#yes there will be more pictures of our feet later

[foxsoulcourt]

A FEW DAYS LATER...

I'm back home, s l o w l y re-entering society, AND HAVE T H OU GHT S! 😉

@dassandre-00qpidsarrow + @stilettochat, thanks for asking what we thought about it! Like @eleanor-is-fine, I thoroughly enjoyed the movie. Which, honestly, surprised me. Infidelity is not one of my fave topics, so wasn't sure I could be fully present + curious while the characters navigated their respective choices + subsequent consequences. It's a tribute to how complex Sachs + Zacharias made each of the characters and their story together, plus how talented the actors are, that I sunk right into the story.

Ten months ago I started seeing pics from the movie; in January I went down rabbit holes to listen to + read interviews, looking at more pics & gifs (and yes THAT clip) to glean a sense of what the overall movie might be like. All of this was helpful for anticipating. However, it's n o t the same as watching a WHOLE creation. WoW, what a gift to finally experience what Sachs + Mauricio Zacharias sought to say + show. #context The story is alternately biting, REAL + tender; the three central characters are deLiciOusLy complex + FuLL; and the COSTUMING IS INCREDIBLE. There are SO MANY AMAZING outfits!!! The set design is outstanding; the C o L o U r S are practically their own character. Overall, the movie is visually DeLigHtFuL.

HOW ABOUT THE ACTORS?!!!

I knew Ben would be brilliant, but he was even better than anticipated. There are many.small.moments where he shines, including one where he's standing in their flat wearing a navy sweater. His posture, gestures + spoken words made me believe he WAS Martin, not Ben. Rogowski is phenomenal; he makes all.of.Tomas believable, not an easily dismissed caricature. The longer she was on screen, the more I fell in love with Agathe as a character + Exarchopoulos as an actor. And thank goodness for Kepoa Falé; his Amad was the perfect tonic for Martin + Tomas' dynamic.

While I would have loved to be able to watch the movie in a theatre, what was lost on a small screen, while not incidental, was more than made up for by watching it with a fandom friend. That was a TREAT! And, yes, @macontheweb , we thoroughly enoyed our time together. [BTW @anyawen, E rented it through Vudu so we had it for 48 hours. It's also available in the US through Apple.] The first time through we mostly sat gape-jawed, taking it all in. MUCH DisCuSsioN ensued so that during the second viewing, we stopped + started it several times to sift through what we thought might be going on inside Martin, Tomas, Agathe + Amad's minds. Super fun.

As a director, Sachs makes two choices which, while sometimes disconcerting, ultimately support the story’s realism. One: we often don't see the face of characters, especially in several cRiTicaL moments, and two: there are few indications of how much time elapses between when Life Gets Complicated for Martin + Tomas and the end of the movie. There are clues, but nothing definite. Both give the whole experience a realistic sense of topsy turviness.

Seeing this film makes me want to see more of Sach's work, so if you have recs, please send them my way. The writing + cinematography was SCRUMPTIOUS. I love how Sachs + Zacharias --elder gays-- selected younger actors who had their own interpretations of the characters, and then they celebrated Whishaw, Rogowski + Exarchopoulos' respective adaptations to the scripted story. I respect this BRILLIANT, evolutionary strategy!

And The Sex™? For many reasons (including the illogic of more harshly rating sex, but! not! violence! ...grrrr) that's primarily what I first heard about + saw. As Sachs set out to accomplish, all.of.the physical + sexual intimacy provides a FABULOUS dimension to the overall story. It's real, sometimes awkward, other times deliciously sensuous; often simultaneously more. Y'know, like what can happen in real life.

Recommendation: Watch it once for the story. Watch it a second time for the visuals. Both times keep your eyes on who exercises their agency + when/why they do so.

FINALLY, while together, one of the things E + I discussed was Betty Martin's Wheel of Consent. Wow. It's going to take A MINUTE to unpack this wOnDeRfuLL model + its potential applications in so.many.settings. Translation: I'll want to watch Passages again thinking about this framework.

Here ends Foxy's film review. Thanks for asking!

How about YOU? Have you seen it? What did YOU think?

💜

Foxy

so… @eleanor-is-fine + I are going to watch Passages

[inkskinned]

"the curtains weren't blue on purpose. why should we care?"

my love! let me ask you this - did you eat breakfast today? this tiny moment in your life. just think about it. did you?

for some of you, the answer is yes and for some of you it is technically and for some of you it is does coffee count. some of you reached for cereal or gmo-free overnight oats or frozen waffles or 3-day-old pizza. sometimes we eat the same thing, every day, for weeks. i get tired of eggs randomly, only to go back to craving them desperately. i'm cuban; i take my coffee like my father showed me, very milky and sweet.

some of us ate in a hurry. some of us hate eating breakfast but if we don't we will get nauseous later. some of us took our meds first or took our meds after. some of us have a kitchen 5 feet wide and sometimes it's the biggest room in the house. some of us are confident there will be food in the pantry and some of us flinch and say well, the paycheck is coming. some of us turn on a podcast while we eat or we scroll our phones or write in our diaries.

some of us are choosing, specifically, not to eat breakfast. some of us are too busy. some of us are pretending we "just forgot," but we are ignoring the warning signs that everything feels too-heavy. some of us are so consumed with anxiety or grief that we can't eat. some of us can't stand up long enough to make our coffee. some of us have no table to sit down and eat.

i cannot tell you what an artist "meant" by their choices. but they did have to make a choice, conscious or otherwise, to give you information. to give you a little bit more light. each of these choices are little stars of data; connecting speckles for you to weave through, drawing a line.

you cannot use a mirror in a dark room. for some of us; we will not care that the curtains are blue, because that will just be a data point and not enough light to see by. for some of us, the blue curtains will be the same as our childhood bedroom. it will make us seasick. for some of us, blue will be the color of frostbite. it might look like a pixel up close; but from a distance, oh! the picture blooms.

i cannot tell you what will stick out for you. what will carry meaning. some of you will read the sentence "i didn't have breakfast today" and say "this means nothing." some of you will read that and say "oh, me neither." some of you will say "this means the character is probably a little grouchy." some of you will say "oh, i wonder if they're okay. why didn't they eat anything?" ... art is a mirror. i am holding hands with you, over space and time, and asking you to feel something with me.

i want you to read my work and find a blue pair of curtains. i want you to read my work and find things in it that i never imagined placing. i have no way of knowing what will resonate with you, that's true. and maybe i just was hungry while i wrote this, and thinking about the eggs in my fridge. but if you found meaning, that meaning is yours. it cannot be erased just because i didn't "intend" it. you created a different world by interpreting my work. it's collaborative! that's beautiful! that's stunning!

just! imagine looking at the night sky and saying - it's stupid to have a favorite constellation or a favorite star. they're just there.

because here's the thing - across centuries and cultures, we look up. we still find meaning in the stars. these beautiful, lovely scattered accidents. are you looking? they call. and we look back and say oh! of course we are!

[jeonsweetpea]

The Moon Knows Our Secrets (2) - Final

Exes to Lovers!AU | Hybrid!Jungkook x Hybrid!OC | Soulmate!AU 

genre: angst, smut, exes to lovers, vampire/werewolf hybrid (emphasis on werewolf), soulmates, forced proximity

rating: explicit

description: He doesn’t remember loving you. How could he, when you’re the one who erased his memories? You run into him a year later at a wedding. The year after that he’s reported missing and you go off to find him. Then you wonder: did he ever forget you?

word count: 17.7k

warnings (SPOILERS!!!): tension, resentment, fight scenes (nothing too graphic), Boxer!JK, injuries, blood, spying, drama with exes, arguing, underground cage fighting with ill intentions, OC and JK wrestle for control when he goes into his rut, a magic spell gone wrong, biting, JK and OC's POVs are included, HAPPY ENDING

smut warnings (tread carefully): masturbation (male), JK later goes into his RUT, kissing, unprotected sex, thigh job, oral sex (male and female receiving), scratching, rough sex, face-fucking, standing sex, knotting, creampies, dirty talk, multiple rounds, multiple orgasms, hickies, nipple play, tummy bulge, lots of cum, marking, doggystyle, slight breeding kink (no pregnancy), slight dumbification, pain kink, brief mentions of anal, chains, hand jobs

a/n: This is an epilogue for my series Moonstruck (inspired by TVD), but it can be read as a STAND-ALONE! You do not have to read Moonstruck (but it will be more satisfying if you have 😉). This is the most smut I've written in a while and I tried out a new writing style too. I hope you enjoy it! Reblogs and asks always make my day, thank you! Or if you prefer AO3, I post there too.

| Part 1 | Part 2

Six Months Later…

Another unknown number. You stare at your phone on the motel bed like the device is an uninvited guest as you step out of the bathroom, scrunching a towel around your damp hair. The clock on the wall reads midnight. 

Maybe it’s a client?

The call disappears before you can answer it, reverting to the lock screen—the wedding group picture from last year. You had cropped it where it showcases only you and Jungkook. It’s a tad pixelated from being zoomed in so much, but the same deer-in-the-headlights expression pokes through on both of your faces. He was holding you in a dip position because you had almost fallen. The memory makes you smile every time, and you need a little joy in this dreary room. 

You sit on the bed and the phone rings again, as if on cue. The towel is cast aside as you answer it, tapping the button for speaker mode. 

“Hello?”

“Is this Miss [Y/N]?”

Even your alarm clock can’t get you out of bed this fast. You’re up on your feet, placing the phone against your ear as your heart rate spikes. There’s no way. That deep, smooth voice was unmistakable, especially when it used to whisper the filthiest things in your ear. “Y-Yes, this is her. Who is this?”

As if you don’t already know. “I’m Officer Kim Taehyung, Headmaster Kim gave me your number.”

What’s the latest phone model in store? Because you’re seconds away from shattering the current one in your hands. Or maybe you should redirect your anger around Namjoon’s neck instead. You kept your words steady as you said, “Oh, I see. What can I do for you?”

“Well, I’m so sorry to call you at this hour, but I’m worried about a… a friend of mine,” he says. His hesitation on the “friend” label piques your interest. “I haven’t been able to reach him in a couple of weeks. I’m worried he’s gone missing.”

Wait. He’s an officer now? 

“If an officer such as yourself hasn’t been able to find him, that is worrisome. I’m assuming your friend is supernatural. Because that’s kind of all I do…”

“Yes, of course. He’s a hybrid.”

Your heart is lodged in your throat, unable to force the things you want to scream out. You had to take a deep breath before asking in a low voice, depicting how serious this is, “He’s a what?”

“A hybrid. Do you… know him?”

Do I know him… what a stupid question. You roll your eyes as if he could see you through the phone. “Text me everything you have on him. I’ll find him.”

“How?”

“Are you questioning my skills? I said I’ll find him.”

You hang up after that and collapse flat on your back, the mattress squeaking from your weight. You shouldn’t be so harsh on him; the poor man wasn’t up to date with all that’s happened. It’s not like he would know your history with Jungkook. Or you, for that matter. You made sure of that.

A buzz from your phone snaps you from your thoughts.

KTH: His name is Jeon Jungkook. His last known location was his apartment up north. I’ll send you the address and a picture.

He’s a man of his word, as the next text contains a map with the location marked by a round red pushpin. As much as you want to cremate Namjoon, Taehyung has given you the first lead you’ve had in months. If anything happened to Jungkook, you’d never forgive yourself. 

*Bzz*

Well, that’s new. It’s a picture of Jungkook under a white duvet, his arm bent, his head propped on his hand. Most of his body was covered, but the amount of skin showing at the junction between his neck and shoulder lets you know he is naked. Or at most, shirtless. Both are equally hot options if you have anything to say about it. 

His lips are pressed together into a coy smile, but his eyes are screaming “fuck me.” Like a personal challenge. 

KTH: Oops. I didn’t mean to send that picture.

You: It’s fine. I got the jist of what he looks like.

Why he has such a suggestive photo of Jungkook in the first place was concerning, but not enough for you to press further. 

Jungkook’s Point of View

My guard is up as my opponent swings his fists. His moves have zero technique, relying solely on blind rage as he tries to knock me out. Too bad I was quicker than him, playing the defensive first while I decided the best way to secure my victory. 

As we shuffle around the caged ring, the burly man in front of me grows impatient, like a bull taunted by a red cape. The more he charged, the more I dodged. He hasn’t gotten a single hit in, which only spurs the crowd to cheer louder for me. 

My heart is battering around in my rib cage, excited from the adrenaline rush. Having the spotlight on me, adoring fans, and exerting my muscles makes me feel alive. I don’t focus on anything else. I can’t. If I want to win, I transform whatever turmoil brews inside me into determination.

The rules are simple: no weapons, no biting, only fists and feet. Classic brawl style. We may be wolves, but there are boundaries, or our pride would cause a full-on slaughter.

The guy in front of me is drenched in sweat, and I see how his movements slowed—he was getting tired. It was time for me to go on the offensive.

I launch a kick, aiming for his right side. He caught it without even blinking, earning a choral gasp from the audience. They assume I’m in a bind, but I focus all my strength on my other leg and smack the dude across the face at lightning speed. He fell with a resounding thud, but I don’t wait for him to regain balance. 

I hit him with all I got—jab, cross, jab, cross. Right hook, left hook. He cowered in the corner like a bitch and I knee him in the gut. It was like watching a boulder topple over, his pride smashed into smithereens. Throwing my arms up, I circle the cage to pump up morale. The crowd bangs their fists against the enclosure as I roar. The referee begins the countdown from ten. 

Another victory added to my streak. Maybe I’ll treat myself and get laid tonight. I can smell the eager ones in the room and when I first got here, I always turned them down to be modest. Fuck that. I’m finally going to do it. 

I scan the room for potential suitors when my eyes land on her. It was like tunnel vision where everyone else was blacked out and she was the light at the end. I’m nothing but a moth to her flame, so gobsmacked that I rub my eyes to ensure I wasn’t seeing things. 

When I come to, she’s gone. There’s no way. 

I worked so hard to get over her. Is my brain so fucked that it’s starting to make me hallucinate? It seems years of therapy did absolutely nothing. Thanks, Jin.

Next thing I know the big guy recovers and tackles me to the ground. He got a good hit in; I tasted blood. There was no time to dwell on a figment of my imagination. My thirst for victory shouldn’t be underestimated as I swing my fist square in his jaw. I wasn’t going down that easy. 

Yikes. That’s a doozy.

I’ve been examining my face for five minutes now, hating how he split my lip open. Oh well. It’ll heal soon enough and I sent him home with far worse. 

That was the last fight of the night, so I had the locker room all to myself. The staff went home after sending the customers on their way. I go to my locker, type in the combination, and pull out a spare change of clothes and a towel. 

I head to the shower, placing my things on the bench. I undress, the first thing being my tank top, which had splotches of blood stained on the white fabric. Most of it wasn’t mine anyway, thankfully. I remove my shorts, discarding them in the same pile as my top. 

I enter the shower and close the curtain, turning the water onto the hottest setting. Once it hits my skin, I throw my head back and feel my muscles release its tension as I bask in the warmth. I tilt my head forward to get my hair damp when thoughts of her creep into my mind. 

It felt real. She looked real. I remembered everything about her appearance from head to toe even if I only saw her briefly. 

Her hair was dyed now to a color that suited her features. She had minimal makeup on that further enhanced her natural beauty. Her body was adorned in black skinny jeans where the seams were in front, matching her black combat boots and leather jacket. Underneath was a short-sleeved v-neck, her cleavage prominent and so inviting. Ugh. I shouldn’t be thinking about her in such a way, but where was I supposed to look? Her push-up bra was doing god’s work. 

Man, I’m so pathetic. I shouldn’t lust over her. She left me not once, but twice. What’s worse is she doesn’t know I remember everything. Maybe I shouldn’t have kept vervain on me that day. Would my life have turned out better? 

I dispense some body wash into my hands, lathering it between my palms before rubbing my torso. My hands trail down to my groin area, and I thoroughly clean it because sweaty balls are such a turn-off. But then I wrap my hand around the base of my cock, stroking it slowly. 

It looks like I’m washing it, but I already know what’s coming next. Memories of her are like shards of glass I can’t remove, embedded so deep that it scars. I reminisce about our past. How it felt to touch her, kiss her, love her. Her sweet moans, her soft breasts, her addictive scent. I’m palming myself and shuddering. Unlike her, my hands are calloused, but I pretend I have her soft touch.

I close my eyes and fantasize. I’d tear her clothes off with my bare teeth, mark all over her chest with my lips, turn her around, and take her. Indulge in my primitive urges and teach her a lesson. God, I wanted to fuck someone tonight, anyone, but my mind defaults to her. 

The soap makes it easy to glide my hand up and down my cock. I’m going much faster now, my breaths more ragged. No one’s here anyway. So I moan. I don’t give a fuck anymore. I just need to come and get this out of my system. 

I’m about to finish when there’s a gasp outside my stall. My entire body stills and I don’t take a moment to ask “Who’s there?” like the stupid idiots you see in horror movies. I think about what to do next and then commit. 

After turning off the water, I pull the curtain back and step out. I glance to my left to see the shower stall at the end has its curtain closed. It wasn’t like that before. 

I put on my boxers because I sure as hell wasn’t going to face this intruder naked. I plan to charge in there and drag him out without saying a word. Other than the sound of my footsteps, it’s eerily quiet. I reach my hand out, but as soon as I’m about to grab the curtain, the shower turns on. 

I hesitate, wondering if I’m about to be an asshole who’s about to expose an innocent soul out in the open. Before I built my reputation, I was jumped for being the new guy multiple times. That stopped after the third guy went home with three broken ribs though, but I can never be too careful. Some people were sore losers.

“Hey. Are you okay?”

Great. I’m not only stupid but polite. I’m sure the person behind the curtain will slit my throat any moment, so I better act fast. I grab the curtain and attempt to pull it, but it’s stuck. 

Or rather, someone is holding it still. I yank harder this time, but they refuse to budge. I use both hands, gripping it extra tight, and tug with all my might until the sound of torn fabric echoes in the room, revealing the culprit.

The person I thought I healed from, the one I once thought I would heal with, is standing right before me, her eyes as wide as mine. I can’t think straight, so my body moves without permission as I charge forward, pinning her to the wall face first. I have her arms pinned behind her back, catching my breath when I realized what I had done. 

I don’t want her to look at me. Because then I’d have to accept the fact that she’s real. 

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

Your Point of View

Where do you start? Do you tell him you tracked him down to the countryside and climbed down a creepy cellar door behind a barn only to find out he was an underground cage fighter? Or explain how you followed him to the locker rooms hoping to get a word with him until you tripped on your shoelaces? 

It’s difficult to decide when he’s got your arms twisted behind your back. They were getting sore. 

“I–I heard you were missing,” you say, wary of your next choice of words. “Can you please let me go?”

You attempt to move, but he holds your wrists with one hand while using the other one to render your head immobile. He uses enough force to press your cheek against the cold tile.

“I didn’t say you could move,” he warned, his voice laced with venom. “Congratulations, you found me. I’m no longer missing.”

“And you’re a cage fighter?”

“What’s it to you?”

“You’re cheating. This place is only for werewolves and you’re a—”

He flips you around so quickly you almost get whiplash, your back pinned to the wall while he covers your mouth. He has a murderous glare, his jaw clenches, and the vein near his temple bulges out. “Be quiet. You never know who’s listening.”

Your eyes drink him in, ogling him unashamed because his beauty should have been illegal. His hair was damp, but you can tell it’s cut short now. He didn’t have any piercings in, his natural beauty was enough to make anyone fall to their knees—which is exactly what you wanted to do for him. But you don’t make a sound. 

You couldn’t help but notice the glorious sight of his inked sleeve. When did he get that many tattoos? You bet there was a story to each one, but before you can dwell on it, Jungkook shifts his hand from your mouth to your eyes. 

There’s a sense of deja vu from his actions. The last time he covered your eyes was to prevent you from compelling him two years ago. Following through with such a heartbreaking decision was difficult, but you believed it was for the best.

As for now? You’re not sure. 

“So you stalk me because you thought I was missing, follow me into the showers, and now you’re ogling me like a pervert?”

He got you there. “I… I didn’t mean to…”

“If the roles were reversed, I’d look like some sick freak. You invaded my privacy.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You should be. Let me ask you something, and I expect you to be honest: Were you listening to me earlier?” He saw you tuck your lower lip under your teeth like you wanted to seal the words shut. “Answer me. And don’t play dumb.”

“Yes,” you say, meek and pathetic. “I heard you.”

You can’t see him, but his eyes are crazed like he doesn’t know how to act around you. “And did you like what you heard?” He closes the gap between your bodies, his bare chest barely brushing against yours. His lips are ghosting across your own as he continues. “You like hearing me get off like some sick freak? Is that what you are? A fucking pervert?”

“N-No…” You don’t sound convincing in the slightest. 

His hot breath fans across your face. “I didn’t even get to finish.”

You gulp. “I… I could help you finish…”

Before your hand has a chance to sneak over to his lower region, he snatches it. “You aren’t allowed to touch me.”

“Technically, you touched me first.”

“Bratty now, are we? Don’t be flattered. I’d rather touch myself.” He releases your wrist, but his other hand is in the same spot, obstructing your sight. “I’m going to jerk off and you’re going to stand there until I’m finished.”

“What?”

“You heard me. And you’re going to keep hearing me until I’m satisfied. Understand?”

The constant steam from the shower was nearing the point of suffocation, but his words were far deadlier. “Okay.”

“Hands behind your back. I don’t want you tempted. Perverts like you can’t be trusted.”

You have to scold yourself for igniting a fire in the pit of your stomach from his slander, but you obey. Though you can’t see him, you hear the soft smacking sounds of him jerking his cock, surprised at how quickly he was to start.

If you had your sight, you’d be able to see how he is staring at your lips, wishing more than anything he could kiss you. How his eyes trail down to your cleavage and how the droplets of water made them look more enticing. His mind is racing a mile a minute through all his fantasies of how he’d take you, punish you, torment you until you were begging to come. As much as he does want to fuck you, you’re so damn gorgeous that admiring you was enough. 

His moans sound like soft sobs the closer he approaches his climax, his hand speeding up. It’s erotic, whiny, and sexy when he’s so desperate. He’s grunting through gritted teeth, panting like he’s running out of breath. You wonder if he makes the same noises when he’s working out. 

Fuck, you’d give anything to see him now. But his intentions were clear. You were to be still until he was finished. 

“Does this turn you on?” he asks, his voice shaky. He lays his chin on your shoulder, lips pressed against the shell of your ear. “I’m close.”

He lets out a choked gasp, whispering “fuck, fuck, fuck” as he pumps himself as fast as he can, reaching his high and submitting to the pleasure. It’s unbelievably erotic and he comes in his hand, catching the spurts of cum. He pulls back and stares at your lips again.

“Open.” Your mouth obeys willingly and he shoves two of his cum-soaked fingers inside. You close your lips around them, sucking them clean and savoring his taste. It’s bitter and slightly salty, but you welcome it. “Good girl.”

The praise brings a grin to your face. He rinses his hand under the water, turns it off, and finally releases his hold on you. You see the large expanse of his back as he walks away, almost drooling at his size. He slips on a loose black T-shirt, sweatpants, and slides. 

He looks over his shoulder. “Do you need clothes?” 

The question makes your heart swell. “I’m good.” 

Jungkook hears you mutter words similar to Latin. He turns around to see your necklace glow when you rub it between your thumb and forefinger. Your clothes dry in an instant, and he chuckles. “When did you learn magic?”

“I’ve had some free time.”

He peers down to your feet, letting out a heavy sigh as he walks over. Getting down on one knee, he ties your shoelace and you can’t help but melt. 

“I hope you have some free time now,” he says, lifting his head to meet your gaze. “I’m not done with you yet. We need to talk.”

It’s past 3 AM. The air is cool and crisp, carrying a faint scent of hay. Stars are twinkling in the clear night sky while the moon casts a silvery glow, illuminating silhouettes of barns in the distance. It’s quiet since folks are deep in their slumber, so walks home are usually serene. 

“Jungkook, wait up!”

Today’s an exception. “Hurry up, slowpoke.”

You jog to catch up to his pace on the dirt road. He rolls his eyes but slows his steps, tucking his hands in his pockets. “Didn’t you say we needed to talk?”

He stops abruptly, and you almost bump into his mountainous form. “Okay. Talk. Why are you here? You made it clear the last time we met that you couldn’t stay.”

You fumble with your words, as your brain isn’t quite as speedy as your lips. “Well I… I wasn’t in my right mind then.”

“Did I hurt you?” Your expression softens when you see the concern in his features, those brown doe eyes so big and round that you can see your reflection in them. Had he spent all this time fearing the worst?

“No… not in the slightest. I left because I was embarrassed.”

“I don’t believe you. You looked at me like…” He closes his eyes as if the next words would pain him. “Like I was a mistake.”

“No!” you exclaim, shaking your head. “You are anything but a mistake.”

“Then why do I feel like you’re hiding something?” He invades your space, his large frame towering over yours. “Why are you really here, [Y/N]?”

This is your chance to tell him the truth. With one command, you can make him remember loving you and all the shared memories that came with it. You’re ready to love him the way he deserves, but the thing is… you’re not sure you deserve him. Consequences were in order and pain was inevitable. He’ll hate you. He’ll feel betrayed.

Panic takes charge, forming an excuse for you. “I told you… someone told me you went missing. I was worried.”

He raises an eyebrow, prodding the inside of his cheek with his tongue like your answer was unsatisfactory. “Oh yeah? Who’s that?”

“Kim Taehyung.”

Jungkook drops his arms to his side. “Wow. That son of a…” He clasps a hand to his forehead, pacing back and forth in utter disbelief. “Guess I have two stalkers.”

“What exactly is Taehyung’s relationship to you?”

He stops and faces you, looking like you had offended him. “There is no relationship. There will never be a relationship, but he doesn’t seem to get that! God!”

You place your hands on your hips. “I don’t understand.”

He decides against elaborating but quickly changes his mind after seeing you use Taehyung to deflect.

“He’s an old roommate. We used to fuck. Okay?” Time seems to stop between you two but for an entirely different reason. You’re abhorred, unable to comprehend the fact your ex fucked your other ex. This must be the universe’s punishment for messing with their memories. Because the Jungkook you know would have never sought him out after everything Taehyung put you through.

You fucked my ex?! The dude who tried to kill you?! The guy who backstabbed us and harmed us?! Are you insane?!

You have to bite your tongue before the house of cards collapses. 

“I was experiencing my first rut. It was overwhelming. Not like I could fuck a human without hurting them. Permanently,” he adds, watching how your face morphs into one lost in thought. “What’s up?” 

You snap out of it. “Oh. Nothing. Before Taehyung, I went west because there were rumors of the ‘Cervix Splitter’ and thought…”

He stares at you, mouth agape as he points to himself. “You thought that was me?!”

“I don’t know!” you say, holding your hands out with your palms up. “I think they might have a serial killer loose… damn.”

“Can we please stick to the subject?” he asks, exasperation coating every word. You nod and gesture for him to continue. “Anyway, he and I ran into each other and one thing led to another. We were both hybrids with needs. It was a good arrangement, but then he got obsessive. Wanted a relationship. I said no.”

You give him a look of sympathy as you recall how Taehyung reacted when you broke up with him. Even though you erased your existence from his mind, it seems his obsessive tendencies lingered. Some things never change. “He didn’t like that very much, did he?”

“What do you think? I ran away, so he’d leave me alone. It worked for the past few months until you showed up.” He narrows his eyes into slits. “Did you tell him I was here?”

“No. He keeps texting me though.”

He points an accusatory finger at you. “You’re not going to tell him anything. Got it?”

“I won’t. But if you keep that tone up, I might reconsider,” you warn.

“And how would that benefit you? Do you know Taehyung?”

Unfortunately. “It’s my job to help those in need in the supernatural community.”

“What are you, the Scooby Doo gang?” He steps back to laugh. “Is this what you’ve been up to since you’ve left?”

“Don’t make fun of me,” you scold. “Helping is what I do. I’m good at it. It clears my mind.”

“Okay. Then you can ‘help’ yourself out of here. Tell Taehyung you didn’t find me while I go home and rest. I’m exhausted.”

He dashes off, leaving a trail of dust in his wake. You follow at once and encounter a quaint cottage surrounded by forestry. Jungkook waits at the front door, folding his arms across his chest.

“Do you need something else?” he asks. You swear you can see the cogs turning in his mind, unable to figure out what’s your angle.

“Are you going to continue fighting?” 

He shrugs. “Yeah. It’s a great stress reliever. Keeps me from…” His eyes flit to your lips for a brief second. “... overthinking. Plus I get great perks. Respect. Fans. Money.”

“You don’t need money.”

“I know, but it’s a power trip having it. Besides, people bet on me. I’d hate to let my loyal benefactors down.”

You mirror his stance, folding your arms as displeasure passes your face. “You’re a hybrid. It’s a given you’ll win every fight and that’s not fair to their pack.”

“Only if they find out.” You’re about to counteract his argument, but he beats you to it. “Look. Boxing’s my thing. I enjoy the rush it gives me. Exerting my muscles, feeling that sweet burn, and fighting until my body gives out—it’s addicting. I feel alive.”

His eyes shimmer with every word he speaks like he was putting on a speech to inspire high school kids. It only brings you more dread when there’s a confession on the tip of your tongue. 

“Well… do you have to box here?”

“I like it here. Now if you don’t mind…”

He pulls out his keys, turns around, and inserts them into the lock. You nibble on your thumbnail, scrambling to come up with another excuse. Once he enters, you use your enhanced speed and invite yourself in. 

“Can I stay?” you ask, quick to shut the door. He chuckles, impressed by your tenacity.

“What is with you? Don’t you have a Cervix Splitter to catch? Please leave.”

The words bubble up in your throat, forcefully coming to the surface like word vomit. “You can’t stay here!”

The outburst garners his undivided attention as he stares at you dumbfounded like there is Wii music playing in the background. “Why?”

“There’s some people who know you’re a hybrid…” you reveal, your voice reduced to a mere squeak.

“What did you say?” he asks through gritted teeth. You don’t reply and he repeats himself, this time with a lower volume, which spooks you more than if he was shouting. “What did you do?”

“When I came here to find you, I asked if anyone saw you. I showed them a picture and told them you’re a hybrid. Thought it’d make it faster…” You let out a small laugh. “I was kinda right…”

Jungkook looks like he’s at a crossroads of whether to hate you or murder you. Or both. “Why would you expose me like that?”

“I didn’t know it was a secret.” He lifts his fist at an angle toward the door, and you wait for him to slam it down in anger. However, he sighs and lowers his hand slowly, splaying his fingers against the wood. You blink twice, choosing your next words carefully. “I don’t understand. Why would you hide the fact you’re a hybrid?”

He holds onto the sides of his head like he is about to rip his hair out. “Oh, I don’t know,” Sarcasm is dripping in every word. “Did you forget how your grandparents tried to kill us when they discovered your existence?”

What did he say?

His hands drop down by his side as do yours. Realization dawns upon you two, the world coming to a screeching halt. Shock renders you immobile as the gears in your head try to turn, but they’re overwhelmed by the million questions plaguing your mind. He shouldn’t know that. He shouldn’t remember that. Unless… he never forgot.

“You remember me… You remember everything,” you say in a breathy tone. You should’ve seen it coming, especially with how he acted at the wedding. “How do you—“

“I had vervain on me,” he confesses without the slightest remorse. 

You take a small step back, almost stumbling. “So this whole time… you never forgot me? You knew what I did and didn’t say anything? You slept with Taehyung?!”

“That’s what you got from this? That’s what you choose to focus on?” His question pins you for a fool. 

“Because that’s the stupidest thing you could’ve done! I erased his memories so he could start fresh. Same with you!”

“What difference does it make? I asked, no, I begged you not to erase my memories and you did it anyway.”

You steel yourself to remain calm. “Because I didn’t want you burdened by me anymore. I thought I was doing what was best for you.”

He tilts his head, his eye slightly twitching as he raises a finger like he is about to lecture you. “Stop. Stop saying it was best for me when the reality was, you were only thinking about yourself.” He takes a sharp inhale. “You wanna know why I got with Tae? Because I was a mess when you left. Devastated. Broken people look for broken people, [Y/N].”

You threw your head back. “Oh my god... This is precisely why I wanted you to forget.”

He almost snarls. “You don’t get it, do you? You always do this. You make decisions without my consent. I never asked to be a hybrid, I never asked for any of this shit.”

You place a hand on your chest, offended. “I’m sorry, you’re upset I turned you to save your life?”

“You turning me was what started this whole mess,” he spits out, revulsion apparent. “I was sired to you, I fell in love with you, I went through hell and back only for it to not matter in the end. You left me. I could forgive you the first time, but not for the second.”

There aren’t any words you can say to combat this. 

“I remember everything about you. About us,” he says, the look in his eyes resembling a kicked puppy. “I remember what you said the day you tried to compel me.”

“Don’t,” you plead. He throws your words back at you in a rather snarky manner.

“‘When I’m ready, I’ll come to you and you can decide then if you’ll have me.,” he quotes. “I used to think I’d be okay waiting for you to come around… but that was incredibly stupid. You came back only to abandon me again and for what? To go around playing vigilante?”

“Jungkook…”

“No, I’m not done.” He starts to pace back and forth. “Did you ever stop to think about what I wanted? Of course not. Because in the end, it’s all about you. You should’ve erased everything. What was the point of only erasing my love for you, huh?”

“What do you want me to say?” you ask, fighting back tears.

“I want you to tell me the truth. You erased Taehyung’s memories of you because he was a psychopath but spared me the smallest glimpse. Why? Why not erase it all?”

“Because I love you!” you exclaim. He stops pacing, shooting you a skeptical glare. “And knowing that you still remembered me, even a tiny part of me, was comforting enough to help me move on. I needed space.”

“Well, isn’t that sweet? But I’m not your safety net, [Y/N].” He walks over to his front door and pulls it open. “Get out.”

You shake your head. “Jungkook, please.”

“Either you get out or I’ll throw you over my shoulder and force you out.”

The resentment he had must’ve grown exponentially over the years. If you push him further than you already had, he might snap. So you exit his house but go for one final attempt at whatever relationship you can salvage with him.

“Please let me stay. I can protect you from those cage fighters if they decide to get even.”

“No. You’ve done enough.”

“Jungkook—”

“Enough!” His voice carries, causing birds to flutter their wings and find solace in another tree further away. You watch as he towers over you again, but beneath his icy glare is a heartbroken man. “Since I first saw you, I have belonged to you completely.”

He tightens his fists, closes his eyes, and takes a deep breath before saying the next part.

“I have always belonged to you. And for that, I suffered. I came here to escape, to heal, and it worked. I was at peace and you waltz in here, stirring up chaos in my life where it’s not welcomed.” His eyes never waver and you don’t dare look away. “And what’s funny is how you expect me to do what? Take you back?”

“I… I don’t know. I thought…”

“You thought wrong,” he finishes for you. “Do you think it’s easy seeing you? I’m angry, [Y/N]. You make me so mad I can’t even think straight.”

“Then yell at me! Don’t push me away.”

“I’m pushing you away because I know you. And I know what hurts you the most.” He caresses your face longingly, slowly, like it’d be the last time. His fingers ghost the surface of your skin, and you lean in, desperate for more. But he pulls back. “Either you choose me or you lose me. And it’s too late to choose me now. Goodbye [Y/N].”

“No,” you say like a stubborn child. “I don’t want to leave you. I’m afraid to lose you. Please.”

He clicks his tongue at you as he shakes his head. “I suggest you face your fears. It’s not like this is the first time.”

The last thing you see is the door being slammed in your face.

Jungkook’s Point of View

That was the worst sleep of my life. I couldn’t stop thinking about her and how I left her. She deserved all my venomous words, but empathy made me regret everything. Why do we even need such an emotion when all it does is make us feel like shit?

It’s pitch black in my room. The low-pitched sound of the air conditioner is my only companion. I enjoy being alone, but that doesn’t mean I don’t get lonely. I shouldn't get used to missing her, but I’m used to it again. I wish she were here.

I decide to get dressed and quickly leave the house. For once the angel and devil on my shoulder agree, pressing me to find her but for two different reasons. One says to forgive and forget, the other craves to deliver punishment and commit sins. 

I tell myself I’m going hunting instead. Rabbits and squirrels fall prey to my clutches and I feel a pang in my heart when I drink their blood, but I have to survive somehow. Before I knew it, it was dark outside and the moon looked lonely, almost like it was crying in the night sky. 

I couldn’t find her. I searched all day, but the countryside is vast, and I’m drenched in sweat. Checking the time on my watch, I see I’m late for my next fight. 

Shit. 

It’s fine. She’s an Original Hybrid and can take care of herself. 

Rushing back to the barn, I circle to find the angled cellar door. I pull the handle, descend downstairs, and run into one of the bouncers. Aside from cage fighting, the underground establishment is used for clubbing and drinking most days of the week. I hear the heavy bass from the music, feeling the ground shake from the vibrations. I greet the bouncer with a handshake, but he stares at me like I had pissed in his thermos. 

“Ms. Lim wants to see you,” he says, his voice gruff. He gestures his bald head towards the door that says “AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY” on the right, so I head there. There’s a narrow hallway and at the end of the corridor is her office. I slowly open the door. 

“Jungkook,” Her nasal voice already has a trace of annoyance as I poke my head in. She’s sitting behind her desk with two henchmen about twice my size, both dressed in suits with their hands clasped in front. “Come in please.”

I do what she says and she points to the chair in front, so I sit. “Hello, Ms. Lim. I know I’m late, I’m sorry. Can I have the next fight?”

Her mouth twitches. “No. We need to talk.”

She snaps her fingers and the two bodyguards stand on either side of me, each placing a firm hand on my shoulders. When I squirm, they hold me tighter as if cementing me still. I let out a nervous laugh, feigning innocence. “What’s going on?”

The middle-aged woman adjusts her thick-rimmed glasses, scoffing like I was being impolite in the presence of royalty. “I run a tight-knit business, Jungkook. My wolves… They follow me. They listen to me. Because I’m honest and upfront. I don’t dish out bullshit.”

She stands, placing her hands behind her back as she circles the front of her desk, closing the gap between us. 

“Wolves like to fight. It’s in our nature to have some aggression. Here you can release it in a healthy, controlled environment,” she says. “When you first arrived, I liked you right away. The sheer arrogance you had, the drive to win—you were a natural for the ring. People bet on you because you never let them down.” She leans against her desk, lowering her glasses onto the tip of her nose bridge to look at me. “You don’t want to let people down, right?”

The bait can’t be more obvious, but I indulge her anyway. “Of course not.”

My answer seems to placate her and she puts her finger under my chin, tilting my head up. “Then I need you to tell me the truth. What are you, Jungkook?”

“I’m a wolf. Just like you, ma’am.” Not like that was a complete lie. I am a wolf. Half.

She grips my chin harder, her pupils blown so wide that they overtook her irises. “Is that all?”

“Look, it’s clear you know something so why don’t you…” She whips out a pistol from underneath the slit in her long dress and I stare down the barrel without moving a muscle. 

“There’s no fear in your eyes. Probably because you know and I know that this crummy little thing won’t kill you.” She pulls the trigger, but the shot is empty. I try my best not to scowl as she puts it away. “One of my men ran into a strange girl yesterday. She was hysterical, almost aggressive in asking about you.”

“Make your point.”

“She told me you were a hybrid. Is that true?”

I lean back against the chair, my shoulders less tense now that the secret is out. “Yes. So what? I’m still part wolf.”

“You’re half-wolf,” she corrects. “I don’t give a damn about you being a hybrid. But I do care that you weren’t fully transparent with me. And people talk. Word gets around I’m letting a hybrid take all the winnings and my business is done.”

“No one has to know.”

“Oh darling… she blabbed all over town about you. I’m sure everyone already knows. But I have a deal for you if you want to stay.”

Judging from her toothy smile, the chances of this deal being more beneficial for her than me are high. “What deal?”

“Do you know how much money I can make if I put two hybrids against each other?” she asks, flashing a smirk. “Especially with a pretty little thing like her against someone like you. The crowd would go wild.”

I shake my head. “I’ll pass. She’s not into cage fighting and I don’t hit women.”

“Who says she’s not?” I don’t like her tone and the insinuation behind it. “Darling, who do you think is taking your place right now?”

“What?”

“[Y/N] is fighting her heart out at this very moment. The wolves adore her. Probably because I said whoever beats her gets to breed her.”

This time I force myself to stand, knocking out both men when they attempt to grab me again with a one-two combo. They collapse with a resounding thud, and I head straight for Ms. Lim. I’m holding her dress collar and lifting her in the air, but she remains unphased.

“Where is she?”

“I see she’s important to you.”

“Where is she?!” I shout, not caring that I spit on her. 

“She turned you, right? How’d she do it? Did you two have sex?”

“I’m not asking you again,” I warn. She wraps her hand around my wrist, her irises shifting to a muted gold as she pries my hold off her, dislocating my hand. I curse in pain, fully prepared to retaliate, but she snaps her fingers three times. 

I hear footsteps from behind me and the door opens with a loud slam. Looking over my shoulder, I see about fifty men in black suits who are bigger than me enter the room. They all bear matching stoic expressions, but their fists are up and ready as their pointed glares shoot in my direction. 

“There isn’t much information on hybrids and experimenting on an Original is too good of an opportunity to pass up. I’m sure my boys would love to breed her. Then business would be booming with hybrid fighters at my side!” Ms. Lim cries.

My blood is boiling and I swear I’m seeing red. I snap my wrist back into place without breaking eye contact and backhand her across the face. She falls to the floor, stunned, holding the side of her cheek. “I thought you said you don’t hit women!”

“My apologies. I meant beautiful women.”

Three men grab me—one at each arm and the last holding my waist. The others line up, each taking a jab at me. The first punch is aimed at my stomach. One breaks my nose. Another hits me square in the jaw. I see stars by the time Ms. Lim stands, holding her hand up for them to stop. 

“How dare you? Oh, I’m going to make sure your little girlfriend is knocked up. Poor thing has no clue what plans I have for her.”

I muster enough strength to spit at her, flicking droplets of blood onto her face. She shrieks in disgust and slaps me in return. I only laugh like a madman.

“Good luck… she’s infertile…” I say, trying to find my breath. “And my girl can take care of herself. She won’t lose.”

“It’s okay. I can still find plenty of uses for her. If my boys can’t breed her, they can still fuck her once they’re done with you. I bet she screams pretty,” Ms. Lim says.

“You’re lying!”

“Am I?” She snaps her fingers again, prompting the last man who punched me to step forward. He pulls out something gold from his pocket, dangling it in front of me like a carrot for a rabbit. My face falls when I recognize the double moon charms. “Mr. Ahn here is the first one that defeated [Y/N]. He’ll get to have her first.”

The douchebag has a devilish grin as he slips the necklace over my head. He pats my cheek twice before smacking it hard on the third. I bare my teeth, more than ready to kick his ass, but other men are holding me still.

“I’m going to check the status of our beautiful prize and see if she’s ready for Mr. Ahn,” Ms. Lim declares, exiting the room with the sleazy bastard. Right before she closes the door, she sticks her head in and adds, “Whoever gets that necklace from him gets to have her next.”

The door shuts and I’m shouting curses at her until my throat is hoarse. All sense of self-control goes out the window as I unleash my wrath, my anger blinding me as my fists take control. In cage fights, I’ve had to hold back. But now? I’m ready to demolish anyone who gets in my way.

Your Point of View

After Jungkook kicked you out, you roamed the area for a place to stay. With your abilities, you had endless options: an inn, a motel, a farmhouse, or even the forest if you prefer. Heartbroken, you planned to wolf out until a middle-aged woman found you on the side of the road. 

She drove beside you, parked her car, and rolled down her windows. Your first instinct was to walk away, but she mentioned Jungkook and how she was his boss. She told you how her place wasn’t too far away, offering a place for you to stay the night. 

Questions kept pouring out of you, but she wouldn’t answer until you agreed to her offer. Your guard was up the whole night despite the fact she was a werewolf too. She doted on you with tea and snickerdoodles, but you didn’t dare take a bite until after she did.

Though you were on edge most of the night, her aura was warm, like a grandmother’s love or what you could only imagine as such. Your grandparents tried to eradicate you for being a hybrid, believing that your existence was an abomination. It’s funny how Ms. Lim, someone not blood-related, treated you far better than they ever did.

She answered your questions about Jungkook, but you didn’t dare overshare about your relationship with him. She persuaded you to join her the next day at work, offering the gym and free training sessions with her best fighters. You weren’t sure at first, but then ultimately gave in.

The next day Ms. Lim gave you a tour of the underground cellar and you couldn’t believe how massive it was. Everyone you encountered greeted you like one of the family, and you got to learn new fighting techniques with her bodyguards. 

When it was nighttime, Ms. Lim suggested you fight for real. You worried it’d be unfair, but she assured you the opponents were more than willing. 

Your first opponent is a man who looks like the descendant of a Viking. His muscles are so large you can see the veins bulging underneath his skin. He gives you a crooked smile, which you would’ve found somewhat attractive if he hadn’t made a sexist comment the next second.

“What’s a pretty girl like you doing in the ring? Hasn’t no one swept you off your feet and wed you yet?” You make the first move and use his words against him, sweeping him off his feet with your leg. He falls flat on his back and laughs while the crowd cheers. “It’s a shame. You’d make a great mother.”

“I’ll pass,” you say, sounding extra snarky. 

“Come on. You know you can’t beat me.”

The man got back up only to be taken down again with a skillful spin kick, causing his back to slam against the cage. You smirk as his expression shifts to anger, and he tackles you to the opposite side like a mad bull. Grunts come from both sides as you use your elbow, jabbing the top of his head until he lets go. 

You jump high and hang from the top of the cage, using your strong thighs to hold his head hostage. His oxygen depletes as his face turns purple, clawing at your legs but you don’t let up. His hands fall to his sides before his body collapses. Only then do you let go and land in a cool pose, feeling like a superhero. 

The crowd goes wild and you jump up and down like a kid who scored the winning goal. “I did it!”

You see why Jungkook loved this place so much. It’s an indescribable feeling, a rush of exhilaration as glory consumes you. 

Once you see Ms. Lim and her main bodyguard, you step out of the ring and greet her. “Ms. Lim, did you see? I won!”

She wraps her arm around your shoulder, giving you a toothy grin. “I know. I told you you’d do well. Let me show you your prize.”

You gasp. “I get a prize?” 

She leads you through the sea of fans. “Of course. Everyone gets compensated.”

You enter a door that leads you to a narrow hallway. The lights were dim, but it was enough for you to see something horrific. From where you stand to the door at the end are unconscious bodies strewn across the floor. Some are slumped against the wall, others are flat on their back or stomachs, each carrying some deformity. There’s blood splattered on the floor, but it wasn’t gorey enough to be deemed a bloodbath (though the sight was still alarming).

“What the fuck happened?” you ask. Ms. Lim screams in shock when she steps in, covering her mouth as she stumbles back. If not for Mr. Ahn, she probably would’ve fallen.

The door at the end of the corridor opens and you hear ragged breathing. There you see Jungkook stagger out, barely able to hold himself up with one arm. He has cuts on his face and a black eye, so his vision is halved. His tank top is in shreds, the fabric hanging by a thread as it dangles from his bruised body. 

He regains part of his strength once he sees you. “[Y/N]?”

You rush over to catch him before he falls. “Jungkook, what happened?!”

He’s putting his entire weight on you, close to fainting. But one look at Ms. Lim and he’s fired up. “That bitch… I’m gonna kill her…”

Ms. Lim wastes no time, urging Mr. Ahn to run away with her while you’re left bamboozled. “Ms. Lim?”

“She’s going to pay… She’s going to…”

Jungkook can’t fight his body’s limits anymore. The last thing he sees is darkness.

Sunlight pours through the window, stirring Jungkook from his slumber. He slowly opens one eye, surprised to see snow-covered trees and clear skies outside. In a daze, he sits up, holding his side as a sharp pain shoots through his body. He’s quick to notice his upper body has been covered in gauze and bandages. 

Whoever did it was meticulous. His chest and shoulders are tightly bound in layers, protecting his battered torso. The bandages crisscrossed over his ribcage, some were wrapped around his biceps, with the gauze extending down to his forearms. Bloodstains seeped through while he was asleep, but they don’t warrant any concern for now.

Jungkook touches his face, finding the cut on his cheek and upper lip taken care of. His other eye is no longer swollen, allowing him to observe his surroundings. He sees he’s in a cozy room, the wood ceiling and floors making him believe he’s at a lodge. There’s a large window to his right as well as a nightstand. The lamp sitting atop casts a warm golden glow, and Jungkook turns it off by pulling the string. 

There’s a gentle knock on the door. “Jungkook? Are you awake?”

He lays back down, covering his body with the duvet and closing his eyes as if he had never woken up. The doorknob jostles as you enter the room, holding a cup of water. You see his state and tip-toe closer, setting the mug on the nightstand. 

Staring at people while they sleep is creepy, but Jungkook looks angelic. Even if his face was marred, it didn’t stunt his beauty. If anything, his injuries made him more beautiful, the bandages being proof of his protectiveness. What he was protecting, you don’t know. 

“When you wake up, we seriously have a lot to talk about,” you whisper, pulling a nearby stool to sit on. “I don’t know why you did what you did. Ms. Lim and her men were so nice to me. She let me stay at her place after you kicked me out.”

You stick your tongue at him like a brat but end up giggling at your immaturity. 

“You were right to kick me out though,” you say, sighing. “Even with the best intentions, I can’t make things right. I’m sorry. Trust me, no one is more frustrated with me than me. That’s why when Ms. Lim suggested for me to fight, I didn’t hesitate.”

You ball your fists. “But it was so fun. I won my fight like bam! Bam! Bam!” You punch the air at each onomatopoeia, and Jungkook has to refrain from laughing. Why were you so cute?

“I get why you do it now. I’ve always had to fight for survival. I didn’t think it could be… gratifying. Anyway, I support your cage-fighting career,” You purse your lips. “But I guess you don’t have one anymore, considering what you did back there. I’m honestly confused. Why did you hurt them? I chased after Ms. Lim and uh… well, she burned your house down.”

You wait a second as if he’d respond. “She told us to never come back with no explanation… I didn’t even get my prize for winning,” you huff. 

Jungkook grunted, almost like he didn’t like what he was hearing. He turns onto his side, so he’d be facing away from you and wraps himself in a blanket burrito. The spot where he once lay had something gold in it. You carefully pick it up and caress the double moon charms with your thumb.

“My necklace…”

You stare at the back of his head, the gears in your head turning as you try to put the puzzle pieces together. Upon closer inspection, you notice faint bloodstains on the back of the charms and some on the chain.

“Did one of those men have my necklace? You beat up thirty men for it?”

“It was around fifty, but who’s counting?”

Your breath hitches, wondering if you were hearing things. Jungkook slowly sits up, resting his back against the headboard and flashing a cheeky grin. Heat spreads to the apples of your cheeks. 

“Were you awake this whole time?”

“Maybe.” He gives you a quick once over. “Are you hurt? Did anyone touch you?”

“Hmm? I’m fine. I should be asking you that. You took a beating and I’m still confused as to why.”

He slumps against the headboard, sagging like a dramatic blob. “God, you’re dense.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? My necklace is all bloody… was this the prize Ms. Lim intended to give me?”

Jungkook rolls his eyes so far back they might as well get stuck. “Ms. Lim’s prize wasn’t the necklace. It was you. You were her men’s prize after the fight. She planned to let them have their way with you.”

Your eyes fall to the ground, your heart heavier than an anchor in a bottomless sea. Jungkook sees how you clutch the necklace in your fist, wishing he hadn’t revealed the truth so bluntly. 

“Hey… I’m sorry,” he begins. “I didn’t mean to…”

“No. I was naive. After what happened with my grandmother, I thought Ms. Lim was different. Anyway,” you say, changing the subject. “That’s why you did what you did?”

“I thought she had you trapped somewhere. Or that without your necklace, you were at a disadvantage. She told me Mr. Ahn defeated you and I just went berserk at the thought of something happening to you.”

It’s hard not to see the love he has for you in those beautiful eyes of his. “I never fought Mr. Ahn, but I’m pretty sure I would’ve won. I’m freakin’ awesome in the ring.”

Jungkook chuckles. “I know. I never doubted your skills. She riled me up and I assumed the worst.”

“Well… Thank you for looking out for me. I’m glad to have my necklace back. I thought I lost it for good.”

“I thought I lost you.”

Time comes to a standstill. No more words are shared, yet so much is being said through simple eye contact, an unspoken language only the two of you understand. Your hearts are burning, aching with desire, but you don’t dare act on it. You don’t deserve him. At least, that’s what you tell yourself to maintain restraint. 

“Can I put it on you?” he asks, pointing to the piece of jewelry in your hand. 

“Oh! Yeah, sure.” A white glow emits from your fist and when you open your palm, Jungkook sees the necklace is spotless. You hand it to him and shift positions, so your back is towards him. He scoots closer, his legs now dangling off the bed. 

When he brushes your hair away, your body tenses up. You see the gold chain from above before it settles on your collarbone. Jungkook leans in, getting a better view of the clasp but struggles to attach it. Seconds tick by like hours, but you don’t mind how long he takes. His hot breath on the nape of your neck is distracting you anyway.

“Almost got it…” he mumbles. And thank goodness too because you didn’t realize you were holding your breath the entire time. Once he’s finished, he leans back but you turn your head to the side and almost end up kissing him.

“Oh sorry, I—” You move away, but he places his hand on the back of your neck, holding you in place. 

“Stay.”

Stay still? Stay with him? Whatever he meant, it sounded like a command, a challenge, a test. You’re entranced by how close he is, your nose about to touch his, and his lips—fuck. They’re drawing near, but he stops a centimeter away and smirks like a damn tease. You swear you’re on fire, the heat radiating off his body further exacerbating things. 

His eyes droop down, but it’s not to your lips. Rather, he takes his free hand and holds the double moon charms between his forefinger and thumb, sliding it until it’s positioned in the center. 

“There,” he says, still far too close. There’s a deep yearning in his eyes, a passion he longs to share with you, but he’s holding himself back. “Don’t go anywhere.”

You pout. “What, suddenly you’re okay with me around?”

“Seeing you drives me mad, but not seeing you makes me insane,” An aw almost slips out of you, but you nod instead. “I’m trying so hard to hate you…” he whispers.

You match his volume. “Why?”

“Because it’s easier than admitting the opposite.” He finally releases his hold and leans back, allowing you to regain a semblance of sanity. “So where are we exactly?”

You fiddle with your necklace and try not to dwell on his words. “I used a teleportation spell and it took us here.”

“Randomly?”

“No. I didn’t know what to do, so I cast a spell to take me to Professor Jin. He’s here with Namjoon. They’re on vacation.” 

All of a sudden Jungkook groans and he’s clutching his abdomen. “Ah fuck...”

You jump out of your seat to examine him closer. “What’s going on?”

Sweat forms on his upper lip, his body temperature rising steadily as if someone turned on the heater to its max. It’s an all too familiar feeling. He laughs at the horrid timing, but it exacerbates his pain.

“I’m going to need you to learn a new spell,” he says, panting so much you fear he’d pass out.

“Why?”

“Because I’m about to go into a rut,” he answers, glaring at you like you’ve made a grave mistake, “and I don’t have boxing to distract me anymore.”

“Do you want me to help—” 

“No,” You can’t help but feel offended, and undesired, but he adds, “I don’t want to take advantage of you. It’s not right.”

“Okay…” You rub your arm and like the keen observer he was, he tacks on another thing and you’re not sure if he’s trying to make you feel better or himself. 

“I don’t give consent because it’s out of my control. Our time together shouldn’t be influenced or pressured because of other circumstances.”

You almost laugh at the hilarity of that statement. “Isn’t that the whole basis of our relationship? Everything always comes with a condition. This is exactly why I left…”

Jungkook’s pained expression morphs into something worse—dismay. You go for damage control, wishing you could take those words back and shove them far into the depths of your mind where they couldn’t hurt anyone. 

“I’m sorry,” you say, full of regret, “I shouldn’t have said that. If you say no, I understand. It’s a no.”

“It’s fine. Not like you’re wrong. Can you go get Jin please?”

Jungkook’s Point Of View

I want to tear these bandages off. And then my skin. It’s too damn hot and the timer on my sanity is dwindling. The snow outside looks inviting and is the only blanket I want covering me. 

A knock on the door garners my attention and [Y/N] rushes in, carrying something silver between her fingers.

“Sorry for the wait, I got it!” Fuck, she smells incredible. There’s nothing on Earth that can compare to her delicate, sweet aroma. It’s my Kryptonite, my guilty pleasure. Once she draws near, I pin her to the bed, ignoring the soreness of the muscles I was supposed to be recuperating. “Jungkook?”

I snuggle into the crook of her neck, inhaling her scent like some deranged pervert as I squeeze her hip. The closest description is like a honey-sweet fruit, ripe for picking. But fruit bruises easily when they fall into the wrong hands. And now she’s in mine.

She whimpers softly, and it only further fuels my arousal. “It shouldn’t be this easy yet your hold over me is… pathetic.”

I hover over her face and bring a hand up to squeeze her cheeks, forcing her lips to pucker. Cute. 

“Do you know what filthy things I want to do to you? I’ve been fantasizing for years about this moment,” I say, unable to contain my smirk. Her chest heaves against mine and the panic that flashes across her face is adorable. I loosen my grip a bit so she can reply. 

“Tell me then,” she breathes and I chuckle at how wobbly her voice sounds. 

“I wanna fuck you like I hate you. It’s not going to be that tender bullshit, I’m going to be rough. I’m going to use you and all your holes until you’re screaming and I’m the only one that occupies your thoughts, so you can see the hell you put me through when you left. I’m going to bring you to heaven only to drag you back down to Earth and make you sin harder.”

I can smell much more than fear coming from her silence. Her fingers are clutching what I can now see is a silver body chain. She’s fast, but I’m faster as I pin her wrist down before she can put it on me. Her hand is hanging over the edge of the bed and I grip her wrist, upping the pressure and twisting slightly until she groans in pain, dropping the chain. It falls with a soft clink and I give her an amused grin.

“Was that mediocre thing supposed to quell my urges?” I taunt.

“Ideally, yes,” she remarks, unable to hide her bratty attitude. “Let me put it on you.”

“No.”

She gives me a look like I’m a bad child about to be put on time-out. Maybe I want to be bad. “Jungkook.”

“Come on… you said it yourself. You want to help,” I use my thigh to part her legs. “I’m in desperate need of it.”

She scoots her body upwards to get away, but like a parasite, I latch on and follow, pressing my entire body weight on her. “Jungkook, no. You said no. This isn’t you.”

“Oh, but what if it is?” She stops squirming and my eyes widen like I’ve gone insane, glad to have her attention. “What if this dark, twisted, horny part of me is who I am? What if I want to ravage you and my rut is simply pushing me to finally not hold back on loving you?”

“You… love me?”

Somehow that question pulls me from the depths of lust for a split second. “I never stopped.”

There’s a silent period where we stare at each other. Sometimes I think we’d hold the world record for how long one can zone out, lost in a world of our own. But my needs resurface, clouding my mind with crazed lust. I’m corrupted by something I can’t control and no matter how hard I resist, she’ll be in the crossfire.

She must have noticed her small window of opportunity because she pushed me off with her inhumane strength. I bounce on the mattress when I land on my back as she scrambles to grab the chain off the floor. She makes a break for the door, but I block it, tackling her to the ground so I can feel her soft body against mine again. 

We tussle and roll around like animals, the chain flying across the floor during the scuffle. It’s a wild game of Capture The Flag, each of us diving for the coveted item. She’s on her stomach, crawling towards it until I take her ankles and drag her backward, cackling like a madman. And like in horror movies, she screams and squirms, kicking me until I let go. 

She drags her body forward, snatches the chain, flips around, and clamps her thighs around my head. Her strong muscles could probably break a watermelon, but I welcome the constriction.

“Ooh, yes, make it hurt,” I choke out, wheezing out a short laugh. Revulsion in her scowl, she cages me in tighter, and I pull back so she slides towards me. Using my remaining strength, I lift her so she’s now perched atop my shoulders, her sweet pussy right where I want it. I dart my tongue out to lick a stripe, the barrier of her leggings so thin that she yelps from the contact.

I’m on my knees and I move forward, pressing her back against the wall. It supports her weight and I pin her hands down, so she can’t sneak the chain on me. She’s shouting at me, but I only hum in return, so she can feel the vibrations of my lips close to her lower ones. 

“Jungkook, let me go!”

“I can already taste you… such arrogance to think you can handle me.”

I look up through her thighs, earning a sharp inhale from her. “Trust me… I’ve been holding back.”

She chants foreign words under her breath and my ears soon discover a sharp ringing noise, making my brain feel like it’s being shredded by a cheese grater. I hold my head with both hands, toppling over and releasing her as we both fall to the floor. When the cacophony subsides, I see she’s standing above me with the lamp. She’s ruthless as she smashes it against my head, the glass shards scattering everywhere. 

I lay on my stomach, dazed, and she put the chain on me hastily. It glows as it erases all forms of rage and lust, and my mind clears while my soul aligns. That’s when the painful sensations of my injuries I had ignored earlier hit me in full force. 

With impeccable timing, the door to our room swings open, and in comes Jin and Namjoon. Jin has his arms up in a fighting pose, his hands encasing two pink orbs prepared for attack. Namjoon has his crossbow gun pointed at me until [Y/N] waves him off with a dismissive gesture.

“You’re a bit late. Put it down.”

The orbs flicker out and Namjoon lowers his weapon, being the first to speak. “What happened?”

“Things got… rough. I put the chain on him. He’s fine now.”

“Easy for you to say,” I mutter. “Can someone please get the first aid kit? I’m bleeding again…”

Your Point of View

Jin’s making it a point to be hospitable. He dragged you around the lodge, indulging you in all the amenities the lodge offers. From paying for your food and drinks to complimentary snowboarding, it was almost like he was overcompensating. 

While he was gracefully swerving down the hill, you spent most of your time falling face-first into the snow, frustrated at the bulky clothes you had on. You called it quits and he finally yielded to your pleas.

Back at the lodge, you shed yourself of your multiple layers, feeling like an onion. At least now you can caramelize by the fireplace in the lobby while sipping on a piping-hot cup of cocoa. 

Jin makes his presence known, plopping himself onto the same futon where you sat with a refreshed “Ah, hot cocoa. Delicious!”

You roll your eyes when he holds his mug out, but you clink your cup against his anyway. “I hope you and Namjoon had your fun in the shower. That’s a nasty hickey.”

He coughs, adjusting his turtleneck to cover up said blemish. “Sorry. I didn’t know you would need me.”

“It’s fine,” you say, glancing around for any unwanted spectators. You whisper the next part. “I grabbed your spellbook and did it myself.”

He bears a proud smile, looking like he is about to deliver well-deserved praises when suddenly, his expression falls. Setting down his beverage, he seemed rather pale despite being near the fireplace. He looks up at the night sky and you follow his gaze. “Oh shit…”

You set down your drink too, paying no mind as it sloshes enough to spill over. “Jin… what’s wrong?”

“It’s a full moon…”

“Yeah. And?”

He shoots up like a rocket and sprints upstairs to his room. You follow at once, off-put by his erratic behavior. He’s found his spellbook on the bed where you left it, flipping through the pages so quickly, you thought they’d rip. Once he settles on the desired section, he shoves the book in your face. 

“Is this the spell you used?!”

You eye the page in its fancy script, seeing the same picture of a wolf howling under the moon. “Yes. It says Binding Chain at the top and I read it. It suppresses a male’s rut.”

“Did you see the fine print?”

“There’s a fine print?” you echo. Skimming the page, you squint at the very bottom to see an anecdote at the bottom marked with an asterisk. You read it out loud. “On the night of a full moon, the binding chain’s powers are reversed. Rather than suppressing a rut, the male’s urges will be amplified…”

The book shuts and you’re greeted by Jin’s stern look. It’s the same one he gave you that time you set his hair on fire by accident. “The closer it gets to midnight, the more unhinged Jungkook will be. This is why you should’ve asked me for help.”

“How was I supposed to know? He was in pain and you were bumping uglies with Namjoon!”

“Spells like this are tricky, especially for novices. We don’t even know if you did it right.”

“Gee, thanks for the bode of confidence.”

A concerned voice from the doorway calls out to you and Jin. “Whoa, whoa, what’s going on here?”

You both turn to see Namjoon in his winter gear, covered in snow like he was a dessert dusted with powdered sugar. Jin walks over and brushes some off his furry hat. “[Y/N] used the wrong spell for Jungkook. His rut is about to come back tenfold and it won’t be pretty.”

“It’s not my fault,” you argue. “If you and he weren’t fucking each other, this wouldn’t have happened!”

“Okay… this is horrible timing,” Namjoon says with a forced awkward laugh. Jin holds him by the shoulders.

“Honey… where’s Jungkook?”

“I… lost something important when we got here. Jungkook and I went out to look for it. I gave up, but he’s stubborn and is still out there.”

You look out the window and see the snowfall getting heavier, each flake larger and more frequent as it piles on the thick blanket that already covers the ground. Visibility was diminishing and you could barely see the outline of the moon in the sky. 

“I’m going to get him,” you say, determined. They look at you like you have three heads. “I’m the only one who can handle him on a night like this.”

“It’s dangerous. The snow is getting worse out there,” Namjoon warns.

“Yeah, and whose fault is it that he’s still out there? He may be immortal, but he has limits too.”

Namjoon recognizes your stubbornness; you share that with Jungkook. He pulls out his phone, hastily texts something, and sends it, which triggers a chime on your phone. 

“There’s a cabin out there that I use on my missions sometimes. You’ll find a cage in the basement that can hold Jungkook for the night. Food, water, clothes, sedatives, weapons—you name it.”

He offers you his crossbow gun, but you decline. “I can get through to him.”

“Are you sure?”

“No. But… It doesn’t feel right to hurt him. I’ll be fine.”

“Okay. Stay safe. We’ll come find you in the morning.”

Winter is the superior season, some would say. Because with the cold, you can layer clothes nonstop until you’re warm. Newsflash: that’s a lie. You’re freezing your ass off despite your best efforts to combat the frost, but Mother Nature couldn’t resist challenging your limits.  

The weather has taken a turn for the worse as snow swirls around you, making it difficult to see or hear anything. You trudge through it, the flame in your palm being the only source of light and heat as harsh gusts of wind threaten to extinguish it. 

Your magic was technically infinite, considering your necklace was a conductor for it. The jewelry siphons the magic from your hybrid body and allows you to use it like a witch would. However, like with most things, if you overdo it, it drains your energy and weakens its potency. 

When you reach the forest, the wind howls through the trees as your breath comes out in heavy puffs. Each step you take sinks deeper than the previous one until you’re knee-deep in snow. The ground is uneven and your steps slow because even the slightest misstep could be your last. With no one around for miles, this was not the way you wanted to go out. 

You don’t know how much time has passed, but the flame flickers until darkness remains. 

“No… no… please…” You wrap your arms around yourself, the biting cold unforgiving. A rustle in the distance alerts your fight-or-flight and you scan your surroundings, seeing a dark silhouette who you can only assume is… “Jungkook?”

Whoever it was burst into a sudden sprint in the opposite direction. Your body has a mind of its own, chasing him down without hesitation. You reach a clearing where his broad back faces you, the moon casting a soft glow behind his figure. He turns around, revealing his ruby red eyes with streaks of gold, which sparkle like luster dust in water. 

His face is unreadable until you risk a step forward. 

“Don’t come closer!” he barks, startling you to retract back. The hurt in your eyes breaks him, but he couldn’t bear to be a burden for you to shoulder. “I feel like I’m going crazy. You shouldn’t be here.”

“It’s the full moon. The body chain is making things worse. I can—”

“No!” He bares his teeth and bends his knees as if preparing to pounce. “You need to leave. Now!”

Falling onto all fours, he lets out a strangled groan, cursing like there was no tomorrow. His bones snap, pop out of place, and lengthen to create a new foundation for his werewolf form. It was like all his organs were set ablaze, the searing pain shooting throughout his body. You deny his request and take another step. 

“Stay… away!” he orders, his voice roughed and strained.

His head hangs low, clawing the snow beneath him. Though shapeshifting was a great distraction, doing so during a rut could have unpredictable circumstances. It was far too dangerous; he knew better but was desperate for relief. 

“Run…” he breathes, lifting his head. Your legs tremble from his unwavering, lethal gaze. “Run!!!” His canines peek through when he growls at you once more and you are hit with the severity of the situation. Fear strikes through you like a javelin and combined with your rush of adrenaline, you escape the premises. 

Everything is a blur as you zig-zag through the snow-capped trees in the forest. You don’t stop running until your lungs burn to the point where you’re about to vomit. Despite how numb your fingers are, you check your phone, looking up the location of the cabin. It’s not too far away and if you can manage to lure Jungkook there, he’ll be safe for the night.

An eerie howl startles you and you trek forward, looking over your shoulder every so often. It’s not until you come across a line of forestry, where there’s a gap in the middle of two trees. Upon closer inspection, you squint at the darkness that sits between them, and two glowy orbs greet you. 

A low snarl sends chills up your spine as two black paws emerge into the moonlight before their true form follows. You’re face to face with the big black wolf, its eyes glowing with feral intensity. The body chain’s magic allowed for the accessory to enlarge, accommodating Jungkook’s new size. 

“Jungkook…”

He doesn’t respond, almost like that name was foreign to him. All he does is crouch, and you start to regret not having a weapon. With a growl, he lunges at you, powerful muscles rippling under his fur. You barely dodge in time, but his claws graze your arm, ripping through my coat and drawing blood. 

Damn. I’m getting sloppy. I need blood.

You clutch onto the wound, hissing at him as your eyes shift to fiery gold. “Stop! Jungkook, it’s me!”

He circles you like a shark, instilling more fear before he pounces again. His heavy weight forces your body to topple backward, the snow cushioning your fall, and soon stained a vivid crimson. Jungkook had bitten your shoulder this time, his fangs sinking deep. 

Not even your blood-curdling scream dissuades him from prying his jaw off. You feel the prick of tears behind your eye, but you push through it, using your remaining good arm to punch him. The wolf is hurled about twenty feet away and you force yourself up.

“Okay… it’s clear you’re more beast than man right now…” you say, panting as more blood trickles onto the snow. The wolf shakes its head and slowly rises, its predatory gaze stripping you of your fortitude. 

Just then a deep rumble beneath your feet alerts you to look up, where the heart of the mountain was. The signs are there: the snowpack drifting, ominous cracks in the ground, and a thunderous roar as snow cascades down the landform.

“Shit…” you say, running in the opposite direction. “Come on! Chase me!”

Thankfully you don’t have to ask twice. Jungkook’s hot on your trail as the snow is on his. The ground continues to shake, the avalanche's roar deafening, drowning out all other sounds. Both your lives are at stake and you run to the cabin up ahead, your breath coming in ragged gasps.

As you reach the door, you swipe the keycard Namjoon lent you, the faint click giving you a moment of reprieve. You throw the door open at the same time Jungkook tackles you from behind. You stumble forward, his weight crushing you as he slashes your back with his sharp claws. 

Now you’re pissed.

You flip onto your back, clutching his paws while his jaw snaps towards your face, spit flying everywhere. 

“God, Jungkook! Get a grip!” You grunt as you exert your muscles, throwing him into the living room area. A wooden table is smashed into bits and the TV screen has a crack down the middle, but you don’t care. You kick the door shut just as the avalanche slams into the ground outside, its force shaking the cabin walls. 

The noise is overwhelming, but it distracts the beast long enough for you to search for the basement. The cabin’s small space makes it easy as one narrow door sits in the corner, so you try your luck. There’s a set of steep, wooden stairs and you descend quickly, seeing dim recess ceiling lights that cast a soft yellow glow. 

Unlike the cabin, the basement was underground and wide, with ample space for the cage Namjoon had promised. It’s in the furthest left corner with thick chains attached to the floor and ceiling. A workbench greets you once you reach the last step, filled with various weapons and tranquilizers you were all too familiar with.

Due to his hybrid nature, your best bet is to grab the syringe with vervain and wolfsbane. Reassurance is but a fleeting moment when Jungkook descends the stairs too, determined to finish you off. 

He bites your leg this time, and you jam the syringe into his neck simultaneously. Once the wolf loses consciousness, you stumble backward and hit your head on the edge of the workbench, drifting into darkness.

Jungkook’s Point of View

Something wet touches my fingers and it stirs me awake. My muscles are screaming, feeling like I have been hit by a semi-truck. I open my eyes, forcing myself to sit up and look at my hands. 

“Oh my god…”

Red is all I see. I’m covered in it. My lips taste it. But I don’t remember how it got there and that scares me. However, I look over to see [Y/N]’s unconscious body next to me. The blood is hers, pooling from her head and her body looks like a corpse from a crime scene. I’m terrified now, crawling over to her while my body shakes. 

“No… please.” 

I saw the gruesome claw marks on her arm, the nasty bites on her shoulder and leg, and her head wound that was still bleeding. I lift her head first, then her back, seeing the scratches there too. I don’t know what to do other than hold her close, listening for signs of life. It’s faint, but she’s breathing. 

“Who did this to you?” I breathe, but the question is stupid. I’m covered in evidence of my crimes, a sin with no solution. Her face looks sickly, so I bite my wrist and put it against her lips, forcing her to drink my blood for sustenance. 

I choke out a sob when I don’t see a difference.

“I’m so sorry…” I kiss the top of her head, praying to anyone who hears it, to bring her back to me. 

“Jungkook…”

I thought I was hearing things until she calls for me again. It’s a fucking miracle. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean… I didn’t mean to…”

“Shh… haven’t you heard of kissing a person’s boos-boos?” Her lips curl into a faint smile and I’m thrown for a loop. How can she speak so lightly about the horrors I’ve committed?

“You must have a concussion. I need to patch you up.”

“No. Kiss my wounds, silly. Just like you did to my head.”

I was too distraught to realize, but the blood on the rug we were on had vanished. Her hair no longer smells of iron either and realization dawns on me.

“Okay. Let me help you get out of your clothes first.”

It’s not a smooth process, but she handles it like a champ as I maneuver her coat, shirt, and tank top off. I pause every so often when she winces, making sure she’s comfortable before I move on. Her boots come off next and then her leggings, leaving her only in her undergarments. 

Lying her flat on her back, I get on top and kiss her shoulder area first. It’s a magical sight watching the wound seal itself as new skin regenerates while the blood evaporates. She coos at the relief, giving me a warm smile. 

“That feels nice.”

I head for her arm next, giving it several smooches to cover the claw marks. Each one repairs itself the same way. I lean back on my knees, holding her leg up until it reaches my lips and I leave another kiss there. Her eyes shimmer in excitement as do mine when the bite heals. 

“Can you turn around for me?” I ask. She gets on all fours, exposing her back to me. It was the nastiest injury yet, the laceration deep and red. I don’t care and kiss every inch of her skin until it goes away, noticing how she shivers each time. 

Once she’s fully healed, I see a cage in the corner and eye the chains inside. I get up and head there, frantically trying to get the cuffs on. She follows me and I curse at my shaky hands for being too slow. 

“What are you doing now?” she asks as if it’s not obvious.

“Damn it all, why can’t I get this on?!” She places her hands on mine, steadying them until they stop trembling. “[Y/N], please. I need to be chained up. It’s dangerous for you to be here, I almost killed you!”

“But you didn’t. I’m fine. I knew the risks.”

“Why didn’t you beat me senseless? I deserved it.”

She shakes her head, still able to give me a soft smile as if I didn’t try to maul her to death however long ago. “Because your rut… it’s not easy to deal with. And I couldn’t stand the thought of hurting you. Besides, I messed up on the spell.”

She points to the body chain on me. “On a full moon, it amplifies your rut. Not suppress it.”

I drop the cuffs and grab the body chain instead, ready to yank it off when she snatches my wrists. 

“Don’t,” she orders. “I want it on.”

My eyes widen. “This thing almost got you killed.”

“It’s hot on you.”

“Are you okay? Is your head fully healed? Why are you—”

She pecks me on the lips to shut me up. It’s cute, sweet, and simple. Sometimes I wish we were simple. 

“Jungkook… ever since I saw you at the wedding, I haven’t been able to heal properly,” she confesses. 

My hands drop to my sides. “What? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I wasn’t sure. But whenever I got a cut, it healed but not as fast as it usually did. And I thought about when I got hurt at the wedding, how you kissed my hand, and how fast it healed then. This has never happened to me before, but I realized… I can’t be without you.”

She caresses the side of my face and I shiver at her gentle touch, placing a chaste kiss on her palm. “No… you were right to leave. I’m dangerous.”

A finger comes up to my lips. “Shh… our fates are entwined whether you like it or not, you stupid bastard,” I can’t help but chuckle and she giggles. It lights up my world. “When you said you never stopped loving me back at the lodge… were you serious?”

“As a heart attack,” Her expression is teetering between fondness and confusion. “Sorry, that’s not romantic, huh?”

“It is to me. I love you too.”

Her confession triggers something in me. It's a carnal, animalistic need and I realize my rut is surging back with renewed intensity. 

“My love, I need you to make a choice,” I say with labored breathing. Sweat coats my hair, matting it to my forehead. My body feels like I’m being incinerated inside out. “I want you permanently. Not temporarily. Body and soul. Your devotion. If you stay…”

“I’ll stay. I promise,” she says without a trace of hesitation. But I can’t help but be reminded of the past.

“How do I know you won’t leave again?”

She ponders her answer but then says, “Because when I’m not focused on my future, I’m focused on ours.” 

It brings me immense joy, but my lust drowns it out. 

“Okay. We’re going to need a safe word. Or you need to promise you’ll defend yourself against me by any means if it becomes too much.”

“Jungkook—”

“I mean it. Because everything I said at the lodge was true. Everything.”

She wets her lips at the memory, which tempts me with depravity. “Are you okay if I’m still infertile?”

“I never minded it. Because I’m going to fuck you like I’m gonna breed you anyway.” 

She nods. “... Red.”

“Red,” I repeat and then I’m all over her.

Your Point of View

Jungkook lunges at you, his movements a blur of desperate need. You’re pressed against the iron bars of the cage as he kisses you like he’ll devour you whole. His hands roam your body to tear off your bra and panties, and you gasp, but he swallows it by kissing you deeper.

His hands are greedy, kneading your breasts in circular motions. He twists one of your nipples with his forefinger and thumb, the sensation borderlining pain and pleasure, but you succumb to it. Especially when he stops kissing you to lower himself, sucking on your other nipple. He doesn’t hold back and tugs on it between his teeth, earning a mewl from you. 

When he pulls back, he releases it with an audible pop before giving the other one the same treatment. Your hands run through his hair, gripping hard enough to make him moan with hunger. He pushes your breasts together, so he’s able to suck both nipples simultaneously. The sight enraptures you, and you swear he’s the most attractive man alive. 

“I can’t wait, I need you now. I need you many… many times tonight,” he says after he’s left several purple constellations in his wake. You’re turned around, holding onto the bars for support as his bicep slithers around your neck. His lips find purchase on the shell of your ear. “God, I want to destroy you.”

He slips his thick cock in between your thighs, feeling the copious amount of slickness between your folds. He thrusts back and forth and you rock your hips in tandem, appreciating his restraint. Each time his tip brushes against your clit, you moan to the ceiling while he groans against your neck. 

You’re sensitive, on the brink of an orgasm, but Jungkook comes first. White spurts of cum spill out from his tip, and he shudders when you use your hand to coax out more. 

“Fuck, I can’t hold on anymore. I’d do more to prep you, but I can’t wait. I’m sorry.” 

Despite coming already, Jungkook was still fully erect. You swore he might’ve even gained an inch. He was deliciously massive, blessed in both girth and length. 

“It’s okay. I can take it,” you assure. 

“If it’s too much?”

“I say red.”

Jungkook holds onto your hips and pulls you back, your body now parallel to the floor at a ninety-degree angle. You arch your back and stick your ass out for him, even going far as to shake your peach to tantalize him. Without needing to guide it, he slams his dick into you with such violence that it leaves you winded. 

He wastes no time thrusting, his pace desperate, rushed, and greedy to satisfy an insatiable hunger. You’re holding onto the bars for dear life as he fucks you like it’s his last day on Earth. There’s a burn that comes with not having time to adjust to his inhumane size, but you endure. Lust covers a world of hurt and the stretch ignites a fervor. 

The basement is filled with sounds of skin slapping against skin and unabashed moaning. Jungkook grips your hips so tight, they bruise. He smacks your ass multiple times, each sting resulting in a tighter clench from your soaking pussy, which drives him wild.  You love how he stretches you out, how he’s using you like a dumb fucktoy for his cravings. You want to please him because it pleases you. 

Without warning, he pistons into you faster, and you can barely see straight. His last thrust is sharp and calculated, a rough grunt escaping him as he empties himself into you. Your legs are trembling when he pulls out, admiring how his cum oozes out of you. 

Sliding down to the ground, you rest your back against the cage and close your eyes to catch a break. However, Jungkook smacks your cheeks a couple of times to get your attention. He’s erect again, no surprise. You swear with each orgasm, he’s getting bigger. 

“Are you okay?” he asks. 

“Yes.”

“Good girl.”

He places a hand on your head, guiding your lips to his throbbing cock. It’s coated in shared body fluids, but you open your mouth like an automated response until he slides himself in. You gag when he hits the back of your throat and he pulls out, but not all the way. You have to mentally prepare yourself for what comes next as he grabs ahold of both sides of your head, fucking your face as he pleases. 

You’re choking and saliva dribbles down to your breasts, your eyes sting with tears, but he keeps going and you take the abuse. He doesn’t hold your head lovingly. Rather, his hand cages you in, guiding you however he sees fit. Your jaw is sore, but that’s a small price to pay when you have the most gorgeous man throwing his head back in bliss because of you. 

Once his hips stutter and he comes again, you swallow the slightly bitter fluid and he releases you.

“Get up.”

You’re a bit dizzy, so he helps you to your feet. You see him squat and bring your legs atop his shoulders. In one swift motion, he stands with you perched atop and you squeal, holding his head in fear of falling. 

“Jungkook!”

“Hold onto the cage.”

You don’t question him and do just that, thinking about how this was the same way you took down your opponent back at the farm. However, the only danger here was Jungkook having you right where he wanted you.

He sticks his tongue out and begins lapping up your juices from earlier. You’re unable to process being suspended in the air while getting eaten out at the same time. It’s thrilling, and you almost sob when he invades your walls and tongue-fucks you. The slurping noises that leave him are obscene. It’s as if you were his last meal, which only coaxes out more arousal. It’s too much when your orgasm nears, but he grabs your ass tighter and everything snaps.

You’re screaming his name, rolling your eyes in the back of your head. Your ears ring, your toes curl, and you shut your eyes to ride the waves of bliss. You don’t even realize when you’re back on the ground because it feels like you’re not even on the same planet anymore. 

And suddenly you’re in the air again. Jungkook grabs the underside of your thighs and lifts you, your legs perched around his waist and your hands around his neck. He uses one hand to guide his tip to your entrance, and your breath hitches. 

“We’re not done yet.”

“I never want you to be. Use me.”

He sinks you onto his cock, bouncing you like a rag doll. You hold each other close, staring intensely into each other’s eyes. Everything burns inside Jungkook’s body. His thighs, his arms, his heart—but that pain fuels him to fuck you harder. You kiss him first this time, inserting your tongue and sliding it against his. It’s sloppy but erotic, and he only ups his speed. 

He doesn’t last long and comes again, but you wait until he decides to put you down. You’re on your back now and he places a sweet kiss on your forehead.

“God, I wanna fill you up again. Breed you until you’re exhausted.”

He has hold of your ankles, bringing them up high until your knees hug your chest as he inserts himself again. You can see his fat cock going in and out of you, his cock creamy and white from your slick. Your tummy bulges with each thrust, but the nightmarish visual is, somehow, incredibly sexy. He makes you feel full, yet you can’t seem to get enough. 

“Fuck, how are you still going?” you whimper. He chuckles like he’s flattered, lowering your legs so he can lay flat on top, chest to chest. You’re both sweaty and reek of sex, but it feels right. 

“Because you’re my soulmate. I’m going to ravish you.” 

Hours pass. He’s more beast than man at this point, almost unrecognizable. This wasn’t making love. He was determined to fuck your brains out. 

Every position imaginable, no part of your body went unexplored. If you were a country, he was a sergeant invading every part of you. You’re bruised and full of bloody scratches, but so was he. 

Whenever you were nearing the possibility of passing out, he found a way to give you a break. Whether by humping your thighs again or using your hands, he didn’t care. You’re soaked in his cum, a sticky, filthy mess that he deemed beautiful. He took pride in his work like you were his canvas for a Jackson Pollock painting. 

His boundless energy inspired him to get creative, making use of the cage’s chains. He had you dangle from the ceiling as he fucked you from the front. From the back. In your ass. 

If he thought you were tight before, your ass was a whole other story. You’d never taken something so big. It took a while for you to relax and though lube was ideal, the copious amounts of cum he filled you with earlier worked fine. More than fine. Something about him shoving his two fingers in you to draw out his cum to finger your asshole felt lecherous. You swore you were going to tear in half, but when his tip brushed sweet spots you didn’t know existed, you came harder than the previous times.  

Now you are on all fours, his hand in your hair, locking you in the humiliating position. He penetrates deep inside, loving the way your ass jiggles every time your bodies meet. You’ve been reduced to a moaning mess, unable to think about anything but his cock. 

You’re saying “Yes, yes, yes!” but the words are slurred, reduced to pure nonsense, thanks to his brutal movements. His thrusts are merciless, repeatedly hitting you in that sweet spot with no signs of slowing down unless he changes positions. 

“Fuck, this is it,” he grunts. He carefully pulls out, lies on his side, and brings you close so you’re on your side too. Lifting your leg, he slides into you again and resumes penetration. This time when he comes, you can see your belly expand from how much he fills you up. His monstrous cock swells and you whine from the discomfort, feeling like you’re about to pop. 

“It hurts,” you cry. Jungkook cuddles you as his knot takes form, ensuring no cum spills out. 

“I know, love. It’ll be okay.” He litters your neck with kisses to distract you from the pain until you’re used to his new size. You’ve never felt so full and can’t believe you’re stuck like this for who knows how long. It’s a phony moment of reprieve, but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Once the pain subsides, you lay there as he hugs you, feeling his chest on your back. He holds your hand, intertwining his fingers in yours. You take this chance to look at his tattoos, noticing one stand out in particular. 

“What’s this?” you ask.

You’re pointing to a tattoo of a lake with mountains that have a full moon situated between them on his forearm.

“Oh, that? It’s where I first fell for Namjoon when he sparred with me.” His playful lilt makes you pout.

“Hey…” 

Jungkook kisses your shoulder and grins. “That’s where I first fell for you, silly. And where I fell for you again the night of the wedding. I contemplated getting rid of it, but… I couldn’t bring myself to do it.”

“Aw…” A question pops into your mind that you’ve been dying to ask. “Can I ask you something?”

“Anything.”

“Why did you have vervain on you that day? Why carry the burden of knowing?”

He hums like he was expecting that question. “Because I know you too well and maybe… I wanted to keep that pain because it was my last link to you. I couldn’t give that up.” He turns your face so you’ll look up at him. “I love you, [Y/N].”

Saying those three words back again didn’t feel like enough. He was your one and you wanted to spend eternity with him.

“Mark me. Make me yours for good.”

His doe eyes form an OJO face, which earns a laugh from you. Despite all that’s happened, this manages to surprise him. 

“You’re sure?”

“I’m sure.”

He nuzzles his head into the crook of your neck, and you allow him to mark you as his. 

The next morning you and Jungkook are cleaned up, cuddling by the fireplace in the living room area. 

“Why is there a saxophone over there?” you ask, pointing to the random instrument near the door.

“You know what… I’m not sure.” Jungkook gets up, walks over to it, and picks it up. The face he makes while examining it is endearing, but you’re curious when he reaches his hand in the bell of the instrument. “I feel something.”

He pulls out something small, but you recognize the diamond instantly. “Is that a wedding ring?”

His face morphs into panic. “It’s not for you,” he blurts. You giggle and approach him, swiping the ring. 

“I know that, silly. You wouldn’t propose to me here.”

He visibly relaxes, rubbing the back of his nape, cheeks flushed. “It’s Namjoon’s.”

“Oh! Is this what he asked you to help him find? Is he going to propose to Jin? How sweet!”

A strange hissing noise distracts you two, and you turn your attention to the window. The snow from the avalanche is melting rapidly and soon, the door opens, revealing the couple you were just talking about.

“We’re here!” Jin shouts with his arms out in a ta-da position. 

“Again… you’re a little late,” you tease. Namjoon strides in, taking a look at the damage you two inflicted in the small space. 

“Geez… what did you two do?”

“What didn’t we do?” Jungkook says, giving you a wink. You can only laugh as you playfully hit his shoulder. 

The clothes the cabin had were a size too big on you, so they drooped on your small frame. Namjoon and Jin are quick to notice the bite mark on your exposed shoulder and how it solidified into something akin to a tattoo.

“Oh… Oh,” Jin says, realization hitting him as his ears turn red. “Congratulations!”

“Well, we should congratulate you too,” Jungkook says, giving Namjoon a pointed look. The man is confused at first, but then nods once he feels you slip the metal item into his palm. He’s ecstatic and immediately grabs the saxophone. You and Jungkook grin while his rather awkward proposal plays out, with Jin mostly unaffected and choosing to criticize his partner’s clothing choices instead.

“Hey! I practiced hard for you and you only talk about my clothes?!” Namjoon says, but the smile he wears lets you know he’s not hurt. Jin laughs and hugs him.

“I’m touched!”

Namjoon finally gets down on one knee and pops the question. “Will you marry me then?”

Now Jin’s entire face is flushed. “Oh my god… of course, my gentle giant.”

Jungkook and you give each other a knowing look, wondering when your turn will come next. He holds your hand and you lay your head on his shoulder. 

“That’ll be us someday,” he says.

“I know. But I’m not in a rush. I’m already yours.”

General A/N: Hello!!! Thank you for reading until the end. I appreciate reblogs and asks if you wanna share your thoughts. 💘

Moonstruck Readers A/N: So for those who are curious, I was going to include NamJin’s wedding where Taehyung shows up and he sees OC and JK together. And that could lead to a whole other spiral of feelings. ;) But I’m not promising to write it. This is their happy ending and OC and JK do get married eventually. 

Or if you’re like my friend who keeps saying TaeKook should both be with OC, well, that’s in another universe I guess. LOL!

[leilanihours]

paige x reader inspired by taylor swifts you are in love 😋😋😋

# YOU ARE IN LOVE

pairing: paige bueckers x photographer!reader

word count: 2177

warnings: none !

summary: the picture-perfect story of your love.

⭑ from lani: i kinda love this 🤭 i hope ygs do too 🤍

masterlist !

THE FIRST ENCOUNTER you had with paige was something out of a romantic comedy. like all the best love stories, it all started with paige practically running you over.

———

you watched intently as marquette player, liza karlen, was quickly bringing the ball up the court. uconn scrambled to get on defense but it looked like the golden eagle was about to get a wide-open layup for the lead. 

it all happened so quickly - one second you were snapping pictures of the scene in front of you, the next you were tumbling to the ground.

for about half a second, you were laying on the wooden floor behind the baseline. but almost as soon as you registered the fall, you were being pulled to your feet.

“oh my god, i’m so sorry,” a voice apologizes, “are you good? are you hurt?”

you straighten yourself up before lifting your head to glance at the person talking to you, and of course, it was none other than paige bueckers. as you gazed into her light blue eyes, you saw hints of concern and guilt in them.

“hello? are you okay?” she repeats, waving a hand in front of your wonderstruck face.

realizing you were staring, you stutter, “yes- sorry, i’m good. are you good?”

you look around, realizing that one of the teams had called a timeout after presumably a massive defensive block on paige's part.

“i just body slammed you and you’re asking me if i’m good?” paige laughs.

“hey we can’t have you getting injured, you got a chip to win for us,” you joke, laughing with her.

“right,” she smirks, “well, i’m glad you’re okay. we need our prettiest photographer getting the best flicks.”

you don’t miss the way she winks at you before jogging over to her teammates in their huddle. you let out an airy giggle as you watch the blonde get lectured by her coach, her hand nervously rubbing the back of her neck.

it was the shortest of interactions, but it had you buzzing with adrenaline, excitement. you replay the exchange, your mind focusing on the way she said “we,” as in her and her teammates.

but was that really what she meant? you had never talked to any of the women on the team, there was never the right time or place. 

as you begin to overthink and let your mind wander, you are alerted back to the present when the buzzer signals the end of the timeout. you could worry about paige and her flirty comment later, but right now you had a job to do - get “the best flicks.”

“ no proof, not much, but you saw enough “

———

so that was the first time you had ever talked to paige. it was nothing short of awkward and confusing, but it repeatedly played in your mind like a broken record.

the next time you conversed with the blonde was more…more. you didn’t exactly know what to call it, but let’s just say it left you with a bit of a crush on the basketball player.

———

you were about to start packing up your camera gear as you wore a huge smile on your face. uconn was going to the final four. they had just survived southern california - it was an insanely entertaining game.

with juju watkins and paige bueckers matching each other’s energy and skill, the arena was buzzing with anticipation the whole night.

you were a uconn senior and you couldn’t have more love for your school. it was where you were getting your bachelor’s in digital communication and media, where you truly fell in love with photography, specifically sports photography.

just as you were about to put your camera in your bag, a voice caught your attention.

“hey!” you look up to see paige bueckers, once again, making her way over to you. 

“uh, hi?” you greet with furrowed eyebrows, not entirely sure why the girl was trying to talk to you. 

“you were the one i bumped into, right? in that game against marquette?” paige asks. 

huh, you think, she actually remembers.

“yeah that was me,” you answer.

“thought so,” she smiles before reaching a hand out to dap you up, “i don’t think i got your name, though.”

“it’s y/n,” you grin, swiping your hand against hers.

“so, y/n, did you get any good flicks tonight? specifically of me?” paige smirks as she points to your camera.

“i mean, i got some sick ones of nika, not sure about you, though,” you tease with a shrug.

“you got jokes tonight, cute,” the blonde rolls her eyes playfully.

“c’mere, i’ll show you,” you laugh in surrender.

as you turn your camera back on and begin clicking through some of the pictures from the game, paige sneaks one of her large hands onto your waist as she stands tall beside you.

you feel her arm draped over your lower back with her hand loosely grasping your sweater as her eyes are focused on the small screen of your camera.

you look up at her, only now realizing how close you were to each other. your shoulder brushes against hers as she feels you staring, tilting her head to look down at you.

your breath hitches when her eyes meet yours, a sly grin plastered on her face as she scans over your face. you watch as her gaze lingers on your lips, then on the chain hanging from your neck.

it was like there was some sort of magnetic pull between you two, something that was undeniable, unbreakable. 

maybe it was the way you would occasionally lock eyes with paige through your camera, the growing connection flowing from the court, through your lens, and into your soul.

maybe it was the way every single picture you took of paige somehow managed to be your best, how you found her to be your own good luck charm in such a short span of time.

or maybe it was the way paige subconsciously looked for you before every game, searching for that familiar face that she had grown to find comfort in during the chaotic haze of a game.

whatever it was, it remained a common thought in each of your minds.

each wordless interaction, each unspoken acknowledgement, each silent appreciation - it was like you two needed each other in ways you couldn’t say with words. 

“ no proof, one touch, but you felt enough “

———

when you were with paige, it felt weird. not in a bad way, but in an interesting way. time never seemed to function properly when you were in the presence of the blonde. 

you could be chatting with her before a game, wishing her luck, and it would feel like you knew her your entire life.

she could be sitting on your bed as you edit your pictures, rambling about the randomest aspects of her day, and it would feel like she had done this every time she felt lonely or lost.

or in a more literal sense, she could treat you to a late-night frozen yogurt run for all of twenty minutes, but it felt like decades the way you two talked about everything under the sun.

you could go on a two-hour long sunrise walk with her before she had to go to practice, but it would only feel like five seconds considering she had to leave you.

in each of these instances, you and paige had managed to build a bond of insurmountable gravity. you deemed each other to be best friends, but it was a disgrace to the fate of the universe that you were nothing more.

paige felt it in her chest that the status of your relationship wasn’t what it was made to be. your own friends did, as well, but paige would be the one to make you fully realize it.

———

as you hopped into paige’s car, you sat comfortably in the passenger’s seat, but there was an unfamiliar vibe in the atmosphere. you turned your head to the blonde behind the steering wheel, finding her staring blankly out the window.

“you okay there, p?” you laugh nervously.

“uh, yeah, i’m okay,” she says quietly.

as nice as paige was, she was never the type to stay quiet around people she cared about. not unless something was bothering her.

“you know you can talk to me, paige. it’s me.”

turning to face you, her face softens when she observes the genuine concern on your face. she tilts her head slightly, dragging her eyes over your delicate features as if she wanted to memorize the harmony of them by heart.

“paige?”

“yeah, um…” she starts, “i actually do wanna talk to you.”

“i’m listening,” you reassure, placing a hand over hers resting on her leg.

“you’re my best friend, y/n. and i’d like to think i’m yours…”

“mhm..” you nod along, unsure where this was going.

“but i don’t wanna be. your best friend, i mean…”

you’re taken aback by this, “what? you...don’t wanna be friends anymore?”

“no, i don’t, but-“

“that’s why you called me here? to end our friendship?” you accuse, slowly becoming angry with confusion.

paige laughs at how quick you were to defend your bond, brushing a loose hair out of your face. you look at her with furrowed eyebrows, still completely lost as to what her point was and why she was laughing. 

“if you just let me finish what i’m tryna say…” she says, waiting for your confirmation to continue. you nod, the blonde mirroring your nod before speaking, “i don’t wanna be your best friend…’cus i wanna be your girlfriend. if you’ll let me?”

your eyes widen slightly in shock, not expecting those words to come out of her mouth. your heart rate picks up as you register what she’s actually saying. you can’t help but stare at paige with your lips parted as you think of how to respond.

“y/n? can you say something? please?” she asks softly, begging almost, as she tries to decipher your reaction.

after a beat of silence (a common theme in your relationship), you finally answer, “i’d really like that, paige.”

she lets out a breath of relief she didn’t even know she was holding in. her shoulders relax as the tensity in them melts away at your words.

“yeah?” she smiles.

“yeah,” you nod, “but only if i get to be your girlfriend.”

“i think imma take that deal,” she laughs before swiftly placing her lips on yours.

you found yourself once again appreciating the tranquil environment, the calm embrace. it reflected how your blossoming relationship with paige didn’t need to be put into words. 

mostly because you understood each other on such an emotional and spiritual level, but also because you couldn’t do it justice if you tried.

so you told your story with pictures, your own photographs. images that would last a lifetime in the eyes of your love.

“ one step, not much, but it said enough “

———

all of which brings you to now. it’s been exactly one year since paige had officially asked to be your girlfriend. she surprised you with a date at a drive-in movie, one that was playing some romantic silent film from the early 1900s.

as you sat in the bed of your older brother’s pickup truck (the one that paige had to secretly kidnap for the night), you admired the serenity of the scene surrounding you. 

fellow viewers talking in hushed voices, other lovers tangled up in comforting embraces, faint humming from the film rolling as it projected onto the large white sheet, the feeling of your girlfriend’s heart beating against you as you laid on her chest.

there was nothing that could make this moment better.

“i love you, y/n,” you hear paige whisper into your hair.

okay, maybe there was something that could make it even better.

you sit up from your spot nestled into the blonde, facing her and looking into those blue eyes you had always treasured. there was nothing but pure adoration and sincerity behind them. 

your heart swells like music at the end of the third act in a romantic comedy. you’re grinning widely at the girl sitting in front of you as your hands come up to brace either side of her face. 

your lips meet hers in a deep kiss, one that says everything that needs to be said and more. but, of course, it doesn’t hurt to say it out loud officially.

“i love you too, paige,” you smile against her lips, “so much.”

it felt so perfect, everything about it was perfect.

the way her lips locked with yours as if they were destined to fit there. the way it wasn’t some big, loud gesture. the way it was the middle of the night when the world was at its quietest, the way the lights of the outdoor theater and along the sidewalks were dimmed to glow just right. 

the way it was so unapologetically you and paige.

“ you are in love, true love “

— leilani signing off ! 📁

[probablyintensemuses]

Tiny Little Good Things-

A. Aretas

PAIRING: ARMANDO X READER

synopsis: You and Armando get sent on a mission to stop a vicious drugs and arms dealer. Chaos ensues and you two find out why the lines between love and hate are constantly blurring for you both.

theme(s): eventual smut (+18), gore and blood, cursing, graphic imagery, angst, enemies to lovers, Armando is a dick and really hot when he speaks Spanish.

warnings: there is smut in this fic as well as many bloody scenes, if you can’t handle either, I wouldn’t read on!

authors note: hi, yes I know this fic is long as shit, but I felt it was necessary for what unfolds. There is more than 12k words here, so sorry to all my short attention span people. ❤️love you, k bye!

word count: 12.5k

“Ramos Malik, age thirty-seven and Miami’s biggest up and coming arms and drug dealer.’ Kelly says, fingers gracing her iPad as she swivels through pictures, displaying them on the plasma screen ahead.

“He’s a big fucking problem. 3D printing' slugs that are hitting the streets faster than crack in the seventies.’ Mike Lowery, head of AMMO, interjects. “Shells the size of a thumbs, sharper than lions teeth, are being pulled out of rival gang members, bystanders, and law enforcement all around the city.”

You turn in your chair, pushing away from your computer screen. “So, how do we stop him?”

Dorn rounds the steel table, a slab of guns, gear, and tech, gently taking the iPad from Kelly’s hand, and you don’t miss the way she blushes. It’s cute, those two. Kelly and you had grown close ever since you joined AMMO as their new technical analyst months ago. Dorn gave up the position, wanting to be present in the field—mostly to have Kelly’s six—he and his therapist had been making great progress and he felt it was time to be more than the brawny guy in the chair.

So that lead to you taking over and eventually many girls nights full of red wine, cheese, and pillow talking. A slip of a wine-jaded tongue later and you were the first on the team to know of their love affair. Sometimes you desired to have that of your own, but life and fate, as Marcus would say, hadn’t given that to you yet.

“Good question, followed by an even better answer.’ Dorn sails and the screen changes and a new scene plays. “This is Moxy, a new club on the strip. It’s where Ramos Malik and his crew hang out. Rumor has it he’ll be there tonight, and we're going to bind him with a sting.”

Intrigued you stand. “You need me to make inconspicuous body cams, don’t you?’ You gasp and breath deeply, a smile spreading on your face. “God I love it when you guys want me to make inconspicuous body cams.”

Dorn coughs and Kelly looks off to the side, biting at her nails. Mike walks over slowly, slapping a hand onto both your shoulders.

“Now, we know how much our sweet little, non-violent, girl here loves to just stay in her lane and chill here while we get into all the bloody action.’ Mike massages your shoulders, displaying you off to the group like a fresh piece of wagyu. You scan the crew's faces—mischief, panic, fear—but the one that snipes you the most is the one of Armando Aretas. He sits perched on a table on the far side of the room, combat boot clad feet planted on a chair as his brown eyes pierce into you, sending tiny, invisible sparks flocking on your skin. You suck in a sharp breath and look away. He always stared, so why did it bother you now?

When your ears finally stop buzzing, you dial back into Mike's speech. “But this time, it’ll be different. You’ll be out in the field.”

As if you were just tased, you jut away from his grip. “What?”

“Ramos can sniff cops a mile away. It’s what makes him so good at what he does.’ Marcus cuts in. “He knows our faces, too. The only face he doesn’t know, is yours.”

You take another step back, heart racing, completely stupefied. “So you want me to go and trick that bastard…by myself?!”

“No! Never!” Mike says. “Armando will be with you.”

A clatter echos through the room, all eyes snapping to where Armando was sitting, the little black stool wobbling on the floor. “The fuck I will!” He growls.

Your eyes narrow and you jut your chin up. What the hell was he so mad for?

“Okay, son, calm down. It’s a simple sting operation. If you’re careful, it’s an in-and- out kind of thing.”

Armando circles close, and out of habit you cower behind the wall of Mike and Dorn. You may have a high IQ but you’re no match physically for anyone on this team, especially not Armando. You’ve seen what he can do countless times. He was the silent beast, he always just stared and hardly spoke. No matter how much you tried to warm up to him, make him feel accepted, you two just never clicked.

You thought it might just be his past, how he was manipulated by his father and lied to by his mother, that made him so closed off, but with the way fury rumbles off of him so strong right now, pushing you deeper into Dorn and Mike, it makes you think there’s more unspoken. And if so, what?

Caged between Mike and Dorn Armando finds your eyes again, scolding your cheeks hot with his glare. It was as if he needed you to not only hear his words but feel them too. “I’m not going on any mission with the princesa. All she does is type and sit in that fucking chair all day. It’ll be suicide.”

Mike takes his son's shoulder, massaging them similar to how he’d done your own. “She’s the only choice right now, okay? She’s just the arm candy to fill out the picture we’re setting for Malik, alright?”

For some reason his words— “just the arm candy?”and “the only choice right now,” —sting. You may not be skilled in the field or in combat, but you were vital to this team and you spent months trying to prove your strengths otherwise. When you first joined the team, everyone insisted on making you their baby bird, some wounded thing they needed to protect in a gilded cage. You were the new young and stary-eyed cop, and they are all jaded-old bags who need someone to shelter. It happened authentically and you still couldn’t shake the box they put you in. You aren’t helpless, you are capable and strong and maybe this is what you need, an opportunity outside to finally prove yourself.

“If he doesn’t want to do it, I’m sure there is someone else in the field we can find.’ A surge of confidence flushes through you as you push past the Mike-Dorn barricade, chin help up high with defiance as you brush past Armando. “Whatever the case, I’ll do it. I can do it. I’m capable Mike, so let’s see my cover.”

A smirk peels on Kelly’s face as she passes you your file. “Okay, Ms. Bad-ass. I’m loving this energy.”

Armando scoffs, planting himself next to you, his broad shoulders brush up against your frail ones. The slight gesture sends a hear through you. Quickly you scoot away, no need to sweat through a perfectly good cardigan over mean-ass Armando Aretas.

You flip through your file. You’ll be playing Jenna Combs. A twenty-six year old dancer and model who is the new girlfriend of—

“You hijos de puta’s got me playing myself?” Armando argues. “What kind of shit disguise is that?”

Dorn shrugs. “It’s not. That’s the point. The Aretas name is still feared and no one knows you’re in with the cops. It’s a pretty believable story, you need new armory and he can supply it.”

“Last anyone in this circles heard, you was killing cops and slinging a new dope empire. Just get em’ to confess to making this bullets and where he does it, so we can get em’ off the streets for good.” Marcus chimes in with a smile.

Armando’s grumbles a few curses under his breath before his attention turns and latches onto you. Suddenly you feel hot again, like a solar flares are swallowing you whole. Armando’s eyes rack over your form, slow and tentative.

His gaze latches onto your lips before he says, “And she’s supposed to be my date? Suicide mission.”

“For who? You or me? Because the way I see it, with your attitude you’ll be made in minutes.”

The gap between you and Armando closes in an instant. Your faces mere inches from each other. His cool breath trickles down the crest of your neck and frosts the tips of your ears when he whispers, “Careful when you speak to me, Princesa. You’ll be alone out there with me, and anything could happen to you.”

Was he…threatening you?

Your balls must have really dropped in the matter of minutes, because instead of keeping quiet and apologizing, like you normally would if you managed to anger Armando, you bite back.

“Stop calling me that.” You grit your teeth.

“¿Por qué, eh?’ Armando whispers, pulling back from you and taking a seat on a nearby stool. His eyes are drunk with a flavor you can’t distinguish. “Only princesas get to sit up in their castle all day, shielded, while everyone else goes out and does all the heavy lifting.”

“I never asked to be shielded!’ You stamp your foot, moving in on him with a swiftness. Armando invites your challenge with grace, folding his muscular arms slowly over his wide chest, watching you stalk nearer.

You don’t know how, but you find yourself in between him, his legs two thick gates around you. Where it should bother you, in the moment it doesn’t because It’s your turn to invade his space. In this moment, the great Armando Aretas doesn’t scare you.

You poke at his chest with each syllable. “Rather you like it or not, Aretas, this princesa is going on this sting with or without you, and I don’t give a shit what you think, not anymore. Cool?”

A small smirk pulls on his face as he peels your finger off his chest, the digit so small in his his hand, his movements making you keenly aware of your closeness.

“Cool.” He stands, boxing you in with his large build before brushing past you and walking out of the compound.

You watch as the last bits of daylight leave with him as the door slams closed. This confidence was like adrenal coursing through you and suddenly you felt tired and zapped, being strong is exhausting. You take a seat, pulling at a loose curl atop your head, thoughts burrowing into your mind like a splinter.

To this day, you couldn’t understand the hatred he had for you. In the begging, when Mike had negotiated a deal with the D.A’s office and the department to allow Armando to work for AMMO, not wanting his raw talents to go to waste, no one trusted him. But still, you gave him a chance, because you knew how it felt to be the underdog and you didn’t want the same for him. Still, in his own fashion, he warmed up to the others…but never to you. But maybe he was right, everyone else here has put so much of themselves of the line, risked it all for the greater good, and what have you done? Nothing. You haven’t saved anyone or changed a life. You’ve sat and watched from the comforts of the compound. Their eyes and ears, that’s all.

You push to standing and gather your file. You may not be the strongest, or fastest on the team, but you had strengths and you’d make use of them tonight for once, no matter what.

Suddenly snickers and chuckle fill the room, bouncing off the walls of your mind and bringing you back to the room glazed with the smell of oil and pinesol.

Marcus breaks through the laughter. “Next time you two want to engage in some foreplay, ask for the room first.”

Your skin nearly peels off at his words. You could burn alive right now.

You and Armando?

“Never would that ever happen.” You shiver at the thought of being with any man, let alone him.

Armando is a mean man. A mean man you suddenly have to trust you life with.

But if that’s the case. Why does your heart not fall to your feet at the thought?

###

“You’ve memorized your role, right?” Kelly asks, tightening the final fixings of your dress.

“Yes,’ you nod. “I’m Armando’s new girlfriend, Jenna. I don’t speak, I just sit quietly and listen. I shadow him, basically. Anything he does, I do.”

“Good girl.’ Kelly winks. “One last thing.’ She digs into her pockets before brandishing a small knife. “Here, just in case things go south.”

Your eyes widen and you nearly flinch. “I thought you and Mike said this was an easy in-and-out kind of deal.”

Kelly sighs. “Nothing like this is ever easy. All things have the potential to go south.’ She grabs your face in her hands. “I just want my girl safe, that’s all.”

Reluctantly, you accept the knife, shoving it into your purse. “What about Armando? Isn’t he supposed to protect me—I mean Jenna?”

“And he will,” Kelly assures. “But you can never be too sure.”

You nod. “Right, whose to say he won’t abandon me if shit oops off,” your snicker is laced with fear.

Kelly walks you out of the compound and toward the front where you’ll be meeting the rest of the team. “He won’t. Trust me.”

“He did allude to it early, Kels.”

Kelly rolls her eyes, stopping you and giving your curls one last fluff. “Aretas is all talk when it comes to you, don’t take him for a grain of salt.”

You frown. “What’s that supposed to be mean.”

Kelly smirks. “See for yourself.”

She steps out of the way and in the shinning exterior of Mikes Ferrari, you see yourself.

Do you look like a slut, yes, but nonetheless gorgeous.

Your curls are loose and defined, a cascade of shea butter and hibiscus around you. Your makeup is layered, yet light, elevating your high cheekbones, wide lips, and honey-brown eyes. And your plum colored dress pops against your warm-brown skin, somehow making even your thin body look full and figured.

You look fucking hot.

And for the first time in forever, you feel fucking hot.

Apparently you’re not the only one who thinks so as a whistle breaks loose in the yard.

“Goddamn girl!’ Mike claps. “If I wasn’t some old dog, I’d ask you on a date myself.”

“I’ll keep my comments to myself,’ Marcus smiles. “You know Theresa be listening.” He looks over his shoulders, head on a swivel.

“Dorn don’t say a word.” Kelly scolds her boyfriend, Dorn holds his hands up in defense.

“Staying silent.” He whimpers.

Your cheeks flush. “Stop, you guys.” You giggle. “This was all Kelly, besides you know I look better in a cardigan and jeans.”

“I agree.” A voice emerges from the darkness. A wide berth breaks before you as Armando strolls over.

Your throat goes dry and suddenly your head is dizzy with a feeling hard to explain, as you take him in.

He’s fresh with a new hair cut, faded low on the sides and thick, raven black up top. His beard is full and more manicured, enunciating the sharp cuts of his jaw.

He’s graced in a suit, black-on-black. The undershirt unbuttoned exposing much of his chiseled chest and the gold, cross necklace that dangles there. His suit jacket fits perfectly over the swells of his biceps and his pants expose every aching muscle in his thigh.

Like gravity, it’s hard to pull your eyes away from him. But somehow you become the void of space and manage to.

You can’t say the same for him though, because despite his insults that same burning, tingling sensation finds its way tip-toeing down your back and to the swell of your ass. One quick spin and you catch Armando’s eyes lifting from your backside to face you.

“I thought I looked better in a cardigan?” You say, breathing heavy.

Was he just? No…

Armando swings open the passenger door for you. “Get in.” He grumbles.

Not wanting to test his patience, you oblige, taking a step into the Farrier.

Armando closes the door behind you before climbing into the passenger side.

At the window, Mike approaches.

“Get in ask Ramos about the bullets, say you heard about them from word of mouth and you’re interested in them. You’ll pay top dollar. Once he confirms he can give them to you, we’ll move in. Got it?” Mike explains to Armando before turning his attention to you. “And for you, just be silent, pretty, and say nothing, okay?”

“Won’t be hard for her.” Armando grumbles as he starts the car.

You roll your eyes, ignoring his comment. “You guys will tail us, right.”

Dorn nods. “You should be fine though, you’ve got Armando.”

Armando reeves the engine, slowly idling off and away from your friends. And for some reason, when you whip off, you can’t help but wonder if he was right. This was a suicide mission, just not for him.

Fuck.

###

The drive is silent and smooth. You really could see why Mike insisted on such expensive cars, they rode well.

Your heel-clad feet tap against the bottom of the car, humming a tune in your head, making you realize just how much this ride needed some music.

Slowly, you turn to face Armando. His eyes are focused on the long road ahead, his jaw is clenched and he doesn’t seems to be paying you the slightest bit of attention.

As smooth as you can be you carefully lift your hand up and turn on the radio. Soon enough Ariana Grandes, The Boy is Mine, blasts from the radio.

You squeal and find a small groove with your fingers against your purse, humming the lyrics and bopping your head to the beat. The song is just reaching its second run through the chorus when the radio goes dead.

You turn, seeing Armando’s hand leaking from the controls. Annoyed, you give him a look before turning the radio back on, louder this time.

Armando’s jaw clenches tighter, like he might actually collapse through it with his bite force. He slams the radio off…again.

This time you don’t bite your tongue.

“Would you stop doing that!” You shout.

“No.”

“Why not? I was listening to that.”

“I don’t care. I need to focus.” Armando grumbles.

“Focus on what?”

“I don’t know, Princesa, making sure we both come out of this alive, because I damn sure can’t count on you to do that.”

His words bite, but if he wants to play a snake you have venom for him. “Why don’t you like me, huh? What have I ever done to you?” You hide.

Armando stays silent, his knuckles whitening as his grip strengthens on the steering wheel.

You snap at him. “I’m not talking to myself, Armando. Why do you hate me, huh?!”

“Cállte!” He shouts

You don't know much Spanish, but you’ve heard him say it enough to know it’s time to walk away from the conversation.

So you do, resting your head against the window seal, counting the number of streetlights you see flash and shimmer as you zoom by.

When you were younger your mother couldn’t afford fancy candles so she used a flashlight instead. You imagine the streetlights as just that, wishing that one day you’d know what you did to anger Armando so much.

Not soon enough, the car comes to a halt. The only sounds filling the cabin are those of Armando undoing his seatbelt.

Annoyed, you don’t even look at him as he speaks. All he’s done is tear you down in the past few hours, you’re done giving him the energy you need to conserve.

“When we go inside, don’t say a word. I don’t care how many questions he throws your way, you don’t say shit. Am I clear?”

Slowly, you turn towards him. Your mouth is scrunched and your eyes filled with no sympathy for the devil in front of you.

“Crystal.” You whisper, venom leaking off your tongue as you speak.

Armando’s chest rises and falls as he takes in your anger. He squeezes Mikes keys between his hands, and you you really do your best to ignore the heat that unfurls inside of you when he bites his plump lip between his teeth and runs a hand over his dark, full beard.

You adjust in your seat, because despite his constant cold front, It looks as if he has something to say. You wait in contemplating silence, the only sounds in the cabin being your breathing and Armando’s hesitant taps on the keys.

Part of you just wants to go in a get this over with and never speak to him again, but another part is desperate for him to say something meaningful to you. Something like the things you say to him before a mission.

“Don’t die.”

“Come back in one piece.”

“Be careful.”

“We should all have pizza when you come back.”

You knew how scary things could get on missions and you just wanted your team to know you were there, to take away even a slither of the darkness clouding them in that moment. And for your first time, you thought Armando might do the same—say something meaningful—but he doesn’t.

In a flash he’s out of the car, handing the keys over to valet, threatening them about what will happen if any scratches and dents are found.

You take in a deep breath and look down at the camera, disguised as a gold necklace resting above the cut of your breast.

“You guys getting all this?” You whisper, stepping out of the car.

“Do you mean Moxy, or your fight with Hotmando?” Dorn says over the earpiece.

You come to a halt. “Shit, I’m sorry guys. I’ll keep it professional, okay. From here on out, I won’t let him get to me…that’s not what’s important.”

“Good, get in and come back to us. I need my girl and our wine down Sundays.” Kelly says.

You smile, making your way over to wear Armando stands at the mouth of the nightclub, hoping he heard your words.

The sour look on his face as you walk through the door he holds open for you—sure to flip my hair as you do, giving him a nice taste of your leave in conditioner—tells you he certainly did, and perhaps he didn’t like what you had to say, but nonetheless…

He wont bother you anymore. Not tonight, at least.

Inside Moxy tore hit with a wave of a scent that nearly makes you gag—weed, sweat, and criminal activity. The club its self is large in scale, high ceilings with rope dancers stringing off the tops and flashing red and blue lights melting to make a purple haze over the club. Smoke and bubble guns are in constant effect and you’re pretty sure you can feel the bass of Wiz Khalifa’s Black and Yellow in your thoracic cavity.

From what you can see there are three floors, the first and second appear to be where the actual clubbing takes place. You watch the sweaty bodies corralled into dance floors, babbling nonsense either too drunk or too high for their own good.

But above, on the third, it is caged in and covered by glass. Yellow lights, different from the multi-colored ones below, remain at a halt and big , burly men with guns at their hips wander the halls. No doubt looking to take out any threat that comes for their boss—Ramos Malik.

“The glass. It’s bullet proof.” Armando says, eyeing the scene above, just as you do.

You would praise him for the impressive catch. But you’re Jenna now, and Jenna doesn’t speak.

“Any sign of Malik?” Mike asks.

“Not yet,’ Armando places a hand on the small of your back, making you flinch. “But we’re about to find out.”

Never moving his hands from your waist, Armando guides the two of you through the sweaty pillage of bodies and towards the elevators.

The ride up is quick, quiet. That’s not shocking. But what is shocking, as soon as the elevator comes to a screeching halt, Armando grabs your hand in his, completely engulfing your own with his size.

The burning sensation wraps up your wrist and shoots straight to your cheeks where you flush.

“What are you doing?” You gasps, trying to pull away. You did not sign up for this kind of role play.

Armando turns to look at you. “If you’re my girlfriend, we’ve got to play the part. Other than that you just look like someone who I brought out on a hit with me.” He squeezes your hand.

You suck in a deep breath at the motion, looking away.

“What’s wrong, princesa? This too much for you?” For a second, you thought he meant the fact that he was holding your hand, and in that case he wouldn’t be wrong, but soon enough the doors open and you shortly realize what he means.

The two burly men from early, dapper in black and white suits, wait outside the elevator, fingers in the triggers of their guns.

“Aretas.’ They nod, tuning your attention to you. “Whose this?”

“My girl, Jenna.” Armando says, gruffly.

One of the men nods, motioning you forward. You swallow, backing up a bit, hesitant on what to do.

Armando nudges you forward. “Esta bien bebe.”

You nod and walk towards them. They grab you up, calloused hands running up and down your body, and your pretty sure they linger to long on your untouchables on purpose.

Sweat begins to pile in your hands as a thought burst into your mind. What would happen if they found the knife Kelly gave you? She’d shoved it in a pretty good spot, but still, these guys were being thorough…and not in a good way.

You make eye contact with Armando as one of the guards continues to fill you up with what feels like excessive force.

In a blur, Armando pushes off the wall with his foot, slapping a hand on the guards shoulder.

“She’s clear, eh?”

The guard nods.

Armando grips his collar and pulls him in close. “The why the fuck are you still touching her, hm?”

The guard swallows, fear evident in his eyes.

“Just covering the bases, that’s all, sir.” He whimpers.

“Cover the bases again like that with my girl, and I’ll cut your fucking hand off and feed it to your other fat fuck of a friend.” Armando notions to the guard behind.

The guard nods and swallows, caressing his hand.

“The boss is this way,” he guides us with a motion.

Armando grips your hand once more, leading your down the long hallway.

“You okay?” He asks, holding his gaze forward.

You look up at him, even in heels he still manages to be taller than you. “Don’t pretend to care.” You scoff.

That makes him halt, conjoined with him you have no choice but to face each other. His mouth opens and closes like a fish, yet no words come out.

You roll your eyes, looking past his shoulders. Inside the bright room, you can see a shadow of Ramos. “Let’s just get this over with.” You say.

Armando’s gaze lingers on your longer than you’d like, giving you the shivers despite the fire leaking off him.

Soon enough, he pushes open the door and you follow behind him.

The room is small, club girls linger around either serving drinks or being felt up on. Ramos’s men, stand at each corner of the room searching for the next threat to their boss. Luckily they haven’t figured it is you yet.

“Armando Aretas,” Ramos claps his hands, jumping off of the white couch he’s sat on.

He stalks over, cigar between his lips, and you take him in. He is nowhere near as stalky as Armando, and his curly blonde hair is put up into a bun, exposing the undercut beneath. You can’t catch the colors of his eyes because they are covered by dark, Fendi shades.

His business definitely makes money, and lots of it. His three piece black and burgundy suit screams it all.

“To what do I owe such great pleasures?” He bows, lifting your hand up and placing a kiss on the back. “That goes for you too, sugar.”

Armando squeezes your hand a bit tighter at the pet name. You want to bite back and tell him to go easy, but you’re on stage now, and for your own safety and his, it’s best if you don’t break the act.

“I’m in the business of buying something from you. Streets are hot down in Mexico right now, and I need to establish some new territories…with a little force.” Armando says smoothly, sometimes you forget he was a hardened criminal not too long ago.

Ramos clicks his tongue between his teeth. “Ah. Come sit.” He motions you two over to one of his coaches.

“Good job. Keep em’ talking.” Mike says over the coms.

Armando takes a seat across from Ramos and you do the same.

A chuckle leaves Ramos’s lips. “I don’t think your pet likes you very much,” he motions to the space between you two.

Armando smacks his lips. “Nonsense. Ven aquí, bebé.”

You swallow and scoot towards him. When you’re close enough, in one swift moment, Armando’s slips you in his lap, running a rough hand up and down the exposed parts of your thigh, sending shivers down your spine and goosebumps all over your body.

What the hell was happening.

Ramos chuckles, pouring himself and Armando a drink. He pushes it across the glass table, just out of reach.

Armando gives your ass a light slap, you turn and flare your nose, giving him your best “don't push it,” it glare.

He ignores it.

“Tráeme eso, mamá.” He says, motioning towards the glass.

You pick up the tumbler, suddenly realizing what he’s playing at. Ramos is watching because he isn't convinced. So you suck up your pride and do some convincing.

You grip Armando by his chin, rubbing the pad of your thumb in circles over his gruff beard before putting the glass against his lips, assisting him as he drinks.

Never once do his eyes leave you as he swallows the amber liquid, and the shivers that were once in your spine travel lower, much lower. You have to blink away the awful, dirty thoughts of you being in place of the glass out of your mind as you swipe away the spillage off his beard and plump, pink lips.

When you turn, Ramos’ shoulders drop and his smile is so wide it’s nearly reckless.

“So you’re in the business of buying my most popular product from me?”

“That’s right.” Armando says, a hand still caressing you slow and smooth.

“I am curious, though,’ Ramos takes a swig of his drink. “How did you hear about it?”

Armando shifts, the movement forcing you closer to his center. Your eyes go wide as saucers, your new position doing nothing for the growing pain massing within your heat.

“I’m an Aretas. Nothing in the streets goes past my ears…nothing.” Armando's confidence radiates off of him.

“Very well,” Ramos chuckles. “Let’s establish two parameters of this deal, then. One, you pay me before I give you any product. Two, you get caught with my product, you don’t tell a soul who you the fuck got it from. Sounds good?” He smiles.

Armando nods. “Just one thing,’ his hands enclose over your hips, sliding you off to the side, as he leans forward. “How do you make them? The bullets.”

Ramos frowns. “Why? You trying to steal my swag or something, Aretas?”

Armando chuckles. “Nah, just curious.”

“Feed his ego, he’s going to talk.” Kelly says.

“I mean, they're sharp, large, fast, quiet. It’s impressive. I just want to know how you do it before I invest any of my money into it.” Armando leans back, arms spread in a wide arch on the back of the couch.

“In our world now, with a little money, the right connections, and a fuck ton of fortitude, anything you can think of is a possibility.’ Ramos says, lighting another cigar. “It’s rare and hard to get everything right. But if you really want to know how I do it,’ he leans in, voice dropping to a whisper.

Armando does the same, you make the conscious effort not to. Instead you play with your necklace, making sure the camera catches his face and his face only when he confesses.

“It’s a three—,”

A sudden buzz swallows the conversation whole, swirling it down the dirty sink it had come up from. The buzz echoes once more before you realize where it comes from…your purse

Fuck.

Ramos straightens, likes a dog on guard, eyeing you fiercely. Your chest rises and falls with a weight heavier than gravity as your ringtone continues to blare out for everyone to hear.

Ramos licks his lips, like he’s hungry for what comes next. “Well don’t be shy, Ms. Jenna, answer the phone.”

You swallow and tuck a curl behind your ear. “I don’t think that’s appropriate right now. Let’s just finish up the deal—“

In a blur of fury, Ramos stands brandishing a gun, pointing it right at your chest.

“Make you perra answer the fucking phone, or I put holes in you both.”

“Answer the phone,” Mike calls to you. “Do what he asks.”

Armando gives you a cautious look as you slip your phone out of your purse. Your fingers are shaking, so answering takes a few tries but when you finally do get it, you see that it’s your sister calling.

“Make sure it’s on speaker too.” Ramos demands, clocking his gun.

You inhale deeply, press the speaker button, then answer, “Hey, sister, this isn’t really a good time.”

“Hey, I know you’re probably working late and all, but this is kind of important. My routers are not really working and I have a date with that guy, David, I told you about and I really need my tv to work.” She explains.

You bite your lip and lick the sweat that forms around them. “Have you tried turning your tv on and off again? You know I’m not really a whiz at that tech stuff.”

A pause, then your sister erupts in laughter. “Girl, are you high?’ She laughs. “You’ve been messing with wires and the internet since we were kids. That’s the whole reason twelve wanted you anyways”

Your hear sinks the moment she says those words, you hang up because the last thing you want is for your sister to hear you die.

“Well fuck me, Jenna, I’ll be damned.” Ramos growls, pushing his gun into your skull.

You pierce your eyes shut, brace for the burning impact of the bullet and pray for a quick death.

But it never happens, instead in a swift motion Armando pushes you off to the side causing you to collapse onto the ground. He makes a quick sweep of his leg, sending Ramos crashing onto his ass and the bullet that was meant for you soaring up and hitting the rafters, lodging into some wood.

Your breath is heavy as you watch all out war unfold before you. Armando takes on five men at once. The first man takes two tumblers over the head and one shard of glass to the neck, scarlett liquid oozing from the wound before he drops like dead weight beside you.

You let out a scream, backing away from the scene that moves like a riptide before you.

“Get out of there, now!” Kelly screams in your ear.

“I—I can’t just leave him!” You shout back.

“You have no training! We’re coming in, go, now!” Mike yells.

You gather yourself, undoing your heels, still watching Armando skillfully take out guys and keep clear of the gunshots that ring in the tiny room. You watch as he dropkicks one man, then shoots him in the face before stalking over to another man, dishing out a few punches, before finally gutting him with a knife.

He’s still on the move when you finally slip out of your heels. More of Ramos’s men are filing in and the fight expands,moving from the small room you were just in into the hallway where any innocent person could be hurt.

Unlike most times you weren’t in your gilded chair. You were in the field and you would help as many people as you could. So, you don’t think, you let the adrenaline cloud you as you bound down the hallway in hopes to get back downstairs and direct clubbers from the chaos.

Setting the golden elevator in your sites, you push faster. People below were already screaming, running wild. Who knows what could happen? How many people could be trampled and hurt. This only fuels you, quickening your stride. You nearly make it but a gunshot slows you, and the body of a bleeding girl drops before you, putting you into a full halt.

“Oh my god,” your voice is breathy and shaky.

“Why are you still in there!” Dorns’ voice becomes a far void as you rip at the bottom of your dress and use the fabric to compress her wound.

Two gunshots to the chests. The girl, who can’t be any older than yourself, gurgles blood which sprays onto her porcelain skin and leaks into her brown hair, sticking strands to the marble floor.

The girl coughs, sending blood splattering onto the side of your face, and claws at your arms, streaks of crimson standing out against your brown skin.

She murmurs, but it’s hard to hear.

You press deeper into her wounds. “Shh, it’ll be alright,’ You tell her “guys, I need a medic on the third floor when you get here. She’s…she’s in really bad shape.” You whimper.

The girl whines again, her eyes open and closing in two second intervals.

she raises her arm pointing a shaking finger in the direction behind you.

You wipe your eyes, blood no doubt trailing on your face now.

“What?” You croak. “What is it?” You turn around and see Ramos Malik limping over to you, a large knife in his hand.

You stand, putting distance between him, yourself and the girl.

“You’re a real bitch, you know that?’ An injured Ramos says, limping toward you with his knife pointed. “Trying to get me caught up in some trap, but you weren’t even smart enough to shut off your phone!” He screams, lunging at you with the knife.

You tumble backwards, your back and head hitting the marble floor with the weight of you both. You cry out as pain sears through you, especially your hand.

It takes you a moment of readjusting to the bright lights and sounds to realize why. You caught the fucking knife in your hand.

You scream, as Ramos pulls it from your palm in a slice. Your hand open and bleeding, you cry out and roll away from another vicious attack by Ramos.

He growls and lunges at you again, grabbing a tuft full of your curls. You beat at his legs with your good hand, squirming in his grip. He pulls at your hair, making you scream, lowering his knife to your neck, pressing inward.

You let out an animalistic scream, pressing your thumb into the oozing wound on his leg. He screeches, falling to his knees.

Wasting no time, you crawl away.

You think you’ve gotten far enough.

You rise up on your knees and push the elevator button, but the cold hand on your ankle snatches you back.

You claw at the marble floors, leaving a trail of blood, as Ramos drags you like a rag doll. He stops, flipping you over and planting his weight on top of you.

You flail, kicking the ground and scratching at his face, desperate for him to let go. But he doesn’t. Instead, he cages you with his legs and wraps both hands around your neck, applying so much pressure that your vision blurs.

Under his grip, your breaths become distant and faint. Your muscles relax, and your eyes bulge. Turning your head to the side, you can barely make out the flashing blue and red lights from outside.

The team is here. But you're not sure they'll find you in time because Ramos is relentless, and the air in your lungs is vanishing. Your skull feels like it’s being crushed, the pressure intense.

You feel yourself slipping away, losing focus on your surroundings. Ramos moves your head to face him, and he’s a mass of incoherent clouds above you, the only clear thing are his dark, empty eyes.

“Look at me, baby. I like my victims to look at me before they die,” he growls, spit slipping from his mouth. “I hope Aretas finds you like—”

Ramos drops, and oxygen rushes back into your lungs like a clap of thunder.

You shudder on the ground, scraping at your neck and slapping your chest.

Warm hands engulf your cheeks, and it takes a minute for the blur to leave your vision. When it does, you see Armando before you, a smoking gun at his side.

“¿Estás bien, mamá?”

His voice barely registers before oxygen slips from your lungs again, and you slump over, hitting the ground.

Armando scoops you up, and even though it should be a relief, you can’t help but be saddened by the way your team jumps over the girl you couldn’t save.

Darkness swallows you whole as your team swarms you and Armando.

###

“The stitches will dissolve on their own in time as your wound heals itself.’ Kelly says, tightening the last of the bandages on the hand Ramos had sliced.

“Thanks, Kelly.’ You smiled softly, rubbing at the soreness that still lingered all over your body, especially your neck.

Ramos and his men had been arrested, not on the charges the team had planned, but still, getting him locked away for attempted murder of a police officer and soliciting drugs would have to be good enough for now.

Kelly rubs your shoulders, a soft sigh leaving her lips. “I’m really sorry this happened to you,’ she says, eyeing your injuries, the bandages on your knees and hands, the purple-ish bruise on your neck, and the small scratches and scrapes all over your body. You definitely weren’t as hot as you were that night.

“It’s okay.” You smile. “I’m still here, so.” You shrug.

“You were brave that night, saving that girl. We’re all so proud of you.” Kelly says.

You shake your head. “But I didn't save her, Kels. She died. Right there, she bled out.’ Tears start to rim your eyes as the memories of the girl and her blood in your hands flare in your mind. “Fuck,” you cover your eyes with your palms. “I could hardly save myself that night…if it wasn’t for Armando, I’d be dead.”

You sniffle, taking a seat on a nearby stool. “I’m not cut of for the field, and I don’t think I should ever do it again.”

Kelly swarms you. “No. Don’t say that.’ She shakes her head. “We’ve all been there, helpless, but that’s why we’re a team. We cover each other's six when shit gets rough. So don’t feel bad, we won’t let you.”

You nod slowly, trying to let her words penetrate your soul so that you could really believe them. But right now, you couldn’t. You put everyone at risk because you made a rookie mistake by leaving your phone on.

You were to blame for all the carnage, all the bloodshed and chaos.

Armando was right, it was a suicide mission. And it was all your fault.

Kelly’s phone ringing thrusts you out of your thoughts.

She reads the screen number and looks at you. 'I got to go,’ she motions. “But if you need me, call me, seriously.”

You nod and wave her goodbye. You turn and fully expect to hear the compound's heavy, steel doors slam shut and lock, but they never do.

On high alert you turn and meet eyes with Armando. He’s in his typical black on black, head to toe. The only thing different about him is the white bandage covering the bulge of his arm.

You try not to stare too hard at the way his black shirt clings to his body, flexing every taunt muscle as he strides down the steps and towards you with a force.

Refocusing, you work on the project at hand—Dorns broken drone. You mesh wires together and a spark comes alive, something like the sparks you feel when Armando takes a seat next to you, leaving up against the steel work table.

“So that’s it, eh?” He says, staring at you. “Gonna ignore me.”

You keep fussing with your wires. “Not sure there is much to say.”

Armando chuckles bitterly. “I’m sure I could find some words. How about we start with, lo siento or soy un maldito idiota.”

You slam down your tools and turn to face him, fire blazing in your eyes. “I don’t even know what the fuck you just said.” You growl.

Armando stands, towering over you. “I’d be happy to translate for you, princesa. It means you fucked up and cost alot of people their lives.”

You flinch at his words, more reality of your mistake clouding over you. “You don’t think I know that? I’ve regretted my mistake every night when I cry myself to sleep because all I can see is that girl's face.

Your voice wavers. “Her blood.”

“If you feel like that then you should have listened to me when I told you that mission was suicide.” He growls.

“Fuck you.” You spat, walking away.

Armando catches your forearm, pulling you back towards him. “I’m not done, so don’t walk away from me.”

“Let me the hell go!” You try jerking from his grip but it’s no use, you’re stuck, stuck taking his abuse.

“No, you need to know that it was your fault out there. That your place is in the chair,’ he motions to your desk behind you. “You can’t handle the field, you’re not built for it.”

The need to prove him wrong boils in your gut causing you to lift your hand and swing it out towards Armando’s face.

Bad idea.

He catches your arm with ease and now both your limbs are in his hands. You try to snatch away, but Armando keeps you steady, pulling you closer until the two of you are breaths away from each other.

The heat in your chest spreads like wildfire as you watch Armando’s eyes linger on your bruised lips, then trailing down slowly to your hands and legs, accessing all your injuries as if they matter to him.

“Besides,’ he trails on, his index finger glazing cautiously over the ring bruise on your neck. “If it wasn’t more me out there, princesa, you’d be dead.”

“I didn’t think…”

“That’s the point,’ Armando holds you steady. “You didn’t think, and you not using your head almost got you killed. And if you would have died I—.”

There's a quivering pause in Armando’s voice, his eyes slam shut tight. You don’t know what to make of this, one second he hates you and the next he cares if you’re dead or not. Armando is a mystery you’re too tired to decode.

You jerk from his grasps once more and this shocks his eyes back open.

“Are you done?” You manage to say.

Armando licks his lips, slowly releasing you from his grasp.

“I’m done,’ he says, backing away from you.

You hold onto the steel table for support, the scorch of his touch slowly fleeting.

You hear the steel door crack open and turn to watch him leave, but he’s halted at the precipice, “One last thing, stay in the chair next time. It’s where you belong.”

With that he leaves, the steel door slamming shut and your confidence crumbling down.

You tried your hardest to not let Armando affect you, but he does. His words cut you deeper than Ramos’s knife. Maybe he was right, maybe you should just stay in the chair. But what if there was another time they needed you in the field? Could you just say no without feeling immense guilt? Probably not.

So when you write your resignation and leave it on your desk and walk away from the compound, you do it because you can’t stand to see the people you care about get hurt, all because you’re not a good enough cop.

###

“Okay, seriously! Are you really going to be that stupid and go back into the house where you know the killer is! Come on Noah!” You shout at your television screen.

It’s been a week since you put in your resignation and the amount of discourse behind it has resulted in you shutting off your phone and locking yourself inside, watching shitty horror movies to pass the time.

Because if you step foot outside, you’ll be mobbed by friends from the department and your friends from AMMO who, to say the least, weren’t happy about your resignation.

All but one.

Not that he mattered anyway.

They all hated that you quit, saying you needed to come back immediately and talk this out. But you couldn’t.

How could you face them when you were such a coward and created all that chaos? They worked so hard to save lives and keep order and you did nothing but fuck shit up.

It was time to jump ship before someone else got hurt in the crossfires of your neglect.

The thought pushes you deeper into your plush green couch that sits far back into your home, well renovated garage. But hey, Miami is expensive, and this place was renting out, so you just renovated it. A little love all around and it became an actual home.

You let loose a small smile looking around, the walls, once bare and industrial, now are splattered with a lively palette of bright yellows, deep blues, and playful greens. They are decorated with framed posters of all the things you love: vintage video games, classic sci-fi movies, and beloved comic book covers, each one a nod to your past. Strings of fairy lights crisscross the ceiling, casting a soft, whimsical glow that contrasts beautifully with your high-gear equipment scattered throughout.

Your floor is a patchwork of colorful rugs, each with its own story. Some are intricately patterned, those are the ones your parents gifted you, while others are simple yet bold, adding a splash of color to the room. Together, they might be your favorite part of the whole place, just because they keep your bare feet warm on lazy nights like these.

In one corner, a plush, oversized bean bag chair sits next to a low coffee table cluttered with all your retro memorabilia �� old gaming cartridges, Rubik's cubes, and a couple of well-worn graphic novels.

The heart of your home garage is the tech haven. Your large, custom-built desk stretches along one wall, supporting your impressive army of monitors in various sizes. High-end computers hum quietly, their cases glowing with neon lights. Cables and wires, though numerous, are neatly organized, snaking their way through the room in an orderly fashion.

Shelves above and around the desk hold a treasure trove of tech gadgets and components – everything from VR headsets and drones to soldering kits and spare parts. A 3D printer sits in a place of honor, its latest creation still cooling on the print bed.

Your home made you feel complete, but still after you quit you do feel a little empty. You miss the small talks at work, the laughter, the bickering, the teasing. It just wasn’t the same alone. But again, it was for the best, because if there is one thing you know—keeping your family safe is the most important thing, above all.

And you’d hate to be their reckoning.

Flipping open your laptop you continue to scroll through your job search.

“What do you think, Chester?’ You say to your golden retriever. “Tech support job? Or maybe we go dark and get into hacking for higher companies.”

Chester whines, fidgeting in his spot next to you.

“You’re right, no going bad. Tech support it is.’ Chester rummages around a bit more before springing over your coach, darting towards the door. “Hey, I can work from home with this one!” You say.

Chester’s barks ring out, bouncing off the walls relentlessly.

You stand and make your way over to what’s got him so riled up. At the door, you bend down and pet him, still doing nothing to soothe his barks.

“Chessy, what’s wrong, huh?” You grab his collar, pulling him towards the door and opening it.

You stick both your heads out the door, turning them left and right, the only thing you see and hear is darkness and the bad storm slamming outside. You pull back inside and Chester sticks to you like glue. “See, nothing to worry about.’ You squat down to love on your dog, who's growling like crazy right now. “We aren’t like Noah, we don’t go into scary houses for fun. We’re safe here, Ramos is gone. ” You pat his head, but that only makes him bark more.

“Chester, enough already.” you stand, moving towards the kitchen and getting yourself a glass out of the cabinet, flicking on the sink, and filling it with water.

Your just about to take a sip when a loud crack of lighting explodes, illuminating your dark house, revealing a cloaked figure behind you.

You scream and drop your cup, shards exploding on the ground around your feet. Chester is in a full on frenzy right now, and rightfully so. Could this be Ramos’s men, did he send them to finish you off?

“You’re one crazy bitch, you know that?”

“Look at me, baby. I like my victims to look at me before they die.”

You scrape at your neck, the tender bruise making you hiss as if the pressure of Ramos choking you has never left.

The figure steps forward and you screech, ripping a butcher knife from your kitchen sink, and pointing it at them.

“Back the fuck up!” You scream. “I’m a fucking cop!” You take wobbly steps back, watching Chester go up the figure and sniff them…then roll over?

Chester by no means is an aggressive dog, but he loves you, and if he sensed you were in danger he’d protect you with his life. So when he begins to receive pets from the intruder, you lower your knife.

“Kelly?” You say, she knows Chester, you’ve brought him to the compound many times before, but she’s the only one on your team who has a key to your place.

The figure doesn’t answer, they just move over to the corner of the kitchen, flipping on the light.

Your shoulders drop the moment you see his thick beard and warm-brown skin peeking from underneath his black hoodie.

Armando.

“How the fuck did you get in?” You cross your arms over your chest.

Armando shrugs off his jacket, tossing it onto your kitchen stools. “It’s not exactly a place with state of the art security.”

“I could have killed you, Chester too.”

Armando snickers. “You and your pooch wouldn’t have done a thing.”

You grumble, crossing the kitchen landscape and moving towards the coaches. “What do you want, you're interrupting my movie night.”

Armando follows, hot on your trail. “I can see that. By the way, is that hello kitty on your pajamas?”

You look down and groan. Of course you’d be wearing something totally embarrassing when your least favorite ex-coworker breaks into your house.

“Stop switching the subject. Why are you here?”

Armando rustles in his pocket before pulling out a paper and shoving it into your hands.

You’re careful to unfold it because there is rain damage from the storm, but when you get it open, despite the smooshed ink on the page, you see it’s your resignation letter.

“Okay, and?” You shrug.

“Okay, and, take it back.” He says.

You chuckle. “You’re joking, right. Like you have to be joking.”

Armando’s face is straight. “I’m not.”

You plop down on your couch. “I’m not taking it back, I'm already looking at different jobs.”

A scoff leaves his lips. “So that’s it, eh? You’re just going to run away.”

You close your eyes and let out a deep sigh. “Weren't you the one who told me I should quit?”

“I never said that. I said you needed to stay in the chair, and still, you did the opposite of that.” He says.

You stand. “What’s the point of saying I’m a cop, if I don’t actually save people. You said that entire night was on me, so I backed away from the situation and now you’re mad?”

Armando sits quietly for a moment, tapping his leg against the ground. “I never said quit.”

“It doesn’t matter what you said. I did what I felt I needed to do.”

Armando scoffs, turning in his seat. “Yeah I can see that, real egoísta if you ask me.”

You stand, marching over towards the kitchen. “You know I have no clue what you’re saying.”

Armando turns, follows you, taking a seat at the bar. And before you know it, just like that compound before, you're caged between his legs.

“I called you selfish.”

You let out a gasp. “How the hell am I selfish?”

“Because you left the team!”

“I left the team to keep everyone safe! Not because I’m selfish!”

“We're safe! And we’ll be safer knowing that you’re safe, too, especially with some of Ramos’s associates still out there! I—we need to keep tabs on you.”

You stumble back. “What?’ You swallow. “Are you telling me my life is in danger? That Ramos will send people after me?”

“It’s a possibility we’re considering,’ Armando says, his eyes never leaving you as you sit across from him. “But if you come back to work we can keep you safe.”

“And what’s to say they won’t come for me any other time?” You croak. “Being in that compound doesn’t guarantee my safety.”

Armando rubs a slow hand over his face. “But I can.” He says, hardly above a whisper.

“You. Protect me?”

“Why is that so far-fetched?” He says.

“Armando, you hate me.”

“You keep putting words in my mouth, princesa, and I don’t like it.”

“I’m not putting words in your mouth. It’s just, actions speak louder.’ You shrug. “Ever since you got into AMMO, we’ve been the least close out of everybody. No matter how hard I tried, we just never connected. So yes, I’m sorry if I find you putting yourself on the line for me, unprovoked, a little hard to believe.”

Armando stands, his frame opposing against yours. He lifts his shirt and you hiss at what you see. Bandages, dried blood, and purple bruises litter his torso.

You look away but he catches your chin with his thumb, pulling your attention back to him.

“I wouldn’t put myself on the line for you,’ he said, pulling his shirt back down. “I already fucking did.”

“I never asked you too.” You mutter, looking away ashamed that you caused that.

“You didn’t have to.’ He sighs. “I couldn’t stand to see you get hurt.”

“What?” You turn, slow tears building, blurring your vision now.

“I didn’t want you to go out there because, as much as I try to hide it, I care about you.” Armando says, hot brown eyes melting into you.

You blink, stalling and stepping back. Armando…cares about you? Those two things shouldn’t even be in conjunction and your brain can’t process that they are.

The man in front of you has never been anything but harsh towards you, now he comes to your home in the middle of the night begging you to come back to work and confessing his feelings for you.

You truly must be dreaming…this can’t be real. Not that you’d be mad if it was. Despite all your bickering and misunderstandings, you still held a soft spot for Armando. You could see he was trying to be a better person, a more open person, regardless of his flaws.

And there were moments when he was kind to you, like opening doors for you, walking side by side with you to your car late at night, never forgetting to get your lunch along with the teams if you couldn’t make it. You knew he had a nice side to him and that’s why you showed him yours time and time again. Showed him it was okay to be vulnerable, but now he is, truly is, and you can’t even compute it.

“Why would you say something like that?” You swallow, something weird stirring inside of you, making you step closer towards him.

Armando does the same, closing the gap between you two. “Say what, princesa? The truth.”

You don’t mean to, but you whimper as the nickname leaves his lips. You look down, heat flushing in your cheeks. “Please don’t call me that.”

Armando scoops your chin with his index finger, your eyes latching and twinkling under the soft glow of your house's lights. “¿Por qué? no puedo manejarlo.”

“No.” You breath, studying every bridge and sharp angle of his face. This close, his beauty is unbelievable.

Armando’s thick, kept beard, is just as dark as his hair. His brown eyes are surrounded by a shade of full lashes, and his plump pink lips, glistening in the soft light. Armando Aretas was hard to resist and that’s why you feel yourself falling closer into him.

Like your mind is on autopilot, your hands fall to his chest, resting there and feeling every muscle he’s worked so hard for.

“I can see that.” Armando smirks. “I can also see that you care for me, too.”

“I—,”

“Want me to show you how I know?” He whispers, lips touching your ear and making you gasp.

You nod. There was no point in resisting him at that moment. Not that you wanted to either.

In one swift motion, Armando bends down and then you're airborne. His hands rest underneath your thighs as he carries you to your bedroom.

Walking over, your eyes never leave each other. You open your mouth to speak as a thought holds you captive.

“Is this why you said all those mean things? To discourage me because you didn’t want me to get hurt?” You ask, caressing his face in your hands.

Armando leans into the touch, nodding his head just as you two pass through the door of your bedroom.

He sets you down gently and you cling your arms around his neck.

“Why didn’t you just tell me that?” You ask.

Armando’s hands encircle your waist as he sighs. “I didn’t know how. I was just so angry that they’d even ask you to do something like that anyway.”

“And you were angry because you liked me?”

Armando nods.

“And when I was pretending to be Jenna…were you acting then, too?”

Armando chuckles, biting his lip, you look away to keep from melting. “You mean when I smacked your ass? I might have taken advantage of the situation then.”

You hit his chest and laugh. “I can’t believe you. That’s a violation!”

Armando leans in close. “I’d be happy to violate you some more, princesa.”

You chuckle lightly and wither out of his grip, taking a seat on the bed.

Armando frowns, sitting next to you. “What’s wrong? Was it something I sa—,”

“No. It’s fine. It’s just…I’ve never actually been with anyone before.”

Armando stills. “Oh. I was just joking with you,” he stands. “I can leave.”

Quickly, you grab his wrist, pulling him back. “No. I don’t want you to.’ You stand, taking his face in your hands and pulling him close. His lips are inches from yours and you can feel his nose brush against yours. “I want you to show me, just like you said.” You moan, placing your lips onto his.

Armando shutters, placing a hand on the nape of your neck. He opens his mouth, swiping his tongue over the bottom of your lips, asking for entry. You oblige and he slips inside, turning the kiss hot and fierce.

Armando swallows every moan you release, gripping your hips and pushing you back against the bed, his weight gently hovering on top of you.

He uses his legs, he spreads you open, you gasp at the motion allowing him access to your neck.

Like a man starving, Armando attacks your neck with hot-trailed kisses, lingering sucks and suckles, and licks that drive you wild, the heat between your legs pulsing now with desire.

“Fuck,’ you gasps and he palms over one of your breasts, sucking on the tender spot beneath your ear.

“Te gusta ese, bebe?” Armando whispers against your skin.

You shake your head “Yes.” You whimper.

Armando leans back, pulling at your top. “Let’s get this off of you, eh?”

You sit up just enough, allowing him access to pull the fabric off of you.

In a flash he peels your shirt off of you, leaving you bare in front of him.

Impulse has you covering yourself, but Armando reaches out, slowly moving your arms away from your chest.

“Don’t hide from me, mama.” He says, eyes darkening when he finally has a full view of your boobs.

“Mierda, you’re so beautiful baby.” He moans.

You shutter as he talks one breast in his hands, rubbing circles with it, while the other he latches his plump lips onto, sucking at your nipples.

The sensation causes your head to snap back and a deep, repressed moan to fly from your lips. Armando was doing the lords work with both his hand and tongue.

You squirm, squeezing your legs together and stimulating your spot, making your pants leak with want.

You had never had to opportunity to be with a man before, but in this moment you wanted nothing more than to fuck Armando.

“Fuck me,” you moan out. “Please.”

Armando chuckles, the sensation against your nipple makes you hiss. “Estás tan impaciente, princesa.’ He smacks your ass. “But eh, if that’s what you want, that’s what you’ll get.” He smirks, pushing you down against the bed.

He hovers on top, snatching his shirt off. All of his rippling muscles on display before you. You bite your lip at the site, hoping to see more and soon.

“If you want me to fuck you, will have to get rid of these, no?” He pulls at the strings of your pajama bottoms.

You nod, eager to have him inside of you.

In a blur, Armando pulls off your pants, tossing them to the side.

If you thought you saw darkness in his eyes when he saw your boobs, the look he has now is nothing in comparison. His eyes are nearly pitch black as he takes in what is soon to be his.

Armando spreads open your legs, hissing once he gets a glimpse at your glistening cunt.

You moan just at the thought of bearing it all in front of him.

“God, fuck.” He says, pulling down his pants and revealing a surprise of his own that makes you gasp.

Though covered in boxers, you can see just what he was working with. And to say the least, he was huge, and thick.

“Come here, baby.’ He moans, pulling you by your thighs to the edge of the bed. “Let me taste you.” He says.

You watch as Armando’s head lowers between your legs and the second his mouth touches your pussy, you fell back into the bed.

His mouth makes quick work of you, versing between sucking on your clit and licking your slit in a rhythm that builds a euphoria inside your gut.

The force of his tongue against your pussy and the pressure of his lips wrapped around your swollen clit has your back arching and screaming out.

Your toys had nothing on Armando.

“Please,” you whimper and try to squirm, but Armando holds you in place, slapping your ass twice as hard as a repercussion.

With each pass of his tongue, circling arcs on your pussy you can feel yourself climbing to the edge. Armando must feel it too because he puts the cherry on top when he sinks a thick finger inside of you.

“Oh my—ugh!”

You’re a whimpering, whining mess. The sheets beneath you turning a new shade of green as you soak them with your slick.

Armando adds another finger in for good measure only adding to the build up in your stomach. Each pump, suck, and lick causes a buckle to snap inside of you and a high only the man eating you out right now can give you is climbing.

You reach higher, and higher. Your orgasm just around the bend.

One last pump and suck, and you come undone, all over Armando’s face.

Armando comes back up from the floor, crawling over top of you. With the little moonlight that shines into your bedroom you can see yourself covering his beard, droplets of cum covering most of it.

“Taste yourself for me.” He growls, lowering his lips into yours.

You latch on and a sweet, yet neutral, flavor slips onto your lips as you and Armando kiss in a harmonious rhythm.

You never let go from his grasps as your hand travels down. You grab a hold of his massive, bulging cock.

Armando hisses and whimpers as you begins to stroke it with a various pressures: soft, hard, slow, the soft again. He shutters above you, his faces desperate and pleading.

“You’ll make me come like that.’ He breaths, gripping your hands. “I thought you were a virgin?”

“I am,’ you hiss, still squirming. “But I think it’s a bullshit construct. I’m still highly sexual,’ you say, pulling at his cock, bringing it forth. “And I want to be highly sexual with you.”

Armando bites his lips, pulling you into his lap. “Eres un problema, princesa.”

“I know,” you say, kissing him once more.

You rock back and forth, feeling his cock press against your needing pussy. The pressure making you both shake in anticipation.

Armando breaks the kiss. “Do you have a condom?”

You shake your head. “No, but I’m on birth control.”

He nods. “Good, you’re going to need it.”

He flips you over so that he is on top. Finally, he reaches down and slips out of his boxers, his cock, thick, long and full, springs to life and you can’t help but moan. Your pussy is aching with the need to be filled.

Armando spreads your legs open, angling the tip of his cock with your pussy’s pulsing entrance.

“Are you sure about this, baby?” He asks.

“I’m sure. Now fuck me, please.”

Armando obeys, slowly slipping his cock inside of you.

You hiss at the burning, stretching pain, digging your nails into his back as he pushes in, your pussy swallowing him inch by inch.

“Mm,” you croak.

Armando stops. “Are you okay?” He shakes

You grip at his ass, forcing him inside deeper, despite the burn you’re desperate to feel all of him. “Don’t stop.” You moan. “Please keep going.”

Armando pushes in further and deeper, tearing you open, until you’re fully stretched and he’s reached the depths of your ocean.

You two stay still for a moment, him allowing you time to adjust to the new stretching sensation and his size.

You lean up to kiss him. He deepens it, molding his mouth to yours, before slowly moving.

You moan, holding onto him as he picks up the pace, thrusting into you faster.

You can feel the pain melting into pleasure the more he pounds into you.

Harder and faster you begin to feel yourself loose control, your euphoria coming to hit its second peak.

“Fuck me, ugh! Please, Armando!” You shot, lifting your legs, granting him deeper access.

Armando grips the tiny mound between your hip and leg, using it as leverage to drive his thick cock deeper into your soaking wet pussy.

Animalistic groans leave his lips as he drives into you at an unholy pace. The sounds of skin slapping and drawn out, breathy moans fill the room, reaching a devilish peak when you scream out, coming and pulsing around his cock.

Armando follows you not shortly after, his dick pulsing and pumping his spillage into you.

He rolls off of you, taking you in his arms and placing a sweaty kiss on your forehead.

“Let’s get you cleaned up.” He murmurs on your forehead.

“Okay.” You smile, your legs sore and your middle aching.

Armando lifts you up bridal-style and carries you into the bathroom.

Soon you’re surrounded by steam and soap as you two bathe each other down.

Showered, you two snuggle in bed, a burning question still at the forefront of your mind.

“Armando?” You say.

“Hm,’ he is hardly awake at this point.

“When did you realize you cared about me?” You ask, angling your head to head to get a good look at him.

Armando chuckles, stroking your curls you have yet to put in a bonnet. “I think I always did. I was just scared.”

“Scared? Of what?”

“Maybe that you wouldn’t see me the way i see you.” He sighs. “I see only the good in you, and maybe that makes me a blind man, but I’m certain you’re a woman who can see through facades, and you wouldn’t see any goodness in me.”

You sit up. “That’s not true. Armando, of course you’ve done terrible things, but that’s not what I see when I look at you.”

Armando takes a hold of your bandaged hand, placing a small kiss on the palm. “So what do you see?”

“Now? I just see you, and all the tiny little good things that I love.”

A small smile graces Armando’s face before he leans in, kissing you softly. You sigh against his lips, not wanting this moment to end.

Though you two had some struggles, you wouldn’t have this pairing any other way.

You just wished you’d checked your blind spot early to see all the little signs you were missing.

[afro-hispwriter]

Satoru Gojo x reader ft. Megumi Fushiguro

-

“Oh, my little kikifuku is in there right now! I knew that position would work!” 

“Satoru please.” You giggled and brushed your fingers through his hair. He just smiled and kissed around your belly even more. 

“Y/n.” Shoko put her hand on your shoulder. “Promise me to take it easy, if what Gojo's mom said was true when she was pregnant with him is true. This pregnancy will take a lot out of you.” She squeezes your shoulder and grabs a towel to wipe your stomach. 

“That was only because she was carrying the next six-eyed and infinity user. I have no intention of dying before my kid is born.” He kissed the side of your head and grabbed your white haori from the hook. You sat up in the bed and Satoru grabbed your shoes to slip onto your feet. 

“Come on baby, we have to tell everyone the news!” 

You say your goodbyes to Shoko but not before she hands you a roll of ultrascan photos. Satoru took it from your hands and held it up.

“Our baby.” 

“Before we tell everyone, our first baby should know first.” You slipped your arm into his. “But first you need to meet with Itadori and Nanami.” He sighed and kissed the side of your head.

“Please go straight to where everyone is meeting.”

“Sir yes sir.”  You saluted and he laughed. He kissed the top of your head then bent down to kiss your belly. 

“Don’t give your momma a hard time.” 

-

Megumi saw you first and his legs were already taking him towards you. You welcomed him with open arms and he accepted it. His arms loosely wrap around your upper back. 

“Are you okay?”

“Mhm.” He pulled back. “Are you? You’ve been sick.” 

“I'm okay, but me and Satoru have something to tell you later though.” Megumi frowned(more) but nodded in acknowledgment. But he also couldn’t deny that it made him nervous. 

“Y/n!” Utahime shrieked and started running towards you. Your eyes widened and you opened your arms for the woman.

“Utahime!” Megumi stepped to the side and let you two hug. 

“How are you?” She pulled back and kept you at arm's length. “You’re glowing.” 

“We all glow.” 

“Yours is different though.” She squinted at you. “I can’t put my finger on it, it's more natural.” You just had to laugh awkwardly.

“Where’s your husband?” Yaga interrupted, he stood by Principle Gakuganji. 

“Oh he’s taking care of some things, he’ll be here shortly.” You assured him with a smile. And it wasn't long after that when said man appeared running with a cart. 

“Sorry for the wait!” From there everything happened so quickly. All with the not-so-grand or happy announcement of Yuji’s return. Megumi looked at you and Satoru then back at his no longer dead friend. 

You could only give him a sheepish smile and a nod. 

“What kind of plan was that Satoru?”

“It was better in my head.” He shrugged and tossed an arm over your shoulder. “Nanamin knows.” you rolled your eyes and threw your head back.

“Satoru, we agreed Megumi would know first.” 

“I know I know but he was right there.” He bent down to whisper in your ear. “And the ultrasound picture was burning a hole in my pocket baby.” You rolled your eyes but smiled nonetheless. “He congratulates us and says he feels bad already for our baby.”

“Don’t listen to him, our baby will be lucky to have you.” 

“Of course they will, and they’re going to know it because-.” You cut him off immediately.

“Because you’re Satoru Gojo, yes my love we know.” He pouted and poked you in the cheek.

“Meanie.” 

“Mom?” Megumi walked up to you two, hands shoved in his pockets. You bit your inner lip and waited for what was to come. “Did you know about Itadori?” 

“I did, Satoru told me. Please know we had to keep it a secret.” Megumi swallowed hard and shrugged.

“Yeah, I think I do. I'm not mad.” You let out a sigh of relief. “What did you guys want to tell me?” 

“Later Megumi,” Satoru says and the slight seriousness in his voice sparked a bit of anxiety in Megumi. “Find us in my office once you talk strategy with your team.”  The onyx-haired boy nodded and walked back to the Tokyo squad. Fists clenched in his pockets.

-

Megumi was quiet most of the time, only saying something here and there. But his knee wouldn’t stop bouncing and his heart wouldn’t stop racing at an abnormal rate. 

What if you two were getting a divorce? No that can’t be it, you two were happy… or were you? What if it's an act? 

Are you leaving the Jujutsu society? Is Gojo? No, he wouldn’t leave now of all times. 

Were you sick? Like dying sick? You’ve been so tired lately.

Was it Tsumiki? No, there is no way either of you would hold information related to that. 

Was it the Zenin clan? Did something happen and they were taking him? 

Were you two leaving Japan forever and leaving him and Tsumiki behind?

Too many questions ran through his head and none of them were positive.

“Fushiguro, are you okay?” Itadori asks him with concern. 

“Yeah, I'm okay, just thinking.”

“Anything to contribute to us?” Maki asks with hands on her hips.

“It won’t help, now can we finish this?”

-

The whole time to Gojo’s office, Megumi was trying to suppress the urge to cry.

No more bad news, please

He stood in front of the door with his fists clenched.

“Megumi. We can see you.” Gojo says from behind the bamboo door. Megumi's cheeks turned pink and he slid the door open. 

You sat with your legs crossed in Gojo’s comfy expensive chair while Gojo stood behind you with a hand on your shoulder.

“Hey,” Megumi says and stands awkwardly. 

“Do you want to sit?”

“Are you guys getting a divorce?” Megumi said instantly and you furrowed your eyebrows and Satoru let out a laugh. 

“As if.” The man says and kisses the top of your head.

“It's good news Gumi’, trust me.” He swallowed hard and grabbed a chair to sit in. 

“O-Okay.” He folded his hands in his lap and tightened his jaw. 

“We found something out this morning when we went to Shoko, and we thought it was only right that you knew first besides Shoko herself and-.” You paused and tilted your head back to glare at Satoru. The man laughed nervously and scratched the back of his neck. “Anyways Megumi I’m-.”

“YOU’RE GOING TO BE A BIG BROTHER!” Satoru screamed, animated sparkles and lights shot behind him as he pumped his fists in the air. 

Megumi was stunned and his face turned into a look of shock. 

“Oh!? That’s great guys. I'm happy.” He says and he starts blinking rapidly. It was the same action he did when he was struggling not to cry. Mom mode was instantly activated and you stood up to go to him but Megumi stood up as well and held his hand out to stop you. “No it’s okay, I'm fine.” He wiped his eyes and his head hung low. 

“Oh, Megumi.” He didn’t resist the hug. 

“Happy tears, they’re happy tears I swear.” He says and buries his face into the crook of his neck. “How far along are you?”

“Almost two months.” You say lowly to him and kiss the side of his head. 

“Family hug!” Satoru threw his weight over both of you and pulled you guys in tight. Megumi made no act to shove the man away, instead raised his hand and grasped Satoru’s wrist in a tight hold. 

“You and Tsumiki will always be our first kids. Please don’t ever forget that.” 

-

Hope people liked this😅Comments, reblogs, and likes are always appreciated🩵

[ginxyy]

Becoming a family

(Ok kinda a long one. Legit just pure fluff. I would make this man a dad immediately if i could!)

The snow began to fall softly as I wrapped my scarf tighter around my neck, relishing the gentle bite of winter air on my cheeks. Seoul transformed overnight into a whimsical winter wonderland, a magical blanket of white covering the bustling streets and twinkling lights that draped the city like a fairytale. I glanced sideways at Mingyu, my heart fluttering at the sight of him. He was bundled up in a navy blue parka, his dark hair tousled in the wind, yet every now and then, a few strands managed to fall across his forehead, making him look all the more charming.

We had decided on this late-night walk not just to embrace the beauty of the first snowfall, but also because it felt like the last chapter of an unspoken story one that had begun weeks ago amidst stolen glances and tender, whispered conversations. As we strolled hand-in-hand through the quiet streets of Gangnam, illuminated by the soft glow of street lamps, I felt as if the world outside faded away, leaving just the two of us in our own bubble of happiness.

“Do you think this is too cliché?” Mingyu joked, his warm breath visible in the cold air as he turned to face me. His eyes sparkled like the stars scattered across the night sky, and I could feel myself blushing, a quiet smile playing on my lips.

“Maybe, but it’s our cliché,” I replied playfully, tightening my grip on his hand. “And I wouldn’t trade it for anything.”

For a moment, we walked in comfortable silence, the sound of crunching snow beneath our feet accompanying the distant melodies of street performers welcoming the holiday season. With each step, I felt more alive, more at ease in his presence. Mixing the fresh, crisp air with the thrill of being with Mingyu, I had never felt so free.

The snowfall intensified, swirling around us like little shimmering dancers, and I couldn’t help but laugh as a few flakes landed on Mingyu’s nose. “Look!” I exclaimed, pointing the tiny ice crystals. “You have snow on your face!”

He mockingly pouted, wiping at the snow like a child, and I laughed even harder. The sound filled the air, punctuated by the occasional twinkle of distant bells, and I knew then that I never wanted this moment to end. Just as I was about to lean in for a quick kiss, the sound of excited chatter nearby jolted me back to reality.

A throng of fans had appeared out of nowhere, their delighted gasps filling the air, eyes wide with disbelief and joy. “Mingyu! Is that you?” one girl shouted, pointing at us.

Suddenly, we were at the center of attention. Mingyu paused, his brows furrowed as the realization of being spotted settled around us like a dark cloud. For a brief moment, I felt a spark of anxiety. Would the reality of us being seen change everything? But as I looked into his warm brown eyes, filled with the same mix of surprise and excitement, I couldn’t bring myself to feel afraid.

“Yes, it’s me!” he called out, his voice echoing with a charming zest that made my heart sing. There was something mesmerizing about how he embraced his fans, how he beamed with pride and love for them. It was what endeared him to so many, and it only deepened my feelings for him. I felt a serene joy knowing that even in our unexpected moment of vulnerability, Mingyu was still the same genuine person I had come to adore.

As the girls screamed and took pictures, I stood slightly behind him, feeling both nervous and exhilarated. I never expected to be part of his world, and now, suddenly, I was at the very center of it. Whispers cascaded around us, the energy electrifying. Scrolling through the social media site later, I’d find countless posts speculating about our relationship the seventeen heartthrob was officially off the market.

Mingyu turned back to me, brushing his thumb gently across my hand as the crowd began to disperse, realizing they may have interrupted a precious moment. “Are you okay?” he asked, concern lacing his voice.

I nodded, attempting to shake off the nervousness of the sudden press of attention. “Yeah, just a little overwhelming.”

“You know they’re gonna talk,” he said, a teasing smile tugging at his lips.

“I’m sure they’ll concoct some wild stories,” I retorted, grinning back.

That night, we walked longer than intended, navigating through beautifully lit parks and over quiet bridges until the world seemed to relax around us. We talked about everything and nothing our hopes, dreams, and silly little things we loved about each other. Despite the chaotic interruption, there was an undeniable connection that wrapped around us, stronger than the chill of the winter air.

When I returned home later that evening, my heart was still fluttering, dreamlike and impossibly buoyant. The glow of the lights around Seoul lingered in my mind, reminding me of our unforgettable walk. I drifted to sleep that night, imagining the happiness woven into our moments together.

Then everything changed. The next morning, something felt off. Dizziness washed over me as I prepared breakfast, and a deep-seated sense of anxiety settled in the pit of my stomach. I brushed it off as post-excitement jitters from my late outing with Mingyu, but something urged me to take a test.

As I stared at the small window revealing those stark two lines, everything came crashing down my heart raced, and for a brief moment, I felt time freeze. I was pregnant. Tears welled in my eyes, a mix of joy, fear, and confusion flooding my senses. How do I even begin to tell Mingyu something so monumental, so life-altering?

I could already envision how his eyes would light up with disbelief and then pure joy; he had always said that family mattered most to him. But everything felt so sudden, so unexpected.

The beautiful night we shared now felt like the beginning of an entirely new chapter. I knew there would be challenges ahead, but as I held that realization close to my heart, I couldn’t help but feel a surge of hope. This wasn’t just a romance that blossomed amidst secrets; it was a love story paving the way for an adventure, one I hoped Mingyu and I would navigate together.

That morning, I could barely hold my phone without my hands trembling, but I knew I had to tell Mingyu. My mind raced with a thousand ways to break the news, but none of them seemed right. How do you casually tell someone that their entire life is about to change? That our lives were about to change forever.

I decided to keep it simple and heartfelt. Mingyu had always loved silly, sentimental moments, so I leaned into that. I grabbed a plain white mug from my kitchen cabinet and a black sharpie, my heart beating fast as I began scribbling across the ceramic surface.

On one side, I wrote, Best Boyfriend Ever, and on the other side, World’s Best Dad.

I grinned as I imagined his reaction. It was cheesy, but it felt perfect for us. I also added a little doodle of a baby on the bottom, just for an extra touch of fun. With the mug in hand, I paced the kitchen for what felt like hours, waiting for him to arrive. I had texted him earlier, asking if he could stop by, playing it off like I just wanted to see him.

When he finally knocked on the door, I felt like I might faint. My heart leapt in my chest as I opened it, and there he was, looking as handsome as ever with his familiar, boyish grin, bundled up in a grey sweater that made his broad frame look even cozier.

“Hey you,” he said, stepping inside and pulling me into a tight hug. I breathed him in, letting his warmth melt away the nervousness that had been building all morning.

“Hey,” I whispered, my face buried in his chest.

“You okay? You seem… different,” he said, pulling back to look at me, his eyes searching my face. “Everything alright?”

I forced a smile, trying to contain my excitement and nerves. “Yeah, everything’s fine. I just well, I made you something.”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued, and followed me into the kitchen. I handed him the mug, watching closely as he turned it over in his hands, his eyes lighting up as he saw the first side: Best Boyfriend Ever.

He chuckled, giving me a teasing glance. “This is sweet, but I already knew that.”

“Turn it over,” I urged, my voice shaky with anticipation.

He turned the mug around, and I saw the exact moment it clicked. His eyes widened as he stared at the words, World’s Best Dad, then his gaze shot back to me. For a second, he was frozen, his mouth opening and closing as if he were trying to form words but couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing.

“No way,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “No way. Are you…?”

I nodded, tears already welling up in my eyes. “Mingyu, I’m pregnant.”

For a split second, I worried about how he would react would he freak out? Would he be scared? But all my fears dissolved when his face broke into the brightest, most beautiful smile I had ever seen. His eyes shimmered with tears, and before I could even say anything else, he pulled me into his arms, holding me so tightly I could barely breathe.

“I’m gonna be a dad?” he choked out, his voice thick with emotion. “We’re gonna have a baby?”

I nodded against his chest, tears spilling over as I laughed through my sobs. “Yeah, we’re gonna have a baby.”

Mingyu pulled back just enough to look at me, his hands cradling my face as his thumbs wiped away my tears. “This is… I can’t believe it. I’m so happy,” he whispered, his voice trembling. “You have no idea how much this means to me.”

I could see the love, the joy, and the overwhelming emotion in his eyes, and it made my heart swell. He kissed me softly, over and over, as if he couldn’t get enough, and I melted into him, feeling a warmth and a peace I had never known before.

But then, just as quickly, his expression shifted. He pulled back and gave me a serious look, his hands dropping to my belly as if he were already protecting the life growing inside me.

“Are you okay? Have you been feeling sick? You need to rest more,” he said, suddenly serious. “Do you need anything? We should go to the doctor—no, wait, I’ll make you tea first. Sit down, you shouldn’t be standing too much.”

I couldn’t help but laugh at how quickly he shifted into overprotective mode. “Mingyu, I’m fine. Really. It���s early, and I’ve been taking care of myself.”

But he was already bustling around the kitchen, grabbing a blanket from the couch and wrapping it around me before insisting I sit. “I just want to make sure you and the baby are safe,” he said, his brow furrowed in concern.

“I know, and I love you for it,” I replied, smiling as he fussed over me. “But there’s something else we need to talk about.”

He paused, looking at me with wide eyes. “What? What is it?”

I grinned, feeling a mischievous excitement bubbling up. “We need to tell the rest of the band.”

Mingyu’s eyes widened again, but this time with excitement. “Oh my god. How do you think they’ll react?”

“I think they’ll be thrilled, but we need to tell them in a fun way. You know, something memorable,” I said, already brainstorming ideas.

Mingyu lit up at the thought. “Yes! Let’s do it! We can tell them all differently.” His enthusiasm was contagious, and soon we were coming up with a plan.

For Seungkwan, we decided to get him a shirt that said Uncle Boo in big, bold letters. Mingyu figured he’d be so caught off guard he might actually cry.

For Jeonghan, the plan was to wrap a baby pacifier in a fancy box and give it to him, saying it was a “VIP gift” for him. I could already imagine the look of confusion that would spread across his face before he put the pieces together.

For Joshua, we planned to take him out for coffee, casually dropping the news in between sips like it was no big deal, just to see how long it would take him to process.

We spent the rest of the afternoon planning every detail, laughing and crying in equal measure as we imagined their reactions. Each moment felt like a new step toward something incredible, something bigger than either of us had ever dreamed.

By the time Mingyu left that evening, his protective instincts had kicked into full gear. He made me promise to call if I needed anything, even if it was the middle of the night. I watched him leave with a heart so full it felt like it might burst, already counting the minutes until I could see him again.

That night, I lay in bed, my hand resting on my stomach, imagining what the future would hold. It was still overwhelming, still terrifying at times, but with Mingyu by my side, I knew we could handle whatever came our way. This was the start of our greatest adventure yet, and I couldn’t wait to see where it would take us.

A few days later, Mingyu and I put our plan into action. The anticipation had been building ever since we decided how we’d break the news to the rest of the band. I could tell Mingyu was beyond excited, though he tried to play it cool, his nervous energy spilling over as we prepared for each of the reveals.

The first to arrive was Seungkwan. He burst through the door, as usual, full of energy and his signature dramatic flair. “I’ve brought snacks!” he announced, holding up a bag of chips and candy. He tossed them on the counter, then plopped down on the couch without missing a beat. “So, what’s the big deal? Mingyu said I had to come over, but he’s been all cryptic about it.”

I exchanged a glance with Mingyu, and he grinned. He handed Seungkwan the gift bag we had prepped earlier a simple white bag with Uncle Boo written across the front. Seungkwan furrowed his brow as he took it, peering inside with curiosity. When he pulled out the shirt and read the words, it took a moment for the realization to hit.

“Uncle Boo?” Seungkwan muttered, confused. He looked up at Mingyu and then at me, still not piecing it together. “What is this supposed to mean?”

Mingyu could barely contain himself, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. “Think about it, Boo.”

I watched as Seungkwan’s eyes flickered from confusion to shock, and then, in one swift moment, everything clicked. His jaw dropped. “Wait… no… Are you serious?!” His voice pitched higher than I’d ever heard, and he scrambled to his feet, his hands flying to his face. “You’re pregnant?!”

I nodded, tears already threatening to spill as Seungkwan’s eyes filled with emotion. He rushed over and hugged me so tightly I almost lost my balance. “Oh my God! You’re having a baby! I’m going to be an uncle!” He stepped back, staring at me like I had just given him the most precious news in the world. “I’m going to spoil this baby rotten! You two have no idea what you’ve done. I’m going to be the best uncle ever!”

Mingyu laughed, pulling Seungkwan into a hug as well. “We know, Boo. You’re going to be the most extra uncle, and we love you for it.”

As Seungkwan wiped away tears, I could already sense his protective side kicking in. “You need to sit down. Do you need water? I’ll get you some water.” He hurried off to the kitchen, his voice trailing behind him. “And no more stress! From now on, you’re not lifting a finger, do you hear me?”

Mingyu and I exchanged a look, laughing softly. “One down,” he whispered, and I nodded, already feeling the wave of emotions that were sure to follow.

Next, Jeonghan arrived. Mingyu greeted him with a casual, “We got you a VIP gift, hyung,” and handed him the fancy box. I watched as Jeonghan slowly untied the ribbon, his face full of suspicion.

“A gift? What’s the occasion?” Jeonghan asked, smirking as he pulled off the lid. When he saw the baby pacifier, his expression shifted from amused to completely baffled. He picked it up, dangling it between two fingers, his eyebrows knitting together in confusion.

“A pacifier? You guys are weird,” he said, shaking his head.

Mingyu just crossed his arms, trying to suppress his laughter. “Why do you think we gave you that?”

Jeonghan blinked a few times, his eyes darting between the pacifier, me, and Mingyu. Then, his eyes widened with realization. “Wait… No way. Are you…?”

I nodded, grinning through the tears that had started to form again. “Yeah, Jeonghan. I’m pregnant.”

His face softened immediately, and a slow, genuine smile spread across his lips. “No way,” he whispered, stepping forward to give me the most tender hug. “You’re going to be a mum?” His voice cracked, and I could tell he was holding back tears. “I’m so happy for you.”

For the next few minutes, Jeonghan just stood by me, his arm protectively wrapped around my shoulders, as if he were already taking on the role of the older brother. “You guys better take it easy. She needs to rest, and I don’t want to hear about you doing anything crazy.” His protective instincts kicked in faster than I expected, and I had to smile.

Soon after, Joshua showed up for coffee. Mingyu and I sat across from him at a quiet little café, where the Christmas lights twinkled in the windows. Mingyu casually dropped the news while Joshua was mid-sip, and I watched in amusement as Joshua froze, the mug hovering just inches from his lips. He stared at us, processing the information in complete silence for a solid ten seconds.

“You’re… having a baby?” he finally asked, his voice soft and reverent. When we nodded, Joshua set his coffee down and gave me a gentle smile. “That’s incredible. You’re going to be amazing parents.” His words were so full of warmth and sincerity that I felt my heart swell. Joshua, ever the calm and collected one, didn’t react with the same fanfare as Seungkwan, but the deep emotion in his eyes told me everything. “Whatever you need, I’m here,” he said quietly, reaching across the table to hold my hand. “This is going to be such a special journey.”

As the days went on, we broke the news to the rest of the band, each moment filled with more joy and more emotion than I ever imagined. Vernon’s eyes practically sparkled with excitement, and he immediately asked if he could be the “cool uncle,” while Woozi’s face turned bright red as he offered us a quiet congratulations, though I could see the pride in his eyes.

Hoshi, of course, made it his mission to outdo everyone else with his excitement. He nearly tackled me in a hug, lifting me off the ground, despite my protests that he shouldn’t be so rough. “I’m going to teach the baby all the best dances!” he declared, already imagining how he would choreograph future performances with our little one.

But it was when Seungcheol found out that I completely broke down. He had always been the leader, the protector of the group, and when we told him the news, his reaction was everything I didn’t know I needed. He didn’t say anything at first, just pulled me into a long, tight hug, his chin resting on top of my head. When he finally spoke, his voice was thick with emotion. “You’re going to be an amazing mum. You know that, right?”

I nodded, unable to stop the tears that flowed freely now. “I hope so.”

Seungcheol pulled back, wiping at his own eyes before smiling at me. “We’re all going to take care of you,” he said firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument. “From now on, you’re family, and we protect our family.”

It wasn’t long before the entire group had fully embraced their new roles as overprotective “uncles.” Everywhere I went, at least one of them was by my side, whether it was Seungkwan insisting I eat more or Seungcheol making sure I didn’t carry anything heavier than a glass of water. Mingyu, of course, had taken his protective instincts to a whole new level, constantly checking in on me, making sure I was comfortable, and catering to my every need.

There were days when the attention was overwhelming, when I felt like I couldn’t breathe without someone asking if I was okay. But through it all, there was an overwhelming sense of love, of support, of family. Each of them had wrapped me and the baby in a cocoon of care, and I knew without a doubt that this child would grow up surrounded by more love than I could have ever imagined.

As I lay in bed that night, Mingyu’s arms wrapped around me, I thought about how lucky I was. This baby hadn’t even arrived yet, and already, they had so many people who loved them so many people who would be there, every step of the way.

“I think this is going to be the best adventure yet,” I whispered, my hand resting on my stomach.

Mingyu kissed the top of my head, his voice soft and full of wonder. “I know it will be.”

Nine months passed in a whirlwind, and true to their word, the entire band treated me like an absolute princess. Each day brought a new wave of attention and affection, whether it was Seungkwan bringing me homemade snacks, Woozi composing lullabies for the baby, or Seungcheol taking on the role of personal chauffeur, insisting I didn’t exert myself too much. Even the most mundane activities were taken over by one of the boys—they handled everything with a mix of humor, seriousness, and an overwhelming sense of responsibility.

Mingyu, of course, had been the most attentive of all. He doted on me constantly, running out in the middle of the night to satisfy every odd craving, massaging my feet, and making sure every appointment with the doctor went smoothly. But underneath his excitement, I could tell he was nervous. The thought of becoming a dad thrilled him, but the weight of it all made him anxious too.

We were down to the final stretch, and the nursery was ready, the baby clothes neatly folded, and all the hospital bags packed. Everything was set, and yet nothing could have prepared us for that moment.

It was late at night well past midnight when I woke up to a sharp, twisting pain in my lower abdomen. At first, I tried to dismiss it as Braxton Hicks, something I’d grown used to over the last few weeks, but when the pain came back stronger and more intense, I knew something was happening. My heart raced, adrenaline coursing through me.

I nudged Mingyu, who was snoring softly beside me. “Mingyu, wake up.”

He stirred, groggy and confused. “Hmm? What is it?” His voice was thick with sleep.

“I think it’s time,” I whispered, my voice shaking with both excitement and fear. “The baby’s coming.”

Those words hit him like a shockwave. He shot out of bed, his eyes wide with panic. “Wait, what? Now? Are you sure? Oh my god okay, okay, okay what do we do first? The hospital! Right! We need to get to the hospital!”

I watched in amusement as he stumbled around the room, trying to pull his pants on while simultaneously grabbing the hospital bag and his phone. He was muttering to himself the entire time, his usual composed demeanor completely gone in the chaos. “Where are my keys? What about the car seat? Do we have snacks? What if we forgot something?”

“Mingyu, breathe,” I said, trying to keep myself calm despite the increasingly sharp contractions. “We have everything ready. Just get me to the car.”

He nodded frantically, still fumbling with his phone. “Right, right. The car! Let’s go.”

As soon as we were in the car, he began speeding through the quiet streets of Seoul, his hands gripping the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles were white. Every few minutes, he would glance over at me, his eyes wide with concern. “Are you okay? Does it hurt a lot? Oh my god, you’re so strong. We’re almost there, okay? Just hang on.”

Between contractions, I managed a weak smile. “Mingyu, calm down. I’m okay… just focus on driving.”

By the time we reached the hospital, Mingyu was practically vibrating with energy. He jumped out of the car, running to my side to help me out, though his hands were shaking so badly that I had to reassure him again. “I’m fine, really. We’re going to be okay.”

Once inside, the nurses quickly got me settled into a room, and Mingyu, who was still visibly freaked out, finally stopped pacing long enough to sit beside me. He grabbed my hand, squeezing it tightly as I breathed through another contraction. “I can’t believe this is happening,” he whispered, his voice filled with awe. “We’re about to meet our baby.”

It was in that moment despite the chaos, the pain, and the panic that a sense of calm washed over me. This was it. We were about to start the next chapter of our lives, and I couldn’t have asked for a better partner by my side.

But just as I was beginning to settle into the rhythm of labor, Mingyu’s phone buzzed with an incoming call. He glanced down, his eyes widening. “Oh no. I forgot to tell the guys!”

He quickly answered, and I could hear Seungkwan’s voice on the other end, frantic and high-pitched. “WHERE ARE YOU GUYS? WE’VE BEEN WAITING FOR NEWS!”

Mingyu fumbled with his words, trying to explain the situation between checking on me and answering the nurses’ questions. “Uh, yeah, we’re at the hospital. She’s in labor. It’s happening now.”

Apparently, that was all Seungkwan needed to hear, because within minutes, the entire band was blowing up Mingyu’s phone with messages and calls. They wanted updates, details, everything. And then, of course, they all announced that they were on their way to the hospital.

“What? No! You don’t need to come wait, okay, fine!” Mingyu blurted out, clearly overwhelmed by the chaos already erupting on the other end of the line.

Sure enough, not even an hour later, I heard the telltale sound of commotion in the hallway. The boys had arrived, and from the sounds of it, they had caused quite the stir at the nurses’ station. Voices carried through the corridor as Seungkwan tried to charm his way into the delivery room, while Seungcheol attempted to explain to a nurse why they needed to be there right now.

When the door finally swung open, the chaos came spilling in with it. Seungkwan, Hoshi, Seungcheol, and Vernon all burst into the room, breathless and wide-eyed, each of them talking over the other in a rush to see how I was doing.

“Oh my God, are you okay?” Seungkwan asked, his eyes darting around the room as if expecting something catastrophic to be happening. “Do you need anything? Do you want me to sing to calm you down?”

Hoshi, ever the performer, chimed in. “I brought a playlist of relaxing songs! We can play it while you give birth.”

Vernon looked genuinely concerned, his brow furrowed as he glanced between me and Mingyu. “Do you need water? I’ll go get some water.”

Seungcheol, of course, was the only one trying to maintain some semblance of order. “Alright, everyone, calm down. Give them some space,” he said, though his own voice was strained with emotion. “This is a big moment.”

I couldn’t help but laugh through the pain, grateful for their chaotic love and concern. “Guys, I’m fine,” I managed to say, though my voice wavered as another contraction hit. “It’s just… a lot right now.”

Mingyu, who had been pacing again, stopped and came to my side. His face was flushed, and his eyes filled with both awe and terror. “She’s doing amazing,” he said, as much to the guys as to me. “But… maybe you should all wait outside until it’s time.”

Reluctantly, the group agreed, though not without promises to be right there the moment the baby arrived. “We’ll be in the waiting room,” Seungcheol assured me, giving my hand a gentle squeeze. “Just yell if you need anything.”

As they left, the room grew quieter, and I turned to Mingyu, who was now holding my hand with both of his, his gaze locked on my face. “You’re so strong,” he whispered, his voice filled with emotion. “I can’t believe we’re about to meet our baby.”

The hours blurred together in a mixture of pain, anticipation, and excitement, but through it all, Mingyu never left my side. His hand was a constant source of comfort, his words of encouragement carrying me through the toughest contractions.

And then, finally, the moment came. After what felt like an eternity, the cries of our baby filled the room, and everything stopped. Time seemed to freeze as the nurses placed the tiny, squirming bundle in my arms. I stared down at our baby, tears streaming down my face, unable to comprehend the depth of love I felt in that moment.

Mingyu was beside me, his hand trembling as he reached out to touch the baby’s tiny fingers. “We did it,” he whispered, his voice cracking with emotion. “We’re parents.”

As I looked up at him, his eyes filled with tears, I knew that no matter how chaotic, how overwhelming this journey had been, it was all worth it. We had created something beautiful something that connected us in a way that nothing else ever could.

In the hallway, I could hear the muffled cheers of the band as they celebrated the baby’s arrival. Even though they weren’t in the room with us, I knew they were part of this moment, part of this family we had built together.

We were a family now a chaotic, loving, overwhelming family. And as I held our baby in my arms, surrounded by Mingyu’s love and the band’s excitement just outside, I knew we were exactly where we were meant to be.

It’s hard to believe how much time has passed. Our little Lia, once so tiny and delicate in my arms, is now a walking, talking whirlwind of energy and sass. At three years old, she’s already mastered the art of wrapping everyone around her tiny fingers, especially her dad and the rest of the Seventeen boys.

Lia has them all under her spell, and she knows it.

“Mingyu-ya!” her little voice calls from the living room one morning, her pronunciation still adorably toddler-like but clear enough to demand attention.

Mingyu, who had been washing dishes in the kitchen, immediately drops everything at the sound of her voice, sprinting toward her as if his life depended on it. “Yes, princess?” he asks, kneeling down in front of her with a grin that shows just how much he adores her.

She scrunches up her face in mock seriousness, crossing her arms over her chest. “Daddy, why is my elephant not dancing?” She points to the stuffed toy on the floor with a pout.

I stifle a laugh from the doorway, watching as Mingyu immediately picks up the plush elephant and starts doing a ridiculous dance routine with it, making exaggerated noises as if it’s singing along. Lia bursts into giggles, her laughter infectious as she claps her hands in delight.

“See, I told you! Daddy can make the elephant dance,” she declares proudly, as if she had orchestrated the whole performance. And, in a way, she had.

It’s not just Mingyu she has wrapped around her little finger, though. The entire band falls over themselves for her.

There was the time we visited the studio and Hoshi had come running over with wide eyes after Lia demanded he help her “roar like a tiger” while she was playing with some animal toys. Hoshi, ever the dramatic performer, immediately crouched down and gave her the loudest, most exaggerated roar. The two of them then spent the next hour roaring back and forth at each other, while the rest of the band just watched in amusement.

“Hyung, you’re seriously getting schooled by a toddler,” Vernon had teased, but even he wasn’t immune to Lia’s charms. Within minutes, he’d been roped into playing “jungle” with them, crawling around on all fours while Lia rode on his back, giggling uncontrollably.

The best part? Lia’s bossy, sassy side was almost always on full display, especially when she felt things weren’t going her way. One day, she had the audacity to sit Seungcheol—the Seungcheol—down and tell him very seriously, “No, no, Uncle Cheol, that’s not how you build a castle. You’re doing it all wrong. Watch me.”

Seungcheol had looked utterly baffled but also completely charmed. “Oh, really? I’ve been doing it wrong this whole time?” he asked, genuinely listening as she showed him how to properly stack the blocks.

“I think I need some lessons,” he muttered to Mingyu later, laughing at how Lia had taken control of the playtime.

Even Woozi, usually so serious and focused in the studio, couldn’t resist Lia’s pull. Whenever we visited, Lia would inevitably waltz in, head held high, demanding to sit on his lap while he worked. Woozi, who didn’t like being interrupted during his creative process, was a complete pushover when it came to her. He’d let her press a few keys on the piano, giving her an approving nod as if she had composed a symphony, while she smiled up at him proudly.

“You’re my assistant now,” he’d say in his deadpan tone, but there was always a glint of affection in his eyes as Lia “helped” him with his work.

And of course, there’s Mingyu, who has turned into the most doting dad I could have ever imagined. He’s completely smitten with Lia he’s always been loving and protective, but when it comes to his daughter, he’s on another level. I often catch him watching her with the softest expression, like he can’t quite believe she’s real.

One night, after Lia had been particularly bossy during bath time (“No, Daddy, you’re not washing my hair right! Use more bubbles!”), I found Mingyu sitting on the edge of her bed, brushing her hair gently as she fell asleep. He leaned over, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead, and whispered, “I love you, my little princess.”

It’s moments like these that make my heart swell. Seeing him so in love with our little family it’s everything I could have hoped for.

There was also the infamous “band meeting” Lia had hosted when she decided she wanted to put on a fashion show with her princess dresses. She marched into the living room, hands on her hips, and announced to the guys, “Everyone, listen up! I need you to watch me. Sit here!” She pointed to the couch, directing them as if they were her loyal subjects.

Mingyu, Jeonghan, and Joshua sat dutifully, clapping every time Lia twirled around in one of her dresses, their cheers loud enough to rival an actual concert. At one point, Joshua even got up and pretended to be a fashion show announcer, describing each of her outfits in detail, much to her delight.

Seungkwan had tried to outdo him by grabbing a feather boa and twirling it around as Lia’s “assistant.” “You’ve created a monster,” he’d joked to Mingyu, but the proud dad just shrugged, grinning ear to ear.

“She’s perfect,” Mingyu would always say, his voice filled with pure adoration. And I couldn’t agree more.

One of the funniest moments came just a few weeks ago. Lia had overheard me talking to Mingyu about a show Seventeen was preparing for, and in typical Lia fashion, she decided that she needed to be involved too.

“Dad, I need to be on stage!” she said with a serious expression, tugging on her dad’s shirt.

Mingyu, ever the indulgent father, crouched down to her level. “Oh yeah? What would you do on stage, princess?”

She looked at him as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “I’ll sing! And dance! And you can dance behind me.”

At the next rehearsal, true to her word, Lia showed up in a sparkly dress, marched right onto the stage where the guys were practicing, and demanded to have her moment in the spotlight. The band had stopped everything to let her perform her own little routine, complete with a very enthusiastic rendition of the ABCs and a dance that mostly involved spinning in circles. The guys cheered like she was performing in front of thousands, and Mingyu’s eyes shone with pride the entire time.

Every day with Lia is filled with moments like these moments where she’s the center of attention, where she commands the room with her sass, her bossiness, and her irresistible charm.

And through it all, Mingyu and the rest of the band are completely wrapped around her finger, never hesitating to indulge her every whim.

I love watching them together the way Mingyu’s face lights up every time Lia walks into a room, how the guys drop everything when she demands their attention, and the way our little girl has filled our lives with so much joy and laughter.

As I sit back and watch Mingyu helping Lia color outside on the balcony, her little legs swinging from the chair, I realize how blessed we are to have this family. Mingyu is in love with every moment of fatherhood, and I can see it in the way he looks at her his world revolves around her and, by extension, around us. The band, too, has become more than just uncles to Lia.

[random-writer-23]

~~~18+ MDNI explicit content, predator x prey dynamic, sex in the woods, Dom! Logan, my first time writing smut *gulp*, mostly edited, I need this man so bad, pst send in a request cause my brain is empty~~~

It was one of his favorite games to play, especially on days like this when he was tired from an extra hard day at work. The game always started the same, I’m at home doing something like laundry or cleaning or whatever, today was cooking. I put the lasagna I made in the oven setting a timer to alert me when its done when my phone starts ringing where it’s laying on the table, I wipe my hands on a tea towel getting the grease off before I touch my phone, Logans name and photo flashed across the screen and I smiled answering it before going back to tidying the kitchen, clearing space on the counter so Logan and I could sit and eat when he gets home. 

“Hey baby!” I chirp, keeping the phone to my ear as I put the dirty dishes I used in the sink, thinking about how I’d make Logan wash them later. 

“I’m ten minutes away” He growls and a shiver goes down my spine, already knowing what kind of night it was going to be, “you already know the drill sweetheart” he purrs, “you have ten minutes to get changed into that lovely red dress I love so much, and find yourself a hiding spot in the woods behind the house, and you better hide well because if I catch you… you know what happens” He growls and I could hear the need, the desperation in his voice. Someone pissed him off at work and I was going to reap the benefits of it. 

“Yes sir” I respond trying to keep the smile out of my voice and he hangs up the phone. Not wanting to waste any time I jump up and scurry upstairs, changing into his favorite little red dress, the silk fabric smooth and cold against my skin. I do my hair quickly brushing it making it look nice even though it’s going to get ruined in the near future. I hurry back downstairs putting on some shoes and slipping out the door to the backyard, I set off into the woods using my phone flashlight to light the way since darkness was quickly descending, its hard traversing the woods in the dark but I’m not complaining since it makes our game so much more fun. There wasn’t a person for miles around since Logan had insisted on getting a house in the middle of nowhere, something I didn’t mind for the most part since it allowed for activities like this one, although it made trips into town a hassle. I make my way through the thick cluster of trees, hopping over branches and crunching piles of leaves beneath my feet as I run through the woods. I knew I wouldn’t be able to hide from him for long, he’d be able to smell me as soon as he pulled into the driveway, especially with how wet I am at the mere thought of getting caught. I kept going for as long as I could searching for any alcove, or cave, or anywhere that could be used as a hiding spot. I trip over a small tree branch falling to the floor scrambling back to my feet as quickly as possible, I don’t even bother brushing the dirt and leaves on my knees knowing that they’re going to get twice as dirty when I get caught. I run for a little longer before finding a large tree with thick roots that form a little hiding spot. I sit down on the ground, curling up and making myself as small as possible as I hide, I turn my phone flashlight off and the darkness fully engulfs me, shivering lightly in the cold air. In the distance I hear a car door slamming shut. He’s here, I feel my phone vibrate in my hand, and I look at it, Logan's picture lighting up my screen, it was a warning call his way of telling me he’s coming for me. I turn the phone off ignoring his call, as I squeeze deeper into my hiding spot. My heart hammering in my chest and I consciously struggle to make sure I don’t move a muscle, his enhanced hearing would be able to detect even the slightest movement I make, with how hard my heart is pounding I guarantee he can hear me anyway, and if he can’t hear me he can smell me. Out of all the times we’ve played this game there’s no version where I win, his senses don’t allow it, he doesn’t allow it. And still I wait in my hiding spot, the silence so deafening it’s thrumming in my ears, in my veins, my nerves on edge, the slightest rustle of wind in the trees sending me spiraling. I can hear my heartbeat steadily thumping in my chest, so loud its drowning out other sources of Noise. I can almost sense him approaching, and It’s then I can hear his voice, humming a quiet tune to himself in the distance, the sound sends a chill down my spine, and yet I remain hidden, closing my eyes as I hear his voice get louder, he gets close enough I can hear the crunching of leaves beneath his feet. I hear his claws extend and my breath catches, he casually scratches one of the trees next to him and it cracks under the pressure of his claws, he retracts them swiftly.

“I can smell you pretty girl…. You smell so sweet” He chuckles darkly. “You can’t hide for long” He murmurs stepping on a twig letting it snap beneath his foot. “So sweet, and it’s all for me” It takes the strength of everything in me to not whimper at his words, my pussy twitching at the thought, he inhales deeply,  “Oh she likes that doesn’t she…” He chuckles, and I hear him coming closer, covering my mouth and slowing my breathing. I hear him inhale again, and I see him out the corner of my eye, I huddle up further against the tree, and he breathes again smiling as his head snaps in my direction his eyes immediately locking onto my figure hunched over on the ground, his eyes shine and he grins. “Run” He growls and I waste no time jumping up and sprinting in the opposite direction. He grunts watching my retreating figure, I don’t hear him immediately following me so I assume he’s oh so kindly giving me a head start. I sprint through the woods trying my best not to trip on any rocks or fallen branches the trees a blur as I race past. I lasted less than a minute before I could feel myself slowing down, losing my breath, I push forward hoping to catch a second wind to pull ahead but its no use as I hear him grunting and growling as he gains on me. A rush of adrenaline rushes through my veins as I speed up panting for breath, but it wears off too quickly and I fall back again. I hear him gaining on me and I scream as I feel his hands wrap around my waist tackling me to the ground, his body shifting as we fall to form a protective barrier around me, cushioning my fall, even when we play his games he always takes care of me. “Gotcha” He growls into my ear, and I shiver in his arms. I turn around in his arms so I’m straddling his lap and he grips my wrists gesturing for me to get up, and I quickly do, not wanting to frustrate him any more than he already is. He guides me over to a tree, “Bend over sweetheart, c’mon give me my prize” he purrs and I shiver again. “Honestly, did you even try, or did you want to be caught?” He chuckles darkly. 

“I tried” I whine softly and he shushes me, caressing my curves, his touch light. I didn’t try that hard to evade capture but he didn’t need to know that. 

“I’m sure you did sweetheart” He smiles, petting my head before letting his hand trail down the back of my neck and down to the base of my back, pushing lightly bending me over slightly, his hands delicately lift the fabric of my dress revealing my legs and he groans, a guttural sound that came from deep in his chest. He moves the dress up further exposing my body to his gaze, he pulls It up over my ass and he tsks. “Oh baby… panties? Really?” 

“I just thought-“ I murmur and he shushes me again. 

“You’re not supposed to think darlin’ you’re supposed to listen…” He murmurs and I shiver. I hear one of his claws come out slowly and I whine looking at him over my shoulder. “Logan.. I like these ones” I whine, feeling his claw tug at the fabric. 

“I’ll buy you new ones” He grunts tugging on the fabric and I feel it give way, and fall away from my body. He growls, leaning closer kissing my ass gently. “There she is” he rumbles, and I shiver, he swats my ass softly and I jump, “turn around darlin’, need to have a taste of my girl” he growls almost desperately, I don’t hesitate to turn around, leaning on the tree to stabilize myself, he smiles hiking my leg up over his shoulder spreading me open buffet style, he kneels in front of my burying his nose in my cunt, the tension seeping out of his body and shoulders as he breathes me in. “So pretty f’me darlin’, and you taste” He takes a deep lick sighing as he does. “You taste delicious” He groans before diving in like a man starved, his nose catching on my clit as he laps at my entrance like he needs me to survive, and knowing him I wouldn’t doubt it. He groans, mumbling incoherently against my cunt. Sweet nothings that are known only to him. I whine as he sucks only my clit lightly, my knees growing weak. His beard scratches my thighs, and he pulls his mouth away from my heat to press kisses along them, murmuring lovingly into the skin. He looks up at me, his beard glistening with my arousal and I almost cum right there at the sight of it. He chuckles gruffly at the furrow of my eyebrows, my mouth falling open as he dives back in, circling my clit with his tongue and raising his hand to bury his fingers inside me. He drives in knuckle deep watching me writhe on his fingers, his touch setting me on fire. 

“Logan m’ almost there” I whimper, my head falling back and hitting the tree behind me, I groan as he pulls his mouth away. 

“Oh no baby girl, I’m not done with you yet” he grins, driving me to the edge before ruthlessly ripping it away from me. I whine loudly as he takes a couple more deep licks, inhaling one last time before pulling himself away rising reluctantly to his feet. My gaze follows him as he rises, lowering the leg that was on his shoulder back on the floor. He trails his hands up my body as he rises, his breath fanning across my chest as he inhales growling as he kisses my neck, sucking harshly at the skin trying to leave as many markings as possible. “Mph, all mine?” He asked, groaning into my skin, and I nod in agreement. “All yours Logan” I smile as he pulls away from my neck looking me in the eyes, his gaze filled with a mix of need and love as his hand worms its way up my neck to the back of my head, cradling it as he kisses me. He pulls away abruptly, his hands going to unbuckle his belt casting it aside, as he fumbles with the buttons of his pants, and I wrap my arms around his neck pulling him closer to me kissing me while letting his pants drop and pool at his ankles. He weasels his knee in between my legs spreading them for me, I whine against his mouth as he grips tight at my dress, his grip threatening to rip it. He slides the fabric up my body and taps my thighs signaling for me to jump, I do and he catches me pressing my back against the tree trapping me between his body and the rough trunk of the tree, leaving his hands free to travel my body. The fabric of my dress bunches up around my waist, and Logan pants. 

“You ready?” He huffs his muscles flexing as he holds me up against the tree guiding my legs to wrap around his waist. I nod whining in response, “thatta girl darlin’” He grunts, readjusting me slightly holding my gaze as he pushes inside me slowly, grunting the whole way in. “Oh fuck” He groans, letting his head fall back before lifting it again angling it down to watch himself slide in “Look at her welcoming me home” He chuckles gruffly his eyes transfixed on the point where our bodies meet watching his cock disappear into my wet cunt. He pulls out slightly before thrusting forward harshly, I moan into his shoulder, feeling the stretch, a low burning sensation as he slides in further, and I clench tight around him. He finds a slow rhythm thrusting into me at a leisurely pace taking his time, enjoying the sensation of my cunt hugging his cock. 

“Logan don’t tease” I whimper and he nods placatingly. 

“Okay baby, okay, I’ll be nice” He murmurs, pulling his hips back, an emptiness filling me for a split second before his hips lurch forward replacing the emptiness with him. “Like that baby?” He smiles and kisses me, I moan into the kiss, he slowly finds his rhythm pounding into me, the tree scratching up my back through my dress but I couldn’t care less, so long as he keeps going the way he is. My arms wrap around his neck clawing at his shoulder as his thrusts become harsher and more aggressive. “My perfect girl” He moans, kissing me. “Taking it so well” He teases, his lips kissing my jaw, trailing down my neck as he pauses adjusting his grip on me, his fingers digging into my thighs feeling the bruises already forming. My legs tighten around his waist, pulling him closer, needing him deeper. 

“Need more Lo” I murmur struggling to keep my head from falling back as I look at him, he presses his forehead against mine. 

“I got you baby, I’ll take care of you” He murmurs, kissing me, pausing his thrusts to caress my face, he resumes shorty thrusting slowly, deep languid strokes that leave me twitching around his cock. He reaches down, rubbing tight circles around my clit easing me closer to the edge. I gasp at the sensation, and he chuckles. My cunt spasms around his cock and he can feel I’m close, he grunts and I can tell he’s holding himself back. 

“Logan Please” I whine, pulling my hands away from his neck to hold his face in my delicate hands. He nods panting as he speeds up pistoning his cock into me. I moan loudly and he lunges forward kissing me swallowing up my moans. I feel his cock twitching inside of me and I can tell he’s close. 

“Fuck” he grunts “nearly there baby” He moans and I can feel it building in my core, I’m right there on the edge teetering, when he gives one more good thrusts pushing me over the edge, my cunt pulsing around his cock, “Oh thats it baby” he growls, “let go f’me” he whispers his breath fanning out over my ear. I whine and a wave of pleasure washes over me and I pant for breath the tension seeping out of my body as I relax in his hold, going limp in his hold my legs quivering around him. I feel his cock twitch inside me and he groans his release finding its home deep inside me. I whimper  as he falls limp against me cradling my shaking body close to his. “Oh that's it darlin’ you did such a good job for me” He kisses my head, “such a good girl f’me” he said cradling me, slowly lowering me to my feet helping me stand, my legs shaking like a baby deer learning to walk. He chuckles, and I smile tilting my chin up for a kiss, he grants my silent plea and kisses me filling it with love and passion. “I love you” I murmur against his lips. 

“I love you more” he responds, holding me tight against him. “Now…. what’s for dinner.. cause I’m starving.” And my eyes widen, in horror.

“Shit I forgot about the lasagna!” I groan, knowing it was probably burnt by now. 

“It’s alright Love, we can order something” he chuckles, kissing my hair and guiding me back to the house, his hand on the small of my back.

[shitsndgiggs]

Well I just saw a clip of How I Met Your Mother and I came up with a Kenan x YN (Childhood lovers) request

So one day Kenan's kids asking how they met with their mom ( reader) and he is telling it with showing their childhood and teenage pictures.

HOW I MET YOUR MOTHER - KENAN YILDIZ

Kenan telling your kids how you guys met

Kenan Yildiz x fem! reader

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿

Kenan sat on the living room floor, his legs crossed, and an old photo album sprawled out in front of him.

His two little girls and son were snuggled on either side of him, bouncing with excitement.

Tonight was special—they’d been asking for ages about how he met their mom, and Kenan finally decided to share the story.

"Alright, alright, let’s get started," Kenan said, flipping the album open. "You guys really want to know how your mom and I met, huh?"

"Yes!" they all shouted in unison, their little faces lighting up.

Kenan smiled, turning to the first page. There, taped in the corner, was an old photo of him and Y/N as kids, probably around seven or eight.

They were standing in front of their neighborhood park, both of them covered in dirt, grinning from ear to ear.

Kenan had one arm slung lazily around her shoulders, while Y/N looked like she’d just dared him to do something ridiculous.

"See that?" Kenan pointed at the picture. "That’s me and your mom when we were just kids. We grew up right next door to each other. We did everything together—played in the mud, rode our bikes, even had a little lemonade stand."

"Mommy looks so cute!" his youngest daughter giggled, pointing at her mom’s wild hair and scruffy clothes.

Kenan laughed, nodding. "She was cute. Still is. But don’t let that fool you—your mom was a total troublemaker. Always convincing me to do crazy things."

He flipped to another page, showing a picture of them, now about ten years old, sitting in a treehouse they’d built together. "This is when she convinced me to climb the biggest tree in the park. I was terrified, but she wouldn’t let me back down. That's always been your mom—fearless."

His son grinned, leaning closer. "So you were best friends?"

"Yeah, we were," Kenan said softly, remembering those simpler days. "But we didn’t know back then what would happen later."

The kids all glanced at each other, intrigued. "What happened next, Dad?"

Kenan smiled, turning to the teenage years. He pointed to a picture of them at a school event, awkwardly standing next to each other.

Kenan had a goofy smile on his face, while Y/N rolled her eyes at him, but there was a glint in her eye that told a different story.

"This is us at about sixteen," Kenan explained. "I had started to develop this massive crush on your mom, but I was so nervous I didn’t know what to do about it. I tried to play it cool, but I was terrible at it."

The kids laughed at that, and his eldest daughter chimed in. "Did Mommy know?"

Kenan shook his head, flipping to the next page where they were both at a high school dance. "I don’t think she had a clue back then. I was trying so hard to be smooth. But your mom? She just laughed at me whenever I tried."

He pointed at the picture of them dancing, his arm awkwardly draped over her shoulder. "This was the first time we ever slow danced. I remember being so nervous that I almost stepped on her feet the whole time."

His son looked at the photo and squinted. "You look so nervous, Dad!"

Kenan chuckled. "Oh, I was. But the truth is, I think your mom always knew. She just liked watching me squirm."

As he flipped through more pages, the photos showed them at various stages—going on hikes with friends, celebrating birthdays, and spending summers at the beach. The bond between them only grew stronger.

"Did you ever tell her how you felt?" his daughter asked, resting her head on his shoulder.

Kenan paused for a second, then turned the page to a special photo. It was a candid shot of him and Y/N sitting on the hood of his old car, parked on a hill overlooking the city.

The sun was setting behind them, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink. Y/N had her head resting on his shoulder, and Kenan’s hand rested on hers.

"This was the night I finally told her," Kenan said, his voice softer now. "I’d been in love with her for years by then, but I was too scared to say anything. We were sitting there, talking about life, and I just... said it."

The kids were hanging on every word. "What did she say, Daddy?"

Kenan smiled at the memory. "She looked at me like I was crazy. Then she said, 'What took you so long? I’ve been waiting for you to say that for years!'"

The kids burst into laughter, and Kenan grinned. "Your mom always knew. She was just waiting for me to catch up."

He flipped to the last page of the album, showing their wedding day. "And the rest, as they say, is history."

His daughter looked up at him, her eyes shining. "So you and Mommy have always been together?"

Kenan nodded, his heart swelling with love for his family. "Yeah, we have. We’ve been through a lot, but your mom’s always been my best friend. And now, we’ve got you three to complete the story."

He closed the album and hugged his kids close, his mind filled with memories of their journey. "That’s how I met your mom," he said softly. "And I wouldn’t change a single thing."

[sunghoons-mole]

Welcome Home, Channie

GENRE // idol bf!bangchan x afab!reader - SMUT

WARNINGS // NSFW!! MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!! nipple play, established relationship, mentions of alcohol and drinking (all characters are of age), pet names (baby, darling) sorry if i missed any !

FROM THE AUTHOR // life has me soooo busy and i have only had time to reblog stuff and not write but here i am, in some sort of mood that involves boob stuff. enjoy.

Your head had barely hit your pillow when you heard the familiar sound of your cellphone ringing. Normally it was louder, considering you kept it on the charger at your nightstand, but you were so exhausted that you didn't even think to take it out of your purse - which was on the floor across the room.

You let out a groan as you rolled onto your back, deciding whether or not you should just let it go. After another ring, you decide to drag yourself out of bed and answer it.

"Hello?" You flop back onto the bed, pulling the sheets up to your shoulders.

"Baby." The warm Aussie voice greets you through the speaker, and you instantly feel that the trek to your purse was worth it to answer. "I promised I would call when I got home safe."

Chan had been on tour with the group for a few months, and you had been counting down the days until he returned and you were able to see him. You wouldn't be able to hang out with him until tomorrow, but knowing he was so close after a long time had your entire body buzzing with excitement.

"Did you? Sorry, I'm a little tipsy. Just got dropped off at home. So tired."

He chucked softly, sending a fluttering feeling straight to your lower stomach. "Yes, I did. And I am home now. But I bet I'm more tired than you are," He teased.

"Yeah, all I did was have a few drinks with my friends. I'm tipsy at best."

"Are we still on for our date tomorrow?"

"Of course we are, Chan." You fiddled with the hem of his shirt, which you had pulled over your head as soon as you got home. Somehow, after months, his scent still lingered on it. It made you dream of him each night. It made you feel less alone.

Suddenly, you felt the crushing weight of loneliness, of Chan's long absence catching up to you. It was almost unbearable to listen to his comforting voice over the phone when he was in the same city as you again. You didn't want to be apart from him another second.

"I really missed you so much. Miss you so much." A tear runs down your cheek and onto his t-shirt. You grab the collar and bring it up to your nose, inhaling what's left of his scent.

It was as if he read your mind, the way he sighed, and you could picture him shaking his head to himself. With a smile in his voice, he responded "Shall I make my way over now, darling?"

~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ -

Ten minutes later, there was a knock on your apartment door. You could barely hop out of bed fast enough, not bothering to put on pants as you ran to the door.

Getting on your tip toes, you giggled as you spotted the handsome man through the door's peep hole, with his hands in the pockets of his sweats.

You swung the door open and he wasted no time in stepping through the door and scooping you up into his arms, spinning once as you buried your face in his neck. His scent was so much stronger when it wasn't hanging on to a shirt you had worn to bed for months.

He reached a hand out to close your front door, then set you back on your feet. You looked up at him, putting both hands on his cheeks as he smiled brightly down at you.

"Hi, Y/N."

You beamed. He ran a hand through your hair, and then his lips met yours. He started softly, to tell you how much he loved you, to try and convey without words that he thought of you each day and every night, that he'd imagine you hyping him up before every single show, that he counted the seconds until you could be in his arms again.

Once he was sure that point was across, he walked you backwards until your back hit the front door, and his lips seemed to grow greedier as he nipped at your bottom lip. You moaned into his mouth, a wordless sign of consent between the two of you.

His hands moved to your breasts, squeezing them over the t-shirt as his mouth made its way down your neck, slower than you wanted. You couldn't wait another second. "Chan, please. Right here. Against this door."

He pulled away, leaving only an inch or two between your faces while biting his own lip.

Suddenly he hoisted you up by your bare thighs, and you wrapped your legs around his waist. He didn't take his eyes off you as he flawlessly navigated the two of you through your somewhat dark apartment and into your bedroom.

He laid you down across your bed, climbing over you and slipping a hand beneath the shirt, his fingers finding your left nipple and circling it slowly. "I just got back, Y/N. We have all the time in the world. I want to take my time with you."

A whine escaped your lips - a mixture of frustration and satisfaction. His intentions were incredibly sexy, but you couldn't help how badly you wanted him. It had been far too long.

He kissed your stomach directly below your navel, sending shivers up your spine and a pool between your legs. He pulled the fabric of the shirt up slowly, and the cotton dragging along your skin gave you goosebumps. He was doing everything so incredibly slow in an attempt to drive you insane, and it was working.

His lips made their way up your body, from your stomach to your breasts. He took his time kissing and licking every inch of your skin until you were practically begging him to give your nipples some attention.

Finally, he swirled his tongue around one of your hard nipples, and you groaned. He sucked it into his mouth and released it with a pop, then moved on to do the same to the other.

Your fingers were tangled in his hair as you arched your back, and he placed his hands on your waist to keep you in place. "I missed your body, baby. I missed you so much," he mumbled sweet words against your skin.

"Channie," you whined, pulling out the nickname you used when you were desperate. You knew he couldn't resist it either. He let out a pained groan, and you felt his cock twitch through his sweatpants. "I need you inside me. Please."

He sat up between your bare legs and tugged his shirt over his head, discarding it on your floor. He then tugged the bottom of your his shirt, looking you in the eyes and smirking. "I need this off of you. Now."

You obliged, tossing it to the side and taking a deep breath. You had dreamed for so long about having him in your bed again, and the wait was more than worth it. He stared down at you and your breasts as if he had never seen a sight more beautiful, and you couldn't take your eyes off his chiseled body.

Every time he left, he seemed even more stunning when he returned.

"You are so beautiful, Y/N." He dove down again, peppering kisses along your neck and collar. Mumbling into your skin again, he let out a curse and said "missed you. Missed this body. Missed your smell."

Your eyes fluttered shut and you smiled, loving that he appreciated your scent as much as you appreciated his. "Channie. Please don't make me wait another second. Please."

He let out a growl and stood, tugging his pants and boxers off in one swift movement. His thick cock sprang out, the tip already shiny with precum, and you could feel your arousal start to pool between your legs.

You seemed to have finally broke him, because he stopped moving so slowly. He reached down and pulled your panties down your legs just as quickly as he had shed his own garments, and you both took in the sight of each other, completely raw and exposed.

You sat up, trailing a finger from Chan's chest to his v-line. He stood still in front of you and shivered, letting you trace lines over his skin, bringing a hand up to play with your hair. Time seemed to slow, and all you could focus on was each other. Not tomorrow. Not the day before. As far as the two of you were concerned, there was no one else on earth. The world was only as big as your bedroom, and it only held you and Chan.

"Let me give you what you've been begging for, baby." Chan wrapped a fist around his cock, giving it a few strokes. "Lie back. Let me show you how badly I missed you."

~

thanks for reading !

with love, sunghoons-mole <3

[dimonds456-art]

Chapter 1: The Mystery of the Missing Brother

Also under the cut for y'all without an AO3

Enjoy, leave me notes to give me powers

Summertime in New Jersey was meant to be spent outside. There were the beaches, the boardwalks, the sun, the trees to climb, the ice cream to eat- sitting inside doing nothing was eating Stanford alive. Typically, he'd prefer to be inside rather than out, but today itself wasn't typical. It wasn't a normal day and he couldn't keep still. He wanted to be doing something, but he wasn't sure WHAT to do. 

Typically, when he was inside, he could just read. He had plenty of fantasy books to get through. The thing was, though, that he'd tried that already, but he couldn't focus on the words. They kept fading into the background as worry overcame him instead. He wasn't even sure what was happening in the book anymore, despite having to reread paragraphs multiple times. He was pretty sure there was a chameleon? That was about it.

He was supposed to be back by now. Ma had said he'd be back before Ford knew it. So where was he?

Ford heard the grandfather clock in the house strike noon, and with a flurry of motion, he slammed the book closed beside him on the floor and sprang to his feet- out the door, through the hall, and over to the table their Ma always sat at when giving people fortunes. She was currently on the phone with someone, twirling the cord between her fingers. 

As soon as she saw Ford enter the room, her posture changed. She went from relaxed and casual to tense. She looked away quickly, grabbing at the cord while her foot bounced. Her tone remained exactly the same, and she tried to remain in the same casual, laid-back pose Ford had found her in, but one more glance at him had her stiffening.

Ford stopped, waiting for her to finish. He knew better than to interrupt her, despite the rolling anxiety doing flips in his chest. He crossed his arms, tapping his fingers at the sleeves on his jacket as he studied the floor. 

Wood. Dark oak, maybe? No, that'd be too fancy. Maybe he could ask Ma? Well not right now but at some point later? Maybe? He heard somewhere once that you could tell how long a tree lived based on the rings it had, so would he be able to figure out how old their flooring was? Maybe he could figure out the exact birthday of the trees themselves, wouldn't THAT be something? 

"Yes, I predict your date will be much better now," Ma said into the receiver. "Good day to you." She reached over and set the phone down with a little click! before turning to Ford. "Stanford, did you need something, hon?"

"Yeah." Ford grabbed at his sleeves. "You said Stanley would be back soon," he exclaimed. "It's noon, Ma, and he's still not here! Where is he?"

Ma took in a deep breath, looking away. "I… I'm sorry, Stanford. Stanleys not here. He's…" She trailed off. 

"What? He's what?" The anxiety was only climbing. She knew something, didn't she? Why wasn't she telling him?

Last night, she'd told Ford that Stanley was going off with a friend to make Ford a surprise, and that he'd be back early this morning. When Ford had woken up and Stanley wasn't there, he'd initially assumed his brother was playing hide and seek to scare him or something. But then Ford couldn't find him. He'd searched the whole house, and nothing. Ma said he just needed extra time. How much time did he need?

Ma sighed. "I needed to try and find some way to tell you. He's… Stanley's not coming home."

Ford blinked up at her. "WHAT?!" Did he run off with that new best friend he has, apparently?? Did he get stuck in a sewer somewhere? Fall out of a tree? Did someone come and take him away? Did he get kidnapped by a time traveler?!

"I know, I know, I shoulda told you before," Ma continued. She looked… sad. She wouldn't look at Ford, instead opting to examine a picture on the wall. Well, a picture frame. It was empty now. "He's not coming home and I didn't know how to tell ya." She paused, then took a deep breath. "Stanford, your brother-"

"Ran away." Heavy footsteps entered the room. Ford turned to look as his father stepped through the doorway. He was still wearing those glasses of his, dressed up nice for the shop. His stern expression hadn't changed at all- he could have been telling them it was storming outside, the neighbors came to visit, or that they got a new puppy and that face never changed. "He left last night."

"No…" Ford shook his head. "No, that's not true! If he was gonna run away, he would have told me about it." He balled his hands into fists, swinging them up and down anxiously. "We'd have gone together!"

Pa didn't react aside from tilting his head down a bit more to look at his son. "Well maybe he got tired of always sticking up for you." 

Ford shrunk back in on himself, subconsciously tucking his fingers away under his arms in a self-hug. 

"Filbrick!" Ma shot him a glare. 

Without a word, the man turned and walked back out of the room, footsteps retreating down the hall. Ma moved to stand, but a sharp ringing gave her pause. The phone's shrill cry was loud, but Ma ignored it. She pushed herself up and stormed after her husband instead. Ford watched as his mom passed, watching her with wide eyes.

"Filbrick Pines, you do not get to talk about our little boy like that!"

"He's not our kid anymore, Caryn." 

"That's not true."

"Not our problem anymore, either." 

"Filbrick!"

That was it. Ford spun around and bolted back to their room. Not his. It would always be their room. Unless…? 

No. No, it didn't make sense. Stanley wouldn't just run away without saying anything! That didn't sound like him at all! 

Ford slammed the door, stomping over to the bed and throwing himself on the bottom bunk- Stan's bunk. It was neat- the pillow was fluffed and where it was supposed to go, the blankets were made, and most of the toys had been cleaned off of it. Stan almost never cleaned his bed, and he certainly wouldn't have fluffed the pillow. Ford grabbed at it, burying his face in the fabric. He looped his arms around it so it covered his face, then grabbed at his hair instead.

"Not true," he grumbled to himself, muffled by the pillow. "He wouldn't just disappear like that. He wouldn't!"

He groaned. This wasn't helping. He had to think this through.

Pushing himself up, he moved his hands under his glasses to run them down his face. "Okay. Okay, logic. Stanley got a bad grade in school, and Pa yelled at him for it. Grounded him. He was sent outside to wash the windows all weekend, and I wasn't allowed to help him."

He began to pace, making his way around the room as he rambled aloud to himself. He'd found that speaking like this helped him get his thoughts in order, especially if he was overthinking something. Stan always told him to talk through it, and it seemed to help. Made the thoughts more real- and if they were real, they could be studied. Made it easier to see which were more likely. 

Now, he walked circles around the cluttered room, eyes scanning their shared collection warily. "Pa didn't say why- he never does, why would he now- and then…" he stopped. "Maybe he's mad at Pa? So he ran off to make him feel bad?" That had some logic to it, but Stan had been mad at their father before and he'd never done anything like this. It didn't really seem like something he'd do. 

"Or," Ford began, circling again, "he was washing the windows and that friend Ma mentioned came by and distracted him, and he got in trouble, so when he was given more work, he decided running away was easier." That was more like Stan. He was usually quick to drop responsibilities or take shortcuts, and without Ford there to stop him, he probably got carried away.

"Or maybe," Ford continued, holding up a finger, "someone saw him in the window and thought he was for sale, and when they went to buy him he ran away! Then Pa saw him running and he thought Stan just ran away." He snapped his fingers, as if he were really onto something here. "Then, he got taken by a griffin!" 

Yeah. Logical. 

Ford sighed, pausing his pacing to push the butts of his palms into his eyes. This wasn't helping. "It doesn't matter," he reasoned. "Stan's gone. He's gone and that's that. It doesn't matter how it happened, right?" He stopped, eyebrows raising. He looked up, eyeing the singular backpack hanging on the wall. Stan's was missing. 

Ford dashed over to the spot, grabbing his own backpack and unzipping it. It was full of school supplies and books, including the sequel to the book he was reading now (in case he finished early), a different book (in case he couldn't focus on this one), that book's sequel (what if that one was more interesting or easy to read? Can't be too careful), and a notebook. 

Quickly, he dumped everything out as cleanly as he could on the bed. He made sure the books landed upright with no damage to the pages, but that was about as far as caution went. He rifled through it, looking for a note or anything out of place. Paper, paper, homework, pencils, pen, pencil-stabbed erasers- nothing out of the ordinary. 

Fine, then. If Stan didn't leave him a note, he'd write one of his own.

He ripped out a piece of notebook paper and grabbed one of his pens- a sharpie. Old reliable, honestly. He'd used that pen more than Stan chewed on his pencils, and considering that half the trashcan in the corner was full of broken writing utensils, that was saying a lot.

"He wouldn't wanna do this alone," Ford reasoned to himself as he wrote. "So he must be waiting for me somewhere. And I'm gonna find him."

Mind made up, Ford rushed around the room. He grabbed his notebook and all his pencils and pens again, stuffing them in his bag. Sadly, he bid goodbye to his books. He could always find them again in a different library, anyway. Instead, his backpack was to be filled with only the essentials.

He opened their clothes drawer to find more things missing- Stan's favorite shirt, a pair of shorts, some socks, and underwear were all gone. Ford grabbed his own favorites, giving himself an extra change of clothes in case he needed it. 

From there, he sat down. What would he need out there? He had clothes, he had shoes, he had notebooks, uhh…

Tools! 

He knew his father had tools in the house somewhere, and he also knew that the guy never actually used them. Unless Stanley broke something, there was never any need, and, well, that wasn't happening any time soon, it seemed. So he wouldn't even notice. Yeah. 

Ford quietly opened the door. He could still hear his parents down the hall, and quickly shut out whatever they were on about. He didn't wanna hear it.  Besides, he had a mission. He gently lowered a foot forward, and when a bomb didn't go off, he took another step, then another, then another. Slowly, he crept down the hall towards the stairs.

Before he got there, though, he passed the bathroom. He paused, looking in the open door. Of course. Toothbrush. 

He pushed the door open all the way before shutting it again. He grabbed his toothbrush (noticing again that Stanley's was missing, which was… weird. Did Stan take it with him?), toothpaste, and a hairbrush. Before turning back around, though, a thought occurred to him. They were gonna be outside, and they were gonna get hurt a lot. Ma always kept the band-aids nearby, and when Ford opened the cabinet under the sink, sure enough, there was a box right there.

He tucked it into his backpack and began picking his way closer and down the stairs once again. 

Now on the bottom floor, Ford worried less about making noise. For all his father knew, he was just a customer wandering the display cases. He quickly made his way over to the office, where he knew the toolbox was. Sure enough, tucked onto a shelf, was the last thing he needed before they left. 

Reaching in, Ford quickly grabbed out a hammer, a screwdriver, and a flashlight. Hammers were good for hitting stuff, screwdrivers could be used like a pick, and flashlights were always good to have. The other tools didn't seem as important. What could they use a tape measure for? Not much, he thought.

Was that everything? Ford closed the door to his father's office behind him as he mulled the question over. He tried to picture himself and Stanley, roughing it out on the open road with nothing but their backpacks and each other. He was pretty sure Stan knew how to light a fire (he'd been near them enough for some of them to be his doing, right?), so from there they'd just needed… uhh…

Oh, right. Ford smacked himself in the forehead. Food. 

Quietly, he crept back upstairs. His parents were still going at it, though it sounded like Ma was becoming more and more sad. Pa just sounded the same. Inwardly, Ford's anxiety surged. Sounded like they were almost done.

Quickly, as quietly as he could, Ford scampered over to the dining room table. On it was a little bowl of apples- green ones, specifically. Ford quickly grabbed a couple and then tied them up in a tablecloth. Then, finally, he ran to their room, grabbed the mast from a homemade boat model they'd been building on and off, and tied the little bag to the top. 

One last thing to do, then. He clutched the note close as he left the room, tip-toeing to the table one last time. He left it next to the apples, then scampered down the stairs and out the door.

If Stanley was gonna run away from home, then so was Ford. All he had to do now was find him.

Dear Ma and Pa, 

I know you said Stanley ran away, but I can't let him do that by himself. I'm gonna go find him, so we can run away together! We're probably gonna go sailing, so if you need us, check the ocean first. Lots to discover out there!

I had to leave my books here. Tell Mrs Dunn I'm sorry in case I can't return them myself. I'm also gonna try to keep going to school, so don't worry about that! I'll get Stanley to go with me, too. 

Love you! - Stanford

Notes:

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[storiesfromafan]

Leavin' On Your Mind - Benny x Reader

A/N: double feature tonight haha, but different one-shots. And I'm back with Benny x Spitfire.

Also, I promise to work on my Mattheo stories haha.

Part 1, Part 2

Tag list: @strayrockette

Wedded bliss had been beautiful. And lasted for three weeks before your first small fight with your husband. It was over something trivial that you’d forgotten about. But with that first fight there were gradually more, and they grew in intensity. A fight here and then heated makeup sex in your shared bedroom – sometimes the lounge room – a little while later. You’d always bounce back quickly.

Until it got to the point were Benny would start saying he’d leave, take off and it would be best for you. How he was trouble and you deserved more than that. You jumped at this, telling him you needed him, now and always. And not to leave you. It would talk him down, and back to you. Leaving you cuddled up together, holding the other. Something told you he did it for reassurance that you loved him, and needed him. Just as much as he loved and needed you.

It was at the sixth month mark of your marriage when the next major fight hit. It was bigger then any fight you’d both had. There was raised voices, some curse words, and slamming doors. And what was it over? Benny not getting home till four in the morning, after you’d gotten home from a long day on your feet, and made a sixth month wedding anniversary dinner for you both. You’d been tired but still put in the time and effort for your husband. Only for him to not show up.

You slammed the front door in Benny’s face, crossing your lounge room with fury. The door opened, Benny moving inside, before slamming the door himself. Though not as hard as you had. The look on his face was a mix of confusion and annoyance.

“What’s ya problem!?” Benny asked with a huff, standing by the front door.

You had gone into the kitchen, only to reappear in the door frame, fire in your eyes. “Are you serious!?” You asked shaking your head. “Alright, if you can’t work it out. My problem is you rockin' up at four in the mornin'. Stayin’ out, without a word from ya”.

He sighed. “Really!? That’s it!”

You straightened up, crossing your arms over your chest. “That’s it” you said, dangerously calm. “That’s not just it Benny!”

He sighed in frustration. “Tell me what I’ve done, and we can move on”.

You stared at your husband, if looks could kill, Benny wouldn’t be lucky. “You wanna know Benny?! It was our sixth month wedding anniversary last night, and I came home – after a long, bad day – to cook us dinner! Only for you to not come home till four in the morning!”

Slightly flinching, Benny got the picture. But recovered quickly. “You never told me!”

Now you sighed. “Yes I did! I mentioned it earlier in the week, but I guess ya weren’t listenin’ to me. Like most of the time”.

That hit a nerve in Benny. He listened to you. He always did as you asked. Yet he didn’t remember you mentioning your anniversary. If he had, Benny would have been home asap, flowers in hand for you. But now you were fighting, you telling him he didn’t listen.

“Look baby” Benny began, trying to keep his voice calm. “I don’t remember you mentioning an anniversary dinner, can we both agree to disagree, and move on?”

His voice had cooled you off, but his words fanned the flame and ignited your anger yet again. “No! We can not! I am tired of speakin’ and you not always listenin' Benny!”

Running his hand over his face, Benny felt like you both were going around in circles. He understood your anger, but its like you weren’t listening to him. All consumed by anger. You watched your husband for a few minutes, and when he didn’t speak, you let out a loud, annoyed noise. Before storming off up stairs. You wanted him to talk, wanted him to put you first more. He had in the beginning, but now you were an after thought.

Guess the honey moons over, you thought heading for your shared room.

Benny sighed with frustration, clenching and then unclenching his hands. Once that urge to punch something passed, Benny took off upstairs after you. Coming to your bedroom door, Benny lent against the frame, head resting against the cool wood. His baby blues watching you fold some clean laundry.

“I’m sorry...” he said softly, admitting defeat.

You continued to fold the clothes, back to him. You were glad he apologised but it wasn’t entirely enough. For all you do for him, for you both, he couldn’t be home at a reasonable hour. You don’t want him to do it every day, but a few nights a week would be nice. Especially when you’ve had a long day of catty women over their hair, falling into his arms is the best way to relax. In fact, it’s been almost a week since the last time you had cuddled up with your husband.

There is love in what you do for each other, but there’s been a lack in physical love between you both. Almost a week since you cuddled up to him, his arm holding you tightly like a comforting blanket wrapped around you, his head resting on yours or in the crook of his neck. Nor has there been much sex, maybe three times this week. When you would have sex at least twice a day.

Benny stood up from his leaning position. “I said I’m sorry baby”.

“I heard ya” you said, calm but sharp.

“So, do ya forgive me?” He asked in a voice that pulled at your heart, the need thick in it.

“I don’t know Benny...” that hurt to say, but it had to be said. You needed to be heard. “You’ve been coming home at all times of the mornin’. Or goin’ to the bar, which I don’t want you to stop doin’. But I need you too. I need my husband”.

His guard went up, but he heard you. “You sure you need me? Because it feels like ya don’t. Feels like I’m the problem...”

You shot around, clothes forgotten, as you stared at him. “You’re not the problem! I’m sayin' ya being out all hours is, when I’m here waitin' for ya!”

Benny’s eyes darkened, a fair off look in them. “Maybe I should go, just leave. It would be better for ya...”

When things got tough or real, this was Benny’s way of dealing with it: running away. Or saying it. Every damn time. It hurt you more then the initial reason for your fight. Which would make you cave, telling him not to leave, to not leave you. But this time it sparked anger in you, not washing you in worry and desperation to have him stay. No, it stoked the anger embers that resided in you, giving them life yet again.

You snapped. “Fine! Then leave Benny! Ya always talkin’ about it, and being the loving wife I am, I talk ya out of it. But not this time” you stared him in the eyes. “If ya got leavin’ on your mind, then go!”

Benny was shocked. Shocked you didn’t protest, nor fight for him to not leave. And maybe part of him knew one of these days you’d finally have enough of his threats. But he hadn’t expected it to be today. Then he felt anger and sadness. Anger because of your lack of fight, sadness because you were telling him to go. Yet it’s what he proposed in the first place.

“Fine!” He growled, slamming his hand on the door frame. “Alright, I’m leavin’!”

With that Benny turned around, stomped down the stairs and grabbed his jacket with colours before leaving out the front door. Door slamming loudly behind him. You stood there, looking to the open bedroom door way, not daring to move a muscle. You heard the roar of Benny’s bike, before it took off down the street. And possibly out of your life.

That was when it all washed over you. The fight, your words, his words, his threat to leave and you sealing his fate to go. How did it get so heat and this far? You slowly sat on the end of your shared bed, tears rising in your eyes while your chest ached and rose, and fell from your fast breathing. What had you done? What if Benny didn’t come back? What if he has an accident on his bike because he was angry? You wouldn’t be able to live with yourself if something bad happened to him.

For the next few hours you floated around the house, physically there doing things on autopilot, but mentally you were constantly playing everything over and over. Trying to work out what had happened. And then when it got too much, you would begin to cry. It would hit at random times. You would cry, your heart aching while you are full of worry.

At nine o’clock – when you were put together for the moment – you called the bar. You just wanted to know if Benny was there and alright physically. You know he would be mad or upset, or both. On the fourth ring someone picked up the phone, it was Brucie. You asked him if Benny was there, he told you to wait a moment while he checked. When the phone was put down you could hear how lively the bar was.

There was movement, the phone was picked up again. “Hi (Y/N)” came the voice of Johnny, he sounded concerned.

You swallowed the lump in your throat. “Hi Johnny...i-is Benny there?” Your voice cracking.

He sighed. “Nuh, he’s not. But he came in earlier. Wasn’t too good, he went on about leavin’ and I couldn’t make heads or tails of what he was on about”.

You lent against the wall, slowly sliding down to sit on the floor. A sigh left your lips. You told Johnny what happened, how you had been angry over Benny not being home for dinner. How you wanted him to be here with you more, just a couple of nights. You weren’t trying to stop him from being with Johnny and the guys. And then you told him how Benny always threatened to leave, just up and go.

“I said fine! Then leave! I was angry Johnny” you had started to cry, voice straining to remain clear. “I didn’t mean it, really. But I just lost it...I didn’t want him to go...”

Johnny was quiet for a few minutes, just the noise of the bar being heard. “I know ya didn’t mean it. I know what it’s like to have a wife, and how fights can go” he started, being sympathetic. “It might not have been the right thing to say, nor does it not mean your anger didn’t mean anything. Couples fight, it’s about workin’ it out. Give him some time to cool off and sort himself out, yeah?”

Having vented to Johnny, and hearing his words, helped pull a bit of you back together. You were glad he listened to you and didn’t take Benny’s side right away. Maybe he had a point. Giving Benny time to cool off and think might be the best thing. When he comes home you would have a talk and sort it all out. You knew it.

“Yeah, I will give him time” you agreed. “If he comes back to the bar first, will ya let me know, please?”

“Of course. I’ll keep ya informed if I hear anything on him too” replied Johnny.

With that you said thank you before hanging up. Once again left alone in the house. It felt empty without Benny’s presence. Like half of it was missing. And it was. You were feeling it. You didn’t liked how this all went. You wish you could go back and do it differently. But what’s done is done.

The first few days without Benny or hearing about him were hard. You were on autopilot, going about your day without much thought. Only when someone mentioned him, or something reminded you of him, did you find yourself crying. At work you would slip out the back of the shop, taking a moment to let your tears flow. If you were at home you would just let it flow. You would end up in bed, head resting on Benny’s pillow, allowing the small remaining smell of him invade you. Those tears falling heavier and faster.

By mid week your tears had dried up a bit. Maybe you were all out of liquid to shed. And at work you more present, able to function better. At home you still found yourself – when you didn’t have chorus to do – you would sit around or lay in bed, staring off into space. Your mind thinking of your husband, hoping and praying he was fine. And that he would come home soon, as soon as possible.

By the end of the week, Saturday, your anger had started to rise. For Benny had still not come home, nor has Johnny updated you. If this was Benny's plan to teach you a lesson, that wouldn’t fly. If this was to be cruel, then he was cruel. And so you pushed him to the back of your mind. If he didn’t care, nor did you. You went out during the day and went shopping. You decided to go and buy the dress you had been eyeing. And buy it you did.

It was on your walk home did you run into Pam. She had been out shopping for a gift for a family member. It was nice to run into her, and she was just as happy to see you. Somehow your chat ended with you being invited out for drinks that night. At first you were going to decline her offer, but after a thought, you accepted her invitation. Your husband be damned. He wasn't here, so why should you stay in and wait for him?

So, that evening you got ready – choosing to wear your new dress. Done your make up like you use to, before Benny left, as you had been too depressed to do much during the week. Your hair was done in a half up, half down do. You admired yourself in the mirror, talking yourself up. Reminding yourself that before Benny you were strong and confident in your appearance.

Thankfully the bar you were meeting Pam at was on the opposite side of town. Less likely to run into a Vandal. Entering the trendy bar, you scanned the room before spotting your friend. She waved, seeing you looking for her. You hugged each other when you made it to her table.

“Wasn't sure if you were goin’ to come" Pam said, sitting back in her seat. “Thought you'd probably go to the Vandals bar".

You flinched at her words, but did your best to cover it up. “Nuh, not tonight".

She smiled. “I take it Benny is there”.

This time you stiffened in your seat, Pam noticing it this time and giving you a soft concerned look. “Is everythin’ alright?”

“I’m gonna need a drink – or two, first” you replied with a sad smile.

So, with your first drink you told Pam about your whirlwind romance and marriage. With your second drink, you got into the small fights before getting to this big one. And how Benny had taken off. She was surprised and concerned for you. Asking you how you feeling and going. You were honest with her. That you were hurt and sad, missing him. But now you were angry. Angry he hadn’t come back or called, as you don’t know if he was alive or not.

“I just...I just wish he would at least let me know he’s alright, ya know?”

Pam nodded her head. “Unfortunately not all men think about anyone but themselves”.

You nodded. “I know, but Benny wasn’t like that. Not till now, I guess” you said in thought. “He always thinks of me, like makin’ sure I had what I needed. Pickin' me up from work if I needed it. If I asked him to do somethin', he’d get right to it. But then it changed...”

“The honey moon faze is over” she commented, almost the same words previously mentioned to you. And you had said no chance.

“I had hoped it wouldn’t...but I guess it did” you sighed.

After that chat, you and Pam tried to lift your spirits. You both drank and changed the topic. Choosing to talk about her and how her life was going. She was happy with her man, and her job. And you were truly happy for her. After a few more drinks you both got to dancing, laughing and having fun. When the night wrapped up, you parted ways happy. Thankfully, Pam’s partner had picked her up, and was kind enough to drop you home.

Waving to them at the stairs of your porch as they drove off. Smiling to yourself, partially from the good company and alcohol, you turned to your door to unlock it. If only your good mood was to last. Just as you crossed the threshold, you caught the roar of a bike engine. You froze, heart stopping. It got closer, and you turned around to watch as the person who’d been missing for a week came into view.

Benny pulled up to the curb, killing the bike before putting down it kickstand. He then swung his leg over, coming to stand by his bike. That was when he looked up to see you standing in the open door way. He had hopped you would have been in bed, considering the late hour. But he wasn’t so lucky. He noted that you were dressed up, probably coming back from a night out. Which surprised him, for Johnny had told him – when he dropped into the bar not that long ago – how upset you had been on the phone with him. Saying it killed him to hear your voice like that. And in turn, it was killing Benny to know how he hurt you.

It was when Benny slowly began to walk from his bike up the path to the porch stairs did you finally come back to your senses. You relaxed your face, putting on a blank look. Yet you felt your anger rising. Benny stopped at the foot of the stairs, seeing your blank expression. He realised your defences were up, and he understood that.

“Hi” he said softly, voice raw and vulnerable.

You released a shaky breath. “Hi...”

Silence filled the space, neither of you not knowing what to say. Nor did you want too, afraid of what the other would say. But it had to be done, Benny knew that.

“You look good, baby” he said, looking you up and down.

You stiffened at his words and roaming eyes. But then that flame of anger flickered, slowly coming to life. Of all the things he could have said, he said that. No sorry for leaving or making you worry. No explanation.

You narrowed your eyes at him. “That’s what you have to say to me?” You questioned, tone sharp.

Benny took a step back. “Huh?”

You took a deep breath, keeping calm. “You show back up after a week, and all you can do is admire me? I thought I would have gotta a bit more then that!”

“What do you want me to say” he questioned, drawing his brow together in uncertainty.

“Gee, maybe sorry I left baby. Would be a good start Benny” you sighed. “But you know what really got under my skin? You never let me or anyone know you were alright. I was worried sick you’d have had an accident. But I got nothin’ from you”.

Benny moved up the stairs, stopping once on the porch and before you. “I’m sorry, baby. I know I should have, I was just upset and in my head. Ya know?”

“Oh I know what that’s like, I’ve been livin’ it every moment after ya left!” You pointed your finger at him.

He went to hug you, but you held up your hand to stop him. “Come on. I’m sorry, baby. Let’s go inside and talk”.

You shook your head. “No Benny. It’s my turn now to choose to have space. So go to the bar, stay there or with one of the guys”.

With those final words you softly slammed the door in Benny’s face, locking it to make a point. And Benny got it. You needed time. And he would give you all the time you needed. Because while away he realised a few things. One, you loved him. Two, you wouldn’t leave him, like he did. Three, he missed you, to the point it hurt. Four, you were his person. And five, he had disrespected you by leaving like he did. You showed him how much you loved and wanted him, but he just left. What did that show you? That if it got hard enough he would run away. But he was going to prove he wouldn’t leave again.

[auras-moonstone]

the one — jack champion

word count: 940

pairing: jack champion x interviewer!fem!reader

summary: y/n interviews her boyfriend jack at the sundance festival and they reminisce their last interview where they met a year ago.

warnings: fluff. this is a continuation of one of the first stories i wrote, it’s called enchanted to meet you ! i recommend you read it first to fully understand.

After Jack asked Y/N out for dinner, the two of them became inseparable and started dating soon enough. The fans were ecstatic, having been cheering for them to get together the moment that interview was made.

Now, a year later, they were both flying to Salt Lake for the Sundance Festival, where Y/N would be interviewing and Jack’s new movie Freaky Tales would be screening. They were both excited for it because now they would be there supporting each other as a couple.

“Hi! You seem familiar.” Jack spoke with a teasing smile as he approached his girlfriend for an interview. The feeling of deja vu warmed his heart.

“Hi, Jack. Looking very handsome today.” she smiled tenderly. “Are you going to show me your socks this time?”

“Ugh, stop it.” he laughed as he covered his face in embarrassment.

“So, tell me about Lucid.” Jack started telling the viewers more about his character, and Y/N watched him with a smile on her face. She was so happy to be sharing this with him that she felt like crying, “What’s your favorite thing about the movie?”

“I absolutely love that it is set in the 80s. I actually have been trying to get in the mood during the filming, I made this playlist filled with punk music from that decade.”

“I’ve seen some pictures. The outfits were super cool.” his girlfriend added. “Are we going to see you covered in blood again?”

“Guess you’ll have to see for yourself.” he smirked. Y/N threw him a pleading glance. “You can’t use your girlfriend powers against me. That’s not fair, you know I can’t resist that look.”

“I’m doing it for the people. This was a highly requested question on twitter.” Y/N shrugged.

“Fine, just because it’s you.” he said with a grin. “Yes, I will be covered in blood.”

“Yes!” she exclaimed excitedly.

“What is it with you and blood?” he shook his head laughing.

“I’ll answer that when there’s no camera.” she blushed and he raised and eyebrow in amusement. “Moving on, is there something on your schedule for the next months?”

“Well, the shooting for Avatar 4 starts in a couple of weeks. Other than that, no. Just enjoying my time with my family and my very gorgeous, lovely, and very amazing interviewer, girlfriend.”

Y/N actually giggled, in front of the camera, like a schoolgirl with a crush. He was going to be the death of her. “Well, good for you, Jack. Thank you for your time.”

“For you? I always have time.” he winked. “Text me when you’re done with the interviews, remember you’re also here as my date.”

“How could I forget.” she laughed. “I’ll see you later. I’m proud of you.”

“I’m proud of you, too. I love you.” he wanted to kiss her so bad, but that would definitely be inappropriate so he settled for a tight hug.

“I love you.” she answered right before he left to take pictures.

An hour later, they were finally able to be together again. They were both dragging their feet towards the hotel, absolutely exhausted and drained. Plus, it was so cold that their fingers itched and their toes were practically numb.

“The interview made me a bit emotional.” Y/N spoke. Jack looked at her, urging her to go on. “It made me think of our last interview together, the day we met. I was so nervous that day, and when you appeared it both got worse and better.”

“Why?”

“On one hand, you were so gorgeous that it made me panic. I was scared that my tiny crush would ruin my first interview. And then, you started talking and subtlety guiding me through it… it instantly felt natural. I don’t think I would’ve been as good if I had to interview anyone else.”

“I think you’re wrong. You were just nervous because it was your first, you would’ve figured it out anyways. Yes, we did have an instant connection, but you’re an amazing interviewer. You love your job, you are passionate about it, and that makes people feel comfortable, because you make it like less of a dread.”

Y/N’s sight got blurred by the tears. “Thank you for saying that.”

“I’m just telling the truth, love. I watch every single interview you’ve done, and not once you had made people feel uncomfortable. You’re respectful, sweet and understanding. And you’ve grown so much, I meant it when I said I’m proud of you.”

“I meant it, too. That I’m proud of you and that I love you.”

“I love you, I’ll never get tired of saying it. And I got emotional, too. The deja vu hit me like a truck. I can’t believe it’s been one year. It seems so long ago, but at the same time it feels like time flew by so quickly.”

“Right?!” she exclaimed in agreement. “The interview I was dreading ended up changing my life for the better.”

“You’re so sweet.” he pressed a kiss on the tip of her nose. “I was smitten from the start, literally everyone called me out.”

Y/N laughed. “Maybe I wasn’t as obvious as you, because of the nerves and everything, but I was too. You were so charming.”

“Did I enchant you with my Ghostface socks?”

“Oh, most definitely. That was what made me know you were the one.”

“Am I the one?” he asked, losing the playful tone they had been exchanging.

“I know we’re only nineteen, but I feel like you are it for me.”

The words made his chest clench, in the best way possible. Looking down at her adoringly, he said “You’re it for me, too.”

haunted.ethan i didn’t realize how much i missed this🥺

fearlesslandry one year apart, same expressions of awe😫🫶🏻 best couple ever.

aurasmoonstone okay but i want to know what’s the answer to “what is it with you and blood?” 🤨

y/n.y/l/n that he looks so hot covered in blood😫

jackchampion oh? ☺️ y/n.y/l/n

y/n.y/l/n yes you should only take roles where blood is involved 😙 jackchampion

jackchampion consider it done y/n.y/l/n

y/n.y/l/n okay sidney prescott jackchampion

[guywrestlingaddiction]

That Wresting Moment: Exotic dancer v dancer - Jose v Gino Ponti (bgeast.com)

Gay wrestling has searched far and wide for the elite and today we continue our journey looking at the type of wrestler that does it best.  Last time we looked at models, so this time we'll find out if Male strippers/exotic dancers do it best with Jose v Gino Ponti (bgeast.com).

Jose v Gino Ponti (bgeast.com)

SPOILER ALERT: I highly recommend viewing this match in its entirety before reading this post.

The Backstory

One of the many things I love about Bgeast is that they provide a ton of context and background for their fighters.  Is there a rivalry at stake?  Were our wrestlers best friends?  Often this exposition took place during some trash talking or pumping weights or in some of the earlier matches - in a erotic dance off...

Gino, the construction worker, is ready to build you up?

Okay that was lame, how about this - Gino, the builder, has really nailed it? 

Jose has no costume really, the man is just a sexy bad-ass

Remember that dog collar, it'll come into the picture later on.  

The Action

Around the 10 min mark, we are finally introduced to the fight and what would wrestling be without a bit of trash talk.  

Jose talks a lot of shit.  Jose: You want to touch me? Touch my chest.  You're making me horny [sarcasm]

There's something particularly satisfying about watching aggressively hetero Jose get taken down a notch.  

And yes, at times however, the moves can be a bit questionable...

The action can still be pretty hot nonetheless.  A straining and struggling Jose being held down like a punk was definitely hot. 

But what really makes this match is less dancing and more wrestling, especially your classic Heel-Jobber dynamic.  

How can you not love this?

Gino fights back with all he's got but it doesn't even dent mighty Jose; The guy simply bushes himself off.  I mean, could we ask for a better 'moment' than this?

The Moment 

But eventually Jose comes to dominate as we all knew he would.  The guy is built like batman and whatever resistance Gino puts up is simply no match for him.  Ultimately it comes down to a battle of personas and Jose simply has Gino beat on all accounts here.  To me, this is when things really begin in all it's gay wresting glory and it's this moment, when Jose takes control that truly makes this match.  

I've always thought that the thing that separates 'wrestling' from 'fighting' is the fantasy and over-the-top nature of it all.  We are talking about a serious matter - getting hurt - and turning it into something more.  It's clear to me that the male exaggeration, the almost silliness of it all, is something that exotic dancers have in spades, and absolutely why I love gay wrestling.  

Gino, controlled and collared

A sweaty, destroyed Gino is forcefully brought to his feet - only to be taken down once again.

Did I say Jose was built like Batman?  He's actually more like the ultimate supervillain of your nightmares in this match.

[alexa-fika]

Whatever you do is going to be good anyway

But the scenario am picturing is in Marineford

Winged Reader is with Mihawk and he's hiding but during the chaos he finds himself hiding in the Whitebeards ship

And when they save Ace the escape with Mihawk's son And they try to help him go back to Mihawk

But if you want to change anything that's okay

🐼💕~

Enemies yesterday, Babysitters today ( Whitebeard pirates x male!oDracule!child!reader)

A/N: Okay yall I honestly might revisit this later and add more wholesomeness to it cause im not completely content with the level it has right now, but you tell me does it make you kick your feet?

Dividers by @/saradika

“Gurararara Ace, how are you feeling?”

"Doing good pops, still mad my jolly Roger got erased,” he grumbles

“We can do the tattoo Again; just be glad you are only missing that and not your life; you were almost a goner there.” Marco sighs

“Fair enough, still stings when I look in the mirror, though,” he mumbles

A crash sounds across the ship as what sounds like boxes and a scream echo from the storage room of the Moby Dick

“We might have a stowaway…” Marco notes

“Is it one of the bastards from Marineford?” Jozu growls, activating his devil fruit

“Be Careful, Jozu, we do not know who we are dealing with here,” Izou says, pulling out his guns

“Don’t even think about it, Sir; you are still healing,” One of the nurses comments, looking towards Whitebeard, who grunts in response

“We’ll handle it, pops; I don’t mind a little exercise; I’m bored, and if it is one of the bastards, I need to let out some steam,” he says, walking towards the storage room; the rest of the commanders, following behind him

“Whoever they are, they should be able to hold their own if they managed to make it on board,” Thatch says, his eyes lighting up with a twinkle.

“I wonder what they would be doing in the storage, though…”

“It’s probably a marine stowaway; probably best to show him some rough treatment,” Vista says as he smirks, rubbing his hands together in anticipation.

“Come on out.” He calls our

Ace kicks the door open.

“Alright, whoever you are, speak now or forever hold your peace,” Ace says, grinning

“If they don’t answer, then we’ll have to find them ourselves,” Marco says as he begins to activate his power

Ace walks ahead and peeks into the corner where the commotion could be heard from, and he stills, making gestures to their fellow commanders to lower their weapons as he kneels down

“Ace, be careful; a wounded man is still a threat, especially the ones trying to hide,” Marco states as walking next to the second commander

“Don’t lower your…guard.” he stops glancing at their stowaway

“Pop’s is going to love this one,” he mutters, turning back to the rest of the commanders

“It’s a kid”

“What, is this someone’s kid? A stray?” Izou questions, looking down at the stowaway

Reader glances between all the men staring him down, inching back and trying to make himself smaller, covering himself with his wings

“Kid, what brings you here ?” Ace says with a soft voice,

“How were you able to get on board? How long have you been hiding for?” Ace says as he sits on his knees to meet the kid's height, looking at him directly in his eyes

Reader glances at Ace for a second but lowers his face and tries to dig himself deeper into his caccoon between his wings

“He's scared, a very brave kid, that one, I would be too if I was in this situation.” He says, smiling kindly at the stowaway,

“Hey, it's ok, you're safe now.”

“Wait.. you’re, you're the kid that was with Hawkeye when we were dueling,” Vista states, taking a closer look at the winged child

Reader looks up at that

“You know, Dad?” He mumbles

“Oh yes, yes, we know who he is,” Vista answers as he gets on his knees beside Ace.

“What are you doing on this ship, kid? You know this isn’t the type of lifestyle for someone as young as you?”

He unfurls himself from His wings slightly

“I -I left the raft. Dad told me to stay on the raft no matter what, but I thought he was going to get hurt, and then Uncle Shanks came, and I got scared they were going to fight again,” he rambles on

“I think we finally have the story here. That sounds like an adventurous kid,” Ace says, rubbing his brow in thinking

“A bit brave and reckless, too,” he adds on

“He’s definitely got a good head on his shoulders,” Izou says approvingly of the boy

“Okay, you ended up on the battlefield because you got scared for your father, but how did you end up here in the Moby Dick.” Inquires Marco, looking down at him

“Everything was confusing; there was so much going on, so umm, I kinda ended up here..”

“Aww, Kid, we’ve all been through times like that; I’m sure your father will be grateful you at least took the initiative to get to him,” Thatch says with a smile.

“But, you can’t just board a pirate’s ship and expect them to be kind; you might not be as lucky next time,” he says, kneeling down in front of him

Marco sighs

“let’s bring him out to Pops; we’ll talk about what we’ll do from there.”

“Yes, I think that’s enough questions for now; I don’t think this kid needs a full-on interrogation just yet,” Vista adds.

Reader gets up hesitantly and approaches Vista, stretching his up, opening and closing his hands

Vista chuckles, lifting the child and putting him on his hip

“Are you really Hawkeyes kid?”

He nods

“Are you friends with Dad?”

“Not exactly…I mean, we know each other and have fought before…” Vista trails off, slightly unsure of what he wants to say

“There’s…mutual respect between us, but we have found ourselves on opposite sides on the battlefield.” he says, mulling over his words, trying to define their relationship best not to alarm the small child.”

“Regardless, we will help you return to your father; do not worry.” Ace states

“What are your names?”

“I am Vista of the Flower Swords”

He gestures at the group

Portgas D. Ace.”

“Jozu of the Diamond”

“Marco the Phoenix”

“Thatch, Head of the Ships Cooks

Flintlock Pistols Izou.”

“Geez, Vista, No need to be so formal.” Thatch sighs

Reader smiles, his wings flapping happily behind him

“Im Dracule Reader, umm Reader from Papa!”

“Reader? What an interesting name for a little boy.” Izou says with a slight chuckle

“This is Pops, Whitebeard, the captain of this ship,” Vista says, walking in front of said man

Reader awes at the man fluttering out of Vista’s hold and up to Whitebeard

“You’re big! You’re bigger than the humandrills at home!” He says, circling around him

“I was wondering who was making that ruckus; what brings this brat here,” he says, glancing at the flying boy

“He said his name was Reader, Dracule Reader,” Marco said, glancing up at both

“Dracule? What is your relation to Hawkeye?”

“That’s Papa!”

“Hawkeye is your father?” He says, looking over to Marco, who nods

“Vista confirmed it; he saw this one lingering around the battlefield close to Hawkeye.”

“That is correct, pops; the little one is Hawkeye's son,” he says proudly, pointing at Reader

“We found him hiding in the storage room.” Marco clarified

“He said he followed his father into the battlefield but lost him in the heat of the battle,” Vista says, explaining the circumstances as to how Reader found his way to Whitebeard's crew

“I see, in that case, Bring me a Den Den Moshi,” Whitebeard says to one of the nurses next to him

“We’ll get into contact with your father.”

“You’ll help me get back? But Mister Vista of the Flower swords said you were fighting with Dad.”

“Yes, your father and we are on opposite sides; however, your father was just following orders from the Marines, and regardless if he was an enemy or not, you are not. I know the pain of losing a son,” he says, glancing at Ace

“Because I know the pain, I do not wish it upon anyone right now; this is not between enemies but between fathers. You were not involved in the fight, and as such, there is no need for you to suffer from it,” he grunts as the nurses bring him the Den-Den Mushi

Reader’s lip quivers

“Thank you!”

“You’re safe now, kid; we’re going to call your dad and let him know you’re safe; once we do, we can arrange somewhere to meet. You’re lucky you picked the right ship to stow away on, kid,” Marco says

“I’m sure your father is worried sick trying to find you. Don’t worry; we’ll make the arrangements to get you back to your dad,” Thatch says with a smile

Reader flies down to to where the commenders stood

“Thank you, Marco, the Phoenix and Thatch head of ship cooks.”

Marco chuckles at this

“Vista, this is why I said not to be so formal! Oi kid, no need for titles.” Thatch groans out

“Is Thatch head of the ships cooks not your name? But Vista of the flower swords said those were your names?”

Thatch chuckles

” You’re something else, kid; I like you.”

“Ah?” He tilts his head, confused

“I can see you are going to be quite the handful; Vista told you our names and Epithets, surnames in Ace’s case; you don’t need to call me Flintlock Pistols Izou; you can just call me Izou,” he comments, chuckling, along with the other commanders

”Izou’s right; we all have titles or epithets; you’ve got a good head on you, kid; how about you give it a try,” the chef said, gesturing to himself

“Umm, Thatch Cooks?”

“Cooks? Now I’m not sure if you’re messing with me or not,” he laughs

“Not quite that; try again, just one word,” he says while trying to hold back his laughter

“Thatch?”

“That’s right, see, not so hard you’re already learning.” he laughs and ruffles his head

He beams at the compliment and glances at Vista

“Vista?”

“Haha, that’s my name, kid,” he says.

“Well done!” he exclaims happily, picking him up once again and placing him on his shoulders

Joyous giggles escape the small boy, holding onto his head and flapping his wings occasionally to keep balance until he picks up the sound of the Den Den Mushi ringing and a familiar voice coming through

“Hawkeye,” Whitebeard calls curtly

“What do you want, Shirohige? If this concerns the recent battle, I really do not have time-

“It’s about your son; he is here.”

Mihawk falls silent for a moment

“What?”

“Your son stowed away on the Moby Dick; he said he was trying to escape the head of the battle and ended up in my ship.”

“Where are you?”

“We are approaching Sabaody Archipelago.”

“Very well. I will be there shortly.”

“We’ll be waiting for you,” he said, hanging up and glancing toward the child

“He will meet us at the next Island.”

Reader can’t help but laugh with relief, glad that they will see their father soon

Vista chuckles

“You’re in a better mood than you were when we first discovered you now, aren’t you?”

He nods

“Im gonna see Dad again!”

“You sure are; you just have to stick with us, and we’ll ensure you get to him safe and sound,” Ace exclaims

“Okay!”

Vista smiles, taking off his iconic hat and placing it over the child

They giggle as the hat envelops them, and he raises it slightly to take a small peek and be able to see

Ace smiles at the gesture, happy to see the kid smile after the traumatic ordeal he’s been through

“Glad you are in a better mood,” Ace grins, ruffling Reader’s hair

“That’s good to hear, kid; I’m happy as well,” Marco adds, giving the kid’s hat a little pat before pulling it back down to cover them

They shriek cheerfully as they are once again enveloped by the hat

“Gurararara, We’ve got ourselves a live one; didn't get that from your father, that’s for sure.” he grinned as the ship pulled up to the Archipelago; it was still dark out but slowly beginning to become morning in the distance

“Hm? Isin’t that Hawkeye over there?” Thatch comments, squinting his eyes to a small raft that slowly approached the Moby Dick

“Let’s not get too close to the raft; let him approach us,” Izou says, looking towards the raft

“He won’t try anything, not with his son here, and Im sure even someone like him can tell when he is outnumbered with all of our commanders and pops here Marco says, leaning against the railing and staring at the approaching raft

Ace approaches the railing, trying to get a better view of the raft, looking to make out the figure at the front

“It is him.”

“Dad?” The small child says, peeking out from under the hat again

“Dad!” He exclaims, taking off towards the approaching raft, ignoring the calls from the pirates as he barrels into Mihawk, hugging him tightly, tears pooling in his eyes as he apologizes repeatedly.

“I’m sorry, Dad; you told me to stay in the raft, but I thought you would get hurt, and I just caused more trouble for you. I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he cries

Mihawk stands frozen for a second, taken back by his son’s words

“No. Your apology is unnecessary. The fault lies in me for leaving you alone. What’s important is that you are back with me now.” he says, embracing him

“Look, I require you to stay by my side from now on, okay? No more running off by yourself.” Mihawk says as the raft gradually comes closer to the Moby Dick.

He nods his head vigorously, the hat too big for his head, wobbling around at the movement

Mihawk glances up at the hat and raises an eyebrow mutely, questioning his child

“It’s Mister Vista’s”

“Is that so?” he says, glancing up at the Moby Dick, spotting said man along with the commanders and Whitebeard himself leaning against the railing, watching father and son

Whitebeard’s gaze slowly falls upon Mihawk.

“You’ve got yourself a handful there, Hawkeye. But I must say, it’s good to see someone capable of putting the past behind them; such is the innocence of childhood.”

“Indeed, it is something that I have sworn myself to protect at all cost,” he says, looking back upon his son

“We meet Again, Hawkeye,” Vista says, grinning at the swordsman

“It seems we do, Vista of the Flower Swords; you have my gratitude for taking care of my son

“It was my pleasure; he is definitely something special, though,” he says with a chuckle

“Let us finish the fight we put on hold the next time we see each other; I anxiously wait to see who will come on top; the promise of that is enough payment for me.”

“Then so it shall be; the next time we encounter, we will let our blades finish what they started,” he said, preparing to return home with his son

“Ah, wait!” He said, flying back to the Moby Dick and gently placing Vista’s hat on his head once again

“Thank you, Mister Vista, thank you, everyone; I hope I can see you again! I had fun!”

“You’ll be seeing me again someday, kid, so make sure you do all you can to get stronger,” he says, lowering the child to the ground, ruffling his hair

“You’re going to make quite a fine pirate someday,” Vista laughs, ruffling the boy’s hair. “now get on back to your father and get some rest; this was a big day for you.”

“And don’t worry, kid, all of you are always welcome on my ship; just make sure next time to board it the proper way and not as a stowaway,” Whitebeard says with a broad smile

“I couldn’t agree more. Don’t be a stranger, kid!” Ace says to the pair as he watches over the kid

“You’re lucky it was us you picked to stow away with, kid; you have nothing to worry about from us,” Marco adds, ruffling Reader’s head

Whitebeard’s gaze falls upon the two once again as they bid their farewells to the kid

Future parts with Uncle shanks? Or Maybe Whitebeard pirates babysitting?

Taglist:

@imaginarydreams

@amethystviolin

[steddieas-shegoes]

even with the hole

for @steddiemicrofic prompt 'hole' (yes, again) rated t | wc: 404 | cw: implied and brief mention of child abuse, implied parental death (in the past) | tags: getting together, first kiss, angst with a happy ending

📷📷📷📷📷📷📷📷📷📷📷📷📷

The cigarette burned a hole through the picture, the last remaining image Eddie had of his mom.

His dad was crying, mostly out of anger, fear. His glossed-over eyes kept glancing at Eddie sobbing a few feet away, begging for him to stop.

It felt cruel that the last time he saw his dad was also the last time he saw his mom.

The picture in his wallet when Eddie nearly died had a hole where a woman should be. Steve could tell that much.

He wasn't trying to be nosy, he just needed to try to get his driver's license out so they could confirm his information for the ER nurse. The picture fell out when he pulled cards and slips of paper out of the front pocket of his wallet.

He quickly slipped it into his own pocket so they wouldn't see it or take it, and handed over the things they needed.

But the more he looked at the picture, the more confused he got.

In the picture, Eddie was no older than four or five, sitting in a woman's lap while she showed him a chord on a guitar. Some of the top of Eddie's head had been burned off along with the woman's entire face.

Steve may not know much about Eddie, but it was pretty obvious this person was important to him.

He hoped he got the chance to ask about it.

He waited. Eddie woke up to a lot of questions, about what happened, how he was, where did it hurt. Steve didn't wanna add to it.

Days later, Steve managed to stick around after visiting hours were over.

Eddie was tired, but insisted on the company.

Steve pulled the picture from his pocket and watched Eddie's face go through a series of complicated emotions.

"I didn't want this to go missing. Seems important," he said.

"Yeah," Eddie nodded, gulped.

"She taught you guitar?"

"She tried. I was still too young. Wayne taught me."

Steve placed his hand on top of Eddie's. "You remember our first grade play?" Steve handed him another picture. "She was there."

Eddie looked down and saw his mom.

"How?"

"Nancy knows how to find anything," Steve shrugged.

Eddie let the tears fall. "Kinda wanna kiss you."

"Wouldn't say no."

"Pretty unsexy to kiss while I'm crying, don't ya think?"

Steve leaned in and pressed his lips to Eddie's. "Not to me, Eds."