#vague or regretful longing? yes

[velarisdusk]

just know that if you’ve ever spam liked my stuff, i recognize your @ every time i see it and i lie awake at night thinking wistfully about what our life together would be like

[springtyme]

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐖𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐀 𝐁𝐚𝐛𝐲 ♡

afab!reader x König, Ghost, Price, Gaz, & Soap

warnings: Allusions to sex/sexual themes, some angst but mostly fluff, König picks reader up, unplanned pregnancy, references to Simon's past (I've tried to keep it very vague cause that is a really rough topic), implied ptsd, mention of painful (IUD-related) period cramps (18+ mdni!)

word count: 5k

part two

König ♡

Your hands instinctively find their way to König’s hair, as the kiss deepens, tangling your fingers in the soft strands as the intensity of the moment increases and the atmosphere around you grows more and more steamy. Despite your wish to fully emerge yourself in the euphoric feeling, something in the back of your mind keeps nagging at you.    

You have all evening had an underlying feeling that you have forgotten something, but without being able to figure out what, but as König’s hand starts to wander downwards, grabbing a handful of your arse it dawns on you. 

Condoms. You forgot to pick up condoms earlier…  

You have recently gotten your IUD removed, due to heavy period cramps. You had hoped and believed that it would get better over time but it had seemed like you had been one of the unlucky ones for whom it just didn’t get any better. 

You don’t regret your decision, your last period was way less painful than before, but after being on contraceptives and in a committed relationship for so long, you have still not gotten back into the habit of buying condoms again.     

“Fuck…” You groan out as you curse yourself out for your forgetfulness. 

 “What’s the matter, meine Liebe?" 

You sigh as you bury your face into his broad chest. He gently strokes your back and holds you closer. Taking a deep breath, you lift your head and meet his concerned gaze. “I forgot to pick up condoms earlier," you admit, your voice filled with frustration. “We're all out, and I didn't even realise until now.”

König's face softens, understanding the reason for your sudden frustration. He gently cups your face in his hands, his eyes filled with love and reassurance. “It's alright, Schatzi," he says, his voice calming. “We'll manage,” he lets out a low chuckle. “Besides, I'm skilled with my hands and mouth, no?”

You let out a sound, somewhere between a sigh and a chuckle, at his words. He is, truely, very skilled. But you have to admit that you haven’t been able to stop thinking about having him inside of you, to have him ravish you with his cock, all day. You’re currently ovulating, and like always, when you’re at this point of your cycle, your hornyness-level increases immensely.  

“Yes, you are skilled, my love,” you assure him, “Very skilled, I had just hoped that I would have been able to ride you tonight without worrying about you cumming inside me. You confess, “I haven't been able to stop thinking about it all day,” you feel a tiny bit embarrassed by your blunt confession - but only a tiny bit. You don’t think that you ever could feel truly embarrassed about confessing anything like that to him, you are too comfortable with him, too secure in your relationship for that. That is one of the most beautiful things about your relationship with König. He makes you feel so loved and seen and protected. The way he can look at you and make you feel like you’re the only woman in the world.         

You feel how he squeezes you a little tighter by your confession, but also how his bulge hardens even more by your words. The burning fire that has been smouldering in your abdomen the entire day is now fully ablaze, and you feel how your pulse is throbbing between your legs. 

The thought of bouncing on König’s cock, of having his mouth buried between your legs, of having him on top of you, of cuming on his cock as he fills you up till you’re leaking with his release, infiltrates your mind.  

“I’m not going to lie, that would have been nice to do, Schatz,” he says and you can only agree.  

But before you can voice your agreement, König continues, his voice filled with a mix of vulnerability and determination.“Would it be so bad if we said screw it and did it anyway?” 

Surprised by his suggestion, you pause, unsure of how to respond. The idea of not using protection has not been something you have seriously considered before. Curiosity gets the better of you, and you ask him, “What are you thinking?”

He takes a deep breath, his eyes filled with a mix of nerves and excitement as he meets your gaze. “I've been thinking a lot lately… Well, I have actually been thinking for a while now and I realised that I would really like to have a baby with you. That I’m ready to start a family together,” " he confesses, his eyes never leaving yours.��

His words catch you a little off guard, and you feel a flurry of emotions rushing through you. The idea of becoming parents together is not something you have discussed yet, you take a moment to gather your thoughts before responding, “Having a baby is a big decision.” 

“I know and I know that we haven’t talked or planned for this, and it may not be the ideal situation or timing, but… I can't help but want it, and I don’t know… this just feels like maybe it’s a sign.”

You're taken aback by König's revelation, a mix of surprise and uncertainty washing over you. However, his unwavering gaze and the love in his voice give you a sense of comfort and reassurance.

“I've seen how amazing you are with children,” he continues, his voice filled with warmth. “And I can't think of anyone else I'd want to start a family with. We may not have planned for it now, but I can’t help but want it.”

His words touch your heart, and you find yourself considering the idea. Despite the initial shock, a part of you has always known that you wanted to start a family with König, despite the two of you not having had a serious conversation about it yet. 

As you take a moment to collect your thoughts, you realise that this situation could be an opportunity to grow together, to embark on a new chapter in your lives. You look into König's eyes, a mix of hope and determination shining within them.

Now that it’s said out loud, and you have seen the want and longing in Königs eyes, the idea of starting a family with him seems right, downright logical. 

“Maybe you're right,” you say, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “Maybe it is a sign.”

König’s face lights up with joy, relief evident in his expression. He pulls you closer, his strong arms enveloping you with love and excitement. “Wirklich?!” His eyes now shining with unshed tears of joy. 

“Yes, my love, really.” You grin up at him, before letting out a surprised shriek as you’re suddenly lifted from the ground.

König’s spinning you around as he lets out a deep laugh of pure excitement. You feel how tears start to form in your own eyes. You lock your legs around his torso as he finally stops spinning, your hands cupping his cheeks and your gaze finding his again.  

“You really want a baby with me?” He whispers, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, the air filled with a thick tenderness. 

“I do,” you assure him, before kissing him softly. “Let’s make a baby.” You whisper into his lips.   

Ghost ♡

This isn’t happening…  

This can’t be happening. 

Simon doesn’t even know how to describe what he is feeling. Is shock a feeling? It doesn’t really matter–a feeling or not–shock is the only thing that he is feeling after the words have left your mouth. Or maybe, in reality, he is feeling so much all at once that shock is the only thing his overstimulated brain can register. 

Simon has been in situations that would leave any other person in a state of paralysing shell shock, more times than he will ever be able to count, but he always finds himself able to push through it, but not this time. No, this is about the most petrified he has been in years.   

His mind is running a hundred miles an hour and has gone completely blank at the same time as he tries to process what you just told him. He finally manages to pull himself somewhat out of his trance and his eyes finally find yours again. 

The look on your face pains him, and what pains him, even more, is the knowledge that he is the reason that you are pulling that face. His instincts, the protective side of him, scream to take you into his arms and comfort you but he is still too paralysed by the situation to do so.   

“Ar-are you sure?” He manages to say, his voice cracking. He sounds uncharacteristically frail, the usual husky gruff  of his voice weakened. 

“I took three tests, Simon…” You say.  

He just nods as the reality of the situation fully hits him, he feels how his heart sinks as he absorbs the weight of your words. The room feels suffocating, as if the walls are closing in on him. He takes a shaky breath, desperately attempting to maintain the little composure he had managed to gain.

“And you really want to keep it..?” He hates how the words sound as soon as they leave his mouth. You don’t deserve this reaction, but he had never thought he would be in this situation. 

It has always been a secret wish of his, a wish he knew he never would be deserving of getting granted. It would be too pure, too good for someone like him. But it has not kept him from secretly dreaming about it. All those late nights over the years when he has laid in his bunk on employment and couldn’t sleep, with no distractions other than his own head. On nights like those, he has let his mind wander, let his imagination run wild, and dreamt about it. Something wholesome and good, so different from the stress and terrors that come with his line of work. 

On the worst nights when the nightmares keep him up or the adrenaline just won’t leave his body and let him get any rest, he lets himself indulge in the fantasy. It used to be more vague, but after he had met you they got clearer, more evident, almost tangible, which had scared the shit out of him. The fantasy of someday having a family of his own, of getting a chance to do everything right, of doing it differently from how he grew up himself.

But that was all it ever was, all it ever could be, a fantasy… How could it ever be anything else?! How could someone like him ever be a good dad?  It was a thing that might not be that unrealistic of a wish if he was anyone else but himself. 

He is too broken for that, has seen and experienced too much fucked up shit, and committed too many sins. But, fuck, now that it is actually within reach actually a real possibility he can’t help but yearn for it, even though it scares him shitless.        

“I know that we have never discussed this and that it was nowhere near planned and I’m sorry if this fucks up everything between us but…” You trail off, nervously fidgeting with your sleeve, your eyes have left him, as you chew on as you take a shaky breath as if you’re gathering courage to continue, “I think I want this, Simon,” you finally say, your voice low and shaky, close to a whisper, but you take another breath, this one deep and certain, as you again lock your eyes with his, “I want this baby, Simon.”  

Your eyes shine with a certainty that sends a rush through Simon’s entire body. You want this baby… His baby. It is like the entire world stops, a whirlwind of emotions runs through him in this moment and he can’t deny it anymore. He wants it too. He wants this baby, to become a family, to be the man that he always secretly has dreamed of being.

“I want it too,” He is still trembling slightly but a tone of determination has returned to his voice. 

“You do..?” Your voice close to a whisper, but a hopeful tone lacing the unsurety.        

“Yes,” and he does, he really does. “I want to be a family.” 

“Really?”    

“Yes. Don’t get me wrong, I’m scared shitless, but I do want this, sweetheart,” he reaches out a trembling hand towards you, wanting to offer some form of comfort, and to reassure you that he means what he is saying,  “I really do.” 

“I love you, Simon,” your beautiful eyes now shining with happy tears, “so, so much.” 

“I love you too.” His protective instincts fully resurfacing, overriding his initial fear. He pulls you into a tender embrace, holding you tightly against his chest. “And I already love our kid too,” he adds, as he squeezes you a little tighter, protectively holding you in his strong arms. You and the child you’re barring, his child.      

His own father had fucked him up so severely, taken so much from him, but this is not something his father will be able to take. As terrified and scared as he might be Simon knows, in this moment with you in his arms, that he will do everything to not become his father and that he will do anything to keep you and your unborn child safe, that he will make sure that they will grow up to know nothing but love and security and that he will do everything in his power to make sure that you never are gonna regret having him as the father of your child.      

Simon's heart swells with a newfound determination. He knows it won't be easy, that there will be challenges and sacrifices along the way, but he is ready to face them head-on. He has spent years battling his demons and overcoming his past, and now he has a reason to fight even harder - for you, for his family.

Price ♡

As you sit across from John in your usually so cosy living room, you can't help but notice the nervous energy radiating from him. You’ve noticed a change in your husband's behaviour lately, and it's left you feeling puzzled and a bit concerned. John’s been acting distant, withdrawn and  you can't help but worry that something might be wrong with him, that there might be something he isn’t telling you which is so out of character for him.

Unable to bear the uncertainty any longer you take in a deep breath, you have been gathering up the courage all day to confront him. 

“Jonathan?” You say, voice close to a whisper, but still strong enough to be heard clearly. He removes his eyes from his book, in which he has been staring down into for the last thirty minutes without turning a page, seemingly without reading a single word.  “Is everything okay? You seem different lately, and it’s been making me worried. Can you please tell me what’s going on?” 

His gaze shifts between you and the floor. Sensing that something important is about to be revealed, you lean in closer, waiting for him to speak. 

John hesitates for a moment, his eyes filled with a mix of emotions. “I'm sorry for acting distant. It's just that... I've been feeling nervous about something important, and I didn't know how to bring it up."

Your heart races as you anxiously wait for him to continue. "What is it?" you ask, a mixture of anticipation and concern in your voice.

“Darling,” he begins, his voice filled with both excitement and trepidation. He takes a deep breath, gathering his thoughts before continuing. “I've been thinking a lot lately, about our future, about the life we’ve built together."

Your heart skips a beat, you feel a little pang of fear in your chest but you’re also curious to know where he’s going with this. “What is it, John?” you ask, your voice filled with anticipation.

“love, I think I want to try for a baby.”

The words hang in the air for a moment, and your mind races to process the magnitude of what he's just said. A rush of emotions floods through you – surprise, joy, and a hint of uncertainty. You’ve dreamt of having a family with John, but the thought of bringing a child into the world amidst the challenges and uncertainties of his military career has always given you pause.

You take a moment to collect your thoughts, reaching out to hold his hand for support. "John, I…" you begin, your voice filled with a mix of emotions. "I've always imagined us having a family, but I worry about the dangers you face, the time we'd have to spend apart."

John's grip on your hand tightens, his eyes filled with determination. "I understand your concerns, darling, and they are valid. But we've faced countless challenges together, and we’ve  always persevered. I believe we can navigate this journey too."

His words resonate deep within you, reminding you of the strength and resilience you both possess. You find yourself nodding, a smile tugging at your lips. “You're right, John. We have overcome so much, and I believe we can face this too.”

The relief and joy that washes over John’s face is palpable. He pulls you into a warm embrace, holding you tightly as if never wanting to let go. “Thank you, darling,” he whispers, his voice filled with gratitude. “I promise, I'll do everything in my power to protect our family, to be there for you and our future child.”

In this moment, as you hold each other tightly, you realise that together, you can face anything that comes your way. The journey ahead will be filled with uncertainties, but with love as your anchor, you know that you and John are ready to embark on this new adventure – the adventure of parenthood, embracing the joys and challenges that lie ahead, hand in hand.

Together, you begin to discuss your hopes, dreams, and plans for the future. And as the evening unfolds, you find solace in the knowledge that love, support, and a shared vision will guide you through whatever lies ahead on this new and exciting path.

Gaz ♡

You wake up to the sound of your alarm blaring in your ears. Groggily, you reach over to turn it off, but as you do, you feel a sense of excitement bubbling within you. Today is the day Kyle is coming home from deployment for a short visit. It has been months since you last saw him, and the anticipation of seeing him again fills you with a mix of nervousness and pure joy.

You get ready quickly, making sure everything is perfect for his arrival. The butterflies in your stomach flutter wildly as you make your way to the airport. Finally, you spot Kyle standing amongst the sea of people, his eyes scanning the crowd. As soon as he sees you, a wide smile spreads across his handsome face, and you can't help but match his enthusiasm. You run towards each other, embracing tightly, cherishing this precious moment as you kiss each other deeply.

Over the next few days, you spend every moment together, catching up on all the missed conversations and stolen kisses. It feels like time has stood still, and the world revolves solely around the two of you. But one evening, as you're cuddled up on the couch, a casual conversation takes an unexpected turn.

Kyle's arm is wrapped around your shoulder, his voice low and comforting as he recounts some of the experiences he had while deployed. He talks about the sacrifices made and the hardships endured, his eyes filled with a mix of sadness and determination. In a moment of vulnerability, he accidentally says, "I hope our kids never have to go through any of that."

You freeze, the weight of his words hanging heavily in the air. The two of you have never discussed having children before, and the mention of it catches you off guard. mind races, trying to process his words. You turn to face him, searching his eyes for answers.

Kyle’s eyes widens with embarrassment as he realises what he just said. You can tell that he hadn’t meant to blurt out his thoughts so suddenly. He takes a deep breath, gathering his thoughts before he speaks. “I’m sorry, I've just been thinking a lot about thre future lately, you know, about what I want in life and all. And despite our age, despite everything going on, I can't help but imagine a family with you.” Kyle confesses,  reaching out, his hand gently caressing yours. “I don't want to rush anything. But I want you to know that I genuinely see a future with you. I can't imagine a life without you by my side.”

His honesty touches your heart, and you can’t help but smile, feeling a warmth spread throughout your body. You take his hand in yours, intertwining your fingers, the sudden image of a beautiful little baby with Kyle’s eyes looking up at you is filling your head, “Kyle, I honestly never imagined having this conversation now, but I can’t deny that the idea of starting a family with you is really tempting. We may be young, but if we’re together, I believe we can face anything.”

Kyle’s face lights up with relief and happiness. He pulls you closer, his embrace tighter than before. In that moment, you both realise that the love between you knows no limits, and that sometimes, life has a way of surprising you when you least expect it.

You know that this unexpected conversation has opened the door to a new chapter in your relationship, one that holds the promise of a beautiful future.

Soap ♡

You sink into the soft pillows with a content sigh, getting comfortable under the soft covers. You and Johnny had attended a family gathering at his parent’s house and now that you’re finally home and in bed you begin to reminisce about the day, recalling your favourite moments,  the cheerful atmosphere that had filled the air,  the delicious home cooked food and all the laughs and easy going conversations. 

But one conversation had taken you a little aback, a comment made by one of Johnny’s relatives had stuck with you. You know that it had been meant in good humour but it had weighed on you. You had tried to push it aside but now that you’re home the words keep ringing through your mind. You ponder over what had been said to you but you’re pulled out of your thoughts as the bedroom door creaks open. 

Johnny enters the room, a gentle smile on his face. In his hands, he holds a glass of cool, refreshing water. He knows you well, understands the little things that bring you comfort. A wider smile appears on his face as he approaches the bed and offers you the glass, his blue eyes filled with tenderness and care as he lets out a low laugh. “Can’t believe Rob’s having another boy!”  He gently shakes his head from side to side. You had learned earlier in the day that Johnny was having yet another nephew.  

You take the water from him, feeling the coolness of the glass against your palm as you smile up at him. The gesture touches your heart, a reminder of his thoughtfulness and love. Taking a sip of the water, you feel a sense of rejuvenation wash over you, as if his kindness has quenched not only your physical thirst but also your emotional weariness.

As you set the glass aside, Johnny slips into bed beside you, his presence a soothing balm to your soul. You snuggle closer to him, feeling the warmth of his body radiating against your skin. His touch is gentle, his embrace a source of comfort and security.

 “Yeah, seems like boys just run in the family.” You smile up at him.  

Johnny chuckles and jokingly comments, “You know, I think mam secretly hoped it would be a girl this time. I think she's secretly always wanted a wee girl to spoil since she only got sons.” 

“Well, Hannah seemed rather serious when she told me that this kid will be their last.” You chuckle as you recall the conversation you had had earlier with Johnny’s sister in law. But the topic also again makes you recall the comment said to you earlier by Johnny’s aunt. 

It had been amidst the cheerful atmosphere, when the news about Rob and Hannah expecting another boy had broken. The news seemed to ripple through the room, prompting everyone to offer their congratulations. You couldn't help but notice a sly smile from Johnny's aunt as she turned to you and said, "Well, now it's up to you and Johnny to bring a baby girl into the family!"

You had blinked from surprise, caught off guard by her comment. The weight of her words settled on your shoulders as you realised that the expectation for a future child had somehow fallen on you and Johnny. You had looked over at him, he was in the other end of the living room playing with his two young nephews. You couldn't help but feel an overwhelming sense of love and admiration for him by the sight of them. Seeing him interact with those little boys, his blue eyes twinkling with joy and his deep laughter filling the air. But you also felt very  put on the spot. "I... uh," you had stammered, searching for the right words. "We haven't really talked about all that yet."

Aunt Maggie chuckled softly, patting your arm. "Well, dear, there's no rush. But I'm sure everyone here would love to have a wee lass in the family someday and I’m sure you and Johnny would do a great job."

Her words had lingered in your mind for the rest of the day. You didn’t know if you should mention it to Johnny or not, you have no idea how he will react. But now as the two of you are in the secure atmosphere of your own bedroom you think that you might should. 

You take a deep breath, gathering the courage to bring up the topic that has been weighing on your mind all day. As you snuggle closer to Johnny, feeling the warmth of his embrace, you softly say, "Johnny, there's something I wanted to talk to you about."

He looks at you with concern in his eyes, sensing the seriousness of your tone. "What is it, love?" he asks gently, his fingers tracing soothing circles on your back.

You hesitate for a moment, unsure of how to begin. Finally, you gather your thoughts and speak from your heart. "It’s just… Maighread made a comment about us having a baby girl to balance out all the boys…” 

Johnny's eyes widen slightly, surprise evident on his face. He takes a moment to process your words

"Wait, she really said that?" Johnny's surprise is evident on his face as he takes a moment to process your words. He gently moves closer to you, his fingers still tracing soothing circles on your back. “I’m sorry if that made you uncomfortable, love. I guess my family has a tendency to be a little too brash sometimes.” He says in an apologetic tone.

“It’s okay, I love your family, it just caught me a little off guard I guess,” you assure him, placing your palm on his cheek, gently stoking your thumb over the rough stubbles of his beard. A long silence breaks out between you, both absorbing what had just been said between you.  

But Johnny finally breaks the silence. “It isn’t a terrible thought though," he whispers, his voice filled with a mixture of excitement, nerves and tenderness.

You pause for a moment, taking in Johnny's words, honesty and vulnerability shines from his eyes. 

“No, it isn’t,” you finally say, finally letting yourself imagine it without any sense of fear or doubt about what Johnny would think of it. The idea of him holding a little girl, makes a smile tug at the corner of your mouth, and you suddenly feel like you’re about to cry. Just earlier today the idea seemed scary to you since you and Johnny never have talked about children, but now as you look into his eyes, your smile mirrored on his face, you aren’t that scared anymore.  

“It’s actually a little weird that she said that, because earlier when I was playing with Noah and Oliver I couldn’t help but imagine us having a wean of our own… It’s actually something I’ve been thinking about for a while now..." 

Your heart skips a beat at his confession, the weight of his words sinking in. You can see the sincerity in his eyes, and a wave of emotions washes over you. “Really?” you ask softly, your voice filled with a mix of joy and curiosity. “You want a baby with me..?”

“Yeah, I really do, love," he says softly. 

"I think I would like that,” you say, your voice filled with sincerity. Johnny smiles, his eyes reflecting his love for you. 

You lean in and press a gentle kiss to his lips, feeling the connection between you deepen. In that moment, you both know that this conversation is just the beginning of a new chapter in your lives. It's a chapter filled with love, hope, and the possibility of bringing a new life into the world. As you both cuddle in the warmth of each other's embrace, you feel a sense of peace and excitement wash over you. The weight of Aunt Maggie's comment no longer lingers heavily on your shoulders. Instead, it's been replaced with the knowledge that you and Johnny are on the same page. 

With a renewed sense of love and purpose, you close your eyes and drift off to sleep, knowing that the future holds endless possibilities for you and Johnny, both as a couple and as future parents.

Part two

[thesilmarillionblog]

𝐖𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄 ── Part 2

Click here to read the first part.

Summary: In the hopes that things would improve between you, you choose to lose your virginity to your friend Dean Winchester because you have been in love with him madly for a long time. However, he doesn't feel the same about you.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x F!Reader

Warnings: +18! (Minors DNI),smut, unrequited love, angst, reader gets hurt, arguments, jealousy

Word Count: 5896

A/N: English is not my first language.

Dean hung out on the second floor with his new girlfriend while you and Sam watched TV. There were no audible voices. Well, you couldn't hear anything that far away, at least. You couldn't stop your mind from concentrating on them, even if you didn't want to. Your head hurt from the mix of the TV's sounds and the rain. Actually, the pain was in your soul.

You waited for regret to surface so you could condemn and despise yourself for opening yourself to Dean, your friend. But despite your best efforts, you were unable to sense remorse. You knew that you would do it again if you had a chance, taking back all that happened. How could you refuse him? You wished to memorize every moment of that night by being able to see every expression on his face. It was ridiculous that something so basic could no longer be made possible. The moments you spent with him are now only vague memories in your mind. All you could recall was the touch—his touch. It was still lingering on your skin. That would be enough.

It was clear to you from the way he laughed with her moments ago that the moment you had spent with him days before meant nothing. It was simply another hookup for Dean. Though you didn't think you'd reveal the truth from your side, you wondered what Sam would say about it. Sam was a good man, but you really weren't supposed to reveal to him that you slept with his brother since it would be too embarrassing. Additionally, you had given your virginity to his brother, whom you referred to as a "friend." There was no way you could tell him this.

You couldn't even recall the name of the show that was on TV. From time to time, Sam cracked up at the jokes. At least one person was feeling good. You looked at him attentively and observed that he had his attention on the show while he ate his popcorn.

He turned to face you, seeing your serious expression as he observed how you were reacting to the joke. In your arms, you held a pillow.

He said, “What's that look?”

“Seems like someone is enjoying, huh?”

“Why not? We all deserve a little relaxation after working so hard as hunters, don't you think?” He remarked, grinning, and turned down the TV. The instant the room was silent, you realized how much the noise had hurt your head. 

“Like your brother?” Compared to what you had anticipated, you sounded more serious. 

“Dean being Dean, you know.” Sam sighed and made a quick statement. Yes, you were aware of it. 

“How is your arm, by the way?” you said with a troubled look on your face. You've been feeling terrible for Sam because he kept you protected throughout the hunt and then ended up hurting himself. He was always considerate and cautious of you and Dean. It was in his nature. 

Sam smiled reassuringly and said, “It's fine. You know, things go wrong, and as long as you save the day, it's alright to get a little bit hurt.”

Stating, “I didn't want to get distracted that easily. I'm not sure what's wrong with me these days, but I promise I'll get better.” The claim that you were acting in this way without knowing why wasn't true. You were certainly aware of the exact cause of your growing distraction. 

If only Sam could read your mind and understand. Otherwise, there was no way for you to tell him straight what happened between you and Dean that night. You had any, yet deep down you needed to talk to someone. But you were very, really embarrassed. It's not like you were teens; you and Dean are grown ups. Reasonable ones, obviously. On the other hand, exposing your situation to him would be the same as declaring your love for him and would reveal your feelings for him.

“Really, Y/N, it's all right. What is done is done.” Sam looked at you, totally shutting off the TV. “Ignore what Dean said. You know how protective he is all the time. If you were the one who was harmed by me, he would say the same things. Though he may have come off as tougher, his intentions were good.”

"I'm afraid that's not true, Sammy. I mean, I know his intentions were good, of course, but I guess I touched his nerves this time for real.”

You attempted a smile, but it did not reach your lips before you realized Sam was trying to soothe you.

Sam replied awkwardly, “He cares way too much about the people he really cares about.” At these meaningless remarks, you both halted for a little period of time. “Well, it wasn't the best way to put it, but you get the idea. You might understand if you were raised by an older brother. He's not a bad person; there are just moments when I don't understand him.” 

“Of course not,” you cut him off right away. “You don't even have to say it. Don't get me wrong; I'm not saying anything negative about him. I would never.”

“I know, I know...” Sam spoke quickly. “Still, I'm simply advising you not to think too much about what he said previously, all right? We've been hunting for more than a year; it's not that he doesn't like you. Remember that a year ago, it was he who offered the invitation for you to join that team?”

You ultimately nodded as Sam attempted to convince you that Dean didn't mean to hurt you. 

“Yes,” you murmured to yourself. “Considering how often you two sustain injuries, a nurse would be beneficial. I wonder if Dean was looking for a nurse for himself and his little brother, or if he was looking for someone with hunting abilities.”

“Let's say you're just talented enough to take a part in that very humble team,” Sam laughed. “And you're being a nurse is just another plus.” 

You sighed and then gave him a genuine smile, saying, “Fine, if you say so.” You had finally been somewhat diverted from your thoughts about Dean and his girlfriend by a brief conversation with Sam. 

Curious, you said, “How about you and Ruby, by the way? It seems that you two have become a very good couple, haven't you?”

“We're looking for something…to work out. But it's okay for now,” Sam remarked hesitantly. You found it amusing that he was so forthright about everything else than relationships. 

“You seem to be very much in love.” Not knowing how to present the matter to Dean without taking any suspicion, you offered an innocent glance to Sam. Sam was smart in every other way. Sometimes he observed and gazed at people as though he could see right through them. 

“She's like no one I've ever met,” Sam said timidly. “I think it will take some more time to work it out, but it's fine so far.”

“I'm glad to hear that.”

“How about you?”

You hesitantly replied, “What?” as he sent you one of his suspicious stares. 

“I've been thinking about lately and come to know... that it has been a year and I didn't even see you with anyone. That seems a little odd, don't you think?” Sam arched an eyebrow. “Are you not seeing anyone, or are you keeping it as a secret or something?”

You shifted on the seat and hugged the pillow against your arms a bit extra to help you unwind. In the end, he knew nothing about Dean or you. There was no reason to be anxious. It was only chitchat. 

“No, of course not!” You stopped him off before he started asking his questions. “It isn't... I'm not interested in anyone right now.”

“Really?” With a look of suspicion, Sam inquired. “We met other men throughout the cases, and they seemed to be interested in you. How can you tell whether you're interested in one of them if you don't give it a shot?”

“Sam, I don't like hookups. Something like that is not what I want.” However, you've turned into Dean's one hookup. The thought briefly ripped through your soul, given how little you've been talking recently, as if there were an unambiguous wall between you that you could not break down no matter how hard you tried.

“That's not what I'm saying. I'm just trying to get the point that you should give people a chance to win you over. How in the world would you know if you liked someone or not without that?”

“I don't want to,” you interrupted, concentrating solely on Dean. It would be simpler to get Sam to understand you if you could tell him how you feel about Dean. 

Sam groaned and said, “Fine. It was just an advice.” 

“I know, thanks,” you responded, putting on a timid grin. “Will you continue to watch TV for a while? It's growing late.”

Sam said, “I think I will,” as he looked at his watch. “Are you leaving?” 

You said quietly, “Yeah,” as you peered out the window to see the weather. It was pouring. You would have hated sunny days even more if you had gotten intimate with Dean on a sunny day. Rainy weather used to be something you enjoyed, but now it just hurt.

“I think it's better if you stay though,” Sam said, taking a deep breath and using one of his fingers to show you the pouring rain. “You're not the best driver.”

With a harsh tone, you said, suddenly tossing the pillow over his face. “Did you just insult me?”

“That's not insulting,” Sam shot it back at you. “I'm just saying that you're no Hamilton.”

You said, “You have no idea,” and you couldn't help but smile as you recalled the day Dean forbade you from driving on rainy days after you nearly had an accident. Dean continued to get anxious when it started to rain while you were driving because of that day. His Baby was more important than anything. 

“Will you be watching TV or?” Taking back the remote control, Sam asked. 

“No, thanks; enjoy yourself.” Setting the pillow down next to the coach and stretching your arms, you yawned. 

You couldn't help but notice the agonizing heavy feeling in your chest as it began to flare up again like tiny needles as you made your way upstairs. Even though you didn't want to hear anything, you were listening for any sounds coming from Dean's room. As you passed, your movements almost seemed to slow down, but you quickly realized what was going on, and you entered the dark room where you would be spending the night, as if your brain didn't want to hear anything.

You had been repeatedly asked to leave the same house by Dean and Sam and start to live with them, but for whatever reason you were unaware of, you had refused. If they repeated the offer, you would most likely take it immediately. God, even if you just lived in the same house, you would probably fall even more in love with Dean. During hunts, it was even sufficient to see him for a few hours. Your heart ached to think about his face, his grin, and every joke he ever told.

Has the night some weeks ago caused you to ruin what you had? You didn't feel any regret, but as you noticed that Dean was becoming more aloof, regret started to consume you.

You'd just gotten out of the shower when your hands found one of Dean's t-shirts. You desired to wear it like you had some weeks prior. Back then, it wasn't a big deal; instead of complaining, he would just make jokes about how little and amusing you looked in them. But things were different today, and you knew it wouldn't be proper to wear it while he had a girlfriend.

If he truly had affections for someone, you didn't want to spoil things for him.

They laughed a little too loudly as you lay down on the bed and pressed his t-shirt against your chest as if it would bring him further closer. Dean's laughter mixed with Jo's. You tried, devastated, to focus on the soothing sounds of the falling rain and on the absurd or hazardous situations that had transpired during the hunts. It was useless. 

That was the moment you became aware of how really alone you were. Perhaps Sam was correct about telling you to pursue a romantic connection. However, how could it be possible when you were already deeply in love with someone? Anytime Dean was around, your heart felt like it was going to explode. You had no idea how to handle things like that. 

You set his shirt down and let it fall to the ground, acting as if doing so could shield you from the overwhelming feelings that Dean had given you. God, how could you possibly let go of your feelings for him when you couldn't even let go of a single piece of fabric with ease? 

You were so miserable and pathetic that you were unable to stop crying this time. You dreamed of something you could never have as the tears flowed down your cheeks and onto the bed. You will always cherish the beautiful memory the night gave you, but at what cost?

You were sobbing, but you weren't sure if it was from the noises Dean and Jo were making or from the dreams that could only have come true in your head. 

Your impulse to pick up Dean's t-shirt from the floor gradually vanished as your tears dropped to the bed and the pain consumed your entire being. Until today, you had no idea how much you actually loved him. 

“What happened?” With a big smile on her face, Jo placed her fingers around Dean's face and inquired in between laughter. She teased this thick neck with a quick, playful kiss. On his lap, she became still. 

Dean's fingers raised her skirt and were ready to push her underwear aside. Jo continued moving on Dean's lap, making herself wetter by rubbing herself over Dean's boxer, her hands lingering on his wide and bare chest with desire. 

“Nothing,” a rough-voiced Dean said. From the room where you were staying, he thought he heard something. He had heard you took the upstairs before he'd gone to the bathroom. You most likely made the decision to stay since it was pouring rain outside. You definitely didn't know how to drive in such conditions. He shuddered, remembering when you nearly crushed his baby and sent it to his sweet vehicle burial. 

Jo touched Dean's naked chest and paused her palm at his abs, saying, “You seem to be like thinking something else.”

“I wasn't,” Dean lied. It was not significant at all, so there was no need to provide details.

“I was just thinking though,” Jo said, attempting to find the right words to say. 

“About?”

“I think we'd be a great team, you know.” With a sly smile, Jo continued to stroke Dean's abs with the tips of her fingers. “As you are aware, Sam, you, and I would make an excellent team since we are now somewhat of a family, since I am also a hunter. Do you not think?”

Dean moved slightly on the bed, thinking of you, irritated at Jo's disregard for you, as if the details weren't even important. You were a member of the team. He was the one who initially made the offer to you in fact. Besides, they weren't even paired up. He said nothing about it so as not to hurt her feelings or make her feel humiliated if she brought it up. 

“How about Y/N?” In an attempt to lighten the mood and soften the air, Dean attempted to smile at her, but his smile did not reach his lips.

“She's a nurse,” Jo said, as if it were an insult. Dean felt uncomfortable and uneasy because Jo was attempting to push out the details of what she truly wanted to say about you. Despite her best efforts to seem polite, she came out as cunning and bitter. That was something Dean did not appreciate. 

“So?” Dean arched an eyebrow in questioning. “She is the only one still alive due to the terrible things that went wrong; her family was full of hunters just like ours. She doesn't even need to, yet she still has passion. That's very encouraging, in my opinion. I mean, continuing to work in the family business while also doing her professional job responsibilities. That requires guts.”

“Are you defending her?”

“I am,” Dean said in a firm and harsh manner. Jo was still on top of him, trying to get him to say nasty things about you, and he didn't enjoy her attempts at distracting him with handiwork. Dean felt unease and a strong sense of aggressiveness.

He never explicitly expressed his admiration for you for persevering through everything and for having the guts to face your fears. Jo recognized how much he genuinely admired you in his heart when he explained how excellent you were at what you did. Even though you occasionally were easily sidetracked, you were a professional.

Jo sighed, but she didn't give a damn about Dean's opinion of you. In the end, you posed no threat. For nothing at all. 

“I don't think your dad raised you and Sam for doing some charity to the orphan hunters and helping them to find a belonging,” Jo said. Although she made an effort not to seem cruel, it was the reality for her. “I am aware of the danger she took for Sam when you all were hunting last time. It is a weakness to be easily sidetracked in this.”

Dean's eyes grew enraged as Jo carried on speaking in a sinuous manner. She was aware of his dislike of others discussing the persons they cared about in this way. Particularly about the people he respected and gave enough thought to. 

Dean whispered, “Jo,” but it seemed more like he was threatening her. “Stop this fucking nonsense now. I'm serious.” 

“Do you have a soft spot for her or something?” Jo inquired once again. She also bit her lips invitingly while gently raising her skirt to reveal her pussy to Dean's gaze in an attempt to divert his focus elsewhere.

Her eyes were full of promise. In particular, Dean found it amusing when ladies looked at him with such passion. 

Dean immediately felt a sense of relaxation as his hands moved to her hips. He sighed and refused to answer. “Are we just going to talk?” he asked. She began removing her clothes rapidly while he licked his lips and observed. 

“Hopefully not,” Jo laughed in response. She was relieved that she and Dean had stopped talking about you. “Let our bodies talk in their very own, divine language.”

Dean switched the positions before she could say anything more. Now that he was on top of Jo, he was urgently kissing her while his mind was racing with ideas he wanted to put down for the night. 

Dean roughly spread Jo's legs wider and pulled her underwear aside, freeing himself from his boxer. With a single forceful shove that caused them both to moan loudly, he gave his firm cock a few strokes and pushed himself in Jo beforehand. That was an excellent way to get some real comfort now. 

Jo hadn't kept it low at all, so Dean put his hands on her mouth to silence her, causing her to sigh into his hands without intending to wake anyone. He picked up his speed and began to push into her rough and fast enough to satisfy both of them, knowing that she enjoyed being fucked raw and fast and that Dean also wanted to find his release. 

While he continued to fuck her, Dean warned her to "keep it low," suppressing his own groans.

She was, however, loudly groaning in Dean's hands, locking her legs around his hips, matching his speed as she raised her hips, as if she wanted everyone to know that she was getting fucked by Dean. Dean warned her to turn down the volume once more, but it didn't help.

In an attempt to find his release, Dean thrust into her more quickly, giving the impression that he was being forced to come—as if this were a mission or one of his hunts. He was striving to find his pleasure when he felt nervousness take over his body. He wasn't accustomed to feeling this way, especially around women.

His other hand tightened on Jo's tits, and he ran his fingers through her ass to help himself. His movements were forceful and impatient. All he wanted was for her to be somewhat silent so that he could focus more easily. It wasn't like Dean liked to be all crazy harsh on ladies or anything; he just needed to experience the closeness of a true, sincere touch, which was difficult to find at the moment.

He was on the verge of getting there, but he was unable to seize the ideal moment of pleasure and find relief.

Though it wasn't appropriate to think about it right now, Dean's thoughts began to form around the moment he and you had shared weeks earlier as he continued to stroke his hardness into Jo's warm pussy while muttering under his breath. It was as though his body had a mind of its own and knew when it was best for him to get what he was looking for.

His thoughts were hopelessly consumed by the sensation of your tightness and those moments of adorable small sounds that you attempted to hide from him. Dean attempted to concentrate on the woman who he was actually fucking into, not feeling proud of how he thought about you while he fucked Jo into the covers. Thinking about how he fucked you wasn't fair to no one at all. But his own body, which was attempting to steal what it desired by using Jo's body, was not under his control.

Him fucking Jo was becoming a battle between Dean's body and mind. Pleasure and reason; soul and mind.

Jo began to quiver instead of groan loudly, and as Dean withdrew his fingers from her lips, she cried out, “Will you come inside?” 

Dean instantly said, “No,” realizing that he hadn't been wearing a condom throughout his frantic sex with her. “Stay still.”

With a hint of rage, Dean sank his fingers into Jo's flesh and his head into her sweating neck, fiercely shutting his eyes. He was going insane as he struggled with his own thoughts, which were attempting to recall every little detail about your body and how you responded and tightened around his member. He didn't want to go back in time mentally and get pleasure thinking about the night with you while he was inside someone else. It wasn't fair for any. 

It was just an impulse decision made in the heat of the moment. Still, Dean's mind continued seeing the body underneath him to be yours, making him picture every single detail of how he took you and how you immediately clenched around him the moment he entered you. He was taken aback by how tight you were; you were like anyone he had ever fucked. 

As the fantasies overtook his thoughts, Dean became aware of his surroundings as Jo began to speak dirty to him, telling him how much she enjoyed it when he gave her such an aggressive fuck. Dean wasn't aware of himself till now that he started to fuck into her pussy quicker and harder.

Dean's body tensed as his eyes opened. He was pushing his cock in and out of Jo without intending to get off as he thought about you. He was a little caught by what had transpired in a split second. 

Jo gasped and said, “Why did you stop?” To regain his attention, she raised her hips higher. 

“Nothing,” Dean said, losing his temper and collapsing to his side as he felt his cock gradually soften. 

Jo was bewildered, but she became enraged when Dean abruptly quit fucking her and left her feeling unsatisfied. 

She sighed and said, “You want me to get on top?” although she sounded more like she was frustrated. 

“No.”

“What the hell is your problem?” she said, nailing Dean's chest. “Come on-”

“I said, 'no.' Alright?” In an attempt to disassociate himself from Jo, Dean stated. Even though he knew it was just about him, he tried to keep his cool down despite feeling like rage was taking him.

When she realized Dean wasn't in the mood and was most likely experiencing some sort of dysfunctional erection, she simply remarked, “Anyways,” without caring about it at all. “I promised to go out with some friends tonight, you know,” she said, putting on her clothes again.

“Alright. It's pouring outside though.”

“Yeah, and?”

With a sigh, Dean said, “Nevermind,” understanding that you were the only on who found driving in such weather difficult.

Dean quickly showered right after Jo departed the house, then jerked off just after he entered the bathroom. Even if things started to seem strange with Jo, his body still wanted some release to ease the tension. He was horny and furious at the same time. Though he was a man of action and he wasn't the biggest fan of taking himself in hand in the shower like a teenager, it worked this time. It felt good enough.

Dean gasped in frustration, picturing your gentle touches and the way he felt within you while he fucked Jo and how he thought about you while. The easiest way for him to regain control of his body was to stop. That was all—him and you were simply pals who took pleasure from each other for one night. You were lovely, so it wasn't that he wouldn't want to fuck you again, but it would just be weird. That was not Dean's type of thing. 

With one arm folded behind his head, Dean lay on the bed and tried not to think too much. Perhaps he was simply too exhausted.

Even though you were exhausted, your body woke up in the middle of the night due to a headache and a dry throat. You walked silently downstairs to the kitchen so as not to wake Sam, Dean, or his girlfriend. 

You cursed yourself for being so emotional and sensitive, crying your eyes out till you went to sleep. Perhaps you were about to have your monthly period very soon. You were forced to put on your headphones by Dean and his companion in order to block out the noises they created all night.

What a waste, you thought. Believing that once you committed yourself to Dean, things would improve between you two. The situation became worse because of it. There was now such a strong and lengthy barrier between you that, despite your best attempts to remain composed, you were unable to climb it at all without being exhausted. If you were more courageous than this, you would have let everything pass by, turned your back to the team, and concentrated on your actual work. 

After turning on the light and rubbing your swollen eyes, you sipped your water and sat down next to the window. You couldn't even get enough sleep, and you had to work all day. You required a long vacation. 

As soon as you placed the glass down on the kitchen sink, you turned around and saw Dean staring back at you. He was half nude, wearing just sweatpants; his broad chest was all naked. You jumped and gasped in fear because you didn't hear him approaching. 

Dean seemed a little confused for a moment when he saw your ruined hair and swollen eyes, but he said nothing. 

He stated, “You're so jumpy,” in a low voice as if another person may hear them. 

You paused in front of Dean and said, "I didn't hear you coming," but all you did was stand there and remain still, your heart racing. 

Ignoring him and returning to your room was difficult. Though your soul ached and yearned for more time with him, your mind knew that nothing would happen between you.

“Why are you still awake?”

You suddenly snapped, “Why are you questioning me?” but then you added, “I was thirsty.”

He said, “It makes us two,” and grabbed a glass of water for himself.

Can't help but notice how you looked, he remarked, “Your eyes appear somewhat swollen.” He couldn't help making a comment this time, a sense of concern overwhelming him.

Trying to sound convincing enough, you said in a hushed voice, “I just woke up. Couldn’t sleep properly.”

“You're going to work tomorrow, aren't you?” Dean inquired as if attempting to strike up a conversation after such a lengthy period. You haven't been speaking properly recently for the obvious reason. 

You answered, “Um, yeah,” and lightly stroked your hand to see whether it hurt. It no longer did. Thank goodness you weren't seriously injured. You've also taken plenty of time off from work. It would be best if you started working right away to take your mind off of Dean and all that was going on. There was a lot to take in. 

“But can you work though? Is your hand okay, by the way?”

“Yes, I suppose there's nothing to worry about. It's stopped hurting. Actually, I missed my job. It's been too long since I took a break.”

You took a deep breath and went to head back to your room, saying a quiet, "Good night," but Dean stopped you by grasping your arm after he finished his drink. “Wait,” he quietly whispered. 

He released his hold on you and gently caressed your skin in an attempt to apologize for being a little too harsh on you. You turned to face him, perplexed. “Yes?” you said as you awaited his next words. 

He seemed unable to find the right words to say, so he said, “Whatever happened during the hunting... It wasn't just your fault.” The moment he brought that case back, your heart pounded. 

You took a deep breath to keep yourself from being upset as you thought back to what he had said to you, his hurtful remarks, and how annoyed Dean was as a result of your distraction. 

You managed to stutter, “It's okay,” and try to smile sympathetically at him. “You are right in every way. I should have exercised more caution. After all, he's your brother.”

“No, I'm not right about everything.” Dean took a deep breath and held your still-healing hand. “I was responsible as much as you were. After all, I am the team's oldest member.” He attempted to lighten the situation with a smile, but for some reason neither of you felt like it. 

Dead had told you, just to your face, that Sam was extremely important to him, as if you had someone in your life to worry about. He hated himself for not being more compassionate after realizing he was simply being harsh.

“It was just... in the heat of the moment,” Dean made an effort to explain his behavior. But the way your eyes met, it seemed like he meant something very different.

“I know."

“I only wanted you to be more cautious; I didn't want to hurt you.” He looked into your reddened eyes and added, “Not just for me or Sam, but especially for your own good,” with such genuineness that it seemed he could see what a wreck you were on the inside. How messy you were.

“You did not hurt me at all. I will proceed with greater caution, as I had said previously.” You let his hands lightly brush across yours. Your heart had melted at such a simple, one-time gesture. Though you knew you couldn't, your body was aching to get closer to him. 

He finally released your hand after a little while. However, if he hadn't taken it in the first place, it would have hurt less. 

You hoped with all of your heart that this moment in the kitchen with Dean had gone differently. You wanted to be closer, cuddling, laughing, or doing anything else that would be tender and intimate. But you two were farther apart than before. Your eyes would have said everything about how much you wanted him if they could communicate.

“I honestly didn't intend any of the things I said to you before or later. I want you to understand this.”

“I do, Dean.”

Dean said, “I know things are a little awkward between us, but I don't want it to be like this,” before you could say anything more. “I hope that you continue to feel at ease with me. I suppose we haven't discussed it appropriately so far about this.”

Your cheeks suddenly flushed scarlet at the mention of your circumstance, and fear shot through your veins “It's really okay,” you nodded to him and replied in a hurry. “Everything's alright.” 

You felt burdened with the thought that he could be concerned that you might tell Jo. Should that be his worry, you might reassure and soothe him. In a whisper, you said, “I wouldn't...tell Jo.” 

Dean opened his mouth to say something, then scowled instead. His expression showed signs of uncertainty. Given how often they had been hooking up only, he wasn't really sure if he and Jo were a thing at all. 

He felt a little guilty as well as responsible for initiating the kiss that night since he was aware it was him. 

“You know, I don't want you to feel awkward. Don't let anything go to waste or let this ruin what we have.”

Your heart raced with hopelessness again as Dean blatantly said that he wanted nothing to change and that you should move on from the past. At this point, you couldn't tell if he was genuinely unaware of your emotions. It was better if he hadn't even opened his mouth in the first place and stayed silent. 

Since you believed you were trying your best to keep things calm between you and him and maintain whatever relationship you had with him, you wanted to ask him if there was anything you could have done to make him feel that way about you or did you make him feel uncomfortable around you. It wasn't like you were still holding out hope. You were not anticipating this any longer.

Despite his repeated promises not to hurt you, he continued to do so without even realizing it.

You nodded to him quickly and answered, “Of course, I don't want this either,” with a heavy heart. “I would not want to ruin.”

You gave him a little smile and a mumble of "good night," then turned back toward your room. You would have found the strength to cry a little bit more if your eyes weren't sore from crying so much hours before. But at that moment, all you wanted to do was sleep, without really considering anything.

Next Chapter

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A/N: Please, let me know what you think about this one. Comments and reblogs are very appreciated! ^^

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[letsgoletsgetit08]

soft hours pt. 1 - christmas

how they would celebrate christmas with you (plus a suprise they have trouble keeping secret)

hyung line

warnings: mdni, christmas fluff, smut

pairings: park seonghwa x f!reader, kim hongjoong x f!reader, jeong yunho x f!reader, kang yeosang x f!reader

word count: 3.4k

author's note: I picture this as slightly aged up members and their significant others, still famous and working in the industry but with solo careers (hence the ability to take actual time off for themselves). But I did try to keep that part vague. I'm not religious but I grew up with Christmas, but feel free to sub in whatever winter holiday tickles your fancy. Maknae line coming soon!

likes, comments, and reblogs always welcome as long as you're not a minor!

Park Seonghwa: Park Seonghwa loves Christmas and even moreso, winter. He has gifts and activities planned every day of December leading up to Christmas Day. He takes you ice skating, sledding, to have your picture made with Santa - even though you're both definitely too old, and yes, some of the gifts are small, like your favorite candy, some are tokens to use for quality time with him, he’s a big fan of an advent calendar. But some of the gifts, the ones closer and on Christmas proper, are very nice. Matching bracelets with both of your birthstones, a purse you had your eye on that you mentioned in passing earlier that year.

The gifts are wonderful but your favorite part is the quality time you get to spend with him. Christmas Eve is spent in the matching pajamas he gifted you, White Christmas playing in the background while the two of you assemble the Lego set you gifted him a day early, sipping on spiked apple cider and taking breaks for long, tender make out sessions and short bursts of aggressive kisses and cuddle attacks.

You take a break from building the set to read your book, curled up behind him on the couch, and when you inevitably nod off, he only pouts for a minute when you don't reply to his excitement about finishing an elaborate section of the Lego set, turning to see you with your chin to your chest, book slipping out of your hand.

You stir only when he's kissing your forehead and urging you to go brush your teeth because, “You always regret it when you don't, my little rein-dear”. He looks at you expectantly when he makes the pun and you try not to laugh at his stupid joke but you can't help it when he's cheesing in anticipation. He stares at you for a while as you fall asleep next to him in bed, watching your eyelashes flutter, resisting the urge to keep kissing your cheeks, lest he disturb you. He's too excited for the morning to fall asleep fast, but watching you is a treat.

He's up at the crack of dawn with anticipation and resists waking you up for as long as he can until eventually, he caves, situating himself between your legs, pulling down your underwear and taking his sweet time as he eats you out, his mouth gentle and languid as he eases you into consciousness. It's one of your favorite ways to wake up and he saves it for special occasions. By the time you're fully awake, you're a whiny mess, begging for him until he gives in, too excited to start the day to make this one of his longer sessions. 

“Merry Christmas to me.” You joke sleepily as he pushes inside of you slowly. 

“Mmh your pussy is the best gift I could have asked for.” He replies as he bottoms out. 

It doesn't take long for either of you to finish, and it takes every fiber in his being to not dash out of the room immediately to go get coffee started and watch you open your final gift, but he exercises some self control, cuddling you and helping you back into your pants. You giggle at his urgency. 

His last present is an envelope containing a hand-written love letter and two plane tickets for a weekend together over New Years on Jeju Island. He's just glad you’ve yet to find the ring he's had hidden in his closet for three months now. He plans to propose as the clock strikes twelve into the new year. 

Kim Hongjoong: Hongjoong is oddly withholding, nervous, and antsy around two weeks before Christmas when you assume your gift got delivered. He's bad about spending way too much on you, despite swearing up and down that it's, “Just something small!” Fortunately for you, you can tell when he's lying because his eyes go shifty and he gets cagey and jumpy. He feels bad he can't spend as much time with you as he'd like around the holidays but when you bring him coffee to his studio on Christmas Eve, he surprises you with a song he's working on about how he'd like to spend the holidays with you. 

“My mind kept drifting to you while I was trying to work on something else so I had to get this out of my system before I could keep working on something else. It's kinda cheesy but-”

“Joongie, no.” You pull him in for a kiss, laughing at his dumbfounded face, “It's perfect, baby. You know, I would be perfectly happy if this was the only thing you got me for Christmas.” 

“Baby! No way.” He pulls you into his lap on the couch in his studio, “You're far too special to me for that. Plus, I really think you're going to love what I got you.”

“What did you get me!?” You try to catch him off guard. 

“I-” He almost fell for it, “Hey! I'm not telling.” He starts to tickle you as punishment, ending with the two of you nose to nose, limbs tangled, horizontal on the couch. 

“Can you give me one gift early then?” You let your hands wander between his thighs, sticking your bottom lip out and widening your eyes, knowing he has a hard time saying no when you pout and plead. 

“You’re going to end up keeping me here all night.” He pretends to resist, but he was already kissing down the column of your neck and reaching for the hem of your shirt. 

“Please, Joong.” You didn't know which thing you were pleading for at that point as he derobed you and worked you open with his fingers before taking you right there in his studio, both of you glad for the sound proof room. 

You convince him later to give his work a rest for the night and come home to sleep in a real bed. The next morning, you wake to him sitting by you on the bed, meticulously wrapped gift in his hands, nearly bouncing with anticipation. 

“Baby-” You blink your eyes open, knowing you look a hot mess from your slumber. 

“Merry Christmas!” He shoves the gift in your hands. 

You unwrap it painstakingly slowly just to watch him vibrate on the spot in his excitement. 

It's a beautiful custom winter coat from Balmain, lined with silk that has Hongjoong’s “No1LikeMe” printed on it, exactly in your style and you can tell even before trying it on that it will fit perfectly.

“So this is why you needed my measurements in March. Not because you would lose a bet with Wooyoung.” You laughed at his silly excuse. 

“Yeah, yeah, you caught me but DOYOULIKEIT?!” His words rushed out as you tackled him to the bed. 

“Kim Hongjoong. I love it.” You pepper his face with kisses, “Please never tell me how much you spent on this.” 

He knew this commentary was coming because he gave you a smarmy grin, “Actually! This was a personal favor. It's one of a kind. Olivier refused to let me pay a dime because, ‘Your girl keeps you fed and for that I owe her.’ His words.” 

“Ask me from my childhood if I ever thought I'd have personal favor with a designer from a high end brand and I'd laugh in your face.” You shook your head as you checked yourself out in the mirror. 

“Thank you so much, baby.” You cage him in on the bed. 

“Wait, wait. Check the breast pocket before you seduce me again.” He says this a bit breathless and you think you might kill him if he proposes to you while you wear one of his old t-shirts, your Christmas underwear, and the coat he just gifted you. Not to mention you still had bed hair and morning breath. 

Kill or kiss, they were only two letters different, and you ended up choosing the second as you stared at the ring of your dreams in your hand. 

“Hongjoong-” You were at a loss for words. 

“Please marry me, my love. My life won't be complete until you agree to be bound to me spoiling you and surprising you by the law.” 

“Yes!” You kiss him, still in disbelief, “Yes, Hongjoong. Of course I'll marry you.”

You shimmy his pants down enough to free him and move your underwear to the side, too excited to do more, and take him in one go, making love to him wearing both of his gifts. 

“This is embarrassing but I got you the exact same things.” You joke as the two of you cuddle.

“Oh, how embarrassing!” Hongjoong jokes back. He's impossible to buy for, always getting himself what he needs as he discovers a need for it. 

He doesn't expect you to have put together a binder full of photocards for your final gift to him. You put together a collection of photos of the two of you and some of just yourself. Some naughty ones of just yourself. “I was tired of being the only one with the collection.” 

“It’s perfect,” He nuzzles his nose to yours, “My fiancé is a genius gift giver.” 

Jeong Yunho: The man loves the holidays and this year is certainly no exception. He's so excited because he's convinced your families to celebrate together on Christmas Eve. You're more than a little suspicious with his hushed phone calls and the guilty puppy face he makes when you ask who called and he has to make up a lie. Twelve days before Christmas he surprises you with your first gift, a pre-paid facial appointment. The other days follow suit with a massage, hair appointment, nail appointment, things of that nature, culminating with shoes, a dress, jewelry, and a very nice set of lingerie that he wants you to wear on Christmas. It's beyond obvious at that point, but you suspend your disbelief for his sake, knowing how excited he is for this moment. 

Christmas Eve with your combined families goes better than you imagined it would. The food was good, the wine and conversation flowed, and mass hadn't even lasted that long. He waits until everyone is playing charades in the living room, and he brings you up with him after pretending to read his word on the slip of paper, holding up 4 fingers to indicate it was a four-word answer. He scans the room with his eyes before taking your left hand in his own and getting down on one knee.

“Will you marry me?” You ask as if you're still playing the game. 

“You're too good at this game.” He kisses your hand and pulls the ring box out of his pocket, “Sweetheart, I'm convinced you were created just for me. Falling in love with you over these years has been the greatest joy of my life and I never want to stop. Will you please do me the honor of marrying me?” 

“Yunho…” Tears escape your eyes at his words, “I would love nothing more. Yes, baby.” 

He drops the ring box after removing the ring and slides it onto your finger before standing, picking you up, and twirling you around to the tune of the applause of both of your families. 

Later that night, he unwraps you like the gift he considers you to be, taking off the clothes he bought for you piece by piece before turning you into a panting mess on his mattress as he insists on getting you off with his hands and mouth twice before he finally pushes inside of you, guiding your legs back with careful hands until you're practically bent and half and he’s able to fuck you deep like you like it, the head of his cock kissing your cervix every few strokes. 

“Fuck, I love when you take me like this, honey. I can’t wait to fuck a baby into you.”

“God, yes, Yunho-” You groan as he hits your sweet spot over and over. “Give me a few years, but we can pretend in the meantime.” 

“Mmh, I like the sound of that,” He grunts from the effort, “Gonna fuck you so full.”

“Everyone will see I'm yours.” You're about to fall apart around him. 

“All. Mine.” He punctuates his words with thrusts, “All. Fucking. Mine. Forever. Fuck, baby, come with me.” 

“Yunho!” You cry out as you finish, your orgasm prolonged by the feeling of him pumping you full of his seed.

Truth be told, at least in the heat of the moment, you wouldn't have cared at all had he been able to get you pregnant right then. But you knew as you fell asleep in his arms, how peaceful it was with just the two of you, you would be glad you had a few years with him as yours alone before bringing a whole other human being into the mix.

Kang Yeosang: Yeosang was not necessarily a fan of the holidays before he met you, but he adores them now. More than anything, he adores watching you enjoy them. He buys you matching berets and thinks he's so slick booking the two of you a room at a ski lodge in Austria the week of Christmas. Neither of you intend to ski, but Vienna goes all out for the holiday and he wants to spend several snow days shopping, eating, and sightseeing with you. He buys you anything you show a slight interest in, despite your protests, but his real gift is tucked safely in his luggage at the lodge. 

Two days into your trip, the two of you are exhausted and decide to spend the day around the ski village rather than in the city. You find Yeosang staring at you with hearts in his eyes more than usual that day. Normally you would blush and tell him to stop, but today, you allowed it. After all, you were doing the same thing. 

“Oh! This looks fun!” He holds up a Sanrio puzzle he found in the kid section. “I know it's for kids but-”

“We're getting it.” You smiled at how his face lit up. He was so impossible to not just completely adore and fawn over at all times.

“What if we go back to our room, order room service, and open this bad boy up?” He asks you, conspiratorial glint in his eye.

“This is why I love you.” You kiss the apple of his cheek. He's had to train himself not to move so you can't reach him when you try to kiss his face, due to years of acting like he hated it when his friends would do it. 

“I love you more, angel.” He grabs your hand and leads you over to check out, calling a slightly mispronounced “Bitteschön!” over his shoulder to the woman working the cash register on the way out. 

After dinner, spiked hot chocolates in hand, fireplace roaring in the hearth, the two of you work on the puzzle in comfortable silence. As much as you love talking to Yeosang and would pay good money to live inside his brain for a day, you cherish the fact that the two of you can have such peace in one another’s company. No compulsion to disturb the stillness. 

“Oh!” Yeosang looked up after a while, “Look, jagi. It's snowing!” 

“Really?!” You loved the snow. Well, you loved looking at the snow. 

“I wish it could snow inside. But not be cold.” Yeosang stood, pulling you to your feet and leading you over to the big bay window overlooking the powdery slopes.

“You know what? Yeah, that sounds ideal.” You chuckle, amused as ever at how his mind works. You tuck yourself under his arm and he picks up on your cue, pulling you securely to his side. 

Sure, it had been snowy the whole time you'd been there, but there was something magical about the big, fat flakes swirling in the air and glittering as they fell on the ground in the bright moonlight. 

“We'll probably be snowed in tomorrow.” Yeosang concludes as the two of you watch it accumulate, pulling you in front of himself so he could loop his arms around your waist and kiss the side of your neck.  

“I mean, we're at a ski resort-”

“Shh, babe. We're going to be snowed in tomorrow.” Yeosang says a little more firmly. 

You catch his drift, “Oh! Right. Yes. We'll definitely be snowed in tomorrow! Oh no! What will we do?” You humor him. 

“Don't worry, my beautiful girl, I'll make sure we're entertained all day while we're snowed in.” He mumbles in your ear, his voice low and carrying an unmistakable edge of desire on it.

“Mmh, like what?” You answer, breath hitching in your throat as his hands roam your body, one of them skimming the waistband of your pajama pants, the other finding a light but possessive position around your neck, “I can think of several things. But to start I'm going to fuck you against this window so we can watch the snow fall as I make you come over and over again on this cock.” 

“Fuck, Sangie-” You gasp as his hand blazes a trail to your core, knowing it will already be wet for him because he knows well what he does to you.

He's good to his word, dedicated as ever to your pleasure, stretching you around his girth, fingers on your clit as he makes you come the first time, heeding your request happily to move in front of the fire as you caught a chill with your bare face and nipples pressed to the cold window. 

He lays down one of the many plush blankets in front of the fireplace, ensuring you're comfortable before kissing down the slopes of your form, mouth landing between your legs, fingers taking over what his dick finished the first time, taking a more leisurely route to your release the second time, but quick to stuff you full again immediately afterwards for the third, words lost on both of you as pleasure rolls through your bodies in tandem. 

He washes your hair in the shower afterwards and you're nearly overwhelmed with love for the man you get to call yours. Perfect in every way. 

Both of you realize it's well past midnight as you cuddle together in bed, “Merry Christmas, precious.” Yeosang smiles at you, eyes once again full with a depth of love you had seen before but not as often as you had recently. 

“Merry Christmas, Sangie.” You return his gaze, hoping he knows just how much you mean it. 

“Marry me.” He blurts out, lost in your eyes, “Sorry, I had a whole thing planned and I have a ring, I swear-” 

You cut him off with a kiss, “Kang Yeosang.” You snicker, “Yes. God, yes, I'd be so happy to.” 

“Really?” He smiles so big it looks like it hurts his cheeks and it definitely hurts your heart with how pure and sweet he is. 

“Yes, baby, of course!” You kiss him again, unable to resist. 

The kiss deepens and your activities from earlier have an unprecedented encore, all but rendering your shower pointless as you fall apart repeatedly in one another's arms well into the early hours of the morning, watching the sunrise paint the ground pink, the exact shade, you note, of the birthmark by Yeosang’s eye. 

The two of you sleep late into the day. You're disoriented for a moment as Yeosang flies out of bed and begins rummaging through his luggage, finally finding what he sought and returning to bed with the ring box in hand. You had almost forgotten, or thought it was a dream, and you can't stop the tears as they fall when he fits the most beautiful ring you've ever seen onto your finger. 

“I'm yours. Forever. For as long as you'll have me, my love.” Yeosang’s deep voice rumbles through your bones, rearranging your neurotransmitter transporters to stop the reuptake of the norepinephrine, serotonin, and dopamine that was produced any time he spoke. 

“I want you forever, Yeosang.” 

And it was true. You were sure you were the happiest and luckiest person on earth to have earned the trust, love, and dedication of the man beside you. He felt the same way and he intended to show it to you every day for the rest of your life.

[pitchsidestories]

a blessing in disguise II Victoria Pelova x Codina!Reader

masterlist I word count: 3158

a/n: hi, we hope you enjoy the oneshot and that the time jumps aren't too confusing !

warning: her ACL injury is mentioned.

“Vic, can I ask you a favour? I know you had to return to London, so I was thinking.”, Laia begun nervously during their phone call.

“What?”, Victoria impatiently interrupted the Spanish defender. She had no time for the polite fussing around of her teammate. 

With a sigh the Dutch midfielder realized, she did have that, plenty of it since she had to be subbed of in the qualifying game in Finland because of the injury with three letters which every footballer hoped wouldn’t occur to her.

It did happen to her and immediately she felt bad for acting like this in front of a friend who has been kind ever since she joined the club.

“My cousin is coming to London for a visit. But she’s arriving early.”, Laia continued more rapidly.

“And you’re still in Spain with your national team.”, Victoria remarked. There she would prefer to be as well instead laying helplessly on the sofa without the comfort of Viv or Beth at her side who knew all too well what a horror the injury meant.

“Exactly and I can’t leave.”, the Spanish player added.

“She probably planned to stay at your place?”, the midfielder assumed.

“Yes, she did. But I forgot to leave the spare keys somewhere. Can she stay with you? It’s just for a few days.”, she asked her.

“Uhm, sure.”, Victoria replied.

“Thank you, I owe you.”, Laia responded gratefully.

“You’re welcome, that’s what teammates are for.”, the Dutch footballer smiled fondly, she was so thankfully for the team she played for and every person who was a part of it, her heart was full of warmth when the young woman thought of them.

“I’ll let my cousin know that she can stay with you.”, the defender answered in equal parts cheerful and relieved.

It didn’t take too long until someone rang her front door. Getting up with her injured knee was a challenge on its own, but hearing her ring once more, made Victoria curse under her breath:” Godverdomme!”

The midfielder almost regretted it once she saw the beaming face of Laia’s cousin. Because damn the university student was beautiful, Victoria thought to herself.

“Hola Victoria, nice to meet you, I’m y/n, Laia’s cousin, she told me so much about you already.”, you greeted her with a huge smile on your lips.

“Uhm, hi. Come on in.”, the Dutch player blushed while stepping aside so you could enter her home.

“Gracies.”, you muttered in Catalan.

“You’re welcome. You can sleep here.”, Victoria explained, showing you her guestroom which was beautiful and let a lot of light in when the sun shone.

“It’s pretty.  you commented, before taking a closer look at your host, rising worriedly an eyebrow at her, did you hurt your leg?”  Since you and your cousin Laia has always been very close you knew a lot about injured players and spotted one easily.

The dutch player scrunched her nose, obviously uncomfortable with the attention being shifted towards her injury.

“Oh… yeah, happened with the national team. That’s why I’m home while everyone else is in camp.“, she replied, the sadness resonating in her voice.

You immediately felt bad. But seeing her struggle to move around her own home gave you an idea.

“I’m so sorry to hear this. Did you have dinner yet?“, you asked innocently.

Victoria paused, surprised by the question: “Uhm… no.“

“Is there a supermarket nearby?“, you continued which seemingly only added to her confusion.

“There’s one down the street.“, Victoria said, pointing vaguely in the direction with her thumb.

You smiled at her: “I’ll cook something for you as a thank you for letting me stay here. That way you can rest your knee.“

“You don’t have to�� really.“, Victoria declined quickly.

You felt it was out of politeness so you shook your head: “No, it’s alright. Do you like paella?“

The football player considered you for a moment as if she was unsure what to make of this situation. But then the corners of her mouth quirked upwards and she shrugged: “You’re cooking so you get to decide what you want to make. I’m just here to eat.“

You grinned back at her: “Okay. I’m trying to be quick. But I might need your keys so you don’t have to get up again to let me back in later.“

“Here.“, Victoria produced a bunch of keys from the pocket of her sweatpants and handed them to you.

“Gr- Thanks.“, you corrected yourself before you could fall back into Spanish again.

You pocketed the keys and made your way to the supermarket alone.

It took you a while to find your way around. There was a lot of things to discover and it took you a while to find all the ingredients.

Carrying bags of groceries, you returned to Victorias place.

“I’m back.“, you announced yourself.

“I was just texting your cousin because I thought you’d ran off with my keys.“, Victoria called from the living room.

“Well, I can’t get far with just your keys, right?“, you answered while you paced the bags on the kitchen table and got to work.

As the football player limped over to watch you, you continued: “But this explains why Laia texted me that I should hurry up with grocery shopping. I just assumed a certain dutch woman got hungry and impatient while I was away.“

“I wasn’t impatient.“, she grimaced.

You laughed lightly, happy with the fact that you two got on so well that you already resorted to teasing each other.

“Uhu sure. Get ready to taste the best paella you’ve ever eaten.“, you smirked.

You could feel Victoria watch you with raised eyebrows: “You’re bragging too much.“

“Oh, you don’t believe me?“

“I believe you when you’re done cooking.“

“Go and try it.”, you nodded encouragingly after you cooked the paella, it’s delicious scent was filling the whole kitchen.

With closed eyes the Dutch woman took her first bite before admitting:” Oh wow, that’s actually pretty good.”

For her it tasted after vacation spent in Spain, when the day in the water was over and the sun was about to set, a cold Sangria on the table to drink alongside it.

Meanwhile the recipe for the paella had a special place in your heart as it was one passed from the women in your families to the next generation.

Meaning this meal reminded you of home, on weekends spend at the countryside. You missed this, but you knew that this adventure was worth the yearning.

“I told you so.”, you told her delighted.

“Yes, you were right.”, she sighed dramatically.

“I’m glad you liked it.”, you blushed.

“This is so good. I’m glad you made this huge pan full.”, Victoria raved about your cooked dinner.

“I’m sure there’ll be some leftovers.” A bit later you realized you were wrong.

“Turned out that I underestimated football players appetite.”, you laughed whole-heartedly.

“You absolutely did.”, the midfielder grinned mischievously.

“But I guess that means you did really like my paella.”, you observed smiling.

“Yes, you can stay here. You passed the test.”, the Dutch player winked at you.

“Thanks?”, you giggled nervously.

“Just joking. Thank you for cooking.”, she replied genuinely.

“You’re welcome.”, you muttered, you were grateful for her hospitality. Not everyone would let a stranger sleep in their place even when she was the cousin of a teammate.

“I really appreciate it. You didn’t have to.”, Victoria went on earnestly.

“No worries.”, you waved it off.

“I’ll make breakfast in return.”, the midfielder decided.

“English or Dutch breakfast?”, you asked her.

“Whatever you want. But don’t expect too much.”, she warned you.

“I won’t.”, you assured her.

“Good because I’m shit at cooking.”, Victoria confessed.

“We’ll see about that.”

“Oh, you’ll see.”, the Arsenal player smirked.

The following day, the breakfast wasn’t as bad as your host claimed it to be, but your day was supposed to be even better than that.

“Vicky, can you look after Myle this afternoon? I’ve a doctor’s appointment.”, Vivianne questioned her teammate on the phone.  

“Sure, I love the doggo.”, Victoria agreed happily.

 “Dank je !”, the older woman voice sounded relieved.

“Geen dank. Tell Beth I said hi.”, she responded cheerfully.

“I’ll. Also you texted you’ve a roommate at the moment. Will she be there too?“, Vivianne asked, her voice dripping with curiosity.

Her dutch teammate shrugged: “Probably. Unless she wants to explore London on her own.“

“She’s Codis cousin, right? I assumed that as a child from the country side, she would like dogs.“

Victoria frowned but she decided to bite back the question of where Viv knew that from. Knowing the older dutch player, she would probably only get something vague or mysterious in reply anyway.

Instead, Victoria played along: “I mean who doesn’t like dogs?!“

“Exactly.“, Vivianne grinned back.

The sun even made rare appearance in the afternoon while you followed Victoria to go dog sitting.

As soon as the dutch football player had opened the door, a small brown dog was already waiting for you, wagging its tail.

You immediately dropped to your knees in the middle of the floor to pet the dog: “Oh my god. Myle is adorable!“

“Right?“, Victoria smiled down at you while she walked past, deeper into Beths and Vivs apartment.

“Yes, she’s such a cutie!“

Happily, the little dog started to climb up on your lap and lick your face. You giggled.

“Myle, come here.“, Victoria called from the living room and Myle immediately followed her call.

Victoria was sitting on the sofa, the dog right in front of her when you joined them.

“Show y/n what we taught you.“

You laughed: “What is she supposed to do?.“

“Watch.“, Victoria said, holding up one finger. “Sit!“

There was a small pause at first but then Myle sat.

You clapped your hands excitedly: “Well done, Myle.“

“Now lay down. And play dead.“, Victoria commanded.

You watched as the small dog laid down and then rolled over on her back.

You bent down to give rub her belly: “Good girl!“

Victoria looked almost as proud as if it was her own dog: “She’s so talented, right?“

“Yes, she’s a really smart puppy.“, you agreed. You could not get enough of Myle.

“The whole team loves her.“

“I can see why.“, you smiled. Your cheeks felt like you had been smiling the whole time since meeting the dog.

“So it’s a big honour to be dog sitting.“

You thoughtfully studied the football player for a small moment before suggesting: “Do you think we could go for a little walk? If that’s okay with your knee?“

“Sure, who’s going to stop me?“, Victoria smiled confidently but the short look of worry that had flashed across her face did not escape you.

You gave a one-shoulder shrug, trying to match her energy: “I don’t know. Your team doctor, the physios…?“

“They’re way too busy to watch me all the time.“, she joked as she determinedly got up from the sofa and searched for Myles leash.

You nodded slowly: “Okay, let’s go then.“

Despite the pain in her knee, Victoria was eager to show you the beautiful sides of her home of choice. After a short ride on the tube, you walked down the streets of Notting Hill.

Due to her injury, you took several breaks which you didn’t mind because it gave you the time to admire the pastel-coloured houses.

“The city is beautiful.”, you beamed.

“Don’t fall in love in love. You’ll never leave.”, the Dutch woman warned you jokingly.

“I’m only here for one Uni semester as an exchange student and already left my heart in Barcelona.”, you reassured her.

For a second the midfielder was too stunned to speak, before she caught herself again: “Wait. Are you saying you’re staying here?”

“Yes, for one semester.”, you affirmed.

“Oh, I thought you’d just visit.”, Victoria mumbled, while redoing her high ponytail nervously.  

“No, I’ll be here a bit longer than that.”, you said.

“I see..”

“You don’t like that news?”, you raised an eyebrow at her.

“No, I do. That means you can make more paella for me.”, the football player disagreed delighted.

“Okay, I can teach you how to cook it.”, you offered her gladly that she loved your family recipe as much as you did.

“Promise?”, she looked at you big-eyed.

“Promise. Maybe Laia and your other teammates could join us if they want to.”, you thought out loud. Grateful to be able to get to know some more people outside of university, maybe even becoming friends with some of them.

“Sure, they could.”, Victoria replied half-heartedly. Normally she loved to spend time with the fellow Arsenal players, but the thought of sharing you with them wasn’t something the Dutch woman looked forward to. Watching you cook was very intimate experience for her.

“Could be fun.”, you tried to convince her from your idea. The rest of the walk with the dog was uneventful. Still, you wondered why the midfielder was a bit more distanced than before. Got something you said lost or misunderstood in translation?

“Thanks for taking care of Myle.”, Vivianne remarked once she returned from the appointment to pick up her puppy.

“You’re welcome, she’s such a good dog.”, you waved it off, already falling for the dog’s charm like everyone else in the team.

“Myle got a new fan.”, Victoria commented with a cheeky smile on her lips.

“I’m not surprised.”, the proud dog owner grinned.

“I can’t wait to see her again.”, you hummed.

“You’ll soon enough.”, the midfielder promised you.

You enjoyed the days you got to spend with Victoria at her place.

It was like you two had always known each other, there was nothing awkward about it.

You loved cooking and Victoria was more than grateful to have some help around the house.

But your time as roommates was about to end on the day Laia returned from her national team.

While your cousin helped you transfer all your stuff to her house, Victoria sat in her kitchen talking to her dutch teammate.

“You fell for Laias cousin.“, Vivianne said with her typical dutch directness.

The younger player grimaced: “I didn’t fall for her.“

She could basically hear Viv roll her eyes. “If you say so… Then why did you look so sad all day about the fact that she left for Laias apartment today?“

“I’m not sad.“, Victoria protested again, slowly getting irritated with her teammate.

“Tell that to your face, Vic.“, the older player chuckled.

“My face is fine…“

“Vic…“, Beths voice said, she apparently had taken the phone from her girlfriend.

“What?“

Upon the sound of Victorias annoyed voice, even the England winger gave up: “Oh, doesn’t matter.“

For a while there was radio silence between you and Victoria. Finding your way around university took up most of your time and energy. Laia also took it upon herself to show you London whenever you both had some free time.

You were supposed to be working on an assignment when Victoria called.

“Sorry, Vicky. First week of university was a lot. But I’ll be at your home match this weekend…“, you started to apologize before she even said a word.

“I- you will be?“, she asked surprised.

“Yes. Got to see my cousin with her team.“, you smiled.

“She’ll be great.“, Victoria promised you, her voice sounding a bit more chipper.

“I bet so.“

“You’ll see.“

For some reason, after that phone call, you could barely wait for the weekend to come.

Your cousin even provided you with an Arsenal shirt for the game.

You wore it proudly as you watched the game in the stands, cheering loudly whenever Laia had the ball.

The game ended with a clear win for Arsenal.

While people started leaving the stadium, Victoria slowly limped in your direction.

She was still not walking too well but she grinned at you.

“Nice outfit, y/n.“

“Oh thanks.“, you laughed and turned around to show her the Codina on your back.

“Looks good on you.“

“It does, right?“, you winked at her.

“Oh yes.“

“Vicky wants you to get a Pelova one.“, Laias voice joined the conversation as she appeared in front of you.

You turned to the injured player: “You do?“

Victorias cheeks reddened as she asked Laia: “What? Why would I?“

Laia shrugged: “You said that earlier in the dressing room.“

“Oh. See you, Vicky. Laia, we’ll meet each other later.”, you bid goodbye abruptly.

“Where’s she’s going?”, the Dutch woman asked your cousin confused.

“I think home, why?”, she replied, but there wasn’t an answer coming from her friend as the fellow footballer tried to catch up with you.

Surprised you turned around once you felt her gaze on your back:” Vicky?”

“Where are you going?”, Victoria questioned slightly out of breath.

“Home. Laia’s question made you uncomfortable, so I thought it might be better when I leave. But you should know that I really enjoyed the week we had when I arrived in London.”, you explained quickly.

“So did I. Y/n, my door is always open for you.”, the midfielder offered kindly.

“That’s nice of you.”, you commented, smiling thankfully.

“I mean it.”, she emphasized.

“What if I don’t like you like a normal friend?”, you searched in her light eyes for an answer to the question which made your heartbeat faster.

“You mean the way you want to wear my jersey at games?”, Victoria grinned excitedly.

“Si.”, you muttered blushing.

“If I get you my jersey, will you kiss me?”, the Dutch woman pressed on delighted by that idea.

“The answer is yes.”, you replied laughing.

“Wait here.”, she told you smirking before walking as fast as she could with her injury to the changing room.

“Vicky, what’s going on?”, Beth wanted to know noisily.

“I’ve to hurry up.”, Victoria waved it off.

“She’s getting her girl, Beth.”, Vivianne observed. Sometimes it scared the younger player how well the older one could read her thoughts and doings. But this time she had no time to tell her off.

“How can we help`”, the blonde asked cheerfully.

“Help me find a clean jersey with my name on it.”, Victoria answered.

“Found one.”, Beth cheered after a couple of minutes of searching.

“You got the jersey.”, you remarked amusedly, once she handed it to you.

“Told you.”, the midfielder stated proudly.

“I guess it’s time to fulfil my part.”, you said while your lips collided into the softest most heartfelt kiss.

“I wanted to do this since you cooked me paella.”, Victoria confessed.

“When don’t stop now.”, you threw her a cheeky smile before she kissed you again, more eagerly than before.

What a coincidence it was for you two to meet each other the way you did, later when your girlfriend was fully recovered from her ACL injury, she would call the start of your romance a blessing in disguise.

[maya-caffrey]

Rain, Cinnamon, Cologne, and Conditioner

pairing: sirius black x reader

summary: Amortentia week is always chaotic. Especially so when you're lab partners with longtime frenemy sirius black

warnings: Language maybe, fic from reader's pov

a/n: been forever since i wrote for a marauder, lets hope this is acceptable 🙏🏻

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Although Slughorn certainly meant well, there was simply nothing that one could do to hate him a bit less during Amortentia week. Dramatic breakups preceded by "What do you MEAN you smell my sister's perfume!?", and hasty love confessions followed by immediate regret, for a spectator like me this was the best week ever at Hogwarts.

The class smelled faintly of rain and cinnamon to me, a lingering effect of the neighboring cauldrons.

"I honestly have no idea what I'm supposed to be smelling here, like, I am certain no one has smelled this exact smell before."

"James, come on, that is clearly Lavender."

"What?"

"I smell Lavender!" she said, weirdly enthusiastic about the smell.

"Lily, honey, say that again but slowly."

It took her a minute before she realized. Even the smartest people get confuddled sometimes. Of course, she'll never know what it smelled like to him.

Somewhere in the back, I saw Lucius Malfoy almost poke some poor kid's eye out with his wand, and next to his table was Severus Snape, staring menacingly into a cauldron that definitely did not have Amortentia in it. He was a weird kid. Creeps me out still.

Anyway, that brings us to Sirius and I, who couldn't agree on who gets to put the sneezewort in.

"After you," I said, not wanting to bear the brunt of what will follow. You see, Sneezewort gets its name from the fact that whenever it's added to a potion, it produces a puff of smoke that causes those closest to sneeze for a good entire minute.

"Oh, no, go ahead. I insist."

"Well, I insist more."

"I insist the most, then."

"Sirius, come on."

"Hey, you started it!"

"Well, you end it. I don't want to keep sneezing!"

"Oh, good, because it's my favorite hobby, sneezing incessantly."

There was no compromise in sight. That is, until-

"Alright Sirius, I'll tell you what. You convince Peter to do this, I'll get Marlene to go with you to Hogsmeade. For real this time."

"Please, I don't need you to be my wingman, I'm perfectly charming all on my own, thank you very much," he said, signature smirk decorating his face.

"You know you need my hel-"

"Yes I do, I was kidding, thank you so much, I love you."

I shook my head and laughed while waiting for Peter to take whatever bait Sirius was laying out. Sure, he was presumptuous and annoying, and the banter was endless, but I'd be lying if I said I didn't look forward to it every day at this point.

After Remus begrudgingly dragged a red-in-the-face Peter away from our table, we stirred the potion 3 times, and all that was left was to add the pieces of Lovelog. We added them at the same time and instinctively held our breaths and waited for the potion to turn pink, which it did. However, it didn't work.

"Dude, I smell nothing."

"Yes, thanks for pointing it out, (Y/n). Extremely astute observation. 10 points to Gryffindor."

"Oh, okay, sure, be all haughty after fucking up the potion."

"I fucked up? That's presumptuous! For all we know, you screwed up."

"Please, I used Slughorn's recipe down to the smallest detail there is no way it was me. You were the one who kept taking off to 'charm Marlene with your smile' every 5 minutes."

"Hey. I'm playing the long game and it will work. Eventually. Just- Admit that you screwed up, please?"

"Oh, no, no we are not doing this. Remus, could you come here, please?"

"Me? Oh, no, love. I am not getting involved with this," said Remus, vaguely gesturing in our general direction.

James threw a raisin-looking thing at Sirius' head to get his attention which met its mark, followed by a faint 'ow'.

"Oi dickhead! Lily says you're potion's working fine. She smells Lavender."

"Well dip me in milk and call me a cookie 'cause I cannot smell anything for the life of me over that fruity conditioner of yours," said Sirius, in an annoyingly accusatory tone that set me over the edge because well first of all fuck you. second of all-

"Oh, you're one to talk Mr I-must-use-the-entire-bottle-of-cologne. You smell like an axe showroom" Yeah, get his ass, me. "Also, I didn't use conditioner today, you pompous dick."

"Yeah? Well, get ready to feel stupid because I ran out of cologne yesterday. Ha. In your face." Wait, what?

Silence.

Contemplative silence.

A whole lot of good old silence.

Faces contorting in ways like never before as we unpack what just happened, in sweet, painful, silence.

"(Y/n) did you-"

"Uh-uh. Yep. Apparently. And you, uh,"

"Big time, yes."

"Oh, okay, so, uh, what now?"

"We could talk about it?"

Sirius Black wants to "talk it out". Yeah, we don't got this.

"Hey morons, you need to fu-"

"Yeah, thank you, Remus. We got it." "Yeah, Cheers, mate."

[mediumgayitalian]

Nico really fucking hates capture the flag.

Well, not always. Last week was fun. Last week was the annual Everyone Against The Stolls (to atone for their crimes), and Nico got to chase Connor around at top speeds, cackling, committing his shrieking and begs for mercy to memory. That was nice. That almost made him forgive the fucker for digging a trench under Nico’s unwelcome mat for him to fall into at seven thirty in the godsdamn morning.

But tonight’s game is boring.

He’s been standing, alone, at the base of the flag for the past forty bajillion hours. He’d raised a few dozens skeletons to spar with at first, since animating them to fight himself isn’t technically against the rules, but that got dull fast. (It isn’t much fun sparring with a partner who doesn’t have a brain. He already has to do that enough with Percy when he comes to visit camp.) He’d climbed the various trees around the clearing, or at least he tried until he got reamed by the dryads for climbing on a manner that was too annoying (?), and tried his hands at a few summoning spells. Nothing held his interest long.

And now he’s just standing, doing nothing, and he’s not allowed to leave. He has to stay in this stupid spot on the off chance that someone comes stumbling over to fight him for the flag.

“You’re our best swordsman, she said,” he says mockingly, beaming the nastiest vibes he can manage in Piper’s vague direction. “We need you on our defensive line, she said. Nyeh nyeh nyeh.”

His checks his watch. He groans. He looks critically over the grass, looking for a softer patch, and when he locates it he throws himself dramatically upon it, groaning louder.

“This sucks!” he yells, to no one.

“Will you shut up!” shouts back the dryad he pissed off earlier. “For the love of photosynthesis! Fuck!”

He bites his tongue hard to hold back laughter. (If he can avoid getting his entire cabin overgrown with prickle bushes again, that’d be great.) “Sorry,” he calls, trying with everything he has to sound contrite. Convincing his father to fight the Titan War was easier, actually. Acting is not his calling.

“Hmph!”

At least listening to see if she’ll come out and yell at him again provides something to ease his boredom. Yes, he’s going to regret bothering her, but in his defense, solo guarding is cruel and unusual punishment. He’d rather sit by an outlet with a fork and see if he can poke and let go fast enough to avoid dying. That at least would be interesting.

A rustling of leaves recaptures his attention, and he pauses.

“Holly?”

When no one answers, which is odd because she’s taken every opportunity in the last hour to either insult him or pelt him with stones, he lifts his head.

“You’re not going to scare me, dude. I had my fear glands surgically removed to become a better soldier.”

Not true. Obviously. But a fun bonus of being the camp weirdo is that no one doubts anything he says. He’s working on convincing everyone younger than him that he needs weekly tributes of chocolate delivered to his door every Friday or the dead are going to take over the world. So far, it’s working.

“Look, Holly, I’m sorry about the zombie, okay, I promise it didn’t mean to sneeze part of its brain on you —”

The rustling sounds again, only this time Nico can see that it’s not Holly’s tree, and in fact she is nowhere to be found. Alarmed, he jumps to his feet, shifting so he’s balanced on the balls of his feet, poised to attack. Is Piper’s plan failing? Has someone actually managed to make it all the way over here without getting (gently, probably, although they lost the last game and Piper gets cranky without dessert) maimed?

The rustling sounds for a third time. This time, an armoured someone stumbles out of the underbrush, tripping over their own foot and nearly landing flat on their face.

Nico has his sword at their throat in a millisecond.

“Wo-oah, Morbius. That’s probably my least favourite sword you could stab in me.”

Nico goes bright red. “I have never wanted to stab you more than right this second.”

Will, chest plate skewed to the right, quiver completely empty, and black paint smeared under his eyes, snickers. He puts a finger on the tip of Nico’s sword and pushes it away from his neck.

“The opportunity was right there, babe. I couldn’t not.”

“You really, really could. In fact at all times, you should remember these words of wisdom: shut up.”

“…Damn. Inspiring.”

Nico rolls his eyes, but the effect is somewhat lessened by the smile on his face and the obvious pleasure in his expression. He’s even feeling merciful enough to accept Will’s kiss, although his sword keeps a good amount of distance between them. (Will’s on the blue team, after all. It would be unprofessional to be fraternizing with the enemy.

…Well, too much, anyway.)

“What’re you doing here? You’re supposed to be with the other archers, sitting in trees and causing havoc.”

Will shrugs, grinning lazily. “I quit. This game is senselessly violent and I’m Against It On Principle. I’m a pacifist, you know.”

“Uh huh.” Nico raises an eyebrow. “I assume this doesn’t count you choking Cecil out in a headlock, this morning.”

Will opens his mouth. Nothing comes out. He closes it again.

“Cecil is my mortal enemy,” he grudges after a moment. “He doesn’t count.”

“‘Course not. Not like you cried for two hours when he went to visit his mom last weekend or anything.”

“Will you — stop saying I cried. I barely teared up, okay. Barely.”

Nico can’t quite force down the stupid grin that pulls across his face, matching Will’s, nor can he resist grabbing the leather straps of his boyfriend’s armour and hauling him close.

“You better not be here to distract me,” he mumbles, leaning close and pressing a kiss to the underside of his jaw, the corner of his mouth. Will hums, settling his hands on Nico’s hips.

“Nope. Cross my heart and hope to die.”

“Drama queen.”

“Excuse — I am the least dramatic, I’ll have you know. I’m a pinnacle of solemnity. I am a shining beacon of stoicism. I am — mmfh,” He trails off. “Okay, doing this now, mhm.”

Nico smiles triumphantly into the kiss. Will, he has found, is very easy to shut up, despite his long-running nickname of Motormouth. It’s almost like he has an off button that can be accessed only by Nico sticking his tongue in his mouth. Nico is doing his civic duty, honestly. He should be compensated for his service.

(‘Course, doesn’t hurt that Will smells, like, really good, all the time, and his lips are soft as hell and he is actually quite the kisser, in fact. That is definitely a fun bonus.)

He smooths his hands over Will’s shoulders, travelling up the sides of his neck and settling in his hair. Will keens, slightly, when he wraps a finger around a frizzy golden curl and tugs, slightly, when he scratches his nails along his scalp. The rush of power at the feeling makes Nico dizzy, and his sword clatters to the ground as he busies himself with more interesting — and important — things.

Like pulling more of those sounds from his boyfriend’s throat. Or making his knees buckle, again, like he did the other night — gods, that was good, it made Will flush scarlet and Nico feel like he was fuckin’ floating, to have Will so needy and touchy and totally at his mercy —

“Free line to the flag! Go go go go!”

Nico startles, whirling towards the sudden cacophony of noises. To his horror, what looks like half the camp, helmets shining with plumes of blue, comes pouring into the clearing, weapons raised, voices mixing in one long, victorious shout. He lunges for his sword, but before he can grab it, two strong arms tighten around his torso, pinning his hands to his side.

Immediately, he knows he’s been set up.

“Oh, you — fucker!”

He feels the curve of Will’s grin against his neck. “First shower privileges for a whole month, baby.” He noses along his jaw, pressing an apologetic kiss to his cheek. “Couldn’t resist.”

Nico struggles, aghast, watching the once-red flag shimmer in Lou Ellen's hold to a bright, shining blue. “I am breaking up with you, you traitor, you Iago, you vixen — ”

Will snorts. He ducks down and pecks Nico on the lips, again, and again, and then shifts to his cheeks, the bridge of his nose, his temples, his forehead, and all over his face, making louder and louder mwah sounds until Nico is laughing, punching his shoulder and shoving him away.

“Okay! Okay. Let me go, you villainous toad. We will discuss how much you’ll have to grovel for my forgiveness after Piper finishes yelling at me for getting distracted.”

Will presses one last kiss to his nose, smiling cheekily before stepping away, heading towards his boasting team. “Enjoy that lecture! Love you!”

“Yeah, yeah.” Nico rolls his eyes, resting his aching cheek in his hand. “Love you too, asshole.”

[the-offside-rule]

Hector Fort (FCBarcelona) - Early Mornings

Requested: yes

Prompt: early mornings with Hector Fort

Warnings: none

The soft glow of the early morning sun seeped through the blinds, casting a golden hue over the room. Y/N stirred under the covers, still half-asleep, as she felt a gentle hand shake her shoulder. A deep voice, filled with amusement, rumbled from beside her. "Y/N, you wanted me to wake you up, remember?" Hector’s low voice made her groan, burying her face deeper into the pillow.

In the haze of her sleepy mind, she vaguely recalled a conversation the night before where she’d told her boyfriend, Hector Fort, to wake her up so she could join him for an early morning workout. "No excuses." She had said, determined in the moment. Now, however, she was seriously regretting that decision. "Mm...just...five more minutes." She mumbled incoherently, pulling the blanket tighter around herself.

Hector chuckled softly, brushing a hand through her hair. "Come on, corazon. You said you wanted to work out with me." His voice was teasing, but firm. Reluctantly, she cracked one eye open and let out a sigh. "Okay, okay..." She grumbled, sitting up. Still half-asleep, she swung her legs out of bed and lazily changed into her workout gear; a pair of shorts and a sports bra. But instead of heading to the gym, she promptly collapsed back onto the bed, lying down as if she hadn’t moved at all.

Hector raised an eyebrow at her, crossing his arms with a smirk. "Seriously?" He asked, playful exasperation in his tone. "Too tired." She muttered, closing her eyes again. Without another word, Hector leaned down and effortlessly scooped her up into his strong arms. She squeaked in protest, but he was already carrying her out of the bedroom and down the hall towards the gym in their house. Her face rested against his shoulder as she mumbled incoherent words into his ear.

"Shh, corazon." Hector murmured, his voice soft and soothing as he shifted her in his arms. "Ya casi llegamos, just a little more." His words in Spanish were a gentle lullaby, but she was too groggy to understand most of it. She only heard the comforting tone in his voice, which almost made her want to drift back to sleep. She groaned into his neck, half-heartedly kicking her legs. "This is... torture."

He smiled down at her, kissing the top of her head. "You told me to wake you up, remember? You’re too stubborn for your own good." Once they reached the gym, Hector gently placed her down next to the treadmill. With a long, exaggerated groan, she reluctantly climbed onto the machine, eyes still half-shut as she started the slowest possible pace. She shot him a grumpy look, but he just grinned, hopping onto his own treadmill beside her.

Minutes passed, and she somehow managed to keep her legs moving, though it felt like an eternity. She wasn’t sure how she was still upright, but the steady rhythm of her feet hitting the treadmill kept her from falling back asleep. After what felt like hours (but was probably only ten minutes), Hector glanced over at her. "Alright, warm-up's done." She stopped dead in her tracks and stared at him incredulously. "Wait, that was the warm-up?" she asked, panting lightly. "You dragged me out of bed for a warm-up?"

Hector shrugged, amused by her frustration. "Of course. We haven’t even started the real workout yet." She let out a dramatic sigh, stepping off the treadmill and throwing her hands up in defeat. "Nope. I’m done." She collapsed onto a nearby bench, sitting back with a smirk. "I’ll just sit here and enjoy the show."

Hector raised an eyebrow at her but didn’t argue, knowing she was too stubborn to be convinced otherwise. As he continued with his workout, she leaned back against the wall, arms crossed as she watched him lift weights. His muscles flexed with every move, sweat glistening on his skin. She couldn’t help but admire the sight, her eyes trailing over him as he worked. He must have caught her staring because he glanced in the mirror and met her gaze, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. "Enjoying yourself, hermosa?"

She didn’t even bother to deny it, her smirk growing wider. "Just appreciating the view." She winked, and Hector chuckled, shaking his head as he returned to his routine.

After what felt like an eternity (for him), Hector finally finished his workout. She watched as he disappeared into the bathroom to shower, leaving her in the kitchen to make breakfast. She had just finished preparing a plate of eggs and toast when she heard footsteps behind her.

Turning around, she was met with the sight of Hector walking towards her, still slightly damp from his shower. A towel hung loosely around his waist, and his messy, wet hair dripped water onto the floor. His muscles glistened in the morning light, and his eyes were filled with that familiar playful glint.

"Smells good." He murmured as he approached her, wrapping his strong arms around her waist from behind. She felt the cool water from his still-wet body soak into her clothes as he pulled her close, pressing his chest against her back.

"Hector!" She protested weakly, squirming as her clothes got soaked. But his warmth and the scent of his soap made her smile. He chuckled into her ear, his lips brushing her neck. "What? You don’t like getting wet?" She rolled her eyes, but couldn’t help the smile that tugged at her lips. "I didn't say that."

"I know." He whispered, planting a soft kiss on her cheek. "I usually have this effect on you, no?" With a soft laugh, she leaned back into his embrace, melting into his warmth as the morning sun filled the room around them.

[roosterr]

white flag ✹ interlude

note: this chapter is a lil shorter than usual, I just wanted to include a lil bonding moment for reader and ghost before the events of next chapter :)

pairing: ghost x gn!reader

wc: 1.7k

no use of y/n reader's callsign is 'stingray'

summary: you and ghost go people watching in the local park, plus a little heart to heart

warnings: just some much needed fluff :)

ao3

【prev】 || 【next】

one warm shower and a couple of ibuprofen later, you're feeling mostly human again with a manageable headache and a reasonable amount of regret for how pathetic you’d acted. with time you’d get over that, especially now that ghost had finally seen the light and started treating you with some decency. admittedly though, his change in attitude threw you off earlier; you were bracing for a stern lecture and he essentially brushed it off as though it didn't matter, but you’ve decided not to dwell on that fact.

small victories, as they say.

for the very first time, the pair of you were both sitting across from each other at the tiny kitchen table, in your own worlds; the radio was faintly playing some classic rock station in the background as ghost had his nose in his book and you played some mindless game on your phone. you’d honestly prefer to be reading a good book too, but your collection was currently ash in the wind, so this would have to do.

you're tempted to try starting a conversation, the quiet was giving you far too much room to think, but on the other hand the atmosphere is so peaceful it would be a shame to ruin it.

so you set your phone down on the table and turn your eyes to ghost, watching him scan the pages, his head tilted slightly in concentration. he's washed most of the paint from around his eyes – that was probably done yesterday, not that you noticed – so only a few smudges mark his skin. with the black paint gone, you notice the raised bumps of old scars around his eyes, something you'd never paid much attention to before. you know better than to ask, but you do wonder, in the back of your mind, the stories behind all of them. examining them gives you inexplicable urge to run your fingers over them, to soothe the ache having so many of them must cause.

his dark eyes are like black holes, drawing in your attention and refusing to let you escape their grasp. you're vaguely aware of how long you've been staring at his face, but you don't care to snap yourself out of it until he speaks up.

"what?" he grumbles, not bothering to look up from the page. you quickly look away, down to where your hands idly fiddle with your phone on the table.

"question."

"hm?" he hums in acknowledgement, but still doesn't look at you. normally you'd give up at this point, assuming he was completely uninterested in what you had to say, but this time you decide to push your luck.

"you fancy a walk to the park?"

finally, he meets your eyes, looking up through his light eyelashes and blinking once as he contemplates his answer. you resist the urge to break eye contact as he stares right through you.

"...alright." he says, wedging his bookmark between the pages and sets the book down on the table.

you weren't expecting him to say yes, but you're pleasantly surprised that he did; it felt slightly surreal that after all this time, you were finally becoming friends with ghost. your eyes follow him as he stands, leaving the room to, presumably, change his mask while you sit there with a bewildered look on your face.

a minute or so passes before you hear his voice again. "you comin'?" he calls from the entryway, bringing you back to the present.

"oh– yeah, one second!" you jump up from your chair and rush to get ready as well. the grin you wore as you rushed past him to fetch your jacket was unconscious, the feeling lighting up your features and overshadowing and lingering thoughts from the night before.

a few moments later you're tugging your boots on and you're both walking out the door together, side by side. for once it's actually a nice day, so the short walk to the park is a pleasant one under the blue sky and warm sunlight.

"sorry again, for last night. i think that's gonna haunt me for the rest of my life." you look over to ghost with an apologetic expression, and you can't help but feel that the expression he gives back is one of amusement despite not being able to see half his face.

"that's twice you've screamed at me now." he says, keeping pace with you for a change rather than marching ahead as he usually does.

"i didn't scream at you!" you attempt to defend yourself, but thinking back on it you change your mind. "alright, the second time maybe i did,"

"maybe."

"but the first time, i was very collected." you continue. "it was quite satisfying, to be honest."

"i suppose i deserved it." his gaze falls to the ground and, even though he's right – he did deserve it – you do feel a little bad.

"seriously, though," you continue, "thank you, for looking after me last night. you didn't have to, and i know you didn't want to, but i really appreciate it."

"anyone would'a done the same…" he mutters, bringing a hand up to scratch awkwardly at the back of his head. you get the feeling he's not used to people showing their appreciation for him, which only encourages you to carry on.

"and thanks for taking me in, i know having some random idiot in your house is the last thing you want." you give him a warm smile as he looks at you from the corner of his eye.

"well, you're not just any idiot, are you?" he says, earning a questioning tilt of your head. "you're sting. the idiot."

a genuine laugh escapes you, the first one in a long time, and you gently nudge ghost's arm with your elbow.

"oh, lovely, thanks mate." you chuckle, shaking your head in amusement. you see his eyes lift in a barely noticeable smile, the sight causing a warm feeling to bloom in your chest.

you arrive at the park fairly quickly, finding yourselves an out of the way bench to occupy under the partial shade of a nearby oak tree. you're enveloped by a comfortable silence as you both simply observe the beauty of nature and bask in the feeling of the sun on your face.

you're not sure how long the two of you sit there in each other's company, but you find yourself subconsciously drifting closer to him, close enough that your knees just about touch. you're sure he notices – there isn't much that gets by him – but he doesn't show it.

"did you hear they figured out how the fire started?" you keep your voice low to preserve the peaceful quiet, turning your head to look at him as you ask.

"oh yeah? how?"

"ugh…" you groan with the annoyance the memory bring up. "my stupid neighbour left a fucking candle burning all night, the twat."

"what a fuckin' idiot…" he glances briefly in your direction, a sympathetic frown on his face.

"i can never look at candles the same way again, they're tainted now." you drag a hand over your face and shake your head to rid yourself of the thought.

there's another pause in the conversation as you stare ahead, watching the trees sway in the breeze and all the people going about their lives, everything cast in a golden glow from sun.

you don't want it to end, the way the two of you are now. this is the most you've ever spoken to echother, outside of arguments, and you really want to make the most of it.

"nice weather today, right?" you try to keep him talking to you, and you're considering the fact that he hasn't told you to shut up yet as a good sign.

"hm." ghost hums and leans his head back, his eyes fluttering shut. "you gonna ask me what my favourite colour is again?"

"c'mon, throw me a bone here." you turn your body to face him more. "actually what is it, though?"

"...green."

"i knew it!" you exclaim, a triumphant grin pulling at your lips. "it makes sense, you just have 'dark green' vibes."

"i'll take your word for it."

it's difficult to know what to talk about with him, seeing as you've never actually been friendly before and you've already used the only small talk question you could think of.

"hmm…" your eyes roam over the park, looking for something to give you an idea. eventually you land on a scrappy little white dog, with possibly the worst haircut you've ever seen. "look at that woman's dog," you point it out to ghost, snickering at the way it was resisting its owner as she pulled it along. "i feel bad for the little guy."

"is that a dog? thought it was an oversized rat."

"oh my god!" you snort a laugh, covering your mouth with a hand and throwing your head back. you hear ghost chuckle lightly beside you, and when you turn your head to look back at him you find him already looking at you.

all other thoughts leave your mind when you see how his eyes glow a golden colour in the light of the sun. you feel the tips of your ears heating up and quickly face forward again before he has a chance to notice.

luckily another distraction presents itself almost immediately, in the form of a well-dressed office worker sprinting past you at full speed.

"wow," you mutter, your eyes following him as he disappears around a bend in the path, "he's not hangin' about."

"maybe he left a candle burnin'." ghost looks back to you, a playful glint in his eyes you're not sure you've ever seen on him.

you can't help the grin that pulls at your lips at his terrible joke. "aw, ghost," you groan, gently shoving him as he chuckles at your reaction, "you're wrong for that one."

ghost slouches into the bench as you both look back out across the park, shifting so his thigh presses against yours ever so slightly. you're careful not to react, afraid that he'd pull away if you draw attention to the gesture, and resolve to just enjoy the rare closeness of his presence.

eventually you'd have to head back, but for now you were more than content to sit here and watch the world go by with him.

taglist: @sofasoap , @siilvan , @mockerycrow , @i-love-ghost , @projectdreamwalker , @achelois-is-here , @adamsloverboy , @thatchickwiththecamera , @chickensandwich69 , @batmanunicorns523 , @tiny-kasper , @dezibou , @pampeop , @cumbermovels , @goth-boi-atlas , @berryjuicyy , @guiltgoreglory , @postmodernrevolutionist , @untoldshortsofthefandoms , @delilah-grimes , @sunflowerqueen1416 , @luvssemma , @ghostslittlegf , @imonmykneessir , @kenz-ee , @eistro-phobia , @rzmarona , @alanalanalanalanalanna , @cathnoneofyourbusiness , @geisterfvhrer , @lazyninjaphilosopher , @aliilium , @koi-feish , @chaoticgoblindev , @clear-your-mind-and-dream , @thrivig-n-jiving , @lesterous , @glitterypirateduck , @slu77ym4nw415ts , @livelaugh-light , @trulylavendedarling

if your name is crossed out, it means i can't tag you for whatever reason, sorry! ༼ つ ◕_◕ ༽つ

[cecilyv]

Graffiti on my body

(buck/tommy, 9-1-1, mini-fic)

Sometimes being multiple time zones away from @liminalmemories21 sucks, and sometimes you have a vision, you write up the basics, and you wake up to a moment of joy. Today we both got to say, "Good morning to me; and yes, exactly."

++

Tommy’s body has always been utilitarian; built and nourished for what could it do, how far it could be pushed. As much as he thought about it at all, he vaguely considered what it needed — food, water, exercise. Mostly it was a nuisance that never did enough, never as much as he wanted, as his superiors wanted — so he focused on how he could build it to hold more, help more, save more.

But now, wrapped in Evan’s sheets, bolstered by Evan’s body, he wonders, maybe for the first time, what his body wants, what his body can accept, what his body can give. Evan’s hands make him question what he’s been missing, what he could have been wanting, asking for. He wants to see what Evan sees; he wants to look down and see more than a job, a soldier, a firefighter. 

Evan touches him like nobody else ever has — there's desire and hunger, and those he's used to. He’s seen them before; maybe not to this degree, and that’s a trip all of its own.  But Evan touches him with wonder, too — like he's precious, like he could be hurt and Evan wants to keep him safe. Nobody's ever touched him like that. 

Evan lays with his head on Tommy’s chest, drawing on his skin with his finger, intricate swirls and whorls, tracing a pattern that Tommy can't see, but Evan clearly can because it's the same each time  — wants to ask what it is, but also doesn't, just feels it, lets it sink in until he can almost trace it himself. He lies there and takes it, skin still sensitive, flushed and slightly sweaty and, over time, he realizes he needs it, he wants it — Evan marking his place, claiming what’s his.

When he looks down at his skin later, he can almost see the love that Evan has inscribed into his skin. 

And one day, when Evan’s on a 48 and Tommy’s just lying in bed, he traces one of Evan’s favorite spots, the one he always goes back to — and he wouldn’t say he’s impulsive; he’d argue that he has good instincts— he pulls on his clothes and goes to the local tattoo parlor. He stands in parade rest, staring at the art on the wall, abstract colors and details and designs that he doesn’t understand but knows are beautiful. When she asks if she can help, he tries to explain what he wants but he can’t get it quite right. She looks at him with exasperation, with pity, and tells him to come back when he’s sure about what he wants; she doesn’t want him to regret his decisions. 

He leaves, buys a pen and when Evan gets home, when they’re lying in bed again and Evan starts absentmindedly tracing the pattern on his skin, he reaches into a drawer and pulls out the pen and hands it to Evan, and tells him, he wants to see what Evan sees, he wants to wear his mark, he wants to be covered in Evan.

And he goes back to the artist the next day, with Evan sketched on his skin and she examines Tommy in a new way, like he’s a work of art, like he’s changed, improved, special. She sees what Evan sees. 

And Tommy points at the design on his hip, just below his scar, and the woman tilts her head, consideringly, just breathes, “Yes.”

And he lies there and lets her permanently etch Evan onto his skin.

Evan’s eyes go wide when he sees it. “You,” he swallows, voice hoarse, “…show me. “

He knows it was actually pretty impulsive, that they haven’t really been dating long enough for tattoos. But he also knows he won’t regret it if they break up. It’ll break his heart — in so fast he can’t feel the bottom anymore — but he won’t regret it.

“I like the way you see me,” he says simply.

[fast-burn]

Maxiel + 14. Sloppy seconds !!

i think this is maybe my most requested kink 😂 but you gotta give the people what they want! hope you don't mind if i add background garage gangbang into this (and also cw for drug use reference, off-screen)

kink list here

XXX

Generally Daniel tries not to live with regrets, but he's a little miffed that the whole thing with Max's mechanics began after he left Red Bull. Granted, it couldn't have started before. The concept of Max coming off his first race and his first win getting gangbanged within an inch of his life is something Daniel avoids thinking about like someone might avoid grasping a hot poker. That whole idea is just--well yeah, better not.

Still though, it's like Red Bull didn't start having real fun until Daniel was out of the picture. Not that Daniel would have joined or anything, but it would have been nice to have the invitation.

Daniel is in the hotel lobby, late, buying chamomile tea from the bar instead of room service because--he doesn't know. Better to put a couple euros on his credit card rather than charging it to the team? He's just in time to see GP and Calum walk in with Max propped up between them. They each have an arm around his curved waist. Max moves sluggishly, but he seems happy. Downright blissful. They carry him to the elevator and Daniel holds out his AmEx to tap it against the machine.

It takes maybe three minutes of Daniel being back in his own room before he's texting Max.

you good?

yes very good is Max's reply, almost immediately.

Daniel bites his lip. His mind is blank.

wanna come up and watch a movie or something? can't sleep

lol netflix and chill? Max asks, and well that's not-not what Daniel meant. He totally gets if Max is too tired for it. Hardly a big deal.

He says up to you, we can just hang if you want, and then rm 1220.

Daniel sips his tea and then goes to brush his teeth. He's rearranging his curls, trying to make them look fuller, when finally Max knocks on the door.

"Hi Daniel," he says, leaning in the doorway, eyes half-lidded, body swaying like he's drunk. He isn't drunk. He's probably taken a ton of poppers, but now he's genuinely just tired, the effects long since worn off. Daniel scoops him into the room.

Max is easy to direct to the bed, and as soon as he lays down he starts kicking off his shoes, toes prying down the heels before he flicks his ankles and nearly launches them at the goddamn TV. He smiles up at Daniel, the stretch of his mouth a shiny with a smear of lip balm and sore-looking in the corners. He makes grabby hands until Daniel crawls on top of him. Cute. The last time they did this, Max said he always wanted a breather after it all, but once he cooled down he wanted the weight of something anchoring him. Daniel isn't particularly heavy, but he's happy to provide in whatever way he can.

"I don't think I can come again," Max says, rubbing his face against Daniel's neck. His stubble is so scratchy-rough-good, dragging against the grain of Daniel's own beard, that Daniel shivers over and over. "But I'm not ready to sleep yet."

"Lucky me," says Daniel. "You wanna talk about it?"

Max makes a vague noise, but then he gives Daniel the post-gangbang report in broad strokes. They put several big packing blankets down on the garage floor, they took turns, they made sure his holes were always full, they cleaned him up when they were done. Daniel is hard when Max finally snuffles into Daniel's collar and says, "That's all, just the usual. Pretty simple stuff."

The pictures flashing through Daniel's mind aren't simple at all. It's like that guy with the painting of the staircases, tangled up in all different angles. He grinds his dick against the bed in the soft, open vee of Max's legs.

"I don't think I--" Max starts.

Daniel interrupts him. "No. No, I know."

"You would be very nice, Daniel. It's not you that is the problem."

It's twelve to fifteen guys other than me, Daniel thinks to himself, then chastises himself for being jealous. They're not a couple, and Max loves these nights. It makes him feel connected to everyone. It makes him feel so satisfied that he has to be hand-delivered back to the hotel, poured into Daniel's bed to sleep it off for eight hours.

"Can I just take a look?" He asks instead, and Max nods, twists in Daniel's arms until he's flat on his stomach.

"I won't fall asleep," Max promises.

"You can if you want. It was a big day." Daniel tugs Max's soft pants down: Red Bull-branded sweats. It was probably impossible to get him back into his tight jeans, afterwards.

The skin on Max's arse and thighs is red-hot, spanked all over, but nothing looks bruised. Daniel skims his hands across, barely touching but Max still squirms against the sensation. The mechanics clearly love Max so much. They give him exactly what he needs and nothing more, always working together like a well-oiled machine even when said machine is a train they're running on Max.

Daniel slides his thumbs between Max's cheeks, starting from his taint and un-zippering upward, spreading Max so Daniel can inspect the damage. Someone has cleaned him up, got him all sorted out. His hole is like a halved cherry, like Max's lips when he's been biting them, all puffy and used and raw. Daniel can't help but press his face into it.

Max whines lightly when Daniel licks across his hole. He tastes like antiseptic and aloe, and beneath that copper and salt and the undeniable flavour of latex. "Everybody wrapped up?" Daniel asks, almost directly into Max's arsehole.

"Yes, of course," Max says. "It would be too messy if they didn't."

And there's another thought Daniel shouldn't have: Max so full of sperm that he's leaking down his crack and across his balls, all of it mixed together into a mystery sludge, and Daniel could suck every drop out of him.

"You can come on me, though, if you want," Max offers then, and Daniel doesn't need to be told twice.

Daniel kisses up Max's spine and shoves his hand into his own pants, pulls his dick out and strips it fast. He can't be bothered for finesse, suddenly on the edge, totally desperate. "They really got you good, huh?" He asks, mouthing Max's shoulders, his neck, the shell of his ear the same colour as his slapped arse.

"Mm hm," Max murmurs, face mashed into Daniel's pillow. He's gonna pass out any moment. "It was so lovely, Daniel. I wish I could just get fucked like that all the time, but then it wouldn't be special. I can still feel them all, inside. Like they are still doing it. Here, feel," he says, and pulls Daniel's free hand back to his hole just in time for Daniel to feel it pulse and throb against the tips of his fingers, a needy little mouth. And Daniel feeds it, striping Max's back and thighs and arse with his release as he comes.

[sp4ceboo]

Second Chance: Jeong Yunho x Reader

A/N: i honestly feel like i went through multiple divorces writing this

tw: alcohol, swearing, HUGE angst, eventual fluff, people are drunk, there's a party (yes that deserves a warning), gets a little smutty at the end, mention of marriage (twice), could be kinda ooc near the beginning because i started writing this within a month of stanning

wc: 5.3k

The second you step through the doorway, you're already regretting conceding so easily to Wooyoung. He's got his nagging technique perfected - you'd probably be curled up on your sofa binging your favourite movies, surrounded with snacks and fluffy blankets and the comforts of your own home if he wasn't nearly as persuasive as he is.

Instead, here you are, at a party you're not very... invested in, half sulking as San welcomes you in, wishing you were at home, watching the Star Wars prequels back to back with Seonghwa.

San is already half drunk. It's easy to tell; his face and the tips of his ears are blushed a rosy pink, and he's giggling at nothing in particular as he hangs off your shoulders, clinging onto your shirt as if he'll lose you in his own semi-crowded living room. You anticipate another five minutes of clingy San, punctuated by tipsy zoomies, before the alcohol he had (probably just a few shots, to be honest) kicks in, and he begins to feel sleepy. With practiced ease - yes, you've done this many times before - you steer him towards the sofa, grinning at Yeosang as you dump San next to him.

'Nooo...' San mumbles. 'Where are you... where...'

You pat his shoulder. 'I'm not leaving yet, don't worry. Yeosang will look after you.'

Retreating into the small crowd before said man can protest at this forced role of caretaker, you wade your way over to Seonghwa and Hongjoong; greeting both, you have a quick exchange about the former's outfit - one he altered himself - before briefly summarising your wishes about watching Star Wars with the latter. In response, he nods sympathetically, but you can tell he's got his eyes fixed on a girl somewhere over your shoulder, so you move on quickly, searching for Wooyoung.

Vaguely, you spot Mingi towering over almost everyone in the corner, but knowing that the one person you're trying to avoid today may be with him, you look away before your eyes seize the chance to find him.

'Look who showed up!' A voice crows behind you.

You turn around, rolling your eyes. 'And whose fault is that, Woo?'

'He's looking out for you,' Jongho tells you, appearing beside Wooyoung. 'Maybe you needed to get out of the house and - '

'And talk to you-know-who,' Wooyoung finishes.

'No,' you snap. 'Absolutely not.'

He pats your head. 'Here, have a drink. Maybe after it you'll be more open to the idea.'

Reluctantly, you take the cup from him. 'Thanks, I guess.'

Wooyoung and Jongho begin talking about some trend on TikTok that they're planning on roping Mingi into doing with them - in truth, it doesn't quite capure your attention as much as the tall, achingly familiar silhouette across the room does. Before you can stop it, your gaze snags on him, on the angles of his jaw and his elbows, on the curving slope of his shoulders. Inhaling sharply, you quickly look away.

And then you glance over at him again.

Just once, and just long enough to see if he's with anyone.

If he's with a girl.

You know he's perfectly capable of it. You know many people at this party who wouldn't say no to him, even if they knew it was just a rebound. You tell yourself you wouldn't really care, it wouldn't really bother you, but it would. Especially if it was her. Somewhere deep inside you, he's still yours; yours to covet, yours to touch and kiss and love.

But he's not, and he brought that upon himself.

'Hey,' Wooyoung says, waving a hand in front of your face. 'You in there?'

You smack his hand away. 'I wish I wasn't.'

Jongho raises his eyebrows. 'You should just talk to him, if it's bothering you that badly. It's almost been three weeks, you know.'

'Or if you don't want to talk, you can get as drunk as San,' Wooyoung adds helpfully. 'You would definitely forget everything. I don't think our Sannie even knows his own name right now.'

You glance down at your cup, and your stomach twists. 'No thanks.'

Wooyoung wraps an arm around you and squeezes you tightly, smiling sadly. You know he just wants you to cheer up, and this realisation makes you painfully aware of the way you're ruining the mood, of the pity in your friends' eyes as they look at you, of the stifling press of bodies that aren't even that close to you. Handing your drink to Jongho, you tell them that you're heading to the toilet.

You take the long way around San's living room. It's partly to avoid the area that you know he is in, and partly because you can feel Mingi's eyes boring into the side of you head. Skirting around the sofa - which is somehow crammed with triple the amount of people it's designed to fit - you wave at Yeosang, who's glaring at you from where he's half squashed under San.

In the bathroom, it's a lot quieter, the thumping bass from Hongjoong's playlist and the hum of voices muffled by the closed door. You glance at yourself at the mirror; you're confronted with your own slightly downturned mouth.

Well, you promised Wooyoung you'd come, not that you'd be happy about it.

After a few minutes, you deem it time for you to emerge again. Schooling your features into something a little more cheerful, you step out of the bathroom, only to be ambushed by the one and only Song Mingi. You sigh. You know what he's here to say, you know he's your friend and he means well, but still, you can't help but feel the beginnings of annoyance bubble up within you. Immediately, you push it down. None of it was Mingi's fault.

'Hi, Mingi,' you say, unable to erase the hint of tiredness in your tone.

'How are you?' He asks, concern bleeding into his features.

'I'm doing alright,' you reply, knowing he sees through you easily enough. 'Haven't been sleeping too well, though.'

Scratching the back of his head, he looks at you apologetically. 'Look, you know what I'm going to say.'

You sigh. 'Go on.'

'You're both my friends,' he sighs. 'It sucks to see you both sad. Yunho's been beating himself up about it for weeks, ever since it happened, and... I know you miss him too. Please, just give him a second chance.'

You blink. It's the first time someone's mentioned him by name tonight, and the pain wells up in you again, fresh and cutting, ripping away the hazy walls of apathy that you'd struggled so hard to build around yourself. Maybe it's fitting that Mingi is the one who causes them to crumble; before everything went to hell with Yunho, it was always you three who hung out together the most, who relied on each other and supported each other, no matter what. It was the closest thing to perfect you've had in your life.

Then Yunho had to ruin it.

He was too heavy handed when he had your heart in his grasp, he was too careless with the trust you'd put in him. Of course you miss him, of course it hurt when you tore him out from he'd been embedded in your life, nestled into the softest part of you heart. Of course you hate avoiding him, but you hate how you let him hurt you more. You refuse to let him in again, just to make the same mistake.

Slowly, you shake your head. Swallowing around the bitterness on your tongue, you look up at Mingi, a deep sadness springing up inside you at the despondency in his eyes. Your voice sounds disembodied, the words far away as you speak.

'I'm sorry, Mingi. I don't think I can do that.'

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

After your talk with Mingi, you begin to see getting as drunk as San in a more favourable light. You let Wooyoung shove exactly two shots down your gullet before you realise that tonight, alcohol isn't going to help you; the shots are acrid in your throat, and the deep throb of the bass - which you normally enjoy - is beginning to give you a headache. Defeated and deflated like a rather morose balloon, you tell Jongho that you're going to get a glass of water.

You realise you've misplayed as soon as you step into the kitchen.

He's there.

Yunho.

Digging your nails into your palms, you jerk your head aprubtly to the side to avoid his eyes as they search for yours. There's no way you're backing out of the kitchen because he's here, there's no way you're so weak that you can't stand the sight of him. Determined, you turn your back to him, reaching into the cupboard to grab a glass, filling it up and sipping at the water. You can feel his eyes burning into your back, and this time you can't help yourself.

A glance over your shoulder is all it takes for the sudden onslaught of memories. Months of dates and years of friendship flash before you, tugging your heart this way and that. He stands there, propped against the counter, his brown eyes anchored on you, his lips half parted as if he's about to speak, and all you can see in him is scene after bittersweet scene: Yunho holding your waist in a crowd, Yunho dancing with you around the living room at two in the morning, Yunho making you laugh until you can't breathe, Yunho holding you tight as you cry, Yunho with his pretty lips on yours, Yunho with his beautiful hands on your body, Yunho telling you that he loves you, Yunho, Yunho, Yunho.

And then it's Yunho, bathed in morning light as he lies in bed beside you, his features serious and solemn and deceptively honest as he tells you the sweetest words you've ever heard in your life.

Finally, it's Yunho the traitor, seen across a crowded, badly lit club on the same day, Mingi beside him, disbelieving as he gapes at your boyfriend kissing a girl, a girl who is not you, who could not even be mistaken for you. You've replayed the scene many times in your head, the way he looked up, catching your eyes as you turned to walk away. He caught up with you in the street, and you had the worst arguement of your life in a seedy, dark alleyway, refusing to let him touch you as you cradled the broken pieces of your heart to your chest - it was no longer his to have.

Looking at him now, he looks different; like your Yunho, but tired. There are bags under his eyes - at least you aren't the only one losing sleep - and his hands clench and unclench at his sides, his jaw working as he searches for words. Carefully, you set your glass down on the counter, crossing your arms.

'I...' He starts, but trails off.

Something ignites in your chest as you watch him fumble over words, stumbling over unfinished sentences. Anger burns bright inside you, a potent mix of frustration and longing and bitter sorrow welling up like poison, making you want to hurt him like he hurt you, demanding retribution. All you can see his lips on hers, and it fucking stings.

'Why are you talking to me?' You ask lowly, voice frosty.

Yunho takes a step closer. 'I - I'm sorry. I miss you - so fucking much. I want you back, I need you. I just wish I could make it right so we could - '

'If you want me back so badly, why did you kiss her?' You hiss. 'Did you forget about me in that moment? Or did you just not care?'

He sighs, raking a hand through his hair. 'I, I know I fucked up, badly, and - '

You scoff. You're too angry, too raw, to care about the anguish on his face. He doesn't understand: he doesn't understand that he broke your trust and your heart and you, he doesn't understand that his apology is too late - it was late the moment he touched that girl.

'Fucked up badly?' You snap, incredulous. 'Just badly? Do you remember what you said that morning, on the very same day, while we were still in bed? Do you remember what you told me? You said that you were really serious. You said that one day you were going to marry me. Do you know how happy I was, thinking that you wanted to spend the rest of your life with me?' You throw your hands up in the air. 'Well, I guess it was all a shitty lie.'

Yunho staggers back as if you actually punched him. His eyes are wounded as they search yours, and he steadies himself against the counter, gripping it so hard his knuckles bleed white. Clenching his jaw, he stares at you, speechless, and you know that you succeeded in your mission to hurt him. It doesn't feel as good as you thought it would.

Then, the kitchen door swings open.

A swell of music spills inside, along with a very tipsy looking girl. Laughter floats through from the living room. Both you and Yunho just look at her, forgetting that you were arguing in San's kitchen, at a party, and she returns your gazes, bewildered as she looks between the two of you.

'Uh, sorry, I didn't know I was interrupting something. I'll, I'll come back later?'

You force yourself to smile, despite it being the expression your features least want to make right now, your voice surprisingly steady. 'Don't worry, you're alright, come in. We should probably go somewhere else.'

'Yeah,' she mumbles, quickly retreating and firmly shutting the door despite your words.

You glance over to Yunho. His hands are shaking as he lifts them, pressing the heels of his palms to his eyes, and all the fight leaves you at the sight. For all the years you've known him, he's cried maybe four or five times. Your stomach churns with guilt. You caused his tears.

'Hey,' you say softly. 'Do you want to go somewhere more private?'

He nods, his voice thick when he speaks. 'Y - yeah, my car's two minutes away. It's in the multi-storey car park.'

'Okay,' you sigh. 'Let's go.'

He's silent as you rinse out your glass and put it on the dish rack, wiping your hands on your trousers. Ducking your head, you weave your way to the front door, slipping past Wooyoung and avoiding Yeosang and Mingi's eyes as they stare at you, surprise evident in their features as they spot Yunho trailing you. You don't want to consider what they must be thinking at the look on his face. There's no chance that they won't miss the pain in his expression, and you feel sick, burdened with the knowledge that you were petty enough to sharpen your words to deadly points and wield them like weapons.

You remain silent as you walk with him to the car park - he doesn't keep in step with you, instead hovering a few paces behind. The quiet swallows you whole, smothering any rage left in your system, and you hold the lift for him, retreating to the opposite corner as he reaches out to press the button for the top floor.

Out of the corner of your eye, you study him in the scratched mirror. Although you don't dare look up at his face, you can feel his gaze, and a lump forms in the back of your throat, thinking of how many times you've been tucked under his arm in the lift to his apartment, his long fingers stroking down your side.

Harshly, you swallow, reminding yourself that you can't let him in.

You can't open your heart, just for it to be broken again.

Despite this, you find your gaze straying over his reflection. He must have left his jacket at San's, because all he has on is his black t-shirt and jeans, the former of which is slightly damp down the front - someone probably spilt their drink on him, and the fabric clings to his skin in a way that makes you yearn to press him against the wall and kiss him until you're both dizzy. One of his hands is shoved in his jeans pockets; you desperately wish that you could slip your fingers in with his, just to feel his warmth and his skin against yours. Even under the crappy lift lights, he's beautiful, as beautiful as ever. It's how you've always seen him, how you always will.

The top floor of the car park is open, and during the time you were in the lift, it's begun to rain. You begin shivering, and out of your peripheral, you see Yunho lift his hand before he pulls it back quickly, as if he was going to reach out to you and tug you close before he thought better of it.

His car is the only one there, seeing as it's well into the night, and he unlocks it as you walk towards it. Hesitating with your fingers on the passenger door handle, you pause, debating with yourself - he hovers on the driver's side, watching as you deliberate before choosing the backseat.

You don't want to admit it, but you want to be closer to him.

Within seconds, you're sitting next to him in the back of his car, and you're faced with the looming need to pick up your disaster of a conversation where you left off; raising your eyes to find his, relief washes through you to find them steady, the emotions in them whirling and a total mess, but not too overwhelming.

Closing your eyes, you take a deep breath, bracing yourself to ask the question that's been on the tip of your tongue all night. You tell yourself that you can do this, that you can pretend this doesn't hurt as much as it does, but it's quickly proven a lie when your voice comes out weak and smaller than you'd like.

'Why - why did you do it?'

A haunted look enters his eyes as he scrubs a hand over his face.'I... I don't know. She pulled me down, and I just didn't move, I just let her, because it was nice to feel wanted - ' His voice cracks. ' - even though you had always given me so much more than that. You loved me and I fucked it up. I took you for granted and - '

Harshly, he swallows, cutting himself off. His words are rushed, tight, his hands fisted in his lap as he looks away for a second, breaking eye contact and staring out into the car park as he steels himself. You're reeling from his words, from the painful honesty that laces them, like poison on a blade. There's no doubt that, even with your walls up, you still love him, because his desperation is like a knife twisted in your heart - hesitantly, you reach out, wanting to touch him, to comfort him somehow. In response, he grabs your hand, almost crushing it in his grip.

'Please,' he whispers brokenly. 'I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I - I just need you to let me love you again. I never wanted to hurt you, I - '

'But you did, Yunho,' you reply softly, grief making your voice thick and unsteady.

His face crumples. Bringing his trembling hands to his face, he turns away to hide the tears spilling down his face, and regret shoots through you like a bullet through the heart. Gripping his hand, you pull him to face you, but suddenly you can't stop, won't stop, tugging him closer until he's in your arms. It feels so right to share space with him, and you wonder why you ever tried to get over him and push him away when he's all you ever wanted, when he's your home. Sobs wrack his body, and you press your lips to his forehead, your own tears running down your cheeks into his hair as you tighten your arms around him.

'You hurt me, Yunho,' you choke out. 'I can't deny you hurt me. But it hurt because I loved you, and I love you now. I loved you when you kissed her, and I hated myself for it, but I guess my heart knew who it was made for, because I never stopped loving you.'

His chest heaves, a great shudder running through him, and he trembles, a giant felled by your sweet, healing words. He presses his lips against your shoulder, tasting the salt of his own tears in the wet material of your shirt; his fingers twine into your hair, and you can feel the effort it takes for him to get his words out between his rattling sobs in the strain of his voice, but he does.

'I - I missed you with every breath I took while you were gone,' he says. 'I lost the best part of me when you left. I love you, I'm a fucking fool, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry - '

Gently, you press a finger against his lips, making him look up at you. His words don't matter any more, not while he's in your arms and not while you know that you should have never let him go, that you should have never let either of you try to live without the other.

'I missed you too, Yunho,' you murmur. 'And I will never stop loving you.'

At your words, he goes completely still. He's frozen for a moment, his face inches from yours. A shiver runs down his back, and his eyes dart down to your lips.

'Can I - fuck - I need - '

He's taut as a bow string, thrumming with energy, and you can see the desperation on his face - he needs your lips on his as much as he needs to breathe. And yet, he still asks. You know then, with every fibre of your being, that he's what you want, that he's the only one you'll ever want, ever love.

'Yes,' you breathe. 'Yes.'

Cold moonlight limns his features as he leans in, but there's nothing cold about the look in his eyes. One hand cups your jaw, the other cupping the nape of your neck, his long fingers warm against your skin - his breath flutters softly against your lips before he closes the gap between you. The breath is knocked from you; he's never kissed you with this sort of aching tenderness, and you sink into his touch, eyes drifting shut.

You feel like you're falling again, the way you did the first time, when you'd rant to Mingi for hours about the smallest touch or moment you shared with Yunho, except this time, you lean into the tug of gravity with an eagerness you've never felt before. Like before, you teeter on the edge of a precipice, except, this time, you know what's at the bottom; you know the exhiliration of the fall, and the deep, aching love that awaits.

You jump, arms outstretched, knowing Yunho will catch you.

After you kiss Yunho for what seems like hours, running your hands up his back and burying them into his hair, pressing him closer to you and drinking him in, he drives you home. You're still drunk on his taste as you curl into him on your sofa, talking to him about nothing in particular, just soaking in the euphoria of being in his arms again; truly, you don't notice that your words become further and further apart, and that your eyes are drooping - you're too busy listening to the soft timbre of his voice.

Nothing matters to you in this moment. It's just you and him, wonderfully relaxed against each other, not allowing an inch of space between you. Honestly, you're unsure where you end and Yunho begins.

Your heart is overflowing.

You're home.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Yunho isn't quite aware what the words leaving his mouth mean. He's too busy studying the tilt of your neck and the way your lashes fall against your face, relearning the essence of you. A smile tugs at his lips when you finally succumb to sleep, head flopping against his chest. It reminds him of the many occurences when you'd fall asleep on him while watching movies: the times before he asked you out, when he'd carefully hold you, his heart pounding in his ears, and the times after, where he'd cradle you to him, peppering kisses all over your face.

Gently, he gathers you up in his arms and carries you to your bed, laying you down and tucking the blanket from the sofa over you - he knows you hate to get under the sheets without a shower and your so called 'outside clothes' off. Planning to quietly return to his car, Yunho straightens, but a small tug at the bottom of his shirt prevents him from standing up all the way. A glance down finds your fingers fisted in the hem of the black fabric; blearily, you blink your eyes at him, peeking out from beneath the blanket.

'Stay,' you mumble. 'Please.'

Yunho's heart flutters in his chest. You're beautiful, even with your hair a mess and your eyes and face still a little red from crying, and he could never resist you. He thinks he'd do anything for you, if you'd dare ask.

This time, he's determined that he's going to marry you. He wants to be yours forever - he wants to wake up by your side every morning, he wants to come home to you, he wants to tell you he loves you in your every waking moment.

Sitting down on the mattress beside you, he lets you clamber into his arms and snuggle into his chest.

'Whatever you say, my love.'

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

When you wake up the next day, you're utterly relaxed. It's as if your body knows that you're in the safest place you could ever be - in Yunho's arms. His breathing is still deep, his hair a mess, the way it always is in the mornings. You don't think you've ever felt this comfortable; the mattress seems to cradle your back, the blankets a warm cocoon around you, and Yunho is draped over you, his long limbs tangled with yours.

Smiling dumbly, you kiss his fluffed up hair, carding your fingers through it. A soft laugh leaves you when you realise his mouth is half open and that he's drooling on you, his cheek pressed against your shoulder.

Extracting one arm from beneath the blankets, you scrabble around your bedside for your phone. Yunho makes a soft sleepy noise, a frown digging into his forehead, and you hush him, rubbing his back soothingly; you're terribly relaxed right now, and you don't want to get up just yet.

In fact, you're pretty sure you want to stay like this forever.

Quickly, you snap a few pictures of him on your phone, unable to resist. Scrolling through your notifications from last night, you find a text from Mingi, asking how you are - he doesn't ask why you left the party with Yunho yesterday, or how it went, but his curiosity is still evident. You open the chat, a grin making its way onto your face.

Second chance granted, you type.

And then you throw your phone back onto your bedside table, ready to enjoy your morning with the man stirring in your arms. Yunho huffs quietly as he surfaces from his dreams, his long arms tightening around you; he buries his face into your neck, pressing a sweet kiss there, then another and another. Threading your fingers into his hair, your eyes close as he mouths at the hollow of your throat. He shifts so he's more comfortably situated between your legs, and you kiss his temple.

'Mm,' you hum contentedly. 'Morning.'

'Morning, love,' he replies.

His voice is raspy - deep and familiar as it always is in the morning. A memory comes to you: one of the many mornings you spent with him in bed, the sheets tangled around your legs with his skin on yours, and your stomach flips, warm longing bubbling up inside you. Gently, you tug at his hair, and he responds immediately, something that you suspect was already semi-hard nudging at your core before he shifts back quickly.

You frown as he pulls back a little. Searching his eyes, which have brightened a good deal since he first blinked them open, you examine them for any caution, but all you find is a deep seated fire.

'What's up?' You ask softly, cupping his face.

He turns his head so he can kiss your palm. 'I - I want to... but I don't want to do anything too fast if you don't want it. I know I hurt you.'

Leaning in, you press your forehead against his. 'Fuck going slow, Yunho. I love you. You know I do.'

It feels wonderful to say. The infatuation soaking the words is sweet on your tongue, magnificently domestic, something you missed saying to him every day, whispering it into his hair and against his lips like an oath. You feel like you're floating, a thrum of heat flushing through your body at the look in his eyes. He's tense, his muscles rock hard under your hands, his gaze transfixed on yours. Slowly, his lips part.

'Sweetheart,' he murmurs, leaning in to kiss your neck. 'You're driving me insane.' His touch travels to your cheek, his breath ghosting over your skin. 'I love you. More than you could ever know.'

He holds your gaze for a moment, and you find yourself mesmerised by him - his hair's a mess and his t-shirt is rumpled and emotions burn in his eyes, setting you on fire.

Fuck, he's glorious.

You grab his chin, fitting your lips to his. Yunho reciprocates like a man starved, his tongue licking into your mouth, hot and wet, his fingers curling around your waist and bringing your body snug against his - your head falls back against the pillows, eyes drifting closed when his hands trail teasingly up your body to cup your breasts, pushing up the hem of your shirt. Dipping his head, he nips at your skin, and you wouldn't stop the way your hips buck up into his even if you could.

A soft noise leaves your throat when his fingers ghost over your core, and he chuckles softly; you groan his name, nails scratching lightly at his shoulder, spurring him on as gently, he pushes your legs open, smoothly moving down the bed so that he's framed between your thighs.

He keeps his gaze on yours as he slips your underwear off you, a smirk tugging at his lips when a shudder wracks your body at the first touch of his fingers on your slit, your back arching - you'd be embarrassed, but there's liquid fire in your veins, and all you can think of is him.

'Fuck, Yunho,' you choke out. 'Fuck.'

'You like that?' He teases, slipping a finger inside.

A whine rips from your chest. You clamp tightly around him, vice like, and he begins to pump his fingers in and out, his lower lip trapped under his teeth as he watches your face contort in pleasure. Wickedly, he curls his fingers inside you, sending bolts of pleasure shooting white hot through you, his carnal expression turning almost sadistic, as if he's studying the exact angle at which your eyes roll back.

On your bedside table, your phone dings once, then three times more in quick succession. You know it's Mingi.

You ignore it. There are more pressing matters at hand, slotted right between your legs and littering feather light kisses on your thighs.

[lostintransist]

Secrets Are For Grown Ups | Part 5

Part 1 can be found here.

CW: Big emotions™, slight confrontation of bad parenting but vague. LMK if I missed anything.

Shout out to @xbirdiex, I do agree that Simon is at beekeeping age.

John nearly walked into you when he stepped from the spare room.

“Heading to talk to Johnny and Simon. I’ll probably spend the rest of the day with them.” He studies your concerned face, hands wringing your keys between your fingers. “I will text when I will be back so you know whether to lock the door or not.”

“Thanks, John. And thank you again for coming so fast.” You scrunch your nose and swallow as if fighting back the idea of tears.

Nodding once he gestures for you to lead the way down the stairs to the front door. John is sure to pull open the door from behind you and walk you to your car, waving you off as you disappear from sight. He enjoys the short walk between your home and his men’s.

John preferred having a plan. That is how he kept people safe for as long as he had. He still regretted the loss of Johnny’s leg as a personal failure. He had come in part to check in on his men. Despite the discharges they both still belonged to him. He had shed to much snot, blood, tears, and sweat for them to not be his. He had no plan here. It sat uncomfortably close to the growing knowledge that something had happened right under his nose.

Simon answers when John knocks. This layout of a home is quite different than yours. The front door here opens to a split in the stairs, the left side heading up and the right side heading down. Johnny stands at the top of the stairs, a warm smile on his face, he greets you first.

“Come in Cap. Let me show you around.”

Clapping Simon on the arm John steps around the broad man to head up the stairs.

“Si, are you heading back to your cave?”

Halfway up the stairs, John turns back to see Simon roll his eyes.

“Not a cave, but yes,” he bounces down the steps to the basement, turning left before the soft click of a shutting door drifts up to them.

Johnny rolls his eyes, “It’s a cave but he likes it. Thanks for coming Cap.”

The men embrace, only love and respect between them.

“I come when called, you know that MacTavish,” John pulls Johnny’s forehead to his own with a hand on the back of the neck. “Why didn’t you call sooner?”

“I barely remember to call my mum, much as she hates it,” Johnny straightened, rubbing a hand down his amputated leg.

John let it go, knowing that the distance of time had not been intentional.

“Why don’t you show me your home then? And tell me what have you been up to since we spoke last?”

The smile that breaks over his face would only ever remind John of Mac, his son. He didn’t say that though, keeping that brand of hurtful joy to himself.

“Home first, as you can see behind you is the living room,” Johnny hooked a thumb over his shoulder, “This is the kitchen. If you come down this way I will show you the rest before we go down to bother Simon.”

There is almost no limp in Johnny’s steps as he leads the way.

“Bathroom, main bedroom, my studio,” Johnny touches each door at the end of the hall. They are close enough to touch two at a time.

“Studio? You been pursuing your art?” John lifts a brow at the prospect. Sergeant MacTavish had guarded his sketchbooks fiercer than anything he learned with his clearances.

Hand on the doorknob Johnny threw back a cheeky grin at John.

“I’m a children’s book illustrator now.”

Throwing open the door John followed his man in, eyes drawn to the walls immediately. They were covered in paintings and drawings. Several were covers or pages directly from a children’s book. They contrasted nicely against the dark green paint and the dark wood desk that spanned two walls and a corner of the smallish room. Chaos reigned at the desk, a computer and a black mat, papers half drawn on and colored with pencils strewn across them. One corner away from the chaos a bit sat a small frame. A dragon lay curled around a dinner roll, peering up at the viewer with mournful eyes.

“That was my first commission.” Johnny picks it up, “I wouldn’t have even submitted for it without Simon making me a bet that I wouldn’t.”

John laughed, hands falling to his hips as he did.

“You and Simon were always great at pushing the other’s buttons.”

Johnny smiled ruefully as he set the frame in its place carefully.

“Want to see what I am working on currently?” He glanced at John as he asked.

“I would be happy to see anything you are working on.”

The brilliance of the smile that Johnny gave him had been missing from John’s life for far longer than the man himself had. They wile away a solid amount of time going through Johnny’s works. John can feel nothing but pride swell in his breast.

The knock at the door surprised both Johns. Simon stood in the doorway, kitchen towel rubbing over his hands.

“Lunch is ready. Want to see my bees after lunch?”

Lifting both brows John nods. Bees? Well, who would have thought?

The three of them trail out to the table, set off to the side of the kitchen with a view out the back sliding glass door and into the living room. John dishes himself a chicken breast still steaming in BBQ sauce, a heaping scoop of rice, and a salad to round out the plate.

They reminisced as the food did its job. John even managed to catch Simon with a joke that had him choking and reaching for his glass of water. It had become a personal point of pride to pull a funny over on the man who had dad jokes on lock. John only held the slightest bit of resentment for Simon’s joke after the sarin exposure.

Settling back against the chair with his hands folded over his stomach John watched Simon and Johnny. They were happy. Truly and deeply happy.

“She is willing to talk.”

All the happiness he had watched disappeared behind their soldier faces. The last time he had seen these looks had been that final briefing for the job that took Johnny’s leg.

“When?” Simon fires his question at the table.

“As soon as tomorrow, though it has to be a school day. She wants to discuss everything and lay out some ground rules before you can meet them.”

Glancing from man to man he finds Simon grinding his molars. Man did that even when wearing his Ghost mask, that sound never quite muffled enough to be ignored. Johnny stares at his plate, blood leeching from his knuckles as he grips his fork.

Sitting forward John laces his fingers. Resting his elbows to the table he leans his chin on them.

“She is willing to work with you. Says she has told the boys since birth her late husband was their father but he didn’t help create them.”

“Did she say what her conditions were?” Johnny’s voice is tight as it escapes.

“She didn’t but I imagine that will come up in the chat. I know you haven’t called your mum recently Johnny but she is picking Nyla up from the airport about now.”

John watches, face impassive as Johnny stumbles up from the table. Turning on a heel he flings open the sliding glass door and stomps down the steps into the back garden.

“I would think he would avoid having stairs with his amputation,” John observes casually.

Simon’s eyes stay trained on the door and the distant figure of his husband, shoulders hunched.

“He likes the views here. Said it would be worth tackling the stairs until his good knee goes out,” Simon puts a hand on the back of his chair to stand.

“Let me,” John pushes his plate more to the center of the table. He shuts the sliding glass door behind him as he follows the sounds of weeping.

John watches. He waits to see if Johnny will notice he is not alone as he hunches into the shade of an apple tree. When he doesn’t John steps past him to sit in the grass and lean against the fence.

“Would you like to know what I’ve learned about your boy so far?”

The glare that Johnny levels him would have boiled his brain in his skull. John only blinks and pulls out a cigar from a pocket, lighting it before taking a long drag.

“Noah MacTavish goes by Mac because there are three Noahs in his class including him, was born August 2nd. He and his brother were premature; spent a month in the hospital before coming home. His first word was cheese, though he won’t touch the stuff currently.” John doesn’t look up from the middle distance where he settles his eyes.

Johnny wipes his eyes and settles next to John.

“His favorite colors in order, are green, brown, blue. He loves Minecraft and science. He and his brother have different teachers at school and he can write his name and all of his letters. He is finishing up first grade. He is silly and kind and he reminds me a lot of you.”

Peripheral vision tells John that Johnny is struggling with tears again. Fist to his mouth to hold in the sobs, thighs bunching and relaxing.

“Why did she call my mum?” He finally asks.

“I imagine she created room in their lives for more than just a few fathers. They have three grandmothers beyond Nyla and a plethora of aunts, uncles, and cousins. More love won’t hurt those boys,” John puffs away on his cigar, knowing that they would be banned at your home without having to ask. You always chided him for smoking at all when you delivered him reports.

When John has finished his cigar and Johnny does not seem ready to rise he stamps out the butt on the sole of his shoe and rises.

“I’m going to find Simon.”

Johnny pulls at the grass within reach.

“He will be in his leather working room, down the stairs, first door on the left.” Johnny has been drained of emotion, the lack leaking into his words.

John nodded once, despite knowing Johnny wouldn’t see, and headed into the house. He found Simon exactly where described. In contrast to the deep greens of Johnny’s studio Simon’s room had been bathed in pale yellow, daisies appeared around the border of the room sitting atop the baseboards.

Head held in his hands Simon’s shoulders shuttered. Settling a hand along one shoulder John waited. Breath stilled under his hand before Simon leaned into him, nearly pushing him off balance in his bid for connection.

“Jace Riley is a clever little boy who does not have to fight demons to keep his mother safe. He and his brother were early, arriving on August the second. He loves to play with slime, much to his mother’s dismay. He plays video games and Legos with his brother. They share a room and for all their differences can make the other giggle hard and long, often past bedtime when they try to avoid sleeping.”

Simon tucked his elbows to his thighs, hunching over his arms even as he leaned harder. John moved a hand across the back he touched, offering comfort in the way that had been established between them so long ago.

“He loves trying to make everyone laugh. He is not good at jokes yet but tries anyway. He sleeps with a nightlight to find the bathroom at night, not to chase away monsters under the bed. He will love you when he gets to meet you. You will not be your father or your brother Simon.”

Crying continues for a long while, John rubs his back until all that remains is the aftershocks of emotion rippling through his muscles.

“I heard once that long ago people would tell their secrets to the bees. Why don’t we collect Johnny and give them a visit to tell them some tales?”

Rising Simon crushes his former captain in a hug. John reciprocates, knowing that whether he wanted to be or not, he is the closest thing Simon has to a father.

John herds his men to the car. He follows Simon’s directions to a property nearly an hour outside the city. Flowers carpet the landscape the closer they get to the property. Parking where directed John takes in the swath of natures beauty and the pollinators that drift lazily from bloom to bloom. They spend a long time with the bees. The busy ladies with their gentle buzzing help to center all three men. John fires off a text to you, letting you know he will be home late. On the drive home from the property where Simon houses his bees, the conversation drifts to the goal of meeting the boys.

Ideas are thrown around like what could you want from them, will you use the boys against them like they have seen happen to others. John has no answers to these questions. He has not pried, not wanting to put himself anywhere but neutral in the upcoming talk. Watching Simon reach across the center console for Johnny’s hand pricked at his heart. He had yet to find a lasting love. His first wife left him wary to try again, he was still paying alimony.

At Johnny’s suggestion, they pick up food on the drive home. Happier conversations overtake the melancholy of the day as they eat. John regales the pair of the shenanigans that Gaz and Roach are up to now since he gets a bi-weekly update from them. When dinner is cleaned up Simon chooses a Fast & Furious movie to round out the night. Johnny snuggles into his lover on the couch; John takes the recliner to avoid getting kicked when Johnny invariably stretches out. Their home warmed John, filled with love and their years stolen back from the devil. When he leaves, the husbands wave to him from the door. The deadbolt being sent home accompanies him on the walk back to your door.

Tapping lightly John waits. When you open the door you look up at him, concern plastered across your brows.

“How did it go?”

“Well enough. They will meet with you on Monday.”

You blow out an unsteady breath before nodding.

“Thank you, John. I don’t know how I could have done this without you.”

Dropping a kiss on the top of your head John moves past you to head up the stairs.

“Anything for you dove.”

The floral scent of your shampoo clings to his olfactories, reminding him of the glade him as he settles into bed.

Part 4 | Part 6

Secrets Masterlist | Masterlist

Taglist: @love-kha1 @bdbdhshhs @vmaxis @splaterparty0-0 @momowhoo @talia-the-gemini @redkarmakai @aethelwyneleigh27 @asexualbuthorny @sleep101 @callsignbumblebee @lucienofthelakes

[portraitofalinkonfyre]

Burning Love

Chapter 8

Main Masterlist | Fic Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

It was a beautiful morning.

You lay in bed, staring at the ceiling as Four snoozed beside you. One of his legs had managed to hook over yours during the night, pulling you impossibly closer, but you couldn't have cared less.

It was rare that things went your way in life, which was probably why the moment felt like a dream come true. Your thoughts kept circling back to the moment he admitted his love for you, and it took everything in you not to squeal like a child.

He loved you, and, well, you found that you loved him too. It had seemed impossible, considering the circumstances, but there was no way in hell you were going to complain now.

"Mmm..." a sleepy groan left Four's mouth, and his hand tightened around your shoulder, as if he was testing whether you were real or not. Earthy green eyes blinked open, and you couldn't deny the rush of heat shooting down your spine when his first instinct was to smile up at you. "Morning."

"Morning," you echoed, shifting slightly to test the wound on your side. When only the dullest of aches could be felt, you grinned. "I think I'm on the mend."

"Yeah?" He hummed. "I'm glad."

"So am I," you thought back to a certain one of his admissions last night. "Someone's gotta figure out what's going on with you."

You felt Four's grimace before you saw it. "...Right."

"Sooo," you dragged the word on as long as you could. "Are you going to tell me or do I have to guess first?"

There was silence; a long, embarrassed silence that did nothing but intrigue you further.

"...How much do you know about the Minish race?" He asked, still half-hiding in your neck.

You blinked, unable to comprehend why he kept bringing it up; you weren't going to judge him. "I– well, they're mice-like creatures that only good children can see, right?"

"Er, not mice, but the rest is true," he sighed and you resisted the urge to pat yourself on the back. "They're... known for having strange reactions to emotions, specifically...."

"Love?" you finished, brain swirling with vague ideas of where this was going.

"That's one of them," Hylia, he sounded so nervous that your heart couldn't help but ache. "When a Minish loves, it's... it's not something that can be defined so easily. They're driven to do anything for their love, even if it means hurting themselves or others."

"You're not going to hurt me," you whispered, only to be met by a huff.

"That's what I said."

"Oh," you had no idea how to respond to that, so you pressed forward. "Is that what happened... you know?"

"Yes," Four answered, and, for a moment, you could have sworn his hands tightened like claws against your arm. "It's called a... rut."

You froze, a tidal wave of deja-vu washing over you at the use of the term. "That's– like a wolf?"

Four cringed against your neck, and you immediately regretted your previous choice of words. "Well, yes, but that's a... crude description of it," just as you blurted: "Oh my Hylia, I am so sorry."

A spark of electricity skittered down your spine at the gentle press of his lips against the base of your neck. "It's fine, I know you're new to this."

"Yeah..." you trailed off, still feeling bad about the accidentally racist comment. "But that doesn't excuse it."

"Don't worry about it," he murmured. "It sounds embarrassing, but it's still a part of my past."

You nodded, albeit sheepishly, and gathered your remaining strength to finish the blasted conversation: "What does that mean, then?"

"Pardon?"

"You said it was... like a wolf," Hylia, why did it sound so wrong to say?  "Does that mean...?"

There was silence as a shudder seemed to pass through Four's body.

"Four."

"...Yes."

You fell silent as the pieces began to form; the fever had only been a precursor to the change, and nearly a week had passed since symptoms first began to show, which meant he had been battling this alone for nearly that long.

"I'm so sorry," you breathed. The hand on your shoulder pulled back, and Four sat up in all his mussed-hair glory, expression slightly panicked, a noticeable waver in his tone when he spoke next.

"Don't apologize, I was the one who lied."

You shook your head, sitting up despite the leftover soreness. "I could have helped."

It was as if time had stopped. Four stared at you with more concentration than a starving man at a feast, and you felt a shiver of heat pool in your abdomen... until his expression shifted to one of hard resolve. "You know I can't–"

"Why not?" You countered swiftly before laying a hand on his shoulder. "You're not alone, Four, so tell me what I need to do."

But Four maintained his shell-shocked gaze, seeming to become more panicked at your admission. "You're injured–"

"Then get a healing potion," you challenged. "And don't you dare make excuses; we're fixing this. Now."

Four didn't know whether to kiss you or run away. Every bone in his body was screaming at him to take you then and there, while the cacophony of voices in his brain yelled that he was mad if he was truly considering doing something so reckless to you while you were recovering from a wound he failed to protect you from.

He made his decision when you leaned forward to plant a kiss on his lips, quickly cupping your face to pull you in for another. Your hands found his shoulders, kneading lightly at the strong flesh in a way that made him want to pin you down and show you just how much he loved you.

But that was dangerous. A rut was not to be trifled with, and he would sooner die than push you into anything you weren't comfortable with.

"Four," your voice, now deliciously breathy, called as you shifted closer, nearly chest to chest with him. His hands ached to feel your skin beneath them, stroking and teasing and making you scream–

You arched into him as the kiss deepened, followed by a lightly-pained whimper that had alarm bells dinging inside his head.

"Wait," Four mumbled against your lips and you paused, eyes widening slightly. "If we're– you need a potion."

"Okay," you responded with a smile, watching as he stumbled off the bed to the door. Four pushed the heavy wood open, scanning the hallway for any signs of the others, only relaxing when there was none to be found. He was about to dart over to Hyrule's room when his foot nudged something on the floor.

It was a health potion, conveniently placed next to the frame. Too convenient, Four realized when he picked it up, noticing the note tied to the neck of the glass, which read a scrawled rendition of what he could only guess were the words 'have fun'.

"Four? What's that?" You called from behind him, and Four quickly tore the note off, allowing it to fall to the ground as he retreated into the refuge that was your room. Your eyebrows flew up as soon as you registered what he was holding. "...Is that a potion?"

"It was outside," Four didn't bother hiding how he had come across the item, uncorking it and handing it to you. You downed the liquid like a champ, grimacing cutely at the taste. He took the empty bottle and set it on the nightstand before climbing back onto bed.

As soon as his knees touched the fabric, your hands were on him again, movements far steadier than they'd been before. Four leaned into your touch as you pressed a tender kiss to his forehead, then both cheeks, and finished off on the tip of his nose. You drew back, eyes studying his face with a calculated gleam that he couldn't wait to ruin. "How do we do this?"

"Like before," Four murmured, and your lips were on his again, an arm wrapping around his back while the other tangled in his unconfined hair. The air around the two of you felt as if it had ignited, setting his body ablaze as he kissed you.

Four could have stayed like this forever, until your gentle hands coaxed him into your lap, and he became painfully aware of the true scope of the predicament. Your abdomen pressed firmly against his arousal, and he could only whimper as more heat pooled in his pelvis.

You swallowed the noises with ease, fingers digging gently into the flesh of his thighs as you arched experimentally against him. A thick moan spilled into the kiss, and your grip tightened minutely as you broke apart, panting softly.

"Is that good?" you asked softly, and he nodded, feeling slightly sheepish, though it didn't last long when his hands flew to your shoulders, hips lightly rolling against your stomach. Four leaned forward to kiss the front of your neck, lips brushing your bobbing throat with as much tenderness as he could muster. You sighed breathily and pulled his hips closer.

"I'm not made of glass," you murmured, nipping the outer lobe of his long ear, and Four couldn't have been more in love. "So don't treat me like I am."

"I know," one of his hands skimmed your side through your tunic, passing directly over the wound. You shivered some, and he made his decision. "But I'm not going to hurt you."

"I know," you echoed, and there was something so tender about the way you looked at him; like he was something to be treasured... like he was your treasure. Four felt his throat go dry at the realization, and he became painfully aware of how right Twilight had been. He was going to have to do something real nice for the rancher when this was over. "Now c'mere."

Your fingers dipped under the hem of his tunic with a hushed: "is this okay?" Four nodded helplessly, and you lifted the fabric off of him in one fluid motion, though he felt slightly self-conscious as your eyes roved over his form. His figure had always been a bit of a sore subject, whether it be height or... other attributes, but he couldn't help but feel, well, he felt rather loved at the appreciative sheen in your eyes. "Has anyone ever told you how handsome you are?" was the first thing you murmured, and Four tried not to choke at the onslaught of emotion rushing through him.

"Once," he answered, feeling slightly bashful under your reservation-less gaze.

"Shame," Hylia, you were biting your lip. "What do you say we fix that?"

"How... do you propose we go about that?" He asked, knowing full-well what you meant. You grinned, pecking the tip of his nose.

"I have a few ideas."

The hand not glued to his thigh traveled slowly up his side with an almost featherlight touch, ghosting over the toned curve of his chest, and he let out a shaky exhale, shivering as a familiar tightness formed in his lower belly. You grasped him by the roots of his hair, and he could barely just stop the noise that threatened to spill from his lips when your other hand splayed directly over his abdomen, gingerly feeling the tight muscles. "Can I touch you here?"

"Y-Yeah," Four gulped thickly, nearly cutting himself off with a low moan of your name when you lightly cupped the bulge in his pants. Your answering chuckle rang in his ears, tongue darting out to flick the tip of his left ear.

Four swore under his breath as heat shot through his bones, licking hotly in every nook and cranny of his body. Your hand delivered a gentle squeeze to his clothed arousal, and, for a moment, he believed that you could very well have been a goddess sent from above to reward him for his sacrifices, to soothe the aches of all the blood, sweat, and tears he spent protecting his home. "Please," he pleaded, and you took mercy, slipping your hand beneath his waistband to free his throbbing cock, only to wrap your hand around the swollen length.

Four keened at the feeling of your soft, warm hand enveloping him like it was the most natural thing in the world. His hands shot to wrap around your back, burying his face in your clothed chest while you laughed softly. "Feels good?"

As if you even had to ask, Four thought as you began to pump your hand experimentally. The hand in his hair kept his face firmly nuzzled between the sloping flesh of your breasts, and he wanted nothing more than to taste your bare, salty skin under his tongue. Preferably with your beneath him, calling his true name in a delicious haze of pleasure while he pounded deep into you. His teeth ached to bury themselves in the meat of your shoulder, marking you as his for as long as this lifetime would allow, but he forced himself to focus on the positively sinful motion of your equally sinful hand, muffling his noises in the solid warmth of your sternum. "Please, (Y/n)–"

"It's okay, I've got you," you coaxed lovingly, pulling his head up to connect your lips once more. He was panting by the time you broke apart, a familiar coil tightening in his belly. "That's it," you cooed, and his orgasm hit him like one of Wild's bombs, thick ropes of cum spurting out to coat your hand and his stomach. Four buried his face in the junction between your neck and shoulder, wailing against your skin as you stroked him through his high. He felt boneless as the pleasure slowly faded, practically collapsing against your sweet body.

"Hylia..." he breathed, and you laughed airily.

"That good, huh?"

He didn't like how you said that; not because it was offensive or mean, but the clearness of your tone reminded his fading mind that you hadn't received anything in return for your efforts. Four frowned–there was no way in Hyrule he was letting that stand. "We're not done yet."

You blinked owlishly. "We're not?"

"No," Four intoned as he applied pressure to your shoulders, pushing you flat against the bed. You went willingly, staring up at him as he sat– no, perched, on your hips, holding your lower half down with his own. He leaned down, arms coming down to cage your upper half. "Now it's my turn."

You gulped thickly, a sure sign that you knew exactly where this was going, and he felt a rush of pride. Good. He wanted you to want him as he wanted you, to crave him as he craved you, to understand exactly what you had done to him... and to understand exactly how he was going to repay you.

"Do you have any idea what you do to me?" He asked, leaning down to press open-mouthed kisses down the slender column of your throat. "I can't think straight around you."

"That's funny," you responded breathlessly, giggling softly when his nose brushed the sensitive flesh. "I could say the same about you."

Four laughed against the base of your neck, delivering a soft nip to your clavicle. You jolted, cheeks flushing pink as you yelped, but you said nothing to refute the action. "Has anyone told you how amazing you are?" He asked, and you grinned.

"Once."

You laughed softly at the tail end of the word, and Four wanted to make you laugh for as long as you would let him.

His hands found the hem of your shirt, pulling it up far enough to reveal the bandaged expanse of your stomach. A twinge of guilt shot through him, but you seemed to anticipate his reaction quicker than he did. "It doesn't hurt," your hand cupped his cheek. "You gave me a potion, remember?"

He did, but it still felt wrong to–

"Four, I can hear you thinking from here," your voice tore him back to reality. "I'm fine, promise."

Four blinked, stared at the bandages once more, and took a deep breath. He trusted you enough to speak up for yourself, which was exactly what you were doing now, so how could he deny you? "You're right," his hands fiddled with the hem of your shirt, nestled just below your breasts. "Can I?"

You brought him in for a kiss, and it told him all he needed to know. Four brought the tunic up over your head, tossing it on the dresser with a grunt, leaving you in only your bindings and some leggings. He wanted those gone, and soon.

He began by dipping his head down, planting a steady kiss to your sternum, feeling the hard bone and smooth skin beneath his lips. His hands traveled up your sides until they reached your covered breasts, squeezing the mounds of flesh experimentally. You hissed and he swiped his thumbs curiously against your peaked nipples, and his tongue felt heavy at the thought of what else he could make your body do.

"F-Four," your hand tangled in his hair, clenching and unclenching in a way that sent shivers down his spine. "That... That's good."

"I know," he murmured, tongue tracing the small peak of your nipple over the bandages, and your chest shook as you giggled. "Tell me what you want."

"I want you," you responded, head falling back against the pillows with a soft sigh when his tongue swiped at your breast again, and it was everything he had ever wanted to hear.

Four hummed into the flesh of your breast, fingers tugging at the edges of your bindings. They needed to go. Now. He was just about to apply pressure when you gasped, batting his hands away. "Don't you dare! Do you know how long it took me to tie this?"

A whine that surprised even him slipped past Four's lips, but he dutifully sat back on your hips, hands still poised on your ribcage. "I can–" he began, only to have his hands batted away again.

"Nu uh, butts are for sitting," you sat up, hands reaching back to undo the bandages, and he was suddenly in your lap again, leaking cock bobbing insistently between your bare abdomens. "Don't even try to pretend you weren't going to tear them."

"I wasn't..." he said, like a liar, sitting obediently as you pulled the bindings from your chest, revealing your glorious breasts to his eager gaze.

"Oh, shut up," you cut in, though there was no real heat behind your words, not that he particularly cared when you leaned forward, inadvertently pressing his face directly into your tits. Four's hands immediately shot up to cup the sensitive flesh, relishing in the way your breathing deepened. His mouth watered as images of your breasts, dripping with spit and reddened from the attention he was about to lavish them with. "Ah-- Four."

"Yes?" He asked through a face-full of boob.

"You can... um, use your mouth," you trailed off, averting your eyes with a deepening flush.

Well, since you asked so nicely...

Four dove in with gusto, capturing a hardened nipple in his mouth while his fingers worked slowly against the other nub. You threw your head back with a soft whimper, hands gripping his shoulders tightly, and he took the opportunity to push you back down on the mattress, chest-to-stomach as he suckled on your trembling breast.

"Mmph!" You slung an arm over your eyes, and Four felt himself frown, capturing your wrist and yanking your arm above your head, holding it there. You yelped, but he merely sucked harder, scraping his teeth gently over your pebbled nipple, and a shocked moan left your parted lips. Good; he would be damned if he missed any one of your noises.

"Please," you groaned, the sound traveling straight to his cock. Your nipple slipped from his mouth with a lewd pop, and Four scooted up your body to press your lips together for the nth time. He could only imagine the noises you would make when he was buried deep inside you, and he was hellbent on discovering them.

"What is it?" He asked when you separated, gaze never faltering from your half-lidded one. Your flush darkened, eyes averting sheepishly, and he knew he had struck gold. "You can tell me," he coaxed, toying lightly with your nipple.

You bit your lip, and it was the hottest thing he had ever seen. "I... I want–"

"Use your words," Four encouraged, partly because he wanted to know what you wanted and partly because he liked seeing you squirm beneath him. He kissed the corner of your mouth, but you turned your head to close the gap once more. When you pulled away, he was pleased to see the look of resolve dawning in your eyes.

"I want you to touch me," you said, and he was more than happy to oblige, sitting up slightly to slide one of his hands over the seam of your leggings, drawing a pleased rumble from the depths of your chest. You sat up on your elbows, face flushed darker than he'd ever seen it. "Can you... my pants?"

Right. Pants. Four looked down and realized you weren't the only overdressed one here. Wobbling slightly, he slid to the side, shucking off his pants and undergarments before shifting back to start with yours.

"May I?"

Your nod was firm, and he quickly dragged the offending garments down your thighs and off of your legs, revealing your glistening sex to his awestruck gaze. Four tossed the material in the same general direction as his own clothes before focusing every ounce of his attention on you.

You were gorgeous; down to the gentle slopes of your calves, the quivering flesh of your thighs, the toned muscles of your stomach, and the heaving curves of your breasts, all just begging to be marked by him. Four could hardly contain himself as he scrambled back over you, the head of his cock poking insistently against your abdomen due to the height difference.

Your arms came up to wrap around his neck, pulling him down for a sweet kiss as your chests pressed together, heartbeat to heartbeat. He could have stayed like that for an eternity, cuddled against you like he belonged there.

"So," your voice broke him from his stupor, a mischievous glint in your perfect eyes. "What now?"

"Now," he reached down to slide his fingers against the soaked lips of your cunt, the pad of his thumb catching deliciously against your swollen clit. He could feel the warm, sticky heat of your arousal and it was driving him wild. You shuddered, and he ducked his head down to deliver a playful lick to your quivering stomach. "We find out what you like."

"O-Only if you let me do the same to you," you shot back in a noticeably shaky voice, tossing your head back to moan lowly when his teeth nipped your right breast hard enough to leave a small mark.

"Tell me what you want," Four echoed his past self, watching your every expression as his fingers delved into the searing depths of your cunt.

"Touch me?" you pleaded, and he did just that, capturing a bouncing teat in his mouth and sucking with enough force to have you mewling. His cock was rock-hard, glistening pearls of pre leaking down the weeping tip, but he forced himself to fight the raging instincts swirling inside him. There would be time for him later, when you had gotten more than enough of your share for everything you had done for him.

Four slid his fingers free of your velvety walls, bringing them to his mouth. He slowly licked the appendages clean, savoring the flavor of you as he maintained eye contact, relishing in the way your eyes went completely wide as you watched the spectacle. You tasted warm and sticky, like water on a dehydrated man's tongue, and Hylia knew Four was completely and utterly dehydrated for you. It was only when your eyes darkened and you whispered "do that again," in a vaguely commanding tone did he chuckle, licking a stripe up his pointer finger before they dipped back down to reacquaint with your dripping sex.

Four's heart fluttered when your cunt tightened around him, curling his fingers experimentally against your gummy walls. He had never done this before, but the other blacksmiths he worked with had been rather transparent with their encounters--a fact he was coming to appreciate more and more as the minutes ticked by. "Good?"

"You have no idea," you sighed. Four grinned, pressing deeper within you. He crooked his fingers again, brushing a vaguely spongy spot within you, and you jerked like you'd been electrocuted, clapping a hand over your mouth to muffle what he was sure would have been a moan loud enough to wake half the inn. He repeated the motion, chuckling when your body shook again, cunt slicker than ever.

"How do you feel?" He asked in a half-joking tone, rubbing tender circles on your puffy clit.

"G-Good," you ground out, hands fisting the sheets. Pride blossomed in his chest at the desperate lit in your voice. "Four, I'm going to–... ah, if you keep this up–"

"You're so pretty," he leaned forward to whisper in your ear, taking the rounded lobe between his teeth, and the moan you let out was positively sinful.

"S-Stop talking," you panted, and he could have laughed if the look on your face wasn't so memorable. He crooked his fingers again, drinking in the keen that left you. You were close, he knew, and he was determined to give you as much as you had given him.

"I'm not lying," Four murmured, releasing your ear in favor of dipping down to suckle tender hickeys at your collarbone. "And I don't plan on stopping anytime soon."

"Shit," you swore, and the curse had never sounded better from your lips. He could feel his dick throbbing harder and harder, positively aching to bury itself within your warm, tight walls, but he steeled himself. "D-Don't stop, please."

Four chuckled, curling his fingers rather harshly against the spot from before while his thumb practically tenderized your poor clit. "I wouldn't dream of it."

Your cunt clenched down on him in rolling waves as you cried out, hips nearly arching off the bed if he hadn't pushed them down, forcing you to accept every ounce of pleasure he had to give. You thrashed in his hold, thighs shaking and head falling back against the pillows as your climax raged through every nerve in your body, so brightly blinding that you could hardly focus on anything but the feeling of his nimble fingers working you through your high. Only when your moans began to pitch into the realm of overstimulation did he stop, pulling away from your cunt with a lewd shlipp sound.

Four brought his fingers to his mouth again, licking them clean with a smug expression. You tasted almost as good as you felt, and he was sorely tempted to get a taste from the source, but the impatient throbbing of his leaking cock forced him to reconsider. Leaning forward, he cupped your sweat-streaked cheeks as you panted for breath. "Can you go again?"

Your eyes cracked open, peering at him through your lash line, and Four couldn't help but swoon at your disheveled gaze. "...Wha?"

"Do you want to keep going?" He rephrased, hoping to Hylia you said agreed.

Your eyelids slid shut, and he was about to call the whole thing off until your voice broke through the fog. "Y-Yeah, just... I need a moment."

"Take your time," Four murmured gently, settling flush against your body with his head resting snugly against your sternum, relishing in the small giggle that left you. One of your hands began caressing his hair, a rumble of satisfaction rattling within him.

"How are you feeling?" You asked after a comfortable silence had passed, and he could have kissed you right then and there.

"Great," he replied. "You?"

"More than that," thank Hylia, he thought. "...Have I told you I loved you yet?"

Four shot up in a flash, staring down at your face, wearing an expression that was too genuine to fake. A wave of heat shot through him, and he was almost positive the grin splitting his face was borderline embarrassing.

"I love you," you continued, and Four nearly choked at the onslaught of emotions rushing through him.

"I–" his mind felt fuzzy, like it was filled with love-soaked cotton. Every nerve in his body was screaming for him to kiss you, so he did. You returned it with a passion he thought only existed in children's stories, only breaking apart when your lungs burned from lack of air. "I love you too."

You cupped his cheek, kiss-swollen lips upturned in a blinding smile, and Four was sure he had ascended to the heavens, because there was no way the goddesses were this kind. "How do you want to do this?" you whispered, pressing featherlight kisses to his jawline.

Four's mind stuttered, but his mouth was already moving. "H-However you want."

"Then lay on your back," you purred, and it was quite possibly the sexiest thing he'd heard in his life. Four did as he was told, rolling off of you and landing on the unoccupied side of the mattress with a soft thump, sticky beads of pre dripping down his length.

Without missing a beat, you clamored atop him, straddling his hips as your hands planted themselves on his bare chest. Four's hands rested on your trim sides, just above the generous swell of your hips, groaning as your burning center pinned his cock against his body.

You bent down, hands still on his chest, and pressed your lips to his. Four moaned into the kiss when your core rubbed deliciously against his dick, sending shockwaves of pleasure down to pool in his pelvis. He was so hard it nearly hurt.  "Are you ready?" you asked as soon as you separated, and he could only nod helplessly, watching with wide, awestruck eyes as you guided the head of his arousal to the drooling lips of your pussy, giving him one last grin before you sank down.

The two of you groaned in tandem as you took him inch by glorious inch, until your hips connected with a lewd smack. "Link," you whimpered, and he was convinced he had died and gone to heaven. "Y-You feel so good."

It took everything in him not to roll you over and show you just how good he could make you feel, so Four gave a pleasured groan and reached up to fondle your breasts. You wiggled and panted, sending searing bolts of heat straight to his dick.

"A-Are you alright?" The smithy whispered, fearing you had hurt yourself.

"I-I'm fine," you responded breathlessly, wiggling a few more times. Four watched in awe as you raised your hips, using your hands on his chest to stabilize yourself, and slammed back down with enough force to knock the wind from him. He squirmed beneath you as you repeated the motion, drawing moans from both your throats. The cycle continued as you kept pace, rising and falling with more conviction than the sun itself, with Four gripping the meat of your thighs, mouth spewing frantic encouragement as you practically pounded him to the bed.

The air was filled with heavy slapping noises, broken, off-kilter moans, and heavy panting, but Four couldn't have cared less as he coaxed you to continue riding him. Only when you moaned, long and loud as his cock grazed your sweet spot, and your scent practically doubled, did Four act.

You yelped when abruptly he sat up, grabbing your wrists with one hand and using the other to flip you, somehow managing to keep his cock buried deep inside you as he forced you, face down and ass up, on the mattress. "H-Hey--" only to be cut off when he pulled out and slammed back in, knocking the words from your mouth.

You screamed a broken rendition of Four's true name as he rutted you like an animal, balls slapping against your oversensitive clit with such ferocity that you nearly came right then and there. "You have no fucking idea, do you?" Four's voice snarled in your ear, but there was something dark embedded in his tone that had you crying out.

A shrill wail left you when his muscled front pressed firmly against your back, his hand ducking beneath your hips to rub deft circles on your overstimulated clit, while the other wriggled under your body to deliver a hearty squeeze to your right breast. The coil in your belly tightened unimaginably... until it broke and you gushed all over him like a tidal wave.

Four growled, slamming his hips to yours with a drawn-out groan. His dick throbbed, and ropes of hot seed spurted into your clenching core, all but coating your walls with his essence. He rocked into you for a few seconds, exhausted out of his mind, and caught your hips when they began to sway.

A short whimper left you when he slowly pulled out of you, a large dollop of cum blurting from your abused cunt, gathering your spent body into his arms. Four brought you to the head of the bed, tucking you under the once rumpled blankets as black spots danced in the corners of his vision, settling beside you with a contented sigh. You made a noise and immediately wrapped your arms around him, cuddling him to your chest like a teddy bear.

For a long while, neither of you said anything, basking in the comfortable silence.

"...I can't believe you didn't tell me," your tired voice filtered through the room.

"I can't believe you didn't run away screaming," he shot back, voice reverberating against your sternum, and the soft smack you delivered to the back of his head was so worth it.

"Idiot," maybe so, but he was your idiot. "I was in a war, remember? You can't scare me."

"That's what you think," said Four, adjusting his head slightly to better hear the steady beat of your heart. He had already been laid bare beneath you, both physically and emotionally, so what was the harm in another one of his secrets coming to life?

"...Four."

"Yes?"

"Please tell me you're not four remlits in a Hylian body."

Four blinked, temporarily detaching from your skin to process the absurdity of that particular statement. "...Excuse me?"

You coughed and held him tighter. "I had to make sure, it's really hard to tell when Time's making stuff up or not–"

"Time said that?!"

"It's not a big deal," you deflected, sounding far too nonchalant for someone who had been pounded less than five minutes ago. "So, are you going to tell me or do I have to answer three of four riddles correctly?"

"I can't believe you just said that," he interrupted with a deadpan, and your wide grin only made it marginally better.

"Thanks, neither can I."

"...I'm going to bed," said Four, settling back against your chest, quietly pondering how in Hyrule he had managed to survive thus far without you. Sweet, wonderful, devilish you, who had captivated him since day one. "Sleep well, my love."

"Only if you do too, honey bunch," you teased back, giggle-yelping when he pinched a nipple in retribution. "Listen here, you little s–"

"Can't hear you when I'm asleep," Four responded in a sing-song tone, snuggling closer with a relaxed sigh. 

THE SMUT IS HERE!!! You'll all be pleased to know that this isn't the end of this saga, so stay tuned for more!

[evanescewriting]

"i can see all the colors"

above me they are shining and finally, I can see all the colors that surround me.

CONTENT: Vague descriptions of injury, descriptions of character death, potentially disturbing sensory (rotting corpse smell mentioned, etc.) comforting character death (for Curly), regret (for Anya’s situation), j***y is not named (🖕) SYNOPSIS: Captain Curly gets a glimpse of the universe outside the foamed up walls of the drifting Tulpar. AUTHOR'S NOTE: mouthwashing folks how are we feeling about that ending

In the end,

no one came.

No one came to free him from the cryopod. No one came to free the bodies scattered around the ship - no one to bring them home. Or for that one, dead, rotting pixel he had no choice but to now see - no one to throw him out into the endless universe like trash.

It was just him.

The bodies.

The tulpar.

And the cryopod he wasn’t meant for.

God, if one could hear him this far from Earth, he would give anything, anything, to be a captain worthy of that honor. Anything to go back in time, pick up the pieces of his sense he let fall to his feet, shattering and cutting him and all that once stood around and with him. And how they bled. How they bled so much that he thought, perhaps, the crimson beneath his feet was a red carpet that marked his glory. His leadership.

Perhaps this was punishment.

To want to give everything to go back as you freeze in a pod, slowly, slowly dying with no one to come save you.

A captain always goes down with his ship.

He wishes he could close his eyes - burning from dryness, and the cold. Perhaps this was punishment too. For not seeing. Now, all he could do was see. He felt as if he had been stripped away of everything. Gone were the skin and limbs. Leaving only behind the most vulnerable, most human mechanisms in his body. To see. To hear. To create sounds of pain, sadness, and desperation. He was a canvas of red - a tiny splotch of blue amongst the various crimson shades. Scaled small on the canvas, but within it so much knowledge. So many things that had finally been seen.

Time stretches by so slowly.

It rakes its nails across him and his ship. Chipping away at resolve and cleaning the remnants of sanity from his mind.

And still,

no one comes.

His ship is failing. His body is failing. What was it, that saying he had thought of not long ago as he considered his punishment? Ah- a captain always goes down with his ship. Well, Captain Curly was going down with his ship.

And his crew.

They are rotting. He is rotting.

And how long had it been, counting his time through the days, hours, and seconds that had gone by since he was.. not this. He felt that he had become something more. Something different. But truly - he was still himself, wasn’t he? The crash had changed him, of course, but isn’t that similar to the process of a sudden metamorphosis? It felt more burden than butterfly - but what if there were still the remnants of the caterpillar in him? Would it be somehow possible to call upon them? To use the skills from the past and translate them to something he could do now?

Yes - yes he thinks perhaps he could. He could call upon them. Use the strength of this form to deliver the most powerful something of all. Do something so very caterpillar (human) while being so butterfly (in his view, not human).

In this freezing, empty chrysalis, he reverts back to his roots, opening his jaw with pain - but that was a familiar thing already - and wheezing out something that only reverberates within the chamber. Echoing down the long hallway of his punishment, lost on the ears of the dead.

“S-S - orry.”

And then no one came.

And then he could not close his eyes.

And then, just before the end, he realized he was neither caterpillar, nor butterfly, nor human, nor anything more or less than that - but maybe, just maybe - he was forgiven.

And then he went down with his ship.

The metal walls and layers of the Tulpar had unraveled itself. All that remained was the exoskeleton of a ship - bones and ribs and skull - drifting through space. One, singular pod still connected to it. Two long dead bodies bound in their infinite voyage.

But maybe that wasn’t true.

Because he feels himself, somehow, come out from the pod - standing just on the edge of the peeling metal. Feet planted impossibly confidently with the absence of gravity.

Beyond death - Captain Curly can still see.

There are so many colors.

Purple, blue, orange, red - a cornucopia of color beyond imagination. Hues and shades the human mind could not even digest. He can see them all before him.

“I think my favorite might be the blues.” There is a voice behind him - sounding different when it lacks timidness.

“Guess mine!” Cheery, useless ray of sunshine that beams so far away from the sun.

“Green.” Straight to the point. But Curly knows that underneath the tone is a fondness for the two.

He can feel them behind him. Eyes turned to the mass of color above.

“Close! It’s pink, Swansea. Me and Anya’s colors make purple.” Daisuke says, and he just knows that maybe he is putting his hands on his hips in a ‘see how greatly that works out?’ motion.

For a moment, silence passes. Comfortable. Peaceful.

“What about you, Captain? What’s your favorite?”

And then he turns - and they are before them.

The crew. The three he should have saved. The three he could not save. The three he failed.

Whatever form he takes now - they stare at him with indifference. Passive curiosity on the simplicity of his favorite enveloped in the beautiful mass, far away from life.

He feels, somewhere within, the feeling of a held in cry or scream that only comes out as a freeing-

“Maybe the yellow. But the pink is nice - so is the blue.”

“Yellow is the best choice.” Swansea voices his agreement as he looks back above him.

“Yeah. Yellow is a good choice, Captain.” And of course, Daisuke’s eyes follow his mentors, even here. Even now.

“Blue is the best choice, though.” Anya says as she joins their gazes lifting back up.

He wants to ask them: was this always just right outside those walls? All these colors he could never see? All these ideas and concepts? All that pain and suffering?

But he knows that they’ll tell him yes, it was. And only now can you see it, Captain.

Only now can you see all the freedom, the relief, the joy, the stars and their colors.

And tell us - tell us when you come to that conclusion, too.

Tell us if you think it is beautiful.

[bradleysass]

Amortentia - @black-brothers-microfic - Word Count: 556 - Starchaser

James Potter was a morning person, much to the annoyance of Sirius and Remus, who grumbled and swatted at him as he bounced around the Gryffindor common room like a golden retriever on too much sugar. Lily had long since learned to avoid him until after her first cup of coffee, and Peter just gave up trying to match his energy altogether.

It was during one of these chipper mornings that James’s boyfriend, Regulus Black, decided to enact a plan. Not that Regulus needed a plan. James already adored him in a way that was almost embarrassing to witness. But there was something deliciously tempting about seeing James—his James—unapologetically ridiculous, all because of him. So, armed with a tiny vial of Amortentia he’d brewed—perfectly legal, of course, as it wasn’t a true love potion—Regulus waited for the opportune moment.

Breakfast in the Great Hall was perfect.

James’s goblet of pumpkin juice sat invitingly on the Gryffindor table, the morning sun casting an innocent golden glow across the room. With a well-timed distraction courtesy of a rather noisy firework Sirius accidentally-on-purpose set off, Regulus slipped the potion into the goblet without anyone noticing. Well, almost anyone.

“What are you up to, Reg?” Barty Crouch Jr., ever the nosy troublemaker, whispered from his seat at the Slytherin table.

Regulus arched a delicate brow. “Mind your own business, Barty.”

Across the hall, James downed his pumpkin juice in one go, smacking his lips in satisfaction. The potion worked fast. Regulus watched, suppressing a smirk as James’s gaze darted toward him. His hazel eyes softened, his grin widened, and—Merlin help him—he practically melted into a lovesick puddle right there at the table.

“Regulus Black!” James bellowed, leaping to his feet. His voice echoed through the hall, drawing every pair of eyes. Regulus sighed, regretting nothing.

“Yes, James?” he called back coolly, though his heart raced at the sheer intensity in James’s expression.

James bounded over to the Slytherin table, weaving through startled students and hopping onto the bench next to Regulus. He grasped both of Regulus’s hands, eyes shining with the fervor of a man about to profess his undying love.

“You,” James declared, “are the single most beautiful creature to ever grace this earth. Nay, this universe!”

Snickers erupted across the room, Sirius’s laughter the loudest of all. Regulus kept his expression schooled into mild amusement, though his cheeks tinged pink.

“James,” he said softly, “are you feeling quite alright?”

“Alright?” James echoed incredulously. “Alright? I’ve never felt better! How could I not, when you’re sitting here, being all… perfect? Your hair, your eyes, your…” He gestured vaguely to Regulus’s entire being. “Everything!”

Regulus bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. “You’re making a scene.”

“Let them watch,” James said dramatically, throwing an arm around Regulus and pulling him close. “Let the whole world see how much I love you!”

At this point, Regulus couldn’t hold back the chuckle that escaped him. He glanced at Sirius, who was doubled over with laughter, and mouthed, “Your best friend is an idiot.”

Sirius grinned. “And you love him for it.”

Regulus didn’t reply, but his soft smile said enough. The potion would wear off by lunch, but for now, he’d let James’s theatrics play out. He deserved a little entertainment, after all.

@the1970sdeadgaywizard-regulus since you like amortentia