#took something like six weeks to finish this chapter

[mistydear]

soften me now, let me take as is given (xviii)

billie dean howard x reader summary: You meet Billie in mourning. She's too professional, and you're too angry, and it takes too long to see her again. And again. And again as your lives tumble together. w/c: 2.9k taglist: unsure! let me know if you're still interested chapter one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, eighteen notes: hi! i've actually had this chapter and most of the next chapter written for a long time and never posted them. not sure why, but i'm going to get 19 posted in a couple days just because i can and should. can't make any promises, but this story lives in my head still. so i want to finish it. to whoever reads this, thank you! and i hope you enjoy :) warnings: discussion of cancer

The last few weeks, Billie thinks, have been oversaturated with you. Like a movie screen with the vibrancy up so high it hurts her eyes, makes her dream in colors that don’t exist. It’s terrible. And Billie just can’t stop, doesn’t have the willpower to grab onto something steady, something real to stop the spinning. She’s sick with you, absolutely run down and overwhelmed by your warmth and gratitude and patience and humor. God, you can make her laugh. Harder than she has in years. It scares her half to death sometimes when she looks at you and wonders. Not just about brushing your hair back for you or sliding a hand tight around your waist or kissing your soft, lovely lips. But about waking up next to you, getting to see you bathed in a soft morning light, knowing how you take your coffee and making it for you every morning. Billie finds herself wanting something much softer and more tender with you than she’s allowed herself to have in a long time. She wants to love you. 

The last time she took you out to dinner, it was at some swanky bistro in West Hollywood. And as soon as you noticed that they didn’t post the prices on the menu, you blushed and set it down. 

“Billie, I can’t afford this,” you admit with considerable difficulty and humiliation, your cheeks tinging red in the candlelight. Billie forces down a blissful, hazy grin and reaches over, covering your hand with hers. 

“Darling, I’m taking you out to dinner. I don’t expect you to pay.” Your cheeks flush darker at the term of endearment, and you swallow, pulling your hand away and down into your lap. 

“This is too much,” you breathe, and Billie’s eyes search yours, her smile flickering and fading, trying to hide her panic. 

“Did I overstep?” She’s been worried, endlessly it seems, about stepping too carelessly into romance and getting burned, about making it awkward and uncomfortable. Billie doesn’t think she could stand that, not with you. They’ve worked too hard to be friends to then get lost in some terrible unrequited crush. Fiddling with your napkin, your jaw tightens momentarily before you look back at Billie. 

“No, you’re not…” you take a breath. “You’re not overstepping. I’m just not used to being paid for. I don’t want to owe you anything.” 

“You could never,” Billie says, brow furrowed because the idea itself is ridiculous. It takes a minute for you to accept that, but as soon as Billie sees it on your face, she smiles, soft and easy. “Unfortunately, I’m rather fond of you. It’s what I do for people I like.” 

“Buy them things?” you ask, a hint of amusement creeping in. Billie chuckles, resting her elbow on the table, her chin on her knuckles. 

“Spoil them,” she allows herself to say, eyes sparkling in the low, warm light. Your eyes lock with hers in surprise, and then you swallow. 

“You are not the same Billie Dean Howard I met on my front porch,” you say with a shake of your head. “I feel like I’m constantly uncovering a little bit more of you.” Your voice begs a question Billie isn’t sure how to answer. She feels like any explanation might give too much away. She helped you when you were nothing but cruel to her. She bought your house. She was so patient with you, and you with her. And now you’re here, and she’s spoiling you the way she does with the people who steal her affections. Billie swallows, resting her hands back in her lap. 

“I’m sorry it’s taken so long. I’m not an easy person to get to know.” 

“Please don’t apologize,” you chuckle, shifting forward. “I promise you I understand. Besides, it’s kinda exciting.” 

“Exciting?” Billie drones, looking at you over her lashes. 

“Yes” you laugh. “I’m never bored.” Billie huffs out a laugh and rolls her eyes. 

“I’m glad I’m so entertaining for you.” You grin, biting your lip, and your eyes are shining in the candlelight, and Billie wants to kiss you. 

Later in the night, after Billie steals the check from you before you can look at it and you’re walking to your cars arm in arm, you lean your head on her shoulder. Billie stiffens. 

“Maybe next time, we can start talking about the really deep stuff. Like your favorite color.” Billie lets herself grin, chest tight, and rests her cheek against your head. 

“It’s taupe,” she mumbles, and your head shoots up from her shoulder, horrified and disbelieving. 

“You’re kidding.” 

“Yes, I’m kidding,” she chuckles, and you press a hand to your heart in relief. “It’s green.” 

“Green,” you echo, resting your head back down, your steps falling in line.

“Like spanish moss,” Billie offers, and you hum. 

“That’s oddly specific.” 

“There’s not much that I miss about my childhood,” Billie breathes. “But climbing all the big oak trees and watching the spanish moss sway in the breeze was…” You lift your head, turning to watch Billie’s furrowed brow and faraway eyes. “It was a nice escape.” 

“Escape from what?” you ask quietly, and Billie swallows, giving you a brief, tight smile. You give her one back, but it’s sadder, more careful, and then you’re leaning in, squeezing Billie’s arm, your thumb across her bicep. It’s a little thing, a small comfort, but it means the world to her. And she’s afraid to look up at you. Afraid she might kiss you. 

“Thank you for coming to dinner with me,” she says, mustering the restraint to meet your eyes. Your arm tightens in Billie’s, and you’re smiling. 

“Thank you for agreeing to come to Norah’s birthday party.” Billie exhales the tightness in her chest. “It’s this Saturday. Don’t forget.” 

“I wouldn’t miss it,” she says, and it’s the truth. An opportunity to see you in any context was something she couldn’t ever pass up. Then you pull her into a hug, tight and warm, and Billie closes her eyes against you, fingers splayed across your back. “Goodnight, Y/N.” 

“Night, Billie.” 

. . . 

Billie’s curled up on her couch the night before Norah’s party in satin pajamas. There’s a steaming cup of tea on her end table and a book nestled in her lap. She’s startled by the sound of her phone ringing but even more startled to see who’s calling. With a deep, settling breath, she dog ears her book and sets it down next to her tea. 

“Hi dad,” she breathes. 

“Good to hear your voice, honey bunches,” he says, that southern twang drawn and tired. She checks the time. South Carolina is four hours ahead of Los Angeles which would make it two in the morning there. Something surges up within her, choked and panicky. 

“What happened?” He lets out a strained chuckle, and she can picture him scrubbing his fingers across his scruffy jaw. 

“Y’know how your mama’s had that cough.”

“No,” Billie shoots back. “I didn’t know.” Her father hums. 

“Musta been Jamie I was talkin’ to then,” he offers. “Your brother actually calls home to check in every once an’a while.” 

“Dad,” Billie groans, pressing her fingers into her temple. “Please just tell me what happened.” 

“She started up that coughing. Couldn’t catch her breath. I pat her back, gave her water,” he sighs, pausing. “There was blood in it, Billie. Curlin’ down like smoke. An��� she just looks up at me with a face I ain’t seen since you up and left. Resigned and so hard. Then she swallows and licks those lips and says, James, get my coat.” The silence on the line is deafening, and Billie numbly registers her ears ringing. “So here we are, Hoffman-Strauss Memorial.”

Billie’s throat is thick, and she blinks once then twice, chest tight. 

“Okay.” Her voice is hoarse. She swallows. “Have you seen a doctor yet?” 

“Just a room. Your mama’s sleepin’. She’s scheduled for a CT at 8.” 

“And Jamie knows?” He hums. 

“She’s too proud to say it, but she wants you to call her.” Billie scoffs, holding her hand over her eyes as she shakes her head.

“The only thing she wants to hear from me is that I’m leaving Hollywood,” she says, suddenly so weary. 

“Set it aside, Billie Dean. Just for a minute,” he tells her, harder this time, with less give. Her shoulders deflate, and she swallows, looking down into her lap. “I love you.” 

“Love you, dad.” When she hangs up, the world feels like it’s tilted on its axis. The last time she spoke to her mother, Billie’s face had been in the tabloids, her name spoken like a disgraced Hollywood starlet. Out of all the things her mother’s ever said to her, that phone call was relatively tame. It was expected, usual. The guilt, the shaming, the moral superiority. And now she’s coughing blood. Some might call that divine intervention. Absently, Billie laughs. It’s a weak chuckle, but it grows. And as it does, Billie’s chest seizes up. She laughs and laughs, but there’s a growing pit in her chest, and she’s starting to feel hysterical. She just can’t stop. And then the laughter turns gasping, and she can’t breathe. And my god, the hardest woman in America is coughing blood. She is a human being. Delicate and fallible. 

Billie presses her palms into her eyes. “Fuck. Fuck.” 

She remembers pressing a wet cloth to the back of your neck when you broke down over Kate, and Billie tries to treat herself with the same patience, the same kindness. What do you need right now? Slowly, she forces her breathing to slow, shuts out everything but the in and out of her breath and the occasional flash of your smile in her mind’s eye, your gentle hands on her arms. Jamie. She hasn’t spoken to him since his birthday. He reminds her too much of her childhood, so she tries to stay away. Not tonight. Her heart is pounding when she presses call, and she feels lightheaded, but she forces herself to stay on the line as it rings. 

“Dad called you too, huh?” he asks when the phone connects, and immediately her breathing evens and slows. 

“Yeah,” she says quietly as the world stops spinning around her. 

“Takes a lot for you to reach out. The news must’ve rattled you.” 

“I’m fine,” she says immediately, rubbing circles in her chest. He scoffs, and she closes her eyes. He hasn’t lost his accent, but it’s weaker now, stilted. Though his voice hasn’t changed, that richness, that unwavering steadiness is still there. 

“Alright. Goodnight, then.” 

“Wait,” Billie starts, and she hears him settle and exhale. “I’m sorry. I just don’t know…” she scoffs and shakes her head. 

“I know,” he says, low and even. There’s a thick silence between them, and Billie remembers his hair, brown and unruly. She always used to ruffle it. She wonders how he styles it now. Is it shorter? How does his wife like it? Does she like that scruff he refuses to shave? Or does he shave it now? They’re little things, she knows, inconsequential really. But it’s the missing she can’t let go of now. The disconnect. 

“How are you?” she asks finally, and he chuckles. 

“I’m alright. Business is tightening with the economy, but we’re fine. Addison’s still with her firm. Could be making partner next year.” 

“That’s great, Jamie, really,” she says with a smile. He doesn’t respond right away. 

“How are you? I saw the magazines.” Her blood runs cold. “Come on, Bill, I know mom ragged you on it.” Jamie’s known she’s a lesbian since high school when he caught her kissing her best friend against the shed one hot summer afternoon. Feeling bitter, Billie stands up. 

“I’m used to her bullshit,” she says, grabbing her cigarettes and stepping onto her balcony. When she lights one, it’s an immediate relief. “The press? Not as much,” she admits. 

“What’s it like bein’ a Hollywood hotshot?” he asks, a laugh in his voice. She takes a deep drag, shaking her head.

“I try not to acknowledge it,” she admits. 

“Me and Addie’ve been watching your show.” She taps ash over her balcony and clenches her jaw. “Don’t get like that,” he drones without ever seeing her face. “It’s good. Really good.” 

“You never used to think it was good,” she says, embarrassed and maybe too bitter. Jamie always stood around a corner and watched when their mother would yell at her, tell her to stop that. It’s not right. As if she had any choice in the matter. As if she wanted to see the dead roaming her house on a Saturday afternoon. She was so alone. And then Jamie would look at her with those big, shameful eyes and turn away to go play with his friends, knees muddy and bruised. Jamie takes a breath on the other line. 

“You really think I had a say in it, Billie Dean?” 

“No,” she replies quickly and then sighs. “No, I don’t,” she adds, softer. “But you could have…” she trails off, rebellious tears welling in her eyes. She takes another long drag, trying to will them away. “Later, you could have…” 

“You mean later when you moved out and didn’t talk to any of us for five years? Or do you mean later when you sent me a Christmas card and spelled Addie’s name wrong.” Billie blushes fiercely, jaw clenched as she looks down, looks away as if Jamie’s staring right at her right now. “I know that your experiences with mom were a lot different than mine, but I ain’t the enemy.” She takes a long drag as she looks out at the skyline. She knows he’s right, but she doesn’t know how to let her body know that. 

“I’m sorry,” she finally admits, blowing smoke into the warm breeze. 

“I’m sorry too.” They’re both silent for a long time. “Listen, Billie. I’m tired. I’m driving in tomorrow. I’ll call you with news, alright?” 

“Alright,” she says, quiet as she looks down at her feet. 

“Try to get some sleep,” he says before the call disconnects. 

. . . 

When the sun comes up, Billie’s neck deep in a scientific journal about lung cancer. Her eyes are red, and her tea is long since cold, and her brow feels permanently furrowed, lips sealed in a hard line. It’s 6:30 when she finally turns her neck in another direction, peels her laptop from her skin, and licks her chapped lips. Her whole body is buzzing and achy, and she swallows, sending a vague text to cancel her things for the day. And then she drags herself to bed and sleeps so fitfully she could barely call it sleep. 

She only wakes up at noon to the sound of her phone ringing. Bleary and dazed, she pulls it toward her, hair across her face. 

“Hello?” she mumbles. 

“They’re gonna do some more tests, but…” Jamie sighs, and Billie feels electricity shoot through her in an icy, terrible jolt. 

“It’s cancer,” she says, cold and empty. 

“Is it surprising?” Jamie chuckles wearily, “she smokes like a chimney.” Billie’s stomach flips and a rush of dizziness takes over. 

“Now what?” 

“I don’t know.” 

. . . 

Billie doesn’t know what to wear to a party like this, but she does have more than enough black for a funeral. Stop. Stop it. Billie wants to scrub her mind clean with a brillo pad. Her chest clenches, and she closes her eyes, willing away the intrusive thoughts that want to swallow her whole. She doesn’t even know what to feel. All she can manage is panic and avoidance. It’s something to deal with later. Not now. Please, not now. She’ll have to make the trip down south. She knows this. It’s inevitable. Christ. 

Instead of digging through her closet, hair still wet after her shower, she walks to the kitchen and pours herself a glass of bourbon. She’s going to a party in two hours. Isn’t that what one does? Drink beforehand? 

. . . 

“Andy’s not coming,” you announce when you enter Norah’s apartment with several grocery bags full of various liquors. 

“What?” Norah asks, poking her head out from the kitchen. She’s unpackaging red solo cups, both shot glass and full size. 

“We had a fight.” 

“Uh oh,” she intones, “what happened?” You sigh, setting down the bags on her dining room table. 

“I told her I didn’t want her at the party.” Norah raises her brow, pressing a hand to her hip patiently. 

“Is everything okay?” You don’t know how to answer that. The excuse you gave Andy was some story about how you always attended Norah’s parties with Kate, and you didn’t want to feel like you’re replacing her this year, and it was thin and unbelievable even to Andy. 

“I’m pushing her away,” you finally admit, eyes squeezed tight. When you open them, Norah’s head is tilted, her eyes soft. 

“Why?” she asks carefully, stepping forward, folding her arms over her chest. 

“I think I feel trapped?” you guess, wringing your hands. “She loves me. She hasn’t said it, but I know she does. And I don’t think I can love her back.” 

“Because of Kate?” 

“Partially. I don’t know. I don’t wanna talk about it anymore,” you sigh, shaking your head and waving the topic away with your hands. “Let’s just get ready for this party.” Norah gives you a searing look, a hint of a smile on her lips, before continuing on. Though there’s something in her eyes that unsettles you, something she knows that she’s not saying. You chew your lip and try not to think about it. 

#writing #billie dean howard #soften me now #american horror story #ahs #billie dean howard x reader #billie dean howard x y/n #ahs fanfic #ahs murder house #billie dean howard fanfic #billiedeanhoward

[bluenotes75]

Trust pt.2

Miles Morales ! 42 x Fem ! Reader x Miles Morales ! 1610

wc : 5,9k Warnings : angst, possessiveness, all characters are around 19 years old, cheating, no proofread, what I could remember from my spanish class 3 years ago, eventual love triangle ?, dramaaaa. pt.1 - pt.2 - pt.3 (coming soon)

Sorry, it took so long, the chapter just kept getting longer. Anyways, hope you enjoy <3

You sighed as you closed the door of the store. It was already past midnight and you had just finished a long shift. Oddly, the store had been particularly active today and you couldn't catch any break. Now you sought one simple thing. To find the comfort of your bed.

You removed the key from the lock and frowned as a drop of water touched your skin. It was raining. 

Wonderful.

You had no umbrella with you as you didn't anticipate the night to get rainy. Regretting your choice of clothes, you pressed your bag on top of your head to protect yourself from the rain. Your home was a bit far from the cornerstone you worked at and you knew you had to hurry up because the streets were not safe at night.

As you headed toward your apartment, your thought deviated toward him. 

It had been one month. Four weeks since everything fell apart.

At least, to you.

Twenty-eight days since you broke up with Miles Morales. Six hundred and seventy-two hours since he betrayed you and you liked to think that you had moved on. It was the easiest way to go through your days. 

 And if your heart ached each time you found his clothes in your closet or if you woke up in the middle of the night to noises on your window thinking it was him, you denied it.

The pain that you felt that night was unmatched. It was still fresh, rooted deep in your memories. But with time, you discovered it was nothing next to the pain of leaving without Miles. He wasn't there physically, yet he occupied each ounce of your mind.

Contrary to what you could believe, Miles wasn't any better. You were on his mind, 24/7. 

He regretted. He regretted considerably. He had made the worst mistake of his life and just like that, you slipped through his fingers. 

You were his world. His universe. He missed your presence. He missed holding you in his arms, feeling the warmth of your skin, tickling the curve of your hip, caressing the softness of your skin with his lips and seeing the deepness of your loving gaze when you looked up at him. He missed everything about you and he refused to let you go.

And this became the hardest part for you. Miles had tried to get you back. 

Countless time.

Because even if your mind was screaming no, your heart was still weak for the boy. And he knew it.

He hadn't stopped texting you in the weeks following your break up. He had asked for forgiveness so many times you couldn't even count it. When you blocked him on every social media, he directly came to your house. He would knock on your window at late hours like he always did. 

You would leave him outside.

After some time, he finally decided to give you some space but you could still feel his presence from afar. You could feel his stare on your back sometimes as you came back from work. You knew he was still making sure you were safe. Sometimes, you find to notes from him on your window.

You didn't read them.

You had thought of taking him back. On your lowest nights, you had thought that maybe it was for the best. You felt nothing without him. Even if the relationship brought your more strain than anything else, it was at least something. It was toxic but addicting. It made you cry at night but it made you feel high on other days. The only thing stopping you from going back was that little doubt ticking in the back of your brain.

What if he did it again?

But if there was one thing you knew, is that you were faithful to yourself. You were too afraid to put yourself through that process again if he was to mess up again. He had already broken you once, had left you miserable and you had suffered too much to trust him again.

So with time, you learned to let go. You had finally gotten used to living without him. Each day you were forgetting him more and more and you felt like yourself once again. And while your heart was still tied to his in a way, you knew you could live peacefully now.

You were dragged out of your thoughts by a noise behind you, yet you didn't give it a second thought. However, when you heard again, this time followed by irregular steps against the wet concrete, you frowned.

You peeked behind your shoulder and noticed a man, both taller and broader, dressed in a black hoodie. You couldn't see his face.

Your heartbeat picked up.

You accelerated, hoping that you were worrying for nothing, but that hope was soon crushed when the steps also became faster. Before you could think of a way to get yourself out of this situation, a hand covered your mouth and you were dragged into an alley.

It was dark and you could barely see anything as you fought back against the broad body that manhandled you against the wall. 

''What pretty girl like you doing outside at such an hour.''

He whispered, his breath reeking of booze. He pressed his body against yours and travelled his hands on your back. Your cheeks pressed hard against the rugged brick wall, you felt tears burn the brim of your eyes as you realized what was about to happen.

''N-no! Please don't''

''Shut up bitch, you want it. You wouldn't be walking alone at such hours if not,'' he laughed in your ears.

''Nah, I think her no was clear enough.''

You jerked at the new voice and soon, the hands holding you against the wall disappeared. You turned around panicked, gasping as the man who was once all over you, now laying on the ground, holding his bruised cheek. Another guy dressed in a red suit stood over him.

''I hate assholes like you-'' the newcomer shot a string of web to tie up the man against the wall ? ''who think they can do whatever they want.''

You rubbed your eyes to make sure you saw well. Web ?

''Don't touch women again, got it ?''

The man nodded quickly, eyes widened in fear before the guy in red sent another punch, knocking him out for good.

You stood there, back against the wall, frozen. You had never heard of a guy in red playing the hero in Brooklyn.

New-york was filled with villains. You just hoped to fall on the nicest one.

As if reading your thoughts, the guy in red walked toward you.

''Hey, are you fine? I'm sorry this happened !''

He stopped in his track when you flinched.

''Look, I don't want you any harm,'' he raised his arms in the air as proof. ''Can I...come closer ?''

You nodded slowly, still speechless, and he did so. From closer, he was towering over you and you had to raise your head to properly look at him.

Just like with your ex.

You frowned, feeling stupid for thinking of the guy in such a situation and finally spoke.

''Thank you."

You watched as he smiled through his mask.

''Of course,'' he raised his hand before stopping abruptly. ''Can I touch you ?''

You nodded and he held your chin, angling it to the side and checking your cheek.

''Good he didn't hurt you,'' he then took in your appearance. You were completely wet because of the rain and you had started shivering. He removed the coat he was wearing and wrapped it around your shoulders. ''Here.''

A million thoughts crossed your mind, yet you only cared about one.

The coat smelled like Miles. 

You shook your head, feeling stupid again. Were you so obsessed that you imagined your ex everywhere now? You really needed some sleep. 

But you didn't want to walk home alone.

''I'll bring you home,'' the boy announced before wrapping his arms around your hips. ''Hold onto me tight.''

You did as he said, confused about why but soon understood when he brought you both in the air.

''Oh god !''

You closed your eyes not daring to look down.

''I know,'' he laughed near your ear and you couldn't ignore the shivers that crossed your body at the familiarity of his voice.

In less than ten minutes, you were home after telling him the way.

''Thank you for this,'' you smiled shyly and handed him back his coat.

''Of course! ''

You looked at him and you just couldn't get rid of this picture of Miles. 

''Who are you ?''

You were shocked at your own question, the word escaping your mouth before you could stop yourself.

''Oh, I'm Spiderman," the guy said and you could hear the proudness in his voice.

''No, like who are you really?'' You slid your hands down his shoulders and his arms. It was a posture you knew too well. You could recognize that body in a million. ''Miles ?''

''W-what''

You grabbed the end of his mask and to your surprise, he didn't stop you. You raised it until it revealed his face.

A gasp escaped you as you saw Miles but....he didn't have braids. You studied him carefully. Same lips, same nose, same cheekbones, you almost got fooled. But when you made eye contact with him, you saw it.

It wasn't your ex.

His eyes weren't the same. Your ex had this hardened stare. A gaze built by the wall he created around himself. People said eyes were the mirror of the soul but you couldn't read anything through them.

This guy in front however had....innocence painted all over his eyes. His stare was soft, warm and solacing. 

''You aren't Miles, who are you ?''

The guy took a step forward, hope in his eyes. You stepped back.

''You know Miles Morales ?'' 

You shook your head freaked out by the situation and took another step back.

''Get out.''

The taller widened his eyes. 

''No, no please listen to me first.''

Maybe it was his eyes, maybe it was because he looked like Miles, you didn't know. But you didn't have the heart to chase him away one more time.

''You have five minutes.''

"So you're telling me that you are a hero from another earth that is exactly like mine and you saved people you weren't supposed to so a hoard of spidermans is following you and you need to go back to your earth to save your dad."

Miles nodded eagerly.

"I know it sounds crazy but yeah…that's pretty much it.''

''Damn,'' you breathed, letting the information sink in. ''And you need me for..?''

''To find a way back home.''

The boy stared at you expectantly, waiting for your answer. You bit the inside of your cheek before shaking your head.

''Look, I don't think I can help you with that.''

His face dropped and he clasped your smaller hands in his calloused ones.

''Nonono, please! You are the only one I could find and you seem to already know Miles Morales from here. You know how I need to act to stay unnoticed.''

You thought about his words. It made sense, but you didn't want to get involved in all that mess.

"I really don't know."

"Please !"

You wondered for a few more seconds. How where you supposed to refuse when he was looking at you pleadingly?

''Alright.''

His facial features broke into a grin and he pulled on your arm, making you collide against his chest.

''Thank you !''

You could only widen your eyes as you felt his arms tighten around you. You hadn't expected this sudden affection. Dumbstruck, you failed to return the gesture until he froze and leaned back, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly.

''Sorry, I got too excited…'' he looked away, your stare becoming too intense for him.

You stayed silent for a few seconds before bursting out laughing. The Miles you knew was so cold so this new Miles with such a…bubbly personality was interesting.

You couldn't help but think it was sweet…and very cute.

''It's fine.''

He seemed satisfied with your reaction as he joined you before your laughers died down.

''Uh, I might have sum else to ask.''

You hummed.

''I kinda need a place to stay.''

Miles towered over you, holding bedsheets, while you hugged a pillow to your chest.

''So how are we going to do this ?''

You two made eye contact before glancing at the bed again. Suddenly, the boy dropped the fabric on the floor and rose his hand next to his chest.

''I'll sleep on the ground, it's fin-''

''no, you don-''

''Yes, I do. I'm the guy and the guest, so sleep on the bed and I'll-''

''Just lay down, I don't mind.''

You slid under the covers not waiting for his reaction and soon, you heard the mattress dip toward his side. He was careful to let some space between you.

You rose the fabric over both of your bodies and sighed. This was a long day and you were honey tired. You tried to get some sleep but you could feel starring eyes burning your skin.

''What is it ?'' you whispered with your eyes still closed.

You heard the rub of covers before Miles cleared his throat.

''Nothing, nothing.''

Then the mattress bent again and you assumed he turned the other way.

''Oh, by the way. My mom can't know you are here. So you know…be discreet.''

You didn't want to have to explain to her what Miles, your ex - even if it's not really him - was doing in your room at such an hour.

''Don,t worry, I'm discreet.''

The next afternoon, you found yourself in the library. It was far from your apartment and your school, which reduced the chance of running into an unrequired acquaintance.

''Look at this, doesn't it look interesting ?''

You extended a book about something called 'The Super-Collider'. 

''That's basically a particle collider right ?'' You added as Miles grabbed the heavy textbook.

The taller boy nodded, peeking at the back cover.

''Yes, it uses electromagnetic fields to speed up charged particles. And-

''Eventually, pull or join different objects coming from different dimensions,'' you finished, scratching your chin as you wondered about something. You didn't notice Miles' amazed expression. 

''You know what it is ?''

You looked at him as if he was crazy.

''Of course, didn't you watch The Flash ?''

His excitation vanished and you received silence as an answer.

''I'm joking, I'm just really interested in physics,'' you said pivoting back to the bookshelf and searching for another work that could be useful.

''Oh...I didn't know that. I wanna study in that field later.''

Your widened eyes shifted back to him.

''What, you literally hate phys-'' you stopped as remembered who you were with and you shook your head embarrassed. ''Nevermind.....It's nice to have someone who likes it like me.''

You couldn't help the thrill that invaded you. Your ex would always joke about your interests in physics and eventually, you stopped talking about it. So seeing this new Miles show interest brought a certain warm feeling to your stomach. You didn't know what it was, but the longer you were with the boy, the more interesting you found him. You had found a special chemistry with him and it's like you two had always been friends.

You liked that sensation.

''I was wondering, are particle accelerators the reason why you are here ?"

The taller twisted his mouth to the side.

''Uh...not really? It's part of the reason though. Some type of butterfly effect,'' he finished as you opened another book. You simply hummed not pushing too much on the object. It didn't look like he wanted to talk much about it.

''I think we have enough for now. Let's buy them !''

You gazed at the raindrops interrupting the peaceful reflection of your face on the blurry window. It was particularly cold today, gray clouds snatching the sunrays from the city while its people ran down the streets to cover themselves from the water. To you, the scenery was simply gloomy.

A usual rainy day in Brooklyn.

You jumped as the doorbell of the store rang, pulling you out of your train of thought. You relaxed after realizing it was only a client. You were only 3 in the shop. You being the cashier, the man who had just crossed the door and Miles hanging upside down next to you while playing a ball.

''What's up with you? You've been daydreaming since morning.''

It had been 3 weeks since this Miles arrived from Earth 1610 and you had nearly spent all of your time with him. 

Well, it's not as if you had a choice since he lived in your apartment, but it didn't change the you two had gotten extremely close. You were hanging out every day. One time at the coffee shop and another time watching a movie while trying hairstyles on his hair. Just like yesterday.

You couldn't deny your attachment that had grown for him. Hell, just thinking about him made your heart flutter and you would find yourself stuck with a stupid grin on your lips.

At first, you kept comparing him with your ex. His accent, his gesture, what he liked and what he disliked. He didn't speak as much Spanish, he wasn't as mysterious and cold. But as time passed, you found yourself more and more drawn by this new Miles. He was more expressive, affectionate, supportive and careful with you. He knew how to make you laugh no matter the situation and you two shared multiple interests. 

You weren't oblivious. You quickly understood that the boy was slowly stealing your heart. But that doesn't mean you were ready for it.

You were used to feeling love with pain. To push and pull kind of relationship. To toxic and aggressive feelings. To spend the night worrying about your lover and only to find him bleeding the next day. To cry alone at night then drown your sadness in your boyfriend's arms for a few minutes before you had to separate again to go to school. 

But with Mile Morales, everything was different. It was sweet, warm and solacing. He was always next to you at night and he was careful with you in daylight. You felt protected and you weren't sleeping next to a criminal anymore. 

This was so different, but you liked it.

''I just didn't get much sleep last night.'' 

The taller jumped back to his feet before getting closer to you. He looked at your face carefully, worry painted all over his own features.

''I shouldn't have kept you up all night, sorry.''

You looked up at him with a chuckle before flicking his forehead softly.

''No, it was funny. You looked really cute with those coloured rubber bands in those cornrows I did,'' you teased, facing him.

He frowned before a tiny pout took over his mouth. It was nearly imperceptible but it was there.

''I looked like a kid. How am I supposed to be big and scary with that in my hair.''

You burst out laughing, the memory from last night coming back to you. You had told him you would braid his hair since he wanted to try something new but he ended up removing them because 'they were too tight, and his scalp was too soft for all that'. You knew he just wanted to remove the rubber bands.

''I'm still mad at you for destrpying my beautiful work.''

He smirked getting closer, reducing the space between you two.

''Don't be upset tesoro, what will I do if you are mad at me ?''

Your heart skipped a beat at the nickname, like it had done for the past weeks, and you looked away, to hide your shy smile. However, before you could answer, you heard a gun cocking right in front of you.

You slowly looked up, to find a riffle pointed right to your face. Your heart dropped as you failed to understand whatever the client from earlier was screaming.

''Open the cash register and gimme the bills,'' when he noticed your lack of reaction, he brought the gun closer to your forehead. ''Hurry the fuck up !''

However, before the stranger could try anything else, the gun was knocked out of his hands and his arms were joined together by web.

Everything passed in a flash and Miles quickly neutralize him and called the police. And if he gave a few unnecessary punches to the man, as he was already tied up, you didn't mention it. It was Miles' way to get back at the man and make him regret pointing his gun at you.

Before you could even realize what happened, the boy was in front of you, holding you tight by the elbow, checking up on you for the second time in less than 10 minutes.

''How are you feeling,'' he whispered, his low voice vibrating in your ear.

''G-good.''

Your voice left you like a whisper, still shaken by the event.

You had encountered multiple... ominous situations in this city. But being held at gunpoint and knowing your life was in the hands of a stranger was different. You realized how lucky you were to have Miles at your side at this exact moment and your eyes watered.

The boy read right through the facade you were trying to keep up, as he noticed your shivering and wrapped his arms around your shoulders, dragging you against himself.

''Come here precious.''

You tightened your hands around the low of his back, losing yourself in the warmness and the comfort of his embrace. You felt safe and the panic was slowly soothed away from you.

''Feeling better ?''

You nodded, slowly, face still hidden nestled in the crook of his neck.

''How come there's so much crime in this city,'' he sighed, caressing the back of your neck to bring you more comfort.

''We don't have Spiderman here, you know,'' you muttered, finally finding the energy to spill some words.

Your words were muffled by his skin and you felt him shiver at the sensation of your lips against his neck.

''Right.''

You expected him to laugh at your words so you looked up at him, frown plastered on your face.

''Are you mad ?''

His expression softened when he noticed you scowl and he shook his head.

''No,'' he rested his chin on top of your head. ''I just don't like the idea of you living all these years without anyone to protect you.''

You ignored the butterflies that invaded your stomach as his sentence, your lips growing into a grin against the crook of his neck.

''I'm not a damsel in distress.''

Miles only hummed, not letting go of you.

''Yeah, if you say so, preciosa.''

Everything was going perfectly. You and Miles were slowly finding more clues on how to send him back to Earth 1610 and by then, old Miles was already far in your memory.

You couldn't but wonder how unusual that was. You weren't used to just living peacefully. There was always something going on.

And you weren't wrong to feel so suspicious.

You were walking down the street as it was getting darker outside. 

Again.

You had to stay a few more hours at school to finish a group project and you hadn't realized how much time had passed. You cursed under your breath, remembering what happened the last time you found yourself walking for such an hour outside.

Not wanting to get in such a situation again, you accelerated until you arrived on the street where you live. You sighed, relieved, but before you could take your keys, a large hand caught your elbow, dragging you into the alley behind your apartment. You were pinned against the bricked wall and clenched your eyes shut, groaning at the impact.

What's with the people of this city and walls? Damn.

However, when you glanced at whoever seized you so brutally, your heart sank. You had completely forgotten about him and you had never expected him to come back.

''Miles.''

Your ex smirked staring up and down at your silhouette before licking his lips. A shiver travelled down your body at his action.

''Happy to see me mami ?''

You two made eye contact and you were hauled. His gaze was still as piercing as you remembered and it brought back unwanted memories. However, you suddenly blinked, waking up from your stupor and averted your eyes from the imposing male. Your expression turned sour and you tried to push him away, unsuccessfully.

''Leave me alone, Morales.''

He chuckled, taking a step forward to reduce the space between both of your bodies.

''So that's what we are doing now ?''

You kept your lips sealed and turned your head to the side as an answer. However, his fingers slid behind your neck, using his thumb to shift your head back to him.

''Look at me when I talk to you.''

''What do you want ?''

He rose his eyebrow at the dryness of your tone, still not used to such an attitude from you.

''I don't need a reason to see yah princesa.''

''I don't have time for this, move.''

Miles clenched his jaw, his eyes hardening at your words.

''Watch your tone.''

''Or what ?'' you raised your eyebrow at him with a bored expression. Two months ago, you would have never talked to him like that. But right now, you couldn't care less. You wanted to go home, take a shower and cuddle with your Miles. You were too tired for all that.

Your ex-boyfriend visibly took a deep breath and closed his eyes to calm himself down. You could see the frustration growing in him. But you didn't expect what he would say next.

''Who's that guy you've been hanging out with lately ?''

You froze at the question.

''What the- have you been following me ?''

''I asked you a question,'' Miles repeated louder this time.

''It's none of your business.''

''I'm being nice and you don't wanna try me. I don't like you talking to other guys and you know that.''

You scoffed at his nerve. Why was he acting like you were his or something?

''What part don't you understand in 'we're done' ?''

He took a deep breath and pinched his nose.

''Look, I fucked up mami. Lo sé and I hate myself for it. But I let you have some space for two months already, te necesito.''

''Miles, I don't love you anymore.''

He froze for a second but you could see him gulp slowly.

''I know you, stop playing hard to get.''

You rested your hand against your forehead tired of this situation already. 

''Are you being serious ?'' he asked again in disbelief.

But instead of answering, you pushed him back and this time, he didn't resist. 

''I'm leaving.''

''Where do you think you are going ?''

''Hopefully to my new boyfriend,'' you answered. Being honest was probably the only way to force him away from you.

''You don't want to do this,'' he said darkly. He clenched his jaw and rubbed his hand on his chin. You had never seen him so mad. ''I'm warning you.''

You shook your head with a sigh before ignoring him and entering your apartment. You knew he was saying empty words. Your ex would never dare to hurt you directly. He could cheat, and lie but never harm you intentionally.

That's what you thought at least.

Arriving in your room, you find your new Miles sitting at your desk, sketching something on a sheet. 

''Preciosa, you are finally here.''

You nodded with a tired smile.

''You're not sleeping yet ?''

He shook his head, leaning back on the chair and spreading his leg to be more comfortable. ''Nah, was waiting for you."

You raised an eyebrow at his position before throwing a shoe at him that he easily caught with one hand.

''Stop the manspreading in my room.''

He laughed before telling you to come closer. You obeyed and your eyes fell on the drawing he was making. 

It was you.

And it was you in a way you had never seen before. You looked...magnificent.

Your breath got stuck in your throat and couldn't help but wonder if that's how the boy saw you. 

All the stress you got from meeting your ex evaporated from your body as you sat on Miles' thighs and one of his hands rested on yours.

''It's beautiful.''

He hummed. ''When the muse is already gorgeous, it makes everything easier.''

Your heart jumped at the compliment and you pressed your head against his, running your thumb down his cheek as he kept drawing.

''Careful, you'll make my fro flat,'' the boy muttered, still focused on his sketch.

''I'll brush it out for you later,'' you giggled, continuing your ministration on his face.

A few more seconds passed and only the soft sound of a pencil running on paper filled the silence surrounding you. All until the boy broke the ice.

''I've always wanted to ask but...what's your relationship with Miles from here ?''

You gulped at this sudden question. Did he saw...what happened outside?

''Why you wanna know that ?''

Noticing your defensive reaction, he shook his head softly.

''Hey, I'm not forcing you to tell me, I was just wondering since you know...he never tried to contact you since I arrived. I kind of assumed you two were close since you recognized me in my suit. ''

You relaxed at his explanation.

''Oh, uh we were friends, but we had an argument and haven't really talked since.''

You didn't want to think about the guy anymore and ruin this wonderful moment. You hoped your Miles wouldn't mind the white lie you had just spitted out. 

Hopefully, the taller didn't seem to question you more and quickly changed the conversation.

It had been two weeks since your encounter with your ex and everything was going better than ever. Your mom had just left for a trip and the house was left to you and Miles. You woke up to the sound of the plate coming from the kitchen.

Loud sounds.

When you arrived in the living room, you found Miles throwing water in a pan which contained burning eggs. Your mouth dropped.

''What are you doing ?''

He jumped at the sound of your voice before placing his hand on his chest right over his heart.

''Shit, don't scare me like that.'' He then looked at the mess he had created and scratched the back of his neck. ''Uh...I was trying to make breakfast.''

You looked at him, still devoid of words before bursting out laughing.

''And you managed to burn eggs? How do you even burn eggs ?''

You shook your head taking the pan out of his and putting it in the sink.

''What I am going to do with your Miles.''

He pouted following closely behind you like a lost puppy.

''It's the meaning that matters ?''

You glared at him before seeing the opened bag of flour next to you. You smirked before grabbing some and throwing it in his face.

''Hey !''

He retaliated by taking the closest thing to him, which was a raw egg and throwing it on your shirt.

A gasp was heard.

''You did not just do that.''

''Oh, I did. ''

Soon, it turned into a food war, and your enjoyment could be heard by the mix of yells and laughers coming from the kitchen. Out of nowhere, Miles caught the back of your thighs and sat you on the table, before resting between your legs.

''Caught you.''

You laughed gaily, before getting closer to his face with a raised eyebrow.

''What do you want champion? A kiss as a price ?''

Yet, instead of joking back as you expected, the boy only gulped. That's when you noticed the small space separating both of your faces. 

You liked your lips, anxious at his silence and his eyes followed your tongue before slowly travelling back to your nose and your eyelashes. He then closed his eye and shook his head to compose himself.

''The stuff you make me think, preciosa.''

Your mouth dried out at his words and you bit your lips.

''Like what ?''

''I can't say it.''

He averted his eyes from you once again but you stopped him before he could lean away.

''Then show me,'' you whispered.

He widened his eyes as his breath brushed against your lips. You saw as he tried to hold himself back but the intense burning in his eyes showed you that he wanted exactly what you wanted.

''Fuck it.''

He leaned down and crashed his lips onto yours and you automatically responded, sighing in delight.

Finally.

Your lips moved in synchronization and you felt euphoric. After a few seconds, he leaned away, his dark eyes travelling onto your face as if he wanted to capture to moment and carve it in his mind forever.

''You don't know how much I've wanted this."

''Me too,'' you whispered before your mouths found each other again.

You kissed and kissed. For how long, you didn't know. But all you knew is that it felt too good and it only felt like a few seconds before you separated again.

Miles licked his lips and let out a breath.

''That was -wow.''

''Yeah...'' you whispered trying to catch your breath, a bit dazzled by what had just happened.

''I made you this breathless already,'' he laughed before you punched him on the shoulder.

''Shut up !''

He laughed and wrapped his arms around your waist.

''I would love to kiss you more, but I think we need to clean this up first.''

You followed his eyes and noticed the mess you two had created.

''Yeah...''

He carried you back on the floor and you two got to work. Eventually, you realized you needed more cleaning products and you went to the store while he continued cleaning.

On the way, you kept touching your lower lip with a stupid smile stuck on your face. Miles made you feel all sorts of things and infatuation was the main one. You were already excited to get back home and continue the unfinished business.

The trip to get more cleaning products was fast and soon, you were back at your apartment.

But bliss goes away as fast as it comes, doesn't it ?

When you opened the door to your apartment to find that the living room was a mess. 

But not the mess you had left in the kitchen. 

A people having a physical fight kind of a mess. The armchair was knocked down, the table was broken and the pillows were ripped. 

''Miles ?'' you yelled but received no answer.

Your heart raced as you rushed to look in the different rooms of your home, but there wasn't any living soul.

What the heck was happening?

When you arrived in your room, there was still no one.

But as you were going back to the kitchen, something caught your attention from the corner of your eye. It was a note on your window. 

Exactly like the one your ex used to leave.

From afar, you could even recognize his writing. You snatched it and for the first time, you decided to read it.

Your heart sank at the words.

''I warned you.''

Don't hesitate to comment or reblog, I read everything <33

Tags : @vodoo-heart , @solanawrld , @evermorewest @usernamepasswordsstuff @spidersbbg @reds-mp3 @fisch-staebchen @ueexj @hey-girl-hey @thisaccountisrandomsstuff @flwrdia @dayedreamm @inluvwithneteyam @slut4shuri @sakura-onesan @acezeyez @x-starxi @mythhayden @imagineme2you @supremeshrimpy2 @glads-stuff @ptsmplekaramele @linlikesyouhihi @gispams @luxraine @ladylovegood-69 @copypastedaphne @mr-trick @nikotokitaswife @yuimkzz @ohdearmaggie @aspenreadsfanfic @isa-444 @optimisticprime3 @alliumiae @gnomelover1 @ilovemilesmoralesstuff @blueladys-world @erensbbg @xxxsecuritybreach @laylasbunbunny @lyra-ferreira @itsmadamehydra @blueberryhitosh1  @nana-luvsyu @kimchikim @teamowolverine @ladylovegood-69 @shoyofroyoyoyo @venusluvslove @sukisprettyface @planetliaa @ilovestilesstilinskimorethenyou @glqmmywhqmmy @locace @whoisgami @cherriqpans @mresedmunson Tell me if you wanna be kept or removed from the tag list ^^

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[animeomegas]

The Quest for a Second Life - Part 6 - 50 Shades of Audacity (2)

KAKASHI x ALPHA!READER

Summary: An office scandal, the start of your gold digging arc, and a mysterious house in the countryside... It still annoyed you that you had to have a job, but honestly, it could have been worse. This was kind of exciting! GN!Dom!Alpha!Reader x Multiple

Word count: 8.7k

Warnings: N-sfw content, workplace violations, vague discussion of canon specific suicide, playful smacking, playful physical restraint. All alphas have dicks, fyi.

A/N: Hey! We're rapidly reaching the end of this story now! Only one more chapter before the epilogue, crazy! Time has flown. Happy holidays to everyone, especially @omeganronpa who is working so hard, hopefully a break is coming soon 😖 Not much porn in this one, as I'm saving it for the finale. Enjoy~

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Epilogue

Going for a Sunday drive was always a nice way to spend a morning. Well, it wasn’t Sunday and technically you weren’t driving, but the point still stood.

You had your nose basically glued to the window as the unfamiliar city sights bled into an equally unfamiliar, but timeless countryside. Fields, animals, trees, they all rushed past, familiar and new in the same breath. You were pleasantly surprised that this erotica world city didn’t have suburbs; who knew you just had to die to benefit from good city planning?

Kakashi’s fancy car was growing on you too, with its heated seats and spacious leg room, and you couldn’t deny that it was also having an impact on how much you were enjoying this drive. It even had six cupholders. Six. Kakashi didn’t even have that many friends in total, but even having the choice to have six beverages felt like a luxury experience.

Kakashi was also in his fancy car, of course, but he was considerably less interested in the view, and more interested in the paperwork he’d brought along. What a boring place to put one’s attention; you needed to rectify that immediately.

“If you could pick one of your dogs to magically learn English, who would you pick?” His pen not even slowing for a moment, Kakashi answered with no hesitation.

“Anyone but Pakkun.”

Hmm, maybe a harder question would work?

“What’s 472 + 9012?”

“9484.”

Something shocking perhaps?

“Does your pubic hair also defy gravity?”

“No comment.”

Oh, something weird would surely get his attention!

“If I were a worm, would you still love me?”

“No.”

You huffed, sinking down into your heated seat. He hadn’t even paused in the paperwork, so your plan had thoroughly failed. You wondered why Kakashi, a man you’d seen climb out of a window to avoid a work meeting once, was now diligently completing paperwork when he had a good excuse not to. Whatever, he’d probably already procrastinated on it enough that Iruka had threatened him into finishing it. No one ignored direct instructions from Iruka, even though he wasn’t technically high up enough to give instructions at all.

You sighed, turning back to the window to keep yourself amused, acknowledging that you’d lost the battle for Kakashi’s attention to his paperwork. Maybe it was the effect of the car journey, or maybe you were just sappy, but you quickly found yourself reminiscing.

Two weeks ago, you never would have imagined being here with him like this. It was almost difficult to wrap your head around how much your relationship had changed in such a short amount of time, how comfortable you’d both become with each other. Kakashi still took his role as ‘professional nuisance’ seriously of course, revelling in winding you up as what seemed like his main past time and hobby.

He was also still late to meetings, refused to do work, skipped lunch if you didn’t bring it to him… Okay, so maybe not that much had changed. But hey, you kissed frequently now, that was new! And your name was also currently the hottest topic in every break room at work.

That very first day after the tryst in Kakashi’s office had to have been your favourite in terms of gossip shockwaves. It had turned out that Kakashi did have another spare shirt for you to wear home after both your shirt and his first spare had been ruined, and the next morning, groggy and tired, you grabbed it to wear to work without thinking about what you were doing.

You had known that there was gossip about you and Kakashi leaving work together, but apparently the security guard’s version of events, that you had both come back to work together after hours, you without a shirt, and then locked yourself in his office, was in hot debate. Many refused to believe that terminal bachelor Kakashi Hatake would ever sleep with his secretary. ‘Something out of a bad porn book’, you had heard multiple times. How ironic.

So, when you walked in late, wearing Kakashi’s shirt, you corroborated the security guard’s story and confirmed the rumours all at once.

The break room fell silent the second you walked in, even though it had been filled with loud debate moments before. Everyone turned to look at you. Have you ever lifted a rock and had all the bugs underneath it suddenly freeze? It felt like that.

“Good morning,” you said, shooting everyone a hesitant smile. “Sorry I’m a bit late today.”

You watched as everyone’s eyes flickered from your face, down to your shirt, and then up to your face again. The room was uncomfortably silent.

Suddenly Asuma cheered, and chaos descended on the room. Not everyone seemed as thrilled as Asuma though. Kurenai only sighed and passed Asuma a handful of cash. Anko did the same, but with significantly more swearing and threats towards his delicate parts.

(You would find out later that Asuma had seen the security footage of your interview and had proceeded to make many, many bets that you and Kakashi would be fucking within a week. Because of Kakashi’s ‘no dating’ reputation, you were sure he had raked in a significant amount.)

Iruka’s face went bright red, and he sputtered for a moment before turning around and pretending to organise the mug cupboard. He did not succeed in hiding the small bit of blood now dripping from his nose.

In contrast to Iruka’s not so subtle hiding, Gai came right up to you and thumped you on the back, shouting about youth.

Yamato only stared at you, his already large eyes wider than normal. You weren’t sure what emotion he was embodying, but it was certainly creepy.

Maybe it was best if you just went to your desk?

Just as you turned to leave, Gai had one more final thing to say.

“I hope your love blossoms with intensity!” he said, giving you a thumbs up.

Why did that feel like he was giving you permission to fuck Kakashi?

People did slowly get used to the idea that you and Kakashi were something more than coworkers. It helped that you had lunch together most days, which gave people a chance to get used to seeing you together.

On days where your schedules didn’t align for lunch though, you made a point to grab dinner together. Your favourite by far had been dinner at his penthouse flat. Not only was that the night where you’d first called Kakashi your boyfriend, but it was also the first time you were introduced to his dogs.

It felt strange to be walking through a block of flats that was so fancy. The lobby had looked like something from a 5-star hotel, and you had had to show your ID before the front desk would let you upstairs, even though Kakashi had informed them that you’d be coming. Security reasons, they had said. You wondered what other high-profile people lived here.

Kakashi had the penthouse flat, so his was the only one on the top floor. You exited the lift and were immediately confronted with his front door. It wasn’t quite as big as the door in the library you had chosen his story from, but it was still an impressive size.

If you were being honest, it was a little intimidating.

The intimidation factor was shattered as soon as you knocked on the door however, because the second your fist made contact with the wood, a cacophony of barking sounded from the other side.

“Yes, yes, I’m going, you can stop barking.” You could faintly hear Kakashi’s voice through the door. “Bisuke! Get off there!”

The barking still continued.

“Sit, sit. All of you sit! I mean it, or you won’t be getting any treats today.”

Slowly, the barking and the sound of claws clacking ceased, and suddenly the door was pulled open. Standing there, in all his homey glory, was Kakashi.

You were used to seeing him exclusively dressed in suits, but he was wearing lounge clothes. Lounge clothes! Uptight, always ready for a fancy restaurant Kakashi, was wearing a grey tracksuit, with a long-sleeved top in dark blue, and fluffy slippers.

A smile grew on your face; perhaps you were biased, but these suited him a lot more. They still looked expensive, but they were just so much cosier than his normal get up. It made you want to hug him. You resisted for a moment before remembering what world you were in and what the point of this whole second life thing was, and then your resistance crumbled into nothing.

You threw yourself at him for a hug.

“Oof.” Kakashi floundered in surprise for a moment, but when you didn’t let go, he tentatively patted you on the back. You giggled and squeezed him harder, burying your face into his neck.

There were no scent patches! He wasn’t wearing scent patches! Giddy, you took a deep breath of his scent, letting it fill and sit in your lungs. Yes, he smelt utterly delicious.

Kakashi put his hands on your upper arms and gently tugged you away from him. His face was bright red. You could almost see steam coming out of his ears. You laughed at him but decided to show mercy and not tease him over his obvious bashfulness. You instead turned your attention to his dogs.

They were all sitting together to your right, tails wagging furiously. You could tell that if they had been any less well trained, they’d have been jumping all over you.

You opened your bag and pulled out a little something that you’d brought to make sure they liked you. When the dogs caught sight of the McDonald’s bag, their excitement obviously got too much to contain, because they all ran over to your feet, a couple jumping up at you, a couple barking, all looking eager to get their hands on the carroty goodness.

Kakashi, although you could tell he was amused, stepped in to corral his little gremlins. God, he was such a dog dad.

You had received copious wet kisses that day, mostly from the dogs, but also from a sappy Kakashi who had seemed utterly thrilled that you and his dogs got along.

You had had to make and study flash cards to remember all his dogs’ names, but Kakashi’s genuine smile as he watched you interact with them made it all worth it.

You had also met Charlie, Kakashi’s personal chef that evening.

The presence of his personal chef didn’t surprise you. What surprised you was when said chef made dinner for the dogs and then immediately left, leaving Kakashi to cook for you and him. It was exactly that abrupt, and you had laughed until you cried. Of course, he hired a personal chef just for his dogs. He spoilt them rotten.

You were sceptical as to how much skill he would have in the kitchen, but he produced a delicious meal with little trouble. It made you warm that Kakashi was so enthusiastic about cooking dinner you.

Cooking wasn’t the only way he was spoiling you though; he seemed incredibly willing to flash his cash for you, much to your delight.

“Have you considered a top hat?” you asked, picking up the worst top hat you’d ever seen and holding it up as a suggestion. Kakashi gave you a flat look. “What? If this Autumn Company Party thing is so important, you need to make an impression, and this hat would certainly make an impression!”

“I don’t want to make the kind of impression that has my board of directors attempting to oust me from the company.” He took the hat and placed it back on the rack.

“Fine.” You rolled your eyes. “If you didn’t want my fashion advice, why did you even bring me along to pick your outfit? I could have just waited in the car.”

The attendant that was serving you walked back into the room with a selection of ties based on Kakashi’s preferences. He laid them out on the stool for him to peruse. He had already witnessed a great deal of your banter, but if he was surprised by it, then he was too professional to let that show.

“You’re my personal assistant.”

You flicked the tie he was currently wearing up into his face. “That doesn’t mean I need to watch you pick out ties, asshole.”

Kakashi flicked you on the forehead in turn, rolling his eyes as he always did. “No, I mean that you’ll have to attend the party with me, and I figured you would need a new outfit. As you said, it’s important to make an impression, especially as this will be your debut of sorts.”

You snorted, pulling at one of the price tags of a nearby shirt. “Not in here, thanks. Just reading these numbers is making my bank account cry, I can’t imagine what buying them would do to it.”

Kakashi watched you for a moment, before he stuck his hand into his pocket. Out came his wallet.

‘James? Is what I think is happening, actually happening?’

‘I believe you are about to reach a major milestone in your goal to become a ‘gold digger’, human. My soul is warmed by your success, may it be prosperous and eternal.’

‘Thanks, James, that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.’

Just as you predicted, Kakashi slipped his card out from his wallet and handed it to you. “Buy whatever you need, I can’t have my assistant looking shabby now, can I?”

You could imagine this scene in other stories, stories where you weren’t the lead. The MC would decline, either out of bashfulness or a sense of pride. Kakashi would probably then insist, and maybe MC would feel obliged to agree, but they would slip outside and purchase the outfit from a cheaper shop down the road to make a point. And then Kakashi would swoon because MC is ‘not like other alphas’.

You were the lead in this story though, so you took the card immediately, grinning from ear to ear.

“Fuck yes,” you said under your breath. Kakashi snorted, but he looked amused, not offended, by the way you were treating his money. “I’m going to dress up like royalty.”

You scurried off into your preferred section of the shop, Kakashi’s card clutched tightly in your grasp. You eagerly rifled through the racks. At several moments, you got the feeling that you were being watched, but whenever you looked back, Kakashi was fully focused on shopping. Maybe you were imagining it?

The Autumn Company Party had been coming up a lot. It was clearly the climax of the plot, but unlike Itachi’s story, you weren’t really sure what the plot was. James had no idea what would be happening at the party either, just that something would happen, and whatever that something was, it was heavily influenced by your actions. You had originally been apprehensive, but you figured that for a porn story, it couldn’t be anything too bad, so you focused on your excitement about attending such a fancy work party. You’d bet the hors d’oeuvres were going to change your life.

(You were confident because you had been the one in charge of choosing the catering company and the menu. Your job was pretty fun at times, even if your true career calling was independently wealthy.)

In between the planning for the party, your physical relationship with Kakashi had also developed over the last fortnight.

“You’re needy tonight,” you teased, curling your fingers just right. Kakashi shivered.

“On the contrary, you need to shut up.”

You tutted, “That wasn’t your best work.”

“Forgive me; I’m a little preoccupied.” You took that as an invitation to press at his prostate as hard as you could. Kakashi face screwed up in pleasure, and he made no more comments.

“Wow, who knew that you had an off switch this whole time? If I’d had known this little bundle of nerves had such an effect, my interview would have gone very differently.”

“The more time I spend with you, the less I’m surprised that you were single when we met.”

“Asshole.”

That had been during his first visit to your flat. You had the strange impression that he felt more comfortable in your home than his own, for some reason. Regardless, that night was the first time you’d gone all the way.

“Are you ready?” you asked, kissing on his collar bones to distract yourself from his tight warmth, and how much you really wanted to move.

“I was ready ten minutes ago. I’m not going to break the second you put any pressure on me, or in me, as it were.” Kakashi purposely clenched around you causing you to hiss. “Get on with it.”

You pulled away and narrowed your eyes at him. He only raised an eyebrow in response. Fine, if he wanted it rough, you’d give it to him rough.

…

“Fuck, I’m tired,” you said, flopping back onto the bed, exhausted. Kakashi looked much the same, panting hard from exertion.  

“You took the words right out of my mouth,” he replied.

“…”

“…”

“Second round in the shower?”

“Obviously.”

Now that had been a fun night. Your activities didn’t stay exclusively in the bedroom though. You had quickly found that not only did Kakashi like it when you took control in social situations, like ordering for him at restaurants, he also liked it when you lightly teased him in public.

Nothing too extreme, of course, as there was a chance that such a thing would literally end up in the news if you were caught, but you had both made a game of seeing how many dirty messages you could hide in the other’s paperwork. You were winning, although the scores were close.

You were so glad that Kakashi’s morning meeting was being held in one of the rooms made entirely of glass. It meant that, although you weren’t in the meeting, you still had a prime view to Kakashi’s reaction when he inevitably found the note you had hidden in his folder.

You watched as Kakashi continued his speech to the board of directors, reaching for his folder to check something.

Oh, there, he was opening his folder!

The cover flipped open and Kakashi froze for only a moment, before he continued like nothing had happened.

You were impressed by his ability to keep his cool, you had to admit, but you still noticed the way his hand shook ever so slightly, as he snuck the note out of the folder and into his pocket without anyone noticing.

When the meeting finished, Kakashi walked straight back over to you, dropping the note in question on your desk.

“You’re incorrigible.” There was the slightest pink to his cheeks.

“So, you don’t want a rimjob?”

Kakashi gave you one of his signature flat looks, although the pink tinge ruined it somewhat, and wordlessly walked into his office, leaving you fruitlessly supressing your cackles.

To sum it up, you really liked him, and it was clear that he really liked you. You had seen his home, met his dogs, eaten his food, and seen flashes of the complexity bubbling just below Kakashi’s purposefully distant exterior.

In a moment of surprising seriousness, Gai had vigorously shaken your hand yesterday and told you that he’d never seen Kakashi as light and happy as he’d been these last few weeks. It was nice to hear.

You still didn’t like the fact that you had to work, but again, the job could have been a lot worse, and you were playing the long game. Technically, you were working right now, but Kakashi had asked you to accompany him on a mini road trip into the surrounding countryside. The days where Kakashi took you with him out of the office were your favourite, but today something was off. You had tired to write off Kakashi’s out of character behaviour as him just having an off day, but there was something about it that was really putting you on edge.

It was like he was trying to distract himself with the paperwork. You wondered if this meant his backstory reveal was coming up. Itachi had started behaving strangely when his worries about you rejecting him for his past were about to make themselves known. Maybe Kakashi’s backstory had something to do with where you were going.

Apparently, you were going to visit a house. Kakashi had mentioned that one of his properties (one of them, pfft, rich kid) required some maintenance. According to him, the roof had been damaged in a storm a few weeks earlier, and he needed to prepare the house for the builders to carry out repairs. Kakashi had described your tasks as mainly including clearing space for scaffolding, cleaning and packing away the breakables in the main rooms, and plugging in the fridge so the builders could store their lunches and have milk for beverages.

They didn’t seem like the kind of tasks that would cause a significant amount of stress. If he was doing things like packing away valuables and plugging in the fridge, it was probably a place he lived, rather than a rental or something. Maybe it was a summer home? You supposed that Kakashi was a very private person, so maybe he was on edge at the thought of having a load of strangers in his house without supervision.

Hmm, that sounded too simple for this universe though. You were due a backstory exposition scene, and maybe you spent too much time reading erotica, but this felt like it had ‘tragic backstory incoming’ written all over it.

“So, this place we’re going… is it a summer home? Oh! Or a summer estate? Is it a mansion? Does it have a pool, and can I use it?”

Kakashi didn’t take the obvious banter bait, he just kept his head down and continued signing documents, providing a short, factual answer.

“It’s none of those things, nor does it have a pool.”

“Aww.” You tried to play up your sadness with a pout. “I was excited.”

“Doesn’t your complex have a swimming pool?”

“I mean, yeah, technically, but this would be a private swimming pool, that’s way better.”

Kakashi chuckled, but his heart didn’t seem in it. You put a hand on his knee and squeezed. He looked surprised for a moment, before his face melted into something softer. He took the hand in his and gave it a squeeze in return.

“If it makes you feel better, the property does have a habitat for racing pigeons.”

“Wha—Really?!”

“No.”

“…”

“…”

“I hate you so much.”

…

As the car turned off the main road, you pressed your face back against the window to ooh and ahh at the sights. The road was less maintained and significantly bumpier, but you didn’t let the risk of a concussion stop you from your sightseeing.

There were bushes and flowers and pretty trees lining each edge of the road, and one more turn had you going down what looked like a private road, or dare you say it, a driveway. At this point, you were kind of expecting a mansion, no matter what Kakashi said. What other homes had long private roads? Unless it was some kind of farmhouse? You couldn’t imagine Kakashi owning a farm, but his name did mean scarecrow, so perhaps he’d purchased it as a joke? Did rich people buy property for jokes?

As the car slowly turned one last time, the house in question crept into view. It was neither a farmhouse nor a summer estate. No, it was a traditional, single story, Japanese minka house, set amongst a beautiful and equally traditional garden, framed by beautiful trees, all of which were orange and red and practically screamed Autumn.

The house was large, but not excessively so. At a glance, you would assume it had three to four bedrooms. The roof was sloped and covered in worn shingles, stretching out to shelter the sprawling engawa. Wood and stone materials were used heavily in the walls and decorations, and lamps hung from both sides of the front door. It was beautiful.

You were out of the car the second it stopped.

Now that you were walking up to it, you could see the stone pathways, the koi pond, the sliding glass door at the side, and the shutters on the windows. It was a minka house, but it had clearly been modernised.

You heard the sound of two car doors opening and closing and figured that Kakashi and his chauffeur had joined you in front of the house.

“This is completely gorgeous! I’ve never seen a modernised minka house before. If it’s not a summer home, what is it for?” There was no response, so you turned, breaking eye contact with the beautiful house to search for him. “Kakashi?”

He was standing a few paces behind you, just staring at the house in silence.

“Kakashi—”

“Let’s get everything out of the car,” he mumbled, cutting you off and turning away from the house.

“Kakashi—”

“There isn’t that much; we could probably carry it all in in one trip.”

His tone made it clear that he wasn’t interested in answering your question. You trusted that the narrative would push you into finding out what was wrong when the time was right, so for now, you broke the trance the house had on you, and helped to unpack the boot.

The supplies in the boot took the form of cleaning products, empty boxes, and a few bags of groceries and kitchen supplies. Between the three of you, it was light work, and soon everything was resting on the engawa, ready to be moved inside.

Having other duties to attend to, the chauffeur took his leave once everything was out of the car, leaving you and Kakashi standing in front of the house, side by side. You awkwardly waited for him to unlock the door, but he didn’t seem interested in moving.

You cleared your throat, “Um, should we go in?”

Kakashi jolted like a doll suddenly coming to life and fished the key out of his pocket. He unlocked it, and the door swung open, creaking all the while.

“WD-40 who? This house doesn’t know her.”

He sighed, “Just go inside.”

“Alright, spoil sport.”

Kakashi held open the door and you went inside, slipping off your shoes in the entrance.

Inside, the house was… confusing.

Your eyes darted left and right, trying to understand what you were looking at. It was traditional but modernised with new appliances, not strange considering the outside of the house, but it looked distinctly like it had been modernised at least two decades ago. It was immaculately tidy, not single object out of place, and yet the entire thing was covered in a thick layer of dust. To make things more confusing, it looked lived it, personal, with clutter and photos, but it had an overwhelming air of abandonment.

As you said, it was confusing. Vibe check thoroughly failed.

“It’s… nice?” you said, hoping you could force your voice into something sincere. “Traditional modern vintage? Troderage? Vinadern? Whatever it is, it’s interesting, and I—”

Kakashi cut you off by placing a finger on your lips. He looked amused and exasperated all at the same time. You went cross eyed trying to look at the offending finger, which only seemed to amuse him more.

“You don’t have to find something nice to say, I’m aware that it’s seen better days.”

You went to bite his finger, so he tugged it away, leaving you to snap unsatisfyingly at empty air “Hey, I’m not lying! I like it, it has potential! And potential is the more important thing for a property in my opinion. Like, sure, you could buy one of those awful modern renovated homes with no personality, but if I wanted to live in a white monastery, I’d just—”

Kakashi took one of the masks he’d brought and pressed it over your mouth and then stretched the elastic over your ears to keep it in place, effectively cutting you off once again.

“You know I can still talk through these, right?” you asked, voice slightly muffled, but still clearly understandable. He passed you a dusting cloth and a bottle of unidentified cleaning spray.

“Just… clean. I’ll carry the boxes through and start packing, okay?”

“You’re not the boss of— Oh.” That’s right, he was literally our boss. Good job this was a porn world, because you had a feeling that real world HR wouldn’t approve.

You were rewarded with another one of his eyes smiles as he snapped his own mask into place. “Chop chop, dear assistant of mine.”

Ugh, fine, whatever. Kakashi went back out to the engawa, and you decided to start by dusting the mantel place. If you dusted the photos and ornaments first, which practically covered the mantel place, Kakashi could get started with packing them up.

You started at the left end and grabbed the first picture. Confusingly, it had been laying face down. You hesitated, wondering if it was something Kakashi explicitly didn’t want you to see. You felt drawn to it though. Was that just you being nosy, or was this some kind of hint from your porn logic overlords? Was it moral for you to look when—Too late you already grabbed it and flipped it over.

Philosophising took too long.

It was a photo of two people, obviously a father and son, sitting in the garden you’d just walked through. The sun was shining, and both people were covered in mud, clearly having just finished some gardening. It was a sweet picture, but more importantly you recognised the two people from your google searches.

It was a photo of a young Kakashi and his father. This was his—

A hand tugged the photo out of your hand. Kakashi.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t even think—”

“It’s fine.” His voice was short, but at least he didn’t sound angry.

“This was your family home, wasn’t it?” you asked softly.

Kakashi sighed, turning away from you to put the photo in one of the boxes. “In a way. Although I haven’t lived here since I was four.”

You put a comforting hand on his shoulder, wondering if this was where you were going to find out about Kakashi’s angst. The death of his father had definitely made an impact on him, but you had a suspicion that there was something more to his angst than that.

Kakashi looked as tightly coiled as a spring, though. You decided to wait until he was more relaxed before you tried coaxing his backstory out of him. Some cleaning would get his mind off things.

“Let’s start with the dusting!” you said, artificially injecting some chipperness into the conversation. You saw Kakashi’s shoulders lift as you stopped prying into his backstory. “You should be careful though.” Hook.

Kakashi looked confused. “What? Why?” Line.

“Because we won’t be able to tell if it gets in your hair, old man.” And Sinker.

Kakashi scowled and threw a dusting cloth at your face.

…

Kakashi warmed up again as you worked. It seemed to help him, having a job to focus on, and of course, you were doing your best to keep his spirits high as well.

And honestly, all the cleaning and mood management was well worth it to see his baby pictures! He didn’t have parents to show you, so you were taking it into your own hands. You avoided bringing attention to any that also contained his father, but there was still plenty to work with.

You squealed, pulling a photo of a tiny, grumpy Kakashi holding a freshly caught fish off the wall to dust. “Look how cute you were! You know how to fish? I’ll be honest, I didn’t imagine that as one of your skills.”

“Will you stop—” Kakashi said, plucking the picture from your hands and hanging back on the wall. “Do you have to put effort into being so nosy, or is it a natural born talent?”

“Completely natural.” You grinned and grabbed the photo back, giving it a quick dust and then putting it in the box of valuables, cooing all the while.

Kakashi rolled his eyes, but you could see the pink dusting his ears.

“Hey, here’s a question.”

“Can’t you just dust?”

“Why was the outside of the house so immaculate, when the inside looks like it hasn’t been touched in a decade?” you asked, taping up one box and grabbing another empty one.

“I hire a groundskeeper for the outside, but I personally clean the inside.”

Your face spoke for itself as you looked around the room, still half-covered in dust. Kakashi sheepishly rubbed the back of his head. “I haven’t done it for a couple of years, I admit.”

You laughed, grabbing the next photo to dust. It was another one of just Kakashi, although this time he was sitting behind a dog-shaped birthday cake, scowling at the camera.

“Did you ever smile?” you asked, holding up the photo. “Even now you don’t seem much better at it, always stone faced or rolling your eyes, do I have to teach you?”

You slid the photo under your arm so that your hands were free to push up Kakashi’s cheeks into a faux smile. You managed to hold his cheeks in a forced smile for a second, before Kakashi smacked your hands away, scowling. You sent him a cheeky grin, but he only yanked the photo out from under your arm and bent down to pack it away in a box.

What you did next, could hardly be held against you. You mean, it was right there, in all its glory: Kakashi’s toned but ample butt.

You pinched it.

Kakashi jumped before immediately standing and whirling around to face you. Your grin froze on your face as you noticed something intense flashing in his eyes, the kind of intense that promised revenge.

Oh, fuck.

You broke into a desperate run away from Kakashi, but he immediately gave chase. You ran around the coffee table and into the kitchen, thunderous footsteps sounding behind you. Your heart pounded and some hysterical giggles escaped as you ran through the second door in the kitchen, grateful that it wasn’t a dead end.

“Stop running and accept your fate!” Kakashi called from somewhere behind you.

“You’ll never take me alive!”

You ended up back in the living room, but you managed to catch Kakashi in a stalemate, with you standing behind the couch, and him standing in front of it. Every time he darted around one way, you went the other. You both stared at each other, watching for even the slightest hint of movement.

“If you give up now, I promise the punishment won’t be so bad,” Kakashi said with an unfairly attractive lilt.

“If you think I’m going to give in, then you’re as senile as the grey hair suggests, old man.” To further make your point, you gave him the middle finger. You weren’t really sure how this was going to end, because he would inevitably catch you, even if only because you arrived in his car, but you weren’t a quitter and you certainly didn’t surrender!

Kakashi chuckled, and then in a second, his whole body shot forward and the man leapt over the sofa towards you. You shrieked and continued running. Adrenaline pumping, you automatically ran towards the front door.

Unfortunately, all it took was one moment of weakness. There, in the doorway, you suddenly realised that you weren’t wearing shoes. You hesitated for only a moment, but that was all it took for Kakashi to catch up with you.

“Hidden technique: One Thousand Years of Death!”

There, in the doorway of Kakashi’s childhood home, you let out an ungodly screech as Kakashi’s fingers jabbed you in a place that you really didn’t want to be jabbed.

Your back arched and your butt cheeks clenched.

“You bastard!” you screamed, turning around to smack Kakashi’s chest. He was dying laughing, happily taking your smacks. “That wasn’t funny!”

“It was very funny,” Kakashi disagreed, moving backwards to dodge your smacks. “Although maybe not for the local wildlife; I think they might be traumatised after that screech.”

You huffed, gingerly rubbing your backside as you followed him back into the living room. “You know, you are completely and utterly— Woah!”

Midsentence, because this world was ridiculous, you slipped on a section of wet floor that you were 100% sure you had already dried. There was a split second of relief where Kakashi managed to catch you, before he also slipped on the floor, and both of you went crashing to the ground.

Kakashi hit the ground first, laying on his back, and you quickly followed, landing on top of him. Kakashi let out an oof noise as you knocked the air from his lungs.

It was the exact same thing as had happened with Itachi, except you were the one on top this time. Porn logic was just running out of ideas you thought, bitter at having been tripped on a wet floor that you had already dried.

‘Careful human,’ James interjected. ‘You do not wish you issue a challenge to porn logic, because in my experience, it does not take kindly to such things.’

‘Wait, really? What happens if I issue porn logic a challenge?’

‘The last alpha who did that… well, let’s just say that I doubt their penis was ever the same again.’

You loved porn logic. Porn logic had zero faults and you wanted to kiss it on the mouth, marry it even. It was just perfect in every way.

‘Good save, human.’

‘Thanks, James.’

“Are you going to get off me or are you just going to continue staring into space?” Kakashi’s voice jolted you from your conversation with James and you bashfully cleared your throat.

“Right, yes, of course, but I am going to use your tits as leverage to stand, just saying.”

Kakashi rolled his eyes, which seemed to be his go to response when he was in your presence but didn’t protest your grabbing at his chest.

You put your hands down and gave his chest a little squeeze, ooh, nice and squishy. You were about to push off him and into a standing position, when you felt something that wasn’t so nice and squishy.

In the inside pocket of his jacket was something hard, almost like a small book. Honestly, it wouldn’t have been notable at all if Kakashi hadn’t reacted. You would have assumed it to be some kind of paperwork or light reading, but Kakashi froze, and you’d seen more innocent expressions on kids caught with their hands in cookie jars.

“What’s that?”

“Paperwork.” Kakashi answered far too quickly for you to believe him for even a second.

“Well, if it’s only paperwork, then you won’t mind me having a look.” You grabbed the book out of his pocket, dodging his attempts to stop you. Your weight on top of him was keeping him pinned nicely, and moments later you had the book held triumphantly above your head.

“Now, let’s see,” you hummed, giving the book a look. It was a small yellow book, with large writing ‘Icha Icha’ over the top. The 18+ logo on the front was a damning piece of evidence. This was a porn book. How hilariously ironic.

“I can explain—”

“Kakashi!” you said, in a faux scandalised voice.

“I read it for the story!”

You hummed, considering his story, like a judge. Kakashi stared up at you, trying his best to be the picture of pure innocence, pleading with you to end the interrogation.

Obviously, you had no choice but to push things further.

“Well, I can understand that!” you said, chipper as ever.

Kakashi blinked, “You can? I mean, you can. Great, so if you could just give it back—"

“If the story is as good as you say it is, then I would love to give it a look!” Any hope that had started to bloom on Kakashi’s face died as soon as he registered your words. He tried to sit up, presumably to wrestle the book from you, but you used a knee to hold his chest to the ground. “Now, now, you wouldn’t be so cruel as to deprive me from such a great story, would you? If it’s good enough for you to be carrying around at work, it must be something special.”

Kakashi made another swipe for the book, but you simply held it above his reach. “I hate you. I hate you so much.”

“No, you don’t! Now, let’s see…” You flicked to a random page. “This page looks like a good place to start.” You cleared your throat. When it became obvious that you were about to do a dramatic reading, Kakashi groaned.

“You’re ridiculous, completely ridiculous. I should sue you for assault and theft.”

You ignored him, scanning the page. A feral grin blossomed on your face; it was perfect.

“Elisabeth grinned down at Makoto, hunger and lust warring for dominance in her eyes, reflecting the real life battle that Makoto had just lost. Makoto wondered what it would be like to have her mouth on his—” you gasped, clutching imaginary pearls. “Oh my, Kakashi, what are you reading?”

“I’m reporting you to HR.”

“Oh? And this” -you shifted your hips against his, watching as Kakashi hissed at the pressure on his rapidly rising cock- “is going to end up in the report too, I presume?”

Kakashi had no comment to make, but his rosy cheeks spoke loud and clear. You took that as an invitation to carry on reading. You skipped a few paragraphs to get to the really juicy bits.

“Elisabeth wrapped her hands around Makoto’s neck in a gentle mockery of a collar. Makoto bit his lip, overwhelmed by the imagery. He wanted her to own him, mind, body, and soul. But first, he needed his punishment. A punishment? How exciting! Do you remember what punishment Elisabeth is going to give to Makoto, Kakashi?” You rolled your hips again, delighting in the pleasured grunt you forced from him. Kakashi shook his head as a negative to your question, something you didn’t believe for one moment; the book was clearly well loved and had been read many times before.

You leant down over his pink face and gave him a chaste kiss. You saw his arms move and for a moment you assumed that he was going for the book, but he merely settled his arms on your hips before pushing his crotch up into yours. You hummed and kissed him again. He was such a brat.

“Makoto was forced to kneel at her feet. It was with eagerness that he anticipated the crack of her whips against his skin. He had been bad, he knew that, so he accepted his punishment with grace and also a raging boner. Ah, I see what you’re into. And just when I didn’t think you could be more cliché, the CEO is into BDSM.”

“And how many porn books are you reading to know that it’s cliché?”

“Change the subject all you want; you were the one caught with your proverbial trousers down.” Kakashi rolled his eyes. He seemed to have recovered from the minor embarrassment, because the light dusting of pink didn’t get any worse. You guessed it took more than that to embarrass someone who apparently caried porn around in their pocket of their work clothes. “Okay, okay, one more and then we can keep cleaning.”

You flipped through the book, trying for find the right scene to end it on. Hmm… Maybe you should let porn logic choose? It would probably know exactly what page to pick. You closed your eyes.

‘Porn logic, choose the page that will get the best reaction from Kakashi please!’

You flicked through the pages until you felt the overwhelming urge to stop, at which point you clamped your thumb down. You had landed on page 154.

To your immediate confusion, it didn’t look like it had any porn on it at all. It looked like it was just a sappy conversation between Elizabeth and Makoto. You debated picking another one, but after James’ warning about pissing off the porn logic, you decided to just trust it.

“Elisabeth, there’s something I’ve been wanting to say to you for a while, something important,” you read out loud. Kakashi let out a strangled noise as he realised what page you were on. His lightly pink face quickly deepened into an impressive red. Oh. So that’s how this was going to go.

“Fine, you win, can I have my book back now because—”

“What is it, Makoto? What could be so important that you called me here at this time?”

Kakashi whined, pressing his hands to his face. You had never seen him act like this before. You watched, fascinated, as you continued to read.

“Elisabeth… With all my heart, deeply and truly, I love you.”

Those final words were enough for Kakashi, because he easily broke out of your hold, knocking you off of him and onto the living room floor. Now free, he turned over onto his front and buried his face into his arms. You could almost see the steam coming out of his ears.

It was as unexpected as it was adorable. You hoped this wonderful omega never stopped surprising you in the best way.

“Aww, Kakashi, I’m sorry,” you cooed, rubbing his back. “It’s okay to be a sap at heart, I won’t tell anyone! I want to keep this cute side of you to myself.”

Kakashi took a shaky breath before pushing himself into a sitting position. He was still bright red. “You are…”

“Are…?”

Kakashi gave you one of his eye smiles, reached out with a hand, and firmly flicked you on the forehead. “Annoying.”

It was such a weak attempt to restart the banter on a equal standing that you couldn’t hold your laughter in.

“You’re so pathetic,” you laughed, clutching at your stomach. “I love it.”

“So are you,” Kakashi said, pouting.

“I know, that’s why we’re perfect together!”

Slowly, Kakashi started to laugh too, joining your hysteria on the living room floor of his childhood home. You were leaning on each other, just completely lost in a weird joke that only you two could understand.

What a team you made. You really liked Kakashi. Honestly, you could say that you loved him at this point. He was just so fun to be around, fun to tease, fun to bite, everything. Being around him made you feel alive, and having money for everything you could ever need was only adding to how relaxed you had been feeling the whole time in this dimension.

You could see a very happy life here. You didn’t know if it was fortunate or unfortunate that you saw an equally happy life with Itachi. Your laughter petered out as you considered the impossible choice you were going to have to make.

The knowledge that no other person would ever enter this universe if you didn’t stay only made you feel guiltier. Was it worse to leave Kakashi alone forever, but with his money and friends, or leave Itachi with the possibility of another great love, but an equal possibility of being forced to settle with some awful person who just happened to die early and choose him?

You sighed, trying to put such heavy thoughts out of your mind for now.

Kakashi was watching you, a soft look on his face. His mask had slipped off at some point during the chase, so you could see his face unhindered. He was just watching you in silence.

You reached out a hand to cup his face. “Are you okay?”

“Yes, I am,” he said, still staring at you like you were the centre of his world. “It’s just… it’s been a long time since there was laughter in this house.”

“I bet.” You smiled sadly and pressed a kiss to his forehead. His backstory was so sad that whenever you thought about it for too long, it hurt your heart. It had been easier to read at first, when he had just been some nebulous, kind of dickish, person on a Wikipedia page, but now he was Kakashi, your Kakashi… It hurt to imagine him suffering.

His father had committed suicide when he was only four, and then Kakashi had been raised by custodians, forced into business from a ridiculously early age, and then been betrayed by those who were supposed to look after him as soon as he came of age.

“Kakashi? Can I ask you a question?”

“You? Of course. Always.”

“Do you…” You struggled for a moment, thinking about how best to phrase the question. “Do you enjoy your work? Do you like business? Because from what I understand, you didn’t really get much of a choice.”

Kakashi seemed baffled that you would ask such a question. His mouth opened, but no sound came out.

“I… like my job,” he said, entirely unconvincingly.

“What do you like about it?”

He didn’t answer. That didn’t surprise you.

“Did you ever get a chance to follow your own dreams?”

Kakashi blinked at you, looking lost. He swallowed heavily. You rubbed your thumb on his cheek to try and comfort him. You understood that for someone who had never been given a choice, your question might have been quite jarring.

“What are your dreams, Kakashi?”

He stared at you and shook his head, still silent.

“You don’t know?” You pressed a gentle kiss to his lips. “It’s never too late to make dreams, Kakashi, remember that.”

“If you say so,” he said, trying and failing to keep a light-hearted tone. “We need to keep cleaning, you know, we’re burning daylight.”

You allowed the heavy-handed topic change to slid by without acknowledgment. “You’re right, come on, let’s get up. You’re buying me dinner tonight, by the way, as thanks for all this cleaning.”

He rolled his eyes, standing. “Fine, but I’m picking the restaurant, and I want it delivered.”

“Sounds good to me!”

…

You yawned, gratefully climbing into bed. This MC had invested in expensive sheets, and honestly you loved them for it. There was no better way to end a tiring workday than climbing into bed.

You couldn’t wait to either reject society and run off into the woods with Itachi or have a full-time profession as Kakashi’s eccentric trophy spouse. Work sucked.

You closed your eyes, and just as you were starting to drift off, your phone started to ring. Ugh.

You forced yourself awake. Your fake family and friends hadn’t even been invented yet, and you were already being bothered. You squinted at the caller ID. Oh, it was Kakashi. That was weird; he wasn’t a phone call person.

You answered the phone. “Hello? Kakashi? Is everything okay?”

“Yes, I’m sorry for calling you.” His voice sounded strange. It was softer than usual, like his head was off in the clouds.

“That’s okay.” You waited for an explanation of his call, but none came. “Did you need something?”

“Yes, I… I was thinking about the Autumn Company Party and I…”

“Yes?”

“Do you think…” He stopped talking again. Something was off.

“Kakashi, you’re freaking me out. Please tell me what’s wrong?”

There was a pause. “Nothing, I’m sorry, I’m fine. Goodnight.”

“Kakashi—” You couldn’t get any more words out before he hung up the phone.

You sat there in bed, staring down at your call log, confused.

What on Earth had that been about?

Next chapter

#the quest for a second life #kakashi #kakashi hatake #sub!kakashi #sub kakashi #omega kakashi #omega!kakashi #alpha x omega #a/b/o #omegaverse #alpha!reader #alpha reader #dom reader #dom!reader #gn reader #kakashi x reader

[bryngmemoney]

✁FASHION FLIRT✃

Megumi Fushiguro x Reader

⭑story masterlist link

tw:none

Writing in between messages!!

🪡Chapter Fifteen: 8-ball

“You have to show me him!” Yuki exclaimed as you adjusted her outfit, making sure everything fit well. “Well, I could show you a picture, but he’s gonna come in right after you, so you could stay a minute extra.”

You two were referring to Megumi, as Yuki had always been one interested in starting conversation on people’s types. You were no exception. She told you that the reason she did it revealed a lot about the person without them knowing, you could see what she meant to an extent but really only she knew what she was talking about.

“Ooo, like how soon after me?” You looked at the time displayed on your phone, seeing the lock screen show the song you were quietly playing in the background for you and Yuki, as you guys were the only ones around. The numbers at the top read the time 5:50. “Like in ten minutes maybe, he said he’d be here around six.”

You backed up, asking Yuki to spin for you, seeing that everything seemed to fit well. “Does anything feel off?” “No, it’s perfect actually!”

“Great! Well that’s really all, you can go and change again, are you staying for a few?”

“Well I am curious, i’ll stick around with you for a bit.”

6:20, and Megumi was no where to be seen. “Is he running late?” Yuki asked leaning her back against the table while she sat down, facing you who was standing up, peaking out the window of the studio room to see if there was any sign of anyone walking in.

“I don’t know, he hasn’t answered the text I sent him.”

“He usually shows up on time?”

“Most of the time, there was just once where he showed up late, but that’s because of something that was happening.” You turned back to Yuki, checking your phone just once again to see if there was any sign from him. “Like how late?” You placed your phone down, sighing before answering “40 minutes..”

“Oh, wow.”

“He made up for it though!” You defended, “He took me out to dinner, it wasn’t really a date because his friend was there too, but still!” Yuki just hummed seeming amused in your story.

“Okay, i’ll wait another 10 minutes max with you then, but if he still hasn’t responded or shown up, we’re leaving.” You yawned in response, not feeling tired because it was late, but instead because this week had really exhausted you with class work. “Can’t we make it 15?”

“Listen, he’s already done something like this before, and you’re tired, just tell him not to show up and talk it out later, but if I was you i’d go and take the fattest nap ever first.”

Megumi sighed after finally finishing his project presentation for his Photo Seminar class. He really needed to try on this assignment, as his last one wasn’t the best. He didn’t fail, but he wasn’t anywhere near where he wanted or needed to be. Stressing over it he was glad to have finally finished his preparation, feeling a weight being lifted off him that is until he checked the time to be 6:38, then it was replaced with panic, remembering he had promised to meet you around six today. He looked for his phone, only to find it and see a text from you already saying you left 7 minutes ago.

Author’s Note: date with megumi officially planned🗣️‼️

tbh i think beer pong is my favorite imessage game

hope you guys enjoyed!

Taglist below, feel free to comment or dm me to be added!!

TAGLIST

@iridescentrays @gumimegz @maya-maya-56 @mamafly @lunavixia @swissy23 @coltsgf @m00nglad3-mp3 @etsukis @xosren @qtnfer @oengleli @harek89 @y-sabell-a @morgyyyyyyy @getolvr @liliumaraneae @k3lbade @aiieera @dancedancey @get0sfav @chuyasthighs0 @hyssoplampflickers @kpopanimen @sad-darksoul @vivi-loves-penguins @kasumitenbaz @talkingsperm @nymphsdomain @inlovewithlondonn @rzcnlb @enchantingkitty @fuyuzemi @lysaray @ni-ki-ismyluv @reneny @frumira @mixzimi @miralunaela @dreamxiing @p3achiee @anianurst

#jjk #jjk college au #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen megumi #megumi x reader #nobara kugisaki #yuji itadori #jjk megumi #megumi fushiguro #yuki tsukumo #sukuna ryomen #sukuna #jjk au #jujustu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu megumi #fushiguro #itadori #yuji #nobara #jjk x y/n #megumi x y/n #megumi x you #jjk smau #smau

[jeansplaytoy]

Complaining - Ony. 5

<<part four part six>>

arguing, sexual themes(?), language, drinking, smoking, etc.

sorry for the wait yalllll . proof reading later , short bcus a lot happens in the next chapter 🤲🏾

that same night, ony led you into a party. probably the last one you planned on going to for the week if somebody pissed you off tonight.

you smacked your lips. “ian even feel like coming to this dumbass party, ony. you always gotta make me do some shit.”

“stop complaining befo’ i make you stop.” he muttered in your ear. you rolled your eyes and looked away with a small smile.

as he went to the main living room, he dapped a few people up, spoke to a few people, before finally sitting down, sitting you down beside him.

“so yo ass finally got his mind straight about what he shoulda chose?” connie tilted his head, taking a drag of his blunt. ony scoffed. “man, you acting like i was actually finna be wit that girl for that long. we already done.” he smiled to himself.

“yeah, he knew better.” you shrugged, making ony roll his eyes at you. “ony go get me a drink.” you mumbled. ony smacked his lips playfully and stood up. “ight, hol up.” he mumbled, walking towards the kitchen

“so y’all back together?” sasha tilted her head with a grin.

“no.” was the first thing you said. and quick. “we just sorted things out now he think he got me.” you shrugged.

“y’all toxic as helllll. so y’all finally talked shit out and ain’t argue over every little thing?” mikasa raised an eyebrow. “surprising.”

you sighed loudly. “oh my-, y’all never enjoy things how they is y’all always gotta push it.” you rolled your eyes.

“it ain’t our fault we expected less outta you-“

before connie could finish egging the shit on, someone else appeared.

“y’all know where ony at?” onys ex girlfriend appeared out of nowhere. you raised an eyebrow and glanced back at the kitchen. “why?”

“because he was just texting me telling me he wasn’t bouda come to this party and ion believe it.”

all eyes went directly to you. big and bold.

“the fuck?” you squinted.

-

the quietness in the car on the way home was unbearable.

not to you, but to ony. you were being weird ever since you first showed up to the party, now you didn’t wanna say anything to him, and for what?

“if you ain’t wanna go to the damn party then you shoulda said that. ion know why you acting weird all of a sudden because i went to get a drink.” he said, unlocking the door to his house, since you sadly agreed to stay the night. what a coincidence.

“you a weird ass nigga, you know that? to sit here and lie in my damn face about a bitch you said you ain’t want but was texting her the whole ride to the party, ony you a damn joke.” you said, kicking your heels off and stomping upstairs.

“y/n… what is you talkin bout bruh?” ony frowned at you went in his room where you were. you took your dress off as ony leaned on the doorway. “everyday it’s something new witcho stupid ass.” you pointed at him.

he smacked his lips and groaned. “sum new wit’ me? you sittin here complaining and ion even know what the fuck i did.”

“and you still wanna sit here and lie in my face?” you squinted and tilted your head. rummaging through the personalized drawer he had for you and your clothes to find something to sleep in, you frowned, huffing.

“how would i lie in yo face and i ain’t even said nothin?”

before you should even get your shirt all the way on, you froze. “you told me you was done wit’ that bitch. you know what she told me? she told me you told her to go to that fuckin party. how the fuck you invited two different bitches to one party?”

ony stared at you for a second before opening him his mouth to say something, but you cut him off.

“ion wanna hear it. when i see that bitch, we talkin to her. together.”

#onyankopon #ony x reader #ony x black reader #ony x y/n #onyankopon x black y/n #onyankopon x reader #aot onyankopon #onyankapon #ony aot

[politemenacephd]

Arachnophilia (Part Six)

Drider!Miguel O'Hara x Reader (+18)

Chapter Masterlist 🕷️

You're a new recruit to the spider society, and you've just been sent on your first mission on one condition: Do not contact Miguel's variant in this universe. When your mission goes wrong you break that rule very quickly, desperate for help, only to find that Miguel's variant here is not what you expected. He's stoic but kind, awkward but sincere, and he's also an enormous human-spider hybrid: a drider, both human and arachnid. You decide to continue seeing Miguel in secret, with the rest of the society unaware. You really want to stay friends after all. That is, until Miguel suddenly goes into a rut. Now you're his mate, trapped in a dizzying heat that only he can fix, trying to hide your relationship from your suspicious superiors. What could go wrong? Word count: 3470 Notes: I miss Mig but more Miguel content in this one, he's having his hellfire moment lmao

The first place you took a portal to was your home, as your main priority right now was cleanliness and clothes.

The moment you stumbled in you threw the sheet down and rushed to your shower. The water was weak and barely lukewarm, but it did the job. You scrubbed yourself with soap at least three times over, removing everything that you could until your skin was squeaky clean.

Every time you brushed your thighs you whimpered. You were still hot, still barely holding it together, and every light brush of your fingers against your belly or crotch made you tremble. It reminded you of him, of his tongue and hands and breath. Part of you thought about staying there and relieving yourself but you knew you didn’t have time.

You washed away as much as you could, all while whispering to yourself that you were okay.

Once clean you wrapped yourself in a soft towel and stumbled into your bedroom. You clumsily pulled on your spider suit and started half-heartedly packing a bag with all your usual essentials.

For now you’d just get enough to last the week at Mig’s place, and then later you could do a second trip for more.

Halfway through stuffing your toothbrush into the bag, you paused.

Wait, so, were you going back to Mig?

The flicker of an intrusive thought crept into the forefront of your mind: you didn’t have to go back. When you were burning up with heat it didn’t feel like there was any option other than indulging in him, in letting him have you, but now you were here. You were out.

You shook your head, physically rejecting the thought just as quickly as it came up. No, no, you wanted to go back. You were just afraid of the HQ and it was making you panic. It wasn't wrong to be worried about getting caught, but you wouldn’t hurt Mig over your own paranoia. You couldn't. You didn’t want to lose him. You didn’t want to leave him.  

You finished packing everything else in silence, lulled by the ambient sounds of the city outside.

As you quietly folded clothes your mind wandered back to Mig again. You did regret how, in the moment, you’d forgotten to really explain the main reason you'd actually wanted to leave.

Getting these extra suppies was nice, but really you just needed to get to the medical bay ASAP. You needed to get something to combat the constant barrage of his seed you were taking.

Liking Mig was easy, but accepting his fantasy of actually breeding you was something else entirely. Even the tiniest slither of doubt was a default 'no' to letting it happen for real.

So, here was the plan. You would return to the HQ and get what you needed, fill in Jess on why you’d been gone and would continue to be gone, and then you would return to Mig. Hopefully the heat would let you last that long.

God, you were dreading it though. Jess was going to be furious and you’d need an alibi for your absence thus far, as you couldn’t admit to your affair.

And the medical bay? That was going to be a nightmare. The Spider-Society had a no questions asked policy for the most part, but it was still mortifying. You knew what you’d done, and while it thrilled you to no end you knew no one else would see it that way.

The medical bay wasn’t what scared you the most though, if you were honest, nor was it even Jess’s wrath.

You were terrified of bumping into him, the other Miguel, your boss. The one whose orders you had directly and repeatedly violated, who Mig had warned you had the same urges as him.

What happens if Mig was right? Would he try to talk to you, try to dissuade you, or god forbid outright forbid you from returning? Or, would he try to entice you, to have him instead of Mig?

It took you a while to pluck up your courage and leave, but you knew you were on a strict time limit.

You slung your packed bags over your shoulder and set a portal course for the society HQ.

…

The moment you portalled in you could feel your senses tingling. You tried to keep your head down as you sped through the lobby.

Most of the groups you walked past paid you little attention, but as you got deeper into the lobby your hair stood on end.

You felt it. Someone was watching you.

Someone just out of sight, just out of range, gawking in a way that made your hair stand on end.

For someone so used to being a dime a dozen, a grain of sand on a beach, it was unnerving to suddenly feel like you were being watched from all angles. You felt your heart sink. Could they tell? Did someone know?

You became painfully aware of your body in that moment. The slight limp in your gait from being stretched and bent and ploughed, the thick seal permanently covering your insides, and the thick, heavy presence of Mig’s last load still inside you.

You could feel it when you walked. You tried your absolute best to not show how flustered you were, how hot you were. You hurried as fast as you could to the HQ medical bay.

Your luck took a slight turn as you entered the ward, as it seemed today very few people required their services. The inner reception was almost entirely empty. It was sterile and white, with two slightly wilting plants paced on tables in each corner to give it some kind of life.

You crept across the floor, hoping to act low key, but your footsteps echoed as you approached. Halfway to the desk the girl behind it was already looking you up and down.

You sidled up and mumbled your request. ‘Ah, hi- hi, sorry, um- I need to put in a request form for today, ideally, ASAP if possible.’

The girl nodded and turned to her floating holographic screen, quickly swiping a few bits aside.

‘Of course. What for?’

‘Ah- emergency, contraception, and—’ You paused, momentarily, before blurting the next part. ‘And um- long term, as well. Together.’

You saw the way her eyes darted back to you. She was doing her best to be professional, but god knows this society was nosey.

‘Um- sure, just, how long term? What timeframe?’

‘Uh… how, long can I, get?’

Her brows went even higher. ‘Do you need immediate acting?’

‘Y-Yess.’

She turned to her screen and typed in a few things. ‘Okay. Um- we have patches that should protect right away, they last a month each, I can do 3 months with a check after that.’

‘Sure! Yeah. Sure, ah- thank you.’

She gave a curt nod and pulled up a few sheets of virtual paper. ‘No problem. Sign these.’

You hurried to do so. As you scratched out your signature the girl pushed back her chair, slowly rising to her feet. She looked stiff, like she’d been sat there a while.

‘If you get those signed now we’ll get your check over and done with quickly.’

Immediately your body went rigid. The girl began walking towards a door towards the left but stopped when she realized that you hadn’t followed, her hand left posed on the half-open door as she turned back around. You stared at each other from across the empty room.

‘Is- that okay?’ she asked, seemingly befuddled.

‘Ah- why, aha- I didn’t know, you needed checks for that. When uh- when did that happen?’ you stammered, forcing a smile so you didn’t look suspicious. She looked very unamused.

‘It’s, always been protocol’ she said slowly. ‘We need to make sure it’s safe for you to be taking it. We just have Lyla do a full body scan at once, it’s super quick and very accurate.’

Very accurate. Full body. Those words rang in your head like bells.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

You didn’t have any other choice, did you? You either didn’t get the meds or you got scanned.

As sweat beaded on your forehead, you decided to just wing it. You nodded to the girl and followed her round the back.

You were handed off to a different nurse in a spider suit who took you into a little back room, one with plenty of privacy. She drew a curtain over the closed door and gestured for you to stand on a thin, raised circular podium in its centre, all while making light small talk.

Now drenched in sweat you cautiously stepped onto the circle.

‘Okay, now, stay still for me please.’ Her voice was so cheery compared to your awkward demeanour. It put you quite on edge. You stayed stock still as she ordered Lyla to complete the scan.

‘Alright, alright, let’s get a look at cha’ Lyla chirped. You noticed her hologram floating next to the nurse’s head, her glasses lowered to catch your eye. She looked curious.

‘Hey, it’s you. Little sneak. Haven’t seen you in a while’ she said. You forced a smile.

‘Yeah, I’ve- been, busy. Can we- do the thing, please?’

‘Relax, relax. I thought you’d like to catch me up. But, whatever. I’m sure you have better places to be’ Lyla drawled. Despite her annoyance at your tone she did her due diligence by completing your scan, which consisted of a thin orange light slowly sweeping your body from head to foot.

You’d hoped for a little extra time to plan but your scan was over and copied in seconds. You could see it materializing on the nurse’s tablet, just barely visible in the corner of your eye. You willed yourself to look normal.

‘Okay! Looking good. Blood fine, organs fine, you—’

The nurse gave a painfully obvious squeak as she scrolled down your results. You were straining your neck to not look at her.

It was certainly something to behold, and not what the nurse had expected to see so early on a Wednesday morning. The bruises on your hips right down to the muscle, the bite marks and nips, the lingering venom that’d seeped into your blood.

Those on their own would be noteworthy, but they became so much worse when taken alongside an alert labelling an inhuman amount of semen currently filling your insides, right next to the notice of a ‘foreign object’. Something that resembled spider silk, Lyla’s diagnosis read, coating the exterior.

The nurse and Lyla both glanced at you in unison. Your arms began to shake so you folded them tight.

‘Oh. Busy’ Lyla chortled.

‘Ah… Well, you- you’ll, definitely need that emergency pill’ the nurse said with an awkward laugh. ‘But, looks like it shouldn’t cause any issues. I’ll, um- I’ll make sure you can pick it up when you go back through.’

You let out a small sigh of relief. That meant you weren’t pregnant yet. You hopped down from the podium and hurriedly grabbed your bags, heading straight for the door.

‘Thank you so much for the help, I can—’

Right in the middle of your garbled thanks the nurse grabbed your arm. Her eyes on you were strangely intense.

‘I… Sorry, just- I wanted to check. Are you, okay?’ she whispered. Your eyes flitted between the door and her face.

‘Uh, yeah, yeah! Yeah. No I get it, um- I’m fine though, thank you for the concern but, I’m fine.’

The nurse nodded. She seemed both weirdly unnerved by and familiar with this scenario at the same time. ‘I- also, quickly, wanted to make a suggestion then’ she whispered.

Now you were really confused. You just shrugged. ‘Ah… O-Okay, sure, go- go ahead. What is it?’

‘I’m sorry, just- I’ve seen this before’ she whispered. ‘I can put in a prescription for anti-venom, for you, with the others, if you’d like? I’d highly recommend it as precaution.’

‘Anti-ve—I’m sorry, did you say you’ve seen this before?’ you stammered back.

The nurse let out a little huff, as did Lyla. They looked, annoyed? Or did they look sympathetic?

‘Unfortunately, yes. Now I know he’s not- technically anyone’s boss, but, even for this to happen once it seems- wrong. Not that I’m judging you of course! It’s not your fault, the whole- dynamic, but—well.’

‘Boss has needs’ Lyla chuckled.

Your eye twitched painfully. Oh, right, they were talking about Miguel. HQ Miguel. Your boss Miguel. They thought that you must have slept with him.

‘What I’m saying is, I saw a man who- worked here, a while back, with similar symptoms to you, asking for the same things. He’d been uh- consensually paralyzed, apparently, so I suggested he keep some around just in case. I’m just letting you know the same is available to you.’

‘This… I, feel like you shouldn't have told me that’ you murmured awkwardly. The nurse looked just as awkward, if not defensive.

‘Well, I just- I’m doing my duty, giving medical advice. That’s all.’

‘Ahuh… I’ll, pick some up. Thank you.’

With that you swiftly escaped out the backdoor, hurrying back to the reception. As promised the girl there handed over both your birth control and a third paper package, one labelled ‘anti-venom.’ Her eyes as you took it were so unbearably curious.

You were extremely grateful to be out of there as you hurried back into the main HQ.

What was that all about? So, had Mig been right then, about your boss? This universes Miguel was also having secret, lewd affairs in the same way he was? It certainly seemed to corroborate his claims. The nurse said it was similar symptoms, so did that mean he was also plugging his cum inside random people with webs? The thought made your face unusually hot.

As you made your way through the lobby you began to climb the beams back up to the top, hoping to catch Jess wandering around up there. You were grateful to be ignored, grateful to get this over with.

But then something grabbed you.

You jolted to a halt as thick, firm fingers gripped your left arm. Your heart skipped a beat.

It was at that moment, at the most inconvenient moment possible, that the growing ache in your loins began to spread. Your heart began to thud, your blood began to pump, your skin growing hot and sensitive beneath the thin fabric of your suit.

The heat was back. It was back, and it was only going to get worse.

NO, NO, NO.

You whimpered as your gut tightened and your insides pulsed, your blood pumping as it prepped your body for more penetration.

Not here, you pleaded. Not here.

The hand on your arm tightened its grip, pushing you back towards the nearest wall. In your brewing panic you turned.

Those cold red eyes stared right into your soul.

‘Where have you been?’

Miguel spoke with his usual disdainful exhaustion, but as he spoke to you it felt like something was off. Perhaps it was just your growing panic, but, did he sound angry? Did he sound, eager? It was hard to explain, but there was something strange and conflicted about the way he spoke.

‘I-I’ve, been, away’ you murmured awkwardly. You tugged, but Miguel didn’t let go. In fact, he pulled you closer.

‘We’ve been trying to contact you for days, you’ve been completely unreachable’ he whispered low, ensuring no other spiders could hear.

‘Yes, I’m- sorry, but I—’

Once again you tried to pull away, and once again he tugged you closer. You could feel the heat of his body as he hissed low enough that only you could hear.

‘It’s our job to make sure none of our members get lost in the multiverse, or get hurt, and it is our members job to not waste our god damn time. We had to search for you! Where, were you?!’

‘I-I— I don’t, I—’

Through the growing ache in your insides, you could barely hear him. The panic was merging with your insatiable, brewing horniness until you were utterly lost. You felt sweat beading on the back of your neck as the heat burned you from the inside. You felt faint. You felt sick.

‘Answer me’ Miguel snapped, his voice low and curt. You finally met his gaze.

For a moment, one intrusive thought filled your mind. What if your hormones drove you towards this other Miguel? It was just hormones after all, right? Your body would drag you to him whether your mind thought it was a good idea or not.

Your blood ran cold. You were horrified that, for a quick fix to the pain, you’d let another spider fuck you. That you’d debase yourself to letting that cold man fill you with his cock in some dirty closet, all to stop the ache.

No, you thought. Please no. You didn’t want that. You didn’t want to do that to Mig. You didn’t want it.

You froze up as Miguel took another step towards you. ‘I said, answer me’ he repeated.

His chest was brushing yours now, his breath close enough that you could feel it. Your whole body throbbed violently with heat.

But, it didn’t happen. You could feel the ache spreading but you didn’t feel a pull to Miguel as he stared you down. His disdainful gaze, his curious cold eyes, they didn’t draw you in. You knew if he approached you that you would turn him away.

All you wanted, all you craved, was Mig. You needed him back. You missed his blunt but kind expressions, his attentiveness and sweet gratitude. You needed his thick, veiny arms to hold you down, and his tongue on your neck and his fat cock to bring you to tears.

Just thinking about it made you involuntarily quiver. Miguel’s eyes widened. Did he know?

You didn’t wait to find out. You yanked your arm away.

‘I need to see—’

‘HEY! My god, there you are.’

Your unexpected saviour dropped in from a beam above, her hand gently clapping Miguel on the back. It was Jess.

‘Miguel, what’s gotten into you? I was in the middle of talking to you, you just bolted. What, is it an emergency?’

Even as she spoke his eyes never left yours. You could see that the reds of his irises were burning. They were burning with that same feral energy that Mig always showed.

‘Hey, Miguel, you okay? Are you—Oh. Hey! God damn, it’s really you.’

Midway through her rant to Miguel, Jess finally spotted you out of the corner of her eye. Immediately she switched tones.

‘Back from the dead, huh? What are you doing here, actually- wait, no, more importantly, where did you go?’ Jess asked as she pushed past Miguel. You dragged your eyes away from him as you tried to think of an excuse.

‘Yeah, sorry, I’m- so sorry, I swear I—’

‘Hey, hey, my god you’re still so jumpy. Come on, what happened? Where did you—’

‘I’m sick!’ you blurted.

Jess paused, hand halfway raised. ‘You’re- you’re, sick?’

‘Yes! I’m—’ You reached out and grabbed Jess’s hand, abruptly pressing it to your forehead. The beading heat and sweat made her jump and quickly yank back her hand, subtly shaking it as if to remove your touch.

‘Jesus- yeah, you are sick.’

‘Y-Yeah. Yeah. I am. I was hunkering down, in my universe, and I’ve mostly been sleeping so I didn’t see my watch ringing. That’s it. I came by just to stop at the medical bay to get- medication.’

You raised your hand and shook the bags in your hand, once, deliberately keeping your fingers over the label. Jess thankfully didn’t look too hard but Miguel’s eyes lingered.

‘Oh, damn. That bad huh?’ Jess gave a sympathetic tut.

‘Yeah. It’s- bad, and I don’t want to get anyone else sick! So, I should head back. I promise I will keep you updated from now, but- I need to go, right away. Now. Bye.’

You didn’t wait to hear what the two said. You waited long enough to hear the sympathy in Jess’s voice before bolting, leaving them behind.

You glanced back only once as you limped to the nearest corridor, and all you could see was Miguel staring at you with unblinking eyes.

His lip curled before he vanished behind a wall. In a blind hurry you rushed to the nearest closet and locked yourself in. You pulled up a portal and threw your bags in one by one.

You went home to him. You went home to Mig. link to part seven

#miguel o'hara #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #smut with plot #drider #smut #spider man 2099 #monster human relationship #x reader

[mangowafflesss]

HATRED FOR YOU | PART. 2

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Pairing: Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Fem!Writer!Reader

Summary: When you try spying on the man next door you end up hurting yourself in the process only for him to come running to your rescue. Its a shame he doesn't know who exactly he is helping.

[Part 1] [Part 3]

{Tags: @dontyouworrydaddy @chrrybl0ss0m @skulfan1 @lialacleaf @ghosts-cyphera @delaynew @arminarlertssword }

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There were six chapters. 

Six chapters until your book is finished. 

That'll be it, then you can finally share it with the world. You knew exactly what you wanted to write but there was something hard about starting and ending your books. You get so excited but have to refrain from writing garbage which has happened a couple of times in your life. 

The last time you ever wrote anything was about two weeks ago. When you took a pit stop by Rocco’s and met your neighbour, the one you didn’t realise you had. 

You hadn’t seen him since but then again you haven’t really left your apartment other than the other week when you finally went grocery shopping. 

As you lay your head on your pillow you think in your head before sitting up and getting onto your knees. Your palms were pressed flat against the coolness of the wall while you lowered your head to place your ear against the wall also. If you are thinking correctly his room should be on the other side of here. 

This is entirely creepy but you are just bored and can’t sleep. 

You don’t know why you’re creeping on your neighbour, but you just wanted to hear any sort of sign of life. If his room is on the other side then you’ll be able to hear him sleep, Right? 

Your ear was touching the wall and you tried to hear something on the other side, whether it be a soft snore or movement of the bed sheets as he moves in his sleep. 

Or he isn’t asleep? 

The clock says it is currently one in the morning so perhaps he might… but then again you also don’t know this man and this is the weirdest thing you've ever done in your entire life.   

Backing away from the wall you sit back on your bed but manage to get the bed sheet wrapped around your foot and end up falling off the side of your bed straight down onto the hard floor below. 

You grimaced when you realise you have downstairs neighbours and whisper an apology into the floorboards while gripping your forehead. It throbbed loudly in your mind and you move to sit into an upright position. 

“You're an idiot” you say to the reflection of the floor length mirror that is currently facing you. Your matching pyjama set was askew and you crawled over to the mirror to get a closer look at your head. 

Your room was dark but there was enough light for you to be able to make out the red mark on your forehead. “Great, now I look like more of an idiot” you scoff before pushing off the floor into a standing position. 

You open your bedroom door and walk into the direction of your bathroom to get a closer look and to wash it just in case, but before you reach the door there is a knock on your door. 

It made your heart beat fast due to the unlikeliness of someone knocking on your door at this time but you most probably woke someone up with your fall. Well there goes your track record of not pissing off your neighbours. 

Walking to your door you didn’t even bother to look who it is and unlock and open your door. You were going to say something until you looked at the figure in front of you. Your neighbour was standing there, the one you were just trying to see was awake. 

“Hello.” you try to be polite in hopes he wasn’t here to tell you to ‘keep the noise down’.  

“Are you okay? I heard a bang and then nothing else so I came to check” oh, you weren't expecting that. Clearing your throat you point to your head and smile “I fell and hit my head, sorry for waking you. I'll be more careful” you laugh awkwardly in hopes he’ll go back to his home and leave you to cry in peace. 

“Are you alright with sorting that?” he pointed to your head and he seemed to be looking intensely at it. Raising your hand to your head you feel wetness trickling out, you look at your hand and see blood on the tips of your fingers. 

Your face pales and Ghost sees this and crosses over the threshold of your apartment to hold your arm to steady you. “I'm not very good with blood” you say with a thick voice as if you’re going to throw up. 

Ghost moves your hand away from view and walks you over to the sofa. “Don’t look at your hand, it’ll make you feel worse” he sets you down carefully and bends down to one knee to assess the small cut on your forehead. 

“How did you fall exactly?” his hand was under your chin and he felt the warmth of your body radiate off you. “I fell out of bed” your voice was quiet but it still sounded loud in the stillness of the early morning. 

His body expelled air in some weird laugh and you would’ve missed the smile forming on his face if you weren’t looking directly at him. You didn’t manage to catch what his face looked like in the elevator the other week but now you could see him completely. 

“I’ll go find something to clean it with” he says and quickly moves away from you and into the kitchen. You hear him clattering around and then realise that none of the lights are on. Getting up from the couch you walk over to the wall and flick the switch, the kitchen is now illuminated and you squint to get used to the light that invades your eyeballs. 

“Thought it would be useful but now my eyes are burning” you blink multiple times trying to get used to the light and then see a shadow appear in your vision. You can still see the light trying to penetrate from the sides of your closed eyes but you feel soothed by the shadow in front of you. 

Cold hands touch your face and you relax as they go near your forehead. One of those hands smooths away any hair in your face while the other gently dabs away any blood that's collected on your skin. 

“Why didn’t you take any shortbread?” you whisper and he pauses for a second before resuming the activity at hand “You seemed to be enjoying them and also who takes shortbread from strangers?” he whispers back and it felt as if you were two children trying to not get caught by your parents at a sleepover. 

“Says the stranger currently in my apartment” 

“Ah, you got me there” 

You giggle softly at the tone of his voice and open your eyes, he was focused on the cut on your head and you took in his face in a new light and smiled unconsciously. “Sooo stranger. Do you have a name or do I have to refer to you as either neighbour or man who doesn't take shortbread from strangers?” 

There was a moment of silence before he pulls away from your head and looks down at you “Simon will do just fine” 

You say his name and then tell him yours with a handshake. He shakes it back and you scream in success in your mind, the road to being best friends is a go. 

“I should probably go, if you feel worse than you do call for help” you nod your head and walk him to the front door straight past your coffee table where a bunch of illustrations for your book cover sit from where you were looking at them earlier. 

Unlucky for Simon he didn’t even notice or even catch a glimpse. 

“Thank you again, I owe you one”

“Don’t worry about it, get some rest. Goodnight” 

He leaves your apartment blissfully aware of the person he just helped. You're just some girl who falls out of bed and loves shortbread. 

Nothing more and nothing less. 

Poor unfortunate Simon.

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #ghost x female reader #simon riley x female reader #call of duty

[mamaestapa]

Dinner Date & an Unexpected Text

•pairing: Joe Burrow x reader

•series summary: Y/n Hubbard, the younger sister of Cincinnati Bengals Defensive End Sam Hubbard, finds herself in a difficult situation after a steamy hookup with her brothers best friend, who just so happens to be the quarterback for the Bengals. In just nine months their lives will be changed forever. How will Y/n and Joe manage to to go through parenthood together? more so, how will Sam take the news he is going to be the uncle of his best friends baby?

•chapter summary: You and Joe finally go on your first date. The night goes extremely well, until you receive an unexpected text from someone you haven't heard from in a while...

•word count: 3.1k

•warnings: pregnancy, mentions of the scare Joe and reader had back in March, lots of fluff, mentions of SAM, cliffhanger ahead...

series masterlist

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May 6, 2023

5 months pregnant

You ran your fingers through your styled hair, smiling softly at your reflection in the mirror. Tonight, you and Joe were going on your first date. He asked you to be his girlfriend a week ago, and it was one of the greatest and most anticipated moments in your life. It took a few years and an unplanned pregnancy, but you were finally his. You had planned three different dates in the last week, but something came up each time you tried to go.

The first date idea Joe came up with was to take you out to brunch. However, the morning of your brunch date, Joe woke up with a nasty stomach bug. You spent the day taking care of him, which wasn't all that bad, but you both would've much rather spent your day doing other things.

The second date idea Joe came up with was to take you out downtown. The two of you would grab a quick dinner, do some shopping for the baby, and finish the evening off with some ice cream—for only you and the baby, since Joe doesn't eat dairy. However, Joe's plans fell through once again due to you waking up with a sore throat. You spent the morning at the doctors office getting diagnosed with Strep, with the rest of the day being spent with Joe taking care of you and your unborn baby. While you enjoyed the day with Joe, you didn't enjoy the Strep throat.

The third date idea Joe came up with is the one you're finally able to go through with. Joe liked the previous ideas he had come up with, but he figured after the last few days the two of you have had, it needed be something different, nicer. Joe decided that he was going to take you out for a nice dinner to Jeff Ruby's Steakhouse—the restaurant in Cincinnati that has a steak dinner named after him. All this time you’ve lived in Cincinnati, you’ve never been to fancy steakhouse before. So both Joe and you figured this would be the perfect first date.

You turned the light off and exited the bathroom, heading into your room to grab a cute, yet comfortable pair of high heels. Your ankles were a little swollen, but it wasn’t anything too noticeable so you could still get away with wearing heels. However, you know in a couple months you wont be able to wear the same shoes you can now. You found the pair of white heels you were looking for, sliding them onto your feet with ease before you headed downstairs. As you walked down the stairs, Joe whistled at you.

"Look at you." He said with a smirk as his eyes trailed down your figure, taking in your appearance. You blushed at his words and the feeling of his gaze on your body. "It looks a little different on me now." You said, glancing down at the dress you had on.

You were wearing the same dress you wore for your gender reveal party back in early March: the white cami dress with a slit that had pink flowers all over. The last time you wore this dress, you were three, almost four months pregnant. Your baby bump was still pretty small at that point, and the dress fit you like a glove. Now, at five, almost six months pregnant, it doesn't really fit the same anymore. Your belly is much rounder now, growing more and more everyday—which is a good thing. It means your son is healthy and growing like a weed in your womb, just like he's supposed to. Your growing tummy continues to bring you and Joe comfort after the scare you had back in March. Seeing your bump grow was a great reminder to the both of you that your baby boy was still OK.

Not only does the dress tightly hug your growing bump, it also hugs your growing chest, too. You knew your body would grow and change the further you got into your pregnancy, but you weren't expecting your boobs to go up a whole cup size (or two, who knows how they'll end up looking by the end of your pregnancy). Even though the dress is somewhat snug now, you still thought it would be the perfect dress for your first date with Joe.

“You look beautiful in it, Y/n.” Joe said, snaking his arms around your waist and pulling you into him, “even more than you did a couple months ago, and I didn’t think that was possible.” His eyes trailed down your body once again, a small smile pulling at his lips once his eyes landed on your rounded belly. He took his hands off of your waist, placing them on the sides of your bump instead.

“He really pops out in this dress, doesn’t he?”

You placed your hands over Joe’s smiling softly as you looked down at your belly and said, “Yeah, he does”.

You and Joe shared a brief moment of standing in silence. The two of you wore smiles on your faces as you just stared down at your growing bump in awe. Sometimes it still felt surreal knowing that your son was in there. As you stood in silence, Joe’s stomach growled, reminding the two of you of your dinner reservations. You let out a laugh as he removed his hands from your bump.

"Let's go, we've got a reservation in twenty." Joe said as he took his hands away from your belly. You smiled, reaching out for your small purse. "Sounds good to me."

With that, you and Joe left the kitchen and headed out to the garage, the two of you getting into his car and heading out to your date. As Joe drove to Jeff Ruby's, he kept one hand on the steering wheel and the other on your belly. He always had to keep a hand on you when he drove, and you loved it. It was a comforting gesture for both you and your unborn son.

~time skip~

"So what do you recommend here?" You asked Joe as you scanned over all of the options. The menu was a lot to unpack, with an overwhelming amount of steak meals to choose from. You knew you were starving and everything sounded good, but you didn't know what to get.

"Well," Joe sighed, placing his menu down on the cloth covered table as he looked into your eyes. A small smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth as he responded to your question, "I may be biased, but the Steak Burrow is pretty good." Your lips pulled into a small smile as both of you chuckled softly at his suggestion.

In 2020, the owner of Jeff Ruby's named a steak dinner after Joe after winning the Heisman trophy. In Joe's Heisman speech, he described situations of food insecurities and poverty in his hometown of Athens, Ohio. His speech inspired Jeff Ruby to create a dish dedicated to Joe known as the "Steak Burrow": a delicious 16oz blackened prime ribeye with creole crawfish sauce--the crawfish being included from Joe's time at LSU. Not only is the dinner named after Joe, but every time a customer orders the Steak Burrow, nine dollars gets donated to the Athens County Food Pantry. Joe has done a lot of charity work to help the people of Athens and all over the state of Ohio that struggle with poverty and food insecurity. You truly couldn't be more proud of him and all that he's accomplished.

"I'll take your word for it..." you trailed off, closing the menu and placing it down on the table as you reached for your glass of water, taking a sip before continuing, "It sounds good, plus, I'll be supporting a good cause." You finished with a wink, making Joe smile. However, his smile faltered as he narrowed his eyes at you.

"What?" you asked, laughing lightly. Joe's sudden shift in mood had you growing confused. Joe wet his lips and cocked his head to the side slightly as he spoke, "Are you able to have crawfish?" You lips formed in a straight line at Joe's question. You hadn't really thought about it, but you assumed you could eat crawfish. But, I can't eat sushi, so maybe I can't...you thought to yourself as Joe gave you his best RBF.

"I think I can have it." You said, giving Joe a small nod. "You think?"

"Yep." you shrugged. Joe shook his head, he was ready to argue with you on this one.

"I just don't want you to hurt the baby."

"Eating crawfish won't hurt the baby."

"You don't know that, what if you get food poisoning or worse, some nasty parasite." Joe grumbled out in disgust. You rolled your eyes at your boyfriend’s words, "I'm not going to get a parasite, Joe."

"I just don't want to risk it," he sighed, reaching out for your hand that was on the table. He squeezed it gently as he spoke, "I don't want you eating something you're not one hundred percent certain that you can or can't have."

You smiled slightly at Joe's words. He was always concerned about you and the baby, making sure that both of you were safe and sound at all times--no matter the circumstance. You sighed in defeat, knowing you wouldn't win this argument.

"Fine. I won't eat the crawfish." You sighed, your response making Joe smile and let his shoulders fall in relief, "Thank you."

"I'm still get the Steak Burrow though," you said, pointing at Joe, "baby boy and I want to support you and all the great things you've done for the people of Ohio."

Joe smiled warmly, his cheeks turning rosy from your words of praise, "Thank you Y/n."

Before you could make another sweet comment, the waiter came back over to your table, asking you and Joe if you were ready to order. You said "yes", both of you ordering the Steak Burrow. You and Joe thanked the waiter as Joe handed him the menus, a tight lipped smile on his face as he nodded in response to the waiters thanks. Joe readjusted his napkin on his lap before he turned his attention back to you. There were many things the two of you could talk about as this was your first official date, but Joe wanted to ask the important questions first. The questions about your baby boy, his baby boy.

"So," he breathed out as he let his blue eyes fall to your swollen belly, "when's your next ultrasound?"

"Not for a couple weeks," you smiled softly as you placed your cup of water back down on the table, "I do have my glucose test next week though." Joe grimaced. He's heard that the glucose test isn't the most enjoyable test for a pregnant woman.

"Yeah," you chuckled softly at Joe's face, "I'm not too excited for it, but hopefully I pass so I don't have to do the three hour test, too." Joe nodded in agreement. He didn't want you to have to go through that either. The one hour test was already enough in his opinion (and yours too). You and Joe spent the next twenty minutes talking about the baby. Both of you had so much to talk about regarding your baby boy and his arrival when the season starts, so you figured now would be the perfect time to start some of those conversations. You decided that starting a nursery soon would be a good idea, and that it might be smart to throw around some name ideas too. You couldn't call the little guy "baby boy" forever. As you and Joe talked about your son, you couldn't help the grin that pulled at your lips as Joe gushed about the tiny newborn clothes he saw on the Nike website a few nights ago. It filled your heart with joy to see Joe so excited about the baby, and you knew that excitement was only going to grow the closer you got to the baby's due date.

Joe smiled softly, bringing a veiny hand forward and letting it rest on the table as he grabbed your hand and entwined his fingers with yours. Your smile matched his as you lovingly squeezed his hand.

"Thank you, Y/n." Joe spoke quietly, yet wholeheartedly as he gazed into your eyes. You furrowed your brows slightly in confusion, letting out a small laugh, "For what?" You asked.

"Everything." He said, the words escaping his pink lips in a tone just above a whisper. Joe gulped, his Adam's apple bobbing slightly in his throat as he did so. "I'm glad we were finally able to do this."

"Me too," you responded, your voice matching your boyfriends, "I've waited for this moment for a long time." Joe squeezed your hand once again, his lips turning into a huge grin as the corners of his beautiful blues crinkled in sync with the curvature of his lips. "I have too," he sighed softly before he continued, "I should've taken you on this date years ago, but..." he trailed off. You nodded and pulled your lips into a straight line. You knew exactly what he was referring to.

"I know," you replied softly, letting out a light laugh, "I know." Joe chuckled at your response. He nodded as he said, "But I'm really happy we get to do this now. This," he said, gesturing between the two of you, "it feels right."

"It does," you said, nodding in agreement. Joe smiled softly at you, looking like he wanted to say more; however, he was cut off by the waiter coming to your table with your food. He placed a plate down in front of both you and Joe, asking if the two of you needed anything else. You and Joe both said no, but the waiter gave the two of you a knowing look with a slight smirk on his face before he left the table for a brief moment. You and Joe both sat in your seats filled with confusion. The waiter came back to the table with a bottle of rose in his hand. He pulled two champagne flutes off of an empty table and placed them down on yours. He popped the cork off of the bottle and poured each you and Joe a glass.

"Non-alcoholic, on the house." The man said, smiling as he pulled the bottle away from your glass. "Thank you for all that you do for the community, Joe."

Joe gave a curt nod in response, smiling softly as he replied, "Yeah, of course. This community means a lot to me, it's the least I could do."

The waiter thanked him again and before he walked away, he wished you and Joe well, telling you both to enjoy your date together. You smiled and thanked the man before you and Joe both began to indulge in your delicious steak dinner.

As you were eating your meal, you couldn't help but let out moans of pleasure from the taste of the steak and the mixture of the crawfish sauce. The Steak Burrow was divine.

"This better than McDonald's?" Joe asked with a smirk of amusement as your content moans filled his ear. You chuckled softly, wiping the corners of your mouth with the napkin draped over your lap. "Much." You reply, making Joe smile and let out that laugh of his that you love so much. As you placed your napkin back on your lap, you felt your phone vibrate. You were going to let it go because you were on a date and you didn't want to be rude, but something inside of you told you needed to check it. You pulled your phone out, heart dropping to your stomach and all the color leaving your face as you read the text you received from someone you haven't heard from in a long time...

Sam- Hey Y/n. I know we haven't talked in a while, but I really need to talk to you and Joe about something. If you're up for it, can we meet up next Thursday? I miss you. Hope you and the baby are doing OK. Love you Y/n/n.

You shut your phone off and let out a sigh. You looked up at Joe, seeing his eyebrows furrowed in confusion and face full of concern as he looked at you.

"What it is, sweets?" He asked quietly, fearing the worst based on your reaction.

"It's Sam," you stated, "he needs to talk to us, Joe."

omg hi loves!!! it’s been SO LONG! hopefully you’re all still around for this series lol

i’m so sorry that’s it’s been like almost two months since i’ve updated this series. as you know, i’m in my first year of college. it’s so much fun and i love it so much, but it’s also a lot lol. it took me some time to get adjusted to this new chapter of my life, but i’ve finally gotten used to the college life and im happy to say that i am BACK to my tumblr writing!!🥳

it was nice to have a little break and just focus on me, but i missed writing and working on updates for you all.

updates will be a little slow, but they’ll happen! i’ll try to get a chapter out every week, but no promises. they’ll definitely be posted every week or every two weeks though :)

i feel like i have so much to say, but i don’t even know what to say. i apologize again for the lack of updates, and i also apologize if this chapter SUCKS because ive been dealing with writers block AND a writing break…so my writing is a little rusty lol

also sam and his drama making an appearance again…how do we feel about that??👀

anyways, thank you all so much for being patient with me as you waited for updates. you are all so kind and so supportive. YOURE THE BEST BABES FR🫂🤍

tags: @dandelionwrites8 @joeburreauxsworld @theflawedwriter @mrsshiesty @ann288 @ijustcrypretty @theoneandonlyfanz @wickedfun9 @venus-b @hummusxx @stainednailpolishremover @a-moment-captured @alternativemadchen @erinmartin1987 @sirlewisworld @kkrenae @unhingedfangirl @sublimemusic-rebel @meameagirl @ilovejoeburroww @hallecarey1 @j-worlds-blog @blinkloverx3 @jordyn14 @kristencochefski1125 @ryiamarie @unsaidjaelinrose @sinners-98-world @ozwriterchick @evernova @fangirl-madz @jackharloww @fantasywritersstuff @emherb10

#joe burrow #joe burrow x reader #joe burrow x y/n #joe burrow x you #joe burrow series #joe burrow fanfic #daddy issues #dad joe

[emilykaldwen]

The Maiden and the Drowning Boy | Aegon x OC | Chapter Sixteen

Rating: Explicit

Ships: Aegon II Targaryen x Abrogail Strong (Lyonel Strong's Daughter), Jacaerys Velaryon x Helaena Targaryen

Summary: As the kingdom teeters on the edge of chaos, Alicent Hightower swaps the pieces on the board: Aegon will marry Abrogail Strong, Larys’ younger sister and heir to Harrenhal. Caught in the web of intrigue and political machinations, the pair must figure out where their loyalties lie, and what they mean to one another.

Tropes: Childhood Sweethearts/Friends to Lovers, Generational Trauma and Cycles of Abuse, It's All About the Character Development, Unreliable Narrators, Multi-POV, Canon Divergent, Bisexual Aegon II Targaryen, Book/Show Mash Up, Fix-It Of Sorts, Stopping the Cycle of Abuse before it gets us all killed, Team Neutral, fairy tale vibes meets victorian medievalism meets grrm

No tag list. please follow @emkald-fic and turn on post notifications for updates or subscribe on AO3

Tumblr Masterpost

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six | Chapter Seven | Chapter Eight | Chapter Nine | Chapter Ten | Chapter Eleven | Chapter Twelve | Chapter Thirteen | Chapter Fourteen | Chapter Fifteen

AO3 Link

Author's Note: And we're back! Thank you all for being so patient with me as I took some time away. I'm honestly glad I did. TL;DR (or read the update in the previous chapter) I lost my job, things were rough. I'm feeling a lot better now and here we are with the final Aegon birthday chapter! As I stated as well, we'll be moving to something closer to a three week posting schedule for the last few chapters of this fic and continue on that posting schedule for the sequel.

PLEASE PLEASE subscribe to the series page or my author page so you get updates when we start the next story! You're not going to want to miss it. (And follow @emkald-fic on tumblr if you read here!)

All my eternal love to @vampire-exgirlfriend, whose been my rock. I love you. Please go join her as she finishes up her Aemond fic, They Say I Killed You (Haunt Me Then)!

Warnings: Larys Strong Jumpscare, and MURDER!

CHAPTER SIXTEEN - Flew Like a Moth to You

Aegon's birthday hunt includes some fantastic girl action and some murder! OH! And Some Jacelaena biting. You love to see it.

Floris Baratheon could not sit still, clutching her bow and quiver, peering out the carriage window as they approached the Kingswood. “A-hunting we shall go, a-hunting we shall go-”

“Hi-Ho the derry-o, a-hunting we shall go,” Abby sang in turn, the song a familiar one from childhood. The Baratheon girl had been quite annoyed that she could not ride a horse the way the other men did, but with the promise that she would not have to sit with her sister in a carriage, she had been content enough.

Abby sat beside Lythene Ryger, who had been quite speechless at the invite to the carriage. Wylla would have normally been with them, but with her soon to be good-sister, Alys Bracken, coming along, she was off playing chaperone and overly curious and mischievous younger sister to Alys and Harrion. Abby was glad she had the opportunity to do so, for her dear friend was giving up much to stay in the south as her Mistress of Keys instead of returning home to the Karhold.

On the other side of Helaena, Margaery Crane of Red Lake sat. Her lush, light brown hair was braided in a crown around her head, and her face was square with large, unnervingly green eyes. Her head was bent towards Helaena’s, threads of evergreen and butter yellow woven in her fingers as she taught the princess how to finger knit. It was an easier pastime during the long carriage ride to the camp than Helaena’s embroidery. Her twin sister, Desmara, sat on Abby’s other side. The only difference between the pair was her dark, chestnut hair and the scar across her full mouth.

“I’m sure if you ask Daeron when he goes out with the party, he’ll retrieve the stag antlers for you,” Helaena said, her eyes focused on the thread between her fingers. “He’ll love the opportunity to prove himself.” Floris rolled her eyes in only the way a girl of one and ten could, her black braid wrapped around her head with stubborn tendrils escaping. She tugged on the ties of her raven black cloak.

“Nay, Your Grace,” she said primly. “I would show my own mettle, and face the stag myself.” Her cheeks were pink all the same. Abby bit her lip to hold back her chuckle, not wanting to tease the girl. She caught Desmara’s own amused look, the scar across her mouth pulling at her own smile.

“Well, I don’t think they’ll let you go hunting the stag, Lady Floris,” she said. Floris looked pleased at the kind address from the elder girl. “But we’ll be going hawking and the spoils are certainly yours. That’s how I obtained the rabbit fur for my gloves.”

“That’s true,” Abby chimed in. “And you are a child of Nightsong, are you not? I’m sure falconry is in your blood.” Floris’ mother was a Caron, with a lineage of fierce warriors nestled in the Dornish Marches. Lady Ellyn Caron had songs sung of her, and how she, in part with other lords of the Stormlands, defeated the Vulture King. It was exactly the kind of family lineage Abby could see Floris idolizing.

Floris nodded seriously, running her fingers along her bow. “This is true. I suppose I should practice.”

“Practice until you come back dragging the stag behind you,” Helaena continued. “My elder sister is said to have taken down a boar with her own hands, only a dagger as a weapon. I think you have that same mettle in you.”

Floris preened, leaning into Helaena’s side to watch the magical weaving of the yarn. Abby’s heart ached with fondness for the girl, pleased that she had been taken on as Helaena’s ward. The girl was not meant to be stuck behind her three eldest sisters. The Smallest Storm would blossom, she hoped, beneath Helaena’s care and attention. It did not go past Abby’s notice of Cassandra’s harsh attentions to her sister. It reminded her of her own sister’s lack of understanding; always critical, always focused on some perception that her behavior would reflect poorly upon her. Floris was exuberant and curious, but she was not into reckless mischief or excessive rudeness.

She’d be good for Helaena. More importantly, had been good for Helaena, who had taken on Margaery Crane as one of her new ladies, and Abby would take Desmara. The Crane twins had endeared themselves quickly, Margaery introducing herself by way of teaching Helaena a new fiber art, and Desmara had gifted Abby a book on Asshai, a knowing wink in her verdant green eyes.

As the carriage pulled into the camp, cheers had already started from the other gathered lords and ladies. “With all that noise, they’re sure to scare away all their quarry,” Abby laughed, peering out the window to look on ahead.

The boys had ridden on horseback, Aegon in the lead on Kostōba, Aemond, Daeron, and Jace on their own horses beside him, with their own small retinue. Their cousin, Lyonel Hightower, was with them, as were a few other lordlings that Abby was unfamiliar with. She spied Alyn Hull’s silver braids from where he was on his own horse, smiling at the sight of the brash young man there within Aegon’s retinue. He had been a true friend to the prince over the years and it was good to see him brought into the fold officially.

Alyn would serve as steward when they departed for Harrenhal, taking on the household duties from Uncle Simon and learning under him. Aegon had been pleased that he’d agreed to the offer, brushing off his mother’s gape mouthed indignation about it. “He’s the reason I still live, Mother,” Aegon had said, unusually mild in the face of Alicent Hightower’s anger that morning as they broke their fast. He’d brushed a kiss against her forehead, and Abby wondered if he had found strength in the security they were building between them, that not even his mother could shake.

Seeing Aegon’s confidence was intoxicating, so rarely did he come off so sure of himself, and she craved to see more of it. Her teeth scraped her lower lip, belly rolling with heat.

“Good tidings to Prince Aegon, second of his name!” came the booming voice of his Uncle Hobart, leading the call of cheers. “Good tidings to him on his nameday!”

“Good tidings!” came the call of the gathered crowd. “Prince Aegon!”

As Abby settled back in her seat to wait for the footmen, she caught Helaena’s gaze. Anxiety crackled between them, mixed with the joy and love there for Aegon’s nameday. After the hunt, Abby was certain Helaena would cocoon in her chambers, barring the door should anyone try to get her into another crowd. Abby didn’t blame her, and in fact, might even join her for a bit.

The cheers had begun to die down by the time Daeron’s smiling face helped them out of the carriage. Windswept, dark blonde hair fell across his forehead as he bowed. “Allow me, my sister, ladies.”

As he helped Floris from the carriage, their eyes met, both faces going pink at the cheeks, and Abby saw her future good-brother’s hand tighten slightly around the girl’s fingers for the briefest of moments before her feet met the ground and she pulled away, her eyes on her shoes. It was not often that Floris fell quiet and blushed so red, and it did not appear that anyone else had noticed. Daeron clenched his hands to himself and his eyes met hers, his own flush deepening before he quickly hurried away.

The king had stayed behind in the Keep, as did several lords and their families. Lord Grover’s health had also kept him behind. Lord Otto had stayed to facilitate court, leaving the festivities that day in Aegon and the queen’s hands.

Her hands, Abby knew, as young ladies of the noble houses began to approach her and the princess, a few mothers in tow.

“Baela’s a Targaryen too,” Helaena muttered. “Why can’t they flock to her?”

The lady in question had rode on horseback, her red leather jerkin fitted against her lithe form over a gray tunic and black breeches tucked into black polished boots. The rings in her hair glinted in the late morning sun, sparkling as she turned her head with a laugh and dismounted her mare by Jace. Abby shook her head.

“Because they’re afraid she’ll be a bad influence, I’m sure. How are they supposed to get husbands if they dress comfortably?” Abby posited, smoothing her hands over her riding jacket. It was a warm evergreen color, deep azure and crimson soutache snaking over her shoulders like the red and blue forks of the riverlands. The crimson lined wool jacket fell just past her knees, and she wore a pair of warm trousers tucked into polished black boots. Helaena was dressed similarly, her jacket the same shade of deep azure as Abby’s decoration, embroidered with silver dragons with black beaded buttons carved in the shape of dragon head clasps running down the front.

“Hasn’t Mother decided that you should remain here to entertain all those ladies?” Helaena asked, their arms linked as they headed to the main tent. Ahead of them, Alicent Hightower was resplendent in a warm cloak of the deepest verdant green lined in black fur, her gown not one for riding or hunting, but far more comfortable for the outdoors. It lacked excessive ornamentation, the black and green skirts swirling around the tops of her own boots. Her hair was much like Helaena’s, wound in a braided crown about her head. Lady Fossoway was a half step behind her with Ser Criston as they always were, with the rest of the ladies trailing after like a gaggle of geese.

“We’re doing the receiving line,” Abby said, the fingers of her free hand fidgeting against the fall of her jacket. “Aegon’s receiving his gifts and then we’ll have congratulations on the betrothal.” She flexed her fingers, the soft leather of her gloves creaking slightly with the movement. They were lined with soft fur, luxurious, indulgent, and while she was certainly never dressed in rags before, it was rare to accept and let herself have new things when they often felt so unnecessary.

It was a new feeling to be excited about the new clothes that she had, more sumptuous than what would normally be allowed at her station.

Wylla joined them as they passed into the pavilion, warm from the braziers placed strategically about the place, each guarded by a cage of decorative wrought iron to prevent unfortunate accidents. On one end of the great tent, a small dias with a simple, dark wood throne, crested with a dragon, wings spread in welcome.

It was the King’s chair, but the king was not here.

“Are we to accompany you while you receive them?” Wylla asked. Her long hair was bound tightly back and wrapped in a coiling knot along the back of her head. Her padded black jerkin clung to her over a long tunic of gray, black riding trousers tucked into a pair of matching boots. Like Baela, she was dressed for a day in the wilderness without the cumbersome dealing with skirts.

“You look nice,” Abby told her with a small smile. “Not quite the Wildling I heard rumor of,” she teased and Wylla snorted.

“It’s a hunt and the opportunity to ride and get the fresh air. We’ll be going hawking while the men go to shove their pricky things into…” She trailed off with a twist of her mouth, the small scar along her top lip pulling at it. “Men waving around their big pointy things.”

“In a far more acceptable manner than what it implies,” Abby added on, giggling at the silly implications of it all. “And yes, I think you should. We’re receiving gifts, so you best take Desmara and Lythene with you to Lady Fossoway for instruction.”

“And then we’ll go hawking,” Wylla said with a nod.

“I have to stay here,” Abby corrected with a shake of her head. “It is my duty to entertain with her Grace.”

The northerner’s brow furrowed and both of them looked in the direction of the queen, her cloak handed off to a servant while she spoke with Lady Johanna. Wylla shifted beside her and Abby could feel the questions and arguments flitting beneath her friend’s skin. She rested a gloved hand on her shoulder, giving her a squeeze. “As I told Aegon, these are some of our new duties, no matter how dull they seem to be. Hopefully there’ll be time for me to go exploring later.” Hopefully. Abby loved exploring the Kingswood, and she’d been looking forward to going hawking, even if she did not particularly hawk herself. However, fun and indulgence could not be had in favor of duty and responsibility.

No matter how much she craved the freedom of it.

Wylla gave her a long look, teeth biting at her lip before she nodded and getured for Lythene and Desmara to follow her. Helaena had already left with Margaery and Floris and Abby was left standing alone, for the moment, amidst the steady flow of nobility pouring in for refreshment and talk. Alone, Abby was relatively unnoticed. Just a small girl in the midst of a crowd, no crown on her head to shout out who she was.

“Abrogail.”

Larys was taller than most people realized, for he did everything he could to make himself small. Few knew that Larys was as tall as Harwin had been, for her elder brother preferred to have such a small cane, to shrink himself into spaces where he could slip in. It was strange, Abby realized, that she had never noticed that it was a trait she shared with him. No desire to be the center of attention, no desire to be noticed, both for their own reasons.

The smile he gave her was an awkward twitch, but Abby noticed that it did reach his eyes, which was a rare thing, and she found herself returning it. Small and shy, perhaps, as if she were still the somewhat muddy little girl she’d been who he’d look at curiously across the breakfast table in the family solar.

He was subdued in a quilted doublet of the same deep azure and brown leather, his cloak a dark green-blue to match, clasped at the shoulder with a firefly broach. She slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow of his free arm, languidly walking toward a clutch of plump seating not far from the currently empty dais. The smell of cooking food caught on the woodsmoke in the air, and Abby’s stomach rumbled with hunger. They’d only had some fresh bread and cheese on the ride over, and the idea of warm, spiced pumpkin soup and a turkey leg the size of her own face was rather appealing.

“You’ve conducted yourself quite admirably under all the attention as of late, little sister,” Larys complimented, taking a seat on one of the padded benches. She perched beside him, smiling her thanks at the servant who came by with mugs of hot, mulled wine. She inhaled the scent of orange and lemon, the warmth of cinnamon before taking a sip. “Even with your, shall I say, antics at the tourney, they were quite well received.”

“Antics?” she asked lightly, feeling the curl of heat spread across her chest. There was no way for Larys to know what sort of other antics they’d gotten up to. The bite Aegon had left along her shoulder had turned bruised and tender, the imprint of his teeth still deep in her soft flesh. That mark was quite well hidden beneath her jacket and shirt beneath.

Larys only hummed and took a sip of his drink. “The other lords have expressed concern at my choice of husband for you, but I have assured them there is no reason to fret. I simply wanted my sister to be cared for and happy.” He gave her a sidelong look, placid expression barely shifting, his dark eyes large and innocent in his expression. “And everyone can clearly see how happy you two make one another. The queen…” he trailed off with a sigh, “has not quite been pleased but…”

Abby looked down at the deep purple-red wine swirling in the silver goblet. Anxiety prickled through her, confusion at her brother’s attempt, it seemed, to try to bond with her on something more personal. “Her Grace has been very indulgent,” she said softly, mouth twitching into an awkward smile that her brother returned. He inclined his head towards her only just.

“We both understand how passionate the queen’s frustrations can run, little sister,” he said softly, the scent of him cold and clean, like a tomb. Abby blinked, the awkward smile falling from her face. Her throat bobbed, the sting of bile in the back of her throat was almost painful. Had the queen told him what had occurred? Or had Larys, with his strange talents, found out what happened himself. “You will not be her ward for much longer. I imagine, like any mother, she is feeling the maternal ache over the loss of her son to his wife, and the loss of you, who is like a daughter to her.”

“Perhaps,” she allowed, busying herself with another sip of wine so she might find the words. They were receiving glances from the bustling court as they found their places, platters and great soup tureens being set out along the tables. Her stomach growled again. “She was quite concerned about… the dishonor I would bring upon the royal family.” Her voice was little more than a shamed whisper and the insinuation was as painful as the day she’d been accused when coupled with Ser Edmund’s harsh words in the gardens. She straightened her shoulders, trying to push past the hurt and shame that lingered still, tilting her chin up, refusing to be cowed. “Apparently some of the other lords are quite concerned about your heir marrying into House Targaryen.” She smiled at the passing servant, plucking a small apple tart off the platter he held. “I have made my own assurances that our children will be raised in the customs of our people, that regardless of dragon blood, we are the Riverlands.” Whether or not Edmund Vance believed her, if he mocked her to those he could find for such statements, well, she could do nothing about that. She could only mind herself.

“It will be a hard road, Abrogail, given that they do not see you as one of them. Lo, they barely see me as one of them, what with all my work here,” Larys said with a nod, looking at the cake he’d plucked for himself. “What matters is that you greatly impressed Lord Tully, and his son has been amenable and welcoming-”

“I may not have grown up in the Riverlands but even I know there’s only so much influence they have,” Abby cut in, chewing her lip after the words tumbled from her, her voice a soft, biting thing. Larys said nothing to that while he chewed on a bite of cake, and she shifted slightly in her seat and took another sip of wine. “It will not be a smooth transition, not for all. A prince? Becoming vassal to a mere lord?”

“Prince Daemon was Lord of Runestone through the dear, late Lady Rhea,” he reminded her after swallowing. “I don’t recall any such problems between him and the Lady Arryn.”

“Jeyne Arryn was kin to his goodsister,” she retorted. She had spent countless hours in the library with Aemond, taking meticulous notes of the lessons the boys had that her and Helaena did not. Part of that involved wiling away a week of stormy, frigid weather, tracing out the family trees of the Great Houses. The Targaryens rarely married out, even before King Jaehaerys, but there had been Aemon and Daella to houses Baratheon and Arryn, and Queen Aemma’s siblings and half-siblings. She’d even traced her own tree: Harwin’s mother, Lysa, had been Lord Elmo’s sister. Larys and Corynna’s mother had been a Frey. Abby’s mother had been a Westerlander, already outside, already suspicious of the clannish houses of her homeland. “And if all the mutterings and murmurings are true, he cared as little and less for them as they did for him.”

She’d heard the rumors of Daemon being responsible for his first wife’s death, and the occasional muttering that he was responsible for Laena Velaryon as well, but in the past few days being with the mercurial Baela, she did not think that was the case. Abby looked back at her brother again, briefly, before smiling in greeting as Lady Redwyne and her sister settled nearby. The queen had sat on the opposite end of the circle of seating, the corral of it split evenly between the pair of them. Her shoulders slumped minutely and she kept her genial smile as the older women settled in.

Laughter caught her attention, Helaena and Baela both with shaking shoulders near the pavilion entrance as other girls joined them. They would be going hawking soon. The sun caught upon Helaena and Baela’s silver heads, giving them a golden shine. A sigh caught in her throat. How nice it would be to join them, to frolic in the lack of responsibility.

Larys shifted, still sitting at her right hand as the rest of the guests filtered in, and her attention drew back to him. “Ah, yes, the princesses and the other ladies are going hawking. Did your grandfather not gift you a new hawk for your engagement?”

Lord Rodrik had indeed. Abby had hawked some when she was a little girl at one of the hunts for Princess Rhaenyra’s nameday, but had never had a one of her own. But Lord Rodrik and her Reyne family were prodigious hawkers and the beautiful Peregrine she’d named Caelus was a little wonder. He’d been trained by her cousin, Emrik, who had fancied himself a falconer, and had sent a kind letter that she was quick to return. Letters had been rare over the years, but there’d always been well wishes and tidings on her nameday.

“He did, and I know we brought him. The queen…” Abby trailed off, her eyes darting to the other side of the tent where Queen Alicent was smiling at the younger Lady Redwyne. “She said that it was our duty to host while Aegon goes hunting. That it’s my duty. To make friends, to comport myself as the future princess.”

“Oh, did she?” Larys asked mildly, cocking his head to the side and leaning on his cane. “Yes, I can see what she would want that. It was, after all, what has been expected of her when she was your age, already with two children. She had far more in common with the matrons of the court at that point. You are here when others who should be are not.”

Rhaenyra should be here. She was the King’s eldest, his heir. Discomfort prickled along Abby’s spine, a latent spike of anger at the woman who had put her family in danger, hurt at how quickly Rhaenyra had moved to Daemon Targaryen after what happened to Harwin. Her fingers curled against her knees before she forced them to relax and stretch. The Crown Princess had always been kind to her, but could Abby even trust that? After what happened at Driftmark, and what happened to her family?

Alone now, save for Larys.

‘Not alone anymore’, she immediately reminded herself, because Aegon was with her now; Helaena and Aemond cared for her too. They too were her family. Not alone, for she had her grandfather and he loved her truly. Yet, she had felt this loneliness for so long. Rhaenyra was not responsible for her loneliness, but in many ways she felt it keenly. It felt as if everything changed because of her.

This marriage, Alicent’s desire for control, Lord Otto’s keen and watchful eye were because of Rhaenyra. Aegon’s pain was because of Rhaenyra.

Her father and brother were dead and gone because of Rhaenyra.

“I am here when others are not,” she said softly, eyes watching those who watched her, her smile flashing as she murmured her greetings as the ladies began to gossip. Larys was murmuring his own greetings to Lord Piper’s wife, complimenting her on the recent betrothal for her son. Abby’s gaze darted towards the front of the tent, where the girls were still gathered as they prepared to go off for their own little adventures.

Alicent Hightower made sure she was there. She made sure that people saw her as queen, someone to be trusted and counted on, someone that could be reached. She was here, as Abby was here.

“If the Targaryens mean to exercise power in our realm, they will be in for a rude awakening.”

Abby was not queen. She wasn’t certain what that future held, but she did know, with certainty, that she was the future Lady of Harrenhal, and that Lythene Ryger, Melony Piper, even Sarra Frey who was lingering nervously with a goblet in hand, they too would be future ladies of houses that she needed to be friends with. Abby could not just rely on the fact that she held the title, not when she did not grow up in her home, not when people like Edmund Vance were so eager to tell her that it didn’t matter, they would see what they wished.

“Lady Sarra,” Abby called, rising with a smile and handing over her goblet. She could feel Alicent’s eyes on her, and that over the other ladies. “I did not have the opportunity to speak with you at the feast last night. Pray, will you join me and the others out hawking?”

Sarra Frey was a tall girl, broad shouldered with high cheekbones and dark hair bound in a twist of three braids down her back. She wore a simple but lovely jacket of deep blue and silver, the colors of her house. At being addressed, she straightened up, green eyes wide with surprise at being noticed. They narrowed slightly, mouth parting before closing. A flush crept across her cheeks.

“I don’t have a hawk with me, Lady Abrogail,” she said softly. At her full height, she was as tall as Aemond, more softly spoken than her severe expression might have said. Abby smiled.

“That is quite fine, there are plenty to go around.” Sarra nodded, handing off her goblet to one of the passing servants and Abby looped her arms through hers and tugged her towards the others. “My legs are exhausted from that carriage ride, shall we go?”

Even Baela’s mask of judgment faded as they walked towards the edge of camp where the Master of the Mews was minding the hawks and preparing to move out further from camp. She was stuck between Helaena and Wylla, the princess’ silver head shining beneath the sun. Lythene was laughing with the Crane twins and even Sarra was pulled into conversation with Zara Celitgar, who was eyeing the tall Frey girl appreciatively.

“Are we not taking a carriage?” Margaery Crane asked as Helaena led the way past the line of them set aside for their later return.

“It is not a far walk,” Abby assured her. “And it’s nice to stretch our legs after all that sitting.” She nodded towards the Master of the Mews and his apprentices carting the hawks ahead of them. Margaery hummed in agreement, confusion placated, and Abby was set to continue onto another subject when there was a commotion from behind them. She looked over her shoulder to see Cassandra Baratheon striding behind them.

“You all left so quickly!” she announced, censure and jovial all rolled into her crisp tone. A slight smirk crossed her sharp features as they approached. Among the three ladies that accompanied her, Lady Elinor kept close at her side. Cassandra’s dark eyes swept over Abby as they drew closer, and she felt picked apart by the gaze, something sharp stabbing between her ribs at the continued haughtiness of the eldest Storm. Abby straightened, offering her own wan smile. Like hell would Cassandra set foot into Harrenhal, but this?

This she needed to be easy with; this she could allow.

“Of course, Lady Cassandra,” she said. “We would be happy to have you.” Helaena made a soft sound that Abby ignored but felt deeply. Her eyes flitted to Lady Elinor at Cassandra’s shoulder, giving her a warmer look. It was her family’s strawberry wine that had been highly spoken about over the course of the festivities, and Elinor’s responding smile was kinder.

“Congratulations are in order, Lady Abrogail,” Lady Elinor murmured. Cassandra’s eyes tightened, her smile frozen on her face.

“Yes, congratulations on your coming nuptials,” she parroted, smoothing her kidskin gloves over the fall of her woolen hunting jacket. “How comforting it must be to wed one’s childhood playmate. No surprises or excitement to worry about.”

The words were harmless enough, but the barb beneath them was clear. Abby tilted her head slightly, her own smile still on her face. She opened her mouth to speak, but it was Baela who spoke, angling her head between Wylla and Helaena to peer at her cousin.

“Not to mention wedding a childhood playmate means there’s no barrier to intimacy, and no secrets kept,” she said, then bit into the apple she had in hand. “Now let’s fucking move before I start hunting with my bare hands.”

Helaena was meant to be in bed but sleep eluded her. She waved away the maids and headed out into the night toward the great bonfire in the center of camp. There was no danger here, much like there was no need to fear in the Holdfast. Her slippers grew wet after only moments, the night dew soaking into the soft fabric and chilling her toes.

She wanted to dance around the fire, stare into the flames like she heard the Red Priestesses did, and wonder to herself if her dreams would make more sense then. Aemond said she was touched as Daenys was, a gift precious to their Targaryen line. It helped ease the fearful strangeness to know that her strange dreams were not simply the ‘odd workings of an overactive imagination.’ That they did mean something, but what? Helaena was never certain. Sometimes she never knew the outcome, other times they became starkly clear.

‘He’ll have to lose an eye’.

“Would you care for some company?” came a low, curious voice, a slight crack on the last word. She looked over to see Jace lingering at the edge of the firelight, his jerkin long discarded with just his gray linen shirt and trousers, a dark blue cape wrapped around him. The bright flames danced in his lavender eyes, giving them a shade of deep purple-red she found curious indeed. Did her own look the same?

“You’re not gallivanting with the boys?” Helaena asked, not meaning anything by it until the words hung in the air, and Jace’s gaze glanced to what he held in his hands. The only ‘boys’ for him to gallivant with were her brothers. Of course there were other lordlings about, but given that Jace was lingering around the bonfire caused her to wonder if he too liked the quiet.

Or if he were lonely.

“I didn’t want to…” Jace trailed off, rubbing his thumb over whatever he held in his hand. The motion of it reminded her so strongly of Abby, Helaena didn’t know how she was supposed to process it. The curl of unease and her mother’s frustration and anger coated her insides. Her own frustrations, deeply buried but still there, like the ever smoking fires of the Dragonmont, bubbled and burbled in response. The king who loved Jace more, loved him like he loved Rhaenyra more. The blind man who ignored Aemond’s nameday even though it had just happened, who only thought of Aegon’s day because of everything that happened.

The dead look in Mother’s eyes that was more and more frequent, when she stared out the window of her solar, her hands twisted and knotted into her skirts. The things that Sire-Father had done to her for no reason except his own dragon feelings, Helaena thought. His need for more and more, consuming him the way the anger would consume Aemond, and the drink would consume Aegon.

All of them pinned to boards in the king’s Freehold miniature; all of them frozen and set on display in his own gallery, for him to take down from time to time to play with.

The burst of a log in the fire startled her and Helaena realized, uncomfortably, that she’d been staring, vacantly, at Jacaerys, who was watching her, still as water, quiet as an orb weaver. He watched her, the fire throwing orange and red across his fine features, catching at the warm red in his dark, dark hair. His right eye was a sheen of red from the fire, his left cast in shadow. Half fire.

Her right side was chilled, when her left was so warm, mirrors of each other.

Half fire.

Jace held out his hand, palm open, offering to her the smooth stone that he had been fiddling with. The ridges of the sea creature who died in it caught upon the light, throwing its own little shadow as it was unable to in life, living in the sea as it did. Only now, in his hand, had this creature found warmth and light.

Helaena reached for it, her hot fingers scraping against his as she took it, feeling his own hot skin beneath her touch.

Half fire.

‘But I am full flame,’’ Heleane thought, for she was dragonflame and lighthouse flame. Lighting the way with fire in her wake. Jace was fire, yes, but he was river water, the way it rippled through him. Still and steady, but crashing and flooding with the ferocity of a dragon’s power. ‘Would this be what her nieces and nephews be?’ Is this what a union of fire and water entailed? Deadly and quiet, steady when they were full of heat and flame.

She rubbed her thumb over the fossilized creature and it felt pleasant against her skin. Soothing, tactile. Grounding. “Thank you,” she said softly and Jace smiled at her. “Pity it’s not another marchpane tentacle.” He laughed, a soft sound that sounded like water over stones and they came to sit on the bench. She shoved her feet closer to the flame and watched the steam rise from the fabric from how hot it was. There was a few inches between them, the warmth emanating, and they sat together, no words spoken. These were her favorite moments, ones she missed. It scraped at her insides, like pushing dirt away from the stone so she could find the worms beneath. They were the memories of the gardens in childhood, Jace beside her, mud and damp soaked into his knees, helping her push the rock up to find the pill bugs and the beetles and the centipedes in the dark, damp earth.

“It was nice to dance with you at the feast,” he ventured, and Helaena looked at him, the shadow along his jaw where he’d wake up fuzzy and prickly in the morning. She reached up to rub the back of her fingers against his jaw, looking at the slight pout of his mouth, the dark fan of his eyelashes. Freckles faint against his skin.

“You're a good dancer. I should know, I’m a good dancer myself.” She smiled at him and he shook his head, a flush on his face and she felt her own spread across her cheeks. He scraped the toe of his boot in the dirt and she nudged her foot against his. He was familiar, in the way Aemond was, but he was new in the way Warren had been. Someone she knew, but didn’t. He wasn’t angry, and he wasn’t pushing and probing at her, looking for a bruise to elicit feelings from, or the thrill of a princess. He didn’t look at her like she was odd, or startle at her staring, her distant sight.

Jace was simply patient, and he waited, and did not seek to chatter. It was new, it was old, it was like pressing against the ground and the dirt giving way, a little tunnel inside that one didn’t know was there, and Jace peered in and made his way inside. A dragon roosting in a cave.

His knee bumped against hers and she looked at him, their matching lavender eyes meeting. It was nice, Helaena thought, that they had this piece to share. Like two different butterflies, different colors and different patterns, but the markings were the same. The wings were the same. Simply… different.

“The mint winds and chokes like ivy,” she said, instead of what she meant to say, which was asking him if he would come looking for stag beetles with her the next day. “The children can’t breathe, it’s bursting from their mouths.” She blinked, startled, but the words that she had not known, had not meant to utter, remained heavy between them. “I-.”

He blinked back at her, brow furrowed. “Helaena, are you-”

A horrible scream ripped through camp and for the briefest moment, Helaena thought it might have been a fox shriek. But this was too loud, too close. Another scream, this time two high pitched ones and then a guttural yell. Jace’s hand gripped hers, pulling her to her feet and away from the fire. She tugged at his hold to move towards the commotion, but he tugged her back. “I’m taking you back to your tent, Helaena,” he said firmly. “We don’t know what’s- Ow!”

She had lifted their hands, sinking her teeth into the plump flesh at the back of his thumb so he’d let go and hurried towards the tents without a second glance, knowing that he’d be following her. She gripped her skirts, grateful for the warmth of Jace’s cloak around her shoulders and her heart sank, panic seizing her chest when she realized it was Abrogail’s tent that was the source of the screaming.

Three of the Kingsguard, including Ser Criston, were already there, as were the gold cloaks that had been patrolling around the outskirts of camp. Their cloaks reminded her of Sunfyre’s scales in all the torchlight, and half-dressed nobility coming out of their tents, bleary eyed in confusion.

On the ground lay a servant with a blade in his chest, blood burbling from his mouth. Helaena looked at him, wide-eyed, Jace trying to get her to look away, and her gaze went up to Wylla Karstark. The northerner was shaking, gray eyes wide as dinner plates, her hair bound for bed, her dressing gown haphazard and sprayed with blood from where the man must have coughed it at her.

“He-he came in. He was on Abby so quickly-”

“I don’t know where he came from!” Abby’s trembling frame was right behind her, clutching one of the pokers from the tent brazier in her hands, still ready to strike. Her curls were twisted and wrapped around the crown of her head, shivering in the night air in just her own nightgown, sleep mussed and clearly straight from bed. “I don’t…” She gulped. “I don’t think he meant Wylla to b-be there.” Her free hand was gripping the back of Wylla’s dressing gown, and Ser Criston laid a hand on Abby’s shoulder.

“Give me the poker, Lady Abrogail,” he was saying in a calm, steady voice like he did when Helaena was younger, cowering in a corner and unable to flee the commotion. “There’s a girl.”

Harrion Karstark was shouting his sister’s name, just as Uncle Gwayne was calling hers. Helaena turned her head to see him coming up, half dressed with his sword belt slung over his shoulder. He reached for her shoulder, tugging her back. “What is the meaning of this?” he shouted, and Helaena stumbled back into Jace as the crowd parted.

Then, Aegon’s shout of, “Abby!” came crashing over the gathering crowd, pushing his way through with Aemond at his back. She caught her younger brother’s frantic look, seeing the worry ease somewhat at the sight of her before going over to the girls. Abby surrendered the brazier poker as Aegon reached her, frantic over the state of her, pulling his cloak off to wrap around her, fear and fury warring on his flushed features. “What happened?”

The man on the ground was rasping, wheezing, but it was hard to tell if he was alive or not, or if this was how his body signaled death.

“This man came to attack Lady Abrogail, Your Grace,” Ser Erryk said. “Lady Wylla got him good.” His twin nudged the attacker with the tip of his boot as Aemond looked at the man, then at Wylla. His face was carved in hard lines, but his gaze was softened.

“Did you throw it?” he asked. “Or did you pounce on him?”

Wylla blinked, her brother’s broad hands holding her shoulders. “I stabbed him.” Her voice was faint and she took the blade handle, clutching it to her. “He… I was putting away our dresses and there was a commotion… I thought…” Wylla’s brow furrowed, shaking her head. “He came in through the flap beside the bed and crawled o-on top of her. Abby screamed and I just…”

Harrion’s hands tightened on his sister’s shoulders and the girl fell silent with a soft squeak. Aemond’s mouth pursed and he knelt beside the man. His hair fell in a curtain, the band of his eye-patch not holding it back from the vantage that Helaena had. He reached down, and twisted the blade, a wet crack sounding in the sudden hushed anticipation. The wheezing sounds the man was making tapered off as Aemond pulled the blade from his body.

It squelched, a gout of blood spraying, and a strange, hissing sound like wind through a crack sounded. Aemond jerked back as some of the blood caught on the ends of his hair and he rose slowly, wiping the blade of the dagger. “Well he’s dead now, Lady Wylla. Your bravery and quick thinking is to be commended. House Karstark should be proud to have such a brave daughter.” He handed her the dagger, hilt towards her. “Keep this close, since you can be well trusted to use it.”

Wylla’s brother held her tightly as the gold cloaks hoisted the dead man between the pair of them, dragging him somewhere.

“I was half asleep,” Abby said. Aegon clutched her to his chest as his gaze swept darkly around, hands rubbing her arms. “At first I th-thought it was Wylla…” Helaena watched Abby’s hand clutch Aegon’s arm tighter, her voice falling silent. Her other hand reached towards Wylla again, the girls clinging tightly to one another.

“How the fuck did that bastard manage to sneak into my lady’s tent?” Aegon demanded, his voice not a shout like Uncle Gwayne’s had been, but more of a warning growl, like Sunfyre. “Where were the patrols, Ser Criston?”

Their mother’s protector - and Helaena realized that Mother was not there and that Ser Criston must have commanded her to stay in her own tent - shifted only slightly. “The patrols largely keep around the outside of camp to keep people from getting in, my Prince. The patrol that was walking through the tents had not made it back around yet.”

Aegon’s jaw ticked, assessing what Ser Criston had said and knowing it to be true. Helaena knew that Aegon and the others had been lingering in Aegon and Aemond’s tent for whatever gossip and giggling boys got up to in the middle of the night.

“Lady Abrogail and Lady Wylla will share my tent,” Helaena broke in, for she was the princess, and her mother was not here. “And we will have extra guards stationed around our tents, so that our Kingsguard are not stretched thin.” She straightened her shoulders and closed the distance between her and the girls. “This is enough horrible commotion for this night, and you should all be ashamed of yourselves for staring so,” she said, frowning at the crowd that had gathered. “These ladies have been terrorized, and you gawk at them. To bed, everyone! Let us gather your things and get you cleaned up.” The last was said to Wylla, who needed a fresh gown and the blood cleaned from her face.

And like the princess she was, she did not wait to be obeyed, reaching for Abby’s hand to pull her toward her tent.

Thank you for being here! If you loved this chapter, please give a reblog and I would adore hearing what you thought about the chapter! What did you think about the Larys and Abby convo? Baela Targaryen continues to be a force to be reckoned with. I for one love the ladies that Helaena and Abby have been gathering around them. Man what was UP with that attack at the end? And also, Jace clearly doesn't mind Helaena biting him. Good.

Next Chapter

#hotd fic #hotd oc #aegon ii targaryen #aegon targaryen #aegon ii targaryen x oc #aegon ii targaryen fic #house of the dragon #aegon ii targaryen fanfic #aegon targaryen fanfiction #hotd fanfic #hotd fandom #house targaryen fanfic #jacelaena #my fics #oc: abrogail strong #otp: do not go far from me #aegon x abby #abrogon

[its-the-pilot]

Waves | 6 | Rooster x Reader

| 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | Waves Masterlist | Masterlist |

This chapter is a little longer than I was expecting, I hope you enjoy it!

Summary: You and Bradley make a decision. (Mav's niece!reader)

Warnings: swearing, adult banter

Length: 3.4k words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

Message or comment to join the taglist!

Chapter Six

The weeks that followed the kiss on your front porch proved to be hectic for both you and Bradley. Your schedules had become jam-packed with early mornings and late nights, leaving few opportunities for you to spend time together.

Fortunately, the whispers and stares that followed your outburst had died down and you felt comfortable spending a night out at the Hard Deck again, so you had made plans to meet there after work. That’s where you found yourself nursing a glass of wine and checking your phone every few minutes, hoping for a text from him.

Penny wiped down the bar as she prepared for the Friday night rush, casting a knowing glance your way. Her eyes took in the fitted navy blue dress you had worn to work that day and offered an appreciative nod. “You look cute tonight, honey,” she smiled. “How late is he?”

Looking up from your phone, you took another drink of your wine before answering. “Almost an hour. I texted him and he hasn't said anything yet, but I doubt he's still in the air, the others are here already.” You sighed, motioning toward the pool table not far from you, where the other aviators were hanging out. “I thought things were going so well, and I just… what if he changed his mind?”

Penny nodded in understanding and reached across the bar to take your hand, squeezing it gently. “You’re overreacting, hon. Men in uniform, especially aviators, have unpredictable schedules, you know that. There’s probably a perfectly good reason for why he’s late. Give him a chance to explain.”

You squeezed her hand back in silent thanks and smiled when you heard a familiar voice behind you. “Sorry to eavesdrop, but you’re looking for Bradshaw?” 

Turning your head, you found Jake standing there holding a pool cue. “Yeah… do you know where he is?”

“Probably still back at the hangar,” he offered, moving to sit on the stool next to yours. He had been half listening to your conversation with Penny since you sat down, curious to know more about the woman that had Rooster smiling lately. He'd tried getting it out of the man himself, but was unsuccessful. “Got stuck doing push ups after his flight.”

It was common knowledge among those who worked with the pilots in training that any screw-ups in the air led to some sort of correction on the ground. In recent years, that correction had taken the form of push ups numbering in the hundreds depending on the infraction. 

“What happened?” You asked,  shifting to fully face the blonde as Penny attended to other customers. Jake had come by your office for sessions a few times since your first encounter, and you were starting to build a rapport, seeing the real man behind the Hangman mask. 

He passed the pool cue he was holding to another aviator, his shrug conveying a sense of indifference. “He was just being Rooster.”

With an eye roll, you finished your wine and set the glass aside. Callsigns and how they were determined had always seemed silly to you and for the most part, you chose to ignore them. “I don't know what that means, and something tells me I don't want to.”

“He doesn't take any risks. Always waiting for the perfect moment,” he elaborated, resting his elbow on the counter. He was wearing his civilian clothes tonight, a pair of well fitted jeans with cowboy boots and a t-shirt that said Fly Navy on it, his sunglasses hanging from the collar. 

“So he’s cautious. Sounds like a good thing to me, especially if he’s looking out for his wingman.” You ordered another glass of wine for yourself and a beer for Jake when Penny passed by.

Jake thanked you for the beer, but shook his head at your statement. “He has to be able to take the shot, even if the conditions are less than ideal, and he doesn’t. At least he didn’t today.” He considered you for a moment, a mischievous grin pulling at his lips. “You ever fly one?”

“Only in training, but I go up a few times a month with different pilots for research.” Although you had earned your wings during your training, it was your least favorite part of the job, though undeniably necessary. 

His grin widened and he leaned in, his voice slightly raised to be heard over the music as the jukebox kicked on “Maybe I can take you up sometime, show you how it’s done.”

That was what Bradley saw when he walked into the bar, still wearing his flight suit, the top half tied around his waist exposing the black t-shirt he wore underneath. He hadn’t changed, wanting to get to the bar as soon as possible since he was over an hour late.

It didn’t take him much time at all to cross the bar, his eyes narrowing as he approached you and Jake, his emotions clearly running high. He couldn’t hide the pang of jealousy he felt when he saw you laughing at something the blonde had said. He called your name just before he reached you, wrapping his arm around you possessively and pressing his lips to yours when you looked up, your eyes wide with surprise. 

He felt your body tense under his fingers, the initial flicker of panic running through you before you realized it was him and he smoothed his hand over your back, a silent apology for startling you. 

Jake leaned back against his bar stool, taking a swig from his beer, a devilish smirk playing on his lips as he watched the scene in front of him. “Well, well, well, if it isn’t the man of the hour. How’d those push-ups treat you, Rooster?”

When Bradley finally broke the kiss he looked over to the other aviator, his arm still wrapped around you. “No problem, Hangman. It was arm day anyway,” he quipped, motioning between you and Jake. “What’s goin’ on with you two? Having a good night?”

“Just offering Doc a flight, to show her how it’s supposed to go,” Jake replied, seeing the flush creeping up on Bradley’s cheeks as he continued to tease him. 

You found yourself caught in the middle, feeling like a toy they were fighting over. “Children…” Shaking your head, you turned to Jake with a polite smile. “I was just telling him it was unnecessary. I already have my flights for the month scheduled. Thank you for the offer though, Lieutenant. I’ll see you around.”

Hangman looked as if he had more to say, but he thought better of it, choosing to back down as you dismissed him. He stood and gave you a two-fingered salute before heading back to the pool tables, leaving you alone with Bradley. 

Once you were in private, you turned and smacked him in the chest, earning a grunt of surprise from him. “What the hell was that?” You hissed, your cheeks flush with a mix of frustration and embarrassment. His unexpected entrance was clearly fueled by jealousy over your conversation with Jake, and while you didn’t mind the kiss, you didn’t appreciate being treated like his possession.

Bradley moved to take a seat on the stool that had just been vacated, a look of confusion on his face. “Hangman is only out for himself, Dimples. You gotta be careful around him.”

You scoffed, shaking your head. “You have got to be kidding me, Bradley. We were just talking. He came over to tell me where you were, since you couldn’t be bothered to do so yourself.” Feeling Jake’s eyes on the two of you from his spot near the pool tables, you decided to defuse the situation by taking Bradley’s hand and leading him out to the deck, away from the growing crowd inside.

“I didn’t have my phone on me, and when I was done I came right over. I didn’t think a text was gonna matter that much.” He tried defending himself, but the look on your face told him he was failing. “I’m sorry.”

With your arms crossed over your chest, you leaned against the railing of the deck and studied Bradley intently. “You used to do this in high school. There’s a difference between being in a relationship and being treated like a possession, Bradley. Besides, we agreed to take things slow.”

He sighed and ran a hand over his face, his gaze shifting to the multicolored sky as the sun set. You were right, he had struggled with jealous tendencies growing up, and you had worked hard to help him overcome them. But seeing you again reignited those feelings, particularly when it came to Jake. “The guy just gets under my skin.”

“Well, maybe you should hash shit out with him then,” you suggested, your tone gentle but firm. Conflict resolution and letting go of grudges had never been Bradley’s strong suit, evidenced by his difficulty talking about Maverick even after nearly fifteen years since their last argument. “But stop putting me in the middle. I’m allowed to have friends, and you don’t get to approve or reject them.”

Nodding, he stepped forward and pressed a gentle kiss to your temple. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, his mustache brushing your skin. “Forgive me?”

You looked up at him for a long moment, finally nodding. “This time, Lieutenant,” you warned, giving a teasing smirk as you looked him over, appreciating the flight suit and tight black shirt he was wearing. You typically didn’t like uniforms, but seeing Bradley in one gave you a new appreciation. “If we go back inside, can you behave?”

“Only if you can,” he smirked, a playful glint in his eyes as he noticed the way you were looking at him. Reaching for you, he pressed his body against yours, trapping you against the railing of the bar’s deck as he got the scent of sweat and jet fuel all over your clothes. 

“Stop!” you squealed, laughing as you managed to get him to step back by tickling his side. Once he did, you gave him a light pat on the chest. “Let’s go get you a beer.”

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

The rest of the night went well, the earlier tension fading as you sat with Bradley, chatting about your week while sipping your drinks. At one point, Jake caught your eye from his place near the pool tables and raised his glass in a mock toast. You smiled in return, silently appreciating the way he didn’t let the earlier dramatics bother him. 

Bradley, for his part, kept a watchful eye on your interactions but managed to refrain from any further displays of jealousy. 

When the crowd inside the bar started to thin out, he stood and offered you his hand, the familiar opening chords of REO Speedwagon’s “Can’t Fight This Feeling” playing on the jukebox. “Dance with me?”

Your face lit up with a warm smile as you recognized the song. “Of course, it’s our song,” you replied, taking his hand. He kept a respectable distance between you, one hand gently on your waist while the other held yours as you swayed to the music. 

As you moved together, you couldn’t help the way it stirred up memories of your past together. “I remember the night we decided on this one.”

Bradley’s eyes were locked on yours, filled with tenderness and nostalgia. “Yeah, me too. Pulling out my mom and dad’s old records and losing ourselves in the music, sleeping on the floor in front of the fireplace… some of my favorite memories are from that night.”

Moving closer, you rested your cheek against his shoulder, your eyes closed as you allowed the memories you had pushed to the back of your mind to resurface. You recalled the cozy nest you created with blankets and cushions, a place where you held each other and listened to music until sleep claimed you. It was the two of you against the world, especially when your uncle was away and you had the house to yourselves, and back then you thought those moments would last forever. 

As the song ended, you lifted your head from his shoulder. “I missed this,” you whispered, your voice filled with longing. 

Bradley tightened his arms around you and placed a tender kiss on the top of your head. “I did too. Honestly, this? Us coming together here, after all this time? Feels like fate. A second chance.”

You pulled back reluctantly, though your hand remained in his as you bit your lip and looked up to him. “Will you take me home? We can talk more there.”

He nodded, fishing his keys out of his pocket and handing them to you. “Go ahead and start the truck, I’ll take care of the tab.”

Taking the keys, you walked out to the Bronco and started the engine before sliding over to the passenger side, waiting for Bradley to return. The engine’s purr seemed to echo the mix of emotions that swirled within you -- trepidation, a touch of excitement, and a sense of anticipation that had been dormant for far too long.

Once Bradley climbed behind the wheel, he put the truck into gear and you exchanged a soft smile, confirming that you were ready to leave.

The drive to your house was quick, not giving either of you much time to think about the feelings that simmered in the air between you. When you moved inside, you settled on the couch beside Bradley, the room enveloped in a warm, comforting glow cast by a lamp.

After a moment of quiet, you took a deep breath and looked into his hazel eyes. “What are you hoping for between us, B? Do you want me to fall back in love with you?” Your voice dropped to a whisper. “'Cause I don’t know how to do that when I never stopped.”

“I never stopped loving you either.” He admitted, his expression a mix of sincerity and vulnerability.

The admission hung in the air between you, a testament to the complex emotions that you both dealt with throughout your time apart. Your fingers idly picked at a piece of lint on your dress, a nervous habit, before you mustered the courage to speak. Your voice wavered, but you pressed on. 

“Then why didn’t you come back?” You asked, your eyes locked onto his, seeking answers.

“Because I… I know this doesn’t make sense,” he tried, his hand gently covering yours in an attempt to offer comfort.

“It doesn’t.” Your response was straightforward, heavy with unspoken hurt that you had carried for years. 

Bradley leaned in, never taking his eyes off of yours. “Alright, please, hear me out,” he pled, his voice soft and sincere. “I wanted to do something good. I wanted to spare you pain.”

Tears welled in your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. “You didn’t save me from anything. I lived with that pain every day, Bradley, and I blamed you. I blame you for thinking you knew what was best for me when it was you all along.”

His shoulders slumped under the weight of your words. Releasing your hand, he ran it through his caramel curls, leaving them tousled. “I know,” he admitted, his voice remorseful. His eyes mirrored the way you were feeling, revealing the struggle he had with his past decisions. “I didn’t want you to wait for me. There was so much you wanted to do.”

“I wanted to do all of it with you!” Your voice cracked, a single tear sliding down your cheek. “And I would have gladly waited for as long as it took.”

He swallowed hard, his throat working as he struggled to find the right words. “I don’t deserve you,” he replied, the weight of regret plain on his face.

“Deserve me? Jesus, Bradley, don’t you understand?” You asked, frustration lacing your tone as more tears fell down your cheeks. “When I was alone at night I wanted you! And I cried for you, and I even hated you at times. I hated you because… because I would have chosen you no matter what. And you took that choice away from me.”

“I made a mistake,” he declared, lifting his hand to gently cup your cheek as he brushed the tears away with his thumb. He hated seeing you cry, it broke his heart in ways he didn’t think were possible. 

You couldn’t help but lean into his touch. “Yes, you did.”

“I did,” he confirmed, searching your eyes as he continued. “I hurt you, and I would do anything to take that back. But look me in the eye and tell me you don’t care about me the same way I care about you, and I’ll walk away.”

Shaking your head, your hand lifted to cover his that rested on your cheek. “I can’t.” You felt his hand move, his fingers lacing through yours before resting on your lap. “I do care about you. Which is why we can’t…” you pulled your hand away from his gently.

Every insecurity you had was rearing its ugly head at the same time and there was nothing you could do to stop it. “You’re gonna graduate from TOP GUN and go back to your squadron, on the other side of the country. Who knows when or if you’ll be back. We can’t start something.”

Bradley could sense the anxiety rising in you and frowned, whispering your name. “I’m just as scared as you are, okay? I haven’t felt this for anyone in my life but you. I didn’t think I ever would again, but then you walked up to me at the bar… from the moment I saw you, I knew.”

He was saying all the right words, dismantling your defenses one by one, and you hated that after all these years he still had that power over you. There was something about him, an unwavering confidence you’d never possessed growing up, and that certainty about everything had helped ground you more times than you could count. 

Just being in the same room as him made you feel safe, and it was that feeling that left a Bradley Bradshaw-shaped hole in your life for fourteen years. You had learned to live without him, and now that he was here, practically throwing himself at your feet for forgiveness, you needed to decide if you wanted him back.

“I can’t stop how I feel,” he blurted out after waiting for your response, which had yet to come. “I know… what I’m asking is a lot. I can’t change the past, what I did, how I hurt you… but I want to be a part of your future.”

You finally reached for his hand again as you took a deep breath, your heart heavy with the weight of your decision. “I can’t change the past either, and I won’t pretend I’m not still hurt by what happened. But you’re here, asking for a second chance… that means something.”

Bradley’s face brightened with hope, but you continued with a note of caution. “If you want us to have a future, you have to know it won’t be easy. I’m not the same girl you left, and I’ve had my trust broken a lot, so it’s gonna take time to earn mine.” You paused, your grip on his hand tightening. “If you’re willing to work through this together, to prove that your words aren’t just empty promises, then I’m willing to give us another chance.”

“I’m willing to do whatever it takes, Dimples,” he promised, the relief in his eyes unmistakable. This was what he had been waiting for since he saw you that first night at the Hard Deck. “I’ll spend every day proving to you that I’ve changed, that I’ve learned from my mistakes.”

Your eyes never left his, searching for any signs of deception. When you found none, you closed the gap and kissed him deeply. Bradley responded with equal fervor, pulling you closer until you were comfortably settled on his lap, the skirt of your well-fitted dress bunched around your thighs. 

When you finally parted for a breath, you spoke softly. “Stay. Please.”

“I just got you back,” he smiled, stroking your thighs tenderly. “I’m not goin’ anywhere, sweetheart.”

Chapter Seven

#bradley rooster bradshaw #top gun maverick #bradley bradshaw fic #miles teller #bradley bradshaw angst #bradley bradshaw fluff #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley bradshaw x oc #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster x reader

[eunoiathewriter]

.☼︎. 𝐀𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬, 𝐅𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫; 𝘊𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘯𝘦

— Mattheo Riddle x Reader

— Summary: Years later. Sixth year has started but what started as a calm week turns strange when Harry comes into the Great Hall all bloodied down and soon after cones Mattheo Riddle, in the same state as Harry?

— Word Count: 2.4k

— Prologue

— A/N: This is Chapter one to my new Wattpad book that I've just started. My Wattpad is @/eunoiathewriter on there too and the name of the book is "Alwasy, Forever"

For the past hour and half, y/n had been standing in a window of the hallway down by the courtyard. Why? Well, it just was absolutely hilarious to watch the first years try to make their way towards the Great Hall for dinner, only to walk in the wrong direction. It had over the six years she'd spent at Hogwarts become something she found funny. Or, to be honest, she did not really start the tradition before third year when she had spotted Fred and Gerorge Weasley doing it.

y/n had simply asked the twins what in the world they had been doing only for the older boys to help her into the open window towards the courtyard. Telling her to just watch the first years wander around in pure chaos with McGonagall in the middle of it, yelling out directions and just making sure students knew their way about.

But the fun had ended when almost all the first years had understood in which direction the Great Hall was in and made their way there. That was how she now sat in the Great Hall among all the other Gryffindor students, picking at her food. Quite bored.

It seemed that every year the first year students would shoot glances at the quartet from the red and golden house. Of course having heard of the boy with a lightning scar gracing his face and his three friends that always seemed to be in the middle of it all.

So the looks from younger students no longer affected them as Ron kept eating on without batting an eyelash at them. Hermione had just finished looking around as if she was looking for somebody.

y/n sighed as she took a last bite of her chicken, pushing the rest on her plate to Ron who accepted what she hadn't touched. "Do you guys think this year will be chaotic too?"

"It wouldn't surprise me if that was the case," Ron answered the h/c girl from his side of the table.

"I guess I would be more worried if something didn't happen than if something does happen." y/n said and Ron nodded along before going back to his plate with food.

Hermione turned back to the table with a deep frown creasing her forehead. It catches the attention of y/n as she looks at the bushy haired girl with a questioning look. "What is wrong, Mione?"

Of course, many things were wrong for her. Lavender and Ron seemed to have a thing going on, something that was shocking for it only being the first four days of school. Hermione was also constantly worrying for her muggle parents' safety with all that was going on.

"Do you know where Harry is, y/n?" It made the e/c eyed girl stop and think. No she didn't.

"No, I haven't seen him since potions earlier."

Hermione sighed as she glanced around the Great Hall again only to not see the raven-haired boy anywhere. Looking back at y/n, she shrugged her shoulders, but it was obvious in Hermione's eyes that she was quite worried for Harry.

Ron, however, continued eating and aimlessly looking around like nothing was wrong and that clearly didn't sit correct with Hermione. She picked up her potions book that had laid beside her and hit his shoulder, between every hit she said:

"Why," Hit. "Are" Hit. "You" Hit. "Not" Hit "Worried?!"

It made y/n almost wanna laugh, as Ron just turned to her with questioning eyes, then flickering over Hermione's shoulder as he seemed to spot something. Hermione's brows were still furrowed as she stopped her little outburst. Ron seems to think of a way to tell her off without angering her even more.

"Because he's right there, you lunatic!" Ron swallowed and motioned towards the Great Hall's entrance.

Hermione turned quickly, y/n following suit as she was just wondering where the boy had been. But as they turned, something was off.

Harry walked with his head down slightly, holding something up to his nose. As he passed some other students he got a few side glances. When y/n really focused she could without hesitation day that he was bleeding, whatever he pressed to his nose was bloodied down and his white dressed shirt had quite a few red blotches on it.

"What happened to him?" Hermione leaned over the table to see better.

"Why is he bleeding?" y/n turned and casted a slightly worried eye to her two friends.

Harry still kept his eyes low so as to not get any unwanted attention on himself even though that mission had failed, poorly. He let out an annoyed grunt as he sat down on the empty seat next to y/n, still pressing the cloth to his bleeding nose.

"What happens to your face?!" Hermione's overly protective side immediately came out just as he sat down at the table. "Who did that to you?"

Ron did not exactly look worried, he almost looked kinda proud as it seemed Harry was not as hurt as he could have been if he had now been fighting someone. y/n was inspecting his face from where she sat beside him, trying to just make sure that it was no more than a nosebleed. Eyes looking for already forming bruises, swelling, just anything that could indicate he should go to Madame Pomfrey.

"Does that honestly matter, Hermione?" Harry asked with an agitated tone of voice, picking up the goblet in front of him with water and taking a sip. Momentarily removing the cloth from his nose.

y/n was quick however as she reached over to take the cloth and hold it for him. Not the least affected by the red blood covering it.

"You disappeared without a word for almost two hours!" Hermione hissed at him.

"It's no use, Mione, he won't tell." Harry was happy that y/n had that little extra understanding for him. She knew when to stop pushing things and when he just would not tell any more.

Hermione shrank back into the seat with a sigh and started to flip through her potions book, trying to find the page with the homework for next week so she could already know the questions and then do it later. Ron had only stood up and patted Harry on the shoulder before he sat down and went back to eating and reading the Daily Prophet that laid on the table.

"Here, fighter." y/n joked as she pressed the cloth gently to Harry's nose again, having noticed a little blood starting to trickle down again.

It took the green-eyed boy by surprise as the cloth met his nose once more, eyes moving over to see y/n just sitting there with that gentle and sweet smile felt. He did not know why he had done what he did, it was not like him to be so impulsive. But it was just something about the way he had heard him, Mattheo Riddle, tell that no way in hell would he walk up and ask y/n to hang out.

Over the summer months, Harry had been thinking long and hard about things. For five years he had been close friends with y/n. Five years of adventure. Five years of laughter. Five years of a friend that understood him better than he almost understood himself. He was far from sure exactly how he felt for her, but he cared for her more than many others. He felt the need to make sure she would not be put in dangerous situations. That was where he had started to think that maybe... just maybe it wasn't friendship he felt between them. But how could he be so sure, him, Harry James Potter, the boy who never really knew his own feelings towards things and people.

y/n noticed the way it looked as though he was deep in thought, it caused a bigger smile pull on her face. Harry always looked a bit funny to her when he was thinking. She shook her head a little at him and carefully removed the cloth from his face to see if the bleeding had stopped, which made Harry snap out of his deep thinking.

"Does it still hurt?"

"No it's fine," Harry gave a tight-lipped smile to the Whittier girl as he took the cloth from her. "Thanks,"

"Good, it no problem— Bloody hell!" y/n moved her head so she could see better, her eyes had gone a bit wide, mouth slightly agape as she looked shocked behind Harry.

Her exclamation had made not only Harry, Ron and Hermione look as with confused faces but those who sat close to them too. That being Ginny, Neville, Dean, Seamus, a few older students and some from the Hufflepuff table.

"What?" Ron was clearly quite perplexed at the sudden outburst from the usually calm girl. Looking around to try and spot what she saw.

"I think I found the other fighter." y/n nodded behind Ron and Hermione who sat with their backs towards the entrance of the Great Hall. "Look behind you."

And as they turned, sure enough, there he was. Mattheo Riddle has just entered the Great Hall and clearly noticed the quartet looking at him. His face was bloodiest down, blood under his nose drying and a scratch across his nose that was bleeding. Just like Harry's uniform, Mattheos were also bloodied down.

Harry glanced at the boy who he had a problem with ever since starting at Hogwarts. Sure, Mattheo was the son of the man who took Harry's parents from him but it still was strange as to how much he disliked him. Mattheo had never really done anything and was probably the least problematic of the Slytherin gang.

y/n could see Mattheo glare at Harry before he rolled his eyes and walked over towards his friends at the silver and green table. Clearly not bothered by the looks he got from other students. All of their looks different. Some were judgmental, as if they knew this was truly who he was. Some wondered since when he got physical with someone as Mattheo was more a verbal person than physical person. Some seemed intrigued, mostly the first years who were interested in all the older students.

"You fought Mattheo Riddle?! Are you mad? " Hermione leaned over the table with a baffled face but her eyes were stern on Harry.

Harry only shrugged his shoulders. "Maybe."

"My question is why?" y/n cut in either wide eyes as she turned to Harry and awaited his answer. The boy only opened his mouth as if to tell her something, but after a second thought he closed his mouth and only looked at her. Quiet, not answering her question.

Not getting a response from Harry was something she never really got. Therefore not getting one made her shake her head and just turn away from him with an exasperated expression. Hearing the bickering between Harry and Hermione continuing and Ron chiming in at certain times only to then let out a yelp when Hermione smacked him with her book.

She then turned, upper body rotating so she could see behind her over towards the other side of the hall. She had the luck of no Hufflepuffs sitting right behind her so she could see over towards the Slytherin table better. But as she spotted the person she had been turning to see she noticed his dark brown eyes already fixated on her.

Mattheo didn't listen to his friends who were all asking to know how he ended up looking the way he did. Only pulling his arm away when Pansy grabbed it and tried to hold his hand. Not in the mood.

His eyes stayed focused on y/n as she had turned. She, unlike many others, looked at him with just a perplexed face and not one of hate. As if she were only trying to figure out what had gone down. Mattheos stare was broken however by Theodore Nott, his elbow meeting his ribs.

"The hell do you want?" Mattheo turned to Theodore who held up his hands in retreat and shook his head.

"You know, we're just checking in on our best mate, who looks like he lost by the way." Theodore sarcastically commented ro Mattheo who took a last glance at y/n, seeing her turn at Ron saying something.

"What the hell happened to you mate?" Blaise asked from the other side of the table.

Mattheo only shook his head and picked up his goblet to take a sip of water. Pansy turned so she sat faced fully towards Mattheo and looked him over. "Honestly, I don't remember your ever being someone to become physical when mad,"

"Maybe that's because no one gives me a reason to." Mattheo rolled his eyes at the dark haired girl, not seeing the look she pulled as she turned back to Daphne Greengrass.

"No but seriously, mate, was it you and Potter? He walked in not looking much better, although he still looked better than you." Enzo said from beside the sulking platinum blonde of the group.

Mattheo didn't answer and only continued picking out what he wanted to eat. For six, almost seven years he had known who she was. He remembered her as if they were nine just yesterday and he asked her about her book. Every day after that, he thought of her and just how sweet she was. Many times he had run off from the boys home to try and see if she were there, but he never saw her again.

Not until he saw her standing next to a bushy haired girl at the age of eleven. Only, when he introduced himself to her as they walked into the Great Hall and he happened to walk next to her, she only smiled and told her name to him. No recognition, but maybe that would hit her later. But it never did.

"Did it have with Wittiher to do?" Blaise then hit his head on the nail, causing Mattheo to stop and click his tongue.

"Maybe."

"Are you actually gonna do shit about that little crush of yours on her or just sit around this year too?"

Enzo got no answer, but Mattheo was sure as hell not about to not do anything. That he was sure of.

#mattheo riddle x y/n #mattheo riddle x you #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle #mattheo x you #mattheoxreader #marcus lopez arguello x reader #marcus lopez x reader #marcus lopez arguello #marcus lopez #deadly class x reader #deadly class #harry potter x you #harry potter imagine #harry potter x y/n #harry james potter x reader #harry potter x reader #harry potter x fem!reader #harry james potter x y/n #harry james potter #harry potter #draco malfoy x y/n #draco malfoy x reader #draco x you #draco x reader #draco lucius malfoy #draco malfoy #draco malfoy x you

[juuuulez]

📰 | part four: capulet.

info: Carl Grimes x Saviour! Reader, enemies to lovers, slow burn, follows slight canon, no use of (y/n), non-graphic violence, morally grey reader.

summary: Carl and Enid are at the Hilltop colony at the same time as the Saviours’ arrival. A fight ensues.

previous | next

Thank you all soooo much for the lovely messages regarding this series!!! It’s managed to motivate me to finally finish this part. I’m on my very last few weeks of school (as in…of my life) so it’s very hectic atm, but coming on here always is a nice escape.

Next chapter will feature Carl’s breaking into the Sanctuary…. sooo a bit of fun there.

After the whole ordeal, in order to hide from Negan and the Saviours, Maggie and Sasha had relocated to the Hilltop colony. It was upsetting at first, being so far from their friends, especially as most was too busy to visit.

But not Enid.

She’d made the effort to get there, plus the company of Carl, and found that it was a rather pleasant trip. After all, who doesn’t like fooling around a little with a boy? It took away from all the pain and suffering in the world, even just for a moment.

That moment sure didn’t last long.

It was her second day at the Hilltop, and Enid was tending to some of the garden near the fences. She found life at Hilltop to be more her pace, less restricting than Alexandria. Carl was nearby, leaning against a wooden pole, keeping up the casual conversation. The two were able to talk about everything and nothing at the same time.

The Saviours were here, they knew that, but it wasn’t their problem. Another bonus of being away from Alexandria. Simon and his men mostly left them alone, likely terrorising some adults, or their leader.

Enid and Carl were mid conversation when her eyes began to drift, like they usually did. Over to that spot near the compound’s back, where two fresh graves sat. She couldn’t tear herself away.

Except this time, alarm bells went off.

You were standing right there. Next to the two plots, looking down at them. Bat in hand. It appeared merely innocent, but she knew something was up. You were evil. One of them.

Little flecks of dirt are caked on her hands from gardening, but Enid doesn’t care to wipe it off. Suddenly she’s standing, storming over there, and Carl is subject to helplessly follow as he realises what was happening.

Though Enid knew very well that you typically meant trouble, it was Carl who had an actual insight into the logic behind your violent tendencies. This was likely a confrontation you would not take lightly, given how hotheaded Enid could be.

“Wait, maybe we shouldn’t—“ Carl attempts to contain the situation, but she’s already approached you, already speaking with such a determined candour that he can only stand back and watch

“What the hell are you doing here?” Enid practically seethes, standing there next to you, on the grass.

You’d heard the footsteps before the pair approached. Therefore, you weren’t at all surprised to turn and spot Enid, basically verging on intruding your personal space. Maybe an intimidation tactic. You appeared slightly amused, metal bat in hand, hanging at your side.

“Paying my respects, obviously,” You point out, giving a nod towards the two muddied graves. That grin doesn’t falter, “Which, by the way, haven’t seen from either of you towards any of my dead. Thanks a lot.”

But then Enid is speaking again, fire on her tongue, venom laced in her words. “Your dead don’t deserve any respect. They deserve to be six feet under, goddamn scum.”

“Enid.” Carl says as somewhat of a warning, not exactly scolding, just a concern for what may come of this. It falls on deaf ears, as you are letting out a low whistle, feigning being impressed.

“My God, girly. You are cold,” It’s said in a taunting manner, stepping away from the graves, approaching Enid slowly. “Is it that time of the month, or what? Because you seemed pretty damn timid in Alexandria last week, so excuse me for being a little shocked at this confidence.”

“We are going to kill you,” Enid says, ignoring your attempts at provoking her, “And your people, and Negan. You can’t get away with this.”

You roll your eyes. This conversation, again?

“Don’t think so,” You chime, stepping closer. At this point, you are right in front of Enid, your noses could be touching if you moved any closer. “Because we already have gotten away with this. You are under our control. When will that get into your thick-as-fuck skull?”

There’s a look of anger on Enid’s face, discontent. Offence at your blatantly cocky attitude. “You talk big game, but you aren’t half the survivor you think you are.” She sneers.

It only causes your smile to grow.

“Oh, I’m not a survivor. I’m a winner,” You point out with a sense of pride, “And you, and your friends, are losers. Hence why I’m standing over their graves, and not you to mine.”

Then Enid lunges forward, but you step backwards, just enough to evade being hit. At the same time, Carl is gripping onto Enid’s forearm, pulling her backwards as he’d similarly predicted her intent to strike.

“I would not do that if I were you.” Now it’s your turn to sneer, unimpressed with the downright disobedience and attempt at appearing threatening. Though you do not fear Enid, you’re irritated with the lack of respect.

But Enid can’t stop. Her face is scrunched up, desperate to break from Carl’s hold, ready to take you down with her bare hands. “I’m gonna kill you, and then let you turn. You will live forever as a monster and you will fit right in.”

“Enid!” Carl finally scolds, sensing the rising tension, desperate to avoid letting this spiral any more. After all, he’d been there. He knew how disobedience was handled. It was a death sentence.

They don’t respect you. These people don’t. Or, Enid doesn’t. Nor does Rick. You remember your fathers words: respect is gained through examples. Show them what they have to fear. This world is no place for empty threats.

So, you swing.

There’s a bystander off to your left, you’d taken note earlier. Your metal bat makes contact with the young man’s skull, reverberating through your bones and sending the innocent person to the ground. A silence falls over Hilltop.

“Too goddamn late!” You jest, and it’s disgusting how intoxicating it feels. Their obvious fear fuels your fire, your desire to uphold this commanding persona, to never be spoken down to.

You’ve done it.

It’s evident by the shock on Enid’s face, basically pale as a ghost. By the way everyone stands there, still, waiting.

You grin, swinging the bat at your side, no longer addressing Enid and Carl, but the audience that you’ve gained throughout your squabble.

“Are you gonna help him, or what?” You suggest with a scoff, rolling your eyes. A few diverge from the crowd, kneeling in front of the man. “It’ll just be a minor skull fracture, geez. Talk about a tough crowd.”

Throwing one last look to the pair, you make your departure. Actions, not words, you reminded yourself. A demonstration.

The man is carried away, and Enid’s eyes follow the crowd that slowly dissipates. She’s horrified. She feels sick, actually. Like she may be physically ill.

Seeking validation for this terrible event, she turns to Carl. But he doesn’t appear nearly as fearful as her. He looks furious, actually.

“What was that?” He asks, brows furrowed underneath his hat. It causes Enid to do a double take, mentally checking everything that has happened.

Enid scoffs, “She‘a psycho, that’s what.”

“No, why did you say that?” Carl rephrased his question, and it’s becoming increasingly evident where his anger is directed. “What did you think was going to happen? That was your fault.”

“Bullshit!” Enid practically yells, but is quick to check her temper, not wanting to worsen the situation. “I didn’t hit him! That was all her.”

“You weren’t there, Enid. Okay? You don’t understand.” Carl emphasises, yet doesn’t wait for a reply. He steps to the side, swiftly moving forward, towards the gates of Hilltop.

Enid is left speechless.

And Carl has devised a plan.

#carl grimes x reader #the walking dead x reader #twd x reader #carl grimes #carl grimes x you #twd x you #the walking dead

[hungermakesmonsters]

Catch Me If You Can

Chapter Seven

Plot summary : When your friend interviews for a position at Anvil, you have a chance encounter with Billy Russo. He takes you for coffee and, by the time you’re done, Billy decides he’s anything but done with you.

Pairing : Billy Russo x Reader

Story Rating : R 

Chapter Rating : PG

Warnings : [This is a fic for 18+ only, minors DNI] Billy is a bit of an asshole in this one and briefly restrains reader during an argument. Also he's kind of an entitled douche. Please check the warnings on each chapter if you choose to follow this story. 

Word Count : ~2.8k

A/N : Ok, so this chapter and the next chapter technically happen on Halloween (I know, i'm super late with this, it's just how things panned out when I decided to post a chapter a week) Thanks to everyone still following this and for all the likes, comments and reblogs, y'all are awesome!!

CHAPTER ONE | CHAPTER TWO | CHAPTER THREE | CHAPTER FOUR | CHAPTER FIVE | CHAPTER SIX

Chapter Seven

You should have known that it wouldn’t be that easy to get Billy Russo out of your life, not after the night you’d shared together. 

Six days.

That was all it took before he was trying to pull you back in and you hated that you hadn’t expected it. You’d let yourself hope that your one night had been enough, that he’d managed to get you out of his system and he’d be able to move onto whatever woman caught his eye next.

And, you - you’d been trying to forget all about it, about him. You hated leaving him but you knew it was the right thing to do, your life was too messy and you knew that you’d never recover if you let yourself fall for a man like Billy and he broke your heart. You’d done what was best for the both of you, so it pissed you off that Billy didn’t seem to want to accept that.

And it pissed you off even more that he’d decided to use your job against you - a job that he’d never seemed to judge you for, that he was now using to drag you across the city because he wasn’t prepared to take no for an answer. He’d even had the audacity to pre-pay with a two hundred dollar tip, like he thought he could buy you.

By the time you got to Anvil to collect whatever it was Billy wanted you to courier, you were livid. You made your way through the lobby and up to the top floor and, eventually, found yourself in front of the secretary.

“I’m here to collect a package,” you told her.

“Mr Russo wants to hand you it personally,” she answered in a flat tone, waving her hand towards his door, barely looking up from her computer.

“Of course he does,” you sighed, “look, I’m in a rush, can’t you just get it and bring it out here?”

“That’s above my paygrade.” And something told you that that was all you were going to get from her.

So, you did the only thing that you could do; you took a deep breath and stormed into his office. He was sitting at his desk, a takeout coffee and a half eaten bagel in front of him, and when he saw you, he had the nerve to smile.

“One night, Billy, that was the agreement,” you snapped before the door had even finished closing behind you, “We had one night and now it’s done, over.”

He didn’t answer straight away, instead he buzzed the intercom and told his secretary to go get her lunch, presumably so no one would overhear you screaming at him. And, then he stood, smoothing down his suit jacket as he did, looking every bit the businessman with an offer to pitch.

“I want a new agreement,” he stated calmly, rounding his desk and stepping closer, clearing the distance between you. “Nothing is over.”

“And - what? - you think you can buy me now? You think you can just throw a two-hundred dollar tip at me and I’ll fall into bed with you?” You didn’t even try to hold back the anger and the hurt. “Does it make you feel powerful, dragging the poor little bike messenger across town to your big fancy office? Is the money because you want to fuck me or is that supposed to be payment for the other night?”

“That’s not - I didn’t mean to make you feel that way,” the hint of regret in his voice earned him no mercy from you, “I just wanted to see you, the money was so you couldn’t refuse.”

“I don’t want your money, Billy. And, for the record, when a woman sneaks out on you before you wake up, it’s because she’s done with you and doesn’t want to see you again.” You hadn’t come here with the intention of being needlessly cruel, but you needed to make Billy understand that things between you were finished. “When you care about someone you don’t go out of your way to make them feel cheap - Oh, wait, that’s right, you’re not capable of caring about anyone, are you?”

There was a flicker of hurt on his face but he was quick to recover.

“How long was it?” He asked. “How long had you gone without being fucked before me? Years, I’m guessing. You think you can go back to that after a night in my bed?”

“Who says I’m going back to that?” You answered back, and Billy didn’t like it one bit.

“You think you’re gonna find anyone who can make you feel the way I did?” Billy gave a huff of laughter, shaking his head. Some part of you knew he was right, that nothing would ever be like the night you shared, but you were angry and you weren’t going to let him win.

“Guess I’ll just have to find out,” you shrugged and his gaze darkened. “I suggest you do the same, Billy.”

“You think I haven’t tried?” He admitted angrily, and you felt like you’d just been punched in the stomach.

“What?” Rage and pain coiled inside you. Less than a week and he’d already tried to replace you. How long had it taken to fall into bed with the next one? You hated yourself for even daring to wonder. You wanted this, you wanted him to move on, but you never expected it to hurt so much. “So you dragged me here to tell me how much you want me after you’ve been fucking other women?”

“I didn’t fuck anyone. I couldn’t because of you,” and you could see just how angry that made him. “D’you think I want to feel like this? That I want to be stuck on the one woman in New York who doesn’t want me? Who doesn’t even want to use me? Have you got any idea how fucked up and broken you make me feel?”

There was a painful honesty in his words, something that he clearly saw as a weakness that needed to be overcome.

“You want to talk about feeling fucked up and broken, Billy? I told you from the start that I couldn’t do this, but you pushed and pushed until you got your way.” Your voice broke, betraying your pain, eyes desperately blinking as you tried to fight back tears. “You turned my whole fucking life upside down and now - now you’re telling me you only want me because you can’t fuck anyone else?”

Something in him seemed to break in that moment and whatever anger he’d been feeling washed away. He reached for you, fingers ghosting your cheek before you pulled away.

“Let me -”

“No, Billy. This has to stop, you have to let me move on.”

“No.”

“It’s not your choice to make.”

He took a breath and, for a second, he looked like he was going to relent. But, of course, he didn’t.

“So, that’s it? You’re gonna go fuck some random guy just to try and prove to yourself that you don’t want me as much as I want you?” His sharp tone was quick to return. “You’re gonna let some guy use you just to make a point?”

“If that’s what it takes, I -”

“Bullshit,” he shook his head, “we both know that’s not gonna happen.”

Were you really that predictable, that easy to read? Probably. He’d seen you panic, afterall. No. No. Billy-fucking-Russo didn’t get to dictate what you did or how you felt. You weren’t going to give him that power over you. No one got to have that power over you. Never Again.

Anger had you reaching out, slapping him before shoving him backwards, knocking him off balance. And, after that first stumble, you found yourself lashing out again and again, pushing Billy back across his office, and you didn’t stop until he made you. He took hold of your wrists, stopping you from pushing again.

“Fuck you!” You all but snarled at him as you struggled against his grip.

“That’s exactly what I’m asking you to do, sweetheart,” he answered back, tone matching yours.

“I’ll fuck whoever I want, Billy, and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

He gave a sharp tug on your wrists, pulling your body against his.

“I told you before; you’ve got no idea what I’m capable of. I won’t let you” He was right, you didn’t, but you found yourself remembering what Krista told you, that he was dangerous. And you started to think that maybe she was right afterall.

“You can’t stop me.” All the while, trying to pull yourself from his grip.

“Yes I can. You’re mine and I don’t let anyone touch what’s mine, sweetheart.”

“I’m not yours,” and that was when the panic started to set it. You thrashed against his hold on you, lashing out and trying to knee him in the balls. He angled himself away from you, twisting your arms and managing to turn you so your back was pressed against him.

All you could think was that he’d never let you go, that this would be your life now, completely at his mercy. You’d have to leave New York to get away from him, you’d have to uproot your whole life again. He held tight, even as your feet lifted off the ground, kicking out as you struggled, desperate to get away from him.

“Let go!” The tears that you’d been trying to hold back soon started to fall.

“Not until you calm down,” you hated the concern in his voice - he didn’t get to worry about you, not when he was doing this. “You’re gonna hurt yourself.”

“You’re hurting me!” You cried out in a strangled sob.

Billy let go of you suddenly and pulled away from you, realising that he’d fucked up. You took a few steps forward before you dared to turn back to him, and he looked broken, devastated by what he’d done. When you said he was hurting you, you meant in general, you meant the ache he caused in your chest, but Billy was looking at you terrified, like he’d done even more than that. For reasons you didn’t understand, it made your heart ache to see him like that.

“I didn’t -” he tried but there weren’t any words. Billy knew that he’d crossed a line, that he’d really fucked up. “I wasn’t trying to -”

“Just - just stop,” you finally managed, a hand clumsily trying to wipe away your tears.

“I can’t,” barely able to bring himself to look at you, “I don’t know what I did wrong. What was so bad that you can’t even bear to see me again? I don’t know how I fucked this up, you just left me and I don’t know why...”

“I -”

You hated that he was right, that you hadn’t even tried to see any of this from his point of view. This all could have been avoided if you’d done things a little differently; all the times you chose not to remind him it was just for a night, the way you’d slipped out without saying goodbye. How had he felt waking up to find you gone after the amazing night you’d shared? You hadn’t thought about it. Leaving him had been hard enough but, after everything, the least you could have done was leave a note.

What had been on his mind that night when he fell asleep wrapped around you? Had he dared to hope that he could convince you to stay? 

“What did I do?” He asked again. 

Nothing. Your night together had been perfect and it had meant so much to you.

“I thought you had a good time with me.”

“I did, but it was one night, Billy. I left because it was over.” You wanted to at least give him that, to let him know that it wasn’t him.

“It’s not over, not for me.” He dared to take a step forward, and you took a step back. The pain on his face was unbearable and it felt like everything you said only made it worse.

“It’s not a discussion, Billy. I told you this couldn’t go anywhere.” You took a few more steps, not stopping until you were by the door. “Don’t do this again. Just leave me alone. I’m not going to change my mind.”

“Yes you will.” Spoken like there wasn’t a single doubt in his mind.

“Goodbye, Billy.” You shook your head as you pulled the door open, not daring to look back, not daring to say anything else; you needed it to be over, you needed to get away from him. Thankfully, he let you leave without any fuss. But, as you made your way to the elevator and out of the Anvil building, his words kept replaying in your mind, and the more you thought about it, the angrier you got; the fact that he’d tried to move on so quickly while he thought you’d be stuck on him forever, the way he’d dared call you his when he didn’t even know you.

You finally managed to choke back your tears in the elevators and, by the time you were outside, you had your phone in your hand, texting Tammy - she’d mentioned a Halloween night out with some of Anvil’s new recruits and, suddenly, you were very interested in a night on the town. You were going to go out and you were going to prove Billy wrong.

But, you didn’t have anything to wear and that meant borrowing one of Tammy’s old Halloween outfits, all of which came with the prefix sexy. Of course you very quickly ruled out sexy nun, sexy nurse and sexy cop. And that left you with a sexy catwoman costume, consisting of a faux-leather bodysuit, cut a little low at the front, but it had long sleeves and came with a mask, so you could at least hide just how embarrassed you were. You managed to cover yourself up a little more with fishnet tights, a pair of knee high boots and a leather jacket.

At the start of the night Tammy was full of questions, wanting to know what had happened with you and Billy, and if it was going to affect her position at Anvil in any way. She knew that you’d spent the night with him, but that you’d snuck back into the apartment before six am. But, fortunately for you, once other people started showing up at the bar she lost interest in you. 

You started out in a little bar, drinking vodka and Redbull, and shots of tequila every time one was placed in front of you. Over a dozen people turned up, mostly Anvil trainee’s but a few of the office staff who worked with Tammy too. Including Michelle. But, aside from throwing you a shitty look, she stayed away, too distracted by the attention she was getting for her costume; a strapless white bodysuit, shirt cuffs, and bunny ears. It wasn’t long before the phones started coming out and people started taking pictures. You stayed in the background, enjoying your drink until it was time to move on to the club.

Before leaving the bar, you decided to dip into the bathroom, needing a moment to think about what you really wanted. Part of you just wanted to go home; you didn’t want to hook up with some random guy just to prove a point, but what other choice did you have? How else could you get Billy to finally let you go?

“I can’t believe Billy took her to the gala and not you,” the voice sounded vaguely familiar, one of Tammy’s friends. You froze, knowing that they were talking about you.

“He probably just wanted an easy lay,” Michelle. You held your breath, not even daring to move, even though some part of you wanted to storm out of the cubical and confront her. “But, tonight’s the night, I’m going to show Billy Russo just what he’s been missing out on.”

“He’s coming to the club?”

Fuck. 

“Look what I sent him,” you heard shuffling and remained completely silent, trying to figure out what was going on.

“Oh my God, you sent him a thirst trap and he fell for it.” They both laughed, finishing up whatever they’d been doing at the sink, their voices getting further away as they finally left the bathroom.

You didn’t know whether to laugh or cry - after everything he’d told you, all it had taken was a picture of Michelle to have him moving on. Was he doing it to hurt you, you wondered. He knew how it had made you feel seeing him with her in your apartment. But, that was ridiculous. Billy didn’t even know that you were there. And you realised you could turn that to your advantage; if he saw you leave with another man, he’d have to admit that it was over between you...

CHAPTER EIGHT

END NOTES : With this one being a Halloween chapter, I decided to post it a little earlier than usual and will probably post the next part within the next week before we get too close to Christmas (and also because then hopefully the chapters that are set at Christmas will be posted at an appropriate time). Also I'm sorry everyone was so shitty to reader this chapter.

Thanks for reading!!

TAG LIST

@lincerad @sweetserendipity65 @rafaelakelley @slayerofthevampire @rensolodriver @lovelydoveval @doloreschanal @uncontainedsmiles @damagelove

#billy russo #billy russo fanfic #billy russo x female reader #billy russo x reader #the punisher #cmiyc ff #ben barnes

[steamberrystudio]

31/12/2023 Devlog

Hey everyone! Time for the bi-weekly tumblr update for Steamberry stuff! Except I skipped one because I can't remember why.

I half-wrote it but I think I just wasn't feeling up to finishing and posting.

I haven't been doing extremely well health-wise lately but still powering through.

Summary

Finished writing Chapter 5.5 (the new chapter in WSC)

Finished editing Chapters 6, 7, and 8 of Asher's path

Finished all the profiles for the GS lore book

Have started wrapping up the "side stories" and additional content for the GS lore book

Ramble

Okay so in my last update I was in the middle of editing chapter 5 and was nearly to the start of chapter six in editing Asher's route. I finished up chapter 5...

At that point when I was looking ahead, I started feeling like I wanted to add in a transition scene to move between Chapter 5 and Chapter 6.

As I started plotting out this scene, one of my ideas took on a life of its own and I realised that it might be better to interject a new, fleshed out story incident that would allow me to slow the pacing as well as flesh out the setting and universe a little more. This incident would also let me tie into some earlier events and connect them to something that occurs in chapter 6, also foreshadowing the chapter 6 incident.

Ultimately, this became too much to call a "scene" and I decided to branch it off into a supplementary chapter (IE a chapter a bit shorter than the others and meant to be released along with another chapter.)

Then that chapter ended up being 30,000 words.

So that happened.

After finishing that I went on to finish editing chapters 6, 7, and 8. I am currently on chapter 9. I only have a few more chapters before I'm finished editing Asher's path. As always, during my edits, one of the main things I do is flesh things out.

So obviously the word count has grown from that (and, you know, the 30k extra chapter I invented).

Currently the word count is 468,000 words.

Other Stuff:

I have received several new BGs and a new BG sketch. BGs are continuing to come in at a fairly steady pace.

I now have all the BGs for The Ophelia and the artists are working on other locations finally. OwO

I've also been, here and there, doing small tweaks to the sprites, small additions and fixes.

Gilded Shadows:

As I mentioned, I finally got through all the character profiles. There are so many more characters than I remembered in this game.

Then I got halfway through and realised that I forgot five. And had to insert them, which...meant rearranging pages, which is a pain in the butt. However, that is now complete.

What I'm working on now is finishing up some of the short stories and drabbles I have planned or partially written out and getting them into the lore book. 

As well as gathering any other content. The lore book is currently about 350 pages. And I am really hoping to wrap it up soon.

Upcoming Weeks:

Next couple of weeks I will be trying to wrap up the lore book and wrap up editing Asher's Path.

When I finish editing Asher's path I'll be moving on to finish drafting the end sequences for the four remaining characters. I'm starting to have an idea of where the word count is going to end up but will have a better idea for sure when Asher's edit is complete.

I have written over 100,000 words since mid-August, just plugging away and trying to hit at least 1000 words a day.

I hit my year end word count goal of 466,000 words for When Stars Collide but unfortunately did not finish the draft because the draft has grown in size.

But I am really hoping to finish it early next year so we can fully move into phase 2 of When Stars Collide.

I am also hoping to get the final KS stuff resolved for Gilded Shadows early next year as well (the lore book, art book, and some residual art and stuff).

For now, I shall just keep plucking away at it until it's all done.

And that is all for now. I will see you all next year.

#gilded shadows #whenstarscollide #amare game #indie otome game #updates #devlog

[kellyvela]

If Grrm didn't scrap the 5 yrs age gap, then Sansa would be 18-19 and Jon would be 21-22 during reclaiming WF. Somewhat similar in age of Ned Cat when they enter WF after marriage.

Right, but, that "gap" wasn't really a "big" thing. George only thought about it after finishing ASOS and tried to do it while he started writing AFFC, but soon after he realized that it wouldn't work.

Q: I'm obsessed with the five-year gap you originally planned in the middle of the series. How would that have happened? GRRM: Originally, there was not supposed to be any gap. There was just supposed to be a passage of time, as the book went forward. My original concept back in 1991 was, I would start with these characters as children, and they would get older. If you pick up Arya at eight, the second chapter would be a couple months later, and she would be eight and a half and [then] she'd be nine. [This would happen] all within the space of a book. But when I actually got into writing them, the events have a certain momentum. So you write a chapter and then in your next chapter, it can't be six months later, because something's going to happen the next day. So you have to write what happens the next day, and then you have to write what happens the week after that. And the news gets to some other place. And pretty soon, you've written hundreds of pages and a week has passed, instead of the six months, or the year, that you wanted to pass. So you end a book, and you've had a tremendous amount of events — but they've taken place over a short time frame and the eight-year-old kid is still eight years old. So that really took hold of me for the first three books. When it became apparent that that had taken hold of me, I came up with the idea of the five-year gap. "Time is not passing here as I want it to pass, so I will jump forward five years in time." And I will come back to these characters when they're a little more grown up. And that is what I tried to do when I started writing Feast for Crows. So [the gap] would have come after A Storm of Swords and before Feast for Crows. But what I soon discovered — and I struggled with this for a year — [the gap] worked well with some characters like Arya — who at end the of Storm of Swords has taken off for Braavos. You can come back five years later, and she has had five years of training and all that. Or Bran, who was taken in by the Children of the Forest and the green ceremony, [so you could] come back to him five years later. That’s good. Works for him. Other characters, it didn’t work at all. I'm writing the Cersei chapters in King's Landing, and saying, "Well yeah, in five years, six different guys have served as Hand and there was this conspiracy four years ago, and this thing happened three years ago." And I'm presenting all of this in flashbacks, and that wasn't working. The other alternative was [that] nothing happened in those five years, which seemed anticlimactic. The Jon Snow stuff was even worse, because at the end of Storm he gets elected Lord Commander. I'm picking up there, and writing "Well five years ago, I was elected Lord Commander. Nothing much has happened since then, but now things are starting to happen again." I finally, after a year, said "I can't make this work." [Source]

#asks #please-dot #asoiaf #grrm #five years gap

[kingofbodyrolls]

Friendcation (m) | myg | six

← previous | s.masterlist | m.masterlist | next →

Summary: Your vacation is coming to an end but your thoughts are spiraling and filled with anxiety as a tiny mishap makes you question your future with Yoongi.

Pairing: Yoongi x reader (female)

Other characters: Jimin, Jungkook, Taehyung, Namjoon, Hoseok and Seokjin.

Genre/AU: best friends to friends with benefits to lovers, non idol!au, camping!au, roadtrip!au, mechanic!Yoongi, humor, slight angst, smut and fluff

Rating: mature/explicit/R18  (This is mature/explicit content, so minors, please do not interact.)

Disclaimer: I do not own BTS or know them personally and this work of fiction is purely fictional and for entertainment purposes only. The actions and personalities described in the story do not reflect those of BTS— it’s just fiction. Also, if you would kindly read the tags/warnings before reading, that would be lovely: and if you don’t like whatever is described in the tags, just hit return and find something else to read. Thank you 🌸

Status: completed!

Word Count: 11.3K

Warnings (general): angst, anxiety, talk about feelings and future, teasing friends and mention of pregnancy. Warnings (explicit): explicit sex, exhibitionism, voyeurism, protected sex, oral (female and male receiving), dirty talk, nipple/breast play, ass slapping, hair pulling.

Author’s note(1): Wow, these last weeks have been hard on me to be honest. For a moment I really struggled with dwindling engagement for the series, and it honestly made me want to quit the whole thing and not finish it… I had to realize who I write for (I concluded it’s for me) and whatever I receive is just a really nice bonus 🫰I felt like the decline in engagement meant you didn’t like the series (which is fine if you feel that way), but it hit me hard. I understand a part of it can be the recent long chapters (I’m truly sorry and I’ll be better at keeping it at 10K for a smoother reading experience in the future). I have so many stories in my head that I just want to put to paper, so I’m going to keep doing that. I think I’ll keep posting whatever new stuff I write in the future, because I think it’d just be a waste to have a full fanfiction parking in my Drive. 

I tried to pour my heart into the last chapters, and I’m really proud of it. To be honest, it’s mostly smut (and sexual teasing) – because well 🤷 

I really hope you enjoy this chapter (and the final one). Love you 💜

Taglist: @idkjustlovingbts, @constancelayon, @wobblewobble822, @ktownshizzle, @moonchild1, @ultimatefangirl0, @baechugff, @jimintaemin, @parapiop7, @fckkntired, @iluvfndms, @citypop-princess, @tarahardcore, @bergandysam, @massivelyfullenthusiast, @tatyhend, @gimeow *strikethrough means tumblr isn’t letting me tag you :( **you can still be added to the taglist, just drop a comment here, on any chapter or the masterlist and I’ll add you 🌸

It’s been cross posted to AO3 if you prefer to read there.

These past couple of days have left you with a strange, unsettling feeling. 

It’s not just the relentless banter from your friends, teasing you about what they term as ‘sickening love and adoration’ between you and Yoongi. 

No, there’s something more, something that eludes definition but refuses to be ignored. 

As your friends continue to jest and joke about your relationship, a knot of unease tightens in your stomach. It’s not a matter of their words bothering you; rather, it’s a lingering doubt, an unspoken concern that seems to dance at the edges of your consciousness. 

Your mind is filled with tension, and you can’t shake the feeling that something isn’t right.

It took an unusually long time for the realization to sink in – the absence of your period. 

How could you have missed something so significant? 

Perhaps it was the whirlwind of fun and excitement, the joyous moments shared with Yoongi and your friends, that allowed this crucial detail to slip through the cracks of your awareness. 

As the truth settles over you like a sudden storm, a wave of introspection crashes upon your thoughts. Why had you not noticed sooner? 

A sinking feeling settles in the pit of your stomach as you meticulously do the math, tracing back to that one moment you and Yoongi had sex without protection in the forest. 

The pieces fall into place, forming a picture of uncertainty that leaves you standing at the crossroads of emotions. 

Regret, fear, and maybe a hint of excitement swirl in a tempest within your mind. The weight of the realization becomes a stormy sea, tossing your emotions like relentless waves. You grapple with conflicting feelings, torn between the potential of new beginnings and the fear of the unknown. 

For years, you made a conscious choice to steer clear of hormonal contraception. 

The decision wasn’t made lightly; it was a journey of self-discovery and resilience against the societal norms that often dictate women’s reproductive choices. You recall the moments when hormonal contraception wreaked havoc on your body, the side effects casting shadows on your overall well-being. 

It was then that you decided it wasn’t the path for you. The journey to this decision was marked by personal reflection, moments of doubt, and a fierce determination to take control of your reproductive health. Condoms became your chosen method of both contraception and protection. The decision was not just a practical one but a statement of agency over your own body.

Sure, you’re a grown woman, and you should have been more cautious. 

The irony isn’t lost on you; after all, it only takes a few determined swimmers to set the wheels in motion for a baby. 

The realization brings a mix of emotions — surprise, anxiety, and a touch of disbelief. You can’t help but question your own judgment.

As the weight of the situation settles in, you find solace in the fact that it’s with Yoongi, a man you not only adore but love (even though you haven’t spoken those words to him yet). 

The history you share, the years of friendship and the open conversation about future possibilities soften the unexpected blow. He’s expressed openness to the idea of children down the line, creating a glimmer of hope in the midst of uncertainty.

As the revelation sinks in, your mind becomes a battlefield of conflicting emotions. 

The foremost among them is the relentless uncertainty that echoes through every corner of your thoughts. 

Did Yoongi genuinely mean what he said about wanting kids, or were those words spoken in the heat of the moment? The weight of the questions threatens to drown you, leaving you grappling with the unknown.

In the tumultuous sea of your mind, the uncertainty stands out as the dominant wave. You find yourself questioning the timing— is it too early in your relationship to venture into such uncharted territory? 

The prospect of an impending headache looms, a physical manifestation of the mental strain that accompanies the myriad thoughts swirling within your head. The room feels suddenly smaller as you navigate through the maze of emotions. 

Each question begets another, creating a web of doubts that threaten to entangle your sense of clarity.

Who knew a tiny stick could unleash a whirlwind of chaos in your mind? 

You can practically feel your thoughts spiraling faster than a rollercoaster, and you haven’t even taken a goddamn test yet! It’s like your brain decided to host its own circus without your permission.

The prospect of a simple test morphs into a mental acrobatics show, complete with somersaulting doubts and high-wire uncertainties. You catch yourself mid-thought, berating the overthinking brain of yours— Calm down, it might be nothing, right? 

As you camp in the serene outskirts of Gunsan, surrounded by the symphony of nature—crickets singing their nightly lullaby and the earthy aroma of the rural landscape—you find yourself at the crossroads of revelation. 

The revelation, however, is a delicate secret that you’re hesitant to share, not with your friends and certainly not with Yoongi, at least not until you’re certain. 

A few more days, and you’ll leave for another city, and hopefully you can sneak in a pregnancy test at a store without anyone noticing.

Amidst the bustling thoughts of your mind, your boyfriend’s voice cuts through the noise like a familiar melody. His warm, loving smile, revealing those endearing gums you adore, welcomes you back to the present. 

“Hey, babe, are you coming?” 

His voice, tinged with affection, carries a hint of playfulness. His eyes, like windows to his soul, flicker with concern as he notices a shift in your mood. A subtle furrow in his brow goes unnoticed, replaced by a comforting smile that stretches across his face.

“Yeah,” you nod in response to him. His silhouette is framed in the doorway of Holly, and the tantalizing aroma of barbecue chicken and pork wafts into the air, teasing your senses. 

The savory scent wraps around you, awakening your appetite.

A playful breeze carries the distant sounds of laughter and clinking utensils from the gathering outside. The chatter of friends intermingles with the sizzle of the grill, creating a symphony of anticipation. 

With a soft smile, he holds the door ajar, casting a warm invitation into the confined space. The golden hues of the setting sun paint the scene, casting long shadows that dance on the interior of the van.

“I’ll be right out,” you assure him. 

As you step into the outdoor feast, the savory fragrance intensifies, enveloping you in a culinary embrace.

As the sun begins its descent on your next-to-last day in Gunsan, the air becomes infused with the tantalizing scent of barbecue. Yoongi and Seokjin, the culinary maestros, have orchestrated a feast of flavors, transforming the open fire into a canvas for their culinary artistry.

The crackling flames dance beneath skewers laden with an assortment of barbecue delights – succulent chicken and pork, each morsel dripping with savory juices. The aroma, a symphony of spices and char, teases your senses and ignites a ravenous anticipation within. The sizzle and hiss of meat meeting open flame create a hypnotic melody, luring everyone closer to the culinary spectacle.

As you emerge from the cozy confines of Holly, the brisk evening air kisses your skin, carrying with it the mingling scents of grilled delights and the lively chatter of your friends. The crackling sounds of the open fire draw you closer, promising a reprieve from the whirlwind of thoughts swirling within your mind. 

A sense of gratitude swells within you. God, you love their cooking. It’s more than a meal; it’s a celebration, a manifestation of the bonds that tie you all together. 

You settle into the chair beside Namjoon, the sturdy wood offering a welcome support beneath you. 

A cool beer materializes in your hands, a gesture from Namjoon that elicits a small, appreciative smile. As the effervescent bubbles dance in the amber liquid, you find momentary distraction in the tactile sensation of condensation on the cold bottle.

The ambient hum of conversation surrounds you, friends exchanging anecdotes and laughter. However, their words become distant echoes, mere background noise, as your mind undertakes a journey into the realm of more pressing thoughts. Could you be pregnant?

The crackling of the nearby fire, the occasional gust of wind rustling the leaves, and the laughter of your friends create a symphony of sounds. Yet, within the symphony, your thoughts stand out like a solo, demanding attention.

As you take a sip of the cold beer, you suddenly remember that maybe you shouldn’t and put down the beer as you catch a fleeting glimpse of Yoongi, his eyes meeting yours with an unspoken understanding – does he somehow know?

Namjoon’s voice cuts through the haze of your thoughts, his concern palpable in the furrow of his brow and the gentleness of his inquiry. 

“What’s wrong?” he asks, his words a lifeboat in the sea of your turbulent thoughts. The concern in his eyes is mirrored by the gaze of your friends, a united front of worry that surrounds you.

“I’m fine,” you offer a weak smile, the words slipping from your lips as easily as a silk thread. The campfire’s glow dances in your eyes, casting flickering shadows that betray the turbulence within. 

You catch the subtle exchange of glances among your friends, a silent language they’ve perfected over the years.

Namjoon arches an eyebrow, a silent question lingering in the air. 

Hoseok’s voice breaks through the haze in your mind, and you blink, realizing you’ve been somewhere else entirely. He wears a furrowed brow, a genuine concern etched on his face.

“Did you even hear what we were talking about?” Hoseok’s question hangs in the air, a lifeline thrown to a drifting mind. He glances around at the others, a silent plea for confirmation that you’re still tethered to the conversation.

“I’m sorry,” you admit, a genuine apology tinting your words. You glance around at the concerned faces of your friends, a slight frown forming on Namjoon’s forehead. 

“No, my mind was elsewhere,” you confess, your eyes momentarily dropping to the beer bottle in your hand. A swirl of conflicting emotions dances in your gaze – the weight of unspoken worries, the fear of the unknown, and the delicate balance of a secret you’re not ready to share.

“Something going on?” Seokjin’s question hangs in the air, his eyes reflecting genuine concern. Normally, their fond and caring hearts would be a source of comfort, but at this moment, you wish for solitude. 

The weight of immense turmoil presses against your chest, and you offer a weak smile to mask the turbulence within.

Your heart flutters, caught between the comfort of their understanding and the fortress of secrets you’ve built around yourself. The crackling of the fire seems to intensify, a background chorus to the unspoken truth lingering in the night air.

“No, I’m fine,” you assert, but your attempt at a reassuring smile doesn’t quite reach your eyes. The weight of unspoken thoughts sits heavily on your shoulders. 

“Just tired,” you add, stretching your arms above your head in an attempt to shake off the invisible burden. The forced yawn escapes, a theatrical touch to your performance. 

As you exhale, the weariness is palpable, not just in your body but in the weary creases that temporarily mar your forehead.

You catch Yoongi’s gaze, and for a fleeting moment, his eyes betray a hint of concern. It’s a silent exchange, a language only the two of you understand. 

Worried stares linger for a moment, probing, questioning. You deflect them with a half-hearted smile, a feeble attempt to reassure both yourself and your friends. Thankfully, they relent, returning to their earlier discussion with an air of nonchalance. It’s a welcome diversion, giving you a momentary respite from the mounting unease.

But as your friends immerse themselves in chatter, your attention is captivated by Yoongi. His gaze, softer and more perceptive than the others, lingers on you with an understanding that goes beyond words. In the depths of his eyes, you sense an unspoken connection, a recognition that he, too, perceives the silent storm brewing within you. 

As the aroma of grilled meats fills the air, your thoughts drift away, carried on the scent of uncertainty. The upcoming days loom ahead, casting a shadow on your once carefree demeanor. 

Each passing moment feels like a countdown, the ticking clock resonating with the pounding of your anxious heart. The idea of taking a pregnancy test, a seemingly simple act, now carries the weight of your fate.

A symphony of laughter erupts, a harmonious cacophony that almost mimics a melody. Your gaze sweeps across the group, catching each friend lost in the infectious mirth. Their joy is palpable, manifested in hearty belly laughs and eyes crinkled with delight. 

However, as your eyes dart over to Yoongi, you notice a stark contrast.

His demeanor doesn’t mirror the jovial atmosphere; instead, his expression remains stoic, a subtle tension etched on his features. 

Your gaze flits from one friend to another, their laughter echoing in the warm air. They share an inside joke, a moment of camaraderie that has eluded you. A subtle unease settles in your chest, the feeling of being adrift in a sea of amusement, disconnected.

Caught in the undertow of your own thoughts, you find yourself lost in the laughter, unable to decipher the humor that dances between them. It’s not just a missed punchline; it’s a fleeting moment of connection slipping through your fingers.

Hoseok’s eyes light up like twin stars as he bursts out, “Now, that’s a brilliant idea!” 

His voice, brimming with infectious enthusiasm, resonates through the campsite, attempting to suppress the laughter bubbling just beneath the surface. His shoulders shake slightly with restrained mirth, and a mischievous gleam dances in his eyes, hinting at the amusement he’s struggling to contain.

The air crackles with the energy of the moment, as if Hoseok’s excitement has sparked a lively current that electrifies the entire campfire. The others catch on, their own laughter simmering beneath the surface.

You turn your gaze to Hoseok, brows furrowed in both wonder and confusion. “What’s the brilliant idea?” you ask, your voice tinged with curiosity, as if you’re about to embark on an unexpected adventure. 

Hoseok grins mischievously, his laughter evolving into soft chuckles. “We were thinking of giving you and Yoongi some alone time tomorrow,” he suggests, the glint in his eyes hinting at a secret plan. 

Seokjin smirks, his eyes twinkling with mischief. 

“So you can,” he begins, drawing out the words with a pause for dramatic effect. You roll your eyes at his theatrics, but then he raises his eyebrows suggestively. 

Suddenly, your ears and cheeks flash red as you realize the implication of his words, and the campfire bursts into laughter, leaving you caught in a delightful mix of embarrassment and amusement.

They all burst into laughter, and you catch Yoongi rolling his eyes with a mock sigh. 

You wish the ground would just swallow you up, but you manage a playful glare in his direction. “Thanks for the moral support,” you mutter under your breath, earning a teasing grin from Yoongi, who clearly enjoys the banter as much as the others enjoy the spectacle.

Yoongi nonchalantly shrugs his shoulders, his ‘I-don’t-give-a-fuck’ attitude on full display. You’re well aware he truly doesn’t care about the teasing, but no matter how many times your friends crack jokes about your intimate life, it never gets less awkward. 

You shoot Yoongi a sideways glance, raising an eyebrow. 

“Really? This again?” you quip, a playful smirk tugging at your lips. It’s a game you all play, and deep down, you know it’s all in good fun. Yet, you can’t help but wonder if they’ll ever tire of it.

“You seem like you could use it,” Namjoon adds, his voice laced with concern as he gently nudges your shoulder. 

You’ve buried your face in your hands, hoping the shield of your palms could protect you from the lingering embarrassment. The laughter of your friends echoes around you, but you can’t bring yourself to look up just yet. 

The warmth of Namjoon’s touch seeps through your hands, a comforting gesture amidst the teasing storm. As you finally gather the courage to peek through your fingers, you catch a glimpse of his reassuring smile, a silent understanding passing between friends. It’s moments like these that make you appreciate the bonds you’ve built, even if they come with their fair share of playful ribbing.

“Please don’t say stuff like that.” 

You plead, the cringe evident in your voice as you instinctively recoil. A shiver of discomfort crawls down your spine, and you find yourself desperately wishing for an escape from the awkwardness that lingers in the air. 

The weight of their words presses on you, and you subtly shift, trying to distance yourself from the subject at hand. The vulnerability of the moment tugs at your conscience, leaving you exposed in the face of their laughter.

“With that stunt you pulled at the restaurant, I think you have a lot of pent up sexual frustration.”

Hoseok chuckles, and the teasing tone in his voice causes your cheeks to flush with embarrassment. You shift uncomfortably in your seat, memories of that daring encounter at the restaurant flooding your mind. 

The heat rises in your face as you recall the unexpected aftermath, as you had walked out to the table with Yoongi’s cum on your face, and a wave of self-consciousness washes over you. 

The campfire suddenly feels too warm, and you find yourself desperately wishing to change the subject. Hoseok’s laughter lingers in the air, a constant reminder of that daring escapade, and you try to suppress the vivid images that threaten to resurface.

“And we would rather not be here when you let off some steam,” Seokjin adds, his laughter echoing through the air. You roll your eyes playfully, a mix of amusement and embarrassment coloring your expression.

The teasing banter continues, and you sense the warmth of embarrassment creeping up your neck. 

A fleeting glance at Yoongi reveals his nonchalant demeanor, his composure unbroken. Inspired by his cool attitude, you decide to take a page from his book. With a smirk and a playful glint in your eyes, you raise an eyebrow at your friends, challenging them to bring it on. 

“Thanks,” you say with a mischievous glint in your eyes, looking around your friends. 

“I could definitely use a good fuck and Yoongi’s thick cock just hits all the right spots,” you chuckle, adding a playful wink to your statement. The campfire falls silent and it’s almost deafening. 

“So thank you so much for thinking about my vagina and Yoongi’s dick. It’s really appreciated and we’ll look forward to tomorrow.” You say with a mischievous twinkle in your eye.

As your friends sit in stunned silence, you bask in the unexpected power of your words. 

With a confident grin, you raise your beer and offer a casual shrug. 

“What can I say? You asked for it!” 

Your tone exudes a mix of playful confidence and nonchalance. Meanwhile, Yoongi’s proud gaze intensifies, and you can almost hear him whispering, ‘Well done’ without uttering a word.

As the weight of your words settles in the air, Namjoon breaks the silence with a low whistle. “Well, I guess that’s one way to shut us up,” he chuckles, shaking his head in both disbelief and amusement. 

The group erupts into a mixture of nervous laughter and awkward glances, uncertain of how to respond to your unexpected boldness. You’ve found a bottle of ice cold water and take a sip of it, maintaining your confident demeanor, and exchange a knowing glance with Yoongi, who seems thoroughly entertained by the unfolding scene.

The remainder of the meal unfolds in a symphony of laughter, shared stories, and the clinking of utensils against plates. Conversations shift seamlessly between topics, from future plans to nostalgic memories. The camaraderie of your group takes center stage, overshadowing the earlier teasing. 

Each moment is filled with genuine connection, reminding you of the unique bond you share.

The midday sun casts a warm glow over your lunch with friends, the flickering flames of the campfire dancing in the background. Laughter intertwines with the aroma of yesterday’s leftovers, creating an atmosphere that is both familiar and tinged with anticipation. 

As you savor each bite, you can’t help but feel a subtle tension in the air, a delicate undercurrent that stems from the impending alone time with Yoongi.

Your friends, oblivious to the internal struggle you’re facing, continue to share stories and jokes, but your mind keeps drifting back to the unspoken dilemma that lingers like a shadow. 

The prospect of finally being alone with Yoongi excites you, yet the fear of him unraveling your internal turmoil weighs on you.

The crackling fire mirrors the conflicting emotions within you, casting shadows on the faces of your friends. You steal glances at Yoongi, wondering if he senses your unease.

The sun hangs high in the sky, casting a golden hue over the campsite as your friends bid you farewell after a satisfying lunch. 

There’s a subtle understanding among them, a shared unspoken decision to give you and Yoongi the precious gift of time alone. As they discuss their plans to explore the nearby town, you can’t help but appreciate the warmth of their friendship and the unspoken support they provide.

With cheerful goodbyes, your friends set off, leaving behind a trail of laughter that gradually fades into the distance. 

Now, as the tranquility of the campsite settles around you, there’s a palpable shift in the atmosphere. The rustling leaves and distant chirping of birds create a serene backdrop, underscoring the anticipation of the solitude that awaits you and Yoongi.

Turning towards each other, you and Yoongi share a knowing glance, a silent acknowledgment of the precious moments ahead. 

The air is charged with a mix of excitement and intimacy as you prepare for this secluded interlude, grateful for the thoughtfulness of your friends who understood the significance of this time for you and your boyfriend.

As you and Yoongi cocoon yourselves in the comforting confines of Holly, the air becomes infused with a sense of tranquility. 

The soft glow of his laptop casts a gentle illumination, creating an intimate bubble within the vehicle. The flickering light from the laptop dances across your faces, casting shadows that playfully intertwine with the laughter and stolen glances. 

As Yoongi’s lips graze the delicate expanse of your shoulders, a shiver dances down your spine, eliciting a delicate sigh of contentment. 

His nuzzles become a tender exploration, mapping the contours of familiarity that make your body a cherished landscape for him. The warmth of his touch creates a cocoon, enveloping you in a sanctuary where time seems to linger.

You revel in the softness of the moment, the gentle pressure of Yoongi’s affectionate gestures making you feel cherished and understood. The rhythmic pattern of his nuzzles mirrors the quiet cadence of your breaths, creating a silent language that speaks volumes in the tranquil cocoon you’ve woven together.

Yoongi’s fingers, like skilled maestros, trail a symphony of comfort across your shoulder, their tender dance ascending to the curve of your neck. 

As his touch transforms into a soothing massage, you feel the knots of tension unravel beneath his fingertips. The rhythmic kneading becomes a balm, dissolving the worries that had taken residence in the recesses of your mind.

In the gentle cadence of his strokes, you find a haven where each movement is a whispered assurance, a silent promise that you’re not alone in whatever may be troubling you. 

The warmth of his hands carries an unspoken invitation to share the burdens of your heart, creating a space where vulnerability is embraced. As his fingers work their magic, the stresses of the day seem to dissipate, carried away on the currents of his affectionate touch. 

The sensation is both physical and emotional, a tangible reminder that you have someone by your side who cares deeply for you.

Yoongi’s voice, soft and laced with concern, further reinforces the sanctuary of this moment. 

“What’s wrong, babe?” 

He inquires, his words a lifeline thrown into the sea of your thoughts. The genuine curiosity in his eyes invites you to open up, to let the weight of your troubles be shared and lightened by the strength of your bond.

In the cocoon of Yoongi’s touch, you find solace and a momentary escape from the complexities swirling within. His fingers, tracing soothing patterns on your shoulder, evoke sensations that transcend the physical. 

As you sink deeper into the bliss of his massage, the barriers around your heart momentarily soften, allowing vulnerability to seep through.

“I don’t want to talk about it yet.” You confess, the words slipping from your lips like a whispered secret. The timbre of your voice, tinted with a mixture of fragility and desire, hangs in the air. In this moment, you feel pliable, molded by his care and affection.

With a tenderness that mirrors the flickering warmth of a candle, Yoongi turns your gaze toward his, locking eyes with a sincerity that speaks volumes. His touch is both a reassurance and an unspoken promise, a reminder that within this cocoon of shared vulnerability, there exists a haven for your thoughts and emotions.

“Okay.” He utters, the word carrying the weight of understanding and patience. In the silent exchange of glances, there’s a recognition that time unfolds at its own pace, and the space he provides is a canvas for your unspoken words to manifest.

As he cradles your face in his hands, his touch becomes a conduit for reassurance, a silent pledge that he’ll be there when you decide to unravel the intricacies of your thoughts. 

“I’m here when you’re ready to talk.”

The depth of his gaze invites trust, assuring you that this haven isn’t bound by a ticking clock or the urgency of spoken words.

In the quiet cocoon of Holly, gratitude for Yoongi blooms within you like a delicate flower. His intuitive understanding, the way he navigates the uncharted waters of your emotions, is a testament to the depth of his love. It’s more than just appreciation; it’s a profound acknowledgment of the bond you share.

As you rest against him, the subtle rise and fall of his chest a comforting rhythm, the weight of your feelings finds solace. His ability to read the unspoken nuances, to dance with the ebb and flow of your emotions, is a symphony of understanding. 

It’s not just about giving you space; it’s about crafting a sanctuary where vulnerability is met with patience, and time is a gentle companion.

In these moments, the love you harbor for him swells, an ocean of emotions that transcends the need for words. His presence becomes a balm, soothing the edges of uncertainty, and you find yourself enveloped in a warmth that extends beyond the physical.

You revel in the simplicity of his knowing glances and the way he respects the sacredness of your thoughts. It’s the silent assurance that he’ll stand by you, unmoved by the passing seconds, until you’re ready to unfurl the chapters of your heart.

“I can help you take your mind off whatever’s troubling you?”

His lips linger on yours, leaving the taste of warmth and affection as a gentle reminder that in his embrace, solace awaits. The simplicity of his offer carries a wealth of unspoken understanding, a silent promise to be your anchor in the sea of uncertainties.

As he speaks those words, his eyes, windows to a soul that intimately knows yours, search for a sign in the language only you two share. 

There’s an invitation in the way he holds you, an unspoken pledge to share the weight of your troubles.

Perhaps, in the sanctuary of each other’s presence, you can find respite from the storm brewing within. His touch, a soothing melody, offers an escape into a realm where words are unnecessary, where the language of love becomes a salve for the wounds of the heart.

You consider his offer, the genuine concern etched on his face, and for a moment, you allow yourself to be carried away by the prospect of a temporary reprieve. 

The weight of his desire reflects in the shadowed depth of his gaze, a silent confession that transcends words. His eyes, normally a window to his soul, now betray the subtle dance of passion and want. As you lock eyes with him, you find yourself ensnared in the magnetic pull of his longing, a current that sparks anticipation.

The soft droop of his eyelids harbors a secret world, one where desire takes the lead and whispers promises only lovers understand. There’s a languid rhythm to the way his gaze caresses, each blink a heartbeat echoing the pulse of the moment.

In the subdued light, the flames of passion flicker within those dark orbs, leaving an indelible impression of the fire that smolders beneath the surface. You feel the intensity of his silent plea, a plea that beckons you to acknowledge the uncharted territory where your desires intertwine.

“I wouldn’t say no to that.”

A playful chuckle escapes your lips, a mischievous melody that dances in the air, echoing the lighthearted rhythm of your connection. 

As you lean in, your teeth graze the edge of his bottom lip, not just in a tease, but in a silent declaration of your shared desire. The playful nip is a prelude to the symphony of sensations waiting to unfold.

His responding grunt is a low, primal note, a testament to the delicious tension building between you.

As you pull away, a knowing glint in your eyes, you leave behind a promise lingering in the air—a promise of the unrestrained passion that simmers just beneath the surface, waiting to be set free. 

“Then lay down and let me make you forget your own name.”

A surge of anticipation electrifies the air as his words wrap around you, a sultry promise that sends shivers down your spine. The confidence in his voice resonates, a magnetic force pulling you deeper into the allure of the moment. You surrender to the rhythm of his suggestion, feeling the weight of the world lifting as he guides you gently to recline.

His eyes, dark pools of anticipation, reflect a hunger that transcends the constraints of time. There’s a deliberate slowness to his movements, a silent vow to savor every nuance of pleasure that unfolds between you.

As he expertly slides down your sweatpants (you did not steal those from Yoongi, you swear!) he unveils your desire-laden form, leaving you in nothing but your panties. The room seems to hum with a charged energy as his eyes meet yours, the spark of lust reflected in that magnetic gaze. 

Your longing gaze locks onto him, capturing the fiery essence of your arousal. His long, ebony locks frame his handsome face.

“You know you’re so damn beautiful, right?” 

He murmurs, his fingers orchestrating a slow, tantalizing symphony as they traverse the path from your toes, ascending with deliberate grace up the landscape of your legs. Each stroke is a promise, a prelude that sends a shiver of anticipation racing through your veins, your skin awakening with goosebumps.

The sensation is electric, every inch of your skin tingling with anticipation. The journey of his touch creates a symphony of shivers that dance in harmonious tandem with your rising desire. 

Your cheeks flush with a rosy hue as his gaze lingers on your legs. Feeling a twinge of self-consciousness, you stammer, “Um, don’t pay too much attention to my legs. I haven’t shaved recently,” your words escape in a hushed admission, and you instinctively attempt to shield your face from his gaze.

His fingers delicately peel away the protective shield you’ve built with your hands, revealing your blushing cheeks and the vulnerability that lingers in your eyes. 

A soft hiss escapes his lips, and his gaze intensifies with a fiery determination. “I don’t care,” he declares, his voice a low, husky murmur that hangs in the air, “every inch of you is beautiful.”

He gently tilts your chin up, meeting your eyes with an affectionate gaze. He reassures you, his fingers tracing a delicate path along your jawline, his touch a comforting affirmation that transcends the superficial. 

There’s an intensity in his words, a raw honesty that sends shivers down your spine. 

A soft moan escapes your lips in response to his words, the praise sinking into the depths of your being. Your breath quickens, and a tingling warmth begins to pool between your thighs, a visceral reaction to the arousal ignited by his intimate acknowledgment. 

The air around you thickens with anticipation, and you can feel the subtle friction as your panties cling to your skin, a tactile reminder of the desire that courses through your veins.

His hands, like gentle phantoms, trace tantalizing patterns over the fabric covering your core. The teasing caresses send shivers down your spine, creating an electric dance of anticipation on your skin. 

As his fingers weave through the unseen pathways, you find yourself instinctively arching your back, a silent plea for more, a desire that threads through the very fibers of your being.

Each feather-light stroke becomes a whisper of promises, a seductive invitation that beckons you to surrender to the impending ecstasy. The subtle friction against your clothed core intensifies the yearning, creating a magnetic pull that draws you closer to the edge of desire.

The anticipation in the room crescendos as Yoongi, his eyes heavy with desire, firmly grips the edge of your panties. 

A subtle yet deliberate tug sends a thrill through your body, and you instinctively arch your back, offering yourself to him in a silent dance of longing. Your ass lifts in a graceful surrender, a gesture that speaks volumes without the need for words, inviting him to unveil the secrets hidden beneath the fabric.

He slowly peels your panties down your legs, each inch of exposed skin kindling the flames of desire. His unhurried touch is both a torment and a pleasure, awakening a craving within you that only he can satisfy. 

The fabric trails over your thighs, leaving a tingling sensation in its wake. As your panties reach your ankles, you find yourself teetering on the edge of vulnerability and excitement, the cool air of the room caressing the newly exposed skin.

The pace is torturous, yet the sweet torment only adds to the fervor of your need for him. Your breath catches, and your heart pounds in rhythm with the silent crescendo of desire, as he takes his time, savoring every moment of the seduction.

Yoongi’s lips descend with a feather-light touch, igniting a cascade of sensations that ripple through your core. The warmth of his breath, coupled with the gentle press of his lips against your clit, creates an electrifying dance between pleasure and anticipation.

“Already so damn wet for me.”

His words, a whispered declaration against your skin, send a jolt of desire straight through you. The tenderness in his kiss contrasts with the building heat, a delicious paradox that has your body responding eagerly to his every move. Your body aches for the touch of his hands, for the intimacy that promises to follow his seductive declaration.

As he explores the delicate contours of your pussy, his hands expertly coax your legs apart, allowing for an unhindered journey into the realms of ecstasy.

The velvety caress of his tongue on your most sensitive spot sends shockwaves of pleasure cascading through you. Your body, a canvas for his artistry, responds with an involuntary moan, a testament to the electric connection forged between you. 

Each languid stroke, each artful flick, becomes a brushstroke painting a masterpiece of desire.

With an artful blend of tenderness and hunger, he delves into the intimate landscape, leaving no territory uncharted. The sight of him, a devoted architect of pleasure, navigating the peaks and valleys of your pussy, etches a sinful image in your memory, a visual symphony that resonates with the raw, primal energy between you.

His exploration is thorough, a sacred pilgrimage that transforms your most intimate sanctuaries into altars of pleasure. 

As his tongue dances with purpose, each exquisite movement sends ripples of pleasure through your body, eliciting gasps and moans that punctuate the charged air.

Your fingers entwine in the velvety strands of his midnight-black hair, a tactile dance that blurs the lines between pain and pleasure. The sensation of your grip sends a seismic shiver through him, a tangible expression of the fusion between your desire and his arousal. 

His groan, a harmonious blend of both agony and ecstasy, resonates in the intimate space between you. 

His adept tongue orchestrates a tantalizing symphony, each rhythmic stroke sending waves of pleasure through your core. The artful dance of his lips and tongue creates a crescendo of desire, a masterful performance that leaves you gasping for breath.

As he delves deeper into the artistry of your desire, his movements evoke the most primal and exquisite sounds — a melodic fusion of slurping and sighs that harmonize with the symphony of your escalating pleasure. 

In the languid exploration of your body, his tender touch becomes a testament to the depth of his affection. Each deliberate caress is a celebration of intimacy, as if he’s unraveling the layers of your being to expose the essence of your bond. 

The unhurried pace of his movements whispers of a profound appreciation for the canvas of your skin, savoring every nuance as if committing the map of your body to memory.

The love you feel for him, and the love he showers upon you, intertwine like vines, creating a tapestry of shared passion that envelops both of you in its rich, intricate patterns.

As you lie there, engulfed in the warmth of his adoration, an unexpected realization strikes you — he possesses the qualities of an extraordinary lover and, perhaps, an incredible father. 

Your mind, caught in the whirlwind of emotions, begins to spiral. It’s not a descent into chaos; rather, it’s an ascent into your possible future. The thought flickers through your mind like a gentle flame, casting a soft glow on the image of your shared moments. How loving he would be towards a child, how amazing he would be. You can feel the telltale signs of anxiousness slowly seeping into your body.

In this moment, you can’t help but acknowledge the depth of your feelings for him. Damn, you love him so much.

As Yoongi tenderly explores the landscape of your pussy, your mind, like an unwelcome guest, insists on revisiting the uncertainties that have been haunting you. The touch that should be a remedy becomes a battleground between the present moment and the lingering worries that threaten to steal your focus.

In this emotional tug-of-war, you find yourself caught between the desire to surrender to the sensations and the compulsion to confront the uncertainties head-on. 

As Yoongi’s skilled touch ventures into your warm walls, your senses respond with an electrifying awareness. The moment he slips a finger inside, a surge of pleasure cascades through you, momentarily eclipsing the persistent thoughts that have plagued your mind. 

The explicit bond between you and Yoongi becomes a lifeline, grounding you in the immediate sensations that demand your attention.

“Ah, fuck,” you moan, wanting more of his electrifying touch.

In a slow and deliberate rhythm, Yoongi withdraws his finger, creating an exquisite tension that leaves you yearning for more. The anticipation builds as he re-enters, his finger becoming a conduit for both pleasure and promise. 

With every measured thrust, the world around you blurs, and the only reality is the electrifying connection between you and him.

As his finger dances within you, the dual sensation of his intimate exploration and the tantalizing strokes on your clit forms a harmonious symphony of ecstasy. It’s a delicate balance between sweet torture and the promise of release, a dance that makes you teeter on the edge of losing yourself entirely.

Your mind, once clouded with uncertainty, now revels in the intoxicating sensations he elicits. 

Each stroke of his finger becomes a stroke of liberation, freeing you from the shackles of doubt and leading you into a realm where pleasure reigns supreme.

As he introduces a second finger into the dance of pleasure, a new dimension of sensation unfolds. The subtle stretch sends tendrils of pleasure through you, and you find yourself instinctively meeting his every thrust. 

His fingers, now working in tandem, navigate the depths of your pussy with an intimate familiarity. Each calculated movement is a testament to his skill, an artful exploration of your most sensitive realms. 

As he delves deeper, you can’t help but surrender to the crescendo of pleasure building within you. The hunger for more intensifies, an insatiable craving that propels you both into uncharted territory.

The precipice of pleasure looms ever nearer, a tantalizing edge that threatens to consume you entirely. Every caress, every thrust brings you to the brink, and the intensity becomes almost overwhelming. The electric current of desire courses through your veins, a pulsating reminder of the ecstasy that hangs in the air.

Your breaths come in shallow gasps, mirroring the urgency of your body’s response to the impending release. 

“Yoon, I’m so close!” 

The words escape your lips in breathless pants, carried on the wings of passion that envelop both of you in a cocoon of desire.

The room is filled with the husky hum of satisfaction as he skillfully introduces a third finger into the delicate equation, causing your breath to hitch in a symphony of pleasure. 

The subtle, rhythmic sound of your mewls, like a sweet melody, harmonizes with the intoxicating atmosphere of shared desire.

A whirlwind of thoughts engulfs your mind, a tempest of emotions and musings that dance in a chaotic waltz. It’s as if a storm of contemplation has descended upon the landscape of your consciousness, leaving you breathless and slightly disoriented.

His teasing suction on your clit becomes a rhythmic pulse, each pull and release sending ripples of sensation through your body. Your spine arches involuntarily, a physical manifestation of the pleasure that courses through you like a current. 

Your breath catches in your throat, a melody of moans and gasps escaping in harmony with the rising pleasure.

You’re losing yourself in the cadence of pleasure, surrendering to the rising tide that threatens to pull you under.

As his fingers expertly navigate the landscape of your pussy, seeking out the elusive treasure of your G-spot, the anticipation within you becomes a taut string, ready to unravel in the most euphoric crescendo.

Each deliberate stroke against your G-spot is a seismic pulse, sending shockwaves of pleasure through your core.

The knot in your stomach tightens with every rhythmic press of his fingers, the tension reaching a point where it can no longer withstand the impending release. 

As the wave of climax crashes over you, every muscle in your body tightens, a testament to the intensity of the pleasure coursing through your veins.

The sheer power of the moment finds its voice in a raw, unrestrained scream of his name, a primal melody that reverberates through the van. The sound is a visceral release, an unbridled declaration of pleasure that echoes in the air.

Simultaneously, your vision blurs, the world reduced to a kaleidoscope of colors as tears stream down your cheeks.

In the aftermath of your climax, Yoongi moves with a swiftness that speaks volumes about his care and concern. 

He withdraws from your core, his face adorned with the glistening remnants of your orgasm. The concern etched across his features mirrors the tenderness in his touch as he strokes your cheeks, his fingertips collecting the tear-streaked evidence of your emotional release.

“What’s wrong, babe?” he inquires, his voice a gentle melody that resonates with genuine care.

As the haze of passion begins to dissipate, you become acutely aware of the tears streaming down your face, each droplet a silent witness to the complex interplay of pleasure and emotion. 

It’s a realization that unfolds gradually, like the petals of a delicate flower unfurling under the touch of the morning sun.

Your eyes flutter open, meeting Yoongi’s concerned gaze, the soft orbs reflecting a myriad of emotions—care, tenderness, and a silent inquiry. The unspoken question hangs in the air, inviting you to share the intricate tapestry of feelings that now envelop you.

As you tenderly cup his face, the warmth of your touch conveying a myriad of unspoken emotions, you draw him into a soft, lingering kiss. The sensation is a delicate dance, a symphony of lips meeting in a silent exchange that transcends the need for words. In that fleeting moment, the world outside ceases to exist, and all that remains is the intimate connection between your souls.

As your lips meet, there’s a subtle play of emotions on his face—confusion mingled with a growing awareness. It’s as if your kiss serves as a revelation, unraveling layers of uncertainty and paving the way for a deeper understanding. 

“I’m…” you choke on the words, the weight of them hanging heavy in the air. Your voice trembles, a symphony of vulnerability as you muster the courage to confess, “I’m late.”

He sits up on his knees, the subtle play of emotions flickering across his face—confusion, concern, and a tinge of fear that he’s trying to mask. 

The world around you seems to pause, caught in the gravity of the revelation. The soft glow of the room casts shadows on his features, emphasizing the lines of his furrowed brow and the intensity of his gaze.

“My period.” You exhale the words, each syllable a confession carrying the weight of uncertainty. The air in the van seems to crystallize as the truth hangs in the space between you two, a revelation that both defines and challenges the contours of your shared reality. 

There’s a palpable shift, a seismic ripple that traverses the emotional landscape.

As you release those two words into the room, you can almost sense the burden lifting from your shoulders, the unspoken fears and the silent cacophony of questions dissipating. 

Yoongi’s ‘oh’ escapes his lips like a subtle revelation, a key turning in the lock of understanding. His laughter, a melodic cascade of mirth, breaks the tension that hangs in the air, diffusing it like a gust of wind through a dense forest. As he laughs, his eyes crinkle at the corners, and you can’t help but be captivated by the sheer joy that emanates from him.

You turn to him, an arched brow, an unspoken inquiry, a silent prompt for an explanation to unravel the mystery of his amusement. 

“Is this what has been on your mind lately?” 

Yoongi’s chuckle resonates in the air, wrapping the room in a light, casual ambiance. As the sound tickles your ears, you find yourself frowning, an unexpected twist in his reaction catching you off guard. This wasn’t the response you anticipated, and it leaves a flicker of confusion in your eyes.

His chuckle, like a riddle yet to be unraveled, compels you to seek clarity. The lines on his face soften into a playful smile, but you sense there’s more beneath the surface—layers of emotion waiting to be uncovered.

You gracefully sit up, your hands instinctively finding support behind you. As you rise, there’s a subtle grace in your movements, a dance of poise and strength. 

His voice, a soothing melody, envelops you in a comforting embrace as he reassures, “It’s okay, babe.” There’s an innate understanding in his tone, a blend of empathy and strength that makes you feel seen and supported.

As he utters those words, his eyes become a safe haven, inviting you to share the weight of your concerns. You notice a subtle glint of concern, a reflection of his genuine care for your well-being. It’s not just a question; it’s an invitation to share the burden, a bridge to traverse the uncertain terrain together.

“Have you taken a test yet?”

Your head shakes with a slow, deliberate motion, a silent admission that echoes in the stillness between you two. “We haven’t really been close to a store these couple of days,” you mumble, your words carrying the weight of circumstance and a touch of vulnerability.

Yoongi’s voice carries a soothing cadence, a melody of reassurance that wraps around you like a comforting embrace. 

“Then you can take one when we get to Ansan, and then we’ll know, okay?” His words resonate with a mix of tenderness and practicality, casting a lifeline of certainty in the sea of uncertainties.

Your voice trembles with genuine curiosity as you turn to Yoongi, searching for the calm center in the storm of your emotions. 

“How are you so okay with this?” The question lingers in the air, heavy with the weight of your uncertainty.

“I told you before. I want kids, so I don’t mind. And I love you,” his voice, filled with a sincere tenderness, caresses your ears like a cherished melody, a symphony of reassurance. As Yoongi’s words wash over you, carrying the warmth of his love, you find yourself enchanted by the sincerity in his voice.

“I love you too!” 

Your words spill forth like a cascade, infused with a passion that dances in the air. The sincerity in your voice creates a melody that resonates in the space between you and Yoongi, a sweet harmony of shared emotions. He can’t help but chuckle, a tender sound that mingles with the affectionate atmosphere, like a secret language only the two of you understand.

“Whatever happens, we’ll face it together. Pregnancy or not, I want to be with you,” he declares, sealing his words with a kiss that carries the weight of unwavering commitment.

“Now lay back down so I can make sweet love to you,” he murmurs with a playful slap on your ass, drawing a light chuckle from you. As you comply with his request, the air crackles with anticipation, and the van seems to buzz with the shared energy of desire.

With your tears now dried, a renewed sense of elation washes over you, lifting you into a state of weightlessness. The earlier worries and anxieties have dissipated, leaving behind a serene anticipation for his tender touch. 

With a subtle yet confident movement, he draws you back up, skillfully assisting you in shedding your shirt. The air crackles with a charged energy as he guides you back down, each motion deliberate and unhurried. 

As he hovers above, fully clothed, a sudden intensity sweeps over the room. 

He descends urgently, his lips finding yours in a searing kiss that eclipses time. The embrace is fervent, a fusion of desire and hunger. He bites your bottom lip, a delicious intrusion that elicits a gasp, and as your mouths meld, tongues entwining in an intricate dance, the van seems to vibrate with the electric charge of longing. 

His moan reverberates within you, sending delightful shivers down your spine.

His hands travel down your body, his destination becomes clear as his lips find your breasts. A wave of pleasure courses through you as he takes one of them into his mouth, his tongue dancing with a rhythmic intensity. Simultaneously, his hand expertly caresses and squeezes the other, creating a symphony of sensations that leaves you breathless, lost in the exquisite rhythm of his touch.

His mouth envelops your nipple, coaxing it into a hard bud as he skillfully circles his tongue around it. The teasing bites send electric pulses of pleasure through your body, and you can’t help but moan in ecstasy. 

A surge of arousal courses through your body, igniting every nerve and leaving you acutely aware of the growing intensity between you and Yoongi. 

It’s as if a tidal wave of desire has been unleashed, sweeping away any lingering tension and leaving only the magnetic pull drawing you both closer.

Yoongi shifts his attention to your other breast, and a shiver runs down your spine as his skillful tongue creates a tingling sensation that sends waves of pleasure through your body. Each gentle bite and swirl of his tongue feels like a carefully orchestrated symphony, and you can’t help but arch your back in response to the electrifying pleasure he’s unleashing.

Your breath quickens, and the anticipation of another orgasm builds within you.

Yoongi, attuned to your heightened arousal, allows his free hand to navigate the landscape of your pussy. With deliberate intent, his fingers find your throbbing clit, and a jolt of pleasure courses through you as he gives it a teasing pinch. 

The dual sensations from both his mouth on your breast and his skilled fingers dancing on your most sensitive spot send shivers down your spine, amplifying the intensity of the moment.

“Ah!” an involuntary cry of pleasure escapes your lips, a raw and unfiltered expression of the ecstasy coursing through your body. Your breaths come in ragged pants, each exhale a testament to the overwhelming sensations Yoongi is coaxing from you.

His fingers dance skillfully over your clit, expertly pushing you closer to the edge. Simultaneously, his warm tongue flicks sensuously across your nipple, intensifying the pleasure coursing through your veins. 

In a crescendo of sensation, the knot in your stomach unravels, and you succumb to the powerful waves of ecstasy crashing over you. 

Ecstasy courses through every fiber of your being, causing your toes to curl involuntarily. Your breath comes in hurried pants, and the world around you blurs into a hazy abstraction.

As you slowly open your eyes, you find yourself ensnared in the gaze of Yoongi, his eyes reflecting an ocean of love that threatens to engulf your very soul. In those deep pools of affection, you sense an unwavering connection, a silent promise that transcends words. 

“I don’t think it’s fair that I’m the only one completely naked,” chuckling, you playfully swat at Yoongi’s sculpted chest.

With a surge of desire, you sit up, pushing him backward. The room crackles with anticipation as you grab his shirt, flinging it haphazardly onto the bed. Your lips crash against his in a hungry kiss, an unspoken urgency that reveals the depths of your longing for his touch.

Your fingers trail a fiery path down his chest. The heat between you intensifies as your hands venture lower, reaching the confines of his pants where a pronounced bulge yearns to be released—a silent plea echoing the passion that simmers beneath the surface.

In a fleeting moment of daring desire, you tease him with the tantalizing touch of your hand through the fabric, evoking a frustrated moan that hangs in the air. With an intoxicating mix of boldness and anticipation, you deftly pull down his pants and boxers, unveiling his throbbing dick.

As the last barrier of clothing drops away, leaving him gloriously exposed before you, he joins in the mirth, a playful chuckle escaping his lips. With an affectionate gleam in his eyes, he guides you back down, eager to continue the symphony of passion that has only just begun.

As his lips meet yours in a tender dance, his eyes lock onto yours, a silent exchange of emotions passing between those beautiful orbs. In that moment, it’s as if the entire cosmos is reflected in the depths of your gaze, and the world outside fades into insignificance.

As he reaches for a condom, you raise a questioning eyebrow at him.

“One last time before we find out if you’re pregnant or not?” 

With a playful smirk, Yoongi holds the foil in front of you, his question hanging in the air like a sweet promise. 

As the anticipation lingers in the air, you find yourself questioning the necessity of the condom. The unspoken desire for a deeper connection, to feel him without barriers, tugs at your thoughts. Yet, you understand the significance of this moment, a delicate balance between shared passion and the impending revelation. 

It’s a bittersweet dance, the choice wrapped in a poignant acknowledgment of the unknown future, making this last embrace all the more meaningful.

“Fine, one last time then.” 

A playful chuckle escapes your lips as you surrender to the shared decision. 

With a mischievous glint in your eyes, you wrap your fingers around his impressive hardness. A playful stroke elicits a deep, appreciative moan from him, resonating in the air like a sweet melody of desire.

His breath hitches, and he whispers, “You don’t have to, babe,” the words laced with desire. 

“I still want you to forget your name,” he whispers against your ear, his breath creating a delicate dance of sensations that sends shivers down your spine. 

You hum, a pleased and sultry melody resonating through your words. “But I want to. Please let me suck you; you taste so good.” 

He pants, his breath hitched with a blend of desire and amusement. 

“Fuck,” he mutters, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. “How can I say no to those sweet eyes and that dirty mouth of yours?” 

With a languid motion, he settles back on the bed, creating an inviting space for you between his well-defined legs. 

You crawl between his legs, a mischievous smirk playing on your lips. Slowly, sensually, you run your tongue along the length of his throbbing dick, savoring the moment before releasing a teasing droplet of saliva that glistens in the soft light. 

You take him into your mouth in one smooth, deliberate motion, the warmth and wetness engulfing his cock entirely. A primal hiss escapes his lips, a symphony of pleasure echoing in the van as you work your magic. 

With determination, you savor the taste of his precum, deciding to be bolder. You inch your way down, taking him deeper until your nose brushes against his coarse pubic hair.

As you breathe through your nose, hollowing your cheeks, the obscene sounds escaping him become a symphony that resonates through your core.

His fingers entwine in your hair, tugging gently, a visceral reminder of the intimate connection between you. 

“Such a good girl,” he murmurs, the praise dripping with desire and approval. The sensation of his touch, both tender and possessive, sends shivers down your spine, creating a delicious tension in the air.

As you pull away, a satisfying pop resonates in the room, accompanied by the symphony of your shared breaths. Gasping for air, you meet his gaze, and a playful chuckle escapes his lips, filling the space like a melody that only the two of you understand.

You plunge eagerly, your tongue tracing a sinuous dance around his length, creating a tantalizing symphony of pleasure. As you hum with a subtle vibration, the sensations reverberate, amplifying the intensity of the moment.

“Shit,” he breathes, his voice a low rasp as you feel his dick twitching in your mouth. 

You pull away once more, savoring the moment, and playfully trace the contours of the head of his dick with your tongue. Without further delay, you take him back into your mouth, the shared pleasure deepening with each devoted stroke.

You sense his hands in your hair, a gentle yet urgent pull, as he tries to guide you upward.

“As much as I love your mouth on my dick, I really want to make love to you.” 

He murmurs, drawing your head towards his, initiating a fervent kiss. The taste of himself on your tongue is a fleeting reminder, you know he doesn’t mind, it only fuels the passion between you.

He presses you gently into the sheets, the heat between you intensifying. With a swift motion, he retrieves the discarded foil from the tangled sheets, tearing it open before expertly rolling the condom onto his cock. 

As he lines up his dick with your eager entrance, a shiver of anticipation courses through both of you. With deliberate slowness, he eases into your folds, a dance of pleasure that draws out the exquisite tension in the air. 

The languid pace of his movements creates a sweet agony, a tantalizing dance that turns seconds into eternity. His unhurried rhythm, though almost maddening, speaks volumes of his desire to etch this time into the very fabric of your memories, turning the passage of time into a canvas for your passion.

Ecstasy courses through your veins as he delves deeper, the exquisite stretch sending a shiver down your spine. A symphony of sensations unfolds, and a breathy moan escapes your lips, a testament to the delicious ache that accompanies the perfect alignment of your bodies. 

With each rhythmic thrust, he unearths your most sensitive places, creating a euphoric melody that resonates with the primal rhythm of desire.

Your voice, laced with a desperate plea, dances in the air as you succumb to the overwhelming pleasure. 

“Fuck, Yoongi,” you moan, the words a fervent hymn to the ecstasy that engulfs you.

His grunt reverberates through the van, primal and intense, echoing the raw desire coursing through both of you. He begins to thrust with a tantalizing combination of slow, deliberate movements and rapid, passionate surges.

Every deliberate movement is a languid dance, a symphony of intimacy orchestrated by his tender touch. The deliberate pace allows you both to savor every sensation, each gentle thrust a declaration of his love and desire.

As he descends to capture your lips, it feels like a plunge into a world where time stands still. The kiss leaves you breathless, suspended in a moment that defies gravity. It’s not just a meeting of lips; it’s a celestial dance, leaving you weightless, floating in the ethereal connection between you and him.

Your thoughts dissolve into an exquisite haze, the only clarity emerging from the waves of pleasure he orchestrates. It’s as if the symphony of sensations has drowned out everything else, leaving only the echoes of ecstasy reverberating through your mind.

The knot in your stomach, a manifestation of building pleasure, tightens with every deliberate and passionate movement. Your hands instinctively seek solace on his biceps, anchoring you to the reality of the intimate dance unfolding between your entwined bodies.

As he bends down, his warm breath tickles your earlobe, and in a husky whisper, he confesses, “I’m close, babe.” 

The words, laden with raw desire, send a delicious shiver down your spine.

In the heated passion of the moment, his kisses are fervent and demanding. As his hands explore your body, a surge of desire courses through you when he skillfully pinches both your nipples with his calloused fingers. The sensation makes you arch your back, an involuntary response to the electrifying pleasure that his touch ignites.

In the throes of ecstasy, you can’t help but vocalize the overwhelming pleasure. Your breathless confession, “I’m close too. It’s so good, Yoongi,” escapes in a sultry melody, a raw expression of the intense pleasure coursing through your veins.

With a skilled move, he shifts his hand from your breasts, seamlessly guiding one of your legs over his shoulder. The new angle intensifies every sensation, his every thrust reaching new depths, causing you to release a symphony of moans that echo the escalating pleasure pulsating between you.

“You feel so good around me,” he murmurs, the praise mingling with his ragged breaths. As he maintains the unhurried rhythm, his skilled hand works wonders on your breast.

An electrifying surge courses through you, an unstoppable wave of pleasure crashing into every nerve, leaving you breathless and temporarily adrift in orgasm. As the echoes of ecstasy reverberate through your body, you find yourself in a cocoon of bliss, tethered only by the warmth of Yoongi’s presence above you.

“Fuck!”

Ecstasy courses through him, a guttural exclamation escaping his lips as the rhythmic clenching of your warm walls becomes his undoing. He succumbs to the wave of release, finding solace in the intimacy you both share.

As he releases your leg, it descends gracefully to his side, a silent testament to the shared intensity that just unfolded. Your bodies, now entwined and damp with shared desire, settle into a momentary stillness. His head, heavy with the weight of shared pleasure, finds a resting place atop yours.

He seals the moment with a lingering kiss, a sweet echo of the passion you both just shared. Gently withdrawing from your pussy, he eases himself down beside you, and discards the condom to the floor.

You witness the rhythmic dance of his chest, an intricate ballet choreographed by the ebb and flow of his breaths. Each rise and fall seems like a silent symphony, a testament to the shared intimacy that still lingers in the air. 

You gracefully position yourself on his lap, catching him off guard with the sudden move. The subtle sway of your breasts becomes a tantalizing dance, drawing his gaze irresistibly. A mischievous smile plays on your lips, a silent promise of the passion that’s about to unfold.

As you bask in the afterglow, a surge of emotions overwhelms you, and you can’t hold back the confession bubbling within. “I love you so much. No matter what. I’ve loved you for so many years,” you whisper, laying bare the depths of your heart. 

His eyes mirror your affection, and a serene “Me too,” escapes his lips, carrying the weight of years and years of longing. With a tender smile, you lean into him to seal the moment with a soft, lingering kiss, sealing your love in the quiet intimacy of the shared space between you two.

Hoseok’s frustration spills out as he declares, “I told you it was a bad idea to take Joonie there; he breaks everything!” 

The edge in his voice carries a hint of irritation, directed at Seokjin. As they make their way back to the van, the tension in the air is palpable.

Namjoon, wearied by the perpetual reminders of his purported clumsiness, rolls his eyes. It’s evident that the narrative of him breaking everything has grown stale, and his expression reflects a mix of resignation and mild exasperation. 

His steps come to an abrupt halt as the mesmerizing sight unfolds before him. The camp comes into view, revealing a sight that seizes his attention – you, cradled in Yoongi’s arms covered in blankets, perched on a stool by the flickering warmth of the campfire. 

The scene, painted with the hues of the dancing flames, captures a moment of intimate togetherness that momentarily holds him captive.

He playfully smacks Hoseok’s chest, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Look at that,” he chuckles, his finger extending to showcase the van standing proudly in the distance.

Seokjin’s eyes soften with warmth as he gazes upon your tranquil figures. “Aw,” he gushes, captivated by the peaceful scene before him.

As you gradually awaken in the cocoon of Yoongi’s warmth, your eyes flutter open to find the circle of your friends seated on stools beside you. Their eyes meet yours, each reflecting a unique blend of affection, camaraderie, and unspoken stories.

Yoongi grunts a sleepy “hi,” his voice carrying the weight of the peaceful slumber you both shared. 

Hoseok’s laughter rings out, breaking the serene night air. “Hi, sleepyheads,” he chuckles, searching for a beer in the dimly lit surroundings.

Namjoon’s voice breaks the quiet night, daring to remark, “You look tired and glowing.” 

You release a soft breath, snuggling deeper into Yoongi’s pectorals, fingers intertwining with his.

Seokjin begins to utter, “Did you finally f–” but you abruptly cut him off, declaring, “If you finish that sentence, I’m gonna skin you alive and wear your dick like a party hat.” 

Your words hit like venom, leaving Seokjin, Namjoon, and Hoseok gasping, their eyes widened as if about to fall out of their sockets.

Yoongi’s chuckles resonate underneath you, the melodic sound wrapping around you like a warm embrace, a symphony you wish would play on a loop for eternity.

Author’s note(2): Thank you so much for reading! 🌸 I appreciate every like, comment and reblog, and please don’t be afraid to let me know what you think; your kind words makes me extremely happy 💜

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#yoongi x reader #bts smut #bts fanfic #bts x reader #yoongi smut #myg x reader #myg smut #yoongi fanfic #friendcation series #reader: female #au: road trip #au: camping #au: friends to lovers #au: mechanic #au: travel #theme: summer #vibe: smutty #vibe: comedy #vibe: fluffy #vibe: angst