving and dripping with the pleasure after so long, but cursing that his hand is so close yet so far to your clothed cunt. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” you spit, leaning back and tipping your head up to stare stubbornly at the ceiling. The image of him, his naked body is still seared onto your eyelids and you let out a huff. “You have no shame.”

“Shame never seemed like a particularly useful quality to have.”

“I’m not giving you what you want,” you insist, voice trembling slightly - though you blame the steady jarring of the washing machine that runs from your core all the way up to your teeth. 

“Then I could say the same to you,” you hear Jimin reply easily, before letting out a suspiciously low groan. 

Your head shoots down and you gawk at the way he grasps himself, fully hard now, and runs the crook of his pointer finger over his weeping head. His cock is gorgeous, the hair above trimmed neatly and the tip arcing towards the ceiling, towards your shocked stare as he smears the glistening precum around his head, hissing at the coolness of his rings on the heated skin. 

“What the fuck are you doing?” you utter in complete bewilderment. “This isn’t washing your laundry!”

Jimin hums, head tipped back and eyes slipping shut in indulgence. “I can leave to jerk off alone if that makes you more comfortable?”

You fall silent, eyes locked onto his languid strokes. That isn’t what you want at all, and he knows it. “Jimin,” you murmur lowly, captivated by the slow drags of his hand on his cock, rings glinting wetly. He makes a noise of response, almost lost in the mechanical whirring and thudding of the washing machine that stirs in your loins. Your voice is barely louder than his. “Jimin, why are you making this so difficult?”

His head tips back down, lips parted and eyes lidded. “Oh, little mouse,” he sighs, “do you wish you could touch? Do you wish I was inside you?”

You glance again at his hand, resting mere centimetres away from your core. “You know I do,” you admit in a small voice.

“Then beg,” he replies simply, hand slowly picking up speed on his dick. “The only thing that’s keeping you horny and unsatisfied is yourself. You could’ve cum three times already if you knew what was good for you.”

You sigh, licking your lips needily. A light ding echoes in the room; your washing has finished in the dryer. You ignore it. “Please, Jimin.”

Jimin’s eyes open fully, locking on you with a smirk. “Closer,” he answers, teeth exposed as he grins just slightly. Still, though, he continues to stroke himself, even going so far as to take a half step forward to rest the underside of his cock against the washing machine, groaning at the vibrations. 

You huff when you realise he isn’t going to speak further. “You do realise I could just go get myself off, right? You don’t have all the power here.”

You know you’ve said the wrong thing when his cheeks lift, lips spread wide in a teasing sneer. “We both know that’s not quite true. Perhaps I don’t have all the power, but a little birdie told me that you’re no longer allowed to put your hand in your own pants. I don’t suppose that rings a bell?”

He knows about Hoseok’s deal. Perhaps they all do. In an effort to wipe the smug look off his face, you scoff, spreading your legs wider in a show of relaxation. “Well then, I guess I might as well go upstairs and ask Hoseok to fuck me. I bet he’d do a better job than-”

Like lightening, his hand leaves his own cock and lashes out, fisting your shirt in his hands and tugging you forward, hard enough that you have to quickly uncross your arms and grab onto him to stop your foreheads from knocking together. You gasp at the fiery look on his face, his voice a sharp growl. “If you think he can fuck you half as good as I can, you’re dreaming.”

“Wha-?” you make out, so close that your breath ruffles the wisp of hair that swoops over his brow.

Just as quick as he grabbed you, Jimin lets go, stepping away. “Your laundry is ready,” he announces lowly. “You’ll be waiting outside my bedroom door in two hour’s time or you won’t get anything at all. Clear?” 

Startled, you nod, jumping down off the mid-cycle washing machine, your legs feeling wobbly with the sudden withdrawal of vibrations. Grabbing your washing out of the dryer, you rush out the room with one last glance at him before the door slams and locks behind you. All is silent in the hallway as you ascend the stairs, but internally you scream with excitement. 

--

Two hours drags and stretches and then snaps, everything too slow and then too fast until you’re knocking on Jimin’s door, stomach swirling sickly with anticipation. 

He takes his sweet time answering, heightening your heart rate, but by the time he does it takes your breath away. He’s in a different pair of black pants, jeans that are skinny enough to make his legs seem a million miles long. His chest is fully covered this time, but it’s a transparent white mesh singlet, a white pressed blouse with gold buttons and cufflinks unbuttoned at the top to expose it. His lips, plush as ever, are covered in a sheer gloss that glints in the light and his eyes are intense in the frame of thick lashes and a hint of shadow on the lids, warm and smokey. As usual, he’s laden with jewellery, his classic silver rings paired with a pair of thin dangling chains from his lobes that sway hypnotically when he tilts his head in greeting.

You, too, had dressed for the occasion, seeking out your prettiest pair of lingerie - a black lace set with embroidered vines and buds around the hems and cups. The only thing you’re wearing on top is a black silk robe tied lazily around your waist. Thanking your lucky stars nobody had wandered into the upstairs hallway while you were waiting, you step inside, the thick carpet under your bare feet muffling your steps.

Jimin is back in shoes, and you bite your lip when you recognise them as the ones he’d worn at breakfast just that morning. It feels like days ago, your heightened arousal the whole day stretching time into an eternity. 

“Kneel,” he instructs shortly, pointing at the carpet in front of him. For a moment you hesitate, but you'd gotten so far and it would be foolish to test your luck and risk getting thrown out with nothing yet again. Besides, part of you wants to see what he'll do when you're actually good for him. You kneel.

His room is perhaps one of the largest excluding yours. His bathroom door is shut, but even just the bedroom has room for a queen bed, two nightstands, a dresser and a chest at the foot of the bed which you're facing. You wonder idly if he'd paid the staff off for the biggest room, but before you can ponder much more he steps in front of you, his crotch right at your eye-level. You glance up him, sucking in a breath at how perfect he looks glancing down at you.

You lick your lips in anticipation, and it draws his attention. "This pretty little mouth of yours," he muses, reaching out to run his fingers over your lips, tugging down the flesh to watch it bounce back. Your chest puffs in pride, mouth practically watering at the thought of sucking him off. You part your lips when he presses on the seam, and his first two fingers delve into your mouth, slowly thrusting so that the pads run along your tongue, making you drool around his digits. You widen your jaw obediently, eyes pleading. But his face changes, then, a frown clouding his features. "More trouble than it's worth," he decides stiffly, and suddenly your mouth is empty, Jimin wiping your saliva off on your cheek before he turns his back to you, opening the chest.

Your mouth stays slack and open, but for a different reason. From what you can see, the wooden box is filled with toys, slips of fabric and leather, metal chains, everything. Suddenly, something catches your attention. At the bottom right corner, the initial PJM have been gracefully engraved, painted in with a glossy black ink. This is his, you realise, what he uses for his shoots. You feel your panties dampening between your legs as he rifles around.

When he turns back around, you recoil slightly, recognising the buckled contraption he comes up with. A ball gag. He smiles wickedly at your reaction, standing over you and running his hand through your hair, combing it back from your face. "This is a good thing, little mouse," he explains, tapping your lips twice to indicate to widen your jaw. You obey in a daze, feeling the sphere of unforgiving black plastic fill the front half of your mouth, your teeth keeping it in place. "Now you won't be tempted to run your mouth. Isn't that thoughtful of me?" You glare up at him as the straps wrap around your skull, his deft fingers tightening the buckle just enough so you can't spit the ball out. Your breath comes through your nose now, huffing at him.

He chuckles, crouching in front of you. It's overwhelming, suddenly having his face so close again. The perfect swells of his cheekbones, the sculpted brows and intelligent eyes so intensely locked onto yours. "You can't speak now, little mouse. So your safeword is going to be non-verbal. Click your fingers once for yellow, and over and over as much as you can for red. Okay? Click now so I know you can do it."

You click your fingers, feeling your chest ease slightly with the reinforcement of your safety net. The moment you're done, however, that warm concern vanishes, and he straightens up, turning away from you yet again.

"You're lucky," his voice announces, leaning over to dig in his box of tricks, "normally I'm not so generous. Normally I wouldn't let you cum until you'd well and truly earned it. But those cries of yours on the Monday night..." He trails off, spinning back on his feet to face you, a pair of leather cuffs in his hand, unconnected with heavy duty silver loops dangling from them. His eyes pierce you with a hint of vulnerability that you don't think he even realises he's showing. "You drive me crazy, Y/n. I want to hear you cum over and over and over again for me."

No matter how much your chest rises and falls, you feel breathless, eyes wide. Unable to verbally respond - though you don't even know what you'd say - you just give him a pleading gaze, hips rocking against the bottoms of your feet in search of friction.

He lets out a breath, stepping forward. "Take off your robe," he instructs with a rough voice. Your fingers fumble with the slack knot, hurriedly shedding it and tossing it away, leaving yourself in just the lingerie. "Fuck," he says with a breathy chuckle, "you're gonna be the death of me, little mouse. Wrists."

You clench your teeth around the ball gag in a keen at his words, lifting your arms up to reach him.

One at a time, he fits on the leather cuffs. They're relatively wide, though not too thick, and once he does up the buckle on each one you feel your eyes flutter. Something you'd never felt before but it's divine, the way they wrap so snugly around your wrists, not only a physical anchor, but a reminder that you're his, letting out a low moan when he slips a finger in one of the silver loops, tugging to ensure the fit.

Jimin's lip twitches at your reaction, and instead of telling you to stand, he uses the hoops, pulling your wrists up by the cuffs until you stand to ease the pressure, stumbling slightly as you get off your knees without your hands to assist. He leads you to the head of the bed, where you see the two chains that wrap around the bars of the headboard.

"On," he instructs, letting go so you can clamber up, sitting as you await further instruction. "On your back, darling," he coos, pressing at your shoulder so your head rests back onto the pillow. Automatically, you lift your arms, pulling a smile from his lips as he loops the chains through the silver hoops of your cuffs, spreading your arms wide apart, knuckles brushing against the wood of the headboard.

"Don't go anywhere," he remarks teasingly before leaving you, retrieving a few things from the chest. You tug slightly at one of your cuffs, testing it, and muffle a groan at the feeling of being trapped, tied down and at his mercy.

When he returns, his hands are full, and he tosses the fruits of his labour on the bed beside your torso, getting up on the bed to sit between your legs. You gasp when he tugs your ankles firmly, making you slip down so that your arms are straight, less room to struggle. This way, too, you can barely crane your head up, chest blocking your few of the toys he's brought over.

"Now," he says with a patient sigh, fingering the hem of your panties, "let's get rid of these, mm?" You lift your hips obediently when he goes to slip them down, curling your toes at the sudden cool air on your pussy. "Fuck, look at you," he gushes lowly, his fingers running up and down your slit so light you can barely feel them, making you whimper. "So fucking wet, little mouse. I haven't even touched you."

You lift your head to moan at him, trying to get out your plea, though your words are unrecognisable through the ball gag.

He pouts teasingly, rubbing the flat of his palm over you, slicking up his hand. "Oh, poor baby. The mean old Jiminie kept teasing her, did he? Baby just wants to cum?"

You groan, eyes scrunching shut as you nod your head. Even the simple touch of his hand between your legs is so good you could cry.

You tremble when you feel two fingers slip inside your wetness, a tight fit but one that lets him in so smoothly with how much you're soaked for him. He finds your g-spot with an almost supernatural ease, rubbing at it with the pads of his two fingers, curling inside you. You let out a strangled groan which makes him chuckle.

"I'm being generous now, aren't I? Say thank you, Y/n."

You sob. He knows full well you can't speak, but you obey nonetheless, letting out an unintelligible garble of your thanks.

"Good girl," he coos, and your legs fall apart wider in bliss as he begins an indulgent pace, the cool bands of his rings when they plunge inside you addictive. The second his thumb lifts up and begins rubbing at your clit, you're already on the edge from being deprived so long, and you cum almost immediately, shuddering around his fingers at the deep but powerful satisfaction.

You come down from your high relatively quickly, but he's already slipped his hand out, and you glance down in confusion, only to choke on a moan when you see him, tongue poking out slightly in focus as he uses your own slick to lube up a dildo, a powder pink silicone one that's roughly the shape of a cock, but far smoother, getting wider at the bottom for a place to hold it.

Once he's done, almost without acknowledging you, he grips your knee, making it bend and your leg lift higher up the bed, spreading you wider open for him, the other one still flat on the mattress, splayed wide.

"That was your warm-up, little mouse, I hope you enjoyed it," Jimin remarks with a grin, and you breathe heavy around the gag, back arching as he presses the head of the dildo into you.

It's far wider than his two fingers, and the stretch dumbs you, making your mind slow to a halt to appreciate every inch that fills you, dragging against your sensitised g-spot. Jimin's knuckles bump your clit when he bottoms out, and you shiver, the dildo so deep inside you.

"Let's get started, shall we?" he declares rhetorically with a wolfish grin, and once again your eyes squeeze shut when he begins a bruising pace, every strike spearing you open and making your eyes water. Your spine hitches as you writhe beneath him, but his grip on your bent leg is too strong, and no matter how hard you clench he drives the dildo so fully inside you that your mouth is slack, wide enough that your teeth don't even clamp around the ball on your tongue. With an open mouth, more sound comes through, and you hear the room filling with the wet sound of him fucking you with the dildo, but also your own moans and hiccuped screams.

He fucks you to the edge faster than you can comprehend. There's so much pleasure on every stroke, and he's using so much speed that it feels like you can't take it, like you might explode, but still he pins you down, letting you yank at the cuffs that bind you as you're forced to cum violently around it, thigh muscles clenching as you try to clamp your legs around the intrusion.

"Fuck, that's it, don't stop cumming," you hear him growl, and you sob with pleasure as your orgasm morphs quickly into oversensitivity, but Jimin never lets up for a second.

Your eyes water, tears slipping down over your temples as he continues to fuck you, and suddenly you no longer feel his hand on your leg, it flopping down weakly as fingers tap over your hand.

"Don't forget the signal," he instructs as you sob and writhe, "I'm not fucking stopping without it."

It takes you a moment to process that he's asking about the safeword, but as overwhelmed as you are, you don't want him to stop. "Hngingn," you cry, his name coming out jumbled through the ball gag, and your legs automatically lock around his hand, seeking to stop the roughly thrusting dildo, but his spare hand just rips your legs away, one of his jean-clad knees pinning down your shin and your screams reach a new pitch when you feel fingers strumming at your clit, the pleasure like a million needles, making your hands fist.

After an eternity of going crazy with overstimulation, you pass a bend. The pain turns back into pleasure, and you settle, going quiet and shifting slightly to seek it out, eyes rolling at the rhythmic rocking of your hips as he fucks you with the dildo.

"That's it," Jimin guides, breathless with exertion, "I want you to cum again, little mouse. Clench tight for me."

You do as he says, eyes so blurry you can't even see anything but the patch of blue in your vision, his head bobbing slightly as he speaks.

Without thinking, you follow his instructions, and like clockwork a third orgasm rips through you, taking you by surprise as the extra pressure of the dildo on your g-spot plunges you over the edge. You hadn't even realised you were close, but clearly Jimin had, and you tremble beneath him, letting the waves of pleasure flood to every corner and crevice of your body, your fists tightening and your toes curling. You weep openly at how good it feels, whimpering when his fingers on your clit stop and the dildo slows, slipping out of you one last time with a slick noise.

You're sweating, twitching, trembling, but still you manage to blink away your tears and focus on him blearily as you feel him removing the ball gag from around your head, fingers gentle as they massage your jaw slightly, letting you close it and lick your lips, feeling the ache.

"Did so well," he praises, and you pant happily, a lazy smile stretching out on your face as your tears begin to dry. The sound of a zip makes you frown, so you glance down to see Jimin already fisting his own cock, just as red and needy as the last time you'd seen it. You whimper as he shuffles forward, lifting your legs up into the air to spread you wide for him.

Almost forgetting you can speak now, you whimper wordlessly for a few moments, before making out a weak, "Jimin," tone pleading.

"Shh," he coos, his cockhead tapping at your drenched entrance, making you shiver. "One more, little mouse."

"I can't," you sob, chest hitching as he slips into you, just bigger than the dildo. You let out a reedy cry at how he strikes you're abused g-spot, and his fingers massage the backs of your thighs soothingly.

"You can," Jimin insists, fucking into you slowly, making you hiss every time, "just one more for me. You have your word."

You sob at the overstimulating madness as his pace picks up, driving so intensely inside of you, but you don't use the safeword. There's a kind of euphoria bliss to being stretched to your limits, pushed so far, and you trust him to take care of you, want to do a good job for him.

So you shake your head, moans blending into cries blending into whimpers. "Fuh-fuck," you gasp as once more sharp stimulation turns warm again, and you near a fourth orgasm. You shiver under Jimin, his thrusts so deft and powerful, jerking your body in rhythm. "I ca- I can't cum again," you admit shakily, "'s too much, Jimin, I can't take it!"

Jimin grunts with the force of his thrusts, but his hands are gentle as they keep your legs spread. "You're almost there, little mouse, you're doing so well."

Your back arches violently when he drops one of your legs to rub at your clit, fresh tears streaming into your hairline. "Fuck, oh god, I'm gonna- fuck!"

You stream as your final orgasm takes you like a train, and a feeling you've never experienced rushes through you as you squirt, thighs clamping iron tight around his hips as he curses at the sight and spills into your trembling body.

Even in the throes of his own orgasm, you feel Jimin's hands pass up and begin releasing you from the headboard, your arms falling limply as he cups your face, barely even rocking into you as every slight movement plunges you into oversensitivity.

You gasp, trying to catch your breath with closed eyes as this thumbs brush away your tears, his cum hot inside you.

"God, Y/n, you were amazing, did so well for me," he confesses lowly in your ear, and you let out a whimper as he presses a single kiss to your cheek, the most tender he's been with you so far.

"Did well," you repeat mindlessly, "Jiminnie."

"You did," he promises, and you hiss as he pulls himself out of you carefully, the feeling of his seed mixed with your own cum flooding out down onto the sheets. "God, look at you," Jimin muses under his breath, surely not meant for you to hear.

Barely conscious, your eyes flutter, and the last thing you remember seeing is him stripping off his expensive white cotton blouse, cleaning you up with it so gently that you barely feel the sting on your clit.

FAN FAVOURITE

On the sixth Day of every Week in the game, the Audience Fan Favourite vote is released for 48 hours following the post of the fic. Please note, this is NOT the elimination vote, which is taken on the seventh Day of each Week.

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Okay real talk doing 5 ppl per comment takes fucking AGES so imma just try 45 since last time 50 didn’t work.

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[theoreticslut]

The Truth that you Deny // Part 4

pairing: fred weasley x reader x george weasley

part 1 / part 2 / part 3 

word count: 2,394

warnings: none, fluff

A/N: Okay, so this is the second to last part of this story and I’m not sure if I’m ready. I know people are still reading it, but are you all still enjoying it? I know it might seem kinda drawn out, but I couldn’t help myself. I like the way its turned out, but i mean I’m posting it so hopefully others can enjoy it too. It just makes me really nervous. Either way, the next part is the last part that I’ve written. I might potentially be willing to do another bit of a drabble continuing on with it if people are interested, but you have to let me know.Thank you to everyone who has been reading it, liking it, commenting, and even reblogging! It means so much to me!!  Anyways, here is part 4! I hope you like it! Let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist as well! I’d like to start a general one for any writing I post myself, so let me know if you’d like to be added to that as well. thank you Xx

Taglist: @justmesadgirl @xuckduck @yikesyikesyikes95 @filipi-yes @aestheticwh0r3 @siredkai @matsuno-nadeshiko @msmarklee1213

“Did you still need help, Mrs. Weasley? I got talking to Ginny.” You say when you finally make your way back downstairs.

“No worries, dear. If you don’t mind, I could use the help.” She smiles at you.

“Of course. Where do you want me to begin?”

As she explains what she wants to make and shows you the recipe, you find yourself happy to be back here. As you had told George, this is your favourite place aside from hogwarts.

You were so amazed the first time you were here back in your second year. Even though it was a bit of a smaller house for such a large family, it was extraordinarily comfortable and welcoming. You almost immediately felt at home and cared for, which was quite the contrast from your family.

You were an only child to Wizarding parents that were rarely home, and when they were, they spent their time belittling you. You never seemed to be enough in their eyes even though you had never acted out and were always in the top of your classes.

You never could figure out why they treat you the way they do. That first year at hogwarts, you had nearly cried when you had to go back home because you would be right back to no one caring about you.

When Fred had invited you to Christmas at the burrow in second year, you were nervous, sure, but you were also thrilled to be spending the break with at least two people you knew cared for you. Then when the rest of the weasley’s accepted you...you really did cry because you had never known a family.

“You got it?” Mrs. Weasley asks, having finished explaining the recipe.

“Yeah, thank you.” You smile which she reciprocates.

You both work in a comfortable silence for a few minutes before the twins come down and start talking to you.

“Mmm, what are you guys making? It smells amazing.” George asks as they both lean against the table that your working at.

“Your mum’s working on dinner.”

“Ooh, what’re we having?” Fred asks, going to lean over his mum’s shoulder.

“You’ll see when you sit down to eat, won’t ya?” Mrs. Weasley quips, shooing her son out of her way.

“Fine,” He pouts. “What about you?”

He peers his head over your shoulder, resting his chin as he watches you work.

“I’m trying to make a pie for dessert,” you say trying to look at him while he’s still resting his chin on your shoulder.

“What kind?”

“You’ll find out later. You’re making it awfully hard to work.” You frown, wiggling your shoulder to hopefully get him to move.

“You sound just like mum.” He frowns, walking away and sitting across from you as George had.

“It’s a natural reaction to you two. You find a way to always be in the way.” You chuckle.

“It’s odd to see you in the kitchen. It doesn’t seem like something you’d do.” George says, watching as you mix things together.

“What is something I would do then?” You ask, chuckling at his statement.

“Play quidditch. Study. Work.” Fred points out.

“You two do realize that I had to do this every night before hogwarts? My parents were never home so I had to cook and clean and take care of the house.”

“And you shouldn’t have had to do that. Not that young.” Mrs. Weasley interjects. You smile a bit sadly as she looks over at you, silently affirming that she cares. Out of all the Weasley’s, her and Ginny are really the only ones who know what your life was like before hogwarts, and even then, Ginny doesn’t know nearly as much as her mum does.

“It wasn’t fair to you in the slightest, but I know you’ll make a good wife someday.” She smiles, winking at you and looking over her two sons.

“Oh, uh. I hope.” You chuckle nervously, a blush rising to your cheeks.

“Oh, I know you will. You’re smart, talented, hard-working. You’re gorgeous. You know how to handle yourself and others, not to mention you know how to keep a house running. Whoever ends up marrying you is going to be a lucky man.” Mrs. Weasley states, matter-of-factly.

You’re blushing furiously now, looking down at what you’re working on to try to hide your face. You glance up at the twins only to receive a couple shrugged shoulders.

Neither Fred or George knew what to say because they didn’t really feel like commenting on whether you’d be a good wife with their own mother, but the thought of you as their wife was nice to think about. It’d be absolutely wonderful to wake up next to you, to hold you anytime they want, to help you in the kitchen, to have you to laugh with for the rest of their lives. Even having a family with you. Now, that would be a dream.

“I’m actually surprised none of you have gotten together yet. With how close you all are, I would’ve figured that by now one of you would have asked her out if not both of you.” Their mother continues, furthering your blush but now causing them to as well.

“Mum.” They both groan, looking at you, but looking away soon after in embarrassment.

“What?” She asks, turning to look at the three of you, noticing all of your red cheeks but ignoring it.

“Why don’t you two go and find something to do while y/n and I finish up.”

“Fine.”

“We’ll be upstairs.”

You let out a breath of air and try to rid yourself of your tinted cheeks.

“Boys, they get so embarrassed when their mum talks about a girl with them.” Mrs. Weasley chuckles.

“Yeah, I guess.”

“Y/n, dear. You like them, don’t you?”

“Well, yeah. Of course. They’re my best friends and -“

“You know what I mean, y/n.” She tuts, turning to face you.

You sigh, not really wanting to talk about it, but knowing that out of anyone she would understand it the most.

“Yeah. I do. I really like them both.” You smile.

“But?” She asks, setting down the towel she had had over her shoulder to wipe her hands on.

“But I don’t want to ruin anything between us. We’re all each other’s best friends and I don’t want to make anything awkward by admitting that I like them. And that I like them both! I suppose it’s slightly better than liking only one of them if they both like me as well. The last thing I’d want to do is hurt either of them.” You explain to which Molly nods.

“I know that, dear. You care for both of them deeply.”

“I do. I really do, but it’s odd to date two people at the same time, right? I’d hate to have to choose between them, but I’m not fond of the idea of people looking at us funny if I were with both of them.”

“I’m just really confused, Mrs. Weasley. I don’t know what to do.” You sigh, looking back at her and leaning against the table.

“You’ve been thinking about this for awhile, haven’t you hun?”

You nod, sniffling slightly because you really just don’t know what to. It hurts you to think about hurting either of them.

“C’mere.” The older lady waves you towards her where she pulls you into a hug.

“It must be hard to not have a mum to talk to about this. As awful as it sounds, this truly is just the beginning of a lot of pain and tough decisions in your life. You can come to me at any time, okay? I promise you that. You’re like a daughter to me and I’d hate to see you suffer in silence. Just owl me or come visit me, whatever works for you, okay?”

“Thank you, mrs weasley. You don’t know how much that means to me.”

“Now, about your situation, you just tell them how you feel. Tell them that while your worried it might make things awkward, you had to get it off your chest. Okay?”

“Okay,” you nod. A small smile forming on your lips.

~.~

It’s been a few days since your conversation with Mrs. Weasley and it’s finally Christmas Eve so the burrow is buzzing with excitement.

You have yet to find the right moment to tell Fred and George how you feel, but you figure it can wait a while more. You’ve been able to maintain a fairly regular relationship with them, keeping your conversations playful and away from any feelings. As long as you didn’t think too much about how attractive or caring they are, you could go on pretending everything is the same.

However, as the days progress it becomes increasingly more difficult for Fred and George to pretend that everything is normal. Unbeknownst to you, they had overheard everything you said to their mother that day in the kitchen. While they were more than happy to hear you say that you liked them, they felt terrible that you had been having an internal war between your head and heart.

It was becoming impossible not to notice how adorable you were even when you weren’t doing anything. They’d caught you reading a few times without disturbing you and couldn’t help but observe all the little details of you. Like how you’d bite your lip and smile when you read something that made you happy or how you’d even try to cover your mouth when you’d get smiling a lot. Either way your eyes would show just how happy you were.

“Merry Christmas Eve, Weasley’s! Merry Christmas Eve, Harry!” You smiled as you came down for breakfast.

“Merry Christmas Eve to you too, dear.” Mrs. Weasley smiled, setting a plate of pancakes down in front of you as you took your spot in between Fred and George.

“Is there much we need to do today?” You asked after taking a sip of your coffee that George had made for you.

“Oh, no. Nothing you need to bother help with.” She smiles as she sits down herself.

“Y/n, I was wondering if you’d be willing to go to diagon alley with me? If it’s alright with you, mum? I could really use y/n’s help getting some last minute gifts.” Ginnny asks, looking from her mother to you.

“Of course I would, Ginny. Would that be okay with you, Mr and Mrs Weasley?”

“It sounds lovely. I doubt either of you get much girl time with all these boys around all the time.” Mrs Weasley smiles.

“Perfect! Thank you, mum. And thank you, y/n!”

~.~

“So what gifts did you need to get, Ginny?” You ask as you both walk diagon alley.

“Well, actually. I was hoping to find one for Harry, but I have no idea what to get him. I’d also like to get something for Hermione as well since she’ll be over tomorrow afternoon.”

“Okay. No problem, let’s start with finding something for hermione, okay? She’ll be easier to get something for.”

After a couple hours of looking around and finding a gift for hermione, as well as some extra for her family, you both decide to take a short break.

“Thank you, again, for coming with me today, y/n. I knew you’d be able to help me.” Ginny says, smiling and blushing ever so slightly.

“Of course, Gin. I love spending time with you and it’s even better when I can help.”

“Well now it’s time for me to help you, do you have any gifts for my brothers?” She asks, leaning forward and folding her hands together.

“Of course I do, Ginny. I have gifts for all of you.”

“What did you get Fred and George?”

“I have a few different things for them. You’ll have to wait and see just like them.” You smile.

“Come on, y/n. I’m trying to help you.” Ginny sighs.

“Why? Are you afraid that the gifts I got them aren’t good enough?” You joke.

“No, I’m sure what you got them is wonderful. I just know one of the gifts they got you and it’s reeeally nice.” She emphasizes.

“They did? They know I don’t need anything expensive.” You frown, now worrying what it is they got you and how much it was.

“You’ll really like it though. I promise you.” She smiles and that makes you even more nervous. What could they possibly have gotten you?

~.~

You both finally got back to the burrow late that afternoon after it had started snowing and just kept on picking up.

“Thank heavens you both got home safe. We’ve been watching it snow for the last half hour and it just kept picking up.” Molly said when you both came in the door, shaking off the excess snow.

“Looks like you both had fun.” Fred smirked, nodding towards the few bags in each of your hands.

“We did, thank you very much. I don’t get nearly enough time to hang out with your sister.” You say, setting the bags down to take off your coat and scarf.

“So what did you get?” George asks, trying to peek in the bags as he hands you a mug of cocoa his mother told him to make when she saw the car headlights down the road.

“None of your business.” You chuckle, swatting his arm to get him away from them.

“Ooh, do you have gifts in there?” Fred asks, excitedly.

“Would you both knock it off? What did you think we went out for today? Obviously it’s gifts you dummies.” You chuckle, picking up the bags so they can’t get into them.

“Aw, c’mon. We just wanna see what you got everyone.” Fred pouts, George joining him when you look over at him.

You chuckle and shake your head at the pair. They were definitely something.

“Thank you for the cocoa, George. I’ll be enjoying it upstairs as I wrap these gifts away from you two.”

They pout but can’t help but smile when you walk away shaking your head and smiling at them. They were getting more and more anxious by the minute to give you their gift that they spent days trying to figure out. They only hoped you would like it as much as they thought they would.

[btsmosphere]

Crossfire | KTH

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8

Moodboard Masterlist

~summary: The night your life blew up sent you on a collision course with the campus bad boy, Kim Taehyung. Though you were well aware of his reputation, it was his doorstep you ran to when you were bleeding with nowhere to go.

~word count: 1.5k

~gang!au, mafia!au, college!au, angst, fluff, action, strangers to lovers, friends to lovers

Warnings: violence, swearing, interrogation, torture (warnings apply to each part individually, please read them)

~a/n: okay, when I was dividing my chapters I didn’t really think about how long each part was, I just split them where it felt right. sooo I’ve ended up with this really short part, but as an apology for that I will be uploading the final part early, on Thursday instead of Sunday!!

Also if anyone is interested in checking out more of my work, I now have a masterlist up and I posted a halloween Jimin fic earlier this week - find it here

Taehyung closed his door behind him and leant against it, shutting his eyes and exhaling.

They had made it out of angel. Just.

Entering in a car, they raised no suspicion. He had been lying on the floor of the back seat with Jimin, three boys crammed in above him while Yoongi crouched in the boot. The base leader had agreed to wait for the car, saying it was expected, though they made sure the handful of guards all saw the driver as he was waved through, known as one of Shinhyuk’s.

Their modern-day trojan horse then opened, and as planned, the head of the base had placed the whole building in lockdown, pretending to be surprised that the bangtan boys were found inside. Thus, Shinhyuk had been locked in his office, and the guards sent to man his door were all defects too, doing nothing while their boss pounded on the door, all in pretence of protecting him.

Of the guards they passed, only about half were still under Shinhyuk’s thumb, and they fought their way through with ease, all six of them come to rescue their brother.

Eventually, they were all positioned as lookouts while Jin and Jimin fetched the younger, but Shinhyuk had overridden the system and let himself out before they had left the final door.

In the end, they were in a standoff as Yoongi frantically hacked through the last code lock to freedom, hopefully flooding their system with enough malware to keep Shinhyuk occupied for some time, even if they hadn’t taken him down.

It had been a close one, but they made it. They always did.

Opening his eyes again, he let himself dwell on what was ahead instead. The only light in the house filtered underneath the bedroom door, so he climbed the stairs to greet you with a smile on his face.

But the room was empty.

“Y/N?” he yelled, spinning around.

Next he ran to the bathroom, pounding on the door, but it fell open straight away. It was unlocked, empty and dark.

Stumbling back out onto the landing, he tugged a hand through his hair. Already, his breathing was accelerating and he spun around again, eyes looking left and right as though you might suddenly jump out at him.

“Y/N?” he cried, feet pounding down the stairs.

He tore through the downstairs space, finding it equally abandoned.

His thoughts were tripping over each other as he stood in the centre of the living room, cold terror pulsing through his veins. Fumbling hands reached for his phone and shakily he pulled up Namjoon’s contact.

“She’s gone.”

You flinched as soon as your eyes cracked open. Only a flickering yellow light lit the room, but you had just surfaced from complete darkness. Swallowing, you found your throat dry, your head throbbing.

Trying to stretch your aching shoulders, nothing budged. Your hands were fastened behind you with rough and unyielding rope, pulling your shoulders painfully against the back of a chair. Warm liquid had soaked the top of your sleeve.

“Oh good.”

A rough voice broke through your haze of pain and you opened your eyes again.

In the middle of the room stood a stocky, balding man, dressed in a smart black shirt though it was rumpled. But it wasn’t the sight of him that made you gasp. You were tied up in the middle of your old living room.

The space was the same, except guns lay on the coffee table and duffel bags were piled up in one corner. Not to mention the two burly guards standing at either corner.

“So you’re the girl that’s been causing such a fuss,” the man who must be Shinhyuk rose from your dad’s tatty sofa and strode towards you, “I must say I’m impressed. Jintao, or should I say, Jake, assured me he knew you from college, and knew where you might run.

“We never expected this. Running off to join bangtan? But I suppose you had fun while your father worried sick about you, didn’t you, little slut.”

You could do nothing but stare down at Shinhyuk’s smart shoes. Dread had joined the pain filling your body.

“I was impressed that your little friends were able to escape me earlier,” he told you. Your head rose a little, sighing in relief as you heard they had made it out, “but I wasn’t worried. Now I have you to bring them back in.”

Chewing your lip, you prayed they wouldn’t come.

“Now,” Shinhyuk suddenly bent down, his hand gripping your cheeks harshly while you threw your head about, trying to throw him off. He just laughed, showing his teeth, “your lovely dad’s on the way to see you right now. And it’ll be a much sweeter reunion if I can show him to you unharmed.”

Your blood ran cold, still jerking away from his touch.

“And once your boyfriends get here, I won’t sentence you as badly if you just answer some questions I have.”

Wolfishly, he grinned, finally releasing you from his grimy fingers. In your chest, your heart thudded against your ribcage as you wondered what you could do.

“I want you to tell me where their properties are.”

Not meeting his eyes, you stayed silent.

Tutting, he crossed the room back to you, hand meeting your cheek with a loud slap.

Simply staring at you, he waited as you breathed in and out, reeling from the hit.

“Fine, let’s say you don’t know,” he started up again, “let’s try something else. Are any other members of my army spies for you?”

You held your tongue, and once again were met with the palm of his hand.

“How brave you are, protecting them,” he snarled, voice deadlier by the second, “if I don’t have some answers by the time your father arrives, he’s going to feel what you are, and more. Try again.”

Helplessly, you shook your head. This time, he punched you and you felt the harsh cut of his ring into your temple, tears springing to your eyes and you let your head fall to the side, breathing heavily.

Just then, another sound met your ears.

Shinhyuk spun towards the noise whereas you didn’t move. Outside, on the side where you knew the front of the apartment to be, came a grunt and a thud. Then another, followed by silence.

Striding over to the corner where a guard stood, Shinhyuk held his hand out and gestured for something. The guard handed over a black receiver, which Shinhyuk spoke into.

“What’s going on out there? Lee? Park?”

“Two of the bangtan boys, boss, they came like you said. We’ve got ‘em on the floor.”

A sadistic smile crossed Shinhyuk’s face.

“Put them in the kitchen. I’ll deal with them in a bit.”

“Copy that,” the voice came from the other end, and crackled off.

Heart sinking to your stomach, you watched Shinhyuk approach you again with a proud smirk. Outside, you heard the front door creak open in the way it always did, before slamming shut.

“You don’t have long, sweetie,” Shinhyuk’s words made your stomach churn, “who are the spies?”

“You really don’t trust your men, do you?” you finally spoke up, already knowing it unwise. But what did you have to lose? Either your father or your friends were going to get hurt and you were panicking.

“Little bitch-“

A sharp kick landed on your shin, which was tied flush against the chair leg and took the full force. You had to bite your lip to contain your cry.

“That’s it,” he grinned, “let your friends hear you.”

Another slap.

By now your eyes were watering, face cut and smarting, but you pressed your lips together.

Your eyes had been closed, anticipating the next strike, but nothing came. Lifting your head again, you found Shinhyuk with his back to you. When he turned around, you saw he held a knife, lifting a lighter up to its edge and flicking it open, flame leaping up and dancing along the blade.

Terrified, you watched the orange glimmer reflecting in his eye as he walked towards you.

“One more chance,” he gave you the ultimatum, but you already knew your answer.

Gulping, you looked him straight in the eye, desperate not to crack. But his mouth turned to a snarl when he was faced with silence, and he jammed the lighter into your arm.

You choked on your cry, determined not to make a sound, but Shinhyuk wasn’t playing around. The hot blade pierced your arm, and you couldn’t stop it as a scream ripped from your throat, drawn out as he dragged it down, leaving you gasping.

And then several things happened at once.

“Boss!” you heard Jake – Jintao – shout from the back of the apartment.

Shinhyuk turned to the sound.

Both doors into the room burst open.

The guards raised their guns.

And there, weapons cocked and ready to face them, stood five bangtan boys.

And they were pissed as hell.

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[charming-2d-boys]

CONGRATS AGAIN FOR 500+ FOLLOWERS

I love your writing so much omg!! You are one of my favorite writers on here ! 🥺💕

I didn’t see if you how many characters you can request for the prompts so you can just scratch one ( you can choose who ) if it’s just for one:

27&28 for Illumi & Hisoka?🥺

Thank you so much, anon! It makes me really happy to know that and I hope you'll like whatever else will be posted here in the future! 😄

I guess I didn't, did I? I'll think about something and make everything clearer and avoid confusion in the future. 🤔

Also, I chose Hisoka for this one because I just can’t see Illumi getting drunk. Like, at all.

Anyway, thank you for the request! 🙇💕

27. “No. Regrets.”

28. “How drunk was I?”

Word count: 1082

-----

   “Would’ve never thought you’d get married, Hisoka. But, well, you’re an idiot, so I can’t really say that I’m that surprised.” You said as you took another sip of your drink. Hisoka smirked, swirling the whiskey in his glass, the ice cubes clinking together in an almost bell-like noise.

   “Maybe so. But I’m a married man now. And my husband wouldn’t like it if his partner was called an idiot. ♦️” One of his sharp nails tapped against the glass before he took a sip, lightly grimacing at the burn it left behind.

   “Pretty sure that even Illumi thinks you’re an idiot. Married or not.”

   “Ouch, lovely, you’re hurting me~ ♠️” You rolled your eyes with a chuckle. You stared at your drink, thoughts going all over. Hisoka looked at his own glass before quietly whispering “Penny for your thoughts? ♥️”

   “I’m just thinking... This isn’t an actual marriage, right? It’s just for business.”

   “Worried about anything in particular? ♦️” Your boyfriend grinned. In response, you only huffed in mock exasperation, before taking a few seconds to think about how to word your thoughts.

   “What are we? How does this affect us? You getting killed doesn’t really sound pleasant. And as used as I am to your antics, Illumi isn’t just anyone. He might actually kill you.”

   “Are you worried about me, (Y/N)? ♠️” At your nod, he glanced at you. “Don’t worry, you’re not getting rid of me that easily. ♥️” You wouldn’t tell him that, but you were glad about his reassurance.

   “Well, as long as you’re sure about this… Let’s toast!” You said as you lifted you glass and Hisoka did the same. “I hope you won’t die from this anytime soon.” You both clinked your glasses, downing what you had in them before Hisoka asked for refills.

   “You know I’m the strongest, right, lovely? ♣” He boasted, drinking his whiskey while his eyes stayed on your face, studying your expression. You only nodded before drinking your second round. Between him and Illumi, you wouldn’t be able to tell who would win in a fight. They were both skilled and confident in their skills and strength and had learnt everything they knew through some pretty harsh ways and environments. You only hoped that an eventual fight between the “newlyweds” wouldn’t occur anytime soon.

   The night went on, with Hisoka drinking shot after shot while you drank water as well, just to keep the tipsiness there, but not go overboard. While it took a while, Hisoka went over the tipsiness level and, as a spur of the moment decision, got up, taking your hand in his.

   “We’re going to celebrate~ ♠️” Your boyfriend slurred a little, golden eyes glinting – whether it was from mischief, the light or alcohol, you didn’t know for sure.

   “Haven’t we been celebrating for the past hours?” You questioned, making sure not to trip as you tried to keep up with his long strides. Hisoka tutted, amused at your assumption as he kept walking without bumping into people despite the alcohol in his system.

   “That was only a warm-up, lovely~ ♦️” To say that you were a little scared for what was to come was an understatement. Hisoka could come up with some of the craziest ideas sometimes. And that’s how the rest of the night became a blur. Shopping, drinking, going to the circus, drinking again, Hisoka skinny dipping in the sea, even more drinking and eating for 10 people - you only ate for two and felt like bursting while Hisoka would’ve probably ordered more if it wasn’t for you dragging him out of the restaurant. By that point, Hisoka was giggling from pretty much everything and walking a little funny, commenting on whatever his eyes landed on. You knew you had to take end the night when he told you that he was sure he could bungee jump using his Bungee Gum – he was crazy and drunk enough to prove it to you.

   Needless to say, you took him home. And unsurprisingly, he started taking his clothes off as soon as you let him go to close and lock the door. By the time you were done, Hisoka was probably in the bathroom or bedroom, a trails of clothes left behind like the breadcrumbs in Hansel and Gretel. Of course you picked them up and put them in the washing machine – they’d have to be left there for the next day. In the bedroom, you found Hisoka, covers covering most of his body as he laid sprawled out on the bed. With little resistance, you managed to climb in beside him after changing your clothes and leaving a glass of water and a painkiller on the nightstand. He had barely moved when you pushed his leg and arm to his side so you’d have space – though they quickly returned, only this time they were over you, trapping you for the time being. You could only sigh as you fell asleep, tipsy and tired because of Hisoka’s burst of energy.

   The next day, you woke up to Hisoka groaning. No unexpected, though you were unsure about how bad his hangover actually was. He did drink a hefty amount the night before.

   “There’s a painkiller and water next to you. I hope you regret the fact that you drank so much and this is enough punishment.” You said as you stretched, watching your boyfriend take the pill before glaring at you, his hair dishevelled and makeup smudged.

   “How drunk was I? ♣” He asked you, voice deep and with a hint of pain as he rubbed the back of his head.

   “I don’t even know, to be honest. You’re lucky you didn’t throw up. Though I don’t understand how, but oh well…”

   “No. Regrets. ♣ And you know that I have a pretty high tolerance, right? ♦️ It’s not my first time drinking. ♠️” You rolled your eyes at him before giving his forehead a flick. Another glare but he rubbed his head, the hangover making him a little less dangerous.

   “Oh, I know. And don’t worry, you didn’t do anything that you probably wouldn’t do sober.” You chuckled before getting up, ready to start your day while Hisoka watched you. “Well, I’m going to make breakfast. Do you want me to make it for you or should I call your hubby?” The last thing you did was laugh as you bolted out of the room, hearing the thud of Hisoka’s pillow as it hit the wall where you stood a few seconds before followed by grumbling. Hopefully breakfast would make him less grumpy.

[captaincravatthecapricious]

Can’t Get Up- Prompt Fill

See I told you I did both!  Cw dizziness, fainting, fever, head injuries, and canon typical being mean to Jon

Send me more prompts!  (Bingo card by @celosiaa​) The ones with stars are the ones I already have prompts for, the crossed out ones are the ones I have posted!  Send me a character, a prompt, and tell me if you want an art or a fic!!!!!!

This one makes a Lot more sense if you read Too Much by @janekfan​ first, but do as you will, I think it can also stand alone.  

The lingering fever left over from Jon’s (to Martin’s and Tim’s lack of information: mysterious and) hellish few days continued to do just that... linger.  

Burned and bruised.  Concussed and dizzy.   

The fever was never overly dangerous, but it sapped Jon’s already basically nonexistent reserve of energy.  And it just... lingered.  Lingers.  

It's better now that Tim and Jon had some sort of talk, but neither of them really know how they stand with the other.  

Well, it is better for Jon because he has two people who give a shit if he collapses in the hall now.  And better for Martin because one less person is going to actively try to hurt Jon.  And better for Tim because he’s missed his friend.  But it’s still awkward.  

Tim watches Jon drag himself from the cot another morning.  It was Tim that stayed with him last night, Martin's turn tonight.  Jon is scared and confused and shouldn't be left alone.  Not when he screams himself awake every couple hours.  Not when gets so dizzy that he loses track of what he is meant to be doing.  

Jon has been trying to push through.  Trying to work.  To make himself useful.  To help save the world.  To work himself into the ground so he doesn't think about how shitty everything has been for him.  

Tim watches him drag himself up, and crumple right back down again.  Tim managing to break his fall.  Again.  He should text Martin.  He does text Martin.  

Jon blinks up fuzzily at him after just a few seconds.  

"Sorry," Jon slurs.  

"Stop that," Tim says, not unkindly.  Still trying to remember how to be kind with this fragile little man.  

"I need... 'Sira need me to... I should get up."  Jon is still struggling for words, eyes slipping closed, making no move to push himself from Tim's chest, where Tim has been pillowing him.  

Jon might be asleep again.  It's hard to tell.  Tim presses a hand to Jon's forehead, confirming it still too warm, but not worse, and returns to his seemingly endless playing with Jon's hair.  

It is still a bit before hours, so he doesn't expect Martin to appear the next moment, more like in the next half hour, depending on the crowds and the tube.  But, when he hears footsteps approaching he feels relief, until he realizes those aren't Martin's footsteps.  Too sharp.  Still heavy, bit not heavy enough.  Jon did mention needing to get something to Basira.

No one has... talked to Tim about his ....calling it a change of heart sounds stupid.  He isn't going to call it that.  He didn't have a change of heart, per se.  He just realized he had his head up his ass and was honestly just as bad as Jon in some ways.  Not to mention, he couldn't keep blaming Jon when Jon was basically just an unlucky punching bag, now with the added flavor or concussed and feverish.  

"Right," says Basira, pushing open the door after a single, sharp knock.  Pulling Jon from his uneasy sleep. 

He scrambles upright.  Too fast, sending him into a swoon for the second time in just a few minutes.  

"Did you find those files?  I need them if we want to actually stop the circus, and not just have a slumber party."  There is clearly judgement in her eyes.  

Tim, who caught Jon for the second time this morning, has an arm around him protectively.  

Jon is coming around again.  "Mmm wh'?"  He forces his eyes open against the light Basira flipped on upon her entrance, eyes crossing as he tries to bring Basira into focus.  

"Jon, look.  We really don't have time for... whatever this is.  Just get up and do something useful or just leave.  And leave the rest of us to clean up this mess."  It isn't that she is outright mean.  Not like Daisy.  Not hostile like Melanie.  But cold.  Which.... Tim shouldn't begrudge her for, but he wants to.  Was she there when Jon was beaten?  Tim's seen those bruises.  Still dark and angry.  Jon still cries out when handled roughly, or when handled gently but not gently enough.  

Was she there?  Was she complicit in this mess?  And if she was... if she watched Jon get beaten by her partner.  If she was one of the faces that stood over Jon while he dug a grave... and just waltzed back in here demanding Jon to help.  Jon who can't even stay conscious...  Who has been feverish and incoherent... 

Who is she to do that?  

Footsteps.  

Martin.  

Good.  Tim doesn't know what to do.  His instinct is to protect.  To push away.  To fight.  But can he trust that instinct?  When that's what he accused Jon of doing?  What he, himself had done?

"Morning Basira, do you think I can get through?  Jon's been a bit poorly and I rather doubt you looming over him is going to help."  

Martin.  God bless Martin.  

She scowls but stands aside.  

Martin, studiously ignores her.  

Tim would rather like to kiss him.  

Jon is still having trouble following the conversation.  But he visibly brightens when Martin steps into view.  Martin checks his temperature with the inside of his wrist.  He tuts gently at Jon, who still seems too dizzy to sit up on his own.  

"So...?" Basira.  Reminding the three of them that she is, in fact there.  

"Sorry," mumbles Jon, still barely coherent, and certainly not aware of what he was apologizing for this time.  A reflex that makes Tim shudder.  

"I'll do it myself."  She turns on her heal and leaves.  Shutting the door a bit too hardly, and Jon flinches.  

"Hey, Jon.  How are you feeling?"  Tim scoots over as gently as he can so as not to jostle Jon too much.  He makes room for Martin next to them.  

Jon's eyes flicker closed again.  Tim isn't sure if he's lost consciousness again or if he's just closed his eyes against the dizziness.  

Martin watches with worry etched on is face.  "How's he doing?"

Tim pulls a face.  "Not worse, I don't think... but not better.  Still getting nightmares.  But he's passed out on me twice, though.  Not sure what to do about that.   Could be the vertigo, could be a panic response, could be the fever, hell it could be dehydration or hunger.  We haven't gotten much food in him."  Tim yawns.  It has been a painfully long few days.  And he's only gotten the chance to sleep every other night.  

"Maybe... one of us should take him home?"  Martin has lost some of that self confidence that he managed to put up around Basira.  Probably because Tim know's Martin's flat wouldn't be comfortable for two or three people.  Probably because Martin isn't sure just how far Tim is willing to be put out on Jon's behalf.  

Then again.  It is a bit too late not to be involved.  Because Jon cannot seem to get up without passing out and so Tim has just been cuddling him for hours.  

"I can take him to mine.  I have more space."  He offers a tired smile, sparing Martin the halting questions, and Tim the hurt of knowing he isn't fully trusted anymore.  Not that he blames Martin for that.  He made his bed, now he'll lay in it.  Shit, did he make his bed?  Well they are about to find out.  "You call a cab, I'll see if I can wake him?"

Martin nods, and makes to do that.  Exiting the room to spare Jon the extra volume.  

"Hey Jon?"  Tim runs his free hand through Jon's hair for a few moments.  Watching Jon's eyes slowly flicker open.  

"Mmmmm."  Jon's bandaged hands holding on to his shirt.  Too-warm forehead pressed against his chest.  

"Is it alright if I take you home?"

"What 'bout work?"  Jon's mouth barely able to form the words.  Can't see straight enough to read anything.  

"Bud, how exactly did you plan to do any work?"  

Jon tries to focus his eyes.  And his words.  He only manages to squint slightly.  

"We tried letting you work, but you aren't getting better, how about you take a couple days to get better, then you can come back and we can save the world?  Besides.  Shouldn't do work with a concussion.  Don't want brain damage, do you?"  Tim starts slowly easing Jon upright, only to have Jon's eyes roll back.  Again.  "Shit!"

"You both okay?"  Martin's back.  Good.  Tim doesn't know what to do.  

"Well I woke him up, but when I tried sitting him up, he fainted on me again."

Martin tuts again, and sits back next to them to check on Jon for himself.  "Maybe we should move him while he's out to spare him the trip.  The cab will be here soon."  

Tim shrugs and slowly gets to his feet.  Maneuvering Jon into a bridal carry as he does so.  "Now we just gotta make sure that the cabbie doesn't think we are kidnapping him."  

Matin flutters around, wanting to make sure the position will be comfortable enough for Jon when he eventually comes around.  "It'll be fine.  He should be conscious by then."

"Yeah and what do we say, our boss had a bit too much to drink at..."  He searches for the wall clock.  "9:30 in the morning."  

"We say we're from the Magnus Institute, and they will ignore everything about us, Tim."  

Tim... still needs to get used to this side of Martin.  He kind of loves it when the bitterness isn't aimed at him.  

Jon comes around again and they pass the others in the bullpen, clinging tightly to Tim's shirt until the sudden change of level of the stairs makes him dizzier and his head ache, if the small, fragile sounds he is making are any indication.  

Martin is right.  The cabbie doesn't a single question once he sees the building they are standing in front of.  

Martin makes tea.  Tim makes soup.  And Jon is tucked tightly in Tim's bed for the first time in over a year.