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i-cant-sing · 2 months

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To that one thought about the different monarchs YES TO ALL

Ahahaha im so glad so many people liked that idea (OG post here), so ive decided to work on it. So, lets set the story okay? (also btw do not @ me with historical inaccuracies and dates because i simply dont care about all of this that deeply). This AU will have multiple parts, where reader gets to travel through different time periods (and some of them will be real historic figures, others would be created by me).

Reader is a scientist, was working on her time machine (which is just a small box with time/year slots on it), and decides to travel to the past to solve some mysteries, or perhaps simply for the love of history.

So, where does reader travel to first?

1180. Landing right in the kingdom of Jerusalem. And who does she meet?

King Baldwin IV- the leper king.

Reader wanted to see how leprosy, a deadly disease at the time, had affected the king, who despite his conditions, still managed to possess great military strategies and IQ. And how even though his people knew about his outcome, still pledged their loyalty and unwavering support.

You, a scientist of the modern time ofc brought along futuristic gadgets with you. Knowing how youd look in your present era clothes, you wore a watch that allowed you to change into clothes of old times, to blend in easily. All of your gadgets were concealed easily because of their "invisibility cloak" feature.

You made your way towards the castle, making sure to not let awe be apparent in your face as you took in your surroundings, thinking of all the questions youd like to ask the wise king. Of course, you had to make sure you dont do anything to disturb the historic timeline, because then it just might lead to disastrous results.

Getting into the castle was easy, after all you had equipment to sneak you in undetected. You looked around as the servants rushed around, talking about making the arrangements perfect for the feast. You figured out that the feast was probably for another victory the king had gotten, which meant that everyone would be too busy to notice you snooping around.

With everyone engaged downstairs, you had your way up to the king's study, where you opened the door only to be met with a tall burly man standing there, looking surprised to see you.

"Who are you?" He barked, and you got the worst vibes from this man.

"Uh- Im a servant!" You said,backing up a little, just in case you needed to make a run. The man narrowed his eyes as he looked you up and down. "A servant? No servants are allowed in the king's study!"

"The king sent me here." You lied. "And why are you here if servants are not allowed?"

The man's eyes widened in rage before grabbing you by the neck. "Because Im not a servant, fool! I'm his brother in law!" He shook you hard. "And I dont think youre a servant, if you couldnt recognise me! I will have your head, spy!"

"GUY!" Someone yelled from behind you, making Guy look up as his grip around your neck loosened. "Let her go!"

"Your majesty, she's a spy-"

"She's a servant. I sent her up to retrieve my papers." Guy let you go, as you quickly turned around to see him- King Baldwin. You bowed to him as you gave him a glance, noticing his piercing gaze through his iron mask. His gaze shifted from you to Guy. "And what were you doing here, Guy?"

"I was looking for Sibylia, your majesty." He said.

"In my study? My sister is waiting for you downstairs. Go." Guy scrambled away with his tail tucked between his legs, while you watched as the king made his way into his study, leaving you outside.

You took a step back, about to leave-

"Well, come on in." He called you. You ponder over it for a second before walking in. Look, how many times can you meet a historical figure like him?

Baldwin was sitting in his chair, his eyes looking at you through his mask. "So, who are you and what were you doing here? And dont bother lying, unless you want to be tortured for attempted assassination on the king."

You bit your lip before sighing. "Im Y/n L/n." Clasping your hands together, you took a deep breath. "I came here because... I wanted to know about you."

He rested his chin on his palm. "Why? Do you not know about the king of Jerusalem? Where are you from?" He's not vain, but he knows that his numerous victories have made him popular over the years. So why do you not know of him? Or his brother in law, Guy, who is very vain.

"Im from nowhere. For as long as I can remember, Ive been travelling from place to another. Of course, Ive heard about you, but... I crave to know more." You said, partly telling the truth because you do want to know more about him.

His eyes remained on you, the same intense gaze. "And why should I allow you to know more? Do you mistake yourself to be worthy enough to even be in the presence of a king?"

Shit. He was trying to put you in the corner. You had to play this smart.

You smiled softly. "Of course not. Then again, none of us are worthy of anything God blesses us with." You paused, letting the words settle. "Your majesty, I only wish to know more about you because I like to write. I like to write about history, and when one day, God forbid, you succumb to your illness, wouldn't you like to be known for more than just your victories?" You'd read about how Baldwin IV was a fan of history and stories.

His eyes stared at you- no, through you. Unmoving, he replied. "Man shouldnt be so narcissistic to have someone write about his deeds."

You gave a nod. "Jesus wasnt a narcissist. Neither was Mary, nor Abraham. Muhammad wasnt a narcissist either, yet theyre mentioned in books- holy books, nonetheless."

The room fell silent for a few seconds, before he spoke. "True. But why should I have you write it, instead of using one of my scribes?"

"Precisely for the reason you just said." You raised your head a bit. "They'd write never ending praises for you, portray you as this omnipotent ruler, make you look like a narcissit even. I have a keen eye, your majesty. I like to look at what there is beyond the surface. If you let me be your scribe, I could write about details you dont even know. Id write about your strengths as well as weaknesses, for the generations to read and learn from you."

Baldwin remained still for a few moments before finally standing up, walking directly towards you until he was face to face. His blue eyes shining bright under his iron mask.

"I will let you write, under two conditions. First- I approve what gets to be in the book. And second... you spy for me."

"Wait, spy?"

He hummed. "Well, not a conventional spy. You wont have to leave this castle and penetrate enemy territories to eavesdrop. I still dont trust you enough. No- you- you will spy on my court. I want to know what is happening, when, where, and who says what." Under his mask, he raised a brow. "Do you accept?"

You pretended to hesitate, when in reality this was the exact situation you wanted to be in. "Hmm... yes. I accept."

"Good." He walks back towards his desk. "I expect that it goes without saying- complete discretion." You smiled. "Of course, your majesty."

Months passed by as you worked for the king. He let you in on details, allowed you to ask personal questions, and in return you kept an eye on everything that happened in court. Listening on to what the servants whispered to eavesdropping on "secret meetings" of the nobles- of course, headed by Guy. Oh how you loathed that vermin's guts. No- he had no guts. A spineless creature, who blatantly talked of the king's eventual demise and all the ways he'd make the kingdom flourish again, how he'd show "no mercy to Salauddin and his muslims". You have no idea how Sibylla was attracted to him- a man who plans her brother's demise openly.

As for the king, working with him- or for him, wasnt all bad. In fact, it was quite fun. The amount of stories, the secrets youve been able to discover- none of it could ever be found in any history book. Most of all, you respect Baldwin on a whole new level now.

His struggles, ever since he was kid- not being a legitmate ruler, his parents being forced to separate, then being diagnosed with leprosy but forced to keep it a secret, the competition with his other sibling to be the heir, and of course, even when he did become the king, he still had to prove his mettle- his worth that he's worthy of ruling even with his disease.

With his life expectancy being uncertain and a huge amount of responsibility being shovelled onto him, he had to learn a lot and master various skills in very short time.

Heavy is the head that wears the crown.

Y/n could only imagine how isolated he must feel. Not being able to touch anyone, to have a significant other, to constantly win battles and do everything in your power to help the kingdom flourish, just for him to not even be alive to enjoy the fruits of his efforts. And worse, he's forced to give it away to his brother in law, that useless piece of shit.

Its one thing that confuses you about Baldwin. You know how persistent he is, how when he sets his eyes on something, he does everything in power and BEYOND to achieve it. For example, when he was only a child and had started to lose the ability to use his hands, he quickly learned to use his thighs to steer his horse. He did not let his disease hold him back, so how does a person as motivated as him simply allow his kingdom to be left in the hands of someone as incapable as Guy?

Then again, you suppose he's doing it for the sake of his sister. Baldwin adores Sibylla, and you could see why. Sibylla was his older sister, she took care of him, and she was forced to marry early because the court would only allow Baldwin to be king IF she were married, so that when Baldwin dies of leprosy, her husband could take care of the kingdom. Baldwin views it as the ultimate sacrifice, so even though he has tried to separate his sister from Guy, she has refused because she's in love with him.

God knows how. You wondered. Guy does not have any redeeming qualities, then again youre thinking like a 21st century woman. Woman of this time had the bar for men set below the deepest level in hell.

"So, what do you have for me today?" Baldwin asked you, snapping you out of your thoughts. You sighed, shaking your head. "Nothing new, really. Your brother in law, pardon my language your majesty, has been spewing shit about how he'll make the kingdom great again when you die. But when those nobles ask him how, he either has no answer and tries to cover it up by saying its a secret, or he'd say something so ridiculous- his ideas are bound to not only fail, but actually destroy the kingdom even more. I am surprised he doesnt give himself a headache by his own voice. God knows i get one whenever he opens his mouth." You complained, rubbing your temples making the king chuckle. Baldwin seemed to enjoy how informally you spoke.

"Guy is... something else. I apologise on his behalf." You could sense him smiling under his mask. You gave a small smile, but truthfully, your head was actually hurting a lot. You could only hope this was not a migraine developing.

"Would you like tea? Or wine?" He asked as he called in a servant. "Just water for me, thank you." You said, closing your eyes for a few moments as the sharp ache in your head increased.

Baldwin's eyes remained on you, a calculated gaze. "Are you alright? Should I call in the physician?" You shook your head. As if you could trust physicians of this time. "No, I'll be fine after I sleep." You have some medical potions with you that could heal your basic diseases and pains. A gift of modern medicine. But you'll have to use it discreetly, lest someone from this era discovers it and calls you a witch.

The servant soon brought in a chalice filled with water for you and you immediately took a sip of the cool water. Baldwin stood up as he walked over to the window, looking out into the dark night.

"Can I ask you something personal?" You asked. He hummed. You stared at his back, the white cloak he was dressed in. "Do you think if you never had this disease, would you still be a great king? A king who is so motivated to make his kingdom as successful as he can before his time is up?"

He looked back at you, and for a second you wondered if you had slighted him. But these past few months, you've learned to read his body language, despite how hard he conceals both himself and his thoughts.

"No." He said, turning back to the window. "I probably would've been a spoiled brat, I don't think I would've even been chosen to be king. I would've lost it to my half brothers." He tilted his head as he looked at a particular star in the sky. "I suppose my disease is a blessing. God blessed me with it to humble me. Had He not, I probably wouldn't be religious."

"And is that how you see your suffering? A blessing from God?" You asked as you pulled out the medical vial from your cloak and poured it in your chalice. Your headache had started to pulsate now and you needed this.

"I do. I have to serve my people, and my suffering has brought me closer to them and to God. And even with my disease, I was made a king. Isn't that divine intervention? My purpose on earth?" He said almost monotonously, as if he's had this conversation a thousand times.

You took sip of your medicated water, headache immeadiately reducing in intensity. "So... if you had the chance, would you still be the leper king? Or would you be healthy but... not a king? Just a man who gets to experience life like the rest of us, eat normal food, play with others, walk without having to wear a mask, or even fall in love?"

He remained silent, but his shoulders dropped ever so slightly. Tired? Or defeated?

"I prefer not to think about things I have no control over, Y/n." He finally turned around and his blue eyes looked at yours, though this time, there was something else swirling in them. "Finish your water and head to bed. I don't think you're well enough to tell me a story tonight." You smiled gratefully. Over these past few months, the king had enjoyed the modern world stories you told him. Some were literature classics, like Romeo and Juliet, others were straight up fanfic plots with details missing because he wouldn't have understood them anyways.

You were about to pick up your chalice when suddenly Baldwin fell to the ground.

"Your Majesty!" You rushed over to him, watching him tremble on the ground as he struggled to breathe. You dropped to your knees and attempted to remove his mask, only for him swat your hand away.

"No! You'll get it too!" He said, his eyes screwing shut in pain. He was worried about you contracting leprosy.

"Just- trust me." You pursed your lips as you moved his hand away and removed his mask, before removing the white veil underneath it, which was there to prevent his peeling skin and sores from sticking to the iron mask.

You didn't gasp when you saw his disfigured face. No, you'd seen it already when they constructed his face using modern technology. You touched his forehead with your palm, noticing how warm it was. This was one of his leprosy fevers, it was serious and quiet painful. But you already know he doesn't die until 1185 and it's still 1180.

"I'll go fetch the physician-"

"No!" Baldwin yelled, struggling to breathe. "No- just-" He suddenly whimpered as pain shot through every fiber of his body, making him dig his heels into the ground. Your heart wrenched at the sight.

"Its- too- hot- i-" you looked around before grabbing your chalice and bringing it to his lips, holding his head in your lap, you helped him drink the water. He drank it all, his forehead now covered in sweat and his face still contorted in pain. You held his hand and squeezed it.

"Its okay, Baldwin. I'm here. I'm right here." You whispered, his head resting in your lap as you gently wiped his forehead with your sleeve.

Baldwin stared up into your worried eyes, and that was the last thing he saw before he passed out.

Baldwin woke upto screaming. Opening his eyes, his blurred vision slowly cleared upto watch you and Guy screaming at each other, the latter had his hand clawed into your hair.

"WHO DO YOU THINK YOURE TALKING TO, YOU WENCH?!" Guy yelled as he shook you harshly.

"A SPINLESS BEING NOT WORTHY OF BEING CALLED A MAN!" You spat back, eyes red with rage.

Guy's eyes widened at the insult before he raised his hand to strike you, but was stopped by Baldwin.

"Guy! Let her go!" Both of your heads snapped towards the king.

"Y-your Majesty?" Guy couldn't believe his eyes. He survived?

"I said- let. Her. Go!" Baldwin commanded as he stood up and walked over to them, making Guy immeadiately let you go and bow to him. Baldwin's eyes landed on you, and you gave him a small bow.

"Leave." Baldwin commanded, eyes fixed on you.

Guy looked up from his his bowing position. "Your Majesty, I'm so glad you're well-"

"I said, LEAVE!" Baldwin's voice boomed, his eyes never leaving yours. Guy scrambled put of the room quickly, and you started to leave as well, but Baldwin grabbed your wrist.

"Not you." He said, those blue eyes piercing into you. "I- how long was I out?"

"2 weeks." You replied.

Baldwin let out small gasp as he let go of your hand and slowly walked towards the mirror in his room. It was quiet for a minute.

"What... happened?" He asked, looking at his reflection.

"Well, after you fainted, I called in the physicians and they took you to your chambers. They had prepared some medication but were hesitant to apply it on you, fearing they'd contract your disease. So, I convinced them to let me do it since I had already touched you. When I was done, your sister, princess Sibylla and Guy came. Guy asked the physicians when you would be dying, and the physicians said a few days and that this time- you may not wake up from your fever. While your sister broke down, and honestly I'm not trying to create problems for you guys, but you could ask anyone and they'd tell you just how much Guy beamed at the news. Anyways, they both left soon after that. Things were quite for a week, with the physicians coming in to give me the medication to apply on you. Then-" you paused trying not to show your frustration in your voice. "In the second week, Guy started fussing around and throwing tantrums since you didn't die yet. I mean, I was in your room but I could still hear him yelling at the physicians outside about how his coronation was being delayed because you were still here. It pissed me off, but you know me- I'm not one to get into family matters. So I didn't do anything. Then today-! Ugh, he came in while I was in your bathroom and I saw him grabbing a pillow and bringing it near your face. He stopped when I chucked your bible at him- so sorry about that but it was nearest thing next to me- and I just asked what he was doing. And do you know what he said? He had the nerve- THE NERVE to say 'I'm just trying to end his suffering, in fact you should do it. I can't risk contracting leprosy, I'm the future king!' And then I chucked your golden cross at him- again very sorry for that. And then we got into an argument and well- that's what you woke up to."

It was quiet again. You looked at Baldwin staring at his reflection, and for a moment, you thought he wasn't listening to you.

Baldwin nodded. "Okay. Thank you, Y/n. You may go to your room now. I will send in some physicians to check if you've contracted leprosy."

You frowned. "I havent-" but you stopped. How were you supposed to explain to him that you're "vaccinated".

In the mirror, his eyes shifted to you. "I know, but I'd like to know for sure. For my peace of mind."

You nodded. "Look, I'll go apologise to Guy right now-"

"No. There's no need. I'll talk to him myself. You've done enough. Please go to your room and wait for me." Baldwin gave you a small smile and watched you leave.

Moments later, he had a guard fetch the head physician in, who confirmed your story.

"Its true, your Majesty. Y/n risked her life to be with you for the past 2 weeks. She didn't leave the room and would apply medication on you herself, changed your clothes, wiped your sweat and even fed you some soup herself. She seemed very determined- almost as if she knew you'd recover. I'm ashamed to admit that I... I did not think you would." The physician even confirmed all the shit Guy had been doing, but Baldwin didn't need anyone's testimony to know that Guy was planning his downfall- and celebrating it. He wasn't surprised by that.

He was surprised by 2 things:

1. You hadn't contracted leprosy.

2. He was recovering from his disease.

"Its true. As you'd asked, I had done a check up on Y/n and I did not find any signs of leprosy... or any disease. She's as fit as can be!" The physician said in awe.

Baldwin smiled at that, looking at the mirror again. His own skin had begun healing. Many of his sores had already disappeared, and his complexion was returning to normal. And physical appearance was one thing, but Baldwin could even feel himself healthy on the inside. That constant ache in his bones was gone, the fatigue was gone, the suffering was gone.

But how? How could it just go away like that?

It's been 2 days since he woke up, and his health only seems to be improving at an exponential rate. And he's still trying to figure out how he got well out of nowhere. Closing his eyes, he tried to recall the events of that night.

All he remembers is falling down, fever enveloping his body so quickly, he felt like he was burning up, and then you were there and you helped him drink-

Baldwin eyes snapped open. It made sense.

He called in the guard and had him fetch his senior council members in his court room.

"I have 2 surprises for you." Baldwin said as he sat on his throne, looking over the members (Sibylla and Guy were also present), all staring and perhaps gawking at how well he looked now. "My disease is cured. I no longer suffer from leprosy." The court immeadiately fell into whispers and mutterings before going silent when he raised a hand. "I know it sounds impossible, but as you can all see, my health has not only improved but in fact I have become stronger. My body is no longer ridden with sores and boils. I no longer wear a mask, neither do I require assistance in walking. In fact, I am even able to use both of my hands to not only use a sword but also-" He pulled out a dagger and aimed it an apple he threw in the air, piercing right through it. "- I am no longer blind in one eye."

The court erupted in cheer, congratulating the king and praising God for saving Baldwin and the kingdom. From his throne, he could see Sibylla clapping in joy and wiping tears from her eyes as she smiled at him, while Guy looked at him in shock.

"Your majesty! What's the other surprise?" One of the members asked.

Baldwin smiled as he stood up.

"I have found a wife. She's the one who healed me."

He looked at the court that had once again erupted into cheer.

"Jerusalem has a new Queen."

"What do you mean I can't leave?" You asked the guard who was stationed outside your door.

"Ma'am, as I said before, the king has asked you to wait for him and ordered us to not let you leave until he comes." He said before closing the door again.

You scoffed. Can't leave? Why the hell not?

It's probably because I insulted Guy. He wants to punish me because of that. Will he throw me in the dungeons? Or will he just have my head chopped off?

You pulled out your time machine, the small box in your hands.

Well, I'm not sticking around to find out. Time to leave-

Just then, you heard the door open, making you hide the machine again. Is he finally here?

"Princess Sibylla." You bowed.

She chuckled, grabbing your shoulders. "Now, now. There's no need for that. In fact, I have to be the one bowing to you now." She said before kissing your cheeks. She's always been very humble and kind, and over the past few months, you've developed a good friendship with her.

You gave her a quizzical look. "What do you mean?" She laughed again. "Oh come on. You don't have to hide it anymore. Tell me, how did you persuade Baldwin to marry?"

"The king is getting married? To who?"

Sibylla raised a brow at you. "To-"

"Sibylla." A voice cut her off.

Baldwin was standing at your door. You bowed quickly, he looked at you before shaking his head at his sister.

"Will you leave? I have to talk to Y/n."

Sibylla nodded as she walked towards the door, but not before giving him a hug and congratulating him.

You two were alone now.

Baldwin had his hands clasped behind him as he walked closer to you.

"How are you feeling?" You asked him, eyes shifting to his hands. Is he holding a knife? To punish you for insulting Guy?

"I'm well, all thanks to you." He replied.

"Huh?" You looked at him confused, but your mind was still occupied with his hands. What is he hiding?

I need to delay this and find an escape route to use my time machine. You thought.

"Um- I uh- I heard you're getting married." You gulped, eyes still fixed on his hands, trying to anticipate any sudden movements.

"I am."

"Oh um, congratulations."

"Thank you." Baldwin said, tilting his head slightly at your wide eyes fixed on his hidden hands.

Cute.

"Y/n." He called out to you.

"Look, if you- if you're still mad at me about what I said to Guy, I apologise. But- but just so you know, I- I DONT THINKS ITS GOOD OMEN TO MURDER ME BEFORE YOU GET MARRIED!"

"Y/n."

"I WILL HAUNT YOU-! IM SORRY BUT I WILL AND I WILL HAUNT YOUR WIFE AND YOUR KIDS-"

"Y/n!" You looked at him as he stared at you with amusement. "You're being ridiculous."

"Huh?"

With one hand, he cupped your cheek as he brought himself closer.

"Why would I kill my soon-to-be wife?"

What? Wait-

"What?!" You shrieked backing away. "What kind of joke is that?!"

Baldwin looked insulted. "I wouldn't joke about this. You're very important to me."

"No- I- what?!"

He sighed as he sat on your bed. "Well, it makes sense, doesn't it? You saved me from an incurable disease, clearly you're the Chosen One, sent to me by God, and now I'll marry you."

You looked at him perplexed. "What are you talking about?! Saved you? All I did was help you drink water, apply your medication and-" you paused.

Helped him drink water... from my chalice... the one with... the medicinal vial.

"No." You covered your mouth in shock. What have I done?! This would change history completely! Shit. Shit. shit shit shit-

"Yes. You dont have to be so worried. The council is actually quiet happy that Im marrying someone, and they agree that there is no better match than the woman who saved my life-"

"I did not save your life!"

"Of course, you did. You gave your chalice-" "How is that even possible?! It only had water!" "Water that touched your lips first. Of course, it mustve been your essence, your saliva that healed me-" "Ew, no. Do you even yourself?! This is all unbelievable!"

Baldwin furrowed his brows slightly. "Its... not. I mean, look at you. You spent weeks taking care of me, you touched me, and yet did not even show signs of any illness, let alone leprosy! Of course, youre the chosen one!"

"I am not the chosen one!" You yelled as you pulled at your hair frustratedly. How could you fuck up so bad? If Baldwin really is cured, then history will be changed- and it will have disastrous impacts on future-

Baldwin pulled your hands away from your hair, tutting at you. "Dont do that. Youre the Queen, you cant hurt yourself."

"I am not the Queen."

He nodded. "Yet. But you are a princess now." Baldwin said as he pulled out the box hed been hiding behind his back all this time. Before you could even react, he'd already pulled out the big gold ring with a sapphire that had tiny diamonds around it and he slipped the ring onto your finger. You gawked at the ring making him chuckle.

Baldwin bent down to kiss your forehead sweetly before tapping your cheek admonishingly.

"Now, no hurting yourself princess. I want my queen in perfect health." Your cheeks reddened at how close he was, making him laugh even more as he pecked your forehead again and turned to leave.

You couldn't even say anything, he'd left you speechless. He looked back once, a lazy smile on his face.

"I should leave you to rest now, before Sibylla returns and starts pestering you with wedding preparations. She told me that shed been looking forward to this day for a very long time."

so this is part 1. thoughts????

PART 2 here!

#yandere baldwin #yandere king baldwin #yandere leper king #yandere baldwin iv #male yandere #bnha headcanon #yandere male #tw yandere #yandere #yandere x darling #male yandere x reader #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere x y/n #yandere oc #yandere oc x reader #yandere headcanons #yandere scenarios

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2hightocare · 4 months

Text

UNEXPECTED NEWS!

Synopsis: Pregnant with your first child, how do you plan on dropping the news to your husband?

Genre: married au! KUWTB!

Warnings: whole lotta fluff.. cussing, mentions of sex, playful banter, found family… just fucking fluff bye.

a/n: well long awaited drabble.. I honestly adore all of them so much… Jungkook and oc were being extra cutesy (they usually play fighting all the time) in this.. enjoy🤍 ps I’m high as fuck so ignore all mistakes.

ask! KUWTB💌

“You’re fucking pregnant?” Your best friend whispers, Eunbi stares at you with wide eyes and mouth hanging open.

You had been feeling weird these past few days, from your emotions being all over the place to throwing up whenever you ate something. Jungkook was worried about what was wrong, but you just told him that you were on your period, which was a lie since you hadn’t had it in some time now.

So, here you are, sitting against the wall in the bathroom of Eunbi’s house with a positive pregnancy test in your hand. “I’m going to be an auntie!” Eunbi dances in front of you, her blonde hair coming undone from her bun.

“Oh my god, I’m pregnant.” It finally clicks in your brain that a small human is forming in your belly at this very moment, tears start streaming down your face.

You and Jungkook have been married for five years now. When you first got married, you both said you would enjoy your marriage and have fun. And that’s exactly what you did; you traveled a lot, went out to parties until five in the morning, did spontaneous stuff all the time.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Eunbi rushes to your side, kneeling down in front of you, lifting your face up. “Are these happy tears or sad tears?” She asks, her thumbs wiping your tears away, ruining your makeup.

“Both.” You sniffle, your eyes finally meeting her hazel eyes.

“Wanna talk about it?” Eunbi asks slowly, trying to read your expression.

Eunbi has been your best friend since college days; she was your dorm roommate. You both majored in the same thing, meaning you guys had almost every class together.

“It’s just that..” you pout, as the tears continue to fall.

“I’m happy, I’m really happy. But Kook and I haven’t talked about having a baby anytime soon. I don’t know how he’ll react.” You explain, as Eunbi only nods her head.

“Y/n, that man loves you so much, it’s even absurd what he would do for you. Knowing him, he would literally jump off a cliff for you. I don’t think he’ll react badly, but if he does, I’ll have the guys throw him off the cliff. Anyways, he loves you a lot with a baby or without a baby.” Eunbi says, helping you stand up before hugging.

“How do you think I should tell him?” You sniffle, as Eunbi chuckles, letting go of you.

“Pregnancy reveal plan in the making!” Eunbi says.

“And can we get out of here, this is where Yoongi takes his shits, it kinda smells bad,” Eunbi scrambles to the door, which has you laughing, following her lead out of the bathroom.

…

It’s been two days since you found out you were pregnant, but you haven’t told Jungkook anything yet. Eunbi and you planned a way of telling him the day you found out, so here you are, nervous as hell in Jungkook's car, trying to calm your nerves.

After a couple of minutes, you step out of the car with your shoulder bag and some shopping bags. You lock the car behind you and make your way to the main door.

“Hi baby, how did it go?” Your husband greets you the minute you walk in from the couch. “What did you buy?” Jungkook pauses the show he was just watching, putting all his attention on you, making grabby hands for you to go to him.

“Want a haul?” You giggle, making your way to him who pats his lap for you to sit on, which you do after dropping the bags beside him.

“Better have used my card,” he gives you a glare which you only roll your eyes playfully, reaching for your Prada bag before pulling out his black card and handing it to him. “Keep it, you use it more than me,” waves you off, giving your neck a wet kiss.

“Did the girls not go? I was on the phone with Taehyung, and he said Ari was making dinner.” Jungkook gives your thigh a squeeze, helping you adjust in his lap. “Ari said she was really busy with work, and Lora was taking care of Jiho since Jin is working.” You explain, running your fingers through his messy curls.

“You went by yourself? I could’ve gone with you, baby.” Jungkook pouts at you, which you shake your head with a smile. “Eunbi went with me, plus you had work,” You squeeze his cheeks.

“Tsk, I missed you,” He smiles, pulling your face closer to his before connecting his lips to yours. Your eyes immediately flutter closed, mirroring his smile against your lips.

“I have to show you something.” You bring up, your stomach doing a turn. “Show me,” He smiles, patting your thigh, before you climb off his lap, reaching for the shopping bags.

“Are you going to give me a haul?” Jungkook raises an eyebrow at you, which you only wink back as a response.

“So, I got a lot of makeup,” you say, showing him every product you got, which he listened to carefully even though he had no clue what half of the stuff you bought is used for. “I got us these, so we can all match,” you pull out the biggest Nike shoe box first, passing it to your husband.

“These are sick as fuck,” Jungkook holds up the black and white high tops. “Let me see yours.” He motions to the other box in the bag; you hand him your shoe box. Instead of high tops, they’re low instead.

“Super cute, they match your outfit right now,” He says about your pink long sleeve bodysuit. “They do, don't they,” You say, cracking your fingers nervously to show him the much smaller box in the bag.

“Oh, who’s this one for?” Jungkook reached for the small box, opening it to be met with tiny matching shoes. “Are these for Jiho? I don’t think they would fit him,” Your husband brings up the only child in the family as he holds the tiny shoe in his palm.

“They’re not for Jiho..” You nervously say, as you dig into your bag, pulling out the positive pregnancy test.

“You’re fucking kidding,” Jungkook's mouth hangs open as he stares at your teary eyes. You shake your head, tears start falling down your eyes watching your husband that’s stuck in place with wide eyes.

“I’m going to pass out, baby, are you serious?” Jungkook's face scrunches up as tears fill his eyes, “baby, you’re pregnant?” He drops the shoes and moves closer to you, his hands holding your face waiting for you to say something.

“Yes, I’m pregnant,” You sniffle with a smile, reaching to wipe your husband's tears. Before you know it, he jumps up, fist bumps the air, and starts screaming.

“Fuck yes!” He shouts to the air as he runs around the house as you burst out laughing, “I’m going to be a dad, oh my fucking god!” He runs back to pick you up from the carpet, smashing his lips on yours, spinning around.

“You’re going to be a mommy, you’re going to be such an amazing mom,” Jungkook says between each kiss he leaves all over your face, making you giggle. You felt stupid for even worrying in the first place how he would react.

“I think it’s going to be a boy,” Jungkook sets you down, “Baby, it’s been two days since I found out,” You say,

“You knew for two days and you didn’t tell me?” He gasps dramatically, “I was thinking about how to tell you,” you reassure him, which he only nods, giving you a big fat kiss.

“Do you think it’s too soon to buy his crib right now?” Jungkook asks enthusiastically.

“Jeon..” you give him a look, “yes it’s too early and don’t call it ‘he,’ we don’t know what it might be,” you say, before getting on your tiptoes, leaving a kiss on his lips, leaving him in the living room making your way to the kitchen.

“You just called him and ‘it,’ that's so much worse!” Jungkook argues, following behind you.

…

“Your handwriting is shit, to say the least,” you say as your husband writes on the small index card. “You have a way to flirt with me, baby, thank you so much, I love you too,” he says as he glares up at you before returning to writing on the card.

“Do you even think they’ll open the cookies?” You pop your hip out, watching your husband. “You know they only come to our house for the cookies, right? They don’t give a fuck about us,” Jungkook bites a laugh as you pout. “Well, now I don’t want to tell them shit,” you joke, staring at the words on the card.

“Do you even think they’ll understand that? They’re a little slow,” Jungkook wraps his hand over your shoulder, messing up your perfectly curled hair. “Um, they'll figure it out, they got a Joonie to help them,” you shrug before stealing a cookie from the packet and running off.

“I’m so hungry,” Lora says, her hand on her stomach as if that would silence the growling happening inside.

“There are cookies on the counter,” you point to the kitchen, which Jungkook smirks at you.

With that, everyone stands up, dashing to the kitchen, acting like they never had a cookie in their life. You truly had no idea how all of you became obsessed with chocolate chip cookies; all of your guys' houses have a bunch of packages lying everywhere to eat. It was common and normal for all of you; for others, it might seem bizarre seeing grown adults fight over cookies.

“I swear cookies taste so much better in Kook's house,” Jimin rants as he watches Hoseok open the bag, stopping in his tracks as he reads the note. Lora and Ari try reaching in for a cookie, completely ignoring the note but getting swatted away by Namjoon.

“Y/n is pregnant!” Namjoon shouts, which sends everyone's mouths hanging open. “You’re fucking joking!” Seokjin gasps as he runs towards you and Jungkook, embracing you in a tight hug.

“Oh my god, they really got down to business,” Taehyung says, getting a swat from Lora who’s glaring at him before pointing her eyes at Jiho beside her. “Am I the only one who doesn’t get the note?” Jimin says as he reads the card, as everyone congratulates and hugs you and Jungkook.

“Eat up, mommy Y/n doesn’t want to be the only one with a belly, love baby!” Jimin reads the card, holding it up in the air after he’s done reading it.

“I told you someone was not going to know what it meant,” Jungkook whispers into your ear, only for you to hear, which makes you chuckle under your breath.

“You’re just mad I had to explain it to you,” you whisper back, which gets you a kiss on your cheek.

2K notes · View notes

sankttealeaf · 8 months

Note

Can I request Tav and astarion but they get trapped together and astarion has to feed but feels like Tav offering isn’t really giving consent since they are trapped and he thinks they feel obligated. Bonus points if they’re also bickering and pining for other

this was so much fun to write! i may have gotten a little carried away but i hope you enjoy!! requests are still open if anyone is interested<3 i'm really enjoying writing these and am open for more ideas!!

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

trapped

pairing ; astarion x gender neutral!reader

summary ; a wild treasure hunt leads to an unfortunate situation where you find yourself stuck in a cave-in with Astarion. / ao3

other info ; wyll, karlach and gale get special roles in this because i physically cannot stop myself from including other companions in the background. no real spoilers for the game so you're free to read wherever you are in the game!!

warnings ; vampire feeding, blood mention, vague mention of Astarion's past, general conversation surrounding consent (but everything is consensual because that's hot)

word count ; 5.9k (again. went a little wild)

You have no idea how long you have been walking for. It feels like days though you are certain it was only a few hours. The lack of sunlight is starting to get to you and the cramped cave system you are walking through is really not where you wanted to be today.

Was it a little ridiculous to be chasing a lead you found on a note on a dead traveller? Probably. Did you have to convince everyone that it wouldn't be a waste of their time? Yes. But here you are, travelling in the dark to hunt down buried treasure.

Karlach was more than happy to join you, in fact she was the first one who volunteered to be part of the “treasure hunting team”, as she called it. She managed to get Wyll involved and you were happy with this group. As you were getting ready to leave you had a last minute addition to the team - Astarion. Why he wanted to join you trekking through a damp cave, you had no idea. You weren’t going to ask, either.

So, here you are in the depths of a cave system, following a badly drawn map that should lead you all to hidden treasure. It took you way too long to get to this location and the day is already drawing to a close. You are certain you weren’t going to make it back to camp before nightfall. This treasure has to be worth it.

Through flooded areas and tight walkways, the deeper you get into the cave the quicker your hopes that this treasure would be easy to find crumbles. On the map it looks simple, yet the actual cave was difficult to navigate and you are not as prepared as you thought you would be. Perhaps you should have taken the spare rope from Halsin before you left camp. Karlach spends the time picking up interesting rocks she comes across, rushing over to show you with a grin on her face and a list of places to put it back at camp. You have a few rocks she gave to you in your pocket and you are glad that her optimism never falters the longer you travel. Wyll has marked arrows on the walls to keep track of where you have been, which is an idea that didn't even cross your mind until you noticed him doing it. And Astarion is… complaining.

Maybe complaining is the wrong word. It's more like he has been announcing loudly how he thought this would be an easy task to complete. He didn't sign up to be wading through knee deep cave water or scrambling over rocks to get to the next area. Neither did you, but you aren’t complaining about it.

You have managed to drown out his comments for the most part, keeping your focus on following the map and making sure not to get lost. There have been a few times where you almost walked on some loose stone and went plummeting down into the depths of the cave and you really didn't fancy getting stuck down here. You have also noticed the further you went into the cave the more dust and debris that fell from the ceiling. A sinking feeling begins to settle in your stomach and you approach each step with caution.

“Personally I think this map is leading us to a dead end,” Astarion says as he slinks up next to you, ignoring how lost in focus you were. “We should cut our losses and return back to camp before nightfall, don’t you agree?”

The dust from the ceiling drops in front of you again as you pause, reaching an arm out to stop Astarion in his tracks. “Be quiet, would you?”

“Everything alright?” Wyll asks from behind, hand reaching for his rapier in case something jumps out to attack.

Either something was down here with you or the cave ceiling isn’t as strong as you would like. You didn't know which thought was worse. Turning back to Wyll and Karlach, you shake your head slightly. “Be on your guard. Something’s off.”

“This is what I’ve been saying for the past five minutes. Have you seriously not been listening to me?” Astarion asks as you continue walking at a slower pace now, acutely aware of every foreign noise that doesn’t come from your group.

“Not really. I’m trying to keep us alive here,” you reply quietly, eyes darting from the floor to your surroundings in quick succession.

You stop in your steps as you hear the rumbling grow louder, though Astarion keeps talking even after you shush him again. It’s a rolling noise, one that grows the more you focus on it; a sound of rock against rock and a low rumble from above. You cast your gaze upwards and spot the beginnings of a large crack splitting the ceiling. Like pressure on ice, it splits into several off shoots before crumbling beneath whatever weight was on it.

You quickly pull Astarion towards you, dragging him away from the collapsing ceiling as you both fall to the floor with a thud. In an instant, your surroundings grow darker as a wall of stone and rubble barricades you and Astarion from Wyll and Karlach. The dust settles from the sudden upheaval of rock and the noise you have been hearing stops. Shit.

“Are you both alright?” Wyll calls out from behind the rubble and you can hear the sound of stone grating against stone which only cements your idea that this could be an early grave for you both if you didn't think fast.

You glance over at Astarion who is dusting himself off, rubbing at his elbow in a way that makes you assume he landed on it wrong. “We’re alive… just.”

“Does the map show any other ways to get to you? I’m not certain we can budge all this stone…” Wyll asks as you hear the sound of metal against the stone and a disappointed sigh from Karlach. You sit upright, grabbing the map from where it fell onto the ground and frown. It was a one way system, looping back around the way you came once you got to where the treasure was. This pathway is the only way in and out of the cave. You are stuck.

“So, uh… bad news… There’s no other way around,” you reply. The silence that follows on their end is not a good sign, however it is quickly broken by Astarion.

“What?!” He looks at you in dismay, his face falling at the thought of being stuck here. “You cannot be serious.”

“We’ll find a way to get you guys out! Don’t even stress!” Karlach yells. Her voice gets quiet but you can still hear her. “Do you think they’re stressed, Wyll?”

You take a moment to assess the cave-in, trying to budge a few rocks out of place but nothing moves. Perhaps with enough force they could be displaced, but you don’t have anything on that level right now.

“Wyll? Do you have anything that could push the rocks away?” you ask, hoping he has something in or on him that could force the rocks out of place.

“I don’t…” he pauses for a moment, before you hear him click his fingers together as an idea forms. “But Gale does. I know the spell you are hinting at. We can go back and get him?” he suggests, and you run the time it would take for them to get back to camp and back here again in your head. They would be back by early morning at the earliest… Which means you will need to spend the night in a cold, slightly damp cave. You give Astarion a look.

“Don’t look at me like that. I’m not going to dig our way out. My hands are way too delicate for that,” he says, turning his back to the problem at hand.

“Gale seems to be our only way out, which means we may need to spend the night here…” you tell him.

“Gale? Our only hope? What is he going to do, talk the rocks to death?” He rolls his eyes. “Surely there’s another way out?”

“There isn’t.” You sigh, rubbing at your temples as you begin to feel a stress headache forming. “And he can use spells, Astarion. Gale can shatter the rocks or something. They’re too tightly packed to move them normally. We’re stuck here until he can sort it out.”

“Great. Wonderful, actually. I’ve always wanted to spend a night in a cave. Thanks for this, really!” His voice drips with sarcasm and you have to physically hold yourself back from getting annoyed at him.

“I didn't personally cause this cave in! You think I want to be stuck here with you like this? Gods, you are infuriating.”

Before the argument could escalate, Wyll calls out from behind the wall of rocks that he and Karlach are going to head back to camp and grab Gale. They’ll be as quick as they can, he promises. It gives you some reassurance that you will not be stuck here for too long with Astarion.

The sound of your fellow companions leaving fills you with anxiety as the clock begins to tick on getting you both out alive. This is not how you planned this trip to go and you are starting to wonder if this was even worth it at this point. Astarion didn't seem to think so.

"For your information, I am not sleeping on the floor with no bedroll. This is expensive fabric, I’m not ruining it.” Astarion gestures to his outfit as you begin to set yourself down on the ground, ready to call it a day.

“We’ve camped in worse places, I don’t understand why you’re complaining so much about this,” you say, rummaging through your bag and thanking the Gods you packed some food for yourself.

“At least at camp I have my tent. And all my belongings. And comfort. Do I need to go on?” He shifts in his stance, looking down the tunnel to avoid your gaze.

You glare at him. “Okay, fine, I guess this isn’t an ideal place to rest. But I don’t want to travel too far in case we get lost. And then we’ll probably die down here. Do you want that?”

He sighs but doesn’t make a comment. You take it as a win.

After placing the contents of your bag onto the ground you come to two conclusions. One: the floor is far too damp to start a fire which means you are going to spend the next few hours cold. Two: you have enough food for yourself, but you aren’t sure if Astarion bought anything of use with him. You didn't see him pack much before he said he was joining you. He is still standing when you look over to him again.

“Are you going to stand all night?” you ask as he nods, still avoiding your gaze.

“Like I said. Expensive fabric. I’m not ruining it because someone got us trapped in here,” he replies and you roll your eyes. Wordlessly, you unbuckle your cloak from your shoulders and place it down on the floor for him. The dampness of the floor is most likely going to ruin your nice and expensive cloak, but at least it will stop him complaining. Hopefully.

He looks from you to the cloak and back again, confusion crossing his face and disappearing as quickly as it arrived. “What’s that for?”

“Just sit down. Please.” You start to reorganise the contents of your back, returning the tinderbox and an almost empty waterskin but keeping out the food you swiped before you left. When you look back up, you see Astarion has sat down atop your cloak. You hold back a smile.

The silence that falls over the both of you is broken by droplets of water or the sound of other vaguely ominous cave noises. If your timing is right you are certain it was now early evening. Hopefully Karlach and Wyll have left the cave by now.

“Did you bring any food?” you ask after a little while passes. It’s only when the question leaves your lips that you realise it is a stupid one. The look Astarion gives you only enhances your point.

“Yes, actually. I have three live rabbits tucked neatly away in my bag in case I fancied a snack,” he responds, opening up his pack with a flourish. “Did you want one? I’m so happy to share.” A few books and his trusty thieves tools were the only things you spot before he shoves his bag to the side with a frown. “Of course I didn't bring any food.”

You feel bad holding a stale bread roll in your hand as he tells you that and you lower it down slightly, letting him continue his rant.

“I was considering going to hunt down a cave bat or something. Not what I wanted, but I guess a life of “adventure”-” he says the word with exaggerated air quotes around them, “means that I bury the idea that I’ll ever get a lavish meal again.” He crosses his arms in annoyance.

“You shouldn’t eat a bat. You could get sick. Rabies, or something like that,” you tell him, though you aren’t sure your fun fact is a welcomed sight right now. The look on his face tells you that it isn't. “Halsin told me that after I tried to convince him to keep a family of bats that were living near one of the spots we set up camp a while ago…”

Astarion blinks, unsure of how he is supposed to react to that nugget of information. “Now my meal options have been reduced to nothing. Thanks. You’re truly a beacon of hope.”

An idea pings into your mind as you take in how irritated he is getting, most likely from the lack of food on his part. Not that you have been keeping tabs on when he would feed but from your calculations it had been a while. The last time he fed on you was a week or so ago and you still felt the sting of his fangs against your neck even now. It is an uncomfortable sensation and you were certain that it would only happen again in dire circumstances.

This feels like a dire circumstance…

“You can feed on me if you want.” The words come out quickly before you have a chance to think too deeply about the implications of it. You take a mouthful of bread to stop yourself from taking back the offer.

The irritation on his face dissipates into a softer look, one you didn't recognize. His usual quick remarks have vanished at your suggestion and it takes him a good minute to respond. The minute feels like hours to you as you start to regret even offering. Was it weird? Did you say it in a strange way?

“You don’t… I mean, I’m sure I’ll manage until we get back to camp.” He waves nonchalantly though you are unsure if he really means it.

“No offence but I have noticed you lagging behind a little lately…” you begin, unable to hold your gaze on him. “I just assumed, well, y’know… Plus I have a lot of blood to spare, so I don’t mind.” You cringe a little at that last sentence, wondering why you said it like that.

“It’s really not a big deal, I’m perfectly fine! If need be I can always go and find…” he grimaces at the next few words that leave his mouth, “a cave rat or something.”

You aren’t sure if you should feel offended at how he hasn’t jumped on the opportunity to feed from a person. Maybe it is because of how little you allowed him to feed on you. Maybe he hates you and would rather drink blood from a rat than you. You push that thought away with a frown.

“Astarion, I’m offering this to you if you need to,” you say as you set down your own food. “I’d rather you do it while I’m awake this time.” You see that he is thinking of more ways to put barriers between him and feeding on you and you wish he could be straightforward with you and say no.

“You’re all the way over there and like I said before, I don’t want to get my clothes wet,” he says and you can’t help but laugh at that. “What?”

“You can tell me no, it’s okay. I just thought I’d offer seeing as I really doubt you’ll find many cave rats around.”

He’s quiet for a moment and you can’t work out what he’s thinking. With what little you know about Astarion and his past you can’t help but assume he hasn’t had that many opportunities to say no to things.

He considers his words, opening and closing his mouth a few times before sighing, looking at you with a soft frown. “I don’t want you to feel like you are obligated to do this considering our circumstance.”

You blink in confusion at that, unsure why he feels that way. You wouldn't have offered if you didn't feel comfortable in allowing him to feed, so why was he convinced you were doing this because there was no other option?

“We haven’t built up much of a feeding rapport, that’s all! We haven’t… done this much. It still feels new.” He looks away and it clicks in your head at once - he’s nervous. You are also incredibly nervous about this, but if it means he is at the top of his game afterwards then the pain would be a small price to pay for it.

“I have no idea how else I’m supposed to say this: I’m giving you permission to feed on me, Astarion.” You want to know what he is thinking as your words hang in the air. You want to tell him that this is you telling him it’s okay, you’re wanting this just as much as he needs it.

He waits a moment, like he is expecting you to tell him you're joking or change your mind but it doesn't happen. When he realises you mean this and aren't saying it for the sake of it, he gives you a nod.

"Alright. Only if you're sure," he says quietly, moving over on your cloak to give you room beside him. You move over to sit next to him, glad to be off the cold floor and sitting on something that wasn't as uncomfortable.

"Is this alright? Do you need me to be in a certain position?" you ask quickly, shifting yourself from sitting on your knees to crossing your legs.

"It's easier if you lay down," he replies, quickly adding, "for the blood flow."

"Right. That makes sense." You check to see how much room you have of your cloak behind you before shuffling forward, coming face to face with Astarion for a moment. The sudden closeness causes you to stop in your tracks for a moment, holding his gaze for a moment longer than what is normal.

It's strange how you never really see Astarion without his guard up. Whenever you two bicker it was always with his signature smile on his face and a carefree laugh after each comment. But seeing him here and now with the gentle furrow of his brows and the soft lines etched along his face you can't help but try to memorise it all. Without even realising you found yourself moving a hand up to brush some hair from his face, stopping yourself once it rested ever so lightly against his cheek. You are about to pull away until you feel him lean into the touch, something you had not planned on happening.

The sound of a loose rock falling a little way away causes the moment to break as you pull away from him quickly, ready to move in case there was another cave in.

In an instant, the facade he has is pulled back up. "Are you trying to get me to starve to my death?" he asks once you have realised there was no chance of another incident. You laugh a little in response, cheeks warming up at the moment the two of you just shared.

"Wanted the last thing I saw to be something good. You know, in case you drink all of my blood and I die," you tease, before laying back on your cloak. The reality of what was about to happen is starting to settle in now and you keep your focus on the ceiling above you, not on Astarion.

"I promise you I won't kill you. I don't have any way of getting you back and I'd rather not have to explain to the others what happened," he replies, hands moving to either side of your head to hold himself up. He's at an angle, legs staying to one side of you. It's a little awkward and you can tell it's not ideal for him.

"That's good to hear! I do bring a scroll of revivify with me everywhere so we have a backup plan… just in case." It is hard to keep your gaze on the ceiling now as Astarion leans over you. Your heart pounds heavily against your chest and you cannot work out if it's because you know you are about to lose blood and it was working to keep it flowing or perhaps because of something else you didn't want to admit to yourself.

"Are you ready?" he asks softly, and you can already anticipate the sharp sting of his fangs piercing your skin. You give him a nod and turn your head to the side, exposing your neck to him.

He leans in and you can feel his breath against your neck. It takes everything in you to not turn to look at him, even seeing him so close out of the corner of your eye was enough to redden your cheeks. You hope he didn't notice.

The sudden pain is sharp and takes you off guard, reaching to grab onto Astarion's shoulder tightly to try and take your mind off of it. It's not as bad as the first time he fed from you, but it certainly isn't any better. He shifts positions as you see his legs now straddling you, and if anyone were to suddenly burst down the wall of rock it would be a rather embarrassing encounter for everyone. You forgot how intimate this whole ordeal could be.

You close your eyes as the pain subsides, now giving way to a feeling of numbness that crashes over you. You're very aware of the feeling of his lips against your neck and it would be so easy to let yourself imagine this was something else entirely. But then you move and the discomfort of your blood being removed from your body kicks back in and you have to stop yourself from allowing him to take too much from you. You give his shoulder a soft squeeze, and when there's no response from him you are forced to find your voice.

"Hey…" You mumble, tightening your grip on his shoulder. "Astarion..?"

He does nothing except press himself closer to you, savouring every last drop he could get. Black spots begin to fill your vision and with what little strength you had in you, you smack your arm down into his side to get him to stop.

He pulls away from your neck at the impact, blood smeared across his lips and his pupils dilated - you can hardly see the red anymore. Would it be odd to say that he looked so very handsome like this?

"Shit," he says breathlessly, "might have over indulged there. Sorry."

You give him a weak laugh, feeling your head spin at the sudden blood loss. "S'alright. Just glad you didn't kill me."

His eyes glance back at your neck as you speak, and when he leans you worry that he was going in for round two. You are taken aback when he licks across the area he had just bitten. If you weren't so dizzy you would have questioned him as he sits back, still straddling your waist.

"I'm not about to waste perfectly good blood," he says, noticing the confusion on your face. "Are you alright, though? You look a little pale."

You give him a thumbs up, still laying down. "All good. Missing some blood, that's all."

He nods, watching as you close your eyes again. You could quite easily drift off to sleep right now, the dizziness and the general feeling of not being right only adding to the need to rest. When you don't feel Astarion move off of you, you open one of your eyes to make sure he was okay.

"Are you alright?" you ask, catching him deep in thought.

"Oh, yes, I'm great. Wonderful. Absolutely perfect," he replies too quickly for it to be truthful. You frown, sitting up slowly to be at eye level with him.

"Is there more blood there still?" you ask him, watching as his eyes keep going back to your neck. "If there is, you should get it."

His touch is so soft you cannot discern if he was cleaning up some blood on your neck or if it is a kiss. When it happens again you realise he isn't cleaning up your neck but kissing over the spot he had just bitten. It is a strange feeling and one you didn't expect to feel after being drained from your blood, but as he moves along your neck leaving faint kisses in his trail you wonder if perhaps he had similar feelings towards you as you did him. You have always been happy to push those feelings down, keeping your focus on the main goal at hand. But here, trapped in a cave with no one to bug you to keep on track, maybe you could indulge yourself this once.

Astarion pulls back from your neck to look at you, his lips are still tinted a softer red from your blood and you find yourself staring at them for a little too long. Gently, you place your hand back on his cheek, smiling when he leans into the touch again. His hand moves to cover yours and you are still in shock at how soft his movements are.

The gap between you both closes slowly and you are aware of what this would lead to. Playful remarks and comments about hooking up were one thing, but this was not playing out like how you imagined it would. You didn't picture yourself being stuck in a cave with him, for starters. You want to ask him if this was okay, if this was even allowed.

You opened your mouth to speak and are suddenly caught off guard by the sound of more rocks falling elsewhere, echoing through the cave. The sudden sound causes you to flinch as you both turn to look in the direction it came from, further along the tunnel. At least it wasn't the way you came, you thought.

Astarion looks back at you after a moment and clears his throat, sitting back to put some distance between you both.

"You should get some rest. I'll, uh, keep watch in case the others turn up," he says quickly, climbing off of your lap in a clumsy manner. You can't help but feel slightly sad at the loss of his touch, but sleep was begging for you to join it.

"Wake me if anything happens," you tell him as you lay back down, already closing your eyes. You don't hear his response as sleep greets you with open arms.

Sounds of your name being called over and over again wakes you up from your slumber. Your head hurts and you feel as if you've been fighting fifty different battles and didn't win one of them. There was a pressure on your chest and as you come to you are met with a mess of white hair laying on you, Astarion's arms wrapped tightly around your midriff. You smile softly at the scene, hand moving to brush through his hair slowly. He hums in response but the moment is broken by your names being called again.

"Are you both still alive?" It's Wyll, you note, which only means he and Karlach had either gotten lost and returned back or they had Gale with them.

"We're still here!" you call back, still groggy from sleep. "Is Gale with you?"

Gale's voice is heard next and you have never been so happy to hear him speak. "The one and only!"

"Thank the Gods. Gale, I promise you that I will buy you whatever you want when we get to Baldur's Gate, just please tell me you have a way to get us out of here," you say, hoping that he had good news with him.

Astarion stirs from all the loud conversation, pressing himself closer to you in an attempt to drown out the noise. You move your hand from his head as you try to sit yourself up. It doesn't work.

Gale continues speaking. "I have a way to get you both out, don't you worry. I will need to ask you both to stand as far back as possible. I mean it. Far. Back."

You give Astarion a shake of his shoulder, trying to wake him. "Hey. Get up. We're almost out of here."

"This is not a good time to wake me up," he grumbles, swatting your hand away with a groan. "Too early."

"Gale is literally on the other side ready to blow this wall of rocks up. Wake up." You continue to shake him awake, ignoring the groans of protest.

He turns to look up at you with pleading eyes. "He can wait five more minutes. Please?"

You want to say yes, to give in and allow himself a moment of comfort. But your back hurts from laying on rock for hours and you want nothing more than to sit in your own tent and get some fresh air. You sit up quickly, causing Astarion to lose his place on your chest and sit up with you.

"I cannot believe this betrayal," he exclaims dramatically, giving you a half-asleep but playful glare. "Being this pretty doesn't come easy, you know. I need my sleep."

"You don't even sleep," you mumble, ignoring how your head sways as you push yourself up to your feet. "And you're pretty enough already." You blame the aches and pains for that last comment, though it doesn't seem to go past Astarion as quickly as you wish it did.

He grins. "You think I'm pretty?"

"Shut up and move your things. I want to get back to camp." You begin to pack away your belongings, shoving things back into your pack and waiting for Astarion to do the same. He picks up your cloak and gives it a quick brush off before putting it on himself. You're too busy putting distance between yourself and the rocks to even notice this. He slides up next to you after a moment, arm wrapping around your shoulder with a grin.

"Okay, I think you're good to go!" you yell, hoping Gale can hear you through the wall. You get confirmation almost immediately afterwards.

You feel Astarion lean towards you as you wait. "I think we should get trapped together more often. Who knows what else it could lead to?"

"More puncture holes in my neck, probably," you mumble in response. He laughs, his lips meeting your neck again just under the place where he drank from you hours ago.

"But you're so delectable," he whispers and you glare at him. The blush rising on your cheeks tells him you aren't mad.

With an almighty crash of thunder, the rocks that made up the wall you have been trapped behind suddenly disperse, the larger ones shattering and the smaller ones turning into dust. You cover your face at the impact and when your ears stop ringing you turn to see Gale, Wyll and Karlach on the other side.

Karlach immediately runs over, arms outstretched and embracing both you and Astarion without thinking.

"I'm so glad you both aren't dead. I have no idea how I'd break the news to Scratch and the Cub! Or everyone else, I suppose," she says once she lets go of you both, your clothes slightly singed by the warmth emanating from her.

"Did you find the treasure?" Gale asks when the three of you walk back to him and Wyll and is only slightly disappointed when you shake your head no. "Ah, well, nothing lost then! I'm sure there's plenty of other treasure to be found. Hopefully not in caves, though. Might I suggest avoiding them in the future?"

"Suggestion taken. I miss sunlight," you reply, feeling Astarion's hand move from your shoulder to the small of your back.

"We had fun though, didn't we? A cave-in can certainly bring people closer together. Right, my dear?" Astarion grins, giving you a wink.

"As much as we all would love to know what that's insinuating, we really should get out of here before there's another freak accident," Wyll suggests, gesturing to the way out.

You nod, wanting nothing more than to breathe fresh air and be away from cramped spaces.

The journey out of the cave is long and feels longer due to the woozy feeling of having a little less blood than you started the journey with. You find yourself leaning on Astarion for support every now and then and he is more than happy to wrap an arm around you to keep you up. The two of you are at the back of the group; you didn't want your slow pace slowing everyone else down.

"I never thanked you earlier," Astarion says quietly to you, a look of sincerity on his face.

"Oh, it's no problem," you reply, nudging him with your elbow. "Just don't almost kill me next time."

"Next time?" He raises an eyebrow with a grin. "You'll allow me to go for seconds?"

"As long as you treat me as nicely as you did afterwards, I may consider it." Thinking about the almost kiss that happened after makes you blush and Astarion shrugs casually, though you can spot the faintest hint of pink spreading across his cheeks.

"Maybe. We can always do that without the biting part," he suggests. "Only if you want."

"I'd like that." You give him a smile, leaning over to press a kiss onto his cheek. "Only if you want, too."

The first sign of daylight causes you to pull away from him before he can respond as you rush over to the opening of the cave with Karlach, thankful to get fresh air again.

Astarion watches you go, listening to you cheering and praising Gods you didn't believe in. How quickly his plans could crumble. How quickly you made him feel accepted. There was a knot present in his stomach that was slowly untangling itself the more he thought about intimacy with you. Perhaps, one day, he would want that with you.

#astarion x reader #astarion x tav #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #astarion x gender neutral reader #; tealeaf's writing

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girlgenius1111 · 2 months

Text

say it again

alexia x reader something... slips out accidentally. alexia is more into it than you expected. smut. 18+

cw: mami kink. breeding kink. thigh riding. fingering. strap on use. dom/sub dynamics. praise kink.

-----

Both you and Alexia had been busy beyond belief in recent weeks. So, when she slid out of bed early on the day you were both supposed to have off, you latched onto her shirt and refused to let go.

“Amor, I have to go,” Alexia whispered, although she slid back into the warm cocoon of blankets, and wrapped you back up in her arms.

“No. Stay.” You grumbled, tightening your arms and wrapping your legs around her too, for good measure.

“I have to go,” she repeated, kissing your temple and attempting to slide out of your grip. You were about to remind her that neither of you had training that day, when you remembered somewhere in your sleep-hazed brain that Alexia had mentioned coaching a game at the Barça academy that morning. An idea found its way into your brain, and you forced yourself to sit up, allowing Alexia to escape the bed. She looked at you suspiciously as she headed for the bathroom, never having seen you give in so easily. In fact, she still had 10 minutes to lay in bed with you, having set her alarm early because she knew you’d capture her for more cuddles.

“I’m coming with you.” You declared, smiling happily at your girlfriend when she poked her head out of the bathroom, a slight frown on her face.

“Bebita, you will be bored, and you will distract me.” Alexia was referring to your rather interesting habit of watching Alexia. There was a certain look you got on your face when Alexia took charge on the pitch that made her crazy. You both kept it under control when you played together, but when one of you was out injured or on the bench, there were few games that didn’t end in rather passionate sex once you arrived home. You both loved to watch each other, and you really loved to watch Alexia be in charge. This was why Alexia absolutely did NOT trust you to accompany her to coach this youth game.

“No, I won't, I promise. I’ll sit in the stands the whole time. No one will even know I’m there. ”

Alexia simply raised her eyebrow at you doubtfully, before turning away to head to the closet. You scrambled out of the bed and followed after her, wrapping your arms around her abdomen. She chuckled, but continued to rifle through her sweatshirts, picking out the right Barça one for the day.

You kissed her shoulder blade, peeking out from the small tank top she was wearing. “Please, Ale. We’ve barely seen each other these past few weeks. I miss you.”

Alexia melted, turning around and wrapping her arms tight around you. “Okay, bonita. If you promise not to distract me.”

-----

You’d had every intention not to distract your girlfriend, really you did. Watching her with the kids, though, was much more challenging than you expected. It wasn’t stern Alexia that you got; it was soft Alexia, and it was making something inside of you melt into a puddle.

Alexia with a whistle slung around her neck, leading the very little kids through some basic drills. Patiently directing them around the pitch. Very softly kicking the ball in their direction. Shouting words of encouragement every second, even when it was just in response to one of the kids falling down and getting up.

Alexia, standing on the side lines, whistle caught in her mouth, hands on her hips, taking the match just a touch too seriously.

Alexia in a tight pair of athletic shorts, ass on full display, although it always was, regardless of what she was wearing.

Alexia rushing onto the pitch when one of her players fell; it was nothing more than a scraped knee, but she carried the sniffling boy off the field and over to his parents, ensuring him that he was being very brave.

You’d never really gotten the appeal of being pregnant before. And sure, you wanted kids, but you’d never craved them, never desperately wanted to watch your partner turn into a parent with you. Sat in the stands, though, watching Alexia interact with these kids like she was born to do it, you rethought all of that.

You were staring, and you knew it, eyes firmly trained on your girlfriend as she turned around, bringing her shirt up to wipe at her face. It was a hot day, and she was standing directly in the sun. Her eyes caught yours as she did so, lips pulling up into a very small smirk, before she turned back around, taking a sip of water. You realized your mouth was, embarrassingly, hanging open. The things Alexia could do to you, without even trying; it wasn’t fair.

The midfielder could feel your eyes on her for the remainder of the match, and she struggled to stay focused. Her mind, too, was elsewhere, somewhere in the future. Where she was coaching your guys’ kid, with you watching proudly from the sidelines. She wanted it, desperately, and it caught her off guard. The rest of the match passed slowly as both of you were eager to get home. Even though you’d known what you’d been signing up for when you forced Ale to let you come watch, you couldn’t help but feel a little starved for attention. It was ridiculous, but you weren’t one to shy away from the things you wanted. So, when the match ended, and Alexia led the kids to shake hands with the other team, you headed down, impatiently waiting for her. The hug you brought her into was one that belonged at the end of a difficult match, not at the end of a children’s match where most of the goals were accidental.

“Hola,” she sang softly in your ear, feeling you inconspicuously press a light kiss to her neck. Your lips didn’t leave, though, and Alexia pulled you back, giving you a warning look.

“You are all red, amor, are you warm?” The question was paired with an adorable look of concern washing over her face; Alexia was always very aware of your less than impressive heat tolerance, and she grabbed the hat you were holding in your hand, placing it on top of your head.

You were warm, but the redness was due more to Alexia’s close contact with your body, when you were already very aware of her, than the heat, although it wasn’t helping.

“It’s warm out.” You agreed anyway, before smiling innocently up at her. “Can we go home, baby?”

Alexia’s lips twitched. “Of course.”

-----

Alexia had parked in a different parking lot than the rest of the attendees, and by the time you made it over there, you were debating whether you could wait until you arrived home for Alexia to touch you. The way she led you through the parking lot, hand in yours, body hovering protectively in front of you even when there was no one around, was only increasing the deep need for her to do anything to you.

You decided to take matters into your own hands, noticing that the area around you was devoid of other people. When Alexia opened your door for you, something she insisted upon even though you were completely capable of opening your own door, you smacked her ass, climbing into the car like you hadn’t done anything. Alexia jumped slightly, and her eyes narrowed at you as she shut the door behind you.

The minute your girlfriend was in the driver's seat, you were leaning over the center console, attaching your lips to her neck. Alexia exhaled sharply, minutely tilting her head to the side.

“You promised to be good.” She said quietly, and you noted the very slight shake to her voice that told you she was, in fact, feeling the effects of what you were doing to her. You pulled back briefly, nipping at her ear as you did so.

“Are you not enjoying this?”

“It does not matter. You promised to be good, and you are breaking that promise.” She warned, gently shoving you back to your seat. You blinked at her, not used to the hard edge her voice had taken on.

“Ale,”

“No. You will take what I give you at home.”

You couldn’t pretend the way Alexia was looking at you disapprovingly wasn’t filling you with arousal. As badly as you wanted to be good for her, you also desperately wanted her to make you be good for her. And it seemed this was her plan.

-----

You trailed into the house behind her, not quite sure what to expect when you were behind closed doors. It wouldn’t be the first time Alexia was rough with you, and you enjoyed it. Something seemed different, though, and there was a tension in the room you couldn’t quite identify. Or, if you could, you weren’t quite willing to admit it yet.

Alexia backed you up against the wall just inside the front door, her face mere inches from yours, capturing your wrists in her hands and pinning them behind you. She was looking at you, sternly, but also so… softly. Like she would take care of you, even if she made you work for it first. Your stomach was filled with butterflies, in a way it hadn’t been in a while around her. You were beginning to have an idea of what you wanted, you just weren’t quite sure she wanted it too.

“You have been very bad today, bonita. I do not know what I am going to do with you.”

“M- Ale, please, take me to bed.” You almost slipped up, and you blinked at your girlfriend, hoping to god that she hadn’t caught it.

Alexia leaned back and was quiet for a moment, her eyes searching yours.“What was that?”

“What was what?” You replied, feeling blood rush to your cheeks, avoiding your girlfriend’s gaze at all costs.

“You almost called me something… it sounded like it started with an M…” Alexia whispered, moving closer to lay kisses on your neck. She knew where your head was at, somehow, as she always did, and she was very on board. It had been something you’d both been thinking about for a while, but neither of you were brave enough to bring it up.

“Alexia,” you whined, struggling to form a single coherent thought.

“That is not my name, amor. Not right now.” She whispered, her teeth capturing your ear and tugging lightly. You went practically limp in her arms, a low keen escaping your lips.

“Mami,” you whispered, feeling Alexia’s grin against the skin of your neck. You realized that Alexia liked the title just as much as you did, if not more.

“There you go, bonita. Mi mala niña, you can listen, hmm?”

“I can, I am listening. I’m your good girl.” You argued, pressing your forehead to the blonde’s somewhat desperately.

Alexia tutted quietly. “You were not listening before. I am not sure you are mí buena niña.”

“I am, mami, I promise,”

You’d barely finished speaking before Alexia was capturing your lips in a heated kiss, her tongue licking into your mouth, her teeth nipping at your bottom lip, in a manner that was almost overwhelming. She pulled away from you with a wet smack, her smile beyond devious as she took in your blown pupils, the downright submissive look on your face.

“You want to prove to me you are my good girl?” She murmured, dragging her finger lightly down one side of your face, watching as your eyes fluttered shut, struggling to answer her.

“Sí, por favor. Let me show you.”

“Vamos, mí zorrita.” With that, Alexia swept you up into her arms easily, throwing you over her shoulder and heading for the bedroom.

It wasn’t unusual for Alexia to take full control, as she was doing as she carefully placed on the ground, removing her clothes and directing you to do the same before scooching up the bed to lean against the headboard. What was new, though, was the feeling filling your body, like Alexia didn’t even need to ask you to do anything; you’d just do it if it was what she wanted. Making Alexia feel good would make you feel good. And Alexia knew better than anyone on the face of the earth what you needed.

So, the minute she gestured for you to move on top of her, you were scrambling forward. Ignoring the slightly condescending smirk Alexia sent your way, and the blush that lit up your cheeks as she did so.

Alexia settled you on one of her thighs, the smooth skin hitting your core perfectly. You barely contained a whine at the contact, and Alexia smirked up at you.

“You are wet for mami, no?”

“Yes, for you, only you,” you stuttered, feeling incredibly turned on considering Alexia had barely touched you at this point.

Alexia’s voice was low and possessive when she spoke next.“You want to make a mess on my thigh, bebé?”

“Yes, please,” you begged, her hands still keeping your hips completely still, even as you tried to grind down against her,

“Yes please what?”

“Fuck, please mami, please,”

“Buena niña,” she replied softly, the quiet, affection filled tone she was using making you fall against her, wrapping your arms around her neck almost desperately. Your motions were stuttering, no rhythm to them. Your head was too empty, your body too aroused to get you where you needed to be. “You need my help, bebé? You need mami to do it for you?”

You thought you might be dying. Everytime Alexia said the word, you crumbled just a little bit more. You’d never felt this desperate, this needy before in your entire life. It was almost beyond words. You just needed her. And at the same time, you couldn’t do it yourself, couldn’t get yourself to move the right way.

“Need you,” you cried out. Luckily, Alexia seemed to take mercy on you, her hands beginning to guide your core to slide against her thigh. She leaned up, pressing her lips to yours in a slow kiss, almost as if she knew you could only take so much at once. It was intoxicating, being pressed up against her, feeling her wet thigh on your dripping cunt, her hands in your hair, her teeth tugging on your lip.

You whimpered pathetically into her mouth, encouraging her to speed her motions up.

“Am I making you feel good, princesa? Tell me.” She murmured, pressing her forehead against yours, her face so close you could feel her hot breath on your lips.

“So good, mami. You feel so good,” you whined, and Alexia almost moaned, too, at how entirely gone you sounded.

“You are being so good for me, hmm? Do you like it when I take control? When I help you get yourself off on my thigh like a needy slut? Does it make your pussy drip, princesa?”

“Jesus christ,” you replied, every word she spoke edging you closer and closer. It had been minutes, only minutes, and you were already about to fall apart on top of Alexia.

“I want you to come on my thigh, sí?” She said lowly, and suddenly, as soon as she said the words, you were teetering on the edge, just one perfect movement away from coming.

“Mami, fuck, please,” you gritted out, teeth clenching together as Alexia worked you harder and harder against her, until your body tensed for a minute, and you fell silent.

“Que buena, princesa, que bonita.” The blonde woman whispered, watching your face in awe as you collapsed against her, breathing heavily. Her hands slowed their movements, until you were left rubbing yourself against Alexia’s thigh very slowly, and very jerkily.

Alexia didn’t wait very long until she was easing you away from her, gripping your face in between her hands.

“I want to fuck you,” she whispered, watching as your breath stuttered. “Can I fuck you?”

“Yes, mami, I need your cock,” you begged, knowing you said exactly the right thing when Alexia rolled you off her with a smirk, and headed for the bedside drawer.

Alexia liked to fuck you from behind, more than anything. She loved your ass, loved to watching it as she fucked you, so you rolled onto your stomach, looking questioningly at her when she tapped your side.

She was kneeled behind you, gazing down with a hungry look on her face. “No, on your back. I want to see your face when I fuck you wide open,”

You barely withheld a moan, then, as you rolled over and spread your legs. Alexia roughly pushed them to the side, settling in between them, and plunging a finger into you without warning.

“Shit,” you cried.

“You are soaked, mi amor. You need mami to fuck you now?” She asked, quickly adding a second finger when it was clear you could take it.

If anything was hotter than calling Alexia mami, it was hearing her call herself mami.

“Need you, mami,” you repeated for what felt like the 8th time so far. It was all you could think or articulate. You just needed her.

When Alexia pressed her cock in, you knew instantly that you wouldn’t be lasting very long. You were already gripping the bed sheets in your hands, and Alexia was already starting an unforgiving pace.

Alexia fucked you harder than she ever had before, her hands pulling your hips to meet her thrusts, her thighs burning, her breath heaving as she worked herself in and out of you. She was getting worked up herself, watching the way her cock disappeared into your dripping cunt, the way your clit throbbed, the way you looked up at Alexia like she was the only other person in the world.

You were so far gone, so lost in the pleasure, and you knew Alexia was getting close too by the way she whimpered every few thrusts, a sound very un-Alexia, but one that made you bite your lip all the same. You wanted more from her, needed more. And what did you have to lose, really?

“In me,” you muttered, almost completely incoherent as Alexia moved herself in and out of you.

“Que?” she asked, not slowing down for even a second.

“Inside me, please,” you begged, blinking up at her with a look in your eyes that she’d never seen before.

Alexia was confused, momentarily. She was already inside of you. She watched you grow closer and closer, suddenly hit with your meaning.

She pressed her hand down on your lower stomach, and your back arched right off the bed. You threw your head back, practically screaming at this point at the sensation.

“Mami, mami, please,” you cried.

“You want me to come inside you?” She gasped, absolutely pounding into you now.

You nodded frantically. “Fill me up, mami, I need it”

“Mierda,” Alexia groaned, she was close too, suddenly, even though normally the friction of the strap wasn’t enough to get her off. Everything you were doing, though, everything you were asking for was almost overwhelming to her, and it was all she could do to keep pumping in and out of you, moving her free hand to circle your clit.

Your voice cut off abruptly, and your eyes slammed shut. You reached for your girlfriend, and she reached for you, too, removing her hand from your stomach and lacing her fingers with yours. Her forehead fell to your shoulder as she got louder than you’d really ever heard her.

“Gonna come, princesa, gonna come in your pretty pussy,” she managed, her words making you shudder underneath her.

It was the most intense thing you’d ever experienced. You felt yourself tighten around Alexia’s cock deep inside you, felt Alexia thrust one more time stop, frantically grinding herself against you as she, too, fell over the edge. Pleasure washed over the both of you, and you held tight to each other, as if your lives depended on it.

When it was over, you fell limp into the mattress, every clenched muscle unclenching as Alexia’s full weight dropped on top of you. It was the most comforting sensation, her hand shakily running through your hair, her hot and rapid exhales on your shoulder blade as she came down. You were still throbbing around her, and it was becoming too much, she was too big, too deep.

“Out, Ale, pull out,” you murmured. Alexia broke out of her mindlessness, sitting up and very delicately removing her cock. You whined deeply when she pulled it out all the way, brow scrunching as you squirmed underneath her.

If someone had asked you your name or what club you played for at that moment, you weren’t sure you’d be able to respond. You weren’t sure you could form words at all, really, only capable of reaching out for Alexia again, and sighing happily when she laid back down, pulling you to lay flush on top of her.

“Are you okay, amor?” She asked after a minute, when you still hadn’t spoken, and your eyes were still shut, face crammed into the crook of her neck.

You only hummed in response, barely registering that she was speaking to you. That was not good enough for your girlfriend, though, and she rolled you both over, until she was hovering over your body again, finger delicately tracing a pattern on your cheek. You opened your eyes, a faint smile on your lips.

“Bonita, are you okay?” She asked again.

“So good, Ale. My god. So so good.” You promised her, your smile only growing when Alexia’s face broke into one of relief.

“Muy buena,” she murmured, ignoring the annoyed whine you let out when she sat up off you. Alexia was undeterred, even when you reached out for her. The blonde left the room, briefly, and you felt your eyes inexplicably filling with tears.

When Alexia returned with a water bottle and granola bar in hand, she quickly grew frantic when she saw the tears dripping down your face. She dropped the items onto the bed, sitting you up and pulling you into her, your back against her chest.

“What is it, what is it?” She asked, panicked, wiping away the tears so gently, you almost started to cry again.

“I don’t know,” you cried, the words somewhere between a sob and a laugh. “I don’t know why I’m crying,”

Again, Alexia deflated, relieved, knowing that she hadn’t upset you. “Okay, that is okay. Drink some water for me please?”

The adorable grin on her face as she held the uncapped water out to you had you reaching for it without question, taking a few sips before handing it back to her.

“You too.” You reminded her. Alexia dutifully took a few sips, placed the bottle back on the table, and manhandled you until you were laying down next to her, her body wrapped around yours.

“Love you, love you, love you, love you,” she murmured in your ear, and you laughed in response, feeling happier than you think you’d ever felt in your whole life.

“I love you so much.” You whispered back, feeling Alexia smile hugely into your neck.

“Mi princesa,” she sighed. “How are you so perfect?”

“Because I’m with you,” you replied easily. “And you’re perfect.”

Alexia disagreed. In fact, she thought the opposite. She wasn’t going to argue with you now though, not after you’d made her deepest desire come true. Instead, she tugged you closer, kissing your neck repeatedly. There’d be time to remind you of your perfection later. Now, though, both of you were drifting closer and closer to sleep, and all Alexia wanted in that moment was to hold you close to her forever.

You’d happily let her.

------

this has been in my wips for actual weeks im im thrilled to be done with her i hope you like :)

#woso imagine #woso x reader #alexia putellas x reader #woso fanfics #woso one shot

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downbadf0rficppl · 4 months

Text

exposure therapy

Bucky x F!Reader

Summary: Bucky tends to avoid crowded spaces. He's afraid of something - either being recognised or being trapped or something else. He doesn't know. When you offer to help him get out of his comfort zone. He can't resist.

Word Count: 4.5K

Warnings: Creepy weirdo men (not Bucky), therapy, smut

Repost

You dipped into the subway, dodging in between passengers - it was rush hour and the subway was disturbingly crowded. You scrambled onto the platform, praying that your train was slightly delayed so you could get on in time. It wasn't.

You stood on the platform as more and more peopled filtered, the noise building to a cacophony of miserable voices. You took a step back, trying to back away from the edge, when a man shoved you through the crowd. You stumbled forward.

A gloved hand wraps around your arm, pulling you back towards the middle of the platform and into a warm chest. You start to pull away, not keen to be leaning into a stranger. A familiar cologne hit you. You’d bought him that cologne. You looked up to see a welcome face.

Bucky.

A vicious scowl was etched into his face, his arm now firmly around your waist. You smile up at him, and he catches your smile, returning it with a soft one of his own. You reach to hold onto his hand as the train pulls up to the platform. You both step on, grabbing onto the bar and jolting as the train gets going.

Bucky leans down to your ear, “You okay, doll?”

His hot breaths elicit shivers all down your spine. You nod at him, unable to push any words out and he looks at your peculiarly. He’s never known you to be lost for words.

You met Bucky once he started his court-mandated therapy sessions. You were the receptionist at the clinic, and you knew Dr Raynor’s reputation for being thorough – although it was your personal opinion that maybe, sometimes, she could take it easy on some of her patients. Bucky was one of them.

You’d gathered a lot from the months that he had been going to therapy. The major thing was that therapy was the reason he was usually in such a poor mood. If he walked in in a bad mood, his mood when he left was positively foul. He didn’t like how Dr Raynor pried – even if that was, in fact, part of the point of his therapy.

You’d gathered that he was quite a lonely man. In fact, when he first started coming to therapy, the fact you smiled at him surprised him. He’d warmed up to it over it, and nowadays, when he came to the office, he greeted you before you greeted him.

You started finding jokes to tell, or little interesting facts – anything to make him smile. You offered sweets to the kids, words of warmth to the adults, and jokes to Bucky. It all worked out. He laughed at your jokes, in the same way the kids enjoyed their sweets and the adults appreciated to the adults.

Unbeknownst to you, Bucky looked forward to seeing you. He was surprised by your smile – but only how beautiful it was. He’d never seen pure sunshine until he saw your face break into a smile. In fact, the sun could go dark, but he knew that the world would only adapt to revolve around you. He knew that his already did.

On his birthday, you were the only person who gave him a present – a rather expensive cologne that you had splurged on. You wanted him to feel special. Turns out you didn’t need to go to those lengths. You were one of very few people who even knew it was his birthday.

Bucky made a point of buying you flowers from time to time after that – and you made a point of hiding them from Raynor. You didn’t want your budding friendship to be another thing she digs deep into. He also wore the cologne every time you saw him, which made you smile. At least he liked the gift.

He got off at your stop with you, even though you insisted he didn’t need to. Something about, ‘it’s on my way,’ and ‘I’d feel better if I knew you got home safe, doll.’ You smiled as he walked next to you, hands tucked into his pockets, leading the way to your apartment. You walked in a comfortable silence, the noise of Brooklyn blaring all around you

“How was it?” You asked, looking up at him.

“Hmm?”

“The subway. How was it?” You knew that Bucky generally got quite claustrophobic. He’d avoided the subway for the first few months of living in Brooklyn and, even now, only took it when he absolutely needed to.

He looked at you, his eyes full of amused frustration, “Could be worse.” He lowered his voice, hoping you wouldn’t hear him, “Was better ‘cause it was with you.”

You smiled, “Call it exposure therapy.”

“Exposure therapy? What’s that?”

“It’s where you face your fears by confronting them head on.” He looked at you, still confused, “You know how you’re scared of enclosed spaces?” He nodded his head, “Well, exposure therapy would put you in an enclosed space – like the subway – to confront your fear.”

Bucky nodded his head, mulling over your words in his head. It doesn’t sound like a bad idea.

You came to your apartment lobby, Bucky following you inside. You told him that this is where you left him, and that you’d see him next week, same place, same time.

You were heading toward your apartment when he stopped you, “You know the exposure therapy thing you mentioned?”

You turned back around, “Yeah?”

“Is that a real thing?”

You nodded your head. Bucky swallowed nervously, not sure how to ask the question. You read his mind, “You wanna give it a go?”

He nodded. You grabbed his hand gently, rubbing your thumb over his knuckles.

“You should probably talk to the professional about how to actually go about it,” you chuckled at how his face darkened at the mention of Raynor, “but I’d love to help you out. Whatever you need.”

Bucky watched you as you disappeared into the stairwell, smiling all the way.

Just like you said, Bucky brought the idea of exposure therapy up with Dr Raynor in his next session. Surprisingly, she was almost immediately on board. She figured that it would be a good way for Bucky to get out of his comfort zone and confront some of his more irrational fears.

He immediately told you. You squealed – a sound that definitely shocked Bucky – grabbing his phone from his hand and adding your number as a contact.

He changed your contact to 'Doll' – not that it was necessary seeing that the only people that ever texted or called were Sam and Raynor. Guess you were another person to add the extremely exclusive club.

The next morning you dragged him to a coffee shop. Not just any coffee shop. The local Starbucks. You drag him in during the rush hour, holding his hand as he grumbles in the line.

"Did we really have to start this extreme?" He says, gazing behind and in front of him. You squeeze his hand, reassuringly.

"You'll be fine. Know what you want?"

You shuffled forward as another person moved out of the line.

The Starbucks worker sighed as you and Bucky walked up to the front of the line. You smiled at Bucky as he gripped your hand, unassuredly.

"Hi - um - can I - uh - get - uh... -" Bucky stumbled over his words. You ran your fingers over his knuckles soothingly, "cold brew - the smallest size."

The worker nodded his head, "that'll be...-" You drowned out his words as you stared up at Bucky's face. His face was still contorted in a grimace, but there was a glint of pride in his eyes. You gave yourself a mental high five.

Bucky paid for his drink and waited as you ordered an iced caramel macchiato with oat milk. Bucky wasn't sure he knew what any of that meant but he looked in awe as you complimented the cashier and made him blush. You had that kind of effect on people.

You grabbed your drinks and went to sit in Central Park, the sun streaming through the trees as you found a bench. You rested your arm next to his, keeping the contact between the two of you minimal.

"You like it?" You asked, staring him in the face. He took a sip and pulled a face.

"Too bitter." He said, sticking his tongue in disgust. You laughed. He celebrated internally, desperate to hear that sound directed toward him again.

"Really?" I thought you would have liked it. You know, given the dark and brooding look you've got going on." You deadpanned. He shoved you gently and you laughed again.

"Try mine," you said, handing over your drink and grabbing his. Yours was much nicer than his, sweeter and more milk too. He smiled in response and took another sip, "Keep it. I like cold brew." He tried to change your mind and hand you back your drink, but you were adamant.

"Let's play a game."

He looked at you, questioningly.

"20 questions."

He turned to face you.

"Rules are: one person asks a question both answer it...-"

"That's not how '20 questions' usually works."

"Well, that's how it works now. Also rapid-fire: you have to say the first thing that comes to mind."

"Ok, shoot." He leaned back, resting on his arm, occasionally taking sips from the macchiato.

"Favourite colour?" You went first, starting simple.

"Yellow," He said, not really thinking. His face blushed when his mind caught up to him though. You noted that for later.

"Mine's blue, like the sea." You responded, staring intently into his eyes. Bucky's eyes were blue, just like the sea on a stormy day. Easy to get lost in. Easy to get found in. Those eyes told you where home was. "Your turn."

"Ok, umm- favourite hobby?"

"Umm, I like painting. Helps me relax. Used to paint a lot as a kid, probably need to do it more often." Bucky stared at your lips as you talked, mesmerised by the way they move. "What about you, Buck?

"Me? Oh, I like reading."

"Oh yeah? What kind of books?"

"The Hobbit. Was my favourite back in the day. Read it with Steve all the time." He became quiet at the mention of his best friend, and you reached out to rest a hand on his.

"You wanna know my other favourite hobby?" Bucky nodded, meeting your eyes, "Helping my favourite super soldier get out of his comfort zone." Bucky's eyes lit up at that.

You stood up, offering Bucky your hand. He grabbed, faking back pain as he stood up. "Where to next, doll?"

"We're going grocery shopping." The groan that left him made you laugh out loud.

You walked into the Target near the compound. Neither of you actually lived in the compound, but this Target was bigger than any of the Targets in the city. You figured the bigger the Target, the more likely it was that Bucky would get out of his comfort zone.

He grabbed your hand and squeezes it tightly. You smiled up at him as you pulled out a trolley. Bucky grabbed it from you, hands tightening around the bar. You linked your arm with his.

"Ready?"

"No."

You smirked, patting his arm, "You'll be fine."

You perused through the aisles, occasionally handing Bucky an item. If you were too short to grab something, he'd reach up over your head and grab it for you. You flushed at that - the feeling of being caged between Bucky made you feel safe. Like nothing could ever touch you.

You walked ahead of Bucky, leaning on your tiptoes to grab some eggs from the shelf. You grab the carton, placing it in the trolley. He looks at you lovingly, your cheeks blushing under his gaze.

"Excuse me, could you move?" An old man shoves past the both of you. Bucky's gaze immediately hardens. The old man continues to grumble under his breath.

He moves to say something, but you grab his hand, shaking your head. Bucky pulls you into his chest, leaning to press his lips to your forehead. Butterflies erupt in your stomach as surprise washes over you. Clearly, his actions caught up to him as he froze up, muscles tightening under your hands. He tried to pull away but you keep your face nuzzled in his chest, arms wrapping tighter around him. You smiled as he relaxed into your hug.

He leaned down to whisper in your ear, "Should we get going, doll? More things to buy."

You nodded but kept your hand in his. He smiled as you leaned into him. This was nice. He could get used to this.

You finished shopping, scanning your things through in the self-service. You didn't have that many items, but Bucky refused to let you pay, whipping out the card that Stark gave him, with the excuse that he didn't use it enough - especially, given the amount of money that Stark had put on it.

You were giddy. Your shopping trip was a success - Bucky now knew that supermarkets weren't even half as scary as he thought. In fact, he even smiled at a worker on his way out.

Bucky helped you load the two shopping bags onto his bike, before strapping the helmet onto your head. You could get used to this.

After that day, you guys went out regularly. You tried restaurants and diners (Bucky preferred diners because it was less fancy and he felt more at home - "haven't changed much from the 40s", he'd said), you tried the gym (or rather, you dragged him to the gym with you on a random Tuesday morning when you had a spin cycle class - it wasn't that bad but Bucky stuck to training at the compound), you even took him to the cinema when they were showing a 'Lord of the Rings' rerun (Bucky almost kissed you when he heard the plan, but restrained himself - there was no way he was scaring you away now).

Therapy with Dr. Raynor became more bearable because it was just another excuse to see you. He'd put more effort into how he looked - combing his hair, keeping his beard trimmed how he knew you liked it.

Raynor picked up on it.

"I see your exposure therapy experiment is going well. What kinds of things have you been up to?"

Bucky stared out the window.

"James?"

He looked Raynor in the eye, before glancing at you through the window in the door. It was barely a shape, due to the frosted treatment on the window, but he knew it was you. He always knew.

"Shopping. She took me to the mall yesterday."

"That's a big step." Raynor said, noting that down with her pen, "How was it?"

"Wasn't that bad. We went into a shop she likes, then she asked me to pick a shop." Bucky looked down at his hands.

You had taken him into Sephora, promising him you only needed to get one thing. You run out of your favourite mascara and just needed to grab a tube. Bucky didn't know what mascara was, nor did he particularly care, but he followed you into the store nevertheless. You picked up the mascara you were looking for but kept milling around, looking to see if anything caught your fancy.

Bucky's hand found yours with relative familiarity, and you pulled him around as you explored. A man from across the shop gave him a sympathetic look.

You left Bucky for a moment to pick up a couple of face masks when the man from across the store made his way over. He patted Bucky on the shoulder amicably.

"Feel for you brother," he chuckled, moving past him. Bucky was confused.

You lined up behind him, mascara, face masks, and some liquid blush that you'd been meaning to get for a while in hand. You paid for the items, wishing the cashiers a good day. When you walked out, you asked Bucky where he wanted to go. It wasn't until you got to the clothes shop that he realised what the man meant.

He'd thought you guys were dating. The thought alone made Bucky want to smile. He gripped your hand tighter and didn't go for the rest of the trip.

Bucky looked up at Raynor and continued, "Then we got food and I dropped her home. Same as usual."

Raynor nodded, "Did it help?"

He shrugged, "I probably wouldn't go again. The mall isn't my kinda place."

"Why? Did something happen?"

"Too many teenagers."

Raynor smirked at that, "Any plans for this weekend?"

"Sam's taking me to a bar. Says we need a post-mission stress reliever."

Raynor nodded, "That'll be good for you, James. Enjoy it."

She stood up to open the door and Bucky followed closely behind. He left, wishing Raynor a good evening, before walking up to you with a smile.

"What can I do for my favourite super soldier today?" You asked, placing the sign-in/sign-out sheet in front of him.

"Maybe consider spending your Friday night at a bar with me?" He asked, nervousness hidden behind his confident facade. This was the first time he'd ever asked you on something resembling a date.

You saw through his front, "Is this just because you don't want Sam to spend the entire night trying to set you up with someone?"

"Maybe?"

You laughed.

"Is that a yes?"

"Sure, Buck. I'll go to the bar with you. Pick me up at 7? I'll send you the address."

When you opened the door to your apartment, Bucky's jaw dropped. He thought he'd died and gone to heaven and you were the angel waiting to ring him in.

You smiled at his awestruck expression, patting his cheek before grabbing your hand and leading him to the stairwell he had just walked up. He followed you like a puppy.

He fastened the helmet tightly on your head, before speeding down the road, going as fast as you like it. You rest your head on his back, arms wrapped tightly around his waist.

You waltzed into the bar together, Sam's status as the new Captain America making it easy to skip the queue. You grabbed drinks - a cosmopolitan for you and an old fashioned for him. You teased him for his choice but Bucky just smiled.

You looked around for Sam, but he was nowhere to be found "Probably caught up doing Captain America stuff," you tell Bucky, whose eyebrows had been furrowed almost since you arrived.

You drag Bucky to the dance floor after two drinks, and you stay there for half the night, waiting for Sam to show up. You dance and dance and dance, teaching Bucky some new moves that wouldn't have been legal the last time that Bucky came out dancing with a girl. Bucky's phone buzzed in his pocket.

He leaned down to whisper in your ear, "Sam's calling, I'll be back in a second." You smile up at him, continuing to dance once he'd left.

Not minutes had passed, when you feel a presence behind you. Thinking it was Bucky, you turn around to smile at him, only to come face to face with a greasy smile. He placed his hands on your ass, and you shoved him away, walking towards the bartender.

"Come on, sweetcheeks. Let us have some fun." You walked through the crowd faster, not looking back. He was still following you.

Bucky. He was outside, he could help you.

You made a beeline for the exit, hoping that the creep was far enough behind you, you could get away unseen. You weren't so lucky. He grabbed your hand and pushed you up against the door, arm pressing against your breasts. The door gave way as you pushed against the release latch, causing you to both go stumbling outside.

Bucky was right outside the door, trying to call Sam back, when you came flying through the door. He instantly pocketed his phone, striding towards you as you backed away from your pursuer.

You bumped into his chest, immediately pulling away to face him. You relaxed when you saw it was Bucky, grabbing his shirt and moving behind him.

"You can't hide from me, you little slut." Bucky saw red.

He grabbed the guy by his shirt and pushed him up against the wall, flesh hand coming up to slap his face. "Don't ever call my girl anything again, you hear me?"

You preened at 'my girl', hoping that it was true, that you were truly and honestly his girl.

Bucky let the man go as a bouncer came around the side of the building. He nodded towards Bucky, who explained that "he tried to grab my girl, chased her out the building."

There it was again. 'My girl.'

The bouncer grabbed the man by the scuff of his neck and threw him out onto the curb. Bucky turned to face you, hands stroking the side of his face. He looked intently into your eyes, searching for a hint of pain or fear. There was nothing. All he could see was love, radiating from your gaze and warming him from top to toe.

You grabbed his face and pulled him down, your lips pressing onto his. He melted into the kiss, eyes closing as he took over, tongue slipping between your lips as you gasped. A small whimper escaped you.

"Doll, you're driving me crazy."

"Take me home, Barnes."

He practically raced from the bar to his bedroom, carrying you up every flight of stairs. He gently rested you on the bed, ripping his shirt and jacket off in eagerness. He crawled on top of you as you reach to attach your lips to his. The kiss is long, messier than before, teeth and tongue fighting for dominance. You pulled away for air, resting your forehead against his.

He kissed you again, excitement pouring off of him, before moving to kiss down your jaw and in between your breasts. He eased your top off, leaving you in your bra, and kissed down your belly button to the top of your trousers. He asked for your consent with your eyes, hooking his fingers in your waistband. You nodded vigorously. He pulled your trousers down, discarding them against the floor. You took off your own bra, throwing it into the pile of your clothes. His eyes were fixed on your breasts for a few moments before he turned back to your cunt.

He buried his face in your clothed cunt, his hyper-sensitive smell craving the scent of your arousal. He teased you with his metal finger, rubbing circles around your clit. You arched up against him, whines slipping out of your mouth.

Those sounds made the blood rush straight to his cock.

He swiftly pulls your panties away, throwing them nearby your trousers. He buried his face between your thighs, nosing at your clit as he licked stripes up and down your lips. You whined, begging for more stimulation, and Bucky happily obliged. He moved to licking and sucking your swollen clit, the ministrations making you shiver and shake as you call his name, moaning loud enough for his neighbours to hear. Your thighs clenched around his head, trapping his face in your cunt. He watched as your squirmed, eyes trained on your pleasure-ridden face. He grabbed your thighs, massaging them under his hands, liking the feel of the flesh of your ass in his hand. He felt more possessive of you than ever. This was his.

His fingers moved to work their way into your pussy, it clenching tightly at the intrusion and overload of pleasure. He moved his fingers in and out slowly, picking up the pace of his tongue on your clit. You arched your back again. He smacked your thigh, wanting to gauge your reaction - you moaned loudly and your cunt clenched around his fingers. He growled out how fucking good you taste and how good you are for him. Your cunt clenched again at his praise.

"Oh, you like that? You like being my good little girl?" You moaned in response, "Oh sweetheart, I could eat you out for hours. Look at how pretty you are shaking and shivering for me."

His fingers sped up inside you, pounding into you. You came with a loud moan of his name and a shudder, collapsing against the bed in exhaustion.

The flush on your face and your fucked out expression made Bucky's cock impossibly harder.

He grabbed a condom from the nightstand, and pulled off his trousers and his boxers, discarding them somewhere. His dick was hard against his abs, tip red and leaking. He rolled the condom down his dick.

He pulled you down to the edge of the bed, flipping you over. "Ready for round 2?"

You nod enthusiastically.

"That's my good little girl."

He slid into you easily, giving you a minute to adjust to the stretch. He started off slow, but quickly lost control, yanking your hips up to meet his relentless thrusts. The super-soldier stamina mixed with the way you made him feel, made him all the more driven to push you over the edge again. The sound of your pussy when he drove back into you made him groan, your tits bouncing at the force of his thrusts. He reached forward to play with them, flicking and pulling the nubs as he pounded into you. You moaned, your face buried into a pillow as he pulled your hips back against his.

Bucky lifted your back up to his chest, rubbing at your clit with his metal hand, the flesh one remaining on your tits. You pulled it up, curling the fingers around your throat.

"Oh, you're a dirty girl." He squeezed a little, loving how your pussy clenched at the oxygen deprivation. You came seconds later, shaking as he kept fucking you through your orgasm, telling you how you’re gonna give him another one.

He spilled his own load into the condom moments later, pulling out and pulling you into his chest, both of your hearts beating impossibly fast.

He helped you clean up, wiping your body with a wet cloth after disposing of the used condom, helping you into a pair of his boxers, and giving you a t-shirt to cover everything else.

"Not that you need to. I appreciate having some eye candy to look at," he said cockily, holding the shirt over your head, just out of your reach

You looked up at him, hands covering your naked tits, "Where's this cocky energy when we're out in shops, huh? Would've made exposure therapy so much easier."

He dumped the t-shirt on your head and shoved you lightly as you burst into laughter, pulling on the t-shirt before throwing your arms around his neck.

"S'only for you. All for you." He said, carrying you back into bed and wrapping his arms around you, "Always for you."

"Love you, Buck."

"Love you too, Doll."

fin.

buy me a coffee

#bucky barnes fluff #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #james bucky buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes #bucky angst #bucky x y/n #bucky x you #bucky fic #bucky fluff #bukcy barnes #bucky x female reader #winter soldier #bucky imagine #bucky smut #no y/n

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poeticmystery · 5 months

Text

:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ RAY OF SUNSHINE (p.j.)

summary : in which percy jackson feels attached, in some way, to a girl he just met.

w.c. : 1,023

a/n : this is the first part of what's gonna be a full book! i'm going to post it on wattpad as soon as i write the second chapter! wattpad: poet1cmystery

warning(s) : none!

| riordanverse masterlist | navigation | part 2 |

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

the last thing percy remembered was the feeling of blood rushing to his head, then darkness.

now he was lying on a small cot, one of the few empty ones in the infirmary. a thin blanket covered him, one that, no doubt, rested on top of many other wounded half-bloods. the air was brisk, despite the barrier keeping out most of the heavy forms of weather. he moved his hands up to grab the top of the blanket, causing a tingling sensation to run to the tips of his fingers.

his movement stopped, and his limbs felt normal again after the moment of stillness. confusion ebbed his mind, questions of how long he was out, and what had even happened. those thoughts couldn’t last for long, as he soon heard a girl’s voice exclaim something close to, “you’re finally awake.”

he nodded, clearing his throat to try to get some of the patchiness away. the boy spoke up, his voice scratchy and still slightly covered in a viel of sleepiness.

“do you have any water, or something?” he asked, glancing around at the table beside the bed. the only thing sitting on it was a book. he couldn’t quite decipher the words, the letters scrambling and jumbling into words he knew didn’t exist.

“oh, yeah, let me fetch that. is there anything else?” the girl’s voice was sweet.. her face was completely lost on percy, surprising him with even more confusion.

“uh, no,” he grunted out, just wanting to fall asleep again. his tone wasn’t rude to her, just overall a tired voice.

the next he knew, the girl was out of the room, leaving him alone to his thoughts.

his head fell against the pillow beneath it, the plushness doing nothing to support it. despite his still almost-asleep state of mind, he couldn’t help but be enthralled by the girl.

soon enough, her smiling face returned to the small room. she came holding a decently sized metal water bottle, along with a small, clear bag of blue candies. "i heard from somebody that you liked these, so i thought i’d grab some, but it’s alright if you aren’t hungry. you just woke up, so no worries,” she assured, placing the items on the wooden table.

she looked over the boy’s body for a minute, gently peeling back the thin covering to show his bare torso. the wounds that had been littering it just a few hours before were almost completely erased at this point, thanks to the magical properties of ambrosia. She hummed in satisfaction, folding the blanket back over him and taking a step back.

percy just let her do what she needed to– it wasn’t his first time in the infirmirary, and definitely not his last. even though he had just been knocked out for almost the whole day, he was feeling almost fine. he reached up, his muscles feeling loose from the stillness they had been in. his hand wrapped around the bottle the girl had filled with water for him, bringing the small spout to his lips. to him, the bottle was filled with liquid gold.

he gulped it down thirstily, quickly finishing it with a sheepish look on his face. the girl across from him didn’t seem to notice, her head buried in paperwork sitting on a clipboard. “hey, what’s your name? i haven’t seen you around.” he didn’t want to interrupt her, but his curiosity had gotten the better of him.

“y/n. y/n y/l/n,” she answered, looking up from the sheet she was working on. a small smile persisted on her face, just as it had for the entirety of their short interaction that day.

he noticed that it never left, just merely grew or shrunk.

like a ray of sunshine, he thought.

“i like that,” percy admitted, “it suits you, y’know? like, you definitely look like a y/n.”

“well, thank you? i think?” she laughed out, quickly gauging percy’s personality. He just nodded in response, then looked down at his hands, playing mindlessly with the loose thread of the old blanket.

she turned over the paper on the clipboard before sliding it under her arm the wood feeling smooth against her skin. she clapped her hands together, “well, physically, you look great. you can leave whenever you feel good enough to,” she stated, assuming the boy still felt decently tired.

once again, percy’s only response was a nod, causing the y/n to just stand there, and awkward silence falling over them.

“well…” the girl trailed off, “i’m gonna go, maybe i’ll see you around.” she added the last bit after, her smile widening. she looked to him for a reaction. he smiled back at her. she took that as a signal to leave, making percy suddenly wish he had asked her to stay longer. he could smell the scent of her perfume as it wanted over him, enveloping him with the fragrance.

he watched as she passed by the open doorway a couple times, likely attending to other sick or wounded half-bloods. he was never too close with anyone from the apollo cabin, but suddenly he felt himself taking an interest in the group of teens. he was well aware that the conversations with y/n had only lasted mere minutes, but felt a connection with her on some level. he didn’t know why or how, but he did.

he shortly felt himself growing tired again, a sudden shine of the sun washing over him as it set into the evening. it warmed him enough for him to discard the thin blanket atop his body. the fabric fell to the floor, he’d pick it up later. the boy turned away from the sun, feeling its’ heat against his bare back, causing a smile to grace his pink lips. he tucked his arms under the pillow he was lying on, adding more support beneath his head, letting him drift into a comfortable sleep.

taglist : @iamforeverandalwaystired, message me or leave it here to be added!

#percy jackson x you #percy jackson blurbs #percy jackson x reader #percy jackson #percy jackson imagines #heroes of olympus #leo valdez x reader #jason grace x reader #luke castellan x reader #percy jackon and the olympians

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callofdudes · 1 year

Text

What are you reading??

A/N: this was requested by @thicc-plum so I hope y'all enjoy my friend. This took way too long, please let me know if you catch any spelling mistakes.

This includes 141, Alejandro & Rodolfo.

Summary: The reader gets caught reading a smut book and the boys tease the hell out of her.

CW: Brief depictions of sexual interactions, the boys 'teasing' you.

Y'all really want a part 2 huh... I've made you a lil part 2 for y'all.

You were sitting alone at a table in the canteen. Lunch was almost over but you hadn't busied yourself with food. You were sitting in the corner with one of your books in hand. You always loved to read, but this book in particular you had refrained from reading around the others. It was... A different kind of book. Not one with little swordsmen going on long adventures to sweep away their friends from the perils of danger.

It was one with tension, heat. The kind that nestled in your stomach and bubbled up through your chest, making you feel a small, almost tangible piece of the intimacy you read about.

You were engrossed in the book. The atmosphere around you was drowned out as you read.

His hand guided her thigh, skirt riding up past her hip and their eyes met. Their breaths tangled in the warm bedroom, sweat soaking into the sheets-

"What are you reading??"

You gasp and slam your book shut. Your hands tremble as you push it away from you.

Johnny smirks, laughing as he sits down. "Oh you should see your face!"

You scoff. "Not funny Johnny."

Johnny grabs the book from your trembling hands and examines the cover.

"Oh~ what is this risque piece of artwork??" He flips through the pages, reading over some of the sentences. You attempt to grab the book back but Johnny puts his elbow up to keep you away while he reads.

His eyes go wide. "Woah!! That's some descriptive oral- my goodness!"

"Johnny!!" You jump and grab the book back, pulling it to your chest.

Your cheeks go red. "Don't tell the others, please??"

"Depends, can I borrow the book??"

"What are you going to do with it??"

"Read it, obviously. It looks good."

He gives you his signature smirk and you can't help but feel inclined to agree. You grumble under your breath. "whatever, I'll finish and then you can read it. But please return it!!"

Johnny nods. "Of course."

"By the way, you're late for your meeting with Price. You don't want me to tell him you're late because of an innocent little book, would you??"

He grins. "Wouldn't want dear old captain to know you're doing such naughty little things." He squeezes your thigh.

He stands from his chair.

Your cheeks burn redder, but the time manages to take your attention.

You look at your watch and curse. "Don't tell anyone Johnny! I'm serious!!"

He winks at you as he walks away. "You can count on me y/n!"

You grumble and hold your book close. Why on earth would Johnny want to read it?? Was he messing with you?? Or was he actually interested.

You rush out of the canteen and shove your book in your bag. You just hope Johnny wouldn't tell anyone what he saw you reading.

You will admit, yes, you had it coming. You weren't doing your paperwork as it had gotten too boring too quickly and you'd given up for a bit. No one likes doing paperwork. The only ones who didn't complain about it happened to be Price, Ghost, and Gaz. You were none of them.

So you'd kicked up your feet and started to read your book. It was a book you'd gotten on leave and you had kept it fairly secret from the others, it wasn't a book you wanted them to know about.

It was better than doing paperwork. And much more fun.

You must have lost track while reading however, getting too caught up in the endless pages of sticky hot mess.

"He latched onto her neck, sucking a deep hickey into her supple throat. She cried out his name softly into the night, arms wrapping tightly around his shoulders-"

There was a knock on the door.

You shot up, scrambling immediately to bring your feet off your desk and straighten up. You slam your book back into the desk drawer.

"Come in!"

Price enters, making you gulp.

"Y/n, we haven't seen you for a while, I wanted to see how things are coming along in here."

He sees the enormous pile of paperwork on your desk and crosses his arms. You immediately look down and away, knowing you would probably be in trouble for this.

He sighs and comes around the corner of the desk, seeing the still open drawer with your book in It. He sees the very risque cover and pulls it out before you can stop him.

"Was this what had your attention??"

You gulp, getting anxious as he flips through the pages.

He hums thoughtfully. He flips the pages and reads through some of the things, his facial expressions changing with each new scenario played out in the book.

He eventually closes it and places it in one of his pockets.

"Captain-"

"Shh, I've seen enough. If this is what you'd like to occupy your time with, very well then."

"I'm sorry."

He tuts. "Be a good girl and finish your paperwork. When you're done, we can discuss this little book of yours."

Your cheeks burn red and you look away.

"Yes Captain."

"That's a good girl."

Price walked off, leaving a heavy feeling in your stomach. You had a weird new motivation to finish your paperwork though.

The evening was quiet and the others were out. It was just you and Gaz on base and you were relishing in the quiet environment. Wrapped up in a blanket, the fireplace crackling a few feet away from you, nothing better.

With a book in hand the world could only be perfect. Your eyes feel tired, even as you read the book that always makes your stomach drop and your emotions rise.

You thought Gaz had gone to bed, so you felt comfortable reading it without the others around. You would always read this book in your room, it never saw the light of day around the guys.

"He whispered low in her ear, nipping at the corner of her lobe. His hands groped down across her collar, fingers tangling in her necklace..."

You continued to read, barely registering the creak of the floorboards. You'd assumed it was the house settling since you hadn't heard the door. Nor had you noticed the shadow bast behind you, soft brown eyes reading each delicately picked word with you.

Suddenly, you feel breathing near your ear. Your heartbeat quickens and your fingers feel tense. The feeling in your stomach growls hotter with each second.

"That seems a little naughty to be reading out here, don't you think sweetheart?"

You jump, nearly screaming as a voice cuts through your concentration, shattering the perfect dream of being wrapped in an embrace just as addictive as the words in your book.

Gaz grins, his hand touching your shoulder and running down your arm to flip the page of the book.

"K-Kyle- I didn't realize you were-"

"Shh. Read it out loud."

Your cheeks turn deep red. "W-what-??"

"Read it out loud to me sweetheart."

Your heart rate quickens and your voice catches in your throat. You want to say yes just as badly as you want to say no. But the way Kyle strokes his thumb over your hand made you willing.

"S-sure..."

Kyle hums. "Good. I think you'll want to finish this next chapter before the others return. You wouldn't want them to hear all the things you've been reading about."

You gulp, but you reluctantly start to read.

You couldn't sleep. So naturally in the early hours of the morning when you figured no one else was awake, you turned to the kitchen for a snack.

You patter through the hallway with your book in hand. You turn on the kitchen light and make yourself some tea to soothe your body, considering you were sore from the lack of sleep.

You sat down at the kitchen table with your tea and opened your book. The cover was bright red with dazzling shiny line work around two figures. One holding the other in a more suggestive manner. Each chapter displaying a new set of characters put through taboo and risque situations. All of them leading to a spicy climax.

Literally.

You sunk into the quiet atmosphere and started to read. Your eyes drowned into the words, hands holding the book firmly.

"He pulled her back, his large hand wrapped tightly around her throat. His sneer could almost look evil to anyone who wasn't her. Treated like a doll in his large hands, putting so much trust into his punishments."

You gulp, not realizing how heavy your breathing had gotten until a hand wraps around your throat.

It catches you so off guard you whine. Thumb and forefinger pressing into the sensitive parts under your jaw, making your insides coil and twist.

You bite your lip, hands trembling.

Warm breath whisps over your cheek and Ghost's rough Manchester voice breaks the silence.

"I always knew you were into some weird shit."

His other hand reaches out and takes the book from you, inspecting the cover.

"Ghost-"

His hand tightens on your throat, making you moan quietly.

He hums, flipping through some of the pages.

Your cheeks start to burn, watching out of the corner of your eye as he flips. You can't see his face, you can't gauge his reaction. All you know is his hand is wrapped so nicely around your throat, body hidden in the shadows it makes you feel as small as the girl in the story.

He gets to a certain page and chuckles. "You are into some weird shit."

You grab his wrist, wanting to pry him away and wanting him closer. It feels like a dream how it is all playing out, you are scared you want more.

He places the book down and squeezes your throat, getting another soft moan out of you.

He lets go and chuckles. "I could do better than he can."

It makes you want to pass out. He lets you go and when you turn around he's already walking away. Your arms and legs are shaking but you rush after him, wanting to know what he meant.

He doesn't lock his door when he disappears, and you know all too well it's an invitation into the book you'd just been reading.

(also I love this gif, look at Rodolfo just effortlessly toss that crate- boy you are amazing and I love you)

Look, everyone on base knew you were a little freaky at times. It was no secret to anyone. And it also wasn't a secret you might have a teensy tiny little thing for your colonel and the sergeant major.

That was not the point however.

You had just finished up a long day of training with the Vaqueros. You'd been out all afternoon, which was why you were a bit surprised you were being called into Alejandro and Rodolfo's office for a little chat.

What this chat was about, you weren't entirely sure.

But you finished up your routines and set off for their office.

You knock on the door, hearing Alejandro's voice beckon you in. When you open the door you're greeted by both Alejandro and Rodolfo. Alejandro is sitting while Rodolfo is standing next to him with something in his hands.

You would know that velvet patterned trophy book anywhere.

Your blood turns cold.

"Take a seat y/n." Alejandro smiles at you with that smile. The one that makes your heart flutter and your stomach flop.

You nod and take a seat. "What's this about?"

Rodolfo leans over and places the book in front of you. "Look familiar? It has your name written on the inside cover."

You gulp and nod, your cheeks going a bit red. "Yes sir sergeant, I know the book quite well."

"I think you would, considering how worn it, must get read a lot."

By now Rodolfo has come around to your side, one hand snaking up your arm to your shoulder and squeezing the muscles.

You gulp again.

Alejandro opens the book and flips through the pages. "Such a filthy book y/n, there's only one reason you could read this book so much."

You look away bashfully.

"Does it give you a high, Y/n??"

"N-no colonel!"

Alejandro stands and flips to a certain page. He taps the frame of the book and bends down in front of you, guiding your gaze back to his with his thumb and forefinger.

"Care to explain this then?"

You look down at the page he points to, you know it well. Rereading it over and over. It had crinkled edges from your sweaty fingers and dirt makes from the small traces your nails would leave.

You reread the words you practically knew by heart.

"She cries loudly, voice broken into sobs. The man behind her keeps a firm grip in her hair and tugs her back against him. The second man gazes down into her teary eyes, letting her breathe a fresh breath of air before plunging back into her throat."

Your cheeks were red enough, tainted deeper when you saw the scribbled names of your colonel and sergeant major at the bottom of the page.

Rodolfo's hand curls in your hair, his soft voice near your ear. "Considere esto su castigo por leer tal suciedad."

Your brow wobbles, but you can't run from them, you never could.

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feyascorner · 4 months

Note

okay first of all i ADORE ur writing… wanna take a bite out of it..

anyway… uh… can i uhh… order a uhh…. astarion x tav.. and like..tav has a fucking insane pain tolerance and always has.. and like… uhh… one time she gets fucking TOTALED in a fight and like obvi it would hurt… and shes like crying subconsciously.. and when some1 points it out shes like “what???? why am i crying wtf???” and like looks down and is just fucking BLEEDING… n then.. astarion comfort…

only if u want thoo!!!!

a/n. Im like the exact opposite I'm very dramatic about the slightest pain but this is such a cute request so Ty!! ALSO PLS EXCUSE IF THIS IS A LITTLE CLUNKY I HAD TO TYPE THIS OUT W MY FINGERS🫠🫠

Astarion is grateful for your tolerance to pain.

Of course, he doesn't particularly enjoy watching you in pain, but he’s no fool. He knows the sting and the soreness that comes after he drinks from your neck. Well, at least, it should sting. However, it never seemed to bother you, and for that, he's forever grateful for it.

These strange sentiments expand past his thirst for blood, as the relief he feels when you’re battered up after a battle and you smile at him as if nothing’s wrong is incomparable to any other feeling he’s felt.

That relief does not come currently, however.

The battle was nearly hopeless. Overwhelmed in number, mages casting counterspell, fighters constantly aiming at you…he’s lost track of it all. By some miracle you and your companions stand victorious, and when he sees that you offer Karlach a lopsided smile, confirming that you're fine, he reaches to pick up one of his daggers.

“Tav—what in the hells, are you okay?”

It’s then that he spots the way your lip quivers and tears glisten threateningly at your eyes. And when you meet his own, they begin to drip down your cheeks like crystals and roll off your chin. He's seen you in tears before, but out of something more positive—not from pain. Before he can even tell what he's doing, he's rushing toward you.

“Why are you—” he sees the blood seeping from your stomach, and his face would've gone pale if he could.

You finally lift your hands to your face, eyes wide when your fingertips brush against the dampness of your cheeks. “Oh. Why am I?…”

Shadowheart scrambles to scrimmage around her bag. “Here, let me—gods, where did I—did we use all the healing potions?—”

“Oh for hells sake. Because you're bleeding!” Astarion hisses, his hand intertwining with yours as he drags you toward the nearest tree where he sits you down. He freezes when you flinch but you shake your head, wiping at your eyes. Your other companions are still searching the enemy corpses for anything that might relieve you of the pain, but they're taking far too long for his liking.

“I’m okay, it doesn't really hurt that much.”

“You’re crying.”

“I didn't even know I was-” you wince.

His eyes narrow. “Lay down.”

“What? No, I’m really fine!”

“Gods, love, please for once, listen to me. It’s quite straining to watch you clamber around with that ghastly wound on your stomach.”

You frown, but he guides you down anyway, careful to lay down your head against the grass. “Now wait patiently. Maybe if we’re lucky, our dear friends will find a potion before I start developing wrinkles.”

A momentary silence hangs in the air. It’s by no means uncomfortable, but there are words on the tip of his tongue he wishes to say. And when he notices you staring, he sighs.

“If you're hurt, tell us. I don't care how high your pain tolerance is—if you're hurt, call us. Call me. Don't be a fool and bleed out over a few enemies when we’ve been through so much worse.”

The sincerity in his voice is almost embarrassing. But with the way you're watching him so seriously, he can't bring himself to dwell on such irrelevant factors.

Then, you smile again, as if you've forgotten about the pain. “How minor can the pain be for me to call you?”

“What kind of question is that?”

“Can I call you when I stub a toe?”

“Absolutely not.”

“I will.”

He stares at you with lidded eyes and you laugh. He feels the weight on his shoulders get a bit lighter.

“You may call for me whenever you wish.”

#baldur's gate 3 #astarion ancunin #baldur's gate astarion #bg3 astarion #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion #bg3 x reader #fluff #bg3

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arminsumi · 7 months

Text

WHO IS SHE?

↳ GOJO さとる + fem!reader

A Kyoto student gives the Six Eyes a run for his money during the tournament. Are they really fighting or just flirting?

M.LIST

1.2k

Summary : during the Kyoto Sister-School Goodwill Event, a student Gojo encounters someone who can match his strength. It's not humbling. It hurts his pride. But neither of you can deny the tension between you two. You and him are just flirting back and forth like crazy, forming a lustful rivalry.

Warnings : 🔞 minors do not read/interact : mature/18+ content, not proofread, blood, innuendos / suggestive jokes (use of daddy, kitten), sexual/romantic tension, rivalry, making a sexual bet (bj if gojo wins 🫡), cliffhanger ending ig

Note : ayo... AYOOOOOOO!!! i found this idea in the drafts from 3 months ago and wrote smth for it... LET ME KNOW IF U WANT MORE??? bc there's more content for it... hehe 🤭💗 it's got that rivals that wanna fuck type beat ig

🍒 More from Jay : Gojo works / Gojo fave works / JJK works

There's crimson blood dribbling out his nose, and he wipes it away in amazement.

What the hell just hit me?

"Heyyy Six Eyes~!" you smile, split-sitting on a branch.

Gojo Satoru rears his head up at you and squints from the sun. He makes out your figure, hears your voice, and feels this sense of mortality. It gives him a rush.

Fuck. Who is she...? That Kyoto student?

"Oh. Hey Kyoto Princess." He returns condescendingly. He sinks his hands in his pockets to look at ease, though he's anything but in your presence right now. You really shook him up there.

"The blood looks hot on you." you flirt and cause his heartbeat to accelerate.

"Uh-huh... you gonna stay up there like a scaredy cat or you gonna come down here and show me those claws again, kitten?"

He's trying so hard to scramble up those words. He's trying so hard to seem intimidating. To stand his ground against you. He's trying so very, very hard. He's straining himself. Neck tendons pronouncing with his hard swallow. Sweat beading off his forehead.

Damn the summer sun. It makes the tournament so much harder. Though admittedly, he'd be startled by your technique during any season.

You lean down and make a feline movement that makes something click in the horny region of his brain.

"Nah, I like the view from up here... why don't you climb up 'n come give me kitty cuddles?" you say.

Ooh. That voice is chilling. I like it.

"No fucking way." he laughs incredulously. "You can come."

"Oh is daddy giving his kitten permission to cum?" you play.

His eyes go wide. "What the fu—"

There's a rush of wind, your friend interrupts the awkward flirting and comes to your side and asks you what the situation is.

"Why the hold up? You said you'd come 'round again, I was waiting for you. That bangs guy is kind of a menace... 'coulda used your help."

"Sorry..." you smile and maintain this electric eye contact with Gojo. "I got a bit infatuated with Mister Six Eyes over there. He's quite the cutie pie."

Gojo's heart flutters... and he hates it. He feels boyish because of you. Like he's just some dumb teenager with a crush on the hot girl who gave him a nosebleed. Literally, in this case.

"Uh... okay...? Sheesh. Were you trying to fight him or cause deforestation?" your friend grimaces at the splintered and split trees. "Um... anyways... can we go, or are you two still busy flirting?"

"I'm coming, alright." you wink at Gojo.

"What the fu— SUGURU."

Oh, such good timing. Bangs guy appears.

"What's the hold up?" Suguru asks.

Your friend chimes, "That's what I was asking! These two are fucking flirting!"

"Haha, what? Oh Satoru... why is your nose all bloody?" Suguru asks nonchalantly.

"A cat scratched me."

"...? What? What happened?"

"She happened." Gojo glares at you.

You wave at him. He wishes he could bite you, but he's not ready just yet to approach you.

Suguru looks at his friend, then at you, then at the damaged trees, and his features grow both impressed and confused.

"You're telling me... a tiny thing like her did all this?"

Gojo shrugs funnily, "Yeah, she's pretty romantic, isn't she?"

You wink at him. He feels a pang in his chest and furrows his brows.

"Okay. Yeah. Sam, I see what you mean about them flirting."

"Right?"

You giggle. Gojo groans.

There's an auditory announcement echoing through the forest.

Today's event is ending, please return to the starting point.

"Aw, playtime is over. See you next time, Six Eyes."

"Keep callin' me Six eyes, princess, I fucking dare you." Gojo seethes.

All four of you trek back to the starting point. Gojo is stealing hot glances of you, looking grumpy but feeling his pants tighten. You're sweating from the heat. So is he.

I can make you weak for me. Just you wait.

"Satoru, tell me all about it. I want the details." Suguru leans close and asks in a hushed tone. You're busy talking to your friend, outright humiliating poor Mister Six Eyes to her.

"She's too damn fast." he grumbles, rubbing his neck to get the tension out. You really gave his poor body a beating back there. "Like a flicker in my vision... uh, but the main reason she was a challenge was because of all that flirting, of course."

"Oh, yeah right..." Suguru rolls his eyes, then leans even closer, "Was she really flirting with you?"

"Yeah..."

"Lucky."

"What the hell, Suguru." Gojo laughs.

"You should make a move. I'm sure she's got a thing for you. She keeps looking over." Suguru encourages.

"Are you high? She really fucked me up back there. Anyways... I think her flirting was condescending. That's why I flirted condescendingly back. Shit what if she was actually flirtin' with me..."

Satoru and Suguru look at you. And you look back. Your friend is snickering and it bothers Satoru.

But nothing bothers him more than that smug face of yours. He marches right up to you in the corridors later, when it's just you and him.

He pins you right against the wall and you giggle, letting him show off his strength and height.

His breath tickles your face, his eyes threaten to burn your soul.

"Next time, I'll win." he seethes in a deep voice. He notes how you squeeze your thighs together.

"Wanna bet?" you smile seductively.

"Sure. If I win, you have to tell all your cute little friends about how Mister Six Eyes is stronger than you." he says.

"Okay. Whatever. If I win..."

He listens intently.

"... I get to suck your dick."

He blushes. Stutters. Brain freezes. Malfunctions.

Wow. What. Huh?

"Haha, you're cute. Have you never received head before?" you ask forwardly.

His conscious skips beats, words tumble out.

"I — uh... y-yeah of course I have!" he lies.

"Sure you have, big boy." you bring your lips closer and he dissolves. He's so fucked. He's so turned on by you it's actually pissing him off.

He doesn't move away, just lets you graze your lips over his own. You make him shudder. Make his cock start to strain against his tight uniform pants.

"So... are we taking this bet then?"

"Y-yeah... yes. Um. Yes. Absolutely. Please."

"Haha... okay then. See you tomorrow... Satoru~"

Wow. You just broke him there. He doesn't move or speak, just stands motionlessly blinking at the wall as you slip away out of his pinning grip.

He thinks to himself;

Nah. I don't think I care about winning anymore. Screw pride.

But then comes the next morning and... he swells with pride.

Nah. Screw her. I don't need to feel her lips wrapping around my dick.

"Hey, Six Eyes." you greet him at the tournament grounds, flirting so unashamedly that you earn a very disapproving looks from the teachers.

"Hey, Kyoto Princess." he greets back, "flirting" too. His stomach flips when you lick your lips suggestively, as a callback to the bet you made with him.

"Wish ya luck." you tell him.

"I don't need it." he retaliates.

Suguru and your friend just distantly watch, snickering, at the sexual tension between you and Gojo Satoru;

Your natural rival. When he was born, so were you, meant to exist as the only thing that could weaken the Six Eyes.

Do not plagiarize / repost / translate / copy layouts / etc.

Do not steal what I've worked hard to create.

2K notes · View notes

spookyserenades · 1 month

Text

Trouvaille - Chapter Sixteen (M)

Pairing(s); BTS OT7 x Reader

Genre/Themes; Hybrid!AU, themes of the supernatural and the occult, religious themes, violence, hurt/comfort, horror, romance

Rated; 18+ for swearing, violence/gore, future sexual themes. Reader discretion is advised.

Word Count; 20.5k

Trouvaille Masterlist

Trouvaille playlist

Updates on the 7th of each month

Heyyyy besties LOL! Prepare yourselves! This chapter is definitely my spiciest yet, so hold onto your seats (and don't look at me LOL I'm Seokjin thirsty). Besides that, though, we have domestic moments, and GHOSTBUSTING WOO HOO! I hope you all enjoy this and don't hate me for being thirsty. Love to hear your thoughts and thank you for reading!

As an additional warning/reminder, for the smut: the scene is explicit, and is only intended to be read by those over the age of 18. Please practice safe sex, and readers please have discretion!

Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

Suddenly, all of the sounds of the city faded into oblivion. Cars rushing by passed in colored blurs, romantic music flooding out from restaurants filled with couples celebrating Valentine’s Day dimmed to a hum, and all Y/N could focus on, or even register, were the clumps of powdery snow beginning to gather on Seokjin’s long, straight lashes. His fiery eyes were shifting back and forth, assessing the expression on her face, his sleek black tail curling self-consciously around his waist. Y/N’s brain was scrambling for any kind of coherent response, Seokjin’s grip on her hands going slack once the seconds stretched on.

“Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything,” Seokjin whispered sadly, to himself. It was that statement that had Y/N snapping out of her state of shock.

“Jin–” Y/N exclaimed, but Seokjin had let her go, turning slightly and trudging away, his hand tightening around the handles of the shopping bag. “Wait, honey!”

“We should head back to the car, it’s getting cold with the snow,” Seokjin’s voice sounded thick, like his throat was closing up, making Y/N hiss and lurch forward, catching him by his felt coat. Promptly, he halted, though he wouldn’t turn around to face her.

“Actually, we should talk,” Y/N managed, pulling Seokjin along desperately, yanking him up the stairs of the church they were in front of and pushing the two of them inside the warm building.

The place was lit up, but mercifully empty, and Y/N assumed the priests were in the back of the building, a separate room, where they kept vestments– Jeongguk had been telling her about various aspects of Christianity and the architecture of churches during their hours of reviewing tapes for the Sanders’ case with Namjoon. Huffing, she towed her jaguar hybrid to the enclosed room at the front of the church’s entrance, the one with a window facing altar; the space was intended for parents with crying children to sit in so as not to disturb Mass. Y/N thought it was as good of a place as any to have a private conversation without freezing their asses off in the snow.

“W-why are we here?” Seokjin still wouldn’t turn his face to hers, instead choosing to studiously stare out the window, fixing his eyes on the elaborate wooden pulpit.

“Seokjin, look at me,” Y/N requested gently, tugging the fabric of his coat lightly to encourage him.

Stiffening, Seokjin swallowed, his ears still pressed flat against his wavy head of black hair, chewing on his lip as he finally looked her in the eyes once more. Heart clenching seeing the aching vulnerability on his face, she took the bag of their purchases from Eataly from his hand, placing it on one of the chairs behind them.

“You don’t have to let me down gently, Y/N…” Seokjin uttered quietly, and despite herself, Y/N was rolling her eyes while her back was to him.

“Seokjin, will you just hear me out for a few minutes?” Y/N replied, trying to compose herself despite the way she was nearly ready to pounce on Seokjin. “Don’t shut down on me like that.”

Seokjin remained quiet, his throat bobbing when she faced him again, Y/N sighing and wondering how the hell to explain to him her feelings, not only for him, but for the rest of his housemates. It had her head swimming, and the strong scent of church incense wasn’t helping.

“You… said you loved me?” Y/N wanted to confirm, Seokjin’s neck turning an even deeper shade of red, but he nodded slightly nonetheless. His tail was still curled around his waist.

“Ever since my birthday. Probably even before then,” Seokjin admitted, Y/N’s heart beginning to race in her chest, one of Seokjin’s ears fluttering at the sound.

“Oh,” Y/N squeaked, watching Seokjin trying to not look crestfallen.

“I had to tell you. I couldn’t keep it hidden any longer, especially after tonight,” Seokjin continued, one of his hands coming up to rub at his bicep. “Even though… you and Yoongi.”

Time stopped, space ceased to exist. All that mattered to her in those seconds was Seokjin, and his undiluted earnesty was palpable. Nothing could stop Y/N from opening her mouth impulsively, at that point.

“I think I fell in love with you on Halloween,” Y/N blurted loudly, Seokjin’s jaw dropping open in pure shock, her voice echoing in the empty room and emphasizing the ferociousness in her tone. “Seeing you with the kids, handing out candy. Or maybe it was that night you held me after Tae and Joon’s fight.”

“What?” Seokjin breathed, a combination of elation and confusion taking over his expression.

“I fell in love with Yoongi when he offered to teach me piano,” Y/N couldn’t help the word vomit pouring from her mouth, figuring if anything, she could confess all of her feelings to Seokjin, and maybe he’d get where she was coming from. “Jeongguk and Joon when they helped me with the spirit, that day outside when we did the cleansing ritual, I knew I loved them. I fell for Hoseok when I realized he was the glue holding us together.”

Understanding dawned on Seokjin as she spilled her guts to him, but all he did was reach for her hands, a tender look in his eyes so sweet Y/N nearly began to weep. Honestly, she could have been weeping, but she couldn’t stop her speech as Seokjin held her.

“Seeing Jimin wear his expressions so earnestly, innocently, and Taehyung’s trust in me, his love for our home…” Y/N shuddered when Seokjin pulled her in for a hug, her face pressed against the front of his coat, and palms stroking up and down her back to soothe. “I’m in love with you all, I can’t help it, but I do. I love you, Seokjin, so, so much.”

Seokjin didn’t reply, but his chest began to vibrate with purrs, simply holding her as Y/N took a few moments to breathe, initially not coming to the conclusion that saying all of that out loud would end up being such an emotional release for her. Physically, she felt lighter once she admitted all of that to Seokjin, but she was nervous about how he was taking the news that she had feelings for 6 others.

“You really love me? You mean it?” Seokjin broke the silence, his hands shaking as he pushed lightly on her shoulders so he could look at her face, his ears finally perked up after being pressed flat to his head for so long.

Grasping one of his wrists, Y/N maintained eye-contact as she pressed his palm over her heart, no doubt beating rapidly even underneath her thick coat. A small exhale came from Seokjin, Y/N craning her head upwards to scan his face, not wanting to keep him in the lurch any longer.

“Of course I mean it,” Y/N whispered, her free hand curling in the material of his coat, feeling tears gather along her lash line. “You have my heart.”

Seokjin chuckled, the sound watery, and Y/N felt his hands still trembling as they moved to cup her face, thumbs tracing over her cheekbones with reverence. She shivered, sliding her hands up his chest to rest over his heart, beating wildly, drowning in the scent of his eucalyptus body wash.

“I–” Seokjin swallowed, his own eyes shining with unshed tears. “Can I kiss you?”

Heart stopping altogether, her eyelids fluttered as she felt his shaky hands still cradling her face, so gently she could hardly feel the touch.

“Yes,” Y/N replied eagerly, her voice barely coming out at all, transfixed by the way Seokjin looked at her with complete adoration. “Please.”

Slowly, like time had been suspended, she watched Seokjin duck his head, his eyelids growing heavy as he nudged the tip of his nose against hers, Y/N unable to shut her eyes as his beautiful face neared closer than ever. Sucking in a tiny breath, she melted against his broad chest, fingers sliding into the close-cropped hair at the nape of his neck. When Seokjin’s eyes closed, she kept hers open a fraction, only for stars to explode in her vision once his voluminous lips landed on hers.

Immediately making a noise of delight, Y/N sank into Seokjin, not caring that they were in public, or a church, for that matter. The press of his mouth was impossibly sweet, loving, Y/N nearly groaning as his lower lip slipped against the seam of her mouth. While the kiss was chaste, Seokjin’s thumbs still tenderly caressing her cheekbones, it had her insides igniting, angling her head so Seokjin could work his mouth against hers more deeply. Her lungs were burning for oxygen all too soon, Y/N refusing to break the lock of their lips, but unfortunately, her jaguar hybrid sensed her need to breathe, and his perfect lips slid from hers sensually.

Before she could speak, her hands still in his hair, Seokjin began stamping kisses all over her face, like he had the last time he scented her. The purrs coming from his chest grew in volume when she sighed in bliss, Seokjin’s hands moving to cup her neck while he brushed a kiss over her jaw bone.

“I love you, I love you…” Seokjin breathed, his warm breath washing over the side of her neck, Y/N nearly passing out in his strong arms. “My Y/N. My pretty girl, I love you…”

“S-seokjin. Mmm,” Y/N attempted to speak, though the distraction of him mouthing over the slope of her throat was overwhelming. “You, uh? Know– that I, um. Love the others, too? Does it bother you?”

Seokjin paused, pressing one last kiss underneath her earlobe, his arms wrapping around her waist securely. His warmth consumed her, and the way he held her felt like she was being cherished– her own arms wound around his wide shoulders in retribution.

“There’s nothing you could do or say that would change how I feel,” Seokjin said firmly, Y/N shivering at the finality in his tone. “I just… I didn’t think you loved me the way I love you. I had hope when we had lunch with Hannah, but…”

“Yoongi,” Y/N finished for him, nuzzling her face into his chest.

“Does he?” Seokjin probed cautiously, running his hands through her hair, seemingly not able to get enough of touching her so freely.

“Know? Yeah,” Y/N blushed, the whole situation so complicated, she hardly knew how it came to be in the first place. “He knows I love you. All of you.”

Seokjin rested his chin on the top of her head, humming contentedly as he held her. All she wanted in that moment was to remain in his embrace, soaking in his comforting presence, but all too soon he was drawing away, his eyes sparkling and lips a tad swollen from their kiss.

“I think we should head home. We scandalized the priests,” Seokjin nodded to the window, Y/N’s face on fire when she realized indeed, two young priests were gawking at them from behind the glass, and both of them hurriedly returned to arranging pamphlets in the pews.

With that, her and Seokjin giggling the entire way, they left the church, Y/N waving apologetically to the priests while Seokjin grabbed onto her free hand. Y/N didn’t have time to think about what would happen when they got home, but because she swore to herself that she wouldn’t hide information from the others anymore, she wasn’t about to sneak around with Seokjin like she had with Yoongi.

Outside, it was still snowing, but tucked closely into Seokjin’s side, she hardly felt the cold. His arm was around her waist, hand entwined with hers, tucked into her coat pocket. The walk back to the parking garage wasn’t long, but it took twenty minutes– Seokjin stopping occasionally for a kiss amongst the snow storm, his lips melting against hers.

“Got the bag?” Y/N jumped out of the car, glancing at their lit-up house in front of her, chewing her lip nervously.

It wasn’t too late in the evening, so Y/N knew that everyone was probably still up, snacking on their Valentine candy and watching TV, perhaps. Namjoon’s van wasn’t running, surprisingly, so neither he nor Jeongguk were hanging out in there. Seokjin appeared from around the car, the bag of ingredients and recipes in hand, a sweet smile stretched across his face.

Someone flicked on the porch light, most likely Namjoon, who kept quite the canine watch over the front door, especially at night. Clearing her throat, she gestured for Seokjin to head up the porch steps, following closely behind and praying the wolf hybrid wouldn’t immediately sniff out that her and Seokjin’s relationship dynamic had shifted significantly. The jaguar hybrid opened the front door, letting Y/N in first, locking up behind her promptly– if he didn’t, Namjoon would have had a stroke seeing the deadbolt pulled back.

The house was toasty, and judging by the scent, Yoongi had made his popular roasted chicken for dinner for everyone that was left at home. She was blushing as Seokjin unzipped her coat for her, shucking it off and hanging it in the closet, the sounds of the TV from the parlor indicating that a few of the hybrids were hanging out in there.

“You’re back,” Yoongi appeared from the kitchen, leaning against the threshold with a dish rag in his hand. “I thought I’d have to call a cab for you two.”

“No, we took a walk to digest the wine before I got behind the wheel,” Y/N replied, Yoongi smirking when Seokjin was fussing over lint on her sweater from her coat, his fingertips skimming her arms and sides and leaving a trail of fire in their wake. “Hope there’s leftover chicken for my lunch tomorrow!”

“You know there isn’t, even without you and Jin eating your fill,” Yoongi scoffed, flicking long hair out of his face. The front of his white tee-shirt was damp from doing dishes, the material clinging to the muscles of his lower abdomen. “Here, let me take that.”

Yoongi sprung forward, taking the Eataly bag from Seokjin, and Y/N didn’t miss the way Yoongi subtly sniffed in her direction, his expression turning sly as he returned to the kitchen with the swish of his spotted tail. Stiffening, knowing that Yoongi could probably detect Seokjin’s scent all over her, as well as her uneasy expression, Y/N pinched the bridge of her nose.

“How the hell are we going to break the news without me suffering from a heart attack?” Y/N sighed, shivering when Seokjin cupped the nape of her neck, stroking the sides of her throat, Y/N blinking up at him from her spot in front of the jaguar hybrid, unease heighting when she saw the mischief on his face. “What are you–”

“I LOVE Y/N!” Seokjin suddenly hollered at the top of his lungs, Y/N flinching a foot in the air, both because she never heard Seokjin speak so loudly, and the words that came from his mouth. “SHE LOVES ME BACK!”

Cringing, Y/N supposed that was one way to do it, Seokjin bending suddenly and picking Y/N up by her waist, spinning her around like a giant goober. While her world was turning, dizzying up her head, she caught Jeongguk and the shape of his antlers, poking his head over the bannister from upstairs with a hand pressed over his mouth and his shoulders shaking. Prick.

Hoseok barreled into the foyer from the parlor, half of a Twizzler hanging out of his mouth, clever eyes round and filled with joy.

“No way. You told her!?” Hoseok fist-bumped the air, whistling his three-note tone, russet tail swinging merrily. Y/N’s jaw was loose, the idea that Seokjin had been discussing his feelings for her with Hoseok hard to fathom.

Namjoon’s door cracked open a few inches, his eyebrow raised in curiosity as he glanced out into the hall, his glasses slipping down the bridge of his nose. Despite the news, his gaze went straight to the front door, making sure it was locked up, his half-bitten ear fluttering in satisfaction.

“Didn’t strike me as the polyamorous type, kiddo,” Jeongguk slouched down the stairs, tattoos on both his arms exposed with the muscle tee he was wearing. “You on the other hand, Pink Panther, you should work on subtlety.”

Embarrassed by the jab from Jeongguk, an amused glitter in his black eyes, Y/N shot him a withering glare, very aware of Seokjin still holding her mid-air like a child.

“Yo, Yoongi! You have competition!” Hoseok shouted in the direction of the kitchen, the leopard hybrid popping into the hall and giving Hoseok the finger.

“Foxy, I’ve never heard a voice as grating as yours, let alone known someone to flap their gums so much,” Yoongi seethed, though his expression softened when he looked at Y/N. The silent exchange between the two was, as always, supernatural, the uneven set of Yoongi’s mouth almost telling her congratulations. “Leave Y/N alone, you’re embarrassing her.”

Hoseok finished chewing his Twizzler, still staring at Seokjin proudly, Y/N tapping on Seokjin’s shoulders for him to put her down sheepishly. Seokjin, reluctantly, lowered her to the floor, glee still plain as day on his face.

“You guys could have a thr—” Hoseok was cut off when Yoongi used the dish rag he was still holding to smack the back of the fox hybrid’s head, even Seokjin offering Hoseok a low, feral growl. “Nevermind! I’ll butt out! Y/N, come watch Step Brothers with me!”

Hoseok, quick to recover from the sharp whack of the towel, his hand massaging his scalp with a wince, gestured towards the parlor, winking at Y/N merrily. Y/N snorted, hoping that the shameful spark of enticement that struck through her at that idea was undetected by the hybrids in the foyer. Jeongguk was calling Hoseok a ‘dirty goddamn pervert’ before retreating outside for a smoke.

Casting a look upstairs, Y/N noticed Taehyung’s door ajar, the Kodiak hybrid’s head of dark curly hair visible. Too far away to gauge his reaction, Y/N hoped that he wasn’t upset, even though Seokjin had cut right to the chase, declared their mutual affection, and they weren’t sneaking around. She felt immensely awkward, between Yoongi and Hoseok still bickering, Taehyung watching from upstairs, and Namjoon’s disinterested retreat back into his bedroom.

“Wanna go watch the movie with me?” Y/N put her focus on Seokjin, unwilling to part with him just yet, and truthfully, missing Hoseok like a lost limb. “I can stay up for a bit longer before I head to bed for work tomorrow.”

“Mmm-hm,” Seokjin easily agreed, the peeved look on his face disappearing when Y/N reached for his hand. Before they left for the parlor, Y/N addressed Yoongi, who was heading back into the kitchen, murmuring something about “fuckin’ fox”.

“Hey, angel. Any idea where Jimin is?” Y/N tried to pay no mind to Seokjin pressing on the vulnerable skin of the inside of her wrist with his thumb, Yoongi humming and leaning forward, kissing her cheekbone with a featherlight ghost of his lips.

“His room, showering. Can’t you hear the noisy-ass pipes?” Yoongi replied, jutting his chin forward in the direction of Jimin’s room down the hall. “Don’t worry. Every hybrid in a two mile radius heard Seokjin’s declaration.”

“Ass,” Y/N muttered, narrowly dodging the dish towel he twisted up to level a smack to her behind, Seokjin growling gutturally and tugging Y/N towards the parlor, ignoring Yoongi’s amused snickers.

Hoseok was already comfortable on the recliner, the movie queued up, snacking on his Twizzlers with a wry smirk on his face, staring pointedly at her and Seokjin’s intertwined fingers. Resisting the urge to wipe that smirk off his face with her mouth, Y/N squeaked when Seokjin yanked on her hand, the jaguar hybrid plopping down on the couch with her in tow. Somehow, she found her legs draped over his lap, her back leaning on the armrest and his hands running up and down her calves indulgently. It seemed Seokjin was resuming his touchiness, and that time around, he jacked up the intensity to one thousand.

Hoseok simply played the movie, like her and Seokjin sitting like that was completely ordinary, Y/N finding herself a little tense with the intimacy of the position she was in. However, as seconds ticked by and Seokjin’s fingertips massaged her skin vigorously, she was melting into the couch, eyes already heavy with sleep. Over the noise of the movie, Seokjin’s content purrs lulled her to sleep, and the next time she had consciousness was when she felt him gather her in his arms and carry her to her bedroom.

“I think we’re going to schedule the investigation for Monday, do you think that will work?” Y/N was in the process of stacking a new batch of Labradorite onto the crystal table at the shop, Judy helping her with her silver bangles jangling.

“You’ll have to give Erika a call, and I’ll book the hotel that the family will stay in overnight,” Judy replied, blowing sandy hair out of her face.

Y/N had about one million things going on in her life at that point, but prioritizing the investigation was at the near top of the list. First, of course, was Hoseok’s birthday that upcoming Saturday, and Y/N had finally managed to plan what they were doing after squeezing it out of him. That aside, she hadn’t seen hide nor hair of Jimin in 24 hours, the coyote hybrid was already outside with the horses before she went to work that morning, so Y/N had no idea what he thought of her and Seokjin yet. Taehyung, at least, was present for her early breakfast with Yoongi, and didn’t appear upset at all, which had her and Yoongi exchanging secret looks of pure disbelief.

“Y/N? Did you hear me?” Judy snapped her out of her thoughts, a kind smile on her face when Y/N realized she was staring blankly at a slab of rose quartz.

“O-oh, no, I’m so sorry. I have a lot on my mind, my bad,” Y/N stuttered, Judy nodding while adjusting the way a sphere of Labradorite was sitting in a shallow bowl, so the flash of blue in the crystal was sparkling just right. “What did you say?”

“Not to worry, Y/N. I was just asking about your hybrids… that reading I gave you many months ago. Have you seen any truth in it?”

It was common for Judy to speak like that, as if she didn’t have psychic ability, but it didn’t bother Y/N at all. In fact, she preferred Judy’s way of going about divination rather than her mother’s tactic of going behind her back or blurting out her random premonitions without warning.

“I…” Y/N fumbled with the box in front of her, accidentally dropping the rose quartz point she was holding. “I took some notes, like you suggested. I was able to connect the cards to each of them.”

“Really?” Judy exclaimed, excitement lighting up her green eyes, though the tug at the corner of her mouth told Y/N her boss knew as much.

“Considering my boy’s pasts, when you gave me that reading at the time, I was sort of against the idea of entertaining any kind of romance between us. I wanted them to feel safe enough to start living their lives how they wanted. But I couldn’t help…”

“Falling?” Judy raised an eyebrow, her smile kind and sincere.

“Yeah, more like I hurtled myself off the cliff of no return,” Y/N joked, thoughts going to Seokjin, who sent her off that morning with dozens of kisses peppered across her cheeks. She thought of Yoongi, who got up extra early to make more chicken for her lunch. How Taehyung would snap pictures of her when she wasn’t looking, Namjoon’s thoughtful nightly book recommendations.

“Good to know that my readings are still accurate,” Judy was amused, placing another crystal on the table with a chuckle. “That’s why you’ve been so chipper these days. A couple of months ago you seemed very stressed out.”

“I’m still figuring things out. Two of them reciprocate my feelings, so far,” Y/N mumbled quietly, somehow finding it nice to confide in her boss. Her mother would be way too excited to talk about her and the boys.

“Is one of them part of our new investigation team?” Judy got to her feet, dusting off her maxi skirt. “That wolf hybrid seemed quite protective of you that day you brought him here in August.”

Y/N blinked, thinking back to that day– it was the first day she even spoke to Namjoon, the day she brought him home. She shook her head quickly, a pang in her chest, remembering his stoic indifference towards her relationships with Yoongi and Seokjin.

“No, he’s not one of them,” she replied, Judy chuckling once again.

“Stubborn, I remember that from the card I pulled for him.”

“Oh, not to change the subject, but speaking of Namjoon– my wolf hybrid, I mean,” Y/N joined Judy at the counter with the empty cardboard box from the kitchen, chewing her lip. “He’s interested in coming to work with me a few times a week. Would it be okay if I bring him next time I’m here?”

Judy helped her break down the cardboard box, nodding enthusiastically.

“That would be wonderful! We won’t have to haul in these crystal boxes anymore and break our backs. I take it he’s interested in your practice?”

“I think he just likes to get out of the house, and he’s a big reader. Honestly it’s our book collection here that interests him, most likely,” Y/N glanced at her watch, noting that it was time for her lunch break, mouth watering at the thought of Yoongi’s chicken. “He’ll be happy you said yes, thank you so much!”

Judy waved her off like ‘no problem’ heading to the back room. Typically, around lunch, Judy would leave Y/N at the shop and head home if she had no scheduled readings. According to the books, there was no one scheduled for services, so it was likely Judy was on her way out and Y/N would have to lock up later. Humming as she unpacked her lunch, she shot Namjoon a text.

Y/N: Judy says you can come to work with me whenever you want! 🥳

Joonie 🐺: Thanks for asking, I’ll come with you next week.

Namjoon wasn’t much of a texter, so she left it at that, grinning at her lockscreen as she closed it. She tended to rotate wallpapers, but currently, it was the picture of Jimin and Seokjin laughing at Hoseok being chased around by Bandit the rooster. Every time she saw it, it made her snort, her heart warming. Y/N flinched when she got a notification from her banking app, her direct deposit hitting her admittedly semi-drained account. Sighing with relief, as she had spent quite a bit of money on Hoseok’s upcoming birthday, she thought it was all worth it when she glanced at his smiling face on her lockscreen.

“We should go on a date,” Seokjin had his arms wrapped around her waist from behind while she was folding some laundry in her room, his tail winding around her leg and lips in her ear. She dropped the tank top she was holding in surprise, craning her neck so she could look at him.

“You wanna take me on a date, Seokjinnie?” Y/N cooed, prodding at his cheek teasingly. “Where do you want to go, honey?”

Seokjin pursed his lips as he thought, nestling his chin in the crook of her neck. Nearly swooning at how affectionate he had become in just two days, she felt his steady heartbeat flush against her back.

“We don’t even have to go anywhere, pretty. We can stay here, just do something special, the two of us,” Seokjin replied, her cheeks aflame when he called her pretty, but Y/N was reminded of Seokjin’s slight distaste for traveling, so she got what he was trying to say.

“I like the sound of that,” Y/N resumed folding her tank top, already cooking up some ideas for an at-home date for the two of them. “How about next Friday, the 24th. I’ll plan something for the two of us, okay?”

“Mmm,” Seokjin agreed, kissing her temple, regretfully pulling away from her and reaching for the laundry basket to help her out. “Only if you let me plan some things of my own for that night.”

“Of course, love,” Y/N giggled, but her laughter was cut short once she glanced at the jaguar hybrid, who was currently folding a pair of her lacy panties. “Oh my god. Let me fold that!”

Snatching the thong away from him, Y/N wanted to throw up from humiliation, but all Seokjin did was snort, retrieving another pair of panties from the laundry basket– to her mortification.

“You’re acting like I’ve never seen these before. Pretty, don’t you know that we’ve all been folding your underwear for months each time we have laundry duty?” Seokjin was ever so nonchalant, Y/N stupidly realizing that her panties didn’t magically appear in her dresser, when she wasn’t the one to pull them out of the dryer.

“Oh my god,” Y/N face-planted into her mattress, the realization like a bucket of ice water dumped over her head.

She pictured smug Jeongguk in the laundry room, hanging up one of her skimpy bralettes, or worse, utility-grade sports bras on the drying rack, nearly curling into herself in shame. Seokjin patted her back, barely containing his laughter, but all that did was make Y/N want to hide in a hole even more.

“Y/N, you wash our underwear every week, fold it, too. You bought us underwear, you know what they look like. Don’t be so embarrassed,” Seokjin hauled Y/N up by her elbows, clear humor written all over his face, Y/N unsure whether or not she enjoyed it when he teased her so much. “Ooh. I like these ones.”

Seokjin dangled a pair of baby pink panties in front of her face with his forefinger and thumb, the pair with a tiny bow on the waistline, the fabric a mixture of cotton and lace. Absolutely scandalized, Y/N felt both involuntary arousal and annoyance strike through her.

“Okay, now you’re fucking with me,” Y/N bat his hand out of her face, Seokjin’s squeaky laughter filling the room noisily. “Don’t be pervy, Seokjin. It doesn’t suit you!”

“Oh, no?” Seokjin cocked his head, his sleek black ears fluttering as his expression turned sly. “Shame…”

Y/N swore Seokjin’s eyes darkened, and she wondered what he meant by that, hurriedly grabbing her underwear from him and stuffing the garment into her dresser. She heard Seokjin snicker, but he mercifully stopped teasing her, moving on to fold a pair of her pajamas instead, biting his lip.

“Um, so what should we have for dinner tonight?” Y/N changed the subject, trying to block out sudden lewd thoughts surrounding her and Seokjin, her movements jittery.

Seokjin looked like he wanted her for dinner that night, but he managed to compose himself with his gorgeous smile, tucking her pajamas into her drawer beside her. She mentally dared him to make the innuendo that was no doubt floating around his head, but Seokjin didn’t– Y/N hardly knew if she was relieved or disappointed.

“Well, we got those steaks in the fridge Yoongi picked up from the butcher’s shop. Didn’t you show me a recipe for steak with some kind of bourbon sauce?”

“Oh, yeah, I could go for that,” Y/N’s mouth watered, already picturing her plate filled with meat, smashed potatoes, and maybe some crispy green beans.

Seokjin purred, closing up her dresser. Turning, Seokjin reached for her chin, Y/N’s heart pounding harshly in her chest, the jaguar hybrid looking down at her through his eyelashes. Tilting her face up, Seokjin’s hold on her firm but delicate, and involuntarily, her tongue peeked out to moisten her lips while Seokjin’s eyes narrowed as he followed the movement. She was staring at his mouth in a daze, saying huh when he spoke again, not hearing him the first time.

“I said, pretty,” Seokjin’s thumb pressed on her lower lip, his voice lilting and spellbinding like a siren. “If we make that, take it easy on the bourbon, okay? You got sick last time Jimin brought out the whiskey.”

“I forgot about that,” Y/N responded quietly, blush settling over her cheeks when she remembered how Seokjin had to hold her hair back while she spilled her guts into the toilet after one glass, his free hand soothingly rubbing her back when she heaved over the porcelain bowl. “Emb-barassing. At least you still loved me after that, hurling and crying hysterically… what a mess.”

“Hmm…” Seokjin strengthened the hold he had on her chin, his expression a combination of playfulness and reapproach, making her gut tighten. “What do you humans say when you get married? ‘In sickness and in health’?”

Jaw hanging loose, still not used to how deeply Seokjin felt for her, and she was at a loss as to what to say. Appearing smug, Seokjin kissed her forehead softly, continuing to speak when she had no reply.

“Remember, you took care of my fever when you adopted me? I was returning that gesture!”

“I love you,” was all Y/N could think of in response, feeling his tail wind around her waist sensually, Y/N leaning forward and up, capturing his lips in a surprise kiss, Seokjin freezing for a moment before he parted his mouth slightly, kissing her lower lip sweetly.

Seokjin had yet to kiss her in a way that was, well, more heated, but she loved the chaste, adoring kisses that he did offer her infinitely. She whimpered against his mouth when one of his hands landed on her lower back, pulling her closer into his embrace. Seokjin made his own noise of pleasure in response, one that had her stomach flipping over. Before she could deepen their kiss, like always, Seokjin pulled away, his pillowy lips shiny and red. Releasing the hold she had on him– fists curled into the material of his sweater, she pouted at the loss of contact, but Seokjin simply snorted through his nose and shook his head, his eyes sparkling.

“Let’s go, we still have to switch over the laundry before starting on dinner,” Seokjin let go of her, Y/N blinking away her desire, her pout growing deeper.

“Ugh, my muscles are sore. I don’t wanna go back upstairs,” Y/N complained, watching Seokjin scoop up the empty laundry basket, his face becoming contemplative as he assessed her, before he set the basket down again. “Judy had me schlepping in 30 pound boxes of crystals into the store all week.”

“Here, then,” Seokjin turned, bending slightly, motioning for her to get on his back with a cheeky grin. “I’ll carry you up.”

Normally, Y/N would have been embarrassed to take Seokjin up on the offer, but childlike glee welled up in herself instead– not even hesitating to jump on him with a giggle. Seokjin straightened up, adjusting his steady hold around the backs of her knees, giving her a piggyback ride up the stairs to the laundry room happily. Arms draped around her jaguar hybrid’s neck, elated, she indulged in a desire she had been holding onto for months– and planted a kiss on the side of his strong neck, Seokjin shivering beneath her.

Y/N watched Jeongguk lift a heavy box of gadgets into Namjoon’s van, the elk hybrid grunting with the weight of it, Y/N clicking her tongue at him. It may had had been a mistake to give him a bottomless budget to go crazy on ordering equipment, because he had enough of it to film an episode of Ghost Adventures and put Zak Bagans to shame. She supposed, however, that it made him happy and less bratty, and with just two days until the scheduled investigation, she noticed the elated difference in Jeongguk’s attitude.

“So,” Y/N began, hoping that the fact that he had a brand new set of electronics to mess with would loosen him up. “Hoseok’s birthday tonight. We’re all going to go out together, right?”

“Do I really have to spend the evening in a sweaty nightclub with a bunch of drunk and horny humans?” Jeongguk peered over his shoulder with a grimace, scratching one of his tapered ears.

“I spent almost a grand on a fucking table for eight, so yeah, you need to suck it up and put your leather pants on,” Y/N snapped, Jeongguk spinning around and staring at her with shock and contempt. “Seokjin doesn’t like loud noises or crowds and he still agreed to go for Hoseok.”

“Jesus wept, fine,” Jeongguk put his hands up, dark eyes round.

“You’ll have fun. Get wasted and listen to music, two of your favorite things to do,” Y/N soothed, smirking. Jeongguk rolled his eyes, returning to his task, fiddling with some kind of EMF detector that probably burnt a hole into her already slimmed-down wallet. “Where’s Joon?”

“Am I the wolf’s keeper or something?” Jeongguk raised his pierced brow, leaning his hip against the van and humming at the growing annoyance Y/N was feeling towards him. “Check the stable, he wanted to go for a walk, mentioned needing to talk to the coyote. Satisfied, kiddo?”

Muttering, she stormed away from him, peeved that he was laughing heartily at her tantrum. She wanted to similarly check in on Namjoon, who had yet to give a response to the idea of taking a limo and spending their Saturday night in a club for Hoseok. Positive that Namjoon had never stepped foot in a place like the club she had booked, she wanted to show him a few pictures so he’d have an idea of what he’d be walking into.

A couple of weeks prior, she cornered Hoseok, hugging him around his waist and refusing to let go until he picked out what he wanted to do for his birthday. Finally, he agreed to go out to the club, his cheeks red with embarrassment, but Y/N was relieved he told her so she could book a table in advance. The fox hybrid, the morning of his birthday, went out for his long-distance Saturday run, so she didn’t get to see much of him during the afternoon. No doubt, before they left, Hoseok would spend quite a bit of time getting showered and dressed for the occasion.

Wrapping her coat more tightly around her body, she had the stable in sight, the sound of chickens clucking within their coop, a layer of snow collected on the roof of the building. It was likely that Namjoon and Jimin heard and smelled her approach, but she hoped that she caught them off-guard, secretly. Those two particular hybrids were friendly towards each other, but it struck her as odd that Namjoon would have something in specific to discuss with the coyote hybrid.

Pausing by the stable door and peering around it cautiously, she spotted Jimin kneeling besides what appeared to be the early stages of the garden bed constructions, sawdust covering his jeans while he pointed at something. Neither of them glanced her way, Namjoon standing with his back to her, his arms crossed over his chest. Straining her ears, she was able to eavesdrop, astounded that neither of them caught her scent yet.

“–yeah, this smaller one here is for herbs, if that’s what you mean,” Jimin was saying, his sandy tail swishing against the ground.

“Do you think it’s big enough?” Namjoon had skepticism painting his tone.

“Why, you don’t think so? Y/N wanted a small one for cooking herbs,” Jimin was chewing on his lip, light eyebrows pulled together.

“Can you do another medium-sized one? I’ve been doing some research on the types of herbs she’d be able to grow during the summer in this area, there’s quite a few. That way she’ll have a bigger variety for her practice, and we can keep the culinary herbs separate,” Namjoon requested, Y/N clasping a hand over her mouth, blown away that Namjoon would do something so nice for her without her knowing.

“Yeah, I can do that, I have enough extra plywood,” Jimin seemed just as stunned as Y/N, his yellow eyes wide, straightening up and sticking his hands into the pockets of his blue jeans. “You’re going tonight, right?”

“You think I’m going to let Y/N waltz into a nightclub without me? Human men are fucking disgusting. She needs us all,” Namjoon scoffed, Y/N feeling like her head was swimming. “Besides the humans, drugging and assaulting each other, Hoseok is going to cut loose, so will some of the others, so it’s important someone stays relatively sober. That’s why I’m mad at the kid right now, not wanting to tag along.”

“You mean Jeongguk? I think he’ll go, too. He seems like a tough son of a bitch, but he thinks similarly to you. Isn’t that why you’re close? Isn’t that why he was the only one able to calm you down… that night?”

Namjoon’s chest rumbled, his ears turning downwards at the mention of the night he and Taehyung had their altercation.

“I don’t like to think of that night,” Namjoon replied quietly, the constant sway of his tail stilling somberly. “Regardless, I don’t give a shit how Jeongguk feels, I don’t care if I have to drag him by his antlers to the club. He’s going.”

“Y/N spent a lot of money on Hoseok for this,” Jimin scratched his chin sympathetically, strolling to the stack of plywood, his steel-toed boots echoing around the lofty stable. “If he doesn’t go, he’ll make a lot of new enemies around here.”

“Dramatic phrasing,” Namjoon snickered, though as he moved for the first time Y/N had been spying on them, his mouth was in a thin line, evidently agreeing with Jimin. “I wouldn’t say enemies, but between Yoongi, the bear, and Seokjin, grudges would be made.”

Jimin made a noncommittal noise of agreement, Y/N beginning to feel guilty for eavesdropping, and her head was about to explode from the apparent concern Namjoon and Jimin had for her. Y/N was so wrapped up in her own feelings and care for the boys, she forgot to realize that they might hold her well-being in high regard as well.

Backing up a few steps as quietly as she could, she made some clumsy human noises, skipping into the stable like she hadn’t heard anything. She was proud of herself for not giving herself away with a lovestruck look plastered on her face, the fur on Namjoon’s tail standing on end when she barreled into the building, the tips of his ears turning red.

“Hi guys, whatcha up to?” Y/N asked innocently, Jimin blinking and dropping the piece of plywood he was holding.

“Just talking about the garden beds,” Namjoon recovered smoothly, in stark contrast to Jimin’s attempts to seem nonchalant. “What time are we leaving tonight?”

“Ooh, Joonie, you’re going to come?” Y/N continued to play stupid, leaning on one of the empty horse stalls, one that Jimin kept a surplus of hay in. “I think we’ll leave around 9:30. The club doesn’t open until 10 anyways. Jimin, you’ll come too, sweetheart?”

Jimin’s cheeks turned pink, nervously brushing sawdust from his jeans, nodding. It was somewhat hilarious to watch the two of them pretend they weren’t just talking about her, and Y/N wasn’t about to embarrass them by revealing she had been listening on, so she feigned normalcy by picking imaginary lint off of her pink sherpa coat.

“Of course, Y/N,” Jimin blurted, using the toe of his boot to push the plywood he dropped away, one hand gliding through his golden hair. “Wouldn’t miss it!”

Thankfully, once Y/N was able to find Jimin after Seokjin’s declaration the following day when she came home from work, the coyote hybrid had acted totally normal. Having a sneaking suspicion that like Taehyung, and even Seokjin himself, Jimin was a little bit avoidant, she decided if he was going to pretend nothing was different, so would she.

“How are we getting there?” Namjoon cleared his throat, stalking up to her side.

“I ordered a limo. Just about the only vehicle that can get us somewhere all together,” Y/N smirked, Namjoon cocking his head in confusion. Often, she forgot Namjoon wasn’t familiar with things like that. “It’s like a shorter, longer version of your van, kind of. Bench seats and a fridge filled with champagne, and the driver is separated by a partition.”

“Flashy,” Namjoon scoffed, Y/N flicking off a clump of hay clinging to his forearm. “Matches the fox’s personality, I guess.”

“Oh, yeah. There’s a dress code, I figured you two should know that– no athletic wear. Just basic slacks and a nice shirt, essentially.”

“That eliminates half of Hoseok’s wardrobe,” Jimin piped up, his ears twitching when Y/N giggled.

“Yeah, but he cleans up well,” Y/N could hardly wait to see what Hoseok would pull out of his closet– she had zero doubts he’d look drop dead sexy. “Alright, good. Everyone’s on board! I’m gonna go shower and scrounge up something for dinner later.”

“Dress warmly, the temperature is going to drop later,” Namjoon called after her, a frown on his face.

“Can’t make any promises, Joonie,” Y/N sent a wink his way, missing the low growl rumbling through his chest, picturing the dress she had bought for the very occasion and sashaying away.

“She’s going to do as she pleases, isn’t she,” Namjoon muttered to Jimin, who was eyeing the way her hips swayed as she walked, but the wolf hybrid had a wry smile stretching across his face.

Y/N took the opportunity of going out for Hoseok’s birthday to pull out all the stops appearance-wise, and she had to admit to herself, she was doing too well at it. Her makeup was dark and sultry, hair done to utter perfection, and the dress. She saw a picture of it online and bought it so fast she thought her computer was going to catch on fire. Taking a look at herself in the full-length mirror, she admired how lethal her figure looked in the short bodycon dress, legs on display, the off-the-shoulder cut of the neckline showing off the choker Namjoon gave her for Christmas. She was in the middle of strapping her heels around her ankles when a knock came on her door tentatively. Y/N guessed it might have been Taehyung, due to the hesitant sound of the knuckles against the wood.

Heels clicking against the hardwood, she reached the door, taking a deep breath, nervously wondering what Taehyung would think of her outfit– she had never worn something so revealing around the boys and it had her hands shaking on the doorknob. Throwing it open, Taehyung’s sandalwood cologne hit her smack in the face, his carmine eyes nearly bugging out of his head when he saw her. Unable to help himself, his gaze lowered, staring at the way the material of her dress clung to every curve, his lips parting.

“What’s up, Tae?” Y/N blurted, dazzled by his appearance, his dark curls pushed off of his forehead, a silky white button-down with pearls making up the buttons, and straight-leg slacks. Her eyes lingered on the thin gold chain around his throat, her gift to him from Christmas, too bashful to make eye contact all of a sudden.

“The… the car, the car’s here,” Taehyung was dazed, eyes glued to her legs, Y/N’s mouth drying up. “That’s what you’re wearing?”

“Uh, yeah, why? You don’t like it?” Y/N felt her face fall, Taehyung’s throat bobbing when he swallowed urgently, shaking his head.

“N-no, it’s fine,” Taehyung’s strained voice had color pooling in her cheeks, blindly reaching behind her so she could grab her clutch. “I’ll get your coat.”

Taehyung darted away, smoke pretty much coming off of his heels, leaving Y/N stunned. Perhaps she had gone a tad overboard with the sexy dress. That aside, his reaction had hope blooming in her chest; if that was his heated reaction to the way she looked, could it be possible that had at least a semblance of an attraction towards her? Squaring her shoulders at the thought, she marched out into the hall confidently, and when she reached the foyer, most of her boys were hanging out around the stairwell, except for Taehyung, who appeared to be fishing around in the coat closet with stiff posture.

Similar to how they reacted at the cookout when she came out in her sundress, silence swept over the room with her arrival. Jimin’s face was so red she could probably fry an egg on one of his cheeks. Even usually-composed Yoongi’s eyes had gone round, dropping the sports jacket he was holding. Giving her a once over, licking his lips, Yoongi chuckled softly and shook his head.

“Ready to go? Where’s Hoseok?” Y/N was hoping she wasn’t reading smug, Seokjin frowning when he poked his head around Jeongguk’s frame, heat in his gaze but disapproval mixing with it.

“Getting shit from the kitchen,” Jeongguk answered blandly, picking his nails. He tried to be nonchalant, but she caught him looking at her out of the corner of his eye.

“Y/N, it’s really cold outside,” Seokjin narrowed his eyes at her bare legs, adjusting the collar of his black oxford shirt, a few of the buttons undone.

“I know, that’s why my arms are covered,” retorted, gesturing to the long sleeves of the dress. “We won’t be outside for long, anyways, and it gets hot in those clubs.”

Seokjin was entirely unconvinced, watching Taehyung emerge from the coat closet, handing Y/N her longest, thickest coat, barely looking at her while she snickered at his selection. Shrugging it on, aware of all of the attention on herself– and for once, she enjoyed it thoroughly.

“Alright! Got the champagne! Y/N darling, shall we?” Hoseok waltzed in from the kitchen looking all kinds of delicious, in a white suit and a blue silky shirt, a bottle of Moet in one of his hands, using a free one to hook around her elbow and tow her to the front door. “Don’t forget to lock up, wolf!”

Namjoon, waiting by the door, eyeing Y/N’s neck and the choker encircling it, jingled the keys to the house in his fist, and waited for everyone to follow her and Hoseok to the limo waiting outside before he locked up.

Yoongi made it to her free side with a smirk on his face, Y/N admiring the way he styled his long hair. Hoseok was the first one inside of the limo while Yoongi held Y/N’s hand as she slid in herself, brushing a kiss on the back of it.

“You look gorgeous,” Yoongi said proudly, sitting beside her, Y/N nudging him in the ribs with her elbow. “Gonna have to keep my eye on you tonight.”

Hoseok had brought their portable speaker, already jacking up the volume on a rap playlist, grinning wickedly as the rest of the hybrids climbed into the limo. Jeongguk had to pay particular attention to his antlers so he wouldn’t knock them against the ceiling, slouching low on the bench he was on. It was hard not to laugh at his grouchiness as he held onto a champagne flute with a fist, though his saving grace were the leather pants he did indeed put on, highlighting his muscular thighs.

Last one into the limo was Namjoon, cramming himself in between Jeongguk and Seokjin, the latter of which was directly across from Y/N, his expression more feline than ever, Y/N squirming in her seat under the weight of his gaze. To distract herself, she turned to Hoseok, clinking her glass with his, the fox hybrid pinching her cheek happily.

“Happy birthday Hoseok!” Y/N cheered, wrapping an arm around his shoulders for a brief side-hug, careful to not spill her drink on his crisp white sports jacket when the limo started to pull out of the driveway.

Leaning into her playfully, Hoseok turned up the speaker even louder, Y/N enjoying watching her hybrids loosen up, champagne in hands, and looking forward to a new experience. With Seokjin looking at her like that, however, she didn’t know if she’d make it through the night without pushing him against a wall.

Music pulsing from the speakers, Y/N already armed with a cocktail, she once again thought that the hefty price tag on the table she bought was worth it when she sunk into the cushy booth with satisfaction. The club, called “The Grand Boston”, was decorated lavishly, had an enormous bar, and was lit up brilliantly. Besides her own hybrids, several of which were ordering drinks at the bar, Y/N was surprised to see others milling around with their humans, which was relieving– not as many eyes on her and the fact that she had seven of them with her.

“Wanna order a bottle? They have Casamigos, your favorite,” Y/N spoke loudly over the music to her fox hybrid, who was in the middle of taking a shot, his face screwing up as he shoved a lime between his teeth.

“Nah, they jack up the prices, we can just get a few rounds of shots,” Hoseok replied after a moment, smirking at Jimin sliding into the booth, tumbler of whiskey in his hand.

“I mean, we might as well get bottle service, Foxy. It’s your birthday and we have this table,” Y/N rolled her eyes, flagging down someone to order the liquor.

“Oooh, pulling out all the stops for me?” Hoseok teased, flashing her a stunning smile, motioning for Seokjin to join them when the jaguar hybrid returned from the bar with his cocktail, and due to the warm temperature of the club, he had pulled another button loose on his shirt.

With more of his collar bones exposed, Y/N’s mouth involuntarily watered, and to cover it up she immediately poured herself a shot and downed it expertly. Somehow, she felt bad that she was having such thirsty thoughts about sweet Seokjin. Completely oblivious, he placed his arm around her shoulders, offering her a sip of the Moscow mule, angling the black straw to her lips. Then again, the spark in his eye as her lips wrapped around the straw told a different story, one that had the blood boiling in her veins.

“Um, the others?” Y/N broke the trance she was in, addressing Jimin. She could see Jeongguk by the bar, forearms leaning against the counter, Namjoon beside him, both of them in deep conversation that probably surrounded their upcoming investigation on Monday.

“They’re around. Don’t worry, Y/N, they won’t leave without you,” Jimin read her mind, knocking back his drink and watching people head towards the dance floor.

“Alright. Plan is to get wasted and go dance,” Hoseok began lining up shots, Seokjin snorting beside her. “Don’t laugh at me on my birthday, Jinnie. Here. Cheers!”

Y/N watched, praying she wasn’t being creepy, as Seokjin sprinkled salt on the back of his hand, swiping his tongue over the skin, before he hastily took the shot of tequila with a wince, Y/N hurriedly handing him a lime to suck on.

After a couple of rounds of shots, Y/N already feeling the liquor loosen her up and ready to dance, Yoongi joined them with his glass of Hennessy, refusing to touch the Casamigos.

“I can’t do tequila, Foxy. Makes me sick to my fuckin’ stomach,” Yoongi frowned when Hoseok slid the shot glass towards him, Seokjin taking it instead. Jimin, at least, participated, his face getting redder by the minute with all the booze.

“Come on, let’s dance,” Y/N stood, miraculously stable on her heels, hands extended for someone, anyone, to take them, and at once, Hoseok leapt to his feet, palm sliding into hers, motioning for Seokjin to take her free one.

Seokjin got up, somehow handling all of the tequila incredibly well, Y/N giggling as her fox and jaguar hybrids began to lead her to the dance floor.

“I’ll stay here and watch,” Yoongi’s sly expression ticked her off, giving her a once-over from behind his glass. Jimin was off to the bathroom and to refresh his whiskey, Y/N thinking it was likely his last round before he totally blacked out.

Led by Hoseok, who had long since ditched his sports jacket, they weaved through the crowd, Y/N suddenly remembered Seokjin’s aversion to seas of people. Casting him a worried look over her shoulder, Seokjin mouthed ‘I’m fine’, the grip he had on her left hand tightening. She caught something out of the corner of her eye, an extremely sparkly dress a young woman was wearing.

Trying to get a better look at the shimmering fabric, she paused– the woman was apparently flirting with someone, someone Y/N recognized immediately even if it was just the back of his head. Taehyung, who she hadn’t seen since they stopped by the coat check, was talking to a random girl, something that Y/N assumed the Kodiak hybrid would be way too shy to do. Mouth hanging open, drunken jealousy surging through her as she realized Taehyung could sense her presence via scent and didn’t even turn to look at her, his shoulders shaking in laughter as he responded to something the woman said. Again, Seokjin squeezed her hand, spinning the two of them slightly so their backs were to Taehyung, Y/N grateful for Seokjin’s keen perceptivity and consideration.

Facing Hoseok, who finally found a good place in the center of the club, far enough away from the speakers that would blow their eardrums out, Y/N shook away remaining jealousy and focused on the fox hybrid instead, who was doing some kind of silly dance to get her attention. The little number he was doing was in stark contrast to how sexy he looked, his sleeves rolled up over his elbows, eyes slightly lidded from the shots, ears drooping.

“Let’s see what you two got,” Hoseok shouted over the music, and Y/N would have been hesitant if it weren’t for the tequila, but she found herself mirroring Hoseok’s swaying movements, a confident smile on his face. “Come on, Jinnie, weren’t you an acrobat? You must have some moves!”

Y/N shuddered when Seokjin’s chest was suddenly pressed to her back, simply holding her hips while she rolled them, her cheeks on fire while Hoseok cackled, clocking the fluster all over Y/N’s face. It was then, she decided fuck it, both presssing her hips backwards into Seokjin and pulling Hoseok to her by the collar of his shirt, winding her arms around his neck. Seokjin grunted deeply into her ear, his lips grazing the shell of it, while all smug attitude was knocked out of Hoseok in a blink.

“Out of wisecracks? Dance with me,” Y/N challenged, something flashing dangerously in the fox hybrid’s eyes before his hands were on her waist, copying the movements she made, but careful not to collide his hips into hers.

Ben always used to warn her to stay away from the tequila, as she tended to get frisky with a few shots of it coursing through her system, but she didn’t care that night. Not when Seokjin’s grip on her hips was firm, letting her essentially grind backwards into him, and Hoseok was looking at her differently for the first time, the way he moved graceful and precise. The world seemed to fall away into neon lights, hypnotic music, and the two hybrids that she was sandwiched between, Y/N really letting loose by letting her head loll back onto Seokjin’s chest, eyes slipping shut. She was too tipsy to be embarrassed about her behavior, and judging by the dark purrs from behind her and the mirth returning to her fox hybrid’s eyes, the two of them were freely enjoying themselves as well.

“Wanna take another shot,” Y/N murmured after a while, pouting when Hoseok pulled away in favor of watching the light show, his tail swishing, though Seokjin still held her to his chest, his nose tucked into the base of her throat.

“I think you’re good, pretty,” Seokjin replied, squeezing her hips and turning her around, his palms gliding up to cup her waist, the thin material of her dress doing nothing to hide her shape nor the way his touch burned her deliciously. “Don’t want to overdo it now, right?”

Y/N rolled her eyes, leaning up, stamping a kiss on his exposed collarbone in hopes that it would butter him up. His skin was dewy with sweat, Y/N wanting to eat him alive, but she released her hold of his wide shoulders so she could make her way back to the table, and further, the bottle.

“Y/N,” Seokjin’s voice had a sharpened edge of warning to it, following closely behind, navigating through the tipsy crowd. Fortunately, she didn’t come across Taehyung and that girl, but when she remembered the interaction, it only strengthened her desire to hightail it to the table.

“Judas priest, kiddo,” Jeongguk was lazily reclined in the booth, his feet kicked up on one of the tables like he owned the joint, eyes roaming over her flushed skin, mussed hair, and the scent of alcohol coming off of her like a bar floor. “That’s not a good idea–”

Before any of the hybrids could get to her, including Yoongi who lurched forward to snatch the shot glass away and Jimin’s noises of alarm, Y/N had already poured the shot down her throat, not even feeling the burn of the liquor, batting Yoongi’s hands away when he tried to take the glass.

“Alright, sweetheart, that’s enough,” Yoongi scolded, pushing the bottle of tequila towards Jimin, who swiftly tucked it behind him with a worried look. “You’re going to be sick tomorrow.”

“So? I’m celebrating!” Y/N frowned, booping Yoongi’s nose. She wasn’t even slurring, for Christ’s sake, and she could still walk in her heels perfectly. “You’re all being worrywarts, I’m fine.”

“Why don’t you sit for a minute, I’ll have the server bring some snacks around,” Yoongi maneuvered Y/N into the booth, her grumbling the entire time, squirming next to Jeongguk. Seokjin went with Yoongi, both of them moving urgently.

“Fussy babies,” Y/N muttered, scanning the room for Hoseok, Namjoon, and Taehyung, crossing her legs and massaging her sore ankles. “I can hold my liquor.”

“Sometimes,” Jeongguk replied sarcastically, barely looking up from his phone, his fingertips flying over the keyboard. “It’s almost 2 AM. We should go soon, before the club closes.”

“Aw, but did you even get to dance? How about you, Jimin?” Y/N lamented, Hoseok returning from the dance floor, sweat slicking up his forehead when he pushed his damp hair back, a swagger in his step.

“Do I look like I dance, kiddo?” Jeongguk scoffed, draining his glass, setting his phone aside. “Time to head out, fox.”

“Yeah, the crowd is dwindling anyways. I’m ready to raid the fridge and pass out,” Hoseok grabbed his jacket that was slung over the booth, Jimin excusing himself to pay the tab and look for Taehyung.

“We can have some of your birthday cake!” Y/N exclaimed, suddenly less disappointed about going home if it meant she could have something sugary. “Awh, where’s Joon bug? He’ll want some cake too, I wanna tell him!”

“12 ‘o clock, darling,” Hoseok pointed beyond her shoulder, Namjoon trudging back to the booth with his jean jacket pulled around him, Y/N’s coat in his hands. Surprisingly, he seemed like the most sober of the bunch, offering her her coat with purpose.

“I talked to the driver outside, he’s ready when we are,” Namjoon announced, Y/N struggling to shrug her coat on while sitting down, Jeongguk clicking his tongue and helping her right arm through the sleeve.

“What about Tae, though?” To her embarrassment, Y/N’s head began to feel like it was floating, that last shot definitely a mistake like Jeongguk had said, as much as she hated to admit it. Her tongue was heavy in her mouth, and she barely reacted when Yoongi dropped a bag of mini pretzels in her lap, stomach turning at the thought of chewing.

“Already outside, Y/N. Can you walk?” Namjoon made a motion for the rest of the hybrids to start heading towards the door with authority, Seokjin kissing the top of her head before he made sure Hoseok was going in the right direction.

“Yesss, I can walk, Joonie,” Y/N grouched, hauling herself to her feet, but unfortunately, her knees buckled. Cursing, Namjoon caught her swiftly before she could collapse on the floor, strong arms supporting her weight, Y/N limp.

“That’s a no, then,” Namjoon sighed, bending his knees, slinging Y/N over his shoulder in one smooth movement. Y/N squealed, scrabbling for a hold on the back of his jacket and staring at the floor, thankfully not getting violently nauseous as her world was turned upside-down and the wolf hybrid started walking. “Thank god I’m here. I hope you didn’t party like this in college, Y/N, it’s dangerous.”

“I’m currently b-breathing, aren’t I, Joon? Put me down, I’m embarrassed,” Y/N whined, whacking his back with her palms. Namjoon, however, was known to be unyielding. He promptly ignored her complaints, her strikes against his muscled back useless and truthfully, pathetic.

“I don’t know why you insisted on wearing those shoes. Your ankles are swelling,” Namjoon grunted, her heated face meeting some relief in the icy night air, the sounds of drunk clubgoers up and down the sidewalk. “You’re a handful, Y/N.”

“And you’re not, Namjoon?” Y/N squawked, astonished. However, Namjoon chuckled quietly, finally setting her down in front of the waiting limo, one broad palm on her lower back to help keep her upright while climbing in.

“Never claimed I wasn’t,” Namjoon replied offhand, clambering in behind her, the rest of the boys in various states of intoxication and exhaustion. “Are there sick bags in here?”

Namjoon was speaking to Yoongi, who was apparently the only one sober enough to have spatial awareness, even Jeongguk nodding off in the far end of the limo, the leopard hybrid waving a paper bag in front of Namjoon’s face. Jimin, Hoseok, and Seokjin were cracking open another bottle of champagne, while Taehyung was busy on his phone, presumably texting; Y/N dreaded to know exactly who.

“I’m not going to get sick, dad,” Y/N poked Namjoon in the bicep, peeved, the wolf hybrid choking on the sip of water he had taken, his fist pounding on his chest to clear the liquid from his lungs. Not expecting that reaction, Y/N felt laughter bubbling up in her throat, poking him again before setting her sights on Yoongi.

“What’s with that look?” Yoongi asked suspiciously, Y/N biting her lip, clumsily pouncing on him, sitting on one of his thighs and giving him a sloppy smooch on his cheek. “Oh boy. No more Casamigos for you, ever.”

“Angel, my feet hurt,” Y/N’s vision was fuzzy, supported by Yoongi’s arm around her back, the leopard hybrid letting her bury her face in his shirt, breathing in his familiar sweet scent, his tail caressing her bare calves.

Without asking, Yoongi exhaled, gripping one of her ankles gingerly and unfastening the straps around them. Easing each shoe off her foot as carefully as he could, Yoongi placed them in between him and Taehyung, who paused his texting to assess the spectacle. The Kodiak hybrid’s eyes lingered on the way Yoongi was prodding lightly around her swelling ankles to release pressure, but when he caught Y/N staring back at him, he returned to his phone with his tongue in his cheek.

Petulance took over, so instead of letting Taehyung’s iciness bother her, she focused on Yoongi’s touch, sighing blissfully, his talented hands kneading into her sore muscles, purring softly behind her. She was half asleep when something dawned on her, shooting straight up from Yoongi’s lap with an exclamation, looking around frantically for her clutch.

“Looking for this?” Namjoon held it up, his eyebrows raised, sucking in his cheeks.

Making grabby hands for it, Y/N thanked him quietly for keeping an eye on all of her things, before she clumsily maneuvered to the back of the limo where Hoseok was. Jeongguk was still drowsily trying to stay awake, his head bobbing, but Jimin had passed out finally. Hoseok and Seokjin switched to water, luckily, so when she took a seat beside her fox hybrid, he was a touch more sober than he was 15 minutes prior.

“How are you doing, darling?” Hoseok’s face was rounded out in sleep, content all over it.

“I forgot to give you this,” Y/N began digging around in her clutch, Hoseok sitting up a bit straighter and making a strange, fox-like noise in the back of his throat. “Seokjinnie got you something, remember, Jin?”

Seokjin had also apparently forgotten, blinking harshly. Finding the item at the bottom of the clutch, a tiny rectangular box, she opened it, handing Hoseok a silver bracelet, the chain link the exact same as the one Seokjin had on his ring. Seokjin had the adorable idea of getting them something that matched in some way, and Y/N had no problems letting the jaguar hybrid pick it out.

Hoseok was at a loss, holding the bracelet with his mouth open, Y/N stifling a laugh at his reaction. Seokjin shifted in his seat across from them, amused but also vulnerable.

“Jinnie, is this like a friendship bracelet?” Hoseok deadpanned, radiant joy coming off of him.

“Uh-huh. Happy birthday,” Seokjin broke out in a grin, Y/N’s heart warm with how sweet their close friendship was, Hoseok demanding the jaguar hybrid to clasp it around his wrist. “You two mean a lot to me.”

“Aw, Jinnie, you’re like my big brother,” Hoseok cooed, Seokjin rolling his eyes, but Y/N knew how profound those words were to Hoseok. The fox hybrid spent years in many places, never able to put down roots, much less make close friendships. “And you’re my little darling.”

Hoseok grabbed both of them, smushing themselves together for a group hug, Y/N finally releasing a hearty laugh that startled Jimin awake beside her, knowing that the tears slipping down her cheeks were tears of happiness.

After a brutal Sunday of recovering from the tequila binge, Y/N spending most of the day laying on the couch and watching reality TV with greasy pizza, she was well again on Monday, the day of the investigation. She had to drag Jeongguk to work with her that day, Namjoon of course itching to go without complaint. It was nice to have the two of them with her while she stocked inventory, Namjoon able to reach higher shelves and Jeongguk sorting through the Christian medallions in a way that made sense. While those two were more quiet than, say, Hoseok, there was still amiable conversation here and there. Y/N had a feeling Jeongguk, in particular, was gearing up for later that evening, gazing out the shop window every once in a while to stare at the van.

“Our plan is solid. I’ll handle the cameras, Namjoon is on the audio recording devices, and Y/N, I’m going to give you the EMF detector and communication devices, since you’re adept with sensing energies,” Jeongguk assured her and Namjoon, the sun beginning to go down as the three of them brought equipment into the Sanders’ home.

The family had left for the hotel that morning, and would be staying there until Y/N and the two hybrids could successfully banish the entity. The house was cold, and eerily quiet, and Y/N was grateful that she had black tourmaline necklaces for the three of them as an added layer of protection. While she was somewhat anxious about the investigation, there was immense comfort in having Namjoon and Jeongguk with her. Namjoon was protective, which became clearer to her by the day, and Jeongguk was nearly fearless.

“How long do you think the investigation will last?” Y/N questioned, wondering if it would be anything like what she had seen on television.

“However long it takes for us to get enough evidence,” Jeongguk shrugged, on his knees and setting up a tripod facing the hallway, where Erika mentioned seeing a shadow figure several times.

“Good thing we brought the Red Bull,” Y/N joked, placing a few clear quartz crystals around the living room, Namjoon on the couch with her laptop booting up the software they’d need for audio recording and reviewing footage. “You’re gonna teach me how to use these devices, right, sweets?”

“Obviously,” Jeongguk snorted, attaching one of the cameras to the tripod. “It’s straightforward though, not many buttons to press. Then you can ask your questions you wrote down. Namjoon will be right beside you, recording audio.”

Jeongguk, dressed in all black, pushed up the sleeves of his sweater, revealing those tattoos that Y/N never fully got a good look at. While he was prickly about explaining everything to Y/N, he did it thoroughly, and it was interesting to watch the elk hybrid drop into total concentration on a particular task. Y/N decided to take a walk through the small house, not sensing much on the first floor other than that odd feeling of being watched through the living room window. It was when she climbed the stairs to the three bedrooms where there was a chill rolling down her spine.

The master bedroom, where Erika slept– and her son, too, when he had his nightmares, had a sadness, a tense anxious feel to it. Putting selenite on all of the window sills, she stopped when she saw a photo sitting on Erika’s nightstand. It was the young mother, looking vibrant and happy in comparison to how nervous she was when Y/N met her. The young boy, too, was grinning without purplish circles under his eyes. Most noticeably different was the daughter, Julie, who was a few years younger and not wearing the gothic garb she had during their initial consultation. Sighing, she hoped that the family could be at ease again once her and the boys helped them.

Moving down the hall, hands coming up to rub her shivering arms, she peeked into the boy’s bedroom, nearly choking at the heaviness of the energy in there. Y/N refused to go in there without one of her hybrids with her. Nauseous, she tentatively made her way to the final bedroom, Julie’s.

The room was painted pink, but most of the walls were covered in pop punk posters. As for the energy, it was different from the solid wall of darkness in Tommy’s room, but it still made her feel sick and again, like someone was watching her. Visually sweeping the room as Jeongguk suggested, looking for any occultish items such as a Ouija board, but not actively going through the teenager’s stuff.

She didn’t see anything out of the ordinary, but she stiffened when an ice-cold draft filled the room, penetrating her body in a way that had her skin crawling. Dread filled her, resentment, and anger. Panicking, turning every which way to see if she could spot something physically manifesting, the thump-thump-thump against the walls returning. Whimpering, she sped out of the room, chest heaving, thundering down the stairs and startling Jeongguk, who was placing special lights around in the hallway.

Y/N smacked directly into his chest, quaking, clinging to his sweater for dear life and desperate to get rid of that supernatural coldness that pierced through her. Jeongguk grunted, letting her hide from the world in his sweater, his heart hammering steadily beneath her.

“What the fuck happened, are you okay?” Jeongguk’s hands were hesitant when he patted her on the back, but there was a clear alarm in his voice.

Namjoon’s clumsy, heavy tread was immediately thudding down the hall with urgency, Y/N releasing Jeongguk with embarrassment. Her reaction to that phenomena wasn’t exactly a great start to their investigation, establishing zero dominance over the entity, but she still couldn’t stop shaking. While Jeongguk was alarmed, Namjoon was calm, hands on her shoulders so he could duck his head and make eye-contact.

“Take a few deep breaths, Y/N,” Namjoon’s eyebrows were pinched, squeezing her shoulders comfortingly. “That’s it.”

After a couple of lungfuls of air, she was able to stop shaking underneath Namjoon’s palms, the wolf hybrid letting her go as soon as she calmed down. Both of them were waiting expectantly for her to relay what had happened, and Y/N felt like the presence was at the top of the stairs and watching them.

“I think we should focus on the second floor,” Y/N said weakly, Namjoon’s orange honey eyes shifting from her face to the stairs, his blank expression giving nothing away. If anything, it was nice to have the both of them there, confident and collected. “Especially in the children’s bedrooms. I didn’t go into the boy’s bedroom, the energy was too thick and without one of you–” I was too scared. “Something manifested in the teenager’s room, like an ice-cold draft that ran right through me. Then the knocking on the walls started up again.”

Jeongguk leaned a hip against the banister, making intense eye-contact with Y/N, like he was attempting to soak in every word with grave seriousness. Sucking his lip ring into his mouth, making an animalistic grunt, and with a nod, he agreed.

“So our key spots. The kid’s bedrooms, the window in the living room, and this hallway,” Jeongguk confirmed. “I’ll go upstairs and set up more equipment. Now that you have more of an idea of what the energy feels like up there, you should write down some more questions to ask later. You’ll be alright, center yourself.”

“Okay,” Y/N agreed, hoping she wasn’t being the weakest link. “You’re going to go up by yourself?”

“Don’t worry about me,” Jeongguk had said that before, but him saying that did absolutely nothing to prevent her from worrying anyway. “Let’s just finish setting up, and we’ll start recording when it’s dark out.”

She followed Namjoon like a lost duckling back into the living room, Y/N sitting beside him on the couch while he continued to boot up his software. Taking a moment, she centered herself, eyes shut, focusing on breathing and her connection to the Earth.

“Remember why we’re here,” Namjoon said softly when she opened her eyes again, most of her fear and anxiety dissolving after centering.

“For the family,” Y/N finished for him, Namjoon giving her knee a soft squeeze, his bitten ear flickering.

“Do the lights really have to be off? Y/N doesn’t have night vision,” Namjoon asked a quarter after midnight, all of his audio equipment prepped and ready, including his tapes on the coffee table– their “base”.

“I mean, if you want to be able to see anything on these full-spectrum cameras,” Jeongguk replied, promptly switching off the last lamp that offered Y/N vision in the house. “You’re not afraid of the dark, are you kiddo?”

“If you have time to be an ass, you have time to get to work,” Y/N hissed, brushing by him with the device she had just learned how to use in her hand. That particular device, a “Spirit Box”, would fill the room with white noise, and somehow capture voices they couldn’t hear if the spirits responded to Y/N’s questions.

While she did that in front of a camera set up in front of the living room window, Jeongguk was using his handheld camcorder, taking temperatures around all of the spots in the house. Thankfully, Namjoon would stay with her, helping her make out any sounds or words they could potentially capture. Clearing her throat, she sat on the chair beneath the window, Namjoon just a few feet away on the couch, the low light of the laptop illuminating his face and making his eyes glow.

“I’m gonna take the temperatures upstairs,” Jeongguk’s voice was far away, probably already halfway to his destination, Y/N exhaling slowly as Namjoon gave her a thumbs-up; he had begun recording. She had already memorized her list of basic questions, so she switched the Spirit Box on, cringing at the gnashing sound echoing around the house.

“Is there anyone here that wishes to speak with us?” Y/N began, feeling a little foolish, but pushing down the feeling swiftly. All she heard in response was the white noise, unfortunately.

“What is your name?”

Nothing.

“How old are you?”

Nothing, again.

“Why are you here?”

Then, there was a disruption in the static, something garbly coming through, Y/N’s eyes lighting up as Namjoon began typing on the laptop.

“How many spirits are on this property? Are you alone?”

Growing a little excited, now understanding why Jeongguk was so into these devices, the static was interrupted once more, a frightening but unintelligible response captured through the Spirit Box.

“Who lives here?”

Before Y/N could get too riled up, the rest of her questions received no response, so she and Namjoon elected to move into the hall, trading places with Jeongguk, who was taking pictures of the window and using thermal imaging on the area.

It continued like that for about two more hours, repeating the interview with Namjoon multiple times with the Spirit Box and the EMF detector, the wolf hybrid letting her hold his hand when they were in Tommy’s room. The sounds of the voice that did come through in that space were particularly bone-chilling and grating. The last room, Julie’s room, only yielded one response that was reedy and low, Y/N ready to get the fuck out of dodge as soon as the interview concluded.

Reconvening downstairs, Jeongguk was starting to pack up equipment, and thankfully, he turned on a light or two. He looked charged, like new life was breathed into him. Investigations such as that one must have been his life’s passion, because Y/N hadn’t seen him like that, well, ever. Her and Namjoon were silent as they helped the elk hybrid gather everything up, and while Namjoon seemed calm, she could tell he was on edge due to some of the audio they captured together.

“Get anything?” Jeongguk pushed the last box of cameras into Namjoon’s van, Y/N wilting with exhaustion and nerves, watching her wolf hybrid lock the front door of the Sanders’ house with stiff shoulders, tape recorder under his arm. “We’ll review everything, but I’m pretty sure I captured some anomalies.”

“We had a few responses. Namjoon said he’d put the audio in a program music producers use to try and clarify what we were able to catch. There is definitely more than one entity we’re working with here,” Y/N ran a hand through her hair tiredly.

“Hmm, you’re right,” Jeongguk let her get into the van first, Y/N buckling herself into the passenger seat, thanking the sky she had the next day off. It was nearly five in the morning, and her eyes were crossing. “You did well, Y/N.”

“You too, sweets. You were in your element, huh?”

“I guess,” Jeongguk sobered up, toning down his excitement, Namjoon getting into the driver’s seat heavily, passing a hand over his face.

“Let’s get out of here, I’m drained,” Namjoon pulled out of the driveway, Y/N’s teeth unclenching when he switched on some folksy music and they got away from the house.

“You two are going to need to take some baths when we get back, right away. With that salt I gave you, I don’t want the risk of anything clinging to us,” Y/N leaned her head back, hearing Jeongguk still tinkering away with an electronic in the back of the van.

Namjoon hummed, too tired to respond, but she knew he’d listen to her. Once she explained the importance of making sure they were all properly spiritually cleansed, he hadn’t had a single complaint obeying her requests to take salt baths or enduring Y/N waving rosemary smoke around him. Jeongguk, on the other hand, was a toss up.

All Y/N knew was that she wasn’t exactly eager to find out what the entities were saying to her. Judging by the nastiness of some of the voices they captured, she doubted it was anything friendly. Namjoon said he’d take care of the audio over the course of the week, and Jeongguk was going to comb through his videos, data, and photos as well. All Y/N had to do was sit with the energies she felt and perhaps come up with some kind of plan for cleansings and banishment. Trying to find the moon in the sky, Y/N counted street lights until they were back at their own home, and there was a collective breath of relief from the three of them when they were safe inside.

Before she knew it, it was the end of the week, the day she and Seokjin planned their date. Y/N had come up with something special to do with him during the evening, and she knew they weren’t going to be bothered, she made sure of it. With Namjoon and Jeongguk holed up in the van poring over their evidence still; Taehyung, Yoongi, and Hoseok at the rec center for their clubs, and Jimin outside putting the garden beds together on the finally-thawing ground, they were pretty much by themselves. She was in Seokjin’s bedroom, the lamps dimmed low, and her jaguar hybrid was somewhere in the kitchen, claiming he was making something for them to snack on. Y/N didn’t tell Seokjin what her plan was for them, wanting a nice surprise, so as quickly as she could, she dumped the materials she needed on his neatly made bed.

There was an old white topsheet she found in the depths of one of the linen closets, Y/N shaking it out and tying it to tops of the front two bedposts. The fabric fell, making a large “screen” at the foot of the bed, and with that done in a pinch, she hooked up the mini projector she got on Amazon and stuck it on the shelf behind Seokjin’s headboard.

A cozy, quiet movie night was something she thought Seokjin would enjoy. Meaning to watch Lord of the Rings with him, she had the boxed CD set ready to go, even if they’d probably only get through one of the movies due to the length. Satisfied, she sped into his bathroom, changing into her pajamas– a pair of cotton shorts and a matching tank top. It was likely she’d end up sleeping next to Seokjin that night, so she decided she might as well get comfortable. She was tossing her clothes in his hamper when the sounds of the jaguar hybrid shuffling into his bedroom filled her ears, Y/N smiling at her reflection in his mirror and going out to meet him.

Seokjin, with a curious flicker to his ear, was staring at the sheet she hung, setting a tray down with various snacks and drinks, and of course, a few slabs of the bread he baked that morning. Skipping to his side, Seokjin whirled around, cheeks coloring with how little clothing she was wearing. Seokjin wasn’t a fan of the cold, so his room was always boiling with space heaters going, so she wasn’t about to wear flannel pajamas.

“Pretty, why’d you tie that sheet there?” Seokjin cleared his throat, adjusting his thin tee-shirt by the collar, averting his eyes.

“So we could watch a movie together, I got a projector online. Do you like the sound of that?” Y/N asked, a touch self consciously, sitting on his bed and looking at the tray he brought up. With a pounding heart, she realized most of the snacks he prepared were her favorites.

“Yeah, it’s perfect,” Seokjin insisted, knees landing on the bed softly, fluffing his pillows and moving the stuffed alpaca aside so he could sit against the headboard. “What do you wanna watch?”

“Well, all those months ago, I mentioned wanting to watch Lord of the Rings with you. How about that?”

Seokjin, his bright eyes widening, replayed the memory in his head– when he was recovering from his fever, the day Y/N adopted him, she had lent him that book. He was nodding at once, watching Y/N grin and get on all fours, sliding a disc into the projector, adjusting the volume. He didn’t know if she felt how charged the air felt, tucking her hair behind her ear as she navigated the movie’s menu, his eyes skimming over her figure indulgently. The beginning credits began to roll, the projector displaying the title card of the film pretty well, Seokjin realizing that was why Y/N had dimmed the lights so low.

Y/N got comfortable beside Seokjin at once, curling into his side and tucking herself under his arm, one of hers thrown across his waist. Reminded of a kitten getting cozy in her bed, Seokjin purred, fingertips dancing along her upper arm, the skin like warm silk.

“I… never asked you this, but when I gave you this book, you seemed emotional. Can I ask you why, honey?” Y/N was thoroughly enjoying Seokjin stroking her arm with reverence, his chin resting on top of her head.

“Oh, I suppose that was kind of odd to you at the time,” Seokjin replied, focusing more on her than the movie in the background. Movies never really compared to books, anyways. “It’s just something that I remember… a young kid I grew up with telling me about. You know I’m not a big adventurer, but reading about it, seeing it, I’m comfortable with. Nostalgia sometimes gets to me, that’s all.”

“That’s why you’re so sweet,” Y/N hummed, her breath fanning over his neck, Seokjin giggling at her words. “I felt so bad that day, I didn’t wanna make you cry.”

“You didn’t, you just reminded me that sometimes the world is smaller than I think it is,” Seokjin’s touch migrated to her shoulders, lowly hissing at the tightness in the muscles, Y/N wincing when he pressed over them. “Come here.”

Seokjin cupped her waist, spreading his legs carefully, before rolling her over so she was seated between his thighs, back pressed to his chest. Y/N went stiff, the opposite of what he was trying to do, so he gave her a reassuring, chaste kiss to the crown of her head, pressing his thumbs into the tender sides of her neck. Shuddering when Seokjin dug the digits into two knots that have been giving her grief the entire week, she went limp immediately, not knowing where to put her own hands– settling them idly on her lap.

“You’re tense, let me help you,” Seokjin murmured, Y/N surrounded by his eucalyptus scent, and having him care for her was better than any spa treatment. “You’ve been working too hard, pretty.”

“Uh-uh,” Y/N protested, melting backwards, the sturdiness of his chest actually quite surprising. “Not true– oh.”

Seokjin hit a particularly tender spot, her tight trapezius muscle, and he was seemingly chuckling as he massaged the flesh sensually. He didn’t make a smart retort, even though he could have, but instead he focused on working out every single kink in her neck.

“How did you get so good at this?” Y/N was choking back moans, at that point, barely paying attention to the movie, her temperature rising in the toasty bedroom.

“Well, when I was a performer, I’d have to tend to my own knots and strains,” Seokjin responded, sweeping her hair aside so he could press on either side of her upper spine, Y/N involuntarily arching away from him with a strained whine– one that had heat rising to his cheeks, shamefully. “Guess the skill is finally coming in handy.”

“Seokjin,” Y/N breathed, and the jaguar hybrid thought he heard a slight edge of warning to it, like she was accusing him of being cheeky. After so long, he couldn’t help it.

A few moments went by mostly in silence– apart from the movie’s dialogue and score, and a tiny yelp from Y/N once or twice. Seokjin, even though he couldn’t stand feeling cold, was truthfully getting warm himself, Y/N so pliant in front of him, her hands subconsciously finding purchase on his knees as he worked her back.

“B-baby, I think I’m g-good, uh–” Y/N’s breathing became labored, heat striking through her as he continued the massage under her shoulder blades. “Oh fuck.”

Apparently a very sore spot, Seokjin dug his fingers into her skin with more intensity, and embarrassingly so, Y/N let out a thin, pleading whine, Seokjin’s spine going rigid at the sound.

“Does it feel good?” Seokjin asked, his voice becoming siren-like again, moving to the other shoulder blade and eliciting a similar sound from her.

“W-what do you think?” Y/N was out of oxygen, two seconds away from pinning him to the headboard, Seokjin’s laughter rumbly and deep. “I don’t know if I want you to stop or to–”

Y/N was shamefully turned on at that point. It was hard not to be, she thought, between his proximity and his hands working her into a boneless puddle. Still chuckling, Seokjin removed one of his hands, reaching for the tray on the bed, plucking a strawberry from the bowl and offering it to Y/N, fingers poised before her lips.

Instead of eating it, Y/N looked over her shoulder, face flushed and pupils blown out, an accusatory expression lighting up her features.

“You didn’t mention you’re some sort of Casanova,” Y/N mumbled, overwhelmed by that romantic side of her jaguar hybrid, his ears fluttering playfully. Instead of feeding her, Seokjin ate the strawberry himself, the cool juices of the fruit spilling over his chin and down his neck, Y/N’s sight zeroing in on that visual. “Jesus Christ.”

“What’s wrong?” Seokjin teased once he swallowed the fruit, forcibly turning her back around so he could continue the massage, Y/N freezing when he not only laid his palms on her shoulders again, but his lips pressed a kiss to the top of her spine tenderly, his lips soothing her feverish flesh from the cold fruit he ate.

“Are you aware of how gorgeous you are, Seokjin? It’s borderline disturbingly wrong,” Y/N grouched, squeezing his knees, Seokjin freezing behind her before cracking up into hysterics, arms winding around her middle tightly, sponging kisses along her shoulders in between laughter. “You’re literally a doll!”

Despite his laughter, Y/N could feel his heart speeding up with her words, chest still flush with her back, and she debated whether or not to shut the movie off and just straddle him at that point. Suddenly aware that her panties were starting to get a bit damp, Y/N cursed herself inwardly, not believing how little it took to turn her on. She wondered if the jaguar hybrid could smell it, his sleek black tail laying heavily on one of her bare thighs. Boldly, while Seokjin kneaded her flesh again, she traced her fingers over the silky fur of his tail out of curiosity, Seokjin whimpering behind her, movements freezing.

The atmosphere shifted instantly. She hadn’t gone as far as to touch Yoongi’s tail yet, but with Seokjin’s right in front of her, it was hard to resist stroking through the fur. In consequence, Seokjin’s fingers danced over the straps of her tank top, running his index fingers along the lace.

“Can I… move these just a bit?” Seokjin fiddled with the material, Y/N nodding straight away, hurrying up the process by sliding one of the straps around her bicep, eager for him to tend to her aching shoulders, craving his touch. With a soft intake of air, Seokjin copied her movements on the other side, one hand gliding over the entirety of her exposed upper back, seemingly feeling for more points of tension.

Still stroking through the fur of his tail, her other hand gripping his quilt with pale knuckles, Y/N bit down on her lip when Seokjin rolled his knuckles against her tender skin. Betting every last dollar in her bank account that neither of them gave a single shit what was happening in the movie still playing in front of them, Seokjin used one hand to grab the tray of food on the bed and move it to one of his nightstands distractedly, bending his knees so his feet were flat against the quilt and he could better cage Y/N in.

However, with Seokjin’s movements, Y/N scooching up on the bed to press closer to him, her tank top straps fell to the crooks of her elbows, her eyes shooting wide open as the garment bunched around her waist– and she was not wearing a bra in that moment.

There was a pause, Seokjin’s broad body crooking over hers from behind, where nothing was audible but sounds from the movie. Seokjin was staring at the entirety of her bare back, also realizing she wasn’t wearing anything under her tank top, but he was unable to help himself by gliding his hands from the small of her waist up to her mid-back. The action was smooth, Y/N’s skin somewhat slick with perspiration, Seokjin’s mouth watering. He always considered himself a man of patience, but there was something primal brewing within him, something that was difficult to control.

“Y/N,” Seokjin’s voice was but a breeze in the wind, experimentally digging his fingertips into the base of her spine, relishing in the thready moan she offered to him, one of her forearms pressed over her breasts to preserve her modesty– Seokjin could smell both her arousal and bashfulness filling up the room thickly. “Are you alright?’”

“Keep touching me,” was all Y/N responded with, leaning backwards and removing her arm from her chest, Seokjin focusing straight ahead at the movie blindly.

“How so, pretty girl?” Seokjin groaned, wrecked, his nose tucked into the base of her throat, not moving until she vocalized.

“All over, anywhere,” Y/N whimpered, gasping when Seokjin’s hands snaked around her middle, skimming over her tummy, the jaguar hybrid’s resolve finally dissolving, his lips latching around the junction of her neck and shoulder. “Honey…”

Sucking her flesh into his mouth sensually, Seokjin felt blood rushing to his crotch, the taste of her skin so addicting, he swore he was high. It was the taste of her, yes, that was causing him to descend into a lust-driven frenzy, but also the scent of her love, the scent of her arousal, that was egging him on. Still, the human side of his brain begged him to see through the fog.

“You’re sure?”

“Fuck, yes, Jin, please,” Y/N had annoyance dripping in her tone, one of her palms covering his on her abdomen, guiding it up to her sternum. “Love you, and I want you.”

A switch flipped within Seokjin, one he didn’t know existed, and he stroked the naked sides of her waist with hunger, resuming his task of decorating the slope of her neck with love bites, a strangled noise leaving his throat when Y/N shifted her hips backwards; flush to his.

He was reminded of the previous weekend, Y/N in that dress, grinding into him with carefree abandon– and how he needed to excuse himself to the bathroom before they left to stick his face under the icy tap. He felt perverted, out of control– but a distant, animalistic side of him was saying “she’s the one, the only one” which was enough for him to want to stake his claim.

Seokjin grasped the material of her tank top pooling around her waist, pulling it over her head with care. Once Y/N was free, she keened at the feeling of Seokjin suckling a bruise beneath her earlobe, his hardness pressing up against her ass, the sensation drenching her underwear thoroughly and anticipation climbing to Everest.

Silently, Seokjin nipped the shell of her ear with his sharpened teeth, and before Y/N could fully process that, he was cradling her chest, the weight of her tits in his palms having him groaning and pressing his hips against her ass even more firmly. He had never been so turned on in his life, Y/N totally caged in his embrace, wanting and receptive to everything he had to offer her. This, this, was everything he was waiting to feel his entire life, and he could hardly think straight– Y/N semi-consciously whacking the projector, muting the movie miraculously in favor of hearing the noises Seokjin could make.

Seokjin, caught in a spell, hooked his chin over Y/N’s shoulder, not caring that his back was aching from the prolonged arch, her breasts still cupped in his hands. Experimentally, he pressed them together, finally peering at her exposed chest, his throat rather dry at the sight as he soaked in both her heaving into his grasp, and the marks he had left on the side of her throat and shoulder. Skin lighting up with heat, one of her hands flailed backwards, clawing at Seokjin’s hip– now aware that he was very much completely clothed, all Y/N wanted was his bare skin against hers.

“Easy, kitten,” Seokjin ground out, her fingernails cutting into his flesh even through the material of his sweatpants, Y/N hardly recognizing his hypnotic voice as it reached her ears centimeters away, and what he called her having her lax in his grip like prey.

Her tits still in his palms, lips heavy on her neck, Y/N was about to melt into his mattress completely– breath stolen from her lungs when the jaguar hybrid teasingly swiped his thumbs over her nipples, erect with all of the slow teasing, the sensation sharp and having her jolt in the cage– made out of his limbs– he had trapped her in.

“Tease,” Y/N managed due to the way his forefinger and thumb tweaked the buds, Y/N nearly passing out as he promptly slicked up the fingers of his right hand by sticking them in his mouth. “Jin–”

“Shush,” Seokjin returned, using his dampened digits to roll her right nipple between them, completely entranced. At that point, he felt himself leaking somewhat into his boxers, toying with Y/N’s chest until she was a mess in his lap, peering over her shoulder to see how her body reacted to his touch. “If you let me, I’ll make you feel good. But I want you to listen to me, is that okay?”

Y/N nodded desperately, but it wasn’t enough of a confirmation for Seokjin.

“Mmm-hmm! Yes, Seokjin, I-I– hnngh,” Y/N yelped when he kneaded the sensitive flesh of her breasts again.

“Okay then, lean on me,” Seokjin sucked yet another bruise into the side of Y/N’s throat, enjoying working her up. “You– mmph–”

Y/N had turned her head, seeking out his mouth, eagerly slotting her lips against his with desperation. His arms automatically wrapped around her again, one forearm slung low on her writhing hips, the other barred across her chest, letting her kiss him with abandon. She had wanted to kiss him like that for weeks, swiping her tongue along the seam of his mouth, Seokjin’s lips parting slightly and granting her access. A deep, indulgent moan came from her as she tasted him, sweet like the strawberry he just ate, still clawing at his clothed hips when her tongue slid against his. In return, Seokjin hummed, kissing her back just as freely, letting her take control for a moment. Though, while she was distracted, Seokjin began to fiddle with the waistband of her pajama shorts, a grunt tearing through him when she jerked her hips backwards.

Breaking away from their kiss, Seokjin was transfixed, Y/N attempting to keep her control by going for his neck, even though the twisted position of her body was uncomfortable. Lapping at the sticky trail of strawberry juice along his Adam's apple, Seokjin shuddered at the feeling, her teeth scraping against his throat before she sunk them in, which had his eyes rolling back into his skull.

Taking matters into her own hands, Y/N managed to wiggle out of her shorts, a hand breaking away from Seokjin’s hips, tossing them carelessly off the bed. The jaguar hybrid, sounding utterly fucked out already, tipped his head back and moaned when her ass collided with his lap again. At that point, with the scent of her wetness becoming so concentrated, Seokjin snapped, growling, dangerously, Y/N blinking up at him at once.

“Face forward and watch the movie, pretty,” Seokjin ordered, Y/N’s head spinning. If he didn’t want to continue, that was fine, but she was pretty much naked and she wasn’t about to watch Hobbits traipse through the mud like that. However, that wasn’t the case, Seokjin hooking his chin over her kiss-bitten shoulder, fingertips dipping into the waistband of her panties. “Oh. Did you wear these for me?”

Looking down, confused and still driven crazy by lust, Y/N’s mouth dropped open. Subconsciously, she must have picked out the pink pair of panties Seokjin was teasing her with when they were folding laundry, the gusset of the fabric completely soaked. Lolling her head back against his chest, she looked at him pleadingly, the feeling of him tracing her hip bones driving her insane.

“Aw, poor thing,” Seokjin cooed, kissing her temple with a derisive smirk. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you.”

With that, Seokjin stripped her of her panties in a flash, stuffing the garment into the pocket of his sweatpants, Y/N mewling, turned on by the fact that she was completely bare before him, and he hadn’t shed a single article of clothing. Without wasting too much time, his mouth on her neck again, Seokjin grabbed a hold onto her thighs and propped them up, his breath quickening at the fresh wave of her arousal that surrounded him. Again, Y/N grappled for his tail, just about the only thing she could do wrapped up in his arms like that, cunt clenching around nothing when he moaned hollowly, the appendage curling around her wrist.

Finally, Seokjin ghosted his fingers over where she needed him most, cursing at the wetness that gathered there abundantly, Y/N’s hips bucking over his lap with a cry. Cunt pulsing with his touch, Seokjin bit his lip, parting her dewy folds, the slick sound making Y/N cringe. He didn’t want to tease her too much, she was practically dripping onto his quilt, free hand coming up to pinch a nipple as his index finger made a slow circle around her clit simultaneously.

The action elicited a great reward. Y/N’s spine arched, crying out his name, more wetness gushing out of her. Cooing again, Seokjin kept circling the sweet spot, loving the sounds she made for him, hardly noticing she was scraping her nails against his sensitive tail.

“So wet, kitten,” Seokjin purred, slowly working her up, Y/N’s gut tightening at his dulcet tone, hardly here nor there.

“Feels so good,” Y/N thrashed, stomach flipping over when the movement had his cock pressed right against the seam of her ass. “Ah!”

Seokjin groaned, ignoring his own pleasure in favor of finding her’s, testing the waters by teasing a fingertip around her fluttering entrance. Hearing her pleas, he sunk the digit into her, whimpering at the way she clamped down on him. Y/N rocked her hips, essentially riding his finger, the visual erotic and making him hiss darkly.

“That’s it, pretty girl,” Seokjin encouraged, gripping the side of her waist to aid her desperate movements. “Use me.”

Helping her out, he began to snap his wrist against her, curling his finger and pressing against the front of her walls, Y/N swore she could have died, so crammed full of desire for the jaguar hybrid it was driving her insane.

“M-more, please,” Y/N begged, grinding against his hand, leaking all over him.

“Spoiled little girl,” Seokjin taunted, but despite the jab, he added another digit into the mix while she rode his fingers, his thumb toying with her clit as she felt herself barreling towards her orgasm. “Gonna need to stretch you out, anyways, kitten.”

Gasping, his dirty words was all she needed, her sudden orgasm taking Seokjin by surprise as she wailed in his arms, walls spasming around his fingers as he continued to fuck them into her. The lewd sounds of her wetness had his ears ringing, wanting to taste the mess she made, but he murmured sweet nothings in her ear as she tore through her orgasm instead.

Y/N, panting, grasped his wrist to halt his movements, oversensitive but somehow still needy for him, Seokjin releasing his hold on her and allowing her to turn, climbing over his lap to straddle him with a ravenous look on her face. Seokjin simply stared back, smirking, bringing his slicked-up fingers to his mouth, dutifully cleaning them off and trying not to cum in his pants at the taste of her. To his surprise, a startled moan leaving his lips, Y/N rocked her hips over the hardness beneath his sweatpants, her hands tangled in his shirt.

“Uh, oh, still need more?” Seokjin teased, hands landing on her ass and kneading the flesh, helping her grind against him. “You really are spoiled, aren’t you?”

Y/N had no response but to kiss him, whimpering when his tongue tangled with hers, Y/N sensing that he was slowly beginning to unravel. She wanted nothing more than for him to lose his patience and fuck her senseless, feeling her pussy throbbing over the bulge in his pants. She broke away to mouth down his neck, and when she felt him shiver when she grazed over a particular spot, she sucked a bruise into the flesh, Seokjin’s hips grinding up harshly into her heat.

“Take this off,” Y/N whined, yanking at his flimsy tee shirt, fed up with being the only one naked. Seokjin obliged, letting her strip the article off of him while they continued to rub against one another, sweat dripping from his hairline. “God, you’re so fucking sexy…”

Y/N gaped at the sight in front of her, not expecting Seokjin to be… well, ripped. She had seen his chest before, when she mended the wound on his side, but she was hardly gawking at his solid abs when she was doing so. Hands instantly shooting out to glide along his skin, his muscles rippling under her touch, the jaguar hybrid was panting while she gyrated her hips on his cock.

“No, you,” Seokjin managed, smiling at her despite the situation they were in, Y/N kissing over his prominent clavicles tenderly. “Fuck, pretty girl!”

Y/N moved off of his hips, gawking at the wet patch she left over his gray sweatpants with distant humiliation, making brief eye-contact to ask if she could divest the garment from him. He nodded eagerly, so wound up he could think of nothing else but the scent of her, the love in her eyes, and how perfect she was. In one smooth motion, she shucked both his pants and boxers from his body, her eyes going comically wide at what she saw.

Not only was Seokjin the sweetest man alive, gorgeous, and ripped– he had the biggest dick she ever saw in her life. Truly, he was blessed in all areas, Y/N speechless as she stared at the intimidating length and girth, suddenly understanding why he mentioned needing to stretch him out.

“Seokjin, you’re huge,” Y/N, again, was clenching around nothing, looking up at him with awe. Seokjin had blush in his cheeks that wasn’t due to his arousal and the temperature of the room, Y/N realizing he was bashful. “I– you want my mouth, my–”

“Come here,” Seokjin cut her off, regaining his ability to take control, hooking her around her waist. “I want you to sit on my cock.”

Stunned, Y/N felt her wetness roll down her thighs, and fuck, she was going to need it. She had no objection to that request, maintaining their eye contact as she reached down, grasping his cock, the jaguar hybrid’s ears flattening against his skull as her thumb smeared precum around his tip. Having mercy on him, and neediness taking over her again, she ran him through her folds, dripping over him, whimpering brokenly when he caught on her entrance. Would he even fit?

“You can take it,” Seokjin read her mind, tucking hair behind her ear and kissing beneath her jaw, the words making heat strike through her. “Go slow.”

Swallowing thickly, she lined him up, exhaling shakily as she sunk down, and despite how turned on she was and the sheer wetness spilling from her, the stretch was enough to knock the wind out of her. Taking over, guiding her by her waist, Seokjin grit his teeth as she took him inch by inch, her chest heaving. It was a tight fit, enough to have Seokjin seeing stars, Y/N’s thighs shaking on either side of him. He was telling her to breathe when she was fully seated in his lap, cock throbbing inside of her as she adjusted to his size, kissing over her face soothingly.

“Move when you’re ready kitten, okay?” Seokjin himself was a bit starved for oxygen, Y/N cupping his face and pressing a kiss on his lower lip, tongue flicking over the flesh.

Regaining her ability to function, eyes going round when she looked down– she pressed a hand over her lower abdomen, the slightest bump there, the action having Seokjin hissing. Darkness was in his eyes when her walls fluttered around him, and with that, Y/N gave an experimental roll of her hips, both of them moaning in tandem as he slid out an inch.

“F-fuck, Jin,” Y/N whined, getting a hold on his broad shoulders to ride him properly, lifting herself up only to drop back down harshly, feeling like he was spearing into her guts.

Entirely overwhelmed, Seokjin leaned forward, wrapping his lips around one of her nipples while she fucked herself on his cock, happy to let her chase her pleasure, to provide it. Y/N’s head was thrown back, entirely gone, Seokjin’s name leaving her lips like a prayer when he stroked a thumb over her clit, bracing her hands on his knees again to switch up the angle, one that gave Seokjin quite a show and had his cock rubbing against her G-spot deliciously.

“Look at you,” Seokjin awed, his hips beginning to buck up to meet her strokes, taking his cock like a saint. “Fuck. So pretty, so perfect.”

With Seokjin fucking into her like that, his steady circles over her clit, she was gone again with a slam and grind onto his lap, an elastic band snapping within her as she stilled, collapsed against Seokjin’s chest as she felt herself gush.

“Holy fucking hell,” Seokjin groaned, his lap soaked, Y/N’s pussy clamping down so hard on him his vision was turning white.

Y/N couldn’t move anymore, throat strained from her cries, convulsing against her. The world was turning as she caught her breath, somehow still aroused, and she found herself on her back, Seokjin sucking a deep bruise into her neck. Still nestled inside of her, throbbing, Y/N wound her arms around the jaguar hybrid, hands sliding into his hair.

“Fuck me,” Y/N breathed against his lips, and that was all Seokjin needed to release that last scrap of control he had over himself.

Snapping his hips forward, Y/N’s cunt swollen and sensitive, she wailed, feeling him in her throat. The new position was intimate, Seokjin pretty much laying most of his body weight on top of her, murmuring things in her ear that she could only make out bits and pieces of.

“Gonna cum soon,” he groaned, driving into her, Y/N sinking her teeth into his shoulder.

“Cum inside me,” she requested, the discussion about her IUD already out of the way days ago. “P-please.”

“Oh yeah? You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Seokjin teased, though the request had the predator in him coming alive. “Want me to stuff you full so you can have my cubs?”

Shock flooded through Y/N at that question, not expecting Seokjin to be like that, and shamefully she felt herself clenching around him again. Seokjin must have felt it, because he grunted, hips stuttering.

“You’d look so beautiful,” Seokjin sighed, Y/N’s eyes rolling back, sliding her fingers over his silky ears. “Fuck, I love you, my pretty girl, my love, gonna give it to you–”

With a final thrust, Seokjin went still, kissing Y/N harshly, heat filling her as he spilled into her cunt, the jaguar hybrid whimpering. Miraculously, the sensation of him cumming so deeply inside of her had a smaller, less intense orgasm shuddering through her, leaving her utterly spent and exhausted. Seokjin himself was breathing like he ran a marathon, Y/N holding him weakly as he pulled himself together.

“You’re insane,” Y/N accused once she caught her breath, covered in sweat, saliva, and cum, her poor pussy battered and sensitive. “I won’t be able to walk for three days.”

Seokjin giggled, actually giggled, after how devilish he had just behaved, placing an apologetic kiss on her jaw.

“Was I too rough?” Seokjin became serious, worry etched in his eyebrows.

“No, you were perfect,” Y/N insisted, cupping the side of his face. “I love you, honey.”

Hiding his face in her neck, he returned the sentiment, both of them content to sit in their mess for a few minutes to hold each other, Seokjin’s tail curling behind him languidly.

“We watched about five minutes of that movie,” Y/N commented, twirling a lock of his wavy hair around a finger with a snort. “That was a hell of a first date!”

“There’s always next time,” Seokjin replied, finally rolling off of her, Y/N wincing at what they had to clean up. “I’m gonna get some things to clean you up, can you have a few sips of that water for me, pretty?”

Y/N, bonelessly, reached for the forgotten snack platter, greedily gulping the water down her scraped-up throat, watching Seokjin walk to his dresser. With a secret smile, she stared at his ass, munching on a strawberry. He only took a few minutes to gather his items: a few damp cloths, two pairs of his pajamas, and a fresh quilt to replace the one that had unspeakable fluids all over it.

Lovingly, Seokjin cleaned her up, cooing when she winced at the sensitivity between her legs, doing the same to himself and dressing the two of them in his soft pajamas. Y/N only had to stand for a few seconds while he changed the quilt, pulling it back so they could get in.

They ended up in the same position they were originally in, Y/N curled into his side, Y/N turning the projector off of mute in an attempt to pick up wherever the movie was, her eyes catching on something sitting on one of the pillows.

“Oh my god. The alpaca watched us fuck!” Y/N exclaimed, pointing at the plushie, making Seokjin’s squeaky laugh fill the room, Y/N smacking him lightly on his chest. “Why do we keep scandalizing the innocents?”

“Our cross to bear,” Seokjin shrugged, brushing his lips over one of the love bites he left behind.

Holding her close, they chatted about the movie, ate some snacks, and after about an hour, fell asleep intertwined– the projector still rolling on, and rain falling gently outside.

“I think I’ve figured out the audio,” Namjoon invited Y/N into his room days later, once she untangled herself from Seokjin in the morning and completely rinsed their sins off of her body. “Everything we captured last week.”

Namjoon’s expression was worrying her, his eyebrows pinched, sitting at his desk and chin in his hand. He had been slaving over a digital audio workstation all week, hardly making it to mealtimes, Y/N even hearing him pacing around his room late at night.

“Is it bad?”

Namjoon gave her a look, one that said everything she needed to know, leaning against his desk.

“Did Jeongguk listen?”

“He listened this morning,” Namjoon said carefully, Y/N wondering why he wasn’t present. “Due to what we ended up capturing, he went upstairs to consult his old journal. I haven’t seen him since.”

“Let’s hear it, then,” Y/N bit her lip nervously, not liking his clear reluctance. With a sigh, he pressed on the space bar.

“What is your name?”

Static.

“How old are you?”

More static.

“Why are you here?”

Listening to her recorded voice had her cringing, but finally, there was a response to the third question.

“Watching.” The voice was creepy, low, and made her queasy, but what was said had her skin crawling.

“How many spirits are on this property? Are you alone?”

“Many are here.”

Y/N glanced at Namjoon, a little confused. Sure, the responses made her uneasy, but they weren’t so bad to warrant how hesitant he looked.

“Okay, creepy, but expected, right?” She asked, nudging him with her foot.

“There’s more. I didn’t want to show you, but Jeongguk insisted,” Namjoon said flatly, expression darkening. “Actually, I don’t think you, specifically, should even go back to that house.”

“What? Namjoon, you’re freaking me out. Just show me,” Y/N blinked, Namjoon scrolling on the workstation to a highlighted section.

“This is when we were in Julie’s room,” Namjoon murmured, pressing play.

“Why are you here?” Y/N’s voice came through the speakers, Y/N recalling they only got one response in that room.

“To kill you, whorish witch.”

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randombush3 · 7 months

Text

labor omnia vincit

alexia putellas x reader

words: 7538

summary: well, it’s how you meet your wife (posh + becks style)

content warnings: a little bit of drugs and alcohol

notes: HEY HEY HEYY. this is a TRILOGY and here’s the first part. enjoy the build up x

2015. London.

You groan at the thought of singing another word. The mug set haphazardly on the ledge reserved more for instruments than crockery, half in the air after the last time you returned it to its place, is now empty. There is no hot water left to soothe your burning throat, and there is no patience remaining in your finite store.

The girls, on the other hand, seem to soldier on. A harmony is incorrect? They sing it again. The producer, a fat old man called Dave whose taste in music might rely on his taste in women, isn’t a fan of a certain beat? They are thinking of ways to change it.

Ever since your single was released two years ago, this has been your life. Or, at least, the less glamorous side of it. The other side, consisting of sold-out arenas, exclusive clubs, and a world tour that only increased your total domination over the music industry, has been paused while you and the girls slave away on the second album. Apparently, you’re being uncooperative. You would call it boredom.

“It’s four in the morning, Dave,” Anya states, jabbing out her index finger towards his Rolex, paid for with the revenue from the last single you released. It topped the charts for days. Dave glances down at the clock face with a grunt. “Look, Y/n’s already left us and gone to bed.”

“Still here,” you murmur, rather unconvincingly, from your spot on the far-too-comfortable sofa behind the mixing desk. Sprawling out even further, you wrap your legs around the third member of your group, Gio. She squeals as you pull her on top of you. “I want to go home, though.”

“Don’t we all know it,” Gio giggles. She’s had at least six cups of coffee since you arrived at the studio for the second recording session of the day – a solid nine hours ago. That was only after a break for a late lunch or early dinner (whichever your dietician preferred to call it).

“We need to finish.”

“I need to sleep,” you reply. Gio scrambles off you in time to avoid the glare you are sent by your producer. “And I’m not sleeping here again. Last time it gave me a crick in my neck and I’m fairly sure the cleaner felt me up.”

“The sexy cleaner is mine,” Anya declares, jerking you upright. Your stomach lurches with emptiness. “Otherwise, I agree. Let us fuck off home. Please, Dave.”

He looks at the three of you, bags under your eyes, making long rubbed off (or cried away, in Gio’s earlier over-emotional state). You have changed out of the outfit the paparazzi pictured you in earlier, opting for the stained, grey joggers you folded away in your Birkin. Anya and Gio snuck in so that they weren’t caught in their pyjamas.

Dave sighs.

“Tomorrow, don’t go for lunch with any of your silly boyfriends. Come here for noon, and we’ll finish when we finish. We’re getting this album done, and you can’t fire me until it’s out.”

His sense of humour is appreciated, even if his work ethic is not, and you practically bolt out of the studio, friends in tow.

Anya grabs your hand as you rush down the corridor, making your way to the exit. “No lunch with your boyfriend,” she repeats Dave’s words, mocking his gristly voice. You roll your eyes, snatching your hand away from your friend before pushing open the back door of the studio, heading towards your new BMW i8.

You have been friends with Anya Kazi and Giovanna Bartoli since the age of two, meeting them on the first day of nursery, specifically after cutting one of Gio’s ringlets off with safety scissors. Though Anya happily clapped along, she did not defend you, and so you went for her hair as well. Your teacher, hoping to quell the budding animosity, placed all three of you in time-out, where a united front was formed. It hasn’t been broken since that moment, though a few years ago, you were terrified it would be. You, with a well-concealed preference for women, however, have managed to keep your friends. They assured you that they 1) already knew and 2) could not care less.

“You don’t even like cars,” Gio scoffs at the sight of your latest purchase, your last name printed proudly on the number plate. “Was this an ‘I’m famous’ buy or did your daddy get it for you?”

“He emailed me a few recommendations,” you answer off-handedly, sliding into the driver’s seat, switching on the ignition. It growls with a mean, menacing precision, the engine’s quality known and heard. “And don’t pretend that your family doesn’t have a Roll-Royce parked in the driveway of their million-pound townhouse.”

“You are just as much from Hampstead as I am, girl.”

You roll your eyes, stifling a yawn. Anya pulls out in front of you, no doubt speeding off to avoid the boy-racers you and Gio become at this time of night.

Your flat has progressed from that of the one you shared with the girls in Princess Park two years ago. It’s nicely decorated, you like to think, with most of the work being done to it while you were touring.

The walls are hung with artwork; some your own, some not. The canvases and frames adorn every room, dictating the vibe, declaring your individuality to any visitors who choose to admire the paintings and sketches. Then, if they were to look at the shelves dotted around the space, they’d see books with matching themes to the art. Your living room has a print of Van Gogh’s ‘Starry Night’, blown up in a gilded frame, hanging above your green leather sofa, adding colour to the white walls, and then a bookshelf filled with navy-bound novels about whatever you fancy. You’re quite chuffed with the design, though it was really the interior designer you hired who came up with the idea.

Without a second glance to any of the intricate details of your home, you stumble your way to the bathroom, going through the motions until it is time to get into bed. It’s a big bed – one that often feels too big for just one person – but the mattress is inviting and you dive into a deep sleep head-first, knowing you will not be getting up until someone calls you tomorrow morning.

…

Barcelona, seven hours earlier.

The bar is busy, as most are in Barcelona at this time of night, and the girls are out for dinner and a post-training drink. The wine glasses have deceived them all, though, because they have been emptied and refilled a few more times than Xavi would be impressed with.

A young, budding star does not drink during the season, the alcohol drought both self-inflicted and encouraged by every coach who promises to take her far. Her eyeliner must be smudged by now, but Alexia can’t leave yet because Jenni has promised that she can stay over at her place and she needs her to take her back.

The reason for her temporary relocation is that Alexia is fed-up with her mother’s pestering, seeing as it is only one week into the season and she is already being called a workaholic. She can’t stay in that house tonight, especially when her little sister is the complete opposite: sleeping with anyone who gives her a chance and never doing anything that will help her future. Eli Segura is baffled by the lack of balance in her life – two daughters, two extremes – but she is the most concerned with her eldest, angering Alexia to no end.

Alexia is also fed-up with this conversation. It’s all the girls seem to be talking about these days, utterly consumed with this new English girl group just like the rest of the world. 2sday has completely taken over all interesting topics of discussion, and Alexia doesn’t think she can handle being asked which one of their songs she likes the most one more time.

She likes them, she guesses, but so does everyone. Todo el mundo is in love with all three members.

The girls are discussing who their favourite is.

“She’s Italian though, and that’s cool of her,” Jenni argues, putting forward her case for Bartoli as if she chose to have parents from a certain country. Alexia hums in thought, thinking of the pictures she saw from the world tour – how long her legs are, tanned and sculpted and shown off nicely by the mini-skirt she wore. “Did you know that her little sister is a model? She’s called Cristina or something. The beauty is practically in her DNA.”

“Aren’t all three of them models?” asks Marta pointedly, finger tapping the photoshoot on the magazine cover.

“Well, all three of them are sexy,” Jenni replies, remembering just how enamoured the world is with the three break-out stars. “Ale, which one is your favourite?” The magazine that had sparked this conversation is slid towards the twenty-one-year-old, and she looks at the picture on the front page: you, Gio, and Anya, all dressed in oversized suits with nothing underneath, hair slicked back and eyes piercing, ‘girl power’ brandished over the bottom of the photograph.

“Y/n L/n,” Alexia answers easily, fascinated by the sculpture of your face. She thinks you are beautiful, in a less crass way than her teammates. “And you lot sound like men with the way you talk about them.”

“Ooh, Alexia is getting all high-and-mighty,” Jenni teases. “Looks like it’s time to take the baby home.”

“She’s cranky because she’s tired and it’s past her bedtime,” adds another teammate, though Alexia is too wound up to really care who.

They all make little pouty faces at her as she finishes the last of her glass of water, the clear liquid standing out against the deep red of most of the table. Jenni rolls up the magazine and swats her shoulder with it, before handing it over to its owner and finally allowing Alexia her rest.

In silence, they sit in her car – an old Ford in need of replacing but not on the footballer’s list of things she will buy with the money they are now getting. FC Barcelona Femení has become, at last, a fully professional team, and Alexia looks ahead to the future with a hopeful dream and the knowledge that she will need to work hard if she ever wishes to become the best. Jenni has become a good friend ever since she joined the club last year, and she brings a global ambition to the friendship that she knows Alexia does not have. Jenni is from Madrid, and plays for Barcelona because she can, not because it is her club. Her team is the same as her grandfather’s, and she often expresses to Alexia her wish to play for them someday, as well as scoring in every league she possibly can. Young Alexia Putellas has never once considered stepping foot outside of Spain.

Not only that, but her father died three years ago and here, in Barcelona, is where she feels closest to him. She cannot fathom a life past the plazas and the cobbled streets of her home. And she’s glad. She’s safe here, and she needs nothing more than her team, her family, and a football at her feet. What more could she possibly want?

As she settles on Jenni’s sofa, blanket pulled over her body, head resting on a plump cushion that smells faintly of Jenni’s dog, Alexia decides to watch whatever is on TV right now. Jenni, in an attempt to learn English, has found an English news channel that seemingly reports on ‘exclusive’ celebrity news. There you are, plastered on the screen, your picture zoomed in to the point of the pixels blurring.

The woman speaking has a high-pitched and critical voice, saying words that Alexia does not hear. She stares at your picture, considering the life you have, imagining that, one day, footballers like her have the stardom of Beckham and Messi and Ibrahimovic. Though she herself does not crave that exposure, well aware of her shyness, she thinks about the future with a wistful sigh, lost in her dream as the English woman narrates what she can see, judging how you have opened your mouth to take a bite of the food, listing the brands you are wearing.

And, in her weird, exhausted haze, she sees your face. It’s probably only because you’re on the screen and she’s staring at it, but you are there as she pictures the growth of women’s football. You’re there in the stands as she plays in front of a sold-out Camp Nou, cheering and singing along to Catalan chants she knows you’d never actually know in real life. Slowly, she falls asleep, and, just before she closes her eyes, you are there: back to her, dressed in a familiar shirt. Alexia. 11. Somewhere in a far-off fantasy land, Alexia Putellas marries you that night.

…

It’s Sunday.

You drive to your parents’ house in Hampstead, only twenty minutes away from the flat you now live in, to reluctantly attend their weekly Sunday Roast. Before, it was a condition of remaining on the booking list for the annual family holiday, seeing as you had declared university was going to wait until after your gap year and then had become a popstar instead. Now that both you and your brother can afford to come anyway, the tradition is there for sentimental value. A world tour made you realise how much you love them all, even your annoying older brother.

Your parents are lawyers who met at university and found love in a city that they never moved out of, both of them doing extremely well for themselves. They raised you and your brother to ski, horse-ride, and attend prep schools and public schools, although boarding school was not quite desirable. Your dad speaks in a booming voice, received pronunciation an act used for court, slight Mancunian accent lilting his words whenever he relaxes.

“Darling!” your mum exclaims, surprised at your attendance just like she is every week. “Come on in, come on in. Daddy has the footie on, and your brother is on his way. Don’t you have songs to sing? How come you’re here?”

Ushered inside your own home, you smell the brief scent of your family before adjusting to it all and fitting right back into the chaos. There’s beef in the oven, and the roar of the crowd playing faintly from the kitchen where your dad must be preparing the potatoes. He’s proud of his potatoes.

You slip off your shoes – a new pair of Uggs – and follow your mother to the kitchen. Dad is there, doing exactly what you’d expected, hands working instinctively as his eyes focus on the TV, mouthing along with the commentary as Manchester United take on their opponent. “Sit down,” Dad says as soon as you walk in, pointing at the stools tucked into the island. “We’re not doing too badly, and today should be an easy win.”

“I know. I do watch the football without you, Daddy.”

He tuts. “Yeah, but you don’t get the same level of commentary on your own. Plus, United isn’t even what I wanted to talk to you about. I have thought of a publicity move that you should definitely make – it would really help you guys out.” You entertain his suggestion, knowing that’s what dads do, sitting back on the stool with a smirk on your face, already thinking of an interesting way to tell him he is being stupid. “So, what I was thinking was that you guys do a half-time show! You love football, and the girls love footballers – what isn’t to like? Plus, I bet any club would jump at the chance to make some money from extra tickets sold just to see you.”

“And you haven’t already contacted our manager?” you check, finding your father to be quite unpredictable and rash. His ego is also far too inflated by clients who don’t see him for the kind but bumbling fool he truly is, and so he often takes it upon himself to put forward any ideas he has to your management team, much to everyone’s inconvenience (the last thing they need, amongst sorting out photos of you snogging girls and your friends in various compromising positions, is an old man telling them what he thinks will boost your image). “It’s a good idea, I must admit. I’ll bring it up.”

“Good stuff.” There’s a clang of metal as the potatoes go in the oven too, and the fridge opens with a pop as your dad begins to fish out the carrots and parsnips to complete your meal, Your mother is responsible for everything else. “Try to get it at Barcelona or Real Madrid,” he says off-handedly. “Imagine singing in the Nou Camp. That’d be crazy.”

“Not the appearance I dreamt of when I was little, but I’d still get to touch the grass,” you agree.

“Y/n, we knew you’d never be a footballer. You haven’t got the coordination for that.” They tried to support you, they really did, but then music lessons took over and the sport became a form of entertainment, not exercise. “Women’s football is really something, though. In twenty years, it’ll be good. Maybe you should invest.”

“I know zero women’s footballers, apart from – what’s her name? Kelly Smith. The English one?”

“The Arsenal player, yeah. It’s a shame we don’t have a proper women’s team.”

“Should I fund one?” you joke, but his face lights up and he has taken you seriously. “Okay, I know we’ve been successful thus far, but we haven’t raked in that much. Who knows! It could all go to shit and I could end up right where I started, in my childhood bedroom with no degree and no choice but to mooch off my parents.”

“I get the sense that you’re slightly stressed about this album,” Dad says slowly, smiling wide, proud to have worked you out. He has always been good at that; knowing what you are feeling. It is a wonderful trait for him to have, seeing as your mother struggles with emotional connection of any kind. She is too much of a corporate big-shot for that, anyway.

“It’s killing me.” You sigh, slumping on the stool. “It’ll be released and then we’ll hop on tour and I’m so tired. Anya has a crush and Gio’s dating someone and now all of our songs are about love and I just… I don’t know about that. I don’t know if I will ever know about that.”

And, though he hesitates, Dad walks around the island and places a hand on your shoulder, telling you that you will find the right man someday.

Deep down, he knows that the daughter who loved to watch football and never once commented on their hairstyles or pretty faces – the girl whose crushes on members of boy bands always seemed half-hearted and forced – is not a daughter who is going to bring home a man one day, with a smile on her face and a ring on her finger. He knows. It is quite possible that he has always known. Whether he is going to bring it up before you feel comfortable to talk about it is a different matter, especially since your mother has dreams of her daughter’s husband that she has whispered to him ever since they found out their second child was a girl.

Sunday is pretty routine, which you are grateful for. Your brother, also a lawyer, discusses his latest case, resembling the stories your father used to tell at the dining table: stories you’d both yawn at when you were younger. You dish out a few industry secrets, recounting your most recent trip to Cirque Le Soir. With disdain, your mother berates you for any possible drug-usage, scolding you for something you have not admitted to but somehow knowing that you are guilty of it anyway. It feels much like the family dinners of your teenage years, but you suppose that pop stars never really have to grow up and decide that it isn’t all bad. After all, you drive home in a very stylish car.

Then, the week starts with another gruelling, waste-of-time day at the studio, where you go inside before the sun comes up and emerge long after it has set. Dave is decently pleased with the vocals so far. There are another seven tracks to go, but most of those are being written by other people. Mark Ronson, you’ve heard, is open to working with your group. It’s all very exciting, even if you feel like you have run a marathon by the end of the day.

On Tuesday, you remember to tell your manager and publicist (she’s a woman of many talents) about your father’s idea. At first, her reluctance is extremely evident, but it later dissipates once she thinks about it, having promised you and the now-excited girls to see what she can do.

You are on a private plane to Barcelona before you can realise what is happening.

Bags packed with more make-up and spangled underwear than proper clothes, and sunglasses shielding your hungover eyes courtesy of last night’s consoling of a newly-single Giovanna Bartoli, you try your best not to vomit while in the air and even squeeze in a spot of light reading. The girls laugh (wincing at the sound) when they see you revisiting the Aeneid. You like Virgil, though, so you don’t mind.

“How many days are we here again?” Anya asks, equally hungover.

“Three,” replies your manager, not bothering to look up from her laptop. “Today, tomorrow, and the day after. Please check if the players are married before you do anything with them.”

“I’ve sworn off men,” mumbles Gio miserably. She stretches her legs out with a sniffle, and then draws them back in to protect her broken heart. “If I’d get off with any woman, I’d like her to be Spanish.” She clears her throat, the lump of tears disappearing as she retrieves her GCSE-level Español, giving it a shot. If not to be serious than to at least piss you off. “Hola. ¿Cómo estás? ¿Quieres dormir conmigo?”

“What? And then you’re going to shove your tongue down her throat?” Gio looks at you with a smirk. “That is not how you kiss a woman.”

“Hey, you can’t keep them all to yourself!”

You laugh, though your manager’s attention has been caught and she is already showing her disapproval. “It would be better that I did if that’s how you think it works.”

“None of you are kissing women.”

“That’s not fair,” Anya protests, upset that she didn’t even get to join in the conversation before it got shut down as swiftly as a rowdy houseparty in an American teen-movie.

“I agree. That’s not fair on Y/n, who actually needs to kiss a woman so her knickers aren’t in a twist all the time.”

“I’ll twist your knickers in a minute,” you threaten, fist raised to Gio in good humour.

“See what I mean? She needs to let off some steam.”

“Well, do it discreetly if you must. Do your shows, go out with the players, and bring whoever into your bed as long as they have tight lips and no vendetta against you. Gio, we’re going to have to say something about him ch–”

You gulp, not wanting your friend to cry again. “Wow, the view is really nice,” you interrupt, catching Anya’s appreciative nod in the corner of your eye as you splay your palm on the glass of the aircraft’s window, marvelling at Barcelona’s plazas and cobbled streets. Imagine this being your home, you think to yourself.

…

Jenni is squawking when Alexia makes her way into the circle of players during their drinks break. Alexia knows her friend is excited to go to the men’s game later on today, but she hadn’t realised it is to this extent until she gets grabbed by the forward and shaken as though she is a snowglobe.

“I got the golden ticket,” Jenni shouts in her ear, making their teammates around them laugh. “Me, you, and Mario are going to the match tonight!”

“I already knew that?” They don’t really get free tickets, but they can be heavily discounted. Tonight isn’t a super big deal, though Alexia may stand corrected. “Was I not supposed to know that?”

“Of course she doesn’t know,” Mariona says, squirting some of her water at the midfielder. She recoils from the droplets, but they land on her training top anyway, and Alexia is already pissed off with the entire world. “Alexia, do you seriously live under a football-shaped rock?”

Alexia takes a moment to brush off the teasing, picturing the bursting trophy cabinet that is almost within her grasp. “Yes, and it is very homely.”

“Madre mía, you are one of a kind,” Jenni says with a sigh, movements less aggressive as she drapes an arm around Alexia’s shoulders. “Guess who’s singing at half-time tonight. You’re going to drool so much that the people below us will think it’s raining.”

At this, Alexia knows exactly who Jenni is talking about, and she blushes though it could easily be mistaken for redness from exercising.

“I just think she’s pretty,” comes Alexia’s slightly defensive reply. They walk to the middle of the training pitch, rejoining the team as Xavi explains a confusing drill. Neither really listen.

“Is this your first celebrity crush?” Mariona jibes, overhearing the conversation and finding it necessary to join in. Any excuse to poke fun at the baby of the team.

Jenni ruffles Alexia’s hair, ruining her neat ponytail. “Alexia’s in love with a straight girl,” she sings.

It’s then that the whole team chooses to get involved, ears perking up at the mention of Alexia’s lovelife – a more or less forbidden topic. Their captain, Marta Unzué, even chimes in with a ‘we’ve all been there’. Like a stroppy teenager, Alexia folds her arms over her chest and turns to focus entirely on football, something that she knows she loves and loves her back. They leave her alone for the rest of the training session.

She even manages to forget about what comes after the first forty-five minutes of the match, sitting comfortably in a stadium that is her version of heaven.

You, on the other hand, cannot distance yourself from the nerves of performing in no less than ten minutes.

The players were nice when you accompanied Anya to speak to them, and they spent a good while fumbling their way through English to invite you all to join them tonight at Pacha. You took photos with Messi and Neymar to show your father.

The outfit, if you can call it that, is tight and could possibly show your entire bum to eight-five thousand Culers tonight if you’re not careful. Silver eyeshadow glistens in the mirror when you peer at your reflection, inspecting the bejewelled bralette and tiny shorts you are wearing.

Anya and Gio, who both look dazzling in their own silver combinations, tell you that it is time to get your microphones sorted. When you stand in the tunnel, ready to go out, you see that they have laid out a sheet on top of the grass so your heels don’t ruin it. Part of you wishes that you were in a football strip and boots. The music starts before you can get too reminiscent.

You sing with the same adrenaline you always get, and the crowd becomes a blur in your mind as you lose yourself to the melody. The bass hits your heart just like the lyrics do – especially since this song was written by Anya about her last boyfriend – and you hold back tears as the choreography leads your limbs in an energetic dance that must be entertaining to watch.

When it finishes, and your chest is rising and falling quickly as you try to catch your breath, Alexia thinks you almost catch her gaping at you. Your eyes seem to be scanning the stands. Maybe you see her.

Maybe that is why you, in your big, black hoodie and paparazzi-proof baseball cap are sitting in the stands of Estadi Johan Cruyff the very next day.

Alexia does not point you out to her teammates. You make it clear to all who recognise you that you are trying to be incognito, and either the fans at the stadium have no knowledge of popular culture, or they are granting you your privacy.

She is now the entertainer, shining under the spotlight of the bright sun, a ball at her feet like that is where all balls were made to be. And you watch carefully – she can feel it – but you do not stay long enough for her to even think about approaching you.

…

2016. Somewhere in the sky between LA and New York.

This time round, the tour has confirmed your hatred for all plane journeys, hotels, and sold-out concerts.

You’re dead on the inside, numb to the glitter and sparkles of your life, and your eyes are always halfway to being sealed shut in the deepest slumber humanly possible.

There are a few things that ease the disdain you have for your career, but none of those compare to the channel you have found that streams Barcelona Femení’s football matches. Your excuse, made to no one other than yourself, is that Manchester United has no women’s team. Of course you’d watch them instead, if you could.

“This is peak lesbianism,” Gio comments, her fifth time saying the exact same thing, prodding a napping Anya to alert her to your boredom-killer on the flight. You’re glad these planes have wi-fi. “We’re in America, which has all the women’s football in the world, and you still choose to watch your crappy little stream on your cracked iPad.”

“If you hadn’t decided to jump out at me, the screen would be just fine,” you grumble, transfixed on the way Alexia Putellas dribbles with the ball, turning and passing to Jennifer Hermoso who slots the ball right into the bottom-right corner of the net. The pitch looks damaged, and you really have researched how you can help out the sport, but it is hard to dispute anything the girls say about your crush on an unknown squad member when everyone knows you could get your football fix from the Premier League.

You’re yet to tell anyone that you have just bought this season’s Barcelona shirt. You’re not sure if you’d be invited on the family ski trip if your father were to find out.

“Sorry, sorry,” replies Gio, hands raised in the air, a gesture of surrender. In hindsight, your response was clipped. “Didn’t mean to distract you from such an important task. When will you tell us who it is that you fancy? We’ve been waiting for you to come to us, but, fuck me, you’ve got tight lips.”

“And, before you say it – we’re not nosy. We just care. And we find it cute.”

“And…”

“What?” you practically grunt, biting your tongue as a hefty challenge sends Alexia Putellas face-first onto the patchy grass. It makes your heart jump.

“Well, it’s not like she won’t want you, so make your move.”

“Just like you made your move on Justin Bieber?” She winces. “We did warn you, babe.”

“It’s alright,” Anya comforts with a small smile, though you are well aware of how funny she also found the situation. Being in LA, as a celebrity, is always an interesting experience. In Gio’s defence, she did not know about a certain model standing right behind her, and you are fairly sure she had run off to do lines with someone or other earlier. “But, yeah, seriously. Y/n, do you want us to guess?”

“Go on. Guess.” You smirk, because they’ll never–

Anya’s hand flaps as she puts her privately-educated memory to good use. “What’s-her-face?” she squeals, hand slapping down on her thigh as the name eludes her, the flapping resuming once she remembers. “Alexia Putellas!”

You rip your eyes from your cracked screen, widened in horror. “How did you know?” you ask, voice a whisper as you swallow your shock.

“You talk about her all the time. ‘Ooh, she’s the future’ this, ‘watch her grow’ that. Just talk to her. She’ll fancy you back.”

“She’s not a celebrity. Normal people don’t slide into people’s DMs like we do, and I have no clue whether or not she can speak English,” you reason, having said the same thing to yourself every time your finger hovers on that feature of Instagram. “And I don’t like her? You saw me kissing–”

“God, drop it. You know she kisses anyone with a mouth, and you also know that you’re lying your arse off. Whoever this footballer is, just talk to her. If anything, it’ll be good for you to spend time with someone who isn’t going to drag you right into their own closet.”

“Closets in LA can be very big,” you say with a sigh, having already received a lecture about the damage-control your publicist always seems to be doing. You don’t really think it’s ‘damage’ if a photo of you enjoying yourself with someone, but your publicity team deems any picture of you with a woman one to be locked away in some encrypted file and never released in the papers.

…

You: Hola! Congratulations on the win. :)

You cringe so hard, but you send it anyway, your friends leaning over either shoulder as they egg you on, wishing your closet gobbled you whole and spat you out somewhere further away than Narnia.

Alexia, in Barcelona, groans at the sound of her phone buzzing, wondering who on Earth is texting her this late.

And she drops the device on her face when she sees what the notification is.

Because it really does not make sense, and she is not used to the idea that women’s footballers could one day fraternise with celebrities like you without feeling out of place. (And she’s had a crush on you for about two years and you’re texting her at midnight to congratulate her.)

You, on the other hand, are gripping onto your phone with trembling hands, holding on for dear life. Anya, who claims her C in A-level Spanish was unjust and incorrect, is brainstorming your next message, adamant that you’ll seem cooler if you display some knowledge of her mother tongue. You don’t tell her that, of course, Alexia’s first language would have been Catalan, because you don’t want it to be obvious that you have done a little bit (a lot) of research.

Gio tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear for you – a comforting gesture. “Hey,” she says kindly, “what’s the worst that could happen?”

She tries.

She fails.

You have compiled a list within a millisecond. “I don’t know,” you start, but, oh, you do. “She could screenshot the conversation and leak it to Twitter? Or she’s not a lesbian and she is disgusted that I am? She could have a girlfriend? She could think my account’s been hacked and report me and everything’ll be deleted? Or all of the above?!”

The chat is still open on your phone, but you can’t see past your tidal wave of anxiety.

“I think you’re just nervous.” Understatement of the century.

Before you can make a snide remark saying exactly that but to Anya’s face, your message is no longer the only one present.

“She replied!” you shout, volume a concoction of fear and excitement and a thousand emotions in between.

Alexia: Gracias por ver :)

“Thanks for watching,” Anya translates.

You exhale. “Okay. Done. No more.” You ignore both of their facepalms with the sort of blissful ignorance you’re sure only delusional people possess, but it is better to have a healthy heart rate than to understand the lyrics to whatever ballad the two of them have in the works.

…

“Kiss her.”

“What?”

“Just kidding,” Jenni giggles, winking at Alexia and stealing her glass of something-not-too-strong.

The team has been invited to a party with the men’s team, all because their favourite girl group is back in town and are treating the club like a pit-stop on their way to Madrid for the European-leg of their tour. The album has been in the top ten worldwide ever since it was released.

Alexia looks good tonight, as said by Jenni who thought her wardrobe consisted solely of football strips and Barcelona merchandise, and she revels in her little secret. Your little secret. She hasn’t told anyone that you messaged her two months ago, even if the conversation ended with her response.

Which is why Jenni is set on teasing Alexia about her non-existent chance with you, especially when you have spent your entire night on the other side of the reception room, deep in conversation with Neymar Jr., who is not shameful about his appreciation for the plunging neckline of your tight dress. He has a girlfriend, but Alexia has seen enough tabloid headlines to know that most famous people don’t care.

Your glass is always full, though that is your own doing. Something about the way a pair of hazel eyes have been watching you from the minute you walked in makes the air around you feel heavier than it should, and alcohol helps to dull your fluster.

Anya and Gio have circled back a few times, adding to their persuasion each lap. When you see Gio heading your way, a small smile playing on her lips as someone or other trails behind, you excuse yourself from your conversation with your personal hero (who, sadly, would be able to describe your boobs but not your face if he were asked) and clasp your fingers around her forearm, pulling the two of you even further from a certain women’s footballer on the other side of the room.

“She’s staring,” says Gio in a low voice, leaning in to speak into your ear. “She’s staring at you like she wants to eat you.”

“I’d let her,” you reply, lips loosened from the champagne you’ve been drinking. “She is beautiful.”

“She is still staring.”

You decide to be bold. You stare back, and Alexia is trapped, frozen to the spot. “She is so beautiful.”

“Now you’re both staring.”

“I’m going to talk to her.”

“You should,” she encourages, slurring. The blur might come from your distraction, your drunkenness, or her own intoxication. You don’t care.

Absently, you nod. “Yeah.”

She presses her fingertips between your shoulder blades, cold hands making you shiver. “Go. You got this.”

“Yeah.”

She pushes you away from her, in Alexia’s direction. Your feet carry you on what feels like an inevitable path.

And you… walk right past her, out of the door, and into the warm air of the evening to have a smoke instead.

Behind you, Gio lets out a silent scream, turning right around and giving up on your happiness because what more can she do? And Alexia, who is confused about what just happened and bored of this event anyway, is glad to be given an excuse to leave.

Except, you are blocking her exit, cigarette pressed to your lips as you inhale the smoke like it is a lifeline. She frowns, lips a tight line of disappointment, really. “¿Tú fumas?” she asks, though she knows both the answer and of your incompetence when it comes to her language.

You let your eyes meet hers, and Alexia shivers, though she tells herself it is only because it’s November. “Hola,” you reply.

For some reason, Alexia is drawn in. She steps closer to you, and you don’t have anywhere to go, backed against the wall you are leaning on. You’re drunk, and the cigarette has burned down to a stub of orange and black. She’s also drunk – less so than you – and she has nothing to lose right now. She is no one, in her mind, and you are far from prudish.

She decides, once she is barely ten centimetres away from you, that your dress is provocative, but it only adds to your existing beauty. You push your chest out, standing up straighter.

The dance is very still, and very silent, but you can imagine what it feels like to kiss her and you know that she is thinking the same thing.

“You can, if you want to,” you whisper, hoping she understands.

Luckily, she does.

Alexia fumbles her way through the first tentative second, shocked that this is what she is doing, but she finds her footing and relaxes into the taste of champagne and cigarette smoke, the heat of your body sparking a fire within her. You pull her closer, pressing her body into yours, and you are now consumed by desperation. The kiss grows messier, and Alexia’s hands begin to roam, mind lost in a haze of desire. She is explorative but she is gentle, and you gasp into her mouth as her tongue pushes past your lips and a hand settles on the curve of your bum, the other cupping your jaw.

Briefly, she wonders how many girls you have done this with. You seem experienced. The thought, while a little disturbing, sort of spurs her on, feeding into her competitive nature. This will be unforgettable for her regardless of the outcome because it’s an interesting story to tell, but what about you? Are you even aware of what you’re doing? Are you straight? No, you can’t be. You messaged her, so you started this. She is only… finishing it?

You sense her distraction, pulling back with a blink and a deep intake of fresh air. She tries to move back, afraid of what comes next, but you don’t let her go, clutching onto the hardened muscles of her arms to hold her in place, ready to kiss her again.

The moment is spoilt by a voice – an English voice – and the theft of your attention. Your eyes, previously hooded and dark, widen as they flit towards the door behind her, terribly upset that your friends have developed the worst timing known to man. Gio shouts again, telling you that it’s time to go. You have to get to Madrid, and the pilot would be incredibly annoyed to hear that the flight was delayed because you were too caught up in snogging a girl you may or may not fancy.

“We really need to go!” Anya repeats, growing impatient with you as you debate giving up your entire music career. “Like, it is insane how badly you need to get your arse over here to say your goodbyes and then jump in the taxi to the airport with us.”

“Can it just–”

“No!” they both shout in unison.

You sigh, looking at Alexia, the proximity prodding at a feeling low in your stomach. She doesn’t squirm under the intensity of your gaze, instead sporting a lazy, blissfully ignorant grin. And you’re about to break her little heart.

“I have to go,” you say softly, forehead resting on her shoulder as you mumble your words out. You have a duty to your job, or, as Virgil puts it: labor omnia vincit. Work conquers all.

“You have to…?” she tries.

“Go.”

“Tiene que irse,” Anya translates, reminding you of her presence (and her much better comprehension of Spanish). “Ahora.”

“Ah.” Alexia’s hand cups the back of your neck as you raise your head, and she kisses you, though the kiss is short.

You pat your body down with a sudden haste, wandering past your alcohol-clouded thoughts to remember the location of your ticket, reaching down to grab your clutch from where you’d dropped it on the floor while having a smoke. It pops open as Alexia watches your movements, and you retrieve a pen and a scrunched up ticket (you have no idea why that’s in there, but you are grateful that it is).

“Here.” You hand her the ticket, pressing it into the palm of her hand and then sealing your goodbye with a quick peck to her lips.

Then, you are gone, running off at an impressive speed in those heels, chasing your friends into the building.

She pauses herself in time for a moment, drawing back her grasp on reality as her thoughts still and she breathes in your lingering perfume. And then she blinks – blinks her way back into midnight in Barcelona.

She opens her palm to see what your gift was, unfolding the piece of paper with an overwhelming curiosity that almost rips it at the edges.

A boarding pass from London Stansted to Barcelona-El Prat Airport, decorated in fresh, black ink.

Scrawled on top of the flight details is something much more valuable than the entrance into First Class the paper allows.

Eleven digits.

Twenty-two-year-old Alexia Putellas, the catalyst for change in women’s football as the world knows it, suddenly sees her future set right out in front of her. Because there you are.

#woso x reader #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas #woso #woso fanfics #barca femeni #fc barcelona

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