#this chapter took everything out of me but it's here and i hope to god it doesn't take this long for the next chap

[waywardxwords]

Chapter 9 - Stay (Taking Chances)

Summary: After a random encounter introduces you to Dean Winchester, you can't shake the magnetic pull you feel towards him. For years, you've felt like everything in your life is under control--a promising career, financial stability and no real responsibilities. Dean's a hunter; it's his life and job. But somehow when you meet, your worlds are flipped upside down and you have to decide if it's a chance worth taking.

Chapter Warnings: Slight language

Pairing: Dean Winchester x female!reader

Word Count: ~3.4

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One blink, then two. The hum of the engine and vibration in the seat of the car reminded you where you were. There were so many emotions that coursed through you as you remembered: demons, monsters, Dean. 

Your nose twitched as you smelled the air and your eyes were drawn over to Dean. The sun was out now–high in the sky.

“Dean?” You cleared your throat as you shifted in the passenger seat to sit up fully. He did a double take before he smiled.

“Morning, sunshine,” the gruffness to his words and the look on his face made your stomach flip–or was that hunger? You settled on a mixture of both. 

“What time is it? Where are we?” You asked as you blinked a few more times to try to take in your surroundings. 

“It’s about 8:30,” Dean answered as he glanced at the clock. “And we’re about an hour outside of Louisville, Kentucky.” 

“Jesus, I slept for eight hours, Dean! You should’ve woken me up,” you rubbed the sleep from your eyes and felt around your hair inconspicuously. You didn’t want to give away that you were slightly concerned with what you looked like after passing out in the passenger seat. God, what if you drooled?! You swiped your fingers across your mouth quickly. 

“Nah, you needed the sleep,” he answered simply. “You had a rough few days there.”

“Thanks,” you breathed. Suddenly your stomach groaned and you hoped he couldn’t hear it. “I’m starving. How about we stop and switch off again?” 

“Sounds good to me,” he answered as he eyed the next exit. 

“Let’s do fast food,” you said as he took the exit. “We can do a bathroom break and get it to go so we can get back on the road.” 

It was a quick stop; you both used the bathroom and ordered breakfast sandwiches and hashbrowns to go and got back into the car to hit the road. You were thankful you felt fully rested. 

“You should really try to get some rest,” the dark circles under Dean’s eyes, paired with how his eyelids looked super heavy, gave away that he was exhausted. 

“You sure you’re good?” He gave you a side glance. You smiled and tapped the navigation system between you. 

“I’ve got the map right here. I’m good,” you encouraged. He nodded once before he leaned back and closed his eyes. 

The music played softly around you as you drove. You had tested it briefly about an hour after you had stopped, certain Dean had found a deep sleep by the sound of his soft snores. 

You had to stop about four hours in for a quick bathroom break, but Dean hadn’t stirred. According to Google maps, you had just about two hours left now until you’d reach Lebanon. 

“If you want it to be good girl, get yourself a bad boy,” you sang softly to the music that came through your speakers. 

“What are you listenin’ to?” Dean’s voice was deep and gruff, still laced with remnants of sleep. 

You felt like you jumped out of your skin and clutched at your chest as you sucked in a gasp of air. 

“Jesus,” you muttered as you looked between him and the road. “Don’t do that!”

Dean chuckled as he pulled his hand over his face to wipe off the sleep. “Do what?” His lip picked upwards in a smirk. 

“Scare me like that, you about gave me a heart attack,” you breathed as you tried to calm your heart as it thudded against your sternum.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” he grinned as he adjusted his position on his seat. “But seriously, what is this noise?”

“The Backstreet Boys,” a smirk tugged at your lips as you drove. Dean wiped the sleep from his eyes and you stole a glance. “I told you I’d get you listening to some boy band classics.” You remembered back to when you first saw Dean again and you had walked around town, talking about all of your favorite things. 

Dean audibly groaned. “How is this on your list of favorites?”

“Oh, this song did things to me back in the day,�� you laughed softly. 

“What kinda things?” Dean almost wiggled his eyebrows as he watched you. You just smirked and nibbled on your bottom lip with a shrug. “Uh uh,” he muttered, and without another thought he reached over and pulled your lip free with his thumb. “Keep that lip outta your teeth. It’s dangerous.”

Laughter bubbled in you once more. While you fully trusted Dean, there really hadn’t been any conversation about what this was between you now. Not after everything that had happened. It felt safer to change the topic. 

“Only a few hours out now,” you glanced down at the navigation system. “I can stop for a bathroom break. Do you feel rested?” 

Dean nodded. “Oh yeah, that’s the best sleep I’ve gotten in a while,” he said as he glanced at the map on the screen. “I should probably explain where Sam and I live to you before we get there.” He pulled at the back of his neck uncomfortably as you flipped on your turn signal to exit at the rest stop that was approaching. 

You cleared your throat as you prepared to tell him what your brain had mulled over while he slept. “About that,” you said slowly at first. “I don’t want to invade your space, Dean. I was thinking it might be best if I stay in a hotel close by. At least until we figure out what’s going on.” You left out the words between us and avoided eye contact. The distraction of keeping your eyes on the road was a good enough reason to not meet his gaze. 

He was silent, maybe he wanted to try to find the right words, so you filled the gap with your reasoning. 

“I just don’t want to invade your space—for you and for Sam. I’d still be close by, in case of emergencies or anything,” you explained and stole a glance as you pulled into a parking spot at the rest stop. You could no longer blame keeping your eyes on the road for not looking at him, and you were also curious as to how he felt or what he was thinking. 

“You’re not invading our space,” he tried to assure you. “But, I understand if you’d be more comfortable in a hotel.” The words seemed painful as he said them, but he didn’t push back, and you appreciated that. 

“Just for a few days, maybe,” you sighed. “This is all just a lot.”

Dean nodded. “I get that,” he agreed. “A few days.” He smiled to show you it was okay. 

The rest of the drive had gone well, it was easy. Dean found a hotel that wasn’t far from where he lived, and Sam had met you both there with the Impala. 

“Hey, Sam,” you smiled at the younger Winchester as Dean moved his bags from your trunk to the Impala’s back seat, and then hauled your bags out to carry into the hotel. 

“Hey,” he smiled, though you felt as though something might be off. “How was the drive?”

“Not terrible,” you took a glance at Dean as he closed your trunk. Sam cleared his throat. 

“Listen, I just want you to know, you staying with us isn’t imposing on me at all,” Sam’s words sounded like Dean had filled him in via text at the rest stop earlier. “You’re welcome to stay with us.” He lowered his gaze to make sure you could see his eyes. You knew he was being genuine. 

“I appreciate it,” you said truthfully. “I just feel like I need a few days to catch my breath and then I can reevaluate.” 

Sam nodded, as he seemed to understand. 

“Let’s get you checked in,” Dean placed his hand on your lower back just above your jeans. The feeling of his hand sent a wave of warmth even through the sweater you had on, and you relished in the feeling as he led you to the lobby of the hotel. 

Both Sam and Dean seemed on alert as you checked in with the lady at the front desk. She didn’t seem phased as she handed you a key card and told you breakfast was between 6 and 9. You smiled and thanked her as you made your way to the elevators. 

There was silence as the elevator climbed to the third floor. You scanned your key against the lock on the door, but Dean’s arm went out in front of you and he grasped the metal handle. 

“Give us a sec,” his voice was low as he pushed into the room with Sam behind him. You caught the door with your foot and watched as they checked the room. It was just a bedroom and bathroom, so there wasn’t much to search. The rattle of the shower curtain echoed against the bathroom’s tiled walls. Once they felt comfortable, Dean nodded for you to come in. 

You noticed then that Sam had brought a backpack up with him from the Impala. He set it down on one of the beds and unzipped it. 

“So here’s the deal,” Dean said somewhat firmly. “You can’t leave this room under any circumstances unless Sam or I are with you. Don’t open the door for anyone.” Sam had taken a large container of what looked like salt and started putting it in front of the windows. “When we leave, I need you to take that salt and put it in front of the door, alright?”

“Do I want to know why?” You practically gulped as you watched Sam work. 

“Probably not,” Dean answered softly. “I need you to wear this.” You noticed he had a dainty silver chain in his hand with a charm on it. Your fingers reached for the jewelry and you swallowed when your skin grazed his. Upon further examination, you realized this charm was a carbon copy of Dean’s tattoo on his chest. 

“What is this?” You asked as you looked over the design. 

“It’s an anti-possession charm,” he explained carefully. “If you have this on, demons—like Meg—can’t possess you. Like what happened to your friend, Jen.” He swirled his finger to have you turn around, and you did. Even though all of this sounded absolutely insane to you, all you had to do was pull the images of Jen/Meg from your memory to remind yourself it was all very real. 

You gathered your hair over your shoulder and held it there as Dean adjusted the chain around your neck and his fingers worked to clasp it behind you. Every time his fingers flitted over your skin, you felt somersaults in your stomach. 

The sound of an aerosol can being sprayed jostled you back to reality as you spun around to see Sam with a can of spray paint. 

“What are you doing?” You asked as he finished a design underneath a rug in front of the doorway. 

“It’s a Devil’s trap,” Dean explained. “We’ll put one in front of the window, too. If a demon gets in, they can’t get out of that and they can’t hurt you.” 

That felt slightly reassuring, but you were still on edge. “I’m not getting my security deposit back, am I?” There was a nervous chuckle to your question. 

“Sorry,” Sam managed a small, sympathetic smile as he finished his art work and let it dry for a moment before he tossed the rug back over. He went back to the window to create it again. 

You were distracted by the sound of Dean emptying the remaining contents from the backpack onto the bed. There was, what looked like, an iron rod, a jug of water, more salt, a flask and then a serious knife—it reminded you of a hunting knife or something. The knife alone made you gulp, but everything combined had your head spinning. 

“What’s all this?” The words came out as a whisper. Dean placed his hand on that familiar spot on your lower back once more and led you to the edge of the bed. This time was a lot different than when you were in that bed and breakfast just a few days prior. 

“This,” he picked up the jug. “Is salt water. The flask is holy water,” he explained. “That’s an iron rod, extra salt for the doors and windows, and a silver knife. These are all the weapons I could think of for the monsters we hunt.”

“How will I know what to use?” You asked as your eyes moved over all of the things placed before you. Silently, you wondered if maybe you should have stayed with Dean and Sam, after all.

“Honestly, there’s so much to explain,” Dean started as he let out a breath. “Your best bet is to start slingin’ salt water and holy water,” he motioned to the jug and flask. “I don’t think you’ll see a spirit, because that’s more complicated—so you probably won’t need the iron. Werewolf or someone who looks like me, but isn’t me,” he picked up the knife. “Silver blade.” He paused for a second. “Shit, I didn’t think about the vampires…” his words were quieter as he processed. 

“I’m sorry, werewolves? Vampires? And what do you mean, someone who looks like you but isn’t you?” Your thoughts were swimming around in your brain. But it wasn’t a leisurely swim, it was like there had been a damn tsunami and waves were flooding and crashing every second. 

Dean somehow just knew. Maybe it was the way the words were flowing haphazardly from your lips, or the way your fingers had started to tremble. But he knew. 

He reached down and tugged on your wrist so you faced him. “Take a breath, sweetheart,” he said softly. Sam had stilled his movements after he readjusted the rug by the window. “Sammy, can you give us a minute?” 

Sam nodded. “Sure thing,” he gave you a small smile as he left the room and closed the door behind him. 

Dean’s hand came up to catch your cheek in his palm. It was impossible not to be pulled into the warmth of his grasp. You closed your eyes at the feeling. 

“I know this is a lot,” he kept his voice low. “I don’t want to overwhelm you, but I want to keep you safe.” His words hit at a spot in your heart that caused a flutter across your chest. 

“You don’t have to save me, Dean,” you reached up and held his hand on your face in place. 

“Oh, I’ll do whatever I can to keep you safe,” he said matter-of-factly. “That’s not even a question in this scenario. I’m just sorry I got you pulled into this shitstorm of my life.” His words felt sad to you, and you didn’t think he meant for them to be. His hand fell from your cheek back to his side. 

“Dean, I really, really like you,” you made sure you held his gaze as the words flowed. He needed to see the sincerity behind him—to know you were speaking the truth. 

“People I care about get hurt,” he said simply, but little worry lines had appeared by his eyes and between his eyebrows. His eyes matched the sadness of his voice. “Once we figure out what’s going on and I can make sure you’re safe,” he started carefully, as if he didn’t want to say the words but more so needed to. “I want to get you back to Virginia. Back to a normal life.” 

The words struck as if you had been slapped and your eyes widened. That wasn’t something you had expected him to say. “I don’t know, I feel like that’s for me to decide. It’s my safety you’re worried about, right?”

“Just yesterday, you were determined I was a psycho serial killer who faked my death and was on the run,” he quipped with a sad smile. 

While he wasn’t wrong, you still weren’t sold on his reasoning. “Can we just say we’ll take this one day at a time? Go from there?” You asked him gently. 

His eyes moved between yours and he managed a single nod. “Okay. One day at a time.” 

“Thank you,” you breathed. The heaviness of the day fell over you, and it seemed as though Dean noticed. 

“I’m going to get going, let you get some rest,” he cleared his throat and took a step back. “I’ll be back first thing in the morning, or sooner, if you need me.” 

You followed him towards the door. 

“Remember, salt line behind the door once I leave. Don’t open it for anyone. I’ll say ‘Atlanta’ when I come back,” he placed his hand on the door handle and turned back once more. 

“Got it,” you nodded as you listened to his instructions. “And Dean?” He turned back towards you again for you to continue. “Thank you for bringing me here. For keeping me safe.” 

Dean nodded once with a small smile. There was a hesitation there, but you could almost make out when his heart changed his mind, and you could have sworn you heard a fuck it. He leaned back towards you and pressed his lips to yours with his hand on your cheek once more. 

Heat radiated beneath your skin, and you weren’t sure if it was from the traces of his fingertips there or the rush of his lips on yours—probably a mixture of both. 

“Goodnight, Atlanta,” he murmured against your lips as he pulled away. 

“Goodnight, Dean,” you couldn’t help the smirk that tugged at your lips as he opened the door and closed it carefully behind him. 

Dean climbed into the driver’s side of the Impala and closed the door behind him. Sam did the same in the passenger seat. 

“She doing okay?” Sam asked. 

“As good as can be expected,” Dean sighed and pulled his hand over his face. Sam was silent for a few seconds, but Dean knew he had plenty of thoughts floating around in his brain. “Go ahead and say it.” He said firmly. 

“Say what, Dean? Everything I have to say, you already know,” Sam sighed. Dean didn’t respond, and instead put the Impala into reverse and backed out of the spot. “I just feel like it’s not the right time to get this sucked in.” There it is, Dean thought to himself. 

“Don’t you think I know that?” He bit back but refused to meet his brother’s gaze. 

“We know what we need to do for the second trial now,” Sam said carefully. Dean’s jaw flinched. 

“Kevin figured it out?” He glanced between Sam and the road. Sam just nodded. 

“We both know it’s going to get a hell of a lot worse before it gets better,” Sam glanced out the window and then back at Dean. 

Dean nodded, his jaw set in a firm line. “I just need to keep her close by. At least until this shit is over. If Meg has made an appearance, we know more will be coming.” 

“I thought we were keeping her close in the bunker. How are you going to keep her safe when we’ve got a fifteen minute drive between us? The bunker’s the safest place for her,” Sam wasn’t wrong. 

“I know, but she’s scared. I was having a hard enough time trying to explain the bunker to her,” Dean sighed. “I’m dropping you off and going back to the hotel. I’ll sleep in the Impala in the parking lot.”

“Does she know that?” Sam smirked from his spot in the passenger seat, though he could’ve assumed the answer. 

“No, and we’re keeping it that way,” Dean said firmly. “It's the only way I know I can keep her safe.”

A/N: Sorry for the delay on this one! We decided to extend our vacation by a few days, and I hate posting updates from my phone, so thanks for your patience!

Things will certainly start to pick up with this story now (after some consideration, I also think this might go beyond 13 chapters--TBD). I ended up getting some ideas as I re-watched bits and pieces of seasons 8 and 9, so we shall see what happens!

I hope you're loving it so far! Thanks for all of the likes, comments and reblogs. I appreciate you all!

Chapter 10 will be posted on Thursday, 5/2!

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[wittlesissyb4by]

Chapter 2

Chapter 1 Here

“I’m afraid we’re going to have to let you go.” Mr. Pennyworth says. 

It feels like a dagger has been shoved into my stomach. I’m not sure what to say, so he just continues anyway. 

“Your productivity is by far the lowest in the company, you’re not reliable to show up on time or even at all, and your long hair is unprofessional and not befitting of this company’s standards.” He clears his throat, sifting through some papers. “We also have reason to believe you called-in on Friday without actually being sick.”

“What makes you think that?” I say, finally speaking up for the first time. 

He shrugs, “Let’s just say we got an anonymous tip.”

******

“Everything alright with you?” Max asks, moving his pawn forward to free up his bishop. 

“I’m fine,” I say, half-heartedly moving my knight with no clear plan in place. “Lost my job today.”

Max frowns, moving his bishop out as I expected. “I’m really sorry, dude. That sucks to hear.”

“Yea…it’s fine, I guess,” I sigh, “Didn’t much like it there much anyway.” 

He still hasn’t said anything about the other day. I’m not sure if he actually saw anything, or he did and just doesn’t want to bring it up. How do you talk about seeing a bunch of sissy toys and diapers in your roommate’s room? Is that even something to talk about?

I remember back in college when my roommate at the time had found a slew of sissy porn on my computer. I was there when he saw everything. That sick feeling in my stomach took forever to go away. It’s back now. 

“Well if you start applying for jobs, you can always use me as a reference. Just say I’m an old manager or something.” He says, putting his Queen in a precarious position. I seize the opportunity and take it. I realize too late that it left my King open for an easy assault. An obvious trap I should have seen coming. 

“Checkmate.” Max says, smiling. 

******

As the weeks went by, so did the job opportunities and applications. I rarely received any callbacks, and even if I got an interview, I’d either get ghosted afterwards or they would call and say something to the degree of “after careful consideration, we’ve decided to go with another candidate.”

God, the job market is rough. 

My bank account is dangerously low. I probably should have done a better job of saving for times like this, but I guess I was more excited about buying outfits and diapers. Still, I’m not going to make it through the next month without some sort of income. It’s time to have the awkward conversation with Max. 

“Hey, man. Can I talk to you for a sec?” I say, shuffling my feet into the living room. 

He pauses the hockey game and turns to me, “what’s up?”

It’s such a weird topic to bring up, but I have to bite the proverbial bullet. “I’m having trouble finding a job…” I say sheepishly, “I didn’t work long enough at my last one to get severance, so…I’m a little low on funds.”

He just sits there, always with that stoic expression, listening intently. He doesn’t say anything, just lets me continue. 

“So…umm..I’m uh, gonna be short on rent this month.”

Again he continues to stare at me, as if deep in thought, stroking his beard. It almost seems a little exaggerated. Like he’s acting. 

“I see,” he finally says. “So you need me to help you?”

As demoralizing as it is to admit, I have to. “Yes…”

He smiles. “Okay. No problem.”

“Really?”

“Yea.��

I don’t know what to say. A weight of anxiety and fear is lifted off my shoulders. I can feel it melt away as I start to relax. “Thanks man, I really do appreciate it. I’ll find a way to make it up to you, I promise. Anything you need, just let me know.”

His eyes have a strange glint to them. Like he was hoping I would say exactly that. 

“I actually do have a job in mind for you,” He says, “You can start today.”

I sense a sudden shift in the air around the room. He leans back on the couch a bit, patting the seat next to him. I find myself sitting down beside him, not exactly sure what’s going on, but sensing something amiss. 

Max puts his hand on my leg, “it’s okay, nothing to worry about.” he says softly. I feel myself release a breath, feeling comforted, but still a little uneasy. 

It’s like he’s holding something back. Like he’s trying to find the words but doesn’t know how to say it. I wonder if he knows. If he saw the things in my room.

“I saw the things in your room.” He says. 

Yea, I’d say he knows…

My stomach does that familiar churning. The shame of what I've done, or been caught doing coursing through me. “I-i can explain…”

“Don’t bother.” He says, waving it away. “I’ve always had my suspicions.”

I didn’t know what to say to that. I’ve always tried to be so reserved and secretive with my true desires. I didn’t think anyone else would notice. 

He shifts on the couch again. When he does, something catches my eye, there’s a very large bulge in his shorts. 

Noticing me looking at the log snaking down his leg, he starts running his hand over it and smiling. “Have you ever sucked a cock before?”

I realize my mouth is hanging open. I gulp, shaking my head. “Not a real one.”

He laughs at that, it breaks some of the tension, then he shrugs. “Well, there’s a first time for everything…” he gently pulls at his zipper, snaking it down ever so slowly. But he doesn’t pull it out, just leaves it open, letting my imagination run wild. “Do you want to suck it?” He asks. 

Again I find myself dumbfounded, this is all happening so fast, but before I can think about it I find the word escaping my lips. 

“Yes.”

He chuckles. “Good, because you were going to have to do it anyway. This place ain’t cheap.”

After our awkward laughter dies down, I’m left in the precarious position of what to do next. Luckily, he guides me after several seconds of silence. 

“Open my pants.”

I reach a shaky hand to his button, it takes me a bit to get my fumbling fingers to work it free. 

Again, I’m lost as to what to do next. Should we kiss? Do I close my eyes? What do I—

“Take it out.”

His direction helps. It’s easier for me to follow orders than it is to take initiative in such uncharted territory. I reach my hand into the waistband of his boxers, feeling around for it, my heart beating out of my chest. It doesn’t take me long at all to find the warm, fleshy member. I gently pull it back, it bends a bit before snapping out of the boxers to stare straight up at me. 

It’s big. Very big. I can barely wrap my fingers around it. The veins are popping out the side, and I can even feel his own heart beating through it. Pulsing. Rapidly. He’s just as nervous as I am but he doesn’t show it. 

“Well...it’s not gonna suck itself…”

I realize I’ve been staring at it for a while. I use my other hand to wipe the drool from my mouth. Maybe I shouldn’t have. Somehow my throat feels both dry and wet at the same time, it doesn’t even make sense. Finally, I push past the nervous excitement, and lean forward. His cock seems to grow as it gets closer to my face. I’ve imagined this moment over and over for years. I’ve watched countless videos through the lens of girls wearing a GoPro on their head taking big, giant dicks into their mouths. But somehow this is different. I’m the girl now. It’s my POV, and it’s what I've always dreamed of. 

I open my mouth when I’m inches away and close my eyes, imagining I'm one of the girls in those videos. 

The head of his dick already feels different than my dildos. It’s squishier, warmer, and tastes just a little bit salty, but in a good way. In a great way. This is what I've always wanted, and I’ve finally gotten it. 

I hear a soft moan escape my lips just before they close around his cock. It sounds pathetic, but I don’t care. Things finally feel…right. Like this is what was supposed to be in my mouth all along. All those things they told me in sissy porn were true. 

I take him deeper in my mouth. I find it easier to slide it  down my throat than my dildo. I take it as far as I can until my eyes water, then go back up for a breath. 

In the overwhelming rush of stimuli, I forgot all the techniques I’ve practiced for so long. I try to remember: swirl your tongue, suction on the way up, not down, and most importantly: keep it nice and wet. 

I let the drool run from my mouth, using my hand to coat his cock with it, taking a breath before diving back down. 

“Someone’s been practicing.” He breathes. 

I melt at his praise. I always wanted to be a cocksucker, and I always hoped I’d be a good cocksucker. But you never really know, my dildo doesn’t make noises. 

But him? He was breathing heavily, moaning, groaning, and doing all the things that told me I was doing something right. It ignited a fire in me. With every grunt he made I found myself getting more and more enthusiastic so as to make it happen again. 

Leaning over across the couch next to him is a bit awkward, though. 

He notices. “Get on your knees.”

I take him out of my mouth and scramble a little too eagerly onto the floor between his legs. 

He looks down at me, almost victoriously, like his plan has come to fruition. I am in no way perturbed. In fact, my cock is screaming inside my pants. I don’t think I've ever been this hard in my life. 

“Looks like you’re enjoying yourself.” He says, apparently noticing my penis poking prominently through my pants. “You can touch it.” 

Is that his decision? I guess so…because as soon as he says it I find my hand going inside my pants. 

“No no.” He says. “On the outside. Rub it like you’re a girl. A sissy girl.”

Just the sound of that word gives me a wave of pleasure. I’m so hot and bothered that my body is quaking. I love the way he’s dominating me. Taking my power away so I don’t have to make the decisions myself, and therefore making me more relaxed about doing something I may otherwise have chickened-out on. Would I be here, on my knees, about to suck his cock if he hadn’t made me? Is he making me? Or am I doing it on my own volition?

I knead the front of my crotch. Feeling my throbbing cock and nestling my aching balls. I feel a bit weird with him watching me, so I turn my attention back to his cock. Well, more specifically, his balls. I’ve learned that when worshipping a man—as I’m doing right now—maintaining eye contact while lapping at his balls is one of the perfect ways to show your submission. I also know (from being on the receiving end) that having your balls sucked does not feel nearly as good as porn makes it seem, it’s actually kind of painful. 

So after licking his sack and stroking for several seconds, I spit on his dick and take it back into my mouth with renewed vigor. My own balls are aching at this point, I can feel them turning blue. I use two fingers and twirl them in circles over my pants while I bob up and down on Max’s dick. 

“Fuck yea…” he moans. God it feels so good to make him make those noises. “I’m gonna cum.” 

So am I. 

Knowing he’s on the verge gets me insatiably hot. I want nothing more than to get him to bust in my mouth, like some sort of primal need. 

I hear myself moaning again. I’m not sure if it’s from the pleasure I'm giving or receiving. 

“You want it in your mouth?” He asks considerately. 

“Mhmm!!” I swoon hungrily around his dick. My hand gyrates over my own. The thought of making a man cum in my mouth is too much to handle. I feel a warmth fill my pants as I shake and convulse, trying to keep my focus on his dick while I spasm in an intense orgasm. 

I feel the desire begin to fade. The reality of what I'm doing seeping in. This is my roommate, and I’m on my knees in our living room slobbering all over his big dick like a girl he just met on Tinder. 

“Ohh yea…” he twitches. I can feel the head of his penis swelling, even more than it was before. It gets me excited again. Eager. Desperate. “Right there, just like that! I’m almost there…”

I’ve never been on the receiving end of that statement. Guys saying they’re almost there but are actually a few minutes out. 

My cheeks are starting to burn, my throat is getting sore, it burns from the bile of gagging, I need air, to take a break and a breath, but I don’t want to lose my progress. I need to power through and do what I need to do. 

He grips the cushion of the couch. His legs flail and tense. The head of his cock is bigger than ever. His breathing becomes labored, syncopated, and then it stops. 

That’s when I felt the first gush hit my tongue. Even though I was expecting it, I wasn’t exactly ready for it. Another pump, and then another. I worry I won’t be able to hold it all. 

He gives a big exhale, and that’s when I know he’s spent. I hold his dick and his cum in my mouth a bit, not exactly sure what to do next. I suck a bit more to pull out any remaining drops, then take him out of my mouth. 

The jizz is warmer than I expected it to be, saltier too, but it doesn’t taste bad. It’s my reward. A token of my accomplishment. I just sucked my first real dick, and it was everything I hoped it would be. 

I gulp down the load, smiling gratefully like any good little slut would. 

“Good job.” He says, patting me on the head like I’m a well-behaved puppy. “Now run along…”

That’s it. He doesn’t say anything else. Just pulls up his pants, zips them back up, grabs the remote, and resumes the Hockey game. 

A little disheveled, I wipe the slobber from my mouth, get up, and head out of the room like a discarded toy. What did I expect to happen? For us to cuddle and whisper sweet nothings into each other’s ear? I don’t even think I would want that. But to be thrown away like that makes me feel…used. 

Then I remember the wet, sticky stain in my pants. A reminder that I enjoyed myself, a lot. 

So I guess it’s no surprise that when I got back to my room, I shut the door, locked it, and started enjoying myself two more times…

To Be Continued

#roomies

[dangermousie]

Found the novel Tender Light is based on and am reading the last chapter.

She had lost hope in that town and that century, but because she loved him, she found true warmth and humanity for herself.

And the ending! The ending is behind read more because so spoilery. But god, neither of them trapped in that fucking town by the end is GLORIOUS in and of itself!

Zhou Luo closed the door and looked at her across the huge office. The turbulent emotions suddenly subsided, and his heart calmed down in an instant, as if he had finally arrived at the harbor after wandering for many years.

Nanya heard the sound of the door closing and said, "Put the things on the table. Who is coming to see me?"

Zhou Luo said nothing, smiled and stared at her.

Nanya finally looked back, her eyes widened for a moment, looking frightened, just like what she saw when he lay on the counter and woke up from the dream of white butterflies. Her hands were still hanging on the cheongsam.

Just like before, she slowly retracted her hand and gently curved her lips: "Are you here?"

The eyes are glued together, showing longing, regret, forgiveness, and attachment.

Zhou Luo stepped forward and walked towards her step by step. She stood there waiting for him.

She waited for him to come to her, but she did not refuse his arrival or push away his dusty figure. She looked up at him, slightly tearful, and smiled at him.

So grateful and so loved.

Zhou Luo also had tears in his eyes, but also smiled and said, "Xiaoya, you see, when I grow up, I still haven't forgotten you."

Eight years passed by and he finally caught up with her.

"Xiaoya, look, I've grown up and still love you. - How wonderful. You are still so young, but I am old. It's wonderful." He lowered his head, tapped her forehead with a single He held her cheek with his hand and asked softly, "Do you agree?"

Nanya was still trembling slightly and couldn't say anything else. Finally she spoke and asked: "Zhou Luo, would you like some tea?"

Just like before.

"Okay." He smiled with tears in his eyes.

She turned around and pulled him to the wooden table. Zhou Luo sat down and saw a faded colored paper pinwheel stuck in a small porcelain vase at the corner of the table.

Nanya boiled water.

Zhou Luo said: "It's been a long time since I read a poem to you. Let's read one today."

Nanya said: "Whose?"

Zhou Luo said: "Haizi."

And she laughed.

When the water boiled, Nanya set up the clay pot and porcelain cups, washed the tea, boiled the tea, and brewed the tea, slowly coming in like flowing clouds and flowing water.

She was making tea and he was reading poetry:

"Be a happy man from tomorrow on/ Feed the horses, chop wood, and travel around the world/ From tomorrow on, care about food and vegetables/ I have a house facing the sea and the flowers are blooming in spring/ From tomorrow onwards, communicate with every relative/ Tell them my happiness/ That happy lightning told me/ I will tell everyone/ Give every river and every mountain a warm name/ Stranger, I also bless you/ May you have a bright future/ May your lover eventually get married/ May you be happy in this world/ I just want to face the sea and see the flowers blooming in spring."

After he finished reading, he handed her the letterhead in his hand. She took out the key and opened a small drawer. A pile of letterheads filled with poems lay there. She put the piece of letterhead back where it should be.

Everything seems to be back to that year again.

That summer afternoon, there was plenty of sunshine.

You smile at me and say nothing.

It feels like I have been waiting for a whole century for this.

God, even in terrible MTL, this is beyond gorgeous AAAAAAAA!!!!

#cdrama #cnovel #tender light

[cosmicjoke]

Alright, so... Chapter 210 of "Vinland Saga"...

Excuse me a moment while I go cry in a corner.

Shit, man, this chapter got to me hard.

Spoilers ahead, for anyone who hasn't read it.

I'm so scared Thorfinn is going to die. He was shot full of arrows, just like his father. Hild saved him, and my immediate question is, "how?". Did she have to kill to save him? To get him on her back and carry him out? The fact we aren't shown what happened after she shot her arrow makes me think she did. Or did she manage to do it while only wounding the natives? She only had four arrows left, and there were more than four natives in pursuit. If she did have to kill to get him out, then I wonder how that's going to impact Thorfinn himself, assuming he survives. To know Hild will have had to take on that burden, of taking a life to save his, would be devastating to him, I think. In it's own way, it would almost be like a condemnation to him of his pacifist philosophy, that because he didn't want to kill, the burden of it has now fallen to another. I know Thorfinn would blame himself, even though this situation truly wasn't his fault, and spun out of his control due to forces beyond his power.

I really didn't expect this turn of events. I thought Thorfinn and Hild would take care of the pursuers in the forest and then make their way to the village. But Thorfinn clearly has a punctured lung from the arrow he took for Einar, and now he's been shot full of arrows, which, at the moment, I'm honestly having a really hard time seeing how he'll survive. His condition also totally takes him out of the game in terms of defending the village and its people at all.

And now Hild and him are faced with Plmk, and I have no idea if he's hostile or not. If he's hostile, they're fucked, which makes me think he's going to end up helping them, somehow. But even if he does, it doesn't do anything for Thorfinn's condition. Like I said, I'm really scared at this point for him.

And then there was Thorfinn's dream sequence, which was just heartbreaking in the extreme. His vision of Thorkill, basically saying 'I told you so', saying war would come to Vinland, no matter how hard Thorfinn tried to avoid it. And even more devastating, Ivar and then Einar, blaming Thorfinn for everything. We see here in Thorfinn's subconscious his true feelings, rooted in a sense of failure. We see how badly Einar's parting words to him have affected him. Einar's anger and bitterness toward him. I've spoken before about how it would, in many ways, be the ultimate sacrifice to his ideals, if Thorfinn were to lose Einar's friendship, his first and best friend, and the man who gave him a sense of purpose in life beyond his quest for revenge against Askeladd. If Einar truly ends up turning against him, if he refuses to leave, and takes the path of war, I don't see how their friendship can continue. Maybe that will change when he sees Thorfinn's condition, but realistically, I think him seeing what's been done to Thorfinn will only fuel Einar's rage and refusal to give up what they've built.

God, Thorfinn wanted so badly to make a land of peace, to atone for the sins of his past by creating a land of peace and saving more lives than he took, but now it's all gone to hell, and people have been killed. His vision of Einar telling him his experiment has failed, and that it was an important experiment, because it shows how peace can never really be achieved, shows the depths of Thorfinn's despair, I think, and the depths of his self-loathing. This is truly just a tragedy playing out before our eyes.

It's made all the more poignant, I think, by Hild's words to Thorfinn, telling him not to lose heart, telling him he wasn't wrong about anything, and if only the world were full of more people like him, maybe there really could be hope for a world without war. She calls Thorfinn precious, and I think that's true. But tragically, as we're seeing, the world isn't filled with people like Thorfinn, and that makes Thorfinn's dream an impossibility. There's always going to be someone who wants to start a war, there's always going to be someone who wants to take what isn't theirs, there's always going to be someone who wants to hurt you or those you love and care for, no matter how much you try to talk them out of it. The world is too complex and brutal for pacifism to ever be a reality, and that is a tragedy.

I don't know what's going to happen back at the village at this point, either. It seems to me anyone could die. Thorfinn was their best defense, and now he's out of commission.

Ugh, man, this chapter hit me on a deep, emotional level.

Don't die Thorfinn. I'll be devastated if you do.

Also, just again, shout out to Yukimura's art. I don't know how this guy does it month after month. His art is second to none.

#Vinland Saga #chapter 210 #thorfinn karlsefni #hild #einar

[blindmagdalena]

Eat Your Ego, Honey ( Ch 8 )

homelander x oc 18+  escort services, sex work, voyeurism, stalking, Homelander in general. see ao3 link for detailed tags. chapter index. check out the playlist!

chapter summary: After the disastrous spectacle that was Homelander's birthday celebration, America's "disgraced" hero is forced to reconcile with the demons in his head, and what that means for Layla, the woman standing precariously in their path.

additional tags: unhealthy/codependent dynamics, threats of violence, themes of abuse, canon deviation. 🖤

Sleep is a scarcity. Homelander fades in and out of consciousness, but he never truly rests. It’s strange to sleep somewhere he can't see the comfort of his own gaze endlessly mirrored back at him. Those mirrors make the world so much bigger, but for the first time in a long time, he doesn’t mind how small it is. What would normally be a dark, claustrophobic thing is now a great deal safer than the open expanse of a stage.

Layla’s warmth and the faint weight of her arm around him is the only thing that keeps him somewhat tethered. Her heartbeat is a steady metronome against his back, her breaths warmly ghosting over his neck and shoulder. It’s been hours, but it feels too soon when the covers move on his skin as she readjusts in her sleep, pulling her arm from him. He lifts the blanket and rolls to face her. 

She’s turned away from him, her dark hair fanned out in a wild splay on the pillow beneath her. Light from the unsleeping city spills in through the window, illuminating her figure. It’s strange to see her sleeping in day clothes and not the sleepwear he’s used to seeing her in. She didn’t have the time to change tonight. She was too busy taking him back into her arms, into her bed, into her life. He brushes his knuckles down between her shoulder blades, the disheveled silk of her blouse soft beneath his fingers.

He’ll find out why Starlight’s scent is lingering on her when she wakes.

Sliding closer to her, he flattens his palm over her hip and noses at the line of her throat, inhaling deeply, chasing the scent beneath shampoo and lotion until he finds what’s simply her. Her wine flush has followed her into sleep, her skin warmer than usual. She responds to his touch with a sleepy sigh of pleasure. Even now, the sound of her voice does so much to quiet the storm in his heart. He screws his eyes shut and buries his face into the soft tresses of her hair, gritting his teeth against the urge to squeeze too tight. 

The urge to keep. 

The urge to break it all apart and let the storm rage. Instead, he keeps himself perfectly still, trying to swallow the thrumming energy coiling in his tense muscles. End this, the darkness in him hisses, tempting him. How many days has he resisted the urge to reach out, not with his hands but with this thing inside him, and ruin everything? Everyone? A flash of crimson is all it would take to cleave this world in half.

But he can’t afford to. Not then, not now.

The only way he made it out of the cold isolation of the lab, far away from the bad room, was by convincing the staff, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that he was good. He was their perfect man-made hero. Logically, he knows they can’t ever put him back in the bad room. He’d never let them. It doesn’t stop the nightmares.

He folds in on himself, doing his best to forget that he even has power to wield against others—a whim as sharp as glass. Now, just as then, he orders his body and mind to still, to calm.

If Layla had stayed yesterday morning, things would have been different. His tightly controlled grip on her hip flexes minutely. How can she sleep so deeply knowing that she’s ruined him?

What was she doing with Starlight?

The inkling of a deeper betrayal slithers into his mind. He slides his hand up the length of her torso, traversing the familiar scape of her body, and into her hair, coiling his fingers into a gentle fist of it. One twist is all it would take to quiet her soothing voice forever. Would hair ever feel the same to him again, or would it start to smell like burning tears and cornea? The stench of grief hits him so suddenly that his eyes sting with it, and he recoils from Layla like he himself has been burned.

Has she been scheming against him all along, too?

Fucked. He’s so completely and entirely fucked.

He exhales harshly, curling his hand into a tight fist and biting into the meaty curve just below his thumb, muffling a tearful keen. He can’t think back to that morning without reliving how horribly it went wrong, and how the dominos just continued to fall until he was losing his senses in front of the entire world.

Those moments on stage play over and over in his mind, but each instance of them grows more warped than the last. He’s starting to forget what he really said, conflating memories with nightmares. How much of himself did he really let slip? How ugly does the world think him to be now? 

He can see the headlines now.

Homelander: America’s Fallen Hero

Homelander: Vought’s Poster Boy Throws a Tantrum

Homelander: Deranged Freak Snaps On Stage

He’s spiraling worse than he did during Stormfront’s smear campaign against him. It isn’t just dissenting opinions and slander—he’s finally given them real ammunition to use against him. The question is: how much, and how will he refute it? He needs to be able to recover from this.

His voice of reason is treacherously quiet. Nothing but the dreadful echo of I warned you.

With his thoughts twisting in on themselves like a pit of angry, writhing snakes, he finds it impossible to stay still any longer. His whole body is plagued with a restlessness that turns into agony. Carefully, he extracts himself from Layla’s side and slips out of her bed. He needs to see it for himself. He needs to understand the degree of damage that’s been done to him.

Stepping out into her living room, Homelander picks up the remote for her television and flips it on, dropping the volume to such a miniscule level that he’ll be the only one to hear it. He lowers himself down onto the couch and stares, watching his body move and speak, seemingly puppeteered by someone other than himself, operating in ways he’s never seen himself behave in front of a camera before.

“I’m done being persecuted for my strength–”

Erratic.

“Persecuted for my strength–”

Unhinged.

“Persecuted–”

Alive.

If they want to take us down, we’re going to take every last one of them down with us.

The sky is just barely beginning to turn with dawn’s light when Layla wakes to a chill that rolls up her spine. Her bed feels colder than it has any right to, and as the fractured events of last night spill back into her mind, it doesn’t take her long to figure out why. 

Homelander—who knows if he’ll accept that name yet—is nowhere to be seen.

Her temples throb with the aftermath of emptying a hefty bottle of wine as she lifts herself from bed, running her hands through her hair, breaking apart the tangles with her fingers.

The breadcrumb trail of Homelander’s suit leading from her balcony to her bed tells her that he hasn’t left. The image of him streaking through the sky in the nude does occur to her, though. Straightening her borrowed blouse and tucking it back into the waist of her skirt, she steps lightly through the dark of her apartment, head on a swivel, until she spots her quarry.

Reclined on her couch, Homelander paints an image somewhere between a renaissance painting and a billboard for depression, his body illuminated by the flashing light of the television. His expression is morose, his hand sitting on the couch next to him at an angle, the remote tilted in his loose grasp. As she approaches, he begins tapping on the volume until his own recorded voice fills the empty space between them.

It’s his tirade from last night.

“Hey, babe,” he drawls from the couch, voice pitched low and despondent. The way he pops each consonant makes the pet name sound downright derogatory. “So, what’s the verdict?” He asks, lazily gesturing to the television with the remote. “Is it everything you thought it would be?” His gaze slides from the screen to her, his head lolling to the side with it.

Any concern or lingering sleepiness in her face is swiftly replaced with bewilderment. “Excuse me?”

“‘Excuse me?’” He mocks, pitching his voice up condescendingly. Her expression hardens as he stands, the remote bouncing along the couch cushions where he tosses it. “Don’t play dumb with me.”

“I’m not playing anything with you,” she responds tersely. She’s never been a morning person. Compound that with the ache in her skull and the naked pain in the neck standing in front of her, she’s not feeling her usual bounty of patience. Last night, he was a weepy, sopping mess. Now she doesn’t know what to expect from the tight line of his shoulders, or the agitated curl of his upper lip. “I have no idea what it is you think you’re picking at.”

“Since when are you and Starlight pals, then?” He hisses through his teeth.

Shit. Annie. She never sent that text.

“Since yesterday,” she answers, her calm stretched thin. “She saw me at the elevator. She offered a shower and a change of clothes. That’s all.” She doesn’t find it necessary to explain why Starlight might have offered such a thing. He knows exactly how she looked when she left his penthouse, bruised and disheveled.

The memory looks to serve as a crisp slap, some level of clarity filtering into the incensed glaze of his eyes. His grip flexes, and he bares his teeth in an animalistic flash of frustration. He isn’t willing to accept fault for that yet.

“Stop fucking lying to me!” He snaps, the sudden jump in volume startling her. He advances on her sharply, halting her step backwards with an iron grip, his palm against her throat, his thumb and index finger notching perfectly behind the curve of her jaw below her ears. The contact is minimal, and yet the strength in those two fingers alone is more than enough to hold her firmly in place. 

“You’re all the fucking same! Agendas, lies, all of you trying to control me, use me, and you—you’re exactly the fucking same. You’ve taken everything from me,” he snarls. Despite his fervor, his grip remains remarkably controlled. Sometimes it’s as if his mind and his body are two independent entities: one an unstable, emotionally malnourished psyche, and the other a finely tuned weapon.

The human mind wants dangerous things to be ugly, but even now, Homelander’s twisted, angry expression is not an ugly thing. Though adrenaline surges the thrum of her heart, it isn’t laden with the fear any reasonable person would have. The thrill coursing through her isn’t rooted in some comfort that he won’t hurt her. It’s the knowledge that he—more devastating than any man she’s ever known—absolutely will if not handled correctly.

It’s like holding a thundering storm in her bare hands.

Layla stares wide-eyed and astonished, so thoroughly unaware of what he’s accusing her of that she struggles to speak around the hard lump in her throat. He leans closer yet, clutching her with all the same strength, tenderness and menace of the ocean cradling a ship.

“I killed her,” he whispers, the words passing between them like a confession to God himself. He’s so near, she could rest her forehead against his if she wanted. “I killed her for lying to me. I’ll kill you, too.”

Madelyn Stillwell. The name returns to her like a ghost, the hairs at the back of her neck prickling. Or was it Stormfront? The unnamed mother of his child? One was the victim of a domestic terrorist, one committed suicide, and the third is yet undetermined. All of them are apparent casualties of Homelander’s turbulent presence in their lives. Is she to be the fourth in a string of tragedies? Rage swells so suddenly in her heart that she almost chokes on the fire of it. What right does he have to interrogate her and  threaten her?

“Are you glad?” She asks, her voice steady despite the tremble in her hand holding his wrist in turn. “Are you glad to have killed her?”

His expression flips as if he’s been struck, crinkled brows shooting up. “What?”

“Will you be glad to have killed me?” She asks tightly, her nails biting ineffectual crescents into his titanium flesh. Her tone is sharp and no longer meant to soothe. She speaks to cut. “Or will you just be even more alone?”

Like hers, his eyes turn glassy. “No,” he says softly. She doesn’t know if that’s an answer or a plea.

“Let me go,” she tells him firmly, fighting to hold onto the fires of her own indignant anger. His abrupt flashes of softness and vulnerability compromise her resolve.

“Go where, Layla?” He snaps, suddenly loud again. His broken desperation and seething anger make his voice reedy. “Where the fuck could you go that I wouldn’t still feel you? Kill you, fuck you, love you; you’re in my fucking head!”

You’re all the fucking same!

She isn’t dead, but he’s treating her like a ghost nonetheless. As if she’s already one of the many specters haunting him.

“You love me?” She asks him, snatching that precarious lifeline out of the messy slurry of his words. She’s not sure that he knows the meaning of it. 

Does she?

The tension in Homelander’s face goes slack, stricken to hear those words fall from her lips. His mouth opens and closes as he tries and fails to form the right words. It’s too vulnerable to say yes, and too complicated to say no. Ultimately, he can’t bear to answer first.

“Do you love me?” He asks, defensive, as if she were the one who brought the terrifying gravity of love into the equation in the first place. The weight of it turns her tongue to lead.

There’s an adolescent sense of fumbling in this moment that would be endearing if he were not clutching her jaw with inhuman strength, the whispered promise of her death hanging over them like a creaky guillotine. In another life, this could have been a very sweet confession.

“Do you?” He prompts her again, desperate. He cups the back of her head with his other hand, taking a step closer. His chest bumps her forearms where she has them tightly braced, hands clamped tightly over his wrist. It’s a meager barrier to uphold, but she does so steadfastly. His hold on her is suffocating, his agonized ocean eyes filling up her vision. He’s larger than life, leaving space for little else in her life ever since he crashed into it.

Even when he’s gone, she is consumed by him like a fever that refuses to be sweated out. When her career first began, she knew well enough not to entertain superhumans. It wasn’t a bias she held against them per se, but the opposite: she knew from the start that she would become intoxicated on the danger of them. Homelander is the epitome of everything she’s ever been too afraid to let herself love. He’s the first person to ever be enough of a risk to scare her, and enough of a reward to satiate her. She can feel her destruction lurking in him just as plainly as her parents found their own in their shared thrill seeking.

“I want to,” she whispers, a secret she’s denied even to herself until now. “But you’re making it so fucking hard.”

He exhales roughly, something like hope softening the tension in his expression before he screws his eyes shut, another wave of agony contorting his features. His forehead thumps gently against hers. “I don’t know—I don’t know how else to be. I don’t know how. I don’t know how to make it easy.”

Finally, he releases her jaw from the snare of his grip, only to take either side of her face between his hands, pulling away to look at her. He’s always been younger than her in a multitude of ways, but in this moment, the agonized youth in his eyes takes her breath away. “I was—I was made to be loved. I was supposed to be everyone’s hero. They poked and prodded me, manufactured me in a-a fucking lab to be perfect, but no one—”

Layla’s eyes widen, her heart seized. What?

Homelander bares his teeth like a wounded animal, breath hissing in and out of his clenched teeth as tears roll down his cheeks. “But no one does, no one fucking does, no one loves me,” he says through his teeth, nearly choking on the words. “I don’t understand how to make it easy, Layla,” he sobs, hands shaking on either side of her face. She can’t tell if it’s from sheer emotion, or the restraint it takes not to crush her between them.

“So just—tell me what I need to do, please,” he begs her, devastatingly beautiful in the same way the sprawling webbing of a shattered mirror is. “Tell me how to be easy to love.”

Breathless, Layla stands there with her heart bleeding so freely, so painfully, that she swears there’s warm blood soaking onto the pristine white blouse she wears.

There is a monster in Homelander. At times, she can feel the claws of it in his grip on her. Hear it growling in her ear. When it comes to handling monsters, banishment is always the remedy. Slay the beast, free the man. Homelander’s monster is not so easily felled, nor is she certain it should be. He was not born with sharp teeth and claws. From what she’s gathered, they were filed into fine points long before he was a man.

People like to think of the monster within them as an outside force. Corruption, propaganda, the devil. Layla has spent enough time in bed with people’s deviance to know better. The proverbial devil is not outside of humanity, but embedded deep within It cannot be safely extracted any more than a beating heart can.

But corruption isn’t a heart—it’s a stomach. 

It craves and yearns, it twists and aches and growls when hungry. Just as Eve ate of the apple, humans take bites of sin to satiate their monster. Like people, monsters come in a wide variety of shapes, temperaments, and cravings. Some beasts can be satisfied with a nibble here and there. Others require more. Some never learned how to know when they’re full.

After all he has been deprived of, Homelander may never be truly satisfied, but does that mean he doesn’t deserve to be fed at all?

No, Layla thinks. It doesn’t.

Both of their faces are streaked wet with tears as they hold one another’s gazes. Gingerly, she brings her own hands up to cup his face, wiping his tears with her thumbs. “Okay,” she whispers, afraid her own voice of reason will hear her. “Okay, my darling.”

Relief helps smooth the crease between his brows, but it doesn’t dissipate entirely. “Say it,” he urges her, the hands still upon her face giving the faintest nudge. “Say you love me.”

“I love you,” she says, teary and quiet, but with conviction. She leans in, and he allows her to, no longer holding her firmly in place for fear that she might suddenly vanish. “I love you,” she says again, a promise that ghosts his lips. He shudders. “I love you. You’re in my head,” she says, echoing his own words back at him. Her lips brush against his in a not-quite kiss. “You were from the start.”

He exhales a pained, keening sound, pushing his fingers into her hair and pulling her deep into a feverish kiss. His hunger for her is voracious, and his desire is a force she might not withstand—not by virtue of its violence, but because of its sheer magnitude. He kisses her fiercely, one arm slipping around her middle to keep her body from bowing under the weight of his love.

“I love you, too,” he breathes, the relief in his voice palpable. She takes the air of it into her lungs like it might save her. “I love you so fucking much.”

It’s dangerous, she knows, to trick herself into believing she can satiate his mountainous hunger. Danger is like an ice bath, though. You grow accustomed to the bite of it.

Morning light creeps slowly into Layla’s condo. Homelander trails her as closely as her own shadow, breathing in against the crook of her neck while she cooks breakfast. He’s partially dressed in his undershirt and underwear, his suit folded neatly upon her vanity for the time being. It’s nice to feel his arms around her without the obstructive padding of his suit. Without the bulk of it, she fits more closely against him, his superhuman warmth like a particularly cuddly space heater pressed against her back.

“One egg or two?” She asks him, plucking one from the container on the counter.

“Mmm… Two,” he says, the deliberation making it sound more like a trivia answer than a preference.

She cracks four eggs into the pan, one at a time. “Over easy, medium, hard…?”

He grins against her neck, and she gives his hand at her hip a playful little swat with the back of her silicone spatula. “I dunno,” he says, nuzzling her. “However you like it.”

“Have you never had eggs before?” She asks, looking back at him. 

He’s got his chin propped up on her shoulder. His gaze flickers up from the sizzling pan to meet hers. “Just scrambled.”

…I was made… manufactured in a fucking lab…

She swallows a small lump in her throat, turning back to the eggs. She flips them all over easy and plates them with the toast. When she takes the toast off of the plates and begins slicing them into strips, Homelander makes an inquisitive noise.

“You’ll see,” she says cryptically, shooing him to the table as she plates their breakfasts and carries them to the table.

Homelander sits, and she sets his plate down in front of him. She sits on the adjoining corner to his, but within seconds he has a grip on her seat. The chair legs groan as he slides her closer to him, smiling at her look of surprise. “That’s better,” he says, his knee bumping hers.

He’d likely prefer she be in his lap. There’s always a lingering sense that she’s never quite close enough, even when they’re pressed tightly against one another. He might not be satisfied until he finds a way to open her up and crawl inside.

Huffing a small laugh, she gestures to his plate. “Use the toast sticks to break the yolk,” she tells him, and then demonstrates on her own meal, jabbing a piece of toast into the soft yellow yolk, coating it properly before taking a bite.

Blinking, Homelander does the same. He hums appreciatively, nodding with a mouthful of food.

“My gramma insisted that all food tastes better when it’s dipped. She always made my breakfasts this way,” she explains, her smile tinged with bittersweet nostalgia. “I can’t remember the last time I did it for myself.” 

Silence follows. She glances up to find Homelander staring intently at his plate, a cut of toast pinched between his fingers, dripping yolk back down onto the egg. Layla takes a breath to speak, but that inhale is all it takes to snap him from his thoughts, his sharp blue eyes meeting hers.

“Ryan would like this, I think,” he says. She can tell he’s working to keep his voice conversational.

“Ryan?” She echoes, though it clicks a second after she says it.

“My son,” he confirms, clearing his throat gently. She shares his trepidation as he enters this particular topic of conversation, considering the fallout the last time it was broached. He dips the toast again and takes another bite, seemingly buying time with deliberate chews.

Layla bites her tongue, choking back her own knee-jerk response. She likes children just fine, in theory. She’s had very little practical experience. Still, words of unbidden advice bubble up on her tongue as if she’s an expert. She wants to tell Homelander to go to the boy, talk to him. He told her that she had taken everything from him, presumably referring to his very public meltdown, but that isn’t true in a number of ways. He has a son out there somewhere, confused and without either of his parents.

It sets a sympathetic churn in her gut. Grieving her own parents as a child made an adult of her far too soon. She may not have raised any children herself, but she can speak as a child who was left behind.

“He’s nine. He’s strong,” Homelander continues tentatively. “I mean, really strong. Strong like me,” he says, pride underlining each word, driving out the hesitance. “He’s so much like me. I never thought I’d see it, but he’s real. He’s—” he breaks into a small, incredulous laugh. “—He’s a miracle. A real, born miracle.”

Unlike you, she surmises from his tone. He said that Vought had made him. The world has been rocked by the revelation that supes are the result of Vought’s pharmaceutical ventures, but the way Homelander talks of his son makes him sound different. An exception to that fact, somehow.

“You should go to him,” she encourages, still holding onto a level of cautiousness on the matter. “I was left behind by my parents. I don’t wish it on anyone.”

“I didn’t leave him behind,” Homelander corrects sharply. She was right to tread lightly. “He left me,” he says, though he doesn’t speak with anger so much as he does woundedness. He’s never expressed anything but love—bordering on reverence—for his son, and yet he has completely roadblocked himself from reaching out.

It’s complicated, he told her before.

“He’s nine. It’s not his job to uncomplicate things or bridge the gap,” she says as gently as she can muster, though even she can hear the weariness in her own voice. “It’s yours. He needs you to be the adult, to help the world make sense. It’s one thing to give him space, but you can’t abandon him.”

At first, there is a flash of petulant defiance in Homelander’s eyes, obvious in the tight set of his jaw. To Layla’s relief, however, it fades into quiet consideration. He looks back down to his half-finished plate.

“You can’t take personally what anyone, much less a child, does out of grief,” she says softly, reaching out to put her hand atop his where it rests on the table. “Ryan needs wisdom. Support. People who love him. He needs his father.”

He looks up at her with a level of vulnerability in those ocean blue eyes that never fails to pull her into the depths. “You think so?”

“I know so,” she says firmly. To this day, she can’t imagine what she wouldn’t do for just one more day with her own father. 

Slowly, the wateriness of his gaze becomes a sparkle. Homelander smiles. He has as many smiles as an ice cream shop has flavors, and this one says he’s just had an idea.

“What?” Layla asks after a beat, an edge of suspicion to her tone.

“Nothing,” he says placatingly. His smile shifts. She knows that flavor of smile. That one means he’s lying. “Just relieved is all. Could I use your phone?”

It’s a wonder the ease with which Homelander glides from mood to mood, as if he puts each one neatly in a box before he takes out the next one. Layla only hesitates for a second before she nods, sliding out of her chair to go and fetch her cellphone. She still needs to text Annie.

“Jesus,” she says softly, staring at her screen with a deep crease in her brow.

“What?” Homelander asks, leaning in his seat.

She has thirty missed calls, and about as many text messages.

THIS IS ASHLEY BARRET. HAVE YOU SEEN HOMELANDER? IF YOU KNOW WHERE HOMELANDER IS, PLEASE CONTACT ME. PLEASE CONTACT ME IF YOU KNOW WHERE HOMELANDER IS. MISS ALDEN PLEASE CONTACT ME AND ONLY ME IF YOU HAVE SEEN HOMELANDER. IF YOU CAN PLEASE INFORM HOMELANDER HE IS UP.

Ashley Barret. Layla recalls the name from Homelander’s initial booking. She had been the one to handle the details and arrange payment.

“Ashley Barret is very desperate to find you,” she says, reading the texts as she walks back towards him. “She says that you’re… up.” She stops at the table, looking at him. “What does that mean?”

The chair legs scrape audibly against the floor when Homelander stands up. “Give me that,” he says, taking the phone from her outstretched hand. His expression pinches tightly as he scrolls through the messages, lips parted. “I’m… up,” he says slowly, processing the words that mean nothing to Layla. With a tap, she hears a dial tone. Homelander holds the phone to his ear.

“Miss Alden–” answers a feminine voice immediately.

“What do you mean I’m up?” Homelander interrupts, a harshness to his voice that Layla doesn’t expect to hear outside of an argument.

“21 points with your base,” Ashley says breathlessly.

Homelander’s expression softens, becoming wonder-like. “What did you say?”

“21 points. They loved your speech!”

He looks at Layla, familiar glassiness returning to his eyes. He lifts his loose hand, which curls slowly into a fist, as if he’s taking hold of something precious, some nebulous concept of grace he had thought lost. 

“A massive 44% uptick with white males in the Rust Belt.”

“Yes,” Homelander hisses through his teeth, pumping his fist triumphantly. “Fuck yes! Yes!” With that same hand, he suddenly takes hold of the back of Layla’s neck, pulling her into a deep kiss. Her noise of surprise is muffled against his lips, his tongue a slick demand on hers.

“They’re saying you’re confident and unapologetic!” Ashley’s voice continues to prattle from the phone, though Layla’s finding it hard to pay attention with the way Homelander’s taking a fistful of her hair, bowing her back, kissing her hungrily. “That you’re not afraid to be yourself!”

He outright moans against her lips. She breaks away from him with a gasp, hand pressed against her chest. “Should I give you a moment alone with Ashley?” She asks breathlessly, only half-joking. The man is absolutely alight against her, heat radiating in his touches. The news trips an alarm bell somewhere in the back of Layla’s mind, but she’s struggling to process it in the wake of his voraciousness.

“Christ, no,” he says. The phone hits the ground with a clatter, Ashley’s confused voice continuing distantly on the line. He cups both sides of Layla’s face and pulls her back in, exhaling a pleased little growl against her lips. “Did you hear? They love me. They fucking love me,” he says between kisses, breathless and downright giddy.

Drawing back, he strokes her cheeks tenderly with his thumbs, his smile broad, eyes shining with relief, joy, and something Layla can’t quite place, though it causes a small knot to form in her gut.

“They want me to be myself.”

#this chapter took everything out of me but it's here and i hope to god it doesn't take this long for the next chap #bc i already have portions written and i know where it's all going!!! #blood sweat and tears in this fic fr lmao #homelander x oc #homelander x original character #homelander fanfiction #eat your ego #my writing

[kithtaehyung]

broken, pt. 1 (3tan) | myg

title: broken (pt. 1) pairing: 3tan!yoongi x reader(f) series:masterlist | three tangerines | fireworks | house party | basketball | stay | sidewalk talk | friends | dalo | like that | anytime | sundress season | yoongi’s interlude | forfeit | flutter | video call | busted rating/genre: m (18+) ; angst , fluff ; brother’s best friend au, implied age gap au summary: chilling conversations prolong things even further… until everything goes to hell. note: this is only one half of what was supposed to be a whole chapter! broken, pt. 2 will come out after i've had time to make it something i'm proud of. trying to rush everything out didn't do any favors, so hilariously and ironically, broken is broken up into two hahaha. warnings: language, angst, tension, yoongi’s pov is longgg, alcohol consumption, tobacco mentions, bro🥲, yoongi in the studio😩, the studio boys make another appearance👀, …someone else makes their first appearance👀👀, scuffles, tense situations, did i say angst?, water bottles get their own warning, long hair yoongi, basketball yoongi🫠, crying, bro a ha ha, jimin has tats and he’s not afraid to show them, the chains stay on(???), …bad boy yoongi😀👍, honestly he is on another level of warning here don’t perceive me💀, the fluff is fluffing here like what, backstory we’ve been waiting for😗, yoongi on the phone, hand holding :’)), kissing :’)), oh god the kissing❤️‍🩹, there’s just a lot in both parts i'm sorry y'all playlist: broken (lp) drop date: dec 3rd, 2023, 4:00pm est word count: ...19.1k 🚶‍♀️

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Words abandon you.

They stand far from your form, pitying observers of your decaying state in front of the man you’ve been lying to. At once, you feel completely alone, not even Yoongi’s lingering presence helping when those eyes are piercing through time and space. Everything you’ve experienced over the past two years slings across your vision, from the first time you left your house in the pouring rain to get to Yoongi’s, to the car ride back you just took with his kiss still on your lips. 

All of those moments shattering into dust around your heels. 

Your feet make lines in them when you move to close the front door, something leaving your mouth before you can judge if it makes sense, “About what?” 

Zero sense. Absolute zero sense. Which your brother has absolute zero patience for. The drone in his question hits you like a punch to the gut, “Really.” 

“Just out late, is all,” you grumble, trying your best to not acknowledge an atmosphere so tense it’s almost crowded. “Jimin had another party, remember?” 

“Course I do.”

Huh? Wait. Why does he sound so—

“I was there.”

Dread launches up your veins, rocketing right to your heart in the middle of a pulse. He was there? You saw his car when Yoongi pulled up close to the house. He was there? When the fuck did he arrive? Oh, fuck, if he got there early enough… did he see you… and Yoongi…

No. There’s no way. Because one, Yoongi parked far down and around the corner. He made sure not to be close just in case you two could be spotted. 

With a thought you really cannot afford right now, you also assume he stayed that distance just so that he could pin you against his car. Fucking hell, focus! Upping the strength of your resolve to match cardboard, you lamely stall in your hunt for clarification, “You were?” 

“I was.” 

The watch on his wrist glints in its twist. When aggravated veins stare back at you, it’s obvious your brother is on the edge. Because he is deathly calm. “So where’d you go?” 

You blink, not having expelled a single breath since you stepped foot inside. 

Does he not know? Or does he know and he’s just waiting for you to finally spill? With all the hope in the universe, you yearn for it to be the first one. Because you cannot deal with a fallout right now. Not right after what happened with Yoongi. 

It’s just not the right time. 

“Yuri’s,” you blurt, finally kicking into gear and strategizing how you’re gonna finesse this. “She came and got me.” 

Your sibling just stands there, eyes a solid beam before he sighs at clasped wrists. 

Here it comes. He’s gonna ask why you didn’t say anything. Like he always does because for some reason you’re still not a true adult to him and he has to keep tabs on you at all times and you can’t just sneak around with his best friend in peace—

“K.” Your eyes shake once. “Just tell me next time.” 

And just like that, your brother vacates the foyer, dark dress shoes clacking as he retreats back into his room. Leaving you standing in silence. 

All the words around you just as speechless. 

Just like that, you’re gone again.

After watching you leave and wishing you didn’t have to, Yoongi shuts his door to rest ponderous thoughts on worn wood. Eyes closed and a storm on his mind’s horizon.

Just a little longer. He hopes you’ll understand. This is just something he needs. More than anything else. 

Exhausted, he peels himself from the door, meandering through the bog of his living room. Trudge, trudge, trudge to the dining table, skirting fingers along the edge and noting that it feels different than before. 

At least something in his apartment has changed for the better. 

Who would’ve thought that table would witness both an end and a beginning. That it would see the worst and best of him. If it was ever called to stand, there’s no doubt that it could recite all his failures and shortcomings. But he hopes that it would also attest to how much he’s fucking tried. 

As much as Yoongi wants to throw it out, he hasn’t. Because despite being withered to hell, all it needed to recover was the new company of a familiar face. 

And a little bit of summer rain. 

It watches as his thoughts move on, and soaks in the blues and pinks of sunrise as he crosses into the bedroom. At the feel of your lingering presence, Yoongi gnaws on his lip. 

What the fuck does he do now? The moment you leave, he wants nothing more than to have you back in his bed. It’s the one fact that he has come to fully acknowledge. Because there are many times you’ve caught him slipping. But when you’re lost to your dreams? Visibly at peace and safe under his sheets? That’s when he can’t even think straight. 

How your serenity throws him into disarray, Yoongi has no fucking clue.

But he can’t afford these feelings right now. Because how can he want you close while being the reason for this distance? Make it make sense. Don’t be a fucking hypocrite. Tsking, Yoongi once again accepts the consequences, heading to his bathroom before going back the fuck to sleep. 

Lies. Who is he kidding? There’s no way his rest will be the same without you. Especially since he doesn’t know when he’ll get to see you next. 

There is a way to remedy that. To put an end to your time apart. But Yoongi’s been so in his fucking head that it’s chaining him down and pulling taut. No matter how much he struggles, he can’t break free, and it’s driving him to the brink.

But last night? With you? Half moons mar his palms as he stands. Staring. Branding that whole memory into his heart.

After three months of questioning his existence. 

All it took was your soft hums to give him a reason. 

And you won’t ever know how much that meant to him. Not until Yoongi finally decides to tell you. Which will most likely be never. Maybe that’s why this time tears at his chest more than all the others. Maybe that’s why he stood in his doorway longer than usual. Maybe that’s why he can’t quite carry the weight in his chest.

Dumping himself on dark mountains—creations of his and your design—Yoongi buries his face in those valleys. Inhales those aromas like some hit he can live off of for however many days left he needs. 

Desperately grasping for a fading world where only you two exist. Drifting. Dreaming. Disarmed by a vibration on his nightstand.

The fuck.

Who is texting him this early. There are only a few people he has notifications on for wait it’s probably you saying you’re home.

Peeling himself off the sheets with a groan, Yoongi simply shifts his upper body to reach for his phone, squinty-eyed as he checks his screen.

And he doesn’t see your name.

Dumbass: 1 New Message

But your brother’s.

What the hell does he—

Dumbass [07:30]: We need to talk.

…Shit.

Yoongi grips his phone in panic, ice water streaming through his veins and mind set ablaze with potential scenarios.

He’s awake. You went home. And he’s awake. Fuck, did anything happen? Did you say anything? What are the chances this text means he found everything out? 

Shit. 

Does Yoongi answer now? Or does he sleep and pretend that this is just a text and isn’t a problem at all? Think. Your brother may not even be referencing you, or him. Right? It could be something completely different. 

Why can’t he fucking move? 

Every regret Yoongi’s kept at bay floods his brain, crashing into assumptions of your mental state and creating a massive whirlpool of dread. Just answer. Don’t answer. Just answer. Don’t fucking answer. Suddenly, another alert lights his home screen and it’s a call oh fuck—wait… It’s Jungkook? 

Why not. Sure. What’s one more issue. 

Picking up, Yoongi runs hard fingers through his hair as he answers.

“Hey, you coming?”

“Huh?”

“We have that session in thirty.”

The what. The session? Oh, fuck. The session. Yoongi completely forgot they had a recording booked today because they were so hyped last night to get a date for the release party shit. Vacating his bed, Yoongi answers with a low, “Yeah, I’ll be there.” 

“Yeah, don’t be late. It’s those guys from before.” 

Fuck, it’s that one. The dudes that stopped by the studio just as things were wrapping up, shocking everyone when they scheduled some time. Highly successful musicians and performers booking something with a no name studio? Things are rolling in the right direction and coming along fast. 

But as things go. If they don’t take this shit seriously, everything can crash just as quickly.

“Heading out,” Yoongi finally says as he yanks a hoodie from his closet, and a loud vibration against his ear makes him flinch. 

Dumbass [7:40]: Heading over

Fuck!

“You okay?” 

“Shit, yeah.” Yoongi grips soft material before his phone hits his desk with a thump. Hastily dressing, he grunts, “Maybe. Might be like two minutes late.” 

“Nah, come now.” 

He’s heading over? Your brother? If that’s the case, there’s no way he doesn’t know. 

Fuck, relax. Don’t overthink. If anything, there wouldn’t have even been a heads-up. Yoongi figures he’d just find out as soon as he’s thrown against a wall. Or the ground. Or right onto his coffee table that this very guy helped pick out. Shit, he needs to know but he doesn’t wanna find out. 

But nevermind him. Are you okay? Swiping his device, Yoongi quickly types a text before fast-walking out of his room, going on autopilot when he assures into his receiver, “I’ll get there.” 

Yoongi [7:42]: Going to the studio

“On time? You better!”

Goddamn, he’s juggling too much right now. 

As Yoongi breaks into the dining room, he hears a rustling on the line before other voices jut through the speaker. Sounds like Hobi and Joon are already there, and the next thing said further spikes his stress level another peak, 

“We’re already cutting it close with the prep.” 

Fucking hell, the prep. The mics, the tracks, the setup. They forgot to do all of it. Something inside of him starts snarling and almost pounces through the phone, “Fuck, we should’ve been ready already.” 

“Shit, I know.” 

“We can’t keep doing this.” 

“Dude, relax, I get it.” 

“Do you? Cus this is… Fuck.” 

“Yeah, yeah, we’ll get it done but it’s gonna be tight. Hey, where’s the… Damn it, what’s it called?”

Frustrated and rummaging through his pantry, Yoongi knows he sure as hell didn’t think about anything else as soon as he heard you crying on the line. If he had remembered while leaving the studio, he could’ve spared a brain cell to rush everyone back in. “The what.” 

“The… The overhead mic for the drums.” 

Of course, he’d repeat every decision he made last night. Over, and over, and over again. But any of them should’ve remembered this step before leaving, which pisses him off. The studio’s lack of experience is showing and it’s making him nervous. 

And Yoongi still doesn’t know what’s going on with his best friend. 

“We need two overheads for drums,” he corrects while swiping a water bottle from the counter. And he’s about to rattle off where they are when he feels another long buzz. 

Dumbass: Incoming Call 

Of fucking course. 

Mind whirring so hard he can feel steam, Yoongi quickly recalls where the mics are, “They’re somewhere in the back by the amps, but I gotta take this so I’ll see y’all there.” 

“Wait, where are the—”

Nope. Kook’s just gonna have to figure out whatever he’s asking on his own. Switching calls, Yoongi answers while opening his door, hastily putting out the food and water he grabbed from the kitchen. 

“Hey.” Fuck, is his voice shaking? What the hell is he gonna be faced with in the next few seconds? Can he freeze time and rewind and keep last night on repeat? “I’m about to head out.” 

“Don’t leave yet, I’m coming.” 

“No, just”—Yoongi dashes back inside before grabbing his wallet and keys from the bar—“You good? I can’t be late.” 

“Don’t lie. Y’all are done, right?” 

Don’t lie. Yoongi feels like hurling. 

“We got another project,” he huffs as he meets sunrise again, blazing a trail through his corridor and rounding the corner to his car. “A band’s coming in for a session.”

“Shit.”

There’s a pause on the line. And it’s the first bit of silence Yoongi’s had since he got the first bone-chilling text. Is his secret safe? Are you okay? Should he work extra late and run from a problem yet again? He’s very good at that. Running. If there was a medal for distance ran from issues, he’d be on the podium for both gold and silver.

“Okay, fine.” 

Relief is temporary. This could just be him biding his time in order to figure out what to do. Or maybe he truly doesn’t know what’s going on and Yoongi has a bit more uninterrupted time with you. 

Delusion is a great place to stay.

In any case, his friend’s behavior is alarming. What’s he doing up this early? And why is he wanting to swing by so bad if not to slice him into tiny pieces? Nerves slow on the downslope, Yoongi shuts his car door and lends his ear, “But serious, are you okay?”

“I just… Tch. I can’t even say it.”

He lets his friend go through a series of small sounds on the line, pulling out of the lot and hitting the road with tire squeaks. “What’s up,” he finally pushes, looking sideways and remembering the car ride home. 

There was no way Yoongi was gonna say no to you. He didn’t in this universe, and he’d bet his whole life he doesn’t in any other one, either. Not when your wings looked like you hadn’t used them in months.    

Pained, Yoongi hopes you’re completely fine and sleeping. Tucked away in a bed that captured part of his heart, visiting him in your dreams so that some version of him can be at your side. 

“Everything, Yoong.” 

But, as it so starkly turns out, he has to deal with reality. And with the fact that you’re just as far away as you were before last night. Maybe even further out of reach. 

So, so far away. 

“There’s a ton of shit, but. Fuck. Guess we’ll have to wait.”

Right now, deal with the studio prep and get through the session that will probably take awhile. After that, meet up with your brother and hope to god he doesn’t know. “K.”

“Just lemme know when you get back.”

Then, when all of that is done, Yoongi will be alone. Staring into the night and trying his hardest not to give up on himself again. “Yeah, I will.” 

“No running.”

“K.”

When the call ends, Yoongi lets out the harshest breath he’s ever let out in his life. Hoping you went right to sleep without dealing with any of that. 

“How did that sound?” 

Looking into the recording room, Yoongi raises a thumbs up as Hoseok clicks back to the beginning of the track. At their side, Namjoon hits a button on the console before speaking into a microphone, “Y’all wanna come hear it?” 

“We can move on. Wanna get the doubling done.” 

Huh? They’re gonna move onto vocal doubling already? With a few blinks, Yoongi think it’d be better if they—

“Okay!” Jungkook agrees from the couch, cutting out any other thoughts. “If any of you need adjustments, let us know.” 

“Yeah, actually, can one of you come switch this out?” 

Joon throws a suggestion over his shoulder, but Yoongi is already heading for the booth before his name is even mentioned. 

Get everything done smooth. Stay disciplined. Be professional, goddamn it.

Entering the soundproofed room will always make him want to occupy the mic instead. That feeling hasn’t gone away, and there have been countless nights where he’s spent time just sitting in this very space, visualizing what it would be like to work on this side of the glass someday. Deep down, Yoongi knows he could be somebody. But imposter syndrome runs deep. 

Avoiding cables strewn about the room, he offers his hands without a word, taking a guitar from the lead singer and making his leave—

“Hey.” He turns. “You’re good.” 

What? Where the hell did that come from? Did he even hear this guy right or was he just daydreaming again? Yoongi’s so thrown he can only stare with question marks for eyes. 

Amused, the singer simply points to the side of his beaming countenance. “You have an ear.” 

Huh. How the hell can this dude tell? All Yoongi’s done is indicate if a recording take was good or not, and given a few minuscule suggestions to the keyboardist and guitarist—instruments he’s well-versed in. 

Yet again, he’s so in his head that the man outright laughs, “Relax! You can talk to us like normal, you know. None of us care about etiquette shit.” 

“Shit, my bad,” Yoongi finally responds, instrument in his hands proving a little lighter. “Thanks.” 

“Of course.” Swishing long bangs to the side, the performer rests a hand on his hip. “We’re open to anything. We’d just tell you if your opinion sucks.” 

Eyes creasing with his lips, Yoongi puffs out a laugh. 

“Kidding. Only a little.”

Even though these people are world-renowned, they’re the first humble group to run through the studio. Everyone else has been either cocky, standoffish, or super opinionated, which made for unproductive hours.

Yoongi likes this change of pace. His shoulders start to feel composed, less scrunched than they had been since you left his place this morning. Comforted, he looks down at the guitar in his fingers.

Choosing not to say what he wants to. 

Should he? Nah. These guys know what they’re doing. Despite the nice offer to speak up, it’s not his place. Far from it. 

…But what would you tell him to do? What would you be proud of?

Committed to his answer, Yoongi grips the neck and decides without another thought, 

“Do the chorus again.” 

The whole studio stills. But all he’s looking at is the man in front of him, shaking his head when they ask, “Same way?” 

“Uhm. No.” As he hands the guitar back, Yoongi wordlessly checks if he can see the sheet music. When given the go-ahead, he scans the lines before pointing out a passage to note, 

“Mm. Here. Vocals are fine as is, but. Ride the build-up quicker and hit the next chord after a bit longer.” When he stops, he has to fight to ignore the eyes on him. There’s no doubt that his extended time in the recording room is being questioned, and his hand movements probably make him look stupid. “It’ll keep in time but hit harder.” 

Done. He said it. 

And the response that follows puts complete silence to shame. 

Instantly self-conscious, Yoongi swears he can hear Hobi’s pants shift in the control room through two closed doors shit he took it too far. Fuck, if these guys walk out now the studio is done for and he’ll be the only reason why—

“Well, goddamn. Let’s try that then.” 

Huh. They’re gonna take that? 

As he steps away, Yoongi feels slightly awkward doused in attention. Yeah, expressions seem like looks of approval, but they could just be polite. 

The man hums the chorus with Yoongi’s notes in mind, and his eyebrows tick a bit before he addresses the others in the room, “You heard him?”

“Mmhmm.”

“Yeah, we can try that.”

“Why didn’t you think of that, Woosung?”

Yoongi can’t keep his amusement under wraps as the singer laughs, addressing his keyboardist with a grin, “Damn, not even Sammy? Straight to Woosung, huh.”

“Sammy would’ve thought of it.”

Another bout of mirth spreads joy around the recording booth, and Yoongi shares a look with the singer before they both nod. 

“Let’s see how it sounds.” 

“K.”

Proud and adrenaline-filled, he turns to walk back to the door, head so buzzed he doesn’t know what to do. But when Yoongi can’t see into the control room anymore, he misses a stare through the glass.

A stare that lingers on him just a little too long. 

The rest of the session goes smooth, and Yoongi’s relieved that they haven’t asked him for anything else. 

After all. He doesn’t wanna push it, or step on Jungkook’s toes. What happened in the recording room only went down because you would have scolded him for not seizing that moment. And the suggestion he gave was lauded after the next take.

It was the first time since you kissed him goodbye that he felt a healthy pulse in his chest. Despite the chaos of the morning, amid the thoughts and worries penetrating his brain, you reached out and kept him steady in just the right moment. 

Fuck being his good luck charm. You give guardian angels shame and you don’t even know it. 

“Okay, we’ll take ten after this.”

Jungkook holds up an arm while agreeing, “Okay! We’ll save what we got!” 

Yoongi’s scanning the tracks when he feels hovering over his shoulder, and he already knows it’s the kid without looking. “Sup.”

“Nothing.”

“You sure.”

At this, Jungkook pauses before he sighs. “Yeah, it’s nothing,” he clearly lies. 

But Yoongi will let him figure out whether to run with that or not. He seems a little bothered about something, and it very well could be what happened in the booth. This is work, and they’re both adults. If he wants to talk about something, Yoongi will gladly have that conversation. 

Suddenly, a vibration erupts in his hoodie pocket, and his phone is fished out without him even thinking. 

Hustler: Incoming C—

Shit. You wouldn’t call him at work unless it’s urgent. Which is quickly throwing any possible theories about your brother not knowing out the window. 

But fuck, he can’t answer yet. There’s no way. Not only is he in very close range to someone you don’t wanna speak to right now, but he’d get blasted for being on his phone during a session. Hoping you can wait just two more minutes, Yoongi turns the buzzing off within his hoodie pocket, anxiously waiting for the take to start. 

Hoping to everything that Jungkook didn’t happen to see what was on his screen. 

As soon as everyone looks pleased—three takes and thirty minutes later—Yoongi quickly excuses himself from the control room. His head practically overheats on the way out back, but the gust of morning breeze serves to soothe it some. 

It’s been chilly lately. A bit grey. But whatever the weather has been outside, it’s no match for the atmosphere of his brain. 

Pulling his hood over hair he hasn’t cut in months, Yoongi looks around before ringing you up. Hoping that you’re good and didn’t have to go through a version of his panic earlier. 

Hustler: Outgoing Call 

Straight to voicemail? Shit.

Hustler: Outgoing Call

Fuck, still voicemail. Are you okay? On the phone with someone else? Did your brother actually end up finding out and things are worse than he thought? Clutching his phone, Yoongi glances up while giving it slight shakes, body on alert while deciding what the hell to do now. 

Maybe he can at least text you to ask what the hell happened this morning? Typing. Erasing. Retyping. Retrying. 

Yoongi [9:02]: Got a session today, doll. 

That’s what he had to say? That won’t do you any good, the fuck? Berating himself with a sigh, he takes a few steps while texting a follow-up. 

Yoongi [9:03]: Still going, but are you good?

Staring, it takes him a few seconds to decide if this is enough. If these two messages are gonna suffice to help him figure out what the hell he’s getting into later. 

It’s not. There’s too much he needs to know. 

Hustler: Outgoing Call 

When it doesn’t ring a third time, Yoongi gives up, cursing before turning and raking his hood off in distress.

Only to see Woosung materializing out of nowhere—relaxed, silent, and taking a drag. 

Shit. How much of that did he witness?

“Been there,” the man empathizes, blowing out smoke into crisp morning. After a swell of early traffic fills the alleyway, he continues, “In trouble?”

Great. With a sound of dejection, Yoongi answers to a stack of random boxes, “Might be.” 

“Don’t wanna commit anymore?” 

“I do,” Yoongi blurts without hesitation, looking right into eyes that have seen plenty more than he has. 

And it’s the first time he’s admitted anything out loud. To a stranger miles above him in status, no less. Hands stuffed in his pockets, he clarifies, “It’s just… There’s something I need to do first.” 

Wait a sec. Why the fuck is he talking about this so freely? This isn’t something he does. Privacy is practically his brand. So why is it easy to talk to this guy? It’s him, for fuck’s sake. But what’s done is done. Woosung probably won’t even remember this conversation even happened, or is already annoyed as hell he didn’t get a good read on him. 

To Yoongi’s surprise, his alley companion speaks again after another white wisp. “Mmm… Something you need to do?”

Well. Yoongi walked right into this one. Swallowing and knowing he can’t dip out, he sighs, “Some shit I wanna finish.” The smell of tobacco wafts around him when he looks at dulled skies. “Shit I need to get through.” 

An amused hum floats through empty space. “Been there, too.” 

Yoongi slowly turns to regard his client, watching as Woosung becomes very interested in wet concrete.

What kind of shit has this guy seen? Surely, he could have had some of the same experiences. The slight droop in his confident shoulders tells enough. But would he understand the exact same situation? 

No. At least, Yoongi hopes not. Quite fucking frankly, he hopes no one has had to go through the same shit that he has. 

“Let me know if you ever need help,” Woosung offers, shocking Yoongi to the point of speechlessness. As he drops his cigarette to squash it out, he runs a hand through wild dark locks. “We’ll be around again.” 

Wait. What? Yoongi can only blink. “Serious?”

“Yeah.” The man looks down the outside corridor, watching as people start heading to their jobs through a central courtyard. “Got a good feeling about this place.”

What does he mean by that. What can Woosung possibly mean by that what does he mean they’ll be back? To the studio? To the city? What’s happening. Yoongi simply lets a pause prevail before offering the only response he’s capable of,

“It’s the food next door, huh.”

That laugh has got to be top five in the world. Not as great as yours, but definitely up there in terms of what makes Yoongi feel like things are alright. Not that he’d ever admit that shit to anyone. Ever.

Mercifully, the conversation moves away from risky topics. Instead, there are talks about a tour one is planning for his band’s album, mixed in with mentions of equipment the other is saving up for. Then the rest isn’t about music at all.

Finally, it’s time for them to continue recording, so they know to head back inside. “Don’t wait,” Woosung advises as he turns on his heel. 

And Yoongi can only stare somewhere else. 

“If there’s something you need to get through...” 

Stare, and stare, and stare some more.

“Hit it until it breaks.”

Because he’s already aware. More than anyone.

As Woosung shuts the back door, Yoongi’s gaze finds the crushed cigarette at his side. Another reminder of how things were.

And a reminder that he’s still a fucking coward.

Hours later, Yoongi’s car awaits him in the lot. 

And when he realizes that you still haven’t responded, he shuts his door just a little too hard. 

Whenever his friend comes over for drinks, it’s always the same routine. 

Both of them don’t talk much, instead opting for a quiet greeting before someone dumps themselves on the couch while the other grabs a bottle and cups in the kitchen. As soon as glasses are filled, conversation sparks as a game plays out on tv—or a sportscasting show if nothing interesting is airing. 

But this time? None of it happens that way. Because when Yoongi opens his door, he’s pinned with a shadowed visage he's only seen piercing through others. 

And the whole arctic starts to seep into his bloodstream.

Raising a brow and giving space is his chosen course of action. Best to not disturb a beast if they’re already ready to lunge.

And his friend eyes him as he stalks into the house, scanning around in search of something—living room, dining table, even looking into the open doorway of the bedroom. 

Fuck. Relax. Don’t assume anything until things are on the table. Yoongi has got to pretend like tonight is normal and fine and that he’s obviously and positively not seeing and sleeping with his friend’s little sister. 

And that he most definitely didn’t eat you out where your brother is sitting now motherfucker he needs a drink. Or a smoke. Or both with a plane ticket out of the whole country. 

At least the television is already on. If it wasn’t for that ambiance, Yoongi’s head would be jam packed with every goddamn sound known to man. Including the adorable way you talk in your sleep, and how you strain so beautifully when you come fuck, fuck, fuck! Focus. 

What’s happened has happened. And what’s going to happen will happen. Whether it’s a consequence of his actions, or nothing to do with any of this at all. 

But when faced with everything smushing together at once? Yoongi will probably need to be revived no matter what the outcome. This is the most stressed out he’s been in years. 

Not only that, but his stress is more than obvious. Even now in the kitchen, he’s scanning through his bottles with a finger—an action he’s never done while sober since the choices are always predictable. Holy shit, he needs to pull it together. 

Has he ever been this panicked? Does he appear just as chaotic and disjointed as he feels? This is too new. This is very new and if he doesn’t regain control there’s no telling where this foreign road leads.

But the silence still remains as he turns. And apparently the road hits a dead end at his dining table. Since it’s occupied rather than the living room sofa. 

Sighing, Yoongi ambles to his friend, placing everything down with clinks and ignoring the way his furniture is getting burned through. Both whisky’s are ready. Yoongi’s already holding his. And your brother still hasn’t moved a muscle. Honestly, what the fuck is going on with—

“I went to Jimin’s last night.”

…What. 

Don’t react. He’s staring. Don’t fucking react. Take a drink. A sip. Pick up the goddamn glass. Doing so, Yoongi slowly brings the liquid to his lips, not quite following his own instructions as he asks behind a barrier, “How was it.”

His question is met with a laugh that isn’t funny at all. The kind that drags a finger along the chalkboard of your soul. And the next question directed his way pulverizes Yoongi’s denial,

“Care to share what’s been going on?”

He’s sick. Beyond sick. The room is closing in and closing in too fucking fast. Shit shit shit. There’s no way he saw. No fucking way. He parked down the street he deliberately stopped as far away as possible and you saw your brother’s car in your driveway. Did he get there after you left? And didn’t see you while also not hearing from hi—

“Why her, Yoong? Hmm?”

Fuck! 

Yoongi can’t feel the air in his lungs. Because there isn’t any. Just a barren wasteland of shriveled futures and cracks in the foundation of every relationship he’s had in his whole life. The millisecond before a crash and only his wheels spinning and spinning and spinning—

Your brother shoots out of the chair, making the glass in Yoongi’s palm feel infinitely more solid.

“I mean, fuck! After all the shit we’ve been through? You’re gonna go back to her?”

All the—shit, he can’t even—back to? Back to you? What does he mean by back to you? Does he know about the first ti—

Volcanic, the man interrogating paces beside the dining table. Back and forth, back and forth. A pause. Back and forth.

And Yoongi still feels frozen in time. Is this it? Is this when things come crashing down? Glass suspends in midair all around him; an orchestra trembles beneath his feet, waiting for the moment to rip into his rib cage with swift strokes and a flourish as he’s taken down. 

“Can’t fucking believe you.”

When Yoongi finally chooses to speak, what comes out only feels like a horrible attempt more than anything else, “Listen, it’s my fau—”

“What, you just decided to fuck that bitch again? Couldn’t stay away?”

Oh, fuck that. 

Wood scrapes into flooring as Yoongi vacates his chair, hard feet planted as he gets into the face of his best friend, his confidant, his day one. Only to speak so low only them two can hear, “How bout you use your fucking words already and I’ll tell you.”

“Yeah? Is that what you want?” They are only a breath apart. But no one’s going anywhere now. “Need me to spell it out for that fuckass brain of yours—”

“Say it—”

“Stop fucking your ex, dude!”

Yoongi’s back connects with the chair behind him, palms flinging back to brace himself through a jolt of pain. And his eyes go so wide they stretch at the edges.

…Motherfucker, what?

Your brother is not done in the slightest, but Yoongi can only stare as he’s being berated for something that is one-hundred percent news to him, too. 

“Everyone was happy when you finally left. All of us. Only for you to go and, what, get back with her?”

Nothing makes sense. This isn’t about you? Yoongi’s heart can’t even reset to start beating again. Everything is coming as shock after shock and there’s no way he can keep up at this pace.

His ex? Her? Where the fuck did that come from and why the hell does he of all people think that’s actually true?

“If you’re gonna be with her, you can count me out.” 

No. Never again. That would never, ever happen again. “The fuck are you even saying—”

“I’m not fucking joking, Yoong. If you’re seriously back with her then—”

“Look, I don’t know what the fuck you heard, but I’m not.”

“So everything I heard was a lie?”

“Huh?”

“He told me!”

He—who? Who the fuck would say that? And when how what the fuck and why? Yoongi stares, chest heaving with every inhale and exhale. Because he has a choice to make. Either he trudges into this lie and rubs sludge all over his bones, or he denies it like he wants because it’s not fucking true.

What the actual fuck. It’s already bad enough that someone sent this along the rumor mill. And it’s making him sick thinking about all the implications surrounding it. But it’s even worse that his best friend believes it so easily. He’s coming at him so quick without even asking if it’s true. 

The only silver lining—the singular bright spot in this hellhole—is that he can use it as an out. An out to protect you from wrath and further fury from your older sibling because if you were the rumor? He’d be laid flat on his floor next to a broken dining set.

“You gonna say anything or what?” 

Truthfully, Yoongi feels queasy knowing what he’s gonna do. But it’s for you. You, you, you. And for that, Yoongi will do anything. 

Even if it kills him.

“No, I, umm…” 

“No?” 

Just hurry up and fucking do it. 

Resigned, Yoongi lets the memories flood through. Every moment that’s haunted him from a distance charges forward as he surrenders to the pain of his past. “It’s—” Fuck, he can’t even begin to lie, head thundering, thundering, striking his heart in the rain. “I...” 

His friend halts. Tense before his shoulders fall back to normal. “You what.”

What the fuck does Yoongi do? What can he say when his brain is only firing up to beg him to run? Technically, he doesn’t have to say anything. He really doesn’t. But he can deflect. It’s what he’s best at, after all. He’s been doing it to you and he will do it again.

In the most defeated voice he can muster, Yoongi comes up with something that will placate his friend while still prolonging this horrid fib, “You don’t have to worry about that anymore.” 

“You sure?”

It’s true. More true than anything. “It’s over now.” 

A century passes. Then another. Then another. Every piece of furniture waits in silence as the television seeps back into his ears. 

Then his friend sighs, not looking back as he slumps into the same chair that you always occupy. And Yoongi hopes his sigh of conflicted relief isn’t witnessed. 

Following suit, he rubs his lower back before taking his regular seat again, not giving any shits about waiting to drink. 

His ex? 

As his throat warms, Yoongi starts to harden the more memories keep crashing into each other like jagged waves fuck he really hates how she was brought into this he swears as soon as he figures out who said this he is going to—

“Sorry.” Haze shattered, he lifts his gaze. “I’m so fucking stressed and hearing that last night just…”

“It’s done.” Yoongi reaches for the thick bottle, pouring more into his glencairn. Wanting to talk about literally anything else, he diverts the conversation, “But something else is up with you so say it.”

It works. The man inhales deep, rubbing his face with weary hands. When he rests elbows on wood, he finally talks about other things clouding his mind,

“Work is shit,” he groans downward. “They’re having me travel again.” 

“Domestic?”

“Yeah. But for longer. And I don’t…” Tapering off, he sits back, slowly playing with his glass. As if he doesn’t want to mention the next problem. 

When he finally does, Yoongi wholeheartedly understands the hesitation, “I dunno know what’s going on with my sister.”

Oh. Fuck, how the hell does he respond? Keeping his cool, Yoongi just repeats the question, taking out his phone and pretending to check his screen. “Your sister?”

“Yeah.” A sigh is sandwiched between explanations. “The past few months, I feel like.. They haven’t really been themselves.” 

A sudden crack splits him through.

“Not laughing. Not eating as much. Like even when they sound happy, I can tell it’s a front.. I don’t know.” 

The clunk of his phone hits the table very hard. 

No. No, no, no. Your texts have been so positive. So encouraging. Other than a few sad calls, you’ve been happy to hear from him just as he had been relieved to hear from you. Even in the car, you must’ve put your feelings lightly. 

Your wings. You’ve been enduring all that? For him? Yoongi’s heart rears its head, snagging one of his breaths and slamming both lungs into the floor.

And hatred paints his heart another shade darker.

“They finally went out last night, but. Didn’t come back until this morning.” Running rigid hands through his head, the man looks so pained. So helpless. “Same clothes, dude.” 

And Yoongi can only stare, feigning nonchalance but raging and tearing himself apart inside. “Mm.”

“I just… I know I suck at this, but. I don’t know what the hell to do. Or if I even do anything.” Your brother finally takes a swig, wincing at how much ethanol coats his tongue. 

Relax, relax, relax. As much as he wants to erupt on himself right now, Yoongi has to stay calm.

Not like he doesn’t know how. That’s usually how he operates, anyway. It’s hard to tell he’s struggling unless you look deep enough. And almost no one thinks to do so because his surface is all they want. 

But right now? He doesn’t think he can sequester this anger any longer. At him, his past, and his stupid present decisions. 

“Like I tried to say something but I just.. I felt like if I push too hard, they’re gonna shut down even more. Ever since that fight with Kook, it’s like..” 

Seeing an opening and keeping a neutral stance, Yoongi asks the most ironic question to date, “Are they seeing someone?”

At this, his friend shakes his head, eyes glued to dark amber liquid. When he answers, all the breaths in the world cut at once, 

“I think she feels all alone.” 

This hit is the strongest. Straight to the gut, breath stuttering and muscles clenching so hard they lock. It’s almost severe enough to affect how Yoongi feels around his eyes. 

“And it sucks not knowing what to do.”

Yoongi’s heart lurches, deflating and slipping out of the crack in his chest. Piercing on the jagged edges before slumping down onto a table that continues to judge him.  

You’re hurting. Your brother’s hurting. And it’s all his goddamn fault. Why can’t he just break free and admit shit? Why is he still haunted by the phantoms of his past? Why is he still so fucking weak? It’s clear that he hurt you. For months. You’ve been cheering for him that whole time while you’ve been visibly broken and it’s all because of his dumbass decision to—

“I’m heading out again.”

Yoongi raises his eyes. Because he can’t seem to move anything else. “When.”

Your older sibling takes a slower, more measured sip. Looking towards the channel playing in the living room, he answers, “After our game. Dinner Friday, game on Saturday, fly out Sunday.” 

“Mm. We’ll still be here,” Yoongi assures, keeping things as normal and neutral as he can. “Just like last time.”

How ironic. How hypocritical. He hasn’t been there for you in the slightest so how the fuck can he say that with a straight face. 

“Thanks. I know it’s a lot for y’all but..”

Not at all. Yoongi is more determined than ever to make everything up to you. It’s the least he can do after putting you through something he decided on the fly. 

On the run.

“Don’t worry about that,” he vows into his drink. Honestly, if you’ve been having second thoughts about this whole thing, he doesn’t blame you. Absolutely doesn’t blame you if you realize you’re better than this. But Yoongi’s at least gonna apologize in every single way he can. As soon as he possibly can. “We got it.” 

“K.” The man finishes his glass and goes to pour more. “Did I ever mention that she liked you?”

Now what— Coughing on whisky is a bitch and a half. Hitting his chest while both eyes squint from burn, Yoongi croaks out his exact thoughts, “What.”

At this, his friend finally breaks into his regular smile. Setting the bottle down with a hollow clunk, he points, “Don’t you fucking get any ideas. Jimin’s already on my shit list.” He scoffs out a laugh. “But it was obvious when we were younger.”

And Yoongi can only cough some more. He shakes his head through the sting, swallowing and trying to compose himself. He doesn’t know where the hell that came from, but he hopes your brother will understand when all is said and done. Even though he’s been the reason you’ve been so…

Yoongi almost fucking confesses.

“You’re a good person,” he blurts instead. Whether the guilt or last cough pushed it out, that’s still on the table. “You don’t suck at what you think you do.”

“You think so?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” 

The hell? Does this dude really not see how successful he is? How much he’s overcome and conquered and sacrificed? Truthfully, Yoongi wouldn’t be where he is today if not for your brother. Him. Jimin. You. Anybody. Which is what makes this ongoing betrayal… 

Unprecedented.  

“You’re the best out of all of us.” 

Your brother finally looks at him, though Yoongi isn’t doing the same. But he can still tell when a fist is held out for him to bump, so he does.

And they both share a drink in respectful silence. 

After a moment of them watching the tv, the man finally sighs. “Guess we did shape up pretty nice.” When he’s agreed with, he keeps going with a grin. “We were so fucking bad.”

Yoongi can only chuckle, much better memories fighting off the terrors. “Old me was a little shit.”

“You still are.”

“Says you!”

“I still am, too!”

Laughs precede big swigs of whisky and comfortable quiet. Bit by bit, shoulders start to relax with the surrounding air, and Yoongi lazily releases tension in his neck. 

After a few more pours, your brother decides to call it, using the bathroom before announcing that he’s gonna head out. Yoongi gets up from his chair to clasp hands goodbye, not expecting to hear one more plea,

“Break up with her, Yoong.” 

Shit. He sighs, and their conversation continues from the dining table to the front door. “It’s not like that.” 

“Yeah?” 

“It’s over now.” 

“For good?” As they stop beside the coat closet, your brother pins him with a look. “I was about to drive over and break down the door.”

Even though Yoongi shares a tsk with him, he can’t help but imagine what could’ve happened if that was the case. And it sends an unwanted jolt of chills. 

“Serious. I’m gonna keep saying this, but. she was just making you miserable, dude.” He slips on his shoes, smacking his foot on the ground to push one in place. “I’m sure it was good at first, but I mean… You gotta move on. You deserve better than that.” 

Anything would be better than that. Yoongi just disagrees with the whole deserving part. “I guess.” 

“You sure it’s over?”

“Yeah,” he assures, because that is something he intends to keep true forever. “It is.” 

“Good.” Keys jingling, your sibling then points into the open area with his whole arm, seven words leaving his mouth like ice, 

“Then get rid of that fucking guitar.” 

Ah. Among all the things. Of course he would bring that up, too. Jaw working, Yoongi looks away, now assaulted by all the torturous thoughts surrounding that painful reminder and fighting them off with no success. 

Get rid of it? He’s been trying. 

For three. Fucking. Months. 

“I might.” 

“…K.” 

And his best friend departs, leaving Yoongi inside and staring at the same black spot he’s kept in the corner for years. It has mocked him as he struggles. Laughed at him whenever he’s tried to throw it out. And aside from the times he’s made you feel better stinging himself on those strings, he has accomplished nothing except letting it win.

Pissed off and doused in guilt, Yoongi yanks himself away from the door, the instrument, and everything else except for his bed.

Keeping his shadow exactly where it stands. 

Yoongi knows he needs to talk to you.

But his phone exists somewhere on the other side of his bedroom door.

And he doesn’t have the strength to go get it. 

What time is it? 

All that greets him is darkness. 

Nothing new, but darkness all the same. 

Why was she mentioned? What does that mean? 

He needs to call you. He’s lying to his best friend. 

Her? You. His sheets still smell like you. 

Inhale. Breathe. Inhale. 

He needs to call you. But he’s so, so tired. 

And the darkness pulls him back under. 

Without even telling him the time. 

Buzzing. 

Faint, gentle buzzing softly lifts Yoongi’s eyelids before a loud series of smacks causes him to rush out of bed what the fuck? 

Oh. His phone fell outside. Fucking hell, his heart’s beating way too quick for that to be the only thing that happened. 

Head in his hands, Yoongi sighs deep before making his way to the dining table. And it takes all of his strength to bend down to reach for his phone. 

Hustler: Missed Calls (6)

Dumbass: 1 Message

Hustler: 3 Messages 

Chim: 7 Messages   

Chim: Missed Calls (3) 

Holy fuck. 

With only the light of his phone illuminating the dark, Yoongi rings Jimin up. His heart’s a little disappointed it wasn’t you calling just now, but it’s probably best to stay away while his brain is so scattered and torn. 

“Oh, fuck. There you are.” 

“Mm.” 

“Don’t scare me like that, bro. I was starting to get ready to drive over—” 

“It’s fine,” he juts in. “What’s up.” 

Alright, maybe he shouldn’t be an asshole. There’s no reason to let his lingering shadow from earlier control his temper now. Jimin’s just being himself, for fuck’s sake. 

“I, umm. I wanted to tell you I’m sorry.” 

Now that’s not what Yoongi expected at all. “For what?” 

There’s another pause on the line, and his reaction is immediate when he knows for a fact Jimin is fighting back tears. 

“I… I got so drunk last night, I—And I—”

Shit. A sinking feeling starts to weigh Yoongi down, his center pulling the rest of him in like a black hole. And he doesn’t need to hear the rest of this to know what this call is about. 

“He was looking for her, Yoong, and you weren’t there, either. He had this look, I—I couldn’t think of anything else to say in the moment and I told him—”

Jimin can’t even finish his confession. And it hits right in the gut. 

Despite his perceived persona, Yoongi doesn’t like hearing people cry. At least, if they don’t deserve to or don’t deserve to be sad—or if they’re you. He could care less about the rest.

But Jimin is one of the only people that can get him like this: eyes stinging at their edges and his chest concave. In the dark, though, no one can tell. No one can see him.

So he can openly swipe at his eyes before dumping tired limbs into a chair, catching his forehead in a damp palm. 

“I’m an idiot. I’m sorry.” 

Exhaling through his nose, Yoongi tries his best to calm his emotions. Because they are still raging and it’s going to take all of him to quell this tempest. 

Jimin knows more than anyone what this means to him. To you. The time you spent apart? If it wasn’t for his friend, Yoongi may have been in a much different position. If this was the only thing Park could do, then his effort has to be acknowledged. It worked like a fucking charm.

But goddamn, Yoongi wishes Jimin thought of literally anything else. He could’ve made up some random, some fling from another city, the damn studio itself. 

“Don’t worry about it,” he finally rasps out. “It’s just been a fuckin’ day.” 

Jimin sniffles before cursing at himself and, judging by the sounds on the line, Yoongi figures he’s opening his fridge. If he reaches for soju, that would not be surprising in the least, and now that sounds like a good idea.

“Same. Gah, I just… I should’ve warned you. I didn’t know he went over there.” 

“He told you?” 

“I called him after you didn’t answer earlier.” 

“Oh. Yeah, I passed out after he left.” 

“Ah.” 

Something shuts before there’s a crisp clink on the line, validating exactly what Yoongi was thinking. 

“I really am sorry. What did you end up saying?” 

“That it’s done.” 

A hum. 

“That’s very true.” 

There’s a question that Yoongi thinks to ask. Context that he needs. But as important as this information is, Yoongi doesn’t feel like talking about it right now. Or ever. But now still counts. So he switches the conversation over to something less daunting, “Practice still on tomorrow?” 

When Jimin laughs out of surprise, it gives Yoongi the smallest kick of energy.

“Ah, someone actually ready to go for once?” 

“Yeah. The plan is to make this game quick.” 

A hearty swallow spills out of the speaker before a hum follows, 

“Mm, that reminds me. Got something that might help with that.” 

What the hell does that even mean? “Huh?” 

“I’ll bring it over tomorrow. You might find some good uses for it.”

Yoongi rubs the grogginess still clinging to his face. “All these years and you’ve never given me a straight answer.” 

“Where’s the fun in that?” 

“Knowing the answer.” 

At least Jimin’s back in a good mood. Or a better state than puffy-eyed and regretful. He doesn’t have to share the pain in this, too. It was an honest mistake. 

“You’ll know it when you see it.” 

“Annoying.”

“Love you, too!” 

Yoongi’s huff billows through his nose, and Jimin’s energy almost brings enough strength for him to clear the table. 

Ehh. He’ll leave it alone. He’s been pretty good at that lately, too, no matter how early or late it is in the night. What time even is it? Checking his phone, Yoongi’s brows crease when he figures that out. Why the hell are they even on a call right now? “Wait, is it really three?” 

“Huh? Yeah. I’m telling you, dude, I was getting worried.” 

He was really about to drive over? “Sorry. I really did just pass out.” 

“Mm. Well, I’m gonna go do that now.” 

“K. Same time tomorrow?” 

“Ah, a little earlier. Just so I can give this to you before everyone else shows.” 

That just makes Yoongi infinitely more curious. “Seriously, what did you get?” 

“Relax! You will like it.” 

“Chim, I swear—”

“You’ll thank me later bye!”

As soon as Jimin disappears from the line, Yoongi is left alone again.

Exactly where he always ends up. 

Exactly where he doesn’t want to be. 

But now that he’s done dealing with those notifications, Yoongi roams lidded eyes over his screen again. 

Wait. You called him six times? Fuck. What did you text? Were you wondering where he was, too? 

Hustler [20:01]: HOLY FUCK!! my phone died after i tried calling you this morning and i just fully woke up to charge it😭 he’s not home so call whenever  

Yoongi clutches his phone a little tighter. 

He very much would’ve rather been in your bed with you all day. 

That sounds like fucking bliss. 

Hustler [23:37]: tried calling but he’s home now. are you ok?? idk what’s going on with him but i think we need to be careful

Shit, Yoongi didn’t get to tell you. You’ve probably been worried about that every second you’ve been awake today. 

And he couldn’t even make it out of his goddamn room to help. 

All he comes with is worries for you. What kind of shit is this? What is he even doing? He even outright told you that you were dating only for that to be ripped from your hands for months. Why are you still giving someone like him a chance? 

Hustler [23:40]: but all i wanna do is see you

Fucking hell.

Nothing in the world can stop his heartbeat quite like you can. With that smile, or those eyes, or the simple shit like this. Not even lightning can strike him the same way. 

Despite the consistency Yoongi has with admitting his own shortcomings, and despite the way he keeps reminding himself he doesn’t deserve you…

All he wants to do is see you, too. 

You’ve been more than he ever would’ve imagined—your consideration, your intellect, your mind. And there have been times when you’d look at him as if he was the center of your galaxy. 

After all this time. All these days and nights. 

You still don’t realize that he was destined to orbit you.  

It’s been decided long before his mind was made up—at least, the part of him that doesn’t traverse the dark side. His heart had been tugging him to you ever since that rainy day, no matter where he’s drifted or which direction he’s gone in. All of them lead back into your arms. 

But just like the feeling he gets walking into the recording booth, imposter syndrome eats him alive and doubt scavenges on what’s left. 

He will never be good enough for you. One of these days, you will realize that you don’t have to settle for him. It’s good now, but you’ll only give him so many chances, which he is swiftly running through at breakneck speeds. 

How fucking stupid. Having these thoughts while wanting nothing more than to hear your voice. 

Just like everyone else, you’ll eventually be done passing through. His winter will return after your inevitable departure, all the warmth you give focused on something else that deserves it more. 

Something that isn’t broken. 

Yoongi whips his head up at the sound of buzzing, noticing thin lines of light beneath his phone on the table. 

What. No way. 

From the rapid beats inside his chest, he shoots his hopes right into the dark. 

And they burst into beautiful sparks when he reads his screen. 

Hustler: Incoming Call 

But just like the streaks of color he witnessed with you on that balcony, his brightness is short lived. Because as soon as Yoongi answers, the way your throat constricts scorches his windpipe through.

And the first thing you attempt to get through makes his eyes shut tight. 

“Are we… is this over?” 

Fuck.

“I get it, if we are. If you—if you don’t wanna do this with me anymore.” 

Fuck. Fuck everything this is not happening right now. “Hold up,” Yoongi breathes, body on full alert. “What’s going on?” 

“I thought… When you weren’t picking up, I—”

“Breathe, babe,” Yoongi softens, hating, hating, hating himself all over again. “I passed out before you called. That’s it.” 

“Oh. Shit, I really thought—”

“You would know,” he whooshes, syllables squeezed out by the mountain of regret on his back. After hearing what he put you through? Hearing how you sound now? There’s no way he can do that shit again. No more disappearing from the grid because he can’t fight himself. “You would know if I was done.” 

Your sniffle sinks the ship with his heart inside. 

“Are you? With me?” 

Yoongi folds, fingers digging through his hair and blocking it in hard chunks. The amount of things he wants to say to you could wrap the whole world before repeating. But he settles with a truth he can say out loud, 

“No way in hell, doll.” 

Please. Don’t cry. Because he can only handle feeling his eyes sting so much in one night. There’s only so much he can take before he’s grabbing his keys and speeding over—friends and brothers be damned. 

“Okay… I’m just. It’s been a day.” 

That’s okay. 

Because he’s had a day, too. 

“I don’t wanna bother you with it, though, it’s so late.” 

Please keep going. 

Please don’t leave him alone. 

“Talk to me.” 

Like a gentle stream, your recap—though not ideal—washes away the weariness from Yoongi’s eyes. Lifts the weight he bears on his shoulders, even if just a little bit. 

You’re so good at that. 

“Well. Umm. He saw me coming home this morning. And, umm. It was weird. I don’t know why but I think we have to be really careful. And ugh, it—. It sucks because he’s going on a trip soon and I don’t wanna stress him out even more but I—” 

Shit, you’ve probably been holding all of this in ever since you got up. You don’t know that your brother believes something entirely different. But of course you’d be considerate, even now. That’s just who you are.

“I, umm. I feel so fucking bad about it but I don’t wanna mess him up right now. Or maybe he knows but just won’t say it? Fuck, sorry, I’m trying not—to—”  

The phone goes mute, and Yoongi’s head suddenly weighs ten times heavier. 

“He doesn’t know, babe,” he soothes, hating how he can’t be there to comfort you with more than his word and waves in the sky. 

If he was stronger, things could be different by now. Vastly different. Vastly better. You would cry less, he knows that for damn sure. Weak, weak, weak. That’s all he fucking is. 

The only one he seems to be strong for is you. “He came over earlier.” 

“Fuck, really?” 

“Yeah.” 

You pause, seemingly to roll this information around that beautiful mouth of yours, and Yoongi has the strongest yearning to kiss all your worries right out of it. 

“What did he say?” 

Shit. You’ll just have to forgive him later. Because Yoongi chooses not to tell the whole truth. You don’t need to bear the same worries as him, anyway. They aren’t yours. He will shoulder all of those on his own. Because he’s the reason for them in the first place. “Nothing about us.” 

“Oh, thank fuck.” 

Good. Your relief is all that matters. But Yoongi still feels bad for not being able to pick himself up. You could’ve known that a lot sooner if he was stronger. If he was better. “So don’t worry, doll.” 

“Okay. What about you? Are you okay?” 

Huh? Your questions catch him completely off-guard. It’s almost comical how his first reaction goes straight to a No. But sticking to his earlier stances, he won’t bother you with any of that. There is a truth that he can admit. One that’s always true and will continue to be so. “Just wanna see you.” 

And this is when his eyes slowly shut. Don’t. Don’t cry.

“Me, too, baby.” 

Hearing that? Chipped and broken from your lips? That is another thing Yoongi can’t handle. His heart beats once before it free falls, and he clutches his phone just a little tighter. 

Fuck everything. He’s gonna find a way to do this. All of it.

“I’ll figure it out.”

“You will?”

He’ll figure out how to move mountains to make it up to both you and your brother. 

“Just a little longer.”

He has to.

“Okay.”

Neither of you deserve this. And he doesn’t deserve either of you. Truly, the only thing he deserves is to be alone. And judging by the way things are going, it’s only a matter of time before you start resenting this behavior and leave, too. 

“Thank you.”

What? Something in Yoongi flickers, and he lifts his whole head to eye his screen. 

“For putting up with me.”

Oh. Of course you’d assume you’re the issue. Seems like you need the same type of assurance that he does. Both of you the same? Who would’ve thought his bruised soul would sync up with a perfect one like yours. 

At this, he holds his breath before chuckling soft. “This has been the highlight of my day, doll,” he admits, finally breaking into a tiny smile and sitting back.

“Really?”

Wait. There was another good part of his day. But he wants to save that for when he can tell you in person. “One of them. But you’ll hear about the other one later.”

“Boo.”

Cute. Wait, isn’t it absurdly late? You have to be up for work in mere hours. It’s a miracle you reached out when you did. “Don’t you have to be up soon?”

“A ha… Yeah.” 

“What are you still talking to me for?” 

“I miss you.” 

Well. That’s not something that he expected. And your admittance being so immediate actually sends shivers down his arms. 

Yoongi can only laugh to himself. He knew he had it bad, but this feeling is something else. “Don’t do that.” 

“Don’t do what? Miss you? Yeah, right.”  

God. You’re getting too fucking good at this. He’s gotta fight back or else his throne will be taken before he even sees you again. “Just a bad night to say it, doll.” 

“Why?” 

Perfect. “Cus I’m willing to get in the car.” 

“Fuck.” 

Yoongi happily lets his mouth slant when you groan, chuckling into the receiver and getting up to clear the table. When he flicks on the kitchen light, he doubles down, “Wanna try again?” 

He knows you’re gonna say no. Even though your brother doesn’t know, it’s definitely not a proper time to sneak you out—as much as he fucking wants to. Fuck, to be the one sneaking you out of your house… Maybe there’s another version of you both out there that’s done it. A version of him watching a version of you creeping out to his car, face shining in nightfall and etching a permanent smile into his heart.

“I hate you.” 

Yoongi should’ve expected that. The sudden laugh that flings out into his liquor cabinet ricochets off multiple bottles, and he shuts it while sporting a wide grin. “That’s better.” 

“Ha ha.” 

You’re smiling, too. Cute ass. Just the fact that he knows makes him excited for the future, and he’s determined to make it count. Make it worth it. You deserve every goddamn apology he can give. “I miss you, too, babe,” he whispers, grabbing the glasses from the table to wash in his sink. 

“Nu uh! You hate me, too.” 

Wait. Did you…

Did you just pout? 

Hell no, that’s outright cheating. That’s when Yoongi will never be able to win. Putting the phone down, he promptly states his new plan into a basin, “Nah, I’m going to sleep.” 

“Wait, huh? Why!” 

“Nothing.” 

“I swear to god—” 

“Nothing at all,” Yoongi lies, voice straight as he can muster while hot water runs over his hands. It’s a good kind of sting as his chilled skin adjusts, and he cleans one glass before he hears you ask in his ear, 

“Getting ready for bed? Or are you in the kitchen?” 

The smallest smile graces his face. “Guess.” 

“Kitchen.” 

The hell? “How’d you know?” 

“You’re always in there.” 

Can’t deny that. The glasses are both set to dry in the dishwasher as Yoongi’s amusement dies down, and his next comment flows out before he can think much of it, “You like to keep me in here.” 

“It does seem to be where we end up, huh?” 

“It does.” Which is fine by him. He’ll never forget all the times you’ve been in here. Your laughter and your storms, he will remember them all. 

“The world said let them cook.” 

Your giggles will be the fucking end of him one day. Fuck, he can’t wait to see you. He may even find a way to see you before the game. 

But for now, Yoongi will figure out how to talk to you, every day, no matter what. Texts, calls, whatever the fuck. The effort has got to show from now on. No more of this dark headspace shit. He needs to try harder and figure it out faster. For you. 

“Go to sleep, doll,” he huffs with full cheeks. 

After another adorable batch of sounds, you rustle on the line before sighing, 

“You better sleep, too.”

“I will.” 

With a blink, Yoongi notices two things. One, he just cleared his table and cleaned up without even thinking. And two, despite feeling like absolute shit the entire day and dreading the coming of night, falling asleep won’t be an issue. 

Because of you. It’s always you. 

Maybe there’s a way out. Maybe he can finally face it all and come out on the other side. “Talk to you tomorrow, babe.”

“I’d like that. And you’re sure he doesn’t know?”

Just like that, the demons are knocking again. Closing his eyes, Yoongi murmurs into the receiver, “I’m sure.” 

There will come a time when he will tell you. But that will be way in the future, when he is ready. For now, you’ll just have to trust that he’s telling the truth. Not the whole truth, but enough for it to calm your nerves. 

“Okay. Good night, baby.”

One more heartbeat to get him through the night. 

“Night, doll.”

When the phone cuts, Yoongi’s hand falls, his stare shifting straight to the living room. 

Right towards the corner that stares back. 

It’s been five days.

But it feels like you’ve aged twenty-eight years.

Ever since your brother confronted you—after your much needed reunion with his best friend—you’ve been floating through time. Lost. Confused. Wondering why that conversation went the way it did and gnawing at your sanity bit by bit. 

And even though Yoongi explicitly told you he didn’t say anything concerning your relationship, you still haven’t shaken that feeling. No matter where you are, who you’re with, or on a pretty Friday like this one, you feel… Strange. 

When you saw your brother waiting, you for sure thought you were gonna get grilled. It was a given you were gonna break as soon as he started asking deeper and more specific questions. The fallout was gonna happen in your own house right at your door. 

…So what in the fuck was that?

You shift your legs, the chill of the office failing to comfort you in your manufactured, building distress. 

Somehow, that version of the conversation proved much, much worse. Because now you’re spiraling trying to figure out why he just took your lie as the truth. Truthfully, you feel nauseous. And as much as you need to get some semblance of closure, you still feel hesitant. Because if he’s just biding time? He’s not just thinking about what to do with you. 

He’s thinking about what to do with Yoongi, too. 

This is so hard. 

The only thing—the only thing—keeping you grounded. Is Yoongi himself. 

Ever since the call you never thought he’d answer, you’ve been contacted every night. What was once days of radio silence quickly shifted to him reaching out however he could, hours of the day be damned. Just last night, in fact, Yoongi sent you texts at four in the morning, and you beam just thinking about what he said so casually.  

Yoongi [3:57am]: That keyboard I told you about is fucking dope. Just got it today and it won’t let me sleep lmaooo

Yoongi [3:58am]: I was gonna say sorry for texting but fuck it you’re getting all the updates :) 

No matter what it is, be it a text, call, or video chat, Yoongi seems fully committed and in the moment. Present. And it’s been… Really nice. If you didn’t have your brother’s shadow hovering over your brain, life would be practically perfect. 

Forcing yourself to actually work, you manage to get some small things done. Even the meeting you attend goes smoothly and you leave any outside worries on the other side of those glass walls.

So when you get back to your desk, an awaiting paper bag makes you pause. And your whole body prepares to weep.

Only one person has ever sent you food while you’re at work. And staring inside the parcel, you would’ve been able to tell who it was from even if said person had never sent any before.

There’s a small note on top of a to-go container—one that you immediately recognize as that super good restaurant next to Jungkook’s studio. 

What the hell? How did Yoongi know you wanted some this whole week but didn’t wanna risk being so close? With careful fingers, you pluck the tiny paper from the bag, opening it with care before your eyes get so teary eyed you can’t even read.

Tonight.  

This man.

I got the next one.

This wonderful, charming man. 

But you’re getting what I need so here’s the list:

Goddamn it, Min Yoongi. 

Seeing an actual list of food squeezes a laugh through your throat in a squeak, tears rushing out of your ducts before they’re hastily swiped. 

After five days. Yoongi really just sent you on a grocery run to surprise you with another meetup.

The gesture is so him that you cannot help but shake your head, ruefully huffing to no one and pocketing the note in your bag. And all your worries scatter even further. 

A dinner before the big game is risky, for sure, but at this point you couldn’t care less. Your brother has his own work outing tonight, anyway, and you are dead set on breaking all of this to him soon.

Even though you are very much unprepared. And he is going to lose his fucking mind if he doesn’t know already. Fuck.

You’ve had all five days to think it over. All the possible combinations and possibilities and outcomes. Some of them are extreme, some of them are hopeful. But for a majority of these projections, you have a feeling that none of you are gonna leave it without wounds. 

And you don’t know how you’re gonna save both of them if theirs are cut too deep. 

Regardless, that’s in the future. Not now. Right now, you are staying in the present and working like molasses until you can jet out the door, nary a care nor concern weighing on your heels.

Tonight. He’s gonna cook for you?

You’ll have the first substantial meal you’ve had in months.

Even though you want nothing more than to see Yoongi, your nerves are still buzzing and bumping into each other nonstop. There’s a lot you still need to know. Like why he was radio silent for months, and why your brother has been a little weird this whole week. 

Save it for later. Hopefully Yoongi will tell you why eventually. Or that gap will stay elusive to your brain forever.

Sliding into your car, you dump your bag in the passenger seat before pulling out the list, clutching it close and taking a leap that could either calm your nerves or spike them. 

Yoongi: Outgoing Call 

When he picks up, you legitimately don’t answer. Because even after all this time, you still can’t quite function when you hear that deep voice addressing you directly. 

“Hey.” 

All you have to do is say something. Anything. You could rattle off the damn list, stumbling over all the syllables just like they’re currently smushed together in your fingers. 

But you don’t snap out of this trance until he speaks again. 

“Hello?” 

“Hi,” you squeak out, clearing your throat while watching other people walk to their cars. “Hi, sorry. I just umm.” 

You just what? Somehow lost all sense of language just from him saying hi? Get it together. Stop that racket in your stomach and say what you were gonna say. “Thank you for the food. I’m off work now so I’m heading to the store.” 

He simply huffs a quiet laugh.

“Get whatever you want, too. Just let me know how much it is.” 

Huh. Did Yoongi just say all those words in that order? If you heard him right, forget the damn food. You’re close to speeding directly to his place and breaking down the motherfucking door. “Oh, I definitely will,” you respond with instead of hauling ass, the words pushing through your lingering smile. “And don’t worry about that, I got it.” 

“You sure?” 

“Yeah! I got big girl money now.” 

Yoongi laughs again on the line, fuller and closer this time. Are you on speaker? 

“It’s like that? Maybe I should work there, too.” 

“Oh, you’d hate it,” you giggle, scheming hard in your head for tonight already. Pretty bubbles in your ribs lift all your spirits. “I’m actually pretty bossy here.”

The groan that seeps through your car should be illegal. 

“That is literally what I’ve been wanting to see.” 

It’s your turn to chuckle as you finally make your way out of the parking lot, heading right to the market that you know for a fact has all of what he’s asking for. “I’m only that way at work, though.” 

“Do better.” 

Your immediate response makes his laugh crunchy in the speakers, and you go along with him because life is good. Life is fucking great right now. “Never mind, you’re paying. And I’m getting stuff for dessert now, too.” 

“What? Who said anything about dessert?” 

“Me,” you huff out in pride. Since he wants to see that demanding side come out so bad. With a fleeting thought, you think about what it could be like if you end up confident enough to— 

“I’m starting to regret this.”

“Regret what?”

“Everything.”

Liar! Your cheeks hurt as you look both ways before making a turn. “Can’t fool me. You’re excited.”

“I am.”

The way there was no hesitation sends shivers up your spine. But it’s partly because you thought you’d be faced with another joke or dig. Not a sudden one-eighty. Stopping at a light, you clear your throat before shyness puffs right out of it. “Well, good,” you state while checking your mirrors. “Cus I am, too.” 

“That’s a given, though.”

“Excuse you.”

Yoongi laughs before you hear the sound of cabinets, and you wonder which ones he could be touching. 

“Mm, babe. One more thing.” 

Can he stop making your heart beat two times at once? “Hmm?”

There’s a little bit of pause, followed by the clank of a pan on metal. When you hear another hum, you wonder what he could possibly—

“I think we’re out of condoms.” 

Who is out of what. If you weren’t still at a red, your foot would’ve slammed on the gas because what the fuck! All you can manage out are sounds without substance, random syllables, gibberish. Nothing is computing in your head. 

“Wait. Or are we?”

Okay, Yoongi needs to stop with that two-letter word before your behavior turns downright criminal. With as much seriousness as you can manage, you accuse, “Are you just fucking with me?”

And his response launches you forward just as the light turns green, 

“Yeah. That’s why we’re out of—”

“Alright!” you cut in, stopping stopping stopping him because for whatever reason, this conversation is too much. Despite seeing this very man naked in many, many ways, just having this talk with him is making you shier than ever before. “Guess I’ll, umm. Get those, too.”

“Nah, you don’t have to.”

“Oh. Found some?”

“No.”

Wait. If he didn’t find some why is he telling you that you don’t have to— “Oh,” you peep in realization. A very sudden, jaw dropping realization. “Goddamn it, you’re too distracting now, bye.”

And he finally breaks with laughter that’s contagious as hell. Which isn’t fair when you’re pretending to be upset with him. Even when you can’t see Yoongi, you can imagine the way his cheeks rise and his eyes crease. The way the whole room illuminates when he’s packed with happiness. 

And you want that to be the case forever. 

“You’re just lucky I’m not there with you.” 

“Yeah, you’d be annoying as hell.” 

“Damn!” 

As the market comes into view, your teeth shine as you grin, roasting this man quickly becoming one of your favorite pastimes. 

“To be fair,” you start to amend, fingers drumming on the wheel as you decide whether or not to say what you want. After deciding that there’s no wrong answer here, you softly admit, “I really do wanna get groceries with you.” 

There’s no words that come out in response. Only the slight movements of shuffling and water running and what could be more cabinets closing. But you don’t really know for sure—

“It’s gonna happen, doll.” 

You clutch the wheel.

“Cus I want that, too.”

One of these days you’re gonna see this damn cat again. 

Foot connecting with Yoongi’s door, you grunt as multiple bags burden your limbs, pride digging divots along your arms—second trips be damned. 

It doesn’t take long for him to let you in anyway, and you swoon at the way he doesn’t even ask while taking some of your baggage. But the kiss on your cheek makes your heart bang into everything between the front door and the kitchen. It’s so distracting that you barely smell the spices greeting you, too. 

“Thanks for getting all this,” Yoongi says as you both cross onto tile.  

“Of course.” Lifting the much lighter load that you have, you revel in the small thumps and thuds on his counter. Not really knowing why. “Let’s put this up before I yell at you.”

His laugh comes out in hisses while you both start reaching into bags. “For what!” 

“Sent me everywhere to find some of this shit.” 

“You could’ve asked somebody.” 

Feeling a bit silly and high off his presence already, you repeat his words in a goofy mocking tone, and the way he blows out air sends your belly fluttering. 

And just like that, things are back to normal again. No worries about your sibling, or work, or anything else looming by the door. Inside is what matters, and the whole apartment fills with jabs and jokes as groceries find their homes.

But Yoongi finds a bag you had separated from the rest, and you snap your mouth shut when he looks inside, something rising in your core when he turns to you with an eyebrow raised. And a smirk so salacious it makes you quiver. 

“What about it,” you squeak out, crumbling when he simply takes the bag and flings it through his bedroom door. “You said you—we were out, so…” 

“That’s a big box, doll,” he points out on his way to your tightly bitten lip. Mouth slicing through your sanity, he approaches you with a glint in his eyes. “Got something you wanna say?” 

“Nope,” you whoosh out oh god he looks way too hot in those sweats wait is that a growing bulge? “Although I will say it took me forever to pick out what—”

Sparks ignite your hands when your lips are claimed, launching them into his shirt and tugging him backward because you’ve been waiting way too long to kiss the shit out of him. 

And Yoongi responds in kind, pinning you to his fridge and so, very obvious that he’s been waiting for this, too. 

Heaven probably wonders how to replicate this feeling. How to imitate this treasured yearning that only he can pull from the depths of your ocean. Deep, deeper, deepest. All these kisses. Your ascending affection. 

“As much as I wanna throw you on my bed,” Yoongi jokes, pulling away and giving your cheek a light tap. “I’m taking you somewhere.” 

And you’re so thrown from the impact that your brain mini-resets. “Huh? We’re leaving?”

“Uh huh.”

Hold on. Wait. Is this what he meant when he said he’s getting the next one? You’re going out to eat? Together? No. No, there’s no way. Yoongi knows that’s the worst possible thing to do right now, as much as the idea is sending your belly in a frenzy. “Are you sure? What about dinner? Won’t people… You know.”

“It’s ready already,” he reveals. “By the door.” 

Your head snaps to where he points out, even though you can’t see through the bar. “Really?” No wonder it smells like a cooking aftermath. All those smells twirling around your head. How did you not even catch the dishes in the sink? 

But hold up, you just bought a shit ton of food! “Then what the hell was the run for?”

Yoongi blinks. Then he does it again. Expression stone still, he responds as if you were privy to his plans this entire time, “I told you to get what I needed.” 

Your turn to blink.

“And I needed food.”

This man is going to be the death of you. Affronted, your jaw hangs before you grit through a smile that betrays you, “Oh, you—” 

“So thanks,” he quips through another tilt of his lips. “Let’s go, doll.” 

The begrudged sound that leaves you makes him kick his head back on the way out the kitchen. 

“Eat.”

The container on your thighs warms you through. “Now?”

“Mm.”

“I can wait,” you assure, watching as night paints the surrounding scenery in navy and black. “We can eat together.” 

“Just a bite then.” 

Turning to Yoongi, you don’t see a change in his face as he eyes the road. The veins in his arm catch all the streetlight, and you gulp before your gaze falls to what he made. Music fills the car, and you decide that maybe you do feel a little hungry. So you listen to instruction, popping it open and being careful as you pluck a piece to try. 

There’s no denying it. This motherfucker is a chef. “Fuck, this is good.” 

Your borderline moan sends Yoongi’s shoulders bobbing, and you will never get over those low, gravelly laughs. “Sorry.” Your hand hovers over your mouth in embarrassment. “I don’t react like that unless I’m alone.”

“I don’t mind.”

“Yeah, well,” you swallow. “Course you don’t.”

A tiny peek of teeth show as Yoongi smiles, and you don’t expect what he offers next, “Just be you, doll. It’s just me.”

The next bite of food pauses on the way to your mouth. “Oh,” you murmur. “Same for you then.”

“Nah.”

“Why not?”

“Cus we wouldn’t make it to where we’re going.”

That was legitimately the worst time to put food in your mouth. Sputtering, your words come out low and chortled, “You fucker.”

His hisses are brief before he dips into silence again. As he slowly turns the wheel, you can see a glimpse of something deep in his eyes. “I’m sorry,” he suddenly apologizes, swallowing as you keep your gaze. 

What is that look? Weren’t you both just having a good time? “For what, baby?” 

“Everything.” 

Your lungs flinch. This is definitely not what you expected to hear on the way to wherever the hell you’re going. “Oh.” 

Yoongi still doesn’t look your way, and with each pass of a light over his face, you catch quick snapshots of those eyes you’re still so shy of. “I, umm. I didn’t expect shit to pan out this way.” 

“It’s okay,” you whisper. 

After a slow motion of disagreement, his head falls forward just a bit. And your eyes find his hand clutching the gear shift in what you sadly think is frustration. “I’ve just thought about some things,” he starts, another song playing. “How worried you must’ve been.” 

You look forward. Because this is the part where you can’t face him. “I was. But not for the same reason as last time.” Without a hesitation of your own, your palm reaches between your seats. And you can tell Yoongi watches as you take his hand to hold. 

“I was worried about you,” you correct with softness. “It was hard because I didn’t know what to do.” Don’t fucking cry. You filled quite a few buckets already. “When you started not really saying much, I just… Hoped it was for a good reason, so. Yeah.” 

You feel your hand gently pulled, which is already enough to make you melt. But when it’s kissed, you don’t know what the hell to fucking do. 

“I’m sorry, doll,” Yoongi whispers into your skin, lips brushing with every syllable and painting a canvas of his reconcile. “I won’t leave you hanging like that again.” 

There’s a tiny fire in the back of your throat, the embers reaching your eyes just a little too aggressively. You attempt to squash the growing flames before they flare. “Oh. Umm. Thank you.” What else do you say? Yoongi’s being wonderful, but why do you feel… sad? Why is there lingering snow on your windowsill? “Were you worried?” 

“Me? Umm.” He stops at a light that he clearly didn’t want to stop at. Resting your conjoined hands on his pliant thigh, his jaw works as he observes them.

And you wonder if he thinks they slot together perfectly, too. 

“…Yeah.” 

Fuck. “About what?” 

“That you’d hate me.” 

Your heart meshes his fingers with yours. “Yoongi.” 

“Or that you shouldn’t be with someone that’s gone this much.” 

Fuck, he’s doing it again. Regressing. You’ve seen it happen in his kitchen and you’ll be damned if all that work, all that peeling, all that resolution amounted to nothing wait, wait, stop. This isn’t gonna be an overnight fix. And you have no clue what’s been happening, so just keep trying, trying, trying. 

“I’m used to people leaving,” you joke, but not really. “Like seasons.” 

He whips his head to you, and you backpedal because that probably sounded so random. You’ve got to think about filtering your thoughts a little more now that you’re getting comfortable. Yoongi says you can be yourself, sure, but you have to admit your quirks are a little out there. “I know it’s weird, but..” 

He’s quiet as the light turns green. And when you don’t finish, he admits, “I think the same.” 

“You do?” 

Your hand is brushed as a hum peppers it from above. “Mmhmm.” 

“Well.” That’s interesting. You didn’t know anyone thought about that stuff like you did. Now you wonder if there’s anywhere else your wavelengths sync, and if they’ve been syncing up all this time. “At least you come back.” 

Yoongi squeezes your hand tight before he holds it against his lips. Again. Fuck, this is a lot. You’re so wrapped up in his gesture that you don’t catch what he whispers. 

“Hmm?” 

He glances at the center console before putting your hand back on his thigh. 

“Always, doll.” 

And the fire you stepped on rages back with a vengeance. Heat and sting surrounds your eyes, and you don’t hide how you press your feelings into his skin. “Me, too.” 

If you weren’t lost in the surrounding scenery outside, you would have caught Yoongi’s look. But all you feel is his hand clutching you tight, and it breaks you down all the same. 

The rest of the drive is spent with him telling you to eat more, and a bunch of your sing-alongs to almost every song that comes on. It seems like the tiny bit of closure opened you both up, and you don’t even realize that you’ve been on the road for a really long time. 

But finally, Yoongi pulls up to a building, and you’re haphazardly rapping along to a song before you notice. Wait. What? He drove you to a rec center? 

Your fingers curl around his forearm before you even notice. “What’s this?” 

“Where we’re going.”

Hold on, you’re going inside? “Are we even allowed to be here?”

When Yoongi responds, his teeth make you shiver as he smirks. “Can’t say for sure, no.”

“Then why—”

He unlocks before you can finish, and you’re left in an empty car until he rounds the hood, coming over to your side and opening the door. You almost don’t hear what he says next, too focused on the jewelry swinging from his neck as he bends forward. 

But you catch it, and glance once more at the sight in front of you before biting your lip—in nervousness or excitement, you can’t decide.

“You comin’?”

Damn. Obviously, you want nothing more than to see him here. And it’s much too late for anyone to be around. But if something happens… Whatever. 

Your mouth finally unsticks. “If we get caught, you’re gonna pay for this.”

And you can’t resist his stupid grin. “Now get your pretty ass out before I put you in the back.” 

“Yoongi!”

Grinning, he leads you out, and you follow him to the trunk. After bouncing his stowed ball a couple times, he decides to lean in and reach for something else. 

Wait. Is that what you think it is? “Did you always have that in there?” you ask, pointing to the contraption that Yoongi’s using to air up his basketball.

And he does a horrible job at suppressing a smile. Which makes you burst into flutters and beats beats beats. “You liar!” Oh, you are gonna wipe those laughs from his throat. “I had to change up my plans because of you!”

Palming the ball, Yoongi tilts his head dangerously to one side. “And I got to see you,” he proudly claims. “So I’ll take it.”

You hate how the memories come packaged with what’s haunted you. What else happened during that time, and what happened after you left. But there’s no way you’re gonna bring that up. Not when the night has transformed into something so magical. 

So you just clutch your food and lean on his car, opting to compliment him to wipe the murk away. “Got to see you, too,” you puff into the brisk night. Because you harbor a bit of nostalgia in your bones. And because he still makes you shy. “You and your stupid hair.”

Another bout of hisses wisp into your side. As you turn to regard Yoongi again, he slips his chains into his hoodie before continuing, and you swoon at the veins popping out of his skin with each pump. 

How can he look so perfect doing the simplest things? So unfair. 

After seconds that feel like an hour, Yoongi’s done. And he scans the parking lot before telling you to follow him. 

What you expect is some outdoor courts. Maybe getting past a gate or two. So when you approach a back door lit by the shine of a single light, you freeze. “Are we really going in?”

Fishing something out of his pocket, Yoongi simply turns over his shoulder. “Yeah. Why not?”

“Oh.” You didn’t think you’d actually get inside the building. If there was an outside court just as accessible it would’ve made sense. Can you even bring food in here? Is that question even relevant? “No reason.”

“So I shouldn’t bust in?”

Huh. “What?”

“I’ve already done it a few times, so.”

“Wait!” Nerves throw your hand on his bicep before you can stop. “What if someone sees us?”

He’s so warm. And so toned. And if he plans on taking his hoodie off? You’re not prepared for whatever the hell he has underneath. 

Voice softened, Yoongi tries to placate your paranoia, “They won’t, doll.”

“Are you sure? If we get caught here they’re gonna call the police and I am definitely not… Gonna…”

The object in his hand jangles, and you clearly see he was just joking the whole time because keys—keys—stare you in the face. 

What is it with him and keys? 

When Yoongi speaks, you feel like you’ve never done anything bad in your life, and suddenly the thought of trespassing with an official way in is so scandalous, 

“You picked the wrong night to be a good girl.”

You have to admit. Seeing him so mischievous and dashing makes you wanna follow him wherever the hell he goes. Even if it gets you in trouble. Even if you were breaking in tonight, you would be all in. And that thought should frighten you, but it only does because of the wings tickling your rib cage. 

How can he make you feel rebellious and yet still so shy? The power of Min Yoongi. He’s way too good at destroying you.

When you glare, the man only grins, hisses of laughter leaving him way too happily before he unlocks the door to no alarms or sirens. He doesn’t need to throw a wink your way, too, but of course he does as he lets you in. Which causes you to float through the dark entryway instead of walk oh he did not just slap your ass!

A jolt in your cunt causes you to regard him in shock. To which he hums in a feigned question. “Hmm?”

With nothing but darkness and his cologne surrounding you, it’s only natural that giddiness takes hold. Truthfully, you’re packed with so much adrenaline that you feel a little wild yourself. “You’ve been waiting to do that, huh.” 

“So fucking long.”

You are not surviving the night. And you don’t give a single shit.

But as shy and out of control as you feel around this man, you also feel safe—even in a faraway, dark building that you’ve never been in before. That’s gotta say something about him, right? 

Yoongi feels along the wall beside you for lights, purposefully bumping your chest with his front even though he’s securing a ball with an arm. When you question his joking decision with noises, a chaste kiss on your lips shuts you right up.

“You’re in the way,” he jokes through what you think is a smile, and you’re about to move when he flicks on a switch very far away from your shoulder.

Liar! Your jaw drop must be comical because Yoongi’s grin stretches astronomically wide. But you cannot find a retort because seeing him so chill while you’re stiff from paranoia has you at a loss.

Is this how he used to be all the time? This carefree, all caution to the wind? He’s so fucking handsome like this. No wonder he’s pulled so many hearts just like yours. 

When you still don’t find any words to say, Yoongi makes it harder, stepping so close that you have to swing the plastic container away. Taking one of your hands in his free one, he gives it a warm squeeze while murmuring,

“You’re so cute.”

“How,” you ask just as softly.

And Yoongi responds with lights in his eyes. “Just are.”

Your lips mesh with his as he keeps your fingers secured, and suddenly every cautious thing in your body gets launched into the skies, too.

But it ends as soon as it begins. And Yoongi backs away from you with a smile, 

“Eat.”

“Huh?”

“Eat, doll,” he orders before turning and dribbling onto the court.

When you call out that he hasn’t eaten yet, Yoongi tells you that he already did. When you look around to figure out where to even sit, you decide on the closest set of bleachers and make yourself as comfortable as you can.

Which is impossible. Because they’re bleachers. Which is now triple impossible. Because Yoongi just shucked off his hoodie and the only thing he had under it was his chains goddamn it.

If you weren’t already sitting down you would’ve fallen right into the next dimension. How the fuck are you supposed to eat in these conditions shit he’s walking over! 

Your throat seizes as Yoongi approaches, face trained as if he isn’t aware of his overwhelming presence. All he does is bend to place his sweater next to your legs. But the quick smooch on your lips makes you swoon harder than you ever have.

And the way his silver taps your chest makes you mentally hold on for dear life. Wait. What the fuck, Yoongi’s taking them off right now? Right in front of you? Just as you're supposed to eat oh okay he’s handing them to you great wonderful fantastic.

The metal links feel so warm yet slightly cold to the touch. Weighty, yet light. But you clutch them in your hand as you connect a gaze to his.

“Relax,” he orders, lightly slapping the side of your thigh. “No need to worry.” 

And with bangs swishing, he goes right back to the ball waiting for him. Leaving you starry-eyed to hell with silver in your palm.

…Did all of that just happen? Is any of this even real? Quite frankly, you fucking forgot what you were even worried about. 

No matter what he does—simple lay-ups standing in place, dribbling to different spots to shoot, or even lazily jogging after the ball—you’re so enthralled with his actions that you forget that you’re not supposed to be here. 

And it takes your last bite of food for something to finally hit you. How does Yoongi have keys to this place? Where the hell did he score those because you don’t think he ever mentioned anything about working here. Or anywhere else other than the studio. 

Yet another mystery to add to this walking, bare-chested enigma. 

But there’s another question forming behind your eyes the longer you watch him practice, the more you notice how he’s actually going hard. Yoongi’s really good right now. A lot better than what you’ve seen of him before. 

Has he been coming here more often than he’s let on? And why does he look so… serious? You’d be surprised if he even remembered you’re here. 

Setting your empty container down, you gather the chains in your hands again, deciding to slip them over your head for safer keeping. After, you grab a water before stepping down the bleachers, hanging a little ways away until Yoongi notices you’re courtside.

And when he sees you, he stops practicing immediately, jogging to you so sweaty and shining and gross and handsome and— “Wait, you’re all swea—”

You’re pulled into a kiss the same time you hear a basketball drop, salt on your tongue and damp palms on your cheeks. And you melt right into the shiny wood floor, drifting, drifting, sailing into dreamland even though you’re technically already there. 

“Sweaty,” you whisper into his hot breaths of exertion, a twinge between your legs when he kisses you even deeper—breathing, inhaling, taking you in. “Gross.”

“Thanks.” 

You flash a smile against Yoongi’s lips, giggling because this is all better than anything your brain could’ve conjured on its own. When you ask why he’s going so hard, all you get is a question in return,

“You’re perfect, you know that?” 

Huh? Blinking, you suddenly don’t remember your own train of thought. “What did I do?” 

“Nothing.” He presses a wet mouth to your nose. “Did you eat?”

Laughing, you reassure him, “I did, I did.” 

“Good. You bored?”  

“Huh?”

Yoongi leans to softly take your lips this time, and you want to say he’s approaching the legal limit for kisses tonight. “Thought you came over cus you wanna leave.”

“And stop seeing you play? I could watch this forever.” You squeeze the water bottle a little tighter. “Just checking on you.” Another strike hits between your legs when Yoongi takes another, lazier glide over your mouth, and you sigh when he tugs you forward by your bottoms, fingers slick from use. 

You could do this for eternity, too.

“Well I got about five more minutes in me, so..”

This man. 

“Forever might be a stretch.” 

“Ah, shut up. Here,” you offer through a giggle, holding the water out for him to take. 

“Thanks.” When he does, he tilts his head at just the right angle to cut you through, gulping down liquid and making you do the same to your nothingness. 

So unfair. “You looked like you were going pretty hard.” 

Lowering the bottle, Yoongi shifts his jaw before taunting something a ways off. “I kinda was.” 

“It was kinda hot.” 

His laugh makes you smile, and his next swig makes you weep. “Nah, but. This is our practice gym. I can just zone out here, so. It’s been one of those things.” 

Ah. Was this one of the places Yoongi ended up during those months apart? You wish he could’ve brought you along sometimes. Or at least thought about asking. It’s nice just to be around him while he does something he likes. Gaining courage, you say exactly what’s on your mind, “You can always bring me, too. If you want.” 

And it’s true. You don’t really have to do much when you’re with him, because just being around him is what brightens your day. Lifts your mood. 

But you have to admit that watching him play basketball while shirtless is the biggest fucking win in history. 

When did Yoongi get so close? When did his eyes retreat so far away? “I didn’t wanna bother you with this,” he admits, a drop of sweat clinging onto his chin. “I don’t even put music on.” 

“You never bother me,” you whisper back. Hoping that he believes you and that he will start to accept that as fact. Because it is. “Even if you’re being annoying.” 

The bottle crinkles as he smiles, and there’s a soft kiss to your lips that has no real desire behind it. Just a nice peck that sends you careening down a hill of flowers. “You won’t be feeling that way tomorrow, babe.” 

“And why is that?”

“Cus of what I’m wearing.” 

And he says that while half-naked? Like any look on him could get any worse. “Oh,” you scoff out, fully calling his bluff. “As if.”

Well, fuck. You don’t enjoy the smirk plastered on his face. It has you both dreading and excited for whatever demon you’re gonna run into tomorrow. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” He shrugs as he starts to hand the water back. “We can go soon, by the way.”

“Okay.”

But before you can grab it, Yoongi pulls the bottle from reach. “Unless,” he teases. “You wanna play me.”

“What.”

His grin shines, face glistening and turning your insides to jelly. “You told me you’d win, so. Let’s see it.”

You said that? While sober? How does he remember something like that when you can’t even recall a time or place you’d tell him something so bold. “When!”

“Right after you woke up once. Said you’re a master?”

Oh. That was ages ago. Fuck, you already forgot how did Yoongi remember? 

“Oh. Well.” Your nose turns up in feigned haughtiness. “Wouldn’t wanna throw you off your game before a championship.” 

“Uh huh.”

“I’d make you cry what the fuck!” 

Water spills down your head in rivulets as you freeze, stunned and watching Yoongi jogging his laughs back to the bleachers like a punk. “Think you got something on your face, doll.”

“Yoongi!” What the hell possessed him to do that to you here? Racing after him with purpose, you slam into him just as he reaches for another bottle, shoving a laugh out of his throat and making him catch himself on hardwood. “Nu uh, gimme that!”

“It’s mine, I just ran out—”

“Bitch!” You lunge for another bottle lying further away, distancing yourself to quickly rip the cap off and to avoid feeling his slick back on your hands. 

And it’s a lawless gym as both of you start spraying water, arcs and splashes of bottled liquid spewing over the court and soaking into your clothes and his bare skin. Which proves to get worse and worse for your wellbeing the more he gets soaked in your attacks. 

Running ends up being the only option to avoid getting completely drenched, and you hightail it behind bleachers before your waist is grabbed. “Fuck!” 

“Uh huh.” 

You try to wrestle out of his hold, his wet forearm digging lovely into your stomach, and you’re temporarily let go just so Yoongi can spin you around. 

Your back connects with solid wall, the impact shooting a grunt out of your throat before you laugh out of pure disbelief. “I can’t believe, you got me to do that,” you rush out, sentence punctuated by your breaths more than anything else. 

Here you are. Under bleachers. With Yoongi’s skin caging you with radiating heat.  

You can only stare as he drinks you in, no doubt looking at his silver around your neck and your chest heaving from exertion. Butterflies float across your stomach when his smile drips, and you fold as soon as he swoops in. 

Everything in your being pulses hard. It’s so visceral that you teeter on the edge of sanity and logic, and the thoughts slipping through your mind are just as wild as you feel. Before you’re even aware of it, a mischievous finger slides along the hem of his shorts, and you jump at the downright boulders rolling down your front, 

“Careful, doll.”

“Hmm?” You feel bad. And it feels fantastic. “What was that?” 

More gravel slides down his tongue, and you shake at his attractive as fuck threat, “Fuck around and find out then.” 

Your giggles add feather lightness into his murky laughs, but you’re so preoccupied that you don’t notice his hand between your legs until he slaps the inside of your thigh. “Yoo—!”

“Unless.” He leans forward. “My baby’s too scared.” 

Holy fuck, you might be. Is he really willing to do something with you? In a public place very similar to where you’re gonna watch him play tomorrow? You don’t know why the fuck that’s attractive as hell, but it is. 

Yoongi grips your chin, eyes falling to your lips and brows knitted before claiming your lips even harder. And despite your bones vibrating to hell, you put your all into the kiss, relishing in the growing hardness you feel against your front. An animal starts to wake inside your core, and you almost feel like stroking it. Feeding it. Raising it only for it to consume you in return. 

“Fuck it, we’re leaving.” 

“Huh?” Dazed, you let your vision refocus as Yoongi chuckles at your hazy state. 

“Fuck this. I’m taking you home.” 

For some reason, the game makes you nervous today. Even while Taehyung strides into the gymnasium with you, there’s a lingering feeling swelling in your stomach, and you don’t have any reason for it yet. 

At least this is another rec center entirely. Because there’s no way you would’ve sat still knowing you had a clandestine meeting in the same place not even twenty-four hours before. 

But the activity already bustling around hardwood catches your attention. Not on both sides, since only one team is here, but they are active on the other end doing drills. 

Wow. They look really intimidating, matching jerseys that were clearly done professionally and warm-ups having a set routine. You wonder if this is gonna be a tough game for… Wait. That’s your brother under the basket. That’s them? 

Fucking hell, Yoongi was right.

Because you’ll already never get over how attractive he looks in athletic clothes.

But team jerseys? 

Seeing this man rock a basketball uniform with his toned arms and legs so visible makes you want to claw your way out of your invisible cage. 

When the hell did they even get those? And why is he already slightly drenched during the warm-up alone? 

As soon as you see him make a lay-up, you know for a fact that you shouldn’t be here. 

Yes, you’re gonna stay and yes, you’re gonna cheer for them all game. But you are absolutely gonna feel like jumping him, which will in turn make you wanna bolt and run all the way out of town every agonizing second. 

Shit, shit, shit. You’re gonna have to try your damned hardest to unstick your eyes from that man the whole time. Already, you can hear Taehyung’s teasing, and your groan is to lament your future state.

Your name suddenly rings across the gym, and four feet pause in your ascent up the bleachers. When you catch both him and Jimin waving you down from their courtside chairs, you tilt your head in intrigue. 

They want you to come over there? What the hell is this about? 

Sighing, you turn. “Guess I’ll go see what they want.” 

“Here,” Tae offers his hand. “I’ll save you a seat.” 

Your bag is transferred to his grip while you nod, and you step down onto the court, wondering if you’re even allowed to walk onto it to see them. And Jimin’s grin can be seen from miles away. “Come here!” 

You gingerly step onto shiny wooden floors, making your way over and becoming hyper aware that someone else notices your presence. But you’re so puzzled as to why there’s no one on the other side of the court yet because isn’t the game about to start? 

Where’s the other team? As you approach their row of chairs, your hands immediately find your hips. “What’s up?” 

Jimin’s eyes stay creased as your brother explains the reason he waved you down. A very stupid, very innocuous reason. “Can you keep score?” 

“Me?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Why me?” 

Your brother uses his jersey to wipe sweat from his brow, and you wince at the brand new material getting gross already. “The girl that usually does it for us is sick.” 

“And you know the game,” Jimin quickly tacks on, rubbing at some tattoos on full display. Wait, are there more than you remember? When did he get more ink?

Your sibling asks another question you had in mind, “You aren’t gonna cover those?”

“Nah. Not today,” the man elongates in a stretch. “Just got another one. This one!” 

Ah, you were right. “I like it.” 

Jimin couldn’t look more proud. But enough of that because you really just wanna go back and observe the game from another place entirely. “Can’t y’all find someone else to keep score?” 

“We don’t think anyone else can,” your brother explains, looking over your shoulder. “At least, not the people coming to watch us.” 

Cool. You get to be met with heat and sweat from all these guys without compensation. How is this something you would say yes to? “Well. I don’t really feel like being a scorekeeper for free.” 

When your sibling laughs with Jimin, they share a look before he says so matter-of-factly, “Told you.” 

You’re sticking with that. If you’re gonna sit next to a bunch of smelly people, they’re gonna pay… you… somehow.

A ways down the row, you catch Yoongi dumping himself onto a random chair, head tilted back before he hangs it forward to wipe sweat from his forehead. 

And suddenly this temporary gig doesn’t seem terrible in the slightest. 

Because one, you can sit on a team bench that will have his fine ass right there. And two, this will give you a way to objectively focus on the game. You won’t have time to be distracted by a demon and his hair that’s gotten criminally long. 

“I’ll get us all dinner,” your sibling slices through your thoughts. “After we win.”  

“Fine,” you sigh, taking the end seat and shooting one more glance to the other side of the court. “Then I get to p—”

The air around you squeezes inward. And all sounds plunge underwater. 

Because you recognize someone you knew from a dark club walking onto the court, his team looking just as sharp and cocky as his eyes. 

Shit. Shit, shit, shit. 

You don’t notice the way Jimin’s hands flex, nor the way a familiar presence walks up to join your brother. 

All you can do is stare back. 

And without even realizing. 

You’re already rubbing your arm.

-

-

tbc. :((

-

a ha ha... so how do we feel? | taglist | discord!

a/n: okay, hello, loves. apologies this part took so damn long to post! can you imagine if i tried to post everything at once LMAOO yikes talk about too much at once. but i hope this part was enough to still be good on its own, and broken, pt. 2 will be... well. you can probably guess that's where a majority of my brainpower is going to go. a/n 2: thank you all for being here! it's been an amazing two years working on this series and i cannot tell you how grateful and appreciative i am to have such wonderful people alongside me. i hope this series continues to be there for you when you need it, bc it has become that for me, too. ++ feedback box: ⇥ of course, any reblogs/comments/messages are appreciated! ⇥ for the ones that are too shy to reblog with a review, comment on this, or send a message, i went ahead and made another anonymous form where you can send in what you think! ⇥ no emails collected, no need to put in a username. it’s literally just a comment dropbox :D feedback can be as short/sweet or as long as you’d like! ⇥ here! ++ more links: ⇥ masterlist  ⇥ three tangerines masterlist

#ITS FINALLY HEREEE #SHEESH #bts fic #bts fanfic #bts imagines #bts reactions #filter for fics: #*ryenfictalk #yoongi fic #yoongi angst #yoongi fluff #yoongi smut #three tangerines #3tan11 #yoongi x you #yoongi x reader #btsfic #*latest #ryenwrites

[reiderwriter]

You're Just Too Good To Be True

Chapter 9 of That's What You Get

Summary: You're determined to seduce Spencer after accidentally rejecting his last advances. It goes better (and worse) than you expect.

Warnings: Dom/Sub, Dom! Spencer, Oral (M receiving), clit stimulation, sort of dry humping, cum play, breeding kink, size kink, wife/husband role play, degradation, pet names (baby, princess, slut, whore), creampie and heartbreak. MINORS DNI 18+

A/N: Welcome to the endgame. Please don't worry about anything and go into this chapter completely blind 🥰 My requests are finally back open, and you can find my masterlist here! I'm also participating in kinktober this month, and everything so far is here, too if you're interested!! 💕 Enjoy!

The elevator was painfully slow as you followed Spencer out of the building. You had to take your bets about which way he'd have gone, whether he'd brought a car or was planning on taking the subway. Maybe it was wishful thinking, but you chose the parking garage, partially hoping for seclusion with him a bit faster than you'd get if he'd run to the crowded station. 

Fate was on your side. You stepped off the elevator on the basement floor and after a harried moment of twisting this way and that, your eyes locked onto him in the distance, walking towards his desperately old car. A miracle, considering he didn't often drive. 

"Spencer!" You shouted across the lot, practically skipping over to him, only mere paces away when he finally turned to look at you. You slowed down to a walk then, but with a marked anticipation bubbling in your stomach, your steps felt like lurches, your body drawn into him by the beat of your heart. 

"Spencer, wait." He'd stopped just in front of his car, so he wasn't really moving, but you wanted to be sure. You needed to be sure. 

"Y/N, what are you doing here?" He asked, his tone light, not as confused as his face made him seem. You hoped that was a good sign, that he was playing up the awkwardness of the interaction for anyone else who happened to be driving themselves home. 

"Our annulment deadline passed, right?" You looked up into his eyes, trying to hold the grin back from your face as you locked eyes with him. 

"Yes. I told you that the other night in the lobby, why are you asking again?"

"Because I want to go home with my husband." You took a step closer to him with the words, letting them fall lower, hitting the back of your throat where your heart was currently beating. They somehow didn't get stuck as you raised your hand to his chest. You didn't touch him fully, just let your pointer finger trace circles on the pocket of his shirt, hoping he'd hoping understand. Desperately. 

Sick of your teasing, he grabbed your hand and flattened it against his chest, keeping his eyes locked with yours as he slowly twisted the two of you around. You were like two beasts, circling each other, looking for areas to attack, to bite, to destroy. God you wanted him to destroy you. 

Before you knew it your back was to the car door, his voice in your ear. 

"And what do you want to do at home with your husband?" He growled in your ear, as he dropped your hand, instead bracing himself on the roof of the car and leaning down into you. Your body was on fire and he wasn't even making contact anymore. 

"I think you know." 

"I think I want to hear anyway." 

You just couldn't give into that. A challenge had been issued, and by God were you going see it through. 

"I want to feel my husband's hands around my throat. I want to feel his heartbeat pressed against mine. I want him to hold my hand as he pounds into me. And I want him to cum so deep inside of me that it doesn't even drip out." Each word was hushed, even in the stillness of the basement. It looked empty, but you never knew who'd snuck into their cars before you'd arrived. Or even after, as you focused all your will and energy on Spencer. 

To his credit, he didn't move, barely even batted an eye. He just nodded down at you, and smiled slowly, letting it spread across his lips in a wild grin, as if you'd just said the sweetest words to him instead of the dirtiest. 

"Your husband is a lucky man." 

"He could be, but he hasn't opened the car door for me yet, so who knows." You dared to touch him then, snaking one hand up his chest into his hair, and slowly pulling his head down for a kiss as you pushed yourself up. 

His arms didn't move until the second you touched, abuzz with the contact as you suddenly found yourself stuck together as if glued. His lips slip expertly over your own, as your thoughts run amok with glee. You'd won, and he was your prize. He pressed you back into the car, letting his hands explore more and more of you as he got carried away by your scent, the feeling of you under his hands, the taste of you on his lips. 

He finally pulled away and put three metres of space between you, physically far enough that he couldn't touch you as he turned away, trying to wipe you from his lips. 

"I'm sorry, we shouldn't be doing that here. Someone could see us." 

"I don't care." His eyes shot back to yours with a tilt of his head that you knew was him asking you if you really meant that. "I don't care who sees us, because I want them to know who you belong to."

"Are you sure you're not going to avoid me for weeks again if I keep kissing you?" 

"Spencer, I want you to do much more than just kissing me this time."

The grin bloomed on your lips before you could stop it, so proud to be claiming him publicly now. 

You could see the hesitation on Spencer's face as he risked pulling you back in, likely running the worst case scenarios of taking you right then and there in the car (misdemeanour charge of public sex, 1-2 years of probation, demotion from BAU, registry on a sex offenders list etc.) and collected his thoughts. He so would have liked to have hiked your skirt up then and there, but he doesn't even have to ask to know your opinion on the matter. 

You could practically hear him counting to ten. 

"Get in the car." 

"Say it nicely and I'll think about it." He raised an eyebrow, keeping eye contact as he opened his mouth one more time. 

"Get in the car, Mrs. Reid. Or do you need to be manhandled into it." 

As much as you're sure you would have enjoyed that, you chose not to push it too far. So you did as you were told, little sparks of heat flying up and down your body as you replayed the possessive tone he'd used to say your name. 

The car was cold, but you feel it warm up more as he closes the door behind you and climbs into the driver's seat. It increases tenfold when he leans over to pull your seatbelt into place, and dissipates entirely when he rests his hand on your leg and doesn't move it for the rest of the ride. 

Your almost disappointed by just how locked in it is, wishing desperately that it would go further up, right to where you wanted him. You even tried to press the issue, literally, with your hands. 

"Y/N, if I touch you anymore than this, we're not making it home. And there aren't many secluded spots on the side of the road, and I'm pretty jealous when it comes to things that are mine." You try not to melt at the words, but you fail, your legs dropping apart naturally. 

You expect him to take you to his place, excited to finally christen the bed you'd slept in peacefully twice. But as the scenery around you changes, becoming infinitely more familiar, you realise that's not the direction you're going. 

"This is the way to my apartment." It's less of a question, more of a statement, but he nods at you in confirmation. 

"You said you wanted to go home. I'm taking you home." 

"Spencer, your apartment would've been fine, that's your home."

"My home is wherever you are. We're here." He turns the engine off and climbs out of the car, leaving your heart fizzing with adoration. 

He finishes the conversation as he opens the door, offering you a hand and pulling you up so quickly you stumble into his chest as his lips fall to your ears. 

"Besides, your place is closer." Heat pooled between your legs, only growing with each step as your body reacted to having him closer and closer to your bed. 

"Didn't want to fuck me in the car though?" 

"I wanted something better for our first time." 

"This isn't our first time, Spencer." Your back hits the door of your apartment as you round on him, needing to see his eyes as you remind him that you know what he feels like inside of you. 

"How much do you remember?" He asks, not stepping closer, but not moving away either, eyes roaming your body alight with bodily hunger. 

"I remember the way you feel. The way you taste. I remember all the carnal details and none of the practical ones, and I'm beginning to think that maybe they're the only ones that matter." You wet your lips and glance down to his. A moment's hesitation is all he needs to attack you again, pushing his entire body weight into you as his lips find yours again. 

He's hot and he's hard and he's big and he's pushing against you so strongly you fear he's going to push you straight through the door, no unlocking needed. He pulls back just long enough for you to remind him of it though, but his only reaction is turning you around so his crotch is against your ass. 

"Go ahead and unlock it then." His lips find their way to the sensitive spot on your neck, and you wonder if it's luck or skill that puts him there, how he knew it would drive you crazy. 

It takes multiple attempts to open the door, and you're growing impatient in your lust, letting out tiny whimpers in frustration. You feel like your three more failed attempts away from stomping your feet and throwing yourself to the floor in a tantrum when his hand comes up so steady your own, pushing the key into the door first try. 

"You just needed some help getting it in, it's okay." The innocent words do nothing to distract from his hot cock resting at your ass, and you almost roll your eyes at the irony of the moment as he guides you inside. 

He turns you again and your lips lock in desperation. He hits the light switch and you don't stop. Your legs hit the back of your sofa, and you don't stop. Your unbuttoning his shirt and you don't stop, nearing the end of your tether, ready to feel him snap right back into you like a taught wire. 

"You're not even inside me yet and you already feel this good…" You whisper the words as he words down your neck, paying special attention to your pressure points, like he's memorised all the spots on your body that leave you weak in the knees. You can feel his smile as he attempts to undo you. 

Until he pulls away. Looking down at you as if you were a work of art and he the painter, he nods in satisfaction, before lifting you bridal style. 

"It's time for us to get into bed." 

"Well, aren't you the gentleman? Where I'm from, it's called fucking, Spencer." He almost flinches at the vulgarity, but you brush it off, letting him throw you down onto your bed. 

He starts working on the buttons of his sleeves, rolling them up neatly to his elbows in preparation for something important, but you don't give him the chance. 

Slipping off the bed, you make your way to your knees, where it becomes achingly apparent that the buttons on his pants also need to be pried open. 

"What do you think you're doing?" He asks, a little ticked off by your movements. 

"I'm getting ready to please my husband, obviously. Isn't that what good little wives do?" You finally slip him from his pants, letting his erection answer the question for him. 

"I'm in charge."

"And I like it that way," you say, opening your mouth wide as he grabs his cock in his hand, and sticking your tongue out nice and far as he let's it graze your top lip. 

He pushes deep into your mouth before grabbing your throat. You try not to splutter around him, relaxing and taking as much as he's giving. 

"Go ahead then, if you think you can handle it." The words shoot straight to your core, and you eagerly begin pumping your mouth up and down his erect penis. 

"Good Little cock sucker, this is what I married you for." His grip runs up to your hair, grabbing a chunk of it in his hands as he follows your movements around his cock. 

"You look so pretty on your knees for me like that," he says, pulling your mouth over his entire cock and keeping him there. "I'm gonna make you feel so good later, baby, just you wait."

He continues like that, using his grip to masturbate with your mouth, moaning and groaning at your touch until your ready to feel his cum shoot down the back of your throat. 

His release doesn't come though, and instead he's pulling your head off and discarding you below him. Climbing onto the bed, you eagerly watch him as he takes a seat, making himself comfortable and not even sparing a glance your way, still sat on your knees on the floor, spit and tears decorating your face, eyes wild with lust. 

"I'm not getting on my knees for you, princess. If you want me to pleasure you, you're going to have to climb right into my lap yourself." 

His explanation had your legs snapping shut as you squeeze them together, desperate for release. 

You do as you're told once again, climbing onto the bed and crawling into the generous space he's made between his legs. 

He positions you where he wants you, your back to his chest as he used his large hands to press your legs wide. 

"That's it, open wide for me princess."

"What are you, a horny dentist?" You laugh at his words, but he grabs your jaw and tilts it up to him, capturing your lips in a rough embrace. The air doesn't return to your lungs until he touches your cunt, and then it comes in a sharp gasp that leaves your head spinning. 

Maybe it's him that's actually having that affect. 

"You like that? You like me rubbing your little dripping pussy through your panties? Y/N, I'm not even touching you directly." The words are matter-of-fact, like he's astounded you're so fucking wet for him, but not shocked, knowing how much of a dirty little whore you were for him. 

His hands on you, the extra friction from your panties, his words in your ear, it's all too much as you find an orgasm rippling through your body, leaving you twitching as you ride it out on his fingers. 

"Where do you keep your condoms?" 

"I don't." He sighs in your ear, and you can feel him try to move himself so he can go and grab one from his bag or his car or somewhere even further from where you need him.

"Spenced, we're married." You whisper into his ear, nestling back further into his chest. 

"What are you suggesting?" 

"We're married, and it looks like we're staying married. I don't care where your nut goes as long as its inside me or painted over my body." 

He pushes you onto the bed on your back then as he pushed his remaining clothing off, taking yours with it while he's at it. His grabs the base of his cock, and the pre-cum dribbles out. You watch with all the hunger of a wolf seeing a rabbit, desperate to have him inside you one way of another. 

"That's it, slide your cock into my PUSSY, Spencer. Put it right where it belongs." 

Your pleas fall on deaf ears, as he uses the top of his cock to press against your clit, not bothering to enter you just yet. 

"What's wrong with this? Aren't I still getting you off like this? Not risking anything letting my cock sit here, letting myself cream on this beautiful mound." His words and motions on your clit are too much and you cum again the teasing is so good. 

In your bleary daze, he finally pushes into you, and you scream his name at the contact. 

"Thank you. Thank you, thank you, thank you. God Spencer, you feel so good, so big for me." Gratitude is the only thing running through your mind, thankful as you are to have him buried deep. 

His thrusts are hard, fast and wet, and you hear them every step of the way as he spits down to the place you connect. You moan desperately, unable to form words by now as he snaps his hips into you violently, taking and taking and taking. 

But soon, it's his turn to give, and he's asking where he should be doing it. 

"Want my cum inside of you? Want it right here?" His hands fall to the bulge in your stomach, to the place where you can feel him pushing into and pulling out of you, the place where you can feel him grazing your walls. 

"Those other types of orgasm, I'm gonna give them all to you. I'm going to clamp your nipples and eat you out so you associate the pain with pleasure. I'm going to put a vibrator on your clit and leave you tied up until you've soaked the sheets. I'm going to pump you do full of cum that it's dripping from every whole on your body. I'm going to fuck you in the office and see how many people find out. Is that how you like it?"

You try to hold it back, to prologue the pleasure, but you csnt and it rips through you, your juices pushing out of you in a shudder, soaking Spencer's cock as he lifts your leg and deepens his angle. 

"How do you feel better than I remembered?" He moans as he begins shooting his load into you, cumming in you with a deep moan, locking his lips against that same spot on your neck. 

Maybe it's the post-nut clarity, maybe it's just the words that accidentally ripped from his mouth, but you're suddenly wide awake, the cloud of lust that had been shading you vanishing in an downpour of rain. 

He pulls out of you with a kiss to your lips and runs to the bathroom to grab you something to wash up with. He returns cheerfully, and begins his work, but you grab his hand and stop him as the realisation hits you. 

"Y/N, I'm almost finished, just let me clean you up." 

"What did you mean? When you said I felt better than you remembered?" 

He stills, trying to search for the right words to say. He obviously doesn't find them, because he evades his eyes and continues cleaning you up, not answering. 

"Spencer, do not fucking ignore me. What did you mean?" 

"I'm sorry." That's all he says, and you feel bile rise in your throat. He kneels between your legs and runs a hand through his hair, discarding the washcloth and putting some distance between the two of you. 

"You're sorry?! Spencer, look at me right now." It takes him a minute, but he finally meets your gaze. 

"Spencer, how long has it been since you remembered everything?" You try to hope, to wish this was all a misunderstanding, that he was going to tell you right after he cleaned you up, but you interrupted him. 

"Y/N, I have an eidetic memory…" The way his voice cracks finally has tears welling in your eyes. "I never forgot. How could I?" 

The wind ripples into the window, and as the temperature drops so does your heart. It falls to the floor and shatters into pieces as you discover his lie. 

"I think you should go. Go home." You say, as a tear finally escapes your eye, your stomach turning with the discovery that he really was too good to be true. 

"Y/N, please-"

"No. I want to be alone, let me… let me think, please." 

"Y/N, really, I think we should-" 

"Get out!" You shout, and that when your body starts heaving in sobs as you pick up anything near that you can find to gather up around yourself. The strength of your outrage, the display of emotions temporarily startles Spencer into supplication, and he gathers his clothes quickly. 

You sob watching him move around the busy space, you sob as he turns around to try to speak again, abandoning each attempt. You sob the hardest when he leaves, and you are alone in your apartment with all the weight of his dishonesty pushed upon you. 

🏷️ @w-windyy @multifandom-on-the-side @reidandhotchsgirl @babybluecakes @hugyourlungs @prentissesredtanktop @reidscaffeine @bethanyhaas01 @average-sunflower @academiareid @sailortongue @daddy-dotcom @high-functioning-cosplayer @anniewhalelover @abbyshmaby @isabel-ffl-xoxo @sujan39 @frxcless @bluestuesday @busy-buzzing @breadbrobin @maxinehufflepuffprincess @l0v3cam @booksandwonderlands @myescapefromthislife @ferrjulie @scoobydoopoo @aelinismyqueen @littlesingingbean @jamiemuscatosslut @xohoneybun @anchovy89freya @dysphoricsanity @ghostheartbeat @casss2111 @rebloggiest-reblogger @wishyoudaskme @imawhoreforu @academiacoffeelover @softservepunk @andiebeaword @r-3dlips @wakaladjarin @ratbastardchild @mcira @danika1994 @stargurl99 @whovianwholikesgirls @its-not-too-late-for-coffee @doriantomybasil

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid smut #mgg #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fandom #reiderreplies #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #dom spencer reid #Series: That's What You Get

[andvys]

Dancing with our hands tied | S.H.

Chapter seven ⭐︎ Got a feeling your electric touch, could fill this ghost town up with life

Warnings: 18+, minors don't interact. mentions of sex, mentions of unrequited feelings, sexual tension, reader teasing Steve sexually, not giving away anything else

Pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Summary: After you and Steve cross a line, you are the one to take things to a whole new level — driving Steve insane with your never ending teasing.

Word count: 7.4k+

Author’s note: I know you keep yelling at me but anyways -- shoutout to @hellfire--cult for helping me with this, especially the uh last part hehe.

Also, @prettyboyeddiemunson talked about a little crossover thing, and I love her girl in gods & monsters so she's making a little appearance here for Eddie hehe, all credits go to my bestie of course, the character belongs to her! If you haven't read the story yet, go check it out, it's one of my faves!

Series Masterlist ⭐︎ Previous Chapter ⭐︎ Next Chapter

♡

Staring up at the ceiling, Steve sinks deeper into his pillows, finding more comfort in his bed than usual, he takes a deep breath as he runs his hand over his face. He should feel content, knowing that he’s got the day off but instead he feels tense and frustrated in a way he had never felt before. 

His mind could be anywhere right now, he could think about the new tapes he stacked up at work last night, he could think about the show he watched before he went to bed, he could think about the mixtape Eddie had made for him, he could think about the girl that so obviously tried to flirt with him at work the other day, his mind could take him to any place, his imagination could be limitless but no, his mind is somewhere it shouldn’t be, his mind is with you. 

Nothing he does, nothing he tries to think about can drag his thoughts away from you. You occupy every space of his mind, reminding him of how much control you had taken over him ever since you both crossed a line that changed things between you both. 

Steve may have been the one who started it at all, but you are the one who took the game to a whole new level. 

The little accident in his kitchen that happened weeks ago, was only the start of it all. 

Steve wasn’t exactly subtle when he kept checking you out before the fiasco with the broken lever, and he wasn’t subtle with his touches either. He was treading on thin ice, he knew that, he knew that his slight teasing could have easily backfired if you reacted differently but it didn’t, and your reactions were everything that he was hoping for. You grew flustered, you started blushing, you stuttered and you looked at him the way he was hoping you would. 

But, what he didn’t expect was for you to tease him back, especially in a way that had him blushing, stuttering, and staring at you in shock. 

You were so innocent and shy at first, doing everything as subtly as possible. It started with gentle touches on his arm or his hand, soft whispers during dinner whenever he sat beside you, or long eye contact. Then, you realized just how much power you had over him and things quickly developed into something more, something so much deeper.

Your teasing was no longer innocent and your shyness seemed to have slipped away more and more, little by little. 

The look in your eyes was no longer a shy one whenever you looked at each other. There was a fire behind your eyes that he had never seen before. The smirk that tugged at your lips wasn’t the same one you usually looked at him with, it was different, mischievous, and very suggestive – a little too suggestive for someone like you because if someone else had looked at him the way you do, he’d think that they’re flirting but you don’t do that and certainly not with him. 

The only explanation for your behavior is that you are teasing him, playing with him just the way he did with you but not because you want him. He started something that night when Hopper and Joyce announced their engagement. It was harmless at first, his teasing was light and playful, he loved to see those sweet reactions of yours but Steve didn’t know that it was a dangerous game that he had started, he didn’t know that he’d be playing with fire the moment he’d touch you. 

Because you are far from harmless, and your teasing is not light and playful in the slightest. If it was, he wouldn’t be feeling like this right now; frustrated, agitated and filled with pent up emotions that he can’t even make out in his own head. 

He closes his eyes again as a groan falls from his lips, he shakes his head at himself, cursing inwardly for thinking about no one other than you. 

Has it always been that way? 

Have you always been on his mind? 

Or is it something new?

An unspoken deal was made between the both of you when you two started this. There are no rules, just a winner and a loser – whoever breaks first loses and so far, it seems like Steve won’t even get close to winning, even though he was the one to start it all so confidently. 

You clearly have taken over, because the moment you looked at him with innocent big eyes and a pout on your lips while pressing your chest against his arm when you tried to squeeze past him, your boobs nearly spilling over your cute little top, your voice sounding raspy from all the weed you had smoked that night, he was done for. 

It wasn’t the first time that a girl had done something like this to him, plenty of girls have given him those innocent eyes, have pressed their boobs against him, in much less clothing… but something about you drives him especially crazy. Maybe it’s the fact that you both hate or dislike each other or maybe it’s the fact that he is just extremely frustrated – sexually frustrated. Maybe that is the only reason why you get to him in that way… why he feels the want to continue this little game or why he feels the intense need to fuck you and get you out of his mind, once and for all. 

Another groan falls from his lips when he remembers that Robin bailed on him after she called him in the middle of the night, telling him that she wouldn’t make it to lunch today, meaning that it will be just Eddie, you and him. 

A part of him even looks forward to seeing you, the other part doesn’t because he already knows how he will feel afterwards, while you will probably go home feeling satisfied after teasing the hell out of him. 

Every time before you leave, you look at him as though you had done nothing wrong, which sometimes leads him to believe that you’re not even aware of all the teasing you torture him with and that he was the only one playing this game, all this time. 

Steve drags himself out of bed and into the bathroom, turning on the shower so the water can heat up while he brushes his teeth. He looks at his reflection in the mirror, rolling his eyes at the mess on his head, he brings his hand up to his hair, running his fingers through it. 

As he thinks about what to wear, he gets lost in his thoughts, thinking about you, wondering what you will wear. Are you going to wear a dress? Another short skirt to drive him crazy with? 

He rolls his eyes, cursing inwardly at himself for thinking about you again. 

He needs to get this out of his system. 

He needs to get you out of his system. 

And there is only one way to do it and he knows it, but he’s not even sure where your feelings stand, if you’d be down for what he’s longing for or if you’d laugh in his face if he even tried to suggest something like it. – Your reaction would probably be the latter, and just the thought of it is enough to bring the grumpiness out in him. 

He begrudgingly starts getting ready, all while his mind keeps him occupied with thoughts about you. 

He doesn’t know what caused all of this, he doesn’t know how it happened, how his mind is incapable of thinking about anything or anyone but you these days. 

He feels as though he had been cursed. You are haunting him, in his mind and even in his dreams, and seeing you all the time doesn't help at all… and yet, he wouldn’t want it any other way because this little thing between you both makes him feel a thrill that has been missing in his life. 

By the time Steve pulls up into the parking lot at the diner, you and Eddie are already there.

You’re sitting on the hood of his car, hands folded in your lap, sunglasses low on your nose, a smile on your lips as you’re nodding along to whatever Eddie is telling you. You look good… too good for just a simple breakfast at the diner. 

He parks the car and after a few deep breaths, he pulls out the keys and gets out, trying not to stare at you as he walks towards the two of you. 

“Hey guys.”

Eddie turns around, a mocking smile on his face, he crosses his arms over his chest, “took you long enough, big boy.”

Steve chuckles, scratching the back of his neck as he eyes you from the side, “yeah uh, I missed my alarm this morning and Robin woke me up in the middle of the night to bail on us, took me a while to fall back asleep after that.” 

You groan at his words, sliding off the car, you smooth down your jean shorts and push your sunglasses up into your hair, “so she keeps ditching us.” 

“She’s in love, Sweetheart,” Eddie winks at you, wiggling his brows, “she’s got better things to do.” 

You roll your eyes at his words and look over Eddie’s shoulder, meeting his eyes for the first time today. You lick your lips as your eyes move down up and down his body. 

“Hey, Lego head.”

Lego head. The silly nickname doesn’t quite suit the look in your eyes. 

“Blondie,” he nods. 

Eddie chuckles, playing with the keys in his hand as he nudges his head into the direction of the diner, “let’s go eat, I’m starving.” 

“You’re always starving, Eddie,” you snort as you are the first to start walking. 

“Yeah man, you’re always eating and you’re still starving,” Steve chuckles, walking beside Eddie, “you’re like a raccoon or something.” 

You look over your shoulder, a smile on your lips, “oh he’s definitely a little raccoon.” 

Eddie’s lips part in surprise, he looks between you both, “did you just… agree on something?” 

You scoff at his words, turning back around without another word while Steve looks down, shaking his head. The weight of Eddie’s arm around his shoulder makes him look back up, though not at you, but at Eddie, whose eyes are filled with amusement. 

“You’re not trying to steal my girl are you?” 

Steve doesn’t know what is about the words ‘my girl’ but he feels himself clenching his jaw and gritting his teeth. By the tone in Eddie’s voice, he should know that he is only teasing, but apparently his mind isn’t able to comprehend that right now. 

He feels a fire in his chest that he can’t even explain, one that only grows even more intense a few moments later, when a guy who was just leaving the diner, steps aside for you after opening the door. 

Steve can’t see your face or the looks you are giving to the man who is staring you up and down with nothing but hunger in his eyes, but by the way you walk past him without even turning your head or looking back, he knows that you’re giving him nothing. And yet, it doesn’t stop his anger when the guy keeps checking you out, shamelessly, following you with his eyes, a smirk tugging at his lips as he looks at your ass. You’re not even aware of it as it seems and it wouldn’t be the first time. 

Steve saw you at Big Buy’s the other day, you were strolling around the aisles in your cute little dress, throwing food items into your basket, completely unaware of his eyes on you. He couldn’t look away from you… even when everything you did was riling him up, whether it was the way you bend down to reach for something on the lowest shelf, the way you touched your hair or the way your dress was moving by your sides as you walked. As he caught himself staring at you, at your effortless beauty, he knew that he couldn’t be the only one – and his suspicions were confirmed, when he looked into the other aisle only to see another guy, not past his 30s staring at you, something that you weren’t aware of in the slightest. He also caught himself rolling his eyes and clenching his fists… but that’s something that he easily ignored. 

Unlike today, he can’t even help it when he passes the guy who can’t seem to tear his eyes away from you with a deathly glare on his features, feeling anger for how shameless and disrespectful his ogling is, it’s disgusting. 

“Perv,” Eddie mumbles under his breath, glaring the same way Steve does. 

The guy doesn’t even spare them a single glance, moving past them after taking another long… too long look at you before he walks out of the diner. 

Steve and Eddie roll their eyes, following you to the table that you have already picked, completely unaware of what just happened. 

You sit down in the booth, sliding over to the window. You put your sunglasses down on the table and instantly reach for the menu. 

Eddie sits down beside you, while Steve takes the seat across from you. He tries not to look at you, sinking deeper into the leather seats as he reaches for the menu, as well. 

“What are you guys doing afterwards?” Eddie asks. 

“Nothing, just gonna go back home and watch movies or something,” Steve mumbles, peeking over his menu and at you, to find you looking at him already. 

“Perfect, why don’t you two have a little bonding moment and have a movie day together?” Eddie grins, wiggling his brows at the both of you. 

Steve sees the way you scrunch your nose up at his words, scoffing and shaking your head at him like it’s the most ridiculous thing that you have ever heard, like it’s something that you don’t even want to think about. 

“We’re getting along just fine, no need for bonding time.” 

Right. Steve had been so focused on all your teasing, he almost forgot about how much you two are supposed to dislike each other. 

“Exactly,” Steve winks at Eddie, “Blondie and I are doing just fine.”

He looks back at you, his eyes meet yours, you raise your brows at him, smirking as you tilt your head. 

“Are we?” You ask softly as you blink at him. 

Steve leans closer, licking his lips, he opens his mouth to speak but Eddie cuts him off, clapping his hands. 

“Yeah, you are getting along! Now shut your mouths before you start a fight.”

You both snort at the metalhead, leaning back in your seats, neither of you saying a word, you both just look back at your menu’s, focusing on that… for now. 

The busy waitress stops by your table, telling you that she will be back to take your order in a minute, seemingly catching Eddie off guard after placing her hand on his shoulder before she scurries away again. 

He no longer looks at the menu, he finds something more interesting to look at. 

Steve’s eyes flash with amusement as he looks over at his friend, whose eyes are wide and cheeks are red, an awestruck expression all over his face. He can’t help but nudge your foot under the table, tilting his head towards Eddie when you look up with a frown.

You turn to your best friend. Your features soften, eyes flashing with surprise, you bump your shoulder into his, clearing your throat, “hey Ed’s, before you fuck this up again, don’t you want to tell Lego head about what happened?” You ask, snickering. 

Eddie blinks, turning back to you, “h-huh?” 

“You have a man to give you his opinion of what you did wrong.” 

Steve furrows his brows, looking between your amused face and his confused one, when Eddie’s eyes flash with realization and he groans in annoyance. 

“Sweetheart, he’s gonna be on my side.”

“What opinion?” Steve asks. 

You turn back to your menu, scoffing at Eddie and rolling your eyes before you glance at him, “you’ll want to kill him.”

Eddie groans, shaking his head, his curls bouncing a little. 

“You’ll understand, Harrington. You’re a man. She is… looking at it from a feminine side of things.”

Steve gives you a quizzical look, almost laughing at the exasperated look on your face. 

“Alright shoot,” he says to his friend.

Eddie presses his lips together, taking a deep breath before he folds his hand on the table and looks at him with squinted eyes, “okay so, I saw this girl at the hideout yesterday, Jeff told me to go talk to her, you know… so I did. We started talking, she was funny and all that, and you know, I always like to be a little mysterious.” 

You snort, making Eddie roll his eyes again, “shut it, Sweetheart.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“Anyways,” Eddie sighs, glaring at you, “so, when she asked me if I was there with a girl, I just said ‘wouldn’t you like to know?’” 

Steve draws back a little, raising his brows and pursing his lips, looking perplexed. 

“Uh huh..” You murmur, keeping your eyes on Steve. 

“Eddie,” Steve shakes his head, “just uh… did it… what happened then?”

Eddie sighs again, “well, she rolled her eyes and left, but you know, she may not have a sense of humor so… it’s whatever.” 

“Munson, that girl had a sense of humor, you just have a lack of fucking tact,” Steve says, shaking his head at his friend, in pure disbelief. 

Eddie’s jaw drops at his words, while a laugh falls from your lips as you turn to look at your best friend with nothing but satisfaction on your face. 

“Told you.”

“Seriously!?” Eddie gasps, frowning. “Harrington, you were always mean to girls in the past, and you still slept with them!” 

Steve scoffs, shaking his head. 

“That was in high school, Munson! You are a grown up now, why the hell would you do that? Just tell her you were there alone or with friends!” 

Eddie’s jaw drops again, he slumps back in his seat, throwing his hands up. 

“I just thought that a mysterious persona would work better than… you know… bubbly, happy, go lucky guy, desperate to get his dick wet persona…” He whines, “no one wants to fuck me.” 

You giggle, hiding your face behind the menu. 

Steve’s lips curl into a smile, he points a finger at you, “I’m gonna have to agree with Blondie, again, you’re a fucking idiot.” 

“Don’t worry, Eds. I’ll help you,” you say, smiling, “I’ll teach you how to flirt.” 

“How are you gonna do that, Blondie? Do you even know how to flirt?” Steve snorts. 

You may be a tease, a good one at that, but a flirt? No. You’re too rough, too mean, too harsh to be a flirtatious person, you can barely hold a conversation with someone without going off at them about something, you wouldn’t even know where to begin with, unlike him. 

He is a flirty person, he has charm, he knows how to wrap a girl around his finger with just a few simple words. 

He doesn’t know what to expect, but he surely didn’t expect for you to smile at him, to shrug and give him nothing more than a glance that tells him how wrong he is. 

After the waitress comes back to take your order, leaving Eddie a blushing mess, you excuse yourself to the bathroom, only to come back with your hair now free from the scrunchie that kept it together and another coat of gloss on your lips, something that instantly catches Steve’s eyes. 

You place your elbows on the table, putting your chin into your palm, blinking at him innocently. 

The look in your eyes tells him that you’re up to no good, but he can’t look away. He leans closer to the table, licking his lips as he raises his brows at you. Both of you are unaware of Eddie, who is basically drooling over the pretty waitress, too distracted to notice the looks you are giving to each other.

“The waitress, is she from Hawkins? Never seen her in my fucking life,” Eddie murmurs in awe. 

Steve turns his head to look at the woman, a gasp nearly tears from his lips when he feels your foot on his calf and you pull his attention back on you, he stares at you with wide eyes. 

Smirking in satisfaction, you pull your foot back and look down at your nails.

“I-I don’t know, Munson, not familiar.” He stutters without looking away. 

Steve knew that this would happen, that you would tease him in one way or another, but he didn’t know yet, just where you would take this today. 

When your milkshakes arrive at the table, both you and Steve watch Eddie with amusement as he stares up at the blonde waitress, eyes moving back and forth between her face and her chest, not knowing what to look at first. 

His eyes get stuck on the dainty cross necklace around her neck, seemingly growing more intrigued by her, his dark eyes meeting her blue ones. 

Steve narrows his eyes at you, almost laughing when you look at him, at the same time. 

Eddie’s cheeks are even more flushed than before now, his eyes wide, lips parted. The girl presses her lips together, trying not to giggle at the look on his face. 

“Your food will come right up,” she says, looking between you all before her eyes meet Eddie’s again as she takes the last milkshake off the tray, putting it on the table and sliding it towards him. 

He clears his throat, wrapping his fingers around the glass before she can even let go. 

Both you and Steve watch the way she smiles down at Eddie and at the fingers brushing against hers. 

“Thanks, Sweetheart,” he smirks at her, surprising both you and Steve with the confidence in his voice. 

The girl smiles in surprise, before she turns around, walking away from the table but not without giving Eddie another glance, his lips curl into a bigger smirk and he waves his fingers at her.

Your mouth drops and so does Steve’s, both of you, looking at each other again, with stunned and puzzled expressions on your faces.

“Dude,” Steve mumbles, slowly turning to face his friend, “tell me… how did you fuck this up again… at the hideout, I mean?” 

Eddie only looks back when the girl disappears into the kitchen, “the girl at the hideout just wasn’t the right one.”

“Oh, and this one is?” Steve chuckles, pointing his thumb to where the waitress walked off to. 

“Yeah,” Eddie says, dreamily. “She’s so…”

“Hot?” You ask as you reach for your milkshake, grabbing the red and white straw between your thumb and your pointer finger.

“Gorgeous,” he blushes. 

Your lips tug into a smile, you bring your hand up to his face, pinching his cheek, “aw, look at you.” 

He swats your hand away, snorting. 

“I thought you didn’t know how to flirt, you’re doing such a good job, keep it up, Eds.” 

“What can I say, I’m full of surprises,” Eddie winks at you before he looks away, eyes searching for the waitress again. 

“He doesn’t need your help after all,” Steve laughs, tilting his head, “not that you’d be much of a help anyways.” 

You squint your eyes at him, shrugging at his words, and you surprise him with your silence. 

He watches the way you lean forward, placing your elbow on the table as you finally wrap your lips around the straw. Your eyelashes flutter and you tap your red fingernails against the glass, a moan falling from your lips. 

“Mmmh, that’s so good.” 

Steve nearly jumps from his seat, the sound making his stomach flutter, he clenches his fists, staring at you with wide eyes. 

There’s no smirk on your lips, no mischief behind your eyes, nothing but innocence is etched into your features – you’re not even teasing him, it was nothing but a genuine reaction to the sweet drink. And it’s something that frustrates him even more. 

You reach for the maraschino cherry next, popping it into your mouth before you lick the whipped cream off your finger. 

Steve’s breath hitches in his throat, he shifts in his seat, trying to look away from your lips… that are still wrapped around your finger but he can’t, his eyes are stuck, his body is stuck, he can’t move, all that he can do is watch you.

And then, you look towards him, eyes flashing with surprise when you find him staring. He hopes to see you blushing but instead, a smirk tugs at your lips as you release your finger, scooping up some more whipped cream before you bring it up to your lips. 

And this is where the real teasing begins. 

Steve nearly gasps when you hold eye contact this time as you lick the cream off your fingers, letting out another, softer moan. 

Holy fuck. 

Steve’s eyes darken, he swallows harshly, clenching his jaw in anger. 

Eddie is too busy with his own milkshake, ogling the waitress as she talks to customers at the bar, completely unaware of how you both eyefuck each other, the way Steve can’t take his eyes off of you. 

By the look in your eyes, Steve knows how much fun you’re having with this, you know how much it frustrates him, you know what you’re doing to him. 

And as though, all of this wasn’t bad enough already. You then accidentally drop some of the whipped cream on your chest. 

“Oops,” you purr, giving him an innocent look through your lashes. 

The warmth in his chest only grows more intense, spreading across his whole body, filling him up with need and a deep hunger that keeps growing and growing, one that can only be satiated in one way – he needs you, just once, he needs to have you, he needs to taste you, he needs to fuck you, he needs you out of his system for good. 

He had enough of this, of all this teasing. 

He would fuck you right there on this table if he could.

But, despite your teasing, despite the look in your eyes, despite your little act, he is still not sure about where you stand. He knows how you react to his touches, to his teasing, but a part of him fears rejection if he does make a move. 

You are barely even friends, and the thought of making a fool of himself, in front of you, makes him want to crawl into a hole. 

You are both playing this game, but while he knows what he wants, he doesn’t know what you want. 

Maybe you just enjoy this little back and forth, waiting for him to break first before you move along and pretend like nothing ever happened. Maybe you don’t even expect anything to come out of this. Maybe you don’t even want him the way he wants you. Maybe you just like to tease him because you know that it's riling him up. 

So what is left for him to do? 

Stop this game and move on? Or… keep going and wait for something more to happen? 

He’s had enough of your teasing, but he’s far from losing, there is still some power left in him… some. 

He won’t sit here and let you get away with this. 

So despite the uncomfortable strain in his pants, despite the burning in his skin, he plasters a smirk on his blushing face and reaches forward, keeping his eyes locked with yours as he mimics you, he grabs his glass and he reaches for the cherry on his milkshake, purposely dropping some whipped cream on the table as he puts the cherry in his mouth. He chews slowly, licking his finger tips while he watches you slowly, the way your smile slowly falls, the way your eyes widen a little. 

He bites back the smirk as he scoops up the whipped cream off the table, with both his middle finger and ring finger, bringing them up to his lips, he looks back into your wide eyes as he places them into his mouth, watching the way you break eye contact to look at his lips. 

Your throat bobs as you swallow, tightening your grip on your glass as you watch the way he licks his fingers slowly. 

He can see the way you shift in your seat, the way your breathing gets heavier and your eyes darken, the way you lick your lips and how flustered you get as you look back into his eyes. 

You are pressing your thighs together, he just knows you are. 

He pulls his fingers out of his mouth, smirking at you in satisfaction while you still sit there, frozen in place. He breaks eye contact, looking down at his vanilla milkshake as though nothing happened.

“You gotta give this one a ride home, Harrington,” Eddie mumbles, pointing at you without tearing his eyes away from the bar, “I think I’m gonna stay here a little longer.”

You clear your throat. 

Steve expects you to be more… nervous, to hear your voice wavering, but instead, it sounds confident, filled with yet more teasing as you open your mouth to speak. 

“Oh, I would love a ride home with Stevie,” you smile at him innocently as your foot touches his calf again, but this time, it doesn’t just stay there, you move it up, just a little, but enough to nearly make him choke on his drink. 

“So you can keep getting on his nerves?” Eddie chuckles. 

You lick your lips, smirking as you nod your head slowly, “exactly.”

Yeah, you don’t really do this anymore, getting on each other’s nerves, you both have found something so much better and much more interesting to do to one another. 

“You know I always win, Blondie,” Steve says so very confidently, like he isn’t slowly losing his mind because his want for you is beginning to consume him entirely. 

You tilt your head at him as you bite your lip, the sleeve of your blouse slowly sliding down your shoulder, making him gulp. 

“Do you?” You ask, batting your lashes at him, provoking him with the look on your face. 

He bites the insides of his cheeks, nodding at your words, “mhmm.”

A breathy chuckle falls from your lips, you shrug and lean back, “we’ll see.”

Eddie doesn’t know that you’re talking about something entirely else now, but he couldn’t care less, when he’s got his eyes set on someone that stole his breath away. 

He uses every second he gets with the pretty waitress to flirt, whether it’s through glances when she passes by or through his charming words when she delivers the food to the table. 

He happily eats his burger and his fries, eyes following the blonde wherever she goes, completely blind to what’s happening right next to and in front of him. 

You and Steve keep staring at one another, eyes filled with intense need, hands itching to reach out to the other. 

Steve feels the longing inside his chest, intensifying as the minutes go by, driving him insane. It gets to a point where he can’t wait to get the hell out of this diner so he can go home and take care of himself. He is not sure if he had ever felt this desperate before – he surely never had to rush home to jerk off, but that’s what he feels like now, like he’s going to explode if he sits here any longer. 

The moment you decide on leaving, Steve nearly throws himself out of his seat, feeling no patience left inside of him. 

“I got this covered,” Eddie announces, pulling out his wallet as he gets out of the booth so you can get out, “you two can go.” 

You grab your sunglasses and get up, putting your hand on Eddie’s shoulder, “I see what you’re trying to do, you wanna get rid of us so you can flirt with the hot blonde.” 

He wiggles his brows, smirking at you proudly, “gotta score a date with my dream girl.” 

Steve chuckles, grabbing the car keys from his pocket, he smirks at Eddie, “just don’t mess it up again.” 

Eddie shakes his head, “nah never.” 

“Alright casanova, call me and tell me how it went.” 

“Call you?” He frowns, “I’ll be there to raid your kitchen tonight, sweets.” 

You step away from him, brushing past Steve, “alright raccoon, I’ll see you later then.” 

“See ya,” he chuckles. 

With a sigh, Steve looks at Eddie, playing with his keys and giving him a nod. 

“Good luck, man.”

“Thanks,” Eddie winks, “and don’t kill each other!” He jokes, ignoring the weird looks he’s given from an older couple two booths away. 

“Don’t worry, we’re not at that point anymore.” 

You’re at a whole different point now, one that doesn’t make him angry, not exactly, just one that drives him up the wall. 

Steve stares at your hips, at the way your shorts hug your body so nicely, the way your ass looks so good in them. He forces his eyes away, feeling a little startled when you turn around to face him before you open the door, a friendly smile appears on your face and he realizes that you aren’t looking at him, but at Eddie’s ‘dream girl’, waving goodbye at the girl before you step out. 

He feels the sudden need to talk, hoping that you won’t tease him any further in the car, because if you do, he isn’t sure if he will manage to control himself the way he did, the whole time at the diner. 

He rubs the back of his neck, walking down the steps, he clears his throat. 

“Do you think he will manage to score a date?”

You slow down as you put your sunglasses on, “yeah, I’m pretty sure he will.”

Steve chuckles, nodding. 

“She seems nice, and she’s pretty,” you say.

So are you. Steve thinks to himself. 

“She’s got the kind of blonde hair you wanted when you ruined your hair with the blonde dye, huh?”

Steve can’t see your eyes behind your sunglasses, but he can see the amused look on your features as your lips curl into a smile. 

He ignores the way it feels when you step closer to him, when your hand brushes against his knuckles, sending chills throughout his whole body. 

“Actually, I wanted it even lighter, and how would I know that the pictures on the box dye were lies, it said it lightens up any hair color to that specific color!” 

Steve laughs at you, “what color were you hoping for?” 

You shrug, stepping away from him again when you walk around his car to the passenger side. 

“I wanted like a Dolly Parton or uh… Heather Locklear kind of blonde.” 

He unlocks the car and opens his door, raising his brows at you, “wow, you should have gone to a hair salon, Blondie.”

You lift your sunglasses, rolling your eyes at him, “it was a spontaneous decision, I thought I could handle that myself, I’m definitely never touching hair dye again.”

“Just call me, next time,” he winks at you as he gets into the car, “I’m a pro at doing hair.” 

You laugh at him as you get in as well, “didn’t know you were a hairdresser, Harrington.” 

“They don’t call me ‘the hair’ for nothing.” 

“Oh wow. I wouldn’t trust you with my hair, who knows what color you’d dye my hair to.”

“Maybe I’d get it to the Dolly Parton blonde that you wanted.” 

“Yeah, right!” You scoff at him, “cause you’re such an expert!” 

A smile tugs at his lips, it almost feels normal, sitting here in his car with you, talking like this, it almost distracts him enough from the strong tension between you both, from the pull that is dragging him towards you, more and more. 

Despite the frustration that he feels from all your teasing, he cannot help but want to keep playing the little game. 

The sun is shining brightly, pulling down the sun visor won’t be enough – how convenient it is that he keeps his sunglasses in the glove compartment. He could ask you to get them but instead, he moves closer, “I’m sorry,” he murmurs before he places his hand on your knee as he reaches forward so he can get his ray-ban’s. 

Satisfaction rushes through him when he hears you sucking in a sharp breath. 

But, his longing intensifies when he gets a whiff of your perfume and feels how soft your skin actually is. 

He clearly never thinks things through, his little plans always backfire. 

The want to wrap his hand around your thigh and keep it there is so strong… so goddamn strong, but he pulls away begrudgingly, holding back the smirk when he feels your eyes on him. He puts the sunglasses on, and finally starts the car. 

Your silence surprises him, but he knows that it’s something that won’t stay for long. 

Hungry Like The Wolf by Duran Duran starts playing and Steve almost wants to laugh at the irony, this is exactly what he feels like right now, hungry like a fucking wolf, hungry for you. 

If you had been any other girl, he would’ve made a move on you, a long long time ago. He would have flirted more obviously, he would’ve taken your hand in his, he would’ve brushed your hair out of your face before leaning in to kiss you.

But you’re not just any girl, you’re… you. 

You love this little game, and no matter how flustered you get, no matter the looks you are giving him, he still struggles to read you, he still struggles to figure out whether you want what he wants or not. 

He is waiting for a sign, but it’s almost like he’s blind to anything you give to him. 

He holds the steering wheel tightly, keeping his other hand on the gearstick, dangerously close to your thigh. He keeps sneaking glances at you, at your soft skin, at the way you press your legs together, at the way your fingers play with the loose string on your shorts. 

Steve’s face grows hot, his heart beating faster in his chest. 

He almost feels relieved when your house comes into view, and he pulls up into your driveway. 

“So… what are you doing today?” You ask as you unbuckle your seatbelt, “besides having a movie day by yourself.” 

You turn your body towards him, not making any moves to get out of the car yet. 

“Uh… I don’t know,” he lies, his cheeks glowing red. 

He already knows what he’s gonna do the moment he walks through his front door. 

You take your sunglasses off, biting your lip as your eyes move up and down his body, making him shift uncomfortably, yet again. 

“Well, I’m going to lay out in the sun, in my new red bikini.” 

Steve’s eyes widen, and he almost starts drooling at the images that start forming in his mind. 

Images of you… half naked. 

“We should have a pool party at some point,” you smile, blinking at him as you start inching closer to him, looking down at his lips. 

“Uh huh…”

“But anyways, I should get going,” you sigh, catching him by surprise when you place your hand on his thigh, so dangerously close to where he needs you the most, “thanks for the ride, Stevie.” 

And as though that wasn’t bad enough. 

You almost cause his heart to stop beating, when your face is only inches away from him now, and you press your lips against his cheek, kissing him, completely shocking him, leaving him a stuttering mess. 

He lost all ability to speak, all he can do is stare at you, as his skin tingles and his heart races. 

You smirk at him, eying his red cheeks. 

“Who would’ve thought that Steve Harrington would ever blush for me,” you say smugly, before you pull away and get out of the car, giggles falling from your lips. Without another word, you close the door and walk away, looking over your shoulder one more time, still giggling. 

Fuck. 

His frustration turns into anger when the realization starts creeping in slowly. 

The smug look on your face, the smirk and your stupid giggles prove his point, that you did all of this not because you wanted him, but because you wanted to win this fucking game. 

That’s all it is, that’s all it ever was. 

A game. 

He doesn’t know what the feeling in his chest is, whether it’s the feeling of annoyance or rejection, but it only irritates him even further, especially when all he can think about is still you. 

You in your stupid red bikini, lying under the sun, looking pretty and hot… looking like someone he can never have, not even for a single night. 

He is angry, angry at himself for still wanting you, for needing you, for wishing that he could feel your bare body underneath him, for wishing to hear your moans, your voice calling out his name, your hands clinging to his body, fingers tugging at his hair. 

Despite the rejection, he feels his stupid jeans getting tighter, his dick straining against the fabric, making him feel uncomfortable and so needy to a point that the moment he gets home, he rushes upstairs and into the bathroom. 

He slams the door shut and presses his back against it, hastily unbuckling his belt, the clinking and his heavy breathing being the only sounds to fill the room… for now. He pushes down his boxers and his pants, just enough so he can pull his dick out – his tip is an angry red, already leaking with pre cum, he spits into his hand before he wraps his hand around his aching cock. 

That is all that it takes for a needy whimper to fall from his lips. 

He closes his eyes, throwing his head back against the door as he starts jerking off slowly. 

Images of you curse and bless his mind at the same time. 

He wonders what it would be like to feel your hand around his dick or what it would be like to feel your lips on his neck, your whispers in his ear as you take care of him. 

He furrows his brows, lips parting as his moans get louder and he begins to move his hand faster and faster, squeezing his eyes shut. 

He pictures you on your knees for him, your hands replaced by your lips as he shuts you up with his cock in your mouth, silencing you once and for all, while tears stream down your cheeks.

“Oh fuck…” Steve whimpers, getting lost in pleasure. 

He wanted nothing more than to bend you over the table when you started teasing him with the stupid whipped cream, but all he can think about now is you on your knees worshiping him. 

His muscles tighten as he increases the tempo, using his thumb to rub the slit as he imagines it being the tip of your tongue as you look at him with big and teary eyes. 

And he doesn’t know for how long he was imagining you like this, but it doesn’t matter because he is soon spilling in his hand, a loud groan escaping his lips as well as a shaky breath, the back of his head hitting the door as he tries to ease his breathing. 

Maybe three minutes passed, or twenty, but it didn’t matter. His cum is already on his hand and in your honor. 

But this didn’t satiate his hunger, nor his lust for you in the slightest. 

Nothing that he could possibly do will. 

He can imagine you and take care of himself all he wants, but it won’t change the way he wants you, the way he craves you. 

He knows that there is only one way to get rid of this.

Tomorrow he will put his frustration away. That’s all it is, frustration. He just needs to let it out. He needs to fucking breathe again. 

Yeah. Tomorrow. 

♡

tagging friends and mutuals

@taintedcigs @mysticmunson @wroteclassicaly @maroon-cardigan @munson-mjstan @sherrylyn628 @munsonlore @ibellcipem @joekeerysmoles

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington smut #steve harrington angst #stranger things angst

[mj0702]

The other Bronze – Pt.8

Okay... this is the last Barça part for now (hold your pitchforks - we will get back to Barcelona in the future)

I feel different about this chapter since there's less chaos and more feels but I still hope you like it❤️

I can't put into words how much I appreciate all your support especially @samkerrworshipper and @valewosomtb but also all you anons like my lunatic and gold star ❤️❤️ now go and enjoy 11k of Bronzeness

As soon as Keira and you entered her flat she retreated to the kitchen letting you standing in the hallway

“You need help Kei?” you asked knowing full well she'll decline since you got banned from kitchen duty after you nearly cut off your hand when you wanted to help her and Lucy one night (back in the day back in england) and the night ended in hospital

“You already know the answer to that, Bitsy... go shower...” you heard her yelling back as you heard pots clatter

“I showered at the Beach... with the sexy spaniard” you said now moved to stand in the kitchen entrance

“And then you went to have your little outbreak in the Sea... believe me... you'll want to shower or you'll wake up in the middle of the night itching and scratching your skin off... and I swear to god if you wake me up at 2AM because you decide it would be a good time to shower I'll have your head” the blonde englishwoman answered measuring some stuff for your requested Shepherds pie

“But I don't have my shower stuff here and yours is so... flowery” you whined

“Your choice Bitsy... but I really will have your head if you wake me up in the middle of the night...” Keira looked at you raising an eyebrow in challenge

“Ugh” you huffed pushing yourself of the doorframe as you dragged yourself towards her bathroom

“Good choice” you heard the blonde yelling after you and you could hear the smirk in her voice

“Good choice” you imitated her under your breath “I'm gonna smell like a fucking field of poppies”

After 20 Minutes you cracked opened the door of the bathroom a little bit to yell for Keira

“Keira???!!!” you yelled loudly so she would hear you in the kitchen

“What?” she yelled back and you could hear a nuance of annoyance in her voice

“I forgot clothes” you yelled as Keira stayed in the kitchen and you didn't want to leave the bathroom in your (her) towel

“Ugh kid... I still don't know how you survive without me constantly around” she said as she came out of the kitchen walking down the hall to get you some clothes

“I have a good system of supporting people around me... I refer to them as my cult” you said as she passed you “they make sure I don't die – they're too scared of you”

“I bet... let me guess... Mary, Millie, Rachel, Tooney and Russo?” Keira rolled her eyes knowing you have basically all her lionesses teammates wrapped around your pinkie and if you just look at them with HALF a puppy eye they all scramble to grant you every wish

“And Hempo and Meado and Scotto and Viv and Daan and Greensie and ChloChlo and Leila and Guerrero and Stina and Lia and Kimmi and...” you counted on your fingers smirking as Keira made her way back to you some shorts and a shirt in her hand

“God... you really always get whatever you want” she rolled her eyes but a smile tugged on her lips

“Not everything... otherwise you'd be a Bronze” you shrugged your shoulders as you took the pieces of clothing out of her hand and shut the door

“Don't do that Bitsy...” Keira sighed against the door “... it's not your fault”

“But it feels like it” you answered from inside the bathroom fighting with your balance as you tried to get into the shorts but struggled since you suddenly were overcome with a wave of dizziness

“It's not... stop telling yourself that... it just happened Bitsy...” Keira answered softly as she heard a crashing sound from the inside “You okay Bits?” she asked a little concerned

“All good” you said quickly picking yourself up from inside the shower you fell backwards into “Got stuck on the shorts”

“Dear jesus chirst kid.... I swear you're so clumsy at this point it's more luck than sanity that you're still alive...” the blonde huffed out

You tried to stand up again only to find the room spinning again so you decided to do something you hated doing

“Kei help please....” you said your voice low

Keira knew that when you actually asked for help it was a serious matter so she quickly pushed the door open to find you sitting in the shower back against the tiles

“What's wrong Bits?” she asked concerned crouching down in front of you

“Room's spinning” you mumbled

“You have a headache too?” the blonde asked already knowing what's wrong with you

“Little bit...” you answered honestly

“You have a sunstroke Bits...” Keira smiled lightly “Not used to the spanish sun...”

“Is not fun” you mumbled trying to contain the nausea

“Come on Bits...” the blonde huffed pulling you up into a standing position but keeping a good hold of you “... you gonna lay down on the couch and rest okay...” she said before leading you back into the livening room minus the shorts so you were just in your boxers and a sports bra

“My shorts” you whined

“First... these are MY shorts and secondly... you don't need shorts.. it's just me” Keira said softly before deposing you on the couch “Gonna bring you some water okay”

“Kei...” you whined “... I'm not feeling good”

“I know Bitsy... I know” the blonde sighed before getting you the promised water

“Why am I feeling sick?” you whined turning onto your side

“Sunstroke Bitsy... drink some water... it'll help I promise” Keira said lovingly as she stroke softly through your hair

You carefully took small sips of water as Keira decided to sit down by your head her hand never leaving your face. Softly stroking through your hair, over your forehead or caressing your cheek smiling softly as you continue to whine about how bad you felt

“Take a nap Bitsy.... that'll help too” the blonde englishwoman spoke lowly as she saw your eyes dropping

“You not mad anymore?” you asked half asleep

“I was never mad Bitsy... I was scared” Keira said softly “You mean the world to me, Bitsy and alone the thought of loosing you without being able to do anything scared me – really scared me”

“You mean the world to me too Kei... you're always there” you sighed as Keira started to lightly scratch your scalp

“I've seen you grow up Bits... you fought so many battles and still grew into an amazing person I can't nor do I want to imagen a world without you in it... you have so much more to explore and offer and seeing you out there... without anyone responsible near it squeezed all air out of my lungs Bits... you really can't do things like that” you heard the crack in her voice at the end and force your eyes open again.

Even with your blurred eyesight you could make out Keiras tears

“Kei...” you said lowly waiting for her to look at you “... nothing's gonna happen to me... the stupid always have the luck on their side... so I'm safe... won't leave you Kei... you're my sister too you know... and most of the time you're the better sister.. I love Luce really love her – but I love you just as much because I know you're always there for me... I promise I won't leave you Kei...”

“You can't promise something like this Bitsy... because if you ever break this promise I'm gonna break... not only are you like a sister to me, you are basically my child...” Keira said her voice heavy

“I never broke a promise with you” you said your voice insisted looking her straight in the eye “I never did and I never will...”

“I need you to PROMISE me to start thinking before you do things Bits...” the blonde said and you knew you would never EVER break that promise

“I promise...” you just answered and Keira could hear the honesty in your voice “But you need to promise to never leave me”

“I promise Bitsy... wherever I end up either in my career or afterwards... I'll be always there for you” Keira said softly

“Good... because let's be honest if I have to live of Luces cooking I'm gonna be gone pretty quickly because of food poisoning” you said as a matter of fact

“She got better... she doesn't burn the pasta anymore...” Keira smiled through her tears

“Kei... she was meant to BOIL the pasta... she's the only person I know who burns pasta in cooking water!!!! And she stuffed fish-fingers in a toaster and nearly burned our flat down!!” you exclaimed bewildered

“I know... she had some... questionable ideas” Keira tried to find the right words

“She has shit ideas when it comes to cooking,... I mean who thinks it's a good idea to serve RAW fish” you exclaimed loudly

“To her defence... sushi is raw fish” the blonde said

“WHEN IT'S FRESH IT IS.... this... thing was probably a week old... and on top of that she KNOWS I hate fish” you couldn't contain your outburst

“Fish is good...” Keira smiled knowing just how much you despise it

“Nope... nuh-uh.... it's disgusting... it normally looks at you when served...” you shook your head which reminded you immediately of your nausea again “Uh... wrong move” you mumbled

“Oh Bitsy...” the blonde sighed putting her hand against your forehead “You're burning up... I'll get you some paracetamol and then you'll have a nap... if you feel up to it later we can eat a little bit and then off to bed you scramble”

“Ugh please no paracetamol” you whined

“Ah yeah... I always forget that you always get sick from paracetamol... Aspirin it is then...” the blonde said pitiful as she softly stroke over your forehead experienced first hand before how bad a sunstroke feels

“Can I call G?” you whined miserable

“Of course Bitsy... why are you asking?” Keira asked confused

“Didn't know if you'd be a fan of me calling her... Lucy is not a fan” you mumbled your eyes already dropping again

“Lucy is very much a fan... but more and foremost she's your sister... she swore to protect you Bitsy” the blonde chuckled getting her phone from the side table dialling Georgias number

“Hey best friend... what gives me the unwanted pleasure of you calling me?” Georgias happy voice came out of the speaker and you could hear the smile in her voice

“You really milking that best friend card since Leah is out” Keira deadpanned but couldn't help but smile too

“I mean... I take what I can get...” the younger blonde said grinning “But seriously... what can I help you with”

“Not me.... but you could help your girlfriend out” Keira chuckled

“Ehrm... while you're there?” Georgia asked unsure and you could just picture how her cheeks flush and she rubbed the back of her neck

“Dear jesus... not like that” Kei exclaimed “What is wrong with you??”

“I haven't seen her in WEEKS, Kei... WEEKS...” the younger blonde insistent

“I don't CARE” Keira said back just as insistent

“G” you whispered exhausted

“Hey baby” immediately your girlfriends voice changed into a soft caring low tone

Keira left to finally get the shepherds pie into the oven but still was listening to your conversation with one and a half ear

“Not feeling good” you whispered

“What happened baby...” Georgia asked softly

“Parrently M not used to sun” you mumbled

“You're english... of course we're not used to sun...” your girlfriend chuckled lightly “... what you need from me baby?”

“Just talk... M sleepy” you mumbled your speaking slurred with sleep

“Usual topics?” Georgia double checked softly

“Mhm” you mumbled confirming

“Okay... sooooo... I kinda overslept this morning... but just like... 20 Minutes – still made it to training in time but I couldn't stop at that little bakery.. you know the one on the corner with the colourful dotty thingies on the windows... but I'll make sure to stop there tomorrow again...” Georgia began to lowly tell you about her day with all the little details as you slipped into a peaceful slumber

As your girlfriend heard your even breathing she stopped talking for a second before asking

“Keira?”

“Yes?” the blonde answered

“She asleep?” Georgia asked already knowing the answer

“What do you really want to ask, G? What's on your mind?” Keira chuckled

“How mad is Lucy?” your girlfriend mumbled concerned

“Lucy isn't mad... she's protective... I can promise you deep down inside she's relieved it's you... you're a good person, G and Luce knows that... and I'm happy it's you – because let's be real for a second... any girl Bitsy would have brought home would run for the hills after a “talk” from Lucy Bronze – you can handle that just fine. So Lucy isn't mad... but you're dating her baby sister... she swore to protect her no matter what since the moment she found out y/n will be a girl... and she waited 16 years to give someone “The Talk”... so she'll act all overprotective and threatening and what not but in secret she's happy for the two of you... just let her waltz over you with her “If you're hurting her”-talk and smile politely” Keira said knowing G needs some reassurance right now “Just... don't kiss her in front of Lucy right away... baby sister and all that”

“No kissing got it” G repeated nodding her head – even if no one could see it

“I didn't said no kissing... I said no kissing in front of Luce” the blonde corrected her younger friend

“Isn't that the same thing?” Georgia asked confused

“Gosh G... get creative... didn't YOU tell me about 30 minutes ago you haven't seen your girl for weeks” Keira huffed out as she left the living room with her phone to check on the shepherds pie

“I mean... yeah... but that would involve a lot more than kissing” G answered and Keira could hear her embarrassment

“I love you G, I really do... but I won't cover for you or get Lucy of your backs.... just saying” the blonde said as she pulled dinner out of the oven

“Can we not... talk about that... maybe?” your girlfriend asked even more embarrassed

“We're grown ups, G... we can talk about sex” Keira rolled her eyes before speaking to herself “Do I wake you up Bitsy or not?”

“Why do you want to wake her up? I literally just put her to sleep” Georgia ignored the first part and just jumped on the you-waggon

“She should eat... but as you said... she just fell asleep...” Keira mumbled looking over to your sleeping form

“Wake her... I still got time so I can bore her to sleep again” G said happily

“How often do you talk anyway?” Keira asked finding it quiet endearing how your relationship blossomed and she was very grateful that she was one of the first (if not the first) to witness it

“You mean like now? Or texting?” your girlfriend asked

“Like now.... you immediately knew what she needed – it's cute” the blonde grinned

“Every Day... even when I have games we make time... if it's just five minutes” Georgia said and Keira could hear how important it was for the younger girl

“Didn't peck you as a routine girl, G” Keira teased her friend

“It's important to her....” your girlfriend answered and her voice showed nothing but love for you.

“God G... you sound like your neck deep in love” the blonde chuckled but was met with silence from the other end

“G??” Keira asked kinda bewildered

“Yeah... still there” the younger one mumbled ashamed

“Talk to me G” the blonde encouraged her

“I know it sounds stupid but... god Kei I do love her... I know we haven't dated for long but... I can see her as my forever... I know it's early to say something like that but it feels so different with her... good different...” Georgia tried to put her feelings into word

“Calm down G... it's okay.. it's just me... honestly... I can see it too – you shouldn't say anything like that to Luce tho... at least not for the next... 10.... no... 25 years” Keira said softly and tried to lighten the mood a little bit

“It just... it scares me a little bit I never felt like this about anyone” Georgia explained

“G... if you know, you know... and it's okay to get scared or overwhelmed... but you need to talk to someone – ideally with y/n but you can always talk to me too... keep communicating” the blonde said trying to calm her friend down

“I just never felt like this... like... she's my air you know... god I sound so cheesy... but when I look at her nothing else matters... when she smiles it's like getting hit with a truck and Kei.... when she laughs... it's the most beautiful sound in the world” your girlfriend said and Keira could just HEAR the love

“Tell her G... tell her that every day... because even if they always act so tough... both of them Bronzes need to hear things like that” Keira said softly

“How do you know?” Georgia asked confused

“And she's back” the blonde rolled her eyes “Why do all of you always forget that I dated a Bronze.... for YEARS”

“Ah yeah... you dated the other Bronze” your girlfriend laughed

“Technically I dated the one Bronze... you date the other Bronze” Keira said

Suddenly there was a crashing sound from the living room followed by a whined “Keira” and Keira groaned

“She fell of the couch again?” Georgia asked knowingly

“Yep.... catch you later G... I have to go aid your girlfriend” the blonde huffed

“Tell her I love her, yeah” your girlfriend said hopefully

“Will do... see you in a few days in Camp G... and G” Keira said

“Yeah?”

“You're good for her... Lucy will see this too... so don't let Luce push you around... stand up for your relationship” the blonde said and her voice had a loving tone

“Thanks Kei... I mean it” your girlfriend answered honesty

“KEIRAAAAA” you whined from the floor of the living room

“COMING... jesus...” the blonde yelled back “See you in a few day G...” she said before ending the call

“What happened there Bitsy, hm?” the blonde asked you as she knelt down beside you

“Fell off” you mumbled

“I see that” Keira chuckled “You want to go back to sleep or eat a little bit”

“Shepherds pie?” you asked your eyes shining hopefully

“Waiting in the Kitchen” the blonde smiled as she pulled you up by your good wrist “After that you go straight to bed, do you hear me?”

“Yeah mom” you mumbled and Keira noticed you're definitely still asleep

Keira basically had to feed you since you nearly face planted into your plate several times before she dragged you back to her guestroom. As usual you didn't want to sleep alone so you just started to whine until the blonde gave in once again leading you towards her bedroom. You were dead asleep the second your head hit the pillow so Keira just threw a blanket over you and went back to the living room after she cleaned the kitchen and started packing for her (hopefully) call-up to national camp. Just as Kei was halfway through her packing her phone rang and Lucys name showed up on the display

“What can I do for you ex?” she grinned into the phone as she locked her phone in between her ear and shoulder to have her hands free

“Hello to you too other mother of my princess... Bubs around?” Lucy shot back but Keira knew she wasn't serious

“OUR princess, ex...” the blonde corrected grinning “Nope... your sister is dead to the world in my bed”

“I KNEW there was something going on... G is just a cover, innit?” Lucy exclaimed and faked being shocked

“Oh no... you figured us out” Keira answered monotonous and pausing for a second before starting to chuckle “What you need from her? Not that I could get her up anyway but I'm sure she'll be up at some point in the night”

“I actually need YOU” Lucy mused and Keira heard the slight begging undertone

“Oh my Luce... I thought we were past the sex with the ex act... does Ona know what you're proposing right now?” the blonde just couldn't give up such an opportunity to tease her ex girlfriend

“Oh my god... no... not for that... that front is very well covered thank you very much...” your sister stuttered shocked which caused Keira to start laughing “I need you to bring y/n with you to training tomorrow...”

“That's a given” Keira rolled her eyes “You think I'm gonna leave her out of my sight after the stunt she pulled today?”

“... as fast asleep as possible” Lucy finished her sentences ignoring Keiras interruption

“She definitely outgrown the dino-harness...” the blonde said knowing exactly what Lucy was planning

“I... modified it?” your sister said slowly

“Modified it?” Keira asked confused

“The buckle just works like I belt... so I strapped a belt into the buckle so it would fit...” Lucy said reluctantly

“She will throw a whole ass tantrum you know that right... and you want me to get involved as well” the blonde said warningly

“I know... but come on Kei... she proved today that she actually is not grown up enough to be left to her own devices...” your sister huffed out

“Did it accrue to you that she actually IS grown up enough and she just lets her guard down around you because she knows you're the only person in the entire world that will always be in her corner no matter what... I mean... except for me” Keira said and she knew she hit a nerve when there was no come back from the other end of the line

“I was scared Kei” Lucy admitted her voice low

“I know... I was scared too Luce... but she's growing up... you have to let her make mistakes” the blonde sighed knowing it was so hard to let you off the (imaginary) leash

“I know... but let me have my moment tomorrow.. I'm taking the blame... tell her you didn't knew” Lucy begged a little bit

“If she doesn't talk to you for weeks don't come to me crying” Keira warned “You have a girlfriend for that now... not my problem anymore”

“Deal... but I promise I'll get in her good books at end of training again” your sister said and Kei could hear her grin

“Do I want to know?? I feel a headache forming” the blonde mumbled

“I'll let her drive my Cupra... we just need to wait long enough till the parking lot is empty” your sister said excited thinking she could fulfil a wish for you

“Oh Luce” Keira sighed

“I know... she's going to be so happy” Lucy could hardly contain her excitement

“Oh you have no idea” the blonde tried to warn her friend without saying too much

What Lucy of course didn't knew was that Jill (Scott), Millie and Rachel gifted you 10 driving lessons for your birthday – but not just driving lessons they were stunt driving lessons. Of course it was mostly courtesy of Jill who knew a guy who knew a guy who knew a guy. So while your sister was under the dreamy impression that she would make you happy being the first one who's letting you drive (even if it was kinda illegal) you perfected the art of drifting, donuts and race gear shifting. And of course how to use the breaks – you weren't completely stupid. But it was the second best present this day. Jill even went so far in buying you race driver shoes – like formula one shoes.

“So you bring her in tomorrow?” Lucy asked hopefully

“Asleep as possible... I'll get her to Nuo around 8... you better be there and get her in that harness before she interacts with Mapí because that will kick-start her” Keira sighed again knowing tomorrow will be an absolute disaster.

“Thanks Kei” your sister said happily “I'll wait in front of the locker room for you”

“You owe me Luce...” the blonde replied

“What do you want?” Lucy asked interested

“I want to have Narla over Christmas” Keira said

“Hard bargain there, Walsh... but okay... but I get her new years” your sister huffed out

“Okay... 8 o'clock locker room.. if you're late I'll let Mapí talk to her” the blonde threatened playfully

“Aye woman...” Lucy answered and Keira could just picture how she put her hand up to a mock salute

“Hate you” the blonde grinned

“No you don't.... see you tomorrow Kiewa” your sister answered using a stupid nickname you once tried to get spread through national team

Keira just hung up continuing to pack some shirts before she called it a night too. She carefully entered her bedroom to find you still dead asleep but you moved to her side your nose pressed deep into her pillow

“Why can't you always be so sweet?” the blonde mumbled lowly a slight smile on her lips

As if you heard her you started to snore – very lightly which caused Keira to laugh quietly before laying down on your other side. Just like always you immediately noticed the “intruder” as you turned around still asleep as you cuddled up to Keiras side

“Bitsy come on.. wake up... we're leaving in five” Keira shook you awake next morning

“Nooooo...” you whined sleepily turning away from her “... five more minutes”

“We're leaving in five, Bitsy... come on... up and at em” the blonde didn't give up “Up... now... teeth, clothes, car” she said sternly

“Kei... nooooo” you whined trying to get away from her shaking

“Up NOW Bitsy” the blonde got even more firm – which she hated herself for

“Yeah okay... I'm up” you grumbled as you stumbled out of bed and into the bathroom

Exactly 5 minutes later you stood at the door where Keira was waiting for you impatiently. You had your shirt on backwards, Barcelona training kit shorts which were slightly too big for you and a England bucket hat on your head

“Is that my bucky?” the blonde asked confused

“Couldn't find anything else and I'm NOT sitting in the sun today... learned my lesson” you mumbled and Keira noticed how grumpy you were

“Come on Bitsy... I'll get you coffee at Camp Nuo” the blonde said hoping to get your spirits up just a little bit – at this point you'd probably rip Lucys throat apart with your teeth if she'd touch you and buckle you up in the harness. She decided to give Lucy a warning which your sister replied with a thumbs up

“Kay” you mumbled as you stumbled towards Keiras car

23 Minutes later you arrived at Camp Nuo and Keira manoeuvres you expertly through the long hallways

“Jesus... bet some people died in here trying to find a toilet” you grumbled as Keira pushed you around another corner which caused the blonde to chuckle behind you her hand never leaving the small of your back

“Not so bad once you figured it out... you were here before, you know.. you just were very VERY high... Alexia lost you twice – not that your sister knows but still... Capi needed to confine someone” Keira laughed

“I actually don't know... I was high... I know NOTHING from that day” you grumbled as you spotted your sister waiting in front of a door that looked just like the 500 doors you already passed.

“Bon dia Bubs” your sister smiled warmly

“Bon fuck yourself” you grumbled while you walked passed her thinking you need to keep going as Lucy grabbed your shirt to pull you back

“Locker room is this way” she said not letting you get to her nerves as you outright sweared at her.

Next thing you knew was that you were buckled up in something and as you looked down you spotted the familiar face of Bronzo the Bronto (courtesy of Dszenifer who thought it would be funny to name your dino-harness Bronzo). Before your brain could even recognise what just happened you heard Lucy victorious chuckle “Still got it”

“Wha... Wha... Wait what??” you stuttered as you tried to comprehend what just happened

“It's okay Bubs... just want you to be save” Lucy said lowly knowing this could go two ways. Either you accept it since you haven't even had coffee yet OR you could completely explode.

Your brain choose option two for you and you just started to sprint. Your sister didn't see that coming she was more prepared for you to attack her directly so you got a few meters between the two of you before Lucy grabbed the leash tightly in her hand trying to stop your running. What she also wasn't prepared for was the strength you could get out of your fury so Alexia was met with a angry faced running you as she rounded the corner as you basically dragged Lucy behind you who still tried to get you under control

“Bubs come on... calm down” your sister tried again “Bon dia Capi” she smile quickly at Alexia before she got dragged on

“I... don't even want to know” the blonde spaniard mumbled to herself as she continued her way to the locker room

“The Bronzes out there?” Keira asked as Alexia entered the changing room

“This way... Cariño seemed quite aggressive this morning” the blonde pointed to the right

“Yeah... Lucy jumped her with the dino-harness... did anyone had any blood on them?” Keira asked getting a little concerned when Alexia used “aggressive”

“Not that I saw... but the Cariño pulled Lucy around like she weight nothing...” the spaniard answered as she tied her cleats

“Yeah... y/n in a bad mood is someone you don't want to cross...” the blonde englishwoman said as she stood up from her cubical grabbing her water bottle

“And why exactly is Cariño pulling around Lucia?” Alexia now questioned as she copied Keira and grabbed her bottle as well when the two women make their way to the field

“You'll see” Keira grinned knowingly

“Bon dia” the two blonde smiled towards the media staff as they recorded the famous arriving of the players

“LEFT!!! TO THE LEFT!!!!” the whole team heard Lucys yelling and all heads turned towards the tunnel exit

“I'LL PRESENT YOU MY LEFT TO YOUR NOSE IN A SECOND!!!!! LET ME THE FUCK GO!!! THIS IS LITERALLY KIDNAPPING!!!” you shouted back and Keira heard that you were about to lose it

“HA!!!!!” Lucy exclaimed as she pulled you out after her “You admit you're a kid... so you get treated like one.... Bon dia” your sister smiled at the camera having the leash over her shoulder walking slightly hunched forward as you got pulled backwards.

“I swear to god Lucy... I rip you to pieces” you sneered as you passed the media staff

The whole team watched the interaction between the two of you and before you knew it you heard a loud laugh. Mapí just couldn't help herself as she saw you in the bright green dino-harness kicking and pouting like a three year old. You of course didn't think it was funny so you turned and sprinted past Lucy about to fight the tattooed spaniard as Lucy hauled you back

“Nooooo... we don't fight” your sister said sternly as she held the leash tightly digging her feet into the grass so you couldn't pull her along again

“She's laughing” you said accusing and even Lucy saw that your patience’s wearing thin

“Let her Bubs... come on... I even got you some coffee and ice cream” your sister tried to lure you away as Mapí stupidly opened her mouth

“You wearing a kiddie-leash” the spaniard laughed loudly as Ingrid stepped in looking at Lucy

“Where did you find that? That is a great idea!!” the Norwegian asked interested

“Bronzo? Bought it back in Lyon when missy here decided to go on a stroll while I was... occupied and I had to pick her up hours later at a police station” your sister grinned as she playfully tugged on the leash

“You weren’t “occupied” you were shoving your tongue down Keiras throat!!!” you exclaimed aggregated

“I think my life would benefit from something like this as well” Ingrid mused her eyes sparkling

“Why would we need something like this, mi amor?” Mapí now asked confused

Ingrid just raised an eyebrow expectantly at her girlfriend waiting for her to catch on – and finally she did

“NO.... I don’t need something like this... I’m no hija” the tattooed spaniard exclaimed annoyed looking at you pointingly as she referred to you as a child

“You sure sound like one at the moment...” the Norwegian grinned as Mapí pouted and crossed her arms over her chest before sticking out her tongue to you

You tried to get to her again as Alexia now stepped in and stopped you

“cálmate” the blonde spaniard said calmly and the usage of spanish got you out of your head

“Huh?” you asked as you looked at her confused

“cálmate” Alexia repeated softly

“Cellmate?” you asked even more confused “makes no sense dude”

“It means “Calm down” in spanish” the blonde answered her voice calm and low

“Ha... so calm mate is making sense” you said but weirdly you felt much more calm

“It kinda does, doesn't it” the Capitan still kept her voice calm as she grabbed your waist manoeuvring you to the side line without breaking eye contact as she feared you would jump on Mapí and kill her.

Everyone watched the interaction stunned as you just let Alexia carefully move you away from the team. Even Lucy and Keira couldn't believe it since it was normally a fight for hours till you calmed down.

“Shit Capi is good” Lucy mumbled loosening the leash so you wouldn't feel the pressure and would snap again

“Shut up before you shift her focus and we have another fight on our hands” Keira shushed her ex girlfriend warningly

Alexia manoeuvred you into a shady corner the leash now dragging behind you since Lucy had to let go of it to not disturb the little moment you have with her Capitan.

“Are you gonna be good and stay here or do I have to tie this leash to one of the posts?” Alexia asked you quietly but still firmly

“Not gonna run” you mumbled kinda ashamed and embarrassed being strapped into a kiddie-harness right in front of (yet again) world class players “So embarrassing”

“No need to be embarrassed Cariño... we just want you save” the blonde said quietly keeping this interaction as private as possible “And it makes Lucia feel so much better knowing you're save”

“She could just have...” you started but couldn't come up with a reasonable solution

“It's the best solution for now... and after training I'll let you chase Mapí for making fun of you, okay.. now please stay here – I give you the... depth of doubt and won't tie this leash up but if you disappoint me I won't hesitate to do so” Alexia said softly but it was a fair warning to you

“Benefit...” you mumbled not meeting her eyes “It's benefit of the doubt... but thank you”

“If you need something just yell or tell one of the staff members okay?” the blonde smiled warmly at you

“Is there coffee around?” you asked hopefully as the blonde started laughing signalling to one of the staff to come over. She quickly spoke to the young man in spanish and he jogged off back into the building

“Cortado is on the way” the Capitan winked “you remember “thank you” in spanish?”

“Moohtschas grazia or something like that” you said after a second of thinking and you could see Alexia visibly flinch at your butchering her mother tongue

“You have to speak softer, Cariño... spanish is a soft language – not harsh... try again... muchas gracias” the blonde encouraged you to try again

“That's what I said... Moohtschas grazias” you said confused

“You are to hard on the “s”... it's “s” like �� sunshine... not “z” like... what's this white and black horse?” she tried to remember

“Zebra” you helped her out

“Sí... Zebra... again... muchas...” Alexia spoke slowly empathizing the “s”

“muchas” you tried to copy her pronunciation

“gracias” the blonde said slowly again

“gracias” you followed

“Bíen... muchas gracias” Alexia smiled proudly at you “Now be good and stay here” she said as she pressed a light kiss to your forehead and left you standing there rooted in place.

The only people who were allowed to give forehead kisses were Lucy, Keira, Sarina and Georgia. Alexia wasn't allowed and you were very careful when it came to physical contact. Keira of course kept an eye on you through warm ups and saw the interaction with Alexia. As soon as the blonde spaniard leant down to press a small kiss to your forehead Keira already moved towards you

“It's okay Bitsy... it's how the spanish are, okay... she doesn't mean any harm” Keira spoke calmly since she knew what physical contact – at least not predicted one – did to you.

“It's just the way they are around here, okay... they're very touchy feely... no need to freak out Bitsy okay” the blonde englishwoman kept talking until you looked at her

“She... she kissed me” you stuttered out

“I saw... but she doesn't mean any harm – it's really how they are here” Keira reassured you

“I... didn't like it... she didn't say anything beforehand” you said and the blonde could see how you were fighting an internal battle

“She doesn't know... no one knows you don't like contact like that” the blonde stayed calm through your conversation

“Why did she do that?” you asked confused

“She wanted to show you how good you did” Keira once again reassured you

“Ice cream would have done the job” you mumbled which caused the blonde to burst out laughing

“I know... but I can see some coffee coming this way... I bet it has your name on it” Keira smiled as she stroke through your hair and turned around to leave you to re-join training.

“muchas gracias” you said as the young man who grinned widely as he answered “De Nada”

You sat down on the ground sipping on your coffee watching the training going on as they switched from passing drills to 5 a side. You remembered these drills like the back of your hand and you already knew who would pass to whom and who would assist to who to get the ball into the back of the net. The drills they were playing were so predictable that you groaned internally. Just happens to not be internally – you groaned so loudly that even Jona turned around looking at you as if he tried to figure out if you're hurt again. He signalled Lucy and spoke to her quietly as her eyes snapped towards you before she came jogging over

“What's wrong Bubs... Jona said you might have hurt yourself he said you groaned quite loudly” your sister asked worried

“M not hurt... but this is so boring and your playing is so predictable...” you rolled your eyes

“What do you mean?” Lucy asked confused

“Okay wait...” you waited until the whistle blew again “Ingrid will pass it to Ona, Mapí tries to intercept but her footing is wrong so she won't get there in time. Ona will pass it as a high ball to that brown haired one who will TRY to get it down the middle with as a half-volley but Alexia stands to close so brown hair only gets the ball to bounce of Alexias hip... she will pass the ball to the right to flawless and flawless will cross it back into the middle to the blonde norwegian... who will make it look like she's going in for a header but she'll let the ball cross to the Jamaican spaniard who's already waiting at the back post... oh yeah... and Kei was open in the middle the whole time” you said and it happened exactly like you said just that you said it about 10 seconds before it all happened

“What the...” your sister listened to you as you predicted the whole tactic move before it even got played out now looking at you shocked

“Told you.. predictable” you shrugged your shoulders as Lucy waved Jona over to her speaking to him in spanish as now HIS eyes snapped towards you.

“Mind if we try something Bubs?” Lucy asked you smiling slightly

“I'm NOT trying your protein shakes again” you exclaimed

“No... I just want to show Jona something” she laughed as she nodded to her trainer.

Jona yelled something in spanish and the teams mixed up before he looked at you expectantly

“Tell me what's going to happen now, Bubs... I'll translate for him” Lucy encouraged you as you scanned the field and who the players were positioned

After a few minutes you looked at your sister “Team Yellow is going to score first... they have a technical midfield and even if Team Red has the better defence, they will concentrate on the forwards instead of the midfield and either Kei or tweedledee will score – team reds defence will probably only watch tweedledumb and Jamaican spaniard and forget about the technical finesse these two midfielders have... Alexia will realize it first but it will be to late” you shrugged your sister as she spoke lowly to her trainer who then turned around to blow the whistle.

Again you watched bored as the game rolled out just as you said – it was Keira who had the finishing touch on the ball to hit the back of the net. Jona turned around to you looking like he saw a ghost

“How did you know this?” Lucy asked you after Jona talked to her for a minute

“Predictable” you felt like a broken record “You guys focus too much on the forwards... you have an amazing midfield but you only go for the forwards... it’s a wonder you’re opponents haven’t figured it out already”

Lucy again translated what you said to her trainer who couldn't stop to look at you with a shocked face

“He wants you” your sister grinned

“Yeah no... I don't dingdongs... sorry” you waved off before yelling over to the field “Keira... rotate your hip more when you go for that high ball... and lock your ankle... you look like a fucking penguin trying to walk on ice”

“He wants you in his training staff you horny bitch” Lucy bit out

“Yeah... he can get in line” you mumbled watching Keira closely as she tried to follow through with what you just said

“What was that?” your sister asked confused

“KEIRA for god sakes... LOCK THIS BLOODY ANKLE... you locked it around my sisters waist enough times that I know you're able to do so!!!” you yelled again not happy with the outcome of your “pointers”

“Dear heavens” Lucy groaned as half the team looked at her while the other half looks at Keira “No more caffeine for you”

“It's not the caffeine that's the problem here...” you mumbled watching Keira step up to the ball again

“Then what is?” Lucy asked annoyed

“You REALLY want the answer to this question?” you raised an eyebrow at her

“On second thought...” your sister interrupted quickly

“Yep.. thought so...” you grinned fake “BETTER KEI!! Good job” you yelled out as the ball was nearly perfect

“Thanks Bitsy” the blonde yelled back smiling

“Always” you shouted before sitting down again

“What did you mean when you said Jona can get in line?” Lucy asked bringing the former topic back up

“You really think he's the first trainer that offered me a job??” you looked at her in disbelieve

“I... can't follow you” your sister said getting more and more confused

“The first one who offered was Sarina after the Euros... you think it was an accident to bring Tooney and Less in just after halftime? Second one was Alex Straus, third one was Emma, fourth one was Jonas, fifth was Gareth and on place no. 6 now the spanish guy... so yeah... he can get in line” you said seriously as you looked your sister straight in the eye

“I had no idea” Lucy said slowly compensating the information

“Yeah... it's not like I make a big deal out of it” you shrugged but Lucy knew you wanted to say something else

“You can always talk to me, Bubs” she said knowing you would need to hear it again and again and again

“Yeah... I know” you sighed

“Good... I'm going back to training okay... we have about 30 minutes left then we can go for ice cream...” she smiled softly at you before turning around leaving

“Hey Luce?” you shouted after her

“Yeah?”

“Can I have your phone please... mines dead again and I'm bored... you have games on your phone right?” you asked pouting a little for good measure

“Sure... pin is your birthday” your sister went over to her bag quickly and tossed you her phone

“Love you” you shouted after her.

Just as you wanted to start playing candy crush it started to ring. Caller was “Lionesses”. So you figured you could answer the phone.

“Lucy Bronzes phone... you're speaking with the better looking and younger version” you answered the call

There was a beat of silence before the other person started to speak

“Y/n??” you heard a confuses voice

“Hi Mama Rina” you said happily noticing Sarinas voice immediately

“I thought I called Lucy” the Dutch was majorly confused

“You did... I'm currently at the Camp Nope watching her train and I got bored so I got her phone to play candy crush” you explained as the smile never left your face.

“Oooooh okay... think she can make it to Camp next week?” Sarina asked and you could her smile through the phone

“Wait... I'll ask her...” you said before covering the phone with your hand “LUUUCCYYYY!!!! SARINA WANTS TO KNOW IF YOU ARE FREE NEXT WEEK FOR CAMP!!!” you yelled of the top of your lungs

“WHAT?” your sister asked confused

“NATIONALCAMP NEXT WEEK!! YES? NO?” you yelled again

“YES OF COURSE!!!” Lucy yelled already on her way over again

“She said yes... Keira is here too” you got back to the call

“Would you mind, Liefje?” Sarina asked you already pulling the phone away from her ear knowing you're going to start yelling in a second

“KEIRA??? NATIONALCAMP – YES OR NO?!” you yelled to the blonde englishwoman

“YES” Keira just yelled back not bothering asking why you asked her

“Kei said yes too...” you repeated the answer to the womans national coach

“Thank you, snoepje... I'll see you all in a week then” the Dutch smiled and ended the call

“Why are you on the phone with Sarina?” your sister asked

“She called...” you shrugged your shoulders “Flights will be send per email as usual”

“She called... okay...” Lucy said dumb folded and left again

Just as training was about to end and you roamed the side line a little bit – always under the watchful eye of Alexia, Lucy and Keira – Mapí tried to do a midfield shot on goal. Of course she booted the ball without any precision and the ball ended up in your direction

“Y/N!! WATCH OUT!” Keira yelled as she saw the ball rocketing towards you.

You lifted your head just in time to recognise the ball but you didn't have time to THINK what you would do. Your body reacted out of reflex and muscle memory. You stopped the ball perfectly with your chest before you volleyed it down the field with your right food and your precision was so on point that the ball came in perfect for Keira who stopped the ball with her foot mid air to turn with it and just tipped it into the open goal. Everyone on the pitch looked at you shocked and even you were shocked about what happened. Since you got your diagnosis with your third ACL you swore to yourself to never touch a ball again – and yet here you were assisting a “goal” for Keira and it was all Mapís fault. No one dared to move as they kept staring at you – and suddenly it clicked in your head. You looked at Lucy. You looked at Keira.

“Bubs no... it's okay... you're okay” Lucy tried to approach you slowly as she spoke softly seeing in your eyes exactly what your next move would be.

Oh how right she was – the second it really sunk in what just happened you bolted. You jumped over the barrier running as fast as you could. OF COURSE you forgot about the dino-harness. You just entered the tunnel as you got hauled backwards with such a force that you lost your footing and crashed into the ground. You just laid there as you tried to breath but your breathing became more hectic and rapid. Your sisters face appeared next to you only seconds later pulling you upon into a sitting position as she shuffled in behind you pressing your body back into hers as you tried to fight her grip

“It's okay Bubs... nothing happened... you're okay..” Lucy reassured you over and over again as you keep struggling in her arms trying to get free

“You need to breath for me Bubs... come one... deep breaths” your sister spoke softly ignoring the fact that you already hit her twice in the rips as she sat with you on the ground in the tunnel.

Suddenly Lucy heard fast approaching footsteps and the next second a panic stroked Mapí dropped to her knees in front of the two of you.

“Neña... Neña I'm so sorry... I didn't mean too... please” the spaniard begged you as she took your face in her hands seeing you so majorly distressed brought her to the verge of tears

You jerked back from her touch successfully head butting Lucy in the face who groaned painfully and felt hot liquid shooting out of her nose right into you hair as you kept your face away from Mapí. Your sister tightened the grip around you body basically switching to koala hug you from behind as tight as possible as you kept throwing your weight around

“Maps please... I know you're sorry and I know it wasn't on purpose but I need you to leave us alone right now” Lucy said through gritted teeth not because she was angry she just felt her strength leaving her arms and she knew the second she would let go you'd be gone and probably gone for days.

“I just want her to know how sorry I am... I really didn't mean to... Keira said I opened the box of Pandora” the tattooed spaniard said and Lucy heard the desperation in her voice

“I know Maps... I know it wasn’t intentional... and I promise you everything will be okay again – it's not the first time I'm going through this with her and she will calm down eventually... we just need space” your sister answered – even tho her voice got quite nasally – calmly to not set the spaniard off even more.

She could see how Mapí beat herself up but she was oh so thankful when she heard another pair of footsteps approaching and seconds later Mapí got hurled to her feet and dragged away by her girlfriend. As soon as the spaniard was gone from your vision you calmed down significantly reducing to a whimpering mess in your sisters arms

“I know Bubs... it's still too much for you and I know you need to work through it in your own time...” Lucy spoke quietly into your hair as she started to rock the both of you back and forth.

Lucy loosened her grip around you slightly to see your reaction but not too much if you'd try to bolt. Thankfully you exhausted yourself to the point where you just sack against her trying to find as much comfort in her touch as possible. You stayed like this for another 10 minutes with your sister mumbling sweet nothings into your hair before Lucy heard a low whistle coming from the tunnel entrance. As she looked up she saw Keira poking her head around the corner an eyebrow raised in question. The blonde knew from past experiences that you would get send right into another panic attack if there was anyone else except for Lucy around you. Lucy looked down on your hunched form back up at Kei and nodded. Keira approached the two of you carefully always ready to stop or even retreat if you showed any sign of discomfort

“That was a bad one” the blonde whispered as she slid down next to the two of you.

“I'm so thankful for that stupid leash... we wouldn't have found her for at least days Kei... if not weeks” Lucy whispered back as she adjusted your hold on you pulling you closer to her chest

“I know... but Mapí didn't mean too...” Keira said as she kept her voice low

“I know... I'm not blaming her or anyone... it was a stupid coincidence” your sister answered her eyes never leaving you

“She just broke down in the locker room... she's beating herself up really bad for that” the blonde whispered

“Ingrid with her?” Lucy asked alarmed not wanting Mapí to fall down into a mental hole as well – one mental breakdown was enough for one day.

“Course... Alexia as well... but she needs to hear it from y/n... it's funny isn't it? They know her for a few days but I bet my yearly salary that every single woman in that room would jump in front of a truck for her” Keira said and a low chuckle left her throat

“It's the Bronze charm... you fell for it too... twice actually” your sister smiled slightly

“You wish... you figured out already that G is a cover... you think I was after you?” the blonde teased back

“Keira Fae...” Lucy faked gasped shocked “... are you implying you were after my Sister the whole time?”

Keira just grinned enjoying the playful banter that just shows what good of a relationship Lucy and her were still having. A purely friendly relationship but still up for banter.

As you registered more of your surroundings you noticed that at one point Keira must have entered the scene and you blindly patted your hand towards her hoping she'd understood. And of course she did – she took your hand into hers without and comment making sure to keep a good hold of it.

“It's okay Bitsy... we're here” the blonde whispered calmly

You just sunk deeper into your sisters arms pressing your face into the crook of her neck feeling utterly exhausted

“You should get your nose checked out” Keira said referring to the dried blood on Lucys face

“Later... not important right now” your sister mumbled squeezing you tighter to her chest

“M sorry Luce” you mumbled against her neck

“S okay Bubs... you just got scared” Lucy mumbled back pressing a kiss to your forehead

“M sorry to Mapí too... probly scared her” you half-slurred as your body felt heavy your mind exhausted

“Don't worry about it... you can talk to her tomorrow on the phone, okay?” your sister reassured you softly

“Want to pologize n person” you said as your closed again

“Okay... but tomorrow... you okay moving to the locker room?” Lucy asked carefully

“Don't want to see anyone” you shook your head

“I'll clear it out” Keira said as she stood up “Give me five minutes”

After five minutes Keira came back around the corner nodding. Lucy tried to stand up but with you in her lap and sitting on the hard ground for nearly an hour she wasn't able too. Your hand clutched her shirt tightly fearing she would disappear once you'd let go

“Come here Bitsy... the old woman needs help to stand up” Keira said her voice teasing as she pulled you off your sister into her arms.

You were basically dead weight at this point only be held up by the blondes strength. As soon as Lucy stood up (with a loud groan) she lifted you bridal style and started to walk towards the locker room where Alexia waited outside the door. The blonde spaniards eyes grew wide in shock as she saw Lucys face but recovered quickly as she just opened the door to the mostly empty locker room in silence letting your sister carry you inside before closing the door behind you. Inside Ona waited with a water bottle offering it to you as Lucy placed you in a corner on the bench letting you lean against the cool wall.

“I'm just gonna jump the shower quickly Bubs, okay... is it okay if Ona has an eye on you or do you want her to leave” Lucy spoke softly knowing from past experience that you couldn't deal with loud noises in that state

“S okay...” you mumbled taking a small sip of the water

“Okay” your sister sighed relieved “I'll be back in a flash okay Bubs”

You just nodded sipping slowly on your water while Ona retreated to the other side of the room not wanting to invade your space or scare you. You were pretty impressed she knew what you needed – then again Keira probably gave her a run down. The all to familiar feeling of loneliness spread in your chest again and you just grunted hoping Ona would understand your silent request. She wasn't Keira so you had to make yourself known a second time – this time with a whine. Ona noticed you were slightly in distress but didn't knew how to react. Keira told her to be there but not too close. But after you whined out she kicked all plans out the window approaching you carefully sitting down two cubical away from you

“You need anything, Bebita?” the blonde freckled spaniard asked quietly

“Hug” you whined out

“Ven aquí entonces” Ona mumbled out and to both of your surprise you basically threw yourself into her arms.

That's how Lucy found you 10 Minutes later – you fast asleep in Onas arms who looked like she was hardly breathing not wanting to scare you.

“Welcome to the family” Lucy smiled as she passed you seeing how content you apparently felt in her girlfriends arms

“I didn't to anything I swear... she asked for a hug then threw herself at me and seconds later she was out like a light” the spaniard whispered her voice slightly panicked not wanting to set you off.

“Don't worry... she won't wake up...” Lucy waved off speaking normal volume “I know you didn't started it... but you have no idea what this means... you are basically now her sister too... she accepts no one other than Keira or me to touch her in that state... and here we are with her fast asleep in your arms... you made it Babe”

“Is this her way of telling me she's okay with me dating you?” Ona smiled

“It's more than that... she's telling you that she trusts you” your sister said as she put a new shirt on “You know if a physio is still around? Need my nose checked out – don't think it's broken but better save than sorry”

“Marc should still be around...” the spaniard answered “What's with her”

“Hope you're comfortable... I'll be back quickly” Lucy grinned widely before slipping out of the door before her girlfriend could protest

Outside she was met with Keira and Alexia both leaning against the opposite wall

“Wow... extra security detail... she's asleep – no need for bodyguards” your sister joked as she laid eyes on her two teammates

“How is she?” Keira asked cutting straight to the point

“Asleep... Ona seems to meet her standards when it comes to sleepability” Lucy smiled

“Good... keep me updated... and if you need anything” the blonde started already grabbing her things knowing there's nothing for her to do anymore

“I'll text you... thanks Kei... it really meant a lot... also means... thank you” your sister said honestly

“Always Luce... always... whatever you need... or whatever she needs” Keira smiled back warmly

“Kay... see you tomorrow Kei” Lucy hugged her ex girlfriend and pressed a soft kiss to her temple

“And what can I do for you Capi?” your sister asked expectantly after she turned around

“Let's take a walk?” the blonde spaniard asked

“I need to see Marc anyway...” Lucy shrugged her shoulders

“What happened?” Alexia asked straight away

“Panic attack” your sister answered as the two women walked down the hallway

“But why... nothing happened” the blonde asked confused

“For us it was nothing... for her it opened up old deep wounds” Lucy answered “I'm about 95% sure it was the first time she touched a ball in over three years. You see... you just went through an ACL tear and rehab yourself... you know what it takes and how it feels... now imagine being 13 and went through it twice already and you AGAIN tore your ACL... I still can remember the look she had on her face when I told her what the diagnosis was... she was just stoic... for weeks she didn't talk just basics... she hardly ate – just what Keira and I basically forced down her throat and there were a lot of panic attacks and nightmares... at some point she got better again – but she never worked it out... and I'm still waiting for the day when she finally breaks... that earlier was just a panic attack about touching a ball again”

Alexia listened carefully before looking at Lucy with a sorrow face

“No...” your sister immediately said sternly “We don't pity her of feel sorry for her... we're proud of her...”

“She didn't deserve that... that ball was PERFECT Lucia...” the blonde spaniard said and her voice was full of hurt

“I know... you haven't seen her play... how she ran circles around Jill Scott or Ellen White out dribbling them with such ease.. how she kicked a Gatorade bottle off the crossbar – from the other box just for fun... how she spend HOURS on the side line when I had training just playing keep ups... believe me Alexia when I say... I KNOW” Lucy answered and for a second Alexia saw just how hurt Lucy was for you “But she fought... three times she fought back... doc said she'd probably will have a limp all live – do you see her limping? No... because she fought... so no, we don't pity her... we're so SO proud of her”

“She is remarkable, just like her biggest Idol....” Alexia smiled but it had a sad nuance

“I wish I was half as Tough as she is” your sister smiled back understanding her Capitan immediately.

“Just keep being there for her Lucia... she doesn't need anything more from you...” the blonde squeezed Lucys shoulder lightly “And now get that nose checked... you looked... not very appealing”

“I looked like shit... but thanks Capi... see you tomorrow” your sister smiled as she went inside to the physio who told her a few proddings later that her nose was in fact fine

“Hey... I'm back” Lucy said lowly finding you and Ona in the same position she left you in

“Hola... you okay?” Ona asked smiling slightly as you drooled on her shirt your head laying on her shoulder

“Nothing broken... just bruised.... home?” your sister asked as she already packed up hers and Onas stuff

“You really want to move her? She's sleeping so peacefully” the blonde asked concerned looking down on you.

“You want to stay here all night?” Lucy asked back raising an eyebrow

“Let's get her home” Ona said after a second

“Yep thought so... You bags I her?” your sister asked smiling

“I bag and keys...” the blonde grinned “... you know since she's around I'm driving your car more than you do... I like it... she can stay” the blonde winked

“You wish...” Lucy huffed as she pulled you into her arms to carry you to the car “Let's go home Bubs” she whispered and smiled as you sighed out pressing your face against her neck.

#woso image #lucy bronze x reader #keira walsh x reader #barca femeni #mapi leon x reader #ingrid engen x reader #lucy bronze #ona batlle x reader #alexia putellas x reader

[milswrites]

The Trials of Aphrodite Part Three

~ Azriel X Fem!Reader

Series Masterlist

Series summary: Hopelessly in love with Elain, Azriel enlists your help in order to win her over. The only problem? You have been in love with Azriel for as long as you have known him.

Chapter summary: Azriel receives a lesson in flirting.

Warnings: A bit of angsty pining. Teeny bit of suggestiveness.

It was a familiar scene; you staring at Azriel.

And Azriel staring at her.

Want swimming in his hazel eyes as he absorbed Elain's glowing figure as she pottered about in her garden, lips parted in awe as he took in her soft features and natural beauty.

All the while your eyes stayed locked on him. Wonder filling your own gaze as you marveled at the admiration which flowed freely from the male next to you. Azriel's intense stare providing you with an insight into all the love he had to give. A love that would never be reserved only for you. A type of love that he would only ever feel for Elain.

"So how's this going to work?" you ask in an attempt to break Azriel from his lovestruck spell, swallowing your pain as you noticed the love draining from his eyes as he turned his gaze to you.

"I don't know, I was hoping you would tell me what to do" he nervously mumbled, peeking back over the rosebush the two of you were hidden behind to double check that Elain hadn't spotted you.

"Gods this is ridiculous, Az just go over and talk to her!" you exclaimed, your raised voice being met with the anxious shushing of your worrisome friend who was afraid of being caught.

"Gee thanks I wonder why I haven't thought about doing that before. . . It's because I can't!" his sarcastic reply was met with a flat look from you, certain that the only reason Azriel was finding this difficult was because he was the one making it that way.

"Az, how hard can it be? Just compliment her or something!" you sighed, wondering how Azriel could ooze confidence in every aspect of his life apart from when it comes to romance.

"It's not that easy. I've tried. . . look last time I complimented her I asked her if she was the cauldron because I wanted to drown in her eyes" he awkwardly admitted, embarrassed eyes cast to the ground in shame.

"You compared Elain to the cauldron?" you asked unimpressed, astounded at your friend's boundless stupidity, "Elain who quite literally drowned in the cauldron in what was probably the most traumatizing event of her life."

"I didn't say the line worked" Azriel grumbled, not liking the chuckle of disbelief which slipped from your lips at his hopelessness.

"Obviously not, we wouldn't be crouched behind a bush right now if it did" you retorted, unable to stop the fit of giggles which followed as you tried to imagine Azriel's pitiful attempt of flirting backfiring on him.

"Are you going to help me or are you just going to sit there and laugh at me?" Azriel huffed, not sharing in your amusement at his misery.

"Fine, fine. Just go over there and compliment her dress, girls like it when guys notice that kind of thing" you suggest, trying not to turn red as you recall the time when Azriel had first complimented one of your own dresses, having continued to wear it every time you saw him for the next few months with the hope of him praising you again.

"Great, what do I say?" your friend asked, but not before you shoved him right into the heat of the fire by pushing him out from behind the rosebush. Azriel stumbling away from the safety of his hiding spot.

"Azriel? What are you doing here?" Elain's gentle voice called out from where she was stood. A quick flash of Azriel's burning gaze a warning that the two of you would be talking about this later.

"Elain!" Azriel loudly starts as he slowly makes his way towards Elain, his awkward manner already making you cringe in discomfort, "Your dress! it's nice. . . and pink. Nice and pink."

It took everything in you not to hang your head into your palm in shame, finding it incredulous how one person could fail so miserably when it came to talking to someone.

Thankfully, if Elain found his behaviour strange she didn't let on, instead replying to his strange attempt of a compliment with an airy giggle and a polite thank you.

"Great! Well um. . ." your ears perk, brows furrowing in confusion as you wait to see what Azriel says next, "Hope you have a nice day!"

With that Azriel swiftly left, abruptly ending the painfully awkward conversation before leaving the garden, hurriedly making his way up the nearest street in order to escape his discomfort. Chasing after your flustered friend, you followed after him, hoping that Elain hadn't noticed you were also there listening in on their conversation.

"Nice and pink? Have a nice day?" you laughed, having caught up to Azriel, “I’ve met Middengard Wyrm’s that flirt better than you just did." Not failing to miss the dusty pink hue that had blossomed across Azriel’s cheeks in wake of his embarrassment. 

“I can flirt,” he swiftly defended, hazel eyes rolling towards the back of his head as he noted the teasing smile which had graced your lips, “I was just caught off guard that’s all.”

“Ah ok, you were caught off guard. Is that the reason why you practically screamed in Elain’s face?” you smirked, working to deepen your friend’s blush until the growing redness spread to his ears.

“I didn’t scream-” Azriel didn’t fail to miss the way your face contorted into a wince at his hopeless denial, his once heated words now converting into a low conscious murmur, “Was it really that bad?”

You stretch out a reassuring hand to come and rest against Azriel’s slumped shoulder, thumb instinctively moving to rub comforting circles into his taut muscle. Eyebrows knitting together in pained sympathy, you answer honestly, “Maybe it was a little pathetic. . .You won't be tending to Elain's garden any time soon if that was anything to go by."

There was no stopping Azriel’s despondent sigh, not even the gentle caress of his shadows against his shaking hands brought the male any solace, the swirling black tendrils failing to sate their master's rising panic as it washed over him.

It was a horrible sight, seeing your friend so dejected. Your heart twinging at the way his anxious breath rattled in his chest. You would offer him your understanding if you could, take his trembling hands into your own and tell Azriel that you were all too familiar with the feeling of getting tongue tied around the person you so longed for. Yet no confession of your shared failures in the romance department would fix this, not when Azriel was the one who owned your heart. Not when you had promised him help in winning over another.

And so you didn’t share your hidden truth with the male, instead opting to lock it away into the darkest depths of your heart. It was a secret you were willing to keep forever, so only to ensure the happiness of your friend. A secret you would carry with you to your grave if Azriel’s plan goes as intended. 

Instead you offer Azriel the only thing you could; your comfort. The supportive hand which had been resting on his shoulder now travelling down his arm. His shadows parting briefly to allow you to lock your fingers with his own, the smoky wisps resuming their soothing dance once your hands were comfortably entwined.

One touch. That was all it took to pull Azriel from the wave of panic that had consumed him. The familiar touch of your palm against his own enough to steady his uneven breaths and calm his shaking hands.

"Its ok," you promise, confident gaze meeting his own uncertain stare, "you've not ruined anything. All you need is a little more confidence and she'll be under your spell. Trust me, one flirty little one liner from you and it will be impossible for her to be anything but in love."

"I can manage one I suppose" Azriel attempts to agree confidently yet his words read more like a question, removing his hand from your own to ruffle his hair in thought.

"Maybe you could ask Lucien for tips, Feyre tells me he's quite the flirt'' you tease, hoping the mention of Lucien's name would spur on Azriel's desire to act on his feelings for Elain.

"I don't need help when it comes to flirting, and certainly not from him" he grit the words through his teeth having predictably taken the bait you had laid out for him.

"Hmm I'm not sure, your skills were a little lacklustre from what I could see" you continue to goad him, each prod and poke working to build your friends confidence bit by bit.

"Lacklustre?" Azriel scoffed in disbelief, all anxiety having been drained from his eyes and replaced with the spark of a challenge.

"You wouldn't have me swooning" you shrug casually, mouth twisting into a playful smirk at Azriel's displeasure.

“No?” Azriel asked in faux surprise, the male taking a slow step towards you, “not even if I did this?”

 A gentle push of the tips of Azriel's fingers against the exposed skin of your chest found you stumbling backwards until you were pressed against the wall. Your teasing smile fading as your shock consumed you, heart fluttering as Azriel's arms came to cage you on either side. “Or this?” he continued, leaning in close enough that the warmth of his breath against your neck began to send shivers down your spine. Your knees wobbling at the intensity of his gaze.

“I thought flirting included words?” you breathed out heavily, trapped under the heat of his gaze.

“Why use words when I could take you apart with less than that?” he lowly whispered into your ear, a glint of darkness in his eyes as a cruel smirk appeared on his lips. You found yourself speechless, entranced by the playfulness of his devilishly handsome features, your deep breaths falling in time with his own as he witnessed your stunned reaction to his words.

"I think Elain will find my flirting perfectly adequate" he smiled, shattering the moment as he mentioned the woman that he truly wished was captured between his arms. Reminding you that his flirtacious quip wasn't for you; it was for her.

"Maybe that's a bit much Az" you state sourly, moving your hand to his chest in order to push him away and slip under his outstretched arm, "I don't know how well Elain will take it if you come on that strong."

"You didn't seem to mind" he answered cheerfully, failing to notice your sudden change in mood, the male still trying to continue his teasing banter.

"I think you'll find there's more to women than just sex and physical attraction" you scoffed, desperately wanting nothing more than to move on from this conversation. Yet Azriel wouldn't provide you with that mercy, his next question almost enough to make you sick.

"What would you say then? To someone you loved, someone you pined after?"

You debated not answering him, dismissing his curiosity to spare you from the pain and embarrassment that would no doubt ensue. Yet a small part of you wondered if this would be your only chance. That perhaps you had the wrong idea, locking away your feelings, maybe all you needed was to get them off your chest. To lift the weight from your shoulders, allow yourself to finally move on from the male who would never be interested in you.

So you took the leap, looking your fear in the face as you stared into Azriel's expectant eyes.

And you confessed.

"I would tell him the truth. Tell him how not a day passes where I don't feel madly, uncontrollably in love with him. That any moment I'm not near him I find myself unable to breathe, unable to be satisfied until I am in his company. And I'd tell him that loving him makes me a fool, that I would never fail to sacrifice my happiness if only to see him smile. That love has made me it's servant and I am all too willing to bow before it."

"Sounds to me like you're an expert in love" Azriel answered after a thoughtful pause, a flicker of a smile working its way onto his face.

"I don't think I know what love is" you replied, still waiting for the moment of relief to come, failing to understand that it was a gift you would never receive.

"Nonsense, he's a lucky guy. I'm sure he feels for you as deeply as you do for him" Azriel cheerfully reassured you, looking absolutely delighted by the prospect of you being in love with someone. Completely unaware that he was the male you were speaking of. That he was the person you would struggle to live without.

And as you shook away the consoling shadow which had tentatively approached you, you wondered if your heart would ever be free from the chains of Azriel's own design.

Part four

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Notes: Thank you to @daily-dose-of-sass for unknowingly falling into my trap and giving me the most perfect pick up line for Azriel to have used 😌

Bit more of a look at the dynamic of their friendship in this one!

Taglist Part 1:

@a-cup-of-nightshade @yearninglustfully @illyrianbitch @ninaduchess @sarawritestories @annaaaaa88 @antiquecultist @madelyncullen @erencvlt @chaytea06 @dxjaaaa @saltedcoffeescotch @spark1epuffba11s @thestartitaness @amysangel @historygeekqueen @thelov3lybookworm @aaronwarnerobsessedmylove @willowpains @thebeautifulmysteriesoflife @dreamlandreader @sidthedollface2 @leeknows-wife @riorgail @eve175 @evergreenlark @anuttellaa @daily-dose-of-sass @Jesus-is-me @tothestarsandwhateverend

#acotar #fanfic #acotar imagine #sarah j maas #a court of thorns and roses #azriel x reader #azriel imagine #azriel #azriel series #azriel oneshot #azriel shadowsinger

[racinggirl]

furthest from truth

Lando Norris fic - requested

My inbox for requests

a/n: I'm baaack! It's been a while, I have to admit. But after having 3 new requests today, I got motivated again and I decided to write the ones that were yet to be posted on my page. I hope you like it! I've added some spice to the end of the chapter 👀 Don't forget to follow me so you won't miss my other stories! 🫶🏼

Sun. Beach. Sand. Friends.

It might look cliché, but it’s what filled your hearts with joy.

‘’Norris! Give me a hand, will ya?’’ Your lips pulled away from those of your boyfriend the moment he got up to help one of your friends with preparing the jet skis.  

‘’Finally,’’ your best friend, Ava, laughed as she took a seat next to you. ‘’Now that your lips are no longer glued to his, what do you think of grabbing a drink, I’m in a desperate need for a Frozen Daiquiri.’’

She pulled you up on your feet after you agreed on getting drinks. It was your holiday, after all, and even though it was just your first day of the 3-week holiday here in Dubai, you were planning on making it the best holiday yet.

You and Lando had been together for a little over 5 months now, the two of you bumping into each other at last year’s Christmas Market in London. You spilled your bottle of water over your shirt, and he was determined to win you a teddy bear so he could make it up to you.

After that Christmas Market, you went on a ton of dates. In London, but also in Monaco, as that was where he lived. You attended 3 races before he finally asked you to be his last summer, and obviously you said yes, otherwise this story is kind of weird, isn’t it?

Anyways, you knew who he was when you met him, having watched a few races here and there, along with your friends.

The moment you told your friends Lando had asked you out on a date, they couldn’t contain their excitement and practically forced you to go out with him. So, you did. And here we are, almost a year later.

‘’Two Frozen Strawberry Daiquiri, please.’’ Ava ordered the drinks for the two of you and once you felt the cold glass in your hand, you immediately took a sip.

‘’Urgh,’’ you groaned, your eyes closed. ‘’Best drink ever.’’ You giggled.

‘’Lando! Oh my god watch out!’’ Your grip on his life jacket was tight as he was riding the jet ski with you on the back. ‘’You idiot!’’ You laughed, hands gripping his shoulders firmly when you felt him go even faster – if that was even possible.

‘’You’re riding a jet ski with an F1 driver, love. Did you really think I was gonna go slow?’’ You groaned at his reply, and you simply held onto him like you could fall off any moment, which was probably the case.

Everything sport related was a game to him, and he was very, very competitive. He hated losing, which is why he tried his hardest to make you his, with success.

‘’Okay, okay, enough speed for me, let’s go back to the shore and have dinner, I’m starving.’’ You breathe, Lando’s hand moving over your leg slowly. He lifted his hand till it rested on your outer thigh, whilst still steering the jet ski with one hand. Slower, though, thankfully.

‘’We will, love, we will.’’ He said, but you could hear the amusement in his voice, his tone, teasingly with a smirk.

‘’Lan-…’’ You couldn’t even finish your sentence before your boyfriend pulled the right handle towards him, the two of you flying over the water. He made sure to keep an eye on you, but he knew you enjoyed this, and he wasn’t wrong.

You might tell him to stop going fast, heck, even in the bedroom you’d tell him to stop, but it was always with that flirty and teasing tone. He knew that tone, and he knew it meant you did not want him to, in fact, stop. So, he kept going.

‘’I should have thought better before signing that contract about us.’’

You were fully drenched, Lando obviously pushing the strings too hard which caused you to fall off the jet ski. Nothing harsh, it was all playful, and the two of you were laughing when it happened.

‘’You’re an idiot.’’ You smirked, rolling your eyes playfully as you squeezed the salty water out of your hair.

‘’I know, but you like it.’’ He teased, slapping your ass lightly as his hand moved its way towards your hip, his lips pressing a gentle kiss to your temple. ‘’I love you.’’

Dinner, which was absolutely insane – mostly because you were starving, but definitely because it was one of the best restaurants here in Dubai.

‘’Ehm..’’ Ava shoved you her phone, and you immediately let your eyes wander over the tweets, the Instagram posts, and the articles.

Lando saw the worried look on your face, so he cut off the conversation with his friends and pointed his attention to you, causing his friends to do the same.

‘’What’s wrong, love?’’ He asked, his thumb drawing small circles on your knee as his gaze went from you to the phone, back to you.

You showed him the articles, and a heavy sigh escaped his lips. You could see his jaw clench, the apple in his throat bobbing as he swallowed thickly. ‘’They really need to make rumours about everything, don’t they?’’ He sighed and pressed a kiss to your temple.

‘’Don’t worry, Y/N, I’ll fix it, we’ll post a statement on Insta, alright?’’ He said, his arms wrapping around you which caused you to relax.

You felt guilty, because you were aware of the eyes that were on him now that his contract with McLaren was coming to an end. You knew his contract was getting renewed, but the world didn’t, and you didn’t want to cause issues.

People blaming McLaren for not renewing his contract, and how this. People blaming McLaren for forcing Lando to be in a relationship with you, a PR relationship, which was the furthest from the truth. You loved each other so much, and McLaren had absolutely nothing to do with the two of you.

‘’Come here.’’ Lando’s arms made his way around your shoulders, his strong arms pulling you even closer to his chest. The bed was comfy, soft, but the tension in your face was apparent, especially to Lando.

‘’I just, I feel so stupid for saying that.’’ You sighed but Lando reassured you immediately.

‘’Babe, it’s not the first time we say this, it’s our joke, and people don’t get it, apparently. You know how the media is, they exaggerate everything to get those views and clicks, so they probably overheard you saying that, but did not see the look on your face, or your beautiful smile when you said that.’’ His voice was soft and calm, like he was not stressed at all about this.

‘’But the image McLa-..’’

‘’No, baby, no. That’s not your fault, okay? They should have probably announced the contract extension sooner, yeah, but that has absolutely nothing to do with whatever you said at the beach, okay?’’ He said, stern, but gentle. And you believed him. Of course you did, you believed everything he would tell you because you knew he was right.

‘’Now let’s make that post so people will stop complaining about things that are the furthest from the truth. That, and so I can take you tonight because I really, really want to.’’ He whispered the last thing with a voice so deep, you felt chills all over your body.

landonorris added to his story

landonorris & yourusername

liked by user1, user2, user3 and 1,273,710 others

I love you more than anyone imagine. Nothing can stop us, I promise you. Best decision I've ever made 🧡

view all 39,264 comments

user1 I feel ashamed

user5 as you should user3 we all should. how could we think it was just a PR. they are in love in love.

user2 You are so so so cute together!

‘’Lando, fuck, stop!’’ You breathe, hands pushing against his chest as he looked into your eyes, his bright ones a few shades darker than usually. He smirked, wetted his lips before thrusting even harder… Just how you asked.

#f1 #formula 1 #formula one #lando norris #f1 imagines #f1 fic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 fan #f1 fanfic #formula 1 fanfiction #formula 1 fanfic #mclaren formula 1 #formula one fanfic #formula one fanfiction #lando x you #lando norris mclaren #lando imagine #lando x reader #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #lando norris imagines #lando norris smut #lando norris fanfic #lando norris x you #lando norris x y/n

[dreamwritesimagines]

The Eye of the Hurricane [7] - On Edge

A.N: Here’s the new chapter my loves! ❤️ Thank you so much for your wonderful feedback, you made my day! ❤️I hope you’ll like this chapter as well and please don’t forget to tell me what you think! ❤️

Summary: New enemies can complicate everything.

Word Count: 3200

Pairing: MobBoss!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Violence, death, guns, crime, blood, explicit language, drinking. This is an AU, friendly reminder that I don’t condone any of the actions depicted on this story and please read with care.

Series Masterlist

You had to admit; your therapist had many good ideas but this?

You weren't so sure this was one of those good ideas.

You pulled the souffle out of the oven and took a look at it, then grabbed a toothpick and put it through the center, only to pull it out completely dry.

“God damn it!” you exclaimed, putting it next to the other five failed attempts, and grabbed the bowl again. “This fucking…”

“What are you doing?”

Your head shot up and you looked over your shoulder. “What the—go away, why are you here?”

Bucky raised his brows.

“Hello to you too Charm,” he said, putting his hands into his pockets, his eyes darting around the kitchen. Even you had to admit that the sight of you in the kitchen was unfamiliar, considering that you barely knew how to make eggs but seeing him in your kitchen was equally strange. Your chef would normally be in the kitchen at this time but you were pretty sure he wasn’t here to see her.

“Who told you I was here?”

“The maid,” he said and motioned at the bowl you were holding. “What is this?”

“Why are you here?”

“I asked first.”

You heaved a sigh and put the bowl back on the counter, then crossed your arms.

“I’m baking,” you said as if there was nothing out of the ordinary with that statement, and Bucky frowned slightly.

“Why?” he asked. “What is this, your plan to play house with your civilian boyfriend?”

You rolled your eyes at him.

“My therapist seems to think it’s a good idea,” you said. “She says I should do things like these to relax my mind.”

“Right, you sounded very relaxed when I walked in.”

“It’s because these fucking souffles refuse to have chocolatey center!” you snapped and Bucky blinked a couple of times.

“You’ve never baked once in your life and you decided to start with one of the hardest things to bake in the world?”

“Go big or go home.”

“I’m right with you on that but when it comes to baking, people usually start with cookies.”

“I already baked cookies, they weren’t challenging enough,” you said, motioning at the plate on the kitchen island and he walked to it to get a cookie.

“Did you poison these?”

“Yeah,” you said and he shrugged, then took a bite of it, a look of surprise crossing his face as he chewed on it.

“This is actually good,” he said. “Is this cinnamon?”

“It’s arsenic,” you deadpanned and he nodded his head.

“You know, if you ever decide to go into it professionally, we can get you a bakery.”

“Uh huh.”

“I’m serious, we’d put it in the neutral territory if it makes you feel any better, it could work—”

“Why are you here?” you cut him off and he popped the rest of the cookie in his mouth, then leaned back to the island.

“I’ve been summoned,” he said. “So has everyone else.”

Your eyes widened. “Everyone else? What do you mean, everyone else?”

“All the bosses in the city.”

“What the—why?” you asked, lowering your voice and he shot you a smirk.

“How long have you been here?”

“Bucky!” you hissed and he grabbed another cookie.

 “There’s been an attack.”

“An attack?” you asked, your heart skipping a beat. “From a family?”

“Not from a family,” he answered. “An outsider, or so it seems.”

“What outsider?” you asked and he chewed on his bite.

“No seriously, if I paid you, would you make more of these for me?”

You smacked his arm and snatched the cookie out of his hand.

“Hey!”

“What outsider?”

“It happened in Stark’s territory,” he said, eyeing the cookie. “He knows more than I do, he and your father had a talk I heard but we will all be informed in the meeting.”

You arched a brow. “And?”

“I swear to you, that’s all I know. Can I get it back now?”

You heaved a sigh and handed him the cookie, making him shoot you a happy smile.

“Thank you.”

“Do you think they’re the same people who were involved in the shootout?”

Bucky clenched his jaw, then cleared his throat.

“Who knows?” he said. “So did you think about my proposal?”

You threw your head back in frustration, then jumped to sit on the island, crossing your legs.

“I did,” you said, leaning slightly back, resting your palms on the island and pretending to be in deep thought. “And you know what, it kind of makes sense to use a marriage for my benefit and rise to power.”

If you didn’t know any better, you would’ve thought he was holding his breath, a hopeful light glimmering in his eyes.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah so, Steve or Sam?” you asked airily and he frowned.

“What?”

“Yeah, I mean Romanoff is with Banner, Barton is married, so is Stark…”

A groan left his lips. “Charm…”

“So that leaves us Steve or Sam.”

“They’re my best friends.”

You shrugged your shoulders. “I know that. So what?”

“They would never.”

“Why not?” you asked. “Because you called dibs on me or something?”

He averted his gaze from you and you sat up straighter, pulling your brows together.

“Bucky,” you growled. “You have exactly three seconds to tell me you didn’t call dibs on me as if I’m a cookie because we’re standing in a kitchen full of knives—”

“I didn’t!” he said. “They just…they won’t, okay?”

“Well then that plan is not going to work because I’d never marry you—” you started but heard a knock by the door, making you turn your head to look at Steve.

“Am I interrupting?”

“Not at all,” you said. “Bucky was just leaving.”

Steve glanced around the kitchen with his brows raised. “Since when do you bake?”

“It’s very good for mental health!” your defensive answer came almost too fast and he held up his hands.

“Alright then.”

“It does calm you down,” Bucky said solemnly and you narrowed your eyes at him.

“I’m going to take your cookie back.”

“Don’t you dare.”

Steve eyed the cookies. “Can I have one too?”

“See? He asks for permission,” you told Bucky. “Perfect marriage material there.”

“Excuse me, what?” Steve asked, gawking at you before Bucky grabbed a cookie from the plate and tossed it to Steve who caught it mid-air, then he turned to you.

“You know where to find me.”

“Yeah, between some woman’s legs,” you retorted, making him roll his eyes as Steve chuckled.

“I’ll see you around Charm,” he said and walked out of the kitchen with Steve following him. You nibbled on your lip, then grabbed a cookie and laid down on the island, keeping your eyes on the ceiling.

“So relaxed,” you murmured as you bit into the cookie. "I'm so very relaxed."

                                            *

That meeting took hours to be finished and even though you wanted to stick around in the house, you still had plans with Ethan for lunch. You were at the end of your wits from curiosity so by the time Ethan got there, you were still glued to your phone, waiting for a text from Becca.

“Hey,” he said, pressing a kiss on your cheek and you smiled up at him.

“Hey,” you said and took out the small container out of your handbag to put it in front of him, making him tilt his head.

“What is this?”

“Cookies,” you said, taking a sip of your coffee. “I made them today.”

Ethan stared at you. “You made cookies?”

“Why does everyone sound so shocked about it?” you asked back and Ethan chuckled.

“Y/N, while we were dating, you tried to make toast in the microwave.”

“It’s not my fault if microwaves aren’t that advanced yet,” you told him and he chuckled.

“Of course,” he played along, opening the container to take out a cookie. “What brought on this sudden interest in baking?”

“My psychiatrist,” you said as he took a careful bite and his eyes widened.

“You made this?”

You gasped in a dramatic manner and pushed at his boot with your heel. “I take your disbelief as a compliment.”

“You should, it’s amazing!” he said. “So your psychiatrist told you to bake cookies?”

“Well not just bake but more like…you know, relaxing stuff,” you said. “I started with baking because it sounded more interesting than the other options. And more delicious as well.”

“I think you unlocked a talent there,” he said and you hummed.

“Eh, maybe. My souffles disagree.”

“You made souffles?”

“I started for souffles but now I have muffins,” you said. “You know, not much of a difference there.”

“Muffins are better than souffles anyway,” he told you, grabbing another cookie as the waiter brought his coffee. “Thank you.”

“So I was going to ask you,” you said, turning your phone in your hand. “Where is your apartment exactly?”

“Between 33rd and 34th street right across from the bank, downstairs there’s a cute—”

“Drawing supplies store,” you finished his sentence for him and he blinked a couple of times.

“Do you have a map in your mind or something?”

“My father made me basically memorize the whole city so yeah,” you said and heaved a sigh. “Great. Stark’s territory.”

He pulled his brows together. “Is that bad?”

“Not necessarily,” you said, running a hand over your face. “So hypothetically speaking—”

“Jesus, we’re back to that?” he teased you and you shook your head slightly.

“No I’m serious,” you said. “Hypothetically speaking, it wouldn’t be a good idea to wander around there late in the evening nowadays.”

His frown deepened.

“Is this related to that attack there earlier today?”

Your eyes shot up to his. “You were there?”

“No no, not very close at least,” he said. “It’s just—there was terrible traffic and I heard the police cards and the ambulance, and people were saying there was an attack.”

“At who? Or what?”

“I really don’t know,” he said, shooting you an apologetic look. “Sorry, I didn’t really think much of it. So is this related?”

You pursed your lips together and shrugged your shoulders.

“I’m not sure but as my dad says, you can never be too careful,” you said. “Alright, here’s the thing. I’ll hire someone to keep an eye around your apartment just in case—”

“Wait, what?”

“Just as a precaution.”

“Y/N, I’m a civilian,” he said with a small laugh. “You said civilians don’t get involved—”

“They don’t, it’s a just precaution,” you repeated, taking another sip of your coffee. “I’m sure nothing is going to happen, but it’s good to be careful.”

He leaned back in his chair, deep in thought.

“I’m not gonna have a bodyguard following my every move, right?”

“No they do that with me, not you,” you said, a smile curling your lips. “I assure you, you won’t even notice they’re around.”

“That’s impossible.”

“Not really, I don’t hire amateurs.”

A small chuckle climbed up his throat and he shook his head.

“This is insane.”

“You wanted excitement,” you pointed out. “I’m just making sure that excitement doesn’t turn into actual danger, that’s all.”

He popped another cookie in his mouth. “Did you bring me these so that I would feel more relaxed?”

You shot him a mischievous grin. “Maybe. Is it working?”

“I feel better about it than I would have with zero cookies,” he joked, coaxing out a giggle from you. “So wait, you wanted to let me know first?”

“Yeah because I don’t want to be the psycho ex who puts people in your tail in secret.”

“No, just the ex who has the ability to pull something like that and bake cookies at the same time.”

“I’m nothing if not versatile,” you stated, making him laugh.

“Oh trust me,” he said. “I’m well aware of that.”

You mirrored his smile and held his gaze, biting at your lip before sitting up straighter.

“So,” you said. “Enough about me. How’s everything at the office?”

                                            *

When you got back home, the meeting was mostly over but apparently Bucky and Sam had stayed for a short talk with your father. Even Ian was sent out of the room which gave you a strange satisfaction but it didn’t last very long when you saw him smirking while talking on the phone in the living room. You stepped inside and flung yourself on the couch, crossing your arms while waiting for him to finish.

“Yeah no, because I said—that’s what I’m saying, just be prepared for anything, we don’t know whose territory it might be next. If it’s ours…”

You checked your nails, humming a song just so that you could get on his nerves and Ian stole a look at you.

“I’ll call you later,” he said and hung up, then put his phone into the inner pocket of his jacket. “Y/N.”

“Ian,” you said. “They kicked you out while the real bosses speak then?”

“I had to step outside to make some calls,” he said and you hummed.

“Before or after they kicked you out?”

“Better than not being invited in at all,” he stated, making your jaw clench. “I half expected to see you eavesdropping in the hallway, you surprised me.”

You clicked your tongue, then shot him a fake smile.

“Do they ask you to bring them coffee?” you asked. “While they talk? Like an assistant.”

“I know you find this hard to accept, but I hold a very important part in those meetings,” he said. “Seeing that I’m the heir.”

“Are you though?” you asked. “Father didn’t officially announce you.”

“And he certainly won’t announce you,” he said and you crossed your legs, trying to seem calm and collected.

“So what is going to happen if our territory is next?” you asked him airily and he sat down on the couch across from yours.

“We are going to retaliate.”

“And you hope our territory is next,” you stated and he shrugged his shoulders.

“Not at all but if it is, we will handle it.”

“And the rest of the city?” you asked. “The other territories?”

He rolled his eyes. “You might want to check your priorities there, Y/N.”

“Do you seriously think our territory can just survive on its own?” you asked back. “Do you think if it somehow leads to a war, if any of the other territories get affected, we will still be fine? That will affect the truce and if the peace—”

“That’s the difference between you and me,” Ian cut you off. “The exact reason why uncle chose me as his heir over you. I don’t care much for peace.”

You stared at him, your heart beating in your ears because of the fury spreading through you over his words but before you could say anything, you heard Bucky’s voice in the foyer. You shot up from the couch, rushed to the foyer to see Bucky and Sam, your heels echoing on the marble floor.

“Hi Sam, nice to see you,” you said without even stopping, and grabbed Bucky’s arm to drag him towards the spiral stairs. “You’re coming with me.”

“What, it’s not good to see me?” Bucky asked but followed you without so much as an argument. You made your way through the hallway after you reached the top of the stairs, then pushed him into your room and slammed the door behind you.

“Charm if you wanted me in your bedroom, all you had to do was ask—”

“Keep dreaming,” you snapped at him and he shot you a mischievous grin.

“Hi.”

“What did you all talk about?”

He looked around the room as if trying to take it in as much as he could, and you followed his gaze as it fell on the fireplace and to your reading corner by the window, then to the antique mirror and your vanity before he approached your bed to sit down on it.

“Lovely room,” he commented and you crossed your arms.

“Tell me.”

“This relationship is starting to feel very one-sided—”

“That’s because it is,” you cut him off. “What is going on?”

He heaved a sigh and ran his vibranium hand through his hair.

“Well, at least now we have a name,” he said. “One of the men Stark captured, he said something.”

You arched a brow. “What did he say?”

“Hydra.”

You pulled your brows together, deep in thought.

“Doesn’t sound familiar,” you said. “What, are they new or something?”

Bucky scoffed a laugh and shook his head.

“Not at all,” he said. “We’re still gathering more information about them but they’re not new, that’s for sure.”

You clicked your tongue.

“And let me guess,” you said. “They’re not just a couple of people?”

Bucky shook his head again and you closed your eyes for a moment, letting out a breath as you opened them.

“Fuck.”

Bucky shot you a dry smile. “My reaction exactly.”

“But either way, if all families are working together against them,” you thought out loud. “It means—where did they attack in Stark’s territory, by the way? One of his places?”

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

“A café.”

“Stark doesn’t own a café.”

“No he doesn’t.”

Your stomach did a painful flip as you stared at him.

“Civilians?” you asked, your voice hoarse. “They’re attacking civilians?”

“They’re attacking everyone including civilians,” Bucky answered and you pursed your lips together.

“So no code then,” you murmured. “They’ll create chaos and…”

“We will stop them before they do that,” Bucky assured you as he stood up from the bed. “But Charm, listen to me. From now on, nowhere in the city is one hundred percent safe, no matter whose territory it is. That whole bullshit you keep pulling with no bodyguards—”

“I don’t have a death wish,” you cut him off. “I know how dangerous it can get in a situation like this. I grew up with the same stories as you, remember?”

Bucky’s phone started vibrating and he checked the caller ID, then put it back in his pocket again.

“I gotta go,” he said. “Promise me you’ll be careful.”

“To repeat, I—”

“Charm,” he interrupted you as if he didn’t have the time for nonsense, his tone completely serious. “Promise me. Please.”

You frowned slightly, then shrugged your shoulders.

“Yeah sure,” you said and he nodded to himself, then walked to the door but stop when he heard you say his name.

“Bucky?”

He turned to you. “Yeah?”

“This whole thing, it won’t lead to the truce breaking, will it?” you asked, desperately trying to convince yourself. “Between the families?”

Bucky shot you an almost reprimanding look like he could see right through you.

“I’ll lie to you if you want me to but we did grow up with the same stories Charm,” he reminded you. “It will lead to something, and you know it as well as I do.”

With that, he walked out of your room and you sat down on the armchair across from the fireplace with a sigh, your heart slamming against your ribcage. You gritted your teeth together and leaned your head back, then pressed your palms on your eyes.

 “Oh,” you said. “God damn it.”

Chapter 8

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #mob!bucky barnes x reader #mob!bucky #mob!bucky barnes #mob!bucky x reader #mob bucky #mob bucky barnes #mob boss!bucky #mob boss bucky barnes #mob bucky x reader #bucky x reader #mafia bucky x reader #mafia bucky barnes #mafia!bucky barnes #mafia!bucky #mafia!bucky barnes x reader #mob au

[anonymousewrites]

Nature of the Human Soul (Book 1) Chapter Fourteen

Platonic! Hazbin Hotel x Teen! Reader

Father Figure! Alastor x Teen! Reader

Chapter Fourteen: Show Goes On

Summary: The Hotel rebuilds and moves on from the fight.

Mouse Note: Thank you for reading Nature of the Human Soul (Book 1)! I hope you all enjoyed because I loved writing this. I'm so excited for Hazbin Hotel to return because I have a lot of ideas for this series, and I'm excited to continue. But for now, thank you for everything! If you like my writing, please check out my other Father Figure series!

           “Noooo!” screamed Lute as Adam fell. She ran to Adam’s side, and (Y/N) backed off, narrowing their eyes in case she tried anything. “Sir! Stay with me, sir! Adam!” He was gone.

           “It’s over,” said Charlie, holding Vaggie to her side protectively.

           Lucifer loomed over Lute, and her eyes widened in fright. “Take your little friends and go home! Please.”

           Lute narrowed her eyes and picked up Adam’s halo. Furious at having no other choice, she glared at the demons before calling out to the exorcists. “Retreat. All exorcists fall back.”

           The angels rose into the air, fleeing back through the portal to heaven.

           Lucifer, pleased, turned to the hotel group. “So…who’s up for pancakes?”

           Everyone, bloody and tired, stared at him.

l

            “Good evening, I’m Katie Killjoy,” said the news report later that night.

            “And I’m—”

            “No one gives a shit who you are, Tom,” said Katie. “Breaking news: extermination day is canceled! Charlie Morningstar managed to fend off the angelic attack with more than just nice words. In an unseen turn of events, our demonic head honcho Lucifer stepped in to save his daughter’s ass in the last moment. We’re also hearing reports that Adam, leader of the Angelic Legions, first man, and totally fuckable bad boy, has been slain by a filthy gardening demon or some shit like that. The kid said, quote, ‘I hate cameras, and TV here sucks, go away’ before threatening our crew! What an asshole! Anyway, congrats to Charlie and her crew for not being totally fucking useless for once.”

l

            Charlie held Keekee as she looked over the rubble that used to be the Hazbin Hotel. They’d lost so much, so many people. “Oh, there, there, it’s…” She sighed. “It’s okay.” She tried to believe it herself, but it was difficult.

            Angel smiled at her as he held Fat Nuggets. Charlie managed to smile back and took a step towards him. She found herself in front of the “Happy First Week!” sign she’d made for Pentious. Her heart ached at his loss. Vaggie put her hands on Charlie’s shoulders comfortingly.

(Charlie) “He did it for us, The ultimate sacrifice. He gave me his trust, And look how we pay the prince.”

            Tears gathered in her eyes. She had failed her friends. Because she hadn’t been strong enough, they had gotten hurt, killed.

(Charlie) “This bloodshed could have been avoided, If I convinced heaven to work together. I took a hotel, and I destroyed it, I know I could have done better, better, Instead of letting you down.”

            Lucifer put a hand on his daughter’s shoulder and smiled at her.

(Lucifer) “Come on little lady, why the frown? In the last ten thousand years, you’re the first one to change this town, You can do this, Now I know it, For your story has just begun, You can’t quit now, Hell, you owe it, There’s still damage to be undone, You’ve changed my mind, You’ve touched their hearts.”

            Charlie looked around as her friends approached with a smile.

(Lucifer) “Found the good in souls gone bad, The stage is wrecked, the crowd is gone, But by God Charlie, The show it must go on!”

            Her friends gathered around Charlie.

(Vaggie, Cherri, (Y/N), Angel, Husk, Niffty) “We can do this, We can build it! Best hotel that you’ve ever seen! Twice the bedrooms, We can fill it!” (Lucifer) “With more sinners than you can dream!” (Lucifer and Vaggie) “It starts with you!” (Vaggie, Cherri, (Y/N), Lucifer, Angel, Husk, Niffty) “You know it’s true, Fulfill your destiny!”

            They reached out their hands. Wiping her tears and smiling, Charlie stood and took her father’s hand as the group came together for a hug.

(Charlie) “So long as I’ve got all of you with me!”

            And so, the cleanup and work began. It was tough going, but everyone pitched in, and the hotel began to come together better than before.

(Niffty) “To build a hotel, I think we need some brick and lumber!” (Lucifer) “Good thing we’re in Hell, check out this little magic number.”

            He snapped his fingers, and the supplies appeared.

(Angel) “Start with foundation.” (Lucifer) “A remedial creation for me.”

            The foundation came together in a single spell.

(Niffty, Angel, Lucifer) “It’s as easy as can be!”

            Soon, the hotel was getting decorated, rooms ready to be stayed in.

(Charlie) “No time for cryin’, We got a lot of work to do and, We gotta try and make the best of what’s in ruins.” (Vaggie) “New coat of paint!” (Husk) “New lights across the marquee!” ((Y/N)) “With a little sorcery!”

            They waved a hand, and plants grew up around the hotel, decorating it with nature amongst the barren city that Pride usually was.

            Finally, the hotel was put back together, with a statue of Dazzle outside. Charlie smiled at the painting of Pentious and the Egg Bois going up in the foyer to honor his memory. The memories of who they lost would never be forgotten as a new era of the Hazbin Hotel approached.

(All) “We can do this!” (Charlie) “We can do this!” (All) “We’ll be better!” (Charlie) “We’ll be better!” (All) “Though redemption may take a while.” (Charlie) “Though it may take a while.” (All) “Wayward sinners, clear their ledger!”

            They came together for a hug, and a familiar face popped out of the shadows.

(Alastor) “And we’re doing it with a smile!”

            (Y/N) grinned. He was healed and back with them. He had survived, too.

(Charlie) “We’ll make a difference, wait and see.” (Charlie and Vaggie) “We’re gonna do this, you and me.” (All) “And then tomorrow it will be, A fuckin’ happy day in Hell!”

            The Hazbin Hotel was open for business.

l

            (Y/N) walked through the hotel to the new wing dedicated to Alastor’s broadcasts. Obviously, it was placed on the opposite side from Lucifer’s apple-themed wing. They paused at the door of the radio and knocked.

            “Alastor?” they called out.

            The door was opened by a shadow, and (Y/N) stepped inside. Alastor was standing over the controls of the new radio, examining everything.

            “Do you like it?” asked (Y/N), slightly nervous.

           Yes, they had faced Adam, but this was…different. It was a different type of encounter. With a fight, (Y/N) knew what it felt like to suffer, to go through pain, so they could handle that. With friendship, (Y/N) had very little experience, so they weren’t sure how to deal with it.

           Alastor turned to face them. “It seems Charlie did a good job ensuring this was up to my standards. My broadcasts will be quality, as usual.”

           “Charlie didn’t make it. Well, she helped, but I, uh, I did it,” said (Y/N).

           Alastor paused, and his grin, unbidden, widened. “You did?”

           (Y/N) nodded. “I saw your tower was affected when Adam hurt you, so when we rebuilt the hotel, I made sure there was something for you to come back to.”

           “I hadn’t expected to have a broadcast tower at the hotel,” said Alastor.

           “Do you like it?” asked (Y/N).

           “I do,” said Alastor honestly.

           (Y/N) brightened. “I’m glad! And I’m glad you’re alright. Adam did a lot of damage to the hotel, killed Pentious, and hurt you pretty badly.”

           “It will take more than that to kill the Radio Demon,” said Alastor, but the unfortunate truth was that he had nearly died.

           “I faced him,” said (Y/N) suddenly.

           Alastor paused. “Oh?”

           “Yeah, I fought Adam. It didn’t go that well for me, either.” They grinned at him. “But I killed him. In the end, I killed him.” They stood proud in their strength and determination. Yes, (Y/N) had nearly fallen to Adam and Lucifer had really defeated him, but dealing the killing blow had given (Y/N) so much satisfaction.

           Alastor looked at (Y/N), and he cursed every part of him that still had some humanity since he felt something as they smiled at him. It wasn’t what he felt when Rosie laughed alongside him and teased him, but it held a familiar warmth. Although he had begun by seeing something in (Y/N) that reminded him of himself from oh-so long ago, Alastor couldn’t help but look at (Y/N) and just see them, now. It wasn’t them being like him, even if it still began there, but it was more.

           “I wouldn’t expect anything less of my protégé,” said Alastor, unable to keep the fondness completely out of his voice.

           Alastor was falling victim to all of the weaknesses he wanted to eliminate within himself.

           And (Y/N)? Well, the Nature Demon stood tall. They were growing into all the strength they had ever wished for.

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#nature of the human soul #x reader #gn reader #nb reader #x gn reader #x nb reader #x teen!reader #x teen reader #found family #found family trope #father figure #alastor x teen reader #hazbin alastor #alastor x reader #alastor #alastor x teen!reader #hazbin hotel x teen reader #platonic hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x teen!reader #platonic #platonic x reader

[superhaught]

To Be Another Notch... (Chapter Two)

Pairing: Leighton Murray x Reader

Warnings: sick reader, reference to the chapter 1 smut

Word Count: 1100, Part 2/?

Part 1

Just a little follow up to "To Be Another Notch in Your Bedpost." Might keep it going, might not. I don't really have any specific ideas for where this one could go, though!

Also, Anonymous Asked: All I can think about now is like what if Leighton x reader are snowed in at Essex and the reader is deliriously ill and Leighton goes into protector mode and her roommates don’t know how to react since they’ve never seen this side of her with anyone before

I don't know if I did a super excellent job addressing this ask but I hope y'all like it! I'm in a bit of a writer's block rn so I'm doing me best. <3

Reader wakes up very sick and Leighton takes care of her. (Reader is explicitly she/her in this one).

You had slept over with Leighton after your night together. You awoke, bundled warmly in her deluxe comforter.

Well, technically, you didn’t wake up of your own accord. Leighton jostled you in an attempt to wake you and it wasn’t until she had to begin shouting your name that you actually came to. And furthermore, you weren’t exactly comfortably warm. You felt freezing cold but your skin was covered in sweat and you were approaching a fever of 102 degrees Fahrenheit. 

To make matters even worse, Essex had been the victim of a massive snowstorm overnight. Leighton had only been trying to gently wake you to let you know that classes had been canceled and you were welcome to stay, but then she felt how your skin was burning.

You opened your eyes blearily and were met with Leighton’s panicked expression and the back of her hand pressed against your forehead. 

“Oh my god, you’re burning up.”

“What? Like the Jonas Brothers?” 

“Jesus Christ, no! Not like the Jonas Brothers! You have a fever.” 

“Ohhh… that makes more sense.” You coughed painfully and Leighton quickly handed you a bottle of water from her mini fridge. 

“I will be right back, Stay. Here.” Leighton ordered before rushing out of the room.

You let your head collapse into the pillow and you were asleep again before you even knew it. An unknown amount of time later, Leighton came back into the room wearing a N95 mask, which she removed once the door was closed. Her arms were full of cold and flu supplies that she certainly could not have gone out and purchased due to the storm. 

Leighton sat everything down next to the bed and started going through the pile, setting a fresh box of tissues with lotion next to you along with a bottle of electrolyte drink. Then, she sifted through the variety of medications and ultimately decided that just some straight up tylenol and cough medicine would be best. 

Leighton was waking you up again and she helped you sit up while you took the medicines and drank a bunch of the electrolyte solution.

“Kimberly’s mom sent her all of this medicine and first aid stuff, it was honestly really impressive. My mom just sent me a Louis Vuitton weekender bag.”

You chuckled lightly, even though it hurt a little to do so, then spoke in a scratchy voice, “both things have their uses.”

Leighton felt your forehead again and then made you lie back down, “I’m quarantining you in here for now, at least until the storm clears. I’ll take care of you here.”

“You’re gonna get sick…” you pointed out.

“Then, you’ll take care of me.”

You furrowed your brows, “well, of course I will, but are you sure? I can just go home,” you made an attempt to sit up but Leighton pushed you right back down.

“Absolutely not. You’re in no state to walk across campus even if it wasn’t a blizzard outside. You’re staying here. End of discussion.”

“But I don’t-”

“Shut up, would you? You’re making me tired just looking at you,” she teased. 

Leighton surprised you, then. She was no longer feeling the fever on your forehead for sheer monitoring purposes, but just softly caressing her thumb over your skin and wiping your sweaty hair aside as she did so. It was comforting. 

You smiled, “you’re really sweet, thank you.”

Leighton leaned down and kissed your forehead gently and stayed by your side until you were too tired to keep your eyes open any longer and you fell asleep again. 

Leighton put her mask back on to protect her roommates from your germs as best as she could then went out into the main area of the suite to let you sleep in peace. 

Leighton sat down on the plaid couch in their common room and exhaled a deep breath. She had never really seen herself as a caretaker type, but for some reason, it had come naturally to her when she saw how sick you were.

Bela decided to go hang out in Jocelyn’s room to gossip the snow day away (with the help of cinnamon whiskey and apple cider… but mostly cinnamon whiskey), while Kimberly and Whitney hunkered down in their room. 

Leighton scrolled mindlessly through her phone when Whitney came out to grab some food from the shared fridge.

“How’s your guest doing?” Whitney asked. 

“Okay, I think.” Leighton answered simply. 

“Is this someone we’ve met before?”

“No,” Leighton said, “she’s new as of last night…”

“Wow. You must be really into her, then.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Well, you let her sleep over and now you’re taking care of her while she’s sick? The Leighton Murray of a few weeks ago would never, storm or no storm…” Whitney smiled at the blonde and sat down on the couch opposite her. 

Leighton’s cheeks flushed, “I don’t know… she’s cute. Really cute. And being around her has been really easy so far. Plus…”

Whitney raised an eyebrow, “plus…?”

Leighton rolled her eyes and then lowered her voice to a near-whisper, “Plus… she made me come like four times last night… maybe more. I honestly lost count.”

“Oh. My. God.” 

“I know.”

“That’s just not fair.”

Leighton smirked and shrugged. 

“So you’re taking care of her because the sex was amazing?” Whitney clarified. 

“No, not just that. Maybe I do really like her. But like…” Leighton groaned, “I’m so fucking stressed about Tatum and Alicia still… Do I really want to jump right into another relationship?” 

Now, Whitney shrugged, “do what makes your heart happy, Leight. If you like her, I say go for it. You never know when someone might be your person.”

Leighton looked over her shoulder at her bedroom door, “huh… yeah, maybe you’re right. I’m gonna go check on her.”

Leighton stood up and Whitney smiled, “I also think you should do whatever you can to bring this nurturing side of you out more often. It’s nice.”

Leighton flashed a glare in Whitney’s direction, “yeah yeah, whatever.”

The blonde slipped back into her room and took a moment to watch you before she climbed into the bed beside you and draped her arm over you. 

You were fast asleep and didn’t feel her join you in the bed, but you unconsciously shifted and hugged her arms close to you. 

Snow continued to drench the campus and it seemed to muffle all sound.

Leighton fell asleep holding you, lulled only by the steady rise and fall of your breathing.

#leighton murray #leighton x reader #leighton murray x reader #tslocg #the sex lives of college girls #fanfiction #my fanfiction #my writing #original writing #anonymous request #renee rapp

[seravphs]

drabbles:

✧ modern intimacy | 200 fluff

Gojo watches you get ready for your anniversary date.

✧ all roads lead home | 600 fluff

Gojo “my girl is mad at me I hope I die” Satoru, companion piece to modern intimacy

✧ all the rumors are true | 450 fluff

He’s an idol. You’re a hairstylist.

short/long fic:

✧ dinner plans | 1k fluff

Gojo's a brat.

✧ spoil | 1k fluff

Gojo Satoru likes his girls clingy. 

✧ sweetheart, psychopathic crush | 1.5k fluff and mild angst 

“What I want from the river is what I always want: / to be held by a stronger thing that, in the end, chooses mercy.” - Advantages of Being Evergreen by Oliver Baez Bendorf

✧ starboy | 1.6k fluff

Your job description entails taking care of one (1) astronaut on his way to Mars. It doesn’t say anything about falling in love with him. 

✧ arrive through obliteration | 3.5k smut

Gojo deserves a trophy for winning his fight against Sukuna. You’re happy to deliver.

✧ you get me closer to god | 3.7k fluff

Kneeling by your bed, rosary wrapped around your knuckles, lips pressed to the burnished rosewood, you pray. God, please send me another guardian angel. A blast of static from the TV behind you. The one you sent me- “Hey, how does the thing work?” Gojo says, accompanied by loud thumps. You cringe in silence. He’s strange.

✧ graveyard shift | 4.5k fluff | (not really a) mafia au

When you took the job, you knew working the night shift at your local convenience store would be boring. That’s fine; you’re here to make enough to pay rent, not to smile for strangers who don’t care anyways.The appearance of a stranger who seems to have a lot to hide is tantalizing bait to your boredom, but you can’t give in. That is, if you have a choice at all.

✧ the commutative property of relationships | 4.5k smut

Gojo and you have little to nothing in common besides a friend group and a shared crush on Nanami Kento. However, as befitting the sorcerer to end all sorcerers, of course Gojo has one up on you - he’s actually made a move on Nanami. If he offers to give you a taste through him, who are you to turn down such a golden opportunity?

✧ star power | 6.8k fluff

Gojo loves the untouchable. You’re an off limits rockstar who thinks he’s an idiot. The only thing he can do is take that as a challenge, right?

universes: 

✧ cruel summer 

✧ teen dad gojo 

series:

✧ let your hand become a blade so I may take it | royal au | 1/7 chapters

Updated knight! gojo x princess! reader

✧ the hand which holds the knife | royal au | 2 chapters 

OLD DRAFT of knight! gojo x princess! reader

✧ spring in hell and everything’s blooming | 2/5 chapters | estimated 12k 

There is before-Getou and after-Getou. In both spaces, Gojo exists.

✧ beating hearts promised to bared teeth | 1/2 chapters | estimated 20k

When a kind stranger offers you his home because your gambling addict of a father can’t pay rent, you’re left in charge of a shrine - with a catch. Once you arrive at your new home, you learn a crucial fact that he conveniently left out. You’re the new god in charge, and his familiar, who now belongs to you, does not like you. What’s a new god to do, especially when she finds herself slowly falling for the fox spirit?

[homestylehughes]

do i know you?

coffee girl: part 2

pairings: luke hughes x fem!reader

summary: y/n's first day on the job, after her encounter big spill with luke hughes. her first day's is going as expected, until she locks eyes with luke, the tension begins to unfold.

wc: 1.6k

warnings: nervous and shy reader and luke. cuteness overload, cussing. fluff? nothing too crazy yet! cliffhanger kinda AGAIN

authors note: OMG HI!! i'm so so sorry it took me forever to get this up. college is actually kicking my ass. (someone help me). ANYWAYS this chapter is more of a filler, more reader focused. we will be getting to the good stuff soon, promise!!! thank you for all of your love and support, so so thankful. like and reblog if you enjoy. as always much love.

happy reading <3

Holy shit I got the job. I got the fucking job. The job that I was late to my interview for, because I ran into cute, sweet, day ruining Luke Hughes, spilling coffee on me and now we’re here.

I'm practically skipping out of the prudential Center, a smile on my face that nothing can take off, even the split coffee on my shirt. 

I start the walk back to my apartment, with a pep in my step. opening my door, my little orange baby Moe greeting me at my feet. 

“Hi, little baby” “mommy got her job” I said to him in a whiney pet voice as I lifted him up into my arms, cradling him into my chest. God, I need more friends, I think to myself.

But none of that matters because I got my dream job, that world is on my side right now. I put Moe back on the ground after our cuddle session, picking up my bag and making my way towards the bathroom. 

I take in my state, Luke's hoodie still covering my body, his scent filling my senses. Letting out a deep sigh, I pulled off the hoodie and put it in my laundry basket. Slowly making my way to my closet, pulling on the first things I find, and plopping myself into my bed. 

My eyes began to slowly close, the events of today filling my mind as I drift off to sleep. 

—

Today is the first day of my job. I'm shitting bricks, I'm not ready for this. You can do this y/n I think to myself, this isn't anything you haven't done before. You are more than qualified for this position. You've worked with athletes before, but these are insanely attractive athletes, but most importantly Luke Hughes is one of them. Fuck…Luke Hughes. 

Im quickly pulled out of my day dream, when the elevator door dings open. Swiftly making my way to my office, my office. 

Walking into the office I call my own, seems unreal, looking around once I set the box of my things on my desk, along with setting my purse in one of the chairs in front of it. Walking around the space taking it all. 

I'm quickly pulled out of my daydream again today when I hear a man's voice behind me. 

“I'm guessing youre y/n y/l/n?” turning around quickly, to meet eyes with the nameless man standing in the doorway.

“Hi yes, I'm y/n, nice to meet you?” I say holding out my hand to the man, whose name I still haven't gotten. “Hi, it's lovely to meet you! I'm Tyler but everyone calls me Ty!” Tyler or I guess ty says, shaking my hand with a smile on his face. 

“I'm guessing you like your place?” Tyler says behind me as we both look around the office, “Yes it's great! I love it already '' I smile back at him.

“Great! Hope you're ready, to meet the team, in about… 5 minutes” he says, as he checks his watch. Oh god, in 5 minutes, i haven't even unpacked yet. Oh gosh what if they all hate me. Oh my god, Luke. Will he remember me??

“I can see everything you're thinking on your face, they're going to love you, the whole team is excited to meet you. It's not everyday we get a female athletic trainer.” Ty says to me pulling me out of my thoughts, calming me down slightly.

“Thank you, i needed that” I sigh out back to him 

“Of course, are you ready?” 

“Yes? I think” Ty chuckles in response, as we make our way out of the office. 

“I'll give you a better in depth tour than the one you've had earlier, later. Sound good?” he says from beside me, nodding my head in agreement. As we make our way through the halls of the center. 

We finally make our way to what I think is the Devils locker room, my heartbeat begins to pick up. 

“The boys finished up practice about 45 minutes ago” Ty says as he's going to open the door, his back now turned to me. “I'm going to go in first to make sure they're all dressed and somewhat put together” he chuckles out to me. 

“Okay, I'll be here,” I say before he enters the locker room. 

It feels like 30 minutes goes by, but it's actually probably only been 2. 

I see Ty head pop out, “y/n, are you ready?” 

“Yes!” NO I  want to say, but I'll keep that to myself. Taking a deep breath, I follow Ty into the locker room. 

Walking in the locker room, I instantly feel 40 pairs of eyes on me. Oh gosh this is scarier than I thought, I say to myself. 

“Gentleman, this y/n, our new athletic trainer!” Ty says gesturing to me, our eyes locking briefly, silently asking me to say something. 

“Hi guys! I'm y/n! I'm really excited to work with guys "I say, as I pause to try and think of something else to say. 

“I'm not going to lie, I'm not sure what else to say… you guys make me nervous.” I laugh nervously. The whole room erupted in chuckles. 

They found that funny? I'll take it. 

“I like her already” I hear a few players chuckle out. My nerves are finally beginning to settle, until I lock eyes with him. Luke. 

It feels like my whole world stops, as his eyes lock with mine, our eyes swimming in each other, his gaze is so strong, it's almost like he’s trying to figure out who I am. 

I'm the first to break contact. Turning around to only get pulled into a conversation with the training staff, as they quickly pulled me out of the locker room, to show me around the rest of the building. 

I can't shake the feeling of Luke's eyes on me, as they show me around. My mind is still foggy from our interaction. 

— 

My “first day” was more of a tour and getting the feel of where everything was. I was even able to get my office together. This is beginning to feel like home I think to myself. Im pulled out my thoughts when I hear a knock on my door.

“Come in!” I shout out, from my desk, my face in the paperwork I'm currently filling out, not bothering to raise my head, thinking it's one of trainers. 

“One second, just trying to do this last bit of paperwork” I say, as my pen is quickly moving across the page. 

“You're okay, take your time” says the voice that I know oh so well, the voice that's been stuck in my head for the last 4 days. 

I slowly bring my head up from my desk, my eyes slowly taking over Luke's figure, taking in his appearance. He's just as beautiful as I member

Quickly snapping out of my trance, clearing my throat “Hi Luke, did you need something?” I ask as politely and professionally as I can. 

“Do I know you from somewhere?” Luke quickly says to me.

“Um.” I am trying to figure out a way to continue this conversation.

I feel Luke's eyes run over my face for the second time today. I see his mouth slowly open, as he runs his hand over his face, letting out a sigh. 

“Oh my gosh, you're the girl I spilt her coffee on like a week ago aren't you?” 

“It's actually been four days but, yes that's me.” I say back letting out a breathlily laugh to my desk. 

“Shit, i'm so so sorry” he rambles out quickly. “Its okay, I promise, it was an accident” 

“But I made you cry, oh my gosh. You were on the way to your interview here, weren't you?”

“Yes I was, but it worked out, I still got the job,” I say, gesturing to the room around us. 

“This is so embarrassing, I'm so sorry.” Luke begins to apologize again. 

“Hey hey, i promise it's okay” i say getting up from my desk, walking around to lean up against the front, to stand in front of Luke. 

“We can start off again on a better foot if you'd like?” I say holding out my hand to him, “Hi, I’m y/n” my hand still being held out in front of him, luke's eyes look me up and before he grasps my hand finally shaking it. “Hi, I’m Luke” he says, staring my eyes. 

“It's nice to meet you” I smile out to him, as our hands drop, his touch still lingering. “You're really pretty when you smile” Luke rasps out to me.

My cheeks begin to heat with a blush, lowering my head, now looking at my feet. 

“I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable.” 

“No, you didn't” i say suddenly “it just surprised me, that's all” 

“Good,” he says quietly, our eyes locked in a soft gaze. 

“I-I should probably get going, let you get back to work.” “Yeah of course, thank you for stopping by” I say, for some reason I don't want him to leave. 

“We’re really happy you're here y/n” luke says to me, there's something about the way Luke says my name, that makes my heart stop for a second. 

“I'm really glad, I'm here too.” 

“Have a great day” he says to me as he makes his way to the door. “You too!” I say turning back to behind my desk. 

Luke turned back once more, to take one final glance in my direction, smiling softly at me again, before closing the door behind him.

I released the breath I didn't even know I was holding out, letting my shoulder fall a little bit.

This job is going to much more difficult than i thought, and it's all because, of my stupid coffee and Luke Hughes. 

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