#you could not pay me to draw their mask though

[hexados-on-a-string]

50% of the mechtanium surge arc 1 experience is just this

[deebris]

From annoying to beloved

Homelander x fem!Reader

Synopsis: The new member of the Seven annoys Captain Patria with their habit of doodling in the corners all the time, but he didn't expect to end up liking it.

During the fourth season, it can be read as both romantic and platonic.

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of murder, the reader has the power to control plasma, fluffy.

The reader is also kind of anxious.

Word count: 2.9k

"You gotta be fucking kidding with me." Homelander interrupted abruptly upon hearing snores in the room. "Is Noir sleeping?"

"Mmhmm," Firecracker murmured in agreement, but the masked superhero jolted awake when The Deep kicked his chair.

"Oh, shit! Sorry, guys." Black Noir straightened up, while the Captain shook his head in disbelief, unable to fathom what he had just witnessed.

"Ah, what the fuck." The blonde furrowed his brows, eyes darting around the room quickly, then fixing on a specific point when something else caught his attention. He had noticed you earlier with a notebook and pencil, but now you're not writing but drawing. The irritating sound of the graphite scraping against the paper had been bothering him for some time, but he had tried to ignore it, assuming as a newcomer you were taking notes.

He wouldn't lie. Though he found taking notes utterly stupid, he liked to think someone was that focused on what he said. Not that he needed it, just opening his lips and everyone would be watching him. But as if that weren't enough, he finally realized you were dressed in regular civilian clothes.

"Radiance, where's your suit?" He asked slowly, but angrily. "Can't anyone do anything right around here?"

You finally tore your attention from the paper, meeting Homelander gaze directly. It's not that you weren't paying attention—in fact, you were, maybe more than anyone else there. It was easier to absorb things while doodling, a way to calm your nerves. Well, that or rubbing your sweaty fingers together until they hurt.

No one ever understood. Even back in school, your parents used to receive complaints about you drawing during class, no matter how high your grades were or the fact that you were the top student.

This was your first meeting with the Seven, and the last thing you wanted was to give the impression of being careless or not caring about being there. It could be said that one of the best days of your life was yesterday when Vought sent you a notice, letting you know that the greatest superhero of all had personally chosen you to join the team. After so many "retarded" - in his words - he had been forced to accept into the Seven, Homelander saw in you, above all, the opportunity to make up for Firecracker's ridiculous weakness.

When Ashley began talking about your powers, he had no doubt the last spot was yours. It was simply brilliant. Who the hell would have imagined someone would have powers to control a state of matter? You could maneuver fire, generate electrical discharges, disrupt magnetic fields, and damn it, you could split atoms as if slicing butter.

Vought's scientists said they didn't know if it was possible, but you could destroy the damn out of a star one day. Homelander wasn't a science guy, but in one of his moments of boredom, he got curious and did some research. He didn't even know that plasma crap was all that, he thought it was a cell thing or whatever.

He always thought someone with a power as peculiar as yours, and at your age, would be arrogant or just plain dumb. But you were actually the complete opposite. You didn't speak unnecessarily, and while you seemed very aware of your own actions, you had no clue how powerful you were, or perhaps ignored that fact. The blonde thought you were an idiot for it, but he appreciated the inferiority you submitted to, especially in relation to himself.

"I don't have one, sir," you replied to his question, feeling small with everyone looking.

"What the hell?" He continued, focusing on you with incredulous voice, he couldn't believe it. How did someone end up here without even having a superhero suit?

The truth was, you had never been part of any team before, nor had you received any sponsorship during your life, or even attended Godolkin University. The only thing you had were your powers, which were indeed impressive. You never chased after any position, nor were you ever obsessed with being a famous superheroine, but lately you thought it would be a good adventure to radicalize your life. That's when you applied to join the Seven.

"How do you have a name and not have a fucking suit?" He asked, boiling with anger, fists clenching tightly behind his back.

"They gave me a name when I filled out the application," you answered honestly. That day, after they chose to call you Radiance, a random and easily commercial name, you couldn't complain much and didn't want to bother, so you left it at that.

"You'll be introduced as an official member of the Seven tomorrow, how do you not have a suit?" He took his hands off his back, moving them as he spoke to express his confusion, and for a few moments you followed it movement like a child who can't keep their attention on anything for long. "Who's handling your marketing?"

You couldn't answer, so you stayed silent and no one else dared to say a word either. You had no idea who was handling your marketing, not knowing you should even have that. You glanced quickly around the table, perhaps seeking some kind of help for the situation, but everyone looked down when they realized you were staring at them. They were enjoying themselves, and that made you exhale through your nose in embarrassment.

"You know what? Fuck it, doesn't matter." Homelander brought his fingers to his furrowed forehead, letting out a loud sigh as he calmed down. "Just... don't show up like this in public until someone gives you a suit."

"Yes, sir," you replied tensely, relieved that he had resolved the matter.

Sister Sage widened her eyes in relief when she finally saw the superhero sitting beside her. She opened her mouth to begin speaking, as she had intended from the beginning, but when some sound was about to come out of her mouth, Homelander spoke to you again, this time pointing an accusatory finger at you:

"And stop drawing, damn it," he ordered, causing you to slowly drop the pencil on the table, as if caught doing something wrong with the weapon of the crime in hand. You stared at your lap throughout the entire meeting, embarrassed for messing everything up on your first day.

When the meeting ended, you followed most people out of the room, but stopped nearby in one of the hallways. You slid down the wall, crouching in a hidden corner, and lightly tapped the sketchbook against your forehead in annoyance.

"Stupid," you murmured softly to yourself. It was so ridiculous, yet it embarrassed you so much. Maybe this first day wasn't so bad after all. You would have plenty of time to prove your worth to everyone, no need to dwell on this situation. Even though you had been corrected in front of some of the most iconic supers by Homelander himself, this situation could be overcome. It was thinking about it that kept you from letting the burning tears fall.

"I can hear you whining," Homelander voice made you jump to your feet, startled to be caught once again doing something you shouldn't. He didn't seem happy, and his expression was so intimidating that you felt like Mariah Carey performing for a crowd of Eminem fans.

He approached you in slow steps and you held the sketchtebook protectively to your chest, as if that could protect you from something. He glanced down to briefly see the object in your hands and looked at you with disgust.

"If you don't straighten up, I'll kick you out. Got it?" Everything about him exuded threat. Maybe if he weren't so imposing and powerful, that sentence would have sounded a bit like the janitor from your old school scolding you for spending too much time in the bathroom during class.

You were paralyzed standing there and all you could do was a nod. But your gesture made him more aggressive.

"Answer with your mouth. Are you mute or something?" And there he was, hands behind his back again. He seemed to enjoy that pose.

"I won't mess up, sir," you said, swallowing your saliva.

"And get rid of that. Or burn it, do whatever, just get rid of it. And I better not see you with that again," he said referring to your notebook, walking away faster than before. "These kids..." you heard him mutter distantly.

After that happened, you didn't destroy the sketchtebook, but you were afraid of being caught and kept it safely tucked away in the back of a drawer in your room. What the eyes don't see, the heart doesn't feel, right? You mentally made a promise to yourself not to use it anywhere else but here, to avoid causing more trouble.

It's been a week since you've been with the Seven, and several strange things have happened. You quickly realized that Homelander wasn't the pristine and merciful hero everyone believed him to be. But the truth was that deep down you already expected that. Everything about heroes always seemed too perfect and pure, there had to be a catch. Despite everything, you still remained yourself, never intentionally hurting anyone or getting involved in murders and conspiracies.

You were comfortable helping out with some minor crimes that Vought sent you to solve, but by now you suspected that sooner or later Homelander would ask you to do some of his atrocities. It was still hard to think about how to feel about it, but you weren't naive, you were already mentally preparing to submit to it or else be killed.

During that time, as you adjusted and interacted with the team, it didn't go unnoticed by Homelander that you were drawing on your own hand, or on napkins and on random sheets you found lying around, even though you hadn't shown up with your sketchtebook again. This was starting to wear on his last nerve, but he tried to ignore it. As long stayed as you were, without asking too many questions and obedient, he made an effort to continue overlooking your makeshift drawings.

"Meeting's over," the blond suddenly declared, interrupting another of the Seven's weekly gatherings while cutting off The Deep's rambling about his ideas.

"But I haven't even talked about the flying shark yet," he tried to defend himself.

"Shut up," Homelander's voice rang out sternly in the room, issuing a warning that the man promptly obeyed.

"Right. Meeting's over." Ashley nervously moved to gather the portfolios on the new soda advertisement she had come to present, but as soon as she touched the first folder, specifically the A-Train one, the superhero exploded in rage:

"Ashley! Get out!" She immediately dropped the folder in place and hurried out in her heels, unable to run in them. "All of you! Get out of here."

Everyone got up from their chairs, even you, and filed out through the front door, leaving the folders on the table. Sister Sage hesitated, thinking she might be an exception, but when his scowl deepened, she understood she should leave too.

With the room empty, Captain Patria took a few minutes to admire the view from the tower. He enjoyed staring at it sometimes, even when bored.

"Bunch of idiots," he muttered to himself, shaking his head in denial, indignant. If he had to spend one more minute with these morons, he would have a heart attack, even though that was technically impossible for him.

He threw his cape back as he turned to leave, looking down and not focusing on anything in particular. But his eyes caught something different from the other folders. It was obviously yours, with a huge drawing covering the text and images printed on it.

That was the first time he actually saw something you had scribbled. And damn, it was perfect. It was a drawing of everyone in the room, with him in the center looking angry. Just as he was. His ego flared up as he noticed that his figure was more detailed than the others'. You must have started drawing him first, hence had more time to detail him. The idea of you making him the main focus of this particular drawing made his pupils dilate. He used his super hearing to check if anyone else was around and secretly took that sheet for himself.

The next time he saw you drawing in the Seven's room, he couldn't help but wonder if you were drawing him again. As soon as he noticed you sneakily reaching for a pen that belonged to Ashley, he looked in your direction. The noise that used to annoy him now sparked curiosity. And after staring at you for so long, it didn't take long for you to look back at him too. The blond thought you would be embarrassed, like most people, but you just grinned as if you were used to being caught looking. And indeed, you were.

You began drawing Homelander more frequently when you realized he never caught you watching him. It was easier and avoided awkward situations with other people. After two whole weeks of drawing him continuously while taking advantage of this freedom, you felt capable of drawing his face without even needing to see a photo, having memorized most of his distinctive features.

Well, it seems he's finally noticed you.

Sometimes, when alone in your room, you took out your sketchbook and started practicing the memory of his facial features you had developed. Just like every other time, you became absorbed in the drawing, focusing only on the voices around you to understand what was being said. This was also a way to keep yourself engaged during conversations, so you wouldn't get restless from being still while being a mere spectator of everything. After all, you never participated much or gave opinions; Deep already did enough for two.

The meeting had already ended, but you stayed in your chair, even as everyone else left, to finish just a part of the hair. You thought no one would mind, and then you would leave as usual, but a voice caught you by surprise:

"Can I take a look?" Homelander asked, for the first time, using a gentle voice beside you. His expression was enigmatic, somewhat relaxed, and shy at the same time.

You turned the stack of post-it notes, also taken from Ashley, for him to see what you had drawn, fearing what he would say. You weren't ashamed of drawing people, much less of them catching you doing it. You feared because he found your habit annoying.

He observed the drawing, seeing his posture from the side, upright and imposing. He wondered if you drew him exactly as you saw him, or if it was just another caricature of reality, like those Photoshopped pictures spread around. He looked much better than he imagined, though he had that superiority complex that made him see himself as a god.

For a moment, he was offended to see his image stamped on such despicable things as scraps of paper and these damn post-it notes. Your fingerprints were also visible stains, and the paper was slightly wrinkled from his sweat. He had noticed that sometimes you drew calmly, as if you had all the time in the world, and other times it was like drawing on a boat in a storm. Today seemed to be the latter situation.

"Do you like drawing me?" He glanced at you.

"I do," you shrugged. That was the simplest and most truthful answer you could give. "Sorry, I won't do it anymore," you said, thinking he was bothered by it.

"Why?" He ignored your apology.

"You're drawable... I guess," you stared at the table, not understanding the flow of the conversation.

"And what the fuck does that mean?" He asked in a louder voice, turning to face you, obviously confused. "Is this some artistic shit?"

"It's just that you're easy to draw because you have unusual characteristics. It's a good thing," was your answer, and it inflated his chest with narcissistic pride. Unusual, that's what you said, but to him, it was like being called extraordinary.

"Next time you draw me, try using a sketchbook," he said sternly, pretending to reject your work, but deep down, he just didn't want to show that he really liked it. That statement was his way of encouraging you to continue, but at the same time, it was so ironic, considering he got mad at you just when you were drawing him in the sketchtebook that day.

"But you asked me to get rid of mine," you said simply, your voice dwindling with each word of the sentence, not wanting him to find out that you had never thrown it away.

"I'll get you a new one," he said dismissively, taking the entire stack of post-it notes with him, including the drawing, as if you wouldn't notice.

[bi-writes]

you're cooking when you notice him. you finish dicing the onion on your cutting board, and when you look up, you smile when you see the looming shadow that takes up the space behind your curtains. (mercenary!ghost x fem!reader, 18+)

"hi, spooky skeleton," you giggle, turning around and dropping the onions into the pot. the sizzle warms your apartment, and when you turn back around, you smile wider when he's come out from the shadows, closer, already on the other side of the kitchen island and only a few steps away from you.

he's geared up. vest thick and heavy strapped to his chest, the hood of his rain jacket over his head to further conceal the skull mask he wears. he stands tall, back straight and eyes narrowed, what little you could see of them. you put the cutting board down, twirling the kitchen knife you hold in your hand before holding it out in front of you, putting the sharp tip against the center of his chest.

"slow down there, big boy," you coo. "did you do as i told you?"

he snarls a bit before fishing a phone out of his pocket, tossing it onto the counter. you look down at it, watching the video playing. it's your mark, slobbering in tears, begging for his life. he pleads, holds up his hands, shakes his head, says that he's sorry in every language he knows until there's a satisfying hole in the middle of his forehead, a lone trail of blood making its way down his face. you think it looks like he's crying tears of blood. it's oddly poetic.

you look back at him, meeting his dark eyes, and you draw your hand back, setting the knife down. with your other hand, you drag your knuckles down the side of his masked face, puckering your lips and blowing him a dramatic kiss.

"such a proficient one, you are," you murmur. "what is that? third one this week?"

"want m'prize," he growls, and you step closer hooking your fingers into the collar of his vest and blowing him another kiss. then, you reach for the kitchen drawer next to you and pull it, taking out a thick envelope and handing it to him.

"you're making them very happy, ghost," you tap the plastic of the skull, giggling. "they like you a lot. got time for another?"

he clicks his tongue, tilting his head to the side, and you squeak when he reaches down and grips both sides of your ass with two big hands. you laugh, but it turns into a breathless moan when those hands slip under your skirt and tug at the lace of your panties.

"i want the real prize, want wot 'm owed," ghost says lowly. you stand up on your toes, pressing your mouth to his over his mask. you let your hands fall, pressing on the backs of his hands, encouraging him to slip a few fingers under the lace and prod the entrance of your sticky cunt.

"you want it, baby?" you whimper. "do you?"

"yes--" you feel him bite from under the mask, and you stick your tongue out, licking over the line of his bottom lip, your pride swelling when you feel how shaky he breathes as you tease him. "give it t' me--"

there it is. now i have you.

"well..." you press your pelvis to his, rocking against his fingers, and he hisses when he feels the way you soak the fabric of his gloves. he wants to eat it, he wants to have you, he wants what he was promised. "gotta do somethin' for me first, ghost. gotta job for you. can't pay you for it though, not the way you like."

you think you see him smile under the mask, the corners of his eyes crinkling as if he likes what he hears. as if he knows what it is you will give him if he just does as you say.

"y'know wot it is tha' i want, don't you, swee'eart?"

yes, you think, and you respond by giving the front of his mask a kiss, one you think he reciprocates by the way he cradles the back of your head.

i know what it is that you want because...i want it, too.

[melliemell]

Pairing: Chuuya x f!reader

Contents: NSFW, penetration (reader receiving), Chuuya-levels of cursing, don't say he's cute, he'd get grumpy about it and fuck you stupid to prove a point, incessant flirting, Approx 1.1k words

It really started off as a joke.

An off-hand comment you made. You didn’t intend on paying more attention to it… were it not Chuuya’s reaction; an eyebrow raised as he leaned into his seat, that god-awful grin of his spreading wide as he regarded you.

Your date was going well, all things considered. A nice restaurant, your own secluded corner to settle in at and relax, a gift of overly extravagant flowers–always the charmer that one, Chuuya even pulled the chair for you–it was perfect. A sense of being with the right person doing the right thing.

Finally having the time for each other.

And doing normal, romantic things was part of this evening’s plans.

Except it was Chuuya you were speaking of. Nothing that simple ever happened around him.

“So you think I’m boring?” he asked, playing the amused card to the tenth. There was none of his usual bark, only the teasing tone you had grown accustomed to.

“Misleading–” you began, leaning into his personal space to poke at his chest. “–is what I was referring to. This grand, scary mafioso… that also happens to spend half an hour choosing which shoes go best with which vest. You portray the part of barking dog really well but you’re actually a cutie.” And you winked, just to nail it down.

Chuuya clicked his tongue. He didn’t like it when you babied him, you knew that. But his reactions were too good to miss out on. 

“Hah? That the type of man ya take me for?” he grumbled, not quite masking the slight annoyance this time around. 

You hummed, trailing a finger down his chest. “Devastated, are you?”

Chuuya grabbed your hand, raising it to plant a kiss to your wrist. His eyes didn’t leave yours as he said, “Damn right I am. Calling me ‘cute’ out here like ya don’t know any better.”

You cocked your head, eyebrow raised in feigned confusion. “What? You gonna do something about it?” You knew perfectly well where this was going.

A whispered “fuck” left Chuuya’s lips, audible only for you to hear. And it was then it got settled– you weren’t suited for the romance part. Not the innocent, charming one at least. You needed a bit… more.

It became even clearer when less than an hour later your hands fumbled for your keys, Chuuya glued to your back as he trailed sloppy, open-mouthed kisses down your neck. 

“I really hoped we’d be doing the ‘sweet date and movie night combo’, you know? Have you snuggled up against me and all,” you said, wasting no time as you both stumbled through the entrance, your hands finding their way around Chuuya’s neck. He kicked the door shut before trapping you against the nearby wall, lips seeking yours. 

“I’ll snuggle you up all night long, doll.” You could taste the wine on his tongue, the hurried way he kissed you leaving no space for distraction. Demanding your full attention was a staple mark of Chuuya’s, you couldn’t deny it.

“You seem preoccupied with other things, though,” you said, unbuttoning his vest.

Chuuya’s hands were already on your bra, unclasping the hooks before you felt a hand cup your breast, the barely-there caress of a thumb over your stiffened bud sending tingles of pleasure down your body in seconds. “How about you just ask me nicely, hm?” 

“Ah, you want me to beg now?” you asked, a finger trailing the outline of his lower lip, and you savored the way his breath trembled. Teasing like this would be wise only for now, you doubted he’d let you off the hook as easily soon enough. Not when you could feel his cock through the fabric of his trousers, hard against your thigh and probably leaking. 

Chuuya kissed your finger before biting it lightly, and you chuckled. “Don’t wanna leave me guessing what you want, do you? I might end up biting somewhere ya don’t want me to, sweets.”

You arched your hips forward, drawing a low groan from Chuuya. “We’ll have to wait and see then. I’m very open-minded, you know.”

“And stubborn,” Chuuya grinned, rocking against you. “Fu-uck, this feels good. I forgot what my point was, damnit.”

“Ha, loser.”

“Fuck off, bigger loser.” 

You were about to make fun of him again, seeing as he lost brain cells faster the hornier he got, but… you felt him pinch your nipple this time, rolling your bud between his skilled fingers as he dived for your neck again. The throbbing between your legs distracted you, intensifying even more as Chuuya’s tongue trailed along your pulse, leaving damp skin to prickle against the cold air. 

Rough wall against your back turned into soft sheets in a flurry of fragmented moments. Only Chuuya’s presence remained firm beside you. He settled between your legs, hands hurriedly discarding any remaining garments as fast as you both could, all the while without letting go of each other. Not once.

You barely had your underwear down before Chuuya was rocking forward, cock settling between your pussy lips as he rubbed against you. Your wetness spread over his tip only to draw a low moan from his parted lips. 

“Impatient,” you said, hooking your ankles around his hips. 

“You wanted the real deal tonight,” he grinned at you. “Going around calling me boring and cute all evening. Like hell I’ll leave it at that.”

“You gonna change my mind, fancy hat boy?”

“Ooh, you betcha,” Chuuya said, and slowly sank into the heat of your throbbing cunt.

You knew Chuuya was a talker; never shutting up even when you really would rather just hold him, hand clasped over his mouth as he fucked you in peace.

But not this time. It was quick and rough, him bottoming out in you with every slick thrust. He barely gave you time to take your bearings, his hand finding your clit only to start rubbing mercilessly in sync with his movements. Trying to stifle your moans was proving near impossible. Only Chuuya’s lips served as help, swallowing your every sound as he kissed you stupid. 

“Oh, fuck…” you panted, pulling away. 

“Nuh-huh, where ya going, sweets?” Chuuya ground his hips against yours, drawing another pained moan from your throat. “I’m doing you good, yeah? Come on, keep up with me.”

Your nails dug into his back even as your body trembled all over. “A bit too good there.”

“Yeah?” Chuuya trailed kisses down your jawline, his pace slowed. For now, at least. “Wanna ask me nicely about it?” he whispered.

Fuck. “I’m in for it, aren’t I?” you asked, knowing full well the answer. 

Chuuya only grinned.

Yeah, it was about to be a long night.

[darlingkikki]

wait need a 141 scare actors x reader blurb

Synopsis: A horror night worker sees you and gives his men a task; make sure you leave smiling. Pairing: TF141!Scare Actors x GN!Reader (first meeting vibes so nothing too crazy but Kyle’s too great for me to keep it lowkey lmao) Word Count: 3.6k (I think) Warnings: negative self-talk, reader is very lonely (reasons up to you) a/n: Let me know if I missed any warnings or did not keep it gender-neutral and I will fix it <3. You gave me the green light and you will pay dearly for how badly I wish I were a better writer. Happy Halloween!

A man with an interesting mustache and beard combo greets you at the gates.

“Admission for one?” He asks, glancing over your shoulder to check that your friends or partner aren’t lagging. 

The question pokes at the part inside of you that recoils into your shell when others notice how alone you are, the forever raw wound that no positive affirmations or small bouts with talk therapists have been able to scab over. It’s constantly bleeding, oozing thoughts in voices you both recognize and don’t. They cover a wide variety, though they lead back to you, a homing missile locked onto your actual self and not the warped beyond-recognition version they are about. The version no one who knows you sees. You’ve been told you’re actually not that bad; you’re still stuck on why they used the word actually in something meant to be complimentary. 

One therapist (the one you felt could help, but they decided a job in another state was more important than your problems), said that the best way to combat these thoughts is to fight them, think louder and harder in the opposite direction, even if you think you’re lying to yourself. So, that’s what you did. You psyched yourself up in the mirror for the better part of an hour as you pulled on your costume and repeated to yourself that this was normal. 

Why should an infamous horror night be such a big deal? People go out alone all the time.

“Yep,” you say with a forced smile. It’s enough, but it doesn’t feel like enough. So, you over-explain because your mouth never knows when to quit. “I love going to these alone, really puts me in the Halloween mood.” 

The man tilts his head to one side, observing that slight pinch of your expression. Your voice is light and measured. And that smile. You’re performing. Everything about this is fake, everything about you is fake, a mask worn when the switch in your brain flips to ‘social interaction mode’, so strangers think of you in a certain way. You want him to know you’re not the least bit insecure about being alone. Not at all. The distant sounds of screaming and laughter inside the park don’t carve into you like an ice pick.

You’re not fooling him—no one can, as far as he’s concerned. He’s posted at the entrance for a reason, not because he’s grown too old to run around and scare people with grotesque makeup or prop weapons. He’s an assessor through and through. One brief conversation and he knows whether someone will be a good sport or one of those rude assholes that think it’s cool to scream back at the actors or posturing snobs who shit all over their efforts. You may be lying to him and yourself, but you won’t be a problem. 

Something about you reminds him of someone. He draws the comparison only after you school your smile to a blank expression. You have smile lines around your mouth, evidence that the muscles aren’t under-used, he just wonders how many are genuine. 

You’re still staring at him as he extends his hand towards you, palm up. 

“Give it here,” he orders and gestures towards your own, which has been clutching the fabric of your costume as if you think it’s trying to escape.

You stretch out your fingers, persuading them to relax and hold out your clammy hand so he can press a stamp down on the back of it. The design glows a bright lavender when light catches it at a certain angle, indecipherable enough that you can’t figure out exactly what it says or depicts. You’re about to pull away when he stamps you again. You don’t ask why, assuming it’s because the first was too light or smudged. With a gentle parting squeeze, your hand is your own again. You start towards the exit as he’s stuffing the stamp back into his pocket. 

He speaks again just as you’re about to be past his shoulder. His voice is soft but gritty like a smoker's. “You have yourself a hell of a night, alright?” 

“Yes, Sir.” You curse yourself for your unnecessary use of the title as you make it past the entrance to the park. You don’t know why you called him that, but it makes more sense than it should. He has a natural ability to garner respect, you felt it even in that brief interaction. He chuckles, rough and deep, as he pulls his phone out to make do with his mission.

You take a break from screaming and scurrying away from zombies and slashers to do something fun.

And what’s more fun than blowing too much money on playing carnival games until you win one of the large plushies? It seems easy enough after the woman running the stand explains the game to you—until you’ve sunk twenty bucks into it and only manage one ring on a bottle. The others have bounced off and landed on the ground. 

The stares of the wide-eyed plushies feel less like they’re cheering you on and more like they’re mocking you. Are you seriously playing a child’s game alone? And losing? Why? So you can win a dumb stuffed animal? You’ll leave here the same way you came and you deserve it.

There’s no way one is even worth the amount that you've lost so far. You’re ready to throw in the towel when you sense something behind you. 

It shouldn’t be something that spells danger, not with the woman who has been pocketing your money standing just a few feet away, but your body seems to ignore that fact and react as though Michael Myers himself is lurking behind you. 

You whirl around and your bones turn to ice when you find yourself face-to-chest with a tall, imposing figure. You’re too aghast to scream, mind-body connection severed, you’re left gaping up at the man like a fish out of water. He can’t have been there long, but you’ve been so caught up in the game that he could’ve been standing behind you the entire time. 

The man does not react to your fear, just meets you with an uncomfortably realistic-looking skull mask and unblinking eyes. His posture is rigid, like one of the decorative scarecrows you saw near the entrance. His eyes rake over your body in a way that reminds you of an x-ray, lingering on something for a prolonged moment. Whatever he sees, it pushes him to speak to you. 

“This one’s fuckin’ awful.”

His eyes crinkle at the corners, dark pools glinting with humor, but you’re too busy trying to calm your racing heart to respond. He’s used to people being afraid of him beyond the context of working at events like this, so he steps around you and picks up the pile of rings on the table. You press a trembling hand to your chest and take deep, pacifying breaths.

In and out, you tell yourself, over and over, until your heartbeat no longer resembles the sound of galloping horses. In the time it takes you to collect your bearings, he's thrown each ring over the tops of three bottles effortlessly. Anxiety dissolves into confusion, even more when he turns to you and then jerks his head towards the higher shelves, ignoring the slightly annoyed woman behind the counter. She was probably hoping you’d spend another couple of dollars.

“Oh.” Confusion melts into realization. Your lips curl upwards, but something still doesn’t feel right. He’d broken character to help you for seemingly no reason. “Thank you, but you didn’t need to-” 

“Already did. Pick the one you want.”

His insistence is sharp but harmless equally. The prize is yours, so no use in trying to out-polite the man. 

When you look back at the shelves, it’s with a radiant smile. Even though you hadn’t exactly won one yourself, the kindness of the skull-faced stranger was enough to silence your worries. The perfect one picks you before you pick it. There’s a lone skeleton with cutesy eyes and a squishy body surrounded by a sea of adorable plush pumpkins and black cats. You point to it and the woman behind the counter hands it over with a half-hearted “congrats”. The stranger in the mask smiles at your choice, though you’re not looking at him. When you’re done giving testing squeezes to the plushie, you turn to the man to thank him again, but he’s nowhere to be found, gone just as quietly as he’d appeared.

Sometime later, plushie in your arms, you find the line for a walk through the cornfield. It winds around plastic dividers like a snake, but what else can you expect from the major attraction when the night is in full swing? You join the line, picking at the white tag sewn into the leg of your plushie. There’s a couple in front of you dressed in matching costumes; they decide the wait is the perfect time to get reacquainted with one another. A worker ropes off the divider so no one else can enter and the distracted group of friends in front of the couple doesn’t notice or care about them, so no one else accompanies you in the awkwardness of listening to smacking lips and affectionate hums. Bitterness swells in your throat like you’ve swallowed a pill without water. Stroking the soft underbelly of your prize helps—somewhat. You think about the sweet, albeit intense, scare actor until the giggling couple with now identically smudged makeup walks hand-in-hand through the entrance.

There is little to no light inside of the field. The brightest thing is the moonlight, which makes walking down the dirt path between corn stalks an even more eerie experience. It’s almost peaceful, ignoring the creepy props lining the paths and the random actors hidden in the stalks itching to grab at your ankles or jump out at you (three have accosted you so far). And soon to be a fourth as corn rustles in front of you, leaf blades bouncing off each other harsher than when skimmed by the wind. 

Another couple of steps and a man in a bloody burlap sack-like mask pops out with outstretched arms and a loud “boo” to top it all off—you yelp, nearly dropping your plushie on the ground.

The man responds with a laugh, infectious and warm, before tugging off his mask. Odd, you think, because none of the other actors had prolonged the interaction after leaving you short of breath. Well, none but one.

“I’m Kyle,” he introduces himself, flashing a disarming smile. It’s dazzling, you almost miss him holding out a hand. “Sorry for…you know, just doin’ my job and all.”

Without the disturbing mask, he’s quite pretty, the kind that makes you immediately comply and give him both your right hand and name. Your stamps glow under the moonlight, and he sighs in relief, shoulders relaxing. He thought you’d have left by now.

“Nice meeting you,” he says, bowing at the waist. 

He’s prince-levels of charming, much too relaxed for the environment. His costume is more normal than scary without the mask, just a deep red tunic and dark-wash jeans. You can make out small bits of hay stuck to his hair and clothes. It makes for a dorky and cute visual. 

He does not slink back into the corn as the actors before him did. Instead, he straightens, making a face at the stuffed animal you’re holding.

“You win that for yourself?” 

“Tried to, but one of the actors ended up helping me, actually.”

He quirks a brow. “You pick it because it looks like him?”

You don’t know how he guessed so quickly, but you nod, sheepish that he’d caught you clutching it so protectively, like you were holding a dear gift from a loved one. 

It’s just a stupid toy a stranger won for you. Won for you. You hold it tighter.

Kyle shakes his head, muttering “smart bastard” under his breath and then his eyes are on you. He has that deep shade of brown that’s impossible to say no to.

“The way to the exit can be a bit borin’,” he explains, his lips pursed in thought. “You alright with some company?”

And now you’re even more confused. Was he even allowed to? And why would he care if you’re bored?

“Will you get in trouble?” You ask, glancing towards the quiet path, trying to gauge how long you’d be pulling him away from his job. From what he’s saying, you can assume the exit is near, but you can’t see it from here.

“Nah, you were the last one coming through, so I’m free to roam,” he shrugs, stepping out of your way so you can walk side-by-side.

You soon discover Kyle is even more of a gem than you’d initially realized. He's more than just a beautiful person to look at, he’s funny, and more friendly with you than strangers ought to be. He asks about you. You don’t know what to say at points, but he doesn’t seem to mind. When your voice wavers or your tongue fumbles, he’s patient. He’s genuinely interested, actually listening, and those pools of brown are as distracting as you thought because soon you’re walking underneath the cobweb-decorated archway signaling the end of the walk.

Your heart clenches. You’re not ready for your night to be over. You’re not prepared for your time with Kyle to be over, to face that tonight has been one of the few times you’ve been the target of considerate treatment and could very well be the only time.

You miss the reflected disappointment in his features because a harsh sound cuts through the air, similar to the rev of a car engine. Then it happens again, just as cacophonic followed by maniacal laughter, and a large man barrels through the corn so quickly you scream and nearly fall over into Kyle’s arms. 

“Fuckin’ hell ‘Tavish, you nearly killed my new friend here,” Kyle laughs, patting you on the back. Reassurance. You’re in no danger. 

The chainsaw wielder lets the act go rather quickly, lowering it to the ground and regarding you with a mischievous grin. 

“Just doin’ my job,”—the man waves off the accusation—“Not my fault Price chose a screamer.”

You squint at the man who’d nearly given you a heart attack. Price chose you? Who’s Price? Kyle claps the man on the back of the head. They interact as old friends, brothers. 

“Sorry,” Kyle turns to you, apologetic. “Should’ve warned you about the main event. Got a bit distracted.”

In fairness, you were too. You don’t mention that it was because of his eyes..

“Apology accepted,” you say, “Though your friend is on thin ice.”

“Me?” The man in question scoffs like you’ve accused him of a grave sin. His lips press together to keep his laughter at bay, though he’s got about as much tact as the hair on his head, which is shaved on both sides, leaving a strip of hair down the middle. He’s cocky, you can sense that. Cocky people are to you what salt is to a snail, though Kyle doesn’t seem the type to surround himself with the bad kind, so you try not to curl in on yourself.

“Not jus’ his friend,” he says, sending you a wink, “I’m John, Johnny if yer feelin’ brave.”

Kyle rolls his eyes and nudges you with his shoulder to get you walking towards the park exit, a straight shot from the cornfield. “Come on, we don’t need to take this.” 

“You scared me too,” you remind him as Johnny takes up the space on your left side, “Don’t think I forgot about that.”

He snorts, “Touche.”

“A screamer an’ not afraid to knock you down a peg,” Johnny notes, “I like ‘em already.” He hasn’t stopped staring at the side of your face. You wipe your hand across your cheek in case something is on it. 

The walk through the park is quiet, save for Johnny and Kyle throwing friendly jabs at one another. Most people have already left; the last few actors send looks in your direction and carnival game runners are shutting off their lights and closing down for the night.

“You have fun tonight?” Johnny asks you once the parking lot comes into view. Only a handful of clusters of cars remained in contrast to when you’d arrived.

The most fun you’ve had in a while. You’ve grown used to that heavy chunk of loneliness sitting in your chest like a rock. You drag it around behind you, a life sentence. Let it tether to your emotions and bog them down, anchoring your feet in some instances and letting the ground swallow you whole in others. You’re going home with a small part carved out. A crevice where something less bitter and more sweet can wedge itself in and find a home, spreading far and wide if you’re lucky.

The two exchange toothy grins when you respond positively, a cheerful smile cracking your face open for them to see. The look withholds a meaning that you aren’t privy to. Price was right, as always. A special someone deserved more smiles tonight, and they’d accomplished their mission.

“Found you any earlier an’ I would’ve won you one of those too,”—Johnny gestures to your plushie—“Ah’ve got an arm on me, a mean one when it comes to the bottle toss.”

Kyle and you roll your eyes. You assume the people in his life have grown quite comfortable doing so. Your initial descriptor of cocky was accurate, but he’s endearingly cocky in a way that doesn’t put you off too much. 

“Watch it, the big guy will take your head off,” Kyle warns.

“He’s not even here. I can say wha’ I want.”

“He’s right behind you.”

“Nah, he’s—” Johnny spins around and gasps, similar to how you’d reacted earlier, though he is a bit more dramatic. “Steamin’ Jesus, where’d you come from?”

You turn as well, hoping it’s who you’re thinking, and it is. The man who’d won you the plushie you’re holding.

He looks at you in the same way as before, though his imposing figure seems more relaxed than it had been. You presume these men are all friends. They seem comfortable enough around each other to be.

“Price wants to see us,” he says, his deep voice rolling from his chest the way water does over the smoothed rock on the bank of a river. You can hear it much clearer now that your heartbeat isn’t thrumming in your ears. 

“Can it wait?” Kyle glances towards you. “Wanted to make sure they made it out alright.”

Another chip at that loneliness, but you don’t want to jeopardize anything with him and Price—who you assume is his boss—even if you’d prefer he continues lessening the weight holding you down beneath your rib cage.

“You’ve done enough, Kyle,” you say, pointing behind you with your free hand, “I can see my car from here, anyway. I’ll be fine.”

“We cannae let ‘em go without makin’ sure, Simon,” Johnny insists, echoing Kyle’s sentiment and steamrolling over your assurance. 

Simon, finally a name for the face, or at least the parts of it you can see. Kyle and Johnny had shed their costumes, yet he wears his like a second skin. His stiff demeanor from earlier seems more of a costume than anything he’s wearing. 

Simon glances over your shoulder to where you’d pointed, dark eyes impossible to read. Johnny turns up the dial on his charm. At least that’s what you think he’s doing when he gives Simon a wide-eyed, puppy-like expression, pressing his palms together in front of his face and tipping his head forward. The picture would be complete if he sunk onto his knees with a bible in his hands.

He has the energy of the youngest son in the family. The visual brings a laugh tumbling from your lips and Simon relents, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“Go on then, we’ll watch from here.”

So you do, waving at the group, who murmur their goodbyes, and then walking to your car. 

You walk slower than you need to, relishing in the experience of people wanting to ensure you made it anywhere safe. It’s a luxury. You strive for it like people dream about vacationing or owning a house. Unfortunately, time stands still for no one.

Chancing a look at the group of men as you climb into the driver’s seat, you find six pairs of eyes. Kyle smiles broadly, you get another wink and smirk from Johnny, and Simon blinks at you from behind his mask. You barely know them and yet their reactions are all so distinctly them. You beam, holding up the plush skeleton and waving one last time like an Olympic athlete holding up their medals before resting it on the passenger's seat.

Alone again, you push your key into the ignition and your car comes to life. The dashboard bathes everything in a golden glow. Come morning, when you’re bathed in a similar hue by the rising sun, you’ll think about this night. You’ll think about them, each of them, and you’ll wonder. Hugging your prize from the night, you will implant the memory into the grooves of your brain, where it can sit safe and snug, just as looked after as you’d been. You’ll wonder if any of them will end up in your life again, and hope the answer to that question is ‘yes’.

[satonomi]

ummmmmm excuse me, my dearest fae, you can’t just say this and then not expand???

bounty hunter satoru?? do you think he has a dirty little space ship that desperately needs maintenance and he constantly brings back aliens from trips just so he can play around with them, exploring their bodies till they’re trembling and whining…………………………………

imagine in a galaxy far, far away, there’s a place where aliens and humans co-exist. now, about most of the population of aliens appear pretty humanoid, just very colorful skin and hair (pink, purple, green, blue, etc.)

the setting is very much like that of guardians of the galaxy, and gojo satoru is the most notorious bounty hunter there is. i imagine him (i’ll try to post a drawing soon) with a lot of cyber tech. his whole outfit would be black and he uses two guns, one with blue led lights and the other red (trying to get y’all to envision.) he’d also have his signature blindfold but instead, it comes in the form of cyber tech mask glasses that can dematerialize by pressing a button on the side (kinda like peter quill’s.)

he rarely ever misses when he shoots and he always catches the perps (nah, i’d win space edition.) and satoru is very serious abt his job (ik shocking but he’s gotta make that bag somehow and being a bounty hunter pays really well.) he’s very confident to say that nothing is able to distract or deter him from getting it done. but unfortunately for him, he has only one weakness. and that was alien girl puthayy 😛

see, the problem was, aliens and humans can not reproduce with one another. it wasn’t impossible, it was just against the rules. and by that definition, it also meant that it was illegal to have sex with one another. but let’s be fr, it’s going to happen whether it’s outlawed or not.

the first time satoru’s fucked an alien woman, it was at a strip club. as a man, he was curious to what it’d feel like to fuck one. and unfortunately for him, it was the best he’s ever had. it was his guilty pleasure, the one thing no-one could know about or else, it’d risk his job. but it was just too good. and where he used to jerk his cock off to human girls on his ship, now he does it thinking about alien girls. it always has him coming fast, and sometimes, just the thought can have him busting a nut in his pants, completely untouched.

he’s never had mind-blowing sex like that before in his life. the man is already a sex fanatic and craves it all the time (it helps him blow off steam), but he can’t cum when fucking regular human women anymore ;( it’s cause aliens were far more sensitive than humans, their senses advanced with the ability to feel more. and there was no feeling on earth (pun intended) like rutting into a warm cunt that was eager to suck him in, strangling his cock cuz some alien chick was horny out of her mind, pussy practically drooling all over him.

it’d have to be a secret though. and luckily for satoru, no one suspects someone like him, who’s job was to hunt down rogue aliens, to love sloppy extraterrestrial pussy.

satoru’s ship is made from the same advanced tech as his suit. it gets dirty from his constant partying and hook-ups. so, when he needs to get it checked cuz some huge beefy alien dude breaks his console during one of his ragers, he doesn’t bring it to the usual repair shop everyone goes to for their space ships. oh no no, he goes to one run by the other species.

there were a lot of hot ladies working there (because sexism doesn’t exist amongst aliens like at least they doing sumn right unlike us 😒) so, a lot of the times, his ship doesn’t end up fixed at the end.

he… likes to stay and watch them with dark, hooded eyes as they prance around his ship, eager to do their job. every once in a while, he’ll put a hand on their hip, letting it linger just long enough before pulling away when he comes over to “check on the progress.” the touch isn’t uninvited, he knows from the sultry gazes and flirty touches that are given in turn that they’re very much into him too.

it’s not long before he has them bent over the console, thrusting into the warm gooeyness of their sticky hole as they mewl and whine for more of his fat cock while he pinches their sensitive nipples ‘till they squirm.

they’re loud, and he loves it. it feeds his ego to know how hungry they are for him, for his cock. aliens were known for multiplying by the dozen, he assumes it has something to do with that. satoru’s thought about it before, breeding an alien. it was just a fantasy though, a fantasy that has him spilling his cum inside them on the spot, their needy whimpers begging him to.

that was his routine, catching criminals and fucking alien girl pussy on the side. and when his next mission entails finding some lady who stole some priceless piece of tech that could’ve sold for a lot, he was on board to find you right away (and that had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that you were smoking hot.)

it was easy for him to track you, he was the best at this job after all. you try to flee but he manhandles you against the wall, trapping you with your wrists pinned behind you, his chest up against your back. his warm breath hits your neck, panting from chasing you down. satoru’s eyes are dilated, but you’re unable to see with your cheek pressed against the cool metal in front of you.

this wasn’t what you had expected, you were caught so easily! it was a bad idea from the start, but it was either take a leap of faith and end up rich or be broke forever.

the pleas instantly leave your lips, begging to be let go. you didn’t want to go to prison. you were young and had so much to live for! (the two cents in your back pocket 😓) satoru listened, his cerulean eyes twinkling with amusement and poorly concealed arousal as you went on, swearing how you’d never do it again, that he could take back what you stole and forget it ever happened. he contemplated for a moment, choosing his cards carefully, before he’s leaning in next to your ear to whisper, “no can do, sweetheart.”

you shiver, and the atmosphere seems to change around you suddenly at the shift in his tone. a feeling you were all too familiar with stirs in your stomach, your body simply a slave to pleasure (curse your biology!) and the way he had spoken to you just then had you wet in a matter of seconds.

you try to compromise, “i’ll do anything!” it flies out of your mouth before you can even think. and he smirks, like he had been waiting for that the entire time.

“anything?”

and that’s how you end up getting railed by the human man who was sent to capture you.

“‘s so fucking good— fuck!”, he’s slurring by your ear, like he was getting drunk off of pounding into you. the thrusts were desperate, as if he could never get enough of your insides. satoru could stay like this forever, watching his cock slide in and out, stretching you open with his girth. he clings onto you like he never wants to let go, your wrists free and resting on the metal in front of you, the warm puffs of your breath condensing on the cold alloy. strong pale arms covered in high-tech were wrapped tightly around your waist while his hips thrust into you with a hungered fervor.

you release a keen whine, senses overwhelmed by the pleasure. satoru craves to see and feel your puffy cunt enveloping his girth over and over. he was obsessed with the way an alien girl acted at her most natural state, unable to fight the desire to be bred like a feral animal, not a single thought in those dumb brains once you stick a cock in them.

the tip of his mushroom head hits that spot inside you that has you seeing stars and absolutely gushing around him. he gives you a low groan of approval when you clench, “jus’ like that pretty, jus’ like that—”

then he lets you go after blowing a load inside you, leaving you with shaky legs and a throbbing for more. and you totally don’t start thieving more often just so he can come find you and do it all over again.

[mncxbe]

Heyyy! I hope you are taking care of yourself and touching grass once per day! Don't want you to get isolated that much😔

I request a NSFW prompt 3! With our fav suicidal maniac! DAZAIIIII!!!😊😊😊😊😊😊

Take care girly! Pwease take care of yourself🥺🥺🥺

you're so sweet🥺🩷I did not only touch plenty of grass today, but also drank water and spent time with my besties (health queen fr). hope you're taking good care of yourself too♡

3– fingering you under the blanket during movie night with friends

The film Ranpo chose for the Ada's monthly movie night rolled in the background, but you had a hard time paying attention. I mean, how could you, when your boyfriend's hand was shoved down your panties, his skillful fingers toying with your clit.

You were snuggling Dazai on one side of the couch. The cushy blanket wrapped around your bodies at least provided the tiniest amount of privacy but despite how risky the whole situation was, Dazai wasn't planning to stop his ministrations too soon. Fuck, he was such a tease...

You were a blushing mess, rubbing your thighs together to release the tension between them. You were pretty sure you've never been wetter in your entire life– the heat provided by your bodies paired up with his incessant touches made your cunt a sopping mess, sticky slick coating his digits. Your fingers dug in Dazai's forearm as he gave your puffy clit a harsher flick, making you tremble in pleasure.

"What's wrong, bella, are you cold? Do you want me to bring an extra blanket?" asked your boyfriend in a casual tone but you could see the taunting smile etched on his lips from the corner of your eye.

The man really had some nerve– mocking your sorry state when he was the one who caused all of it. As you squeezed your thighs together Dazai slowly pried them back open with his thumb, using the side of his hand as leverage to keep your legs apart. He dragged his middle finger along your slit, slowly working his way up to your clit and drawing loose circles on it again.

You shifted your body closer to him, resting your head on his shoulder "Please, 'samu I can't–"

"I know you like it, sweetie, you're drenched. Plus, I know how much you love it when I touch you like this in public, you're such a dirty girl" he whispered against the shell of your ear, masking the brief interaction with a chaste kiss to your temple. His words made your pussy flutter and of course he didn't miss it.

"I want you to cum for me. Can you do that, pretty girl?" he cooed, pressing his ring and middle finger on your needy clit as you nodded eagerly, burying your face in the crook of his neck.

The moment you gave him the go he resumed circling your clit, occasionally rubbing it between his fingers. Each little touch pushed you closer to your high, but what did it for you were the downright obscene things he was whispering in your ear.

"There you go, baby. Can't wait to get home and eat this messy pussy out. I don't think you're gonna get much sleep tonight."

You were so damn grateful that Ranpo turned up the volume of the TV a while ago so no one could hear the choked moan that slipped past your lips when you came. Your hips jolted up and Dazai cupped your pussy, slowly rubbing your clit with his hand, helping you ride out your high and preventing you from squirming too much.

"Shh keep it down, bella. Don't want everyone else to find out what we just did, do you?"

You would've slapped the obnoxious grin off his face if you hadn't been so weak and fucked out– though you were ashamed to admit, this was probably one of the best orgasms of your life.

Your boyfriend carefully removed his hand from your panties and wiped the excess of slick on your inner thigh before wrapping his arm around your waist and snuggling closer to you. The innocent smile on his face was enough to calm your nerves. Yea, Dazai was an obnoxious bastard sometimes and his teasing never ended, but he was still the love of your life so you couldn't bring yourself to be mad at him.

[lunarw0rks]

can you write something about reader using their safe word for the first time with ghost?

getting surprised at how easily he changes from rough sex to sweet aftercare to make sure he's partner is okay

₊ °✦ ‧ ‧ ₊ ˚✧ safe-word // simon riley

warning(s): nsfw + sfw, established relationship, smut/fluff, shower sex, hurt/comfort, gn!reader word count: 1.1k ꒦꒷ MAIN MASTERLIST ꒷꒦ GHOST MASTERLIST ───have a request? ˗ˏˋ ASK BOX ˎˊ˗

You don't know why or when exactly the pleasure turned into pain, but you found yourself in a conflicted frenzy.

Your back pressed against the shower wall, legs wrapped tightly around his waist as Simon thrusted into you at a relentless pace. One of his hands remained glued to your waist, digging into your soft flesh with intensity. His other was behind your head, protecting it from hitting the tile every time you clashed against it with every plunge of his length.

He was usually so attentive, noticing every slight change in your demeanor even outside of intimacy. Sometimes, he's so concerned he'll mistake your moans of pleasure for refusal and stop completely, to your dismay.

However, Simon had yet to stop.

The shower head was too noisy, or perhaps he really lost that side of him whilst being so rough with you. Though, you had heavy doubts about the second hypothetical. Never would he intentionally harm you or continue on when you were so tense.

His touch wasn't comforting anymore, it was suffocating. Every groan into your ear, his thrusts becoming unwelcome by your stressed body.

In his defense, your gasps really could be misinterpreted. "Simon." It sounded like praise instead of a refusal — and your futile protest was drowned by the rain of the shower and bathroom fan. With every fleeting moment, you felt a rumble of discomfort build. Tears fell down your cheeks, spilling down his wet skin while you hid in the crook of his neck. Choked blubbers grew louder as you tried and failed to draw in proper breaths.

Then, came your saving grace. The safe word you had yet to use tonight, or ever with Simon. It was necessary, preferable over taking the unpleasant encounter and feeling horrible for not speaking up. And frankly, it would break Simon if you didn't voice your discomforts; he may never touch you again, and probably would feel as though he really was a cruel man. That man you spent so long convincing him he wasn't.

"Red." You blurted, feeling your lips tremble intensely.

At the speed of light, his ruts ceased. Nothing. Silence, except for the patter of the droplets around the two of you. From grunting to complete and utter silence — yet it was the loudest moment of your life.

Simon pulled back, dropping one of your legs but keeping the other secured around him for stability. Finally, he could get a look at your flushed and troubled expression. The unmistakable expression of distress; one he had only ever seen on you in other contexts. It chilled him to the core and made him feel like a barbarian for not noticing sooner. How long had you writhed? How long had he carried on like an idiot, mistaking your complaints for reciprocation?

"Did I hurt you? Are you hurt?" His series of questions were masked with deep breaths and a widened expression. Your silence made him withdraw from you completely, putting a supportive hand on your warm cheek. "Talk to me, love. Please."

You weren't mute from the pain, nor the fussing on his end. Merely the shock of how much his demeanor changed. From dominance to tenderness at the drop of the hat. Or more so, the utterance of a single word.

Quickly, you shook your head to answer his initial questions, snapping out of your stew. "No, Simon. It's not—" You stammered between reassuring touches, ones he refused to pay attention to until he was sure you were sound. "I just... It was too much, I'm sorry, Si."

Simon's face visibly cringed, hands roaming over your skin, grasping at your wrists with gentle nature. "Don't apologize. This is all on me, alright?" He replied in an alarmed slur, then your face had been pushed against his chest.

His broad chest, arms capable of snapping you in two, now cradling your body as if it was made of glass. Your palms slid up his back, returning that same tenderness to assure him of your safety. It wasn't pain because of his carelessness, nor was it the rough nature. He had done it before with no issue. Tonight's cards just weren't stacked right, bound to tumble from the start.

There was no blame to be had for either of you. Merely a hitch in the evening, and you wanted it treated as such. Though, you knew by now that convincing him of that would be a prolonged, tedious task.

Right now, all you had were reassurances that sounded pathetic amidst your trembles. "It's not your fault." You mumbled against his chest, anxieties put to ease at the caress of his calloused hand up and down the nape of your neck.

He quickly shushed you, pressing his lips to your drenched head of hair. A silent way of urging you to keep your mouth shut — but in his own blunt way.

In the following moments, he let his hands roam and massage the bits of flesh that took the brunt of his force. The indents on your hips, the patch on your shoulder blades irritated from clashing with the shower wall, all of it. The sizzling water was used to figuratively wash away his misjudgments, relaxing the muscles once over-exerted and sore.

Once he turned the knob to stop the water, he tied a towel around his waist, retrieving the fresh one he set out for you while the water was still heating up several minutes ago. Without once making eye contact, he unfolded the linen, then was running it along your dripping skin, drying every last bit to ensure you were comfortable before dressed.

With some silent convincing, you nodded, allowing him to step out and let you hold the towel around yourself. You weren't defenseless because you uttered a safe word, he knew that. But you weren't going to brush this off, either. No chance.

The drawer of your dresser scraped shut when you followed him into the bedroom, revealing your favorite pair of sweatpants. Next, one of his many black tees soon slipped over your fleshly cleaned body. You were no longer suffocated or plagued with unease, nor did you want the release you were craving moments ago. Your only desire was his presence, that safe feeling his existence gave you.

Before you settled on the bed, he cupped your cheeks, pressing his forehead against your own. "Tell me again." Simon pleaded with intense softness.

"I'm alright, Simon. Promise." A futile smile formed, clenching your eyes shut briefly with a defeated nod. You had repeated it a hundred times, it seemed. But you wouldn't take back or fib through any one of them. It was the truth— the reassurance he craved.

Softly, he scoffed at your cheesy proclamation. "Promise it, huh?"

"Promise it."

[kiame-sama]

Humans Are Extinct (Yandere!TWST x Fem!Reader) pt 8

(My laptop decided to keep working so I took advantage of the moment, here is Ortho. Yes, his left hand is covered because I hate how it turned out and I suck at drawing hands, used his typical pose in the game. I also hyper fixated on this chapter, hence why I got it done so fast. Don't expect me to be so prompt in the future on chapters.)

Warnings; yandere, yandere relationship, yandere temper, yandere behavior, romantic and platonic yanderes, multiple yanderes, monster men, fem reader, use of some Japanese words (nii-san), violence, blood, injury, fire, hysterical strength, magic, use of the title of King, weapon use and conversations, Selkie, Cervitaur, Shinigami, Faun, Satyr, Kelpie, Water Nymph, Magic Mirror, Unicorn,

~~~~~~~~

You sat in your potions class on the unusually high stool, Grim was seated next to you on his own stool and clearly not paying attention. Professor Divus was talking about the basics of potion-making and the importance it held to many in Twisted Wonderland. Honestly, you were just happy it was a class you could actually participate in.

It was as the lecture continued that you noticed something more than a little unusual. You had been sitting at the only empty cauldron since you showed up a little late to class due to having no idea where the class was. Though you asked Silver to show you to your classes- having learned from the prior day that you absolutely could not navigate the school just yet- he still got the lot of you lost in the twisting halls.

Luckily for you, Divus was quick to forgive your late arrival and simply told you to sit wherever there was an open seat. Naturally, you didn't want to sit among the other students that clearly took an interest in you, choosing instead to sit alone with Grim closer to the back of the class. Only, you two weren't alone anymore.

At some point during the lecture being given, someone had quietly moved seats and now sat across from you at the same large cauldron. They were unlike any other student you had met at the school, which certainly said something.

Sitting before you was what appeared to be a youthful boy with blue flaming hair. His skin was a pale white that almost looked grey and his eyes were a bright gold that shined in the gentle light of the potions classroom. He didn't seem to be entirely organic, as the black wings that jutted from his shoulders had exposed metal pieces in a shining white, blue lights between the feathers told you that the wings were almost entirely mechanical. In fact, a lot of this student seemed to be mechanical in some regard.

Covering the bottom half of his face was a full-mouth Oxygen mask that had several tubes running into it, feeding oxygen in and likely removing any carbon dioxide he exhaled. The tubes ran down the sides of his face and towards his back into the mechanical wings where the faint whir of machinery likely pumped breathable air into his mask. You could see that his right arm was fully mechanical and made of that same white metal, the joints covered in a skin-like black material that was clearly built to stretch and move with the arm. Though he didn't seem to be fully mechanical, there were clear augmentations to two of his limbs that indicated a good part of the limbs were added on after the fact. Over his eyes was a screen-like visor that scrolled several things you were unable to read as they scrolled by.

He seemed to be shorter than the others you had seen in the school and he wasn't obviously any of the species you had met prior. You would have assumed he was a Harpy due to the wings and metallic feathers, but feathers weren't present anywhere else on his body and he didn't have the same bird-like behavior Vil had presented you with. If you didn't know any better, you would even begin to believe they were a child-

"Hi. I'm Ortho Shroud. Nice to meet you, (Y/n)."

The voice that came from the unusual creature near you startled you somewhat. Stunned to hear what sounded like a pre-teen boy greet you quietly. He was clearly trying to avoid drawing attention from Divus and you were curious enough about this boy you didn't mind ignoring class for a bit to talk to him.

"Right, Nii-san said Humans like to introduce themselves before you use their names. Sorry, I'm just so excited to meet you. I've always wanted to meet a Human."

You slowly blinked at the student, now fully believing that he was a little boy and most certainly did not fit in among the older students. Maybe you were wrong as you first thought Lilia was younger than the other students as well before you learned he was a father.

"Nice to meet you too, Ortho. Um... Did you just want to say 'hi' or did you need something from me?"

"Need something? Nope. I just wanted to get to know you since Nii-san and I are going to be the ones guarding you next week."

This made a lot more sense now. Every class you had attended, very few students seemed to actually want to talk to you and instead wanted to gawk at you or whisper about you. The few students who did have the courage to talk to you were the few you already knew, but unfortunately Ace and Deuce were not in the same potions class. Naturally this boy had to be a Housewarden or Vice-Housewarden like Malleus and Lilia or someone close to them like Silver and Sebek.

"Okay. I'm not sure if class is the best time to have that talk though."

"Oh, it's fine. I'm very good at multitasking, so I'm listening to you and to class right now. The potion we're making today is super simple, so I can teach you how to make it. It's just a regular sleep potion."

He really wasn't giving you much of a choice but you figured it was because he was genuinely wanting to talk to you. Much like kids tended to do, he was trying to get you to talk to him and interact with him by being a little pushy even though he didn't need to be.

"Sure, let's talk."

This made the boy perk up and almost seem to rock in his seat excitedly. There was a kind of infectious happiness to him that was truly quite endearing despite his unusual appearance.

"Okay, so first off- because you probably can't tell- I'm a Shinigami. I do have several cybernetic parts but they're being upgraded and improved all the time by my Nii-san. He's a Shinigami too, and he won't ever say it, but he is really excited to meet you and won't stop talking about you-"

A sudden error message flashed on the screen visor he wore and he seemed to pout in response to this. The moment he noticed your confused look he returned his attention to you, pointing at his visor with a smile.

"That's just Nii-san. He's getting all embarrassed that I'm telling you these things. He made this for me, you know? This visor, my leg, my arm, and my wings. He's really smart and makes such cool stuff. I was hoping, since you're a Human, maybe you could come to Ignihyde sometime? I'm sure he'd like to hear about you and things where you come from. Maybe we could even play some videogames while we're there? I don't get to play games with others all that often since Idi-nii doesn't have anyone over, but he and I play games together. Maybe we could all play?"

You found yourself agreeing to the boy's request, as odd as it was and wondering just what the boy hoped of you. Clearly he was happy to talk to you and he must have been keen to make friends with you despite knowing so little about you. May as well make nice with those who would be guarding you seeing as you technically didn't get any say regardless in the situation.

~•§•~

Lunch finally rolled around and you were excited to sit with some familiar faces as you made your way into the cafeteria. Ortho had spent the entire morning with you and the two of you talked about almost everything, from what videogames they had in Twisted Wonderland to what species was the most abundant. The morning was generally a great crash-course kind of day to understand just what kind of world you found yourself in.

You were able to ask questions without feeling belittled by the cybernetic boy and he was happy to answer anything you asked him. He even showed you how to use the phone Crowley had gifted you that morning. It was similar to a smartphone from your world, but oddly different and Ortho explained that many devices ran off of magic or had some kind of magic element to them. Your phone was different from others because it didn't require magic to work like most phones did. Apaprently all of Ortho's cybernetic limbs were also a kind of technomancy that incorporated Ortho's own magic to keep running. You were actually vaguely excited to meet his older brother as it was clear he was the exact kind of guy you had been hoping to meet. Thanks to Ortho, you had a list on your phone of all the technology you were accustomed to but didn't have in Twisted Wonderland. Part of you hoped this Idia would be able to make half of the items you requested and if he thought they were useful, maybe he could patent them and use them but just give you the prototypes to keep. That heated blanket seemed even closer now.

Still, it was nice to have a break. Even if Ortho was a cheerful young man- and you learned he was only thirteen years old- it was still exhausting to chat with the social boy all the time. A smile pulled at your lips as you saw Ace and Deuce sitting together, Grim running ahead to dig in the various foods the boys had brought. Looking over their selection, you were glad you made yourself a sandwich that morning.

"Hey, Human."

"Hello again, (Y/n), how were your classes?"

You sat down across from the Goats, watching them shovel food into their mouths much in the way Goats of your world so happily snacked on everything in reach.

"It was alright. I met someone new today and he was happy to tell me a lot of what I just wouldn't know about Twisted Wonderland."

"Who was that?"

"Ortho Shroud. Perky kid, half cyberaugmented half Shinigami, a real treat to talk to."

Ace snorted as if what you said was hillarious, rolling his eyes and chowing down on a cellery stick. You vaguely wondered if the two species- Faun and Satyr- mainly only ate vegtables or if they still ate meat if presented with it. Deuce certainly seemed interested in your sandwich but was not bold enough to ask about it.

It was while you were enjoying your time with the Goats and feeding little pieces of sandwich to Grim that you took note of something. Everyone had some kind of weapon on them at all times. You really hadn't noticed it before because it was just so commonplace but as you looked you noticed there were varying kinds of weapons, but at least one on every student.

"Wait, so why does everyone have a weapon on them? I thought fighting wasn't allowed on school grounds."

You asked the Satyr that was currently stuffing his face as you eyed the varying weapons each student seemed to carry on their person. Some had bows and arrows, like the Drider Rook. Some had swords affixed to their hips, like Sebek and Silver. Some had little daggers, like the cackling Gnoll Ruggie. The only thing that seemed consistent on the many different instruments of war were the large singular jewel attached to the main body of the tools. The jewel seemed to vary among seven colors but all seemed unique to the wielder as well either in shape or location of the jewel.

"Mmph?"

Ace mumbled past his food, trying to answer your question but almost spitting the food at you. You were less worried about the veggie scraps he ate and simply used your hand to shield your sandwich from any potentially spat out food.

"Don't talk with your mouth full, Ace."

The sudden voice of Trey had you looking up at the large centaur that smiled patiently at you, only the slightest of glares highlighting his face as he glanced at Ace. Ace quickly tried to swallow down the food, starting to choke as Deuce leaped to his frenemy's rescue with a frim swat between the shoulder blades. Even as Ace panted and tried to take a breath, you simply turned back to the Kelpie who patiently waited for your attention to return to him.

"Since Ace is busy dying right now, Trey, why does everyone have some kind of weapon on them?"

"Those are our Magestone weapons. Magestones are used by the magically talented to channel their magic through and keep track of their blot levels."

"Blot levels?"

"Yes, blot is a byproduct of magic. For every use of magic, blot forms and accumulates in the body. Blot is mostly harmless in small amounts and can be removed through proper rest and nutrition. In high amounts, it can lead to overblotting which turns the affected effectively feral. Though we claim to be evolved beyond our base instincts, we still all have them and are subject to them on a daily basis. Overblot exaggerates those instincts and forces them to become the primary decision makers. A mage that goes feral could easily kill others or themselves. Hence why we use magestones to help avoid blot accumulation."

You were surprised to hear all this, seeing the large claymore hanging from Trey's hip even as he spoke in a relaxed tone to you. It certainly explained the large jewels that each weapon seemed to have, but it didn't really explain the actual weapons.

"Okay, so why not put the magestones on pens or something easier to carry around? Why weapons?"

"Well, you've encountered at least one creature in the woods around campus, right? They are animals that have been corrupted by blot and some are even students or townsfolk who were overcome and unable to break free of their feral instincts. They've since lost themselves to the madness and now stalk their previous homes. Sometimes we need to go into the woods for herbs, or to get to the nearby towns for supplies. Sometimes those beasts come out of the woods seeking an end to their torment. Either way, it is better to have a weapon on you that you can channel magic through than to have nothing to defend yourself with."

"Really? Are those things everywhere?"

"Everywhere life and magic exist. Those beasts are why Humans struggled so much until they befriended several magic using species. Where Humans are assumed to be immune to blot due to being magicless, they are still susceptible to the creatures turned feral by blot. The Unicorns were first to start safeguarding Humans from Ferals in earnest, if I am recalling properly, then the Fae, then the rest of the world mostly followed. Honestly, you Humans impress me to even be able to survive without magic and all those Ferals running around."

You almost ducked your head in embarrassment at the warm tone Trey used when talking about Humans. Though it was somewhat patronizing, you still figured that the Kelpie meant it affectionately as he seemed to be more knowledgeable when it came to Humans. Most others didn't seem to have the same interest in the history and just took an interest in you, so it was nice to hear about what exactly Humans of Twisted Wonderland were like.

"Can a Feral be brought back to their senses? Like, if someone here became Feral from overblot, could they be brought back or is it like Rabies and they just have to be put down?"

"I'm not certain what these 'Rabies' are, but yes, if caught in time and incapacitated- or forced to rest- someone can recover from turning Feral. If they are Feral for too long they are consumed by their blot and become living nightmares. Just because others can recover doesn't mean turning Feral doesn't leave any marks. Much of the time it is a rather destructive event and usually the best way to tell how far gone someone is, is by their appearance. The more beastly they look, the harder it will be to get them back. Even if they do return from being Feral, they will have lasting scars."

"Okay..."

"Did you have anymore questions about it?"

"Nope. That makes sense... I mean, some things I don't really get because I don't really know how magic works here, but it makes enough sense for now."

"Glad to be of assistance. I actually came over here to invite you to today's unbirthday party. We often get together and have our own celebration on a day none of the Heartslabuyl students have a birthday. Riddle made it very clear he would like you to attend today's party."

"Can I bring Cater?"

Trey slightly grimaced at this, remembering how angry Riddle had been as he quite literally threw the Water Nymph out of the dorms. Though it would be best to leave Cater out of any Unbirthday parties in the near future, even Trey missed his fellow water creature. It wasn't quite the same to swim the lake without the loud redhead riding along his back or pulling his tail fins.

"... I wouldn't suggest it, but I would rather Cater be allowed back in Heartslabuyl. Maybe Riddle will listen to you if you ask him."

"Okay, I'll bring Cater with me to Heartslabuyl today for the unbrithday party. He can show me how to get there."

"We will see you there, (Y/n). Not to worry, Ace and Deuce will be in attendance as well."

~•§•~

"You sure Trey said it was a good idea? Riddle was steaming mad yesterday and I don't think he'll be too quick to forgive me.."

"He said it was fine and that Riddle would probably listen to me if I asked him to let you back in Heartslabuyl."

"I guess. Looks like they got only some of the roses painted, in any case."

You glanced at the collared Water Nymph curiously, wondering why he would comment something so odd. Maybe it was just a common practice in Twisted Wonderland to actually paint roses. Cater smiled at you as he noticed your queer expression, continuing to walk with you to what he called the Hall of Mirrors. Grim had gone ahead with Ace and Deuce after classes ended, but you made sure to double back to Ramshackle for Cater.

"It's a rule the Queen of Hearts made. She's one of The Great Seven and is who the Heartslabuyl dorm is modled after."

"Who are The Great Seven?"

"Well... That's more a question for Trein and not me, but the Queen of Hearts was a magicless Unicorn that ruled the Queendom of Roses. She came up with all sorts of rules that still don't really make sense to me but Riddle follows them as closely as he follows the Law. Apaprently she was big into Humans because she had over fifty rules related to Humans and how to take care of them."

You hummed at this, noticing you entered what looked like the room you first woke up in with all the floating coffins. The coffins were up near the ceiling now which left seven mirrors surrounding the main central mirror. Naturally Cater instinctively turned straight to the Heartslabuyl mirror but you were more curious about the large mirror sitting in the center of the room. Something about it compelled you to approach, wondering what made this mirror different from the others.

Immediately you noticed that you couldn't see your reflection in the mirror and instead only a dark world greeted you. As you stopped to stand in front of it a sudden green flame was reflected in the mirror, making you take a few steps back in surprise at the sudden movement. From the flames emerged a face that looked like a mask, eyeless and wearing an expression of seriousness as it revealed itself to you.

"Woah! The mirror never does that for anyone except the Headmage! Look at you being all special, (Y/n)."

You remembered trying to argue with the mirror when it said you could not return to your home, ignoring your questions and refusing to answer you after that first request. Now it seemed the mirror was ready to talk and maybe you could get some answers from it.

"What questions do you approach me with now? Even if return to your home was possible, I could not tell you how. I do not hold the answers you seek, but should you still wish to question me, I will speak."

"Why are you talking to me now, but refused to talk to me before?"

"I know much, but not everything and it is rare a question is asked that I cannot answer in a way that is correct. Yet, many a year has passed since a Human has spoken to me and I am obliged to answer thy questions. I could attempt to spin a favorable answer to the unkown, but you don't want those answers, I suspect. The path you walk now is one that is true, it needs not any corrections."

"Have you spoken with Humans in the past?"

"In an event that is now lost to time, a little Human spoke with me and she was charmed by the way I rhyme."

"Fair enough. Mirror, I don't have any magic, do I?"

"You already know the answer yet insist to hear it from another voice. There is no magic within you and it is not a matter of opinion or choice."

You nodded, looking at the frowning face in the green flames for a moment longer. There were plenty of things you could still ask but something told you it was best to leave the miror alone for the time being. If you thought of actual questions to ask and not the nonsensical questions you wanted to ask, you could always talk to the mirror again.

"Thank you for talking to me. I was worried you might hate me."

"I could never hate a Human for in all my years, a Human has never been hateful to me. In my vast knowledge and memory, all I feel is happy when it is a Human I get to see. Were it possible, I would be of greater use to you. Untill we speak once more, adieu."

You somewhat smiled, stepping away from the mirror and back to Cater who was still staring. The face was gone now and you wondered if it had only shown up to talk to you, disappearing once the conversation was over.

"Huh. Guess there is a lot more to you than meets the eye. Anyways, we're gonna be late to the unbirthday party if we don't go soon."

"Right, so how do we do this?"

"You've already used Diasomnia's mirror, so it should be the same when you use Heartslabuyl's mirror. Just... Don't be too surprised if you hear Riddle yelling. He will probably be driving himself mad trying to make everything perfect. He always does."

You both approached the mirror labeled for Heartslabuyl, walking into the shiny surface that seemed to ripple in response. When your vision cleared you were interested to see a large dorm building made of red and white brick. Surrounding it on all sides were rose bushes that seemed to have several red roses sitting proudly on the surface. The playing card motif was apparent in the presence of the suits all somewhere tucked into the architecture of the buildings but it was clear Hearts were preferred due the shape of the rosebushes and most arches were some kind of heart.

It was during your admiration of the rather lovely garden that a familiar voice called out a greeting. The greeting made Cater quickly move to hide behind you again, as if he intended to use you as a shield. Trotting over to greet you was both Riddle and Trey. They looked rather different from their school uniforms and instead seemed to be wearing a similar style clothing to what you would expect from the aesthetics of the dorm. Sitting atop Riddle's head near his golden horn was a golden crown that must have relied on some kind of magic to keep it affixed as it sat crooked on his tresses.

"(Y/n), I'm thrilled you could be in attendance for today's party. Your seat of honor is ready in accordance with the Queen's rules and-"

Riddle's pleasant smile immediately fell as he took note of the Nymph hiding behind you, his once bright mood now soured by the uninvited presence.

"What are you doing back here, Cater? Did I not make myself clear that you were never to set foot here again? And you are with (Y/n), no less! If you were not already collared I would-"

"Riddle?"

The Unicorn's voice caught in his throat as you directly said his name. You hadn't actually called him by name to his face before and something about the sweet tone you had rendered the Unicorn near mute. He was quick to try and respond to you, his voice somewhat cracking from stress as if he were talking to you for the first time despite having spoken with you before.

"Ye-yes?"

"I know you're mad with Cater, but I am asking you to let him back in Heartslabuyl. Sure, he messed up. He's flawed. But hey, who can truly say they aren't?"

"But, because of him-"

"I now need to be guarded and protected so I am not poached by others who would rather see me dead. Yeah, I'm mad about it too. I would like to be able to just be in my dorm and not have to be protected just to live. But if Cater didn't do it, someone else would have. Does that mean I completely forgive him? Absolutely not. Still, to force him out of his home and away from his friends, surely even you can see how cruel that is."

"I-" Riddle looked back at Cater and then back at you, struggling to find the words before he let out a long sigh, "fine. He is going to stay collared until he truly grasps the consequences of his actions, but he is no longer banned from Heartslabyul. Cater, I hope you thank (Y/n) for sticking up for you, especially because you don't deserve it."

"I thanked her a bunch when she let me stay in Ramschackle and cooked some dinner and even breakfast for me-"

"Just say 'Yes, Housewarden Riddle' and hurry along. There are still roses to paint red and without your magic you'll have to work quickly to get them all done."

Cater quickly shut his mouth, running off to do as he had been told by the lovely Unicorn whose smile quickly returned as the Nymph left view. It was odd to you to see how quickly the Unicorn's temper shifted, but you considered yourself lucky that you had managed to talk him into letting Cater come back. One less mouth in Ramshackle to feed and one less person to wake you up before the crack of dawn wanting breakfast.

"Now that unpleasantness is out of the way, shall we?"

He extended an arm out to you, smiling when you reached out and let him lead you to the gardens. It seemed to be almost fully decorated for a party as the rather long table was set for everyone with many different pastries. You were stunned to see the baked goods strewn across the table and Trey chuckled upon seeing your surprised expression.

"The Queendom of Roses is known for many Human foods and have carried on the traditional meals the Queen of Hearts loved. Baked goods are very popular and my family even owns a bakery."

"Do you cook much beyond baking?"

"I'm afraid I'm not that good, but I'd love to learn if you're willing to teach me."

"We can make it an exchange. Teach me how to make some of your pastries and I'll teach you how to cook some meals."

"It's a deal."

Riddle almost seemed irritated at how you were chatting with Trey, but he was content he got to keep you close as you admired the decorated garden. The unpainted roses near the front were just another frustration for Riddle, but at least the garden where the party was being held looked alright. He certainly put his freshmen to work given Cater was usually the one to paint the roses given his Unique Magic.

"Here, let me show you to your seat. I will warn you, there is a mouse asleep in the tea pot and she is not supposed to be woken up, so if you would like some tea, ask me and I will get you some."

"A mouse?"

"Yes, and if she wakes up we need to put jelly on her nose. She has been fussy recently, so it may prove to be difficut."

"Alright," you chuckled softly, "I will make sure not to wake her. Where do all these rules come from?"

"I forget you're not from here sometimes. The Queen of Hearts made many rules and as the dorm modeled after her, it is our duty to uphold her rules. Such as the rule of leaving a seat at the head of the table for a Human. Even after they went extinct, it is still a rule I upheld for every unbirthday party. Now, that seat is yours."

He led you to the head of the table and even pulled the chair on the left side out for you, almost seeming excited at the prospect of your attendance at the party. As you sat down he pranced around to the other side, smiling as he took his place at the head of the table. You could see not too far from you, Ace was holding a fussing Grim while Deuce attempted to feed the semi-stressed cat-beast a piece of tart.

"Now we can get the party underway."

"Thank you for inviting me, Riddle, it's nice to enjoy food I don't have to make."

"Such a shame. I understand there is a need for food being cooked before you can eat it safely, just another rule others can't seem to follow. That's why you will be staying in Heartslabuyl from now on. That way you can enjoy all our unbirthday parties and be kept safe with me."

"But," you started, feeling rather confused by the Unicorn's declaration, "the Headmage and Ortho both said Ignihyde will be guarding me next-"

"They can't take care of you the way you need to be!"

Riddle's sudden outburst made everyone go quiet, staring at the Unicorn in unease as it was clear his temper was rising. He didn't seem to realize the others were looking now as he stomped one hoof, angrily crossing his arms almost like a pouting child. It was odd to see the Unicorn behave in such a way, as Trey had even told you Riddle was almost twice his age.

"Riddle-"

"Enough! You will be staying here where you can be treated properly in accordance to the Queen's rules, end of discussion. If I have to take your head to make you see how much safer you are here, I will."

The direct threat was an unexpected one but it made Trey realize just how close the Unicorn was to snapping. He was already on edge due to Cater being brought back into the fold without his permission so the light pushback from the treasured Human was just pressing his temper further.

"Riddle, enough. You can't force her to stay-"

"Even you, Trey? Are all of you against me now? It doesn't matter, I will protect this one human, with or without your help."

"Riddle, you've gone too far now. You need to stop or be stopped-"

"SHUT YOUR TRAITOROUS MOUTH! NONE OF YOU UNDERSTAND ONLY I CAN DO WHAT NEEDS TO BE DONE TO PROTECT MY KING OF HEARTS!"

A sudden burst of magic from Riddle kicked up what almost looked like smoke that quickly coated the entire garden. You struggled to see through the haze as you covered your mouth to not breathe in the dark cloud.

As the dust settled and you could finally look up again, seeing a beast standing before you.

His eyes were no longer the lovely pale blue they had been, now overtaken by red rage. His white fur was coated in what seemed to be ink that flowed down from his face and up from his once-golden hooves. The gold upon his body had all turned a corrupted inky black and his very face seemed to have been torn at the corners of his mouth to accommodate the fangs that now gleamed and jutted past his lips.

Fire began to lick around the garden, sweeping up the rose bushes and crackling dangerously as ash slowly coated the ground. Everything seemed to change in the blink of an eye as the vicious creature stood before you, blinded by anger and fueled by hate. Perched against his shoulder was a large two-handed axe that looked as if someone took a metal heart and pieced through the handle to make a viciously sharp instrument.

"What's happening?"

You called out to the other students as you tried to go to their aid only to be forced back into your chair, vines sprouting up to grab your arms and hold you to the seat. The vines were far too tight and far too sturdy for you to do much else besides try and struggle against them. They did not yield to your desperate attempts at freedom.

"He's overblotted and gone feral! All Heartslabuyl students, get back to safety-"

"OFF WITH YOUR HEADS!"

A sudden burst of magic from the Unicorn left several students clutching at their necks, the large metal collars securing themselves and remaining unmoving despite their struggles. If that wasn't bad enough already, Riddle began to charge, axe raised above his head as if he intended to cleave the others in half. His target was obvious as Trey tried to quickly pull the vines off of you and free you from the chair.

"GET YOUR FILTHY HANDS OFF OF MY KING!"

Trey had no choice but to abandon his endeavor and retreat as Riddle's axe narrowly missed the flank of the Kelpie. The table that had been in front of you suffered the brunt force of the Unicorn's crushing hooves and the sharp side of the axe, splitting in half from the force. Your vine restraints only tightened as the chair you had been sitting on dragged you towards the now panting and raging Unicorn.

Trey, Ace, Deuce, and Cater drew their weapons, the magestones on the handles and grips of the instruments gleaming in anticipation. The resident Queen of Hearts had gone feral with rage and would die if he wasn't returned to his senses soon. Not only that, but the last Human in Twisted Wonderland was being held prisoner by the enraged and rampaging Unicorn. They had little choice but to fight back.

Even little Grim, who was clearly frightened of Riddle stood on guard, ready to do what he could to save you and maybe even the Unicorn from what he had become.

You refused to be little more than a damsel to be rescued, pulling and staining against your binds even as they likely bruised your soft flesh. Trey wielded a large claymore that held his magestone in the pommel and clashed with the Unicorn, magic sparking around them. Even though Cater has been collared, he still attempted to use his spear to draw the Unicorn's attention, trying to give his dormmate an opening against the Unicorn.

It quickly became clear to you that their weapons just weren't doing anything against the Unicorn and couldn't even cut his hide as he used the broad side of the axe to shove the two students he had called his friends. You momentarily thought that maybe Riddle didn't want to hurt them as he used the sides of his weapon to push them, but that notion quickly disappeared when he tried to cleave the Kelpie in two. Each slice of the axe was blocked by the claymore as the two continued their dance in battle, almost matching one another step for step.

A dance of monsters as both fought the other fiercely.

It wasn't until Riddle managed to catch Trey's side as the Kelpie reared, throwing the larger centaur back and into the dark waters of the lake. The Kelpie did not resurface immediately as a deep red spread from where he hit the water. Riddle almost seemed to be proud of this feat as he turned away from the lake, leaving Cater to dive in after his friend. Instead, Riddle turned his gaze towards Grim and the Goats.

It took less than a sweeping smack from the axe to send both Goat men sprawling to the ground. Despite Ace's best efforts, the Unicorn kicked away his Xiphos and rendered the Satyr unable to retaliate. Deuce grabbed Ace, pulling him back before the inky hooves of the Unicorn could dig into the latter's skull. As they both moved into the bushes to escape Riddle's wrath, it left little Grim exposed and at the mercy of the Unicorn.

You looked down at your binds and tried even more desperately to free yourself of them, terrified the Unicorn would kill your sweet little friend.

"You," his voice was dripped in venom as he spoke, the headsman's axe resting against the Unicorn's shoulder, "you are the worst of them all."

You looked up to see Riddle was standing over an all too familiar shaking and terrified figure, the gray fur was ruffled and standing out even as the soft creature tried to ball himself up. Grim was horrified and didn't realize that these fancy students could be taken over by feral instincts the way the beasts of the woods could be.

"You cuddle in her arms and turn her against me with your vile words! Acting as if you have any right to her, to call her 'your Hooman' and insult my King of Hearts so callously. You will be first to truly lose your head for this!"

As the axe raised and the Unicorn reared back, you found yourself freed. It didn't really matter to you if you freed yourself or if you had been freed, all that mattered was getting to Grim. Things both moved too fast and too slow for your brain to take genuine note of the things around you as your legs pushed you forward to your goal. The axe began to fall and your mind went blank with white hot rage.

"GRIM!"

Stunned silence fell over the winding garden as the frightened and confused students stared upon the horrific scene. Your arm hung limply at your side, blood slowly dripping down the soft skin and marring the grass with a deep crimson. No one could speak as they stared at the beast made flesh.

The beast before you had been thrown back from simple and pure hysteria fueled rage. Even as he struggled to get back up, you could see he had the wind knocked out of him from the force and strength of your blow. Struggling to breathe and winded from your rage, he almost seemed angry before he truly looked at what stood before him. Even as he struggled to stand, his eyes filled with a mixture of sorrow, regret, and confusion. No magic had touched him.

You felt nothing but slowly fading rage as you stared at the rampaging Unicorn that had so happily tried to cut down your closest friend since you woke up in his nightmare realm. Even as the axe sliced into your non-dominant forearm and pressed against bone, you refused to look away from the now shocked inky abomination. The fangs riddling the maw of this monster parted and that same distorted voice spoke, now laced with pain.

"You weren't supposed to- I didn't mean to..!"

Held in your dominant hand was the soft and still shaking body of your confidant and companion as he confusedly wondered if he had died. His bright blue eyes daring to peak up towards his savior but fear still gripped his heart. Holding him so securely was the Human he loved being around and joking with, but the expression she now wore was one of unbridled fury even with the large axe embedded in her soft flesh.

You slowly fell to your knees in the grass, arms covered in bruises from your previous bindings and eyes filled with firey hate. No one even saw you move, let alone make it across the garden to where you were now. They had all been so focused on Riddle that they were caught off guard by the sudden display of strength from who they assumed to be the weakest among them.

Humans were weak, fragile, and above all else in need of protection, right? So why did they all feel so genuinely afraid at that moment?

"Why did you-?"

Taking advantage of Riddle's momentary return of consciousness, Trey was quick to launch an attack at the distraught Unicorn from the lake he pulled himself out of. It hit him square between the eyes causing a cascading reaction of golden magic to erupt from the Unicorn's horn. The light was near blinding but you ducked down, using your non-mangled arm and body to shield your little friend.

Your world went dark.

[lostintransist]

Sacrifice Doesn’t Hurt Less if They Don’t Love You

I can't decide if I want to write a whole fic for this chapter that spawned fully formed in my head but a mutual told me I could post it here.

Context. Soap and Ghost are lovers. They are both wanting to work through some issues and ask reader (female pronouns) to become their third for a time. Reader was unsure about joining a thruple, so they offer to pay her. Reader is a soldier and works with the 141.

CW: Mentions of onpage violence, can be read as suicidal ideation, self sacrifice.

Watching Soap and Ghost share a look of goodbyes with only their eyes cements for you the knowing, deeper than your bones, that no one will ever love you like they love each other. No room exists for you to shelter inside of their love. The pain is freeing somehow. Like every message pounded into your head about being unlovable was true.

The call of the void had abated for a time, since they paid you for your body. The urge to jump without pulling your shoot, to kink the hose to your oxygen lessened. It returned now. It didn’t call though, it sang. Staring into the horizon where blue became intangible you know that even if you listened to the haunting call if you go home today an ‘accident’ would befall you soon enough.

A hand on your thigh pulls you back from the discordant notes. You look from the hand to the face and see Price looking at you, concern in the crinkles around his eyes.

“You with us Everest?”

“Sorry Cap. Just mentally gearing up.”

He nodded, accepting the strange behavior and the explanation. He had used the shared channel everyone could listen in on over the headphones. Helicopters were not the place for private conversations.

Feeling Ghost’s eyes you turn. Looking at one eye and then the other you find nothing but the mask inside and out. The horizon draws your attention again as you listen to the symphony from within the void.

Price had organized groups of three before everyone piled into the helicopter. You had been assigned to Soap and Ghost. As the ghost ship came into sight you slipped into your operator role. Rearguard would be you duty. They trusted you to step backwards over the dodgy doorways and ensure no one attacked them from behind. A place of trust.

Everyone knew the mission. Locate and terminate the computer that would signal a series of bombs dotting major cities. It would be highly guarded and most likely booby trapped. Six teams split as they enter the darkness of the ship. It creaks with each bob of the waves and every step as if she is moments from careening into the depths to become a home for the deep dwelling fish.

Soap takes the lead, heading aft. None of you encounter resistance until six levels down. Movement from barely beyond your vision as you step down another set of ladders. You fire off two shots, a body falling into the light. Not one of yours. A hand on you shoulder is the warning you get before Ghost and Soap step over the body, heading deeper into the darkness.

Smaller stature is not often an advantage in your line of work. But tiny halls become your safe haven because you are not an overly large man.

Moving before your mind can process you are grappling for a knife that connected with your vest. A man had stepped from the deepest shadows and swung at you after the guys had stepped through the next porthole. He pulled back and swung downwards, aiming for your neck. Leaning back you caught only a nick from the blade along the crease where jaw meets neck. Because all wide swings must be returned by an equally wide swing you step in and jam both hands into his forearm.

The enemy fights his arm up, your upper body strength no match for his. Instead of fighting him in a losing battle you place one boot on the wall behind you, leveraging your best asset in the fight.

It impressed the men on the 141 that you could match or often beat them in dead lift squats. They did make fun of you for how low your numbers were on upper body though so it all came out in the wash.

The man brought his second arm up to support his knife wielding hand, the tip of the blade inching closer to your face. Forcing your second boot up the wall you press with all the power your foremothers blessed you with. The light bouncing around from your rifle shines off whites of the mans eyes as you shove the blade into his windpipe. He slumps as his life flees.

Gravity takes hold of you now that friction has abated and you slam to the ground with a grunt. Your knee took the bulk of the blow. Up on your feet you limp after your lovers. They must have circled back to find you since you find them only three rooms away.

“What happened Everest?” Ghost barks at you.

“Your job is to protect each other, my job is to protect you. I did my job.” You snap at him. He would want to take it from your hide if there was a later. On jobs he was your superior and sass could not be accepted.

Soap reached around him and lifted blood from your collar.

“We are here to protect you too Ev.”

The sweetest blade to your heart came from Soap’s tongue. Lies, because if they were here to protect you they would have noticed sooner that you were gone.

His finger hovers as you turn your head slightly away from his touch.

“We’ve got more ground to cover. Let’s go.” Voice harsh, you focus on limping forward.

Several more engagements occur, but the guys don’t leave your sight once. After clearing a particularly well guarded tiny red room you find what you have been looking for. Soap drops to a knee at the computer, typing away.

You and Ghost take up opposite positions staring down the hallways watching the darkness.

“Why didn’t you call for help?”

Ghost’s even tone hits like a lash across your back.

“Didn’t really have time with a blade at my throat.”

“Why are you mad at us?”

Even now the distinction between your place and theirs is hammered home in the phrasing of the question. Us denotes a you, an outsider.

“Now is not the time to unpack our relationship problems, Simon.”

“I’m getting no response from the computer and I don’t dare move it. This group really loves their bombs to trigger when people touch things.”

A head poking around the walls you to fire off a few rounds.

“I’m jammed, Soap replace me. I can work on disabling the computer.” You step into the small, red, red box trading places with Soap who steps into the hall, gun drawn on the shadows.

The instant his heel passes beyond the door frame you swing the heavy metal door shut, slamming the bar into place. Faraday cages are interesting things. They can be made by accident, or opportunity.

You couldn’t disable the computer you had fought so hard to get to the bowels of the ship, but you could stop it from sending a signal. As the bar clanged down, the bell tolling of your death, two irate faces appeared in the small window. Two men you love more than any reasonable person could understand stare at you, yell at you, beat at the door demanding entrance.

A beep from the computer tells you there is four minutes left until the signal is sent. Your lip trembles. Mouthing the words so carefully they can understand even beyond the slightly distorted glass you give your final goodbyes.

‘Love you.’

Blowing a shaky kiss to their horrified faces you slide the cover in place, sealing your tomb.

The void’s lilting tune is sweet in your ears. The pounding on the door stops. No sounds squawk from the radio in your ear, your play worked. They would be safe. They didn’t need you anyways, a matched pair didn’t need a third.

With nothing left to do but breathe in the last of your oxygen you decided to strip down to your uniform. Emptying every weapon on you of its rounds you place them gently on the floor a fair distance from the door. No need for them to get stepped on when someone can finally reach your body. Next goes the holsters and the heavy tactical gear.

It’s getting harder to breath now, your lungs heaving for a breath more. You sound like a baby you once saw with RSV. You place a hand to your ribs, finding the flesh pulling between the bones with each breath. Laying down seems the best option now. Your mind feels pulled, stretched. Taffy for brains. Stretching out you get comfortable. With your eyes fluttering you can almost imagine yourself on a cot somewhere in the tropics.

Distantly a beeping starts, the thirty second countdown. One long beep reaches through the fog of oxygen deprivation, you strain your ears. Even in the bowels of the ocean you would have heard something, shouting, if you had failed. When none occur you sigh and surrender to the darkness.

You might not have been important to them. They might have never loved you. But god dammit you were going to be remembered.

I also write COD over on AO3, same handle.

Masterlist

[hamsterclaw]

An 18+ crackfic ft kth x reader.

Dedicated to Kim Taehyung's massive military arms.

Warnings: Crack, unseriousness and seriousness, medical professionals AU, mentions of blood, surgery, death, organ donation, vaping, explicit sex, birth control and copious swearing. 8k words.

start

‘Uh, guys,’ says the new intern, peering around the makeshift barrier you’ve draped between you and the surgeons. ‘There’s a lot of blood.’

‘Pretty, isn’t he?’ says the anaesthetic nurse, almost cooing.

Min Yoongi, your anaesthetic attending, looks unimpressed. ‘Who said he could look around the barrier? Threw me off my game.’ 

He waves his Switch dismissively. ‘Go check it out, Dr L/N. Also, Mr Kim, mind your minion.’

‘For fuck’s sake,’ snaps Mr Kim, otherwise known as Professor Kim Seokjin, head of cardiothoracics at your hospital and editor of Cardiac Surgery, the main journal for cardiothoracics in the world. (Impact factor 10.3)

You scramble round to see and realise the intern’s not lying.

‘Probably a litre of blood loss, maybe two,’ you call over the barrier.

‘I’m on it,’ calls Jung Hoseok, the perfusionist. He doesn’t quite beam his trademark sunny smile, he’s too busy running blood into the bypass circuit, but his pleasant, polite tones are a nice change from Kim Seokjin’s frosty comments and Yoongi’s grunts of disinterest.

‘You checking out my ass?’ asks Kim Taehyung, cardiothoracics fellow, deep voice lowered, a smirk you sense rather than see behind his face mask. 

‘Dunno, is your ass making the patient bleed like a stuck pig?’ you retort. ‘Also, Jimin’s ass is better.’

Kim Taehyung’s brows draw together and he throws you a look that tells you that you’ll pay for that later, and it sends a delicious thrill up your spine, because Taehyung’s been looking good lately.

He always had a face to make one look twice, and now that he’s been hitting the gym and running in the mornings, he’s got a golden tan and arms that strain even through his baggy scrubs tops.

‘We have VF,’ says Yoongi, cool as a cucumber, throwing you a look. ‘Just as well we’re on bypass, but did you idiots get air in the coronaries again?’

You realise that whilst you were fantasising about Kim Taehyung choking you with his big arms and then his dick, all the alarms in your monitoring have been activated.

‘I can’t help if I make everyone’s hearts flutter,’ says Professor Kim Seokjin, Assistant Dean of the top medical school in South Korea.

‘Ah, stop,’ titters Hoyeon, the scrub nurse who’s been working with him for the last ten years but manfully pretending like it’s the first time she’s heard the joke.

The intern’s still staring, mouth agape, and you realise he’s staring at you. 

‘Having a stroke?’ you ask, glaring at him.

‘Sorry noona,’ he stutters.

Beside him, Taehyung snickers. ‘Noona?’

‘Jesus fuck,’ scowls Yoongi. ‘Charge up the damn paddles and get me the fuck out of here.’

Yoongi tugs off his mask in a clear violation of operating theatre policy. ‘I’m getting coffee. If the patient dies, it’s on you.’

He tosses you a capped syringe of fentanyl and then he’s out.

Professor Kim Seokjin eyes you over the draped barrier from the lofty heights of the step he insists on using even though he’s the tallest person in the room. ‘Don’t worry about Dr Jeon, it’s his first time at everything, apparently.’

‘Apparently,’ you echo, firing up the internal defib paddles that Taehyung’s already wielding.

There’s a thin alarm that stops as the shock is delivered, restarting the heart.

Your monitoring resumes regular, steady beeping, Jung Hoseok cheers, and Dr Jeon hits the floor, twitching. 

‘Fuck,’ says Professor Kim Seokjin, clinical lead for the cardiac services directorate. ‘Was he clear?’

‘Apparently not,’ sighs Hoyeon. ‘You told him to hold the retractors, didn’t you?’

You wonder if, as the last remaining anaesthetist in operating theatre 1b, you should be checking on him.

You step back round the barrier and lean over his supine form.

Dr Jeon does have pretty eyes, you note, as he blinks. 

‘You’ve been defibrillated, stay still,’ you explain, reaching to check the pulse in his throat. 

‘Whatever you say, noona,’ he says, his voice clear and high. 

Above you, you can hear Taehyung chuckling to himself.

Yoongi reaches down and plucks the fentanyl out of your hand. 

‘The patient’s BP’s up, why the hell haven’t you given this yet,’ he complains.

You stare at him, including at the smear of powdered sugar on his cheek from the doughnut he scoffed that he hasn’t bothered to wipe off. ‘Sorry, boss.’

Yoongi rolls his eyes. ‘The intern is fine. One shock never hurt anyone.’

‘Don’t worry, noona,’ echoes Dr Jeon, a little dreamily still. ‘I’m fine.’ 

You get up. ‘I’m not your noona, Dr Jeon, we’ve just met,’ you say sternly. ‘Now get up.’

***

You take a furtive look around and when the coast is clear slap the side of the vending machine with the flat of your hand.

The bag of candy you paid for dangles tantalisingly from the shelf instead of falling into the metal collection bin for you to fish out.

‘Shit fuck damnit,’ you swear, preparing to slap again.

Your wrist is caught in mid-air, and a male voice says, smoothly, ‘Allow me.’

You watch, mildly awestruck, as Kim Taehyung grips both sides of the vending machine and shakes it, jostling your candy free.

Shit. When did he get so strong?

He retrieves the bag of candy but instead of holding it out to you, he pockets it instead.

‘Tell me more about how Park Jimin’s ass is better than mine,’ he says, looking down at you.

The arrogant, gorgeous asshole. 

You shove your whole hand into his pocket before he can stop you and curl your fingers around the plastic package.

‘Let me have it,’ you warn.

He smirks. ‘Whatever you want, baby.’

He leans back against the vending machine, all hooded eyes and thick muscles, and your hand stills in his pocket.

‘Tell you what,’ he says, voice all smoke and sex, tendrils of seduction curling around your ears. ‘Let’s go to the on-call room and I’ll unwrap it for you too.’

***

It’s been a while since you and Taehyung last fucked, but there’s never been anything tentative about him, not when he has you in his sights.

He curls a hand around the back of your head, widens his stance so you can reach to kiss him better, and relearns the shape of your mouth so quickly it’s like there was never a gap.

You gasp as he backs you up against the door, lifts his hips up against yours like he means to fuck you into it.

‘Taehyung ah,’ you mumble.

‘Hmm?’ he murmurs, warm breath on your cheek near your ear, his dark wavy hair tickling your ear as he kisses down your neck.

‘I was checking out your ass,’ you confess, yelping a little as he nips where your neck curves into your shoulders.

‘I know, baby,’ he croons, approving and patronising in a way that would infuriate you if he weren’t so goddamned hot. 

He tugs at the hem of your scrubs top, divesting you of it so smoothly you’re awed despite yourself. 

‘So pretty,’ he tells you, eyes dark, voice dropped low. 

‘S-s-s-sorry –’

Both of you jump at the unexpected voice. 

A face pops up from the bed, and you scream and jump into Taehyung’s (big) arms. 

You’ve never seen his entire face, but you definitely recognise those huge eyes. 

Taehyung’s still got his arms around you. ‘Fucking hell, Jungkook. Get the fuck out. We’re not at the Vegas artificial heart conference now.’ 

‘What happened at the Vegas artificial heart conference?’ you mutter, pulling your scrubs top back on. 

‘Don’t get dressed, baby, we can still?’ Taehyung lets his voice trail off suggestively. 

‘Nope,’ you say, shaking your head. ‘Next time, defibrillate him harder.’ 

‘Don’t worry, I will,’ Taehyung promises, throwing Jungkook a dark look. ‘Dinner tonight?’ 

You sigh. ‘Don’t forget to bring my candy.’ 

***

You’re sitting behind him so you can’t see his face, but you suspect that Kim Namjoon, your colleague and fellow anaesthetist, is asleep. 

There’s something about the slant of his shoulders that gives him away. That and the soft snores and myclonic jerks.

You kick his chair to wake him up before Yoongi notices.

‘Fuck,’ utters Namjoon as he jerks awake and knocks his coffee cup off the table.

You raise your eyebrow at the clear liquid now puddling on the floor.

Min Yoongi turns away from the screen where you’re dialled into a multidisciplinary meeting with a hospital in Busan and you both freeze guiltily.

‘It was kind of you to wake Dr Kim up but you do realise I could see both of you in the camera view,’ he points out. ‘In fact, that was my only entertainment whilst we were waiting for this idiot to get the point.’

‘We’re not on mute!’ you say, quickly, trying to salvage the situation.

‘Don’t worry,’ comes the dry voice of Dr Choi from the Busan team. ‘I know how Dr Min feels about me.’

‘Why don’t you do something about it then,’ mutters Yoongi. ‘Like die.’ 

‘How bout I fuck your minion?’ asks Dr Choi.

You and Namjoon look at each other uneasily. 

‘Relax,’ snaps Yoongi. ‘He can’t fuck a damn thing with his pencil dick. Even if he could, you wouldn’t feel it anyway.’

‘Will you motherfuckers shut the fuck up and just accept this patient for surgery?’ 

‘Certainly,’ comes the smooth velvety tones of Professor Kim Seokjin, lead author of the 2019 seminal paper on kidney injury following cardiopulmonary bypass. (Cited 29 times)

The squares on the screen reshuffle, and you’re treated to a close-up of Professor Kim Seokjin’s very handsome face, backlit to perfection with two surgical lights from theatre 1b. 

He looks straight into the camera with his trademark head tilted half smile. ‘Your place or ours?’

***

‘Your place or ours, like a fucking nightcap,’ complains Namjoon bitterly as he follows you onto the train to Busan. 

You don’t know why he’s complaining, he’s not the one carrying Yoongi’s beloved Hario V60 Switch immersion dripper and mini mill. Yoongi had insisted that you bring his coffee paraphernalia to Busan in your backpack because - ‘the coffee at St Mary’s is shit’ and ‘I don’t trust him to carry it’. 

You grimace as the him in question, Namjoon, throws himself haphazardly into a seat and there’s the audible snap of breaking plastic from his backpack. 

‘Was that something important?’ you ask, out of obligation. 

‘Just my work tablet,’ Namjoon says, shrugging. ‘I have two, anyway.’ 

‘Now you have one,’ you mutter, looking for a place to stow Yoongi’s stuff. 

‘Let me,’ offers a husky voice you know well. 

You turn your head to confirm that it’s Park Jimin’s hands lifting Yoongi’s stuff and placing it carefully in the overhead compartment. 

‘Thanks, Jimin,’ you say. 

Jimin smiles and waves you into your seat, then sits next to you. 

‘Heard you were singing praises about my ass,’ he says, a flirtatious twinkle in his eye, a lilt to his voice that lends a soupcon of filth to his words. 

‘She took it back,’ corrects Kim Taehyung as he slides into the seat next to Namjoon. 

Jimin doesn’t even raise an eyebrow. 

‘Want to go to the beach after the surgery?’ he asks you. 

‘Dunno, did you bring swim trunks?’ you ask, feigning innocence. 

He laughs, delighted. ‘Nope.’ 

���Then yes.’ 

Taehyung says, ‘I’ll share my suncreen’ at the same time as Namjoon says, thoughtfully, ‘You can probably buy swimming trunks —’ 

Your phone rings. It’s Yoongi. 

‘Where are you and Namjoon,’ he asks, forgoing a greeting entirely. 

‘On the train. We’ll be there in two hours,’ you tell him. 

‘Two hours? Are you walking from Seoul? Backwards?’ Yoongi asks, exasperated. ‘I’m already here and I need a coffee.’ 

‘You’re already there? How?’ 

‘Never mind. Are you with the cardiothoracics fellows? Kim Seokjin and I are waiting to start.’ 

‘They’re on the same train,’ you say. 

‘Jesus fuck,’ Yoongi snaps. ‘What part of urgent surgery didn’t you guys get? Even the intern made it before you, and he doesn’t even know what operation we’re doing.’ 

‘We can get a taxi straight from the station,’ you offer tentatively. 

‘You weren’t going to do that anyway?’ 

‘Just tell me what you want,’ you beg. 

Yoongi sighs, his eyeroll so obvious you can hear it through the phone. ‘We’re in theatre 4. Come as soon as you arrive.’ 

‘Well fuck,’ you say, as he hangs up on you unceremoniously. 

***

Taehyung nudges you. 

‘Want me to carry you?’ he asks, sympathetically.

In your mad dash to the hospital once your train got into Busan earlier, you’d stacked it coming down the

station steps and twisted your ankle. Thankfully Yoongi’s coffee kit was intact, you’d have never heard the end of it otherwise.

You’d managed to make it just in time to recover the patient post-op and even to make Yoongi a coffee so he couldn’t be too mad at your and Namjoon’s tardiness.

Jimin and Taehyung had managed to smooth down the ruffled feathers of Professor Kim Seokjin, pioneer of the Toro sutureless repair technique used by cardiothoracic surgeons around the world. (First presented at the World Cardiothoracic Congress 2015 in Philadelphia)

The day hadn’t been a total wash, and now you’re heading to the beach for a beer before taking the train back home.

You look up at Taehyung to see him smiling at you affectionately.

‘I can walk,’ you tell him.

‘I didn’t build these muscles for nothing,’ he coaxes. ‘At least lean on my arm.’

You can’t help your smile as you slip your hand into the crook of his arm.

‘I’m tired,’ you tell him.

He tugs you closer gently. ‘I know, baby.’

You don’t think you’ve ever been out with him before like this. You’ve gone out in a group plenty of times, but you’ve never really touched him in public.

Which is not to say you haven’t touched every inch of his skin in private. 

You are friends who fuck after all.

By the time you catch up with Jimin and Namjoon, they’ve cracked open the beer and made a space on the beach far enough back that the tide doesn’t reach.

‘Cheers,’ Jimin says, passing you a drink, barely reacting to the fact that Taehyung’s got his arm around you. 

‘Cheers,’ you say. ‘Where’s —-‘

You stop dead mid sentence as the intern, Dr Jeon Jungkook, emerges from the water and approaches you, shirtless, and wet. 

You blink, twice, then turn and bury your face in Taehyung’s chest. 

‘Why is the intern so naked?’ you mumble.

You can feel the rumble of Taehyung’s laughter in his chest before you hear it.

‘Do you want me to ask him for you?’ he asks.

‘No. I don’t want to talk to him.’

He laughs again. ‘Shut up and drink, you’re going to make me jealous.’

Now you’re laughing. ‘I’ve never seen you jealous, Tae.’

It’s true.

In the two years that you’ve been fucking Taehyung on and off, you’ve never seen him be possessive about anything.

Now that you think of it, he’s the most self-assured person you know.

You’re still laughing to yourself as you turn back to the group, only to realise that the intern is sitting right next to you.

‘Am I embarrassing you, noona?’ he asks.

There’s more than a hint of cockiness in his tone.

The little shit knows his body is fucking hot. 

You haven’t survived the last three years under the tutelage of Dr Min Yoongi for nothing.

‘I’m not embarrassed,’ you say, looking him dead in the eyes. ‘I guess since you’ve seen me without a shirt on it’s only fair that I get to see you shirtless too.’

Jimin’s eyebrows rise.

Namjoon rolls his eyes.

Jeon Jungkook blushes so hard his ears turn red.

Beside you, Taehyung snorts and cracks open another beer.

***

You’re trying to finish up your chart from the patient you just recovered but the recovery nurses are discussing hot theatre staff again.

‘Scary, but hot.’

You stifle a smile as Yoongi walks out of theatres and heads straight for you.

‘The bed on ICU is ready,’ he says, not bothering to give you any context.

‘Of course,’ you say, bowing.

He gives you a suspicious look. ‘We’ll start at 7 tomorrow.’

‘Yes, sir,’ you say, saluting.

‘I have more beans,’ he says, a final parting shot before he walks off.

You make a mental note to collect the fresh coffee beans from Yoongi’s locker at 6am tomorrow because a 7am start for him means a 6.30am start for you.

Beside you, the recovery nurses sigh collectively, and you know without looking up that it’s Professor Kim Seokjin, winner of the De Leval prize for outstanding contributions to cardiothoracic surgery on three separate occasions - 2017, 2018 and 2020.

‘Waaah I don’t have to worry now that I know my patients are in your hands,’ Professor Kim Seokjin says to the nurses, jovial and charming as always.

To you, he smiles and nods politely. ‘Wake and extubate my patient please, they can be discharged tomorrow.’

Now Yoongi’s words make sense. 

‘Ah, I’ll try my best, but Dr Min wants the patient on ICU overnight,’ you say.

Professor Kim Seokjin may have a wing of the medical school named after him but it’s Min Yoongi who’ll have your head on a platter if you don’t follow his instructions.

You wince slightly as you catch sight of the patient’s vitals. Yeah. Yoongi called it. He’s not the most highly paid anaesthetist this side of the Hangang for nothing.

You’re prepping to transfer to the ICU when you hear Nurse Choi giggle. 

‘He’s so handsome!’

Next to her, Nurse Kim says, in a voice that’s higher than usual, ‘He’s so nice, too. Ara said he was a total gentleman on their date.’

You look up, expecting to see Park Jimin or even the intern, but instead you see Kim Taehyung.

The punch you feel in your chest surprises you.

Why would you care if Kim Taehyung’s taking other women on dates? 

It’s not like he’s dating you.

You’re concentrating so hard on trying not to be upset that you don’t notice that Taehyung’s standing beside you until he picks up an infusion pump.

‘Seems like a lot of adrenaline,’ he comments.

‘I think Professor Kim was, uh, optimistic about his heart function,’ you reply. 

You take the pump from him and snap it onto the trolley pole. ‘We’re going up to the ICU.’

Before you can stop him, Taehyung’s taken up position at the head of the bed. ‘I’ll help you wheel him up.’

‘There are porters for that sort of thing,’ you protest.

He just looks at you patiently.

In the end you acquiesce and let him help. He waits by the nursing station whilst you hand over.

‘Dinner at the Kitchen?’ Taehyung suggests when you’re done.

‘Sure,’ you agree, falling into step beside him.

Then you remember. ‘But you can’t come over after, I’m on my period.’

‘Why can’t I come over when you’re on your period?’ asks Taehyung, swiping his ID to let you both into the changing rooms.

‘You can come over but no sex,’ you tell him, as the intern emerges from behind the scrubs dispenser.

He flushes immediately and drops his gaze.

‘Noona,’ he says, bowing in greeting. 

‘You seem more shy with your clothes on, Jeon Jungkook,’ you observe.

‘Not always, noona,’ Jeon Jungkook murmurs. He flicks his eyes to yours briefly.

You laughs, surprised, and his whole face flushes prettily. 

As soon as he leaves, Taehyung frowns. 

‘I’d probably be worried if I thought there was a chance he wouldn’t pass out if you flirted back,’ he says casually.

‘I don’t date jailbait,’ you say. ‘What are you doing?’

Taehyung’s hoisted your backpack onto his shoulder.

He raises a brow, matter of fact. ‘You’re on your period, let me carry your stuff.’

‘Please, you’ll make me fall in love with you,’ you tease.

He laughs. ‘That’s the plan. Come on, I’m buying dinner.’

***

‘That dinner was worth a blow job,’ you announce, licking the last of the sauce on the wings off your fingers.

Taehyung pushes your water glass closer to you. 

‘I didn’t buy you dinner so we could fuck,’ he says.

There’s an edge to his voice that makes you look at him carefully.

‘I’m sorry. I’m just — it’s just that, that’s what we do, isn’t it?’

Taehyung looks irritated. ‘It doesn’t have to be just fucking all the time does it?’

His tone is shorter than he’s ever been with you.

You sense you’re in dangerous waters here, but you have no idea what the right thing to do or say is.

‘You’re right,’ you end up saying, but it took you so long to say it that it comes out flat, like you don’t really mean it.

Taehyung gets up. ‘Anyway.’

He still sounds annoyed.

You follow him out of the Kitchen in silence.

‘I’ll walk you home, it’s late. Don’t worry, I won’t invite myself in.’

He sets off without really waiting for you to answer.

It’s a short walk to your apartment, not really long enough for you to gather your thoughts, but you know you can’t let him leave like this.

‘Tae?’ you ask, tentative, touching his arm.

It’s too dark to really see his face, but you can feel the tension in his muscles draining away under your fingers.

‘I’m sorry I snapped at you,’ he says.

‘It’s ok,’ you tell him. ‘I don’t think of you as just a fuck buddy, you know?’

‘I know we said no strings, at the beginning,’ he says. ‘But we’ve been doing this for so long —‘

He’s right. 

It’s been nearly two years since you first slept together. 

You’re thinking back to the first time and the rush you’d felt when he’d leaned over casually on a group night out and tucked a lock of hair behind your ear.

He still makes you feel that way, if you’re being honest. 

You guess since you’ve never really dated that you’ve never seen anything that would take the shine off how you feel.

You’ve never seen him in holey sweatpants or with a shiny face or greasy hair or stuffing his face with yesterday’s takeout.

Well actually maybe you have seen that.

You’ve reached your door. 

You figure it’s now or never.

‘Come in, if you want,’ you say. 

He looks at you. ‘I don’t want to force anything because I was being an ass.’

‘Well, we’ve been fucking for two years,’ you remind him. 

You smile. ‘You can be an ass. You don’t have to be on your best behaviour all the time.’

Taehyung’s smile makes your heart skip a beat. 

You take your time unlocking your door, regaining your composure.

‘I’m taking a shower, there’s ice cream in the freezer,’ you tell Taehyung. 

He’s hanging his coat up in your entryway. You don’t think you’ve ever told him how much his fastidiousness about his clothes tickles you.

By the time you’re out of the shower, he’s on your couch, feet up, a steaming cup of tea and a tub of ice cream on the coffee table.

‘Here,’ he says. ‘I made you tea.’

You smile at him gratefully. 

‘How are you feeling?’ he asks. 

‘I’m fine,’ you tell him. You slide onto the couch next to him. ‘Want to watch a movie?’

‘If I get to pick,’ he says. 

‘Choose whatever you want.’

You sink back into the cushions as he picks the show, some feel good baseball movie. He grabs the blanket off the back of the couch and drapes it over the both of you, and when he slides his hand under the fleecy fabric to hold yours, you don’t pull away.

It feels good to hold him.

***

You’re checking your anaesthetic machine, drawing up drugs for your first case when the intern Jeon Jungkook bursts into your anaesthetic room like he’s just escaped the jaws of certain death.

‘Noona,’ he begs.

‘I’m not your —‘ 

You cut yourself off and sigh. ‘What do you want, Jeon Jungkook?’

‘I fucked up,’ he says, panicked.

‘Is that the medical term for it?’ you ask, cracking open a vial of antibiotics so he’ll get to the point.

‘I forgot to order the blood for the first patient.’

You roll your eyes. ‘So call blood bank, there’s time.’

‘I called them!’ he cries. ‘The patient has antibodies! They can’t have blood ready for another four hours!’

‘Oh shit,’ you say. 

Professor Kim Seokjin, chair of the hospital patient safety committee (awarded the national Clinical Excellence Award in 2022), is notorious for sticking to protocol. You know that he would never start a case if there wasn’t blood available.

You know just as well as Jeon Jungkook does, that he’s doomed. A cancelled case would tarnish Professor Kim Seokjin’s sterling reputation.

The little shit with the hot body is fucked. 

You both look up as the theatre doors open and Professor Kim Seokjin and Min Yoongi stroll in for the pre-op briefing.

Beside you, Jeon Jungkook whimpers.

‘Pull yourself together,’ you hiss.

Before he passes out with all his hyperventilating, you step forward. 

‘Dr Jeon and I were just discussing the order of today’s cases,’ you say, smoothly. ‘We think the first patient should go last, at the end of the day. They live quite far away and we should discharge them tomorrow anyway.’

Professor Kim Seokjin smiles. ‘Always thinking about the patients,’ he says, approving.

Min Yoongi eyes you and Jungkook suspiciously then visibly decides he doesn’t give enough of a fuck to question it. 

As soon as they’ve left you grab Jungkook by the neck of his scrubs top. 

‘Go and beg blood bank to guarantee you the blood will be available by the end of the day,’ you say. ‘I don’t care if you have to sleep with someone, just take care of it. Also, use protection.’ 

Jungkook’s throat works visibly with emotion. 

‘Noona, thank you for saving my ass,’ he says, bowing so low he nearly tips your drugs tray off the counter.

You sigh. ‘Just get it done, ok?’

‘I will,’ he promises. 

***

The annual staff party takes place in December, you go every year when you’re not working.

It’s not what you would call a classy affair, but there’s an unlimited free bar and a buffet table.

You’re trying not to get pulled onto the dancefloor by the overexcited Jung Hoseok when you see him.

Tall, dressed in a crisp shirt that makes his skin tone pop, wavy hair styled half over his forehead, he looks so good your mouth goes dry.

He’s already looking at you.

You send him a pleading look as last summer’s dance anthem comes on and you finally acquiesce.

Hoseok’s a great dancer, you’ll give him that, with an energy that’s infectious. You’re starting to enjoy it when Taehyung slides in smoothly behind you.

His body presses against yours, you get the sense he’s leaning closer, then his voice sounds in your ear.

Intimate like a caress.

‘You look really pretty,’ he says. 

You turn your head and he’s right there, lips curled in a smirk, head tilted to yours like it’s just the two of you.

You turn into his arms and his hand lands on the small of your back, an inch too low for polite company.

He dips his head low to whisper in your ear again, and you let him lead you off the dancefloor, into a darkened part of the room.

‘My place?’ he murmurs, eyes intent on yours, his tall frame leaning over you.

You curl a hand over his forearm, and he wraps a possessive arm around your waist to take you home.

***

Shit, Taehyung is hotter than you remember.

He’s splayed over his couch, tugging you down so you’re draped over his thick thighs, your skirt rucked up, his thick length throbbing against your core.

He lays a kiss right next to the corner of your mouth, teasing when you turn your head to try to kiss him.

He’s got a hand on your waist, another one curved over your breast, and he grunts when you rock your hips against his.

‘Fuck, when’s the last time we did this,’ he murmurs into your ear, voice thick, syllables running together in a honeyed drawl that makes you close your eyes.

‘Dunno, don’t make me wait,’ you complain, tugging at his shirt.

He doesn’t answer, kissing you again with an eagerness that let you know he wants this as much as you do.

He tastes like the chocolate mint he was sucking all the way to his apartment and he licks into your mouth in a way that makes your crave the feel of his cock plunging into you.

‘Tae,’ you moan.

His hand runs down your spine, tugs the zipper of your dress down, making your dress fall in a pool at your hips. He gazes at your breasts in the bra you picked out because you know he likes white lingerie.

He chews on his lower lip as he traces a finger over the upper curve of your breasts, then he lowers his mouth to you.

He unclasps your bra, helps you pull it off.

The way he admires your half naked body makes you feel like you’re burning up from the inside.

He pulls your hips closer, grinds a little against you, showing you he’s still hard as a rock, but he’s always been a patient man.

He kisses the soft curves of your tits until you’re whining his name the way he likes. By the time he sucks a nipple into the wet warmth of his mouth you’re barely aware of anything but him.

 He lays you down, gets on top of you, mouth still on your tits, hard cock jutting into the space between your legs, teasing.

You curl an arm around his neck, hanging on as he aligns the blunt head of his cock to your entrance and pushes in.

‘Fuck,’ you gasp. He fills you so well your eyes close with the pleasure of it.

He circles his hips on the next thrust, and you whine his name.

‘Gonna come on my cock?’ he asks, voice low, words coming out staccato as he keeps fucking you. 

‘Yeah, fuck, don’t stop,’ you moan. 

‘I won’t,’ he promises, curling a hand under your knee to keep you from scooting up the bed with every thrust.

Fuck, he’s strong.

He rolls his hips tight against yours, and you can feel your orgasm tingling through your toes, your pleasure centres lighting up each time he groans and moves deep inside you.

‘Tae,’ you pant.

‘Yeah,’ he grunts. ‘Hold on.’

He takes a moment to push your hair away from your face and give you a cocky smirk as though you couldn’t feel exactly how hard he is.

‘Gonna cum?’ 

‘Uh huh, don’t stop,’ you plead..

‘I won’t,’ he promises again. ‘Wanna feel you —‘

You cry his name as he grips your ass and you come.

‘Good girl,’ he praises, voice low, the tendons in his neck straining as he fucks you through it. 

‘Shit, I can feel you,’ he groans. ‘Fu—-uck.’

He’s coming himself, you realise, his movements slowing, his grip tightening on your ass almost to the point of pain.

He dips his head for another kiss, open mouthed and sloppy, tongues mingling as the tension drains from his body and he collapses on the bed next to you.

‘Are you squished?’ he asks, slurred, trying to disentangle your thighs from his.

You shake your head.

‘Don’t go far —‘

He laughs, affectionate. ‘Forgot how clingy you get. Gimme a sec, just get this —-‘

He breaks off. ‘Shit.’

‘What?’ you ask, trying to see.

‘Condom split,’ he tells you. 

‘Oh.’

You sit up, and there’s a tell-tale gush between your legs.

‘Yeah.’

You roll out of his bed, your legs like jelly still, and head for his bathroom.

A moment later he sticks his head round the door. 

‘You ok?’

Your eyes meet. 

‘Yeah.’

‘There’s a 24 hour pharmacy down the block,’ he says. He hesitates. ‘I haven’t slept with anyone since we last fucked.’

Despite the situation, you’re surprised. ‘Really?’

‘Have you?’

You use the bathroom and wash your hands. 

‘No.’

‘Shit, are we monogamous?’ Taehyung asks, sounding so incredulous about it you snicker. 

‘Shit, it’s like we’re a couple or something,’ you joke.

He hands you one of his sweatshirts to get dressed. 

‘Guess so,’ he agrees. ‘Do you even want to go to the pharmacy? We can have a baby. I like babies.’

You smile at him fondly. ‘You’re good with babies,’ you say. ‘But we can’t have a baby now.’

‘Honestly?’ he says, pulling his own clothes on. ‘Even talking about it is making me horny.’

You laugh as he passes you your panties. ‘Come on, let’s go, I’m hungry.’

Taehyung helps you on with your coat. 

‘Is my hair a mess?’ you ask.

‘Looks like you’ve been fucked,’ he advises. ‘Keep it that way so no one hits on you.’

‘You’re ridiculous,’ you scoff. ‘Who’s going to hit on me at the pharmacy?’

‘Who wouldn’t hit on you?’ he counters, sounding perfectly serious. ‘You’re hot.’

He locks his door and you head down to the main entrance of his building.

He slips his hand over yours so naturally you don’t realise what he’s doing until he’s holding your hand, and then you don’t want to let go.

***

It’s the week before Christmas and you’re in the staffroom having lunch with Namjoon as Hoyeon and Mina pass out the secret santa gifts.

‘Here’s yours,’ Hoyeon announces brightly, passing you a silver paper bag 

You accept with a nod and thanks, pulling out the card.

‘Thank you for being you, love Santa,’ you read out loud.

Namjoon rolls his eyes. ‘Christmas is a soulless commercial holiday.’

‘Ok, atheist,’ you say, rolling your eyes back at him.

‘I’m agnostic,’ he mutters.

You unwrap your gift and stop, frowning, at the duck’s egg blue box.

‘Wasn’t there a cost limit?’ 

You lift the lid to reveal a pair of sparkly earrings. 

‘That’s at least a carat each,’ Hoyeon observes.

‘This can’t be right,’ you say.

‘Do you like them, noona?’ asks the intern Jeon Jungkook, popping up from out of nowhere.

You and Namjoon stare at him open-mouthed.

‘Are you my secret santa?’ you ask.

He nods eagerly. ‘I was so happy to get you.’

‘There was a gift cost limit,’ you protest.

‘I don’t know how much they cost, I just put it on my black card,’ he admits.

You’re still staring at him.

‘Jesus fuck,’ observes Yoongi from somewhere behind you. ‘What in the name of blood diamonds—‘

‘They’re ethically sourced!’ says Jeon Jungkook, indignant.

‘No diamonds are ethically sourced,’ Yoongi says, pityingly. ‘Anyway there was a gift cost limit. She can’t accept.’

Jungkook pouts.

‘They’re beautiful, but Yoongi’s right, Jungkook,’ you say gently. ‘Besides, you can’t afford —‘

‘My family own the hospital,’ Jungkook tells you, earnestly. ‘And a few others too, and Sharpcor.’

Now Yoongi’s staring at him too. ‘Your family own the biggest pharmaceutical conglomerate in South Korea?’

Hoyeon whistles. 

Namjoon splutters. ‘You left a pair of diamond earrings in a random gift pile in the staffroom?’

‘Not the point,’ you and Yoongi say in unison.

‘Who knew the intern was chaebol,’ remarks Hoyeon. She pats him reassuringly on the shoulder. ‘So handsome, too.’

Hoyeon smiles at you. ‘Almost as handsome as Kim Taehyung.’

Namjoon chokes on his lunch.

‘You and Taehyung?’ he asks, incredulous.

‘Where have you fucking been?’ Yoongi asks, scornful. 

He turns to you. ‘This is why I don’t trust him to carry my coffee stuff.’

‘Anyway, I wanted to thank you for helping me out the other day,’ Jungkook says. ‘And if Taehyung ever treats you badly you should tell me.’

He narrows his eyes. 

‘I’ll take care of him for you, noona,’ he vows. 

‘Uh, thanks?’

‘Where’s my secret santa gift?’ Namjoon asks, looking through the pile.

‘Working with me is its own reward,’ comes the silken tones of Professor Kim Seokjin, awardee of the ‘Trainer of the Year’ award for five years running as voted for by SNU medical trainees. 

Kim Seokjin smiles kindly at you. ‘Nice earrings.’

***

You’re sitting at the ICU hub validating your observations from the last case when a shadow falls over you. You look up automatically to see Kim Taehyung.

‘Hey,’ he says, that smirk on his face that you’ll never admit to him is fucking hot.

‘Hey,’ you say, casual.

He leans over the screen of your computer. ‘So I figured —‘

He’s cut off by Ara, one of the ICU nurses.

‘Thank you for my secret santa present,’ she says, smiling at him warmly.

‘How did you know it was him?’ you ask, signing the last of your prescriptions.

‘We talked about how much I love cats,’ she replies, looking up shyly.

Taehyung smiles. ‘It was me. I’m glad you liked your present.’

‘I wondered, if you’re not too busy later, if you wanted to go to the cat cafe we were talking about?’ Ara asks.

Taehyung glances at you. ‘Actually, Ara —‘

He pauses like he’s waiting for you to jump in.

You’re logged off, all done, but waiting to see where this goes.

‘I’m kind of seeing someone,’ he finishes.

You get up, and Taehyung follows you out of the ICU. 

‘Why didn’t you say anything?’ he complains, as soon as you’re out of Ara’s earshot.

‘Like what?’ you ask.

‘Like how we fucked three times last night?’

You both fall silent as Nurse Choi passes by pretending not to have heard.

‘Why would that stop you from going to the cat cafe with Ara?’ you ask. 

You’ve spoken thoughtlessly, and as soon as the words leave your lips you realise how collossally stupid they are. 

Of course you care if Taehyung goes on a date with Ara. 

It’s too late to take them back. 

Taehyung stares at you, brows drawn together. 

‘Unbelievable,’ he says. 

You’re hurt, but you don’t know what to say to salvage the awful wrong turn this conversation’s taken. 

For once, your quick mind fails you, and whilst you’re clicking through how to fix this, Taehyung’s turned away. 

‘You know what, I don’t want to do this,’ he tells you. 

He lifts his gaze to yours. ‘I thought we were finally getting somewhere, you know? What was the point of us these two years?’ 

He doesn’t wait for an answer, which is fine, because you can’t give one. 

As he walks away you already know you’re making the biggest mistake you’ve made lately in letting him go. 

***

Yoongi sighs, exaggerated. 

‘Did you start your Christmas drinking early or what?’

‘Huh?’ you ask, blankly. 

‘You’re one short step from getting thrown out of my anaesthetic room,’ Yoongi says, a sharpness to his tone he doesn’t normally use with you. 

You struggle to focus on the monitoring in front of you. 

‘Sorry, I haven’t been sleeping well,’ you apologise. 

‘Next time you have a bad day, do us both a favour and call in sick,’ Yoongi says. ‘This patient is relying on us to keep him alive and under anaesthesia for his operation, and at this rate, you’re not going to achieve that.’ 

You take a step back at his harsh words. 

‘I’m sorry, I’ll call in Namjoon,’ you say hurriedly. 

‘Leave the —’

Yoongi breaks off as you pick up the glass bottle of acetaminophen. ‘I told you it was broken,’ he says. 

You stare blindly at the cut on your hand from the glass shard of the broken bottle. 

‘Fuck. I’m so sorry. I’ll get Namjoon,’ you say. 

‘No. Sit the fuck down,’ Yoongi says sternly, tossing you a pack of swabs to mop up the bleeding. ‘Watch the monitoring until I get back, and if the patient’s tube falls out you’re damn well going to snap gloves on and reintubate him, cut hand or not.’ 

You daren’t disagree. 

You tie a swab around your bleeding hand and force yourself back into the routine you’ve developed over the years you’ve been training with Yoongi. 

Patient. 

Monitoring. 

Lines. 

You run through all three checks in a loop until you hear the door to the anaesthetic room swing open behind you. 

‘The patient’s stable,’ you call, not turning around. 

‘I know they are,’ comes Yoongi’s voice. ‘Go get your hand stitched up.’ 

You turn and instead of Namjoon you see Taehyung. 

You look at Yoongi, betrayed. 

He’s staring back at you, face impassive. 

‘Do you think I actually need help? I’ve been giving anaesthesia since before you could even draw a propofol molecule,’ he says, dryly. ‘Go get your hand stitched up.’ 

Taehyung’s looking at you, but he hasn’t moved from his spot near the door. 

‘It might not need stitches,’ you protest. 

‘Why don’t you let the surgeon decide,’ Yoongi suggests. ‘Get the fuck out of my anaesthetic room. I expect you back here next week at your usual level of competence.’ 

He turns his back on you so you have no choice but to follow Taehyung into the next room. 

Taehyung runs the tap so you can hold your hand under the stream of water. 

‘Just keep it under there,’ he says. ‘I’ll get some local and sutures ready.’ 

You watch the blood from your cut run into the sink and try to gather your composure as he gathers things behind you. 

You haven’t spoken to Taehyung since your awful encounter a week ago. You’d called him, but he hadn’t answered, so you’d left it at that. 

You’re wondering if you should turn around when he approaches you with a swab. 

‘Here, hold your arm up,’ he says quietly. 

You bend your elbow to keep your hand above your heart as you take a seat on the trolley. 

Taehyung gestures for you to lower your hand onto the tray he’s set up. 

He pulls up a stool across from you, and you look away. 

‘There’s a shard of glass still in here,’ he tells you. ‘I’ll give you some local and take it out. You’ll probably need a couple stitches.’ 

‘Ok,’ you say. 

You flinch at the sting of the needle, but he’s so gentle you don’t feel much more than that. 

This close, the familiarity of his cologne and the warmth of his touch make you miss him so much it makes you want to cry. 

You still can’t look at him. 

He’s quiet as he works on your hand. 

Finally, he says, ‘All done.’ 

You risk a look at your hand to see a line of beautiful neat stitches, just before he covers it with a dressing. 

‘Thanks,’ you say. You look up to meet his gaze. 

He leans forward and kisses you on your forehead, so quickly you don’t have time to react. 

‘Take the stitches out in a week,’ he says. 

He hesitates. ‘I can take them out for you, but if it’s easier, any of the nurses can help you.’ 

‘Tae,’ you say. 

He’s already getting up, tidying up the tray. ‘Just a sec.’ 

You wait for him after he’s left the room, but soon enough it’s clear that he’s not coming back.

***

‘You didn’t even dress this smartly when you interviewed for your fellowship,’ Yoongi observes from somewhere behind you.

You jump.

‘Jesus, don’t sneak up on me like that!’

Yoongi looks unperturbed, sucking on a vape that violates all of the hospital’s policies.

You remind him of that and he just snorts. ‘Technically we’re on university grounds.’

‘The real question is why you’re hanging around hiding behind a fern at the surgical appraisals,’ Yoongi remarks.

‘I’m not hiding,’ you say, sulky.

Yoongi mutters something that sounds like ‘fucking Kim Taehyung.’

You don’t bother asking him to repeat himself, because you’ve spotted him.

Before you can make yourself overthink it, you step out, right into Kim Taehyung’s path.

He steps back, startled, his hand automatically reaching to steady you.

‘Are you ok? Did I bump into you?’

‘No,’ you say, ‘I just wanted to say good luck for your appraisal.’

His smile is immediate. ‘You remembered. Thank you.’

You’re so busy drinking in how good he looks in a suit that it takes you a moment to realise he’s just asked you a question.

‘My hand?’

He holds out his hand, palm out, and you put your hand in his automatically.

He looks like he’s holding back a smile. ‘I think it was the other one,’ he says, so seriously you can’t be embarrassed.

He traces a gentle finger over your healing scar.

‘It looks like it’s healing nicely,’ he observes. His fingers curl around yours in a gentle squeeze, then he lets go.

‘Thanks for stitching me up,’ you say.

You both look up as his name is called.

‘Good luck,’ you say, quickly.

He looks like he wants to say something else, but in the end he just nods.

***

It’s 10am on Christmas day, and you’ve never been a grinch but your Christmas spirit is already running low.

So far you’ve extubated two patients on the ICU, one of whom promptly pulled out his art line, dousing you and Nurse Choi in AB positive, and the only fresh scrubs left in the dispenser were three times too large for you.

You sigh as you roll up your scrubs bottoms so they aren’t dragging on the floor as you head to theatres to answer your latest call.

You’re greeted by a rush of activity.

‘There’s an offer,’ announces Hoyeon as you enter the anaesthetic meeting room.

‘Heart or lungs?’ you ask.

‘It’s a heart, from Jeju-do.’

‘Where’s the recipient?’ you ask. 

‘Arriving in an hour,’ says Yoongi, briskly. ‘Go have lunch, it’s going to be a late night.’

It’s 10 am, but you know that with the logistics of all the pre-heart transplant tests, harvesting the donor heart and prepping the recipient, you’ll be busy for hours.

You head to the staffroom to bolt your lunch only to find Taehyung already there.

He glances at your sandwich and pushes one of his bowls towards you. ‘I brought extra,’ he says. 

‘Thanks,’ you say.

You eat in silence seated opposite each other.

Eventually he says, ‘Didn’t they have any scrubs in your size?’ 

‘I like the baggy look,’ you reply, deadpan.

You realise he’s lifting his own scrubs top off. 

‘Here, let’s swap. It’s closer to your size.’

You stand and he steps between you and the staffroom door to shield you from the view of anyone walking in.

‘Don’t worry, I won’t look,’ he says. There’s a teasing note in his voice.

You pull your top off and pass it to him, then slip his top on. 

It smells like him. 

‘Did you look?’ you ask, looking up at him.

He reaches to help you pull your hair out from the back of the top. 

‘Of course I did,’ he says, and he sounds so offended that you would even check that you can’t help giggling.

‘I miss you,’ you say, the words coming so naturally you don’t realise what you’ve said until his eyebrows lift slightly.

He doesn’t give you any time to worry. ‘I’ve missed you too,’ he tells you.

You exchange a smile, the first in a long time.

There’s exaggerated throat clearing from behind Taehyung.

‘There’s a patient waiting to get a new heart, but you guys take your time,’ says Yoongi, wielding his sarcasm like a whole other language. ‘It’s fine.’

***

You’re titrating pressors on the patient from Jeju-do as Park Jimin dissects down the major vessels and veins. 

In the adjoining theatre, you can see Yoongi, Taehyung and Professor Kim Seokjin (Executive Chair of the National Blood and Transplant Committee 2021-2024) waiting with the recipient.

Jimin looks up at you. 

‘About to explant,’ he says.

‘I’ve got you,’ you reply.

You watch, awed as always, as the donor heart is placed in a saline bath and rolled towards the adjoining theatre. 

Namjoon, beside you, takes over the haemodynamics and Jimin goes back to operating. You know that between them they’ll treat the donor with the honour their choice deserves.

For now, you head towards the next theatre to help Yoongi. 

Jung Hoseok’s running a spotless circuit, the recipient’s already on bypass, and the heart looks good to go.

As Taehyung and Professor Kim Seokjin (founder of the non-profit Healing Hearts that provides surgical expertise to low-income countries) remove the original heart and begin the long process of suturing the new graft in, there’s a quiet that’s uncharacteristic of operating theatre 1b.

You can’t help but admire how beautiful Taehyung looks when he’s like this, his face composed under his loupes, his hands moving with a grace and sureness that’s lovely to watch.

Yoongi and you swap each other out as the operation goes on, until just before midnight when the last of the graft sutures goes in. 

There aren’t any barriers between you and the surgeons, not tonight at least. 

‘I think we’re good,’ Kim Seokjin says, with a quiet simplicity you rarely ever hear from him. 

‘Good,’ Yoongi says, absent his usual snark.

Taehyung releases the aortic cross clamp, and as you watch, the newly transplanted heart fills with blood.

Then, it starts to beat.

Your eyes meet Taehyung’s, and you can see his smile even under the mask, your brain filling in the parts of his face you know so well.

You’re smiling back.

You think everything’s going to be all right.

***

It’s a couple hours later, when you’ve dropped off the patient on the ICU, and are heading to the locker room, that you hear your name called.

It’s Taehyung, a line on his forehead from where he was wearing a scrubs hat all day, eyes a little bloodshot from fatigue, and still the most beautiful thing you’ve seen this Christmas. 

He stops in front of you, there’s a moment of silence and then both of you speak at once.

You both stop, and you reach for his hand.

‘Do you want to grab some food?’ you ask. 

‘Like a date?’ Taehyung asks, but he’s lit up like a Christmas tree so you think he already knows.

‘Yeah, like a date,’ you say.

The way he’s looking at you makes you wonder why the hell you waited so long.

‘There’s nothing I’d like more,’ he says. 

He knits his fingers through yours, gently, and you walk down through the hospital together.

end.

Happy holidays! Take it easy. Love, Rei xx

[ihatedtoadmit]

Art study

pairing: Bang Chan x gn! reader

genre: ...suggestive

warnings: nothing actually happens, so none besides teasing

word count: ~1.3k

summary: You're doing an art study on muscles, and who's a better candidate for reference than your wonderful boyfriend who keeps feeding his delulu fanbase with half-naked pictures?

a/n: Well well well, Nat, you don't have to pay to see me write something like this after all (if you will ever see this, because no chance am I tagging you or anyone, dear). Here, have fun, this is the most spice anyone can get out of my asexual ass.

↳ Main Masterlist

All rights reserved. Please do not steal, repost or feed my work into AI. Thank you!

You were a very reserved person, something your partner knew all too well. Every touch the two of you shared throughout the entirety of your relationship had no heat behind it, each one only fueled by pure adoration and love. Never once did a kiss turn hungry, hell, there had barely been any kisses the two of you had shared due to your lack of need for the action. Chan knew it all too well, and while he craved more, he also respected it. The last thing he wanted to do was to make you uncomfortable, and so he’d never stepped over that line.

That was the exact reason for his current shyness, the confusion that wanted to sit onto his face hard to mask. There he stood in your doorway, the desk before your hunched form cluttered with pencils and little crumbs of dirty erasers. You were entirely too focused on the task at hand to notice your boyfriend's presence, the song that flowed through your headphones much too loud to hear any footsteps or even words. And so you continued drawing, clueless about anything as your lover watched you work, eyes flitting between your sketch and the endless reference pictures on your screen.

Pictures about him, his back fully on display and unclothed.

A touch broke you out of your concentration as you erased a line for the fourth time, scaring you into throwing away the pencil in your clutches just so you could tear the headphones off your head.

“Interesting art you have there, love.” - Chan mused, yet his skin was as flushed as ever.

You joined him as you could feel your own skin heating up, ashamed that you’d been caught like this. Eyes looked at everything besides your boyfriend, yet you found comfort in that warm touch of his.

“I was just… doing a study, on muscles.” - the words were but a mere whisper, hand quickly reaching to minimise your browser and just hide it from a certain pair of prying eyes.

Still, there was a feeling clawing at the cage of your soul, ripping at the flesh to be let out and rampage freely. It was feral and vicious, planting a thought into your head that seemed impossible to get out, no matter how alien it felt. You could feel your breath hitch at the image that popped into your head, memories of the images you had been staring at for a while now overlapping.

The hand on your shoulder gently squeezed, breaking you out of your derailing thoughts.

“I don't mind, baby, it just… caught me off guard? Glad you enjoyed my performances though.” - Chan’s voice was light, mixing well with the shyness he was trying to hide.

It only urged that fierceness inside to break free, granting you a surge of confidence you would have never had otherwise.

Without any words you finally glanced up at the man you loved, finding him utterly handsome; you would hone your artistic skills for the rest of your life just to capture a fragment of that beauty. His skin was dusted with a faint red, ears painted by the deepest of shades. Those eyes you loved to get lost in were alight with an emotion you had seen them only hold whenever he looked at the boys, and it took your breath away within a heartbeat.

Your body moved on its own, towering over him as you now stood. His hair was still slightly wet from the shower he must have just taken, and you just knew he had been originally on his way to his room to swap his bathrobe for those comfy, black clothes he loved to don in his free time.

He searched your gaze, unsure, yet trusting. His hands comfortably placed themselves onto your hips; their touch was warm, the man before you always running hot. It was something you loved as he balanced out your always cold hands wonderfully, reaching the perfect temperature you both enjoyed.

“Hey, love. How was work today?” - you asked, leaning closer than usual as you swiped those dark curls out of Chan’s face. He leaned into your touch, eyes closing for a second as he thought about his answer.

“The usual, although Hyunjin managed to piss off Minho again. It was a shoe this time that was the weapon, by the way.” - there was an airiness of joy to his words, yet no laugh accompanied it.

No, Chan was entirely too enamoured with the look you were giving him, as if you were worshipping him with your eyes alone. And maybe you were. With each look you studied the way your lover's skin moved, the shadows conforming accordingly. It lured you in, as if Chan was the siren and you were his prey, fated to be drowned in the vast oceans and seas.

He didn't move as you took him all in, hands eventually unable to keep themselves away. Your fingers were cold against the warmth of his fair skin, and you could hear his breath hitch, the muscles inside his neck moving beautifully.

There was something different in your touch, that much he knew, yet he wouldn't have it any other way.

As if you had never seen anything like it before, your hands glided over any free expanse of skin you could reach, memorising how the muscles hidden beneath curved and jumped at your touch. Never once did your eyes stray, wanting to remember every little detail. You wanted your art to be perfect, after all, to represent the real thing as closely as possible and that meant every little detail in their complete glory.

Your eyebrows furrowed as the white robe blocked you off, and so you slightly slid it off from one of Chan's shoulders. His hold on you tightened and you glanced at him briefly, seeing an intensity burning in those dark eyes, one you had never seen before.

You were playing with fire, and you could feel the heat of the danger.

Despite the clear wanting signs, you ignored them much like Icarus, hands now gliding down your lover's arm. Each touch held meaning, praising him in silence, singing odes about this man’s beauty. There was something so intriguing about watching the muscles connect to skin and bone, oh so perfectly toned and reacting to every touch of yours.

You stepped even closer, breaths mingling together as you reached into his robe, mapping out the vast skin of your partner's back. Every dip, every rise and imperfection was noted inside your head, the scorching star in Chan's eyes only growing in intensity as time passed. Your eyes flitted between those deadly stars and his neck, seeing it strain, muscles so tight that they jumped out of the skin in that lovely V-shape you could never grow bored of.

Then, as if something snapped, he gripped your waist with incredible force, not giving you a chance to escape. Despite that, no fear took residence inside you, your now warm fingers still laid peacefully on his shoulders.

“And what do I owe this extremely special moment to, baby?” - his words were a deep rumble, eyes begging for an answer with desperation.

“For being the most beautiful human to grace this planet, my wonderful love. Be my muse, please. Let me draw you, let me study you.” - you answered, one hand now cupping Chan's cheek tenderly, despite the uniquely heated situation.

As if that was the magic word to undo his binding, your lover moved, hauling your taller form easily onto the bed with him. There you were now, sat on his lap as he looked up at you expectantly, the intensity and love never diminishing in those bright eyes of his. Your sketchbook was still sitting beside you on the bed where you had originally thrown it at, hands itching to take it and immortalise what you had engraved into your mind in the past few minutes.

“I'll be your muse whenever, baby. All you needed to do was ask.”

[love-bitesx]

was booking myself a new tattoo and this is all i could think of ! this is just brainrot ramble

: ̗̀➛ hobie brown x gn!reader - giving him tattoos (and yourself)

thinking about giving hobie sweet little tattoos with a makeshift stick and poke set up. he'd come home drunk one night, slurring his words and holding you close to him, ranting about how he wants you to give him a tattoo (and something about not wanting to pay big corporations for a real tattoo gun). even if you’re not creative, he just wants to be able to look at his skin and see evidence of you, always. you refuse him at the time, telling him he's too drunk and he'll regret it. but when it's the next day, and he's stone cold sober, you walk in on him hunched over the kitchen table, making a little stick and poke creation.

so, it’s late at night, he’s sprawled out across your bed like it was his, his head and shoulders pressed into the headboard, eyes trained on you. straddling his lap, you held his arm up to the lamp, tongue stuck out in concentration. hobie winced everytime the needle met his skin, his free hand gripping at your thigh to outlet the pain. when you're done, and he's all cleaned up, he's lit up with pride, constantly checking his arm in different lights to see your design. "it's perfect, darlin'," he mutters, his lips pressed to your forehead.

he’d very rarely ever wear sleeves again after that, always having your design on show to remind him of you when he’s away. not that he needed it, you always had a comfortable seat in the front of his mind. he’d show it off to his friends, though, all the time.

"oi, pav!" he'd call out to his friend, drawing his attention over to his exposed skin.

"you got a tattoo!" pav would exclaim, hopping over and inspecting it closely.

“my partner did it,” he couldn’t mask the grin from fuzzing his cheeks, “fuckin' sick, right?”

his heart wasn't even prepared for what he'd come home to that night. when he'd climb in through your window, shedding his spider-apparel and kicking his boots off by your dresser, he'd notice your sleeping form. smiling to himself, picking up the sheets and climbing into the empty space, careful not to startle you – not that it would, you were more used to waking up beside him than alone.

his hands wouldn't be able to stop themselves from touching you, needing to feel your skin beneath his fingertips, and beaming at the sleepy sound of his name leaving your lips. when his hands find your hip, however, you jump and groan in pain. he'd pull you to him.

"'the fuck 'appened?" he'd whisper, careful not to touch the area again, but be confused at your reaction.

"tattoo," is all he could catch, through your tired, and possibly pained, groans.

"you what?" he'd mutter, and lift the covers back, hiking up your his t-shirt to expose a tiny black design, sitting on the skin above your hip bone.

etched into you was a tiny spider, hand drawn and adorned with little spikes, similar to his persona. he'd be so taken aback, he wouldn't even know what to say.

"'s'this for me, sweetheart?" his fingers would very lightly ghost the dark outlines, honing into your body's reaction to it, steering clear of the painful areas. he's close to you, very close, and you can feel his heart pounding against his chest.

"mhmm," you moan, your brain finally pulling itself from slumber, warm in the smell of him, tangling your arms around his neck, "all for you."

"fuckin' ell," he breathed before kissing you with such a passion you'd never felt from him before. he was drowning in you, head buzzed at the thought of something of him being on your skin forever, and you on his. heart pouring, he reached for you in every way he could.

he'd be obsessed with both of the tattoos, strongly encouraging you to never ever wear anything high-waisted again, so long as he steered away from sleeves. pride and happiness overtook him when he'd see you with other people, in public or with friends, and see the black ink peek through your clothes, knowing that it was for him, and nobody else.

he just loved you a lot, and he adores the permanent reminders.

[ang3lofdivinity]

❝𝐘𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐬𝐮𝐧❞

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

Relationship(s): Yan!Andy (Andrew) Graves x Fem!reader

Format: Headcanons + stories.

Genre: IMPLIED Smut + fluff + some angst(?)

Warnings: Consent mf, intimidation, SA from one of the wardens to the reader, masturbation (reader and Andy), Leyley isn't super overprotective, Reader is very naïve and too kind (they consider all friends), kidnapping, stalking, Andy is kinda turned on by the readers constant praise and nicknames for him, smoking, swearing, smut has been removed because.. the more I realize it I want this account to be decently fluff.

Andy is a very reserved person.

He's an introvert as per what his sister calls him.

And she's right.

He doesn't like being around others, he's pretty logical, he's also very calm.

But, what he doesn't know is how charming he is to others.

Hell, bunches of girls try and get with him, while Leyley obnoxiously tries to get rid of them all.

So, he's never really had a long term relationship with anyone aside his sister.

And over the years, he's managed to craft, a meticulously created one, a façade.

A mask he's worked on for years.

One that he knows will never crack.

But perhaps he got too confident.

Because when you came along, he was restraining himself practically from getting excited after the first time he saw you.

He saw you, being the new kid in class back when he was still in school at a young age before being trapped in that hellscape he called his home.

You were an extrovert it seemed, turning out to be the opposite. But, you still cared a lot about everything and everyone, you introduced yourself sweetly with something along the lines of..

"Good morning, I'm (____) (_____). If you need anything, I'll always be right here."

You were so calm, so pretty.. how could someone be so pretty?

You joined a bunch of after school activities, student council and such.

Although, you seemed a bit worried over something always every time he saw you.

He felt something within his stomach churn whenever he saw you though, not managing to gather enough courage to talk to you.

So, you had to initiate the contact.

You saw him, being all lonely..

That made you feel incredibly horrible, you were in that position yourself once too.

So, you approached him.

And his heart fluttered.

"Good evening.. you're Andrew Graves, right?" You inquired as you sat beside him at his lunch table as your friends immediately started whispering to each other.

"Oh- I- I'm Andrew Graves, yes.." he cringed at his own stuttering, but you didn't seem to mind.

"Why don't you come and sit at my table with my friends?" You invited him with a warm smile.

He felt butterflies in his stomach, a feeling he never had in a while..

"Are- you sure? They won't make fun of me?.." he asked, obviously worried.

"Of course not! If they do, we can have lunch together alone if you want!"

"..alright."

That was the day he became so clingy to you.

Usually, he's very cynical. But, for some reason with you.. he could feel that your actions were very genuine.

And that's what got him attached.

Along with your humor.

"I swear to fucking goddess if Miss Alta keeps telling me to not draw, I will—"

"Good morning, Miss Alta!" You exclaimed happily the moment your communications teacher stepped foot into the room.

He almost wheezed, letting out a giggle at his failed attempt to restrain himself. His expression turned into one filled with guilt and embarrassment, but before Miss Alta or any of the students spoke, you blurted out.

"Ah, Miss Alta, there's something wrong with the air conditioning. It keeps moving a bit and making that scraping noise." You semi-lied as you turned to Andrew and gave a more sincere smile before paying attention once more.

..you would just, lie for him like that..

Your smile could make him go crazy, it couldn't be compared to anything!! The way you cried, your tears streaming down your cheeks as you ran to him when you got hurt on the playground earlier- blue diamonds couldn't even compare to the richness of them, and the way you were very touchy..

You always held onto his hand, holding onto his shirt as you walked behind him anxiously, anytime when you got older and watched any horror movie and clang onto him.

That's when it all went to shit.

You had to leave the state.

THE STATE.

After you had just got settled after the last time where you moved here as a child!

He almost broke down, wanting to pour out all of his feelings as if it would change anything.

But it was official, and Leyley had him all to herself. It was like that for years.

He was all alone.

He felt empty.

He felt empty without you.

Like a part of his soul was torn from him.

And that stuck with him forever.

Some sort of dark, black tar over his heart made it feel disgusting and filthy.

But for the lonely part..

It wasn't like that for long.

When they grew older, he started dating someone after so long.

His (ex) girlfriend, Julia.

But eventually, that all ended when he got put into that quarantined building with Leyley.

She broke it off with him on one of those nights.

He sobbed about it, and Leyley didn't help.

But, that's when he got a strange phone call when Leyley was asleep and he was still up.

He was hesitant, but his gut told him to pick it up.

And that he did.

And that was one of the best decisions of his life.

"..Hello?" He spoke, his voice raspy. He was unsure of what telemarketer would be calling at this hour, and it couldn't possibly be someone he knew.

"Andrew?.. is this really you?!.."

That voice.. that voice instead changed his mind of this being some sort of telemarketer.. how? Because that’s your voice. After so many years, you had called him!

"..(____)?!" He yelped out, almost loud enough to wake LeyLey.

"Oh dear— I'm so glad I can hear your sweet voice again!!" You exclaimed, sounding like you were on the brink of tears.

All of those previous feelings he had for you back when you were still around, they all came back in a flurry, overwhelming him.

"(____), I'm.. how did you get this number?.." he wanted to ask you so much more, but that's all that came out at the moment.

"I heard about the quarantine you got into with your sister.. I'm so sorry. One of the wardens was kind enough to give me your number! I didn't have much time previously due to my work.. but, now I have and I'm so thankful!"

"..Good god it's so nice hearing your voice again, (____)" he mumbled, smiling as tears prickled at his eyes. There were so many words that wanted to spill out of his mouth, but nothing came out due to his own self restraint.

"I'm going to get you out of there! I promise! You and your sister!" You yelped out, happiness laced into your voice. You were zeal about this, you were going to get him and his sister out of here. Or at least try.

"Wait- aren't you worried about the wardens??? They've been keeping us here!" He responded back, biting on his thumb.

"Eh?? Nah! I'm sure! The warden seemed to like me, I'm sure I can persuade him somehow." For some reason, this didn't sit right with him..

"..." He went radio silent, this feeling akin to foreboding surging through him with the sense of anger as well. But, he swallowed down his frustration and took some deep breaths.

"Andy- Andrew?.. you there?" You tried to fix your mistake. You heard his sister call him by that nickname once- so you know it's at least somewhat gotta be sentimental for him.

"..you can call me Andy" he slowly spoke up.

"Are you sure?.."

"I'm.. sure. Call me Andy." It almost sounded like a demand..

"..Alright, Andy."

He doesn't even let his own sister call him that anymore, but he lets you do it with free reign.. strange.

"Now, would you like to talk for a bit?.. or should I get straight to work with the pla-"

"Talk!.. please. I just.. I missed you. I missed listening to your voice, I missed just being with you.." he blurted out, cutting you off. He put a hand over his mouth in response, his eyes wide and filled with shame.

"..."

"..."

"...."

"I'm sorry- that probably sounded weird.." he spoke up after a long moment of silence.

"Nono! Don't apologize, I missed hearing your voice too, hun." You spoke sweetly to him, a smile he couldn't see plastered on your face.

"..Hun?" Saying the word made him feel this warm, bubbling sensation within his chest. It made him want to indulge in it more..

"I'm not gonna use Andy all the time, darling!" You giggled happily, and that just made something within his stomach churn and twist.. something that has been dormant for years finally stir.

It made his knees go weak, his mouth go slightly agape as he failed to make any words come out of his mouth for a while until you spoke.

"..Andy? Honey?"

"Oh- sorry just.. deep in thought.”

"Ah, I get that.. well anyways, what would you like to talk about?"

You two talked until the sun finally rose and you got sleepy.

"Night Andy, Hun!" He could hear you yawn.

"Night, (____).."

He then placed the phone back down, hanging up shortly after you did as he found himself already yearning and missing your voice.

But, he knows.. better.

He just can’t help it though.

..No matter, he’ll hopefully be able to see you soon as you said.

That would be wrong though.

Because guess what? That warden that was so kind to you was only there for your looks. He wanted you to have some.. “personal time” with you if you get my gist.

“No fucking way you creep!!” You yelped out, this man was about twice your age and asking you to have some personal time with you.

“C’mon, sweetheart!.. I promise I’ll make it worth your while” The warden spoke, a sickening smile on his face.

“No means no, pervert!! Now, let me see my friends, let me get them out of here!” The warden groaned at your response.

“Alright, look here sweet-cheeks. You aren’t gonna be able to save your friends and I shouldn’t even be helping you. So, you either let me have you and you can take your friends, or I kill you right here and now” the man gave you an ultimatum, causing your eyes to widen.

“I..” You almost bursted out into tears when the man moved his hands to your shoulders, lowering your shirt.

“Lemme take care of ya.” he hummed, pushing you against the table within the break room, tears pooling down your cheeks.

You then tried focusing on something else, noticing the fact he had a ring of keys on his belt..

The warden had a hand glide up your thigh, massaging the bundle of nerves there. You tensed, straining back any noises that would come out of your mouth.

“No need to hold back, sweetheart..” he pressed himself closer to you, this was your time to strike!

You punched the man in the face, causing him to stumble back. You fixed your clothes, jumping off the table, you stared at the man who was waddling around like an idiot. A huff escaped past your lips as grabbed the nearest blunt object and flung it at the man. It was a simple lamp, but it hit him real good in the head. Honestly, you felt powerful in that moment, finding the courage to continuously punching the man, letting out every last string of anger that you felt. It was basically free therapy! And, when you were done, he was no longer moving. You grabbed the keys before you marched off, now off to find Andy and his sister, Ashley!

It took you a bit, but after knocking on a few doors, you heard nothing but some shuffling.

“Andy!! Its me! (____)!!” You yelped out, taking out the ring of keys as you fumbled with them in your hands.

“..(____)!? You actually came!?!” He spoke up after hearing your voice, immediately rushed over to the door as he heard you unlock it, opening it for you, taking you by surprise.

“Of course, hun! I never break a promise.” You spoke more dulcetly, a smile upon your face as you looked up at him.

He’s.. grown taller than you.

He spent no time dawdling as he hugged you, pressing you close to him as he twirled you around.

“I’m proud of you for waiting this long. So proud.” You praised, causing Andrew to become flustered as he desperately tried hiding it.

You paused for a moment before you started giggling a bit.

“What.. whats so funny??” He asked

“Nothing. Just reminiscing of the old times.”

“..you’re talking like a grandma.”

You bursted out laughing, patting his back.

“Oh— really now? ‘Just be a good boy and be quiet!’ Is that better??” You were giggling, since you knew your words made any sense for some Grandma to say, but he wasn’t taking this as a joke. The way you called him a good boy..

It.. turned something on for him, craving for more practically.

“Okay I think thats enough mushy reunion stuff, mm?” You smiled sweetly at the boy as he pulled away from the hug, his face still slightly flushed.

“Yeah..” he internally cursed himself for almost stuttering.

“Where’s Ashley?..” you quietly asked.

From that moment, everything happened like some sort of descending spiral of madness. The thing with the demon and Ashley… killing the second warden, all of that fancy stuff. (being horribly mortified in the end.)

You had the both of them stay in the motel for a while until you could bring them into your home as you got them necessities; paying for them to continue staying, getting them new clothes, food, entertainment and others (not even knowing about their little hobby together.)

You’d visit once a week, much to Andrews begging for you to come more often, constant thanks as well from him.

“..I don’t think we can repay you ever for this.”

You always said it was fine, and his sister did too. She seemed more laid backed about the entire situation.

And, when you rushed in the middle of the night to their motel in your car to tell them the news that you finished up your work for their rooms and such, only throwing on a long overcoat, keeping on your nightclothes and throwing one some slippers.

..but they weren’t in there.

“PSSSTTT” the sound almost made you scream, but you turned to the cause of the noise.

“Ashley!” You smiled, not speaking above a whisper.

“Get over here!!!” You immediately rushed over to her without another question, taking her into an embrace.

“Woah- calm down, goody-two-shoes!” She grumbled, trying to get you to let go or at least loosen your arms that were tightly wrapped around her.

“You and Andrew can finally come over!!” You practically cried out, a bright smile on your face.

“..Where is Andrew..?” You questioned after surveying around, letting go of the embrace you tightly held Ashley in.

“Went to go and check on something.. don’t worry about it.”

“..Alright. I’ll wait here if you don’t mind.” You quietly spoke, standing beside Ashley as your hand subconsciously grabbed hers, intertwining them.

And Ashley didn’t say anything about it. Just to see how her brother would react, of course.

That didn’t go well, let me tell you.

He came back, noticing you, he was so excited like a puppy seeing their owner once more, but noticing that you were holding Ashleys hand..

..For some reason it made him pissed off.

“..(____), why don’t you hold my hand instead?”

You were already starting in his direction to tackle him into a hug, but Ashley pulled you back.

“Nah.. I think she’ll stay right here, holding my hand.”

“Ashley.”

“Yes, dear Andyyyy?”

“Let her go. Right now.”

“Mm, nah.” She chuckled seeing him get so riled up.

He flat up walked on over to you two, grabbed you by the waist, swiftly pulling you away from Ashley.

“Oh you jackass!!!”

But he didn’t care.

And then, you all heard another car..

Thats when everything else unfolded.

They killed that man..

And you witnessed it.

Then again though, he was a murderer as well..

..but why??

You were shaking like a leaf, catching Andy’s attention.

“Shh shh.. its okay. Theres no need to cry or worry, alright? It was in self-defense. I promise this won’t happen again.” He consoled you, hugging you closely as you nodded.

Ashley looked baffled though, one of her eyes slightly twitching.

..guess they’ll just have to not kill in front of you from now on.

Well, moving on from this..

You had made some fake ID’s for them (made by another friend of yours, of course) along with some birth certificates, you just wanted to help them get on their feet again.

That would.. slightly backfire.

No matter what, he became so obsessed with you, he started stalking you, watching you do anything around the house. When you’d turn to see if anyone was watching, no-one was there..

You brushed it off multiple times, but even when you were in the shower, or changing, you felt the same feeling. It was all.. unnerving. You hated it. You wanted it to stop.

But, it continued and continued, and it got to the point where you started asking Andrew if you could sleep with him for the night, to which he immediately accepted; surprising you.

You got into his bed, him pulling the covers over you despite the fact you already had a blanket with you.. but that was fine. You rested your head on his chest as he wrapped his arms around your lower back, pressing you closer to him.

And strangely, it seemed like all of the eyes that were previously watching you were gone. You could finally drift off to sleep, where Ashley would make fun of you both each time, but stopped suddenly after a bit..

But you shrugged it off as she was just bored of the joke now that you have cuddled with Andrew so many times now just for you to feel safer within your own home!

Little did you know that the person you were cuddling with was the one watching you all along..

His fingers threaded through your hair, humming ever so softly. He kissed the crown of your head, your forehead, your cheeks, and then eventually, your lips. You tasted sweet to him, sweet like nothing he’d ever tasted before in contrast to his usual taste of mint and cigarettes within his mouth.

He wanted more of it..

He then continued kissing your lips, now making out with your unconscious body, taking breaks in between to undress you from your nightclothes, underwear, and so forth.

In your sleep, you felt something.. swishing within your mouth. It was warm, tasting everything within your mouth almost, like it was trying to claim it!

You slowly awoke very sadly since you couldn’t get your beauty rest, trying to find the cause, just to see it was Andy. The person you were so close with. You instinctively pushed him away, or tried.

As much as you wanted to- you couldn’t hurt him. What would be everything you went for then? What would Ashley do?? You’d have to live with the guilt of possibly hurting one of your friends.

..is he even your friend anymore?

He took notice of that, opening his eyes instantaneously as he felt your touch. He pulled away for a moment, examining your expression.

The room was silent, the atmosphere was palpable as he turned to an emotionless face. He moved you closer to him.

“Andy!?” You yelped out as your body became tense.

“..Shit— shit, no, fuck, i’m so sorry. This is wrong-“ Andrew pushed himself away, getting up and threading his hands through his hair. His eyes were wide as he realized what he’d done.

“..Andrew, why??..”

“I’m sorry- that was disgusting- I’m sorry!..”

Your facial expression was bewildered, but you eventually just frowned and grabbed his arm (which was shaking.)

“Andrew, you should’ve asked me first so I could’ve consented. Especially if you have some sort of som—“

“Wait!.. how are you so calm?!” You really aren’t.

“..I’m not. But I would’ve just want some more information- some sort of talk about this entire situation before we could do anything.” Caressing his hand, you smiled softly, and he simply just stared at you for at least 5 seconds straight.

Consent talk?

Consent talk!!

He gave a long ass apology for his actions, immediately about to just get up and leave.

But you stopped him to talk further talked about the situation. You talked about what you really wanted.

And if you both were ready.

Even though all of this didn’t happen throughout one entire night, you planned everything out. What you two were going to do.

If you wanted a relationship.

Or just a situationship.

You both decided to test the waters first before deciding that.

You need to get out. Leave.

What are you doing?

Please, go.

He’ll kill you too.

You couldn’t fall asleep after everything that happened, so he ran a bath for you and him, washing you both.

After that though, he dressed you in some more comfortable clothes for the afternoon it seemed despite being early morning now.

He had you sit in his lap, smoking (trying to get you to smoke as well), tending to your wounds.

And that’s when Ashley came to you both later within the morning, groaning.

“Why was there so much noise in the night?.. could barely sleep..”

Safe to say, you gave a.. believable excuse

Wow- theres a lot here! But, I hope you all enjoyed!!

[daisymbin]

Hello, I hope you are doing good... Well, it's my first time requesting, so please bare with me. Can you do prompt number 1 and 39 from the suggestive genre? Regency AU would be amazing for this story!

Perhaps strangers to enemies to lovers (no FWB twist, honestly speaking, I am bored of that twist coming in so) Omega reader and Alpha Cheol...

I'll be honest this is my first take on this type of au and this one took me quite awhile but I tried my best so please go easy on me 🥲

full prompt list!

check out my masterlist! // cheol's m.list

suggestive prompt #1: "if you keep looking at me like that, I might kiss you." +

suggestive prompt #39: "you're mine, remember that."

the grand ballroom was filled with laughter and the soft hum of conversation, but your attention was nowhere near the polite chatter or the dancers gliding across the polished floor. your eyes were fixed on seungcheol, who stood across the room, looking far too at ease in his perfectly tailored coat, his sharp gaze never wavering from you.

alpha. that’s what he was. and you, an omega, were the last person he should have his eyes on, especially not in this setting where wolves like him ruled the land with their dominance and their power.

but that didn’t stop you from feeling the heat of his gaze, pulling at you in a way that made your heart race, your instincts stirring against the careful mask of composure you’d worked so hard to maintain. you hated how much it affected you, the way your body betrayed you every time he so much as glanced in your direction.

"you look like you're about to rip my throat out," seungcheol's voice broke through your thoughts, low and teasing as he appeared at your side, a wicked smile tugging at his lips.

you glared at him, turning slightly to face him. "maybe i should," you muttered, trying to keep your composure, but he only chuckled, as if the very idea amused him.

"careful, sweetheart," he warned, his voice darkening. "if you keep looking at me like that, i might kiss you."

you felt the blood rush to your cheeks, your heart hammering in your chest. it was impossible to ignore the tension between you two—seungcheol, the proud alpha, and you, the omega who had been taught from a young age to avoid provoking alphas like him.

but there was something about the way he carried himself, something in the way his scent—earthy and rich—clung to the air around him, that made it impossible for you to ignore.

"you’re bold for someone who knows nothing about the consequences," you hissed, glancing around to make sure no one was paying attention.

seungcheol leaned in closer, the scent of his dominance enveloping you, making your pulse quicken. "oh, don't worry,i know exactly what i’m doing, omega," he murmured, the word tasting like a challenge on his tongue. "and i think you like it."

his presence was overwhelming. alpha energy rippled from him in waves, and despite yourself, you could feel your body responding; your scent slipping in the air, a subtle betrayal of your desire.

he caught it. of course, he did. his nostrils flared as he took a deep breath, and his eyes darkened with something that made your breath catch.

"you can’t hide it, sweetheart," seungcheol whispered, his hand brushing lightly against your arm. "you’re mine. remember that."

your heart stuttered at the words. it was a claim, a warning, and an invitation all at once. his dominance was undeniable, and no matter how hard you fought it, you felt yourself being pulled in, the magnetic force of his presence drawing you closer, making your instincts rise to the surface.

"i’m not yours, i'm not anyone's," you shot back, though your voice lacked conviction. you tried to pull away, but the alpha wasn’t finished yet.

seungcheol’s grip tightened on your wrist, his fingers brushing against the soft skin of your inner arm. "you don’t get to decide that," he growled softly. "you can fight it all you want, but you can’t deny the way your body reacts to me."

he tugged you towards him, close enough that you could feel the heat of his body seeping into your own. the scent of his arousal filled your senses, and you cursed the way your body reacted—how your omega instincts flared, how you couldn’t stop the flush of heat that crept down your neck and settled in the pit of your stomach.

"stop pretending," he whispered, lips brushing against your ear as he held you in place. "i can smell how you feel. you're mine, whether you want it or not."

before you could respond, seungcheol pulled you into a secluded alcove, away from the prying eyes of the ballroom. his hands were on you immediately, tugging you closer, his scent wrapping around you, overwhelming you.

"careful, sweetheart," he murmured, voice thick with desire as he pushed you against the wall. his lips ghosted over your neck, where the pulse of your omega scent was strongest, and you could feel the heat radiating from his body, burning you alive.

"seungcheol," you whispered, but the protest was weak, barely audible. he just chuckled darkly, one of his hands sliding down to your waist, the other tangling in your hair to hold your head in place.

"you want this, dont you?" he said, his voice so low it was almost a growl. "i can feel it. i can smell it."

he was right. the pull, the undeniable attraction, the way your body seemed to crave him—it was impossible to deny. your omega instincts were screaming for submission, and your heart was thundering in your chest, torn between pride and desire.

"admit it," he coaxed, pressing his lips against the sensitive spot just beneath your ear. "you want me. you’ve always wanted me."

you gasped as his hands slid down to your hips, fingers pressing into the soft flesh there, pulling you closer to him.

"say it," seungcheol demanded, his voice laced with both hunger and command. "say you want me, sweetheart."

"i want you," you breathed, your voice trembling with the weight of your confession.

his eyes gleamed with triumph, his lips curling into a satisfied smile. "good girl."

and then, without warning, his lips crashed onto yours. it was all fire and hunger—no more games, no more teasing. he kissed you like he’d been starving for this moment, and you kissed him back, every ounce of your body finally surrendering to the pull.

and in that moment, you accepted it. because there was no escaping him now.

his hands slid under your dress, pulling you onto him, his body fitting against yours in a way that made your head spin. “you’re mine, remember that,” he repeated again, as if reminding you of something you already knew, as if trying to ingrained it into your brain.

[briefalpacashark]

~Hangover~

Synopsis: Titles pretty self explanatory.

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The next morning you were happily cooking away, watching the minutes pass by on the clock. Usually the boys would have been up half an hour ago. You would have to wake them up soon, though. You all had a mission briefing soon. Now you are a good person. But last night they did have you running across town and dealing with police because of their antics. So you set up a speaker in the hall, turned it on full blast and played an obnoxiously loud ‘Can Can Dance’ song. Hearing the cacophony of groans, you smile, returning to the kitchen. You watched as Gaz, Jonny and Price all dragged themselves into the wreck room heads bowed and pinched nose bridges.

“Well good morning sunshine’s and daisies!” you made sure to hit your voice with a slightly higher and louder pitch, making most of them flinch and groan.

“Shhhhhh,” Price hushed in your general direction. Hearing the speaker suddenly die out, you peeked around the corner to see Ghost standing there with his eyes barely open and a now impaled speaker on the end of his knife.

“Good morning,” you smirked. He looked at your smile, giving a grunt before walking to the table, throwing his defeated opponent upon the table, the bang making them all wince.

“Well well well. What happened to you guys' last night?” you asked, placing two large plates on the table. Full of food they might or might not want to eat. 

“We, uh, we had a few drinks,” Price said.

“Of, a few?” you asked, piling up your plate and beginning to eat.

“Yeah, I think,” he murmured, grabbing a plate for himself.

“How's your chest Jonny?” you asked. Jonny looked up at you with an accusing look, wondering just how you knew about the bald patch on his chest.

“Don't know what you mean, doc,” he grumbled.

“Aha sure. How's the head Simon?” you asked.

“Fine,” he muttered. Everyone looked at his head and to the slight bulge on his temple that the mask failed to hide.

“Got to say didn't pin you as a booty shorts type of man Gaz,” you added turning to Gaz. His face paled as he recalled the pink bedazzled pants he had quickly thrown into the bin. Your smirk widened impossibly wider. You were having way too much fun.

“And sir,” everyone went silent as you turned to Price. He looked up at you with a slight warning.

“I'm sorry about the hat,” you said. Everyone was silent for a few moments as they took in your smug grin.

"I'm to fucken old for this shit," he grumbled reaching for his tea.

“Alright you know what happened last night don't you?” Jonny asked.

“Who me? How could I know? I wasn't there remember,” you said. They pondered. That's the thing. They couldn't remember a damn single thing other than starting a drinking competition with the airforce boys.

“Did. I um d anything embarrassing?” Gaz asked bashfully. You pretended to think.

“What do you define as embarrassing?” you asked. He groaned, and Jonny chuckled.

“What are you laughing about Jonny?” you asked, taking a bite of food. His smile fell as he quickly shut up.

“You came to get us?” Price asked. You nodded.

“So, what happened?” Gaz asked.

“You know I don't think you would believe me even if I did tell you,” you hummed.

“Try us,” Ghost said.

“Right, ok,” you cleared your throat pushing your plate away. 

“So I get a call at 2 am in the morning. You rang me from a random phone, at a phone booth, that you didn't use and you have my contacts up on Gaz phone that you also didn't use. You were all just sitting on the curb eating a shit ton of Macca’s. It was an event to get you all in the car. Then when I did get you all in we went to a bar to pay of your tab. A bar that takes away your left shoe to make sure you don't run out on a tab. Which you guys did. Oh, wait sorry. I forgot the part where you all took a dip in a fountain to save ducks from drawing. Well Simon saved the ducks, Jonny tried to help but somehow started to drown in knee high water. Gaz tried to save him but couldn't and then Price apparently saved you both. Anyway so across from this bar is a police station. And you brilliant genius’s tried to pick a fight with a whole police force. Because apparently one of them tried to arrest Gaz. And the only reason why was because Gaz stole a stun gun. Then when I threatened you with lazwell finding out you all legged it down the street. Ghost almost took out a low hanging beam and Jonny and Gaz took out each other. I then had to track you all down again. You all put up a fight thinking I was working with the police. I had to tie you three up and put you in the back. Captain you were in a fucking tree. Honestly don't know how you got up so high. And Simon was in the trunk the whole time. So half way back to base you somehow managed to convince yourselves that you were kidnaped and jumped out of said car. I looked for you again and you called me to inform me you all had been arrested. Lucky for you I'm a sweet talker and got you guys off with a warning. Then I got you back and had to lug all your asses back to your beds,” you finished of the story with a smile. The boys all stared at you, first processing your words and then flat out denying them.

“Bull shit,” Jonny said in denial.

“Well, have a look at this and say that again,” you pulled out your phone and showed them the photo. Their faces fell as they took it in.

“Delete it,” Ghost ordered.

“What? Fuck no. Do you know the shit I had to go through last night? I earned this,” you stated.

“Sargent, I order you to delete that photo,” Price commanded.

“Captain, can i just say you have the cutest sweetest little giggle I've ever heard in my life,” you cooed. Price's face snapped into a glare.

“Giggled?” Jonny smirked.

“Captain's a giggling drunk,” you nodded. 

“Delete it,” Ghost ordered again.

“Make me,” you challenged. A scream left your lips as they all pounced on you, successfully pulling the phone from your grip and deleting the photo. 

“You all assholes,” you grumbled, taking your phone back.

“Not a word about last night to anyone,” Price ordered, pointing at you.

“Yes sir,” You gave a mock salute, grinning ear to ear.

“What's that?” he asked, pointing to the smile.

“What's what sir?” you asked innocently.

“That smile. What have you done?” he asked.

“Nothing sir,” you smiled, batting your eyelashes before walking away. 

Across the base, Laswell had just entered her office, tea in hand. Sitting down at her computer, she opened her emails going through the more important once before finding one from you. Reading the topic of blackmail, she moved closer, taking a sip of her tea.

As she opened it her eyes went wide at the picture she saw spitting the tea out in a mist.

Later that day you found Ghost sitting on the couch rubbing his temple. 

“Here,” you said, holding out some tablets to him with a drink of water.

“What's this?” he asked.

“Does it matter?” you asked with a smirk. He shrugged, hiking his mask up to his nose and taking the tablets. You were slightly taken aback seeing the half of his face. And from the half you could see he was handsome. What you loved more was the stumble he wore. Yep he was definitely blond. 

“Huh,” you hummed.

“What?” he asked, pulling his mask back down.

“Knew you had a stubble. Jonny owes me a tenner,” you smiled. Again, the Dajuvu washed over you. Ghost thought back to the time you were in the hospital. To the time you held his face so tenderly and looked at him so softly. He wished you would do it again. 

“Hey, wanna hear something worth its weight in gold?” you asked, your cheeky grin taking over. He nodded, and you slotted yourself next to him, your arms pressed against each other. You opened up your phone going into your recorder. Shuffling impossibly closer you held the phone up between your ears. 

“What?”

“Shhhhh,” you hushed him, your hand unknowingly dropping to his biceps to pull him closer. He leaned down, his head gently knocking on the top of yours. It was comedic really. His whole upper body was bent over while you were just sitting there. 

Softly a giggle sounded from your phone.

“What the hell is that?” Ghost asked as he continued to listen.

“That is our dear captain giggling,” you chuckled. Simon couldn't help the laugh that burst from his mouth. And not one of his half chuckles. No it was a real laugh. I mean, who wouldn't be amused by it. Your smirk turned into a warm smile as you looked up at him. 

“Fuck, That’s hilarious. That's really Price?” he asked. You loved it, the way his smile reached his eyes.

“Yeah, but not as amusing as you tighty whities,” You grinned, patting his leg and getting up. He froze. Sure, he wore tighty whities when he was in civics. They were comfortable. 

“So you took advantage of me when I was drunk and unconscious?” he asked teasingly.

“Oh yeah definitely,” you grinned back with a wink. You went to leave but paused, stepping back to face him. “I didn't see your face if that's what you mean. I kept my eyes closed when I took your mask off,” you added. 

“I know,” he muttered. You frowned and were about to ask about it when Price called the two of you for the briefing. 

“Come on,” he said, walking up to you and putting you in a headlock. Which wasn't hard. He practically dragged you out.

“Don't go telling anyone about my tighty whities. Copy?” he asked.

“Sure thing, Sir,” you grinned tapping out. He smiled, releasing you. You walked side by side. Something you hoped one day you would always do.

“You owe me a speaker by the way,”

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=COD Master List Here=

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