#top large suvs

[clockwayswrites]

'Birdritch' part 3

Someday I might post this not at fuck all in the morning and proof read it first, but today is not that day! Masterpost Art

-

“Pamela—”

“Don’t ‘Pamela’ me during a fight!”

“But that’s the thing!” Nightwing said, keeping his hands raised even as he motioned with them. “This isn’t a fight. I get that you were upset—”

“They were trying to bury a body in my park!” Pamela hissed.

“And we stopped them!”

“You know,” Red Hood started from where he was sitting on top of the bound criminals, “you could have just thought of it as free fertilizer.”

Nightwing gave up and buried his face n his gloved hands. “Hood, you’re not really helping.”

“’Course I’m helping.,” Hood said as he inspected his gloved fingers. “I’m keeping the baddies pinned. Red is the one who’s not helping.”

“I’m keeping a birds eye view on things,” Red said into the comms. Which really was a good thing, considering. Like, what? “Speaking of birds, there’s one the size of a large SUV headed this way. Or at least it mostly looks like a bird.”

“What do you mean it mostly looks like a bird?” Nightwing asked.

“Fuck that,” Hood cut in, “what do you mean the size of an SUV?”

Pamela crossed her arms, hip jutted out defiantly. “What it wasn’t me. I don’t deal with animals, you know that.”

“I mean it’s got two legs and a beak…ish thing? It looks like some sort of water bird. Which I guess could explain it? Like, we know Gotham Harbor has too many weird chemicals in it. Maybe someone emptied one too many things right on a totally normal bird and— oh, it’s glowing too.”

“Well great,” Hood managed right before, with a thundering step, the bird thing broke through the vines.

The tuft of green feathers on its chest seemed to almost glow from how bright the color was, but Red hadn’t been wrong. The bird thing really was glowing, a pale cyan color that seemed to shift and ripple and pull away from the white crest and mostly black body of the bird.

“See,” Red said, motioning from his perch on the lamppost, “an SUV sized bird like thing.”

The bird thing’s head tilted and Red and the very sudden, very certain sense that all of the creature’s focus was suddenly on him.

“Red,” Hood rumbled as he slowly pulled out out a gun, “I think you better stop moving.”

“You can’t shoot it,” Nightwing hissed.

“If it tries to eat Red, I sure as fuck am shooting it,” Red growled back.

“Or I could just entangle it with my vines,” Pamela said. She crossed her arms when they all turned to look at her and examined her nails. “What? I am not going just stand here and let a giant bird eat my favorite little birds.”

“Aw,” Nightwing cooed, you do care!”

Pamela rolled her eyes and flicked the hand she had been looking at. One of the massive vines broke free from the ground and whipped towards the bird thing at a speed that was almost hard to track.

And stopped.

Short.

Held in the clawed grasp of the creature. The long neck reared back and the bird thing opened its beak and squawked in offense.

“Uh, guys?” Red said, his voice quiet now.

“Yeah, I’m seeing it too,” Nightwing answered.

“Why the fuck does it have three legs?” Hood asked.

[buckyalpine]

I was thinking about Bucky. A beefy Bucky. A beefy mob Bucky. Who is such a simp. I think now is the perfect time to talk about it cause I need some fluff and look at that, it's also my favorite @wifeofbarnes birthday!

Happy birthday sweet angel, I hope you have one filled with so much love ❤️️❤️️

-

Imagine a brooding beefy mob Bucky pining after his rivals sweet, shy daughter. He has no business liking her, her father was always teetering on the edge of putting a bullet between Bucky's eyebrows but Bucky couldn't help it. She's too cute. Too sweet. Everyone knows there's something between you both between the fleeting glances and the number of times Bucky's left with a blush on his cheeks whenever your around.

For someone who hates meetings, he's more than fond of going to your estate to talk over business with a man he hates so much. He's going to go to every single one of those meeting if it means he gets to see you. He never gets more than a few moments, no more than a few words before he's dragged away by Steve who isn't trying to get stabbed by one of your bodyguards.

-

Bucky swirls his crystal glass, the ice in clinking against each other as he takes a sip of amber liquid, seated at a private booth at the back of the club. The alcohol that's already warming his body heats him up even more when he sees you laughing and giggling with your friends, a cute little birthday girl tiara on top of your head.

Fuck, you were so perfect.

"You're staring again, you creep" Steve snorts but Bucky pays him no mind. He's too busy looking at you in your pretty dress, your hips swaying to the music. Tipsy, maybe even a little drunk, love sick Bucky wants nothing more than to get a moment alone with you but he's smart enough to wait.

Well, sort of.

"Go distract her bodyguards"

"You're going to get us killed"

"Then you'll die knowing it was for a good cause"

Sam and Steve shake their head as they wander off to find your security team, quietly instigating a small scuffle to keep them occupied. You step outside waiting for your car to pull up, frowning when a large black truck stops in front of you instead. The door opens and-

"Bucky, what are you doing!" you squeak as he pulls you into the back of his SUV, setting you on his lap before telling his driver to park in a secluded area and to leave for a "smoke break".

"I wanted to say hi" Bucky shrugs innocently as if its the most obvious thing in the world.

"And this is how you decided to say hi?" You giggle, feeling butterflies bustle around your tummy being so close to him. You could smell his cologne and the warm scent of whiskey clinging onto his lips; you wanted nothing more than to bury yourself into him. The pink on his cheeks deepened at you caught him in his little act, pretending he wasn't admiring you from afar the whole time.

"I didn't know it was your birthday" He shrugs again while you try to wiggle off his lap, worried someone might see you but he huffs and holds you tighter. "The windows are tinted" he reads your mind without you saying anything, feeling your body relax slightly.

"Wish you'd said hi to me earlier" You say with a sigh and Bucky doesn't like the way you look sad now. You would've loved to spend more time with him instead of hiding away like this.

"I can drop you home" He offers with a boyish smile and you shake your head because it's far too risky and there's no way you'd be able to get away with it and sneak it past your father.

"Not unless you plan on posing as the cleaning lady-

"I can do that"

"Bucky-

"I can pull off a maids dress"

"James"

"Then how about a birthday kiss" He cocked his head to the side playfully and you swear your cheeks couldn't get any hotter.

"Bucky-

"Just one birthday kiss?" He pouts and you can't believe this mass of tattoos and muscle is giving you puppy eyes with his pink bottom lip jutting out.

"I-

"Please, sugar?" He whispers, his fingers tracing nimble little shapes on your hips while you chew your lip nervously, giving him a nod because you can no longer formulate words. He leans down to press his lips softly against yours and you sigh at the little whimper he lets out, his hands pawing at you to hold you closer. He feels all warm and fuzzy on the inside, letting his arms hug your body extra tight.

"Another?" He whispers, lips brushing against yours with a plea in his voice and you giggle, kissing him again.

"One more?"

"Bucky"

"Please?" He smiles when you kiss him until you're both breathless, only pulling away when you need air.

-

Imagine how cute he'd be trying to spend more time with you as discreetly as possible. You're usually at home so that's his best bet so he'll work with what he can.

"Why is this large fuck around my house so often" Your father rubbed his temples seeing another message for a meeting to go over shipments and territories. "Seriously, he's here almost every week"

Bucky is able to pull it off for a bit but honestly not for long. He's sitting across your father and it's gotten to the point his guards don't bother waiting by the door because Bucky isn't even a threat. He always comes and goes like it's his own house and they're not blind, silently betting over if this will end in a war or wedding.

"For fucks sake are you here to see me or my daughter" your father finally huffs, no longer able to take Bucky's blushing and shifting after you left his office to give him a coffee. "You're here to see her, aren't you"

Bucky nods like a school child who got caught cause knows he hasn't been discreet with his crush. Your father contemplates tossing Bucky into the lake with rocks tied to his ankles but he's also seen the way you look at him and there's no doubt the feelings are mutual.

"God damnit"

Imagine wedding and 2 babies later, Bucky is still just as in love with you. The cutest part is he's still trying to be sneaky.

"You're married now, why the hell are you still trying to hide" Your father berates the mob boss while bouncing his grandson in his lap seeing Bucky tug you into the kitchen so he could kiss you. "You're 6 feet tall and built like a line backer, you can't exactly hide, son"

Bucky pouts at you while you giggle hearing your father snort from the living room.

"He's right, y'know" you nuzzle into your husband while he engulphs you in his arms. You squeal when he hoists you up instead and makes a beeline towards the bedroom. You still stir something in him to this day and since your dad was there to babysit anyway...

"Bucky, where are we going"

"To go make baby #3"

[a-reader-and-a-writer]

Sweeter Than Revenge Part 1

Fandom: Twisters, Tyler Owens, f!reader, Scott's Sister!reader Summary: When you try to surprise your brother with a visit in the hopes of mending your strained relationship, it does not go as planned. Rudely dismissed by Scott, you decide to get a little revenge. And who better to do it with than the head Tornado Wrangler himself... Word Count: 3509 TW: Family Conflict, Brief Mention of Reader's Clothes/Breasts, Unsucessful Flirting, Language Notes: A massive thank you to @blue-aconite and @green-socks for reading this over for me and for all the constant support! And to @mayhem24-7forever for always answering my late-night panicked messages

Divider created by me (please ask/credit before using)

Series Masterlist

Grabbing your backpack off the seat beside you, you stood and joined the crowd of passengers making their way to the front of the bus. You stopped to let an elderly couple join the line in front of you and used the momentary pause to glance out the window at your destination. A small diner in need of a fresh coat of paint and a good window washing sat off to the left while several rows of gas pumps were lined up on the right. Trucks, vans, campers, and SUVs filled almost every parking spot and spilled into the grassy field around the lot. Some vehicles were ancient, rusted machines that barely looked driveable while others were so fresh and high-tech they could have just been driven off a lot. Those were the vehicles you were looking for.

Stepping off the bus, you headed towards the group of four shiny new vehicles on the other end of the parking lot. On the way, your head was on a constant swivel as you took in everything around you: a middle-aged couple arguing loudly about who forgot to tie down the lawn chairs the last time they stopped, a somewhat familiar-looking man in a cowboy hat unloading a piece of equipment from his huge red truck while another long-haired man filmed him, a woman with dreadlocks fiddling with a remote control only for a large drone to drop out of the sky a moment later and land at her feet, a few children racing towards the diner with their exasperated mother trailing behind yelling at them to watch where they were going. 

It was utter chaos and you loved it already. 

As you approached the vehicles, you saw the Storm PAR logos printed on the sides and breathed a sigh of relief that after this sixth bus stop, you had finally tracked them down. You still didn’t see who you were looking for, so you walked up to a man with dark curly hair wearing a white button-down Storm PAR shirt who was currently crouched down examining a weird solar panel-looking piece of equipment set up next to one of the vans. As you cleared your throat, he looked up from the machine and blinked, as if he was shocked to see someone standing there despite the crowds of people around him. Glancing around, he asked, “Um…can I help you?”

You guess you shouldn’t be too surprised by his reaction. In your cut-off shorts, boots, and halter top, you looked like you should be hanging out one of the trucks you passed when you first got off the bus, not the polished, company polo shirt-wearing tech heads milling around the Storm PAR vehicles. And you didn’t even want to know what your hair and makeup looked like after four hours on that poorly air-conditioned packed bus. 

So, instead of taking offense at this guy’s slightly dismissive tone, you smiled as you adjusted the backpack on your shoulder. “Hi. I’m looking for Scott.”

The man glanced over his shoulder but made no move to stand up. “He’s here but he’s in the middle of some data calculations. Can I help you with something?”

“Not really. I had time off college and he mentioned you guys were having a really active season so I figured why not come out and see all this in action.” The man was still looking at you like he couldn’t understand why you were talking to him and you suddenly realized you hadn’t explained the most important detail. “Fuck, I’m sorry. I guess I should have mentioned, Scotty’s my older brother.”

Instantly, the man’s demeanor shifted and a huge toothy smile spread across his face. “Oh! You should have led with that. Nice to meet you.”

Rising to his feet, he stuck out his hand and you shook it, officially introducing yourself. When he said his name was Javi Rivera and it was your turn for things to click into place. “Javi! You’re Scotty’s business partner, right? He’s told me about you.”

Javi let your hand drop and his eyes shifted towards his equipment once more. “Really? Well, um, you know, I’ve, uh, heard great things about you too.”

You grinned, grabbing onto the straps of your backpack. “Scotty never even mentioned he had a sister, did he?” Javi gave a slight shrug, still not looking directly at you and you laughed. “Yeah, that sounds like him. Never wants to get personal, everything’s about business with him. To be honest, I don’t see or hear from him that much which is just another reason I figured I’d come surprise him when I had the chance. Plus, I read some research Scotty left lying around last time he came home and it was really interesting. I’m excited to be able to see what you guys do firsthand.” 

“Well, I’m sure Scotty will be glad to see you. Let me go grab him.”

Javi turned and disappeared into one of the vans. A moment later, he returned with your brother following closely behind. “Javi, I was in the middle of some important calculations. Why did I have to–” Scott stumbled to a stop as he saw you standing there.

Since he was a teenager, Scott had mastered the art of keeping his emotions hidden. He could be fuming mad, joyously happy, or heartbrokenly sad, and in each case keep the same perfect mask on his face. However, you knew his one tell. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t keep the emotion out of his eyes. And right now, you could practically see flames burning within them. 

For the first time, you wondered if coming to see him had been such a good idea. Shifting from one foot to the other, you tried to force a smile as you half-heartedly held out your arms. “Surprise.”

Scott remained rooted to the spot, his only movement the constant forceful chewing of his gum. Javi glanced back and forth between the two of you, the smile slowly draining from his face. Hesitantly, he explained, “She said she was your sister so I figured…”

A cultivated smile spread across Scott’s lips but it didn’t reach his eyes as they continued to burn into yours. “No, it’s all good. I’m just surprised to see her.” Without breaking eye contact, he held his tablet out to Javi who took it from him. “Give me a few minutes to talk to her and then I’ll get back to those numbers.”

Javi started to protest, assuring him there was no rush and he could take his time, but Scott had already closed the distance between you. Grabbing your arm tightly to the point of slight painfulness, he guided you past the rest of the Storm PAR vehicles and into the empty field. 

Once you were far enough away that you knew none of his co-workers could hear you, you wrenched your arm from his grasp, snapping, “Get off of me!”

“What the hell are you doing here?” he growled, his mask finally slipping as his nostrils flared and lips curled into a snarl.

“Well, hello to you too!” You examined your arm where he had grabbed you, massaging it gently. “Can’t a girl come visit her big brother?”

“Not when she wasn’t invited or even asked if she could come beforehand! What were you thinking? This isn’t one of your wild party vacations. This is my job!”

“I know that. I wasn’t expecting you to drop everything and take me sightseeing. I just thought I could hang around and watch you guys in action. I’ve read some of the research you left at Christmas and I was hoping maybe I could learn a little more about it.”

Scott shook his head, his hands on his hips. “This is our busiest time of the season. I don’t have time to babysit you.”

“What do you think I am? Eight? I don’t need you to babysit me. I told you, I’m interested in what you do and thought I could just hang around and see how it all works.” You shrugged, “Maybe you could even take me on a chase or two.”

“Hell no. I won’t have you getting scared and causing us to have to turn around in the middle of a storm run. Javi and I have worked too hard to get this company to where it is and I’m not going to let you ruin that because, on a whim, you thought it would be fun to see a storm.” Scott scoffed as he rolled his eyes. “It’s so typical of you to still think that just because you want something or because Mom and Dad will pay for it, everyone else will bend over backward to accommodate you. Well, I don’t have to put up with your bullshit anymore.”

You took several deep breaths and tried to keep your anger in check. This was not at all how you thought this would go, but lashing out right now would only make things worse. So, in a calm, steady voice, you tried to shift approaches. “Scotty, we haven’t spent any real time together since you left for MIT. And back then…I’m not proud of the person I was and I can’t imagine what that must have been like for you. But I was a kid who didn’t know any better! I’ve grown up since you left. And this trip isn’t just something I thought would be fun to do ‘on a whim’. I worked hard to save up the money to come here because I wanted to see you and spend time with you—however little time you may be able to work into your schedule. And I promise I won’t get scared or make you stop your chase. If I don’t like it, I’ll suck it up until it’s over then not ask to go again.” Taking a step forward, you gently placed your hand on his arm and gave him a timid smile. “Let me show you who I am now…how much I’ve changed. Please, Scotty.”

But Scott yanked his arm away and took a step back. “I don’t care where you go, but you need to stay away from me and Storm PAR. Now, I have work to do.” He took one last look at you, and, for just a moment, you thought maybe he felt bad for what he said and was reconsidering things. But then, he blew a small bubble with his gum and popped it loudly in your face. You jumped slightly, the sound sharp and startling, before glaring at him. He had been doing that since you were kids and he knew how much you absolutely despised it. Shooting you one last smug smirk, Scott turned and walked off towards the cluster of Storm PAR vehicles. 

You turned to look out into the open field, lip quivering, as you fought against the tears that were burning your eyes. Things between you and Scott had been pretty bad when he left for college, but you hadn’t realized he still really thought so poorly of you. The last few holidays or family events he had been forced to come to, things seemed to be getting a little better. You thought that maybe you had reached a turning point in your relationship. But now it was clear you had been very wrong.

Looking back at the diner and overflow of vehicles, you wondered what you should do now. You had no idea when the next bus came by or how to get a ticket home or if there was a motel nearby you could stay in for the night or how you would even get there if there was or what you would do in the morning or—

UGH! The longer you stared at the Storm PAR logo on the side of the van Scott had disappeared into, the less hurt you felt. Instead, the pain began to shift into outrage. How dare Scott treat you like this? You had spent a lot of money and wasted two weeks of your summer vacation to take this trip to see him. You knew it would involve listening to him drone on about numbers and graphs you could barely comprehend for most of the time, but you were willing to smile, nod, and seem interested to show you cared about what he did. But no! He didn’t even give you a chance to explain yourself or prove that you weren’t here to interfere with his work. He had just torn you down before turning his back on you and walking away. That asshole!

The sun was starting to dip lower in the sky and you realized standing here fuming about Scott wasn’t going to help your situation. You could do that once you found a bus schedule or a place to stay for the night. However, as you stormed back through the parking lot, something caught your eye. 

When you had come through the first time and passed the familiar-looking man and the long-haired guy with the camera, you had only seen their truck from behind. But now that you were looking at the front, you noticed the distinctive metal logo attached to the front of the truck’s grille: a tornado with horns jutting out the top of the vortex. And you realized why the man in the cowboy hat looked familiar. 

Scott might not talk to you very often, but during the instances that he had, you had heard plenty of complaints about Tyler Owens and his group of Tornado Wranglers. Everything they did was the complete opposite of how Storm PAR operated and it drove Scott crazy that while he was out there doing the “real work”, this group of amateur YouTube chasers were the ones getting all the attention and acclaim when all they were really doing was getting in Storm PAR’s way. 

And Scott seemed to have another level of hatred for Owens himself.    

Out of curiosity, you had looked up the Wranglers’ YouTube channel and found it pretty entertaining. While Scott viewed every aspect of his work with complete seriousness and professionalism, these guys tackled the same work like they were having the time of their lives. They were still informative, explaining to their viewers how tornadoes formed and the types of destruction they can cause, but they would then drive straight into the center of a funnel or take chat requests of crazy things to do in the storm. It honestly seemed like a great way to get people excited about learning about tornadoes while also keeping them entertained. And it seemed like their nearly 850,000 followers would agree. No wonder Scott hated them so much. 

Suddenly, you had an idea—the perfect little act of revenge.

Changing directions, you made your way over to Owens’s truck. You could see he was now alone, tinkering with the equipment attached to the bed of his truck. He had traded his white cowboy hat for a faded backward cap and had pushed his sleeves up above his elbows as he worked, his sun-bronzed skin on full display in the dying light.

Though you had only watched a handful of the Tornado Wranglers’ videos, you had a pretty good idea of the kind of man Tyler Owens was and how you could persuade him to help you. After all, these narcissistic, jacked-up truck-driving, overcompensating pretty boys were all the same. The kind who had been fawned and swooned over their entire adult lives just because they flashed a charming smile or a playful wink in the right direction. However, with just a little stroking of their ego or a bat of your eyes, they could become putty in your hands. All you had to do was introduce yourself.

Reaching the side of the truck, you tucked your hands into your back pockets so it thrust your chest forward and, biting your lip, called out coyly, “Hey there, cowboy.”

Owens glanced up, a curious smile curling across his lips as he saw you, his eyes traveling from your head to boot and back up. “Well, hello there.”

Giggling softly as you placed your hand on the side railing, you asked in a sing-songy voice, “You’re Tyler, right? The big...bad…tornado wrangler?” With each word, you walked your fingers across the railing, your eyes locked on his.

He leaned back, wiped his hands on his jeans, and said, “I might be. Depends on who’s asking.” He was still looking at you but his smile had slipped slightly and you realized you might not have grabbed his attention as well as you thought.

Placing both hands on the railing now, you pushed yourself up slightly, your chest pressed together, and you looked up at him from under your lashes. “What if I’m asking?”

Owens stared at you for a long moment, his eyes still examining you thoughtfully, though you were shocked to see they stayed locked on your face and didn’t dip down to your breast like you had expected. Then, finally, he said, “You seem like a nice girl, sweetheart, but I don't think I'm what you're looking for. Good luck though.” He gave you a kind, yet dismissive nod, and went back to whatever he had been working on.

Your jaw dropped, lips moving silently as you tried to figure out what just happened. This kind of thing always worked on guys like him in the past. Show a little skin, stroke their egos a little, and they would be wrapped around your finger in no time. But he hadn’t even given your act more than a passing glance. It was possible you weren’t his type or maybe he was in a committed relationship, but neither of those things had exactly deterred guys in the past. 

You turned around—properly dismissed—and were just about to walk away when another thought crossed your mind. What if…what if you had misjudged him? What if he wasn’t the kind of guy you assumed he was? From what you had seen in his videos, he was cocky and overconfident and a huge flirt, but what if that was all for the cameras? During your very brief interaction, he seemed polite and respectful even as you tried to throw yourself at him, something no other guy had ever done in that situation. 

Maybe you had gone about this all wrong. Maybe you needed a different approach. A more honest one…

You hurried around the other side of the truck so you were in front of him once more. Dropping all the over-the-top flirtatiousness from your voice, you said, “Okay, I’m sorry. I thought…it doesn’t matter what I thought, but the point is I shouldn’t have done that. I’ve had a really shitty day and approached this situation all wrong.”

Owens didn’t raise his head, but his eyes drifted back in your direction. Feeling like he was offering you a chance, you explained, “Listen, the deal is I came here to surprise my brother with a visit, and as soon as he saw me, he told me he doesn’t want me here and I should fuck off out of his way.”

That got his attention. Looking up, his brow furrowed, Owens asked, “Your brother said that to you?”

You rolled your eyes and hit the heel of your palm against the side of the truck. “Well, not in those exact words but the sentiment was there. The point is, he told me he didn’t care where I went as long as I left him and his team alone. So, I plan on respecting his wishes…and wondered if I could hang out with your team instead.”

“Well–” He leaned back, clearly not interested in your request, but you cut him off before he could turn you down.

“Please! It’ll just be for a day or two. I promise not to get in the way or mess with any of your work. I just know he has a problem with you guys and seeing me with you will drive him insane.” 

Putting down the wrench he was holding, Owens shook his head. “Back up…who are we talking about now? Who’s your brother?”

You realized you needed to get better at introducing people into a conversation before jumping right in. “Scott? He works for Storm PAR?” He hesitated so you sighed and turned towards the other group of storm chasers at the other end of the lot. With one hand on your hip, you pointed lazily with the other, “The surly tall one who never takes off his stupid baseball cap?”

Instantly, Owens straightened up and you knew you had piqued his interest. Chuckling, he asked, “Wait, so you’re telling me Mr. Clipboard and Chewing Gum is your brother?” You nodded. “And you want my help messing with him?”

“Yeah, that about sums it up. So, will you do it?”

The cowboy leaned over the side of the truck and gave you a wide grin. “Oh, sweetheart, you’ve come to the right place.”

Part 2 coming 8/19!

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[buckets-and-trees]

Prepare For Takeoff

Title: Prepare For Takeoff Characters/Pairings: soft dark!Mafia!Andy Barber x female!reader Word Count: 1.5k

Content Warnings: vaginal fingering, dubious existing engagement

Logistical Notes: Another piece early in the days of the I'm Your Man AU.

Author Note: I started this AU when I was at an airport, and my recent trip had me thinking of these two again, and it had me wishing I were Andy's to spoil.

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

While you aren’t used to being chauffeured to every aspect of your life (nor did you want to get used to it, the driver and vehicle yet another element that Andy insisted on in the new life he inserted you into), you know a security checkpoint where your driver had to stop and speak to someone else is not part of the typical route back to the palatial Barber Estate. You sit up straighter in your seat, looking first to the men in the front, but neither of them give anything away, your bodyguard Shep’s face is the same stoic expression as ever, and your driver Mark only glances into the rear view mirror to meet your eyes briefly.

Your brows furrow and you look out the window. You can only see large white buildings on either side of the SUV, and the overwhelmingly industrial feel has you at a loss for guessing the where and why of your location.

That is until you reach the end of the building and the car pulls around the corner. Now you see these large white industrial walls make up the sides of a row of aircraft hangars. While your jaw doesn’t drop, your mouth opens slightly. The jaw dropping moments as a character in the life of Andy Barber are so frequent, but you are starting to control your reactions a bit more.

The SUV pulls up smoothly to the side of a private jet, sleek and black, the late afternoon sun shining off its metal sides. Mark stops the vehicle, and as Shep opens your door, you are not surprised to see you are stepping out exactly onto a long, blue carpet that leads from the SUV to the bottom of a set of white stairs. At the top of them, Andy emerges from the plane, nodding to you. You smooth down the front of your clothing and glare up at him.

“What is this?” You call up loudly.

“You know what it is.”

“Where are we going?”

“Away for the weekend. Now, don’t be difficult, sweetheart, you’re going to love this.”

You feel a sting in your eyes but quickly blink it away.

You hate this because you know he is right.

Yet again he will undoubtedly give you exactly what you want and go beyond what you could even imagine for it, but because he wants to, not because you want any of it.

That is the constant curse in this relationship.

Everything you want, but all your choices stolen from you before you can make them.

You concentrate on taking deep breaths as you ascend the staircase, mustering the strength that you will need for this. You have to armor yourself against his charm and his cunning. Every moment with him is dangerous.

“I thought it was time to take you away, make you forget the everyday. I know you’ve been under a lot of stress.”

You blink, open your mouth, then shut it again. He is the source of the stress, but you don’t trust what would happen if you said that.

He smirks, then sweeps you into a kiss that immediately sends tingles all through your body, from where his lips press insistently against yours, tongue teasing into your mouth, to the hand he plants possessively onto you hip and the other on your back, pressing you flush against him, down to your toes, legs feeling unstable as he takes your breath away. You are helpless but to cling to his shoulders and kiss him back, because your traitorous body willingly surrenders to him, damn near craves him.

He finally lets you breathe again when you tap against his chest and turn your head, gasping for air.

He kisses your cheek, then your neck just beneath your ear.

Getting your breath back, you give a small huff. “So, what? I don’t even get to pack? You just have whatever I need for the flight and when we get wherever we’re going, I’ll just arrive to a closet full of new clothes and accessories?”

“Naturally.” You can feel his smirk against your skin for a moment before he bites at your delicate flesh.

“This is insane.” You push away from him and step through the open door of the jet.

“It’s not insane,” he says, stalking close behind you.

The interior of the plane is sleek, minimal, but the flavor of the furniture and decor evoke the same feeling as the common spaces of his estate with lush leather and dark wood.

The fact that there’s furniture…

“It’s not normal.”

Hand to your back, Andy ushers you further into the plane. “You’re never going to be subjected to normal again in your life.”

“But what if I liked normal?”

He sits on a leather loveseat and pulls you down immediately next to him, nearly in his lap. He counters, “You liked needing to get to the airport early, check your bags or haul them through security with your three-ounces-or-less limit on liquids, take off your shoes, and trek through the terminals to your gate?”

You sigh and look straight ahead.

He chuckles and beckons over a gentleman who offers a tray of drinks.

“Bourbon or champagne?”

“Thank you,” Andy says, and takes a glass of the dark bourbon.

“No, thank you,” you decline.

“The captain says we are clear for take off on your word, Mr. Barber.”

Andy nods. “Wheels up then. We’ll take dinner in ninety minutes. You can leave us until that point.”

“Call if you need anything, sir.”

You hear the click of a door as the man disappears. Andy takes a slow drink, then presses the glass to your lips, forcing you to take a sip before he sets the glass aside.

You feel the jet begin to move and then turn toward the runway.

“You deserve more than normal,” Andy says, eyes on you, returning to your conversation from moments before.

“Andy…” you hedge.

“I will whisk you away anywhere in the world. I’ll give you everything you want. You’re mine to spoil. You’re going to live a beautiful life with me.”

“Andy,” you start again, but unsure how to counter.

He growls your name and yanks you abruptly into his lap. He cuts any argument you were about to launch into by biting at your lower lip and grinding you down onto his hard bulge.

You whimper and throw your head back.

Andy assaults your bared neck with heated kisses. He knows he’ll have you a pliant mess for him to slake his lust in a matter of moments.

You know it, too.

And you know he’ll overwhelm you with pleasure of your own, never a selfish lover even though every other bit of him is selfish.

His fingers slip under the fabric covering your core without hesitation, and he strokes your labia, gathering more and more of your arousal as the plane picks up speed. Slow strokes back and forth, back and forth. The pad of his forefinger circles your clit and you bite back a whimper.

“Mmm, you know I love those noises you make.” He circles your bundle of nerves again, this time with his thumb, letting two of his fingers dip just slightly into your slick channel. “Give me what I want,” he coos, coaxing with another circle, and another, and you finally break, moaning openly for him.

“That’s it, sweetheart, let me know how good I make you feel.”

He pumps his fingers full into the knuckle now, and not like anyone else you’d ever been with intimately before. It’s only been a few weeks, but Andy has taken every opportunity to become a master of your body and coax and command pleasure out of every inch of you. He knows just how much pressure to apply when fucking you with his fingers, and he pushes into that spongy spot at the front of you walls insistently, repeatedly as the jet leaves the ground, making you cry out and shake on an abrupt orgasm.

You sink forward, hanging your head on his shoulder, but it’s only the first orgasm he plans to ply from your body on this flight. He draws your left hand to his mouth, and hums as he places a kiss first against the band of your engagement ring on your finger and then into your palm, before trailing his lips to your wrist. He eases you down to the floor, and you lay back and watch as he shucks off his pants above you before descending down to sheath himself inside you next, demanding more.

And as he fucks you there, then on another of the chairs, then takes you back to the sleeping quarters for yet more, you bend to his will and his demands and his lust, overcome with everything he is and everything he makes you feel, lost in the complexity of what he’s confined you into. His spoiled and ruined sweetheart.

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[hyunjinsjeans]

He Knows (Hyunjin ver.)

Chan ver. | Lee Know ver. | Changbin ver.

MASTERLIST

Synopsis: You have been meaning to tell your husband you want to have a baby, but since you have had issues with your periods he is wary of your health. The right time comes when you are with him during a schedule.

Type: Fluff 🧸, 👍 SFW, female reader 💃

Warnings: mentions of pregnancy and periods/period issues.

Word count: 3825 words (oopsie doopsie!)

AN: Sorry this is not really a blurb... I couldn’t stop writing :) so if it is longer than the previous ones… well, it is what it is. Also, FYI: I do believe I will post the full-length fic at some point (because yeah, I did write a lot this time...). No real proofreading.

You groaned from the back of the large car. An SUV, the manager had called it. The cameras were already on sight and you began feeling the burning of anxiety creeping up your legs like ants on a tree.

A hand reached out from the seat to your right, it found your knee and squeezed with the ring finger and thumb. You took in a deep breath and reached to put your hand on the extended forearm. To your left, there was a shift as the seat belt came undone.

“It’s okay, they know you already” Hyunjin tried to reassure you.

As much as he wanted you to be calm, he was struggling to keep it together himself.

“Yeah, but I’ve never walked the airport with you…” you whispered.

Han leaned over your shoulder to speak to the two of you.

“If it’s too much you could walk in the back with the staff like you usually do,” your friend offered. 

Hyunjin tilted his head, his large Versace glasses already laid on top of his hair like a headband. His eyes showed little liking for the idea although the three of you knew it was the safer option, as you had done it that way several times in the past and fans seemed to take little notice of you. 

“I’d rather hold your hard through it, but if you’re more comfortable with that…”

Both of your eyes slid down to your hands as his fingers came to cover your hand that was still touching his arm. You let your head hang, biting your bottom lip, you tried to think about it.

“I’d prefer to be with you,” you admitted, still deep in thought.

Han watched you two for a second and leaned back on his seat, to him it was clear what was going to happen and he did not need to intrude in your conversation any further.

To your right, Hyunjin pressed a feather-like kiss to your forehead.

“We can be the last in line then,” he offered.

After you nodded, he looked back at Han and reached out his hand to catch his attention.

“Do you think you could go before us?”

Han hummed a positive response and gave you a smile in time for the car to come to a stop. “Let’s go!” He nudged you.

The airport was crazy. An entirely new experience for you. Whatever the boys ever said about it to describe it fell short to the true madness of flashes, phones, faces, yelling and shoving that went on while you walked hand in hand with your husband. It was true that you had traveled together, but the times you had tagged along you had walked behind them and surrounded by their staff. A couple of times you even got to leave in a different car, entering the airport far behind the boys, cameras already packing up and leaving. This time you were walking in the middle of the chaos, hand held in Hyunjin’s firm grip. You squeezed his hand back and thanked him in your head for handing you the cap, face mask and big sunglasses. You were well concealed, safe from the scrutiny even if you were standing right there in front of everyone. 

The walk to the gate was interesting, to say the least. Fans knew who you were, Hyunjin made little effort to hide you from them after he decided he wanted to marry you. Nobody was entirely shocked you were there, some were curious as to how your relationship was. The dynamic was foreign to his fans, never having seen you two interact for long periods of time as you let him do his thing and got cut from any content if you happened to be captured on videos or photos. 

You sat together in business class, each in a little compartment of your own. A small curtain set the seats apart, though it did nothing to pull you from each other. You two still managed to watch the same movie chat while the credits rolled. Hyunjin took some time to draw in his sketchbook, in the meantime you pulled out your tablet and continued reading a manuscript for work. 

“Is that one good?” Felix wondered from the seat to your left. 

You made a face, unable to decide yet since you had only read a few pages. “It could be, I’m only starting it. But the writer is new so who knows.”

Felix liked to ask about the manuscripts you worked on, as an assistant editor it was your job to get the stories clean and ready for publishing. Your boss always asked you to read a story before deciding if it had potential, so you were in a constant loop of editing and reading, editing and reading. 

You were each caught up in your own worlds when your alarm went off. Phone buzzing on the little table next to your seat. You shut it off and went to reach inside your carry on, quickly taking a couple of small pills from your prepackaged pill case and went to grab your water bottle ignoring the way hyunjin’s brow arched watching your actions. As far as he knew you were not on any medication and you’d taken your vitamins in the morning; so why are you taking some pills now? 

A couple months ago, he had insisted on going with you to see the doctor; you had been dealing with what he referred to as “inhuman pain” during your periods for the last few months. He didn’t know how to help, so he did the only thing he could think of, which was taking you to see someone who knew what to do. Hyunjin had simply had enough of coming home to his favorite person curled in a ball of sweat under a blanket while some drama played on tv. He wasn’t even able to properly hold you because sometimes the cramps were so bad you couldn’t straighten up enough for that, so he had to curl himself around you. The pain would also take away your appetite and make you nauseous. The whole thing was a head scratcher for your husband. 

A good thing was, the doctor could not find anything alarming in your ultrasound and although he laid it out clearly, he gave you two options. Hyunjin had been a little more than upset when the doctor turned to him as if it was his decision what to do with your body. He knew enough about keeping a straight face to turn the attention to you, making it clear it was your call. You could either take a stronger form of medicine, work out more and change your diet to appease your period cramps or you could go on birth control.

You two had not talked much about having kids, besides knowing and agreeing you would be fine having only one baby. Hyunjin was sure he might be tempted to have a second one, but if life was too busy he would call it a win if he managed to give his love and attention to a smaller family. He just didn’t want to bite off more than he could chew. And you were on the same page. 

The doctor sensed you two needed to have a chat and gave you an appointment for the following week. 

You didn’t talk about it a lot. Hyunjin told you whatever you wanted to do was okay by him, but he did remind you that the birth control route sounded a lot easier considering you already had a busy and fast paced routine. 

He was clueless indeed. Even the doctor thought about it. In the meantime your husband was thinking you had a million reasons to consider the two options. And he missed the one that was actually making you doubtful. 

You did not tell Hyunjin anything other than the same you told him when you first started having sex. That you didn’t want to play with your hormones and you preferred to use condoms as a way to be safe. He respected that then, same way he respected it today. 

This time, though… It was a bit of a lie. You kind of hoped he would get it, of course he didn’t. You talked to your favorite confidant in Hyunjin’s group. Changbin. He heard you and knew right away that you declined the offer of birth control so that you could easily become pregnant if you and Hyunjin decided to try. 

“Why didn’t he get that?” You asked Changbin and he simply shrugged, reminding you that he was a founding member of baboracha. 

“I doubt he missed that on purpose,” he tried to comfort you. 

So there you were, flying together to Italy. To Milan, to be precise. It was your first time there, Hyunjin was excited to bring you to his dinner with some big names from the Versace brand. He also could not wait to whip out his camera and spend film after film with you in those beautiful streets. 

Landing was quiet, you all picked up your stuff and you got ready to get off the plane and run along with Hyunjin to go through customs and then have a quick walk out to the large cars waiting outside for the group. 

You were at the hotel soon enough and Chan was handing out room keys. He met his girlfriend there so at least you weren’t the only girl tagging along with the boys anymore. 

You had a room key each, agreeing on using mostly Hyunjin’s you put yours away in your wallet. You rode the elevator with I.N and Seungmin, Hyunjin had quickly draped his arm around your shoulders and pulled you onto his side but he kept a light conversation going with his members. You laughed along and intervened to help the boys pick at Seungmin’s new hair. He looked great but he was being annoying about having to change it again for this event.

You said your goodbyes in the hallway and everyone parted to their assigned rooms. Hyunjin let you inside first and you pulled your luggage behind you with a sigh at the fresh scent of a clean room. You were exhausted after the nerves of the airport shenanigans and then the flight, and then the usual travel stress… Hyunjin had not shut the door behind him when you threw yourself face first into the bed, fluffy pillows swallowing you up. 

He chuckled and it reminded you of the dooking of a ferret. 

Fortunately, you landed in time for dinner so you would not have to stay awake for that much longer. 

“You should have slept more on the way”, your husband commented, pushing the suitcases into the closet space. 

You groaned. “Yeah yeah, I’ll sleep when I’m dead.”

Hyunjin dropped his jacket on the armchair by the desk. “We have like 30 minutes before it’s dinner time.”

“Uhmmmm,” you flipped onto your back and stared at the ceiling for a moment. “I’ll get changed then”

Hyunjin watched you as you went for your white suitcase, you opened it and looked around for a solid minute before pulling out a yellow dress and a pair of sandals. You picked up your hair with an elastic that was on your wrist and kicked off your shoes. You grabbed your bag of toiletries and your plastic shower sandals and pointed at the bathroom. 

“I’ll be quick,” you said over your shoulder and saw Hyunjin nod. 

He decided to get changed too, giving up the well thought out look for a simple pair of sweatpants, sneakers and a t-shirt. He sat down in the middle of the bed with the sketch book and continued with his drawings until you came out of the bathroom. You managed to shower and dry your hair in record time. You changed right there, in the small closet space across from Hyunjin, he looked at you pulling up your pink panties and then a nude strapless bra. You then threw the yellow dress over your head with a huff before fixing your earrings and necklace, your rings shining bright on your left hand. You stepped into the selected brown sandals and turned to your husband. 

He was staring. 

“I’m ready, I did it.” You gave yourself a pat on the shoulder, happy to have freshened up in such a short time. 

Hyunjin turned to his phone to see the time and got a text right away. It was Chan on the group chat, asking everyone to meet in the lobby in 5 minutes.

“Just in time too.” He celebrated.

Dinner was a lot of fun, while everyone was tired it was still fun to walk around the streets of Italy with your favorite people. Hyunjin was always happy to see his members take to you so well, especially the younger ones. Felix, Seungmin and I.N were fond of you like little ducklings following their mother; and you enjoyed the feeling of having younger siblings, having grown up as an only child of divorced parents… siblings were something you could only dream of before meeting Hyunjin. 

On the other hand, you were also close to Changbin. The older member was protective of Hyunjin, and when you were introduced to him he could not help but see how similar the two of you were. He had also seen so much of his own sister in you he was unable to do much more than to treat you in a familiar way; which was great because you ended up moving in with the two for a while before you and Hyunjin were able to move into your own place.

So the group had a lot of fun ahead of their busy schedules for the next couple of days. Chan’s girlfriend was there too, and the boys were excited to hang out with the two of you. Unable to help themselves, would their partners have the same chemistry as they did among themselves? So far, the answer was yes. You walked back with your arm intertwined with Chan’s girlfriend’s. The two of you came from different parts of the country, both were eager to learn about the other and how you found yourselves in such a unique place. Chan’s girlfriend was slower when she spoke, more calculated; while you were all giddy and eager. A true strange pair, but you kept laughing and giggling. Turning to your partners ever so often. 

“They’ll be plotting our demise soon enough,” Chan joked with Hyunjin. 

“No kidding, what are they even looking at? What’s so funny?” Hyunjin had a puzzled look on his face that made the others laugh. 

***

You woke up to the morning sun slipping through the curtains. It warmed up your side of the bed and left a yellow line that ran through the carpet and sheets and across your figure. 

Behind you Hyunjin still slept. You could hear the soft whisper of his deep tranquil breathing. You rolled onto your other side and turned your back on both the sun and the alarm clock that would go off in a few hours. The boys didn’t have to be out until later in the afternoon so you wanted to avoid waking up your husband if he had time to sleep some more. 

He looked peaceful, his brow relaxed and his lips loose - mouth open a little bit. You sighed with the soft squeeze of glee taking over your chest. Hyunjin’s chest moved up in slow time and then once his lungs had acquired enough air his chest would move down once more. You closed your eyes, focusing on how his breathing sounded. Like ocean waves crashing into the shore and being pulled back into the immense body of water. 

You were beginning to feel heavy and numb when his slim fingers found your waist and traveled around it to your back, pulling you closer to his warm body that was now facing you. Hyunjin groaned in his sleep and dug his arm around you higher, until your own arm held on to his back and your cheek was pressed against his neck. 

“Do you want to sleep in?” He whispered, breath hitting the top of your head with every word. “We could have room service, or go out and get a coffee..” 

You took a deep breath, inhaling his strong scent. It was woody and fresh, sweet with a hint of lemon. A smell you were used to being surrounded by at home, where the pillows and the closet smelled like him even when he was away for work. You focused yourself and replied in a whisper as well, unwilling to break the morning daze using  a higher volume.

“I thought you wanted to sleep in,” you nuzzled his neck, “we should get ready and go out for a bit, maybe find a café or something.”

“Mhmmm,” Hyunjin felt goosebumps form on his skin but didn’t pull away, “I’ll take a quick shower.”

Five minutes later, you two were still unable to peel yourselves off of each other, you laid on top of his body while his breathing remained even, an arm covering his eyes. He had to mentally slap himself into consciousness, opening his eyes to the beautiful cream colored details on the ceiling, turning to his side to find your eyes closed and your hair a mess behind you all over the pillow. He ran his fingers through it and pushed his head down to kiss the top of your head. 

“I wanted to ask you something,” he started. “I saw you taking some pills on the plane. What… what were those?”

You opened your eyes slowly and blinked a couple of times, you rubbed your eyes with your hand and tilted your head back to look up at him. 

He truly was clueless. 

“I’m taking some new vitamins,” you explained, mentally bracing for the two opposite ways this conversation could go. “I spoke to the doctor a few days ago, and I was thinking…” you doubted a little. 

His fingers dancing on your naked shoulder caught your attention and you consciously had to find the sound of his steady heartbeat to focus again. He granted you his patience, puffy morning eyes staying on your face while your eyes stared far into the wall.

“I was thinking we could have that baby we talked about,” you finished, at last gaze returning to look in his direction. 

“… that baby we talked about,” he repeated under his breath, he did remember. 

You pushed yourself up, your hand on his chest as you did so. He looked up at the ceiling now, his eyes moving from side to side as they did when he was deep in thought. 

“You are taking vitamins. And you want a baby.” He said. “You want to have my baby?” His gaze suddenly fell on your face. 

You nodded, your hair cascading down your back as you sat up to look at him. Your hello kitty pjs pooled around your waist, the pants’ legs bunched up at your knees. He, on the other hand, seemed to be perfect all the time, having slept in his underwear only his hair looked somewhat out of shape. Dark strands sticking out in all directions.

But to him you looked perfect too. His arms pushed him to a sitting position as well, and you stared at each other for a moment. 

“Who else’s?” You slapped his knee with a giggle, “yes, Jinnie. I want to have your baby. It’s all I’ve been able to think about since we saw the doc that time.”

Thinking back, Hyunjin could see how obvious you had been. Throwing hints here and there, volunteering to hold people’s babies, babying kkami to an almost stupid degree (not that anything you did was stupid in his eyes), being so eager during sex, being so disappointed and grumpy during your periods the last three months… looking up freaking baby socks patterns for your next knitting projects…

“What if it’s painful?” Hyunjin could not help but be concerned. “You have a bad time every month, I don’t want this to cause you worse pain” he explained, reaching out to hold your hand. “And giving birth sounds terrifying!” 

His dramatic side was coming out; you saw it often and you were used to it, but you were surprised to hear this from your husband. He was being honest telling you about his fears of going into something so big and important. He was not wrong about everything. 

“Giving birth does sound terrifying,” you admitted. “But we’ll have a baby afterwards!” You could not help the joyful smile that took over your features. “And I’m healthy, we are safe to go.”

Hyunjin sighed and pushed his hair back. He wanted to say yes. He wanted to hold you and kiss you and have you wrapped in his love, though there was no way he could do so as freely… it was your body, your wellbeing on the line here.

He was a man, but he was no fool; you would give up your autonomy for 9 months to grow a baby - your baby inside your womb. You would not be able to live your life the way you were used to, you wouldn’t be able to travel or drink, you would have to be at the doctor’s office every other week. You would have to give up your clothes and your comfort, take time off from work and see your own body change with the miracle of life. He considered you a little crazy for wanting all of that. 

At the same time he considered himself so lucky to have you want all of that with him. He saw how much you not only loved but also trusted him. You were ready to face any challenge with him, meaning you could rely on him entirely. He knew you would only ask if you were sure the two of you could handle it.

Being honest, he was a little crazy too. And he wanted the same things you wanted, it had always been that way.  

“If we try,” he let his thumb run over the back of your hand, “I don’t want you to worry about it. If it takes time for it to work…”

You nodded in understanding. “I’ll be patient”

“Then I’ll be patient too.”

You jumped to sit on your ankles, “so… is that a yes?”

Your eyes were open wide like a child’s waiting for permission to go to the playground. Hyunjin tsked and looked to the side. 

“Yes Y/N, I want to have a baby with you,” he leaned forward and kissed the back of your hand.

“Jinnie!” You threw yourself at your husband.

It was arms flying in the air to wrap around him, he found himself lying on the bed again with you on top of him kissing all over his face in excitement. 

—-----

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[a-reader-and-a-writer-for-all]

Sweeter Than Revenge Part 1

Fandom: Twisters, Tyler Owens, f!reader, Scott's Sister!reader Summary: When you try to surprise your brother with a visit in the hopes of mending your strained relationship, it does not go as planned. Rudely dismissed by Scott, you decide to get a little revenge. And who better to do it with than the head Tornado Wrangler himself... Word Count: 3509 TW: Family Conflict, Brief Mention of Reader's Clothes/Breasts, Unsucessful Flirting, Language Notes: A massive thank you to @blue-aconite and @green-socks for reading this over for me and for all the constant support! And to @mayhem24-7forever for always answering my late-night panicked messages

Divider created by me (please ask/credit before using)

Series Masterlist

Grabbing your backpack off the seat beside you, you stood and joined the crowd of passengers making their way to the front of the bus. You stopped to let an elderly couple join the line in front of you and used the momentary pause to glance out the window at your destination. A small diner in need of a fresh coat of paint and a good window washing sat off to the left while several rows of gas pumps were lined up on the right. Trucks, vans, campers, and SUVs filled almost every parking spot and spilled into the grassy field around the lot. Some vehicles were ancient, rusted machines that barely looked driveable while others were so fresh and high-tech they could have just been driven off a lot. Those were the vehicles you were looking for.

Stepping off the bus, you headed towards the group of four shiny new vehicles on the other end of the parking lot. On the way, your head was on a constant swivel as you took in everything around you: a middle-aged couple arguing loudly about who forgot to tie down the lawn chairs the last time they stopped, a somewhat familiar-looking man in a cowboy hat unloading a piece of equipment from his huge red truck while another long-haired man filmed him, a woman with dreadlocks fiddling with a remote control only for a large drone to drop out of the sky a moment later and land at her feet, a few children racing towards the diner with their exasperated mother trailing behind yelling at them to watch where they were going. 

It was utter chaos and you loved it already. 

As you approached the vehicles, you saw the Storm PAR logos printed on the sides and breathed a sigh of relief that after this sixth bus stop, you had finally tracked them down. You still didn’t see who you were looking for, so you walked up to a man with dark curly hair wearing a white button-down Storm PAR shirt who was currently crouched down examining a weird solar panel-looking piece of equipment set up next to one of the vans. As you cleared your throat, he looked up from the machine and blinked, as if he was shocked to see someone standing there despite the crowds of people around him. Glancing around, he asked, “Um…can I help you?”

You guess you shouldn’t be too surprised by his reaction. In your cut-off shorts, boots, and halter top, you looked like you should be hanging out one of the trucks you passed when you first got off the bus, not the polished, company polo shirt-wearing tech heads milling around the Storm PAR vehicles. And you didn’t even want to know what your hair and makeup looked like after four hours on that poorly air-conditioned packed bus. 

So, instead of taking offense at this guy’s slightly dismissive tone, you smiled as you adjusted the backpack on your shoulder. “Hi. I’m looking for Scott.”

The man glanced over his shoulder but made no move to stand up. “He’s here but he’s in the middle of some data calculations. Can I help you with something?”

“Not really. I had time off college and he mentioned you guys were having a really active season so I figured why not come out and see all this in action.” The man was still looking at you like he couldn’t understand why you were talking to him and you suddenly realized you hadn’t explained the most important detail. “Fuck, I’m sorry. I guess I should have mentioned, Scotty’s my older brother.”

Instantly, the man’s demeanor shifted and a huge toothy smile spread across his face. “Oh! You should have led with that. Nice to meet you.”

Rising to his feet, he stuck out his hand and you shook it, officially introducing yourself. When he said his name was Javi Rivera and it was your turn for things to click into place. “Javi! You’re Scotty’s business partner, right? He’s told me about you.”

Javi let your hand drop and his eyes shifted towards his equipment once more. “Really? Well, um, you know, I’ve, uh, heard great things about you too.”

You grinned, grabbing onto the straps of your backpack. “Scotty never even mentioned he had a sister, did he?” Javi gave a slight shrug, still not looking directly at you and you laughed. “Yeah, that sounds like him. Never wants to get personal, everything’s about business with him. To be honest, I don’t see or hear from him that much which is just another reason I figured I’d come surprise him when I had the chance. Plus, I read some research Scotty left lying around last time he came home and it was really interesting. I’m excited to be able to see what you guys do firsthand.” 

“Well, I’m sure Scotty will be glad to see you. Let me go grab him.”

Javi turned and disappeared into one of the vans. A moment later, he returned with your brother following closely behind. “Javi, I was in the middle of some important calculations. Why did I have to–” Scott stumbled to a stop as he saw you standing there.

Since he was a teenager, Scott had mastered the art of keeping his emotions hidden. He could be fuming mad, joyously happy, or heartbrokenly sad, and in each case keep the same perfect mask on his face. However, you knew his one tell. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t keep the emotion out of his eyes. And right now, you could practically see flames burning within them. 

For the first time, you wondered if coming to see him had been such a good idea. Shifting from one foot to the other, you tried to force a smile as you half-heartedly held out your arms. “Surprise.”

Scott remained rooted to the spot, his only movement the constant forceful chewing of his gum. Javi glanced back and forth between the two of you, the smile slowly draining from his face. Hesitantly, he explained, “She said she was your sister so I figured…”

A cultivated smile spread across Scott’s lips but it didn’t reach his eyes as they continued to burn into yours. “No, it’s all good. I’m just surprised to see her.” Without breaking eye contact, he held his tablet out to Javi who took it from him. “Give me a few minutes to talk to her and then I’ll get back to those numbers.”

Javi started to protest, assuring him there was no rush and he could take his time, but Scott had already closed the distance between you. Grabbing your arm tightly to the point of slight painfulness, he guided you past the rest of the Storm PAR vehicles and into the empty field. 

Once you were far enough away that you knew none of his co-workers could hear you, you wrenched your arm from his grasp, snapping, “Get off of me!”

“What the hell are you doing here?” he growled, his mask finally slipping as his nostrils flared and lips curled into a snarl.

“Well, hello to you too!” You examined your arm where he had grabbed you, massaging it gently. “Can’t a girl come visit her big brother?”

“Not when she wasn’t invited or even asked if she could come beforehand! What were you thinking? This isn’t one of your wild party vacations. This is my job!”

“I know that. I wasn’t expecting you to drop everything and take me sightseeing. I just thought I could hang around and watch you guys in action. I’ve read some of the research you left at Christmas and I was hoping maybe I could learn a little more about it.”

Scott shook his head, his hands on his hips. “This is our busiest time of the season. I don’t have time to babysit you.”

“What do you think I am? Eight? I don’t need you to babysit me. I told you, I’m interested in what you do and thought I could just hang around and see how it all works.” You shrugged, “Maybe you could even take me on a chase or two.”

“Hell no. I won’t have you getting scared and causing us to have to turn around in the middle of a storm run. Javi and I have worked too hard to get this company to where it is and I’m not going to let you ruin that because, on a whim, you thought it would be fun to see a storm.” Scott scoffed as he rolled his eyes. “It’s so typical of you to still think that just because you want something or because Mom and Dad will pay for it, everyone else will bend over backward to accommodate you. Well, I don’t have to put up with your bullshit anymore.”

You took several deep breaths and tried to keep your anger in check. This was not at all how you thought this would go, but lashing out right now would only make things worse. So, in a calm, steady voice, you tried to shift approaches. “Scotty, we haven’t spent any real time together since you left for MIT. And back then…I’m not proud of the person I was and I can’t imagine what that must have been like for you. But I was a kid who didn’t know any better! I’ve grown up since you left. And this trip isn’t just something I thought would be fun to do ‘on a whim’. I worked hard to save up the money to come here because I wanted to see you and spend time with you—however little time you may be able to work into your schedule. And I promise I won’t get scared or make you stop your chase. If I don’t like it, I’ll suck it up until it’s over then not ask to go again.” Taking a step forward, you gently placed your hand on his arm and gave him a timid smile. “Let me show you who I am now…how much I’ve changed. Please, Scotty.”

But Scott yanked his arm away and took a step back. “I don’t care where you go, but you need to stay away from me and Storm PAR. Now, I have work to do.” He took one last look at you, and, for just a moment, you thought maybe he felt bad for what he said and was reconsidering things. But then, he blew a small bubble with his gum and popped it loudly in your face. You jumped slightly, the sound sharp and startling, before glaring at him. He had been doing that since you were kids and he knew how much you absolutely despised it. Shooting you one last smug smirk, Scott turned and walked off towards the cluster of Storm PAR vehicles. 

You turned to look out into the open field, lip quivering, as you fought against the tears that were burning your eyes. Things between you and Scott had been pretty bad when he left for college, but you hadn’t realized he still really thought so poorly of you. The last few holidays or family events he had been forced to come to, things seemed to be getting a little better. You thought that maybe you had reached a turning point in your relationship. But now it was clear you had been very wrong.

Looking back at the diner and overflow of vehicles, you wondered what you should do now. You had no idea when the next bus came by or how to get a ticket home or if there was a motel nearby you could stay in for the night or how you would even get there if there was or what you would do in the morning or—

UGH! The longer you stared at the Storm PAR logo on the side of the van Scott had disappeared into, the less hurt you felt. Instead, the pain began to shift into outrage. How dare Scott treat you like this? You had spent a lot of money and wasted two weeks of your summer vacation to take this trip to see him. You knew it would involve listening to him drone on about numbers and graphs you could barely comprehend for most of the time, but you were willing to smile, nod, and seem interested to show you cared about what he did. But no! He didn’t even give you a chance to explain yourself or prove that you weren’t here to interfere with his work. He had just torn you down before turning his back on you and walking away. That asshole!

The sun was starting to dip lower in the sky and you realized standing here fuming about Scott wasn’t going to help your situation. You could do that once you found a bus schedule or a place to stay for the night. However, as you stormed back through the parking lot, something caught your eye. 

When you had come through the first time and passed the familiar-looking man and the long-haired guy with the camera, you had only seen their truck from behind. But now that you were looking at the front, you noticed the distinctive metal logo attached to the front of the truck’s grille: a tornado with horns jutting out the top of the vortex. And you realized why the man in the cowboy hat looked familiar. 

Scott might not talk to you very often, but during the instances that he had, you had heard plenty of complaints about Tyler Owens and his group of Tornado Wranglers. Everything they did was the complete opposite of how Storm PAR operated and it drove Scott crazy that while he was out there doing the “real work”, this group of amateur YouTube chasers were the ones getting all the attention and acclaim when all they were really doing was getting in Storm PAR’s way. 

And Scott seemed to have another level of hatred for Owens himself.    

Out of curiosity, you had looked up the Wranglers’ YouTube channel and found it pretty entertaining. While Scott viewed every aspect of his work with complete seriousness and professionalism, these guys tackled the same work like they were having the time of their lives. They were still informative, explaining to their viewers how tornadoes formed and the types of destruction they can cause, but they would then drive straight into the center of a funnel or take chat requests of crazy things to do in the storm. It honestly seemed like a great way to get people excited about learning about tornadoes while also keeping them entertained. And it seemed like their nearly 850,000 followers would agree. No wonder Scott hated them so much. 

Suddenly, you had an idea—the perfect little act of revenge.

Changing directions, you made your way over to Owens’s truck. You could see he was now alone, tinkering with the equipment attached to the bed of his truck. He had traded his white cowboy hat for a faded backward cap and had pushed his sleeves up above his elbows as he worked, his sun-bronzed skin on full display in the dying light.

Though you had only watched a handful of the Tornado Wranglers’ videos, you had a pretty good idea of the kind of man Tyler Owens was and how you could persuade him to help you. After all, these narcissistic, jacked-up truck-driving, overcompensating pretty boys were all the same. The kind who had been fawned and swooned over their entire adult lives just because they flashed a charming smile or a playful wink in the right direction. However, with just a little stroking of their ego or a bat of your eyes, they could become putty in your hands. All you had to do was introduce yourself.

Reaching the side of the truck, you tucked your hands into your back pockets so it thrust your chest forward and, biting your lip, called out coyly, “Hey there, cowboy.”

Owens glanced up, a curious smile curling across his lips as he saw you, his eyes traveling from your head to boot and back up. “Well, hello there.”

Giggling softly as you placed your hand on the side railing, you asked in a sing-songy voice, “You’re Tyler, right? The big...bad…tornado wrangler?” With each word, you walked your fingers across the railing, your eyes locked on his.

He leaned back, wiped his hands on his jeans, and said, “I might be. Depends on who’s asking.” He was still looking at you but his smile had slipped slightly and you realized you might not have grabbed his attention as well as you thought.

Placing both hands on the railing now, you pushed yourself up slightly, your chest pressed together, and you looked up at him from under your lashes. “What if I’m asking?”

Owens stared at you for a long moment, his eyes still examining you thoughtfully, though you were shocked to see they stayed locked on your face and didn’t dip down to your breast like you had expected. Then, finally, he said, “You seem like a nice girl, sweetheart, but I don't think I'm what you're looking for. Good luck though.” He gave you a kind, yet dismissive nod, and went back to whatever he had been working on.

Your jaw dropped, lips moving silently as you tried to figure out what just happened. This kind of thing always worked on guys like him in the past. Show a little skin, stroke their egos a little, and they would be wrapped around your finger in no time. But he hadn’t even given your act more than a passing glance. It was possible you weren’t his type or maybe he was in a committed relationship, but neither of those things had exactly deterred guys in the past. 

You turned around—properly dismissed—and were just about to walk away when another thought crossed your mind. What if…what if you had misjudged him? What if he wasn’t the kind of guy you assumed he was? From what you had seen in his videos, he was cocky and overconfident and a huge flirt, but what if that was all for the cameras? During your very brief interaction, he seemed polite and respectful even as you tried to throw yourself at him, something no other guy had ever done in that situation. 

Maybe you had gone about this all wrong. Maybe you needed a different approach. A more honest one…

You hurried around the other side of the truck so you were in front of him once more. Dropping all the over-the-top flirtatiousness from your voice, you said, “Okay, I’m sorry. I thought…it doesn’t matter what I thought, but the point is I shouldn’t have done that. I’ve had a really shitty day and approached this situation all wrong.”

Owens didn’t raise his head, but his eyes drifted back in your direction. Feeling like he was offering you a chance, you explained, ��Listen, the deal is I came here to surprise my brother with a visit, and as soon as he saw me, he told me he doesn’t want me here and I should fuck off out of his way.”

That got his attention. Looking up, his brow furrowed, Owens asked, “Your brother said that to you?”

You rolled your eyes and hit the heel of your palm against the side of the truck. “Well, not in those exact words but the sentiment was there. The point is, he told me he didn’t care where I went as long as I left him and his team alone. So, I plan on respecting his wishes…and wondered if I could hang out with your team instead.”

“Well–” He leaned back, clearly not interested in your request, but you cut him off before he could turn you down.

“Please! It’ll just be for a day or two. I promise not to get in the way or mess with any of your work. I just know he has a problem with you guys and seeing me with you will drive him insane.” 

Putting down the wrench he was holding, Owens shook his head. “Back up…who are we talking about now? Who’s your brother?”

You realized you needed to get better at introducing people into a conversation before jumping right in. “Scott? He works for Storm PAR?” He hesitated so you sighed and turned towards the other group of storm chasers at the other end of the lot. With one hand on your hip, you pointed lazily with the other, “The surly tall one who never takes off his stupid baseball cap?”

Instantly, Owens straightened up and you knew you had piqued his interest. Chuckling, he asked, “Wait, so you’re telling me Mr. Clipboard and Chewing Gum is your brother?” You nodded. “And you want my help messing with him?”

“Yeah, that about sums it up. So, will you do it?”

The cowboy leaned over the side of the truck and gave you a wide grin. “Oh, sweetheart, you’ve come to the right place.”

Part 2 coming 8/19!

[jjungkookislife]

Sunday, Monday: Thursday Halloween

pairing: bar tender!jungkook x bar tender! f. reader

genre: established relationship, 18+

summary: It's Halloween at the bar.

wc: 1.5k

warnings: sexual content, unprotected sex in a car, some fluff, jealousy, alcohol mention, daddy joke,

date: October 29, 2024

Sunday, Monday Masterlist

“Why aren’t you in your costume?” Jungkook asks as he opens the door to his SUV for you. You climb in, setting your bag in his backseat. 

“Because I knew you’d rip it off me before we even got inside,” you respond as you take a sip of your energy drink. 

“Fair,“ Jungkook giggles. “Are you wearing that silky soft maid outfit?”

“No,” you giggle, shaking your head. “You stained it with cum last weekend.”

“Oh, yeah,” Jungkook blushes. “Sorry!”

“No biggie, I had a backup.”

“Oooh, show me,” Jungkook pouts, but you kiss him before downing your energy drink. Jungkook watches you with hungry eyes as you set the drink in his cup holder. You lean over his lap, using the lever to push his seat back.

You straddle him, kissing him immediately.

Jungkook tilts his head back, allowing you to kiss his neck. His hands grip your hips, guiding your body on his lap.

“I don’t know why we couldn’t do a couple’s costume,” Jungkook whines when you nip his earlobe. He curses. He moves his hands to the small of your back as you kiss up to his jaw.

“Because we won’t get tips if they know we’re taken. You know our customers like to flirt,” You remind him.

“But Yoongi and Hoseok get to,” Jungkook pouts when you sit up, gripping his t-shirt to pull over his head. You toss it in the backseat, mindful to keep it close so you two won’t be late again.

“They’re married,” you snort, laughing when his eyes widen at the sound.

Jungkook furrows his brows as he thinks for a moment. You don’t notice as you pull your tank top over your head to toss in the empty passenger seat. Should you both move to the backseat? He’d get you on all fours and fuck you so deep. You moan at the thought.

“What if we do?” Jungkook suggests as he grins when you press your tits against him. You kiss him, your fingers threaded in his black hair.

“What, baby?” You murmur in between kisses as his hands grip the back of your thighs. He pushes your panties to the side. He doesn’t know why you still wear any around him when you know they’ll end up pushed to the side or lost in his SUV.

“Koo, what if we do what?”

Jungkook blinks. He’s captivated by your beautiful smile. Your hair frames your face beautifully, and his heart skips a beat. How was it possible to be so in love?

“Koo?” You wave your hand in front of him. “Hello?”

“Sorry,” Jungkook feels heat rush to his cheeks. “I just meant if we got married, we could do a couple’s costume.”

“You’d get married just to match one night of the year?” You ask with a raised brow, judging him.

Jungkook shakes his head. “No, of course not! I just meant…”

You kiss Jungkook, moaning softly when he holds the back of your head with his large hand. The two of you kiss as your clothes get removed, or pushed out of the way.

“I’m not proposing… yet,” Jungkook assures you as he slides home. You bite his shoulder to muffle your cries of pleasure, the stretch driving you wild. 

The windows are fogged up as you ride him slowly.

“I would hope not,” you whisper as you rock your hips. You cup his face. “I love you.”

“I love you,” he affirms as he kisses you.

You moan, cursing when he takes your breast into his mouth. Your fingers card through his long hair, moaning when his teeth nip your sensitive skin.

“I would though,” you whisper, breathily.

Jungkook looks up at you. The stars in his eyes shine brighter than ever before.

“I would,” You repeat. “I want it all with you.”

Jungkook nods, too overwhelmed to answer as he swallows the knot in his throat.

~

Security is tighter tonight. Masks aren’t allowed nor fake weapons. 

The bar is crowded as well as the dance floor.

Jimin’s shirt is already off, his costume hanging by the threads as he pours a bottle (of water) down his abs. The crowd goes wild as he empties the bottle on his incredible abs.

Yoongi surveys the crowd from the second floor. Hoseok is at the end of the bar with his private security. Namjoon tries to calm the waiting club goers in line as the streets outside fill with people out on Halloween weekend.

“What are you supposed to be?” You ask Jimin when the crowd finally calms down. Jimin giggles and points to the tiny headband on his head. “I’m an angel.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Uh-huh.”

Jimin rolls his eyes at you. “Tae’s the devil. Doesn’t he look cute?”

You watch Tae clear the empty glasses on the bar before heading to the back. The tiny headband on his head is red with tiny horns.

“How’d you get him to do that?” You ask as you wipe the counter.

“I have my ways,” Jimin smirks before he gets back to work. 

Seokjin approaches the bar, fanning himself. “A water please.”

You get him a bottle of water, opening the cap for him. He chugs half of it down before he sets it on the bar top. 

“It’s so hot in here,” He groans as he continues to fan himself. “Why is everyone here? There are other bars on this block.”

“Because we’re the best?” You supply, and Seokjin laughs.

“Mhmm,” He waves you off as he heads back to the entrance.

Jungkook is at the other end of the bar. His Suguro Geto costume is torn to bits. He rakes in the tips as he flirts with some of the customers.

You feel silly in your bunny costume. You still get a handful of tips in your jar, but watching Jungkook smile and flirt easily with others makes your heart sink. It’s just work. You’re the one who takes him home at the end of the night, the one he loves, the one he holds at night.

You smile, forcing those dark thoughts out of your mind. You need to make rent tonight so you giggle to stupid jokes and flirt with randoms.

“Oh, excuse me,” you giggle as you walk in front of Jungkook to reach the liquor bottle at the end of the bar. Your ass rubs against him, and he resists the urge to moan.

Jungkook tries to focus on his clientele, grinning when they buy him a shot. He pretends to wash it down with beer, but he spits the alcohol into it instead. Tips fill his jar as he moves to the next group, turning the charm to ten. If he wanted to get you the ring he thought you deserved, he would need lots of cash.

Break time comes quicker than he thought. Being busy at the bar, makes time fly as he heads up the stairs to the break room. He chugs a bottle of water by the time you walk in.

“Come sit on hubby’s lap,” Jungkook pats his lap and you giggle.

“Hubby, huh?” You question him.

“Would you prefer Daddy?”

“Boy, bye,” you cackle as you slide off his lap. His hands reach out for you, tugging you back. You laugh with him as you straddle him. He tugs on your bunny tail, giggling as he presses his forehead to yours.

“It’s so hard watching you flirt with others,” Jungkook admits.

“Same. Do you think I like seeing your top torn to shreds? Those customers need to keep their hands to themselves,” You huff.

“Actually,” Jungkook rubs the nape of his neck. “I ripped my top open. I thought body shots would rake in the cash.”

You laugh, shoving him. “Wow, Kook!”

“I made money,” he smiles before he kisses you. “Besides, you’re the only one I want.”

“Mhm.”

“You know I only want you, baby. Come home with me tonight. Wear the bunny ears.”

“You little freak,” you giggle. 

Jungkook shrugs. “I like what I like.”

“Is that right? Gonna breed me like a bunny? Pull my tail just to make me moan?”

“Fuck,” Jungkook groans. “Please, don’t tease me.”

You giggle, shaking your head before Yoongi pops his head in. He has a hand over his eyes, not wanting to see the two of you going at it.

“When you’re done making babies or whatever, can you help Jimin at the bar? Taehyung is doing well but Jimin’s doing body shots and dragged Seokjin into it.” Yoongi explains as he risks a peek at the two of you.

“Sure thing,” Jungkook nods as you get off his lap. You take his hand in yours, kissing him quickly before following Yoongi back to the bar.

Tomorrow you’ll hit the grocery store for discount candies, and Jungkook will plan your costumes for next year. Perhaps by then, you’ll be living together, handing candy out to all the neighborhood children.

Jungkook smiles at the thought as he joins you back at the bar.

[mikkomacko]

Him and I: Meet the Hischiers

Previous

Pairing: Mob Boss! Nico x Reader

Warnings: Alcohol, Nico's crappy parents, and mean girls

A/n: Ok I'm so sorry for how long this is, oh my god. I couldn't not add sweet moments between Nico and reader though, but I promise there's only one more chapter of them in Switzerland before they return to Jersey. Anyway, enjoy and please leave comments and thoughts and requests because I love writing mob boss Nico!

xo

~~~~

Nico’s childhood home is humongous. The SUV rolls up the cobblestone driveway to what you’d consider a mansion, honestly. At least three stories, with fields of snow covered grass and hedges, a looping driveway like at a hotel, and a bright red door.

Everything about it screams elegance.

And yet you can picture a tiny Nico toddling after his older siblings in the grass out front, chasing a soccer ball that was half the size of him.

The mental image eases your nerves enough that you’re able to teasingly scoff and smack at Nico’s arm.

“You didn’t tell me your house is the size of New Jersey!”

Nico rolls his eyes at your drama, taking your hand in his and shrugging. “Yes it’s beautiful,” he agrees “but there’s a reason we’re not staying here. Just remember that, ok?”

Dutifully you nod, but that doesn’t stop you from leaning forward to gape at Timo. Your friend just laughs, directing the car into the spot directly in front of the door.

“The Hischier’s are the closest thing to a royal family here,” he tells you. “And Nico is the delinquent prince that ran away from the crown.”

“Stop lying to her Timo.” Nico interjects, his tone hard and commanding. You immediately sink back into your seat, recognizing that for some reason that was a touchy subject.

You’ll ask him about it later when it’s just the two of you.

This time when the car stops, it’s different men in wool coats that pull open Nico’s car door. They greet him in Swiss German, nodding as he slides out and you follow, taking his outstretched hand and stepping onto the stone path.

They look taken aback by your presence, both sharing a look you can’t quite read before greeting you with a simple “miss.”

You smile, wrapping your hand around Nico’s bicep and pressing into his side. Timo falls into step with you, walking alongside as you head for the front door.

Walking into Nico’s childhood home is more like walking into a recently sterilizes hospital room than a house that three children grew up in. Everything is pristine, polished, and pearl white (or beige).

Not a single item in the main room indicates that a family lives here at all. Even the portrait of a man with a thick mustache and sharp nose hanging over the staircase isn’t friendly.

“Wow,” you breathe out, looking over at Timo. He must read the look in your eyes because he nods just once, clearing his throat when Nico shoots him a look over the top of your head.

“Come on baby,” Nico tells you, guiding you further into the house. “They’re probably in the sitting room.”

The sitting room is like a living room, only colder and not exactly lived in. His family is scattered around the large room, perched on white overstuffed furniture. The first to greet you is a light haired woman, and as soon as she smiles you know this is his mother.

“Nico darling!” She exclaims in an accented voice, one that resembles his but with a tone of superiority. Rising from the sofa, she waves the man next to her up. Even if you were seeing him through fogged glass you’d be able to tell he’s Nico’s father.

They have the same nose, same dark eyes that crinkle by the edges. He’s shorter and less broad than Nico, but their posture and gait are the same. Even the way his dark grey hair falls is similar to Nico’s.

They’re carbon copies of each other.

“Son,” the man greets, buttoning up his suit jacket. “The rumors were true then?”

“Rumors?” Nico asks, and his lack of greeting to his parents makes your stomach drop. Throughout the entirety of your relationship you never imagined Nico’s relationship with his family to be like this.

“Word from the airport was that you brought a guest.” His mother supplies, a polite smile being thrown at you. You return it, hanging to Nico’s bicep like a lifeline. Suddenly you feel pathetic, a random American girl pressed at the hip to the heir of a mob family that stretches three countries and two continents. Hiding in the shadow casted by not only Nico but Timo as well.

Maybe it’s a good thing Sieges and the others didn’t come along.

“Timo insisted on tagging along,” your boyfriend jokes and if you weren’t so stunned and stupid you would have laughed. “This,” he continues, prying his arm from your hold to wrap around the small of you back “isn’t a guest, she’s family.”

Steeling your nerves, you take a steady step forward. “Y/n,” you introduce, holding your hand out to his father. “It’s a pleasure to meet you sir.”

He takes your hand, squeezing gently as you meet his gaze. For looking so much like his son, he doesn’t actually resemble him. His eyes are threatening and dark rather than comforting and warm like Nico’s. Even the twitch of his lips feels like it was a muscle spasm.

“Rino,” he tells you. “But sir works better.”

You nod in agreement, now reaching out towards his mother. She’s just as calculated when it comes to introducing herself, her tone haughty and amused as she says “Katja.”

“Wonderful to meet you,” you say, smiling warmly despite the thudding of your heart against your ribcage.

“You as well,” she responds, then shoots her son a look. “I’m afraid we haven’t heard much about you y/n, or anything at all for that matter.”

Ignoring the blow, you settle back into Nico’s side. Timo cuts in, greeting them you think but you can’t really hear him over the voice in your head desperately reminding you that Nico loves you, Nico wants you here.

It’s not until Nico’s nose is pressed to your temple that you snap back into reality. “Breathe y/n,” he whispers, his voice just a tickle in your ear but strong and encouraging. “You’re doing perfect.”

Coming back to yourself, you take his hand in thanks as Katja directs her attention to the few men milling about the room. She speaks to them in Swiss German, an order obviously if them scurrying out of the room is anything to go by.

With her and Rino no longer focused on you for the moment, you helplessly look up at Nico. He’s already watching you, not even a hint of a smile on that handsome face of his. Even so, his gaze is solid and proud, and the subtle tilt of his head tells you enough.

It’s ok.

Your breath shudders, feeling weak under those eyes that know and read you so well. You look away, biting at the inside of your cheek to stop the welling feeling of tears. You have to stop before you let your thoughts run too wild, plagued by images of the sweet man before you living under the scrutinizing gazes of this family.

It’s difficult to even picture how he turned into the Nico you know and love.

The return of the workers distracts you, this time a man and woman following behind them. Another copy of Nico, his brother looks like he could be the elder twin of your boyfriend. The hair, the nose, the jawline, the walk. Must be a Hischier man thing.

And the woman, so obviously his sister, physically resembles Katja but her eyes hold that same twinkle that lights up Nico’s eyes.

“Luca, Nina-“ Katja says warmly. “Your brother is here. With guests.”

Nico sighs, anything he might say remaining unspoken when Nina steps between the two sides.

“Family, Mama.” She corrects, sending you a friendly wink. Like a million bricks have been lifted off your shoulders, you visibly relax at her welcoming.

“Nina,” she tells you “you have no idea how excited I am to meet you.”

She doesn’t hold out a hand, instead stretching out both arms to you. Laughing nervously, you accept her embrace, briefly squeezing her in appreciation and introducing yourself.

“Never thought I’d see Nico with such a beautiful woman,” she teases, an underlying sincerity in her words that warms your cheeks. “He must’ve finally learned how to shower properly.”

Nico mockingly laughs behind you, grumbling in his native tongue to his sister but he’s quick to hug her smaller frame. You almost laugh when he tucks into her shoulder, curling in like he’s supposed to be smaller than her. Like a younger sibling that’s forgotten he’s grown to be the tallest.

Luca greets you, not as warmly as Nina but with more friendliness than their parents. He plants two polite kisses to your cheeks, squeezing your biceps awkwardly before jumping into reuniting with Nico. Nina stands by her mother’s side, nodding at you just once as Katja and Rino tell Nico and Luca something you don’t understand.

Resilience renewed, you turn your head to Timo and he leans down so you can whisper in his ear. “You have to teach me something in German, I’m drowning here.”

He chuckles quietly, leaning into your ear. “I’ll try again but I’m not a miracle worker honey.” You blink at him, jabbing your elbow into him in annoyance. He does it back, jolting you and your gearing up to hit him back when a firm hand is reaching around your back and taking a hold of your elbow.

Easily and swiftly, Nico pulls you into his side. By the way Timo straightens up, you’d imagine he’s been silently scolded by his boss. Smirking, you bat your eyelashes at him and innocently press into Nico’s hold.

“We’ve prepared lunch, if you’re hungry.” Katja offers but she’s already directing everyone to another room. The three of you follow obediently, not having any other option really.

~~~~

Lunch is better than the family reunion that took place in the sitting room. With the distraction of food and a cook and his siblings, Katja and Rino don’t even spare you a second glance or get a chance to grill Nico about anything.

Anytime the Devs or New Jersey comes up, Luca or Nina will steer the conversation away. You’re sure it has something to do with everyone avoiding the topic of Nico’s leave of absence and lack of contact for the past few years, but you can’t be certain because it’s never said.

Nico has a hand on you throughout the whole meal, either lacing his fingers with yours or resting comfortably on your thigh. He makes sure that you eat enough, that your water is ok, that you don’t want more helpings. It’s sweet, the way he always communicates through his actions. Maybe he didn’t prepare you enough for this encounter like he should’ve, but physically he’s been here and done everything to let you know that he has your back.

Besides, after listening to his family carefully navigate around unsavory topics over lunch, you can see why he struggles with words.

Especially when his mother is hell bent on making it uncomfortable. The plates have barely been cleared away when she’s zeroing in on her youngest.

“I suppose it’s time you tell us why you’ve come back,” she says airily. “Or rather why you left?”

Nico’s fingers tighten around yours, eyelids fluttering in annoyance as he suppresses an eye roll. “Mother-“

“Everything was set up Nico,” she cuts in. “The house, the branch, Len-“

“That’s enough!” He cuts off gruffly, silencing Katja. You stroke your thumb over his knuckle, unsure of how to navigate him like this in front of his family. It’s different at home where you have a place, where it’s your job to step in and protect the boys from his angry bouts. But this is different, uncharted. You don’t have a spot in the lives of his family let alone a place to interject. Hell, you don’t even know the context of why Nico left either.

“Watch the tone Nico,” Rino says casually, “that’s your mother.”

Sighing, Nico shakes his head. “I’m here for the week, take it or leave it. And I didn’t come to answer questions you already have the answer for.”

You watch him look around the large table, meeting everyone gaze with a firmness he only gets on jobs and deals. When he receives a simple hum from his mother, he turns to you.

“Let’s go for a walk,” he says quietly, rising from his seat. You follow his lead, pushing your chair back in and sharing a nervous look with Timo.

Nico addresses his parents. “I’m gonna show y/n around the grounds.” Then he’s nudging you towards the hall, large hand on your back as you go.

“Put on a coat Nico!” His mother calls after you and he waves over his head in acknowledgment. You’re silent all the way back to the front door, putty in Nico’s hands as he zips you into your winter coat and slips his beanie over your head.

Returning the favor, the zip his own coat for him, adjusting the collar and hood so his ears and neck stay warm.

Nico doesn’t return to being your Nico until the side door of the house is closing behind you. Immediately he’s attaching himself to you, hunching down to wrap his arms around your waist and tuck his face into your neck. Rising to your toes, you bundle your arms around him as best you can with all the thick winter layers between you.

Closing your eyes, you breathe in the cold air and just hold him for a moment. You don’t let go until he’s pressing a kiss to your jaw, straightening out his posture and looking at you with those moony eyes of his.

“Show me the grounds,” you mock in a posh voice giggling when he rolls his eyes and offers his elbow to you. Taking ahold of him, you tuck your hands into your pockets and let him guide you down the shoveled paths.

The grounds stretch on forever, through untouched wooded land and open plains of snow. Nico shows you a tennis court, a basketball court, the indoor hockey setup him and Luca used religiously as children. You trudge through the snow with him, winter air nipping at your nose and dry lips aching as your awe of the place kept growing and growing. Every ten steps was something new, some fond memory Nico’s dug up of his childhood.

“I almost broke my ankle trying to do cartwheels,” Nico laughs, gaze sweeping over the open area in which Nina apparently tried to teach Nico gymnastics. “She hadn’t even done gymnastics herself, but I wanted her to think I was cool so I did it.”

Giggling, you shake your head at him. “You can’t do a cartwheel?” You ask incredulously. Nico scoffs, shaking his head like it should be obvious. Releasing his arm, you strut to the open space in front of him and throw your arms up.

“Watch and learn Nico baby.” You tease, winking before executing a perfect cartwheel. The snow is cold on your hands, bites at your fingers but you do a couple more anyway just to show off.

Nico exclaims in surprise, staring at you with his jaw dropped and dimples in his cheeks. “Alright, just rub it in my face!” He complains and you laugh, giving him a bow. Leaning down he scoops up some snow, quickly packing it together. You have just enough time to curl into yourself before he’s throwing it at your torso.

Squealing, you dig your numb hands into the snow to throw one back. Dodging and ducking through laughter, you and Nico pelt each other with snow until your hands are so frozen you think they might fall off.

In surrender, you leap at him and throw your arms around his neck. The shock of your bitter cold fingers on his bare skin makes him jump and he goes crashing to the ground, taking you with him.

Luckily he breaks your fall, and the snow breaks his so it’s still giggles when you cup his jaw, sitting up to check him for injuries. He’s got snow in his hair and eyelashes, his cheeks and nose glowing red as he bites at his bottom lip to try and contain his smile.

“You’re so handsome,” you whisper, the words mostly spoken to yourself but in the large, silent estate they carry. Nico’s cheeks redden even more, eyes glimmering with love. Then, thinking of the cold man from whom Nico got his looks, you quickly add “inside and out.”

His face falls with realization, a look of sympathy flashing through his eyes. Not that he should be sympathetic about anything, these people didn’t raise you. “I should’ve warned you,” he says “I just didn’t want to scare you. And I didn’t want you to think I don’t love them because I do, they’re just different.”

The snow has begun soaking into your pants, stinging your skin and you imagine Nico’s butt must be just as cold. Yet he makes no move to get up, just stares up at you from the ground with those all-telling eyes of his.

“You warned me,” you say “maybe not intentionally but you did.” From wasting away the morning with you to the way he always had a protective hand on you today, Nico warned you the best way he knows how. With protective actions.

Brushing his hair off his forehead, you ask “wanna talk about it?” Nico sighs, cheeks puffing up as he does so and the cloud of his breath dances in between you. He agrees though, nodding for you to get up so you climb off his lap and take his hand to help him up.

Nico takes both of your hands in his, squeezing them before drawing the up to his lips. Eyebrows pinched together in concentration, he breathes hot hair in an attempt to warm them up for you. After a moment he squeezes them again, frowning when they’re still too cold for his liking.

Giggling, you pull your hands back and hug his arm. “I’m ok, let’s just go back and we can talk somewhere warm.”

Pressing a kiss to the top of your head, Nico agrees. Oblivious to the figure looming on the balcony that overlooks the grounds, he leads you back towards the house, feet crunching in the snow.

~~~~

Clothes sopping wet and cold, you shuffle into Nico’s old bedroom and immediately begin shedding your winter layers. Unsure of everyone else’s whereabouts in the house, Nico closes the door and locks it before he too strips out of his clothes.

In just his boxers he disappears into the closet and you take the opportunity to look around his room. A large bed sits in the middle of the room, a fluffy blue quilt that matches the accent wall covering it. An old ratty teddy bear sits on the bed, looking out the large window across the room. The view is beautiful, snow covered mountains and white topped trees. There’s a desk in the corner, the top of it empty but the shelves have a few books and childhood awards scattered on them.

You tiptoe over, notice most of the awards have a soccer or hockey player on them. There’s one of a boy snowboarding and one engraved with a book, and though you can’t read them inscription, the year on them tells you that Nico was under 16 when he won all these.

A photo you’ve seen on his phone is hung up next to the desk, Luca and Nina holding a baby Nico on a beach somewhere, all chubby cheeks and blonde hair.

A poster of a Swiss tennis player hangs next to the bed, a few more photos scattered around the room. You don’t get the chance to examine them because Nico strolls back into the room with a ball of clothes in his hands.

“Not sure when these were last washed but it should be fine,” he shrugs, dropping the mess of items to the bed. He digs out a pair of boxers, some dark sweats, and a long sleeve for you. You happily accept the dry clothes, stripping out of your damp underwear and bra.

Nico’s Calvin’s are a little tight when you shimmy them up you hips but not uncomfortable. You pull the sweats on, rolling the waistband so they don’t hang over your feet. It’s not until you’re tugging the shirt over your head that you notice Nico is standing butt naked across from you, boxers in hand as he shamelessly watches you change.

Knowing where this going, you quickly pull the shirt on, raising an unimpressed eyebrow at him. “Put that thing away and start talking Hischier.”

He chuckles, beginning to get dressed. You sit on the bed, reaching over for the teddy and pulling it into your lap. “What do you want to know?”

“I know how you ended up in Jersey,” you say, fingers rubbing at the soft fabric of the bears ear. “Inheritance from your grandfather and wanting to get away from here. But I always thought it was because you’re the youngest, ya know? You like to be in charge and you can’t do that with Luca and Nina being in line for everything,”

Nico lets you talk, pulling on his teeshirt and settling into the bed next to you.

“But your parents said everything was lined up. What did they mean?”

Nico sighs, eyes dropping to his lap and he fiddles with the tie on his sweats. You turn to look at him, walking the teddy bear across the mattress and plopping it in his lap. He doesn’t look at you but a dimple sinks into his cheek and he takes the bear from you.

“My parents were trying to branch out, stretch the business like they did sending Nina to France. They had this whole mock up of me using my inheritance to move to Germany and head everything there.

“But they wanted to send someone with me. This girl whose father does business with mine. We had a thing kind of when we’re younger, not dating but like when I wanted to be with someone she was there. So they added a wedding to the plan and invited her to join the family.”

There’s no reason to be jealous of this girl, whoever she is. You know that, but that doesn’t stop you from feeling a little nauseous thinking of his family picking out a wife for him.

“What did you say?” You murmur, slipping your fingers under his shirt and stroking the warm skin of his stomach. Nico picks at a thread on the bear, taking a deep breath.

“Nothing, to them. I took the money and some buddies and left. Told Nina I was starting my own family in Jersey, that I didn’t want to be married or in Germany.

“That’s how I got Timo, Sieges, and Bratter to join me. We’d all been friends for a while and they hated the girl. My parents didn’t know, but she’d been after Luca the whole time she was with me. He was too focused on taking over here in Switzerland though. That’s why she wanted him, she wanted to be the queen or whatever of Switzerland. “

“Why’d she agree to marry you then?”

Nico looks up now, shrugging. You inch closer to him, stomach feeling sick and he must know you don’t particularly like to hear this story because he nudges you into his lap. Straddling his thighs, you relax forward into his chest and let him wrap his arm around you.

“Because one of us was better than neither I guess. I had a feeling she assumed she could marry me and then convince me to push Luca out or something. I don’t know but I didn’t say a word to her either, I just left.”

You nod, the joke Timo made in the car earlier finally adding up. Nico was the prince lined up to be married and grow the business, to make his family stronger. Instead he took his power and his means elsewhere. He built his own kingdom.

“I think you’re so smart Nico,” you mumble, “not many 18 year old boys would be able to do what you did.”

Nico tucks the bear into your chest and you hug it. “I had help,” he says “but it was the best decision I ever made. I got you from it.”

His phone buzzes on the nightstand, interrupting you two. You feel him reach over for it, holding you tighter as he leans over.

“Nina invited us to go out tonight for drinks,” he says. “She wants to have fun without my parents around.”

“Is Timo invited?”

“Yes, Timo is invited.” Nico laughs, stroking your hair.

“Ok. I have to go home for new clothes though.”

Nico hums his agreement, still stroking your hair. You cuddle into him, hugging the teddy bear tighter as you sort through everything he told you. It’s impossible for you to see how some girl had Nico right in front of her, was lined up to spend the rest of her life with him and instead made him feel unwanted.

How could anyone not pick him? How was she not begging on her knees to run away to Jersey with him?

“Nico?”

“Yes baby?”

“I want you,” you whisper. “I always have and I always will. I’d do anything for you.”

You think of everything you’ve given up for Nico, the life you’d left behind for him and it doesn’t even phase you. Because he’s worth it, always worth it.

“Trust me, I know my love,” he assures but you can hear the relief in his tone. Then he’s giggling boyishly, digging his nose into the top of your head. “I knew as soon as met you that there was no getting rid of you.”

Blushing, you close your eyes and enjoy his embrace, enjoying a moment with just him.

~~~~

Luca owns the bar that Nina had invited you too. Technically the business owns it, but it was Luca’s investment plan that acquired it and it’s his staff that runs it.

You find that out as Nico leads you by the hip to the sectioned off tables in the back. Luca and a few other guys mill about the table, some you recognize from seeing around the house today. Nina is there too, her long hair pulled back into a slick pony and she’s sipping from a fruity cocktail with a blonde girl.

“You made it!” Luca greets upon seeing his brother, his demeanor much more welcoming and laidback than earlier. You let go of Nico’s hand so he can hug Luca again, his eyes crinkling as he laughs.

Timo bro-hugs Luca before disappearing back into the common area, most likely heading to the bar. You’re reaching for Nico’s hand again when Luca crouches down to meet your gaze, glossy eyes and smile shining at you.

He looks so much like Nico.

“There she is!” He shouts, charging you with open arms. You laugh in shock when he scoops you up in a hug, drink sloshing against your back as he sways back and forth.

“Hi Luca,” you giggle, awkwardly rubbing your hand up and down his back. “Nice to see you again.”

He drops you to your feet, gripping your elbow when you stumble. Not that it’s needed; Nico’s hand found your lower back as soon as your toes touched the polished floors.

“You know, I never understood why Nico loved Jersey so much,” he shouts over the music and chatter “but I get it now. I like you a lot even if my parents don’t.”

You’re not shocked to hear that but you dramatically gasp anyway. “Your parents don’t like me?!” You cry, holding a hand over your heart. “What’ll we ever do?”

Luca laughs at you, taking a swig of his beer before shaking his head fondly. “Fuck ‘em,” he says casually “Nico’s better off with you anyway.”

Your cheeks heat up at his words, flattered by the praise. You were hesitant about Luca earlier, not knowing if he liked you or not. He was harder to read than Nico and Nina but you assume that’s the oldest sibling in him.

Without another word he’s walking away, stumbling towards the pool tables with some friends. Nico leans in over your shoulder, nose brushing your temple.

“He’s a friendly drunk,” he explains “but he really does like you.”

You turn towards him. “He’s funny,” you say “I like him too.”

Pressing the lightest kiss to your cheekbone, Nico nods towards the bar. “Something with vodka?” He asks and you peek around him at Nina.

“I want what Nina is drinking.”

Amused, he nods and takes you by the hand. He approaches the booth, leaning over towards his sister to mumble something in her ear. You don’t hear what she says back but Nico straightens out, stepping out of the way and nudging you to sit down. Happily, you slide into the seat next to Nina and accept her giddy hug.

Nico sweeps your hair over your shoulder, squeezing your neck briefly before going to get your drink.

“Oh this is Maja,” Nina introduces you to her friend. You reach over the table to shake her hand and introduce yourself.

“I’m with Luca,” Maja tells you, her pretty blue eyes sparkling. “Sorry I missed lunch today, I tend to skip those gatherings as often as I can.”

“I totally understand!” You laugh,” I’ll have to keep that in mind for next time.”

Nina gasps, gripping your arms as she beams at you. “You’re gonna come back?!”

Giggling, you nod. “Well yeah, I know Nico misses you and Luca and it hasn’t been bad. Besides, it’s beautiful here!”

“You have to visit in the summer!” Maja tells you, “we can make fondue and float the river.”

Nina agrees telling you all about how that was Nico’s favorite thing to do when he was younger. Then she’s inviting you to France, telling you all about the beautiful French men and how much you’d love them.

You let her chatter on, laughing at her antics. French men aren’t exactly your forte, especially not when you’re dating a Swiss man but you can remind her about that later.

“Nina,” Nico interrupts, placing your drink in front of you. “are you trying to set my prinzessin up with a Frenchie?”

Sliding in next to you, he wraps his arm around your stomach and draws you back into his chest. His sister gapes at him, so shocked by his words she’s gone speechless and you shyly sip your drink.

“Prinzessin, Nico!” She gasps, holding her heart. Nina tells him something in Swiss German, reaching around you to excitedly shove her brother.

His response is also lost on you but you can tell by Nina’s moony eyes and how he hunches into you that it was something loving and sweet. “Soon, soon.” Nico finally says, taking a drink of his beer and setting it next to yours.

“Hey don’t talk about me when I can’t understand what you’re saying.”

Laughing, Nico presses a kiss to your temple. “Sorry baby,” he says, squeezing your shoulders. You turn to face him, sliding your leg over his lap.

“You didn’t tell me about Maja,” you murmur, fiddling with the straw in your drink. Nico’s eyebrows pinch together, lips pursing in confusion as he looks around the bar.

“Who?”

“Nico oh my god,” you gasp “Luca’s girlfriend-wife-whatever?”

Some clarity washes over his face and he giggles, glancing across the booth to Maja. Lowering his lips to your ear, “I thought her name was Maria,” he whispers and you laugh.

“I don’t know, Luca got with her after I left and he’s not chatty on the phone. For all I know he’s already married her.”

You look over your shoulder at her hand. “No ring,” you tell him “and I don’t think he’d get married without telling you.”

Nico shrugs, taking a swig of his beer before holding it out to you. You slide him your drink, trying the tangy beer he’s been nursing. It’s not bad but beer isn’t your favorite so you quickly hand it back.

“That’s sweet,” Nico says, smacking his lips and returning it to you. “Too sweet, Jesus Christ.” You laugh, snacking an arm around his shoulders and digging your fingers into the strands of hair at the nape of his neck.

“It’s not that bad,” you argue, guiding him closer to you. Smirking, those dark eyes of his dance across your face before settling on your lips. He does the rest of the work for you, capturing your mouth in a sloppy kiss.

“Mmm,” he hums, pulling back and swiping his tongue across his lips. “Better.”

His voice has that gruffness to it, heavy and thick, and not just because his accent is stronger now that he’s home. It makes your neck and ears feel hot, stomach flipping.

“No PDA in my bar Nico!” Luca’s shouting makes you jump, almost knocking Nico’s beer across the table and him and Timo snicker as they sit across from you.

“Bar PDA is his favorite,” Timo laughs, winking at you. “How do you think they ended up together?”

You can’t even argue with him. Nico is notorious for being handsy, especially when he’s out and drinking.

“Really?” Luca hums, slinging an arm around Maja. “It used be like pulling teeth just to get him to look at girl around here.”

And well, that’s news to you. Although you suppose if he planned on leaving Switzerland anyway and he had that girl to fool around with whenever he wanted, what’s the point? You’re well aware that he was never looking for love.

Nico quickly changes the topic, asking Timo about his day with his family tomorrow and you join Nina and Maja as they sift through songs on the online jukebox to play.

The queue stacks up, your drink starts to run out, and Nico leaves with Timo and his brother to go play pool. Nina leaves the phone with Maja, taking you by the hand to the bar where she orders more drinks and drops them on Nico’s tab. Not that it matters, you doubt he pays for drinks here anyway.

“I’m gonna head to the restroom,” you tell her, and she takes your drink back to the closed off section. The bathrooms are in the opposite back corner, a group of girls huddled in front of the door so you line up behind them.

Your phone buzzes in hand, Nico’s contact lighting up the screen and you almost laugh. Of course he noticed you were missing.

I’ve lost my pretty girl

Biting your lip, you text back bathroom break ♥️

The typing dots pop up and you’re anxiously awaiting his response when the conversation around you catches your attention. Specifically the mention of Nico’s name.

“He’s still as hot as ever,” a dark haired girl in front of you comments, and you keep your eyes on your phone so they don’t think you’re eavesdropping.

“Do you think she’s actually with him or is that just another fuck you to his parents?”

Nico’s text comes through, but you can’t focus enough to read it. “I mean, she doesn’t look his type so who knows. Didn’t he say he wasn’t into commitment Lena?”

Out of the corner of your eye, a tall and leggy brunette twirls her hair around her finger and shrugs. “If he were into commitment don’t you think he’d be with me right now? It’s definitely just to piss off his parents, I mean did you see the size of her? Typical American girl.”

Suddenly you feel sick, like everything you’ve ever eaten is choking up in your throat and about to spew all over the mean girls in front of you.

“I heard he put her in the family,” a quieter voice says. “Timo was talking about it at the bar with Luca. He’s calling her his princess.”

The leader-Lena, scoffs. “Princess? She hasn’t even got a pendent let alone a ring.”

Maybe this why Nico doesn’t talk about his exes. They’re mean and petty little girls, girls that haven’t moved on in over 5 years. That doesn’t make it any easier to hear though.

“Probably another one of his deals. He fucks her, she pretends to be serious with him for a family trip.”

“Why would he decide to come back now with a fake girlfriend?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Lena laughs, loud and proud. “He must have heard that I’m back at the estate.”

You decide that’s enough, pocketing your phone and clearing your throat. All the girls jump at the noise, turning to face you and you smile.

“Are you in line for the bathroom or just gossiping?” You ask politely, smirking as the color drains from all their faces. All except Lena, who looks you up and down before sheepishly nodding for you to go ahead.

“Thanks, I appreciate it.” You say, stopping in the doorway to look at her. “You’d think Luca would have bathrooms strictly for family but I guess not.”

Embarrassed, they all laugh awkwardly and you close the door behind you. What the fuck?

~~~~

By the time you’ve returned to the booth, you’ve shaken off the word of those girls. You trust Nico, you know Nico loves you, and high school bullies that pick on girls weight and nationality aren’t going to change that.

Nico is still playing pool, but he catches your eye and winks as you settle in next to Nina. Smirking, you blow him a kiss before Nina is handing you music rights. Sipping on your drink, you pull up your playlist on your phone and find the Swiss songs Nico likes. Adding his favorite to the queue you hand the phone back.

“How do you know that song?” Maja asks you, chewing on the end of her straw. You take another sip of yours.

“Nico plays it every time we’re in the car.” You say, catching the eye of Lena over Maja’s shoulder. She simply raises an eyebrow you, throwing back whatever shot is in hand and purses her lips.

“Hey, do you guys know her?” You suddenly ask, nodding towards the bar where Lena is now perched over the top to steal cherries from behind the counter.

“Oh,” Nina mumbles, laughing awkwardly. “Rino does business with her father and uh…”

“She was into Nico?” You supply, glancing over at your boyfriend. Maja bites her lip, hesitantly nodding.

“She was supposed to marry him.” Nina tells you, lowering her gaze to the table. Suddenly it all clicks; the comments about sleeping with him, about him not committing, about using me.

The song changes, the beat immediately catching the attention of Nico who stands up taller and looks over at you. You smile, wiggling your fingers at him as Nina laughs.

“I never thought Nico could be so romantic.” Maja teases you, not that you get it. The rap song is lost on you, any translation you’ve tried to look up being even more confusing. So you just enjoy the beat of it usually.

“What?”

Nina laughs, finally realizing that you can’t understand Swiss German. “It’s a love song,” she tells you, and then she’s pulling up the lyrics and translating them for you.

It’s a lot of nonsense, cute tidbits about how the artist loves the habits and traits of his lover. But the chorus is sweet, a declaration of him finding love after being told he would always be on his own.

Unable to help yourself, you swallow down the rest of your drink and scramble out of the booth. Nico is watching you, bottom lip caught between his teeth as you approach him. He’s leaning on the pool stick but as soon as you get close he’s moving it aside.

You crash into him, bury your nose in his hoodie and holding his waist tightly. “What’s her deal?” Luca slurs, but he goes ignored. Nico squeezes you just once, swaying side to side in time with the song.

Closing your eyes, you think of him singing along in the car, humming it in the shower while he washes your hair for you, blasting it through the house when you two clean together.

“Who translated it for you?” He finally murmurs, his smile present in his tone.

“Your sister,” you say, resting your chin on his chest and looking up at him. He’s all white teeth and dimples when you meet his gaze, eyes glimmering with pride. “Her and Maja think you’re very romantic.”

Nico shrugs but doesn’t argue. The pool balls clink behind you and then Timo is hollering. “Game over Luca, pay up.”

Luca mutters something in Swiss, heading to the bar with his head low. You let go of Nico, giving Timo a chance to high five you both.

“Let me teach you to play,” Nico tells you, handing you the pool stick. You follow him to the end of the table, letting him show you how to rack up the balls. Timo chalks up your stick for you, tells you about the cue ball.

And you go about your night, teaming up with Nico to play Timo. He stands behind you for every shot, large hands over yours on the pool stick and his warm chest tight against your back.

It feels so good to have him wrapped around you that you don’t even notice the staring eyes of Lena and her friends.

And you don’t bring her up to Nico, though you probably should’ve.

Next

[taurasiscntybun]

Breaking in the rookie pt 2

- 18 plus minors DNI

- DT x fem reader (no y/n)

- warnings: Adult language, graphic descriptions of sex, Dom/sub, age gap, degradation/praise, mommy kink, spit, light impact play, oral (giving)

-3,300 words

-Thanks to my editor and fellow h*rny sister @taurasicomplex

The drive to your team apartment was full of nervous energy, her black suv following your own car closely as if she didn’t know how to get there, a lie of course, she was well aware of how to get to the team housing but it seemed like some sort of intimidation tactic.

“Fuck, what the fuck was I thinking, Jesus my house isn’t even clean.” You say to yourself as you pull up to the apartments. The reality of her being in your home hitting you.

Diana follows you into the breezeway and up the stairs, her tall frame a looming presence at your back; it was both nerve wracking and intoxicating. You open the door to your one room apartment and usher her inside, glancing around at the unpacked boxes you flush a little in embarrassment.

“I, uh, haven’t finished unpacking.”

“Yeah I can see that, it looks like a fucking tornado in here.” She glances around the living room then back to you.

“Well I wasn’t expecting company.”

”You invited me?”

“That was an accident”

”You accidentally invited me to your house?”

”It was an impulsive invite, don't judge my house and take your shoes off please” You shut the doors behind you and kick off your shoes, leaving you in your mismatched colorful socks. She follows your lead and pulls off her sneakers, her socks a nice matching black. You motion for her to sit on the couch, quickly tossing the nest of blankets and fluffy pillows to the end. She watches you closely as you walk to the kitchen, her eyes tracking you like a predator watching their prey. You open the fridge and pull out the cheap bottle of peach fizzy wine and grab two mugs from the cabinet.

“You don't even have wine glasses? Shit it really was an accident inviting me over.” She watches you walk back into the living room and you can see she’s already made herself at home; reclined on your couch with her legs spread in front of her, she’s so easily taken over your space, her presence making the room feel smaller than it is.

“Uh I usually just drink everything out of mugs to be honest, I like the handles.” You pass her a mushroom shaped mug which she takes although she looks dubious.

“You can’t even have normal mugs? What are you five? Why the fuck is everything covered in flowers and shit.”

“It’s a mushroom not a flower, flora and fungi are two separate things.”

“You know they call me a fun-guy”

“That wasn’t even a good joke Dee.”

“They can’t all be winners, though statistically I am. Sit down and open the wine, you're acting like a skittish little animal, I don't bite unless you want me too.”

“I- Jesus, Dee you just say anything dont you.” You sit down on the opposite side of the couch, next to your comforting wad of pillows and blankets, all of them a different pattern making the pile a chaotic mess of color.

”I mean most of it, just kinda comes out, its always what I’m thinking.” She shrugs and reclines more, resting one of her hands behind her head, the other holding the mug out to you for her drink. The mushroom mug looks tiny and out of place in her obscenely large hand. You try not to think too hard about the implication she might be thinking about biting you and instead focus myself on unscrewing the cap.

”I know the wines gonna be shit if it's a screw top, that shits peach does that even count? Gonna taste like Im drinking fucking juice.” She complains as you fill her mug with the light pink wine, it fizzes a little threatening to spill and she quickly slurps some of it. You stare half dazed at the way her lips wrap around the rim, her tongue licking up the slight spill down the side.

“You ok there rook?” She flits her eyes up at you, the warm brown pools of dark honey searching your face.

”Yeah sorry, just embarrassed at my shit pour.”

“God this shit tastes like a bad hangover, at least we have afternoon practice tomorrow.” She complains but takes another sip. You fill up your own mug and suddenly half the bottle is gone.

“Drink some water, you'll survive.” You settle a little more in your seat, tucking your feet under you and reaching for the remote. Your two positions so different, her open and almost demanding space and you tucked up in the corner of the couch. You open your WNBA app and click to the game from tonight. You immediately mute the audio, not wanting to hear the announcers constantly gassing up Diana and probably criticizing you. Cindy and Anne were kind and a lot more forgiving to you as announcers but still you knew they’d have shit to say about your tech and you didn’t need it.

Halfway through the game and the whole way through the bottle of wine you pause it.

”Why are you being so nice? You haven’t criticized my plays at all, not even my missed layup.”

“Sorry I was trying to be supportive.” She snorts and finishes off her second mug of wine. She pauses her drinking and looks at you, her gaze intense as she studies you.

”Do you.. do you want me to be mean? It fucking seems like you do, what do you like it when I get all mad?” She teases and leans a little closer to you; you're still plenty far apart but she’s suddenly dominating the shared space. You laugh nervously and try to play cool even though you're obviously flustered.

”No I- don't be ridiculous who would want such a thing it's just unexpected.” You babble out and seem to shrink back against the side of the couch a little more. She sits her mug on the floor and leans in even closer, her body angling towards you now.

“I don't think that's true, rook. I think you invited me over specifically to berate you a little bit. Is that what you want? You want me to punish you for getting a tech? Tell you what a shit job you did today?” Her voice drops lower as her eyes search your face; despite her bravado and bold words you can tell she’s a little nervous she might have crossed a dangerous line. You swallow your nerves and decide to be bold as well, assuring her that she is reading you right.

”Maybe I do.” You say softly your voice nearly a whisper.

”Hmm what was that? Speak up rook.” Diana teases, her voice taking on more of the commanding tone she used on the court, proving she definitely heard you but wanted to hear you say it again.

”I said maybe I do. Maybe I like it when you get onto me. Maybe I like you a little mad.” You jut your chin out defiantly and she grins.

”I see, you brought me here for your own fantasy right? Are you gonna get off to me yelling? Wait till I leave and reach your hand down your cute little pink panties?” She moves even closer, reaching out to grab your leg, tugging you closer with a smug grin.

”I- fuck Dee you can’t say shit like that unless you mean it.” You say then gasp as she forces you to close the distance, her large hand feeling like a brand on your skin even through your sweatpants.

“What you think I don't mean it? Hate to break it to you baby but I’ve been thinking about the little bow on your panties all night.” Diana's voice drops to a husky whisper as her hand creeps further up your leg. You look at her, mouth agape at the implication.

“You can drive me crazy out there in your little rolled up fucking shorts. I can almost see your ass half the time. Was that your plan? Make yourself look like fucking candy to me so Ill come over?” Her hand brushes the inside of your knee and you look from her hand to her face and see no hint of teasing. She means it.

”Maybe I want you to think about my ass. Having dirty thoughts about your rookie.” You shoot back and she gives a huff.

”I can’t help it when you serve yourself up to me like a fucking dessert. Tell me what you want rook. You have to tell me you want this or ill stop right now and we never have to talk about it again.” She pulls her hand away slightly and you realize she wants your permission to continue, she wants to make sure you really want this too.

”Fuck. Yes Diana, I want you.” You say with more conviction than you meant. Her answering grin is practically feral as her hand touches you again, this time on your inner thigh and tighter.

”Let me guess you want me to order you around? You want me to be like I am on the court? Tell you you're acting like a little slut inviting me over like this.” Her words are phrased as a question but you suck in a breath nonetheless.

“Y..yes I do,” You hesitate for a moment, “I want you to tell me what to do, order me around Diana. I..I'm your little slut tonight.” Your voice is a little shaky as she continues her slow ascent up your thigh.

“Aww what was that baby, I'll need you to say it again, like you mean it.” You didn’t realize she had gotten so close, her large frame practically draped over you, caging you in.

“I..” You clear your throat. “I'm your little slut and I want you to tell me what to do.”

“Good girl, see, was that so hard? Now get on your fucking knees.” Her voice dropped an octave as she clearly commanded you. You move without a second thought, sliding off the couch and sitting back on your heels, the empty wine bottle clatters over; the sound loud in the suddenly tense space.

“Closer baby I can’t quite reach you all the way over there.” She reclines back on the couch and spreads her legs again, signaling you to rest between them. You move between her legs and lift to your hands to the waist of her shorts but she grabs your wrists quickly.

“So eager already. Turn and watch the tv baby, the games only half over.” She pushes your hands off her and roughly turns you so you're facing away from her and to the tv. Diana turns the tv back on and reclines again, absently stroking your hair, her strong thighs half trapping you between them. You lean into her touch without meaning too and her hand suddenly grips your hair, pulling your head back so your eyes are locked on the tv.

“You missed my perfect assist right then, you fucked up my game. What do you have to say for yourself baby?” Her fingers dig into your scalp as she leans down to you, her breath ghosting over the shell of your ear.

“I..I’m sorry.” You stutter and she releases your hair and leans back up, her hand patting your cheek slightly harder than you were expecting.

”Good girl, you should be fucking sorry.” She goes back to her slow almost petting of your hair and you lean against her thigh. Diana uses the opportunity to let her hand wander down to cup your cheek then her fingers brush against your neck. Your heart rate spikes under her soft but claiming touch.

“You’re so worked up baby, relax.” She practically purrs and traces a finger down your pulse point, just dipping under your collar. She hooks her finger under your bra strap and lets it snap against your skin, You let out a tiny gasp, your breath picking up even under her slow touch.

”Diana” You say in a needy whisper, she’s barely done anything but already worked you up into a needy mess. Her hand stills.

”What baby?” She asks in a softer tone, worried she’d gone too far.

“I.. I need you please” You beg and immediately she resumes her touch, satisfied that you're enjoying this.

“You think you deserve a reward already baby girl? So greedy.” Diana leans back up and places both hands on your shoulder, her lips right by your ear.

“I'm feeling generous baby since you’ve listened to me so well.” She nips your earlobe, tugging it between her teeth gently.

“You wanted me so bad earlier, ok babygirl you can have some of me. Turn around.” Her last words are a command as she spreads her legs a little more and lifts her hips to tug down her shorts. You turn quickly and help her pull down her shorts, your fingers hook under the waistband of her boxers.

”No, I didn’t say you could do that yet, you have to earn it babygirl” She gently strokes your cheeks, the caring motion seemingly at odds with her stern words.

“O..ok” You say, a little unsure what to do.

“You can touch me baby, make me want you, drive me crazy.” She pats your cheek again before reclining back on the couch, she seems to not even pay attention as her eyes watch the game. You swallow your nerves and tentatively kiss along the inside of her thigh, one of your hands going up to her boxer clad core.

”You're so shy now baby, touch me like you mean it.” She grabs your wrist and presses your hand more firmly against her cunt. You use your thumb to press against her, she’s in control but you can feel how wet she is through her boxers. She lets out a low groan as you return to kissing up her thigh, you're more confident in your movements now, kissing and sucking, alternating thighs as your hands still rub her through her clothes.

”That’s it baby you're doing so good.” Her hand tangles in your hair again, her hand just resting on the back of your head. You nip and suck the inside of her thigh and groan again, her fingers tightening.

“Keep fucking going. You like to talk so much on the fucking court, use your fucking mouth now princess.” You can’t stop the small moan that escapes you as you lick up her cunt, her wetness mixing with the taste of fabric in a surprisingly erotic way. You push your face harder against her, sucking the fabric into your mouth a little.

“Fuck that’s right baby, you want to taste my pussy dont you?” You nod against her and flit your eyes up to meet hers.

“Your words princess, you have to use your words.” Her grip tightens in your hair again.

”I want your pussy, please Diana let me taste you.” You say, the need in your voice is surprising even yourself.

“Ok baby” She lifts her hips to help you pull her boxers off, your own cunt dripping with need as you see her bare before you.

”Fuck” You say quietly, taking her in for the first time. To you she’s perfect everywhere and her cunt is no different. She’s not shaved but not wild either, the dark hair matching her curls; she’s already so wet, her pussy practically glistening and inviting.

“Go on baby, you wanted me so bad.” Her tone is commanding but you can hear the hitch in her voice telling you she needs you just as much as you want her. You don’t answer with words but instead lick up her folds, your face half buried against her. You moan as her taste hits your tongue and she lets out a sharp breath, clearly restraining herself.

“Don’t be a fucking tease baby.” She says, her voice a little shaky now. You move faster, your tongue lapping at her clit greedily, hands braced on her thighs. Diana lets out a low groan and pushes your head against her more. You move your face down a little, your tongue swirling around her entrance.

“Fuck baby you're such a good girl such a good fucking girl.” Her hips rise off the couch a bit to meet your mouth. You moan and suck her folds into your mouth, using your tongue to flick at her clit.

“God dont fucking stop, just like that baby, make me cum.” Her hips buck slightly and her eyes flutter closed. This spurs you on and you move with vigor, sucking and slurping at her clit, moving up and down from her core and back, the lewd noises mingling with her quiet groans.

“Fuck, shit, good baby, good girl, eat my fucking pussy princess fuck dont stop.” Her words are a breathy babble as she starts to grind against your face more, her movements growing sloppy. You move one hand from her thigh and and circle your thumb around her entrance as you lavish her clit. She lets out a strangled groan as you push two fingers inside her.

“Oh god baby fuck” She pants her hips bucking. You crook your fingers, brushing against her inner wall and suck her clit into your mouth. She gasps and her eyes fly open.

“Im gonna cum baby, Im gonna cum all over your fucking face and you're going to take it, fuck look at me when you make me cum.” She commands and you can feel her tightening around my fingers. You bring my eyes up to meet hers. Her face is flushed, her pupils blown out in lust. You pump your fingers in and out of her, hooking them slightly, swapping between swirling your tongue around her clit and sucking it into your mouth. Finally you can feel her on the brink and you let your teeth scrape gently over her sensitive bud.

“Fuck!” She gasps and her legs shake slightly, her grip on your hair turns mildly painful as she grinds her cunt against your face. You pull your fingers out and immediately replace them with your tongue, lapping up her release greedily.

”oh god fuck baby you're so good fuck so good.” She pants as she comes down from her high. You don't stop until she tugs your face away gently.

”Enough baby.” She says softly and pulls you to stand up. You suck your fingers into your mouth not wanting to waste any of her. You look at Diana in a daze, intoxicated by her. You pant slightly as you crawl up her, she closes her legs and maneuvers you to sit in her lap.

“You did so good, baby girl.” Diana says, her hand rubbing your back.

”You taste so good mommy.” You whine and she stiffens slightly her hand stilling.

”I.. fuck I’m sorry I-“

”Say it again.”

“Y..you taste good?”

“Don’t be dense.”

“You taste so good… mommy” You blush and she shivers

“Fuck I didn’t know I’d like that.” Diana says softly and moves her hand to cup your cheek, her thumb brushing absently.

“I know you want me in charge baby but I have to follow your lead, I don’t want to take it too far, tell me what you want.” She sucks in a breath.

“Tell mommy what you want her to do to you.” You let out a small moan at her words and squirm in her lap, desperate for friction.

“I want you to do whatever you want, I want you to use me. I..I’ll tell you to stop if it’s too much, I’m not made of glass.”

“My fierce rookie, my little slut.” She grips your cheeks, her fingers digging into the skin and forcing your mouth open.

“Stick your tongue out baby. Open wide for mommy.” You obey and stick your tongue out immediately, tilting your head back slightly.

“You’re so obedient for me baby, such a good little slut.” She lets a string of spit fall from her mouth onto your waiting tongue.

“Swallow.” Diana uses her hand to force your jaw shut and you swallow, a shiver running through you at how dirty this is.

“Fuck you’re so good baby.” She coos and strokes her thumb across your bottom lip softly

[alicerosejensen]

Together Forever Pt.1

Warning: Kidnapping, age difference, Leon!ID, affectionate nicknames, surveillance, forced cohabitation.

Synopsis: Working in D.S.O as an ordinary archivist did not promise to be too difficult. At least you didn't have to risk your life or supply the agents with information, you just took care of the valuable data received by the agents, putting everything in order. Everything would be fine… until someone decided that you needed protection from this fucking world full of zombies and other biological weapons.

Note: something like trial of the pen. I think there will be two or three parts, but this is the first time I'm writing something with a sequel (not counting those three texts about a Reader from college). I'm not sure it's going to be good, but I'll try. And yes, I don't approve of this shit in real life. Everything that is written here is strictly FICTION and you do not need to take it literally. If you have any triggers or dislike then skip it.

Part 2

Part 3

It was outrageously easy. Not that Leon thought that your forced "move" to him would be too difficult, but it was even easier than he imagined. His little archivist was still sleeping soundly in the backseat of his car under a strong dose of the drug so that you wouldn't resist when he drove you to his country house. It's okay, Leon just understands that you will need time to get used to your new good life, but he understood that it would be stressful. Therefore, your forced immersion in a sound sleep is just a precautionary measure so that you do not harm yourself by your own stupidity while he was putting you in an SUV. After all, you could have hit your head, cut yourself, or he could have accidentally bruised you when he stuffed you in, but he foresaw all this in advance and now his sweet girl is just sleeping while they go to the new house that Leon has already prepared.

But there will be no special consequences. Leon looks in the rearview mirror, which was specially lowered a little down so that he could observe your condition in case of anything, although there was no excitement. He just drove the car along an empty road, only occasionally there were cars driving straight back to the city. Outside there was only the forest and silence, but another hour of travel and he will settle you in a cozy warm house. A shared bedroom with warm blankets and soft pillows is already ready there. In the trunk he has three large boxes of boxes of your books that he collected in advance in the afternoon when you just left the apartment and some clothes for the first time, but Leon thought it needed to be washed, so it's okay that you sleep in his clothes…then he will buy you a lot of new things. In general, he will buy his baby whatever she wants…the thought made his lips lift in a slight smile.

He accurately calculated the dose of sleeping pills based on your weight, so the drug acted quickly but relatively safely. At least the feeling of nausea, dizziness and disorientation will haunt you for a while until the drug is removed from your body, but that's okay! Leon intended to look after you and take care of you until you finally come to your senses.

When the well-guarded and well-maintained with all the needs for housing finally appeared a few meters away, Leon turned off the engine as soon as he parked the car in the garage where, in addition to various tools with which he repaired his bike, there was also a collection of pistols. He opened the back door and carefully, like a porcelain vase, carefully carried it into the bedroom in his arms. Your head was leaning against his chest and while Leon was carrying you up the stairs, he could not resist the desire to kiss you at least on the forehead. Although it was uncomfortable, his lips touched only the top of your head, forcing you to squirm in his arms, causing an even bigger grin.

Leon opened the bedroom door, got to the bed in just a couple of steps, put you on the soft pillows and reached out to the bedside table, flicking his index finger on the small switch, turning on the lamp. A dim yellow light illuminated a small space, falling mostly on your placid sleeping face. Just like a real sleeping beauty… Leon stroked your cheek with his palm for some time, just admiring you and scrolling in his head how cruel this world is to such an innocent beauty. He saved Ashley, but for some reason she couldn't hook him like you, and Ada… well, it's interesting to solve this riddle woman for a while, but in the end the brain gets tired of the unsolvable task. He is a government agent and people with his profession value the usual stability more than anything else, for which they are ready to give all the money they earn. And you are his little archivist, who spent hours sitting in a dusty archive, sorting through folders with old reports and other documents. Even if you read something from this, you still don’t understand how dangerous it is outside, but he will protect you and you will love him. Necessarily.

However, now it was important for Leon to take care of his baby…

He wanted you to feel as little discomfort as possible after waking up, so getting up from the bed he found some old but clean things in the closet and going back to the bed began to change his little angel. Leon carefully unlaced and pulled your boots off your feet, placing them neatly next to you to put away later. Your jacket, skirt and even blouse followed by a bra. He could not help but hold an enthusiastic glance on your beautiful breasts, his palm gently slid over them, seeing how your nipples harden from the cold air soaring around the room and from this magnificent spectacle it became tight in his pants.

Your flawless appearance alone drove him crazy, causing an unbearable desire to undress himself and just lie down next to you, hugging, feeling your hands on his back. But he drove away the voluptuous obsession by taking his shirt in his hands, gently lifting your body to put your hands into the sleeves and fasten the top buttons, as if you were a doll that needed to be changed…who knows, maybe it will even become his favorite activity? In the end, somehow you got into the blood like smoke, penetrating deeper and deeper that it became impossible to get you out of his head.

Like a parasite, Las Plagas captured all thoughts without giving a single chance to escape, and if at first these feelings were frightening, then after watching you became an integral part of his life for six months. Leon convinced himself that he was taking care of you as he is now, laying you under a warm blanket with pillows so that you lay a little on your side if you suddenly start vomiting because of the drug and it's impossible not to touch your cheek with your lips at least once.

But you didn't wake up. And Leon still gave another kiss on the forehead, clasping your face with his hands, inhaling the fragrance of the desired body. His little songbird.

"You'll feel so good here with me. I promise."

He whispered and it was as if she heard something through a deep sleep, making him smile from the way your eyelids tremble in your sleep while he strokes you on the shoulder.

But while Leon left you to rest, going down to the first floor to unpack boxes of things and books that he took from your unsafe apartment. The door to the bedroom remained unlocked and even slightly ajar so that he could hear how you wake up.

💙💙💙💙💙💙💙

Of course, Leon never had a plan to kidnap anyone, but after all the traumatic events, some paranoia and … the horror that Jason was talking about begins.

As soon as the president's plane disappeared into the sky, Patrick talked incessantly about a pretty young archivist girl to whom he constantly turns up during breaks to treat coffee or a sweet bun to relieve boredom, but Leon always listened with half an ear when circumstances did not force him to go down to the archive and meet you there.

"Can I help?" your voice rang out among these endless folders with documents and boxes on dusty shelves from which his nose itched all the time. Leon tried to determine your location, but perfectly developed reflexes did everything for him when he abruptly turned around seeing you behind his back in a cute skirt, white blouse and jacket. From here, the alarm quickly subsided when he realized that there was no danger.

Perhaps he stared at you a little longer than he should, looking at every small detail on your face, forcing you to sigh impatiently and repeat your question. The agents rarely went down themselves, but mostly they just sent the archive a request and a deadline by which to provide the necessary information, often in digital form.

It was the first red flag and the first wave of feelings that came to him when you first met.

"So?…" you wanted to repeat the question for the third time, but he still spoke.

"Yeah…I need a report. Spain 2004. Los Illuminados" Memories rolled over him like an unpleasant wave, but you just nodded your head as you walked past him, carefully picking up a bunch of boxes, maneuvering between them so perfectly.

Leon only needed this report because of another outbreak in Africa. Not to him, but to his colleagues, however, it was faster to go down himself than to send a stupid request that is still unknown when they will see and process.

"I'm sorry for the mess, we have a little rearrangement and cleaning at the same time. What kind of report is needed? I'll look at the database" you stared at him with such cute eyes that he smiled at you, however, after taking a step, he stumbled over one of these damn boxes, after which you immediately flew up to him grabbing his forearm to help him get up. Not that he needed help, but it was nice.

"Are you hurt?" you asked quickly, to which Leon chuckled merrily. "God, I'm sorry, the last archivist made such a terrible mess here and they made me clean everything up alone. Do you need a Band-Aid?"

"No. It's all right, really, but it's nice of you," Leon dusted off his hands and you stared at his palms as if checking whether he really hurt himself. "But it's better to clean up everything here. It will be sad if such a cutie falls just like me"

You smiled at his compliment, not offended like the others. It touched his heart pleasantly.

"So what kind of report exactly is needed? I'll file it in a week."

"The Kennedy Report. The original." Leon said quickly, carefully catching the information on your face, however…nothing. Perhaps you haven't even touched it yet and haven't even heard anything about those events. Patrick said that you are very young and have only recently come here, so it would not be surprising.

"Okay, it will definitely take some time, but everything will be ideally as it should be. Is it urgent?"

"You have all the time in the world"

He doesn't remember how long it took before you finally pulled out a dusty folder from some box with other reports and handed it to him personally. It's funny that even when you found out that he is the same Kennedy, you practically did not react at all.

You dusted it off and sneezed yourself, so Leon could only hope you didn't have asthma or something. But something else was important because since then you have not left his thoughts.

Patrick told him about your favorite coffee and buns... More precisely, Leon himself saw that he constantly brings you to the archive during lunch. This helped him bond with you, so he started bringing you lunch and even helping with those huge heavy boxes. It's almost indecent that you weren't even given an assistant to put everything in order. And then soft unobtrusive touches began. Passing a cup of coffee, he could accidentally touch your fingers; you let him hold you by the waist as you walked down the stairs. It was easy for Leon to help you, and he even liked that you were like a little doll in his strong arms. It seemed like one careless move and he would accidentally break you.

At some point he was suddenly afraid that you might fall and get hurt or accidentally spill coffee on yourself or one of the many boxes would easily fall on you. There were so many dangers lurking at every corner and he could not always be there to save you. However, that didn't mean that he couldn't not take care of you. Unfortunately, you absolutely lacked care for your personal belongings, but Leon hacked your phone only for security reasons. In principle, there was nothing terrible, except for those moments when some narrow-minded friends invite his dear angel to some noisy clubs or meetings late at night. It wasn't good!

And Leon was most angry when you came home late at night, not worrying about what kind of bastards might harm you. God, you literally put your own life at risk, so of course he had to protect his beloved in every way possible, even if it meant locking you at home.

It was easy to find out the address, insurance number and other documents. D.S.O carefully checks all the details of the new employees, but fortunately everything was in order. And it didn't take much effort for Leon to find all the necessary information, although it took a lot of time to prepare for your forced move to him. Leon has fully equipped his country house, protecting all the sharp corners so that you don't hit. It bought a lot of soft pillows and warm blankets just for you, terry towels, favorite cosmetic products for skin care...Yes, breaking into your apartment also turned out to be a trivial matter. The problem was only that Leon was worried that you might be bored, so after looking at a bookshelf full of various books, he decided that it was worth taking them all with him along with the things from the closet. Well, your game console, too.

the preparation took about three weeks, considering that he also had some working moments that he could not ignore in any way. After all, he should be able to provide you with complete material well-being, because Leon intended to take care of his cute doll with all the love he was capable of. The only catch is that, despite the fact that you liked him, you always kept him at arm's length, just like Patrick, promising yourself no novels in the workplace. Especially with agents who can hurt your heart and soul for fun. That's why you refused Leon even a simple dinner, but this refusal only made him feel touched by you, showing how innocent you are, convincing him that, of course, you should be under his protection.

You thought he was nice and circumspect, but you, but how could you know that he hooked up a tracking device to your phone to know where you are always? Leon was a professional agent of the president himself, but he always looked after you in the car while you were walking to your house after work.

And yet you didn't let him get close to you. Therefore, when Leon realized that it would not work out in a good way, he moved to radical measures by preparing a syringe.

One move and grabbing you with one hand, closing your mouth in a dark alley not far from your own house. Frightened, you put up minimal resistance trying to hit the attacker in the groin and run away as far as possible, since the shoes were comfortable enough, but it was still a lost cause in advance

"Stop messing around, it's for your own good, sweetheart"

The frightened brain tried to do at least something to try to escape and escape, but what are the chances against it? It seemed to you that a steel grip completely squeezed you into a vice, cutting off oxygen and slowly plunging you into a thick abyss from which it was impossible to escape despite all the pathetic attempts to bite or hit opponent.

Being scared, you didn't even know who the voice belonged to. But it was because of your ridiculous floundering in an attempt to escape that Leon stuck a syringe in you, after which all the muscles seemed to turn to stone.

"Shh, everything will be fine sweetie." Leon turned you around to face him when consciousness was already leaving. "So go to sleep and be the good girl you always were. And I'll take care of you..."

Someone else's lips gently touched your face, once he easily picked you up in his arms, quickly laying you on the back seat of the car.

Everything is fast perfect fast clean and no witnesses.

💙💙💙💙💙💙💙

While you were resting on the top floor, Leon set up cameras in the house so that you could monitor your actions while he was not at home. Actually, he was thinking about a comfort zone like the one in the last apartment - a small cozy hanging chair, a cute fluffy white rug and a small table lamp with a coffee table where you could put a mug with a hot drink while reading a book or watching TV. He even figured out in his mind exactly where in the house it would be best to arrange while taking the boxes out of the trunk into the living room. The luggage wasn't too big, Leon decided a long time ago that he had more than enough money to buy everything for you himself, but it should take a couple of days before the drug he injected into you finally gets out of your body, so your things will lie in the next room for a while, which a little later, maybe in a year or two will become a nursery.

Leon looked into the bedroom again when he put all the boxes together, but you continued to sleep in the same position in which he left you. Smiling, he had a desire to take a break and drink coffee. In complete silence, only grasshoppers were chirping outside and a strong wind was making noise, as if foreshadowing bad weather, everything was quiet when he sat down on the sofa holding the remote control. It took no more than a couple of hours before something fell with a crash upstairs, forcing Leon to quickly jump to his feet and instantly run down the stairs, opening the bedroom door and seeing you on the floor trying to get back on your feet.

Poor bunny, but Leon will take care of you...

I'm a little burned out for writing, despite the fact that I have a lot of requests that I still want to answer. It's just that my psychological state does not allow me to make beautiful and smart sentences even in my native language, so I don't even know if I will finish this nonsense with yandere Leon. Reviews are welcome at least because they cheer up the author by showing that you care.

Of course I will publish something from time to time, but it will probably be at a long interval.

[colormepurplex2]

Now I'm Yours | Feel It In Your Soul

↳ Alpha!Jungkook x Omega!f.Reader ⤜ A/B/O, Established Relationship/Mates ⤜ Rating: MA 🔞 ⤜ WC: 6,697 ⚠️ Vulgar language, fingering, knotting, creampie, discussion of violent acts, fighting/physical altercation, alpha challenge, knife violence/attack, blood, injury, bond sex, dick licking/oral, slick eating, biting/marking, blood/wound licking, surprise pregnancy

A/N: Read Make You Mine, the first installment of this series, here!

⇽Previous Chapter ◅ Back to story masterlist

When you meet Jungkook’s family in the garage the next morning, the sun isn't even up yet. His parents are waiting next to the large SUV that’s idling by the open door when you enter through the side entrance from the laundry room.

After a hasty shower, you threw on jeans and a t-shirt and are now helping Junghyun load the back of the vehicle with a few boxes from the storage room. The tops of the boxes are labeled with various things, mostly boasting medical supplies or nonperishable foodstuffs.

“Did Jungkook say why he wanted us to bring all of this stuff?"

Junghyun looks up at you from under his brow as he bends over to retrieve the next box, his glasses slipping down the bridge of his nose. “Donations. We’re going to be close to The Sanctuary, and we try to donate once a quarter if we’re able.”

This is the first you’ve heard of the Jeons donating to The Sanctuary. You’re intimately familiar with the place. It’s exactly what it sounds like: a sanctuary for abused or neglected omegas and their children. Mari was one such omega, cast aside by her original pack when she didn’t match with any of the alphas within it. It wasn’t until Roland, having just taken over as pack Alpha of your old pack, started up his own annual donations to The Sanctuary that he met Mari. Your old pack made at least a donation every six months after that, helping as many omegas and children as possible.

It’s not that you wouldn’t think the Jeons are a pack that would help those less fortunate; you’d just not given it much thought, considering you grew up thinking they were run by power-hunger alphaholes. Not that Jungkook isn’t an alphahole, he’s just…maybe not as bad as you once thought—even without the rose-tinged view you have of him now from being your mate.

The duel is taking place on neutral territory, which happens to be an old warehouse that’s been converted into a performance theatre in the entertainment district of the central city. The warehouse was renovated a few decades ago by the council when enough of the surrounding packs hounded them for a space to meet en masse.

It’s about three hour's drive, the view filled with the sun peeking over the mountains and trees with their leaves changing in preparation for winter. You sit in the passenger seat, head resting against the window while you try not to stress too much over the events of the next twenty-four hours.

“Come on, dear,” the soft voice of Jungkook’s mother drags you from your rumination. She’s leaning through the gap between the front seats, her hand lightly squeezing your shoulder. “We’re here.”

You hadn’t even realized the vehicle had stopped and that Junghyun and Jungkook’s father had gotten out already. 

“Sorry,” you mutter, popping open the door and sliding out.

She meets you along the side of the SUV, a concerned look pinching her brow. “Are you feeling okay?”

Now that she mentions it, you are feeling a bit off-kilter. Though, it’s probably just the nerves. “Just worried, that’s all,” you explain, pressing a hand against your stomach.

“Did you skip breakfast?” she asks, hooking her arm around your other one and slowly leading you to where Junghyun and his father stand near the elevator of the parking garage.

Breakfast was the last thing on your mind this morning. “Yeah. I’ll be okay, though.”

“Nonsense,” she tuts, producing a whole-grain protein bar from the bag slung over her other shoulder. “You’ll feel better with something in your stomach. Now, let’s go find my son. Being near your alpha will do you a dose of good, as well.”

You nibble on the protein bar, looking to simply placate her, but find yourself suddenly ravenous and consume the whole thing in three bites. It sits like lead in your belly, and you immediately regret wolfing it down so quickly.

“This foolish display will start at precisely noon, not long now,” Jungkook’s father states, the clip of his cane hitting the linoleum flooring of the elevator echoing the disapproval that’s evident in his voice.

Junghyun presses the button that’s labeled ‘theatre hall’ on the control panel and the cabled car begins a swift ascent up to the fifth floor. You caught sight of Jungkook's motorcycle in the parking garage, sitting next to Jimin’s red sports car. A few other familiar vehicles lined the rows, but there were dozens more you didn’t recognize.

Your phone buzzes in your pocket, and you feel a familiar humming warmth bloom in the center of your chest. It’s the same feeling you’ve learned to associate with being nearer to Jungkook. Peeking at your phone, you see it’s a message from the alpha, letting you know he’s waiting for you just on the other side of the elevator doors.

“There you are,” Jungkook exhales, not even waiting for you to get off the elevator before he’s gathering you into his arms. His scent engulfs you, immediately putting you at ease. Jungkook is all alpha, and as much as you hate to admit it, he’s exactly what you need; your stomach and nerves are instantly soothed.

Jungkook’s father clears his throat, drawing Jungkook’s attention. “What news do you have?”

Jungkook sighs, releasing most of his hold on you, but keeps an arm over your shoulders and ushers you out of the elevator and into the hall. “Most all the other families have arrived. Jimin is with Daehyun now. I haven’t managed to lay my eyes on either Raiden or Demetrius. According to the council, they’re supposed to be in the eastern dressing rooms. I have seen Kiel skulking around the halls, though, creepy bastard.”

“Have you seen Hyunsoo?” Jungkook nods in answer to his father’s question. “I’d like to have a word with him.”

“Last I saw him, he was inside speaking with the council.”

“Perfect, I could do with a word for them, too,” Jungkook’s father grumbles before starting toward the entrance to the performance hall proper. Junghyun follows closely behind, after dipping his chin at Jungkook. You’ve never seen Jungkook get bent out of shape over designation deference, as some alphas do. He doesn’t force those below him to bow and scrape; he just asks for as much respect as he affords them in exchange. It’s just another tick you’ve had to add to your ‘Jungkook isn’t as bad as I once thought’ list.

“Are you feeling okay?” Jungkook asks softly, his eyes flicking between yours.

You do feel much better now that you’re with him, which would normally grate on you, but you can’t seem to muster up the typical ire for some reason. “I’ll be fine,” you assure him. “Just nerves.” That seems to satisfy him.

“Come on, let’s go before Dad causes too much of a scene.”

“Umm, I’ll be right there. I’m just going to go to the restroom real quick.”

He continues to stare at you for a moment longer before slowly nodding. “Okay. Mom, we’ll be right back—”

“No, no. It’s okay, you don’t have to come with—”

“Jungkook,” his mom interrupts you both, giving her son an amused smile. “She might be your omega, but I promise she doesn’t need you to hold her hand while she uses the restroom. I’ll wait here for her. You go on ahead with your father and Junghyun.”

Pink creeps up Jungkook’s neck and kisses his ears. “Right. Okay. I’ll see you inside,” he mumbles, pressing a quick kiss to your temple before reluctantly taking his arm from across your shoulders and heading toward the door his father and brother disappeared through.

“Thank you,” you say to his mom. “I’ll be right back.”

You’ve only been here a handful of times over the years for various events, but you’re able to follow the signs well enough to the restrooms located on this side of the venue. However, when you get there, the door is locked, and there is a janitorial wet-floor sign posted right outside.

It’s just your luck, right as you’re starting to feel a light wave of nausea wash over you. Taking a few deep breaths to try and calm your inner omega, who isn’t helping the situation at all, you turn to retreat back to where Jungkook’s mom is waiting for you a few halls over. Maybe she’ll have something that can calm your warring stomach and nerves.

“I can break the lock if you need to get in there,” a voice calls out from further down the hall just as you take a step to go back. “You look like you need it.”

You swivel toward the voice but can only make out the silhouette of someone standing in a darkened doorway a few doors down. They pull out a phone, and the blue light illuminates the ceiling for a moment before it’s plunged back into darkness. “I’m fine, thanks.”

“You don’t look fine to me.” The words come with a chuckle that slithers over your senses and sets you on high alert. You’ve heard that voice before. “If fact, you look like a helpless little omega that’s about to sick up all over the floor.”

That’s a thought. You might just do that, considering who steps out from that doorway, the face fitting with the name screaming inside your head. Kiel Barton. He’s every inch the viperous bastard he’s known to be. Despite being not much taller than you, he’s thicker through each arm and leg than both of yours combined. His bald head glints in the overhead light, and the jagged scar on his right cheek is bright white against his red-flushed face. He swaggers into the hallway, just a few feet away, twirling a switchblade through his thick fingers.

“I’m not helpless,” you seethe through your teeth. You don’t necessarily mean for the words to come out so aggressively, but they do. Years of not taking shit from anyone don’t seem to have worn off too much from your time of being mated with Jungkook. And if it’s one thing you’ve always hated, it’s how everyone thinks omegas are weak and soft—helpless without an alpha.

Kiel grins, and it reminds you of something you might see in a horror film right before the psycho killer attacks. “Oh, sweet, sweet omega,” he crows before sucking in a deep lungful of air, “I don’t think you realize just how helpless you are right now.”

You’re about to turn on your heel and run when he leaps. It’s like a strike of lightning; he moves so fast—faster than your reflexes can keep up with. Pain thunders through you as his burly form knocks into you and sends you hurtling a few feet down the hall to land in a heap on the floor.

He’s back on you in an instant, cold steel pressed against your neck. “Get off me!” you scream, trying your best to buck him off despite the disorienting feeling still reeling inside your head.

“I promised my brother as long as he did his part, I would do mine,” Kiel sing-songs in a demented tone, his words trailing off into another one of those spine-chilling chuckles. 

“Fuck you!” You struggle under his weight, your knees and elbows trying to get any purchase along his thick-muscled body that they can. You manage to catch him along the neck with your hand, nails scoring bloody lines through the devil tattoo he has there.

An ear-splitting roar, the sound of loud banging, and running feet sound from somewhere down the hall, making Kiel’s laughter trail off. “Looks like my time to play is—” A small, sneakered foot meets the side of his ribs, turning his words into a grunt. The hit barely rocks him, but you can’t be sure of who it is, though, around his bulk.

“Get off of her, you snake!” snarls a familiar feminine voice, only it’s dripping with far more acid than you’ve ever heard before.

“FUCK! I don’t have time for this!” Kiel thunders, rearing back and bringing a fist around right into your temple, sending you careening into hazy darkness.

There is so much noise and movement that when you first come to, you think you’re dreaming. But then the very real pain lights up along your side, and you’re reminded that this is very much not a dream. You’re laying on the floor in the hallway outside the bathroom, side smarting hard from the impact of hitting the floor and the memory of a meaty fist stark in your mind.

You go to sit up, only to have your hand slip through a puddle of warm, sticky liquid. The scent hits you a second later, thick and metallic. “Oh gods,” you whimper softly. Your hand is bright red when you bring it up in front of your face.

“Please,” comes an even more pitiful whimper from beside you. Adrenaline kicks in, and you flip onto your hands and knees, letting your eyes swing over the scene around you.

A dozen bodies are packed in the hall, fists flying and mouths opened in concussive bellows. It’s pandemonium. Everyone is fighting, familiar faces and those of strangers alike. All the sounds combined make you want to crawl into a corner and cover your ears, but the form lying beside you keeps you right where you are.

Jungkook’s mom lies on the floor. Her body turned at an odd angle, with her hips going one way and her torso the other as if she was flung around like a ragdoll. You realize the whimpering is coming from her. She lifts a trembling hand toward you, and you grab onto it, crawling closer to kneel beside her.

The blood covering your hand, now seeping through the knees of your jeans, is coming from her. A familiar-looking switchblade is protruding from the upper right area of her chest, between her clavicle and shoulder, and there is a cut over her left eyebrow that blood is steadily oozing from.

“No, no, no!” You quickly rip off a strip from the bottom of your t-shirt and press it around the blade, trying to staunch the wound. The cut above her brow doesn’t look deep; all the blood is a bit alarming, but you know headwounds are the worst in being deceptive; they bleed so much. You’re also scared to take your hands away from her chest. “What did you do?”

Her eyes flicker open, rolling wide until they land on you. “Had to”—she pauses, whimpering in pain as someone stumbles backward and knocks into her splayed legs—”pr-protect the baby.”

“Protect the–protect the wh—”

“NO!” The alpha roar echoes through the hall, as loud as a thunderclap.

In the same instant that your hands are moved aside and replaced by the older, more gnarled ones of her mate, arms come around you from behind and you’re lifted up off the floor. Fear grips your throat, and you flail, aiming your elbow backward at whoever grabbed you.

“Stop, calm down!” Jungkook’s voice snaps you out of your fight instinct, and you sag in his arms. The fighting around you has turned into pockets of isolated struggle.

You blink a few times, clearing the panicked haze from your eyes, finally able to piece everything together. There are a few busted lips and some already swelling eyes, but there are at least a handful of familiar faces around you. Each one is executing some form of hold over individuals with less familiar faces; headlocks, arm bars, and others that look just as effective, if maybe more painful.

Then there is the scene at your feet, right out of a horror movie. Jungkook’s dad and brother are kneeling beside his mom, the knife still sticking out of her chest. It looks like the blood has stopped pooling around the blade, but you can’t seem to remember if that’s a good or a bad sign.

“Jungkook! Your mom, we need a medic!” you urge, struggling in his arms again.

A sinister, wet, cackling laugh cuts through the hushed din of the hallway before it turns into a hacking cough. You can hear the distinct sound of flesh hitting flesh and pained grunts.

”Shut up, you sick bastard!” The ragged cry comes from further down the hallway, where you see Seokjin with his arms wrapped around Kiel’s upper torso and Yoongi throwing fists into his stomach. “How dare you!?”

“Yoongi.” Jungkook doesn’t have to raise his voice at all. The other alpha stops, fist poised mid-punch, his shoulders heaving. “That’s enough.” The coldness in Jungkook’s tone has the hairs on the back of your neck prickling. You’ve never heard him sound so utterly emotionless. “For now.”

Pounding footsteps sound from the other end of the hall, and a few betas come skidding into view, medical bags in hand. “Out of the way!” one of the betas shouts, shouldering his way down the hall before dropping down beside Junghyun and beginning to work. “I need to get her stabilized before we can move her.”

Everything is still a bit cloudy for you; all you have are flits and flashes of memory, but it’s not hard to piece it together. Kiel came after you outside the bathroom, and then Jungkook’s mom tried to interfere. “Is she, is she going to be okay?” you ask, voice soft, your lips trembling around the question.

Jungkook hooks an arm under the backs of your legs and hoists you up against his chest, and you get your first good look at his face. There is a dribble of blood coming from the corner of his mouth and mild swelling coming up around his left eye.

He’s about to open his mouth to say something when a group of grey-haired alphas cut around the corner at the end of the hall, and the one in the front gasps dramatically, “Good gods! What has happened?” You groan at the loud sound, burying your face into Jungkook’s chest.

“This is what happens when you entertain absurd demands from a known trouble-making pack,” Jungkook’s father states with barely veiled malice.

“This is your mess,” Jungkook says, directing attention to the elders shuffling their feet at the end of the hall. His words are acerbic despite him speaking at a normal volume. It’s an alpha statement, carrying the cutting edge of an unspoken command. The entire hallway stills, the air thick with tension.

“Our mess?”

“If you had listened to me from the start about how utterly ridiculous this whole duel bullshit was, this”—he nods down at his mother, who is still being worked on by the betas—”wouldn’t have happened. I’ll have all of you off the council before the week is over, mark my words,” he seethes. “And, if she doesn’t recover fully, I’ll have more than just your titles. Yoongi, Seokjin, you know what to do.” With that, Jungkook turns and stalks down the hall, carrying you with him.

🌙🌙🌙

Jungkook

There is so much rage simmering beneath Jungkook’s skin that he thinks he might explode if he doesn’t let it out somehow. However, the only outlet he wants right now is you—to get lost in your body and your soul—but you’re in no state to take the brunt of his emotions.

“Jungkook.” Your soft voice draws his gaze down to your face. Seeing the swelling around your eye makes him want to turn around and finish what Yoongi was starting. Jungkook isn’t violent, but he could level the entire city right now if he weren’t so focused on getting you checked out. You bring a hand up and lightly trace the break in his lip. “What happened?”

“Raiden and Demetrius. I think this was their plan all along. One minute, Father and I were talking to the council while we waited, and the next, Raiden and Demetrius, along with a half dozen of their pack, came bursting into the theatre and attacked us.” Jungkook sighs, shaking his head. “I felt you, I felt the…” the trails off, not wanting to voice those feelings aloud. The pure terror he felt through his mate connection to you. The tie between the two of you has never really been an open street, he’s never been able to feel your emotions so viscerally before. It was almost enough to take him to his knees. If he didn’t need to fight off a pack of rabid alphas, it nearly might have. “I’m sorry,” Jungkook rasps.

“You don’t have anything to apologize for. We knew they were up to no good. I should have been more vigilant or, at least, taken you up on your offer to escort me to the restroom.” You try to laugh, but it turns into a groan as your head pounds.

“Let’s get you to the hospital so they can check you over.”

No amount of protests from you will deter Jungkook from getting you to a doctor. Junghyun texts him shortly after he places you in the backseat of the SUV, letting Jungkook know that everyone else is on their way to the hospital and an ambulance is en route to get their mother but that the betas are hopeful.

Several hours later, you’ve been released from the hospital with confirmation of no lasting damage, just a recommendation to get some rest. Jungkook’s lip is patched with a butterfly stitch, per your insistence, and it itches as he sits on the edge of the bed in the hotel room he booked before leaving the hospital. Even though you aren’t concussed or anything, Jungkook didn’t want to risk taking you all the way back to pack lands.

Besides, his mother was admitted and is still there for observation, and he doesn’t feel comfortable being too far away while she’s in recovery. She went in for surgery immediately upon arrival and woke up not too long ago. Junghyun and their father are staying at the hospital with her until she’s cleared to go home, which will hopefully not be more than a few days. Apparently, her wounds looked worse than they were, and she was fortunate Kiel didn’t get her an inch further to either side. Otherwise, it might be a very different outcome.

Jimin texted him a bit ago, letting him know the entire Barton pack is being detained at the local precinct, and the authorities are awaiting word from Jungkook about charges. The council sequestered themselves behind closed doors, but the duel was considered null due to the circumstances. Jimin feels bad about being part of the ruse, even if he was just being used as a means to get close to the Jeon pack.

It’s come to light that the Bartons decided to use their feud with the Parks because they knew the Jeons wouldn’t sit idly by. One big, elaborate plan, all to get close to Jungkook’s Luna and try to tear down the hierarchy. If Jungkook lost his Soulmate, he’d lose his foundation of power as well. Or so, that’s what the buzz was when some of the Barton betas were interrogated, according to Jimin.

Jungkook knows everything is going to be okay, that you’re going to be okay; the doctor told him as much. But, despite that assurance, he can’t seem to relax. You’re curled up in the bed, facing him, and you look so peaceful, even with the swelling on the side of your face, but all he can feel is rage when he sees that…rage and so much guilt.

He never should have let you go to the restroom on your own. If he has his way, he’s never going to let you out of his sight again. It’s such an alarming realization, going from one polar sensation to the next. The fact he could give two shits less about you just a few months ago, and now here he is wanting to murder someone for touching you, is hard to wrap his head around.

Yet, here he is, fisting the edge of one of the blankets as he battles this feeling inside himself. The fact his alpha has been mostly silent since Jungkook laid eyes on you in that hallway is just as alarming. It’s almost like his alpha is giving him space. For the first time since coming into his designation, he feels like a giant void separates him from his alpha; he doesn’t like it.

There’s also the pile of papers sitting on the desk, a few feet away, that hold another key bit of information that won’t let him relax. It was standard testing, just something to help rule other things out and see what kinds of tests they could and could not perform to assess your head.

You’re pregnant.

Now that he knows, Jungkook can tell. There is a distinct, underlying change to your scent. It’s sweeter somehow, more alluring in the sense that you now smell partly like him. He should have known before. He knows that if he hadn’t spent so much time away from you, he would have realized it sooner.

You were surprised, but your shock seemed more subdued. When questioned, you told Jungkook what his mother had said to you. Somehow, even his mother knew before he did. Jungkook feels like a failure, like he’s done nothing right by you. It had to have happened the night of your designation celebration. Neither of you had bothered with any preventative measures that night, too lost in the touch and feel of each other to care.

And now, here you are, pregnant without a bite on your neck and a knot on the side of your head. If anything were to have happened to the baby…Jungkook isn’t sure he can even think about that right now. Not without wanting to put his fist through the wall.

He’s spent weeks worried about staying away from you when all along, he was clearly concerned about all the wrong things. The doctor assured him that even the most attentive of alphas take several weeks before they can smell their own child in the womb. But that doesn’t make Jungkook feel any better.

He thinks back on all the curt and what he thought were nagging messages he had gotten from his mother the last few weeks and can see them in a different light now. She wasn’t just trying to chastise him about his duty; she was trying to coax him home so he could be there for his mate in a way he should have from the start.

Jungkook knows what he needs to do now. There is no question about it. Though, it’s not because he feels obligated…no, he truly wants to solidify that bond with you. As soon as you’re ready, he’s going to offer himself to you, finally and fully.

“Jungkook, are you okay?” your sweet voice breaks him out of his thoughts and makes him release his tight hold on the sheets.

Your eyes look so big and bright even in the dim light of the hotel room as you sleepily blink up at him. How he never wanted to give himself over to you so completely before now marks him as a sure fool.

He sighs, exhaling a slow breath. “Yeah. How are you feeling?”

You stretch, wincing only slightly as your arm brushes along the side of your face. “Better, I think.”

“Can we talk?” he asks after a pause of silence.

You give him a guarded look as you slowly sit up and gather some of the blankets in your lap. The doctor told him you might start feeling the need to nest and gather comfort items, so he had specifically requested the Omega suite, which comes with complimentary brand-new fuzzy blankets and extra pillows that guests are allowed to take home when checking out.

“Sure,” you finally say.

Jungkook watches as emotions cross your face, echoing the pulse he can feel emanating from his chest. His alpha perks up, rousing for the first time in hours it feels like.

“Okay.” Now that he’s been given the go-ahead to talk, he’s suddenly feeling very self-conscious and uncertain. “I know you told me I don’t need to apologize, but I’m going to anyway.” Your lips form a thin line when he says that, so he hurries to continue, “Not for”—he gestures vaguely in your direction—”but for everything else. I want to apologize for everything before this. The way I’ve treated you and how I’ve acted. You’ve deserved better than what I’ve offered you these last few weeks—for being an asshole and a fucking dick,” Jungkook uses your own choice of words for him, and that earns him a small smile from you.

“I want to apologize, too, then. And before you can protest”—Jungkook was 100% about to—”just let me finish. Sure, you’ve not been the greatest the last few weeks, but I know I haven’t either. I should have tried harder, fought you on you being gone all the time, stood up for what I wan–er, needed, and been honest with how it was making me feel.”

Jungkook shakes his head, unable to believe how you’ve yet again turned the tables on him. “I, uh, there’s something that…there’s something I want to do,” Jungkook barely manages to get the words out as anxiety spikes at the prospect of you refusing.

“What is it?”

The look of intrigue on your face turns into pure shock as Jungkook prostrates himself on the bed in front of you, deliberately turning his head to expose the side of his neck to you, an act of submission. “I’m giving myself to you, wholly and completely. All those weeks ago, I claimed you and made you mine, and…now I’m yours.”

🌙🌙🌙

You stare at Jungkook, not sure what to say. “I-I don’t need,” you begin, reaching for Jungkook and encouraging him to sit up, “you to do that. You don’t have to bend to me…as long as you promise never to make me bend to you either.”

Jungkook shakes his head. “I can’t promise I’ll be perfect, but I’ll never force you to be something that you’re not ever again. I’m sorry I didn’t realize this sooner, I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you when you asked to come with me to Jimin’s. From now on, I’ll listen to you, and I’ll not dismiss your concerns or voice. I don’t want you to feel like you’re beneath me simply because you’re my mate. I want you as my equal instead.”

The truth behind Jungkook’s words is evident in the fervent way he delivers them but also in the way your omega mews in satisfaction. A bite for a bite, an equal. Even though you wouldn’t be leaving a permanent mark on his neck like he will on yours, it’s still the intention, and it’s completely unheard of in your world. There are stories, myths, really…but nothing wholly substantial.

You shift on the bed, gathering your knees underneath you. Your jeans went into the trash, and all the hospital had was a thin pair of shorts and a t-shirt for you to wear. You fluff out the blankets absently as you mull over his words. “Your equal?”

“Yes,” Jungkook resolutely declares.

“I think I would like that,” you whisper, eyeing Jungkook’s mouth with a quickly burning hunger.

“Are you sure?” Jungkook asks, swallowing hard as you lean in closer to him. “If you need more time to think, that’s okay.”

“Are you sure?” you counter, raising a questioning eyebrow.

Jungkook responds by kissing you hard on the mouth, wrapping his arms around you, and dragging you against his chest. He tastes like home; his tongue is warm and wet against yours, and you’re certain you could drown in the sensation if he let you. But, he comes up for air, breaking the kiss for a moment before pressing open-mouthed kisses along your jaw.

Even with the aches in your face and body, you respond to him. With every teasing nip of his mouth, you feel yourself growing wet. The fragrant cream of your slick blooms in the air, melding with his masculine and spicy scent to create the perfect, heady bouquet.

“I’ve never been more sure about something,” Jungkook whispers the affirmation between kisses until his warm breath ghosts over the scent mark on your neck. “You smell so damn good,” he groans.

You can feel his lips part over the skin there; his tongue laves out and swipes up the side of your neck, sending shivers down your spine. With trembling hands, you help each other discard your clothing, finally coming back together skin to skin. Jungkook pulls you into his lap, his thick cock sitting snugly against your ass. You can feel the bulge of his knot already as if his body is automatically responding to just your closeness.

“You can say stop at any time,” you tell him, earning a surprised grunt when you shove him back against the pillows and deliberately slide your ass slowly over his cock as you move backward.

There is a challenge in his eyes as you meet them. You move until you’re kneeling between his knees, cock sitting prettily before you. “Where, ah,” Jungkook sucks in a stilted breath when you take the head of his cock into your mouth, swirling your tongue around it, “did you want to?” Pink tinges Jungkook’s ears as he looks down at you, mouth full of him. You tap the inside of his thigh and raise your brows in silent question. “O-okay, just…just be gentle.”

That makes you chuckle, the vibration coming up your throat, and you can tell it sends a shock through Jungkook; his head drops back, and his mouth opens with a loud moan. “Gentle says the man about to put a permanent bite on my neck. An act that is none too gentle, I might add,” you say, letting his cock slip out from between your lips.

“Okay, that’s fair,” he relents, his words breathy as you trace along the underside of his dick with your tongue. “Be as aggressive as you want, then.”

Feeling egged on just a little by that declaration, you plant your teeth firmly into the meat of his inner thigh and bite as hard as you dare. Your teeth pinprick his skin, and the metallic tang of blood leeches onto your tongue. Jungkook grunts; his whole body shivers against your mouth.

“Was that okay?” you ask tentatively once you’ve pulled back to admire the twin crescent impressions you left behind. There isn’t that much blood. The two small wounds from your teeth are already clotted.

Jungkook lets out a heavy exhale as his body finally relaxes back against the bed. His cock twitches beside your face, producing a thick string of pre-cum that has your mouth watering for a taste.

“That was,” he pants, “hot as fuck.”

Pride fills you, and your body kindly reminds you with an intense throb in your clit, how much it turns you on when Jungkook talks like that. “Your turn,” you urge, desperate to get his teeth on your skin and his cock in your pussy.

Jungkook growls his approval, letting his alpha strength take over, and maneuvers you easily into a kneeling position in front of him. Using a gentle hand in your hair, he pulls you up until your back is pressed against his chest, giving him unfettered access to the front of your body while being able to tease your clit with the tip of his length.

“Are you ready for me?” he asks, using the hand in your hair to angle your head sideways so he can lick along the side of your neck. “Let’s see.” His other hand slides down the front of your body, tweaking your nipples on the way, until his middle finger grazes over your swollen, aching clit.

“Don’t tease me,” you say between clenched teeth. Your omega adds her indignation to your own, making your words come out laced with additional grit.

“I just want a little taste,” Jungkook whispers as he hooks his finger lower and massages it along your slit, collecting a generous amount of slick as he does so. You watch as his finger comes up and disappears beside your face.

The wet laving sound of Jungkook sucking his finger sends a shudder through you. You reach down with your hands, cupping Jungkook’s cock in one and using the other to part the lips of your pussy so you can fit him against your entrance. “Fuuuck,” you drawl out as the broad head of his cock slides in.

“I love the way your pussy tastes,” Jungkook moans, dropping his hand to your hip and using it to guide your ass back against him, forcing him deeper. “It’s almost as good as how it feels.”

His fingers prod along your hip, sliding until his palm rests over your lower belly. You whimper, rocking your hips the best you can, and place your hand over his. “How do I look?” you ask. “You once told me I’d look so pretty once I was pregnant with your pup. Do you still think that?”

“You are,” he starts, “the single most”—he emphasizes the words with long, rolling strokes of his cock that have his knot kissing your lower lips with every forward motion—”beautiful woman I have ever laid eyes on. Even before I fucked you raw and knocked you up.” The beautiful, endearing words contrast so wildly with the dirty confession he tacks on at the end. Proving once again that Jungkook knows exactly how to wind you up and have you begging for more.

“Prove it,” you goade, intentionally dipping your head to the side to expose your neck further to him.

The moment his teeth touch your skin, you both freeze. It lasts only a second, the time it takes for them to sink into the tender expanse of your scent gland. It’s like a double punch to the gut; you can feel it all the way in your soul. The bond snaps into place the same instant Jungkook fits his knot inside you, and you explode, disintegrating into a million tiny little points of pleasure.

Your body opens for him, both physically and mentally. What was once a small trickle of feeling now becomes a deluge of intensity. You’re vaguely aware of Jungkook groaning as he meets his own release, throbbing heavily within your walls. You can feel him beneath your skin, feel the way your own body is wrapped so tightly around his knot, and the infinite pleasure that’s flooding through both of your systems.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Jungkook mumbles against your neck, his teeth finally pulling free from your skin. “I can feel everything.”

It’s hard to tell where he begins, and you end. There is a sense of middling permanence, the perfect balance between alpha and omega. You once feared that submitting to him completely would change you in some cataclysmic way. And, it has…only, you don’t feel damned. In fact, it’s far more empowering than you ever thought possible.

Jungkook brushes his tongue along the fresh bite, tending to your wound in a tender way that has you slumping over. He follows you down, gently rutting his hips, which forces his knot to rub and grate inside of you, flooding you with another luscious rush of dopamine, like a second orgasm.

“Jungkook?” you ask, trying not to fall asleep as he continues to nuzzle your neck, and his knot keeps you secured so close to his warm body.

“Hmm?” he hums. Jungkook settles you both on your side, holding you against his chest with one hand and stroking and petting with soft, sensual strokes along every inch of your body that he can reach with the other.

“Thank you for taking care of me.”

“I promise never to make you doubt me ever again. You are my soulmate, my Luna…the mother of my child. You are my everything.”

And just as Jungkook said, he made you his, and now he’s yours. Forever.

⇽Previous Chapter ◅ Back to story masterlist

◅ Back to Master List ©️    2024-02-14    ColorMePurplex2  

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

The Princess & The Playboy (Part 1)

Summary: After one of the reader's last concerts of the year, she unexpectedly runs into notorious playboy Dean Winchester, quarterback of the LA Wolves. Only Dean's a big fan and he seems to want more than just a photo if given the chance...

Masterlist

Pairing: NFL Quarterback!Dean x Pop Star!reader

Word Count: 4,400ish

Warnings: language, family trauma/angst, kidnapping

A/N: I promise there'll be more Dean and reader interacting in person next part! Needed to set the scene with this!

_________

You groaned the second you were alone. You’d survived the summer tour but you were exhausted. All you wanted was a greasy hamburger, chicken nuggets, and to sleep for a month. After changing into a pair of joggers and oversized hoodie, you texted your bodyguard Eric, telling him you wanted to get out of there quietly. He knocked twice on your dressing room door before entering with a smile.

“Great show tonight,” he said. You rolled your eyes, Eric grabbing your backpack for you. 

“Like you pay attention to anything besides harassing the security team,” you said, resting your forehead against his strong chest. “I never want to tour again. I’m so tired.”

“You’re just cranky cause you’re hungry and need sleep,” he said rubbing your back. “You only have two more shows this year and then we can sit on the couch eating cookies and binging divorce court.”

“This is why I keep you around, buddy,” you laughed, taking a deep breathe before looking up. “Speaking of food-“

“Let’s get you out of here and full of some chicken nuggies.”

“Back in five,” you said to Eric thirty minutes later, your wallet in hand and panic button in your pocket. He let you go out without it sometimes but not after a show and especially not when you were in the press so much lately. 

It was nearly midnight as you walked into the nearly empty McDonald’s, a guy in a hoodie at the counter with his back to you. 

“Hi,” you said, stepping up to the other register. “Can I get a quarter pounder with cheese, a medium fry and a twenty piece chicken nugget with barbecue sauce? Oh and a bottle of water.”

You paid, the girl behind the counter staring at you like she recognized you but was too nervous to say anything.

“Holy shit,” said a male voice. You glanced left, the man in the hoodie pushing it down to reveal him in a black baseball cap. He was incredibly handsome and had such pretty green eyes. Something seemed vaguely familiar about him but you couldn’t place it. “You’re Y/N Y/L/N…and apparently you eat like a linebacker.”

“Dance on stage for three hours every night and you would too,” you said, the man humming.

“Do you mind if I get a pic?” he asked. 

“Sure,” you said, the man handing his phone to the girl behind the counter who eagerly took a few. He was practically giddy when he got his phone back, a bag of food coming out for him.

“Thanks for indulging me,” he said. You noticed a few strands of confetti on top of his hat and smiled. He must have been at the concert. He almost walked away and out the door when he spun around, parting his lips. “Can I give you my number?”

“Sure,” you said again. It was much safer to just take the number and hand it off to Eric to do a background check on the person than try a rejection. The man scribbled it down on the back of your receipt, your cashier now acting as his wing woman and making sure he had a pen.

“I uh, hope to hear from you soon,” he said, flashing you a wink before leaving. You eased when he was gone, the girl at the counter handing you your bag of food after a moment. 

“He’s so hot, isn’t he?” she said, your eyebrows raising. Not the reaction you were expecting from her.

“Mhm. Thanks for the food. Have a good night,” you said, quickly leaving. You ducked outside, Eric waiting in the backseat for you. 

“Any trouble?” he asked, nodding to the man farther down the parking lot, slipping into a large SUV.

“Just a fan,” you said, handing him the paper with the guys number. He gave you a side eye as he took it from your fingers. “He was harmless.”

“I’ll check it out to be sure,” he grumbled, stealing a fry from your bag. “Did you get me-“

“Yes I got you your nuggets,” you said, Eric relaxing back into his seat. Your driver headed for home and in twenty minutes you were on your couch chowing down. Eric was at the kitchen counter, lazily scrolling through his phone, probably grateful that you were secure in the house for the night.

You watch his eyes go wide, gaze shooting to you.

“I swear I didn’t do anything.” You kept eating your burger, Eric silently watching you. “Dude, you’re freaking me out.”

“That fan from McDonald’s posted the pic of you,” he said. You rolled your eyes and got up, sulking over to him.

“Oh tell me he’s not some whack job.”

“He’s Dean Winchester,” he said, showing his phone to you. You shrugged, walking back to the couch. “Dean Winchester? NFL quarterback? Three time Super Bowl winner?”

You stared at him, Eric groaning. 

“He’s the quarterback for the LA Wolves…he went to Kansas State the same time you did, Y/N. You probably went to his football games.” He rolled his eyes at you. “How do you not realize you’re taking a picture with a sports legend?”

“I must have missed it with all my free time over the past dozen years with all the touring and ten albums and other shit in my life. And frankly you’re the one that told me it doesn’t matter who it is, I need to be careful of everyone, whether they’re famous or not.” He sighed, putting his phone away.

“Alright, I get your point,” he said, returning to eating. “Dude’s kind of a player anyways it seems like. Nice guy but I know you’re more the sensitive guy type.”

“Emotionally available,” you corrected, plopping down on the couch once more. “Why would you think he’s into me anyways? Plenty of people are fans without wanting to get in my pants.”

“Well, it’s Dean Winchester so he definitely wants in your pants,” he joked. “Also the caption, genius.” 

You quirked your eyebrow, Eric tossing his phone over to you. You pouted when you went back to the post, actually reading it this time.

DWinchester67 Y/N Y/L/N Saturday Night Concert at the Wolves stadium. AMAZING TIME with the crew. Worth getting ragged on by the boys all week for taking them to the show just to see them belt their hearts out to #FinishLine (video soon)

Then had the awesome luck to snag a pic with Y/N grabbing a midnight snack. I was dying on the inside at meeting my crush. Sorry for being awkward when you were trying to get your grub on. Next time it’s on me ;)

Your eyes met Eric’s when you finished, his chicken nuggets nearly gone. 

“Yeah, like no reason he’s into you, right?” smirked Eric. You grumbled, returning to your late night dinner. “I’ll background check that number in the morning.”

“He’s a player that wants to have sex. Don’t bother with the background work. He’s harmless.”

“As you wish, princess,” he said with a little bow, earning himself being hit in the face with your balled up burger wrapper. “The abuse I put up with. Tsk tsk.”

“Yeah, yeah. Tell that to your generous benefits package,” you said, Eric chuckling as he double checked the back doors were locked one last time. “Eric…”

“Mhm,” he hummed, ruffling your head gently as he walked past the back of the couch. “See you in the morning, kiddo.”

“Night. Oh!” you said, sitting up on your knees on the couch, Eric throwing his head back. “It’s nothing bad! Just…can you ban everyone from the house until ten? I really want to sleep in and try to catch up.”

“You want me to fend off your team? After Dean Winchester posted that? What do I get out of this?” he teased, crossing his arms. You batted your eyes, jutting out your lip. “You got to do better than that.”

“I’ll buy you box seats to an LA Wolves game of your choice?” He looked blank faced which meant he was really tempted to take the offer. But Eric didn’t like extravagant gifts from you for doing his job. He already said his paycheck was more than enough and he barely accepted the Christmas and birthday presents you’d get for him.

You held up a finger, Eric calculating the move.

“Give me one good reason for not accepting.”

“First off, it’s too much. Second, I’m your primary protection agent and need to be available-”

“Please Eric? They’re going to be vultures in the morning with that whole post and you haven’t had a day off in six months. You’re as exhausted as I am. I’m asking as your friend, not your boss.” He grumbled, shaking his head. “Is that a yes?”

“It means I’ll think about it and I’ll see you in the morning,” he said. “We’re going to watch football all day. I’ll teach you all about it.”

You growled, Eric snickering the whole way out.

Dean POV

The first game of the season was always a good one. The team was healthy. We had home field advantage for once. 

And I really enjoyed the hell out of playing football in a packed stadium. It wasn’t an ego thing like for some people. No, I loved putting on a show and entertaining people for a few hours a week, give them a fun escape before they had to return to the reality of their lives.

That’s what football had always been to me and I knew for most fans, it gave them that same sense of belonging.

And women tended to really like seeing a bunch of muscular men run around in tight pants.

“Winchester, surprised you’re here,” said Michael. I glanced over my shoulder in the locker room, a big smirk on his face. “I thought you’d be in the burn unit with how hard you crashed and burned with Y/N Y/L/N last night.”

I rolled my eyes at the taunts of the room, ignoring them as they riffed on me for a good ten minutes. When Benny walked in though they finally calmed down, Ben taking a seat in his cubby beside me.

“Let me have it,” I sighed. Benny leaned in close, covering his mouth from the rest of the room.

“If you really want that girl to go out with you, you got to do more than make an insta post. She’s classy. She’s not going to fawn over you like every dipshit you’ve dated because you’re good looking. So you better impress her.” He gave me one last look before reaching down to his duffel and pulling out his cleats.

He had a point. Y/N had never cared for cocky flirts. I could remember her in college, always spending time at parties with the shy academic guys that chatted her ear off about music theory and english papers. I swear the only time she gave a single jock attention was when she’d grab a guitar in the late hours of the night and sing a song none of us had heard before. She could stop a group of drunken college students in their tracks with a single note. Nowadays her music was all pop but back then, just her and a guitar…I’d have sworn an angel fell out of the sky straight in front of me.

No woman had made my heart swell up with comfort and longing the way she had the night I laid eyes on her for the first time. 

The years had done little to diminish a teenage boy’s crush. If anything, seeing her last night, getting to talk to her for even a brief moment, made my insides burn hotter than before. Maybe it was only a crush, an infatuation with a beautiful woman with an even more beautiful voice.

I felt Benny’s stare on me as I lazily watched my feet before me.

“You’re still in love with her.” He said it as a statement so I didn’t respond. I’d never claimed such a thing despite Benny insisting on it back in college. But he’d always been good at sensing those kinds of things.

Or at least he wasn’t afraid to say it out loud.

“I talked to her in english lit once, about you.” My head snapped up, eyes wide as he was now down to his boxer briefs, tugging up his pants. “She heard what happened to Sam.”

“Why are you bringing up Sam?” I whispered, giving him a hard glare. Benny smiled, curious since he knew not to bring him up unless I did. “Half the school offered their condolences. Of course she-”

“She didn’t. She offered…hope. Apparently her little brother went missing once too.” I turned my head away. 

“Everyone who knows anything about Y/N Y/L/N heard that story. Congrats. We both have little brothers that were kidnapped and never heard from again. Fucking awesome we can share that trauma,” I spit out. Benny leaned in close, gripping my shoulder.

“She wrote a song for her brother. Finish Line. She showed it to me long before she got famous. Look up who it’s fucking dedicated to and maybe realize there is a deeper reason why you fell in love at first sight with that girl. I have a feeling she’s the only girl in the world that could get you and you knew it long before your head did.”

I was seething, storming out of the locker room and into a trainers room next door, quickly shutting the door behind me. What the fuck was Benny thinking bringing Sam up right before a game? I could handle thinking about a girl but Sam?

I angrily typed Finish Line dedication into google, freezing at the short paragraph that appeared as the top result.

Chart topper Finish Line by Y/N Y/L/N was notoriously written by Y/L/N in her senior year of highschool after the disappearance of her younger brother, Max. Max is presumed to have been abducted while walking home from a friends house. The music video of Finish Line states the song is “For Max & Sam” although Y/L/N has never stated who Sam is. Fans theorize “Sam” is a representation of all abduction victims however…

I immediately tapped on the youtube video of the song, scrolling all the way to the end, bottom lip wobbling as I read the stark white letters against the black background.

She never gave me the time of day back then yet she knew who I was, what it felt like to have a piece of you go missing and you couldn’t do anything about it. She put my baby brother in a song for her baby brother and we weren’t even friends.

I swallowed thickly, forcing myself to calm down. 

“Sammy,” I whispered, closing my eyes. “Is this a sign or something? Is she as fucked up as I am and the world doesn’t know it? Is that why she’s never been seen with a boyfriend her whole career? Did she shy away from connections when I buried myself in meaningless ones? Are we both so screwed up on the biggest stage in the world and that’s why I still feel breathless when I see her? Tell me I’m not crazy, Sammy. Tell me there’s a reason I’m still head over heels for this girl.”

I slowly opened my eyelids, staring at coach who was staring back at me on the other side of the room by the far entrance. I quickly cleared my throat and turned to leave, coach’s whistle stopping me in my tracks.

“I don’t know who the hell you’re talking about son, but my advice as someone who’s been married longer than you’ve been alive…you know when you fall in love. That’s the easy part. Admitting it and trying to get the balls to say it to her face is the harder part.”

“Sir, she doesn’t even know I exist. Or barely knows I do,” I said quietly. “I should-”

“Your little brother, god rest his soul, wants you to be happy, Winchester. So shoot your shot with this girl so you can stop having an existential crisis before my home opener, got it?” I glanced over my shoulder, coach’s face surprisingly soft for how close we were to game time. “She must be special to tame you.”

“She had me the whole time. The rest were me trying to forget.” He nodded, picking up his playbook again.

“Then go get this girl so you have your answer,” he said. “And stay out of my training room before games. Only place they can’t find me.”

“Yes sir.” I ducked back into the locker room, Benny gave me a raised eyebrow, silently asking if I was okay. I nodded and sat down to tie up my shoes, an idea sparking in my mind before I opened instagram. “Ben, take a picture of me.”

“Good god,” groaned Michael from my other side. “Like your insta doesn’t have enough shirtless selfies.”

He snagged my phone out of my hands, sighing as he took a photo of me smirking in my cubby.

“I regret being your friend,” he said, handing it back to me while Benny chuckled. 

“Same, Michael,” I smiled back before I was on insta and typing furiously. I posted before I could stop myself, Benny and Michael sharing a look and immediately going to their own phones. But they weren’t fast enough apparently.

“Winchester are you serious?” shouted Gabe from across the room, the whole team looking at their phones now.

“Yup,” I said, standing and tugging on my under armor v-neck, my shoulder pads and then my jersey. 

“You can’t force a girl to go out with you!” he shouted. 

“I’m not forcing. I’m offering a donation to her charity if she does feel inclined to go out with me,” I said with a shrug. Benny grabbed my shoulders, looking at me like I was crazy.

“Five million dollars? That’s not what I mean when I said impress her you idiot!” he said.

“That’s what the picture was for,” I said with a wink, my phone already buzzing non-stop at the incoming flood of texts and calls. “You think she’ll take me up on my offer?”

“This fucker’s really about to get a fucking date with Y/N Y/L/N through a fucking bribe,” said Michael, shaking his head. “Dude, you’re crushing so hard it’s in psycho territory.”

“One date is all I want,” I said, smiling when coach walked in, rolling his eyes at me. “Come on boys, time to focus on the game!”

Y/N POV

I was currently hiding in my bedroom, reading a book on Sunday evening, Eric doing his best to get my agent and manager and PR head out of the house without force. As expected, they’d reemed my ass out for not capitalizing on the Dean Winchester picture in the moment but I didn’t care. I didn’t care about hanging out with pretty fuck boys for publicity’s sake.

But I had followed him on my private account no one knew about. It’d taken a moment but I remembered who Dean Winchester was in our college days. He was flirty back then I remembered. And a good football player I guess. But I just remembered what happened in the spring semester, how the whole campus knew his pain before he had a chance to even process it.

My heart ached for a boy I’d said nothing more than a passing hello to at parties. 

I still felt that ache whenever I sang Finish Line. I’d never realized Dean went on to his own version of fame all those years ago. But I knew the hurt still existed in his heart. There was no healing it but some part of me wished I could soothe it for a moment. I forgot in the music sometimes. Maybe he could do the same when he played his games.

Maybe I really should have talked to him last night.

My phone buzzed and I saw a new post, this one of him making my jaw drop. “Hot damn you are good looking, Winchester.”

Then I shrieked when I looked at the caption.

DWinchester67 Hey @Y/NY/L/N it was fun running into you last night. How about you take me up on my offer and let me buy dinner for our first date? 

Oh and to sweeten the deal, I’ll donate five million dollars to your charity if you say yes (plus another million for each touchdown I throw tonight, those are freebies for ya). 

You got my number so waiting on you sweetheart. ;)

Eric was in the room before I could raise my head, eyes darting around the room before he determined there was no threat. 

“Jesus, girl. I swear if you saw a bug-”

“Dean Winchester asked me out. Publicly.” Eric narrowed his eyes as he tucked his gun back into the holster. 

“Okay…you made it clear to the team today you don’t want anything to do with a publicity stunt. What’s the problem?” You tossed the phone to the end of the bed, Eric sitting on the bench at the bottom to pick it up. He did a double take, eyes skirting to meet yours. “I’m doing a full background check on this man. He either really wants in your pants, to profit off you or he’s obsessive. To be honest, I don’t like any of those options.”

“Me either but five million dollars to the charity? Plus more? That could help kids, Eric. We could find a safe way to do this, right?” He pursed his lips, nodding once.

“One date at a place of my choosing. My team will be there in the background and I’m going to talk to this boy and let him know all of the ways I can kill him if he tries anything.” You smiled, Eric handing the phone back. 

“You’d kill your favorite football player for me. You’re too sweet Eric,” you chuckled. He stood up, adjusting his sports blazer.

“You know why I stuck with you when my agency assigned me to the Princess?” he asked, a dry laugh leaving his lips. “You always listened to me. You didn’t always agree but you listened and we could have conversations. We could have conversations about safety without you acting like a brat or me like an asshole. You respected me and that earned you loyalty all these years later.”

You stared your hands in your lap. “My parents lost one child. I don’t want them to lose another.”

You were surprised to find him come closer, sitting on the edge of the bed, turning to face you. He tucked your hair behind your ear, smiling softly. 

“Don’t lose hope now, kiddo. I’ve always admired that about you.” You looked away, Eric stroking your cheek with his thumb. “Someday we’ll find the truth. I promise.”

“My mom wishes it were me,” you said, shaking your head. “If I didn’t make my parents so much money I’d think they’d be plenty happy to let some crazy fan take me away forever. All because I was five minutes late to pick up Max and he decided to walk home.”

“Hey!” Eric gripped your shoulders hard, hard enough that you felt the strength of his hands down in your bones. He was always so gentle you with guiding touches here and there you often forgot he was as deadly with his hands as he was a weapon. 

You met his gaze, Eric sighing.

“That is not true and you know it.” His stern expression softened when you shook your head.

“She told me the day we had a funeral for him Max should have been there and I should have been the one missing. So I know, Eric.” He pulled you into a hug, letting you squeeze him tight.

“I know she did,” he whispered, your chin resting on his shoulder. “She has so many regrets from that time and knows what she said broke something with the two of you. But I have had countless conversations with them over the years. I know you trust me so trust me when I say, you are their world and it would destroy them to lose you. She always asks me if you’re happy because she says you put on your fake smile for her. She doesn’t blame you one bit for it.”

“I hate when you have points,” you said, closing your eyes, getting another squeeze from him. 

“Happy to help my buddy. So you don’t give up on Max yet, alright? Everyone else has. If he’s out there, he needs you to keep going for him.”

“No wonder your team adores you. Soft cuddly bear under all the threats of violence aren’t you?”

“It’s how I land so many chicks,” he chuckled. He kissed your temple and stood, cracking his back. “Respond back yes if you want to. Let me look into this Dean Winchester before you agree to anything else though.”

You hummed, clearing your throat when Eric was in the doorframe. “I-I do remember one thing about Dean in college. He had a younger brother Sam that went missing too. Never found him.”

Eric kept his back to you for a beat, nodding once. 

“Do you think Dean is a bad guy?”

“Gut check says no. Probably just wants a hookup,” he said before stepping out and pulling the door shut fast behind him. “Rowan, I swear to god you bother this girl tonight and I’ll shove my glock up your ass.”

“He asked her out! I need to talk to her!” he yelled back on the other side of the door. You sighed and put on your noise canceling headphones before going to instagram and tapping on his post. 

Y/NY/L/N @DWinchester67 One date. As friends Winchester

Not five seconds later you received a winking emoji and “friends” in response. 

“Dear god, you’re going to be a handful, Winchester.”

________

A/N: Read Part 2 here!

[lila-lou]

✨ His only exception - Pt. 15/? ✨

Summary: 12 months ago, Butcher went above and beyond to have you join his team. You had a simple office job at Supe Affairs. The same thing every day, working from 9 to 5 and watching Butcher and his team defeat one renegade after another. One evening, however, something changed.

Pairing: Soldier Boy x Reader

Warnings: Language, Violence

Word Count: 6921

A/N: This is part 15 of “His only exeption”.

English isn’t my first language, so please be lenient. 💙✨

As the car ride dragged on, you couldn't shake the feeling of dread that hung heavy in the air. Your shoulder throbbed painfully, the blood from your wound seeping through your fingers as you tried to staunch the bleeding.

Frustration and fear boiled inside you, fueling your determination to escape at the first opportunity. So when the SUV finally came to a stop, you wasted no time in making your move.

With a surge of adrenaline, you threw yourself at the two men, unleashing a flurry of punches and kicks in a desperate bid for freedom. But despite your best efforts, they were ready for you, deflecting your blows with ease and retaliating with brutal force.

A sharp blow to the side of your head sent stars exploding behind your eyes, and you stumbled backward, dazed and disoriented. Through the haze of pain, you fought to stay conscious, knowing that your only chance lay in escaping this nightmare.

But it was no use. Another blow landed squarely on your jaw, sending you sprawling to the ground in a haze of agony. As darkness closed in around you, you fought to keep your eyes open, clinging to consciousness with all your strength.

But in the end, it was futile. With one final gasp, you succumbed to the darkness, the world fading away into nothingness as the sounds of the men's cruel laughter echoed in your ears.

As unconsciousness enveloped you, you were vaguely aware of being dragged through the underground car park, the rough ground scraping against your skin as the two men hauled you along. You were lifted, your limbs limp and unresponsive, as they heaved you into an elevator.

As the doors closed with a dull thud, the two men exchanged murmured words, their voices low and filled with an unsettling sense of anticipation.

"Feisty little thing, isn't she?", one of them remarked, a twisted smirk playing on his lips.

The other chuckled in agreement. "I do love a challenge", he replied, his tone dripping with malice.

As the elevator came to a stop on one of the top floors, the doors slid open to reveal a woman standing before them, her posture radiating authority. Ashley.

"What took you so long?", Ashley snapped, her tone sharp and impatient. "I specifically instructed you to bring her here unharmed".

The two men shifted uncomfortably under Ashley's piercing gaze. "We… we tried, but she put up a fight", one of them stammered.

Ashley's expression darkened as she surveyed the scene before her, her gaze narrowing on your unconscious form. "Well, it seems you were a little too rough with her", she remarked icily, her displeasure evident.

The men exchanged uneasy glances, realizing the gravity of their mistake. "We'll make sure she's taken care of", one of them promised hastily, his voice tinged with desperation.

Ashley's lips curled into a cold smile, a glint of satisfaction in her eyes. "See that you do", she replied, her tone dripping with menace. "We can't afford any more complications".

With a dismissive wave of her hand, Ashley turned on her heel and strode away, leaving the two men to deal with the consequences of their actions.

As consciousness slowly returned, you found yourself in a state of disorientation, your senses gradually coming back to you. Blinking groggily, you took in your surroundings: a large, imposing office with polished floors and sleek furnishings.

But as you attempted to move, you realized that something was wrong. Panic surged through you as you discovered that your arms and legs were bound tightly to a chair, leaving you completely immobilized.

With a surge of adrenaline, you began to tug and strain against the restraints, desperation driving you to break free. But no matter how hard you struggled, the bonds held fast, refusing to yield to your efforts.

Frustration bubbled up inside you, boiling over into a stream of curses and expletives as you fought against your confinement. Each tug and pull only served to tighten the restraints further, leaving you trapped and helpless.

"Damn it!", you shouted, your voice echoing off the walls of the empty office. "Let me go, you bastards!".

But your cries fell on deaf ears as you continued to struggle against your bonds, the realization sinking in that escape was impossible.

As your tirade of curses echoed through the room, Ashley approached you with a calm, collected demeanor, her expression betraying no hint of concern or empathy.

"Stop moving, you're only hurting yourself", she stated flatly.

You glared at her, your eyes blazing with defiance as you continued to struggle against your restraints. "Screw you, Ashley", you spat. "Let me go, or I swear I'll—".

But Ashley merely chuckled, cutting you off with a dismissive wave of her hand. "Oh, please. Save your threats for someone who cares", she replied, her voice laced with amusement.

Your frustration reached a boiling point as you unleashed a torrent of insults and curses, each word aimed squarely at Ashley. But she remained unfazed, her chuckles only serving to fuel your anger further.

With a resigned sigh, Ashley shook her head, her lips quirking into a condescending smile. "Feisty, aren't you?", she remarked casually, as if your aggression was nothing more than a minor inconvenience.

You seethed with impotent rage, unable to do anything but glare at her from your bound position.

"What the fuck do you want from me?", you demanded.

"It's not what I want, darling. It's what Homelander wants", she replied smoothly.

Your heart sank at her words, a cold dread settling in the pit of your stomach. "Homelander?", you repeated incredulously, unable to believe what you were hearing. "What does he have to do with this?".

Ashley's lips curved into a sardonic smile. "Oh, nothing much. Just a simple request to… persuade you to see things his way", she explained cryptically.

Your mind raced as you tried to make sense of her words, the pieces of the puzzle slowly falling into place. If Homelander was involved, then this situation was far more dangerous than you had initially realized.

But before you could formulate a response, Ashley began to walk away, her voice trailing behind her with a chilling finality. "Welcome to Vought, darling. I hope you enjoy your stay".

As Ashley disappeared from view, leaving you alone in the empty room, your frustration and anger reached a fever pitch. Cursing loudly, you continued to struggle against your restraints, your skin chafing and burning as the ropes dug into your flesh.

With each futile attempt to break free, the ropes bit deeper into your skin, leaving angry red welts in their wake. But despite the pain, you refused to give up, fueled by a stubborn determination to escape this nightmare at any cost.

Desperation clawed at your insides as you tugged and pulled with all your strength, the metallic taste of blood filling your mouth as the ropes cut deeper into your wrists and ankles. But no matter how hard you tried, the bonds held fast, refusing to yield to your efforts.

Exhausted and defeated, you finally slumped back in the chair, your breath coming in ragged gasps as you stared at the ceiling, feeling utterly powerless and alone.

Frenchie's hands trembled as he dialed your number repeatedly, each attempt met with the same soul-crushing silence. With each failed call, his panic grew, a gnawing sense of dread settling in the pit of his stomach.

As the minutes stretched into agonizing hours, Frenchie's mind raced with a thousand fears and possibilities. What had happened to you? Where were you? Was it too late to help?

Frantically, he searched the apartment for any sign of your whereabouts, his heart pounding with a mixture of fear and frustration. But all he found was silence, broken only by the relentless buzzing of his phone as he continued to call your number.

With each unanswered call, Frenchie felt a sense of helplessness wash over him, a crushing weight that threatened to suffocate him. He had to do something, anything, to find you and bring you back safe.

But as the hours ticked by and his efforts yielded no results, Frenchie realized that he was facing an uphill battle with no end in sight.

With a sinking feeling in his chest, Frenchie dialed Butcher's number. After several rings, Butcher finally picked up, his voice gruff and impatient.

"What is it, Frenchie? I'm in the middle of something", Butcher snapped, his tone no-nonsense as usual.

Frenchie swallowed hard, trying to keep his voice steady despite the rising panic within him. "Butcher, it's urgent. I can't reach (Y/N)", he blurted out, the words tumbling from his lips in a rush.

There was a brief pause on the other end of the line before Butcher responded, his tone grudgingly concerned. "What do you mean you can't reach her? What's going on?", he demanded.

Frenchie quickly explained the situation, recounting how he had been unable to contact you for hours and the growing sense of dread that had consumed him.

Butcher's response was terse, his words clipped and to the point. "Keep trying. I'll see what I can find out from this end", he ordered, his voice leaving no room for argument.

Frenchie nodded, even though Butcher couldn't see him. "Thanks, Butcher", he replied gratefully, his relief evident in his voice.

But as he hung up the phone, Frenchie couldn't shake the feeling of unease that lingered in the air. He knew that time was of the essence, and that he would stop at nothing to find you and bring you back home.

With a sense of urgency, Frenchie continued to try reaching you without success, his heart sinking with each unanswered call. Determined not to give up, he turned his attention to scouring through the camera recordings of the city, hoping to catch a glimpse of you.

After what felt like an eternity of searching, just as he was about to give up hope, his eyes caught sight of a familiar figure in one of the recordings. It was you, being escorted by the two men and the ominous black SUV.

A surge of relief flooded through Frenchie as he quickly scrutinized the footage, committing every detail to memory. As he zoomed in on the license plate of the vehicle, his blood ran cold when he saw the unmistakable emblem of Vought.

Heart pounding, Frenchie wasted no time in dialing Butcher’s number once more, his voice urgent as he relayed the newfound information. “Butcher, I’ve found her. She’s with Vought”, he blurted out, his words rushed with adrenaline.

“Vought? What the bloody hell are they up to now?”, he growled, his frustration evident.

“I don´t know, but we need to act fast”, he insisted.

Butcher’s response was immediate and decisive. “I’ll send the team back. Except Soldier Boy”, he instructed.

Relief washed over Frenchie at the news, grateful for the reinforcements that were on their way. “Alright, Butcher. I’ll be ready for them”, he replied, a sense of resolve in his tone.

But Butcher wasn’t finished yet. “But Frenchie, listen to me”, he continued, his voice taking on a stern edge. “Do not, I repeat, do not go in there alone. Wait for the team to arrive. Understood?”.

Frenchie hesitated for a moment, the urgency of the situation weighing heavily on his mind. But he knew that Butcher was right. “Understood”, he replied reluctantly, knowing that it would take a few hours for the rest of the team to reach him.

Butcher's stern warning echoed in Frenchie's mind as he hung up the phone, a mixture of frustration and determination swirling within him. He knew that going in alone would be reckless, but the thought of you in danger ignited a fierce determination within him.

Taking a deep breath, Frenchie forced himself to focus on the task at hand. He needed to prepare for the arrival of the team and ensure that everything was in place for the rescue mission.

As he gathered supplies and double-checked his plans, the minutes stretched into agonizing hours, each second ticking by like an eternity.

As you struggled against your restraints, the door to the office swung open with a resounding creak, and in stepped Homelander, his presence commanding the room. His hands were clasped behind his back, and a smug smirk played on his lips as he sauntered toward you.

"Well, well, well, what do we have here?", Homelander mused, his voice dripping with arrogance as he surveyed you with a mix of amusement and disdain. "Looks like Soldier Boy's little girlfriend got herself into some trouble. Again".

You bristled at his condescending tone, a surge of anger coursing through you despite your helpless situation. "I'm nobody's girlfriend", you retorted defiantly.

Homelander merely chuckled, unfazed by your bravado. "Oh, please. We both know that's not true", he replied dismissively. "But enough small talk. I have some questions for you, and I expect you to answer truthfully".

As he spoke, Homelander circled around you, his gaze piercing as he studied you with unnerving intensity. With each step he took, the sense of dread that had been gnawing at you only intensified, as you realized that you were completely at his mercy.

"Why the hell are you still alive?", Homelander demanded, his voice low and menacing, as he loomed over you.

You met his gaze with defiance, refusing to show any sign of weakness. "Maybe I'm just too stubborn to die", you shot back.

Homelander's eyes narrowed dangerously at your insolence, his patience wearing thin. "Don't play games with me", he growled, his voice tinged with frustration. "How is it that the Compound V didn't kill you, but it also didn't turn you into a supe?".

You remained silent, refusing to give him the satisfaction of an answer. Enraged by your defiance, Homelander's patience snapped. With a swift motion, he raised his hand and delivered a powerful slap across your face.

The force of the blow sent you and the chair crashing to the ground, pain exploding through your skull as your mouth and nose began to bleed. Through the haze of agony, you struggled to maintain consciousness, your vision swimming as you fought to keep your wits about you.

But despite the pain and the fear that threatened to overwhelm you, you refused to back down. Clinging to your defiance like a lifeline, you stared up at Homelander with unyielding resolve, silently daring him to break you.

As you lay sprawled on the ground, blood trickling from your battered face, Homelander towered over you, his expression cold and unyielding.

"Answer me", he demanded, his voice a menacing growl. "How did you survive?".

Gritting your teeth against the pain, you met his gaze. "Wouldn't you like to know?", you spat back, your voice thick with contempt.

Homelander's eyes flashed with fury at your insolence. He grabbed you by the collar of your shirt, hauling you up until you were eye level with him.

"You think you're clever, don't you?", he sneered, his grip tightening on your shirt. "But I'll make you talk, one way or another".

"Good luck with that", you retorted.

With a frustrated growl, Homelander shoved you back to the ground, a cruel smirk twisting his lips. "We'll see about that", he replied ominously, turning to leave the room.

As he disappeared from view, leaving you battered and bruised on the floor, you knew that your ordeal was far from over.

As the hours dragged on, your body bore the cruel marks of Homelander’s relentless interrogation. Bruises blossomed across your skin like dark petals, and blood stained your torn clothing. Every breath came with a sharp pang of pain, and each movement sent waves of agony coursing through your battered frame.

Homelander’s attempts to extract information from you grew increasingly brutal with each passing hour. He wielded violence like a blunt instrument, striking you with merciless force and leaving you gasping for breath, teetering on the brink of unconsciousness.

But despite the physical torment, you remained steadfast in your defiance. With every blow, you gritted your teeth and endured, clinging to the last shreds of your resilience as if it were a lifeline.

Homelander’s frustration simmered beneath the surface, his attempts to break you only fueling his anger. Yet, despite his best efforts, you remained silent, your determination unyielding even in the face of such brutal violence.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of torment, Homelander paused, his cold gaze lingering on your broken form. You lay on the ground, barely conscious, your breaths shallow and ragged.

“Look at you”, he spat, his tone laced with disgust. “Pathetic. Weak. You’re not even worth the dirt beneath my boots”.

Your body screamed in agony, but you were too exhausted to muster a response. Every breath felt like a struggle, and the pain radiating from every inch of your body threatened to overwhelm you.

With a dismissive scoff, Homelander turned away from you, his attention shifting to the doctors who had entered the room behind him. “Get to work”, he ordered them, his voice cold and authoritative. “Run every test possible. I want to know everything about her, no matter how painful”.

The doctors nodded obediently, their expressions unreadable as they approached you.

As the doctors lifted you from the ground and began to carry you out of the room, Ashley appeared at Homelander's side, her brow furrowed in concern. "What happened to her?", she asked, her voice tinged with curiosity.

Homelander's expression remained impassive as he glanced back at you, lying half-conscious in the doctors' arms. "She didn't want to cooperate", he replied simply, his tone tinged with annoyance.

Ashley's eyes narrowed slightly as she studied you, her curiosity piqued by the sight of your battered form. "She looks half dead", she observed.

Homelander shrugged indifferently, his gaze never leaving your prone figure. "She's tougher than she looks", he remarked dismissively. "But we'll see how long that lasts".

With that, the group disappeared through the doorway, leaving the room empty once more, save for the lingering echo of your labored breaths. As you were carried into the depths of the facility, a sense of dread settled over you, knowing that whatever lay ahead would test your resilience like never before.

Ashley's expression darkened with concern as she listened to Homelander's explanation, her eyes flickering with uncertainty. "Is that such a good idea?", she ventured cautiously, her voice tinged with doubt. "If she's Soldier Boy's girlfriend, won't he come for her sooner or later?".

Homelander's eyes flashed with irritation at the suggestion, his grip tightening on Ashley's throat as he pushed her up against the wall with brutal force. "I don't need your input, Ashley", he hissed, his voice low "I know what I'm doing".

Gasping for breath, Ashley struggled against Homelander's iron grip, her fear palpable in the air between them. "I-I'm just saying…", she stammered, her words choked off by Homelander's unyielding hold.

With a cruel smirk, Homelander leaned in close, his eyes boring into Ashley's with icy intensity. "Do you really think Soldier Boy stands a chance against me?", he taunted. "He's nothing compared to what I am".

As Homelander released his grip on Ashley, she slumped to the ground, gasping for air and rubbing her bruised throat. Trembling, she watched as Homelander strode past her, his expression cold and calculated.

Without sparing her a second glance, Homelander followed the two doctors who were carrying you, his footsteps echoing ominously in the empty hallway. As they entered the lab, the doctors carefully placed you down on a large examination table, your body limp.

Homelander approached the table with an air of authority, his eyes narrowing. "Make sure every test is conducted", he ordered the doctors. "I want to know everything about her, no matter the cost".

The doctors nodded obediently, their expressions grave as they prepared to carry out Homelander's instructions. With a sense of dread weighing heavy in the air, they began their examination, knowing that whatever they discovered could have far-reaching consequences for both you and the world beyond. And as they worked, Homelander watched on with a cold detachment, his mind already plotting his next move in this dangerous game of power and control.

"Tie her up", he ordered.

The doctors exchanged a hesitant glance, their eyes flickering with concern as they looked at your battered and broken body. "But sir, she's already in no condition to resist", one of them ventured tentatively, a note of apprehension in his voice.

Homelander's expression darkened with impatience at their hesitation. "Do it", he snapped. "She may be weak and pathetic, but she'll fight tooth and nail if given the chance. I won't take any risks".

With a resigned nod, the doctors reluctantly set to work, securing your limbs with restraints despite their misgivings. As they tightened the bonds around your wrists and ankles, you stirred slightly, a low groan escaping your lips.

Homelander watched with a cold detachment as they finished their task, his eyes lingering on your bound form with a sense of satisfaction. "Good", he declared. "Now let's see what secrets she's hiding".

With a sense of grim determination, the doctors resumed their examination, knowing that they had little choice but to carry out Homelander's orders.

With clinical precision, they extracted every possible fluid from your broken body, subjecting you to a barrage of painful tests and procedures.

Needles pierced your skin, drawing blood and other bodily fluids as the doctors worked tirelessly to uncover the secrets hidden within you. Each extraction sent waves of agony coursing through your weakened form, but you were bound and helpless, unable to do anything but endure the torment.

Homelander watched with a mixture of fascination and anticipation, his eyes alight with a twisted sense of curiosity as he awaited the results of the tests. With each vial filled with your precious fluids, he grew more impatient, eager to uncover whatever secrets lay buried beneath your battered exterior.

As the hours dragged on, the doctors spared no mercy in their relentless pursuit of knowledge, subjecting you to increasingly painful and invasive procedures. They prodded and probed every inch of your broken body, extracting tissue samples and running tests with a cold efficiency that bordered on cruelty.

Though you could feel yourself slipping further into the abyss with each passing moment, you refused to surrender, clinging to the hope that somehow, someway, you would survive this ordeal.

Meanwhile Frenchie stood anxiously outside the airport, his eyes scanning the arrivals hall for any sign of his teammates. Finally, he spotted them making their way towards him, relief flooding through him as Hughie, MM, Kimiko, and Annie approached.

"About time you guys showed up", Frenchie sighted, opening the door of the car for them.

Kimiko gave Frenchie a quick kiss on the cheek before sliding into the passenger seat, her hands moving gracefully as she signed her concern. "Did you find her?", she signed quietly, her eyes filled with worry.

Frenchie nodded grimly, his hands mirroring her serious expression. "Yeah, but it's not good", he signed back, his movements precise and deliberate. "We need to move fast".

As the car sped towards their destination, Annie leaned forward slightly from the backseat, her expression filled with curiosity. "What could Vought possibly want with her?", she asked, her voice tinged with concern.

Frenchie glanced at her through the rearview mirror, his hands still firmly on the wheel. "I'm not sure, but whatever it is, it can't be good",

Hughie nodded in agreement, his brow furrowed with worry. "Vought's always up to something", he remarked, his voice somber.

With each passing mile, the tension in the car grew thicker, the weight of their mission pressing heavily on their minds.

"Did you find Homelander in Europe?", Frenchie asked.

Hughie shook his head. "No, he wasn't anywhere to be found", he replied, his voice tinged with frustration.

Frenchie's shoulders slumped slightly, a sense of disappointment washing over him. "Damn", he muttered quietly.

MM leaned forward from the backseat, his gaze meeting Frenchie's in the rearview mirror. "Soldier Boy and Butcher are on a hot lead, though", he added.

Frenchie nodded, his mind racing with possibilities. "Does Soldier Boy know about (Y/N) being gone?", he asked carefully, his eyes flickering with concern.

Annie frowned, her brow furrowing with confusion. "I don't think so", she replied, her tone uncertain. "Why?".

Frenchie sighed, his expression grave. "We need to be careful", he warned. "If Soldier Boy finds out, it could escalate things".

Annie's brow furrowed with confusion as she glanced between Frenchie, Hughie, and MM. "But why would Soldier Boy escalate things if he found out she's gone?", she questioned, her voice laced with concern.

MM's brow furrowed as he considered Frenchie's explanation. "I get that he doesn't like being left out, but… I don´t think he would care that much on this one", he remarked.

Frenchie sighed inwardly, wishing he could divulge the full extent of the situation to his teammates. However, knowing the delicate nature of the relationship between you and Soldier Boy, he opted for a vague response. "Soldier Boy's got a temper", he replied vaguely, his tone cryptic.

Hughie leaned forward, his brow furrowed in contemplation. "You know, Soldier Boy probably cares more about taking down Homelander than anything else", he suggested, his voice tinged with conviction.

Frenchie couldn't help but snort at the remark, a flicker of amusement dancing in his eyes. However, he quickly composed himself, realizing the seriousness of the situation. "Maybe", he replied, trying to downplay his reaction. "But let's focus on finding (Y/N) first".

Annie glanced between them, a thoughtful expression on her face. "Either way, we need to be prepared for anything", she added.

A few minutes later, the team arrived at the Vought tower, its sleek exterior towering above them like a monolithic fortress. With cautious determination, they made their way towards a hidden entrance that Annie knew from her time with The Seven.

As they slipped inside, the air was thick with tension, each footstep echoing softly in the empty halls. They moved with silent precision, their senses alert for any sign of danger.

Annie led the way, her eyes scanning the shadows for any lurking threats. "This way", she whispered, her voice barely audible as she guided them through the labyrinthine corridors.

Frenchie and Hughie followed closely behind. "Keep an eye out for security cameras", Frenchie murmured.

As the team stepped into the elevator, Annie couldn't shake the feeling of unease that gnawed at her gut. The ease with which they had infiltrated the building seemed too good to be true.

Her brow furrowed in suspicion as she glanced around at her teammates. "This feels too easy", she remarked quietly, her voice tinged with concern.

Frenchie nodded in agreement, his expression mirroring her unease. "Yeah, something doesn't feel right", he replied.

As the elevator doors slid open, revealing Homelander standing before them with a menacing smirk, the team froze in shock. Their surprise quickly turned to alarm, as the realization dawned on them that their adversary was right in front of them, despite being expected to be halfway across the world.

Homelander's cold gaze swept over the team, his lips curling into a malicious grin. "Look who decided to pay us a visit", he taunted.

"You shouldn't be here", Annie retorted defiantly.

But Homelander just chuckled darkly, his gaze lingering on each member of the team with chilling intensity. "And yet, here I am", he replied, his tone filled with ominous promise. "I suggest you surrender now", he growled, his eyes flashing with lethal intent. "Or things are going to get messy".

The team exchanged tense glances, their hearts pounding with. With a surge of adrenaline, they sprang into action, their movements fluid and coordinated as they launched their attack on Homelander. Annie unleashed a barrage of energy blasts, her powers crackling with raw power as she aimed for her target with precision.

But Homelander was a force to be reckoned with, his reflexes lightning-fast as he effortlessly dodged Annie's attacks. With a flick of his wrist, he knocked her off balance and sending her crashing to the ground.

Frenchie and Hughie rushed forward, their fists flying as they attempted to overpower Homelander with sheer brute force. But the Supe was unfazed, his strength and agility unmatched as he effortlessly blocked their every blow, delivering punishing counterattacks with devastating accuracy.

Meanwhile, MM circled around behind Homelander, his mind racing as he searched for a weakness to exploit. But before he could make a move, Homelander whirled around, his eyes narrowing as he locked onto his target. With a menacing grin, he lunged forward.

The team fought valiantly, their determination unwavering even in the face of overwhelming odds. But no matter how hard they fought, they couldn't seem to gain the upper hand against Homelander's relentless onslaught. With each passing moment, the battle grew more chaotic and intense, until a doctor approached the scene, his expression tense with urgency. "Homelander, she's awake", he announced, his voice quivering with apprehension.

Homelander's eyes narrowed at the news, his attention momentarily diverted from the fight. With a growl of frustration, he turned to a group of nearby guards, his voice booming with authority. "Throw them in a cell", he commanded.

The guards wasted no time in carrying out Homelander's orders, their hands gripping the team firmly as they dragged them away from the chaotic scene.

Meanwhile, Homelander followed the doctor towards the source of the disturbance.

As they approached the room where you were being held, Homelander's pace quickened, a predatory gleam in his eyes.

As Butcher and Soldier Boy pressed forward through the desolate streets of Spain, the weight of their mission heavy on their shoulders. “Why the fuck did the other fuckers bugger off?”, he grumbled, his frustration palpable.

Butcher’s expression darkened at the question, his jaw clenching with tension. “They didn’t bugger off, mate”, he replied tersely, his voice low and gruff. “They went to rescue (Y/N)”.

Ben´s steps faltered at the mention of your name, his heart pounding in his chest. “What do you mean, rescue (Y/N)?”, he demanded.

Butcher’s gaze hardened as he met Ben´s eyes, his words heavy with significance. “Vought took her”, he explained bluntly, his tone leaving no room for doubt.

Ben´s world seemed to come crashing down around him at Butcher's words, his mind reeling with rage. "Vought took her?", he repeated, his voice trembling with anger and disbelief.

Butcher nodded solemnly, his eyes never leaving Soldier Boy's as he confirmed the grim truth. "Aye. And the rest of the team went to get her back", he reiterated, his tone steady despite the intensity of the situation.

A surge of fury surged through Soldier Boy's veins, his temper flaring as he struggled to contain the overwhelming flood of emotions. Without a word, he lunged forward, his hands curling into fists as he shoved Butcher to the ground.

Butcher hit the pavement with a grunt, the impact jolting through his body as he struggled to regain his bearings. He met Soldier Boy's furious gaze with surprise.

Soldier Boy loomed over Butcher, his chest heaving with exertion as he fought to control his rage. "You should've fucking well told me", he seethed, his voice raw with emotion.

Butcher pushed himself up onto his elbows, his expression hardening as he met Soldier Boy’s fiery gaze. “And what good would that have done, eh?”, he shot back, his voice tinged with frustration. “We’ve got bigger bloody priorities now”.

Soldier Boy’s fists clenched at his sides, his jaw tightening. “Fuck off”, he spat, his tone laced with contempt as he turned away.

“Where the hell do you think you’re going?”.

Ben didn’t look back as he answered. “I’m fucking going to get her back”.

Butcher quickened his pace to catch up with Soldier Boy. “Listen, mate”, he called out, his voice urgent as he closed the distance between them. “Starlight and the rest of the team, they’ll get her back. We just need to trust them”.

Soldier Boy came to an abrupt halt, his shoulders tense with frustration as he turned to face Butcher. “Trust them?”, he scoffed, his voice dripping with disdain. “They’ll probably just end up fucking it all up”.

Butcher felt a surge of concern as he watched Soldier Boy’s chest start to glow , a silent reminder of the immense power that simmered beneath. “Easy there, mate”, he urged, his voice calm despite the rising tension. “We don’t need any explosions tonight”, he raised both hands.

Soldier Boy gritted his teeth, his frustration bubbling dangerously close to the surface as he struggled to contain his temper.

Ben´s jaw clenched tightly, his eyes flashing with a fierce determination. "I'm flying back, right now".

Butcher hesitated for a moment, weighing the risks of allowing Soldier Boy to act impulsively against the urgency of the situation. Finally, he nodded in reluctant agreement. "Alright", he conceded, his tone tinged with resignation. "Let's get to the airport".

As the team found themselves confined to a dimly lit cell in the depths of the Vought tower, tension hung heavy in the air. Hughie paced back and forth, his frustration evident in every restless step.

"This is bullshit", he muttered under his breath. "We were so close to getting (Y/N) back".

Annie leaned against the cold concrete wall, her arms crossed tightly over her chest as she surveyed their surroundings. "We need to find a way out of here", she stated , her gaze sweeping over the barred door with a steely determination.

MM nodded in agreement, his expression grim as he assessed their options. "Agreed. But we need to be smart about it", he cautioned.

As Homelander loomed over you at the examination table, his presence casting a sinister shadow over the room, you couldn't suppress the shiver of fear that coursed through your battered body. His smirk sent a chill down your spine as he gazed down at you with chilling satisfaction.

With a cruel glint in his eyes, Homelander turned to the doctors standing nearby. "Give her the double dose of pure Compound V", he ordered.

Your heart pounded in your chest as the doctors moved to obey his command, their expressions grim with resignation. As they prepared the syringe, dread washed over you like a tidal wave.

Homelander's gaze never wavered as he turned back to you, his smirk widening into a predatory grin. "This should probably kill you", he taunted, his words echoing with a chilling finality.

As the doctors approached with the syringe filled with Compound V, your muscles tensing in anticipation of the excruciating pain to come. You gritted your teeth, bracing yourself for the inevitable torment.

The doctors injected the double dose of Compound V into your bloodstream, the burning sensation spreading like wildfire through your veins. Agony tore through you, every nerve in your body ablaze with searing pain as the powerful substance coursed through your system.

You cried out in torment, your screams echoing off the sterile walls of the lab as you writhed in agony on the examination table. The world blurred around you, consumed by the white-hot agony that consumed every fiber of your being.

Homelander watched with cold detachment. "Pathetic", he sneered.

As the potent Compound V surged through your veins, the intensity of the pain became unbearable. Your vision blurred, darkness creeping in at the edges as your consciousness slipped away once more

Since you were unconscious, Homelander returned to the team.

His grin widened as he stood in front of the cell. "Well", he taunted. "Do you lot know about your little friend's impressive talents with Compound V?".

The team exchanged wary glances.

Homelander watched the team's expressions. "You see, your friend is pretty much dead", he explained. "But somehow, she still refuses to die".

An eerie silence fell over the room as the weight of Homelander's words settled upon the captive team. Again, they exchanged fearful glances, the gravity of the situation sinking in with each passing moment.

Frenchie´s jaw clenched tightly, his fists balling at his sides as he struggled to contain his rising anger. "What have you done to her?", he demanded.

But Homelander just chuckled. "Oh, nothing that she didn't bring upon herself", he replied casually. "But don't worry, I have big plans for her".

With a cold smirk, Homelander turned and strode away from the cell, leaving the team to grapple with the chilling realization of the danger you were facing.

"We can't just sit here and do nothing", Frenchie declared.

Annie nodded in agreement, her eyes flashing with urgency as she scanned their surroundings for any potential means of escape. "We need to find a way out of here".

Kimiko signed urgently, her movements quick and deliberate as she communicated her assent to the rest of the team. MM nodded solemnly, his expression grave as he prepared himself for the daunting task ahead.

Frenchie let out a heavy sigh, his shoulders slumping with defeat as he glanced around the cell. “But… there’s no way out”, he admitted, his voice tinged with resignation. “These cells are designed to hold in any kind of supe or human, no matter how strong”.

Annie’s brows furrowed with frustration as she considered their predicament. “There has to be something we can do”, she insisted.

Hughie and MM exchanged worried glances, the gravity of their situation sinking in. “We’re screwed”, Hughie muttered.

As you slowly stirred from your slumber, your body aching from the ordeal you had endured, you found yourself greeted by the sight of Homelander looming over you, a cruel smirk playing on his lips

The doctors bustled around you, their movements precise and methodical as they continued to run another battery of tests, their expressions a mix of curiosity and apprehension.

Homelander's patience seemed to wear thin as he observed the proceedings, his frustration simmering beneath the surface. "What's taking so long?", he demanded, his voice sharp with impatience. "I want results, and I want them now".

The lead doctor glanced nervously at Homelander before returning his attention to his work, his hands trembling slightly as he adjusted the instruments. "We're doing everything we can, sir", he assured him, his voice trembling with fear.

But Homelander wasn't satisfied with the response, his temper flaring as he turned his attention back to you. "How is she still alive?", he spat, his voice tinged with disbelief. "She's just a human. That much of Compound V should have killed her by now".

As the hours dragged on, the relentless barrage of tests and procedures continued unabated, each one more invasive and agonizing than the last.

You drifted in and out of consciousness, the pain and exhaustion threatening to overwhelm you with each passing moment. Each time you faded into unconsciousness, you prayed for the sweet release of oblivion, only to be pulled back into the waking nightmare of your reality.

With each cut and incision, you felt your strength waning, your body growing weaker and more fragile with each passing moment. Yet still, you clung to life, your will to survive burning bright even in the face of such relentless torment.

Homelander watched with a mixture of fascination and frustration, his impatience growing with each failed attempt to unlock the secrets hidden within your seemingly ordinary frame. He paced the room restlessly, his eyes never leaving your prone form as he silently urged the doctors to try more drastic measures, unwilling to accept defeat.

With a roar of anger, he lashed out at the nearest piece of equipment, sending it crashing to the ground in a shower of sparks.

The doctors scrambled to appease him, their fear palpable in the air as they desperately tried to placate the enraged supe. But nothing seemed to calm Homelander's fury, his anger consuming him like a raging inferno.

In the midst of the chaos, you remained unconscious, oblivious to the turmoil unfolding around you. Your body lay still and lifeless, the only sign of your struggle the shallow rise and fall of your chest.

With a swift and deadly grace, Soldier Boy materialized behind the doctors, his presence like a shadow in the darkness. Without hesitation, he seized each of them by the heart, ripping the organs from their chests with a sickening crunch before tossing them aside like discarded toys.

As the lifeless bodies crumpled to the ground, Soldier Boy turned to face Homelander, his eyes smoldering with a fierce intensity. “You’ve made a fucking mistake”, he growled.

———————————

A/N: Please let me know what you think.🥰 I can't wait to upload Chapter 16

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Part 16

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Taglist: @deangirl96, @thatgirljayy, @suckitands33, @deans-spinster-witch@mimaria420@kaz11283@uncle-eggy @jackles010378 @vxnilla-hxrddrugs @meowmeowyoongles @sarahgracej @zemosdarling228 @leila22rogers @mostlymarvelgirl @emily-winchester @blacknoirr @onlyangel-444 @seasonofthenerd @staple-your-mouth

[gloomwitchwrites]

Captain John Price x Female Reader Dark Romance

Chapter Specific Warnings: canon-typical swearing, chasing through the woods, strong suggestive themes, dirty talk, showering together

Word Count: 5.2k

A/N: Part Nine of Dangerous Pursuit (for @glitterypirateduck)

Making one last effort to run, you utterly fail, only for Price to drag you back and seek punishment.

Chapter Eight // Chapter Ten

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // dangerous pursuit masterlist

Open land. Distant tree line.

Out here, where the lights of the city are so far they’re invisible, you stew in sticky silence. Nature is loud but it’s also soft, and the thoughts in your head are the only distraction.

It is a maddening sort of tune. A rushing waterfall of information you cannot seem to switch off. It eats away at you, making you question everything again as if you haven’t done this countless times. Like you didn’t think about escaping the entire time you were in the car.

The new safehouse feels just like the one from three years ago. It too is isolated. A decrepit barn in the middle of nowhere with an interior that is at odds with its exterior appearance. But unlike the safehouse from three years ago, there is no underground bunker. There is no room for Price to lock you up in.

You should be grateful, but it only makes you feel vulnerable. There is nowhere in this barn for you to hide. Price is breathing the same air as you, standing in the same large room, and so near that all you need to do is turn in his direction.

On the lefthand side of the barn is paved ground where the black SUV is parked. Price is currently shutting the barn doors while you stand next to the car. It is still warm as you lean against it, taking in your surroundings.

To the right of the paved section, the floor rises slightly, a step up into an open space. This room is sectioned off by partitions and half-walls. Directly in front of you is a small cooking area with a square folding table and two chairs. Next to that is a worn couch and coffee table that is covered in scratches. As you peer closer at it, you notice a hunting knife embedded in the top.

“Not as nice as the other one,” says Price, startling you out of your observation.

“Not as nice as what?” you ask, unsure of what he means.

“As the previous place.” He means the house you were in just a few hours ago.

You glance around at the interior of the barn. “It could be worse.”

When you turn toward Price, he is right there, shoulders nearly brushing as he gazes down at you. His brow is soft and full of concentration. His gaze keeps dropping to your lips to observe your mouth. The memory of him kissing you on the elevator flares hot in your mind. The brand of his touch renewing to invisibly sear your skin.

“You’ll be safe here. Obolensky won’t find you.” Price’s voice dips to a softness that threads through your chest like a long ribbon. It squeezes tight and you find yourself leaning into him even as a small voice in your head tells you to resist.

Half of you says to trust him, and the other half tells you to run. It’s such an odd sensation, this tug-of-war that won’t cease. Every memory you have of John is laced with uncertainty, and even after all this time, part of you remembers how he made you feel. This closeness is only a reminder of how much you still ache for him, and how desperately you desire to flee.

Three years. Three years and still you cannot rid yourself of him.

“Alex might consider my disappearance a blessing,” you murmur.

“Maybe,” shrugs Price.

“You said he likes to take care of things himself. But he sent others to do it.”

“I did,” affirms Price, his mouth turning downwards into a slight frown. “Why are you bringing this up?”

“He sent others. I disappeared. No one has to know he failed except him.” Your gaze falls away from Price’s face. You stare at your feet. “And I don’t ever want to see him again.”

It’s the truth. The man you were growing to love only wants you dead, to string you up for his client like a hanged man. And yet, Alex couldn’t execute the act himself, something he always goes out of his way to do.

Price lightly brushes your chin, pushing your head upward, returning your gaze to his face. “I’ll make sure you don’t.”

The promise is meant to reassure, but you question whether Price means he’ll keep you safe by preventing you from crossing paths with Alex again or that Alex will no longer be alive to seek you out.

Because he might try if he still draws breath. There is no reason to find sympathy in your heart for the man. Not after everything.

Price’s thumb brushes just below the curve of your bottom lip before his grip there draws you close. You know what he’s doing. It’s like the elevator all over again. Your body tingles with the way he guides you to his lips. Price’s head dips, and your head tips to the side, welcoming him.

This distance between you shortens. Shortens some more. Panic swells suddenly and you turn your face at the last second. Price’s lips brush against the corner of your mouth. But he doesn’t draw away in defeat. Price’s hand unfurls, grabbing the bottom of your face. It’s not a harsh hold, but it is dominating, and curls something hot and needy between your legs.

“We can’t,” you reply, already knowing the question forming on Price’s lips. “John. We can’t.”

“Who says?” he asks, some raspiness leaking into his tone, the hunger there thick and palpable.

You were completely wrong. This place is much more isolating. There is all this space—both inside and out—and yet it’s suffocating. The need to bolt—the desire to run—revives within you, creating a miasma of anxiety that won’t leave you alone.

Giving in to John will only make things worse.

“Let me go.”

Price drops his hand immediately, but the separation is only a brief respite. He stands so near that you can pick up the slightly woodsy scent of him. You haven’t seen him smoke a cigar but you can smell that too. It is faint. Distant. Clinging.

Price brushes past you, the contact much too close and yet not close enough. He steps up onto the raised floor, heading for the kitchen area, opening the minifridge and peering inside. It’s empty minus a few items. Price pulls them out one by one, examining each.

“Expired,” he mutters, putting them all back.

“No food?” you ask, following him.

He glances over his shoulder. “There’s food. It’s all in cans or boxes. Dried stuff. Things that will keep. Does that bother you?”

“No,” you reply, shaking your head.

From here, you have a better view of the space beyond. There is a half-wall that separates the kitchen and communal space from the back area. There are beds. One is large, likely a queen, shoved into the corner. Next to it is a wooden table with various equipment on it. One looks like a massive two-way radio. The rest of it you don’t recognize. Beside that are two more beds, bunks that are bolted into the wall. As you step around Price to peer beyond, it reveals an open shower and a sink. The toilet is in its own space but separated by a curtain.

Everything in here is out in the open. There is literally nowhere for you to hide.

Price leaves you alone after that, as if he’s sensing your unease, but he’s also working. The laptop he has out in front of him is sturdy like you could smash it repeatedly against the ground and it would still hold its integrity. When he isn’t on the computer he’s talking on the phone, speaking softly. You can’t hear him, and while that stokes your curiosity, it also doesn’t help your anxiety.

It festers, and while you try to distract yourself with a book, it hardly keeps your interest. You’re stuck here, completely at Price’s protection and mercy. It is a comfort, and yet it isn’t enough. The silence and the book only give your mind time to process and stew and think about all your options.

Which makes the next part easy.

Slipping away this time is easy.

When night comes knocking, Price offers you the large bed, which you happily take. He picks the lower bunk, kicking off his boots and sliding in without another word. Maybe he is too tired—too exhausted—and has sunk into a deep sleep because you crawl out of the bed, dress yourself, and make it to the barn doors without incident.

The locking mechanism is simple but old. There is rust and it’s large. Clearly, Price doesn’t expect anyone to come out this far in search of you, which is a blessing, but makes the whole thing far too easy.

A trap, your brain spits, flaring hot. It’s a test.

You shove the thoughts down until they’re completely in shadow. You’ve already made the decision. You’ll see this through, even if you fail. You have to try.

The barn door creaks when you open it, and you flinch at the noise. You immediately pause, listening in the dark, waiting for Price to emerge like a predator after prey.

Nothing.

No hand appears from the shadows to latch on to you. No voice calls out, commanding you to stop, to turn around and come inside.

There is only silence, and the soft droll of insects.

Price did say he’d chase you anywhere. Do you truly believe him? Would he run after you? If you make it to the road and then back to the city, would Price be right on your heels, hunting you down to bring you back?

As you push the door open a bit wider, you slip through the space you’ve created, wiggling as you make it out into open air. The ground is wet. It rained and you didn’t even realize it. You don’t have a coat, but that hardly matters at the moment. There may be a slight chill in the air, but there is no wind, and a coat might overheat you once you start walking.

Getting back to the main road is the priority.

You can follow it back to the city.

You can—

“What are you doing?”

You whirl around. “John,” you gasp, as if his appearance is a surprise.

“You’re running,” he states, because it’s the truth and you both know it.

You stand there in the dark, watching Price as he crosses his arms over his chest. He lingers just outside the open door wearing nothing but a white shirt, cargo pants, and boots. His dark hair is messy, clearly tussled from sleep.

The worst part about it is that Price doesn’t even appear to be annoyed or angry. His face is entirely neutral, as if he knew you’d try this and was only waiting for it to happen. Of course he would. You tried to run from him yesterday. Even then, you only made it to the door.

Denial is silly. So, you don’t try. You don’t say anything.

“Are you going to make me chase you?” When your reply doesn’t come, Price sighs loudly. “Am I that bad?”

“I want to make my own choices,” you finally snap, because it’s the only thing you want in all of this. Every choice is being decided for you. All you want is a voice.

Price unlaces his arms and extends them outward. “You’re making a choice now.”

“But you’ll just drag me back!” you shout, throwing your hands up to the sky in exasperation.

“Exactly,” shrugs Price. “You’re making a choice to run. And I’m making a choice to track you down when you do.”

He steps forward, and an old, primal instinct in you flares hot, burning in your muscles.

“If you care about me at all, John. You will let me go.”

He shakes his head. “That’s not how this works, love.”

“Then tell me how it works.” You move away from him. Just one step, but Price notices, his gaze dropping to your foot before returning to your face.

“You’ll run anyway.” Price’s response has the hint of a growl on the end. The neutral expression is gone. Price’s gaze is intense. Heated. He wants you to run. He wants to chase you down.

The idea of the chase, of Price stalking you through the woods only to drag you back to the barn is like the first bite of real food after a long sickness. The thoughts that swirl in your head, the images of what he’ll do once he captures you repeats and shifts in your mind. They are drenched in red, but not in the vibrancy of violence. They are dipped with wanton lust, of skin against skin, of mouths moving against each other and across bare flesh. You think of yourself trapped beneath him. Writhing. Moaning. Begging for him.

Yet Price is correct. You will run regardless of what he says. It has been building in your blood like bricks. It was always going to come to this. It is what you do after all. Run and run and run because running is easy. Running has always been easy.

The tension in your limbs snap. Releasing, you turn on your heel, taking off toward the tree line. The air is crisp and cold as it enters your lungs. It stings your bare skin, an icy bite against the heat of your flesh. The ground is wet. Slick. Your shoes slip in the mud, but you manage to stay upright, pumping your legs as best as you can, breaking the tree line and entering the wood.

Price is sprinting after you. You can hear his boots hitting the ground, the rapid inhale and exhalation of his breath. Twigs snap beneath your own shoes and his. Even with your labored breathing that is slowly becoming rapid, you do not lose Price’s pounding footfalls. You hear them clearly.

You do what you know you’re supposed to do. To weave and duck, to not run in a straight line. With the trees, that’s easy, but there are still obstacles for you, and they’re slowing you down. A wrong move might send you tumbling. A wrong move might throw you right into Price’s path.

Chancing a glance over your shoulder, you spy him just a few feet behind. He is gaining, tearing through the path you’ve made like it’s nothing to him. You are no match for a man who chases people down for a living.

Why did you even think you had the possibility of success?

And where would you have gone once you made it out of the trees and to the main road? That is deserted too, especially at this time. You would have slowed down anyway, and Price would be on you in seconds.

The moment you turn your gaze back to the path in front of you, you nearly hurtle into a tree. Stumbling, you go to move around it, but you are too slow, and you’ve lost precious time. Every second counts, and you were too distracted to keep yourself on the path ahead.

Price is on you, wrapping his arms around your waist. Natural weight carries you both down to the ground. The trees block the moonlight, and the little that floods in obscures the ground that is quickly heading toward your face.

But you don’t land like you think you will—with a blow to your skull. Price shifts his body, turning toward the ground, moving you out of the way completely.

It is Price that lands in the mud.

You inhale. He exhales. Back and forth in shuttering silence, chests heaving as the exhaustion from sprinting starts to set in.

Price is on his back and you are draped over him, cheek pressed against his hard chest, hands holding on to him like an anchor. His arms are still wrapped around your waist, pinning you against him. The two of stay like this for a few breaths as if the situation is unfathomable. That the very idea of the two of you splayed out in the mud is part of the plan.

But it is you that finally breaks. It is you that finally moves.

Your hands press against his chest, palms flat. Shoving yourself away, you intend on returning to your feet, to stumble off and make another pass at freedom. But Price is larger. Stronger. His arms tighten, and then he’s rolling over, pressing you down into the sludgy mud.

You are pinned. Trapped beneath him. But not in the way you imagined.

Trying to beat your fists against his chest is useless. Price is a fucking wall. Solid. When you buck your hips to try and throw him off, it only rubs your pelvis against him, and the hardness that replies back ceases all further movement.

“Filthy girl,” he purrs. “Said I’d chase you.” He smirks and you want to slap it right off his face.

“Get off me, John,” you growl. The mud is already seeping into and beneath your clothes, cooling your skin, making the chill worse.

“Where were you running to?” he asks, breathing still slightly labored. “Where?”

“Away from here,” you reply sharply, smacking his chest. It is in vain. Price doesn’t even flinch. If anything, he’s amused, and that only drives your frustration higher.

“Running from me or this place?”

You want to wound him, to tell Price that it’s both. That you’re running from him as much as you’re running from the safehouse. But it’s a lie. You don’t want to run from him. Even though you’re frustrated with him and at the situation, freedom is the one thing you crave. Choices are important, and Price is giving you none. Yet it is not freedom from him. Price is not your master, and you are not a bird in a gilded cage.

He's trying to protect you and keep you safe the only way he knows how.

“Get. Off. Me,” you mutter, the mud now fully covering your backside and rapidly seeping elsewhere.

He inclines his head. “As you wish.”

Price abruptly pulls away, bringing you with him. He effortlessly tosses you over his shoulder. He turns, heading back to the barn. When you try to knock your fists and feet against him, Price’s rebuttal is a sharp slap to your ass.

“What the fuck!” you yelp, momentarily stunned.

“Stop moving. I might drop you.”

“Maybe that’s what I want,” you grumble, only to be rewarded with another slap to your right cheek.

Every step sends his shoulder into your stomach. You cling, hanging, just trying to stay aloft. Breaking the tree line, Price eases you off his shoulder and to your feet. The moment your feet hit the ground, you try to bolt, but Price holds tight. Using your natural weight, you attempt to destabilize him. To send him stumbling.

But Price is strong, and easily retains his grip.

Price drags you along, but you complain the whole time, muttering obscenities under your breath as he pushes you through the open barn door, slamming it behind him.

The two of you stand there, staring at each other in the silence of the barn. Price is splattered with mud which means you cannot be much better. You feel it in your hair and between your skin and shirt. It’s on the both of you. It’s fucking everywhere.

You make one more pitiful attempt to run. Price just rolls his eyes, hauling you into his arms again. He starts walking, stepping up onto the raised flooring, walking right past the kitchen area and beds to plop you onto your feet in front of the open shower.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” you splutter. “You can’t toss me around like that.”

Price briefly glances at you before reaching past your shoulder to turn the dial on the shower. There is a rattling sound of old pipes jumping, and then clear water bursts from the shower head. The system might be ancient, but the water falls from the shower head like rainfall. It looks lovely, like something you’d have in your own home.

“John,” you prompt, leaning into his line of sight, but he isn’t listening. He’s completely ignoring you.

You try again. “John—”

Price grabs your upper arm and drags you under the falling water. It’s still ice cold.

“Fuck!” you shriek like a stabbed banshee.

In moments, you’re soaked through, shivering. Beneath your shoes, brown water pools before slowly creeping toward the drain. Leaning down, Price unties the laces of his boots, kicking them off to the side, away from the shower. They’re covered in mud, leaving brown splotches behind.

Then, Price steps under the spray beside you—joining you. The water finally starts to warm, as if it knew the exact moment Price would enter in.

“Shoes off,” says Price as his hands slide under the white shirt, guiding it up and over his head. That is also tossed aside—just like his boots—and you’re momentarily stunned by Price’s broad, bare chest.

You want to touch him—to run your fingers through the soft hair there that slowly trails below his pants. Just yesterday you saw him without a shirt. That too startled you, but right now you’re blazing. He is nearly on top of you, and all you’d need to do is raise your hand a few inches. That’s it. That’s all.

“Shoes,” he repeats, eyebrows rising slightly.

You bend to comply, the warm water rolling off your body as you take off your shoes and hastily kick them to the side. The mud is gone, but they’ll take forever to dry. When you return to standing, Price’s hands are on you. With one sharp tug, he rips your top open from neckline to hem, exposing your breasts to him, the room, and the water.

Your nipples pebble instantly.

“Jesus Christ, John,” you gasp, covering yourself up.

Price’s gaze isn’t even on your chest. He ripped your top without looking there at all, keeping his attention on your face. From there, Price continues, removing his belt and pants with ease. Then it’s just the two of you standing under the cascading water, steam rising to the rafters.

There is Price in his gray boxer briefs and you in a pair of sweatpants that are just a smidge too big. They are quickly starting to slip over your hips from the sheer weight of the water as it soaks into the fabric.

You reach for the waistband, only to miss, finding empty air and wet skin. It’s already gone. The sweatpants are at your feet. Price’s gaze briefly darts downward before returning to your face, that fierce hunger you saw there earlier returning in full force.

“Eyes up here,” you snap, pointing toward your face with two fingers while still covering your bare chest.

Price’s mouth twitches, the corner twisting into a hint of a knowing smile. There is a brief pause between that smirk and his next movement. Price’s thumbs slide beneath the waistband of his boxer briefs, and then those too are gone, putting the two of you on equal footing.

Bare. Standing close. Wet. Warm.

You don’t dare look down. Even though you want to. Even though your body heats from the mere idea of just how intimate this is. Price’s gaze stays on your face, and that is somehow more intense than if his gaze roamed over your body.

Reaching over your shoulder again, Price grabs a bottle off one of the shelves.  He pops open the lid, turns it over, squeezes clear liquid into his palm.

“Wash,” he says. “Or I’ll do it for you.” He offers you the bottle of body soap.

“Fuck you,” you mutter, staring him in the eye.

Price clicks the lid shut. Puts it right back on the shelf. “You offering?” he purrs, stepping closer into your space. You take a step back, only to bump into the shower wall. “Just turn around, love. Spread those gorgeous legs. I’ll do the rest.”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” you retort, grabbing the soap bottle and opening it up much too aggressively. The plastic lid is no match for your strength. It goes flying across the makeshift bathroom.

Price places his hand next to your head, anchoring himself there, trapping you against the wall. “I would,” he answers. “But so would you. Don’t deny it.”

Squirting some of the liquid into your hand, you return the bottle to the shelf and begin lathering the soap between your palms. Sighing, Price drops his hand from the wall and brings it to his other palm, lathering his soap up as well.

Price does not step back, and you do not push forward. The water falls between your bodies, the two of you staring each other down as both of you run the soap over your arms, chest, and stomach.

You won’t back down.

You won’t break first.

When you scrub your hair, lifting your arms up above your head, exposing your breasts, that is when Price’s gaze drops, focusing in on the way they lightly shake and bounce from your movements. You don’t hide. Instead, you give into the movement, taking extra care to exaggerate their gently sway. His lips part slightly like he wants to put his mouth against them. To taste and know them. The sudden thought brings a heat between your legs, and you find yourself squeezing your thighs together as a way to hide the fact you want him.

“Like what you see?” you tease, feeling bold in that moment.

Price’s gaze darts upward, and darkens. The hunger there is thick like rich butter. You could easily cut it with a knife, spread it around on fresh bread, savor the salty bite.

“Answer me honestly,” he rasps, and your hands immediately drop from your hair, the sudsy shampoo running down your back to greet the drain. “Do you miss him?”

Do you miss him.

Him.

Him.

Meaning, Alex.

“No. I don’t,” you whisper, because it’s true. After everything that transpired, your heart might ache, but you don’t miss him. If anything, you’re fucking angry.

Price licks his lips, and then his hand is coming up to wrap around your throat, creating a necklace of possession. He doesn’t squeeze, just lightly presses you harder into the shower wall, his own body leaning in until the two of you are nearly touching.

“Answer me. Honestly. Did Obolensky ever fuck you like I did?”

Your lips and mouth and tongue begin to form the shapes of words—the shapes of sounds—but you’re too stunned to speak, unable to comprehend why Price is bringing this up now.

Price leans in a bit closer. “Did he kiss you better? Taste you better?”

He is so close. With noses brushing, your head tilts upward, seeking his mouth—seeking him.

Price’s lips make the faintest contact with your own before drawing away again. “Answer me,” and these words are a growl.

“No,” you answer. “Never like you.”

Alex was always kind, always gentle, but never quite did it for you. He always made sure you finished, always made sure that you were satisfied, but you were never completely there. Something was missing, and that something is passion. Alex was comfortable and safe—which are all good things to have in a relationship. But he never wanted to explore anything further, and now you know why. It was all fake. A ruse. A fucking joke. At least, to some extent.

Price is all protective passion. He is safe but in a completely different way.

The sigh that leaves him is audible. It’s an exhalation of relief. Price’s eyelids flutter, then close as he inhales. On the second exhale, he opens his eyes, and you instantly melt, silently swearing that you’ll give this man anything.

“What should your punishment be for making me chase you? Hm?” Price’s hand tightens a bit, not enough to constrict your breathing but enough to show dominance. “Or should I decide for you.”

“John,” you whimper, one hand wrapping around his wrist while the other comes up to land on his broad chest.

Price rests his forehead against your temple, the line of his nose pressing softly against the side of your face, just to the edge of the cheekbone. “Could fuck your hand. Give you just the head. Bend you over so I can watch my cum drip out.”

His lips brush over your skin, and his other hand not holding your throat falls to your waist, squeezing, pulling you flush against him. Price is hard, and that is very clear by the way his need insistently pokes at your stomach.

“What do you think, love?” he asks, continuing. “Keep you spread wide. Do it again. Maybe even a third time.” With his hold on your throat, Price lightly turns you head in his direction. Your lips are just a second from meeting. “Then I’d fuck all of it into you. Make you mine.”

Price’s lips meet yours. Finally. Finally—and yet it’s fleeting. It’s a chaste kiss, and completely at odds with how he’s speaking to you.

“You remember the feel of me inside you, love? Because I remember you. You were bloody perfect around me.” Price closes the distance, and this time the kiss is deeper. Fiercer. “Made for me,” he growls into your mouth.

“John,” you moan, only wanting him to follow through. To fill you, then fuck you ceaselessly.

You know that’s how he’d do it. Draw it out. Make you hunger for him. Then take you in whatever position he desires. You’d take it all. You’d accept all of it. There is nothing that has ever compared to those moments in the safehouse and at Thirst. There is nothing that compares to those moments between, when he was gentle and soft and full of concern for you. Even the overbearing protectiveness is somehow sweet.

Price’s reply is to seal the two of you together, pinning you against the wall of the shower, claiming your mouth in repetitive desire that seeps into your muscles and bones, leaking into the marrow until the two of you are utterly fused.

The water isn’t nearly as hot as it was, but it’s still warm, and it only adds to the heat building between you. Price might have one hand at your throat, but the other explores, running up and down the sides of your body. Seeking. Searching. Touching.

Those thick, calloused fingers of his press between your legs and you readily open for him. Enough for Price to slide the rest of his hand between your thighs. He finds your clit, then your entrance, and there is no hiding just how needful you are.

“Fuck, love. Fuck.” Price adjusts his legs, spreading them slightly to anchor himself on the wet floor. One finger presses and slips inside easily. “I will fuck you,” he groans, emphasizing his words with a light thrust of his finger inside you.

He licks his lips. Exhales. “But there’s a punishment to be dealt.”

The chase. The mud. Time to pay up.

“Give me your hand.”

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[sweettea-and-honeybutter]

Take You There IV

Song that inspired this chapter...it was actually a few honestly

A/N: This was meant to come out yesterday, I just didn't realized how detailed I was gonna make it 🥲 I should know myself better than that by now. I barely proof read this, I pulled an all nighter with it cause ADHD hyper fixation aint no joke, so excuse any typos im too delirious rn to catch them. Also I had Back 2 Luv by Grimm Lyn on repeat for this chapter too 👀

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Reign Adisa (black female OC)

Warning: smut! fucking finally! because you've all been so patient 💕 and I just wanna say that its only up from here 🤭 now that they've finally done it?!?! How will they ever stop??

Word Count: 4,764

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Chapter 4

Reign followed Terry’s SUV through Houston’s winding night traffic, her foot itching to press harder on the gas whenever his tail lights flashed ahead. At every red light, she’d rev her engine playfully, catching his raised eyebrow in the rearview mirror and the hint of a smirk each time he glanced back at her. Her thoughts raced, and she squirmed in her seat, the A/C on high but doing little to cool the warmth of her anticipation.

When they finally pulled into his gated complex, Terry waited by the entrance, gesturing her through the gate and leading her to a spot next to his. He stepped out of his SUV, watching as she grabbed her things, including a sparkly pink “spennanight” bag that caught the light as she slung it over her shoulder.

"I am nothing if not a prepared woman, Terry," she said with a playful shrug, noticing the amused way he looked at her bag.

He took a step closer, his hand finding her waist with a possessive ease, fingers pressing just enough for her to feel the strength in his grip. His voice dropped as he leaned in. “Oh, I’m starting to see that Reign. And I like that… a lot.”

Without another word, he guided her toward the entrance, his hand firm on her waist as they walked. The energy between them was electric, sparking with tension, and Reign felt her breath catch at the intensity radiating from him. He’s just as needy, she can tell, he’s just better at masking it. Terry’s grip was a silent promise, one that sent a thrill through her as they stepped into the dim, private world of his building.

Even the elevator ride was excruciating. His grip on her kept her from swaying to the bland music playing overhead, forcing her to remain still as heat pooled between her thighs. Reign let out a soft whine, feeling her heartbeat race south, where her clit still felt ghosts of his touch. Terry smoothed his big hand from her waist, firmly down to cup her ass, shushing her as his touch grew deliberate, his deep voice doing little to calm her. 

“Patience baby girl, I won’t make you wait much longer I promise.” Reign let out the most dramatic sigh of relief when the elevator doors opened and practically skipped out into the hallway, Terry following close behind with an amused chuckle. He showed her to his door, unlocking it and entering first, scanning the familiar shadows as he switched on the lights. Reign stepped in and was immediately struck by the space. His loft fit him perfectly: strong, quietly confident, and magnetically stylish.

As soon as Reign moved further into his apartment, she was immediately met with Houston’s skyline, the industrial windows giving her a stunning panoramic view. His living room was divided by a dark leather couch that looked both inviting and like something he never actually used.  It faced an expensive looking suede ottoman that sat on top of a dark gray rug, softening up the feel of his sitting area. His large tv mounted on the wall was framed by a few minimalistic art prints in black and white, abstract and slightly edgy, yet tasteful.

Reign ran her fingers over the couch’s leather as she walked in, turning to face the rest of his apartment, noticing a dark sleek kitchen next to a spiral staircase that led to his lofted bedroom. His room looked like a cave from this angle behind the metal railing up there. She could imagine someone like him never actually wanting to leave a home this reclusive. 

And the smell—it was unmistakably him, a blend of sandalwood, whiskey, and something richly spicy that filled her senses the moment she walked in. Reign’s mouth watered as she took it all in, feeling like she’d walked into a private corner of Terry’s mind. She looked over her shoulder at him, and he watched her with a glint of pride in his eyes, clearly pleased with her reaction. 

"Your home is so nice, Terry. It really suits you,” she gave him a little smile gesturing to the shadows, “maybe a little too serious at first glance… but there’s something comforting about it."

Terry stepped closer, his gaze intense as he watched her move around more comfortably. "I like having you here, Reign." His voice was low, his words laced with a budding possessiveness that sent goosebumps racing across her skin. She noticed the way his fingers twitched as if he had to keep himself from reaching out to touch her right then.

She nodded, biting her lip, trying not to let her shy nature win over in this moment, not when it feels like it took her a lifetime to get here with him. She forced herself to hold his gaze, voice coming out breathless as she suggested, "why don’t I go get the shower started for us?"

Terry’s eyes darkened to a murky green, his stance relaxing as he nodded. "Upstairs to the left, I’ll be right behind you," he said, his voice thick with yearning.

With a final look, Reign headed for the spiral staircase, feeling his gaze attempt to undress her as she ascended, her heart pounding with each step.

~~~~~~~

Reign tied her braids up around themselves in a messy bun, her fingers trembling as she stripped off her clothes, her skin prickling at the rush of cool air as she leaned over to turn the shower on. Her glasses fogged as the heat rose around her, blurring the room in a soft haze. She could hear Terry moving around just on the other side of the bathroom door, and her entire body pulsed with the anticipation of him joining her. She grabbed her loofah and soap out of her bag she’d placed on the wide counter, and opened the shower door, stepping into the scalding water, letting it pour over her and coax the tension from her muscles.

She placed her glasses on the tiled shelf and turned towards the water, wetting her loofa and adding her sweet floral soap. Reign began to lather her skin softly, moaning at how sensitive her body was. She ran her soapy hands up to her neck, imagining Terry’s hands replacing her own, his warm lips finding the delicate spot behind her ear, kissing her there, and making her body melt against him.

Reign lathered her breasts, her fingers grazing over her pebbled nipples, and she called out his name sweetly. She pinched them gently and she grew impossibly wetter, letting  her hand drift lower down her body. The hot water cascaded over her curves as she trailed her loofah down her stomach, scrubbing gently across her thighs, imagining Terry’s firm grip there, his fingers pressing into her softness just hard enough to leave marks against her mahogany complexion.

The faint sound of music drifted through the door, a sensual beat that seemed to echo her pulse, and Reign leaned back against the cool glass wall. She lifted one leg, balancing it high against the opposing tiled wall, her muscles stretching as she held herself open to the hot water. The contrast of the cold glass against her back and the steaming water against her front heightened every sensation, her heart pounding at the idea of Terry stepping in to find her like this.

Reign moaned more uninhibited now, hooking one hand under her thigh to brace herself, and taking the fingers of her other hand to delicately open herself up, unwrapping her pussy like a gift as she spread her puffy lips, unveiling her clit. Her fingers mimicked the circles Terry made at the park, and a feverish desire made her standing knee buckle.

“Terry please…” she called to him louder, growing impatient, losing herself in pleasure he should be causing. Reign heard the bathroom door slam open and thud against the wall as cool air flooded in.

~~~~~~~

Terry was just trying to set the mood—a nice experience for them both, that’s all! Poor guy was running around lighting candles, tripping slightly as he yanked off his cargo pants, dropping his portable speaker when he caught her first moan. She didn’t need to see him this flustered, overwhelmed just by having her in his private space. Hell, it’d be over in 5 minutes if he didn’t get his shit together.

He shrugged off his shirt, sprayed a touch of cologne on his bed seeing as how she loved his scent, and tossed water bottles onto the side table. He was reaching to turn on the ceiling fan when he heard her again—her voice melodic, rising in pitch, like a siren calling him to drown in her depths.

Without realizing it, he was through the door, gaze zeroing in on the round curve of her ass pressed against the glass shower wall. Fuck. His needy girl, so lost in her own pleasure she hadn’t even waited for him. 

Terry actually couldn’t be bothered with anything else but going to her aid—not his boxers that were still snug on his hips, getting tighter as his dick swelled, not the speaker still thumping on his floor which would surely cause Ms. Sheila downstairs to cuss him out the next time she saw him—he was helplessly drawn to her as her energy anchored him to this moment.

Terry stalked forward, pushing the shower door open, barely registering the steaming water pelting his skin, coming to stand in the space her open legs created just for him. All words lodged in his throat as his intense gaze observed every little thing—the way her eyes were desperately squeezed shut, sweet whimpers leaving her where she bit her plump bottom lip harshly, her own nails digging into her thigh where she was holding it up against the wall, her other hand creating intoxicating wet sloshes where she thrusted two of her fingers deep into her pussy.

“Terry I need-” that was all it took to snap Terry out of the trance she put him in, hearing her voice whine his name.

“Shh baby I’m here,” he grabbed the back of her neck with one hand, bringing their wet lips to press together hungrily as his other hand replaced her own on her thigh, hoisting her leg up higher to hook around his waist. They both moaned into the heated kiss, tongues fighting for dominance, stealing each other's breath. Terry cursed against her lips when she clawed her nails into his back, pulling away from her only to dive to the crevice of her neck, leaving biting kisses that had her mewling sweetly for him.

“I know what you need baby girl,” he licked down her chest, bringing his hand from her neck to cup her breast, teasing her nipple with his soft lips as he looked up at her through his long wet lashes, “let me help you.” His tongue swirled around her nipple and Reign threw her head back as he sucked it into his hot mouth, arching her back to offer more of herself to him.

“Pleaseeee I need more Terry!” He hummed against her, moving to suck her other nipple and bite it softly, causing Reign to gasp, thigh trembling in his hand.

Terry kissed lower and lower down her soft body, making a silent promise to spend time kissing each of her tattoos later, when the need to satiate this hunger wasn’t so suffocating. He fell to his knees before her, wide shoulders forcing her standing leg to spread more, and he placed her thigh to rest heavily on his shoulder.

Terry pressed a fleeting kiss to her hard clit, his teeth grazing just enough to make her gasp. “Just so you know, Reign,” his voice deep and unyielding as he spoke, his hands gripping her hips to keep her steady. “the more you cum for me, the more you become mine. You ready for that?”

She didn’t get a chance to say a damn thing. She could only let out a sharp cry of relief as Terry’s thick lips wrapped around her clit, his tongue circling at a maddening pace and his groan of pleasure reverberated up into her body. He could drink her essence for days, her sweet warmth delighting his starving taste buds. Terry grabbed handfuls of her ass, squeezing hungrily and pressing his face harder into her, chasing her honey right to the source with his tongue. Reign’s moans echoed beautifully off every surface in the bathroom, literally music to his ears.

Terry kept his tongue in her pussy as he hooked his bicep around the thigh resting on his shoulder, bringing his thumb around to massage her clit. His eyes rolled back at the feeling of her pussy clenching around him, and he fisted himself out of his drenched boxers with his other hand, finally remembering the rushed state at which he joined her. He timed his strokes with the way his fingertips danced on her hard nub, pumping his dick firmly and moaning as she left more scratches on his back, grinding her pussy harder against his face.

“Sh-shiiit Terry! You eat my pussy sooo good baby, don't stop!” She grabbed the back of his head, wet body slipping against his hold on her as she chased those crashing waves.

Reign had lost all concepts of time and space and anything that wasn’t Terry’s persistent mouth on her and his pretty eyes boring into her whenever he could keep them open. She felt weightless, save for the heavy pulsing of her pussy seeking to drown him. Neither of them noticed the water growing cold, nor the ache in their muscles. All Reign knew is she was being ruined for anyone else who attempted to bring her to this high.

Squeaky obscenities left her mouth as Terry brought his lips back to her clit, sucking with a stronger pressure now, grunting into her as he palmed the swollen tip of his dick. “Fuck you’re gonna make me cum!” Terry moaned into her, his bright eyes blinking away the water droplets stuck to his lashes so he could see her better, wanting to imprint the sight of her orgasm to his memory for later use. “I’m gonna cum da-” her whole world shattered on his tongue, he could hardly hold on to her slick, wiggling body as she rode each coming wave, blessing him with more of her sweetness. 

She whimpered at the overstimulation of his sucking turing to soft kisses to her clit, her positively puffy lips, and all over her mound. His kisses didn’t stop as he eased her thigh off his shoulder, both of his strong hands massaging her legs lightly to get the blood circulating properly. Terry felt dizzy, drunk off her, never wanting his tongue to be rid of her unique flavor. 

Terry rose slowly, his lips trailing kisses up her trembling body, letting his hands steady her waist as she caught her breath. Reign sighed softly, her fingers brushing against his jaw to tilt his face up, her smile lazy and satisfied as she looked into his smoldering gaze.

“Baby,” she murmured, her voice still shaky, “if that’s what your mouth can do... I don’t know if I’m ready for the rest of you.”

Terry chuckled low, his lips curling into a wicked smirk. “Oh, you’ll take it. All of it,” he growled, his voice dripping with promise. “And you’ll thank me for it.” His thumb brushed tenderly along her jawline, a stark contrast to the dominance in his tone, and Reign felt her knees nearly buckle again. He pulled her to him for a kiss, letting her taste what was driving him crazy and she moaned, already getting flashbacks of his tongue in her.

Terry took a step back to stand directly under the spray of now icy water and Reign’s eyes flicked down. She laughed softly, her finger trailing playfully over the waistband of his boxers. “You’re over here tryna snatch my soul, and you’re still halfway dressed. Unacceptable.”

Terry tilted his head, amusement flickering in his gaze. “And what do you plan to do about it, Reign?”

She smirked, bending at the waist as her hands hooked under the waistband of his boxers, pulling them down slowly. “Guess I’ll have to fix that,” she murmured, the teasing rasp in her voice making him clench his jaw.

Terry’s dick sprang free, almost smacking her in the face, and her lips instinctively brushed against his tip, her tongue poking out curiously to taste the bead of precum leaking from him. Terry’s body jerked involuntarily and he stepped back quickly, his large hands gripping her shoulders gently to stop her and pull her back up. “Reign, if you do that,” he warned, his voice strained, “I won’t last. I’d rather be inside you when I give you my cum.”

Her eyes widened slightly, a mixture of surprise and satisfaction warming her features. Standing gracefully, she let her hands trail over his chest as she moved. “Alright then, let me help get you cleaned up,” she said softly, leaning in to press a sweet kiss to his lips.

Reign grabbed his soap and loofah, lathering it between her hands, her touch gentle and deliberate as she worked the suds across his broad shoulders. Her hands moved with care, tracing the lines of his muscles and washing him thoroughly, almost reverently.

The confinement of the shower made the moment feel cocooned in intimacy, their previous teasing replaced with something softer. Terry watched her through half-lidded eyes, the weight of her attention making him feel exposed in a way that had nothing to do with his nudity.

“Reign,” he said quietly, his voice full of something unspoken. She looked up at him, her hands pausing on his chest, and for a moment, neither of them moved, the fading steam curling around them like a protective veil.

“Yeah?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

“You feel…so good here. I don’t want this to just be tonight.”

Her heart skipped a beat, and she pressed her forehead to his chest, letting the water cascade over them as she whispered, “Then don’t let it be.”

~~~~~~~

Terry didn’t give them much time to dry off; his need for her was impossible to ignore, a force driving him beyond reason. He stepped out of the shower first, water glistening on his skin as he wrapped a fluffy towel low around his waist. Turning to her, his hands were gentle but firm as he gestured for her to step forward, wrapping another towel snugly around her torso.

As soon as the towel was secure, his lips captured hers, hot and insistent, tasting the lingering steam between them. With a deliberate grace, he guided her backward out of the bathroom, his large hands framing her waist as though she might disappear if he let go. When the back of her legs hit the edge of his bed, he expertly nudged his speaker aside with his foot, the motion smooth and instinctual, all his focus locked on her.

Reign pulled away from the kiss, settling herself gently onto his bed. Her hands smoothed over the dark green duvet, fingers tracing the soft fabric as she took in the mood Terry had created with the soft glow of the candles and the sensual thumping music. The room smelled of his cologne, the air thick with unspoken desire.  Her gaze flickered back to him—he stood there between her legs, his eyes dark with an intensity that made her stomach flutter. She noticed his dick twitch under the towel, and she bit her lip to stifle a smile. He couldn't help himself. She looked so damn beautiful lying there, waiting for him.

Reign’s lips curved into a teasing smile as she tugged at the edge of his towel, freeing his length, finally able to get an up close and personal view of him. His whole body was absolutely beautiful, she doesn’t know why she was so surprised to find his dick was too as it hung heavily against his thigh, and she could practically see his heartbeat from here with how thick his veins are. 

She looked up at him through innocently fluttering lashes, her voice low and playful. “You’ve kept me waiting long enough.” Terry reached forward to gently tug at her own towel, freeing her soft curves and beautifully decorated skin.

“Do you want to use a co-” she cut him off with a sure shake of her head, placing her warm hands on his thighs, feeling them flex as he kneeled over her on to the bed, prompting her to scoot backwards to make space for him.

“Are you on birth-” he stopped talking with a laugh, watching her smile and nod her head, laying back on his pillows, spreading her legs wide for him. 

“Don’t make me beg Terry, not again.” He wouldn’t be that cruel with her, yet. Without further prompt, he bent over Reign, hooking a strong bicep around her torso and lifted her against his body, causing her to squeak in surprise. She could feel his tip nudge against her clit, almost slipping inside of her from how wet she was. Terry grabbed two pillows from the head of his bed, placed them under her lower back, and gently set her back down. This way he could stay more elevated on his knees, and her pussy would be right where he needed her. Oh he was not about to play with her at all.

Terry leaned over Reign to give her a wet, sweet kiss, grabbing her wrist and guiding her hands to hold her thighs open for him. Reign silently obeyed, moaning into the kiss as she felt his dick glide over her slick pussy, his length hot and demanding, and she felt her heart start to race faster. Terry broke the kiss, whispering lowly against her lips “keep these hands right here okay? Keep yourself open for me, pretty girl.”

She bit her lip and nodded, watching as Terry straightened back into his kneel, sturdy thighs flexing dangerously. One of his hands coming on top of hers, applying more pressure to her thigh, spreading her open more, the other hand smacking his dick against her puffy pussy, causing her to yelp at how sensitive her clit still was from earlier. Terry couldn’t take his eyes off her, the soft pink peeking out from the brown petals of her lips, it was so fucking pretty, just like his girl. He began to rock his hips against her, his thighs kissing hers as he grinded his dick through her pussy lips with more purpose.

“Remember what I said, Reign? Hmm?” He slapped his tip heavily on her clit to get her attention and Reign nodded frantically, squeezing her eyes shut as she squeaked out—

“The more I cum, the more I’m yours daddy!” Terry groaned at that, at her remembering, at her calling him that already, at her wetness coating his dick and dripping down his length.

“That’s my good fucking girl.” His voice was deep, a growl in the back of his throat as he finally slipped into her. The sensation of her tightness wrapped around him made his eyes roll back for a moment—he was struggling to hold himself together.

She moaned, pulling him deeper as she clenched around him, a natural instinct as her body tried to pull him in. “Let me in, baby girl.” He didn’t ask, and his shallow thrusts seemed to possess a rhythm of their own. His hands moved to her hips, gripping them tightly as he watched her body react. Her tits bounced lightly with each thrust, and his mouth watered at the sight.

Reign bit her lip, a look of strained concentration on her face as she tried to relax her walls. He felt so damn good, filling her completely, stretching her in ways that made her burn. The pillows under her tilted her hips up, causing him to repeatedly hit her g spot.  She struggled to hold her composure, the pleasure building in her core.

Terry’s eyes locked on where they connected, primal instinct surging within him. He opened his mouth, not asking but needing to see it—drooling on her pussy as he watched his cock slide into her, slick with her wetness. She moaned loudly, her body tightening at the sensation, her pussy opening up even more as he slowly sank deeper.

“Fucking hell, this pussy feels so good, baby,” he groaned. He slid his hand down, rubbing the extra wetness onto her clit, rewarding her for letting him in, for giving him more.

Eyes hazed and misty, she gripped her thighs tighter, trying to do as he said and keep her legs up and open. She groaned, her body trembling as she fought to hold back another orgasm. Reign bit her lip, muffling an agonized moan at his slow, fluid thrusts.  Terry noticed his pretty girl trying to hold back.

“I’ve been wanting to be here…” his voice deeper and husky from his visceral need for her, and Reigns moans increased in volume at how she could somehow feel his voice in the depth of her being, right where his tip repeatedly kissed her cervix. 

“…in this moment with you, for too long Reign.” He could hardly speak anymore, the feeling of her warm pussy squeezing around him in response to his words, it was too much. Reign moaned louder, eyes shut tightly at his increased thrusting, getting lost in all he was giving her. 

“Don’t hold back shit from me, baby girl. Give me everything.” And Terry watched the dam break, listened to the uninhibited moans she gifted him, the squeal of his name as she gushed and came around his length. 

“Yesss” Terry hissed at her, smiling darkly as his fingers sped up on her clit, and he leaned over her, her thighs now pressed against his chest, causing him to dig impossibly deeper. “Keep going baby, give me more” 

She missed the crazed look in his eyes, the way this moment solidified her as his new drug. Poor thing was too busy making a mess of his dick, pussy creaming and squeezing, leaking her cum. 

"Say thank you for making me cum daddy." Terry started circling his hips every time he bottomed out in her, dragging her orgasm out with a harsh grind.

"Thank you daddy! Fuck its too much baby I—"

Terry cut her off by leaning over her further, her ankles now resting on his broad shoulders. He turned his head to the side and, before he could stop himself, he leaned down, kissing and sucking on her toes. Her squeals hit his ears like music, the sudden shock of the sensation making her pussy gush even more. Everything about her was so natural and so pretty, and Terry found himself hungry for every inch of her—nothing was off limits to his tongue. He could feel his balls tightening; he wouldn’t last much longer.

“Where do you want my cum pretty girl?” his thrusts were sloppy, his breathing was ragged. He stared into her pretty eyes, his brows furrowed with barely restrained ecstasy.

“I want you to nut in me baby.” her sweet voice asking him to mark her walls as his own was too much for him to question if this was a good idea, he simply obeyed his pretty girl’s command with a loud groan, dropping his head to the crook of her neck and slowing his thrusts until he was twitching spurt after spurt of cum deep into her. 

Reign ran her hands up and down his back, smoothing over the scratches she left there earlier, trying to ignore the ache in her hip joints at feeling more of his weight rest heavily on her body. The warmth blossoming inside of her as he grew softer within her left her feeling content as exhaustion settled in. After a moment, Terry propped himself up on his forearms, giving Reign room to move her legs further down his body, wrapping around his narrow hips. His piercing eyes implored her own, leaning down to kiss her nose softly and smiling at her sweet laugh. 

She brought her hand down to lightly trace the edges of the nicely healing tattoo she’d given him. A new song playing from his speaker caught her attention and he watched that playful glint return to her eyes. 

“Hmm I guess this means you’re mine now too, huh soldier?” Her teasing smile softened as she noticed the earnest look of his own.

“I think I’ve always been yours Reign,” the burning intensity in his eyes left her breathless, “I just didn’t know it yet.”

~~~~~~~~

I'm gonna go take a nap 🥲 let me know what you think! A warning, chapter 5 is way worse than this. I really had so much to get out of my system 💀

Taglist: @megamindsecretlair @slutsareteacherstoo @liatreads @sageispunk @teddybeerz @eviescloset @planetblaque @soft-persephone @violetmuses @miyuhpapayuh @iterum-incipi @blackgurlnhermoods @helloncrocs @blyffe @meannaim @nun0ir @onherereading @eilujion @maria-gab-rielle @gg-trini @gwenda-fav @violetlovezzz @keyaho @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @honeytoffee @avoidthings @brattyfics @abeautifulmindexposed @blowmymbackout @kumkaniudaku @pocketsizedpanther @mysecretbleedingheart @amyhennessyhouse @tvchi @aristasworld @stabrichie @geriixox @diaries-of-me

[highwayorgantrade]

Safe House

Pairing: Female Reader! X Soap

Request: Nooo

Summary: Oh no! A bunch of soldiers posted up in your farmhouse bed and breakfast?? Whatever shall you do!! Should you fuck them??

Word Count: 4.4k

Warnings: Overstimulation, begging, volume (keep quiet), unprotected sex, cervix kissing 

Author's note: Okay listen y'all I did not plan on doing this whatsoever. I was in the middle of writing a Graves thing when I got this idea and I knew I just had to get that damn little brain worm out before it ruined my life further. This is gonna be a series!!!!!

The mission had gone wrong. Oh, so horribly wrong. 141 thought they were smart by teaming up with Los Vaqueros again to take down a trafficking ring - “Positive international relations,” Price had called it. “We even got imported muscle.” He grinned, referring to the 6’10” man they had called in, after hearing of his ability to do his job and keep his mouth shut.

 However, the ring had decided on the same tactic, bringing in a nearby cartel to defend their location. Quickly, way too quickly, the group was overwhelmed, frantically phoning in to Laswell for extraction.

“Don’t worry,” She sighed, after directing the seven men to a relatively safe area, the black-tinted SUV already flying gravel. “I have a friend.”

You had just so happened to be the friend. Well, the relative was more accurate, being her sister-in-law. You knew what she did for work, but you never thought she would call on you for help with it.

“Please, (Y/N), it’ll only be for a few days, I swear. A week, tops.” She called you early one November morning. “I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important.” And you knew she wouldn’t. The fact was simple: You had lived relatively nearby, and the bed and breakfast you operated and lived in certainly had the facilities to house eight people, and it so happened to be the off-season.

You were eager to accept, happy to help your sister, and it would be nice to have some muscle with the chores that needed done around the property. When the SUV pulled up, you quickly regretted your decision. You had expected a house full of military boys, tearing around like a pack of dogs, but out stepped six of the most attractive men you have ever seen, all completely different, but equally as handsome and rugged. Two were masked, but Christ, were they big anyway. As they loaded packs out of the van, you stepped into the grass, the cold air causing you to draw your cardigan tighter around yourself. When you approached, you kept a safe distance - partly because you didn’t know them, but also because you were afraid that if you got too close, you’d get lost in the intricacies of their faces.

“Hey!” You spoke finally, the rustling of the dying leaves nearly drowning you out. “I’m (Y/N), I hope the trip out wasn’t too awful!” You internally cringed at yourself for giving them the usual spiel you reserved for guests, but continued anyway. “Come on in, all the rooms are pretty much the same, but you can pick, so… that’s something.”

“Ay, don’t worry lass, better by miles than where we’ve been.” One of them finally spoke, casting a friendly grin your way, and you turned quickly to hide the burning on your cheeks. 

You were proud of the way your property looked, hidden well off the road in a small forested area, the whole thing had kind of an eclectic feel to it, but you still felt kind of strange leading them into the common area. 

“Okay!” You clasped your hands together, and tried to remember that you were only a housing opportunity - they had more important things to focus on. “Well, uh, I’ll stay out of your way as much as I can, but you might see me flitting about here and there. What’s mine is yours.” Some nodded their thanks, others were making quick work of checking their bags for God knows what, and one, the one in a skull mask, merely stared down at you, his large arms crossed on his chest.

Okay… You took that as your cue to leave, and you quickly stepped out the back door, hoping to make progress on your chores before the sun set.

The frigid air felt nearly unbearable compared to how hot you were burning in their presence - you didn’t even realize that you were slightly sweating. With a sigh, you reminded yourself of your responsibilities. Repaint the gazebo, refill and hang the bird feeders, and fix the greenery so everything is in full bloom by summer. Leaves crunched under your step as the half-painted gazebo came into view. You could hear voices coming from your house, a few with different accents, mostly British, but you could pick out a Scottish, a vaguely German, and a couple Spanish lilts. A booming laugh echoed, and you relaxed your tense shoulders at the sound. 

“Don’t make me regret this, Kate.” You mumbled as you settled into the grass and popped open a paint can.

She was pretty. It was the first thing Soap had noticed. It looked like she belonged here, in the woods, with the wind blowing her hair and birds singing in her presence. No doubt she kept them well-fed. He had barely listened when she spoke - he was much too focused on how her sweater wrapped tightly around her body, or how her eyes seemed to physically sparkle with curiosity. She had said something, Soap had no idea, but he responded anyway. Something about the drive? The rooms?

“Ay, don’t worry lass, better by miles than where we’ve been.” He answered, stabbing that it was an appropriate response. The way she averted her eyes and a hint of a smile played at the edges of her lips told him that he was successful. When she turned around to lead them into the safehouse, Price gave him a nudge and shook his head ‘no.’ No fucking Kate’s pretty little sister? Might as well ask him to walk on fucking water, next. 

She had promised to make herself scarce, and Soap was silently thankful. He didn’t want this woman caught up in what they were doing, and he didn’t want her to know something that could get her in trouble - Laswell would never forgive them. When she left, Alejandro was the first to speak.

“Nobody talk to me about this mission tonight.” He grumbled, and Soap recognized that as a request long ago, based on the way his jaw was clenched nearly the entire drive to the location, muttering what Soap assumed to be expletives every so often. He trudged up the stairs with his bag, Rudy trailing not far behind. 

“Right, then.” Ghost spoke, rolling his shoulders and pulling out a map of the enemy facility and laying it on the wood table, and Soap nearly laughed at how out of place it looked. “If they’ve gotten support from that gang, it eliminates them from support from anyone else, and makes them a target to others, not just us.”

“We need to get to them first.” Konig’s hand landed on the map, gesturing vaguely at an entrance. “This was lightly guarded.” Soap stared at the location, before his eyes flitted out the window to see you approaching a gazebo outside, and he itched to get this out of the way.

“Aye, they might reinforce that entrance since they know it’s weak now. Leaves somewhere else open to vulnerability.” Soap strategized, his eyes lingering on how your hands ran through your hair, and JESUS, how did it still look perfect after that? A light thump on the back of his head pulled him out of his thoughts, and he looked back to see Gaz with a raised eyebrow, the corners of his mouth turning upwards. 

“No-go, mate. Red zone. Laswell would have your head on a stick.”

“Might be worth it.” Ghost chimed in, following his gaze to the woman.

Price pointed a warning finger to Ghost, his face stony.

“Ghost, stop instigating. Gaz, leave Soap alone. Konig…” He took a breath, considering the man had nothing to do with their antics. “Good job. Soap, I wish I had control over who a soldier decides to sleep with, but I don’t.”

“That girl in Ibiza left a bad taste in your mouth, Cap?” Soap retorted, recalling one of his more infamous hook-ups, and Price laughed loudly.

“Lesson for the inexperienced,” Ghost turned to Konig. “Remember your date’s name or she will throw a knife at you.” Konig shook his head at this, and slung his bag over his shoulder, ready to call it a day.

“Sounds like my kind of woman.”

Soap had already tuned the ribbing out, and when Ghost packed up the plans, he was already tracing your path, walking out the back door to meet you.

A rustling of leaves caused your head to perk up, and you turned to see the one who had spoken to you earlier, a small smile on his face.

“Need any help?” He tilted his head at the gazebo. “More hands make less work ‘n all.” You looked back at your work, having made minimal progress since you began. 

“Oh! Yeah, sure. If you want.” You responded, pulling the paint tray out in front of you so he could take the spare paintbrush. A moment of silence passed before he spoke again.

“I’m Johnny. Most of the guys call me Soap, though.”

Soap? The nickname seemed to come out of nowhere, and you crinkled your nose at this.

“Why do they call you that? You shower more than everyone else or something?” He laughed at this, reaching up to cover the underside of a railing in white paint, and you fought to keep your eyes from lingering on his arms.

“Good at cleaning house, love.” Soap corrected you, your lips pursing at the nickname. “How long have you had this place?”

You shrugged, simply happy that he was making conversation with you.

“Coupl’a years. Since I was twenty. Bought it as a dump and flipped it.” He makes a noise of approval and takes a deep breath. 

“Your, uh, boyfriend live here with you, does he?” At this, you can’t help but allow a laugh to tear through you, both in recognition of what Soap was doing, and out of pure shock that he was doing it.

“Not sure where my boyfriend lives, I haven’t met him yet. Let me know if you find him, though, yeah?” Soap shook his head.

“I don’t think I will, but thank you for the offer.”

The back and forth with Soap left your head reeling, and you considered your options as you painted in silence. Kate would kill you if she found out, but she doesn’t need to find out. It has been terribly long since you’ve even been on a date, or even had sex for that matter, and Soap certainly isn’t the worst looking man in the world. He clearly had a great body, and you delved down the rabbit hole of how his arms would look pinning your arms above your head, his battle-worn dog tag trailing cold electricity down your chest.

A flash of yellow light pulled you out of your musings, and a firefly landed on your knee. You took a deep breath and turned to Soap, his attention garnered by your sudden movement of waving the small bug away.

“Do you wanna have a drink tonight? With me?” Your face was comically serious, and Soap let out a soft chuckle as he replaced the lid on the paint, taking the brush from your hand.

“Aye.” He stood, sighing a bit at the noise his knees made, and handed you the paint tray.

“I’ll, uh, go put this up and meet you inside.” You offered him a small smile, and his head tilted at you, trying to hide his own.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Soap had to stop himself from running back into the house. Giddiness coursed through him, and he burst through the door to see Gaz, Ghost, and Konig sat in various places around the living room, the TV tuned in to the local news.

“Get the fuck out.” He stated simply, his eyes wide and a dumb grin on his face.

“Pardon?” Ghost barely spared him a glance, and Konig automatically stood, silently confused as to where he was supposed to go. Gaz merely stared up at him.

“I said,” Soap wrapped his hand around Ghost’s bicep and pulled, forcing the man to stand, and Gaz followed. “Get the fuck out.”

“You sendin’ us to bed, then, eh?”

Soap picked up Ghost’s bag for him, and shoved it into his chest, nearly pushing the men up the stairs.

“I am.” He turned to Gaz, his mouth already open to protest, and pointed a finger in his face. “If you fuck this up for me, I will end you.” 

The second the three men shut the door to their respective rooms, you stepped back into the house, locking the backdoor behind you.

I raised an eyebrow at the television, and grinned at Soap.

“Did you turn on the news?” I ask, grabbing two glasses and a bottle of wine from cabinets, pouring us both a fairly full glass.

“Yeah, it’s a new form of foreplay.” He laughed, taking a sip. “Learnin’ that we world is shite.” 

“Oh, so foreplay is important to you?” And that question was your first step. He glanced at you from across the kitchen island, and you could just see the gears in his mind turning, figuring out the best way to get himself into your bed. Honestly, he could have asked to bend you dead over the kitchen counter, his large hand pulling your hair as leverage as he thrusted into you from behind.

But your imagination always runs wild.

“Mm. ‘S very important.” You cocked your head at his answer, and he shrugged. “I prefer to have a girl simply beggin’ before I even think of finishing.” He took a step around the island, not quite in front of you, but leaning on the side. You sipped your wine again, trying to cover your reaction to his answer, but there was no wine glass big enough to cover how you pressed your legs together, one hand gripping the counter with slightly more force than necessary.

“How do you do that?” It was an effort to keep your tone even , trying not to show how badly he was affecting you.

“Eh.” He set his wine glass down, finger lightly circling the base of the stem. “Usually have ‘em coming a few times before I get my own.”

Holy fuck. You needed Soap, and you needed him bad.

“Ah, so only good reviews then?” Damnit, why is your voice suddenly higher? You cleared your throat to try to get it to return to normal, and the fucking bastard smirked at you.

“So far. Tell me, love.” That damn nickname again. “When was the last time you were fucked?” You opened your mouth to answer, but it didn’t matter as Soap began talking again. “Ah, lemme revise that. When was the last time you were properly fucked? The last time someone had you cryin’, had you just stupid on their cock?”

You were buzzing, shaking slightly at Soap’s vulgar words. His accent got lower, rougher as he spoke, and you could feel your arousal tying a knot in your throat.He simply stared at you, waiting for your answer with a dumb smile on his face, like he already knew.

“Oh, no, don’t tell me…” He began, in mock sympathy. “Never?” You shook your head at him, not wanting to tell him the truth.

In all reality, you’ve never orgasmed with someone else. It was all only you, and you learned quickly not to say this, as all men would try to be the first. Then you’d end the night by lying, and they would go with their egos inflated.

You both stood, the tension in the kitchen more than you could bear, and just as you were about to dismiss yourself for the night, Soap wrapped a hand around your forearm - Not tightly enough to worry you, but just enough so you looked up at him, your faces inches from each other.

“Love, I don’t like to, uh, think I’m all that, y’know?” He cleared his throat. “But I’d like to try. Show some thanks to our host.”

In one last attempt at quieting down your own perverse thoughts, you set your wine glass down, and looked at the floor.

“Ah, you don’t need to thank me Soap.”

“I absolutely do,” He responded immediately. “I really do need to. Nothin’ better than a pretty face while I work.”

You bite the inside of your lip, considering all the ways this could go bad. Every single one was overrun with the way Soap was searching your eyes, silently pleading for you. With a purse of your lips, you poured the rest of your wine down the sink, and smiled.

“Absolutely.”

You barely got the words out before Soap wrapped his arm around your waist and lifted, slinging you over his shoulder and making his way up the stairs, searching for any room that didn’t look like it was already occupied.

“Mine’s on the other end.” You breathed in an effort not to laugh at his eagerness, and he turned on his heels toward a door that was differently painted than the rest. He placed a hand over your head, protecting you from a bump as he ducked through the doorframe, and less-than-gently set you on your bed, locking the door behind him.

When he turned, you didn’t see the sweet man offering to help you with painting, you saw a soldier. A soldier tuned into your every breath, every movement, and every thought. He kneeled in front of the bed, between your legs, and began planting lighter than air kisses on your ankle, untying your shoes and setting them to the side haphazardly.

“Red means stop.” He whispered against your skin, traveling upward to your knee. “Yellow is slow down, green is good. Repeat it.”

“Red is-“ You were cut off by your own gasp as he delivered a light bite to the inside of your thigh before kissing it again, and you could feel him smile against you. “Red is stop. Yellow is slow. Green is good.”

“And where are we now?” He breathed against the spot right where your thigh met your most sensitive area, and you felt your stomach jump.

“Green. So, so green.” A whimper escaped you, and Soap tsked, like he was about to scold you.

“Stay quiet, lass.” Teased Soap, as he slid your shorts down, along with your underwear, and he whistled lowly. “A Chriosd ann an ifrinn, seall ort, a nighean bhòidheach.” And with that, he licked one long, thick strip up your cunt, dipping down to tease your hole with his tongue. Soap was eating you out like a man starved, and you were obsessed. 

Light, breathy moans left you, ever so aware of how quiet everything else was. 

“Tell me what feels good, love.” He punctuated his command with a nip to your thigh, pulling your mind out of the pleasure-induced haze. His tongue traveled through your folds, eyes trained on you to see your reaction to his ministrations. Soap’s lips wrap around your clit, fingers toying with your soaking entrance, and it felt like all rational thought had left you. You didn’t care about who exactly was between your legs, nor if his team could hear your desperate mewls.

The pressure inside you was building, and your movement was strange - trying to wriggle away from the incessant barrage against your clit, and trying to grind impossibly closer to Soap’s lips, and by his huff, it was clear he had enough of that. One large arm wrapped around a thigh, his other pressing down on your abdomen, and the only noise Soap could muster was a few low groans as he continued devouring you.

The knot inside you was getting tighter and tighter, and it felt like it was going to snap any second. A split moment of panic ran through you as your back arched off the bed, Begs and cries tumbling out of your lips before you could think of them.

“Soap, please, please.” You cried, hands aching from gripping the sheets. “Please don’t stop, please…” Staying true to your direction, Soap was unrelenting against you, the combination of his sucking, biting, and licking at your clit had dizzy spots appearing in your vision. With one hard push on your abdomen, and a particularly slow drag of his tongue at your entrance, you felt that snap, and you finally understood why it was called the Little Death.

Your mind had gone completely blank, mouth open in a silent scream, and your thighs clamped around either side of Soap’s head, where he still had yet to stop drinking you. It felt like your heart had even stopped beating, until the pounding was heard in your ears. As Soap continued, you felt your body lurch upwards, fingers tangling in Soap’s hair until he finally looked up at you, his hand coming back to slide a finger into you.The sudden intrusion forced a gasp from you, and he gently kissed your thigh, where you noticed the ache that predates a bruise.

“How we doin’, love? We okay?” His voice was impossibly sweet, a complete 180 to how he just made you feel. You nodded, despite feeling like every single sense in your body had been blown out. His finger continued sliding in and out of you, your walls pulsing around him.

“Green.” You confirmed breathily, and he smiled a wolfish grin before adding a second digit into you, his pace quickening. A quick flash of aggravation and desperation coursed through you, and you knew how to get exactly what you wanted. 

You looked down at him, eyebrows upturned in a pleading look, and your doe-eyes were working overtime. 

“Please, Soap, just fuck me.” You said, voice higher and more gentle than you thought it would come out, and he groaned, rolling his head against your leg. His fingers took on a ‘come here’ motion, and your eyes rolled in the back of your head at the feeling.

“Ah, I know what you want. You want these…” Soap planted a kiss on your thighs, interrupting his own speech. “God, these pretty thighs pinned behind your head, taking me so well, takin’ me so good.” He looked absolutely pussydrunk, his eyes darting between your eyes and his fingers, tsking and offering a slight noise of false sympathy when a tear rolled down your cheek. Your walls pulsed around his fingers, and you could feel that fire building inside of you again. “Christ, love, you wanna come again, huh?” You nodded furiously at his question, one hand coming up to absentmindedly play with your tits. A bright look crossed Soap’s face, and while his hands continued, his mouth met your hands.

His lips wrapped around your nipple, and before you could think, he bit down - the orgasm that crashed through you was stronger than the last, and the muscles in your thighs screamed from being clenched so tightly. You felt his fingers work their way out of your pussy, hissing at the feeling of your walls clenching around nothing.

“You want me to fuck you now, pretty thing?” His face was almost smug as he climbed up on the bed, one hand going to your lower back to effortlessly raise you, and he peppered light kisses on your sweat-covered face. Of course you want him, how could you not? Your body was buzzing with the aftershocks of two orgasms, and here he was, lining himself up with you.

“God, yes, please.” You breathed, hands coming to rest on his back. Soap brought his lips down next to your ear, sending another shock straight to your core.

“Beg better.” He punctuated his command by rubbing his cock through your folds, and you twitched when the head ground against your already sensitive clit. Beg better? Fuck you, Soap. 

You took his face in your hands, forcing him to look at you and, hopefully, how serious you looked.

“Fuck me, Soap. Now.” 

The simple instruction was all it took for him to push inside you, and it was like it activated something in him - Soap simply could not shut up.

“Ach, mo Dhia, tha thu a 'faireachdainn cho foirfe timcheall orm. So perfect.” He planted a kiss to your temple. “So perfect, my pretty girl.” 

You brought your lips up to his neck, kissing the curve where it meets his shoulder, and his babbling only continued as his cock dragged against nearly every nerve, your broken moans echoing through your room. God, his slow pace was nearly agonizing, you wanted more, you needed more. It was like Soap read your mind as he paused, hooking your knees above his shoulders, effectively pinning you into the mattress. He flashed you a wicked grin before he began his jackhammer pace, and this new position had him reaching impossibly deep inside you.

A vague, low ache began in your abdomen every time he bottomed out, his head kissing your cervix every single time. The depth combined with his pace, his groaning and endless praise in your ear - it felt like it was all culminating in a perfect storm, one that was threatening to break down every fibre of your being.

“Fuck, Soap, I’m going to-” You interrupted yourself with a low, hoarse groan, your admission only spurring him on as he replaced his hold on your knees with his hands.

“Look at me, love, I wanna see it, I wanna see you.” His stuttering hips told you he was in the same spot as you, and you both were not going to last much longer. “Come for me, pretty girl.” He growled, and that was all it took for you.

Your legs shook uncontrollably as you released around him, and your ending brought his own on. Curses left him lips as he buried himself inside you, collapsing next to you.

“Ach, come ‘ere.” He breathed, reaching his arm out to hook around your waist and pulling you to him, one leg wrapping around his waist. One hand rested on your jaw, planting kisses on your forehead, cheek, anywhere he could get access to. Your body felt numb, and you knew he stayed true to his word - you were fucked absolutely stupid. You wanted to talk, you wanted to ask where this left you? Would you ignore that this happened? Would it recur? Would he tell his team about it? You wanted to ask, and yet you didn’t - The song of crickets and his heartbeat was a lullaby, and one that you couldn’t fight.

The snare of sleep overtook you as your heart rate evened out, and only one thought was on your mind before you gave up the fight for consciousness:

You really fucking hope you don’t regret this.