#to clarify he hit me up at least once a month for a YEAR after and told me he was giving up working for my attention.............

[milkygothgf]

No way a dude I gave head to one time nearly two years ago just hit me up,,,,,, Guess it was good head :3

[hollyhomburg]

Before I Leave You (Pt.63)

(Omegaverse au, Mafia au, Bts x Reader)

Summary: you never thought that just cuddling with Hobi on a cold day could lead to this; his pants off and you begging "Daisy please-"

Tags: fluff, a little hurt but mostly just comfort, first times, soft cuddle sex, unintentional mutual somnophilia, knotting, scenting, under clarified limits, a touch of slick kink, breeding kink, a touch of size kink (you know the good stuff), unrealistic amounts of cum, implied belly bulge, implied feral sex, small triggers after sex, small references to past abusive relationships, hole check's, knot checks, dom/sub undertones to later scenes but not in the main smut,

W/c: 14.2k

A/n: thank you guys for being patient for this next chapter :) it's one of my favorites so please give it lots of love! i know we've all been waiting for hobi's confession and the completion of their arc, did i do it justice? Also i'm sorry that i have a pathological need to end every single chapter with a cliffhanger lol, this one is no different!

Previous part ~ Masterlist

(5 years ago. Before Yoongi. Before everyone.)

Jung Hoseok cleans his arms in a bathroom. He is 21 years old, there is lipstick on his fingers, and nothing bad has happened to him yet.

Bad is all relative of course. Some would call growing up in a rich area while living in a one-bedroom apartment bad. Some people would call not really knowing your parents because they work late nights bad. Some would even say that the fact that they won’t pay for Hoseok’s college education a fucking tragedy.

But between you and me and Hoseok; other people wouldn't know a fucking tragedy if it hit them in the fucking face. Talking to some people about your suffering is like trying to make a toddler shoot the broad side of a god damn barn with a double barrel shotgun. Or like those little lemon slices they put in the water at olive garden-

It's fucking useless. And you're more likely to be sent to the hospital than get some actual fucking results. Weather it's because of food poisoning, a bullet wound, or because some idiot you trusted thinks you're a god damn suicide risk.

See right? Talking about your problems is fucking useless.

But he’s always been able to focus on the brighter side of things. It's a blessing and a curse because optimism always lies to you. It's easier to be happy than it is to be upset, at least for Hoseok at this moment.

At least he was an optimist until they ruined him a little. After this year, finding the silver will take effort.

The tiles beneath his feet are cold to the touch. He knows that there’s a button somewhere to turn on the heated flooring but he just can’t find it. Hidden and unfamiliar as he is with this den. So different from his own little dormitory halfway across the city.

This fancy three-bedroom apartment is one that he will move into in precisely 4 months once they make it official, he’ll live here for exactly 2 years 3 months, and 8 days before being kicked out and moving into the pack's den. It’s exactly 2 years to the date that he meets Min Yoongi in the record store.

But nothing bad has happened to him yet. Today he is just himself, No idea of what's about to befall him and that It won't just be bad.

This apartment is upscale, with its wainscotting and long gauzy curtains that barely keep out the sound of the city streets 5 stories below and the lightly warm June morning. He’s not quite sure who pays for this one yet. Hasn’t had the chance to ask, he's only been seeing this pack for 2 months. This Hoseok is shyer than the one you know. Timid and unsure of where he should place his dulled claws.

It's all awfully mysterious. The question of "What do your parents do?" and the answer pressed to a raised finger. The truth lingering between lipstick and manicure on a single giggled breath.

"That's a secret"

He casts a glance around the bathroom, the marble counters, the plush hand towels, and even the designer soap is forghein to him.

Rich people.

It's one part tired jealousy and one part true distaste. Even if Hoseok had all the money in the world he wouldn't waste it on painting a bathroom white or powdery Dior soap. Why not blue or orange or green or pink?

(Oh Hobi. The pack’s bathroom will be green one day, with delicate tiles in the shade of the lightest moss. Not yellow-toned and not blue. he's going to help yoongi pick it out, He just doesn’t know it yet).

Their apartment is just a few blocks from the college that he attends, a freshman but not for much longer. A freshman, along with the pack's youngest. Her on the business track and him in a weed-out art department. The prerequisite humanities course is their shared battleground.

Out of everything in this story, this is the only true coincidence.

This version of Hoseok likes omegas with a bit of a dark side. The ones that are a bit bitchy, a bit entitled and alot pretty. The ones that hone their eyeliner to a vicious edge, or the male ones that act a little bit more like alphas and disobey gender norms. That’s what drew his eye to this pack's youngest in their hum 1 class.

He got a little melty when her eyes turned less “I’ll kill you if you even sniff in my direction” and more “A pretty alpha like you has to have a pack right?”

Hoseok had stuttered when he’d said that No- he didn’t.

Before long he’ll drop out because he just can’t cut it at art school. Just can’t spend nights with fingers black from charcoal, working on things that will one day be thrown in the garbage because he’ll have a pack to attend to. Good alpha that he is.

(It will be years before he realizes that it wasn't art school just mediums. He’s meant to use flowers to make things instead.)

They’re not his pack yet, not yet. not yet. Not Yet- But there is a gift waiting for him downstairs. A fancy set of pastels and paints. It’s the start of courting even though he’s supposed to be the one buying them gifts. He’s the penniless college student they’re the ones with the nice apartment. He’s the one with the knot, and they’re all omegas. It’s a give-and-take.

Yet somehow even though he’ll be the only alpha he knows he won’t be the pack alpha.

He cleans the lipstick from his fingers. Bright red. He knows he has it in other places too, down below the tugged low hemline of his pants pulled on after they were done fucking.

The last thing he wants to be is like the other alphas in the fraternities on campus, the ones that holler at all the omegas shit like “I can taste your slick from here baby,” and “want to study anatomy together? I’m a hands-on learner” Hobi dreads the idea that he might be like that. Even a little bit. Even unintentionally.

But still, their words from earlier ring in his ears.

“They haven’t been dating for that long, you can’t expect us to be comfortable all the time with you in our nest, it's a really intimate thing for us."

Hobi feels like one of those phraternity alphas when it makes him uncomfortable.

It’s reasonable that they wanted to give his knot a ride and try him out before they make it official. One alpha and four omegas, these odds are every alpha’s wet dream. He knows his performance was Oscar-worthy.

It had been nice to be in a nest for just a little bit, Hoseok’s biology wants it, the tense knot between his shoulders all loose.

Hoseok has never been loved by someone who wanted to talk to him every day, it will be easy for them to reduce his focus to their beck and call.

There's 4 different colors of lipstick on his cock. Four different shades from four different women. His new packmates get to the carrot part of the carrot and stick arrangement.

In the future, he’ll deny that he ever thought of any of these women as that- as packmates. He'll say it was only ever Namjoon’s pack that he wanted in this way. He’ll say it never compared and it didn’t. Except for these first few months. These first few days.

Memories lie to us all the time; memory is the best secret keeper.

He watches one of his packmates sit on the edge of the nest, she wears the lipstick prints better than he does. Lining the inside of her thighs, her own lips smudged.

Hoseok doesn’t let the smile fall from his lips and she smiles back. She tugs her long hair free of a bun that she’d put it up in so that she didn’t get slick in it. It will be a few more months until she cuts it above her collarbones. Blunt to a brutal edge.

Hoseok’s sweatshirt is on the edge of the nest, and Hoseok watches as she brings it to her nose, breathing in deep. Hoseok is just about to say that she can wear it when she throws it onto a nearby ottoman. Not onto the floor thankfully. No omega has ever worn his sweatshirt before. Hoseok tries not to let the rejection of his scent sting.

She looks at the lipstick on Hoseok, there’s a bit on his lip. “Come here.” She asks, parting her legs.

Hoseok is a good alpha and goes.

~-~

(Now, You and Hobi)

When Hobi wakes it's because the pack is moving around the room, bickering, and struggling to be quiet, bickering a little.

Their low hum drum voices as they talk about “Jungkookie? where did you put my mittens?” and ”I sort of love that you still wear mittens, babe.” Yoongi’s deep rumble, “Did Jimin buy those for you too?” All teasing and understanding. Because if anyone knows how Tae likes to be teased, Yoongi does.

Tae’s fond little croon is so melodic it makes Hobi sigh, ears straining to hear more of it. “Yes, he did. Got pup matching ones too.”

Pup. that’s you. Curled in the center of the nest under Hobi's elbows. dozing but unable to lift your head from where it's pillowed. You’re sure that Yoongi knows you’re kind of awake or at least listening in because Yoongi knows everything.

You’re sure that as he looks down at you and Hobi tangled together, he’s doing it with a smirk. You don’t need to open your eyes and double-check.

The temperature of the nest is balmy, overly warm in the way that it gets when it’s cold outside and the nesting is hitting so particularly good that Hobi won’t even think of moving. (The way it feels when you come out of the cold and into the waiting arms of someone you love) Hobi nuzzles into the warmth in front of him.

A small storm brews outside. The snow has been falling since midday. Just a little here and there. But Tae loves how it looks with all the Christmas lights. There aren’t quite enough up yet but the holiday season is close.

But the snow won't last, soon it won’t be falling at all. It will all melt off by tonight, the afternoon is supposed to be sunny. Can sun showers happen with snow?

"Do you think we could walk all the way to the gym, it's not all that far! only like 10 miles. We could run it in like an hour!"

He listens to the others talk. The sound of Yoongi’s voice, gravely and vaguely upset. “Jungkook, you’re not really thinking about going to work out right now- You’ve barely been home for like 5 hours. I just said we could go do something not run 10 fucking miles.”

Jungkook always gets this way; when the dizziness of the seizures turns to restlessness and he's honestly fine but the others can't resist trying to baby him. Too awake to sleep anymore. He sounds grumpy, whiney, and pouty even though Hobi's eyes aren't open to see him turn his puppy eyes on Yoongi. “I’m never going to be able to sleep tonight if I don’t hyung- I’m gonna go crazy.”

There’s the faint sound of lips meeting and smacking. Kisses that are probably meant to soothe Jungkook. “How about we compromise pup.”

“A walk?” Tae offers, sounding hopeful.

“A long walk.”

You shift a little and Hoseok opens his eyes. You're mostly still asleep just settling, making yourself more comfortable with the new space no longer corralled by arms and bodies.

Hobi’s mouth is dry when he watches you shift onto your stomach your face half-smushed into the cushions, scenting them a little in your sleep. The homey scent fizzle in Hoseok’s bones tells him that you've scented him too. Being surrounded by the pack's scent like this makes Hobi’s skin feel like pop rocks. Like his bones are mentos and coca cola. All sensitive and tingly.

He’s cuddled with you before- through your nightmares and last night at the hospital of course- but it’s never been just the two of you in a nest. He’s never been the only alpha here, charged with guarding the pillows and blankets and you curled soft in the center.

Hobi tentatively puts an arm around your waist, tugging you a little closer. The house still hasn't totally warmed up yet and you'd be cold without some body heat. He does it slowly, seeing if you’ll wake.

There is a hand in his hair, petting softly, and he snatches his arm from around your waist the second Hoseok realizes he's being watched. Yoongi leans over the edge of the couch-turned-nest, smirking a little. The door shuts behind Tae and Jungkook with a puff of cold air, and he raises his eyebrows expectantly.

He would look intimidating if his beanie didn't have cat ears. 

The pads of Yoongi's fingers rub soothing circles under Hobi's jaw and his lips part unintentionally. “Be good yeah?” he says, whisper soft. Hoseok just nods, too sleepy to verbally respond.

They haven’t talked much about Hobi’s confession; that night on the beach what feels like ages ago. But everytime he thinks of it Hobi still tastes salt on his tongue and your name on his lips. 

Yoongi’s wearing the same look now that he did then; half hopeful and half worried. But if there was anyone that would object on your behalf, if Hobi wasn't allowed this closeness with you, Yoongi would tell him.

Yoongi doesn't say that you and him aren't ready for cuddling like this. Yoongi doesn't say that Hoseok should give you space or not cradle you to his chest like you are something as fragile and necessary and as doomed as his beating heart. Trembling and stuttering with the force of sweet expectations and hopes made hollow with satisfaction.

Yoongi does not realize that Hoseok's heart has not had a steady beat since he woke up holding you.

Yoongi doesn't say anything. Yoongi just drags a single knuckle down his cheek and leaves. Heading out after Tae and Jungkook who are, judging from the hallow sound of snow hitting the windows- are having a snowball fight.

“If one of those hits me I’m not holding anyone’s hand for the whole walk-“

The door keeps out the sound of Tae's sweet giggles and Jungkook’s pouted, "just one hyung- I won't hit your face-" 

And the two of you are alone. Wrapped up warm, quiet and hushed, just the two of you.

Well, except for Noodle.

The meticulously kept edge of the nest is all fluffed, Noodle makes sure of it. Small paws depressing the blanket as he kneads it and then settles on the edge. His purr is audible from here as he blinks slowly from the bottom of the couch turned nest. Jin wrangled him for a brushing yesterday morning and his coat still looks extra fluffy and kempt. 

Unwatched and unjudged, Hobi tentatively reaches to cradle your ribs again. Thumb smoothing down the center of your stomach, a little close to your belly button. You’ve got a little hair there. Hobi’s fingers like the feel of it. Not rough but not silky.

Your skin feels like champagne bubbles and sparklers, everywhere he touches your skin goes fizzy. Hobi looks down at you, breath hitching, and thinks Is it really so horrible to want this? Why am I so afraid of this? 

You wiggle a little closer in your sleep and Hobi’s arm goes vicelike.

Noodle's purr goes a little louder. 

Hobi doesn’t like to think about his last pack ever, but he recognizes that hollow ache and tug that says memories aren’t too far behind. And it threatens to swallow him until he looks down at you. The house is quiet but your eyebrows are puffed up like something very shocking is happening in your dreams. He doesn't want to think about them right now. 

He drags his nose across your hairline; scenting you. Tasting your emotions on his tongue. Comfort. Ease. Arousal-sweet. Not all that abnormal. Not nightmares then. He is always on the lookout for them. After Jungkook and the hospital, he sort of thought they might come back. 

Hoseok counts his stars and snowflakes, and rests his forehead against the nape of your neck.

Over the next hour, you’re restless. Moving, worming your way closer to him as he goes in and out of sleep. You make a soft noise and he shushes you. a growl that says to stay put and alpha's here.

You blink slowly up at him. Hobi pulls back, taking his arm from around your waist, feeling like he’s just stolen candy from a jar on the counter that’s for him anyway. You stretch and don't comment on it, yawning. 

Noodle hops closer, squirming between the two of you and stepping over your shoulders. Meowing right in Hoseok’s face. “Alright alright, I’ll feed you again.”

You snuggle into the warm hallow he left on the couch when he detangles himself, hand under your cheek watching him as he stumbles out of the nest. Noodle follows tail held high. It's truly horrible. Leaving the nest when every bit of Hobi's body wants him to stay in the warmth. The house is always so slow to warm up. 

“Fuck the floors are cold.”

“Quick,” you say, face above the edge of the cover. Hoseok rushes, doling out a single scoop of dry food and then running back to you. Hobi wastes precious seconds to grab his headphones from the kitchen table before collapsing onto the couch where you hold the blanket up, sealing the warmth and him back inside. The headphones tangle between the two of you and he falls with a giggle. Disappearing among the white blanket. He sinks thankfully into the warmth, into the safety that the nest offers. Into you.

Your warm arms wrap around his shoulders and his body shivers delightfully in a way that has nothing to do with the cold. Your jaw pops when you yawn and then he yawns too, a breath later. You laugh too and tuck your face into his shoulder.

“Fuck- it’s so cozy.”

It really is, the kind of cozy that only comes along a few times a year. A quiet to your bones that says there is nothing to do now but rest. The coldness that turns your bodies into these molten-loving things. Your warmth and Hoseok’s warmth. One warmth.

He breathes, deep and heavy.

“I don’t know if I want to get up yet.” The house is still quiet. Nothing but Noodles happy munching sounds and the faint scratch of big snowflakes hitting the windows.

Hobi’s heart beats frantic against yours and you sigh. “Wanna listen to some music?” He offers. Hobi always loves a backtrack, a little compliment for the exposition.

You nod, a little sleepy, but Hobi has a playlist for that. He’s got a playlist for everything including ’sleepy cozy pup time’. The headphones take a second to locate, lost in the nest. But when he does you share them. One earphone a piece, the sound turned low so you can still talk.

Hobi puts on a love song, and it makes you smell all sweet. Stretched out with your hair tangling because you’ve left it unbound, the split ends prodding at Hobi’s cheeks. He doesn’t really listen to the song, just watches you. Eyes closed humming softly.

Your scent sours and Hoseok's hand goes tight on your wrist. You tell him what's bothering you without him even having to ask.

“I saw this line the other day that didn't like." You look at the ceiling, not at him. "it said a love song is really good if you can’t tell whether they’re talking about another person or if they’re talking about god.”

You think about Jimin and Tae. You've been thinking about it since Tae talked about their childhood earlier and the bloody cross between the two of them. If holiness does exist, it’s in Tae. If there is anything like religion for you or Jimin, it's love. God has nothing to do with it. God's not the person who makes love songs sound good.

Hobi turns on his side, leaning on his elbow. “I’m not sure Jimin would agree with that either.”

You turn in time to see Hobi’s smile. It catches the sunlight, lingering right on his cheek. An octagonal shaft of sunlight that has traveled millions of miles to get there could not have found a more beautiful place to fall. He huffs a quiet laugh again, and you swear you might hear the highest note of a piano somewhere.

You wonder when he became so musical to you, maybe it’s just because he’s the person who made you love music so much.

(You can tell a love song is good, when it makes you think of Hobi).

“You’re still worried about him, aren’t you?” You rest your lips against his shoulder and Hobi’s body doesn’t move an inch. They’re soft where they lie not a kiss but not not a kiss either. You can rest your lips against his skin, you can rest your whole body and Hoseok wouldn't move an inch.

“Always worried, got to worry about Minnie. Always worried about everyone.” You mumble. Eyes closing.

The light comes through the windows all honey yellow, turning the bookshelves that Yoongi made gold instead of white. Turns the tops of Hobi’s hair a little red too, the brown has endless depths in the sunlight all burnt umber and Sienna where the sun hits, yellow ocher at the tips. The sunlight savors falling on Hobi, down to the last inch.

You try to keep your eyes open, struggling, and Hobi sets a hand on the top of your head, ruffling your hair lightly.

"Go back to sleep pup."

You hum, already half there. He pulls you a little on top of him, holding you with a firmness usually reserved for too-large packages and the tenderness reserved for very fragile very precious things. It makes your whole body feel tingly at the edges.

“Thanks for not leaving the nest when everyone else did,” you think he might be asleep for how long it takes him to answer. But everything in the last 24 hours has left you feeling like you don’t want to be alone, that you can’t be left by yourself. He breathes up and it presses against your stomach.

“Didn’t want to go with the others- just wanted to stay here in the nest with you.” nesting is a biological need for alphas as much as it is for omegas, Hobi hasn't felt so relaxed in ages.

He murmurs, hand still skimming through your hair. His thumb rolling against the nape of your neck and you shiver hard into the touch, sinking further into him. “Is that okay?”

Your hand finds a spot under his arm and you use it to tug yourself closer, getting your forehead against his shoulder, the headphones slipping from your ear.

“Yeah. It’s always okay.”

Hobi tucks your hair behind your ear and puts the headphones back in.

The next time you wake it’s because Noodle is licking at your forehead, grooming you, and you hear the shutter sound of Hobi’s camera, his small giggle. You swat at noodles face and he bats at you a little before settling on the small of your back, fighting Hobi for necessary real-estate and howling when he gets pushed off.

“Nu, be quiet,” Hobi’s hushed words are answered with an equally quiet meow that sends you straight off to dreamland again.

You don't know how long it's been, it could have been hours or minutes the next time you wake. You just know that Hobi smells good, smells musky sweet caramel all drippy and heady, that you've got your nose pressed up against his scent gland. All surrounded by it. Surrounded by him.

The next time you wake is not so innocent.

You’re a little too close. Cuddling with Hobi in a way that you might with Yoongi- with Namjoon or Jungkook. All warm snug hot. Bodies and dreams tangled so thoroughly that it's hard to tell where dreamy wants begin and fragile delights end.

You’re warm at your front from Hobi and warm on your back from the sunshine streaming through the window. Warm all the way through. Until he moves his hand and you realize that’s from him too. His fingers splayed over your spine.

You think you can be forgiven for confusing them. Hoseok and sunlight are one and the same.

The apex of your thigh is pressed tight to his hip just where his thigh starts. Your leg hitched over his hip and tight to it. The fabric of his sweatpants and the fabric of your pajama shorts are all bunched up from your movements. Your knee bent at a comfortable angle. His scent is heady in your nose, pressed to the low tugged collar of his shirt just over his heart.

As close as you can be but still not enough.

You don't even realize your hips are moving, sleepily grinding against his thigh until it's too late.

Hobi grabs your hips and groans.

You stop mid-movement, thoughts sloshing sleepy. And oh, you were moving, weren’t you? There is a dampness between your thighs and the scent of slick and arousal sharp in the air. That comfortable pleasure hiccup in your throat that says you want to cum and can. could like this.

You jerk back from the warmth in front of you, startled into wakefulness as you realize exactly you were just doing.

Oh no- you didn’t mean- Hobi. Alpha, warm and comfortable at your front.

You start to back up, still half asleep, but terror and embarrassment flood you like the ocean floods the sea rocks at high tide.

Hobi groans, a deep near growl sound, and moves before you can back up even an inch. he was just as asleep as you just were until you pulled away. His sleepy brain still clings to you.

His hands slip lower, holding you tight against his front. His sleepy alpha brain is malfunctioning. Sweet omega needs to stay close. The source of his warmth and the friction against his front cannot slip away.

His hands are on your ass and your pussy is pressed flushed to his hip, and Hobi-

Hobi is your best friend, Hobi is your packmate and Hobi has to be unaware of what he’s doing. You’re sure of it. You try to pull away again from him fighting back more embarrassment than you've ever felt in your entire life, hands pressed to his chest.

But He pulls you right back to him.

Right into a unmistakable hardness poking at your stomach. Hard and warm. Right where you were grinding in your sleep.

Hoseok’s heavy breath brushes your ear.

Instincts are incredibly hard to describe. The way they hook into your consciousness and separate reason from action and want from logic. The part of you that’s in control, that recognizes that you and Hobi shouldn’t be this close like this if it’s not talked about, is so distant.

A needy sound echoes that might be from you, that is from you, as Hobi’s hands slide up your hips and under his sweatshirt. Cold hands on your warm hips and oh-

Hobi’s eyes are cracked open, looking down at you, watching you with pink cheeks. Tongue darting out to lick at his lip. “S’okey you just-" his eyes flutter closed again; breath warm against your face. "You take what you need.”

It’s only a testament to the pack's care that you associate these things with each other. Safety and coziness are just so close to pleasure and comfort. Your sleepy body associates this kind of nesting with sex. it's only natural that you'd get a little needy while inside of it.

You can get needy, Hobi doesn't mind.

Before either of you can say if you really should, if this is really a good thing to do without talking about it first. Hobi’s hands are on your waist, pulling you back snug, his hard thigh between your legs.

If you were more awake, you’d think better of it, you’d think so much but there is only that sweet pressure. The drag, the wetness, the soft little huffs of breath that he shushes when he lets you take what you need. Helps you with his hands on your hips and guides you back into rocking against his thigh.

You feel it all the way down to your toes when his hands slide down to the curve of your ass then back up again, underneath the hem of your shorts and then your sweatshirt- his too (all of you his). Rucked up to your ribs.

“Soft.” Hobi groans.

This must not be real. This has to be a dream. Because Hobi doesn't want to touch you like this, Hobi doesn't groan and twitch against your stomach or guide the movement of your hips with his hands into a slow grind that has you gasping against his jaw. Hobi doesn’t leave the seat of your pajama bottoms soaked with slick. Hole clenching around nothing already. Utterly boneless where you lie against his front.

There is one single moment where you look at each other, one single moment where you try to keep from going any farther. Even though you want it, even though he wants it too. If Namjoon and Jin have taught you anything they've taught you caution.

Hoseok can smell the others lingering on your skin, the spot on the top of your head where Yoongi rested his cheek. He leans down, brushing his lips over it. It’s such a tender gesture and it breaks the flood and he's tugging you up, tugging you even closer, desperation coloring his voice all sweet.

“Fuck- please.” His forehead rests against yours, “fuck I just need-“

You're not sure who moves first, who starts the kiss only that once you’re kissing him it’s hard to stop. One second you're holding back and the next you're kissing him like he's Yoongi and he's kissing you like he's starving.

Teeth clanging against each other, harsh as they nip. Kissing so good that when you pull apart for breath you're both gasping and it has nothing to do with needing air.

Hobi has such nice lips it’s no wonder that they’re heart-shaped. Made for kissing, made for the needy needy licking against the seam of his lips. He shifts turning you on your side, surging up to kiss you properly and put his weight behind it. cradling your head with one hand and your side with the other. You’re so pliant, so willing to let him kiss and take. You want him to take everything. arms around his neck.

He breaks apart, forehead resting against yours, heart beating so quick that he can feel it in his palms. Pupiles blown when he blinks. “If you take what you need, and I take what I need- Can we-“

Your hands thread hard in his hair. Tugging him back to your lips. Closer and closer. “Fuck Yes- please-“

You don’t know where the wanting comes from, why it’s raging through you like a fire. His lips move against yours frantic, you bite his lip and he jerks. Hovering over you with your back against the nest, all tingly and fizzy. Your bones feel like champagne popping, like shooting stars burning out.

Hobi’s hands shake when they touch your hips, just like yours do when you mirror him, your touches shy but just as hungry, tugging up his shirt, fingertips and nails pressing bluntly to his happy trail of fine dark hair. You can feel the way his cock jumps against your stomach and thigh when you scratch gently.

You pull back a little and sit up and it’s sacred; the way that he panics, scrambling to hold onto you. You're A little bit shy when you take off his sweatshirt, nothing underneath. hair fluffing when you get it free from the cotton.

Your bare skin and the cold room. You get goosebumps on your arms almost instantly when they cross over your bare chest. Hobi’s breath stutters in his chest, like roman candles flare and settle. Hobi takes his sweatshirt from you and sets it aside in his haste to hold you again.

He starts to tugs his pants down, getting tangled because he won't even pull back an inch from you. You kiss his throat, again and again making up for lost time. Sucking a mark there. His hands fumble with the waistband of his tied tight grey sweatpants. finding the loops and then freeze when he feels wetness. Pulling back and looking down just to make sure that that is what he thinks it is. you stop your kissing and look too.

There is a wet spot, darkening the grey material. Your slick from your grinding, the spot where you got so worked up and felt so good that you couldn't even help it. He pulls back so that the light can kiss it but yeah that's definitely from you. Evidence of how much you want this. Evidence of how much you want him.

Hoseok thinks you might have actually set his body on fire. Is about ready to start checking your fingers for matches.

You blush so hot that you think you might be burning in embarrassment. Hands between your legs, clutching at the material of the nest, so embarrassed you can't watch as Hoseok looks down at it and then up at you.

“I’m sorry I- I can’t help it- I'm always-“

Hobi’s hands smooth over the wet patch, splaying up to cradle his cock where you’ve left your mark. And he looks at you, jaw rolling and eyes dark. He doesn’t say anything. Can’t.

It’s hasty how you both move to take his pants off, and he kicks them to some forgotten corner of the nest, his boxers pulled off too, and then clings to you. You cling to each other. Kissing again. Hands knotting through his hair and tugging.

You glance down and oh- Hobi has such a pretty cock. the prettiest in the pack maybe (don't tell Tae), Flushed at the tip, hair neatly trimmed and curving up.

Your bare thighs press to his adds a whole new level to this, the skin there is sensitive and unknown. Lying thigh to thigh somehow feels more intimate than chest to chest as you lie the way lovers do, your leg, his, then yours again.

You’re damp between your legs when he touches, hands shaking. He doesn't bother to take off your shorts just tugs the soaked bit of fabric to the side. It’s been a long time since he’s touched a pussy but he knows enough to do it gently. Petting over your folds like he’s teasing a flower to bloom and opening a rose for a bouquet.

“Please” you gasp, hand vicelike around his wrist. Kissing his frantic pulse again. Hot lips and a cold nose drag down his throat. You hiccup as the pads of his fingers find your clit, shaking against him. "Please-"

But you don’t need to ask, you don’t need to beg. Whatever you need Hobi will give it to you. Your hands scratch as his back when he presses close, snaking underneath his sweatshirt. Breath heavy.

He kisses your neck and bites it when his length brushes the wetness between your thighs. Hot and honey slick. his hips press to your hips, harsh lines of his thighs pointing low that you like. There is so much about Hobi that you like; the way that he kisses, the way that he touches. oh- it’s better than you imagined.

His knuckles are glossy with your slick when he curls them against the nest, holding himself up.

Hobi bends down to skim a kiss across your neck, your collarbones, your sternum.

You laugh, your giggle high and bright. He has to pull back, not upset at all but wanting to laugh too, giggling too. “Why are you?”

Your smile means everything to him. “Your hair tickles.” It is kind of fluffy, kind of pulled everywhere from your kissing and you run your fingers through it, scratching a little around the nape of his neck, and Hobi is done playing.

He pulls back, already dripping a bit of precum, silvery and pearl like at the head of his cock, standing against his stomach. a little hidden because he's still wearing his sweatshirt. Checking because he can’t not check.

“Is this- can I- fuck are you-“

“Daisy, please-“ Oh, how that pet name unhinges him.

He won't make you wait another second for it, hands shaking as he holds your hip. Shushing your needy whimpers with a soothing alpha rumble as he guides his cock close. Giving you what you both need.

Hoseok is not as big as Namjoon or Tae or Jimin, but he’s properly thick. Not the kind of thickness that knocks the breath out of you but the kind that fits just right. Not enough to make you ache or hurt even a little. It doesn’t hurt at all when he eases in slowly.

It doesn’t hurt at all.

That might be because of how soaked you are; dripping messy underneath the warm humidity of the blanket. The visual of your glossy pussy robbed from him but unimportant as Hobi stares at your face, resting his head against your forehead. Watching your eyes dilate and eyelashes flutter. “There we go- fuck-”

It’s not worth pulling back to separate how close you are. How good it feels to press his chest to your chest, not even a single inch separating you. His kisses go gentle and messy, moving against yours in a gentle rhythm just like his hips after he gives you a second to grow used to it. Rocking just a little.

Hoseok has heard the others talk about your pussy, those moments that he tried to block out at the beginning and then started to file away once loving you got more real. But for everything he's heard from his packmates, nothing compares to the reality.

The closeness. The way your hips fit. The hot- too much- clench around him.

He understands a little maybe, fully buried in you for the first time, why they talk about it so much. Why Jungkook had slipped it into dirty talk a few times with Namjoon and why it had made him growl and cum so quick. Why Tae had teased Yoongi for hogging you.

Your pussy feels like an inside joke in all the best ways, the kind of inside jokes that always have you feeling both known and loved. You can’t remember what you used to laugh about when you were a teenager and if asked Hoseok would fail to describe why sex with you feels so full. Why it feels like highlights and golden ages, the golden hour drenching you. It’s not sex for pleasure’s sake and it's not sex for closeness's sake either- although that’s part of it.

It’s not sex at all, it's making love. With Hobi, it’s making love from the beginning.

It's not instincts and mating bond urges. It’s not one submissive giving to a dominant. It’s not about protection and safety even though that's there or because you're an omega and he's an alpha. Because he's a man and you're a woman.

It's just love, that's it.

And it doesn’t hurt at all. For either of you.

The eye contact is never ending, his warm and fucked out the more he rocks. Gentle at first and building up frantic. Hobi doesn’t fuck like the rest of the pack does either; he doesn’t speak, letting out these quiet heavy breaths and shushing your squeaks with soothing alpha grumbles. His thumb wiping away the few overwhelmed tears that slip out and a smile swallowing your hiccuping breaths.

"Fuck” he breathes, moving his hips a little faster. His stomach presses to yours damp and tacky with sweat. Hoseok’s doesn't fuck in and out all the way, hardly moving away from you at all. Just rocking in deep.

Hobi doesn’t stop hitting every spot, comfortable with these unending rocks of his hips, maddening in the way that he never stops filling you. Never pulls out even half way.

Your hands weakly clench in the blankets of the nest as he twitches right there. That sensitive spot inside of you that feels like courting ecstasy when he nudges it. It’s the same spot that Yoongi likes to tease at, the spot that only his long fingers can reach properly and Tae’s too when she’s really trying. Ghosting over it and petting at it until you’re mad with pleasure.

But Hobi doesn’t tease, Hobi just gives. rubbing against it again and again with every gentle roll of his hips.

you put your hand over your mouth to quiet your whimpers when he pulls back, sitting up just a little. Holding your waist and forcing your body further down on his cock, nudging it as deep as it can go and you sob.

Hobi grins, a little cocky, a little pleased that despite his size compared to the others you're still equally as wrecked.

“Right there yeah?” he teases, and then rocks against it again. thumbs pressing against your stomach where he cradles you. waist so tiny that they almost meet when he holds you.

Your cheeks are hot, and you have to turn and whimper into the pillow. he lets you shift so that you're belly down in the nest and he's behind you glued to your backside. lying his weight down behind you like a blanket. pressing you into the nest where you'll stay like a good pup.

Hoseok instincts are absolutely purring. omega, getting bred in such a pretty nest. Good warm soft omega.

Your hand laces with the blanket, needing something to hold onto and he kisses the back of your neck, treading your hands together as he keeps going. This new position lets him rock in even deeper, putting his weight behind it.

“If you keep going, I’m not gonna be able to-”

His breath ghosts your ear, lips dragging down the column of your throat to nip and suck gently at your scent gland, marking you there. his hand presses, holding you to the bed as he rocks harder. His barely formed knot already inside and growing, getting you closer and closer as it thickens. Keeping him right there at the spot and you on the edge. You're so wet it's making noises, soaking and dripping down his cock.

He kisses your mating mark, nipping at it, and you’re gone.

You cum, a wet gush around his knot and a broken whimper. a growl in his throat sounds loud in the empty house. It sounds like made mate happy, made omega cum for me. Hoseok's Alpha is absolutely preening watching your Legs shake, the nape of your neck sweaty, body slack and head tilting to bear your neck. both of your bodies messy from it, filthy and blushing with love.

Hobi’s not far behind, rocking another time, a third, a quiet satisfied breath into the back of your neck before his knot pops locking you together as he cums so gently. No growls or gasps, just hot spurts that fill and satisfy you. Knot popping and Locking you so close you can feel his cock pulse. So close you can feel the same heartbeat on his lips when kisses you, hurried kisses pressed to the nape of your neck that quickly go slack with sleep.

Your hand settles across your stomach, and oh- you realize why hobi wasn't bothered by how wet he got you earlier. He just keeps cuming, so much that it's leaking a little around his knot. You're not sure that Jimin or Tae or Yoongi cum this much, Namjoon definitely does- but thats kinda proportional.

he just keeps going, heat flooding you. Maybe he's only cumming so much because it's the first time, and he needs to claim you from the inside out. you're a little too dizzy to figure it out.

You feel like you might pass out. You don't know if it's squirt or cum or just sweat when he lies himself over you. cuddling closer despite the mess. Teeth at your bared throat, Sucking softly, Soothing.

instincts are kind of embarrassing at best, irrationally hot at worse. you squirm a little closer so that his knot goes deeper.

The sunlight spills across your cuddled forms, still underneath the big thick blanket. He doesn’t pull out, the knot keeping him snug tight. His hand is on your cheek, rubbing up and down your jaw. He pulls the blanket up around you. And neither of you says a word as your rapid breathing calms.

You’re not sure who falls back asleep first. Only that he wraps his arm around you and pulls you back on top of his chest, cuddled there. Knot warm and safe inside of you.

knotted together like this, you're finally finally close enough.

~-~

When Hobi wakes you’re watching him and his dick is out. Wet and slick and cold.

That would certainly cause him to be alarmed if it wasn’t for your expression; a little pale. Hands between your legs and looking at the doorway.

You just really don't want to drip cum onto the couch, like- obviously. Hobi didn't hurt you. But the brief terror at waking up uncuddled and so suddenly douses Hobi like a bucket of cold water.

The cold might be the actual reason for his sudden wakefulness. The wintry air in the room is jarring because the house is finally heating up. (as much to do with the heating system doing its job as it is with your activities earlier that turned the windows all hazy with condensation).

It's like someone had just come in and then abruptly left again. Your cheeks are pink, and there is a cloth on the side of the couch, folded and warm. You didn't get it for yourself.

“Don’t freak out, but Yoongi and the others walked in while you were asleep.”

You’re kind of glad that he wasn’t awake to see your mate barely contain his screech, jumping up and down with Jungkook in the entryway. Namjoon’s subtly grinning expression when he took in your appearance and paused in the cold doorway breathing in deeply. Tae wrapped around one arm; their walk interrupted by his return from surgery.

He groans, barely awake enough to think about the visual that Yoongi and the others were treated to. The consequences are better than a shot of expresso at wakeing him up.

But really, was there ever a possibility that the others wouldn’t find out about this? Does Hoseok even want them not to know?

He's too tired, too think about this logically.

Hoseok wonders why he didn’t wake to you holding him. He’s seen you hold the others, hold Namjoon in the morning when you smell like him. The way you wake slowly and run your fingers through their hair. The other alphas have a habit of cuddling up to rest their head against your chest. Hobi remembers that day by the beach when you pet his hair, he wants you to do that now.

But he can't fucking ask. Asking you to cuddle him would be fucking embarrassing.

“Shit." He shakes off his neediness and easily locates his boxers in the mess of the nest because they're bright red. Surreptitiously tucking his now soft and deflated knot back inside. You look away, letting him have that moment of privacy without comment. Your arms curl around your chest, you’re still nude from the waist up. thighs clenched togeather.

“Yeah uhm, they went back out to like- give us some space.”

"Did they say anything?"

You look away, wiggling over to the edge of the nest. "No. But they looked like they wanted to say a whole lot.”

You definitely don’t say that you heard their scuffle, Namjoon and Tae using their alpha privileges to wrangle an overly excited Yoongi and Jungkook. or that both of them had come back inside, both with pink cheeks smelling sweet at the sight of Hobi’s face pressed to your neck and the fresh hickeys at your throat.

(Hobi’s hickeys are always so small and cute. Tae can’t wait to take a picture and save it, for memory's sake. She’s half tempted to take out her phone and snap a picture of the two of you now.)

Your hiss of “Don’t say anything, I swear to fucking god if you wake him-" cured her of any bad ideas and had Namjoon grinning, his dimples showing.

Yoongi’s finger pressed to his lips in the doorway. Smiling wide and showing his gums. Omegas do get awfully protective over alphas in their nests. Especially post-knotting.

You’re honestly a little surprised that their muted shouting hadn’t woken Hobi. The closed door had kept out the cold but not the sound of them discussing on the porch; mostly Tae's insistence that they needed to get out of the house for lunch instead of heading back inside.

“But what if they need aftercare?”

"We shouldn’t leave them alone and unprotected.” (Classic Joonie).

“Yeah! What if they need cleaning!”

Yoongi snorts, “Gross Jk- I’m pretty sure the last thing they want is you licking up Hobi’s cum.”

“But he always likes it when it’s Jinnie-" that had your face and body heating (although that could just be Hobi- a literal furnace that he is wrapped around you).

Now his warmth is on the other side of the nest yet it feels impossibly farther away. As you both stew in silence under the weight of what you’ve done, what you just did.

Everything feels quiet and scary as you put yourselves back together in silence. You use the wet washcloth to keep yourself from dripping all over the couch while he looks for his pants in the mess of blanekts that smell like sex.

Thoughts like shit shit shit and what have you done ping-ponging back and forth across his brain. Mind bouncing between unlikely personal regrets and likely female rejection (of which he is only too familiar with).

Hobi doesn't like feeling rejected, it always brings up bad memories. He didn't wake up to you holding him. Is that a rejection or is his brain just making it up? People always hold each other after sex. Don't they?

You reach for his sweatshirt but before you can touch it a growl bursts forth from his throat and you freeze.

Hoseok scrubs a hand across his eyes, trying to wipe away the memories fitfully. Maybe it’s just because of the fact that he woke up and you weren’t wrapped around him. He's going to have to cuddle you himself if he wants it right now.

This first time with you reminds him of other first time's that didn’t end well. He's sorry for it the second it slips past his lips.

“Sorry, I don’t know why I just- my fucking instincts feel like they're on fire."

“So can I…?” you trail off. Your skin has goosebumps again. And Hoseok doesn’t know if it’s the casual nakedness that has him feeling so unmoored. A blush trailing its way up the back of his neck even though it shouldn’t be weird. He saw you shirtless every other hour during Namjoon’s rut for Christ’s sake.

“Yeah, just wear it- please wear it.” He can’t take back his growl, but he can meditate by watching you pick it up and hug it to your chest. Looking at him for a second as if to check that it’s still alright and he’s not going to snap at you again.

There is a hickey on your shoulder, the spot where it meets your arm. Hobi doesn’t know if it’s from him or someone else. It's a little too red to not be new. You don’t look uncomfortable being nude in front of him.

If anything, you look a little bit glowy.

You look at him and then pull it over your head. His cheeks still heating stubbornly as your chest moves a little, jiggling.

Why do girls have to just- girl all the time- it's honestly a little unfair how much hobi blushed.

He watches you, sitting on the edge of the bed in nothing but his boxers as you stand up pulling the sweatshirt down your hips. He stares at you until you ask a little flustered by hiding it, “What?”

He tugs on the hem of his sweatshirt, slowly, carefully, leaning forward as he tugs on one of the strings with his teeth. His hands go to your waist pulling you close gently, half sure of himself and half afraid. Hoseok is always somehow half afraid. Is this allowed? Is this wanted?

He rests his head against your stomach, loosely twining his arms around your waist to pull you closer, still loose enough that you can step away if you want. All of this can stop if you don’t want it. He hopes you know that.

Hoseok looks down at your feet, not at your face. “I love it when you wear my clothes. I really don't know where that came from.”

“Careful,” you say, a grin in your voice. Your tone light because you don't want him to smell so sour again. “I’m gonna go for your pants next.”

You snatch his from the floor and dart away. Nothing excites an alpha’s instincts like a chase, and Hobi feels the fire light down his spine. His movements are a hunt-heavy blur. Brain honed in on you.

He catches you by the counter, your giggle echoing off the high ceilings. His blood heating again as he drags you by your hips and flops down into one of the bar stools, sitting you on top of him with a growl.

His hands grip hard around your waist, determined until he’s shy. Letting you go softly, “Sorry I just-”

“Instincts still? Don't worry I get it.” You give him his pants and sit up off his lap so that he can put them on. And now is not the time to get another boner Hobi- but it’s kind of hard not to when you smell so bred, so wholly satisfied.

Hobi did that. Hobi's the one who made you look like this drowning in the afterglow.

Your own instincts are telling you that you want to take the blankets from the couch and drag them upstairs, and tuck them in around the scents of the others. So that they can all see and smell how good you made your alpha feel.

Hoseok’s pleasure leaves an undercurrent to the air that’s intoxicating. Half sugar-sweet and musky alpha. Your body hums with it as he steps up close behind you, close enough you can feel his warmth and not his body, nose skimming the bruise he left close to your mating mark. Letting out a tired sigh.

You did just work off a lot of energy, regardless of the half-nappy half-cuddle fucking that just was; It's also left you fucking hungry.

As much as the kitchen has been a place of anxiety for you it really isn’t with Hobi there. There is still that tape line on the floor that guards you off from the stove, sink, and the fridge. Hobi steps out from behind you and goes to the fridge, getting out some of the prepped fruit that Yoongi almost always keeps on hand.

But you keep looking at the kitchen, the pans hanging above the sink, your mixer sitting dusty in the corner. The hanging mugs. Everything.

He brings it to you, setting it down in front of where you sit. instincts making his eyes fever bright. He watches a little too intently as you lift a raspberry to your mouth. Something about watching you eat cools his instincts, making him release a taught breath.

He watches as you lift another piece, a blackberry to your lips and bite down. Almost purring, too afraid of what might slip out if he speaks. He half wants to do it himself and feed you from his fingertips. But that’s a little too embarrassing to consider.

A minute later, after you’ve eaten half a dozen more pieces, he reaches past you, about to get a piece of peach. He doesn't think anything of it, but when he reaches past your face- you flinch.

It happens so quick that he almost doesn’t even catch it. One second your cheek is turned straight and the next your eyes are darting from him to the bowl. Scent souring with fear and memories from Geumjae.

Fuck. (No cuz actually- fuck Geumjae.)

You don’t look at him with fear, you just look at him with a strange sort of sadness in your eyes. Sorry. Like you’re sorry for being scared. hoseok's hand goes tight on the counter.

"I'm sorry."

Hobi sits down. Holds your hands in his, and waits for a second before he speaks. makes his words quiet and gentle because anger at someone dead and gone has no place here.

“I’m not going to hurt you.” You have nice hands, warm where they press into his. And he cradles them, your knuckles flexing vaguely in his grasp, gentle but commanding.

“You’ll try not to, you mean."

You smile at him sadly. Hobi’s chest is tight with it. He needs you to know how much he means those words. How much he needs to mean them. But you both know how hard it is to promise that.

"No. I mean I’m not going to hurt you. Ever.” He repeats. You smile at him sadly again. And he knows his brief anger earlier when you touched his sweatshirt- usually such a normal thing for you- didn't escape you at all. But grief and mourning and memory always finds you at the worst times; after first times and on sunny winter afternoons.

The two of you are a mess, bodies teeming with the memories of failed loves, lost and broken. But you can ignore your triggers; such innocuous things as you wearing his sweatshirt and him reaching past your face. You can ignore your memories; the wretched and rotten ones, just for today.

You let the heavy moment pass and look at the other side of the kitchen. Hobi’s chest feels tight with something. Something that he needs to say but can’t just yet. You can only tell someone you love them for the first time once. You don’t get a second chance.

Hobi just wants to get it right.

You’re looking at the kitchen that Yoongi made for you, holding his hand still. using the other to feed yourself more fruit.

(Is there anything more intimate than holding hands with someone? It feels like more than the pads and lines of his fingers are pressed to yours. soul to soul and palm to palm. The future is written out right there but you ignore it. Love line, health line, fate. But the two of you are dedicated to writing your own end. Your love line is exactly the same length as his, not a millimeter longer).

Hoseok’s chest is still all tight. “What are you thinking about?”

“I haven’t made anything in months.” You sigh, sad. “I want to. I used to love baking, I used to-” you break off, sorrow making you quiet.

Hobi’s eyes are fixed on your shoulder. There are freckles there. He’s not sure why he’s never noticed them before or that you’ve got them dotting your back.

Hobi swallows past something in his throat. Pushing you gently from your chair until you're standing next to him. Cupping your waist because now that he's started touching you it's hard to stop. Now that he knows he’s allowed to touch you so casually, so affectionately, he going to keep doing it.

“Go. I’ll watch you, make sure you stay safe.” Because that’s the rule, isn’t it? Not that you can’t be in the kitchen at all, just that you need someone there to keep you safe.

The words feel tight in his throat, not easily said. I love you. He thinks as he watches you move to the mixer with a small but pretty smile that looks like daisies have taken root on your skin, everything sweet and flowering.

I love you. He thinks as he watches you get your cookbook from behind the mixer. I love you he thinks when he watches you place a mug from that morning in the sink. I love you he thinks as you get the sugar, the vanilla, the salt. He has to get up and get the flour for you, unwilling to have your arms strain underneath the heavy container, doting on you just because he can.

Just because he wants to, just because he loves you.

The shadow of what’s left on the bag hits his dark clothes like a ghostly outline when he holds it. The flour is a bit like you; everywhere he touches it leaves an impression. The rainbows from his suncatcher you put in the kitchen shift with the angle of the sunlight, winking out one by one as dusk falls.

He sits at the kitchen island and watches as you hum and flick through your recipe book. Golden hour fades to orange and pink the same way that roses fade.

He’s not sure why he blurts it out, why he asks, “What’s your favorite?”

You look up from your cookbook, everything is set out but still, the recipe is undecided. “What?”

Hobi can not look at you for this, instead looks at the kitchen island and the old butcher block countertop. Fingers toying along the edge where a knife left a gash.

“You always make everyone else’s favorites; Namjoon’s honey cakes, coffee-flavored things for Jin, the vegan stuff for Jungkook you know- but-” his eyes flick up to you in a moment of bravery. “What’s yours? What's your favorite?”

You think for a moment, a kitchen apart, fingers tapping on the countertop and Hobi can’t take his eyes off of you. His body feels a little achy but in that ‘was just fucked good’ sort of way that makes his breath deeper. Quieting some alpha part of him that always wants a little more. A little more scenting, a little more validation, a little more attention.

But everything can wait.

“My favorite thing to eat or my favorite thing to make?”

“Both. Either.” You glance at the clock. Going to the pantry for a second to double-check that you have everything you'll need. “I’ll have to make some of it from scratch but-" you look at him. “Do you have time?”

Hobi nods. “As long as you need.”

Hobi watches as you measure out the flour and sift it. Hobi watches as you wait for the eggs to get to room temperature and fucks with the playlist. His phone will eventually get splashed with coco but- it’s okay.

All of this is okay, all of this is I love you I love you I love you and I don’t know what to do with all of it, can you take someone it, please. I don’t have enough space in my body to hold all of it. Hoseok doesn’t speak for how sheer the impulse is just to blurt it out.

The yellow plastic mixing bowl keeps clattering against the counter as you stir the egg yolks until they froth up and fizz. Pouting you turn your eyes to him. “Can you help?”

Hoseok has to swallow back the words before they slip past. Hopping up a little too quickly. “Yeah of course.”

You don’t tell him what you’re making, let him guess. So many of your recipes need egg whites and vanilla. You let him put it together on his own. Hobi doesn’t peek at your recipe book and spoil the surprise.

Every action, every spoonful of sugar is I love you too, just say it. You don’t talk about the sex you just had and you don’t say I love you to him. You wait for him to say it first. You don’t say a thing besides; “Just a half teaspoon of that; drizzle it a little at a time, or else it clumps together. Good.” Hobi’s cheeks heat with every bit of praise and you have a lot of it for him.

Hobi looks away when you look up from the bowl, oh so carefully folding the batter and egg whites together. So gently that the hiss and bubble of whipped egg yolks disintegrating is hardly audible.

Hobi hasn’t baked since he was a kid; since he got into his head that chocolate chip cookies were totally something that an eight-year-old should be able to make on their own without adult supervision and almost burned his parents’ apartment to the ground. He tells you the story and you laugh.

He can tell that you’re making adjustments as you go. Adding in a bit of cinnamon, piping off the cookies in neat little lines, and then tapping them oh so carefully to get rid of the bubbles.

The stove preheats and then the tray goes in, filling the room with your scent. That cakey baking aroma that has him resting his head back against the cabinets when you sit on the floor and greedily breathing in.

You wait the 30 minutes like that, sitting on the floor between the cabinets and stove. Your feet pressed to his knees and a glass of lemonade between the two of you.

“You really like baking,” he says, and your eyelashes flutter, you must be getting tired. He takes your feet into his lap, using his hand to massage up your calf. Smiling when you sigh.

“Yeah, it makes me feel- I don’t know. I like making the world sweeter, just a little. Even if it’s just my little corner of it. Making things you guys like makes me happy too.”

“You know, you could go to culinary school if you wanted.” Hobi gets a little shy because you hadn’t explicitly told Jin and Namjoon not to tell anyone about your plans or your application (still pending). It will be a few more weeks until you find out, but that change is just on the horizon.

He's already seen Jimin perusing expensive leather bookbags and has overseen a recommendation letter coming from Namjoon’s email. Hobi might have read it for him to double-check because Hobi always notices things the others might gloss over. Jin and Tae had given it proof read too.

You make a noise in your throat, halfway between a hum in approval and a hum in distaste. “I don’t know, it seems like- a lot to do for a hobby.”

Hobi and you are the only two in the pack who wanted to go to college but didn’t. Couldn’t in your case because Geumjae wouldn’t let you and flunked out in his. He gets the lack of clarity in your voice; to go back or not go back. To try again or not try at all and not worry about whether or not you’re enough.

“I already started applying anyway. Namjoon and Jin and Tae put a lot of effort into helping me apply and-” You let out a frustrated sigh.

Hobi shakes his head, “Doesn’t matter. You can change your mind.” There is always time. You tap your toes against his shins and he grabs your feet and you jerk, ticklish. And he almost almost gives in to the urge to tell you he loves you right then and there.

“But could you be happy? Doing this all the time?” You turn, putting your hand over your eyes to peer into the oven and make sure that the ladyfingers are rising properly. “Doing it every day? Would it make you happy?”

You pause, hand on the door before replying in a small voice. “Yeah, maybe. Maybe I could be happy.”

You stand with a crack of your knees, sticking out your hand for Hobi and almost falling into him when he truly uses your hand to help himself up.

“Come on, we’ve got to make the whipped cream next-”

It goes like that, you both talking, and Hobi fucking with the playlist. Thinking three little words and not saying them.

You let the ladyfingers cool for a few minutes while you make the expresso. Dunking them in quickly. Piping out the honey-flavored whipped cream in sticky little dollops. Shaking out the cocoa with a practiced hand.

You make the caramel for the top last. Sugar-burning, glass-like little strands on top for a bit of crunch.

The tiramisu is a delicate creation, the layers perfectly spaced out in just the right ratio of cream to chocolate. You let it sit for a second in the fridge and when you take it out, you cut it into a single perfect little square and put it on a plate for him. Treading over the blue painter’s tape line and lingering by him where he sits.

“Try it.” You ask and he does obediently.

Hobi takes a bite of it, rolling the flavors around his tongue while you watch. You haven’t cut a piece for yourself just yet, but you have a fork. You stand on the other side of the kitchen island and take a bite from the other corner of the pan, humming happily when the taste hits your tongue.

It really is your favorite. You grin at the plate, “I could finish this whole thing in one sitting.”

Hobi takes another bite. It’s really good, the flavors are simple but delicate, each of them identifiable but yet cohesive. He could eat all of it too.

Hoseok swallows and realizes why it's your favorite; It tastes like all of you- like the pack.

The honey whipped cream is Jin and Jungkook, and the chocolate cocoa on top is your mate; dark chocolate like an Oreo cookie. Hobi thinks it might not be normal cocoa. The homemade ladyfingers are soaked through with Namjoon's coffee and the cake itself is a delicate dance of Tae’s cinnamon, Jimin’s vanilla, and your scent too. Buttery and yummy.

He's finished half of what's on his plate before he realizes that you added the crunchy layer on top, the caramel too.

That’s Hobi isn’t it? The Burnt sugar sweetness. He knows that’s not typical but still, you added in anyway. The smell of caramel is thick in the air. Sweet sweet sweet. Hobi always smells the sweetest when he’s falling in love.

The tiramisu tastes like the whole pack. Like love soaked threw. Hobi’s heart and body is full of it.

He thinks this might be his favorite too.

Hobi tries to blink back the wetness, really tries not to cry as he takes another big bite. He gets a little bit of whipped cream on his lip, licking it and sniffling. You pause, a bite hovering between the plate and your mouth before you set down your fork with a clink.

“Oh Hobi”

The space between you is nothing more than air as you quickly head around the kitchen island. You cup both of his cheeks and he sags into the touch, hands instantly going over yours to keep them there. Tears spilling warm and unabated down his cheeks.

Hobi decides right then he is beyond pretending that he doesn’t want it, that he doesn’t want you. Wet cheeks and imploring eyes.

“Oh Hoseok, what’s wrong?”

You’re standing between his legs and your collarbone rests against his cheek. Your hand runs through his hair and his heart pulses hard.

"I didn’t mean to make you cry. If this is because-” you trail off. You don’t say that you shouldn’t have had sex earlier because you can’t find it in yourself to regret this even a little bit. But you are sorry for not doing it in a way that didn't make him cry. If that's why he's crying.

“No it’s not that. I just-" Hoseok can hardly speak his mouth is so full of love that it bursts from him before he has a chance to think it through. Sobbing a little as he says it;

"I'm crying because I love you and I don’t know how to tell you.”

Hobi stutters and your hands on his cheeks go firm for a second before they relax. “I love you; I love being around you, I love that you're my best friend and that i get to love you too. I love living in this house with you. I’m crying because for the first time I get it-”

He can’t stop the confession now that it's started, and if he'd just open his eyes he'd get to see your smile but they're screwed shut tight.

“I get it, I get why once Yoongi met you, he couldn’t leave. I understand why he brought you back to us. But-” he hiccups and you giggle a little at the sound. His eyes shoot open and he realizes that you're crying too- that you haven't stepped away. You wipe away his tears with your thumbs and grin down at him.

“I'm so fucking afraid too- I can’t help but feel like the way we started just- fucked everything up. I fucked everything up back then by being jealous. I look at you and I’m scared I’ll fuck this up.”

You hold his face in your hands and think; I will be gentle with you, I will be gentle with you even if it kills me. You have never loved someone broken like you, and you know how easy it is to make a wrong step. But you’re sure when you say the words anyway.

“You won’t.”

“But-” you kiss his hands, knuckles, fingertips. His forehead, his lips Everything. Your eyes are focused and Hobi can’t look away.

“You won’t, you promised not to hurt me and you won’t.”

He falls silent, and you pull him in close. His lips still tingle from your kiss and you kiss him again, long and lingering, hard with the force of your conviction. It tastes like tiramisu.

When you break apart, Hoseok rests his ear on your heart and listens.

You should say I love you back, you really should return the words. But you think there will be other moments to say them. You'll say it when you wake up with him tomorrow morning, you'll say it when you fall asleep tonight curled close to him. There will be more time to say them- during a late-night drives when you look over at him in the dark. There are always going to be more times to say it and you’ll say it and mean it every time.

Unfortunately, life isn't so neat and tidy.

You wipe his cheeks and he wipes yours and you both giggle, leaning into each other. You get him a tissue for his nose and start laughing all over again. Being with Hobi will always be like this, half your lover and half your best friend.

“Do you want to go on a drive later, only,” you wipe tears from your own eyes, “want to take the others this time?”

He smiles, “That’s the best idea you’ve ever had.”

He tries to pull you in for another kiss but you feed him a bite of tiramisu instead and it gets half on his cheek, “finish your cake alpha,” you command, and Hobi is perilous to disobey. the next bite you take ends up on your cheek too because he tickles you, and you blush when he leans forward to lick it off your cheek. All giggly and happy and close. You sat practically on the edge of the counter. Noodle meows and laps up some of it from the floor.

You don’t need to say I love you back, you already have. Hobi can taste it on the edge of every bite.

You cut him another piece and share it this time, and he can't stop looking at you, can't stop smiling.

You smile around a mouthful, "i'm gonna tear up that train ticket."

"Don't you fucking dare. We've gotta like- put it in a scrap book or something."

You clean up the tiramisu, thinking of what might happen when the pack gets back, thinking of how things will go now that you’ve settled this. They’ll be happy; all of you all together finally. This last piece of your little family finally falling into place.

Maybe it will go like this:

Maybe when the pack gets home, there will not just be tiramisu on the counter. Maybe there will be gluten-free lemon bars and honey cakes. Chocolate ginger cookies dusted with powdered sugar and freshly baked bread with cheese and garlic. Little personal cheesecakes that you made in a muffin tin dotted with jam preserve because now that you’ve started to bake again there might not be anything to stop you.

You already feel the urge in your hands, the urge to make things. You think it might have been learned from Yoongi.

Maybe they’ll come home with pizza, unsure if a party and alcohol is really the proper way to go about celebrating, but the cake from the bakery that Tae will buy as a joke, will have flowery lettering and “congrats for losing your Hobi-ginity"

It will make you laugh until your lungs ache like the fireworks have gone off. Will make him blush and rub the back of his neck in shyness.

When they come home there might be a few sly comments but the pack knows when to tease and when not to. Maybe Namjoon will take a hearty sniff at Hoseok’s throat, dragging it up and down the nape of his neck, huffing happily. (Namjoon has always been a little bit possessive of Hoseok the same way Jin has always been possessive of you, but that's pack alpha's for you).

Tae will tuck your hair behind your ears to get a better look at the mark he left on your throat, manicured fingers gently stroking over it. and Yoongi will shoot him a challenging look and drawl, "really daisy? is this really something you wanna start?" all playful. the way yoongi only gets when he's really really happy.

And when Jin gets home, Maybe he’ll drag you over his lap with some squirming because there is no avoiding this hole check. Not when Jin and the others have been waiting.

Under the hungry eyes of the rest of the pack, you would still squirm. Your mate watching and grinning as he nibbles a piece of pizza and just watches as Jin pulls your sleep shorts down to your knees. Leaving them there to pin your thighs together. Hand against the small of your back to keep you still.

Of course, the pack omega has to look after the two of you and make sure the lowest on the hierarchy is being safe without a stronger presence nearby. But your entrance is pink fucked warm, not red and inflamed. Hoseok’s knot is the perfect thing to warm you up, and Jin tugs his sweatshirt over your hips to keep you warm as he examines you.

Fingers drag your entrance apart to show the others how good hobi did. Prompting them to touch and feel for themselves, all of their fingers teasing at your entrance and all of them touching you. Tae and Jungkook holding your thighs, Jimin and Namjoon resting their hands on your ass to help jin hold you open better and yoongi prodding to feel-

They'd want to see his cum slip out, forced from your hole by your needy clench. Of course, they'd just fuck it back inside because not a drop can go to waste. one set of fingers and then another, jungkook leaning down to taste.

Jin’s eyes would be all dark eyes and honey tones, looking hoseok up and down, cheeks as red as the sweatshirt you wear. His praise makes Hobi feel just a little bit too proud for his own good.

Hobi would probably get a knot-check for that, because if the alpha has something to be proud of then surely the others need to check his ego (and only in the way that hobi likes).

The alphas would scuffle with him a little, wrestling to settle him. Hobi's instincts are still fever bright and he needs to be put in his place. To feel the pack for what they are; very necessary safety bumpers.

He'd go so easily after a few nips- Jimin would help pull his pants down so Namjoon could get his big hands around him, fingers teasing at the red skin around his base and making Hobi growl and gasp. Pausing to cup lower and make sure Hoseok's empty, that he didn't hold back breeding you. Tae would tutt and make him open his mouth, her finger teasing along his teeth just for shits and giggles. Just to make him groan.

Nothing makes an alpha more proud than getting to show off his teeth.

Jin would smile at the display, and croon. “Good alpha.”

Maybe Jin will pat your pussy lips softly before pulling your pants up, making you flinch and then relax and jungkook would bend down to give Hoseok's knot a little kiss before standing.

The whole thing would take maybe 5 minutes but it would leave the whole pack ravenous for more. The final evidence of this finally happening; all of you together and not fragmented.

As you should be, together.

Maybe later, after treats and pizza, you'll all get to go to the beach like Hobi promised. Two separate cars. And Namjoon might let Hoseok and Jimin do donuts in the empty parking lot without too much fuss. The smell of tires and gasoline ripping.

Jungkook whooping and Yoongi watching on with his grin, Jin in the back seat with you going “Oh- oh hope- slow down” looking a little green. But terrorizing the pack omega is kind of your job.

It’s cold and late at night but you’ll tear out across the sand. Running to the shore. Tossing your shoes into the dark and toeing into the waves. Yelling happy.

You and Hobi will try and throw Yoongi into the water and then the other alphas will actually succeed in throwing Namjoon, pushing him until he inevitably tumbles into the seafoam. All 7 of you will try and wrangle Jungkook into the same wet fate and fail.

Jin will tuck Namjoon’s wet hair back behind his ear and grin at him, his grin saying the words they don’t need to. Kisses tases like secrets and salt but that much has not changed. Might never change when it comes to the eight of you. All the secrets in the world couldn’t keep you apart.

You’ll get zoomy in the way that dogs get in wide-open spaces. You’ll run. Your feet slapping against the sand, tossing spray into the air as high as your laughter, chasing after each other. A bunch of barefoot kids in too-big bodies and sand between your toes. Hands clasped tight in each other’s so that you won’t let go. You won’t ever let go now that you've found them.

For once you'll be absent of all the things that drag you down. Lighter than the warm air that billows over the sea. Mouths that store special secret salty smiles for the better. Damp fingers that curl against warm wrists. holding onto each other tight even though you’re running and running-

Running.

Maybe.

But that’s not what happens. Instead, what happens is this;

You are sitting at the kitchen counter when Hobi gets a text. It’s from Jungkook asking about the pizza types that you’d want and

Yoongi’s left his phone, he says with a little 👀 emoji. But he won’t truly tease the both of you until he gets home. Of course Yoongi was too distracted by you and Hobi post coitous to grab it from the other room.

you to to the pantry to put away the flour and this close- you can hear another phone ring from the bathroom. It's it yours? Only No, it's not your phone sitting on the counter, but Yoongi’s. Lighting up with Jin’s contact information.

JinJinJin: 5 missed calls.

It's so like your mate to leave his phone in such a random place. You smile as you pick up.

Jin is already talking a mile a minute. Fear and panic make his words come quick and desperate.

“Yoongi- why the fuck didn't you pick up" You don't have time to respond. Don't have time to let him know it's not your mate but you that picked up the phone.

"I don’t know how the fuck it happened, I don’t know- but-“ he’s almost shouting over the phone, such raw panic in his voice that it has your body going frozen.

Jin lets out a broken sobbing breath.

"I shot Minnie.”

~-~

Please Like, Comment, and Reblog <3 Every little bit of encouragement helps <3

Come tell me what you liked about this chapter!

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Notes:

I ended up editing out a good portion of Hoseok ’s inner monologue at the begining, because I realized that at that point in time with the other pack he wouldn’t have been thinking stuff about how terrible it was because it wasn’t terrible yet. i probably should have even edited it fluffier if we're being honest. i think that would have been more unsettling.

The line where she says “One second you're holding back and the next you're kissing him like he's Yoongi and he's kissing you like he's starving.” Is a little hard to explain, she’s not thinking about Yoongi in that moment but the person she associates the most with love is Yoongi so- yeah it made sense. I feel like this line might make people go a little like “what??”

I swear if you guys didn’t cry a little at the ‘It doesn’t hurt at all.’ Parts I’m not doing this right because I was SOBBING.

Listen, I almost edited out the line where he calls her pussy an inside joke so many times- but for me- when I was younger I always wanted to be a part of inside jokes because like- if you are that means you’ve got history with someone- Hoseok is thinking this because until this moment- he hasn’t been able to be apart of something that the rest of the pack had understood.

When Hoseok was leaving a hickey over her mating mark it’s his way of saying “this is mine too 😠” to Yoongi,

Honestly??? Why is Hobi so feral in this like- he’s a /little/ unhinged from how much he wants her and tbh it’s fair. Look away if you don’t wanna read him going APESHIT for her.

ALSO- I’m just imagining him on the walk with jungkook and Tae, cheeks slowly pinking up because he can feel that they’re having sex down the mating bond, maybe getting hard and the others noticing, both of them plastering themselves along his side and teasing him with words like “do you think he’s making her all wet and messy hyung? Do you think she’s gonna cream around his cock like she creams around yours?” and Yoongi just- endlessly suffering around the two horndogs that are Tae on estrogen and jungkook on a regular day.

The moment where they’re holding hands and it’s talking about palmistry is a refrence to noah kahan’s song everywhere everything and the line “it’s been a long year, in all of our books pages dog eared, we write out the ends on our palms dear, and forget to read.”

The worst worst worst part about this chapter is that I don’t??? have a fucking recipe for the tiramisu?? Like I’ve made it before but I’ve never made honey flavored whipped cream or put caramel on top 🥺 maybe I’ll test it out one dayand update this chapter

Okay so the ‘flash into the improbable future at the end is a little too horny for the end of smutt but I couldn’t just /not/ put it in there because you know how I love a good hole check scene.

do you hate me because of this cliffhanger? even i have to say its a little unforgivable.

please be patient for next chapter because i do not have A SINGLE fucking word written for it. like nada, we're starting from scratch come monday.

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Hobi's sex Playlist (jk isn't not a sex playlist)

Dominic fike- Mama's boy (hobis' flashback)

Mitski – my love mine all mine. (yoongi telling him to be good)

Lana del ray – chemtrails over the country club. (the sex)

Olivia Rodrigo – can’t catch me now (when they're both triggered from the respective abusive relationships)

Tom o’dell – black Friday. (Juz cuz)

[stiles-o-dylan24]

It's Always Been You Bonus Scene 1 - Wolfsbane Hallucination

Author: @stiles-o-dylan24 Pairing: Stiles x Addy McCall Word Count: 3.1k Requested: Can you maybe write something about Addy telling Stiles what she saw during the hallucinations in season 2 at Lydia's party and having a Staddy fluffy moment? I don't remember but I think after that moment it never brought up again and kinda always wanted to see how Stiles would react, if it's okay for you of course! And obv if you want to write it take your time, don't rush it! 💕 A/N: Here you go sweets, it's been forever and a day but hopefully you're still around and you enjoy this! I'm putting this as taking place at the end of season 4 so you have an idea of the timeline of everything! Any other deleted/bonus scenes you guys want please don't hesitate to send them in bc I'm fully on my IABY bullshit while I edit the whole series to be ready for binding. Love you all!🩵 IABY PLAYLIST || <<PREV || MASTERLIST  ||  NEXT>>  ||

Another day another Lydia birthday party is in full swing– which is already a better turnout than the impromptu lake house party a couple of months ago.

That night we found the deadpool list and now we’re back from Mexico and Lydia promised a gathering to make us celebrate the fact that we’re all alive.

Stiles and I are in the backyard and he’s leaning back against one of the beams attached to the overhead pergola while I lean my back against his chest. He’s got his arms wrapped around my shoulders and my hands are gently gripping onto his forearms. 

The party is more so taking place inside since it was raining earlier– which is how Stiles got me to come outside with him. I’ve got the smell of rain, the pergola fairy lights and best of all my Stiles… so I’m pretty happy right now. 

Stiles is silent though and I could think he was just enjoying the quiet with me while the thumping bass of the party sounds in the house behind us, if it weren’t for the noise he just made. The noise is one he makes when he’s thinking about something that’s bothering him and once that noise is followed by him kissing my temple and squeezing his arms around me a little more… I know it’s something about me.

I move my thumbs against his forearms a little, leaning my head back against his shoulder as I ask him “What are you thinking about?”

“Hmm? Oh, nothing” Stiles replies too quickly and I throw him a look “Come on, at least lie better than that”

“I can’t lie to you” Stiles chuckles softly and I nod once, turning in his arms to face him while I smile brightly at him “I know.” I set my hands on his chest and slowly slide them up to wrap my arms behind his neck, asking him “So then tell me what’s on your mind”

Stiles makes a noise and takes a deep breath, slowly releasing it as he sets his hands on my hips and pulls me a little closer ���Do yo– do you remember Lydia’s birthday party?”

“This one?” I laugh softly and he throws me a look “Obviously you remember this one or we have bigger problems right now concerning your memory, cutie.”

I snort and smile at him “Alright so not this one– which leaves last year because we’ve only been to two of her parties”

“Right,” he clears his throat, nodding his head ever so slightly and connecting his eyes with mine “So last year when we were all kinda…” he trails off and I nod once, my stomach dropping as I stand up a little more “Oh… umm yeah, the night of the wolfsbane” I smile softly at him, instantly hit with what I saw and really hoping he doesn't ask me about it. 

“The hallucinations, yeah” Stiles clarifies and I nod slowly, trying to smile like it’s no big deal while also imploring “What’s making you think about that night?”

Stiles doesn’t answer right away, just moves his thumbs against my sides as he moves his eyes between mine. He licks his lips quickly and tilts his head a little to the side “Well I was just thinking back… and I– well you never said what you saw that night… when I asked you what you hallucinated, you told me it didn’t matter, remember?”

“Because it didn’t” I say gently, smiling to soften the blow of my deflection, however, he just narrows his eyes in thought at me “Right but it does matter. What we all saw was something that we were deep down afraid of actually happening or being true so I’m just curious I guess… why do you say it doesn’t matter?”

“Sty, come on” I breathe out, looking around the backyard for an escape plan. I feel him keep his hold on me so I don’t step away from him as he asks me in a soft whisper “Was it your dad? I mean from how he was when we were kids?”

I look back at him, breathing in deeply and slowly releasing it as I barely shake my head and answer him softly, “No, it wasn’t about him.”

“Ok then what was it?” he questions gently, looking at me with so much love in his eyes. I can tell how much this means to him but I can’t shake the nerves and embarrassment of actually telling him what happened in my mind. I mean he saw his dad blaming him for his mom’s death and Scott saw Jacksanima hooking up with Allison on the stairs and I what? Had a phenomenal kiss and then ultimate whiplash as he said it would never be right? No way I can share that with the person I’m now dating. 

“Why are you remembering that night in particular right now?” I ask and he shrugs, looking around the backyard “We were standing basically right here with Scott that night. You looked…” he trails off, shaking his head and breathing out a soft huff before he connects his eyes with mine “Fuck, Adds, you looked gorgeous in that maroon lace dress and your black leather jacket.”

“You remember what I was wearing?” I say softly, my heart doing that little flutter thing that only Stiles can make happen and he makes a noise “Uh yeah I remember with vivid clarity the moment I walked into your house and I saw you. You made me stop breathing and I’m pretty sure I passed out because I think Scott hit my shoulder and said something but I couldn’t hear him and next thing I knew I was driving us to the party.” 

I chuckle softly, knowing my eyes are sparkling as I look up at him and he continues “I mean you always look amazing, Adds– but something about you looking all sexy badass that night…” he trails off, breathing in deeply as his fingers dig into my sides a little more and he pulls me against him “Yeah, I almost blurted out that I was in love with you.”

“You did not” I chuckle softly and he makes a face like I could not be more wrong, “Uh yeah I did, ask Scott– the way he looked at me was the only thing that made me not because it wasn’t the right time. I also wasn’t aware he knew at the time but either way we were drinking and that wouldn’t have been the right time– right?”

“No it wouldn’t have been the right time” I agree with him, scrunching my nose up a little as I continue “Especially since you’re right we were drinking and I fully thought you were going to say Lydia’s name and I drank even more because I couldn’t handle hearing your declaration of love about her again at that moment.”

Stiles snorts and looks up to the covered lighted up pergola above us, breathing out “Of course you thought that” he shakes his head and looks at me again “So you were drinking because of me being a dumbass–” 

“No, I was drinking because Lydia was being mind controlled by Peter and was sweetly forcing us all to drink spiked wolfsbane punch” I interrupt and he narrows his eyes at me “That may be why you took the first drink but I was the reason you drank more” I make a noise to argue, however, he just grips onto me a little more and doesn’t let me say another word as he rushes out “Which means you hallucinated what you did because of me which means you should tell me what you saw that night.”

“Why is this so important to you right now?” I ask, trying not to be defensive but I can’t help it when I’m just flooded with the memories of that night. “I mean,” I clear my throat and soften my voice, because even through the embarrassment taking hold on me I do know he’s just being his amazingly sweet self, “Why is it all of a sudden bothering you enough to want to know now?”

“It’s always bothered me, Adds,” he answers without missing a beat, his eyes so sincere I melt against him a little more while he continues “I’ve always wanted to know– since it happened to you.” His thumbs brush against my sides again, succeeding in lifting up my shirt so he’s touching my skin “The look on your face that night when I found you again has been burned in my brain. All I wanted to do was hug you and comfort you but you wouldn’t let me– I mean, you wouldn’t even look at me. Then fucking Matt almost drowned and we figured out he was the– you know, then the night and following days got crazy but that didn’t change the fact that I wanted to be there for you. Now I feel like I'm allowed to be there for you and comfort you even when you tell me nothing is bothering you– I’m allowed to be there for you in ways I wasn’t before and dammit woman, I want you to just let me.”

I chuckle and kiss him softly, “Okay” I murmur against his lips and he repeats “Okay? Like okay okay?”

I nod and pull back just enough to narrow my eyes playfully at him “Yes– okay as in I’ll tell you but after I do you have to drop it because half the reason I didn’t want to say anything was because I was embarrassed”

“Embarrassed?” Stiles scrunches his face up adorably and I throw him a look “Yes… now promise.”

“I promise after you tell me I will drop it” he repeats and I nod once “Thank you.”

Stiles kisses me quickly and says “Now tell me what you saw and were embarrassed about” he smiles wide “Please”

“Jesus you’re persistent” I grumble and he winks, his hands gripping onto me a little more “It’s why you love me”

I playfully glare at him, murmuring quietly “Yeah, yeah, yeah” and he gets impatient “Come on, tell me already”

“Oh for fucks sake” I throw him a look, and he smiles even wider at me. I chew on the inside of my cheek for a few seconds, taking a deep breath to try to calm my nerves before I rip off the bandaid and rush out quickly “I hallucinated that you kissed me.”

Stiles’ brows raise instantly with my words “I kissed you–” he licks his lips quickly “You hallucinated that I kissed you?” he repeats, a bright cocky smile starting to come over his features and I grimace since I have to tell him the next part “Well that’s not all so don’t get too cocky.”

“Oh my god was it a bad kiss?” he draws his brows in on his own embarrassed grimace “It was wasn’t it? Is that why you waited so long to actually kiss me?”

“Nope– it was a good” I release a shaky breath “A really good kiss actually.”

“Oh really?” he says, cocky smile back on his face and I narrow my eyes at him “Stop it”

“Sorry” he murmurs, half smiling as pulls me more against his chest “Tell me how it played out then.”

I look up at him, seeing the sincerity in his eyes and I breathe out nervously, shaking my head as I look away and focus on his chest “Well I was walking through the living room and you stalked towards me through the crowd of people with these deliberate I’d burn the world down for you steps until you set your hands on my hips and backed me against the wall… then you kissed me” I breathe in deeply, not really wanting to keep going “But then you…” I trail off quietly and Stiles’ voice is softer, more gentle as he asks even more quietly “Then what happened?” 

I squeeze my eyes closed and grimace “Just as quickly as you kissed me you stopped and when I opened my eyes, you were looking at me but the look on your face… it was like you–” I clear my throat, my voice barely above a whisper as I tell him “It was like you just made the biggest mistake of your life”

“Adds–” he tries but I shake my head and look at him sadly before I drop my eyes again and look at my hands on his chest “Then you said ‘You’re not her and that this isn’t right’ you dropped your hands from my sides and you stepped back throwing in the next gut punch of ‘This will never be right’ before you walked into the crowd of people in front of us. I went to follow you but then it was like I was thrown back into this reality and the music was suddenly blaring again and everyone was dancing not even paying attention to me.”

It’s silent after I finish telling him what happened and I want to disappear with explaining everything that I still unfortunately remember. Stiles takes a few more silent seconds before he murmurs “Hey” and I make a little noise to acknowledge him and he chuckles softly “Come on baby, show me your blues”

The corners of my mouth lift a little as I silently curse him for somehow always getting me to listen to him and I slowly look up at him. When my eyes connect with his I don’t see anything but reassurance and love looking right back at me “You do realize that you never have to worry about what was said being true right? You have and will always be the only her in my mind– there will never be anyone else”

I smile softly with his words, nodding a little and he squeezes me to him a little more “You could have told me what happened that night”

Shaking my head I scoff lightheartedly “Sty, come on there’s absolutely no way I could have told you”

“Yes you could have!” He insists, chuckling a little “Then I could have told you that you were crazy–”

I snort and level him with a look “Yes brilliant idea to tell the girl who just hallucinated her first kiss with the guy she’s in love with that she’s crazy.”

“Okay we all were hallucinating that night” he tries to reassure me and I narrow my eyes thoughtfully at him “Somehow that doesn’t make me feel better”

Stiles laughs softly, clearing his face of any humor as he gets a little more serious “Adds, if you told me that night what happened I would have told you right then that I was in love with you and only you”

I make a noise and ramble lightly “Well I wouldn’t have ever explained what happened that night because I thought you were in love with Lydia, so that just screams awkward trying to have you comfort me and my feelings when you love someone else but don’t want to hurt me and those feelings that just got dumped on you.”

He just blinks a few times and groans frustratedly, resting his forehead against mine “I can’t believe I was so stupid as to ever say something in your vicinity that would ever make you think you weren’t the only girl for me.”

I chuckle and move my nose along his “Yes, well… even Sherlock has his off days” I say gently and he connects his eyes with mine, breathing out a soft little chuckle.

He moves his eyes between mine before he lifts his head off mine and smiles like he just got a great idea “C’mere” he mumbles, reaching up and grabbing one of my hands in his before he starts walking me across the patio “Where are we going?” I ask, quickly moving my feet to keep up with him.

“Just follow me, babe” he says over his shoulder, keeping his hand tightly around mine as we walk into the living room. I flinch back a little from the loud music and talking noise, staying right behind him as he guides us through the crowd. 

He walks past everyone that’s standing around talking and dancing on and near the staircase before he leads us over to Lydia’s dad’s old office. Figuring Lydia would have locked these doors I draw my brows together curiously as he opens one of the french doors and leads us inside.

I walk further into the office towards the bookcase on the far wall and I turn around to look at him as he closes and locks the door. I raise a brow and look from the lock and up to connect my gaze with his “What exactly are we doing in here?”

Stiles just keeps his gaze locked on mine as he murmurs simply “This” and recreates the I’d burn the world down for you steps I told him about and quickly stalks towards me. I make a little noise when he sets his hands on my hips and presses me back against the bookshelf, smiling in his adorably sexy way before he kisses me.

Yeah I may have thought the hallucination was a good kiss but I didn’t know any better because kissing the real thing is unlike anything I could have imagined. I set my hands on his sides, feeling him lift one hand to cradle the side of my face in his palm as he pulls me impossibly closer and moves his lips against mine. 

I can’t even help the whimper that I make as I kiss him back, my hands gripping his shirt at his sides. Stiles responds with his own soft moan at my response and uses his hand to gently tilt my head and deepen the kiss. 

He pulls back just enough to rest his forehead on mine, gazing into my eyes as he moves his thumb against my cheek “Nothing has or will ever feel as right as this does, Adds. You are it for me and I will spend the rest of my life showing you how true that is so you will never question it, okay?”

“Yup” I sigh dreamily, wrapping my arms around his middle and licking my lips quickly as I smile softly up at him “I understand you loud and clear.”

He chuckles, his eyes dropping to my lips as he licks his own and murmurs “Good” before he gives me another earth shattering kiss.

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A/N: Thanks so much for reading! Always love to hear your lovely people’s thoughts & if you’re not comfortable with that a like/reblog gives me just as much life! Please let know what you thought I'm so sorry to any and everyone who would not wished to be tagged anymore. Wasn't really sure how to tag this so just figured the last like I had for IABY and the IABY movie coming up would be ok. But please let me know if you would prefer to not be tagged in any IABY stuff in the future!

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Do not copy and paste my writing anywhere without my consent.  This work is property of @stiles-o-dylan24.   These characters, with the exception of Addy McCall(homegirl was all me), aren’t mine but this fanfiction is.   These works contain material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited.   No part of these works may be reproduced in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author/publisher.  

Posted 14 May 2024

[goldsbitch]

WAKE UP

The rush right before it finally ends. Lando plays a supporting character - but an important one.

PS: wrote this one two days before my break up. figures.

warning - cheating, very short, break up

Y/N tried to recall when the thought first poisoned her mind. Was it November? New Year? Was it two weeks ago? Time flies in a strange speed when you're unsure. When you're debating everything you thought you were sure of. Was it maybe even September? But they were so happy in September. Must have been after that. But who knew. Once you start lying to yourself, it's hard to untangle the story.

Break up. The cursed concept. Surely they were not the pair that would be the ones to end things just out of boredom. Y/N felt a sudden hit of clarify. Boredom was not the right word to describe her situation. It was dissatisfaction. She wanted more, she needed more, when she dared to look, every cell in her body told her that she craved something more, like one would crave water after days in the driest of deserts.

As she sat across her partner, at yet another empty and pointless dinner, she watched the one she thought would be the one. She made a bet with herself to see how many questions he would ask her during that night, knowing that there were texts from a certain racer guy she met only few weeks ago buzzing on her phone, texts filled with questions, so much that she had to mute his notifications. She quietly studied the man across from her when a terrified thought hit her mind and was not going to leave without a fight. This man had no idea who she was these days. "You don't even know me," she wanted to stand up and scream at him right then and there. Because she had tried many times before to get the connection back, him being oblivious to all of her attempts and brushing them off as her work stress.

If it hadn't been Lando, it would have probably been someone else. When he spotted her at a bar - where she sat alone, as her boyfriend ditched her to hang out with his friends, who were not her biggest fans anyway, so why bother - he was drawn to her immediately. She had always wondered why people sat alone at the bar and once she found out, she only wished to get back to the blissful ignorance. Lando met thousands of people, he could have picked anyone. But he saw her, got drunk on her energy rather than on the cocktails they drank and made it his mission to get into her head. Getting under her skirt was more of an accident.

Y/N condemned cheating. The worst thing one could do. And ultimately, the thing everyone should do at least once in their life to understand the gravity of the act - or at least this is what she came up with in the shower after, the shower that was supposed to wash off all of the traces of his tongue and fingertips. But only it hadn't. He entered her dreams and then her daydreams. It was a shot directly into her almost dead veins, passion and wonder flowing though, replacing the emptiness her so called partner left unattended.

"I don't have time to deal with this, sweetheart," was a sentence Y/N could have recited in the exact same tone and melody as her partner had. "You don't know me," she wanted to scream at him, to cut the silence that stopped being a comfort one for months now. Instead, she excused herself and took her phone to the bathroom. She imagined this is how drug addicts felt when they went for their hit. It was as if she became a different person once she entered the bathroom. She quickly got her phone out and giddy as a ever, read the three texts Lando left for her, gulping down at every word he shared with her.

Second wave of clarity hit her. It was panic and relief at the same moment. A leap of the unknown. The fear and the excitement it brought at the same time. Her relationship had to end. It probably had few weeks ago, but none of the involved people have noticed. She saw it now, clear as a day. Hiding from her soon to be ex, sitting in a bathroom, smiling like a little school girl to her phone and living somewhere completely else than where she was physically present. She was too young to be living in a compromise. Even if Lando was suppose to be just a stepping station into something real, she understood, that leaving was essential. Before more damage was done.

Wake up, it's time to break up.

[casuallyimagining]

When September Ends // part eight.

Min Yoongi x female reader

Summary: Six years after leaving your home planet, you’re forced to confront your past… and the one you left behind.  Word Count: 4,697 Genre: Star Wars au, friends to enemies to lovers, angst Warnings: minor character death, survivor's guilt, yoongi has anger issues, mentions of the death of an entire planet, anxiety, alcohol, reader character suffers from the burden of high expectations, mentions of torture (nothing  explicit), mentions of needles, hospitalization, brief descriptions of scarring, brief descriptions of panic, hospitalization, an assassination attempt, a gun fight, murder

Notes: Thanks to @daechwitatamic and @the-boy-meets-evil for listening to me complain about this fic, helping me plan, and beta-ing for me; to @oddinary4btsfor the late-game encouragement and edits.

Playlist: All of the poetry in this fic has been pulled from various songs and poems. You can find all the songs (and some others) in the playlist that I made for this fic on Spotify.

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Yoongi’s convinced that he has never walked so fast in his whole life. Not run–running would imply that there’s something wrong, and for anyone else on Spira, his life is going perfectly great. No, he’s walking, following the path as it curves around the resort lobby, past the cantina, through the trees, to the bungalows. You had a head-start–he’d stood there, a little shell-shocked, for at least a minute–and he had no doubt that you were already in the bungalow.

He just hopes you haven’t bolted the door.

But no, the proximity chip works, and as he crosses the wooden bridge, the door beeps and clicks unlocked. He pushes his way in, the cool air from the aircon hitting him in the face like a wall. He’s careful to shut the door gently behind him. He doesn’t want it to slam and you–wherever you are–to think he’s mad. 

The door to the deck is ajar, and he can see you out there, sitting on the edge of the hot tub. But he doesn’t go out. Not yet. A little part of him feels like throwing up, and he’s not sure why. All he knows is that this somehow feels even more tenuous than the situation with the Connois. And he’s not entirely unconvinced that they’re going to end up killing you both and dumping your bodies into the ocean.

Get it together, idiot.

Quietly, he slides open the glass door and steps out into the salty air once again. You don’t even look up, not when he closes the door behind him, not when he sits down beside you, not when he slides his legs into the water. The hot tub must not be on, because the water is surprisingly cool. It’s actually nice out on the deck–there’s a great view of the sea from this side of the peninsula, and the setting sun has turned everything a shade of warm gold. 

“Why’d you leave?” He tries to ask it softly. And by some miracle, there’s no venom in his voice. He can't, however, hide the tinge of hurt that comes through.

You shrug and avoid his eyes. He’s known you long enough to know that you’re anxious, can see the tension in how you hold yourself, can see how every muscle in your body is tensed and ready to spring you away.

“I’m not mad,” he clarifies, just in case you had any doubts. For a moment, he’s a little surprised by it himself. He isn’t mad. Three months ago, he’d be flying off the handle right about now. But no, he’s mostly just confused. “I’m just trying to figure out what went wrong.”

“You know what went wrong.” Your voice is hard, almost robotic. Even without knowing you the way he does, Yoongi knows it’s forced. 

But instead of pushing like he so desperately wants to–I really don’t, why don’t you enlighten me?–he lets the silence linger for a moment. And then, tentatively, he asks, “Do you regret it?”

Your response is almost immediate. “Do you?”

“No.” He says it without thinking, but he means it. 

A month ago–hell, an hour ago–he would never have dreamed that he’d be in this situation. But now, sitting beside you as the sun sets the world aflame? He kind of wants to kiss you again. 

And why shouldn’t he? Maybe he’s never flat-out admitted it to himself, maybe he’s deluded himself into thinking your friendship was perfectly normal, that everyone else would act the way the two of you did, if only they had a best friend as close as you were to him. He’d been so mad when you left, and he had never really been able to figure out why. He’d always thought that he’d been upset by you not saying goodbye, but now, Yoongi’s starting to realize that maybe there was more to it. 

That maybe there is more to it.

But he has no idea how to say any of it. That there’s a part of him that wants to accomplish nothing else in his life but making you laugh. That not having you there for six years–not knowing how to find you or contact you or even if you were alive–was like a part of him was missing. That when he was angry and mean, it’s mostly because he’s hurting and a little because he’s scared out of his fucking mind. That he’s less hurt and less scared when you’re there.

It’s all too much and not enough and he’s worried about how you’ll take it. Looking back, there are plenty of times where he thinks that maybe, just maybe, you feel the same way. But if he’s reading it all wrong–if you don’t feel like he does and you think that you’re just friends–that would be the absolute end of him. He would put on a brave face and shut the fuck up and be your friend, just as he’s always done. But now that the door is open, there’s no shutting it.

The sun is so low on the horizon now that it’s almost entirely gone. The sky is starting to darken, the gold has started to fade. He looks over to you, and you’re watching the sun droop, and you’re beautiful, awash in the dying embers of the sunset. He sighs, pulls a leg up to his chest, and watches as the water drips off his toes.

“We can pretend like it never happened,” he hears himself say. His voice is calm, his tone even. He sounds much braver than he feels. “We’re just too damn good at our jobs.” He laughs then, even though part of him is dying and he kind of feels like his stomach could vacate his body through his ass at any moment. “You have to do a lot of things when you’re undercover. This can just be one of those things.”

“I…” You trail off, and Yoongi waits for you to continue. Then, you sigh. “I can’t deal with this right now.”

What the fuck?

Immediately, he can hear his heartbeat in his ears, can feel his blood pressure rising. What the fuck is that supposed to mean? You can’t deal with it right now? He could have handled you saying yes, that you did want to forget about it. But what the actual fuck does it mean that you can’t deal with it right now? 

He can feel himself getting angry. But he takes a breath, closes his eyes, forces himself to cool off. He’s mad, sure, but he doesn’t want to explode, doesn’t want to ruin the progress that he’s made–with you and with himself. Despite what you’ve just said, you don’t deserve his outburst. He can be angry. He can’t be unreasonable. 

So instead of saying something he’ll regret, he simply says, “Okay.” And he stands. And despite the fact that his legs are dripping water and that he doesn’t particularly want to do it, he goes back inside. And that, he thinks, is that.

Yoongi wakes up in a cold sweat. It’s freezing in the bungalow–the aircon must be working overtime. He’s in the bedroom. Alone. The shades are closed, but light is streaming through the cracks. It must be mid-morning. You’re supposed to meet up with the Connois. Why hadn’t you woken him up?

Where are you?

He’s freezing, so he tugs the blanket off the bed and wraps it around himself before venturing out into the rest of the bungalow. The kitchen is empty, but there, sitting on the sofa in the living room, is Seokjin. When did he get here? Was he even supposed to come? Did you call him? Was he here to take your place on the mission?

Seokjin watches him emerge from the bedroom, watches as he shuts the door behind him. Yoongi can feel his eyes on him. It feels almost judging. And when the older man speaks, Yoongi really feels judged.

“At least she’s still around for you to get mad at.”

“Shut up.”

Seokjin shrugs, sips at the cup that’s in his hands. Weird. Yoongi hadn’t realized he was holding something. The closer he gets to the older man, the more he smells like Corellian rum and tropical fruit–same as the drink from the bar.

“Where is she?” Yoongi looks around. You’re not out on the deck, you’re not here in the living room. There’s not many other places you could be.

Seokjin nods toward the front door silently. And Yoongi doesn’t hesitate, he drops the blanket and throws it open. And when he steps out of the bungalow and onto the bridge of the Star Chaser, he doesn’t question it. Kitt is in the pilot’s chair. The warning lights are flashing, the alarms are blaring, the instruments on the panels are beeping. Frantically, she pleads into the comms. A TIE Fighter whizzes past the cockpit window, guns blazing. 

He watches as Kitt gets up quickly and practically jumps down the ladder to the belly of the haulcraft. He doesn’t need to go down there to know what’s going on. He doesn’t want to go down there. But his feet carry him there anyway. 

His heart is pounding as he climbs down the ladder. Rung after rung, he can feel the dread pool in his stomach like a rock. But he’s gotta get to the bottom. What if you’re there? He has to make sure you get into a lifepod. He’ll give you his if he has to.

And as his foot touches the grated metal of the cargo hold of the ship, something changes. Everything goes silent. No alarms, no beeping, no frantic last words of his ill-fated friends. Just… silence.

Which makes sense, because the hold is empty. The lifepods are still there, everything is physically as he remembers it. But he’s the only one there. Kitt, Feeney, Jieun, you. Everyone is gone.

Suddenly, he’s hit with a wave of unease. It makes him nauseous, like he’s being tossed about in a patch of solar turbulence. He can’t shake the feeling that something is wrong, and something inside him knows that it’s related to the fact that he can’t find you. If he could just find you, he thinks that maybe, he’d feel better. But where does he even start? 

Where are you?

Where are you?

Where are you?

Yoongi gasps. He can’t breathe. Something is squeezing his lungs and he can’t suck in a breath. His heart rate quickens, he can feel it pounding in his chest as he struggles. He takes in a shallow breath, but it’s not enough. He clutches at his shirt, the neckline strangling him as he tries desperately to fill his lungs. Another wheezing breath. The panic starts to set in.

But with the panic comes an odd clarity. He’s in the bedroom of the bungalow again. It’s dark, but he can make out the shapes around him. The bed in the center of the wall. A side table and lamp beside him. A chair in the corner. His bag sitting open on the floor. Yours, closed, sitting upright beside it. The door, and the light flooding in underneath it. Outside, the sound of the waves lapping against the pillars holding the bungalow aloft.

He focuses on the waves, and on the softness of the blanket on the bed, and slowly, ever so slowly, he calms down. 

It was a dream, he tells himself. Just a stupid fucking dream.

He stands, and in a few long strides, he’s in front of the door. His palm is sweaty as he grips the knob, nervous for what he’s about to see on the other side. But then he opens it. And there you are, still sitting on the deck. He lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. You’ve moved onto the sofa, your feet propped up on the ottoman as you face out toward the water. The sun set hours ago, so he doubts you’re even looking at anything. As he’s standing there watching, you tip your head back and stare up at the stars.

Yoongi takes a deep breath to gather up his courage and pads across the polished wooden floor to the glass door. He slides it open quietly, but in the stillness of the night, it sounds like a ship taking off compared to the gentle waves below. You look up at the sound, offering him a flat smile that doesn’t meet your eyes. Neither of you say anything as he sits down beside you, but you move your legs over to give him room on the ottoman, so he assumes that he’s welcome out here.

It’s relaxing, listening to the waves lap at the supports of the bungalow. Somewhere in the distance, he can hear music, but it’s far-off and he can’t even make out what instruments are playing. Surprisingly, there are no insects–at least, none that make noise. If he closes his eyes, Yoongi could probably pretend that he’s not on a mission and that he’s actually here to relax. 

Eventually, you sigh deeply, and you turn your head to face him. “You could have gotten mad at me, you know.”

“I was.” Maybe it’s how quiet the night is, but Yoongi feels like he has to whisper. “There was a minute where I was mad.” He shrugs and turns his body so that his shoulder is against the back of the sofa and he’s facing you. “But mostly, I’m just confused.”

You make a noise, and he isn’t sure what to think of it. It’s almost like a hum, or kind of like a scoff, but it’s also high-pitched and sounds a little sad. “It’s what I do, right? I run away. Just like Yavin. Just like Fest.” 

Yoongi frowns. “So you have something to work on. What’s so bad about that?”

“What?”

“Start now. Stop running and face it. Whatever you’re running from. I’m here–I can help if you want. We can work on things together–you on this and me on my anger.”

“I don’t… not want to do that.” You turn, tipping your head back so that you’re once again looking toward the stars. “But that would mean that a lot of things would have to be real.”

“And real is scary.” Yoongi guesses, but then you make a face. And he knows he’s right.

The smallest part of him preens a little, proud that he still knows you so well. But then he considers just how long you’ve been running, and what that could mean, and what you might be running from. And he hurts for you, knowing that maybe, a little bit of all of this is his fault.

Slowly, he brings a hand up to pull you close. But he stops short of touching you, his hand hovering in the air centimeters from your back. What if you don’t want this? What if you want him to just leave you alone? What if you’d rather sit there in whatever emotions you’re feeling but not saying?

Fuck it, he thinks, and he wraps an arm around your shoulders in what he hopes is a comforting gesture. 

The silence returns. He’d give almost anything for some sort of noise to cut through the deafening quiet. He’d probably even take the thrumming and whirring and beeping and clanging of the factories on Fest. The silence isn’t uncomfortable, it’s tense. The kind where you sit there, anticipating something, but you don’t know what. Yoongi’s not a fan, but he doesn’t dare break it.

Finally, though, you rub at your face as if you’re trying to scrub away your emotions. “What if,” you mumble, voice muffled by your hands. “What if we didn’t pretend it didn’t happen?”

His heart stops. Like, full-on stops, someone call a medical droid, he’s dying. His hand is still on your shoulder, and at this point, he’s not sure he can remove it. Thankfully, you continue, and he has time to get himself together before you expect a response.

“I mean I… I don’t know. I don’t think we have to forget about it. I don’t think that’s fair.” You sigh. “If we don’t regret it, then what’s the problem?” You say it like you’re trying to convince yourself.

“Then what’s the problem?” Yoongi repeats. 

“I just got you back.” 

The crack in your voice shatters him. He doesn’t even know how to react to it, not really, but he pulls you close anyway. Your body bumps into his chest, and all he wants to do in that moment is hold you until you’re both not so broken anymore. He knows that’s not possible–it’s a disservice to everything you’ve both been through and come out on the other side of–but maybe, if you were both still twenty and mostly whole, this would be easier.

Mentally, Yoongi is rolling his eyes. It’s been two hours, and it didn’t even take one for him to determine that the Connois are among the most insufferable people in the galaxy. At breakfast, Yoongi was ravenous–all he had for dinner the day before was that blue-green cocktail at the bar–but instead of breakfast at the cantina, they led you and Yoongi to a smaller restaurant further down the beach. Small plates. They served small plates. And really, it’s not the Connois’ fault, but fuck, he’s hungry and he already doesn’t like them and now, everything is terrible.

At least he’s not alone.

You must sense that Yoongi’s annoyed, because you’ve been shouldering most of the conversation. After breakfast, they’d wanted to take a boat to one of the islands a few kilometers offshore. And you’d gone along with it with a smile, taking his hand and not letting it go the whole time. You’ve fielded every question, prompting him to respond where necessary.

The Connois have brought you to a small shop. It’s not as pristine and commercial as the buildings in the resort, but that’s not to say it isn’t nice. It’s made of some sort of thin wood, and it’s filled to bursting with all sorts of tropical flowers and plants. You’re gathered around a small table, a teal-skinned Twi’lek stands in front of you. So far, she’s showed your little group how to weave the flower stems together to make intricate designs. She speaks with an air of authority–calm confidence oozes from her every time she brings up a new type of flower or leaf. It would be impressive if he weren’t so incredibly done with being here.

 She hands Yoongi a palm frond.

“You’re awfully quiet, Yulli,” Alain asks, happily accepting a long-stemmed flower from the Twi’lek. He looks up, makes eye contact with Yoongi before turning back to the awkward clump of flowers on the table in front of him.

Yoongi shrugs and doesn’t look up from weaving the palm frond through his bundle of buds and palms. “Having trouble letting go of work, I guess.” It’s a stab, a fairly clumsy one, but if you’re bothered by it, you’ll have to forgive him–he’s hungry.

The Connois both laugh politely. “Oh we’ve been there,” Lylla says.

“I dedicate an hour each morning to work. Then I put it aside to focus on Lylla.” Alain takes a break from mutilating a flower stem to pinch his wife’s side. She squeals and jumps away, and Yoongi once again has to restrain himself from rolling his eyes.

You lift your creation, eyeing it carefully before sitting it back on the table and taking a dark flower from the Twi’lek. You make subtle eye contact with Yoongi. “Sounds like a good way to handle it. What do you do?”

Okay, so we’re doing this.

“Alain commands a star destroyer in the Mid-Rim,” Lylla chirps. Judging by her smile and how she’s preening, she’s very proud of her husband. Alain makes a noise, as if to say that it’s not that impressive of a job. “He was personally selected by one of the Commodores to help with a top-secret mission once he gets back on-ship in three days.”

It’s not new information, but hearing them say it, hearing them acknowledge it, makes Yoongi’s blood boil. They’re proud of the fact that they are actively supporting and participating in the subjugation of an entire galaxy. And either they don’t know, or they don’t care. Yoongi isn’t sure which is worse. 

For your part, you ‘ooh’ politely and gas Connoi up a little. He basks in the attention, demurring and waving you off as you tell him how cool and impressive of a job it is. And then you drop the big question.

“Where are you stationed at?”

And Yoongi has to give you credit. You ask it so casually, it really does just sound like genuine interest. You don’t even look up from the flower that you’re casually tucking into the circlet you’ve been making. But then you make eye contact with him briefly, and he can see the barely disguised panic in your expression. He can almost tell what you’re thinking, too.

We’re so dead.

“We’ll be moving to Kashyyk space. That’s where we’re meeting up with the Commodore.” Alain primps the clump of flowers in front of him. Then he looks up, sheepish. “But, of course, you didn’t hear that from me.”

“Oh,” you laugh. “Of course.”

You change topics to something a little less suspicious–ask about their family, their homeworlds, how they met. Yoongi can’t bring himself to join in on the conversation. He listens, of course, for any signs that maybe you’re struggling or for questions directed at him. But for the most part, he just focuses on the flower arrangement in front of him.

After a few moments, you catch his attention, and when he looks up, you present him with the flower circlet you’d been weaving together. It’s pretty, with purple and blue tropical blooms and fancy palm fronds. Gently, you place the circlet on his head and mess with his hair, pulling strands out from under the flowers carefully. You look so pleased with yourself, and you’re so close that Yoongi can see the way your eyes sparkle as you smile. It’s cute.

You’re cute.

The Twi’lek takes all of the flower arrangements and sprays them with something to keep them looking nice. Yoongi’s not sure what the chemical is, but the flowers feel different, like maybe they’re coated with a plasticy substance. You place the flowers back on his head, apparently proud of your handiwork. 

The Connois giggle together, showing off their creations. Yoongi can’t quite make out what they’re saying to each other, but based on the stupid, gooey looks on both of their faces, he doesn’t want to. You nudge into him, nod in the Connois’ direction, and make a face. Yoongi laughs, embarrassingly loudly, but you grin widely, and he doesn’t care. 

“Where do we want to go next?” Lylla questions once you’re all outside of the florists’ shop. She gloms onto her husband’s arm.

“Actually…” You mirror Lylla’s stance, molding yourself against Yoongi’s side. You play with the fabric of the sleeve of his shirt, rolling the red cloth between your thumb and forefinger. “I could use a break.”

Alain smiles, like he’s in on some secret. “Let’s not monopolize all of their time, dear. I’m sure they have plenty of things they’d like to do on their own.”

Yoongi’s eyes widen at the implication, and he can feel his face heat up. Is that what you were trying to imply? He tries to hide his surprise by looking at you, and when he meets your eyes, you’re clearly just as shocked as he is. Thankfully, you think quickly on your feet. You laugh awkwardly and give a half shrug.

“I just want to take advantage of our vacation before we have to go back. Shoot me.”

The Connois laugh, and Lylla paws at your shoulder playfully, like you’ve just told the funniest joke ever. 

You part with the promise of meeting up for dinner.

You don’t end up meeting up with the Connois for dinner. Instead, you spend the time planning and preparing to take the information you’d gleaned from the captain and his wife. That, and calming down Yoongi.

“I can’t tell if they’re blind or stupid, or if they’re just that cruel,” he says, falling backwards on the floor of the bungalow’s bedroom. It’s the third time he’s said something like this, speculating on why the Connois are who they are.

You shrug, pulling the components of your communicator out of the hidden compartment of your bag. “They seem too clueless to be cruel.”

“But how could they not know?” He rolls onto his side and reaches for a component. He snaps open the port covers in the casing so they can be plugged in later. “How could they not see?”

You don’t have an answer. It seems impossible. How could someone not see the press of the Empire’s thumb on your homeworld of Fest? How could someone not notice the obliteration of planets like Alderaan and Scarif, or the destruction on Jedha? How could someone ignore the subjugation of Wookies on Kashyyyk, of the Bodach’i on Kerev Doi? You weren’t even that highly ranked in the rebellion, and yet you’d heard of it all. Word travels fast among the rebels. But it’s convenient–and beneficial–for the Empire to compartmentalize their atrocities. So it wouldn’t surprise you if you found that the Connois had no idea.

Of course, Yoongi knows all of this.

He groans, handing you another fully-opened piece of the comms-array. “How much do you think this mission cost? I get it’s important, but there’s got to be a better use for these funds, right?”

“In a world where Mon’s life isn’t in danger? Probably.”

“It’s bullshit though! All of these people here–all of these families–the money they’re spending here could support us for months!”

You let him vent. It’s probably healthier for him to get it out now, and you’ve always found it a little amusing to watch him get fired up about things like this.

“It could feed a whole apartment block on Fest for months,” he continues. “And yet they sit out there, not a single care in their putrid little minds.”

“Putrid little minds.” You repeat it, pitching your voice up slightly and masking your laughter with a cough and a well-timed snap! of the communicator parts.

“Too much money for their own good.” He says it like a diagnosis, his tone sage and all-knowing. 

Lazily, Yoongi rolls onto his back and pushes himself into a sitting position. He continues to rant as he helps you assemble the comms-array, connecting wires and snapping parts together while complaining about the hundreds of presumably wealthy, unbothered couples and families you’d seen at the resort. It’s cute, watching him fret and complain. He looks so grumpy bent over the comms parts, raven hair falling into his face. You quickly glance away when he looks up to hand you the section he’s been working on. 

It only takes a few minutes to finish assembling the communications device. It sits on the floor of the bungalow, small and boxy and light. There’s no way that it would ever reach far enough into space for its signal to be received by the main rebel fleet. But of course, that’s not what it will be doing. There’s a small transport ship in orbit just far enough away from Spira that it won’t be detected by planet security. You flick the switch to turn the comms-array on and watch the lights on the display illuminate one-by-one as it makes a connection to the larger, stronger system on the ship.

You wait. Even though this is far from the first comms-array you’ve assembled, it still makes you anxious. What if you’ve done something wrong? You hold your breath as you watch the lights flicker on, only letting it out when the final one turns on. The machine beeps, signaling that it’s fully connected, and you switch it over so that your message will be encrypted.

“Tee?” You speak into the small attached microphone. “You there?”

previous | masterlist | next

so we've successfully done some spy shit. what do we think? next chapter's the last one, are we excited? I'm pretty pumped.

[lvverleavr]

Mutually Exclusive | Entry Two

Entry Two: All The Young Dudes

༘ Jake x f oc (Annalise)

༘4k words

༘warnings: language, discussions of strained parental relationships, smut(oral f receiving)

A/N: I had to rewrite and repost this part just to encapsulate the pieces I really wanted so hopefully you all love it as much as I do! I'm thinking of starting a tag list if the demands calls for it. Read part one Here!

Entry Two:

May 30, 2017. The date that started a whirlwind of the next six months. Saying six months was being generous but if I’m being entirely honest the whole second half of that year became a big blur to me as the year went on. I never understood how such a beautiful exciting summer could turn colder faster than the days the leaves began to fall. I dropped out not long after the run in with Juliet and you graduated on the 30th. It seemed like our lives were just set to begin. I’m not sure why but when I always thought of my future it was always “our” future. Like our past was ours so why can’t the future be the same way. I had Josh and Sam and even Danny but it wasn’t the same if I didn’t think of you there with me.

 I took Juliet on three dates over your last semester, just three before she told me I was too “emotionally detached” to date seriously. I had to hold back any form of laughter when she said that because two of those three “dates” we went on were just hooking up in the back of my truck after a shitty movie. I don’t think she understood what a serious relationship really entailed and if we’re being honest neither did I. The difference between us was at least I didn’t pretend to know. You always said you wanted the summer to last, something to remember and look back on like our last grip at being completely free before the adult word hit us in the gut. 

The day you called me to come pick you up was a Thursday, I remember it to be a Thursday because I listened to the highlights of last night's baseball game on the whole ride to your house. Your driveway was gravel and the lawn was overgrown, I used to mow it back when we were in high school and your dad would pay me $5 each time. Your mother told me to stop once he died, she told me they didn’t have money to just give away like that. I would’ve done it for free, I grew to enjoy doing it. It’s how I got to know you so well. I’d mow the lawn with my dad’s old mower, you’d come out and offer me a glass of water but always would end up just sitting on the steps and watching the patterns of the cut grass as I pushed the blade across the lawn.

I stopped just at the doors of the barn, the lock had been rusted shut from being locked all these years. You’d think your mother would have you open it, sell all the old tools of your fathers but I don’t think even she was that cruel to put such a task on you. 

The front door swung open, her voice yelling echoing off the trees surrounding the house as you ran from the steps and into my truck, “Just go please go.” You say quickly, pulling the seat belt over you as I back out of the driveway, watching you roll down the window and giving her a big wave before clicking off the radio.“Hey I was listening to that-” I frown, turning it back on as you buckled yourself into the passenger seat. “We have more important things to talk about,” You reply, pressing the dial to turn the radio off once again. “My grandfather.”

“The dead one or the mean one?” I ask. 

“My mothers father, the mean one.” You clarify, “Get this. He’s taking a two month trip to Europe with his fourth wife.” The smile growing on your face seemed contradictory to the words coming from your mouth. 

I giggled slightly, “Good for him?” My tone pitching up at the end, trying to piece together the point of the news. 

“No fuck him I don’t care about him. What I do care about is him asking my mother to watch the house for the next two months,” You shoved my arm, kicking your feet slightly against the floor mat. “He wants my mother– the woman who hasn’t left the house since Bush was president to drive two hours out of town to stay at his three acre mansion.” I made my way onto the highway, still struggling to understand what seemed like a growing inconvenient story and how it left you nearly shaking with excitement. “Someone has to watch the house, Jacob. My mother can’t do it but we both know she won’t tell my grandfather that so who does that leave!” 

You shove me again, I chuckle out a small ‘ow’ as I rub my arm, “Stop! you get violent when you’re excited,” centering my car in the lane before glancing at you again. 

“Who does that leave to watch the house!” You repeat again, playfully slapping my leg closest to you, interrupting before I could even open my mouth. “Us!” You squeal, “Us, two months in his stupidly huge house with a liquor cabinet that hasn’t been touched since the 70’s and three acres to do whatever our hearts desire.” 

“So you want me to pack up and spend two months at your bitter old grandfather's mansion so you can have a party and not have an excuse to be home instead?” I ask, you nodding excitedly in agreement. 

“Exactly.”

He left for his trip on August 15th and we got there on the 16th, the first night was oddly eerie. The air was cool once the stars came out but every creak and croak echoed down the halls. I left my things in one of the downstairs guest rooms while you unpacked across the hall. We were a half hour out of the nearest town and the air conditioner made a low hum that you would mistake for a voice if you weren’t paying attention. “You all set in here?” I ask as I open your bedroom door, your attention on the paintings that lined the walls 

“That's my mother.” You reply quietly, disregarding the question. “When she was young, see? She did ballet…” You came to your feet, your hand reaching out and gently brushing the painting with the tips of your fingers. “She was beautiful… My grandmother used to tell me about it, she was supposed to go to Juilliard–but she found out she was pregnant three weeks before she left.” 

The painting was beautiful, the subject was a young girl– she looked just like you there was no mistaking it, but her face was curved to a frown. “With you?” I ask, looking at you beside me. 

You nod, your eyes only moving to the painting beside it, another one of who I assumed to be your mother, though you never told me who it really was. “I think it's why she never liked me.” You continue, resting your head on my shoulder as we look over the paintings. “She loves me… I think she loves me but I think part of her resents me. Like me, being born is what made her the woman she is now. Now I’m stuck paying her back for it until one of us dies.” 

I let out a soft sigh, shaking my head slightly. “She can’t blame you for something you had no control over. You’re not the one at fault for what she became.” 

“Tell her that,” You chuckle lightly, standing back up straight as you shake out your shoulders. “Alright that’s enough. This is supposed to be fun right?” 

I nod, offering you back a smile as you turn to me, gently shaking my shoulders and walking out of the room. 

•

 August seemed to pull out from under us and before I knew it, it was mid September. As the days slipped out from under me I felt myself grasping for any piece of you I could, things that seemed to pass by my mind like nothing suddenly made my head spin. It could’ve been the lack of contact with much of anyone else but something just felt like a knot tying itself over and over in my stomach. I had come to find comfort in the creaking of the old house and the pictures that hung above my bed didn’t scare me anymore. It was almost midnight when I heard your voice from the hallway, you never stayed up late so hearing you awake past ten pm felt concerning. “An?” I call out, hearing no response. I waited a few seconds, flicking on the lamp beside my bed but still being met with nothing. “Anna? If you’re fucking with me its not funny.” 

Against my better judgment I left my bedroom, wandering down the hallway to see the front door cracked open. For a moment it felt like some horror movie, the feeling fleeing the second my eyes registered you sitting on the front steps, the faint smell of your cigarette wafting towards the doorway. “An?” I ask again, this time catching your attention. 

You turned, quickly wiping your eyes with your sleeve as you offered me a smile, “Hey- I thought you were sleeping,” The porch light illuminated your face as you looked at me, your eyes were slightly red and your hand shook as you held the cigarette between your fingers. 

“I heard something– were you talking to someone?” 

You shook your head, taking a short drag of your cigarette before pushing the smoke out between your lips, “Just my mom… I think she just wanted someone to yell at.” Gently patting the wood beside you with a gentle smile. 

“I don’t understand why you answer her calls this late at night…” I sighed softly as I sat beside you, feeling your head gently rest on my shoulder. “She always calls when she’s been drinking just to yell at you for stuff that doesn’t even have to do with you.” 

“Like when she called me during prom to yell at me because my brother decided to go to San Diego with his girlfriend instead of coming home for summer” You giggle, handing me the cigarette as I reach for it. “She pulls the, you promised your father you’d always be here after he died, card.” 

I shake my head, turning my head to the side as I blow the smoke out carefully, “She pulls that card to make you feel guilty… It’s gonna stop working one day.” 

You nod in agreement, taking the cigarette back and pressing it firmly into the ashtray beside you, “Thank you for coming here with me.” Tilting your head up to look at me, your cheeks hinting just a brief shade of pink as you notice me already looking at you, “I don’t think I could stay here this long with anyone else.” 

I can’t help but smile, giving you a gentle nod, “It’s been really fun… I couldn’t think of a better way to end the summer.” My eyes trailed to your lips, involuntarily at first but after the first few moments it became entirely voluntary. I felt my heart pick up, a softness grow in your gaze that I never experienced before. You smiled, your eyes flicking across my face every shift of our gazes seemed to drop to a slow motion. I felt your body shift closer, my fingers grazing yours and I felt cemented in place, completely unable to move as you closed the gap. The warmth of your lips finally pressed to mine and I felt as though I could melt right there, tension that could be cut with a knife suddenly melted to a puddle at our feet. My hand reached up, gently cupping your cheek as I kissed you back— feeling your lips curve into a smile against mine. Your fingers gently interlaced with the ones that rested in my lap, thumb running over the bumps of my knuckles as I caved to the urge to kiss you deeper. 

My cheeks were red hot when we finally pulled away, your eyes fluttering back open as you gently wiped your thumb under my bottom lip, “It’s late…” You whispered softly, your fingers grazing along my cheek and down to my jaw before dropping back to your lap. 

All I could muster up was a soft nod, swiping my tongue along my bottom lip as I loosened the grip I had on your other hand, “Are you coming to bed too?” I ask, following your lead and bringing myself back up to my feet. 

“Why?” You smile, nudging me playfully, “You worried about me?” I could tell you were trying to cut the tension, a moment that lapsed the dynamic we had for so long– it changed just in that moment. 

“Just don’t wanna hear you talking to yourself out here in the middle of the night,” I smile, pushing the door open as I let you step inside. “I’ll see you in the morning…” You turned to face me as you stepped in, our gazes following one another until it would’ve been too obvious if you kept it. 

“Goodnight…” 

I left the door open a crack, a decision I didn’t notice I had made but it just felt right, like some metaphor in reflection of the moment I just walked away from. I could feel you still on my lips, my tongue swiping along them instinctively as I thought about it. I watched the fan whirl above me, so lost in my own thoughts, I barely heard the creak of the door opening. 

“Jake…” I leant up, feeling the bed press down with the weight of your knee, your body moving to lay in the space left empty beside me. 

“Are you okay?” My heart started to pound, your eyes were on mine as you settled on your side, my eyes falling to your lips near immediately, “Did something happen-” I barely let out the last word before your lips pressed to mine once more. I kissed you back without hesitation, feeling your hand press against my chest. 

I let out a small breath against your lips, my hand gently holding the side of your neck as I pulled away. Your lips parted as you looked up at me, my eyes scanned over your face as I looked for some reasoning, part of me wanting you to lean back in– every part of me craving you as your hand slid up to my cheek, cupping it softly. “Please-” Was all I could remember you saying, your lips connecting softly to my jaw, like something neither of us could explain had a hold over us in that moment. Nothing mattered other than how quickly we could intertwine ourselves in one another right in that very instant. My hand gently slid down your side, fingers nudging the hem of your shirt up as my finger tips grazed your bare side. You let out a whine, barely audible but your hips stirred slightly at the feeling of my touch against your skin. I pulled away just for a moment, slipping your shirt over your head and dropping it on the floor beside us as your lips connected with my neck. My lips parted, feeling your hand take mine, guiding it down to gently cup your breast. 

“Shit-” You mumbled softly, my thumb gently swiping over your nipple. Your hand dropped from mine, pushing my shirt up until I could pull myself away long enough for you to tug it over my head. The corners of your eyes softened as we made eye contact, giving me the opportunity to carefully lay you on the bed beside me. No second thoughts clouded my brain as my lips lined your jaw, mapping a trail down your neck and slowing as they fell down between your breasts. Your fingertips gently grazed my bare shoulder, nails just barely scratching my skin as I finally reached the hem of your shorts. My kisses grew needier as your hips gently stirred under my touch, feeling my hands guide them off.

“Fuck-” I couldnt help but mumble out, the soft glow of the bedside lamp illuminating you underneath me. My eyes trailed back up to yours, your hand gently cupping my jaw as your thumb rubbed my cheek. 

“Please… Please I-I’ve always-” You whispered, a shake in your voice. “I need to know what you feel like against me…” 

I nearly moaned at the words alone, the pure need dripping off both of us. My eyes never lingered from yours as I dipped my head down, soft kisses pressing against your thighs as your hips stirred, jolting as my touch finally connected to your core. My fingers gently pressing into the soft skin of your thighs as my tongue swirled against you, it was near addicting. Your noises circling my head left me wanting to stay right there forever. My nose gently nudged at your clit, my hands slid to hold your hips as your fingers twisted and tugged at the roots of my hair. I could feel your movements growing more sporadic the more I delved into you, feeling you gently roll your hips against my face as you whined softly, “I’m so- I’m so please,” You begged, a low groan escaping my lips as my tongue pressed flat against you. 

Your hips slowed as your fingers flexed and released from my hair, moving to gently graze the back of my neck as you panted softly. I gently pulled away, feeling you move to caress my cheek softly, your smile guiding me back up to your lips. 

“Wipe your face don’t be gross,” You chuckled breathlessly, I blushed and nodded. Swiping the back of my hand across my lips before pressing a soft kiss to your lips.

•

That was all that night was, you kissed me back and in the morning I woke up to my shirt that was on the floor missing and the trail of your clothes still scattered around. I rubbed my eyes, stretching out as I slid my pants back on. The hallway was cold, glancing both ways down it to see the front door propped open again. Shit I mumbled to myself, my initial thought being that your mother was at it once more. As I padded softly down the hallway, rubbing my bare arms I was met with the sound of music from the kitchen instead. I glanced over, seeing you stood at the kitchen sink, realizing where my missing shirt had gone. 

Neither of us brought the night before for that entire day, if anything I would take it how it was, relish in the feeling it gave me but allow it be exactly that, a feeling, just one night. 

“What if we’re getting cabin fever and we don’t even know it?” You ask me, laid out on the cool kitchen tile as I washed the last few dishes that lingered in the sink. “Like how Jack pushed it off until he just picked up that ax and went crazy.” 

I let out a small chuckle, shaking my head as I turned off the water, “Do you have random visions of killing me?” Looking down at you, your head just inches from my left foot. 

“Who knows,” You shrug, stretching out your arms in front of you, fingers sprawling out from one another before letting it shoot out to the side to grab my ankle, “REDRUM!” You yell, your voice gritting as you squeeze my leg, causing me to jump back.

“Shit Ann, don't– that scares the shit out of me!” I couldn’t help but let out a soft chuckle as I jumped from your grip. “I think the house is getting to you,” 

“Not my fault it makes me feel like I’m stuck in 1895,” You huff as you bring yourself to sit up, “Like Dracula is gonna walk in on me showering one of these nights or something, ask me why I’m in his house.” Your eyes followed along the shelves and cabinets that were laid against the hallway wall just adjacent to the kitchen doorway. pointing your empty wine glass up at me as your other hand wipes the tear from your eye. 

“Same kind?” I ask, you nodding as I grab my glass and taking down the last gulp before filling both back up. 

“This fucking house creeps me out.” You mumble, running your fingers through your hair as your eyes land on the large record player in the corner of the room. “So he does enjoy some things.” You giggle, crouching down and pulling it from a shelf, it was in a large case with an old cord trailing out of the back of it. “Bring those into the living room–” You say with a small oof the weight of the player hitting your stomach as you stand back up. 

I couldn't help but smile as I watched you lug it into the other room, you were too enthralled by the collection of vinyl in the hallway to see my gaze lingering on you, the sight of you made my stomach twist. 

“I’m, um- just gonna run upstairs for a second to grab something I’ll be right back,” I say softly, passing you your glass as you drag your finger along the line of tattered spines on the shelf. I didn't need anything, nothing at all. If anything I needed a second to breathe, as days passed these moments beside you overwhelmed me and the alcohol already flushing my cheeks didn't help.

I shook off the feeling, making my way down the stairs and rounding towards the living room. The music drifted down the hall, it was loud and the song changed. I couldn't help but smile, your voice just barely over the first words of the song as I passed the doorway into the living room. I stood there for a few moments, smiling as you gently spun in the middle of the room, your hair fell over your face as your head hung down– the chorus echoing off the same old walls.

Hey Dudes!

You called, finally lifting your head to see me. A toothy grin taking over your face and your wine glass near empty now in the other, 

Where are ya?”

I called back, stepping forward as you reached your hand out. I took it in mine and carefully spun you, laughing as we danced. 

I never danced. We never danced but that night we did. We spun and we skipped and you ran back over to pull the needle to restart the song. I loved every second of it, the tenth time for the last verse on our fifth glass of wine. 

All the young dudes

You sung out, giggling as you looked over 

“I wanna hear ya!” You smiled, jumping back over as my eyes glued to yours. I couldn't take my eyes off you, my chest was on fire as you looked at me. You wrapped an arm around my shoulder, your voice slowly fading as my arm slid around your waist. 

Both our smiles were wearying slightly, and the music seemed to do the same thing. I could feel my heartbeat in my ears when you kissed me, the song dwindling down as I kissed you back. The euphoria of the moment only lasted just that, a moment, before the guilt set in. Watching as you stood there so peacefully, completely unaware of the news I had been holding onto for nearly two weeks now. I had meeting after meeting for the last three months with every and any label that would us. I grasped at any straw, any city, state even one even being up in toronto. I never really figured out what I was going to do when one of them called me back. 

“An?” I say softly, watching as you nod, taking the last sip from your glass, a small smile on your lips. “I’m moving to Tennessee.”

[sailtomarina]

Wanting to Know Me; Wanting to Know You

So here we are, at the start of Dramione Month, and I’ve decided to toss my hat into the ring and see just how far I can go. This will be my first time participating and I’m basically treating it like my own daily prompter. Most of these will be one shots, like here, but, depending on the reception, I may consider extending some promising ones into more. Today's prompt: Hogwarts - Eighth Year Read in full on AO3! Or, read below for a sneak peek:

There was no question about it. Draco Malfoy had returned to Hogwarts a changed man.

Hermione didn’t even consider categorizing her former rival as a “boy,” not after everything they’d all gone through the past several years. Their experiences were not the sorts of memories any child should carry, and they’d all long lost any claim to the mere notion of youth. They had become adults from far too young an age, Harry and Malfoy most of all.

She’d testified for him alongside her friends—it was the very least they could do considering the pressure he’d been under and the changes they’d seen in him by the end. That didn’t mean they excused all that he’d done. No. There was too much ugly history there.

They did their part to clarify the events of the Astronomy Tower and Malfoy Manor, as well as the visible pressure they’d seen on him over the years under the watchful gaze of his father. Perhaps their testimony helped, because it wasn’t long after that the Wizengamot laid down the verdict—no Azkaban, but a forced return to Hogwarts with expectations of the highest marks and a decade of service to the Ministry.

The first time Hermione set eyes on him at the start of their final, “eighth,” year, she saw a young man broken by the consequences of his actions. Like a wraith, he passed through the hallways nearly devoid of presence.

The first time she witnessed the once formidable Malfoy subject to a gigantic spoonful of his own medicine, she was embarrassed to say that it took her several minutes before she could react. 

She’d been on her way to the library following dinner when she heard scuffling followed by what sounded like pained grunts. The noise led her straight towards an abandoned classroom where a circle of students surrounded Draco Malfoy. She watched in horror as students of almost every house took turns taunting him, kicking, laughing. He remained almost completely silent through it all, only releasing barely audible groans after a particularly violent hit. He curled into a ball, protecting his front and crossing his arms protectively over his head. 

“He’s too quiet—we’re obviously not hitting him hard enough.”

Hermione didn’t recognize the Ravenclaw boy who spoke, but she did notice Seamus pulling out his wand.

“Maybe a little fire will wake him up,” he snarled, eyes sparking at Malfoy. Hermione recalled Seamus’ mother had only recently been discharged from St. Mungo’s after surviving a Deatheater attack at a cafe. “Incendi—”

“Protego!” The spell sprung from her lips before she even realized she’d cast it. The force of her shield was so strong, it shoved back Seamus and a few other boys who’d hovered behind him.

“What the hell, Hermione? What do you think you’re doing?” Seamus had the gall to point his wand towards her, and she reacted on instinct once more.

“Expelliarmus!”

His wand arced neatly through the air into her waiting hand. Muttering erupted all around her as all the focus turned away from Malfoy.

“Stopping you from something you’ll regret.” She remained hyper focused on the crowd surrounding her. After what she’d just seen, she didn’t put it past anyone to try and overpower her. She’d seen crowds feed into energy like this before.

“Oh, I definitely won’t regret giving this Death Eater exactly what he deserves.” Seamus’ expression was ugly, fists balled in determination.

“That isn’t our choice to make. He’s already received his verdict. The only thing you’d be doing is satisfying your own need for revenge by lowering yourself to the same level of people you claim to hate.” She raised her voice at the end, making sure the words were unmistakable to every single person in the room.

“Malfoy is the reason why so many of our classmates are dead, Hermione, or did you forget? If he just didn’t exist, they’d never have made it into Hogwarts—”

She cut him off before he could continue that train of thought. “If it wasn’t him, it would have been someone else. In the grand scheme of things, Draco Malfoy is nothing. You killing him does nothing except make you a killer.” She turned her eyes to the rest of the room. “Is that all you are? Murderers? What did you even learn from this war?”

Silence was her answer as the eyes on her fell away to look at the floor, or flicker over to Malfoy in indecision.

Seamus’ hand tugged at the back of his hair in frustration. “Bloody hell, Hermione, that isn’t what we were doing—”

“You weren’t trying to set him on fire just now?”

“Fuck. Yes, but it wasn’t like I was going to kill him. I just wanted him to feel a fraction of the pain he caused us—”

“Were you at his trial?”

He looked back at her in confusion. “No. I don’t see how that means anything.”

“So you didn’t witness when they extracted and viewed his memories.” She said it as a statement rather than a question.

“No, again, how does that even matter—”

“It matters because Malfoy has endured more pain than almost everyone in this room. I’m not making excuses for him, but I am telling the truth about that. If you want your wand back, if you all want to avoid expulsion, then I suggest you leave Malfoy alone.” Hermione stepped over to stand in front of where he was still cowering on the ground and watched as the students shuffled out. Seamus was the last to leave, scowling over at Malfoy one more time before slamming the door shut behind him.

Hermione waited a beat to make sure nobody returned, then cast her own locking spell before turning to check on her childhood bully. The irony of the situation didn’t escape her, but she wasn’t in a laughing mood.

“Malfoy?” She kept her voice calm and low, hoping it would relax him enough for her to check on his injuries. “Are you badly hurt?”

He remained quiet, curling up even tighter if that was even possible. For how much he’d grown the past couple of years, shoulders and thighs broadening to fill his uniform, he shrank down an impressive amount when threatened. He reminded her of the blast-ended skrewts with their armored shells made to protect their soft underbellies.

“Malfoy, it’s just me, Hermione. Everyone else left.”

Read in full here.

[twoidiotwriters1]

Copycat: Genesis —(Marvel Fem!Oc)

A/N: May you are mother -Danny

Words: 1,741

Phase Six Masterlist

Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

Listen to: ‘Sad Girl’ -by Valley Boy

iv: Aunt May

Cat woke up on Parker's bed, even though she remembered falling asleep on the couch. She sat groggily and pushed her curls away from her eyes. Peter was in the shower, so her anxiety didn't blow up right away, her hearing was way better than the day prior.

Something itched on her neck and she reached to scratch it, then winced when she came into contact with the tender skin, but at least the blisters had vanished. Memories of the last couple of months forced her back onto the bed, and once again she stared at the ceiling not knowing what to do.

She was completely safe for the first time ever, she could go out looking like Copycat and no one would try to hurt her. Best of all, she had a Peter Parker to keep her company. The distance between her and her universe (and the dangers that lived within it) lifted her spirits.

Parker walked out of the bathroom with a towel around his neck, he had a dark blue hoodie on and a pair of worn-out jeans. The cut on his hand was looking better, but it was still red and a little swollen.

"You patrolled last night," she stated.

He stopped in shock. "Did I wake you?"

"No, but I can smell it," she vaguely pointed at the suit under his clothes. "You still don't wash that thing. Where are you going?"

"School," he said. "And I'm late. I'm sorry, I really wish I could stay but it's not like I can pause my whole life— But don't worry, I won't leave you alone."

Cat hesitated. "You're not taking me to school?"

"No, of course not," he grabbed his backpack from the couch and started to collect several items from around the apartment. "I called May. She helps at a welfare organization, and they're looking for volunteers. I told her my friend Janie was visiting and she was interested, so you'll stay there until I finish my day."

Cat's heart did a summersault. "I'm meeting your aunt?"

He gave her an annoyed look. "Why is she getting that reaction when I got stabbed?"

"Because every May that's ever existed is probably the sweetest woman in every universe," she retorted. "And I didn't stab you that badly. I stabbed my Peter in the rib and he barely complained!"

"We'll go back to what you just said in a moment," he raised a brow, Parker grabbed a square bandaid from the kit on his coffee table and put it over his wound. "But there are a few things we need to clarify first."

"What things?"

"Your story."

Cat made a face. "She'll want to know about me..."

"There's a way to keep it simple."

"I'm listening."

Parker sat at the foot of the bed. "You're Jane M. Maximoff, born in Sokovia but left early in life. You've lived here and there with an eccentric uncle but he died last year, and you were left on the streets because you used all of your money trying to save him—"

"And I'm here because..?"

"I invited you over and you accepted to come."

"I'm poorer than you are."

"Why do I feel that's coming out with disdain?" He frowned.

"Well, not towards you," she said. "I just don't know if your aunt will believe that. How would you even afford to look after me?"

"Oh this is very on brand for us Parkers, don't worry about it," he brushed it aside, getting up and hanging his towel where the small window let a bit of sunlight hit. "If anything, she'll be super proud 'cause I took in a friend in need, she'll try her best to help us out."

"You're manipulating your aunt so she feeds us for free?"

He snorted. "My aunt will manipulate us, trust me."

Cat wanted to laugh, but she stopped herself from doing so. It didn't feel right when she'd left behind a dying friend running for his life. Parker noticed this and he spoke in a gentler voice. "We can work as fast as humanly possible and you'd still have to wait at least a month. You'll probably resent me..."

"I won't." He gave her a look and she felt forced to explain further. "I lost my suit, my weapons, and my secret identities... all I have is this," she gestured at herself, "flesh and bone. And you saved that."

"That's not so bad, you still have thumbs," he replied humorously. "You want to go back, don't you?"

"Obviously."

He picked up his backpack and hung it on his shoulder. "You say you have to go back, that you should — but you don't sound exactly eager to do so..."

"No. I'm going through a process of grief," she said, rubbing her bloodshot eyes. "I'm probably doing it wrong, 'cause last night I was pissed, now I'm okay, so it's obviously not in the right order... maybe I'll stare at the wall in denial until you get me out of here."

Parker's lips twisted into a bemused smirk, tight-lipped and discrete, yet transparent. He didn't want to laugh, but Cat had a way to describe her tragedies that made them too funny.

"Okay, well, I'll try my best to work while you're not in a zombie state," he pointed at the closet. "Get dressed, I'm leaving you with May on my way to school."

"About that," she mentioned, "what are you going to do to get the beeper working again?"

Parker shrugged. "Gotta replaced the broken pieces, see if it works the same way as the last even if those belong in my universe... it might just implode the moment we switch it on..."

"What?"

"I'm just messing with you," he grinned, walking towards the kitchen. "Don't worry about it, Janie, I'll figure it out. Enjoy your time-out."

Cat scowled at him, she didn't want to leave everything to him, but at the same time, it was a nice change to be looked after instead of carrying her own weight every second of the day. She wasn't going to admit that out loud, though, Parker would be insufferable otherwise.

"Stop that."

"Stop what?"

"Stop glaring," he glimpsed at her over his shoulder. "If my aunt sees you're miserable she'll file for adoption papers and then she won't let you leave her side—"

"Can I ask you something?"

"Go ahead."

"Why were these shoes in your closet?" Cat looked down at the sneakers she was currently using. "Am I using your girlfriend's clothes? Cause that feels invasive—"

"No, those aren't—" he turned and face her without stopping, Cat didn't worry about him crashing against things, but she still gave a start at the action. "I got the idea from you."

"What idea?"

"To keep a pair of women's shoes in my closet just in case."

Cat bit her lip to avoid laughing. "Just in case one of your hookups loses their shoe?"

"No." His cheeks were turning red. "Maybe. I don't know, I just thought it was a good idea!"

The mutant let out a short laugh that died too quickly for Parker's liking, but at least she'd laughed, so that was an improvement. "Gotta say the shoes feel extremely intuitive, and it doesn't help that you went to my world just to kidnap me."

"Why would I kidnap you?" He rolled his eyes, turning his back on her.

"Lonely men do weird things. Just look at Billy Russo building his entire plan around the fantasy of choking me to death..."

"Russo's a jackass," he said bluntly. "If I ever run into him..."

"That's something my Peter would say," she chuckled. "He kinda did, when he saw me after all those years apart."

"We are variants of the same person," he hummed in agreement, "but not exactly the same, you know? I still am fifteen inches taller, right? I'm older—"

She looked at the building ahead. "Is that the place?"

Parker nodded, when they entered, the young man got showered with a string of greetings, most of the people there were over thirty, which brought her back to her days being the Avenger's youngest asset. It was only when she reached the main room that she realized this was the same building her May had worked in. She was still in a New York, and that would have to suffice for a while.

"Hi May," Parker gave the woman a kiss on the cheek. "This is Jane..."

Cat waved at the woman. "Hi."

"So you do exist," May beamed. "Such a sweet-looking girl! Did you have breakfast?"

It'd been a long time since she'd interacted with someone whose first reaction wasn't to poke fun at her. It made her uncomfortable. "No. Sorry."

"We left the apartment in a hurry 'cause I'm running late," Parker explained to his aunt, he checked his watch and circled her, kissing the woman's other cheek. "I should get going, actually— see you in a few hours, Jane! I'll pick you up, so don't leave this place alone alright?"

"Okay."

"See ya!"

Parker ran out of the building leaving a severely stressed Cat behind. He hadn't mentioned an important part of her story in this universe: How they first met. May placed her hand on Cat's shoulder to get her attention, she was a short woman.

"How's your stay in New York going?"

"It's been nice. Uneventful," she smiled awkwardly. "I'm not used to having all this free time..."

"Peter told me about your uncle," she patted her back, "I'm so sorry..."

"I've had enough time to grieve... it's funny, people worry about how we feel when our tutors die, but they never care about kids struggling to navigate the adult aspects of life when there's no one to teach them... I don't wanna sound like a brat or anything..." Cat stopped, realizing she was rambling.

"Oh no no, it's completely okay," May eased her. "All that happens once you become an adult, if no one teaches you to handle it, it can feel like a maze with no exit."

"That's exactly what I mean. You're the smartest woman on earth, May," she grinned. "Can I call you May?"

"Aunt May if you want, dear. Come this way, I'll introduce you to everybody."

The mutant wanted to tell her how much she'd missed her, but this wasn't her May, she didn't look like her at all. Worse yet, she would never see this version of May again once Parker took her back to her universe, so she had to keep some distance between them.

"What do you want me to do?"

"I want you to go over to that table and take clothes for yourself."

Cat stepped back. "I don't— it's not—" but it was, so she made her way to the table with a somber air and picked whatever she felt would do in the meantime.

Next Chapter—>

Taglist.

@mikaelsonwhxrebae​​​​ @ieatpanicattacksforlunch​​​​​​​ @jesuswasnotawhiteman​​​​​​​ @siriuslysirius1107​​​​​​​ @greengarsstuff​​​​​​​ @itsyagirl01 @23victoria​​​​​​​ @espressopatronum454​​​​​​​​ @jkthinkstoomuch

[nakamotos-blog]

E-mails

Yuta (Performing Arts Major, Football captain) x Reader (Fashion Design Major), College Au, Strangers to lovers (Part two)

Genre; Fluff

Warnings for this chapter; Non

Word count; 1291

Dear Yuta,

 You probably think I'm weird by now, and I wouldn't blame you. It has been a month since I have been sending these emails to you, and I have decided that it is time that I stopped. I don't know if you ever read these stupid emails. Either way, I just hope it wasn't a bother.

 I just wanted you to know that it helped me in many ways. It sounds stupid, but it did, and I guess this will be my last email!

 P.S Eat healthily and stay safe.

Love, (your initials)

 You hit send as you sigh loudly. You closed your laptop and leaned on your chair as you felt hopelessness. Looking around the library filled with students, your eyes hungrily looked for someone specific. Defeated, you started to pack as you teared up. You were hating yourself right now, and you were wishing that you could do many things. Among those, what you wished for most was confidence to at least say hi to him, but no, you had to be so cowardly.

 It had been a month since you decided to e-mail him to interact with him. You thought it would be a great idea. Clearly, you thought wrong, because he never replied. You had been so hopeful, even after a week had passed, but to your dismay, there was no reply. You tried to be hopeful and you tried to make up every excuse you could for him. Rambles and complaints, everything you never said but wanted to say, you wrote it to him almost every night. Your bubble ended up bursting as it hit a month and so you decided to stop. To move on from all this, you knew you had to.

 Yuta is a popular figure; everyone knows him. Everyone likes him and adores him. Like his healing smile is just enough to melt anyone's heart. He was everything, and you were just one of the girls who drooled over him. Due to the difference in their majors and years, it was hard to cross paths. Not even once, never close by, just from afar.

 You were still lost in a pool of degradative thoughts, even though you were walking out of the library and towards the dorms. It was disheartening and disappointing as well, but you knew you would get over it. Somehow...

 As soon as you reached your room, you slept. The unmotivated self of yours woke up at 11 pm. What a time to be awake, right? Frustrated, you dragged yourself out of bed, freshening up before sitting down at your desk. You opened your laptop as the unfinished homework wouldn't be finishing itself. It wouldn't take so long; you thought while you scribbled down in your notebook.

 "Almost done," you talked to yourself as you stretched. You take a deep breath before you attend to the rest of your work, but before you could start writing, a familiar "beep" sound caught your attention. Clicking on the notification from desktop Gmail, your eyes widened as you realized there was a new email in your inbox. It wasn't just any inbox, though; it was the Gmail inbox that you used solely to send him those emails.

Dear (your initials),

 Hi, I feel like you would hate me for replying to your goodbye and not the others. But I just want to be selfish and ask you to keep sending them. Except this time, I promise to write back. I'm sorry for not writing back earlier. I have read all of them and it has never bothered me.

 Hopefully, some day we can meet up and hang out too. I don't think you are weird, by the way.

Love, Yuta

 You didn’t expect a reply, so your first thought was that you were dreaming. Pinching yourself to clarify whether it was real, you shoved your face right at the display to re-read the mail from that familiar address you wrote to every day. He was right. You kind of hated him for not replying and you wanted to kick him for it.

 Out of everything, though, what stood out to you most was his question. You still weren't ready to. Maybe you will never be However, happiness overtook any of your feelings. He will be writing back to you. You squealed as you stretched yourself before writing a reply.

Dear Yuta,

 Your reply almost knocked me out of my chair, honestly. I really didn't think you would reply! I forgive you, so you better keep your promise!

 I’m glad you don’t find me weird (or stupid, of course), and I was really worried that I might have gotten on your bad side. Now that I know that I didn’t, I’m on cloud nine.

 How was your day? You must be tired, with all the Football practice going on and everything. Tell me about it.

Love, (Y/I)

 You hit send again, this time with stars in your eyes. I was not expecting a reply tonight as it was almost 12am and you got back to your homework. It didn’t take too long until you heard the same "beep" again. You smiled from ear to ear as you read the reply you had just received.

Dear (Y/I),

 Well, I’m glad you are happy (and that you didn't fall off of your chair).

 I’m actually pretty tired. Football practice is so tiresome, though it is fun. Classes were boring, as usual, you know. Those long lectures feel like hell. But it was better than yesterday because I had coffee to keep me company in class. Speaking of classes, what major are you? I promise I won't look into finding you until you are ready to meet me.

 The boys had ordered pizza from outside of the campus, so I’m so full and lazy now. I've just got to lie on the bed. They always drag me out to join their fun. Oh, and I hope you have eaten by now since it is late.

 What are you up to?

Love, Yuta

Dear Yuta,

 Your day sounds fun compared to mine. I'm guilty of sleeping the whole day (basically). Maybe I could attach some of the rest that I got so you can have them.

 Oh, I'm majoring in fashion design. I'm a first-year, so it's painful. You better keep that promise too, or else! And it's nice to know that the boys take care of you. It's really cute. I have met Jungwoo a few times by the way (a hint again, yes).

 I should help myself to some ramen I think I could hear my stomach growling. I just finished my homework since it won't get done itself.

 You should get some sleep, Yuta. Since the competition is soon, you must practice tomorrow too, right? Good night, sweetest dreams!

Love, (Y/I)

You thought of waiting for a few minutes to go through your notes and also for his reply to come. A few minutes passed, and there was that beep again. You hurried to read it before you headed to fix yourself a cup of instant ramen.

Dear (Y/I)

fashion designer? If you need a model, I'm available at any time, okay? I’m handsome, you know, fit to be a model!

It's good you had good rest today, and thank you for sending some of it my way! Take care of yourself, okay? And don’t help yourself with cups of instant ramen all the time; it's not healthy.

Oh yeah, the competition. You should come and cheer for me both at practice and at the competition too. Maybe I could spot you.

You should sleep soon too. Eat well! Good night and sleep well!

P.S. Jungwoo is so lucky then.

Love, Yuta

(I hope you like it! There will be a next chapter so stay tuned!!)

[phoenixyfriend]

Time Travel ft. Leia and Vader

(Helped by @atagotiak)

I was reading a bunch of different time travel fics, and my brain slotted in that one "Vader hands over the Empire to Leia and is now her most devoted sycophant" dynamic and mixed it with the "Luke and Vader time-travel and Vader does the right thing but only because it would make Luke sad if he didn't."

I landed on "Leia time travels to prequels era, but her least favorite family member has also traveled with her, though it takes him a few months to find her because he has less resources without the entire Imperial Navy, but he's still a scary Sith in all black with a breathing mask and intimidating cape."

"Tiny angry lady who wants to force democracy and her giant Sith father whom she hates but has resigned herself to pointing at threats like a tank who inexplicably loves her" is a delightful dynamic.

The first few months included a lot of concern about "why do you know so much about Sith if you're not trained or looking to be one" and then Vader shows up and calls her 'daughter' and she insults him and it's like "Oh. That explains it."

Council Member: We have a Sith in the Temple. Vader: Former Sith. Leia: Listen. He is your best chance against Sidious. Also, do you want Dooku dead? Vader can make him dead. Council Member: Your father i-- Leia, scrunching up her face: Don't call him that.

Like Leia is deep in conversation when the Temple starts panicking because Vader just. Showed up? He snuck in, somehow? So Palpatine wouldn't catch him on video entering through the front door? And people try to keep her away from the trouble, because there's an entire array of Jedi Masters to deal with this Surprise Sith, except she can sense exactly which Sith it is and once she shouts "oh you have got to be kidding me!" she just starts running and, well, it's Leia. Nobody can stop her.

(Leia does have less combat training, at least less force-assisted combat training, than the Jedi. But then the Jedi don’t want to hurt here here. She's not fighting her way down, either, she's just running really fast and all the best fighters already left. They had a head start. So Leia's mostly running past random padawans and the like.)

She shoves her way to the front of the group of Masters who. Well, they're certainly ready to attack. But Vader is just standing there. Doing nothing. Still intimidating as fuck but he's not doing anything.

And then Leia bursts onto the scene like "You motherfucker."

She hits her head on a clipboard and whines because UGH he's a walking WMD and they could REALLY use him against Palpatine but also. She hates him so much.

She tries to hand him off to the Jedi council but he insists that he will only take orders from Leia herself.

Jedi: Wait, what. Leia, completely ignoring them: Did you follow me here? Vader, through the mechanical wheezing: I have no loyalty to my master and no empire to serve. You are all that I have left. Leia: Me? Me? I'm all that you have left? You committed a genocide that killed all the family I had except for the twin brother you later mutilated! Jedi: Wait what Vader, going to one knee: I pledge my loyalty and blade to you and only you, daughter. Leia, ready to explode: I. I just. Jedi, some of whom really want to say things but are slowly realizing that they just accidentally acquired a Sith Lord by proxy: What. Leia: I hate you so much but I can't even get rid of you, you're too useful. Vader: I live to serve. Leia: Yeah. Got that. Fuck. Someone get him a full medical rundown, I don't know the last time that mess of a life support system was updated. Jedi, agitated again: WHAT Leia: Listen, I don't like him, but I'm not stupid enough to throw away the second most dangerous person in the universe when I can point him at the most dangerous person in the universe. Especially not if he's going to listen to me. Jedi: But... he's a Sith. Leia: Please trust me when I say this: you might be able to take him down eventually, but he will take dozens of you down with him, and right now he's... honestly, I'm pretty sure he's more depressed than malicious. Jedi: You hate him. I can feel it. Leia: Yes, but I can be professional about it. Vader: They have not yet d-- Leia: Nope! No talking! Not until I've had a chance to process this mess!

There is a whole lot of Leia snapping at Vader to stop it whenever he starts giving off vibes like he wants to take the most violent shortcut possible.

She is not the gentle hand that Luke would be.

Leia isn't a Jedi or working for them but she's wormed her way into being an ally. They don't 100% trust her, especially not with Vader just showing up and declaring her family but like

How do you say no to a WMD walking into your house and saying "I will fight the monster you cower from at night."

There's a lot of Leia snapping off an admonishment that sounds just a little too odd and then when questioned she just says "He knows what he did."

tbh I'm not sure how long it takes for them to tell anyone that Anakin is Vader. They might hold it off in hopes that Anakin can just retire to be Mr. Amidala after the war is over.

Well, Leia hopes. Vader just lets Leia make that call and then glowers at his younger self every time they're in the same room.

I do feel like Leia tells Obi-Wan the truth first

Imagine. Imagine a Vader who’s past still isn’t known. But has gotten somewhat comfortable around the Jedi (not really but the bar for what counts and comfortable for him is low). And Obi-Wan habitually banters with darksiders, right? If Vader’s guard is down for a moment and he, without thinking, references an inside joke...

Might be the most fun in terms of ways to tell Obi-Wan "We're time travelers and Vader is what happens if you let Palpatine drive Anakin off the edge"

If Vader has decided to pledge himself to her orders after destroying her planet, then fine. She can work with that. She's not going to be happy about it, but she can make it work.

The Jedi Temple hates having Vader anywhere nearby but he is actually very good at hiding himself from people, including Palpatine And for all that Leia seems perpetually irritated with her apparent bodyguard, he does seem to listen to her.

Jedi council: We still haven't figured out how to handle Dooku Leia: Do you know his location? Jedi council: Yes. Leia: [sigh] Leia: Vader, deal with it. Alive if possible.

(Leia does need to clarify an acceptable level of violence against the people protecting Dooku.) (She needs to clarify... many things.)

Leia always says "Vader" and one time a poor fool just asks why she doesn't call him dad and she snarls out "He is not the man that raised me, and I am glad for it."

Someone less foolish later prods more compassionately and she lets them know she was adopted and didn't properly meet Vader except in passing until she was nineteen.

"And then he tortured you." "And then he tortured me, yes." "Damn." "Didn't even find out we were related until a few years later when he chopped my brother's arm off." "You... wow." "I know."

At least one exchange that is L: You mean when you tortured me? A: He did what. V: I was not aware of our relation at that time. L: Not the point! I am fully aware of your interrogation methods and I refuse to let you be the one to acquire the evidence for-- A: Wait no go back he tortured you? L: Move on, please, we already have. A: That means I'm... oh Force, I'm going to torture my own daughter what in the actual fu-- L: We're moving on.

(“I end up torturing my own daughter” If Leia’s feeling especially spiteful I can see her saying “you mutilate your own son too”)

Concept: Leia is very free with traumatizing details of her past re:Vader and Anakin thinks that it sucks but doesn’t think much of it bc Sith. And then some time later he finds out...

(I love characters who use the traumatizing details of their past to shut down conversations.)

It's such a wonderfully horrifying concept for him to try to awkwardly comfort this girl he kind of knows because having a Sith for a dad sounds like it would suck and Leia seems nice, even if she's kind of weird and uncomfortable around Anakin, but he saw her flinch around a few other tall people wearing black robes the way she stiffens around Vader so maybe it's just that!

It is not.

Vader does get a significant amount of medical treatment. Including a bunch of "holy shit, that's a lot of drugs" and similar. There is so much lightning damage.

hnnng I'm just really in love with the image of Tiny Tiny Leia sitting behind a desk for some fancy negotiation, the picture of professionalism, while Vader just stands behind her shoulder, looming, glaring expressionless death at whoever came to speak with his baby girl.

Not that he would call her that, because she'd just hate him more and he's really not sure how to fix that problem, other than doing whatever she asks with no complaints and hoping she appreciates it.

Vader: [looks at children wandering by, has complicated emotions] Leia, tired of his shit: What now? Vader: I killed them, once. Leia, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath: And you're not going to do that again. No killing children. Vader: I know that. Leia: Great. I am... regretting asking. I am so very much regretting asking.

I do really like the idea of someone asking Leia once if she wants Jedi training and she says, no, actually, she's fully aware of the fact that she's angry little ball of hate sometimes, especially towards her bio father, and she'd like to refrain from putting herself in a position where she knows enough about the Force to Fall. She wouldn't Fall. But it does make people shut up.

[randomshyperson]

Left Behind - Chapter 6 - Once a Promise, Always a Promise.

Gif was made by my official gif maker friend @abimess

Summary: The one where you lived in the apartment under the Maximoff family in Sokovia, or, your journey as a Sokovian civilian to Avenger.

Warnings: (+16) Violence, fighting, cursing, civil war environments, abuse of power, assault, torture, underage kissing, psychological torture, substance use, mention of assault/fighting of children, smut, kissing, teasing, insinuation of sexual and moral harassment, verbal offenses.

Words: 4.753k

A/N> It's been 84 years... I just hope someone still reads this haha Let me know what you think

All Works Masterlist || Read on AO3 || Series Masterlist

//-//-//-//-////-//-//-//-////-//-//-//-////-//-//-//-//

Chapter 6 - Once a Promise, Always a Promise.

When you wake up, you get your ass beaten up by an unknown woman.

You awaken all at once, advancing against the woman who was watching you sleep. Her surprise only lasts a second, however, as the next she returns your blow and knocks you to the ground, a gun pointed straight at your face.

Wide-eyed, you realize where you are and raise your hands.

"Sorry, sorry." You can quickly. "I thought I was in the lab again. Who the hell are you by the way?"

The woman raises her eyebrow at you.

"Cap, get over here before I shoot her."

And the next second, a blond man is running into the area of the ship where you are, looking worried.

"Let's all calm down, okay?" He asks as he sees the gun extended, and waits for the woman to put it down. You sigh lightly, rising to stand up.

"I'm sorry I attacked you, Miss." You ask as soon as you are on your feet, and massage your shoulder, which hit the ground hard when she knocked you down.

"It's fine, you just got beat up anyway." She teases, making you give a short laugh.

You were about to ask if they could let you off the ship anywhere, but a low groan of pain beside you caught your attention.

Just then you noticed the man lying on the stretcher next to you a few feet away, a large wound in his rib. You are also able to notice the rest of the ship, there is a man piloting a few meters away, and two men sitting further ahead, talking to each other.

"Hey, I can help." You stated immediately, but as soon as you moved, the woman stood in front of you, looking at you with suspicion and defiance, and you swallowed dryly. "I-I can heal him." You clarified, but the woman only changed her posture when the man next to you touched her forearm.

"Can you do that?" He asks you, and you nod. You wait for the woman to take a step back to approach the man on the stretcher.

"Hey, are you guys sure of this?" The man lying down asked uncomfortably, and you raise your hands in the air.

"Hi, I'm Y/N, I won't hurt you, I promise. "You guarantee it." Can I heal your injuries?" You ask and wait for him to confirm.

The wound is deep, but you have dealt with much worse.

"How did you do that?"

"It was nothing." You say as you put your hands down. His skin was completely intact again.

"This sure is cooler than lightning, huh, Thor?" Commented the blond as he sat down on the stretcher, clearly feeling better. The long-haired man at the back of the ship looks at you curiously as he stands up, and when he notices his colleague completely healed, he looks impressed.

"This sure is an interesting skill for a mortal." He says to you, and you don't know exactly what to make of those words, but you don't have time to comment, because he is already approaching to introduce himself. "My name is Thor Odinson, god of thunder."

You frown.

"G-god of thunder?" You repeat confused. "Sorry, is that some kind of joke?"

The woman next to you giggles, moving to sit on the stretcher next to the man you healed. The blond man in front of you looks slightly offended, but his expression softens immediately.

"I understand that at first, mortals may be incredulous at such a..."

"No, I just thought the title was funny." You interrupt the blond man, surprising him. "You guys are the Avengers, aren't you? My master has already told me about you."

“Your master?”

It is the other blond guy in the blue uniform who asks. You mentally repress yourself.

"Damn, sorry." You say. "It's what I used to call the soldiers and doctors who gave me orders."

"Your files say that you disappeared in Sokovia when you were younger, and what we found at the base were the records of the experiments they did on you." He adds, and you twiddle your fingers nervously. "I just want to make sure you're not going to try to bring the plane down with everyone inside."

The attempted joke is enough to make you smile, but you are beginning to feel overwhelmed. You really were free. After all this time, the idea seemed almost absurd.

You try to control your emotion at once, and the man seems to notice, because his expression softens immediately.

"Hey, come have a seat." He asks, signaling to one of the empty chairs, and you obey. "My name is Steve Rogers, and I promise you're safe now. Hydra will never hurt you again."

You nod frantically, feeling the tears in your eyes. But you try to normalize your breathing, not wanting to cry in front of strangers.

"I'm sorry, I just... I've just been trying to get away for so long." You confess next, wiping your eyes quickly. "It's weird to think I succeeded."

"We are going back to the Avengers tower now. Is there anyone you would like to get in touch with?" He asks, and his words make your stomach sink.

"Yes." You say. "But I have no idea where they are."

"Who? Your family?"

You give a short laugh.

"Yeah, I guess so. They were..." You start trying to remember exactly. You didn't even know how long it had been since the time you saw the twins at the Hydra base. You had no idea if they were alive, but you wanted to believe they were. Taking a deep breath, you continue. "They were my friends. Wanda and Pietro, we grew up together. They... I saw them once. When I still had the serum in my head. I..."

Seeing your difficulty in organizing your thoughts, Steve interrupts you by touching your forearm.

"It's okay." He says. "We'll find the twins."

"So they really are alive?"

Steve smiles.

"Yes." He answers and you feel your body relax all at once. "They ran away, I imagine they were scared, but we'll find them."

You gasp, unable to control your tears. Neither Steve nor the rest of the Avengers seem to care.

When you calm down, Steve introduces you to the rest of the team.

You are not exactly happy to meet Tony Stark. The mention of his last name makes you frown, because you know it was a Stark bomb that blew up your home at Sokovia, but when you accuse Tony, he seems really upset.

"Well, I guess you can get on the list of people who hate me then." He grumbles and you cross your arms, the whole team sensing the tension in the air.

"You could at least apologize for blowing up half of Sokovia with your weapons." You retort angrily, and the man rolls his eyes, not getting up from the armchair you were in.

"Sure, no problem. I'm sorry, kiddo. Happy?"

You clench your jaw, but before you can say anything, Steve steps forward.

"Tony, try not to be a jerk, okay?" The captain speaks and the other man lets out a wry laugh. "Have at least some respect for the girl's story."

"I have respect, Captain." He assures as he stands up, looking impatient. "What I don't have is time to revisit the past while our enemies get more and more powerful." He says and you frown in confusion. "I've already banned weapons production in the industries, and we've already taken on Hydra in that place. Now we can move on, because I need to get back to the compound and understand exactly what that thing is."

He speaks and finishes by signaling to the opposite side, and it is only then that you notice the shining scepter on the far side of the room and let out a surprised exclamation, taking three steps backwards.

"How did you guys get this?" You ask horrified and the team looks at you curiously.

"Have you seen the scepter before?"

"Of course I have!" You reply. "That's what gave me the healing! The damn stone went through my chest."

Thor steps forward, looking at you in surprise.

"So Hydra were able to decipher the scepter?

You laugh humorlessly.

"If by decipher you mean press the scepter against my chest while preening me in an iron chair, then yes." You reply, but take a deep breath to calm yourself. "A yellow stone came off as soon as the scepter touched me. And well, it went right through my skin. When I woke up, I could heal. But whatever it is, it killed all the soldiers who were holding me."

Thor seems to consider your words as Steve tells you that he is sorry for what you went through in Hydra.

Suddenly you remember where you first saw him.

"The man on the bridge!" You exclaimed, surprising him, but you were getting your memories gradually, and your heart was racing. "You are Captain America.... My god, where is Bucky?"

"Great, another fan of the metal arm." Tony comments sarcastically, but no one seems to care.

Steve looks at you with a frown.

"Is he safe? Is he free? Can I see him?" You ask promptly next, and Natasha chuckles.

"Hey, calm down." Steve asks and you swallow dryly, trying not to feel so overwhelmed with so many memories coming back at once. "How do you know Bucky?"

You blink in surprise.

"He...he didn't talk about me?"

It takes a second, and then Steve's eyes widen.

“Oh my god, you’re the guardian!

"I am what now?"

Steve lets out an incredulous laugh.

"The guardian." He repeats as if you were going to understand what he meant.

Natasha clears her throat.

"Captain, perhaps you'd better explain." She asks and Steve gestures quickly.

"We've been looking for you for months." Steve then adds, causing you to widen your eyes in surprise. "Bucky he... he's been trying to find you since he escaped. But he didn't know your name. All he knew was the nickname you got from the soldiers. The golden guardian of death. It's been our only tip to find you."

"I thought it was just golden guardian." Clint adds next, Nat makes a noise of agreement.

"No, I'm sure it was just Guardian of Death." Thor comments, but you are barely listening to the teasing, feeling your thoughts racing.

Steve raises his hands to your shoulders.

"Thank you so much for saving Bucky." He says before hugging you. You feel your neck heat up at the sudden contact, but do your best to reciprocate.

Steve lets you go then, smiling.

"He's going to be so happy to see you."

"Where is he?"

"At the compound." Steve replies. "He cannot attend field missions, it's part of the pardon. It's too much bureaucracy to explain now.."

"I think he's just lazy." Tony adds wryly, making the Avengers giggle.

And Steve's smile dies briefly.

"What's with you today, anyway, Stark?"

Tony sighs impatiently, finally rising from his armchair.

"I'm sorry if I'm not reacting in the way you consider proper captain, but I'm concerned about getting to work soon." He says as he moves toward you two. “I need to find out what this thing really is.”

"No, Stark, you won't touch this." It is Thor who announces, and all the avengers look genuinely surprised.

"I beg your pardon?" Stark retorted, but Thor didn't hesitate before he looked at you next.

"Describe to me again how you got your healing, mortal."

You sigh lightly.

"They locked me in an iron chair and brought the scepter." You narrated. "But they lie me on the chair next, and I could only feel the metal against my skin, and then I saw a yellow light. Something went right through my chest, and then right through." You say. "I blacked out for a second, the room was completely empty like a vision. When I blinked, it was back, but all the soldiers holding me were dead. And then they knocked me out."

"Before you said you saw a yellow stone?"

You nodded in agreement.

"I dreamed of this memory for several days." You clarify. "I was back in the room, but this time I watched myself. I saw when they put the scepter to my chest, and when the golden stone came out and went through my skin. It was the stone that released the wave of energy that killed the soldiers .I don't know why I didn't die too."

"A single blow that killed a group of soldiers at once." Thor mutters more to himself than to the rest of the teams. "It's decided then, no mortal must touch this. It's clearly far more power than anyone should have."

"This is ridiculous." Thor accused the next moment, making the team look at him curiously. "You can't just deny knowledge about something like that and..."

"Why are you so insistent on this, Tony?" It's Steve who asks suspiciously. Tony sighs, and gives a short laugh.

"You guys are unbelievable, you know." He says. "I'm trying to find new alternatives to our problems."

"What problems?" Steve asks with a confused grimace, and Tony rolls his eyes, looking nervous.

"Our enemies, Captain!" He snarls. "In case you haven't noticed, it hasn't been too long since we faced an army of robots coming from a hole in the sky!" He accuses. "We don't have the power to face this kind of thing. The scepter is exactly what I need to prevent the worst from happening."

"Where did that come from, Tony?" Steve retorted confused.

Stark gave a short laugh, rolling his eyes.

"I don't have time for this." He grimaced and moved to grab the scepter, but Thor stood in the way, arms crossed. "Really?" Tony impatiently charges, but Thor doesn't move. Stark clenches his jaw before declaring angrily. "I had a vision, okay? I saw all of us, defeated. Defeated because we didn't have the power to win. And I... I could have prevented it."

The avengers look as confused as you are, and remain silent. Tony sighs and runs his hand through his hair.

"It was New York again, but this time the enemy won." He continues, visually upset. When he lifted his face in Steve's direction, his look was angry, but his eyes had tears in it. "And you told me that I could have stopped it."

“I wouldn't do that.” Steve says. “If we ever lose, I wouldn't blame you, Tony.”

Tony gives a short laugh.

“Wouldn’t you really?” He retorts. “I’m pretty sure you would, cap.”

Steve takes a step forward, his eyes soften as he looks at his friend.

“I promise you, Tony. If we lose, we lose together.” He declares. “That’s what being an Avengers means. I’m sorry if I was not clear before, and made you feel any different than this or…”

“Stop it!” Tony angrily interrupts. You flinch because you think you saw a familiar red light in his eyes. “Cut this sentimental crap, Steve. I’m just trying to do what’s necessary here.”

“Back off, Stark!” You order as you noted how he has moved his wand to the scepter, he seems surprised by the action too. You move in his direction as he takes two steps back, looking irritated. You gave him no time to answer however, as you raise your hands over his head and touch his forehead with your fingers before he can complain.

Immediately, you can feel the remnants of magic on Tony's head. You don't recognize it at first, but as your own magic removes the other energy, you sigh slightly. It feels familiar, but you don't know why. The energy is still harmful though, probably due to the intention of the one who cast it, but you manage to clean it all up.

You succeed because you coordinate your magic to wipe the other energy like you usually clear and heal wounds, and it seems to work, because Tony raises his hands to your wrist, his wide-eyed eyes soften and he looks almost startled.

"I'm sorry." He asks and swallows dryly. You remove your fingers from his forehead completely, watching with curiosity. He takes a deep breath, blinking several times as if waking up. "I'm sorry, everyone, I... Damn, it was like a horrible dream. I need to lie down for a minute."

And with that he leaves.

You don't ask questions anymore, because Steve is going after him, and you are trying to figure it out why you still feel the unknown magic tingling at your fingertips, as if it is trying to merge with yours.

//-//

You cry when you see Bucky again.

He lets out a disbelieving laugh, and then he's running up, hugging you tight.

Your conversation is long and intense, and is almost mostly made up of gratitude.

The other Avengers seem very happy to see the whole interaction, especially Steve.

Tony isolates himself in his room as soon as you arrive, and Thor looks upset. He and Bruce discuss something, and then they go to talk to Tony.

You don't pay attention because you are listening to Bucky tell you about getting all his memories back, and living with the Avengers since you helped him. He was now free from Hydra's control, and was pardoned by the state on condition that he was no longer the Winter Soldier.

Nat also added in his narrative the information that he and Steve were "making fondue" and the joke made him laugh with red cheeks but you didn't understand what that meant.

You are very happy to see him, but you can't help but think that he was not the one you wanted to find when you were free.

When he introduces you to the rest of the compound, and to your room, you hug him in appreciation, and you both exchange a knowing look, finally acknowledging that you are safe.

//-//

Your first night in the compound is a strange one.

After meeting the whole team, who were polite despite having fought you a few hours ago, you received a full meal and then locked yourself in your room.

But you were not used to having such a soft bed, not even before Hydra, so sleeping seemed kind of impossible.

Figuring that the Avengers wouldn't mind you taking a late night stroll, you left your room.

"Are you lost, girl?" A female voice suddenly sounded making you jump in fright. It was Natasha Romanoff, or as she introduced herself earlier, Black Widow.

"S-sorry, ma'am." You retorted clumsily, and the woman raised her eyebrows at you. "I can't sleep."

"First, I'm not old, so don't call me ma'am." She commented wryly, and you tried to smile. "Second, I know the feeling. If you want, I can distract you."

Your last social conversation with a woman happened a long time ago, and then you find yourself asking:

"Are you inviting me to have sex?"

Nat lets out a surprised laugh, crossing her arms.

"Where did that come from?" she asks, and you scratch your neck lightly.

"Sorry, I learned how to talk to women from television shows that Hydra soldiers watched in the labs. Bad references. What did you mean by distracting me?"

Nat laughed, impressed by your words.

"I meant like have some tea and tell a story." She clarifies, not sounding the least bit upset. You put your hands in the pockets of the pajamas you've been given.

"R-right. That sounds more appropriate." You mumble with flushed cheeks, eliciting another laugh from the woman. As you begin walking side by side, she comments.

"You know, I think I'm going to have a lot of fun with you around here. You are just as awkward as Steve and Bucky."

You end up hearing a story about agents in Budapest, but it seems Nat doesn't tell the whole story. It's nice, though, you missed talking to someone.

"That thing you did earlier with Tony, that was really cool." Nat remarks after a pause in silence.

You take a sip of your tea after shrugging, but she seems inquisitive.

"How did you know it was Maximoff who messed with his head?"

You almost choke at the sudden mention of the name and Nat's watchful gaze makes it impossible to disguise. You sigh.

"I... They are my friends." You confess looking down at the cup, "Or they used to be."

Raising your gaze to Nat again, she only seems curious to know, and you shrug slightly, deciding to trust her.

"We grew up together in Sokovia." You count twirling your fingers on the handle of your cup, "They were the only family I had in the orphanage. And well, it was for them that I broke into a Hydra building."

Nat listens to your story intently, and you swallow dryly before continuing.

"When they captured me, the serum, it... well, it didn't exactly leave me conscientious." You try to explain. "It was like pushing all my memories away, my mind would become completely empty."

“"Is that what they did to Bucky?" Nat questions and you shake your head.

"No, they used electric shock on Bucky." You return with a grimace. "With me, they couldn't hurt me permanently, so they needed something that would make me obey without me being able to heal. It was like being drunk, I guess, only much worse."

“I’m sorry.”

"It 's fine.” You say with a sad smile. “I was dumb enough to go there, i knew the risks.”

“Don’t say that.” Nat asks with a serious voice. “It’s was not your fault they torture kids.”

"And whose fault is it, then?" You retorted, upset, with yourself more than with Nat or anyone else. "My friends for being stubborn idiots? Of Stark for throwing a bomb in my building? I'm tired of looking for reasons to justify what happened to me. Nothing is enough, and I just want to see my friends."

Nat sighs lightly, and raises a hand on the table to reach for yours. You want to hold back the tears, but they are already falling before you can do so.

"I promise we will find your family." She assures you tenderly, and you feel your heart soar at the possibility.

You nod in understanding, taking a deep breath to stop crying.

Nat squeezes your hand, and it takes a moment for you to speak again.

"Wanda." You begin, and almost sob. It has been a long time since you have spoken that name. "She... She must have gotten her powers the same way I did." You say trying to remember everything you witness in Hydra at that moment. "I remember the soldiers talking about the twins being the only ones to survive the stone besides me."

"From Shield records, we know she can manipulate energy and Pietro can run really fast." Nat informs as she releases your hand. She sits thoughtfully for a moment."Maybe because you all got the magic through the same source, you can heal what she can do to Tony's mind. But that's not really my area, maybe you should talk to Thor as well."

You sigh lightly, wiping away the remainder of the tears falling on your face.

"I will." You say. "But I want to find Wan-the twins first." You correct yourself quickly, hoping Nat doesn't notice your flushed cheeks. She does, but says nothing.

"Try to get some rest." She asks as she picks up the teacups. "We have a party coming up, and then Thor is supposed to return to Asgard. I imagine you will want to have a little chat with Bucky before you return to Sokovia."

"I would go back to Sokovia right now if you ask me." You mutter making Nat chuckle lightly. "But I don't want to disturb any of you. I've waited for a long time, I can wait a little longer."

When Nat turns around after putting the glasses in the sink, she has a soft expression.

"You are not a nuisance here, kid." She assures with a smile. "We've just been caught a little by surprise with a new person, but it will be a pleasure to help you find the twins." She says and then has a mischievous expression. "I shouldn't tell you yet, but Steve is pretty excited about the whole thing. He wants you and the twins to join the team eventually."

"Really?" You ask in surprise and Nat just mumbles in agreement, still smiling.

She turns around on the countertop and before she leaves, she turns to you.

"If you ask my opinion, you seem to care a lot about both of them." She says. "I think that no matter how much time has passed, or if they are fighting on opposite sides, she will be happy to see you."

You swallow dryly, looking away.

Nat smiles one last time before leaving and you twiddle your fingers nervously, sitting for a while at the table before returning to your room.

With much to think about, you are surprised that you fall asleep almost instantly as you lie down.

//-//

The Hydra serum is still in your system.

You realize it in a rather embarrassing way actually.

After waking up on the couch, you went to the kitchen.

Bucky tells you that all the team is having a meeting and they will join you two soon, so you just lay against the wall while he reads the newspaper out loud for you.

The Avengers stay in the meeting room for a long time, and don't seem very pleased when they leave, but Tony seems intrigued.

You are surprised that he comes to talk to you as soon as he sees you.

"I didn't thank you for yesterday, kid." He says with a smile. "Whatever you did took away that bad feeling. Now I can work without having to hide that I'm trying to help."

You didn't quite know what to respond, but it didn't matter because Tony was patting you on the shoulder before smiling contentedly at the rest of the team.

"While I figure out a way to decipher the stone, which won't be hard since I'm incredibly smart." He begins his speech, causing the group to let out debauched laughter. "You guys can get busy with whatever old people do for fun. Except you Thunderlord, I'm going to need your help in the lab."

"Wow, Tony Stark asking for help." Thor teases and you watch the interaction with a smile on your lips, moving to join the table. "What a little magic doesn't do to your head, heh?"

"Don't tease me, Thundercat. I'll throw you out of this building, and you won't get any breakfast." He says with false seriousness and you laugh lightly as you pour yourself a cup of coffee. "Hey, kid, give me some too?"

"Ja, Master." You respond mechanically, perhaps even a little sleepily. The Avengers look at you with curiosity and confusion as they see you mechanically pour the coffee, and hand it to Tony, who looks shocked.

"He is not your master, kid." It is Natasha who breaks the silence, and you blink in confusion looking around for a moment.

"R-right." You say. "Sorry about that, Tony. Old habits I guess."

Tony thanks you for the drink, and you think the subject is going to die, but then Natasha keeps looking at you.

"Hey, Y/N, come over here." She asks and you move immediately. Shit. Natasha raises her eyebrow. "Take two steps to the left." Your body obeys. “Now to the right.” She asks and you obey again. This is terrible. The widow looks at you impressed.

"That looks bad." Tony quickly mocks before waving for Thor to accompany him to the lab, justifying that they should get to work soon.

Nat continues to look at you incredulously, but then Steve gets up from the table as well and snaps his fingers in front of your eyes, making you jump in fright slightly. He assumes a worried expression afterwards.

"You are obeying our orders as if we were your masters." He says. "Let's go see Bruce in the lab, he'll want to run some tests."

When you reach the lab, and Steve explains to Bruce what happened at breakfast, you are not surprised that he puts needles in your arm. You hope the news will be good when he finishes assessing your blood.

//-////-////-////-////-////-////-////-////-////-////-////-////-////-////-//

Tag List> @imapotatao / @aimezvousbrahms/ @ensorcellme/ @helloalycia || @mionemymind / @abimess / @stephanieromanoff / @yourtaletotell / @tomy5girls / @justagaypanicking / @thegayw1tch / @idek-5 // @myperfectlovepoem // @helloalycia // @ENSORCELLME // @aimezvousbrahms // @drpepperobsessed // @sighsam // @olsensnpm // @sxfwap // @table57 // @madamevirgo // @causeitswhatjesuswouldfreakingdo // @emptysince18x // @xastrydx || @yuhloversxx || @ymzki-haruki || @wouldirunofftheworldsomeday || @lostandsearching || @lezzzbehonesthere || @musicinourlips || @chaekhan || @diaryoflife

[starryhyuck]

good girls (m) | slytherin!hyuck

pairing: slytherin!donghyuck x ravenclaw!reader

words: 4k+

summary: donghyuck thinks you’re the most perfect, little goody-two-shoes head girl who’s ever walked the halls of hogwarts. that is, until he finds out you’ve fucked na jaemin in the back of the library.

genre: fluff, smut

warnings: public sex, overstimulation, creampies, degradation, riding

yes this is inspired by ‘good girls’ from 5sos.. how did you know?

“Leave me alone, Donghyuck.”

The Slytherin boy insists on following you, weaving his way through the shelves of the library simply just to annoy you. You’re sure Donghyuck has made it his goal to get under your skin this year, just as he has done in years prior. Luckily, the both of you are reaching the end of your time at Hogwarts, so it shouldn’t be long before he completely disappears from your life.

“What’s wrong? I’m just asking you for Potions help.”

You glare at him as you reach for another book you need to study. Since your father was the Potions professor, Donghyuck always assumed you would be able to help him cheat on upcoming tests. His version of help was always laced with just tell me the answer.

“I’m not telling you anything,” you hiss lowly, scurrying away in an attempt to get him to leave. You’re unsuccessful, of course, as he trails behind you when you reach your desk.

“Will you at least come to the Quidditch game this weekend?” He smirks, placing his hands on the table and leaning over to grin sleazily at you. You roll your eyes, getting situated in your seat as you open your Charms textbook.

“I’m not interested in watching Quidditch.”

He narrows his eyes. “Don’t lie. I saw you in the stands last weekend with Renjun.”

“Fine. I’m not interested in watching you play Quidditch.”

He scoffs. “Whatever. Just let me know when goody-two-shoes wants to come out of the library and have some fun.”

Donghyuck leaves you, finding Yangyang and Jeno in the Great Hall. The boys are laughing at the Slytherin table even though neither of them are actually a Slytherin. The rest of the table isn’t bothered by their presence.

Jeno snickers at the sight of Donghyuck’s long face when he sits next to him.

“Struck out again?”

“I didn’t strike out,” Donghyuck clarifies, although nobody is buying it. “It’s a slow process.”

“So you struck out?” Yangyang chuckles.

Donghyuck just rolls his eyes. “I’ll get there.”

Jeno glances back down at his Herbology textbook. “You should talk to Jaemin. I think they’re good friends.”

It’s hard to fathom that you would be friends with anybody, considering you spend most of your time in the library or helping your dad out in his office. Donghyuck’s tried really hard to get a sliver of your attention since First Year. He didn’t know exactly what it was that attracted him to you, but he supposes that you rejecting him kept spurring on his advances. You were also super fucking hot, and he almost passed out in Fourth Year when you showed up to the Yule Ball wearing a dress that still lingers in his dreams.

“How would Jaemin even-“

“Don’t ask me,” Jeno brushes off. “I’m studying.”

Donghyuck huffs before pulling out his own textbook. He supposes he should study too since you’re clearly not going to help him. He tends to zone out during most of his classes, mainly thinking about how sinful you look in your little skirt, how he could just rip your robes right off and-

Yangyang hits him upside the head. Donghyuck groans.

“Stop daydreaming and focus.”

The Slytherin boy grumbles but listens anyways, trying his best to focus on the History of Magic instead of imagining you bent over one of the desks in Potions class.

—

“If you’re not going because Donghyuck asked you to, then that’s just stupid. I don’t even understand why you’re in Ravenclaw.”

You glare at Renjun. He’s all dressed up in Ravenclaw gear, covered head to toe in a mountain of blue. You rarely attend Quidditch games unless Renjun drags your ass out there to watch.

“I don’t want to go today. Can’t you find someone else to come with you?”

“Nope. Only you,” he smiles. You’re not amused in the slightest bit. “Oh, I see. Is it because you don’t want to see Na Jaemin?”

“Jaemin and I are history, Renjun. Don’t need to dwell in the past.”

“You fucked him literally a month ago.”

You grab the nearest article of clothing near you and fling it at Renjun. Jisu grunts at the both of you.

“Holy fuck, I’m trying to study! Just go to the game and get the fuck out of our room!”

You grumble but listen to your roommate as she seems to grow more irate the longer Renjun stands in the doorway. He smiles in victory when you walk beside him to the Quidditch field. You ignore his glee while he babbles on about today’s game, wondering who’s going to reach victory.

You both find seats in the stands, and you feel embarrassed being here. After all, it was only a month ago when Jaemin fucked you in the Quidditch locker rooms. You managed to not get caught, but you wouldn’t hold it against Jaemin to tell the entire team what happened.

Jaemin wasn’t your boyfriend by any means. You two simply started to get closer this year and to release most of your frustration, you found yourself underneath him every once in a while. You ended it last month after Seojeong started to show an interest in dating him, and you didn’t want to interfere with the Hufflepuff’s advances. You haven’t spoken to Jaemin since then, only catching him eyeing you during Potions ever so often.

But now you see him as he mounts his broom, holding steady in the air as Slytherin’s Seeker. Your eyes are too focused on him to realize Donghyuck has been waving frantically for the last minute to try and get your attention.

Renjun elbows your side and you groan.

“What the fuck?”

He points to where Donghyuck is, just a few feet away from Jaemin in the air. You sigh and refuse to wave back at him, but Donghyuck still keeps his bright smile.

“Wouldn’t he be better as a commentator than a player?” You ask Renjun, knowing how fast Donghyuck can run his mouth.

“You’ll be surprised. Donghyuck’s really good. If I were on the team though, I think I would like to be Seeker,” Renjun muses.

You scoff. “Seeker? You can’t see for shit!”

You think Renjun’s about to murder you then and there, but the whistle is blown and the game sets in motion. He diverts his attention, cheering loudly for Ravenclaw.

As the game draws on, you see what Renjun means. Donghyuck is impeccably fast on his broom, whizzing by your Ravenclaw team to throw the Quaffle into one of the hoops. Your eyes widen and you lean over to Renjun.

“He’s pretty good.”

“I told you.”

You become mesmerized in the way Donghyuck zooms across the field, dodging any incoming bludgers and getting score after score for Slytherin. You would usually be focused on how Jaemin holds steady on his broom, trying to capture the Snitch.

You can’t take your eyes off Donghyuck’s figure, sweat dripping from his forehead as he eagerly throws the Quaffle into another hoop. Chenle, the commentator, praises him once again. You don’t even mind that your team is losing — Donghyuck seems determined to make them eat dirt.

You won’t lie either, he looks incredibly attractive like this.

“Fuck!” Renjun shouts in your ear. “Jaemin found the Snitch!”

It’s only mere seconds before Chenle declares victory for Slytherin, and the sea of green leaps up to cheer. Renjun grumbles, hanging his head in his hands as you laugh. The rest of Ravenclaw is just as dejected as him, filing out of the stands and mumbling about how no one can stop Donghyuck once he’s on the field.

“Come on, champ,” you encourage him, trying to pull the small boy up from his seat. Renjun sighs as he follows you and since you two are one of the last ones to leave the stands, you catch the Slytherin team leaving the locker rooms and bouncing with joy to go to their after party.

Donghyuck’s eyes light up when he sees you and you quickly try to detour, tugging Renjun along with you. Donghyuck calls out your name and you sigh, turning back around to face him. He looks like a dream if you’re being honest, fresh out of the showers and beaming at his victory.

“You came!”

You cough awkwardly. “Renjun dragged me here.”

“Impressive what you did out on the field,” Renjun nods in acknowledgment. You can only imagine how hard it was for him to choke out a compliment, considering Renjun hates when Ravenclaw loses.

Donghyuck nods back. He turns his attention to you. “Coming to the after party?”

“We’re not in Slytherin,” you mention, pointing to the blue colors both you and Renjun are wearing. “Plus, you just killed our Quidditch team’s reputation.”

He smirks. “True, but I’m sure no one cares if you’re from a different house as long as you celebrate. At least, I don’t care if you’re a Ravenclaw.”

Renjun clears his throat at Donghyuck’s attempt at flirting. He nudges your side when Jaemin leaves the locker rooms, his hair a newly dyed blonde as he combs his fingers through it.

You quickly grab Renjun’s wrist. “Um, we’ll decline. See you later!”

You both scurry away before Jaemin has a chance to see you, leaving Donghyuck flustered at your rejection. Jaemin comes up to swing his arm around Donghyuck’s shoulder.

“Why are you still here? I thought you would be off to the party by now.”

Donghyuck sighs. “Tried my luck with Y/N but she just hates me.”

Jaemin freezes at the sound of your name. He coughs a little. “Are you talking about the Ravenclaw?”

Donghyuck nods and the two begin walking back to their common room. “Yeah, I’ve been trying to get her to open up to me but I guess she’s really not interested.”

“Um, do you know that we used to be a thing?”

Donghyuck fully stops in his tracks. “What?”

Jaemin looks extremely flustered now in front of his friend. “She kind of ended it a month ago. But we used to, um, be together all the time.”

“Be together how?” Donghyuck narrows his eyes.

“I don’t need to spell it out for you, Donghyuck.”

He folds his arms across his chest. “I think you do. As far as I know, Y/N barely has any friends as is so I find is unbelievable that she would open herself up to you.”

Jaemin flushes at the implication, recalling exactly how many times you’ve ‘opened up to him.’ He hasn’t caught any feelings for you and he knows it goes the same way around, but your friendship from before is completely broken. You two can barely be in the same room together without feeling the tension.

“You don’t know her very well then,” Jaemin remarks, wanting to end the conversation as quickly as possible. He honestly didn’t know Donghyuck expressed an interest in you until now. “Let’s forget about what I said and have a good after party, okay?”

Jaemin tugs Donghyuck along but Donghyuck can’t stop thinking about you.

Specifically, you underneath the blonde boy, moaning and thrashing in his hold while Jaemin relentlessly pounds into your tight hole.

Fuck.

—

“Sorry, we’re saving this seat for- What the fuck?!”

Jeno and Yangyang are both floored by their friend’s new appearance, wide eyed as Donghyuck takes his seat next to them in the Great Hall. The Slytherin boy says nothing, diving into his breakfast without a word.

Jeno leans closer to him and whispers. “Who are you?”

Donghyuck glares at him. When he found out about you and Jaemin on Saturday, he had a little bit of a meltdown. His roommate, Shotaro, watched in confusion as Donghyuck paced back and forth for hours. Shotaro was even more befuddled when Donghyuck made the impulse decision to buy blonde hair dye, matching the same shade as Jaemin’s.

He didn’t expect to look so different, but with the way Jeno and Yangyang were staring at him, it was as if he became another person.

“I wanted to do something new,” Donghyuck shrugs, offering his explanation. The two of them are silent after that, both exchanging glances with one another.

Yangyang clears his throat after a few minutes. “Did you lose a dare?”

“No,” Donghyuck hisses. “What? Don’t I look good?”

Both of them avert their gaze and Donghyuck narrows his eyes. His stare wanders over to the Ravenclaw table, where you’re currently eating with Renjun and Jisu. His heart thumps in his chest while he watches you giggle at something your roommate said, leaning on her side for support. His trance is broken by the person he wants to see the least.

“Woah. What happened to you?”

Jaemin takes his seat next to Yangyang, eyebrows raised at Donghyuck’s new look.

“Nothing.”

His curt response makes Jaemin even more amused, and Jeno chuckles.

“Maybe Y/N likes blonde guys. Remember, Jaem? When you two were in the library and you said-“

Jaemin throws his fork at Jeno and hits him square in the forehead, causing the Hufflepuff to immediately glare and lunge for the Slytherin across the table. Yangyang tries his best to break the two up while Donghyuck’s mind drifts to Jeno’s statement.

The library? The place where you’re holed up all day, studying to get the best grades in every single subject? Did you let Jaemin take you against one of the bookshelves? Did you sit on his cock while you both pretended to read at the table.

Fuck. You were far from the good girl he always pictured you as.

Donghyuck stands wordlessly, ignoring Jeno and Jaemin’s squabble as he walks out of the Great Hall. He finds himself sitting at your table in the library, patiently waiting for your arrival. He doesn’t give a fuck about attending classes today, he needs to know the answers to his questions.

And so he waits. Surprisingly, he actually manages to get some studying done. Maybe the library wasn’t so bad.

He finally sees you during lunch period, watching as you walk in and smile softly at those who pass you. Your figure immediately retreats to the Potions section, and Donghyuck is quick to follow after you. He spots you standing on your tiptoes trying to grab one of the textbooks on the top shelf.

He approaches you with light footsteps, and you jump five feet in the air when you hear his voice.

“Did you do it here?”

“W-What?”

Donghyuck’s eyes are glazed over, dark as they scrutinize you. You feel small underneath his heavy gaze, and you try to ignore the beam of pleasure that shoots straight to your core. You almost didn’t recognize him with his newly dyed hair, and you won’t deny that he looks fucking hot.

He takes a step closer to you, trapping your body between him and the bookshelf. You shudder when he runs his finger down your arm.

“Did you lift your skirt up for Jaemin here? Let him take you in public?”

You gulp, avoiding his eyes. “H-How do you know about that?”

He growls, and the sound causes a gush of wetness to seep out of your core. “So it’s true? Little Ravenclaw princess is nothing but a common whore? Pretends to be all studious but ends up getting railed for everyone to see?”

You whimper. “It’s not like that- I-“

Your voice catches in your throat when his hand drifts up the expanse of your thighs, fingers dangerously close to your dripping cunt. You quickly survey the area, afraid someone will see the both of you. Most students are eating lunch in the Great Hall but there are still a select few who have chosen their studies over meals. When you did this with Jaemin, it was well past curfew and the library was completely empty.

Despite the fact that you could get caught at any time, it only makes you want him more.

“Touch me, please,” you beg, gripping his forearm.

His eyebrows shoot up at your immediate compliance. “You really are just a little slut, aren’t you? So fucking needy. Before this, you wouldn’t even give me the time of day. You’re just that desperate, aren’t you? Want your small pussy to be filled?”

You quickly nod, way past the point of preserving your dignity.

He flips you over, pressing your cheek against the wood. You whine when his fingers run over your clothed slit.

“So wet, baby,” he whispers, trying his best to conceal your garbled moans with his hand. “Is this for me? Or for Jaemin?”

“For you,” you choke out. “For you, Hyuck.”

He groans at the nickname, moving your panties aside and pushing a finger into you. Your mouth opens in a silent cry as your fingers dig into the shelves. Donghyuck’s breath is hot and heavy in your ear, and he can’t believe you’re letting him take you like this. He wonders what would happen if word got around to your father, who would fail Donghyuck in Potions for sure.

He doesn’t really care at this point, especially when your warm walls are clenching around his finger.

“So pretty for me,” he murmurs, pushing another digit inside. “Want to see you fall apart, baby.”

His other hand comes up to tug at your hair so he can see your expression. You already look completely fucked out and he’s barely done anything to you. He knows he doesn’t have a lot of time before the next period starts, so he quickly moves to unbuckle his belt. His fingers slip out of you and you cry at the loss.

You get more excited at the sound and he chuckles. “Dreamed about this for years,” he whispers. “This pussy is mine now, baby. Won’t let anyone else have it.”

You feel his tip prodding at your entrance, and he waits for your go-to. You decide to slip it in yourself, reaching to grasp his base and push back on his cock. He’s thicker than you thought, and the stretch fills you whole.

Once Donghyuck realizes how desperate you really are, his hands fly to your hips, bottoming out inside you. You both groan lowly, his length pressing against your sweet spot.

He’s about to start thrusting until he hears voices approaching. You both start to panic, and Donghyuck quickly directs you to grab a book from the top shelf while he rearranges his robes. To anyone else, it looks like Donghyuck is helping you grab a book, maybe just a little closer than normal.

Three Hufflepuff students pass by, heading to the History of Magic section of the library. They pay no attention to you two, and Donghyuck sighs in relief. You, however, are still wanting a nice fuck.

You whine and clench around his cock.

“Fuck, baby,” he hisses. “We almost got caught but you don’t care, do you?”

You shake your head and he chuckles lowly. He resumes fucking you, trying his best to keep his grunts to a minimum. It’s difficult, especially when the sound of his balls slapping against your ass increases in volume.

His hands move around your middle, pulling you closer to his chest. “Please,” you beg.

“Baby wants to cum?” You frantically nod and he laughs breathily. His fingers grip your breast over your tight button up shirt, tilting your head so he can kiss you. His tongue slips into your mouth and you whine, driving closer and closer to the edge.

You fall before you know it, Donghyuck trying to keep you quiet as you orgasm around him. The feeling of you creaming around his cock brings him waves of pleasure, and he tries to pull out of you until you stop him.

“Inside,” you plead.

He short circuits at your request, mind going blank. He cums without warning, shooting ribbons of his cum deep inside your waiting womb. You moan at the feeling of him filling you up.

When you both come to, he kisses your neck.

“You’re such a dream,” he mumbles. “Can you stop ignoring me now?”

You laugh. He helps you look presentable, pulling your panties back on even though his cum leaks out of your hole. He rearranges your skirt and tucks himself back into his pants.

You turn around and kiss him.

“You’re really hot when you play Quidditch.”

He smirks. “I knew it.”

“Shut up,” you roll your eyes. Then, your voice grows small. “Can we do this again tonight?”

He grins. He wraps an arm around your waist and presses his lips to yours again.

“Are you mine? Not Jaemin’s?”

You scoff. “I just let you cum inside me. I never let Jaemin do that.”

His eyes sparkle. “Good girl.”

(bonus scene because i’m horny)

“Where are you going?”

Jisu raises an eyebrow at you as you grab one of the candles from your nightstand, ready to meet Donghyuck. You shrug and smile at her.

“Getting some good dick.”

She giggles and winks at you. “Sounds fun. Be safe!”

You slip out of your room quietly, trying your best to be as silent as possible. You’ve snuck out many times before after curfew, being able to tell your Ravenclaw prefects that you desperately needed to cram some extra studying in. They all thought you wouldn’t receive any major discipline anyways since your father was the Potions professor.

You sneak into the Slytherin common room, using the password Donghyuck gave you earlier. The Slytherin prefects were both asleep on the ground, as expected.

Donghyuck waited for you on the sleek emerald couch, smiling as he spotted you. He patted his thighs so you could take your seat, and you giggled, placing the candle on the table and sitting in his lap.

“Missed me?” He murmured, wrapping his arms around you and pressing kisses to the side of your neck.

“Saw you like two hours ago.”

He frowns. “And you haven’t missed me since then?”

You roll your eyes and whine. “Hurry. Want your cock.”

“Will you let me take you to Hogsmeade this weekend?”

“If you win the next Quidditch game.”

He smirks. “Deal.”

You quickly move to unbuckle his belt, sinking to your knees as he watches you carefully. You moan when his cock springs up, tip bright and red. He’s heavy in your hand when you take him, licking a stripe up from his base to the tip. He groans when you bring his head into your mouth, sucking gently.

Holy fuck. You deepthroat him in no time, sinking down on his cock until you choke. He watches with hazy eyes as you struggle to suck him, his length filling your windpipe.

“Too big for you, baby? Can’t handle my big cock?”

You shake your head in defiance. You start bobbing your head up and down, determined to give him the best blowjob of his life. Donghyuck’s eyes dart up when he hears the sound of a door creaking, locking eyes with Jaemin. You haven’t heard anything — too preoccupied with sucking his dick.

Jaemin’s eyes widen when he spots you two before he smiles, throwing Donghyuck a wink and a thumbs up. He retreats back to his room and Donghyuck can’t take the wait any longer.

“Hands and knees.”

You pull away from him, spit dribbling down the side of your mouth. You follow his orders, pulling down your pajama pants and bending over the side of the couch. He delivered a harsh slap to your cheek, and you whimper.

“Pretty girl,” he praises as he lines himself up to your entrance. “Little cock hungry cumslut. What would people say if they saw you? Good Ravenclaw desperate for cum?”

“Want them to see me,” you blubber. “Want them to see how well I take your cock.”

He grunts. “Fuck. Dirty little minx.”

He practically rips your panties in half, fingers digging into your flesh as he takes the first thrust. Is it even possible that his cock grew bigger? He’s hitting your sweet spot with no problem from this angle, sending sparks flying in your tummy. You swear you can feel him in your throat if it was possible.

“Take my cock, baby,” he hisses. “Fuck. See what I do for you? Been chasing after you for years thinking you were a little innocent schoolgirl but turns out I just needed to give you my cock and then you would be all mine. Even dyed my hair to this stupid fucking color for you.”

“I-I like y-your hair,” you cry.

“Yeah? Because it looks just like Jaemin’s, doesn’t it?”

“I don’t give a fuck about Jaemin. Only want you.”

He’s satisfied by your answer and moves his hand down to pinch your clit. The sensation sends you flying into your first orgasm and you sob as you cum around his cock.

He slips out of you, sitting down on the couch and patting his thighs again. “Come on. Show me how much you want it.”

Shakily, you rise and straddle Donghyuck’s hips, slowly sinking down on him. His girth stretches you even more as you ride him, twisting and turning your hips until you feel the burn. You don’t care if you look like a needy slut at this point — he’s made you this way.

You never fucked Jaemin with this much fervor, usually letting him lazily thrust into you before you both reach your climax. He also never stared at you the way Donghyuck is looking at you now, eyes dark as he watches you fall apart on his cock.

“Gonna cum again, baby?”

“Y-Yes,” you answer back, closing your eyes as you feel pleasure overtake your body. You can barely think straight as he fucks you so good.

You orgasm again before you fully realize it, wetness dripping down your thighs and onto his cock.

“Such a pretty cunt,” he groans. “Where do you want my cum?”

“Inside, inside,” you respond, observing as he chases his own high. He stills inside of you, cumming deep inside your tummy.

You kiss him, slipping your tongue into his mouth while you feel his cum drip out of you.

“I better win that Quidditch game.”

You giggle. “You better.”

“What’s gonna happen if you get pregnant?”

You shrug. “I’m taking those muggle pills Jisu gave me so I think we’re fine. It’s not like it’s going to stop you from cumming inside me anyway.”

“True. Second round in the Astronomy Tower?”

“I can barely walk.”

“I’ll carry you.”

[in-ky]

An Old Scent [1] - Negan x Reader (A/B/O AU)

Summary: During summer break, you decide to come back home to visit your dad, Rick. Over the course of your stay, you realize that your dad's friend is pretty hot.

Warnings: Eventual smut, A/B/O dynamics, cheating, age gap, Negan

A/N: yay first fic! this will have four parts! i hope everyone enjoys. this is an au where the apocalypse never happened. 3.2k words

I squinted as I stepped out into the bright Virginian sun. People swarmed all around me, creating the steady hum of airport ambience that I had grown accustomed to over the years. I had just gotten off a four-hour flight home from college and all I wanted to do was shower and curl up in bed. But I couldn't. Oh, no. First I had to endure a fun thirty-minute car ride with my best friend since second grade. I scanned the curb in front of me for her small black car and caught sight of a tall woman waving at me. I grinned and walked forward, tugging along my baggage behind me.

"Ugh, it's so good to see you, Bee." I sighed as I enveloped my friend into a large hug. She let out a laugh and swayed us gently.

"It's good to see you, too," She hummed, rustling my hair "I forgot how short you were." Bee was an alpha; tall, muscular, and very quick to remind me of our differences. Of course, it was in a 'joking with love' kind of way. I was an omega; small, rounded, and very quick to punch her gently in the abdomen.

"I forgot how much of a jerk you are." I quipped, huffing and wheeling my bag to her trunk.

"Oh, come on, babes, don't be like that," Bee laughed, opening the driver side door and waiting for me to walk back to my side. "Now get in, we've got a lot of catching up to do."

---

"How are your heats going?"

"Jesus, that's what you want to start with?" I scoffed, crossing my arms over my chest. Bee shrugged.

"We don't have to if you don't want to," She clarified, turning out onto the street "I'm just saying, I know they've gotten pretty bad as we've gotten older. Did you try out those tips I sent you?"

"Yea, I did," I said quietly, looking at the trees rushing by on the side of the highway "They worked for a while but..."

"But you need an alpha," Bee sighed, finishing the sentence for me.

"That's the plan for this summer," I agreed "Might finally settle down."

"You know, I'm always here if you need me." She said with a wink. I scoffed at her.

"I'm not that desperate," I laughed, shoving her lightly "Not yet, at least."

"Anyone take your interest back in Colorado?"

"Not really," I hummed, tilting my head in consideration. "There was this one guy. We dated for a few months but towards the end he became a total knot-head. He couldn't keep his hands off me. I thought it was cute at first, but after I started to miss a few classes...well, that shit got old pretty quickly." Bee made a disgusted noise.

"Ugh, men," She grunted, wrinkling her nose "I'm glad I never went through that phase. I'm perfectly happy with chicks, thank you very much. Much less of a pain in my ass."

"Oh, they're not so bad," I smirked "I think it's just alphas in general." She glared at me momentarily and I stuck my tongue out at her. We drove in a comfortable silence for a few moments, just enjoying each other's company. That was always something I loved about Bee. We never had to fill every second with chatter, we could just exist together in the same space and be just as content. She started to hum along to the song that buzzed softly from the radio and my eyes tracked a hawk. Soon enough, we reached our exit and Bee turned the car onto a smaller road, starting the countdown to my arrival home.

"Are you excited to see your dad?" Bee asked, killing the silence.

"Yea, I am," I smiled. We hadn't always had the best of relationships, but the distance that college gave had done wonders for us. A few texts and calls had worked perfectly for us. When he invited me to stay a few weeks during summer I gladly accepted. I wanted to see just how well our relationship had strengthened. Plus I knew he really needed someone.

"How's he doing?" There was genuine concern in Bee's voice. A few months ago, my mom had revealed that she had been having an affair with one of dad's work buddies. She left with him and took my brother down to Georgia.

"I think he's okay. But you know dad, he's not really an emotions guy. He was starting to get some closure but then the divorce papers came in the mail. That really hurt him," I told her, twisting a strand of my hair around my finger. "I just don't know how Lori could do that to him, you know? She won't even let Carl up to visit. The new baby's cute, though. Looks just like Shane." Bee hummed in acknowledgement.

"Well, tell him I said hi, alright?"

"Will do." A few more seconds of silence passed. Until we stopped at a light. Bee looked up and spotted a billboard that sported a very familiar, very handsome face.

"Holy shit!" Bee shrieked, slapping my arm.

"Ow, what the hell?" I hissed, grabbing my shoulder. She pointed frantically at the sign.

"That guy! Isn't that, shit- the hell's his name?" Pulling my eyes from my lap, I let them settle on the object of her excitement. All of the color drained from my face. It was an add for a law firm. There was an old geezer posing proudly on the left, and to his right, was the man who haunted my wet dreams for the majority of high school.

"Negan." I gulped.

"Yea, your dad's hot friend you never shut up about." Bee groaned, pressing on the gas and moving us away from the sign. Negan was a lawyer/make-shift-law-professor and baseball coach at the local community college. He had a sort-of contract with my dad's department. Many times I had come home after school to the two of them puzzling out a case on the kitchen table. Negan was an alpha of alphas, something that got my little omega heart (and other things) pumping until I couldn't breath. His humor and dominating persona made me blush a deep crimson color any time I saw him. Sometimes I would spend hours sitting on the stairs just listening to him talk to my dad. His voice was something else. I had gushed to Bee about him countless times during our times at high school. But I hadn't seen him since my graduation party.

"I wonder if you'll see him again," Bee teased, nudging me again to pull me out of my trance of memories. Then, she did a dramatic gasp. "What if he's your mate?" It was my turn to slap her in the shoulder.

"He's older than my dad!" I squealed, burying my now-blushing cheeks in my hands.

"You're an adult I don't think it matters."

"I think he's engaged."

"Just 'cause there's a goalie doesn't mean you can't scoooore." Bee pulled a face at me and I returned her grimace.

"Whatever, you're lucky we're almost at my house." I huffed, falling back into my seat with my arms crossed over my chest.

"Oh, yea, omega? What are you gonna do?" I rolled my eyes as she laughed off my grumpiness. We rolled to a stop in front of my driveway and a leaned in to give her a kiss on the cheek.

"Thanks so much, Bee, I really appreciate you," I grinned, popping open the door.

"No problem, babes," She winked, unlocking the trunk "But I swear to the gods, you better fucking call me and give me updates on everything, especially if you run into Mr. Hotcakes." I rolled my eyes once more and promised her I would before closing the door. I retrieved my bag and gave her a wave as she drove down the street. When she was out of view, I took a deep breath and turned around, walking up the driveway to the front door.

I knocked heavily on the dark oak door. While I waited for someone to answer, I decided to look around at the home I had left behind about a year ago. My childhood home had changed now and then over the years, but there were still some iconic pieces of memories in the front yard that could never be forgotten. My personal favorite was Eddie the garden gnome. He was a standard gnome: small and stout with a large white beard that led into a pointy red hat. His eyes were shut and his mouth was curved into a smile. However, he was missing a nose. I grinned as I recalled the unfortunate mishap that caused Eddie to become deformed. I was about twelve, and carl was five. He had gotten a kid's baseball from Negan for his birthday and had begged me to teach him how to play, since I was on the local softball team at the time. I relented and set it up in the front yard. Eddie was our outfielder. Eddie didn't have a mitt. Well, he did, but it was his face. Carl absolutely smashed the first pitch I tossed at him and hit poor Eddie right in the face, shattering his round, pink nose into pieces. Carl bursted into tears and I had to promise him that he did not in fact kill our precious protector of our house. Lori ran out frantically and comforted her son before giving me a thorough chewing out for damaging Eddie. We never used the set again. That she knew of, anyways. Negan always let us play in his yard, though. I smiled at the memory, but the clicking of the lock to the door pulled me from my train of thought. The door swung open and I was met with the smiling face of my father.

"Sweetie, I'm so glad you made it!" He laughed, pulling me in swiftly and squeezing me tight.

"It's good to see you too, dad." I croaked, letting out a small chuckle. I tapped on his shoulder as a signal for him to let go.

"How was the flight?" He asked as he stepped out to grab my bag. I told him it was good but that the screaming kids had given me a bit of a headache. He gave a small laugh and gestured for me to enter. I thanked him and he rolled my bag in behind me. We exchanged a few words but as soon as I walked through the kitchen into the doorway of the living room I was hit by a wall. Not literally, no, but rather a wall of overwhelming scent. It was a delicious swirl of campfire and whiskey, with a hint of cigarettes and leather. I paused for a moment, my eyes forced closed and my lungs taking a deep breath of the intoxicating air. Colors danced across my eyelids. My whole body was flooded with warmth and my toes tingled. I felt safe and calm, and there was something else; something deep within my stomach that I couldn't quite identify, something I never felt before. My eyes snapped open when I felt my father's hand rest firmly on my shoulder.

"I hope you don't mind, sweetie, but I invited company over while I was waiting for you to arrive," He smiled at me. I got a good look at him then. He looked the same, his hair was a bit longer, a bit greyer. But his eyes were different. They were darker, rounder, rawer. I gave a soft smile and told him it was fine. He guided me into the living room. It was then I realized where that deadly smell was coming from. Or, rather, who it was coming from. "Negan, you remember my girl." In that moment, I held my breath as I scanned Negan. He looked fucking amazing, just as he always had. Perfect dimples guarding a charming smile, all surrounded by a gorgeous salt and pepper beard. His hair was longer than it was when I had left, not slicked back, but it still framed his face perfectly. Negan's body was draped casually over the sectional couch, legs crossed at the ankle on the ottoman. His arms were on the top of the couch and his wrists were dangling. He knew he was hot. That bastard. I suddenly became aware of his eyes raking over my form and I shifted from one foot to the other.

"'course I do, Rick," Negan said, voice silky and deep. I couldn't help but let a small shudder run down my spine. All I wanted to do was kneel down in front of him and curl up at his feet. I forced my inner omega down, shaking the thought from my head. "How could I forget the little slugger?" I cringed inside at the nickname. Especially the use of the word 'little'. I begged that he didn't still see me as the kid down the street. Instead as a grown woman. A grown omega.

"Hi, Negan." I greeted with a small smile, swallowing to relieve my dry throat. Now that I was next to him, his scent was clogging all my senses. I gripped onto the couch and lowered myself onto the cushion, hoping to ground myself. It helped, just barely. My heart was pounding, my instincts telling me to submit to this man in front of me. Why, though? Why now? He had never smelled this good before. No alpha had. Was I getting close to my heat? I did have a stomach ache, but that could be from Negan alone.

"Hey, sweetheart. How's college goin'?" Negan asked, sipping on his drink. He kept eye contact with me the whole time. Rick handed me a glass of soda and I thanked him.

"It's good!" I said after taking a sip, thankful for the hydration in my coarse throat "Towards the end it got a little hectic, but I was able to stay on top of everything, thankfully."

"You're studying film, right?" He asked, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees.

"That's right," I grinned, crossing my legs to relieve some of the pressure the movement caused to build up in my lower abdomen "You still teaching law?" This caused him to chuckle. Literally music to my ear.

"If that's what you want to fuckin' call it." Negan sighed, falling back to his original position, hands resting in his lap "I talk, the kids kinda listen. I just do it for the coaching job, really. You remember how much I love that damn sport, right?"

"Baseball?" I asked, raising a brow "You mean the only thing you talked about at all of the Thanksgiving and Christmas dinners you were invited to?"

"Touché." Negan grinned. Goddamn that smile. Butterflies erupted in my chest, beating hard against my ribcage, begging to throw myself at his chest and bury myself in him. Rick cleared his throat and smiled at me to get my attention.

"I want to know more about your college experience!" He beamed, rubbing a hand through his beard "Any special alphas you've got your eyes on?" I heard Negan choke slightly on his whiskey. A small bubble of pride rose in my chest. I laughed at his words.

"Dad, I don't think Negan wants to hear about my love life."

"Shit, doll, I don't mind," He grumbled "I don't get to hear any drama now-a-days"

"What do you mean?" I giggled, tilting my head "You argue for a living. Your job is to literally deal with drama."

"Yea, but that's complex drama," He growled, waving his hand dismissively "I wanna hear simple, schoolgirl 'he loves me, he loves me not' kind of bullshit."

"Well sorry to disappoint," I snorted, running a hand through my hair "but no, there's no one I have an eye on." Dad's smile turned into a frown.

"Shame." I heard Negan whisper. I wasn't sure if I was supposed to hear it. It was quiet, barely above his breath, and he said it while twirling his whiskey, following the words with a large gulp.

"You really should start looking, dear." Dad said with a sigh "You know it only gets harder as you get older."

"Dad please, I don't..." I cut him off "Listen, I appreciate you trying to understand this stuff, I really do, but I don't really want to talk about it with my father." He looked at me with an understanding smile.

"Sure," He nodded "But if you ever need anything, anything at all, you just let me know, alright." I nodded.

"Well, this sure has been fun, Ricky-boy," Negan grinned, getting to his feet and stretching his arms far above his head. "We do have that big court case in the mornin', though, and I need my shut-eye."

"Big case, eh?" I asked, rising from my seat as well. Dad nodded and excitement sparked in his eyes.

"You should come! It's an open court and I would love for you to see what I do. I know you always wanted to as a kid, but your mom made you wait until you were older. Well, now's the perfect time!" He rambled, grasping my shoulders.

"W-Well, I dunno, I don't want to be a distraction," I stumbled, taken aback by my father's display of enthusiasm. I turned to Negan, as if asking for permission. He just laughed.

"Oh-o, doll, I don't get distracted. Not in there, not anywhere. Don't you worry about a goddamn thing. You should come, Rick seems like he really wants you to."

"Okay, then," I grinned, nodding in commitment "I'll see you there in the morning then." I looked up to Negan and we locked eyes for a brief moment. But in that moment, something within me quivered. He brushed up against me and smirked down at me.

"See you tomorrow, sweetheart. It was nice to see you. You're lookin' great." It took all my willpower not to let out a whimper as he walked past me, taking his glorious scent with him.

My dad said that he should also get some rest, but that I could stay up as long as I wanted to. I was pretty wiped from my flight so I opted to follow him up the narrow staircase, tugging my bag behind me. I hugged him goodnight and stepped into my room. It hadn't been touched since I left last summer. The forest green bedspread was still perfectly tucked into the mattress and two plump pillows were perched at the head of the bed. My muscles ached for the soft release of sleep. I put my suitcase down by my dresser, taking a moment to smile at some old photos of me and Bee as kids. I showered and brushed my teeth before getting into the comfortable bed. I looked up at the ceiling and giggled softly at the glow-in-the-dark stars shining overhead. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. I wasn't thinking of anything in particular, but for some reason, all of my dreams were plagued by the sweet smell, sound, sight, feeling, and taste of Negan.

[alj4890]

I have an ask? What if Liam got Riley pregnant when they first met in New York? Would he still have to go through the social season? Would she have to raise a baby on her own would Liam find a way to help?

Ooooohhhh. Interesting. That would be quite the conundrum for them, wouldn't it? Especially since the social season starts the very next day after he visited her bar. Hmmm. Let's see what I can do with that time frame. I'm going on the assumption that the social season lasts at least three months with all the parties and traveling they do. Which will help out with the pregnancy part 😉 I think she would still go and take part in the social season since she wouldn’t know she was pregnant yet, but it would definitely alter how things end in book 1.

Masterlist

@gkittylove99 @darley1101 @krsnlove @kingliam2019 @texaskitten30 @yourmajesty09 @mom2000aggie @ofpixelsandscribbles @twinkleallnight @lodberg @twinkleallnight @amandablink @neotericthemis  @mm2305

Aftereffects

Three months earlier...

"Well?" Riley tilted her head to study Liam's profile. "What do you think?"

He cleared his throat. Lips parted, yet no words were formed. Liam had so many emotions hitting him all at once that a mere stranger had made his one wish come true.

His eyes went from the Statue of Liberty to the woman responsible for him being able to see it.

"I'm speechless." He lowered his head, lips curving in a shy smile. "I've never been so moved in my life than I am in this moment with you."

She smiled and turned her attention toward the iconic monument. "She's really something, isn't she?"

He turned toward Riley. His eyes traveled down her beautiful face softly lit by the dull light coming from the ferry they were on and the sliver of moonlight from above.

"Yes," he moved closer to her. "She really is."

Riley looked up at him. Her heart raced at the tender longing she saw in his eyes. He seemed so lonely. So in need of encouragement. So in need of affection.

Before he could step away, she snagged his lips in a tender kiss.

He froze for two seconds before crushing her to him. He allowed all the feelings he kept to himself pour out as a fuel to draw moans from her. The desperation he had been feeling since his brother abdicated didn't seem to exist around this woman.

His kisses traveled down her neck.

"Liam." She sighed when he returned to her mouth.

Her arms wrapped around his neck as he pressed her back against the railing.

"I don't want this night to end." He murmured.

It took a physical effort to stop.

"Neither do I." She cupped his cheek. "I know you leave tomorrow."

He nodded, already feeling the heavy yoke that was about to be thrust upon his shoulders.

"It's not quite tomorrow though." She kissed along his jaw as she whispered. "We can still enjoy the rest of tonight."

"Riley, I--you know I must choose--I couldn't do that and simply leave you to search for a bride." He felt guilty just thinking about it.

He would be the worst sort of cad possible if he were to spend the night in her arms.

He shouldn't have pursued her. The moment she had turned around and greeted him in the bar, he had thought of nothing else except getting to know more about her.

"I want you." She whispered. "If tonight is all we have, then let's make the most of it."

"You have no idea how much I want you." He kissed her once more, completely unable to resist her.

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

Two and a half months later...

Maxwell winced when he heard the noises coming from Riley's bathroom. Bracing himself, he timidly knocked upon the door.

"You okay in there, blossom?"

"What--" she heaved into the toilet, "do you think?"

"Maxwell!" Bertrand snapped. "What is the hold up. She should have been downstairs fifteen minutes ago."

His eyes widened at the sounds of vomiting.

"Is she ill?" He whispered.

Maxwell shrugged.

"She seemed fine last night." Bertrand thought over the past few days.

"She has been more tired than usual." Maxwell narrowed his eyes in concern. "And this isn't the first time I've heard her throwing up."

Bertrand's stern demeanor turned to worry. "You don't think she's..."

"Think she's what?" Maxwell asked.

"We have been pressuring her to wear the right clothes. I hope we haven't caused her to think she needs to lose weight." Bertrand explained.

Maxwell's eyes widened. He would never be able to forgive himself if he had made Riley think less of her natural beauty.

"Riley!" He anxiously knocked again when they heard nothing but silence. "Can we come in?"

"Sure." Her weak response was followed by her unlocking the door.

The brothers walked inside and saw her sitting in the floor.

Maxwell wet a rag and crouched beside her. He gently cleaned the sweat off her brow, his worry was now off the charts at the half hearted smile she gave him.

"Thanks." She lifted her eyes to Bertrand. "I'm sorry. I know I'm supposed to be outside for the--"

"Don't concern yourself with that." He tempered his usual gruff tone. "We must take care of you first."

Tears filled her eyes at how kind he was being. He wasn't berating her or telling her that House Beaumont needed her to win Liam. She wondered where this Bertrand had been hiding. Tears began to trickle down her cheeks as the brothers discussed ways to help her feel better.

He ordered Maxwell to pick her up and carry her to her bed.

As she settled back against her pillows, he called down to the kitchen and ordered a tray of soup, crackers, and tea to be brought up.

By the time he was finished, she was crying in full force.

"Riley!" Maxwell sat down on her bed and tried to hug her. "Please tell us what's wrong."

Bertrand reached for her hand. "You do know how lovely you are, right?"

Her eyes widened at that odd question.

"We think you shouldn't change at all." Maxwell added.

"Indeed. Many of the dresses in the boutique are," Bertrand's frown firmed as he tried to think of a way to keep her from thinking her body was at fault, "they aren't properly made. One can never go by sizes there."

"And you're size is perfect. Liam can't keep his eyes off you." Maxwell added. "In fact, you could probably add on some weight and be even more beautiful."

"Indeed." Bertrand latched on to that. "Size does not matter. It is what is on the inside that counts."

Riley lifted her head. "What are you talking about?"

"You're," Maxwell mimed vomiting.

"You must stop." Bertrand added. "You do not need to lose weight."

"I'm not doing it on purpose." She shook her head.

It touched her heart though that they wouldn't want her developing an eating disorder.

"I don't know what's caused this." She explained. "The weirdest smells and motions seem to set it off. Like yesterday, the smell of tomatoes had me running for a bathroom and I've always loved tomatoes."

"Could it possibly be your nerves?" Bertrand sat down at the foot of the bed. "The social season can take a toll on even the most seasoned noble."

"I don't think so." Riley mumbled. "It's like my energy has suddenly been depleted. Of course that could be because of the vomiting."

"So what caused it to start?" Maxwell asked.

"How long has it been going on?" Bertrand added.

"I don't know what set it off. It's been going on for a couple of weeks, but it is getting worse."

"Hmm." Bertrand and Maxwell shared a glance.

"Riley, I hope you don't think badly of me for asking," Bertrand struggled to inquire into something so personal. "But, have you, er...did you..."

She lifted her eyebrows in silent question.

"Before you joined us, were you involved with anyone?" He closed his eyes in embarrassment.

"Involved?"

"Any previous boyfriends or hookups before Liam?" Maxwell clarified.

"Oh!" Her cheeks heated with color. "No. I actually haven't been in a relationship for almost a year now." She lowered her eyes. "I had a bad relationship with a guy and decided to focus on myself once I got out of it."

Bertrand relaxed some. "A wise decision."

"So no one night stands?" Maxwell prodded.

"I've never been that type of..." Her eyes widened. She had been that type for one incredible night.

It was the driving force in making her decision to come to Cordonia in the first place.

"Oh no." She breathed. "The night I met you," her eyes held Maxwell's shocked gaze, "Liam and I sneaked away and..."

Bertrand shot up off the bed. "Wait here."

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

"We must be certain." Bertrand stressed. "The bloodwork must confirm what the test showed." His frown was fierce as he stood before the physician. "Discretion is a must in this situation."

"I'll have the results by this evening." The doctor replied. "And only I will run the lab work for Ms. Brooks."

"Here's my number." Riley scribbled it out quickly. "If I don't answer, please send a text and voicemail."

Once he was gone, she sagged back on the bed.

"What do we do now?" Maxwell asked.

"We have a ball to prepare for." Bertrand held up a silk dress. "We missed today's events, but we must make an appearance tonight. Everyone will begin to talk if we don't."

Riley nodded. Her mind though was whirling with the knowledge that she was pregnant.

How will Liam react? Will he be upset? Will he hate me for allowing it to happen? Will he think I'm trying to trap him?

How do I tell him?

Taking the dress, she forced herself to get ready.

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

"Have you seen Riley any today?"

Drake shook his head. "No. Why?"

"That's strange." Liam folded his arms.

He wondered if something was wrong. He hated that he couldn't spend every single moment with her. What if she had reached the end of her patience with this suitor situation?

He shook his head when Drake offered him a drink.

"You've got it bad." Drake teased.

"Got what?"

"Love."

"I do?"

"Are you saying you aren't in love with Brooks?" Drake smirked. "I've seen you with her. Ever since she showed up at the masquerade ball, you haven't looked at any of the other ladies trying to win you."

Liam couldn't help but smile over that. It was true. His night with Riley in New York had been the most magical of his life. Each moment he had spent with her since then all but reaffirmed that she was the only one for him.

He was thrilled at how the people of Cordonia had fallen for her. The press had only positive things to say about The American that had come to win his hand.

He could picture her smile when she approached him at the masquerade ball.

"I think we both know we have something special. One night together will never be enough for me." Riley whispered as he kissed her hand.

"I agree." He held her hand a moment longer than was deemed appropriate. "It isn't enough." His bright blue eyes shined against the silver demi mask. "Are you certain I'm worth going through these next few months? What if--"

"We end up with our happily ever after?" She finished for him.

He knew he had completely lost his heart in that moment. Our happily ever after. Her optimism that they could have that helped him through every step of this social season. She was the prize he knew he could claim once he passed the final hurdle to be king.

He spent his time in dull conversations daydreaming about their future. How beautiful she would be as a bride. How comforting she would be as they dealt with his father's illness and troubles of their small nation.

Then he dreamed of the family they would have. He hoped they had many children, each with her infectious smile and kindness.

He hoped she would say yes when he asked her to marry him. Even if they never had all these other dreams of the future, he would at least have her and her love.

Then all of this would be well worth it.

He did worry about his father's reaction to the time he spent in her company. Whenever Liam attempted to discuss his feelings about Riley, Constantine would point out another lady of the court. He wouldn't allow his son to go ahead and make a decision.

"You better head downstairs." Drake finished off his drink. "Can't have a ball around here without the prince."

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

"Any word yet?" Bertrand whispered.

Riley shook her head.

He softly cursed, causing her to burst into laughter.

"I'm sorry." She giggled when he shushed her. "But I would have bet a lot of money that you would never say that word."

He rolled his eyes. "Be that as it may, you should go mingle."

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

"Lady Riley?" Liam gently tapped her shoulder. "May I have this dance?"

She turned around with a start. "I'd love to."

He took her hand and placed it within the bend of his arm. "You look beautiful tonight."

She gently squeezed his arm. "Thank you." Her eyes lifted to his. "And you're as handsome as always."

"I don't know about that." He winked at her. "But as long as you think so, then I'm content."

He took her in his arms as a waltz began.

"Let's not spin as much as we normally do." She pleaded when he twirled her.

His brow furrowed. "Is something wrong?"

"No!" She said quickly. "Just, um, a little motion sickness from time to time."

"I see." He kept his gaze upon her face. "I missed you today."

"You did?"

"I always do whenever you're not around." He admitted with a sheepish grin.

"That's so--" she felt the vibration of her phone.

She stopped dancing, causing Liam to nearly trip

"Riley, is something--"

"Excuse me, I have to--that is--this is from--" she ducked out a nearby door before all her revelations came tumbling out.

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

She plopped down on the edge of a small couch and read the message from the doctor.

Hitting the link, she read the results of her bloodwork.

Her breaths came in and out in short gasps.

I'm really pregnant.

"Riley?"

All the color drained from her face as she looked up at Liam.

He shut the door to the ballroom and knelt before her.

"What is it?" He took her icy hand in his. "Is something wrong?"

She licked her dry lips and tried to tell him.

"Yes. No. I'm not sure."

He pressed a kiss to her hand. "Whatever it is, I will do all that I can to help you."

She blinked back tears. "Can I ask you something?"

"Anything." He laced his fingers with hers.

"Do you," she closed her eyes and took a deep breath, "do you love me?"

"I do." He admitted. "I had planned on telling you during the Coronation Ball."

"Really?" Her eyes narrowed. "I need you to be completely honest with me right now."

"I am." He lowered his gaze to their clasped hands. His thumb brushed against her skin. "I know I'm not supposed to say anything until then, but you are the one I will pick to marry," he looked up at her, "if you want to."

She bit down on her bottom lip. "Do you want children?"

"Yes, and not just for the continuation of the Rhys holding the crown." His smile gentled. "I want a family with you, selfishly for myself. I want all the holiday memories spent with them, watching them see the world with wonder, and seeing our traits passed on, especially yours." He chuckled. "Heaven help me if we have a daughter like you. I will be completely wrapped around her little finger."

Riley couldn't believe she was hearing all she needed to from him.

He really is Prince Charming. My Prince Charming.

"Do you remember the night we met?" She asked.

"How could I forget?"

She grimaced at the worry that still gnawed at her mind.

"My love," Liam sat down beside her. "Please tell me what troubles you."

"I had not been with anyone in a long time." She began. "I mean, no one for months when we spent the night together."

Liam merely listened, wondering where she was going with this.

"I didn't think in the heat of the moment. I should have. It was irresponsible, but I was so swept off my feet..." She took a deep breath. "And I found out today that I'm pregnant."

His fingers tightened around hers.

"I'm sorry. I know with the--"

"Pregnant?" Liam interrupted her. "You're certain?"

"The doctor just sent me the results of my blood work. That with the test I took and the physical exam confirms it." Her eyes widened when he suddenly stood up and took her into his arms.

The kiss he gave her weakened her knees. His arms held her as if she was the most delicate piece of porcelain.

"Marry me." He said between kisses.

"That kinda was the whole point of me coming here." She teased, once she saw how happy he was.

He smiled against her lips. "Is that a yes?"

"It is."

He stepped back and took hold of her hand. With quick strides he had them back in the ballroom.

Waving the conductor to stop the music, he held his hand up. "May I have your attention please!"

The court stilled as all eyes turned toward him.

Ignoring the hushed questions coming from his father, he settled his arm around Riley's waist.

"Lady Riley has made me the happiest man this evening. She has accepted my proposal of marriage and has told me that within a few months or so," he turned his adoring gaze upon her, "we will have an heir to the throne."

Constantine staggered back at this announcement. He had no idea the couple had become that close.

Regina called for champagne to be brought to all the guests as she embraced the young couple.

Liam held his glass up. He decided to force his parent to officially accept Riley in front of the entire court. He suspected that if he had not announced the fact they were expecting, that Constantine would find a way to break their engagement. He didn't know why he felt such unease with his father when it concerned Riley, but he wasn't going to leave anything to chance when it concerned her.

"Father? Would you like to give the toast?"

Constantine cleared his throat. Seeing no way around it, he stepped forward and lifted his glass. He hoped for Liam's sake that this woman would not be detrimental to his rule.

"To my son and the lady he has chosen. May they have all the happiness that I have found with my own queen and may their new family continue to serve Cordonia with grace and honor." He turned toward them. "To Liam and Riley!"

[tsukidrama]

the proverbial final straw

off the beaten path (a trnt side story)

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢѕ: implied recreational drug use

setting: the apartment building pre-cottage

ao3 | the road not taken | cottagecanon

← previous | next →

author's note: Connie is truly reader's bff i don't even intentionally plan it but when they're together the spirit of friendship flows through me and it just happens

word count: 1.6k

If there was one thing that you could choose to never deal with again, it’s communal showers. You’re so over it. It’s not necessarily the presence of other people that bothered you, at this point from years of military service it’s what you’re used to more often than not. You’ve learned when they’ll be the least busy, and when you can’t avoid the crowd, how to get clean and get out. 

The days of military barracks are nearly nostalgic now. It wasn’t to your liking to weave around a bunch of teenagers who kept stealing your shampoo, but it was so much worse here. Sasha and Mikasa bumming shampoo once every few weeks was one thing, but it’s entirely different when you see nearly a third of a brand-new bottle is gone after the first day. 

Somebody was using your fucking stuff without your permission, and that shit wasn’t cool. Was there some kind of unspoken code about these things? There were small caddies at the front of the showers, enough that one room per hall had enough shelf space to store things like your shower gels, soap, and towels. 

Are you supposed to hide your stuff in your apartment? You shouldn’t have to inconvenience yourself on the basis that a thief lives amongst you. What has happened to civility? If the pool of suspects weren’t literal refugees, you’d be tempted to lose your temper. 

The first time, it was your fault. You left the shampoo bottle on the ledge next to the showerheads, so you shouldn’t have been surprised. Except that you were, and that was your downfall. The very next night you notice that it’s easily halfway empty. You and Annie alone have lasted a month or more on one bottle. 

The rooftop continues to be your place of refuge when you need a minute to yourself. Other people notice your absence, and end up joining you one by one over time. It kind of crushes the hopes that you might get laid and at first, it really sucks. 

And then Connie buys a pack of suspiciously foul-smelling cigarettes from a wisened old man all too happy to share. Rooftop conversations got a lot more fun after that. 

Lately, your living situation was getting a bit more stressful. Or maybe you just weren’t getting enough sleep. It’s tiring to be constantly observed and hardly allowed any privacy. You’re getting sick of it and by the way that her grumpy moods start flaring up like clockwork around the louder times of day, Annie is, too. 

She talks about leaving the town sometimes. Where would you go? There’s not much outside of the municipality, just a lot of trees and jungle. If she had a decent proposal you’d go with her anywhere, as long as it gave you some room to breathe. There wasn’t really anything you’d miss too terribly if you left this town. 

Connie brings the pack like usual, and today it’s just him and Reiner. You’d caught a glimpse of them sneaking off up the stairwell – whatever you were in the middle of you could push off until later. You go up on the roof thirty seconds behind them while they’re still they’re lighting up. 

“Perfect timing,” Connie greets you, offering you the first hit on the spliff. You bow your head in appreciation as you inhale deeply. After a long hit, you pass it on to Reiner. 

“Come get me next time,” you insist, “you know how much our rooftop smoke sessions mean to me.” 

The cigarette makes it back to Connie. “Yeah, yeah. What about Annie, though?” he asks.

You pause before you take another hit. “Well, what about her?” 

“Doesn’t she want to smoke, too?” Connie clarifies as you inhale. 

You shrug and hold it in for a minute before you blow the smoke out. “She wanted to go take a shower.” 

Reiner laughs a little bit nervously. “Well, then you definitely should have invited her this time, then. All of our moms go in there around this time of day.” 

Everyone pauses, though even half a second is too much of a mental image. You let out an audible “Eugh,” and maybe it’s just what you’re smoking, but all three of you burst into giggles. 

“Aw, man, that’s fucking rough,” Connie shakes his head. 

As quickly as the laughter begins, it stops as the door to the roof bursts open again. Instinct kicks in and the three of you scramble. Reiner coughs and all the smoke in his lungs comes rushing out. 

He realizes halfway through a coughing fit that he’s still holding a lit joint. He puts his hand behind his back in an attempt to hide it. Connie hops in front of him, and you hop in front of Connie to try and create a triple shield of sorts. It probably stinks like a motherfucker up here, and besides, there’s visible smoke drifting forward in the wind. 

You’re the only one who relaxes when you see that it’s Annie. The initial rush of happiness you feel at the sight of her is quickly replaced by dread when it takes you a moment to notice what kept the boys tense all along. She’s soaking wet. 

Soaking wet, like she had thrown on clothes and come upstairs without drying herself off.

You step aside as she marches past you and Connie, going straight for the spliff in Reiner’s hand. She takes a long drag from it. 

Nobody else is brave enough to break the silence, so you bite the bullet. “Trouble in the showers?” you ask nervously. 

“We need to move out,” she replies with no emotion on her face. “I think I might be scarred for life.” She then sucks in another hit before she even exhales the first. 

Afterward, she skips Reiner altogether and hands it directly to you. A long moment passes as all three of you stare at her with growing anticipation. The cigarette burns away between your fingers as you’re still a bit frozen in place. 

Connie starts chuckling nervously under his breath, and you stamp on his foot to get him to shut up. After a few seconds, two thin lines of smoke stream out of Annie’s nostrils as she exhales. She glares at Reiner. 

“Mystery solved, Y/N. Karina Braun is the one stealing your shampoo. She’s also giving it to Mrs. Grice and somebody else. I didn’t see a face,” she grimaces and collects herself, “I saw everything BUT a face, to be honest…” 

Everyone is too stunned to speak at first, with different reactions ranging from uncomfortable shuffling, shock, and disgust. 

After a few seconds of silence, Reiner pipes up. “Well, damn… I can uh, give you some money when we go back downstairs to pay for a new bottle,” he offers sheepishly. 

Connie starts laughing nervously again. You can’t stop him or else you might crack and laugh, too. All of a sudden you remember that you have the cigarette. So instead, you suck down another hit and hand it off to the boy next to you. He clearly needs it too. 

When the joint makes its way to Reiner, he pauses before he smokes. He gives a nervous side-eye to you and Connie, who shake your head vigorously to dissuade him from speaking up again. 

He ignores you. “Seriously, I’ll buy you more shampoo. Or maybe I’ll buy some for my mom,” and as Annie continues staring daggers at him, he shrinks, “Actually, I’ll do both. Uh… sorry.” 

Before he has the chance to take a hit, Annie plucks the stump out of his fingers. “Too slow, shouldn’t have talked so much,” she warns, sucking in another massive inhale. Instead of giving it back to Reiner, she hands it to you. “We’re not taking your money, anyway. It’s not that big of a deal.” 

You awkwardly reach across the circle to pass the joint back to Reiner so he can have his turn. As soon as he has his lungs full of smoke again, Annie adds a completely out of pocket: “It’s payment enough to find out that your mom has better tits than you do.” 

All four of you bust out laughing while the poor blonde man once again hacks so hard that he can’t even protest. Between the unexpected comment and the fact that Reiner looks so genuinely offended by it, it sends you hysterics. Connie throws an arm around you with tears in his eyes. 

Annie is beyond pleased with herself. It’s one of the hardest giggles you’ve ever seen from her, and it makes your heart feel like it’s going to burst. Maybe there were actually some things you’d miss if you left, you realize all of a sudden. 

Reiner looks dismayed at first. “You made me drop the fucking thing,” he mutters while pouting. Of course, Connie just lights up another one. This time he offers the first hit to Annie, but she declines it in favor of offering it to Reiner. 

She gives him a playful nudge to get his attention. He’s back to smiling again as soon as he sees it. In fact, his entire demeanor lights up. While the four of you pass around that second cigarette he gets dangerously close to pushing the boundaries of Annie’s truce, touching her far more than she likes and talking to her nearly nonstop. Surprisingly, Annie doesn’t seem to be bothered by it. 

Before you go back downstairs, Connie snaps his head toward Annie with sudden realization. 

“Oh my god…” he says, the horror evident in his voice, “The other woman in the shower… it wasn’t… MY mom, was it?” 

[peakywitch]

Tommy X reader with Prompt no.24 please❤️❤️❤️

Charlie, Mommy and Daddy - Tommy Shelby

Hi beautiful! sorry for keeping you waiting, life is crazy. 

words: 3.5k WOW

warnings: usual, bad language, mentions of dead people and war, angst and fights. 

PART TWO COMING SOON DUE TO THE AMOUNT OF LOVE GOT!!

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prompt: 24 “Pack your shit and leave. Get the fuck out of my sight!”

As the last days of October approached, Y/N already knew that Tommy's birthday was near. He had never revealed the date, so a few years ago Y/N started celebrating it one of the many days that were after the twentieth. First, it was the 21st, the next year the 22nd, and so on.

He always smiled at the vanilla and chocolate cake that she baked especially for him.

"Did I guess right?" she always asked, with a tired smile, her hair with a little flour and Charlie in her arms.

"Flavor? Yes. The date? Maybe." He answered, with a mischievous and funny smile.

That October 25, 1925, was like any other. While Tommy was in Watery Lane dealing with legal problems, Y/N and Charlie were trying to finish baking a cake.

"Why do we cook?" Charlie asked, as he walked and stumbled through the kitchen.

"Because today... might be daddy's birthday, Charlie." Y/N smiled, as she finished transferring the yellow mixture to a baking dish.

"How many years is daddy turning?" The woman could hear the question even over the creaking noise of the oven door opening.

"Five hundred." Y/N joked, leaving the tray in the oven and closing the door.

Charlie exploded into euphoric laughter.

After a few minutes, the boy asked a question:

“Is mummy going to congratulate daddy for his birthday? Is she coming back?”

The question left his lips so careless, he never understood. But what could someone expect from a four-year-old? But, although he didn´t understand the subject, Tommy actually never told him. “She went away.” He said whenever Charlie asked. He also never answered the “when is she coming back” question.

 “I think you should ask that to your father, Charles.” She answered slightly, he then bolted out into the garden to kick off wilted autumn leaves and on the ground.

While cleaning everything they used to cook, Y/N doubted that Thomas’s birthday was today, but she was sure he was turning 35. The age difference tormented them a bit, but for only seven years. Although in the past it had been the subject of discussion and disagreements, both were clear that one knew more than the other about certain things. Y/N didn't understand anything about politics or horses, and Tommy had no idea how he should act in situations of extreme emotional sensitivity. But they tried, Y/N tried to pet the horses and Tommy wiped her tears with a white handkerchief that had her name embroidered on it but was always in his pocket.

The half-hour of baking went by quickly, Y/N could only think about whether or not today was Tommy's birthday, she was hoping she could find out.

“Is this how it will be? Will I come to my house and watch you cook while my son plays outside?" asked a smile at the door.

The voice took her by surprise, forcing the girl to drop a spoon mixing chocolate. It fell to the floor, staining the white marble brown. It could have been worse, Tommy thought seeing the mess he caused in an instant, it could have been blood.

"Tommy!" she smiled, then hugged him tightly. "Happy possible birthday, possible birthday boy." She said in his ear, as she stroked his nape with her flour-stained hand.

He thanked her and kissed her forehead.

"So… I guessed right?" she laughed, Tommy could only keep his smile on his face, looking into her eyes “Oh come on. Tell me yes once, or at least tell me that I did well one of these last times. "

"Maybe." He said softly, after clearing his throat. He pulled away from her, leaned against the wall, and stroked his lip with a cigarette that he pulled from a metal box once his back was against the wall.

"I'll put salt in your coffee." She laughed as she cleaned up the mess.

"I don't drink coffee, Y/N." he smoked.

"Then... I'll move all the whiskey bottles around for you and hide them." She backed off, rinsing off the dropped spoon.

"I have them locked up and you know it." He reminded her.

Both looks smiled.

…

When the clock struck midnight, Charlie had been asleep for four hours. Tommy and Y/N had been talking about life in his office. Thomas had a glass of Irish in his hand and Y/N had a cup of tea.

The fire was loud, but the photo of Grace kept in Thomas's left desk drawer screamed in Y/N's mind. Charlie's questions echoed too, and that made the poor woman bite her lip with fervor.

"Y/N" Tommy clarified his voice "would you be so kind as to explain to me that you are so stressed out?" he asked, finishing his drink in one gulp.

"Charlie should know."

Without warning or a proper introduction, Y/N spat out what was so killing her. Although she told her husband a lot, she did not tell him about those times he murmured her name in his dreams. Neither of her constant demand to be like her. Because she felt like he was never going to love her the way he loved Grace. She wasn't asking him to love her more than Charlie, she would never ask that. But she felt like she could never fill Grace's place.

"The what?" he asked, lighting a cigarette and settling into the single chair.

“About Grace, Tom. Don't play games with me." She replied, setting the cup of tea on the small glass table that was holding the bottle of whiskey.

"I already told him, a month ago." He said as if nothing.

Tommy had that talent. He spoke of love, death, and war as if they were as simple as numbers. Two plus two is four, you love, you die and people kill. There was never a sugar coating with others. But with Grace's death, it was never like that. Maybe it never would be, but he had to be an adult and explain the truth to his child in a simple way.

“You told him she's gone, he thinks he's in America, Tommy. I think you should…” she continued, insisting softly in her voice.

"Are you telling me how to raise my son, Y/N?" he asked, after taking the cigarette from his lips and pointing at her.

Y/N didn't speak, but pressed her lips tighter, trying not to blurt out a mention about all those times Charlie called her Mom when he was really tired.

She looked at the gold band on her ring finger, her chest sank. She swallowed hard, forgetting how to breathe and starting to breathe rapidly.

"Because if there's one of the two of us who can give a talk about parenting…" Tommy started, stubbing out his cigarette as he tossed it into the fire. "It's me."

"It's me." Y/N laughed, mimicking him. The comments, the stories, the complaints, and the sadness would not be tolerated anymore. "You never..." she began, trying to be as cordial as possible, it was late.

"Here we fuckin' go," Tommy complained, blinking slowly but not moving. He remained static, imposingly static.

“Yes, here we fuckin’ go, you bloody idiot. I know Charlie more than you do; I saw him more than you in these last four years. " Y/N got up from the comfortable sofa, starting to walk through her husband's private office. "Besides…!" the words hurt when leaving, everything she wanted to talk to him and never could, was coming out in the worst way, between screams and tears “Besides, I don't know what the hell to say when he asks me if I'm his mother! Because...!" the words suddenly stopped, they just didn't come out anymore.

Tommy was staring at her frowning; anger ran through his body.

“If you know him better than I do, why don't you tell him in a way that doesn't hurt, eh? Tell him about your bloody God and the angels, why don't you bring her flowers with him too?!"

The questions shot out of him after he jumped up like a bullet from his chair.

"Take him and tell him, tell him the story because I can't! Because I don't want to be the one to tell him that Grace is dead and that she won't be back!” she screamed back at him.

Both faces were transformed, Tommy had never looked so helpless and Y/N at first couldn't understand why Tommy couldn't do it until she had an epiphany.

"Oh my god..." Y/N whispered, covering her mouth with her hands. Her eyes were brimming with tears, her nose was turning red "You still... you still love her."

Thomas's face remained the same as before, did not change with the passing of seconds.

Everything was starting to make sense.

She suspected it, but now she was sure that that woman was still in his heart. She denied every thought and sent it to the back of her mind, ignoring the pain and anger. But she didn't realize it, until today.

“That's why you don't want to have any more children…” she whispered “You are not afraid to die and leave your children alone, Shelby. You don't want anything that isn't hers…” The realization broke her heart, her tears had a life of their own, they all went at different rates falling down her face “My God, what an idiot I was! At what point did I think you loved me!?" she screamed.

Then nothing.

There was only silence. On both sides. One could only hear the fire, like a few minutes ago.

"Why are you with me?" she asked, her heart ready to break again “Do I have her eyes? Do I have the same perfume?" she began to question, as she tapped him lightly on the shoulders and tried to keep her gaze on his blue eyes.

"Do I have her hands? Or what the fuck is it? I kiss just like her, huh? What the hell of her do you see in me?" she asked even more hysterical, her heart wouldn't stop beating and breaking every second, with every word.

Then, with only a few words everything went to hell:

“Mommy? Why are you hitting Daddy?”

Both adults looked at the little boy, standing on the door on his sleeping clothes. His hair was messy and had the cutest sleepy face ever. It melted Y/N’s heart, but Tommy didn’t care about no one else.

“I’ll be up in a minute, Charlie, go to bed.” She murmured while getting closer to the kid “Everything is fine, don’t worry…” she kissed his forehead and he disappeared, so she closed the door.

Y/N turned around and saw Tommy making a phone call, balancing the tube between his ear and shoulder while he served more Irish on his glass.

“Yes, yes please…okay, right now. Carnaby Street, the second house on your left. Yes… thank you.” He hung up and drank more.

“Tommy…” Y/N mumbled while trying to get closer to him.

He ignored her, walking towards a bookshelf across the room. He opened a book while being watched over by his wife.

“Please, I’m sorry. I…” she was about to burst down into tears, she was feeling helpless.

Tommy took a couple of papers from inside the book and left them on the black desk.

“Twenty pounds. Grab ‘em, pack your shit, and go.” He coldly commanded.

“Wha…what?”

Suddenly there was no more air in the room, it was also getting tinnier and tinnier. Her feelings were strangling her soul, she would fall defenseless on the floor at any given time.

“We need to be alone.” He said, and there it was again. He was being artistically careless as always.

“I don’t need to be away from you, I want to be with you and…”

“A car will be here in ten minutes, pack your things.”

He lit a cigar and sat on his black chair, then proceeded to do some paperwork.

“Tommy…” she cried softly, he was breaking her heart into a million pieces. “You are breaking my heart, please…”

“Nine minutes.” He muttered, without even looking at her.

How could he not care about here? The question was on her mind when she left him alone in his office, the doubt and the pain only grew bigger and bigger as she walked up the stairs to their room.

She opened the door, and everything came back to her.

The feelings she had ten years ago, seeing him date other women while she waited patiently for him to notice her, comforting him all those long nights after the war where he would just cry silently, him exchanging her arms for Grace’s and replacing her in every aspect with the Irish woman… Every single moment washed over her. Like an abnormal gigantic wave, it shook her. She suddenly became lost, she forgot where her dresses were, where her shoes were, and where the man she always loved was. But most importantly, she wondered if there ever was any love in him for her.

“Mommy?” a soft voice asked, and she came back to reality.

There, in the massive bed, was a little body wearing white pyjamas, hugging a stuffed bunny.

He looked sad and tired, just as she did.

“Hey” she susurrated while getting closer to him. She sited on the bed by his side and hugged him. “Charlie…” she whispered while caressing his hair “I have to leave, but we’ll see each other, alright?” Y/N tried to contain her tears, but they were being obedient to her heart.

“No!” he cried, hugging her as tightly as he could “Don’t leave me!”

The little boy was a mess, he was hugging her desperately while crying. She wrapped her arms around him, and another wave washed over her, but this time it was guilt and sorrow.

“Charlie, Charlie, Charlie…” she started to repeat his name quickly, trying to get the kid to look at her “Charlie…look…look at me, Charlie.”

His blue eyes were bloodshot, and his lips were trembling, there was no way Y/N would leave the kid alone here. Charlie was her son, either Tommy liked it or not.

“Grab your coat, you are coming with me. We are going a few days with Auntie Esme, okay?” she cleaned his tears with her thumb and the little kid did the same with hers.

“Don’t cry, mommy.” She smiled with an expression of sadness, then kissed his forehead.

“Don’t forget Mr. Whiskers, he has to come with us so he doesn’t feel lonely without you.”

“Okay…” he whispered and then left.

She started to pack everything she could, which in five minutes it means: two blouses, one pair of pants, a few undergarments, and three dresses. She also took a few things for Charlie. Everything was in the brown leather handbag that had her initials.

“I’m ready.” Said Charlie, while appearing on the doorway with Mr. Whiskers on his left hand and his book Y/N read for him every night.

“Alright, are you ready to have a fun week with your cousins?” she asked while closing her bag, trying to cheer the little boy.

“Yes!” he said, with a smile.

She took her bag and walked to the door, she was now by his side. She saw the room one last time, she knew that was the last time she would leave it with it being “their” room. Because she knew this was the end, it was now Tommy’s room, as it always was.

Tommy’s room. Tommy’s house. Tommy’s kitchen. Everything belonged to him, even she did.

“There’s a car waiting for you, Ms. Shelby.” Said Frances, with a polite smile.

“Thank you, Frances…” she said, and turned around, closing the door. “Let���s go, Charlie.”

She lifted the kid and left him on her hip, while he gripped into her trying not to fall.

“We are going to Auntie Esme’s, we will have lots of fun and…”

She said a lot of things trying to cheer him up, but she was trying to convince herself she wouldn’t cry more that one night for that man.

She walked down the stairs lost in the sorrow, trying to hold everything in place. The kid, the bag, the feelings. She tried to get to the door before Thomas acknowledgement, but he was there, looking at her as if she was just a stranger. But Y/N knew that look on his face. That’s the way he looked at Sabini, that was the way he looked at Kimber before he shot him dead. He was looking at her as if she was his enemy, one who he had to erase.

“Where the fuck do you think you are going with Charlie, eh?” he asked, abruptly and aggressively.

“He´s coming with me.” She said, trying to sound secure and big.

“He’s staying here, this is his house.” He fired back “And I’m his father.”

“But I’m his home.” She fought, Charlie’s face was buried on her neck, he was so confused. “And you are never there for him at night when he cries, neither in the morning when he wants to have breakfast. You are only there to punish him, or to tell him to fuck off because you are working. And he needs time and someone, not a shit tone of money and a massive castle.”

“He’s not your son.”

“Yes, I am.” He cried on her ear, wetting her neck. “You are my mommy.” He kept on crying, he was nervous and scared. He was never in their fights.

“Move countries, I don’t give a fuck anymore. Get the fuck out of my sight, Y/N. Both of you.” He sounded like a mad dog, but at the same time like a lost one. He began to walk away, but froze when he heard:

“Goodbye, Mr. Shelby.”

He couldn’t move, he stood right there. Y/N shut the door slightly and walked straight into the car. She saluted the chauffer and gave him John and Esme’s address.

Ten minutes into the drive, Charlie began to miss Tommy.

“We will have fun, okay? We will play with their dogs, and we will eat freshly picked eggs. We can also go to the lake and do picnics with auntie Esme, how does that sound?” he nodded.

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